Part VII - My "Englightenment"

The title of this post totally squares with the overall blog title of "Never Too Late to Learn".  More specifically, my focus is in regards to racism and prejudice against African-American (people of color) people.  

As with so many learning experiences in life, they come much later on in life - IF one is capable to recognize them and open enough to change.  Some people refuse to accept any change at some "line in the sand" time frame.  In my view, they have ceased to exist as a "being" at that moment even though their hearts continue to beat and their lungs continue to breathe.  I am sure there are philosophical definitions for this, but I prefer to use plain English.

If I had to pick out one thing that became a catalyst for me to change is the whole concept of  "white privilege".  I first heard of the term from our son Paul who spent a significant part of his career in the academic world working at various colleges and universities.  Initially, I was offended by the term and denied it applied to me.  Who me?  Privileged?  I grew up 100% blue collar with all "the trimmings".  More on those experiences in future posts.  But for now, there is NO WAY that I could accept the fact that I was privileged. 

But I fully embrace it today.  Subsequent postings will focus on my transition into acceptance of it, albeit over decades.  

Part VI - Elementary Schools in the Neighborhood

St. Paul Lutheran, St. Mary's Catholic, & Riverdale Branch 

The above-named schools were basically the only three elementary schools anyone in our neighborhood attended.

Quite a few of the kids on our street attended St. Paul Lutheran - which was located on the south side of 138th. Street - making it technically in the suburb of Dolton.  My dad went to school there from middle grades through 8th. grade.  In fact, one of his teachers, who also was mine, was Mr. Bernahl.  He taught 3rd. and 4th. grades and died the year I was in the 4th. grade. My mom and dad were married in the church as was my sister Donna.  Both Donna and I were baptized, attended there through the 8th. grade, and were confirmed there as well.

I only recall one of my neighborhood pals going to St. Mary's and that was Jackie Mongeau, who lived across the street from me.  We often played wiffleball on the side street (Forest Ave.) next to our house.  We traded baseball cards and quizzed each other on player stats printed on the backside of the card.

A few of the other kids on the block went to a school called "Riverdale Branch".  It was a Chicago Public School and located on 133rd. Street - just east of Indiana Avenue.  It was on north of the Little Calumet River and therefore was labeled the "north side" by those of us who lived on the "south side" of the river.  It was a "branch" of some other Chicago Public School - my guess would be Pullman, but I am very unsure of that.  More on Riverdale Branch in another blog. 

Part V - Ethnic Groups and Boundaries

 Our little enclave - still known as Riverdale community in the city of Chicago - was bounded by Indiana Avenue on the West, the C&EI Railroad on the East, 138th. Street on the south, and the Calumet River on the north.  We used to call the section north of the Little Calumet River the "North Side".  We were fairly provincial back then.  I recall my dad referring to the real North Side of Chicago as a place you don't want to go to because it's too easy to get lost.  Their street intersections are all names (e.g. Central and Diversey) versus the South Side which had a number with a name (e.g. 111th. and Halsted).  

"MK Packaging" on the map was "the lumber yard where my uncle Don Anderson worked."  He lived right across the street from it. The "Heavenly Angels" funeral home used to be Bachman's and was right across the street from our church.  Most every church member who died was "laid out" there, as the saying went.

The ethnicity of our little enclave was most certainly all white - with basically central European ancestry.  Some of the surnames I recall from memory are:

Busch....Janeschefki....Kainrath.....Wysinski....Reitz....Panozzo.....Bilecki..... Frank.....Drechsel....McCready....Mohr.....Oemick....Dreger....Baron....Mongeau....Stark.... Miller....McCloskey.....Bishton.....Kramer....Kortum....Bauman..... Biggers.... Bilecki.....

On the 1940 census, the overwhelming majority of folks in our little enclave worked at Acme Steel.  And one could walk to work from this neighborhood -- and often did so.

In some sort of manner, we were our own "caste".   I say this based upon a recent reading of a powerful book by Isabel Wilkerson entitled "Caste... The Origins of Our Discontents" (Copyright 2020).  Our neighborhood mimicked so many others across this country as white, blue collar, European ancestry (particularly central European), and very basic or limited formal education.  And in a caste system, there are always groups of people who are "lower in rank" than yours.  

So it was quite natural to look at other groups as lower than ours.  Often, the Irish were considered below our group as my mother often referred to many of them as "shanty Irish".  One can well imagine where "black folks" were considered in this caste system!  And so it was....

Part IV - More Recollections from 136th. Street

Neighborhood Map

Our house was 254 East 136th. Street, as indicated on the map.  Down towards the end of the block (street), there was a one way  "alley street" - Calumet. You can see it on the map above.  That "road" ended at the Calumet River.   But right before that, the block of buildings on the right was a company called Black Products.  They made what was known as "Black Diamond Clay Pigeons" for skeet target shooters.  One of our next door neighbors worked there and when he came walking home from work, he was filthy dirty and looked like he was covered in soot. 

Since our neighborhood was an all white, blue-collar area, any black person working at Black Products usually would take a CTA bus which stopped at the corner of 136th. and Indiana Avenue.  They would then walk down our street to get to work.  

As the story was told to me, my sister (three years older than I) was sitting on a blanket in the front yard on a warm sunny day.  As a black man walked past on his way to work, she blurted out, "Hi nigger!".  The man stopped and corrected her while Mom quickly descended and swooped her up and into the house.  

So, here was a young toddler - perhaps four or five years old - who used the "n" word in addressing a black person.  How did she come to learn that term?  How did she associate that word with the color of a person?  The answer is obvious - she heard it at home in reference to people of color, particularly black people.  

Another recollection is when I was told that the history of black people comes from the Bible where Cain, who killed his brother Abel, was condemned and banished.  And to make sure, a mark was put on him as a sign of his being cursed.  And that mark was black skin.  This apparently wasn't an obscure belief among many church denominations.  Ah, the Bible can be used to justify anything - and it has over the several millennia.  

Later on when I was perhaps 9 or 10, I recall my father telling me that all blacks had to be out of the area when the sun went down.  

How did I respond to these racist remarks?   I didn't.  It's how we - and all the others on 136th. Street and so many other streets - were brought up.  It was a given.

Part III - Some Early Recollections of Living on 136th. Street

 

Picture taken around 1950

An early childhood picture in the backyard of our house on 136th. Street.  Directly behind me is the plot of yard dug up for the annual garden.  Behind the fence is the alley.

My dad made that hat for me out of felt.  It had points all the way around it - a sort of Jughead look from the days of Archie comic books.

The pants always lasted longer when Mom could sew knee patches in them.

The jacket was either a "hand-me-down" or who knows what.

Humble beginnings growing up in a blue collar neighborhood and family.  We may not have had much, but there was always food on the table (as my dad always put it).   Our first car was a used 1948 Oldsmobile which we drove to Scottsbluff NE in 1953 to see my Grandma Krikau, who unbeknownst to me was close to dying as most of her sons living near us made the same trip that summer. She died while we were out there, but was shipped back by rail to Chicago to be buried next to Grandpa Krikau (d. 1946) in Cedar Park Cemetery on 127th. and Halsted.

Our first TV was a 12" Admiral - with record player included in the console.  Of course it was black and white and we watched Howdy Doodie as one of the first programs.  That too occurred in the early 1950's.  

Our first and only dog became part of the family in the mid-50's as well.  We named her Snooper - long before the name Snoopy was even created.  She was part of Glimpy's litter from across the street.  Everyone figured the father was Duke - who kind of roamed the area unleashed.  Dad hated that dog.   A quick story.... 

One summer day we were sitting on lawn chairs in the backyard - under one of the shade trees.  My dad spotted Duke walking up and down the street - probably on the prowl.  He went inside the house and got out his pellet pistol.  As luck would have it, Duke decided to walk down the street next to our house.  As the dog nonchalantly strolled past our house, Dad pumped up the loaded pistol and let one fly direct into the rear end of the dog.  That was the last time we ever saw Duke walk by our house again.