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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 K-0146, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Julia Peaks de-Heer spent her early childhood years in Stagville, North Carolina, before moving to Hopkins Street in Durham, North Carolina, during the early 1950s. Her father's new job at the Nello Teer Construction Company spurred the move, and de-Heer initially felt distraught over leaving the countryside. Nevertheless, she quickly felt at home in her neighborhood on Hopkins Street, largely because of the close-knit sense of community that developed among her neighbors. In addition to describing some of the activities, foodways, and the work of community leaders, de-Heer spends much of the interview discussing the role of the Greater Zion Wall Church, which was founded and built by the community members during her childhood. According to de-Heer, the community began to decline several years later when some of the homes were turned into boarding houses. The portrait she paints of Hopkins Street by the 1990s contrasts sharply with the neighborhood she knew in her childhood. After spending some time in Washington, D.C., and Virginia during the 1960s and 1970s, de-Heer returned to North Carolina in 1980 and began to attend the Greater Zion Wall Church again. de-Heer devotes the final third of the interview to a discussion of her continuing work with that church and her visions for its role in community improvement, focusing on the church's efforts to help disadvantaged children in the community and their growing efforts to bridge divisions between the African Americans in the neighborhood and the rapidly growing Latino population. Researchers should take note that this interview is divided into two parts, with the second part occurring three months after the first. As a result, there is some repetition and variation in de-Heer's recollections.
Julia Peaks de-Heer describes her childhood in both Stagville and Durham, North Carolina, focusing primarily on her experiences living on Hopkins Street during the 1950s. Throughout the interview, themes of community solidarity, decline, and improvement dominate, with an emphasis on de-Heer's activities with the Greater Zion Wall Church in later years.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
Today is the eighth of January, 1999. This is Jill Hemming. I am in the
home of Julia de-Heer and that is here in Durham, North Carolina, and we
are talking about the changes she has seen in her northeast central
Durham neighborhood where she grew up and about her life. So let's check
that. That looks pretty good.
Relax and enjoy it. There will be no TV audience here today. Just give me a little background on when and where you were born.
Okay. Let's start off with my name. Oh, you did. You gave my name already. Okay.
Where does your name come from?
de-Heer is Dutch. That's a Dutch name. I married someone. But my maiden name is Peaks. I met this young man from Ghana, and we were married in D.C. in 1987. This is where that de-Heer is from. I was born in Durham, North Carolina, at Duke Hospital June 15, 1946. I attended Merrick-Moore School. I also attended East End Elementary School. And the junior high school—I went to Whitted Junior High, and I also attended Hillside High in Durham.
Really.
Yes.
Hillside?
Hillside.
Okay.
Have you ever heard of it?
Uh-huh. Yes. Sure.
Yes. Hillside.
And your family. Tell me a little bit about them.
Yes. My parents, actually my parents J. C. and Mary Peaks—my mother's
maiden name was Hafkins—and she married my father. We lived in a place
when I was younger called Stagville. That is in the county of Durham. We
lived in a log cabin. And my father, around the 40s, I was very young,
but
What were the circumstances of the farming that your parents did around Stagville? Was that family owned land, or—
No, it was working with the people. Working for someone else as a tobacco hand or something like this. So when he got this other job it was more money, making more money and we would have other things. But I'm a child. I didn't understand this. I just knew it was nothing like it was at that time. But after they explained this to me, I said, "Oh, okay." You know, "You remember the little doll that you wanted, now we can get some of the things that you want." I said, "Okay, so this is better." I started looking at Hopkins Street a little closer then. I began to feel the people out and the children.
How old were you then?
I was eight years old when I moved.
And your parents bought the house? Or did they rent to own?
Rent to own the house. Yes. I just ran from one end of the street to the
other. Just ran. I'll never forget that. I guess, I don't know why. I
think it was to let people know that, hey, I'm here in this new place.
How many older people were there in the neighborhood at that time?
Oh, we had Mother White. We had Miss Holloway, Mr. and Mrs. Calhoun. One,
two, three, four, five, six—eight that I can remember. And the others
were married couples with children. And we got to meet, I got to meet
the children. It was—we became a family. You know, like a family. We
played together. It was nice and clean. Grass. And if one person didn't
have grass one of the neighbors would come over and say, "Well, here,
you can do this." Talk to my father and show him what to do to get grass
in our yard. In the back we had a garden, so part of the country did
dome with us.
For most of the people who were in that neighborhood, what do you think their background was before they came into that that neighborhood? Do you have any idea? First-time homeowners or people who came from—?
Well one, I know the McColloughs, they moved here from South Carolina. And they worked. She was a nurse. She worked with the elderly or something. She worked. And her husband worked. What did Mr. Roosevelt do, Mom? What was Mr. Roosevelt's profession, what did he do? Really, before we came?
You know what, a few families over there came up. They had the Farmer's Exchange then.
The Farmer's Exchange?
Yes. That's where they had chickens, they would clean chickens and prepare them for the market or whatever. And lots of people worked there. I remember my grandmother worked over there. My aunt worked at the Farmer's Exchange. So that was how quite a few people made their living, from working from Farmer's Exchange. They used to have to wear boots in some parts of it. But now, I'm not sure what that is now. They've closed it out. But it was in business for a long time. But some of the people on Hopkins Street moved up here to get the jobs here like at Farmer's Exchange for more money or whatever at that time.
Mr. Calhoun was in the war. He had been in the war. He showed me pictures. He was way back there in the war. I said, "What?" He was really in the war.
Did everyone tend to go to the same churches? Was the neighborhood centered around the church? How did that work.
Yes, it was centered around. Reverend Talbert—.
Talbert: T-A-L-B-E-R-T?
Uh-huh. He started the church.
Greater Zion.
The Greater Zion Wall Church. When he began it was just called Zion Wall.
Zion Wall. It was a duplex apartment. And he came over. He said the
people needed Christ. Something to hope for.
I sharp.
Yes, you are sharp. Okay.
You are really sharp.
Okay then. Excuse me. He's going to wear his tan boots.
So the families got together?
Yes, and went to church.
Raised the funds to build—
Once they bought the property where the duplex was on. And each family donated towards the building of the church. They bought a window or donated so we'd build the church, Zion Wall. Together. It was another part of the neighborhood where everyone came together to build. You know, like and helped. That was the unity that was there then. We really didn't have to worry. We could sleep outside if we wanted to. We definitely slept with the doors unlocked. There was no locking the doors. If I wanted a peach cobbler one of the mothers would say well, go pick the peaches. It was great. It was great.
What do you remember personally about your experience helping with the church, your part in that? How old were you?
Well, I used to walk in neighborhoods and they have
And it seemed like in, I guess, the late, the '80s or the—some things began to change. You know, like to turn around.
Could you speak to that change, do you think?
Well, different people were coming in and the older people were dying out. As they passed they brought new people in the neighborhood that weren't as eager to stick together or to be together or to help. And you could see the little changes. It seemed like a more selfish group of people began to move in. But we still, my family still stayed there. We were the last family that left the area, that moved from the area because it was, it just had, it seemed like there wasn't any more life. There wasn't any more life there. Which to me, moving was good for my mother. She needed to get away. But that area is a part of me. It is a part of us. Because that's where I did my growing up. That's where all the little scars and all the little bruises—that's where my healing came. My hurt, my cry, my healing. All of this came on Hopkins Street. So that's me. It is really me. That's why we're still at the church and we'll be there until—. I have faith and I know that God is going to move because he knows the love that we have for that area and that it's a part of us. And what he wants for us. So it grieves me now when I drive through, like Wednesday night or Sunday morning or Saturday, or anytime we go through there. And it seems like once where it was green, now there is a gray, like a shade of dull gray. From fresh to a smog, a smog. Now with the different atmosphere, the different people they are allowing to come into the neighborhood and just pile their trash up—you know—like so what? And this is very unfair. And it hurts me real bad to see this because I know the beauty there. I saw the beauty there. I was a part of that beauty. And now to see it like that, it hurts. It really does. Because, I say, "No. I'm not going out like that." I'm not going out like that because to take this neighborhood down is taking me down. Because that's my history. That's my roots. That's hurting all of mine. My baby was born at Duke and brought to that neighborhood. She's a part of it. So it's me. It's us. And it's not going to be like that. It's not.
We have last the church. And some church members we are coming out being seen now. Helping to clean. We had a cleaning. Walking through on Saturdays and cleaning the neighborhood. So we're putting some of this in action to let the people know this is ours. And we want it back. The way that it should be.
How many people are coming and being a part of that movement?
Okay. The church family.
Are they people that used to live in the neighborhood? People who have ties to the older group or, why are those people there? What is their connection?
The ones that are helping or the ones that live there.
The ones who are helping.
The ones, on our side, we're from the neighborhood. And we have a few that's coming from the neighborhood. But then we also have people that are interested because they have a house in that neighborhood and they want the neighborhood clean so they can get what they want in that neighborhood. We're aware of that, also. But God is going to get the glory of it all, irregardless. So everybody's interest in the neighborhood is not as pure as mine, is not as heartfelt as mine, because I am the neighborhood. I am a part of the neighborhood. They've just got a piece of something given to them and they want to be in the neighborhood, but I am the neighborhood. We are the neighborhood. We're the ones that's got the scars and the things to show for it. The neighborhood.
Did a lot of your family leave Stagville or wherever else they were and move to the area after you guys did it? Tell me about that.
Yes. I have my great aunt which is here now. She's—
Miss Sally?
Yes, Miss Sally Hafkins.
H-A-F-K-I-N-S?
Yes.
Okay.
She moved to the neighborhood and she's a soldier. She was a soldier. She
just walked through the neighborhood. She would clean your yard. She
would sweep the streets. The streets never were dirty. If any paper or
anything, or somebody's yard needed raking, she would just automatically
do it. She's a part of the neighborhood. My grandmother moved there. My
other aunt was in the neighborhood. So, you know, our family—it's like
our neighborhood, because all of my family was there.
Hafkins and Peaks mainly lived on Hopkins Street. What about the surrounding streets? What was the connection to the other?
Who lived on the other streets? We had relatives on Liberty Street, Taylor Street—Liberty, Taylor, Elm and Belk. We just had relatives and friends. My uncle—one of my uncles lived on Liberty; the Halls on Liberty; Danit, my brother, one of my brothers on Liberty. [Speaks to child: "No, Malique, go back. Go back there with Joshua. Thank you.]
So it was family, friends. We could walk from Hopkins Street to, what is it? Eva Street. There's Hopkins, Taylor, Hopkins, Liberty, Eva—the other little street down the hill, around the corner. It was a safe neighborhood.
Was that a gradual process, your family coming—?
Yes.
—perhaps in the 40s there was a big in-migration then of country folks into Durham?
Yes. [Speaks to child: No, no. Put it down. Put it down, now. Thank you.]
[Speaking to child: I know, that looks so fun. We'll put it where you won't have to worry about it.]
[Speaking to child: Go get your mike. Go in the back. All right.] Yes, it was gradual that family started to migrate to that area. They just came in and said, "Ah, this seems like a nice place to be." And as soon as the area was available, somebody moved there. They came in.
How old were the houses when you moved in? Do you have any idea?
Well, the houses wasn't really, really old, because I remember, there wasn't that much work needed. They were fairly new. Now they are old, old, old. They're rotting now and everything. But they weren't that old at the time that we moved in. I guess about ten, maybe ten years old, probably when we moved there. I don't know.
Do you have any idea who owned the property?
I know a Mr. Wrights—W-R-I-G-H-T—B.H.? H. B.? Wrights owned the property that we had. I remember Wrights. It's B. H. or H. B. Wrights at that time that owned that property.
So you think there were some African-American businessmen who had real estate, who owned properties through neighborhoods?
It probably—yes. A lot of them, like Mr. Moore had property at that time. Yes. A lot of African-Americans had property at the time and this encouraged a lot of people to move. This is what encouraged them. You know, families that want to be closer would come to the neighborhood.
So when a lot of the people got older and passed on, was it the problem that their children didn't want to come and live in that neighborhood any more so that it became a rental property? What happened with people's property ownership?
Well, I know two—Mother White didn't have any family—so she, like the city did with that. Two of the families, I know, three, as a matter of fact, that the siblings didn't want—one was living in New York, these families were living in New York and they were pretty well stable. They didn't want to move back here. And another family donated a house to the church. They didn't want to move back so they just donated the house to the church. We have the House of Hope. They donated it to us. And Mr. Calhoun, they had one son. He moved overseas because he was in the Army also. So he didn't want to move back to the neighborhood.
At that time Mrs. McCollough bought his house. And she just used that as a boarding house. That how the boarding houses, you know, like people started moving into because she started boarding. And other properties, if nobody moved in or—she bought another house next door and used as a boarding house. So, then, this is how people different started coming in also. Other people started to come in.
How did your family respond initially to these new neighbors who were in boarding houses?
You know, skeptical. At first it wasn't accepted. It was a question—where are they coming from? Are things going to be the same? What kinds of changes—and she assured that—it's going to be fine. The people and this and that and the other. So, trusting as we were at the time—okay, what can it hurt? We'll just would love, we would do this and that and maybe things would be all right. But after, I'd say about a few years, then we began to see that it was about the money. The people wasn't being screened as you say that they were. It was just economic—I want this, greed set in on that side. And it was something to have to see. You know, to have all of this going—and there's always one in the camp. It's always one in the camp and you try. You don't want it to be or you don't want to accept that its somebody in the camp that is going to sell you out. But it happened. It happened and it was behind money.
We still stood our ground then. And gradually some of the relatives of the people that were rooming started to come in and then we started to see little alcohol, little changes, like the drinking and the fighting and this is totally different than what it was. Where did all the love go all of a sudden? Things just started gradually turning over. Like changes, changes. But even though the changes came, it was like on the weekend people would just let go. They'd go out and drinking, and do their little thing. It wasn't to the point that people were—people yet held their jobs, and yet respected the neighborhood enough. It wasn't like an all day, every day thing. People didn't do that then because people believed in working and keeping like the yards and everything good. That's the way it was. That's just what I remember. So even with that change then, it wasn't as traumatic, as dramatic as it is today like with the people standing out there from the time, I guess, they get up until the time that you go to bed. Because sometime we might get out of church at 11:00, 11:30 and people are still standing. Just standing. Nothing can be good of that. Why are you just standing here? I know there is a place to work. They have twenty-four-hour places to work. It's something. With standing over top of trash.
Your family moved in what year? And was there a final straw that pushed you to do so?
Well, after everyone left and then—they wanted my mother to just leave
because she was the only one that you know—just move to another
neighborhood until—. She stood. She stood. She was determined that she
was not going to move because her roots—but after the girls and her
siblings and my father passed there. Had they passed, she would have let
it go easier then. After he passed—and she
So they moved in in about 1940?
Yes, say about '40, '42 something like that, '40.
Until 1991.
Um-hum. '89, '89 he died, December 15th, 1989.
So, just to go back a little a little further in your school history, what do you remember from your school days? Just a little bit, give me a little background.
Well, before we moved over here I went to Merrick-Moore. I remember going to Merrick-Moore, I remember May Day. We used to have May Day at Merrick-Moore and I used to love that. We dressed in our little white dresses. And my mother used to roll my hair in the Shirley Temple curls. She used to roll it up on a paper bag. She would tear a paper bag and roll my hair up. That's how we used to roll it. And just pull it out. And I had Shirley Temple curls. I loved that. And my little white dress and little Shirley Temple curls. And we would go outside May Day. They had this pole. You know, the ribbons hanging from it. And we would just go around the circle singing. You know, like May Day. May Day. I enjoyed that. And I loved school. I loved school. I loved it. And that's what I remember mostly about Merrick-Moore.
Is that M-E-R-R-I-T-T? Merritt-Moore?
Merrick. He's in Merrick-Moore now.
M-E-R-R-I-C-K?
Right.
Merrick-Moore.
Yes. And he's there now and its still on Cheek Road. I was telling—oh, I used to attend that school. That was something.
Is it the same?
It is the same area.
Have they rebuilt?
Yes. They've added on and rebuilt. Another generation in there. And when we moved over, when we moved to Hopkins Street I went to East End School. And that's in northern Durham on Dowd Street. I was eight because it was third grade—five, six, seven, eight.
I've got to do-do.
He has to go. [Speaking to child: Go to the bathroom. Joshua, please. Let me finish this up so we can go.]
It may take more than tonight. I think we've just started, don't you think?
Yes, yes. You probably have to come back again. When I have more time.
Okay, so we are at East End?
East End School. That's the next elementary school that I went to. I went there. I was in third grade when I came over to East End. And I remember every one of my teachers. I remember the things—my fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Griswell, Mrs. George, and Mr. Sauer. Mr. Sauer was my fifth grade teacher through. It was a man.
S-A-U …
S-A-U-E-R. Sauer. Yes. And Mrs. George. I went to her class. And she said, "Little girl, the first grade is not here," I was so tired. They said, "No, that's Julia—she's supposed to be here." She said, "What?" But I loved it. And another thing that I remember about school is that they wanted to fight. And I didn't know nothing. Children, they wanted to—and I cried. I just cried. I ran home crying. I said, "Do you know they want to fight?" I just want to go to school to learn. I said, "Oh, this is taking me to a whole different level." I didn't know I was supposed to do this. So my father said, "Yes, you've got to learn how to defend yourself, because if you don't they'll take advantage of you." So, it was something. But I loved, I really loved school. I wouldn't stay out. I would cry if I couldn't go to school.
So you loved to learn?
I loved to learn. Yes, I'm in school now. I love it. I am always interested in change and learning more and more and more.
So you went to junior high, which was?
Whitted. W-H-I-T-T-ED. It's now Head Start, where Head Start is over
on—what is the name of that street? It has been so long. I forgot the
name of the street. But it was Whitted Junior High. So I was there
seven, eight, nine. They had from grades seven through nine. I took
French there
That was very appropriate.
Yes.
Were any of your siblings, brothers and sisters in school with you?
Oh, yes.
Were they close in age?
Um-hum. There was Kenneth—Kenneth went to school. And William, well William went out to Merrick-Moore, but he didn't go. He didn't come up. But my cousins—Kenneth was the only one. He was below me, but I was just by myself except my cousins. You know, the other ones were younger. My siblings were younger.
And then maybe we can get to high school, and that's probably as far as we will get. We're actually right toward the end of this side so that's perfect.
Okay. Then there was Hillside. [Aside to child who sneezes: Bless you. Get some tissue, Joshua. Go get a roll of tissue. Just get a new roll of tissue and bring it, hurry.]
Let's stop right here because the tape just ended.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
All right. This is our part two. This has taken us how long, this is like three months later.
Yes.
Because now it's May the 14th. Is today the 14th?
The 15th.
It is May 15th. Wow. So here we are again.
A long time. Yes.
So you were just explaining to me that your family came from Stagville, which is now an historic site.
Yes.
And your family names are traced back a long time.
Yes. The Hafkins. My mother's side is the Hafkins and my father's Peaks.
But the Hafkins lived in Stagville. Well, both of them really lived in
Stagville, one on one side and the others on another side of
What do you know about your great grandmother, Julia?
Oh, the one that I'm named after? I knew that I loved her. I used to go,
she worked at the big house. We called it the big house, which is a
historical site now. She lived in a little cabin across the wall. It was
a wall like and across the wall was a little cabin that she lived. I
would go out there and stay with her during the summer. My mother said
that we lived out there for a while. But I remember going every summer.
I loved it out there because it was a pond in the back. But my great
grandmother worked up in the big house and I used to go up, a huge
kitchen. It was so large to me then because I was little. I said, "Oh,
this is a big place." That was the largest place I ever saw. She used to
give me little cookies or something that she had baked. And I played
with Elizabeth and Johnny, the family members that were there. I guest
they were great grands, or grands or something at that time also. And we
would leave and come back across the wall to our little bitty place. But
she had one bedroom. Well, there was two bedrooms. The way she had it
up, it was two bedrooms. She had two beds on this side and a little
hallway,
A hundred?
She was a hundred and, I believe she was a hundred and two when she passed. My ancestors, the oldest one was, I believe he was a hundred and twelve when he died. But they usually go up to the hundreds or the nineties, or something. They live a long time. And what is so amazing about it, and I believe that today, is because they worked. You know, when they came out with retirement, when they couldn't move, or couldn't work or wasn't busy, they just drifted away. But then they just worked and was used to working. She worked, and worked and worked. Until she just got, one day she was tired. She used to laugh and play with me. And I loved her. I loved her. We used to sit on the front porch. She had this great old big tree in her front yard. We used to sit out. She had a little rocking chair and they had a swing that they had made, my uncle had made, this wooden swing and the rocking chair. She used to sit in the rocker and I was on the swing. And she would just tell me stories about her brother and her father. And that was a good time in life. That was really a good time for me because I love the country, the outside. I loved it. And that's my desire to get back, take these boys back to the country. It seemed as though things—when we moved to the city, things began to change for me. The fast everything. You know, it changed. But when we first moved, the family knit. Everybody on the street was close. They looked out for each other's children and it was a unity there. You could just go downtown. You could just go anywhere. You could leave your door open. And it was really, really nice, like in peaceful and quiet.
That went on until I was, I guess I was what—I went to East End, Merrick-Moore when I was in Stagville out there. Okay, when we moved to town I went to East End Elementary School. Okay, and Whitted School that was my seventh grade there. That's where seventh grade started. That's when everything began to change, change over. Supposed to have been for the better. People began to gradually move out of the neighborhood and things began—other elements began to move in the neighborhood. And we as teenagers began to grow. And come up with our own little ideas of what we wanted to do and be. But I stayed home until I was eighteen. And I was going to school. I loved school. I really loved school. And we kept the unity there, like in our little neighborhood. We kept the place clean and we looked out for each other. It was really nice. But when it started to pull apart, you could feel it—the whole neighbor—you could really feel it. It was a caring neighborhood at that time, at one time. People cared about each other and what happened and "Can I help you," and this and that. But I began to see the change. The selfishness began to come in.
That was in the 1950s you are talking about.
Yes, yes. It started to come in. And I said, "Oh." And I saw alcohol came in. Well, it was probably there, around there all time, but I began to see people—maybe it was more respect at one time. People may have drank inside or it wasn't exposed to the children as much. But I began to see people walking the street like staggering, or something like that. I said, "Um, what's wrong with them?" I decided then, not knowing what I said—well, I know I'm going to be a nurse or a doctor. I want to help. You know, I thought they were sick. I said I want to do something to help.
What did you call your neighborhood growing up? Was there a name for your neighborhood?
No. It was just Hopkins Street. Like Hopkins Street, our neighborhood.
Did it include other streets around Hopkins Street?
Yes. From Holloway Street, Eva Street, Liberty Street, Hopkins Street and Teller Street. And, of course, Elm Street and Belt Street. You know, the two little streets that—
What do you
I believe it was, it had to be the older people going around and just looking out for one another. Mr. Calhoun, he would walk all the streets. The man would walk all the streets. And people respected him and everything was in order it seems. Seemed like he just kept things going. Because I know, if anybody was doing anything, you know, like fighting—anything. He would come up with something. That changed. And I am just really, what you said. Things are happening and you see it and you don't really think about it until it is mentioned. But, yes. Respect for the elders there. It was a respect. Everybody respected. He was a church goer. They were building the church. Church going, God fearing person. And people had a respect, great respect.
Who were some of the other people you remember being leaders?
Mr. Calhoun. Mr. McCollough. Mr. McCrae.
Is that M-C-C-R-A-E, you think?
Yes. And, who else was there? Of course, my father. My father and—Nesmith. And the Nesmith's. That's basically the ones that I remember.
How did they show leadership? What set them apart as leaders?
[Aside to child: Shush.]
You need to go play with the kids.
Go play.
Go play with the kids and close the door. Are you looking for a toy?
What are you looking for?
Get something you need. Your room got taken over.
Close the door. Their concern for, you know, the neighborhood, was
concern about the children and what was going on. Is everybody eating?
Did everybody have—make sure the rent was paid, because if somebody
wasn't able to pay their rent they used to have—sell sandwiches and sell
food—what they call rent parties, or something. But they were
determined—just made sure that as a knit that everything was taken care
of. And nothing that was—an element that could cause harm or something
wasn't in the neighborhood, or didn't stay in the neighborhood. As I
know, if they were drinking, when that came in before Mr. Calhoun died,
he would go first to talk to the family. I saw him go
What do you remember about businesses in the neighborhood? Where there any businesses right in the immediate area?
Yes. There was a store. There was one, two, three stores. Miss Dolly, Miss Stevenson—Mr. Stevenson, rather, had a store. Three stores on the corners. One on Elm Street where the little white house is now. When that moved, Mr. Stevenson got the little house on the corner and turned it into a store where he sold hot dogs and ice cream and sliced water melon. The store around the corner had vegetables. They used to get vegetables from the country.
So were these black owned businesses? Or were they white owned?
No, they were white owned. Actually, there weren't any black owned
businesses in the neighborhood. The only thing that the blacks did for
the rent parties, they did that. They sold. And Ms.
He was working for somebody else. You said that there was the Farmer's Exchange where people cut up chicken.
Yes.
You dad worked for Nello Teer on construction. Did he construct roads?
Yes.
Where else did people work, do you remember?
It is another factory.
Golden Belt?
Golden Belt. And Liggett and Myers. Was Liggett and Myers there then? Basically, it was just Golden—if you got a job at Liggett and Myers it was more money, or something. That was fairly new. My grandmother used to work, seems like all of them used to work at Farmer's Exchange. Golden Belt and Farmer's Exchange.
How close were those to your neighborhood. How did people get to work?
They used to walk. Walk down the railroad track. Do you know where Elizabeth Street is? Do you know anything about Durham? It is about as far as mileage or anything, I couldn't. I was looking in the book yesterday, in my phone book.
[Looking at map in phone book.] Here's your house. You are right here.
Okay. So Liggett and Myers is at the corner of Alston and—Elizabeth Street—it's a little bitty street running—let me turn that light on.
Let me do it. You're attached.
Yes. I look good. I said that. I usually open that window. That curtain.
Okay, Elizabeth. Is it near Holloway? Down further?
Yes. Let me see, Holloway, it's between Holloway and Gilbert? Is it Gilbert? No. Let me see. Holloway. What's that?
Drew Street. Then Hanover, Lyric, Rosetta, Neville. Here's Hopkins.
Hopkins is here.
Morning Glory.
Okay, so we're back. I'm trying to think of the name of the street. I can't see it down there.
I'm sorry. It is a bad map.
It is small. I had to use my magnifying glass last night because I was looking at—.
Here's the railroad. It runs all the way through here. So this is the railroad right here.
Okay, so it is on the—.
Here's Belt Street.
I believe that's Gilbert.
Here's Hyde Street. Hyde Park Avenue.
Okay. It has got to be in-between.
It is right in here somewhere. Right near Juniper and East End Park.
It is right at East End Park. Right across from East End Park as a matter of fact. So they used to walk from there. And, of course, Golden Belt is right down the street. The transportation was walking.
So people were able to work right in the neighborhood?
Yes. It was close enough.
You say that you viewed your dad as a real community leader. Tell me a little bit about his civic involvement. What kind of organizations was he a part of, or how did he—
Well, his involvement—my father, once we moved to the city. I call it the
city, from where we were living that was the country, the county. The
only thing that he would do was help them organize. If we were having a
rent party or something, he would help organize that. He was gone mostly
because his job took him out of town a lot. He was the one, if anything
got rowdy or anything at that time, he was the pipeline to the
authorities and everybody knew that. Because, he said, "Well, if this
happens, I'm going to call the police." But that is basically what he
did. If anybody needed to go anywhere—but as far as being
True country boys.
Yes, indeed. It was country from their heart. Catfish, yuk! They had so much rabbit. But food was there. Chicken, of course plenty of chicken because they were at the Farmer's Exchange.
Chicken, chicken, chicken.
Yes. We had stewed chicken, baked chicken, fried chicken, chicken,
chicken.
They did that right in Durham? This wasn't out in the country. This was right in their backyard?
Yes. Oh, they slaughtered the hogs in the country because we couldn't do
that, but in the town they made the soap. They had this great old big
black pot, and boil liquids. They made
So you still felt pretty connected to the country, even though your family moved to the city because there was enough family there that you went back and forth?
Right. And I would love the summer when school was out in the summer, because I could go back, and it is in my bones now. As I think about it now, because wherever I go, I travel a lot, and wherever I go I would think about the country. And to me it may be a way of getting—those were my peaceful times. And I reflect back on it and the peace. So this is probably—it was a peaceful time for me. It seems to me when I moved to the city everything just went, like the hay wall. It was there for a minute, everybody around. That's why I paid close attention to what everybody did. And it was good. Hopkins Street is our neighborhood. That's my neighborhood. But Stagville, that's my home. That's a difference. A neighborhood and a home. We grew up in that neighborhood and the atmosphere was pleasant. There was a sense of unity and people looking out for each other. And loving, and sharing, and caring.
You weren't afraid to lay and sleep. You weren't afraid to walk out on
your porch late at night. You could sleep on your porch. You weren't
afraid of that. And that was good. And through all of that, the country
still came up. I could just run from one end of the place to the—all
that greenery. It was just great. Great for me. And school, school. I
loved school. Didn't want to stay out of school for anything. Sometimes
I couldn't go if it rained, because I didn't have a proper rain coat. I
remember one time for sure. One time in particular, my mother said,
"Well, you can't go today because it is raining too hard and you don't
have a rain coat or galoshes." I said, "But I've got to go to school,
Mamma. If I don't go, I won't learn." I believe I got as far as from
here to maybe Kerr Drug. I was soaked all the way through my clothes,
through my underclothes. That's how hard it was raining. And I started
crying, and I turned around and came back. Mother said, "I should just
let you change clothes and go right back again." We pulled those clothes
off. But that's how much I loved school. I learned. To me school—I
remember when I was in elementary school, we were living on Hopkins
Street, so I would walk. Each school that I went to I walked the rail
road track., and one was going toward Dowd Street. The other was going
toward Herd Square, Whitted School, which is Operation Breakthrough now.
And then, Hillside, of course. But walking to school, going to school.
And I remember when children began to fight, they wanted to fight. That
was so strange. It didn't make sense to me. I ran home to tell my
mother. I said, "They're trying to fight at school!" And it just so
happened that my father was home that day. And my father, he said,
"Well, you've got to go back. You can't run home." I said, "But they are
fighting." I said, "Mamma, I thought school
So you have to be a new kid on the block. You get to make some real adjustments.
Yes.
Were you grateful to the people who helped you to fit in and find a place?
Yes. Our teachers and the friends that I had. Like a guy, this George, and Regina George, her daughters. I remember them. Miss Griswell. Mr. Sauer. All those really nice—we would talk. Miss Griswell taught me a lot about being a young lady and to sit up straight. She taught me how to sit up and how to walk right. That was my fifth grade, my sixth grade teacher. I was leaving there. Yes, she was my sixth grade teacher. Mr. Sauer was my fifth grade teacher. Miss Joyce was my fourth grade teacher.
How do you spell Sauer?
S-A-U-E-R.
So when you finished high school you were eighteen. You lived at home until you were eighteen. What happened then?
I got married. I wanted the—I thought I was in love. I had my daughter. I
got married and we moved to Washington, D.C. He had relatives there. I
wanted to, what I wanted to do was to go to school. I wanted to be a
doctor or nurse, but at that time I had my daughter, so that kind of
held up some plans that I had. We moved to Washington. I believe that I
was married for about two years. And my
What did you do there? A new job?
In Rockville? I worked at a hospital. I worked at Holy Cross. Holy Cross is in Silver Spring, where I end up moving because it was better for me. It was closer. And the busses at that time coming from Rockville to Silver Spring—transportation was really too far and in between, because if I missed the bus I was just out of it. So I ended up moving to Silver Spring. And I worked at Holy Cross. I worked at Holy Cross for about seven years. I decided to change again. Next was Virginia. I moved to Arlington, Virginia.
And your daughter is eleven, twelve, by now?
Yes, but she's home with my mother.
Had she been home all the time?
Yes, she's been stable. She went to me during the summer, but at that
time they said that I was too young and I hadn't really decided what I
was going to do. And they didn't feel that she should go through that.
No, she should be more stable. That hurt. That hurt because they're
saying that I don't know how to take care of my child. But the stability
was good, but my not being with her was even worse. Because she's
growing. That's happening now, she's growing—it took a while for her to
get over that part, and myself. Because even though I worked and I sent
money home, it wasn't like my being there. The years that I wasn't there
with her, I realized that it caused damage, even to the point that when
Malique and Joshua came into the picture, she resented them because that
closeness wasn't there with us. And I had no idea, being naïve. And my
parents, and grandparents, evidently, didn't explain to me, or should
have said to me, well, you need her with you. And then, maybe one place,
I would have just settled there. I never knew. Because it didn't happen.
But she was resentful of me. I would come in sometime and if I said
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
A major contribution to me, soothing me. I think about when we did move to the city, my sisters and brothers, I was responsible for them because my parents were working so I had to take care of them. And a lot of things we did together. But I had no idea of the impact it would be for a parent not being there totally until this experience happened to me. So now I'm really dedicated to working with children because, well, for one thing, it is because of what I went through with my daughter and because I know that somebody is going to go, or might go through what I went through, but I'm there to tell them what this has done and what it will do, and to help guide them in the right direction. Hopefully, I can do that. This is my prayer. This is why I work with children so intensely. We have a good time together. I love the good time. And now my daughter is working with me so we get a chance to talk, and we go on field trips and things, so our relationship is building more now. Oh, by the grace of God. Our plans—Hopkins Street? Back to Hopkins Street?
About the church?
I still go to that church. I'm a member of that church yet. I taught
Sunday School there when I was younger. It is a bond there. And I
remember my mother used to come home in the evening from work. She would
come in and change and sit then. She would play ball. The families would
play ball in the street and little games. And everybody would have
watermelons and whatever. "I got the watermelon, what do you have?" You
know, like on the street and it was great. It was a good atmosphere for
growing up. Going to church, when I cam back to North Carolina, I moved
back to North Carolina in '80. My father passed in '89, '89, yes. So I
moved back then. When I went to Hopkins Street I cried, I totally cried.
Because the house that we lived in is boarded up. Houses are boarded up.
They have elements out there that, if it was in Durham, or if it was, it
was never in the neighborhood so strongly. And such young children out
there. A difference needs to be made. Our voice needs to be heard
because this is a church here. We can make a difference, and we are
going to do that. We are cleaning up the neighborhood. The houses have
been cleaned out and we've gone up and cleaned the streets and
everything. So what our next plan, the next move is to get donations so
we can build a little park across the street. Actually, the children
need somewhere that they can go. Someone that is going to help, like
say, "Hey, we can do this. A
So you're actually going to try to buy a house? Or you already have a house?
We have a house on Hopkins Street.
You can make into kind of a children's center?
Yes.
Would it be a day care kind of thing? Or would it just be a support kind of center?
A family support. Younger children, the day care we have them up to five, up to four. Because at five they start kindergarten. After school programs for the children and the parents. Some parents are working. We can take care of the children at the school up until eleven o'clock at night. And parents support. We get the parents to come in and we have meetings with the parents to express what, maybe ask them questions, "What do you think we could do to help Johnny in this area? What do you think we can do to stop so and so on the streets?" Opening questions with the parents and try to get some feedback and then we will know what our next move will be. But this strongly what we are discussing now.
What is the name of the organization? Is it a community of churches that are coming together for this?
Zion Wall and Gospel Crusade outreach, and Reverend Gilcrest. The church on the corner, the three churches in the area.
What is the church on the corner?
Oh boy. This is awful. What is the name of his church? This is embarrassing. We were just at the church the other night. We had service there.
Is this idea kind of social activism? Is that a new thing for your church to get involved this way? Is that something you remember in the past, or is this a new thing?
Really, you know what? When we were younger and the church, the minister
there, if we didn't see anybody, he would visit. Find out what was going
on, if anything was wrong, what could be done. So, actually, it was way
back, but it seemed like it was put to bed.
For too many years.
For too many years, which is why probably a lot of the elements are there. But we seem to give up on our people too quick. Or the drive wasn't there any more. You need someone with the drive and the initiative to say, well, "I know this can be done. I've seen it done, and I'm a witness that it can be done. So, let's go. Let's do it." A leader.
Who are the people emerging as leaders? Is it people that you grew up with in the neighborhood, or is it newcomers?
The people from the neighborhood that grew up there. My sister is pastor of Greater Zion Wall now, so she is coming in on it. My brother is the pastor of Outreach, and Reverend Gilcrest, he has been in the area for years, years. It is the neighborhood. We had—some interest was there from Terry Allebaugh and from, what is that—coalition for housing. They were interested. They came in to help, to get the attention on the area to get it cleaned up. But as far as just getting in and doing something about it, it is the people that grew up there that want to see the change. And not just see it, but willing to do something about it. And this just, I believe it has been on people's minds, but nobody has really decided to do anything about it until we started going to some meetings and looking at it and saying, "Hey, we cannot just sit here in the church and continue to allow the elements to be going on around here." Because when we were younger, when church—everybody respected everybody. But it is no respect. It is no respect for the children. It is no respect for themselves. It is no respect for the elders. All of this is gone. So someone has to do something.
What do you think pushed people over the edge here?
In which way?
To take action. What do you think was the final—
They were just fed up with it. When I came by, drove up one morning going to church and I saw these little young children out there, I said, "Okay, that's it. That's just too much." We have go to do something. We just can't keep riding by and going in there and singing hallelujah and everything is all right. And it is not all right. Our little children are dying out there on the corner. Our children are lost. So the parents need to be informed and need to know that there is help if they want it for their sins. Shooting was there. People were shot. So this really go them afraid. They were afraid a bullet might come flying through the church or something, and innocent bystanders getting shot. So this is what made people decide, yes, we are going to do something. Yes, we do need to do something. Let's get busy.
Now tell me about the changes in the neighborhood as a large number of Latinos have moved in.
Oh boy. Oh. Well, it seems that whatever, all the trash. All the
anything—they bring in, bring it in. Old wrecked cars. Old trash sitting
out in the front of the yard. Broken bottles. I don't care. This is not
mine. I'm just here visiting and I don't care what happened. It is
really awful. It is really awful. There has to be a limit of how far,
how much a neighborhood is supposed to accept, regardless of where. You
want to be a good neighbor and love one another, and that's true. But
they have to respect the neighborhood. It has to start here. Just
because this one throws something on the ground doesn't mean that you
have to do it. Say, "Hey, could you pick that up, please? Because we are
trying to keep this neighborhood together." You don't have to just trash
everything and just throw it and feel that it is all right, it's okay.
And that's very unfair to the neighborhood. It's very
unfair for them to be able to come and do this and get away with just
piling—all of this brings mice, whatever, all kinds of junk. I don't
think it is fair to the neighborhood because a lot of the trash that we
had to get rid of raking, and bagging up is from there. They should be
made to do this themselves. You put it here, you should clean it up.
Tell me the about the children.
All the children running up and down the street. It's a tear-jerker. It's really sad because the children are running around with no clothes, no shoes or anything. The church, we have soup kitchen once a week and a clothes drive, a clothes giveaway to try to help some of the parents with the children, to feed. And I'm not sure whether they are going to school, and if they are, how they are looking. It is just too much over there.
Do you have a fair amount of Latino kids who come over for your clothes drives and soup kitchen?
Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Yes. We don't have any trouble with the food, saving any food, because we let them know and they come and get their food and little bags of clothes. Some of them have gotten boxes of shoes and clothes or bikes or whatever for the children. It's not just limited to the neighborhood, to help every one, but in turn everyone should help us try to keep the neighborhood together also.
How are interactions between people in the church when the Latinos come in?
Well, actually, people pretty much accept them. Pretty much so. As well as they know how, I guess. I believe they accept them pretty good, some of them. If you weigh it, I really don't know which way the scale would tip. But I believe that's everywhere, because when people are not ready to accept change, they are going to think they way that they want to think or they feel at that time. Even going to church they do have their little ways or thoughts. If they wasn't here I've heard that. But that don't stop, you're supposed to love your sisters and brothers. Like everybody is supposed to love one another. So we have to think about that, especially being part of the church. You just can't say I love mine and not love yours. What is that showing. God is love. He loves everybody.
Now the neighborhood had declined before they ever moved in?
Yes. Yes.
They just moved into that was already—
—that was already, yes.
Everybody has got to, if it's going to work out, everybody still has got to live there together. How do you think things can improve, or what do you think needs to happen?
You know what, actually I believe, and I will stand on this, if they see people doing things to bring the neighborhood up, I actually believe that they will contribute also. It is just not, like I'm just doing this. Yes, I believe that everybody would come together. It would be a unity there. Because they see. Well, I'll help. Yes. I believe once we get started, full blast. Yes, there would be unity. And who knows, they'll probably go to one of the churches.
Do you think that, really, that they are such newcomers, many of them have even had the opportunity to be part of the neighborhood association, or be part of a congregation that is working to clean things up? None of them have really—
No, no. The only time really, when we had that march in September. They came down and we had an interpreter. They were there. So, yes. You're right, bringing that in front. Because no one has really tried to relate. So they are just going with the flow of what is happening on Hopkins Street, really, at this time. This would be the first time except last fall. And it was a tremendous turnout, not just from Hopkins Street, but a tremendous turnout of different cultures.
How do you think that happened? How did that come to be there was such good involvement?
Well, good organization.
Who were the other folks involved to bring people out?
We had Larissa Sibel, Terry Allebaugh. Larissa got some flyers. And we distributed flyers concerning it. And we she had an interpreter, someone who made sure that it was known that someone would be there to interpret. This is why the turnout, because it was advertised. And, of course, Barbara was going up and down the street to let them know, come to our march. Good organization.
Let's keep talking about the adult leaders that you remember in your neighborhood growing up. How can the neighborhood run well? Do you think your church could be a part of the process of educating the Latino newcomers on how to be part of the civic pride and community?
You know what, really, yes. I'm not sure everyone. We had two members
that spoke Spanish. The only thing we would need someone to interpret.
I'm sure one went out. Well, they have their own ministry now. But I'm
sure, if we get the right resources and show ourselves friendly, that a
When are we going to go?
[Aside to child: go back, I'll let you know. Go back and close the door.]
I want something to eat.
Go back and close the door.
I want something to eat.
We're almost done, sweetie. We'll finish up here pretty quick.
[Crying.]
I'm amazed we haven't heard
So, yes.
So with your involvement in the community, what do you feel best about? What do you feel most proud of in the things you have contributed since you've come home?
Being a part of the prison ministry is good. And being back in church. I go to the prison. I have two places. Cornell is my baby and Guess Road. I go—
[Crying.] When can I come out.
What were talking about?
You were talking about the prison ministry.
Oh, yes. Speaking to the inmates. And I also, I speak to the young
people. I talk to them concerning drugs and everything. And how do they
feel about drugs, and what do they think that drugs are doing to their
bodies? So I counsel the young. But my baby is going to the prison
camps. But what is going to be even better is the neighborhood coming
together. This project that we are working on now for
Do you think you would seek out a bilingual program when you serve the Latinos?
Yes, bilingual. Because this is what I have at the Center. One of the teachers at Burton has, she is very interested, and she said she speaks Spanish. She said anything she can do to contribute, she said call me. I'll speak. So we have volunteers. It's just getting our house together now.
What about those kids? They can't go home to grandma's in the summer. They are so far away. So far from all they've known.
Yes. And to place that right there, that has to be appreciated. I'm sure it will be appreciated. We just need to get the funds together and get this house opened. I was thinking about the rent parties we used to have. Now we can have little sellings. Our children are very creative. Let them do some things. We can raise funds that way to help. And that will be great for the children to know that they are being a part of it. I've noticed how children, they're more resourceful that a lot of adults. They like to give. Once you say, "Okay, we're going to do this, we're going to help. Make something pretty for us." They really get excited.
Do you like to be a part of that?
Yes, yes.
Thanks, Julia. Any last things you want to throw in here?
No. I'm really glad that you took the time and waited for this, because
it felt good going back over, speaking of our neighborhood. And, as I
was talking, fresh ideas came to mind of things that I could do. I
thought about some of the things that were done years ago that were put
to bed too soon—need to pull the cover off and get busy, because we can
do it. We can do it. I know that we can. And the suggestions that you
made about the, if we would initiate friendliness and be a part. Say,
"Hey, we're doing this. Would you like to join us?" That's great. That's
even more enlightening. So, that's about it.
Maybe all of your experiences have led to this point. Now you can come back to the neighborhood that nurtured you, that helped you to find a place, that helped you to grow up. Now you're coming back with your education and your knowledge from your life experiences and from school, and you can take all of that. Now you've get to give back.
Yes. That's the fun part. Yes. Hallelujah!
END OF INTERVIEW