Playing poker – my aunt Gladys with cigarette, me, my uncle Hugh, cousins Jan and Dale, my mother.Still playing poker – my mother with glasses, cousin Warren, cousin Ernie, aunt Gladys, cousin Jan and cousin Dale.The house on Old Plank Road. Between Milford and Wixom Michigan.
My mother and Henry bought this house about half an hour from Detroit about 1961. There was talk of moving there year around, but it never happened. We had a large garden and went up on weekends and for longer periods during the summer. We only owned 2 acres of the 40 acre farm, not including the barn. In 1967 someone bought the barn and started keeping chickens and pigs there, though they didn’t live on or near the property. The animals regularly escaped. The pigs dug up our garden and the chickens roosted on the porch. Before Henry and the man came to blows, they finally sold the house to the man with the animals.
These are my feet in my work boots. I wore them to milk the goats and work in the garden when it was muddy. It must have been muddy because I have my jeans tucked into my socks. I don’t remember any stripped socks but there I am wearing some. The rocking chair used to rock on Nanny and Poppy’s back porch.
In 1978 we lived in rural Simpson County, Mississippi with our 4 children, some chickens and some goats. While looking for a photograph of my feet in my work shoes I came across this batch of negatives which included a photo of my shoes.
Click to enlarge
In row one, we have my friend Teresa’s son, Palo, holding his baby sister. The baby’s father is holding her in the next. I cannot remember their names right now. Picture three is my family plus Palo. Last are baby and father again.
In row two, I’m outside with my three oldest daughters, Jilo, Ife and Ayanna. Next two photos are of our friend Robert with his and Ruth’s two children. Robert got us started with milk goats and rabbits. He had a very good herd of milk goats himself. Last is the photo of my shoes.
In row three, we start with Robert and children again. The ghost photo has their two and our three oldest. Next, my midwife, Ruth, is reading to my daughter, Ayanna, who she helped to deliver. Last, I’m reading while holding baby Tulani.
The three older girls are in the side strip with the baby crib my mother and her siblings used and all of my children used. Except for Ife who slept in a dresser drawer. You can see baby Tulani best in the bottom row dribbling milk. The house was built on stilts and was about 10 feet up in the air. I do not know why they built it like that because it was in tornado country with no water to flood anywhere nearby.
For more photographs click below. Some will be shoe related and some will not.
When I saw the theme for this weeks Sepia Saturday was film, I wanted to post a photo from a movie I remember wandering into one evening when I was about 4. We lived in St. John’s Congregational Church parsonage/community house in Springfield, Massachusetts where my father was pastor. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the name of the movie. I remember waking up from my nap and going down the hall to a big room where the movie was being shown. There I saw a larger then life, green genie coming horrifyingly out of a bottle. Perhaps it was “The Thief of Bagdad“, released in 1940. By 1950 it could have been available for showing in darkened rooms full of folding chairs to community groups. I did not stick around after the Genie started coming out of the bottle.
However, this movie is not sepia and it’s not from my family photo stash, so I kept looking. Finally I remembered finding an envelope of negatives (film) of me, my bear, Beatrice, and my grandfather, Dr. Albert B. Cleage Sr. They were taken in the Summer of 1948 in our backyard.
Click to enlarge
For more Sepia Saturday film related (or not) posts, click.
Training Duke
As Told To Me By My Uncle Henry Cleage
Sometimes we would wake up and Uncle Hugh would be sitting on the porch. He wouldn’t say good-bye when he left. Mama’s family was just like that, they’d appear and then disappear without a word. We had a great big police dog, Duke. He was a bad sucker. Everybody in the city knew he was a bad dog.
So Uncle Hugh said “That dog ain’t worrying me.”
Uncle Hugh Marion Reed
You know, he used to come around the house in the back. We told him not to come in there, that dog would eat him up.
He said, “That dog ain’t gonna touch me.”
We said don’t mess with that dog. He just insisted. He walked out there to the little screened back porch. He walked out. Duke was standing there all ruffled up. He should have known, because Duke lifted that upper lip, you know? (Note: Here Henry would lift half of his upper lip and give a low, menacing growl) Duke backed up a couple of steps. Uncle Hugh kept by the door and he took the first step. The dog stood there and Uncle Hugh thought he had him and let the door slam and soon as that door slammed, Duke just leaped at his head. Uncle Hugh tore up the whole screen on the back door getting back inside. He was going to force the dog back and go out there and show him who’s boss. Well, he got back in because we all hollered at the dog and grabbed him and everything else, but we knew the dog.
Smoking all those cigarettes had got him, he said. He was going to pop off at any time, he didn’t think he ought to go through that excitement he would have had to go through to train him. “That is a bad dog,” he said. “That is a tough dog, he’s a smart dog too, but if I was here a couple days, I’d straighten that out.”
Well, he could have. If he’d been there a couple days, I mean.
On the back of the photograph my grandmother, Fannie (aka Nanny), wrote “Barbara Lynne 3, Pearl Michelle 2, Kristin Graham 4. May 30 – 1951. This was snapped by DeeDee.”
This photo was taken in my grandparents backyard. We spent most Saturdays back then at Nanny’s and Poppy’s playing with our cousins. On the left end of the wagon is my cousin Barbara holding a cowboy boot and a toy gun. In the middle is my sister Pearl who is writing madly. I am on the right end holding a doll and looking worried. My sister grew up to be a writer. I grew up to have 6 children. If only cousin Barbara had grown up to ride bucking broncos or live on a ranch or rob banks, the mirroring of the future would have been complete. This photograph was taken by Barbara’s older sister, Dee Dee who was 7 years old at the time.
Front: Barbara, Pearl. Back: Dee Dee the photographer, Poppy, Kristin
For more old photos, with or without dolls, click on the picture below.
Unknown woman #1 and unknown woman #2 (who is leaning just a little too close to my grandfather.), my grandfather Albert, my grandmother Pearl. 1910.
My grandparents, Albert and Pearl (Reed) Cleage were married in October of 1910 in Indianapolis, Indiana. For their honeymoon they went to the Appalachian Exposition in Knoxville, Tennessee and from there to visit my grandfather’s people in Athens, Tennessee. After returning home, they went to Decatur, Illinois to decide if that was where my grandfather wanted to practice medicine. One of my aunts told me that this photo was taken at a medical convention they attended soon after their marriage. Perhaps it was in Decatur.
Thanks to a comment below by Tattered and Lost I found that the location of the photograph was actually Mt. Vernon, VA at George Washington’s plantation. I will be posting more about this soon.
At any rate, the women are all wearing hats, although none are quite so fancy as the one in this weeks prompt. To see other hat wearing women, men and babies plus several posts completely unrelated to hats, click on the picture below.
To see the 10 minute movie “The New York Hat” (1912) that the prompt came from, follow this link – “The New York Hat.”
My grandfather wrote in his little notebook in 1940,
“Bonzo taken away by Humane Society Sept. 3rd 1940 $1.00 donation made. This dog was about 12 years old.”
In this photograph my mother, Doris was 10 years old. Bonzo must be about 5. They are in the backyard of my grandparents house on the east side of Detroit. Bonzo was an outside dog and had a place under the porch to sleep and get out of the weather. He went through the cold winters there. When he was taken away by the Humane Society he was suffering terribly from rheumatism.
Before my mother’s family had Bonzo, they had a dog named Toodles. Toodles was allowed in the house sometimes because once, when there was company and he was in the basement, he fell down the steps and, as I remember the story, broke his neck. Which is why Bonzo always stayed in the yard.
For more fine old photographs, some of girls and animals, click on the link below.
A letter written home to Detroit by my parents on New Year’s Eve, 1944. My father was studying Cinema with the plan to use it in his ministry in the future.
The inside of the bulletin from the New Year service.
2130 S. Hobart Blvd. #4 Los Angeles 7, California December 31, 1944
Hi Folks: (HAPPY NEW YEAR)
Well it’s New Year’s Eve…10:25 p.m. here…so we’re waitin’ for the New Year…and its 1:25 a.m. there… so you-all are already into 1945. I suppose you-all had a little Coffee-Ice-Cream and Tuna-fish salad n’ that celebration.. and since Hugh was in for Christmas I suppose Henry was in… leavin’ po’ little Hugh out at Plum Nelly by his lonesome. We just finished supper and my “worster-half” is stretched out on the couch reading Soroyan’s “Human Comedy”. I can’t remember whether you-all read it or not. If not get it (Barbara) cause it’s good… in its own way. Henry and Hugh ought to like it.
I preached this morning at the Congregational Church. The minister, Reverend Galloway went up to some “Snow Mountain” with his young-people for some sort of New Year’s Conference. He asked me sort of late… but Doris made me do it…so I did. We had sort of a time getting ready at the last minute n’ that. Doris had to put my one still presentable suit back together with a needle and thread (they all fell to pieces at the same time) … and press my robe which I haven’t used since leaving Lexington… and I had to “prepare my message” Saturday night. We got to bed about three A.M…and got up at eight-thirty because it takes about an hour to get down off of Sugar-Hill and across town to the East Side…on the Streetcar.
Major Dean assisted me in the Pulpit as a Deacon and introduced me to the Congregation (again). See enclosed Bulletin. I arrived at 11:03 (late as usual)…Me and the choir rushed in at the same time. (Negroes is Negroes the world over…like Daddy’s Fried Chicken) The service went very well…and the attendance was very good in spite of the absence of the young-people…bigger crowd than the other times we’ve been present. I brought them a powerful New Year’s Message (which I will have Doris describe in detail in as much as I’m modest!) After the service the people were very nice…invited us to the annual church supper and that. Mrs. Dean was present and threatened to have us over soon. She said that she’s been ill for the past three months…and has planned to write you-all for lo these many months but… first one thing and then another n’ that. Her brother Captain York has been sick in the hospital for some several months…but seems to be improving she said. A young woman and her little son of about six (or so) joined the church under the power of the message and that. The officers didn’t quite know what to do when they said they wanted to join but we finally fellowshipped them N’ that. Everyody was very nice but all neglected to mention the customary “HONORARIUM”… which, of course, I didn’t mention…but thought about nevertheless!
(Handwritten note by my mother along the side of the letter:)
Dear Folks, Wish you all could have been at Church this morning. Toddy preached one of the best sermons he’s ever preached – and that I’ve ever heard. A very simple theme – Text: “the Kingdom of God comes not with observation; the Kingdom of god is within you” – with his own pecular interpretation and illustration. It was good. Thank you for the lovely Christmas presents and a very Happy New Year.
P.S. After the sermon “Montgomery” rose as a body and testified for the reverend. My aunt Gwen’s cousin from Alabama said, “I have been in Los Angeles six weeks and I belong to the Episcopalian church, but this is the first time since I’ve been here that I really feel like I’ve been to church.” Amen!
This is the final page of the letter my father wrote home on Christmas Day, 1944. He talks about wanting to come back to Detroit and various ideas he has for finding a church there. It would be another 8 years before he made it back to Detroit as pastor of St. Marks Presbyterian Church. That is a post for another day.
Last night (Christmas eve n’ that) we practically decided to return to Detroit in July and organize some sort of a church there. We ain’t too particular…Congregational, Presbyterian..Triumph, the Church and the Prophet…or what have you. Perhaps a Presbyterian would be best…in as much as Daddy and Uncle Henry could then talk someone out of some sort of a building! could it it be done…you-all? (or do we just want to come home) if it was Presbyterian I would try to get something over in the Bible-belt with Rev. White…and the rest…you know over there with Bethel…Plymouth…etc. Buddy would be glad to look around for me…he loves to transact big business. (He looked up that big church at the end of Scotten at Grand River for me earlier…The Real EstateCompany sent me
full particulars…95 thousand will handle and that…so we had to sort of let it go…since they wouldn’t take fifty dollars down and rent it! Said they didn’t care who they sold it too however…long as the money was available. But back to the subject…my mind wanders…there is a modest little Church on Forest near John R. (I think…it could be Warren) which is almost unused…I think a few lingering white-folks still worship there…brick…and not bad looking..but small oughtn’t cost too much. If you-all (at a family council assembled) think such an undertaking wouldn’t be too foolish…
Church at John R. and Forest from Google street view today.
I’ll get Buddy to look up the Trustees or whatever there is and see what they want for it. WILL THE UNITED PRESBYTERIANS DO ANYTHING TO SUPPORT SUCH A VENTURE!!! Well let me know…I’m barkin’ up many a tree…tryin to uncover something or other OUT OF THE SOUTH (my stomach ulcers don’t thrive so well in Dixie…the fog is too heavy or something). And I seem to be headin’ for Detroit both consciously and unconsciously it seems like ‘twould be better to just go on and get it over with! But perhaps ’tis just Christmas. Lee, the Boy who was by today wants me to go in partnership with him in a Portrait Photographic Studio down on Central Avenue. He can get some money (Wants me to get some…but can get it all if I want to work for him I’d like to know what you-all think of the church idea, though…FIRST! HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE SOMEBODY TO FIND OUT WHAT THE PRESBYTERIAN BOARD WOULD DO IF ANYTHING! If nothing can be done…I’ll continue my gentle hints to the Congregational brethern in Philadelphia that they enter the field of Mission work. Them dern Congregationalists are so lacking in enthusiasm, however, it’s like pulling eye-teeth. (I am not again indicating my indecision…I’m talking about next summer…by which time I will have all the CINEMA they have here…and would be ready to go to New York for a Doctorate..if I could get to New York… If I could get a church IN THE NORTH, never fear, I would use my CINEMA. I would build the biggest youth organization in America right around CINEMA PRODUCTION and its allied arts!) So there…I am not changing my mind again! Well so-long…Write sometime you-all!
Now that the holiday rush is past I’m getting caught up on my blog reading. I hope that you had a wonderful Christmas.
I really enjoyed reading this letter. It’s fun to read your father’s thoughts as he thinks about how to organize a church in Detroit–and I’m looking forward to future posts about how he eventually gets back there.
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One Response to Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories – Christmas Day 1944 – Part 3
Kristin,
I know I’ve said before that you come by the writing gene naturally. It’s such a part of your family’s heritage. Beautiful!
Kathy, You got here! Good to see your comment.
A letter written on Christmas Day shows his dedication. These days people don’t seem to write letters other than the ’round robins’ that I hate.
Perfect fit for the theme. I can’t wait to hear the rest of the story unfold.
I love the determination, vision, and hope. A wonderful letter.
Now that the holiday rush is past I’m getting caught up on my blog reading. I hope that you had a wonderful Christmas.
I really enjoyed reading this letter. It’s fun to read your father’s thoughts as he thinks about how to organize a church in Detroit–and I’m looking forward to future posts about how he eventually gets back there.