When we got back from the farm, I had gotten pretty friendly with Charles who was from Maywood and we would catch the train and go into the Chicago and he would show me the sights. This was a time before parents worried about untoward things and the like happening to their kids, so we went all over, roaming from the lake to the west side and from the north side to the south side .Going into ( Jewish, Polish, and Black neighborhoods) sampling foods and the culture.
We both had a little bit of larceny in our hearts so one time we decided to make a foray to the town just west of Maywood, Melrose Park just across the Big Four railway yards. There were at least 10 parallel sets of tracks you had to cross to take the short cut to the town. Our destination was a Western Auto store with the mission to steal a bicycle siren.
We both had on knickers with one pocket torn open so we would have room to drop the loot down our pant leg. Real clever young criminals. I copped a siren the kind that you pushed a plunger on top to make it sound. As we were walking towards the door my siren went “errrrrrr” and I tried to walk slower but a clerk heard it and said “ what that in your pants?”. We both broke out the door, it was no way the guy was going to catch us and flew back across the railroad yard. My siren “errrrring” with every step I took. Just as we were in the middle of the sets of tracks, a train came hurtling towards us it’s head light swiveling the whistle blowing. When you looked down the track you couldn’t tell which track it was on and there were so many we froze. Falling down between the tracks, we flattened ourselves in the ditch. The train flew by showering us with ciders and sparks only a track a way. You talk about scared shitless. Charles and I were shaking all the way home and when I left Maywood I gave him the siren as a reminder of our close call because I didn’t want to ever be reminded of that day. This rank right up there with some of the dumb stuff I did and lived to tell about.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
St Louis and Camp RiverCliff
My father’s best friend was my godfather "Uncle Red", who had attended Meharry and Homer G. Phillips with him. He was one of the first Black psychiatrist in the country and remained in St. Louis to practice. He married Aunt Dot and they were unable to have children. So, I became their special child. They would have me come to St. Louis in the summer where he would take me to major league baseball games and she would take me to the zoo at Forrest Park or to some function to refine me. Uncle Red was from Gastonia, NC and his dad was a doctor and had owned a Black baseball team in the 30’s and 40’s. Uncle Red was a rabid fan and when Jackie Robinson played for the Brooklyn Dodgers he attended practically every game taking me to quite a few. At the time, St. Louis had the Browns in the American league and the Cardinals in the National league. They both played at Sportsman’s Park, on a schedule that allowed each league to have long game stands, at least a week at a time, based on their travel rotation. They had “knot hole” days, where kids got in free with a red pass for the Cardinals and a brown pass for the Browns. Though the park was segregated , we went to see the likes of Ted William and Joe DiMaggio when they were in town. When the Dodger’s came to town it was a big event, buses from Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, and Louisiana, bringing Blacks from all over the south c to see Jackie Robinson play. My uncle would drop me off so I could stand in line for tickets and come back later when I neared the front to pay for the ttickets.. The city just throbbed with crowds of Blacks filling the city with palpable energy. At the park, Blacks were confined to an area in right field behind a screened bleacher called “the pavilion”, which one famous radio announcer, Harry Carey, frequently referred to as the “sable sea”
I saw many a game and met most of the ball players when Newcomb and Campanella joined the Dodgers, since they ate at the Deluxe Restaurant where we usually ate.
Since I ran out of things to do after several weeks , Uncle Red, decided to send me to River Cliff a YMCA summer camp. The camp season was divided into 8 periods that were ten days each. The first year I stayed two periods and took to camp like a duck to water. I loved it
My introduction to the Pine Street YMCA and Camp River Cliff was Uncle Red dropping me off at the Y at 6 AM to join a group of scruffy boys, ages 10 to 16 standing next to a pile of duffle bags. Parked at the curb, engine idleling, was a tarp covered truck with slated sides, the kind you haul cattle in;. this was our transportation. Mr Cook, the Y’s director, a short pudgy man directed the loading. Once we were all loaded and seated aboard about 30 of us, the tail gate was secured, and off we went like cattle. The camp was near a town called Bourbon, MO about 80 miles SW of St. Louis in the foothills of the Ozark mountains.
To this day, I can remember the smallest details of the lay out of River Cliff. It was bordered by a creek that partially circled it on the West and South; a sloping tree filled hill on the North with the Merramac River intersecting the creek to the East. Twelve cabins lined a path at the foot of the wooded hill. Each cabin held 10 boys and a cabin leader and asst cabin leader.
On a knoll near the entrance was a dining hall and cabins for the staff and an outdoor chapel.( where we use to sing “ the Old Rugged Cross”). Out in the middle of the camp was an outhouse building, knick named the KYBO (keep your bowels open) which each cabin rotated cleaning. Yuck!
Of all the creatures on earth kids can be the cruelest especially when naming someone with a physical disability. There was a boy “nub” had one hand, “double nub” both hands missing, both could bat and field a baseball. Also there was “one hung low” missing one leg who could swim like a dolphin.
Everyone had nicknames, Blubber, Hardhead, Rabbit, Chipmonk, Jimmy J, Big Dog, Poot Eye, Sissy Joe and I was Lil’ Abner ( because I always wore combat boots )
In the years, I went to camp there were a slew of street gangs in St. Louis ( Counts, Rats, Termites, Hawks, etc) but there was an unwritten pact that all beefs were on hold at camp. And over time friendships developed that helped defuse some of the long time gang wars.
I learned to swim really well and went from novice to master camper over a couple of years, staying the whole season, eventually becoming a lifeguard and cabin leader at age 15. Years later when I moved to St Louis to do my medical training some of my old camp mates kept me safe in some touchy situations I encountered.
We had a camp song that went:
“Campmates stand together, be a friend to all. Thru fair or stormy weather we’re there to help you if you fall. If you have to take a lickin carry on and quit your bitchin campmates at your call”
River Cliff was very primitive, we washed in the cold creek and rinsed off in the warmer river. I learned the species of birds, plants and trees, also how to row a boat and paddle a canoe, swim a mile and gig frogs as well as cook them. I guess a lot of independence I developed came from my days at camp.
One of the best experiences was at the end of camp when the counselors, cabin leaders and Directors, would take the canoes back to St. Louis. This was a four day river trip down the Merramac river to the Mississippi where the canoes were loaded up for storage. We camped at night on sand bars, shot rapids and had our share of spills. These are cherished memories that writing this have helped me recall.
Going to the Y and being at camp did not make life always safe in the streets of St. Louis.
One summer night I was with Blubber and Jimmy J in a variety store, both of them were "Hawk" gang members. In walked five "Counts". Blubber said “grab a bottle swing on somebody and run”. We broke out the screen door they in hot pursuit, we split. I took off down an alley and had a good lead when I heard shots and felt a searing pain in my left calf. I lived on the other side of town and had to catch a trolley home. This was during WW II and the trolley only stopped every other block. So I was running beside one beating on the side still being chased until it finally stopped and I jumped on, the motorman started off quickly leaving the gang behind. I looked down and blood was streaming thru a hole in my pant leg. I pulled up my jeans and saw I had a tear thru my calf. I pulled the jeans back over the wound and held it. The bleeding finally stopped. Back at my Uncles Red’s I slipped in the bath room and having seen far too many western’s where they poured liquor in gun shots. I figured I needed to put alcohol on it, it damn near killed me but I poured some shaving lotion in the wound. and wrapped it with a handkerchief. It healed fine and I never told anyone until later in life about this incident. The jeans I hid in the trash can and tried to sleep away my close call.
I saw many a game and met most of the ball players when Newcomb and Campanella joined the Dodgers, since they ate at the Deluxe Restaurant where we usually ate.
Since I ran out of things to do after several weeks , Uncle Red, decided to send me to River Cliff a YMCA summer camp. The camp season was divided into 8 periods that were ten days each. The first year I stayed two periods and took to camp like a duck to water. I loved it
My introduction to the Pine Street YMCA and Camp River Cliff was Uncle Red dropping me off at the Y at 6 AM to join a group of scruffy boys, ages 10 to 16 standing next to a pile of duffle bags. Parked at the curb, engine idleling, was a tarp covered truck with slated sides, the kind you haul cattle in;. this was our transportation. Mr Cook, the Y’s director, a short pudgy man directed the loading. Once we were all loaded and seated aboard about 30 of us, the tail gate was secured, and off we went like cattle. The camp was near a town called Bourbon, MO about 80 miles SW of St. Louis in the foothills of the Ozark mountains.
To this day, I can remember the smallest details of the lay out of River Cliff. It was bordered by a creek that partially circled it on the West and South; a sloping tree filled hill on the North with the Merramac River intersecting the creek to the East. Twelve cabins lined a path at the foot of the wooded hill. Each cabin held 10 boys and a cabin leader and asst cabin leader.
On a knoll near the entrance was a dining hall and cabins for the staff and an outdoor chapel.( where we use to sing “ the Old Rugged Cross”). Out in the middle of the camp was an outhouse building, knick named the KYBO (keep your bowels open) which each cabin rotated cleaning. Yuck!
Of all the creatures on earth kids can be the cruelest especially when naming someone with a physical disability. There was a boy “nub” had one hand, “double nub” both hands missing, both could bat and field a baseball. Also there was “one hung low” missing one leg who could swim like a dolphin.
Everyone had nicknames, Blubber, Hardhead, Rabbit, Chipmonk, Jimmy J, Big Dog, Poot Eye, Sissy Joe and I was Lil’ Abner ( because I always wore combat boots )
In the years, I went to camp there were a slew of street gangs in St. Louis ( Counts, Rats, Termites, Hawks, etc) but there was an unwritten pact that all beefs were on hold at camp. And over time friendships developed that helped defuse some of the long time gang wars.
I learned to swim really well and went from novice to master camper over a couple of years, staying the whole season, eventually becoming a lifeguard and cabin leader at age 15. Years later when I moved to St Louis to do my medical training some of my old camp mates kept me safe in some touchy situations I encountered.
We had a camp song that went:
“Campmates stand together, be a friend to all. Thru fair or stormy weather we’re there to help you if you fall. If you have to take a lickin carry on and quit your bitchin campmates at your call”
River Cliff was very primitive, we washed in the cold creek and rinsed off in the warmer river. I learned the species of birds, plants and trees, also how to row a boat and paddle a canoe, swim a mile and gig frogs as well as cook them. I guess a lot of independence I developed came from my days at camp.
One of the best experiences was at the end of camp when the counselors, cabin leaders and Directors, would take the canoes back to St. Louis. This was a four day river trip down the Merramac river to the Mississippi where the canoes were loaded up for storage. We camped at night on sand bars, shot rapids and had our share of spills. These are cherished memories that writing this have helped me recall.
Going to the Y and being at camp did not make life always safe in the streets of St. Louis.
One summer night I was with Blubber and Jimmy J in a variety store, both of them were "Hawk" gang members. In walked five "Counts". Blubber said “grab a bottle swing on somebody and run”. We broke out the screen door they in hot pursuit, we split. I took off down an alley and had a good lead when I heard shots and felt a searing pain in my left calf. I lived on the other side of town and had to catch a trolley home. This was during WW II and the trolley only stopped every other block. So I was running beside one beating on the side still being chased until it finally stopped and I jumped on, the motorman started off quickly leaving the gang behind. I looked down and blood was streaming thru a hole in my pant leg. I pulled up my jeans and saw I had a tear thru my calf. I pulled the jeans back over the wound and held it. The bleeding finally stopped. Back at my Uncles Red’s I slipped in the bath room and having seen far too many western’s where they poured liquor in gun shots. I figured I needed to put alcohol on it, it damn near killed me but I poured some shaving lotion in the wound. and wrapped it with a handkerchief. It healed fine and I never told anyone until later in life about this incident. The jeans I hid in the trash can and tried to sleep away my close call.
City boys on the farm
Living in Evansville didn’t offer me much to do in the summer except chores like putting in screens, painting the fence or cutting the lawn. My Aunt Mad was a close friend of Anna Julian, she and her husband Percy the famous chemist had a farm in Greencastle, In. So one summer, they invited me along with two other boys to spend some time on their farm. I was to stay at the farm for about 3 weeks and then go up to Maywood, Il so I could experience Chicago.
The Julian’s farm was mostly a retreat for him though he had “Mr. Jim” his "walk around man" who farmed some of the land and grew a garden for him
All of us were city boys, Charles was from Maywood and Leonard was from Glencoe.
Charles and I immediately hit it off, but Leonard was a prick, very spoiled and obnoxious. So we pretty much excluded him from every thing. We all arrived on a Friday and Dr Julian made a list of chores for us to do for the week. He would go back to Maywood on Sunday night returning every weekend.
The house was built like a log cabin and we boys were in a loft and at night Leonard would ask Mrs Julian to make him a glass of hot milk so he could sleep. You can imagine how that went over with us who thought he was a sissy.
One of our chores was to cut the lawn and he would seldom finish his portion making us have to get it done.
They had a cook and she showed us how to wring a chicken’s neck which we took delight in doing. Leonard was scared of the chicken and ended up strangling we ended up fighting with me trying to grab it from him.
The farm was situated on some beautiful land and one of the things Charles and I wanted to do was ride a horse around the farm. There were three old horses that kind of stayed in a pasture but had no real function.
One day Charles and I put a halter on one of them and bareback we rode him out to the woods. While trying to make him go down a ravine and he kept shying and fell. Luckily he didn’t crush us. He lay there so we ran to get Mr .Jim. He came and saw that the horses’ leg was broken and asked what had we done, we told him that he wouldn’t go down the slope. He said “damn he’s blind in his right eye “. So he had to call the Vet who put him down. When Dr Julian came on the weekend we were in deep trouble. He laid down the law to us, Leonard grinning at our punishment since he was not a party to the accident. “ GodDamn it, no more messing with the horses, they’re old and you boys stay away from the other two”.
He left Sunday for Chicago, giving us his list of chores. One was to sweep out the barn. While out there we found a machine that you put ears of corn through and it would shuck the kernels. It was so neat to do, we filled a wash tub full of kernels. Thinking that a horse, that was in the barn wanted some, we dragged the tub into his stall. He ate the whole tub full of corn and the next day his stomach was hanging almost to the ground. Mr Jim had to call the Vet and he said the horse had “bloat” and after doing something with a hose in the horse rectum that didn't work he put the horse down.
When Dr Julian came that weekend he was livid and I believe if we had been his kids and his wife hadn’t been there we would have been put down too.
We had one more week to stay and things were pretty uneventful but we still hadn’t ridden a horse. So Charles and I prevailed on Mr. Jim to let us ride the remaining horse who was actually an old work horse who had pulled wagons. We were to ride him slowly across the pasture and back. We mounted up and after walking him out a ways shouted “ YAHOO ” and slapped him on his butt. He ran about three steps and started foaming from the nose and mouth then pitched forward and dropped dead.
When Dr Julian returned for that weekend there was only silence in the house even Mrs Julian didn’t dare say a word. I was ready to go home not on to Chicago for another week.
Dr Julian was a man of precision and habit and when he came to the farm he brought a brief case filled with work and when he would leave he always put the briefcase beside his left leg in the car.
We were all packed to leave at about 5 pm and his routine was to drive to Kentland, IN about 2hours away have dinner at the Greyhound bus station then proceed to Chicago. He hadn’t said a word to us boys but that night we had heard him cussing to his wife something fierce.
We zoomed off, he had a big black Packard, with us lined up on the back seat like the see no, hear no, speak no evil monkeys saying NOTHING. He flew down the highway at 80 miles an hour reaching Kentland about a 2 hr drive in no time. As we all piled out of the car, he said “ Anna where is my briefcase?” she replied “Percy you ALWAYS put it in the car yourself”. He had forgotten the briefcase and he was livid and yelled “GOD DAMN IT, GET BACK IN THE CAR” We took off back to Greencastle being driven even faster. Once he retrieved it we sped back, flying past Kentland having wasted about 5 hrs.
Now here is where this get’s good. No one has had a rest stop from Greencastle to Kentland back to Greencastle pass Kentland on to Chicago. So on this race towards Chicago we smell a terrible odor and it’s coming from Leonard. He had been afraid to tell Dr Julian he had to go and had shit his pants. So Dr Julian pulled over, made him throw away his drawers wipe with some weeds and we had to ride with him all the way to Chicago with the window rolled down. It’s a good thing it was summer. Guess what? Later in life, Dr Percy Julian wrote letters of recommendation for me when I applied to medical school. I guess I turned into something of value he could attest to.
My stay in Maywood had some interesting twists that Charles and I experienced; more of that a little later.
The Julian’s farm was mostly a retreat for him though he had “Mr. Jim” his "walk around man" who farmed some of the land and grew a garden for him
All of us were city boys, Charles was from Maywood and Leonard was from Glencoe.
Charles and I immediately hit it off, but Leonard was a prick, very spoiled and obnoxious. So we pretty much excluded him from every thing. We all arrived on a Friday and Dr Julian made a list of chores for us to do for the week. He would go back to Maywood on Sunday night returning every weekend.
The house was built like a log cabin and we boys were in a loft and at night Leonard would ask Mrs Julian to make him a glass of hot milk so he could sleep. You can imagine how that went over with us who thought he was a sissy.
One of our chores was to cut the lawn and he would seldom finish his portion making us have to get it done.
They had a cook and she showed us how to wring a chicken’s neck which we took delight in doing. Leonard was scared of the chicken and ended up strangling we ended up fighting with me trying to grab it from him.
The farm was situated on some beautiful land and one of the things Charles and I wanted to do was ride a horse around the farm. There were three old horses that kind of stayed in a pasture but had no real function.
One day Charles and I put a halter on one of them and bareback we rode him out to the woods. While trying to make him go down a ravine and he kept shying and fell. Luckily he didn’t crush us. He lay there so we ran to get Mr .Jim. He came and saw that the horses’ leg was broken and asked what had we done, we told him that he wouldn’t go down the slope. He said “damn he’s blind in his right eye “. So he had to call the Vet who put him down. When Dr Julian came on the weekend we were in deep trouble. He laid down the law to us, Leonard grinning at our punishment since he was not a party to the accident. “ GodDamn it, no more messing with the horses, they’re old and you boys stay away from the other two”.
He left Sunday for Chicago, giving us his list of chores. One was to sweep out the barn. While out there we found a machine that you put ears of corn through and it would shuck the kernels. It was so neat to do, we filled a wash tub full of kernels. Thinking that a horse, that was in the barn wanted some, we dragged the tub into his stall. He ate the whole tub full of corn and the next day his stomach was hanging almost to the ground. Mr Jim had to call the Vet and he said the horse had “bloat” and after doing something with a hose in the horse rectum that didn't work he put the horse down.
When Dr Julian came that weekend he was livid and I believe if we had been his kids and his wife hadn’t been there we would have been put down too.
We had one more week to stay and things were pretty uneventful but we still hadn’t ridden a horse. So Charles and I prevailed on Mr. Jim to let us ride the remaining horse who was actually an old work horse who had pulled wagons. We were to ride him slowly across the pasture and back. We mounted up and after walking him out a ways shouted “ YAHOO ” and slapped him on his butt. He ran about three steps and started foaming from the nose and mouth then pitched forward and dropped dead.
When Dr Julian returned for that weekend there was only silence in the house even Mrs Julian didn’t dare say a word. I was ready to go home not on to Chicago for another week.
Dr Julian was a man of precision and habit and when he came to the farm he brought a brief case filled with work and when he would leave he always put the briefcase beside his left leg in the car.
We were all packed to leave at about 5 pm and his routine was to drive to Kentland, IN about 2hours away have dinner at the Greyhound bus station then proceed to Chicago. He hadn’t said a word to us boys but that night we had heard him cussing to his wife something fierce.
We zoomed off, he had a big black Packard, with us lined up on the back seat like the see no, hear no, speak no evil monkeys saying NOTHING. He flew down the highway at 80 miles an hour reaching Kentland about a 2 hr drive in no time. As we all piled out of the car, he said “ Anna where is my briefcase?” she replied “Percy you ALWAYS put it in the car yourself”. He had forgotten the briefcase and he was livid and yelled “GOD DAMN IT, GET BACK IN THE CAR” We took off back to Greencastle being driven even faster. Once he retrieved it we sped back, flying past Kentland having wasted about 5 hrs.
Now here is where this get’s good. No one has had a rest stop from Greencastle to Kentland back to Greencastle pass Kentland on to Chicago. So on this race towards Chicago we smell a terrible odor and it’s coming from Leonard. He had been afraid to tell Dr Julian he had to go and had shit his pants. So Dr Julian pulled over, made him throw away his drawers wipe with some weeds and we had to ride with him all the way to Chicago with the window rolled down. It’s a good thing it was summer. Guess what? Later in life, Dr Percy Julian wrote letters of recommendation for me when I applied to medical school. I guess I turned into something of value he could attest to.
My stay in Maywood had some interesting twists that Charles and I experienced; more of that a little later.
Story of St. John's Catholic Church and School
Evansville, IN had a very small black Catholic population in the 1920’s and ‘30’s and they had to worship in a basement auditorium of the Assumption Cathedral.
In the early 1940’s, Mary Fendrichs Hulman heir to the Fendrichs Cigar Co and the wife of Tony Hulman owner of Clabber Girl Baking Co and who would later own the Indianapolis Speedway, was patron for construction of the church dedicated as a memorial to her mother, because many of the Black members were employees at their factory.
The dioceses sent a young priest, Father Hermann Mootz a recent graduate of St Meinrad Seminary in the southern part of Indiana, to pastor the flock
It so happened the lot my father had purchased was next door to the Churches properties And almost simultaneously our house and parish house as well as the church was built. Soon after their completion an elementary school was built on the remaining land.
Because the church was just next door, I was invited to attend mass by a friend whose family numbered 26 children and were devote Catholics. I became enamored by the rituals and mystery of the service. I had been baptized Episcopalian and there was no place in Evansville for my parents to worship. I decided to join St. John as did Ernest, my friend, after taking catechism instructions from Father Mootz. Soon after, we became his altar boys as well as errand boys. A set of twins around our age from the large family I was fiends with were altars boys too.
My parents and Aunt Mad soon became converts probably because of me and their liking for Father.
Once the elementary school was built a score of kids from Lincoln wanted to enroll in St. John’s because they thought the nuns and Father would be soft, WRONG! After the first week most scrambled back to Lincoln, when the Catholic way became the only way to be in St John’s. Ear twisting, paddling and suspension was the punishment for the slightest infraction. I was in the seventh grade and didn’t transfer finishing my grade school courses at Lincoln.
Now an interesting thing happened, my mother wanted me to go to Reitz Memorial High School, a Catholic school in Evansville, where no Blacks had attended. Father Mootz’s cousin, Archbishop Ritter, was Bishop of the Indianapolis Dioceses and southern Indiana and had recently integrated the school system their. As I have reflected over the years, I believe my mother intentionally became Catholic to gain me entrance into a school that could afford me a better education. I knew the Bishop from occasional vacation trips he made to visit Father and I had served mass and at times drinks in the parish house on some of those visits.
Father sent me out to Memorial to register. They refused to enroll me and sent me home forthwith: the reason being I had not attended a Catholic grade school…. the real reason being that was I was Black and some parents did not want to integrate the school. Remember St. John’s had just been built and I was almost finished with grade school so finishing grade school at St. John’s was not an option. Father sent me back with that explanation and I was again refused. He then called the Archbishop who issued a proclamation that anyone objecting to my admission would face the possibility of excommunication. I was sent back again and was admitted and graduated. The Archbishop and my path cross later in life, but that is another story. When my father gave up his private practice in Evansville in 1965, my parents had years before given the church first option to buy our house and an adjoining lot. The church bought the house and turned it into the nuns quarters and they donated the lot to them for future expansion.
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