With Black History Month just behind us, we thought we would share some memories of working in an earlier era sent to us by a reader.
I grew up in the Ville and lived across from Poro College, where many students attended and received their beautician license. My girlfriends Jerry and Jennie and myself called ourselves the Poro kids because we were a part of the daily activities involving the college. Each of us had a relative employed by Mrs. Annie Malone, which put us together frequently.
The three of us would come from school to Poro College to stay until our parents and grandparents were finished working. Jennie’s father was the engineer for the building. My grandmother was the seamstress for the players in the many plays produced on the stage in the theatre at Poro. Jerry’s mother worked in the parties held there, and we watched in amazement at how wonderful everyone looked, thinking we could not wait until we were old enough to attend such an affair.
My grandfather was a blacksmith and always worked for himself, taking care of the shoes for the horses owned by local residents. (In the Missouri History Museum there is an advertisement brochure with black businesses, and my uncle William Roden is listed.) During the later thirties, his business began to take a turn for the worst as more people began to purchase automobiles.
He was a tall man and a big man. I would hear discussions on his weight. I could not conceive the idea that he weighed that much. Later, when I learned about the anvil, lifting that heavy instrument you had to be very muscular with very little fat. He gave everyone in the family a special name. My name was Little Bit and little I was.
My grandmother was a short woman with powerful strength that commanded your attention and your respect. She kept me so involved with so many organizations that I am convinced it was to keep me busy and out of trouble. I belonged to the St. James Church Junior Choir, Girl Scouts and Calling All Girls organization. I went to Camp Derricott every summer.
Aunt Emma was my grandfather’s sister and came to visit us one year. She had to sleep in a fold-up bed. As soon as she was all comfortable, the bed folded with her in it. We laughed so hard, and she was yelling, “Stop laughing and help me out of this bed!” All I could think of was a song we had learned at summer camp, “O, My mother in law she is dead she got locked in the folding bed.”
Every year the Annie M. Malone’s Orphans Home Day Parade was the highlight of the year. My grandmother would always sit in the stand with Mrs. Malone and watch the parade from there. The Annie M. Malone Parade is still in existence. It is still in honor of Mrs. Malone, who helped to make it all possible. Today that facility has many more services added.
During that time there were many places that would not hire blacks, one place in specific was the F.W. Woolworth on Sarah and Martin Luther King (Easton Ave. it was called at that time). I can remember marching with my aunt and my mother carrying signs that said “Unfair Hiring Practices.” Eventually, they hired black sales people. When I was sixteen, that was my first job, and I stayed with them through college.
Julian Roden, my father’s brother, trained young men in the community to run the movies in local movie houses. The problem was the black operators could only work at movie houses in the black community, and those jobs were often taken by white operators. Julian Roden and a group of other local members went to Chicago and had the local 143, which was the black local, changed to Local 143A, from then on the black operators were able to operate in the movie houses located in the black neighborhoods.
