CINCINNATI 1926

BISHOP BENJAMIN FRANKLIN LEE, my grandfather

It was a long, cold winter and the snow was trying its best to keep it that way as we entered the month of March. We were in our own house at that time at 1311 Myrtle Avenue, Walnut Hills, Cincinnati, Ohio.

I was home alone when the phone rang. At age 10 l/2 I was happy to be able to operate this new convenience. It was one of my aunt’s at my grandparent’s home at Wilberforce, about 60 miles away. I told her my mother wasn’t at home. She told me to tell my mother that my grandfather had passed away.

It was sad news, abut I knew he had been ailing because my brother, Charles, and I had spent part of the past summer at the homestead in the country. My aunts called us in from play one day to his bed side. d He said, “Boys, I won’t be here with you come next summer. I want you to be good boys and mind your parents.” We said, “Yes sir,” and went back to play. When my mother came home, I started crying as I gave her the message. My father was in the hospital at the time, and I knew how difficult it was on her. She held me for a minute and cried, too. Those were sad times, but my mother faced it head on. A day later my mother, Charles and I were on our way to People’s Corner to get the bus to Xenia. At People’s Corner we saw my school principal. I learned later that he took a walk for exercise every afternoon. My mother told me to run over and tell him that Bishop Lee passed away yesterday. I did so, but wondered why the school principal would care about my grandfather passing away.

The bus ride to Xenia was okay. It wasn’t a bus, it was a long car that seated 8 or 10 people. I suppose we took a taxi out to Wilberforce –- 4 or 5 miles away. There were several inches of snow on the ground, but the sun was shining.

When we got in the house, we first went in the study. A small room off the living room. There we viewed grandfather’s body. This wasn’t a surprise to me because I had seen that practice in Cincinnati. At home, they also placed a flowered wreathe on the front door. I suppose my brother, Charles, was with us all the time, but I don’t remember anything he did or said. A strange brother, as usual.

Aunt Sarah had bought a special corduroy suit for me, probably one for Charles, too. My cousin, Francis, Aunt Addie’s son, was there while I was trying on my new suit. I didn’t like Frances. We were together sometimes when I was visiting. He was about two years older like my brother, Charles. Unlike Charles, he was always trying to tell me what to do and I didn’t like his attitude. While I was trying on my new clothes, he decided to put my little belt on through the little loops in the pants. He pulled one loop too hard and it broke. I don’t recall if it was fixed before the funeral.

The next morning was the funeral. (to be continued)

IT TAKES TWO

The Mossell family

I love classical music. I like all music and have played and participated in practically every form. One of the popular songs of ‘50s or ‘60s is “It Takes Two.” The song says “It takes two, baby.” Earlier I wrote of visiting my mother’s cousins in Maryland. I was only 4 or 5 years at that time, and I said the visit made me realize that a family has two sides. Mother’s side and dad’s side.

At age five, when we were living in Mt. Auburn, Cincinnati, I heard my parents talking about my mother’s cousin who had just received her PH.D at the University of Pennsylvania. I understood that it was good news and it had to do with school.

Actually, this was the beginning of cousin Sadie’s illustrious career. Thanks to the 21st century, go to “Google”, Sadie Tanner Mossell Alexander – Philadelphia lawyer. Sadie’s father was Aaron Mossell, Jr., my mother’s uncle.

There were many interesting people on both sides of my family as well as Jeanne’s.

As the song says, “It takes two” to make a family and most importantly, we must focus on the present to make today’s family work. I will refer to “Google” references for my family.

Alexander, Sadie Tanner Mossell – lawyer
Alexander, Raymond Pace – lawyer
Lee, Bishop Benjamin Franklin. – Wilberforce
Lee, Dr. Benjamin Franklin – Wilberforce
Lee, Benjamin Franklin, Jr.– social worker
Lee, Effie Lee Newsom – writer
Lee, Sara O. – teacher, Wilberforce
Lee, Adilia – teacher, Wilberforce
Mossell, Aaron – father
Mossell, Aaron – lawyer, son, left country to Wales
Mossell, Dr. Charles W. – minister, writer, Haiti
Mossell, Mary E. Forrester– wife of C. W., mother’s mother
Minter, Rae Pace Alexander – college professor
Tanner, Henry O. – famous artist, France
Tanner, Bishop of A.M.E. church – father
Robinson, Dr. James H. - PhD, sociologist, Yale graduate, dean
Robinson, James H. Jr. – Detroit, Michigan
Thomas, Chaplin – U.S. army, husband of Adilia Lee
Ransome, Bishop of A.M.E. church
Robeson, Paul – famous singer, actor, activist
Steward, Theophilus Gould – A.M.E. minister, activist, Gouldtown, New Jersey
Lee, Dr. Forrester Ashe, Jr. – cardiologist, dean, Yale University
Lewis, Marian Mossell Lee – writer

MISS CURTIS (continued)

That is why she gave me a little smile when I very softly and apologetically suggested to her that my grad,e perhaps, should have been 70 and Paul 86.

I wasn’t the happy-go-lucky student. I think I was the struggling student but in spite of that, the little smile that she gave me may account for the fact that I decided to challenge her during one of her lectures on American history. I raised my hand, she hesitated, then said, “Yes, Mr. Lee.” I said, “Excuse me, Miss Curtis, but a few minutes ago you (for example) said 1756 and I think you meant 1656.” “All right, Mr. Lee, the library is just down the hall. Would you go and check that date? You are excused.” I left the room quietly as she continued her lecture. When I returned, she was still lecturing. She stopped as I quietly slipped into my seat. My friend, Paul, was holding his breath to keep from laughing. I stood up and Miss Curtis said, “Yes.” I said, “I’m sorry, Miss Curtis, you were right.” I sat down and she continued her lecture. My friend, Paul could not wait to get through the exit door to have a good belly laugh.

My actions in this class were all out of character. This class and music were the classes that my best friend, Paul, and I had together. He was having a ball. Even though I say my actions were out of character, the two of us were complete opposites. I thought Paul was brilliant. He had no social attributes. I was not brilliant, but was quite comfortable in social situations. I think Paul liked to see how I handled challenging situations. This is what happened. When he put his brilliant, scientific mind to work.

I mentioned before that the class was at 1:00 just after lunch. Miss Curtis was on one of her favorite subjects in American history. The class was very quiet. I happened to get a little drowsy. I put my elbows on the desk and propped my head up. I must have been well into my brief after dinner snooze. I figured that Paul, with his brilliant, scientific mind, went through this kind of exploratory thinking.

I have in my hand a pin. those windows to my left are direct south. The pin in my left hand is pointing south and if I slowly move my hand directly south, the equation would be: ???? and a live body is sitting directly in the path of that pin. At some moment there would be a reaction of unknown force and consequences.

At this point, I feel something piercing my right thigh and next, my chair and I landed in the aisle, my chair on top of me, my books are scattered all over, and the table was on the floor down by my feet. There is dead silence in the room. My first thought, this could be trouble.

I looked up at my friend, Paul. His face was red, either from fright or from holding his breath to keep from laughing. I put the table back in place, then the books. Finally, I put the chair back and sat down. As I looked over at Miss Curtis, she continued where she was when the interruption happened. When the period was over, I went up to Miss Curtis’s desk and said, “I’m sorry.” Miss Curtis said “That’s all right, Lee.” And that was all.

After class, my friend, Paul, was silent for awhile. Then he said, “Project complete.”

Miss Curtis? Well, I think she probably had often wondered what she would do or say if a student challenged her in class. Although it was out of character, I think she loved it. At graduation, she and her friend, Miss Punnington, stood at the auditorium door counting, 1,2,3,go, 1,2,3, go, etc. So that the grads were properly separated as they walked down the aisle. I looked up at her and she smiled.

I would love to place a red rose on her grave.

MISS CURTIS

In l935 I graduated from one of the best, if not the best, college preparatory (prep) schools in the country. It was started about 1895. A public school, grades 7 to 12, for students who were college potential.

I passed that test (somehow)in the 6^th grade and was accepted, however, my mother, being a teacher in a separate public school, (not segregated) due to its locations, was strongly urged to leave me in my present school which was kindergarten through 9^th grade. I would be admitted to the public preparatory school at grade 10. The reasoning was to prevent all of their “best” students from being drawn out of their school after grade 6. My parents reluctantly complied. My mother was employed and we were in the middle of the greatest depression the country had ever faced. Her job might have been in jeopardy.

Miss Curtis was a New Englander, about six feet tall, and had gray hair with a ball in the back. She was well beyond retirement age. I never saw her talking to any other teacher except Miss Carrington, who was not as tall as Miss Curtis and didn’t use a cane. They were both New Englanders.

I decided not to face Miss Curtis for the required American history class. I learned that Hughes High School had a summer school program that I could take American history in summer school. That meant no summer fun and I couldn’t play sports.

Hugh High School was near the University of Cincinnati. I lived near People’s Corner and the streetcar came up to People’s corner and from there, straight to the University, passing Hughes High. I didn’t have a job that summer and I would jog to and from school to keep in shape, saving about 20 cents a day. Then came the 1934 heat waves. The Times Star newspaper had a picture of a man frying an egg on top of the tallest building in downtown, Cincinnati.

After two or three weeks of the heat waves, I caved in. Which meant, fail my senior year or drop out, which really was not an option because Freshman college in my family was just like grade 13. Money or no money, it happened. I had to face Miss Curtis that fall. The class met at 1:05 immediately after lunch. I usually would take a brief nap, propping my head up with my hands and looking directly at the teacher. In that way I might catch maybe 20 seconds to 40 or 50 seconds snooze. I sat near the back on Miss Curtiss’ left. The desks were well-made with a place for books. My sophomore year was the first year at the New School, 1931. None of the furniture was fastened to the floor, probably one of the newly creative features of the new school, so the teacher could seat the students in a circle or at an angle, for any special reason. We sat in 4 or 5 double rows. I sat with my best friend, Paul Brown.

Mrs. Curtis gave us our instructions on what books would be necessary and how extensive our coverage of American history would be. Her approach was straight- forward. No smiles. No jokes.

That first marking period was rater interesting. She lectured much of the time. It was interesting and I was able to stay awake., even though we met immediately after lunch. I did get drowsy once or twice, but my propped up plan seemed to work. Paul and I stayed orderly most of the time that first marking period. One day I asked to borrow his pen. Mine had run dry. We didn’t dare try to whisper. We both were adept at spelling out words with our hands. As I pretended to look at Miss Curtis, as she lectured, my eyes would focus down at his hand as he spelled out the message. Paul was having difficulty getting my message. I really needed his pen. It was one of the older pens, the kind you fill yourself. Being a little impatient, without turning my head, I lowered my eyes a little to see the pen in his hand. I reached for it and a fingernail got stuck in the little gadget that sucks the ink in and all the ink spurted out.

One of the two girls sitting in front of us was wearing a blue and white sailor outfit with a large, white starched collar. The ink squirted out of the pen and landed on her starched collar. Miss Curtis’s lecture must have been very interesting that day. There were two or four students behind us. No one saw or heard anything, luck for us. That was the end of that.

Paul was the most brilliant person. The first marking period I got 86and Paul got 70. Speaking of Paul, he and I were close buddies from elementary school through high school and college and life except for some of the elementary grades. More on him later.

I don’t know why I did this. It was really out of character, but one day after class, I went up to Miss Curtis’s desk and said “Mrs. Curtis, my friend, Paul, has a very good record in his studies here at Walnut Hills, 85s and 90s in all of his studies. I just thought you might not know.” She gave me a slight smile, and said, “Thank you, Lee.” I nodded and thought, how nice. For the rest of the school year she gave me 70s all six or 8 marking periods. My friend, Paul, received marks in the 80s for the rest of the marking periods. I was feeling good about his grades, but thought that I might have done a little better, especially since I had informed her of a probable slight oversight of my friend Paul’s potential.

I began to study Miss Curtis’s overall method of teaching and realized how unique it was, compared to other teachers.

My “friend”, Miss Curtis, as I already described her, along with her friend, Miss Pennington, were typical examples of stern, New England stock. She was stern with her students in order to get the best out of them. She loved them. As mentioned before, every student had to pass an entrance exam to attend Walnut Hills. She was aware that every student had the mental capacity to get through successfully, some with high grades, some with average, and others by doing borderline, but passable work.

For example, once when we were visiting my son at Yale Medical School, I noticed when some of his fellow students would be chatting with us it was common to hear , “Hey, see ya. I’ve got to go do some reading.” I said to my son “About what percent of students flunk out before graduating?” He said, “When you are accepted at Yale, you graduate.”

I think Miss Curtis had a little of that attitude. When you pass the exam to enter Walnut Hills High School, you graduate.

In the test, each question was in three parts. Part I for the exceptionally bright student, part II for the average, serious student, part III for the smart, but happy-go-lucky student or struggling student who has to work hard to get a 70 grade.

I believe that within a few weeks, she practically knew where each student belonged, I, II, or III and I think for our first period, when my grade was 976 and Paul’s grade was 70, she got our names mixed up. And that’s how it happened.

CINCINNATI, OHIO

The Ohio River

After the visit to mother’s cousins in Centerville, Maryland, and the Easter egg roll at the White House in Washington, D.C., the school year had ended and my mother, Charles, and I were on the train again back to Ohio and Cincinnati.

The only thing I remember about this train trip is the huge wheels on the engine as it entered the station and the great puffs of steam and the loud noise it made as it thundered past us. We were standing there right near the tracks. My father met us in Cincinnati. I probably slept most of the trip and my brother, Charles, teased me about missing the famous Horse Shoe Bend in Pittsburg, Pennsylvania.

Cincinnati is a beautiful city across the Ohio River from Kentucky and not too far from the Indiana state line.

Just for fun I asked a friend this question, “If you fly to Cincinnati, what state are you in when you arrive?” If their answer is Ohio, you say, “Wrong, Kentucky.” Downtown Cincinnati is on the Ohio River. The Cincinnati airport is across the river in Covington, Kentucky.

My father had a Masters degree in social services from Indiana University. He decided to settle in Cincinnati as a social worker.

To try to bring out the essence of my life from 2^nd grade through 12 years old would only connect the dots of school life year after year. There was life after school, family life, social life, mental and physical changes, risks taken or avoided, fun times, happy times, and sad times. I will just record interesting and relevant things of interest and connect them with my age or grade, or place.

Cincinnati, Ohio, is a most interesting city, just across the river from Kentucky, a former slave state. At age 6, I was not aware or interested in that aspect of my beginnings there. I was fascinated with the great hills and valleys, the large zoo with lions, tigers, elephants, zebras, birds and more. My brother, Mossell, would take me to see the ice-skating dancers with music by the Cincinnati Symphony Orchestra.

Most of the suburban communities are on hills, Walnut Hills, Price Hill, College Hill, and others. There were cable cars. Big cables moved the cars. The line was called the Zoo-Eden. At the top of the big hill was Eden Park, and at the end of the line was the zoo. Of course, I was too young to be aware of all of these interesting things at age six, until later.

Our first night or maybe the first few days in the city were in downtown in a room or small apartment. I remember a big goose would chase me every time I would go out the back door. It never did catch me. We settled in a house at l974 North Main Street in Mount Auburn. Our street ended at the top of what was called “The City Steps.” From the cement steps leading down to Maine Street in downtown Cincinnati, I could see the whole downtown from there. There were several hundred steps. I don’t remember going all the way down or coming up.

There were other ways – thank goodness.

Here are a few unconnected things I remember. I think my mother convinced the school that because of my experience in Washington the year before, a daily visitor with the first grade class, I could manage in the second grade in spite of my age. In the playground, my buddy Louis somehow had learned the phrase “holy ghost” fixed in his mind. The two of us with our arms locked round each of our shoulders, were skipping around the outer area of the playground, shouting the words “holy ghost.” It was fun. When I got home, I told my mother about the fun. I don’t remember exactly what my father said, But I got the message.

Times must have been hard then, one day, my friend Louis had two slices of white bread for his lunch pressed together with nothing in between. Not funny.

My buddy, Clinton, and I would go near Jackson Hill and pick dandelion greens and sell them in the neighborhood for ten cents a bushel. We would each have five cents and buy a large chocolate candy bar.

We were out playing about a block from the house and I happened to feel a bump on my lower jaw. I told my brother, Charles, I doubt if he was playing with my group because he was two years older, but he took me by the hand and rushed me back to the house. My father took a look and said “Oh, that’s just a wisdom tooth coming in.”

My brother, Frank, was about twelve or thirteen at that time, and living with my grandparents at Wilberforce. He was probably visiting us at the time. He was in the kitchen heating a kettle of water, being a teenager. he somehow swung the kettle around and some of the scalding water landed on my left arm. I remember things at age three, but I don’t remember that painful experience, but I carried the burn marks for many years.

I had my tonsils and adenoids removed that year at Christ Hospital. (My wife was born in that hospital) that same year, June 16, 1921. All I remember is the awful buzzing sound during the recovery from the ether they gave me

Mr. and Mrs. Frey lived a few doors away from us and their daughter at age eighteen, married a young man, Doy Robins. About the same time we were leaving Mt. Auburn to live in Walnut Hills. We bought a house there at 1311 Myrtle Avenue and the newlyweds rented our 2^nd floor.

THE INVITATION FROM THE PRESIDENT

That spring, the president invited Charles and me to the White House. I knew he was an important man because I heard his name a lot, especially at dinner time. I even knew his first name was President. I hoped his children were my age. I had fun with children at school – but not too much. I didn’t play with my brother Charles much. He was older.

I was a little excited when the day finally arrived. We were dressed in our Sunday clothes and were on our way to the White House. I noticed that many, many other children had been invited to the White House that day. We were at the annual White House Easter egg hunt on the Monday after Easter. Frankly, I don’t remember running around on the grass searching for eggs. If I did and my mother told my brother Charles to look out for me, perhaps that is why I got lost in the shuffle. Charles, of course, is the brother who liked to travel alone and often got in trouble. Being lost at an Easter egg hunt as large as that one was probably not uncommon, but having a small zoo on the grounds, including caged lion, was a little much.

A strange lady was comforting to me and took me by the hand and said, “They have a nice place for lost children in a little room behind the lion’s den. To top that off, I was the only lost child there and the nice lady taking care of me said, “If your mother doesn’t come, I will take you home with me.” The outcome of the experience embraces the saying, “All’s well that ends well.” Was I crying? Probably.

THE 1920S

D.C. 1921

It was in the early l920s. My father had returned from the war and had accepted a position with the YMCA in Cincinnati, Ohio, about 60 miles south of Xenia. My mother, who grew up in the east, had accepted a teaching position in Washington, so Charles and I (4 and 6) went with my mother and Mossell and Frank went to my Grandfather at Wilberforce. The University also had an elementary school through l2th grade.

I was only about 4 l/2 and some things stayed in my mind all these years. Charles and I went to the school with my mother, but since there was no pre-school, I had the distinction of being what might be called an ex-officio student visitor everyday with mother and no official title.

I never forgot the enthusiastic singing of the children. My favorite song was Finicule - Finicula. (A spelling questionable.) Harken, Harken, music sounds afar (twice)
Finiculi, Finicula, Finicula, Finiculaaaa (twice)

Joy is everywhere, Finiculi, Finicula. (I think I remember the words from a later date.) I just enjoyed hearing them sing that song. Did I sing with them? Frankly, I don’t remember. ha

The Visitor

We had a heavy snow in D.C. that winter, and the next day the sun was shining and the snow seemed to be about waist high. There was a wide path made from the house we lived in and the house next door -- some distance away. That day from the big window in the dining room, I saw a man approaching the house. He was well-dressed, wearing a beautiful black coat and a fine hat and was carrying something in his hand. I was interested because he seemed to be so happy and the path btween the two houses was so clean cut it was very impressive even to me at age about 4 l/2. The family seemed happy to see him. He was very happy to be there. Of course, it was the minister paying a Sunday afternoon visit -- probably just about dinner time. ha.

But Oh! How could I forget our trip to Centerville, Maryland to visit mother’s cousins.

THE MOSSELLS

My mother was a Mossell from a distinguished Philadelphia family. In fact, one of my brothers was named after the family, Nathan Francis Mossell Lee and we called him Moss for short just like Dad called me Bill -- short for Forrester Ashe Lee. ha

I didn’t know families had two sides.

Little did I know that at that time to my grandmother (mother’s mother) was Mary E. Forrester, a woman of note, who married my great uncle, Rev. C. W. Mossell. Mother’s cousins were Mossells.

Enough of that, that, at 4 l/2 I couldn’t have cared less. I remember that their house was at the top of a hill across from a school. They both were teachers and had fair skin like mother. They liked me and gave me a drum and drumsticks to play with that was more important to me than my relationship to these nice people. My brother, Charles, was probably with us, but I don’t remember. He was always a missing person, anyway.

About the drum. I am sure that by the end of the day, they had enough of me and the drum. My mother insisted that I leave the drum there for the next little drummer boy. ha

PRE-SCHOOL DAYS -- XENIA, OHIO

World War I was winding down, my father was in France and mother was home with us four boys. One of the things that stands out in my mind is a delivery of chickens from my grandfather.

My grandfather was a very esteemed, retired bishop of the AME Church and the second president of Wilberforce, University, 5 miles north of Xenia, Ohio. He had a modest home of several acres with a barn, a chicken coup, a horse (George), a small orchard, and a number of chickens. This was sort of a family homestead, fairly large with an outhouse and indoor plumbing.

Grandfather had a close connection with the seminary which was just off the main campus of Wilberforce University, and a stones throw from the homestead. There was always a seminary student working at the house. It was not unusual for a young student on horseback to deliver something to our house. Perhaps clothes for the boys, or food for the table, or whatever they thought boys 3, 5, 7, and 9 might need. This time I heard the word chickens, and I was jumping for joy. I loved chickens, but when I saw a man on a horse passing a large sack through the living room bay window, I knew it couldn’t’ be a chicken dinner – not realizing that it was many chicken dinners.

My mother was out at the time and wasn’t there, but when my mother returned, I probably had lost interest. One of my brothers, probably Charles, opened the large sack and when my mother came home, a large chicken had taken over the living room and the dining room – 2 on the piano and the others running circles around the kitchen table. Frank and Mossell both said they didn’t know who opened the bag, and Charles, as usual, was no where to be found. ha ha.

TIMEOUT FOR MORE CHICKEN A FEW YEARS LATER.

Speaking of chickens, a few years later, in Cincinnati, Ohio, when I came home from school, my mother was sitting on some steps leading upstairs and sobbing her heart out. Times were very tough for us, my father had been in and out of the hospital and we were heading toward the great depression, and mother was not teaching at that time. I felt bad for her. I went over to try to comfort her. It was a stupid question, but I said, “What’s the matter mother?” She had a book in her lap and said as the tears flowed, “This is the funniest story I’ve ever read. It’s called Chicken every Sunday.

I had to get that in.

GRANDFATHER'S HOMESTEAD -- Bishop Lee

My grandfather -- the retired AME Bishop -- whose home was a modest country house with enough space to accommodate visiting family and friends from time to time. He had enough land for a few fruit trees, including an apple orchard, a barn, one horse (George) and a chicken coop. There also was an out house that could accommodate two for convenience, the inside plumbing of the early l920s was not always reliable. Over all the place was comfortable for the average country family, but was by no means a farm house per se.

The Wilberforce University campus was nearby and Lane Seminary where AME religious students studied was just up the road from the house. There were always seminary students working at the house and it was not unusual for grandfather to have one of the young men deliver a message or food to our house in nearby Xenia, Ohio. Hence, the delivery. I’m sure my father was in France at this time, World War II.

The delivery was after dark and it was raining, so the young man and the horse pulled up to the front room bay window and knocked.

to be continued