Lester in Vietnam
September 1965
In Remembrance of My Older Brother
Lester James Anderson
U.S. Marine Corps Vietnam Veteran
Police Officer, Austin, Texas
May 1947 to April 2010
My older brother Lester James was born at home in Chicago on May 17, 1947. He was the first son and second child of Esther and Clayton James. Lester was baptized at St. Malachy's Catholic Church in Chicago on December 11, 1949. (Esther was raised in the Baptist church but she married Clayton who was a Catholic.) During those years, except for attending kindergarten in the Chicago public school system and during a few brief interruptions in elementary and high school, their children attended Catholic schools and churches.
Lester made a decision at the age of 17 to misrepresent his age (which was possible at that time) and join the United States Marines. His enrollment date was June 19, 1964. HIs basic training occurred at Camp Pendleton, California.
While in Vietnam, he told his mother that he had been exposed to Agent Orange, a chemical defoliant used in the war.
Lester in Vietnam
September 1965
Lester's term of service was three years in the Marine Corps. During his time in the Marines he was formally acknowledged as a sharpshooter and he was awarded three medals. He was honorably discharged and transferred to the Marine Corps Reserve on June 27, 1967.
Blatant and cruel, intense racism would enter Lester's life more than once, before and especially after he returned home from Vietnam. One night in March 1971, an extraordinary confrontation occurred in a local bar in Chicago where Lester had gone to meet a friend. Drunken, off-duty white Chicago cops attacked Lester and his friend, resulting in the death of the friend, the injury of a cop and the arrest, beating and jailing of Lester, who was accused of attempted murder of a Chicago cop.
The police engaged in a massive cover-up and were intent on placing full blame on Lester. They kicked him in the groin in an attempt to force him to sign a full confession, but he wouldn't sign. After he had been in custody for a night and most of a day, they finally allowed him to place a phone call.
His mother was able to get the help of a priest and they went to the station. Her enormous efforts included raising money from friends and family members and posting bond as well as hiring a lawyer.
However, the ordeal did not end soon at all. Before and even after charges were dropped, revengeful Chicago police repeatedly circled the apartment building where Lester, his mother Esther and Marc lived, looking for Lester (I was a teenager and I remember this all vividly).
In the end, Lester had to be hidden on the floor of a relative's car and driven out of Chicago entirely in order to avoid being killed by the police.
This indescribably negative encounter left Lester bitter. Most young men would have stayed forever in a state of justified hatred of cops, something Lester felt as well.
Eventually, Lester married Sandra (I was a young photographer and I photographed their wedding).
He also made a truly astonishing decision. Lester decided to become a police officer himself. He took the necessary exams, filed the necessary applications and trained to become a police officer in the city of Rockford, Illinois, where he had relocated with his wife Sandra who was pregnant with their daughter Nicole.
Lester officially became a police officer in March of 1973. (On the day of his swearing-in ceremony, once again I took photos of the event.) It was an amazing conclusion to his remarkable life journey up to that point and it was a new beginning.
In the 1980s, Lester relocated to Austin Texas, where he continued as a police officer.
Lester passed away in April 2010 in his home in Elgin, Texas, a suburb of Austin. His ashes are held in a columbarium in Texas State Veterans Cemetery, Killeen, Texas.
There is a great deal more to his story, which is told on a website I created, entitled "Lester James Anderson: The Life of My Brother" by Marc P. Anderson.
On Memorial Day, I remember my brother, Lester, whose incredible and at times incredibly difficult life should never be forgotten.
Marc