Ruth R. Martin - Beatrices Ledger: Coming of Age in the Jim Crow South

Ruth R. Martin WITH Vivian B. Martin

2022 University of South Carolina

Published by the University of South Carolina Press Columbia, South Carolina 29208

www.uscpress.com

Manufactured in the United States of America

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data can be found at http://catalog.loc.gov/.

ISBN 978-1-64336-315-8 (hardcover)

ISBN 978-1-64336-316-5 (ebook)

Front cover design by Kemi Ogunji

Dedicated to Joe Robinson and Beatrice Hodges Robinson. May their spirits inspire generations living and to come.

At 91, I have learned time and again that our major accomplishments are never possible without help from others. I started doing interviews and collecting materials for this project more than 20 years ago, but I started the work that produced this book several decades before that.

I often reflect in wonder at how good those Black teachers in segregated schools in South Carolina actually were. I think of them when a stray fact catches my attention and I remember where I first heard of it, somewhere back in my early school days. Today, its common to hear people in public life strew grammatical errors throughout their speechhim where it should be he; who and whom often misplacedcausing me to ask, why is it that I, a poor Black girl from South Carolina, know the difference, and political leaders and TV broadcasters dont?

There were many people helping me know better, some of whom readers will meet in this book. Not just the community of educators and religious leaders but also aunts who sent hard-earned money from New York to help pay for my sister and me to attend high school. Aunt Annas home nearby in South Carolina was a comfortable refuge, with decorative touches I hoped to own one day. Sometimes I think I hear her rocking chair.

In the late 1990s, I sought out members of my 1946 ninth-grade class at Johnsville-Simmons for oral history interviews. As a social work professor, I introduced oral history research into my discipline as a way to help students and practitioners better understand communities, their strengths and stressors. It made sense to start with oral history to better understand the times and how my classmates and I were able to succeed against the odds. I interviewed three of my ten classmatesJustine Stephens McCants, Thomas Warren, and Redell Stokes Fieldsand had informal conversations with a couple of others. Only Redell, a retired educator living in Walterboro, South Carolina, and I remain from that graduating class. My husband Rutrell Martin, who died in 2005, drove me to those interviews in South Carolina, which he also did for other projects over the years.

Esther Simmons wrote a helpful letter explaining the role her grandfather played in offering and clearing the land for the Simmons School in 1887. My sister-in-law Cornelia Martin was often helpful with newspaper articles and programs from funerals of people wed known for so long.

My brother F. D. came through with the big find: mothers ledger. The ledger factored in my first attempt to tell this story. In 2006, after my husband died, I took a continuing education memoir course at the University of South Florida that gave me confidence in my storytelling. It was a departure from the academic writing Id learned to squeeze myself into for so many years.

In recent years, aid came from surprising places. I am grateful to Ray Thomas, a lifelong resident of Smoaks. I did not know him while growing up but was well aware of the Thomas family. We connected through another contact I made during research; Ray knew my family and even recalled coming to the gristmill my father ran. In an act of kindness, Ray looked up a record at the county clerk office and clarified other information about property that my father purchased from one of his relatives.

I was introduced to Ray via email by Dr. James Connor, a retired pediatrician living in California. Jim Connor grew up in Smoaks, up the road from my family. Hes a few years older than I and did not remember me, but like the Thomases, the Connors were another white family along the road with whom we worked and interacted throughout my youth. Rallie Liston, a school superintendent who is a generation removed from the Listons with whom my siblings and I played, was a delight.

I pushed forward, despite stretches of procrastination, for many years, not sure where the book was going. I am sure there were people who just thought I should give it up already. Getting the manuscript into the hands of Dr. Ehren Foley, acquisitions editor at the University of South Carolina Press, was a blessing I wish for all authors who are toiling over such a labor of love. The professionalism, promptness, and respect with which he handled the submission was astounding. He understood the work right away. From the reviewers to production editor, the cover designer, copyeditor, and marketing staff, the team got behind the book in a way that was inspiring.

Dana Chandler, archivist at Tuskegee, came through with an image that speaks to my memories of the line of march I endured but came to appreciate at Tuskegee. The South Carolina Department of Archives and History deserves acknowledgement for its stewardship of materials, including images such as the insurance photos of my elementary school, in a manner more technologically advanced than can be found in many states. The professionals who maintain these databases provide a record of people, places, and events that, as contemporary politics illustrate, can be too quickly forgotten.

The major support without which I could not have completed this project is my family, my adult children, all of whom played some role. My son Rutrell Yasin, a writer, did an early reading of a partial manuscript (ca. 2009), while my daughter Sonya Martin Bornheimer was often available to help prepare the manuscript. Valerie Martin set up a readinga performance, actuallyof the first chapter during a Black History event at the agency where she works. The reception was encouraging and helped me to push forward. Anthony Martin, a retired Army officer in his second career as an historical archaeologist, helped me understand the presence of German POWs in South Carolina. Maxine Martin did a lot of the note-taking and transcribed raw materials throughout the years. Vivian Martin, a journalism professor and my collaborator, helped me discover how pieces of my life connected to bigger stories, and helped me tell those stories, pushing for more information and work when I wanted to stop. When I lost my eyesight and a stroke caused other complications, Vivian brought the project home. I am grateful for my family and the many others who helped lift me up and supported me along the way. As the gospel song by Albert A. Goodson (1956) goes, Weve come this far by faith.