Some years later a civil and human rights activist, who on occasion questioned my style, shared with me his surprise to discover my 1950s and 1960s activities with the Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), and the Congress of Racial Equality (CORE). He suggested that if more people knew of my record of activism during that era, including the role I played in the landmark "Breach of the Peace" case, Edwards v. South Carolina, many who doubted my commitment to the cause would be assuaged. That is to say, would consider me black enough. 

     He wondered why I never flaunted it, and asked if I was ashamed of my record. I assured him that to the contrary, I am proud of that record.  I shared with him the 1974 conversation I had with the late Pete Strom, who was Chief of the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division (SLED).  Chief Strom had rediscovered those records while doing a background check to determine my suitability to be South Carolina's Human Affairs Commissioner, and suggested I send him a letter requesting that my record be expunged.  I respectfully declined and told the Chief, that to me that record was a badge of honor.  I also shared with my activist friend Emily's 1970 sage advice.

     I took that advice with me to Congress in 1993.  I made little public comment in 1994 when I succeeded in getting Congressional approval to name the new federal Courthouse in Columbia in honor of former civil rights attorney Federal District Court Judge, Matthew J. Perry, Jr.  I wept softly while failing for three years to get sufficient Congressional support to fund construction of that Courthouse.  I bragged gently when I convinced President Clinton to put the Perry Courthouse in his 1998 budget submission, virtually guaranteeing the funds for its construction.

     I have adhered to Emily's admonition in the face of many deliberate omissions and attributions by some of my friends in the media, whose blackouts (an intended pun) of my efforts and those of most black public officials are obvious. But a recent conversation with Dr. Marjorie Hammock, a longtime friend and supporter, causes me to rethink my steadfast adherence to Emily's advice. 

     Margorie told me of a neighbor's comments during last year's elections, that she knew of nothing I had ever done which deserved being reelected.  She shared with her neighbor some of my accomplishments, including the Perry Courthouse and garage, the Pee Dee and Lake Marion regional water projects, and my historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) initiatives. The neighbor was under the impression that another member of Congress was responsible for the Courthouse, and was unaware of the water projects and HBCUs initiatives.  Of course Marjorie is on my mailing list, her neighbor relies on local news reports.  Marjorie advised me to do a better job of publicizing my record.

     I am taking Majorie's advice to heart, and believe I can do so without blatantly violating Emily's advice.  You see, I am old enough to remember the colorful baseball commentator, Dizzy Dean and am beginning to appreciate one of his often stated incantations, "It ain't bragging if you done it."

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