During the early-to-mid twentieth century, swimming pools and beaches were among the most segregated public spaces in the country.[3] White residents of Indianapolis advocated for segregation of public pools by spreading false rumors that African American swimmers would spread diseases to white swimmers and by perpetuating the stereotype that allowing African American men into integrated swimming areas would pose a threat to white women’s safety.[4]
Additionally, Indianapolis city leaders feared that integrated pools would lead to violence among white and African American pool-goers. This fear was not unfounded, for white residents staged many attacks on African American patrons at swimming pools. In Cincinnati, for example, white attackers installed nails at the bottom of swimming pools to prevent African American patrons from swimming. White assailants in St. Augustine, Florida poured bleach and acid into pools occupied by African American swimmers. These incidents of racial violence were met with major protests in cities including Baltimore, Washington D.C. and Louisville. Although the violent outbreaks at swimming pools were incited by white pool-goers, African Americans were often blamed for the disorder. The fear of such unrest caused park owners to either ban admittance to African Americans or admit African Americans at their discretion, based on the “safety risks” the patrons presented.[5]
It was not until 1964 that the Civil Rights Act desegregated public swimming pools and parks. Although the law called for integration of swimming pools, some municipalities created clubs with membership fees to prevent African American patrons from entering. Others simply closed the city pools and filled them with concrete. During the 1960s and 1970s, many White families left Indianapolis in favor of neighborhoods outside the city. The rise of these affluent neighborhoods saw a dramatic increase in the number of gated communities, homeowners’ associations, and informally segregated private pools. As private swimming pools became more popular, cities began to decrease their funding to public recreational facilities, further preventing African American patrons from enjoying these amenities.[6]
Longacre Swimming Pool and Park, once a glaring example of Indianapolis’ segregated swimming pool policy, is now Longacre Mobile Home Park. Rufus Dodrill Jr., the second owner of the park, began developing the mobile home park in the 1960s with the hope that residents would frequent the pool and park amenities. As more Hoosiers invested in air conditioning and home pools and attendance dwindled, however, the cost of maintaining the facility became too heavy a burden.[7] Dodrill sold the facility in 1972, and the enormous pool was plowed a few years later.[8] All that remains of the impressive recreation park now are Longacre Mobile Home Park and the park’s original lake.[9]
]]>Longacre Swimming Pool was once a popular spot for summer recreation in Indianapolis. Established by attorney Edwin Thompson in 1927, the pool was located on the southside of the city and was urban stop 6 on Madison Avenue. Longacre Swimming Pool was the centerpiece of Longacre Park, a massive recreational area that boasted baseball diamonds, basketball courts, tennis courts, picnic areas, a golf fairway, croquet, pony rides, a sand beach, paddle boats, a dance hall, and a playground.[1] The park’s impressive swimming pool was 400 feet long and 185 feet wide and was naturally supplied by Lick Creek.[2] Although Longacre Swimming Pool and Park are remembered fondly by many residents of Indianapolis as places for summertime fun, the history of the facility is plagued by discrimination. Like most public pools and recreational facilities in Indianapolis at the time, Longacre Swimming Pool enforced segregation and barred African American families from enjoying its many amenities.
During the early-to-mid twentieth century, swimming pools and beaches were among the most segregated public spaces in the country.[3] White residents of Indianapolis advocated for segregation of public pools by spreading false rumors that African American swimmers would spread diseases to white swimmers and by perpetuating the stereotype that allowing African American men into integrated swimming areas would pose a threat to white women’s safety.[4]
Additionally, Indianapolis city leaders feared that integrated pools would lead to violence among white and African American pool-goers. This fear was not unfounded, for white residents staged many attacks on African American patrons at swimming pools. In Cincinnati, for example, white attackers installed nails at the bottom of swimming pools to prevent African American patrons from swimming. White assailants in St. Augustine, Florida poured bleach and acid into pools occupied by African American swimmers. These incidents of racial violence were met with major protests in cities including Baltimore, Washington D.C. and Louisville. Although the violent outbreaks at swimming pools were incited by white pool-goers, African Americans were often blamed for the disorder. The fear of such unrest caused park owners to either ban admittance to African Americans or admit African Americans at their discretion, based on the “safety risks” the patrons presented.[5]
It was not until 1964 that the Civil Rights Act desegregated public swimming pools and parks. Although the law called for integration of swimming pools, some municipalities created clubs with membership fees to prevent African American patrons from entering. Others simply closed the city pools and filled them with concrete. During the 1960s and 1970s, many White families left Indianapolis in favor of neighborhoods outside the city. The rise of these affluent neighborhoods saw a dramatic increase in the number of gated communities, homeowners’ associations, and informally segregated private pools. As private swimming pools became more popular, cities began to decrease their funding to public recreational facilities, further preventing African American patrons from enjoying these amenities.[6]
Longacre Swimming Pool and Park, once a glaring example of Indianapolis’ segregated swimming pool policy, is now Longacre Mobile Home Park. Rufus Dodrill Jr., the second owner of the park, began developing the mobile home park in the 1960s with the hope that residents would frequent the pool and park amenities. As more Hoosiers invested in air conditioning and home pools and attendance dwindled, however, the cost of maintaining the facility became too heavy a burden.[7] Dodrill sold the facility in 1972, and the enormous pool was plowed a few years later.[8] All that remains of the impressive recreation park now are Longacre Mobile Home Park and the park’s original lake.[9]
Since Gary’s founding by the United States Steel Corporation in 1906, the city’s public schools had been segregated by residential boundaries and school board policies. As the African American population began to grow during the 1920s, African American families were sequestered into crowded, low-income neighborhoods. “The Patch,” later named Midtown, was one such neighborhood. The only school in The Patch, located on Virginia Street, could not meet the needs of its many students and was overcrowded by the late 1920s. In an effort to alleviate the school and push educational reform, Superintendent Wirt decided to allow 18 African American honor roll students to transfer to Emerson High School.[4]
On September 19, 1927, the 18 African American students entered Emerson High School for the first time. Superintendent Wirt did not expect the strong backlash that quickly followed. Within the first week, the new students began receiving harsh threats from their white classmates. According to former student Hazel Bratton Sanders, “the white students would line up on both sides of the sidewalk and stretch their arms over us.” As the African American students were forced to walk under them like an arch they yelled insults like “'Go away, darkies. This isn't your school.'”[5] The students were also subject to verbal abuse, and many were pushed and spit on by white students.[6]
Fearing that the admittance of the African American students would lead to more integration, white students and families planned a mass demonstration. On September 26, 1927, approximately 600 white students staged a school walkout at Emerson High School and refused to return until the African American students were removed. Protests continued for multiple days, and by Wednesday, over 1350 participants were involved.[7] Superintendent Wirt attempted to threaten the strikers, but the all-white school board sided with the demonstrators. The protests ended when the school board struck a deal with white protesters. Rather than integrating Emerson High School, the city would build an all-African American school and send the African American students back to their old school in “The Patch.”[8]
Three students appealed the decision to gain re-admittance into Emerson High School, but their appeal was denied. The new school for African American students, Theodore Roosevelt High School, was built in the center of Midtown and opened in 1931. For the students mistreated at Emerson in 1927, Roosevelt High School came too late. Although Roosevelt was a beautiful facility with many amenities, the decision to build the all-African American school in favor of integrating existing schools perpetuated the segregation of Gary public schools.[9]
Emerson High School was officially integrated in 1948, but the trauma sustained by the African American students never faded.[10] Due to Superintendent Wirt’s pioneering work in educational reform, Emerson High School has been deemed historically significant and was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1995.[11] Declining enrollment in the 1970s, was the impetus for the transition into a magnet school in the early 1980s. With inadequate funds to maintain the building, the school board made the difficult decision to close Emerson School for the Visual and Performing Arts in 2008, just one year shy of the building’s centennial anniversary. Since its closure, the historic school has stood empty, quickly decaying due to the weather and vandalism.[12] While the building is listed under the National Register, there are currently no plans to restore the Emerson High School.[13]
]]>Ralph Waldo Emerson High School was the first high school built in Gary, Indiana. Emerson High School was constructed in 1909 by St. Louis architect William Ittner.[1] William A. Wirt, superintendent of Gary school systems, played a large part in designing the building. Desiring to implement his innovative “Work-Study-Play” philosophy of education, in which students took vocational and athletic classes along with traditional high school courses, Wirt required the building to contain amenities such a foundry, large gymnasium, and printing shop. The three-story school building was intended to be a “total learning environment,” separated physically from the growing industrial city by a park and surrounding athletic fields.[2] While the design and teaching methods employed at Emerson were cutting edge for the time period, the school largely failed to provide for the educational needs of Gary’s growing population. Upholding policies of segregation, the school prevented most African Americans from joining the student body. In 1927, when 18 African American students transferred to Emerson High School, tensions boiled over, and white students staged a school walkout to protest the admittance of their African American classmates.[3]
Since Gary’s founding by the United States Steel Corporation in 1906, the city’s public schools had been segregated by residential boundaries and school board policies. As the African American population began to grow during the 1920s, African American families were sequestered into crowded, low-income neighborhoods. “The Patch,” later named Midtown, was one such neighborhood. The only school in The Patch, located on Virginia Street, could not meet the needs of its many students and was overcrowded by the late 1920s. In an effort to alleviate the school and push educational reform, Superintendent Wirt decided to allow 18 African American honor roll students to transfer to Emerson High School.[4]
On September 19, 1927, the 18 African American students entered Emerson High School for the first time. Superintendent Wirt did not expect the strong backlash that quickly followed. Within the first week, the new students began receiving harsh threats from their white classmates. According to former student Hazel Bratton Sanders, “the white students would line up on both sides of the sidewalk and stretch their arms over us.” As the African American students were forced to walk under them like an arch they yelled insults like “'Go away, darkies. This isn't your school.'”[5] The students were also subject to verbal abuse, and many were pushed and spit on by white students.[6]
Fearing that the admittance of the African American students would lead to more integration, white students and families planned a mass demonstration. On September 26, 1927, approximately 600 white students staged a school walkout at Emerson High School and refused to return until the African American students were removed. Protests continued for multiple days, and by Wednesday, over 1350 participants were involved.[7] Superintendent Wirt attempted to threaten the strikers, but the all-white school board sided with the demonstrators. The protests ended when the school board struck a deal with white protesters. Rather than integrating Emerson High School, the city would build an all-African American school and send the African American students back to their old school in “The Patch.”[8]
Three students appealed the decision to gain re-admittance into Emerson High School, but their appeal was denied. The new school for African American students, Theodore Roosevelt High School, was built in the center of Midtown and opened in 1931. For the students mistreated at Emerson in 1927, Roosevelt High School came too late. Although Roosevelt was a beautiful facility with many amenities, the decision to build the all-African American school in favor of integrating existing schools perpetuated the segregation of Gary public schools.[9]
Emerson High School was officially integrated in 1948, but the trauma sustained by the African American students never faded.[10] Due to Superintendent Wirt’s pioneering work in educational reform, Emerson High School has been deemed historically significant and was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1995.[11] Declining enrollment in the 1970s, was the impetus for the transition into a magnet school in the early 1980s. With inadequate funds to maintain the building, the school board made the difficult decision to close Emerson School for the Visual and Performing Arts in 2008, just one year shy of the building’s centennial anniversary. Since its closure, the historic school has stood empty, quickly decaying due to the weather and vandalism.[12] While the building is listed under the National Register, there are currently no plans to restore the Emerson High School.[13]
African American communities throughout the country had long embraced the mission of the YMCA. Anthony Bowen, a freedman from Washington D.C., founded the first YMCA for African Americans in 1853. Although the YMCA movement was stalled by the social and financial hardship African Americans faced in many areas of the United States during nineteenth century, many cities had constructed African American YMCA branches by the early 1910s. These facilities served as meeting spots for African Americans to openly discuss politics, safe resting places for African American travelers, and learning centers where young African American men received education in business and management.[3]
In the early 1900s, almost all business and entertainment establishments in Gary were owned by white proprietors. Gary’s large African American community, prohibited from entering these establishments, was deprived of recreation facilities. At the recommendation of clergyman John W. Lee, who conducted a survey of the social and economic conditions of Gary’s African American neighborhoods for the Calumet Church Federation, Gary’s First Baptist Church established an African American YMCA community center at 19th Avenue and Washington Street in 1919.[4] This new symbol of recreation and opportunity only operated for a few short years, however, as the facility was forced to close when the Great Depression hit Gary. After the shuttering of the African American YMCA, pressure to integrate Gary’s main YMCA building mounted.[5]
The YMCA’s national policy of segregation ended in 1946 “when the National Council passed a resolution calling for local associations to ‘work steadfastly toward the goal of eliminating all racial discriminations,’ dissolved its Colored Work Department and abolished racial designations in all its publications.”[6] Local YMCAs responded to these institutional changes with varying degrees of compliance. At Gary’s branch of the YMCA, harsh segregation persisted for decades after the national policy of segregation ended. Clifford E. Minton, an active leader in Gary’s Civil Rights Movement and the long-time executive director of the Gary Urban League, spearheaded a campaign to integrate the facility.[7] Under Mayor George Chacharis, Minton successfully integrated Gary’s YMCA in the early 1960s.[8]
Unfortunately, Clifford Minton’s YMCA victory was short-lived, as the Gary YMCA closed only a few years after its integration. Facing competition from for-profit recreational centers, Gary’s YMCA was unable to stay afloat during the recession of the mid-1970s and shut down operations in 1976.[9] While the old YMCA building was demolished after the closure of the facility, postcards bearing its striking image can be viewed on the Digital Commonwealth website today.[10] The integration of Gary’s YMCA was only one of Clifford Minton’s many accomplishments as a Civil Rights leader and executive director of the Gary Urban League.
]]>Gary’s Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA) was located in a massive stone building that faced north on Fifth Avenue. Funded by Elbert Gary and designed by architect Joseph Silsbee in 1909, the impressive structure served as a sporting and recreation center, dining facility, library, and temporary dormitory until its closure in 1976.[1] Although the YMCA was intended to provide entertainment and support for the young men of Gary, a large portion of Gary’s male population was excluded from enjoying the facility. The Gary YMCA, like many YMCAs throughout the United States, enforced strict segregation during the first half of the nineteenth century, barring African American men from membership. It was not until the 1960s that the Gary Urban League won the right to integrate Gary’s branch of the YMCA.[2]
African American communities throughout the country had long embraced the mission of the YMCA. Anthony Bowen, a freedman from Washington D.C., founded the first YMCA for African Americans in 1853. Although the YMCA movement was stalled by the social and financial hardship African Americans faced in many areas of the United States during nineteenth century, many cities had constructed African American YMCA branches by the early 1910s. These facilities served as meeting spots for African Americans to openly discuss politics, safe resting places for African American travelers, and learning centers where young African American men received education in business and management.[3]
In the early 1900s, almost all business and entertainment establishments in Gary were owned by white proprietors. Gary’s large African American community, prohibited from entering these establishments, was deprived of recreation facilities. At the recommendation of clergyman John W. Lee, who conducted a survey of the social and economic conditions of Gary’s African American neighborhoods for the Calumet Church Federation, Gary’s First Baptist Church established an African American YMCA community center at 19th Avenue and Washington Street in 1919.[4] This new symbol of recreation and opportunity only operated for a few short years, however, as the facility was forced to close when the Great Depression hit Gary. After the shuttering of the African American YMCA, pressure to integrate Gary’s main YMCA building mounted.[5]
The YMCA’s national policy of segregation ended in 1946 “when the National Council passed a resolution calling for local associations to ‘work steadfastly toward the goal of eliminating all racial discriminations,’ dissolved its Colored Work Department and abolished racial designations in all its publications.”[6] Local YMCAs responded to these institutional changes with varying degrees of compliance. At Gary’s branch of the YMCA, harsh segregation persisted for decades after the national policy of segregation ended. Clifford E. Minton, an active leader in Gary’s Civil Rights Movement and the long-time executive director of the Gary Urban League, spearheaded a campaign to integrate the facility.[7] Under Mayor George Chacharis, Minton successfully integrated Gary’s YMCA in the early 1960s.[8]
Unfortunately, Clifford Minton’s YMCA victory was short-lived, as the Gary YMCA closed only a few years after its integration. Facing competition from for-profit recreational centers, Gary’s YMCA was unable to stay afloat during the recession of the mid-1970s and shut down operations in 1976.[9] While the old YMCA building was demolished after the closure of the facility, postcards bearing its striking image can be viewed on the Digital Commonwealth website today.[10] The integration of Gary’s YMCA was only one of Clifford Minton’s many accomplishments as a Civil Rights leader and executive director of the Gary Urban League.
Juanita Grant has been described as a “bold and unique voice” in the early years of the Civil Rights era, who transformed her community in ways that can still be seen in Gary today.[2] Despite losing her mother at a young age and attending school at a time when it was difficult for African American students to find support in Indiana, Juanita Grant was an ambitious learner who earned her bachelor’s degree at Indiana State College in Terre Haute and her master’s degree in Social Work at Ball State University. As a resident of Gary and leader in the African American community, she co-founded and established the Jack and Jill of America Inc. chapter in Gary, organized local Girl Scouts and Brownies groups, and supported Gary’s historic Stewart Settlement House.[3] Benjamin Grant was also a very influential Civil Rights leader among Gary’s African American population. He was a lifetime member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and served as the co-chair of Gary’s branch of the organization during the 1940s. A practicing physician and surgeon, Dr. Grant launched a campaign to advocate for the medical rights of African American medical professionals and patients.[4]
During the early twentieth century, medical facilities were heavily segregated in Indiana. African American doctors, nurses, and patients faced severe discrimination. In Indianapolis, training facilities for nurses were separated by race, and finding employment at a public hospital was virtually impossible for African American doctors. Indianapolis City Hospital, the only hospital in the Indianapolis that admitted African American patients, turned away African American doctors seeking internships and pressured African American nurses to receive training outside Indiana.
The hostility that African American doctors and nurses encountered was also felt by African American patients seeking medical care in Indianapolis. At Indianapolis City Hospital, African American patients were sequestered in a “Jim Crow wing” in the basement of the building, where they were often crowded into small areas and given inadequate care.[5] Segregation in the medical system was worse in other areas of Indiana, however, for outside the state capital, “there were no public hospitals in Indiana that admitted African Americans; blacks were entirely dependent on private medical institutions.”[6]
Like most hospitals outside of Indianapolis, Gary’s Mercy Hospital refused to admit African American patients when it first opened. Established in downtown Gary by the Gary Land Company in 1907, Mercy Hospital was a white-owned, private hospital staffed first by the Sisters of St. Francis and later by the Poor Handmaids of Jesus Christ.[7] It was not until the 1930s that Mercy Hospital began to accept African American patients, and even then, they were placed in segregated wards.[8] African American doctors employed at Mercy were denied admitting privileges.
As a practicing doctor in Gary, Benjamin Grant was aware of how limited medical resources were for the city’s large African American population. In 1945, with the help of his wife, Dr. Grant began lobbying to integrate Mercy Hospital and permit African American doctors admitting privileges. The Grant’s effort to provide better healthcare for Gary’s African American population was successful. In 1945, Mercy Hospital granted African American doctors admitting privileges, a move that provided Gary’s African American community with more access to medical care and better treatment within the hospital.[9]
In the immediate years after the hospital’s integration, Mercy Hospital thrived as Gary’s premier medical institution. The hospital trained nurses and interns, built specialized departments, and gained international recognition as the birthplace of musician Michael Jackson. As U.S. Steel jobs declined in the 1970s, Mercy Hospital began to suffer, as much of Gary’s white community relocated to neighboring cities. In an attempt to revitalize the medical facility, Mercy Hospital underwent a restructuring in the mid-1970s. The West Wing of the hospital was built, and Mercy Hospital was renamed St. Mary Medical Center. These updates, however, were not enough to stave off the decline of the aging building. By the early 1990s, St. Mary’s had lost millions of dollars and was in danger of closing.[10] In 1993, Summit Medical Management purchased St. Mary Medical Center, renaming it Northwest Family Hospital. After two years of economic loss and unsuccessful restructuring attempts, Summit “declared the situation terminal” and decided to close St. Mary Medical Center.[11] Although the Mercy Foundation fought to keep the hospital open, and private interests attempted to purchase the building, no one could afford to maintain costly hospital operations. In November 1995, St. Mary Medical Center was closed. While much of the building stands abandoned today, the newest addition of the hospital, the West Wing built in the mid-1970s, serves as the headquarters of Gary’s police department.[12] The remains of St. Mary Medical Center, or “Mercy” as longtime residents call it, stands as a monument to Gary’s oldest hospital and a legacy of the pioneering work of Juanita and Benjamin Grant.[13]
]]>Juanita C. Grant and her husband Benjamin F. Grant were community leaders who promoted racial equality in Gary, Indiana during the Civil Rights Movement. The Grants sought to improve conditions for the African American population of Gary by establishing community organizations, helping gain access to essential resources, and organizing a coalition of leaders to serve the city’s African American community. Most notably, Benjamin and Juanita Grant successfully lobbied Gary’s oldest hospital, Mercy Hospital (now St. Mary Medical Center) to allow African American doctors admitting privileges in 1945.[1]
Juanita Grant has been described as a “bold and unique voice” in the early years of the Civil Rights era, who transformed her community in ways that can still be seen in Gary today.[2] Despite losing her mother at a young age and attending school at a time when it was difficult for African American students to find support in Indiana, Juanita Grant was an ambitious learner who earned her bachelor’s degree at Indiana State College in Terre Haute and her master’s degree in Social Work at Ball State University. As a resident of Gary and leader in the African American community, she co-founded and established the Jack and Jill of America Inc. chapter in Gary, organized local Girl Scouts and Brownies groups, and supported Gary’s historic Stewart Settlement House.[3] Benjamin Grant was also a very influential Civil Rights leader among Gary’s African American population. He was a lifetime member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) and served as the co-chair of Gary’s branch of the organization during the 1940s. A practicing physician and surgeon, Dr. Grant launched a campaign to advocate for the medical rights of African American medical professionals and patients.[4]
During the early twentieth century, medical facilities were heavily segregated in Indiana. African American doctors, nurses, and patients faced severe discrimination. In Indianapolis, training facilities for nurses were separated by race, and finding employment at a public hospital was virtually impossible for African American doctors. Indianapolis City Hospital, the only hospital in the Indianapolis that admitted African American patients, turned away African American doctors seeking internships and pressured African American nurses to receive training outside Indiana.
The hostility that African American doctors and nurses encountered was also felt by African American patients seeking medical care in Indianapolis. At Indianapolis City Hospital, African American patients were sequestered in a “Jim Crow wing” in the basement of the building, where they were often crowded into small areas and given inadequate care.[5] Segregation in the medical system was worse in other areas of Indiana, however, for outside the state capital, “there were no public hospitals in Indiana that admitted African Americans; blacks were entirely dependent on private medical institutions.”[6]
Like most hospitals outside of Indianapolis, Gary’s Mercy Hospital refused to admit African American patients when it first opened. Established in downtown Gary by the Gary Land Company in 1907, Mercy Hospital was a white-owned, private hospital staffed first by the Sisters of St. Francis and later by the Poor Handmaids of Jesus Christ.[7] It was not until the 1930s that Mercy Hospital began to accept African American patients, and even then, they were placed in segregated wards.[8] African American doctors employed at Mercy were denied admitting privileges.
As a practicing doctor in Gary, Benjamin Grant was aware of how limited medical resources were for the city’s large African American population. In 1945, with the help of his wife, Dr. Grant began lobbying to integrate Mercy Hospital and permit African American doctors admitting privileges. The Grant’s effort to provide better healthcare for Gary’s African American population was successful. In 1945, Mercy Hospital granted African American doctors admitting privileges, a move that provided Gary’s African American community with more access to medical care and better treatment within the hospital.[9]
In the immediate years after the hospital’s integration, Mercy Hospital thrived as Gary’s premier medical institution. The hospital trained nurses and interns, built specialized departments, and gained international recognition as the birthplace of musician Michael Jackson. As U.S. Steel jobs declined in the 1970s, Mercy Hospital began to suffer, as much of Gary’s white community relocated to neighboring cities. In an attempt to revitalize the medical facility, Mercy Hospital underwent a restructuring in the mid-1970s. The West Wing of the hospital was built, and Mercy Hospital was renamed St. Mary Medical Center. These updates, however, were not enough to stave off the decline of the aging building. By the early 1990s, St. Mary’s had lost millions of dollars and was in danger of closing.[10] In 1993, Summit Medical Management purchased St. Mary Medical Center, renaming it Northwest Family Hospital. After two years of economic loss and unsuccessful restructuring attempts, Summit “declared the situation terminal” and decided to close St. Mary Medical Center.[11] Although the Mercy Foundation fought to keep the hospital open, and private interests attempted to purchase the building, no one could afford to maintain costly hospital operations. In November 1995, St. Mary Medical Center was closed. While much of the building stands abandoned today, the newest addition of the hospital, the West Wing built in the mid-1970s, serves as the headquarters of Gary’s police department.[12] The remains of St. Mary Medical Center, or “Mercy” as longtime residents call it, stands as a monument to Gary’s oldest hospital and a legacy of the pioneering work of Juanita and Benjamin Grant.[13]
In their protest, white students pleaded that Froebel High School become a school designated for white students only, threatening to transfer schools if their demands were not met.[2] As a result of the ongoing protest, Gary African American ministers of all faiths banded together to form the Interdenominational Ministerial Alliance (IMA) and defended the principal’s decision to maintain an integrated environment within the school.[3][4] The IMA released an appeal to Gary’s citizens, saying “It is indeed regrettable to note that after the nation has spent approximately 190 billion dollars, the colored citizens of Gary have sent about 4,000 of their sons, brothers, and husbands to battlefields around the world and have supported every war effort that our government has called upon us to support, in a united effort to destroy nazism and to banish from the face of the earth all that Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo stood for; to find in our midst those who are endeavoring to spread disunity, race-hatred, and Hitlerism in our community.”[5]
Despite the support of the IMA in favor of the school’s integration decision, otherschools joined the walkout. The Gary Post-Tribune reported that some members of the Froebel neighborhood supported the strike as they “feel their homes and churches have depreciated in value” with the influx of African American home-owners in the neighborhood.[6] The hate strike lasted well into November, but threats to continue the strike lasted into the following year. On August 27, 1946, the Gary Board of Education issued a policy technically ending segregation. However, in all practicality segregation within Gary schools continued to exist, supported by discriminatory policies. Lower grades at Froebel School more quickly adjusted to integration, while in 1948, African American students in grades 8-12 at Froebel still faced persistent discrimination when it came to the swimming facilities, band, theater, class offices, and other extracurricular activities.[7]
In 1951, Froebel School enrolled 56% African American students. After a transfer policy was enacted that allowed children to transfer to other schools for “better social adjustment”, Froebel School enrollment was 95% African American by 1961, while the district it served was 65% African American. The transfer policy in effect allowed segregation to continue. Other practices, such as offering fewer academic courses, hiring less qualified teachers, and overcrowding at predominately African American schools, coupled with school feeding patterns based on race, perpetuated de facto segregation.[8]
Due to declining enrollment and after several reductions of grade levels served, Froebel School finally closed in 1977 as part of district cost-cutting measures. The location of Froebel School and its role in school desegregation is commemorated with an Indiana Historical Bureau marker.[9]
]]>Built in 1912, Froebel High School was one of the first schools in Gary, Indiana to accept African American students, decades before most other schools were desegregated. By 1944, approximately 40% of the school’s students were African American. Despite being an integrated school, African American students were still expected to remain in certain areas of the building, could not participate fully in extracurricular activities, and were often disliked and mistreated by many of their white classmates. Tensions continued to rise, until September 18, 1945 when around 1,400 white students took part in a massive walkout protest against the integration policies of Froebel High School.[1]
In their protest, white students pleaded that Froebel High School become a school designated for white students only, threatening to transfer schools if their demands were not met.[2] As a result of the ongoing protest, Gary African American ministers of all faiths banded together to form the Interdenominational Ministerial Alliance (IMA) and defended the principal’s decision to maintain an integrated environment within the school.[3][4] The IMA released an appeal to Gary’s citizens, saying “It is indeed regrettable to note that after the nation has spent approximately 190 billion dollars, the colored citizens of Gary have sent about 4,000 of their sons, brothers, and husbands to battlefields around the world and have supported every war effort that our government has called upon us to support, in a united effort to destroy nazism and to banish from the face of the earth all that Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo stood for; to find in our midst those who are endeavoring to spread disunity, race-hatred, and Hitlerism in our community.”[5]
Despite the support of the IMA in favor of the school’s integration decision, otherschools joined the walkout. The Gary Post-Tribune reported that some members of the Froebel neighborhood supported the strike as they “feel their homes and churches have depreciated in value” with the influx of African American home-owners in the neighborhood.[6] The hate strike lasted well into November, but threats to continue the strike lasted into the following year. On August 27, 1946, the Gary Board of Education issued a policy technically ending segregation. However, in all practicality segregation within Gary schools continued to exist, supported by discriminatory policies. Lower grades at Froebel School more quickly adjusted to integration, while in 1948, African American students in grades 8-12 at Froebel still faced persistent discrimination when it came to the swimming facilities, band, theater, class offices, and other extracurricular activities.[7]
In 1951, Froebel School enrolled 56% African American students. After a transfer policy was enacted that allowed children to transfer to other schools for “better social adjustment”, Froebel School enrollment was 95% African American by 1961, while the district it served was 65% African American. The transfer policy in effect allowed segregation to continue. Other practices, such as offering fewer academic courses, hiring less qualified teachers, and overcrowding at predominately African American schools, coupled with school feeding patterns based on race, perpetuated de facto segregation.[8]
Due to declining enrollment and after several reductions of grade levels served, Froebel School finally closed in 1977 as part of district cost-cutting measures. The location of Froebel School and its role in school desegregation is commemorated with an Indiana Historical Bureau marker.[9]
The school included 22 classrooms, a gym, auditorium, sewing room, and other vocational training areas. However, the school did not contain a cafeteria. Compared to white schools at the time, Lincoln received less funding and students had decreased educational opportunities. Despite having a library, the school did not receive enough funding to purchase books. Lincoln’s first librarian, Mrs. Alberta K. McFarland Stevenson stocked the library shelves by collecting used books and monetary donations door-to-door from local residents.[4]
This was not the only inequality experienced by Lincoln students. Discrimination was rampant in Indiana high school sports in the 1930s and early 1940s, directly affecting the successful athletes at Lincoln. African American high school teams in Indiana were not allowed to compete in contact sports with white schools until 1943 when the Indiana High School Athletic Association (IHSAA) was ordered by the Indiana legislature to open membership to all schools. This order was only six years before state law declared segregation of Indiana schools illegal.
Because Lincoln High School students were excluded from competing with white teams in Indiana, athletes traveled to Gary and Indianapolis to play teams from African American schools (Roosevelt and Crispus Attucks). They also traveled out of state to Dayton, Louisville, Missouri, Nashville, and St. Louis for athletic competitions. George Flowers, who was a member of the school’s track team, recalled “That’s the one time segregation was kind of a fun thing, because it allowed our young men to go to bigger cities.”[5]
Despite the lack of school funding, the teachers were held in high esteem for providing quality education and turning students into respectful young people. Dawn Whitticker, whose mother was a teacher at Lincoln, recounts “The teachers were excellent. They were really strong disciplinarians,” she said. “Even if you were a student who wasn’t as up to speed, they made sure you learned. We were all forced to stay together, even during our entertainment. My teacher would probably see my mother in the grocery store and the beauty shop.” This strong sense of community and the bond between African American residents and teachers created an atmosphere where students wanted to do well and created a Lincoln legacy that continues to this day.[6]
In 1949, Indiana state law opened the doors to all schools for African Americans. However, in many areas of the state there was no mechanism to promote integration while there many policies enacted to continue de facto segregation. Very few Lincoln students integrated to the previously all-white schools.[7] In 1962, the final solely African American class graduated from Lincoln High School, and the school was then converted into a K-8 facility as part of the school corporation’s integration plan.[8] The original Lincoln School building still stands and as of 2020, serves K-8 students.[9] The Lincoln Clark Douglass Alumni Association keeps the legacy of Lincoln High School alive, and as part of their mission they resolve to “encourage high culture, intellectual and moral standards among its members” and “to inspire such traits of character among the African American community members…. and throughout the community at large.”[10]
]]>Lincoln High School in Evansville was built as an exclusively African American high school in Evansville, Indiana.[1][2] When classes were first held in 1928, the Lincoln hosted grades K-12, with an enrollment of 300. Students were bussed in from surrounding Vanderburg, Posey, and Warrick counties to attend Lincoln, including the communities of Mt. Vernon, Rockport, Newburgh, and Grandview.[3]
The school included 22 classrooms, a gym, auditorium, sewing room, and other vocational training areas. However, the school did not contain a cafeteria. Compared to white schools at the time, Lincoln received less funding and students had decreased educational opportunities. Despite having a library, the school did not receive enough funding to purchase books. Lincoln’s first librarian, Mrs. Alberta K. McFarland Stevenson stocked the library shelves by collecting used books and monetary donations door-to-door from local residents.[4]
This was not the only inequality experienced by Lincoln students. Discrimination was rampant in Indiana high school sports in the 1930s and early 1940s, directly affecting the successful athletes at Lincoln. African American high school teams in Indiana were not allowed to compete in contact sports with white schools until 1943 when the Indiana High School Athletic Association (IHSAA) was ordered by the Indiana legislature to open membership to all schools. This order was only six years before state law declared segregation of Indiana schools illegal.
Because Lincoln High School students were excluded from competing with white teams in Indiana, athletes traveled to Gary and Indianapolis to play teams from African American schools (Roosevelt and Crispus Attucks). They also traveled out of state to Dayton, Louisville, Missouri, Nashville, and St. Louis for athletic competitions. George Flowers, who was a member of the school’s track team, recalled “That’s the one time segregation was kind of a fun thing, because it allowed our young men to go to bigger cities.”[5]
Despite the lack of school funding, the teachers were held in high esteem for providing quality education and turning students into respectful young people. Dawn Whitticker, whose mother was a teacher at Lincoln, recounts “The teachers were excellent. They were really strong disciplinarians,” she said. “Even if you were a student who wasn’t as up to speed, they made sure you learned. We were all forced to stay together, even during our entertainment. My teacher would probably see my mother in the grocery store and the beauty shop.” This strong sense of community and the bond between African American residents and teachers created an atmosphere where students wanted to do well and created a Lincoln legacy that continues to this day.[6]
In 1949, Indiana state law opened the doors to all schools for African Americans. However, in many areas of the state there was no mechanism to promote integration while there many policies enacted to continue de facto segregation. Very few Lincoln students integrated to the previously all-white schools.[7] In 1962, the final solely African American class graduated from Lincoln High School, and the school was then converted into a K-8 facility as part of the school corporation’s integration plan.[8] The original Lincoln School building still stands and as of 2020, serves K-8 students.[9] The Lincoln Clark Douglass Alumni Association keeps the legacy of Lincoln High School alive, and as part of their mission they resolve to “encourage high culture, intellectual and moral standards among its members” and “to inspire such traits of character among the African American community members…. and throughout the community at large.”[10]
One of the most popular attractions in North Gleason Park was the 9-hole golf course. Bonded by the love of the sport, golfers at North Gleason Park developed the “Par-Makers” in 1949, a social club that enjoyed hosting tournaments and encouraging competition. The Par-Makers developed a scholarship fund, created a youth golf program, and contributed their time to support local causes within the African American community. The club worked to eliminate exclusion at South Gleason Park’s 18-hole golf course, even using professional boxer Joe Louis to persuade the Gary park board to allow African Americans to play at the South Gleason course.[3] Ann Gregory from Gary, who became the first African American golfer to play in a USGA Championship, also helped break the racial barrier at Gleason Park. After being told she could not play at South Gleason Park by a staff and a groundskeeper, Gregory remarked that “My tax dollars are taking care of the big course and there's no way you can bar me from it. Just send the police out to get me" and she proceeded to play all 18 holes on the south side.[4] Through persistent efforts by African American golfers, the South Gleason Park golf course became integrated by the 1960s.[5]
The North Gleason Park pavilion was another popular space for Gary’s African American community and was used primarily as a boxing gym, but also for meetings and gatherings. Boxing greats such as Angel Manfredy (a popular contender in the 1990s) and “Merciless” Mary McGee (Women's Super Lightweight Champion of the World in December of 2019)[6] were trained in the pavilion under the instruction of retired police officer, John Taylor. Taylor was known for bringing young people in off the streets and turning them into boxing champions.[7] Today, efforts are being made to add the North Gleason Park pavilion to the National Register of Historic Places. Currently, the pavilion is in severe disrepair after years of neglect.[8] However, multiple groups and individuals from Gary have stepped up to offer their labor in hopes of repairing the pavilion for use once again.[9][10]
]]>North Gleason Park in Gary was first developed in 1920. Originally named Riverside Park, it was renamed after the U.S. Steel Superintendent and park board president William P. Gleason in 1933. The park board segregated the park into north and south parcels using the Little Calumet River as a divider. The north section of the park was designated for African American patrons, the south for Gary’s white residents.[1] The funding for the two sides of the park was never equal, with the south side of the park enjoying more and better quality amenities than the north side, including an 18-hole golf course in South Gleason as opposed to the 9-hole course in North Gleason. Despite the inequality, the African American community in Gary embraced North Gleason Park as their own place to unwind and enjoy.[2]
One of the most popular attractions in North Gleason Park was the 9-hole golf course. Bonded by the love of the sport, golfers at North Gleason Park developed the “Par-Makers” in 1949, a social club that enjoyed hosting tournaments and encouraging competition. The Par-Makers developed a scholarship fund, created a youth golf program, and contributed their time to support local causes within the African American community. The club worked to eliminate exclusion at South Gleason Park’s 18-hole golf course, even using professional boxer Joe Louis to persuade the Gary park board to allow African Americans to play at the South Gleason course.[3] Ann Gregory from Gary, who became the first African American golfer to play in a USGA Championship, also helped break the racial barrier at Gleason Park. After being told she could not play at South Gleason Park by a staff and a groundskeeper, Gregory remarked that “My tax dollars are taking care of the big course and there's no way you can bar me from it. Just send the police out to get me" and she proceeded to play all 18 holes on the south side.[4] Through persistent efforts by African American golfers, the South Gleason Park golf course became integrated by the 1960s.[5]
The North Gleason Park pavilion was another popular space for Gary’s African American community and was used primarily as a boxing gym, but also for meetings and gatherings. Boxing greats such as Angel Manfredy (a popular contender in the 1990s) and “Merciless” Mary McGee (Women's Super Lightweight Champion of the World in December of 2019)[6] were trained in the pavilion under the instruction of retired police officer, John Taylor. Taylor was known for bringing young people in off the streets and turning them into boxing champions.[7] Today, efforts are being made to add the North Gleason Park pavilion to the National Register of Historic Places. Currently, the pavilion is in severe disrepair after years of neglect.[8] However, multiple groups and individuals from Gary have stepped up to offer their labor in hopes of repairing the pavilion for use once again.[9][10]
One member of Company 517-C, Francis Crowdus, recounted his experience in the CCC, saying “there was a sense of high expectation. We worked hard and were expected to do it right. We used our muscles…we built barracks, dams, fought forest fires, reclaimed streams, and planted forests. Even though the CCC was one of President Roosevelt’s job programs, I never felt I was on welfare.”[5] In addition to the work described by Crowdus, the 517-C worked in natural stone quarries, as well as helped in rescue efforts following the flood of 1937.[6]
The time spent in segregated camps afforded the men opportunities they would not have otherwise had. At Corydon, Company 517-C was isolated from the surrounding white community, cementing a sense of belonging for those in 517-C. Another former member of Company 517-C claimed “I’ve never seen such camaraderie anywhere, not even in a fraternity or a church. It’s like blood brothers.” With this strong sense of teamwork, Company 517-C coined the phrase “We Can Take It!” as their motto, highlighting their hard work and friendship.[7]
While New Deal historians argue that race relations did not see improvement on a national level as a result of the CCC, it can be argued that race relations did improve on a local level by the brotherhood developed among African American young men following the Great Depression. Many white farmers and landowners of southern Indiana openly accepted and appreciated the help of the African American CCC groups.[8][9]
However, members of the 517-C were the subject of great prejudice in other areas of Indiana. Company 517-C moved to Portland in Jay County in the fall of 1939 to repair a drainage system. Their arrival caused much anxiety throughout the community. An editorial in The Sun & Commercial asked local citizens not to be alarmed assuring that “during the few months they will be kept under strict discipline by their white officers.”[10] With no diversity in Portland, the men of 517-C traveled to Muncie or Fort Wayne for their weekend social activities. With Camp Portland close to town, the local community cultivated a growing distrust of the CCC workers.
One of the 517-C crew, Marshall Carter, walked through an alley on his way out of town one evening in December 1939. A local resident yelled at him to stop, then open fired without warning, severely wounding Carter, and he was rushed to the local hospital. The attack was initially ignored in the national CCC paper Happy Days, greatly upsetting many of the African American CCC members.[11] However, the December 1939 issue of Ditch Dots and Dashes, published by 517-C members, blared the headline “Local Citizen Shoots C.C.C. Boy, Marshall Carter is Victim”. Subsequent issues included submissions from 517-C crew lamenting racial injustice in the form of testimonials and poetry, including Carter with a poem titled So You’re the Judge.[12] It was reported in the February 1940 issue that Carter had recovered from his wounds.[13]
In 1942, the CCC disbanded nationally as young men were needed to fight in WWII. Many members of the 517-C met for annual reunions at their camps in Corydon and Portland until the last CCC reunion in 1994.[14]
]]>The Civilian Conservation Corps (CCC) was one of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s most popular New Deal relief agencies, employing approximately three million men between the ages of 17 and 23, from 1933 to 1942, in 57 camps across the United States.[1] The CCC was heavily responsible for the creation of many structures and infrastructure within Indiana state parks and forests, as well as many other public works across the state.[2] Eight Indiana CCC companies were comprised solely of African Americans. Company 517-C, formed in 1934 with 250 men and based outside of Corydon, became the largest and most enduring African American CCC company.[3] The “-C” in the name designated it as a “colored” group.[4]
One member of Company 517-C, Francis Crowdus, recounted his experience in the CCC, saying “there was a sense of high expectation. We worked hard and were expected to do it right. We used our muscles…we built barracks, dams, fought forest fires, reclaimed streams, and planted forests. Even though the CCC was one of President Roosevelt’s job programs, I never felt I was on welfare.”[5] In addition to the work described by Crowdus, the 517-C worked in natural stone quarries, as well as helped in rescue efforts following the flood of 1937.[6]
The time spent in segregated camps afforded the men opportunities they would not have otherwise had. At Corydon, Company 517-C was isolated from the surrounding white community, cementing a sense of belonging for those in 517-C. Another former member of Company 517-C claimed “I’ve never seen such camaraderie anywhere, not even in a fraternity or a church. It’s like blood brothers.” With this strong sense of teamwork, Company 517-C coined the phrase “We Can Take It!” as their motto, highlighting their hard work and friendship.[7]
While New Deal historians argue that race relations did not see improvement on a national level as a result of the CCC, it can be argued that race relations did improve on a local level by the brotherhood developed among African American young men following the Great Depression. Many white farmers and landowners of southern Indiana openly accepted and appreciated the help of the African American CCC groups.[8][9]
However, members of the 517-C were the subject of great prejudice in other areas of Indiana. Company 517-C moved to Portland in Jay County in the fall of 1939 to repair a drainage system. Their arrival caused much anxiety throughout the community. An editorial in The Sun & Commercial asked local citizens not to be alarmed assuring that “during the few months they will be kept under strict discipline by their white officers.”[10] With no diversity in Portland, the men of 517-C traveled to Muncie or Fort Wayne for their weekend social activities. With Camp Portland close to town, the local community cultivated a growing distrust of the CCC workers.
One of the 517-C crew, Marshall Carter, walked through an alley on his way out of town one evening in December 1939. A local resident yelled at him to stop, then open fired without warning, severely wounding Carter, and he was rushed to the local hospital. The attack was initially ignored in the national CCC paper Happy Days, greatly upsetting many of the African American CCC members.[11] However, the December 1939 issue of Ditch Dots and Dashes, published by 517-C members, blared the headline “Local Citizen Shoots C.C.C. Boy, Marshall Carter is Victim”. Subsequent issues included submissions from 517-C crew lamenting racial injustice in the form of testimonials and poetry, including Carter with a poem titled So You’re the Judge.[12] It was reported in the February 1940 issue that Carter had recovered from his wounds.[13]
In 1942, the CCC disbanded nationally as young men were needed to fight in WWII. Many members of the 517-C met for annual reunions at their camps in Corydon and Portland until the last CCC reunion in 1994.[14]
The first African American family to vacation there was that of Viola Reynolds in 1927. Reynolds was secretary at the Madam C.J. Walker Company, an Indianapolis cosmetic manufacturing business, which was the largest and most successful African American-owned business in the nation at that time. The Reynolds family was invited to buy a cottage from the Boyd family, a white family who had purchased land from the Fox Lake Land Company. News quickly spread about the resort, initially bringing in African American clientele mostly from Indianapolis, but soon bringing in visitors from cities within a day driving distance such as Detroit, Chicago, Toledo, Marion, and Fort Wayne.[2]
The Fox Lake resort was listed in the Negro Motorist Green Book, a book published annually by Victor H. Green that listed establishments that served African American patrons. The Green Book was published from 1936 to 1966, during which that resort was listed as “ANGOLA: Fox Lake Resort - 1 1/2 miles S. W. of Angola” in the 1941 edition.[3]
In its initial decade, Fox Lake residents were required to use a community water pump until wells could be built on the properties. Finally, in 1936 electricity arrived and 1938 saw the arrival of the Fox Lake Property Owners Association which organized trash removal, road maintenance, and the like. By the 1940s, the resort’s clubhouse hosted many well known musicians. The resort also boasted recreational amenities including tennis courts, horseshoe pits, and basketball hoops.[4] Saddle horses were also available until the early 1950s. Other activities included trap shooting matches, weekly Family Night at the restaurant, and Sunday school held on the beach under the trees.[5]
For the African American youth that lived within driving distance, the resort served as a recreational destination for beach swimming, dancing, and socializing. During World War II, African American troops stationed at nearby Baer Field in Fort Wayne were invited to enjoy the resort on their free weekends. In addition, a variety of meetings of African American fraternal organizations, churches, and alumni groups were also held at the resort.[6]
In the present day, Fox Lake Resort is still a flourishing African American community. Traditions dating back to the 1930s remain upheld by second and third generation lake cottage owners.[7] A portion of Fox Lake Resort, with 27 contributing single dwelling cottages, is listed on the National Register of Historic Places (since 2001) as a historic district.[8]
]]>Fox Lake Resort was the first and only resort established in Indiana catering to African American families, and one of only a few in the Midwest. In September 1924, a group of white Fort Wayne businessmen purchased land in Angola, Indiana, under the name of the Fox Lake Land Company. Their intention was to market the land to the growing Indiana African American community, specifically to African Americans in search of an independent resort where they would not be excluded. Almost all summer resorts at the time in Indiana excluded or severely limited the participation of African Americans. Advertisements described the resort as “a place of their own where they could escape the heat of the cities and enjoy the pleasures of summertime activities.”[1]
The first African American family to vacation there was that of Viola Reynolds in 1927. Reynolds was secretary at the Madam C.J. Walker Company, an Indianapolis cosmetic manufacturing business, which was the largest and most successful African American-owned business in the nation at that time. The Reynolds family was invited to buy a cottage from the Boyd family, a white family who had purchased land from the Fox Lake Land Company. News quickly spread about the resort, initially bringing in African American clientele mostly from Indianapolis, but soon bringing in visitors from cities within a day driving distance such as Detroit, Chicago, Toledo, Marion, and Fort Wayne.[2]
The Fox Lake resort was listed in the Negro Motorist Green Book, a book published annually by Victor H. Green that listed establishments that served African American patrons. The Green Book was published from 1936 to 1966, during which that resort was listed as “ANGOLA: Fox Lake Resort - 1 1/2 miles S. W. of Angola” in the 1941 edition.[3]
In its initial decade, Fox Lake residents were required to use a community water pump until wells could be built on the properties. Finally, in 1936 electricity arrived and 1938 saw the arrival of the Fox Lake Property Owners Association which organized trash removal, road maintenance, and the like. By the 1940s, the resort’s clubhouse hosted many well known musicians. The resort also boasted recreational amenities including tennis courts, horseshoe pits, and basketball hoops.[4] Saddle horses were also available until the early 1950s. Other activities included trap shooting matches, weekly Family Night at the restaurant, and Sunday school held on the beach under the trees.[5]
For the African American youth that lived within driving distance, the resort served as a recreational destination for beach swimming, dancing, and socializing. During World War II, African American troops stationed at nearby Baer Field in Fort Wayne were invited to enjoy the resort on their free weekends. In addition, a variety of meetings of African American fraternal organizations, churches, and alumni groups were also held at the resort.[6]
In the present day, Fox Lake Resort is still a flourishing African American community. Traditions dating back to the 1930s remain upheld by second and third generation lake cottage owners.[7] A portion of Fox Lake Resort, with 27 contributing single dwelling cottages, is listed on the National Register of Historic Places (since 2001) as a historic district.[8]
As part of her master’s thesis in the late 1930s, Harris sent out 500 questionnaires to African American elementary school officials throughout the Unites States, asking whether they had access to materials that highlighted the importance of African American culture, African American people of high achievement, or showed African American families. Only a handful of schools had materials that presented African Americans accurately and fairly. In response, she began writing the first of many editions of “Stories for Little Tots”, published in 1940, which was a collection of biographies of important African American individuals, specifically targeted for school-aged children. During this time, she was befriended by Dr. George Washington Carver who helped her promote “Stories for Little Tots”, which featured a biography of Carver.[3]
Harris Merriweather also wrote “A History of Eminent Negroes”, highlighting accomplished African American individuals. Each of her books, including her three-part “The Family” elementary reader series and “Stories for Little Tots”, went on to become highly useful educational tools for African American schools across the nation. Her books were an unprecedented form of literature designed for African American young people. According to Terre Haute resident James Flinn, “All the reading material at that time was written by whites for whites about whites.”[4] In fact, most of the authors writing about African American culture at the time were white as well, creating a skewed perspective and fostering African American stereotypes amongst their readers.
The small number of African American children literature authors in the 1940s had a limited reach and a very small audience, contributing to the prejudice and the self-fulfilling prophecies of the African American children who read of themselves mostly in a negative stereotypical light and portrayed by white authors.[5] One of Merriweather’s former students, Carolyn Roberts, who became a elementary teacher herself, remarked on the importance of Merriweather’s readers. “The first time to open up a book and see an African-American, and see what they had done, was so important.”[6] It was writers such as Harris Merriweather that greatly contributed to the shift in African American children’s literature and education, from harmful prejudiced views to those that inspired hope and motivation amongst young African American readers.
Evangeline suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 57, while still in the prime of her writing, educational, and singing career. Her contributions to African American children’s literature and culture are memorialized by an Indiana Historical Bureau marker on the campus of Indiana State University (formerly Indiana State Normal School).[7]
]]>Evangeline E. Harris was born in 1893 and raised in Terre Haute, Indiana. She attended Oberlin College in Ohio, Columbia University, and was an accomplished opera singer at the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston, before earning her master’s degree in education from Indiana State Normal School, now Indiana State University, in Terre Haute. Harris was a school teacher and music supervisor at various elementary schools in the Terre Haute area.[1] In 1936, she married Charles Merriweather and they remained in Terre Haute. Harris Merriweather continued to teach elementary school and perform as an opera singer both locally and across the nation.[2]
As part of her master’s thesis in the late 1930s, Harris sent out 500 questionnaires to African American elementary school officials throughout the Unites States, asking whether they had access to materials that highlighted the importance of African American culture, African American people of high achievement, or showed African American families. Only a handful of schools had materials that presented African Americans accurately and fairly. In response, she began writing the first of many editions of “Stories for Little Tots”, published in 1940, which was a collection of biographies of important African American individuals, specifically targeted for school-aged children. During this time, she was befriended by Dr. George Washington Carver who helped her promote “Stories for Little Tots”, which featured a biography of Carver.[3]
Harris Merriweather also wrote “A History of Eminent Negroes”, highlighting accomplished African American individuals. Each of her books, including her three-part “The Family” elementary reader series and “Stories for Little Tots”, went on to become highly useful educational tools for African American schools across the nation. Her books were an unprecedented form of literature designed for African American young people. According to Terre Haute resident James Flinn, “All the reading material at that time was written by whites for whites about whites.”[4] In fact, most of the authors writing about African American culture at the time were white as well, creating a skewed perspective and fostering African American stereotypes amongst their readers.
The small number of African American children literature authors in the 1940s had a limited reach and a very small audience, contributing to the prejudice and the self-fulfilling prophecies of the African American children who read of themselves mostly in a negative stereotypical light and portrayed by white authors.[5] One of Merriweather’s former students, Carolyn Roberts, who became a elementary teacher herself, remarked on the importance of Merriweather’s readers. “The first time to open up a book and see an African-American, and see what they had done, was so important.”[6] It was writers such as Harris Merriweather that greatly contributed to the shift in African American children’s literature and education, from harmful prejudiced views to those that inspired hope and motivation amongst young African American readers.
Evangeline suffered a fatal cerebral hemorrhage at the age of 57, while still in the prime of her writing, educational, and singing career. Her contributions to African American children’s literature and culture are memorialized by an Indiana Historical Bureau marker on the campus of Indiana State University (formerly Indiana State Normal School).[7]
The 1920s marked a great resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan in Indiana, which pressured for segregated education. There was much pushback from African Americans regarding Crispus Attucks being segregated. The Better Indianapolis League, as well as African American churches such as the Bethel AME Church in Indianapolis, strongly opposed segregating the school.[2] Despite this, the school board voted unanimously on segregation. African American students who had previously attended integrated Indianapolis high schools, such as Arsenal Technical, Washington, and Shortridge, moved to Crispus Attucks upon the school’s opening, and were no longer allowed to attend any other public high school in the city. The Indianapolis Recorder reported on this incident, stating: “About two dozen of boys and girls who appeared at Shortridge, Manual and Technical High Schools...were refused admission...The Negro citizens are now faced with the circumstance, voiced by opponents of a Negro High School in the past. The great establishments as Technical, Manual, and Shortridge, offer subjects or works, and facilities that Negro boys and girls will never have at the Attucks High School, some parents declare.”[3]
Many Crispus Attucks’ teachers held master’s degrees or PhDs, which was unusual for a high school at the time. Richard Pierce in Polite Protest states, “By 1934, seven years after opening its doors, the sixty-two-member faculty held nineteen master’s degrees and two Ph.D.s. The percentage of advanced degrees held by Attucks’s faculty far exceeded that of any other high school in the city.”[4] With the amount of highly educated faculty, Attucks provided quality education despite the lack of quality resources compared to the city’s white high schools. The school also found success in sports. In the 1950s, the Attucks Tigers won two consecutive state basketball championships. The 1955 championship made the Tigers the first segregated black high school team in US history to win a state title.[5] Notable athletes who played on the team included future NBA Hall of Famer Oscar Robertson.[6]
Statewide desegregation was enacted into law by the Indiana General Assembly in 1949, five years before the Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision. However, Crispus Attucks continued to be a segregated African American high school. In 1965, the president of the NAACP requested an investigation into why Indianapolis Public Schools (IPS) were still segregated. In 1968, the Department of Justice “directed IPS to begin taking voluntary steps toward actual integration.” IPS ignored this directive, which was met with protests from the African American community, and from whites who refused to let their children attend Attucks High School. The school would remain segregated until September 7, 1971 “under court-ordered desegregation”.[7]
Recognized for both its architecture and its role in African American education and civil rights, Crispus Attucks High School was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1989. In 1992, the Indiana Historical Bureau erected a historical marker in front of the school, recounting its history and its importance to the Indianapolis African American community.
]]>Crispus Attucks High School, located in Indianapolis, Indiana, opened in 1927. Originally, it was to be named after President Thomas Jefferson. However, the idea of a school built explicitly for African American students named for a white slave owner invoked multiple petitions from the African American community. The name changed to Crispus Attucks to honor the runaway slave who is said to have been the first person to die in the American Revolution, during the Boston Massacre.[1]
The 1920s marked a great resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan in Indiana, which pressured for segregated education. There was much pushback from African Americans regarding Crispus Attucks being segregated. The Better Indianapolis League, as well as African American churches such as the Bethel AME Church in Indianapolis, strongly opposed segregating the school.[2] Despite this, the school board voted unanimously on segregation. African American students who had previously attended integrated Indianapolis high schools, such as Arsenal Technical, Washington, and Shortridge, moved to Crispus Attucks upon the school’s opening, and were no longer allowed to attend any other public high school in the city. The Indianapolis Recorder reported on this incident, stating: “About two dozen of boys and girls who appeared at Shortridge, Manual and Technical High Schools...were refused admission...The Negro citizens are now faced with the circumstance, voiced by opponents of a Negro High School in the past. The great establishments as Technical, Manual, and Shortridge, offer subjects or works, and facilities that Negro boys and girls will never have at the Attucks High School, some parents declare.”[3]
Many Crispus Attucks’ teachers held master’s degrees or PhDs, which was unusual for a high school at the time. Richard Pierce in Polite Protest states, “By 1934, seven years after opening its doors, the sixty-two-member faculty held nineteen master’s degrees and two Ph.D.s. The percentage of advanced degrees held by Attucks’s faculty far exceeded that of any other high school in the city.”[4] With the amount of highly educated faculty, Attucks provided quality education despite the lack of quality resources compared to the city’s white high schools. The school also found success in sports. In the 1950s, the Attucks Tigers won two consecutive state basketball championships. The 1955 championship made the Tigers the first segregated black high school team in US history to win a state title.[5] Notable athletes who played on the team included future NBA Hall of Famer Oscar Robertson.[6]
Statewide desegregation was enacted into law by the Indiana General Assembly in 1949, five years before the Brown v. Board of Education Supreme Court decision. However, Crispus Attucks continued to be a segregated African American high school. In 1965, the president of the NAACP requested an investigation into why Indianapolis Public Schools (IPS) were still segregated. In 1968, the Department of Justice “directed IPS to begin taking voluntary steps toward actual integration.” IPS ignored this directive, which was met with protests from the African American community, and from whites who refused to let their children attend Attucks High School. The school would remain segregated until September 7, 1971 “under court-ordered desegregation”.[7]
Recognized for both its architecture and its role in African American education and civil rights, Crispus Attucks High School was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1989. In 1992, the Indiana Historical Bureau erected a historical marker in front of the school, recounting its history and its importance to the Indianapolis African American community.
Madam C.J. Walker, originally named Sarah Breedlove, was born in 1867 in Louisiana to former slaves. At the age of seven, she became an orphan and lived with her older sister Louvenia.[1] Breedlove married Moses McWilliams at the age of 14 and in 1885, they had a daughter Lelia. Widowed two years later, Sarah Breedlove McWilliams and her daughter moved to St. Louis, where she worked as a laundress and studied at night school.[2] Breedlove McWilliams suffered from hair loss, which inspired experimentation with homemade hair care remedies, resulting in products that promoted healthy hair growth.[3]
In 1906, while living in Denver, Colorado, Breedlove McWilliams married Charles Joseph Walker, who worked in advertising. She became known as Madam C.J. Walker and decided to sell her own hair care products under her new moniker.[4] The new name evoked a French flair to make her products more impressive to potential buyers as opposed to a “condescending name like ‘Aunt Sarah.’”[5] In 1908, while living in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, Walker founded Lelia College, named for her daughter, which offered a course in her hair care and beauty methods to aspiring “hair culturists”.[6] In 1910, the Walkers moved to Indianapolis, Indiana, where she opened a laboratory and a beauty school. Walker and her husband divorced in 1912.[7]
The Madam C.J. Walker Manufacturing Company included a factory, and along with the laboratory and beauty school, manufactured Walker’s beauty products and trained her nationwide sales force of “beauty culturists” using the “The Walker System”. With the factory employees and thousands of African American women sales agents across the country, Walker ran a successful line of cosmetic and hair care products that not only promoted hair growth, but hair and skin beautification as well. Her agents made sales and educated customers on the importance of hygiene and presenting oneself in a clean and proper manner.[8] In 1916, her agents organized into the National Beauty Culturist and Benevolent Association of Madame C.J. Walker Agents, later known as the Madam C.J. Walker Hair Culturists Union of America, holding annual conventions.[9] Walker encouraged her sales agents to give back to improve society, giving rewards to the sales agents who made the largest philanthropic contributions in their African American communities.
Walker was an active philanthropist and social activist in Indianapolis. In all areas of her life, she strove for and demanded equal rights, including filing suit against the Isis Theater for charging a higher admission rate (25 cents vs. 15 cents) for African American patrons. She protested segregation within the military during World War I and advocated for an African American army officer training camp.[10] Madam Walker donated to multiple African American charities and community organizations in Indianapolis such as the Senate Avenue YMCA, the Bethel AME Church, Flanner House, and Alpha Home. On a nationwide level, she contributed to campaigns to stop lynching and supported the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP), which was newly- formed in 1909.[11]
Throughout her life, Madam C.J. Walker worked tirelessly to create a better life for herself, her family, and her African American community in a segregated Indianapolis. The hard work and hardship took its toll, and she developed health issues in her late forties.[12] In April 1919, she passed away on May 25, 1919 at the age of 51.[13] At the time of her death, she was worth an estimated $600,000 (over $6 million in 2020 dollars), and was considered the wealthiest African American woman in America.[14] She is often lauded as the “America’s first self-made female millionaire."[15]
The legacy of Madam C.J. Walker is exemplified in the personal pride, entrepreneurship, and sense of civic responsibility that her products, business, and personal life instilled in African Americans, especially African American women, throughout the country. After Walker’s death, her daughter took over the Walker Manufacturing Company and in 1927, moved the factory and headquarters to the newly built Walker Building in Indianapolis. The building included a ballroom, theater, hair salon, other public spaces, and became an African American community cultural center.[16] The Walker Building, and the surrounding Indiana Avenue neighborhood, became a hub for the African American arts, culture, and jazz scene in segregated Indianapolis through the 1960s. A tangible reminder of her legacy, The Madame C.J. Walker Building was listed in the National Register for Historic Places in 1980 and was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 1991.[17]
Theodore Roosevelt High School in Gary, Indiana, also known as Gary Roosevelt, can trace its origins to 1908 when the Gary school board issued the segregation of all public schools. The first school for African American children in Gary was built that same year. As the population grew, African American students were also educated in other segregated schools and in portable classrooms, and by 1921, those portable classrooms were located at the present location of Gary Roosevelt.[1] Public school segregation remained in effect, but a few African American students were allowed to enroll in white schools (in segregated classes) if space existed. Under this plan, 18 African American high school students were transferred to white Emerson School in 1927. In protest, over 600 white Emerson students conducted a four-day walkout known as the Emerson Strike.[2] The strike was ended when the Gary City Council agreed to allocate funds to create an African American high school, to be named after President Theodore Roosevelt.[3]
Theodore Roosevelt High School was built in 1930 exclusively for African American students. The Gary Roosevelt building features design elements inspired by Independence Hall in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Additional classroom wings were added in 1946 and 1968.[4] The physical design of the Gary Roosevelt building supported what was known as the Gary System of Education or the Gary Plan. Developed by Dr. William A. Wirt, the city’s first superintendent of schools from 1907-1938, the Gary Plan was a Progressive Era educational concept, with some elements of the system playing a role in how schools function today.[5] The Gary Plan emphasized both vocational training and college preparatory classes, a lengthened school day that kept students “off the streets”, and emphasized “work-study-play” incorporating academics, vocational, and recreational activities into each school day. The Gary Plan maximized the utilization and capacity of the building, and even advocated students attending school on Saturday.[6]
Although the official school board policy of public school segregation ended in 1947[7], Gary Roosevelt, like virtually all of Gary public schools, remained segregated by the adjustment of school district and individual school boundaries. The school district boundaries were based on the racial mix of the various neighborhoods.[8] Wirt’s Gary Plan was mostly abandoned in favor of more mainstream educational ideas and in response to severe overcrowding due to a post-WWII population explosion in Gary. Adherence to segregation enforced by neighborhood racial boundaries, no matter the amount of population growth, meant that for almost 20 years, Gary Roosevelt students attended classes in rented portable classrooms or attended half-day sessions in an effort to ease the extreme overcrowding.[9]
Teachers at Gary Roosevelt have educated generations of African American children for nearly a century. The school is now known as the Theodore Roosevelt College and Career Academy, a charter school for grades 7-12. The building formerly known as Theodore Roosevelt High School is listed on the National Register of Historic Places for its architectural importance, its role in the Progressive Era in education, and the integral part it played in Gary's segregated public school system.[10]
The National Black Political Convention took place in the gymnasium at Gary’s West Side High School, now called West Side Leadership Academy. West Side High School, built in 1968 to integrate students within the Gary School System, was the largest high school in Indiana at the time.[10] The convention hoped to cultivate a neutral space for its diverse delegates, where everyone “from members of Congress to street gang members from Chicago would feel welcome.”[11] The slogan “unity without uniformity” was the rallying cry of the convention, whose leaders hoped to create a united black political front without necessarily agreeing on methods of strategy or implementation.[12] The National Black Political Agenda which was ratified during the convention was supposed to be representative of the collective political will of African Americans nationwide.[13] From there, leaders of the convention “would then take this agenda to the Democratic and Republican National Conventions to determine which one of the two presidential candidates was more sympathetic to blacks.”[14] Then, the agenda was hoped to serve as a guide for the president in order to “guide his relationship with black Americans.”[15] However, the convention was plagued by division, especially over the issues of integration versus black nationalism, busing of African American children to white schools in order to end school segregation, and a controversial anti-Israel amendment to the agenda.[16]
At a time when the country was still experiencing violent protests and racism, managing to host a black political convention of more than eight thousand African Americans represented empowerment and progress. Among the leaders was Reverend Jesse Jackson Sr., an activist who had worked alongside Martin Luther King, Jr. in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He delivered a passionate speech on the significance of the convention. Other speeches focused on African American political and economic freedom, and also on tumultuous events such as the violence in Selma, Alabama, the Voting Rights Act and the deaths of major African American political figures like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X. One of the major subjects of discussion was Pan-Africanism, an intellectual movement which sought to unite people from Africa or from African descent in a collective movement internationally.[17]
The National Black Political Convention issued the Gary Declaration, a document which served as “an initial statement of goals and directions for [the delegates’] own generation, some first definitions of crucial issues around which Black people must organize and move in 1972 and beyond.”[18] For the delegates at the National Black Political Convention, the only way to implement a real change for African Americans nationwide was to develop an independent black politics and to ensure an equal representation of African American representatives in the government.[19] As the Gary Declaration states, the delegates at the National Black Political Convention found that historically, “both parties have betrayed [black Americans] whenever their interests conflicted with [black Americans’] (which was most of the time).”[20] The Gary Declaration ends with a clear call to action for all African Americans: “We begin here and now in Gary. We begin with an independent Black political movement, an independent Black Political Agenda, and independent Black spirit. Nothing less will do. We must build for our people. We must build for our world. We stand on the edge of history. We cannot turn back.”[21]
The National Black Political Convention in Gary was a euphoric event, filling its delegates with hope for the future and a sense of true empowerment.[22] It represents a distinct moment in American history in which “a formidable collection of black Americans were energized by the possibility of stepping outside the confines” of mainstream white American politics.[23] However, the National Black Agenda and Gary Declaration were “more romantic than pragmatic,” creating an idealistic stance that was “so unrealistic as to be unrealizable.”[24] The convention failed in its goals of creating a clear consensus and energizing a nationwide coalition of black citizens which could influence mainstream American politics. Nevertheless, the energy the convention created in Gary has had a clear legacy in African American politics in the United States. The National Black Political Convention is credited with the organization of black voters and candidates which would lead to significant growth in the number of African American politicians elected nationwide; from 2,200 at the time of the convention in 1972 to more than 5,000 just ten years later.[25]
]]>For three days in March 1972, the city of Gary, Indiana hosted approximately 8,000 black political leaders and citizens from across the nation.[1] These delegates came together to form the National Black Political Convention, “a distinctly black political movement” independent from both major American political parties.[2] Throughout the weekend, delegates aimed to discuss the future of African American people in America and to create a National Black Agenda that would address nationwide poverty and high unemployment rates of African Americans, along with the general alienation of African Americans from the political system across party lines.[3]
The city of Gary was chosen to host the convention despite its relatively small size and few accommodations.[4] Gary had only one hotel at the time, but was chosen “because it was a predominantly black city governed by an elected black mayor, who was able to ensure a welcoming environment for the thousands of black delegates and visitors to the convention.”[5] In 1972, Gary had a population of about 175,000, half of which were African American.[6] Mayor Richard Gordon Hatcher had been elected in November 1967, and was the first African American mayor in Indiana’s history.[7] Along with Mayor Carl Stokes of Cleveland, elected the same year, Hatcher was also the first African American mayor “to head a major American city.”[8] Hatcher was the chair of the planning conference for the convention held on September 24, 1971, and offered Gary as a host city, saying that “We should do it at a place where Black people from all over the country could feel comfortable. Wouldn’t have to worry about the police beating them. Wouldn’t have to worry about getting cooperation from city officials.”[9]
The National Black Political Convention took place in the gymnasium at Gary’s West Side High School, now called West Side Leadership Academy. West Side High School, built in 1968 to integrate students within the Gary School System, was the largest high school in Indiana at the time.[10] The convention hoped to cultivate a neutral space for its diverse delegates, where everyone “from members of Congress to street gang members from Chicago would feel welcome.”[11] The slogan “unity without uniformity” was the rallying cry of the convention, whose leaders hoped to create a united black political front without necessarily agreeing on methods of strategy or implementation.[12] The National Black Political Agenda which was ratified during the convention was supposed to be representative of the collective political will of African Americans nationwide.[13] From there, leaders of the convention “would then take this agenda to the Democratic and Republican National Conventions to determine which one of the two presidential candidates was more sympathetic to blacks.”[14] Then, the agenda was hoped to serve as a guide for the president in order to “guide his relationship with black Americans.”[15] However, the convention was plagued by division, especially over the issues of integration versus black nationalism, busing of African American children to white schools in order to end school segregation, and a controversial anti-Israel amendment to the agenda.[16]
At a time when the country was still experiencing violent protests and racism, managing to host a black political convention of more than eight thousand African Americans represented empowerment and progress. Among the leaders was Reverend Jesse Jackson Sr., an activist who had worked alongside Martin Luther King, Jr. in the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. He delivered a passionate speech on the significance of the convention. Other speeches focused on African American political and economic freedom, and also on tumultuous events such as the violence in Selma, Alabama, the Voting Rights Act and the deaths of major African American political figures like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Malcolm X. One of the major subjects of discussion was Pan-Africanism, an intellectual movement which sought to unite people from Africa or from African descent in a collective movement internationally.[17]
The National Black Political Convention issued the Gary Declaration, a document which served as “an initial statement of goals and directions for [the delegates’] own generation, some first definitions of crucial issues around which Black people must organize and move in 1972 and beyond.”[18] For the delegates at the National Black Political Convention, the only way to implement a real change for African Americans nationwide was to develop an independent black politics and to ensure an equal representation of African American representatives in the government.[19] As the Gary Declaration states, the delegates at the National Black Political Convention found that historically, “both parties have betrayed [black Americans] whenever their interests conflicted with [black Americans’] (which was most of the time).”[20] The Gary Declaration ends with a clear call to action for all African Americans: “We begin here and now in Gary. We begin with an independent Black political movement, an independent Black Political Agenda, and independent Black spirit. Nothing less will do. We must build for our people. We must build for our world. We stand on the edge of history. We cannot turn back.”[21]
The National Black Political Convention in Gary was a euphoric event, filling its delegates with hope for the future and a sense of true empowerment.[22] It represents a distinct moment in American history in which “a formidable collection of black Americans were energized by the possibility of stepping outside the confines” of mainstream white American politics.[23] However, the National Black Agenda and Gary Declaration were “more romantic than pragmatic,” creating an idealistic stance that was “so unrealistic as to be unrealizable.”[24] The convention failed in its goals of creating a clear consensus and energizing a nationwide coalition of black citizens which could influence mainstream American politics. Nevertheless, the energy the convention created in Gary has had a clear legacy in African American politics in the United States. The National Black Political Convention is credited with the organization of black voters and candidates which would lead to significant growth in the number of African American politicians elected nationwide; from 2,200 at the time of the convention in 1972 to more than 5,000 just ten years later.[25]
In 1914, one of the best African American baseball managers at the time, Charles “C.I.” Taylor, moved to Indianapolis and bought a half-interest in the team.[7] Taylor began to search across the country for some of the best African American baseball players to join the ABCs.[8] As the team improved and traveled, it gained many African American followers and even some white fans.[9] One of the most famous ABCs fans was Indianapolis African American businesswoman Madam C.J. Walker. She attended many games at Northwestern Park and later Washington Park, after the team signed a lease to use the stadium.[10] Washington Park was the site of the first game in the National Negro League in 1920 between the Indianapolis ABCs and the Chicago Giants. The lease with Washington Park allowed the ABCs to play more home games than other teams in their league, which allowed fans around the city more opportunities to see the ABCs in action.[11]
As Ku Klux Klan activity increased in the 1920s, the KKK attempted to suppress opportunities of African American sports teams by making it harder for those teams to receive a stadium lease for ballparks owned by whites.[12] Even though the ABCs were able to secure a stadium lease, there were other instances of discrimination. In 1914, the Hoosier Federals of the whites only Federal League was one of the best teams in the state, and many people wanted to the ABCs and Federals to play in an exhibition game. However, Federals owner W.H. Watkins denied the decision, afraid if his team lost to an African American team it may ruin their reputation as a strong opponent.[13] This decision by white teams not to play the ABCs frustrated many of the ABCs players. In response, Wallace Gordon, the second baseman for the ABCs, wrote a poem to the Indianapolis Ledger where he stresses that he just wanted these teams to give them a chance and meet them “face to face.”[14]
In 1920, the Negro National League was formed, with the ABCs one of the original teams.[15] By joining the Negro National League, the team was able play league opponents such as the Kansas City Monarchs, gaining a much larger regional following.[16] The ABCs continued to face discrimination as they traveled across the country. Often times, the ABCs would not be able to find hotel or restaurant accommodations in the cities they visited.[17] The third baseman of the ABCs mentioned how “you could find places, but they wouldn’t serve you and that was rough…. I’d just go somewhere and get me a loaf of bread and a can of sardines…. I don’t know sometimes I wonder myself what kept us going?”[18]
After being one of the top teams in the Negro National League between 1920 and 1923, the ABCs had difficulties in the late 1920s and 1930s.[19] Many of the better ABC players moved to the Eastern Colored League, due to better financial opportunities in larger markets.[20] The Great Depression hit the nation in 1929; the ABCs were also affected by the economic collapse. In order to save money on bus fare, the team began to take road trips in cars loaded with passengers and gear. Sadly, this led to a tragedy in 1935 when six ABCs were in a car that flipped, killing first baseman Carl Lewis.[21] The team continued playing through the Depression, operating at a semi-professional level starting in 1935 because of financial struggles.[22] The Indianapolis ABCs would play their last game in 1940 at Perry Stadium in Indianapolis, later known as Bush Stadium.[23]
Despite the collapse of the ABCs, the team was an influential part of the African American community in Indianapolis. They gave African Americans a home team to cheer for and take pride in for over 30 years. The significance of Washington Park, the home field of the Indianapolis ABCs and the location of the first game of the Negro National League, is commemorated with a historical marker erected by the Indiana Historical Bureau and the Society for American Baseball Research, Negro Leagues Research Committee in 2011.[24] The ABCs would pave the way for another African American baseball team in the city: the Indianapolis Clowns. The Clowns would play during a time of great change in the world of baseball, namely racial desegregation within Major League Baseball. ]]>Baseball has been considered America’s past time for over a century. It has been played by people of all ages and all races since its creation. As more African Americans began to move to Indianapolis around the turn of the twentieth century, many African American athletic teams were created.[1] The Indianapolis ABCs, a professional baseball team established in 1902, was sponsored by the American Brewing Company in its early years.[2] As the team traveled around the country to play exhibition games, the American Brewing Company would supply kegs of beer for fans’ refreshment as a marketing tool.[3] Early on, the ABCs played their home games at Indianapolis’ Northwestern Park which was located at 18th Street and Brighton Boulevard at a field surrounded by wooden grandstands.[4] Most opponents were local, but they did play regional teams on major holidays in the summer.[5] Not only did the ABCs gain the attention of the local African American community, they were also recognized nationally through the coverage of journalist David Wyatt in the Indianapolis Freeman.[6]
In 1914, one of the best African American baseball managers at the time, Charles “C.I.” Taylor, moved to Indianapolis and bought a half-interest in the team.[7] Taylor began to search across the country for some of the best African American baseball players to join the ABCs.[8] As the team improved and traveled, it gained many African American followers and even some white fans.[9] One of the most famous ABCs fans was Indianapolis African American businesswoman Madam C.J. Walker. She attended many games at Northwestern Park and later Washington Park, after the team signed a lease to use the stadium.[10] Washington Park was the site of the first game in the National Negro League in 1920 between the Indianapolis ABCs and the Chicago Giants. The lease with Washington Park allowed the ABCs to play more home games than other teams in their league, which allowed fans around the city more opportunities to see the ABCs in action.[11]
As Ku Klux Klan activity increased in the 1920s, the KKK attempted to suppress opportunities of African American sports teams by making it harder for those teams to receive a stadium lease for ballparks owned by whites.[12] Even though the ABCs were able to secure a stadium lease, there were other instances of discrimination. In 1914, the Hoosier Federals of the whites only Federal League was one of the best teams in the state, and many people wanted to the ABCs and Federals to play in an exhibition game. However, Federals owner W.H. Watkins denied the decision, afraid if his team lost to an African American team it may ruin their reputation as a strong opponent.[13] This decision by white teams not to play the ABCs frustrated many of the ABCs players. In response, Wallace Gordon, the second baseman for the ABCs, wrote a poem to the Indianapolis Ledger where he stresses that he just wanted these teams to give them a chance and meet them “face to face.”[14]
In 1920, the Negro National League was formed, with the ABCs one of the original teams.[15] By joining the Negro National League, the team was able play league opponents such as the Kansas City Monarchs, gaining a much larger regional following.[16] The ABCs continued to face discrimination as they traveled across the country. Often times, the ABCs would not be able to find hotel or restaurant accommodations in the cities they visited.[17] The third baseman of the ABCs mentioned how “you could find places, but they wouldn’t serve you and that was rough…. I’d just go somewhere and get me a loaf of bread and a can of sardines…. I don’t know sometimes I wonder myself what kept us going?”[18]
After being one of the top teams in the Negro National League between 1920 and 1923, the ABCs had difficulties in the late 1920s and 1930s.[19] Many of the better ABC players moved to the Eastern Colored League, due to better financial opportunities in larger markets.[20] The Great Depression hit the nation in 1929; the ABCs were also affected by the economic collapse. In order to save money on bus fare, the team began to take road trips in cars loaded with passengers and gear. Sadly, this led to a tragedy in 1935 when six ABCs were in a car that flipped, killing first baseman Carl Lewis.[21] The team continued playing through the Depression, operating at a semi-professional level starting in 1935 because of financial struggles.[22] The Indianapolis ABCs would play their last game in 1940 at Perry Stadium in Indianapolis, later known as Bush Stadium.[23]
Despite the collapse of the ABCs, the team was an influential part of the African American community in Indianapolis. They gave African Americans a home team to cheer for and take pride in for over 30 years. The significance of Washington Park, the home field of the Indianapolis ABCs and the location of the first game of the Negro National League, is commemorated with a historical marker erected by the Indiana Historical Bureau and the Society for American Baseball Research, Negro Leagues Research Committee in 2011.[24] The ABCs would pave the way for another African American baseball team in the city: the Indianapolis Clowns. The Clowns would play during a time of great change in the world of baseball, namely racial desegregation within Major League Baseball.In 1946, the national YMCA leadership decided to desegregate facilities across the country.[16] Despite this change in policy, the Senate Avenue YMCA membership remained predominantly African American.[17] Under DeFrantz, the Senate Avenue YMCA grew from 350 members in 1913 to 5000 members when he retired in 1951.[18] During this time, he helped develop the largest African American YMCA in the country and a better sense of community among blacks living in Indianapolis.[19] The Senate Avenue branch would continue succeed following DeFrantz’s retirement until activities would later be moved to a new facility at Fall Creek Parkway and 10th Street on September 13, 1959.[20]
Over its 46-year history, the Senate Avenue YMCA gave opportunities to African Americans living in Indianapolis that they may have not received anywhere else in the city. They provided classes and the tools needed for African Americans to be professionally prepared and socially aware of the changes occurring in American society. By having a designated facility to meet, a stronger sense of community developed among African Americans living in the state capitol. The Senate Avenue YMCA branch closed in 1959, but its legacy continued through the twentieth century with the construction of the Fall Creek YMCA, which remained open until the fall of 2003.[21] In 2016, the Indiana Historical Bureau and the YMCA of Greater Indianapolis installed a historical marker at the site.[22]
At the turn of the twentieth century, discrimination around the country was still a dominant factor in American society. This included Indiana, which had segregated schools, neighborhoods, and gathering places. To continue with the idea of “separate but equal,” many white officials in Indianapolis attempted to create a separate YMCA for African Americans in 1900.[1] In response to this, two African American physicians, Henry Hummons and Dan Brown, organized a group of black citizens to discuss the need for “wholesome” recreational facilities.[2] They wanted to create a “permanent quarters with which there will be connected a reading-room, educational classrooms, a gymnasium and bathrooms” for the African American men living in Indianapolis.[3] After discussing this need, the men created the Young Men’s Prayer Band as a stepping stone toward an African American YMCA in the state capitol.[4] Two years later, the Young Men’s Prayer Band was recognized by the YMCA after John Evans arrived to oversee the organization and help it move towards this status.[5]
In the early years of the organization, Indianapolis African Americans would meet in private homes, churches, and a deserted neighborhood house called the Flanner Guild because they did not have a designated location in the city.[6] Despite this setback, the community began to become more involved with the Young Men’s Prayer Band, and in 1910, it became an official YMCA for African Americans in the city.[7] Even after this milestone, the branch did not have its own facility until three years later in 1913 when a new building at the corner of Senate Avenue and Michigan Street opened its doors to the African American community with a dedication speech given by civil rights activist Booker T. Washington.[8] This was a major accomplishment for African Americans living in Indianapolis. By having a place where black men could learn and interact with each other, the Senate Avenue YMCA was improving the lives of African Americans in Indianapolis.
As the building opened, Faburn DeFrantz arrived in Indianapolis from Washington D.C. to serve as the physical director of the Senate Avenue YMCA, and three years later as the executive secretary of the branch.[9] As the leader of the Senate Avenue YMCA, DeFrantz developed classes in athletics, Bible study, school subjects, automotive repairs, and many more to help African American men prepare for jobs and improve their lives.[10] In addition, DeFrantz continued one of the most influential programs at the Indianapolis branch since 1904: the “Monster Meetings.”[11] These meetings discussed a variety of topics including education, religion, science, and politics to help the African American community have a better understanding of news from around the country.[12] Some of these meetings were led by famous speakers such as W.E.B. DuBois, Madam C.J. Walker, and Eleanor Roosevelt.[13] Under DeFrantz, the Senate Avenue Branch was also politically active by attempting to end school segregation and promoting job opportunities for African Americans in the city.[14] Along with pushing for civil rights, the branch also assisted African American families during the Great Depression by providing housing and food for men and boys. At the start of the Depression, from January to October of 1931, the Senate Avenue YMCA provided 4,827 nights of free lodging and 3,200 free meals for the African American community to help them get through the hard times.[15]
In 1946, the national YMCA leadership decided to desegregate facilities across the country.[16] Despite this change in policy, the Senate Avenue YMCA membership remained predominantly African American.[17] Under DeFrantz, the Senate Avenue YMCA grew from 350 members in 1913 to 5000 members when he retired in 1951.[18] During this time, he helped develop the largest African American YMCA in the country and a better sense of community among blacks living in Indianapolis.[19] The Senate Avenue branch would continue succeed following DeFrantz’s retirement until activities would later be moved to a new facility at Fall Creek Parkway and 10th Street on September 13, 1959.[20]
Over its 46-year history, the Senate Avenue YMCA gave opportunities to African Americans living in Indianapolis that they may have not received anywhere else in the city. They provided classes and the tools needed for African Americans to be professionally prepared and socially aware of the changes occurring in American society. By having a designated facility to meet, a stronger sense of community developed among African Americans living in the state capitol. The Senate Avenue YMCA branch closed in 1959, but its legacy continued through the twentieth century with the construction of the Fall Creek YMCA, which remained open until the fall of 2003.[21] In 2016, the Indiana Historical Bureau and the YMCA of Greater Indianapolis installed a historical marker at the site.[22]
[1] David J.Bodenhamer and Robert G. Barrows, and David Gordon Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1994), 1249.
[2] Ibid.
[3] “Colored Y.M.C.A.,” Indianapolis News, March 31, 1902, 2, https://newspapers.library.in.gov/?a=d&d=INN19020331-01.1.2&srpos=2&e=31-03-1902-----en-20-INN-1-byDA-txt-txIN-Colored------.
[4] Bodenhamer and Barrows and Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, 1249.
[5] Nina Mjagkij, Light in the Darkness : African Americans and the YMCA, 1852-1946(Lexington, Ky: University Press of Kentucky, 1994), 58.
[6] Bodenhamer and Barows and Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, 1249.
[7] Bodenhamer and Barows and Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, 1249.
[8] Stanley Warren, "The Monster Meetings at the Negro YMCA in Indianapolis." Indiana Magazine of History 91, no. 1 (1995).
[9] Joseph Skvarenina, “Farburn E. DeFrantz and the Senate Avenue YMCA,” Traces 20 no. 1 (2008): 37
[10] Ibid, 38
[11] Bodenhamer and Barows and Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, 1250
[12] Skvarenina, “Faburn E. DeFrantz,” 37.
[13] Ibid.
[14] Skvarenina, “Faburn E. DeFrantz,” 38.
[15] Mjagkij, Light in the Darkness, 117.
[16] “YMCA Adopts Recommendation to Drop Racial Segregation,” Indianapolis Recorder, March 23, 1946, 1.
[17] Bodenhamer and Barows and Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, 1250.
[18] Skvarenina, “Faburn E. DeFrantz,” 39.
[19] Bodenhamer and Barows and Vanderstel, The Encyclopedia of Indianapolis, 1250.
[20] “Sunday Set For Official ‘Y’ Dedication,” Indianapolis Recorder, September 12, 1959, 1.
[21] Sara Galer, “Fall Creek YMCA to be demolished,” WTHR, May 6, 2010, last updated April 15, 2016.
[22] Indiana Historical Bureau, Senate Avenue YMCA.
Better Homes of South Bend was a corporation created in May 1950 in an effort to combat housing discrimination against African Americans. African Americans who worked at the South Bend Studebaker plant started the group. Most members lived in World War II-era prefabricated houses on Prairie Street near the Studebaker factory. They established a corporation to provide a better chance of securing homes outside of the slums near the factories.The members “wanted to find homes away from the factories and slums that surrounded them and give their children a better start in life than they themselves had."[1] Better Homes of South Bend’s attorney, J. Chester Allen, kept the location of potential neighborhoods a secret in an effort to get families moved into anew area with as little resistance as possible. In the 1950s, not everyone was open to the idea of African American families living in their neighborhood.[2]
The members of Better Homes of South Bend all had Southern roots. Either they or their parents had moved to the North to escape Jim Crow laws that enforced racial segregation. Although the members had moved to South Bend looking for a better lifeamid relatively good paying manufacturing jobs, they were unable to escape discrimination. Two of the biggest challenges they faced were discrimination in housing and employment. Reverend B.F. Gordon attested to the discrimination of African Americans in South Bend in his 1922 book The Negro in South Bend: A Social Study. “Give him the same recreational opportunities, the same educational opportunities, the same industrial advantages (in particular those advantages that call for better education, and personal conduct,) and the same privileges to buy and sell, land or commodities...”[3]
African Americans in South Bend were seeking equal opportunities.On June 25, 1941, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 8802, which states,“I do hereby reaffirm the policy of the United States that there shall be no discrimination in the employment of workers in defense industries or government because of race, creed, color, or national origin.”[4] However, as was evident in South Bend, public opinion was strong enough to disregard the executive order in the workplace. Gabrielle Robinson addresses the employment discrimination of African Americans in the book, The Better Homes of South Bend. “Yet they had not found the equal treatment in the North for which they had hoped. Many factories in South Bend did not hire African Americans.”[5] The Studebaker plant was the biggest employer of African Americans in South Bend.
After World War II, housing discrimination intensified. White families moved to the suburbs and the west side of South Bend by the factories became almost exclusively African American. Better Homes of South Bend members lived primarily on Prairie Avenue, defined as “slum” in the Fact Sheet on Housing in 1952.[6] "This white flight took with it private and public investment in housing, schools, roads and infrastructure, leaving a deteriorating center to the poor."[7] This deterioration of infrastructure drove Better Homes for South Bend members to secure land to buildhousing in a less developed part of the city. The corporation settled on the 1700-1800 block on North Elmer Street as their housing destination, where a handful of white families currently resided. The collective power of the corporation enabled the members to secure land, loans, and contractors for 22 houses.[8] After extensive discrimination and hardship, the group was able to secure a contractor, Max Meyer, at a reasonable price. Three years after Better Homes of South Bend was created, the members finally had houses built and ready to occupyon North Elmer Street. The discrimination that Better Homes of South Bend members faced was notisolated to South Bend. Housing discrimination against African Americans occurred in Indianapolis as well. An article in the 1944 Indianapolis Recorder discusses the utter lack of acceptable housing for African American workers in the city.[9] Many of these workers migrated to Indianapolis as part of The Great Migration. From 1916 to 1970, over six million African Americans migrated from the South to cities in the North, including Indianapolis and South Bend. The first wave occurred prior to World War I and the second wave prior to World War II. “African Americans sought an alternative to sharecropping, disenfranchisement, and racial injustice in the South.”[10]
Before the Better Homes of South Bend formed in 1950, Congress passed the Housing Act of 1949. “In passing the Housing Act of 1949, Congress defined the policy of the United States to include the requirements of a decent home and a suitable living environment for every American family.”[11] However, this Act did not change the living situation for Better Homes of South Bend members; they fought and improved their situation themselves. For instance, in order to build homes for black members, a competent contractor was needed, one that would use the same quality of material that was used to build white homes. Margaret Cobb stated “the contractors they met with ‘only wanted to give us substandard materials’ to build their homes because members were black.”[12] Fortunately, Better Homes for South Bend were able to hire contractors who were willing to build homes with high-quality materials regardless of the race of the occupants-to-be. Many of those 22 homes still stand today on North Elmer Street, a testament to one group’s efforts to fight racial discrimination.[13]
[1] Gabrielle Robinson, Better Homes of South Bend (Charleston: The History Press, 2015), 26.
[2] Ibid, 14.
[3] Reverend B.F. Gordon, The Negro in South Bend (South Bend: 1922), 2.
[4] Executive Order 8802 dated June 25, 1941, General Records of the United States Government; Record Group 11; National Archives.
[5] Gabrielle Robinson, Better Homes of South Bend (Charleston: The History Press, 2015), 14.
[6] “Fact sheet on housing, South Bend, circa 1952” (South Bend, 1952), 1.
[7] Gabrielle Robinson, Better Homes of South Bend (Charleston: The History Press, 2015), 48.
[8] Better Homes for South Bend Historical Marker. Indiana Historical Bureau, 2017. Accessed January 14, 2020.
[9] “Local Housing Evils Cited to FHA Officers,” Indianapolis Recorder 48, 20 (1944): 2, accessed April 5, 2019.
[10] Joe William Trotter, "The Great Migration," OAH Magazine of History 17, no. 1 (2002): 31.
[11] “Discrimination Against Minorities In The Federal Housing Programs,” Indiana Law Journal 31, 4 (1956): 501, accessed April 5, 2019,
[12] Annette Scherber, “‘Better Homes Wants to Have a Fair Shake’: Fighting Housing Discrimination in Postwar South Bend” Indiana History Blog. Accessed January 7, 2020.
[13] Better Homes for South Bend Historical Marker. Indiana Historical Bureau, 2017. Accessed January 14, 2020.