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UNCG CENTENNIAL ORAL HISTORY PROJECT COLLECTION
INTERVIEWER: Missy Foy
INTERVIEWEE: Mary Frances Hazelman
DATE: May 7, 1991
[Begin Side A]
MF: If you could start, I guess, with some general information like where you were from and
when you went to Woman's College [of the University of North Carolina] and just some
general information like that.
MH: All right. Well, I was born in Murphy, North Carolina, as you can tell from my accent on
tape—a hillbilly. There was never any decision about where I would go to school or which
school because my father was a lawyer there. My brother, Marshall Bell, ten years older than
I, had gone to [University of North] Carolina and that is the Carolina at Chapel Hill, and my
sister [Grace Bell Gunning, Class of 1937], who is seven years older than I, went to
Woman's College, and both graduated. My brother taught math for forty years, until his
death, at Clemson College [Clemson, South Carolina], and my sister taught one day in her
life after student teaching, and that was when she substituted for me, and that was enough.
[laughs]
I went to Woman's College in '39 from Murphy. And at that time WC [Woman’s
College] had big sisters who met us early and gave us a tour of the campus. And of course
you never saw it, but Walker Avenue was a major street—ran all the way through the library
now. And it was a big campus, roughly the size of our hometown. And I was tremendously
impressed. I'd been to my sister's graduation, but I was not too steamed up about it, and I'll
get to that later. And so it was all really new. The thing that really impressed me was when
we went to Aycock Auditorium. And the junior big sister said, "Now, this is one of the finest
in North Carolina, maybe even in the United States," and she gave us the seating capacity,
and it just went through my mind—you could put the whole town of Murphy and the
cemetery and seat them in that auditorium. So I was very, very impressed with the size of the
school.
And I spent a great deal of time worrying about getting into the right building on the
right day and Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday classes. I was
extremely careful about that my freshman year. My sister had told me in great detail what
teachers to be sure and get. "He is magnificent. By all means, get him. Under no
circumstances, get Dr. So and So." And I followed those instructions. Most of them were
pretty good.
The one thing that she had not warned me about was physical education, which we
did not have in Murphy. And it was recess or then a break in high school. And I did not like
anything at all about Coleman Gym [Ed. note: Mrs. Hazelman is referring to Rosenthal Gym
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since Coleman Gym was built after she graduated]. That was it. And I didn't know what to
take, so I took tennis. And the worst thing about it was those horrible little gym uniforms and
the smell of the locker room. But by the time I was at mid-semester, I found out about dance
groups. And so I took folk dancing, and I learned to square dance in Greensboro, North
Carolina. We didn't—I never square danced in Murphy. That was for the country kids. But
you could have the proper shoes, and you didn't have to dress in those uniforms or shower in
the gym. There was no question whatsoever about my major. I was going to teach because a
teacher's certificate was a good—really a good insurance for a woman.
MF: It still is. Yes.
MH: Now I hope that your husband never dies, but you can always fall back on your teaching
certificate. So I majored in English, and Dr. [Leonard B.] Hurley was head of the English
department. And I did my student teaching. And of course by that time, by the time I was a
senior, I demanded—notice "demand"—seniors—and Anna Kreimeier [professor of
education] was the supervising teacher—and she was superb. And I loved it; made an A in it,
but I was never going to teach. I was going to write the great American novel.
MF: Oh, sure, sure.
MH: And then about that time, there was a little war [World War II, global war 1939-1945] that
had been started. And in 1940, I was engaged to—also a Chapel Hill graduate who was band
director in Greensboro—Herbert [MEd 1953], and he was called into service, and he did not
want to go into a band. He wanted to help the country, and so he was sent to Officer's
Training School at Dartmouth, New Hampshire.
And in the fall of '42, I was a senior and, oh, that was a black year. I remember that
Walker Avenue was closed because they had the ORD camp, Ordnance Replacement Depot
[Ed. note: the correct name was Overseas Replacement Depot], and—which is now a
shopping center—and we were not allowed to walk on Walker Avenue, and we couldn't go
down to the grill on Tate Street and hang around. We had to use the walking bridge over.
Now that was the security problems, which are a far cry from what you have today. But I
guess it was the good Lord watching over me. I did my student teaching first semester. Well,
Herb wrote and called, "Is there any way we could get married at the end of first semester. I
will be transferring to Gulfport, Mississippi, but I'll have three days off." And I had taken
extra courses, and I needed only, as I remember, five hours to graduate and—
MF: Not even a full load. Yes.
MH: And my mother said, "Well, even if you get pregnant—and don't, by the way—you could do
that in a summer school." I said, "Oh, no problem." So I stopped Woman's College at mid-term,
which was January 29th in 1943, and I was finishing my student teaching. I was
ordering my trousseau by mail, and I was extremely careful, I remember, to go to a dentist so
that would be on daddy's bill and not on the ensign's. I took exams, finished grading my
student papers. Miss Kreimeier was pleased, and I was never going to teach another day as
long as I lived. Now I loved it and I loved the kids, but that just wasn't for me.
So, we—I met Herb at the train station on Friday—no, Saturday. Well, that doesn't
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matter. I was packed, leaving school. We went to Asheville [North Carolina], and he and his
family were from Asheville. His mother had his car up there, and she had saved gas coupons
very carefully, so we drove out to Murphy on Saturday, and I tried on my trousseau, and we
were married in the living room in our home at nine o'clock on Sunday morning. And, of
course, none of my friends—they were all in school—
MF: Oh, yes.
MH: —none of his friends—they were all in some branch of the service. But it was just my
mother and father and some of the neighbors whom he knew at nine o'clock on Sunday
morning. And we drove to Asheville, but his father had worked for the railroad, so they were
able to get—they had pulled off the good trains for service people. Well, here was this
antique—it must have been a very, very wealthy man's private car. And I remember it had
mahogany furniture.
MF: Wow.
MH: Of course, as newlyweds we weren't too interested in the furniture. That was what we rode to
New York on.
MF: Wow.
MH: And then he was in—we changed—first time I'd ever been in New York. And then we went
on to Boston. And there he was in training until close to Easter. Then we went down at
Easter to Gulfport, where he did actual gunnery and then went to sea. Then I came back to
Murphy.
Now if you want to know good things about the school—it was arranged with the
education and English departments of Woman's College and the superintendent of schools in
Cherokee County that I was to take my comprehensive exam, which was required for
graduation then. I took it in an empty school building. The superintendent came in, and he
said, "You have X number of hours," and, of course, the room was empty, "and then I'll
come in and take up your paper. You can go home for lunch or wherever and then you can
finish up, and I'll pick it up that afternoon." So it was done. I passed, and on my record I
graduated in 1943, the year I should have, but it looked like just sort of a dummy who had to
go back and take one more summer school course. [laughs] So I have nothing but praise for
Woman's College. And the four years I was there—well, three and a half that I was there—
my sister had said, "If Aycock Auditorium opens its doors, you go." And at that time, part of
your tuition gave you the lecture series—
MF: Yes.
MH: —and concert series, and I can say, really, I went to every single lecture and concert. Now I
bet I heard a few scientific and math lectures that I just sort of sat there for the hour or so, but
probably what I learned and enjoyed most was out of Aycock Auditorium.
Well, he was—my husband was at sea and either that or the gunnery practice in
Gulfport. He was mustered out of the Army—I mean of the Navy—in—with a medical
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discharge, and I had gotten a job teaching in Murphy in the fall of '43. Now remember, I
wasn't going to teach, ever. But if you had a teaching certificate and weren't using it, you
were just downright unpatriotic. And they needed an English teacher, and here I was. School
opened early in August up there. I think it had something to do with student work, and I
began teaching before I was twenty.
MF: Wow.
MH: And in my class was a beauty operator in Murphy, still about twenty-two, twenty-three
hundred people, and she was living—she was leaving her third husband.
MF: Oh, my.
MH: She was the talk of the town, but she decided she was going to graduate from high school.
MF: How old was she, probably?
MH: Oh, I don't know. Forty-five, fifty. And—but she was taking senior English, and she did
graduate that spring. I checked on her. Well, I resigned. I was enjoying it, but I resigned
when Herb was sent to Boston—no, New York to wait for his—and he had a fine officer. He
said, "Bring your wife up here because the way—at the rate the Navy's workin', you might
be up here for a couple of months."
MF: Oh, yes. I know how that is.
MH: And so we went up to New York, got an apartment on 120th Street.
MF: I know where that is.
MH: I learned the subway sy—right up by Columbia [University], and the officers could get free
tickets to shows, plays, and he didn't have to do a thing except report to the [Brooklyn] Navy
Yard for inspection. He got out around Easter, and then we came back to Greensboro. And
this is the same house we moved into in '44.
MF: Here?
MH: Right here.
MF: Oh, wow. Okay.
MH: And, of course, he had his job. He had been band director since the late '30s. I'm sure this
won't be of any interest to the school, but just so you will be clear, Herb is seventy-seven,
and I am sixty-seven, and I got a job teaching without an interview. I was available. They
knew I had graduated from Woman's College the year before, and I was doing it to help my
country. I was going to teach as long as the war ended; then I would quit.
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MF: But how long did you teach?
MH: Well, I got to teaching in the fall of '44, and they gave me seventh graders at Lindley Junior
High School [Greensboro, North Carolina], and I really felt I had kindergarten kids.
MF: Oh, yes.
MH: Because remember, my student teaching had been seniors and living the three months with
all of the plays and concerts and the excitement of New York City.
MF: Oh, sure.
MH: And here I am with these little kids. Well, I loved it. And I stayed at Lindley for thirteen
years until they built Kiser [Middle School]. And, as I say, I was loving it. My husband
taught band in the same school one period a day. And then nobody was really concerned
about the new school until we heard that the principal had been assigned the new school.
And this is a real tribute: Every member of the Lindley Junior High School faculty turned in
a request for transfer the day they read in the paper that the principal was moving to the new
school.
MF: My.
MH: The entire faculty, except for two people. One was for reasons of health, and the other was
there was a Greensboro teacher, older, tenured back then even. But the entire faculty moved.
MF: Wow.
MH: So then I stayed at Kiser until '86, and then some idiots somewhere—I don't know whether it
was Greensboro or Raleigh—decided to move the ninth grade.
MF: Oh, I know.
MH: And I wasn't quite ready to quit teaching. And this is not a very good reason, but Herb had
retired after forty-two years, and I had never beaten the man at anything: poker,
backgammon, bridge. Oh, it was terrible. And so I said, "Well, I've never taught high school.
I'll try it." And the ninth grade from everything that I can say in really only two years has
adapted at high school better than the six grades have in middle school. But now, the main
thing that I can say this—it's absolutely true. In the two years I was at Grimsley [High
School], I never heard any more complaints about the sophomores. All the complaints were
for the freshmen. And for forty years before that, I had heard how poorly prepared the
sophomores were when they came in. Now, it's the freshmen.
MF: Oh, yes.
MH: So I taught for forty-four years. Herb and I together had eighty-six in the Greensboro school
system. And be careful what you say, dear. You're being taped. And this is Missy. [Mr.
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Hazelman: Hi, Missy.]
MF: Hi.
MH: And they're in the den. [Mr. Hazelman: No, they just left. They've gone to lunch.] Well, then
open that door for ventilation there. [Mr. Hazelman: Well, I've got to find someplace else to
see my soap opera.] Well, go into the living room. [Mr. Hazelman: I can't because that room
is covered up too.] Well, your lunch is ready, and you can take it upstairs.
Now sometime along in the—and I'm fuzzy about dates—I could go back and find
the record—I was asked to come to the principal's office, and that was still with the—really
that marvelous—well, I didn't give you his name—E. Frank Johnson—to meet with the
superintendent of schools, who was Philip Weaver, and he said, "There is a grant that has
been offered to the Greensboro schools for a writing"—and remember, I was an English
major—"for a writing study in which you will have theme readers, and what we're really
emphasizing is composition. And it is for the gifted. And the children will be tested, and you
will be teaching largely composition and, of course, you'll have a lot of meetings with
parents, and you will have to go over to the university and take a special course under a Dr.
Don Russell [professor of education]. And he is one of the outstanding experts on the gifted."
And I said, "Well, sure." And he said, "Now you will get two hours credit for that on your
teaching certificate." And so I signed up, had a marvelous theme reader, and we wrote every
single week, and it was—and the theme reader came to the school, and I arranged my classes
so that you would come out of class and have a one-on-one conference with the theme
reader. And then you come back and you knew why you got such and such a grade. In fact,
you got two grades. You had a content and then over mechanics. And it's the best education
thing I've ever seen, really. But that grant ran out in two years. And another thing, they
extended it into three, two of the black schools, Lincoln [Junior High] and Dudley [High
School], and Kiser and Grimsley.
Another good thing, I knew the eighth grade teacher and exactly what books she
covered and what short stories, and there was no overlapping, and it was great. And then the
money ran out, and Greensboro schools funded it for another couple or three years, and then
that died. But that was the beginning of the gifted program, and it was called the AT
program—academically talented. You couldn't get in it if you had emotional problems or
were a potential dropout. You had to have a certain score above, and you wanted to be in it.
Well, I had these two hours of graduate credit. Well, it was a shame to waste them.
As you can see, from all the saving. And at that time, the university had a marvelous
Saturday program that you could get two hours credit. You could get—if you started at dawn
on Saturdays, you could get two hours, and then two hours, and two hours before lunch and
depending on your major. I did mine. I have a Master of Education with a major in English.
But because I didn't want to waste those two hours, I went ahead and got my master's. Well,
then—by the time the AG [academically gifted] program came in to the schools now, I
was—I knew that that should go to a younger person because at that time schools were
beginning to change. And more and more of my friends were dropping out, and when they
got to their—they put in the thirty years, and you could retire. And I decided that the thing to
do was to let somebody else do the AG, and I don't regret that. And what I've seen has been
just excellent.
But the—my—our son [Thomas C. Hazelman, did not graduate from UNCG]—and I
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still think of UNCG [The University of North Carolina at Greensboro] as a "women's
school". I read about the tremendous soccer business, and that's just sort of unheard of. I
guess I still haven't adjusted to it. But I cannot say [I am] an active alumni, but I have always
been a member. However, the sister who told me to go to everything in Aycock, I don't
believe she has ever joined. She moved to Chicago. I don't believe she's ever joined. But our
son—it never went through; it just never came up. There was never a question he was going
there. So, now, have you got any questions?
MF: Yes, sure. You started to say about like how you still think of it as a women's college and all.
Was there something special that female students got out of going to a school with just other
women with no men there?
MH: I just don't know. I was perfectly pleased with my education.
MF: Yes. Because some people will tell me that they felt that they were a little more likely to
participate in things like student government and so forth because they didn't have to
compete with men.
MH: No. That never went through my mind. I've never been a politician, but I remember I was
going to write the great American novel, and I ran—at that time we were voting—I don't
remember whether it was the whole class or not, but I ran to be the editor of The Carolinian
[student newspaper], and I lost. And I worked on The Carolinian as long as—I don't
remember if it was eligible for freshmen or not, but I've been tremendously glad that I did
not make it because both the editor and I married our senior years, and I dropped out of
school and finished in summer school. And the editor didn't—and I have not been in touch
with her since, but I seem to have somewhere in my mind that her husband was killed in the
war, whichever branch of service.
Oh, no. I'm a hundred percent for men, and I cuss the WC laundry. We didn't have to
worry about the quarters in laundry room—the washers and dryers. I roomed in Cotten
[Residence Hall] and then the other three years in Shaw [Residence Hall], but that was
because I was dating. And you could park right on—today every time I go on campus, I lose
my temper.
MF: Why is that?
MH: Parking.
MF: Oh, yes.
MH: And I'm getting ready for the painters, and I was really looking for a book, and I found a
couple of books that I thought that the library might need—old Addison and Steele, 1859. So
I called the library, got a very nice little gal, and I said, "Where can I park to bring the books
which I want to give to the library?" And, of course, you have no idea how delighted I was
that you said you would come out here because of parking.
MF: Oh, sure.
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MH: And—but no, I don't think it gave a tremendous more or less or anything else.
MF: What about with the expansion of the school? Some of the—some alumni I talk to are very
enthusiastic about the growth of the school, and others are very negative.
MH: Well, I think it's inevitable. But I think it's a sad comment that my first complaint was the
parking.
MF: Oh, sure. One of the things I think they're going to build is a new parking deck.
MH: And there was a marvelous English teacher. It wasn't Dr. Hurley. He and his wife both
taught—well, the name slipped—we were at an English meeting in the Virginia Dare Room
[Alumni House]—John Painter, Mr. Painter—and he and I were sitting there during
refreshments. He looked around, and he said, "You know, this is a lovely room." And I said,
"Yes. It's one of the most satisfying. I agree—one of the loveliest rooms that I've ever been
in. And I think that every time I go in." He said, "So do I." He said, "You know, I'm
surprised some damn fool hasn't torn it down and redone the whole thing." And, of course, I
did all of my work in the old McIver [Building]. Now, that did need tearing down.
MF: Well, so does the one that's there right now.
MH: But I hate that new one.
MF: I know. That's what I was saying. Yes.
MH: And I'm so glad that they haven't torn down the—we called it the Administration Building.
MF: Oh, yes, the Foust Building?
MH: And I have a little trouble with the names.
MF: Oh, sure. I think everybody does.
MH: But I won. I approved of the McNutt Building. One year for teaching, I won the McNutt
Award. It was the first year, I think. But, [pause] I think it's inevitable.
MF: Oh, yes.
MH: I'm not overwhelmingly sure that it is a vast improvement, but—
MF: Yes, I think one of the things with the building that bothers most of the alumni who are
bothered at all by the expansion is the amount of money spent on the fountain in the middle
of campus because that was, I think, over a million dollars for the fountain.
MH: The music department has done an absolutely magnificent job.
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MF: Oh, yes—the art department as well.
MH: And, of course, the new art center. And since '88, I really haven't had any contact much with
the education department, but I had—there were very few years that I didn't have a student
teacher first and second semester, and I had them from Greensboro College. I had one from
Bennett [College, Greensboro, North Carolina]. I never had one from A&T [North Carolina
Agricultural & Technical University, Greensboro, North Carolina], but several from
Guilford [College, Greensboro, North Carolina]. And the—I started to say Woman's College.
The UNCG student teachers, I think, are beautifully prepared. And I think I counted once,
and I had, I think it was forty-six, but that is not official by any means, but I never really had
but the two you'd call just real dogs. And neither one of those went into teaching.
MF: Good. [laughs]
MH: I felt it was sort of my duty, and a lot of them just have been very, very pleased with.
MF: Oh, sure. I want to make sure there's—that I haven't forgotten anything, so if—
MH: You may have a great deal more than you need.
MF: Oh, no, no. So, is there anything else you can think of? I want to give you that chance.
You'll probably think of other things tonight.
MH: Oh, sure.
MF: That's what most people tell me. Makes them start thinking, but—
MH: I think the main thing is the—for me—is that it was not my choice to go there, but I have
never regretted or I've never said, "Oh, I wish—" Now when I had to go to that one summer
school to graduate and make it legal, I went to Chapel Hill. But by then I was married, and
that was an entirely different situation. And, of course, the war. And please, don't do as one
of my students. When I said something about the war, and this little kid said, "Was that
World War I [global war centered in Europe from 1914-18] or the Spanish American
[conflict in 1898 between Spain and the United States]?"
MF: No, I'm a history major. Yes, it's kind of surprising sometimes, I know. Well, thank you so
very much, and—
MH: Well, I hope it has been helpful.
[End of Interview]
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