The Morgans are rejected by the Santa Monica Beach Club, circa 1983.

So the story, as my childhood mind remembers it, goes like this: My Dad submitted an application to the Santa Monica Beach Club. He attended the initial meetings, etc. on his own. Our family was accepted for membership.

When my Dad, a white man, went to sign the final paperwork, he took with him, his Black son, age 9 or 10. Upon laying eyes on my brother, the folks at the Santa Monica Beach Club told my father that there had been some sort of mistake and that the club was actually full. Application denied.

People near and far wax poetic about my father's gentle, calm, kind, and unflappable nature. And what they say is true. But there were a few exceptions to that general rule. This was one of them. For the rest of his days, the mere mention of the Santa Monica Beach Club would cause him to flip his lid. That, Princeton University, the Athenian School, Daryl Gates, and the improper cutting of a lemon. Watch out.

Here we are circa 1982.