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Chauncey Spencer
" I'm no paragon of virtue;
REQUIEM FOR A PATRIOT
An Honorable Poetic Tribute in Memory
of
CHAUNCEY EDWARD SPENCER
By L. Garnell Stamps
Friday, August 23 2002
Wife of an American Hero
And
Daughter-in-Law of a Great American Poet
Sunday, September 2, 2002
Eighth Street Baptist Church
Requiem for a Patriot
By L. Garnell Stamps
Earth: Receive your honored guest;
Chauncey Spencer’s laid to rest,
As his booming voice foretold.
He was ninety-five years old.
Husband, Father, Airman, Friend,
He was Chauncey till the end.
Call him forward, call him back,
Just don't ever call him black!
“We’re All Americans!” he would say,
“And there’s no other way!
Color simply plays no part!”
Chauncey roared with all his heart.
That’s one hang-up Chauncey had;
Call him black and make him mad.
“Underneath we're all the same,
Call me simply by my name.”
Chauncey Edward Spencer – Man!
Neither Black...nor Brown...nor Tan,
Nothing more - and nothing less,
That - for him - should be the test.
In the poems your mother wrote,
She said “Black," I'd often note.
Chauncey then would grunt and stare
With his enigmatic glare.
It was not he was ashamed;
Just do not call him by that name.
Prod...and scold...to make him flinch,
Chauncey would not give an inch!
Wave the banner long and high,
Just one color till you die!
Chauncey, who was slightly deaf,
Sometimes argued by himself.
Even when you’d turn him off,
He would rant...and rage...and cough,
“Leave the color thing alone!
And don't call me on the phone!”
So laugh and shed your joyous tears;
Chauncey lived a hundred years;
Set forever in his ways,
Needing no one else's praise.
Chances are...he went up there,
Driving angels to despair.
Satan spurned him down below,
Where he'd surely steal the show.
See him at the Pearly Gates,
Telling why he got there late.
Even God was prone to smile,
Guiding Chauncey down the isle.
When he found his wings were Black,
Chauncey had a heart attack
But they don't have those things up there,
High above the mystic air!
Finally he settled down,
Awed before the Glory Crown;
But once more he had a shock,
When he saw the angel flock
Some were Brown…and some were Red;
O the swimming in his head!
Some were White...and some were Tan...
And some the color of my hand!
He approached the Throne of Grace
And asked Saint Peter - face to face -
“Is the gang of six up here?
If they are...I'll shed a tear!”
“Thornhill...Mangum...Haskins...Stamps
Robinson...Johnson - they gave me cramps!
Liberal this, and liberal that;
Please don't show them where I’m at."
“Glory seekers
one and all,
Bragging that they're standing tall.”
Did he hate us? No indeed!
It was just our racial creed.
He said we complained too much -
That we lacked the common touch!
He could never understand
Demonstrations hand-in-hand.
Nor would he explain to us
Why he loved Falwell so much.
“Race divides,” Old Chauncey said,
“Like the hair upon my head...”
“One great flag to serve us all,”
Was his firm and final call.
“What is Africa to me,
But a land across the sea...”
“And the ships...and whips and slaves?
Distant echoes from the grave.”
O, If only he could see
Troops of Black men...just like me!
Born to break the yoke in part
And expose the human heart,
Born to fight to set us free
In this land of liberty.
Thus the Black...and Red...and Green
Say exactly what we mean.
What we live for, so did he;
And I guess we'll let it be.
One day, not too long ago,
I heard Chauncey tell me so:
We'll agree to disagree,
And we'll do so decently…
Garnell, argue front and back;
Just don't tell me that you're Black!
Since he's crossed the great eons,
Let him fuss with Vernon Johns.
Carol Ann, Luann and Shaun,
I don't mean a bit of harm.
Mrs. Spencer, Mike, and Kyle,
I would walk a hundred miles...
For your father and his deeds.
For his wants and for his needs.
Chauncey Junior, you should know
That opinions come and go.
All the while, we made amends
And remained the best of friends!
In the crowded ways we go,
Who is right? We'll never know.
So earth, receive your honored guest;
Chauncey Spencer's laid to rest.
If I dare say, yes, I'm Black.
Watch out, world! - He’s coming back.
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