Researching Glencoe’s Racial Past

Taylor Family posing in Glencoe, IL, c1920s

—By Celia

I came to work at Shorefront through a circuitous series of realizations and referrals. During the summer of 2017, just before I went to college, I was reading Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy on my back porch in Glencoe. I was taken aback by Stevenson’s stories of defending inmates on death row, but equally struck by two of his other ideas: First, that the United States has a long, long way to go in memorializing the horrendous legacy of slavery, and second, that one must be proximate to issues to truly understand them and make a difference.

While reading about the cruelty of systematic incarceration and capital punishment of African-Americans, I couldn’t help but think about to which issues I, a Jewish girl on her back porch in Glencoe, was proximate. Throughout my time in Glencoe’s public schools and New Trier High School, I could count my black classmates on one hand, and had never considered why. Nearly all-white suburbs are not natural; they are the products of deliberate racial discrimination. I had been so close to the issue that I couldn’t see it for what it was. It was time to transform that inability to examine my surroundings to a meaningful proximity, like stepping back from an impressionist painting.

How did my town come to be so white, and what was to be done about it? That was the question I tried to answer with a free summer and the internet at my disposal. I found scans of census records on a genealogy website and hand-counted each black resident from decades of data. Although tedious, I found something important: the black population of Glencoe halved in between 1920 and 1930. What had happened during that time?

I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know where to go next for my research. I read Robert Sideman’s African-Americans in Glencoe, which illuminated some important sources for me, and interviewed a few residents. I would be starting school soon, and had to table the project to transition to college.

Just a few weeks in, I met Dr. Chatelain, a history professor at my university. She’s regarded as a must-take professor – equally accomplished and devoted to her students. When I told her about my nascent project, she directed me to Shorefront, where she had done research in graduate school. I reached out to Dino, and started to work in the archives when I returned home for the summer.

I really enjoyed organizing sources to be used by future researchers. I categorized letters written by Freedom Summer teachers to their disapproving parents. I sifted through legal notices and memoranda about discrimination by the Noyes Cultural Arts Center. But what interested me the most was a heap of unsorted materials about Glencoe from the 1880s to present day: newspaper clippings, letters, invitations, pamphlets. They proved incredibly helpful in establishing what had happened in my hometown, from its inception to the present. With that arc of history came a set of patterns that made Glencoe the way it is today.

First, Glencoe was always meant to be idyllic. This hasn’t changed much since its founding: Glencoe is situated overlooking a beautiful beach; it’s filled with well-maintained green spaces; the schools are well-regarded and small enough that everyone knows one another; the houses are beautiful and often sell for millions. Such was the vision of its founders, who sought an escape from their busy city lives.

St. Paul A.M.E. Youth Choir practicing for the MLK remembrance in 1983. Photo by Jim Robinson

African-Americans bought property in Glencoe from early on in its history. Morton Culver, a local real estate developer, first sold land to blacks from Chicago in the early 1880s. The St Paul AME Church was founded shortly after in 1884. I found a Chicago Tribune article from the same year about a picnic in Glencoe, an event that drew blacks from the city and a number of surrounding suburbs. The picnickers are reported to have sung, “We’ll rest in this beautiful land, / Just along Michigan’s shore / Sing the song of Moses and the Lamb, / And dwell in Glencoe evermore.”

The vision of a blissful suburb seemed, at this moment, accessible to blacks. The air was fresher and the schools, which had always been racially integrated, were better than the cramped ones in the city.

But Chicago’s white elite was also taking notice of this ideal setting. Wealthy white couples started to pine after lakefront mansions for the weekends, and founded country clubs to entertain them during their stays. Eventually, these weekend visitors began to permanently settle in Glencoe.

A critical mass of them took measures to remove black people from Glencoe. In 1919, the Glencoe Homes Association was founded by residents with the intent to “beautify” the town. It bought properties to be resold with what Robert Sideman calls “zoning-like restrictions” to increase the town’s green space and sell selectively to what it deemed “proper” buyers.

In 1927, Glencoe Homes embarked on a project with the town’s government to build a public park. Rather than using the town’s many vacant lots, it would be located in the middle of southwest Glencoe – where the majority of black families lived. After much opposition, the families were forced to settle. The Glencoe Homes Association published an op-ed in the local paper about their disapproval of the “negro colony,” paraded under the headline: “Prevention by ‘Syndicate’ of Blight to Community Saved Realty Values in Millions.”

This is the point at which Glencoe’s black community halved, the enormous dip in the census data. I had sometimes wondered why Watts Park, where I learned to ice skate and had lacrosse practice, was divided by a street in the middle. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for it to be continuous? But nearly all-white suburbs are not natural; they are planned deliberately.

July 10, 1942 Chicago SunTimes article

Despite this major fracture in Glencoe’s black population, the suburb continued to be relatively more diverse and progressive when compared to its surrounding suburbs. A.L. Foster, a Glencoe resident and then-Executive Director of the Chicago Urban League, won a case to desegregate Glencoe’s public beach in 1942, while Kenilworth didn’t have a single black resident until 1963.

Glencoe became a small enclave for black residents in an otherwise overwhelmingly white sea of suburbia. Mayor Robert Morris initiated programs to encourage African-Americans to apply for the village’s jobs in the mid-1950s, and the Glencoe Human Relations Committee formed to advocate for open housing and more harmonious race relations. When parents of New Trier students formed Concerned Black Parents in 1977, it met consistently where there was a critical mass of black parents: Glencoe. The group pushed for New Trier’s recognition of Martin Luther King Jr. Day and inclusive teaching at the majority white high school.

Newspaper articles I found from this period struck me as odd. There were multiple articles that profiled Glencoe’s black residents as anomalies in their exposure to such a progressive society. In particular, I found this article bold in its claim to Glencoe as a champion of race relations:

February 9, 1977 (Suburban Trib)

“Assumptions on Race don’t Hold; Glencoe’s 6% Black”: The article rebukes the assumption that Glencoe has no black population, but rather a percentage far below the national average. It also acknowledges that “…a black homeowner will have to sell for a bit less than a white homeowner with a comparable house in Glencoe.” It recognizes that the original sale of property to blacks in Glencoe may have been a scheme to resentfully decrease its property value, but it “backfired and for years Glencoe was a primary source for domestic help on the North Shore.” Such “backfiring” refers only to the quality of life for white residents.

While these articles clung to every testimony and long-time residency of black Glenconians, the population has been declining gradually, but consistently, at about 1% per decade since 1930. One woman whom I interviewed cited the exorbitant housing prices as the main reason that her children didn’t raise their families in their hometown – an obstacle exacerbated by the fact that blacks often sold their homes for lower than they were worth. Another black resident wrote to the Glencoe News in 2004 to lament her inability to return to Glencoe because the homes on her childhood block had been torn down to build houses of twice the value. One might be reminded of the Glencoe Homes Association’s calls to beautify the town, and its consequences.

But economics aside, and with a multitude of studies proving that black families are more likely to live in lower-income areas even if they can afford not to do so, other factors influenced this gradual exodus. In a 2004 Glencoe News article entitled “Black Population Dwindles,” advocates cite widespread “‘steering’ [of] prospective homeowners toward communities that fit their demographic.” Carol Hendrix, a co-founder of Concerned Black Parents, witnessed her community leaving Glencoe over time, saying, “…[T]here was an effort by the builders to engineer the neighborhood.” Angela Hatfield, another resident interviewed in the article, said she was virtually certain that a white family would live in her home after her. 

Glencoe is currently 0.7% black. With its green spaces and beautiful beach, its colonial homes and quaint downtown, I can’t help but think of a line from Martin Luther King Junior’s “Letter from Birmingham Jail.” He writes of the shame and injustice in “when you…see tears welling up in [your six year old daughter’s] eyes when she is told that Funtown is closed to colored children, and see ominous clouds of inferiority beginning to form in her little mental sky, and see her beginning to distort her personality by developing an unconscious bitterness toward white people.” Glencoe is Funtown. While it wasn’t part of the Jim Crow South, it had been closed off to African-Americans in a gradual, de facto manner. Beyond the public policy implications of this injustice, it’s an affront to the dignity of so many.

In closing, I tried to better understand this issue to which I was so proximate. In doing so, I realized just how much history this suburb, of less than ten thousand residents and five square miles, holds. This history was sometimes subject to the reverberations of events far beyond its own scale – the Great Migration, for example – but, on the whole, was largely influenced by everyday people trying to change their hometown. From Morton Culver to A.L. Foster to Carol Hendrix, these individuals transformed the microcosm that is Glencoe, beyond the purview of anything I would learn about in an American History class. I’m grateful for organizations like Shorefront, that safeguard these local histories, and the legacies of those who sacrificed for their vision of a more equitable society.

Sources:

Sideman, Robert A., African Americans in Glencoe: The Little Migration, © 2009, The History Press, Charleston, SC.

Chicago Sun-Times, “Court Opens Glencoe Beach To Negro Family: Injunction Granted Against Official Of Park District”, July 10, 1942.

Suburban Tribune, “Assumptions on Race don’t Hold; Glencoe’s 6% Black”, February 9, 1977.

Shorefront Update #010

First three publications under Shorefront Press

Shorefront’s 2017 year was filled with activities, avocation, national forums and new partnerships. New acquisitions, the 5^th installment of the Black History Month Lecture Series, participation with institutions from around the country and engagement with the schools have increased Shorefronts visibility and discoverability.

Shorefront Archives

As an active collecting repository, new items added to the archives come from former alderman Delores Holmes, former School District 65 superintendent Joseph Hill, OPAL, Jack and Jill North Shore Chapter, items from the Graves family and campaign materials from Evanston’s April ward and mayoral elections. In addition, Shorefront has conducted over a dozen oral history sessions.

Shorefront recently partnered with the Schlesinger Library in Cambridge, MA to digitize 93 documents from the Edwin B. Jourdain Jr. collection housed at Shorefront. The documents will late be uploaded to a digital repository portal and eventually ingested to the UMBRA Research site. UMBRA specializes on important documents related to the African American communities across the country.

In partnership with the Evanston Chapter NAACP, The African American History and Genealogy Consortium and the Haitian Congress to Fortify Haiti, three community wide panel discussions were shared at the 5th Annual Black History Lecture Series event. Held on three consecutive Saturdays, scholars and community members shared their knowledge. All three sessions were filmed and archived at Shorefront.

Lecture one was Abbeville, South Carolina to Evanston and the Long Road to Recognition and Reconciliation. Lecture two was Pan-Africanism: Cuba and the Fight Against Colonialism. Session three was The Black Vote: What Just Happened—and What Do We Do Now? Sessions were held at Sherman United Methodist Church and at the Evanston Levy Center and was attended by over 175 participants.

The new traveling exhibit “Legacies” has grown from 10 to 15 panels. For 2018, Shorefront will produce five new panels. The growing, multi-panel focuses a snapshot of historic and contemporary residents and organizations throughout the North Shore. In 2017, the panels were displayed at the Evanston History Center and soon at the Lorraine H. Morton Civic Center.

During the 2017 Evanston NAACP installation of new officers, Shorefront presented an interesting early account of the local chapter activities utilizing newspaper headlines and the community members engaged in fighting early Jim Crow in Evanston.

Shorefront is in its second-year grant cycle with the Institute of Museum and Library Services (IMLS), “Museum Grants for African American History and Culture” and as a collaborating partner with the “National Leadership Grants for Libraries”. The Institute of Museum and Library Services is the primary source of federal support for the nation’s 123,000 libraries and 35,000 museums. To learn more, visit www.imls.gov.

With the “Museum Grants for African American History and Culture”, Shorefront officially launched Shorefront Press — our publishing arm. Three books have been published: The Dream Dancers: New England Preservers of the Dream 1620-1924, by Spencer Jourdain; True Colors: Evanston Through Our Eyes, by ETHS 2017 Senior Studies students; and Edwin B. Jourdain Jr: The Rise of Black Political Power in Evanston, Illinois1931-1947, by Dr. Sherman Beverly. All of these books are available at Shorefront, Squareup Market and Lulu.com.

With the “National Leadership Grants for Libraries”, Shorefronts partnership with the Amistad Research Center, the South Asian American Digital Archive, Mukurtu, and the Inland Empire Memories Project of the University of California-Riverside was completed. As partners, we assembled a series of four forums where Evanston for the host for the third forum in May, 2017. All Forum activities are archived at www.diversifyingthedigital.org.

Families come in to both donate items and research their family legacies.

Shorefront and its activities is supported by membership, contributions and grant support. Shorefront is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit historical organization dedicated to collecting, preserving and educating people about Black history on Chicago’s suburban North Shore. It is publicly supported through grants, contributions and membership. The Legacy Center is open to the public for research initiatives.

The Nile Club—The Social Evolution of a Black Veritas

— By Spencer Jourdain

Charter members of the Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, Sigma Chapter. Edwin Bush Jourdain, Jr. (seated center) elected as its first president. Edward “Ned” Gourdin is standing in back row second from left.

. . .

Throughout his college years, Edwin B. Jourdain Jr. (Gint) enjoyed engaging in every aspect of university life available to a black student. He loved to attend the university orchestra and glee club concerts, carefully storing away the events’ ticket stubs, and was a big fan of the football and baseball teams and the famous Harvard crew. He attended each of the occasional receptions, or “teas,” for students with Harvard faculty and on rare occasion with President Lowell, where he would recall the gracious conduct of Mrs. Lowell toward all students regardless of color. Gint’s frank confidence, gracious manners and impeccable New England speech compared favorably with any of the Porcelain types. Leo Hansberry would later observe that Gint had clearly mastered the very culture that excluded him and thereby was able to see both its good and bad points in an objective way—the trait of a fine anthropologist.

Edwin B. Jourdain, Jr. “Gint”

By the autumn of 1920, the senior year of the Class of ’21, the collection of black students at Harvard and nearby universities had, in its own separate Darwinian evolution, produced an impressive roster of brilliance, epitomized in the Nile Club participants. The older black graduate students of the Nile Club had proved themselves as formidable intellects and had become admired mentors for the black undergraduate students. Such earned veneration was not new to Charles Houston. He had graduated from high school at the age of fifteen as one of the most outstanding graduates of legendary Dunbar High School in Washington, D.C. At Amherst College, Charlie had graduated Phi Beta Kappa and class valedictorian in 1915, and he had rendered admirable military service in World War I. Harvard Law School professor, and future Supreme Court Justice, Felix Frankfurter, said that Charlie Houston was one of the most brilliant students of any race ever to study under him at the Law School. Houston received his LLB in 1919 and went on to earn his Doctorate of Jurisprudence from the Law School in 1923. Houston would go on to become Dean of Howard University’s Law School and the architect of the NAACP’s legendary Legal Defense Fund.¹ He and Gint would remain lifelong friends and sometimes collaborate on civil rights issues.

Jesse Heslip would become president of the National Bar Association and a constant contributor to legal battles of the NAACP. He, too, would remain a lifelong friend of Gint’s. Jesse’s classmate at the Law School Class of 1923, Raymond Pace Alexander, would serve as counsel for the NAACP, president of the National Bar Association, honorary consul to the Republic of Haiti in 1938, and founder of a prestigious black Philadelphia legal dynasty.

The black students in the Class of ’21, Ned Gourdin, Leo Hansberry and Edwin Jourdain, had been at the chronological median of a rare black experience in the Nile Club and were now poised for further accomplishments. Leo Hansberry would get his PhD in anthropology, and as a professor at Howard University in Washington, D.C., would become one of the nation’s leading scholars on African history and culture. Leo would be honored by the founding heads of state of Ghana and Nigeria, Kwame Nkrumah and Nnandi Azikiwe. A school of sociology at the University of Nigeria would be named for him.² Graduating in 1921 with an MBA, the new degree from the graduate Business School, Norris Herndon would prove his ability as head of the nation’s largest black insurance company.

Ned Gourdin would go on to Harvard Law School to study under Roscoe Pound. Soon after graduation, he sailed for Paris to participate in the 1924 Olympics. Even though having an unusually low performance day, Ned would nonetheless win a silver medal in the long jump. (The fabled Paris Olympiad would produce the triple gold medal swimmer and later star of Tarzan movies, Johnny Weissmuller. The exploits of dash champions Abrahams and Liddell at the 1924 Olympiad would be depicted over a half-century later in an Academy Award–winning movie, Chariots of Fire.) Ned would become the commanding officer of the black Massachusetts 372nd Infantry, serve as a colonel in the Pacific Theatre of World War II, and retire in 1959 with the rank of brigadier general in the National Guard. In 1958, Ned would become Massachusetts’s first African American Superior Court justice,³ all in all, a bravura performance for a student who sometimes had to walk to his Harvard classes with newspapers stuffed in his shoes to keep out the winter cold.

Gint would be admitted to the Harvard Graduate School of Business, mindful of his father’s exhortations to go to a professional school to obtain some practical skills with which to face the difficult world of segregate America. He would carry with him an abiding interest in journalism, both as a writer and as a prospective publisher. Like Du Bois and Trotter, journalism would be an effective way to continue the fight for black civil rights and full participation in American society.

Washington, D.C.’s Dunbar High School, in a burst of brilliance, had produced in only a few decades a host of participants in the Nile Club and an alumni roster that would include Nile Club participants Allison Davis, Rayford Logan, Charles Drew, William Hastie, Montague Cobb, Sterling Brown, and Benjamin O. Davis. Dunbar (formerly the M Street) High School might have been aptly identified as a major source of the Nile.

Spencer Jourdain’s book

There were only a dozen blacks throughout Harvard University and often fewer at other major colleges of the area. The journey to get there was so difficult that the Nile Club wound up being one of the most powerful assemblages of intellect imaginable. Gint would stand out in the memory of his college friends for his earnestness, easy grace, concern for others, and commitment to the black struggle for equality in which he had such deep roots. That year, several of the black students formed a Harvard Chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity. They included Charles Houston, Ned Gourdin, and Edwin B. Jourdain, Jr. The group elected Gint as their first president, and Charlie Houston served as the Chapter’s first treasurer. . .

. . .

Notes: This article is an excerpt of Chapter 13 from Spencer Jourdain’s book Dream Dancers: New England Preservers of the Dream 1620–1924, Volume One, available now at www.lulu.com.

Photo: Sigma chapter of Alpha Phi Alpha, Harvard University. First chartered c1920. Photo part of the Edwin B. Jourdain collection, Shorefront archives.

1. “Brown at 50, Fulfilling the Promise: Charles Hamilton Houston,” Howard University School of Law, http://www.brownat50.org/brownbios/BioCharlesHHouston.html.
2. James Mohr, “Hansberry, Leo (1894–1965),” http://www.blackpast.org/aah/hansberry-william-leo-1894-1965.
3. Ned’s life story and his portrait hung in honor in Old Suffolk County Courthouse: see, Daphne Abeel, “Edward Orval Gourdin: Brief Life of a Breaker of Barriers,” Harvard Magazine, http://harvardmagazine.com.

Beauty, Jazz and Dreams: Kathryn Wimp’s Musical Journey With Duke Ellington

— By Carrie Moea Brown

Stage name, Kay Davis production shot while touring with Duke Ellington

As Kathryn “Kay” MacDonald finished up the last two songs in her performance in Chicago, her eyes fixed toward the back of the auditorium. In walked a man surrounded by what in modern terms is referred to as an entourage. The year was 1944, and within moments she recognized what others around her already did— Duke Ellington had arrived. She left her place on stage and joined those down in the audience; pushing to get a closer look, when she finally reached him she was greeted with a question…

…“Can you be in Baltimore next week?” Ellington asked.

A week earlier, she and a friend attended one of Ellington’s performances. On a whim she decided to head backstage and after brief introductions she sang a tune. When she saw that Ellington seemed to enjoy it —and feeling even braver— she invited him to an upcoming performance.

“I was crazy about the man and his band,” Kay (now Kathryn Wimp) said in an interview with Northwestern Alumni News in 2001. “He was the epitome of style and class.”

She was pleasantly surprised that he had taken her up on her invitation— and even more surprised when he offered her a job. “I went home and packed my little trunk,” she said. “And that was the beginning of my career.”

The Formative Years

Born Kathryn MacDonald, in Evanston, Wimp knew early on in life that she wanted to sing. When her father, a chiropractor and her mother a homemaker from Evanston moved the family Bushnell, Ill. (62 miles outside of Peoria) she left behind a rich family history that included her grandfather, William H. Twiggs. An active civic leader, Twiggs was ahead of his time in working toward success in Evanston’s Black community. In 2000, this publication reported that he arrived in Evanston from Davenport, Iowa in 1884. He went on to own and operate a barbershop and printing press. Today, a park located south of Canal between Simpson and Payne streets bears his name.

Twiggs family c1912. Katherine Twiggs (Kay’s mother) far left

By the time Wimp arrived back in Evanston for high school her interest in music had piqued. “I remember singing ‘Trees’ in elementary school,” says Wimp by phone from her home in Florida. It was her first time singing in public. She also recalls that her father used to sing in a Catholic choir—and she credits that with being a major factor in her choice to pursue music.

In her last two years at Evanston Township High School, Wimp began taking voice lessons. The school was de-segregated because it was the only high school for students in Evanston, black or white. There, she was a student of Roy Schuzler, a music teacher at ETHS who happened to be a student of Northwestern University music professor Walter Allen Stults. The relationship she forged with Schuzler would prove beneficial when she enrolled as a voice major at Northwestern’s School of Music.

Back at ETHS, she joined a choir newly formed by the head of the music department. Wimp recalls walking into the rehearsal room to find the entire choir was Black. They were all perplexed, she says. The head music teacher, a white woman from Texas, explained that she thought forming an all Black choir was a good idea because she felt the Black students sang so well.

Wimp says they all walked out of the room.  And the notion of an all Black choir was soon dismantled.

There were other challenges that faced Blacks living in Evanston at the time. On Sundays she would go downtown with her two younger brothers and her parents to get ice cream, but they would eat it on the drive home because they weren’t allowed to sit in the parlor.

Once, when Wimp was a teenager she and a friend who was darker skinned attempted to eat in at a popular diner in downtown Evanston. The staff offered to serve the lighter skinned Wimp, but refused service to her friend. They eventually let them eat in, but according to Wimp they doused the food in salt. She and her friend cleared their plates and left. She proudly refers to it as their version of a sit-in.

Early Training

The first Black undergraduate to enroll and subsequently graduate from Northwestern was Lawyer Taylor. The Louisville-born Taylor enrolled at the age of 34 and graduated in 1903. Thirty-five years later Wimp enrolled at Northwestern’s School of Music majoring in vocal performance. Only six Black students were enrolled in the music program at the time and because of Northwestern’s policy at the time, students of color were not permitted to live in the residence halls.

“We used to drool over Willard Hall, which was right across from the music building,” Wimp said in 2001. “I had a good time at Northwestern, but there were those limitations.” Wimp says that the limitations placed on both Black and Jewish students forged a sense of unity. “We kind of bonded together,” she says.

But those years were not without controversy. In 1942 at Northwestern’s annual Waa-Mu Show, a showcase of the campus’ musical talents, Wimp sang a duet with fellow music major Jack Haskell despite the social taboos on cross-racial stage romance.

The Man and His Band

In 1943 Wimp graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in voice. The following year she received her Master’s degree. Then, the opportunity came to work with Ellington. One of her first experiences in Ellington’s band came when he taught her the simple melody to “Creole Love Song.” Within an hour she was onstage with him performing the song. The year was 1944. The place was Carnegie Hall.

“I sang, it got a wonderful ovation and then I got the heck off the stage!” she exclaims.

Her first recording with Ellington came about as he was teaching fellow band member Al Hibbler notes from “I Ain’t Got Nothin’ but the Blues.” Wimp sat humming along off stage. Ellington asked her to join in humming. When he eventually decided to keep her on the track Wimp was less than thrilled.

“I called home crying,” she says. She wanted to be on the frontlines.

Jet Magazine, Dec. 25, 1952

But there were plenty of opportunities to showcase her talent. The following year, in April 1945, President Roosevelt died. Ellington’s band was the only jazz band asked to perform for a national audience. One piece “A City Called Heaven,” was sung by Wimp. The years went on and according to Wimp band members came and went. Among those, the only still alive are Maria Ellington (of no relation to Duke), who later married Nat King Cole and gave birth to Natalie. She now resides in Florida. The second was Joya Sherrill who now resides in Great Neck, NY. But Wimp describes Ellington as a “genius” and says that even with constant flux of female band members he remained focused. She says, unlike many of his day he didn’t fraternize with female band members. In fact, he completely absorbed by his work.

“Music was his mistress,” she says. He was always at the piano. She even heard that later he bought a portable piano –presumably before they became a main stay– which he toyed with while on the road. She says he would stay up until all hours of the night “constantly composing” music.

The years between 1944 and 1950 were filled with high profile engagements, one-nighters and cross continental trips. Wimp describes life on the road as hard.

“It’s not that glamorous day after day,” she says. As time went on “I kept holding on hoping something dramatic would happen,” she says.

The band toured relentlessly, to the Palladium in England and with the Nicolas Brothers and Pearl Bailey in Liverpool, and seemingly everywhere in between. “It was quite an experience, very exciting,” she says. In 1947 the band toured California, Texas and Georgia.

It was a “whole different thing,” she says referring to race relations. She says they were bad, and despite their high profile they couldn’t even sit down in restaurants to eat. She recalls a frightening time in Macon, Georgia. The band had just finished a show and their manager, who was white, arranged a deal with a restaurant owner across the street from the theatre. Ellington and his band hastily made their way into the restaurant, so as to avoid any controversy. When a patron saw the band arrive he demanded to know why Blacks were being served.

The restaurant owner introduced Duke Ellington. And according to Wimp the angry patron answered, “I don’t care about no Duke Ellington!”

Before things could get any more tense, Wimp ran out of the restaurant and back to the concert hall where she set up a make shift hot plate. That night, she heated a can of Campbell’s soup over the sink in the ladies’ restroom.

Though things were rough at times, she and the band remained focused. But by 1950, after a four-week tour of Europe Wimp says, “I was tired. . . I got home and said, ‘That’s it,’” she says.

One night gigs and the relentless travel schedule began to take their toll. To this day she says feelings of fatigue remind her of those one-night summer gigs.

On the music of the day she says, “It escapes me.” But she is also encouraged by the recent resurgence of old standards from the likes of artists like Michael Buble, hailed as a modern day master of the music of yesteryear.

As for advice she gives to people aspiring to break into the music business. She says, “So much of what happens to you, no matter what you do is luck.”

Kay Wimp, visiting relatives in Chicago viewing artifacts Shorefront found in her childhood home in 2006.

She parallels this with the story of a childhood friend from Evanston who also graduated from Northwestern’s music school. Ann DeRamus was Black and studied classical piano. She was considered a prodigy by most, but breaking into the world of a classical pianist as a Black woman proved to be difficult. She went on to become a social worker.

But, Wimp adds that today, “If you’re really serious about something, no matter what you do, trust and have faith that it will happen.” She adds, “Look at me. I never dreamed that I would be on stage with Ellington.”

 

Notes: The original article first appeared in the original printed version of Shorefront Journal, volume 7 number 3, 2006. Images from the Shorefront photographic collection, Kay Davis music collection.

The History Behind the UNITY Scholarship and its Founding Members

—By Kimberly Jackson

Unity Awards program held at First Church of God Christian Life Center, c2014

In 1984, the dream to find a way to recognize the community’s young people in a positive light was put into reality by two friends, C. Louise Brown and Yvonne Davis. Over 30 years later, this legacy is comprised of a unified body of believers and achievers coming together to do something positive for the African American community.

C. Louise Brown, a retired public health director for the city of Evanston, has always been one to pave the way so that others might follow. The first African American to graduate from Michigan State’s School of Nursing went on to earn her master’s degree at UIC in Public Administration. The idea of recognition for African American high achieving students was one that she experienced herself as a teenager growing up in Michigan. Her local church made it one of their missions to do something for its graduating students. The church not only acknowledged their students’ accomplishments but rewarded their success by paying for everything (from tuition to books and more) each semester, for their high school graduates.

Although Brown’s career resulted in her spending the majority of her time as a leader in the field of health administration, a passion for her local community, and students in particular, has always stayed close to her heart. It was only natural that she be one of the founders of a scholarship program.  Brown’s positions of leadership in her local church, Alpha Kappa Alpha, and on numerous community boards throughout the North Shore and Chicagoland area, support her belief that, “Joy is seeing people come behind you that you can mentor.”

The second founding member of UNITY is Yvonne Davis. She earned her undergraduate degree from Fisk University and graduate degree in Education Administration from Northwestern University. Davis is currently a retired school teacher, but her involvement in the community has far from slowed down. Her current and past participation and leadership roles in the field of education, her local church, Delta Sigma Theta, and many other influential programs in the area are examples of how genuine her passion is to make a positive impact on the community. As a young adult, Yvonne Davis’ frustration with all of the negative publicity of African Americans in the media furthered her determination to make a difference. She wanted to come up with a way to show the success and promising future of the African American community.

Together Davis and Brown, decided that one way to do that was to recognize the community’s young people. Thus began the UNITY scholarship program.

After a year, four organizations and one individual clearly saw the importance of UNITY and joined Brown and Davis’ efforts. The first five to do so were the Alpha Kappa Alpha, Delta Sigma Theta, and Kappa Alpha Psi fraternal organizations, the NAACP, and Ione S. Brown who integrated her existing Second Baptist Church Memorial Scholarship Program with UNITY.

By the second year, 13 additional organizations participated in UNITY’s support of the African American community’s high achieving students. That same year, the UNITY logo was proposed by Charlene Jones. The organizing committee immediately adopted it as the symbolic identity of the program.

Since that time, the organizational structure of the program has remained the same in its overall constitution and purpose.  Rotating chairmanship, set meeting structure, and non-disclosure of how much each organization donates in scholarship money each year have added to the overall unity and success of the program. “There are no big I’s and little u’s in this program,” mentioned Yvonne Davis. Currently, close to 20 groups now fall under the umbrella of organizations that support UNITY and over $100,000 in scholarship money is awarded.

The UNITY program has become a tradition and its participants part of a legacy in the African American community. It is comprised of a recognition portion, a presentation of awards, and a time for enjoying the food that families and friends donate for the reception.

What was once a distant vision between friends has become a motivator for today’s black youth, a chance for them to shine in their well-deserved acknowledgement, and an example of what a little unity can accomplish. Congratulations to all of this year’s winners.

 

Note: Article first appeared in the original, printed Shorefront Journal, Vol 6, No 3, 2005, and slightly updated.

Eleanor J. Frazier Moore: Embraced Grace, and Culture

—By Dino Robinson

Eleanor Frazier at podium, 1969

For eleven years, in a setting of grace, charm, and beauty, the Norshore Twelve, Inc. played host to its annual cotillion to formally present the Debutante’s of the year. This event attracted hundreds, within the African American community in Evanston and on the north shore, to the downtown Chicago Sherman House throughout the 1960s. The yearly anticipated gala would not have taken place if it were not for the tireless efforts of Eleanor J. Frazier.

Not more than a month would pass after the yearly event that Eleanor Frazier would start the frantic process over again. Activities included scheduling, selecting costuming, distributing press releases, determining themes and music, rehearsals and mailing invitations to invite a new set of young women. By that time there was less than nine months left for preparation for the gala evening.

Eleanor, better known to most as “Brownie”, was barely out of college when she first approached the men of the Norshore Twelve during the summer of 1959 and said, “We need to do something for our young ladies like the Deltas and Snakes in Chicago.”

Brownie reflected on her debut through Delta Sigma Theta Sorority at the Emerson Street YMCA. “I did not know what a cotillion was then”. Brownie said, “But I remember Boots Avery, Billie Childs, Camilla Parham Harris, Julia Turner, Beverly Wilson and others and what they taught me in being a lady.” The Deltas then had a program that introduced young ladies into adulthood in a formal process that cumulated with an evening event.

Brownie also referred to the Snakes Cotillion in Chicago. “I remember Rita Robinson and Sissy Butler from Evanston” Brownie said, “They made their debut in the Snakes Cotillion.” The Snakes was, and still is an active African American social organization in Chicago. Brownie, seeing that there was a lack of cultural enrichment programs for African American girls in Evanston, thought that an event similar to the Deltas and the Snakes was something that the men of the Norshore Twelve could undertake. These men felt the same.

Within that same year, Brownie had recruited, organized, trained and counseled a group of young ladies to experience an evening of class, grace, charm and culture, one which at that time was what many parents wanted for their daughters. The culminating event became known as the Norshore Twelve Cotillion. The Cotillion at its height was the most highly anticipated summer event.

Eleanor Frazier c1990s

Brownie, during the inception of the cotillion, was employed at the Evanston YWCA as the youth program director. A life-long Evanston resident, she attended the local schools and went on to college at Dillard University in Louisiana where she pledged Delta Sigma Theta. Brownie later finished her education at Northeastern Illinois University. “At that time in the 1970s, it was expected that you went to college.” Brownie said.

Brownie married William L. Moore, Ph.D. and moved to Houston, Texas in 1977. There she taught Science and Biology for 26 years. Before her move to Texas, her avocation involved developing and organizing the Norshore cotillion in Evanston. This commitment turned into a yearlong project.

During the 1960s in Chicago, as well as the rest of the United States, was a hostile environment for African American’s, then referred to as “Negro” or “Colored”. Racial segregation, housing restrictions, lynchings, race riots, voting privileges and job restrictions were all elements that, for many in the nation, risked their lives to fight for.

So for an organization of “Negro” men to organize and hold an event in downtown Chicago hotels was nothing short of “impossible” in most African American minds. However, the Norshore Twelve seemed not to be intimidated by these taboos.

Grand march at the Sherman House

Each July during the years 1960 to 1971, North Shore African American residents looked forward to the organization’s annual event. At its peak, more than 1,400 people packed the grand ballroom. At first, they held the cotillion at the Parkway Ballroom located at 4455 S. King Dr. in Chicago. When they outgrew that venue, they moved the cotillion to the former Sherman House at Clark and Randolph in downtown Chicago.

“I don’t know how we got into the Sherman House.” Byron said, “I guess through our various inquires, the Sherman House was the only one that responded.” Various people were instrumental in preparing the cotillion including Mr. Rickman who headed marketing; Mr. Holland was the Maitré d and Mr. Benny Price at the Foster Center (Fleetwood-Jourdain Center). “Without him there wouldn’t be a cotillion.” Brownie said, “He was the head custodian there. That is where we had our rehearsals. We would start around seven in the evening and not leave until past midnight.”

… She instilled in us to always strive toward perfection

“The idea behind the cotillion was to bring cultural enrichment to the young ladies.” Brownie said, “I felt as though the young ladies were being short-changed in not having such an program and event.” Participation in the cotillion was an experience that lasted nine months.

“The cycle began in July. Letters were sent to African American high school senior parents, inviting their daughter to participate in the cotillion.” Brownie describes, “Invitations an afternoon soireé were sent in October. November was the formal tea for prospective debutants. Once accepted, the young ladies were required to attend weekly meetings.” During the meetings, the ladies were instructed in posture, dance, dress fittings, make-up techniques, rehearsals, and culture etiquette.” Additional preparation included monitoring their school GPA, applications to college and their eventual acceptance letters to college. “The major expectation for participating in the cotillion was matriculation into college,” Brownie said.

Brownie utilized her time and Norshore Twelve’s money in preparation. She hired choreographers such as Michael Frederics from Gus Giordano dance studio; photographers from Zeloof-Stuart Photography Studios and caterers. For musical entertainment, the Willie Randall band was frequently used. “Brownie ran it all.” Byron Wilson said, a Norshore Twelve charter member. “Whatever she needed, she got it, no matter the cost. The men played a low-key role. Aside from finances, it was Brownie who ran the program.”

1964 prospectives meeting at the home of Robert Cobb.

“Brownie was a very exceptional person,” Gwen Burton Poole said, a 1961 debutant, “She has this gift, a talent in organizing the girls and the event… and the patience she had during that time… She instilled in us to always strive toward perfection.”

In addition to the meetings, the participants had to solicit ads, hold fundraisers and seek sponsorships to defray the cost of the souvenir book. Parents were involved as sponsors and were required to host at least one social event at their home. Occasionally, a member of the Norshore Twelve would step in to serve as an escort or as a surrogate father.

All participants wore white ball gowns; a simple string of pearls with matching single-pearl earrings and 16 button kid or cloth gloves. Debutants selected their escorts for the evening gala. The escorts wore identical summer wear including top hats and sometimes canes for the debs and escorts dance. All of their efforts and a years worth of meetings were in preparation for the cotillion. Debutants, their parents and a showing from the Evanston community stepped out in high fashion for the evening.

“This was an opportunity to be with girls that we grew up with. This was the late time we may be together for a while, to do something meaningful.” Colette Hill-Duncan said, a 1967 Debutant. “I grew up a Norshore Twelve kid. This was something to look forward to.”

The Cotillion evening was a gala that involved a grand entrance of all the attendees. Following were the announced entrance of each debutant escorted by their father or a Norshore Twelve member. Following dinner and live music came the well-rehearsed and choreographed performances by the debutants and their young escorts as individual groups of ladies and gentlemen, then as couples.

“This was the social event of Evanston,” said Brownie, “School superintendents, government officials, the crème of the crop, all came out.” “And a lot of Whites would attend as well,” Byron said. “Write-ups would appear in the Evanston Review, The Chicago Tribune and the Chicago Defender.”

The Norshore Twelve Cotillion began July 1960 and through July 1971

Each year, the cotillion was identified by a theme. The earlier ones took on names off of classical music scores or stage plays. Later they were more thematic with choreographed performances that related to them. Some theme names included “Jour de Romain”, “The King and I”, “Black and Beautiful – Black and Tan Fantasy” and “Mod-Mad-Mardi Gras”. “The best year was the Black and Tan Fantasy in 1969.” Brownie said, “We utilized the music of Duke Ellington.” Byron agreed.

As the popularity of the Cotillion grew, they outgrew the space provided at the Parkway Ballroom. “One night, there were so many people dancing and enjoying themselves, the floors bounced.” Byron said. After the cotillion event, after parties took place in the penthouses. The penthouse rooms at the Sherman House were rented out by members of the Norshore Twelve or by parents of the debutants.

1969 Debutantes at the home of landscaper Tennis Saunders. Photo by Zeloof-Stuart Photography

“After the cotillion, my father rented a suite after the cotillion.” Sarah Ashmore Diggs recalls, a 1969 debutant “After an amazing day and evening of being treated like a princess at the Sherman House, my friend and I wanted to sneak off to one of the penthouse parties. To my surprise, it was my father who was throwing that party!”

As the 1970s rolled around, times were changing. The rising movement of “I’m Black and I’m Proud” cued a new generation of African Americans to take a new look at its culture and social standing. It was becoming more and more difficult to find young ladies wanting to participate in the cotillion. “The younger generation was loosing interest in it. The parents liked it. But this trend was happening with our other organizations as well.” Byron said. During this time, the cotillion may have been perceived as assimilation by the younger generation. Between 1960 and 1969, the number of participants averaged 15 in the cotillion. In 1970, ten participated and the last cotillion in 1971, only eight took their bows.

The last cotillion spelled the end of the annual gala. Participation was met with animosity. “Things were just getting bad.” Byron said.

“The girls stopped cooperating.” Brownie said, “So I finally had to say, “I’m through!”

“And when Brownie said that, that was the end of the cotillion.” Byron finished. Most participants had no understanding of the time, planning, energy, arrangement or the money that was involved in preparing the evening’s gala event.

The cotillion may have lived out its cycle with the new generation new sense of cultural pride, ideas and direction, at least in the north. “The Links, for example, still have cotillions in the south today.” Brownie said, “I would like to see something like the cotillion come back… not seen as an assimilation, but to enforce that we [too] have a culture.”

The Norshore Twelve Cotillion began July 1960 and through July 1971. The preparation involved many dedicated businesses, parents, volunteers and the community. However, the event was pulled together by the tireless efforts of Brownie Frazier. During its existence, more than 150 young women had experienced the training process that cumulated in an evening of grace, charm and beauty that became known as “The Cotillion”. Many of these participants still have fond memories of the Norshore Twelve annual cotillion.

“The warmest feeling was that my family participated in the entire process.” Sarah reflected, “The whole community supported us.”

 

Note: This article first appeared in the original quarterly Shorefront Journal, Volume 8, Number 1, winter 2006 issue. All images courtesy Eleanor Frazier and located in the Shorefront archives.

Juneteenth: Celebrating and Honoring a Heritage

2016 Juneteenth celebration in Evanston

Juneteenth is the oldest known celebration commemorating the ending of slavery in the United States. Juneteenth is a day of celebration or… jubilation. A day filled with: Entertainment, recreation, reflection on education and self-improvement, guest speakers and prayer services. A time where we recognize and honor our elders. . .and our youth.

But lets think back for a moment here and reflect on how Juneteenth came about. Imagine with me if you may:

June 19^th, 1865. Union soldiers arrived at Galveston, Texas with news for the community: The war had ended and that all who were enslaved are now free. Keep in mind that this news arrived two and a half years after President Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863.

Slavery was allowed in Southern Illinois

Union enforcement in Texas was negligible and was unable to enforce the Executive order until after the surrender of General Lee in April 1865 and stronger Union forces arriving in Texas. Read to the people of Texas was General Order Number 3, which began with:

“The people of Texas are informed that in accordance with a Proclamation from the Executive of the United States, all slaves are free. This involves an absolute equality of rights and rights of property between former masters and slaves, and the connection heretofore existing between them becomes that between employer and free laborer.”

The reactions to this news ranged from shock to immediate jubilation. With nowhere to go, former enslaved Blacks choices were few; remaining where they were or migrate to other parts of the country – as – free – people.

Many families migrated to the North Shore directly from the south and from Canada immediately after the Civil War. And to think, Illinois was almost a slave state. Before 1865, one could not really be a “free person of color” in Illinois as the Black Codes were in effect that kept a person of color as a registered indentured person. Slavery was allowed in Southern Illinois.¹

Violetta Cullen delivering the speech

I think about Maria Murray, Daniel Garnett and Hettie Corn before 1865- and other families that arrived shortly after the end of the Civil War –George Robinson, Nathan Branch, Andrew Scott of Evanston; The Mathews family in Lake Forest; the Calhoun family in Kenilworth; the Smith family in Wilmette; the Wilson family of Glencoe … Their struggles, life stories, tenacity and perseverance… and with luck… they lived and forged a new history as – free – people.

In this early history here on the north shore, these communities had:
Established five churches (and we celebrated)
Established Evanston Sanitarium – Hospital (and we celebrated)
Established Emerson Street YMCA (and we celebrated)

Early in our history on the north shore, this community had:
Fought Jim Crow (and we persevered)
Fought segregation (and we persevered)
Organized dozens of civic and social clubs to combat injustices and service our community (and we persevered)

Our local communities have accomplished much throughout its history on the North Shore. We have made history. And we should celebrate.

So we celebrate Juneteenth, celebrating African American freedom, achievement, self-development and remember that we must show respect for all cultures. As Juneteenth celebrations continue across this nation, the events that have transpired back in 1865 in Texas, will not be forgotten. For all of our roots tie back to this fertile soil from which many were delivered to, worked on, built on, and we all should celebrate, a national day of pride that is embodied as Juneteenth.

 

Note: A public speech written by Shorefront staff for two separate Juneteenth community celebrations in 2015 delivered by Dino Robinson and in 2016 delivered by Violetta Cullen.
All photographs by Evanston Photographic Studios.

1. Douglas Harper, “Slavery in the North” http://slavenorth.com/northwest.htm

Products and the Entrepreneurial Spirit

—By Dino Robinson

While William Twiggs was a locally, and historically well documented businessman and an active member of several organizations, little has been mentioned about his wife, Martha Twiggs. Family decedents mention that she had a home-based business, selling wigs for women made from natural hair first at Oak Avenue near Church Street in Evanston then later in a storefront next to her husbands print shop on Emerson Street. There, she marketed her own product, “Twiggaline”, a hair growth product.

In 1916, Madam C. J. Walker’s came to Evanston to deliver her Lecture on “The Negro Woman in Business” at both Second Baptist and Ebenezer A.M.E. Church.¹ In her lecture, Madam Walker “Urges her Sisters to Rise above the Wash Tub and Cook Kitchen and Make a Place in the Commercial World.”² One wonders if Martha Twiggs may have been inspired by the lecture and ventured off to follow the shared tenants from Madam C. J. Walker lecture. Shorefronts only wish is that someone may have a sample of the Twiggaline package or product today.

Several years ago, Shorefront began acquiring samples of contemporary “products” for Shorefronts archive that illustrate the entrepreneurial ethics of these North Shore communities. Which leads us to wonder . . . who we have not come across at this time that have produced their own product for distribution . . .

Carrying the tradition of Martha Twiggs today includes, Georgia Parker, Larry Alexander, Ashley Askew-Bell and former Evanston resident Lauryn N. Nwankpa, all have products geared to hair and skin care.

Lauryn, through her business Hair To There LLC, produces a product for natural hair care. She markets her product on line, at related conventions and other showcase venues. Recently, she redesigned her packaging and website and included an infomercial focused on natural hair care.

A degreed chemist, Georgia Parker has over 20 hair and skin care products under the name Ashley Lauren Products. Ashley Lauren at one time had a storefront on Davis Street in Evanston across from the post office. Now, focused on distribution, her products can be purchased on line and at a few retail outlets in the Chicago area.

Scrubfusion owner Ashley Askew-Bell, offers several body scrub products, beard oils and candles on her site for both men and women. Customers can also request custom orders for special events.

Patent holder, and former Salon owner, Larry Alexander, also known as Mickey III, developed an applicator instrument for laying relaxer in a clean and consistent manner under the name AppliTech. Video demonstrations showcase the proper use of his patent protected tool.

A couple of Food and edible products are offered by barbeque owner Hecky Powell and Chef Journey Shannon.

A chocolatier, Journey Shannon has a line of chocolates and other crafted editable foods under the name Noir d’Ebene, and can be ordered online, at select events, fairs and industry shows.

And of course, Heck’s Barbeque line of sauces, spices/rubs and most recently added, soda. The product can be found in retail, online and at his place of business. Proceeds from his “Juneteenth” soda sales, helps to fund projects through the family’s Forrest Powell Foundation.

Shorefront is sure that it is missing so many more entrepreneurs who have packaged products. Though this article focuses on products, we know there are some interesting inventors who lived in the North Shore area. Industrial Designer Charles Harrison who’s work with Sears has designed many iconic items. Evanston residents Delbert Alexander Sr. and Jr. both have created workable prototype machines (baseball and tabletop bowling). In the 1950s, Glencoe resident Asa Taylor prototyped what would lay the foundation of the modern hydraulic hospital beds used today . . . But that is another article and initiative in hopes to acquire prototypes if they still exist.

 

Sources:

1. Chicago Defender: “Will Lecture in Chicago”, January 29, 1916, p. 8; “Prairie State Events. . . ,” By J.R. Moore, Feb. 12, 1916, p. 5; “MME. C. J. Walker Royally Received Here”, Feb. 19, 1916, p. 2.
2. Indianapolis Freeman, “The Negro Woman in Business”, September 20, 1913, p. 1.

Tradesmen

— By Bruce Allen King

Q. B. Frazier, plasterer

Coming from a family that was grounded in Marcus Garvey’s theories of self-respect self-reliance and self-sufficiency, there was never any talk of “I can’t”, “I don’t know how” and “It can’t be done”. What I know now to be encouragement was, to a youth of 4, 5 or 6, more akin to abuse and denial. Being “post-depression era” children of “depression era” parents, meant you learned how to fix things and learned to think 3 or 4 times before throwing anything away.

My very first job in the family business was to pick up all loose nails and to straighten any and all of them out that could be salvaged, to be used later.

My family, on my father’s side was in the construction business. My grandfather, Arthur Chester King, from Abbeville, South Carolina was a carpenter, who after being run out of town amid threats against his life, came to Evanston and settled here, making a home for himself and soon after his arrival, marrying Ella Childs on September 28, 1916 at 1107 Emerson Street. Together they had a family of nine, 5 boys and 4 girls.

Arriving here in 1913, before the digging of the Sanitary District Channel, he chose the West Side of Evanston, Dodge Avenue in particular, to build his home. So, in 1916, my grandfather began building his empire. His first house was at 2031 Dodge Avenue. Northwestern University was expanding and with the work there, there was also demolition. The door frames and windows of his first house came from such expansion/demolition, not to mention framing lumber. It was also a place of work for a few of the “colored” tradesmen.

Because of the times, particularly Jim Crow, it was essential that my grandfather align himself with other “colored” tradesmen. At that time, he was aligned with Black plumbers, Black electricians, Black plasterers, Black bricklayers and Black laborers. Many, many of the houses, churches and businesses in the 5^th Ward were built, moved in, converted, enlarged and repaired by this consortium of Black tradesmen. In addition to “tradesmen”, there were businesses; grocers, butchers, ice-men, coal men, lawyers, accountants, teachers and people who filled in for most other professions needed. We “made do” in a lot of situations.

They were teetotalers for the most part.

Black Evanstonians, understanding that they had only themselves, the families of the tradesmen, their church members, neighbors and those they knew in Abbeville, Due West, and McCormick, South Carolina, went about building what they knew. . . “The Village”. With the abundance of land, every house had a garden next to it and in the case of my family, we had a very large community garden. My grandfather was a very good friend of the patriarch of the Perrin family, Miller, a friend from Abbeville, S. C. In fact, my grandfather introduced Miller to the woman who became his wife and the mother of his 13 children, 9 boys and 4 girls. In fact, the “community garden” was on Simpson, on the north side of the street between Dodge and Brown (now Bridge St.) where the park is today. Miller Perrin had horses and wagons and plowed the fields where the larger gardens were and the “community garden” was first every season. What I remember most fondly of the Perrin enterprise were the fall and winter wagon rides along the “Bridle Path”, which was an old fire break that traveled the length of the wooded area next to the Channel on the Evanston side from Greenbay Road all the way to Main Street.

On my family property was two Bartlett pear trees, an apple tree, grapevines, raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, peanuts, chickens, pigeons, rabbits, a cow and a personal garden with corn, cabbage, collards, mustards, turnips, spinach, beans, peas, peppers, onions, carrots, radishes, tomatoes, hollyhocks, roses, lilacs and marigolds. My grandmother salt cured meats, put up preserves and wintered over root vegetables. There was always enough to share.

The days and evenings were for working and preparing for work. The tradesmen would get together and confer, inform, plan and do whatever was necessary for one another to make it through another year. These gentlemen networked long before the term came into vogue. Remembering how truly gentle and civilized they were is awesome. They were teetotalers for the most part. They were all very quiet and pretty soft spoken, unless there was eminent need to raise your voice. There was always a copy of Robert’s Rules of Order somewhere close. But, what I find most fantastic was their sense of humor. In the life of the “Villager” there was something only the villagers understood and that was signifying. To some, it would be considered a form of mean sarcasm, but to most it was way more circumspect. To be able to signify well was a much valued and greatly honored art. It was as much for building up and redress as it was for tearing down and pointing out and correcting those actions, words and thoughts of the ones targeted. Few, if any were beyond being signified on. Most didn’t like it and the only ones who really appreciated it being done, were beneficiaries of the good that came from it. . . truly they were rare.

Today when I travel Dodge Avenue, from Simpson to Church Street, or from Greenbay Road to Hartrey, I am truly humbled at what my grandfather, my father, my uncles and the members of the my extended family accomplished for themselves and others by way of building houses, moving in houses, adding onto houses, fixing up houses and building a wholesome and viable community. In the chaos of today, I truly appreciate the rare gifts and principles that allowed them to thrive in an era of lynching and racial tensions. . . very similar to today.

I Believe I Can Fly: William “Wild Bill” Holmes

— By Kimberly Holmes Ross and Brittany Estell, Esq.

Signature Move

“Once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return.”

—Leonardo da Vinci

William Allen Holmes was a pilot who acquired an appetite for flying. Not a pilot in the traditional sense, a man in a captain’s hat, white shirt, and pinned wings greeting you at the front of the plane, and responsible for getting you to your destination. No, that’s not “Wild Bill.” Bill’s airplane was a Harley Davidson motorcycle, and he was dressed in his denim, leather, a hat, and he flew! Feet standing on top of a two-wheeled pedestal, traveling at 10+mph arms stretched across the air, eyes wide open and the crowd going wild.

William “Wild Bill” Holmes was born in Columbus, Ohio, January 15, 1932. He ironically shares the same birthday as the great Martin Luther King Jr., both having a tenacious spirit, unwilling to give up on what they believed in, and unapologetically themselves.

Bill spent his early years between Columbus, Ohio, and Cokesbury, South Carolina. As a small child he loved everything on wheels. It was rumored that at the age of 3 he began “trick riding” on his tricycle. As a teen his zeal/zest for life came through bikes, motorcycles, and cars. Through his antics, he earned the nickname “Wild Bill,” never knowing what he’d do next on wheels. After high school he joined the United States Army 82^nd Airborne where he jumped out of planes and was involved in live combat. He was honorably discharged with a Merit Unit Citation, a Korean Service Medal with two Bronze Service Stars and the United Nations Service Medal.

“Wild Bill” Posed on his bike

Upon on returning to the states he joined his mother in Evanston, IL, where he explored many professions, including: Clayton Marks, Evanston Bus Company, the City of Evanston – Sanitation Department, Jewel Food Store which all led to him to owning trucking company “Holmes & Sons Trucking.” Even with the many jobs he took on he always made time for his first love, his Harley. Wild Bill was a “Harley Man” who began to teach himself to do tricks and stunts on his bike. One of the first tricks he learned was the legendary “wheelie”, a stunt where you pull the bike up and ride on one wheel. He was known for doing it for blocks! In fact, he had been recorded performing the stunt at a little under a mile. What made this extraordinary was that because he rode a full size Harley, the bike was heavier than most bikes, making the stunt that much harder to execute. Once he accomplished this stunt, his passion and education for stunting took off!

Performing in front of audience

He taught himself more and more tricks including the “slow drag,” “switch back,” “one-handed wheelie,” and “lazy boy.” As he attended and performed at field meets, rodeos, and drag races, people around the country began to know who he was and look forward to him appearing at many of their events. You could find him at rallys hosted by Hurry Kane Riders Motorcycle Club, C.T.M.C., Rough Riders Motorcycle Club, M.T.T., Apache Motorcycle Club, C. J. Harley Davidson, Mighty Romans Motorcycle Club, Magnificent Spoilers Motorcycle Club, Columbus Big Three MCC and many more. He became a legendary stunt rider and competitor who won hundreds of trophies; so many that my brothers and I often wondered if he was ever going to stop winning! Our basement was filled wall to wall with trophies, certificates, and awards, the more he won, the more we had to dust.

Although he loved touring independently he knew he could pursue his passion and make it his life’s work if he was able to obtain a sponsorship. As a loyal customer, he approached Harley Davidson. With his portfolio, references, and a vision in hand, he reached out seeking an endorsement. The powers that be at Harley explained that “Wild Bill” was not the image that was their interest and there was no market for a Black stunt rider. A few years later they signed Evil Knievel.

This obstacle did not stop or discourage him. No, this only fueled his fire. He went on to sponsor his own motorcycle meets and tour around the country supporting other Black riders and their events. He was among the founders of “The Untouchables Motorcycle Club.” Formed in the 1960’s, The Untouchables were a group of Black motorcyclist in the Evanston community who did not limit their activities to cycling, but also provided toys for children at holidays, hosted picnics, field meets, and other community gatherings. The group was active through the 1990’s.

Back view of vest

Front view of vest

In addition, as a member of the American Motorcyclists Association, he helped organize the National Bikers Roundup in 1977 encompassing a group of African American motorcycle clubs. The round up is a five-day event where attendee enjoys exhibits, vendors, stunt shows, entertainment, and a host of other motorcycle-related experiences. “Wild Bill” attended every round up, many times as a performer, until 2007.

One of my most cherished memories of my dad is when he rebuilt a 1973 Super- Glide bike by hand in our basement. When he finished, everyone wondered how he planned to get it out. The bike was huge while the stairs and door were narrow. It didn’t faze him; he rode it right up the stairs into the back yard, it was like magic! Today, that bike is still in running condition, and sits in our garage, like a plane waiting on its pilot.

William “Wild Bill” Holmes

August 2007 William Allen “Wild Bill” Holmes took his last ride, 1,046 miles round-trip. He rode from Evanston, IL to Kansas City, MO, for the Buffalo Soldiers Motorcycle Club National Bikers Round Up. October 18, 2007, he transitioned and completed his flight log. No longer flying on his Harley, but now soaring with angel wings, he left us with the reminder, “if you believe in yourself, you can fly too.”