Richard Lewis
Richard's story
We interviewed Richard Lewis on a 102-degree day, and he seemed unfazed by the heat. Maybe it’s something he learned in the Air Force, or maybe he’s always been this way: sharp, self-possessed, different. "I'm not bashful," he told us. "And I think that gets me in trouble occasionally."
He said old friends don't call him 'Richard,' that everyone knows him as 'Bucky.' It's a surprising nickname for someone so dignified, but Gertha Clark confirmed it. She arrived for her interview just as he was leaving and recognized him – even though it had been years.
“I don’t know where the name came from,” he said. “It’s always been there."
Richard was born on the corner of Sherman and Central and describes his early life as "a good time in the sense that I was happy." When he talks about his childhood, he sounds like a lot of the people we interviewed: torn between the warmth and closeness of the community he remembers and the frustration of living under segregation. It's complicated, still.
He told us about being one of three high school seniors to integrate Central High School, which must have been intimidating. But he had that innate confidence and years of advice from his teachers at Lincoln High School.
He especially remembers Adah Fulbright. "She wasn't my favorite teacher at the time," he said, smiling. "But later I realized she was outstanding." She gave him clever tips like, "If at first the 'c' you spy, place the 'e' before the 'i.'" She told him that 'irregardless' isn't a word.
And she taught him how to approach an interview. "She told me, 'Look that so-and-so in the eye,'" he said, "'not down at the floor, not over to the side. Look him right in the eye.'"
Adah Fulbright, Lincoln School teacher (Photo from the Katherine Lederer Ozarks African American History Collection, Missouri State University)