Tag: History

Holly Edwards: The Legacy of Lamb and Lion Lives On

Post author By Sonia Montalvo
Post date October 14, 2024

by Sonia Montalvo | Photos by Anica Marcelino

Holly Edwards was a force—both gentle and unyielding—who forever shaped Charlottesville’s community. Even now, nearly a decade since her passing, the ripple effects of her civic-centered work as a nurse, City Councilor, and community advocate are felt in both big and small ways. Holly was not just a public figure; she was a servant leader who showed up in people’s lives, day in and day out, with compassion, wisdom, and quiet strength.

To her family, she was the matriarch who led by example; to her neighbors, a trusted advocate and friend; and to the community at large, she was a woman of action, embodying what it meant to stand firmly for what is right while offering warmth and kindness to those around her.

Saturn Edwards recalls their mother’s advice: “You gotta be tough,” emphasizing her belief in balance: “She specifically said that we have to be like a lion and a lamb. You have to balance your energy when you’re interacting with other people, and you have to stand up for yourself while also doing it with grace.” Saturn and their twin, Jean, were the youngest of Holly and Ken Edwards’s children, growing up in a close-knit family alongside siblings Christen and Shelby.

Video Credit: Anna Scholl

Jean, fondly known as Novella, reflects on spending after-school hours at Westhaven with Holly, who seamlessly integrated family with her community work. “She would pick us up, especially during the summer when she was working as a nurse, and be like, ‘I’m going to be in my office and do my own thing, but you guys can play with your toys.’” For the Edwards children, service was more than a responsibility—it was a natural part of life.

Christen and Shelby share similarly impactful memories. Holly supported and encouraged their interests: Shelby recalls her mother buying the book that the musical she starred in during high school was based on, while Christen remembers having empowering conversations with Holly about her teenage aspirations of becoming an Olympic swimmer like Michael Phelps.

Creating Community Care

Holly’s roots run deep in Charlottesville’s public housing communities, and Westhaven held a special place in her heart. Westhaven, Charlottesville’s oldest housing complex, was where Mrs. Edwards served as a Parish Nurse and Program Coordinator for the Public Housing Association of Residents (PHAR) at the Westhaven Clinic. Holly’s efforts brought healthcare directly to those who needed it most, ensuring equitable access for all. She didn’t limit her work to just one facet of community care—she also pursued political change.

Left to Right: Jean Edwards, Saturn Edwards (Front Row,) Shelby Edwards, Christen Edwards, & Ken Edwards (Back Row.)

During her time in local government, Holly Edwards served as Vice Mayor of Charlottesville from 2008 to 2010 during her term on the Charlottesville City Council. Elected to the council in 2007, she served until 2011. In her work, she fought for policies that mattered—equitable access to resources and healthcare, as well as support for the city’s most marginalized. But she also knew that leadership wasn’t just about standing tall; it was about lifting others. Her family understood her unmatched ability to listen, connect, and offer the right words at the right time.

Love and Lasting Impact

Ken Edwards, no stranger to community work, jokingly shares that he loved “the hype” surrounding his wife, Holly. As a Community Faith leader and long-time Government Service worker for the United States Postal Service, Ken has spent decades fostering spiritual growth, serving as a pastor at Union Grove Baptist Church and now the historic Zion Union Baptist Church in Charlottesville, Virginia. Alongside his late wife, the couple exemplified a life of unwavering service—Ken through his faithful leadership and commitment to public service, and Holly through her passionate advocacy for healthcare and social justice.

Reflecting on Holly’s tireless work, Ken expressed his admiration: “It was amazing how many people Holly touched in ways I never knew about… People would see her carrying the oxygen tank, taking care of the twins, and still showing up for the community. They were inspired to do more, to stop dragging their feet.” When asked about his own legacy, Mr. Edwards said, “I want people to know that I was friendly, I didn’t point the finger at anybody, I didn’t condemn anybody. I just tried to love everybody. Man, that’s what I want. If the church can get that right, guess what? We’ll be full every Sunday.”

Carrying the Torch

In 2017, Holly Edwards passed away, and the community continues to deeply feel her absence, with many still mourning the profound loss of her leadership and compassion. One of her many initiatives still utilized in Charlottesville today is her “Meet Me at the Bus” program, where she stood at the Westhaven bus stop with donuts and fruit, chatting with families as they sent their children to school. This practice has since been adopted by other organizations in the area to foster engagement with community youth and their parents.

Today, Holly’s children continue her legacy in their own ways. Shelby Edwards, a versatile professional, has made an impact in both the performing arts and the nonprofit sector. A performer and teacher in the theater world, Shelby has acted on stages from Virginia to Illinois. In a full-circle moment of legacy, Shelby also became the Executive Director of the Public Housing Association of Residents (PHAR) in 2020, the same organization where her mother once worked as a program coordinator. Now back in the Windy City, she continues her philanthropic work as a Director of Leadership Giving.

Christen, a leader in the education field, is involved in several equitable education initiatives aimed at supporting marginalized students and fostering inclusion. A graduate of North Carolina A&T and UVA, Christen was a part of the inaugural leadership team for Charlottesville’s first Freedom School, which provides a comprehensive education on Black and Brown history, social activism, and community involvement. She also started the first equity committee in the Charlottesville school district. Christen states, “I wanted to be able to talk about equity, diversity, and inclusion… the voiceless need a voice, and if I’m gonna come back home, I’m gonna give back to Charlottesville because it’s the same community that built me up.” She now serves as a Manager of Research and Evaluation for the National Center for Teacher Residencies, a Chicago-based education organization.

Jean and Saturn, recent high school graduates, are making their mark on the community as well. Jean, currently a student at VCU’s School of Arts for Theatre, said: “I don’t know. I just feel like it’s still very early in my career. Even though I am very young, and like I can speak on some of these issues, I feel like I still have yet to experience all of it. I’m mostly looking forward to being at VCU. I’m a transfer student. I didn’t enjoy my previous college. It was much too small for my taste, and I knew I wanted more.”

Saturn, following in their mother’s footsteps of activism, has become a vocal advocate for Black queer and trans individuals, focusing on visibility and inclusivity within the Charlottesville community. Like their mother, who worked passionately to uplift marginalized groups, Saturn continues this legacy by setting an example of Black queer joy and resilience. “I’m really setting an example for what Black queer joy can look like,” Saturn says. “That’s why I decided to stay [in Charlottesville]… so other Black queer and trans youth can see me on my journey and say, ‘Wow, I can do that and be happy.’”

Tags Black History, charlottesville, community, culture, Culture Watch, Education, Featured, Health, History, human interest, Local News

Community Development Education State Of The City William A. James Sr.

Vinegar Hill Remembered: Eminent Domain,Urban Removal, and The Demolition of a People’s Soul

Post author By Sonia Montalvo
Post date March 6, 2024
No Comments on Vinegar Hill Remembered: Eminent Domain,Urban Removal, and The Demolition of a People’s Soul

by William A. James Sr.

When I first arrived in the City of Charlottesville on June 11, 1963, some of the buildings on Vinegar Hill were still standing, though all of them had been abandoned. I wondered what had happened to cause an entire neighborhood to cease to exist. I later discovered that Vinegar Hill was once a twenty-acre tract, that 158 families—140 of them were Black—had called home. Black people were first allowed to own property there even before slavery ended. Eventually thirty businesses were established in the community which were run by Black people in the community. These businesses and residences were bordered by Preston Avenue, going Northwest to Fourth Street, and on around to West Main and Garrett Streets, in a sort of triangle. Charles Giametta wrote in The Daily Progress that a “1960s’ Survey showed Vinegar Hill’s Black b+usinesses grossed $1.6 million (A Billion, today), in 1959. There were five restaurants, four grocery stores, three barbershops, two furniture stores, an appliance store, a music shop, a shoe repair shop, a jewelry store, a taxicab stand, a tailor shop, a drugstore, an office equipment store, a printing shop, a dry-cleaning firm, a laundromat, a hat-cleaning shop, a gas station, and two second-hand and antique shops.” In This Essay I explore some of the reasons why Charlottesville’s Officials demolished Vinegar Hill, thus ending the cultural and business soul of Black Charlottesville.

From 1861 to 1961, African Americans served as the trusted servants that Wealthy Whites in the City of Charlottesville and in Albemarle County had used to amass fortunes during Slavery. After Slavery, Ex-Slaves became Loyal and Trustworthy Domestics who took care of all of the Rich Whites’ familial needs as Butlers, Maids, Cooks, Barbers, and Nannies. Hundreds of the above Domestics were domiciled on Vinegar Hill from the 1800s to the 1960s.The basis of the problem was most of the above Domestics and Laborers had never been paid a living wage; therefore, their lifestyles reflected their economic status. Domestics had been renters, who were at the mercy of Absentee Landlords—especially those who lived on Vinegar Hill. Landlords cared little about maintaining the properties they were renting to African Americans by keeping them up-to-par.

Alan Bruns, Writing In, The Richmond Times Dispatch, Sunday, November 16, 1958, tells us that Charlottesville Redevelopment and Housing Authority (CRHA), was studying 18-Acres, bounded by Main Street, Fourth Street N.W., and Preston Avenue, and had planned to clear the whole area, layout new streets, and utilities, and resell the land for commercial redevelopment. This was just four years after “The Brown Decision.” Charlottesville’s City Council got busy putting into place policies that paved the way that led to the displacement of 158 Families,140 of which were Black, from their homes, businesses, neighborhood, and their Church. They started by enacting “New Building Codes,” so that all the homes and businesses were classed as “Substandard.” People were no longer being considered at all. The City Officials used the word, “SLUM,” to discount anyone, or anything, existing on the Vinegar Hill Area. City Officials put forth a Plan to relocate all of the Black people from Vinegar Hill to Public Housing Units located far away from Downtown Charlottesville. The City, according to Bruns, “thought that the ‘SLUM,’ should be cleared immediately and all that land should be redeveloped. Using “Urban Renewal.” There was little attention paid to the fact that Vinegar Hill had long been the heart of Black residential, cultural, and business interests for all of Black Charlottesville.

Vinegar Hill Post Demolition. Photos courtesy of Bushman Dreyfus Architects

Shortly After WWWII, Just as Black Veterans returned home to Vinegar Hill from the European War Theater, rumors that the Charlottesville Government was planning on Razing their Homeplaces to the ground, However, financial difficulties foiled the City’s Plans, up until May 17, 1954. Soon after the Supreme Court’s Ruling, the City Council appointed a Committee to do a fast-paced study to find ways to remove the Black people off of Vinegar Hill.

This Committee was composed of Key Members of the Retail Merchants Association, The Charlottesville Chamber of Commerce, The League of Women Voters, and their Representatives on City Council. The Committee did a Survey and found that, “The Vinegar Hill Area had 549 persons living in 154 Dwelling-Units. These Units had 75 Indoor Toilets, 70 Out-Of-Doors, and 60 Baths and Showers. Rent in the Area ran from a high of $65.00-per month to a low of $7.00-per month. In addition to residential structures, there were 24 Nonresidential Structures, while some were very newly constructed buildings.”

Eminent domain always follows a certain identifiable path; Castigation, condemnation, property confiscation, and forced removal,” The first phase is “Castigation.” Here, the local government declares, loudly, that an Area is a “SLUM!” Then local government will, condemn the area, by saying that its buildings are all, “Predominantly Substandard.” All of the condemned area’s properties then become confiscated. Local government will pay the owners of the confiscated properties whatever it considers reasonable value for their confiscated residential and or business properties.” The previous owners are forced to move out after collecting the paucity of a settlement for their real estate plus an equally minimal amount of money for so-called moving expenses. Lastly, the buildings are razed. Once residential units and businesses have been torn down, local government seeks out private investors to come and commercially develop the area. Developers then construct “Condo-Complexes, Strip Malls, Motels/Hotels, or Grocery Stores, connected to national chains, and or, will erect State and Federal building facilities. Millions of dollars are made by big business owners and construction firms during and after “The Eminent Doman Processes.” Displaced home-and-business owners rarely got paid enough from their confiscated properties and the end result of Eminent Domain is gentrification. Those living in Vinegar Hill, with few exceptions, did not have the Right To Vote, and therefore had no way to launch a political confrontation against those who were victimizing them. Due to their displacement, residents were forced into low-income enclaves called, “Government Projects.” In Charlottesville, these consisted of several housing complexes including but not limited to, West Haven, Friendship Court, and Prospect Avenue.

Blacks Had Always Been the Victims of Urban Removal on Vinegar Hill, says Mary Rawlings, an Oral Historian, who states that from the earliest days of the Hill’s history, Vinegar Hill was originally called “Random Row,” because of the way the first houses were located on the Hill. The name, “Random Row,” was incorporated into the Town of Charlottesville in 1835.Mary tells us that wave-after-wave of Irish Immigrants invaded Charlottesville during the mid-to-1800s, due to The Potato-Famine in Ireland. The Irish, at first, lived among the house servants and freed slaves, but gradually took over complete control of the entire neighborhood, renaming “Random Row,” to “Vinegar Hill” in honor of Ireland’s Vinegar Hill, revolutionary battle had taken place. Most of the Freed Slaves were pushed off Vinegar Hill before the coming of the Civil War in 1861. The Black residents who had been pushed away from the Hill moved back at the end of the Civil War. Ann Carter, another Oral Historian, says that “Blacks were on The Hill before the Irish.”

For over A century, Vinegar Hill was The Center of Charlottesville’s Black Community. A.E. Arrington was the Executive Director who oversaw its razing. Arrington said he had talked with the people on the Hill beforehand, and he had been assured that, “Those People on that Hill are happy to be moving into a place (West Haven), with indoor Heat, Plumbing, and Bathrooms. They know that I’m giving them a much better place to live in than they’re moving out of. I think they know that I’m doing them a favor…” Arrington spoke mainly to The League of Women Voters who had no idea of what Vinegar Hill was genuinely like.

Mr. George Ferguson, Jr., a Member of the NAACP, was born on Hill’s Southern Edge where he grew up. George, Jr. eventually started a successful Undertaker Business on Ridge Street. He informs us that, “Vinegar Hill was far from being full of just Slum-Dwellers.” There were the presence of Federated women clubs, secret societies, and fraternal orders, which met in various members Homes and at Zion Union Baptist Church. The young people on the Hill, says Ferguson, were extremely interested in the Church. Zion Union became a Center for Social and Political interaction for all who dwelt on Vinegar Hill. That is how the Whole Community became so Close-Knit.

By December 23, 1963, Vinegar Hill was a Ghost Town. All of the buildings were abandoned. By February 10, 1964, demolition equipment moved through the area, leaving behind nothing but rubbish, and the nostalgia of those who had lost their Communal soul..Charlottesville’s City Officials feared that The Voting Rights Act would become Law Next. So, they wanted to remove every kind of connection Black people had from the Downtown area, even the Removal of their House of Worship, Zion Union.

Zion Union Baptist Church stood at 212-214th Street N.W. across from Jefferson Elementary School, had been at that location since 1907. On June 6, 1962, Rev. I. A. J. Kennedy—due to old age—passed the Mantel on to Rev. Henry Floyd Johnson. Rev. Johnson had only served that Congregation two years, when he had to inform his Church Family that CRHA had taken ownership of Church and had decided that the building would be demolished. The Whole Congregation was immediately ordered to vacate the Church’s Premises. Rev. Johnson continued to conduct Services for a time at Jefferson Elementary for about a year and eight months until December 20, 1964.On August 28, 1966, the New Zion Union Baptist Church opened their doors in a Great-New-Brick Building on Preston Avenue.

By 1973 Alan Clements’ Citizens Commonwealth Corp had constructed the first building on what was once Vinegar Hill, which had remained vacant since 1963. Clements’ Corp had purchased most of the land on the Hill from CRHA. In 1972, Citizens Commonwealth Corp had its first building constructed on Vinegar Hill. Black businesses and residents were all gone! In their Places were a white-owned businesses. Wyatt Johnson and his Brother had run a Shoe Repair Shop near Vinegar Hill. Mr. Johnson was one of the displaced Black people who was able to purchase another Home, after his forced removal from the area. Although he only received $7,400.00 from CRHA for his Home and Business, he had saved up enough money to build another home for $15,000.00. Most of the displaced people off Vinegar Hill were without the resources to buy New Homes, and ended up having to move into the City’s First Public Housing Project (West Haven).

So, I watched, day-after-day, in the 1960s, as the wrecking cranes, bulldozers, and dump trucks tore down and hauled away the Cultural Soul of Black Charlottesville. I was thinking, “They’re murdering that community by killing its businesses and destroying Its residences. What I witnessed made me sick to my stomach. It has stayed with me ever since. Because we were too quiet about the above, the same thing kept happening to Star Hill, Gospel Hill, Fifeville, We must not let them shove us around any longer! BLACK LIVES MATTER!

Tags american writers, Black History, Business, charlottesville, community, Education, History, human interest, Local News

Community Community Development Education History Shelley Murphy

Strategies for Effective African American Genealogy Research

Post author By Katrina Spencer
Post date August 22, 2023
No Comments on Strategies for Effective African American Genealogy Research

Dr. Shelley Murphy examines the Memorial to Enslaved Laborers at the University of Virginia. Photo credit: Emily Faith Morgan

by Dr. Shelley Viola Murphy, Descendant Project Researcher, University of Virginia; featured photo by Emily Faith Morgan

An avid genealogist for over 30 years, Dr. Shelley Viola Murphy, also known as “familytreegirl,” was born and raised in Michigan, and is now living in Central Virginia. She conducts genealogy workshops at local, state, and national conferences. As the Descendant Project Researcher for the University of Virginia, her goal is to locate as many descendants as she can of the enslaved laborers who built the University of Virginia. This involves intense genealogical research on the owners of the enslaved people in Central Virginia and the enslaved laborers from the slavery era between 1800 until freedom.

Tracing the genealogy of African American ancestors can present unique challenges due to the legacy of slavery and limited access to historical records. However, with the right strategies and resources, it is possible to overcome these obstacles and uncover the rich heritage of African American families. Let’s explore effective strategies that can aid you in combating these challenges and successfully conducting African American genealogy research. African Americans are drawn to genealogy research as a means to reclaim their identity, heal historical trauma, preserve family legacies, connect with extended family, and contribute to a more accurate historical understanding. The rewards of this research extend beyond personal fulfillment, impacting both individual lives and the broader collective memory of African American heritage.

1. Collaborate with others. One of the most valuable strategies in African American genealogy research is to collaborate with fellow researchers. Joining genealogy groups, online forums, local historical societies, and social media communities can provide a supportive network where knowledge and resources are shared. Engaging in conversations and exchanging ideas can lead to breakthroughs and new research avenues. For example, in the local area, there are three active genealogy groups: the Burke Brown Steppe African American Genealogy Group (BBS); the Central Virginia History Researchers (CVHR)), and the Central Virginia Genealogical Association (CVGA)) Each county, too, in Central Virginia, has a historical society, such as the Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society (ACHS).

2. Use Cluster Research. Cluster research involves viewing not only the direct ancestors but also the extended family members, neighbors, and community members. By analyzing the patterns and connections within the clusters, researchers can uncover valuable information that may lead to the identification of ancestral relationships and provide essential context for understanding their lives. Always consider who else was in the neighborhood of a direct ancestor.

A close up shot of the Memorial to Enslaved Laborers, some identified by name and others by profession; photo credit: Emily Faith Morgan

3. Explore DNA testing and genetic genealogy. DNA testing has revolutionized genealogy research, particularly for individuals with African ancestry. DNA tests can reveal connections to distant relatives and provide insights into ancestral origins. Participating in DNA projects and online communities dedicated to genetic genealogy can help researchers connect with others who share common genetic links. I suggest individuals begin with an autosomal DNA test from either Ancestry and/or 23andMe. Autosomal tests consider both your maternal and paternal side of your family. If you are looking to search just your father’s male line or just your mother’s female line, you would look to the Family Tree DNA company for Y-DNA and mtDNA.

4. Look beyond traditional records. While traditional records such as census records, vital records (such as birth, death, marriages/divorces, and adoption), and land deeds are important, African American genealogy often requires going beyond these documents. Investigate oral histories passed down through generations, family heirlooms, and personal collections for hidden stories and valuable information. Additionally, exploring local and regional histories can provide a broader context for understanding the lives of ancestors. In addition, if you research the slavery era period, you will also have to research the slave holders.

5. Utilize social history. Understanding the social history surrounding ancestors’ lives is crucial for African American genealogy research. Delve into cultural traditions, employment patterns, migration routes, and social networks that existed during the time period in question. This knowledge can offer valuable clues for locating records and shedding light on the lives of ancestors.

6. Be patient and persistent. Genealogy research requires patience and persistence, and this is especially true for African American genealogy. Accept that progress may come in small discoveries and breakthroughs rather than dramatic revelations. Maintaining a determined mindset and not giving up in the face of challenges is key to success.

A stream of water runs over the timeline feature of the Memorial to Enslaved Laborers. Photo credit: Emily Faith Morgan

7. Explore the local area where your ancestors lived. This is a vital aspect of African American genealogy research. Remember to value the resources available at public and university libraries and historical societies. These institutions house a treasure trove of invaluable materials that can greatly assist your research. Within their collections, you may find local history books, newspapers, city directories, and maps that provide insights into the social and cultural context of the community your ancestors were a part of. Historical societies often possess archives with rare documents, photographs, and personal papers that offer glimpses into the lives of African Americans in the area. Additionally, engaging with genealogy groups like BBS and/or CVHR, whether online or in-person, can provide guidance, expertise, and access to specialized resources specifically tailored to African American genealogy research. By taking advantage of these local resources, you can uncover hidden gems and connect with individuals who share your enthusiasm for local history, enhancing your research journey and unearthing invaluable information about your ancestors.

8. Seek professional assistance. If the research becomes particularly challenging, consider seeking assistance from professional genealogists who specialize in African American research. They possess expertise, access to unique resources, and knowledge of specific research methodologies that can help overcome hurdles and advance the research journey. Attending workshops, conferences, and webinars can also enhance skills and provide valuable insights. A collection of webinars I would recommend is “BlackProgen” on Youtube. There are over 100 webinars covering all topics around African American genealogy. The Midwest African American Genealogy Institute (MAAGI) is the only genealogy institute that focuses on African ancestry in the United States. They offer a three-day genealogy institute in July each year.

9. Track timelines. Timelines offer several benefits that can greatly enhance the research process. By logging information in chronological order, timelines provide a visual representation of your ancestors’ lives and the events that shaped them. This organization helps to identify gaps in your knowledge and pinpoint areas that require further investigation. By including what you know and what you are missing on the timeline, you can identify missing records or information, prompting you to delve deeper into specific time periods or locations. This methodical approach can guide your research and highlight potential research avenues. Additionally, timelines can help identify patterns, migrations, and connections between family members or community events that may not be immediately apparent. By visualizing the timeline, you may uncover previously unnoticed relationships or historical contexts that provide valuable insights into your African American ancestors’ lives. Embracing the use of timelines as part of your genealogy research toolkit can bring clarity, structure, and a proactive approach to overcoming common challenges.

10. Share information with others. Last, it is essential to recognize the immense value of people sharing their findings and stories about their African American ancestors. Genealogy research is not just about discovering names and dates; it is about connecting with the rich tapestry of human experiences and preserving the stories of those who came before us. By sharing your findings and engaging in conversations with others who are researching African American genealogy, you contribute to a collective knowledge base that benefits the entire community. Sharing findings can lead to collaboration, where different perspectives and insights come together to unravel complex family histories and break through research’s brick walls. Additionally, sharing stories and personal narratives of your ancestors helps to give them a voice and keep their memory alive. By sharing their triumphs, struggles, and contributions, you contribute to a more comprehensive understanding of African American history and heritage. Ultimately, the act of sharing fosters a sense of connection and solidarity among individuals with similar research interests, and it ensures that the legacy of African American ancestors continues to inspire and educate future generations.

To get involved with local efforts surrounding African American genealogical research, contact the Descendants of Enslaved Communities (DEC) at https://www.descendantsuva.org/.

Tags ancestry, DNA, family, geneaology, History, slavery

Community Community Development Education History Hometown Heroes Niya Bates

reReflector 03: Preserving the History of Black Education

Post author By Katrina Spencer
Post date August 15, 2023
No Comments on reReflector 03: Preserving the History of Black Education

Alumni gather around the historic highway marker for Pine Grove School in April 2023. Photo credit: Niya Bates

by Niya Bates; featured photo credit by author

Thirteen miles northeast of Charlottesville, an unassuming, one-story, white school building with two front doors on either side of a gabled vestibule sits across a paved parking lot from the historic St. John Baptist Church. Though the church has existed there since 1880, the present church building was built in 1919, and added onto over the years. The elementary school was built by members of the community in 1923 to replace an older, one-room schoolhouse that had previously served the community in the years immediately after emancipation (1865). These two buildings are the heart of Cobham’s Black community, where generations of the Byrd, Chapman, Dickerson, Kinney, Mahanes, Payne, and a dozen other families came to be spiritually and intellectually fed. A recent article, “The Reverend Speaks of Roots & Robes,” by Vinegar Hill Magazine’s editor, Katrina Spencer, speaks to the influential and important role that Black churches have played in African American history and culture. However, the focus of this installation of the (re)Reflector column is our historic Black primary schools and efforts to save the ones that still stand today.

St. John Rosenwald School in Cobham, Virginia. Photo credit: Niya Bates

During the Reconstruction Era (1865- 1877), in the immediate aftermath of the U.S. Civil War (1861- 1865), the Freedmen’s Bureau, the government agency that was responsible for assisting and protecting newly freed Black Americans and active from 1865 until its unceremonious abandonment by Congress in 1872, established Virginia’s first statewide, free public education system. The Freedmen’s schools only served Black students. Because education for enslaved people had been illegal in some places and highly discouraged elsewhere, children, their parents, and sometimes even grandparents crammed into what were often one-roomed, simple, wooden buildings to learn to read and write. In 1870, Virginia expanded free public education to include all residents. But, the ascendance of the Ku Klux Klan and white supremacist politics drastically slowed the expansion of schooling for Black communities, especially in rural areas.

Students and their teacher, possibly Ethel Nicholas or Bernice Ferguson, at the Cismont Training School, not dated. Source: Albemarle Charlottesville Historical Society

By the 1910s, there were wide gaps in schooling between white and Black students throughout the country. White enrollment in public schools had skyrocketed after federal Reconstruction started in 1865. Yet, school enrollment in the South continued to lag behind the rest of the country, and Black schools rarely received adequate public funding for school buildings, teachers, or books. Booker T. Washington, who was a graduate of the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute (now Hampton University) and founder of Tuskegee Normal and Industrial Institute (now Tuskegee University), partnered with Julius Rosenwald, a philanthropist and co-owner of Sears Roebuck, to establish a fund to support constructing school buildings throughout the South. From 1917- 1932, the Rosenwald Foundation supported the construction of over 5,300 schools, shop buildings, and teachers’ houses. In the later years of its operation, the Rosenwald Foundation also provided grants to Black scholars, writers, and artists including photographer Gordon Parks, opera contralto Marian Anderson, writer Ralph Ellison, and poet laureate Rita Dove. The one-of-a-kind partnership between Tuskegee University and the Rosenwald Foundation resulted in modern, state-of-the-art school building plans that were designed by Black Tuskegee architects and distributed to communities throughout the country. Community participation was written into the rural school building fund, and in order to receive funding and school plans, public school boards were required to contribute their own funding in addition to any money contributed by local Black communities and the Rosenwald Foundation. The Tuskegee-Rosenwald program supported the construction of 382 schools and support buildings in 79 counties in Virginia. Most of them were open until Virginia’s school systems were forced to integrate after the 1950s’ era of Massive Resistance, which was an attempt by Virginia lawmakers to circumvent school integration that resulted in the closure of Charlottesville City Schools in 1958.

The school plans were designed to be replicable so that as many communities as possible could have well built schools. Tuskegee architect Robert Robinson Taylor created a distinctive and now iconic layout of banked windows to capture the most daylight while reducing glare on student desks inside the classrooms. Sliding, accordion-style partitions allowed for multiple activities or classes to exist within the same space without distraction. One, two, and three-room school plans featured doors and windows that were positioned to create cross-ventilation and air flow. Shop buildings provided workspace for normal and technical education, which was intended to prepare students for work in the skilled trades within their communities. Teachers’ housing provided accommodations for educators to move into, often in isolated, rural communities, to live near their students.

When school integration shuttered Tuskegee-Rosenwald schools and other historically Black schools throughout the country, local Black communities became the first to rally to save them. In Albemarle County, St. John School and Cismont Training Schools were converted to private homes. Yancey Elementary School and Jefferson School became community centers. Others, like the Rose Hill Elementary School in Milton, sat vacant under the watchful care of the churches next door while people dreamed of having the resources to restore and rehabilitate them for other uses. Even with their herculean efforts, many of these important historic schools fell into disrepair and neglect as children and their families moved away in search of better opportunities, marriage prospects, and exposure to new places.

In the past decade, historic preservationists – people who work in the professional field dedicated to saving historic buildings and landscapes and enthusiasts from all walks of life – have begun working earnestly to save historic Black schools. Preservation Virginia, Virginia’s statewide historic preservation education and advocacy group, listed all of Virginia’s surviving Tuskegee-Rosenwald schools among the state’s most endangered historic resources in 2013. Because the Tuskegee-Rosenwald schools were part of a well known building campaign with a distinctive architectural style, they have benefitted the most from new preservation initiatives. However, all historic Black schools are invaluable resources in the telling of Virginia’s history. While I can’t highlight all of the projects here, I want to share a few notable examples and encourage readers to get involved with this movement.

St. John School

St. John School alumni at the dedication ceremony for their historic highway marker in 2016. Photo courtesy of Rebecca Kinney

I recently had the pleasure of talking with Kelvin Hawkins, Pastor of St. John Baptist Church, and Rebecca Kinney, an alumna of the St. John School, about their ongoing effort to restore the school and convert it into a family life and fitness center. The church purchased the school in 2003. Since then, Pastor Hawkins and Rebecca Kinney have formed a non-profit organization to leverage grant funding from Preservation Piedmont and the Building Goodness Foundation. This year, the St. John School is celebrating its 100th year, and Pastor Hawkins is brimming with enthusiasm to commemorate the occasion. Hawkins, whose mother attended the St. John School before going to high school at Albemarle Training School, said he was initially anxious about preserving such an important and overlooked part of Cobham’s history. He says, “a conversation with Jim Hare of Virginia’s Department of Historic Resources reassured us. He told us to split the project into phases, which is exactly what made us so successful.” Ms. Kinney’s mother also attended St. John in the first years that it was open and Rebecca was part of the last class to attend once schools integrated. When asked what she hopes people take away from visiting St. John, she replied, “I hope that things like our memorial patio and the restored classrooms will tell a story of how everyone was involved. It took a village to build it back then. Everyone was involved.” Additionally, she hopes for St. John School and the history of Booker T. Washington’s partnership with Julius Rosenwald to become part of our local K-12 curriculum. Speaking on the legacy of the school, Ms. Kinney remarked, “A school that was intended to keep us separate will unite us and sustain the community.” They will celebrate the school’s 100th anniversary later this fall once restoration work has been completed.

Pine Grove School

Pine Grove School in Cumberland County, Virginia. Photo credit: Niya Bates

While communities like Cobham (home of the St. John School), Charlottesville (home of the Jefferson School), and Esmont (home of the Yancey School), have had the luxury of time to be strategic in their preservation journey, others have been forced into action because of immediate threats. Such is the case for the Pine Grove School in Cumberland County, where alumna Muriel Miller Branch, her daughter Sonja, and a dedicated team of family, friends, and allies have come together to fight back against a planned mega landfill.

Pine Grove School Alumni pose next to a history exhibit in the school after readying the classrooms for an event. Photo credit: Niya Bates

Pine Grove School was one of five Tuskegee-Rosenwald Schools that was constructed in Cumberland County. The two-room school served grades one through seven with students seated by age and grade level. Mrs. Branch attributes her lifelong success as an educator and writer to the headstart that she received at Pine Grove when her teacher, Mrs. Gilliam, allowed her to join her older siblings at school a year before she was eligible to enroll. Branch formed the AMMD Pine Grove Project non-profit in 2018 to purchase the school and mount an environmental justice campaign against the Green Ridge Landfill. What originally started as a project to reclaim her family’s history in deeply rural Cumberland County, has evolved into a fight for the soul of historic preservation. Her daughter, Sonja Branch-Wilson, recently completed a fellowship with Preservation Virginia and is pioneering new ways to collect Black rural history through digitizing church programs and obituaries. They have already made an indelible impact by coining the “Tuskegee-Rosenwald” moniker that I have used throughout this story. In April, just after Booker T. Washington’s birthday, the AMMD Pine Grove Project erected a historic marker and celebrated the occasion with alumni and dozens of supporters. They have even formed a Youth Council to serve as tour guides of the site. Next, they plan to undertake the slow and tedious work of creating a rural historic district.

Each of the two schools above and their respective communities of alumni and descendants are working against the clock to preserve not only their school buildings, but the rural communities who built and depended on them. As Pastor Hawkins remarked in our conversation, the Tuskegee-Rosenwald Schools are an important part of United States history. Many living alumni of these schools are now in their 70s and 80s, and the time to collect their stories is now. Readers can get involved by recording oral histories of the elders in their communities; volunteering at the St. John School, Pine Grove School, Jefferson School, and others; and donating time and resources to the organizations that are preserving the history of Black schools. Lastly, schools like Pine Grove that are facing environmental justice battles, need community members to lobby elected officials for stronger environmental protections in vulnerable rural communities and for more robust investment in historic preservation.

Tags architecture, History, Jefferson School, preservation, Rosenwald, schools, Tuskegee

Community Development Education Entertainment History Hometown Heroes Niya Bates

(re)Reflector 02: A Queen Celebrates Juneteenth and Black Freedom

Post author By Katrina Spencer
Post date May 24, 2023
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Ms. Maxine Holland stands in her yard in Cobham, Virginia.

by Niya Bates and Ms. Maxine Holland

If you’ve attended a Black cultural event in Charlottesville, chances are you’ve seen Ms. Maxine Holland adorned in regal West African prints, with a gele (Nigerian) or duku (Ghanaian) head wrap crowning her head as she danced around the room educating people about Black history and culture. Or, perhaps, you were on the receiving end of a stern word of correction in Ms. Holland’s classroom. As her much younger cousin, and also a former student, I have seen and experienced the full breadth of Cousin Maxine’s zest for life, love for our family, and passion about our history. In every encounter, her voice and distinctive affect fill the corners of each space that she enters. Few people can command a room the way that Ms. Maxine Holland does. She is and has always been royalty within our community – a queen in all respects – and I’m not just saying that because I’m family.

Ms. Maxine Holland is crowned Miss Homecoming and poses with her attendants at Jackson P. Burley High School in 1967. The photo is from the high yearbook, Jay Pee Bee.

Born in the unincorporated community of Cobham in northeastern Albemarle County, Ms. Holland came of age during the era of segregation. She attended the three-room Keswick Elementary School and later Rose Hill Elementary School. In 1967, she graduated from Jackson P. Burley High School as part of the last class of graduates before Albemarle County integrated schools. She was also Burley High School’s last homecoming queen. After high school, Ms. Maxine remained at home to help her disabled mother. During that time, she worked a variety of jobs and developed a passion for working in the community. Through her many roles, she engaged community members of all ages and contributed to a diverse and vibrant African American community as church clerk at St. John Baptist Church, a troop leader for Girl Scout Troop #8, a volunteer for Johnson Halfway House, and Campaign Manager for Shirley Chapman, the first African American to seek a position on the Board of Supervisors in Albemarle County in 1970. Ms. Holland also launched numerous community initiatives including tutoring sessions for children in Cobham in nearby neighborhoods, teaching dance and rhythmic activities to preschoolers, conducting exercise classes for adults, organizing programs to raise awareness of Sickle Cell Anemia, and celebrating Pan-Africa Day (1970).

Ms. Maxine Holland tutoring students at St. John Baptist Church in Cobham, Virginia, 1970

Ms. Holland was accepted to Hampton Institute (now Hampton University) in 1972. That academic endeavor did not prevent her, however, from continuing to care for her mother. Every weekend, while in college, she traveled the 139 miles from Hampton to Cobham to relieve her grandmother, Mrs. Elsie Byrd, and other family members that were managing her mother’s care throughout the week. Unfortunately her mother, Susan Holland, made the transition before she graduated.

One year after completing a bachelor of science degree in physical education, she was offered a teaching assistantship at Hampton University. That position helped to pay tuition for a master’s degree in health education. Following graduate school, her journey as a teacher started. She held teaching positions at Kentucky State University, Spelman College, Gideons Elementary School (Atlanta, GA), Yancey Elementary School, Albemarle High School, and Fluvanna County High School. Her experiences in both segregated and integrated communities underscored the central importance of linking teachers, parents, and community in a triangle of advocacy in order to successfully educate a child. She honors Black teachers and their educational strategies that developed generations of successful Black men and women, in spite of segregation. Ms. Holland maintains that the wisdom and strategies of Black educators were lost during the era of integration, which catapulted Black children into settings designed to arrest their cultural, social, and intellectual development. Therefore, at every level of education, she found herself incorporating some of the methods and strategies used by her teachers, especially their classroom management techniques. In addition, she integrated Black history into all subjects. She was more concerned with preparing students to function beyond the classroom with a sense of character and self-sufficiency than training them to get jobs and become consumers. Ms. Holland quips that she could speak at length about Black self-sufficiency, but that’s for another day.

Ms. Maxine Holland with Men on a Mission participants in Reverend Dr. Calvin Butt’s Office in Abyssinian Baptist Church of Harlem, 1998

Prior to leaving public education, she founded and directed Men On A Mission, a club designed to help raise the level of consciousness among young African American men. With the help of Diallo Sessoms, Brian Wilson, James Bryant, Greg Davis, and Harold Boyd, Black male youths partook in many cultural and historical experiences, including traveling to some major cities to see how their ancestors had contributed to the overall growth and development of the United States. Accompanied by Ms. Holland and others, the club visited Harlem (NYC), Atlanta, Birmingham, Montgomery, and Selma where they toured cultural centers like the Schomburg in Harlem and historic Civil Rights Movement sites like the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma. As a result of Men on a Mission, Ms. Holland believes the young men were able to move through time and space with a greater sense of competence, confidence, character and courage. She later founded and directed The Shule (shoe-lay) Society, a rites of passage program for young Black women intended to help them navigate the challenges of life while maintaining peace and harmony in their lives. Around the same time, she organized and served as Facilitator of the Family Council at The Cedars Nursing Home, which was a support group for nursing home residents and their families.

After twenty-eight years of teaching, Ms. Holland retired in 2015 but kept her passion for working in the community. She will tell you that her motivation for doing community work is an attempt to continue the tradition & legacy of women who were servant-leaders during segregation and worked tirelessly to help meet the needs of the community. Ms. Holland credits the following women for inspiring her: Mrs. Ann Dickerson, Mrs. Shirley Chapman, and Mrs. Susan Holland (all of the Cobham Community); Mrs. Sally Turner and Mrs. Bernice Mitchell (Cismont Community); Sis Elizabeth Washington (Keswick Community); Mrs. Virginia Carrington and Mrs. Grace Tinsley (Charlottesville).

In 2000, Mrs. Tamyra Turner organized the first Juneteenth celebration. Ms. Holland was asked to be a presenter. Her presentation was about some of the dances that originated on the plantation like the Cake Walk, Juba, Ring Shout, Jig, Buck and Wing and demonstrated how movements in those dances mimic dances that evolved in the 1950s and 1960s. Starting in 2001, she helped Mrs. Turner plan and organize the Juneteenth celebrations. From 2001-2015, the celebrations were held on the campus of Piedmont Virginia Community College. Then, in 2016, the celebration moved to the African American Heritage Center in collaboration with Dr. Andrea Douglas.

Ms. Maxine Holland (2nd from left) during a reenactment of village life in Togo, Ghana, and Nigeria during the 2003 Juneteenth program at Piedmont Virginia Community College (PVCC)

Juneteenth is among the oldest celebrations of freedom in this country. The celebration originated in Galveston, Texas on June 19, 1866, and its name is derived from blending June and nineteenth – the date in 1865 that U.S. Army Major General Gordon Granger arrived in Galveston to read a proclamation announcing the end of the Civil War and the freedom of those who remained enslaved. The celebration grew out of the euphoria surrounding the transition from slavery to freedom. It also represents the joy of freedom and the chance for a new beginning. As a historical note: slavery did not end for all enslaved people at the same time because the Emancipation Proclamation of 1863, issued by then President Abraham Lincoln, was not recognized in the confederate states that had seceded from the Union. Thus, the American Civil War brought about freedom for nearly four million people. Depending on what state you’re in, Juneteenth might alternatively be known as Liberation Day, Emancipation Day, Jubilee Day or Freedom Day. In Charlottesville, we celebrate Liberation and Freedom Day on March 3rd. Juneteenth became a federal holiday in 2021.

Juneteenth celebrations throughout the country typically feature song and dance, parades, historical demonstrations, and ceremonies honoring Black veterans. Drawing from the Black power and Pan-African movements, Juneteenth celebrations feature the colors red, green, black, and blue prominently. This includes the food! Favored Juneteenth foods include red velvet cakes, red punch, tea cakes, sugar cookies, soul food, barbeque, and foods representing luck and abundance in Black culture, for example greens and black eyed peas. All of these festive elements have been part of our local Juneteenth celebrations over the years.

A woman dances to African drumming during the 2019 Juneteenth event at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center.

Over the years, Ms. Maxine Holland has been adamant about maintaining the historical significance and integrity of Juneteenth. She ensured that the presenters, activities, and overall content were relatable and relevant. Last year’s celebration was among the best. It included a parade with over 300 participants, lots of dancing, singing, socializing and Black joy. Celebrating life in a nation seemingly dedicated to Black suffering and death helps to make Juneteenth so very special because not only do we celebrate freedom, but also Black joy in the process.

After 20 years of planning and organizing, Ms. Holland “passed the baton” to the next generation. She encourages Black families to start a tradition of celebrating Juneteenth – host a cookout, play baseball games, share family history– and encourages us not to rely on an outside source to plan the celebration. By doing those things, she hopes Black communities can resist the commercialization and appropriation of Juneteenth by other audiences.

Ms. Maxine Holland (center) with Sgt. Major Keyana Washington (right) during the Veterans Day celebration in 2022.

While there are many more reasons to give this queen her flowers, her work to raise awareness of and to celebrate Black culture locally remain paramount. In 2015, Ms. Holland became co-founder of the Veterans Committee of Central Virginia. Its Mission is to more fully contextualize and honor through education the often overlooked stories of Black military service in the United States Armed Forces, past and present. Each year, the group hosts a commemoration of the African American military experience. This year will mark its ninth year. While Ms. Holland is leaning into her well earned retirement, she plans to continue as executive director of the Veterans Committee.

Ms. Maxine Holland believes that many of the problems that plague the Black community can be countered by educators and leaders who have a clear sense of history, culture, identity, group unity and self-determination. She further encourages Black folks to study our history. Paraphrasing from Carter G. Woodson, the “Father of Black History”, Ms. Holland writes, “if a people had no recorded history, its achievements would be forgotten or ignored and eventually claimed by others.” She continues, “If you destroy the history, you destroy the evidence. Don’t let that happen.”

Tags educator, History, Jefferson School African American Heritage Center, Juneteenth

Community Community Development Hometown Heroes Katrina Spencer Religion

The Reverend Speaks of Roots & Robes

Post author By Katrina Spencer
Post date April 21, 2023
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Pastor Carolyn Dillard stands in the pulpit at Zion Hill Baptist Church in Keswick, Virginia

Hands down, Carolyn Dillard wins two superlative categories in my book. For one, she is the most stylish person I’ve met in all of Charlottesville. When we meet to talk in the Belmont neighborhood, she’s wearing a fitted top in an army fatigue pattern with a generous ruffle detail on one shoulder. Her leopard print purse hangs off one arm and she is balanced in black high heels, each embellished with a gold-toned DKNY metallic brand plate. The nails are done and I make sure to ask her for her lipstick details before I leave so she can help up my game: Amour Beauty’s Sugar Butter in shade Copper 308. (You think I wasn’t taking copious notes? My order will arrive in 3- 4 business days.) She reminds me of The Commodores’ 1977 hit “Brick House.” She’s fashion on legs: “well put-together,” they sang, “everybody knows/ This is how the story goes.”

a woman kneels at a grave — Pastor Carolyn Dillard kneels at a grave site at Zion Hill Baptist Church in Keswick, Virginia.

The other superlative? She’s also the most rooted person I’ve met in all of Albemarle County. The property she lives on in Keswick was purchased by her paternal grandparents, Gordon and Cora Miitchell in 1929, ninety-four years ago. It’s the same site where she grew up. In comparison, our life stories, at least in terms of geography, differ greatly: hers is steady, a continued line of local and multi-generational knowledge. Mine, a sampling of life experience far and wide. Where she goes deep and consistent, I go broad and varied. In this regard, she reminds me of the Cheers theme song from the late 1980s: she lives where “everybody knows [her] name.” And her husband’s. And her children’s. And her sister’s. And her parents’, Kenneth & Bernice Mitchell, who have passed on.

We both recognize the rarity of our encounter and look to learn from each other, and she generously spoils me with details of her life. We start in her childhood and she tells me that her father drove a cab for 48 years and her mother worked in service to a local family, mostly in the way of meal preparation. Every report card from her teachers, she tells me, stated “Carolyn talks too much.” Hence, as an interviewee, she is every journalist’s dream as she keeps the conversation flowing.

a man and a woman embrace — Married couple Mike and Carolyn Dillard embrace.

Long threads of intimate bonds are a recurrent theme in Carolyn’s life. Her friends today date from her Head Start Program, high school, and her historically Black sorority, Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Inc. at George Mason University, which she pledged in the fall of 1984. Even the man she married 23 years ago was one she met while a teenager in high school. Were that not enough evidence of her grounding, Carolyn, too, grew up immersed in the Christian church, attending every Sunday, faith being an important expression of identity for both of her parents. And as Proverbs 22:6 states, “Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old, he shall not depart from it,” Carolyn’s destiny brought her to the pulpit. With a Master’s of Divinity degree from the renowned and historically Black Samuel DeWitt Proctor School of Theology at Virginia Union University, Carolyn, ordained, is also the first female pastor of Keswick’s historically Black Zion Hill Baptist Church.

The call to carry out the Lord’s plans wasn’t one Pastor Dillard heeded readily. But, even in that reluctance, she is like those who came before her. Biblical precedent appears to all but require hesitance and doubt. Let me rattle off a few Biblical names and scenarios for you. These quotes, clearly, are verbatim. We’d never publish anything less.

Sarah to God: You want who to have a baby? You got jokes. Lord, I’m an old lady!

God: Do it anyway.

(Genesis 18:12- 15)

Moses to God: You want me to speak for you? You know I ain’t no wordsmith!

God: Do it anyway.

(Exodus 4:10)

Jonah to God: Who’s supposed to share the good news? Surely not I! I’m gonna take a swim!

God: Do it anyway.

(Jonah 1-3)

Carolyn Dillard to God: Huh? Who? What? When? Where? How? Why? Me?!

God: Do it anyway.

(Early 2010s before Carolyn launched her clerical path)

Needless to say, some resistance was encountered on Pastor Dillard’s proverbial road to Damascus. She will celebrate five years as pastor where she leads her congregation, offering a range of services, among them sermons on Sundays and premarital counseling for couples preparing to jump the broom.

The sanctuary building of Zion Hill Baptist Church in Keswick, Virginia

When I approach the house of worship, I see that the property is surrounded by tombstones that honor past church members and congregants, which have all been mapped by the church’s family historian, Gloria Gilmore. Honoring one’s ancestors is part of Zion Hill Baptist’s essential fabric. The traditional, white, steeple-like structure on the building contrasts with the sign on the door asking all who attend to wear masks. While the architecture takes me back to the 19th century, the precautionary measures for avoiding COVID-19 remind me readily that we are living in 2023. This juxtaposition is central to church-related discourse across the nation: tradition vs. modernity.

Pastor Dillard’s church, like many others in the United States, is following national trends. Fewer and fewer young people are making it into the pews. I think about that as I sit in the last row on Good Friday, looking at the stained glass windows, eyeing the hymnals stored throughout the sanctuary, and taking in the beautiful banner that celebrates over 150 years of the church’s existence. It’s the first time I’ve sat in a church in over three years, little of that absence having much at all to do with the pandemic. I was trained to put on a dress and Mary Janes every Sunday, provide tithes and offerings, and shout “Hallelujah, Jesus is Lord!” But I have doubts about returning to that training and those roots.

Whether the decline in youth attendance is because of general disillusionment with organized religion, broadening views about inclusion, or the distractions brought about by the rapid advancements of a technologically connected society, the result is the same: this church’s members are largely seniors, or close to it at age 55 or above. If younger folks are achieving a sense of community, it appears that often it isn’t through church, contrary to the cornerstone it once was up through the mid-20th century. Pastor Dillard and I try to place our fingers on what precisely changed but come up empty-handed. While I’m undecided about whether my feeling about this fact is one of lamentation, I do not deny the church’s organizational power of the past and how it ushered our people forward.

What we do agree on is the need to question the information with which we’re presented. Who wrote the books of the Bible, when, and for whom? Did the authors envision the texts traveling overseas and becoming the comfort of an enslaved people of African descent? And does that matter? To what extent does a textual world of kings and concubines, stonings and pestilence, resurrection and redemption apply to a modern one of mass shootings, gender fluidity, climate change, artificial intelligence, medicine, and terrorism? Pastor Dillard lives fully in the present and finds that “often what people need is more than a prayer,” she says. “Doctors, psychiatrists, and therapists, too,” she acknowledges, are part of an entire gamut of resources for our wellness and systems of support. She preaches love and insists that damning people to hell is not the answer. “People need to be heard and loved and loved on,” she says. And as far as I have seen, she walks the walk and talks the talk.

Pastor Dillard’s ministry is groundbreaking not only for turning away from the messaging of condemnation and hellfire, but also because she’s the first woman to lead the body in a century and a half! Numerically speaking, Pastor Dillard realizes that the clergy is a man’s world and her mere presence disrupts ages of assumptions and homogeneity. And were that not enough, she is also employed full-time at the University of Virginia as the community partnerships manager. One of her roles is helping local residents to be informed about the university’s plans of development and expansion through neighborhood engagement. Her passion can be found in “the horror and healing” found in the walls of the “Virginia Mist” granite of the Memorial to Enslaved Laborers (MEL). So she wears many hats, bringing unique flair and fashion to an old institution in a new age. It is unlikely that any faith leader at this time has a clear roadmap forward, but Carolyn Dillard, rooted and robed, can be sure about one thing: her momentum will be one of great impact that nods to the past and embraces a future of love– and lovely couture.

To find out more about Carolyn Dillard and her many roles in the Central Virginia community, visit Descendants of Enslaved Communities at the University of Virginia (https://www.descendantsuva.org/). Sunday services at Zion Hill Baptist Church are held at 11:00 a.m. at 802 Zion Hill Road, Keswick, Virginia 22947.

Tags church, History, Kewick, Memorial to Enslaved Laborers

Community Community Development Hometown Heroes Katrina Spencer

Building a Legacy that Outlasts You

Post author By Katrina Spencer
Post date April 10, 2023
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Founder of Vinegar Hill Magazine Eddie Harris sits in Charlottesville's Booker T. Washington Park.

Written by Katrina Spencer; featured image by Kori Price

a man dressed in black leans on a chair — Eddie Harris, publisher and founder of Vinegar Hill Magazine, photograph provided by Katrina Spencer

When we sit down, it’s at the Shenandoah Joe’s on 10th & Preston, right alongside Washington Park, the area Eddie Harris grew up in, “on the Height.” It’s unseasonably warm outside– over 80 degrees– and we’re only three days into spring. Not all the cherry blossoms have opened up yet. The UVA students are back from break. And the uptick in gun-related deaths in Charlottesville has us all a bit more alert about local activity than perhaps we want to be.

For me, it’s a big moment. I am now the steward of stories of the magazine that Eddie created some 12 years ago, and for four months now, I have tried to do his vision justice with the writers, stories, and themes I recruit. Sometimes I wonder if I veer well off the path. But Eddie assures me that Vinegar Hill Magazine (VHM) is boundless in its aspirations. He is our publisher and my elder, and my position exists because of the seed of an idea he nurtured long before I even knew what Charlottesville was.

a woman posing — Katrina Spencer, Content Manager and Editor of Vinegar Hill Magazine, photo provided by Katrina Spencer

He’s wearing black VHM swag and chewing a chocolate chip cookie. I’ve frosted my fro in a goldish pink and, as my generation demands, I’m trying to stay hydrated. We’re different and the same. He’s a Southerner who knew segregated schools in the 1960s and whose life introduced him to street hustles and hard knocks early on. I’m a transplant from California whose classmates’ last names from elementary through grad school, 1990- 2016, ranged from Ávila to Bekmezian to Chun to Go to Oni and to Surendranath, to name a small, but diverse subset. My first real job? Librarian. It don’t get no mo’ strait-laced than that.

But there’s at least two things we clearly have in common: we’re proud to be Black and are invested in the restoration of our people’s dignity. So we find ways to compile our goals, negotiate our strategies, and find common ground. We both want to support narratives that inspire discovery, possibility, and truth.

a school picture of a boy — Eddie Harris as a child. Photo provided by Eddie Harris

At my prompting, Eddie begins to tell me his story– one of a close and intimate community that offered supportive guidance and a strong sense of identity. Within it, he was loved by his biological and chosen families. Though he lost his father early on to lung cancer, there were enough parental figures about to make him, the baby of the family, feel whole. While he wasn’t rich in dollars, he was in loving care.

When the Charlottesville schools were desegregated, however, Eddie’s sense of normalcy was destabilized and his identity shaken. This historic event would become a major turning point in his life. Where before the people on his left and on his right all looked like him, once integration efforts came underway, he had to travel a greater distance to school. He and his peers were subjected to abuse, which included verbal harassment by strangers as they plodded their new paths there. And often he was the only Black male in his classes. While his family and loved ones celebrated his intelligence and athletic performance, the new schooling environment seemed to persistently suggest to him that he was less than, inferior in some inexplicable but inherent way, and the cognitive dissonance got to him. He carried this friction within him that resisted resolution and festered into a sense of resentment.

a photo of a boy in baseball gear — A photograph of Eddie Harris playing baseball in Washington Park as a child, provided by Eddie Harris

It wasn’t long before his actions and behaviors started to match the low and poor expectations the broader systems of power had of him. The loving community, his all-star baseball team, and even the pro-Black politics of the ‘70s wouldn’t be able to save him from tripping over the proverbial snares in his path. The streets were calling his name, and he answered. Getting caught up on the wrong side of the law, Eddie would be incarcerated, staring down a potential sentencing of 30 long years. “But God…won’t He do it?”

Divine intervention kept Eddie’s time behind bars relatively low– about a tenth of what was expected. Rehabilitative programs like the Locust Therapeutic Community and work release gave him the opportunity to demonstrate that there was nothing mean, hardened, criminal, or irredeemable in him– just a general disorientation and a need to reset his mind. So while he was detoured and delayed, he was able to resume a stable path.

It was at this time that the idea for building a media platform that would honor the Black community began to churn inside him. He noted that stories in the local media were casting his people in a poor light, and it rubbed him all wrong. But moreover, the depiction he saw simply didn’t represent the warmth, care, and bonds he knew. Only a portion of the truth was being told, and that portion wasn’t large enough. And if the phrase “If you want something done right, do it yourself” was a person, its name would be Eddie Harris.

the cover of a glossy magazine — The cover of the Spring 2023 issue of Vinegar Hill Magazine, featuring Jay Simple.

In 2011, Vinegar Hill Magazine (VHM) was born. [Kind of.] It didn’t look like it does now: glossy, full color, 40 pages long, and full of ads promoting local businesses. No. VHM was a humble newsletter before it was a magazine. It was made up of just a few pages. Local contributors wrote in their stories, and Eddie would distribute the publication by hand to anyone who would take it. Grassroots all the way. Since its early beginnings, VHM has covered stories of Black entrepreneurship, local politics, travel, community arts, events, and more, providing evidence that counters the idea that Black people are any less than any other. Eddie, then, is obliterating the same tension that discomfited him as a boy and nurturing his community in doing so.

a man posing in front of a piano — Sarad Davenport, Chief Operating Officer of Vinegar Hill Magazine, photo provided by Sarad Davenport

And since chief operating officer Sarad Davenport signed on to help steer the periodical in 2013, he reports that VHM can boast over 6,000 followers, subscribers and members combined, more than 10 contributing writers, a staff of nine part-time staff and contractors, quarterly print circulation, an open access website, gear you can purchase by clicking “Merch” at vinegarhillmagazine.com, a variety of sponsorships for local events, a partnership with the Charlottesville Inclusive Media Project, and the recent win of the Borealis Philanthropy grant. In other words, it seems to be doing pretty well by most any metric.

Eddie affirms that the magazine is more than a mere publication. Rather, it is representative of a mindset. His desire has always been to create something larger than himself, larger than any one editor, and something that will outlive us all. One thing we agreed on early in our discussion is that the Church and the family aren’t the central and unifying institutions they once were for the Black community. Knowing this, Eddie hopes to see VHM rewrite history, to become a household name, and to be a thread that reunites the local Black community. Another phrase that embodies Eddie’s vision? “The sky is the limit.”

I scratch out copious notes listening to Eddie’s aspirations, alternating between lamenting my failing penmanship and lending him my eye contact, frequently grunting to indicate I hear him. As politely as she can, a barista reminds us all that the coffee shop closed six minutes ago. I gather up my things knowing that not only did I have more questions to ask Eddie and that we were just getting started over an hour into conversation, but also that there are three submitted VHM stories I’m due to edit this week from our writers on a local and historic restaurant, a trip to Europe that reveals its Black diaspora, and media makers like Thomas Jerome “TJ” Sellers. It seems, Eddie, we are on our way to building that much yearned for legacy, and we hope to do you proud.

To become a member of Vinegar Hill Magazine, visit https://www.vinegarhillvintage.com/products/annual-content-membership. Find Vinegar Hill Magazine’s stories at vinegarhillmagazine.com. If you have excellent writing skills and want to write for the publication or seek coverage of a story or event, write vinegarhillmag@gmail.com.

Tags African American, Black, charlottesville, Eddie Harris, History, incarceration, integration, Journalism, Katrina Spencer, Legacy, Media, Sarad Davenport, Segregation, TJ Sellers, Vinegar Hill

Channing Mathews Community Community Development History Hometown Heroes

(Re)Living Black Histories with Niya Bates

Post author By Katrina Spencer
Post date February 24, 2023
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Niya Bates, the interviewee

by Channing Mathews, PhD

This month I have the honor of introducing our newest contributor to Vinegar Hill Magazine, the soon-to-be Dr. Niya Bates. Niya is a public historian working to preserve the stories of the rural African American community in Central Virginia (VA). She directed the Getting Word African American Oral History Project at Monticello, and her work is featured in several news outlets. However, you might be most familiar with her from her recent stint in episode 3 of the Netflix series High on the Hog, which details how African American cuisine is embedded within the American story. Niya expertly describes the conditions under which Thomas Jefferson’s enslaved chef, James Hemings (brother of Sally Hemings), came to Monticello and merged the techniques of Virginian and French cuisine to delight the many guests Jefferson hosted in his home.

two people walk on a dirt road — Stephen Satterfield (left) with Niya Bates (right) on Mulberry Row at Monticello. 2020. Photo Credit: Netflix

My interests in Black food histories led me to Niya, and she enthralled me with the story of her career journey. I learned of her work as a public historian dedicated to preserving the collective memory of African American residents in Central VA—including that of her own family. As a Charlottesville native, Niya has traced six generations of her family across Albemarle, Orange, Louisa, and Fluvanna counties in Virginia. Her journey as a double Hoo (i.e., she holds both a bachelor’s and master’s degree from the University of Virginia) is a story of return to her roots and finding her place within the communities that most nurtured her.

As I sat down to interview Niya, her joy and brilliant smile lit up the cozy coffee room at the Jefferson School African American Heritage Center as she shared with me her public history journey. We laughed together as we connected on our academic journeys, with me assuring her that this too (i.e., doctoral grind struggles) shall pass. It is here where I leave it to Niya to take you on the brilliant adventure that is her journey to becoming a public historian.

Channing Mathews (CM): {Laughter} A learn-ed person who just wanted more learning. I love it. So, tell me, how did you get your start as a historian?

Niya Bates (NB): Oh, man, I wouldn’t say being a historian was my first calling. When I went into school, I thought I was going to work in advertising. In high school, I had been pretty artsy and I thought, “Okay, let’s continue this.” And that’s what we want to do professionally. But after matriculating at UVA, I took a class that was an intro to African American studies that was taught by [Dr.] Claudrena Harold and I was pretty much hooked from there forward… It definitely shaped my career path. It was actually a year spent serving in AmeriCorps that got me thinking about how identity and place are interconnected. The kids that I was working with also grew up here in the Charlottesville community. Those kids had such a different worldview than my own. I couldn’t process why at the time, but it made me want to think more about place and people. That led me to architectural history, which really was a godsend, pulling together all the things that I’m interested in: Black communities, rural landscapes, and thinking about these ideas about how spaces shape our beliefs. So, I kind of stumbled into this career and I’ve really enjoyed it.

CM: So you describe yourself as public historian. Could you tell us what that means? What made you want to be a public historian versus any other type of historian?

NB: Yes, I also stumbled all the way into public history. In grad school, I interned at Monticello in the Restoration Department. At the time, they were researching how to restore the landscape of slavery and that meant restoring Mulberry Row, which was the plantation main street where the bulk of the activity of the enslaved laborers took place. I interned there for a year and I absolutely loved it. I’ve never wanted an office job and I’ve never wanted a job that would be the same every day. That internship showed me how I could use that academic study of buildings and landscapes and apply it in very real world, public facing conditions that would allow people to see a different aspect of the history they weren’t familiar with. So, we traveled all around the state that year doing documentations of slave quarters, kitchens, different details like door moldings and window moldings— the kind of bricks and sticks things that architectural historians are interested in.

But that’s when I kind of knew that I wanted that to be my career. After I graduated, I worked at Montpelier for a year, where I was a founding member of the Preservation Department there. They were in the process of restoring their slave quarter and a slave yard at the South Yard at Montpelier. While there, I was doing more traditional architectural history. I enjoyed that because I enjoyed bricks and sticks and buildings and decorative little things, right? But I wasn’t working with people. And I really love people. So, I jumped at the position that came open at Monticello to be their public historian and to lead the Getting Word African American Oral History Project. And it’s been probably the honor of my lifetime so far to serve those descendants, and to be able to reconnect them with their ancestral landscapes and knowledge and the communities.

six people seated and speaking as a panel — Niya Bates (third from right) with panelists on stage at Unmasking Cville. 2018. Photo Credit: Virginia Humanities

CM: So, tell us what does your day-to-day work look like since you don’t have a typical office job?

NB: I would say when I worked for Monticello a day could look like regular administrative stuff in the morning and maybe an afternoon spent interviewing a descendant. Or it could be a morning spent doing archival research and an afternoon spent walking around with descendants in the landscape and getting their advice on what they want to see in the interpretation, or what stories they want us to share in the exhibits. It could also just be a full day of giving tours… or it could be visiting other historic sites and seeing how they interpret slavery. So, my days were very different at Monticello. Now, I’m a grad student, and my days look pretty much the same. I crack open a book, do some reading, take some notes, and then I’m writing. So, my days are pretty basic now {Laughter}. This too shall pass?

two people address an audience outdoors — Niya Bates (left) and Justin Reid (right) at Pine Grove School in Cumberland, VA. 2020. Photo Credit: AMMD Pine Grove Project

CM: Yes, that too shall pass…eventually. {Laughter} As a public historian from Charlottesville, what does it mean for you to study Black history from this context and being from here?

NB: I think in many instances, as you know, the academy prioritizes distance from your topics, right? That there’s this “objective” perspective where you could be outside of a story. And you really can’t. Every writer, and every person who presents stories brings who they are into it, which for me has been so interesting. The more that I studied this area’s history, the more I learned about myself, my family, their contributions to this area. You know? The more I study this place’s past, the more I learn about opportunities and possibilities for our future, if that makes sense. So, I do this work, because in my mind it is very future oriented, because I think we can actually make this community better for everybody. But that involves being honest about our past and reckoning with some very ugly things: racial violence, slavery, toxic development, all sorts of things. But we have to do that in order to know how to fix those problems. And to make it better.

woman standing on an outdoor walkway — Niya Bates under the South Wing at Monticello. 2018. Photo Credit: Thomas Jefferson Foundation

CM: Yeah. Holding all of us accountable to understanding and the true history.

NB: Yeah, I mean, if you need somebody with receipts, right?

CM: Exactly. You got all the receipts! I love it. I love historical receipts. Yeah. So, in thinking about this work, what’s the greatest challenge around it?

NB: I think in the time that we’re living in where people feel like they are lied to about the past. No matter how they approach that history, it’s challenging to present facts and have people understand that those things are, in fact, facts, and not speculation. It’s not “woke history,” it is just history. Like, these are just the stories that have been either omitted from the archive or forcefully suppressed through years of white supremacist perspectives about this nation, about this city, and about our history. And so, I think the hardest thing for me is trying to figure out how to communicate the truth, as we see it through the archival sources, through research and through landscapes, and to get people to receive it openly. And not to call it “woke”, or whatever, to label it that way.

CM: Yeah. I love it. I love it. And as a soon-to-be contributor to Vinegar Hill Magazine, tell us a little bit about your column.

NB: Yeah, I’m really hoping the column will make history something people love again. You know? I think so often because our history is presented in such negative ways, it’s overly focused on the negative. I hope my column can highlight resilience, resistance, joy, what people did for fun, like those upbeat elements of Black history. Because I think we need more of those stories. We need more of the stories about what sustained us and what kept us, and less of the stories about what attempted to break us. Because the attempt to break Black people was never successful. So, we have to talk about what keeps us here and what keeps us going and what makes Black culture and Black history so great.

CM: Absolutely.

Niya and I hug goodbye like two old friends who just caught up over a few cocktails, eager for the next meeting. I’m excited to share space with her as a columnist here at Vinegar Hill Magazine, and I hope that our shared space helps you to feel the same. Be on the lookout for Niya’s column entitled “(re)Reflector” to hit the magazine very soon.

Tags architecture, Central Virginia, History, Monticello, Montpelier

Business Channing Mathews Community Community Development Food and Drink

Pass the Cornbread!

Skillet cornbread featured at the Ridley. Image provided by author

by Channing Mathews

When I think of cornbread, I am immediately transported to my maternal grandma’s Floridian kitchen, where both my grandma and eldest Auntie were always cooking up a storm. My grandma’s tiny house would be filled with the delicious smells of collards, stewed catfish, and saffron rice, with gravy bubbling nearby. But nothing beat the cornbread. That curiously warm mostly-bread-but almost cake always had me on my tippy toes, peering into the kitchen hoping that I would get that warm corner bite…you know, the one with crunchy edges. And that sweet savory bite of yellow goodness and golden sunshine hitting my tastebuds is ingrained in my memory forever…and is my standard for excellence.

My momma took crunchy edges to the next level when she introduced a cornbread variation, cracklin’ bread, into our lives and into my always hungry belly. In this version, my momma used yellow cornmeal and added in pieces of pork crackling, which is essentially pieces of crispy and chewy pork skin– think of bacon with more emphasis on the lard– and jalapeño…whew, chile! You talk about DELICIOUS!

Though my momma’s side of the family stuck to yellow cornbread, my papa is notorious for his skillet white cornbread. I would watch in fascination as he made what Southerners call “hoe-cake bread.” Using a black skillet, I would watch him pour the white cornmeal batter into the hot pan, sizzling as it landed. As bubbles percolated the top of the gooey mixture, he would flip the cake in one swoop, exposing a crispy brown underside. Once done, the dense brown cake was ready to serve, and I’d be salivating over every crispy crunch.

As an adult I still love cornbread in its many varieties, and the stories that come with them. Even in my own family, you can see the evolution of cornbread and its many varieties. Cornbread is a traditional food that can be found across many Black holiday dinner tables across the US. Whether we are celebrating Thanksgiving or just having a regular Sunday dinner, you will often hear a “Pass the cornbread” as you pile your plate with deliciousness.

The three versions of cornbread that capture my childhood– yellow/sweet cornbread, crackling bread, and hoecake bread– are all representations of a blended history between Indigenous and Black enslaved people’s cooking that have been passed down through our generations. As food historian and author Michael Twitty notes in his book, The Cooking Gene, cornbread is rooted in the cooking practices of Indigenous peoples across what is now known as the Southeastern United States and Mexico. Twitty outlines how teosinte seed, the ancestor of the corn/maize varieties that we know in America today, was grown by hundreds of Indigenous groups to nourish the masses. Simultaneously, corn remained a staple across many African cultures, traveling with enslaved groups to the Americas where our ancestors recreated dishes reminiscent of the lands they once knew and blended them with Indigenous practices that form the roots of Southern cooking today. My dad’s hoecake bread comes from our enslaved ancestors who mixed white cornmeal, water, and occasionally a little salt, which often came in the form of ash, to form a dense pancake-like batter that was cooked on a hoe in an open fire. My mother’s cracklin’ bread could be considered a “wealthy” version of the hoecake bread, where small bits of meat available to our ancestors could be stretched by mixing it with cornmeal and preserving its nutrients to feed the endlessly working bodies who tended local crops. In reading Twitty’s book, I continue to be amazed at what our people were able to do with so little, and how much we have yet to discover about our contributions to Western culture.

My emerging journey as a food and drink writer is a search for uncovering more of these stories, of how our most beloved foods came to fill the spaces of our most beloved communities. Furthermore, I seek out the ways new food spaces are honoring the ways of our ancestors, springing us back to the memories of our childhoods, and, in my case, on the floors of my grandma’s kitchen.

This week, my search took me to check out The Ridley, an upscale, Black-owned restaurant in Charlottesville on Main Street that serves Southern cuisine. As expected, the Ridley featured a skillet cooked cornbread packed with sweet and savory bites, among them honey, whipped butter, cracked pepper and chives. And HONEY! You talk about good! As my friends and I enjoyed our meals, I was transported to my grandma’s kitchen as I savored every sweet and savory morsel…melded together perfectly with a good dollop of butter. Though the Ridley boasts a solidly southern menu featuring seafood, burgers, steaks and our favorite veggie sides, the cornbread was by far and above my favorite choice of the meal. What made the meal extra sweet was knowing that some of the proceeds from our meal were going towards the Ridley Scholarship Program, a merit-based scholarship program that recruits talented Black students to attend the University of Virginia. The program, along with the restaurant, is named in honor of Dr. Walter N. Ridley who earned a doctorate of education from the University of Virginia, becoming the first Black graduate of the University in 1953.

Thanks to The Ridley for transporting me back to my grandma’s kitchen, and for celebrating the legacies of our ancestors.

Tags african american culture, culture, eatery, food and drink, History, restaurant, review

National Headlines

Nikole Hannah-Jones teaches Chris Wallace about white people

Post author By Vinegar Hill Magazine
Post date April 27, 2022

March 15, 2022; Nickole Hannah-Jones talks with Mark Sanders during the Red Smith Lecture at the Leighton Concert Hall in the Debartolo Performing Arts Center. (Photo by Peter Ringenberg/University of Notre Dame)

OPINION: Either CNN host Chris Wallace doesn’t know history, or he thinks Nikole Hannah-Jones shouldn’t discuss how America’s ‘greatest generation’ fought against democracy for Black people.

Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.

One of the things that infuriates me about most Hollywood versions of Black history is how they cast crotchety, wrinkled white dudes as racists.

Think about it: Who were the men spitting on Black kids and yelling at protesters in the civil rights photos? (We’ve seen the pictures of the civil rights protests.) Who brought tiki torches in bulk to march at the “Unite the Right” rally in Charlottesville, Va.? Who donned a Viking helmet and smeared feces inside the U.S. Capitol?

According to Chicago Project on Security & Threats, 78 percent of right-wing extremists arrested between 2015 and 2020 and 63 percent of the people arrested for the Capitol Hill insurrection were under 45 years old. George Stauber was 24 when he drowned Eugene Williams and sparked the Chicago Race Massacre during the Red Summer of 1919. James Earl Ray was 39 when he killed Martin Luther King Jr. Two of the four men who bombed the 16th Street Baptist Church in 1963 were under 40. Alabama teenagers shot and killed 13-year-old Virgil Ware minutes later. Kyle Rittenhouse was 19 when he took a long gun to a protest in Kenosha, Wisc. The reason why they call themselves Proud Boys and Boogaloo Boys is that old white people have stuff to do and people to oppress!

Far be it from me to write about the mistreatment of white men, but the notion that old white people are the most virulent kind of white supremacists is problematic in many ways. It’s why every generation seems to believe that their generation of white kids will magically disinherit themselves from the white supremacy perpetrated by their forefathers. Apparently, young white kids aren’t racist. Everyone knows racists are old.

Ask Chris Wallace.

On Thursday, the water-carrier-for-white-supremacy-turned-CNN+ host challenged Nikole Hannah-Jones, who has an actual degree in history and African-American studies, on actual history, African-Americans and her factual claims that the young white freedom fighters known as “the greatest generation” were responsible for withholding democracy from Black Americans.

CHRIS WALLACE: Here’s where I take some objection. If you say the country that we were fighting for democracy overseas, and we were not living in, walking the walk, talking the talk at home, I completely agree with you. But you specifically say the greatest generation brutally suppress it, many of this generation, brutally suppressing democracy for millions of Americans.

To me, and I think Tom Brokaw when he originally wrote the book, The Greatest Generation, was talking about 20-year-olds, 30-year-olds who came out of the farm fields of the Midwest, who came out of ethnic neighborhoods in Brooklyn and South Philly and storm the beaches of Normandy and and, you know, fought to defeat the most, the worst regime, I would argue in world history. And to say that they were 20, 30 year olds, the country was brutally suppressing Blacks, but the greatest generation wasn’t.

NIKOLE HANNAH-JONES: Well, they were.

CHRIS WALLACE: No, they weren’t, you don’t be telling me that a farm, that a kid coming off a farm in Indiana or a kid who came from Brooklyn, is was suppressing Black people?

NIKOLE HANNAH-JONES: Indiana has the largest population of the Klan in the United States. The Klan was raised, was reached first in Indiana.

CHRIS WALLACE: I understand but that wasn’t the 20-year-old kid who —

NIKOLE HANNAH-JONES: You don’t think 20-year olds were in the Klan?

CHRIS WALLACE: I didn’t think many of them were, no.

NIKOLE HANNAH-JONES: I mean, I don’t know what evidence you have of that.

CHRIS WALLACE: Well, what evidence do you have that they were, since you wrote it.

Chris Wallace Goes At Nikole Hannah-Jones for Claim Greatest Generation ‘Violently Suppressed’ Black Voters in Heated CNN+ Exchange https://t.co/6q1RyKcwzi via @mediaite pic.twitter.com/X95MhXtt7e

— Tommy moderna-vaX-Topher (@tommyxtopher) April 7, 2022

Nikole Hannah-Jones is right. Chris Wallace is wrong.

According to the actual facts, the greatest generation was racist AF.

Historians estimate that in 1925, the “second wave” of the Ku Klux Klan boasted between 3 and eight million official members, which means somewhere between 5 and 10 percent of white American males were members of the KKK. And it wasn’t just a Southern thing. Ohio, Pennsylvania and Indiana all had more than a quarter of a million Klansmen as citizens of their states.

Donald Trump’s father, Fred Trump, was actually arrested at a New York Klan rally when he was 21 years old. The greatest generation gave us America’s first blockbuster movie—Birth of a Nation—which was adapted from the book written by Thomas Dixon Jr., the “great-granddaddy of American white nationalism.” The New Negro movement, which birthed the civil rights movement, was inspired, in part, by Black World War II veterans returning home to inequality, discrimination and racial terrorism at the hands of the “greatest generation.”

But Chris Wallace is just a man who says things on television, and Nikole Hannah-Jones is a woman who knows things.

She knows that the murder that sparked the movement for democracy that we call the “civil rights era” began when 21-year-old Carolyn Bryant sicced her 24-year-old husband on Emmett Till. She knows that Robert Edward Chambliss, the man convicted for killing four little girls in a Birmingham, Ala., church bombing in 1963, was a member of the greatest generation. She knows that the record for the longest filibuster in American history is held by a member of the greatest generation, Strom Thurmond, who fought every effort for civil rights and true democracy and was repeatedly elected by the greatest generation. She knows that greatest generation member Edgar Ray Killen killed three civil rights workers who were fighting for democracy during the Freedom Summer of 1964. She knows that George Wallace, who vowed “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, segregation forever,” was part of the greatest generation. Jones probably knows that the men who murdered Medgar Evers, beat Fred Shuttlesworth and broke John Lewis’ skull were also part of the same great white dopes defended by Chris Wallace.

Here’s what else Chris Wallace doesn’t know.

In 1913, John, a high school graduate nicknamed “Speed,” earned his first job at the Library of Congress, a few blocks away from the neighborhood of his youth. Speed displayed such a skill for organizing and cataloging the library’s massive amount of material that, by the time he earned his law degree in 1917, Speed had been tapped for a new position at the Bureau of Investigation’s War Emergency Division.

Speed’s boss was Woodrow Wilson, who had become president by radicalizing the American youth with a new form of populist, white nationalism. When Wilson held the first movie screening in the White House, he invited Speed’s frat brother Thomas Dixon Jr. because his book was the basis for the racist blockbuster Birth of a Nation, which Wilson screened at the White House. Meanwhile, Speed got a new job in the Justice Department’s “radical division,” where he would convict Marcus Josiah Garvey of mail fraud. Garvey was the first of many Black leaders who would be targeted by Speed over the next 50 years.

But over that time, all the names would change. The New Negro Movement began to use the phrase “civil rights.” The “radical division” became the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The Bureau’s director, Speed, was now called J. Edgar Hoover.

Instead of employing law enforcement agents, Hoover preferred to hire military veterans with experience in surveillance and counterintelligence. After World War II, the FBI agents came exclusively from the ranks of military veterans. According to the book Enemies: A History of the FBI, these young, dogged G-men formed the spine of the greatest generation of FBI agents because they targeted “enemies” like W.E.B. Du Bois, Martin Luther King Jr., Thurgood Marshall and the leader of every movement for freedom and justice for the next 50 years.

Too bad there isn’t a movie about this.

Chris Wallace could star in it.

Michael Harriot is a writer, cultural critic and championship-level Spades player. His book, Black AF History: The Unwhitewashed Story of America, will be released in 2022.

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The post Nikole Hannah-Jones teaches Chris Wallace about white people appeared first on TheGrio.

Source: Nikole Hannah-Jones teaches Chris Wallace about white people

Tags @AP, American History, Black History, Chris Wallace, civil rights movement, Featured, Greatest Generation, History, Media, nikole hannah jones, Opinion, Opinions

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