Struck Down, but Not Destroyed: Journeys Through Challenges of Faith and Doubt

By Melvin J. McCaster

This autobiography Struck Down, but Not Destroyed is a vintage narrative of a struggling African American man who is committed to make something out of himself -- without blaming America for his problems along the way. This is a story of a hard working, courageous man of faith who persisted, at times against great odds, to affirm that even life in the rural South or the Northern ghetto can have integrity.

This is an unpretentious attempt to celebrate small victories for those who are often in this world considered the least of these. These many unheralded stalwarts of faith have made solid contributions; and yet have survived numerous close calls!

The sixteen chapters with helpful descriptive captions unfold in the chronological sequence of Brother McCasters life events against the background, doubts, and scares of his extended family and others associated with him.

One cannot miss Reverend McCasters uncanny and profound sense of joy as it resounds throughout this exceptional testimony about the rewards for those who persist in the faith of our humble yet most inspiring forebears.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 3, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462828388

Melvin J. McCaster

The Reverend Melvin J. McCaster is a native of Detroit, Michigan, where he attended the First Baptist Institutional Church in Detroit, Michigan, under the tutelage of his pastor, the late Reverend Howard B. M. Fauntroy, Jr. He acknowledged his call and was licensed to the Gospel ministry on August 20, 1995 at the First Baptist Institutional Church in Detroit, Michigan. He was ordained to the Gospel ministry on October 25, 1997 at the Jerusalem Baptist Church in Washington, DC. In July 1998, Reverend McCaster joined the staff at Howard University School of Divinity as an administrative assistant to the Dean. In July 1999, he accepted an invitation from Dr. Delores Carpenter to preach at the Michigan Park Christian Church in Washington, DC during her sabbatical. In 1996, Reverend McCaster received the Bachelor of Arts degree in sociology from Wayne State University in Detroit, Michigan. In September 1995, he entered the Howard University School of Divinity, and received the Master of Divinity degree in May 1998. While at the School of Divinity, he has been the recipient of several scholarships and awards, among them the Perry Smith and J. H. Jackson awards. Reverend Melvin McCaster has dedicated himself to helping people. He is a born again Christian who loves the Word of God. The Reverend Melvin J. McCaster is married to Kim McCaster of Detroit, Michigan. They have four children: Johnnie and Melvin, sons; and Alfheia and Alicia, daughters.

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Copyright © 2009 by Melvin J. McCaster.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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54735

Contents

Introduction

Acknowledgments

Chapter I

Chapter II

Chapter III

Chapter IV

Chapter V

Chapter VI

Chapter VII

Chapter VIII

Chapter IX

Chapter X

Chapter XI

Chapter XII

Chapter XIII

Chapter XIV

Chapter XV

Chapter XVI

This book is dedicated in honor of my wife, Kim, whose love continues to sustain me over the years, my mother, Mattie B. McCaster, my father, Milledge McCaster, Sr. To the memory of my brother, Milledge, Jr. To the memory of Reverend Howard B.M. Fauntroy, Jr. and in honor of his wife, Carmen. To the memory of Clara Evans. To the memory of

Dr. William I. Hightower and in honor of his wife, Margaret.

To the memory of Minister Mary E. Thomas.

We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.

(2 Corinthians 4:8-9)

The only way you can be true to liberation theology is to take on black peoples’ suffering, their pain, and their blackness. You cannot work at Wall Street and claim that you are making solidarity with the black poor.

—James H. Cone

Union Theological Seminary

Introduction

Cain Hope Felder, Ph.D.

Professor, New Testament Language and Literature

Editor, The Journal of Religious Thought

Howard University, School of Divinity

Washington, D.C.

Everybody has a story to tell about their life’s experiences, but for one reason or another not everybody wants to tell the story of the difficulties, hurdles, and challenges that they have had to endure over the years. Many people simply lack the discipline or creative ability to relate their story in a compelling enough manner to make it interesting, even intriguing, for others to want to read it! Autobiographies are not only tedious to write, but they can reveal too much about a person and one’s family and associates, or worse, reveal too little to be worth the effort. Furthermore, in an increasingly materialistic world beguiled by the sensational and the secular, narratives about one’s faith journey that depict a person’s struggle for spiritual clarity and purpose must compete in a highly competitive market crowded by would-be authors for whom success always seems elusive.

Melvin McCaster dares to enter this crowded field with a wonderful narrative about humble beginnings of an African American male who didn’t wind up as an addict, mugger, dead-beat dad, felon, or on the welfare rolls. His is a story of a hardworking, courageous man of faith who persisted, at times against great odds, to affirm that even life in the rural South or the Northern ghetto can have integrity.

This autobiography, Struck Down, but Not Destroyed, is a vintage narrative of a struggling African American man who is committed to make something of himself—without blaming America for his problems along the way. His is the story of a decent African American man whose journey reflects the untold journey of many unrecognized heroes—average Joes—who value education, and discerning God’s gifts in a way that enables him to provide for a blended family largely through the power of Christian faith!

This is an unpretentious attempt to celebrate small victories for those who are so often in this world considered the least of these. These many unheralded stalwarts of faith have made solid contributions; and yet have survived numerous close calls! Because of this, Struck Down, but Not Destroyed offers a wonderful word of encouragement about the true significance of the seeming insignificant!

I have known Brother Melvin and his family for over a decade, since he moved to Washington, D.C., from Detroit, Michigan, in order to matriculate as a seminarian at the Howard University School of Divinity. On his second night, as he was checking into one of the residence halls, he was robbed at gunpoint by an urban thug. A lesser soul would have taken his family immediately back to Detroit that very evening! When Melvin shared his ordeal with me as his academic advisor, I marveled at his calm composure and determination not to allow the devil to alter his plans. In working with him at the school in the years that followed, I came to appreciate the depth of his faith, his family commitments, and his conscientiousness as a graduate student. I knew that he had an important story that many others, discouraged on the margins of society, but clinging to faith needed to hear. I was quite pleased when he asked me to help him tell his remarkable story.

This narrative of a social and spiritual odyssey, comes straight from the heart of a wounded healer and servant leader of a small congregation whose target audience is the members of the laity of other churches and even persons who seem quite ordinary, but are wrestling with an extraordinary Call to ministry. This book is not burdened with technical or obscure academic language, but is written in straightforward prose that is easy to engage. The sixteen chapters with helpful descriptive captions unfold in the chronological sequence of Brother McCaster’s life events against the background, doubts, and scares of his extended family and others associated with him. For the discerning eye, there are many timeless lessons to be learned from these pages. One cannot miss Reverend Melvin McCaster’s uncanny and profound sense of joy as it resounds throughout this exceptional testimony about the rewards for those who persist in the faith of our humble yet most inspiring forebears.

Easter, 2008

Acknowledgments

I am eternally grateful to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who made this book possible. Without Him, Struck Down, But Not Destroyed would not have been written.

I am indebted to many people who assisted me in various ways during the two years I was writing this autobiography.

The following person was particularly helpful in editing this manuscript: Dr. Cain Hope Felder; his editorial comments added strength to this autobiography.

I am indebted to Dr. Gene Rice for his valuable comments that added strength to this autobiography.

I am indebted to Sherry Loury who served as my reading audience and read critically to what I wrote and gave valuable comments that added strength to this autobiography.

I am indebted to the historian Charles Varner from Montgomery, Alabama, for his valuable information on Hale Elementary School and Rosa Parks.

I am indebted to Dr. James H. Cone who took the time out of his busy schedule to respond to my question. I would like to personally thank him for allowing me to use a quote in my book.

I am indebted to Attorney Karl Means for his recommendations for my autobiography.

I am indebted to Adeboye Adegbenro for his art work on the front cover of my book. God has truly gifted you with great talent.

I am indebted to Milledge & Mattie McCaster, Gwen Terry, Gloria Alexander, Rosa Green, Emma Reaves, Ben Watson, Maurice Sealey, Jessie Dixon, Jessie Williams, Charlie Fitch, Richard McCaster, Jannie Taylor, Ethel Miller, Belinda McCaster and Sherry Loury for their valuable information in chapter one.

I am indebted to Dr. Mark Cooks, Clarence Perry, Velma Jackson, Thomas Anderson, Evelyn Respress, Minister Calvin Lewis and Sherry Loury for their valuable information on the John W. Smith Homes.

I am indebted to Milledge McCaster, Malcolm McCaster, Sherry Loury and Tammy McCaster for their valuable information in chapter three.

I am indebted to Clint Knott, Malcolm McCaster and Donald Jones for their valuable information in chapter five.

I am indebted to T.J. West for her valuable information on the St. Mary’s County, Maryland, vacation community.

I am indebted to Lydia Wright for her valuable information on the gospel selection Running for My Life.

I am indebted to James Martin and Lillie Meadows-Byrd for their valuable information on the First Baptist Institutional Church.

I am indebted to Beck Keith from Wayne State University for her course description of African Civilizations to 1800. I am eternally grateful for her research of Dr. Monica Schuler’s name.

Special acknowledgment must be given to Alfheia Dyer, Alicia Dyer, Johnnie Dyer, Melvin McCaster II, Richard Loury, Sheila McCaster, Asia Hunter and Michelle Taylor for their valuable information in this autobiography.

I am indebted to all the people who made a positive difference in my life. I am grateful for the teachers who taught me. I am thankful to those who have reached out to help me when I was in need.

I am grateful to members of the Greater Faith Missionary Baptist Church of Greater Maryland for continuing to have faith that the Lord will provide us with a church building.

Finally, without the support of my wife, Kim McCaster, this autobiography could not have been written.

Chapter I

In the Early Years of My Life

Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee, and I ordained thee a prophet unto the nations.

(Jeremiah 1:5)

I was born on August 19, 1959, at 5:18 on a Wednesday morning; I was a baby with cowlick, a section of hair growing in a different direction. On my certificate of birth, I weighed six pounds and twelve ounces. According to Mom, the nurses referred to me as a little man. My parents’ residence at the time I was born was on Pallister Avenue. My birthplace was the former Trinity Hospital, Detroit, Michigan (1934-1962). Trinity Hospital was a black-owned and-operated hospital in the Detroit metropolitan area during the twentieth century. The founders were Drs. W. Harold Johnson, Frank Railford, Jr., and Chester C. Ames. It was located on East Congress and Dubois (1934) and on East Vernor Street in 1942 when it had 142 beds. Trinity Hospital was known for its best post-graduate surgical training and residency program for African American physicians and as Detroit’s first African American hospital to operate a cancer detection center. At that time, there was a need not only for the housing and treatment of the ill, but for the training and guidance of the African American community. In 1962, it relocated as Boulevard General Hospital on West Grand Boulevard in Detroit. A picture of the hospital is depicted on my birth certificate. It looks like an old apartment building to me.

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Top picture: Trinity Hospital

Middle picture: From left to right: Aunt Keno and Uncle Joe

Bottom picture: Magic Johnson, Francine, and Uncle Richard in a restaurant in Los Angeles

Because another woman was delivering in the small Delivery Room at Trinity Hospital, the nurses asked my Mom not to continue pushing. According to Mom, the nurses pushed me back, but I was born within seconds. My parents, Milledge and Mattie, named me Melvin Joe. It would be many years later that I would discover the significant link associated with my name. Like myself, all three of my brothers’ names began with the letter M, and my middle name would be shared with my Uncle Joe, my mother’s only remaining brother at that time. I was the second oldest son and the third child born to my parents. Both of my parents migrated from the South seeking economic opportunities. Detroit had become known as the industrialized city, the Motor City. The big three automakers were offering jobs. My parents had already begun their family prior to moving to Detroit. Mom became pregnant with my oldest brother, Milledge, while living on Tolvert Street. Milledge (Junior) was born in Grandmother’s house located on Lucy Walker Drive in Sumter County, Alabama, and my oldest sister, Belinda (Linda), was born on Tolvert Street in Montgomery, Alabama. Tolvert Street was located near North Ripley Street in the Charles Town Community. My parents rented this house for approximately four years.

While living on Tolvert, Mom worked as a seamstress at Capital City Laundry. It was located on Madison Avenue in Montgomery. Dad worked at Jiffy Dry Cleaners. It was located on Montgomery Avenue in downtown Montgomery. It was a significant time in Black history. My parents recall the lynching and brutal murder of Emmett Till. He was a fourteen-year-old Chicago native visiting relatives in Money, Mississippi. On August 28, 1955, he was beaten and lynched, shot and thrown into the Tallahatchie River, for allegedly whistling at a white woman. His body stayed in the river for three days until it was discovered and retrieved by two fishermen. They discovered his body with a seventy-five-pound gin fan tied to his neck as a weight with barbed wire. Moreover, on December 1, 1955, after a day working as a seamstress at the Montgomery Fair Department Store, located on Dexter Avenue in downtown Montgomery, Mrs. Rosa Parks boarded the Cleveland Avenue bus # 2857 at around 6:00 p.m., Thursday. She boarded the bus at Court Square which was located across a plaza from Montgomery Fair. When the bus left Court Square, it proceeded to the next stop, which was Lee Street. The second stop was in front of the Empire Theater. Here, in front of the Empire Theater, Mrs. Rosa Parks refused to obey bus driver James Blake’s demand that she relinquish her seat to a white passenger. She was arrested by the police. Four days later, December 5, on a Monday, the Montgomery Bus Boycott began and lasted for 381 days. As a result, it led to the ending of segregation on Montgomery’s buses. Mrs. Rosa Parks never worked at the Shirt Factory. Mrs. Idessa Redden another civil rights icon worked at the Shirt Factory. The Shirt Factory was located on the west side of town on Grady Street. It was far removed from the scene of the bus incident. Recently, I learned of two sources that are very good resources for the study on the Montgomery Bus Boycott. They are: Attorney Fred D. Gray’s book entitled Bus Ride to Justice, which gives a very detailed and authoritative account of the Montgomery Bus Boycott and E.D. Nixon’s biography entitled The Children Coming On.

My parents with children moved to Roosevelt Street in the Washington Park community. They lived downstairs in a two-family flat. There was a housing unit located directly across the street from my parents’ residence. Roosevelt Street was near Oak Street. Hill Street was east of Roosevelt Street. My parents lived there less than a year. After making a decision to move to Detroit, they sold their furniture and moved back to Charles Town. My parents lived on Lower Wetumpta Road with my Aunt Rose and Uncle Lewis for about three weeks.

In 1956, my parents moved with children to Detroit by Greyhound Bus. It was part of the great post-World War II movement in which many African Americans migrated to cities in the North. My parents’ first place of residence after arriving in Detroit would be Taylor Avenue located near Twelfth Street. It was a two-family flat. My parents, Grandmother Rosa Watson (MaDear) and Aunt Karen (Keno) lived upstairs. The owner lived downstairs. Mom was working at Warren Grill Restaurant located on Warren Avenue. One day, the owner and her boyfriend got into a fight. She shot and killed him with a sawed-off shotgun. As a result, my parents moved to Virginia Park Avenue. Aunt Keno had rented this two-family flat from the owner. My parents had agreed to pay rent to Aunt Keno. Somehow my parents were informed that the owner had rented this two-family flat to another family as well as my Aunt Keno. After living at the two-family flat on Virginia Park for three days, Aunt Keno rented a two-family flat three doors away from the previous two-family flat. This was the second time my parents lived and shared rent with Aunt Keno on Virginia Park. My parents lived upstairs with their two children, Milledge and Linda, and Aunt Keno. They lived there for approximately four months.

My parents’ next move would be a half a block away on Virginia Park. It was near Twelfth Street and Woodrow Wilson Avenue. Mom and Dad occupied the downstairs with Milledge and Linda and my Uncle and Aunt, William (Bill) Sr. and Sharon Crippins. The owner lived upstairs. This was the third time my parents lived on Virginia Park. My parents’ next move would be to Blaine Avenue. Our apartment was located on the second floor. My parents lived there for about three months.

One day while living on Blaine, Milledge, who was about six years old, got a hold of a cigarette lighter that was on the table. Somehow while my parents were asleep about 8:00 in the morning on a Wednesday, Milledge managed to light the cigarette lighter. It burnt his hand. As a result, he threw the cigarette lighter down. The cigarette lighter set the living room curtains on fire. The room was soon engulfed with fire and smoke. Milledge ran into my parents’ bedroom and woke them up shouting, Mommy, Daddy, wake up and watch the house burn down. After a few stressful moments my Dad was able to put out the fire. However, Mr. Wake Up and Watch the House Burn Down would have a fire of his own to put out after Mama finished whipping him. Today, my parents would be reported to the police for such parental imposition and discipline.

In 1957, while living on Blaine my parents opened their own restaurant. They named the restaurant M & M after my father’s initial of his first and last name. Prior to my parents owning the M & M Restaurant, it was a drug store. The previous owner went out of business. Mr. Polo, who owned the Polo Ice Cream company, also owned the building that my parents were interested in owning. Mr. Polo asked my Dad if he wanted to take a look at the building. Dad agreed to look at the building. As a result, my parents brought the building. It was located on Westminster Avenue. M & M Restaurant was a soul food restaurant. It generally opened at 6:00 a.m. My parents moved to Euclid Avenue. It was a two-family flat. While living at Euclid, my parents still owned and operated the M & M Restaurant. My parents owned the restaurant for approximately a year and a half. Aunts Sharon and Keno worked in the restaurant part-time. My parents eventually closed the restaurant because someone had come up through the sewer system and stole the meat and food out of their freezer. Mom was pregnant with me at that time. As a result, Dad got a job at Fifth Avenue Dry Cleaners located on West Grand Boulevard. Prior to working at Fifth Avenue Dry Cleaners, Dad was receiving unemployment from Montgomery.

My mother shared with me a story when I was a teenager of an incident that occurred while living on Pallister. We lived in an apartment on the second floor across from Trinity Hospital. It had two bedrooms, a kitchen and bathroom. I was about a month old at that time. Mom said that the very next day after moving into this two-family unit, lightning struck a telephone pole just outside our house. The pole caught fire. This was truly a close call. The pole was sitting outside Mom’s window. According to Mom, she moved me immediately with the other children. Milledge and Belinda were near the front of the apartment. Someone had called the fire department and they were able to put out the fire quickly. While living on Pallister, Dad was working at Clean Right Dry Cleaners located on Dexter Avenue.

After this, my family moved into a two-bedroom apartment on Pallister and Church Hill Avenues. Our flat was located on the first floor approximately a half a block away from the previous apartment. It had two bedrooms, living area, a kitchen and bathroom. It was here that my sister Sherry was born. Since my parents continued to move rather frequently around the city of Detroit, my family sometimes experienced difficulty in referring to any one place as home. Frequently, my parents moved around due to their financial hardship. Dad was working as a presser at Clean Right Dry Cleaners. Mom worked at Greenleaf Restaurant located on Linwood Avenue. Often my parents could not find a babysitter for us. There were many other factors contributing to my parents’ decisions to move; inadequate housing, and the expansion of our family were definitely key components. People were laid off from the big three automakers in Detroit.

In the early 1960’s, some were renting space inside their neighbors’ garages. Fortunately, we never had to live in a garage. Regardless of the circumstances surrounding our frequent moves, it became apparent to me at a very young age that our family was the glue that actually held us together and made our dwellings a home. It did not take long for me to realize that home was within us. It was not based on the architecture of the building, nor its geographical location, but the love, perseverance and moreover family unity that we shared with each other. Family was always the key component. Mom was always so great at making any place we lived, home. She did domestic work for several white families in Detroit. Our home always smelled clean. It always looked very neat. Although Mom did not have a lot of money, Mom made do with what she had. Mom was the main bread provider. She had to be because my Dad was never the same after the Korean War. Dad shared an incident that involved Milledge and Lynn playing in a room closet that had loose hanging wires. Milledge and Lynn were slightly electrocuted by these wires. My Dad saved their lives by wedging a broomstick in between them and the wires. It was very apparent to all of us that God had spared their lives.

I was about three years old when my parents moved into an adjacent apartment building located on Collingwood Avenue near Twelfth Street. Our new apartment was located on the third floor. Dad was not working. Mom did domestic work. We lived there for approximately two years. Later, my parents moved a few blocks away on Collingwood near Woodrow Wilson Street. This was the second time we lived on Collingwood. Our apartment was located on the first floor.

Approximately six months later, my parents relocated to a basement apartment on Calvert Avenue. My parents would often talk about an incident that occurred during my childhood. According to my parents, while living on Calvert, I threw an ashtray into the toilet. Of course this caused a major plumbing problem. My parents did not have the money to pay for a plumber, so as a result, Dad sat me down and gave me a mini-crash course in plumbing. I like to refer to it as Dad’s Plumbing 101. For some reason, my parents seem to recall this incident quite well. My Mom told me that, after having me sit there and smelling all that mess, I never threw anything else in a toilet again. We later moved to Fourteenth Street and Blaine Avenue