felt she’d just live forever. Why should a legend die? Why should the passionate and powerful queen of my youth die? I felt her death disconnect me from my past. I felt abandoned and on my own even though I hadn’t seen her in more than ten years. Elaine’s family—the Logans—offered their sympathies and her father, Reverend Logan, even snuck me a drink of whiskey out of an oddly shaped brown bottle from some secret location. I cried while I washed dishes and wrestled with my thoughts. Later, I went for a long walk with Elaine. I tried to share with her the meaning of my Great-Grandmama Laura Mae’s death. She had been the foundation, the bedrock of our family, and now it felt like we’d lost our mooring.
I STARTED WRITING POETRY IN MY SOLITUDE. I WASN’T very good, but I found a way to express my pain. I continued to spend a lot of time away from home and joined the after-school creative writing club. James Baldwin was all the rage then, and I read all his writings. His voice echoed my sentiment on national issues concerning race and power. It was whispered that he was gay, and I wondered how he could be such a great writer and be gay. I really didn’t know of any other gay people or writers. According to the church, being gay was a sin. It seemed like even thinking too openly about being gay was a sin. I wondered if Baldwin had already done what I wanted to do. If he were around, I could ask him what it felt like to be with another man. What it would be like to take a man out on a date, to make love, to talk on the telephone. I wondered if I’d ever know. If he was openly gay, did he have a special friendship ring from another man? Did they live like a couple? How did people treat them? I knew he used to preach. What did God have to say about all that? Was he still a Christian?
In the creative writing class, beyond reading novels and essays, we read our own work in class and offered polite criticism. I was too sensitive to talk or write in any real depth about my emerging sexuality or the racism I had experienced. I did write about my family and my estrangement. I could talk about that.
I didn’t date very much, just enough to keep the guys from teasing me. Just like Hiawatha had said, I was very popular because of my singing and girls seemed to be constantly trying to get my attention. I was set on being a virgin when I married and dating cost money; I preferred to spend my money on music. I was in love with the new black prima donna soprano Leontyne Price, and I bought my first opera recordings of her and William Warfield singing duets and arias from George Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess. For the most part, I avoided those insistent girls and kept to my buddies and my studies.
I studied regularly with Professor Gould and began to prepare myself for a liberal arts education with a major in music. Ron often asked me if I wanted to teach music, but he made it clear that I was good enough to be a performance major. My high school music teacher, Mr. Miller, echoed that opinion. I was good enough to be a member of the boys’ octet, which performed at school and throughout the community. I considered this valuable experience training for my career, and I took the responsibilities very seriously. Mr. Miller would often turn the choir or the tenors over to me to teach song parts. I didn’t play the piano very well, but I could always play the tenor part in anthems and hymns. I would check the lax or marginal boys who were there often just for show. Even though I developed a good sense of humor, I took myself very seriously when it came to learning music. Many kids knew it and groaned when I took over the choir. Privately, Mr. Miller used to talk to me about taking it easy with the guys. But when he wanted the job done, he called on me. He often told me that I was better at teaching music than he was because I sang all the parts. I set the bar pretty high for the other students and showed them that if they were serious about singing, we could have the best choir in the state. When we went to the National Association of Teachers of Singing, Inc., (NATS) state singing contest in Columbus, Ohio, we received the highest rating every time. That kind of success was infectious, and many of the students tolerated my strictness because they liked the acclaim. I also got the highest rating for my solo singing.
DURING MY SENIOR YEAR, THINGS CAME TO A HEAD FOR me with my stepfather at home. I had the habit of sneaking out of the house on evenings to attend performances at Stambaugh Auditorium. My parents’ refusal to permit me to attend these exciting events seemed arbitrary to me. Most of my friends could go, and I felt resentful that I couldn’t. There were touring opera productions or the Youngstown Symphony Orchestra in concert. These were very wholesome events and a great joy to me. One day when I tried to sneak back into the house without disturbing my parents, my stepfather was waiting for me. It seemed I had been missed early on after I had left, and no one knew exactly where I was. My stepfather didn’t say very much, but the look in his eyes told me how much he disapproved. He began to beat me with a belt; I suffered under his vicious blows until he was finished. I just stood there; I didn’t cry out or try to defend myself. The worst part was my mother never raised an objection. As I went to my room, I decided I would leave home. I was too old for this kind of humiliating discipline and would not allow myself to be treated this way again. For several months I could feel the physical effects of that beating. I didn’t have a clue where I would go, but I had had enough of him and that house.
I spoke to my buddy Elaine of my dilemma, and her reaction was fast and helpful: “Come stay with us! My mom and dad love you, and I’ll explain to them what happened.”
The next day, Elaine said that her parents wanted to talk with me after school. I was so nervous that I almost didn’t go, but Elaine insisted. Her parents were in their fifties and seemed more like grandparents to me than parents. They were kind and patient and listened to all I had to say. It occurred to me that Grandmama Laura Mae might look like Mrs. Logan . . . and I liked her even more for that reason. She seemed to be very wise and never in a hurry. Elaine was lucky to have a mother like that.
We discussed the circumstances of my family situation thoughtfully. It was finally agreed that I would bring my things on Saturday and become a member of their family for as long as I needed to stay there. Elaine would come by in the car. For the first time in months, maybe years, I began to relax. I slept that night knowing I would soon be free of the anxiety and stress that had become my daily family life.
When Saturday came, I got up early, gathered my things together, and stayed out of sight of my parents. I kept watching and listening and kept the door to my room closed. I turned on the radio to cover any noise. Dinah Washington was singing “Unforgettable.” Nobody seemed to notice anything unusual. I prayed that they would leave the house before Elaine arrived so that I wouldn’t have to fight or explain where I was going. After a while, I finally realized that their voices were gone. I heard the car drive down the side of the house and out to the street. I ran to the bathroom to see them turn left and head off. I instinctively felt that they would be gone for a while. I quickly called Elaine. Mrs. Logan told me that she had already left to pick me up. What timing!
Life in the Logan household had a really different energy and shape than our house. Everyone went to bed early—no exceptions! Everyone got up early because Mrs. Logan said so. She never called to me twice. I didn’t want to do anything to change my good relationship with her. So I went to bed early and got used to being awakened whenever she called. However, I was rarely up before I had to be. I liked my sleep, but I also liked the attention. It was like someone wanted me to get up and be with them and share in family things. I ate breakfast with the whole family. Whatever Mrs. Logan cooked was fine with me. I helped cook and often washed the dishes. It was the least I could do considering how kind she was to me. Elaine’s brother and sister were happy with this arrangement! There were no loud voices or fights. I seriously wondered if Reverend and Mrs. Logan ever had an argument. To me, their relationship was perfect. I was always treated fairly and kindly by everyone, including Prentiss, their only son, and Malvina Louise, their youngest daughter, who was quite a live wire. She loved popular music as much as I did, and we used to listen to Motown in secret.
There was no smoking, no drinking, and no dancing. Mrs. Logan had laid down the law. I was given my
