Carl Wesley Matthews: A remembrance and appreciation
Carl Matthews
John T. Liewelyn
Guest Columnist
Carl Wesley Matthews died Friday at the age of 84. With his passing, Winston-Salem has lost a giant of moral courage. It was Carl who sat in alone on Feb. 8, 1960 at the Kress lunch counter at Fourth and Liberty, awaiting service. His courage was a beacon: 11 students from then-Winston Salem Teachers College joined him. The beacon shone even brighter: 10 students from then-Wake Forest College joined in. The demonstration continued; the group, now numbering more than 20, was arrested on Feb. 23 and taken to jail.
The act of liberating the community’s conscience was undertaken by Carl Matthews, and his example drew students promoting change and demonstrating goodwill – Blacks and Whites together. It is easy to forget the real danger and the palpable hatred that could be unleashed by this simple act of conscience.
One week before Carl acted, the now world-famous Greensboro sit-in had begun with four North Carolina A&T college students. That watershed moment is rightly memorialized with a downtown museum. For some, Winston-Salem’s confrontation on the same issue may seem to be a footnote. Two points contradict that view: Segregation was a battle to be fought town-to-town. A change in Greensboro’s lunch counters would mean nothing for Winston-Salem unless people in Winston-Salem insisted on a similar change here. The second point is this: it was Winston-Salem, not Greensboro, where lunch counters were first desegregated. The Winston-Salem change came on May 25, 1960; Carl returned to the lunch counter and was served, 107 days after he first sat down. This observation takes nothing away from Greensboro; it is simply to say that Winston-Salem did the right thing first – even if City fathers were reluctant. Carl Matthews and his student followers brought our city to its senses with a simple but very dangerous demonstration of moral courage. It is this man who embodied the best in the pursuit of social justice who we lost last week.
I met Carl nearly 20 years ago when my wife helped to organize a city-wide event recognizing the veterans of the 1960 sit-in. In all the years from 1960 through 2000, no one in the community had formally recognized Carl Matthews or the students of Winston-Salem State University and Wake Forest University. Four decades without comment sends its own message. The two-day symposium, exactly 40 years after the arrests, involved city government and both universities. It woke the city up to its own history. Carl and the students were honored; a historical marker recounting their story was unveiled and stands today on Fourth Street, opposite the old county office building. A documentary film, “I’m Not my Brother’s Keeper: Leadership and Civil Rights in Winston-Salem, North Carolina,” told the story of the students and the sit-in. It was broadcast on public television and is available in public libraries.
This loss is also personal as my family values its long-standing friendship with Carl Matthews and Sharon Rucker. Occasional dinners, and holiday and graduation cards were reminders of how our lives entwined. My children got to know first-hand a man who was the embodiment of morality and dignity and an exemplar of living his faith, even in the face of public resistance. What a gift for them and their generation. The current presidential campaign and a front-runner who will not reject support from the Ku Klux Klan suggests that we are going to need another generation inspired by Carl’s courage.
When Carl stood to leave the Kress store on the first day of the sit-in he quietly recited the 23rd Psalm. From the Blacks and Whites assembled came other voices, joining in. It concluded with a loud and multi-voiced “Amen.” Carl’s story confirms that even in times of tension—then and now—people of faith and goodwill can build a path to brotherhood.
Dr. King observed, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice.” In our community, Carl Wesley Matthews should always be honored and remembered as the man who reached up and pulled that arc toward the city of Winston-Salem and social justice. Rest in Peace, my friend.
John T. Llewellyn is associate professor of communication at Wake Forest University.
