KEATON-BYNUM REUNION REFLECTIONS

Transcription

1 KEATON-BYNUM REUNION REFLECTIONS By Evelyn Allen Johnson I am awed, thrilled and indeed happy to be with you today. You are all such beautiful people. I get a comfortable feeling knowing that I am among relatives and friends. Some of you, I have never met or seen since childhood and being with you now is a blessing. Our interaction does not require investigation, feeling each other out, suspicion or any other activity as barriers have been broken and our relationship is established. We are blood relatives or have strong ties, all of which has deep meaning. We are family! None of us should ever feel alone. Lets stay together! My Grandfather was John Bynum. He married Nancy Carson. They lived in Old Fort, N.C. and raised seven daughters and two sons. The daughters were Ethel, Mable, my mother- Estelle, Jennie Lee, Effie Mae, Mattie Lee and Johnnie. Claude and William (better known as Bill) were the sons. Bill was adopted by Grandmother and Grandfather, at the time his mother, grandmother s sister died when he was an infant. Much of my early childhood was spent in Old Fort, N. C. My earliest memories are those of my Grandfather John Bynum bouncing me on his knee and singing, Bye and Bye When The Morning Comes. I have memories of his mother, whom everyone called Mammy Rachel. She had several other children, one of whom was Uncle Willie, who had only one leg, having lost the other in an explosion while on a train engine, where he was the engineer. Mammy Rachel s cabin was down the path from Grandmother Nancy and Grandfather John s farm. She was a small, agile, little woman, who always wore a bonnet, long dress with an apron, over the ankle- laced up black shoes and carried a cane, which she could swing to make a point. She was a natural controller, with a sharp tongue, and she directed everything and everyone. I have memories of her picking her way along the path to her home with her cane as she gave directives to someone near. I also remember her bending to give me a hug. Mammy Rachel s husband, my paternal great, grandfather, whom I do not remember having ever seen, was a preacher and he founded the Bynum Chapel. The church was on the road, just behind the house and the family cemetery was adjacent. Mammy Rachel s cabin had a loft and was next to a creek, where some women did their washing and beat soiled clothes with stones and used homemade lye soap, to get them sparkling clean. Most colored women in Old Fort earned monies by doing the laundry for up town white folks. I was always amazed at the dexterity of the women who retrieved or delivered huge baskets of laundry, as they strolled along balancing the baskets effortlessly on their heads. Early on the men were mostly employed by Old Fort s Tannery or the Railroad. After closure of the Tannery, farming became more salient. 1

2 Estelle was my mother. She married Robert Allen from Danville, Virginia and they made their home in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They were the parents of four daughters, Elizabeth, who died in early childhood, myself- Evelyn, Mable and Thelma. We were fortunate to spend our summer vacations in Old Fort with our Grandparents, Aunts, who were in and out from school or college and cousins who also loved coming to Grandmother s and Grandfather s for visits. We looked forward to those vacations and made many friends in Old Fort. Watching the horses, cows and grunting pigs was my greatest past time. It was exciting to be awakened at about 5:30 in the morning and hear the roosters crowing and the cowbells ringing as Grandfather guided his cows, horses and mules out to pasture. Monday was wash day all over town for colored folks, and I can still smell the pleasant odor of cooking ham and smoking wood from the fire under the great black, iron pots, that were used to boil soiled clothes at the washstands. Grandmother Nancy s mother, Sarah (Sari) Carson lived with the John Bynum family. She like Mammy Rachel was a former slave, having been born on the Carson Plantation. After her morning chores, of churning milk, making buttermilk and butter, which was mostly sold to neighbors, she and I would sit on the front porch in comfortable rocking chairs. She would comb and braid her long, white hair, which she wore twisted into a bun at the nape of her neck, and talk to me about her life in slavery. She found it easy to vent to me, but would not discuss this former life with other adults. It appeared to me that former slaves did not wish to speak about slavery, they seemed ashamed of their time in bondage and preferred to leave it be and forget. Grandma told me that she was 10 years old when the soldiers came and set her and the other slaves free. They were sent away from the big house with only the clothes they wore on their backs. The soldiers set the porch afire, in an attempt to burn down the house, but the mistress and her female children were able to extinguish it after the soldiers left. The master and his sons were away, mostly at war. Grandma revealed to me that her father was the Massa and her mother was a beautiful Princess, named Fatima, who was stolen, and brought to Charleston, S.C aboard a slave ship. It was determined that Fatima spoke Arabic. She reportedly had tan skin, muddy blue eyes and indicated she was a princess. Grandma said her mother, Fatima, cried most of the time and was known to be rebellious. I encourage you to visit the Carson Plantation. It is in Marion, N.C. and has been declared a National Historical site. When you visit the plantation, you will find beautiful quilts made both by Fatima and Kadella. Colonel Carson s slave Kadella, bore him sons and daughters, all of whom bore a striking resemblance to Colonel Carson. The sons, he freed when they reached puberty and sent them to Canada so they might live as free men. Great, Great Grandmother Fatima was bought by Colonel Carson, who gave her to his son Jonathan Logan Carson, as nurse for Johnathan s ailing, young son. Jonathan succeeded his father as Master of the plantation. Walk the paths these women walked, feel the same sunshine they felt and enjoy the same God given natural surroundings, while imagining yourself enduring the sinful and shameful indignities of slavery. 2

3 The Old Fort Station, still remains and is intact, almost the same as it was during our arrivals and before. Missing are the WHITE and COLORED signs over two separate waiting rooms. It was here that my sisters and I would meet Cousin Bob Keaton. He joyfully greeted us each year. He was a handsome man with a radiant smile. I recall mostly his fame for having such beautiful daughters. Trains played a very important role to the residents of Old Fort. Many were hired by the Railroad. Clocks were not necessary because everyone could tell time by the train whistle as the train approached Old Fort. There was the 6:40, the 8:20, the 7:10 or others and those trains were surprisingly, most always on time. Grandfather John Bynum was a prominent citizen of Old Fort. There is a rode there named after him, the John Bynum Road. To the colored folk he and Grandmother were known and addressed as Miss Nancy and Mr. John. As a child, I once expressed my amazement that we had so many relatives because the white people called him Uncle John and Grandmother, Aint Nancy. I remember once that a posse of white men, on horse back, came to the house as they were searching for a young colored man. They apparently planned to lynch him. He had been away to college and young white men considered him uppity. They approached him on his way home one evening, with his girlfriend, coming from the town movie, where colored folks were segregated in the upper balcony, they called the, crows nest. He was heckled, but when attacked, he wounded one of the youths with his pocket knife. Grandfather told them he had not seen the young man, but when he did, he would certainly let them know. They did not search his home, as they had done others. After they thundered away, Grandfather rushed upstairs to the attic and brought down the frightened, young man. Other men joined Grandfather in telling him how to best get out of town and treated his feet with a special ointment they made, so that the hounds could not detect his scent. Grandmother fixed him a lunch, and they sent him running towards the woods. This young man was never able to return to Old Fort again, even when his beloved mother became ill and passed away. Asheville was a favorite place for us to visit from Old Fort. The trip up the mountains was scenic and beautiful, although the road then was a two way highway, with winding, treacherous curves. Along the road, one would notice numerous, large structures, which were sanitariums with circular porches surrounding their multi floors. These porches contained white, iron, hospital beds, with patients under white sheets and blankets. They were Tuberculosis patients. TB was prevalent, a number one killer at this time, and there was no know cure, except for fresh air. Wealthy white patients flocked to these sanitariums from all over the country and Europe to seek being cured with fresh mountain air. Returning home to Old Fort from Asheville was a fun trip, particularly if you were a child and sat on the long seat, across the back of the segregated bus. It was indeed a roller coaster ride as the rickety bus flew down the mountain, sliding you from one side to the other as it quickly maneuvered the sharp, winding curves. I remember 3

4 one trip when my cousin Nan Custis, Aunt Ethel s daughter, and I, accompanied by Aunt Jennie, were at high risk for being crushed by an overly obese woman. She had boarded the crowded bus and squeezed in with us and others sitting on that long back seat. One of us children would get squeezed out on a particular turn, but when on the other turn, we slid down onto her, the much oversized lady yelled and complained bitterly. As children, we laughed hilariously even as we tried to control ourselves after Aunt Jennie s admonitions. We were weak and exhausted from laughter and our attempts for control when we alighted from the bus in Old Fort, Aunt Jennie too, as near the end of the ride, she too loss her composure, and joined us as the woman grunted, complained about us, struggled to maintain her wide space and threatened to have us put off the bus, not considering our sliding into her was not our fault. Nan and I decided that sitting in the back of the bus was fun and when we left Asheville, we had no problem rushing to the very back. That was the only fun I ever experienced with segregation. Grandmother Nancy was a remarkable woman of varied talents. I have always felt that if I could be just a portion of the woman she was I would be a great lady. She was strong, calm, eloquent, kind, and always in charge. She had a sense of humor, and loved children whom she inspired to, Study and get a good education. You won t regret it if you do, but you will regret it, if you don t. I never heard Grandmother raise her voice in anger. She was always a lady and expected the same of her daughters and granddaughters. We were not allowed to use slang and would be corrected if our English was not perfect. That meant no splitting of verbs or misuse of words. Even our aunts would correct my sisters and myself if we were not careful to speak proper English. They loved our northern accent, but only when we spoke correctly. Grandmother was serious about reading fortunes from coffee dregs. She was also a great mathematician and could add figures in her head quicker than any one I have ever known. Dr. McIntosh, Old Fort s famous physician and she were a team. He preferred her to his trained nurse. Together they delivered numerous Old Fort babies. I recall them removing Aunt Johnnie s tonsils while she moaned in the chair inside her bedroom, and I, with my sisters and playmates cringed, hidden outside, beneath her bedroom window. They removed her appendix with her lying on the dining room table, which had been pushed into the living room under the bright chandelier. Grandmother Nancy taught Red Cross classes for infant and child care in the colored Town Hall, which had been erected by one of Grandfather s brothers, across the street from the front porch. Grandmother was the town Cake Baker and no wedding of significance took place in Old Fort without her baking the wedding cake. She won first place, for many years at the County Fair for her beautiful, canned fruits and vegetables. The Bynum home was filled with quilted treasures, delicately embroidery pieces, sheets, pillow cases and towels, whose edges had been decorated with beautiful crocheted hand work, a skill taught the Bynum daughters by Grandmother Nancy and Grandma Sari. Grandmother was an excellent seamstress and made all her dresses. I was always amazed on my visits when she would proudly show me her new dress, which turned out to be a bolt of cloth. I can 4

5 also remember her delivering a great Sunday Sermon in Bynum Chapel in the absence of the minister. She taught elementary grades in the one room school, atop the hill next to the Bynum farm. Her daughters, Aunt Ethel, Aunt Mable, Aunt Effie and Aunt Johnnie, followed her by teaching in the little, white frame, one room schoolhouse with it s great bell on top, pot bellied stove and out house. This school teaching position opened to them after they finished college, affording Grandmother a rest. Graduating from here was the completion of a colored child s education, unless parents could send their children out of town to High School. The Old Fort High School was for white students only. I was always dismayed that the white grammar school, up town was a beautiful, red brick, state- of- the- art building, with rest rooms, cafeteria and well supplied play ground with a basket ball court. When a teacher was no longer available in the Old Fort colored school, the colored children had to walk 5 miles to another grammar school over on Baptist Side to again attend a one-room school. I was often there when school started, as school in North Carolina started earlier than those in Pittsburgh. I was invited and on occasion attended the first days of school with my friends. As a child, I felt pangs of injustice, as we passed the white school, where the students were enjoying amenities on the playground unknown to the children with whom I walked, most of them in their bare feet. Grandmother Nancy was loved and highly respected in Old Fort and when she passed away, all came together, at her funeral, colored and white. There were over 100 cars in the funeral procession which accompanied her from Morganton, N.C., where she had been living with Aunt Effie and her family after Grandfather passed, to her final resting place in the Old Fort family cemetery next to Grandfather John Bynum and among other family members. Allen Home School in Asheville was a favorite location for continued schooling of colored girls, after completion of grammar school in Old Fort. Grandfather and Grandmother sent all seven of their daughters to Allen. Here, aside from academics and social graces, which Grandmother had already begun at home, they were given piano lessons. The piano was a natural for all the Bynum girls, who took turns playing for Bynum Chapel church services and family gatherings in the Bynum living room. Classical music, popular tunes of the day and old time Spirituals were the norm for entertainment and pleasure. My mother, Estelle, enjoyed her time at Allen Home School, where she made life long friends and told my sisters and me many fun laden, delightful stories about her experiences there. Students wore uniforms and were always immaculately groomed, in navy-blue skirts and white middy blouses. White missionaries who comprised its faculty ran the school. Allen later became renown as a prestigious finishing school for young colored women. Aunt Johnnie, was the youngest of the Bynum children. Grandfather wanted very much to have another son and name him John Bynum, Jr., but Aunt Johnnie didn t conform. Grandfather had to settle for naming her Johnnie. She did make history in Old Fort. After receiving a Master of Arts Degree from Columbia University in 5

6 New York, she returned home to Old Fort. Voting day was a big day in Old Fort for the white residents, and came up shortly after her arrival. Aunt Johnnie determined that she would vote, and dressed prettily and quite stylishly, as she could definitely master, walked up town in her high heels to vote. Out side, the polling place was crowded with old Fords and pick up trucks. White farmers, some with their wives, stood around with the men in overalls and the women in gingham dresses, chatting and joking. Aunt Johnnie s appearance caused an immediate silence. Her air of refinement, stylish dress and class, indicated immediately that she was one of John Bynum s daughters. She went inside, stated her mission and was immediately denied the right to vote. She was quietly furious and asked why she, a well educated citizen was not permitted to vote, while pointing out white farmers around her, who were able to vote, although they were illiterate and had to have the ballot read and explained to them so they might affix their X mark. Not to be out done, Aunt Johnnie rushed back home, sat down at the hall desk and wrote a letter to President Franklin D. Roosevelt. I never knew what she said in that letter, but Aunt Johnnie was summoned to the voting poll when the next Election Day rolled around, and she voted, by order of the President of the United States. I dare say that she was the first, visibly known colored person to vote, south of the Mason Dixon line before passage of the Voting Rights Act in Asheville afforded me my first learning experience in public, drinking water fountains. As a child, I attempted to drink water, on a hot day, from a fountain in a public square. I didn t notice if it was painted up white or black, or if it bore a sign, stating, WHITE or COLORED. I was surprised when my aunt grabbed me back with a, No!, No! No!. I was shocked, but grateful she had saved me from, what I suspected was poisoning. She explained nothing until we reached home, but it was difficult to get a six year old to comprehend the principals of segregation. Aunt Jennie Latta lived in Asheville after she married Uncle Bubba Latta. He was, at that time, one of the wealthiest colored men in the South, and certainly in Asheville. He owned a block in the colored, business section, which contained a multi storied hotel, whose first floor contained a barbershop, dry goods store, drug store, grocery store and other colored businesses. Uncle Bubba was a flamboyant, jovial, aristocratic gentleman, always immaculately dressed in a suit with vest, gold watch chain, spats and top hat. He had a well trimmed goatee, carried a cane, not for ambulation, but for style. He was so influential that he once convinced the head mistress at Allen School to call all the students for assembly into the main hall, so that he could view them individually, in an attempt to find my mother, Estelle. He had met her briefly at the train station, learned that she was on her way to Allen Home School and was one of John Bynum s daughters. He did not have her name. He was unable to locate her that day he searched, but he did find Aunt Jennie. Mother had graduated and was only returning for a visit. At the time, she was a student at Pratt Institute in New York City. Uncle Bubba had considerable real estate holdings. He built a beautiful home for Aunt Jennie, which was located between the colored and white residential section of 6

7 town and as close as colored could live to an affluent white neighborhood. There were many rooms and servants. One morning while being served breakfast, Aunt Jennie told Uncle Bubba that she had read in the morning newspaper that the banks were going under and closing down. It was during the year She suggested to him that he go down to the City Bank, where he had money and draw it out. He laughed and said she was over reacting. However, at her continued insistence, he did go to the bank and talked to the Bank President, who assured him his money was safe and he had no need to worry. When he went back home, Aunt Jennie was upset that he had not withdrawn his money, but buried her concern amid his confidence. The next morning s newspaper carried headlines of the bank president s suicide as he had jumped out a high storied bank window. The bank had gone under and was closed. Uncle Bubba lost close to $100, 000. This was a considerable sum at that time when the average wage for a man was $10.00 or less per week and most colored men were out of work. Fortunately for Uncle Bubba he had other holdings, but he never recovered to his pre depression status. I was last in Asheville in 1947, when I worked as a Nurse at the Asheville Colored Hospital. My experiences during that time were rewarding and unforgettable. I left, never expecting that I would return. Now, that I am here, I see that so much has changed. It is a beautiful city and I am delighted. It has always amazed me that there are white people who profess to be Christians and follow God s teachings, read their Bibles and attend church regularly yet supported segregation and many to this day wish for it s return. I am reminded of the Sunday morning my Aunt Mattie and I decided to go to a white church near where we lived here in Asheville rather than a colored church across town. We entered this beautiful church, well dressed, wearing our Sunday best with hats and gloves and took seats in the middle of the left isle of the church. I was always proud to accompany Aunt Mattie. She carried herself in a genteel manner and was always a lady. I never heard her curse or argue. Her voice could be firm, for no nonsense or sweet and warm as she unleashed her charm. I noticed an elderly, white haired man sitting next to me, because he had suddenly become restless. While the minister was speaking, he gave me a hard, mean stare, which seemed out of place on the countenance of this aristocratic gentleman. Suddenly he narrowed his eyes, his face red with anger, he spat upon the plush carpeting and hastily arose from his seat. I watched in shock and disappointment as he moved to another seat in the aisle in front of us. I noticed nods of approval from other worshippers and found the hostile, unfriendly stares uncomfortable. It was then that Aunt Mattie patted my hand and whispered, We re not welcome here. We re leaving. Aunt Mattie held her head high in a dignified, proud manner and I noticed her polished, ladylike smile to those with unfriendly stares. I am so happy that Asheville has changed. Music has always been an integral part of my life, and when I was last in Asheville it was alive and ever present in the black community. This was during a time of powerful jazz, with swinging big bands like Count Basie and Duke Ellington. Great singers like Ella Fitzgerald, Billy Holliday, Author Prysock and Billy Eckstine ruled 7

8 the airway. It was the time of the Jersey Bounce, Nellie Lutcher and her Fine Brown Frame, Nat King Cole with Straighten Up and Fly Right, Louie Armstrong with his Caledonia and Ain t Nobody Here But Us Chickens! That was indeed a glorious time for music lovers. A local Inn featured a great band and a group of my friends attended. I was to accompany them, but at the last minute, I was called into the hospital to prepare for an emergency surgery. Segregation was in full swing at this time, as was good music. White patrons dined and were entertained upstairs at the particular Inn featuring the popular band, while colored patrons were relegated to the basement. As the evening progressed, the white patrons were so carried away with the great sounds of music from downstairs, that they went down and joined the colored folks in dancing to the fantastic soul music that caused the building to rock. Before long, the police came and arrested all the patrons, white and colored. They were put in police wagons and taken off to jail, charged with breaking segregation laws. I am so happy that Asheville has changed, as well as the South. God s gifts can now be shared. When I was 9 years old, I decided that I wanted to become a professional nurse. Actually there were only two choices for young, colored women when I finished high school and that was to become either a teacher or a nurse. There were no black role models in Pittsburgh at that time, because colored teachers and nurses were neither taught or hired there. Few in Pittsburgh outside of myself, even knew that they existed. Lack of visibility indicated to many that colored women were mentally inferior and not capable of learning the academics necessary to become teachers or nurses. My grandmother and aunts were my role models and I chose to be a nurse like my Aunt Mattie. I was unable to enter any school of nursing in Pennsylvania. Although I was an honor student, I was told colored girls were not accepted. This was indeed disappointing and a blow for me. I was later accepted into Freedmen s Hospital at Howard University. Thank God black schools existed. Again I was an honor student, having taken the National Nursing Boards with nurses from George Washington University, Georgetown University and other white schools, I scored the second highest in the District of Columbia. I returned to Pittsburgh and was again rejected for work in my profession and was told it was because I was colored. It was then that Aunt Mattie, my mentor insisted that I come to Asheville, where she was both the Administrator and Director of Nurses at the Asheville Colored Hospital. She needed an Operating Room Nurse. I gratefully came to Asheville to work with some of the best nurses I have ever known in the profession. I have worked at many of the best hospitals in the country, such as George Washington University Hospital, Strong Memorial Hospital at the University of Rochester, N.Y., Cedars of Lebanon and the Good Samaritan Hospitals in Los Angeles. In my opinion the colored nurses at the Asheville Colored Hospital rated at the top among the best. Many white lives were saved in that hospital s emergency room. The hospital was an old mansion, converted into a hospital. There was no doctor assigned to the hospital. All physicians were private and sent their colored patients there if they required hospitalization. Physicians were called in, as needed for their patients and a few took turns being on call for 8

9 emergency patients or those presenting without a physician. For many of the latter, nurses had to act and when a physician did arrive they had done a superb job of stabilizing the patient, delivering the baby or saving a life. Paramedics were not in existence during this period. The chief surgeon was a Harvard University graduate who was Chief Surgeon at both the white City Hospital and the Asheville Colored Hospital. He learned to respect the work of black nurses. Our patients were the most complicated, because black people, at that time felt that you only went to the hospital to die, and when they did come they were seriously ill or near death. Surgery was complicated. Colored doctors were not permitted to do surgery. If one of their patients required surgery, they had to turn the patient over to a white surgeon and enter the operating room, only as an observer. The use of the N word was not unusual, as it was used frequently by doctors while discussing patients. Neither my presence nor that of my co-working nurse in the Operating Room was a deterrent. I, after having worked with skilled and famous black surgeons like Dr. Charles Drew, Dr. Asa Yancey, Dr. Sam Bullock, Dr. Burke Syphax and others, knew that the white surgeons, I now assisted could have benefited much from association with those colored surgeons, I previously assisted at Howard University. It has been my pleasure to convey these messages. Now let me introduce my immediate family. My husband Attorney and Judge Pro Tem for the Los Angeles Court system, Raymond Johnson, Sr. could not be here for reasons involving his health. He is one of the original Tuskegee Airmen and sends you his very best wishes. Dr. Mable Paige, my sister. A graduate of the University of Pittsburgh, she is the first black principal to be hired in the New Castle, Pennsylvania School System and has received many honors including being selected as the First Lady of New Castle, Pennsylvania. She is the first black woman to have received this honor. Dr. James Paige, Mable s husband, also a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh, has practiced Dentistry in New Castle for many years. Although there are few black citizens in New Castle, he has maintained a busy and thriving practice consisting mainly of white residents who patiently wait in line for his services. He has received many outstanding awards as a skilled dentist and is a member of the University of Pittsburgh Dental School Faculty as a Dental Implant Specialist. He has contributed much effort to enhance the lives of those less fortunate in New Castle through local agencies and the NAACP. Dr. Marjorie Warren, my daughter. Marjorie is a widow, having lost her husband, the late Dr. Howard Rodney Warren, a surgeon, early in their marriage. Marjorie graduated from Howard University, Meharry and Emory Medical Schools and is a Child Psychiatrist. She is currently a member of the medical school faculty at Howard University. Her daughter, my granddaughter, Alexis Warren planned to be with us but due to a commitment involving her studies, her plans were changed. Alexis is a graduate student at Howard University. 9

10 Atty. Raymond Johnson, Jr., my eldest son is a graduate of Howard University. A former Department of Justice Attorney, he currently practices law in Birmingham Alabama, teaches Law at the Cumberland School of Law and serves as a Television, on camera legal analyst for the general public, regarding select high profile cases. He is the father of two daughters, my granddaughters, Dr. Erica Johnson and Ashley Johnson. Erica is a graduate of Meharry Medical College and currently serves as a resident physician in Emergency Medicine. Ashley is a senior Law Student at the University of Maryland. Dr. Robert Johnson, my youngest son is a graduate of the University of Southern California and the University of California at San Francisco. He serves as a dentist for the county of Los Angeles. My nephew, Stanley Page, son of my late sister Jean Allen Page, and graduate of Bucknell University is vice president for Western U S Sales for Global Scholars. He travels through out the United States mentoring, counseling and advocating for young black students to obtain college admission, successfully matriculate and earn their degrees. He often transports students to the university, assists them in settling into a dormitory or other housing, and makes available funding necessary for study and graduation. I have greatly enjoyed meeting and being here with you for this memorable Reunion occasion. Thank you for being my family. I love you all! Evelyn Allen Johnson 7/24/11 Evelyn Allen Johnson