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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview
H-0235-2, in the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of
North Carolina at Chapel Hill”
Josephine Turner was born in Durham, North Carolina, in 1927. At an early age, she experienced the sacrifices forced upon the poor, exemplified in her mother, who sought to impress upon Turner the value of education though she herself never made it past the third grade. She succeeded, but Turner followed in her mother's footsteps when her father died, leaving school and inheriting her father's job as a chauffeur at age fourteen. Turner's ambition placed her in unique positions: a black female chauffeur, a businesswoman, a political aspirant. However, her willingness to experiment with different jobs, her devout religious faith, and her determination to succeed earned her more respect than wealth. In this interview she reflects on the fruits of her ambition, her background, her children, her working life, and her hopes for the future. This interview is more of a personal portrait than a window into labor, but it will be useful for researchers interested in life and work in North Carolina.
Durham, North Carolina, resident Josephine Turner reflects on her struggle to leave behind a life of poverty.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
Now Mrs. Turner, can you tell me when and where you were born?
I was born in Durham, North Carolina, 906 Glendale Avenue.
And what year were you born?
1927.
OK. Did you know your grandparents? Were they around when you were born?
Yes. I had a great-grandfather that lived to be 112; I knew him. And I had a grandmother. I knew her, my one grandmother, and my grandfather.
You said it was your great-grandfather who lived to be 112.
Right, my mother's grandfather.
Now how about your mother's mother and father?
No, they had died before that.
And how about your father's mother and father?
Well, my father's mother, I knew her. She died in '42, and I was about thirteen, I think, when she died.
What would she do? Did she live with you?
No, she worked in a factory. She had her own house, you know. I lived with my mother and father. She worked at Liggett-Myers factory. But I was at her house every day, because we just lived a block apart.
Oh, right. So you saw a lot of her?
Oh yes. She was my favorite person.
Really? Why was that?
Well, one thing … as I say, she was hard on us, you know. I couldn't see it then, but now I realize what she was doing. One thing, she'd buy us fifteen cents' worth of candy a week. And I thought that was great, because at that time fifteen cents' worth of candy was a whole lot of candy. And we looked forward to Fridays, you know, and getting that bag of candy.
Did she give bags of candy to all the children?
No, just to grandchildren. One thing, she made us stay in church. We was raised in church; you know, we had Sunday School, morning service, BYTU and night service.
BYTU?
BYTU: Baptist Youth Training Union or something like that; I forget now
what it is.
So she was the person who really kept you going to church rather than your parents?
No. My mother was a great influence in my life. But I was just saying my grandmother, you know, she was just… Everybody says I'm just like her; I don't know. That's where I took my aggressiveness from.
Why do they say you're like her? I mean, in what way?
Because of my aggressiveness. My mother was a quiet person. My grandmother, when she believed in something she fought for it, you know; she spoke out for it. That's the way I am.
Can you remember any specific things that she did speak out for?
Well, they wouldn't be important, no more than that she was always for the underdog. She didn't allow anybody to … you know, like somebody like a bully would try to take advantage of a smaller person. She would always be there.
I was just wondering if she had been involved in any workers' things?
No, nothing but just working in the factory, and in the church. She had
her favorite seat in the church, and she would ask people to get up out
of it.
That was her seat in church. And when she passed they put a wreath on that seat, you know.
So how long did she live, then? When did she die?
She died in '42, April in '42.
So you were about fifteen when she died?
Thirteen when she died.
I see, OK. That's interesting. And you say you lived with your parents then. What did your parents do?
My father was a cement finisher, and my mother just worked at home. She had a rooming house. I've been working since I was about eight years old; that's when I started cooking, because she had a rooming house. And when Camp Butner was being built, you know… And she done a lot of washing and ironing. That's why I don't iron today; I had to iron all the time when I was small.
Oh, well wait a second now. She actually kept people in the house, roomers who were working on Camp Butner? Was that it?
Yes. When Camp Butner was being built and even before Camp Butner was being built she had a rooming house, and then washing and ironing.
For outside people or for the people in the house?
Yes, for the outside people.
So you'd have to help with the washing and ironing?
Yes. The day would begin at three o'clock in the morning and end at night. So I don't iron at all now. I won't even pick up an iron.
She would be out washing at three o'clock in the morning.
Washing and ironing. And you said you also had to do a lot of cooking when you were young?
Yes.
Was that for the boarders mainly?
Boarders, right.
When did you start cooking? You said about eight?
Well, we started breakfast about 6:30, because they had to be at work sometimes at seven or eight. Then we had to fix their lunches, you know. In those days a balogna sandwich was, well, met with… You know, people don't eat them now like they did then. Then we had to cook supper when I wasn't in school. And when I'd come from school we'd have to work with the people, and then iron at night. So, I mean, I come up on the rough side of the mountain, you know. I hear young people now say they're tired; they don't even know what working is.
They don't know what it's like, do they? So it sounds like your Mom worked pretty hard too?
Oh, she did. She worked all her life 'til she got sick. She had a stroke and it put her down. She was sick for six years. She just died in 1970, my mother did.
Who took care of her after she had her stroke? Did you take care of her?
Yes, I kept her right here at home until she had her last stroke New Year's Day in 1970. She went into a coma that night; she stayed in a coma for three months. So I had no alternative but to put her in the hospital, and in the last month they put her in a home. I would have kept her at home, but they said it would cost me sixty dollars a day for nursing around the clock, and I didn't have that kind of money.
So you did a lot of work as a child, then, it sounds like. Did you have any brothers and sisters?
I have one whole brother. My mother raised a lot of foster children.
You mean like from Social Services or something like that, or just kids from the neighborhood?
Some of the kids got put out of home and my mother took them in. I had several several young ladies that could have been my sisters and brothers, but there's not but two of us whole. I have one half-brother; by my father's first wife he had one son. But by my mother there's not but two of us whole. But I do have three adopted sisters. The ones my mother raised, well they called her mother and they called me sister, but they are just as close as sisters.
Why did your mother take in the children?
Well, my mother was always for the underdog. You know, anybody
Well, were these [foster sisters] some kids who were children of friends or relatives, or just kids?
Yes, they was friends. You know, some of them girls'd have babies young and didn't want them, or something of this nature.
So she'd take in the baby? Oh.
Yes, she'd take them in as babies and raised them. She had one that she took in when she was about fifteen; her father put her out, and my mother took her and raised her from there. She lives in Virginia now.
I mean, but the other two were younger when she took them in?
Yes, they were babies when my mother took them. And she raised them. One lives in New York, and one lives out here on the Apex highway.
So how old were you when she started taking in some of your foster sisters?
Well, one of them is four years older than I am.
She took her in before you were ever born?
Yes. She took her in when she was three weeks old. And this other one she took in when she was about three years old. She took her in about '41, when I was grown. This other one, she took her in when I was young; I can't remember the year.
Did they help along with you with all the cooking and the washing?
Oh yes, yes, when they was at home. All of us had to.
You had a real gang there working.
Oh yes.
Did you get along well?
Oh yes, yes. Well, as kids we all fought teeth and tongue, and fall out sometimes. We'd fight like the rest of them, you know, but we always stayed close. We never had a fight where we couldn't make it up. And we didn't speak maybe a day or two; we'd get together before the week was up. In fact, our mother and grandmother had a policy: if she couldn't stop us from fighting she'd put us outdoors and make us fight. And she said that the first one that cried, that's the one that got the whupping. And when we got through she'd make us kiss and make up, irregardless of how.
Wait a second. The first one who cried would be the one who got a whupping? To teach you to be tough, eh?
Right, yes, because she wanted us to stop fighting. And we would keep nitpicking, you know, and hitting. So she said, "OK, if you've got to fight, come on." She'd make us get outdoors in the backyard, and she'd make us fight. And she said, "Now the first one that cries, that's the one that gets the whupping." So naturally we wouldn't cry; you know, the water would be running, but we wouldn't cry out.
Oh, sometimes it was a toss-up.
That's amazing. But overall, though, you got along pretty well?
Oh yes, oh yes. We never had any controversy.
Did you have any other relatives who lived with you?
No, just my mother and father. My father died when we was young, when I
was twelve, and so my mother raised us mostly by herself. And she taught
us to work. Recently I've had all my grandchildren here.
I'm going to remodel as soon as I get all of them out of the
house.
You say your father died when you were twelve. What was it like when he was still alive? Did your mother and father get along OK?
Beautiful … well, as people did in those days. He thought he was the boss of the house; she let him think that.
But my mother was the strong one. My father was the old-time believer;
he didn't spare the rod and spoil the child. But he let my
mother raise us, mostly. But, I mean, when he spoke we knew it.
Why types of things was he the boss over?
Well, he was the one when he was working… Now my father was disabled too in his last years of life, and he was paralyzed. So that's why we had to work so hard. But, you know, we'd mind him, no more than he'd say he was the boss of the house. But you know how men are; they say they're the boss, but the woman runs the house. So he wasn't boss of nothing much.
But when he did say something you'd mind him?
Oh, we would mind him, yes; we always had respect for him—not
like kids today. Kids don't have respect for their parents.
But right today at my age I respect people older than I am;
that's the way I was brought up. Even if I don't
agree with them I won't argue with them; I'll walk
away from them, unless I'm debating on some issue that I feel
like I'm right. Then I'll stand there and talk to
them 'til I tire.
So you say that he was disabled in the later years of his life. Was he around the house more then?
Yes. But he worked some part-time. He drove for the Lipscombs, and gathered and collected rent with them. And when he died I took over and drove for them until I got married.
Wait a second. You drove for who, for Lipscomb?
Mrs. W. Lipscomb; that's what they was then. I helped them collect rent 'til I got married in '40. See, I married when I was fifteen.
OK, now you're getting ahead of me. Did you say it was Mrs. W. Lipscomb?
It was Mr. and Mrs.
And what was that? Was it a company?
No, they just owned houses. He used to be with Lipscomb and Gaddy; there was a store here named Lipscomb and Gaddy. I don't know what happened. Before I even started driving for him he was out of that. But he owned a lot of houses here in Durham, and I used to collect rent with them and for them.
When you say driving for them, you mean…
Chauffeured.
Oh, you'd chauffeur for them. Chauffering them around when they were collecting the rents and stuff like that.
Yes, chauffeur around and collect the rent, and then a lot of times go out to Virginia and different places.
Was that unusual, for them to have a woman chauffeur?
Right, especially a black woman at that time. I was the first, you might say.
The only person you knew of.
Yes. My father fell dead in their backyard. We lived just in hollering distance; they lived on up there and we lived down. Well, our house and their house just had a fence that separated them. And my father went up there to go to work one morning, and they was eating breakfast and he fell off the porch with a hemorrhage and passed in their backyard. So they started me driving them when I was about fourteen.
Did they have such things as driver's licenses then?
Yes. But at that time they didn't know that I drove around
about six years without a driver's licence, because I was a
good driver and they'd never… It wasn't
like it is now. And when I did go to get my driver's licence
Mr. Dunlap was living then, and he said, "You've
been driving all these years without a licence?" I said,
"Yes." He said, "Well…"
All I done was drove around the block; then he gave me my licence,
'cause he knew I had been all out of town and everywhere. I
started driving at fourteen, and I got my licence when I was about
eighteen or something like that.
So you drove all that time without a licence and you never got caught at all?
I never even got a ticket; I've never had a wreck. The onliest
ticket I ever got is where I parked—you know, go in a store
and stay too long. But I never got a speeding ticket, and
I've never had a wreck. And every mark on my car, somebody
else has put it on there.
You never had any problems.
Right.
Before then you had mainly done work at home?
Yes, I just stayed home, and whatever she'd give me to do. If
she'd give me a dollar a week that would be… Kids
wouldn't work now. I know some of them wouldn't do
it for twenty dollars a day, let alone…
So she couldn't always give you a dollar a week?
No, no.
It Just depended on how much money there was?
Because there wasn't any such thing as welfare or social security then; you know, you didn't have them that far back. And I'm glad in a way, because it taught me to work. I've been working all my life.
Well that's sort of interesting, though: you said that you were the first black woman chauffeur around.
In Durham that I know of.
How did they feel about hiring you? Was there any problem with the Lipscombs? Did they want to hire you?
No, no. They knew me, and they knew my family, and we stayed
They were right next door to you, you said? Farther up the hill?
Farther up the hill. We lived in the same neighborhood and all. They knew
me, and they knew I was honest. Everybody said I was honest and
I'd never had any trouble. And they would send me to the bank
every Monday with the money—Tuesdays, rather,
'cause we had to collect rent on Mondays. And they knew I was
raised up to be honest. I don't take anything that
don't belong to me, and I try to teach that to my children. I
said, "If you want it, ask for it; don't take
it."
OK. I think one thing we've skipped over or you haven't mentioned anything about it is your schooling. Were you going to school all the time?
Yes. I went to school, East End School; then I went to Hillside School.
Hillside? I taught at Hillside.
Yes, well that's my school.
Did East End go all the way up through eighth grade?
No, it went to sixth grade.
And then you started Hillside in seventh grade?
Right.
And did you finish at Hillside?
No, I quit school in the ninth grade, 'cause I got married when I was fifteen. I'm (what would you say?) self-taught; I've done a lot of reading. Well, I've just read everything.
Well, as long as you can read you can certainly teach yourself.
The important thing is to know how to read in the first place, I think.
Right. Gregory, can't read his handwriting. We had to learn to read. I can't write either, as far
as that's concerned, but I'm talking about
reading. You know, the old folks made us; that was a must. There wasn't any such thing as television, as you
may know,
Did your mother emphasize that?
Yes, and my grandmother especially. But we would come in from school. Our
first thing we had to do, we had to make a fire. There was no such thing
as electric stoves and all; we had to make fires, put the sweet potatoes
on (you know, that was a little ritual with us) to bake. And if there
was leftovers we'd put them on to heat. Then we'd
start the dinner and the older folks would finish it when they got home.
Well, we had to carry in wood, bring in the coal, do our other little
chores that we didn't do. Well, the beds was made before we
left home; that was a must. And we had to wash dishes if we
didn't get them done that morning. Then after dinner
homework, and wash dishes first; that was the ritual. Then we had to get
our homework; then we could play. There
wasn't such things as jack rocks; we had rocks we used to
play jack rocks with. And if there were peanuts we played jack in the
bush.
Jack in the bush? What was that?
This was all after you had done your homework, though?
Oh yes, the homework was first. Well, on Sundays there wasn't any such thing as the movies; they didn't admire us to go to movies on Sundays.
Why was that? Because it was Sunday?
Their religious beliefs on Sundays, you know. After we would come from church, eat dinner and wash our dishes we could go and ride bicycles, skate and play on the ground, rolling, things of this nature. But no movies. Then we were back in church at five o'clock or six o'clock, whatever it would be, for BYTU and night service.
You'd go to church twice on Sundays?
Oh yes, that was a must: Sunday school, morning service, that BYTU and the night service.
Were you active in the organizations in the church when you were young?
Yes, scouting, and all the things. In those days they didn't have as much as they have now, but whatever they had (the little choir or whatever) we were there in it. This was a must.
Was your family sort of a mainstay in the church?
Yes, my grandmother especially. And my poor mother, she worked so hard she didn't go to church like my grandmother did. She went, but she worked so hard. But we was raised that you done it. She always taught us the right and the wrong, and she saw that we went. It was a must that we went.
It was important that you go and that you get your homework done,
Oh yes.
How about your mother's schooling? Had she had much schooling?
No, my mother didn't have any. I think she didn't get past the third grade, because she was raised on a farm and she didn't pass that.
But she still thought it was important?
She was the oldest of seventeen, so she couldn't do too much. She had to help raise them, I think.
But it's interesting that she thought it was that important for you all, then.
Yes, it was a must.
How did she feel when you dropped out of school?
Well, she was very disappointed. But I knew that it was a strain on her, you know. And I was one of those little hard-headed young people like they are today. I wanted to marry a soldier, so I had to get married, you know. So I just quit school—and mostly to work, to help her because I knew she was having a hard time. There wasn't need of my staying there putting a strain on her. Right now I'd put my education with some of the college graduates I know; I would. I maybe don't have the diploma; but the wisdom and knowledge that God give me, I would be willing to stand with them, as I do do now.
From teaching highschoolers, I would say you're right.
They're not interested in it, you know. But, see, it was a
must with us. Now I have a twelve year old, and I don't have
to pressure
She
She loves school.
OK. Now going back to your first job, your chauffeur job, what did you do with the money you made from that?
Gave it to my mother.
The whole thing?
Yes.
Did she give any back to you?
Yes, she'd give me a little bit of it back. It didn't take much for me in those days, because we didn't have the things that the kids have now. If we went to the show I think it was ten or fifteen cents; and maybe a dance every once in a while when they'd let us go, it was about a dollar and ten cents.
Your grandmother didn't disapprove of your going to the movies or dances or anything?
Well, we didn't go when Grandma was living, too much.
Oh really? She didn't like that type of stuff?
No.
Do you remember any particular things that your Grandma got angry at you about?
Nothing, if we didn't mind. You know how kids
sometimes… We used to tease my grandmother; she said she
couldn't hear. And she'd be reading and
we'd call her; she wouldn't answer. But if
we'd get talking
How did she feel when you dropped out of school?
She was dead when I dropped out; she died.
Right, you said she died in '42 or something.
Right. My father died in '41; she died in '42, nine months apart.
And you married in…
'43.
A lot of things happening around that time.
Yes. My husband, he went overseas and I drove and stayed right at home with my mother 'til he came back in '45.
Wait. Did you ever move out of the house right after you got married?
No, no, I stayed right at home with Momma. See, because we wasn't married but a month when he went overseas.
So did he live in your house with you for the first month?
For the first month, and then he went overseas. And I didn't see him 'til '45.
How did your Mom feel about your getting married?
Well, she was disappointed, but she accepted it. She accepted it, you know.
Did she know the guy that you married?
No. She met him when I did; we all met at the same time. We met in '42, at Christmastime. She met him when I did. He went home on his leave, and he came back and we got married. It was sort of a short-term courtship: I met him in December and married him in March.
And then you stayed together for a month before he went overseas for three years?
Yes. We were married in March and he left in April, and I didn't see him anymore 'til '45. He came back one month before Roosevelt died. And I went with him to Seattle, Washington; that's where we went. And then we separated. I came back home—by being young, you know—but I went back to him. And that's when the children was born. I stayed with him 'til he died in 1960. And I sent for my mother, and she came out and lived with me. And we came back home in '61. And that's when I started buying this house, in '61.
She had come here, then, to be with you?
No, she came to Seattle and lived with me. See, I was in Seattle, Washington.
Oh, I didn't realize that. When did you move to Seattle?
Well, I went out there in '45 with my husband. I left him and came back home, but then I went back to him. And my mother came out there around about '57; anyway, she stayed with me 'til my husband died. And we didn't have any people out there. So she wanted to come back home, so I brought her back home. So we've been here ever since.
I see. And how many children did you have with your husband?
I have four children in all.
How old are they now?
My daughter was born in '52. That would make her what? Twenty-four?
If you can remember the years they were born.
My daughter was born in '52.
Is that the oldest?
Yes. And I have a son that was born in '54, and I have another
son born in '56. He's in Germany now. And I have a
baby that was born after
OK, so that's not his child, that's your child.
No.
So you had three children by him, right?
Yes.
You say you left him once. Sounds like you have been a pretty strong or independent woman for a long time. Did you get along with him?
Yes, it's called women's lib. I've been
that a long time. I don't know, I've just never
been able to… I can take criticism, and I can take people
telling me what to do. But I can't stand people demanding, or
telling me what I better do. I have a saying:
there's not but two things I'd better do, and I
can't help that, is stay black and die. Those two things I
can't help. But now you ask me to do
something…
Is that your own saying?
Yes, that's my saying. You know, I've heard it
somewhere, but… They come along and say, "You better
do something." I say, "Now wait a minute; back up. You
ask me to do it, but don't tell me what
I'd better do. There's two things I'd
better do, and that's stay black and die. I can't
help those two things. But anything else, you can ask
Did you and your husband get along on that issue all right?
Well, I'll tell you: after I grew older… When I was younger, by being raised around a lot of boys in the community I had to learn to fight. I'll never forget one time I got in a fight, and a boy tore my clothes off of me. And my father was definite about clothes, because in those times, you know, clothes was hard to come by. And my father gave me a good whupping and said, "If you ever come in this house with your clothes torn off or anybody hits you and you don't take up for yourself you'll get another one." And I remember that whupping, you know, because in those days there weren't such things like now when they put you in jail for whupping a child. We got whuppings then. And from then on if one hit me, if he climbed a tree I was in that three behind him. If he went under the house I was under the house behind him; you know, this is the thing it was. So it was kind of hard for me to accept him telling me what to do, and I always… But after I grew older and my mother told me the things that was expected of a woman that was married, then I tried to make myself a little bit … what would you say…
More conventional?
Yes; you know, kind of give in and things like that. So I accepted that; as I say, let him think he was the boss of the house and things of this nature until he passed. He died very young, at thirty-six, of a heart attack. I went to work, and came back and found him dead in the bed.
Was that hard for you to do? I mean, it sounds like your Mom saw that you
were maybe a little too strong to be in a conventional-type
Yes. My mother was a great influence in my life. My mother was a quiet
individual, but she was strong in her way. She taught
me a lot, because I was always wanting to… As I say, I fought
a lot. And I'd say, "Well, if there's
something I don't want to do, I'm not going to do
it. You can't make me do it." But she just told me
the things that were expected of me. A lot of people don't
know it, but I was an alcoholic for seven years. I took to drink
Was that out in Seattle that you were an alcoholic?
No, this was after I left my husband. This is the thing that hit me. You know, I had been taking little nips…
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
Well, after I found my husband was dead in the bed, this was hard to
accept and I started drinking. I just went off the deep
end——I don't know whether Stephanie
even knows this——for about four years; but I had
been drinking, I'd say about seven years. But then God came
into my life in '64 when my last baby was born. And I had a
Caesarean and then … they never told me it was a cancer
operation, but I always will believe that that was what was happening to
me. I had this severe hemorrhage, and I wasn't weighing a
hundred pounds when they put me in the hospital. The doctors had gave me
up. And I made a vow to God on my death bed that if he would let me live
I would serve him and I would be more humble—and which I
tried to be. So he did: he raised me up off that bed in '64.
And from that day to this one I've tried to live the best I
know how for God and tried to help my fellow man, because I come up on
the rough side. Now I know what it is to be poor; I know what it is to
have the lights
But I don't forget, as I say, from whence I came and the
people around me. This is what hurts me, when the people uptown will sit
behind their desks and try to run the lives of the people out here, when
they don't know what's happening out here.
They're not out here; they've never seen the
starvation or the sick. They've never went in the hospital
and seen these things, and I know they haven't. And this is
why I ran, to try to help somebody. I said, "I may never win
it," but I'm always there trying to help somebody,
because there's nothing I've got. Everything
I've got belongs to God and he's just lent it to
me for a little while. This is the way I look at these things. Even my
children: I'd accept it if one of them would die or get
killed tomorrow. I've accepted this, because my mother used
to tell me, "God loans children so there's just a
little sunshine loaned to you for a little while. And don't
love nothing better than you do God." And I try not to love
nothing. I don't put anything in front of God: I put it this
a'way. So this is why it kind of gets on
You don't think there's anybody right now in city government that really knows what's happening with these people then?
I won't say one or two may not know. But I'm
talking about the majority of them don't, no; no, they
don't know what's happening out here,
'cause we have to bring them out and show them the stuff. I
mean, you saw my picture in the paper the other day protesting the
condition down there? And this is what irks you, these houses that
they've got the people living in that's not fit
for dogs to live in. And they won't do anything. We have some
old people—the reason I don't push it as hard as I
do 'cause I'm a housing inspector, they put the
old folks out of there and they've got nobody to go to. Some
of them can't afford to pay the thirty dollars a month, the
thirty-seven dollars a month. And if you force them, then
they're going to tear them down and fix them up for the
people to live in. And we have a lot of old people over here.
It's heartbreaking. If you could just walk in and see the
conditions. If I had the money—and maybe that's
why I don't have anything—I'd like to
put some kind of a … not a high-rise (that I'm
afraid of), but say something like they've got on High Park,
maybe two units to a house. But
Sort of like
And I just see the need, but I don't have the money and I
don't have the
Now you really are ahead of me!
I'm sorry.
No, no, it's great. I'm really interested in what you have to say, and I was going to ask you about all that anyway. It's just that there's a bunch of steps sort of inbetween that I'd like to deal with.
Yes, go right ahead.
A couple of just factual questions. After your husband left to go abroad you were still working as a chauffeur. You kept that job for how long, four or five years?
Yes, I kept it 'til '54.
Til '54? So you'd been at that for eleven years?
That's when I went back to Seattle. Yes, from '46. Well, I went out there and came back. It was a broken series of it, you know, not straight out. But I was with them a long time.
Until '54, and that's when…
I went back to Seattle.
I see.
But I had been and come back.
So except for helping your mother with the boarders and everything, that was the only job you had in Durham until you came back again after your husband died, right?
Right. When I came back I worked a few weeks out in a Holiday Inn, the one on Hillsborough Road.
Right. Then what did you do?
Then my mother had her stroke, and I stayed at home with her.
Was that when you were drinking then?
No, I had quit drinking then. I quit drinking in '63.
'63. So were you carrying a job at the same you were drinking?
Yes, I always worked.
What were you doing then?
Well, when I was chauffeuring I was drinking, but I wasn't a heavy drinker.
Right. But you said after your husband died you started drinking more heavily. What job did you have at that point?
Well I didn't have one when I first came back. I didn't have any job any time I was drinking heavily, to tell you the truth. I was just living on my checks I got.
Right, right. So you worked some at the Holiday Inn, and then your mom had a stroke, you said. Then what happened?
Then I stayed at home for a while. Then I took over, I leased Turner Dairy Bar. And I couldn't get any help, so then I sold out to the Chicken Box.
You started a dairy bar?
Yes.
Did you actually buy it?
No, I just leased it, you know, and I was just a boss lady,
How did you decide to do that? That was a pretty ambitious…
Well, it was just something out there that I thought was needed in the
neighborhood. I was the first black woman to start that, you know.
When did you start that? What year was it that you tried to start the dairy bar?
Oh boy, it must have been about '69 or a little bit earlier, about '68, 'cause my mother died in '70. She was sick, but I was still up there. I was close enough to be at home, you know, and somebody was here with her at all times. I would bathe her, feed her, then I'd come back home and give her medicine. My cousin sent her that TV from New York. That was hers, and now I'll give it to my little girl. She'd look at the stories; she was a great soap opera fan. So I was always close enough to be right at home, and I kept her here at home.
How long did you make a go of the dairy bar?
Well, I stayed in about four years, and I sold out to them because I couldn't get any help and it was too much of a strain. You know, I had to do it all day and all night sometimes, plus tending my mother.
When did you go and sell out? About '72?
About '71 or '72, because my mother died in '70. Then I went over and started working with—it's Broadway Supermarket now, but it was Giant Food Store. I went over there and stayed a couple of years with them.
Broadway Supermarket?
Yes. It was Giant Food then, but it's Broadway now. So they was having a lot of problems over there. But when this guy, the Chicken Box, closed down for some reason, then Dunham took over. And he asked me would I come and be assistant manager, since I knew the ropes and everything.
This was the place where you had actually had your dairy bar?
Yes.
And that's where you are now?
Yes.
I see.
So I went over there to show them the ropes, and I just help out and work at nights. But I'm getting ready to quit that, because I'm tired and I've been working all my life. And I'm just trying to hold on to my vacation. I think I'm going to resign after my vacation.
Will you be able to make it without working, or will you have to find something else?
Well, the Lord be blessed, my house is paid for, and we don't
eat that much
Oh, that will help.
And my boy now, he sends me change. And my other boy is around, so I'm pretty sure I'll make it. Because I'm just tired, I'm telling you.
This will be the first real stretch in your life when you haven't worked, then, except for the time you were taking care of your mother.
Right, right. I've worked all my life, and I've
never sat
What types of things would you like to do?
Well, there's a lot of sick people out here, old people
that's alone. I'd like to visit them, you know,
and see what I can do to help them—such as go with them to
help pay their bills and things. This morning I was in the bank, and
they wouldn't even cash this old lady's check
because she didn't have nothing but a Social Security card or
something. And I know her; and I said, "Give me the
check," and I signed the check and they cashed it for me. You
know, there's just so much of it to be done, a lot of little
children out here that need to be started on the road to Sunday school
or something. It looks like they're teaching them everything
but what needs to be taught. We have a lot of parents that need a lot of
teaching, because you can't just tell a child what to do.
You've got to show him. There's just a lot of it
that I have ambition to do. I don't say whether
I'll do it or not, but I mean I will be trying. Then all
these things that I'm associated with here, and
there's a lot of prisoners. They had a mother this morning
that wants me to see what I can do; I'm the chairman of the
Human Relations out there at Guess Road prison, and a lot of prisoners
need… You know, there's so much that needs to be
done. And the job is really holding me back. A lot of time I need to be
at those night meetings. Now I got a call from a woman who wanted me to
drive her to the theater tomorrow night, so I'm going to have
to ask for an hour off. And there are so many meetings day and night
that I need to be at. So I'm sure God will give me a piece of
When did you start buying this home again? It was after your husband died?
In '61, yes.
As soon as you came back here?
Yes.
And that was right before your Mom had the stroke? Was that right?
Yes.
So you had to keep up the payments on that the whole time that your mom was sick?
Yes.
And you did OK?
Yes, the Lord has blessed me. I finished paying for it last year, so now
all I have to do is pay taxes on it.
Did anybody help you during that time, or you did it yourself?
I've had to work all my life.
Right, right. Your fourth child, who was the father of that child?
Oh, a friend of mine.
I mean, is he still a good friend? Is he around here still?
Yes, he's a friend of mine.
So that he didn't help at all?
Oh yes, he helped good.
With food and stuff, but I mean, he didn't actually help pay for the house?
Oh no, no. All this, I've done it all by myself. I mean, he's contributed, you know; he's a very great asset, a great help. As far as marrying again, I'll never marry no more.
You won't marry any more?
No.
How come?
I'm too set in my ways, you know. So it wouldn't be fair to me to ask anybody or anybody ask me to marry them, 'cause I've done it so much in my younger days I couldn't tie myself down to cooking three meals a day—although I cook on the job, you know. I'm not a houseperson now; I've done it too much.
Did you do it for your first husband?
Yes, yes I did.
Did you mind?
Well, I minded but I done it, you know. I just can't, can't, can't do it no more. I don't know what I'll have to allow to do before I die. I don't like to feel what I want to; but I'll put it that I don't want to do it. I'll put it that a'way.
Right, right. Were there any things that you and your first husband, any particular things that you'd have conflicts over all the time? Any issues you didn't get along on?
My husband, he was a heavy drinker, and this was one of the ask you for it, and
if you offered OK; but now for me to beg you for
it…
Well, when you were married to him and you were out in Seattle were you working during that time?
Yes.
What were you doing?
I worked at the Boeing Aircraft.
In the factory?
Janitorial work, yes. You know how they have offices? Cleaning up offices and things of this nature.
Oh, right. So did you give your salary to your husband, or did you keep it?
No, Ma'am, I did not, no.
You kept it for yourself?
Well no, I didn't keep it for myself. It went to pay bills,
And you'd contribute part of your salary towards the bills and he'd contribute part of his?
Yes, that's the way it worked. And what we had left, I would buy the children clothes and things of this nature. There weren't that much left; you know, everything is high out there. No, for me to give anybody my… No, he didn't even know what I made, lessen he'd snoop sometime, you know.
Right, right. Were you in any clubs or organizations out in Seattle?
No, not too many, because the kids were small. And when you've
got small children, you know, lessen you've got a…
No, I didn't know the people out there. In fact, people in
places like that are not as friendly as they are in a place like this,
you know. You live right next door to folks and don't even
know their names.
No one would really help with your kids at all?
No, not 'til my mother came out there, 'cause his mother was one that would not babysit. She said, "No, you had them, you raise them." So this was the thing. So when I was working I had to pay a babysitter. Well see, out there I was always on