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MRS. BROOKE G. WHITE
(Florida)
Mrs. White's home is of the type in
vogue early in this century, with large airy rooms, and a wide hall
leading from the front double-door entrance to the back divides the
drawingroom with its gilt and white French furniture and adjoining dining
room on the right from the living room to the east with its entrance into
Mrs. White's private sitting room to the south. The stairway, its red oak
banisters polished and shining, winds to the second floor with the four
family bedrooms.
Mrs. White herself answered the ring of the door-bell and invited me back
to the sitting room, where the radio was tuned in to "The Old Scotchman's
Problem."
"If you don't mind," she said, "We will wait until this is over, as it is
one of my favorites."
It was 10:30 and as we listened to the conclusion of the program, Mrs.
White's face lighted with pleasure and she nodded approval when Gregor
McGregor, the crusty old bachelor of the radio cast, grudgingly yielded to
the persuasion of a long-time friend to forego the warped opinions of his
early training and a later hard-wrested personal career and adapt himself
to the wider viewpoints of a young man he had formed a great attachment
for and whom he was educating to be a physician.
The room was plainly furnished. An old fashioned leather-covered couch by
the east windows, with its small pillow at the head and its rumpled
blanket, showed signs of having been recently occupied, for Mrs. White is
frail and has to lie down frequently.
The large fireplace was closed, and an attractive circulating oil heater
made the room comfortably warm. On the mantel were two matched vases of a
period of fifty years ago and several photographs of her son, her daughter
and granddaughter. In the corner by the fireplace was a bookcase, its open
shelves filled with a variety of well-bound books showing signs of much
handling. Four easy chairs, with one straight chair, its fragile walnut
frame and cane seat making it seem peculiarly out of place with its more
modern companions, completed the furnishings of the room.
Mrs. White is a tall, thin woman, with intelligent features, bright brown
eyes, and a ready smile. During the radio program, her fingers were busy
knitting an afghan in softly blending colors of rich wine, rose, brown and
tan. "For my granddaughter, Mary Brooke Johnson," she explained. "We just
call her Brooke. She selected the pattern and the colors, and this
herringbone stitch does look nice," she continued, as the needles flushed
in and out, forming the intricate design.
"Last year I crocheted a bedspread composed of 200 squares made on a
diagonal pattern for my daughter, Mrs. Mary Dell Johnson, who lives in
Riverside. It took a whole year to make and was very pretty when finished.
It will be a nice keepsake for her. I have also made an afghan of a
different pattern from Brooke's, for my son and his wife, Brooke G. White,
Junior. I have to treat them all alike, you see, to keep peace in the
family," she said, laughing.
"You'll have to excuse me for squirming around," she said, as she rose
from her seat near the radio and changed to a rocking chair with a padded
back. "About fifteen years I was in a terrible automobile accident. The
car, an open type, suddenly went into a ditch and I was thrown out on the
highway. The following year I was in another accident. This car went into
a ditch, too, and in the violent lurch my head hit the top, jamming my
head down and dislocating several vertebras. The two accidents have given
me a crooked spine - like this -" tracing the letter "S" with her index
finger on the arm of the rocker. "I often say I have a boyish figure on my
right side, with a May West on the left," she said, laughing and making
light of her disfigurement, as she stood and smoothed down her soft jacket
dress showing a straight silhouette on the right, with a decidedly curved
hip on the other side.
"No, I do not limp, but I get tired if I am on my feet much, and the
strained nerves of my neck and back tire easily too, keeping me twisting
around in a chair or lying down frequently to get relief.
"Well, the Florida history of my family goes away back. My grandfather,
Philip Dell, was an early settler in Alachua County. He was one of the
early Lieutenant Governors in the Colonial period, and later earned the
title of Colonel in the Seminole Indian Wars. He located near Newnansville,
an old town now entirely obliterated, but the site occupied by the village
of Alachua. The family plantation was known as "Standby Place."
"The Dells were English. The family, that is, my great-grandfather's,
settled in Accomac County, off the coast of Virginia. Later they came down
in to North Carolina, where during the Revolutionary War, my mother's
father, also a Philip Dell, participated in the battle of Guilford
Courthouse.
"Afterwards, the family worked its way through South Carolina into
Georgia, and I am told the little town of Boston in South Georgia was
called for my grandmother's family, whose name was Boston.
"They located in Alachua County at a serious period of the state's
history. My grandmother told many tales of the hostile Seminoles, one
which particularly impressed me. She said the Indians, rather a large
company, were seen in the distance. My grandfather, Philip Dell, was away
on military service, so she called all the slaves in from the plantation
fields, and barring the doors in anticipation of a raid, she had them make
dummies, which dressed like men, she had placed at the windows where they
could be plainly observed by the Indians. She thought if she could impress
the Seminoles with the idea there were men on the place, possibly well
armed, she would not be molested. Her scheme evidently worked, for the
Indians reconnoitred around the place, for an hour or so, then went on
without making an attack.
"A rather romantic legend she also told of the Cherokee rose. She said it
was reported when there were many Indians in the southeastern United
States, they used to travel from one section to another to visit. A tribe
of Cherokees from North Carolina came down to visit the Seminoles in
Florida. One of the young braves fell deeply in love with a Seminole
princess. Returning later alone for a visit, he brought her as a gift a
sprig of the Cherokee rose, which she planted. It grew and was very
prolific. To visitors from other sections she also gave cuttings, which
they, in turn, planted. Thus the Cherokee rose became established in
Florida.
"My father Francis A.L. Cassidey, came when a young boy to Alachua County,
accompanying a brother-in-law who had consumption, as they called
tuberculosis in those days - the late 1850's.
"My mother, Retta Dell, had a tutor, a Mr. Bernard, who later became Judge
Bernard of Tallahassee, and my father's invalid relative asked if he might
not be instructed, too. I have often heard my father say his first sight
of my mother was seeing her remove her shoes and stockings before
attempting to cross a small stream on a narrow footlog. She was afraid of
falling into the water. He guided her across, then went home with her.
Later they became schoolmates, as I said, and still later, sweethearts.
They were married in 'Standby Place' March 11, 1860. Here is the Bible
given them by grandfather Cassidey, with the admonition in his own
handwriting that they read a chapter each day.
"Grandfather Cassidey, was an Irishman, the only one I have ever been able
to trace of that name who spelled it with an 'e'. He settled in
Wilmington, North Carolina in the 1840's. He was an expert in the
ship-building business which he had learned in Ireland, and the business
which he established at Wilmington, consisting of a complete plant, ways,
drydocks, etc., was the only one in the United States south of the state
of Maine. He wished my father to succeed him, and in time sent him to the
Maine shipyards to learn the newest and best ideas in vogue in this
country at that time.
"However, when he came back to Alachua and he and my mother were married,
going to Fernandina where my father engaged in the shipping business.
"My grandfather at one time had lived in Fernandina. His home, called the
'Dell Mansion,' although it was only about half the size of the one in
which I now live, adjoined the home of Senator David Yulee, and they were
great friends.
"In this house my father and mother established their home, and there on
January 4, 1861, my brother, Philip Dell Cassidey, was born.
"War was imminent, and when the Federal gunboats arrived in Fernandina
Harbor, my father took his family to Newnansville for safety, and there
they remained for the period of the war while he was in the Confederate
army.
"He enlisted under Capt. J.J. Dickison and was in all the skirmishes
around Gainesville, Palatka, also took part with his troops in the Battle
of Olustee, the major battle of the war in Florida. He kept a daily diary
of the events, which several years ago I turned over to Mr. Herbert Lamson
for the benefit of the Jacksonville Historical Society. I am sorry I do
not have a copy, but you can probably obtain one from him.
"Here is an account he wrote in 1888 of a privateer, the "Mariner,
operating from his father's docks at Wilmington, North Carolina in 1861
which may be of interest," she said, handing me a book in which was
written the above account in the precise handwriting of her father, with
clipped edges showing where she had cut out about fifty pages that
constituted the diary to which she had referred.
A ring at the doorbell caused her to excuse herself, as she answers all
calls personally.
After some little time she returned. "A little old humped-over man asking
for something to eat. I had the maid fix him a nice sandwich and gave him
some fruit."
We watched through the window as the old fellow reached the corner,
hesitated, then went east on First Street. In a few minutes he was back at
the side door - without the bundle of food - and again asking for
something to eat.
"Why, I just gave you a sandwich. Don't you remember?"
"Oh, yes," said the old man, "I've made a mistake."
Down the steps he went, this time south on Liberty Street.
"He certainly got rid of that food in a hurry. Maybe he had a partner,"
Mrs. White said, laughing. "Well, anyway, I would rather give aid to one
who did not need it than to turn away one who was really hungry."
Resuming the trend of her story, she
continued:
"I was born in 1862 at 'Prospect Place,' my father's residence in
Newnansville.
"After the war was over, my father took his family to Wilmington, North
Carolina, reviving the Cassidey Drydock and Shipbuilding Company belonging
to his father, which had suffered considerably from the hazards of war.
"There I was reared. We were all members of the historic St. James
Episcopal Church, of Wilmington. There were no public schools, and my
brother and I attended a private school, conducted in the St. James Parish
House by two sisters, who also taught in the Sunday school. Thus one
sister was our teacher, and the other who had charge of the choir, taught
us music. We spent six days of each week under their influence, which was
splendid training for us, as they were both well educated and accomplished
women.
"As a young girl in Wilmington, it was one of the joys of my life to visit
my father at work in his office of the shipbuilding company.
"When order for a new boat came in, he first drew his plans very
carefully, according to the dimensions required, the design showing in
detail both the inside and outside construction.
"Then out of soft, pliable wood he constructed a model of the boat or ship
as it would appear when completed. This was carefully sawed into two
sections, and one-half framed like a picture was hung on the wall above
his deck. This served as a working model.
"It is remarkable, in contrast with divided talents of the present, how
these pioneers were required to develop skill in all departments of their
work. Instead of having a department for the execution of each detail, my
father was obliged to be draftsman, engineer, wood-worker and finisher.
Thus he was familiar enough with the requirements to have become an expert
in any department of the work, instead of just following one line.
"That, I believe, is the fault of our present day education, the building
up of specialists. They are for the most part one-sided in their
development, and if they fail in their own particular field, they are
unable to adapt themselves to anything else, and go through life in this
mal-adjusted state.
"In 1880 a most disastrous fire wiped out entirely the shipyards. My
father, salvaging some of the machinery, secured a contract for dredging
the St. Johns River, bringing his family to New Berlin, Florida, then a
prosperous fishing village, where he made his headquarters. We were unable
to secure the house he had planned on, so during our residence there the
family boarded with Mr. John Gray.
"This was the first government contract for deepening St. Johns Harbor,
and father worked under Lieutenant Rosselle, government engineer. At that
time it was only 15 feet across the bar, and no big ships could come in.
The method of work was unique. They brought heavy granite boulders from
North Carolina and Georgia, carrying them down by flatboats. Taking young
cypress trees they wove them into mattresses, sinking them where they had
dredged out the sand and silt by placing the heavy boulders on top. The
shells and marine growth attached themselves to these mattresses, forming
a protection as solid as rock, and they have held to this day. The jetties
were also built at this time, so that the channel has been permanently
widened and deepened enabling even the largest ships to come right into
the docks at Jacksonville.
"In 1882 we came to reside in Jacksonville, a town of probably 10,000 at
that time, about half of the population being colored.
"Mr. White, who had been trained in the Episcopal Theological Seminary
under Bishop Atkinson, in Asheville, North Carolina, was assigned to this
diocese about that time under Bishop Young.
"It was rather a strange coincidence that I, who had been trained under
the influence of Bishop Atkinson in eastern North Carolina, and Mr. White,
with this same great churchman was in western North Carolina, we did not
meet until we both came to Jacksonville.
"We were married here 1887. Mr. White had been a deacon under Bishop
Atkinson and was ordained as a priest in St. Johns under Bishop Young. He
was simply 'on call' and worked wherever he was sent in the diocese.
"At this time there were a considerable number of colored Episcopalians
among the servants and Negro families of Jacksonville, and they had been
accommodated by the side pews of St. Johns Church. When Bishop Weed later
succeeded Bishop Young, he considered it an opportune time to organize
colored parishes, and my husband was assigned the task.
"He built St. Philips Church at the corner of Cedar and Clay Streets,
giving from his own personal means the window in memory of those who has
assisted in the establishment of the church.
"There were a great many Negroes from the West Indies who associated
themselves with this congregation, some of whom possessed very fine
voices. Wishing to assist my husband, I took charge of the music. I had
brought my music and my instruction books from Wilmington, and set to work
to train this congregation to intone the service. Mr. White also had a
particularly lovely, sweet voice. The plan was a great success, and
tourists, visitors for St. Johns and other white congregations used to
come to St. Philips to enjoy the music. The entire service was sung, even
the 'Amens'.
"During the yellow fever epidemic of 1888, Rev. Mr. Barber, rector of St.
Stephens Church, contracted the fever and died.
"My father's family refugeed to Tallahassee during that summer, and there
we renewed acquaintance with the Barnards - Judge Barnard who had been my
mother's tutor in Newnansville - and I met his daughter, Mary, (now Mrs.
F. [?]. Greever) who has ever since been my very dear friend.
"When we returned to Jacksonville, Mr. White, having been promoted to
Archbishop, was asked by Bishop Weed to take charge of St. Stephens
Church, and there he worked for many years among the [parishioners?] of
that section.
"When he organized the women's auxiliary and other activities of the
church, he said to me: "I do not want you to be the head of any of them.
People must not be hampered by having the rector's wife on any of their
boards. They must be free to act, to criticize, and to express their
opinions." And so, I was merely a worker, glad to help in any direction,
only wanting to do what was right by all concerned, and we got along
famously.
"By the way, I must show you some more of my hand-work, stoles made for
Mr. White to use in his ceremonies at the altar."
She went to be bookcase in the drawing room and from a lower drawer
removed three tissue paper packages.
"It was a great handicap to me, I thought, that I had never learned to
cook. You know it is said, 'The way to reach a man's heart is through his
stomach,' and I believed this literally, voicing my regret to Mr. White
when we were married that I would be unable to prepare his food, but he
just laughed and said we would just have to find a cook. You see I had
learned to sew, knit, crochet, and embroider, and I guess cooking and
those things just naturally do not go together. But I made these stoles,
and Mr. White was always very proud of them.
"I do not know if you are familiar with the Episcopal service, but the
purple one is worn during times of penitence in Lent and on Good Friday,
the green one during trinity, and the white one at Easter, Christmas, at
weddings and on festive occasions.
"I sent to J. & R. Lamb & Company, of New York, dealers in clerical
supplies for my patterns. The designs on the white one are from three
different patterns. I transferred the original pattern very carefully by
tracing on a blank sheet with carbon, and this design I placed carefully
on the satin material for the stole, stitching it in outline on the sewing
machine with the thread removed. The perforations of the needle, I
followed very carefully with my embroidery. I had learned the Kensington
embroidery stitch from Miss Ela Maxey (Bogart).
"The colors in the passion flower on the first one, I matched by having a
living flower before me as I worked. You will see the colors in all of
them are bright and fresh, although they are over fifty years' old.
"Recreation? Well, I did not have much time for play. At New Berlin I
spent most of my time out of doors during the day - it was a beautiful
place then, with large trees, fine old homes and lovely gardens. We met
Capt. Kemp's family there. He owned the pilot-boat, and his daughter
married Napoleon Broward who was afterwards governor of Florida. We played
croquet, a very popular out-door game in those days.
"I was married soon after I came to Jacksonville. I remember we used to go
to the dances at the Yacht Club at the foot of Market Street, which were
very enjoyable. I made all of Mr. White's shirts, coats, clerical vests,
and sewed for myself and children, and this, with my music, and assisting
Mr. White in his parish work, caused me to live a very busy life.
"After Mr. White had been with St. Stephens a couple of years, Mrs.
Alexander Mitchell, who had built a beautiful home on the south side
called 'Alexandria Villa', was desirous of establishing a church in that
section. She went over the diocese listening to the various rector's
sermons, and finally one Sunday came to St. Stephens. She was particularly
impressed with Mr. White's discourse and his delivery, and [immediately?]
after the service, told him she wished to engage him for the new church
she was personally building on the south side, called 'All Saints.'
"So it was arranged, and when the church was completed, and which Mrs.
Mitchell fitted out completely with pipe organ and all the necessary
furnishings, we went over to the south side parish where we lived for two
years.
"But Mr. White was an independent sort of person, and felt Mrs. Mitchell
was trying to make him her private chaplain. She wanted her own way about
everything - to pay him a stated salary, even hire the servants, the yard
man and stable boy - to furnish all his robes and vestments, and he did
not like that. He wanted simply to be the clergyman, the congregation to
pay his salary - whatever they could afford - and to be free to carry on
his work the same as any other rector.
"During our residence on the south side we went frequently to 'Villa
Alexandria'. Mrs. Mitchell's, son in Milwaukee had married his second
wife, and had given his son, David, by his first wife, to his grandmother
to rear. David and my son, Brooke, were about the same age, and used to
play together a great deal.
"The Mitchell home was a frame building, nothing unusual to look at, but
the inside was most beautiful. The entrance hall ran a distance of perhaps
twenty feet to the stairway, which led to a landing about half way up
where it divided. The wall at this landing was one solid sheet of plate
mirror glass.
"Her own private bedroom was finished in trimmings of blue, while the
hangings were all of white silk. It was very striking.
"Mrs. Mitchell was very generous and was always inclined to be most
charitable. She sent Rev. Van Winder Shields, who had become rector at St.
Johns, and Mrs. Shields to Mexico, paying all the expenses of their trip.
"But Mr. White did not like to be patronized, so he asked to be relieved
of the charge of All Saints. A young clergyman was secured, and he and
Mrs. Mitchell got along beautifully.
"While on the south side, the old families - the Holmes, Delanceys,
Cummings, Backers - all united with All Saints, as well as families from
Arlington. We came to know them all. This was in 1890, but as we always
went to our summer home in Saluda, North Carolina, and Mr. White was only
in charge of All Saints for about two years. We did not become so well
acquainted.
"When we returned to Jacksonville, we made our home in Lavilla. This was
also known as West Jacksonville, and was considered a very nice
residential section. Our home was opposite the Frank L'Engle home on
Monroe Street.
"When the memorable fire started around noon on May 3, 1901, I was on the
back piazza of our home which faced north, and saw the sparks as they
lighted the inflammable material on the roof of the Cleveland Fibre
Factory in the Springfield section. The roof of the building was perfectly
flat, and moss, fibre and other material used in making mattresses and for
upholstery purposes was placed on the roof to dry. It was thought the
sparks were generated from a short circuit in the electric current.
"Mr. White was at the Duval County Courthouse at the time, in the office
of my brother, Philip Dell Cassidey, who for 25 years was clerk of Duval
County. The fire spread with great rapidity, as there was a strong wind,
and while I watched I saw blazing pieces of fibre wafted through the air
start seven different fires. I realized it was serious, and telephoned Mr.
White in great anxiety to hurry home. He said, 'Wait until I go out and
see which way the wind is blowing.' When he came back to the 'phone he
said the wind was from the west and our home was not in danger, and a
short while later he came in. It was a terrible thing to stand and watch
and feel so helpless - the buildings blaze up, then crash to the ground
with a terrible clatter. Every street was blocked with debris. We were
getting ready to move out, when the fire reached the water, the river on
the front and Hogans Creek on the east, had miraculously stopped.
"There were many heart-rendering episodes. One old clergyman had a room in
the Law Building, where the Law Exchange Building now stands, and in a
trunk he had many valuable manuscripts, including all the sermons he had
written during his life. He made his way into the building, dragging the
heavy trunk down several flights of stairs and down to the wharf where
boats were being placed to carry people to safety. He begged them to place
the trunk aboard, but the men in charge said: 'We are trying to save
people's lives, not trunks,' so they took the poor old fellow in the boat,
saving his life, but the trunk was lost, as the wharf a few minutes later
went up in flames.
"We were building this house at the time, the ground was a half block of
the Schofield property - the Schofield Street of the present day then
being an alley. The entire framework was up and a lot of valuable building
material had been delivered on the grounds. Wishing to know the fate of
the building, we started our Negro yard man over to see about it on
horseback. He was compelled to ride a great distance north to get out of
the burning section, and about ten o'clock that night returned with the
cheering news that the fire had stopped at Hogans Creek, several blocks
away, and the new building was unharmed.
"Dr. Fernandez, his wife, and his wife's mother made their way to our home
late in the evening the day of the fire. Their clothing was scorched, and
hot cinders had so burned the women's backs we had to sit up most of the
night bathing them with soothing lotions to ameliorate their agony. We
took care of them for several days.
"The old clergyman also came in after the Fernandez, and we took care of
him, too, but we had no place for him to sleep except on a sofa in the
hall downstairs.
"This corner also played an important role in the days of (1898) the
Spanish-American War period, as General Fitzhugh Lee's headquarters was in
a tent right under these same old oak trees that now surround the house.
The various regiments were encamped from here out to 5th Street in North
Springfield. General Lee's staff headquarters was in the Windsor Hotel
down town.
"When Mr. White visited the camp, in his talk with General Lee he learned
the Asheville Regiment from North Carolina, most of whom he knew
personally, [????] would be in command of Captain Tom Patten, an old
gentleman, a former officer in the War between the States, a personal
friend of Mr. White's, we gave up our vacation in order to stay in
Jacksonville that he might be near his old friends.
"This decision seemed, in a way, providential. The North Carolina regiment
had mobilized at Raleigh, North Carolina, but the temporary camp had no
modern facilities - there was no running water, they had to use surface
water for drinking and other purposes - and typhoid fever broke out. There
were many cases among them on their removal, and in this way the fever was
brought to the encampment in Jacksonville. It soon spread to such an
extent it was hard to cope with.
"I went with Mr. White on his daily rounds, but there was no provision for
women nurses, so I was not able to do much. We carried chewing-gum, which
was much appreciated by the boys, as they could not brush their teeth, and
we gave them pocket-combs and other useful articles.
"Mr. White appealed to a wealthy friend of his in Philadelphia, Pa., who
sent him several hundred dollars to procure comforts for the soldiers,
saying: ""When you get down to the last hundred, let me know, and there
will be more forthcoming, for I have 'money to burn' for uncle Sam's
fighters.""
"As the situation grew worse, the field hospitals overcrowded, and only
orderlies to care for the fever-stricken boys, Mr. White again appealed to
this kindly man, and he sent down six typhoid experts from Blocker
Hospital in Philadelphia, with a corps of trained nurses. When the boys
saw them they said: 'Thank God! Now we'll get well!'
"One day we visited Captain Patten's tent and found him on a blanket
spread on the ground - a convalescent - while his cot was occupied by a
young lieutenant, Rev. Mr. Buell, in high delirium from typhoid. Mr. White
recognized the young man as one he had taught, and who had lived in the
home of Bishop Atkinson's daughter in Asheville. We secured permission
from General Lee to take young Mr. Buell home with us, where we nursed him
back to health."
Here Mrs. White left the room to answer the door, and a fresh young voice
said: "Granny, you did not expect to see me today, did you?"
By this time they were back, Mrs. White introducing - "My granddaughter,
Brooke Johnson."
The attractive young blond of about twenty, smiled cordially as she
acknowledged the introduction saying: "I was looking for a dressing room.
I've been playing golf, and want to change for down town."
"Go right ahead, as far as you like," said her grandmother, "We'll not
look." But Brooke did not accept the invitation, and went upstairs to one
of the bedrooms. Shortly she was back, carrying her heavy sport shoes,
with her golf togs across her arm, and dressed in a russet-colored print,
with high-heeled low-cut shoes to match.
"Well, goodbye, glad to have met you (to me). I'll be seeing you, granny."
(to her grandmother). In a few minutes we heard the whir of the motor, as
she was off to keep a luncheon engagement.
"That's young people for you - 'hello' - 'goodbye'" - laughed Mrs. White.
"But life is so complicated and they have so much to occupy their time
nowadays. They are all right - it is just a different age we are living in
that makes them seem different.
"Getting back to the Spanish-American War period - during the long summer
we came to know General Fitzhugh Lee very well. One day Mr. White asked
him: 'Don't you find it a great advantage now to be a descendant of the
famous General Robert E. Lee?'
'No, said he, it's a decided handicap. No matter how I conduct myself, it
is just what was expected of me, and I get no credit personally. If I
honor my illustrious ancestor, it is exactly what I ought to do, and if I
make a mistake, or should not behave myself, it is ten times worse for me
than for any other person.'
Another ring at the doorbell took Mrs. White away for the third time, and
I heard a voice through the open door - "I am distributing cards for Mr.
Fred Walls, who is running for re-election to the City Commission, and was
told to call here and leave cards for Mrs. White and Mr. Brooke G. White,
Jr., and Miss Davis," (a friend of the family).
Mrs. White returned with the three cards, bearing the picture of the
aspiring politician, and said: "It was a young woman electioneering for
Fred Walls. I do not take much interest in politics, except so far as my
son, Brooke, Junior, is concerned - he is assistant city auditor - and I
do not go to the polls to vote any longer, as sometimes it is necessary to
stand in line and I get too tired.
"I hope Mr. Walls is re-elected," she continued, "I consider, and so does
my son, that he has made a fine commissioner of finance, he always knows
how to get the money on Jacksonville's bonds so that the city is never
embarrassed for funds. Of course, he has made enemies, but they are
political ones, and he has thousands of friends who know his real worth.
"And I think Mr. Roosevelt is a very fine man and one with the most honest
intentions. I very well remember his inaugural address in which he said:
'I am only a human being and subject to errors and mistakes. I am acting
for the best, according to my own viewpoint, but if anyone can at any time
show me a better viewpoint to attain the welfare and happiness of the
people of the United States, I am perfectly willing to change.' I think he
has lived up to that principle.
"You know I get so much out of the radio - it enables me to keep up with
world events - that and newspapers. I was impressed with the selection of
young Douglas, who has just become the youngest Supreme Court Justice. The
radio report of his nomination gave a resume of his life - how he had
worked at his first job for $2.00 a week, and later ridden miles and miles
on his bicycle to attend school. That is the kind of training that makes
good Americans.
"But one thing I cannot understand in the recent news, is the reported
action of Mrs. Roosevelt withdrawing from the Daughters of the American
Revolution because the organization would not rent their own Congressional
Hall to a Negro soprano songstress for a concert in the city of
Washington. I hope it is only propaganda. Mrs. Roosevelt is a fine woman
with common sense and democratic principles, but Negroes, with the
progress and advantages they have had in the last sixty years or more,
should be able to support halls for such purposes for members of their
race."
The maid announced Mrs. Johnson on the telephone, and Mrs. White said, as
she left the room to answer - "My daughter. She never forgets me. If she
is unable to come over, we have a long visit over the 'phone."
March 23, 1939
Mrs. Brooke G. White (77)
(widow, Epis. Rector)
250 East First-st.
Jacksonville, Florida
Rose Shepherd, writer
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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