On July 4, 1961, Audrey Lenon was swimming at Jefferson Park pool. At the time, it was the only public pool open to African Americans in Lynchburg, Virginia. The day was hot, with temperatures in the mid-80s. One might imagine the pool was packed.
And then the police arrived.
“We were in the water and there was a ramp that you walked down to get to the pool,” Lenon, who was 15 at the time, recalled. “We looked up and it was lined with police officers. They told us to get out of the water. No explanation.”
Lenon said she and the other swimmers were “herded … like we were criminals,” told to gather their things and leave. The police refused to answer any questions.
“We asked, ‘What happened?’ and ‘Why are you closing the pool?’ but we didn’t get any answers,” she said. “We were just told to put our clothes on and the pool was closed. That’s all they said, no why it’s closed. I guess they didn’t feel like they needed to tell us. … Do they really need to give a child an explanation?”
What Lenon didn’t know at the time, what she heard later on the evening news, was that something had happened across town at the whites-only Miller Park pool. Something that had caused the police to come Jefferson Park, something that would ruin a summer holiday so full of fun and promise and essentially put an end to summer.
On that Independence Day, 55 years ago, six black boys and an adult civil rights leader tried to buy tickets to Miller Park pool, one of two city pools open only to whites. The newspapers, no doubt familiar with sit-ins happening at lunch counters all over the country, would call it a “wade-in” and “swim-in.”
The City of Lynchburg’s response to this act of civil disobedience was to close all of its pools.
In a newspaper article the next day, City Manager Robert Morrison said the pools were closed as a “matter of public safety.” The same article also listed the boys’ names and their parents’ names and addresses.
An editorial titled, “Closing the Pools,” which ran a few days later, blamed “militant Negro leaders” and their “sense of justice” for what happened that day:
Now, each of these pools has been drained. Negro leaders forcing the issue knew that this would be the result of any attempt to integrate either of the pools used by whites. Perhaps, today, they are proud of their accomplishment and consider their ‘sense of justice’ somewhat satisfied.
It’s true, the wade-in didn’t come as a big surprise to city officials. It was all part of a bigger initiative organized by local civil rights leaders to desegregate public facilities. One of these activists was Virgil Wood, who was then pastor of Diamond Hill Baptist Church.
Wood said city officials had known about the plans for a wade-in and told him the pools would be closed if they actually did it. Wood also described the city manager as a “very decent man” who seemed to be a victim of the times.
“I think he didn’t believe in the old way, but he was trapped in having to carry out what he didn’t believe in,” Wood said. “That was my impression. We also had a high level of respect for each other. We didn’t do sneak attacks. We also gave them the opportunity to do what was right before we challenged it.”
What the City of Lynchburg did that day was similar to what nearby Prince Edward County had done two years before as part of what was called the “Massive Resistance.” Prince Edward closed all of its public schools, rather than allow blacks and whites to attend school together.
The prevailing opinion was that while federal law said schools must be integrated, no one said you had to have public schools.
Regarding Lynchburg’s pools, Morrison told a reporter, “The city does not have the right to deny any citizens admission to a pool operated by the city of Lynchburg. The only way to legally prevent their admission is by closing the pools.”
Two weeks after the pools were closed, Brian Robinson, a 12-year-old African-American boy, drowned while swimming in a canal lock in downtown Lynchburg. According to a newspaper account of the drowning, he would have normally cooled off at Jefferson Park pool.
Robinson’s death was blamed on Wood and others in the local civil rights movement. An editorial in the July 23 newspaper reads, in part, “Because the pools were closed by the wade-in, as city authorities had always said they would be if such a move was made, it’s easy enough to see where the responsibility lies.”
Three city pools closed on July 4, 1961, at Miller, Jefferson and Riverside parks. Eventually, the pools were filled with dirt and grass was planted.
Today, the only visible evidence of the three pools is at Riverside Park, where you’ll find a large rectangle of sod, surrounded by a stone pool deck. In what was the deep end, you can still see the concrete sides and the metal rings, through which ropes once ran around the pool’s perimeter.
A year or so ago, the city installed an interpretive sign at Riverside Park that tells the story of what happened to the city’s pools in 1961.
As for what Lenon and her friends did on that summer day 55 years ago, after the police had locked the gate and left, it appears they tried to make the best of it.
“There was a concession stand as you were entering the pool,” she said. “The lady kept it open. It was Fourth of July. Kids needed something to do. She kept it open, so we bought food and just sat on the hill and looked at the water.”
Appetite 4 History 
This is such a sad and tragic story. The audacity to blame any of this on the civil rights leaders and those children by listing their names, address, etc. was a total disgrace. If any of those involved are still alive they need to make a public apology to those that were wrongly blamed. I know some will say that things were “different” back then, but that’s no excuse for the pain that I am sure all of this caused those families.
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I remember as a white child the closing it was saddening and confusing.
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The rest of the story — Bev Cosby responded to the closure of the public pools by inviting all children, regardless of color, to swim in the pool at Camp Kum Ba Yah. The parents of many white campers reacted by pulling their children out of the camp, but Cosby stood firm and things gradually changed. For those reasons, the pool at Camp Kum Ba Yah is a significant place in the history of the civil rights movement in Lynchburg, although many people may not know it.
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That, too, is a great story. Thanks for sharing it.
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Wow! Brian Robinson was a relative of mine. I heard the story of his drowning, but never knew the details. Thanks for this.
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Wow! Somewhere, I have a copy of the newspaper article. If I can find it (it’s been a while since I did the research for this story) I’ll get you a copy. There are more details in the article.
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I know this is a long shot, but do you still have the articles? I’d love to share it with my HS students
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Actually, I do. Sending you an email.
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I found the articles I was telling you about. I scanned them and could email them to you. Could you please send me your email address? Thanks!
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can you please ail me a copy to missyelliott45@gmail.com
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I just saw your response. If you could, please send it. Shica.bowen@gmail.com
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Could you send it to
me also? My
Email is
kgates@ves.org
Thank you for considering!
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Is there any chance you could send them to me too? I am a high school student and I will be making a documentary about this very topic. Lamason73@lcsedu.net
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How sad to read this personal account of that day. While I had not been born yet at the time this occurred, I had often wondered why local park pools in Lynchburg were closed and filled in with dirt. When I would ask older generations in my white community, I was told that they weren’t quite sure why the pools were closed, but “it had something to do with a problem with blacks in the area.” It is so very important that we learn and pass down history to the next generation so that we don’t repeat mistakes of the past.
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When did the E C Glass pool get filled in
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The E.C. Glass and Dunbar pools were built in about 1965 as integrated pools. When the new pool was built at Miller Park in 1986, it replaced both of these pools.
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This was a beautiful pool site set amid the trees. It was our social summer fun place to be. Lynchburg. Oh Lynchburg! I won’t go to a public pool even today. I just can’t do it. We could hear the dump trucks constantly carrying to dirt and garbage to fill in the pool back then from our front porch. Then, about a year ago, the city thinks that that garbage is escaping fumes or chemicals in the air. You have to pay for your mistakes, Lynchburg.
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I grew up here, though I originated out of Cleveland Ohio, the day spoken about was the first time I had been taken to a pool anywhere,so I was looking forward to being in that pool.After waiting about an hour we were told to leave the pool was closing. I had no idea this meant permanently,I went home disappointed. Finally word was out on the news about the closings of all pools in the city,so I bought a wading pool,& soaked at home,not quite the same! Until 1965 we had no where to go for pool pleasures. Then the opening of Dunbar & E.C.Glass came & at last I felt like someone had opened a new door for us, now we had a choice of places to go for pleasure. Lynchburg has had it’s share of misfortunes,no question about it, but for some reason it seems to thrive on slow growth current wise, the city holds to old ways too long. By the time we get in the swing of things, we seem to be way behind.I compare this city with Newport News Va., they, for years had not had segregated practices on matters such as this and hiring practices in the stores. I’m speaking of years 1958,& later, for some reason 200 miles away, it seems like time just stands still on important matters.
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Thank you for putting this story together. I’m from Lynchburg and have known Mrs. Lenon my whole life and went to school with both of her children.
Where can I find the editorials mentioned in this story? I’ll check with Jones Memorial too.
Thanks again.
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Thanks, Brent! The articles came from the News & Advance archives. I’m not sure if they let anyone look at the archives anymore. Jones might be able to hook you up, however, with the papers on microfilm. Most of the dates, that I remember, were around July 4, 1961, and the weeks afterward.
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This was mind blowing for me. I was born in 1961, and I had never heard of this history. I was a tiny baby, when all of this was happening. My mother never told me about this event happening. By the time I turned 6, the schools were about to integrate. It is as a baby I lived though this ugly side of Lynchburg’s history. Now I am hungry for more stories like this, about my hometown. We have made progress, but keep taking backwards steps. We need to move swiftly forward in love with one another together! All human beings are special, and we need one another.
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Thank you for reading. A playwright is currently working on a play about this for Endstation Theatre, in Lynchburg. I shared this story and my research with him a year or so ago. Hopefully, it will be performed at some point. I’ve also envisioned a sculpture or mural for Miller Park, where it happened. Imagine this: a sculpture/mural showing boys and the civil rights workers, waiting to buy tickets to the pool, towels and swimsuits in their hands, and nervous or exited or determined looks on their faces. I can see it in my head, but unfortunately, not in my wallet! Maybe it could happen someday, though!
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I remember how lovely the pool at Riverside Park was and what an absolute waste it was when it was filled in. Of course white families who could afford it could join a swim or country club. I also remember teaching swimming at the Dunbar High School or Glass High School pool, not nearly as nice and they may have been integrated during school hours, but not during recreational time, then only African Americans used them while the whites used their clubs. It is a shame that Lynchburg cut off its nose to spite itself, thus harming all the tax payers who didn’t have enough money or whiteness to go to a private pool.
BTW, the schools didn’t exactly integrate in in the 1960’s, only a few African Americans were sent to the white schools, Dunbar Jr and Sr High remained all African American until 1970, when Linkhorne and Sandusky Jr High’s integrated and took all the 7th and 8th graders, all 9th and most of the 10th grade went to Dunbar which became only a High School, and the work study 10th graders and 11th and 12th grades went to Glass. It was only students that were integrated, the staff also got mixed up a bit.
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My two brothers, Joe and Mitch, and I were among the five white children swimming in Bev Cosby’s Camp Kum-Ba-Yah pool who did not exit the pool on that July day when the African American children arrived for a nice swim on a horrendously hot July day. A multitude of our white neighborhood friends were offended by our new African American guests and displayed extensively abusive words and gestures toward them and then to me and my brothers over the next two years.
On that day, Bev Cosby invited everyone to enter and enjoy the pool. His invitations were met with obscenities and scorn. My brothers and I were equal targets of scorn from friends and neighbors, and throughout succeeding months. We were said to be “Communists”, “Nigg__ Lovers” and traitors.
While my brothers and I found life-long friendships among our new pool guests, we gained lifelong insights into the damages and barriers that societal prejudice impose. We had an opportunity to observe how institutional wrongs should be reversed. I value the lessons I learned on that July day and during the ensuing months and years of being targeted for confronting my advocacy for civility and equality.
John Randolph “Randy” Nelson, Esquire
At-Large Member of The Lynchburg City Council 2010 – 2022
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Thanks for sharing your memories, Randy, and thanks for reading!
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I was 16 when all of this happened. I knew nothing about the wade in but remember the Riverside pool being closed and grassed over. I didn’t understand segregation even then. I blamed the city and had no idea what they thought would happen if we swam together. Around the same time the first black boy came to E C Glass, Owen Caldwell, if I remember correctly. I thought he was so brave. He was driven to and from school and I would watch him and hope he got through the day safely. It was an interesting and sad time. Where might he now. So much has changed yet not as much as need be.
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Hi Jane! Thanks for reading! I actually work with Dr. Owen Cardwell now at the University of Lynchburg, where he is a professor in the College of Education, Leadership Studies and Counseling!
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