Bishop Gregory G. M. Ingram - Chair, Commission on Publications
The Reverend Dr. Johnny Barbour, Jr., Publisher
The Reverend Dr. Calvin H. Sydnor III, Editor
1. SPECIAL BLACK HISTORY EDITION OF THE CHRISTIAN RECORDER:
This issue of The Christian Recorder is in honor of Black History Month. Mrs. Jeanette Johns has collected and compiled vignettes about the experiences of people who lived in South during segregation when Jim Crow laws were enforced. Also included are several vignettes from people who lived in the North and attended integrated schools.
Mrs. Johns is a noted writer and author of “The Upward Journey; a Centenarian’s Chronicle,” which tells about the life and ministry of Bishop Decatur Ward Nichols, revered clergyman who lived to be the oldest living bishop in Methodism. Bishop Nichols died in 2004 at the age of 104.
The vignettes shared in this issue by Mrs. Johns are being prepared for a book that will chronicle the experiences of black and white Americans who grew up in the segregated South. The book will also share the experiences of those who achieved success in spite of the oppressive climate in which they lived.
Mrs. Johns is a member of Bethel AME Church in Huntington, NY, where her late husband, the Reverend Clarence B. Johns, Jr. served as pastor for 12 years.
She welcomes additional vignettes and may be reached at jjohns@suffolk.lib.ny.us.
This Special Black History issue also includes an article from the American Cancer Society that deals with Colorectal Cancer commonly referred to as colon cancer. The black community has a higher incidence of colon cancer than the general population probably due to a lack of physical examinations. The men and women in the black community must be encouraged to schedule regular physical examinations. That message must be preached from our pulpits again and again.
2. THE POSITIVE SIDE OF GROWING UP IN A SEGREGATED SOCIETY:
Jeanette T. Johns, Bethel A.M.E. Church, Huntington, New York
An article dedicated to, and written in appreciation of, the lives of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Mrs. Rosa Parks, and Mrs. Coretta Scott King – whose deaths are all still fresh in our memories.
The week following the death of Mrs. Rosa Parks on October 28, 2005 was filled with media tributes to this unassuming woman whose life was lived in such an extremely effective manner. Each event triggered some interesting and sustained conversations among my friends and relatives as our thoughts turned back to the early days of our lives. As our fingers flew over our keyboards, we were eager to share, via e-mail, our thoughts and our own versions of what her life and famous actions have meant to us as adults in this America of ours. The messages re-lived our days growing up in a segregated society and as we wrote on and on, literally for days, some of the messages began to turn away from the much-publicized inhumane aspects of those years to some of the more positive situations that we remembered. It occurred to me that it is a rare thing to hear someone speak of segregation as being “good”. I thought some of those reminiscences were informative enough to pass on to young and old alike.
How could segregation possibly be “good”? I invite you to “eavesdrop” on some of our e-mail conversations:
Here is one from “Marie” who grew up in North Carolina:
“As an adult I realize what an advantage that was for us little Negro children and I am also grateful for the advantage of Black teachers (Black because that's what society dictated for us at that time) who loved their jobs, who were totally respected in our communities, who visited our homes and talked freely with our parents, who provided extra materials for us out of their slim pocketbooks, and who did their utmost to instill in us the importance of a proper work ethic, how to dress properly for various occasions, the love of reading and learning, confidence in ourselves that we could be our very best (and we knew that they expected us to always BE our best), and loved and nurtured us on a daily basis. I really mean this. If the truth "be" known, integration has not served us all that well. But that is another story. Just know that I am grateful for my education in an all-Black school, with all-Black faculty. It would certainly be considered "unique" today and believe me -- I don't often say anything about this. In fact, I don't think I have EVER said this before to more than a handful of people. Who could possibly understand my being grateful to have received an education in a segregated environment? But I know what I know, and I know that I know it.
“It was my first grade teacher who came to our house during Christmas vacation. I had been to Pre-Primary (equivalent to today's Kindergarten) for two weeks when the teacher decided that since I could already read and write when I entered, I could not stay there any longer. She sent me to First Grade, down the hall, and when Daddy came to pick me up that day, he had trouble locating me. I stayed in First Grade until Christmas. When Miss Bessie B. Emanuel came to see my parents during the holidays, we sat at the dining room table and she explained that I was driving her into "bankruptcy" because I had read every book and completed every workbook she had for her first graders and she was now buying extra materials for me out of her pocket. She asked their permission to send me to Second Grade after Christmas. They agreed and there I stayed until the end of the year because that second-grade MATH caught up with me. :-) I am sure other teachers did the same sort of thing in the interest of their students. I even know some who are currently teaching on Long Island in the poorer, Black school districts and they freely spend money out of their own pockets to buy necessary materials for their students. You wouldn’t think they’d have to do that these days in the North, would you?”
This one is from “Oneida”, who grew up in Florida:
“The home, church and the school encouraged you to be the best you could be. There were spelling bees, oratorical contests, debates, plays, writing and reciting poetry etc. Those were some of the things in which Black children participated. It was a pleasure to be able to mingle with your teachers at your church. We all went to the same Black church.
Your teacher wanted to prove that you could do as well as anyone, even under difficult circumstances; therefore, she pushed hard for you to do well.
“The parents were seemingly more involved in their children's education. They taught their children to be fair, honest and helpful to their neighbors. There were classes taught about Africans coming to America, how many perished during the trip and how they fared once they got here. Emphasis was given to Black inventions.
“Children had the opportunity to see that they could function in many roles. The visible people in the schools were Black and you always had some outstanding Black role models from nearby coming into school to talk to the children and encourage them. They saw that their teachers, preachers, lawyers, doctors were all Black, living in the same community, and if they worked equally as hard they could achieve their dream..
“Black History Month was a big thing. The parents were invited to see what the children learned this year about their heritage. Various foods were served and all would have a good time.”
And, another, from “Celia”, who grew up in Alabama:
“We had to memorize a lot. I do not think they do that much any more, not as we did. Years ago I went to my child’s Open School Night and there was one teacher (white, of course – most of the teachers in this area of Long Island are white) who really believed in memorization. He said that the things we memorize in our youth are the ones we remember forever. And he proved it by asking us to recite something we had memorized in elementary school. Nearly everyone could do it, even if it was just a nursery rhyme, but we knew that we probably could not memorize a passage as easily now that we were adults. By now, our minds were cluttered with wondering how we would put food on the table or pay the next mortgage installment. I know that I learned all three verses of "Lift Every Voice and Sing" in elementary school. These days, I look around and I'm usually the only one in a room who can sing all three verses without looking at the paper.”
This is from “Charlye”, a childhood friend of DR. MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR., who grew up in Atlanta, GA:
I consider myself somewhat fortunate to have grown up in the segregated South. I feel fortunate because of the deep-seated rules and principles that I have “within”!
I feel especially fortunate to have grown up with Martin Luther King, Jr. (we called him “M. L.”) as a member of Ebenezer Baptist Church in Atlanta, GA. We sang in the Youth Choir and participated in BYPU (Baptist Young People’s Union). This was a training ground for young people in the church. We were taught to memorize and to recite a variety of material, especially poetry by Black poets and other meaningful poetry, Biblical material, and historical material. We participated and competed with other church teams in debating and oratorical contests. “M. L.” usually came in with the top winners.
In our all-Black, segregated schools were some dedicated teachers who would not allow us to settle for less. While we were taught American history, we were also taught our history and our part and place in American history. While we may have gone to the back of the bus or through the back door, it was not a mindset. We were taught pride and self-worth and it was emphasized, that while we may be denied some things we were “capable and worthy” of them. Our academic education was supplemented and nurtured by our church and family home training.
Again, I feel fortunate to have grown up with Martin Luther King, Jr. not only at church but also in his home. Although our last names are the same, we are not related. My maiden name was Williams. His mother and my mother were friends. My mother died when we were teens so I was blessed, as a mother-less young girl, to have his mother become like a second mother to me. His sister, Christine, and I were and still are good friends. Therefore, I spent many days in the King household and I took piano lessons from Mrs. King. I feel fortunate because of the things I learned from “Daddy King” around the house and at the dinner table. We were always allowed to state our opinions and to debate issues (with the proper respect, mind you). Even in childhood and teens, “M. L.” was a highly opinionated and vocal fellow. He would argue his point until he got it across or ran out of time. We had memorable times together.
His mother, Mrs. Alberta King, was visiting me here on Long Island when President John F. Kennedy was killed. I was driving down Rt. 110 with her in the passenger seat when the announcement came on the car radio. She screamed and said, “Oh, if they got the President, they can get M. L.!” She, naturally, was very upset and fearful for her son. She called his wife, Coretta, and learned that he was okay. Still, she cut her visit short in order to return home to be with the family.
Once, I was asked during an interview, if I thought that we lost anything with integration. I think that we lost some things inadvertently and, perhaps, of necessity. As I go to visit Atlanta every year, I still miss all of the Black businesses on historic Auburn Avenue. It was lined with flourishing Black businesses. We even had a chain of Black-owned drug stores (Yate and Milton) around town, in addition to Black-owned banks and theatres. Now that we can go anywhere downtown (through the front door!), I guess there is no real need. We still own many things in Atlanta; it’s just those of us who have childhood memories who experience a sense of loss.
Unfortunately, I feel that we have lost the unity of the Black Family; that unity that we HAD to have then; the family that stood for no nonsense and taught us pride in our appearance, pride in all of our undertakings, and the necessary courage to face the problems of life.
From “Nora”, who grew up in Mobile, Alabama:
“I grew up in an all Negro/Black American neighborhood which at that time was one of the nicest places to live for Blacks in Mobile, Alabama. It was named "Elizabeth Garden" where some of my neighbors were doctors, teachers, a dean of the College (which was a Branch of Alabama State College), principal of the local junior high school, pharmacist (owned family business), funeral directors (owned their business), and beauticians (had their own shops). One neighbor even owned her own Hot Dog & Restaurant Stand and people would come from far away just to eat Babe's hot dogs! Also, there were my two uncles who gave a shot at the Restaurant Business (located in a different area).
“In my neighborhood we had one neighbor who made History; not just Black History but all time History in Baseball; none other than Mr. Henry "Hank" Aaron. He played with the Milwaukee Braves at that time and lived near my home at 2425 and his address was 2420 Bunche Road. It seemed that my brother always knew when Mr. Hank Aaron was home. He would always go and knock on his door the moment he thought Mr. Aaron was home on a break. Not only that but my brother would recruit the boys from the neighborhood and he would lead them to a question and answer session with Mr. Aaron. As I recall my brother had the nerve to charge them a fee just to sit in the sessions. In those days of my past, we had the opportunity to go to The Carver Stadium to see Hank Aaron hit the balls out of the park during batting practice. It was history in the making but we did not know to what extent history was being made. My people also had the pleasure of seeing another great baseball player in the early part of his career, Mr. Cleon Jones. Yes, growing up in my neighbor was good, and some bad times, but mostly good!
“I remember my father who was a hard working man (Mechanical Engineer, worked for Alabama Dry Dock Shipping Company), who made sure his neighbors, friends and relatives got to vote during election time by riding them to the polls to vote. He was often threatened with losing his job and always fought to keep his job of 40+ years. My father who was the Shop Steward always tried to get more Blacks hired on his job and to make sure they were treated fairly.
Here is one more event in my life. During my high school days, we had visits from well-known people such as Miss Althea Gibson, the great Black tennis star. Her cousin was my physical education teacher and she was related to Mr. Jerry Butler, known for his musical success, who visited when in Mobile. Mr. Henry Aaron would check up on his sister, my classmate and good friend, Alfreda Aaron.
In my time, my high school - Central High School - was responsible for the education of Vivian Malone. Her younger sister was my classmate. In history, Vivian Malone was one of the first Blacks to integrate Alabama University. Yes, living in the South had some trying times - there were days coming from High School approximately three miles from my home with no school buses. At times, it was necessary to ride the public bus and experience the white bus drivers passing up my fellow schoolmates and me from riding the bus because we would not sit in back of the bus. In those days, I remember going to a movie theater in Downtown Mobile. At the "Single Theater" Negroes had to sit up in the bleachers and enter and exit from the back. I remember every school I attended was segregated and all the teachers were well educated with their Masters Degrees or working on them while teaching in high school. From early school years to the finishing of high school I remember my teachers of Social Studies or History making sure we knew how rich and valuable our Black history is in America. Last, but not least, the Street I lived on was named after a famous Black American, Senator Ralph Bunche.
From “Bill” who grew up in Maryland:
I actually went to school in the kind of one-room schoolhouse that you hear so much about. Our teacher was one of those nice Black ladies who really loved her job and cared about her students. She brought food from home to cook for us so that we would have a nourishing hot lunch. She cooked it on a wood stove that sat in the middle of the floor, basically to give us heat in the winter. She could cook up a stew that would satisfy our little stomachs for hours. She stressed to us that we must go to college somewhere, anywhere we could get in. She went to Hampton Institute and filled our heads and hearts with stories of her days there as a student. She is the reason that I went to Hampton with my one small suitcase and a few dollars in my pocket. That was the best decision I ever made.
This is from “Elizabeth”, who grew up in Virginia:
“I used to consider myself pretty knowledgeable about Black History since I was fortunate enough to attend a segregated school (yes, I really said that!) and "Negro History" was something we learned about all the time. I don't believe it was listed in the curriculum anywhere; we just learned it. I think it must have been that our teachers knew that we needed to know and they were just determined to do what they knew was best for us.
“In elementary school we knew lots and lots of things about Black folks. Our Black teachers made sure of that. They knew that we needed to know that there were worthwhile Black people who had made powerful contributions to our world and they were determined that we would learn about them. So, we read books the teachers provided for us and did reports, and they told us about people who were not readily found in books and we were tested on their lectures. We memorized poetry by Paul Laurence Dunbar. He wrote in that strange-sounding dialect and we had so much fun acting out the scenes and speaking in that dialect. You could hardly forget that when you became an adult. Pleasant memories, but also we were adding to our knowledge of Black people’s contributions. We were absorbing our own culture and preparing to pass it on to our children. Our southern Black teachers in segregated schools did that for us! They were so dedicated and now, as adults, we have learned to appreciate them in a different way.”
This one is from “Dina” who grew up in Georgia.
“We had Devotions every morning in school, for about 10-15 minutes and HAD to know a Bible Verse to recite. The poor kids today, they will never know that joy. It was part of my homework: “Oh, my goodness, I don’t have a new Bible verse for tomorrow morning.” And I’d get my little Bible out and get busy. It had to be memorized by morning.
“And Health Inspection. Ten points EVERY day! One kid in each row was selected each day to do the inspection for that row. Show the backs of your hands (fingernails); show the inside of your hands (clean?) show your teeth (clean?); show each ear (clean?), throw your head back (neck clean?); hair combed? Shoes cleaned? (no mud, no matter how far you’d walked to school or what you’d had to walk through to get there!); and do you have a handkerchief? How many is that? I don't remember any more, but that was EVERY day, after Devotions. After Bible Verse! After Pledge of Allegiance to the American Flag AND singing "The Star Spangled Banner" (not "America, the Beautiful" because it's "easier" -- Good Heavens, Folks! How disgusting! “America, the Beautiful” is a pretty song, but it is NOT the National Anthem of this country; “The Star Spangled Banner” is, and every American child needs to know it.). And nowadays they even argue about saying the pledge. Good Heavens! That’s nothing to argue about. We were taught to be patriotic, no matter what. This was our country and we were to have respect for the country AND the flag! Later, when we were older and things happened so that we could vote, we learned that things we did not feel were fair, needed to be changed by voting and by participation on community levels and more. But, never were we allowed to speak disrespectfully about our country, its leaders or desecrate our flag. And our Black teachers taught us this, along with our parents! There were rules to follow and we followed them.”
And, this one is full of historical information, from “Ruby”, who grew up in Hampton, Virginia:
“Yes, there were good times back then, but they came with no crystal stair (as our great Black poet, Langston Hughes, wrote). There were hard climbs and bumps and splinters, but our parents loved us, fed us, made us behave and instilled good manners and appreciation for the little that we had. We were fortunate that Daddy had a garden, but we were so poor that when the depression hit we were hardly aware of it. However, my grandfather read news editorials and when he visited us he talked a lot about that and other politics.
“The outstanding thing in my childhood had to be my experience with education and we were always aware that the situation was unique. Our school was a product of the actions taken years before, back during the Civil War when the Union Brigadier General Benjamin F. Butler who had taken over the Confederate stronghold of Fort Monroe near Hampton, VA declared that slaves who arrived there would become Contraband of War. They were declared free and could not be returned to their masters. Many slaves fled here and lived at the Grand Contraband Camp. It was also known as Freedom Fortress.
“When Confederate General Magruder realized that Butler was going to make Hampton a haven for former slaves, he ordered that the town should be burned. Well, that happened, but after the city was destroyed, the former slaves moved there anyway and formed a strong community. They had learned many skills and General Butler knew they had potential. There was no public school for children of contraband, so Negro volunteers taught children, seated on the ground under a huge oak tree, the now-famous Emancipation Oak that has been declared a National Historical Landmark on the campus of Hampton University. It was formerly known as the Butler Oak. Later, General Samuel Chapman Armstrong came, who built the first academic building on the campus and solicited teachers from “Up North” who belonged to the American Missionary Society to come and establish a faculty and teach until there were enough of our own people to take the reins. This school was followed by the Whittier School, which was attended by my mother, my brother and me. My sister, editor of this article, was too young to go to Whittier, but she attended Phenix School, which took its place, and graduated as Valedictorian. All these schools were “parented” by Hampton Institute (University) and served to train other teachers.
“There you have the background of Whittier, the elementary school I liked so much. All of our homeroom teachers were Negroes – that’s what we were called by then - and we really had to fight to get the media to use a capital “N” for this designation. However, there were other teachers who came from the campus of Hampton Institute to give instruction in physical education, penmanship, music and art. Hot lunch was available for a few cents. Starting in 5th grade manual arts training (later known as Industrial Arts) was given to the boys while the girls had sewing and cooking (later known as Home Economics). We had a full-time janitor who cleaned the three-story building, took care of the furnace, and took care of emergencies. We also had a school nurse and the PTA saw to it that every child visited the dentist once a year. The nurse was my Cousin Louise and she walked groups of children across the Hampton Bridge to a Negro dentist in town. She waited until everyone had been treated, and then brought them back to school. No lunch those days.
“The principal was a white lady who conducted daily devotionals for the entire student body in the “Big Hall”. She signed everyone’s report card, distributed library books every two weeks, gave standardized tests and taught a literature class to eighth graders. She kept all the records, too, since she was the secretary. I didn’t know she had such a sense of humor until I was in her class and heard her recite a poem, “The Bells” in which she exhibited all kinds of emotions and humor. Whatta Lady!
“We realized that all the teachers cared about us and we felt compelled to behave in a way to make them and our parents, proud.”
From “Sandra”, who grew up in Alabama:
“As I reflect back on my school days in the South, it brings back cherished memories. My first school was located in Colony, Alabama. It had five rooms, seven teachers and a principal. At that time, Colony, the only black community in Cullman County, probably had a population of 200. Most of the teachers taught more than one grade in the same classroom. However, they all possessed a love for teaching and it showed in their work. They made sure we gained as much knowledge as possible with the limited resources that were provided to the school.
“Our school didn’t have a lot to offer, but what we had we enjoyed. We had no sports or band in which to participate. The playground consisted of a merry-go-round and three seesaws. One of the biggest highlights of our school year was the May Day festivities. May Day was held on May 1 to celebrate the coming of summer. This was an all day event playing games, racing, and wrapping the May pole with ribbons.
“In 1965, things began to change. The high school students were ordered to attend an all-white school about 12 miles away. In 1967, parents were given the choice to send their children in the lower grades to this school. Many saw this as an opportunity for their kids to excel in their education, despite the many threats. There were others who feared for their children’s safety and chose not to let their children attend the school. I remember begging my grandmother to let my sister and I attend the school, but she was afraid for us to be around those “white folks." My uncle, who was the principal at our school, had no luck convincing her to change her mind. In 1968, our little school finally closed it doors to all the grades except Head Start. We had no choice but to attend the white school.
“Surprisingly, the transition for us went better than expected and proved to be a positive move. Many anticipated trouble because of the known members of the Ku Klux Klan (KKK) living in the nearby area. There were the occasional bomb threats at the school and on the buses, but no major incidents. Every now and then, a black and a white student would get into a fight that resulted in name-calling, the same as it is today. Some whites, out of ignorance, did not want to sit beside us or even brush against us for fear of our color rubbing off on them. We rode the same buses as the whites but chose to sit in the back. Later on, we started sitting together and some of us eventually became friends.
“We gladly welcomed and appreciated our new road to a better education and the opportunity to participate in many extra curricular activities. Gone were the days of sharing classrooms, textbooks, carrying coal in to keep the rooms warm and using outside bathroom facilities.
“Integration allowed us to become better educated and more competitive in society. Many of us, upon graduating, went on to college to further our education. However, we must never forget our teachers and our little old school where the foundations of our education begin. Ms. Earlene Johnson, who was my first and second grade teacher, is still active in the community and continues to teach children in Sunday School. The school was torn down and replaced with a community center.
“We’ve come a long way from the days of segregation but still continue to strive for equality.”
And, here is a portion of what I wrote during those days following the death of Mrs. Rosa Parks. As you can tell, my mind was whirling and my fingers were trying to type just as fast. So much to remember, so much to record, so much to share …
From Jeanette T. Johns who grew up in Hampton, Virginia.
“Well, when I was in Phenix Elementary School we had all Black teachers, of course, but we also had a few lovely white people who played important roles in our young lives. I don’t remember that it made a difference to us that they were white, except in the way they looked. School was one big, happy, friendly place and they were all a part of it. Miss Alice G. Bryant, was ... what ... Assistant Principal? Principal? Something important, I know, because she signed my report cards. She was especially nice and was in the classrooms from time to time. Pale-looking lady, blondish hair. And I know there was Miss Bernice O'Brien, white, Irish, associated with Hampton Institute (University), but also she was at Phenix a lot. Did she supervise our Hampton student teachers, maybe? But all of the other people around us were Black – the cafeteria ladies, the janitors, the librarian, the office personnel, etc. For us, it was a novelty to see white people in our school. And all of my classroom teachers were Black, sweet, and kind. Maybe that doesn’t exactly apply to Mrs. Lacey Truehart Mercy (4th grade teacher). She whacked the insides of the hands of the two "bad kids" in our class with a leather strap. They were both larger and taller than the rest of us – a boy and a girl. "Come up here!” she’d say. “Hold them out! Both hands!" and she would reach inside the middle drawer of her desk and we would all take a deep breath and feel oh, so sorry for the victim(s). But, they never poisoned her or hit her or shot her or anything like might be done in today's classrooms. They didn’t even talk bad about her. They just returned to their seats when it was all over, pouted and sulked and sometimes cried a few ugly tears. That was enough to keep ALL the rest of us in line. We almost cried FOR them. Poor, bad kids. And, believe me, that lady kept order in her classroom. No problem! She also gave occasional hugs IF we deserved them. Nevertheless, she is one of the teachers I remember best because of the many interesting things that occurred in her classroom. She was an excellent and very resourceful teacher who made our school lives interesting every day. There was so much to learn and so much to do, so much to experience in Mrs. Mercy’s 4th grade class.
“Fourth grade was where we had art lessons from Dr. Viktor Lowenfeld, a Jewish artist who had fled from Austria during WW II and ended up at Hampton Institute, a college for Black people; his place of refuge; the place that welcomed him and gave him security and the opportunity to earn a living. Actually, I guess the war was on at that time. Was it? It's too early in the day for me to be sure. His exciting background was explained to us at the time of his first visit to our classroom. He was described as a "refugee" because he was definitely running from harm and seeking safety. And we were told that he would come to us every Wednesday. He was an excellent, famous artist and well-known in his field. Check him out. He is mentioned in lots of books about Hampton. I have them sitting on a shelf over there. And there are numerous listings on the Internet.
“Each of us had a brand new box of 8 Crayolas, with nice sharp points, actual drawing paper (the light beige, rough-textured kind) every week. Paper, not new Crayolas every week. J These items lived in a closet in the classroom. To have such a grand supply of them was huge in itself at that time, wasn't it? Remember, segregated school, li'l colored students. I know schools right now that don't have that quantity of supplies. And you want to tell me about school integration. Okay. Tell me. And it hurt my heart so when I'd finally break a crayon point. But I knew that eventually a time would come when I'd be "eligible" for another box. Dr. Lowenfeld would tell a story, describing a scene for us and when he had finished, he would say in his interesting Austrian accent, "Now, “ve” draw." And me? I'd assume a blank stare and think, "Now, ve draw WHAT???" An artist, I was NOT! I could not translate his scenes to paper worth a toot. I remember one that was about a girl and a house and some snow and lots of other stuff. It seemed to me it would take about six scenes and three sheets of paper to do justice to all that. “Now, ve draw!” But, there was that ONE sheet of paper in front of eight sharp, good-smelling Crayolas and me. What on earth was I to do with them? Never got the answer, but I must have passed "Drawing" because here I am.
“But how cool is that for a little colored girl in fourth grade in 193_ what? Must have been about 1937? 1939? Segregated society, segregated school and WE had Dr. Viktor Lowenfeld who had studied art in Europe and had become a world-renowned artist. Every now and then, I still see articles about this marvelous man. I saw one just recently about him and his lasting friendship with the eminent Black artist, John Biggers, whom he had as a student at Hampton. When Dr. Lowenfeld left Hampton after a few years and went to Pennsylvania State University, Biggers transferred and followed him there just so that he could continue studying with him. And, as children, my friends and I at our early age, had Dr. Lowenfeld because Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute, later Hampton Institute, later Hampton University had been started because the ex-slaves in the Tidewater area of Virginia needed a little attention, a little help, and a little education. We did not start that college for Negroes; white people did and it was necessitated because "they" would not let us in "their" schools. So, we got Dr. Lowenfeld and "they" didn't. And I still can't draw worth a toot, but I had the benefit of exposure to that impressive gentleman, an Austrian Jew - that in itself was "exposure" for us young colored children. This was an Austrian Jew who had taken some treacherous path to escape whatever terrible things would have happened to him had he stayed in Europe, in Nazi territory, because he was Jewish. And that was further exposure because did we know any Jews? I knew of one family because they owned a small grocery store nearby, but I did not really KNOW them, so this was my relationship with a Jewish person. A stranger, a foreigner that I actually had some dealings with and got to KNOW. ("Now ve draw.”) And, he had dramatically made his way to AMERICA and his explanations brought that war right home to us. We had been collecting aluminum foil and metal and enduring rationing. We had learned all the latest patriotic songs and had participated in "blackouts" and all those things that went on here on the home front, but never had we seen and listened to someone who was actually affected by THE WAR. That was something we heard about on the radio or when we were told something about it in school. This man had had to leave his home. We had never had to do that. I am talking "exposure" here! This was about a bunch of fourth-grade colored kids learning about a world that was far greater in scope that the little community that we knew and lived in.
“Hampton University is known these days as an HBCU (Historically Black Colleges and Universities). You know, our Black colleges are still thought of by some as inferior. People are not always ready to accept the fact that these colleges are the ones that will take our Black youngsters and treat them in such a way that they will thrive in the educational environment that they offer. The faculty will go out of their way to see that our youngsters are well prepared for the world they will eventually become a part of, and these teachers will see that their students actually graduate, whereas in other universities, our kids can sometimes become just another number, especially if they need some special help, and it’s sink or swim; and sometimes it seems that no one really cares. Still, the extensive opportunities are there these days and our kids can make their own choices. What we do is to continue to pray for them and wish them well with whatever choices they make.
“Anyway, at Hampton University when I needed an elective course I had Mr. Perisho (white) who was an expert with looms and weaving. He constructed his own huge looms and threaded them himself then, in an extremely large room, taught us to weave all kinds of things on these beautiful, unique pieces of equipment. I wove the most beautiful rug! I took that rug into my marriage and it was the first furnishing in my first home in Syracuse, NY. I had a few other white teachers during my four years there, but they were still the exception in my life as most of the faculty members were well-prepared Black people, excellent in their respective fields.
During my freshman year, I had to take "Introduction to Art". Everyone did; it was a required course. Hampton wanted us to be well-rounded, broadly-educated folks. Dr. Leo Katz (white) was the noted artist of his time; he had painted the LARGEST mural in the world in some building in NYC. I always wanted to find it, but never did. I could not even find the information on the Internet. But, the point is how many people realize what segregation really did FOR us. WE had Dr. Katz! "They" didn't. And, this man became one of my very favorite people in the world and my experiences with him still provide nourishing memories for me.
“I once worked for Dr. Katz (student job) and did his typing and office work. I remember typing a letter for him: "Dear Bela." That was Dr. Bela Schick, famous scientist! My fingers were trembling, my heart racing! Dr. Bela Schick! This was an extremely important scientist of my time because the Schick Test was an important medical procedure at that time. It had to do with Diphtheria and eventually got rid of that horrible disease. I'm sure I'd had the Schick Test as a child and now I was writing to Dr. Bela Schick on my typewriter (Hampton's typewriter)! Can you imagine what that is like? -- Oh, wait, I couldn't help it. -- I just checked the Internet for Bela Schick.
“Look: He did important work on "scarlet fever, tuberculosis, and the nutrition for infants ... but gained international renown for the Schick Test." (See, Schick Test!) "This test determined susceptibility to diphtheria, and eventually led to the eradication of the childhood disease that attacked 100,000 American children in 1927, leading to about 10,000 deaths." See? Dr. Bela Schick! And, he never even knew I had written that letter for Dr. Katz. Shame. But, hey, I know it! And after all these years, I remember it. Just a li'l ol' colored girl from Phoebus, VA. I was given the opportunity to type a letter to Dr. Bela Schick! I am so impressed with ME, right? No, not really. Just so very grateful to Phenix Elementary/High School and Hampton Institute/University. Black institutions. Black teachers. Segregation – a “gift” of the times.”
Even the Editor of our A.M.E. newspaper, “The Christian Recorder” got into this conversation. His message contrasts the “not-so-pleasant” with the “more pleasant” circumstances of his early education. This is from the Rev. Dr. Calvin H. Sydnor III:
“When I lived in Piney River, Virginia with my Uncle Tell and Aunt Virginia, I attended St. Mary's School, a one-room schoolhouse. We had grades 1-6 and one teacher, Miss Collier. We were not served lunch or any snacks. We played stickball for recess. We did not have an athletic field; we played in an area between the school and the church. Some of the older boys had to walk about 1/4 of mile to get water from a spring and we drank out of bucket and a dipper. In the winter and during the cold days of fall and spring one of the older boys would start a fire in the potbelly stove that heated the room.
“My Aunt Virginia would not allow me to take a lunch to school because the other kids did not take a lunch because they couldn't afford to do so. She also wouldn't allow me to wear shoes to school in the warm weather for the same reason. I went to school bare-footed and it seems that I always stumped my toes. I hated walking barefooted. I walked 3 miles to school and 3 miles back home. When Charlotte and I got married, she thought that I was exaggerating and so, when we visited Virginia, we clocked the route from home to the school and it was 3 miles! Our teacher, Miss Collier, kept order in the class and she could wield a "mean switch." I also remember that they taught us to sing "Dixie" and every now and then, I find myself singing "Dixie" even though I cannot stand the song for what it meant in history. We learned about Patrick Henry and Virginia history.
“The school bus with the white children used to pass us as we walked single file on the road. I believe that we held our head down so that we would not make eye contact with the white students. In the fall and in the spring, several students would drop out of school so they could help with the harvesting and planting of the crops. I get a sense of anger when I think about racism and how it impacted upon Black people. Most of the kids I went to school with did not finish high school and I do not know of any who finished college.
“The positive side was that I had a strong image of who I was and the racism I experienced impressed upon me the need to get an education. My aunt and uncle preached education until it almost made me sick, but it stuck. After 2 1/2 years, I moved back to Pennsylvania with my mother and I could appreciate school and being able to go to school in a warm building and not having to walk 3 miles to school. And, I didn't have to sing, "Dixie” anymore!”
And, that’s how we spent the week following the death of that giant of a little lady, Mrs. Rosa Parks. None of us intended to give the impression that we would want to return to the days of segregation. Not at all. We love the fact that we can go to any hotel or any fine restaurant or any public place and feel, most of the time, reasonably comfortable. We appreciate the strides that have been made toward full integration. And we certainly applaud the opportunities that the civil rights movement has provided for our children and future generations. But, we also recognize that we are products of a segregated society, which is what was available to us when we were growing up. We are aware that we were the fortunate recipients of the strong, loving guidance of our parents and other relatives and the dedication of innumerable competent Black people who were devoted to our generation and dedicated to preparing us for success in our adult lives. It is because of them that we have survived with good and worthwhile memories of those undeniably difficult days.
Just to round out this picture, I want to share one that has a slightly different flavor. This is from Cynthia J. Marve, my daughter, who grew up in Farmingdale, New York. It will let you know that even children raised in the integrated North can have some unexpectedly strange experiences.
“At the time that I attended elementary school there were something like 10-15 school buses for my particular school. Only one of those buses transported the Black kids and on that bus were also some white kids. This, just to give you an idea of how few Black kids attended this school. Oh, and don't forget the "walkers", of which there were many, all-white. I was always the only Black kid in my class until I got to 5th grade. Finally there was a Black kid named Wally. But, he was a boy, so I tried hard not to notice him. I really didn't like him, but everyone thought we were some sort of couple. Believe me; he paid a lot more attention to me, than I paid to him. Anyway, my story: The curriculum called for a stint with the Civil War. Now, there were about 28-30 kids in class. That was about average, I suppose, and you would think that since there were two Black kids in the class, that would not cause such a disruption, but whenever the discussion came to "slavery", it seemed that every pair of eyes was on me. People turned 180 degrees in their seats just to stare at Wally or me. Truthfully, I think Wally turned and stared at me, too. It was just so humiliating, although at the time I was not familiar with that word or its meaning. I just knew that I was the only one paying attention to the teacher since I was facing forward and everyone else had focused his or her attention on me. I had no deep message for anyone, just brown skin. I really hated that part of the Civil War and wished that we could just dispense with that particular history lesson, which seemed to go on and on and on...
“But, then came High School. I had a lot of friends and even though Wally was still in some of my classes, I really could ignore him. He wasn't in that many, his choices really weren’t my choices, and I was glad of that. (Don't know why, but since he met a grizzly end, I'll just say that I am really glad I wasn't there.) I had a lot of friends and most of them were White. Anyway, when I was a senior, I guess around May, I was asked to visit a social studies class. Someone had heard that I was going to an "all Black college called Hampton Institute" and wanted me to talk to the class about my choice. That was really interesting. I had the attention of the whole class, but I could enjoy that experience. It was different; people weren't staring at me as if I were some sort of anomaly, but just a senior that had gone out of her way to make a choice to experience a different culture than I was used to.”
To show a marked contrast, and to give the viewpoint of another generation, here is a story by Cynthia’s daughter, my granddaughter, Jeanne Marie Marve, who also grew up in Farmingdale, NY. This will give us an idea as to how things have progressed through three generations, and particularly from the time Cynthia was a student in the integrated North until the time her daughter was attending the same schools.
“I attended Farmingdale Public Schools during the late 1980s and graduated from high school in 1999. By this time, schools had been integrated for some time and, as children, we couldn’t even imagine a time when Black students went to one school and white students went to another. It just seemed natural that everyone went to the same school.
In Farmingdale the ratio of Black students to white students was a good bit higher than it was when my mother attended, though there were still relatively few Black kids in each class.
“In Elementary school, it didn’t seem to matter what race you were. We sat next to each other in class, ate lunch together, and played together on the playground without any separation of the races. No one seemed to notice who was white and who was Black. However, looking back, I can pinpoint exactly where that began to change. In seventh grade, the four Elementary schools from the district merged into one Middle school. At this time, the students seemed to experience “self-imposed segregation”. We were all in the same classes but at lunch, for the most part Black students sat with Black students and white students sat with white students. Black students did one activity during recess and white students did another. It seemed that there were also certain sports, clubs and school activities that it was acceptable to participate in based on your race. This continued through high school.
“While I don’t recall any real negative experiences, I did know that many of the Black students saw me as “not Black enough”. I was a good student in honors classes, which was seen as “trying to be white”. I was involved in band, chorus and theater, none of which was thought of as “acceptable” for Black students. Not only was I in band but, I became the first Black Drum Major for the Marching Band during my sophomore year. While I was proud of this accomplishment, I did get the occasional “you’re supposed to be one of us” from some of the Black band students if I told them to stop talking during rehearsal or to pay attention on the field.
“There were always a handful of Black students in chorus and our theater group and I always felt relieved to have someone else to share the experience with. I had a friend named Alison who was in chorus and the female vocal jazz group, NightenDalers, with me. I remember on one of the trips with the NightenDalers, the entire group was sitting with our chorus teacher. She was talking about slight changes in our dress code and said she wanted us to wear a long black dress and nude stockings. Alison and I looked at each other because we both knew nude stockings wouldn’t look right on our dark skin. Alison said to our teacher, “We can’t wear nude stockings”. Our teacher looked confused and said “Why”? Alison said, “Because our skin color is not nude colored”. After a couple of different explanations and a few minutes of thoughts, she finally got it. When she did, we all got a huge laugh out of it. Alison and I joked about that until the day she graduated but that was one experience none of the other girls would have gotten.
“If you were to see my group of friends from high school, we looked like a meeting of the United Nations. I got to experience some of the traditions from other cultures, but most of all, I got to experience true friendships. Even now, almost seven years later, we can all get together, and pick up where we left off as if we were all together yesterday. I wish everyone had experiences like these. Looking back, they weren’t so bad.”
You’ve probably heard it said that “progress is not always steadily upward”. It often comes with lumps and bumps. Sometimes it actually takes a backward step; however, we are always grateful when it proceeds in the proper direction. We can follow in these writings the upward progress in race relations and in our general quality of life. Let us thank God whenever we see evidence of that in our daily lives and let us resolve to do all in our power to make that success continue.
This issue ends with an article submitted by the American Cancer Society on colon cancer as a reminder that blacks have a higher incidence of colon cancer and the higher incidence of that statistic is based upon our failure to have regular physical examinations.
3. NEWS CLIP RECOGNITION OF THE MINISTRY OF THE REVEREND DR. JOE DARBY:
Here is a nice recognition of the Reverend Dr. Joe Darby, pastor of Morris Brown AME Church in Charleston. Click on the link and click on his photo.
http://www.counton2.com/servlet/Satellite?pagename=WCBD/HTMLPage/CBD_HTMLPage&c=
HTMLPage&cid=1031780708091
4. PREVENTING COLON CANCER:
March 2006 marks the seventh annual National Colorectal Cancer Awareness Month. Colorectal cancer, commonly referred to as “colon cancer,” is the third leading cause of cancer death in both men and women. It kills more women than ovarian, uterine, and cervical cancers combined. But most of those deaths could be prevented. Colorectal screening tests can find and remove polyps before they turn into cancer, preventing the disease from occurring. And even if cancer is found, when caught early, colorectal cancer has a 90 percent survival rate in the first five years after diagnosis. Unfortunately, only 39 percent of colorectal cancers are detected at this stage.
Despite overwhelming evidence that screening can save lives, many Americans still are not following recommendations from the American Cancer Society and others for early detection. Perhaps the least understood aspect of colon cancer, and the most compelling, is the fact that colon cancer can be stopped before it starts if precancerous polyps are found and removed through screening endoscopy (colonoscopy or flexible sigmoidoscopy), thereby avoiding the disease completely.
Early colon cancer often has no symptoms, which is why testing is so important. Getting tested is especially critical for Americans aged 50 and older as more than 90 percent of colon cancer cases are diagnosed in people in that age group.
When colon cancer is caught at an early stage, it has a 90 percent survival rate. Still, fewer than four in 10 (39 percent) of these cancers are discovered at this stage. The American Cancer Society says increasing colon cancer screening among adults 50 and older represents the single greatest opportunity to decrease colon cancer death rates in this country.
The reasons for low testing rates include many misconceptions. One common misperception is that only those with a family history should be tested. While those who have a family history of the disease are at increased risk, the majority of cases occur in people whose only risk factor is their age – so everyone 50 and older should be screened. Others think testing is necessary only once symptoms arise. Yet symptoms are often a sign that the disease has progressed into more advanced stages. Testing is most effective when a patient has no signs of illness.
“Many people 50 and older do not know that they are at risk and that they need to be screened,” said Carolyn D. Runowicz, MD, national volunteer president of the American Cancer Society. “If we can increase awareness and compliance to the level we’ve achieved with the Pap test and the mammogram, we will have a tremendous opportunity to save thousands of lives through the prevention and early detection of colon cancer.”
Talk to your doctor and loved ones about colon cancer. To get the most up-to-date information, call the American Cancer Society at 1-800-ACS-2345 or visit www.cancer.org.
Source: American Cancer Society, 2006
5. CLERGY FAMILY BEREAVEMENT NOTICE:
We regret to inform you of the passing of Sister Constance Justice. She was the oldest sister of the Reverend J. Stanley Justice, Pastor of Mt. Zion AMEC, Trenton, New Jersey (Camden/Trenton District); Reverend John C. Justice, Pastor of Murphy AMEC, Chester, PA (Wilmington District) and Evangelist Iris Waters, Mt. Zion AMEC, Trenton, New Jersey.
The following information has been provided regarding funeral arrangements.
Viewing and Services will be held Monday, February 6, 2006
Viewing – 9:00 a.m. – 12 noon
Funeral – 12 noon
Dickerson Chapel A.M.E. Church
165 South DuPont Highway
Millsboro, Delaware 19720
Rev. Richard Worthy, Pastor
Phone: 302-934-6360
Condolences may be sent to the family:
Mt. Zion A.M.E. Church
135 Perry Street
Trenton, New Jersey 08618
Phone: 609-695-4475
Fax: 609-394-2808
Please remember the entire Justice family in your prayers.
6. CLERGY FAMILY BEREAVEMENT ANNOUNCEMENTS PROVIDED BY:
Bishop Carolyn Tyler Guidry, Chair
Commission on Social Action Clergy Family Information Center
Mrs. Ora L. Easley - Administrator Email: Amespouses1@aol.com
(Nashville, Tennessee Contact) Phone: (615) 837-9736 Fax: (615) 833-3781
(Memphis, Tennessee Contact) (901) 578-4554 (Phone & Fax)
Please remember these families in your prayers.
7. CONDOLENCES TO THE BEREAVED FROM THE CHRISTIAN RECORDER:
The Chair of the Commission on Publications, the Right Reverend Gregory G. M. Ingram; the Publisher, the Reverend Dr. Johnny Barbour and the Editor of the Christian Recorder, the Reverend Dr. Calvin H. Sydnor III offer our condolences and prayers to those who have lost loved ones. We pray that the peace of Christ will be with you during this time of your bereavement
Archive of The Christian Recorder Online from 2004-2016; Dr. Calvin H. Sydnor III, 20th Editor of The Christian Recorder
