I applied to 4 medical schools my last year of college in the following order,
Indiana, Howard, Meharry and Cornel and was accepted by all. I chose Indiana over the others because I was a resident of the state and the in state cost; the tuition was ridiculously less than Cornel. Also if I had gone to either Howard or Meharry I might have taken the slot from a fellow Black student that wouldn’t be accepted at the white schools. Indiana had a quota and they only admitted 3 Blacks 3 women and 6 Jews a year, this continued to exist well into the 1970’s.
Indiana is a state that has only one medical school even to this day and in 1953 the first year was on the Bloomington, IN campus. This put you in with the undergraduate student body with all those distractions. Southern Indiana was very prejudice, in fact, there is a town, Martinsville, on the way from Bloomington to Indianapolis that was a Klu Klux Klan strong hold and one of the Black undergrads was in an auto crash. He died because the hospital there would not treat him. So travel to and from IU was always cautious and limited our social radius Fortunately, I had housing in a graduate dorm complex that was isolated from the main campus and managed to find some activities that weren’t just all study.
One of the first people I became friends with was a guy named Suggs, a freshman dental student who had gone to IU as an undergrad and knew his way around the campus .I was looking for where to hang out. And before even registering for med school, we went to an after hour club called the “Elks”with a couple of undergrad under age coeds and got in a fight because someone punched him about some girl. And I jumped on the guy who had knocked him to the floor leading to a free for all that ended in the bartender putting everyone out before the police came. Luckily we didn’t get arrested and put out of school before we began. This incident bonded us and we have been tight ever since.
The first year was on the semester system and the following 3 years were spent at the Indiana University Medical Center in Indianapolis on the quarter system. The classes were year around so the clinical services would be covered in the junior and senior year. The students were divided into fourths with one fourth being out of school in any quarter for vacation.
The first year basic courses like gross anatomy and physiology were 2 semesters long and histology and some smaller subjects were 1 semester long. Everyone was given a summer vacation if they passed if not a summer course was offered to make up any failure
I have always believed that medical school is hard not because the subjects are especially difficult but because you are expected to know everything in a book and in a lecture, even footnotes. Everyone admitted to the school is smart but the sheer volume of material overwhelms some and the attrition rate can be rather high especially when the grading is on a curve and you fall on the far side of the bell curve.
The first anatomy exam was an eye opener for the entire class especially when the grades were posted; it became sphincter tightener. Everyone even the Phi Beta Kappa’s felt they had done well. As I recall, the highest grade was 68 and fell like a ski slope to some in a single digit!
On top of that our professors though most PhD’s all had a hard on for medical students since none were MD’s and were jealous of the financial rewards that awaited those of us who managed to survived their courses to graduate as MD’s
And years later when the medical school consolidated to the Indianapolis campus the basic science professors were required to have duel degrees to remove this prejudicial acrimony.
There was a real racial divide beside the quota for admission that excluded the Black students from any study group. The whites had medical fraternities that had files of old exams going back 40 or so years that helped them in their study groups. We only had random old exams that a few of us passed down but these were seldom effective in helping us on tests, since they were not typed or collated in any way as the frat exams. Occasionally a white colleague would share a subject like a gross anatomy old exam with their study group. But basically it became cut throat. There was one of my fellow three Blacks whose brother had passed down his exams to him and he would not share them with us. That’s pretty cold! And I never have forgotten that. Some people are born chicken shit.
After the shock of how hard and detailed the courses would be we all settled into a mode that was riddled with anxiety and fear. Professors had idiosyncrasies that you would not believe.
In physiology, a major course, Dr H lectured from a stack of faded 3X5 index cards that he had been using since graduating from Harvard years before. He had studied under the infamous Dr Canon who was renowned for his work on the decerebrated cat who he constantly reminded us of.
Dr H talked with a high pitched whinny voice who sniffed and snorted as he talked and never looked up from his note cards. One lecture went thus “if you cut the bagus nerve and stimulate the afferent fibers such and such will happen to the heart”. The proper word was vagus but in my notes I took down bagus and not finding that in the text assumed that this was a special nerve. Since I had no old exams to steer me, I committed the lecture word as the right word for the test. When I got back my blue book with ”F” I went to his office to find out how I had gotten all my answers wrong. He looked at my blue book and hurled it across the room, exclaiming “ Robinson you are probably the dumbest student I have ever had, what in the hell is the “Bagus nerve”?. “It’s the (Vagus nerve)”. Needless to say I had to repeat the course with a bunch of my classmates that summer. There are other anecdotes in the other years that if I hadn’t been determined I would have ended like many dropping out. Those were some tough times and as I write, I wonder how the students of today would fair, probably better since harassment is now not permitted, at least, knowingly. This was my first year of medical school and I knew that it wouldn’t be easy and that I faced racism from my professors and fellow students; yet I was not going to allow that to
keep me from graduating. I have always been able to speak my mind and at times that got me in trouble but I demanded respect and in the end I got it.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Evansville College
When I transferred to Evansville College, now known as University of Evansville, in the spring of 1952 I had completed practically all of my required credits for graduation so my courses were basically biology and a course in physics. Because I was so close to finishing, the Professor of Microbiology made me a student lab instructor for his courses.
One of the classes consisted of student nurses from a local hospital.
On the first day of lab, I introduced myself and began giving a lecture on the lab and certain rules and procedures I expected to be followed. I began “ if you young ladies will now pull open your drawers and look……” right then I realized what I had asked these 40 some young women to do and started cracking up. You can imagine I got no respect that quarter from that class of nurses. It was probably worse since they were all white and I was Black but what the heck nothing ever came of it.
The Chairmen of the department was truly a character who not only loved to teach but was a gourmand who invited his favorite students monthly to exotic dinners at his home. That is where I had my first taste of escargots and steak tartare’ also, chocolate covered grasshoppers and crème brule’ .Dr Dunham never had a student that he wrote a recommendation for ever not accepted at Indiana University School of Medicine. I was one of those that kept his record spotless. In fact, when I went for my interview they told me right at the time I was accepted while some applicants from other schools had to await their fate by mail. Remember, I was the only Black in the Biology Department and there were only a hand- full of us in the school in general. So one thing I have always maintained was that Dr Dunham was fair.
One interesting event happened in my senior year. During the summer session we got a call from the local zoo that a tiger had died and did we have any use for it. Another lab assistant and I drove out to the zoo to take a look. We didn’t know what to expect so we took a dissecting kit with some large knives to see if we could skin it and display the hide.
What we saw on arrival was a dead tiger that was so old that his fur looked like a moth eaten blanket and the only thing resembling the tiger that it was, was the head. We puzzled what could we do so we decided to cut off the head and take it back to school and see if we could figure how to preserve the skull. First we skinned it and then put it in a large ceramic lab crock and boil the flesh off, which took several days. We couldn’t get all of the cavities as clean as we wanted so we took it up on the roof of the science building and laid it out on a tarp in the sun so the flies could lay maggots on it to eat the flesh, remember we were biology majors . After about 4 weeks, it was pretty much cleaned out and we then boiled it in bleach and put back in the sun. What we got for all our effort was an old tiger head that I think may still sit in a display case somewhere showing a gaping mouth of broken, rotted and missing teeth in fearsome snarl . Other than the graduation ceremony which I remember because my little brother graduated from kindergarten that same day I have a picture of us both in our cap and gown, Evansville College is a distant memory of a stepping stone in my life.
One of the classes consisted of student nurses from a local hospital.
On the first day of lab, I introduced myself and began giving a lecture on the lab and certain rules and procedures I expected to be followed. I began “ if you young ladies will now pull open your drawers and look……” right then I realized what I had asked these 40 some young women to do and started cracking up. You can imagine I got no respect that quarter from that class of nurses. It was probably worse since they were all white and I was Black but what the heck nothing ever came of it.
The Chairmen of the department was truly a character who not only loved to teach but was a gourmand who invited his favorite students monthly to exotic dinners at his home. That is where I had my first taste of escargots and steak tartare’ also, chocolate covered grasshoppers and crème brule’ .Dr Dunham never had a student that he wrote a recommendation for ever not accepted at Indiana University School of Medicine. I was one of those that kept his record spotless. In fact, when I went for my interview they told me right at the time I was accepted while some applicants from other schools had to await their fate by mail. Remember, I was the only Black in the Biology Department and there were only a hand- full of us in the school in general. So one thing I have always maintained was that Dr Dunham was fair.
One interesting event happened in my senior year. During the summer session we got a call from the local zoo that a tiger had died and did we have any use for it. Another lab assistant and I drove out to the zoo to take a look. We didn’t know what to expect so we took a dissecting kit with some large knives to see if we could skin it and display the hide.
What we saw on arrival was a dead tiger that was so old that his fur looked like a moth eaten blanket and the only thing resembling the tiger that it was, was the head. We puzzled what could we do so we decided to cut off the head and take it back to school and see if we could figure how to preserve the skull. First we skinned it and then put it in a large ceramic lab crock and boil the flesh off, which took several days. We couldn’t get all of the cavities as clean as we wanted so we took it up on the roof of the science building and laid it out on a tarp in the sun so the flies could lay maggots on it to eat the flesh, remember we were biology majors . After about 4 weeks, it was pretty much cleaned out and we then boiled it in bleach and put back in the sun. What we got for all our effort was an old tiger head that I think may still sit in a display case somewhere showing a gaping mouth of broken, rotted and missing teeth in fearsome snarl . Other than the graduation ceremony which I remember because my little brother graduated from kindergarten that same day I have a picture of us both in our cap and gown, Evansville College is a distant memory of a stepping stone in my life.
DC and Howard
DC and Howard University (Part 2)
The first year at Howard was filled with a myriad of experiences from learning the idiosyncrasies of professors like “Dr F” to finding places to eat cheap like “ The Greasy Spoon” where for 75 cents you could get (sausage, bacon, 2 eggs, 8 hot cakes, fried apples, grits and gravy , milk and juice). And since one of the waitresses liked Bobby we never paid when she served us.
One of the things I remember most is pledging a fraternity. I wasn’t really interested in the Greek life but decided to join along with my new best friend Bobby. The pledges duties were pretty tame, things like running errands, getting girls dorm addresses, doing scut work for “big brother”, memorizing the members names, learning the Greek alphabet and frat history All this was a nuisance but we did it since it really wasn’t that bad. .Then one night we were told to be at Ladroit Park housing project just off campus. One of my sponsors “Big Eddie” told me it was going to be a little hazing session. We were all put in one room blindfolded and then taken one at a time to another room . We could hear loud noises like a board hitting a rug followed by screams. When I got in the room, “Big Eddie” whispered to me to bend over grab your nuts because they were really hitting a pillow with a paddle and when I heard the blow… scream! I did as instructed and all of a sudden I was hit on my ass by a blow that almost knocked me to my knees. I was so shocked by the blow I couldn’t make a sound at first. Then some one said two more to go. Right then I said to myself “ is this bullshit for me”. I took my other licks and went back to the dorm where we massaged each other asses which by then had turned black, blue and purple. There were a few “Big Brothers” that were known to be sadistic and took pleasure in some hazing that bordered on criminal especially with pledges. Bobby and I decided to rectify this in a special way. One night we spotted one of the biggest offenders coming out of the women’s dorm and hid along their path and when he reached us we snatched him into the bushes and whipped his ass. No one knew who had done this deed but it put the frat on notice that some renegades existed. We both decided that we did not want to be part of the any fraternity that took pleasure in humiliating their “brothers”, so we set up a plan that would get us black balled.
To be initiated into the frat, there was a ritual that existed in which the group that was to go over the “burning sands” was to be taken out to a rural area in Maryland and left on a deserted highway at night; and if they found their way back early enough they would have extra time to rest before “turn back night”, which was the final hazing and consisted of multiple degrading acts and brutal beatings.
The initiates were taken by truck miles away from the campus and let out on the pitch black highway and had to find their way back. The pledges job was to assist in finding them and getting them back on campus.
Bobby and I, set up a recovery plan that was so successful the initiates were back on campus almost before the “Big Brothers” who dropped them off.. We had a truck available to pick them up and then we called the State Police , telling them that there were about 20 “colored boys” that were part of a fraternity prank out on a road somewhere in the county and could they tell us where they were and we would pick them up.When we got the call about there location, we rushed to recover them and had them back on campus in a couple hours, saving them from an all night ordeal.
When the “Big Brothers” found out it was Bobby and my plan we were summarily black balled..
The first year I didn’t go home at Xmas like most of the students, I was so happy to be away from Evansville that just being in the dorm was with a few others guys was great. We all got jobs at the Post Office as Xmas subs and earned enough to eat and party. One night I was working on the canceling machine and dozed off and ran my fingers thru it,
the pain was so bad I thought I had cut them off but when I looked they were stamped Dec 15. 1949 Washington, D.C. in a perfect crescent..
Because of some raucous behavior I was not allowed back in Cook Hall the second year and was assigned to the Vet Dorms. This was like putting bre’r rabbit in the briar patch. There were about 6 or 7 of us in a dorm with WW II vets in their 20’s who were there on the GI bill. There was drinking, gambling and hustling that went on at all times. I roomed with “Big Eddie” who was on the football team and had a double major of math and music. So our room was always a meeting place. We even had Albie, the team quarter back, who had flunked out of school but couldn’t go home…. sleeping on dirty clothes in our closet at night.
To survive we had various ways to make money. One thing we did was park cars when the Washington Redskins played at Griffith Stadium which was down the hill from Howard. This entailed 3 people , 1 signaled cars to the street the dorms were on, 2 took the money and 3 directed the parking. This was haphazard at best and when they returned from the game sometimes it took hours for them to free the grid lock ‘cause we had split! We charged 3 dollars and maybe parked 40 or more cars on the lot. Forty some dollars a piece ain’t bad for an hour’s work.
Another job that was fruitful during the holidays was working in the kitchen at the Washington Hilton for banquets. We usually were either bus boys or dish washers, this gave us access to food (whole turkeys, prime steaks ) that we wrapped and secreted in garbage containers and sneaked pass security in the dumb waiter to feast on later. Sometimes we even managed a few partially filled bottles of wine. You can imagine our bunch on the street car back to campus whoopin it up, knowing we would be eating good back in the dorm. On one occasion “Big Eddie” who played bass fiddle got a gig with Billie Holiday for 2 weeks at the Blue Note when her bassist got sick and made like $400 bucks….. it was one gets, all share and we lived it up. The friendships I had then with these guys were closer than any frat .I could ever join.
I guess one wonders what about classes and grades, since we were doing all this hustling and partying. Some of us passed and some of us failed but I managed to survive. I always took a heavy load in the winter quarter so I could coast in the spring.
I also was on the swim team and had some interesting experiences. One that stands out the most was a trip we took to compete against Tennessee State in Nashville, TN.
There were 15 of us plus the coach who we called “skipper” on the trip. We left DC on a Greyhound bus seated at random. When we got to Bristol, TN for a rest and food stop, we changed drivers. This was the Mason-Dixon line and the new driver shouted as we reboarded “ I want those niggers from that school to go to the back of the bus”. Now here we are 15 Black kids in the prime of our lives able to whip every one in the bus station and the driver, but we have no win here our lives weren’t worth a dime.. So we grumble cursed and fumed about sitting in the back but what could we do.. We were about 30 miles outside of Nashville when “Skipper” pulled the signal cord for the driver to stop and asked to relieve himself. As soon as he got off, the driver pulls away and leaves him. We had to ride into Nashville and get the Tennessee State coach to go back with a couple of us to find our coach. These were unbelievable times and I still recall them with anger
During my days at Howard, Washington was mostly segregated but because foreign dignitaries abounded the access to some places was open to Africans students; what we would do on weekends was to borrow our African friend’s robes. Then we would visit various embassies which always had elegant parties and fake our way in fo eat and drink; we also we managed to integrate the Dupont Theater this way..
I left Howard and transferred to Evansville College in the spring of 1952 for family reasons and graduated from there with my BS degree, but my experiences at Howard were unforgettable
The first year at Howard was filled with a myriad of experiences from learning the idiosyncrasies of professors like “Dr F” to finding places to eat cheap like “ The Greasy Spoon” where for 75 cents you could get (sausage, bacon, 2 eggs, 8 hot cakes, fried apples, grits and gravy , milk and juice). And since one of the waitresses liked Bobby we never paid when she served us.
One of the things I remember most is pledging a fraternity. I wasn’t really interested in the Greek life but decided to join along with my new best friend Bobby. The pledges duties were pretty tame, things like running errands, getting girls dorm addresses, doing scut work for “big brother”, memorizing the members names, learning the Greek alphabet and frat history All this was a nuisance but we did it since it really wasn’t that bad. .Then one night we were told to be at Ladroit Park housing project just off campus. One of my sponsors “Big Eddie” told me it was going to be a little hazing session. We were all put in one room blindfolded and then taken one at a time to another room . We could hear loud noises like a board hitting a rug followed by screams. When I got in the room, “Big Eddie” whispered to me to bend over grab your nuts because they were really hitting a pillow with a paddle and when I heard the blow… scream! I did as instructed and all of a sudden I was hit on my ass by a blow that almost knocked me to my knees. I was so shocked by the blow I couldn’t make a sound at first. Then some one said two more to go. Right then I said to myself “ is this bullshit for me”. I took my other licks and went back to the dorm where we massaged each other asses which by then had turned black, blue and purple. There were a few “Big Brothers” that were known to be sadistic and took pleasure in some hazing that bordered on criminal especially with pledges. Bobby and I decided to rectify this in a special way. One night we spotted one of the biggest offenders coming out of the women’s dorm and hid along their path and when he reached us we snatched him into the bushes and whipped his ass. No one knew who had done this deed but it put the frat on notice that some renegades existed. We both decided that we did not want to be part of the any fraternity that took pleasure in humiliating their “brothers”, so we set up a plan that would get us black balled.
To be initiated into the frat, there was a ritual that existed in which the group that was to go over the “burning sands” was to be taken out to a rural area in Maryland and left on a deserted highway at night; and if they found their way back early enough they would have extra time to rest before “turn back night”, which was the final hazing and consisted of multiple degrading acts and brutal beatings.
The initiates were taken by truck miles away from the campus and let out on the pitch black highway and had to find their way back. The pledges job was to assist in finding them and getting them back on campus.
Bobby and I, set up a recovery plan that was so successful the initiates were back on campus almost before the “Big Brothers” who dropped them off.. We had a truck available to pick them up and then we called the State Police , telling them that there were about 20 “colored boys” that were part of a fraternity prank out on a road somewhere in the county and could they tell us where they were and we would pick them up.When we got the call about there location, we rushed to recover them and had them back on campus in a couple hours, saving them from an all night ordeal.
When the “Big Brothers” found out it was Bobby and my plan we were summarily black balled..
The first year I didn’t go home at Xmas like most of the students, I was so happy to be away from Evansville that just being in the dorm was with a few others guys was great. We all got jobs at the Post Office as Xmas subs and earned enough to eat and party. One night I was working on the canceling machine and dozed off and ran my fingers thru it,
the pain was so bad I thought I had cut them off but when I looked they were stamped Dec 15. 1949 Washington, D.C. in a perfect crescent..
Because of some raucous behavior I was not allowed back in Cook Hall the second year and was assigned to the Vet Dorms. This was like putting bre’r rabbit in the briar patch. There were about 6 or 7 of us in a dorm with WW II vets in their 20’s who were there on the GI bill. There was drinking, gambling and hustling that went on at all times. I roomed with “Big Eddie” who was on the football team and had a double major of math and music. So our room was always a meeting place. We even had Albie, the team quarter back, who had flunked out of school but couldn’t go home…. sleeping on dirty clothes in our closet at night.
To survive we had various ways to make money. One thing we did was park cars when the Washington Redskins played at Griffith Stadium which was down the hill from Howard. This entailed 3 people , 1 signaled cars to the street the dorms were on, 2 took the money and 3 directed the parking. This was haphazard at best and when they returned from the game sometimes it took hours for them to free the grid lock ‘cause we had split! We charged 3 dollars and maybe parked 40 or more cars on the lot. Forty some dollars a piece ain’t bad for an hour’s work.
Another job that was fruitful during the holidays was working in the kitchen at the Washington Hilton for banquets. We usually were either bus boys or dish washers, this gave us access to food (whole turkeys, prime steaks ) that we wrapped and secreted in garbage containers and sneaked pass security in the dumb waiter to feast on later. Sometimes we even managed a few partially filled bottles of wine. You can imagine our bunch on the street car back to campus whoopin it up, knowing we would be eating good back in the dorm. On one occasion “Big Eddie” who played bass fiddle got a gig with Billie Holiday for 2 weeks at the Blue Note when her bassist got sick and made like $400 bucks….. it was one gets, all share and we lived it up. The friendships I had then with these guys were closer than any frat .I could ever join.
I guess one wonders what about classes and grades, since we were doing all this hustling and partying. Some of us passed and some of us failed but I managed to survive. I always took a heavy load in the winter quarter so I could coast in the spring.
I also was on the swim team and had some interesting experiences. One that stands out the most was a trip we took to compete against Tennessee State in Nashville, TN.
There were 15 of us plus the coach who we called “skipper” on the trip. We left DC on a Greyhound bus seated at random. When we got to Bristol, TN for a rest and food stop, we changed drivers. This was the Mason-Dixon line and the new driver shouted as we reboarded “ I want those niggers from that school to go to the back of the bus”. Now here we are 15 Black kids in the prime of our lives able to whip every one in the bus station and the driver, but we have no win here our lives weren’t worth a dime.. So we grumble cursed and fumed about sitting in the back but what could we do.. We were about 30 miles outside of Nashville when “Skipper” pulled the signal cord for the driver to stop and asked to relieve himself. As soon as he got off, the driver pulls away and leaves him. We had to ride into Nashville and get the Tennessee State coach to go back with a couple of us to find our coach. These were unbelievable times and I still recall them with anger
During my days at Howard, Washington was mostly segregated but because foreign dignitaries abounded the access to some places was open to Africans students; what we would do on weekends was to borrow our African friend’s robes. Then we would visit various embassies which always had elegant parties and fake our way in fo eat and drink; we also we managed to integrate the Dupont Theater this way..
I left Howard and transferred to Evansville College in the spring of 1952 for family reasons and graduated from there with my BS degree, but my experiences at Howard were unforgettable
Howard University
August of 1949 was a seminal event in my life, I had gone to Chicago, Nashville and St. Louis alone for short stays but to go off to college for a year and be on my own was an adventure I could barely wait to happen.
My father sat me down and explained that I was being entrusted with funds for the first year at Howard to get an education and if I didn’t apply myself and punched out I was
essentially on my own. He than gave me a money belt, in it were 6 one hundred dollar bills for tuition. room and board for my first year. And with that my trip to college and adult hood began.
Getting to Washington, DC from Evansville involved a train ride North to Terre Haute, In on the “Georgian” and there changing to an East bound train “The Spirit of St. Louis” for the overnight trip to DC. That in itself was an adventure for a seventeen year old. I had shipped my truck by railway express a week or so earlier and had a duffle bag with my needs. The train had reserved seat cars and sleeping cars. It left Terre Haute around 4PM arriving in Washington around 8AM the next day. The “Spirit” was one of the Pennsylvania Railroads premier trains and was quite luxurious. As soon as I got settled in my seat and got my ticket punched, I explored the train. Forward was the mail cars and reserved seat cars between them and the sleeping cars was the dining car and behind the sleeping cars at the tail of the train was the club car.
Around 6 PM came the first call for dinner and I was ready. I had been on this train before with my Aunt years before and knew the routine. So the dining steward sat me at a table for two. Man, I can remember ordering off this elegant menu about 5 or 6 dollars worth of food which was an enormous amount and a pot of hot tea, all this served on china. I go into detail because nothing like this exists today unless one goes on an ocean cruise. After dinner I went back to my seat and watched the country side fly by, hearing the clickety clack of the wheels and the whistle sounding in the night.
Around midnight I wanted a pop and wandered back to the club car, and as I passed thru the sleeping car a porter hailed me. “Hey young blood, where are you headed to”. I said, Howard. He said I went there for a while but had to drop out. When you come back from the lounge get your stuff and I’ll give you a berth to sleep in tonight. Usually on trips to and from school a porter would comp me to some amenity on the train. I think it was to encourage the young to pursue their education and not get stuck in the jobs they had.
I arrived in DC and spent the night at my Aunt’s apartment going on campus the next day to get my housing which was in Cook Hall, I even remember the room, # 210 located right over the entrance.
There are hundreds of experiences that I had at Howard but one of the most significant was meeting a guy who became a life long best friend, Bobby Cook from Clairton, Pa.
We instantly hit it off and before long had fooled other freshmen into thinking we were upper classmen, even hazing them. Actually getting caught by the Dean cutting some freshman’s hair and almost getting put out before school even started. Good old Aunt Mad came to our rescue with some pull, she having taught the Dean in high school.
There was a diner run by one of the big numbers men in DC who knew my Uncle Billy and he let us borrow his truck for a fee and within a week we were hauling trunks to the dorm from the train station for in coming freshmen, especially the girls, at $5 a pop. This also gave us first crack at meeting them. We would go into the dorm and holler “man in the hall” as they scattered covering themselves from our lecherous stares. Registering who was foxy and who wasn’t.
Once we got registered and classes begun, you could sense with all the newly found freedom who would make it pass the first quarter before flunking out. I knew I was going to make it, no matter how late I stayed out to party or in a bull session, I was always ready for my classes. Dudes would say, “I’m gonna take a little nap” and wake up not having studied, not me! By the end of the first quarter I was on the honor roll and was lab assistant in inorganic chemistry for Dr Hugely from the second quarter on. I also was serving his poker buddies and cutting the pot at his weekend games .Grading paper was one my duties and this made some instant female relationships possible and I took advantage of all opportunities.
For the most part college was easy. Of course there were some tough subjects like physics and calculus and some asshole professors. Like Dr F. who had given me a grade in Algebra that would bring my GPA down. So I went to him and said “Dr F, if you raise my grade one point I’ll maintain my average”. He said “Robinson if you were jumping over a creek and it was 8 ft and you jumped 7 ft 11in, you‘d be all wet! And that’s what you are all wet. Now get out of here!”
More about Howard in another chapter.
My father sat me down and explained that I was being entrusted with funds for the first year at Howard to get an education and if I didn’t apply myself and punched out I was
essentially on my own. He than gave me a money belt, in it were 6 one hundred dollar bills for tuition. room and board for my first year. And with that my trip to college and adult hood began.
Getting to Washington, DC from Evansville involved a train ride North to Terre Haute, In on the “Georgian” and there changing to an East bound train “The Spirit of St. Louis” for the overnight trip to DC. That in itself was an adventure for a seventeen year old. I had shipped my truck by railway express a week or so earlier and had a duffle bag with my needs. The train had reserved seat cars and sleeping cars. It left Terre Haute around 4PM arriving in Washington around 8AM the next day. The “Spirit” was one of the Pennsylvania Railroads premier trains and was quite luxurious. As soon as I got settled in my seat and got my ticket punched, I explored the train. Forward was the mail cars and reserved seat cars between them and the sleeping cars was the dining car and behind the sleeping cars at the tail of the train was the club car.
Around 6 PM came the first call for dinner and I was ready. I had been on this train before with my Aunt years before and knew the routine. So the dining steward sat me at a table for two. Man, I can remember ordering off this elegant menu about 5 or 6 dollars worth of food which was an enormous amount and a pot of hot tea, all this served on china. I go into detail because nothing like this exists today unless one goes on an ocean cruise. After dinner I went back to my seat and watched the country side fly by, hearing the clickety clack of the wheels and the whistle sounding in the night.
Around midnight I wanted a pop and wandered back to the club car, and as I passed thru the sleeping car a porter hailed me. “Hey young blood, where are you headed to”. I said, Howard. He said I went there for a while but had to drop out. When you come back from the lounge get your stuff and I’ll give you a berth to sleep in tonight. Usually on trips to and from school a porter would comp me to some amenity on the train. I think it was to encourage the young to pursue their education and not get stuck in the jobs they had.
I arrived in DC and spent the night at my Aunt’s apartment going on campus the next day to get my housing which was in Cook Hall, I even remember the room, # 210 located right over the entrance.
There are hundreds of experiences that I had at Howard but one of the most significant was meeting a guy who became a life long best friend, Bobby Cook from Clairton, Pa.
We instantly hit it off and before long had fooled other freshmen into thinking we were upper classmen, even hazing them. Actually getting caught by the Dean cutting some freshman’s hair and almost getting put out before school even started. Good old Aunt Mad came to our rescue with some pull, she having taught the Dean in high school.
There was a diner run by one of the big numbers men in DC who knew my Uncle Billy and he let us borrow his truck for a fee and within a week we were hauling trunks to the dorm from the train station for in coming freshmen, especially the girls, at $5 a pop. This also gave us first crack at meeting them. We would go into the dorm and holler “man in the hall” as they scattered covering themselves from our lecherous stares. Registering who was foxy and who wasn’t.
Once we got registered and classes begun, you could sense with all the newly found freedom who would make it pass the first quarter before flunking out. I knew I was going to make it, no matter how late I stayed out to party or in a bull session, I was always ready for my classes. Dudes would say, “I’m gonna take a little nap” and wake up not having studied, not me! By the end of the first quarter I was on the honor roll and was lab assistant in inorganic chemistry for Dr Hugely from the second quarter on. I also was serving his poker buddies and cutting the pot at his weekend games .Grading paper was one my duties and this made some instant female relationships possible and I took advantage of all opportunities.
For the most part college was easy. Of course there were some tough subjects like physics and calculus and some asshole professors. Like Dr F. who had given me a grade in Algebra that would bring my GPA down. So I went to him and said “Dr F, if you raise my grade one point I’ll maintain my average”. He said “Robinson if you were jumping over a creek and it was 8 ft and you jumped 7 ft 11in, you‘d be all wet! And that’s what you are all wet. Now get out of here!”
More about Howard in another chapter.
My Brother Bruce
I was born during the depression and most couples during that era felt strongly about having a large family, especially with so much uncertainty in regard to providing for one. So when I was 15 years old, my mother told me she was going to have another baby. I really don’t remember any reaction other than “that’s nice”. I had no reason to fear any sibling rivalry since, I had been an only child and was not being displaced. In a few years, I would be off to college and the world. I did like the fact that my mother seemed happy to be pregnant as if this gave her a new direction in her life. Since previously she was consumed with doing for my father, Papa and me. I think I mentioned in an earlier chapter that she delivered a baby girl that died within 2 to 3 days of birth the year before. So there was much joy in bringing my brother Bruce home. I was in high school and she hired a young woman named Maxine to be a nanny. Maxine had moved to Evansville during the war (WWII) to work in the ship yard and when it closed she needed a job. So she became a full time caretaker for Bruce.
My role along with Ernest my best friend was to play with him once he was big enough to withstand the rigorous doings of two wild teenage boys. One thing we found out he was a girl magnet when we took him out in his stroller or for walks. We were always being asked could they play with the baby and we made a lot of contacts that way.
He also survived some hairy situations, like being pushed down a hill by one of us while the other caught the stroller at the bottom or pushing him in a swing until it almost looped. Pity this poor child when his brother hadn’t any more sense.
One of the things, I remember is that every spring and summer Papa came out to visit from Washington and he bonded with Bruce as he had with me as a little boy. I don’t know how much Bruce remembers of their walks or his stories, but I hope some of his love is imprinted in him as it was in me. Maybe his artistic gifts were passed on because he once told me that he remembers Papa making sketches with the charred tips of wooden matches……that could be the genesis of his talent. I always had the ability to draw and make things but not anything like his genius. We do know that a lot of our knowledge is passed down through imitation and I hope we both are passing on something in us and him to our progeny.
.
My role along with Ernest my best friend was to play with him once he was big enough to withstand the rigorous doings of two wild teenage boys. One thing we found out he was a girl magnet when we took him out in his stroller or for walks. We were always being asked could they play with the baby and we made a lot of contacts that way.
He also survived some hairy situations, like being pushed down a hill by one of us while the other caught the stroller at the bottom or pushing him in a swing until it almost looped. Pity this poor child when his brother hadn’t any more sense.
One of the things, I remember is that every spring and summer Papa came out to visit from Washington and he bonded with Bruce as he had with me as a little boy. I don’t know how much Bruce remembers of their walks or his stories, but I hope some of his love is imprinted in him as it was in me. Maybe his artistic gifts were passed on because he once told me that he remembers Papa making sketches with the charred tips of wooden matches……that could be the genesis of his talent. I always had the ability to draw and make things but not anything like his genius. We do know that a lot of our knowledge is passed down through imitation and I hope we both are passing on something in us and him to our progeny.
.
High School
When I was allowed to attend Reitz Memorial High School in Evansville, IN, it certainly wasn’t a special occasion for me even though I was the first Black boy to go there. Two girls from St John’s elementary school had been enrolled the previous year. Memorial was a coed school but girls were separated from the boys, they were on the top two floors and the boys on the bottom two. And we did look up their skirts as they ascended the staircase each morning in spite of the nun’s effort to chase us away.
Brothers of Holy Cross taught the boys and Sisters of Providence taught the girls. We had no contact with them until assemblies when we all sat in the auditorium each sex on a designated side. Those going steady sometimes managed to grab seats in the middle so they could sit next to their respective mate or pass notes in the stairwell.
There are hardly any fond memories of high school that I have because there were no social activities that included me or the Black girls. Interracial dating was unheard of and my girl friend who also attended was never accessible at school. The only thing we did was ride the bus together or walk home when the weather was nice. Things like the prom were at venues like the Country Club which was out of bounds to us. The only social event that I remember attending was the senior class picnic at a state park where I served as one of the lifeguards. We ended up going to the prom at Lincoln High School where all our friends attended.
The purpose of my going to Memorial was to get a good education and I did indeed do that, finishing in the upper 10th of my class, and having no trouble getting accepted into schools of my choice. I selected Howard University in Washington, DC. over my father’s objection, he having had to transfer because of financial reasons years before, because it was academically recognized Black school also known for the pretty coeds that attended there. I had some class mates that I was friendly with but never did we ever socialize out of school.
A while back one of my classmates, a prominent attorney in Indianapolis, who I have maintained a friendship over the years asked me to go to the 50th anniversary of our high school graduation. He said that they were having a golf outing and dinner and dancing at the Country Club and all my classmates wanted to see me. I told him I couldn’t go to an event there in 1949 and I damn sure wasn’t going in 1999 Thanks but no thanks.
Some people remember high school as some of the best times of their lives but I was deprived of that experience by the tension that racism played in my young life. And in some respects still plays in my life. I am forever thankful to Father Mootz and Archbishop Ritter for their color blind stand on providing me and others after me witha quality education at Memorial. Archbishop Ritter later integrated the Catholic schools in St. Louis, Mo
Jobs
I was always looking for a job after school or on weekends to make a little money. But my opportunities were limited. No chance to caddie, they wouldn’t even let you near a golf course, Soda jerk, nah! But sweep and mop the drug store floors, Yeah! All of the waiters jobs went to grown men, but you could bus tables. One time I was bussing at a private club working for my girl friends father Big Jim. He let me put out the tomato juice appetizer and I had this big oval tray of glasses filled with juice and was struggling to pass between the tables. Some guests were in the aisle talking and taking seats. One lady was leaning over talking to her friend with her butt in my way. So I said “excuse me, excuse me mam, can I get by”. Now, I have a tray with about 30 little glasses of tomato juice. She had on a sequined white gown and abruptly stood up bumping my arm and the entire tray of juice splashes all over her. I walked right out of the room thru the kitchen got my coat and headed home. No pay that night and never to work there again!
Big Jim didn’t give up on me or my friend Ernest who went with his other daughter. He use to cater big parties and picnics and once we did an affair of about 500 people for Sun Oil Co.in a park. We barbequed almost 300 chickens, they came 28 to a case and we had at least 10 cases. When we were done serving he said you boys go over and put the chickens that are left in some empty cases and load the car, since the people that hired him were all drunk He started coping cases of beer for himself. We had four cases of chickens and when we got home he gave us each a case. When I walked in with 28 chickens my mother almost fainted. Luckily we had a freezer and we ate chicken for months, thanks to Big Jim. He was the Asst Fire Chief and the firemen at his station ate good chicken for awhile too. Big Jim taught me some lessons on how to cook, serve and swipe food that helped me get over and survive later at Howard.
One of my jobs the summer before I went to college was working at the ice house. One of my first jobs there was what is known as ”pumping cores” Ice is made in big casket like metal containers that sit in a bath of brine and are filled with water. When almost frozen there is slush in the center of the block called a core. This is pumped out and filled with fresh water making a solid block, The process is repetitive and boring and cold and from the old hands I learned to keep warm by sipping on pints of mint gin we hid in the rafters. Every one in the icehouse carried a holstered ice pick. And there were some bad dudes working there who would stab you in a heart beat. On one shift someone took my gin and I said to the group “somebody stole my gin”. And an old timer said “ young blood, it’s unbeknownst to you who stole your gin.” I knew than I need to get a job out of the core room. So I switched to loading and hauling. This entailed filling a semi with 200lbs blocks stacked 4 high that we took to Sterling Brewery to fill the reefers cars (refrigerated rail cars ) that hauled kegs of draft beer. The best thing about this job was we timed our delivery to get to the brewery around lunch. They had a rathskeller where visitors and employees could drink all the free beer they wanted and we did too.
The month before I left for college I was working the to 3 to 11 shift one Saturday and a buddy who worked at a different place said lets hang out when we get off. He had a car and that night I told him to pick me up after I went home and changed clothes. That delay saved our lives. We were going to an after hour joint called “Teddy Coles” that was on river road down in the bottom land. A bunch of soldiers from Camp Breckenridge, Ky. usually hung out there on weekends. The place had a long tunnel like entrance and inside a huge dirt floor room. On week ends it would be so packed you could hear music a mile away. The door man was named Rooster, he was a big bad black dude who didn’t take no shit. When we turned down river road we saw cars racing by and people running and screaming towards us. We stopped and picked up a couple of hysterical women who told us a soldier threw a hand grenade in the door and Rooster kicked it into the parking lot. We got out of there fast and later learned they had been fighting and Rooster had put them out and one returned and threw a grenade in the entrance. It killed Rooster and blew out windows of about 20 cars and scared 100 people shitless. If Rooster hadn’t kicked the grenade out the door who knows how many would have been killed including us if we had not been running late After that I couldn’t get out of Evansville fast enough. Howard University, I thought would be a safe refuge, Not to be so!
Brothers of Holy Cross taught the boys and Sisters of Providence taught the girls. We had no contact with them until assemblies when we all sat in the auditorium each sex on a designated side. Those going steady sometimes managed to grab seats in the middle so they could sit next to their respective mate or pass notes in the stairwell.
There are hardly any fond memories of high school that I have because there were no social activities that included me or the Black girls. Interracial dating was unheard of and my girl friend who also attended was never accessible at school. The only thing we did was ride the bus together or walk home when the weather was nice. Things like the prom were at venues like the Country Club which was out of bounds to us. The only social event that I remember attending was the senior class picnic at a state park where I served as one of the lifeguards. We ended up going to the prom at Lincoln High School where all our friends attended.
The purpose of my going to Memorial was to get a good education and I did indeed do that, finishing in the upper 10th of my class, and having no trouble getting accepted into schools of my choice. I selected Howard University in Washington, DC. over my father’s objection, he having had to transfer because of financial reasons years before, because it was academically recognized Black school also known for the pretty coeds that attended there. I had some class mates that I was friendly with but never did we ever socialize out of school.
A while back one of my classmates, a prominent attorney in Indianapolis, who I have maintained a friendship over the years asked me to go to the 50th anniversary of our high school graduation. He said that they were having a golf outing and dinner and dancing at the Country Club and all my classmates wanted to see me. I told him I couldn’t go to an event there in 1949 and I damn sure wasn’t going in 1999 Thanks but no thanks.
Some people remember high school as some of the best times of their lives but I was deprived of that experience by the tension that racism played in my young life. And in some respects still plays in my life. I am forever thankful to Father Mootz and Archbishop Ritter for their color blind stand on providing me and others after me witha quality education at Memorial. Archbishop Ritter later integrated the Catholic schools in St. Louis, Mo
Jobs
I was always looking for a job after school or on weekends to make a little money. But my opportunities were limited. No chance to caddie, they wouldn’t even let you near a golf course, Soda jerk, nah! But sweep and mop the drug store floors, Yeah! All of the waiters jobs went to grown men, but you could bus tables. One time I was bussing at a private club working for my girl friends father Big Jim. He let me put out the tomato juice appetizer and I had this big oval tray of glasses filled with juice and was struggling to pass between the tables. Some guests were in the aisle talking and taking seats. One lady was leaning over talking to her friend with her butt in my way. So I said “excuse me, excuse me mam, can I get by”. Now, I have a tray with about 30 little glasses of tomato juice. She had on a sequined white gown and abruptly stood up bumping my arm and the entire tray of juice splashes all over her. I walked right out of the room thru the kitchen got my coat and headed home. No pay that night and never to work there again!
Big Jim didn’t give up on me or my friend Ernest who went with his other daughter. He use to cater big parties and picnics and once we did an affair of about 500 people for Sun Oil Co.in a park. We barbequed almost 300 chickens, they came 28 to a case and we had at least 10 cases. When we were done serving he said you boys go over and put the chickens that are left in some empty cases and load the car, since the people that hired him were all drunk He started coping cases of beer for himself. We had four cases of chickens and when we got home he gave us each a case. When I walked in with 28 chickens my mother almost fainted. Luckily we had a freezer and we ate chicken for months, thanks to Big Jim. He was the Asst Fire Chief and the firemen at his station ate good chicken for awhile too. Big Jim taught me some lessons on how to cook, serve and swipe food that helped me get over and survive later at Howard.
One of my jobs the summer before I went to college was working at the ice house. One of my first jobs there was what is known as ”pumping cores” Ice is made in big casket like metal containers that sit in a bath of brine and are filled with water. When almost frozen there is slush in the center of the block called a core. This is pumped out and filled with fresh water making a solid block, The process is repetitive and boring and cold and from the old hands I learned to keep warm by sipping on pints of mint gin we hid in the rafters. Every one in the icehouse carried a holstered ice pick. And there were some bad dudes working there who would stab you in a heart beat. On one shift someone took my gin and I said to the group “somebody stole my gin”. And an old timer said “ young blood, it’s unbeknownst to you who stole your gin.” I knew than I need to get a job out of the core room. So I switched to loading and hauling. This entailed filling a semi with 200lbs blocks stacked 4 high that we took to Sterling Brewery to fill the reefers cars (refrigerated rail cars ) that hauled kegs of draft beer. The best thing about this job was we timed our delivery to get to the brewery around lunch. They had a rathskeller where visitors and employees could drink all the free beer they wanted and we did too.
The month before I left for college I was working the to 3 to 11 shift one Saturday and a buddy who worked at a different place said lets hang out when we get off. He had a car and that night I told him to pick me up after I went home and changed clothes. That delay saved our lives. We were going to an after hour joint called “Teddy Coles” that was on river road down in the bottom land. A bunch of soldiers from Camp Breckenridge, Ky. usually hung out there on weekends. The place had a long tunnel like entrance and inside a huge dirt floor room. On week ends it would be so packed you could hear music a mile away. The door man was named Rooster, he was a big bad black dude who didn’t take no shit. When we turned down river road we saw cars racing by and people running and screaming towards us. We stopped and picked up a couple of hysterical women who told us a soldier threw a hand grenade in the door and Rooster kicked it into the parking lot. We got out of there fast and later learned they had been fighting and Rooster had put them out and one returned and threw a grenade in the entrance. It killed Rooster and blew out windows of about 20 cars and scared 100 people shitless. If Rooster hadn’t kicked the grenade out the door who knows how many would have been killed including us if we had not been running late After that I couldn’t get out of Evansville fast enough. Howard University, I thought would be a safe refuge, Not to be so!
Carwash
The first automatic car wash in the country opened in Detroit in 1914, the first in Washington, DC opened in the spring of 1950 on Minnesota Ave in SE. Washington
A noticed was posted on the bulletin board in the administration building at Howard
offering weekend employment for student at 75 cents/hr.
A bunch of my buddies and I decided to hire on. It took two trolleys and one bus transfer to get there.
The interesting thing was that the only thing automatic was a moving chain with hooks that pulled the cars thru the building. We did the washing and drying by hand.
There were two favored jobs, being the drive on and drive off man and then there was the scrub crew of two and a rinse crew of two and a dry crew of two as the cars were pulled by. Each pair of us, vigorously scrubbing, spraying rinse water and towel drying an endless line of cars, for the princely sum of about 10 dollars a day
We started work at 6 AM and finished when it was too dark to see, about 12-14 hrs later. The owner provided a box of stale baloney sandwiches and some warm RC colas for lunch breaks. We were in constant motion and being young and silly clowned around to make the job fun.(shades of “Car Wash”, the movie, way before it existed). After about 4-6 weeks I got promoted to being the drive off man. This involved taking the car after it was unhooked and driving it out to the customer for their approval. If not satisfied, they could have it redone.
One day an old white man inspected his car and was not satisfied with some dirt between the car and the rear bumper. So I promptly drove the car around to be rewashed and hurried back to my post in the front to retrieve it. I politely asked if this was satisfactory and he said there was still dirt on the car. I asked him where and he said behind the bumper and I asked if he could get his hand in the space between the bumper and the car and he said ”no”…... I said “how in the hell do you think I can get my hand in there, you stupid mutha-fucker”
Guess what? I was fired on the spot. Didn’t like washing cars 14 hrs a day on weekends anyway! My boys left with me leaving a line of cars to be washed as we laughed all the way back to the campus.
A noticed was posted on the bulletin board in the administration building at Howard
offering weekend employment for student at 75 cents/hr.
A bunch of my buddies and I decided to hire on. It took two trolleys and one bus transfer to get there.
The interesting thing was that the only thing automatic was a moving chain with hooks that pulled the cars thru the building. We did the washing and drying by hand.
There were two favored jobs, being the drive on and drive off man and then there was the scrub crew of two and a rinse crew of two and a dry crew of two as the cars were pulled by. Each pair of us, vigorously scrubbing, spraying rinse water and towel drying an endless line of cars, for the princely sum of about 10 dollars a day
We started work at 6 AM and finished when it was too dark to see, about 12-14 hrs later. The owner provided a box of stale baloney sandwiches and some warm RC colas for lunch breaks. We were in constant motion and being young and silly clowned around to make the job fun.(shades of “Car Wash”, the movie, way before it existed). After about 4-6 weeks I got promoted to being the drive off man. This involved taking the car after it was unhooked and driving it out to the customer for their approval. If not satisfied, they could have it redone.
One day an old white man inspected his car and was not satisfied with some dirt between the car and the rear bumper. So I promptly drove the car around to be rewashed and hurried back to my post in the front to retrieve it. I politely asked if this was satisfactory and he said there was still dirt on the car. I asked him where and he said behind the bumper and I asked if he could get his hand in the space between the bumper and the car and he said ”no”…... I said “how in the hell do you think I can get my hand in there, you stupid mutha-fucker”
Guess what? I was fired on the spot. Didn’t like washing cars 14 hrs a day on weekends anyway! My boys left with me leaving a line of cars to be washed as we laughed all the way back to the campus.
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