I was working in a not-so-good neighborhood on the West Side of Chicago today, and one of my coworkers stepped across the street to get coffee at a greasy spoon called G & N Breakfast. The older gentleman who said he was the owner asked her nationality, she told him Irish, and he discerned that she is probably a democrat. Sloppily shoveling his breakfast into his mouth, he then asked if she worked at the school across the street and asked how she can stand working with all those niggers. She said that's not a word she is okay with, to which he said it should be fine to say that because they call each other that all the time. Of course, rather than realizing or caring that he had offended his customer, he went on spouting off anti Black statements and said the N in his business' name stood for niggers and the G for some other racial slur (Roughly 70% of his business would be African American on a day-to-day basis). She was mad, but remaining calm, she just told him that being Greek, he is only a few shades lighter than those he hates so much. This made him really mad, and he started spitting his hash browns all over the place while he yelling God knows what as she left.
Later I told the Mexican maintenance man (who I call Amigo and he calls me Amigo) at the work site about the exchange, and he said he has known that guy for years and he's a right prick who yells at his staff and calls them idiots all the time in front of customers. Amigo said he told the guy he would whip his ass if he ever talked to him like that. Apparently the owner was a Chicago cop who bought the place since 1959 after getting shot in the arm. Doesn't sound like his world view has changed much since 1959 . . .
So, if you ever want to get in a time machine and meet a real live racist from the days of the Civil Rights movement, go visit him at G & N Breakfast on the West Side of Chicago. If you would like to bring along some fire hoses and dogs to turn the tides on him, I certainly would not object.