29 | Sink or Swim | Battle for the Beach
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Wondery Plus subscribers can listen to Black History for Real early and ad-free right now. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Have you ever been to a beach that used to be segregated?

I have, but I didn't know it until we started working on this series because I've been to Manhattan Beach. What about you? To be honest with you, I hadn't thought about it, but knowing me and what I know about how segregation was in this country, I'm most definitely certain that I've been to one. I couldn't just tell you which one specifically type shit, but it's definitely, definitely, you know, something I've been to and I experienced, you know, because a lot of these beaches, they used to be black.

We wouldn't even know it. They just looked like regular old bitches. But oh, they got some stories to tell. From fights and arrests, hell, even hugs. A bunch went down in that history buried under the sand. It just takes a little digging. Let's get into some Black history for real.

It's a scorching Sunday afternoon in the summer of 1919. One of those kind of days when it feels like the smartest thing to do is be still. But the youth aren't down with sitting still. 17-year-old Eugene Williams dreams of the water and the beaches near Lake Michigan. Eugene ain't the only one running towards the waves. Thousands of Chicago residents head to the Lake Michigan beaches on Sundays.

But the kids are supposed to stay away from all that chaos. Parents' orders. Eugene and his friends, though, they like most teenagers. They ignore their parents and head towards the local swimming hole. It's a rocky area between two factories just south of the color one at 25th Street. It's a ghost town. It's legal for black teenagers to swim everywhere, but racists ain't known for being sticklers of the law.

Eugene and his friends aren't exactly the best swimmers. They push a raft made from logs off the beach. A handful of people watch the boys float away. Eugene watches clouds travel across the light blue sky.

Water laps gently at the raft and the railroad and factories along the shore shrink into the distance. Eugene jumps into the lake and dunks his head under the surface. He lays low, then springs up and throws handfuls of water at his friends. The sputtering boys return the favor. Laughing and carefree, Eugene climbs back on the raft and closes his eyes. The day can't get any better than this. He drifts off to sleep, rocked by the waves.

Eugene jerks awake and looks wildly around. The familiar beach is gone. They've all drifted too far south, dangerously close to the whites-only beach at 29th Street on the south side of Chicago. His heart thuds in his chest. A gang of red-faced white folks scream at them from shore. Leave now! You're not supposed to be here! Eugene and his friends exchange frightened glances. They're being attacked. A white man hurls another rock. It sails through the air,

and Eugene's head snaps back. He slides off the raft. Blood pours from his forehead. His arms and legs flail as blood drips into his eyes. It's hard to swim and see. Eugene's friends try to save him. They grab hold of him, but he panics. He could pull them under, too. Eugene calls out for help, but his mouth fills with water. The other boys shake themselves loose, and Eugene disappears forever.

His friends take off for the colored beach and come running back with a black lifeguard. Even with the lifeguard, there's no sign of Eugene. Police show up and black folks point out the attacker, but the cops ain't arresting anybody. Eventually, Eugene's lifeless body is pulled from the water and placed on the white beach's shore. ♪

Across the nation, similar scenes play out. Young black boys and girls are attacked by segregationists or drown in dangerous waters. Something's gotta give before more black lives are lost.

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From Wondery, this is Black History Thrill, where we chronicle the stories of movers and shakers from Black history all over the world.

These stories will inspire you, educate you, and more often than not, leave you shaking your damn head. I'm Consciously. And I'm Francesca Ramsey. This is the finale of our series on Black Beaches. Today we're covering the story of beach desegregation. Black elites with money kicked their feet up in the summer homes in places like Highland Beach, safe havens away from racists. But lower-income families didn't have that escape.

They were forced to swim at hazardous and deadly public beaches. They were rightfully fed up. Activists across the U.S. fought for the passage of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. The act would desegregate all public facilities, including beaches. This is episode two, Sink or Swim. After Eugene's murder...

The city devolves into all out chaos. White newspaper hype up anti-black propaganda. Some of them even act like segregation just became a problem in Chicago. White folks anyway. Black people are furious about Eugene's death. They attack white folks. Then white mobs try to get their licks back and literally hunt down black people. Hunt them like animals.

Politicians act like the chaos ain't a big deal, but the murders tell a different story. The Chicago Defender, a Black newspaper, calls out America for what it is: the land of the lyncher and of the mobber crack. Black leaders from civil rights organizations demand politicians take action. Finally, the mayor does just that. He calls in the state militia. The threat of their machine guns slows the mobs down, but it doesn't stop them completely.

A riot erupts in the city. Thousands of homes are damaged. Hundreds of people are injured. 23 Black folks and 15 white people die. But on August 3rd, the state militia stomps out all of the bloodshed. Eugene's mother, Luella, gets $4,500. Money can't replace her son. He's never coming back. But the riots prove one thing: Black folks will fight back against segregation and racist violence.

From the 1940s to the early 1960s, Black activists show they ain't taking white folks' mess laying down. The civil rights movement is in full swing, and protesters are fighting to end racist violence and injustices. In 1954, the United States Supreme Court ruled segregation in public schools unconstitutional.

But beaches are still separate and unequal around the nation, especially in a small city nestled in the Gulf of Mexico, Biloxi, Mississippi.

In the first half of the 20th century, Biloxi is Sin City. Folks are free to gamble, drink bootleg liquor, and dance the night away. And in the 40s and 50s, a strip of nightclubs opens up on Highway 90. It serves all the troops going to Keesler Air Force Base. Politicians try to crack down on gambling, but it's a losing man's game.

The city is caught between the past and the present. Segregation's a fact of life. This includes the beaches, which are center of civil rights protests in the 1950s. For some Biloxi residents, like Dr. Gilbert Mason, segregation is a burden that's got to be thrown off.

Gilbert's born in 1920 in Jackson, Mississippi. It's another city that sees its fair share of gambling and illegal booze. Gilbert's family is poor, but he doesn't know that. He's got aunts, uncles, and cousins who take care of him. But Jackson's not for the faint of heart. It's the kind of city where one wrong look might leave a man swinging from a tree or thrown into the Pearl River. That doesn't scare young Gilbert into submission. His daddy taught him too much about his rights for that.

Sometimes, when he takes the city bus to high school, he sits in the white section just to prove a point. Gilbert keeps that spirit of resilience when he leaves Jackson. He studies chemistry, biology, and math at the HBCU, Tennessee State. Historically Black College University for those of you who don't know. He reads folks like German philosopher Karl Marx and Black historian Carter G. Woodson.

And he graduates in 1949 at the top of his class.

It's Gilbert's dream to go to med school at another Black college, Howard University in Washington, D.C. Mississippi doesn't provide medical training to aspiring Black physicians. But the state does offer to pay Black medical students a total of $5,000 if they return home after graduation and practice for five years. It's an offer too good to ignore. In the fall of 1950, he starts classes at Howard.

Gilbert learns a ton about medicine, but he also taps into a new consciousness. The faculty is always telling students to uplift Black people down South. D.C. living's not bad, but D.C. is going to be majority Black soon. Things might change for Black folks in the city before long. Life for Black people in Mississippi? Maybe he can do more good back home.

Gilbert moves back to his home state of Mississippi with his wife, Natalie, and his young son. During the summer of 1955, he settles on the coast of Biloxi. He opens a family practice and builds up a list of Black patients. He's taking care of people, treating infections, delivering babies, and doing minor surgeries. Gilbert's been gone a decade, and the city feels brand new. But

But Mississippi segregation is still the same. White patients are basically ghosts to Dr. Mason. They're not trying to hear some Negro smarter than them. He's frustrated by life in Biloxi. Hell, he's frustrated by segregation, period. It's a caste system he refuses to fit into. And forget about relaxing at the end of a workday. The stunning Biloxi beaches he loved so much are still segregated. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He doesn't want his family's lives to be limited by racists and their segregationist policies. His son deserves a better future than that. Gilbert joins the Gulfport branch of the NAACP in 1955. One of the first suggestions he makes is integrating public beaches in Biloxi. For four long years, he questioned why nobody was getting Black folks access to the beaches.

Gilbert's got an eye on all the protesting folks are doing around the Jim Crow South. The sit-ins at lunch counters, the fights to integrate schools after Brown v. Board of Education. Even the federal courts are ruling in favor of Black folks in civil rights cases.

Gilbert figures that Biloxi officials have to integrate the beaches. They're public property, so they should be open to everyone by law. This gives him something real to work with. He's tired of waiting for Mississippi to do right. He's not waiting anymore. Gilbert's got a plan, and it's going to make white folks mad. Biloxi Beach is supposed to be integrated.

But it ain't. It's public property, and separate but equal isn't constitutional. In May 1959, Gilbert heads down to the beach and other Black people join him. It's time for a wade-in, a peaceful protest where Black folks literally go wade in the water. They all probably nervous as hell. Fighting back against Jim Crow might get them killed.

Gilbert walks up the stairs to the mayor's office in Biloxi's city hall.

It's his first time meeting Mayor Laz Cuave. The mayor stays on some BS. He's always trying to impress white people and intimidate black folks. Gilbert steps into the mayor's office. I know you already know why I'm here, Mr. Mayor. We've got police saying the beach is private property. Now we both know that's a lie. I figured you could clear things up.

Gilbert peers at the mayor over the rim of his glasses. Why can't black folks use Biloxi Beach? The mayor raises an eyebrow and looks Gilbert up and down. It's the law. I don't know what else to tell you. He looks down at his desk and starts shuffling papers around. Let me see the law. Seems to me the Supreme Court didn't take a liking of it. Ruling came down just last year.

Gilbert tilts his head to the side and folds his hand in his lap. "Show me exactly where it says black folks can't be on the beach." "I think you've forgotten who you're talking to, Gilbert." "No, I haven't. You're the mayor sitting here talking about the law. I'm just sorting out which law you mean." A small smile flickers across Gilbert's face.

You're the man who's supposed to serve all the people in Biloxi, or am I mistaken? The mayor turns red as he drums his fingers across his desk. You come down here accusing me of being a segregationist? You're just looking for an excuse to bring in the NAACP, ain't you? You got a lot of questions, Mr. Mayor, but no answers. I work with the NAACP.

But ain't no reason to bring them down here if they're not needed. I got a right to see the book with the law in it. Show me what it says. Us black folks can't be on that public beach. Well, the book ain't here. I can't wait. Why don't you have someone run and get it? The mayor's quiet. He leans over the desk so close he can feel the doctor's breath.

"Look here, Gilbert. The law is the law. And if you and your people go back down the beach, y'all ain't coming back." Gilbert knows the mayor don't give a damn about civil rights. But being bold enough to threaten murder? Oh, that's too far. Is that a threat? The mayor wipes sweat off his forehead. His eyes are downcast and he starts shuffling through his papers again. "You heard me." Gilbert shakes his head and leaves.

His wife stands right outside the door. Her hands covers her mouth as she searches her husband's eyes. She heard the mayor's ice cold death threat. Clear as day. But Gilbert ain't come this far to give up. Like the mayor said, the law is the law. If he keeps organizing weigh-ins and if the cops keeps kicking him off the beach, there's a chance he can bring his fight to court.

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Gilbert needs a lawyer, but there isn't a Black one on the Mississippi Gulf Coast. So he hires a white attorney in Gulfport. The lawyer pulls receipts on Harrison County. They show two things. A lot of public money is spent on Biloxi Beach, and there's definitely no law that says Black folks can't use the beach. The facts are on their side. The hard part is getting politicians and white locals to change their actions.

Gilbert decides to do a county-wide weigh-in. They're going the lawsuit route. The cops will arrest folks left and right at such a huge protest, and they'll challenge those arrests. The protesters will probably lose in the local courts, but that just paves the way for appeals to the U.S. Supreme Court. They reach out to friends and Black organizers asking for their support in the weigh-in.

They have rallies to get people excited to show up, and the numbers are on their side. The committee calls its plan Operation Surf. It's scheduled to go down on Easter Sunday. The air is filled with the winds of change. On April 17th, 1960, at 1 p.m., Gilbert rolls up to Biloxi Beach. His hand shakes when he cuts the engine and parks next to a lighthouse. He takes a deep breath and...

His next actions will prove deadly. But what are his options really? He can take a chance and risk dying or stay a second-class citizen forever. He climbs out of the car. Confidence replaces the fear that races through his veins. It feels like a pilgrimage of a thousand steps, but it won't take long to reach the shore. He squints as he looks out at the ocean. The tide is high. The waves roar like trucks crashing into one another.

Gilbert feels sick.

More people showed up a year ago at the first wade-in he ever organized. He hadn't done nearly as much planning then. Where is everyone now? Disappointment weighs him down and he walks slowly into the water, all alone. It doesn't take long for a cop to show up. The officer recognizes him, but he still says Gilbert's gotta go. Being known doesn't mean much when you're Black. The cop arrests Gilbert and charges him with disturbing the peace and disorderly conduct.

Operation Surf is supposed to be a huge event. It flops harder than a washed up rapper who need to get off of Instagram and is living the 90s. It ain't like Gilbert to let white folks win, though. He organizes another way then. It's going to be in a week. This time, he hopes he ain't alone.

On April 24th, Gilbert steps outside of his office. It's a beautiful day, warm but not too hot. The air is still, but the street is alive. Gilbert's surrounded by more than 100 protesters. They're not going to let him end up at that beach alone. Not again.

A smile stretches across his face and tears shine in his eyes. Gilbert takes off his glasses, pinches the bridge of his nose, and draws in a shaky breath. He can't cry. Not now. He's got work to do. A bunch of white guys with walkie-talkies linger nearby. They're not a part of the group, but they're watching everybody's moves. Gilbert won't be intimidated. He's got a whole army around him.

Apparently, the white people do too. The white folks are showing their asses too. They beat unarmed protesters with bats and pipes. Some of them swing thick chains. A hurled brick strikes a protester in the back. Gilbert stares around at all the chaos, horrified. Is any of this worth it?

At least 400 angry white folks surround the protesters in the water. And the sheriff's deputies do nothing. They just keep their distance from the mob of bloodthirsty racists. Like they don't want to get hurt. Typical. A cop grabs Gilbert by the collar and tells him he's under arrest. Gilbert looks at all the folks yelling for help on the beach. I can't go with you just yet. There's too many that still need my help. The cop stares at Gilbert.

His jaw muscles working as he thinks about what to do. He steps close to the doctor. You do what you need to do. He stands so close, the shoes almost touch. But if anything else happens, I know where you live, boy. It surprises him, but Gilbert snaps back into focus. He's got more important things to do right now. When he's done stitching up folks and setting bones, he turns himself in at the seating courthouse and jail.

He's charged with fighting in the public place and obstructing traffic. The waiting is over. The beaches are still segregated.

I think it's interesting that in this scene, we see the cops like watching everything going down and not intervening in any meaningful way against, you know, the Black folks who have every right to be there. And unfortunately, it just reminds me of like, like the scenes from Charlottesville, right? Like see, or even thinking about like January 6th, like how often people

White violence is allowed and police officers who are there who are supposedly there to like maintain law and order don't do anything in order to intervene and protect the people who are being mistreated or being outright abused.

Yeah, it's almost like from a philosophical standpoint, law enforcement sees those spectators whooping black folks as as a reinforcement of law and order because they see this as being unruly and defined. I also think this illustrates the long history of black folks having just very defined relationship with the law. You feel me on one end? We got a mayor and law enforcement saying black folks can't be on the beach. On the other end, we have a law that says that anybody can be on the beach.

So to me, it kind of really shows that black people have always already kind of been under the law in a way that regardless of what the law is, one is able to enforce it any way they want to. Just how we can have a person with 34 federal needs be able to run for president. But my daddy and them can't vote for who the president is. A week after the weigh-in, newspapers called Gilbert an instigator and too many believed the lies. He led a peaceful protest and the racists started a riot.

Gilbert and the other protesters are doing the best they can, but they need some backup. And the NAACP knows just who to send. Medgar Evers is that guy. He's the field secretary for the NAACP in Mississippi. His job is to set up new chapters of the organization, organize voter registration drives, and lead desegregation efforts.

Racists have it out for Evers. Evers' life is in danger pretty much wherever he goes. He investigated the lynchings of teenager Emmett Till several years ago, and racists have never forgotten. Evers hasn't either, and he rushes to give Biloxi activists guidance right after the weighed-in. See, Omega helped start the NAACP branch in Biloxi.

Gilbert is voted its first president. Evers pushes them to use the NAACP legal assistance, and they get affidavits from folks who have been barred from the beach. All 72 of them say they're down to be plaintiffs in a federal lawsuit against beach segregation.

Gilbert and the other NAACP organizers collect photos of the attacks at Biloxi Beach. On May 17, 1960, the U.S. Justice Department files suit in federal court. The protesters are ready to bring their case to the national stage.

Gilbert's passionate about the beaches, and he grows close to Evers. But he ain't in the NAACP just for the beaches and friendship. He wants segregation to end, period. He imagines a world where his son can go to beaches, schools, and parks and not be treated like an animal. Gilbert holds on to hope as the beach integration lawsuit works its way through the courts. Change might come sooner than he thinks. Still, Gilbert's getting antsy.

They ain't seeing a lot of progress on the Beach lawsuit. He wants the suit to move from the state courts right into the federal appeals court. They got to force some movement and he decides to plan another way then. If they can get a bunch of folks locked up, then they can appeal to the state Supreme Court and work their way up the chain.

Evers helps them play to wait in for Sunday, June 16th, 1963. But at the last minute, he gets called to Jackson, Mississippi. Police are arresting protesters after a wave of sit-ins and boycotts. He leaves Biloxi in a hurry and promises Gilbert he'll be back soon. Gilbert's left to lead a protest that might turn ugly. And Evers heads right into the eye of the storm. He don't feel right. He's worried about his friend.

Evers is one of the bravest men he's ever met, but he been had a target on his back. And Gilbert's nervous there might be more bloodshed. On June 12th, Gilbert's fears become reality. Medgar Evers is gunned down on his own doorstep by a Klansman. He clutches an NAACP t-shirt that says, Jim Crow must go as he dies.

Gilbert is devastated and mourns the death of his friend. He shoulders this burden like so many others and carries his friend's casket at the funeral. The weighed-in was postponed a week because of Evers' funeral. Gilbert's never backed down in the face of death before. There's no reason to start now. Evers would tell him to keep going. The doctor's heart is heavy and his patience is thin. It's time to force the change he believes in.

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On June 23rd, Gibber goes back to Biloxi Beach with more than 70 protesters. They plant black flags in the sand in honor of Mega Everett's memory.

But white folks won't let them have no peace. Local homeowners rail against intruders on private property. Nothing but lies.

That's cool with Gilbert. He watches calmly as dozens of comrades are arrested and taken to jail. Gilbert's bailed out and he works on bailing out everyone else. 71 people are found guilty of trespassing in city court. Gilbert's considered a repeat offender and gets the max punishment. He's sentenced to pay $100 and do 30 days in jail. It's a fine he's happy to pay.

The plan's already in motion. Desegregation's the goal for many civil rights leaders, including Gilbert, and his fight plays into the movement's hands. They're pushing for a civil rights act that'll make segregation illegal in all public places, including public beaches. In June of 1963, activists' work bears fruit. President John F. Kennedy proposes a civil rights bill that bans discrimination in public places.

We have a right to expect that the Negro community will be responsible, will uphold the law. But they have a right to expect the law will be fair, that the Constitution will be colorblind. JFK calls segregation a moral issue and presses Americans to support the bill. His speech is promising. Still, protesters know they have to keep staging demonstrations and fighting in court while they wait on federal action.

Gilbert's got to be patient as the city trespassing cases move through local court. They eventually make their way up the ladder to the county. 29 protesters appeal their convictions. On November 20th, 1963, the trial begins at Harrison County Court. The Harrison County courtroom is packed full of Black folks. Gilbert stares at the judge. The judge swells up and down. The case ain't got nothing to do with integration.

that it's just about trespassing and nothing else. But Gilbert knows better. White folks real good at playing ignorant when it benefits them. November 21st is the first day of testimonies. The protesters are up against a jury of 12 white men. Prosecutors are doing their best to make it look like the defendants trespassed on white folks' property on purpose. It's not looking good. Gilbert's lawyer, R. Jess Brown, calls them up to the stand.

Several of the jurors shoot each other sideways glances. The rabble rouse themselves, looks calmly around the room. Most of the white folks in this city see all civil rights work I do and want me gone. Most of them in this courtroom too. What do you mean by that? Isn't it obvious? You ever known a black man to get a fair trial in an all-white jury of white folks? So you're saying there's no way this trial could ever be fair?

I'm saying I live in the deep South. The trespass and arrest weren't fair in the first place. Nothing about Jim Crow ever is. White folks can use the beach without harassment. We use the beach and end up here.

The room grows tight as a drum with tension. Gilbert straightens his back as he leaves the witness stand. He can feel the eyes of the white men and women bore into his back. He's never let them see him afraid. He's not about to change that now. Things in Mississippi feel like they'll never change, and Biloxi will always be the same segregated place. But change creeps slowly forward, like waves rolling in during high tide.

In February 1964, the trespassing appeals are up in the air. Gilbert and the others were found guilty, and now they're pressing their case into Mississippi's circuit court. There's no room for disappointment now. They're just excited. All the wait-ins and work they've done pushing their civil rights cases into higher courts might finally pay off. The House of Representatives approves a civil rights bill, and the bill moves to the Senate.

But Republicans and conservative Democrats in the Senate reject its terms. Florida's Democratic Senator George Smathers says he won't vote for the bill. I think it's been rather clearly demonstrated that in trying to give certain people what they call their freedoms, you do not want to take freedom away from a majority of other people.

Typically, you have a lot of people that experience privilege and power and dominance that view the protection and rights of other people as like pa, meaning that other people gain it. They feel like they lose some. And I feel like that's just like a part of like the structural way that like white supremacy and white privilege is just baked into the fabric of America. What you think?

Yeah. I mean, I think that they assume it's a one for one. It's like, well, we took away your rights. So obviously you're going to want to take away ours, which I mean, logistically speaking, it's that thing of like, how fortunate are you that we're not looking for revenge in that way where it's like, OK, you did this to us. We're going to do it back. We've just been acting, asking for fair treatment. We've just been asking for equal rights.

And unfortunately, people do see it that way as well. If you get ahead, then that means that I can't get ahead or that it's at my detriment. And that's just not the case. So some could see that projection as being like white guilt or being like, you know, damn, because we did child like this. I know you're going to get your look back eventually. You know, I'm going to make sure I restrict and regulate that not being able to be the case. Yeah.

On July 2nd, 1964, President Lyndon B. Johnson speaks to the American people. My fellow Americans, I'm about to sign into law the Civil Rights Act of 1964. And he for sure signs it. The Civil Rights Act of 1964 becomes law.

All public facilities across the country, including beaches, must be integrated. Gilbert and other movement leaders finally have a huge win. Desegregation don't happen overnight, but eventually all public beaches are integrated.

The Civil Rights Act transforms beaches, but it also changes Gilbert Mason's life. Medgar Evers helped Gilbert realize they had to attack the problem of beach segregation from a few angles. They had to put boots on the ground, they had to pressure the politicians, and they had to go through the courts. But Biloxi Beach is still closed to Black people after the Civil Rights Act is passed. The legal battle that Gilbert started over Black access to public beaches drags on.

The case finally goes to trial in December of 1964. That's more than four years after the Justice Department filed suit over segregation on Mississippi beaches. It takes longer than it should, but change on Mississippi beaches comes August 16th, 1968. The United States Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals rules that beaches on the Mississippi Gulf Coast are public property.

Beaches in Biloxi are now open to everyone. Gilbert and his crew catch another wind. In 1970, the federal courts reversed the convictions of all the activists found guilty of trespassing during the Everest Memorial Wade-In. This is what Gilbert Mason wanted. He put in all those years healing folks through civil rights work. But he never stopped using medicine to heal folks, too.

Around 1970, he starts working for the U.S. Public Health Service. Sailors and fishermen start seeing Dr. Mason as patients. More white folks are coming to his practice than ever before. And some of those white folks and their families were the very ones fighting Dr. Mason and his friends on the beaches. A whole lot can change in a couple of decades. See, one thing that ain't gonna change...

Gilbert's commitment to black folks' progress. In the 80s and 90s, he gets folks to vote for the black city officials and calls out racism at the Air Force Base in Biloxi. He's done a lot to take care of other people. But by the time he's in his 70s, it's time for Gilbert to take care of himself. In 2002, he retires from his medical practice. A few years later, he has a stroke that takes a huge toll on his health.

He dies July 8th, 2006. Gilbert Mason's success wasn't about what one man could do. It showed how important organization, Solidarity, was on that long road to integration across the country. From dirty, segregated Black beaches to beaches where Black folks could kick it freely in the sun...

Beaches aren't places where we go to run from white folks anymore. They're places where we honor our ancestors and hold on to our histories, where we find pleasure without the shadow of racism looming. You can't put a price on that kind of freedom.

If you like Black History for Real, you can listen early and ad-free right now by joining Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Prime members can listen ad-free on Amazon Music. Before you go, tell us about yourself by filling out a short survey at wondery.com slash survey.

This is episode two of our two-part series, Black Beaches. We use multiple sources when researching our stories, but Beaches, Blood, and Ballots by Dr. Gilbert Mason and the Civil Rights History Project were extremely helpful. A note, our scenes contain reenactments and dramatized details for narrative cohesiveness. Black History for Real is hosted by me, Francesca Ramsey.

and me, Consciously. Black History for Real is a production of Wondery. This episode was written by Eves Jeffcoat. Sound design by Ken Nana. The theme song is by Terrace Martin. Lindsay Gomez is the development producer. The coordinating producer is Taylor Sniffin. Sophia Martins is our managing producer. The associate producer is Sonia May.

Our senior producers are Matt Gant and Morgan Givens. The executive producers for Wondery are Marsha Louis, Aaron O'Flaherty, and Candice Malik-Azrin. Wondery.

Hey, I'm Mike Corey, the host of Wondery's podcast, Against the Odds. In each episode, we share thrilling true stories of survival, putting you in the shoes of the people who live to tell the tale. In our next season, it's July 6th, 1988, and workers are settling into the night shift aboard Piper Alpha, the world's largest offshore oil rig.

Home to 226 men, the rig is stationed in the stormy North Sea off the coast of Scotland. At around 10 p.m., workers accidentally trigger a gas leak that leads to an explosion and a fire. As they wait to be rescued, the workers soon realize that Piper Alpha has transformed into a death trap. Follow Against the Odds wherever you get your podcasts. You can listen ad-free on Amazon Music or the Wondery app.