According to her version of the story, he was overheard delivering this closing line.
"Now it's time to sing one more song and get out of here."
"They tell me the story," Charles said, "but I don't remember anything like that either."
Sometimes the visits to West Virginia took place during the winter. An iron cook stove in the kitchen had to be stoked with wood. Helping fetch wood was the perfect job for a youngster underfoot. Often a treat was the reward and gingerbread was Charles' favorite. (To this day he still gets pleasure from the first bite of hot gingerbread cut from the corner of the baking tin.)
When Charles was eight years old, his father's work took the family south for a year, where Lewis completed a teaching assignment at Edward Waters College in Jacksonville, Florida. While it wasn't common for a Negro to have a higher education in 1927, Lewis was a graduate of Wilberforce College in Ohio, an accomplishment qualifying him for the appointment.
Lewis Sr. moved the children into a little cabin near the edge of town next to a sugar cane field. Cane fields were a place to play after school and the sweet taste of fresh cut cane was an added bonus. Crabs cooking in a tub over a backyard fire left indelible memories, as did Lewis Jr. being kicked by a mule he had the misfortune of following too closely.
Another recollection related to school and was not so pleasant. The Florida schools for Negroes hadn't kept pace with their northern counterparts and as a result, Charles had to repeat the third grade when the family returned to Cleveland.
In 1929, the stock market crashed, beginning economic chaos in America. Back in Cleveland, Lewis continued to be mother and father to children now eleven, nine and seven. Even in the best of circumstances they must have been quite a handful, but now resources were extremely meager and times difficult. Late in the year, Lewis moved on to Chicago, following job opportunities in social work.
Rather than keeping the children with him in the unstable situation they faced, he arranged for them to stay with Hershall and Harriet Harris, who were affectionately called Mom and Pop Harris. They lived in St. Charles, Illinois, about forty miles west of Chicago on the Fox River. By reputation and deed, the Harris’ were good people. Over the years, they had raised a number of children whose parents had been unable to care for them for one reason or another. Hershall worked in a foundry at the edge of town and although there were very few blacks in the area, the Harris’ were long time residents of the community.
Unlike Chicago, St. Charles was a small town providing a safe haven where the children were able to grow and thrive under the watchful eye of the close-knit Harris family. Mrs. Harris’ brother, William Luckett, who was a commercial artist, lived next door. He had a croquet court and thriving apple tree in the yard between their homes. The children had freedom to explore the woods and roam fields for hours at a time, and they took advantage of it, within the bounds set by the Harris’. These bounds imposed real limitations since the Harris’ were known for their strict code of conduct, a reputation which survived into my day.
In addition to their homework, Charles and the other children had regular chores, including mopping the kitchen floor, raking the yard and clearing fallen apples, and keeping their bedrooms straight. Children were to conduct themselves appropriately and know how to address their elders. Good manners were central
to good living and "yes ma’ms" and "no sirs" were expected. There was a price to pay for infractions and "spare the rod and spoil the child" was more than just a motto for foster children as well as natural born Harris’.
Charles’ years in St. Charles spanned third grade through the first year of high school. Because there were so few blacks, the schools were integrated and Charles became more aware of ethnic differences. Walking or riding a bike was the main form of transportation and passing through neighborhoods delivering newspapers gave him the opportunity to learn their distinct make up. Some near the foundry were Polish or of another European extraction. There was name calling occasionally.
"Usually young folks’ mischief," he explained, "but like they say, words don't hurt you."
The St. Charles years passed intermingling strict rules with climbing mulberry trees, riding bikes along the edge of town, skipping stones from the riverbank, and a notable trip to the World’s Fair in Chicago. Lewis and Charles joined the Boy Scouts of America where patriotic values of loyalty, bravery and service, consistent with their Christian upbringing, were strengthened. The quest for personal challenge carried Charles to the ranks of Eagle Scout. From scouting experiences he gained an enduring sense of the importance of brotherhood and service to others before self.
In years to come, Dad would take his family back to this boyhood home to visit the Harris’. On the ride there he told us how they helped raise him and his sister and brother. It was clear he developed a great affection for them, even as he cautioned us to mind our manners before we got out of the car. To this day I remember the story of Ma Harris smacking a girl "silly" for putting red polish on her toenails after being told not to. I questioned the harsh treatment.
"She should have done what she was told," my father replied. If not before, the healthy respect for discipline which served Charles throughout life was nurtured during his years in St. Charles.
During Charles' sophomore year in high school, his father accepted an AME church assignment and moved his children to Keokuk, Iowa. In 1935, The Great Depression was in full force, but the era was not much different from any other for folks who never had much.
"Life was meager all through these years, whether we're talking Ohio, Illinois or Iowa. In Cleveland we always had food, but not a lot of clothes. What we had was always clean and had patches on it put there by Mama Gay, Mrs. Harris or whoever. We didn't have a lot, never had a lot, but were aware that whatever we had was enough."
To a certain extent poverty, like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder.
"We each had a change of clothes...and shoes. I remember putting newspaper in my shoes when I wore a hole in the leather so my feet wouldn't get cold so quickly in the winter time."
It wasn't something that made Charles feel he was on the low end of the social or economic strata. It was just the nature of the times because there was the depression and everybody was suffering along. He knew there were some people who were better off. They had big houses with tennis courts and lived in another part of town, but that wasn't something the McGee family dwelled on.
Neither was racism. Reverend McGee had high ideals and believed in a vision of a world in which people treated each other equally, as brothers and sisters in the sight of God. Not only did he live by this principle, he also passed it on. So, Lewis Jr., Charles and Ruth learned to treat others as they wished to be treated. Ideals set the tone.
It is tempting to believe that being black is the single most defining attribute for a young child in America. What children are led to believe, and more importantly, come to accept about their circumstances, including race and ethnicity, ultimately defines their future.
The reality was most day to day living for Negro youngsters took place separate and apart from mainstream white America. Racial strife was remote for children living among their own people in a closed society. Overhearing comments by adults, they began to conceive of the outside world, but their real frame of reference was closer to home.
That's not to say Charles and other black children were protected from ridicule in their own backyard. Children of all persuasions grasp differences and use them as weapons to gain advantage. Exploitation of differences (height, weight, clothing, accent, background and so forth) is something most people have experienced. Growing up in the black community, being
