A History Lesson        Who Am I? And What Race am I?

I was born as Lillie Mae Lawson, but what’s in a name? I was a strong Black woman, just as strong as any other Black woman of my day. A woman had to be strong to survive my times.

Home, after praising God in Church this Sunday. 

I was born in Three Notch, Bullock County, Alabama on January 2, 1906. My mother’s and father’s names are Marcus and Mattie Lawson.

A lot of people talk about Race and the color of one’s skin. I could have passed through life as a White person, because my skin color was just a white as any White person who lived in the little town of Fairfield, Alabama. My hair was just as straight and my features just as characteristic as the White people that I so often toiled to please.

I found a wonderful man and got married to him right away. His name was Webster and he was what you might call "all Black". As a matter of fact, if you were around in slavery days, you might have thought that he had just disembarked from one of those slave ships. Webster was hard working and that was the thing that drew me to him. He was also a family man, just as I was and we committed ourselves to our marriage until death do us part.

I had several children during my married life with Webster. You might have heard the names of the six boys and the one girl, but have you heard about my little Otis? He died at a very, very young age. My sons came into this world about two years apart and just when Webster and I thought we would never have a girl, along comes Patricia. She came along when I was in my forties.

Life was extremely hard during those first years of marriage. All of those kids, along with my mother had to be taken care of. My mother was an invalid and sat in a chair most of the time. Who in Fairfield had enough money to buy a wheelchair? My mother had to "walk the chair" from place to place and she got good at bumping the chair from room to room.

My mother could have passed as a White person, too. Someone might have thought she was a member of some Indian tribe, also. Her skin was white but her facial features were definitely Indian. Perhaps one of my children still has a picture of her in an album.

I had a brother named "Kid". That wasn’t his real name, but it will suffice for now because everybody who knew him called him Kid. Kid was the most well dressed person that you’ll ever see. I can still see him with his black suit, white shirt, matching tie and those black and white wing-tipped shoes. He always gave his nephews a coin or two whenever he came over to see us. He had a saying that went like this. "Same young man with a hundred dollars in his pockets." Kid might have passed through his life as a White person, too.

You might wonder why all of the talk about Race. I think it is important because most White people of my day tried so desperately to keep the Races separated. There was a "White Only" drinking fountain over there and a "Black Only" sign over here. Get on the bus and sit behind the "Colored" sign. Go to the outside back of a restaurant and find the take-out window that says "For Colored". Go to the Lyric Theater over in Birmingham and head up to the second floor that had been designated for "Black Only". Which reminds me, Cleophas, one of my sons told me he loved the balcony because it gave him a chance to throw popcorn down into the "White" first floor. It’s a wonder they didn’t catch him and do some violence to him. They killed my 12-year-old nephew for just walking through the "White" section of town. The poor little fellow got lost and ended up shot for his troubles. So don’t get upset when I make distinctions between Black and White. I have been treated White by some White people who didn’t know and treated White by some Black people who didn’t know. Being treated White meant that everyone called you Miss. or Mrs. You didn’t have to call White people by their Mr. or Mrs. titles like all of the Black people did. Mr. Tony, can you do this, Sir: Mr. Jones, could you do that, Sir. All White people of my youth called Blacks by their first names no matter how young or how old they were: male or female, it didn’t matter.

So "Race" was all around me and frustrated me most of the times. It must have been equally frustrating for the White people because they knew there were some Blacks out there like me and they could do nothing about it.

Let me clear up one thing first. I have never been intoxicated in my life. Sure, I passed through the mid-life crisis with frustrations just like any other hard working Black woman of my day. And I did have a swallow of "home brew" once in a while. But I was not intoxicated when I had that car accident. If a policeman even thought a Black person had been drinking, the verdict was automatically "guilty". That accident devastated my church life at First Baptist because the Deacon Board voted to have me ousted from church. I felt sorry for Webster because he was on the Deacon board. I am positive he did all that he could to prevent that action. Webster and I left First Baptist and joined a Church down in nearby Inglewood.

I loved to sew. I think Cleophas liked watching me sew just as much as I enjoyed this past time. I let him thread my needles and help lay out the patterns sometimes. I bet he loved sewing so much that he would make dresses at some point in his lifetime.

All of the churchgoers and neighbors brought material over so that I could make dresses, draperies, and uniforms. I was so good that I got to the place where I didn’t need a pattern. I made a vest for Cleophas’ high school graduation play and I did it from scratch. I could have been a famous designer if I were not Black and not living in the South.

Money was always a problem for my family. My sewing helped a little. I had to work most of my life and did whatever was required to feed and clothe my children. I worked so that they would not only have the basic necessities of life but would have a little bit extra as well. Webster had no idea that I had put a little something away for Cleophas’ typewriter that I surprised him with when he got to the 12^th grade. I always found the time to come to the school and support him no matter how busy I got.

I wanted my children to have what others had, and sometimes I bought things before any other member of our Black Ghetto. I went out and purchased a television, much to the dismay of Webster, when there were few televisions in White homes. (I know because I did housecleaning for the White people down in Fairfield). Most of the neighbors on 61^st street came over on Sunday afternoons to watch Kingfish and Sapphire on the "Amos and Andy Show." They loved Imogene Coco and Sid Caesar, too. We never missed an episode of Ed Sullivan.

I worked to help support my loving and caring family. Everyone had a job to do and that included my children. I didn’t have to tell them to clean the house. They kept it spic and span. I didn’t have to tell them to wash the dishes, because they had special days assigned to them and they never failed to do work on those days. Webster and I were proud of the way they cut the grass and swept the back yard. All of them could cook, thanks to the older ones like Webster Jr. and Freeman. And they gave us little to worry about when they were in school. Most of them carried a 3.5 to 4.0 grade point average. Cleophas carried a 4.0 grade point average throughout his 12 years of elementary and high school.

Oh yeah, once in a while the children did something wrong and had to pay for it. Webster was the primary disciplinarian but I was in full support of him. I was too tired most of the times to discipline them. I even allowed them to select the switch that I would use to whip them. Cleophas was smart enough to bring me a dry twig. One stroke and it would shatter, and then he would take off running through the house with me in hot pursuit. Once in a while I would catch up to him and give him a swap across his buttocks with my hand but he evaded most of the licks.

All of my children had very strong bonds to each other. That is why they had very few fights with other kids in the neighborhood. They all looked alike and that was another advantage. Everybody knew he or she had to be a Mc Alpin. Isn’t it strange how large family members down South all look the same? There were some large families of Blacks living in Fairfield and each family member looked like the other family member. People had a hard time separating them in their minds. For example, Mr. Wilson told Webster that Charles was under the house striking matches when it really was Cleophas. Of course, Charles’ rear end met Webster’s "Doctor Pepper". Doctor Pepper was a leather strap that Webster used to discipline the boys. I preferred a switch, though. That strap was too hard to manage. There were times when the innocent got punished. Cleophas insisted that the cup that fell from the refrigerator was already broken when it hit the floor. Breaking a dish was a capital offense and drew the wrath of Doctor Pepper, so Cleophas frantically pleaded his case before Webster and me. I believed him when he said someone had set him up, but Webster did not. So his butt met Doctor Pepper’s stroke. Another capital offense was breaking a milk bottle. Those bottles had to be returned to the store when another quart was needed. Cleophas fell down the stairs while carrying an empty milk bottle and broke it. He also got a few scars and a spanking.

I loved to make home brew for my cousin, Cindy. She would bring over the ingredients and I would supply the large tin tub. I also went out and bought a bottle capper so that the brew could be properly stored in Coca-Cola bottles or R.C. Cola bottles. Cleophas found bottle capping fascinating and I let him cap off the bottles of home brew when I finished making it. Cleophas thought the alcoholic beverage was the nastiest stuff he had ever tasted. Some of the women on my street seemed to know when the brewing was going on because they ended up at my doorstep as soon as the brew was ready. Webster hated the whole scene, but the ladies had a grand old time sipping the home brew and gossiping.

Webster went out and bought some livestock and I started my farming career all over. I got attached to one of the roosters and so did all of the children. "Petie" had to go the route of all the other chickens and ended up on the kitchen table, because times were very hard. Petie’s meat was very tough and I suppose that was his way of getting even. Anyway, none of the children ate any meat that day and we ended up feeding it to the hogs.

Now the eating of a hog was another thing. A hog- killing day brought family members from all over Alabama: relatives from Eutaw, Greensborough, Bessemer, Wylam and Ensley came for the momentous day. They all arrived very early in the day. The ladies wore white while some of the men wore aprons. All of the children watched with excited eyes as the old hog lumbered before Mr. White’s large sledgehammer. Cleophas always closed his eyes when a hog was about to meet its doom.

As soon as the hog had been executed and placed in a huge pot of boiling water, the ladies and I stood ready to scrape off the soft hair and put it aside for sleeping pillows.

The ladies stood back when the hog was hoisted up and onto a large stand by Webster and the other men. We stood ready to receive the intestines when the men had handed them over to us. We cleaned the "soon-to-be" chitterlings and tossed them into a large bucket. We dissected other body parts and placed them into neat little piles. Doing this made it easier for the meat to be divided between family members.

Cleaning chitterlings was not the only job I had; I also did cleaning and pressing for Stevenson’s cleaners over in Vinesville. Vinesville was a suburb of Birmingham and close enough to home to allow me to work and take care of my family. I learned cleaning and pressing from my oldest son, who took tailoring at Fairfield Industrial High School. Stevenson’s Cleaners was the only Black-owned cleaners in my surroundings and he readily hired qualified pressers. Even though he had this hiring policy, there were few Blacks qualified and I found myself working very long and tiring hours at the pressing machine.

There were a few other Black-owned businesses in Fairfield; one drug store, two night clubs, one grocery store and a barbecue place or two. Employment opportunities at those places were minimal. I cleaned houses for the White people and they gave me pieces of clothing as work incentives. They always treated me nice, but that was not the case for all of the Black people.

It seemed that all of my children would end up in Chicago! I didn’t blame them a bit. There was little opportunity for them in the South. Cleophas went there during one summer recess from school and told us he had obtained a job at a Catholic hospital as a hospital attendant. He did like all of my children did. He sent most of his weekly paycheck home.

I got to be a mother and grandmother all at the same time. It was a common practice for offspring to bring their children down South so that grandmothers could take care of them while the parents worked to save money. Freeman sent some of his children down to me. Gayle, Cleophas’ wife, brought little Duane down to me when he was two months old so that she could get back to work as soon as possible. Cleophas and Gayle must have missed Duane too much because they asked Webster Jr. to bring him back to California 4 months later. I did manage to spend time later on with Kenneth and Duane when Cleophas and Gayle sent them down for a summer vacation.

Cleophas went and did something very strange. He left Chicago and took Joseph with him. He didn’t know a soul in California! Webster gave him the name of a few cousins that lived in Los Angeles; otherwise he was on his own out there. I am happy that he took Joseph along to help with the driving and to help establish a life in California.

I remember the little Black community and its focus on education. We tried our best to send some of our children to college. I went back to school later on in life and got my high school diploma. The school was Miles College Adult School in Birmingham. I was 60 at the time.

Even I ended up in California. Charles Lee came to Alabama and brought me back with him. Some of Gayle’s relatives helped take care of me as I had gotten older and weaker. They were the most wonderful people that I had ever known. Miss Hawkins treated me like a queen and Nannie was a joy to be around. Nannie was Gayle’s aunt and a beautiful Christian woman. There was also Gayle’s mother "Miss Carrie", another wonderful person, to keep me happy.

Cleophas took me to Washington, D. C. so that I could see my son Aubry’s retirement from the Air Force as a full Colonel. There I sat in my wheel chair, watching all of the Generals and other officers pour accolades onto my boy. The Secretary of Defense, Mr. Alridge, shook my hand and congratulated me on having such a fine son. How proud I was in that Pentagon room! I got to witness first hand what a good upbringing can do. I am so proud of all of my children. 

I stayed at Aubry’s and his wife, Patricia’s, home. It was located in a beautiful part of Virginia. Then it was back to California on that American Airlines plane. Cleophas sat next to me on our plane trip and kept me laughing all of the way back to California. He always kept me laughing! The trip was one of the high points of my life.

I was not only blessed to have wonderful children, I had wonderful grandchildren as well. The names of some of the grandchildren are Kenneth, Duane, Donnie, Lena, Vicki, Darryl, Aubrey, Bruce, Terry, Deidra, Sheryl, Janet, Alva, Desiree, and Monesha.

There is so much more to tell. Any Black woman who lived, worked and brought up a family in my time has a long story to tell. But it will always end up a happy story, because we are, after all, very proud people. I spent the remainder of my life with my sons and all of the wonderful people who loved me and took care of me. That is, after all, what life is about…love.

Lillie Mae Mc Alpin

Written by a son who loves his mother and will always remember her for the strong Black woman that she was. She was his very own "Special Black Heroine"!

                    Cleophas Mc Alpin