Interview with Lonnie Harbin, June 17, 1977

Marsha Bruggman: This is Marsha Bruggman. This is Thursday, July 7, 1977. We're at the Parkland Branch Library, and this afternoon we're interviewing Mr. Lonnie Harbin, who's a long-time resident of the Parkland area. Mr. Harbin, can you tell me when you were born -- what year?

Lonnie Harbin: Nineteen-eight.

MB: Nineteen-eight. OK. What was the date?

LH: October the 12th, 1908.

MB: What were your parents' names?

LH: Ada Harbin and Frank Harbin. Tw--

MB: Where were you b--

LH: Twelve children to this -- ten children to the family. And all of them's dead but me.

MB: Oh, my.

LH: Yeah.

MB: Where you the youngest child?

LH: Yeah, I was the baby, yeah.

MB: Ah, you were the baby.

LH: Twelve-pound baby when I was born.

MB: You're kidding! Oh, good heaven. Did your mother have--all her babies were big?

LH: Yeah, well, no -- they was normal. Everybody was... Back then, a 12-pound baby was considered a healthy baby, but today they doesn't have that...

MB: Yeah. Where were you born; at home, or in a hospital?

LH: At home. A midwife --

MB: Where'd your family live?

LH: We was at Atlanta, Georgia.

MB: Oh, and your mother had a midwife in to help.

LH: Yeah. Back in those days. But later, we moved here, when I was four years old.

MB: Why'd you move to Louisville? Or why'd your family move?

LH: Well, we had some relatives here. And after my father died, then we moved here. And my aunt lived 3622 Hale. Everybody knew her as Aunt Sue, and she cared for more people, and helped more ministers on their way up. All they had to do 2:00was say they was working for the ministry and they'd go then... They could stay, and eat, and sleep, and she never charged them a nickel. But she believed in that work. And when we came, we lived 3622 Hale, and she lived 3622 -- 28 Hale, right next to --

MB: Was she your mother's sister?

LH: Father's sister. Father's sister.

MB: Oh, OK. But did your mother move with you and the other children up here to be by this Aunt Sue?

LH: Yes.

MB: What'd your father die of, when you were so young?

LH: Well, I think that he had a heart condition. I think. I just remember I was quite young at the time.

MB: You were four when you moved into the Parkland area, then?

LH: Yeah. And then, I went to school at Virginia Avenue, there at 34th -- 36th and Virginia. Well, it's a big school there now, but when you went to the fourth 3:00grade, you had to go to Phillis Wheatley School, which was 16th and St. Catherine. And we had to walk from here, down to 16th and St. Catherine.

MB: Wow.

LH: The school after you got to the fifth grade. And they had...

MB: Who were you saying -- you were saying something interesting before we turned on the tape about who had started that Virginia Avenue chur-- school. That wasn't always in existence, was it?

LH: The school, then -- but the big school was George Hill. He was instigative of getting the school to go past the fourth grade. In other words, we had to walk from Parkland, all the way to 16 and Saint Catherine to complete your eighth grade. After you passed the fourth grade down there, then you had to walk up there -- go there to get the rest of the eighth grade, common school.

MB: So this Mr. Hill made is possible, then, for everybody to go ahead and stay 4:00at Virginia Avenue?

LH: Yeah. He got the committee together and got the people together and signed, and we got a school down there where we wouldn't have to walk that far. And he was a pretty well-thought-of person in the neighborhood. He had the grocers, he had the ice wagon, and then he had the taxes service -- used to be out of 7th Street Station. Him and his son. And he would put well up on these kind of things, and he went forward for the people.

MB: It does seem kind of unreasonable to think that children that little would have to walk that far to go to school. That's quite a way out of Parkland.

LH: Yeah, we thought nothing about it, walking. Those that had bicycles rode bicycles. We'd all meet going up Grand -- everybody'd get here about the same time, and we'd get to school about 20 after 8:00. You had to be there at 8:30.

MB: Were a lot of your other brothers and sisters were -- were a lot of your other brothers and sisters right around your age? I know you were the youngest, 5:00but did you have a whole group of older brothers and sisters who went ahead and walked on to school with you, and this kind of thing?

LH: Yeah. Well, they did. And then -- they all walked to school, and then when they finished they went to Central High, which was at 8th and Chestnut then. And it's been torn down -- a new Central built.

MB: That's quite a walk too, from the Parkland area. Did you go Central?

LH: Yeah.

MB: What year did you graduate from Central?

LH: Well, I didn't graduate from Central. I graduated in 1924 -- '26. And then I graduated from night school in '27.

MB: What other kinds of things can you remember about your early school years, say at the Virginia Avenue School? Do you remember much about the way the teachers were? Of course, it was an all-black school.

LH: Yeah.

MB: Do you remember anything about whether the discipline was real strict?

LH: Yeah, the discipline was strict then, and you had very good order. Because a person knew, if you got out of line, the teacher had the privilege of giving them a whipping, send him home, or whatnot. And at that time, they was pretty strict and boys obeyed their parents, and they obeyed the teachers. They didn't have much trouble like you do today. You didn't have to expel anybody from school, and then you knew if you'd done wrong, and went home and told your parents, you got a whipping at home. (laughter)

MB: You couldn't win, huh?

LH: You couldn't win. So that made them all stay in line.

MB: Was it pretty -- well, of course now, your daddy was dead, but what would that have meant to your mother? Was she pretty strict?

LH: Oh, yeah.

MB: With 10 children, I bet she had to be, didn't she?

LH: Oh, but those times, people was strict. And then your next door neighbor... if he saw you doing something, he was capable of whipping you, too -- you didn't have to ask to -- to get him back in line. And he would tell the parents, see, and the parents had to -- well, then they had the privilege, you know... And I think it made better people, back then, those days. We thought we got whippings unnecessary, but at the same time, I believe that today I appreciate them.

MB: Right. Did your -- was your education important to your mother? Did she want you to go to school?

LH: Yeah, yeah. Well, I wanted to be a doctor. And I was pretty well up on 8:00medicine, stuff like that, you know; human anatomy. So I worked and I went to school and... You know how boys are those days, they get to making good little -- little money and then they... Well, I go two weeks later, after school starts, and that's when I dropped out, see? But later I went on and finished up in night school. And at that time, money went way -- a long distance. You could buy most anything for a little money. So money was a problem, and we just -- we had a pretty good living, see. I mean, we didn't want for anything. We raised a garden, and we had stuff to feed to people, and feed us, too, see, because she really believed in being economy.

MB: Your mother did?

LH: Yeah.

MB: Did she work outside of the home, or...?

LH: No, she --

MB: She managed all ten children.

LH: Managed the children. Well, when the boys got larger, they go to working in the factories, see?

MB: And helped her out, then?

LH: Yeah, and they helped her out. And then, I had a brother; he went to the service in 1917. And he could have been exempted from going to service, on account of helping the mother out with the children. But he went on and they got -- we managed by a different one working, you know? Boys had gotten big enough to work then, see?

MB: Did you ever remember as a kid -- especially since you were the youngest one -- were you ever aware that you were doing without anything? Did you feel like it was awful hard to make it without a dad to work?

LH: No, she was a pretty good manager. And the brothers -- there was seven brothers and three girls -- and we all done... The girls, they worked out in service, and the boys, they all picked up a job. One fellow worked at -- one 10:00brother worked at the [cooper?] shop, I guess somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 years.

MB: Wow.

LH: He started young and just continued to work for them. Then he died in 1917. The influenza struck part -- struck the whole United States. And I had one brother and one sister that died within 30 days.

MB: Wow, they must have been fairly young people, even then.

LH: Yeah, they was -- I forget -- they were grown, but they died 30 days apart. Well, people was just dying quite often then, see, that was just epidemic. And when they was buried, they was buried in Greenwood Cemetery. And one was buried in front of the other and we had one row between them, right behind each other. 11:00That's a coincidence that that happened, see? In those days we had doctors, and... I guess they done the best they could, but they wasn't aware of the thing that we have today, and know as much.

MB: Even now influenza can knock people really low, and an epidemic -- it must have been awful.

LH: It was. People was dying quite often.

MB: Did most of the rest of your sisters and brother live to adulthood, though?

LH: Yeah, everybody lived to adulthood.

MB: The rest of the -- besides the -- these other two were young adults, but they died of influenza.

LH: Yeah.

MB: Then what happened to your other brothers and sisters, out of this large family?

LH: Well, gradually they all died, one at a time, in a space of -- oh, I guess 60 years. I had a brother die last year. So, that was the end -- just the two of us until then.

MB: Wow. How many years ago did your mother pass away?

LH: She passed in '45. Then she passed with a stroke. She was out in the yard, getting ready to go to church on Sunday, and she walked out to get the eggs out of the henhouse. People raised chickens back in those days -- you didn't know what a frozen chicken was then. (laughter) And the chicken taste better. And then at that time, people would put a chicken up, that they were going to kill for to eat. They put him up two weeks and let him eat corn.

MB: Oh, so fattened him up?

LH: Yeah, and then they say that cleaning him out of the filth that they pick up off the ground. You put them up in what we call a coop.

MB: Oh, right, so you isolated them and fed them better stuff -- fattened them up and cleaned them out.

LH: And then, they'd clean them out, and the chicken tastes better then. And she come back in --- she got the eggs and came back in the house -- and she fell on the way coming into the house. I had one brother to die in his sleep. He was -- 13:00oh, he complained a little bit, but back then the doctors was so far between, and he just didn't go to the doctor. And we found out his heart had beat -- stopped beating that night, see? The next morning, he was dead. He worked at the cooper shop, too. And they used to ride bicycle back and forth to work, and they said that had a tendency to help people out then, too. Give them exercise.

MB: Right. Not only was the work harder, but you had a little physical exercise getting to the work.

LH: Yeah.

MB: Oh, gosh. Well, you moved into the Parkland area when you were four, so that 14:00would have been about 1912. What do you remember about the area when you moved in here? You were talking about -- something about the dirt roads and stuff. Was it country?

LH: Yeah, it was -- oh, it wasn't built up like it is now. You could stand -- a lot of space. Now, they used to have circuses -- where [Tube Turn?] is now, 28th and Broadway? Well, the circus used to come to town, about five or six times a year. And when they wasn't there, people used to heard the cows. One family over there, 34th and Kirby. Polders. They used to carry the cows across the street, all the way over there where Tube Turn is now, and let them feed, and bring them back at night. They didn't have little chains on them or nothing, just a bunch of cows.

MB: And of course, that's the middle of the city now. That's hard to believe! Oh, goodness.

LH: Yeah. And all these circuses used to come and they'd go up Broadway to 2nd Street, down Main Street. At that time, Main Street was a pretty good street. 15:00And then, they come back in and circle all the way around, and come back to 28th and Broadway. And that drew the crowd. And they'd have terrible crowds. They had nights, you know, where they had two performances -- 2:00 in the evening and 6:00 at night.

MB: Do you remember going to the circus when you were a kid?

LH: Oh, yes. We used to go... (laughter) Well, one thing, we used to go over there in the... See, that's where everybody -- when the circus was in town, everybody would go there, and all the boys around the corner, where we hung out -- circus in town -- and sometimes, they'd go over there, and they'd let one of the boys ride the elephant head through the circus, and all like that. And then you would go -- then you'd help them to set up the tents. They had people for that, but they would cre-- get the other boys, and of course, they'd get it up faster. And then they'd give them a ticket so they could go into the circus.

MB: So you got over there, did a little odd jobs and stuff, and that earned your way in.

LH: And earned the way in.

MB: So the area was pretty country and everything.

LH: Oh, yeah.

MB: Where'd the roads -- what were the roads like? Where'd the roads -- the city roads end?

LH: Well, the city roads really ended at Orleans -- what is Dumesnil now -- that was city limits then. And that's something else -- they changed names from -- during '17, '18. They changed names from Bismarck to Hale Avenue.

MB: Oh. And Dumesnil was Orleans?

LH: Dumesnil was Orleans.

MB: And that was the city limits, so anything south of that was country. [overlapping dialogue] Gosh, that's hard to believe.

LH: Yeah, that was the city limit at that point.

MB: And it goes out for miles now, almost to Fort Knox.

LH: And where the Cotter Homes and Southwick Homes was farms. Used to be a man Raymond Rheinstadler and -- I can't think of the -- several of them. We 17:00used to go out there and pick potatoes and onions and beans and things like that as kids. And then we earned our money and then we come on back in, we had our spending money. Worked about a half a day and then we'd come on back.

MB: And that's out -- those little farms, then, were out where the Cotter and Lang housing projects are now?

LH: Yeah. That's right.

MB: Wow. Now what was the name of the street that you and your mom moved in on at first? What was the name of it?

LH: Hale.

MB: On Hale. Now --

LH: It was Bismark, then, but they changed Hale.

MB: Have you lived on Hale all your life?

LH: No, I've been all over Parkland all my life. But I've only been out of Parkland one time, and that was in the project. Beecher Terrace: I moved there for 11 years. And left there in '51, and I came back to 1117 38th Street. I 18:00built on the house my sister -- of course, she was dead; my nice lived there then. And I build some rooms on the back then, and put a bath in. And then I bought another house on Hale again -- 3506 Hale --

MB: Right, now, that's where you live now, isn't it?

LH: Yeah. And I lived about four doors down -- that was on Hale. Then lived 38th and Hale. Then I lived 3816 Grand; lived 3506 Grand; 3402 Grand...

MB: Where in Parkland haven't you lived? (laughter)

LH: Then I lived 4002 Grand. Then I lived on Greenwood -- 3513 Greenwood, I 19:00believe it was. Then I lived on Kirby -- 3616 Kirby. And I moved from there -- that was right after the flood -- and I lived 340 -- 11 -- 1102 34th Street, that's right at Hale again. And I was there when the flood come, and the water come out of the cesspool -- I mean, out of the -- corner of the street. And it come up to the second window. Now I was working in the Willow Terrace apartments. And so I left and went, when the water come up... I had a big tall yard. It had some steps from the street. And then when you got to the porch, you 20:00had three more steps. I said, "Oh, don't worry about the water." I said, "When it comes up past this yard," I said, "I'd begin to worry." So they was sticking some matches there to see that this water -- how much it was rising. And so I went on to work that night. I worked at Willow Terrace, and Samuel L. Metz owned that at that time. And I was night man and I had charge of pass key to everybody's apartments, see -- there, and over at the Dartmouth, too. So he said, "Well, you get there any kind of way you could and we would pay your cab fare one-way." So I went on and I got there. That morning about 2:00 they called me. I said, "You're all just excited." I said, "Go back and go to sleep. The 21:00water going to rise a little bit, but it'll go down." Because I'd never experienced that. Then 4:00 they called again: "You must come home. This water is rising awful fast." Well, I called my boss and he gave me some overshoes and called the cab and I rode 28th Street as far as Garland. He brought me from Willow Avenue -- 1416 Willow -- down here. And he cut the cab up -- cut the meter off right here at 28th and Virginia, and he couldn't get across Virginia. And he went these cross-streets out 28th Street to see where he could get. And he got down Garland to 32nd Street, and that's as far as he could go. And I crossed -- I got out and paid him and crossed people's yards and got home. And then they started moving out -- everybody was moving out. They had trucks to come so that we moved out -- got the majority of our stuff out. And then I had a sister, Laurel, she lived at 7th and Walnut. They lived 2nd floor. The kids, 22:00they went up -- they had two of them -- and one stayed with us. So we went to Newburg, what's -- is Foster -- Forest Baptist Church, used to be. And we stayed there. I stayed there one night then I called in, and one of the fellows that lived at -- Mr. [Glogar?] lived in the apartment where I worked -- he came out and got me. And we spent six weeks up there on the 8th floor where no water wouldn't get there. But wasn't the water around us up there, see?

MB: Right. How far did the water get up on your house, then? Did it come up all that --

LH: Second floor.

MB: On the second floor?

LH: It got all the way up to the second window -- halfway up the second window.

MB: Clear up that big yard, all those steps, up the porch, and up to the second floor.

LH: Yeah, up there.

MB: How much damage did it do to your house, then?

LH: Oh, the damage. (laughter)

MB: Was there anything left (overlapping dialogue; inaudible)?

LH: It was -- the house was OK. It had to be cleaned -- the mud had to be cleaned out and dried out. But all the other stuff we just had to throw out. You know, like washing machines and Victrolas and things like that. They had to throw all that -- water got in it.

MB: That's awful. How'd you ever clean it up?

LH: Well, we just had to clean ever so often -- clean so much each day.

MB: Oh. People said the mud was so bad.

LH: It was. Mud had settled in there, and of course, us not going back for six weeks made it worse because the mud had dried out, and made it hard. So we labored and got around there and had the house papered and cleaned up. Finally got back, but I soon moved to Beecher Terrace after that. (laughter) I moved -- stayed about six weeks... then about six months. And then Beecher Terrace had 24:00the second openings, moving in. One bunch moved in in September, and I moved in in October. And from then on, I stayed in Beecher Terrace for 11 years, and come back to Parkland.

MB: Let me pick back up -- I want to come back to some of these other later years, but let me pick back up to when you were a child in the Parkland area. I want to ask you about -- see if you remember about some things. What about ice wagons? People talked a lot about having refriger-- having ice boxes in, not having refrigerators. Remember anything about the ice wagons?

LH: Well. Oh, yeah, I worked on one.

MB: Oh, really?

LH: I used to work for this fellow, Percy [Curry?]. And Henry Lee... Of course, George Hill, I didn't work then... At that time, they had ice boxes which will remind you of a refrigerator today, but where we have a freezing unit, you put your ice up there.

MB: Big, like, block of ice.

LH: Fifty-pound -- 50-pound block. If you had a bigger one, you'd put a hundred-pound. And then you put that up there in the freezer and then shut your doors. And then on the side you had the shelf, just like a refrigerator today. And it kept for a day or two. Fifty-pound ice sometimes run you two days.

MB: And then, what, it melted a little bit, and then you'd have to buy another one?

LH: You'd have to buy anoth-- it'd melt and... Then, used to have to put a pan under that to catch the water, and if you let the water run over, you'd have to mop it up off of the floor. (laughter)

MB: Never-ending cleanup then, huh?

LH: No. And, of course, then you want to keep, like meats and things, you put in there with the ice, just like you do with your freezing unit on the refrigerator today.

MB: About how old were you when you worked on the ice wagon?

LH: I'd say I was about 10 years old.

MB: You helped on of the ice men?

LH: Yeah.

MB: What -- where'd they get their ice?

LH: Falls City Brewing Company. They made ice then. And every ice wagon would go 26:00over there and get blocks of ice -- three hundred pound to a block. And then you had your ice pick and you cut your hundred-pound. Then they had the hooks and they put a pad on your shoulder, and you carried that hundred-pound wherever you was going. Of course, those smaller fifty-pound, you could -- ice hooks and you pull up on them, they clank in ice, and stick and hold them...

MB: Was it horse and wagon, kind of thing?

LH: Yeah, horse and wagon.

MB: So you go down there, you cut your ice and everything. And load it up.

LH: Yeah. That's -- well, people had a card, and you -- on your route, they'd stick this card up, and on all the folk's homes they had different sizes, see? Now if you wanted fifty-pound, or twenty-five pound, or hundred pound, whatever card it was had a number here and you'd just turn it up. And when he'd come, he'd know what to bring it the house, because he'd see this card in the window.

MB: Oh, so he wouldn't have to go up to the door and say, "What do you want?" And then go back and get it.

LH: Yeah. And then he'd cut it back at the ice wagon and take it on in.

MB: Oh, so he didn't actually cut it then, at Falls City? He brought it out here and then cut it out --

LH: No, he bought it -- he bought it at Falls City in 300-pound blocks.

MB: Oh, I see.

LH: Solid block, 300 pounds. About this wide and about that long. And then you put it in your wagon and just push them all up there and maybe you'd get 15 blocks. And then you'd go out and you'd come back in on your second run in the afternoon, and complete the other part of your route.

MB: So then when you worked on it, you carried it -- carried the blocks in the house?

LH: You g-- you got the blocks in the wagon, and then you cut what the people want on your wagon, and take the ice off the wagon into the house. Say, for instance, you want a 50-pound block -- I say 50-fi-- 50-pound piece -- and the 28:00next person, maybe they want a hundred-pound. Their refrigerator was a little larger than the one the other person had, maybe. And then maybe somebody's economizing, they just buy a 10-cent piece, and they get I think about 25 pounds for 10 cents. And it'd hold them over, then the next day you had to go through the same procedure. And once your box got cold, it kept cold.

MB: So as -- when you worked on the wagon and took the ice in the house, was it your job to load it in the refriger-- the ice box for them and everything? Close it up?

LH: All you done -- all you doing, you could hold it on your shoulder and open the door -- had one of the clamps just like you're opening the refrigerator now. Well, not now, because you got these push-to, but just clip up and open, set the ice in there and come on back. Mark the card, maybe you paid at the end of the week. See, you didn't have pay up a day if you didn't want to.

MB: What kind of money did you make from the ice man for doing that, helping him out?

LH: About $3 a week.

MB: Was that considered good money then, now?

LH: It was considered good money. (overlapping dialogue; inaudible)

MB: Feel like you really had to work...

LH: At that time, postman was making 60 cents an hour. And they thought they was doing good. If you was a postman, you was making good money.

MB: Yeah. Because I remember hearing a lot of people talk about when they got their jobs at the post office. That was quite a big deal.

LH: Yeah. Well, see the big money didn't start until after the war. Then this premium pay started, and that just started running prices on up. But at that time you could get a loaf of bread for a nickel. (laughter) You could get bologna, anything like that -- it was, maybe 10 cents a pound, and all like that.

MB: I can't even imagine. Oh, goodness.

LH: But food back then was much better than it is now; the taste was better. We 30:00lose a lot in preparating -- preparing food to stay a long time, see. And now we got where we put coloring on it, make it look like it's fresh --

MB: You don't know what for sure you're eating; yeah.

LH: -- etcetera. But back then, you got real meat and the cheese and everything.

MB: Well, people grew a lot of their own things, and everything. You knew you were getting stuff fresh out of a garden. Without all the preservatives...

LH: That's right. And then people used to kill hogs back then. They had hogs that they would kill --

MB: Pardon me for just a minute.

MB: ... had hogs that they killed?

LH: Yeah, everybody practically raised their own meat. Everybody had hogs in their backyard. Until they got the law that you couldn't raise hogs in the city. Then you had to move out to the county, which wasn't very far from where we lived, see, about five streets over and you was in the county. And everybody would go around and kill their hogs. Maybe you kill today -- with everybody, 31:00maybe four or five of us go around and kill your hogs. Then you prepare your meat and salt it away, and put it up, see, and had smoke houses. You smoked your own meat just like you do at the stockyard. And you had -- put your meat up and hang it up, and put a bag over it to keep the flies from \ blowing it, see -- what they call blowing it, you know? Flies... keep them way off of it. We had red pepper, and salt and pepper and stuff, would keep the flies away because they didn't like that, see? Then you had a smokehouse, and you had the meat -- you go in there and you could cut a slab off your bacon. And like we have breakfast bacon, it'd be in one piece. And you stick your knife, cut it off, and you smelled it clear across the street.

MB: How long did that food -- how long did that meat keep in the smokehouse like that? Indefinitely?

LH: Well, indefinitely. They had... After cure -- after smoked it, it was cured and they kept it in a meat house. And you go out there, and you get your meat, hanging up, see? And this pepper and stuff preserved it, see? You had it all over there. And then when you -- you killed your hogs today, then you go with me over to the next one. And nobody had to pay anybody to kill the hogs; you just went around, and everybody helped each other.

MB: Everybody helped everybody...

LH: And we had one old man, lived down there across from where the school is today. We called him Hollerin' Johnson.

MB: Harlin?

LH: Hollerin'.

MB: Hollin Johnson.

LH: Yeah. You could hear him holler so loud that (laughter) everybody called him Hollerin' Johnson. And that old man had a long knife that he always carried. He 33:00was [ruptured?] somewhat. He was kind of elderly man, and he could through a hog down and run that knife in his throat so quick [fingers snap], just like that, and he's tell you right quick, "Turn them loose." And they'd kill them. Then when they'd kill hogs, they used to put them in a barrel and scrape them. Put them in the hot water, and then scrape all the hair off of them. And kids used to like to get around there, you know, and they kept five boiling. At that time they had metal pots -- I guess, kettles -- you've seen those in pictures, some of them. And we -- it was our duty to keep a fire, keep water under there and keep it hot.

MB: Oh, that was your job as a child then, to do that?

LH: Yeah, as a child. And especially to kill them at my house. And they'd stick them down there in the barrel -- have the barrel on about a 45-degree angle, propped up. And they'd stick him head-down in there, come along and skin that -- knock that hair off with a br-- no, with a knife. After this hot water heated, the hair would shave off even, see. And then they'd turn around and put him back 34:00in there again -- the rear end -- and get that. And then when you come out, they [gamboled?] him, put him up on the -- what they called a block and tackle. Pull him up and wedge his feet that way in there and then split him open and take his entrails out. Then they cooked them, too -- back then they used the [lights?] and the livers and all. And around then, most of the time, they'd cut the liver from the hog right then, see? And then, some of the people -- the women of the house -- they'd cook, maybe, the liver, while the rest of them was finishing working. And it was nice and tender.

MB: Ooh. Oh, gosh, we don't even get meat like that anymore.

LH: No.

MB: Gee. You were telling me an interesting story, too, about that little drug store that was close to you. What was the story about that, and who was the 35:00fellow that had that place? First black drugstore.

LH: Yeah. Dr. Duncan. He was the first black in the West End. He lived on Virginia Avenue, right below -- right across from where the school -- Virginia Avenue School is today. Which is about 35-- 3619 Virginia. Well, he had three daughters and one son, and they helped to, you know, take care of the drug stores. Clerks.

MB: Where was his drug store located?

LH: 362-- 3619 Virginia.

MB: Oh, it was? Oh, I thought you were saying that's where he li-- did he live there?

LH: Well, he lived there, too, but in the front, he had this drug store. He had it built -- a drug store out front. And then they lived in the rear.

MB: Oh. And he was the first black druggist in the West End?

LH: The first black druggist in the West End.

MB: Go ahead and tell us some more about him.

LH: And he built quite a bit of trade from the way he operated. As I explained to you before, he would -- if he didn't have it, what you wanted, he would go to the [bazaar?] at 28th and Greenwood, on his bicycle, and come back and deliver your goods, just the same. And he didn't care how many trips he made; it didn't make him any difference. And he built his trade up that way. And he was really a nice man to talk to. And he was really the children's hang-out place, see? The drug store.

MB: You went there a lot as a child, then?

LH: Yeah, a lot of them would hang out there. They would -- had a fountain, see? -- and they would get these sundaes, Cokes and things like that, see.

MB: I've often missed the old drug store fountains. Oh, they were nice. Cokes tasted different, even, then, than they do now.

LH: It did; really did.

MB: ... Oh, I know. Another thing we talked about earlier was the... How'd people get water, when you were a kid?

LH: Out of this pump -- you had a old pump, you pump up and down. They drilled for water -- everybody had -- see there's water underground, everywhere you can drill. But they had some kind of way -- they knew what to -- these old fellows that used to drill wells, they pretty much know some kind of way that they -- where this water was. And they drill a hole. First, they drill a hole... oh, I guess about 10 feet deep. And they wall around it with bricks. And then they'd 38:00take another and dig further down -- send the pipe further down. And then, some way or another, they hit water down there, and this pipe just draw this water. Evidently water must have been running underground at these places.

MB: Did everybody have one?

LH: Everybody had a pump in their own yard. Very seldom you found anybody that didn't have one.

MB: Did you have to pay for that extra, to get that done, or was it just...?

LH: Oh, yeah, you had to pay for that.

MB: You had to pay to have that pump put in your yard.

LH: Yeah. We had one fellow lived out at 37 and Southern -- they called him Pump Duncan.

MB: Pump Duncan. (laughter)

LH: He worked on all kind of pumps and he drilled water. And then we had another one, Mr. [Gaither?] -- he was a water man, and he done a lot of work, and well we had a few others. We didn't have plumbers then. (laughs) These fellows was just gifted with the knowledge of how to do these things.

MB: Who were you saying...? Somebody around here that you mentioned still has a pump -- has one of the original pumps in their yard. Was that near you?

LH: Yes. That's Miss [Metcalf?] -- Jessie Metcalf. Well, it isn't too far from me. She's a member of my church. And I just happened to be passing there, oh, about a couple of months ago, and I looked at it and I said, "Well, they still got this old pump out here." (laughs) Used to pump your -- you raise the handle up and down that way and pump, and the water would come out through a -- something like a...

MB: A trough, kind of thing?

LH: It was -- the pump was made, I guess -- it would come up and -- it was kind of like a faucet, see? And when you pumped the handle it would go up here and just come up and down. You would work the handle up and down and that would draw this water. [sounds of drawing] It had a suction on the bottom. And then the water would come up here. Something like a faucet on here.

MB: Yeah; right.

LH: But it's a historical place, if you'd ever -- you can just drive by that place and see it.

MB: Where is it, did you say?

LH: It's on Sunset, about 39th and Sunset.

MB: Did you ever ask her how come she kept the old pump in her yard? That's kind of interesting.

LH: Never did take it up. It'd be a collector's item today and be worth money, I imagine. They're in their -- I think he's 81 years old. And they're active in my church. He's a deacon in my church, and she's a choir member.

MB: My gosh, and they're in their eighties.

LH: He's -- and he sings in the male chorus. (laughter) They're really good, and he has good health for his age -- both of them -- and they're dedicated to church and service like that.

MB: I'll have to go by and see that spot -- that's really interesting. (cough; inaudible)

LH: Well, the way you would see it, you'd go down Greenwood to 38th Street, and go -- turn left at... Which way you be coming from town? Oh, I could tell you 41:00another route, but that would be the easiest way. Come down Greenwood to 38th Street, come down 38th Street to Grand, which is one block, and then turn right and go down -- well, the street just curves on around by the house. And they sit on the street, right on Sunset between Grand and Hale.

MB: OK, I know the approximate area of where it is. I'll have to drive by there. That really is interesting.

LH: And the last old pump -- we used to have a pump at 36th and Greenwood, what they called a public pump. Now, it was larger than the average pump. And people would stop here -- they had a barrel cut in two, and they'd water their horses there. And anybody that didn't have a pump, they could go to this pump and get 42:00water. And they also had one at 10th and Oak.

MB: Community pumps, is that what they were called?

LH: Yeah. And that was the last one that went out of existence was 10th and Oak.

MB: Mm-hmm. Because I imagine for a lot of people, even getting a pump put in your yard must have been pretty expensive.

LH: Well back then, those days, I doubt it run over $10 to get it. And then you had water for life.

MB: Yeah, that's right. That's true.

LH: Of course, $10 was a quite a bit of money back then, those days.

MB: Yeah, right. It's too bad we can't pay $10 and get water for life now, huh? (laughter)

LH: Well, I thought of this water that they -- and Greenwood Cemetery was right around there, close -- and we got to thinking about all this dead people, and all this going down into the water, and I think that's the reason they cut those pumps out and put everybody having city water.

MB: Yeah, yeah, because you never know...

LH: But it was nice, cold water. And down at the State Fairgrounds, they had what they call a Sulphur pump. Down there they had Sulphur water. I don't know 43:00where it come from, but they had dug down in the ground and hit Sulphur water. And people used to go there to get it, right behind where Miles Park is now. Right over behind the pavilion.

MB: You were mentioning some things about some of the other parks, too. What kind of park facility did you have when you were a kid and lived in the Parkland area? Were there any parks?

LH: Well, as I say, at that time the only one we had was 34th and Greenwood, which was a small, little park. They had -- played baseball and a few little things like that.

MB: So it was a small neighborhood park for blacks?

LH: Mm-hmm.

MB: Was -- when did any of the other parks come along?

LH: Well, I'm a poor hand on dates...

MB: Yeah; well, if you can just remember approximately. Was Chickasaw Park in existence when you were a kid, or did that come along later?

LH: Oh, it was in -- it came while I was growing up. But as I said, we used to go down where Chickasaw is and pick potatoes. It was a farm there -- Whallen, Colonel Whallen. And he donated the ground that Chickasaw has today, to the blacks, because they didn't have a park. Only that little park up there, see?

MB: Oh. Yeah, right. So he donated that whole area; four blocks?

LH: He donated the whole ground; him and [CJ Cronin?]. They had farms close together there. But Whallen was the one donated the ground for Chickasaw Park.

MB: Did you remember when that opened up and going there? Was that quite a deal, for blacks to have a park in those days?

LH: Oh, yeah, that was quite a deal at that time. And they appreciated that park 45:00-- well, when it was strong. At one time, they used to go to Cherokee Park and have picnics, but that came later, after Chickasaw opened. And eventually Shawnee Park was right out the street from it, and Fountain Ferry was over in Market Street, and Shawnee was at Broadway, just a few blocks from Chickasaw Park. Then it went over to Fountain Ferry.

MB: But Chickasaw was the first park that was opened up -- decent size park -- for blacks.

LH: Yeah. Dec-- yeah.

MB: What about White City? A couple people that have been old time residence have mentioned White City to me. What was that?

LH: Well, that was a park, something similar to what Fountain Ferry was. I think, after White City burned down, then Fountain Ferry opened up over there.

MB: Where was White City -- about where was it located?

LH: Right across from Chickasaw -- right [as park of?] Greenwood. Chickasaw was on this side -- right over the streetcar track -- and White City was on the other. And I remember, years ago, that we used to haul lumber from down there where White City was, with horse and wagon then. And back then...

MB: Were blacks allowed to go to White City at all? Or was that strictly a park for whites?

LH: It was strictly for whites, but they had the privilege of going there on school -- after school let out, like you -- you know, class would have their picnic, when school ended --

MB: End of the year, kind of thing?

LH: End of the year, in June. And they were allowed to go there on those days. But other, they had this little park about 34th and Virginia -- 34th and Greenwood, which was called Greenwood Park, I believe.

MB: Gosh. You mentioned, too, something about the old time funeral directors. What'd you -- what was it we were calling them?

LH: They had -- we had white horses for the --

MB: Yeah, right; talk about that...

LH: Had white horses for young people, and older people, they had black horses.

MB: Undertaker, that was the word I was looking for.

LH: Undertaker. The undertakers. And then they had these fellows that drove the horses. They wore high hats and tails. And at that time, the undertakers, they wore tails and striped pants.

MB: So it was really quite a spectacular thing when a funeral was going on.

LH: And all the folk people was to -- we call them [surge?] at the end. And he drove the horses...

MB: What was that, too, that was a kind of a gruesome story about the cooling board? (laughter)

LH: Oh, at that time, they had undertakers come to your house, at that time. Somebody died; you call undertaker, he bring his case. He had about three cases, and one was this cooling board that folded up -- resembled an ironing board today. And after he washed the people off -- they'd have to give him soap and water and a tub, and then he washed --

MB: And he'd do it right there, in their home?

LH: In the home, yeah. And usually, he laid them out in the living room -- in what we call the front room. And after he perform all this -- and, of course, you had outhouses and, sometime they just take it and whatever they get in embalming, and they just put it the outhouse. And then they lay them on this cooling board, and then after a certain length of time, the next day, they come 49:00back and dress him. And then they embalm him and then put him and in two days, he ready to be buried.

MB: So people came to the house -- instead of going to the funeral home, you came to the house for the mourning?

LH: Funeral home... They came to the house, yeah.

MB: And then went to bury them.

LH: And then at that time, people -- when you had a death in the family, people far and near would come, and they'd... Some people would bring food and you sit up all night.

MB: A wake, kind of thing.

LH: The family -- yeah -- the family never did go to bed. You know, people were there -- of course, some would go to bed at different times, you know. But as long as the body was there, people would sit up. Never did close up the house. Course, they didn't break in, like they today, see? (laughter)

MB: Yeah, I was going to say... You could get away with doing that in those days. Oh, gosh; that's quite something. Well, let's get back a little bit more 50:00-- you have so many interesting memories... But you finished night school in '27.

LH: Yeah.

MB: And then did you go right to work, after that? What kind of work did you do?

LH: Yeah. Well, first I started over here at the American Tobacco Company. And they -- it was a branch of 18th and Broadway. And down there at 30th and Madison they had a branch office and they made Tuxedo Tobacco...

MB: Tuxedo Tobacco?

LH: Yeah, it's a smoking tobacco. And then they also made the mixture down there -- that's what I done: a helper, making mixtures. And they cooked this liquid that they put over the tobacco to make different -- Lucky Strike Cigarettes and Tuxedo Tobacco. Of course, they then added a lot more, now. But my job was to 51:00prepare the stuff for the man that cooked -- they had what they called a cook and they had a lot of big vats. And we would put it on in the morning, and every so often we'd add different things. They had cooked so much together. There was brown sugar, and liquorice, and there's rum, and cocoa, and maple sugar.

MB: Oh, and you added all that to the pot as the day went on?

LH: They all go in the pot together. And they had some kind of brown stuff; I forget the name of it. And they used to put so much in at a certain time; in other words, maybe the liquids had to cook longer than the maple sugar. And then they had brown sugar; they had two different kinds of sugar. And the coco, and then -- they keep stirring it, and then, at a certain time they run it off. And 52:00then they put it in a container, and then they ship it on out, to maybe up here at 18th Street.

MB: Mmm. How long did you stay working there?

LH: I worked there about, oh, seven years. Then I got a job at Willow Terrace Apartments.

MB: And that's where you were, then, during the '47 flood.

LH: And I stayed there 17 years, I stayed there.

MB: Seventeen years? Good heavens.

LH: Left there and went to [Portermaster?]. Stayed over there three years and a half. Come back to Reynold Metal Company. Stayed there to '59.

MB: What'd you do at Reynold's Metal?

LH: Oh, I was a oiler. I was -- drained oil from the mills. And they made a foil for cigarettes and things, and they got w--

MB: Right. I've talked to a few people over there. I didn't realize that you'd worked over there. I'll be darned.

LH: Yeah. And, see this oil, they run it over there so it'd wrap and it wouldn't tear. And then at the end of the shift, this oil that done run down and you got to empty it at the bottom, see, in the pan little thing. And I used to empty oil over there in the finishing department.

MB: How long did you work there, then?

LH: I worked there about nine years. And then I went to waiting tables -- I worked with Jay [Cunns?], headwaiter there -- for quite a while. And then when GE moved in here, they took part of the building that was the banquet part, which is where I worked, see, part of it. So they made offices out of that. I went to the Rialto Theatre across the street, where they had other offices, and I told them -- I applied for a job over there. So they said, "Well, since GE came here and put you out of work, the first opening we get, we'll call you." 54:00And about three or four days, they called me. But I couldn't go because I had these other appointments with the parties. So they waited five days and I was able to go on a Monday. And I went out there and stayed 22 and a half years out there.

MB: Damnit. You've had a working career.

LH: (laughter) I left one job -- I never was out of a job a day in my life. I left one and went to the other, and then to the other.

MB: Wow. When -- did you get married along the line there, somewhere?

LH: Yeah, I married in '27.

MB: In '27. Right when you graduated from high school.

LH: Right after that.

MB: Is your still living today?

LH: Yeah, she's living.

MB: And how many children did you have?

LH: We had three. Three bo -- one boy and two girls. And we had our 50th anniversary. We didn't have a -- I mean, our 50th wedding date...

MB: When was it, or when is it?

LH: In March, 28th.

MB: Oh, so you just passed your 50th wedding anniversary?

LH: Yeah.

MB: Does it seem like 50 years? (laughter)

LH: Well, it don't... (overlapping dialogue; inaudible)

MB: You better -- oh, I was going to say, you better be careful how you answer, or I'll have to send this tape to your wife. (laughter)

LH: But now, it's -- people would say that it couldn't be done, but we have lived together all this time, married, all this time. And I've got my first time to hit her, as a fight, and she got a first time to curse me, or I curse her. We've never had any fights. We've had some arguments, you know, but when it comes down to blows --

MB: Yeah. But you've never had to hit her, and she's never had to curse you.

LH: Never had to do that. And that was one of our things that we had were in agreement, when we got married. If we had to curse and fight, we don't need each 56:00other. But we get along fine --

MB: That's marvelous.

LH: But I mean, we've had some terrible arguments now. (laughter) I don't say that, see?

MB: Who hasn't? (laughter)

LH: But when it comes to blows, it wasn't there. I just -- I grew up with that, and I don't like to see a man hit a woman. And I don't like to do that because I would be taking advantage of the person. And if I didn't want you to hit a man -- I mean, a man hit a woman -- I wouldn't either. But we grew up that way. Our parents taught us that.

MB: You grew up not seeing it, and so you just didn't feel like that was necessary.

LH: No. And our parents always told us, respect our sisters. And don't things to take advantage of people.

MB: You learn how to treat other people by the families you're raised in; there's no doubt about it.

LH: That's right.

MB: My goodness. Well... Of course, you've lived all over Parkland. (laughter) I can't believe this. What kind of things have made you stay in Parkland, and return?

LH: Well, it was just a home place for me and everybody... At one time, I knew 57:00everybody in Parkland. But now, you don't know...

MB: A lot of new people moved in, and everything.

LH: Yeah, and it's built up so. Like I say, at that time, houses were far between. And I worked all the time, and I just satisfied where I was. Then she grew up out of Parkland.

MB: Oh, your wife did, too? Oh!

LH: Yeah. And so, we all knew each other and I lived one square out to the church -- my church is a Baptist church, and hers --

MB: What's the name of your church?

LH: First Virginia Avenue Baptist. And she's Phillip Memorial, which is a Methodist church on the next block. So you come down this street and she turned this way, and I turned this way... (laughter)

MB: And you've done that for 50 years? Oh my lord... Oh, that was another thing. You reminded me, when you mentioned the church. We're almost running out of 58:00time, but I wanted you to mention about your experience with the Scouts -- Boy Scouts in the Parkland area. I thought that was real interesting, too. Can you tell me a little bit about that? And do you remember about when that was, that you did that?

LH: Well, it was in '27. And we used to -- (inaudible) was pastor then. And we decided -- Mr. [RM Wheaton?] was commission of scouts. And at that time he went around to different places and organized scouting. And he came to our place and, naturally, the pastor -- he looked over and he said, "Can we find a good man to -- that we could send to take training?" Said, "We'd be willing to give him training."

MB: Were there any black scout masters at this point?

LH: No. Well, now there may have been some, some other place, but not in the West End. And so he said, "We want to start a troop -- scout troop at this 59:00church." So he give us a number and then we went to training class and graduated with -- they give us a certificate for it, and taught you all the different manners of scouting, see?

MB: And you were picked for that, then, to do that?

LH: I was picked, and I was sent, and I was the first black scoutmaster in the West End. Troop 84.

MB: Troop 84. So that was the year, then, that you graduated from high school and you got married. You became a scoutmaster then. Did you stay with it for many years? Was it...?

LH: Yeah, I stayed with it until I started to work at night, see, and I had to give it up at night.

MB: Did you feel like it was really important for the kids?

LH: It was. I put my heart into it. And, well, anything I go into, I try to make a go of it. And so the boys from far and near, they kind of fell in line and we had a good time, there. We had knots and all these different things, and it was interesting. And we had a big troop at one time, and, quite natural, when I had to go off, well, it started falling off somewhat. But they got a good troop 60:00there now.

MB: Mm-hmm. Did you feel like it was a really important thing for the little fellows, to have a chance to be in scouts?

LH: It was; just like I saw, I'd -- when I taught them, I taught them how to remember things, just like I told you about those scout laws they have... Trustful, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, and reverent. Well, I taught them as a song, and then it soaked into their minds and it wasn't hard for them remember. And I try to do things thoroughly for the benefit of the people, see? And that way we had a good time and we learned quite a bit -- and the different knots and... Of course, at that time, there wasn't many Eagle Scouts. But they started --