Oral History Interview with Eleanor Jordan

BETSY BRINSON: Today is February 3, 1999 and this is an interview with Delegate Eleanor Jordan in the Jefferson County Court House, and the interviewer is Betsy Brinson. Ok. thank you very much for meeting with me this morning.

JORDAN: It is my pleasure.

BRINSON: May I call you Ms. Jordan?

JORDAN: You can call me Eleanor. (laughing)

BRINSON: Eleanor. Well, I like that actually. My daughter is named Eleanor.

JORDAN: Oh, how nice.

BRINSON: She’s named after my mother-in-law.

JORDAN: Well, my mother said no, but I’ve always felt I was named after the Roosevelts. My middle name was Franklin. (laughing)

BRINSON: Eleanor Franklin?

JORDAN: Yeah.

BRINSON: And what was your last name.

JORDAN: My maiden name was Allen.

BRINSON: Okay. Well, I know—I want to talk a little bit about recollections of yours in terms of the whole civil rights period; and, by that, I’m defining it from 1930 to 1970 and the effort to eliminate legal segregation in Kentucky. And I know that you were born in 1953 . . . correct?

JORDAN: Uh-hmm.

BRINSON: Okay. So you were fairly little when a lot of the activity, at least in the sixties, started up; but could we go back a little bit and try for me—were you born here in Louisville?

JORDAN: Yes, I was.

BRINSON: Do you recall, uh, from your growing up any, any stories, any people that you knew who were involved in trying to eliminate legal segregation in Kentucky?

JORDAN: Well, first of all, let me—can I go back to, oh, I want to say that I was about seven or eight years old, and I remember understanding the pain of discrimination even then. And I’ve told this story before, in fact, I told it on the House floor and I use it in speeches sometimes. But I remember very vividly several instances where I knew that something was wrong with this country. [laughing] There was an amusement park not far from where we lived and—we didn’t have air conditioning when I was growing up, not many people did then in my neighborhood—but, uh, my dad would, would pile us in the car and take us for rides sometimes on really hot evenings. And we would kind of ride near the river where the air was a little cooler, and he would always stop and get us ice cream. But the experience that just stands out more than anything is riding past that amusement park and hearing the sounds of children laughing and screaming on the roller coaster, and smelling the cotton candy and the hot dogs and the popcorn. And, and--you know, it’s strange because I remember over and over my sisters and I, and sometimes my brother would be with us, we would--whenever we passed that amusement park, we would, you know, you see the lights, the big Ferris wheel that had green lights on it. And we would always ask the same question, “Can we go?” And my mother and father would almost, you know, simultaneously say, “No, you can’t go.” And we’d kind of sit there and then, you know, as we passed it, we’d say, “Well, why can’t we go?” And that’s when there was just this deafening silence in the car. And, you know, my mother always, her eyes would always fill up with tears, and my father would just kind of look away, you know, and we knew something was wrong. And eventually she’d turn around and she’d say, “Well, one day we’ll be able to go.” We didn’t understand why--at least I didn’t--but I knew something was wrong. I knew something was wrong when my mother used to take me to the shoe store, and we had to go around to the back. We had to enter through the alley and sit in this little room. And I could see white children in there trying on shoes, but when, when I would get my shoes they would pretty much be brought to us, you know. And I remember moving in the neighborhood.

BRINSON: Let me stop just a minute. Did--were you able to try shoes on before you purchased them?

JORDAN: I remember there were times when we did, when we did, but I think it depended on who the salesperson was. And it must [cough] have just been a matter of whoever had time to go back and wait on this woman and her child that was sitting back there waiting. And some of the salesclerks, I remember, were very nice and would, would let me try on the shoes. But I do remember a couple of times of just having them brought in a box and saying, “Well, hope they fit.” And my mother would pay them and that was it. I remember, uh, I remember one—my best friend who lived next door—and we were one of the few black families who moved in that neighborhood--and she was white, Valerie. And we’d play together and play together all summer, but we went to different schools. (laughing) And . . .

BRINSON: Where did you go to school?

JORDAN: I went to Carter Elementary, but there was a dividing line. And it wasn’t supposed to be called segregation then (laughing) I don’t think, but clearly it was. I think clearly it was. And then, you know, there were some unpleasant experiences. I mean, when you grow up, uh, or when you kind of, I guess, integrate a neighborhood, you--when you’re a kid, you have some fights. (laughing) And eventually you get to the point where you gain a little respect, and folks don’t mess with you.

BRINSON: You were about how old when you moved to . . .?

JORDAN: Actually we moved on Beech Street when I was two years old, and it’s a really long block. There were only—in that block maybe, maybe four or five black families had moved in. But there were experiences that I remember. Now, you asked me about, about the civil rights movement. I remember how proud my parents were of Dr. King, and how we all used to be called to the television set whenever he was on. And it was, ‘Come, you have to listen to this man because he’s making history.’ I remember the ‘Nothing New for Easter’ buttons, the national boycott. And we got nothing new for Easter that year because Dr. King said—and I remember, you know, my mother would say those kinds of things. And then, of course, when the riots here in western Louisville—that was like ‘67?—oh, I should be better than this. I want to say maybe ’68. Uh, my brother was kind of right in the middle of that, but we weren’t allowed to go out of the house when all of that started.

BRINSON: How was your brother involved in that?

JORDAN: Oh, well, he was a, he was a boy and, of course, when they announced that there was some looting and burning going on over at Twenty-eighth and Dumesnil``, which is like around the corner--that was a real thriving business district where we’d walk over there—you could get anything. There was a drugstore and a grocery store and clothing store and library and drugstores, hardware store. And we’d take our money and walk over there almost everyday, (laughing) and, you know, we’d shop; and that was the area that, where the rioting broke out. My brother, I mean, headed straight for it, you know, to be a part of it; and I think it was because he, like the rest of us, had, had this anger. And he probably didn’t even know why he was breaking windows or whatever, rocking cars, but, but I think all of us grew up with this kind of anger in us.

BRINSON: Would the restaurants, and if there were any movies in that particular area, were they integrated at that point pretty much? Could you sit down as a black for a meal or could you . . .?

JORDAN: I remember my mother talking about the Lyric. Now I think that was the only place they could go. I believe it was on Long Street. When I was coming along, we went to, we went to—there was a movie theater at Thirty-fourth and Broadway, and there was one on Oak Street, Eighteenth and Oak, and those were two that I remember going to first, I think, [cough] but later we were able to go to the United Artist, Mary Anderson, Rialto, uh, downtown. That’s where I saw my first epics. I remember getting really dressed up though. I mean, when you went downtown in those days, you wore a hat and gloves and . . . But that’s where I saw, you know, the Ten Commandments, [laughter] Cleopatra, Ben Hur, all of it. All of the epics that my dad—Gone with the Wind, you know, Sound of Music, I think. My dad was really into it. He loved movies.

BRINSON: What did you think of Gone with the Wind?

JORDAN: The first time I saw Gone with the Wind I, uh, I liked the movie, but I suppose at an early age I didn’t have a real understanding of, of how deep the problem was as far as black actors and actresses having to act a certain way onscreen or else they didn’t get work. But I was a little disturbed by the character, uh, that Butterfly McQueen played because . . .

BRINSON: I remember, but I don’t remember her name in the script.

JORDAN: Uh, I don’t either. But she was such a . . . she was such a clown in that movie.

BRINSON: Yeah, I was disturbed by that.

JORDAN: And I remember being kind of--whenever she would say something, I remember just kind of sliding down in my seat. And, again, you’re not really sure why but you know that there’s something that is not quite right about that.

BRINSON: At what point, Eleanor, did you begin to attend an integrated school? Did that happen for you before you graduated?

JORDAN: Uh, there may have been one white student at my junior high school, but I never really attended school with white kids until I went to college, because I attended [cough] Central High School, which was all black. And that’s when I began to develop a great sense of pride. I think that’s what started really—my high school years was when I really started to pay attention to, I guess, not being like other, like white people but being proud of who I was. And I began to wear an Afro and, as my mother would say, it got worse [laughing] because my freshman year in college I was, you know, the peace jacket, the bandana, you know, the peace sign on your back. And we—I remember, you know, participating in a sit-in at Western for something or other; I don’t know.

BRINSON: You finished Central what year?

JORDAN: In ’71.

BRINSON: Okay. Did you ever have Lyman Johnson as a teacher?

JORDAN: I never had the privilege of having him as a teacher. One of my sisters did, I believe. But, uh, also, [cough] I think in high school I had a teacher who helped me to develop an appreciation for black culture. He was probably one of the best teachers that I had. And I had—let me say this. In junior high school and elementary junior high, you know, I had black teachers, and I had very good teachers. They not only taught us what was in the book, the reading, writing and arithmetic, but they, they also instilled in us, you know, you need to act this way. And I saw those teachers--if somebody came in and didn’t have, it was obvious they had not washed their face or whatever, those teachers would take them over to the sink and, you know, kind of quietly wash their face. If they knew a student didn’t have lunch money, they’d reach in their pocket books and give them lunch money. And they talked a lot to us about pride [cough]. When I got to high school, I had a white teacher named Joseph Ashcanas. I have never been able to find him; if I ever find him, I want to thank him. He taught me more about his-, black history and American history, the part that involved me, than anybody. So subsequently, when I got to Western, I took a black history class because that--prior to that, I think we heard about Harriet Tubman; we heard about Frederick Douglass. But, you know, we had not heard about Benjamin Banniker, [laughing] and we had not heard about Chris Besats. We hadn’t heard about a lot of folks.

BRINSON: What do you mean when you say he taught you the part about me?

JORDAN: Prior to that, history just, history didn’t, American history didn’t seem to include us at all. I mean, I was never, I never opened a history book, and saw any black faces in there unless they were talking about slavery. But when I had Mr. Ashcanas—I think it was the eleventh grade—uh, he went beyond what was in the book and he’d bring in outside material. And he’d tell us about the buffalo soldiers and he, he taught us--I guess he taught us about slaves wanting to be free, not that they were happy and content where they were and [laughing] that kind of thing. But that hit home, I think, to all of us in that class; and we started to take ownership of American history for the first time. So . . .

BRINSON: Did you have any women role models growing up?

JORDAN: My mother.

BRINSON: Tell me about her.

JORDAN: Very strong woman. Uh, she graduated from high school, but was probably the most brilliant woman that I’ve ever known because she read everything we could get her hands on. When we were growing up, she would take us to the library once or twice a week, and we’d have to check out books, and she would make us do oral book reports to her. Uh, when other girls were reading Teen Ingenue, we were reading National Geographic. [laughing] And we didn’t like it very much then, but I understand now; and she would, she would say things to us. I remember she would say, sometimes when she’d be dressing us, ‘You have to be better. [voice breaking] You have to be smarter. And I want you to have that edge.’ And she gave us that edge. And she was a poor woman; she was a maid. But she never let us feel like we were poor. Every Sunday we had to set the table with china, sterling silver and, I mean, a full place setting complete with dessert spoons, even if we weren’t having dessert, shrimp forks—we never had shrimp; I never remember us having shrimp—the water glass, the tea glass. She loved fine things. And I think sometimes her friends wouldn’t understand why she would buy cut glass and crystal when a lot of times she didn’t have a decent coat. But she wanted us to understand what the finer things in life were, and she always wanted us to never feel out of place no matter where we were.

BRINSON: Is she still living?

JORDAN: No.

BRINSON: How old were you when she passed?

JORDAN: She passed in ’94, 1994.

BRINSON: So she never got to see you elected . . .

JORDAN: No.

BRINSON: . . . to the legislature.

JORDAN: No.

BRINSON: She would be proud.

JORDAN: She knows. (laughing) She knows. In fact, I ran . . . I ran for alderman in 1993 and, uh, I lost. And she, uh, she said to me that—I didn’t feel too good about it; it was a real close loss, ‘that this wasn’t meant for you to have. The Lord was using this experience to prepare you for something that’s coming down the road. There’s another door that he wants to open for you, but he had to ( ) you so you could walk through that door. I thought, ‘Yeah, right. That makes me feel a whole lot better, Mom.’ [laughing] I lost by ninety-seven votes. But I think she knows. I think she knows.

BRINSON: Were any of your family involved in like the local NAACP or any of the organizations, C.O.R.E., Southern Christian Leadership Conference?

JORDAN: Not in my immediate family. I think I may have had some aunts and uncles, uh, but not in my immediate family. My mother never belonged to any organizations. Now, she may have, she may have had a membership—she may have sent her money [laughing] to Dr. King: I don’t know. But, no, I can’t remember—uh, when—Reverend Leo Lesser, who was, uh, became pastor of a church that my mother used to attend, and she stopped going to church for a long time. She would still send us to Sunday school, but he . . .

BRINSON: Which Church . . .?

JORDAN: The Greater St. James, A.M.E. church, right at Twenty-first and Oak. And he became pastor of that church, and he was very active in civil rights. Uh, and it was—that was kind of, I guess, a first to actually be, to have somebody drop by the house that we had seen on television marching for open housing and those kinds of things. So we kind of looked on him like ‘he’s the local Martin Luther King.’ [laughing] But she was very interested, I think. My mother never went out and marched or anything like that; but I remember when Ann Braden and Alice Wade and all of them were out there, and my mother, I mean, she read that newspaper like front to back. And she’d always be talking about what was going on, and so when I was growing up, I heard those names, Ann Braden, Alice Wade, you know. And when I met Alice Wade and Ann Braden, they probably thought I was just really dorky because I thought, ‘Gee, I’m so happy to meet you finally.’

BRINSON: Right.

JORDAN: Because I’d heard those names.

BRINSON: Well, I actually just met Ann Braden last week for the first time.

JORDAN: Isn’t she wonderful?

BRINSON: I have been hearing about Ann Braden for thirty-five years over in North Carolina and then Virginia, but, uh, that’s a real treat. Tell me about Alice Wade. That’s not a name that I know.

JORDAN: Well, what I remember about Alice is that--I believe Alice and her husband integrated one of the neighborhoods. I believe they went to look at a house, and uh, I, the real estate agent, of course, wouldn’t sell it to them, and I think that’s how Ann and Alice hooked up because, I believe, if I remember correctly--and you can check this with Ann--I believe that Ann and her husband purchased the house and then sold it to Alice and her husband for a dollar or something.

BRINSON: Okay. That was the couple. All right.

JORDAN: Yeah, I believe that Alice was that, was the female in the black couple.

BRINSON: Is she still living?

JORDAN: Uh-huh.

BRINSON: Is she here in Louisville?’

JORDAN: Yes, you could probably--I think I have the number for her.

BRINSON: Okay. I’d like to get that.

JORDAN: Okay.

BRINSON: Did she continue to be active over the years?

JORDAN: Alice is active now in the Kentucky Alliance Against Racism and Political Oppression.

BRINSON: Okay. Are there other women in particular in the Louisville area that you think I should interview for this project?

JORDAN: Have you talked with Georgia Powers?

BRINSON: Not yet. She has an unlisted number.

JORDAN: Uh, she would be a wonderful resource. I read her book . . .

BRINSON: I read her book.

JORDAN: . . . and I can’t imagine having to deal with some of the things that she dealt with in the legislature. And, really, whenever I think, ‘I cannot do this,’ you know, the good old boys are really, really just getting on my nerves, I think about the things that she and Representative Kidd had to deal with. Uh, I wish Representative Kidd was able to be interviewed but she’s—I don’t think she is. Some of her family members might, might be able to tell you some things, but I couldn’t begin to tell you . . . [interruption]

BRINSON: I want to finish—if there are other women that you think I should interview.

JORDAN: Uh . . . I think, I think some of the women . . . have you seen the Kentucky Woman book, Kentucky Women?

BRINSON: I have. Actually some of my information about you I got . . .

JORDAN: I don’t know if Betty Baye--I mean, I’m not sure when she started at the Courier Journal, but I’m sure she has some stories to tell.

BRINSON: Okay.

JORDAN: Uh . . . Elmer Lucille Allen.

BRINSON: Elmer Lucille . . .?

JORDAN: Who is my aunt, is also in Kentucky Women.

BRINSON: Is it Elmer?

JORDAN: Elmer, E-l-m-e-r [laughing] and, uh, I don’t have her number on me, but she may be listed in the book. If not, if you can’t find it, I’ll call you and give you her number.

BRINSON: Would there be like a street address . . .?

JORDAN: She lives on—oh, what is the name of that street? It’s right off of Linn Rose.

BRINSON: Linn Rose?

JORDAN: It’s a little circle and I can never think of the name of the street. I know where her house is, but I can’t think of the name of the street.

BRINSON: Would she be listed by her name in the directory or under another name?

JORDAN: She may still be—her husband died not long, well, a few years ago, and she may have her, be listed in Lucille Allen or E. Lucille Allen or E. Allen maybe. Uh, but I’ll call you and give you her number. She might be a good one to talk with because I think she was kind of a pioneer as far as the—I believe she was a chemist or something for, uh, Brown Forman maybe. I’m sure there weren’t that many of us around then.

BRINSON: Earlier you referred me to some of your aunts and uncles who might have belonged to NAACP and other groups. Is she one in particular that you think might . . .?

JORDAN: Probably so. I would think so. She’s always been pretty active.

BRINSON: Okay. Okay. Anybody else?

JORDAN: Ah, role models.

BRINSON: Well, or women that you think were involved either as, what I like to term as ‘more quiet negotiators behind the scene’ or women who actually played a leadership role out front, a more visible . . .

JORDAN: Lookie.

BRINSON: Right. But she’s deceased.

JORDAN: She’s deceased. Uh, and I’m sure Mike or her husband, Mike Ward, her son or her husband could tell you some things about those years.

END OF INTERVIEW