[Mary Hebert] Please just state your full name and when and where you were born. [Mary Abbyss] Mary Elizabeth Jones Abbyss, born in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. You want the date? - Mm-hmm. - March 18, 1936. - When did your family come to Norfolk? - As far as I know, it was 1943. Now this is sort of something I'm remembering. - But you were a small child when you came. - I was a small person. - Do you know why they decided to come? - I don't know the exact reason other than it was during the war, and my dad knew he could make a better life as far as working in the Navy Yard. That part I know. - Do you know what they did while they were in Winston-Salem? - My daddy was a chauffeur. My mother possibly was a housewife. My father owned a cafe. I don't know which was first, but I know those are two of the things I knew about. - And he worked for the shipyard when he came here? - Called Navy Yard, at that time it was called Navy Yard, during the war. - (softly) Okay. And did your mother work while she was here in Norfolk? - At that time she had five children and mother was a housewife. - Do you remember your grandparents at all? - My grandmother was a cook and she worked at a hotel called Carolina Hotel. - In Winston-Salem? - In Winston-Salem. And she was a renowned cook. I can vividly remember the things she would bring, like cold french fries and cornbread muffins, and pound cake. Those three things sort of stand out. - Would she ever tell you about what life was like for her when she was growing up? - No, she didn't. No, she did not. - Did your parents ever tell you those kinds of things? You know, what it was like for them when they were children and coming up through-? - Mm, not enough at this point for me to really say I have a recollection of things. - What do you think was the most important thing that your parents taught you? - Then? Or in general? - In general. - In general, my mother taught me that I could do anything, that I could persevere. She didn't use that word, but it means that there was nothing that I could not do. - And how did she show you that you could do anything? Did she give you examples? - I can tell you in a roundabout way. I was brown-skinned and my hair was short at a time when it wasn't popular to be that way. And I don't know- Well, she sort of said she wanted my self esteem to be enhanced, because I had very short hair, and she said if I couldn't do anything else, I could always be smart. And she always insisted that I keep my head in a book and be doing something. - So they valued education. - Absolutely! My daddy would use words such as, "I want you all to have what I didn't have," and he called us chillens. C-H-I-L-L-E-N, or something like that. And he would use the expression, "You chaps have a chance," C-H-A-P-S, "Have a chance to do what I couldn't do." And he would say, another little phrase he had was, "I'm not working my hands to the bone so that you all won't have a way in life or you won't make it." He wanted us to have a way in life that he did not have. And he actually verbalized that. - So he thought that in order for you to get ahead and to do better than he had done, you needed an education. - Oh, that was emphasized throughout our life, from the time I can remember, I could read. I remember my mother, books, and even to this day, she has books, and, you know, I do the same thing. I mean, since we do some of the same thing, a book is something we have always had around us all our life. - Did she teach you to read at home before- - Evidently, because I never remember going to a formal school until I got here. And see, in '43, I had to be seven, six or seven. I can't remember the month. And I never remember going to a public school until I got here, and they skipped me. And my first teacher was Miss Mary Cuffee. And she said I was smart as a whip. Those were her very words. - C-U-F-F-E-Y? - Uh, C-U-F-F-E-E. - Okay. - F-F-E-E. Mary Cuffee. - And what school did you attend here? - At the very beginning? - Yeah, the elementary school. - Called Providence. It was Providence, and I can't remember the other part because they had pre-ma, which was for a six-year-old, wasn't five, to 12th, or 11th then, it might have been 11th. Now it could have been 12th, but I can't remember if they had had 12th grade at that time or not. But every grade was in the school, and each room had two grades. - And that was- - If I'm not mistaken, it was a school with a first floor and a second floor. If I remember correctly. Had wooden floors and pot belly stoves. - Did the children have to take care of the stoves, and- - Yes. I mean, people were responsible then, people did what they had to do. It was not like you had to make anybody do it. - What were the textbooks like? Do you remember when you were- - I remember the first book, I was, "Look, look, see, see," "Jane, Puff". "Dick and Jane, Spot and Puff". Now I know it's Scott Foresman, at that time I did not know the publication, but I can remember, "Look, look, oh, oh, oh." I mean, those were the characters. The daddy had a briefcase and I can't remember what the mother did, but Sally was a little blonde head, and Dick and Jane were the older two. Those were my first books that I remember, you know, in a school. - Did they have all the pages in them? Were they ratty? - Nope. At that time I did not know the significance of those books, but they were the most obsolete, old books that you could have ever seen in your life. But yet we treasured those books. - Now, when I spoke to Ms. Dozier, she mentioned that you remember, like, if a child didn't have a page in the book- - Oh yes! And then the next person, like, okay, I can't say we sat two at a desk, but let's say maybe it was so crowded that you could easily pass your book if your page was missing. I mean, it was not unusual to have a book with no pages, or a half of a page torn. I mean, these are things I can remember. So that means if we were reading a story, if my book did not have that page, then the next child, you just automatically looked over at the next child's book, you know, it was not a problem. - So you all would make do with-? - Oh yes, oh yes! You used what you had. But, you know, nobody complained or fussed about the fact that you didn't have a page. Because, like I said, we were just so glad to have those books. - Did your school have a library? - In the elementary years? - Mm-hmm. - If they did, I did not know about it. - And you didn't go there for high school, so- - Well, we left that, because of segregation, each grade went to a different school at one point in my life. You want to hear something about that? - Sure! - Okay. I remember starting school in second grade. Can you put this on pause? [INTERRUPTION] We do? - Right. - I forgot what your previous, I forgot what your previous question was. But this is what I learned how to do from Ms. Mary Cuffee Reed. - So she taught you how to embroider? - She taught me how to embroider in school. - And you held on to that- - Mother kept it for years and years, and then she gave it to me. And this is something I took with me when I visited her recently. - Did the boys learn how to do that too, or it was just the girls? - That's what, I know it was a type of sexist, in a sense. And I can't say yes and I can't say no. I know the boys did things with wood, but this was actually done in the classroom. And I don't remember. I just can't say what the boys did, but it seems like I remember everybody doing the same thing, but I don't believe that there would have been a problem, you didn't have a problem when a teacher would tell a child what to do, and somebody sassing back and talking back, at that particular time. So I have a feeling everybody might have been doing the same thing. - Did she reinforce your self-esteem like your parents did? - Absolutely! A teacher was like a second parent. And at this point she lived next door to us and we esteemed her highly. It wasn't like we were on the same level, but by the same token, it wasn't like we were that distant. It was, you couldn't do any (laughs), the teacher knew your parent just like you knew your parent. And Miss Cuffee, she was a miss, Miss Cuffee stayed on us, but she never had problems with me. And I'm really not being vain. I was a very good student, and she just nurtured me and made me know how smart I was. - She didn't separate her class into skin color and arrange it hierarchical- - It was all, this was all Black. - Right, but no, I mean, lighter skinned, darker skin- - Not to my knowledge. I was not aware of that. I think she put emphasis on good behavior and smartness, but not the color part. - Because some teachers did do that. - Later that came along, especially, and that would run into how I knew I could never be a cheerleader, or Miss Whatever-the-Name-of-My-School might have been. I knew that that person was going to be light. And have long hair. I know I could never have been a majorette, I mean, what did I say, cheerleader? - Cheerleader. - I meant majorette. - So they- - The majorettes were, to me, they appeared to be the lighter girls. - Where did you go to high school? - Oh, that's what I started to tell you. Ms. Cuffee, at that time, taught me second and third in one room, as far as I know. In 4th grade, there was another teacher named Ms. Jenkins, well, Gerty Jenkins. She taught me 4th grade, and one of the things, at that time, they had 48 states, she taught us every state and every capital, and you had to remember them alphabetically. And she also taught me how to do cursive writing. That was Ms. Jenkins. All right. In 5th grade, I went to a school called Gilmerton Elementary School. That's across the bridge, and you had to ride a good distance. So at that time, if I remember correctly, mother had children at Providence, I was at Gilmerton, and she had somebody at Crestwood. The schools then, the grades rather, were segregated according to your school, depending upon the grade you were in. And that was a form of segregation, in a sense. Because the schools were crowded, you went to the school that your grade designated. So in 5th grade I left Providence and all the 5th grade children went to a school called Gilmerton. 6th grade, I can't remember where I was, but in 7th, I know I came back to Providence. And at that time high school was 8th-12th. And, now, it could have been 11th, like I said, it seemed like I vaguely remember 11th grade being a grade and then they added on 12th, but I don't want to say that that's a fact with me. But it seemed like I remember children graduating from high school only in 11th grade. But I know my mother went to 11th grade, and my mother did finish high school. My daddy had a third grade education, but not equivalent to third grade as of today. But anyway, getting to high school, they had (laughs), you are not familiar with this area, but the schools was scattered all over, and Chesapeake was called Norfolk County. My school was now, at that time, called Norfolk County High. And they had everybody from as far as Norview Section, called Oakwood, Bears Quarters, Finch's, Doziers Corner. And what I'm saying, I can't tell you in miles, but people who know the radius of a map will tell you that these were some long distances. Everybody went to the same high school, even part of Portsmouth now, Cavalier Manor and it was called Norfolk County High, and Alexandria Park. And I went there from 8th, 9th, and 10th. - Did they bus people in? - Yeah, all these students were bused, I'm just saying, the distance is more than you would imagine today. It's not like busing from one neighborhood to another. It was busing from one county to another. I mean, from one area, rather. It was all called Norfolk County, but it was just such a (laughs) real large area. I mean, it would be miles, more than 20 miles. That's a long way. - Were there any teachers in high school that influenced you or impacted you and the decisions that you made, you know, to go into teaching? - Oh, that was already done by my mother. My mother always told me I was going to be a teacher. All my life, I just knew. I mean, I had no choice. My momma told me I was going to be a teacher all my life. I had two aunts in Winston-Salem who were teachers. Lois Clement, at that time, and Naomi Clement. - Lois and Naomi- - We call her Aunt Lois and Aunt Na. N-A. They were teachers, and they would come here periodically. And so those were the teachers in our family. - Did your mother ever regret not going to college? Did she ever tell you that-? - She didn't say it, but possibly. Because my mother overcompensated in every way, she was very industrious, very smart, and she was very creative in every sense of the word. So we know she should have been a teacher, or should have gone to college. And had she gone to college, she would not have had the opportunities we had, because the biggest thing you saw was a person coming out being a secretary or a teacher. - Right. - And maybe a nurse. But I don't remember Black women doing anything else. - Just being secretaries and teachers. - Right. And a nurse. - And nurses. - Mm-hmm. But there was no other degreed person that I was aware of, any Black who did anything, if she was a woman, she was a teacher. - So they didn't have female lawyers in those- - Not at all. I never heard of one in Virginia. - What about your teachers in high school? - Oh, in high school, getting back to high school, certain teachers stand out. Ms. Andrews was my home ec teacher. I started taking sewing, and even though I sew today, I think indirectly, she was such a disciplinarian and she was such a rigid, strict type person that I think I always remembered the things she did in that sewing class. But we didn't do as much sewing as we did learning the rules of housekeeping and things like that. But one of the people who stood out in my mind was my biology teacher, Mr. Clifton McDonald. One of the things you had to do, and this was 10th grade, was dissect a frog. And I was so afraid of it. He compensated and let me write a report instead of having to take away a frog, because he sensed that I was so afraid. And he also made me enjoy, you know, being who I was. I had a crush on him. (interviewer laughs) He explained it to my mother because that's when men were gentlemen, and I didn't even know what a crush was, but he let me know. I mean, he let my mama know. Can I tell you about my band teacher? - Sure, sure. - Mr. Oliver Owens was our band teacher, and he (laughs) encouraged my parents to get me a trumpet. And, I mean, he was the person responsible for us finding it. And if I remember correctly, it seemed like we paid somebody $5.00 a week, if not $5.00 a month, until it was paid for. But he was the one who made it very simple for me to enjoy band, and I loved band. And that was at Norfolk County High. You want me to stay right there, or go to my other, when they changed schools? - It's whatever you want to do. - Okay. In 10th grade they started building a school in this side, which at that time was called South Norfolk. This area was called South Norfolk. The whole area was called Norfolk County. And now this, it was good and bad because the sad part was, we had to break ties with friends we had met from 8th-10th. It was a complete new school. In 11th grade, we came to a new school, and even though it was inferior, it looked like it was a still brand new school. But later, you know, we realized it was an inferior school. So that meant we lost all those contacts that we had made from 8th-10th. But one of the good things was, the teachers there wanted to make sure that we would be prepared for life. And this is where I remember teachers who probably did a great job of trying to prepare us for college. Now, I met another band director named Ernest Owes. Now Mr. Ernest Owes realized that the trumpet was too hard for me and suggested that I use a baritone, and to my regret on one part, I would not read the bass clef. He translated every song that I was supposed to learn in band into treble key to make it easier for me to play the baritone horn. And that is something I vividly remember. - So they wanted to make it- - Make it easy for the student. - Could you describe some of the football games? Would you all play at the football games? - That was the only, well, talking about your mama's rule- I was raised in what was called Holy Sanctified in those days, but now we call it Pentecostal. Had it not been for band, I would not have gone to any school activities. I was in this choir, at that time you could be in choir. I got in everything I could get in to make sure I could go to some things. I never would have gone to a game, those were the days when you wore (laughs) uniforms with pants, and you didn't wear pants in ordinary life. That was the only way I could wear pants. Our uniform at Carver was dark blue and orange, and I can't remember what our slogan was, but that was the only way that I could go to a game. And we had some games, and we played, I don't know what class schools they would play, but they would. Oh! In band, we had what we had called band festivals. And we went to Petersburg and different places like that. And that was, like, an all day event. So I'm assuming it might have been on a Saturday. But I did go to games. But our school was not a top level team at that time. It was like a beginner's school, 11th and 12th grade. - Did Carver have a library? - Do you remember if Carver had- - It had a library, but it was not a bonafide top-of-the-line. And I'm sure that most of those books were old-type books. It was not a top-of-the-line library. - Would they have, like, missing volumes, and- - I have a feeling that I remember, I'll put it this way, nobody required us to write a term paper. I never went to the library to write, to do research. - I was talking to William Coker, who's Ms. Dozier's- - He was in my class. - And, you know, he was telling me how the desks were all old, and- - Everything we had. But, like I said, at that time, you didn't realize. It's when you look back, like, it was after I became a teacher that I realized how obsolete our books were. See? And it was actually during desegregation when I realized what had happened, because I was, at that time- This is really sort of jumping ahead of my high school days. When I started teaching in Chesapeake, I was in an all Black school. And I thought everything, you know, was all right. I mean, this is what I was accustomed to. And what happened, this person, Dr. Kingdom, sat in my class and would observe, and I just took it as an observation, this had to be '68 or '69. Well, between '67 and '69, I'll say between '67, because I started Southeastern in '66. And my supervisor was Mr. William Johnson. And Mr. Johnson would observe me and give nice evaluations and whatever, but this other man would sit in for an hour at a time. And I still never realized what happened was- Later I was one of the Blacks that went to Great Bridge Elementary School for desegregation purposes. And so I looked back in retrospect and said, "Oh, they sat down to make sure you were qualified to teach in a White school." Now I believe I'm correct on that, even though nobody ever said it. To have a person watch you that long and sense that you were okay to teach in an all White school. - Was he a White super- - He was a White supervisor. Mr. Johnson was Black, and the other man who came, Dr. Kingdom, was White, from the school board. - Kingdom or King? - K-I-N-G-D-O-M. - Okay. - Dr. Kingdom. And Mr. Johnson is still living. Actually, he has a grandchild in the school where I currently teach. - Did your parents regulate your social activities when you were in high school? - Such as they were, that my social activities by today's standard would be considered zero. Because, I mean, the biggest thing we could do, we would go to school and stay in church. And I worked after school- oh, let me tell you about my working experience. - Oh yes, please! - I have been working since I was 13. I worked at Batagallia Produce. B-A-T-A-G-A-L-L-I-A. These were Italian owners of a produce company. I stripped kale, pushed a hand cart with three bushels of whatever they had. It was a seasonal type thing, whatever was in season. And I worked and my money went directly (laughs) to my mother. And even if I had a check, it was on her, the hours were put on her stuff. Oh! Back it up. Mother worked after school punching stubs for the workers at a produce thing, but she did not have what you would call a full-time, the way most people would call a job. But she worked to make it compatible with the hours that we were in school. And she was called a strawboffee, I don't know if that was a negative or a positive statement. But from the time I was 13, and I'm going to say that was 8th or 9th grade, until I finished high school, I worked at the Batagallia Produce after school. And the hours would range anywhere from 3-11 to 12 at night. - How would you get your homework done? - That's why I said I had to have been smart. - Yeah. - Even then I didn't realize how smart I was because I was a good student. And plus it was required. You were going to work plus do homework, now you talking about discipline. So between work, church, and school, there was not much of a social life, but our social life centered around our church activities and all playing the piano on Sundays. We were limited with the kind of things that- Like I said, my family was a real, what would be called strict. Even in those days, we would call it strict. We were noticed as those sanctified folk. - So you never got to go, like, the drug stores for sodas and things like that? - No, there was a store in this neighborhood and we could go and get sodas. But my mom would (laughs), this is sort of funny, she would divide it up with water and put sugar and, you know, make it stretch. Or we would get packs of Kool-Aid and she'd make it. We had plenty to eat at all times. And mother cooked a lot, and she cooked a dessert every day. Now that's something that stands out. She cooked a dessert every day. Can you put that on pause? [INTERRUPTION] Okay. - When you were working for the produce- - Yeah, Batagallia. - Batagallia Produce, how much did you earn? Do you remember what you earned? - I can't remember if it was, it was a minimal amount, but it was a constant. Because my daddy worked at the, like I said, the Navy- He could have been working at the Lonestar, let's say he was working at the Lone Star Cement Plant now, because right after 1945, when the war ended, he went right across the water to the Lone Star Cement Company and got a job. And my daddy was industrious, worked all the time. To compensate for having five children and a wife, he worked at Batagallia Produce, but I can't remember what he did other than I know he cleaned the office. So that meant my daddy was there, my mama was there, and I worked. And whatever must have been the minimum wage at that time, that's what we got. What I got. - Did your brothers and sisters have to work also? - Yes. My sister worked for a teacher, and she cleaned her house. And my two brothers worked for a man who had- Everybody worked except my baby sister, Delores, I don't remember her ever working. But we were a year apart in ages. But my brother worked for a man who owned a wood yard. This was a Black guy. - Did they all get to go to college? - No, I'm the only one that went to college. - Okay. - And I'm the oldest. - How did the people who owned the business treat you? Were you treated well by- - Well, I would say yes, and I think we were treated well, but one thing that stands out in my mind, I think I told this to Ms. Coker- - Dozier. - Dozier. At that time, our bosses were our age, and we knew that they were young men, but we called them Mr. Gay, and Mr. So-and-So when they called us by our name. Now that was one of the things. But as far as being fair, I believe they tried to be fair. But yet, on the other hand, you sort of knew your place. - Could you describe the neighborhood that you lived in? What section of Norfolk? - Right where we are now are the woods where we played. We called these the woods. Where my house is, the city, I guess this became air property that nobody claimed, or taxes weren't paid, and this land was bought by the city. This particular area was a wooded area. And we just had the little hedges and wild roses. And my house would have been in the middle of Strawberry Lane. Where we were raised was in the middle of Strawberry Lane in Cardigan, where I am now, our house. And it was sort of, like, in a field, it wasn't a real street then. And we had, like, a little path. And all this area right here was sort of wooded. And we had unpaved streets, and it was a house that would be on the corner of where this Strawberry Lane Daycare is, which is Rhodes and Strawberry. And we had a best friend called the Hawkins family, and all their children played together. At at our house, everybody knew everybody, everybody looked out for everybody. And they had three major churches. St. Joseph AME, First Baptist, and Providence. So our lives sort of centered around that because the only time that I remember going to the beach was when one of those churches took what they called excursions. And we were allowed to go to the beach with our family. I don't remember going unattended. And I do know I couldn't go at night. And the other thing is, girls who didn't work at this produce place where I worked, in the summer, worked at the beach, and mother never, ever let me go work at the beach because that was considered worldly. So I could never work at the beach. - But on the excursions to the beach- - We had a good time! You had a great big picnic basket loaded with everything that people could cook. Fried chicken, cakes, pickles, potato salad, Kool-Aid in a jug. I mean, my whole, like, my daddy and all, there's seven of us, now that was an excursion for everybody. Everybody went. And if I'm not mistaken, I think we must have gone on a bus. - And did you all go to, is it Sea- - Seaview Beach. - Seaview. - It's called Seaview. And that was an all Black segment of it. But at that time they had an amusement park. At this- I can't remember if we were allowed to go there then or not, but I know it was something you could see. But Seaview was nothing but a beach, but it was an all day trip, and it was very good. - How was it divided? How did you know where Seaview ended and one of the White beaches-? - At that time it wasn't, they had more cottages on the beach than anything else. And I believe that there might have been a little board-type something, but the beach was not as crowded as it is now. So the Black area was just designated in that one little portion. So there was no danger. We didn't even see White folk. So their area was farther down, but it was not crowded the way it is now. - So you had Sundays off, though, you didn't work on Sundays? - Oh right, we did nothing on Sunday. Mother didn't even cook on Sunday, Mother would cook on Saturday. Every Saturday, she made macaroni and cheese, potato salad, cooked fried chicken. Mother didn't believe in cooking on Sunday (laughs). We did nothing on Sunday but go to church and sit in the living room and play music on the piano, church music. Or listen to the radio. And listen to, oh, you know, Christian music. - So you all would sing? - Sing, right, right. That was a ritual, plan. - Did this neighborhood have a name? - Yeah, called Westmunden. And even today it's called W-E-S-T- one word. - Oh, it's one word? - W-E-S-T-M-U-N-D-E-N. - Okay. What kind of families lived here? Were most of them working class-? - Most of them were working class. Ms. Cuffee, my first teacher, lived next door, but to look at the family, and I'm not taken away from her prestige, it was just a regular family. But there was another set of teachers called the Jones sisters, Miss Ida and Miss Susie, they were teachers. Mrs. Skinner, Mrs. Miller. There were some families who had teachers, but the majority of the people were a working class neighborhood. And most of the men worked at the Navy Yard at that time. - It's not too far away. - Right. - Were there any sections in Norfolk that were considered bad sections where you weren't allowed to go into? - I would say the Chase Street (laughs) area had a reputation (laughs). Called the red light district, they might not have called it that, but. It was like at night, it would change- We could go there because that was a Black section. And that's where you went to go to the Woolworth and a store called- Well, there was a clothing store at the corner of Brambleton and Yarmouth. And we had a bus, a red and yellow bus, called the new light bus. And that bus would take you there, and if you missed that last bus, you couldn't get home. - Was it a city bus? - No, it wasn't a city, privately owned bus. It might have been owned by the same folk who owned Seaview Beach. - So it wasn't a segregated bus where you had to- - No, right, that was a Black-owned bus for Black folk. - So you didn't have to sit in the- - Right. And to go to the city, you would have to walk all the way to South Norfolk and catch the trolley car. And that was very segregated. I mean, with a line on the bus, meaning you sat behind the line. Or stood, because if seats were empty in front of that line, you still stood up behind the line. You didn't go and sit in those seats, until 1954, or there about. Somewhere around- - So after the Montgomery Bus Boycott, then? - It wasn't, I don't know if it was, well, that could have been it. Then that's beyond, I know something very significant happened in '54- - I'm not sure- - That I remember, because it was before the late sixties, because this happened before I went to Norfolk State, because I remember my daddy, I'm sort of paraphrasing, he was afraid, the minute that it was decreed that it was okay to sit anywhere, I remember he told us, "Oh, you ain't obliged to sit on that bus like that." And we would, I was determined that I was going to sit in the front of the bus. Now I do remember that. And I remember his apprehension about that. So that was before Martin Luther King's time. - So that was before that. - That was before that. But so I'm saying it had to be after the 1954-type situation. That's what I think. - So did you go and sit in the front of the bus? - Absolutely! Because at that time, actually I tell you when it had to have been, it was when I was at Norfolk State. So it had to be between '54 and '56. Because Norfolk State that time was called Little State, Norfolk Division of Virginia State College, and it was only two years. So it had to be between '54 and '56. - Where did your family do their shopping? Did you go to Church Street? - Well, Mother- We didn't do a lot of buying, not a lot of buying, but if you really needed a certain- And you really got clothing more either for special times, like Christmas, Easter. Or, like, in my case, I remember needing some black shoes and a black dress to be at a convocation in Norfolk State, and we went to Rice's. But we went to a store called Anne Tell, I believe, these are Granby Street stores, but the only thing was, you couldn't try them on. You could go to the store, but you couldn't try the clothes on. - So you could not try on the clothes? - No, you could not. - How did you determine what fit- - As far as I know, I'm assuming your mother could hold it up to you. But I know you could not try on those dresses. You could not go in the dressing room. - What about shoes? - That was the part I was trying to figure out, how we bought shoes. I'm not sure if the same rule held true. I do know for a fact that we didn't go to what I called the better store, we went to a store called L. Snyder's, and I think that's on St. Paul Boulevard now. It's near the MacArthur Memorial now. But the shoe part, I don't remember. But, then again, you didn't buy that much. It wasn't like you'd go the way people go now. Every now and then you got a pair. For example, all children got shoes for school. So I can't remember how that was done. - But you do remember not being able to try on the clothes. - Absolutely. I remember not being able to try on clothes. - What about groceries? Where'd you all go for the groceries? - It was called Piggly Wiggly, it was in South Norfolk. My daddy had a bicycle, and he had a basket in the front. And I can't remember how he got those groceries loaded, but he was noted for going down the community, riding his bike and carrying all his groceries. - You all didn't have a car? - We did not have a car at that time. In Winston-Salem, he had a car, but when we came here, we did not have a car. From the time that I was a very little girl, I'm trying to, I can't remember when we got a car, but it wasn't while I was in high school. We did everything by walking. We walked from here to Campostella to go to church every single Sunday in a line. And we knew everybody from Westmont into South Norfolk to Campostella. - That's a long walk. - That was a long walk. It was a ritual. Like I said, that was something we did. And sometimes on Sunday we did it twice a day because you would go to, and mother always carried a shopping bag full of sandwiches, bologna sandwiches. - Would you all sing on the way to church? Would you sing religious songs? - Singing and talking, and religious songs. Always conversation. Always singing. - Did any of your relatives come from Winston-Salem to here, or was it just- - Only to visit. We were the only family. We were the immediate family. We had no relatives here. - Did you do any long distance traveling when you were growing up? - I remember going, you mean like to visit, or- - Yeah, to visit someone. Did you have to get on the train or on the bus to travel? - No, we didn't do that, as far as I recall. - Did you go by car, or- - I'm just saying, we just about stayed put, mm-hmm. - Okay. Did anyone else from your community belong to the same church as you did? - No, we didn't, and that's what made it such a lonely, that part was, you know, very difficult. We were the only ones. At that time, we don't remember, I don't remember anybody in the community, you know, who was not Baptist or Methodist or Christian. - Were you allowed to play with the other children? - We could play, with restrictions, limitations, meaning your parents, you know, had their rules. - Did they have to approve who you played with? - Yeah! Yes. We couldn't even go out of the yard without asking. And if you want to hear something funny, I got my lash, and we got whippings, I don't mean spanking. My mother beat me on July the fourth when I was 16 years old for going out of the yard to Francis Smith's house. My uncle Paul had come down here from Washington, D.C. And you know how when your parents have company you think you're going to do something? All I did, just walked out the yard with a group. And when I came back, she beat me. And that was my 16th, I know I was 16! I want to say it was July the fourth. I was 16. - So you had to ask permission to do just about anything. - To do things. Mm-hmm. - What about when you went off to college? I mean, did you just go to Norfolk State- - Right. I had an Aunt Mary who sent $100 for my graduation. My aunt lives in Washington D.C., and she worked, and she was, like, one of the relatives who made it well enough to send back money to help. She sent me a pink gown, but Mother never let me go to the prom. I never went to a prom. And she sent me a pink ballerina evening gown, but I never went to a prom. And she sent $100 when I graduated in '54. And that $100 was a down payment for me to go to Norfolk State. And when I went to Norfolk State, I was in the Noah Ryder's choir. I started the band, but I couldn't keep up band on a college level, so I majored in elementary ed. And we had a president named Dr. Lyman Beecher Brooks, and Dr. Brooks talked with parents to this extent. He fixed it so they could pay your tuition in increments. I mean, I'm not talking about hundreds of dollars. Like, tuition itself for the whole year was probably no more than $200 at that time. But that was a lot of money. And you could pay him $25 a month, or however it was, you could just pay in increments. - So he wanted the students- - Oh, Dr. Brooks is noted for wanting his students to succeed. You had to reach the academic status that he wanted, but students could enter. Now I did not enter under this status. I entered, you know, through the regular admission, but there were students who probably were not, you know, such good students, but they worked hard and they went to school and they were able to, you know, get the grades that they needed. And Dr. Brooks was noted for allowing that. That was just one of the things known, at that time it was called Little State because it was a division of Virginia State. And it was really called Norfolk Division of Virginia State College. - Okay. - So I went there from '54 to '56 and I got a two year certificate. - Could you teach at that point? - No, no, no. Okay, at that time I had two options. I had an aunt who lived in Baltimore, and this brings a different side of my life. When I finished Norfolk State, they could not afford to send me to Virginia State, that's where people would normally go. And my aunt lived in Baltimore, they had this college called Coppin State Teachers College, and she knew that it was $25 a year tuition. But the part she didn't know was (laughs) you had to be a Maryland resident. So when they got me in Coppin, and it was not hard to do, they had to make a way to pay the additional tuition. But I finished Coppin State Teachers College. - Compton? - Coppin. C-O-P-P-I-N, Coppin. At that time it was Coppin State Teachers College, but it might be called university by now. - And they just trained teachers? - Right, it was a teacher's college. - What was Baltimore like as compared to Norfolk? - First of all, it was culture shock because of the city life. The rowhouses was something I had never been used to. But I got stuck right away into a church even stricter than the one I had been accustomed to, called the Church of God Elder Michaux, Lightfoot Solomon Michaux was the pastor. So there was no free, like, the freedom you think you thought you were going to have, there was no existence of that type freedom because we went to church every night there. But the other thing that I found out, every course that I had had at Norfolk State, I had to take an extra course at Coppin. And I don't know if this is a fact, but the standards in Maryland were higher than the standards in Virginia. - So did you have to repeat courses? - I had to repeat many courses. And that was when I found out at that time that the standards of education across the state, Virginia rank 41st of the 48. I found that out in Maryland. And another thing I found out was that they had better materials. I'd like to say even in college, there was a shock. And actually it took me one extra year to finish. At that time, it wasn't anything to brag about. It was like, it was something (laughs) my mama would probably have a hard time dealing with, but that's what it was. But I made it. - Was it different segregation-wise up in Baltimore? - Ah, yes, because for one thing, I can't remember if there were White students at Coppin, but I remember we had White instructors, and I remember I had never had a White instructor at Norfolk State. And my art teacher was White. But the other thing was, I can't remember if the bus, this segregation situation didn't exist there anyway, the way that it had been in Virginia, so you didn't notice the things there that you noticed in Virginia. - So they wouldn't have had the signs? - Oh, no! I never noticed the signs or anything. - I need to turn this-