very light dramatically increases the likelihood of being singled out, teased and in the worst case ostracized. Charles being light-skinned and no exception was tested at a young age.
In Keokuk the picture began to change. He lived in two worlds, going to a predominantly white high school and living on the "colored" east side of town near his Dad's AME church.
Charles was a good student, prior admonitions and strict regimens already paying dividends. He was active in the school chorus and sports, although an early injury permanently ended his football days. Following an ill-fated tackle, he lay on the bottom of the pile and realized something was wrong. When he tried to stand up, pain made the injury obvious. His collar bone was broken. For weeks one arm was bound to his chest while the fracture mended and when healed a knot remained at the site of the break as a permanent reminder.
Basketball became his sport of choice after the football injury. Charles’ love for music also blossomed during high school years. The French horn intrigued him and orchestral
music was thrilling. He would have loved to play in the band, but the cost of an instrument was beyond his means. His voice on the other hand was free. He chose to participate in school chorus, an affinity increased by attraction to a lovely dark skinned girl who was also a member. Charles walked her home once, but as fortune and the girl's parents would have it, their relationship was short-lived.
"On occasion, I wonder what happened to her, " Charles acknowledged wistfully, a strain of music echoing from the past.
According to Charles, dating was different in the 1930s. There was little one on one or even double dating in his crowd. Young people usually did things in groups. A boy and girl may have an eye on each other. The two may even exchange a Christmas card or present. Virginia Tolliver was Charles first real date, a walk home from school. He liked her a lot. She liked him too, but her folks thought her too young for such “goings on.” Although their lives went separate ways, Charles never forgot her.
On hot summer days everyone, white and black, would go to the park for an outing. Blankets would be spread under a big shade tree. People enjoyed jumping into the muddy Mississippi River to cool off on a lazy afternoon.
"If you put your feet down you could feel all the muck, so you'd just jump in the water and start swimming. There wasn't much standing around."
The process of understanding how his race made his life different was under way by high school. Charles’ early education, with few exceptions, took place in predominantly white schools. The number of blacks in St. Charles and Keokuk was so small, all youngsters attended the same school. It was not a conscious attempt to integrate the races; it just wasn't economically feasible to segregate them. Prejudice manifested itself in both overt and subtle ways, neither of which escaped his attention nor that of the other black students.
"Oh sure there was racism," Charles observed without rancor. "There was prejudice in the town, because the town had a theater and you (Negroes) had to sit in the balcony."
About name calling, "Sometimes I'd be called nigger boy by kids on the street."
There were white students who befriended him only to be advised against it by less tolerant classmates. There was the inevitable caution.
"You don't need to get so buddy buddy with him."
Afterwards, no more invitations were extended to join in after school games or outings.
Closing of ranks when the wall of segregation was breached was not an isolated phenomenon. Social interaction could be a precursor to intimacy and, therefore, threatened carefully erected barriers and raised anxieties. “Well meaning” proponents of social order often interceded to keep things from going too far for the "good of all. "
In reality these were patronizing acts of racism. Lessons passed down for generations in the McGee family dictated Charles endure them with quiet dignity. So he turned a deaf ear and kept his feelings to himself. By not confronting their racist attitudes, he showed the boys more respect and common regard than they afforded him. Each incident shaped his consciousness and set the stage for future encounters in which he would not be acquiescent.
In many ways, it was easier for Charles to disregard the more blatant verbal assaults and social snubs than the racial biases in the educational system itself. Despite his outstanding performances, there were occasions when Charles did not get the recognition due him. Whether it was getting second place in the speech contest or the citizenship award he didn't win, the bias was sometimes so obvious that even white kids commented.
"You should have gotten first place. Probably the only reason you didn't is because you're Negro."
Other times it would be the solo part not considered appropriate for a colored student.
"In those days, good hearted whites would try to find a part that might be more 'typical,' so black students could participate in this type of thing (plays or chorus)."
Charles was more troubled by displays of unfairness in school. Any discrimination is disturbing, but name calling by a stranger on the street can be more easily dismissed as ignorance.
"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me."
Education was supposed to be the path to a better life. Charles' betrayal in the very institution he had been taught to revere was a particularly bitter pill. In swallowing it, it is understandable he too could become bitter and resentful. Charles, however, would not.
Perhaps his resilience stemmed from the affirmation he received from Mama Gay, the discipline instilled by the Harris’ or his father's religious teachings that all God's children are created in his image and equally important. Maybe it was his own inner voice that wouldn't make room for self doubt, but some how he was able to put these racist experiences into a larger perspective. Rather than destructive forces, they became building blocks developing his strength of character. A chip on his shoulder would not advance his cause.
Two years later in 1937, he returned to Chicago.
Charles' last year in high school was a solitary time. After years of being widowed, Lewis Sr. had taken a second wife, Luvinia, who like Lewis was involved in social work. The introduction of Luvinia came as quite a surprise, if not to the family who lived so long without a mother in the home, to me and my brother and sister who had never known of a second (actually first) step grandmother. Dad, always the gentleman, was uncharacteristically vague about her short tenure and ultimate fate.
"I don't know what actually happened to her," he reflected. "Her life style was not very compatible with that (expected) of a minister's wife."
Obviously, she did not share some of the McGee values.
I probed to learn more about this newly introduced, albeit short-lived, member of the family.
"Well, as I recall, she did like to drink after a day's work. She started on a bottle of beer.... I just know when Dad left Chicago and went to Gary, she didn't go. We lived on Michigan Avenue near 55th Street (Garfield Boulevard and Michigan) not far from Dusable High School. She had her room (in the apartment) and some evenings I would see her. Dad was back and forth (between Gary and Chicago), but not around enough for me to know exactly what was happening.... They didn't divorce at that time, but it was obvious it was not going to work. I was really kind of on my own, fighting the battle to do well and stay in school."
Enough said.
Lewis Jr. was away at Wheaton
