As I Remember It

As I Remember Itneedles, extractions, pain and bleeding. To this day I amambivalent at best about seeing a dentist. Finally, second grade was over and so were the half-daysessions. When I returned in the fall I would have a newteacher and would be in school mornings and afternoons witha lunch break in between. In my mind, this signified that Iwas more grown up, and that I was ready to step into mynew status.by Georgia A. Dorsey 97

As I Remember Iti THIRD TIME'S THE CHARMBY NOW I HAD GOTTEN USED to lining up in the rear of theschool out of sight of my mother. All summer I had beenexcited about the changes that being in the third grade wouldbring to my life. Firstly, I would attend school for a full day,which sounded ideal to a child who was growing increasinglyin love with the idea of learning. Secondly, I would begin tolearn cursive writing, which meant that I could forever leavebehind the connotations of “babyishness” that printing andusing that awful wide-spaced paper conferred. I'd felt like aveteran when I entered the second grade, but now I was evenmore seasoned after the experiences of the past school year. There are lots of things to get out of the way on the firstby Georgia A. Dorsey 98

As I Remember Itday of school. You have to seek out old acquaintances andgreet them. Then you have to sniff out anybody who is newand determine whether they are worthy of your attention.This decision is usually made after conferring with a selectgroup of returning students for whom any new competitioncould threaten established statuses. Finally, but actuallymore important than the first two, is the assessment of thenew school clothes worn by your peers. This assessment isless important in the primary grades than it becomes later,but by the third grade one begins to notice who is wearingwhat and who is not. By far, the most stylishly dressed girlin my circle at that time was Sherrye N. Though she had a brother, I believe she was the apple of herparents' eyes. Unfailingly, her wardrobe was pitch-perfect,right down to the ribbons that held her curly hair inabeyance. My mother was good when it came to makingeverything, no matter what it was, look crisp and good. Hermother had style. And, truth be told, she also had far fewerchildren. So there we were—boys in new, stiff blue jeans,girls in stiff petticoats and dresses—all assembled and readyto march forth and see what awaited us. It was not what Ihad expected. The lady who presided over my third grade class shouldhave retired 10 years earlier. Maybe she should never havebeen a teacher at all. I make the comment about retirementbecause she was visibly much older than all the otherteachers so one assumes that she was. Whether she had everbeen an effective educator or was at the age to retire was amoot point by the time I walked through her classroom door. I really don't recall whether she had been a teacher at theby Georgia A. Dorsey 99

As I Remember Itschool for my first two years there but, if she had, then herlack of skills and/or initiative were known to those in charge.I think I am being generous when I say that I may havelearned two useful things in her classroom that year. Ourclass repeated the same lessons over and over again forweeks, not because we didn't understand the concepts butbecause she was either unable or unwilling to teach anythingelse. Today, she would have been removed after the appropriatereview and perhaps placed into a non-teaching positionbefore she was put out to pasture. This did not happen. Shewas allowed to continue as a teacher even after parentalcomplaints. True, I don't know what conversations ormeetings occurred between her and the administration, but ifany discussions about her performance did occur they did notresult in her being removed from the classroom. As a consequence, the classroom was unruly most of thetime because we were not intellectually engaged. My friendAnthony C., who sat behind me in class, spent a good deal ofhis time drawing. In his case this worked out because hebecame a talented artist in adulthood. But the rest of ussuffered. She could not control some of the boys, who sensedweakness and were no longer afraid to test their limits. Theyhad begun to sneak and write words on the blackboard toanger her. They were the typical words that boys their agepicked up from older boys, words that deal with thereproductive organs or process. While the rest of ussnickered behind our books, she huffed and puffed anddemanded that the culprit identify himself, seeminglyby Georgia A. Dorsey 100

As I Remember Itexpecting the offending scribe to run to the front of the room,arms raised over his head in submission to the gods, andclaim his handiwork. Everybody in class knew who did it ofcourse. If we didn't actually see it being done, we knew it hadto be one of a certain group of boys who hung together. I'msure she also knew, but she never took any action againstthem. Thankfully, she never held the rest of us hostagebecause of their misdeeds. This cadre of boys would continuetheir tyrannical ways straight through high school. One ortwo made something of their lives, but the rest fell by thewayside. In June, mercifully, third grade was over. I had beenpromoted, as had everyone else in my class. Realistically,how could it have been any other way? She certainly couldn'thold anybody back for not learning what she hadn't taught.Still, I didn't feel that much more enlightened than I had backin September, unless I considered the things my sister wasteaching me at home. It would be good to leave the constant upheaval of herclassroom and spend the summer in the orderly chaos of myfamily life. Unfortunately, and perhaps because of theexperiences with this teacher, some of my classmates'parents had decided to either move to a different schooldistrict or to put their child into a private school. Neither ofthese was an option for me and the loss of some of myfriends and their companionship would be felt for years tocome. In addition to the subdivisions that were being built in Robbins, there was a new subdivision being built on theby Georgia A. Dorsey 101

As I Remember It other side of the Rock Island railroad tracks that ran along the far eastern edge of the village. This area became known colloquially as “across the tracks”. Even though at least one street on that side was in the village, the term really applied to the California Gardens subdivision, which was located in the extreme southern section of Blue Island. It was a community of predominately modest brick single family homes that resembled many similar neighborhoods being built at that time. The only difference was that this was intended specifically for African-Americans, who had no other permanent presence in Blue Island. And it was to this community that Sherrye N. and her family moved. The subdivision was still in the same school district, but the school she would attend was integrated and had a better reputation than the one she and I had shared for three years. In a way, she had been my peek into a different world and way of living as well as being a friend. I would not see her again until we reunited as freshmen in high school. My friend Anthony C.'s family, too, had had enough. Theywere a family that originally hailed from Louisiana. For along time I thought they were Caucasian, even with theirblack accents. It would not have been out of the norm sinceRobbins boasted residents from all across the racial and colorspectrum. It wasn't until much later that I found out theywere Creoles, which meant as little to me then as it does nowbecause I only cared about Anthony, my friend. The familylived in one of the subdivisions that had been platted anddeveloped a few years earlier, the ones that were referred toby Georgia A. Dorsey 102

As I Remember Itas “the new homes”. Theirs was an attractive array ofduplexes situated on tree-lined streets that seemed to windand undulate until they almost touched one another. At least,that was my impression. Anthony's family was as large asmine, if not larger, but his parents made the decision toenroll the children in a Catholic school in Blue Island. I wouldnot see my friend nor witness his wonderful personalityagain until we crossed paths in the lunch room at SoutheastHigh School. Another friend, Pauline, whose parents were friends withmine, was leaving, too. Pauline had been one of the fewchildren that my mother had allowed to visit inside thehouse, probably because she was accompanying her mother.They were moving to a place called Hopkins Park, inKankakee County. Hopkins Park was an area where blackpeople who sought elbow room and the freedom to live arural life settled. Over the years, I would hear of others wholeft the village and moved there also. Pauline's father starteda farm and I remember my parents taking us for a visit. Itwas the first time I had ever seen or smelled a pig or a pigsty. Though the entire thing revolted me, I saw that myfriend had taken to her new life with ease. I never saw herafter that and wondered for years what became of her. About this same time, E.C.'s family was picking up stakesas well. They had rented a house on the north side of town,which meant that my bubbly friend would be leaving theschool and the neighborhood. She would still be in the schooldistrict, but she would attend the new school that had beenbuilt to alleviate the overcrowding. Because of her proximityto me and availability to me as a playmate, I would feel herby Georgia A. Dorsey 103

As I Remember Itabsence most of all. I would no longer hear her calling to mymother and asking if I could come out and play. I would nolonger see her long braids bouncing as she ran through thepath that led to her house. And I would no longer see theassortment of interesting-looking people who visited them,an assortment that provided lots of entertainment for me andmy siblings. I would have to get along without all of it, and Iwas sad. But my separation from her would not be as long asthe one from Sherrye N. and Anthony because we wouldattend the same junior high. It was something to lookforward to. Ironically, there was another departure. My third gradeteacher would no longer be at Lincoln School. Instead, shewas being transferred to the school that E.C. would attend.Some time later, I heard that she lost control of her car andran over a student at the school, requiring the amputation ofthe child's leg. Finally, they got rid of her.by Georgia A. Dorsey 104

As I Remember Iti MENTORSHIPON THE WEST SIDE OF KEDZIE Avenue, between ClaireBlvd and 135th street, sat one of the most magnificent homesof its time. It was a mid-century glass and brick mansionthat belonged to the African-American entrepreneur, civicleader, businessman and millionaire, S.B. Fuller. The squarestructure surrounded an interior courtyard. A portion of theeast facade, visible to drivers on Kedzie, was made of floor-to-ceiling glass, which allowed curious passers-by a fleetingglance inside. To offset the severity of the angles, a circulardome had been inserted, which gave the mansion anotherworldly appearance when illuminated at night. Across Kedzie, on the the triangleformed by Kedzie, 135th and Claire,he had constructed a beautiful pondby Georgia A. Dorsey 105

As I Remember Itand surrounded it with weeping willows. It was always a joyfor me to see the swans floating there. To me, it seemed that his property was endless, composedas it was of beautiful park-like grounds. It would be yearsbefore I realized that there were other houses among thetrees, houses that were not as magnificent but stillimpressive. In one of those houses lived the woman whowould become one of the most influential people of my lifeduring this time. Nobody really knows how human attachments are formed,though there are probably as many theories as there arepeople defending their dissertations. As far as I amconcerned, it comes down to simple attraction based on thesame techniques that other species of animal life employ.Short of actually sniffing each other, we use our senses todetermine who we like and dislike and who we are drawn to.In the case of Constance Ramona Smith Dougherty, I likedher a lot. By the time one reached fourth grade at Lincoln, you wereon your way out. The school only housed grades one throughfive. After that, students were sent to the upper levelelementary—or junior high school—in the village, where theycompleted grades six through eight. To be in fourth grademeant that you were now an example to the students in thegrades below you. More was expected from you inachievement, leadership and decorum. Students in fourthand fifth grades were routinely sent to monitor theclassrooms of the first and second grade teachers who mighthave a meeting to attend or, as I found out later, needed asmoke break. We were the ones entrusted to carry writtenby Georgia A. Dorsey 106

As I Remember Itmessages between the teachers. We were the hall monitorsand patrol boys (there were no patrol girls). We were theones who helped the teachers decorate the ever-changingbulletin boards in the hallways. We were growing up. My fourth grade classroom and home-away-from-homethat year would be on the third and top floor of the old partof the school. Undoubtedly done on purpose, for the mostpart each grade was housed on a higher floor than the gradebefore it. My dreaded third grade classroom had been on thesecond floor. Perhaps the classroom locations weresomeone's theory on the allusion of progress and rising insociety. I'm just guessing. I really don't know. The floors inthat section of the school were wooden, which meant thatevery scrape of a shoe or desk would reverberate and echo.It also meant that, unless they tip-toed, we could hear thedistinctive sounds of our teachers' high heels as they madetheir way to or from the classrooms. And nobody's high heelsmade a more distinctive sound than Mrs. Dougherty's. Though taller than us students, she really wasn't very tallat all. I'm not sure she reached five feet. But her height hadnothing to do with the sheer power of her personality. Whenshe spoke, not only did we students listen, but so did theother teachers. She had a job to do and she was not going tolet anything or anybody get in her way. Looking back, it couldn't have been easy for her. She hadbeen handed a classroom full of students that had beentaught virtually nothing the year before; she could not beginwith a normal fourth grade curriculum. Also, becausediscipline had been virtually non-existent, she had to imposea very strict classroom structure in order to keep disruptionby Georgia A. Dorsey 107

As I Remember Itto a minimum. To add to this, the final phase of new homeshad been completed and new students were being added tothe classroom throughout the year as families moved in. Idon't know how other teachers handled the disruption, but Irecall very few problems in our classroom that year. Whenfaced with the impossible, make it possible. I was impressed. I don't remember when she first took an interest in me orwhy. Maybe it was because I didn't give her any trouble.Even though I was surrounded by rowdiness, I knew betterthan to participate. Maybe she sensed in me a willingnessand eagerness to learn. Whatever her motivation was, shemade me her project, giving me increasingly challengingwork and opportunities to learn new things. I responded by applying myself with a fervor that stillsurprises me to this day. Having learned virtually nothing inthird grade, I was more than making up for it now. With herencouragement, I took on the challenges of reading booksthat should have been over my head. I began to compose andwrite. Never a big fan of math, I even mastered long divisionin order to free up more time for my other intellectualpursuits. Other teachers were taking notice and so, too, were otherstudents. The other fourth grade class was connected to oursby a shared door. Not to be outdone, that teacher identified astudent in her class who she thought would be her version ofme. When that approach fell short, she threw in her lot withMrs. Dougherty and joined her in her efforts. Now I had twoteachers who were beaming light on me. Unfortunately, Itwas a light that shone too brightly for some. From the day in third grade when a girl had made aby Georgia A. Dorsey 108

As I Remember Itdisparaging remark about my personalized pencils I knew thenegative energy accompanying envy, even if I didn't know theword. Time and life have taught me that people like her arenot mean, they are just unhappy. And there were plenty ofunhappy students in my fourth grade classroom, especiallyamong the cabal of boys that had terrorized our third gradeteacher. Before long, I was given the predictable designation of“teacher's pet”, which was probably true in my case. She norI made any attempts to hide the fact that I loved learning andshe loved helping me to learn. True, she may have beenusing me to motivate the other students, but I didn't care. Iwas in the catbird seat and loving every minute of it. Andeverything was fine as long as class was in session. Whenschool let out, though, it was a different story. Living across the street from the school had its advantages.Number one was that I could go home for lunch, which meantthat I could watch Lunchtime Little Theater on television.Number two was that I could usually outrun the group ofboys who wanted to beat me up. I would be safely on myporch before they caught up to me. I suppose if they couldn'tterrorize this teacher they had to get out their aggressionsome way or another. The only motivation they seemed toneed was that I was “smart”. Given what became of most ofthem, that's ironic. But Earl, Curtis, Eugene, Melvin, Marvinand Maurice continued their intimidation until my mothergot wind of it. As I have stated before, nobody messed with my mother.Just the sight of her standing in the yard was enough to sendthem in the other direction. I suppose I should have beenby Georgia A. Dorsey 109

As I Remember Itdeveloping some self defense skills of my own by then. Itseems that most of my peers had begun to rely more onthemselves and less on grownups. But I had my “head in abook” as my mother put it, so she continued to act asprotector and sentry. With the cocoon of protectionprovided by my teachers and that provided by my family andespecially my mother, I continued in my quest for more andgreater knowledge. Even with all the stresses they were under, the teachersand staff found ways to have fun with each other. One day anew student arrived in our classroom. This was nothingunusual because new students had been arriving all yearlong. He was brought in by the assistant principal andintroduced to the teacher, who in turn introduced him to theclass and gave him a seat assignment. After lunch, hereturned late. When he finally did show up, he was carryinga load of books that he said had been sent by another teacher.When Mrs. Dougherty asked him why he had been in anotherteacher's classroom, his answer was that he was one of thatteacher's students. Still puzzled, but probably thinking hewas just confused, she told him to take his seat. When hedidn't know which seat to take, she finally figured it out. Theboys were identical twins, and the other teachers had decidedto have a little fun with the fact that she did not know this.Shortly thereafter, the original twin walked into theclassroom and stood next to his brother. We all got a goodlaugh out of that one. The teachers used to have students act as couriers betweenclassrooms, sometimes requiring them to run back and forththree of four times with answers and answers to answers.by Georgia A. Dorsey 110

As I Remember ItMore often than not, the teachers needed to borrowsomething from another teacher. It was during one of theseexchanges that I learned something about the Englishlanguage. One of the teachers sent a note to Mrs. Doughertyrequesting the return of her Elmer's Glue. The studentcourier was instructed to go back to that teacher and ask herhow it could be her Elmer's Glue, if it belonged to Elmer. Itwas her version of a mini English lesson. There were other things going on in the world besidesschool. For instance, around this time there was a lot ofactivity at our church because a new pastor had beenselected. My father would retain his position as assistantpastor under this new leadership. The new pastor and family,originally from southern Mississippi, was relocating from theSan Francisco Bay area and I recall a lot of hub-bub aboutfinding them a place to live and getting them settled. Thisfamily, the Cooks, would go on to be part of my life and thevillage for decades to come. One artifact I recall from that period is a picture taken atthe installation ceremony, with all of the church leadershipsitting in front of the assembled congregation. It hung on thewall in our house for many, many years. Unfortunately, I donot know what became of it. My parents did not keep photoalbums. They believed in displaying pictures so that theycould be viewed. Though this probably resulted in the loss ofand damage to a number of priceless images, at least I have aversion of them in my mind's eye. There was also anotherposed photograph that I particularly liked of my mother anda group of other women at a tea held sometime in the earlyto mid fifties that has disappeared. All of the women areby Georgia A. Dorsey 111

As I Remember Itdressed in formal attire, actually called “formals” back then,and looking quite mid-century lovely. The Cook family moved into a house that was part of asubdivision built during that period. Their subdivision wasthe largest and its residents were the primary contributors tothe overcrowding conditions of the schools and thesubsequent need for new ones. It was comprised of three-bedroom single-family homes with a single bath. I don'tknow how many different original models there were but,over time, some owners modified them to meet their needs.Given that these homes sat on pretty standard-sized lots, inmost cases the modifications were limited. A few added anadditional story, but most changes were cosmetic, at leastfrom the exterior. Because of my father, I got a sneak peek atthe interior of some of these new houses early on.by Georgia A. Dorsey 112

As I Remember Iti I CAN GET IT FOR YOU WHOLESALEI HAD A CURIOUS INTRODUCTION TO the subdivision thatthe Cooks moved into. First, some background. My father was a serial entrepreneur. He was inspired by Dr.T.R.M Howard and S.B. Fuller, both of whom he knew. Overthe years he started no less than three businesses from ourhouse. There was the upholstery business that required adrill press that sat in our kitchen taking up much-neededspace. My mother was constantly complaining about it. I remember that he secured a commission from a family inBlue Island to reupholster one or two chairs. Uponcompleting the assignment, the couple were not pleased.According to them, the fabric had been put on with thereverse side showing. I don't know if they paid my father orby Georgia A. Dorsey 113

As I Remember Itnot, but the reason I even know about this is because he wasso discouraged by the episode that he even asked his youngdaughter—me—which side of the fabric I thought was theright side. I made my choice, but I still don't know if I chosethe one that he chose. I remember that the fabric was a beigeand gold brocade. That fabric and color combination can betricky. Anyway, I don't recall another commission and thedrill press was eventually moved to another space. The biggest and most long-lived entrepreneurial effort ofmy father was the development of a hair preparation called“Hawaii Palm”. It's tag line was “Like the women in theislands”. It was another product like Royal Crown or DixiePeach, products that were known in the culture as “hairgrease”. I don't think further explanation is required.Anyway, this was a big deal at our house for a very long time. Our entire kitchen, including some of my mother'scookware, was used as a laboratory to create this newproduct. I remember accompanying my father to a refinery inAlsip to buy the raw petrolatum. The only other ingredient Iremember is lanolin, though I am sure there were others. Inthe lab/kitchen, he set about creating his secret formula,with my mother hardly on board with this usurping of herterritory. There were boxes upon boxes of little jars andstack upon stacks of printed labels that his captive workforceaffixed to the little jars once they had been filled with hissecret formula. Once the initial production run wascompleted, distribution began. Unfortunately for us and my father, the product never tookoff. He was never able to get wide distribution and the fewstores in our town that carried it never sold more than a fewby Georgia A. Dorsey 114

As I Remember Itjars. Knowing what I know today about marketing,distribution and competition, it was doubtful that he wasever going to get his products out to a wide audience. Myfather chose to be his own salesperson and to rely on hisnetwork of contacts to get started. This was likely due in nosmall part to the unavailability of funds. Additionally, therewere other well-established and -funded companies alreadyproducing a similar product with name recognition. It wouldbe a tough hill to climb for anyone, but more so for a smallbusinessman like my father. After years of trying, he finallyput Hawaii Palm behind him and put what was left of the jarsin a storage shed. It was not to be and I am sure it was amajor disappointment to him, though he never said it to me. But he didn't let the failure of that effort stop himcompletely. He started another venture selling lavendersachet. Once again his captive workforce was engaged. Wewere called upon to fill small bamboo-like hanging basketswith lavender to be sold as room or closet deodorizers. Thistime our distribution was door-to-door. I remember one tripto a neighborhood called Altgeld Gardens in particular. Thisneighborhood was on the far south side of Chicago and thepeople who lived there were a little different than those Iusually encountered. We didn't make many, if any, sales thatday, but I came away with the idea that there was a anotherkind of energy in the world, one that made meuncomfortable. I still have one of the original containers filled with the original lavender that I keep as a reminder of that venture and of my father. Around the same time as the sachet venture, myby Georgia A. Dorsey 115

As I Remember Itfather decided that we should take advantage of the fact thatnew residents with children were moving into town. He sawit as an opportunity to supply them with something they maynot have yet purchased for themselves. What was thisproduct? Jump ropes. He surmised that a busy family movinginto a new home would need something to occupy theirchildren while they settled in. His thinking had merit, but hehad made certain assumptions. Firstly, that these families contained young females, whowere the usual employers of jump ropes. Secondly, thatthese females, should they even exist, were old enough to usejump ropes. And thirdly, that there were enough of thesefemales to sell to and turn a profit. I point all of this outbecause almost none of these conditions were met. As theprimary peddler, I had first hand knowledge of the potentialmarket. I don't know why my father chose jump ropes for thisventure. I suppose he may have gotten a good wholesaleprice on them somewhere. Certainly they were not going toappeal to boys, at least not in those days, so that shut out halfof his market. Anyway, I was given the sales territory of thenew subdivision, supplied with an inventory of jump ropes,put on my bicycle and sent on my way. I didn't have a strategy or, if I did, it was simplistic at best.I'm sure my father must have given me basic instructions like“knock on the door of a house where you see childrenplaying”, or maybe not. Anyway, I did my best. I went fromstreet to street, house to house pedaling and peddling, until Ifound myself knocking on the same doors as before. When aman answered the door and said “No, I told you yesterdayby Georgia A. Dorsey 116

As I Remember Itthat I did not want to buy one”, I knew that it was time tothrow in the towel. My market was almost non-existent andI am sure that word had gotten around to not open the doorto the little girl on the blue bike. Because I did not know who these new people were, it didnot occur to me that they were the families of the boys andgirls who would be my peers from then on. I'm not sure theyremembered me or that it even mattered to them, since noneof them ever said anything to me about it. However, otherdifferences between the dwellers of the new subdivisions andthe old residents would surface through the years thatcreated a “we” and “them” atmosphere.Changes were happening in the larger world that wouldaffect Robbins more than the addition of new residentialhousing would. Civil rights and the issues surroundingthem were being talked about and acted upon around thecountry. In Mississippi, more focus was being placed onvoting rights and civil injustice, which had resulted in anincrease in violence against African-Americans. InArkansas, students stood tall against violence there in orderto get a quality education in a segregated school system.The Supreme Court had made a ruling that things wereseparate but they were not equal. Though most of theseissues were only talked about tangentially in our home, Iheard about them at school and read about them in thenewspapers that my father insisted I purchase everySunday morning. Back at school my teachers, who weremostly young and full of energy, were subtly encouragingus students to be more culturally aware and less acceptingby Georgia A. Dorsey 117

As I Remember Itof the norm. Through positive and supportive methods,they were giving us the confidence to move forward in aworld that would require all the knowledge and skills of awarrior going into battle. Yes, things were indeed changing. Mrs. Dougherty was a member of the Village ActivitiesGuild, the women's organization responsible for the annualcotillion and other social functions. She was friends withanother teacher at the school, Ms. Lewis, who was affiliatedwith the Snakes social club in Chicago. The Snakes alsosponsored a well-known and -received cotillion. One of theaims of these two cotillions was to present well-roundedyoung women of good character to society. Which, I guess, isthe motivation behind most cotillions. The young ladies should be well-read and aware of socialconventions. They should also be well-groomed and with areasonably spotless reputation. I use the word reasonablybecause the definition of what was acceptable reputation-wise varied from constituency to constituency. What mayhave passed muster with the VAG would probably not get bythe scrutiny of one of the more conservative church groups.This variation in standards was made clear to me duringeither my high school or junior high years. I really don't remember when it occurred. In whichever yearit was, a daughter of one of the ministers in town was adebutante. A very poignant and standard segment of the ballis the dad and daughter dance, where the father has a chanceto swing his daughter around the floor and show off hismoves, if he has any. Well, controversy ensued. There werethose who felt that a man of the cloth should not let hisby Georgia A. Dorsey 118

As I Remember Itdaughter participate in the ball at all, and certainly no realman of the cloth would be out dancing, anyway. Thespeculation and controversy were all one heard about as theball approached. Finally, the minister ended the speculationwhen he took his daughter into his arms and waltzed to thetune of Daddy's Little Girl. That should have ended alldiscussion, but it did not. For some time afterwards hisfitness to be in the pulpit was debated by many people in thevillage. I don't know what the motivation was behind the twofourth grade teachers at my school starting what amountedto a finishing school, but I suspect it was because they saw agap between the social graces evidenced in our behavior andthe ones they thought would be needed as we moved forwardin life. I fully admit that I was one of the ones who neededremediation. After years of climbing trees, yelling at the top of my lungs,skipping rocks and building forts, I was less of a “lady” thana lot of my peers. I remember an occasion when the visitingnurse from the clinic came to our house. I sat on the porchwhile she spoke with my mother. Before I knew it, she hadcome over to me and told me that ladies don't sit with theirlegs open, and that I should also pull my dress down over myknees. To my recollection, this was the first time I had everheard such a rule. I obeyed her that day but I don't think itstuck, mainly because I was to get the same lecture from Mrs.Doughterty who, by now, had noticed my tendency to beanything but ladylike. So, I and a group of other girls weretaken under the collective wings of these teachers to haveour rough edges smoothed.by Georgia A. Dorsey 119

As I Remember ItI don't remember exactly how they fit the lessons into thedaily school schedule, but they never kept us after school nordid they have sessions at other locations. At least, they didn'thave sessions that I attended. Later, I became aware that oneor two other students whose parents weren't as strict asmine were indeed given additional tutelage. These sessions,which taught us things like sewing, decorum, creative artsand the like, were a welcome addition to regular academicstudies. We were introduced to works of literature that werenot on the reading approved list, if there even was one.The teachers selected cultural outings for us to attend aswell. These, however, included the entire classes. We visitedthe usual Chicago museums, but we also took sojourns to theSouth Side Community Art Center, which was the incubatorfor what became the Du Sable Museum. One of the mostenduring skills that I acquired during this time was theJapanese poetry style of Haiku, although I was alsointroduced to and became very efficient in origami, theJapanese art of paper folding. I began writing the Japanesepoetry style then and have loved it ever since. There issomething very efficient and challenging about being able toconvey a complete feeling or image in three lines of 5-7-5syllables respectively. Unlike a principle or fact that islearned and then stored away for future use, each Haikupoem is a new challenge, a new way of making theimpossible possible.Sadly, all of this would come to an end that June. When thebell rang for the last time that school year I was thrust intothe unenviable—at least to me—role of being senior to allbelow me. Next school year, after all the peaches andby Georgia A. Dorsey 120

As I Remember Itwatermelons had been eaten, after the carnival had packedits tent, and after the last parade streamer had floated awaythrough the trees, I would be in fifth grade. I would nolonger be considered a child by those at my school. The otherstudents would see me as being much older than I felt, andthe teachers would expect even more example-setting thanthey had the previous year. Added to all of that was the factthat I was leaving the care of my beloved teacher, my muse.As far as I was concerned, this whole “maturing” thing was abunch of nothing. Rumors had been circulating that more school districtchanges were being planned due to the overcrowdingsituation. It was said that the fifth grade classes were goingto be held at the junior high school. And then they weren't.And then they were again. Each time a new possibility wasraised, my hopes either rose or sank. Finally, it wasdetermined that I would return to Lincoln for my fifth year ofschool. This would mean that, despite all of the drawbacks Imentioned earlier, I would be in familiar surroundings oncemore and, more importantly for me, in the same building asmy mentor. By now I knew that there was racial trouble in the South,even if it was not part of my day-to-day existence. One of thebenefits of growing up in Robbins was the lack of racialtension. It simply didn't exist for us children. It touched ourparents, especially our fathers, who had to go to work in thelarger society on a daily basis. Fortunately for a lot of them,they had been raised in the southern part of the country andhad long ago learned how to navigate through the racial mazewith most of their dignity intact. Since most of the mothersby Georgia A. Dorsey 121

As I Remember Itthat I knew stayed at home, their exposure to theunpleasantness of the times was more limited. However, I do recall a story that my mother told about oncehaving to set a woman straight in Blue Island when my oldersisters were little. It seems this unfortunate woman madethe mistake of calling one of my sisters an offensive racialslur because her daughter wanted to hold my sister's hand.Because she is who she is, my mother gave this woman anappropriate dressing down, with no repercussions from anyonlookers. I mean, who was going to say anything? Thisanecdote, though I heard it more than once, was no morethan a story about something that happened in the past. But now in Alabama, where brave people were riding busesand literally putting their lives on the line, things seemed tome to be a little more contemporary. I saw it on the newsand I read about it in the papers, even though it was still notspoken about at home. Slowly but surely outside events werecreeping into the sanctity of my world.by Georgia A. Dorsey 122

As I Remember Iti FIVE AND DIMEPERHAPS IT IS SOMEWHAT UNFAIR to compare teachers.As an adult, I now know that each has his or her own styleand approach to the profession, and should be allowedlatitude so long as the students learn. My fourth gradeexperience would be a tough one to beat no matter who myfifth grade teacher was. In fact, even after many more yearsof education with some exceptional teachers, I still considerit to be the gold standard. With that as my opinion, I enteredthe classroom of my fifth grade teacher. She looked like the woman on my father's hair pomadelabel. He had chosen an image of a woman that he thoughtwas Hawaiian but who was probably Fijian to represent hisby Georgia A. Dorsey 123

As I Remember Itproduct. The woman on the label was slim and walnut brownwith wavy black hair that flowed to her waist. I actuallythink my father had my mother in mind when he designedthe label, but I am not sure. My new teacher really didresemble both the label and my mother, but that is where thesimilarities ended. The term “stuck on herself” was not part of my lexicon backthen, but that is how I would describe her today. She wasanother one of the teachers who lived in Chicago but taughtin our village. When she wasn't throwing her hair over hershoulder or smoothing it with her hands, she was regalingthe class with stories about her husband and her boys.According to her, all three were perfect.To be honest, I don't think she was as bad as my third gradeteacher, but I don't think she was a good teacher at all.Thankfully for me, I had learned a lot of what was supposedto be taught in the fifth grade in fourth grade, so herobsession with herself and her family did not harm mydevelopment. I also still had access to my mentor, who Itried to visit as much as possible under the guise of seeinghow she was doing, which didn't fool her at all. I feel certainthat the other teachers knew what was going on in myclassroom and understood why I was coming around. Also, bynow my father was introducing me to books that he kept inhis small library, so my world continued to expand in spite ofthis woman. Our house may have been small but we had all theresources we needed to be a comfortable family. Somehow,my father had found a way to carve out room for a smalllibrary in the living room. It was really just a 3-4 shelfby Georgia A. Dorsey 124

As I Remember Itbookcase that I think he made, but it provided a wonderfulescape for an avid reader like myself. There were, of course,books about religion. My father was a fan of Bishop Fulton J.Sheen and his A Life of Christ was prominently displayed andread. Curiously, or perhaps not, he had books on sciencefiction that he encouraged me to read and discuss with him.One of those books, the title of which escapes me now, putforth the theory that the earth is hollow and that beings fromanother planet, solar system or galaxy live at the earth'score. According to this book, they enter and leave the earth'sbelly in flying machines similar to the commonly acceptedimage of a space ship. Perhaps the book that I loved the most was theunabridged dictionary that had come to the house in sections,each section adding to the book's mass until it was at least 9to 10 inches thick. It was too large for the book shelf, so it saton a sort of stand, if I remember correctly. I would open itup and spend hours learning new words and their meanings.So you see it is true: some people do read the dictionary. One of the other ways that I stayed on top of my studieswas to teach. By now, a younger brother and sister of minewere also in school and part of my responsibilities at homewas to help my mother look after them. To this end, she letme start a “school”, where classes were conducted aroundthe kitchen table. Much as my older sister had done for me, Itaught them things that were probably a little advanced forthem. Over time, I began to look at my siblings as my students,with the responsibility of their success resting firmly on myshoulders. I didn't realize at the time that I was mimickingby Georgia A. Dorsey 125

As I Remember Itthe behavior of my mentor. It wasn't just the three Rs that Itaught them, but also things like diction, manners andvocabulary. Years later, one of my siblings told me that thosehome school sessions were priceless to him, even though he'dborne no small amount of animosity toward me at the time. Ihad been determined that they would know everything Iknew, whether they were interested in it or not. For somereason, holding the senior position at home suited me muchbetter than at my school. I suppose it was, again, the familydynamic. Even though nothing was really changing for me in my fifthgrade classroom, some changes were occurring. Around thistime the first male classroom teacher was hired at the school.I don't remember this as being a big deal, but I suppose itwas. His hiring may or may not have been the result of anew aggressiveness being displayed by some of the malestudents. A lot of the students who moved to the village came fromenvironments that were more urban than that found inRobbins. I suppose that may have been the reason that someof the parents chose Robbins in the first place. But, as wesaw over time, merely changing addresses does not eliminatethe problem. Until this new teacher arrived, the only maleadults that I recall at the school had been the janitor and thegym teacher, Mr. Barber. Another change was the addition of a student who wouldcome to be part of my life for many years hence. She, likemany others in town, hailed from Mississippi. She took herseat in class and proceeded to be underwhelmed like the restof us. I don't think we had much to say to each other thatby Georgia A. Dorsey 126

As I Remember Itfirst year. She didn't live near me, but she wasn't from thenew subdivisions, either. With nothing more interesting thanher arrival to distract me, I went about my business ofstudying and marking time until the end of the school year.This time, there would be no mystery about where I would goto school. Sixth grade would be held at the Thomas J. Kellarjunior high school. The school had been named for one of the founders of thevillage and was located nowhere near my house. It sat smackdab in the middle of the new subdivisions, on someone else'sturf. The concepts of “neighborhoods” and “turf” had neverentered my consciousness because nearly everything we didwas centered around our house. But I was about to learn justhow much of an outsider I was. In order to get to the school, Ihad two options: I could cut through the field behind ourhouse and cross Claire Boulevard into the “new homes” thatway, or I could take the long way around by the Rexall drugstore and cut through another set of “new homes”. No matterwhich route I chose, I could stop at my sister's home on theway there or back. Things had changed so much since my sister Bunch hadattended the school that I could not rely on her for currentadvice, so I was on my own. I can't really recall which route Itook that first day. I must have been nervous because it was anew experience for me. I surely was a little intimidated byall of the older students who would be there. Many of themhad gone directly into junior high when they moved to thevillage, and I really hadn't known a lot of the older studentswho'd attended Lincoln.by Georgia A. Dorsey 127

As I Remember Iti WITH SIX YOU GET EGG ROLLI HAD BEEN LOOKING FORWARD to a new teacher and tomoving ahead with my education when I learned that thesame hair-flouncing, family-bragging, do-little woman frommy fifth grade class would also be my teacher in sixth grade.How had this happened? Had parents complained and hadher moved? Had she requested a transfer? Or had sherealized that she hadn't done a very good job with my classbefore and wanted to make amends? I doubt the latteroccurred, though the situation would surely have boggled areasonable mind. The only saving grace was that she wouldnot have us for the entire day. In sixth grade, classes rotatedto different teachers for some subjects. At least that wasby Georgia A. Dorsey 128

As I Remember Itsomething. To be fair, my opinion of the woman is basedpurely on the fact that I have an insatiable desire to learn.Her presence as our teacher for a second year may indeedhave been a welcome sight for some of my peers who wereless enthusiastic about school, but I resolved to ignore hereven more than I had the year before. Anyway, it wasn't as ifwe got along so well. I think she must have sensed myindifference to her and her kids, who she bragged aboutconstantly. What mature adult comes to class and bragsabout her kids to a classroom full of children that she isbarely teaching anything? How was she still even employed?Later, after I became an adult, I learned of some of themachinations and shenanigans that went on among theteachers and administrators that make sense of why she andothers like her kept their jobs. And since a lot of the decisionmakers in the village were also part of the educationcommunity, very little could change that they did not want tochange. This brings me to the final subdivision that was built. It's the one that had the biggest homes with the nicest amenities. They were all over-sized, split-level or ranch homes on larger lots. They contained three or four bedrooms with multiple baths, attached garages and family rooms. If you couldn't live in Mr. Fuller's house, then these homes were the next best thing in our town. Into these homes moved people who were teachers, principals, superintendents, fire chiefs etc. There were also many of the professional class who were not part of the school system or village administration who purchased homesby Georgia A. Dorsey 129

As I Remember It here, too. Unlike the other new subdivisions, this one had a lot of old Robbinites living there who had decided to “move up”. Long-time village families moved into the other subdivisions as well, but this one gave them real bragging rights. One of the purchasers I was told was an airline pilot, the first African-American pilot I had ever heard of. His daughter enrolled in our school but didn't stay long. I remember her as being more than a little snooty and I doubt she felt comfortable around us plebes. Because there was only one junior high for all of Robbins, Iwas reunited with some of the students I'd met when they'dattended Lincoln, before they had been transferred out due toovercrowding. Because we had been so young when thishappened, I didn't really remember many of them. Oneperson I did remember was my old friend E.C., who was moremature now, at least as I compared her to myself. Her voicehad deepened and, though it was still high-pitched, itsounded more grown up. She had made new friends at herother school and we weren't as tight anymore, but it was stillgood to see her again. There is always a settling-in or adjustment period—whenpeople from various backgrounds are brought together andtold to coexist in a single environment. Such was the case atKellar school. Pecking orders must be reestablished ormaintained, just as we did with the new arrivals at our oldschools. Cliques must be dissolved or created, and territoriesmust be mapped out. Even among teachers I noticed a sort oftug-of-war to see under whose windows students would orwould not be allowed to play jump rope or kick ball.by Georgia A. Dorsey 130

As I Remember ItSomehow, amid all of this, education must take place.Somehow, we had to move forward. One of the first lessons I had to learn was the one dealingwith bringing lunches to school. Having always lived inwalking distance to school in the past, lunch was whatevermy mother had available, usually something from theprevious night's dinner or, in some cases, that morning'sbreakfast. These lunchtime meals ran the gamut from greensand cornbread to bacon and biscuit sandwiches and, whilethese dishes were fine when being consumed at home, theywere not the ideal lunches for a sixth grader trying to findher footing in a new environment. Unlike my father, whoselunch bag might contain a pork chop or home-made hambiscuits, I was not an adult who could eschew the opinion ofpeers. Though my older sisters must have encountered thesame dilemma, I have no idea how they dealt with it. Somehow, the concept of different food for my lunchesmade its way into our home and I began to have sandwichesmade of Silvercup bread and bologna or salami. Hard as itmay be to imagine now, this was a major change in ourhousehold because my father absolutely had no use for whathe called “light bread”. “Light bread” was his term for thecommercially-produced loaves found on grocery shelves,which he said had absolutely no nutritional value as far as hewas concerned. One could almost feel the disdain he felt forthis form of food from the negative energy emanating aroundhim when he spoke of it. But the vile substance made its wayinto our house anyway and remained there, even if it nevermade its way into my father's lunch bag. Kellar didn't have aseparate lunch room, so each class ate lunch in their homeby Georgia A. Dorsey 131

As I Remember Itclassroom, which must have been a nightmare for thejanitorial staff. It was also probably a nightmare for theteachers because they had to have their lunch with theirclasses in order to supervise and prevent untoward behavior.Luckily for all concerned, when the weather was nice enough,we spent the latter part of the lunch period outside. I was beginning to understand what other children hadlearned long ago about the inconvenience of going to schoolin a neighborhood that was not one's own. Besides theobvious loss of familiarity, there was also the feeling of beingan alien, at least for me. Though other students had to comea greater distance than I in order to get to Kellar, I doubtthey felt more isolated or ill at ease. For the first time in mylife it became clear to me that I had no natural constituency.Never a joiner, I had no formal clique to call my own. Nowthat I was going to school in a neighborhood where thefamilies at least appeared more affluent than mine, I becamethe “other”. With my long-established tendency towardstudiousness I stood out even more in an age group that wastrying very hard to establish itself as separate from justabout everything not perceived to be “cool”. As aconsequence, I ran home from school a lot. I am not a fighter. At least, not in the physical sense. Fromthe days of outrunning the boys at Lincoln to resorting totears in order to disarm a bully, I have avoided confrontation.At times I know this behavior has frustrated some close to mewho thought that I should have put up better defenses formyself. Maybe they were right. I don't know. I do knowthat I never saw any good reason to mess up my good clothesor get my face scratched up if I could avoid it. And avoidanceby Georgia A. Dorsey 132

As I Remember Itwas a tricky proposition. In an environment populated by somany disparate groups and priorities, anything could becomethe catalyst for a warning that you would be cat fodder afterschool. And I seemed to find most if not every way to receivethese warnings. The diminished interest of the boys to beatme up seemed to have been picked up by the girls. In the middle school years girls can be particularly vicious Ifound. Now that boy/girl pairings were beginning, anythingthat made one girl more appealing than another was a reasonfor the slighted female to pick a fight. Unbelievably, in mycase it was because I knew all the answers to the testquestions and the boys would swarm around me to get them.I saw being the center of their attention as their finalacknowledgment that I was smarter than they, nothing more.I did not develop an interest in boys the way some of theother girls did until much later. That, however, is not howthe other girls saw it. The fact that my oldest sister's house was on the way homefrom school probably contributed much to my safety. If I felta threat was eminent, I simply waited there until we both feltit was safe for me to continue home. Amazingly, I only had tophysically defend myself once against an angry hoard and ithappened in high school, not junior high. As was the casewith a lot of the people who found me not to their liking,these girls came from a family of questionable background,many of whom went to jail and all of whom died young. As I settled into my pre-teen and early teen years, theworld seemed to be changing more rapidly. I overheardgrownups like my teachers say that they liked the newPresident Kennedy. Apparently African-Americans wereby Georgia A. Dorsey 133

As I Remember Itgoing to get a better deal now that he was in office. Optimismwas possible because things like the Cuban Missile Crisis didnot affect our community as much as it did the outside worldbecause we had bigger problems of our own to solve. Totalannihilation only bothered you if you had something to lose.We were aware of men being shot into space and circling theearth, but that, too, meant little to us. There were far morepractical things that could have been done with the money asfar as we were concerned. In the South, people werecontinuing to lose their lives for the right to vote and to beseen as full citizens, though the magnitude of this fight wasonly revealed to me through the stories I read in thenewspapers and magazines that were brought into our home.My parents, willfully or not, did not discuss what was goingon with us children. But we were getting out of our usualsphere more and more.by Georgia A. Dorsey 134

As I Remember Iti UPWARD MOBILITYBY THIS TIME, MY FATHER had secured a job with Electro-Motive, a division of General Motors, that made dieselengines for trains. This was a good thing. The union hebelonged to would sponsor family days at the plant, and myfather loved to take us around and show us what he workedon. To me, these were times of wonder because it exposedme to things and elements that piqued my curiosity. It alsomade me very, very afraid of train engines. The enormity ofall that steel as compared to a human being was mind-boggling. Another perk provided by his union was discountedor free tickets to Riverview, the quintessential amusementpark for a child living in the Chicago area during this period.by Georgia A. Dorsey 135

As I Remember ItThere was something magical about the place that only aperson who experienced it can understand. These perks hadapparently not been available under his previousemployment with companies like Harris Hub, Burton Springsor the docks in south Chicago, so he let none of them go towaste. He was expanding our horizons. We would pile into thecar and be off to parts unknown, at least to the passengers inthe car. Occasionally he would take us to visit friends of thefamily, but more often than not we would go on an excursionwhere we children would be exposed to something new. Wewent to the beach without bathing suits and walked aroundin the sand in our Sunday clothes, much to our mother'schagrin. Or he took us to see great churches of other faiths,like the Greek Orthodox church in Palos. We didn't own aboat, but he took us to the lakes in the forest preserves towatch the people who did own them. We went to affluentcommunities to “ooo” and “aah” at their Christmasdecorations. Perhaps during those changing times heperceived there to be less danger in venturing out. I reallycan't say. And, at the time, I can't say that I understood whywe were doing these things instead of something moreconventional, like going to the movies. It wasn't until later,when I finally faced the world on my own, that I realized howbeneficial this exposure had been. There was also a new baby, this time another girl, so I wascalled on more to help with my siblings while my motherattended to her needs. Looking back, this surely added to myincreasingly imperious attitude and bossiness. But for me,then, it was the key that unlocked the final door to almostby Georgia A. Dorsey 136

As I Remember Ittotal domination of those around me. By now, I was alsounder my mother's tutelage in the kitchen. I had watchedher and my other sister bake and cook so I understood thebasics. Plus, I'd had the earlier instructions from my fourthgrade teachers on how to make simple things, even thoughwe never actually cooked anything. But I wanted to do more.I felt that we could upgrade our eating experiences to those Ihad seen elsewhere, usually on that old purveyor ofdissatisfaction, TV. Whether she was distracted by the newbaby or just simply tired of me asking, I don't know. But mymother allowed me free rein to prepare meals for mysiblings. As long as they were quiet and fed, I believe she hadfaith that I would do what she would have done, had she thetime. Thanks somewhat to S&H green stamps, the premiumstamps that were given to shoppers at National Tea grocerystores, and Plaid Stamps, which were given to shoppers atA&P stores, my family had a fair amount of glassware anddishes. The stamps were pasted into books and completedbooks were redeemed for merchandise. Though, as rough andtumble kids we usually drank from converted jelly jars, itwas nice to use the good stuff on occasions like Thanksgivingand Easter. Even more infrequently used was the set of BlueWillow-patterned dishes that my father had purchased formy mother. I really wish that somebody in my family hadkept at least a few pieces of that set. Anyway, this abundanceof dishware fit right into my plans. One morning I assembled my siblings for breakfast. Firstcourse: oatmeal served in bowls resting atop matchingsaucers, complete with appropriate serving pieces andby Georgia A. Dorsey 137

As I Remember Itglasses brimming with orange juice. Second course: Baconand scrambled eggs with toast and more orange juice. It was,to say the least, a monumental waste of food and effort.When my mother found out what I had done, I caught hell. Ihad nearly blown the entire week's breakfast food supply onone meal and wasted good food because the oatmeal andorange juice alone had been more than enough. Nobody atethe bacon and eggs, which was the more expensive part ofthe meal. My explanation that this is the way that otherpeople—sophisticated people—served breakfast got menowhere and probably made my mother wonder where shehad gone wrong with me. Though I was allowed to continueto assist in the kitchen, I was placed back under the directsupervision of my mother until I reached high school age.When I was finally allowed to cook on my own again, Ideveloped two recipes that my siblings still talk about to thisday. Though most of their diets won't allow for it anymore,they remember with fondness my fried chicken andspaghetti. Until I entered sixth grade, I had not encountered anyteachers who had also taught my sisters. That all changedwhen I entered Kellar and a heretofore unknown episode inmy family's life was revealed. There, one of my teachers wasa woman who always seemed to me to be a little “off”. Shewas irritable and somewhat belligerent to the students. Shewas also not very good at her chosen profession as far as Iwas concerned. But, by then, it was beginning to dawn onme that there were a number of teachers in our system aboutwhom this could be said. I really don't recall how it came upthat this woman was now one of my instructors. My lastby Georgia A. Dorsey 138

As I Remember Itname may have triggered a memory for her, leading her totell me that she had also taught my sister. This would nodoubt have led me to mention it to my sister. Or maybe Imentioned her name at home to my mother and that was theinstigation. Regardless of how the fact was revealed, once itwas known that I had contact with this woman, I wascautioned by my family to be wary of her. Apparently this teacher had once admonished my sister fortalking in her class. No problem there because that is whatteacher's do. However, they seldom tell their students to“stop flapping your big, fat juicy lips” as this woman did. Herunfortunate choice of words earned her a visit from mymother that I am sure she never forgot. You just didn't saythose kinds of things to or about my mother's children orhusband. I'm sure my sister knows much more detail aboutthis episode than I, and if she ever wants to tell it, she will. Ionly touch on it now because it is part of my story, and itmay have had an influence on that teacher's attitude towardme, which I sensed was extreme indifference. On the otherhand, she could have been the way she was because she wasbasically inebriated most of the time. Years later, after Ibecame an adult, I found out this woman was one of theteachers who consumed a liquid lunch at Fannie Orr's. By now I was noticing that my sleepy little town waschanging. It probably had something to do with the fact thatI was spending more time out of my neighborhood and beingexposed to people who were from different backgrounds. Alot of the new students populating the school district camefrom Chicago, where things moved a little faster. They stillhad family ties there and brought a lot of that influence toby Georgia A. Dorsey 139

As I Remember Itour village. Combined with the obvious visual contrastbetween the old Robbins and the new subdivisions, theseinfluences were more evidence of the differences betweenthe two. This was nothing new, as there had always beenvarying levels of society in the town. But, buffeted by thechanges that were also happening in the country as a whole,these new influences would prove to be somewhat disruptiveand more than a little controversial in the years to come.by Georgia A. Dorsey 140

As I Remember Iti CHURCHTHE MODEST GRAY STONE BUILDING sat between 137thand 135th streets, the two main east-west streets on the northside of Robbins. There must have been a 136th street but itwas probably no more than a cut through the overgrownweeds to the north of the church. There were two entrances:the one in the back that led to all of the ancillary rooms likethe pastor's study and the baptismal pool, and the one in thefront, which led to the main sanctuary.by Georgia A. Dorsey 141

As I Remember It A small vestibule corralled those entering the church intoone place until such time in the service when they could begranted entry by the ushers. Congregational seating in themain sanctuary was of the variety not seen much anymore.Each row consisted of a number of individual seats withbottoms that could be lowered for sitting or raised when notin use. These seats, cushioned and comfortable, had servedthe congregation well for many years, but the caramel-colored vinyl covering them was beginning to split, exposingthe white cottony material beneath it. Behind the pulpit at the front of the church was the choirstand, outfitted with the same type of seats as were in thecongregational area. To the right of the congregation and theleft of the choir stood the organ and directly opposite it onthe other side of the pulpit was the piano. The Mothers of thechurch, always clad in white, sat on seats runningperpendicular to the congregation, in two rows of seatsseparated from the organist by a walkway that led to a doorthat accessed the back of the church. On the opposite side ofby Georgia A. Dorsey 142

As I Remember Itthe church, behind the pianist, were two rows of seats thatmirrored those of the mother's board. Here sat the deacons ofthe church. They, too, were separated from the pianist by awalkway leading to an access door to the back. This was theGreat Hope Missionary Baptist Church. This was the church Igrew up in. Unless you are the child of a clergyman, it may be difficultto understand just how much of one's life revolves aroundthe church. While congregants have the luxury of attendingservices maybe once a week, those who are part of the churchhierarchy and their families have a much tougher standard ofworthiness placed upon them. I can't say that this was everovertly stated to me as a child. In fact, I don't think it was.Instead, we were given rules of behavior that should reflect aset of values that any decent human being would have. Theexamples of charity—even when we had little ourselves—kindness, honesty, trustworthiness, truthfulness etceterawere set out for us in the way that we saw our parents,especially my father, deal with those around us. As an adult I sometimes wonder about the impact on thefamilies of men and women who go into the ministry as asecond career, assuming they did not lead especially piouslives before. Children must be hit especially hard by thedecision. Thankfully for me and my siblings, our father as aminister was all we ever knew, so we had nothing with whichto compare it. Just as a certain day was set aside to do washing andanother day was set aside to do ironing in our household,Sunday was set aside as the “Lord's day”. This practice, veryprevalent in the South and one of the Ten Commandments,by Georgia A. Dorsey 143

As I Remember Itwas strictly upheld in our home. This meant that anythingrelated to household chores had to be completed on Saturday,which presented a conundrum about Sunday dinner.Somehow, my mother was able to work it out to my father'ssatisfaction. Since there was no washing or ironing to bedone on Sunday, all of our church clothes had to be laid outand ready on Saturday night. If a button was later found tobe missing or a hem came loose Sunday morning, you wereout of luck because sewing was forbidden. The girls in the family had their hair done on Saturday andyou wore a scarf or “rag” to bed that night. Of course, theboys had their hair cut on Saturday either by my father orone of his friends if they were getting a little “woolly”. Mostcommercial establishments in the village were closed but, forsome reason, Fannie Orr's and a couple of other stores wereopen, so we were able to get the Sunday newspapers. I guessbuying and reading the newspapers were exempt activities.Because Sunday was such an important and reverent day inthe village, even those who chose not to attend church, the“rank sinners”, would still dress up in their “Sunday Best”before they would leave their homes. Though our mother didn't seem to mind our boisterousness,when my father came home we had to dial it back, especiallywhen he was studying or reading his Bible. It wasunderstood that no one touched this sacred book but myfather. In fact, we didn't touch anything unless we weregiven specific permission to do so. My father would sit in thedining room or living room and read for what seemed likehours to me. This was fine during the summer, when we hadoutside activities to keep us involved. However, keeping usby Georgia A. Dorsey 144

As I Remember Itquiet during the cold months must have taken a toll on mymother. My father decided that we all needed to know the books ofthe Bible in sequence. I remember getting through the OldTestament and most of the New, but I don't think I everlearned them all, at least not to his satisfaction. At somepoint, we began to have a sort of church service at home inaddition to the ones we attended at Great Hope. My fatherwould begin the service with a prayer, then my mother wouldoffer a song. After that, various Bible verses would becontributed by me and my siblings, followed by a songselection from The Gospel Pearls, the standard gospel hymnalof that day. My father's favorite song from that book wasTake Your Burden To The Lord and Leave It There. Throughthe years, the words to that song have come to mean much tome and I have a greater understanding of why my fatherliked it so much. A few thoughts were then offered by myfather along with a closing prayer, and our home service wasover. For me, Sunday began with getting the newspapers, thenwatching Jubilee Showcase, a local television show thatfeatured black gospel singers. This show, which wasproduced by a nice Jewish man named Sid Ordower, wasrequired viewing for most of the black church community. Itwas one of the ways we got exposure to the singing groupsand choirs of the day. It is also how we learned what the newsongs were. After a song was heard on Jubilee Showcase,most choir directors had a version of it ready to present totheir congregation within the next week or two. After JubileeShowcase, we left to go to Sunday School. In those daysby Georgia A. Dorsey 145

As I Remember Itpeople walked a lot, especially if you were a youngster. Weleft the house and headed north down Central Park to 137thstreet, passing the homes of other families who belonged toour church, like the Wylies and the Greers. Our familieslooked out for each other, so each house we passed was reallya checkpoint of our journey's progress. At the northwest corner of 137th and Central Park satSmith's store. I don't know if they were related to any of theother Smiths in town. Perhaps. The daughter of the family,Betty, was in my class at school, and I always thought theywere Caucasian, though that does not preclude them fromhaving been related to other people in town. She was alwaysbeing teased by the same boys that teased me and I felt it wasbecause of the way she looked. She was plump with an underbite, just the combination to get adolescent boys going.Smith's store was open on Sunday and was one of the placeswe went to buy goodies between Sunday school and churchservice. One day the Smith's didn't own the store anymoreand another family with children around my age, theMickeys, were the proprietors. I don't know what happenedto the Smiths. We walked west on 137th street past Reget's, another storethat got a fair share of our goodie money. These two stores,each of which were small grocery stores and that soldapproximately the same products, coexisted for years.Reget's, however, had offices located on its second floor thatwere rented out to professionals, including the town'sdoctors. Turning north onto Lawndale, we would pass therest of the Reget's property, which included a large, whiteshingled house. One of the school's janitors, Mr. Record, livedby Georgia A. Dorsey 146