That white man was me. Some 7 years ago, I was dating an African-American lady. I had a farm in North West Mo and was semi-retired. I had seen a newspaper article about a lady who had died and left her farm to a church with the condition that it would be used for the benefit of young people. This farm was some 60 miles from my farm, but close to lake property I owned. A meeting was announced for anyone to attend regardless of religious association looking for ideas. As I had numerous skills with organic gardening and enjoyed working with young people, I thought I might be able to bring something to the table. The meeting was at the farm. We had left Cameron Mo, driven east, than South looking for a crossroad. When we saw the crossroad, we turned left. We had only traveled about a mile when we realized that we should have turned right. We turned around in a drive; stopped to admire the small flower garden at the corner of the drive. Before we could get turned around the couple who lived at the house arrived and we chatted a few minutes, asked about the location of the farm we were searching for and left. At the farm, a modern barn with a cement floor was used as the meeting place. The sponsoring church had set up chairs and arranged them so we could see and hear the speaker. Some 40 people attended. We listened to the story of how the deceased woman had come to give the farm to the church and then listened to different speakers as they gave ideas and dreams about the farm for the good of young people. After about 20 minutes, someone tapped me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear that someone wanted to talk to me. As this farm was 60 miles away from my farm, I was at loss as to who would want to talk to me. As I walked out the door, a state trooper met me and asked if I would sit in his cruiser and talk. He asked me a number of questions about where I was from, why I was there and so on. He said ok and let me get out. When I got out, I saw that another trooper had brought out my girlfriend a few minutes after me and talked to her in another car out of my sight. I guess this is a police tactic to separate the suspects so that their stories could be compared without each other’s knowledge. At no time were we informed of why we were questioned. The location of the farm is about 50 miles north of Kansas City MO close to Cameron MO. One evening as we driving through Cameron, I was pulled over. I don’t remember whether it was a local police or a county sheriff; but they took my license and insurance card, returned to their cruiser and checked me out. He returned to tell me that my middle brake light was out and I was free to go. Then he asked to see the driver’s license of my date. There was no reason to check the driver’s license of a passenger. As it was dark when we were pulled over, I am sure that they did not realize that I had an African-American person in the car until they had walked up to the car. The lady I was dating is an attorney that had practiced for years in downtown KC Mo. She had been active in many civic organizations and was known well enough to be considered for a judgeship. In addition she had practiced as a minister for some years with a church and was still an active member. I had never been arrested, had retired from one vocation, was a farmer and had even written a couple of books, one of which was a teenage adventure story. At the time I was a Red Cross volunteer and shortly after this event, went on to be instrumental in the formation of a garden and farmer’s market for a major church in Kansas City, MO. Although I now wear my hair long, at the time I was a conservative looking person with short hair driving an uneventful looking PT Cruiser. We were both property owners and other than the fact that she was African-American, there was no reason to be pulled out of a church meeting. I know that compared to a young black man walking down the street, my experience was tame. I do think that it goes to show that even in a Northern MO community, being black will affect how you are treated by the police.
