In 1970, when I was 17 years old, my father Charles M. McCurdy—a by-the-book disciplinarian, always in a suit and tie and horn-rimmed glasses—became an activist in a way I’d never imagined. For some 15 years, he had been the principal of Lake Shore High, a mostly black high school in Belle Glade, Fla. Long after the Civil Rights Act, Belle Glade remained segregated, with separate waiting rooms in doctor’s offices (the white side had air conditioning), separate windows to order at Dairy Queen, separate movie theaters (theirs...

Source: Wall Street Journal June 15, 2019 03:56 UTC