Turning back to LeVar Burton, we shifted from his mother's
roots to his father's, where we confronted a blank slate. LeVar's father essentially disappeared when LeVar was 11 years old, and the two men have had very
limited contact ever since. As a result, LeVar knows almost nothing about the Burton side of his family tree. So we set out to change that, and we discovered that father and son actually have a great deal in common. The story begins in
Cherry Valley, Arkansas, where LeVar's father was born in 1934. His parents, LeVar's grandparents, were Versie Bowdry and Aaron Burton, and they seem to have had
a tumultuous relationship. In fact, census records
show that, by 1940, Aaron was married to another woman. Wow. So you'd never heard
anything at all about this? - No, no, no, no.
- You didn't even know these people existed?
- No, no. I think the name Aaron
Burton, I've heard before, but I had no real concept of
where he was in the lineage. Well, we assume that your
grandparents divorced, but we didn't find a record of that, so we don't know.
- Sure, yeah. But your father was five years old when that census was taken.
- Yeah. - There you go.
- Wow. Your parents divorced when you were 11. What's it like to see that happen with your father's parents? The cycles do repeat
themselves, don't they? - Cycles do repeat, yeah.
- Wow. This was not the only cycle that repeated down through the branches
of the Burton family tree. Indeed, the 1940 census for Arkansas shows that LeVar and
his father's ancestors share something truly profound. "Aaron C. Burton, head of
household, Negro, age 27, born in Arkansas, occupation:
school superintendent, grammar school, salary $350.
- Yep. Evelyn Burton, wife, Negro, age 28. Pearl B. Burton, father, Negro, aged 60, birthplace: Arkansas, occupation: school
superintendent, junior high." So you just meant your great-grandfather. - Pearl.
- Yeah! - Pearl B. Burton.
- B. Burton. And he and your grandfather
worked in education! Both school superintendents! Both, father and son
school superintendents. One for grammar school, and the other for junior high school. - How's that make you feel?
- It fill me with great pride that I have inherited
this mantle of educator. - Yeah.
- Really honestly. You come from educators on both sides. That's very cool. I'm very proud of that. You just opened the
door and the whole room was on the other side
of the wall, you know? No kidding, my reality has shifted. Yeah, 'cause you thought
all of these attributes you got from your mom.
- From my mom. Yeah. That's deep. Records show that LeVar's
great-grandfather, Pearl, spent almost his entire adult life working in schools. He was even the principal and co-founder of a public school for
African American children in Osceola, Arkansas, an institution that he helped open at a time when roughly 20% of his state's Black
population was illiterate. - I had no idea.
- No. I'm just, phew. You inherited from this
invisible presence in your life, a guy who disappears when you're 11, but all of that educational heritage came with him.
- Came with him. - Came with him.
- Yeah. - He left, but it didn't.
- It didn't. - Isn't that extraordinary?
- I'm ecstatic. I can't even explain how it
feels to get this information. It's like there have been pieces of me that have been missing. They've always been out there somewhere. But, you know, Black people,
we don't share family stories. - No.
- We're really hesitant. I couldn't pry information
out of my mother. She was always so
insistent that we not know about the trials and tribulations
that she went through. Of course, she was trying to protect you. She was trying to protect
us, yes, of course. But it leaves us in the
dark about who we are. - Yeah, it does.
- This information is stuff that we need in order to feel whole. It does, you do need it. Whew, this is gonna
reverberate for a while. - Hey, of course, forever.
- It's so powerful.
