Oral history interview with Mtume Imani, 2012 [text/print transcript]

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THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA AT GREENSBORO
INSTITUTIONAL MEMORY COLLECTION
INTERVIEWEE: Mtume Imani
INTERVIEWER: Hermann Trojanowski
DATE: April 13, 2012
HT: Today is Friday, April 13, 2012. My name is Hermann Trojanowski. I’m in the Alumni
House at The University of North Carolina at Greensboro with Mtume Imani, Class of
1962. We’re here to conduct an oral history interview for the African American
Institutional Memory Project, which is part of the UNCG Institutional Memory
Collection. Mrs. Mtume Imani, thank you so much for coming all the way from
Pennsylvania to the Alumni Reunion this weekend. Thank you.
MI: Thank you for having me.
HT: You are so welcome. If you would give me your full name, so the transcriber can
transcribe it correctly.
MI: Alright then, it’s Mtume Imani: M-T-U-M-E; last name, I-M-A-N-I.
HT: Could you tell me how—? I mean, you chose that name in the 1980s—how that came
about.
MI: Alright. I was living in Los Angeles, and I always wanted to study African American
culture and history. My son is an African drummer and set drummer, and he went to a
festival and brought back flyers and other announcements about various activities. When
I opened the group of papers that he had, in the middle—folded right out into the
middle—was a brochure from the African American Cultural Center. I said, “Oh, I really
would like to go and study there.” So I went to the center. The director is Dr. Maulana
Karenga who is the creator of Kwanzaa. So I introduced myself and told him that I felt
that God sent me to the Center. He said, “Well, the name for the one who was sent is
Mtume.” I chose Imani because it’s the last principle of Kwanzaa and it means “faith.”
So that’s how I chose my name.
HT: And did you get a chance to change it legally?
MI: Yes, I changed it legally. Yes, indeed. So all of my—Everything about me has been
changed in the legal system.
HT: Was that a difficult process: to change your name?
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MI: No, not difficult at all. You go through a period and they put your name in the paper for
thirty days in order for them to see if anyone has any liens against you or any negative
things against you or if you’re trying to do something negative, you know, so that they
can clear your name. You pay the fee and you go to the court and the judge asks you why
you want to change your name. I told him it was for cultural reasons. So you sign the
paperwork, you change it with Social Security and all of your personal changes, and you
send them the document proving that you have changed your name legally. And you pay
the fee for the court and that’s it.
HT: Wow. It sounds like a fairly simple process.
MI: It is.
HT: Well, if you could tell me something about your background; about when and where you
were born and about your family and that sort of thing.
MI: Certainly, I was born in Kings Mountain, North Carolina right outside of Charlotte and
when I was—My father’s family were farmers and my father went to Tuskegee Institute
[Tuskegee, Alabama]. In fact, it’s Tuskegee University now and he graduated as an
electrical engineer. When I was born in a few years, we moved to Virginia because he
worked in the Navy Yard in Norfolk, Virginia. I’m sorry, Portsmouth, Virginia. We
stayed there for five years [while] he worked in the Navy Yard.
We moved to Winston-Salem, [North Carolina] and he started his own electrical
contracting business. He was one of the few black entrepreneurs at that time. My mother
was a homemaker at first and then she went back to school and got her degree in music
education. She became a music education teacher, so music was always a part of our
family background and she went on to get her master’s [degree] at Northwestern
University [Evanston, Illinois] and taught in the public schools and worked in the
churches and the community all of the time. And we were older then, so she went back to
school and was able to finish her degree and get her education.
HT: Did you have family in Winston-Salem or how did that come about that you moved back
to Winston?
MI: No, we didn’t. We didn’t have family in Winston; our family—My father’s family was
still in Kings Mountain and my mother’s mother lived with us. My mother’s side of the
family were from Clarksdale, Mississippi, so when we moved, we brought my
grandmother with us, and she lived with us, and that’s where our roots were. After that
we stayed there. That was our family home.
HT: How many siblings did you have?
MI: Just one sibling. I have a brother; he’s two years younger than me and he—After he
graduated from Michigan State, he took the ROTC [Reserved Officer Training Corps]
program throughout college. He graduated and became an officer in the Air Force and
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stayed in for twenty-three years, I believe, and came out as a lieutenant colonel, so he
made his career in the armed services.
HT: Where did you go to high school?
MI: I went to high school at St. Anne’s Academy. It was a Catholic high school there in
Winston; a very good high school. We just had eleven people graduating in my
graduating class but the education was excellent. And I got a scholarship to go to
Springfield Junior College in Springfield, Illinois and after I graduated from there, I
transferred down to Woman’s College in 1960.
HT: So, how did you like living up in Illinois?
MI: Well, it was different. There were not a lot of black students and, you know, being—
Everyone says that the North is so integrated and so liberal, et cetera, but there was a lot
of racism there, too. But the campus—Because of the fact that it was a Catholic school
and the nuns and all the personnel were kind and caring with us, we didn’t get the brunt
of the city problems; you know, the politics of the city. But I can remember very vividly:
we always had to go to church on Sunday regardless of what church. But they made us
go; that was a part of our curriculum and so I would go to the church in the city and—I
never will forget; I went to a church one Sunday and when I walked in the preacher
stopped preaching and everybody turned around to look at this black person coming to
this white church. [laughter] It was comical to me but that just shows you how
prejudiced—And you know, as Martin Luther King said, “The hour between eleven and
twelve on Sunday is the most segregated hour in America.” But it was real comical.
HT: So the Springfield Junior College, was that a Catholic school as well?
MI: Yes, a Catholic junior college. Yes.
HT: Now is this Abraham Lincoln country; Springfield, Illinois?
MI: Yes, absolutely.
HT: So there’s a museum and house that is still there?
MI: There probably is. I can’t remember seeing that but that is his birthplace.
HT: I thought it was [unclear]. Well, what were your favorite subjects up in Springfield?
MI: Well, music education was always my bent because, as I said, my family—my mother
was a musician and raised us with—And I took piano lessons from her at a very young
age. I really wanted to be a social worker but I succumbed to her wanting me to be a
musician, so I took music education; and then, of course, when I came to Woman’s
College, I furthered that and got my degree in music education.
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HT: Anything stick out in your mind, other than the church incident [about] your time at
Springfield Junior College?
MI: Not really. One thing—Well, the dietary—You know every area has an emphasis on food
in certain areas, so when we were in school, potatoes were a big part of the culinary—of
the dietary things that we received from the cafeteria.
HT: They must have had plenty.
MI: Yes, yes, and we ate potatoes in every form. My mother said when I came [home], “You
rolled off the train” because I gained so much weight from eating so many potatoes when
I was in Springfield. But then when I came here, I stopped with all the potatoes, so I lost
the weight again. But it was so funny. My mother said, “Oh, you rolled off the train.”
[laughter]
HT: While you were up there, were you able to go back and forth quite often?
MI: Not often, just at the major holidays, Christmas, and summer because money was an
issue. I had a scholarship, so I didn’t have to worry about the dormitory and the fees for
school but, you know, being a family of moderate income or modest income, I went
home at Christmas and the summer.
HT: So I guess you transferred to Woman’s College—
MI: I did.
HT: —in the fall of 1960. Is that right?
MI: Yes, I did.
HT: So you were still up in Springfield, Illinois when the Greensboro Sit-ins were started in
February, 1960?
MI: No, I was here. Let me see—February 1960, no. Isn’t September the starting of the
quarter, no the semester? So I came in at the time I was supposed to so I was—Those
young men worked in the cafeteria here at Woman’s College. I wasn’t physically in the
[Greensboro] Sit-ins, per se, but all of that was going on while we were here on campus.
HT: Tell me about your transfer to Woman’s College. Was that difficult? Did you have to go
through some sort of process?
MI: I don’t remember anything difficult because of the fact that I had good grades and, you
know, the system for the—Springfield was a very good junior college, so I think—I don’t
remember any problem transferring my grades and credits from there to here, so I came
right in, as far as I can remember, on time and without difficulty.
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HT: Was this your only choice or did your mother try to have you go elsewhere?
MI: You know, that’s interesting. I don’t remember how—I’m sure it was my mother that
investigated schools because I don’t remember wanting to go to a black school or
wanting to go to another school. I can’t really remember, you know.
HT: We’ve always had an excellent music program here, so that might have been a great
influence on—
MI: That’s right. And I think that’s what the influence was because she researched it and
knew that this was a good music school.
HT: And one you were closer to home, probably.
MI: Absolutely, that’s right. Exactly.
HT: Well, you were music major; a music education major.
MI: Yes.
HT: Well, tell me a little bit about that.
MI: Well, when I came here, Dr. Cox was the—
HI: Richard Cox?
MI: —was our choral teacher. I think I was the only black student in the chorus; I’m not sure.
I took organ from Mr. [George] Thompson and he was an excellent organist but he was a
“hellified” teacher. I mean he was so strict and had such a brusque way about him. I can
remember walking across campus crying, coming from his organ class. But he was
excellent on the organ. He was a master organist.
HT: What was his first name; do you recall?
MI: I sure don’t.
HT: I can look it up.
MI: Yes sir, you can because he was—I don’t know how long he was here, but he was here
when we were here and he taught organ. I took courses from Dr. Cox and I took
German—I think I did—and English and theory and all the courses that go along with
your music degree. It was a very—I applaud the educational system here because it was
an excellent education. It was thorough and I was really very happy to have graduated
with the class because I feel that my choice was an excellent choice. We got a very good
education here at Woman’s College.
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HT: You stayed on campus?
MI: Yes.
HT: Do you recall which dorms?
MI: Mendenhall [Residence Hall]. I was Edith Wiggins’ roommate.
HT: And was that for both years that you were roommates.
MI: Yes, as far as I can remember.
HT: Tell me about your school days. Did you enjoy them?
MI: I did, I did; but, as I spoke in the other session [at the Alumni Reunion], the young men—
Elgin and the other young men that were the beginners of the [Greensboro] Sit-ins at
Woolworth—worked in the cafeteria, so we knew them and they asked us, as black
students, to help them integrate the busses. So I went one day; I sat on the front and
nobody bothered me, but I told him at the end of the day, I said, “If any of these people
spit on me, I’m going to try my best to kill them, so I want you to take me off these
busses because I am not nonviolent” I was raised in the South—I was born and raised in
the South, so I wasn’t ready to take any flak from anybody, so he took me off, but the
other students continued—you know, the female students—and they, of course, those
young men, went on to make history because they were the persons—We didn’t realize at
the time how historical what they did was, but as history has come along—But they were
the engineers and pioneers of that movement and they were the ones who put their lives
on the line to do that on a daily basis.
HT: Have you seen the statue over at [North Carolina] A&T [State College]?
MI: I haven’t, but I would like to before I leave town.
HT: You need to go over and look at it. It’s really magnificent.
MI: I’m sure. I saw them on television. They were interviewed by—You know, how PBS has
so many educational programs and the—I think one gentleman has passed away; the
other three were on TV. I was really happy to see them because I hadn’t heard anything
about their lives since the ’60s. It was very educational, and of course they told their
stories and the back stories, you know, about how things happened. They were brave
young men for sure.
HT: Now, you said you participated by going on the bus. Was that on a—
MI: City bus.
HT: City bus—that was a Duke Power bus.
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MI: Okay, I don’t know. Whatever the name was; yes, it was a city bus.
HT: Did the bus driver say anything?
MI: No, I can’t remember him being negative to us at all. We sat on the front seats; I
remember that.
HT: There were more than just you—
MI: Yes.
HT: —participating.
MI: Yes. You know, other black students that were in school here. They asked us if we would
volunteer to be subjects and go on the busses and we did. I can’t remember anybody
saying anything or doing anything that was negative, but I knew, according to the history
of the people here and according to things that had happened in that era, that I would not
be willing to accept that behavior.
HT: Were you frightened or anything like that?
MI: You know I can’t remember being afraid, but I do remember being apprehensive because
you never know what people are going to do. I don’t remember just being fearful, per se,
because you know, you live in this society, even though it was segregated, but you still
had interaction with other white people that were going on about their business doing
whatever so you didn’t have that fear, per se. But with the turbulence, and with the
attitude of coming forward that we as African Americans had, and the resentment of
people in general because of the fact that you were speaking up for yourself. You were
standing up for yourself, you know, that created a whole different attitude in the people
that were in the community.
HT: Were you ever involved in any other civil rights actions or movement?
MI: I got a chance to—When I was married, I lived in Washington, DC, so I got a chance to
attend the August 1963 March on Washington where Dr. King spoke and so many others.
And then, when [President] Kennedy made his transition, we stood in line all night long
to view his bier because you know everything was covered; they didn’t have any opening
of his remains. So those were two things that I did and that March on Washington was so
wonderful. I’ll never forget it. Yes.
HT: I’m going to skip back to the campus activities and that sort of thing.
MI: Sure.
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HT: Were you involved in any kind of extracurricular activities when you were on campus,
like the theater or—? Now you mentioned the choir.
MI: Yes, I was in the choir and we travelled with the choir because Dr. Cox made sure that
we had other venues to perform in, not just the ones on campus. So he took us to Fort
Bragg [North Carolina]. I’ll never forget that because it was just like a city. You know,
the base is just like its own city, and I had never seen that many men in all the days of my
life. [laughter]
HT: And here you are, coming from a women’s college.
MI: That’s right, exactly. So we were in awe of all the men. But it was a wonderful
experience; it was a beautiful—The base was just beautiful. So we sang for them, you
know; we had a program, a concert for them. I don’t remember any other travels that we
did—we probably did—but we had various performances, and one time they took a
picture (I have it at home) for the newspaper, and they showed our choir at whatever
venue we were at. We had a chance to perform on campus and off campus and he was a
very good choir director; he was excellent.
HT: I interviewed Barbara Baker, Class of ’69, last fall up in Silver Spring, Maryland, and
she—you may—You probably don’t know her because she was a little bit later than
you—Barbara Wesley Baker. She got her doctorate in music eventually and taught in the
city schools up there. Anyway, she spoke so highly of Dr. Cox. I never knew him.
MI: He was very good; very fair, very, you know, he never had any personality problems. He
was a very genteel person and excellent in his course of study. He taught us very well and
the choir was excellent. Well, you know, Woman’s College prided itself in excellence
because of the fact that we were an all women’s college.
HT: A premier women’s college.
MI: Exactly. That’s right.
HT: Well, what do you recall about The Corner down on Tate Street? It was a little drugstore
type of thing.
MI: You know, I can’t remember. When they talked about the Yum-Yum, I can’t even
remember if we went—I’m sure we probably did—to buy ice cream, but you know, I
really can’t remember anything. When you said The Corner, it kind of gave me a
flashback, but I can’t remember any incidents or any situation. I imagine if something
had been negative I would have remembered, but I don’t remember having any problems
with the students or the faculty on campus because everybody seemed to be of one
accord. Of course, we did have separate quarters. We had separate dorms and, like Edith
said, we had separate restrooms, which, you know, was to our benefit as students—not
having to share.
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But I do remember this funny anecdote: one of the white students, when she
came—She was a well-to-do white student and she brought her maid with her. Her maid
set up her room, set up her clothing, did everything to get her set up; and that lady’s room
didn’t get cleaned again until the maid came back. She would wear rough-dried clothes to
class; she didn’t know how to iron; she didn’t know how to clean; she didn’t know how
to do anything. We would always laugh because, you know, black people take pride in
dressing well and being neat and this girl was so funny. She would wear—She would
wash her clothes, but she didn’t know how to iron, so she would wear rough-dried clothes
to school, to class. Whenever her maid came back, she would iron up her clothes; clean
up her room and get it all straight; and that didn’t happen again until the maid came back.
We thought that was so funny.
HT: I’ve never heard of such a thing; it’s unbelievable. You would have thought somebody
would have taught her.
MI: I know, but you see, when you’re rich, I guess you don’t have that to do. So it was funny
though to us because can you imagine going to school with rough-dried clothes; not being
neat and clean; you know, looking like a neat student. It was funny, but I remember that
very distinctly.
HT: I wonder how her roommate survived.
MI: Well, I’m sure she did have a roommate. That’s a good point. I can remember that room
being a mess, though, because we’d pass by her room going out of the building.
[laughter]
HT: Well, while you were here, I think you said you had Edith Wiggins—
MI: Yes.
HT: —for your roommate. [She] was Mayfield at that time.
MI: She was my roommate for both years.
HT: For both years. So you never had a white roommate.
MI: No, I never had a white roommate and, in fact, I don’t think they mixed up the
roommates during that—
HT: Probably not that early.
MI: Not that early, yes. I think that happened later.
HT: Yes, I think that someone mentioned in the session a little bit earlier that some of the
white girls finally said, “We’ve had enough sleeping three to a room and when all these
rooms were available over in Shaw [Residence Hall].”
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MI: That’s right, yes.
HT: That might have happened the year after you graduated; I think maybe ’63 or something
like that.
MI: Yes, I heard that story today for the first time.
HT: Well, do you recall any social events that stand out in your mind while you were here at
Woman’s College, dances and that sort of thing?
MI: I don’t, but what we used to do—I dated a young man from A&T [North Carolina
Agricultural and Technical University] and he would take me to things that were
happening in the city and on their campus. I can’t remember. We might have [had
events], but I’m the big seven one, so I don’t remember all these details. But I don’t
remember socials although there probably were, but you know, at that time, there were no
boys so we didn’t have—We got together for different occasions.
I can remember my physical education courses were fencing and billiards; I
remember that very distinctly, and I liked both of those. They had so many varying kinds
of physical education at that time: square dancing and other forms of formal dancing and
tennis. And you know, it seemed to me that there was a great variety: not just baseball
and catch or whatever or calisthenics or whatever. They had a very excellent variety of
physical education courses that we could take as students to get our physical education
requirements. I do remember those things, but I don’t remember parties—But we
probably did have sessions and socials among the girls, you know, with food or whatever,
but I don’t really remember. I do remember going off-campus with the black young men
that we dated from A&T, having parties and going to things in the city.
HT: Well, tell me about your fencing class.
MI: Oh, it was wonderful. I thought it was great. I had never had—Well, I had only seen
fencing on television, so I had never had any inkling that that would be a way that I
would be able to perform. But it was fabulous; I loved it.
HT: Did you have the mask and everything?
MI: Absolutely. We had the masks and the foils—
HT: Real swords.
MI: Yes, we had the foils that they used in fencing and it was wonderful. And billiards was,
too. I’m sorry I didn’t keep up my billiards because in social activities, a lot of people
have pool tables in their homes, so you can have fun with that. I didn’t keep it up but I
enjoyed it. I thought it was great [laughter] because I didn’t have to do the regular—you
know, not boring, but you know—calisthenics and running and all those things. They had
those, too, but they had all these other interesting physical education [classes] so that’s
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why I chose something that was totally far afield from what I had been raised to know
that physical education was.
HT: Now I think at that time you had archery.
MI: They did; they did. I didn’t take archery, but they had it.
HT: Well, you had that fencing sword; you could—
MI: Yes, it was great. I really enjoyed it. I did.
HT: That’s amazing.
MI: Yes, it is. Especially for the 1960s, don’t you think? Absolutely.
HT: Well, I think somebody had mentioned in the session [at Alumni Reunion] earlier today
about some traditions at Woman’s College. Do you recall anything about the Daisy
Chain?
MI: I don’t. You know, that was funny. I never remembered that when the lady described
that. I don’t know that they had it during those years. Did they?
HT: As far as I know, they did, and it was during commencement, and the graduating seniors
walked through—I think—a double row of ivy and daisies; either leaving or going into
the commencement program.
MI: Okay, I can’t remember that. I do remember the maypole. We had the May Day
celebration and I remember that. That was a beautiful celebration and they actually had
the maypole decorated with the streamers. It was a beautiful occasion.
HT: Do you know where they held the May Day celebrations?
MI: It was in a yard; in a green area. I don’t remember, but it was on campus, but I don’t
remember which yard or park, but it was on campus though, that it was held. Everybody
celebrated. That was the highlight of May. They celebrated that occasion. It was
beautiful.
HT: I know you were not on campus during your sophomore year because you were not here.
MI: Right.
HT: But that’s when the girls would have gotten their class jackets. Did you ever buy a class
jacket?
MI: I can’t ever remember that, no. Edith said she bought one, but I don’t even remember
that. I remember the ring and I thought it was ugly at the time, but I’m sorry—
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HT: That black onyx—
MI: Yes, the black onyx. And I’m sorry I didn’t get one, but I have the paperwork at home
that the school sent me. You can still get it so one of these days I’m going to get one
because they are very distinguished-looking and, you know, it makes people know where
you went to school. No other ring I’ve ever seen looks like it. I thought it was so ugly
when I was a teenager, but I like it now. I think it’s very, very distinguished looking.
HT: Well, while you were here at Woman’s College, did you ever feel like you were
discriminated against or anything like that?
MI: That’s what I don’t remember; I don’t remember any negativity, honestly. And I don’t
know—I’m sure there were incidents, you know, because people are people, but I don’t
remember any teachers or students doing anything that would have caused me harm. I
just remember the difficulty of that organ class and other classes and I do remember
taking that to heart. I can remember distinctly walking across the campus crying from Mr.
Thompson because he was so strict and so—his personality—I don’t know—just blustery
and overbearing and I remember that, but he was excellent and he taught us so well. I
don’t play the organ now, but he really taught us well. Every course of study that I can
remember on this campus pushed us towards excellence and was taught in a manner that
was excellent, so that when you graduated, you knew your subject matter. I really am
appreciative of that and grateful for that because that’s not necessarily a hallmark of all
colleges. You know what I mean. They spit it out and let you get it on your own. You see
[it] on television: they lecture and tell you what to do, and they leave and you leave. But
it was not like that here; it was not like that.
HT: I would imagine, since you were a music major, that you spent quite a bit of time
practicing.
MI: Oh, absolutely. Oh, yes. Well, they had the music room—the singular music rooms—
where you could practice.
HT: You were in the Brown Music Building for a lot of your time.
MI: Yes, I was, and the library. And I can remember the area in the library that the lady talked
about where they had headphones and you could use the headphones and go in and—I
remember that, too.
HT: And listen to music.
MI: Yes, listen to music or listen to whatever, you know, was relevant to your studies that you
were having. So, yes, we didn’t play around. We couldn’t—I couldn’t—Some students
may have been more brilliant and they could not be as conscientious, but I had to study
and, so I was studying.
HT: Plus you wanted to finish in your four years.
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MI: Absolutely. You know, there’s a thing about it where education in the black home was so
emphasized. It was like you, as a child, that was your job: to be a good student; not to
bring shame on your family; not to waste the money that was spent on you to get an
education; so you had pressure that was not seen, but you knew in your mind, “Look, I
can’t mess around. I have to study. I have to get my lessons; get my homework done; and
do the best I can.” So that was a part of our upbringing, and that’s what we continued to
pursue, you know, until we did graduate. Then you go out and find a career, but it was a
part of our upbringing.
HT: While you were here, what was the political atmosphere like, do you recall? This was the
early sixties, of course, when civil rights was just starting.
MI: I don’t even remember who—Who was the president then? Eisenhower?
HT: [John F.] Kennedy; Kennedy came in in 1960 and was killed, of course, in November
’63.
MI: Exactly. Well, you know we all loved him and revered him and his wife, and I know that
that was a part of what we thought, but otherwise I can’t remember. I really can’t.
HT: I think we may have already touched on this a little bit about the Civil Rights Movement.
Were you involved in the Civil Rights Movement before coming to Woman’s College at
all?
MI: No, because I was in Springfield and the emphasis—Because of the fact that it was
“integrated” (in quotes) for years; because of the fact that the North was considered more
liberal and more integrated, et cetera. then; you didn’t have the same kind of issues that
you did down here because of the fact that there were no black fountains/white fountains,
none of the outward show of separation and Jim Crow in that area. So you didn’t have
to—Well, I can remember that we were cautioned about going into certain parts of town
in Springfield, but I don’t know whether that was because we were female or whether it
was because of a situation, you know.
But, of course, we were campus students so they took—The nuns always made
sure that we were protected from any outside whatever, you know what I mean. I can
remember that, but otherwise—I do remember this though: It was so funny. White
students came from all the little towns around Springfield, and I met this student who had
never seen or interacted with a black person. There were no black people in her town; she
was from Verdone, Illinois. I’ll never forget that. But she was so friendly to us; it was so
interesting. She had never interacted or been around African Americans, but she was
more friendly and more kind than the people who lived in Springfield who had interacted
with black people all the time. I remember that very distinctly.
HT: Did Springfield have a sizable African American community or a small—?
MI: I think they did; I’m not really sure because, you know, living on campus and being from
out-of-town, I didn’t take an interest. But they did have a sizable black population; I do
14
remember that. You’d hear the students that lived in town talk about those kind of things.
But we were on campus; we lived on campus.
HT: And were the rules and regulations there more strict or about the same as here.
MI: No. Well, they were more strict because they were Catholics and because we had to
adhere to not only the rules of the campus but the spiritual rules about your conduct and
about your demeanor and all those things. Here we had to make sure we were checked
out, just like the lady talked about, when you went out. And when you came back, your
dorm mother or dorm person was at the desk, checking you in when you came in, et
cetera, so there was a strictness as far as your activities when you went off-campus, you
know. You had to sign out and make sure that you had permission to go wherever you
had to go, so it was interesting because I can remember some of the other students that
were older than us, and they would go out and they would have—You know, go out and
party and whatever—and they said, “Now make sure you leave that door open for us, so
we can come in because, you know, we come in after hours.” You know, I can remember
going to that door and opening it for them because they were out in the city—they were
older than us—but I don’t remember any negative—I remember some students getting
grounded because they didn’t come in on time. You know they had a penalty for you if
you didn’t, but we just—
HT: But you never did that.
MI: Well, I can’t remember doing that, but we did have fun, you know. And we went outside
the campus because there weren’t any males here inside to date, and we did go off-campus
to various activities. I remember that, but I always tried—I can remember that I
always tried to get back on time. I may have slipped up a couple of times, but I didn’t like
being called out for doing wrong, so I tried to be on the right side of the rules.
HT: The nuns taught you well. [laughter] Well, tell me something about your one roommate.
Do you have any stories about Edith that you can share with us.
MI: Well, you know, she was a very prudish—I say “prudish”—Her mother and father
were—Her father was a minister, so it’s different when you grow up as a minister’s child.
You have to be prim and priss and, you know, be nice and cross your legs and make sure
everything—so I was really amused and sometimes aggravated because she was so prim
and priss and she had this thing about she never used the washcloth for her face that she
used for her body. I guess her mother must have taught her that; I’m not sure. So I would
get real aggravated, you know: “Why do you have to use two washcloths?” But anyway
that was her custom. Whenever she washed, she always used the washcloth for her face
and then she would use another washcloth for her body, and so I can remember us
bickering about that, but she was a nice lady; she was kind, but she was prudish and she
was prim and priss and I guess that goes along with being minister’s child, you know.
But she was a very good student and we got along. It was rough. You know how
it is when you have a different personality—because I’m very outspoken and she was
very reserved and you know. My mother used to tell me all the time, “It’s not what you
15
say, it’s the way that you say it.” She was always on me because I just blurted it out, you
know what I mean, not thinking about it and talking in a kind voice or whatever. So we
had differences because of my personality and her personality, but as time went on, we
got along very well. She was a good student; she was a kind person; and I can remember
we had a smooth relationship as time went on.
HT: Now, did you and Edith have one of those end rooms that was mentioned this morning?
MI: I can’t remember whether it was an end room, but I do remember we had our own
lavatory; we had our own bathroom in the [unclear, both talking]
HT: Which is very unusual in those days.
MI: I guess so. What was—Do you think that maybe used to be quarters for teachers?
HT: I think they might have been quarters for the counselors. I’m just guessing.
MI: Oh, maybe so. Right, because when the lady mentioned it at the last session we had, but
we did have our own restroom, which was very convenient. And I do remember at one
time we had to go down the hall to use the hall restroom because I can remember taking
my towel and washcloth and going down the hall. I can’t remember which year that was,
but we did have—I do remember that part of the time of the two years, we did have our
own lavatory.
HT: Now did you have any interactions with other African American students at that time.
There weren’t that many.
MI: There weren’t that many and the two that I remember were Margaret Patterson and Zelma
and I can’t remember Zelma’s last name.
HT: Helms, wasn’t it Helms? Holmes?
MI: Something like that. She was a minister’s daughter, too. And I remember them, but they
were upper classmen and they graduated before we left, but they were very nice to us.
They were very protective and very sisterly toward us. Those are the only two I actually
remember. Now when they came for this occasion, I remember their faces. They were
here when I was here because they graduated in ’62, but I can’t remember having a lot of
interaction, per se, but I know we had to get together because there weren’t but a few of
us at that time.
HT: But you probably never had any classes with most of the [black] students here.
MI: Well see, that’s the thing; that’s right because I was in music and everybody else was in
something else, so that was the difference. But we always would congregate together, ate
together in the cafeteria or whatever. I remember that part.
16
HT: Well, speaking of the cafeteria, what did you think of the food?
MI: I can’t remember not having any good food. You know, usually when you don’t have
good food in the cafeteria, you hound your parents to send you money for snacks or
whatever. I didn’t do that, so I know the food must have been good because the black
students would serve—you know the gentlemen, the young men from—I can remember
them serving. I don’t remember who was doing the preparation of the food. They
probably were black people, too. But I can’t remember bad food at all. As far as I can
remember, the food was very good, yes.
And I think the school took pride in doing everything that would make our
experience a positive experience. I really do because, I’m telling you, I cannot remember
people acting out—I really can’t—teachers or students because I felt at home. I didn’t
feel anxious. You know, you get the anxiety of class work, but just on a living basis. But
of course, we were with each other, too, so that helped because we were segregated in our
own area and we had the support of each other. But even when going to class or going
wherever we had to go on campus and doing what we had to do to study or what—I can
never remember anyone being obnoxious; I really can’t.
HT: Someone mentioned this early this afternoon in the session about the African American
housekeeping staff. Do you have any recollection of those ladies?
MI: No, I don’t, but I know that they were telling the truth because that is a part of our
culture. When we were raised, of course, in a segregated community, everybody took an
interest in you being the best little black child that you could be. When we would go to
church, [the] first thing the sisters and brothers would ask you, “How are you doing in
your schoolwork? Are you getting good grades? Are you behaving yourself?” Everybody
was concerned that you be the best that you could to represent your family and your
Race. And I know that what the ladies are saying is true because that’s what I do. I do
that now because that’s the way we were raised.
Whenever I go into a setting and there are African American students or children,
that’s the first thing I ask them, “How are you doing in your schoolwork? Are you
behaving?” because that was a part of the culture. Everybody was like a mother or a
father; everybody was concerned. I can remember when I was growing up going to
elementary school, we used to walk to school in our community, going to the public
school, we had to walk; we didn’t take the busses at that time and I can remember the
drunk on the corner saying, “Gurl (girl), study your books. Don’t be like me.” And that
was—It really was that support that was so vital to us as children because, you know,
segregation did what it did to our psyche as black people and to have that support in
every area—You’d come home from school; you walk up the street; you had to speak to
everyone, that was a part of what—“Yes, ma’am, good afternoon Miss Janie. Good
afternoon, Mr.—If you didn’t speak: “Girl, what’s wrong with you? Cat got your tongue!
Don’t let me come out there and switch you!” You know, and they would.
If you misbehaved and they called your parents or told your parents and boy,
you’d get it when you got home and if your teacher had trouble at school, she’d give you
that spanking in your hand and she’d write a note, send it home [with] you—Boy, by the
time your little self got back into school the next day, you were straightened out. They
17
did not allow you to misbehave or disrespect anyone. That was a part of the culture. You
always respected [both talking, unclear]
HT: Has some of that been lost today, do you think?
MI: Oh, you know it has. You look at TV; you know it has. I mean these kids now don’t even
know how to say “please” and “thank you” and give you common courtesy. They’re so
busy texting and looking at the video games and all this other computer—they don’t even
know how to interact with another human being. It’s sad. It’s really sad.
HT: I think all kids are that way, unfortunately.
MI: That’s right. It’s not just black kids; it’s all the kids. I worked at—I still work, part-time—
and I worked at a cyber school and the teachers and administrators were in a
building and they communicated, of course, with the students by phone and by computer.
So one day, the students had to come into the building for something—I don’t know what
they came for—and the area where we, as office workers, were, there was a large area
where we would sit and have our lunch and the area where we had our coffee and
refrigerator and everything was in the same area where the students were sitting, so the
students were sitting in this area and you had to walk through to get your coffee and
whatever, so when I went through I said “Good morning, how are you boys doing?” Not
a one said “Good morning.” Not a one. I turned—because you know I’m a Southern
lady—I turned around and I said, “Did you hear me? I spoke to you. Good morning.” Not
a one said a word. When I walked back through, I said it again and one little boy said
“Good morning” and when I went back to my desk in the area where we secretaries were,
I said, “Do you know, none of these children spoke to me?”
One lady said, “I’m not surprised. They’re on that computer and their minds are
totally—They don’t know how to interact with another human being.” I was shocked, I
was. I was really shocked because you know we as children always respected an adult
and always spoke when we were spoken to. They didn’t say a word and there were at
least twenty-five kids in that room, boys. I was just taken aback. That’s where we are.
You see them walking down the street with a friend, but they’re texting and talking on
the phone. They’re not even interacting with the person that’s right beside them! You see
it—everybody. People walking in the grocery store, talking about what they did Saturday
night or what—got their children with them. They’re not interacting with the human
being that’s right there with them. They’re so busy, so-called “communicating” with all
these devices. I think it’s very—it has proven to be very inhuman. I really believe that.
We got to do something to get back on track. This is not working. You know, these
devices are nice to have, but they’re not creating a community.
HT: They’re almost taking over our lives.
MI: That’s it. This one program—it was so funny; it wasn’t funny either, but Oprah
[television show], when she was on, had these couples on there and this lady said, “I’m
ready to get a divorce because my husband stays on the phone so much he doesn’t even
pay any attention to me as his wife. He’s always on the computer, always texting, always
18
talking on the phone. No marital relationship.” You know that’s ridiculous; it’s
ridiculous.
HT: Oh, I know it. Well, do you have any recollections of any of the administrators at that
time? Of course, you were only here for two years. I’m talking about the chancellor and
people like that.
MI: I remember going to the office for whatever—to the bursar’s office. I remember doing
that.
HT: [unclear] sort of financial aid .
MI: Yes, exactly. I remember that.
HT: Were you on scholarship while you were here or anything like that?
MI: You know what, I can’t remember. [background noise]
HT: Okay, go ahead.
MI: I was not on a scholarship. My parents paid for me to go to come here, but I may have
had some scholarship help because I was a good student. But I know my parents paid for
me to come here and I can remember going to the bursar’s office for whatever was
necessary, paperwork or whatever, but everybody was very cooperative, very cordial. I
can’t remember any negative response.
HT: At that time, there was a vice chancellor on campus. I think there was a vice chancellor of
academic affairs, Mereb Mossman. The Mossman Administration Building is named in
her honor. Did you ever have any kind of interaction with her or Dean Katherine Taylor
who was dean of students?
MI: Probably her, but I don’t know. I can’t remember.
HT: Right. Now you mentioned a couple of other professors earlier: Dr. Cox and Mr.
Thompson. Do you have any other recollections of English professors and history
professors?
MI: You know I took German; I remember that. It was very difficult, I thought.
HT: Was Anne Baecker the—?
MI: You know, I don’t remember whether it was a male or female. And I remember music
theory being very difficult. English was good; I liked English because I liked to write and
I can’t remember other courses that we took, but we had a full schedule; we had a full
load.
19
HT: As a music student, I’m sure.
MI: Yes, and, like you said, we had to spend a lot of time practicing.
HT: Well, how did attending Woman’s College change your life?
MI: Well, I think [that] the educational background that it gave me, helps me to compete in
the corporate world. What happened after I graduated, I wanted to teach the elementary
children, but at the time that I came out of college, they only had high school openings,
so I got married and moved to Washington, DC and substitute-taught in the Anacostia
area of Washington. I worked at Dunbar High School, I remember substituting there—
and I went to other African American high schools in the Washington area. When I went
to the one in Anacostia, believe it or not, the students had hospitalized the teacher. They
had beaten the teacher and I was taking her place and when I went in that room, they
surrounded me—I guess thinking they were going to beat me, too. I don’t know—And I
can’t remember to this day what I said to make them sit down and be the orderly students
that they were supposed to be. But I can remember very distinctly policing; you know,
trying to get order, trying to make them behave throughout the months or year that I
substituted. It was so negative and, you know, by the time you got them settled, because
you know substitutes always were always the ones who they mistreated—by that time the
period was over, so you didn’t get a chance to really teach and that made such a negative
impression on my mind.
The best students I had were the young people that they called “special education”
students; the ones that didn’t have the IQ that the normal students [had] or [those] that
had a physical challenge or whatever. I can remember them being the most appreciative
of my teaching because they wanted to learn; they wanted to please; and they were very
positive. But the negative substitute experience really caused me never to want to go back
in the classroom. So after I left my ex [husband], I moved back to Winston Salem, got a
job at Wachovia Bank and started on the road to working in the corporate world and
never went back to the classroom.
HT: If we could backtrack to teaching, did you do practice teaching?
MI: Yes, I did.
HT: Was it here on campus or in—
MI: I think there was a school close by here somewhere.
HT: Curry School—
MI: I think so, yes.
HT: —which was the School of Education’s demonstration of practice school.
20
MI: I think that’s it because wherever I was practice teaching, it was close. I remember it
being close to the campus and I did do my practice teaching. You know, they taught us
all of the instruments because we were in music education, so I had to learn the French
horn, the violin; I already played piano; I already sang; already played the organ—but we
were exposed to all the instruments and music as a choral music background because in
the public schools, you know, you teach all of that. But I did do my practice teaching and
I remember that it was close; it was near the campus.
HT: So when you did your substitute teaching, were you a substitute music teacher?
MI: No, that’s the thing. When you go into substitute, whatever vacancy needs to be filled;
you know, whatever teacher is out regardless of what her subject matter was, you had to
teach that. So you know, you used their course curriculum and you used their textbooks.
Because of the fact that we were so well educated, I could fit right in. I can’t remember
ever having to teach a foreign language, but I do remember having to teach science and
English and different courses, you know, but you used their core curriculum and you used
their textbooks in order to teach.
HT: And when you did substitute, was that for a day or several days or weeks?
MI: It varied. Oh yes, it varied.
HT: That must have been tough.
MI: It was. It was tough on a financial basis because—Say, for instance, you got a week in
which you knew you were going to have a week’s pay, but sometimes it was a day here, a
day there, two days, here, three days there, whatever, but as a substitute you were on the
roster to be called, so whatever was needed, that’s what you filled.
HT: And did you ever try to get a fulltime teaching position?
MI: Well, not in Washington because it was so difficult to get. You know, DC is a different
ballgame as far as jobs. I tried to get on with the government but you know, you have to
take a battery of tests and wait in line. So I did have my name in—I had my paperwork
in. I never got that job while I was there. I didn’t stay there, but about a year and seven or
eight months, but I did get a job, a steady job, at Woodward and Lothrop Department
Store. I worked in the Handbags Department and that was an education because the lady
who was my supervisor—I think she was from Russia; I can’t remember, but it was one
of the foreign countries—and those bags would come in in huge boxes from China for
four, five, and six dollars. Woodward and Lothrop was a high-end department store. Back
in the sixties they would mark those bags up to forty, fifty, and sixty dollars and I learned
there that nothing in America is worth the sticker price because all the stuff comes in
cheaply made and cheap, but it always gets the price hiked. Woodward & Lothrop was
next to Neiman Marcus [Department Store]. That’s how high-end it was so back in the
sixties they were marking them up like that, you can imagine what they would cost today!
But that was quite an education because when you buy something off the showroom
21
floor, you think it’s worth the price. Never. Even when you buy it on sale, you pay too
much because the stuff is so cheaply made. That was really an education. [laughs]
HT: Well, about Wachovia Bank; what did you do there?
MI: I was a teller. Yes, I was a teller there; I was a teller for First Union [Bank] and I liked
being a teller. It was very—Of course, you know the work is steady and you get the
respect of the customers. I worked for Duke Power as a cashier for nine years, so I stayed
in the business area and never went back to the classroom, but I love teaching, I really do.
[laughter]
HT: Well, have you been involved with the university since you left at all.
MI: No, I haven’t. I haven’t been back and I remember receiving literature for donations and
calls for donations and I’m, as the lady suggested today, [going to] make sure [I] donate.
I’m going to be sure I make a conscious effort to do that now because, you know, all of
the beauty that has been created here—I mean, millions of dollars have been spent—this
school doesn’t even look like the same [school], nowhere near the same school. I can’t
recognize anything on this campus so far that I’ve seen except the Yum-Yum. I
remember that as being our little—
HT: How about the Foust Building next door.
MI: I don’t know if I’ve seen it.
HT: Well, you probably haven’t. It’s right over there; right across the street.
MI: I intend to take the little tour, you know, with the—
HT: Well, that would be wonderful.
MI: Yes, because I—
HT: Well, the former chancellor, Chancellor Patricia Sullivan—She became chancellor in
1995 and retired, I think it was in 2008. She really wanted to beautify the school and it’s
so important. We created a mall out here where the College Avenue is and another mall,
pedestrian mall, over where part of McIver Street is. We planted a lot of trees and just
make it look like a pleasant place to attend school.
MI: It’s beautiful. It’s really beautiful. I was shocked when I came through because nothing—
I don’t recognize anything because—
HT: It’s only been fifty years. [laughter]
MI: That’s right and you know how much happens in that little space of time.
22
HT: A lifetime.
MI: Exactly.
HT: Well, I don’t have any more formal questions. Is there anything you would like to add
that we haven’t covered.
MI: Well, I tell you. I am now retired, of course. I work because [the] social security
[payment] is not sufficient, but I’m happy to be working because—I work part-time; I’m
not going to work full-time for anybody else—but it keeps your mind and your body
active, so my regular senior employment work is twenty hours a week at a youth [center],
the Tyler Youth Group in Aliquippa, Pennsylvania, which is one of the little boroughs in
the area where I live and then I am an active Treasurer and Office Manager of the Beaver
County NAACP [National Association for Colored People], so I work with them and I
volunteer at a daycare to read to the children once a week and they are just delightful.
They’re from ages one to five and they have ants in their pants, but they still are a delight
to work with. So I read to them; I get them books from the library and read to them once
a week and I just love it. So, you know, when you get to be a senior, you do the things
that you really want to do and that you like to do, even though you may not be paid for
some of the things. But I think volunteering in the community is very important because
the wisdom that God has blessed us with, we need to share it with the young people
because, as you know by looking at the TV, these youngsters don’t have a clue. They
don’t even know how to be courteous; how to say, “thank you,” how to be appreciative of
what we as elders have gone through to pave the way for the things they take for granted.
So I think it’s very important for us to volunteer.
HT: Well, I think some of the students who attended the session this afternoon—
MI: Yes.
HT: —seemed to be very appreciative—
MI: They really did.
HT: —of all of the stories that were told and that sort of thing.
MI: Yes, they did. I thought that was really great for them to be there. I was so glad that they
were invited or given permission to come because young people, you know, they’re
living in their own world and the things that you and I went through don’t even exist
anymore. They take everything for granted. You know, they can go anywhere they want
to go; eat anywhere they want to eat; travel; do whatever they want to and, see, just not
that long ago, that wasn’t the case. You know that.
HT: And you and some of the other ladies were truly pioneers—
MI: Absolutely.
23
HT: —trendsetters, when you think about it.
MI: Absolutely. That’s very true. I mean like Jewel [Anthony] said, “You didn’t think about
the fact coming through it, that you were actually making history.” But you actually were
making history because integration didn’t begin on this campus until ’56.
HT: It was a very slow process.
MI: That’s right because in the ’60s when we came, it wasn’t finished. It was just in the
process of being made, in the process of being standardized and then, as time went on—
and now these kids walking here—they take it for granted. “Hey, I’m here. I’m a student”
and blah, blah, blah” and they don’t know people had to suffer to get things in the way
that they are now. Just like the doctor [Ada Fisher, Class of 1970] was talking about, how
they had to fight to get African American studies and get the people that were in charge
to respect them as students, et cetera, et cetera. So, you know, the process is still going on
because there is still racism in America; there are still people acting ridiculous. Look at
the Tea Party and all these other people who are—I mean, you’d think they just came out
of the woods or somewhere, the way they act. But hey—there’s still much work to be
done. A lot has been done; a lot of progress had been made, but the human experience in
America still has a lot of work to be done and we all have to work together to try to
understand each other. Everybody’s experience is different, but I can’t look down on you
for what you went through and neither can you look down on me for what I have gone
through. Everybody’s experience is to be cherished and respected because if you were
raised in a family where all you heard was the “N” word and all you heard when you
looked at television was the fact that “Oh, they ain’t no good; they go to jail and they’re
lazy” all these negative things. When you come out, on your own, as a child, you don’t
know anything, but what your environment has created within you. You don’t know that
I’m a good person; that I work just as hard as your parents; that my parents have the same
aspirations for [me] that your parents have for you.
In my home, there was no cursing; there was no smoking; there was no drinking.
My father and mother worked every day to build us and to help us to be the best that we
could be; always making sure we were courteous and clean and took advantage of
opportunities in the educational system. How could you say I was lazy. I’ve never been
lazy a day in my life. I started working when I was in the eighth grade because I wanted
my own money. I started babysitting in the community. I always wanted to be self-sufficient
and independent, so you come in my experience and just because of something
you’ve seen on TV or your parents have said, that doesn’t mean that it’s true because you
don’t know me. I don’t know you, so just those kinds of interactions with as much as is
going on in America, you can turn on the computer and go to college. Go to college on
the computer! Whoever thought of such a thing. In your pajamas, you can get your
education and better your life and read about and learn about people from all cultures and
all walks of life. So, you know, the public doesn’t really have an excuse for being as
ignorant as they act sometimes. But it’s still a part of what is going on because we all are
a product of our environment.
We all—Look at the bullying and all this negativity. Well, why do you think that
children do that to each other? Because they’ve got it at home, their parents, their friends,
24
their parents’ friends. They’re on drugs; they’re on alcohol; they’re talking and cussing at
children, treating them and kicking them. You know, it’s just incredible what children
have to go through, but if that’s your environment at home. How would you act when you
come out? You act like what you have been taught and what you have experienced unless
you’re a very strong child who goes against the grain and stands up and says, “I’m not
going to be what my parents are.” But that’s a very difficult choice for a child to make
because most of us, regardless of whether our environment is negative or positive, come
out to be what we have seen and learned as children. Don’t you believe that?
HT: That is so true, it really is.
MI: So that’s it for me.
HT: Well, thank you so much.
MI: Indeed.
HT: Enjoy the rest of your weekend here for alumni reunions. It’s wonderful.
MI: Yes, it is. Thank you again.
[End of Interview]