My Story

By Uuka Ato

My Story is an autobiography of the life of Uuka Umi Ato. It consists of his family matters, accomplishments, meetings, and living experiences with others in other continents, as well as his life during the Jim Crow Era in the North and South of the United States of America. His story also details his strength and ambition as he continues to move forward during the difficult times.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Feb 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643503110

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My Story

Uuka Ato

Copyright © 2019 Uuka Ato

All rights reserved

First Edition

Page Publishing, Inc

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc 2019

ISBN 978-1-64350-310-3 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64350-311-0 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

My Story is dedicated to my late wife, Rose A. Ato, who passed away on February 23, 2014.

Prologue

My Story

My story began on June 16, 1943, in Greenwood, Mississippi. I was the third born. My sister’s name is Veola Lucas, and my brother’s name is Robert Lucas. At that time, I was given the name of David Lucas (this name I will not acknowledge again in my story). My father’s name was Robert Lucas, and my mother’s name was Eleanor Lucas. My mother’s maiden name was Eleanor Herron. The two of them passed away some years ago. I’m the youngest of my father (2004) and my mother (2006). The oldest child is my sister, the second is my brother. My sister married a fellow named Thomas Tucker, who passed away about six months ago. We all called him Allen. Allen was one of the best brothers-in-law that one could have. He helped us financially anytime that we asked. He is highly missed. I remember very little about my story when I lived in Mississippi. However, I can recall in the early 1950s when my Grandmother (Martha Hoskin) was living with us of should I say we were living with her. My father and mother had separated when I was very young—around four or five years of age.

Grandmother

I remember very little about my life when I lived in Mississippi. However, I can recall in the early 1950s when my grandmother was living with us, or should I say, when we were living with my grandmother. I can recall when my grandmother, mother, sister, and brother were working in the cotton fields. I was very small, so my grandmother would give me a small sack and ask me to fill the sack up with cotton. I didn’t think that I would ever fill the sack completely. I recalled once putting dirt and sticks into the sack attempting to trick my grandmother. Obviously, grandmother had seen this trick before. I don’t know who may have tried this before—maybe my older brother or her children. Grandmother would never let on that she knew that I had more than cotton.

After the sack was full enough, I would walk over where grandmother was working and say to her, I am finished now. Can I take a break?

Grandmother would look at the sack and say, Boy, you better stop fooling around and take all that dirt and everything else that you’ve put in the sack before I take a switch and beat your behind.

I would stand there and laugh at grandmother and say, I can’t fill this sack. I don’t like to pick cotton.

Grandmother would put her sack down and picked up her switch and chase after me. She never caught up to me because I could run much faster than she.

After chasing me for a short time, she would give up. She would wait until we returned home. After dinner, we would stay up a few hours later. Soon it was bedtime.

A short time later, Grandmamma came into our room with her switch and said to me, You thought that I had forgot about you playing around in the fields early today?

I jumped up and attempted to run out of the room, but there was only one way out, and she was standing there, between me and the only escape route. She snatched me around the neck and held one of my arms and let me have it on my bottom. I would be screeching as loud as I could. I was jumping up and down! Meanwhile, my sister and brother would be standing there laughing and joking, saying I got what I deserved for laughing and playing with Grandmamma.

My sister and brother told me to stop playing and laughing with and at Grandmamma and to do what she told me to. If you don’t obey her, you will be sorry later on. They were right. By me being a young kid, five or six years of age. I didn’t realize how serious Grandmother was until later on when she would come into the bedroom with her switch. I would behave and stay put out of grandmother’s way for a few days.

After being punished by her on many occasions, I still didn’t learn my lesson. I would still play around in the field and I never picked a full sack of cotton. As time passed, grandmother gave up. I guess she realized that I would never pick a complete sack of cotton. She accepted what I showed her as long as there were no dirt or sticks in the sack.

She would thank me and smile and say, That’s very good, you are working hard today. I am proud of you. Now go over there to the next row and bring back as much as you can.

I would smile and say, Okay.

I would go away and pick a little cotton, and then I still would pick up some small sticks and then make toys out of them. I would return to show grandmother how much I had picked (which was not very much). Grandmother would stop working to look over toward my mother and the other family members and say, Okay, that was good. Then she would return back to work (picking cotton). As time went on, I stopped playing and laughing at Grandmother because I knew if I didn’t, I would get a whooping later on.

Several years passed (1955 or 1956) and my grandmother (Martha Hoskins) and my mother (Eleanor Anderson—my mother had married a man named Able Anderson) wanted to leave South Greenwood, Mississippi, and move up north to Chicago, specifically, because all my aunties and uncles, along with their families had moved away from Mississippi, with exception to my uncle Charles, my grandmamma’s oldest son. Uncle Charles was the stepbrother to the rest of my grandmamma’s nine children or so. He was much older than them. In any event, I saw Uncle Charlie maybe four or five times in my life, I didn’t know much about him. Years later, however, my grandmother and mother would talk about him, his wife, and the many children that Uncle Charles father from his two wives, a Ms. Aunt Minnie and Aunt Betty. I vaguely recall seeing or visiting some of Uncle Charles’s children, Charlene Betsy and some of the others, whose names I can’t recall.

My Story

Moving to Chicago

Grandmamma and Mother

The year was 1955 or 1956—a few days after Christmas Day, December 25. Grandmamma and mother, my brothers Robert (Hog) Lucas and Raymond (Bear) Mitchell. Veola Lucas and I had left some months or earlier. We moved from Greenwood, Mississippi, to Chicago, Illinois. I recall vividly that occasion, the ride on the Greyhound bus must have taken all night or at least fourteen hours. I recall that I wanted to sit in a seat alone by a window, and my grandmother told me I couldn’t sit alone—that I had to sit with my brother or sister.

I said, I want to sit by a window, and that Jr. and Raymond are sitting by a window and they will not let me sit next to the window. Grandmother told me to sit down and remain silent. I did sit down, but I continued to talk, attempting to move my brother away from the window so I could sit there. Grandmother demanded that I come and sit next to her and that I could sit in her lap for a little while, and I could see all the beautiful lights and cards and anything else that could be seen. I said okay happily realizing the consequences if I refused. Even though we were moving from the south to the north, from past experiences with Grandmother, I know that she would never forget and that it wouldn’t matter how many day passes that she would get me sooner or later.

I could never forget sitting in my grandmother’s lap was quite an experience. Grandmamma chewed tobacco and dipped snuff, every time that I would move around and because her discomfort she would blow her breath into my face and say to me, You better be still or I will give you another shot of my breath and a slap on your behind.

I didn’t challenge her, I remained as still as I could. I could hardly wait until the bus arrived to a rest site where everybody was allowed to get off the bus and stretch. As I said, the ride was about a total of fourteen hours, it seemed like the trip was at least two days. After the rest stop ended, everybody returned to the bus and continued to head north. This time, I was able to sit by a window alone; however, Grandmother was sitting directly behind me observing every move I made. If I stood up to see an object longer or better, Grandmother would say You better stay settled or you will be sitting back here with me again.

Realizing Grandmother didn’t play and I didn’t want to smell the tobacco and snuff on her breath, I remained seated. Every now and then, I would look back to see if Grandmother was asleep or what. Grandmother was always watching me, or so it appeared. I think she did fall asleep for a short time, but I wasn’t going to test her because I didn’t want to sit with her smelling her breath. I always loved my grandmother, she was a great lady (as was and is my mother). As a child five or six years of age, I didn’t want anyone holding or sitting in anyone’s lap as if I was an infant.

We arrived in Chicago on December 29, 1955, or 1956. I recall there was as some snow on the ground, Christmas trees and lights. It was very early in the morning and the sun was just coming up. Everyone was tired but we were all very happy that this bus ride was just about over. When we arrived to the Greyhound bus station downtown in Chicago on Clark at Washington Boulevard, my mother or grandmother called Aunt Loretha, my grandmother’s fourth daughter.

My grandmother mothered eight children: three boys (Uncle Charles, Guyton, and David), five girls (Eleanor, who is my mother; Aunts Maria, Wilmar, Loretha, and Ellen). I don’t recall whether we took a taxi or someone picked us up from the bus station. I recall after we arrived to Aunt Loretha and Maria’s apartment, I saw my cousins—Johnny Lucas, Edward Lucas, and Martha Lucas. We were all happy to see one another again. I guess the last time we saw one another was two years or so ago. My oldest brother, and I lived with Aunt Loretha, and my mother, sister, and Raymond lived with Aunt Maria. My grandmother lived with Aunt Ellen, who is the youngest of my aunts. My mother lived with Aunt Maria a few months or so. My brother and I live with Aunt Loretha for about that same time. I recall my mother telling us that we must find an apartment soon because Uncle George, my aunt’s husband, didn’t want them staying or living with them anymore. According to my mother George was not a very nice person. He drank a lot and would say things about us to her in the rest of us tour at Maria. He would fight Aunt Maria and when he would have company over he was a very negative and ignorant things to his friends and his relatives about us.

A few months later, my mother found an apartment, and we were all very happy. I can recall the apartment; it was about two blocks away from Aunt Loretha’s and Maria’s apartment, and it was located on Maypole Street, the 2700 or 2800 block in the basement. It was very small, and we didn’t like it very much because after it would rain, water would come into the apartment running all the few clothes that we had. During the time we lived on Maypole (the West side of Chicago), my mother enrolled me and Raymond into Grant Elementary School.

Enrolling in School

My sister and brother enrolled into McKinley Elementary. Some weeks later, my mother found another apartment further East on Maple street in the 2400 block. We lived there about six months or so. Finally, my mother found an apartment in the 1400 block on West Adams Street. It was too far for Raymond and me to travel to school, so my mother transferred us to Skinner Elementary School. When I entered Skinner, I was placed in the fourth grade. I believe that I was placed into 4B. There were two fourth levels—in one room, there was 4A and then a 4B. I was placed into 4B because according to the principal, I had missed too many days out of school. I will never forget my fourth grade teacher, nor will I forget my workshop teacher. My fourth grade teacher’s name was Ms. Young. She was very beautiful, and I liked her a lot. One day, I observed her with a man friend. She later told me that he was her boyfriend. I didn’t like my workshop teacher at that time because she would give me a lot of work to do.

I liked drawing and cutting out wooden objects. I never was an artist and couldn’t draw anything. So when Ms. Grain gave me a project to complete, she said draw this picture on a clear sheet of paper. So I couldn’t; however, I traced the drawing. Ms. Grain said that’s good, now draw it larger. She knew that I had traced the drawing.

During my stay at Skinner elementary school, I had a difficult time staying in school. My family was very poor, we were on public aid, and there were a total of six of us. We only ate one meal a day, and that meal was usually beans and cornbread. On weekends we sometimes had chicken. We didn’t go to school sometimes because we didn’t have clothes to wear. Nor could we wash, and that was probably because the one room apartment we lived in (1401 West Adams Street); we had shared the bathroom with other tenants who lived on the same floor. Many times I attended school the other students would make fun of my clothing and hygiene.

I recall one year during the Christmastime the teacher asked students to write their names on a sheet of paper and place it into a jar. Each one of us would drew names from the jar and bought that person a Christmas present. I didn’t want to participate however a friend of mine convinced to. I don’t recall the classmate’s name I drew. I do, however, recall the female student who drew my name. She was a very beautiful Mexican girl named Maria Rodriguez.

She was about five feet, had a medium build, and I liked her. She was very friendly toward me. When I first noticed her, we were in a gym class. The gym teacher told all the students to take off their shoes because everyone is going to play Dodge ball. I took off my shoes and some of the other students began laughing and pointing toward my feet. I had holes in each of my socks. At this point, Maria came over to me and said don’t let them silly students upset you, their parents never taught them any respect. She placed her hands around my waist an briefly kissed me on the right cheek. I didn’t know what to do.

So she took me by the hand, and we walked anyway from the students that were laughing at me. The gym teacher didn’t say anything.

He just shook his head and said, Students are not allowed to disrespect one another, nor are they allowed to hold hands.

I’m not certain that he saw Maria kiss me on the cheek or not. Whatever the case might have been, nothing was ever said about it. A few days before Christmas break the class had a Christmas party. I was fortunate enough to buy the student’s name from a jar, Andrew, a present. I bought him a red-and-white yo-yo. Maria brought me a bar of soap, a tube of toothpaste and a toothbrush. After she handed the present to me, she smiled and said, I hope you like it.

I said thank you and walked away.

After we returned to school from Christmas break, things improved somewhat. I made a friend, named Freddy Hall. Freddie was older than most students in the class, if not in the school (fifth grade). He was very strong, and most of the students were afraid of him. Freddie could wrestle very well if he got his hands around any part of your body it was very difficult to get away.

I recall one day during recess time me in some other students for shooting marbles when all the sudden some eighth graders came running by and snatched all our marbles. Freddie was standing nearby, and I hollered to Freddie those boys took my marbles. Freddie walked up to the boys (there were either two or three of them) and demanded that they return the marbles to me or they would wish that they had never been born. I thought at that time Freddie was going to get whipped. The boys looked at one another and said nothing. They then reached into their pockets and handed the marbles to Freddy and walked away. Freddie walked over to me, and the other boys and handed our marbles. Freddy wanted to talk to me about letting people push me around. He said most of the students in this school are punks, some are in gangs, but they are cowards, and if I don’t fight them, they will continue to take things away from me. I agreed.

Freddie would come by my house after school, and he would show or teach me some wrestling techniques and strikes. I said great. Freddie did come over often we would go out into the park (which was across the street from where I lived) and would show me different holds and strikes. I will never forget Freddie said the gorilla and ape are very powerful animals, he said when he gets into a fight, he acts like a gorilla, he jumps up and down, drops his shoulders and make growling sounds. He said sometimes he scares his opponents away. I recall once Freddy asked me to come to the pool hall with him, I said I’m too young to go into a pool hall. Freddy said it was okay, he knew the owner. I said okay, let’s go. I had no idea that Freddy could shoot pool as well as he did. After we arrived at the pool hall, Freddy spoke to some make assumed was the owner, then Freddy motioned for me to come on in. We began playing pool. I knew very little about pool but watched Freddy and other people playing pool, so the game appeared simple. We played for a while (two hours or so), and I had to go home. I told Freddy that I would see him at school tomorrow. Then I left.

The next day of school, Freddy was absent. I asked some of the other students has they seen Freddy today. They said no—I became a little worried. So after school, I went by Freddy’s house and called out, Freddy, Freddy, are you there?

After about five minutes, someone came to the door and said, What do you want?

I didn’t recognize the figure because I was looking from the sunlight into the shadows. The person in the doorway was Freddy.

He said, What’s up, little blood?

I said, I thought you were coming to school today.

Freddy said, Man, I was but his girlfriend came over, and they decided to miss school today.

I think her name was Tina.

Freddy said, You think I was pulling your leg, don’t you?

Freddy called her. "Tina, Tina, come out here for a minute. I want you to meet someone.

Tina came out and said, Hello, I’m Tina. You must be Freddy’s little friend who he has been teaching to fight and play pool.

I said, Yes, I’m he.

Tina was tall and dark-skinned, a little heavy around the waist. She looked older than Freddy. After a little while, I told Freddy and Tina I had to go. So Freddy and Tina walked with me part of the way, and then we separated. I would see Freddy in school very little—one day Freddy told me that he was going to drop out of school and get a job and that he was too old to stay in school anyway. After Freddy left school, I didn’t see him very much anymore. Most time I saw him, it was at the pool hall or sometimes in the park talking to girls. As the school year came to a close, many of the students in my class (eighth grade) was about to graduate. I didn’t graduate with my class because I missed too many days of school for reasons stated above. I didn’t, however, attend the practicing sessions.

On graduation day, I recall sitting in the auditorium with some of the other students who didn’t graduate. I felt very bad—I knew that I should have been on stage with A. C. Carr, John Tucker, and Benny Seldon, but that was not to be. I was told by Mr. Black, the principal, that I would graduate in January or June of next year. That wasn’t to be.

One day the principal called me into his office. When I arrived there, Mr. Black informed me that I could not graduate from Mark Skinner Elementary School because I was too old and that I missed too many days out of school. He said that I could still graduate, but it would be from Logan Continuation School. He said that my mother had already been notified and my transfer would be sent to Logan in a few days. I was devastated. All this time, I was hoping to graduate in a year or so, my grades had started to improve, so had my attendance, but none of this mattered now. The rules, according to Mr. Black, state that I could no longer remain a student at Skinner School. So I left with a broken heart and much sadness. My friends were all sad for me as well. A few weeks later, my mother took me to register at Logan. During registration week, we discovered that I would only be required to attend classes once a week. The remaining days, I could be looking for a job or working. Again, I was devastated. We completed the required forms and left.

If memory serves me correctly, the day that I was to be in attendance at Logan was on Mondays. It reported to Logan for about a month. It was very difficult going there. Logan was located a long way from where we lived. I had to take two buses. Most of the student were larger and older than me. There as a large number of gangs and many problems coming and leaving the school so after a month or so I dropped out. I was as if society want me to drop out, because my mother would ask for help with things such as school that was closer, car fare, safety, and school supplies. I received car fare for two weeks or so. It became extremely difficult to remain in school so I never marched in an elementary school graduation. In fact, I never graduated from elementary school. However, later in my life, after encountering many problems, I came back and surpassed or accomplished goals that no one thought that I would, including yours truly (me). These accomplishments will be discussed in later chapters.

Veola Tucker (My Sister)

George Lattimore, my uncle by marriage, attempted to sexually harass her. One day in 1947, in Chicago, George exposed himself to her. Veola became very frightened and started to cry. She was only about six or seven years old.

My mother had sent Veola to Chicago in 1947 or 1948. She lived with Aunt Maria and her husband. She stayed about one year, then returned to Mississippi. Shortly, we relocated to another part of Mississippi called the Buck Eye—Mother Plantation. A few years later, Veola returned to Chicago. In 1954, during the time that Emmett Till was murdered, Veola and Robert both lived with Loretha, the third aunt. A few months later, the remainder of the family moved to Chicago. The later part of 1955, my sister became a Jehovah’s Witness.

In 1966, she studied a few years before accepting the believed. For many years, she had a tough many different individuals about her faith. I felt at that time after she became a witness that the family, especially the relationship between her and I dissipated somewhat. She, on occasion, talked to me about Jehovah. I didn’t listen because it being a different persuasion. I would tell her my opinion about God. She is a serious server of Jehovah. She would not change nor would I, however, as time passed we started to listen and respect one another’s beliefs. Whether we accepted the other’s opinion or not. After many years have passed, we do listen and share one another’s beliefs. Whether we accepted the other’s opinion or not. I have gone to a number of assemblies and memorials with my sister and her daughter (not to please them) but to learn as much as I could about the Jehovah’s Witness teachings. I would tell my sister and others that I have no problems with Jehovah, but I do have many problems with man because man, in my opinion, have corrupted many of the positive things about how and when we should serve God.

After dropping out of Logan School, there wasn’t much to do. So all I did, along with some of my friends—Haron Brooks (Slick), Clarence Jonson and Ben Ward (Fat) was play basketball and baseball almost every day. We would get up around nine or ten and meet at Skinner Park. Skinner Park has several basketball courts and baseball diamonds. Most times, Slick and Clarence would come by my house first, and they would call for me to come out to play ball. After I would come downstairs Fat would not be with them.

Where is Fat? (We all called Ben fat because he was fat.) I don’t know why we called Haron Brooks Slick—I think that was his nickname from his parents. Clarence and I had no such names. Fat is still at home in the bed because he is too lazy to get up this early in the morning (eight thirty or nine o’clock).

I said, Okay, we will go get him around twelve or so.

We didn’t always only play ball. There were occasions where we did go looking for employment. I recall one day Slick, Clarence, and myself went job hunting. We were walking East on Jackson Boulevard near Loomis. We went into this factory.

This white man asked, May I help you, fellow?

Slick said, Yes, can you direct us to the employment office?

The man said, I will do better than that. I will escort you there.

He walked us to the office and told the office manager that we wanted to see her. I don’t remember the office manager’s name however, I do recall that she was a white woman, very beautiful—about five feet three inches tall, of medium build, and had a very nice attitude.

She said, I am the office manager. How may I help you handsome young men?

Before Clarence or I could respond, Slick said, Yes, we are looking for a job.

Slick was always quick to respond to questions from beautiful females, and it didn’t matter their ages or races. This was a good quality on Slick’s behalf, however, I didn’t want Slick speaking for me. I felt that I could talk for myself. Many times when we are alone, I would tell Slick when we are out seeking employment or trying to get a date with a female do not speak for me. He would agree not to do this, but the very next time we were out seeking a job or something, Slick would do the same thing. I guess that’s just the way Slick was. Sometimes he catch himself and say, Oops, I forgot, I’m sorry, my fault, go ahead. Everyone would laugh, including the interviewers.

As the days led into weeks, weeks into months and months into years, my friendship with Slick, Clarence and Fat continued. I didn’t see Fat as much as I saw Slick and Clarence. Slick and Clarence formed a special bond. We went almost everywhere together.