I was born the fourteenth child of my mother, Rosie McSwain Carter Solomon, and the seventh child of my father, Lewis Solomon. I was born at 5:35 a.m. on December 12, 1922 in Cook County Hospital in Chicago, Illinois. So they told me, it was a cold, snowy winter day when I discovered America. I believe it was cold that day and maybe that's why I don't mind the cold weather. I know I feel better physically in cold weather. I feel like a limp dishrag in the summer time. Shucks, if I could take off my skin and dance around in my bones in the "Good Old Summer Time", I'd still be hot. My nose is continually wet with perspiration in hot weather and my hair crinkles up on my head. People have said to me in hot weather, "Did you cut your hair?" In cold weather they say, "Oh, your hair is growing." There was one tiny disadvantage to being born in December. That was the fact that it was too close to Christmas and I very seldom if ever got two presents in the month of December. Even so, I'm glad I was born in cold weather. At the time of my birth, my family was living at 1910 South State Street in Chicago, Illinois. There was a small Hardware Store on the ground floor of that building. Warshawsky's Hardware has come a long way since "Way back then." It's a large, modern store now that covers at least one fourth of a block. My father was a laborer at the StockYards in those days and my mother was a housewife. My mom tried working in a laundry once, but it was too much for her to be on her feet all day in the laundry and then come home and cook and care for us kids. My mom was an excellent cook too. Our meals were always tasty. I still think about the sweet rolls, the neckbones baked with sweet potatoes and those cookies with cracked wheat in them.

In order from oldest to youngest, my six siblings were two brothers; Sampson the oldest and Austin the youngest, and four sisters; Annie, Winnie, Thelma, and Almeta. One of my mother's sons from her previous marriage also lived with us. His name was Emmit. He was the only one of the seven children from my mom's previous marriage that I ever knew. Emmit was a kind, caring, thoughtful young man. He worked so hard trying to help my mom and us kids. He worked in a Rug Cleaning Establishment. He was still just a young man when he became ill and died. I was about six or seven years old when it happened. He was hospitalized in Cook County hospital when he expired. There was a heavy, sad, atmosphere in our home when Emmit passed. We were so heavy hearted and grief stricken at losing him. My mom told us that too much dust had settled on his lungs and that's why he got sick and died. I found out at a much later date that my mom had one stillborn child in her previous marriage, three other children expired, her husband also passed away, and her other two children remained in the South when my mom remarried and came to Chicago. Since my father left the family when I was two years old, I was raised in a single parent home. I can't recall ever knowing or even hearing anything about the relatives on my father's side of the family, so I know absolutely nothing about them.

Click here to see Cyrilla's family tree w/ pictures of her grandchildren

At different times during my pre-school years I fell ill with three contagious diseases, namely, chicken pox, mumps, and measles. Also, having been born with a severe case of rickets, I was hospitalized in Cook County Hospital to have my legs broken and straightened. I was a rather quiet child. I didn't talk too much. I had often heard my mom say, "Keep your eyes and ears open and your mouth shut. You might learn something." Well, I became a good listener. I liked being the youngest child in the family. My oldest brother Sam was like a father to me in spite of his young years. He dropped out of high school to work and help my mom with us kids. To a very young child, a teenager seems old and my big brother was acting like a man about the house. He never spanked any of us. He never had to. He spoke with such authority and was determined to see to it that we kids respected and obeyed our mother. My two oldest sisters, Annie and Winnie, always called me their baby sister. I liked that. My sister Thelma would let my sister Almeta and me trail along with her and her friends sometimes in the evenings. My brother Austin would play War, Pitty Pat and other kiddie card games with Almeta and me sometimes. Almeta and I would sometimes spend a weekend with my mom's brother Uncle Peter and his wife Aunt Lottie. They had two daughters, Almeter and Elizabeth. They were a little older than we were, but that didn't matter. They knew how to play all the games we liked and we had a lot of fun every time we were there. Sometimes Almeta and I would spend some weekends with our maternal grandmother Elizabeth McSwain who lived with her grandson Paul and his wife Pricilla. They also had two daughters, Mary and Grace. We had lots of fun times with them too. These were just some of the pleasant, good times in my young life that helped to off-set the hard times everyone was having during that "Great Depression Era."

I entered Kindergarten at about age five and I had attended several different schools by the time I reached the third grade. My family was always moving. Many times we were being evicted from an apartment because the Landlord raised the rent and the Welfare refused to pay it. It took time to find another apartment, especially since it couldn't cost any more than what we were paying before the rent was raised, and also because a lot of Landlords wouldn't rent to families with a lot of children. If there were any laws prohibiting discriminating against children back then, they certainly were not being enforced. My sister Almeta and I hated to stand outside and watch our household belongings while my mom was either looking for a place to move or had found one and was at the Welfare trying to get the rent money to pay for it. We used to go across the street and down the block a little ways to watch our things. We didn't want the people passing by staring at us standing there in that humble situation. In spite of the fact that everybody was poor and needy during that "Great Depression Era", nobody ever bothered our things. We had a kinder, gentler nation back then and there were no homeless people begging in the streets like now. Nobody wanted our stuff anyway; they looked like piles of junk the way the bailiffs had stacked them up on the sidewalk.

We always lived in coal-heated apartments because the Welfare would not pay for a steam-heated one. It always made me, a naive young child, wonder why the Welfare chose to purchase a ton of coal each month to heat a coal-heated apartment costing twenty dollars a month when a steam heated apartment was only twenty five dollars a month. I guess they had some stupid guidelines to follow. Anyway, if an apartment was steam heated, kids would not have to trudge up and down three flights of stairs in the dead of winter lugging bucket after bucket of coal until the ton of coal was all off of the ground and all in the coal bin on the back porch. Kids would not have to roll out of bed in the dead of winter shivering and shaking as they readied themselves for school while waiting for the heat waves from the kitchen stove to meet and mingle with the heat waves coming from the heater in the front room. Kids would not have to kick and squirm between icy-cold bed sheets at bedtime until vigorous activity and our ninety-eight and six tenths degree temperature created enough of a thermal condition sufficient to allow the cessation of activity and the onset of slumber. This was a necessary discomfort since the fire, of necessity, had to go out in the kitchen as soon as the last meal had been prepared. This very readily reduced the temperature in the whole apartment, so much so, that the family would retire to the front room and close the door to keep all the heat in that one room. That way we were all warm and comfortable until bedtime. Both fires had to go out and be started again the next morning because that ton of coal had to last the whole month. Now, this naive child was not mature enough to be as thankful as she should have been for the new welfare clothes and shoes we were given because when venturing outdoors in them, it was soon discovered that every kid on the block whose family was on Welfare looked just like you. Clothes were always made from the same pattern and cut from the same bolt of cloth. The shoes were always black and we ungrateful kids used to call them "Old Lady Comfort" shoes.

There are three incidents that happened during my elementary school days that I still recall and can smile about now. One of them happened on a certain day when I got out of school knowing full well that I was to go straight home. Instead I told myself that I would get just one ride on the sliding board, one ride on the merry-go-round, one ride on the swing, one ride on the maypole, and just one ride on the fireladder and then I would run all the way home. Of course, you have to wait your turn on all of these rides and before I got a ride on half of them, I saw my mother standing at the school yard gate looking for me. Well, I got fussed and hollered at all the way home, which was about eight good blocks with a few twists and turns. Since everybody knows everybody in the whole darn neighborhood, every kid and grown-up that was outside on that nice summer day saw and heard me getting fussed and hollered at in the street all the way home. The kids were saying "Ooooh! You gonna get it" and I know what the grown-ups were thinking. Well, I didn't get a whipping when I got home, but, I would much rather have gotten a whipping than to have been shamed and disgraced (so I thought) in the street all the way home. The next day in school, I couldn't convince nobody, I mean nobody, that I did not get a whipping.

Another incident I sometimes reminisce about from time to time was when an eighth grade monitor, Maybelle Jones, assigned to help keep students orderly on their way up the stairs to their classrooms stopped me, searched all my pockets, and took my two cent bag of day old chocolates away from me. She did this for spite because when I was sharing my candy with my friends in the schoolyard before the school bell rang, she asked for some and I didn't give her any. I was so hurt because money and candy was so hard to come by in those days. I cried all the way to my classroom. When my teacher, Mrs. Lovett, found out from the other students what had happened, since I was too choked up to talk, she went to the assistant principal to find out what happened to my candy. Of course, Maybelle lied and said she threw it away. The third incident that crosses my mind sometimes was the day my sister Almeta and I were talked into playing hooky from school by Marie Elaina. She had skipped school many times before, but this time she wanted some company. It so happened that another one of our school mates named Willie McJunkins, who also often played hooky from schools was skipping school that day too. He saw us and made it his business to tell our mother that we didn't go to school that day. We thought, how dare he have the nerve to tell on us when he was committing the same offense and he did it all the time. There was no point in telling his folks that he didn't go to school that day because he did it whenever he felt like it and his folks didn't seem to care. Well, my mother beat the stuffing out of us and sent us to bed without any supper. Now, my sister and I made a vow. We said that we were going to get even with Willie McJunkins if it was the last thing we did in this life. We were so mad, we repeated our vow over and over that night. Of course, we never did get even. We were afraid of Willie McJunkins. We didn't know what he might do to us if we messed with him. He was a big, bad, burley, bully and all the kids were afraid of him. So, we never got even and I never forgot it.

Marie Elaina was a little older than my sister Almeta and I, and she had a bossy controlling personality. She liked being in charge. In spite of her young years, she was a clever thief. In those days, before the supermarked, the grocer did the foot work around the store to pick up whatever items you ordered. Marie Elaina would go inside some of the small stores in the neighborhood, observe whether or not there was any change on top of the closed cashregister drawer. Often grocers would throw small change on the protruding cashregister drawer, and put it in the drawer later. If Marie Elaina could see any money there, she would ask for something at the far end of the store and the away from the cash register. While the grocers back was to her, she would quietly rake the loose change off of the cash register drawer into her hand, and either just leave the store, or yell to the grocer, "never mind" and leave. She always had money too. She used to ask my mother if she could pay for and take my sister Almeta to the movies. I suppose because I was younger than them, they didn't want me tagging along, so she would not take me. I naturally felt lonely and slighted being left behind.

One sunny afternoon, on the way home after school was out, Marie Elaina called to me to "wait up". I suppose I felt honored that she chose to walk with me because most of the time she acted like I was beneath her. I'll never forget that day. There was a fresh fragrent breeze in the air. It had ceased to rain, the sun was out again, and we could smell the scent of freshly cut grasss in the air, as we passed some newly mowed lawns on the way home. The sun was shining, the sky was blue, God was in his heaven and all was right with the world until Marie Elaina abruptly interrupted our jolly little conversation when she stopped in front of a small corner store and announced that she was going to teach me how to steal. My heart seemed to drop down into my stomach and I was scared and shaken, but I felt that if I wanted Marie Elaina to like me I better do what she said. As we stood there before the open door of the store, we could see the bushel baskets of apples, oranges, onions, and potatoes, rowed up in front of the counter. Marie Elaina told me to go into the store and ask the man for a pound of pork chops or something else from the meat counter at the far end of the store. While he's walking to the meat counter, you can get some oranges for us and put them in your pocket. Then tell the grocer never mind, you don't think you have enough money and leave the store. Well, we went in the store and I asked the grocer for a pound of hamburger. He started towards the meat counter and I, forgetting the big hole in the lining of my pocket, started putting oranges in my pocket. Although those oranges were falling out through the hole in the lining of my pocket, I couldn't stop. My arm kept bending and my hand kept picking up oranges and putting them in my pocket. Those oranges were dropping and rolling all over the floor and I was frozen in time stealing oranges. The store man had to yell and shake me to break the spell I was in. After he made sure there were no more oranges in my pocket, he told us to get out and stay out of his store. You'd better believe that I was happy to comply with that order. I never ever even walked on the same side of the street that his store was on after that. I also decided that I didn't like Marie Elaina and I didn't even want her to like me. I didn't need a friend that would get me in that kind of trouble. The next day in school, the store man's daughter who was also in my class raised her hand and told the teacher that I had tried to steal oranges from her father's store. Then my teacher, bless her heart, said, "Cyrilla is such a nice little girl, I just can't imagine her doing anything like that." And she never mentioned it again. I suppose she thought the poor little child must have been hungry and needed something to eat. I'm sure that experience ended my crime carreer. I've never wanted to take anything that didn't belong to me again. At that time my family lived on 29th and Cottage Grove. When my family lived on twenty-ninth and Cottage Grove, there were lots of kids and fun to be had on that block. Anna Mae Simms was the leader of the pack. She was always the first one to suggest what we should do, where we should go, and what we would do when we got there. She always had good ideas to put forth and she was a quick thinker too. At that time, I was about eight or nine years old. I was always a good listener and a follower, so I had no problem with that. We had big fun playing House, Tag, Jax, Little Sally Walker, One Two Three Oleary, Hop Scotch, Hide and seek, and all the other Kiddie games that children play. Sometimes Emma Jenkins would beat Anna Mae making a suggestion as to what we would play first and sometimes we would disagree with both of them. Ever so often even I would burst forth with a plan of action, but those times were far and in between. Either way, we always had a lot of fun. My family lived in a huge apartment building that covered at least a fourth of a block. It was four stories high, had front and back entrances with a long hallway on the ground floor that you could run from the front of the building all the way to the back yard. We lived on the third floor. Since our backyard was so huge, all the kids came in our yard to play. The men even played baseball out there in the evenings. I can still hear Big Jake yelling, "Put it right in here. Oh kid, Oh kid." When they were playing catch. When their ballgames ended you could hear male voices singing, "Hold that tiger ñ Don't let that tiger go."

I think my family lived there on twenty ninth and Cottage Grove for four or five years before we moved to thirty second and Wabash, across the street from the Urban League. As my friends and I grew a little older, we played games like Baseball, Stump the Leader, Card Games, Flip the Ice Wagon, Tell Ghost Stories and Going Junking. To go Junking, a bunch of us would each get a big bag. We'd wander up one alley and down the next, looking for paper, rags, and pop bottles that you could collect deposit on. Then, when the Junkman came down our alley, we would take our combined paper and rags to him. He would weigh them and give us a little money that we could divide amongst ourselves. Other remembrances of twenty-ninth and Cottage Grove are Michael Reese Hospital down the street, around the corner and over on the next block. It wasn't nearly as big as it is now. Then there was that lovely Sweet Shop on the south east corner of the block with luscious candies and beautiful flowers that people could purchase and take to the hospital, Mr. Burgess had a "Mom and Pop" grocery store in the middle of the block, and Mr. Dave had a drug store across the street from my building, and there were two, three, and four flat buildings on the block too. Also, it was during that time that we lived on twenty ninth and Cottage Grove that my sister Winnie who was working got her own apartment and my sister Annie got married and left the home too.

The Bryants lived on the second floor of a three flat building to the left of this monstrous tenement that I lived in. They had four children, three boys and one girl. They seemed to be very nice people, but they kept to themselves. Even the children never came out to play with us. Lorenzo was in the same grade and class as I at John B. Drake school and he and his siblings were fun and games on the playground at recess time, but when school was out they disappeared behind closed doors and we saw them no more until the school bell rang. Now, I lived on the west side of the street and to the right of my building Mr. Peacock had a Second Hand Store. Along with used clothing he also sold day old chocolates. At least, he said they were only a day old. A little farther down on the same side of the street was another Second Hand Store called "Poor Me". For all the years that my family lived on twenty ninth and Cottage Grove there was a big sign on the door of that Second Hand Store that read, "Poor Me, Half priced, going out of business". Even after we moved from there, that store had not gone out of business. The Bracys lived on the second floor of a three flat building on the east side of the block right next to Dave's Drug Store. They had eight children and the three youngest, Brutus, Randolph, and Cora were a part of the crowd that my sister Almeta and I had fun with.

Those were the "Good Old Days". Every family knew and related to every other family on the block except for the Bryants. It was like the whole block was your family. If you were at your friends' houses at mealtime, you ate there. If your friends were at your house at mealtime, they were fed. None of us had much, but what we had we shared. Many times you were still hungry, after you had eaten your share, but at least you had something to eat. On Sundays we'd all go to Mount Pleasant M.B. Church and we'd see most of our friends and their families there. I liked to be found in church on Sunday. Sometimes my sister Thelma, would let my sister Almeta and me go with her and her friends to Reverend Gales Church at night over on thirty first and State street. When we moved to a different neighborhood my sister Almeta and I attended Sunday School at Olivet Baptist Church on thirty-first and King Drive [it was called South Parkway then.] Almeta did not always go to Sunday School but I graduated from the primary department at Olivet Baptist Church at nine years old. I remember I was given a brand new bible. I was supposed to attend the Intermediate Sunday School Class, but about that time we moved again. I, alone attended Sunday School and joined the Children's Choir at South Park Methodist A.M.E. Church. The next time we moved, I found a Store Front Church down the street and around the corner to attend. In the summertime my sister, Almeta and I would go to the open-air Tent Meetings at night. She was twelve and I was ten years old and my mom would let us go some nights since it was a church meeting. We enjoyed hearing the word of God being preached and singing those songs and clapping our hands. It was some solemn serious fun for us. When the music was played and we were singing and clapping our hands along with all those people, we felt like we were really "in the spirit" [whatever that was supposed to mean.] One of the songs said, "Sing, sing, the clouds away. Sing, Oh, my Lord, sing in the spirit, sing my children oh my Lord." I remember those tent meetings with clarity. My sister Thelma would let my sister Almeta and me go with her and her friends to the Baptist Missionary Training School in the evenings sometimes. The young people there were training to become missionaries. They would read Bible stories to us and they taught us lots of hymns and gospel songs. On certain evenings we could go there for supervised relay games and volleyball. At Christmas time they gave us a big party and we all got a nice gift. Christmas at our house never made much of an impression on me. We soon learned as kids that Santa Claus was fictitious. He could not come to our apartment anyway because we never had a chimney for him to come down. We were too poor to do anything about Christmas and I can't ever remember feeling sorry for myself at Christmas time because too many people loved and cared for me every day of the year. I did enjoy the program and the treats we got at church and the parties for the poor at the old Coliseum and at Medinah Temple. Then there were charitable organizations that gave baskets of food to the poor and we usually got one. So, we had some food, some candy, some toys, and lots of love. When my sister Almeta and I were about twelve and ten years old, my mom would give us each carfare and twenty cents at Christmas time so we could ride downtown and see all the Christmas displays. We would go to all the department stores, ride up and down on the escalators, visit all the toy sections and look at all the toys and decorations. Then we'd go to the Five and Ten Cent Store, climb up on a stool at the snack counter and have a hot dog and a root beer with our twenty cents. We also would spend our return carfare on candy. When we were really ready to go home, my sister would tell me to cry and go tell the policeman that we lost our carfare. The nice policeman would give us carfare, and tell us which streetcar to take to go home.

Halloween was always a fun time for us kids. Oh! We had "Big" fun on Halloween. We didn't know anything about tricking anybody for a treat in those days. We didn't go from house to house looking for treats either. We didn't soap up anybody's windows or turn over any garbage cans. We didn't buy any fancy costumes either. We used things around the house to dress up in. Girls put on boys' things, boys put on girls' things and we used soot, white chalk, and lipstick for make-up. When we got dressed and made up, we headed for the schoolyard's playground party. Since the school was at least eight or nine blocks away, we could check out our friends and all the other masqueraders in the street that night; complementing some and laughing at others all the way to and from the playground. The playground Party was a "blast". Everybody got a hot dog, a soft drink, and an apple if you dunked for one. There were games to play, relays to run, prizes to win, and songs to sing like "OLE Dan Tucker", "On The Dummy Line", "Old Macdonald", etc. After about two hours of fun and games we all scampered and laughed all the way home. I outgrew Halloween after elementary school, and I really didn't like it when grown-ups started playing mean tricks like putting pins and razor blades in candy and fruit. When I got married and had children of my own, they could go only to the homes of people who knew them and they had to stay on the block.

Thanksgiving was also a fun time for me. Many times we did not have a turkey. Most of the time we would have a chicken. My mom, being such a good cook would cook extra amounts of whatever she could get and we could eat until we were about to burst. Everything tasted so good it was hard to stop eating. Before we were allowed to eat, each one had to take a turn telling what things they were thankful for. We were all thankful for our mom, each other, our health, our relatives, and friends. Each one tried not to repeat what someone else had said. If you were the last one to give thanks, you might find yourself giving thanks for the fish in the sea, the leaves on the trees, green grass, the sidewalks, or whatever creature comforts you could think of to keep from being repetitious. After we ate, we took turns either reading a story or a poem about thanksgiving and singing songs. After all that singing and reading, we were ready to eat more food. My favorite Thanksgiving song was:

Cartloads of pumpkins as yellow as gold
Onions on silvery strings
Shiny red apples and clusters of grapes
Nuts and a host of good things
Chickens and turkeys and fat little pigs
Oh these are what Thanksgiving brings.
Now is the time to forget all your cares
Casting your troubles away
Think of your blessings, remember your part
Don't be afraid to be gay.
For none are too old and none are too young
To frolic on Thanksgiving Day.

My favorite pastime was going with my family to Riverview Amusement Park. My mom would try to get us there at least once a year. The ride to Riverview on the streetcar was a forever ride. It seemed like we were never going to get there it was such a long ride. In those "Good Old Days" the streetcars ran on tracks like a train. They had a trolley extending up to electric wires over head to furnish power to make the cars run. There was a conductor and a motorman on each car. The conductor took the fares and the motorman drove the streetcar. The streetcars were called "The Chicago Surface Lines" and they would transport people all over the city. We also had Double Decked buses in those days. They were a common sight up and down the boulevards. My mother's brother Uncle Austin, used to give us kids a treat some Sundays by taking us for rides on the Double Decker bus and treating the whole family to ice cream when he brought us home. My Uncle Austin was not married at the time. He lived alone and visiting his sisters and his brother gave him an opportunity to touch bases with his immediate family. They could talk about grown-up things like politics and their relatives Down South etc. He seemed to enjoy talking to us kids too. He would ask us about our schoolwork and emphasize the importance of getting good grades. He would ask who our friends were and tell us not to form friendships with children from immoral, corrupt families. He would tell my older brothers and sisters that they should know and be friends with the precinct captain, because he could help you. I think he enjoyed the double decked bus rides as much as we kids did. My mom's brother, Uncle Peter and his wife Aunt Lottie, as I said before, would keeps us younger kids by their apartment some weekends to give my mom a little rest. Also, I think I mentioned that my mom's sister, Aunt Almeter whose husband was deceased used to visit us and bring us ice cream and cookies. My mom had four brothers and four sisters. Two brothers and one sister came to Chicago from the South, namely, Peter, Austin, and Almeter. Her brothers and sisters that stayed in Mississippi were Caesar, Ned, Margaret, Sara Jane and Winnie. My family never visited Mississippi so I never met any of them.

In reminiscing back to my younger days, I remember when the milkmen's trucks were pulled by horses. Then there were the horse drawn wagons of the fishmen, the fruit and vegetable men, the icemen and the watermelon men. Their wagons would come down the alley and the peddlers were calling from house to house selling their wares. The watermelon man serenaded us and the vegetable man sang to us too. The watermelon man used to sing: " Cherry red ripe wata-mellon here, wata-mellon here. Ou ñay we only got a few more left. Little girl, little boy playing in the sand, go home and tell your mama , Here's the wata-mellon man. Cherry red ripe wata-melon here, wata-mellon here. Ou-ay we only got a few more left." The vegetable man used to sing: "Onions a nickel a pail mam, Onions a nickel a pail. Onions a nickel a pail mam, Onions a nickel a pail. I got yo onions, potatoes, yo red ripe tomatoes, spinach, mustard, and turnip greens here. "Come on out now." (He'd yell this out loud.) The fish man didn't sing and the iceman didn't sing either. The fishman called out the prices of his fish. The iceman just observed the windows of the houses and apartments for ice cards that indicated either 25, 50, 75 or a 100 lbs. of ice needed and he would promptly deliver it; so, he had no need to serenade us. While he was delivering his ice to his customers, that's when we kids would take turns jumping on his wagon to get shivers of ice to chomp on.

A funny thing happened one day while the fruit and vegetable man was delivering veggies to his customers. His horse kicked over a pail of peaches. A bunch of us kids coming on the scene saw peaches all over the ground end each one took one. One little fellow who was bringing up the rear asked us where we all got peaches. We all shouted, "We got these peaches off of the ground." Looking around and seeing no peaches on the ground, he kicked over a pail of peaches, picked up one and said, "I got this peach off of the ground."

After school when homework was done, I liked to enjoy the company of my friends. When the weather was nice, we would take walks or play outdoor games. In inclement weather we played school and indoor games either at my apartment or at one of my friend's apartment. My circle of friends was Cora Bracy, Mary Ellen, Randolph Bracy, Roberta Allen, Ira Lloyd, Emma Hall, Earnest Sawyer, Amanda Jones, John Allen, Cora Bell Rainey, Artemeshia Smith, Burdell Smith, John Barfield, and Marion Mason. My two best friends were Cora Bracy and Artemeshia Smith. We all attended the same school, shopped at the same stores, attended the same church where we learned hymns, poems, and verses to recite for Easter and Christmas. I remember one Easter a bunch of us was given a poem to recite where each verse began with a letter from the words "EASTER SUNDAY". I remember my verse started with the "S" and it went like this, "S is for Savior so loving and kind who healed the sick and cured the blind." After church on Sunday's I played in the big back yard with my friends. I always felt sorry for the kids on the block who were an only child in their family when it begin to get dark outside and parents began to call children in for the night. They always looked so sad going home alone and I could continue having fun indoors with my siblings. We sang songs, read poems or stories, played cards, told ghost stories and played other indoor games.

From third grade to graduation from John B. Drake Elementary School on twenty-sixth and calumet, I remained at the same school. Although my family still moved a lot, we stayed within that school district. My third grade teacher, Ms. Gallagher, was mean to me. On my first day back in school after being out sick for a long time, I lost my place in the story during the reading Period. When it came my turn to read and I didn't start reading, Ms. Gallagher came to my desk, yanked the braid of my hair hanging down my back and when my head bounced up she slapped my face as hard as she could. "That will teach you to keep up with the story," she said. Every once in a while, that little incident crosses my mind. My fourth grade teacher, Ms. Lovett, was sweet and lovely. She made us work hard, but she didn't scream, holler, or hit kids. My fifth grade teacher, Ms. Dutton, was another meany. She beat the skin off of my bony shoulder with an iron curtain rod because I kept pronouncing the word "head" with a long "a" sound like (haid) instead of a short "e" sound like (hed). I didn't know beans about phonics at the time and she wasn't teaching phonics either. There was a period of time when the school system discontinued Phonics and adopted the "See and Say" method of reading and I said words the way my family said them at home. My sixth and seventh grade teachers, Mrs. Williams and Ms. Fredricks were not "screaming meanies". They were firm but soft-spoken educators and I liked school again. My eighth grade teacher Mrs. Patchell was also the Assistant Principle and she was a "screaming meany". She beat up on other kids in the classroom, but I guess I had smartened up by then and knew what to say and how to act in a classroom because she never had an occasion to hit me. I remember once when a new kid in the school was sent to the Assistant Principal for disciplining asked us what was our teacher's name. We told her that the teacher's name was "Miss Toilet Water". Lucky for us she couldn't remember exactly who told her that because a whole bunch of us had shouted it out.

Graduation! "Oh Happy Day"! For the Graduation exercise the entire class sang a patriotic song called "Flag of Our Skies" and each student recited a very short poem. Ms. Patchell had assigned several of us students to recite just one verse of a poem about the different phases of the sun from its rising in the morning to its evening setting from the Indian's point of view. My verse was about the setting of the sun. I don't recall the entire verse, but I remember the first line of my verse was "The Sun is a wounded deer". That's all I remember of the verse and I think because of my experiences at John B. Drake Elementary School I kind of felt like a wounded deer getting out of that school. Maybe that's why I only remembered that part of the poem. Of course that feeling didn't linger too long with me that day because it was a custom back then to get to Riverview Amusement Park on the last day of school, Graduation Day, no exception. If you could get to Riverview on the last day of school, you would see just about everybody you ever knew there. It was like a huge neighborhood "Party". If you could get a dollar and carfare, that was fifty rides because there were 2¢ days and 5¢ nights back then. Of course some rides like the Parachute were 15¢, but even so, a little money could buy you whole lot of fun.

The Summer after my graduation from John B. Drake Elementary School, at age 13, I started working for a couple of families on the west side of Chicago doing house cleaning. I only worked at that occupation for a short while. Next, I tried to sell Fuller products and I very quickly found out that I was no salesman either, so I gave that up too. This was the summer that my sister Thelma got married and left the home. I was happy when summer ended and I started High school in the fall. Thanks to President Franklin Delano Roosevelt for the CCC, WPA, NRA, PWA, NYA and all of those other work projects, I earned $4.00 a month on NYA in High school as a messenger for the Dean of Girls. I reported to the Dean's Office every day on my study periods to fulfill my quota of work hours. After school, I worked three hours a day and a half-day on Saturdays cleaning house and doing a little cooking for a schoolteacher for $3.25 a week. That might not seem like a lot of money in this day and age, but in those days the fare on the Chicago Surface lines was only 3¢ half fare, 7¢ whole fare and the transfer was included in the fare. You could buy a loaf of bread for 5¢, a pound of hamburger for 15¢, three pounds of neck bones for a dime, newspapers and postage stamps were only 2¢. You could buy a brand new pair of shoes for only $1.98 and a nice new sweater for $2.98. You could see a movie for a dime, buy a hotdog and a root beer for a dime. In spite of all my workings in and after school, I managed to learn in school and get my homework done after work. I made the honor role every year. I earned a bronze pin the first year, a silver pin the second year, a gold pin the third year and became a member of the National Honor Society with another gold pin upon graduating as a four year honor student. When I graduated from Wendell Phillips High School in June of 1941 at age 17. I was number 7 in graduating class of 200 students.

One pleasant social outlet for me during my high school years was being a member of the Camp Fire Girls. I didn't have much time for social activities, but I was free on Saturday afternoons for club meetings. I enjoyed the songs, lectures, parties and fund drives we had. We sang lots of songs. My favorite Camp Fire Girls song was:

A Camp Fire Girl is quite discreet.
She looks one hundred per from head to feet.
She has a style a smile, a winning way.
No matter where you go you'll recognize her and you'll say,
"Now there's a girl I'd like to know.
She has that good old Camp Fire Peppy Go,
And just to look at her it's sure a treat,
It's hard to meet a Camp Fire Girl.........."

We even had a dance teacher teaching us to do ballet dancing. As a culminating activity before we broke for summer vacation, we planned a dance at the beautiful Parkway Ballroom. The Campfire Girls were on the program to dance the ballet. I practiced ballet dancing during club meetings, but I couldn't afford to buy the ballet costume so I didn't participate in the dancing on the stage in the program. I did have lots of fun at the dance. I remember walking to the ballroom with some of my friends that lovely summer afternoon. We picked up more guys and gals along the way to ballroom. At one point some in the group were giggling and started slowing down. When we all came to a stop we were in front of a tavern. Very bluntly I blurted out " I'm not going in no tavern." That's just how I said it loud and crude. "I'm not going in no tavern." Some in the crowd said "you don't have to take a drink, you could have a soda." "I'm not going in no tavern" was my reply. I'm sure I dampened the spirit of the crowd because the giggling stopped, conversations were low and controlled for the rest of our walk to the Parkway Ballroom and nobody went in the tavern.

When we reached the Parkway Ballroom the band was swinging, balloons were floating everywhere and everyone's countenance brightened and their spirits lightened as we blended in with the merry gathering. One handsome young man who had joined our group somewhere along the way approached me and asked for the first dance. As we danced he told me that he thought I was very courageous to take a stand against the crowd and speak up for myself. He said he admired me for doing that. At intervals during our dance he would press me really close to him and release a little. Each time he did that shivers ran through me and I was in seventh heaven. Although I was not much of a dancer, he was a good dancer and it was easy to follow him. In those days everyone did the two-step and you really didn't have to know how to dance to dance it with a good dancer. He was tall, handsome and so polite I was in a dream world. After that first dance, I lost him in the crowd and never saw him again. I can't remember his name, but I'll never forget that dance. This was just the third dance that I had ever attended. I attended a GAA dance (Girls Athletic Association) in the high school gym one afternoon. Then there was the Wendell Phillip and Du Sable basketball game and dance at the Parkway Ballroom that I attended. When we were growing up my mom was very strict. She would not even let us go to a friend's birthday party if she didn't know the family. She would say "I don't know what goes on in that house so you can't go" and that was the end of it. We were not allowed to go to the neighborhood dance hall either. Actually, I really didn't want to go to a place called "The Vipers Inn" anyway.

There wasn't much extra time for socializing during high school. I was busy working and getting my housework and homework done. I had a few laughs with a few friends during the lunch hour at school. When I out grew the Camp Fire Girls I joined the Girl Reserves at the neighborhood YMCA. We met twice a month in the evenings. We enjoyed listening to motivational speakers, singing songs, and rehearsing plays to perform at planned social gatherings. I was also a member of a Royalettes Club at the Urban League. At our gatherings we talked about planning a good life, staying in school, and sometimes we would take parts and read through a play. Also our club leader was teaching us Pitman Shorthand. We had a nice club song that went like this:

We're the girls of the Royalettes club
With a vision sent from above
Oh master point out the was
Nor suffer our steps to stray
Follow, follow we follow thee
With heart, hand and voice
In thee we rejoice
Follow, follow we follow thee
In the path that thou leads today

I didn't have many boyfriends during high school. I remember a nice looking chap named Roger who used to seek me out during the lunch hour. He would always come up behind me and try to give me a hug. I would push him away and say "Boy! You'd better leave me alone." I was definitely what my crowd would call a "square" growing a new corner every day where boys were concerned and Roger finally gave up on me. Then there was a classmate named Winston who asked to visit me at my home and I accepted. When I told my friends at school that Winston came to see me, they said that Winston had a lot of girlfriends and I said that he had better now be entertaining other girls if he was going to be my boyfriend. When the grapevine took my words back to Winston, that was the end of that boy-girl friendship. I was so naive where the opposite sex was concerned. My mom had kept us so close and I was so busy with school, work, and club meetings, I guess I really didn't know how to reach out to the opposite sex. My next encounter with the opposite sex was with Harold. His sister and I were good friends. Sometimes I'd stop by her house on the way home from school. Her mother just fell in love with me. She thought I was just the girl friend for her son Harold. And she encouraged him to pay attention to me. Well, he sent me a valentine card in school on Valentine's Day and he took me to a movie once. I attended one High school football game one evening since he was a popular quarterback. When the game was over a bunch of girls rushed out on the field yelling "Harold, Harold." That was too much competition for me. So I took myself home alone. When he got home he told his mother that he didn't see me anywhere after the game was over. I think that relationship petered out from that point on.

After graduation from High school our country became engaged in World War II and all the young men were called to arms. Now there really was a lull in my social life where the opposite sex was concerned.

I graduated from Wendell Phillips High School in June of 1941 and I attended Herzle Junior College for just one year. I spent all of my study periods working in the Employment Office on NYA for ten dollars and twenty-eight cents a month. I only attended Junior College for one year because when I turned eighteen I was cut off of Welfare and I needed to get a job and go to work. Luck for me, Mr. Davis, who was in charge of the Employment Office where I worked on NYA was responsible for getting students jobs during Christmas and summer breaks or when they had to leave school got me a job as a File Clerk at the Chicago Chapter of the American Red Cross. I worked there eleven years from 1942 to 1953. I began working as a file clerk. Later, I became a clerk Typist and still later I was the Teletype Operator sending and receiving all telegrams over the Teletype Machine which was very exciting especially during the World War II years.

During this period of my life I attended a Bible Witness Mission on thirty-first and State Street. I attended the young people's meeting on Sunday's and helped with the Wednesday evening children's meetings. I taught Daily Vacation Bible School during the summer sessions. I sang in a trio at some of the Sunday evening services. Our trio would also go to the Cook County Hospital every Monday night and go through the big wards singing gospel songs and passing out gospel literature. We sang on the Moody Bible Institute radio station once. We sang on a radio station in Hammond Indiana once and also at a big youth for Christ rally in Milwaukee Wisconsin. Many times we sang in evening services at the Pacific Garden Mission. We even sang at Hines Veterans Hospital and a few times in chapel services at the jails in Joliet and Statesville.

Somewhere in between the time I graduated from High School and attended Junior College for a year, my brother Austin went to war, my sister Almeta got married and left home. My oldest brother Sampson who left high school when my father left us and worked and stood by my mom all these years also struck out on his own since we kids were all grown. Now there was just mom and I living together.

Up to now, I was blessed as far as serious illnesses were concerned. I remember that my sister Almeta was hospitalized with scarlet fever when she was about ten or eleven years old and our apartment was quarantined by the Board of Health. No outsiders could come in and we could not go out until our apartment was fumigated to prevent the spread of that contagious disease. No one else in the apartment came down with scarlet fever. Except for heat rashes which my mother smothered with cornmeal, and occasional fever blister that was covered with ear wax, an occasional cold and later in the teen years the monthly menstrual cramps, I was pretty lucky as far as sickness, serious enough to be hospitalized, was concerned. Of course, as a teenager I stopped wearing the long cotton stockings the underwear that came down to your ankles and the undershirts that came down to your wrists. I used to get the flu or sore throat in winter, and home remedies took care of both. All the girls wore nylon stockings in high school and so did I. I wore skirts and dresses long enough to conceal my below the knee snuggies, and long sleeves to hide the thermal undershirts. My mom was my doctor, and she took good care of me until these illnesses subsided. When I got married, I was hospitalized for childbirth, but I don't consider that a sickness.

During the years that I taught school, I developed high blood pressure, which I still take medication to control it, and I have arthritis in several joints which I don't take medication for and I think exercise eases that discomfort.

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