Caldin Street Interview One

CALDIN STREET INTERVIEW ONE TRANSCRIPT Interviewee: Caldin Street Interviewer: Craig Isser Location: Kalamazoo College, Kalamazoo, MI Date: February 7, 2013 This interview was reviewed and edited by Donna Odom, Southwest Michigan Black Heritage Society. Craig Isser: So, we've been introduced--My name is Craig Isser. I'm going to be asking you a couple questions. So, first of all, what is your relationship to Kalamazoo?

Caldin Street: Kalamazoo is my hometown. I was born and raised here. I was born at Borgess hospital on Gull Road and I was raised here. And my family--I come from a family of seven, well, eight children, actually. My younger sister passed away shortly after birth. So, I grew up in a home with seven children and a mother and father.

CI: Tell me about your earliest experiences in [Kalamazoo]...

CS: Kalamazoo Public Schools and just Kalamazoo period?

CI: Yeah. CS: Um, pleasant. Had a, I thought, a pretty lovely childhood--a fun childhood. You know, when you're raised in a home with seven children, there's never a dull moment. As when we became teenagers, we used to answer the 00:01:00telephone, "Grand Central Station," you know. [Laughs] 'Cause there was just always something going on, always. I have two sisters, one older, one younger and four brothers. And I'm sandwiched between all of that. I have two brothers over me, two brothers under me. So it's my older sister, my two older brothers, then me, then my two younger brothers, then my younger sister.

CI: So you're right in the middle.

CS: I'm right in the middle of all of it, yes.

CI: You know, being a part of a big family, what was important to your family? What were your values?

CS: The values--the family values was to do good in school, be obedient, 'cause my dad was a Baptist preacher. He co-founded Friendship Baptist Church--it's on the North side in Kalamazoo. And do well in school, go to college. Do not give 00:02:00the teachers any problems or troubles, because my parents had to work. You know - both of them. My dad was also a baker. We were the envy of the neighborhood because he would bring his seven children just a variety of donuts home every morning before we left for school. So we left for school pretty full, eating our donuts and having our cereal and juice. It was a--we were the envy of a lot of children in the neighborhood. They would always--because you could smell them. When he would come in with his long white box full of donuts and the kids around, across the street, down the street, they knew that Reverend Gill had those donuts for his children. [laughs] They would come sit on our steps sometime and just say, "Can we have one?" [laughs] But um, it was fun growing up in a house...  As a matter of fact, once my mother passed away in 1994, I moved 00:03:00back into the family home.

CI: Wow.

CS: Yeah, I was living here on the west side raising my son and then for sentimental purposes and reasons, I'm the only child that really wanted to do this. So, I was met with a little resistance from a few of my siblings, but for the most part I just wanted to go ahead and claim the family home, even if it meant buying them out, because it wasn't really worth that much but it was the principal of the thing. So that's where I live now by myself. [Laughs} Mhmm.

CI: Do your brothers and sisters come to visit you?

CS: Yeah, they do. Yeah, they do. Some are very sad when they come home because both my parents--we did hospice in home with both of them. My dad died in '84, 1984. He was a young man, he was only 65, but he was a  very heavy smoker and he had cancer of the esophagus. And we did hospice at home once the doctors 00:04:00couldn't do anything else for him. So we cared for him--my mom was a nurse and she died of cancer in 1994, ten years later. And so we did in-home hospice care for her as well. So, there's a lot of sentimental values and memories there in the home. That's why I wanted to--and some of my siblings couldn't understand that--"How could you stay in that house with--And both Mother and Daddy died in [that]...." And I says, "Well they did die in the house..." Well, my dad died in the hospital, we did get him to the hospital at the last minute. But I said, "Why would I not stay there? Why would I be so hesitant?" And they didn't understand. It didn't bother me. It bothered them more than me, and the problem belongs to whom it bothers. So it bothered them, so I didn't have a problem with it.

CI: Can you tell me a little bit more about your mother?

CS: My mom was a wonderful lady. She was a saint compared to most of us because she never smoked, never drank. She just took care of her children, worked every day. She worked at the state hospital, the psychiatric hospital, for over twenty years. She ended up having to retire early--disability--because she was attacked a few times by patients. She was a small woman. She was not a large woman, and couldn't fend off some of those--a few of those attacks that ended up to her detriment so they retired her. But she enjoyed taking care of--she was a care-giver. And several in my family, like my older sister's a nurse. She's a care-giver, you know. I have a couple nieces that are nurses--care-givers. I am a care-giver but not to that, you know, not to that limit. I'm not one to go in to clean up after people and do this and that and the other. But my mom was one 00:06:00for that. And I think the reason why she was like that was because her sister up under her was born, was mongoloid. And she was the child right before the youngest, my aunt, her younger sister was born. So she was very protective of her, and that was her playmate primarily when they were growing up in the country down in the South, so…

CI: Did you ever visit your family in the South?

CS: Oh, yes. We went south. My dad always drove station wagons, okay? [sips water] He had to because there was so many children. So it would be my mom and dad, and then my younger sister in the first seat. The second seat would be myself and my two younger brothers, and we'd fight all the way down South. It was a long drive, a good seventeen, eighteen hour drive. And then in the back 00:07:00seat was my two older brothers and my older sister. And then we had the luggage all over the car or whatever. So, anyway, the first time that I can recall going South and seeing my grandmother, who was a very strong lady--my mom's mother--I had to be around ten or eleven years old, if I was that old. But I remember going South, and it was a rude awakening for all of us going South because there was a lot of racism down South. And that was the reason why a lot of your African American people came North. My dad came North first and lived with his aunt, his father's sister, until he got work and then he sent for my mom and the two kids, my two older sisters and brother. And they came to Kalamazoo on the 00:08:00train some months later. But it took a long time for them to save enough money to go back South to visit family that was still down there. The both of my mom's family was still there, several of my dad's siblings had already moved up North. But we went South. I remember driving and riding, and we stopped, and we'd always have to--my mother, whenever we would go on any trip she would cook fried chicken and all that and put it in a little basket, and bread, and some water--something to drink. She never gave us candy and stuff but she'd have a few pieces in her purse in case there was an emergency to calm someone down. But really it didn't calm kids down, it made them more hyperactive, but it was some satisfaction to an extent--temporary satisfaction. But um, we got to Georgia. 00:09:00Not Atlanta--to go South you have to go through Tennessee and then you have to go through Georgia to get to Mississippi--that's where my parents were originally from. And I remember they had let my older brother, Richard, drive some of the way because he was fifteen and just itching to drive. He wanted to drive so bad. And he was a good driver, and he had more patience than my dad driving on the highway--and that was before seat belts--so we pulled into a gas station and I had to go to the restroom really bad, and so we all get out of the car because my parents let us get out and run around, you know, just air out, whatever. And I ran around the gas station and I ran into the ladies' restroom. The door said, "Women," I didn't see the door that said, "Colored," I really didn't. I mean, I was too young to even understand, comprehend what that was 00:10:00about. But that was my first experience with really, true racism. I used the bathroom, came out and this--well she looked tall to me--tall, white lady--when I opened the door she was standing right in front of me. She said, "What are you doing in here little gal?" And I said, "I'm in here, I have to use the bathroom." I said, "What's wrong with you?" And I just ran right by her, you know. I didn't know. She mumbled something, some racist epithet to me when I was going back--my parents were looking all over for me. When I got back to the car, because the other kids, they were like, not near the highway but they were on the other side of the gas pump so they were back in the car quicker than me because I was the one that had to use the restroom. And uh, my mother and father 00:11:00said, "Where were you?" I said, "I went to use the bathroom." And my mom said, "Where did you go to use the bathroom?" Because see back then, if they didn't have--and I found this out subsequent to the visit South--if you didn't have a restroom designated coloreds only, you had to go on the side of the road. Your parents had to pull over on the side of the road, and then you'd have to use the restroom there. And I do recall that happening a couple of times when we had a rest break and my mom and dad would say, "We gotta pull over here so the kids can relieve themselves." But we got back in the car and my father said to me, "Cal, you have got to read the signage--read signs before you go into the restroom because we're down South now, and restrooms and restaurants and different places that are open to the public aren't really open to Negroes." 00:12:00Because back then we were called Negroes.

CS: And uh, so I said, “Why?” You know, I didn’t understand it.  And he said, “That’s just the way it is. It, it’s the law.”  He said, “Just do what I ask,” he says. “Just make sure that.” He said, As a matter of fact, we’re not gonna stop.  When we stop to get gas we’re going to get gas.  And you can … We’ll pull on the side of the road if you, if you have to go to the restroom.”  And I thought that was so degrading. As a young girl I did. I was very upset. I said, “That’s not fair, that is, cause we were living in Kalamazoo.  I always went to integrated schools in Kalamazoo.  I went to Lincoln International School.  It wasn’t Lincoln International back then but, it was very diverse.  So, it was hard for me and the rest of us, but I was the one that questioned a lot.  To comprehend why is this happening 00:13:00and we’re still in America and even though you know we’re going South but why is this happening.  And so, as we drove my parents would tell the different stories, you know, about how it has happened to people who have, who have gone beyond the signage and have been caught and had been hanged.  Oh it’s just terrible to hear these stories.  So um, but that, that was my first taste and experience with racism in this country, and it’s something I’ll never forget, you know, because it was just so traumatic for me.  And my mom says, “But the lady that went in the restroom was standing at the door. “Did she go in the restroom?”  I said, “ I don’t know. I just ran and got back in the car.”  You know I didn’t, I didn’t really pay attention to her cause I didn’t know why she was so angry, you know.  So, but that’s, that’s the way it was back then.  And once we got South, once we got to my grandmother’s 00:14:00house, and she lived in a little house in the, off the highway, and a, down a country road - the house that her husband and her three oldest kids, the three boys, fortunately, it’s the way God planned it, built this house cause under the three boys were six girls. So and my grandmother lost my grandfather at a very young age. He was only probably in his mid-thirties and he died. He had gotten kicked in the head by a horse, so he lived for a few months or so after that, but he died, but I never could get the real story cause I was asking my mom’s oldest sister once what, what was it like growing up without your father and I said, “You know what, how did you feel when he died?” ‘Cause she was about eleven or twelve when he died.  And she says, “I don’t really want to 00:15:00talk about it cause it was the saddest day of my life, when my daddy died.”  Said, “Cause I,” she said, “All I can remember is he was a nice man and he took care of his family.”   So, and she just said Ma, cause they called their parents Ma and Pa, that was the that they - whatever you call it, that they used, the terms they used for their parents, and she said, “Ma did the rest, the best she could to raise the rest of us, you know, and the boys had to end up, one went into the service, lied about his age, and the other one was taken in by a white family - the oldest son, Booker T. my uncle Booker T. and they taught him how to buy livestock, to bid on cattle and horses and whatever.  So he traveled all over the South as a young man in his late teens doing that, and then the other one, the son they sent to live with his, with my mom’s uncle who was a school teacher, and so, and what the girls had to stay home, but 00:16:00then there were there were several, the story was that the, there were several people in the city, uh wealthy people that wanted to take the girls and, and raise them in their home, and uh, you know as maids or whatever and my grandmother would not let them go. She would not let them go.  As a matter of fact the story was told by, by a cousin of mine, Lemeo? McDonald, that’s my mom’s maiden name, he uh said that Ma shot her shotgun once at some people that were coming up the road to her house and she told them to get off her property that they weren’t getting any of her kids, yeah, so she was a very, and she was a very tall woman, she was as tall if not taller than me, and I said to my mother, I said well, how I wonder how tall your father was cause men didn’t grow that tall back then except Abraham Lincoln all I knew, you know but she, she says, uh, they said he was kind of short, they started off, they got married as teenagers and he was short, they were the same height but she 00:17:00kept growing, ( ) so anyway that was funny.  But he was a he was a he was a very uh, he was not only was he a, what else was he, he was a farmer he was a photographer now I don’ t know how that came about because we have pictures that he’s he took, he even took a picture of himself, and that picture’s all in everybody’s home in this family, cause we never met him, but uh, he was a hard worker, but he just was dealt that uh terrible uh dreadful fate, he died from the, the wound, the wound from the horse kick.

CI: That’s extremely fascinating, and I’m interested in how did those experiences in the South compare to, you know, coming back to…

CS:  …to Kalamazoo. Okay we, you know, you come back from summer vacation and you, you go in your classroom and your teachers want to know what you do for the summer.  And, we, I was glad to tell them I went, my parents took us all down 00:18:00South.  And they want to know, how did you like it was, and I said it was different cause we had never been down South. And so one teacher said, “Well, how were you treated?” I said, “Fine by our relatives, but they have a lot of separate things down there for negroes and white people, and we, I didn’t understand that. Can you explain that to, to me?” And the kids in the class would kind of look at me and like, I don’t know if they had that experience going South, or if they just didn’t have the, the nerve or guts to ask the question, but the, the teacher says, “Well that’s just the way that they’ve set it up down there.” But, you know, I think back in retrospect that’s why the South was so poor.  They had two systems that they were supporting, one for the blacks and one for the whites. You can go broke doing that, you know, so, you know, and then, and but, when I got, I was … it was 00:19:00refreshing to get back here to school because I always went to integrated schools, both here in Kalamazoo and when I moved to Detroit, but um, which I did that at a younger age, at fourteen, because I, fifteen because I had to, I was involved in singing, so we moved over there. My parents let me move there with my aunt and uncle, my dad’s oldest brother and his wife. And, but it was like, while I was here though and going to school here, I, all my siblings, the three that were older than me, went to Central. It was Old Central, Chenery Auditorium and that was very diverse, very diverse. We used to go there to see all the plays and musicals because my sister, my oldest sister, she participated in all of those and she had voice lessons. She was trained, a trained vocalist by Thomas Kasdorf, who, who is a retired music educator here in the Kalamazoo 00:20:00Public School system. But he was her vocal coach, and she sang in several choirs - the school choir, mixed ensemble, and all of that, and we always had to, as a family, go to see her perform with, you know, different programs that the, the choir would have as well as musicals that the school would have. And she was she tried for anything, you know, so, and it was a very diverse and she was, generally, it was her and maybe one other black female and maybe one or two black males that participated in the school activities that, that were even interested. But I think that was like a dream. My mom wanted us to excel. She loved music. Even she could sing, but her voice wasn’t real strong, but so she was trying to make sure that we did something. She said that all, all of us had fulfilled her fantasy in some manner, that she had, she envisioned her self 00:21:00being, when she was a young girl whatever, so she says she just wanted us to have a full education and to be able to take care of ourselves and be independent, responsible adults. And my dad was the same cause he didn’t let us sit around. We used to have to, my brothers, I had four brothers. They always worked as, from the time they were twelve or thirteen.  They had paper routes. They had to shine shoes at the hotel downtown, Burdick Hotel and different hotels and they pushed ice cream carts, and they … that was basically the kind of jobs that they did, but they started doing that when they were like twelve, and that’s because my father told them they have to work, they have to earn a living. And cause he and my mother, they didn’t have money to just throw around for us to have for spending and having fun and 00:22:00fortunately my brothers, they, they, they complied with that.  And I remember my oldest brother, he would, he would get paid, he would come home - he was like fourteen or so, and I may have been like nine or eight, and he’d just flick a quarter to me and say go buy yourself something, and he, and every day he’d come in after school -see he, they would go to these jobs, these little jobs they had after school, and when they got in college my older brother borrowed money to have, for a bakery. Cause my dad was a baker and his dream was to have his own bakery. He had owned a restaurant, co-owned a restaurant with his cousin, and that ended up kind of bad. And, and we used to work in that restaurant,  that’s as youngsters, you know. I can remember cleaning off the tables, then putting certain things in order for customers as they would come in, but I would work behind the scenes. So, but my brother, Richard, my oldest 00:23:00brother, he bought a bakery, a building and made it into a bakery, whatever, and there were, that’s where he and my dad and my two, two of my brothers, one right over me and the one right under me, they would go to school, they were in college at Western, and they, would, they would work in the bakery and study on the same table. Their school books would be full of flour and dough, and the bakery, you know, especially if they had to study for an exam, and, and they did that all the times. Sometimes they would even find a cot they had, built a cot in the back of the bakery so they could take naps, because, you know, in the baking business the baking is done at night, in the middle of the night, you know, from eleven to whatever, and then it’s delivered that morning, fresh to the restaurants and to whatever. And so it was a lot of strenuous work, but my 00:24:00father wouldn’t let them work overnight unless it was summertime and school was out. But during school, they would go after school, you know, just help out all they could. I mean, they taught us to be independent. They taught us to make our own money and to be respectful and mindful of the law, and just do the things that we should be doing to prepare ourselves for life. I mean, they wanted us to get ready for the world with our skills, education, whatever we needed. Which I’m glad.

Because there were always, in every neighborhood, there are children that your parents don't want you to hang around with. They know more about them than you do, and there were certain children that they would just say, "Now, that's bad news, so I better not catch you walking down the street with that one." You 00:25:00know, or, "Blah-blah-de". So we ended up having to be very obedient. My father was a strict disciplinarian. You know, he would whip us with a belt if we were disobedient. He didn't beat us, but he would whip us. You know, (makes whipping noise). He would pop that belt out if he would call us out on Sunday morning to get up and go to Sunday School. He'd stand at the bottom of the stairs and he'd start calling us by name, from the oldest to the youngest. And my mother would get up first and get ready and then she would, you know, it was time for the kids to come down.  That regimen would start at 6:30, 7:00 in the morning on a Sunday morning. And then he got his own church out in Allegan, Michigan. God forbid. We had to ride all the way out there for a couple of years, in the winter, and we had to endure that. But once we got there it was fun, but, it was just the idea, you know? When I look back on it, I say, "How did we do that?" 00:26:00You know? But, no, he'd stand at the bottom of the stairs and he'd call our names, "Mildred? Richard? Charles? Cal? Billy? Roger? Gwen?" Just call us right in that-- and we would always say, "Yeah, Daddy, yeah, Daddy."  

He'd say, "Get up, get up! It's time to get ready to go to church! Time to get ready for Sunday school!"

We'd say, "Oh, do we have to?"  

"Yes you do, you do”

"Okay"

And if he didn't hear our feet hit the floor within so many minutes,(laughs) he'd take those steps, there's thirteen of 'em, he'd take them two at a time. And while he was coming up the steps, you could hear his belt coming out. And he would just pop us once, you know, he would. The girls room was on the right side, and he would go and come in our room. He'd say, "Get up! Get up!" And he'd go across the hall to the boys room, and he'd say, "Get up! Get up! Get up! Get up! Right now!" And he didn't have to do it every time, but most of the time 00:27:00he had to. Especially if we wore ourselves out and exhausted ourselves playing the night before, that Saturday night.  

I have some fond memories, you know, from growing up in a household of seven children. And then I have some not so fun and fond memories from… Let's see, one time I broke my collarbone playing and was not supposed to be outside, was supposed to stay on the porch or in the yard, because the yard was fenced in. And we were playing hide and seek, me and my two younger brothers.  The younger girl, Gwen, was playing on the porch with her little dolls and stuff. And I was kind of like a tom boy, 'cause I was sandwiched between four boys, now come on! And I started running (it was at dusk in the summer) to hide somewhere, and I connected with the clothesline in the back of the house. I was running really 00:28:00fast. I was a fast runner. And it hit my neck, and I flew up in the air and I can remember seeing the ground as I came down. And I laid there. I couldn't move. I just laid there moaning and groaning. And I heard my younger brother says, Roger says, "Where's Cal? I haven't seen her! Where's Cal?" They were hollering my name and calling, and I was saying, "Help! I'm back here!" And I was able to keep that from my parents for a couple days. I had my brothers, I said, "Just take me in the house and take me upstairs and put me in the bed." I said, "Please don't tell Mom and Dad 'cause they gonna kill me!"  And they said, "Well what's wrong with you?" Well one brother grabbed me up under my arms, my youngest brother. Now he had to be about, what, eight? Or nine? And then Billy, the one right up under me, he had to be about ten, because there's 00:29:00two years difference in all our ages. And the younger brother took me by my arms, put his hands up under my arms, and then Billy, the one right up under me, he took my legs. So they're carrying me in the house, and my parents were at the grocery store or something. And every step that they took, I could feel it, because I had broken a collar bone. I didn't know then, but I'll tell you who discovered it.  So they got me upstairs, these thirteen steps! And I'm crying with agony all the way, just moaning and groaning. And they got me to my bed, because my sister and I had twin beds, one on either side of the big window upstairs, and I said, "Just put me in the bed, please. Get me a couple of aspirins, I'm just hurting so bad up here." So they got me the aspirin and the water, put me in the bed, dirt and all, shoes and dirt...(laughs). I said, 00:30:00"Cover me up!" So they covered me up. I said, "Don't tell Mom and Dad. Just please don't tell 'em." So they wouldn't, it was a secret.  But they came home, my mother's hollering, "Where's Cal-Anne?"

They said, "She's in the bed!" #00:30:24.7#

I said, "I got a headache Mom!" So she didn't ask me to do anything, so I got out of it that night. And my dad, of course, he had to go to work and he left a lot of the supervision up to my mom. So then, the next day my mother had this 6:30 to 3 shift that she worked at the state hospital. And the thing that she did every day, her ritual, was to come in, take a shower, put on her comfortable robe, and take a nap, and fix dinner. Or I would be her helper to fix dinner. 00:31:00So, I begged my brother Billy, "Please help Mom fix the dinner tonight, please! Don't tell her anything is wrong with me, please don't tell Daddy. Please!" They didn't, they didn't.  And so, my mother, she came to the head of the steps once, she didn't like climbing all those stairs. It's a lot after working all day, especially. And, she looked up, she said, "Cal-Anne, are you okay?"  

And I said, "Yeah, Mama, I'm okay, I'm just reading a book." Or something I would like, because I did not want-- I thought that I would be in big trouble if I told. Because I wasn't supposed to be outside in the first place. So anyway, so the third day I got up--I had cabin fever--and I got up soon as my mother left for work. And my dad was home and that's when he would lay down and take 00:32:00his nap, because he would always work two jobs. He worked in the bakery and he worked in a restaurant downtown. And he preached, so he had three jobs. All my young life, if he was home he was asleep, or whatever. Anyway, I was sitting on the steps, and I had baby-stiting jobs, so I had to be twelve, for the different youngsters in the neighborhood. And down the street comes a guy, his name was Andy Johnson, he was a basketball player, a professional basketball player with the Harlem Globetrotters. He was married to the young lady on the corner, and they had two daughters that I would baby-sit for periodically. And so he was coming down the street with his two daughters and bouncing the ball - tall, he had to be 6'5", just looked like a walking tree to me. And so, when I saw them 00:33:00coming down the street, and the two girls, they were running toward me, 'cause I had kinda got up off the stairs, 'cause by then I had regained some strength. And I had taken a shower and changed my clothes. Got up, and I started walking toward him, he bounced the ball toward me. And I grabbed the ball, and I just slumped when the ball hit me, my hands.

 And he walked up to me, he said, "What's wrong?"  

I said, "I hurt my shoulder. I don't know. I fell, hurt my shoulder."  

He said, "How did you do that?"  

I explained to him the story, "I was playing hide and seek and I ran in the backyard, and the clothesline flipped me up in the air," I said, "I don't know."

So he put his hands up under my arms, he said, "Raise your arms." And I went to try to raise this one, couldn't. So he put his hands up under my arms, and he 00:34:00looked at me, he said, "Now look straight at me," and he says, "You gotta go see a doctor. Where are your parents?"  

I said, "My dad went to pick my mom up from work and they'll be here in a little while." So when they pulled the car up, he stayed around until they got there, and my younger sister was playing with his two daughters, so we were occupied.  

And he walked me to the back of the driveway and he told my parents, "You need to get her to a doctor right away, she has a broken collarbone." 'Cause he recognized it, being a basketball player.  

My mom said, "Broken collar bone?! How did she get that?" And she said, "Cal-Anne, what have you been doing?" 'Cause she didn't know what she was going to do with me, 'cause she was very Miss Prissy and dainty and I was just a little tom boy. Whenever she wasn't around I'd put on one of my brothers' pair 00:35:00of jeans with my blouse and my pig-tails and my little bows in my hair. I just didn't like wearing dresses back then.

So, anyway, took me to the doctor and sure enough I had a terrible … and he had to reset it. It was the most painful thing I ever experienced as a little twelve year old. He pushed his hands, just like the basketball player did to try to level my shoulders off, and he pushed his hand and, oh, it was awful. It was just agony, just total agony. And I had a cast on my body from here [points to wrist] all the way up here (points to shoulder and around chest). This whole part was just a cast!  So I suffered, but the bad thing about it, is... .I broke it again [laughs]. Slipped and fell in the shower room at school. They 00:36:00told me not to go into to the … 'cause Lincoln has a pool. You learned to swim at a young age if you were in the Lincoln School District. And I miss swimming, you know. So I, of course, couldn't go in the water, but I thought I could just go to the shower. And the gym teacher told me to stay out of the shower room. I sneaked and tried to walk through the shower room, just to peek at the kids swimming. And I slipped and fell again, and they had to take me back to the doctor. This was like four, three or four weeks, after they set it. And they had to saw that thing off of me and put another one on.

CI: Mhmm

CS: So I don't even know how--my, my mother, when we got older, my mother used to say her constant prayer was that one of us didn't kill the other, or that we didn't kill ourselves [laughs]. She would go to work. She said, "You just don't know how much I prayed." Because things like that, even, you know, and yet--or 00:37:00if you get to fighting and you throw something at each other. Like one time my oldest sister, she got to fighting with my older brother, and she had his marbles, and she had the big boulder margo"

CI: Yeah

CS: …marble. She threw it at him, hit him in the head. And it's good thing it just hit his head and bomp, bounced off because she could have done some damage there. So my mother knew that. She [laughs], she said it was her constant prayer: "Lord please don't let one of them kill the other," or "Please don't let one of them kill themselves doing something stupid," she said [laughs]. '

Well, she used to, I used to love and sit to talk to my mother, when I got older, and she would tell me just the thoughts that were on her mind, you know, when we were growing up, as children. And, and she said, I said, "Well what, how, why did you do all that worrying? Did daddy worry a lot?" She said he didn't have time. He was working all the time. And if he wasn't working, he was sleeping. If he didn't have vacation, he, that's what he would do 'cause he had 00:38:00three jobs - a preacher, a baker, and he was a cook at Schwartz's Foods. And they provided meals for the restaurants that used to be here - Schwartz's Food Restaurant. So my dad was the head chef in one of, in the main kitchen that was over by the north side, not far from where we lived. And so, consequently, several of us worked there with him...

CI: Mhmm

CS: … you know, 'cause, when we got of age, and was able to get out and it was only two or three blocks from where we lived, we would go and help and you know, put the Salisbury steaks and the--all kinds of food--on platters and stuff and then they'd put 'em in shelves, a shelving unit, to go on the truck...

CI: Yeah #00:38:49-5#

CS: … to take to the restaurant. So,yeah. So I had an interesting childhood. I should say, that it was very interesting growing up here. The only thing that 00:39:00was really bad, getting back to racism and, and race relations, is the night we were sitting around the dinner table, and my father, after he said the prayer--I mean we were talking, everybody's talking and whatever, 'cause we all, , that's where we ate and that's where we did our homework, at the dinner table in the dining room--and he said, "Caldin, you're going to"--it was in the summer time, school was out--"you're going to be going to that new high school in the fall, Loy Norrix." And I said, "Loy who?" He said, "It's a new high school that they, that that's been built out by Milham Park." Well I knew where Milham Park was, 'cause my parents used to take us out there, just so we could run around and, you know, get tired enough to go to bed, and they got us back home. But, he says, "Right across the street from Milham Park. They don't have enough negroes 00:40:00in the school." So, I said, "Yeah, but why do I have to go? There, there, there are negroes all over this city, why do I have to go?" He says, "Well, they came to the church, they came to the NAACP first, the school administration, and they asked how, how would they help them get some negroes into the school system, especially in at the Loy Norrix. And they made an announcement at church--you probably weren't paying any attention--but they made an announcement that they would be selecting some of us to integrate, those who are going from ninth to tenth grade."

And so, I was so upset, I was very traumatized. 'Cause I'd been looking forward to going to Central, where my two, three older siblings were attending. And my sister, she may have already graduated, or neared graduating. And I says, "I 00:41:00don't like it that I have to go there." And he says, "Well you're already signed up to go, so you'll be go--" "Well how am I gonna get there?" And so everybody around the table is kinda quiet, and then my brothers, two younger ones especially, started teasing me: "Oh you gotta go to Loy white Norry Nor, what is that?" And making fun, you know how kids can be so cruel. But, I was very upset that I was volunteered to go, and it came as such a shock and surprise to me.

So, that fall I dreaded, it was just a dreadful feeling that came over me the closer we got to September. You know, from June, when school was out, to September. And fortunately I was working and, and helping at the Schwartz's kitchen, so I didn't have a lot of fun, fun, playing outside a lot. And it kept, kept my mind off of, you know, the inevitable.

So, come September, I get on a bus a block from my house, 'cause it gave us all the instructions on how to get us there. It was not only me, there were children from--there was one child from about, mm, six or seven different families, that went there. So I was among some of the first blacks that integrated Loy Norrix High School. And it wasn't a pleasant experience at all. It, getting off the bus was, like, like, like you see sometimes on TV when you're looking at Civil Rights movies and negroes in the South that were integrated in schools. It wasn't that severe, but it was bad. Because when we get off the bus--'cause we had to take the bus from the north side to downtown Kalamazoo and transfer, and 00:43:00that bus would take us all to Loy Norrix, and we'd have to stand on the corners [clears throat] to get that bus in the dark, you know. So we had to be brave, but it was several of us, so we did, we weren't that afraid, you know. And back then, crime wasn't like it is now, you know. So, anyway, first day of school, get off the bus, called the "n" word. It wasn't all the children, the students, it was a handful. But it was enough to make your life miserable. And I even know, remember the names of the boys in particular. And to this day, I remember their names because it was just an awful, things that they would do and say to, to us as we got off the bus. And they would throw paper balls at us, you know, and ball up sheets of paper and just throw it at us, and just nasty stuff. Call us the "n" word from the time we got off the bus ‘til we got out of their 00:44:00sight, 'cause we were instructed to go right inside the school: "Do not mingle around, get to your classroom, your homeroom, and try to avoid any kind of confrontation or altercation." Well, we weren't initiating any of it. It was all directed …we were direct targets every day we got off the bus. And so, one day--and we were always the only one in the classes that we were in. My favorite classes were French and Choir because--and gym, of course, --because the other classes, my geometry teacher and my English teacher, they, they were racist. 'Cause they would, they would do and say stuff that was very hurtful. And when I'd come home at night my parents would, when they, we were sitting around the dinner table eating, and say "Well how was school today?" and I'd tell 'em, "I don't like that school 'cause there's people they call you names, and it's 00:45:00awful," you know, "I can't even, I don't feel happy there," you know. And my father would say, "Well it'll get better." I said "Well, why do I have to do this?" He says, "Somebody has to do it, somebody. And I told them you would do it. Somebody has to start that process. They must integrate that school. That's what they told us. And you're a strong young lady, you, you, you can endure this. It won't be this way all the time."

So, I was so glad when school was out in June, but then I had to go right back in September. It was a little better, but not a whole lot better - still had to experience the racism. Still had to experience being discouraged from getting involved in certain social activities … but all, the choir, music, see music 00:46:00is very therapeutic. And Tom, Mr. Kasdorf--I still call him Mr. Kasdorf to this day. His name is Tom Kasdorf - and the Kasforf Auditorium at Loy Norrix is named in his honor--he was very, very encouraging, and he had been my oldest sister's teacher, instructor, music instructor at old Central which is now Chenery Auditorium. So he knew me by name. He asked me, "Are you, are you related to Mildred Gill?" I said, "Yeah, that's my older sister," you know. And he says, "S-she was in my choir." "Ah yeah, I remember seeing you on stage at the productions" and what have you. We have to go see her every time she's was in, we had to go see her, whenever she was in some kind of production or musical or the choir thing, I says, "so I remember seeing you." And he says "Do you have a voice like hers?" I said "Well hers is kinda trained, you trained her. My voice is, I sing more, um, earthy 'cause I'm singing choir at church. I sing 00:47:00Gospel music. I like that kind of singing. It's more appealing to me." But I still had to take voice training, my mother, my mother insisted. So, but going to his class was a pleasure, because it was such a relief. 'C-cause when you're doing music, you block everything else out. And when your mind just becomes consumed with music, whether you're playing an instrument, or whether you're singing, you know. That's, that's the good thing about music. And so that helped me to endure that, the, that two year experience at Loy Norrix that I had. Um, that, my senior year I talked my parents into letting me go to Detroit to live with my aunt and uncle who had wanted me ever since I was a little girl. They used to ask my mother could they take me and raise me. 'Cause they had enough children, they wouldn't miss one [laughs]. So they would let me go, they would let me go. My mother, there was no way my mother was going to let her little 00:48:00girl go and be separated from her siblings. And, but, she acquiesced, when I was around, that was after the collarbone incident, that had all healed. But she had acquiesced and she let me go, but I didn’t stay long for the summer, and they wanted to try the school thing but I missed my siblings. I was used to a lot of activity, and they didn’t have any children. The house was just deathly quiet, you know, and when I get up, it was just so quiet I couldn’t stand it. I was used to throwing a ball across the hall and hitting one of my brothers in the head, a little tennis ball or something you know? Or running up and down the steps, and that was what I was accustomed to. Oh no, none of that happening in Detroit. They were upper middle class blacks that had everything, they drove Cadillacs, had a cabin cruiser. I was living the life of Riley, if I had really 00:49:00understood that then. But I missed my siblings, I cried so hard to come back so I came back. But then once I got to Norrix and the two years I endured there...

My French teacher loved me ‘cause I caught on to French just like that, and she told me: you should be an interpreter one day You should go to college and be an interpreter, go work for the government, And I says: “That sounds like a good idea.” So anyway, but it wasn’t enough to keep me satisfied with being at Loy Norrix, because you still had this racism. Your grades were being impacted by teachers that were racist, because racist people raise racist children. My father used to say that. He says they teach them. We were sitting around the dining room table, talking about adding value to your lives in other ways, having fun. Some people are sitting around the table talking about to 00:50:00their children about how to hate other people. And it occurred to me, that’s a family value for some, that was, and still is for many people, hatred. After a while my parents said, yeah, she can go back to Detroit. So that’s where I ended up graduating, from Chadsey ? High School in Detroit, which was very diverse as well. But it wasn’t... in a big city, in a metropolis like that, the attitudes are totally different than in a small town like Kalamazoo. It was quite an experience, and I did experience racism first hand, first hand. I wouldn’t want that to happen, or wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially when you’re young. Those are some of your...when you’re of the ages of, let’s say, 10th grade, imagine you’re a 10th grader, 10th and 11th grade, 00:51:00and every day you went to school during the school year you were subjected to being called the ‘n’ word by someone, even walking down the hall, passing classes. Someone would throw something at you down the hall and call you the ‘n’ word and you would just have to endure it, keep walking, go to your class.

And I never will forget, I had had enough, I had had it up to here [gestures]. I used to tell my dad, “Those boys, especially, that call me that name all the time, I’m, I’m gonna fight them.”

And my father would look at me and say, “Fight them! Cal-Ann, you can’t fight those boys.”

I says, “Well me and my brothers fight around here all the time,  I’m not afraid of them!”

And so he says, “ Yeah but don’t start no fight. Now if one of them walks up to you and pushes you or hits you, of course you have to defend yourself.”

One day I got off the bus, never will forget, and they started saying, making 00:52:00racist comments. They would stand at this tree that was close to the bus stop on the school grounds. And, I never will forget, I had my books and book bag in my hand, they didn’t have backpacks back then you had to carry your books. So I’m carrying my books, and I’d just walk right in the midst of them, about six boys, six white boys, walked right in the midst of them, and I just dropped my books, and I balled my fists up.

I said, “ I’m sick of you. I’m sick and tired of you calling me, calling us, these names.”

The other kids, they were looking, but I’m the only one that had the nerve to confront them. And I balled my fists up.

I says, “You think you’s so tough. Try to beat me up. I bet I could kick your butt.”

And they kinda looked at me. They were like quiet, and they were like...and I said, “Come on! Chicken!”

And they just left, they dispersed. I picked my books up, put them in my arms, and I never had that much trouble with them after that.

But I was not afraid. Because  my dad used to say, “God didn’t put that sense of fear in you, and you’re not supposed to walk around afraid of another human being like that, especially in a school environment.” And I really didn’t feel afraid. I was just confrontational, and if it led to an altercation that’s...so be it. But I had gotten so used to defending myself with my, with three of my brothers anyway, the oldest brother, he never challenged me, he kinda spoiled me a little, Richard. But the other three used to go around, I used to pick up their boxing gloves my dad would buy them, and I’d be in the backyard with them, boxing. My mother would get so mad at me, she’d say: “ Cal Ann take those boxing gloves off, you’re a girl!”

But that spirit, that rebellious spirit in me, came in handy, when dealing with the racist students at school. And I was kind of grateful that that was something I experienced. But it did not make me hate white people. It really didn’t. Because I had white friends even in my neighborhood I grew up in, because it was very integrated. This one young lady befriended me, and we were friends for the two years we were at school. She was a white girl, and just as nice as she could be. She would have me over to her house. She’d go, a “Ask your parents tonight, ask your parents, can you come over (she was an only child. … if you can come over to my house, and my mom or my dad will bring you home.” And I did that a few times and we were very good friends while at school.

Plus my dad being a preacher, racism was not taught to us. It was all men are equal, love your...we never even discussed hating people for the way they were treating...and my parents, especially my father’s family, they experienced a lot of racism. Those stories you hear about some young men in some families, having to sneak them out of Mississippi to go North because they were accused of, maybe whistling at a white girl or something like that, something stupid, and it wasn’t necessarily true. My uncle, my dad’s oldest brother, the one I went to live with in Detroit, he says, “Those things, those are true stories,” and he says that those just happened. And I didn’t understand it, why, why do people do that. And he says, “Well its evil. That’s the devil 00:56:00working in people. And that’s just the way it is. And you just have to try and avoid them, or try to let them know, overpower them...be kind, kill them with kindness.” That’s an old saying. It’s hard to do. But you, you end up doing that.

Fortunately, even though those experiences were very traumatic, and I hated the way I felt going through them, it never gave me a reason to hate people because of their skin color. That never even entered my mind. One thing, in my mom’s family … my mom’s mother was biracial. Her mother was a slave. My great grandmother was a slave. So she had three or four children. They were all 00:57:00biracial. So my grandmother was biracial. So it wasn’t something we couldn’t embrace anyway, hating people, for whatever reason. It just didn’t make sense to us. But Kalamazoo, I tell anyone, Kalamazoo is a great place to raise children, for married couples, and old people. I encourage young people to leave, go out into the world. Keep it clean, keep your eyes...like my dad used to say, hold on to God’s unchanging hand, remember where you came from, and just enjoy your life and learn that there is more to life than this Kalamazoo, Michigan. But I ended up coming back here, because it has its way of bringing 00:58:00people back. And that’s ok. I do get away a lot. I have so many relatives and friends all over the United States, so I’m fortunate, I always have some place to go.

CI: Thank you so much for sharing these incredible stories. I think we’re going to wrap it up for today, but it’s been a pleasure to listen to you.