Official Black History Month Thread (2015)

J-Nice

A genius is the one most like himself
Supporter
Joined
Aug 5, 2013
Messages
3,630
Reputation
3,150
Daps
12,233
I'll start it off with someone alot of people don't know about in A.G Gaston. Happy Black History Month

gaston_custom-05708efafd46f7c849a2d1cd39517337b1558d54-s6-c30.jpg


9780345453488_p0_v1_s260x420.jpg


By the 1960s, Arthur G. Gaston was probably the richest black man in America. He was the leading employer of blacks in Alabama and directly and indirectly gave substantial aid and comfort to the civil rights movement. In the decade after the Montgomery bus boycott, Martin Luther King Jr. and his allies used the A. G. Gaston Motel in Birmingham, Alabama, as a safe refuge to plan their activities. When Eugene “Bull” Connor, the notorious commissioner of public safety, had King arrested in 1963, Gaston put up the $160,000 bail money from his own pocket.

Despite these contributions, Gaston’s name does not appear in three main survey texts of black history: Darlene Clark Hines’s The African-American Odyssey (Upper Saddle River, N. J.: Prentice Hall, 2005); Joe William Trotter Jr.’s The African-American Experience (New York: Houghton-Mifflin, 2000); and John Hope Franklin’s From Slavery to Freedom: A History of African Americans (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1994). All three compound their neglect by failing to mention other leading black entrepreneurs, such as the remarkable S. B. Fuller, Gaston’s main business rival during the 1950s and 1960s.

In writing Black Titan, a full-length biography, Carol Jenkins (Gaston’s niece) and Elizabeth Gardner Hines (his grandniece) have taken an important step toward making up for these omissions. Moreover, they show how Gaston was both a product of and a direct participant in a long tradition of black engagement in business, self-help, and mutual aid.

Born in 1893, Gaston grew up in poverty in the small town of Demopolis, Alabama. He was the son of a manual railroad worker and a cook for a prominent white family. When he was a teenager, the entire family moved to the booming industrial city of Birmingham, Alabama. His mother went to work for A. B. Loveman, a wealthy Jewish department store owner.

As is true for most entrepreneurs, Gaston’s rise up the economic ladder can be traced to a combination of luck and pluck. The connection to the Loveman family nurtured a favorable environment for a future business career. Loveman stood out as a model of how to prosper through long hours of hard work and careful attention to investments. The philanthropies of his wife, Minnie Loveman, were instrumental in Gaston’s decision to enroll as a student at the Tuggle Institute.

The institute’s organizational founder and chief sponsor was the Order of Calanthe, the women’s auxiliary of the Colored Knights of Pythias. Among black fraternal societies, the Knights represented a major force for mutual aid and social mobilization in the decades after the Civil War. The Tuggle Institute closely followed Booker T. Washington’s teaching methods of “industrial education” in the skilled trades and business. The Wizard of Tuskegee often visited the campus to deliver speeches of encouragement. From then on, Gaston was an enthusiastic disciple. Washington’s autobiography Up from Slavery was the first book he owned. Gaston’s favorite passage stated that “[e]very persecuted individual and race should get much consolation out of the great human law, which is universal and eternal, that merit, no matter under what skin found, is in the long run recognized and rewarded.... [T]he Negro ... should make himself, through skill, intelligence, and character, of such undeniable value to the community in which he lived that the community could not dispense with his presence” (qtd. on p. 41).

Although A. B. Loveman’s example and the education received at the Tuggle Institute helped to propel Gaston forward, it took many years for him to make significant headway. He fortunately took note of the trials and errors of earlier black businessmen in Birmingham, such as the bankers Charles M. “Boss” Harris and William Pettiford.

After serving in World War I, Gaston drove a delivery truck for a white-owned dry-cleaning company and, at perhaps the lowest point of his life, toiled as a coal miner. He was always alert to any opportunity to better his condition, though, no matter how modest. He tried out an idea to turn a profit by selling boxed lunches prepared by his mother to his fellow miners. It was such a success that he started to sell popcorn and peanuts on the side. Gaston saved an amazing two-thirds of his combined income at this time. Once he had enough money in hand, he took on the informal role of banker, extending loans at 25 percent interest to his coworkers.

Soon Gaston quit mining to set up the Booker T. Washington Burial Society, originally modeled after a fraternal order. It prospered in great part because of his carefully crafted alliance with black ministers who steered business to it from their congregations. He attracted still more customers by sponsoring gospel singers as well as Alabama’s “first regular Negro radio program” (p. 99).

Gaston was a pioneer among black entrepreneurs in the aggressive use of vertical integration. He began with insurance but moved on to control other parts of the process, such as undertaking and casket manufacturing. He also purchased a cemetery. “As Carnegie was to steel,” Jenkins and Hines perceptively observe, “Gaston was to dying” (p. 156).

Over time, Gaston branched out into other ventures, including the Booker T. Washington Business College; the Brown Belle Bottling Company (his only significant failure); the Citizens Federal Savings and Loan Association, one of the leading black-owned banks in the United States; and the A. G. Gaston Motel in Birmingham. The motel, which opened in 1954, featured performances by such entertainers as Stevie Wonder and Little Richard, and the guest list included Colin Powell.

Throughout his life, Gaston persistently but quietly and discreetly promoted voting rights and equal treatment for blacks. As early as the 1920s, he was urging his customers not only to save their money, but to register. Many whites did not appreciate this activity. “We were constantly plagued with traffic citations,” Gaston recalled. “We couldn’t park cars or hearses in front of our building. Our employees could not drive to make a bank deposit without getting a ticket on some pretext” (p. 112). Thirty years later, Autherine Lucy rode to campus in Gaston’s car in 1956 when she registered as the first black student at the University of Alabama, and he gave her financial aid. In the late 1950s and early 1960s, such key civil rights leaders as Fred Shuttlesworth, King, and Ralph Abernathy rented the Gaston Motel’s best suite at reduced rates for use as a “war room” (p. 195) to plan civil rights actions. In retaliation, someone planted a bomb that blew off the motel’s facade in 1963.

Gaston’s wealth and cordial ties with the white elite gave him a certain amount of clout that others did not have. His favorite methods were quiet negotiation, deal making, and, if necessary, private threats. He was often effective. For example, the “White’s Only” signs on the drinking fountains of the First National Bank came down after Gaston threatened to pull his account. Many have forgotten the extent to which blacks were exerting economic pressure successfully to bring integration in the decade before the Civil Rights Act of 1964.

Like his mentor Washington, however, Gaston always put greater stress on long-term economic improvement than on short-term civil rights struggles. More than once, this approach put him at odds with men such as Fred Shuttlesworth and King, who wanted to push faster and to deemphasize quiet compromise. Events such as the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing and Bull Connor’s decision to sic the dogs on protestors prompted Gaston at times to take action faster than he would have liked. More than a few resented his display of wealth, which included a palatial home. In 1972, Gaston reportedly lamented that the “only thing the black people had against me was I was a success” (p. 252).

During the 1960s, Gaston was a voice in the wilderness as an apostle of the need for blacks to accumulate “Green Power” by going into business. Only in the last few years before his death at age 103 in 1996 was he able to witness the first glimmerings of a reawakened interest in the importance of business enterprise.

Black Titan is a well-written and balanced study of one of the leading black entrepreneurs of the twentieth century. Jenkins and Hines put Gaston into the broader context of black history and give proper due to the influence of Booker T. Washington and the enabling role of mutual-aid networks. Although the authors are Gaston’s relatives, they never lose their scholarly detachment. The book features a nuanced and enlightening discussion of Gaston’s complex relationship with the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s. For example, the authors note that although the more radical Shuttlesworth and the more conservative Gaston often tangled, they also knew how to team up through a “good cop—bad cop” (p. 185) approach to achieve common objectives. None other than Ralph Abernathy, the future president of Southern Christian Leadership Conference, later characterized Gaston as “very sympathetic to our cause and very generous with his financial support” (p. 196).

Jenkins and Hines are on shakier ground, however, in some broad generalizations about U.S. economic history. For example, they dismiss as a “trap” (p. 68) the company town of Westfield, Alabama, where Gaston was a miner, because workers there paid excessive prices and rents and were condemned to perpetual debt. But they never give a source to back up this claim. They also do not consider the work of such authors as Price V. Fishback on this subject (Soft Coal, Hard Choices: The Economic Welfare of Bituminous Coal Miners, 1890–930 [New York: Oxford University Press, 1992]). Fishback found that overall prices and rents in company towns were not unusually high and that most workers did not carry burdensome long-term debt. If the company town of Westfield was an exception to this picture, the authors should have told us more about how and why.

A few errors and omissions also creep into the analysis of the Great Depression. Jenkins and Hines attribute the crisis to one of two causes: unequal distribution of wealth or uncontrolled speculation. They do not consider the influence of monetary factors or bad policies such as the tariff increases. They favorably quote Howard Zinn’s contention that companies cut wages “again, and again” (p. 103), but they do not mention the evidence showing that real wages were actually higher in 1933 than in 1929 (see Richard K. Vedder and Lowell E. Galloway, Out of Work: Unemployment and Government in Twentieth-Century America [New York: New York University Press, 1993]). Jenkins and Hines also report that the rate of starvation in New York City quadrupled in 1934 over the previous year “despite Hoover’s proclamations to the contrary” (p. 104). A key problem with this claim is that Hoover left office in March 1933.

Jenkins and Hines note that Gaston was a long-time Democrat but do not explain how this affiliation came about. They do not discuss his attitude toward the Republican Party, which as late as 1956 received the votes of Martin Luther King Jr., Ralph Abernathy, and other prominent blacks. Given Gaston’s conservative views, the question naturally arises: Why didn’t he support the party of Lincoln?

The authors might have considered more the extent to which the civil rights movement was the by-product of the economic foundation first laid by individuals such as Washington and Gaston. Sometimes the authors needlessly second-guess Gaston’s decisions. Noting that Gaston made a “significant profit” during the depression by purchasing government scrip from teachers for fifty cents on the dollar and later redeeming the scrip at face value when the crisis passed, they add: “If Gaston had reservations about the ethics of the exchange, he never mentioned them” (p. 108). Readers might ask in return: Why should Gaston have had reservations? Wasn’t he performing a service at a considerable long-term personal risk?

These criticisms, most of which relate to background issues, do not undermine the book’s considerable strengths. Jenkins and Hines are at their best when they focus on Arthur G. Gaston as a man, an entrepreneur, and a community leader. Most important, they shed more light on a subject that historians still neglect: the pioneering role that black entrepreneurs played as engineers and drivers of black economic uplift and civil rights.

http://www.npr.org/2010/12/21/132089160/a-g-gaston-from-log-cabin-to-funeral-home-mogul

http://www.independent.org/publications/tir/article.asp?a=579



Add on
 

J-Nice

A genius is the one most like himself
Supporter
Joined
Aug 5, 2013
Messages
3,630
Reputation
3,150
Daps
12,233
Chisholm.gif

Shirley Chisholm

The first African–American Congresswoman, Shirley Anita Chisholm represented a newly reapportioned U.S. House district centered in Brooklyn, New York. Elected in 1968 because of her roots in the Bedford–Stuyvesant neighborhood, Chisholm was catapulted into the national limelight by virtue of her race, gender, and outspoken personality. In 1972, in a largely symbolic undertaking, she campaigned for the Democratic presidential nomination. But "Fighting Shirley" Chisholm's frontal assault on many congressional traditions and her reputation as a crusader limited her influence as a legislator. "I am the people's politician," she once told the New York Times. "If the day should ever come when the people can't save me, I'll know I'm finished. That's when I'll go back to being a professional educator."1

Shirley Anita St. Hill was born on November 20, 1924, in Brooklyn, New York. She was the oldest of four daughters of Charles St. Hill, a factory laborer from Guyana, and Ruby Seale St. Hill, a seamstress from Barbados. For part of her childhood, Shirley St. Hill lived in Barbados on her maternal grandparents' farm, receiving a British education while her parents worked during the Great Depression to settle the family in Bedford–Stuyvesant. The most apparent manifestation of her West Indies roots was the slight, clipped British accent she retained throughout her life. She attended public schools in Brooklyn and graduated with high marks. Accepted to Vassar and Oberlin colleges, Shirley St. Hill attended Brooklyn College on scholarship and graduated cum laude with a B.A. in sociology in 1946. From 1946 to 1953, Chisholm worked as a nursery school teacher and then as the director of two daycare centers. She married Conrad Q. Chisholm, a private investigator, in 1949. Three years later, Shirley Chisholm earned an M.A. in early childhood education from Columbia University. She served as an educational consultant for New York City's Division of Day Care from 1959 to 1964. In 1964, Chisholm was elected to the New York state legislature; she was the second African–American woman to serve in Albany.

A court–ordered redistricting that carved a new Brooklyn congressional district out of Chisholm's Bedford–Stuyvesant neighborhood convinced her to run for Congress. The influential Democratic political machine, headed by Stanley Steingut, declared its intention to send an African American from the new district to the House. The endorsement of the machine usually resulted in a primary victory, which was tantamount to election in the heavily Democratic area. In the primary, Chisholm faced three African–American challengers: civil court judge Thomas R. Jones, a former district leader and New York assemblyman; Dolly Robinson, a former district co–leader; and William C. Thompson, a well–financed state senator. Chisholm roamed the new district in a sound truck that pulled up outside housing projects while she announced: "Ladies and Gentlemen … this is fighting Shirley Chisholm coming through." Chisholm capitalized on her personal campaign style. "I have a way of talking that does something to people," she noted. "I have a theory about campaigning. You have to let them feel you."2 In the primary in mid–June 1968, Chisholm defeated Thompson, her nearest competitor, by about 800 votes in an election characterized by light voter turnout.

In the general election, Chisholm faced Republican–Liberal James Farmer, one of the principal figures of the civil rights movement, a cofounder of the Congress for Racial Equality, and an organizer of the Freedom Riders in the early 1960s. The two candidates held similar positions on housing, employment, and education issues, and both opposed the Vietnam War. Farmer charged that the Democratic Party "took [blacks] for granted and thought they had us in their pockets.… We must be in a position to use our power as a swing vote."3 But the election turned on the issue of gender. Farmer hammered away, arguing that "women have been in the driver's seat" in black communities for too long and that the district needed "a man's voice in Washington," not that of a "little schoolteacher."4 Chisholm, whose campaign motto was "unbought and unbossed," met that charge head–on, using Farmer's rhetoric to highlight discrimination against women and explain her unique qualifications. "There were Negro men in office here before I came in five years ago, but they didn't deliver," Chisholm countered. "People came and asked me to do something … I'm here because of the vacuum." Chisholm portrayed Farmer as an outsider (he lived in Manhattan) and used her fluent Spanish to appeal to the growing Hispanic population in the Bedford–Stuyvesant neighborhood. (Puerto Rican immigrants accounted for about 20 percent of the district vote.) The deciding factor, however, was the district's overwhelming liberal tilt: More than 80 percent of the voters were registered Democrats. Chisholm won the general election by a resounding 67 percent of the vote.5

Chisholm's freshman class included two African Americans of future prominence: Louis Stokes of Ohio and William L. (Bill) Clay, Sr., of Missouri—and boosted the number of African Americans in the House from six to nine, the largest total up to that time.6 Chisholm was the only new woman to enter Congress in 1969.

Chisholm's welcome in the House was not warm, due to her immediate outspokenness. "I have no intention of just sitting quietly and observing," she said. "I intend to focus attention on the nation's problems." She did just that, lashing out against the Vietnam War in her first floor speech on March 26, 1969. Chisholm vowed to vote against any defense appropriation bill "until the time comes when our values and priorities have been turned right–side up again."7 She was assigned to the Committee on Agriculture, a decision she appealed directly to House Speaker John McCormack of Massachusetts (bypassing Ways and Means Committee Chairman Wilbur Mills of Arkansas, who oversaw Democratic committee appointments). McCormack told her to be a "good soldier," at which point Chisholm brought her complaint to the House Floor. She was reassigned to the Veterans' Affairs Committee which, though not one of her top choices, was more relevant to her district's makeup. "There are a lot more veterans in my district than trees," she quipped.8 From 1971 to 1977 she served on the Committee on Education and Labor, having won a place on that panel with the help of Hale Boggs of Louisiana, whom she had endorsed as Majority Leader.9 She also served on the Committee on Organization Study and Review (known as the Hansen Committee), whose recommended reforms for the selection of committee chairmen were adopted by the Democratic Caucus in 1971. From 1977 to 1981, Chisholm served as Secretary of the Democratic Caucus. She eventually left her Education Committee assignment to accept a seat on the Rules Committee in 1977, becoming the first black woman—and the second woman ever—to serve on that powerful panel. Chisholm also was a founding member of the Congressional Black Caucus (CBC) in 1971 and the Congressional Women's Caucus in 1977.

Chisholm continued to work for the causes she had espoused as a community activist. She sponsored increases in federal funding to extend the hours of daycare facilities and a guaranteed minimum annual income for families. She was a fierce defender of federal assistance for education, serving as a primary backer of a national school lunch bill and leading her colleagues in overriding President Gerald R. Ford's veto on this measure. However, Chisholm did not view herself as a "lawmaker, an innovator in the field of legislation"; in her efforts to address the needs of the "have–nots," she often chose to work outside the established system. At times she criticized the Democratic leadership in Congress as much as she did the Republicans in the White House. She was an explorer and a trailblazer rather than a legislative artisan.10

True to this approach, Chisholm declared her candidacy for the 1972 Democratic nomination for President, charging that none of the other candidates represented the interests of blacks and the inner–city poor. She campaigned across the country and succeeded in getting her name on 12 primary ballots, becoming as well known outside her Brooklyn neighborhood as she was in it. At the Democratic National Convention she received 152 delegate votes, or 10 percent of the total, a respectable showing given her modest funding. A 1974 Gallup Poll listed her as one of the top 10 most–admired women in America—ahead of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis and Coretta Scott King and tied with Indian Prime Minister Indira Gandhi for sixth place.11 But while the presidential bid enhanced Chisholm's national profile, it also stirred controversy among her House colleagues. Chisholm's candidacy split the CBC. Many black male colleagues felt she had not consulted them or that she had betrayed the group's interests by trying to create a coalition of women, Hispanics, white liberals, and welfare recipients.12 Pervasive gender discrimination, Chisholm noted, cut across racial lines: "Black male politicians are no different from white male politicians. This ‘woman thing' is so deep. I've found it out in this campaign if I never knew it before."13 Her presidential campaign also strained relations with other women Members of Congress, particularly Bella Abzug of New York, who endorsed George McGovern instead of Chisholm.

By 1976, Chisholm faced a stiff challenge from within her own party primary by a longtime political rival, New York City Councilman Samuel D. Wright. Born and raised in Bedford–Stuyvesant, Wright was a formidable opponent who had represented Brooklyn in the New York assembly for a number of years before winning a seat on the city council. He criticized Chisholm for her absenteeism in the House, brought on by the rigors of her presidential campaign, and for a lack of connection with the district. Chisholm countered by playing on her national credentials and her role as a reformer of Capitol Hill culture. "I think my role is to break new ground in Congress," Chisholm noted. She insisted that her strength was in bringing legislative factions together. "I can talk with legislators from the South, the West, all over. They view me as a national figure and that makes me more acceptable."14 Two weeks later Chisholm turned back Wright and Hispanic political activist Luz Vega in the Democratic primary, winning 54 percent of the vote to Wright's 36 percent and Vega's 10 percent.15 She won the general election handily with 83 percent of the vote.16

From the late 1970s onward, Brooklyn Democrats speculated that Chisholm was losing interest in her House seat. Her name was widely floated as a possible candidate for several jobs related to education, including president of the City College of New York and chancellor of the New York City public school system.17 In 1982, Chisholm declined to seek re–election. "Shirley Chisholm would like to have a little life of her own," she told the Christian Science Monitor, citing personal reasons for her decision to leave the House; she wanted to spend more time with her second husband, Arthur Hardwick, Jr., a New York state legislator she had married about six months after divorcing Conrad Chisholm in 1977.18

Other reasons, too, factored into Chisholm's decision to leave the House. She had grown disillusioned over the conservative turn the country had taken with the election of President Ronald W. Reagan in 1980. Also, there were tensions with people on her side of the political fence, particularly African–American politicians who, she insisted, misunderstood her efforts to build alliances. While her rhetoric about racial inequality could be passionate at times, Chisholm's actions toward the white establishment in Congress were often conciliatory. Chisholm maintained that many members of the black community did not understand the need for negotiation with white politicians. "We still have to engage in compromise, the highest of all arts," Chisholm noted. "Blacks can't do things on their own, nor can whites. When you have black racists and white racists it is very difficult to build bridges between communities."19

After leaving Congress in January 1983, Chisholm helped cofound the National Political Congress of Black Women and campaigned for Jesse Jackson's presidential bids in 1984 and 1988. She also taught at Mt. Holyoke College in 1983. Though nominated as U.S. Ambassador to Jamaica by President William J. Clinton, Chisholm declined due to ill health. She settled in Palm Coast, Florida, where she wrote and lectured, and died on January 1, 2005, in Ormond Beach, Florida.
 

↓R↑LYB

I trained Sheng Long and Shonuff
Joined
May 2, 2012
Messages
44,204
Reputation
13,693
Daps
171,031
Reppin
Pawgistan
Carter G. Woodson

Woodson_Carter_G.jpg


The Father of Black History Month, Carter G. Woodson, was born in1875 near New Canton VA. He was the son of former slaves. In 1907, he obtained his B.A. degree from the University of Chicago. In 1912, he received his Ph.D. from Harvard University.

In 1915, he and friends established the Association for the Study of Negro Life and History. A year later, the Journal of Negro History, began quarterly publication. In 1926, Woodson proposed and launched the annual February observance of Negro History Week, which became Black History Month in 1976. It is said that he chose February for the observance because February 12th was Abraham Lincoln’s birthday and February 14th was the accepted birthday of Frederick Douglass.

Dr. Woodson was the founder of Associated Publishers, the founder and editor of the Negro History Bulletin, and the author of more than 30 books. His best known publication is The Mis-Education of the Negro, originally published in 1933 and still pertinent today.
He died in 1950, but Dr. Woodson’s scholarly legacy goes on.

 

J-Nice

A genius is the one most like himself
Supporter
Joined
Aug 5, 2013
Messages
3,630
Reputation
3,150
Daps
12,233
FRANKLIN.JPG


Martha Minerva Franklin

Martha Minerva Franklin was one of the first to seek changes in the unequal and discriminatory realities of African American nurses in the United States. During the post-Civil War period when African Americans began joining the working class as free citizens, Franklin was dedicated to challenging a prejudiced society. Though very pale-skinned and often mistaken as white, Franklin identified strongly with her African American roots and worked alongside other African American nurses, hoping that they would be granted the support and equitable rights they deserved as medical professionals.

Born in New Milford, Conn., in 1870, Franklin was the middle child of Henry J. and Mary E. Gauson Franklin. She grew up in Meriden where she graduated from Meriden Public High School in 1890 as the only African American member of her class. Five years later she entered the Women’s Hospital Training School for Nurses in Philadelphia. Though the Philadelphia school was more racially inclusive than nurse training schools in New England, Franklin was once again the only African American graduate in the class of 1897. After graduation she returned to Connecticut where she worked as a private nurse in patients’ homes. Because she was isolated from other nurses at this point in her career, it was not until she moved to New Haven in the early 1900s that Franklin began to see the extent of the discrimination faced by her African American colleagues. Perhaps moved by the social-political activist groups forming in the New Haven area, Franklin began to explore ways to improve the working conditions for African American nurses.

In 1906 she sent out more than 500 notes to nurses, superintendents of nursing schools, and nursing organizations in order to gain a wider perspective on the outlook for African Americans in the field of nursing. After two years of research, Franklin determined that, while African American nurses were permitted to join the American Nurses Association (ANA), they were not admitted as equal members and could not work together within the organization to address concerns of segregation and discrimination. In 1908, she sent out 1500 handwritten letters inviting nurses to meet in order to organize a national association for “colored” nurses with the goal of collectively working to eliminate racial discrimination in the profession. The first meeting was held in New York City later that year and was attended by fifty-two African American nurses.

The National Association for Colored Graduate Nurses (NACGN) was founded at the 1908 meeting, and Martha Minerva Franklin became its first president. The organization’s goals were three-fold: first, to improve professional standards within the profession; second, to eliminate racial discrimination in the field; and third, to develop leadership among African American nurses. The organization grew and became more formal as more nurses joined and as African American doctors from the American Medical Association also joined the effort. By 1921, the NACGN numbered 2,000 members and an NACGN delegation was even received at the White House by President Warren G. Harding.

In 1928, Franklin moved to New York City where she enrolled in a graduate program at the Lincoln Hospital. Upon completion of the program she became a Registered Nurse and began to work in the New York City school system. She also continued her education and pursued a degree in Public Health Nursing at the Columbia University Teacher’s College, though she retired before completing all of the courses for the degree. Upon her retirement, Franklin returned to New Haven to live with her older sister.

Martha Minerva Franklin died in Meriden in 1968 at the age of 98 and is buried in the Walnut Grove Cemetery in Meriden. A pioneer in her field and an inspiration to many young African American nurses, she lived to see many of the NACGN’s goals accomplished and, in 1951, the organization merged with the ANA. In 1976, she was inducted into the ANA Hall of Fame. Her gravesite is a stop on the Connecticut Freedom Trail.

http://www.cwhf.org/inductees/science-health/martha-minerva-franklin
 

J-Nice

A genius is the one most like himself
Supporter
Joined
Aug 5, 2013
Messages
3,630
Reputation
3,150
Daps
12,233
Corbis-SF7561.jpg


Arturo Schomburg

Arturo Alfonso Schomburg, writer, activist, collector, and important figure of the Harlem Renaissance was born in Saturce, Puerto Rico. His mother, a black woman, was originally from St. Croix, Danish Virgin Islands (now the U.S. Virgin Islands), and his father was a Puerto Rican of German ancestry. Schomburg migrated to New York City, New York in 1891. Very active in the liberation movements of Puerto Rico and Cuba, he founded Las dos Antillas, a cultural and political group that worked for the islands’ independence. After the collapse of the Cuban revolutionary struggle, and the cession of Puerto-Rico to the U.S., Schomburg, disillusioned, turned his attention to the African American community. In 1911, as its Master, he renamed El Sol de Cuba #38, a lodge of Cuban and Puerto Rican immigrants, as Prince Hall Lodge in honor of the first black freemason in the country. The same year, he also founded the Negro Society for Historical Research. In 1922 he was elected president of the American Negro Academy.

Schomburg was an avid collector of materials on Africa and its Diaspora, amassing over 10,000 documents. In 1926 his personal collection was added to the Division of Negro Literature, History and Prints of the Harlem branch of The New York Public Library and he served as curator from 1932 until his death. Today, the Schomburg Center for Research in Black Culture of The New York Public Library is one of the foremost research centers on Africa and the Diaspora, with more than 10 million items.
 

J-Nice

A genius is the one most like himself
Supporter
Joined
Aug 5, 2013
Messages
3,630
Reputation
3,150
Daps
12,233
paul_robeson.jpg


Paul Robeson

Paul Robeson was a famous African-American athlete, singer, actor, and advocate for the civil rights of people around the world. He rose to prominence in a time when segregation was legal in the United States, and Black people were being lynched by racist mobs, especially in the South.
Born on April 9, 1898 in Princeton, New Jersey, Paul Robeson was the youngest of five children. His father was a runaway slave who went on to graduate from Lincoln University, and his mother came from an abolitionist Quaker family. Robeson's family knew both hardship and the determination to rise above it. His own life was no less challenging.

In 1915, Paul Robeson won a four-year academic scholarship to Rutgers University. Despite violence and racism from teammates, he won 15 varsity letters in sports (baseball, basketball, track) and was twice named to the All-American Football Team. He received the Phi Beta Kappa key in his junior year, belonged to the Cap & Skull Honor Society, and graduated as Valedictorian. However, it wasn't until 1995, 19 years after his death, that Paul Robeson was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame.

At Columbia Law School (1919-1923), Robeson met and married Eslanda Cordoza Goode, who was to become the first Black woman to head a pathology laboratory. He took a job with a law firm, but left when a white secretary refused to take dictation from him. He left the practice of law to use his artistic talents in theater and music to promote African and African-American history and culture.

In London, Robeson earned international acclaim for his lead role in Othello, for which he won the Donaldson Award for Best Acting Performance (1944), and performed in Eugene O'Neill's Emperor Jones and All God's Chillun Got Wings. He is known for changing the lines of the Showboat song "Old Man River" from the meek "...I'm tired of livin' and 'feared of dyin'....," to a declaration of resistance, "... I must keep fightin' until I'm dying....". His 11 films included Body and Soul (1924), Jericho (1937), and Proud Valley (1939). Robeson's travels taught him that racism was not as virulent in Europe as in the U.S. At home, it was difficult to find restaurants that would serve him, theaters in New York would only seat Blacks in the upper balconies, and his performances were often surrounded with threats or outright harassment. In London, on the other hand, Robeson's opening night performance of Emperor Jones brought the audience to its feet with cheers for twelve encores.

Paul Robeson used his deep baritone voice to promote Black spirituals, to share the cultures of other countries, and to benefit the labor and social movements of his time. He sang for peace and justice in 25 languages throughout the U.S., Europe, the Soviet Union, and Africa. Robeson became known as a citizen of the world, equally comfortable with the people of Moscow, Nairobi, and Harlem. Among his friends were future African leader Jomo Kenyatta, India's Nehru, historian Dr. W.E.B. Du Bois, anarchist Emma Goldman, and writers James Joyce and Ernest Hemingway. In 1933, Robeson donated the proceeds of All God's Chillun to Jewish refugees fleeing Hitler's Germany. At a 1937 rally for the anti-fascist forces in the Spanish Civil War, he declared, "The artist must elect to fight for Freedom or for Slavery. I have made my choice. I had no alternative." In New York in 1939, he premiered in Earl Robinson's Ballad for Americans, a cantata celebrating the multi-ethnic, multi-racial face of America. It was greeted with the largest audience response since Orson Welles' famous "War of the Worlds."

During the 1940s, Robeson continued to perform and to speak out against racism, in support of labor, and for peace. He was a champion of working people and organized labor. He spoke and performed at strike rallies, conferences, and labor festivals worldwide. As a passionate believer in international cooperation, Robeson protested the growing Cold War and worked tirelessly for friendship and respect between the U.S. and the USSR. In 1945, he headed an organization that challenged President Truman to support an anti-lynching law. In the late 1940s, when dissent was scarcely tolerated in the U.S., Robeson openly questioned why African Americans should fight in the army of a government that tolerated racism. Because of his outspokenness, he was accused by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) of being a Communist. Robeson saw this as an attack on the democratic rights of everyone who worked for international friendship and for equality. The accusation nearly ended his career. Eighty of his concerts were canceled, and in 1949 two interracial outdoor concerts in Peekskill, N.Y. were attacked by racist mobs while state police stood by. Robeson responded, "I'm going to sing wherever the people want me to sing...and I won't be frightened by crosses burning in Peekskill or anywhere else."

In 1950, the U.S. revoked Robeson's passport, leading to an eight-year battle to resecure it and to travel again. During those years, Robeson studied Chinese, met with Albert Einstein to discuss the prospects for world peace, published his autobiography, Here I Stand, and sang at Carnegie Hall. Two major labor-related events took place during this time. In 1952 and 1953, he held two concerts at Peace Arch Park on the U.S.-Canadian border, singing to 30-40,000 people in both countries. In 1957, he made a transatlantic radiophone broadcast from New York to coal miners in Wales. In 1960, Robeson made his last concert tour to New Zealand and Australia. In ill health, Paul Robeson retired from public life in 1963. He died on January 23, 1976, at age 77, in Philadelphia.
 
Top