Architecture in Black and White

By J.M. Yielding

Architecture…often referred to as “the world’s second oldest profession”… was the dream of a young black boy, the son of a coal miner, since he earned that merit badge in the Boy Scouts. Calvin Weems Johnson was the oldest of four siblings, born and raised in the mountains of West Virginia, and was smitten by the desire to defy odds and become a flourishing architect someday. His journey follows many avenues, as the family is displaced often as Calvin’s father strives to remain employed and support his family.
The story tells of Calvin’s witty adventures through childhood, early schooling, the loss of his high school sweetheart, his marriage, his formal architectural education, his jaunt in the military, and finally—with the aid of a prospering white architect—he arrives in private practice…only to discover that his chosen profession is not exactly what he had imagined it would be.
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Like Calvin Johnson, Aaron Goldsmith, also aspired to become a world-class architect. Aaron was the only son of medical doctors, Rueben and Meriam Goldsmith; his life journey was similar to Calvin’s in many respects. Aaron’s early childhood was spent in Southern West Virginia, where he enjoyed an affluent lifestyle, excelling in academics and athletics. In his junior year, the family moved to northern West Virginia, where his parents joined the WVU Medical School faculty. Aaron’s senior year at his new school was rewarding…he lettered in all sports, fell in love, and was offered a scholarship after graduation, to play football at Georgia Tech, and study architecture there.
Echoing Calvin’s misfortune, Aaron too, lost his ‘first-love,’ and on the rebound, weds an airline stewardess…a Southern Baptist…a Georgia Peach. After receiving his degree and a commission as an army officer, he began his career, only to encounter a shocking interruption in his plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Oct 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781663208651

J.M. Yielding

J. M. YIELDING is retired from the practice architecture after 40 years and is currently serving as a member of the Architectural Review Committee for a “Planned Community Development” in Southwest Georgia. He is a first-time novelist and enjoys Architectural History, volunteering, and gardening. He and his wife Wylene, a retired R.N., live in Albany, Georgia, and have a multitude of cats, two adult daughters, and two grandchildren.

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Copyright © 2020 J.M. Yielding.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by

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without the written permission of the author except in the case of

brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents,

organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products

of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-0864-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-0865-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020917158

iUniverse rev. date: 10/13/2020

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Epilogue

For Mack, Derrell, Kent, Janet, Jim, David, Edward,

Ruby, Everett, Susanne, Ellen and Stacie - former

partners and associates of YWM Architects.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

While I was in the practice of architecture, I thought that designing a building—with a cadre of assistants—was a big deal. But after I retired and began writing my book, I came to realize how daunting it was—again with lots of helpers—to create something so stunning yet small enough to hold in one’s hand.

This book has been made possible by the encouragement and contributions of a few special people, mostly family members, all of whom deserve my humble thanks.

First, my daughter Jackie, who, after reading a few of my early stories, encouraged me to put them together and write a novel.

Second, my cousin Sue, who proofread the first completed manuscript and made several worthy recommendations; my sisters, Sandy and Pattie, my nephew Charles, for reading and commenting on the story content; and finally, my daughter Beverly, a talented interior designer, for offering comments and final proofreading prior to my sending the manuscript to the publisher.

Third, thanks to my wife for putting up with my long hours of tapping on my laptop computer on our dining room table as we sheltered in place during the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020.

And finally, iUniverse publishing company for helping to turn my manuscript into a book.

The thing always happens that you really believe

in; and the belief in a thing makes it happen.

—Frank Lloyd Wright

CHAPTER 1

I T WAS A WARM MID-AUGUST afternoon in 1945, and Calvin Weems Johnson was swinging in an old tire that his father had hung from a huge apple tree in their yard. The branches were loaded with green apples, but he was told not to eat them yet.

You’ll get a bellyache, his mom had cautioned, and you might have to take another dose of castor oil. Calvin grimaced at the thought of that awful-tasting goop that his mom had prescribed on previous occasions.

Calvin was still mourning the loss of a small injured bird that he had found in the yard a week earlier. His father had told him it looked like a young eagle, so he and his mother had put it in a cardboard box on a soft bath towel with some bread crumbs and a saucer of water. He kept the box beside his bed, and each morning, he eagerly checked the box, hoping to see some improvement in his patient’s condition, but yesterday morning when he looked, the little fellow was lifeless. He solemnly picked up the bird and held it close to his chest. With tears streaming down his checks, he told his mama, We’ve got to have a funeral like the one when Granny Barrett died last year.

He and his mom had dug a hole near the apple tree. Calvin placed the cold, stiff bird in a cigar box and reverently lowered it into the grave, while his mom read a passage from the family Bible: Those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.

Calvin was pondering his mama’s words, swinging idly, when a commotion started in the street below, near the post office. Suddenly, horns began blaring from a few cars that were moving slowly along the paved road in front of the Johnson home.

Startled, Calvin dragged his bare feet in the dirt, stopped swinging, and looked around. People were coming out of the Patterson house next door, jumping up and down, whistling, and shouting. Across the dirt road leading up the hill to the church, he saw a lady coming out of her house, beating on an iron skillet with a large metal soup spoon. Then from across the railroad, he heard someone shooting firecrackers … or was it a shotgun? Dogs in the neighborhood began running around, barking madly. And as he jumped off the swing, the church bell started ringing.

Frightened, Calvin thought something terrible must have happened. The only time the church bell rang was on Sunday—or when somebody’s house caught on fire. And since it wasn’t Sunday, and he didn’t see smoke anywhere, he wondered what in the world was going on.

He and his puppy, Pete, raced across the yard, up the front steps, and into the house. In a nervous voice, he yelled, Mama, Mama! What’s going on out there? He paused to catch his breath and then continued. Everybody’s making a lot of noise, and the church bell is ringing … and I don’t see smoke nowhere!

Susanna Johnson jumped up from the wooden ladder-back chair near the window, where she had been snapping beans and listening to the radio while watching her young daughter, Cindy, playing on a blanket on the linoleum floor.

The war is over! she said as she turned up the volume on the small Philco radio sitting on the table in the corner of the living room.

And after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Japanese have chosen to surrender, the stammering voice announced amid the static, and World War II has finally come to an end!

Calvin stared at the radio as the newscast continued. And this means that all the fighting and killing and suffering will cease, and our troops will be coming home soon.

Oh, praise the Lord, his mother sang out as the announcer repeated his breathtaking announcement. Raising her hands toward the ceiling, she exclaimed, So many prayers have been answered!

Does that mean that Uncle Bill and Uncle Thomas will be coming home from the war? Calvin asked, remembering the dark, colorful tattoos on his uncle Bill’s big, hairy arms.

Yes! Oh, my goodness, yes! his mother yelled, brushing tears from her eyes. They both will get to come home, and this time, hopefully it will be for good.

Well, I hope Uncle Bill brings me some seashells this time, and he better not beard me again with his old, rough whiskers.

Calvin had only seen his mother’s brother Bill one time, and that was last Christmas. The family had traveled to Kingwood, a small mining town in an adjoining county, for his grandmother Barrett’s funeral. The young Sergeant William Barrett was serving a tour of duty in Hawaii and had been able to come home on furlough for his mother’s funeral, but his older brother did not make it.

Anna had another brother, Ray, but the family didn’t mention him very often. He couldn’t make it to his mother’s funeral because he was detained for a few weeks in a county jail in Tennessee. He was quite fond of the bottle and was always gambling—shooting craps, Calvin’s dad called it—and he only visited family members when he needed a loan or a place to spend a few nights. Ray was a scoundrel, a drifter, a real hobo.

Ray is the black sheep of your family, Jeff had commented to Anna one evening at the supper table.

Why is he a black sheep? Calvin said. Why can’t he be a white sheep—a white sheep in a black family? he asked his mother.

Yeah! Cindy said innocently. If he was a white sheep, everybody could see him better.

Anna burst out laughing and said, Yes, dear, if he was a white sheep, that might mean he found Jesus and got cleansed.

Calvin had never seen his father’s brother, Thomas, but had enjoyed looking at several pictures of him in his flying suit in the family album. He had learned from his dad that Uncle Thomas learned to fly airplanes at a college somewhere down south and that he held the rank of major.

With Calvin standing at the living room door, still nervous from the eruption outside, Anna quickly bent over and gathered up her young daughter, Cindy, from the floor. Then, grabbing Calvin by the hand, she rushed out the door and stopped at the top of the steps of the front porch. Cars and trucks were now streaming along the narrow asphalt road, racing their engines, blaring their horns, and squealing their tires. People were gathering in front of the tiny post office located between the road and the railroad, shouting, hugging one another, and waving tiny American flags.

Oh, I wish your daddy didn’t have to work today so he could be here to see this, she exclaimed as she waved at friends in the street below.

As they made their way down the embankment toward the revelers, Calvin spotted a few of his friends from Sunday school. Then he noticed Mrs. Crockett, the post mistress, handing out the small flags.

Mama, this is like the picnic the church had on the Fourth of July! Calvin exclaimed, as he began to relax and enjoy the celebration.

That’s right. Everybody’s so happy, his mother replied as she lowered Cindy to the ground. And there hasn’t been this much excitement around here since that train wreck on the trestle last year! Do you remember when the train went off the bridge and fell into the river? she asked as she squeezed his trembling hand.

Yes, ma’am, and I’m glad nobody got hurt!

Calvin, not yet wanting to let go of his mother’s hand, stood in awe as the crowd began singing, My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty.

After the song ended and the crowd began to disperse, Calvin realized that this was indeed a special day because when he looked up at his mom, she seemed to be laughing and crying at the same time.

Calvin, this fifteenth day of August will mean a lot more to you when you get older, she explained solemnly and then bent and kissed the top of his head. In school, you’ll learn how lots of people were hurt and killed in the war, and how families at home suffered, but more importantly, you’ll learn how the world will change because of this war.

The mention of school excited Calvin because he would be celebrating his sixth birthday in a few days, and he would be starting the first grade at Cliffton Elementary School after Labor Day.

Calvin could hardly wait until his daddy got home from work. He was going to tell him about the war ending … and then ask if he could have a birthday party.

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Calvin’s father, Jefferson Davis Johnson, had moved with his family from northern Alabama to southern West Virginia in 1935, when his father and older brother were looking for work in the coal mines. Jeff’s father, Rufus Johnson, and his wife, Beulah, had three sons at the time of the move: Earl, twenty; Jeff, eighteen; and Thomas, sixteen.

The oldest son, Earl, had quit school when he turned sixteen and began working with his dad in a coal mine in Walton County, west of Birmingham. He had grown up quickly and was proud to help support the family; however, in the spring of 1934, the mine suddenly shut down due to the intrusion of the local miners’ union. Rufus and Beulah were distraught and pondered a move to West Virginia, where they had heard that the coal-mining industry was flourishing.

Jeff, the middle son, was near graduation from high school when he learned of the pending move. He was a superstar athlete and had been offered a football scholarship to play at a Negro college in southwest Georgia. With the news of the family move, Jeff dreaded having to inform his coach and teammates that he would be leaving school and could not accept the football scholarship.

Thomas, the youngest son, was a very bright boy and was completing the tenth grade. He was extremely interested in bicycles, automobiles, trains, and airplanes—all things mechanical. He had a knack for bicycle repairs, and several bikes were always piled in the yard awaiting his services. The family had a black 1932 Ford Tudor sedan, and Thomas had learned to drive it around the yard at an early age. He was always eager to provide maintenance on the aging vehicle when necessary. But his real goal in life was flying airplanes if he ever had an opportunity.

Disrupted by the decision to move, the young men reluctantly accepted their fate, and the family relocated to the southern portion of the Mountain State in the late summer of 1935. After days of pulling their small makeshift trailer around the narrow mountain roads, in search of a place to put down roots, they finally settled in Tarrytown, a small mining community in Dowdy County, near the Kentucky line. The family members, weary from their days on the road and nights of camping out, eagerly worked together to unload their belongings into a large but drab, two-story wooden boardinghouse that they had happened upon in the center of town. Once the move-in was complete and the Johnsons had settled in, they became acquainted with the two other families and three single miners who were living in the building. And after talking about employment with their neighbors and other miners in the area, the following week, Mr. Rufus and his son Earl landed jobs at a mine nearby. Beulah, a gifted cook, was subsequently hired as the chef for the boardinghouse because of her southern sweet tea, delicious fried chicken, buttermilk biscuits, fried ham, and red-eye gravy.

Young Jeff also wanted to work in the mine but was informed that he was too young and inexperienced. In the meantime, he was content to deliver the Bluewell Daily Telegraph and Charlestown Gazette newspapers around town early each morning and then help his mother prepare the noon meal for tenants in the boardinghouse. On Saturdays, he worked as a bag boy at Kroger’s in nearby River City. Still, with an interest in coal mining, he was slowly learning the trade by listening to his father and older brother discuss their work around the supper table at the end of each day’s shift.

Thomas was now an eleventh grader at one of the two county high schools for Negros and had no intention of mining coal. He had chosen a curriculum heavy in applied mechanics, physics, math, and science at his new school. He was a quick learner, and his teachers took note of his talents and ability. There was no secret about his ambition, and he focused his full attention toward soaring through the clouds in an airplane someday.

Beulah, the stout matriarch with the ever-present polka-dot bandana and checkered apron, was quickly dubbed Aunt Jemima by the young’uns in the house. She was a devoted wife and proud mother of her three sons, and she exhausted herself each day keeping her boardinghouse brood properly clothed, physically nourished, and spiritually motivated. And one of the highlights of her day was the quality time she was able to spend with her still-at-home Jeff.

When the cleanup from the noon meal was complete and the preparations for the supper meal were underway, Beulah and Jeff often discussed what the future might hold for him.

Son, you jest have to be patient and trust the Lord. He has a plan for you. If he wants you to be a coal miner, it will happen, but first you have to prepare yourself and be ready when the call comes. Can I get an amen?

I know, Mom, but I regret giving up that football scholarship. I could have gone to college and learned something other than coal mining.

CHAPTER 2

I N THE SPRING OF 1938, Jeff celebrated his twenty-first birthday and was surprised to learn that he had landed his first job as a coal miner. He had learned the ways of mining by listening intently to his father and older brother and their buddies in the boardinghouse as they sat on the front porch after supper, smoking and chewing tobacco and spitting. Jeff had quickly picked up on the fact that miners always referred to their coworkers as buddies: Hey, buddy, ya got any water in your dinner bucket? Hey, buddy, can I have a chew of your Red Man? Miners couldn’t smoke in the mine, for fear of a gas explosion.

Jeff had supplemented his growing knowledge of mining by reading books and magazines on the profession whenever possible. He had labored to prepare himself for the role and finally felt that now he was ready to be a working man. He had applied for a job at several locations in the area, and on Saint Patrick’s Day, his efforts were rewarded when he received word that he had been offered a journeyman’s job in a small mining town some seventy-five miles from Tarrytown. He was instructed to report to the company office the first Monday in April.

Well, I hope this works out, he told his mom.

It’s a beginning, she said, but I sure hate to lose my helper here at the boardinghouse.

That won’t be a problem, Jeff said. You’ve got this place running fine.

I guess you’ll want to go and break the good news to that sweet girl you’ve been seeing.

Yes, ma’am, but she’s not going to be very happy.

When the day of departure finally arrived, Jeff packed his belongings in a tattered brown suitcase, bid his family goodbye, and walked in a slight drizzle to the post office, where he waited to board the city bus. After arriving at the bus terminal in River City, he purchased his ticket and made his way to the back of the Greyhound bus that would take him to the mining town of Omar. The trip took nearly three hours, with stops at several towns along the route. Jeff spent most of the time gazing out the window at the dark clouds and the steady rain. He had not slept well the night before, and he was unable to catch a few winks now as he dwelled on his new job.

After stepping from the bus at the Omar bus station, Jeff quickly made his way to the colored restroom. After relieving himself, he picked up his luggage and reentered the waiting room, smelling the aroma of fresh popcorn. He paid the shoeshine man ten cents for a bag and then walked to the front door of the terminal, where he spotted a cab driver.

Sir, can you tell me where the office of the Omar Mining Company is located?

Sho can, but I’d rather drive you there! he said.

I don’t have much money, and I’d rather walk if it’s not too far.

Well, it’s about a mile away—down Prince Avenue here to the edge of town where it meets the Jordan highway. You can’t miss it—big building at the intersection.

Jeff thanked the taxi driver, picked up his suitcase, and began shuffling along the wet sidewalk. The rain had finally stopped, but there were puddles everywhere, and the temperature was chilly from the lingering March winds.

After walking nearly fifteen minutes, Jeff left the city behind and was now in a residential section, with small craftsman style homes and white fences along the street.

As he slowed his pace to admire the landscape, he noticed a For Rent sign on one of the homes and decided to inquire.

After knocking on the door, he heard loud barking from inside. He waited a few minutes and knocked again. The barking continued, seemingly more aggressive. He turned to leave but heard the door being unlocked and a lady’s voice speaking to the dog.

"Hush, Tiny … and stay!

The dog whimpered, and an elderly white lady with a cane slowly opened the door.

Jeff recoiled when he saw that Tiny was in fact a huge brown German shepherd.

Jeff finally found his voice and said, Ma’am, I am new in town. I will be working for the Omar Coal Company, and I need a place to stay for a little while.

Why yes, sonny. My late husband, Mr. Crabtree, was an officer with the company, but after he passed away, I decided to make the garage behind the house into a small apartment. I don’t usually rent to a colored man. Are you an honest man? Can you afford ten dollars a month?

Jeff walked slowly around the house with the landlord and inspected the shabby apartment. Figuring it would suffice, he left his suitcase inside, signed a one-page form, paid ten dollars, then took the key and locked the door. He continued his walk and arrived twenty minutes later at the intersection of the Jordan highway.

Across the street, Jeff saw the mining office in a building shared with the company doctor, located adjacent to the large company store. He took a deep breath, pulled some paperwork from his jacket pocket, and approached the complex.

Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Jefferson Johnson, and I have a four o’clock appointment with Mr. Hudson about employment.

Please have a seat, and I’ll inform Mr. Hudson that you are here.

The reception area was well furnished with expensive chairs, tables, and lamps, and large mining pictures were mounted on the walls. Jeff picked up a brochure from the coffee table and was flipping the pages when Mr. Hudson entered the waiting room.

Hello, Mr. Johnson. We have been expecting you. How was your trip from Dowdy County?

The trip was good, but the weather was awful, Jeff said.

Please follow me to the conference room, and we’ll get down to business.

Mr. Hudson carefully went through all the policies and procedures of the company, explained the salary and benefits, reviewed maps of the mine, and emphasized the importance of safety. He then informed Jeff to report to the lamphouse near the mine entrance the next day, to draw his equipment and meet his crew foreman. In closing, he asked if Jeff had any questions and then answered each as Jeff asked them.

Do you have a place to stay? Mr. Hudson asked as they left the room.

Yes. As a matter of fact, I rented a small apartment from a Mrs. Crabtree on my way here. She said her husband used to be with the company.

Mmm, yes, Ralph was a fine man. He was in charge of the company store.

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Shortly after beginning work and receiving a couple of paychecks, Calvin realized that his job was for real, and after he returned to Tarrytown for the Fourth of July weekend, he decided to ask Anna, his first love, if she would marry him.

Jeff had been courting Susanna Barrett heavily for the past fifteen months and had shared his feelings about the young lady, known as Anna, with his family. Jeff’s mom especially liked Anna because of her sweet disposition and humble manner. She quickly gave her approval of the marriage. Anna’s parents were happy as well and seemed relieved to have one less sibling at home to care for.

After the wedding at the local justice of the peace, Jeff took Anna to a picture show in River City, where they enjoyed watching Tarzan of