CONFIDENTIAL FILE

That Sleeping Beauty always gets bussed by her handsome prince, or that
Cinderella's post midnight dreams always wind up with her dainty foot
encased in glass.

But I suffer from a chronic skepticism, only rarely relieved by the fairy-tale finale.

Somehow Scrooges "Bah humbug!" overpowers Tiny Tim's "God bless us, every one" when I'm tuned in.

Then a bunch of people suddenly get together and pour sugar all over my sour outlook on life.

So here I sit, on one of those rare occasions, with a sweet taste in my mouth.

Some months ago, I told you a story. I labeled it "A Story I'd Rather Not Print."

I told you about a 9-year-old youngster. A kid like almost every other kid.
   
Handsome, in the way a healthy 9-year-old is handsome. Well-dressed, well-mannered and smart.

Get the idea? Just a kid. Except for one important detail.

Butch Harris is a Negro.

And because his skin is black, a group of mothers, parents of other 8,
9, and 10-year-olds at the 87th Street School, denied Butch the right
to wear a Cub Scout uniform.

Butch, with the innocence of
kids his age, had accepted an invitation from Cub Pack 289 addressed to
ALL boys at the school to join the Cub group.

It never occurred to him that in some limited circles around town "ALL" is spelled "WHITE."

And it wasn't entirely innocence. He'd read a Scout pamphlet which said:

"It makes no difference whether he's a fat boy, a skinny bot, a tall
boy or a short boy – no difference where his mom and dad were born,
what their family bank account might be, or what church they attend.

"Nor does it make any difference what color skin a boy may have – Scouting's hand of fellowship is extended to him."
   
But when Butch reached out to grasp the hand, he got slapped.

Scout officials in Los Angeles took immediate action. Accept Butch or
disband the pack, they ordered. Those adults who directed the pack's
activities elected to take the latter course of action.

Yesterday, I got a letter from Butch's mother.

"I have been meaning to write to you," she said, "but I wanted to wait
until I could give you some good news on our situation."

The
good news was that some of California's citizens read about Butch and
decided that a 9-year-old deserves a better opinion of the adults in
this world than he'd been carrying around.

Lt. Gov. Glenn
Anderson invited Butch to Sacramento as his personal guest. Assemblyman
Charles Wilson was Butch's guide through the Assembly chamber. Butch
even served as an official page in both the Assembly and Senate for
part of the day he was in the state capital.

Sen. Richard Richards showed him around the upper house. Gov. Brown asked Butch to drop by his office for a private chat.

The overjoyed youngster capped the day with dinner at the lieutenant governor's home.