My Song of Songs: An Autobiography

Jesus.

SECTION I

Living in Memphis during Segregation (1948–1960)

WASHINGTON, D.C.- Family Portrait before leaving for Memphis Tennessee

CHAPTER 1

Tell Them in the East and in the West

MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE - The Fort Pickering Corps (S.A. Archives)

The Salvation Army in the South initiated an evangelistic program for southern Negroes in 1948. The new territorial commander, Lieutenant Commissioner Albert Chesham, felt that there was a definite need for the Army’s religious and social program among the Negro people. My dad, Major Maurice Smith, was appointed to investigate the possibilities . (Springboard to the Future, 42) Leaving the security of the Washington #2 Corps in D.C., he and his wife with their three-year-old son (yours truly) journeyed to Memphis, Tennessee, to investigate opening the work among the Negroes in that city.

After months of surveys and meetings, the Negro work in Memphis was officially opened in the Fort Pickering area of Memphis. This area was located on the west side of town, some eight blocks from the Mississippi River. The area housed a very diverse group of Negroes, some of whom had steady jobs and others who made a living working the cotton fields. There were even some Caucasians who had not yet moved out of the area. According to the Springboard to the Future Yearbook, the corps grew and even had a photo placed in the book of their Vacation Bible School (48)

The corps had a junior singing company in which junior soldiersi could participate. I was a junior soldier and about nine years of age when I first heard this song. My father, the corps officer, told us we were invited to sing at a special function of the Army’s advisory board in Hot Springs, Arkansas. This was a big event for us as we had very few opportunities to travel and to perform and never had we performed before a white audience—it was thrilling. We had to memorize the song and learn to march in time. Some of the women in the Home League made shirts and blouses for us; they were pale yellow with some maroon thread sewn in around the collars. The bottoms were blue pants or blue skirts; and we all wore black shoes.

My dad could really jazz up the music. Although he was an accomplished euphonium player, he taught himself to play the piano back in the thirties. He made the song into a production.

While marching, we sang the chorus:

Tell them of the baby in the manger laid,

Sent from Heaven above;

Tell them how for them he was a ransom paid,

Just because of love.

Tell them with your lips and by your actions too,

And with flag unfurled

Tell it out with a shout; tell it out with a shout:

Christ for the whole wide world. (Arnott)

As we sang the chorus the final time, five of us were to turn around and show the letters pinned to our backs—we spelled C-H-R-I-S-T.

I don’t remember how we were received at the event, but it was a wonderful time for we youngsters. I wonder whether my dad wanted to emphasize the message of Christ for the whole wide world. But through his determination and actions, he demonstrated that message loud and clear: whether we were Negroes, Caucasians, from Arkansas or Tennessee, Christ came to save all people. And for that, I am thankful.

MEMPHIS, (Orange Mound), TENNESSEE – Picture of first Negro Women’s League meeting. Wife of City Commander installed group (S.A. Archives)

CHAPTER 2

A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation

Chuck Barry, Fats Domino, and Elvis Presley were not yet popular in the mid-fifties, unlike Marty Robbins. Marty Robbins was a country and western singer who sang, A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation. It became a number one hit. The song was very popular, and I remember it well. It would be a few more years before rock and roll and rhythm and blues would take the center stage on the music scene. Whether it was music or radio dramas, listening to the radio was one of my favorite pastimes.

Another one of my favorite pastimes was watching television (black and white). Television stations were limited as to when they would broadcast, but some of my favorite shows were the Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok (Western), Your Hit Parade (music), and Lassie (drama). The Little Rascals was a television show my friends and I tried to emulate; it was a show about poor kids portraying their adventures in their neighborhood. The short films were both funny and exciting. We tried to be adventuresome like they were: we had our own neighborhood bike patrol, our own drama theater, and a movie studio! That’s right, and they were all operated by us! We were always coming up with new ideas. When I visited some of my childhood friends in 2013, they said it was me who always came up with creative ways to have fun (Berryhill, 2013). We would use old car tires and roll them down the sidewalks as if they were our cars and then race them down the street. Of course, we were all barefoot! When we got bikes, we would race down Suicide Hill (it was called that because if your brakes failed or you didn’t turn quickly enough, you could end up in the Mississippi River). At other times, we would climb into the hollow, steel beams underneath the Memphis-Arkansas Bridge and see how far we could go before turning back! (It’s strange that now I am fearful of traveling on big, long bridges.)

Movies were popular in those days, but I wasn’t allowed to go to the theater. I wasn’t sure if my dad didn’t want me to go because of the segregation policy (colored people were only allowed to sit in the balcony at white theaters) or whether he just didn’t want me going to the movies. Anyway, I would use my imagination by viewing and reading the movie ads and reviews from the daily newspaper and make up my own story. We once produced a play based on Susan Haywood’s movie, I Want to Live! Our play was called, Wild Woman on the Loose! We practiced and performed the play in a neighbor’s garage. It was not much of a story, but the climax was when the "wild woman" appeared and scared the audience (other kids) out of their seats and out of the garage! That was the way the story ended. We only performed this play once. Movies were different; they could be shown multiple times.

I asked my father for a movie camera for Christmas. I was surprised when he consented, but he had one stipulation. I would have to work as a Salvation Army kettle worker for four Saturdays, and with the money I earned (sixteen dollars total), he would add the rest to get me the camera. Working as a kettle worker wasn’t too bad; I had a nicely heated booth located at the corner of Main and Beale Streets. There was a very popular jewelry store that was situated right in front of me. It was a place where Elvis shopped when he was in town. Of course, there were crowds (mostly girls) who would follow him in. I never received any donations from them, but I did receive that movie camera for Christmas! My first movie production was our adaption of the movie, Tarzan. It was filmed in a ravine near our neighborhood and Johnny, my best friend, played the part of Bob Atlas dressed in his swimming suit. He portrayed a young fellow who grew up in the jungle but became a defender of the weak and downtrodden as he got older. We had many scenes where he came to the rescue of the downtrodden. We were proud of our first movie.

Another pastime I was involved in, yet I was not too happy about, was playing the piano! I started piano lessons when I was seven, and by age fourteen, wanted to pursue other things. Unfortunately, this didn’t happen; my father gave me other responsibilities like playing hymns for Sunday School and church. Somehow, I found a way to be creative about it. The Salvation Army is well known for putting Christian words to secular music, so I decided to try it myself. I added some Christian words to the song A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation.

O Lord, our God, won’t you come and bless us?

We need you with us day by day;

O Lord, our Strength, won’t you come and help us

And keep us in the narrow way

We are weak, and we may fall,

When temptation seem to pall [added for rhyming purposes]

Make us sure to hear your call,

Then we surely will not fall;

O Lord (O Lord), our God (Our God), won’t you come and heal us

And keep us in the narrow way.

That was my only pursuit at song writing, but I found the words to be ever true even to this day. We need his strength and wisdom to keep us in the narrow way. Matthew 7:14 says, "Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leadeth unto life, and few there be that find it." (KJV)

MEMPHIS, TENNESSEE – My first haircut by barber

CHAPTER 3

Safe in the Arms of Jesus

Safe in the arms of Jesus,

Safe on his gentle breast,

There, by his love o’ershaded,

Sweetly my soul shall rest. (Crosby)

I first heard this song at my mother’s funeral service. It was in April 1957; I was eleven years old. My mother’s death was not sudden; she had declined over a period of time—in fact, a year and a half. It is strange how things happen, and for me, a little boy, I didn’t understand all of what was taking place.

In 1955, my mother became a naturalized United States citizen. She was very proud to be a U.S. citizen, but she could not get over her fear of traffic intersections. She would always run across streets. I guess it was her experiences in the Caribbean that made her cautious. She could not be too cautious, however. While shopping for Christmas gifts at Woolworths for the corps one day, some heavy boxes fell on her. The store was quick to offer help, and in a thorough medical examination, it was discovered that she had cancer; it was in its final stages. She was given six months to live, but through many prayers, she survived much longer. As a little one, I was not too interested in things of that sort, but I did notice how my mom’s physical appearance changed.

There were some instances at school (before her ailment) where I was embarrassed of my mother. Being an older woman (in her fifties), she dressed very plainly. I was embarrassed when she came to any parent-teacher meetings. Someone must have advised her about it because later that year she appeared at the school in civilian clothes. Her hair was not in her usual bun. I was very pleased. I do want to say that I loved my mother, but I was confused about how different my parents were from others: age, culture, and style. My mother was a rather quiet and unassuming woman, but, like my father, she was very strict on discipline. My mother’s usual method of disciplining me was a quick tap on the back of my head with the usual command, Eddie … behave. One time I decided I didn’t want her to hit me there and I hit her back. That was a no-no. She laid into me through every room in the house. After that whipping and tongue lashing, I realized showing respect to my parents was what God required of me and decided that I would never do that again! Lesson learned.

My mom was small (5’2) and petite (about 100 lbs.). The regular visits to the doctor soon had an effect on her body. She looked as if she was pregnant from the fluids that were draining into her abdomen. I don’t remember my mom complaining, although there were times I could hear her moaning from the obvious pain she was experiencing. Yet there were other times I would hear her singing in her contralto voice while ironing clothes.

My desire’s to be like Jesus, My desire’s to be like Him;

His spirit fills me; His love o’erwhelms me;

In word and deed, To be like Him. (Plankenhorn, 1946)

I didn’t understand what death was until that April morning when my dad awoke me from sleep and said, Eddie, your mother passed away last night in her sleep. At first, I thought it was a dream until he took me into their bedroom to see her body. My dad didn’t want me to be afraid of death or my mother so that night he had me sleep in her bed to show there was nothing to fear. I must admit that I was still scared, but I have never felt afraid of my mom for she was safe in the arms of Jesus.

The funeral was sober and very dignified. There were people from the corps and some Salvation Army officers from the neighboring corps that were present. I don’t think the rule of segregation was followed in this meeting: blacks and whites sat near each other (our corps was never included in any city-wide corps gatherings because of segregation). I was also surprised to see my entire fourth-grade class in attendance. I remember my father giving a eulogy and then we viewed the body. My mom was dressed in her high collar uniform; her bonnet, her Bible, and her wedding ring were also placed in the casket.

We left the following day by train to bury my mom in a family plot in Philadelphia. That was where most of my dad’s family lived. But before we left Memphis, two white men came up to me and offered me their condolences. There was a tall white officer named Captain Dickey from the Southside Corps and a soldier who was a policeman, I believe named Leonard Bowers. I shall never forget them because they didn’t have to say anything to me, but they wanted to. There is another reason why I will never forget Captain Dickey: he held my hand so tightly that I thought he would break my bones. I’ll never forget that handshake!

In Philly, I met a lot of my cousins, aunts, and uncles for the first time that I could remember. The most impressive meeting was meeting my step-sister, Winifred. She was married and lived in Bermuda; she looked exactly like my mother yet much younger. Winifred was twenty years older than I was. I had a grand time meeting the family, but my dad and I had to face the realization that we would be returning to Memphis; he without a wife, and me without a mother.

Back in Memphis, my dad adjusted somewhat. Miss Pinky, an elderly, colored woman who lived next door, babysat me when he had to go to officers’ council and other places. Miss Pinky would also cook from time to time as my dad only cooked one type of dinner that I remember: seasoned pork and beans over rice with chopped up hot dogs! My dad sent notices to all of my mom’s correspondents, telling them of her promotion to glory. In doing so, he was able to start a relationship through letters with one of her session mates, Major Edna Bingham, who was stationed in Panama City, Panama. They were married the following year. Kudos for me! We would now have regular meals and be a complete family unit again!

WASHINGTON, D.C. – My dad married Major Edna Bingham of Panama. Witnesses were his brother, Victor Smith, niece Evelyn Smith, his son, Eddie, and sister- in- law, Harriett Smith (from Griggs collection).

CHAPTER 4

We Have No Other Argument

The end of the fifties was a time of change. There were changes in our corps facility, the neighborhood, and government policies. From the beginning, the Fort Pickering Corps was simply a white, wooden church with a back section where the bathroom and a small meeting area was located. We held some programs in the quarters (home). The wood-framed, two-bedroom house was attached to the church (see photo, chapter 1). The office (also my bedroom) was connected to the back section of the church building. It was my responsibility to make sure that all the lights were out, and the doors were locked every evening. It was sometimes very dark and scary, but to alleviate that fear, I ran through the building quickly. I could make it through the building, checking all the lights and doors in less than two minutes!

My dad and a few of the men built a youth hall onto the church, and my dad was able to get playground equipment for us. The only recreation area we had had before was in the Catholic school’s playground—but we had to jump the fence to play there. Our new playground was an excellent addition to the corps. My friends and I spent a lot of time there.

School gave me some opportunities that I didn’t have at the corps. I learned to play the trombone, and I became efficient enough to perform in the school orchestra and the marching band. One of the special events in Memphis was the Cotton Carnival held in May. There were two parades held at that time: one for the white people, and one for the colored. I might be a little biased, but I think the colored parade was the most exciting. We practiced dance steps and hit tunes, and we had a tremendous drum section. We won some awards for marching and performing, and I learned dance steps!

I guess you could call me a popular student. Many knew me by my nicknames: Eddie and Gappy. Gappy, you ask? I will tell you why I was known by that name. For many years, my parents gave me castor oil or something similar for health reasons, but the sugary syrup eroded my teeth. Soon after my permanent teeth appeared, my top front teeth developed a number of cavities. Also, some of my teeth were too large for my mouth, and it caused me to look like I had double row of teeth. The only way the dentist could fix it was to remove my front upper teeth and make me a partial upper denture. Before receiving the partial, I had to go to school with all my upper front teeth missing. A lot of students were amused and began calling me Gappy or the Cumberland Gap (if you are familiar with Tennessee geography, you know there is a gap between the Cumberland Mountains that is considered the gateway to the West). When I finally got the partial, I would smile when they called me that. Later people began saying that I smiled too much—if they only knew how embarrassed I was to smile before the partial, they would understand.

I got along with most people in those days, even with those who were considered the bad guys, the ruffians, or even gang members. Maybe it was my smile, or maybe they just didn’t see me as any threat. (If there were any who wanted to take my lunch money, etc., I just told them I didn’t have any, even though sometimes I did, and they left me alone.) I think I became too confident about my security. A few of my friends and I traveled across town to the colored YMCA, and we were confronted by a group of guys. They demanded that we give them money. We only had enough money to ride the bus home, so we didn’t give it to them. They jumped us, punching my friends in the face and knocking them down. I wasn’t touched. On our way home, we talked about the