All the Days Past, All the Days to Come

by Mildred D. Taylor

  There had been a mistake on the birth certificate.

  At the time Clayton Chester received his draft notice, he was a first-year student at Jackson College, one of the state’s colleges for Negroes. He was enrolled in the college rather than high school because of the grade he had skipped and his test scores being so high. All of us in the family had always known that Little Man was smart, but his college testing proved it. Maybe too much so. He was sixteen when he graduated from high school and enrolled at the college, but without our knowing it, his government birth certificate identified him as seventeen. It was that birth certificate that caused all the trouble. Clayton Chester, though born in 1927, was listed on the birth certificate as being born in 1926.

  Most Negro babies born in Mississippi were delivered in the homes of their parents by midwives. There were no hospitals, no nurses, no doctors standing by for deliveries. Babies were born, their names recorded in the family Bible and information about their births filled out by midwives who sent it to the county seat for filing. Everybody I knew had been delivered and their births recorded that way. The birth certificates, all handwritten, stayed in the government offices. Very few people ever saw their birth certificates unless something came up and they needed them; then they went to the county to get a copy. But few people had need of a certificate and certainly Man did not, until the notice came from the Army. Then he needed it. Problem was, the information on the birth certificate was wrong. Clayton Chester Logan was listed as one year older than he was.

  He was only seventeen.

  There were other seventeen-year-olds in the Army. They had volunteered. Seventeen-year-old boys could volunteer with their parents’ permission, but Little Man had no desire to serve voluntarily in the Army, and none of the rest of the family wanted that either. Throughout our lives we had existed under the dominance of white people, had been required to be subservient to them, with no equal rights, and we had no desire to go fight more white people overseas for the white people oppressing us here. There would never be volunteering on our part.

  Mama and Papa went to the draft board to try to straighten out the matter of the birth certificate. But there was no time to straighten it out. Once the draft notice was received there was little time for appeal. January 1926 birth certificates had been pulled and despite the fact that Clayton Chester had not even registered as eligible for the draft, the Army chose to believe the date on the birth certificate. The Army wanted Little Man and that was that. According to one of his professors, Clayton Chester’s high test scores and his college enrollment made him prime to be a leader within the Negro ranks of the Army. He could even rise to the rank of sergeant; he could not, however, rise higher. Officer positions over Negro troops were for whites only. Still, the Army was looking for young men like Clayton Chester. So, in the end, there was nothing any of us could do about it.

  Little Man had to go into the Army.

  For Stacey, it was a particularly heavy burden of guilt that he did not have to go to the war. If Stacey could have gone in Little Man’s place, he would have done so. He felt the same about Christopher-John, for we all knew that soon Christopher-John would be called up too.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Stacey and Little Man did not come back before I went to bed. I had eaten some of Big Ma’s good cooking and then, hardly able to keep my eyes open, I fell asleep. The next morning at breakfast I asked Man, “You feeling any better?”

  He shrugged. “What do you think? Least I’m home for now, and that’s what matters.” Then he smiled wide and turned his attention to Big Ma. “Big Ma, would you please pass me some of that fine ham we cured last fall, some of that hot sausage we made too? It’s going to be a good long while before I taste the likes of them again!”

  Little Man did not have to report back to Fort Hood. He was on what was called a “delay en route” leave and was headed to Camp Benning in Georgia, from which he would be deployed overseas. The day before he was to leave, the boys and I went to the Negro photography studio on Farish Street in Jackson to have our picture taken. I was long-legged, honey-toned in skin color, and the vibrant green suit that I wore, with its fitted bodice and A-line skirt cut off right below my knees, complemented me well. My hair was naturally long and thick, crinkly in texture, but for the photographs, I had straightened it. Mama had always objected to my straightening my hair, but Dee had shown me how. With my hair cascading several inches below my shoulders, my green suit and matching dark green high heels cut out at the toe and heel, I was looking good. The boys were looking good too. They were all handsome, my brothers. Stacey and Christopher-John had Papa’s height, but the same coloring as Mama and me. Clayton Chester had pecan-colored skin like Papa, but not his height. His wavy hair reflected our Choctaw heritage and so did the coloring of his skin. Little Man was not in uniform. All of my brothers were dressed in their finest Sunday suits.

  It was a memorable day.

  We stood arm in arm and had several photographs taken. In one we were joking and laughing. In another, we were somber, reflecting on what was to come. The photographs were bittersweet moments frozen in time, for after today, we did not know if we would ever be together again. A week later, Christopher-John received his draft notice and without delay, he too was inducted into the Army.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  Basic training for Negro soldiers was reported to be anywhere from three to ten weeks. Mostly, they were trained to be in service details that kept the soldiers, mainly white soldiers fighting at the front, stocked with supplies. Negro soldiers did the grunt work. But whatever the duties of Negro soldiers, they would still be in harm’s way. Christopher-John was shipped overseas in late April. Little Man was already there. With both of them gone, we tried to adjust to life without them, tried to adjust to the daily fear of what they faced over in Europe and North Africa. Each day we read all the war news printed in the newspaper, and each evening we gathered around the radio to hear the latest word about the war. When I woke each morning my first thoughts were of my brothers. Some mornings when I woke I knew something was wrong, but I had to ask myself what. Then I would remember, and feel that tightening knot of fear in my gut. The boys were not here; they were off fighting in that war, only God and the Army knew exactly where. They could be dead for all I knew.

  From the time Little Man and Christopher-John went overseas, I wrote them every week. Mama and Dee did the same. Papa and Stacey sent their love but left all the writing to us, though they were just as eager for a reply to come. Even when letters did not come, the next week Mama, Dee, and I wrote again. When letters finally did arrive, much of what Christopher-John and Man had written had been redacted with heavy black ink. Army officials deleted all information they did not want us to have. We had no exact idea where Christopher-John and Little Man were. Even the mailing address gave us no clue. Their letters did not show the country from which they were sent, but instead an Army mailing address in the States. The first time I received letters from the boys, I was incensed that so much of what they wanted us to know had been censored out. Later, though, I was just happy and relieved to know that at least on the day the letters were written, Christopher-John and Little Man were still alive.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  The house on Everett Street where we lived in Jackson had never seemed more empty. The house belonged to our Uncle Hammer. Uncle Hammer had several rental houses in the city, though he himself did not live in Jackson. For years he had lived in Chicago, but now was living in California. The Everett Street house was the best of his properties and he had turned it over to Stacey and Dee when they married. Soon after, I moved in with them and later, so did Christopher-John and Little Man. At that time Christopher-John and Man were students at Lanier High School and I was at Jackson College. All of us had gone to high school in Jackson, since by the time we were in high school Great Faith School only went to te
nth grade. Before the boys and I moved into the house on Everett, Christopher-John, Man, and I had lived with other family members in Jackson, and before his marriage Stacey had been living and working in Memphis as a truck driver. The house, though small, was perfect for Stacey and Dee, and for the rest of us too. It was only a few blocks from the college and the box factory where Stacey worked, and not that far from Lanier. We enjoyed being in the house together. There was always activity in the house, other young people stopping by, boisterous moments and laughter and youthful fun. All that ended when Christopher-John and Little Man went off to war.

  Although thoughts of Christopher-John and Little Man dominated our days, our family, like everybody else who had boys in the war, carried on with our lives. I continued my studies at the college, where I was working toward a degree in education and was scheduled to graduate in the spring of 1945. Stacey continued driving a truck for the box factory and both he and Dee, and all the family, were looking forward to the birth of the new baby. With the delivery date near, Big Ma came to Jackson to be with Dee, and she helped to deliver this new great-grandchild, just as she had delivered Stacey, Christopher-John, and me. The baby was born in May at the Everett Street house. Stacey and Dee called her ’lois. Three weeks after ’lois’s birth, Stacey shocked us all.

  He announced he was going north.

  For months Stacey had talked about going north, but Dee was always against it and so were Mama and Big Ma. Papa had told Stacey to wait until after the war, when Christopher-John and Man would be coming back. Stacey had conceded to them, even though we all knew the opportunity to go north was now. We had heard about all the good-paying factory jobs that were available in the North because of the war. Yet Stacey had kept in mind that Mama, Papa, and Big Ma were now alone on the land and he wanted to keep near to them, at least until Christopher-John and Clayton Chester returned. Now, all of a sudden, he had decided to go.

  The morning Stacey made his announcement, he had gone to work at the box factory as usual, but came home unexpectedly soon after. Rie, now a year and a half, was down with Mama and Papa and Big Ma for a few days while Dee recovered from the birth and tended to the new baby. I had no morning classes, so I was at the house. Dee was seated in the living room rocking chair holding ’lois when Stacey came in. Her older brother, Ola, who also worked at the box factory, was with him. Dee looked up in surprise when they entered. “Rob, what’re you doing back so soon?” she asked, then looked at her brother. “And, Ola, what are you doing here?” Stacey passed Dee without answering and headed for their bedroom, right off the living room. “Robert? Something wrong?”

  At the bedroom door, Stacey turned and quietly answered her. “I’m leaving, Dee.”

  “What?”

  “I’m finished with Mississippi. I’m going north. Today.” There was no outburst of anger, no animosity in his voice, just a statement of fact. He opened the door, left it open, and went to the closet.

  “What?” Dee repeated, as if not comprehending what he had said.

  I stared at my brother. I was as unprepared for his announcement as Dee. I went over to the doorway. “Are you serious?” I asked.

  Stacey glanced at me. “What do you think?” He parted the closet curtains and pulled out a suitcase.

  Dee looked to her brother for explanation. Ola shrugged. “He means it.”

  With ’lois still in her arms, Dee got up from the rocker and stood beside me. When she spoke, her words were almost a whisper. “Robert, have you lost your mind?”

  Stacey pulled open a dresser drawer and began to empty out his clothes. “Yeah, I guess I have. I’m crazy not to have left this place long time ago.”

  “But . . . what happened?” asked a bewildered Dee. “I don’t understand.”

  Stacey opened another drawer. “What’s to understand?” He nodded toward Ola. “You’d better thank Ola that he was with me today because I’m sick to death of these white people down here. I’m going to kill one of them if they don’t kill me first.”

  “Robert, you don’t know what you’re saying!”

  Ola moved toward his sister. “Dee, Stacey and this white guy got into an argument on the loading dock. Cracker grabbed at him, hit him. Stacey here was ready to hit him back. Took me and couple other fellas working on the dock to hold him, keep him from making that mistake. Boy’d be in jail, or dead, he’d’ve hit that white boy.”

  Dee listened to her brother, never taking her eyes off Stacey, who was opening another drawer. As he began to empty it, she said emphatically, “You’re not going anywhere, Robert.”

  Stacey just looked at her and tossed socks from the drawer into the suitcase. At that, Dee placed ’lois in my arms and hurried over to the bed where the suitcase lay, grabbed the clothes from it and slammed them back into the drawer, then turned to face Stacey. “You’re not going anywhere,” she repeated. “You’re not leaving me.”

  Stacey said nothing, just moved past her to retrieve his clothes from the drawer. Dee blocked him. “I got a newborn baby in this house, Robert Stacey Logan. We got Rie. You’re not going to leave your babies and me. My father left and didn’t come back, and you’re not going to do the same. You hear me? I won’t have it! I won’t let you leave!” Stacey sighed and went back to the closet and pulled pants from a hanger. Dee snatched them away. “I said you’re not leaving!”

  Stacey now stopped and looked at Dee clutching the pants in her arms and quietly said, “I am going, Dee. Even if I don’t take one thing with me, I’m going. There are plenty of factory jobs up in Detroit. When I get one and get settled, I’ll send for you and the girls, but today I’m leaving here.”

  Dee, stunned, just stood there, holding the pants to her chest, her back against the dresser, guarding it to keep Stacey from taking anything more. Stacey, eyes on her, stood silent a moment, then, giving up the packing, moved past her and toward me.

  “You sure about this?” I asked.

  He gently cupped the baby’s head with his hand. “I’m sure.” His eyes met mine. “I want to see the folks and Rie. I’m going down, let them know I’m leaving.”

  “Stacey, it’ll crush them, all of you gone.”

  “No, it won’t. They’re strong and they know how long I’ve been talking about going.” He glanced back at Dee, then looked at me again. “Cassie, talk to Dee.”

  “You talk to her,” I said.

  “I will. When I get back. But, Cassie, know this. Come this night, I’m out of here.” He kissed ’lois and left. True to his word, Stacey left Mississippi that night.

  Now all my brothers were gone.

  * * *

  ◆ ◆ ◆

  One week later Stacey called and said he had a job. Although headed for Detroit, Stacey had stopped over in Toledo to see a family we knew from the Great Faith community, the L.D. McClaires. The McClaires had moved north at the start of the war, and Mr. L.D. now worked at Willys Overland in Toledo, where jeeps were being manufactured for the Army. Mr. L.D. told Stacey jobs were still plentiful at the factory. Stacey applied for a job and was hired as a welder that same day, exactly a month after ’lois was born. In late August, Stacey sent for Dee and the girls. I went with Dee on a segregated train to help with the babies. I helped Dee get settled in the one room she and Stacey and the girls would share at the McClaire house, then returned to Jackson. Ola and his wife, Sarah, and baby boy had already moved into the house on Everett and I continued to stay there with them. In the spring when I graduated, I too headed north.

  PART

  I

  TOLEDO, THE GLASS CITY

  (1945–1946)

  Dorr Street.

  It was the main street of our community, it was a street in transition, and we lived in the heart of it. At one corner of our block, on the same side of the street as our house, was a small grocery store owned by a Jewish family. At the other end of the block was a much larger grocery store
known as Roman’s, owned by Polish immigrants. At that end of the block there was also a café, a pool hall, and a drugstore. On the other side of the street on the corner was a bar and next to it an apartment hotel. A quiet residential street divided that side of the block. That was Wheeler Street. One block down Wheeler was the elementary school. On one corner of Wheeler and Dorr was a fish market, and on the other corner, a beauty shop, and a little farther down was a shoe repair shop. On the next block going west were clothing stores, a shoe store, a cleaners, and a barbershop. On the block to the east were a gas station, a furniture store, a cafeteria, and, best of all, the neighborhood movie theater. At the end of that block and right around the corner two blocks down was the church we attended. Initially, there was a trolley line on the street, but it had been replaced by buses to take a body to downtown Toledo. There did not seem to be all that much need to go downtown; just about everything anyone needed was right there on Dorr Street. It was a busy street, a main corridor in the city, and there was always something to do, with people walking up and down the street all through the day and early evening.

  There were hardly any trees on the block. Sandwiched among all the businesses was a stretch of residential houses, including a large house known as the Colored Working Girls Home, where single young women working in the city boarded under a strict Christian discipline and were watched over by several elderly matrons. It was one house removed from our house, which was in the exact middle of the block, directly across from Wheeler Street.

  541 Dorr Street.

  Ours was a house of note, mainly because of its location and maybe also because it was freshly painted white and stayed that way. Maybe it was of note too because the sidewalk was shoveled in winter or because the grass was cut and neat in summer and petunias were planted in a front flower garden. Dee loved petunias and Stacey had created beds for her as soon as they moved in, both in the front and backyards. Maybe people took note just because we lived there, a rising young family in the community.