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 aims 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 in September 2019 in Charleston, South Carolina by interviewer David Richardson.

David Richardson:      Good morning. I am David Richardson, the interviewer. I’m sitting here with…

Deborah Davis Barrett:           Deborah Barrett.

DR:     Would you please spell that, please?

DDB:  D-E-B-O-R-A-H, Davis, D-A-V-I-S, Barrett, B-A-R-R-E-T-T.

DR:     And your date of birth?

DDB:  2/22/52.

D:     Location of your birth?

DDB:  Charleston, South Carolina.

DR:     Where did you spend your childhood?

DDB:  On James Island.

DR:     Now, when you say James Island…

DDB:  Honey Hill. A little section that’s called Honey Hill.

DR:     Tell me about your family, please.

DDB:  I was raised by my grandmother and my grandfather. I was born to a single mother. And her parents raised me on a section called Honey Hill that’s on James Island here in South Carolina.

DR:     Tell me the—your mother’s name.

DDB:  My mother’s name is Martha Davis.

DR:     And where was she born?

DDB:  She was born here in Charleston, South Carolina.

DR:     Was that also on James Island, do you speculate?

DDB:  She lived on James Island at the time.

DR:     What was her occupation?

DDB:  She was a domestic worker.

DR:     Okay. And your father’s name?

DDB:  My father’s name is Herbert Jones.

DR:     And his occupation? Or what was his occupation? Do you know?

DDB:  He worked as a bellman at the Francis Marion, as I recall.

DR:     The hotel?

DDB:  The hotel.

DR:     Okay. And how many siblings did you have?

DDB:  My mother had five children. My father had ten.

DR:     Do you remember the names of your siblings?

DDB:  Yes, I do.

DR:     Share that with us, please.

DDB:  My mother’s children are Leroy [phonetic 00:02:27] Davis—I was the second-born, Deborah Davis—Frederick [phonetic 00:02:36] Davis, Felicia Blackman [phonetic 00:02:44], and Joshua Davis.

DR:     Where did your parents go to school?

DDB:  My mother went to school on James Island. And, as I remember, it was a little school. I think they called it Three Trees on James Island. When she left James Island, I think in 1957, she went to New York, and she continued her education at the girls’ high school in Brooklyn, because she wanted to obtain her high school diploma. My father went to school in the city of Charleston. I don’t believe he completed high school. And I don’t know exactly what grade—what was the last grade he completed.

DR:     Did your parents emphasize education?

DDB:  Yes, they did. My mother always wanted her children to complete high school. My grandmother and grandfather, whom I grew up with, emphasized education on a daily basis. My grandfather read the Bible every single day. And he would always emphasize vocabulary. So he would always read, and then he would ask us about certain words. So he wanted us to have an extensive vocabulary.

My grandmother, on the other hand, was more of a storyteller, and she would often ask us to read to her. So he was the reader. She was the storyteller, and we would read to her. And then we would have conversations about what we read. She was the one that always said that we needed to have an education; that was very important in our lives if we wanted a better life. So she talked about not only high school but beyond high school and getting a profession.

DR:     Where did your siblings go to school?

DDB:  All of my siblings went to school here in Charleston on James Island. [Note: with the except of Felicia and Joshua]

DR:     What elementary school did you attend?

DDB:  I attended King’s Highway Elementary School. And at the time I recall the—the road was called King’s Highway. I think now they call it Fort Johnson Road. But at that time it was King’s Highway. And it was located on at the time King’s Highway, and I believe it’s still Bluff Road, right on the corner.

DR:     Describe the school faculty.

DDB:  The entire staff was black, including the principal. We had one black teacher that was very fair-skinned and had straight hair, that at the beginning we thought that she was white. But she was a black woman. And when you’re accustomed to everybody being dark-skinned, you assume that they’re all black. But we did not understand that black came in many shades, as white as light white. So she made it clear to all of us that she was very light-skinned, but she was black.

DR:     So she emphasized her African heritage then?

DDB:  She definitely did, because she didn’t want any mistakes made that she was a white woman.

DR:     What was her name?

DDB:  Her name was Miss McCray

DR:     What was the number of students, do you think, at the school?

DDB:  The school went to sixth grade, and if I can think back, if there were at least one class on each grade—six grades, 30 kids. I’d probably say 180, 200, or something like that. I’m just approximating.

DR:     So, can you describe what the faculty was like at the school?

DDB:  They were a group of proud black people. And they emphasized the importance of being a great people. And I could recall one teacher in particular, Miss Sanders. And she taught us a lot about our black heritage that was not in the history books. And as a matter of fact, she told us about the Negro national anthem. And we had to learn not one stanza that everybody learns and recites today and sings. She said we had to learn the entire song.

And when I went to New York, where people felt that New Yorkers were more knowledgeable, I was the only one that knew more about blackness than they did in the North. And they didn’t even know about the Negro national anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” And they didn’t know about all the different stanzas. So I was very proud that I could just say the entire thing. And they said, “Wow, she came from the South, and she knew that.” So I—I had a lot of respect for Miss Sanders, because she taught us so much about ourselves that wasn’t in the history books.

DR:     Can you remember about how many teachers were at that school?

DDB:  Well, there was one for each grade, so that was six teachers. And so I would say, if there was more than one class in a grade—let’s say ten.

DR:     Who was the principal?

DDB:  The principal at the time was—the first principal I recall was Miss Quarles [phonetic 00:10:43]. And the second principal was Mr. Davis.

DR:     Louis Davis [phonetic 00:10:49].

DDB:  Leroy Davis.

DR:     Louis Davis.

DDB:  His name was Louis Davis?

DR:     Hm-hmm. Did you go to school the full year, school year?

DR:     You already stated that your parents or grandparents were actively involved in your education?

DDB:  Yes, very much.

DR:     Were you aware of the difference in—in the race of the school, the school systems, the difference between the two?

DDB:  Yes. Yes.

DR:     How so?

DDB:  I was aware, because the black children were in one school, and it was all black, and the white children were in another school. The black children rode one bus, and the white children rode their bus. And we would see them in passing. The white children would be on their bus, and the black children would be on our bus. So we had a black driver, and he would pick the children up. And if you missed the bus, then you had to walk. So it was important that we got up early every morning and get that bus.

DR:     So you said King’s Highway was an elementary school?

DDB:  Elementary school.

DR:     And where did you attend high school?

DDB:  Well, I was excited when I graduated from King’s Highway Elementary School, because I could not wait to go to high school at W. Gresham Meggett, because the elementary school children were picked up first, and then the high school kids were picked up second. And, once we were dropped off, we can see the bus with the high school kids on it.

And I said, “I want to be on that bus going to the next school,” because this was the small school, and the high school was the big school. And I wanted to be on that bus. So I could not wait until I graduated from elementary to get on that high school bus with all of the big children.

DR:     What year was this?

DDB:  I would say that was about—let’s see, ’57. I guess that was about ’63 or something like that.

DR:     So, ’63 you started attending Gresham Meggett High school? At what grade, approximately?

DDB:  I started in the seventh grade, because when I left the King’s Highway in the sixth grade, I graduated and went to W. Gresham Meggett in the seventh grade.

DR:     Did you graduate from Gresham Meggett?

DDB:  No, I did not graduate from W. Gresham Meggett.

DR:     Where did you graduate from?

DDB:  I graduated in New York City at Grover Cleveland High School in Queens, New York.

DR:     So there was some point in time when you left Gresham Meggett?

DDB:  I attended Gresham Meggett my first year after graduating from King’s Highway in the seventh grade. After I completed the seventh grade, my mother took me to New York. And I went to school in New York. I came back to Gresham Meggett one year in the midyear, because my grandmother was very sick. And then I attended—I came down during the summer one year, and I attended summer school, because they had a summer school session. And I just wanted to be a part of it.

So I attended the summer school session. And then I think in the 11^th grade is when my grandmother passed, and I came about midyear. Well, she was very sick at that time, and I came about midyear, because my mother kept coming back and forth because of her sickness. And then I completed that year, and then I went back to New York and completed high school.

DR:     So you spent almost a year at Gresham Meggett in the 11^th grade?

DDB:  I—or in total I would say I spent two years, my first year and parts, I would say, in total back and forth, coming half midyear, probably two years at Meggett.

DR:     So, what year did you go back to New York to reenter school there?

DDB:  I was—I attended the 11^th and 12^th grade in New York, so it was probably somewhere in the mid-tenth grade or the beginning of the 11^th grade. No, I had already started school in New York, so it was probably midyear of the 11^th grade when I came back.

DR:     How did your experience in—on James Island and the school system prepare you to perform in the school system in New York?

DDB:  First of all, the teachers demanded perfection.

DR:     Where?

DDB:  Beginning at the elementary level.

DR:     In—on James Island?

DDB:  On James Island. They demanded perfection and high standards of learning. And they felt that every child should be equipped to attain those high levels of education. So, in terms of writing, our penmanship had to be perfect. We learned how to print and we learned cursive. And that was the practice, because it was a reflection of the person. And I can remember the teachers stressing to make the curves absolutely perfect.

And the way the work was written on the chalkboard was as if it was written in the books. And that’s the way the teachers taught it. And they made us write on the chalkboard, and we had to practice and practice. And the saying was practice makes perfect, and so we practiced and practiced. And when you came to school with your homework, there better not be any grease on that paper. That paper had to be clean, and the work had to be perfect. And you had to show all of your work. There were no shortcuts. They did not allow shortcuts.

So it was a rigorous thing. And it was reinforced at home, because every single day, once we got home from school, we ate, because food was already—already prepared. And the next thing was to do whatever chores we had to do. And then we had to get the books. Every day you had to sit down at the table, and you had to clear the table. And it was no excuse that the dog got the homework or whatever happened, or something spilled on it.

You did not eat while you were doing the homework, because it had to be perfect. It had to be with perfection. And that’s the way the teachers wanted it. And, if anyone came to school and the papers were wrinkled or there was food spilled on the papers, you had to do it over. And you did it over until you got it right.

So that was a very important skill that I had learned from elementary school. Reading was an important skill that was emphasized. So I was a reader. And I knew how to write. And they stressed how to write, not only penmanship-wise, but how to write perfect English sentences. So those things I was equipped with when I went to New York.

DR:     So that adequately prepared you to perform without feeling that you were—

DDB:  I can compete with any New Yorker. As a matter of fact, I was on the honor roll. So I never at any point felt that I was not prepared or I could not compete. Even though it was always said that New Yorkers were smart, I thought that I was smart when I got there.

DR:     So Miss Barrett, tell me, how did you feel in terms of getting adjusted into that school system, compared to Gresham Meggett?

DDB:  Meaning adjusted to the school system in New York?

DR:     Hm-hmm.
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DDB:  Well, it was the first time that I had gone to an integrated school, because I was accustomed to being in a school where there were all blacks. And, for the first time, I saw children of all different ethnic backgrounds. And, as I sat in the classroom the very first day, I just kept looking around and saying, “Wow.” But they were all children. They were all children. I never experienced any prejudice from any of them.

And, as we looked at the academics, they were not more equipped than I was, coming from South Carolina. So I was very competitive. I was competitive in South Carolina, because we all wanted to be on the honor roll. We all really strived to be the best that we could be, so I was ready to compete with anybody from anywhere.

DR:     So what was the high school you graduated from there?

DDB:  I graduated from Grover Cleveland High School in Queens.

DR:     And where did you go after that?

DDB:  I went to college.

DR:     Where?

DDB:  I went to New York City College for the first term. And then I transferred to Brooklyn College where I completed my BA and went on to get my master’s at Brooklyn College. Then I went on and got my certificate in Administration and Supervision. And in the interim, I did attend Medgar Evers College for one year. And I did some courses in Business at Medgar Evers College.

DR:     Did you work in any period of time after you got your—for a BA? Or you went on and directly to get your next-level master’s?

DDB:  After I got my—my bachelor’s degree, I got a job immediately. And I decided I was going to take a break from school before I got my master’s. I started teaching kindergarten. And then I got a call—

DR:     Did this mean that you were certified by the State of New York to teach kindergarten?

DDB:  Yes. So, after I started teaching kindergarten, I got a call from a friend of mine that was in college, because she continued to go on for her master’s. And she said, “Debbie, tuition just went up.” So, when she said that, I said, “I’ll be back next term.” Because I knew, once tuition started going up, it doesn’t go back down.

And I wanted to get my degree, so I went back to school immediately. I took one-term break, and I went back. And so I completed my master’s within a year, and I began to teach. I left from kindergarten. I started teaching math in junior high school, grades eight and nine. After that, I became dean of students. And after—

DR:     What school was this?

DDB:  This was Junior High School 35 and Junior High School 324. In New York, the schools had numbers in different boroughs. They had names, but they were always recognized by the numbers in the different boroughs.

DR:     Was that because there were so many different schools?

DDB:   There are many. However, numbers are infinite, but you may find PS61 in Brooklyn, and they’ll have PS61 in the Bronx or in Queens. Why, I don’t know. But they were always referred to by numbers, but the Q would indicate Queens and the K would indicate Brooklyn. So they were—

DR:     So the PS means public schools?

DDB:  Public school. And of course the high schools had names. They didn’t have numbers.

DR:     Let’s back up a minute, and tell me, how did you pay for your education?

DDB:  When I was in high school, I knew that my mother could not pay for my education. So I was working from the time I entered high school. I took classes from 7:30 until 12:00, and my lunch hour would be on the bus going downtown Brooklyn to work. And I’d often work from 1:00 to 6:00 after school. So I was saving up all the monies. And at the time, I was selling Avon. I was selling jewelry, handmade jewelry. A friend of mine was making silver bracelets, necklace, earrings. I was selling that. I was doing—

DR:     Where—where did you market these products?

DDB:  I knew everybody. I knew everybody. I made friends with everybody. I talked to everybody. I had a knack of getting to know people in the community, at school. Wherever I was, I would talk to people.

DR:     So you had an outgoing personality?

DDB:  Yes. I would talk to people. So I could market the products. And then when there was a fair, I would take my jewelry out to the fairs, and I would sell them there. So I did do a lot of selling. I sold Amway, Avon. You name it, I was selling it.

DR:     And then much of this occurred while you were also involved in your education?

DDB:  Absolutely. Absolutely. And, fortunately, after my first year, I received—there were grant monies for minorities, and I applied. And that took care of my college expenses for my bachelor’s degree.

DR:     What’s your highest education achievement?

DDB:  My master’s degree that I received. In addition to that, the one that I’m most proud of is the degrees I received in theology from North Carolina College of Theology. I have a bachelor’s and a master’s and a master’s in Counseling.

DR:     Before you—you’re retired now, right?

DDB:  Yes.

DR:     Before you retired, what were the different employment that you practiced over in [indiscernible 00:29:19] after you received your education?

DDB:  After I received my education, I worked in the school system as a teacher of mathematics, as a dean of students, as an assistant principal, and as a principal for 13 years. So, altogether, 33 years in the school system.

DR:     How do you view the educational system now, considering the needs of students?

DDB:  Right now, I don’t think that the needs of students seems to be the priority. Even though we say children first and that children’s education is very important, there are so many things that I think children need in addition to the academics. When I was growing up, we had future teachers clubs. We had all kinds of extracurricular sports. We had vocational training in the school.

I could remember from James Island where we had the 4-H Club. There were the boys I could remember in high school having training in—I believe they were doing the agriculture. They were doing woodworking, welding. They were engaged in training that, if they did not go to college, they could make a living, and a good one. And all of those skills are missing today. And I think it’s so important—

DR:     [Indiscernible 00:31:36]?

DDB:  —because everybody is not—everybody is not—I wouldn’t say—I’m trying to think of the word, but not everybody has a desire to go to college. And so they need to be self-sufficient in some kind of skill that they can offer in this world and make monies independently. And that is missing in the school system.

DR:     So you’re suggesting that most of the curriculum is—pretty much emphasize college education versus that group of people who would probably do best in acquiring certain crafts and skills?

DDB:  I think it’s—college is emphasized for certain groups. I don’t think that college is emphasized a lot for blacks, because today it just isn’t. I think it’s—I remember reading somewhere that an eighth-grade education is all that the government —should give an individual. Or I think that’s the requirement, is an eighth-grade education. I don’t think that it’s emphasized enough, particularly for blacks, to go beyond high school. And in today’s world, you need to be beyond high school.

DR:     So you—so, are you implying that the dropout rate in African America is higher than in other groups?

DDB:  I believe that.

DR:     Do you think that’s a correlation between the population in prison?

DDB:  Absolutely.

DR:     And the race?

DDB:  Prisons are built today based on third-grade skills and achievement overall performance of blacks. They start testing at grade three. What should happen is that children are taught how to read from pre-K, K, to three. And after that, after learning how to read, then they read to learn. They are not given a solid basis for reading in those crucial grades. And whatever is needed that they are lacking, the emphasis is not placed on giving them that extra assistance to go that extra mile. So they are labeled at a very early age. And that’s a major cause for failure.

DR:     Yes. Now let me ask you another question about that. Do you think most children upon entering school has—have a real deep desire to learn?

DDB:  Oh, children have a burning desire to learn when they enter school. Children are so enthusiastic. They are prepared. They want their book bags. They want their pencils. They want their paper. They want all the equipment to start learning, that learning process.

DR:     At what stage did that begin to change then?

DDB:  And when they come in with that burning desire and they get a teacher in grade one or grade two or even grade three that puts their fire out, how do you expect them to go to grade 12? If they come in as burning fires to learn, eager, very enthusiastic, and you get a teacher that just puts their fire out and say, “You can’t, you can’t,” children are like sponges, and they absorb everything. So, when you put that negative word in their heads and you repeat that to them, they think immediately that they can’t.

DR:     So, as an administrator—

DDB:  So, when you say, “You can,” they produce. When you provide the resources and the reinforcement, they produce. When they’re at home and you say they can do it, they do it. You reinforce that.

DR:     Expectation plays a role.

DDB:  Expectations play a great role. They get to school, and they look up to the teachers. Because I could remember my first-grade teacher, and she was everything to me. I’d come home every day and say Miss Chisolm [phonetic 00:37:44] said, Miss Chisolm said. And Miss Chisolm taught me this and Miss Chisolm taught…

The teacher was like a god. The teacher was like God. Everything the teacher said, the teacher was correct. And I would come home, and I’d say to my mom, “The teacher said, the teacher said…” And then my mother stopped me in my tracks one day. And she said, “The teacher may say this, but I am telling you this. And this…” So she said—

DR:     Regained control.

DDB:  She took control to say what is truth, because when you grow up in a world and you figure that this one person has all the answers—and even today, I hear people say, “She’s a teacher. She should know the answer.” So the person would go to that person that they feel has all of the answers and all of the knowledge, particularly the title teacher. But the very first teachers we have are in the home. And, as a teacher, I used to tell my students, “Your very first teacher that you should always respect is your teacher at home.”

DR:     Usually the mother.

DDB:  That’s the mother.

DR:     So, as an administrator, in your years of being a principal and observation of the stage where a child desire to learn began to fade, the teacher plays a role in that?

DDB:  A major role. A major role. And it’s sad—when that failing attitude or that road to failure begins in the early grades, before they can actually be a good reader. And —that [good] reading starts—in third grade they are—they’re reading. They are reading. They should be reading.

And—and if they’re not a reader, and then reading is encouraged at that point, it’s very difficult, unless they begin to get some one-on-one—parents often cannot afford one-on-one tutors—and the other thing is that, in the homes—and we practiced this in my home when I was growing up—the person that was the best reader helped the person who had difficulties reading.

So if my sibling had difficulty and I was a good reader, I had to help my sibling. I helped my cousins. So whoever was a little slow in picking up the skills, we were taught in the home that you had to help the other. So it was reinforced in the home. If one person didn’t know and you knew, you had to teach that other person.

But I would state this. Where the system fails is that, if a child falls behind, enough emphasis is not placed on making certain that the child goals are met academically for certain intervals within the grade. They say “failure” and they place that label on them. And that stigma is attached, it seems, for the rest of their lives, unless someone steps in and make a change in that child’s life that’s very positive.

DR:     Can you, before we close, state your address, your current address, please?

DDB:  My current address is 431 Birch Bark Lane.

DR:     That’s all of it?

DDB:  It’s Lyman.

DR:     Anything else you’d like to contribute before we close this out? Let me—let me be more specific. You seem to have an emphasis and a great appreciation for your early years on James Island at the school system here, where your foundation was set. Why?

DDB:  The foundation is very important. A firm foundation is very important, socially, academically, spiritually. All of those things are important. I think about the scripture that’s saying, you know, do you build your house on sand or on a solid rock? And my foundation was built on a solid rock here on James Island. My grandparents were solid rocks. My grandfather was a very independent man. He didn’t work for anybody. And he instilled in us the importance of having your own. My grandmother never worked in her life—how do we always say [overtalk 00:44:10]?

DR:     Outside the house, you mean?

DDB:  Outside of the house. She never worked outside of the house. My grandfather always provided. And they stressed the importance of being independent, knowing, and learning, and never shutting the doors on education. The teachers that I had in elementary school, I think that they’re—were the best in the world. They always encouraged us to be the green leaf on top of the tree and not the brown leaf on the ground.

And, as a matter of fact, I can vividly remember one of my teachers having a tree drawn in the classroom and putting all of the green leaves on top of the tree. We were all green leaves. All of the students were green leaves. And she would say, “You don’t want your leaf to fall to the ground.” And so we all worked very hard in learning—at that time we called it the three Rs—reading, writing, and arithmetic—and so that we can stay on top of the tree. We wanted our leaves to stay green.

So we worked very hard, and they recognized that and they reinforced that. And that carried on throughout all of my elementary days. And, even when I got to high school, which is the place that I was looking forward to going to after I left King’s Highway, then going to W. Gresham Meggett, and I felt like there was a wealth of education there. And all of the smart, big students were there. And I wanted to be among them.

And when I got there my very first year, the thing that I wanted to do—and it was disappointing, but we don’t know what the future holds or what may happen in our family that would steer us in different directions—but they used to have—the seniors had privileges. And so the freshmen aspired to get to those privileges. You know, it’s like you want that golden apple that they had.

And they were allowed to be on the front lawn and sit on the benches and have conversations and have lunches. And the freshmen were in the back. So it was a journey. You wanted to go from the back of the building to the front of the building. So there were a lot of physical images that gave you that thrust to say, “You know what? I’m going to get there.” You know, “The distance is not far, and I want to get there.”

So I always wanted to get to that front lawn and say, “I’m a senior and I’ve made it.” And, unfortunately, my senior year I ended up in New York City. But that was my goal. But the time that I spent there, I admired those seniors that walked those halls so proudly and tall. Nobody was slumped over. Nobody looked like they had a burden. We ate good in the cafeteria.

DR:     Who prepared the food when you were there?

DDB:  And there was homemade food, I mean, home-cooked food. Miss Addy and all those folks were in the kitchen, and they fed us good. We had fresh vegetables, and we had fish on Friday. Nobody missed getting on the line on Friday. You might miss one of the other days, but Friday—you definitely would not miss a fish day on Friday.

DR:     Who was the principal then?

DDB:  When I got to that school, Mr. Evans [phonetic 00:48:28] was the principal.

DR:     Anderson [phonetic 00:48:29] had left then?

DDB:  He had already left. Mr. Evans was the principal. And he walked that school proudly and—and in the morning, there was always an inspirational message. And there was a club they called the English Club. And a lot of seniors were in that club. So you had to really climb to get into those clubs. There were certain clubs that you had to wait until you got to that level in school to be on.

And I wanted to be in the English Club, because I wanted to make the morning announcements. And I remember hearing Latonia and Roper and Loretta Palmer and those girls and other people getting on that PA system. So there were a lot of things that—a lot of positive images that—that gave you the energy, and you said, “You know what? I want to do that.”

So there were a lot—the students were positive images, you know. The players on the—on the football team, they went out like—I mean, Fighting Eagles. And the girls would—we would be cheering. And we couldn’t wait for the pep rally. All of these things—I don’t even know if the children today know what a pep rally is. And—and we would be all fired up, you know, academically and socially, with all the different activities.

They had the choir. And we supported each other. When something was going on—there was a play—everybody was there. The parents were there with the PTA, and they were doing a lot of things. And I’ll tell you, they were giving us the best. I remember the PTAs when they used to have the tea. And while—though globally they’d probably say we were poor, we never thought poor a day in our lives, because we had fresh food to eat.

We had food every day. And whatever clothes you had, you cleaned it and you ironed it, and it looked brand new. And, when they had the tea, they had the best linen on the tables. And they had the china and the silverware. And you had a table set for a queen or a king. And I think those images last forever, particularly when you are a youngster.

DR:     So I hear you describing that environment. That is very vivid to me also in [indiscernible 00:51:06]. But the piece that has not been mentioned by you or emphasized is the family relationship that existed on the island.

DDB:  That was an important piece as well, because later in my life—you have these sayings that it takes a village to raise a child—I don’t know if everybody experienced the village. But this whole island was a village, because all of the adults knew each other. Everybody was family. Everybody’s treated as family. The doors were open. Now the doors are locked. But back then, the doors were open. Not only physically open, but open to the community. Everyone looked over everyone’s child.

When one person hurt, everybody hurt. Everybody felt it. If somebody got sick, if somebody died, the entire community was silenced in prayer and together, unlike when I went to New York. People die and everybody keeps rolling. Nobody stops. All the action is continuous. Here on the island, whatever happened affected everybody, and everybody worked together.

In the schools, as I was talking about the PTA, how everybody came together, and in the community. And if you went from Sol Legare to Bee Field— I forgot, it was a different name for the Grimball section—Peas Hills down the island or Honey Hill, Green Hill, whatever, and if—a child came in the yard and an older person was there. And the first thing they would say to you, “Who are your parents? Who are your parents?”

And before they even ask you your name, I believe they’ll say, “Whose child are you?” And they communicated with your parents, so you couldn’t say things that were— untrue. But, of course, you would say, “My parent is so and so.” And, immediately, there was a connection there. And they’ll let you know, “I know your momma and I know your daddy.” Or, “I know your ma and I know your pa.” You know, that was the way they—they spoke.

If they had oranges in the house, apples in the house, candy, they shared. So it was a sharing of everything. And they will sit down and they will tell you a story. Or they’ll tell you a little history, or they’ll tell you about your parents and how they know them. And so it was a sharing of knowledge. And they cared for you. If you fell in their yard, they took care of you.

DR:     Let me ask you this question. Did you have to lock your doors when you lived here?

DDB:  No. And that’s—that’s when I—

DR:     When you [indiscernible 00:55:23] when you went to New York, did that change?

DDB:  Very big difference. When we went to New York, we had three or four locks on the door. And the—the windows, the first time I’ve seen they had gates on the windows, you know. And—but here, the doors were open. Everything was open. You lived free as a bird. It was like in the Garden of Eden, so to speak. Nothing was locked up. People were trusting, unlike today.

A lot of those traits from, I would say, the northern states, somehow trickled into the country, because northerners were experiencing drugs and all these things. People here were very naïve about that. So it—these negative things were brought into the island. You didn’t—we didn’t have those kinds of problems. And I think all that stems from the fact that we went from open doors to locked, bolted doors now, security systems, and everything else. And we as a people never lived that way.

DR:     That’s true.

DDB:  We never had any fears of anything. And, today, all of that has changed, you know. But living in South Carolina on James Island, we experienced a lot of things about surviving and growing our own natural fruits, you know, harvesting them, and being able to sit together at the table with family, being able to share with your neighbors, making them family. Everybody was just one big family, one happy family, one happy family.

DR:     Miss Barrett, you sound like you might be a dinosaur.

DDB:  [Laughs.]

DR:     We will conclude this. Thanks a lot.

DDB:  Okay.

DR:     Bye.