by Ken Springer
Betty Reid Soskin
The Oldest National Park Service Ranger and a force to be reckoned with as well
“They don’t say those ugly things in your presence; they say them behind your back.” Betty Reid Soskin
At 19, I went to work for the Ohio Department of Natural Resources surveying a large swath of swamp in northeast Ohio that would become the Mosquito Creek Wildlife Area. My goal was to get my foot in the door at ODNR so that, when I was 21, I could become a park ranger, and that strategy worked.
The year was 1970, when I was assigned to a large park in southwest Ohio as a ranger. In the four years I worked there, I never saw a female or a person of color serving as a ranger; women were either office staff or, at best, a park naturalist.
I remember a park personnel meeting when a very capable young woman who worked in the park office expressed her desire to become a park ranger. The male rangers laughed aloud at the prospect of a woman doing “their” job. In a slight variation of Walter Cronkite’s nightly sign-off, “And that’s the way it was.”
The reason I mention this as a prelude to talking about Betty Reid Soskin is that women and people of color have had many hurdles and prejudices to overcome. Given that, Betty Reid Soskin was just the person to break down the barriers of racism and was a vocal advocate of women’s rights throughout her life.
Betty lived many lives as her long life unfolded. She would, over the years, become a civil rights activist, author, singer-songwriter, entrepreneur, and a National Park Service Ranger, beginning at age 85 and retiring at 100. To include all of Betty’s many experiences in a single article would require a voluminous book. So, consider this an overview of Betty’s storied life of 104 years and her magnanimous contribution to civil rights in particular, and to society as a whole.
Born in Detroit, Michigan, in 1921 to a Creole father and a Cajun mother originally from Louisiana, Betty would often say that she was “racially ambiguous.” Betty never knew her great-grandmother, who died before she was born, but she knew that she was born into slavery in 1846. Her experiences were often discussed in her family and had a significant impact on Betty’s life.
Betty’s family moved to New Orleans but left in 1927 when the “Great Flood” nearly destroyed the city, particularly the Treme section. The only sections of New Orleans protected from the rising waters were the wealthier neighborhoods – go figure.
They then moved to Oakland, California, where Betty’s maternal grandfather lived following World War I. At this time in American history, the only jobs available for black men were those that whites did not want, such as waiters, bellhops, doormen and janitors. Black women generally did domestic work for white families for 50 cents per hour.
California was a common destination for black railroad workers, who took the only jobs available to them: waiters, chefs and sleeping-car porters. Often, black railroad workers would settle where the Southern Pacific and Santa Fe Railroad terminated in California, which offered better prospects and greater safety than the racist southern states.
As a young woman, Betty vividly remembered the Port Chicago ammunition ship explosion.
On July 17, 1944, a catastrophic explosion occurred at the Port Chicago Naval Magazine in California, killing 320 people, most of whom were African American sailors loading munitions. The explosion was attributed to unsafe working conditions and lack of training, leading to a subsequent mutiny by 258 sailors who refused to resume loading ammunition under the same hazardous circumstances, resulting in severe legal repercussions for the “Port Chicago 50” who were charged with mutiny, sending many of the African Americans to prison for up to 18 years.
This appalling reaction did not apply to the white workers. The horrific event and its fallout served to awaken Betty to the racial biases towards African-Americans and civil rights for all, which would later be a central theme in her life. She wanted people to know what was rarely, if ever, honestly talked about.
Betty married Melvin Reid in 1943 during World War II, and she briefly worked as a civilian file clerk for the Air Force. She inevitably ran into condescending racism in her job. The manager told her, “I’ve talked to everyone, and they are willing to work with you.” Betty replied, yes, but are they willing to work under me?” “No,” he said, “but we will see that you get your pay raises.” At that, she promptly grabbed her jacket and left.
Betty and her husband opened one of the few black-owned record stores in 1945, called Reid’s Records in Berkeley. Reid’s Records specialized in jazz, blues, and gospel. Its doors remained open for nearly 75 years, and it expanded its collection in the 1960s to include the soulful voices of Aretha Franklin, Sam Cooke, Al Green, and many other black performers.
People of color were prohibited from living in the wealthier parts of Berkeley, such as in the hills above the town. (This author lived in Berkeley and Vallejo during the 1960s, and, as a San Francisco Chronicle paperboy, I can attest that there were no people of color living above Shattuck Avenue.)
Betty and Melvin had four children and wanted to see that they got the best education available. They built a house in suburban Walnut Creek, a notably white neighborhood. To even buy property there, the Reids had to get a white friend to stand in for them at the closing.
In an interview, Betty talked about the many death threats and rocks thrown at their house in the middle of the night while living in Walnut Creek.
When a poor black couple that Betty knew saved up enough money to buy a modest house in a low-income community, Betty went to bat for them and arranged the purchase. To prevent this couple’s incursion into the mostly white neighborhood, the Neighborhood Improvement Association called for a meeting.
Despite an attorney’s warning that if Betty attended the meeting, she would be hurt by what she would hear, she went anyway, saying, “They don’t say those ugly things in your presence; they say them behind your back.”
Because Betty was, as she often said, racially ambiguous, no one noticed her in the meeting. It shortly became clear that the meeting was an effort to keep people of color out of their neighborhood. Betty had had enough when a woman in the meeting stood up and said, “If we can’t get rid of them, we can use the Health Department based on the unhealthy diseases they bring in.”
The narrative of Betty’s long life reads just like the previous example, helping others and setting the record straight when ugly things are swept under the rug. Many people today would like to rewrite history, but that is a fool’s errand; sooner or later, the truth shines through.
Betty Reid Soskin was involved in the development of the Rosie the Riveter World War II Home Front National Historical Park in Richmond, California, where she was living. Betty brought the planning committee’s attention to the many contributions of Afri-can Americans during World War II.
Rosie the Riveter is best remembered for the “We Can Do It” poster depicting a white woman flexing her arm to encourage women to join the wartime workforce. Betty informed the park service that Rosie the Riveter was only for white women until later in the war, when it was necessary to hire black Rosies. And, indeed, 800,000 black women stepped forward to admirably perform the duties of Rosie the Riveter.
She, as did the park officials, felt that the Port Chicago explosion and its impact on black workers should be included in the park’s interpretive section.
In 1985, the National Park Service recruited Betty Reid Soskin as a full-fledged park ranger stationed at the park she helped design. She always wore her uniform, saying,” I wear my uniform at all times because when I’m on the street or in an elevator, I’m making every little girl of color aware of a career choice she may not have known she had.”
Betty wore that uniform for 15 years, retiring from the National Park Service at 100 years of age. She passed away after an extraordinary life on December 21, 2025.
Recently, much to our collective shame, some in our own government not only condone but encourage bigotry. Racism is the province of cowards and the ignorant. We need more people in this world like Betty Reid Soskin to make us look deeply into the mirror and, hopefully, find our hearts and souls.
“What gets remembered is determined by who is in the room doing the remembering.” ~ Betty Reid Soskin
Ken Springer
ken1949bongo@gmail.com
