Robert "Tee-Ninny" and Mary Scales at their wedding in 1949. Photo submitted.

her house in an old cemetery that kids in her neighborhood used as a playground when a white man walked passed and spit on her. The man kept walking as her brothers ran inside to get their dad.

Robert Scales rushed outside, picked up his daughter and carried her inside. He sat Madelyn down and began wiping her face. His was keen with frustration as she kept asking why he didn’t go after that man. Scales didn’t answer his daughter until many years later.

“He told me that he had to make a choice between going after that man that day or living to see me grow up. I said, ‘Dad, I don’t know how you did that,’ and he said, ‘Because I loved you, and I wanted you to grow up with me in your life,” said Madelyn.

In the early 60s, Murfreesboro was still segregated. There were white schools and black schools, white water fountains and black water fountains.

It was a time when the nation was struggling to change, and most of Murfreesboro wanted that transition to be smooth.

No one more than Robert Scales. He became the first black man elected to the city council and one of the first elected to any office in the South since Reconstruction.

Robert Scales was born in Murfreesboro in 1927. The third of five children born to Henry Preston and Willie Burkeen Scales, Robert came to life, ironically, in the family’s funeral home, Scales and Sons. The funeral home has now been in the Scales family for four generations and was founded by Preston Scales in 1916.

Of course, many people may not know Robert by that name.

He was often referred to as “Tee-ninny,” an unusual nickname given to him by his older sister when she tried to introduce her new, tiny brother. Unwittingly, with her mispronunciation, she gave her sibling a name that stuck.

After Henry died of a heart attack, Robert dropped out of college and took over the day to day running of the mortuary.

He married his sister’s college friend, Mary Caruthers, and built their house beside the funeral home as a wedding present. This house sits in between the funeral home and Robert’s childhood home.

It’s where Mary still lives today, years after Robert’s death and her own retirement from the city council. But we’re getting ahead of the story.

Robert’s decision to run for city council came as a natural progression. Like his father and grandfather before him, he was a well-liked and respected businessman and leader in his community. He was known to help anyone, regardless of race.

He chose to run for a seat on the city council in 1964 and began his decidedly non-violent campaign. His platform was “Come, let’s reason together.”

“It was a trying time. I was scared but he wasn’t. I said, ‘Scales, it’s not worth it.’ He said, ‘This is my time,’ ” his widow Mary said.

During the campaigning season, the candidate and his

family’s resolve was put to the test repeatedly.

There were people who did not want to see a black man in office. His family and life were threatened and he was offered a bribe to drop out. His wife recalls two cross burnings in their front yard.

Robert stayed in the race.

“He would always hug us and say we’re OK. How one person could get his hands around all six of us ...” Madelyn marveled.

Her dad’s perseverance was rewarded when he led the ticket. The first black man to run and he was in the top four, complete with his

picture in the local paper. He was sworn into office and began his fight for equality that would span his 24-year career.

Robert’s main concern was equality in everything, from jobs to education. He worked with the school superintendent to integrate teachers and union workers.

“We may have all come over on a ship, but we’ re all in he same boat now,” Robert said in an interview with The Daily News Journal.

During Robert’s first term, he stressed nonviolence as integration came to fruition.

Murfreesboro needed to learn from other cities’ problems with integrating. If the people worked together the transition to desegregation would go smoothly, he reasoned. Even when Robert and his family were being mistreated because of their skin color, he never wavered.

At a convention for councilmen in New Orleans, Robert and his wife were seated separately from the rest of the council members at a restaurant. As the others were leaving they passed their table, exclaiming how delicious the food was. The Scales’ didn’t know, because they hadn’t even been served water.

“Through all of (this) daddy taught us to love everybody. No matter how we are treated because we don’t have to account for what people do to us, we have to account for what we do to other people,” Madelyn said.

After campaigning with the theme of reasoning instead of violence, Robert moved on to education. He coined the slogan “Learn Baby, Learn,” to counter the riot chant of “Burn Baby, Burn” that was often heard in1965. Robert knew that getting an education was the key to equality, not rioting.

Mary agreed, and after having their six children she went back to school to earn her teaching certificate. She rode the bus to Tennessee State in Nashville for her entire first quarter before Robert bought her a car.

“I hated that (car) because my study time was going on the bus and going back,” Mary said.

After getting her degree, she spent the first few years teaching at a segregated school before integration. The school superintendent at the time enforced the laws and said anyone who had a problem with their new assignments could find a new job. Mary was reassigned to Bellwood Elementary.

African American children in Murfreesboro were offered the choice of staying at a segregated black school or going to a new integrated one. The Scales’ chose to send their kids to an integrated school. Madelyn was the only black girl in her eighth-grade class. Her mother was one of the few black teachers.

“I was so excited because it was the first year in my life I had a new textbook,” Madelyn said.

At her old school, each student had to check their books to make sure all of the pages were there.

Robert fought for equality until he was forced to retire due to health concerns in 1988.

During one particularly active time, involving a vigorous series of debates and private discussions on whether the city should recognize Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the councilman returned home and suffered a heart attack.

Unlike his father, who died from a heart attack, Robert survived but decided to leave politics.

He convinced Mary to finish his term and to run for his seat in the next election. She was the second black person to hold a city council position.

The fourth would be Robert’s daughter, Madelyn Scales Harris, who ran for a seat on the city council in 2009, something she never imagined doing. After seeing what her parents went through, she did not want any part of the political world.

“Every Thursday when I walk into that council room I remember my parents’ legacy: Put God first and always do the right thing. That’s one of the greatest lessons I learned from my daddy,” said Madelyn, who smiled at the irony of holding the same council seat where her father served for more than two decades.

“I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t paved the way,” Madelyn said.