Last night, I spent a little extra personal time with my son. He will be leaving in a week for that prestigious culinary school that I have signed my life away to pay for. We watched a few movies together. The first one was called “The Help.” It was based on the book written by Kathryn Stockett. I do not know whether or not this book is based on historical events with fiction added in, but from my perspective, what she wrote was probably very true, because I knew of the Jackson, Mississippi society and life back in the early sixties. I also asked a lot of questions of my Mother and Father about those times. We were living in Jackson, Mississippi from about 1961 – 1965.
I suppose we were no different than anyone else in that respect of having a housekeeper, a maid, a nanny who was a hard working African American woman. Ours was named Eloise. She was a special lady to me. She would watch “Edge of Night” as she did the ironing. Mother spent her time working with the Ladies Home Mission League through church a few days a week and then working with Daddy in his office occasionally. We were living in Country Club Estates which backed up to Mynelle Gardens and the Country Club golf course (which we were proud members of.) It was the place to live in for the rising young family.
Eloise was a God-send. Mother loved her too. She kept everything so organized and clean. When it came to her pay, Mother, a tough negotiator, paid her more than the going rate and provided her with transportation. (If I am not mistaken, it was about $5.00 - $10.00 more per week.) If my memory serves me correct, along with what I was told by my parents, this was going to be around the time that Mr. Evers was killed and then late President Kennedy. I was just a little girl and didn’t know these were troubled times.
I do remember Miss Eloise speaking to Mother about a garbage strike and that her husband was out of work temporarily. Mother promptly responded by calling Daddy and he hired her husband for odd jobs. Daddy was a builder. Those simple acts of kindness didn’t seem to sit well with the little community in which Mama and Daddy were members of. Dixon Pyles (I had later found out) was Daddy’s personal and professional lawyer. Anyone who had anything to do with the “civil rights attorney” Mr. Pyles was in the dog house to begin with. It didn’t matter to Daddy. He liked Mr. Pyles and Ms. Bess (his wife) was part of my mother’s maternal relations. From this point, things started to go downhill for the family. Business deals started to go sour for Daddy. Mother and Daddy were upset all the time. I really didn’t know why, unless it was because of those strange phone calls with people yelling “ugly words” in the phone. We children had been forbidden to answer the phone. I also remember Mama getting upset because several of her lady-acquaintances told her it wasn’t proper to pay a “colored person” so much money because they would just squander it. Mother also said something about being “black balled” from some social clubs.
One day, Mama and I had spent the day shopping at McRae’s. The last thing I remember about that afternoon was falling asleep in the backseat. What woke me up was a lot of screaming, the car rocking, and a strange man jumping in the front seat. The car came to a screeching halt and me being thrown into the floor board. Mother grabbed me out of the backseat and she was crying. I found out a few years later, that the brakes on the car had been tampered with. Mother had pulled into the inclined drive driveway, parked the car, and put the parking brake on (which was always a standard practice.) She had taken the packages in the house and was returning to get me only I wasn’t there. The car was rolling down the driveway into the neighbor’s house. One of the retired neighborhood husbands was doing yard work and came to the rescue. Again the brakes had been tampered with.
My memory after that point was a bit fuzzy. We were then on our way to Houston, Texas. We stayed in a hotel room for a month with my Uncle Mike as our baby sitter while Mama and Daddy found us a home. I do not know what ever happened to Eloise. But I do remember, she was full of hugs, kisses, hummed like an angel and was just a wonderful, wonderful lady. My parents wanted nothing further to do with the evils of those fighting civil rights injustices.
