Oral History Interview with Mary Northington

BETSY BRINSON: This is an interview with Mary Northington at her home in Covington, Kentucky on April 10, 1999. The interviewer is Betsy Brinson.

BRINSON: Can, may I call you Mary?

MARY NORTHINGTON: Please.

BRINSON: Okay. Um, can we begin by, uh, your sharing a little bit about your personal background like where and when you were born, your family, your early education.

NORTHINGTON: I was born in Addison, Alabama which is located in Calhoun County. Uh, I was born on Sixteenth Street. [laughing] At least I, I think, that’s . . . either Sixteenth or Fifteenth. I have had the opportunity to go back and see the house where I was born. Uh, my family left there in the early thirties—I was born October 9, 1929. Obviously, I was a Depression baby [laughing] and, uh, my father was a tailor. He had a haberdashery and a tailoring establishment, uh, my mother was a, I might say, businessperson. She sold insurance and, uh, she, uh, sold insurance throughout that, that area.

BRINSON: Who did she sell it for?

NORTHINGTON: Well, she was connected with Atlanta Life at one time. I don’t know a lot about her, uh, her activities at that time.

BRINSON: Was it one of the early benevolent societies?

NORTHINGTON: Well, Atlanta Life is one of the, uh, one of the big black companies. [noise] I think I may—I’m sorry. It’s a very prominent company. I’m sorry.

BRINSON: That’s okay. That’s fine. And you were—how many brothers and sisters do you have?

NORTHINGTON: Okay. My, uh, mother brought to the marriage one son, uh, my brother, who I just buried on the 6th of March. And my father brought to the marriage three daughters and it was his, hers and I’m theirs. [laughing] And, uh . . .

BRINSON: So you’re the youngest?

NORTHINGTON: I’m the youngest child. Uh, they are at least fourteen, fifteen years older than I. As I say, my brother just passed, and one of my sisters passed a couple of years ago. Uh, uh, the stories my brother has told me—because of my father’s business, uh, he was, I guess, one of the more affluent members of the community. His, uh, his clients were wealthy people for the most part because he hand-made suits.

BRINSON: In the white community?

NORTHINGTON: Yes.

BRINSON: Any, any in the black community?

NORTHINGTON: I don’t know but, uh, it would appear that, uh, [coughing—Brinson] his living was made primarily—I’m sure he served the black community—but, uh, because of the, the, uh, the tailoring work that he did, it was wealthy people and the likelihood that there were many wealthy black in the small community . . . uh . . .

BRINSON: What do you know about, um, your grandparents?

NORTHINGTON: My—I know nothing about my grandparents on my father’s side, but I do know a little about my mother’s, I mean my mother’s parents. Uh, my mother’s father was born into slavery. Uh, the stories they tell about him, um, his father apparently was brought to this country, and uh, he objected to the master using his wife, and as a result for that, uh, result of that he was tied to a tree and left to perish. And my grandfather was a child at this time and the story he tells is that, uh, the story he told, the story that has been passed down [laugh] because he didn’t, I didn’t hear him tell it. But the story that has been passed down is that, uh, he would carry him water. That was his, his memory of this father—‘cause they gave him no food, gave him no water and just left him there to perish. And, uh, apparently the, the wife of the master had some objection to his relationship with my great-grandmother, and as a result, she had the family sold away. And, uh, my grandfather, as a child—I think he was about four or five years old—as a child, uh, saw his mother and all of his siblings, uh, taken away on a wagon. He had hidden in the barn and his—he was frightened and he, he hid in the barn and, uh, after they were all gone and they discovered that he was left behind, because he was just a little tyke, they let him stay. And . . .

BRINSON: Do you know where this happened?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, I don’t know for sure. All I know is, as far as I know it’s in Alabama.

BRINSON: Uh-huh. And I assume your great-grandfather died, being tied up . . ?

NORTHINGTON: Oh yes. Yes. And, uh, you know, the, the slaves were told to dig a hole and just roll him over into the hole. And, uh, at the age of about twelve my grandfather left. I don’t know whether he ran away or what but he left to try to find some of his siblings. And he succeeded in finding some. Uh, I understand that he found some in Florida; he found some in Alabama. And, uh, he was able to reestablish ties so that the descendants of those, uh, siblings have been in touch—as a matter of fact, I had dinner with one of them last evening [laughing] uh, have been, you know, have been able to be in touch with each other. And one of the members of our family is doing a family history. I mean, they’ve been all over with tape recorders, and uh, they have a lot of it on computer. And they’ve been down in the hills of Alabama looking for family members and so, uh, so that is being preserved, but what I’m telling you is just oral history that my, actually, much older—my brother told me just shortly before he passed. And, uh, that was my grandfather. My grandmother, um, was part of Indian, mostly Indian. She . . .

BRINSON: Do you know which tribe?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, I think it’s Cherokee. Uh, whatever tribe . . . I think it’s Cherokee. It’s the tribe that, uh, was in Alabama, and uh, the story is that her mother—and this is not too clear—uh, her mother worked in the house and my grandmother worked in the house with her as a child. Uh, how they left there, I don’t know but my grandmother and my grandfather, uh, married at Tuskegee. And it seems that they were—this was, I guess, their way of, of, having my grandmother taken care of.

BRINSON: Are you talking about Tuskegee the school?

NORTHINGTON: Well, Tuskegee the town where the school’s located. My grandfather helped build Tuskegee, and uh, so as I say, they were married there. Uh, my grandmother was thirteen years of age, and the reason why she married him, so the story goes, is because she had younger siblings and she needed a way to help take care of her siblings. My grandfather was twenty-five; she was thirteen. And, uh, how--I mean, how much do you want me to go into on this?

BRINSON: Well, I’m quite interested.

NORTHINGTON: Well, my, uh, my grandmother and grandfather had thirteen children. My grandfather was what my mother called a dandy man, which meant that he danced and he was. . . entertained and, uh, he, uh, used to go, go out in the evening and go to these affairs. And there was one evening that he wanted my grandmother to go with him—she never would go with him because she didn’t want to leave the children. And he convinced her this evening to go with him. And, at that time, they had three children and those children were left at home alone and they heated their home apparently with a fireplace and they caught fire. The kids got too close to the fire and they all perished; they all burned. And, uh, my—after that my grandfather said that, uh, he would never, he was going to change his life. He wasn’t going to continue in these activities and, uh, the story my brother tells is that he said that he had led a lot of people to hell and he, and he promised that he would spend the rest of his life saving people. And, uh, my brother says that he, he actually did this. Anybody that he saw, he would ask them, ‘Have you been saved?’ and he would—my brother said he would embarrass [laughing] the family because he would walk up to anybody and, and, uh . . .

BRINSON: Well, thank you for sharing that by way of background. Those are some tough stories, no doubt about it. I, I wonder about your early education and growing up and also the, the saving, whether church was a part of that experience for you as a child.

NORTHINGTON: Uh, well, my mother brought me here to Covington, uh, when my grandmother, uh, had suffered a stroke and my mother came here to, to take care of her. She brought me here.

BRINSON: You would have been about how old then?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, probably about three or four.

BRINSON: So, ’33 maybe?

NORTHINGTON: Yes. Uh-huh. All these things you’re asking me I have in writing someplace but I just don’t remember these dates in my, my head. Uh, she brought me here and, uh, uh, she put me—at the age of four, she put me in kindergarten and I went to school just—did you see the big yellow Art Deco? Well, that, that was the black school. That building I think was built in 1931, ’32 so it was a brand new school building.

BRINSON: Did it—and the name of it?

NORTHINGTON: The name of it is Lincoln-Grant School.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: Uh, actually it was a K through 12 school, and the, uh, the high school part was named William Grant although it was all housed in the, in the same building. The high school was on the third floor, and the, uh, elementary and junior high were on the first and second floors. Uh, I, I attended school there. I graduated from kindergarten and it was, uh, it was a big deal when they had kindergarten graduation. I remember my mother had this pretty—all the little girls wore white dresses, little pretty white dresses and my mother had someone make this dress for me and it had all these ruffles. And they tell stories of how when I sat down, I pulled my little ruffles up so that I wouldn’t [laughing]. And then, uh, well went through grammar school and junior high . . . uh . . .

BRINSON: Did you graduate?

NORTHINGTON: I graduated in 1945.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: And, uh, I, uh . . .

BRINSON: Did you have any favorite subjects?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, yes. Most of them were favorite. I, I was a good student. I particularly—I liked science and, uh, and then I liked everything actually. Uh, I guess it would be easier to say which was not, which I didn’t, which was not the, one of the most favorite. Uh, I didn’t particularly like history because it was dead, and, and it’s ironic that [laughing] that’s where I, that’s what I’m doing now in my retirement. [cough—Brinson]

BRINSON: In, uh, in many communities, as I’m sure you know, the black school functioned in addition to a school, almost as a community center.

NORTHINGTON: It definitely was. It definitely was. Because here in Covington, uh, there was nothing for black people except the church, the home, and the school, and uh, the school was outstanding. Uh, the teachers were, uh, very well qualified. They were concerned about the pupils; there was a strong Parent-Teacher, uh, organization. Uh, because of the segregation the school, uh, was almost self-sufficient, uh, and when something was done, uh, everybody had a part in it. We would put on productions, uh, the Manuel Arts Department would make the, uh, the scenery, the art, uh, art classes would do the, the backdrops and uh the sewing class would make the costumes. We had an outstanding bandmaster, outstanding. If you knew anything about football—do you watch anything?

BRINSON: Not much, but . . .

NORTHINGTON: Well, okay, well—I, I either but it’s just because of the role he played. He, uh, he became the director of the marching band for Grambling, and Grambling has one of the most outstanding marching bands. I mean, I think they travel Europe and everything and that was our bandmaster. Uh, our . . .

BRINSON: Do, do you recall where any of your teachers did their own education?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, Miami University, uh, Fisk University, uh, the University of Cincinnati. They all had masters, at least. Uh, excuse me. [interruption]

BRINSON: I wonder if you recall whether any of the teachers may have gone to Columbia Teachers College in New York for graduate work?

NORTHINGTON: I really don’t remember but, uh . . .

BRINSON: It’s a long time . . .

NORTHINGTON: You know, unfortunately, we should have gone over to the office because I could pull all that information out for you.

BRINSON: That’s okay. Uh, many of the, the formerly black schools today even hold reunions every couple a years, particularly in the rural, eastern parts of Kentucky I’m finding that. Do you know if that’s true here at all? I don’t know that about the urban areas?

NORTHINGTON: There, uh, there have been I guess about three reunions here, uh, that is what we would call a grand reunion because see the school closed, uh, in the . . . I guess late fifties. Well, it closed as a black school: actually, they made it a district school. And, uh, there were, uh, several reunions. I attended I think at least two of them and to my knowledge there’s only, there’s been only one class reunion. That was, what, about two years ago. But, yes, there have been reunions and, uh, they don’t have, have school reunions but every summer, uh, here in this park down here, uh, people come for what they call old timers’ weekend, I think. They bring their tents—people who grew up here, went to school there, they bring their tents. They bring their children, uh, and they, they live in the park for that entire weekend. That’s, that’s an annual event so yes there are, are reunions.

BRINSON: Tell me about your graduating class. How many students were there?

NORTHINGTON: I think there were twenty-three in our graduating class.

BRINSON: Okay. And what happened to you after graduation?

NORTHINGTON: I went to college as did many of my classmates. We had an outstanding class. We had an outstanding class, not—ours was not the only outstanding class but, but, uh, a high percentage, uh, went to college. Uh, two members of my class won national—what was it?—Pepsi Cola scholarships. Uh, there were three—I was—there, there were three of us. I also—I did not win the Pepsi Cola scholarship but I also won some scholarships. And, uh, there were three of us who, uh, were at the head, the top of our class.

BRINSON: Where did you go?

NORTHINGTON: I went to Talladega College.

BRINSON: Which is where?

NORTHINGTON: In Talladega Alabama. [laughing]

BRINSON: You went back to Alabama?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, Talladega was a part of my mother’s, uh, insurance territory and, uh, Talladega is, uh—how can I explain Talladega? Well, you’re familiar with the Amistad? The, uh, American Missionary Association that defended the Amistad mutineers, uh, after emancipation came south, went south and established schools for the freedmen, there were two, uh, black men who, uh, started, started a school and then American Missionary Association came to help them and, uh, they established Talladega College. Uh, next month—the Lord willing—I’m going back for my fiftieth anniversary.

BRINSON: My, my. So you graduated in 19 . . .

NORTHINGTON: Forty-nine.

BRINSON: Forty-nine and what was your—what did you study there? What was your major?

NORTHINGTON: My major was English, uh, uh, not officially but, uh, actually I had a minor in biology . . .

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: . . . and, uh, I graduated with honors.

BRINSON: Okay. Let me stop you. When you went back were you in touch with, uh, what was happening here in the Covington area or in Kentucky at all, most specifically, um, with the end of World War II and the soldiers coming back home there were beginning to be more of a, an awareness, a racial awareness and the development of NAACP chapters as a result in many places. Was there an NAACP chapter here at that time?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, there was. There was. My mother was very, very active in it. Very active. And my mother—and other people as well—but I know that, that she was. I mean, I’m still finding membership applications and, you know, things. She was very active. Very, very, very active. Uh . . .

BRINSON: Do you know about what period that it was started here?

NORTHINGTON: [Sigh] Well, if you want to talk about the, uh, what we regard as the civil rights period, uh, I, I really don’t know but, uh, I would say at the same time as it was happening every place else. But I . . . I’m sorry.

BRINSON: What, what I’m trying to do with this project is to go back as far as 1930, 1930 to 1970 . . .

NORTHINGTON: Uh-huh.

BRINSON: . . . and one of the things I’m looking for is the origins of the early NAACP chapters and . . .

NORTHINGTON: I can tell you something about the origins of some of the civil right activities. I think one of the things that I think about often is the fact that, you know, we talk about the civil rights period, but civil rights activities were going on from before emancipation . .

BRINSON: Right.

NORTHINGTON: . . . okay? And, uh, I remember, uh, you know, some personal experiences. Uh, when we went to Talladega, we had to—well, a lot, lot of people from, uh, northern cities, Detroit, Chicago, New Haven, uh, lot, lot went to Talladega. Talladega is an outstanding school. Uh, and, uh, you would have to change trains in Cincinnati, change from whatever they were on to the L & N, Louisville and Nashville Railroad. And, uh, I remember one, one year we were going back and—I think this was after Christmas vacation—and we got to Birmingham. We had to change trains and, uh, just because we resented it, we decided we would board the train where the white people boarded the train—because blacks had to board in . . .

BRINSON: Uh-huh.

NORTHINGTON: . . . and we got on the train and, uh, it was a protest. And the result was that we had to walk through the whole train, uh, the black coaches were behind the dining cars and everything. And the, uh, conductor put us off, put us off the train. Uh . . .

BRINSON: This was while you were a student?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, yes. It was a group of us who were on our way back to school, a lot would collect here and, uh, we would all, you know, go down together, usually on the same train. Uh, that was . . .

BRINSON: He put you off the train?

NORTHINGTON: He put us off the train. Well, we got back on but, but he forced us to walk along the, you know, the side of the train and, and get on. Uh, another—well, this was not a protest but this was an experience—then we had to change to another little train in a place called Chehaw, Alabama. And this vision stays with me even today. Uh, the train windows were open; they had screens but the cinders from the engine were, you know, flying back and flying in the windows. And I remember riding through cotton fields and the pictures that we see of people with their heads tied up in scarves and they were out hand picking cotton.

Uh, at Talladega there was a great deal of protest—Talladega was integrated even though it was in the middle of Alabama. As I say, it was founded, uh, by the American Missionary Association so that, uh, many of the instructors were white or—well, my German professor was German. I mean, people from all ethnic backgrounds. And, uh, uh, there was, uh, a great deal of difference between the atmosphere on the campus and the atmosphere in the little town. It was a little country town and, uh, it was the only, uh, place for cultural activities in the area so white people would come because they would bring artists and various—and they wanted to come. They wanted to, uh, they wanted a place set aside for them. Well, they were welcome to come [laughing] but they had to be there with everybody else. Well, there was an organization on campus called the Alabama Student Conference on Civil Rights, and this organization was supported in its early years by Eleanor Roosevelt. There, I don’t know the schools but there were a number of schools that, uh, participated, white and black, and they would have conferences on the different campuses. Well they had a conference on our campus and, uh, as—we had, had a social in the gymnasium. Uh, the local Ku Klux Klan burned a cross in front of the gymnasium where, you know, where we all . . .

END OF TAPE ONE, SIDE ONE

BEGIN TAPE ONE, SIDE TWO

NORTHINGTON: . . . to the girls’ dormitory—there was only one girls’ dormitory, very small school. Student body was three hundred fifty when I was there, and I think it’s about seven hundred now.

BRINSON: And what was the racial mix of that student body? What percent . . .?

NORTHINGTON: It was all black, with the exception of the president’s son. The president was white and his son was, was a student there.

BRINSON: I thought it was integrated.

NORTHINGTON: Well, when I say integrated, it was open to anyone but it was the faculty that was—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh, the faculty. But, uh, it was open to anyone who wanted to come, and the president’s son was, was a student there. Uh, I, I was, I guess I was speaking more of the spirit than the actual, uh, yeah. Uh, well, as I say, they burned a cross. And then there was another incident, uh, where, uh, I don’t know, I can’t remember what the reason was, but they paraded, the Ku Klux Klan paraded through the campus. There was a main street that ran through the campus, and, uh, they paraded in cars with their hoods, their full regalia and their shotguns sticking [small laugh] out the, out the window. Well, the interesting thing was, you know, nobody was intimidated. I mean, we stood on the side of the road and, [laughing] and waved, and then we wrote letters to the Birmingham newspaper. Uh, that kind of thing. But the student--this conference on civil rights, uh, apparently was known, created some problems because the young lady who was a member of my class, who was the president, uh, when she finished Talladega was unable to get a job because of, uh . . .

BRINSON: Because of her involvement?

NORTHINGTON: Because of her involvement, yeah.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: And, uh . . .

BRINSON: Were there any incidences that you recall, uh, growing up in, in Covington of race discrimination?

NORTHINGTON: Oh, yes. Oh, yes. Uh, here in Covington, as I say, there was nothing for black people but the home, the church and the school. Uh, there were movies; you could not go to movies. There was a Y; you couldn’t go to the Y. Uh, we had to, uh, walk to Cincinnati—well, didn’t have to walk, but we did have to walk because we were poor. Had to walk to Cincinnati, you know, for any activities of that nature.

BRINSON: Which, for the benefit of people who don’t understand the proximity of Covington to Cincinnati, how far was that?

NORTHINGTON: Oh, nothing separates us except the Ohio River and you can walk across the bridge.

BRINSON: Right.

NORTHINGTON: And the suspension bridge—you know the suspension bridge? The suspension bridge was a toll bridge and you had to pay two cents or something. We would walk all the way down [small laugh] to where the interstate is now and cross the bridge there because it was free.

BRINSON: Right.

NORTHINGTON: And we would walk to Cincinnati for typing lessons. Uh, educationally we were discriminated against because we did not have any, uh, business courses in our school. So those of us who wanted to learn typing and shorthand would walk to Cincinnati and go to night school in Cincinnati. Uh, the, uh, Holmes High School, which was the only high school here—I mean, other than our high school--it was the white high school, Holmes High School. Uh, they had a business, uh, program, business course. Uh, we had domestic arts and domestic science. In our building was a furnished apartment where girls were supposed to learn how to keep house, [small laugh] how to be maids. Uh, also, uh, we had a big laundry and, uh, uh, the, the girls at our school--in exchange for Holmes High School printing programs and things like that for us--uh, they had to wash the football uniforms for the folk at Holmes High School.

BRINSON: And that was part of a class assignment?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, I don’t know how it worked because I, I escaped that, but [laughing] but, uh, we have pictures of, of girls—I mean, people who were in school at the same time that I was—in the laundry, uh, and they had these big, uh, commercial-size washers and everything, uh, washing these, washing these clothes. But, you know, in spite of all of that we had excellent instruction in the, the, uh, subjects that we had. We had classical education. We had Latin, uh, we had . . .

BRINSON: Right. How did the science facilities compare to the white school?

NORTHINGTON: Well, never having seen the one in the white school, I don’t know. But, uh, ours were, were, we felt were, were quite good. We had a science teacher who was exceptional. Uh, uh, we had a darkroom so we learned photography and, and, uh, how to, you know, how to develop, uh, your film. And, uh, I remember that I aspired at that time to become a meteorologist. So, I mean, you know, this was the kind of exposure that, that we had.

BRINSON: In some communities where I’ve interviewed, um, people, they tell me that--they all tell me what good teachers they had--but they say, um, the facilities differed from the black to the white school, and very frequently they’ll say about science programs is, “We had no lab.”

NORTHINGTON: Oh, we had lab. Oh, yes. We had chemistry lab; we had physics lab. I remember one of my projects was making sugar. Uh, our science teacher was second to none. He, he was outstanding. And, uh, he taught us--he taught science and math and, uh, he was outstanding. They, they all were. They, they all were. I, uh—you talk to any graduate of Lincoln-Grant school and I wouldn’t trade the experience for anything.

BRINSON: Uh, in many communities, too, I’m also told that textbooks that came to the black school . . .

NORTHINGTON: Oh, yes. That’s true.

BRINSON: . . . were handed down from the white school.

NORTHINGTON: That’s true. Uh-huh. That’s true.

BRINSON: Okay. Uh, are there other examples of growing up . . . ?

NORTHINGTON: Here in Covington?

BRINSON: Well, uh, you or your family or . . .

NORTHINGTON: Well, yes. [laughing]

BRINSON: Any violence during that period that you recall?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, I don’t remember any violence, not racial violence. Uh, what I remember as violence was what we still have today, and that is, uh, differential treatment where blacks were, were treated much worse than whites when it came to, to, uh, criminal justice. And there were events—I remember a man being hanged unjustly and it was. . . . As a child I remember, you know, the people in the community talking about it and that sort of thing. So, uh, yes.

BRINSON: Was that done under a court of law or that was . . . ?

NORTHINGTON: Oh, yes.

BRINSON: It was.

NORTHINGTON: Yes. No, no I don’t remember, although, uh—I don’t remember anybody talking about lynchings here but certainly in other places where my family lived, I mean, this was. . . .

BRINSON: Okay. Did your mother continue her insurance work when she came here to care for your grandmother or . . .?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, she did other things. Uh, this was Depression time and, uh, my mother sold toilet articles. Uh, she, she did whatever could be done in order to, to make a living. She sold toilet articles, she sold fashion frocks, uh, she worked, uh, she did domestic work, uh, she worked on the WPA, uh . . .

BRINSON: Do you remember what she did with the WPA?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, uh, I remember she was a part of a sewing, uh, program and—oh, it hurts me when I think about it—the, the other ladies that were part of this group, uh, one Christmas they made a doll [quivering voice] for me and, uh, the layette, complete layette and I mean life-size doll and complete layette. I have no idea where that doll is but I sure wish I had it.

BRINSON: Tell me your mother’s name.

NORTHINGTON: My mother’s name is Jane Roberta Summers. Uh, yeah, Jane Roberta Summers. Her maiden name was Watley.

BRINSON: And she lived how long?

NORTHINGTON: She died at the age of ninety-seven.

BRINSON: Okay. And that was?

NORTHINGTON: 1992.

BRINSON: Okay. Uh, did you go back and forth to Alabama at that point, growing up?

NORTHINGTON: You mean to school?

BRINSON: Well no, I mean what happened to your family? You came here for your grandmother . . .

NORTHINGTON: Okay.

BRINSON: . . . and you say . . .

NORTHINGTON: I said there was a big gap . . . [laughing]

BRINSON: Right.

NORTHINGTON: There’s a big gap there. Uh, because of the Depression, uh, my father lost everything; and, uh, the family, as did many other blacks, uh, migrated north. And a lot of them had gone to Chicago so this is where my family went. We went to Chicago, and uh, the family was split up. Two of my sisters were in college at the time; they had to come out of school. Uh, my brother was with my maternal grandmother, and uh, uh, where was Skeet? I guess—I don’t know where Skeet—she was, I think she was in Barber Seminary. Uh, and, uh, everybody had to, you know, try to do something to, to help the family. And, uh, my father went, well, my father stayed in Chicago and--when my mother brought me here--and two of my sisters were in Chicago. One of my sisters came here and, uh . . .

BRINSON: Your mother stayed here?

NORTHINGTON: My mother stayed here. Yes, she never left after she came to, uh, to take care of her mother. And, ironically, that’s why I’m here. [emotional tone] Sorry.

BRINSON: You came back to care for your . . .

NORTHINGTON: Care for my mother. And, uh, I never wanted to see Covington again in, in my life--other than, other than I did come back to visit my family--uh, because, uh, there was so much discrimination here and I hated Covington. I hated it with a passion. Uh, I, when I left here—after I graduated from Talladega, uh, there was a program that the American Missionary Association had in Boston. That’s where--if you’re familiar with the American Miss—okay, you know that they’re housed in Boston. Uh, they had a summer program for students who had attended AMA schools and, obviously, other than AMA schools, and the, the purpose, uh, was for students to come there and be trained; and establish vacation church schools in the Boston area. So I went, uh, went to Boston my first summer and I graduated and participated in that program.

BRINSON: And that would have been about 1949?

NORTHINGTON: 1949, summer of ’49. And, uh, that was a marvelous experience. It was a beautiful experience. Folk from all over—Grinnell, Denison, uh, Vassar, Smith, uh. It was . . .

BRINSON: The people made it marvelous?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, I mean, everybody was—and every weekend we took field trips, you know, you got to see a lot of the history, the New England history. And, uh, every weekend we could go to the Boston Pops and, I mean, it was just marvelous. And the, uh--we stayed on the campus of Andover Newton Theological School and the, the cook there was so very nice. He asked what do you like and he would fix whatever folk wanted to have to eat. And, uh, just, it was just a marvelous experience. But when I left there—my mother wanted me to, uh, come back here and take a job, and I didn’t want to come back here. As a matter of fact, she had gotten a job for me and I didn’t want it.

BRINSON: Do you remember what the job was?

NORTHINGTON: I don’t remember what it was now. I really don’t. But, uh, my roommate lived in Buffalo, New York and I had to come through Buffalo to come back here. I stopped in Buffalo to visit with my roommate and I never left Buffalo. [laughing] I, well, you know, I came back from time—and I came home to get married, but, uh, I, I never lived here again for any extended period of time. So I spent all my adult years in Buffalo.

BRINSON: And I believe you told me earlier that you came back here in ’89?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, ’89, ’90. Right.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: And, uh, because my, you know, my mother was up in age and I had retired. And, uh, then I brought him with me. [laughing]

BRINSON: From Buffalo?

NORTHINGTON: From Buffalo. We had both retired.

BRINSON: Okay. And him is?

NORTHINGTON: Hensley Jemmott.

BRINSON: Okay. Uh . . .

NORTHINGTON: That’s two ms, o, two tts.

BRINSON Thank you. Spell that for me again. H . . .

NORTHINGTON: H-E-N-S-L-E-Y.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: And the last name is J-E-M-M-O-T-T.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: I can, I can . . .

BRINSON: . . . transcription there, so . . .

NORTHINGTON: I can see, uh, the short . . .

BRINSON: Right.

NORTHINGTON: . . . figured you didn’t have all the letters there. [laughing]

BRINSON: You’re right. I want to go back to your mother again and her involvement in the NAACP. Do you—and you may not know this. Very frequently, as children, we don’t always pay close attention. Uh, do you remember any stories that she may have shared about her involvement . . .?

NORTHINGTON: No, she did not. Uh, she didn’t talk about those things.

BRINSON: Okay. Was she an officer in the chapter at all?

NORTHINGTON: I would imagine so. I know she was a leader. Now, whether she was an officer or not—I mean, she was a leader, period. Uh, she was one of twenty people that were inducted into the Northern Kentucky Leadership Hall of Fame on the occasion of the bicentennial.

BRINSON: Hmm. Okay.

NORTHINGTON: And, uh, as a matter of fact, she’s going to be, uh, honored, uh—the Friends of Covington are having a [sigh] program, uh, at one of the law firms here, and there will be an exhibit of her recognition and so forth. She was very, uh, very, very prominent in the ( ) community.

BRINSON: Can you tell me how she—what sort of activities was she involved in . . .

NORTHINGTON: Well . . .

BRINSON: . . . to give her this recognition?

NORTHINGTON: Well, she managed Jacob Price Homes for twenty-five years, which is a public housing project here, the one that was initially for blacks. And, uh, she was a very giving person. She did a lot of, uh, charitable things. That was before people had the resources that we have now. If somebody was burned out of their home, uh, she saw that they, uh, that they had a place to live, that they had clothing, that they had food. If somebody couldn’t pay their rent, she did whatever was necessary. She was a person who was able to cut through the bureaucratic red tape. She was a person who took no--I mean, did not take no for an answer. To give you an illustration, when I was in school, uh, my mother was, was working, uh, and the hours that the post office was open were the hours that she was working. And she wasn’t able to go to the post office, and she wanted to send me a package. She went to the post office and the windows were all closed and she knocked on the window, and the man heard the knock and he said, “I’m sorry, lady, we’re closed.” And she said, “I know you’re closed, but I have to send this package.” And he opened his window [laughing] and took her package. Uh, when people were in legal difficulty, she would, uh, get legal help for them. She, uh, after she retired from—well, she worked for the Community Action Commission also, so she was doing the same kind of thing. After she retired from her managerial job here, then she, uh, took a job at the Community Action Commission and then, uh, went back to school and, and became a paralegal. And this was in her early, late seventies or early eighties or something like that. And, uh, uh, oh, she went to—during those earlier years, she went to night school. That’s how she prepared herself to become manager of the housing project. So she would work in somebody’s kitchen during the day, go to night school at night, and, uh, you know, that was the kind of person that she was. Uh, she was very, uh, very prominent in her church. Uh, she, I guess, occupied just about every office, uh, that you could imagine in the church.

BRINSON: In the church?

NORTHINGTON: . . . in the church, yeah.

BRINSON: Uh, in the, the fifties and sixties, I assume that there were sit-ins, demonstrations, if not in Covington per se over in Cincinnati . . .

NORTHINGTON: There were—I have, I have seen a picture of people marching with signs. And I don’t remember what the issue was, but, uh, it may have had something to do with the basilica because, uh . . .

BRINSON: That’s the Catholic church?

NORTHINGTON: Right. Right. Did you come over Twelfth Street?

BRINSON: I did.

NORTHINGTON: Okay. You saw the churches? Okay, well, uh, blacks did not worship at the basilica. Now, some say this was a matter of choice; some say it wasn’t. I don’t know but the picture that I have seen is people marching from the basilica with signs. Uh, you may not have noticed it as you drove down but when you leave, on your left there is a little Catholic church, Our Savior, and, uh, this was the black Catholic church. So blacks were totally, uh, segregated here, and there were objections definitely. I mean, yes, there were demonstrations; there were marches. I don’t know what other kinds of things because I, I was not here. And, as I say, this was not something that my mother, uh, shared a lot of with me, but I’ve seen evidences of it. I have a picture of her standing at a microphone with a, a group of young black men impeccably dressed standing behind her. Uh, so—let’s see if I can find that picture. [interruption]

NORTHINGTON: . . . and he had a birthday party for her, surprise birthday party.

BRINSON: Uh-huh.

NORTHINGTON: Let me see if that picture’s in here . . . would be--there she is.

BRINSON: I can see the resemblance.

NORTHINGTON: See the Indian?

BRINSON: Yeah, uh-huh.

NORTHINGTON: I’m not sure where that picture is.

BRINSON: That’s okay.

NORTHINGTON: I thought I had stuck it in here. Well . . .

BRINSON: In, uh, in other Kentucky communities, I’ve actually interviewed women who managed housing projects, one in Louisville in particular. And she recalled for me that, uh, she herself was not, could not really be that activist, uh, because—for fear of her job. That it was just understood if she worked for the city, she’d lose her job. Was that ever an issue here for your mother?

NORTHINGTON: No. She, uh—I would, I would say no. Fortunately, she worked under someone who, uh, respected her and apparently was not even aware of some of the, uh, uh, discrimination that people had to contend with. Uh, I remember—you’re familiar with Coney Island here? It’s an amusement park here. Well, the man that, uh, she was under, her supervisor, gave her tickets for Coney Island and told her to give them to me and then take my friends. He didn’t realize that blacks couldn’t go to Coney Island. But she, uh—let’s see, how can I put it? She adjusted in some ways but, uh, she was still a fighter. Now, uh, there were things where she and I differed. When I got married, for example, uh, there were a lot of people who wanted to come to the wedding, a lot of white people who wanted to come to the wedding. And, uh, Mama wanted to set aside a section in the church for them. No way! No, if they want to come, they’re welcome to come, but they sit with everybody else. She would, uh, you know, do things like that because I guess that’s the custom of the community. But I fought it vigorously which is one of the reasons why I didn’t want to come back here to live.

BRINSON: You just found Buffalo to be much more open society?

NORTHINGTON: No. [laughing] Buffalo is, is a big, uh, uh—I don’t want to be, be offensive, but Buffalo’s a big redneck town. Uh, there were other things to contend with there. The difference between the discrimination there and here is that this is open and there it’s covert.

BRINSON: When you say open, what do you mean by that?

NORTHINGTON: Well, you know that, uh, you know what you can’t do. You know what the unwritten laws are as well as the written laws. You know what they are. Uh, in the South, and I’m sure—well, I can’t say what I’m sure of about you, but you say you’re from Virginia and North Carolina. As the old folk might say, people knew their place, so to speak. Well, uh, in Buffalo they tried to give you the impression that everybody’s equal and, but the—you have to grow up black to . . . and you recognize it wherever you are. That’s all there is to it.

BRINSON: I believe you told me when we talked on the phone that you had been, worked for a Department of Social Services in the state of New York.

NORTHINGTON: Actually, it was the Department of Senior Services.

BRINSON: Senior services?

NORTHINGTON: Yes.

BRINSON: Okay.

NORTHINGTON: This was, uh, after—actually, I spent most of my working years at Roswell Park Cancer Research Institute. And, uh, I became ill. I was, I was on my way to law school—actually, I had, I entered law school, and I became ill and had to drop out. And, uh, I had scleroderma. Are you familiar with scleroderma?

BRINSON: No.

NORTHINGTON: Well, scleroderma is, is really lupus. Well, it’s in the same family as lupus and, uh, it’s—they don’t know what causes it; there’s no cure for it. And, uh, I was, I was quite ill. I was on total disability.

BRINSON: And you were at what, what—how old were you when this happened?

NORTHINGTON: Uh, this was 19—I used to remember all these dates. [laughing] 1973, I think . . . 1973. Uh, and, uh, I, well, I was, I was on total disability for five years. I was in a wheelchair. If you want to know if there are blessings, there are blessings. And, uh, I, uh, during that period of time, I just tried to do things to keep myself busy. I took classes and, uh, took civil service exams and, and, to my surprise, I, uh, I was—the doctor was able to do something that helped me to turn around. And I got to the point where I was functioning fairly well. And I got a notice that I had passed this exam and I was called for a job. Well, uh, I went for the job. I got the job. This was a job as a research analyst and, uh, fortunately, I was in the same retirement system that I had been in, the New York State retirement system. And I worked in that job, uh, until I, until I retired. So that, that was my most recent job, with the Department of Senior Services. But, as I say, most of my working years were with the, uh, New York State Department of Health, Roswell Park Cancer Research Institute. And then, uh, well, I went to the school of social work and, uh . . .

END OF TAPE ONE SIDE TWO

BEGINS TAPE TWO SIDE ONE.

BRINSON: …a sense of who you were even after you left here.

NORTHINGTON: After I left here?

BRINSON: Yeah.

NORTHINGTON: Ok. Well, as I say, I didn’t want to come back here. And I went back to school, I had the choice of either coming home or going back to school, so I went to the University of Buffalo, and …

BRINSON: …coming home to Covington?

NORTHINGTON: Right. Those were the two choices that I had.

BRINSON: Right. Right.

NORTHINGTON: And then I got a little part-time job until I got my, uh, until I graduated from the School of Social Work.

BRINSON: Which was about when?

NORTHINGTON: 1951.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: And then I got a job at the Red Cross, and I had some bad racial experiences at the Red Cross, and just other things that made me feel that I did not want to be a social worker. So I felt very constricted by Agency Policies, you know here is a person in need and the policy says you can’t do this; and you know—well, I couldn’t deal with that. So ah …

BRINSON: Outside of your professional work, or maybe even then, in New York were you involved the fifties, sixties in any way? In terms of the whole …

NORTHINGTON: Yes, there were riots—there were riots in Buffalo, and well—one of the—I was not personally involved, but I was involved with a group called, Build Unity, Integrity something and Dignity. I’ve forgotten what the acronym means now, but it was a Sokolinsky Group. I was very, very active in that group. That, that participated on the fringes of the NAAC P, but I wasn’t as involved as I was in the Sokolinsky Group. during the riots one experience that comes to mind—there was an insurance man, my insurance man, he was an elderly white man, very, very nice to me. He traveled a lot, he would always bring me souvenirs and things from his travels, and he really did try to help me. I mean he—he tried to help me because at that time I was a single parent and ah, he was driving through the neighborhood during one of the riots and they attacked his car and broke out the window of his car and broke his glasses, and he came to my house for a haven. That was really as close as I got to …

BRINSON: Tell me about your children.

NORTHINGTON: I have two children. A daughter and a son in that order. My daughter is still in Buffalo; my son lives in Rochester, which is only about forty-eight miles from Buffalo. My daughter is a drug counselor and group therapist. She graduated from Tufts. My son is—I can’t—he’s not an engineer, but he works in the engineering department of Rochester Gas and Electric.

BRINSON: So you left Covington in 1949 and came back in ’89. How was it different when you came back? And how was it the same? Particularly in terms of racial relations.

NORTHINGTON: Well, race relations had improved to a great extent. I’m involved in a number of civic groups. One of the things that we did was found the Northern Kentucky African American Heritage Task Force. The purpose of which is to discover and preserve history in thirteen counties in Northern Kentucky, and one of the things that I had insisted upon that it was not a black group. It is a group of people who are concerned about correcting, righting our history in Kentucky, particularly in Northern Kentucky. I’ve sat on a library board, which I

would not have been able to do at that time; we couldn’t even go to the library. I don’t remember going to the Public Library in school. I mean there was a library in our school, a very fine library as a matter of fact, but, of course, it did not provide the foundations that the public library would provide; but I, you know, picked that up when I went to college ( ). It’s just a totally different …

BRINSON: With the closing of black schools with integration, in hindsight, how do you see that? Was it good for the black community, or was it not so good?

NORTHINGTON: I would say, immediately not so good. I think the reason why our school was one of excellence was because people were doing something for themselves, and there were interest in the people—teaching was not a job—teaching was a life’s work I think there was strength in being together, with desegregation that strength has dissipated, the fact that the schools are desegregated doesn’t mean that minds are changed. Our children re still subject—or are now subject, I think, to a much opportunity for education. It is not just a black and white thing, I think the attitude towards education, period, that black kids are at a great disadvantage. Most of their teachers are white, they don’t get—the teachers don’t understand the kids—the kids don’t understand the teachers. When we were in school we got black history every day, it was a part of our—I mean we were not talking about Black History Month—it was a daily thing.

BRINSON: Well tell me about that. What do you mean it was a daily thing? You were learning about …

NORTHINGTON: Yes!

BRINSON: …people in black history?

NORTHINGTON: Yes. Yes. Ahm, we would—the teachers would talk about it—they whenever there was a program for example, we went to see Paul Robeson in Othello, they took us to see Marion Anderson; we learned the names of people—you know all kids know now is, is Martin Luther King, Malcolm X. and Rosa Park.

BRINSON: Right. Right. Now when you went to see Paul Robeson and Marion Anderson, was that in Cincinnati?

NORTHINGTON: In Cincinnati. Yes.

BRINSON: Ok. Talk to me about the demographics of the black community here, from when you were growing up and now. Is it larger? Have people migrated in, migrated out?

NORTHINGTON: Out. People—the people who could have added strength to the community, for the most part, have gone. Ahm, and when the folk who wanted to stay here wanted to find a decent place to live, nobody would rent to them. I mean we are looking for a house now, you know in spite of all of the things, they say there are still roadblocks in your way. Ahm, I tried to—even before I moved out here—I tried to get my mother to move to a—what I would consider at that time a nicer place. And she was supportive of that. She was willing to: I found a house, I mean it wasn’t in a fancy neighborhood, but it was a nice house, it had a garage, and the house was for sale and when I inquired about it, all of a sudden it is no longer available. I mean you can recognize these things that are happening. I mean this is probably in the eighties.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: So it is still here. It’s still here.

BRINSON: And you think that people left because the opportunities were better?

NORTHINGTON: They couldn’t get jobs they couldn’t get decent places to live, so most of them are in Cincinnati. There are still loads of people who grew up here in Covington, in the area; but they live in Cincinnati. And so most of these, you know when the school was closed there was a black intelligencia, but there was a group the teachers, they—they were people who did cultural things—when they desegregated the schools they didn’t hire the black teachers. The black teachers left. And that was the foundation of the community so the teachers left, anybody who had anything else to contribute to the community, couldn’t find a place to live,; find a job, they left. So what you have here primarily is, is people with not a n awful lot of aspirations. Ahm, you know, that’s not to say that there are not good people here and people who do things and who are trying to do things, but, ah …

BRINSON: Right. Do you have any sense, what percentage of the population in Covington and Newport are black?

NORTHINGTON: In Covington, I think—I don’t know very much about Newport, it is even smaller in Newport—but I think there are about two to three thousand blacks in Covington. But you see this area is becoming regional now so that what used to be Covington—there are black people moving in the area, and you know there are a lot of black folk who have a lot to contribute, but for the most part they are young, they are—they have jobs that allow them to, you know, live elsewhere and so they all spread out in the community, they don’t even know each other. We went to an affair one time—there was a young lady, who e is the development officer for schools unions, whatever it is.

BRINSON: Union Institute?

NORTHINGTON: Union Institute, thank you. And she said, “Where are the black people around here? You are the first black people I’ve seen.” Well you drive down Greenup Street you’re going to see as many black people as you want to see; but you know she lives over on Garrard where black people never lived before. But you see, new people coming into the community don’t know what the restrictions used to be. Those of us who grew up here have the residues of that still, you know. And, but, you know they don’t know so they go to Fort Mitchell, they go to Fort Thomas, Edgewood, wherever, but there is one here and one there and their paths don’t cross. They go to their jobs, they probably go to Cincinnati for their activities, so …

BRINSON: I want to ask you—I’m not quite sure how to ask this—but it’s, it seems to me that the proximity between, Northern Kentucky and Cincinnati, and the fact that you are dealing with two states, certainly must have complicated things in terms of race relations over the years.

NORTHINGTON: Ahm, complicates …hmmm…well …

BRINSON: Were things any better in Cincinnati? How would you compare the race relations …

NORTHINGTON: Only somewhat—only somewhat, Cincinnati is only a bigger version of—a bigger, more developed, more complex version of Covington when it comes to race relations. There are more black people there, there are black people who have resources that enabled them to do more…

BRINSON: Without having researched this now, I also wonder if laws and regulations differed at different periods, say twentieth century history, so that for example when Kentucky had various segregation laws, were those comparable in Ohio?

NORTHINGTON: Hum-hum.

BRINSON: They were.

NORTHINGTON: I remember as a child once we wanted to go to the movie, we had to go to Cincinnati, and we had to go to a black movie. They were little old dirty, dingy rats running across your feet, movie theatre. I remember the Albee which was a big theatre in downtown Cincinnati, it is no longer there now, it was on Fountain Square. Blacks could not go to them. My brother tells the story—my brother attended school at Withrow High in Cincinnati, and that is another story.

BRINSON: Is that a black school?

NORTHINGTON: No. Withrow at that time was a very—well it was integrated, but it was in an area where most of the students were white. My brother happened to go there because as a child, our family had to find ways to survive and he was brought here by my grandfather and this was the result of racial incidences in the South. They had to leave for safety. My grandfather brought them here. My mother was the only girl of fifteen children, so these were all boys, all men and so, you know, the things that men had to contend with, so he brought them all here. Not all of them, some of them, some were grown and had already come to the South. But anyway, my brother did odd jobs for a family, and this was a white family, and they moved to Pleasant Ridge, a ( ) area in Cincinnati. And they took him into their home and he went to school with their daughters at Withrow. He tells the story that one day something came up and they dismissed the pupils from school and one of his classmates, who was white, said, “So Walt, let’s go downtown to the Albee to a movie.” And he said, “Well, I had something else I had to do today.” He said, “Well how could you plan to do something when you didn’t know we were going to be out of school?” He said, “Well, the truth of the matter is I don’t have any money.” And he said, “You don’t need any money. I asked you to go.” And he said, “Have you ever seen any black people in the Albee?” And he said, “I’ve never really thought about it.” And he said, “Well, we can’t go in the Albee.” And so you know, Cincinnati was just as bad. I remember going to Cincinnati to a dentist and came to the realization that there was a white waiting room and a black waiting room. They didn’t have signs on them but that was the way they—and I just walked out the door. When I came to the realization what was going on.

BRINSON: How old were you at that point?

NORTHINGTON: Ahm, it was probably when I was at Talladega in my teens.

BRINSON: What about other health care facilities when you were growing up, before you left here? What did you do for health care in the black community?

NORTHINGTON: Ah, there was a lot of discrimination. Ah, St. Luke’s Hospital , which was the—the largest hospital here. There were two, St. Elizabeth’s and Booth, which was the Salvation Army Hospital. The person that I call Daddy Stewart--and I think my mother as well--yes, they had the occasion to have to go to Booth Hospital, and they were forced to wait; you know a person came in after them, a white person came in after them. Daddy Stewart was sitting there bleeding and it was this kind of thing. And at St. Elizabeth—there were black physicians here—that was something, you see there were black professionals here and everything, all these people are gone now.

BRINSON: But there was no black hospital?

NORTHINGTON: No black hospital, no. There were black physicians, but they could not practice in the white hospital. If one of their patients had to go to the hospital, they had to turn them over to a white doctor. And my mother, you know, tried to get the best of care for me, of course quickly, as they say as a child and she took me to the children’s hospital in Cincinnati, and she said that she became concerned that they were using me as a guinea pig. So she took me away from there. So these are the kinds of things that I …

BRINSON: Was the children’s hospital a predominantly white patient population, do you think at that point in time? Do you think that they were using you as a guinea pig …?

NORTHINGTON: Well that was her—that was her interpretation not mine. You know, I …

BRINSON: So it may have been race, or it may have been that they were just doing research.

NORTHINGTON: It could have been, I really don’t know on that.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: But you know, it was the feeling that she had.

BRINSON: Is there any written material, sort of history of—sort of black history in the area, that you could direct me to?

NORTHINGTON: Hum-hum. That’s why I said that I should have taken you over to the office. That we—over at Lincoln-Grant School in the center itself—it is a center now, a Community Center, ah, they are developing—they have a black museum, they are developing a black museum, and we have our office on the second floor, where I have answers to a lot of these questions. that you are asking me. The reason why I wanted to come here, was because people are in and out of the office and there was not going to be—I mean I could—there might have been, but I couldn’t assure you that you know, there would be no interruptions there.

BRINSON: Thank you very much. [tape goes off and on] We were talking about …

NORTHINGTON: …what you really want to hear.

BRINSON: ( ).

NORTHINGTON: Well thee was a chapter, my mother and Mr. Knox, and Mr. Knox can tell you who else was involved, and there is another lady, her name is Marilyn Smith, who has lived here all along, she can tell you about it—her husband is dead now, but he was very active in these things. After that chapter became dormant then a new person came into the community—one of the ministers of one of the churches here, and he decided that he wanted to start another NAACP chapter, well the ( ) revived the one that was already in existence, that one was called I think the Northern Kentucky Chapter—the old one. Then he applied for a charter and received one for a Covington Chapter.

BRINSON: And what period approximately are you talking about?

NORTHINGTON: Ah, that has been in the past ten years.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: That he has done that, and the NAACP home office apparently doesn’t know that Covington is a part of Northern Kentucky. I have a feeling that if they were aware of …

BRINSON: Ok. And the ministers names is—do you remember, that started the new chapter?

NORTHINGTON: Yes, ah, …

BRINSON: We can come back …

NORTHINGTON: I’m getting old—ah, oh, there is no way—[-Brinson is talking underneath her, but cannot be understood] there is no way that I can …

BRINSON: Eleanor Jordan, I don’t know if you know here or not, she is the delegate from Louisville and she is black and she chaired this Medicare Managed Community in the legislature, and the Reverend Donald Newberry is the Pastor now of the church that you …

NORTHINGTON: No, he is the former Pastor, he is no longer here.

BRINSON: Former Pastor.

NORTHINGTON: He went to Cincinnati.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: And he …

BRINSON: He left here?

NORTHINGTON: Ah, yeah, actually there are about thirteen black churches in Covington, I think only two of the ministers live here.

BRINSON: Hum. Tell me about your church growing up here.

NORTHINGTON: I grew up in the African American Episcopal Church. Are you familiar with the church? I ask the question because …

BRINSON: A little.

NORTHINGTON Ok. Any church grew out of protest. In Philadelphia, what was then known as the United Methodist Church, blacks and whites worshipped together. One of the communicants, Richard Allen, attended this church and he, and [Northington walks away from mike] and he and I guess a couple of other folk had gone to the alter to pray and …

BRINSON: When was this?

NORHTINGTON: I think seventeen …

BRINSON: Seventeen eighty seven.

NORHTINGTON: Right. And they were told to get up and they weren’t permitted to come to the alter because they were black. They got up and walked out of the church, Richard Allen was a blacksmith and they founded the church in his blacksmith shop and they are all over the country.

BRINSON: Do yo know how old the AME church is here in Covington? How far back does it go?

NORTHINGTON: Hmmm to the late eighteen hundreds, probably.

BRINSON: Ok. How big of a church was it when you were growing up?

NORTHINGTON: Ahm, I can’t tell you how many communicants we have but it is a reasonably good sized church. I don’t know.

BRINSON: A hundred, or eighty or …

NORTHINGTON: Oh, I would say a hundred to two hundred, something like that.

BRINSON: Is the church still there?

NORTHINGTON: Oh, yes.

BRINSON: Where …

NORTHINGTON: On Lynn Street.

BRINSON: Lynn Street. Ok.

NORTHINGTON: And Lynn Street is one block long.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: So it is one of those few—Main Street—Lynn Street—well, Tenth—Robbins and Lynn.

BRINSON: Ok.

NORTHINGTON: Then Eleventh, Twelfth

BRINSON: Ok. Was your involvement in the church when you were growing up—what was that like for you?

NORTHINGTON: Ah, I was very much involved in the church, ah, I was active in the Sunday School. Oh, that brings to mind a protest action; once again I apologize for my desk, ah, this is the St. James …

BRINSON: ( ).

NORTHINGTON: This is the …

BRINSON: …African Episcopal Church, right, 120 Lynn Street, established 1869. Ok. So you were …

NORTHINGTON: [from a distance, she has left the mike] I’m sorry, I thought I had one right here and we also had a minister—he was very much concerned, his name was Andrew White, and he became the Director of Religious Education for the entire denomination. He moved to Nashville from here and ahm, I remember going to a Sunday School convention, I was the oldest one in the group, we had to catch the train to go some place down in Kentucky and I just refused to go into the white waiting room—excuse me into the black waiting room. I went into the white waiting room and, ah, I guess the man thought

END OF SIDE ONE TAPE TWO

END OF INTERVIEW.