Mrs. J. was a lovely Negro lady. African American and Black were not terms used in those days. She was middle aged with grown children. She was a widow, and in the course of conversation she told me that her husband had been a railroad man. She didn't drive, so she took the bus from her home in Houston to my home in Pasadena. Probably had to make a couple transfers, but anyway....

My house never looked so well cared for--before or after. The place sparkled. The laundry was done, and the kitchen never saw a dirty plate. She came early and left I think around 4:00 pm to go home. One day, when her last day with us was drawing near, I asked her to stay for dinner with us, but she said she had to be home before dark.

I told her my husband would be glad to drive her home after dinner, if getting home was going to be a problem. I assumed she had to get a particular bus in order to get home at a certain time. That's when I was introduced to segregation.

It was quite all right for white families to hire Negro help, but it was not all right to socialize. Mrs. J. said my husband would get into trouble if he were caught with a Negro woman after dark, even if all he was doing was driving her home after a day of work.

I was aghast!

I remember that when I was going to the University of Oregon, there was some tch-tching over a white girl dating one of the football boys who was "of color." But in Texas was the first time I had any experience with segregation.

Did I live a sheltered life? It seems so. Was I naive? Oh definitely.

Anyway, I told Mrs. J. I was so sorry, I didn't understand why it should be that way, and I certainly didn't want to get her into trouble. She gave me her address and asked me to visit with my baby after she left me. And I said I would.

One day, I telephoned her and asked when it would be convenient to visit, and we settled on a certain day. I took Stan to school that day so I could have the car. She lived in an ordinary looking house, the yard was neat, and there were well-tended plants, but the real surprise was when I got in the house.

Her home was absolutely beautiful! She had beautiful antique furniture, and her home was immaculate. How can a woman keep house all day long for someone else, and still keep her home looking like she had just gotten done polishing everything? I'LL never know. And books! She was obviously a well educated, well read woman.

Mrs. J. served tea and homemade cake on beautiful porcelain dishes, and with sterling silver serving flatware. I felt that I was in the presence of a great lady.

We enjoyed our visit, and Mrs. J. admired and cooed over my baby, and we had a lovely visit. She finally told me in a very polite way that it was time for me to leave, as a white woman was no more welcome in her neighborhood than she was in my neighborhood after dark.

We kept in touch for awhile after that, but she finally let me know that she was a Negro cleaning lady and I was a white woman, and a friendship between us really wasn't possible. It makes me sad to remember that.

Next - the babysitters

Shalom