The Crystal Pumpkin

By Crystal Arlene Kuykendall

The Crystal Pumpkin is an upbeat, uplifting, compelling story which takes the reader on an emotional, historical journey through eighteen years in the life of the author. The book captures the essence of the culture, experiences, struggles, music, entertainment, art, poetry, religion, charm, and nuances of Black life, Black love, and Black survival. Importantly, the author provides a riveting portrayal of events in local and national history as seen through the lens of a young Black girl who grows into adulthood in Chicago. The characters are real, and their lives, like their stories, are unforgettable. The lessons provided are universal, and the messages are moving and memorable. This delightful semi-autobiography has adventure, mystery, intrigue, shock, comedy, crime, drama, tragedy, and a scintillating love story. It provides a factual account of an era that featured struggles for individual and collective identity, purpose, and social justice during an earlier and simpler time. The stories unfold as the book, divided into three parts, explodes with historical developments and personal triumphs born of tragedies. The author explores the dawning of her identity amid self-doubt, family secrets, childhood fantasies, the specter of racism, and her educational and professional challenges as a public-school teacher and university faculty. Her pursuit of education and her explorations of social justice, civil rights, and antiwar endeavors are chronicled in her experiences of a "new day" when she comes of age during a tumultuous time. Her activism, high school and college experiences, and travels to the Bahamas and Western Europe mold her dedication before shocking and tragic developments alter the trajectory of her life. The reader will experience the educational, social, and personal challenges, struggles, setbacks, and victories of main characters during an unforgettable era. The treasured stories and sentiments shared are unique and timeless.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662447570

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The Crystal Pumpkin

Crystal Arlene Kuykendall

Copyright © 2023 Crystal Arlene Kuykendall

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING

Conneaut Lake, PA

First originally published by Page Publishing 2023

This book is based on historical events, developments, and mysteries that occurred in eighteen years in the life of the author. These events take place during a unique period—an earlier and simpler time, perhaps. Yet the challenges, issues, growing pains, personal triumphs, and tragedies cut across generations and eras. The characters and experiences in this story are timeless. Importantly, the historical accounts, universal lessons learned, and shared stories are profound. While there are a few endearing instances of childhood make-believe, imagination, embellishment, and fantasy, the characters are all real and the happenings are all true. In a few cases, however, time sequences have been altered, and in some instances, names have been changed…to protect the guilty.

ISBN 978-1-6624-4756-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-6624-4757-0 (digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dawn

A New Beginning

Another World

Love at First Fright

Mass Exodus

The Twelfth of Never

Colored Dreams

Theyliketoneverquitshoutinhallelujah

Splitsville

Cool Kids of K Town

The End of the Beginning

Day

A New Day

El Bueno, El Malo y El Feo

Surprise! Surprise!

Coming of Age

Death at an Early Age

Schoolgirl Crush

Halls of Ivy

Dawg Days

A Very Good Year

Chapter 20

A New Me

Dusk

Love Without End

This Is My Beloved

All in the Game

What a Wonderful World!

Love and Happiness

A Love Supreme

Power, Passion, Pride, and Pain

Sweet Sorrow

Dedication

About the Author

Book 1

Dawn

I don't want anyone ever writing about my horrid childhood for they will never understand that all the while, I was quite happy.

—Nikki Giovanni

Chapter 1

A New Beginning

There was a time when meadows, grove and stream,

To earth and every common sight…

To me did seem,

Appareled in celestial light…

—William Wordsworth, Intimacies of Immortality

Reflections of Early Childhood

The shrill screams, sobbing, and wailing of weeping women could still be heard. Her mind would not release those sounds of deep anguish and outrage. Her heart ached continuously with a heaviness that once again caused another sleepless night. Despite the elusive sleep she coveted, she sat straight up in bed as the twilight of dawn blanketed the small room. She mustered the strength to face what was indeed a new day. The bright yellow sun was still rising on this unseasonably warm September morning.

The grass in the vast yard on the side of the building, along with the grass on the beautifully adorned smaller backyard behind 1419 S. Avers, never seemed greener. Only the sound of birds chirping softly broke the serenity of mid-morning slumber. A nest of robins sat smugly on one of the thick, sturdy branches of the large, majestic oak tree that shadowed this foliage-rich backyard. The smell of late summer was still in the air.

Surrounded by a five-foot-tall weather-worn and graying wooden fence, both the side yard and the backyard had been the scene of endless summer days. Here, the atmosphere was often pervasive with the sounds of playful children's banter. Calls from concerned adults to be careful rang intermittently as they were drowned by the sound of child play. Now, however, without the loving barks from a playful white sheep dog and the boisterous laughter of children, both yards were still with only the sounds of silence.

Bordered by bricks that had been carefully painted yellow, red, white, and orange, the majestic oak tree had become a protector and giant friend for the children who frequented this unique backyard. Tucked between its thickest branches was a small tree house, built by Joseph Campbell, oldest son of Reverend John Dandridge (aka JD) Campbell. During frequent visits to the home of their grandparents, JD and his wife, Georgia (affectionately known as Big Pa and Little Mother) all twenty-two grandchildren enjoyed hours of fun in this unique tree house. JD bought this building in 1949 but moved out in 1954, shortly after his beloved white sheep dog, Frisky, died. For memorable years until Frisky's death, this small treehouse and this large majestic oak tree provided a welcome escape for the beloved Campbell grandchildren.

The calm inside the building and the serenity of this soft late summer morning belied the unsettled emotions of Ellen, J.D.'s youngest daughter, who was now living with her twin sister, Helen. When Reverend Campbell vacated his building, he rented the first-floor apartment to an old White janitor, Mr. Bud. The second-floor apartment was the home of Helen and her two children. Ellen was staying with Helen during what she hoped would be a temporary split from Coochie, the father of her two small girls, Crystal (nicknamed Pumpkin) and Carlene, known as Li'l Bit because of her tiny frame.

As the aroma of fresh-cut grass cascaded through the open screened window, Ellen was still tormented by visions of the lifeless body she had viewed over a week ago. She had gotten out of bed and made her way to the kitchen. Now, three hours later, as she gazed out of the kitchen window at the colorful, inviting backyard, she fought back the tears. She thought she had gotten over the gut-wrenching angst she felt when thoughts came to mind of Emmett Till, the fourteen-year-old Chicago boy who had been brutally murdered on August 28 in Money, Mississippi. Those thoughts, along with the sadness over the mutually agreed upon separation she and Coochie were having, made restful sleep an unattainable dream.

Just a year ago, she and Coochie had danced in the living room of their modestly furnished apartment, three blocks away, on Christiana. Coochie had crooned the words of Ellen's favorite song, Sincerely, by the Moonglows:

Sincerely, don't you know that I love you, I'll do anything for you…

All you gotta do is be mine, mine, mine, mine…

At that time, she felt that she and Coochie would never and could never separate. Yet less than a year later, issues had driven them apart temporarily. Although there was no denying the fact that Ellen missed her man, she was not pining or whining. She was certainly no longer humming the words of Lena Horne's Stormy Weather (since me and my man ain't together) as she had just a little over a week ago.

Born in Chicago in 1930, Ellen grew up as the Great Depression dawned. Throughout colored communities, countless families struggled mightily due to a lack of finite resources. With a dearth of finances putting a stranglehold on her family's existence, Ellen's childhood evolved around her father's church, New Salem Baptist. It was at New Salem where the small but growing community came together. Ellen and her siblings were raised by strict religious parents who were the pillars of this small but prolific colored community.

Sitting in the kitchen, as she gazed at the still rising sun, Ellen reflected on how Chicago had become the family home for nearly forty years. Shortly after JD and Bertha Turner wed in Bogalusa, Louisiana, in 1912, JD decided to move up south to raise a family. While living in Bogalusa, Louisiana, he and Bertha became proud parents of two beautiful baby girls, Mary Anne in February 1915 and Wilkie in September 1916. Shortly after Wilkie's birth, JD and Bertha packed everything they owned into a small pickup truck and headed north. They left Bogalusa in the dead of night while the babies slept.

Like many other coloreds who were part of the First Great Migration of coloreds from the South to Chicago, JD drove nonstop. It was well known to all coloreds that lynching was a certainty if they were caught on the roads before sunset. When JD and Bertha arrived in Chicago, the small family lived in a walk-up flat over a clothing store on Halsted and Roosevelt. JD and Bertha quickly discovered that the multi-ethnic neighborhood known as Jewtown was an ideal place to raise a family. They were joined daily by other southern migrants who found life in Chicago a welcome, ideal change.

An animated, entertaining, and beloved young preacher, JD became quite popular to his congregation, his community, and a growing cadre of customers. To supplement his minister's salary, he sold coal and homemade wine to business owners. His beautiful bride, Bertha, became known throughout Jewtown for the sweetbread she made daily. As the neighborhood welcomed more coloreds from the South, JD was known as Rev to all, including the White business owners. Blessed with their first boy, Joseph Bertrum, in 1920, after two miscarriages, the Campbells added Frank Wesley in 1922, Sylvester Vanderpoel in 1925, and Edward Missouri in 1928. The middle names of his sons were the last names of JD's most generous customers.

By the time Edward was born, JD had split from Zion Hill Baptist Church, where he was assistant pastor, and founded his own church, New Salem Baptist. With neighborhood stature and a growing family, he purchased a large wooden home on the corner of Thirteenth and Morgan, directly across the street from the police station. Known as the Big House by all their family and friends, this new residence became the community gathering place. After church on Sundays, neighbors gathered for food prepared by Bertha, the community matriarch. Gatherings were not limited to holidays or Sunday afternoons. Neighbors stopped by daily for food, prayers, sweetbread, homemade wine, conversation, comradery and church news.

For many coloreds from this initial migration, Chicago was a safe haven. There were manufacturing jobs where men without high school diplomas could still make good money. Like so many other migrant coloreds who brought their families to Chicago, JD also brought with him flourishing hopes and big dreams. Although everyone who migrated to Chicago during that time had big dreams, JD was determined to make his dreams come true—with God's guidance, of course! His biggest dream, however, was that he would leave a legacy of prosperous and productive descendants.

Shortly after that First Migration, parallel worlds, occupied by Chicago's growing colored population, quickly emerged. Ellen had grown up in a world of rules and limitations, enforced by conservative neighbors, strict teachers, preachers, and church folk. With her seven siblings, she attended church all day on Sundays. For her, there was Usher Board rehearsal on Friday nights and Bible study on Wednesdays. Bertha's death in 1943, when Ellen and her twin sister, Helen, were only thirteen years old, meant Ellen had to face her teen years as a motherless child. Her dad would marry Georgia Carter, twenty-eight years his junior and just four years older than sister, Mary, a few weeks before Ellen's nineteenth birthday. However, until then, Ellen's world evolved around her daddy's church world.

Yet it was during her later motherless teen years that Ellen also managed to become familiar with other parallel worlds for Chicago's coloreds. There was an underworld of loose-living partygoers, players, lawbreakers, and hipsters. Fascinated by their lifestyles, Ellen befriended most of her underworld neighbors. She moved freely in and out of both parallel worlds. She was as comfortable with the hell-raisers as she was with the holy rollers. Those parallel worlds intersected in the Brooks Projects, where Ellen came of age. In this community, blue-collar holy rollers and hell-raisers coexisted. While sitting in Helen's kitchen window here on Avers Street now, the Brooks Projects, bordered by Roosevelt Road (on the north side), Racine (on the east side), Fourteenth Street (on the south side), and Loomis (on the west side), seemed farther away than they, in fact, were. No matter what world folks in the Brooks Projects occupied, however, they had pride in their west side dwellings. Every front and backyard was uniquely decorated with manicured grass, colorful flowers, small bushes, and colorful bricks and stones as neighbors tried to outdo one another.

Built in the mid-1940s, the Brooks Projects housed army veterans, postal workers, bus drivers, hair stylists, barbers, factory workers, and of course, teachers and preachers. As the decade of the 1940s ended, Ellen and Coochie were staying here temporarily with big sister Mary. At the age of nineteen, Ellen was advised that she required constant attention during what had become a very difficult pregnancy. Her daily prayer was that this growing baby in her belly would be born healthy. She prayed that the new life inside of her would have everything she lacked—especially an entry into the world of successful coloreds Ellen saw occasionally.

It was Sunday, December 11, 1949. Big Sister Mary was having a festive Christmas party. Folks danced, ate baskets of fried chicken and fried fish, and partied like it was a Friday night after payday. They danced and clapped to the music of Wynonie Harris: "Have you heard the news, there's good rockin' tonight. But it was while swaying her hips (so low she couldn't get back up!) with Coochie to one of her favorite Duke Ellington tunes, Creole Love Call," that Ellen felt her water break.

"Jesus, help me! Coochie, your son is coming—now!" The boy she hoped for was to be named after Coochie's father, Robert. Even though the baby wasn't due until January, Ellen was thrilled that he was coming early.

I guess you heard the music and knew you was tardy to the party but you didn't want to miss it, Ellen would tell Pumpkin years later in trying to explain her premature birth.

It was snowing wildly that night, and there was no time to get Ellen to a hospital. Doctor Rogers came within minutes after being called. He delivered that baby girl right there on Mary's kitchen table. Even though it wasn't a boy, Coochie was proud and happy to have a light-orange baby girl who looked just like him. In his world, he was surely king, for now he had a real princess. Mary insisted on naming the child Crystal. Because Ellen had given her two sons Godfrey and Darnell the nicknames Pookey and Snookey, however, Wilkie decided that Pumpkin should be the nickname for this bright orange-colored baby.

The entire Campbell clan—along with the many friends within the parallel worlds Ellen and Coochie occupied—were ecstatic over the birth of Ellen and Coochie's first child. Ellen started wondering, in which parallel world would her new baby live? Unlike her and Coochie and her siblings, most coloreds knew—without being told—where they stood, where they belonged and which of these parallel worlds they could enter. Demarcation lines to identify these parallel worlds were nonexistent, but social and emotional lines were clearly drawn. Coochie and Ellen and her sibs frequently rubbed shoulders with otherworld coloreds.

Ellen's oldest sister, Mary, a widow and superb seamstress, lived in the world of high fashion. This world consisted of proper-talking colored women who frequented fashion shows and church teas. These women often flaunted their tailored clothes and material possessions. Mary did alterations at a downtown Jewish clothing store. A member of two social clubs, she was often asked to be narrator at many of these fashion shows. Her club members in this world of high fashion wore big hats and white gloves every day. They also played bridge weekly. Although Mary would never admit it, she actually envied coloreds who lived in other parallel worlds, where the haughtiness and pretense she witnessed daily in her world were nonexistent.

Oldest brother, Joe, the super fine bachelor, had just become a precinct captain. He had now entered the parallel world of politics and power. In this world, back-room deals, smoke-filled rooms, dinner parties, and the favor of crooked Chicago politicians were rampant. You could only be a part of this world if you were politically connected by family ancestry, grassroots political leadership, or the frequency of large campaign gifts and contributions. People in this world often intersected with the worlds of high fashion and high education.

The other worlds occupied by Chicago coloreds weren't as pretentious. Ellen's second youngest brother, Sylvester, was one of many union organizers and held power in the unpretentious world of blue-collar coloreds. A follower of A. Phillip Randolph, founder of the Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters, Syl was a crusader for unions and equality for little people. In this world of mostly uneducated, grassroots, hardworking people, there was an intersection with the world of low-class holy rollers and the world of homebound homemakers. Married sisters Wilkie and Helen belonged to this world and socialized with other married blue-collar women who spent time all day performing domestic chores, sewing, baking, gossiping, and watching their favorite daytime soap operas, The Edge of Night and As the World Turns. The women in this unpretentious world were known publicly by the names of their blue-collar husbands.

Ellen's brother Frank lived in the world of business and brains. This world intersected with the world of high education for Chicago coloreds. Frank's large ten-room apartment, which dwarfed the tiny apartments of his west side siblings, was in the neighborhood, Hyde Park, on the lakefront of Chicago's south side. Entertainers, highly respected business owners, college graduates, doctors, lawyers, teachers, politicians, and professional squares lived in huge mansions and apartments in Hyde Park and neighboring Kenwood. Frank was also a part of the parallel world of upper-crust holy-rollers who attended Chicago's largest colored churches.

Frank was the pastor of a double storefront church with less than two hundred members but his wife, DeLois Barrett Campbell, was a world-renowned gospel singer. Second only to Mahalia Jackson in popularity and national appeal, she was beloved. Frank was an up-and-coming tailor who made exquisite Vogue suits and dresses for upscale women and men's suits from GQ for Chicago's wealthiest men, regardless of the source of that wealth. He and DeLois could afford to live in Hyde Park and rub elbows with Chicago's colored elite. Their Hyde Park Christmas parties became legendary.

Ellen revered the coloreds who lived in Frank's world. However, she couldn't deny that she was more fascinated by the worlds known best by her youngest brother, Ed. She enjoyed the company and camaraderie she and Ed had, most weekends, with coloreds her daddy had warned against. She accompanied Ed as he moved freely among the many genuine, down-to-earth friends they had in the parallel worlds of hell-raisers and the colored underworld. In both worlds, there were forbidden/illegal activities. While Mary, Wilkie, Joe, Syl, and Helen were occasional visitors to the world of hell-raisers, Ed's friends lived here exclusively. Ellen became a frequent visitor to the world of hell-raisers. But while she could not revere them, she, like Ed, was fascinated by the wealthy Blacks who were a part of the colored underworld.

Unfortunately, in the world of hell-raisers, dreams were in short supply. Hell-raisers were nothing like the domestics—doormen, garbage collectors, janitors, crossing guards, barbers, hairstylists, bus drivers, postmen, and blue-collar workers who lived paycheck to paycheck. The people who lived in this world of hell-raisers, loved life after dark, however. It didn't matter whether they were unemployed or underemployed. They welcomed nighttime escape from whatever boring, routine weekday realities they endured. Coloreds in the underworld, however, thought employment of any kind was for losers only.

Coloreds in the blue-collar world and the world of hell-raisers regularly sought out the conmen, hustlers, pimps, numbers runners, poker players, drug dealers, loan sharks, and ex-cons who comprised the hip but sometimes dangerous colored underworld. Yet, the monetary success of these underworld coloreds could not be denied. Ellen and Ed loved moving among coloreds in these intersecting worlds. However, while she admitted her fascination with those in the colored underworld, Ellen wanted no knowledge of or any parts of this world for her two daughters. In fact, she wanted much more for them than coloreds with blue-collar incomes in these parallel worlds could ever hope to have in their lifetimes.

Her dream was that the two precious daughters she often cradled in her strong chocolate brown arms, Pumpkin and Li'l Bit (born thirteen months apart), would grow into adulthood in the parallel worlds Ellen most admired but could never enter on her own. These worlds were best known by Joe and Frank and were the worlds of highly educated coloreds, well-respected professionals, doctors, lawyers, teachers, business owners, famous entertainers, and aspiring politicians. She wanted them to mix and mingle with coloreds in other parallel worlds (excluding the colored underworld) but receive the formal education that would be their passports to that closed world of high education where business and brains, power and politics intersected.

The death of Mamie Till's only child caused Ellen to think of these parallel worlds and the many hopes and dreams parents in those worlds may have had as they sat over day-old bassinettes. She knew the dreams she had for her girls would only come true if she was willing to take bold steps in this journey called life. With this young boy's brutal murder, Ellen couldn't help but think about the nation her daughters would encounter as adults. Her stomach churned with each thought of courageous Mamie Till. The before the murder picture of Emmett had appeared in newspapers nationwide. In that picture, Ellen saw an innocent but self-assured boy with limitless potential.

Convinced that Emmett's obvious self-assurance had gotten him killed, Ellen wondered if her daughters could escape the early physical and emotional deaths of countless coloreds whose self-assurance didn't stop them from having shattered hopes, deferred dreams, and early deaths. Life in the parallel world that her brother Frank knew might be the only way for her daughters to avoid such a fate. So Ellen thought again, as she had most nights this week, of that dead boy's body—and the night she first realized that perhaps her daughters could have their dreams, and her dreams for them, fulfilled. She had to make certain that they would get the education necessary for life in the world of Chicago's most elite.

Although separated, Coochie and Ellen had a few special family outings over the summer. As she was doing this very morning, she had thought often of their last family outing on Labor Day, one full week ago. Because both girls had chicken pox, Ellen kept them away from all children. That Labor Day, she, Coochie, and her girls enjoyed a family picnic in Douglas Park. Later that night, Coochie loaded Ellen and the girls back in his brown Ford and headed to the south side, where he and Ellen would view the mutilated, bloated body of Emmett Till.

Pumpkin assumed that their dad was taking them to the movies that night and innocently asked, "Where we goin?'

Y'all gon' ride with me and yo' mama and wait in the car while she and I go see Mr. Janney.

Ellen and Coochie's longtime friend, Albert Janney, was the owner of a funeral home. It was a long drive. When they reached the intersection of Fortieth and State Street, Pumpkin noticed what appeared to be thousands of colored folks, and even some Whites, standing in a very, very long line stretching blocks waiting to enter the Roberts Temple Church of God. Coochie parked his car on Fortieth Street, near State, and before he locked it, he told Pumpkin to lie down on the back seat with Li'l Bit, who had already fallen asleep during the long drive.

We won't be long, big girl, Ellen said. Just lay next to your sister and try to sleep until we come back out.

Okay, Mother, Pumpkin said, but she knew two things were not true. Judging from all of the people in this very long line, she knew her wait would be long. She also knew she was too curious to go to sleep even though she lay down anyway.

As her parents crossed the street, with their backs to her, she raised her head to see the huge crowd. To her surprise, however, Ellen and Coochie did not get in that long line. Instead, a small door leading into the church from the ground level of the street opened, and she saw Mr. Janney beckoning Ellen and Coochie to enter. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt, black tie, and white gloves. Pumpkin's eyes shifted from those entering the church to those leaving the church from a larger ground-level exit door. She was shocked to see most were in tears. Some wailed and sobbed while being held. Others vomited on State Street, and a few women fainted. Quite a few men cussed and shouted angrily.

As she watched these strangers react with wide eyes, Pumpkin suddenly saw her daddy and Mr. Janney leading her mother out of the same door they used to enter. Only now, Ellen too was sobbing. What could she have seen? Pumpkin wondered. What was going on inside that church? Pumpkin quickly lay back down as Coochie opened the front door and a still-sobbing Ellen climbed into the front seat.

Thanks so much, Al, he said to Mr. Janney.

Aw, man, you know I'm glad to do it. Y'all would be in that line for hours and that wouldn't be too cool with these girls out here. You gon' be all right, Ellen?

It was just gruesome! Ellen sobbed. Oh my Lord! That poor mother! Lord, how could people be so cruel! She cried more as the men waited silently. I'm okay, she finally said as the tears stopped temporarily. I'll be fine.

As she gazed out of the kitchen window now, a week later, Ellen remembered crying uncontrollably in Coochie's arms that night. As sad as she was during the long drive back to the west side, Ellen had, nonetheless, drawn strength from Mamie Till. Emmett was buried on September 6, and ever since that date, Ellen had prayed even more fervently for the strength she needed to be a great mother. More immediately, she prayed for the strength to deal with this new transition in her life. If Mamie Till could face the future without a son permanently, Ellen could surely face each day without her man temporarily.

She may not have been a success at many things, but she was determined to be a success at motherhood. With this big dream for her big girl, Ellen was more than ready to make this big day the best day of Pumpkin's short life. It was already the most important for it was to be the start of their long journey to the parallel world of high education of which Ellen had so often dreamed. Just two months shy of her eighteenth birthday when she graduated from Lucy Flower High School, a mostly White high school on Chicago's north side, Ellen was only JD's third child to become a high school graduate. Brother Frank and oldest sister Mary were the other two.

High school teachers and counselors told Ellen to consider attending a junior college where she could learn to be a secretary. In hindsight, although she often wished she had gone to junior college, she accepted the fact that it wasn't meant to be. Today, however, Pumpkin's success journey would begin. Ellen's secret daily prayer also began. Her dream was that this first day of kindergarten for this precious little girl would lead to a real college and a professional career.

Summer had ended, as always, too soon. Despite the separation from her man, Ellen and her girls had enjoyed the best fun that Chicago summers could provide and the many sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of west side city life. Coloreds on that side of town truly believed that the west side was the best side—the place where all of Chicago's coolest coloreds lived. Many of these were migrant coloreds from the South, and some, like the Campbell clan, had already lived in this city for two generations. Not to be mistaken for the coloreds they considered the stuck-up south siders, west side coloreds also created strong community connections in every neighborhood. On the west side, there was a dearth of high education coloreds and a smattering of those who had gained entry in the world of politics and power. In the communities on the west side, there were mostly blue-collar workers, lower-class holy rollers, homemakers, and hell-raisers.

During sultry summer months in the midsummer, outdoor fun was plentiful and lasted well into the soft summer nights! West side residents saw daily visits from the watermelon man, the ice man, and the men who drove the fresh fruit and vegetable trucks to every neighborhood. To the delight of children, however (as well as a few adults), the ice cream man came around twice a day. On the hottest days, there were unplugged fire hydrants that cooled kids, some only wearing their panties or shorts. In the large community pools in neighborhood parks, playful kids enjoyed water games with old and new friends. In all neighborhoods, most girls jumped Double Dutch and played hopscotch. Boys played Cowboys and Indians. Pumpkin would turn into a real tomboy, spending all her summer playtime with her six older boy cousins as the fifties unfolded.

In most west side neighborhoods, during the warm weather months, you'd find neighborhood doo-woppers on nearly every street corner. Doo-woppers were groups of four to five teen boys who wore greasy silk do-rags (to slick down a heavily greased head of processed hair) while standing on street corners, singing the latest slow jams or love songs. They delighted some of their neighbors but irritated many more, especially those who had to sleep in order to be fresh for early morning jobs. The doo-woppers would stand in circles, and as they crooned, they would pass to one another cigarettes or weed and brown paper bags covering bottles of Richard's Wild Irish Rose. During the summer of 1955, the most popular doo-wop street corner song was Smokey Joe's Café by the Robins. But it was the smokey apartment on Christiana that Ellen thought of now, for it was there, over a year ago, that her life went up in flames as the split with Coochie began.

Before that night, everything had been perfect between her and Coochie in their small apartment on Christiana. She couldn't even remember why they were screaming at each other that night when they argued. Li'l Bit was asleep, but she would find out years later that Pumpkin was awake that night and could hear her and Coochie's angry voices.

Don't look for me to come back! Coochie said before he slammed the door and left. Ellen knew that like always, he'd surely return. Years later, Pumpkin would tell Ellen that she faked sleep that night as she listened to Ellen crying while talking to the two policemen who arrived quickly after being called. The police came into Pumpkin's bedroom and appeared to be looking for someone or something as they shined their flashlights into her tightly closed eyes. They left as quickly as they arrived. Ellen then called her sister, Helen, and brother, Joe. Although her children would wonder why for years after that night, Ellen did what she felt she had to do. Leaving Coochie seemed unthinkable at first. However, within hours, accompanied by Joe, in the dead of the night, Ellen and her girls left that cute li'l Christiana apartment. Ellen recalled the tears in Pumpkin's eyes the first morning she woke up in Helen's apartment after the split. She seemed confused as she looked around and sadly asked, Mother, where's Daddy?

Oh, he had to take care of some things. You'll see him soon. You know your daddy can't spend too much time away from his babies.

Are we going to live here with Aunt Helen now?

Yes, big girl, but just for a little while.

Is Daddy gonna live here too?

No, big girl. He's gonna live at our old place for a while until he finds someplace for all of us to live. Now don't you go worryin' 'bout yo' daddy. He's going to be fine, and we are going to be fine. We'll all be together again soon.

Ellen recalled the pain she had seen in Pumpkin's huge puppy-dog eyes that day. She was well aware that Pumpkin secretly hated the fact that her daddy did not live with them anymore. Even though Ellen consented to Coochie's daily visits with his babies, she knew that Pumpkin, more so than Li'l Bit, missed how he played with the girls, tickled them, and laughed with them. She knew Pumpkin missed hugging Coochie when he tucked them into bed at night. She knew they missed not seeing Coochie's face every morning when they awakened and painfully admitted she missed him too.

Coochie had a way of making even sad days happy. Every hour Ellen and the girls spent with him was a rare and wonderful experience for them all. Pumpkin, especially, missed everything about her daddy, watching him shave each morning and smelling his Old Spice cologne in the bathroom. She missed watching him try to prepare breakfast and even missed eating his lumpy Malt-o-Meal cereal. She even missed seeing Coochie's Race Track Green Sheets spread out on the dining room table.

Now on this Wednesday, September 14, as Ellen gazed out of the kitchen window and fought back tears, she drew strength once again from Mamie Till's tragedy. Yes, she still missed Coochie, but she was alive now with a new resolve. She was hopeful and was also more than ready for brighter days. With this hope, she quickly walked back into the living room and sat on the sofa bed where her two daughters slept. Lovingly, she stroked Pumpkin's forehead and reflected on her biggest dream and the start, this day, of a new life for both of them.

Wake up, Sleeping Beauty! You start school in less than two hours! Ellen whispered excitedly. Her twin sister, Helen, and her two children, Jennifer and Petey, were sleeping behind the closed door of the apartment's only bedroom. Pumpkin opened her large almond-colored brown eyes, rubbed them sleepily, and gazed into the smiling face of her pretty dark-chocolate mother. She was also excited that this day had come at long last! Tall for her age and often mistaken for a seven- or eight-year-old, Pumpkin was always being laughed at by older kids for being the tallest kid in the hood who had yet to start school.

As a mile-wide grin lit up her face, the empty space where her two front teeth had once been revealed pink gums. With the excitement usually reserved for a trip to Riverview Amusement Park, Pumpkin leaped out of bed. She almost stumbled as she raced to the small bathroom. After washing quickly in the bathroom sink, she put on the print purple cotton dress her daddy had bought for this special day. Wow, she thought, I do look smart!

With the small school tote bag her mother had given her hanging over her bony right shoulder, Pumpkin was ready. She had never learned to read or do arithmetic. She couldn't count past twenty and sometimes messed up saying her ABCs. Yet the contents of her school tote bag (a brand-new composition book, two sharpened pencils, and a box of eight crayons) changed everything. Ellen thought about teaching Pumpkin some of the things many kindergarteners knew when they started school but decided to let the professional teachers do it.

As everyone else in the apartment continued to sleep, Ellen and Pumpkin hurried quietly down the steps. They raced past the first-floor apartment. Once outside, they greeted the bright outdoor sun. They passed Old Mr. Bud as he pulled weeds from the front yard of the apartment building. He couldn't resist teasing, Ain't it a little late for you to be goin' to school?

Ellen acknowledged him and smiled as she answered for her daughter, No, Mr. Bud, she's right on time. Looking straight ahead, her gate quickened. Pumpkin ignored him completely and kept gazing at the school building she would soon enter. She felt as though she and her mother couldn't walk fast enough. With a brisk pace, they passed a group of teen boys just standing around on the corner, and Pumpkin wondered why those boys weren't in school.

Although it was still pretty early in the morning, the time of day didn't stop Mabel Smith, one of Ellen's poker buddies who lived in a small frame house in the middle of the 1500 block of Avers. Mabel was having a sho' 'nuff party on this sunny Wednesday morning. As Ellen and Pumpkin approached her house, they could hear the words of Big Joe Turner on Miss Mabel's record player. Ellen smiled as she heard the words. Get outta that bed, wash yo' face and hands. Shake, rattle and roll. I say shake, rattle and roll. Well, you won't do right to save yo' doggone soul…

Mabel was no doubt up early fixin' breakfast for her man who had just been released after five years in prison for involuntary manslaughter. When Ellen and Pumpkin reached Sixteenth Street, a large oatmeal-colored woman in a dark blue Crossing Guard's uniform gave them an encouraging nod and a warm smile as she escorted them to the other side of the busy intersection. With no warning, Pumpkin's knees weakened. Even though she had seen this building many times before from a passing car, being this close was different. The school was bigger and scarier now, and for the first time, she felt as though a family of butterflies had taken up residence in her stomach.

Ellen felt Pumpkin's anxiety vicariously. She knew Pumpkin was apprehensive about making new friends, especially on this first day. Pumpkin was so sensitive and so self-conscious about being tall and skinny. With her two front teeth missing, Pumpkin would likely be an easy target for teasing from some of the older children. Ellen had intentionally waited until after nine o'clock to get Pumpkin to school so that she could escort her but not embarrass her. So after stopping in the main office where they were directed to Miss Goode's classroom (room 103), Ellen decided against going into the classroom. She stopped in the middle of the hallway and hugged Pumpkin one more time.

This is where Mother lets you go, big girl. Go on into that room and let Miss Goode know you are the new student in her class.

Ellen was nearly sitting on the strong legs that balanced her well-toned body. Gazing into her daughter's anxious eyes, she hugged Pumpkin as tightly as she could. She had to blink back her own hopeful tears. After the tightest embrace she could give her, Ellen released Pumpkin and hurried down the long first-floor corridor. She heard the kindergarten classroom door open, just as she reached the big double doors leading outdoors to the sunlit baby-blue sky. With a fresh Kleenex tissue, she wiped away the tears that now flowed freely.

God, please be with my baby today, she whispered, as though God were walking right beside her. She may look like a big girl, but she still just a baby.

Ellen finished her prayer as Pumpkin stood in the doorway of her kindergarten classroom. Wow! Pumpkin thought as she looked around the classroom. There were toys, games, books, bright colors, and little children everywhere. Off to the far side of the room, there were small desks with small chairs underneath. There were colorful round rugs covering three areas of the room and a chalkboard the entire length of the room. In the middle of the floor, sitting on a bright orange, yellow, and green area rug, amidst toys, books, skates, dollhouses, and at least five children who played all over her, sat a very plump but very pretty woman. The warm smile that lit up her dimpled face when her eyes met Pumpkin's told Pumpkin that she had found what would, indeed, become a true treasure, her first teacher. Miss Goode quickly rose from the carpet and hugged her new arrival. Outside, Ellen sighed, feeling that God had heard her prayer and Pumpkin was in the best hands. She looked up and praised God again. Indeed, today was the first day of a new beginning for her and the child she cherished.

Chapter 2

Another World

The glory and freshness of a dream,

It is not now as it hath been of yore,

Turn where so'er I may,

By night or by day…

The thing which I have seen,

I now see no more.

—Wordsworth

You must be Crystal! We have been waiting for you!

Pumpkin felt a little awkward that Miss Goode was making such a big deal out of her arrival. She also wondered why this lady was calling her Crystal and not Pumpkin. Everyone called her Pumpkin, except for her little sister who had called her Tunk since she was a little baby learning to talk. With a delightful smile, Miss Goode said, Class, this is Crystal Campbell. She is new to our school.

To Pumpkin's utter dismay, however, the children shrieked with laughter.

She too big to be in kinney-garten! one little boy shouted.

She bigga than my brother—an' he eight! shouted another.

As the entire class laughed heartily, Pumpkin's eyes dropped, and she lowered her head. She wanted to go back home. School would be no fun, after all. Once again, she was being laughed at for being too tall. This time the laughter was not coming from her playful boy cousins but from strangers who couldn't care less about hurting her fragile feelings.

Miss Goode squatted so she could look Pumpkin in her eyes. Until you get used to kindergarten and your new classmates, you'll just be your teacher's little helper. Stay close to me and don't let any of your classmates upset you! Soon nearly all of them will want to be your friend, she whispered.

Her reassuring smile brought instant relief. It didn't seem to matter to Miss Goode that Pumpkin's two front teeth were missing and that she was tall, awkward, clumsy, and sensitive. Pumpkin loved the warmth she felt when she was close enough to smell Miss Goode's talcum powder. She loved her new teacher's dimpled smile and the sound of her beating heart. Hugging Miss Goode was like hugging a giant marshmallow!

The class became noisier with laughter, loud chatter, and nonstop play as the morning continued. It seemed like hours had passed when Pumpkin looked up and realized that Miss Goode was giving instructions to the class. Hoping that Miss Goode would repeat those instructions, Pumpkin froze at her seat. Nothing was repeated, however, and she felt compelled to follow her classmates who had heard Miss Goode's instructions and who now lined up in twos at the classroom door.

Her first day of school was actually ending, she thought. As much as she had enjoyed her day and the plump but playful Miss Goode, Pumpkin now couldn't wait to get home to share with her mother every detail of her first school day! She was bursting with even more excitement. But even though she loved her new teacher, she wanted her mother to know that she had no love for her unfriendly, teasing classmates. Yet she still hoped Miss Goode was right and one day soon, each of them would really want to be her friend.

Once outside the school building, laughing, skipping children ran to the playground where new swings, handle bars, sliding boards, monkey bars, and jump ropes were waiting. As the children continued to play joyfully, Pumpkin was dumbfounded. School had ended, she thought. She didn't understand why everyone wanted to stop and play. She was the only child who seemed in a hurry to get home. Even though the school crossing guard was not on her job, Pumpkin still raced alone across Sixteenth Street and down