We should learn to separate the historical facts from the fiction

WHILE attending university in Texas in 1964 I was about to play golf one day when somebody asked if he could join me. I was going to agree, until I saw the man was black.

I had never seen a black person play with a white person there before, and I said to myself that I had not come to Texas to change things.

But if I refused, it would mean that I had become racist, so I welcomed him. He introduced himself as Zack Johnson.