Paul Ortiz: Mrs. Brown, could you tell me where you were born and something about the area that you grew up in? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Well, I was born in Greeneville, Tennessee. That's East Tennessee, a small town. 

Paul Ortiz: And what did your parents do? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: My father was a railroad man. He worked on the railroad, but my mother didn't work. She stayed home and took care of the children and the house. 

Paul Ortiz: What are your earliest childhood memories in Greeneville? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: My earliest childhood memories in Greeneville. Well, I remember there was a large family. My mother had 12 children and she stayed home with us. I remember that so well. And of course, I went to elementary school there, we all did, and to high school there. And we didn't live in well, the real country. We lived on the edge of town. And Daddy had enough land to have gardens, and was very supportive of the family. So he raised crops throughout the year. I remember that so well. He raised vegetables and we had fruit trees and whatnot, and that was very good. I remember those days. And there was no school buses for us. We all walked to school about two miles— Well, about a mile and a half, I guess, to school every day. And we walked to school and back school. We had no school buses. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Well, they were— I don't know of anything else, right now just to remember. We had good times, and my brothers and sisters, they all worked, but they worked in private homes as we grew up. 

Paul Ortiz: But that would've been the 1930s, primarily? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Yes, that was in the thirties. Back in the thirties. 

Paul Ortiz: How was the area in terms of community? Would you say that there was a neighborhood that you grew up in, or was it more isolated? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Well, it was a community, but we lived in a predominantly White neighborhood, but we were all close. It was a close knitted community. And like I said, Daddy had land for gardening, where he raised vegetables and it was a very close, well thought community. And we got along well in our community, even though it was a segregated community. But we all got along well, and if there was anything to share, we shared. And if we needed help, all of the neighbors were always willing to help. And I don't know that we ever needed any. But they were all friendly enough, we were close enough to ask for help. And so if they needed help, they would come to us. And we didn't have any, what you might say, racial problems, but we knew that we went our way and the Whites went their way. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And like I said, the schools were segregated in those days. And I guess that's why you saw— All the Blacks walked to school. And there may have been a few buses for Whites that went to their school, but wherever the Blacks lived they were— We lived on this end of town and our school was on the other end of town. And of course there were some Blacks lived— Well, most of the Blacks lived closer to school than we did. They were few other Black families that lived a mile from school or a mile and a half, and we all walked. And it was an enjoyable time. And walking, getting together and getting to know each other better and having good times together. Those were some of the memorable things that I remember. 

Paul Ortiz: Were there institutions or organizations in the community, that brought people together during that time? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: The only organizations I remember in this community that I came up, was a church. There were churches, and those were the only that I can remember. And you'd go to church, you'd go to church activities, and those were the highlights of what you did. You'd go to school, you'd go to work, you'd go to church, and that's it. 

Paul Ortiz: Which church did your family attend? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: We were Presbyterians. I was brought up in the Presbyterian church. My mother was a Methodist, but Daddy was a Presbyterian, so all the children were Presbyterians. 

Paul Ortiz: And was there one Presbyterian church in town? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: There was one Black Presbyterian church in town and two White Presbyterian churches. 

Paul Ortiz: And what was the name of the Black Presbyterian Church? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Oh, Tabernacle Presbyterian Church. 

Paul Ortiz: And was that on the side of the town that you lived in, or on the other side of town? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: I guess, well, it was more or less in the middle of the side of town where I was. Yeah, it was in the middle side of town. That's the best I can say it. 

Paul Ortiz: In geographical terms, did you grow up on the West side, or the East side? Was the town divided up like that? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Yes, I think it was, because we lived on North Main Street. 

Paul Ortiz: Now, you mentioned segregation earlier. What were the main signs and symbols of segregation? You mentioned that the Whites went their way, the Blacks went their way. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: You really want to know? 

Paul Ortiz: Yeah. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Okay. Well, yes, there were always signs. Now, you could walk down the street on any side you wanted to. Or you could go any place— Well, you could go basically any place you wanted to. But I remember very well in those days, even in town, there would be two faucets that you could drink water from, and one would have Black— No, it wouldn't have, it'd have Colored and the other would have White. Well, we didn't use so much the terms Black then, but being Colored, that was the term that was used. Being Colored, you drink out of the Colored fountain and the Whites drink out of the White fountain. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And there were times, now, I never had this to happen to me, but I had seen it happen: if Blacks were caught drinking out of the White fountain, there would always be somebody to say, "That's not your fountain to drink out of. That's your fountain. You drink out of the Colored fountain." Now, I had seen that happen, and there were other places in town that they would have these— What do you call them? Fountains would be in different sections. And even in the courthouse, I remember in the courthouse, there's a big courthouse there, they'd have a fountain there, one for Colored, one for White. Same thing with the restroom. Now this is funny, with the restrooms, in some sections they'd have Colored and they'd have White. And there were places where they'd have Colored, and then there was another section, they'd have women and men. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Now you knew that the women and men was for White. There was only one restroom, Colored. That was yours, Colored. I ran into a situation like that when I came to Tuskegee, when I came to Alabama, rather. But those were some of the things, and you'd go in a section, if there was a town meeting, I guess you'd call it town meeting, where they would have it at the courthouse. You may not see a sign that said Colored, but you would be pointed, this is the section where you go, this is where you sit. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And the Whites are over here. But in a lot of instances, the Black and Whites were together, because in this section of Tennessee, there were very few Blacks, very few Blacks. And if you mixed in a meeting or something, there would be nothing said. Because there's so few of us here, so few Blacks, it didn't make any difference really. It didn't make any difference. But even in the stores, in the stores, oh, there was some of the most degrading things that you would see. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: If you'd go in the store to buy something— Now, this didn't happen in all the stores, but I do remember in some of them, you'd go in and you would be looking at something to buy, and there'd be a clerk there. They used to wait on you then, back in those days to see what you're going to buy. And if there were a White person to come up behind you or beside you, they would always wait on the White person first. And then when they waited on them, if another White person come up, they'd wait on them. And you'd be standing there, waiting to be waited on, until there would be no White people there. Then they'd wait on you. I thought that was rather degrading. But people resented that, in the places where this happened. And when it did happen, a lot of time, Blacks would walk out, they would just walk out. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Now, this was before the 1960s, they would walk out, and I have been with a group who had done the same thing, two or three. You'd go in the store to get something, and while you are there waiting to be waited on, and then they'd come a couple of Whites up behind you or beside you, they'd look right over you and say, "May I help you?" Or, "What can I do for you?" And we walked out. I've been with groups that did that, but there was no incidents or something. You just did it, you just did it. 

Paul Ortiz: Now you do this in department stores? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Department stores, grocery stores, five-and-ten— We'd call them five-and-ten cents stores then. That was before Kmart and all those came about. Yeah, they did it. But I have seen other people walk out. But then the next day, you'd come back you'd get what you were going to get. And then the same thing, my daddy had worked on the railroad and he could get prices to go anywhere over the southern, for the children. And of course the trains were segregated in those days too. And you'd get on— We call them cars, you'd get in the cars, where the Colored folks sat. That's where you sit. And I don't care how crowded that car become, that's where you stayed, you didn't go to another section. Even though there'd be plenty of vacant seats in the other section, in other cars on the train. You didn't go in those sections. You just didn't. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And the same thing with the bus. Now, I rode the bus Tennessee Coach Line, for three years, going back and forth to work. And you were taught this thing indirectly. And when there's nobody to tell you anything any different, you don't know any different. I'd get on the bus, I'd go straight to the back, to the back seat, or the next to the back seat, because you didn't have too many people riding the bus at that particular time that I rode it, in the morning and in the afternoon. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: But there would be plenty seats in between and up front. So I remember one time, I wasn't going to work, I was going to visit my sister in Bristol, Tennessee. And I got on the bus that morning, and I didn't sit on the back seat. I sat about three seats from the back. And there may have been one Black on the bus other than me, I don't know. But I sat about three seats from the back and the bus was filling up with Whites. And I never will forget, this lady got on the bus and she had two kids. Now, I think there was one other Black person on that bus, but I wasn't sitting on the back seat at that time. I was sitting about three seats up from the back. And she would not sit behind me. She would not sit behind me. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: She would not sit beside me. She stood up and the driver came to me and asked me, would I please go to the backseat and let this lady sit with her children. And I did. I mean to me, to tell you the truth, at that particular time, it didn't matter to me. But it was just the idea, that she had these two little raunchy children and she didn't want to sit beside me, or behind me. So he asked me to move, and I moved. And she got off the bus. She got off the bus in Johnson City, Tennessee. And now the driver, I guess I'm sure he was doing his job, he came to me and told me if I would like to move up closer to the front, I could. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And I think I told him, I said, "That's all right. I'll sit right here." And because there were very, very few on the bus then. It had unloaded between Greeneville and Johnson City. And there was plenty seats up front. But I didn't, I told him that was all right. And I sat there until I got to Bristol. But I remember that incident. But I remember times after that, that I have sat in other places on the bus and nobody said anything. The driver didn't say anything. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Only that one particular time. We had City Bus, what am I talking about? This is back in the forties. We called it a City Bus in Greeneville. And it would run from one end of town to the other. And I remember when I came in from work, off of the Tennessee Coach bus. I got on the City Bus, and I think this was next to the backseat of the City Bus. And as the bus made its round, filled up with Whites. And do you know, even there in Greeneville, they did not sit beside me and they would not sit behind me. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And I didn't move that time. Of course, the driver didn't even ask me to move. I think the driver at that time, he felt like, "Well, if you want to sit down, you sit down. If you don't, that's all right." I mean, I think he was just that kind of a fella. He wouldn't have said anything. But I remember that. And I remember telling my daddy about that, and Daddy said, "Well, you just remember that you have a right to sit any place on that bus, as anybody else." And he said, "They expect you to go to the back." That's the way he said, "They expect you to go to the back, but you have a right to sit anywhere on that bus that you want to." And that's all Daddy ever said to me about that. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And my brother rode the bus back in— Well, he rode it quite a bit, when his car wasn't worth running and he would sit on the bus anywhere he wanted to. And he didn't have any incidents. But there could have been because we'd have some real ugly people get on that bus. 

Paul Ortiz: Oh, really? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And you would hear the conversations that they would use. 

Paul Ortiz: What kinds of things were they saying? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Shall I say it? You asked me for it. "I hate to get on this bus and sit beside them niggers. Them niggers don't have no business riding this bus, no way." Whatever Blacks was on there, they didn't make any remarks one way or the other. Or they'd make the remarks. "I don't like to sit with them niggers, because they stink. I don't like to sit with them dirty niggers." The people getting on that bus, you could see how they would be looking and how they would be smelling. And I don't care how well you dress, I don't care where you're going. You could be coming from church or you could be going someplace else. But they had a place there in Greeneville. Greeneville was a tobacco country. They had a place called a stemmer. You don't know anything about that, do you? 

Paul Ortiz: A factory? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Yes, tobacco stemmer. Okay. Oh, you know? All right then. So we had quite a few Blacks to work in there. But like I said, Greeneville is a small town of Blacks and it was predominantly White that worked in there. And you could tell anybody that worked in the stemmer because you smelled that tobacco, by the time they'd get 10 feet to you. So this city bus that I'm speaking of that made its round in the afternoon. Most of those people were coming from the stemmery, factory. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And you can imagine how they'd be smelling. Now, they didn't have any air conditioning in those stemmeries back in those days. All they could do was raise the windows, didn't even have fans, raise windows. And they wouldn't want to sit beside you. Now you'd have a few, but I'm going to tell you, these were low class Whites, that would get on that bus, that worked at the stemmery and would get on that bus. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And they didn't want to sit beside you. But once they get off that bus, you didn't have no incidents or anything. If you're going the same way, you go the same way. You stood up on the bus because it was the thing for you to do, it was the thing for us to do. But you would still hear these ugly remarks about, "Where did that nigger go?" Or, "Why did he come here and sit beside me?" Or, "Why did you sit beside that nigger? That sort of thing, that went on all the time. And you got to the place, sometimes you'd ignore it and then you would say, "Hey, the heck with it." Daddy always told us that, "Regardless as to what people say or do to you, you just remember that you are just as good as anybody else. You have the same rights as anybody else." 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And he said, "I know we don't exercise them as such, but you do have the same rights as anybody else." And I think that always stuck with us, even though we did have those racial incidents. But Daddy always felt that way. And he knew too. I mean, he was well thought of. He was a very soft-spoken man and both White and Blacks respected him. He was very well respected, but it was still a segregated town. And I remember, they had drugstores in those days. And they would have a place where you could sit down, at a table and have a cold drink. And I think in some instances, in some of them, they had sandwiches, but Blacks didn't go in there and sit down and have a cold drink. You just didn't, because it was segregated and you knew that you didn't do it. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And if you did, I have known some to go in there and sit down and they would be asked to leave. And if you'd go in and get a cold drink, you'd go outside and drink it. You didn't sit down at the counter, or at a table and drink it. You went outside and drink it. And I worked for a lady, I used to babysit a lot. And I went in a place with her, a White lady, and she had three children. We all sat down at the same table. I will tell you the truth, I was a little reluctant. And we went in, and she told me to come on and sit down, then we're going to get some cold drinks. And I did. And we sat there and we drank, then we got up and we left. But she was well-to-do lady. So me being with her, that was all right. And those are some of the things that I remember. And you look back at just the attitude of the way some people were treated. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: I remember once, when I first started teaching, I went to Nashville to a teacher's meeting. Now, here again, you remember, this was a Tennessee Coach line I was going on. And here again, we sat on the backseat, my sister and I. And the bus stopped for a rest stop. And I think he said he'd be there about 10 minutes, for anybody needed to use a restroom or relax a few minutes, or if they wanted to get a sandwich or something. So there's this big bus station, a lot of people got off and they said they were going to get a sandwich. My sister and I got off, and we went to the back. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: We mentioned something about getting a sandwich, and they said, "You have to go to the back." So we went to the back door, went in the kitchen area, where they made the sandwiches and all, got us a sandwich and we went outside, sat out there and ate it. And you just remember those kinds of incidents. And I think one of the most things that I remembered in growing up, if we'd go from one town to the other, would be these restrooms, whereas they would have men and women. And then they'd have one restroom there for Colored. And you wouldn't have too many Whites maybe going in and use them. And sometimes, you would have a group of Blacks from different areas that would come in, using one restroom, male and female. And to me that was kind of degrading, to see two restrooms there, and one. I thought that was kind of degrading. 

Paul Ortiz: Would there be a lock on the door—? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Sometimes. 

Paul Ortiz: So that you could have male and female privacy in that Colored—? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: No. Oh, you're talking about in the Colored? 

Paul Ortiz: Yeah. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: No. You just had a stool and a wash basin, about that big. The whole restroom would be about as big as this table. 

Paul Ortiz: So men could just walk in? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Oh, yes. I see what you're saying. When you go in, could you lock it? 

Paul Ortiz: Yeah. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Yeah, right. Yeah, you could do that. 

Paul Ortiz: But there was just one? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Mm-hmm. And then another thing, if you'd go into a bus station, or train station, you'd have these segregated areas. It would be Colored, White. Colored sits over here, White sits over here. Now, the Colored space would be about as big as this. And you'd have all this space over here for Whites. Now, I don't care how crowded this got, you still packed in this one little Colored room, and all of this space over here could be scattered out, maybe two or three people over there. But you didn't go over there. That's just the way it was. And of course now, this integration thing came about in '60, but that thing was coming a long time, because there were a lot of people who got tired of this. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: As people began to come along and people began to grow up, they got tired of seeing this, seeing people, seeing all of this vacancy over here. And then you got this little place over here for Colored. And the same thing was in the theater. The theater, we had this little place here for Colored, and then you would have two sections for Whites. I'm not saying a balcony, but there would be two sections. There would be one whole section here. And you go downstairs and there's another whole section here for Whites. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And you got this little bit of balcony up here for Colored. And sometimes, when you'd get all the Coloreds together, if they wanted to go to a movie, the movie would be packed. And I don't care how packed it was, and I have seen so many Black people at a movie, until they'd have to turn some of them away, because they didn't have enough seats for them. But at the same time, there would be vacancies down here, where Whites are, but you couldn't go down there and sit. But up here, they'd turn you away, because they didn't have any seats for you. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And then I've seen it so packed, people would be sitting on the steps. If they really wanted to see a movie in the Black area, that's the only place you saw it, down here, totally White. And sometimes, I can't really— Well, it was just the understanding that Black, you not supposed to be down there. But in a lot of instances, like I said, there were so few Blacks. And some things you'd go to, if Blacks were put in with Whites, you wouldn't even know they were there. There were so few of them, in some instances. But it was still known that they were segregated and they did not want the Blacks here. And you didn't go there. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And there were times, like I said, that you would find Blacks gradually— they're just getting tired of this sort of thing. And they're getting on these buses and they're going to sit where they want to sit. And it would be kind of funny, because we always have some rowdy people, Black and White. And when the rowdy people get on this bus and they going to sit where they want to sit, and the Whites not going to say nothing to them. If they want to sit, they will sit. And it was a funny thing, you'd get some of these Blacks on the bus and you'd have one on this seat, and you'd skip a seat, and you'd have one on this seat and you'd skip a seat, and one on this seat, with that sort of thing. And now you had some Whites, Whites didn't care, because as kids and growing up, where I lived, we'd play with White kids all the time. They would either stand or they'd sit by these Blacks, when they'd be kind of scattered on the bus. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And sometimes, you'd find those who really didn't mind sitting beside the Blacks. And it kind of seemed like as to whether or not they're going to see their friends, if they had friends on that bus, they didn't want their friends to know that you was sitting beside a Black and they wouldn't sit beside them. It's kind of funny when you look back at things like that, to see how things happened. 

Paul Ortiz: Yeah. Now you mentioned that early on, in your early childhood, segregation was something that was indirectly learned. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: It was taught. 

Paul Ortiz: It was taught. Now who would teach it? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: No, there's no teacher as such. I guess you would say it's invisibly taught. Because when you start out, you had had this Black school here, and you had the White schools, you know the Blacks are going to this school. And the Whites know that they're going to this school. So they know. I mean, that's teaching segregation right there. This is what I mean, it's indirectly taught. And the same thing with the churches. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Now we had, I know there was two Methodist Black churches, one Presbyterian, I think two Baptist churches, and perhaps there were two other churches. I don't know what you'd call them. We call them Holiness churches, but they were Black churches. But you'd have about three, no, like I said, there was two White Presbyterian churches and there were about three White Methodist churches. And there were, oh, I'm sure about three or four White Baptist churches. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And I know there was one White Catholic Church. But anyway, those were Whites and Blacks just didn't go to them. They just didn't. And like I said, from generation to generation, you just didn't go there. Same thing with the school. You just didn't go, you didn't even try, until folks began to realize that— You see, when education came about, rather than to integrate these schools, they'd have a separate but equal. I don't know if you've heard that term or not. They were never equal. And that's what pushed people into integration, because these schools were never equal. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And I think that's what pushed a lot of Blacks in going to these White schools. They'd go to these White schools, because they knew that the Whites had everything they needed, including books and everything else. They knew that, Blacks knew that. Now, I can't say that for all the schools, because some of the White schools, they suffered too. They suffered too. But Blacks began to realize that there was nothing being put over here for Blacks, just enough to say you're separate but equal. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And that pushed a lot of, I think, a lot of Blacks, or some Blacks into believing, they just want to go over here and see what you've got, that we don't have. And I think that that was a part of segregation coming about. It's strange to me how the state, or the county, or the Board of Education, could see it's costing them double to have segregation, when you could have it all in one place and you got to have two of them, which means that you're going to cut something over here, and put it over here anyway, but that's costing you double. And one thing that I liked about East Tennessee, I found this out. I started teaching and I found out that the salaries were the same according to your education. There was no difference in Black and White salary. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: But I learned less in East Tennessee. But I learned in some other sections there was a difference in the salary. And I think there was a difference in other work, that some Blacks may have been done, according to Whites. Blacks never got paid equal as Whites. But in teaching they did, in East Tennessee. And that's why I can't understand why they would have this. It's kind of hard believe that they would have— Why you got two schools over here? You got two, one here, one here. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And sometimes you'd have two Whites over here, when you would take this handful of Blacks and put them over here. And that would eliminate that. They didn't see it like that. The only thing that I can think was equal, was the salary. You got paid the same according to your education. And when the kids live in a Black community and all of your associates are Black, your friends are Black, you go to the same school as Black, in a lot of instances, you don't even know what this segregation thing is, because you never, you never, you might say cross the line over here. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: But like I said, in some instances where we lived, I played with White kids. My brothers played with White kids, and we were the only Blacks right there. And we never had any incidents. We'd scribble and fuss, but no racial incidents. They got along well, but yet still some of these same people worked in these stemmer factories, and other factories, there's a chair factory there. And other tobacco warehouses where Whites worked. Now Blacks worked in that stemmery factory too. Some Blacks did. And they got along all right, but it was still segregated. You'd find the Blacks working here and the Whites working here. And that's just the way it was. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: In one instances, well, in a lot of instances you'd find, like I said, the Blacks won't know what's happening over here. You found these Whites more curious in some instances, than the Blacks, because they want to know what they doing over there. And just a matter of wanting to know. And I think that's one reason that people really pushed for segregation, because it's not so much all of this mixing, that has nothing to do with it. It's just that we want to see what you're doing, and we want to be able to do it, if we want to. That's all. Same thing with the Whites, with the Blacks. And I can tell you another thing that we did, when I was small coming up. We celebrated the 8th of August as Emancipation Day in East Tennessee. And that was a big celebration, time for Blacks. 

Paul Ortiz: Really? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And you find some Whites celebrating the 8th of August too, because they had a good time with us, just like we did. And that was one of the biggest events that I remember. It was a great time. Blacks from throughout this whole county would get together for celebrations. And it would be picnics and perhaps ball games and other games that would play. And then they would have gifts for different one. They'd have gifts for maybe the oldest person there, or the family with the most children. And my mother always got that, because she always had the most children. And then there would be gifts for people who came from different places. And it was just an enjoyable time. But I don't— 

Paul Ortiz: Do you know who organized that? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Churches. 

Paul Ortiz: Churches? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Churches. Most of the organizations that you found, came about what was done was churches. And churches would have picnics, sometimes throughout the summer, different churches would. And of course, everybody would be invited to go. They'd have cars or trucks, but you'd have to pay to go. And that was interesting. And they would take trips. But here again, like I said, they'd be organized, back in those days, by the churches. Now as I grew up and was leaving Greeneville, they formed what was known as a civic organization. And it was mostly among the Black women. They had a civics organization. And they had done quite a bit in recreation, because there was no recreation there for Blacks. And then they began to have different things for Blacks. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: But like I said, that's when I grew up. And I remember when I was small, there was a golf course. Well, this is way over in the town, although it was all there in Greeneville. And there was a golf course, I didn't even know what golf was. And there was a swimming pool, a big swimming pool. And I didn't know it was there either. And somebody had mentioned about this golf course, and I knew it was played with a ball, but that was about all. And Daddy said, "Well, that's where the White folks play golf. That's where they play golf." Daddy knew about this swimming pool and he said, "They have this swimming pool there, but nobody swims in it." It was run by the city. Now this was run by the city, but it was segregated. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Blacks didn't go to that swimming pool. But I never will forget, Daddy said, "Any Blacks who want to go swimming in that swimming pool can, because the tax money is paying for it." And I remember on the 8th of August, I was telling you about, we celebrate the 8th of August as Emancipation Day. And we went to a place called, I forget the name of this place. But anyway, it was a White recreation place and they rented it out to Blacks for the 8th of August. And Blacks in that section could come. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: And they had this big swimming pool and they had this recreation building. And we went, and Daddy said, "Why do Blacks want to go all the way there, to celebrate or to swim, when you got a swimming pool right over there in town?" And somebody said, "Well, that's for Whites." And Daddy said, "It don't make no difference. Our tax money is paying for it just like anybody else's. Because the tax money from the city is paying for it." And he said, "If they want to go, all they got to do is just to go." 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: But nobody ever listened to anything like that. Daddy talked a lot, but he was not pushy. He knew a lot what was going on, but he was not pushy. And he said, "If anybody wanted to go there, they could go." But I don't think anybody ever went over there. I don't think they did. Not to my knowledge. But that was the only swimming pool they had there. But back to this Black women's civil organization, they built a pool. They built a pool on, I think a part of the school ground. The school ground was run by the city. And I think they let them build a pool there. 

Paul Ortiz: Oh, really? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: This organization, mm-hmm, a swimming pool. 

Paul Ortiz: For Black people? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: Mm-hmm. For Blacks. 

Paul Ortiz: And that would've been about the time that you were a teenager? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: No, I had just crossed teenage line. I was leaving then. I was leaving Greeneville then, when that organization came about. I was ready to leave Greeneville then. But when I was coming up, no, we didn't have no swimming pool. We didn't have no recreation. We had a good time playing. But as far as recreation goes, we didn't have any. And I look at that sometimes. The Blacks would just visit each other as children. And our main thing was, we played ball. It's softball, baseball, and we even played some volleyball and another thing, we played croquet. I think that's what it is, croquet. 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: We had a croquet set and we had a basketball, but no goal to put it in. So we played that a lot, and rode bicycles and skates. It was a joyous time, when I think about it. We used to go skating with my girlfriends. 

Paul Ortiz: Was there a skating rink? 

Cordelia Manuel Brown: No, not then. You'd just skate on the sidewalk. That was it. There was no skating rink for Blacks or White at that time. But as I grew up, when I grew up, I think I had finished high school then, there was a skating rink put in. Now I didn't know too much about the skating rink, but seemed to me like Blacks and Whites could go on that skating rink. As far as I can remember. I didn't know much about it, because at that time I was getting ready to leave Greeneville. But they did put a skating rink up there. I think Blacks and White both skated on there. I think a lot of—