The Manhattan Cafe

I I stroll down the street, the memories vivid, Emblazoned in my mind. A young hispanic boy, his arm around an anglo girl, Get in line at the movie house. Nothing abnormal here, everything is just, Hunky dory. People walking in to get a meal at the diner. People, of all persuasions, Whites, hispanics, blacks, all smiling, Thinking what the special is today. No tension, no stares, no angry words. II Many years ago, this was the Manhattan Cafe. It was the best diner in town, Great food, great service, good prices. And a big sign at the entrance that said, 'No Mexicans Allowed.' And of course, if there were any blacks this far south, They wouldn't be allowed either. III But it wasn't just the cafe that didn't allow Mexicans. The whole town was divided, by the railroad, That ran right down the middle of town. The south side was the Mexican side, The north was the anglo side. As a matter of fact, the south side was called, El Pueblo Mexicano, Mexican town, The north side was El Pueblo Americano, The white side of town. IV You had better be on your side of the tracks after dark, If you were hispanic, or of a darker persuasion. It wasn't until the seventies, that things changed. And then you still needed to know your place. You would never have seen, an hispanic boy, With an anglo girl, or vice versa. My how things have changed, Now I live, On the north side of town. (8/29/11-Alton Texas)