The room is cold.
The bed hard with
too few quilts.
More fumes than heat
come from the small
gas heater in the fireplace.
All around, the empty,
crumbling campus.
Inside the spirits swirl
in the cold air.
Several years ago my husband and I attended a conference in Selma Alabama by the Black Belt African American Genealogical & Historical Society. We stayed with our friend, Donald Stone on the campus of the Snow Hill Institute. It was once a thriving and bustling school but since the early 1970s when it was closed due to school integration, it’s been pretty much deserted. Stone, who is a descendent of the founder lives there. We stayed in the house next to the one he was in. It was so sad to see what was once an important educational institution, empty. Below is a short interview with Donald Stone. Above is a poem I wrote during the August Postcard Poetry month about the experience of spending the night there.
For more information about Snow Hill Normal and Industrial School:
Rev. Albert B. Cleage sitting on the steps of St. John’s Congregational Church around 1948.
Today is the International Day of Peace. My post includes a petition, “A Plea for Peace and for American Democracy” signed by my father, Rev. Albert B. Cleage (later known as Jaramogi Abebe Agyeman) in 1948. It was printed in The Springfield Union newspaper of Springfield Mass, April 1, 1948 edition.
I have included several pages from a document prepared for the USA Senate titled Report on The Communist “Peace” Offensive. This includes a list of people who signed the petition in Massachusetts and a few other states. This happened as the anti-communist era got underway, leading directly into the McCarthy era. You can read more about it here McCarthy Era. As always, click on any picture to enlarge it.
A song written and sung by Victor Jara ends this post. Víctor Jara was a Chilean teacher, theatre director, poet, singer-songwriter and political activist. He was also a member of the Communist Party of Chile. When the USA supported coup against the elected government of Chile took place on September 11, 1973, Victor Jara was taken to the football stadium where his hands were cut off, his guitar smashed and after taunts to play his guitar now, they shot him to death. To read more, see this link Bruce Springsteen Honors Chilean Folk Hero in Santiago.
My father, Jaramogi Abebe Agyeman/Albert B. Cleage about 1975.
I look a lot like my father did when he was my age. I turned 67 in August, 2013. Usually, I hope people will not notice much of what I am going to tell you here, but because it is the 3rd prompt in the “Story of Me, by Me”, I am going to share it. My hair, once sandy, now is grey, rapidly turning white. It’s not as thick as it once was, although it still covers my head pretty well. I have some age spots on hands and face. I’ve got one or two extra chins and 75 extra pounds. My hands are wrinkling up like they’ve been gathered. I’ve got dark circles under my eyes and dark eyelids. I’ve worn my hoop earrings 24/7 since I had my ears pierced at 15 and the earlobes are sagging a little, as is everything else. My eyes are still blue/grey and my brows are still arched. My eye lashes are almost missing. My complexion has a reddish hue.
Me
My feet have calcifications on the achilles tendons from long ago ignoring symptoms I should have paid attention to. Due to the feet going bad, I was unable to continue my fast 4 mile daily walks and put on weight, which I still haven’t gotten rid of. I used to be 5 ft 7 in, now I’m lucky if I’m still 5’6″. Allergies I never had before make my throat, eyes and ears itch when the air is bad or the pollen is high or a cat is around. I have a c-section scar, stretch marks, skin tags, several chin hairs and too many flat moles to count. Any childhood scars have faded away.
I’ve got high blood pressure, high Cholesterol and low thyroid. My eyes are getting worse. I can’t read without glasses and now need them for viewing performances or anything in the distance. My teeth are my own and I have all of them, minus one and the wisdoms. Many have fillings or crowns. I wear 1X or 2X or, even better, one size fits all. I prefer to go barefooted. Never wear heels and dress for comfort. That used to mean jeans and t-shirts, now it mostly means skirts and loose blouses. I’m about to move to only flowing garments. I prefer pictures where I am smiling.
This is another letter that my father wrote home to Detroit from Los Angeles when he was studying film in 1944. The photograph of my mother putting a hem in her skirt is also from August, 1944. I’m not sure if this picture was enclosed with this letter.
Putting a hem in a skirt. Aug 1944 in Sunshiny living. Los Angeles
231 South Hobart Blvd. #4 Los Angeles, 7, California August 18, 1944
Hi Folks:
Its Friday afternoon and I just got home from school, and I thought I’d drop you-all a note on the state of the nation. My “little” wife is still working. She gets off about five-thirty and comes home by way of the grocery store. Everything is about the same as usual. We’re still at large (out of the poor-house)…but I’ll have to find something to do pretty quick if we’re planning to stay that-a-way! I’m “dickering” with the Los Angeles Church Federation for a “position”. The “boss-Man” is out of town but I’ve filed an application and we’ll discuss the matter further when he gets back in September. It would be a pretty-good job if I can get it…sort of Negro field-worker for the Federation, co-ordinating the community work of the Negro churches… recruiting and training volunteers and organizing programs and clubs and groups and what-have-you. I’ve also applied to the Negro Community-Center, just-in-case.
On the way to school this morning a man picked me up in the safety-zone (big fine looking red-faced white man) in a Packard from here down town…and we got to bulling each other, and it turned out that he’s the Director of Audio-Visual Education for the Los Angeles Public Schools. Of course he was very happy to meet a real authority in the field…and invited me down to his office to see the experimental work the School System is doing in Moving-picture production. I’ll go down as soon as I can and see what them there “amateurs” are a trying to do.
School is going along fine…(no grades yet, of course!) Me and the Dean of the School of Religion are having a little long-distance controversy through his secretary. He thinks I ought to take half of my work in RELIGION…and I think I ought to take all (or almost all) in Cinema. He has an ace in the hole, however, in as much as I’m registered under the School of Religion and therefore pay only the special fees (Fellowships in religion make up the difference) …However, I’m not going to take half of my work in religion in as much as the religion courses will not contribute to what I’m trying to do!
SPECIAL NOTE TO LOUIS: If he makes me pay up the REGULAR REGISTRATION FEES I’ll have to wire you for a small loan of $100.00 or so until I can work long enough to pay it back. I think we can “arrange the difference of opinion” without such a drastic step… but with the good-white-folks you can never tell…especially preachers. My wife will divorce me if I have to borrow…but I aint no sentimentalist myself…and so I’m a warnin’ you.
How’s the farm going? How’s Mama getting along? I hear that “Racial-tension” in Detroit is a thing of the past! We’re getting ready to have a riot here…The FEPC has ordered the Street Railways to hire and upgrade Negroes immediately! Maybe I can get a “Riot-Movie”.
Here are some “snaps”- Did you get the ones we sent from San Francisco – I don’t think you ever mentioned them.
My cousin Dee Dee, sister Pearl, me, cousin Barbara.
This was one of the Saturdays my cousins, my sister and I spent at my maternal grandparents, Nanny and Poppy. We are eating lunch in their backyard.I can’t tell what we are eating but I do recognize the stripped plastic glasses we used when we weren’t using the metal glasses.
In the background is the Jordan’s house. It looks so much bigger than my grandparents house, which was big enough. They had a lot of children and then the mother died while the children were young and the house just went to pieces. It was already to pieces by the time we came along.
I found this front page of the Springfield Republican for August 30, 1946 – the day I was born – on Genealogy Bank. Click on it to enlarge. You can read my birth story here – Friday’s Child is Loving and Giving.
click to enlarge.
12 Responses to Front Page News – The Day I Was Born
Great minds think alike. I downloaded the front page of the Sydney Morning Herald for the day I was born just this week but I posted it on my Book of Me private blog. I wasn’t as brave as you – my age is no secret but I couldn’t bring myself to share publicly.
Can’t wait to see those later prompts. But it does give me a chance to do other things in between, either related to the Story of Me or all that other stuff I need to do!
I gave it a try and Genealogy Bank doesn’t have any newspapers in my area in my birth year, let alone birth date! Perhaps in the future… Such a great idea!
Awww. Maybe there’s a front page from somewhere nearby? Or for the week you were born? I have lived places that only had a weekly paper and didn’t have any world news, just local things.
I checked the whole state for the whole year. I’m sure that as Genealogy Bank adds papers, one will pop up. Oh, I should check for my hubbs and son though!
Nope. Not for hubbs and son either. Well darn! Guess I could do a national paper like the NY Times or something though. That would give a good idea of world events…
I am the first daughter, born during a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.
I was born at Mercy Hospital in Springfield, Massachusetts, August 30, 1946. My parents arrived there the fall of 1945 when my father was chosen as Pastor of St. John’s Congregational Church. My mother was 23 and my father was 33. Although I was one of the people present in the delivery room, I’ve had to rely on the memories my mother shared with me. My mother was given a wiff of ether as I crowned so she did not see me born. I had a head full of dark hair, enough that a nurse pulled it up into a little pony tail and tied a ribbon around it. The nurse told my mother that all of the dark hair was going to come out and I would have blond hair. She was right. All of that fell out and I had a small amount of blond hair. It would be years before there was enough to pull up in a ribbon. My eyes were blue/gray.My mother said that she was unable to breast feed me because she had no milk. I always felt very sad about this, not so much for me, but because I think that if I could have gone back in time with what I learned about nursing when my own babies were born, I could have helped her make a go of it. After ten days in the hospital, we went home. A member of the church, Reginald Funn, drove us to the parsonage because my parents didn’t have a car until I was 8 years old. Looking at my baby book, there were many visitors and gifts from friends, family and neighbors.
Reginald Funn and car.
Both of my grandmothers came from Detroit to help out. I was the first grandchild on my father’s side and the second on my mother’s side. My maternal grandmother, Fannie Graham, had a cold so she was regulated to washing clothes and cooking and other duties that kept her away from me so I would not catch her cold. My Grandmother Pearl Cleage had the care of me. My mother said that her pediatrician told her not to give me any water because it would make me drink less milk. Below is a letter my Grandmother Pearl wrote home about it below. Poor baby me.
In this letter, Toddy was my father’s family nickname. Louis was his MD brother. Barbara is my father’s oldest sister, left in charge while her mother was in Springfield.
210 King St Springfield Mass Monday 23/46
Dear Barbara,
How are you? How are Gladys and Daddy and the boys?
We have had atime with this baby, the first nights and all last week Toddy and I were up allnighteachnight! She cried and cried and screamed until she would be exhausted and so was I! Last night and today, so far, she has slept a lot better. Before we talked with Louis I’ve put her feedings 3 hours apart, justlastnight because she acted like she would burst open, with crying. This a.m. we got the Bio Lac and are giving her water regularly too and she is acting 100% better!
When I would have given her water before, they told me her stomach would not hold it and food and had me stop her feeding at about 3 ounces, for fear she couldn’t hold it all, not to feed her too much, and Kris just starving to pieces! I did as they told me until I said I was going to talk to Louis because I had never seen a baby eat and be dry and then just act like she was starving to death and never sleep!
***************
I regret that nobody took any photographs of little me with either of my grandmothers.
Two excerpts from a letter my father wrote home in January. Actually, I did look like him, and more and more so as the years passed until now, if he were still here, we could pass as twins.
January 1, 1947
“…Doris and Kris welcomed in the New Year in their own inimitable way…at home. They got out only once during the holiday…on Christmas day we went to a Turkey dinner at the Funns. We had a tree “for Kris (and Doris) which Kris ignored…disdainfully. Our double-octet went out caroling to the hospital Christmas eve (yes Louis, for the white folks) and came back by and sang carols for us afterwards. Kris listened to them with her usual disdain…and they all agreed that “she is the most sophisticated looking baby they had ever seen!”
“…. She loves to play from 2 until 4 a.m. She had the sniffles for part of one day…but seems to have so far avoided a serious cold…even with us and the rest of Springfield down with Flu, Grip and everything else… She weigh 11:4 (last week) She’s learned to yell or scream or something…and will scream at you for hours if you’ll scream back (Just like M-V) and seems to love it…then after an hour or so…her screaming will shift into a wild crying…and then she must be picked up and played with for several more hours…SHE LOVES ATTENTION…No, mama, we do not let her cry…and her navel seems to be doing O.K. AND SHE DOES NOT LOOK LIKE ME! All reports not withstanding!”
March 18, 1947 – from a letter to my father’s sister, Anna by my mother.
“Kris (with her 2 teeth) says anytime for you all laughing at her bald head – I fear it’ll be covered all too soon with first one thing and then another.”
__________________
March 31, 1947 – From a letter to the Cleage’s from a friend of my parents in Springfield
“Last night at home, Kris had quite a time with her teeth and I think Doris was quite anxious. Reverend Cleage had to leave for Loring before Kris really let go so he didn’t know how much the baby suffered. I know it won’t last long, tho’ for mother says some teeth give more pain than others, but it is soon over with.”
__________________
From an April 7, 1947 letter my father sister Gladys wrote home while visiting Springfield.
“Kris is no good- but cute! Head’s not like the picture – kids! I definitely have no way with babies – I have truly lived!”
________________________
June 29, 1947 (from a letter by my father’s visiting sister, Anna)
“… Doris went to a reception today and I watched Kris. I tricked her, I played some soft music on the radio and waltzed around the room with her a few times, then eased into a rocking chair and first thing she knew she was asleep – so I put her in her crib and the next thing she knew Doris was home waking her to feed her.”
_______________________
I seem to have done fine, as you can see below, with my dirty bare feet I am sitting on the porch with my father’s father and my parents. I started walking at 9 months and my first words were – “Bow wow.” soon followed by “Some manners if you please!” My mother said that people didn’t usually understand what I was saying when I came out with that.
My paternal grandfather, Dr. Albert B. Cleage Sr. sitting on the railing. My mother, Doris Graham Cleage, holding me. My father Rev. Albert B. Cleage Jr. Summer of 1947 on the back porch of the house on King street.
You can read the front page of the Springfield Republican for the day I was born here.
Kris, Doris and Pearl. Lake Idlewild, Michigan. 1956.
The summer of 1956, my mother would sometimes row over to the “island”, which was downtown Idlewild, not a real island, although you did have to go over a bridge or a drainage pipe to get there. At that time, Idlewild was booming, a place for black people to go in segregated America and forget about all that for awhile. Big name acts preformed at the Flamingo Club and there was a skating rink in the club house. But when we rowed over in the morning, we were going to get the paper or milk or something else mundane.
Sometimes my sister Pearl and I would take our savings and shop at Lee-Jon’s or at Ma Riddle’s Log Cabin. At Lee-John’s we bought tiny bears with movable limbs, about 3 inches tall. At Ma Riddle’s, we mainly looked while she tried to sell us salt and pepper
Idlewild is located at the red A
shakers that looked like picnic tables. Her store was a real log cabin. I don’t remember going inside because it was so small that the front was a shutter she raised and lowered and you looked at the merchandise right there.
I wonder why we weren’t wearing life jackets in the photo above. We certainly couldn’t swim at the time. There were life jackets because I remember playing in the water and wearing them. The lake was 4 miles around and there were spots, my Uncle Henry used to say, where the bottom had never been found.
I am the first daughter, born during a thunderstorm in the middle of the night.
I am the one walking to school whistling when the woman turns around and says “A whistling girl and a crowing hen always come to a no good end.”
I am one of the cousins squashed into the back seat singing on the way to and from our grandparents.
I am the six year old sick with pneumonia, upstairs in bed for months.
I’m the 12 year old elementary school graduate, out of school early and throwing snowballs with my friends.
I’m the double promoted 7th grader without friends who knows how many minutes left in each school day.
I’m the high school student longing for escape.
I’m the girl standing on the sidelines at Youth Fellowship dances.
I’m 19 and hopelessly in love.
I am 20 with a broken heart.
I’m the printmaker using found zinc scraps for my pieces.
I’m 23, alone and in labor with my first child, in a large dark house, waiting.
I’m a woman, carrying, laboring, birthing and nursing.
I’m the city girl milking goats, chopping wood and plucking chickens.
I’m the 35 year old mother of 5 dancing around the kitchen with my young son.
I’m the 45 year old mother of 6 walking four fast miles around the lake, ignoring my aching achilles tendons.
I’m the granma with bad feet making my way around the track.
I’m the child and the woman moving from place to place.
I’m a woman who has been with this man forty eight years.
I’m a gardener without a garden, a water woman without water and a sewer who rarely sews.
I’m an artist and a writer and a teacher.
I’m a feeler trying to be invisible.
I’m the one the ancestors come through.
I’m reading the paper with my mother. 1962, Old Plank Road. Near Wixom, MI.
This is a small undated Polaroid snap shot. I dated it by looking at other photos from that year that were dated. It was probably taken in the summer or early fall. I was 16 and would be a high school sophomore in the fall of that year.
What were we reading about? I decided to look up what happened during 1962. It was an eventful year. Lot’s of above ground nuclear tests; countries in Africa and the West Indies gaining their freedom; Civil Rights demonstrations in Albany, GA; the Berlin wall; Thalidomide; the Cuban missile crisis and George Wallace winning the governorship of Alabama are a few stories we could have been reading.
In February of 2013 I did post about reading the newspaper on a Sunday morning Reading The Newspaper – 1962. Appears my mother and I did a lot of tandem newspaper reading.
Snow Hill Alabama
Several years ago my husband and I attended a conference in Selma Alabama by the Black Belt African American Genealogical & Historical Society. We stayed with our friend, Donald Stone on the campus of the Snow Hill Institute. It was once a thriving and bustling school but since the early 1970s when it was closed due to school integration, it’s been pretty much deserted. Stone, who is a descendent of the founder lives there. We stayed in the house next to the one he was in. It was so sad to see what was once an important educational institution, empty. Below is a short interview with Donald Stone. Above is a poem I wrote during the August Postcard Poetry month about the experience of spending the night there.
Great minds think alike. I downloaded the front page of the Sydney Morning Herald for the day I was born just this week but I posted it on my Book of Me private blog. I wasn’t as brave as you – my age is no secret but I couldn’t bring myself to share publicly.
I figure I’m still the same age, if I tell or not. Unless I can find that time machine LOL.
Where is that flux capacitor when you need it?
Exactly!
That is great Kristin. You will enjoy one of the later prompts……
Can’t wait to see those later prompts. But it does give me a chance to do other things in between, either related to the Story of Me or all that other stuff I need to do!
What is interesting is seeing where the prompt takes the discussion within the Facebook group and where it leads individual participants.
I gave it a try and Genealogy Bank doesn’t have any newspapers in my area in my birth year, let alone birth date!
Perhaps in the future… 
Such a great idea!
Awww. Maybe there’s a front page from somewhere nearby? Or for the week you were born? I have lived places that only had a weekly paper and didn’t have any world news, just local things.
I checked the whole state for the whole year. I’m sure that as Genealogy Bank adds papers, one will pop up.
Oh, I should check for my hubbs and son though! 
Nope. Not for hubbs and son either. Well darn! Guess I could do a national paper like the NY Times or something though. That would give a good idea of world events…