This interview was conducted on behalf of Charleston County as part of the project: Stories from Historic African American Communities: A Journey to Equal Education, W. Gresham Meggett High School, James Island, SC. Charleston County was awarded a grant from the Department of Interior and National Park Service (NPS) in 2018 to conduct this oral history project aimed to provide insight into the lives of African American students during desegregation. The project is structured by the NPS research framework: Civil Rights in America: A Framework for Identifying Significant Sites (2002, rev. 2008).
This interview was conducted on March 18, 2019, at St. James Presbyterian Church, James Island, Charleston County, South Carolina. Mary Beth Reed (New South Associates) and David Richardson (a local Meggett graduate working on behalf of New South Associates) were the interviewers; Jenna Tran (New South Associates) was the technical assistant.
Cassandra Singleton Roper: Singleton-Roper.
Mary Beth Reed: We have Cassandra Roper-Saunders. Sanders?
CSR: Uh-uh [negative.] Cassandra Singleton Roper.
MBR: Ah, Cassandra Singleton-Roper.
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
MBR: And David Richardson.
David Richardson: Backman-Richardson.
MBR: And they’re going to talk about the history of St. James Presbyterian Church. I’m going to leave you guys—just really talk what your family—
CSR: Yeah.
MBR: Well, what school did you—yesterday, you told us what school you went—you went to school here. So let’s start there.
CSR: Well, that’s not really where the history of the church started now.
MBR: All right. How did it start?
CSR: The church started back in 1866. The church was formed, was founded in 1866. And the reason why the church was formed in 1866 is prior to that during the Civil War, there was a war between the North and the South. And African American slaves at that time worshiped in the James Island Presbyterian Church down the street on the corner of Fort Johnson and—and—this road used to be named—[Quarantine Road and it was changed to King’s Highway].
DR: North Folly.
CSR: No, no.
DR: This road was—
CSR: This road’s name was—road that we call now Fort Johnson Road was Quarantine Road.
DR: Okay.
CSR: And so on the corner of Folly and Quarantine Road is where the James Island Presbyterian Church was, where the African American slave worshipped sitting upstairs in the balcony, and the whites sat downstairs. But during the Civil War, the officers of the war took over the church as their headquarters. James Island Presbyterian Church was the headquarters.
DR: Were they Union officers or the Confederates?
CSR: Well, whichever one down here—Confederate.
DR: Confederate. Okay.
CSR: And it was stated that one of the soldiers started a fire in the backyard.
DR: At the church.
CSR: And as a result the fire spread and burned the church down, and the cemetery on Folly Road is where African American slaves are buried at. It’s called, to this day, the Burn Church Cemetery—
DR: Correct.
CSR: …because that’s where the church burned down. So as a result of the church burning, the white parishioners worshipped at the home of Ephriam Clark. He was located at Clark’s Plantation.
DR: Okay.
CSR: The black parishioners had no place to worship. They believed in their faith and they wanted to worship. So what they did was they gathered and marched down to the corner of Quarantine Road.
DR: And Secessionville.
CSR: And that’s when they—the road’s name was not Secession, but don’t put words in my mouth. And that’s when they—
DR: [inaudible 00:02:26.]
CSR: There was a big oak tree there. And under the big oak tree there were five men who were the leaders, who led this band of African American slaves down to this corner: Richard Backman, Trouman Cromwell, Lazarus Fludd, Billy McDowell and Samuel Washington. The highway was Kings Highway and Old Savannah Road was the intersection. That was the old name before it was changed to Fort Johnson and Secessionville Road.
DR: Okay.
CSR: And what they did was they started gathering under this big oak tree. And under the big oak tree what they built was what was classified back then as a brush arbor. It was just an enclosure made out of sticks and branches, and that is where they worshipped, and they even worshiped in inclement weather. It didn’t bother them that—they just wanted to worship and that’s where the African American first started worshiping. When the white parishioners—you know, during the war, they left the plantations and went up to high land.
African Americans stayed down here in the lower part of the land because, you know, they didn’t have no place to go. So when the white parishioners came back, they said that the Northerners wrestled the slaves away from them, and that’s how they started the church, but that was not true. That was—the Northerners had nothing to do with it. The church was called “Colored Presbyterian Church.”
It was later on that the Northerners came down and they started helping the freed slaves. There was a group that was sent down from the North that was told to come down and to assist the freed slaves, and that’s how they became involved, and our first pastor was from the North. His name was Reverend Hezekiah Hampleton Hunter. He came to James Island from the Northern Presbyterian Church. He came from Brooklyn, New York specifically to work with the newly freed slaves—colored—people of color.
DR: Okay.
CSR: Because Rev Hunter realized that the future of the Southern blacks was his future too. They should—he said, “Rise up and accept their freedom.” So that was how the church was first formed under the brush arbor. Later on, back in 1868—I’d have to look through the book here to see the year that they first established a structure, a wooden structure. As a result of worshipping on this land, the land was owned by Mr. Clark the land was first owned by Mr. Ephriam Clark, and Ephriam Clark gave them permission to worship there. Later on, he sold 2/3 acres of land to the newly freed blacks.
DR: How much land was it; do you know?
CSR: It was two-thirds acre. See, that’s why I needed to kind of glance back to the book to see. You’re not recording, are you? Yeah, it was a two-thirds acre that they purchased. And the building was constructed in 1868. It was called “The Colored Presbyterian Church.” The building replaced the brush arbor. The Committee of Freedmen in support to the General Assembly in 1868 states that “The Colored Presbyterian Church on James Island building was completed at a cost of $800,” and it had a membership of 400 members at that time.
DR: And that was the original church?
CSR: That was the original church, yeah. Eighty Sunday school pupils and 89 students in the Mission School. So the school was actually called the “Mission School” at first. You’ll find all of the church on the Sea Islands had Mission Schools.
DR: Even the Baptist?
CSR: Well, the Sea Island Presbyterian churches had Mission Schools.
DR: That’s right.
CSR: No. Because the Baptist church and all of them were formed from the Presbyterian church. You know, just like now we have the schism, where they don’t—one likes this and the other one doesn’t like that. That’s when they formed their own (another) denomination (church)—but all of their students came here to the Mission School. Although their parents were members of the other churches on the island, the students attended the Mission School. So we had the first Mission School on James Island. Johns Island had a Mission School.
All of the African American churches had Mission Schools. So education was what the Northerners believed that the freed Southern slaves should [have] —and, you know, it was welcome. And that’s where you were talking about Miss Martha (Mattie) Gladden. She was one of the teachers, but it started with Marion A. Sanders, and his wife Ona Belle Sanders—well, no, he wasn’t the founder of the Mission School. The Mission School started under Reverend Hezekiah Hampleton Hunter.
DR: Which was the first minister.
CSR: Yeah, the first pastor. But then the Mission School was closed at one point, and the church was seeking for a pastor, and that’s when the Reverend Sanders reopened the Mission School. We had—prior to Reverend Sanders, we had Reverend Adam Frayer, who was also—he came in 1894 after the death of Reverend Hunter. And he was also the pastor at Hopewell and Aimwell Presbyterian Church on Edisto Island, so that’s where you see—that’s why—they had Mission Schools there too, because that’s what these Northerners, you know, ministers—[came to the South to educate the newly freed slaves.
DR: When did M.A. Sanders come?
CSR: Reverend Sanders came to the Colored Presbyterian Church in 1923. He was in Atlanta attending a conference in Atlanta, and he and his wife, Ona Belle Sanders—one of the elders from St. James approached him, who was—and that just goes to show you that back during those days, the elders from this church would travel to Catawba, North Carolina, to a Presbytery meeting. They would travel to Atlanta, Georgia to Presbytery meetings. And it’s amazing how they got to—and nowadays, we have people who have transportation and don’t want to go to the meetings, which is right across on Johns Island or right there on Edisto Island, or right up the street —you know, and it’s amazing how they would—leave from James Island, go to North Carolina, go to Atlanta, Georgia, and that [shows hoe committed/faithful they were to the work of the church
DR: A great inconvenience.
CSR: Yeah. And that’s where they met Reverend Marion Sanders. And one of the elders told—asked Reverend Sanders—that the church was looking for a pastor because we were without a pastor. And there, like I said, Reverend Marion A. Sanders and his wife Annabelle Sanders were approached by an elder from St. James who expressed an urgent need for a preacher and a teacher to reopen the much-needed Mission School to help young black children with basic curriculum. So that’s where—but prior to Reverend Sanders coming, the Mission School was closed because of the fact of not having a teacher or a preacher, and then after Reverend Sanders came in 1923, it was reopened.
DR: So ’23 when it—
CSR: When they reopened it, until the public schools were integrated. And when the public schools were open, that’s when—not integrated. But when they were opened, that’s when they closed the Mission School back in 1960 or so. It’s in here somewhere.
DR: Well, I attended the school.
CSR: But you attended the school.
DR: Yeah, I attended this school in the first and I think the second grade, which meant that my third-grade attendance at [indistinct 00:09:53] was the year before we got transferred to Gresham Meggett. So according to the timeline, that might have been about ’53.
MBR: So it was operating from the ’50s.
CSR: Yeah.
DR: Consolidation of the elementary schools was about ’53 I think, because Gresham Meggett construction started in ’52.
MBR: That’s right. Yeah.
DR: Yeah.
CSR: Yeah. See Reverend Sanders reopened the Mission School, which was now called the parochial school in 1924. Classes were held in the sanctuary. Having a need for more classroom space, the church purchased a small frame house from a neighbor who was across the street. And it’s amazing, for $50, they rolled that house over on rollers. They rolled that house over on rollers across the street and attached it to the opposite side of the church building.
DR: Of the church.
CSR: Yeah. And the two-room building was moved on rollers across the highway and it was used for additional classroom space at the east end of the church, and later a kitchen was added, you know, so the children would have free lunches. And the young and energetic Reverend and Mrs. Sanders, through the St. James Parochial School, built a very strong educational program for black youths and adults on James Island, and the curriculum covered grades one through eleven, while the public schools covered the first seven grades only. So you see the church was very instrumental in the education of the children here on the island. Mrs. Sanders, who was very instrumental in teaching, she gave the girls instructions in embroidery, crocheting, garment making and general home economics, and the boys were also taught home economics.
DR: It’s important when you’re young because you—you see all that [indistinct 00:11:39] she had?
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.] Classes for the adults were held mainly when black—when work on the farms was slow and were made up mainly of ladies. Mrs. Sanders, she was in—she gave—also taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, quilting, mattress making, and canning. And Mrs. DeVoe, who was a home demonstration agent for Charleston County also was one of those who taught history.
DR: Yeah. I remember all of them. You don’t remember them; do you?
CSR: No, I was not here.
DR: But I remember them.
CSR: But we had several teachers. The teachers were Mrs. Sanders, Mrs. Albertha DeVoe [phonetic 00:12:14[, Mr. Lazarus Washington, Miss Eleanor Washington who lived across the street there that lived on the back of this property, Ms. Catherine Washington [phonetic 00:12:20] Mr. Adam Davis, Miss Hattie Belle Sanders, Miss Annabelle Peat Davis [phonetic 00:12:24], Miss Martha Gladden [phonetic 00:12:26] who taught you, Ms.—cousin Ernestine—
DR: All of those teachers, huh?
CSR: Cousin Ernestine Roper who lives down the street from you, yes, she taught. Miss Eloise Williams—Louise Williams, Lavola Whaley [phonetic 00:12:38] was also a teacher.
DR: Where did they have all the spaces for those teachers?
CSR: And Louise Mex [phonetic 00:12:43].
DR: It was over a period of time?
CSR: Over a period of time. And Fred Gibson [phonetic 00:12:46] assumed the position of director of physical education after the reassignment of Mr.—resignation of Mr. Adam Davis. And the cooks were Miss Cecelia Richardson, who lives down the street from—on the back road.
DR: Oh, our aunt.
CSR: Yeah, our aunt. And Miss Louise B. Williams, [phonetic 00:13:01] who lived down the street.
DR: Down the street, yeah.
CSR: They were the cooks for the parochial school.
DR: Absolutely. [indistinct 00:13:06] too.
CSR: Free bus transportation to the public schools started in 1951, which affected attendance at the parochial school. So it was after 1951 that the church parochial school closed its door. A free lunch program for the students in the parochial school was set up in 1926, and the enrollment grew to 500 students who would come here.
DR: [indistinct 00:13:34.]
CSR: And in 1927, a lot on the Folly Road was purchased from Henry and Maryanne Richardson. Do you remember them? That was—
DR: That’s where their house was.
CSR: Yeah, that’s where the house was—for the building of [indistinct 00:13:47].
DR: Yes.
CSR: And the Center out of the South provided funds from the [indistinct 00:13:50] construction through a grant. So the Northerners really looked out for the church down here now. We couldn’t say that we depended on the Southerners at all. But it was the Northerners who provided—
DR: [inaudible 00:13:59.]
CSR: Because what they would do also is, they would send—and it’s amazing how they would send boxes and boxes of clothing—
DR: I remember that.
CSR: …here to the church.
DR: Yes.
CSR: And the church distributed that to anybody in the neighborhood who had a need.
DR: Yes.
CSR: They would come to the church after these boxes of clothing came and were distributed—
DR: Especially during the preseason—holiday seasons.
CSR: Yeah, during the holiday seasons; yes.
DR: Yeah. Boxes of—
CSR: Boxes of clothing was sent from the North, you know, so it was highly appreciated.
DR: Yeah, it was. Everybody helped.
CSR: And the Sunday school was purchased on Sol Legare from Mr. Howard in 1934, for building them a Sunday school. Do you remember the Sunday school on Sol Legare?
DR: Yes, I did. Yeah.
CSR: That was the church school that was built, but it was built on Sol Legare.
DR: But it was an extension of this church here?
CSR: Sort of, yes. But Mr. Howard—program for the Sol Legare, which we used to call “The Chapel.”
DR: Yes.
CSR: And the first teacher there was—
DR: So they had classes in the chapel also?
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
DR: The chapel existed before the first Sol Legare school?
CSR: Yes.
DR: Okay. Because the one right—the first school that Willie showed earlier was across from—where Tafioes was [phonetic 00:15:11.]
CSR: Yes. Up on the water where—
DR: On the water side.
CSR: You know where the Richardson house was?
DR: Right; okay.
CSR: Because [indistinct 00:15:18] still there right now.
DR: Where Bubba—
CSR: Where Bubba Richardson’s house was; yeah.
DR: It was actually at that sight?
CSR: Yeah. If you go to Sol Legare right now, you’ll see the school bell is still there.
DR: Okay.
CSR: Yeah. When you go to Sol Legare again, look at—stop at Bubba Richardson’s house.
DR: It’s right in the big yard.
CSR: And the house is here. And right to the back near the water—
DR: Yes.
CSR: …you can see the bell. It’s still standing right there from the first schoolhouse that was on Sol Legare. And later on, the church purchased additional property. In 1940, a chapel was used for classrooms built on the west side of the church between Secessionville Road and Sanctuary, and it was amazing. Free books were supplied to the Mission School from the Northern school—is where the books for the—
DR: Would come back to the state.
CSR: Well, it came from the North; yeah. And the amazing thing is too that when the public school was open, they used to send their used books over here to the St. James Parochial School, and the books were torn. They were written in.
DR: The pages were written in.
CSR: I mean, pages were torn out. But the books were written and scribbled all over, but, you know, the teachers had to work with whatever they were given.
DR: They made the best out of it.
CSR: They made the best out of it, and they—
DR: That’s right.
CSR: …taught the students well.
DR: Yes.
CSR: Because like I said, the parochial school went up to grade 11. And it was only in the 12th grade that they would go into the city and go to the school that was back then called—there was Burke—
DR: And Avery—Burke. It started off Avery and then eventually—yes.
CSR: And Avery, Burke. Yes, that’s where they went to graduate.
DR: A long struggle.
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.] It was. This building that you see now that’s called the “Head Start” building, we used to—it’s called—was the A.B. McCoy Building. The Mission School building was built in 1951. It was named A.B. McCoy Building. It was honoring Dr. Albert B. McCoy for the special efforts he exerted in helping the church to secure funds for its construction.
DR: So he was obviously not a local person.
CSR: No. He was not.
DR: When I heard that name, I was thinking about the McCoy’s off of Fleming Road, but that’s not what you’re saying.
CSR: No, he’s not related to them. You never could tell back then. Now, he may have left—dropped some seeds here and there, but you know what I’m saying.
DR: But they didn’t, you know, they didn’t have those kinds of means.
CSR: Uh-uh [negative.] Yeah, the church remodeled its sanctuary in 1953 to accommodate the growth and its membership, which had grown to approximately 900 members by then.
DR: And what year was this?
CSR: In 1953.
DR: Okay.
CSR: And right now, we only have like 1,200. So you can imagine back then for the small facility that they had, they had over—they had 900 members.
DR: Yeah. The [indistinct 00:18:03] orchards.
CSR: Oh, yeah, it used to hot in there. But they used to the windows up. We can’t put windows up now.
DR: That’s true.
CSR: But they used to put the windows up.
DR: No air conditioning, no fans either.
CSR: No fan, but they—
DR: Except the one in your hands.
CSR: That’s all. Hm-hmm [affirmative.] If they had fans back then. Who knows?
DR: There wasn’t no windows—cross breeze; yeah.
CSR: And during the week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, services were held at the class—at the homes of persons that we called “class leaders.” Sol Legare had a class leader. Remember, we used to hold it at Poplar House across the street, the big house. [indistinct 00:18:34.]
DR: Oh, then Uncle [indistinct 00:18:35] used to have a club meeting there.
CSR: Yeah. Every area on the island had what was called a “Meeting House.”
DR: Yes.
CSR: And on Tuesday and Thursday nights, prayer meeting and church service was held in those different—in the different communities.
DR: And they were persons private homes.
CSR: Yeah, they were in people’s private homes.
DR: You know, someone might have had a—
CSR: A large area. Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
DR: And all the houses were kind of small.
CSR: Yeah. But then they started branching off. Because on Grimball, they built a hall, you know as you’re going around the—
DR: Which one?
CSR: On the left side. It’s a house now.
DR: Down by Riverside?
CSR: Yeah, Riverside Lodge.
DR: Riverside’s right at the fork.
CSR: At the fork in the road.
DR: But the [indistinct 00:19:16] you’re talking about—there was another lodge there too.
CSR: Yeah.
DR: And there was another one on [indistinct 00:19:19] Drive near Jesse.
CSR: That’s right.
DR: Do you remember that?
CSR: All of those were used—homes for meeting houses for services.
DR: And sometimes—depends upon the private individual, the size of their homes. Because bodies would be—would lay in state overnight.
CSR: Yeah.
DR: And on Sol Legare which was the largest one for the—all entire community. There were many funerals held there because the homes were not large enough to accommodate them.
CSR: Right. Yeah, the body was—
DR: Or for folks, you know, to go to for the wake, you know. And so, around the island, there were, in most every community—
CSR: Every community.
DR: Because, you know, right behind the Baptist church on Dills Bluff Road, there was one right there.
CSR: Right.
DR: And, of course, there’s another one someplace down [indistinct 00:20:10].
CSR: Yeah, on the left as you’re going to go to Fort Johnson High School.
DR: Right.
CSR: I mean, the charter high school on the left.
DR: Yes. There was one—
CSR: Yeah, there was one there; yeah.
DR: Yeah. So every community was —like a big house for a combination of activities because of the homes themselves were not sufficient enough to accommodate people, you know.
CSR: Yeah.
DR: Those were the days.
MBR: How were the meeting houses? That was part—was a family tasked with being in charge—how were they organized? I mean, geography?
CSR: Primarily, the class leader—each area had what we called the “class leaders.” There were 10 class leaders. There was a class leader on Sol Legare. There was a class leader on Grimball. There was a class leader—what that class leader did, they were members who were assigned under that person’s spiritual—for spiritual guidance or spiritual leadership and wherever that class leader was is where there would be a meeting house. Say, for example, on Sol Legare—papa’s house, the big house on the water was the meeting house there because he was a class leader for the Sol Legare area on Beefield [phonetic 00:21:21].
DR: Are you talking about Eddie Singleton?
CSR: Eddie Singleton; yes.
DR: Yes.
CSR: On Beefield, there was a class leader for Beefield was—let me see. There were 10. There was Paul Martin on Cutbridge, [phonetic 00:21:33] Charles Whaley on Grimball, Frank Deleston [phonetic 00:21:36] was also on Grimball.
DR: Yes.
CSR: Isaac Richardson was on Hazard Road [phonetic 00:21:42] which would be your area.
DR: Yes.
CSR: Yeah.
DR: [inaudible 00:21:42.]
CSR: And then we had Abram Brown who was on Grimball. And then we had Ezekiel Washington, which was over here on Beefield, and then we had James Williams, who was down in the island, Toby Singleton—or Eddie Singleton was on Sol Legare.
DR: Sol Legare.
CSR: Jerry Seabrook [phonetic 00:21:57] was elsewhere.
DR: Someplace right there.
CSR: And Edward Drayton [phonetic 00:22:00], was down—so each of the areas on the island had one of these 10 class leaders, and they were responsible for the spiritual leadership of the members who fell under their under—like say, some of them had like 136 members that they were responsible for giving guidance and leadership. And one had 58, another one had 116, another had 55, another had 38. One had 114, 25, 88, 18, and 31. So these were all people that they were responsible for giving leadership to, or families that they were responsible for giving spiritual leadership.
DR: Which I think contributed to the unity and the strength of the church. Every week, on a certain day, usually Thursday I think it used to be, or Wednesday. They used to have a prayer meeting.
CSR: Tuesday or Thursday.
DR: Tuesday or Thursday?
CSR: Tuesday or Thursday were the days for prayer—
DR: There would be prayer meetings. And the prayer meetings were not just limited in terms of attendance by members of this church.
CSR: Anybody in the community.
DR: Anybody in the community. And there were basically three churches in the community. And the family members were members of all the churches.
CSR: Right.
DR: So it’s not—it was possible that the wife may be a member of St. James, and the husband may be a member of First Baptist or Payne.
CSR: Right.
DR: But it did not create any division because whenever there were anniversaries, and every year the different boards in the church like the Usher Board or the choir and what else—not the deacon. They didn’t have the conferences or—
CSR: No. The deacon had the anniversaries also.
DR: Yes. But the different churches, when the anniversary for a particular organization or service, department in that church, other churches would come and participate in that.
CSR: And that’s still happening up to today.
DR: Yes. Yeah. Used to be much more effective at one point.
CSR: Yeah. But like you were saying, like the meeting house on Sol Legare. In each of these areas, it was a nondenominational meeting house. Anybody, regardless of whether you’re Baptist, Methodist—
DR: Right.
CSR: …or whatever, you attended—went on Tuesday or Thursday to a meeting—to the meeting houses to have prayer meeting on Tuesday or Wednesday nights.
DR: Now, those prayer meetings went on a long time. Because if you’ve seen some of your movies prior to the Civil War’s era, groups that were allowed certain days together, and at some point, they could only do it if there was a white person present.
CSR: Yes.
DR: But it was a time where they basically I think put in effect their true belief in metaphysics. Because it was the ability to pray and I guess cast off some of the immediate troubling burdens that you had to face every day and repeat every day. So it was really an opportunity to refresh, to go after tomorrow. Because, of course, in those meetings, you pray and asking the Creator to help relieve of you whatever the burden is, and the collectiveness of the group and family members I think is what really created the effectiveness of it. That’s why I said it’s a chance to practice metaphysics to relieve and see a better day in the future, you know, but it was often well attended. And I remember there were times when, at a certain time of night, you’d hear talking. Because as the prayer meetings were dismissed. Of course, the groups would be going back and returning to home and many of the roads were still [inaudible 00:25:51.]
CSR: Yeah, they walked.
DR: Still [inaudible 00:25:53.]
CSR: That’s right.
DR: And so they’d be walking and having a good time talking to each other until they’d sort of gotten to their destination.
CSR: To the destination.
DR: Now, one of the things that came out of that also is the term “piece away.”
CSR: Piece away.
DR: Yeah, have you heard that before?
CSR: Uh-uh [negative.]
DR: Okay. There’s a practice where women often would walk, especially if they had one of them visiting the others house.
CSR: Oh, called “pieced away.”
DR: Yeah.
CSR: We call it, “I’m going to walk you pieced away.”
DR: Piece away.
CSR: Pieced away.
DR: Yeah, piece away. See, she put more words that there needed to be.
CSR: Yeah. No, we call it—
DR: You said, “pieced away.” I call it, “piece away.
CSR: No, pieced away. Pieced away. That’s for example if you come and you visit me, you may live down the street about a mile from me or wherever you live, and I said, “Well, I’ll walked you pieced away.” That means I walk you part of the away. Pieced away.
DR: But what happens there often, they go further than what they initially [indistinct 00:26:51].
CSR: Yeah. Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
DR: So the one that is being—and closer to home or to turnaround—
CSR: Turn around and walk me back. Pieced away.
DR: Piece away.
CSR: “Well, let me walk you back pieced away.”
DR: That practice may happen for more than one—
CSR: Several times in one trip.
DR: Yes.
CSR: Yeah, pieced away.
MBR: So were prayer meetings at night, mostly?
DR: Yes.
CSR: Yeah. But you know the amazing thing about it, children—because I remember when I was a little girl.
DR: You used to go to?
CSR: I used to go [indistinct 00:27:15]. Us kids, we used to enjoy it because we would, you know, they had these long wooden benches back then. They didn’t have no backs on the chairs like that. They would have them long wooden benches.
DR: Right.
CSR: And as the older folks were—you know, we would get up on the bench and we’d be jumping on the bench, and we’d—I tell you, we were—the young kids were engaged now. They were really engaged, and so I remember those days. I can see myself at papa’s house—my grandfather was one who had one of the houses on Sol Legare, and see myself on the back bench, you know, during the time that they had prayer service and when they were really engaged. And, you know, on the back bench just jumping up and imitating them, imitating the adults.
DR: The adults.
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
DR: And part of the practice that has now gone out of the window is it was mandatory to seek your soul salvation to be able to join a church.
CSR: Right.
DR: There was a process.
CSR: Explain to her what “seek your soul salvation” is.
DR: It’s a commitment by a young student or a potential member under the leadership of the class leader, initially, and it’s where that person begins becoming focused on wanting to join a church. It sort of requires concentration, constant prayer. And one part of it is I guess is to get control of your fear. Because you’ve got to often go outside at night by yourself, and—
CSR: That was the process, not often, that was the process. That was the process.
DR: It was absolutely a requirement.
CSR: That was the process.
DR: Yes, where you would go outside in a place that you have chosen for yourself to pray for a while, and by yourself, so it gives you a chance to overcome fear, I think, because you’ve got to stay out there.
CSR: I never did overcome fear.
DR: You didn’t?
CSR: Uh-uh [negative.] Yeah, because we had to stay out there, and then you would come back, after being fearfully outside at night by yourself, and then supposedly after a period of time, you would be dreaming these dreams. You’re supposed to have dreams that your class leader or a member or an adult would interpret.
DR: Would interpret.
CSR: Interpret. And that would determine whether you have completed the process to actually—
DR: Be admitted to the church.
CSR: Be admitted into the church.
DR: Yes.
CSR: Sometimes, you’d have to go back several times out there. And what they called—the terminology was “the wilderness.” You would go back into the wilderness and the term was, “You go into the wilderness and seek.” What you’re going to do is you’re going to seek your soul salvation to see whether God said it’s time for you to officially affiliate yourself with a particular congregation or not. And what you would do after a period of this happening, you would have dreams, and you would tell your dreams to one of the church leaders, and the church leader was supposed—
DR: Class [inaudible 00:30:21.]
CSR: Or class—yeah, class leader—supposed—we would interpret your dream and say, “Well, no, it’s not time yet. You didn’t dream the right dream, so that means you have to go back and seek some more.”
DR: Or continue the process.
CSR: Until they finally say, “Well, yeah, I think that you’re ready. And it sounds like your dream is telling you…” Like me, for example, my dream was interpreted by my—I was interpreted by someone from—not from the denomination that I was attending church with, but mine was interpreted by Mr. Reverend White from Payne Church. Because he was the man who was the cleaner of man. And he would come by and he would pick up your clothing and take it to the cleaners and bring it back every week. So—
DR: You’re talking about John Henry Moore.
CSR: John Henry Moore; yeah. So my mother would tell me, “Well, tell, Mr. Moore your dream.” And I told him my dream and he would say, “[indistinct 00:31:15] no, you’re not ready yet.” So the next week, I’d have to go out there in the wilderness again in the dark at night by myself again. And then the next week he came, he said, “Well, [indistinct 00:31:26], I think you’re ready. But now, your dream is telling you that you should go and talk to your Auntie Elizabeth Grant.”
DR: That’s where you would—
CSR: “And that’s—she’s supposed to be your spiritual leader.” Auntie [indistinct 00:31:41]. I was so disappointed. Not that it was my aunt, but because of the fact that I had always attended the Baptist Church. My grandaunt who raised me was a Baptist.
DR: [indistinct 00:31:53].
CSR: She was [indistinct 00:31:52]. Aunt 00:31:55 from Sol Legare.
DR: Huh?
CSR: Pleasant, from Sol Legare. Gerry Pleasant [phonetic 00:31:58] Leff from Sol Legare.
DR: Okay.
CSR: And they were members of First Baptist—the only thing that I remembered about the Presbyterian Church when I was little growing up is passing by here in a cart and buggy, because we used to ride on the back of Mr. Ed Palmer’s [phonetic 00:32:11] cart going to church. And I remember passing this church going down to First Baptist Church. And this was all of my memories was the First Baptist Church. Because us little kids—we used to—they had a big stove, an iron stove, and we used to sit right there by the stove during the wintertime, and they had an outdoor pool. And those are the only memories that I remember. I never remembered this church except during the time when they had anniversaries.
DR: Right.
CSR: Then, all of the churches would come and—
DR: Take a turn.
CSR: Because I liked the ice cream and cake that they used to have. So that’s what I remember about the anniversaries. Whenever First Baptist would have an anniversary or Payne would have an anniversary—
DR: Other churches.
CSR: Everybody would—other churches. You’d go to those churches. So what I remembered about St. James Presbyterian Church was the anniversary and coming and getting ice cream and cake. That was all. So when he told me that [indistinct 00:33:00], I think you’re supposed to be a Presbyterian, and your leader will be your Aunt Elizabeth Grant.” Man, I could cry, though. I said, “What?” He said, “Yeah.” He said, “Yeah, that’s who you need to go talk to, and she’ll tell you the process for you to join the church.” I said, “You’re sure I’m supposed to be a Presbyterian and not a Baptist?” He said, “Yeah, your dreams said that you’re supposed to be a Presbyterian.”
DR: Oh, my goodness.
MBR: About what age would you do this process?
CSR: Around 12.
MBR: Twelve?
CSR: Yeah, 12.
MBR: And is all of this a James Island Sea Island—
CSR: Traditionally. Sea Island.
DR: It’s part of the developed tradition.
MBR: Okay. Part [indistinct 00:33:38] and Presbyterian, obviously, not just Presbyterian.
CSR: No, it was not a domination. No.
MBR: Yeah.
CSR: It was just a tradition to African Americans on the five Sea Islands.
MBR: Okay.
DR: They hear the same practice down at Sapelo, you know, folks, you know, just part of our culture on the islands.
CSR: Yeah. But anyway, so that’s how—and then I would go and talk to her, and I would tell her my dream, and she’d say, “Yeah. Well, I think so. Well, you two got to do….” You’ve got to meet with the session, and after you meet with the session, then they’ll approve you and that’s how you become a member of the church. But I’ve been here ever since. But my heart is still there; can I be honest with you. There’s still a part of me that still resonates with First Baptist Church.
DR: So did you all go to—now, I’ve been a member—
CSR: Because that’s where I came from.
DR: Now, I’ve been a member of First Payne. Our brother, Thomas and I, joined about the same time, and Uncle Timothy was with us too.
CSR: Timothy Backman.
DR: Yeah, where the prayer meeting house was. Then, when I came back out of school, I joined First Baptist until they had some un—
CSR: Some schism in the church.
DR: Yeah, and I left. And I said, “You know, I better go back where I first started at.” And that was right here. And so I joined this—our father is here in the cemetery. My mother—where is your mom buried?
CSR: My mom was buried over behind the [indistinct 00:34:59] Library.
DR: So Green—
CSR: Greenhill.
DR: Green something.
CSR: Yeah, Green Cemetery.
DR: Yeah. I understand Richard Backman is there too, and our great-grandfather. I haven’t been able to find his gravestone.
CSR: Oh, really?
It improves blood flow, prevents stress and frustration in bed and thus contributes to happiness and wellbeing, which in viagra 20mg turn help avoid certain aging effects. Here is a list of some of cialis australia the areas where having a UPS system becomes important in order to understand the delivery schedules of the vendor and see whether it suits you. However, its higher prices made the treatment of erectile dysfunction a very cialis generika short problem. He Inability to Sustain a Stiffer Penile The inability for maintaining a stiffer penile erection is sufficiently firm enough for lovemaking session is another sign of generic sildenafil uk impotence condition.DR: No. Very close relationship [indistinct 00:35:12]. Yeah, absolutely.
CSR: But anyway, and that’s really the basic history not leading up to the current history of the church, you know. That’s the background. The church started in 1866 to the present, which is 152 years. And throughout these 150-something years, we only had eight ministers with the two associate pastors between 152 years. Reverend Campbell stayed. He was here for 23 years. He died—
DR: When was that?
CSR: …December 3rd, 19—look, I remember Reverend Campbell’s death like—he died December 3rd, 1963.
DR: Now, how long was Shaw here?
CSR: Shaw was here for only maybe about three or four years. Yeah, we had a little—
DR: Do you remember him?
CSR: Yeah, I remember Shaw. Hm-hmm [affirmative.] Yeah. After Shaw left, then Campbell came, and Campbell was with us for 23 years. And he died suddenly. He went in the hospital and he never came back, sudden death.
DR: And he was a local boy, in a sense.
CSR: He was from—
DR: I think he was from Edisto.
CSR: He was from Edisto, yeah.
DR: Yeah. That’s the first time I know we had a minister—
CSR: Local.
DR: Yeah, who was [indistinct 00:36:18], in a sense, you know. Of course, McKinley had never been a minister here, but—
CSR: No.
DR: …I guess Heyward. Heyward was born—
CSR: He was from Johns Island.
DR: Yeah, that’s later. This church, as I recall, had one of the largest congregations in the Southeast.
CSR: Yeah. Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
DR: And all the Presbyterian churches.
CSR: And we’re still classified as that.
DR: Oh, yeah.
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.] The largest African American church. But which I’m thinking that maybe there may be one in Charlotte that may be larger, but the last that I heard a couple of weeks ago was that we’re still the largest. And I’m saying that because of the fact that, you know, churches purge their membership roll every year. So it could be that maybe that other church has dropped—its membership role has dropped [indistinct 00:37:06.]
DR: Okay.
CSR: Yeah. So, in November of each year, we purge our membership.
DR: And this church does support Johnson C. Smith.
CSR: Johnson C. Smith Theological Seminary; yes.
DR: Okay.
CSR: We do.
MBR: I want to thank you.
CSR: Oh, you’re welcome.
MBR: We pressed you into service. You haven’t eaten your lunch. But that was fascinating.
CSR: Thank you.
MBR: That was fascinating.
CSR: I probably would have been able to share more if I’d had an opportunity to glance back at the history book, you know.
MBR: Well, we’re really pleased. Because when David talked to us about what was the Mission School then, to give that context, and you really did. But it was—when Sanders came back. When he came here to—almost three decades or more, the school was in existence.
CSR: Yeah. Hm-hmm [affirmative.]
MBR: That’s pretty amazing, you know. So—
CSR: Well, we had it—it was open before Sanders came now.
MBR: That’s what I mean. It just immediately closed before he came and then—
CSR: And then reopened when he came; yes.
MBR: That’s just an incredible record of affiliation.
CSR: So, it actually opened during the year that Reverend—the first pastor came, Reverend Henry Hampleton Hunter from the North came. That’s when the—
DR: In 1866?
CSR: He came in 1866.
DR: That’s interesting. My school—the school I went to—so one of the oldest African American schools that was started by General Fisk with his offsprings. Because at that point, the Confederates or [indistinct 00:38:38] had children that they acknowledged, and they wanted them to get an education, so that was one of the—several schools were started at higher education: Fisk University, Talladega, Hampton, not quite. There were a couple of others in the South. And it was—Fisk was 1866. And I didn’t realize that this church was really that old, you know.
CSR: And see, back from its inception the Colored Presbyterian Church was a Mission Church. As previously stated, the Northern Presbyterian Church sent Reverend Henry Hamilton Hunter to organize the church and a school to educate the newly freed children in 1866.
MBR: So it started in ’66?
CSR: So that was his—yes.
MBR: And that was into probably—the hiatus when it was closed.
CSR: Right.
MBR: But what—just the record alone is amazing.
CSR: And we were really primarily supported during that time through the Board of National Missions. Because the Board of National Missions also supplemented the pastors’ salaries. Back then, you know, people didn’t have any income per say.
DR: Right.
CSR: So a lot of times, the pastor’s salary was supplemented with a chicken, eggs. And when you killed a pig or a hog or something like that, you know, they would share those things with the minister, realizing that they would not—didn’t have the funds to pay him other than what the Northern church—the Northern church like [indistinct 00:40:09] did supply toys and clothing for distribution to the children at Christmas and other times, and that’s where the pastors’ anniversaries started from.
It started from the fact, during the time when—because the congregation didn’t have the means to support the pastor, they said, “Well, once a year, why don’t we just have a pastor’s celebration on the anniversary for the pastor. And the purpose of that was just to, you know, you’d save your pennies throughout the year, and then during the time that you have the pastor’s anniversary, you would give them a purse or a gift. So that’s when it started, and some churches are still doing it. Whereas, that’s not the purpose of it. It was originally organized for them. It was just to give—but now, there are some churches who are still holding onto that, you know, that tradition. But I’m—
DR: Is that still in practice here?
CSR: Well, last year, we changed it from pastor’s anniversary to pastor’s appreciation.
DR: But basically—
CSR: But basically, it’s the same thing, you know, and which I—off the record, I just personally don’t feel that we are in an era now where—that was started for a reason, and we’re at the position now where pastors are being paid whatever their call has been approved for. The Presbyterian looks out for their pastor because now they set a minimum amount that you can pay a pastor. You can go above that, but you cannot pay them any less than that. So, in following the Presbyterian polity, I don’t think that there’s a need to have pastor’s anniversary, but there are still some churches that—and pastor’s appreciation day. I think that a love gift can be given to the pastor anytime of year. You don’t have to wait until a particular time of the year.
MBR: Right.
CSR: If you want to bless your pastor with something, you can give it to him, if they have to live more than one time during the year.
DR: She’s Catholic, you know.
CSR: Oh, she is. Oh, okay.
DR: So she’s got six pockets on them.
CSR: Oh, okay. But anyway.
DR: We’re all the same.
MBR: Was there—when we say, “Born in the Presbyterian church,” were there any like—from Boston—was there an area that contributed more to the health of this congregation?
CSR: No. Everything came through the Board of National Ministers. Wherever it was located, that’s where it came through.
MBR: I got you.
CSR: Yeah. All the donations went to the Board of National Missions, and they would in turn—
DR: Is that the same thing as what is now called “Presbytery.”
CSR: No. The Board of National Missions is at the top—at the General Assembly level.
DR: See, what is the Presbytery then?
CSR: The Presbytery, each—
DR: I thought it was the National Presbytery.
CSR: No, you’re talking about the National Church.
DR: Okay.
CSR: There are 100 and something Presbyteries. We are in—in South Carolina, there are five Presbyteries in South Carolina. There is Trinity Presbytery. There’s Charleston Atlantic Presbytery.
DR: That means they have regions with Presbyteries.
CSR: Regions with X number of churches under that forms a Presbytery.
DR: And there are five in South Carolina.
CSR: Yeah. We have—I think there are 40-something churches under our Presbytery. Trinity Presbytery had X number of churches. Providence Presbytery has X number of churches. New Harmony Presbytery has—it all depends on your region. We’re in the Western region, the Northern region and the Southern region and Eastern region of the state.
DR: So, the region—a member of a particular region is located within a geographic place?
CSR: Yes.
DR: Okay.
CSR: Yeah, where Presbyterians are located; yeah.
MBR: This has been great.
CSR: Okay. Now, you all go take a break, and I’m going to take a break so I can 00:43:48. This has been good, but I need to go.
MBR: All right.
CSR: I appreciate you all asking me to share.
DR: You hear how precise and—
MBR: She’s right to the point. I like it.
DR: Does that remind you of something?
[laughter.]
DR: I tell stories of it. She’s a [indistinct 00:44:08] top of it.
MBR: Do we have everything fully—I’m trying to think.
JT: [indistinct 00:44:11].
DR: How about—do you have a release?
MBR: Okay. Yes.
CSR: Do you need me to sign something.
JT: Can I get a nice smiley picture?
CSR: Oh, sure. You want me to smile?
JT: Yes. To go with—when it’s just a transcript, when it’s just writing, and then, you know, you put a face to it, so—all right. Perfect. We’re going to take a few just to make sure.
CSR: Sure. Hum-hmm [affirmative.]
JT: One, two. Great.
CSR: I hope the peanuts are not showing in my teeth.
[laughter.]
JT: And once more. One, two, three. Perfect. Thank you.
DR: So you’ve got—you have insurance on the camera; right?
JT: She doesn’t even know she’s going to be on camera, and yet she’s got, you know, her little—I like your necklace. I like your headscarf.
CSR: Thank you.
JT: You look very well put together.
MBR: I think you look great.
CSR: Yeah. You know—yeah, I know you all were doing the interviews for W. Gresham Meggett. I graduated from Gresham Meggett in 1963. But before I graduated from Gresham Meggett, I came here in—I came here from New York in the 7th grade.
DR: You need a [indistinct 00:45:16] right?
JT: [inaudible 00:45:16.]
CSR: In the 7th grade—
JT: [inaudible 00:45:16.]
CSR: In the 7th grade—
DR: Cassandra?
CSR: Hm?
DR: Do you have 15 more minutes?
CSR: Yeah, I guess so.
MBR: Do you want a—
JT: Do you need a break? Do you need to—
DR: See, we’ve been interviewing some students.
MBR: Okay.
DR: But not proportionate among our females.
CSR: Oh, really? Yeah.
DR: Okay.
CSR: Interviewee is me?
MBR: Yes.
JT: You take care of that and do some names and stuff. I’m going to check on this car; okay?
MBR: Okay. Because we want—
CSR: Oh, you—oh, no. I can come back tomorrow now. I don’t want to interfere with anyone else; okay?
MBR: We have—yeah, but tomorrow—
CSR: You’re winding it up?
MBR: We have two in the morning.
CSR: Oh, okay.
MBR: Isn’t Brenda’s husband coming?
CSR: Oh, Nathanial [phonetic 00:46:01.]
MBR: No, we have Terry Fox [phonetic 00:46:03.] So we have two at 10 o’clock.
CSR: So what time are your appointments for today?
MBR: We started early this morning, but no one came for the afternoon.
CSR: Oh, okay. Oh, I thought she was going to check to see if you have someone—
JT: No.
CSR: If you have a half hour or so—
DR: Because we ought to do it now before—
MBR: Yes, if we can; if you’re all right with that.
DR: Because we don’t know—everybody else.
MBR: No, we’re good.
CSR: Okay. I filled that in.
MBR: It came from New York. It is more story today.
DR: Once you do that.
MBR: Okay.
DR: I mean, if you want me to I will.
MBR: Okay. No, I will.
DR: And see, there’s so much stuff that I—you’ve got to get more response from her because stuff is in my head; okay.
MBR: No, I’m good. I’m excited. The reason I said that is I talked to Cubby Wilder this morning. He went to grammar school in New York City, and then he came back here, so a totally integrated school.
CSR: Right.
MBR: Comes back here to a segregated school. So, it kind of flipped, you know.
CSR: That was my situation.
MBR: Okay. Here we go again.
DR: How long did you stay in the school in New York?
CSR: I went to New York when we were just—I went to New York back in—
JT: We’re going to start.
CSR: Hold on. I went to New York in—
MBR: Because she’ll answer to you.
DR: I’m David Richardson. We are at St. James Presbyterian Church, in the process of interviewing Cassandra.
MBR: Are you going to interview Cassandra?
CSR: I thought you told her to do it.
MBR: You told me to do it.
DR: Why are you pointing your fingers at me for?
MBR: Well, then, out you go.
DR: Oh, you’re a funny girl.
[laughter.]
DR: Oh, my goodness.
MBR: Take your pun and go.
DR: I don’t take well of people running me out of my own house now. All right.
CSR: The house across the street.
MBR: It’ll be easier that way.
CSR: Yeah, that’s right. Yeah, no interruptions.
MBR: This is Mary Beth Reed with New South, and we’re here at St. James Presbyterian, and I’m honored to interview Cassandra.
CSR: Yes.
MBR: Middle name?
CSR: Singleton-Roper.
MBR: Roper. There we are. Okay. Can you tell me—can I call you “Cassandra?”
CSR: Sure. That’s fine.
MBR: Can you tell me about where you were born, a little bit about your family—
CSR: Okay.
MBR: …and your education background and what your folks did.
CSR: Okay.
MBR: Just your back story.
CSR: I lived on Sol Legare. I lived with my—initially, I lived with my grandparents. Back during those days, the grandparents were the one who reared the children. My mother, who was a single mom, worked at the cigar factory in the City of Charleston. So on Sunday evenings, she would go to the City of Charleston and stay throughout the week to go to the cigar factory, Monday through Friday, and then come back on Friday, until Saturday.
But, in the meantime, I was raised by—in that time, I was raised—at that time, I was raised by the grandparents who lived on Sol Legare. They had a two-story house and she raised not only myself but seven other children, other siblings of the brothers and sisters of my mother. After I was about four, the houses weren’t close together, but I had a grandaunt who lived about maybe a hundred yards away, and she would hear me crying at night. Because my brother who was older than I was charged with the task of taking care of me at night upstairs. The grandparents stayed and slept downstairs.
And he would get to the point where—because I was a crybaby, he would throw me underneath the bed. And as a result of him throwing me underneath the bed, I would cry practically most of the night. But my grandaunt and them—you know, because back then, they didn’t have air conditioners. The windows were kept up. This was during the summer months. So they would hear me crying at night.
So then, one morning, she came over and she told my grandmama, she said, “Elva [phonetic 00:50:12], she said, “I hear that child crying all night long. Why don’t you let me take the child?” So my Grandaunt Rosa Leff and Jerry Leff took me from my mama, Grandmama Elva and Eddie, and she raised me. You know, back then, that was the way that it was done. You know, when one couldn’t take care of the child, the other one—so as a result of her rearing me, she had children who were in New York City.
So every summer, the children would send for her to come to New York, so that’s how my early years started going back and forth every summer to New York. And I attended school on—after a number of years. Then, I started public school on Sol Legare up to the third grade, or the second grade. And then she went to New York City and she stayed with one of her daughters, Florence Walker. During that time, I attended PS15—PS57 in Brooklyn, New York, which was an integrated school.
I had friends who were West Indians, who were white, who were Chinese. You know, we would go back and forth to each other’s houses, you know, ride the bus and go to each other’s houses. So then it came to the point where my grandaunt decided that it was time for us to come back home. And when we came back, she wasn’t well. So she said that, you know, maybe I should go stay with my mother, who lived down the street from her, and that’s when I—my experience with the school on Sol Legare was going to the public school on James Island. Well, not Sol Legare. That’s when I was going to school—I think I came back in the seventh or eighth grade.
MBR: Okay.
CSR: When I came back, it was the seventh or eighth grade and I went to W. Gresham Meggett. When I went to W. Gresham Meggett, it was kind of strange. I didn’t suspect anything, you know. After the day of classes, I kept looking around and I saw no faces other than colored faces. So that evening, Mr. Mack [phonetic 00:52:26], who my teacher, he said, “Cassandra,” he said, “well, how was your first day? What did you experience?” And I said, “Well, I don’t see any white children.”
He said—and when I said that, all the class just burst out. Oh, everybody started laughing. They started laughing. “White children. Why is she asking about white children?” And I couldn’t understand. I said, “Well, what did I say wrong?” So he pulled me aside, and he said, “Well, the white children go to a different school than the black children.” I said, “Well, how do you mean, a different school?” I said, “Well, in New York City, we all went to the same school.”
He said, “Well, that’s not the way it is down here. They have their own school that they go to, and we have our own school that we go to, you know, a school for blacks and a school for whites.” And I tell you, it took me awhile to be able to absorb that that there was a difference, you know, that there was a difference between black and white—and you don’t go to the same school, but eventually, you know. And I stayed at Gresham Meggett until the 12th grade and graduated from there in May of 1963.
MBR: 1963.
CSR: Yeah.
MBR: All right. Your grandmother’s name was?
CSR: My grandmother’s name was Elva Singleton.
MBR: Singleton; okay.
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.] Yeah.
MBR: And the aunt that—your grand—
CSR: Reared me.
MBR: Yes.
CSR: Rosa Leff.
MBR: Okay. Great. I’m just going back on—
CSR: Yeah, Rosa Richardson Leff.
MBR: And you were born what year?
CSR: February 9, 1945.
MBR: Okay. We’re going direct there for that because we’re going to larger topics.
CSR: Okay.
MBR: I agree with you it’s a process. What you were seeing must have been difficult.
CSR: Very difficult.
MBR: Did you fit in right away with the kids that you were going to school with? Had anybody prepared you?
CSR: No.
MBR: I guess not.
CSR: No.
MBR: That you were going to go to a segregated school.
CSR: I was—no. But I don’t know that they knew what type of school I was going to in New York. You know, I guess having lived here in the South for so long you just may not realize that schools were not segregated in the North, you know. No, I was not prepared. I was shocked on the first day I went to school. Because I kept looking around for a color other than, you know, black, and didn’t see anyone.
MBR: So you went for full high school. Do you remember what W. Gresham—was it a typical high school besides the fact that it was all black kids?
CSR: Yeah.
MBR: Did you switch classes? You know, all that kind of thing?
CSR: Oh, yeah. We switched classes. Yeah, we switched classes. I went to Mr. Mack for math, went to Miss Kaye [phonetic 00:54:57] for English, went to Miss Barnwell for Social Studies, went to Miss Manigault [phonetic 00:55:08] for another subject. So, yeah, we’d switch classes about five or six times per day.
MBR: Okay. So very typical high school.
CSR: A typical high school otherwise.
MBR: How did you get to school?
CSR: We went in the school bus.
MBR: You went in a school bus; okay.
CSR: Hm-hmm [affirmative.] Yeah, back during that time when I went it was a bus.
MBR: Right. One of the things that people have brought up is that the differences between—and in particular, schoolbooks that were given at Meggett versus the white schools, that it was known that they were secondhand books.
CSR: They were secondhand books. They were written in; yeah.
MBR: Okay.
CSR: Yeah. Written in. Same as with the parochial school. There were torn out pages. You know, we didn’t—we never got the best schoolbooks or any new schoolbooks. It was always used schoolbooks from previous schools that was handed down to us at the Gresham Meggett School.
MBR: When you think about Gresham Meggett, what do you think—what kind of education did you get? Do you feel like you—
CSR: I felt I got a quality education. And I say that because—I’m saying it compared to today. Back during the time that I went to school, it was all African American teachers. They pushed us to learn because I think they realized that it was not going to be easy. They realized where they came from, that it was not going to be easy for us African American students moving forward. So they were persistent. They were committed, and they were—they loved us as children.
Not to say that children aren’t being loved today, but I just felt like there was a deeper commitment with the teachers to ensure that we got a quality education, you know, and they were they available to assist if we needed help. So, yes, in my opinion—and I say that because some of the things that I can recall as far as history is concerned and my—I have a grandson who’s a history buff. And there are things that he and I can share that I learned during high school that students are not being taught today, about American History, World History. So those were things that the teachers back then instilled in us that we needed to learn.
MBR: Did your folks participate in your education, like through PTA talking to teachers?
CSR: Yes. They believed—
MBR: Was there parental support there?
CSR: They believed in attending PTA.
MBR: Okay.
CSR: Yes. PTA was—and I must say now, whenever there was a PTA meeting, the auditorium or the cafeteria in Gresham Meggett was full. The parents believed in coming out to the PTA meetings to find out what the children were doing, what the teachers had to say compared to today. It’s just the opposite. You know, they were concerned about us and our education.
MBR: And you talked earlier—and you were telling us about the history of this church here. Was there church leadership involved in your education at all? I mean, did the church leaders talk about the value of education? And when you had to—look, you had school, home, church. I mean, how did that—or did it not?
CSR: No. The emphasis was placed more from home.
MBR: Okay.
CSR: And I can’t say that the church leaders during my time before I graduated from high school because really I was not that involved in the church because of the fact that my mother was not coming to church. My stepfather was a Baptist. My mother was a Presbyterian, but she wasn’t coming. So really, my interaction with the church was—when I came, I came for the worship service and nothing else during that time. I became more active in the church back in the 1960s and ’66, ’67, is where my involvement with the church became, you know, heavily involved.
MBR: I see.
CSR: So, prior to that time, you graduated from Gresham Meggett; no. There was just the parental and the teachers’ involvement is what instilled in me to be who I was or who I am; yeah.
MBR: Well, the 1960s was a time of big change.
CSR: Yes.
MBR: How aware were you—I mean, you graduated in ’63. How aware were you of the Civil Rights Movement about activities in Charleston to integrate schools, or not?
CSR: Not.
MBR: Not?
CSR: No. The only thing that I remember about segregation—and I’m going to be honest with you, I’m not one of those persons who were hung up on segregation. The only thing that I remember about segregation to be honest with you is riding the bus, the public bus, going to Folly Beach. I know that we couldn’t sit in the front, and I know we had to sit in the back. And I only say that because on the weekends, on Saturday and Sundays, I would work at a restaurant called Kokomo’s on Folly Beach.
I would just go there early on Saturday morning or Sunday morning before time to go to church and clean up the restaurant, you know, clean bars, clean the bar off and sweep the floor and wash the glasses and put those things up, and I’m riding the bus. I know that we could not sit to the front. We had to sit to the back.
And also, in riding the bus going from Sol Legare to the City of Charleston, I remember we could not sit in the front. We had to sit in the back. Also, going to the lunch counter at Woolworth’s in the City of Charleston, you know, we couldn’t sit to the counter. You know, you could stand up and order something, and then you’d just have to take your stuff and go. But those were the only places that I really recall being, you know, involved in and noticed the segregation more so than anyplace else, knowing that there was a separate water fountain and all of that too.
MBR: Right. It’s sort of in that very public’s sphere, transportation.
CSR: Exactly, yes.
MBR: That sort of thing.
CSR: Yes. Hm-hmm [affirmative.] Yeah.
MBR: One of the things I keep asking or trying to get a feel for, did—and I think you hit on it before. Did Gresham Meggett—I think you talked about it in terms of the teachers. Did they have a philosophy that set them apart, the teachers, the people there, to make sure people got on the right footing, whether it’s college, whether it’s vocational, did—was there a major—and I think you have answered this by talking about the teachers themselves and how they treated everybody was their child.
CSR: Yeah, exactly.
MBR: I think that’s what you were kind of getting at.
CSR: Exactly. Yes.
MBR: Yeah. Which I think is really beautifully said. Because it sounds like you were nurtured there.
CSR: Yes, very much so. Yes, I agree. That’s the right word. Yeah, I was nurtured there. Right. It didn’t make a difference who you were, you know. And as long as you gave the impression that you wanted to learn, they were willing to sacrifice. And they used to sacrifice because sometimes they would stay after school to ensure that you had an understanding of this particular thing that maybe you didn’t get in class, you know. So, yes, they did nurture us.
MBR: How about the women as teachers? Were they mentors? They were professional women.
CSR: They were.
MBR: Was that eye opening to kids going to school there that African American—
CSR: Uh-uh [negative.]
MBR: No, it was just expected.
CSR: No. It just was expected; yeah.
MBR: It was expected. Okay. Very nice.
CSR: Yeah, it was expected.
MBR: After you left in ’63, what did you do after graduation?
CSR: After graduation, I moved to New York—did I move to New York or D.C.? No, I moved to Washington D.C., and I stayed with my Aunt Alice, went to work at McBride’s for about two years as a clerk and then a cashier, and then worked in the business office, counting proceeds at the end of the day. And then, after that, I got a job with the federal government doing particular work. And then after that my mother got sick, and I came back home.
MBR: You came home?
CSR: Yeah, I came home in 1965. Was it ’65 I came home? No, I came home in 19—she died in ’63, so I came home before then.
MBR: And you’ve been here ever since?
CSR: Yeah, I’ve been here ever since. Yeah. I’ve been here ever since.
MBR: Okay.
CSR: I worked at the shipyard for 30 years, and then retired from there, and retired from the shipyard April 1, 1966.
MBR: What did you do at the shipyard?
CSR: I was in the supply department. Did everything that they—every position that there was, duty officer, supervisor, yeah.
MBR: Neat. Well, I appreciate you talking with us.
CSR: Sure.
MBR: Because we kind of want to get the essence of what was there at W. Gresham Meggett in the context of the times, and we’re learning through everybody we talk to it’s different for everybody.
CSR: Exactly.
MBR: There’s no one story.
CSR: No, very true.
MBR: I love that you came back. Actually, two years after leaving—after graduation, and got into the shipyard and that became a career, I guess.
CSR: Yeah, it did. It certainly did. Yeah.
MBR: A good workplace?
CSR: It was, and close.
MBR: Did they treat you fairly?
CSR: No. I had to file a lawsuit with the EEOC in Washington D.C. because of unfair treatment. When I came back, I was—put in my application. I was hired as a card punch operator. I was hired with the understanding that—we’re going to hire you for the nightshift. And the first time that there’s an opening on the dayshift, we will transfer you to the dayshift. I guess that was my other experience with segregation, a big experience with segregation.
Of course, time went on. Within a year, there was an opening on the dayshift. They didn’t fill the opening with me. They didn’t, you know, move me from the nightshift to the dayshift. There was another opening on the dayshift. Someone else left, and they filled that opening also and hired someone else. I’m still on—me and another young lady, Gwendolyn, we were the two on nightshift. We were the two blacks. We were on nightshift. Everyone white was on dayshift.
So after the second hiring of the second person, I went to my supervisor. I didn’t have a supervisor at night. We supervised ourselves at night. I went to the daytime supervisor, Miss Trudy Gaspe [phonetic 01:05:26] and asked her about why is it that they’ve hired two people. I was promised that as soon as a vacancy became available on the dayshift that I would be transferred to dayshift. She said, “Well, the next opening that there is, we’ll transfer you.” I said, “Well, that’s not satisfactory to me. Two have already…” I said, “I need to speak with the next in line.”
So she sent me to Lieutenant Commander Schwartz. [phonetic 01:05:47] I spoke with him. And he told me, he said, “Well, Ms. Roper, the next time that there’s an opening, we’ll transfer you to the dayshift.” I said, “Okay.” So I didn’t say anything. I went home and I wrote me a letter to the EEOC office in Washington. I mailed it to Washington D.C. And within three weeks, there was a group from—they got some kind of communication from Washington D.C.
And the same commander, he came to me and he asked me, he said, “Well, we have visitors here from Washington D.C. in reference to a letter that you mailed to Washington D.C.” And I said, “Yes. I sent a letter to D.C. because I felt that I was treated unfairly. I was promised to be moved to the dayshift and you all said that whenever there was the first opening that you had that you would transfer me today.”
I said, “You had two openings on the dayshift, and you never did even ask me if I wanted to be transferred to dayshift. So, yes.” “Well, why did you bypass the EEOC office here and send your letter to Washington D.C. There’s a process where you should have gone through the—submitted your disagreement to the local EEOC office if we were not able to fulfill your or look at…” I said, “No. Because I knew that you all would not do anything about it, so I just went right to the top to the horse’s…” Well, I use that terminology, “to the horse’s mouth,” where I knew for sure that something would happen.
So evidently, they sent a group down from Washington D.C. and investigated it, my complaint. And as a result of that, the nightshift was abolished because it was not needed. There was no need to have a nightshift. There was enough space on the dayshift that the two blacks that were on nightshift would—so we were transferred—within two weeks, we were transferred from the night—after the—you know, they came and did their investigation, sent their result back.
Within two weeks, we were transferred from the nightshift to the dayshift and that abolished the nightshift completely because it was not needed. But because we were blacks, they just let us sit there on the nightshift. Well, we supervised ourselves, you know. So that was my experience with segregation at the shipyard.
MBR: Hopefully, it improved after that.
CSR: And from that point—after that, I didn’t have any problems.
MBR: No.
CSR: I think it probably went around the mill that, you know, that I wasn’t afraid to write to Washington D.C. And I was promoted to the highest promotion when I left the shipyard. I left as a GS-12.
MBR: Was it Gwendolyn who was with you?
CSR: Yeah. So she was black.
MBR: I’m sure she was happy, too.
CSR: Oh, yes. She was happy, too. Yeah, because otherwise—because she was there when I came. She was on the nightshift when I came. She was the only one on nightshift when I came, so we were the two that were on nightshift, so we both benefitted from that action.
MBR: Right. Sometimes it works.
CSR: Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But I was just lucky that evidently the right person got it.
MBR: Well, we were lucky that you were at church today.
CSR: Thank you. I appreciate you asking me.
MBR: No. Thank you very, very much.
CSR: Now, do I need to sign this somewhere?
MBR: Yes, you do.
CSR: Because I don’t think I signed it.
MBR: You didn’t. Not yet.
CSR: Okay.
MBR: Let me put today’s date on, which I can’t believe is the 20th.
CSR: Already, I know.
MBR: The big thing to note is there are no restrictions or restrictions.
CSR: Okay.
MBR: So basically, these are going to be used for research. We are hoping that they are going to go in the Avery Research Center.
CSR: Oh, good.
MBR: And—up in Columbia. It’s [indistinct 01:09:17]. And the National Park Service will probably keep a copy.
CSR: Sure. Doesn’t matter.
MBR: We will go ahead and make a copy for you and give to you with the transcription.
CSR: Oh, okay. Very good.
MBR: Okay? So you’ll see that.
CSR: Yeah, okay.
MBR: So that’s up to you. You can either write “no restrictions” or “any restrictions,” and we would need your signature at the bottom.
CSR: So “no restrictions” means that I don’t have any restrictions with you all doing whatever you want to do?
MBR: Pretty much; yes.
CSR: Okay. Give you the right to—
MBR: Our intent is to do a good report.
