Remembering Sydney Williams

sydney williams
sydney williams
Mr. Sydney Williams

Yesterday when I opened my Facebook app, I was stunned to read the news of the passing of Sydney Williams, who was a good friend and a great man. Sydney was the eldest son of Muriel and Mervin Williams, who were lifelong friends of my parents and our families were close.

I wanted to post about Sydney today because he was a leader and activist and until the end, he always spoke his mind and his truth. In 2018, Charlie Clark of the Falls Church News- Press wrote about Sydney’s perspective of growing up in Halls Hill in his column, Our Man in Arlington. Here’s an excerpt for you:

A commemoration of a different sort sprang up spontaneously on the Facebook page “I Grew Up in Arlington, Va.”

Sydney Williams, a 68-year-old Washington-Lee High School graduate now living in West Bay, Cayman Islands, lit up the site with bittersweet recollections of growing up in Hall’s Hill. Some of his posts stirring up memories of segregation were “liked” by 300 or 500 Arlington alumni.

“Hall’s Hill was a self-contained community. As children we did not have to venture out for much,” wrote Williams, who has a master’s in theology and worked in corrections in Virginia. “Ms. Allen’s store sold everything a kid could want — two-for-a-penny cookies, cold soda, fried bologna sandwiches, chips. If you did not want to walk down from the playground, you could go to Mr. Montrose’s bus (converted into a store). Hall’s Hill [was] self-sustained, walled-off, isolated, safe and secure. Segregation was great!”

Williams did not mean the Jim Crow laws and customs were fine. From 1950 to 1962, Hall’s Hill was “like a county within a county. I could not go to the movies [or] the pools” or use the close-by Arlington Hospital, he noted.

“When I attended Stratford [Junior High], we still were not totally accepted as blacks,” he wrote. “I was the only black on Stratford’s basketball team…. Every night I had to walk through the white neighborhood in the dark by myself. I moved at a fast pace through dark places. I did not feel safe until I got to Lee Highway Peoples Drug Store.”

Williams pays tribute to his grandfather, Edward T. Morton, one of the first black doctors from Hall’s Hill. “We had black educators, professional race car drivers, dentists, [and] excellent athletes,” he continued. Other colorful characters were called Popcorn, Chick or Mother Goose, and Pop Burrel. “Pop provided softball equipment for us before” before the Recreation Department would, he said. Often saluting, Pop “would dress in his World War II uniform and march to the playground with a burlap bag of balls and bats and gloves for everybody. The only catch to him providing the equipment was he had to umpire. He was the worst.”

“Even though it may appear that because of the racial climate of the times that it was hard or bad or unfair, that is not the case. Our parents prevented and shielded us from even thinking it was bad. Our childhood was wonderful, funny and interesting.”

Williams does not minimize segregation. But he added, “Please don’t feel bad for us or apologize for what we had to go through. The truth is it made me the man I am today.”

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Sydney was a big supporter of my book, website, and the work I am doing to expand the knowledge of the untold history of Arlington’s Black community. When he visited Arlington a few years ago, he graciously granted an interview for this blog. I am sharing the interview again today to help remember Syd.

My condolences to Sydney’s wife, Floretta, and his daughter, Indigo. Much love.

Sydney was a force in the Universe and he will definitely be missed by so many people who loved and respected him. He positively impacted and educated thousands as a thought leader, a minister, a counselor, and a friend.