Читать книгу Tuskegee Airman, 4th Edition - Charlene E. McGee - Страница 5

1919-1939

•The 1919 Treaty of Versailles ending World War I put heavy demands on Germany, sowing the seeds for future conflict.

•Alcock and Brown completed the first nonstop transatlantic flight in 1919.

•After training in France, Bessie Coleman became the first licensed black pilot in the USA in 1922.

•Following the crash of the New York Stock Market, blacks were hit hard in the Great Depression of the 1930s.

•African Americans helped elect President Franklin D. Roosevelt, who stimulated the economy with the “New Deal” and, with wife Eleanor, was a supporter of civil rights.

•Blacks were admitted into the Civil Pilot Training Program at six black colleges and two non-academic flying schools in 1939.

•Hitler’s invasion of Poland signaled the beginning World War II.

None of us influence the circumstances of our birth, and so it was with my father, Charles Edward McGee, born on December 7, 1919 to Lewis Allen McGee and Ruth Elizabeth Lewis McGee. Lewis was a battle tested World War I veteran returned from Europe where he had served as a 1^st lieutenant and chaplain for the troops. At the time of Charles' birth the family lived at 425 E. 158th Street in Cleveland, Ohio, another accident of fate since Lewis' work, sometimes as a teacher, social worker and minister of the AME (African Methodist Episcopal) church, resulted in frequent moves.

Charles' brother, Lewis Allen Jr., was born two years before in Raleigh, North Carolina, and the family had lived in several locales before coming to Cleveland. It turned out the Cleveland stint was long enough to welcome the arrival of Ruth Monzella McGee on May 1, 1921. Sadly, it also served as the last earthly home for the children's mother. Ruth died within weeks of the birth of her daughter and namesake from an infection thought to be pneumonia contracted during her confinement at the hospital following childbirth.

Not much can be revealed about the short life of Charles' mother. Though born a Singleton, she was adopted by the Daniel Lewis Family. They lived in Springfield, Ohio, and Ruth most likely spent the greater part of her life there. Lewis Sr. came to know her while he was attending Wilberforce University in Xenia, Ohio, but did not talk about her to his children after her death. Whether she was a student at Wilberforce, Charles didn't know.

There is much I wanted to find out about my paternal grandmother Ruth and how her family coped after losing her at such a young age. Critical events are thought to be better recalled, unless too traumatic, in which case they can be suppressed. Some people say they remember things that happened at a very young age, but for whatever reason the rules of memory dictate, Dad cannot say much about the first decade of his life. When asked about his mother, he is quiet and gets a distant look in eyes peering back seventy five years.

"I have no personal recall of her," he finally answers.

There are bits and pieces of his early years Charles does remember. He remembers his father relating one story about his time at Wilberforce. He had a job on campus grooming and tending horses for the school's ROTC program headed by Colonel Benjamin O. Davis Sr. (Coincidentally, Davis would go on to become the nation's first black general and his son, B. O. Davis Jr., would follow in his footsteps, ultimately leading the

country's first black military pilots into the history books. The thought of these developments was almost inconceivable at the time.)

Lewis Sr. also related stories about being the second eldest of three sons and three daughters of Charles Allen and Gay Ankrum McGee, and growing up in a religious home. Charles Allen had been a slave until the age of six. In adult years, he became a Methodist minister, providing a strong spiritual foundation, and with wife Gay offered guidance and encouragement to their growing children. Gay's father, Charles Ankrum, was also an AME minister and a veteran of the Civil War.

Like most Negroes in this country, Gay and her husband Charles had mixed ancestry; hers was of Caucasian, Indian and African roots and his father was Scottish, but whether he was a slave owner or abolitionist is not known. Mixing of the races persisted despite anti-miscegenation laws against marriage or sexual relations between a man and woman of different races, especially between a white and a black.

Multiracial heritage prompted laws which defined racial identity in cases like the McGee’s. Just as brown eyes are dominant over blue eyes genetically, black lineage dominated. One thirty-second of black ancestry in the blood line, which equates to black parentage six generations passed, qualified a man or woman as Negro in most states with laws addressing racial identity.

Lewis Sr. was a prominent and handsome man. He was close to six feet tall and fair-skinned with dark wavy hair. While it might not have been apparent to the casual observer that Lewis was a Negro, he was never known to misrepresent his heritage. His wife Ruth had been brown skinned, quiet and unassumingly attractive in her own right. Their children spanned the colors between with Lewis Jr. being the darkest, Ruth very pale and Charles a honey color in the middle.

In the summer of 1921, Lewis Sr. was 27 years old and a widower faced with the prospects of rearing three small children alone. It is hard to imagine how their world must have viewed this motherless rainbow family. Though details of life in Cleveland remains behind the veil of lost childhood memories, periodic visits with Lewis' mother in Clarksburg and Morgantown, West Virginia, emerge in snatches. Lewis Jr., Charles and Ruth were put on a train in Cleveland and the conductor kept an eye on them until they were delivered into the hands of relatives waiting on the other end. The great “iron” steps onto the train looked pretty formidable to a little guy and while all of this was strange to Charles at first, he soon adjusted to the new adventure. When the time was right, the conductor let them eat the packed lunch, which was sent with them. For the rest of the trip they amused themselves as children are prone to do and the time passed quickly.

In Morgantown there was a boardwalk leading up to the house. Lewis Jr., Charles and Ruth played on it and school yard swings where Charles first soared high to momentarily escape the bonds of earth’s gravity. The time was not right, however, and one flight ended abruptly in a painful fall to the blacktop. Charles announced his distress for the entire world to hear as he ran to the house where Grandma Gay cleaned his wounded chin and dried his tears.

During those summer visits with Grandma Gay, she created a special place for them, one nurturing and comforting and filled with the love a departed mother could not offer. For that, I am grateful.

"Thank you, Mama Gay."

Patched up, Charles headed back to the swing set and unfinished business. The safer swing on the porch and the front step offered the best vantage point for family to gather to observe the end of the summer day. There they would relive times gone by, talk of hopes for tomorrow and watch events unfolding before them. During the evening and into the night, the aroma of fresh bread from the bakery nearby floated down the hillside and wafted through the valley.

Of course, things were not always so serene. Kids being kids, Lewis, Charles and Ruth got into their share of mischief. Charles took a turn throwing mud balls at freshly laundered sheets flapping on the clothesline, although he denied involvement in the prank. With both father and grandfathers being ministers, it is not surprising that playing church in the backyard was another favorite pastime. Mama Gay laughed at Charles' portrayal of the minister and, especially, the ending of his sermons. According to her version of the story, he was overheard delivering this closing line.

"Now it's time to sing one more song and get out of here."

"They tell me the story," Charles said, "but I don't remember anything like that either."

Sometimes the visits to West Virginia took place during the winter. An iron cook stove in the kitchen had to be stoked with wood. Helping fetch wood was the perfect job for a youngster underfoot. Often a treat was the reward and gingerbread was Charles' favorite. (To this day he still gets pleasure from the first bite of hot gingerbread cut from the corner of the baking tin.)

When Charles was eight years old, his father's work took the family south for a year, where Lewis completed a teaching assignment at Edward Waters College in Jacksonville, Florida. While it wasn't common for a Negro to have a higher education in 1927, Lewis was a graduate of Wilberforce College in Ohio, an accomplishment qualifying him for the appointment.

Lewis Sr. moved the children into a little cabin near the edge of town next to a sugar cane field. Cane fields were a place to play after school and the sweet taste of fresh cut cane was an added bonus. Crabs cooking in a tub over a backyard fire left indelible memories, as did Lewis Jr. being kicked by a mule he had the misfortune of following too closely.

Another recollection related to school and was not so pleasant. The Florida schools for Negroes hadn't kept pace with their northern counterparts and as a result, Charles had to repeat the third grade when the family returned to Cleveland.

In 1929, the stock market crashed, beginning economic chaos in America. Back in Cleveland, Lewis continued to be mother and father to children now eleven, nine and seven. Even in the best of circumstances they must have been quite a handful, but now resources were extremely meager and times difficult. Late in the year, Lewis moved on to Chicago, following job opportunities in social work.

Rather than keeping the children with him in the unstable situation they faced, he arranged for them to stay with Hershall and Harriet Harris, who were affectionately called Mom and Pop Harris. They lived in St. Charles, Illinois, about forty miles west of Chicago on the Fox River. By reputation and deed, the Harris’ were good people. Over the years, they had raised a number of children whose parents had been unable to care for them for one reason or another. Hershall worked in a foundry at the edge of town and although there were very few blacks in the area, the Harris’ were long time residents of the community.

Unlike Chicago, St. Charles was a small town providing a safe haven where the children were able to grow and thrive under the watchful eye of the close-knit Harris family. Mrs. Harris’ brother, William Luckett, who was a commercial artist, lived next door. He had a croquet court and thriving apple tree in the yard between their homes. The children had freedom to explore the woods and roam fields for hours at a time, and they took advantage of it, within the bounds set by the Harris’. These bounds imposed real limitations since the Harris’ were known for their strict code of conduct, a reputation which survived into my day.

In addition to their homework, Charles and the other children had regular chores, including mopping the kitchen floor, raking the yard and clearing fallen apples, and keeping their bedrooms straight. Children were to conduct themselves appropriately and know how to address their elders. Good manners were central

to good living and "yes ma’ms" and "no sirs" were expected. There was a price to pay for infractions and "spare the rod and spoil the child" was more than just a motto for foster children as well as natural born Harris’.

Charles’ years in St. Charles spanned third grade through the first year of high school. Because there were so few blacks, the schools were integrated and Charles became more aware of ethnic differences. Walking or riding a bike was the main form of transportation and passing through neighborhoods delivering newspapers gave him the opportunity to learn their distinct make up. Some near the foundry were Polish or of another European extraction. There was name calling occasionally.

"Usually young folks’ mischief," he explained, "but like they say, words don't hurt you."

The St. Charles years passed intermingling strict rules with climbing mulberry trees, riding bikes along the edge of town, skipping stones from the riverbank, and a notable trip to the World’s Fair in Chicago. Lewis and Charles joined the Boy Scouts of America where patriotic values of loyalty, bravery and service, consistent with their Christian upbringing, were strengthened. The quest for personal challenge carried Charles to the ranks of Eagle Scout. From scouting experiences he gained an enduring sense of the importance of brotherhood and service to others before self.

In years to come, Dad would take his family back to this boyhood home to visit the Harris’. On the ride there he told us how they helped raise him and his sister and brother. It was clear he developed a great affection for them, even as he cautioned us to mind our manners before we got out of the car. To this day I remember the story of Ma Harris smacking a girl "silly" for putting red polish on her toenails after being told not to. I questioned the harsh treatment.

"She should have done what she was told," my father replied. If not before, the healthy respect for discipline which served Charles throughout life was nurtured during his years in St. Charles.

During Charles' sophomore year in high school, his father accepted an AME church assignment and moved his children to Keokuk, Iowa. In 1935, The Great Depression was in full force, but the era was not much different from any other for folks who never had much.

"Life was meager all through these years, whether we're talking Ohio, Illinois or Iowa. In Cleveland we always had food, but not a lot of clothes. What we had was always clean and had patches on it put there by Mama Gay, Mrs. Harris or whoever. We didn't have a lot, never had a lot, but were aware that whatever we had was enough."

To a certain extent poverty, like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder.

"We each had a change of clothes...and shoes. I remember putting newspaper in my shoes when I wore a hole in the leather so my feet wouldn't get cold so quickly in the winter time."

It wasn't something that made Charles feel he was on the low end of the social or economic strata. It was just the nature of the times because there was the depression and everybody was suffering along. He knew there were some people who were better off. They had big houses with tennis courts and lived in another part of town, but that wasn't something the McGee family dwelled on.

Neither was racism. Reverend McGee had high ideals and believed in a vision of a world in which people treated each other equally, as brothers and sisters in the sight of God. Not only did he live by this principle, he also passed it on. So, Lewis Jr., Charles and Ruth learned to treat others as they wished to be treated. Ideals set the tone.

It is tempting to believe that being black is the single most defining attribute for a young child in America. What children are led to believe, and more importantly, come to accept about their circumstances, including race and ethnicity, ultimately defines their future.

The reality was most day to day living for Negro youngsters took place separate and apart from mainstream white America. Racial strife was remote for children living among their own people in a closed society. Overhearing comments by adults, they began to conceive of the outside world, but their real frame of reference was closer to home.

That's not to say Charles and other black children were protected from ridicule in their own backyard. Children of all persuasions grasp differences and use them as weapons to gain advantage. Exploitation of differences (height, weight, clothing, accent, background and so forth) is something most people have experienced. Growing up in the black community, being very dark or very light dramatically increases the likelihood of being singled out, teased and in the worst case ostracized. Charles being light-skinned and no exception was tested at a young age.

In Keokuk the picture began to change. He lived in two worlds, going to a predominantly white high school and living on the "colored" east side of town near his Dad's AME church.

Charles was a good student, prior admonitions and strict regimens already paying dividends. He was active in the school chorus and sports, although an early injury permanently ended his football days. Following an ill-fated tackle, he lay on the bottom of the pile and realized something was wrong. When he tried to stand up, pain made the injury obvious. His collar bone was broken. For weeks one arm was bound to his chest while the fracture mended and when healed a knot remained at the site of the break as a permanent reminder.

Basketball became his sport of choice after the football injury. Charles’ love for music also blossomed during high school years. The French horn intrigued him and orchestral

music was thrilling. He would have loved to play in the band, but the cost of an instrument was beyond his means. His voice on the other hand was free. He chose to participate in school chorus, an affinity increased by attraction to a lovely dark skinned girl who was also a member. Charles walked her home once, but as fortune and the girl's parents would have it, their relationship was short-lived.

"On occasion, I wonder what happened to her, " Charles acknowledged wistfully, a strain of music echoing from the past.

According to Charles, dating was different in the 1930s. There was little one on one or even double dating in his crowd. Young people usually did things in groups. A boy and girl may have an eye on each other. The two may even exchange a Christmas card or present. Virginia Tolliver was Charles first real date, a walk home from school. He liked her a lot. She liked him too, but her folks thought her too young for such “goings on.” Although their lives went separate ways, Charles never forgot her.

On hot summer days everyone, white and black, would go to the park for an outing. Blankets would be spread under a big shade tree. People enjoyed jumping into the muddy Mississippi River to cool off on a lazy afternoon.

"If you put your feet down you could feel all the muck, so you'd just jump in the water and start swimming. There wasn't much standing around."

The process of understanding how his race made his life different was under way by high school. Charles’ early education, with few exceptions, took place in predominantly white schools. The number of blacks in St. Charles and Keokuk was so small, all youngsters attended the same school. It was not a conscious attempt to integrate the races; it just wasn't economically feasible to segregate them. Prejudice manifested itself in both overt and subtle ways, neither of which escaped his attention nor that of the other black students.

"Oh sure there was racism," Charles observed without rancor. "There was prejudice in the town, because the town had a theater and you (Negroes) had to sit in the balcony."

About name calling, "Sometimes I'd be called nigger boy by kids on the street."

There were white students who befriended him only to be advised against it by less tolerant classmates. There was the inevitable caution.

"You don't need to get so buddy buddy with him."

Afterwards, no more invitations were extended to join in after school games or outings.

Closing of ranks when the wall of segregation was breached was not an isolated phenomenon. Social interaction could be a precursor to intimacy and, therefore, threatened carefully erected barriers and raised anxieties. “Well meaning” proponents of social order often interceded to keep things from going too far for the "good of all. "

In reality these were patronizing acts of racism. Lessons passed down for generations in the McGee family dictated Charles endure them with quiet dignity. So he turned a deaf ear and kept his feelings to himself. By not confronting their racist attitudes, he showed the boys more respect and common regard than they afforded him. Each incident shaped his consciousness and set the stage for future encounters in which he would not be acquiescent.

In many ways, it was easier for Charles to disregard the more blatant verbal assaults and social snubs than the racial biases in the educational system itself. Despite his outstanding performances, there were occasions when Charles did not get the recognition due him. Whether it was getting second place in the speech contest or the citizenship award he didn't win, the bias was sometimes so obvious that even white kids commented.

"You should have gotten first place. Probably the only reason you didn't is because you're Negro."

Other times it would be the solo part not considered appropriate for a colored student.

"In those days, good hearted whites would try to find a part that might be more 'typical,' so black students could participate in this type of thing (plays or chorus)."

Charles was more troubled by displays of unfairness in school. Any discrimination is disturbing, but name calling by a stranger on the street can be more easily dismissed as ignorance.

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me."

Education was supposed to be the path to a better life. Charles' betrayal in the very institution he had been taught to revere was a particularly bitter pill. In swallowing it, it is understandable he too could become bitter and resentful. Charles, however, would not.

Perhaps his resilience stemmed from the affirmation he received from Mama Gay, the discipline instilled by the Harris’ or his father's religious teachings that all God's children are created in his image and equally important. Maybe it was his own inner voice that wouldn't make room for self doubt, but some how he was able to put these racist experiences into a larger perspective. Rather than destructive forces, they became building blocks developing his strength of character. A chip on his shoulder would not advance his cause.

Two years later in 1937, he returned to Chicago.

Charles' last year in high school was a solitary time. After years of being widowed, Lewis Sr. had taken a second wife, Luvinia, who like Lewis was involved in social work. The introduction of Luvinia came as quite a surprise, if not to the family who lived so long without a mother in the home, to me and my brother and sister who had never known of a second (actually first) step grandmother. Dad, always the gentleman, was uncharacteristically vague about her short tenure and ultimate fate.

"I don't know what actually happened to her," he reflected. "Her life style was not very compatible with that (expected) of a minister's wife."

Obviously, she did not share some of the McGee values.

I probed to learn more about this newly introduced, albeit short-lived, member of the family.

"Well, as I recall, she did like to drink after a day's work. She started on a bottle of beer.... I just know when Dad left Chicago and went to Gary, she didn't go. We lived on Michigan Avenue near 55^th Street (Garfield Boulevard and Michigan) not far from Dusable High School. She had her room (in the apartment) and some evenings I would see her. Dad was back and forth (between Gary and Chicago), but not around enough for me to know exactly what was happening.... They didn't divorce at that time, but it was obvious it was not going to work. I was really kind of on my own, fighting the battle to do well and stay in school."

Enough said.

Lewis Jr. was away at Wheaton College. His experience there was the beginning of an estrangement from the family. It became apparent in following years that dogmatic religious beliefs Lewis Jr. was exposed to at school would irrevocably change the close relationship he and Charles had enjoyed.

Around the same time the decision was made for Ruth to attend Englewood, a girl's school in West Virginia. Without a female role model in the home, a controlled environment was thought best for a teenage girl. With Lewis Sr. in Gary, Charles, now eighteen years old, was for the most part left to fend for himself.

Returning to Chicago, Charles' previous academic misfortunes were reversed, because this time his new school was behind the one in Iowa.

"I didn't have to do anything for six weeks because of the difference."

With numerous temptations, the urban playground presented Charles with important choices in his young life. The street

scene was alluring and a youthful lust for life drew many young men to wine, women, and the pursuit of pleasure, particularly in the absence of a strong guiding parent in the home. The course he chose to follow had been carefully laid in his formative years and he was not inclined to deviate or indulge in the excesses of the day. He would not be distracted. Instead, he applied himself to his studies and set his sight on a college education, which he had been taught was the key to a successful future.

"All along folks kept asking what I was taking in high school. In other words, enter the college preparatory route. The difference was a lot more English, math and science. I just knew that you had to get to college."

About his social life in those days, Charles stifled a laugh. Obviously the frame of reference was very different for a teenager in the thirties versus the sixties. Patiently, he explained without specifically saying, the idea of having a social life required money. In the absence of one, you don't consider the other. What little socializing there was took place around school, chorus and glee club or church activities. Charles took odd jobs like washing and starching walls (to keep them clean) at Provident Hospital and sometimes used the money he earned to go to the movies, a rare treat.

"There was one girl I liked. She graduated in the same class. Her parents didn't want her seeing anybody `lighter' than her. Then there was another lady I made contact with, a classmate who went to the theater with me. When I left for college, we kept in touch a time or two before losing contact. I can't remember her name. Sometimes it comes back. Oh yes, her name was Emelda Charles, the only girl in her family for a couple generations."

Knowing that cooking was never one of Dad's fortes, I was curious about how he managed meals on his own. Scrambled eggs, a specialty of his, were most likely on the menu but what else? Members of the fast food generations will be appalled to know that a can of beans or soup often sufficed for a meal or late night snack.

Charles spent the year before he graduated from DuSable High School in the spring of 1938 in a spartan fashion. He made use of his time studying and as a result graduated ninth in a class of four hundred and thirty-six students. After high school, Charles planned to work for a year to make money for college. Luvinia, through connections she had, was able to get him a job with the Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC). In late 1938 and early 1939, Charles worked on various road and farm projects with 2664 Company in Mt. Carroll in northern Illinois and saved his money. The Corps was almost like a military camp. You got a uniform and a paycheck while you learned a skill and served the country. In Mt. Carroll, Charles worked with engineers, handling the transit and laying out contours. During that time he developed an interest in civil engineering which followed him into college.

While Charles was hard at work with Roosevelt's CCC Program, a bitter Adolf Hitler was leading the Nazi Party on a steady course of revenge for the harsh treatment Germans encountered after losing World War I. By September of that year, Hitler had taken control of Czechoslovakia, and with the help of Joseph Stalin, the Germans and Russians captured Poland. Polish Jews were being exterminated. Britain declared war on Germany and began sending troops into France. Hitler had his eyes on Norway to secure a foothold from which to launch an attack against Britain.

Rumblings of the war going on in Europe were starting to be heard in the U.S., but Charles and other young men his age were vaguely aware of them. For the most part, they were more absorbed with recovering from the depression and getting on with life in this country. The trouble abroad was too distant to have any real bearing on a young black man working to get into college.

"Even though things were building up in late '39, there was no emphasis on the war until later when the draft started in 1940."

Charles' thoughts had not yet turned skyward to imagine adventures there. Though they would become his heroes, he was unaware of Bessie Coleman’s determination to fly, which led her to France when no flying school in this country would admit a black woman, and Charles Alfred Anderson’s record as the first black to complete a transcontinental flight. He did not know of unprecedented advances made in aviation in the 1930s or that 125 black Americans held pilot licenses in 1939. In fact, nothing in his childhood or early experiences foretold what was to come. No memories of crop dusters over the sugar cane fields or stunt fliers in newsreels at the cinema. As he packed up his few belongings, took his savings and headed for Champaign-Urbana and his first year at the University of Illinois, his greatest passions in life had not yet been revealed.