Alan Page, whose second act in life vaulted him beyond even his Pro Football Hall of Fame career, still remembers a childhood moment which sharpened the "justice for all" mentality that drove him to become the first black justice to serve on the Minnesota Supreme Court.
"I've never talked about this [memory] before, but I will, because one thing I've learned is, in order to solve the discrimination that we see, we have to come to grips with our own biases," said Page, speaking Feb. 18 to high school students from Minneapolis North, Paladin Career and Technical in Blaine, and Focus Beyond in St. Paul. The gathering was part of a panel in honor of Black History Month at the Vikings Museum in Eagan.
Page then shared a story from when he was 12 or 13, growing up in Canton, Ohio, during the dawn of the civil rights era. It was 1957 or '58 and an entire nation was still wrestling with the infamous case of Emmett Till, a 14-year-old black kid from Chicago. While visiting family in Mississippi in summer 1955, he was brutalized and lynched by four white men, all of whom were acquitted.
"There was a kid in my neighborhood who, at the time, would have been described as effeminate," Page said. "We thought he was a gay kid. And we used to regularly pick on him just because he was gay. And one day it dawned on me, 'How can I expect people to treat me fairly if I'm treating other people unfairly? If I'm bullying other people simply because of the color of their skin or their gender or sexual preference, how can I expect people to treat me any different?'
"That was one of those moments that changed my life forever."
Meanwhile, fellow Vikings Hall of Famer Carl Eller, who joined Page and Vikings co-defensive coordinator Andre Patterson on the panel, used his time to take the audience down memory lane to 1960, the Jim Crow-era South and ground zero of the civil rights movement.
Eller was a high school senior in Winston-Salem, N.C., the day four black college students walked into the F.W. Woolworth Co. in Greensboro just 18 miles away. They sat down at the "whites only" lunch counter and started a movement by sitting still when asked to leave.
At first, Eller viewed the ensuing marches as a good excuse for a young black man to get out of going to class. But their true meaning touched him the day he walked into a hamburger joint in Winston-Salem as the proud owner of "the 15 cents or whatever it took" to order the hamburger he could never afford.