Celia Rice Cleage Sherman 1855-1930

My Great grandmother Celia holding my aunt Gladys. 1923. Detroit.

This post is a combination of information I found through records and memories of my aunts and uncles about their grandmother Celia. She died before I was born so I never had the chance to meet her.

Celia Rice was born in Virginia about 1855. Her father was a member of the Rice family and her mother was enslaved on the Rice plantation.  She was brought to Tennessee when she was small.  By the time I asked, nobody remembered her mother’s name.  She was about ten when freedom came.

My aunt Gladys said that when Celia was a child, she had to walk around in the sun. The masters wife did not want her to be confused with the white children of the family, who she resembled. 

On April 23, 1872 Celia Rice and Louis Cleage were married in Athens, McMinn County Tennessee. They moved to Louden County, TN where their five children were born over the next 11 years. Josephine “Josie” was born in 1873.  Jacob was born in 1875. Henry was born in 1877. Charles Edward was born in 1879.  My grandfather, Albert, was born in 1883. Louis did farm work and Celia did house work.  She was unable to read or write.

My uncle Louis said that Lewis C. worked all day for 50 cents.  Celia worked all week for 50 cents.  He often spent his on good times before he got home.  Many nights he spent in jail – drunk – playing the guitar and singing!

The marriage doesn’t seem to have been a happy one and by 1899 they had split up and Celia married Roger William Sherman, a carpenter, in Athens, Tennessee.  She was 45 years old. By 1900 oldest daughter, Josie, was married to James Cleage (Different Cleage family, not related but off of the same plantation.), a teacher and  they had several children. Jacob was not at home in the 1900 census.  Edward, Henry and Albert were at home and all students. Celia could read. She had birthed five children and all five were living and doing well.

After her husband died, Celia lived with her son Edward and his family in Athens, TN for some years and then she moved to Detroit where her other three sons lived.

My uncle Henry said she used to give him an apple every once in awhile and slip him a nickel.  He was her favorite.  My aunt Gladys says they used to stop by her room sometimes and she would try to show them how to tat and crochet and it was kind of interesting, sitting on her bed, watching.

My Aunt Anna says, Grandma Celia was in Detroit for a while…making the rounds between uncle Henry, uncle Jake and ours….She would get tired of one house and occupants…complain and move to another... there was a Rev. Rice… he was a big shot in the Presbyterian Church… he came to town in a blaze of notoriety….to speak at some church… Granma  [Celia] wanted to go…but Daddy wouldn’t hear of it! His name and picture were in the paper…Anna said she saw the paper and that he looked just like Granma.

My uncle Henry remembers one time his Grandma Celia wanted to go back to Athens.  “….and Daddy said he could not send her to Athens.  And they went on for about ten years and then, pretty soon she said, well, I’m going to Athens if I have to go up and down the street and beg.  He was fussing and hollering and she said ‘I am going to go to Athens.  I am going to go home.’  And finally he had to give her the money to go.  I guess it just gets in you sometimes.  You know, living with us was no picnic.  She had to go and he didn’t have the money.”

I have been unable to find a death record, certificate or burial information for my great grandmother.  She was living with my Grandfather Albert Cleage in the 1930 census.  Going by the Memories of my Aunt Anna, she must have died soon after.

My Aunt Anna remembers being about 5 and in the kitchen when Granma Celia had a stroke.  She was sick for quite awhile before she died. She remembers when Celia died they  laid her out in the living room…Henry was a broken man!  She places Henry at about 13 years old.

Once I worked in a sewing factory

The night I left. Waiting for time to go catch the bus.

I graduated with a BFA in December of 1968 and caught the Greyhound bus out of town right after Christmas. At the time, it was the only way I could figure out to leave home. My true love was living with someone else. My parents would not look kindly on me moving to my own place in Detroit, so I hit the road. I first went to San Francisco. Stayed about a week. The person I knew out there had returned to Mississippi. Decided to head to Washington D.C. where my sister was a student at Howard. I hadn’t enjoyed the 5 day bus ride out so I caught the train east. I stayed in my sister’s dorm room for a week or two, until one of her play writing teachers hooked me up with a friend of his in New York City, a woman from Belgium who taught French at Columbia University.

I caught the train to NYC and took a cab from Grand Central Station to her apartment on Riverside Drive.  I remember looking out of the apartment window one evening, listening to Joni Mitchell singing “I’ve looked at Clouds” coming from another apartment. I stayed with her a week or two, got a job doing clerical work. Met some of her friends. Tried hash. Whoa. Moved to the YWCA when her mother came for a visit. Went through the blizzard of 1969. Got a letter from Jim and decided to go back to Detroit. I took a plane.

"Black Star clothing"
Sewing factory.

Some first thoughts on arriving back were that Detroit was the dirtiest place I’d been. Gray and dirty. I moved back in my mother’s and got a job at the newly opened Church sewing factory. It was just the sort of job I wanted.  I didn’t have to give it any thought so I could devote my mind to planning and plotting other things.  There were only about 4 of us working there, sewing African print “mod” clothes. I felt a connection to my seamstress ancestors while working there.

Several weeks later, I moved out, much to the consternation of my parents, especially my mother, who would have rather I discussed it with her first instead of the late night call I made telling her I wouldn’t be coming home.  After staying in the Black Conscience Library for a few days (there was a living quarters), I found an apartment and discovered it wasn’t that hard to move out and be on my own. I felt a great weight off of my mind, being on my own.  I worked there sewing for almost a year before leaving to become a revolutionary librarian and have my first daughter. I was 22.

Pregnant revolutionary librarian – making “Revolution Begins in the Mind” posters or something.
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Stolen from Africa

Do you know the immigration story of one or more female ancestors? Do you have any passenger lists, passports, or other documentation? Interesting family stories?

africa_americaI don’t have any immigration stories, passenger lists, passports or even the names of the women who came to the United States, probably in the 18th century, against their will from Africa.  Until I took an mtdna test several years ago and persuaded my father’s sister to do the same I didn’t know what part of Africa they were from. We have no oral history of the Middle Passage.

In 2008 my sister received a free mtdna testing kit from African Ancestry.  Since she wasn’t interested, she passed it on to me. The results came back L3e for the haplogroup and they said I shared dna with the Mende people of Sierra Leone.

Later I decided to test again with Family Tree and my father’s sister also tested. My results came back L3e3*.  My aunts came back L3e2*. They said her results were the same as a broad area of Sub-Sarahan Bantu speaking groups.

In 2011 23andMe had a free offer to entice more African Americans to test and I took it. The results came back L3e3b.  Neither of these testers were so specific with a group as African Ancestry was.  They were more general, saying that L3e3b is one of the Sub-Saharan groups. One said they had matches from both Sierra Leone and Ethiopia. One map I found shows the group originating around Ethiopia and migrating out towards West Africa.

Reading online I found that most African Americans in the United States left from a fort on  Bunce Island in Sierra Leone. The photos on the left of the the montage show the fort back when it was being used and then the overgrown, green island and fort as they are today.I also found that most slave ships coming into the United States docked on Sullivan’s Island outside of Charleston, South Carolina.  The people were sold at auction on the north side of the Exchange building in Charleston, shown on the far left side of the photo. Other photos include maps of Sierra Leone and Charleston/Sullivan’s Island, an actual photograph taken in the 1800’s aboard a slave ship, and an old drawing of the auctioning off of slaves.

In 1974-1975 my family and I lived in Mt. Pleasant, right outside of Charleston.  My husband was working for the Emergency Land Fund trying to help black farmers save their land. We often went swimming at the beach on Sullivan’s Island, without knowing that our African ancestors probably landed near there after crossing the Atlantic ocean during the 1700s.

When my oldest daughter was born in 1970 we decided to give her a family name and an African name. I picked a name out of a children’s story we had in the Black Conscience Library. The name was Jilo. We could never find out what kind of name Jilo was or what it meant. After I received the information that Eliza’s line went back to the Mende people of Sierra Leone, I found a list of names and found that the name Jilo comes from  Sierra Leone.

In the spring of 2013 my daughter Ife, her two children and I went to Sullivan’s Island, South Carolina, to see the place where the slave ships landed.

The view of the harbor from Fort Moultrie, South Carolina.

My grandson and I standing by the sign on Sullivan's Island.
Sanding with my grandson next to the sign on Sullivan’s commemorating the entry site for the thousands of Africans that arrived through that port.

To see photos of my mtdna line click My Matrilineal Line and More.

Getting An Education – Fearless Females

What education did your mother receive? Your grandmothers? Great-grandmothers? Note any advanced degrees or special achievements.

On My Maternal Side
My 3X great grandmother, Annie Williams,  was born about 1820 in Virginia into slavery. According to the 1880 Census, when she was about 60, she spoke English and could not read or write.

Eliza - my 2x great grandmother

Her daughter, my 2X great grandmother, Eliza Williams Allen, was born in Alabama about 1839 into slavery. She was freed by 1860. According to the 1910 census, she was about 67, spoke English and could not read or write

"Jennie Allen Turner in hat"
Jennie - my greatgrandmother

Her daughter, my great grandmother, Jennie Allen Turner was born free in Montgomery, Alabama in 1866. According to the 1880 Census, she was 13 years old, had attended school in the past year, spoke English and was literate.  I found one of my favorite books at her house “Lydia of the Pines.”

Fannie - my maternal grandmother

 Her daughter, my Grandmother Fannie Mae Turner Graham, was born in 1888 in Lowndes County, Alabama. She grew up in Montgomery. According to the 1900 census, she was 11 years old, at school, spoke English and was literate. My mother told me that when Fannie graduated from high school – State Normal, was offered a scholarship to Fisk but refused it and took a job in her uncles store, which she managed until she married in 1918. Also according to my mother, Fannie could quickly add long columns of numbers in her head.

Doris - my mother

My mother , Doris Graham Cleage,  was born in Detroit in 1923. She graduated from Eastern High School in Detroit and received a full scholarship to Wayne State  where she earned a BA with distinction as a Sociology major in June/1944. She returned to school in 1951 and earned teaching certification. In 1958 she became a masters candidate in education, completing her Master’s of Education Degree in the fall of 1958.  She took postmasters classes in education during a sabbatical in 1963. She also took evening classes  in 1968, when I was a senior at Wayne State.

My great grandmother, Emma Jones Turner (My grandmother Fannie’s paternal grandmother) was born about 1840 in South Carolina into slavery.  According to the 1880, 1900 and 1910 census she spoke English and was literate. I wish I knew more about her. I never heard a story about her. After my grandmother’s father was killed when she was 4 years old, her mother broke all ties with her husband’s family.

On My Paternal Side

Celia - my great grandmother

My great grandmother Celia Rice Cleage Sherman was my grandfather’s mother. She was born about 1855 into slavery in Virginia and brought to Tennessee as a child. She was about 10 when freedom came. In the 1880 census she could neither read nor write. By the 1930 census she spoke English and could read but could not write.  I wonder if my grandfather or his siblings taught her to read when they went to school.

My 2X great grandmother, Clara Green was born into slavery about 1829 in Kentucky. She was my grandmother Pearl Reed Cleage’s grandmother. In the 1880 census she was listed as about 55, spoke English and could not read or write.

Her daughter, my great grandmother Anna Allen Reed  was born  about 1849 in Kentucky into slavery.   According to the 1910 Census she spoke English but could not read or write. Anna’s four older children were illiterate while the four youngest were literate.

Pearl - my paternal grandmother

Her youngest daughter, my grandmother Pearl Reed Cleage was born in Lebanon, Kentucky in 1886. In the 1900 census she was 16 and where it says if you were or were not in school it says “Book 1” I don’t know what that means.  At any rate she was literate and spoke English. My Aunt Barbara told me she finished high school. I remember my grandparent’s house being full of books.

 

 

Going Out – 1937

Mary Virginia, Mershell and Doris Graham

This photograph was taken in the alley beside my  grandparent’s house on Theodore in Detroit in 1937.  My grandfather, Mershell, was 47.  He stands here with his daughters dressed for church. He worked at the Ford Rouge Plant, taking the street car to work everyday and saving the car for going to church and other weekend activities.  Mary Virginia, my mother’s older sister, was 17 and a senior at Eastern High School, on East Grand Blvd within walking distance of the house.  She graduated in June and in September went to Business College where she excelled in typing.  My mother was 14. She graduated from Barbour Intermediate School that year and joined her sister at Eastern High School.  Here are their report cards from that year.

Meanwhile, a lot going on in the world in 1937. The montage below contains photographs of some. The Memorial Day Massacre when Chicago police shot and beat union marchers who were organizing at Republic Steel Plant. Ten workers died. Amelia Earhart flew off and disappeared. The German Luftwaffe bombed Guernica, Spain during the Spanish Civil War in support of Franco and inspired the painting of the same name by Picasso .  The Japanese invaded China, killing and raping thousands. Roosevelt was re-elected. The Hobbit was published. Gone With the Wind won the Pulitzer prize for Margaret Mitchell. The first animated full length film, Snow White came out. An anti-lynching law was passed.  The Golden Gate Bridge was completed and opened with a day for pedestrians to walk across.  Buchenwald concentration camp was build. The Hindenburg exploded and burned. King George VI’s coronation took place.  Auto workers in Flint, Michigan won recognition for the UAW after a prolonged sit down strike.  The Mississippi and Ohio Rivers flooded leaving devastation and death behind.  Ethiopia was now in the hands of fascist Italy.

"Events of 1937"
What was going on in 1937
"sepia saturday 118"
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The Battle of Athens, Tennessee – 1946

Beatrice Cleage Johnson

In 1946 there was a pitched battle between the corrupt local government and WW2 veterans in Athens, Tennessee. My paternal grandfather was from Athens and I had cousins living there. My cousin, Beatrice Cleage Johnson, wrote a description of that night. It is pretty much the same story as told in the video except that the man shot in the back in the video is white and in the memoir he is black. The video is embedded after Beatrice’s memory of the event.

______________________

I will never forget the day this occurred.  The G.I.s had returned to McMinn County and were faced with the same political machine they had left and were determined to do something about it to rid McMinn County of machine politics.

Paul Cantrell was sheriff at this time and he loved two things: money and power.   He ruled McMinn County with an iron hand.  He was tied to the “Crump Machine,” which was the political boss of the State of Tennessee during the 30’s and 40’s.

Cantrell used deputies who had served prison terms for gambling and bootlegging.

Election day (August 1, 1946) in Athens was a war of “ballots and bullets.” We lived only a few blocks from the jail, where the votes were counted.  There were around nine thousand residents in Athens.  Of these, seven hundred Negroes played a small part in the election, but they formed a balance of power.  Most of the Negroes were Republican and received threats and repeated arrests from the Democrats.  The election of the sheriff was very important in McMinn County.  The Republicans tried to unseat the Democrats.  The pressure of a world war and the return of veterans from World War II had great influence on the politics of the county.

Election day in Athens was like an armed camp.  When voters came to the polls, the Cantrell Machine was staging demonstrations, strutting around with pistols and black jacks.  Deputy Sheriff Pat Mansfield, used thugs from other states as deputies.  The voting was heavy at the polls.  The GI’s were “poll watchers.”

Trouble started at the polls when Tom Gillespie, an elderly Negro, tried to vote and was slugged by the deputies.  He was shot in the back by another and was taken to the hospital.  G.I.  poll watchers were held prisoners at the polls.  No one in Athens slept that night.

"Athen's Jail"
The Athens Jail where the action took place.

The votes were being counted at the McMinn County Jail.  The G.I.’s stood at the door of the jail and demanded the ballot boxes and the release of the G.I.  prisoners.

The battle had begun.  The G.I.’s blasted the jail with dynamite and bullets.  The deputies were safe behind the walls of the solid brick jail.  Cars were dynamited, turned over and filled with bullets.  Picks and axes were also used to destroy cars.

The deputies finally surrendered at 3:30 in the morning with their hands up.  Both Paul Cantrell and Pat Mansfield were able to escape from the jail, leaving their deputies behind to face an angry mob.

McMinn County was without law and order from the night of the election until the afternoon of the next day.  I remember seeing men walking the streets with shotguns and rifles.  I will never forget the morning after when everybody went to town to see the ruins.  After this battle, the county soon settled down to ordinary life.  Freedom of speech and the right to vote their way was given back to the people, but August 1, 1946, will never be forgotten.

McMinn County became a Republican county; however, Democrats also held offices in both the county and city and still do.

—Beatrice Cleage Johnson

My Social Butterflies

My mother and my grandmother turned out to be more sociable in their youth than they were by the time I knew them. Here are a couple of photographs I found of them being social butterflies.

Progressive Twelve Club – Montgomery, Alabama – 1911

Some of the young women in the Progressive Twelve Club were relatives. My grandmother, Fannie Mae Turner wrote the song. Daisy Turner was her sister. Naomi Tulane and Jennette McCall were first cousins. Some of them are also in the photo below. The information on the back of the photo was stuck to the album page so I’m not sure who is who.  The purpose of the Progressive Twelve Club seemed to be sewing. I wish I could have heard them sing this song.

"Fannie and friends"
Fannie and friends at Holly Springs, MS

Progressive Twelve Club Song
Composed by F.M.T. 1911

 (1)

It was a bright September day
In dear old 1911;
our club of 12 was organized
An hour to needlework given
We hear the name “Progressive 12”,
As you’ve already seen;
the Kilarney rose adorns us
Our colors are pink and green.

(2)

Chorus
We’re loyal to our motto
with it we like to delve;
See…hear..speak no evil
as do the Progressive Twelve!
We’re loyal to our motto.
With it we like to delve
see no–hear no–speak no evil,
Oh you! Progressive Twelve!

(2)

On Thursdays to our meetings
In sunshine or in rain:
We go to greet our hostess,
and new inspiration gain.
We’ve carried a record high and fair
on which we look with pride
Not only in art but in music,
we’re noted far and wide.

Chorus

(3)

Mesdames Campbell and Dungee sing,
Washington and Miller too,
McCall and Tulane join in,
(while) Laurence and Wilson sew.
Mayberry makes the music
Jones and the Turners two
just work and think of our motto,
with hopeful hearts and true.

Chorus-

_____________________________________________

 The Social Sixteen – 1937 – Detroit, Michigan

My mother, Doris Graham is in the back row center with the flowered dress on.  Her sister, Mary V. is seated in the very front. First man in the back right is Frank “Buddy” Elkins who Mary V. would later marry. My father’s sister, Barbara Cleage is seated on the far right, front. I don’t know what exactly the Social Sixteen did but my Aunt Barbara told me that the only reason they had her in the club was because of her 4 older brothers.  The young woman at the other end of the couch was my mother’s best friend, Connie Stowers. We used to go visit her once a year. Which I still don’t understand because she lived across town, not in another city.

"The Social Sixteen"
The Social Sixteen – 1937

A Sunday Morning in 1953 merges with a day in 2011.

"St Marks, Detroit 1953"
After church on a Sunday afternoon in 1953. My mother, Pearl and me on steps. Henry with hand on hip.

In the fall of 2011,  my friend, Ben,  went down to old 12th Street in Detroit and took some photographs so that I could combine them with old photographs from 1953.  I finally got around to doing it.

"Close-up St. Marks"
Close-up of Sunday morning 1953 - my mother in the dark suit.

 

I Once Was a Brownie

When I was in the second grade I became a Brownie for a few months.  At the time my father had left St. Marks Presbyterian Church with 300 members and founded a new church, Central Congregational church. We met at Crossman School on Sunday and held all other church activities at 2254 Chicago Blvd. We also lived there.  It was a huge house.  That was my sister and my bedroom window on the upper right. Perfect casement windows for Peter Pan to fly through.

Central Congregational Parsonage at 2254 Chicago Blvd, Detroit.

The scout troops met in the basement recreation room where all of the youth activities were held. We wore the usual Brownie uniform and used the usual Brownie handbook.  I remember only one event, a jamboree held at Roosevelt Elementary School in a small gym, up a short flight of stairs above the 2nd floor. There were various stations set up and we went to different ones and did different things.  After several months I quit because I was bored. I wish I had a photo of me in my Brownie outfit, but I don’t.

At some point I was in the kitchen, which we shared with the church, while my mother was making dinner. One of the Brownie leaders came in to prepare a snack and asked where I’d been. I told her I wasn’t coming any more. That was my experience as a Brownie. One more thing I remember. A little girl at school, which was majority Jewish at that point, said there couldn’t be any brown Brownies. I don’t remember who she was telling this to but I told her, yes you could be because I was a brown Brownie.

That was the uniform I had on the right.
This was our scout handbook.

Input from Benjamin Smith, one of the scouts pictured below:

“Between Scouts and Youth Fellowship, I spent a lot of years in the parsonage basement. It was a different time. The side door was unlocked until your father went to bed.”

“I am the taller kid in the rear. All of us in that picture went through Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts and Explorers. Sadly, I am the only one still here.  John Curry, standing, left front. Ligens Moore, seated front. Norman Cassells, seated front right. Harrison Stewart, standing with rope, front right. Benjamin Smith rear left. Longworth Quinn rear left. Ligens had a pilot’s license at 12 yrs old. Longworth’s father published the Michigan Chronicle for many years.

“The girl scouts from left to right, are Andrea Keneau, Ann Page, unknown, Laura Mosley and Janice Mosley, deceased (and Laura’s older sister.)

I remember Longworth. In 1969-1971 we both worked with the Black Conscience Library. He was in Law School at the time.  Such a long, long time ago.

Times were different but I remember that someone tried to break into the house one night when my father wasn’t home. My mother rapped on the upstairs window with her ring – they were in the backyard trying to break in through the french doors of the conservatory – and they fled. Pearl and I were asleep. When she called the police they said she shouldn’t have knocked on the window, but she was so mad at the nerve of them.  They would have been so angry if they had gotten inside and found nothing worth stealing.

My youngest son joined the Boy scouts. He was an active member of a troop in Baldwin, Michigan for some years. They did all the scout things, camped out, went on hikes, earned badges, went to Jubilee at Mackinaw Island. He earned the Sharp Shooter, Swimming, Water Skiing and the Polar Bear badge to name a few.  To earn the Polar Bear Badge he had to camp out two nights in a row in weather below freezing, preparing all their meals at the campsite. As I remember it was in the 20 degree range.  My husband became the troop treasurer and continued in that capacity long after my son lost interest.  He also camped out in the 20 degree weather.  They were a pretty free-spirited group and never wore uniforms so I have no photos of him in scout gear. My older children were in 4-H clubs.

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My Mother in the News

My mother, Doris Graham, was in the news quite a bit during her years at Eastern High School in Detroit. Some were from the school paper, “The Indian”. Some were from “The Detroit Tribune”, a weekly black newspaper published by my mother’s cousins, James McCall and his wife Margaret.  I have other articles “starring” my mother but I am just using those from 1937 – 1940.  The others will appear later.  The articles were saved by my grandmother Fannie, Doris’ mother. The writing on them is hers.

"Doris Graham"
An article written my mother for the Eastern High School paper, “The Indian”.
My mother sitting alone on the right front of the picture. From Eastern High Yearbook, “The Arrow”.
The same photograph was used from her Junior High graduation article.
From “The Detroit Tribune.”
From the Eastern High paper “The Indian.”
1 Year Scholarships to Wayne State University – from one of the Detroit daily papers.
From “The Detroit Tribune.”