Melba A. Sweets was already a young woman of 19 when the first edition of The St. Louis American rolled off the presses back in March 1928.
In 1932, her husband Nathaniel A. Sweet would become publisher of the fledgling newspaper and she would become a newspaper columnist soon after. A former English teacher, she was suited for the job of helping to write and edit the newspaper.
At times Melba Sweets tackled controversial topics, such as the 1947 appearance in St. Louis of the singer and activist Paul Robeson, who was then being Red-baided as a Communist. She considered her news story about Robeson’s death in 1976 as her most important piece of journalism.
“I was always good in English,” said Mrs. Sweets, who was born Feb. 26, 1909 and remained a feisty editor, always ready to offer her criticism of the paper, long after she retired.
They used to call me chief critic because that’s what I was, she said, laughing.
“She loved words so much. She respected them. She wanted everyone who worked for the paper to embrace her love of the language,” Ann Scales Style editor for the Boston Globe, said of Mrs. Sweets. “She cared about words and how they were used more than anybody I know.”
Scales, who worked under Mrs. Sweets at the American in the 1980s, is one of the many Black journalists – including her own children– schooled under the scrupulous editor who advanced far in the field.
Her son Fred Sweets siad, “The folks she’s helped become better people and better journalists – besides me and my sister – included Donald M. Suggs, Gerald Boyd, Bob Joiner, Sheila Rule, Greg Freeman, Ken Cooper, Kevin Boone, Ann Scales, Jabari Asim.”
Her daughter Ellen Sweets said, “She worked with so many people who have gone on to other publications –the Post Dispatch, L.A. Times, US News & World Report, Business Week, The New York Times.” Ellen was a food writer for the Denver Post, Fred, who lives in Miami, Florida, worked for years as a photographer and editor at the Post-Dispatch and Washington Post. A third child, Nathaniel Allen “Buzzy” Sweets, Jr., also worked as a photojournalist for the American between service in the military and a career at the St. Louis County Court.
Buzzy, who lives in North County, remembered a symbol of Mrs. Sweets that will live long in the memories of journalists who worked with her.
“The most famous thing was her red pen,” Buzzy said. “Every time somebody would make a mistake, she would go through the paper, mark up the mistakes with her red pen, and show it to everybody.”
Mrs. Sweets’ husband, the late Nathaniel A. Sweets, Sr. (who passed in 1988), bought the American in 1932 and later sold it to a group that included Suggs in 1981.
She continued to write for the American – and mark it up with her red pen – for years after the sale of the paper.
“Hers was a tough love for the newspaper and the journalists who produced it,” Suggs said. “Her total dedication to quality writing and the nurturing of young writers are an enduring contribution to the American’s progress as a newspaper.”
Jabari Asim, who started in journalism as a columnist and editor at the Washington Post, and now is associate professor of writing, literature and publishing at Emerson College and editor in chief of the Crisis magazine, remembered receiving her critical calls after each issue of the paper was published.
“Because everyone knew that she was calling to go over the mistakes she found in the issue, the phone would get handed to me, the new guy,” Asim said.
“A friendship developed between us as soon as I realized, and quickly realized, that inevitably, she was right.
Up from the Vill
Mrs. Sweets was born in St. Louis on February 26, 1909 and grew up at several addresses in The Ville, including a four-family flat in the 4200 block of Cote Brilliante near Cora Ave. She remembers a time when Blacks were not allowed to live west of Taylor Avenue.
Her father Oscar Samuel Ficklin, studied chemistry by correspondence while working as a porter at Union Electric and eventually became that company’s first Black chemist. Her mother, Ocarsenia Ficklin, was a teacher until she married. The young Melba was an only child. “Her father was also a taskmaster,” Ellen said. “He impressed upon her at an early age the importance of education.”
Mrs. Sweets attended Simmons School, Sumner High School, Sumner Teachers College (her mother’s alma mater) and Howard University.
“In her time at Howard, she would sit on the lawn in Anacostia, the historic Black section of D.C., and talk with Sterling Brown and Langston Hughes,” Ellen said.
She and Hughes were to remain life-long friends.
She was a graduate of Stowe Normal Teachers College (now Harris-Stowe State University). She briefly attended Howard University before running out of money and returning to St. Louis. She landed a job teaching English at Cottage Avenue School, located near the football field of today’s Sumner High School.
She taught in St. Louis public schools from 1930 until her marriage in 1937. Chuck Berry was one of her students.
“Married teachers had to give up their jobs to the single people who were waiting for work.” Mrs. Sweets told Doris A. Wesley in the 1999 book Lift Every Voice and Sing.
“So because I happened to marry a newspaper man, that’s how I got into writing.”
Nathaniel Sweets was a graduate of Lincoln University in Jefferson City. He made plans to attend law school, but he never made it. Instead, he marked time as a waiter for the railroad until he entered the newspaper business.
“Nobody had money,” Sweets said. “My husband was not a writer. He was a good hearted businessman and a good salesman. He made a lot of friends. He had the gift of the gab. He knew the business side. He not only sold the paper, he sold ideas to people, influenced people and others to put money into the paper.” (He also founded the St. Louis American Cab Company in 1949 to promote the newspaper.)
Together, the Sweets would help grow the newspaper from the inside out, beginning with not much more than their souls and a love for journalism.
“The American was always a center of activity for our family, leading up to the Thursday’s publication day,” Fred Sweets said. “I remember lively discussions about what would be on the front page. I remember her laying out the paper with Bennie Rodgers. Hearing the press ‘roar.’”
The Sweets worked to keep the paper published during the hardship years of the Great Depression. Time and time again they rose to the occasion, learning as they went, working part-time and full-time with little to no pay with the help of people like Executive Editor Emeritus Bennie G. Rodgers, who joined the staff during World War II and stayed for more than 50 years.
“My husband knew I was a worrier. He never let me know how bad things were,” Sweets said.
“I think he put himself in the grave, trying to give his family the best, even when he didn’t have anything.”
We’re Tellin’
For about 55 years, from around 1930 to 1985, Sweets and a friend, Thelm Dickerson, wrote a column called, “We’re Telling.” Mostly they wrote chit chat about life in the black community and people came to refer to them as “Mel and Thel.”
Langston Hughes once described it as the best such column he had ever read.
“Every once in a while we got into things deep but mostly it was social, homey stuff – who had babies, who got married, who went away,” she said.
“It was about young people. Also we wrote social news, obituaries. Maybe we were paid $10 a week.”
At times she tackled controversial topics, such as the 1947 appearance in St. Louis of the singer and activist Paul Robeson, who was then being Red-baided as a Communist. She considered her news story about Robeson’s death in 1976 as her most important piece of journalism.
She traveled to Castro-era Cuba and wrote a series about her journey. She proudly remembered a piece she did on Jim Crow laws in St. Louis, when she profiled an actress who opposed segregation yet who was appearing at the segregated American Theater. The front page cried, “Never again” as the actress vowed to never play the segregated theater again.
In 1977 and 1978, Melba Sweets served on juries for the Pulitzer Prize – becoming only the second African American at the time to have done so. Twenty one years later, her son Fred accepted a Pulitzer Prize on behalf of a photo team at the Associated Press. Nathaniel “N.A.” Sweets, who suffered from diabetes, died in 1988 at age 87. He was named Publisher Emeritus of the paper.
It took an unexpected injury to an ankle late in life to slow down Mrs. Sweets. When she turned 90, friends and family threw a bash for her at a local church and people traveled from out of town to help celebrate.
After her retirement, she continued to scrutinize the newspaper – not only for mistakes but for familiar faces: Frankie Freeman, Dr. Leon Burke III and countless others.
Melba Sweets herself made for a striking photograph – eyeglasses, a head of white hair and the intense focus.
Her modest home was filled with photographs of family, friends and icons such as famed dancer and educator Katherine Dunham and former presidents Bill Clinton and Jimmy Carter.
Late in life, she reminisced about a five-cent American printed in black and white, unlike the brightly colored pages that dominate today’s complimentary editions. Also, she recalled the paper didn’t have a lot of photos, unlike today’s edition. Nearly everyone working at the paper had other jobs because the paper couldn’t pay people full-time salaries – again, unlike today’s operation which supports a full-time staff.
“One day, she was refusing to eat,” Ellen said. “One nurse Sylvia said, ‘Mother Sweets if you don’t drink this for me, I’m gonna split an infinitive.’”
Mrs. Sweet was a staunch member of Pilgrim Congregational Church. Prior to that she was at All Saints Episcopal, “She was a very spiritual person,” Fred said. She also was a cancer survivor. She underwent a radical mastectomy years ago but declined chemotherapy. “She has seen it wipe out too many of her friends,” Fred said.
Even as her health declined in her later years, she remained an avid reader and critic of journalism.
Buzzy said, “As long as she could, a young man would bring her the paper every week – until she got to the point when she just couldn’t read it anymore.” Her fierce advocacy for proper English remained with her until the end. Ellen said that in her final days at Barnes-Jewish Extended Care, her mother regularly corrected the nurses when they spoke improperly.
“One day, she was refusing to eat,” Ellen said. “One nurse Sylvia said, ‘Mother Sweets if you don’t drink this for me, I’m gonna split an infinitive.’”
“Mrs. Sweets was an extraordinary woman who continued to inspire many with her words of wisdom and kindness,” said Dr. Consuelo Wilkins, who cared for her from 2003 until her death. “Even on days when she didn’t feel her best, she was always concerned about the well-being of others and managed to brighten any room with her warm smile.”
Melba A. Sweets died Nov. 4, 2006, at 97.
In addition to the Sweets’ three children, Melba Sweets was survived by eight grand-children Hannah Sweets of Aspen, Colorado), Nicole Marie Sweets (of St. Louis), Alecia Sweets Maclin (of Atlanta), Glyn Adrienne Sweets (of Chicago), Matthew Sweets (of Reston, VA), Tara Sweets (of St. Louis), Teresa Sweets (of St. Louis), Taryn Williams (of St. Louis).
See the entire St. Louis American’s 95th Anniversary Special section.