Faithful to the Task at Hand

The Life of Lucy Diggs Slowe

Carroll L.L. Miller, Anne S. Pruitt-Logan

• Publisher: SUNY Press
• Year: 2012
• Print ISBN: 9781438442587, 9781438442594
• eBook ISBN: 9781438442600
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Education Biographies
• Index: Social Sciences

Born just twenty years after the end of slavery and orphaned at the age of five, Lucy Diggs Slowe (1885–1937) became a seventeen-time tennis champion and the first African American woman to win a major sports title, a founder of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority, and the first Dean of Women at Howard University. She provided leadership and service in a wide range of organizations concerned with improving the conditions of women, African Americans, and other disadvantaged groups and also participated in peace activism. Among her many accomplishments, she created the first junior high school for black students in Washington, DC. In this long overdue biography, Carroll L. L. Miller and Anne S. Pruitt-Logan tell the remarkable story of Slowe's steadfast determination working her way through college, earning respect as a teacher and dean, and standing up to Howard's President and Board of Trustees in insisting on equal treatment of women. Along the way, the authors weave together recurring themes in African American history: the impact of racism, the importance of education, the role of sports, and gender inequality.

1

The Early Years

Berryville, Virginia, October, 1889

Lucy Slowe learned of her mother's death when she heard her oldest brother, John, say, “She's dead.”¹ Both he and their Aunt Martha were overcome with tears, but Lucy, who was six years old at the time, reported that she was simply bewildered. So, she announced that she was going out to play with James Williams, her cousin and favorite playmate. When her aunt told her not to go because her mother had just died, Lucy wondered what her mother's death had to do with her playing! After all, when her pet chicken had died, she and James Williams had dug a grave, sung a song, and buried it—but they did not stop playing.

Fannie Slow,² her mother, had been gentle and easy with her because she was the baby of the family. She did anything she wanted to do, despite the protests of her brothers, John and Bill, and her sister, Charlotte. Her sister regarded herself as Lucy's boss, and Lucy felt she had a perfect right to “scratch her, pull her hair” and hide behind her mother's skirt.

Because Lucy's father had died five years earlier—and the children were now orphans—his sister, Martha, had traveled to Berryville from her home in Lexington to help with the arrangements.³ On the day of the funeral, Aunt Martha dressed Lucy in a stiff white dress with a black sash. She kept the child close by her side so that she would not run out to the road to play. Once, while Aunt Martha, whom Lucy feared, was pinning on her long, black crepe veil, Lucy darted to the door, but she was not quite quick enough. “You little demon,” Aunt Martha hissed, “What am I to do with you? If you don't stay right here, I will put you to bed for the rest of the day.” After quietly waiting for Aunt Martha to finish dressing, she was led into the “front room,” which was what they called the best room in the house. Her mother lay in a black casket. The family—John, Bill, Charlotte, Aunt Martha, and Lucy—sat near the head of the casket and near where the minister stood. They joined Aunt Caroline, who had been her mother's helper when she made applebutter, and their “friends, enemies and relatives,” who crowded themselves into the room as best they could. The minister and everybody but family members sang “Nearer My God to Thee,” and he prayed and talked about her mother. Everybody cried but Aunt Martha and Lucy. Aunt Martha did not cry “because she was too busy watching” Lucy, and Lucy did not cry because she was “trying to figure out why Aunt Caroline wore a red bandana handkerchief on her head when everybody else wore black ones.” Fanny (alternate spelling) Slowe was buried next to her husband in the Milton Valley Cemetery.⁴

Later, while they were eating supper, John agreed that the siblings would have to be separated because he could not get anyone to look after the girls. Moreover, Aunt Martha could not be expected to stay there in Berryville to look after them. He was candid about the girls' dispositions, acknowledging that Lucy needed a strong hand. Charlotte, on the other hand, was a good child. Because of this assessment—“Lucy was bad” and “Charlotte was good”—Lucy got mad at the whole family. She then made up her mind to give Charlotte “a good pinching” when they went to bed that night.

Aunt Martha concluded—“batting her eyelids rapidly”—that she would take both Charlotte and Lucy home with her and give them both a “Christian raising.” Lucy did not know what that was, but she knew she was not going to like it, especially if Aunt Martha had to give it to her. Lucy rolled her eyes at her aunt, but said nothing, for her throat was getting tight. Lucy's eyes filled with tears because she knew she would have to give up at least three things: her pal—James Williams—the road up and down which they raced, and the mud hole in the yard. Her aunt did not believe in playing in the mud, or playing with boys, or running up and down the road.

Lucy had been born on July 4, 1883, to Henry Slowe and Fannie Potter Slowe.^{5, 6} Her siblings were John, Nellie, Coltrop, Preston, William, and Charlotte,⁷ all older than Lucy. According to the record of marriages in Clarke County, Virginia, Lucy's parents were married in Berryville, a Shenandoah Valley town, on January 15, 1867. At that time, Henry was forty-two years old and listed his work as restaurant keeper. Although Berryville was a farming community, and African Americans were just close to thirty years out of slavery, it was quite a feat for him to be a restaurant keeper. He had been born in Louisa County, Virginia, the son of David and Penny Slow. His bride was born in Clarke County to George and Ann Potter and was twenty-two years old when she and Henry married.⁸ It is not known whether Lucy's parents and grandparents were slaves or free.

Lexington, Virginia

Whether Lucy wanted to or not—she was not consulted—two days after the funeral Aunt Martha and the girls started off for Lexington. To Lucy's mind, the trip from Berryville to Lexington probably felt like it was longer than 135 miles. Lexington was also located in the county where she was born. Berryville, however, was northeast, closer to the West Virginia line. Traveling was not easy in 1889. One could ride in a buggy or maybe a train if a railroad line had been constructed between Berryville and Lexington.

This could have been the saddest day in the little girl's life. She, Charlotte, and Aunt Martha arrived in Lexington one bright October afternoon. A sleepy old town, Lexington rested between two spurs of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Main Street was the principal thoroughfare, with the post office on one corner next to the bank that abutted the hotel. In front of the hotel, men lounged in chairs waiting for the evening mail to be sorted. Main Street also was home to a few stores that advertised general merchandise.

Lucy's journey probably took her past the large manor houses that still stood as vestiges of plantation society. Many had been erected long before the Civil War as the stronghold of a society built on slavery, and they had withstood the devastation of that war. Even today, a number of these homes remain.⁹

Lexington had been called “The Athens of the State.” It was the town where “Stonewall” Jackson taught his Sunday School class [S.S. Class] for colored children.¹⁰ The McDowells, the Massies, the Prestons, and many others who lived in those big houses had “curious ways,” as Lucy later described them.¹¹ They were the folk who made the town historically famous.¹² These families are said to have been prominent white Virginia families.

Aunt Martha led the two girls through the business district and paused before her house that sat on a large plot of land. It came with a frontyard that bore a weeping willow and a walkway that was lined with rows of horse chestnut trees. The backyard was laden with apple trees; it was a real apple orchard. “Home at last,” Martha was saying as they mounted the steps of the wide veranda. Louise, the girls' cousin “Lou,” as they called her, ran out to meet them.

“Why didn't you let us know that you were coming today, Ma? I would have sent Tom to meet you. And who are these children?” exclaimed Cousin Lou. Martha said, “These are your Uncle Henry's children, and I have brought them home to live with us. Take them upstairs, Lou, and see that they wash their faces and hands clean before they come to supper.”

Life with Aunt Martha was quite different from what it had been with her deceased mother. The pattern Lucy would subsequently follow was nurtured by the years she spent in the Price household. Martha was very strict. She was forty-five years old, tall, straight. and proud. Her sternness could have developed well before she married Robert Price, for she had worked for a rich white lady named Mrs. Pendleton. Serving as Mrs. Pendleton's maid, Martha assimilated culture, manners, stylish dressing, and all the characteristics of white society that she could possibly absorb. She believed that children should grow up to be God-fearing and to get a good education. She had pronounced ideas on dignity, morality, and religion, which she did not fail to impress on members of her family. When she brought Lucy and Charlotte into her home, she was a widow, and her sons, Will and Tom, and her daughter, Louise, supported her.

Presumably Martha's husband, Robert, had also influenced the Price home. Prior to his death, he had worked—from the 1840s through the post-Civil War era—at Virginia Military Institute (VMI) in Lexington as “a servant in the home of Superintendent Francis H. Smith. Smith family history credits Price, whom they called Old Bob, with gathering valuable personal and VMI papers and family silver and burying them in a gravesite just before the Union forces entered Lexington during ‘Hunter's Raid’ in June 1864.”¹³ So, as was characteristic of so many of the homes of African Americans who worked for white folk, aristocratic trappings were unmistakable. “Old Bob” no doubt believed in education and also personified dignity, as was the role for African Americans who were suitable enough to work as servants in white folk's houses. His son, William, had succeeded his father at the military academy, but Tom stayed at home and took care of the orchard while Louise looked after the house.

The girls were given a large room upstairs at the back of the house with two windows where they could look out over the apple orchard. When she saw the orchard, like kids everywhere, Lucy's greatest yearning was to climb one of those trees and eat those beautiful apples.

They soon gathered around the supper table: Cousin Will, a tall, reddish-brown young man with a kind face; Tom, a sixteen-year-old awkward boy whose black eyes were full of mischief; Cousin Lou, a young woman of twenty with a plump figure and full, round face; Martha, Charlotte, and Lucy. Aunt Martha told Tom, “I want you to take Charlotte and Lucy to school in the morning. They might as well start in at once, for I expect they are both far behind where they should be.” Tom replied, “Why Ma, Lucy can't be behind, she's only five.” Lucy was grateful to Tom for defending her. Martha rejoined, “Well, she ought to know her letters anyhow, and I am sure she doesn't know A from B. Her mother didn't start her bringing up as I would have done.”

That night, after they had eaten supper and after decisions had been made that Tom would take the girls to school the next day, they returned to their room, and there, filled with grief and homesickness, cried themselves to sleep.

Aunt Martha made sure that her nieces had a good education. Schools in Virginia were segregated,¹⁴ requiring that the sisters attend the school for African Americans. In Lexington, the Randolph Street School was the only graded school for those children.¹⁵ The two girls had been enrolled only a month when the teacher sent a note home to Martha Price that Lucy had not learned her ABCs, and she had also been a nuisance for the teacher. Lucy detested school; she had never been still in her life, and Miss Harriet, her teacher, insisted that children had to be as still and as quiet as mice. Lucy's heart almost stopped beating. What would Aunt Martha say? All the boys and girls were staring at her, but she scarcely saw them. She began to feel rebellious and angry. Before she knew it, she told Miss Harriet, “I don't care if you do send a note home,” whereupon the teacher punished her by sitting her in a corner alone. Was this behavior an early sign of stubbornness? Was she really recalcitrant? Or was it just being six years old?

Her aunt decided then and there that Lucy would be home-schooled. From nine in the morning until 12 noon, every day, including Saturday, Aunt Martha supervised the teaching, with Charlotte teaching the alphabet and Tom teaching reading, spelling, and arithmetic. After three years, Lucy returned to school and found herself far behind other children her age. Because of this break in grade level, she would be much older than her classmates when she later graduated from high school at age twenty-one.¹⁶ This period must have been one of the defining times for Lucy: not associating with children her own age, giving attention to learning, taking orders from both her sister and her brother as well as her aunt. There was no father present to assume the traditional role of ruler of the house; Aunt Martha was quasi-mother and father; she was the rule-maker. Why should she not have an impact upon who Lucy would become later in life?

Lucy related another story¹⁷ that illustrated her aunt's firmness. It was her recollection of John Hance. The son of Charles and Malinda Hance, John was about ten years older than Lucy.¹⁸ As the story goes, John Hance was a cross-eyed¹⁹ man who fascinated Lucy. He loafed at the post office corner every day. As groups of school children passed, he would glare at them, and they would run.

When John Hance died, Lucy wanted to view the remains. Her aunt emphatically forbade it. One day, on the way to school, however, a classmate persuaded Lucy to join her to see the corpse. When someone drew back the sheet, Lucy wrote, “One of those cross-eyes wide open glared menacingly at me. I was too frightened to scream.”

That evening, Lucy's aunt instructed her to go upstairs and bring her eyeglasses, which were on the dresser. “I was afraid to go.” Her aunt asked the second time. Lucy replied, “Yes, Aunt Martha, I heard you, but it is dark upstairs.” Martha noted that Lucy had never been afraid of the dark before. Lucy burst into tears, and, when she was calm again, she told her aunt of her visit to view John Hance's remains.

“Aunt Martha listened with a look of suppressed amusement and said, ‘I think you have been punished enough for your disobedience. I don't believe that I shall have any more trouble with your viewing remains, as you call it. I'll get my glasses myself.’ ” Lucy could have been genuinely afraid, or perhaps she was showing the earmarks of stubbornness, not particularly unusual considering her age.

Aunt Martha, of whom Lucy was dreadfully afraid, insisted that Lucy go to church with her every Sunday. Sunday was indeed a day of rest in Lexington. Everybody went to church. “Lucy, Lucy!” came the short crisp call up the stairs one bright July Sunday morning. “It's half past nine and time you were in Sunday School. Come down here immediately. Charlotte is ready and waiting for you.” “Aunt Martha,” Lucy pleaded, “I have a headache this morning. Can't I stay out in the yard in the cool?” “No!” came in an explosive tone, “Do you think that I am going to have a little heathen in my house? I never stay home from church and neither will you. Come down right now.”

Down Lucy came and slowly started up the street with her sister to Sunday School and preaching services. The morning was hot and the outdoors alluring; hence, religious worship in a small church was torture for Lucy.

Martha's attitude toward going to church reflected a significant phenomenon of the late nineteenth century: African-American churches were enormously important organizations. The largest denominations were Methodist and Baptist congregations like the National Baptist Convention that was organized in 1895. Their churches became “solid and dynamic institutions,”²⁰ bringing the newly freed African Americans together not only to worship but also to make plans for the uplift of the race. In Lexington, Virginia, churches “occupied central places” in the lives of the Africa...

Table of contents

• Title Page
• List of Illustrations
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• 1 The Early Years
• 2 The College Years: 1904–1908
• 3 Public School Teacher, Principal, and Tennis Champion: 1908–1922
• 4 A Call to Alma Mater and the Durkee Years: 1922–1926
• 5 The Dean of Women and President Mordecai Wyatt Johnson—The Early Years: 1926–1930
• 6 The Middle Johnson Years: 1931–1934
• 7 Dean Slowe and President Johnson—The Latter Years: 1934–1937
• 8 Shared Interests
• 9 Views and Philosophy
• 10 A Celebration of Life
• 11 The Things One Keeps
• 12 Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography