Stroud Papers, Ms 429, Box 1
Transcribed by Sarah Ichinose and Jessy Randall, 2024

IMPORTANT NOTE: This transcription includes racist language, including the N word. We have decided not to censor it or replace it with a euphemism. This practice is in accordance with the wishes of the donor (Juanita Stroud Martin, daughter of the author) and our interpretation of the advice of the NAACP, which bans the N word except when highlighting its prejudicial nature in historical context.

Note: Kelly/Kelley Dolphus Stroud writes about himself in the third person throughout. Family members disagree about whether he spelled his first name with or without an e. In these papers, we see one example of Kelly and three of Kelley. Most often, he uses “Dolphus.”

Typed letter accompanying the memoirs:

August 9, 1974
Dear Pooch [Juanita Stroud Martin, called Pooch, Poochy, and Poochy-de-butt in the family]:
These are vignettes Daddy has been writing – I gather since he took ill. I think that he is trying to finish the whole autobiographical highlights of his life before something final occurs. I certainl hope he will have both the time and the continuing interest in doing so, since I think that we will all find them valuable for historic preservation of the lineage.
I know that you guys had a ball and I wish that I could have joined in with you. So long since everyone has been together. Give the babies my love and good luck with and on the new job.
Love
Marilyn/Henry

Lulu
photocopy, typed, overview covering 1910-1970s

Rev. K. D. and his wife, Lulu Magee Stroud moved from Oklahoma with their four oldest children in 1910 to Colorado Springs where Rev. Stroud started Stroud Brothers a hauling company. His success is detailed by the NAACP in its fifth anniversary issue of the Crisis Magazine, dated 1924 to 1929.

Rev. K. D. and his wife had seven more children in Colorado Springs. All were well known for hard work and academic excellence. They were all honor students at sometime during their school years, and all attended schools above the high school level.

Kimbal the first child was very well known for her extremely strong stand against segregation; her political astuteness and her writings. She married Pual Goffman and became the mother of Paul, Jr., and William.

Albert Ben the second child was a businessman and a civil rights leader. In 1922 he went to Maywood, Ilinois where he started Ben's Express as a Branch of Stroud Brothers of Colorado Springs. He was a state officer in the Illinois NAACP and President of the Maywood Central Civic League.

Kelly Dolphus, the third child was a scholar and businessman. He attended Colorado College in Colorado Springs where he became the first black person to achieve Phi Beta Kappa. He received his Master's degree from the University of Mexico; taught school in Georgia and Texas before opening his hauling and storage and also tax preparation business in Portland, Oregon. In Colorado Springs he married Ida Vaughan and the couple had four children. They were Marilyn, Constance, Alfred and Juanita. After they divorced he married Havanna Ryan in El Paso, Texas and they had nine children, they were, Ernest, Joel, Perry, Lulu, LaVerne, Marvin, Marva, Havanna and Gary.

Effie, the fourth child graduated with honors from Colorado College, studied Library Science at Hampton University in Virginia, received her Master's degree from Columbia University and became Head Librarian of Dunbar Branch Library in Indianapolis, Indiana. She retired as Supervisor of Research Librarians in New York City. She was married to Clark Frazier, and was a member of the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority.

Tandy the fifth child graduated from Colorado Springs High School as the top student in the class. He was offered a scholarship to Colorado College and one to Howard Univeristy. He decided to take the one to Howard because Colorado Springs was so prejudiced. After two years he returned to Colorado, worked for the family business, joined the Pentecostal church and married Bernice Williams. They were the parents of ten children, Louise, Welvin, Willard, Willie, Joseph, David, Vanessa, Lemuel, Donald and Darlene. He worked for the federal government, became a real estate broker and a Pentecostal minister.

Jack the sixth child received his degree from Colorado College with a major in Mathematics; worked for the National Bureau of Standards in Boulder, Colorado and retired as a Supervisor of Mathematical Engineers for North American Aircraft’s Space Program. A member of the Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity he married Vera Johnson of Chicago, Illinois.

James the seventh child, was a writer and at Dorsey Adult School in Los Angeles he studied Graphic Arts. Several publishers used his creations. He was manager of the "Saxony Arms Apartments", the largest housing complex for black people in San Diego, and a member of the Prince Hall Masons of San Diego.

Lulu, the eighth child attended Prairie View College in Texas and graduated from Langston University in Oklahoma. She was employed by the Federal government and retired as National Equasl Opportunity Officer for the Military Traffic Management Command of Washington, D. C. Returning to Colorado Springs, she along with her husband, Leonard Pollard and their friend, John McDonald started the Negro Historical Association of Colorado Springs. In 1997 the city of Colorado Springs named a park in her honor for her dedicated service to the city and for the work she had done to bring black people into the history of Colorado Springs. Pioneer Museum, school displays, book on Black Retirement, local historian + resource for research students (higher education)

Nina, the ninth child was graduated with honors from the University of Colorado at Boulder, did post graduate work at Hampton University in Virginia, received her Master's degree from Colorado College and studied further at the University of California at Berkeley, under the PhD program. She also studied Voice and Theory at Chicago Conservatory of Music in Illinois. In the early 1950's she became the first black school teacher in Colorado Springs. She sang with the Richmond California Symphony and, as a member of her Catholic Church Choir sang before the Pope at the Vatican. She retired as a teacher in Berkeley, California. Among the many organizations she belonged to were the NAACP, American Federation of Musicians, National Association of Black Business and Professional Women and the Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority. She married Harry Pellerin and they had one child, Percy.

Rosa the tenth child graduated from Colorado College in Colorado Springs, received her Master's in Social Work from the University of Denver, took post graduate work in Community Psychiatry at the University of California in Berkeley and also studied at the School of Social Work at the University of Hawaii. She also visited Russia with nurses and social workers to study Russia's system of health services delivery. She worked as a Social Worker in Denver and was a Supervisor of the Domestic Violence Pilot Centers Project for the Department of Mental Health in California. She was a founder of the graduate chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority in Denver and for the past 25 years has been a member of the Links of Sacramento, California where she and her husband, Alger Gillespie live.

Bobbie, the eleventh child was a musician, artist, and teacher. As a grade school student she won the state contest for art and as a result, a scholarship to the Fine Arts Center. She graduated with top honors from the Colorado Springs High School and attended Colorado College where she majored in Fine Arts. She received an A-plus rating in "Organ" when, for her final, she ’'boogied" a musical number on the Pipe Organ -- something that had never been attempted before. She married Alfred Brougeois and the couple had seven children, they were Adrienne, Tony, Michelle, Carl, Stephen, Judy and Lisa. Later, she married George Nelson and became the mother of John, April, Charles, and Rose.

In addition, she also gave private music lessons and tutored students in English, Reading, and Mathematics.

More can be found about this family in several publications including "Mr. Bristol and The Little Red School House" by Inez Hunt, The 1983-84 Yearbook of the Negro Historical Association, "The Invisible People of the Pikes Peak Region" by John Holley, and "El Paso County Heritage" by John and Juanita Breckenridge

MR. RUPLE
typed, summer 1910

Mr. Ruple was a quiet spoken little German immigrant machinist, who lived alone in a small house north of the Stroud’s, and was employed by the Midland Terminal railroad in their Colorado City yards just west of Colorado Springs. He and the Stroud's soon became close friends. He ate Sunday dinner with them and usually visited with them for two or three hours every weekday evening. Frequently he would recount his dreams in detail and ask "Katy Did” to interpret them. The elder Stroud was locally famous for analyzing and ferreting out the meanings of dreams.

Mr. Ruple liked all children; but he was especially fond of Dolphus and called the little black boy by, "Fritz”. He frequently bought boxes of animal crackers or cracker jacks for the youngster and would often hold the boy in his lap during his visits with the Strouds. Dolphus regarded Mr. Ruple as being virtually a second father.

The Summer of 1910 was passing beautifully. Late one afternoon Dolphus was watching his brother Albert move ever so slowly toward a Robin, perched on the ground in front of the Stroud residence. The older boy would move ever so gently toward the bird until he could almost touch it. Then, in one swift move he would clutch the Robin in his hand and he and Dolphus would examine it closely before letting it go. The excitement lay in making the catch. Deeply engrossed in Albert’s affair with the Robin, bare footed Colphus moved into a mound of relatively large red ants. As they began to sting the three year old child fell down in the ant hill and began screaming for his mother. Four year old Albert raced into the house to summon her. In the short time it took the little Creek Indian woman to reach the scene Dolphus had been stung by the ants on virtually every part of his body and he was in a very bad way. Mrs. Stroud tore the clothing from her rapidly swelling child and dispatched her older son to get Mr. Ruple to assist.

Mr. Stroud was working in the Coal Shutes of the Rock Island Railroad at Roswell, some five miles north of Colorado Springs.

Mr. Ruple and Dolphus’ mother made a paste of flour and baking soda and covered the boy’s body with it. Then the mother gathered catnip leaves, that grew wild in the neighborhood, and made a strong tea that she fed to the child. His pain had been reduced considerably after application of the flour and baking soda paste. Two days of the tea and paste treatment resulted in a complete physical recovery for Dolphus, but he acquired a tremmendous respect for ants as a result of the experience.

[no title]
handwritten on lined paper, 1910?

Jennie Mitcheltree, Mrs. Stroud’s sister maintained clairvoyant offices above the Busy Corner Drug Store in Colorado Springs, throughout the year 1910. Her business pseudonyms were “Princess Mizpah” and “Princess Azuzina.” Since she claimed to be a princess of India’s ruling family and since her husband, Charles Mitcheltree, who was actually a St. Louis, Missouri, Irish American, purported to be an English Nobleman who had met and married the princess in Bombay she was not subject to the indignities [Crossed out: of a Black American] suffered by American Indians. Dolphus and his brothers looked forward with great delight to a visit from Uncle Charles, Aunt Jennie, and their tree white bull dogs – “Bum, Venida and Cappie,” the pup of Bum & Venida.

The Mitcheltrees took care of their dogs better than most families care for their children. The three canines were put to bed between sheets each night. Bum was a fighting dog and made thousands of dollars in the mining towns of Colorado by defeating – and, usually, killing – other dogs in matched contests.

Uncle Charles always had funny and exciting stories to tell. He and Aunt Jennie followed the circus and carnival circuit much of the time. He served as barker for various side show acts Aunt Jennie was, primarily, a fortune teller, but her avocations included snake charming and escape artist. And when El Paso County Colorado secured its first “escape proof” jail, she demonstrated its vulnerability by having herself hand-cuffed inside one of the escape proof-cells, the cell securely locked, bolted, and secured by a padlock and chain and all the exit doors of the jail building locked. Five minutes later she was outside of the jail. She prided herself on being able to duplicate all the escape tricks of great ones.

Aunt Jenni carried her money in gold and gold certificates. And she and Uncle Charles were quite liberal to the Stroud children – rewarding them with five and ten dollar gold pieces for minor services.

When oil made its appearance in Oklahoma and Texas the Mitcheltrees departed from Colorado Springs to begin their most bizarre and most successful impersonations, confining their operations to the Blacks and Indians who had become rich overnight from the oil lands they held. Uncle Charles proclaimed himself to be the forerunner for the second coming of Christ, who would appear as a beautiful oriental princess. He besought all to get ready by bringing him their money, jewelry, and all earthly possessions so that they might come to Christ clean and uncontaminated by the filthy riches of the World.

Within a matter of days after Charles had left a community Princess “Azuzina” would appear to complete the fleecing of the gullible nativer.

Chickens, Hogs, Sides of Beef all were collected by Charles and Jennie. Such items were shipped to the Strouds in Colorado Springs for use or scale by them. At the time her sister and brother-in-law were carrying out this deception in Oklahoma and Texas, Mrs. Stroud had no inkling of how the goods were being collected. Jennie Mitcheltree revealed this operation many years later when she returned to Colorado Springs for another visit with the Strouds.

The Crucible
two versions: one handwritten on lined paper, with two crossed-out paragraphs (“For better…” and “Kimbal…”) and other corrections, one photocopy, typed, 1910, Dolphus is age 4

Success or Failure?

“Nigger! Nigger! Never Die
Black face and Shiny eyes!
Crooked nose and Crooked toes!
That's the way the Niggers Grow!

For better or for worse Kelley Dolphus Stroud was beginning his life – productive or non-productive – as a four year old, accompanying his older brother and sister, to attend the kindergarten of Bristol school, Colorado Springs, Colorado. Frightened by the taunts, jeers, and threats of the mob of white boys following the three little Blacks reached the comparative safety of the school without suffering physical harm.

Kimbal, seven years old, integrated the third grade at Bristol after written and oral tests proved her capable of performing on that grade level. Albert, the six year old, integrated the first grade while four year old Dolphus integrated the kindergarten. Bristol now had “colored” students.

Four year old Kelley Dolphus Stroud, accompanied by his seven year old sister Kimbal and his five year old brother, Albert, and badly frightened by the insults, jeers, and threats of some twenty-five or thirty white boys who followed, was half running the four blocks from his home on N. Spruce Street, to the Bristol School on N. Walnut Street, in early September of the year of our Lord, 1911.

Various episodes and incidents that helped to mold the character and personality of this impressionable Black youngster will be recounted in the following pages – and from the telling of these experiences and his reaction to them, the reader can judge Kelley Dolphus Stroud a success or failure.

During the first few days of school, the mob of white boys hurling curses and insults at Albert and Dolphus grew larger and bolder. Kimbal, the girl, was not harassed. Soon an occasional stone was hurled along with the verbal insults. Bodily injuries to both of the little black boys (caused by flying stones) forced their mother to seek an audience with the school principal in order to work out a solution. The remedy decided upon by the principal was to have Albert and Dolphus dismissed from their final classes two minutes early every day in order to give the Black brothers a head start in their race for home and safety from the sticks and stones of the white mob.

The principal’s “solution" to Bristol’s “Black Problem” served to aggravate the problem (as my father had predicted). The white boys accepted the challange to “catch the niggers” despite the two minute handicap. They adopted ingenious schemes for getting out of school before dismissal time and attacking the two little Blacks as they left the school grounds. Then, one day in November of 1911, Alfred Cunningham, a first cousin to the Stroud’s was asked to look after the Stroud children when they returned from school, since Mrs. Stroud had to be downtown that evening.

The white mob had grown larger and more vicious every day. On this particular afternoon the mob attacked as Albert and Dolphus stepped off the school grounds. The two little Blacks were struck with straps and sticks as they began to run. Then rocks began to fly as the fleeing black tots began to outdistance their pursuers. Out of breath and sore from the beatings and barrage of stones Albert and Dolphus burst into the front room of their home at 701 N. Spruce Street.

But the white mob did not leave. Instead its numbers increased, its curses grew louder, and its members began hurling rocks at the house, breaking out the living room window. The Stroud kiddies were terrified and stuck close to Cousin Alfred for protection.

As the sound of rocks crashing against the house reached a crescendo and the mob inched closer and closer, Alfred asked if my father had a gun. Kimbal, the oldest child, showed him where the loaded Colt-45 revolver was kept in the bottom of my mother’s truck. Unhesitantingly, Alfred took the revolver, stepped out on the porch and fired two shots over the heads of the mobsters. Every one of them took to his heels. Alfred restored the gun to its place in the trunk and hastily departed. When he was heard from again (two years later) the letter was post marked Manila, Phillipine Islands, and came from Pvt, First Class, Alfred Cunningham.

The police raided the Stroud home moments after Alfred’s departure. The three little Strouds provided no information and their mother was even less helpful when she arrived from Downtown during the middle of the police investigation. The two little Stroud boys, Albert and Dolphus, never had to run home from Bristol School again with a white mob in hot pursuit.

AFTER SUPPER
typed, approx. 1912, Dolphus is in elementary school

After supper the dishes had been washed and the chimleys for the coal-oil lamps had been cleaned, the entire Stroud brood would gather frequently in the front room of the four room house to be entertained by the Father. Sometimes he would play the French Harp, sometimes he would sing, (he had an excellent voice and sang religious and country songs), and sometimes he would lead the children in games such as, “William, William! Tremble Toe” and “Birds Fly”. All of these activities had educational values. All the Stroud siblings learned to spell “chicken" almost as soon as they learned to talk – because of the following verses sung to them by the Father.

“In a little country school house
Where the little Darkies go
There is a little pick-a-ninny
By the name of Rag-Time Joe
And when it comes to spelling
His rag-time brain works fast
The only well learned scholar
That held up his own class
One day the teacher called on the class
To spell one solid word
That kind of word was chicken
And they could not spell the bird
So the teacher called on Rag-Time Joe
To spell that word for them
He didn’t hesitate a bit
This is the way he began
"C”, That’s the way it begins
“H”, That’s the next letter in
“I”, and that am the third
And “C”, That’s the seed in the bird
"K”, That’s filling in
“E”, I’m near the end
C H I C K E N !
That’s the way to spell chicken.

He also told stories about things that occurred on the Stroud plantation during slavery days, and about ghosts and witches. Bible stories formed an integral part of these story telling sessions. Knowledge of the Stroud genealogy was acquired by the Stroud children during these after supper sessions, as well. And it was in these same sessions that the special code of ethics to be used in dealing with white persons was drilled into the children. Survival of Blacks in the hostile white society of the early 1900’s depended upon adherence to the code. Some of the major tenets of this code follow:

1. Never think of white persons as objects of romantic interest.
2. If a white person (and most especially, a law officer) asks you where a black person is or in what direction he has gone, always send the white person in the wrong direction.
3. Never trust a white person in any dealings what-so-ever.
4. There is nothing wrong with using subterfuges to gain from the white man proper pay for a day’s work.
5. Never hunt work for your wife! Never shine a white man’s shoes! Never vote a Democratic ticket.
6. Never act the role of an Uncle Tom. Never assist in the apprehension and arrest of a black man charged with any offense against a white.
7. Always keep a loaded gun for protection from unexpected attacks by Whites and, if the situation demands that the gun be used, try to take at least ten Whites in to eternity with you.
8. Always carry salt and pepper with you and use it in your tracks in case you are being chased by bloodhounds. (Most Blacks had fled from the bloodhounds at one time or another during the latter 19th and early 20th century.)
9. Stay out of White areas of all cities after dark.
10. Avoid being in white areas on weekends when the young white men are spoiling for so-called fun at the expense of some hapless Black.

The importance of the north star was explained to the little Strouds. Each was shown the big and little dippers and the last star in the handle of the little dipper was the north star. Once the big dipper was found an imaginary line, based on the two far stars in the cup of the big dipper, could be extended to intersect the north star. In the event they were forced to flee from a white mob they must travel at night--always bearing north--and hide during the daylight hours. They were also told that the moss grows on the north side of the trees and that knowledge could serve as a guide on cloudy nights. And, as a last resort the Father showed his children how to read a compass and explained why the needle always pointed to the north magnetic pole. And this parent, whose formal schooling had ended in the third grade of a little country school house ten miles from Corsicana, Texas, explained the principles of magnetism to his children, showed them how to stroke a non-magnetized piece of iron with a magnet in order to create magnetic powers in the former and how to bury a non-magnetic iron bar in the ground with its ends in line with the earth’s axis and, digging it up three days later, finding that it had acquired magnetic properties.

The Stroud children learned a great deal at the feet of their parents and were well advanced beyond their grade levels upon entering Bristol School. This placed them in the enigmatic position of being the brains of their classes because of their knowledge, and the butt of all jokes and embarrassments because of the color-phobia of White America.

FIGHTS
photocopy, typed, 1912-1918

Being non-aggressive by nature, Dolphus had very few fights. All of these were inter-racial and more or less forced upon him. The first few were efforts to defend himself against gang attacks by white boys.

In the first grade when the lad was barely six years old a group of boys jumped on him and forced him to a sitting position. Then they bent his head forward toward his chest and pressed it harder and harder until there was an audible snap as though something had broken. Veldon Long happened up shortly afterwards and remonstrated with the group; saying, “Let him alone, fellows! He can’t help it cause he’s Black!” Veldon and his two brothers, Floyd and Donald, were the most highly respected boys at Bristol, and the attackers obeyed Veldon.

With Veldon’s help Dolphus regained his feet, but he experienced sharp, excruciating pain when he tried to raise his head to an upright position or attempted to turn it from side to side. By afternoon a big knot had appeared at the back of Dolphus’ neck at the point where the top of the back bone meets the neck bones. That knot and a decidedly restricted ability to turn his head from side to side are first grade souvenirs Dolphus has retained ever since.

Dolphus and Veldon remained good friends throughout their school careers. Nonetheless, the older boys forced them into two fights as third graders. The first fight was instigated by a threat on the part of the seventh and eighth grade boys to whip both if they did not fight. The second was stimulated by an offer of 25 cents to the winner. Both fights were stopped by administrative personnel before a decision had been reached.

The final grammar school fight took place when Dolphus was a seventh grader. An older and larger boy, Norman Jones, called Dolphus a “nigger.” Fisticuffs followed, with Dolphus having a slight edge when school authorities stopped hostilities. Both boys were sent to their 7th grade class under Miss Bonnie B. Boardman. This teacher scolded both and then sent Norman to his seat. Turning to Dolphus Miss Bonnie B. said, “You should be utterly ashamed of yourself! Don’t you know you were honored to be allowed to go to this school with white girls and boys? Before you can re-enter this class you’ll have to apologize for fighting on the school grounds and you’ll have to make the same apology to every class room in the entire school.” Dolphus refused to make the apologies unless Norman were subjected to the same ordeal. Bonnie B. Boardman reiterated her assertion that her lone Black student should feel highly honored to get to attend school with whites and added that he should not expect to be treated like a white boy.

Mrs. Shannon was the Bristol principal at that time. For the next month Dolphus spent his school days in her office, barred from class for refusing to make the apology. Then the matter was brought to the attention of the higher officials of the school district. They presented Dolphus with an ultimatum -- Apologize or be sent to the Colorado State Industrial School at Golden, Colorado.

Mrs. Stroud had remained at her son’s side up to this time. But in the face of seeing him branded as incorrigible and the possibility of having his future destroyed by the harsh treatment he’d probably be subjected to at Golden, she asked him to make the apologies. For his mother’s sake Dolphus sacrificed his pride, endured the embarrassment, and tasted the bitter gall of standing before the students in all eight Bristol class rooms and saying, “I’m sorry I got into a fight on the school grounds and I want each of you to forgive me.” Bonnie B. Boardman was Blonde, Blue eyed, and Golden haired; but, in Dolphus’ opinion, she was the World’s Ugliest Person.

THE PARTY
photocopy, typed, 1912-1918

Like a typical youngster of six years, Dolphus joined the boys of his first grade class in teasing the girls on the way home from Bristol School. One afternoon his mother was sitting on the front porch watching as her son chased one of the girls, pulling at her long golden braids in the course of the play. When Dolphus climbed the steps to the porch his mother called him to her side and said, “Bunk, (that was the affectionate nickname the family had given Dolphus) you mustn’t chase after the little white girls and pull their hair.”

“But I was only playing,” her son protested. “The girls know I’m not going to hurt them.”

“Yes, I know.” Mrs. Stroud replied. “But don’t you play with white girls that way anymore! If you want to chase girls, find some colored girls to chase!” This was Dolphus’ introduction to the social frustration of the Black youngsters maturing in the small towns of the north. They were brain-washed constantly by every possible means of communication into believing that the only acceptable heroines were golden-haired, blue-eyed, blondes – but these most desirable creatures, sitting beside them in class rooms hour after hour each day, must remain as untouchable as the most distant star.

Stone by stone as one incident followed another, the social wall between Black and white was constructed for Dolphus. By the time he had reached the sixth grade he knew that extra-curricular social events held at the school or at the homes of classmates – and even class room games that involved even the remotest social contact, though held during regular school hours – were not intended for him.

One afternoon in the sixth grade a game was being played that called for each pupil to be seated at his desk; except for one, who was called the “odd ball.” The start of a victrola record was the signal for the “odd ball” to race to a desk occupied by a student of opposite sex and sit beside its occupant, who in turn must rise and repeat the procedure at another desk. Whoever was the “odd ball” when the music stopped was obliged to pay a pawn.

Knowing that he would have no part in the game, Dolphus had opened his arithmetic book and was working on the next day’s assignment. Suddenly he detected a soft gentle perfume and the gentle touch of a soft little body pushing against him. Glancing to his side he saw that it was Eleanor Young, the girl he secretly adored, who sat beside him. Dolphus was so excited he forgot momentarily about the game and had to be reminded by the teacher that he was the “odd ball.” This incident caused a slight crack in Dolphus’ social wall.

A short time later on a Sunday morning Dolphus and several of his brothers and sisters were walking through Monument Valley Park on the way to St. John’s Baptist Church. There was a call from behind. It was Eleanor Young and her younger brother and sister on the way to the Christian Science Church. She asked to join the Strouds for the distance they would be going in the same direction. Dolphus was in ecstasy so great that he uttered no more than five or six words during the half-mile walk. But the crack in his social wall was dangerously enlarged.

In the late spring of 1918 Ruth Gustafson, a Bristol sixth-grader, invited all the members of the class to a birthday party at her home. Arrangements were made with school officials for the class to go en masse to the Gustafson home immediately after morning classes were completed. A formal invitation to the party was issued to each class member with formal acceptance requested. After some soul searching Dolphus wrote a note of regret that he could not attend.

The following morning before the school bell rang Ruth came over the boys’ side of the play ground and in front of a large group of Bristol’s finest asked Dolphus to please change his mind and come to her party. The boys began chanting, “Ruth likes a nigger! Ruth likes a nigger!” Dolphus really wanted to attend the party – and this along with desiring to spare Ruth further embarrassment – made him agree to come and to write a formal acceptance.

Promptly at noon on the party day Dolphus, dressed in his blue serge suit, left Bristol School with white classmates to walk to Ruth’s home on the corner of Spruce Street and St. Vrein. All were met at the door by the Rev. and Mrs. Gustafson. Ruth’s father was pastor of the Luteran Church.

The party was wonderful. Many games were played and refreshments, including ice cream and cake, were served. Dolphus led the way in thanking his hosts for an enjoyable afternoon. Then after good byes had been said and all were ready to leave the Rev. Gustafson said, “I am glad to have had all of you here – even this little colored boy.” Dolphus felt humiliation such as he had not felt since the reading of the story of the Tar Baby in his third grade class room. He bowed his head and quickly started for home, not waiting for his classmates. Throughout the remainder of his grammar school days and his entire high school career he never attended another white social function. The crack in the social wall had been reinforced with steel.

Miss Huntoon / Miss Eubank
photocopy, typed, autumn 1913; “Huntoon” is crossed-out throughout and replaced with “Eubank”

September of 1913, K. Dolphus Stroud was beginning the third grade at Bristol School. Miss Eubank, the youngest, most beautiful, and kindest member of the Bristol faculty was his teacher. His father was employed by the City of Colorado Springs to work on its road and gravel pit gang for a handsome $2.25 per day. And there were now five siblings (Kimbal, Albert, Dolphus, Effie, and Tandy) in the Stroud family. Prosperity had reached its peak.

Calamity came in October – a white slip telling the father he was being laid off his job until the Summer of 1914, when the gravel pit and road gang would be reactivated. Since the family had no reserves, the effects were immediate. Albert and Dolphus, who had been wearing old womens’ high top button shoes that were given to the family by friends and acquaintances, had to give up their hopes of acquiring boys’ shoes that year. The women’s shoes had been a constant butt of jokes and teasing from the Bristol School boys, whose parents were more affluent. And Dolphus had resorted to the practice of removing his shoes at the Bristol Grocery and leaving them hidden in the bushes there until school was dismissed in the afternoon. Then he would recover the shoes and wear them home. There was no stigma attached to being barefooted at school. By mid November Dolphus was coming to Miss Eubank’s third grade class barefooted in the snow. The concerned little teacher stopped by the Stroud home to ask why Dolphus was being sent to school shoeless in the snow. Mrs. Stroud was aghast when she learned of the trickery her son had been practicing with respect to the shoes and a sound spanking and scolding corrected the situation.

By December the Strouds were out of fuel, food, and credit. Dolphus was with his father when the latter pled for one sack of flour on credit from the Bristol Grocery. The grocer refused. Dolphus often accompanied his mother along Cascade Ave. and Wood Ave. as she went door to door seeking bundles of clothing to launder by hand for a pittance. And Dolphus and Albert went to the barren corn fields of West Colorado Springs to pick up the abandoned ears of corn left in these fields. Their mother would remove the hard grains from the ears, place the in a flour sack, and beat them with a hammer until they were ground into a coarse meal. This meal she would empty onto a bread board and blow the husks away with a hand bellows. The bread for the family was made from this meal.

Heat was secured by burning old magazines and newspapers, worn out automobile tires, old shoes, etc. Breakfast for the school age Strouds consisted of five or six grains of hard corn parched on the top of the stove. A Mrs. Watkins, who worked as a cook at a T.B. Convalescent home at 1215 N. Nevada Ave., brought the Strouds their supper each night. It consisted of whatever cooked food had been left over after the patients had eaten their supper.

One December morning, shortly before Christmas, Dolphus came to school after his breakfast of six grains of corn. He had a headache and his vision was blurry. Miss Eubank, noticing that her only Black student was suffering, asked him what was wrong. Dolphus’ reply was direct and simple, “I am hungry.” Miss Eubank said nothing, but her eyes moistened. She took the little black boy by the hand and led him to a basement area of Bristol School that Dolphus had never seen before. There were tables with white cloths on them, plates and glasses. Graham crackers (he had never eaten one before) and milk were ordered for Dolphus by his teacher – and she instructed the attendant to give the little boy all the graham crackers and milk he wanted every morning until he graduated from the Bristol School – and to send her the bill each month.

From her name she must have been Swiss or Scotch – but she was the finest teacher in the world to Dolphus.

POVERTY and CULTURE
typed, 1914?

Despite the Stroud family’s poverty and the lack of formal schooling on the part of the parents, Dolphus and his brothers and sisters were reared in a highly cultured environment. The Bible and John Bunyan’s “Pilgrim’s Progress'' were the main guides to living and to the development of relationships with others. The Golden Rule was the major law governing such relationships. Shelves of old, tattered, well thumbed books lined the walls of the front room. These books were read and re-read by the children and each child secured a borrower’s card from the Colorado Springs Public Library as soon as he reached the required age.

Poets and poetry had probably reached the pinnacle of appreciation in America during the 20th Century years before 1914. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, John Greenleaf Whittier, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Ralph Waldo Emerson, Rudyard Kipling, Helen Hunt Jackson, James Whitcomb Riley, William Cullen Bryan, Robert Burns, Edgar Allen Poe, Sir Walter Scott, Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, were almost like members of the Stroud household. Their names came up daily in family discussions. Their writings lined the shelves in the front room, and every child had memorized one or more poems by each of these authors. Beautiful language along with the statement of some moral principle generally characterized the poems or passages memorized. Thus, the concluding paragraph of “Thanatopsis” was memorized by every child while the opening lines of Evangeline, “This is the Forest Primeval”

“The murmuring pines and the hemlocks
Stand like the druids of Eld
With voices sad and pathetic,
While loud from its rocky cavern
The deep voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks! And in accents disconsolate
Answers the wail of the forest.’

received equal treatment.

Mr. Stroud, himself, wrote poems in his spare time. These were done frequently for the children to recite on church and school programs. Dolphus’ first poem, recited on a children’s Day Program at Emanuel Presbyterian Church, was authored by his father.

“Little fishy in the brook
Father caught him with a hook.
Mamma fried him in a Pan
And I ate him, like a man.”

Mr. Stroud wrote at least a thousand poems - all longer and deeper than the little four line rhyme prepared for Dolphus’s first stage appearance. He also wrote many plays, mostly centered around biblical accounts that were presented by his children in church and school programs. And he composed a variety of religious songs.

One stanza of a long poem his father wrote about the Eagle, was especially impressive to Dolphus.

“I saw an Eagle on her nest so high.
I heard her young ones bawl and cry.
She took one on her wings so high
To try and see if he could fly.
She drooped her wings then let him down
She watched him as he tried to soar
And saw that he was falling sure.
With lightning speed she darted down
And caught him before he hit the ground.”

[handwritten: “missing paragraph”]

MEETING THE HAGERMANS
photocopy, typed, January 1914

With the advent of the year 1914, there was a general improvement in the outlook for the Strouds. Albert and Dolphus secured a route of five furnaces to fire every morning and evening, and their Father was in the ash hauling business for himself.

Mr. Ruple, the little German machinist, had loaned Mr. Stroud ten dollars, with which to make a down payment on “Old George” and a wagon. Moreover, a great amount of snow was falling in Colorado Springs that year -- so much that it measured more than 4 feet on the level. That meant a great amount of sidewalk cleaning.

Mr. Jones, the man from whom Dolphus’ father purchased “Old George” and the wagon, had a good many ashpit customers -- and these were given to Stroud. Also, Kimbal, the oldest child, was working after school hours as maid for a lady who lived on North Weber Street, close to the Colorado Springs High School. Moreover, a very slight trickle of the economic boom the U.S. was experiencing as the result of hostilities in Europe, was makig its way to the Strouds – rags, newspapers, magazines, iron, metal, bones, bottles, tin foil, and various other salvageable items were saved during the week and sold each Saturday to one of the many Jewish junk dealers who “worked” the neighborhood streets. But the most significant event that occurred to the Strouds that year was the beginning of their friendship with the Hagermans. This was a prominent millionaire Colorado Springs family that, for some reason, explainable only as the goodness of their hearts, took the poor, dirty, black family to their bosoms and saw to it that no member of that family ever experienced real hunger again. Vegetables from their huge estate, apples and cherries from their orchards, chickens, ducks, eggs, and both rich goat and cow milk were provided whenever the Strouds could use such things -- and when the demands of World War I removed wheat flour from American tables, the Hagermans had twenty sacks of graham flour shipped to the black family from the Hagerman ranches in New Mexico and Minnesota. Mrs. Percy Hagerman and her two daughters, Anne and Elinor, gave of themselves. The two white girls joined in games and hikes with the Strouds. And Mrs. Hagerman and Elinor assisted in the births of each new Stroud baby, suggesting names and giving the infants their daily baths. Percy and Lowry, father and son, of the Hagermans’ had little personal contact with the Strouds; but their discarded suits, shoes, and shirts kept Dolphus and Albert in good warm clothing at no cost.

EARLY EMPLOYMENT
two versions: handwritten on lined paper and photocopy, typed, 1914, Dolphus is seven

Among the rural black families of the early 1900’s, a child was considered to reach the age of a producer at seven. On the cotton plantations this was a smooth transisiton from irresponsible play to working alongside mother, father, and older brothers and sisters in the fields. In Colorado it meant trying to find a job.

Dolphus made the transition to productive family member by securing furnaces to fire between 4:30 and 6:00 in the mornings and between 4:00 and 5:30 p.m. One must marvel that in an intelligent city like Colorado Springs white persons would grant the responsibility of firing, cleaning and maintaining both steam and hot air heating systems to two little Black boys. (Albert and Dolphus worked together on their furnace routes). Flues had to be cleaned regularly to assure that the furnace did not smoke and, possibly, poison the sleepers with carbon monoxide fumes. Combustible materials had to be employed to light the furnaces whenever the coals were allowed to burn out. Ashes had to be removed and emptied into the ashpit, usually at the back of the lot. A close eye had to be kept on the pressure guage to assure that the water tank did not overheat and explode. And fires had to be banked expertly so that the coal placed in the furnace would burn slowly and at an even temperature either all day or all night.

When snow came, additional money was earned by cleaning sidewalks and paths. In the summer it was more difficult to earn. Furnaces were shut down and all the youngsters were out of school competing for the few steady jobs Colorado Springs could offer its little Black boys. The Black girls found ready employment as cooks and maids in the hotels and boarding houses where the tourist season meant a big boom in such businesses. Dolphus made what he could by walking the streets and alleys with a gunny sack and whellbarrow salvaging saleable junk – rags, bottles, metal, bones, magazines, tires, inner tubes and tin-foil citrate of magnesia bottles were the most desired item, since they brought 5¢ at any drug store.

Frustrated at finding no jobs in the “Wanted Male Help” columns of either the Evening Telegraph or morning Gazette, Dolphus began examining “The Female Help Wanted” columns. There he spotted an ad by a Rothrock family asking for a maide to care for a year old boy and do light housework. The pay was $7.00 weekly, Dolphus applied for and got the job, beginning his career in the Colorado Springs labor market.

The Furnace Route
photocopy, typed, 1915-1920

From 1915 until 1920 Albert and Dolphus maintained a morning-evening furnace route in Colorado Springs. Mrs. Barndollar of 410 N. Cascade Avenue, who ran a huge boarding house primarily for school teachers, was their first customer and remained as their most ardent booster for the entire five years. Most of the time there were five furnaces on the Stroud route. Each had to be fired and banked every morning and evening and the ashes had to be shaken down and carried out to the ash pit. On Saturdays the flues had to be cleaned and the water pan filled to insure proper humidity for the hot air furnaces. (There were three main types of furnaces: Hot air, Steam, and Hot water.)

Between three and four hours were required to make the furnace route each morning. So Albert and Dolphus had to leave home at 4 AM. The boys followed a path through Monument Valley Park each morning, taking a short cut over frozen Monument Lake and then up the hill to Cascade Avenue. Habitually the boys jumped on the ice of the lake at the boat landing where the water was about six feet in depth.

One cold dark morning in early January of 1916, with the temperature hovering at ten below zero, Dolphus was the first to jump on the Lake. Instead of ice he was immersed in frigid water. Albert grabbed his brother and pulled him from the water as quickly as the latter came to the surface. It was good half mile to the first furnace and Dolphus’ clothing was freezing solid on him the instant he got out of the water. Albert removed most of his outer clothing and wrapped it around Dolphus and they hurried as rapidly as possible to 410 N. Cascade. Albert got the Barndollar furnace to roaring and told Dolphus to remove his clothing and hang it close to the fire to dry as soon as he had thawed out sufficiently to do so. The older boy then raced away to fire the remaining four furnaces alone. When he returned to Mrs. Barndollar’s Dolphus was good and warm and his clothing had dried sufficiently to be worn over the paper that Albert wrapped his brother in.

Since both boys were ice skaters they knew that sizeable bodies of water have an unfrozen air hole when they freeze. This provides a breathing point for the water so that oxygen is available for the aquatic life. But, until that January morning the air hole had never formed at the boat landing.

Besides their furnace route the two older Stroud boys had to clean out the horses’ stalls and put down fresh straw, curry and brush the horses, feed them hay and grain, and frequently take a horse and wagon to the L.M. Hunt, H.A. Robinson, or Hagen Fuel and Feed Company to get hay and grain for the livestock. And about twice weekly they had to go to Pikes Peak Fuel Company for a No. 3 tub full of Canon City lump coal. These chores left the boys no time for mischief making.

THE TAR BABY
photocopy, typed, 1915, Dolphus is in fourth grade

One of the most traumatic experiences of Dolphus’s life occurred in the fourth grade at Bristol School. The young lad had read every story in the fourth grade reader even before he began the Fall semester; and he knew the story of the Tar Baby was included in the book; but he had not expected that story to be selected for reading aloud in the class. As always, Dolphus was the only Black child in his class.

In reading aloud the teacher would have the students come to the front of the room and read one or two paragraphs to the class. This was done in turn until each student had performed.

As the various readers detailed the construction of the Tar Baby as stated in the book, Dolphus could feel the eyes of his white classmates converging on him. He cast his eyes to the floor and sank lower and lower in his seat. “Thick read lips, large flat nose, kinky hair” and “When Mr. Rabbit had finished the creation looked like a genuine little nigger baby.” (The book said “Nigger baby” in those days.)

Humiliation, shame, embarrassment these were the feelings Dolphus had to endure for many days after the reading of that story by his classmates -- and not infrequently, he was called tar baby by many of the older boys at Bristol.

The Family Business
handwritten on lined paper, 1915

Kimbal D. Stroud entered into an agreement with Fred Jones in the year 1915 to purchase the horse, wagon and ash hauling business owned by the latter for the sum of $50.00 – Terms: $10.00 down and $10.00 per month for four months. The initial $10.00 for the down payment was borrowed from Mr. Ruple. This transaction marked the beginning of the family business which was to sustain the Strouds through the rearing of eleven children. Mr. Stroud was buying a lifetime of hard, humble, difficult, and frustrating outdoor labor that prospered best when Colorado’s winters were the most severe; but he was becoming his own independent man with no white boss to holler at him, call him boy, or fire him – and this outweighed all else. Moreover, the 4 1/2 years he spent in the Roswell Coal Chutes of the Rock Island Railroad working 12 hours daily and 7-days every week, from a year after he first arrived in Colorado until early 1914, had hardened him to the coldest weather Colorado could produce.

When not otherwise engaged Albert and Dolphus accompanied their Father on the ash wagon, loading the tin cans, bottles, and trash that would be piled around the outside of the ashpits. A gunny sack and a number 3 galvanized iron wash tub, carried on the wagon, were utilized to salvage saleable material, such as: rubber of all kinds including tires and innertubes, whiskey and beer bottles, vinegar bottles, cider jugs, citrate of magnesium bottles, rags, magazines, all types of metals from iron to pewter, Ti-lead, and Tin foil, Bones, Broom handles, and leather shoes, (if the leather were still soft), horse shoes and bunny sacks. Citrate of magnesium bottles were the most prized salvage items, since they could be sold at any and every drug store for five cents each. Other salvage items had to be carried home, sorted and stored until the amount was sufficient to carry to a place of sale – or for calling one of the junk dealers.

Broom handles sold for 2¢ each but had to be taken to a broom factory on W. Huerfane Ave. Cider jugs were sold for 5¢ each to old man Gillette, who owned the Gillette Place extending directly north of the Stroud residence on Walnut St. all the way to the Mesa Rd. The place included a huge apple orchard, farming acreage, and 50 or 60 beehives, whose occupants secured much of the nectar for their honey from the contents of the Stroud “out house” The recycling capability of these bees was evidenced in the fact that honey from the Gillette hives usually won first prize at the annual state fair held in Pueblo, Colorado. The Strouds did not buy Gillette honey as they were too intimately associated with the raw material from which it was produced.

Horse shoes, if re-usable, were sold at Blacksmith Shops for 5¢ up – depending on their condition. Old leather shoes were sold to the shoe makers on a barter basis. The other items of salvage were sold to the junk dealers – usually Mr. Leften or Mr. Superstein – at fluctuating pound or (dozen frate in case of bottles)

The manure from the barn was saved in a huge pile in the Stroud back yard all the year round and was sold during the Fall and Spring for fertilizing lawns and gardens. During the Fall of 1916 the Stroud ash hauling business had grown to the point that a second horse and wagon were required. Mr. Stroud made a deal with Mr. Leften for his horse and wagon. The horse was christened, “Leften,” and joined Old “George” in the Stroud barn. When Albert and Dolphus were in school a variety of unreliable, unintelligent and non-productive individuals were hired on a “50%” of the earnings” basis to drive the second wagon; but after school hours and on Saturdays the two oldest Stroud boys took over. Mamma was the family treasurer, receiving all earnings from every source and making all disbursements. With the final payment on the oldest bill to the Hemingway Grocery Co. (a bill which had been owing for about four years) the Strouds became fully solvent – owning not one penny to anyone.

Mamma and Father held a family discussion and it was decided that the house at 810 N. Walnut St. should be purchased. Mamma and Mrs. Pierce, the white owner, who lived in the 400 block on N. Weber St. agreed on a price of $600.00 with $50.00 down and $10.00 per month. The house lacked, inside toilet or bath facilities, Electric lights, or furnace. It had just four rooms and a small dirt basement. There was no sewer hook-up – a cesspool in the back yard, covered with 2”x6” planks and a sprinkling of earth, provided drainage for the kitchen sink, which was serviced by a single cold water faucet. But the Strouds felt a surge of pride at taking the initial steps to becoming property owners for the first time in their collective lives.

As the War in Europe intensified and America’s meddling in the age old European disagreements increased a severe shortage of ashmen developed in Colorado Springs. For the first time in history the law of Supply and Demand began to operate in favor of the ash man. And, best of all, Government did not meddle in the operation of small domestic businesses.

With a maximum capacity to clean 12 to 14 ashpits each day and from 20 to 30 new orders arriving in the same period the Strouds were selective in the jobs they did, choosing those that were deemed most advantageous to their long range interests. In addition, charges were increased until they more than doubled the 1915 prices. The business began to gross between forty and fifty dollars weekly.

The ash pit season began in late September each year and continued until May or June. December, January, and February tested the ashman’s fortitude. Temperatures in Colorado Springs were below freezing most of the time. And some days, with the temperature never warming above ten degrees below zero, the ash man would be out in the weather from 7 in the morning until 8 or 9 p.m. without a single opportunity to step inside any shelter what-so-ever. The most difficult part of the work on such days was sitting on the board across the front of the wagon (that served as a seat) and driving the long distance to the dump. Sometimes fingers or toes would freeze. Albert and Dolphus protected themselves by walking and running beside the wagon and shifting the reins from one hand to the other.

The most exhilarating feeling the ash man experienced on the below zero days was finding a pit containing hot ashes. This gave him the opportunity to enjoy temporary warmth for feet and hands. The most traumatic experience was arriving at a pit where the ashes had been wet down periodically as the pit filled so that it would hold more ashes. A crow bar had to be used to loosen the bricks at the mouth of the pit and to break up the frozen ashes so they could be shoveled out. The average pit had a capacity of about 1-cubic yard, although there were some large ones that had 2 and 3-yard capacities.

On these cold winter days the ultimate joy came when, long after dark, the ash man unhitched his horse, put him in the barn, gave him his oats and hay, and then entered the warm house with hands and feet, numbed from cold, ready to go into a bucket of snow or ice water to reactivate the circulation in fingers and toes.

Dolphus wrote the following verses after one such day.
“Just a cozy corner behind the stove
And a place to prop my feet,
A book of grand romance and love
And a pan of nuts to eat.
That’s the heighth of bliss to me,
All to which I aspire.
And who can answer this for me?
What more could man desire?”

The Right to Do Wrong
two versions: handwritten on lined paper and photocopy, typed, spring 1915

When a minority is segregated, persecuted, and discriminated against, the most important right it lacks and needs to struggle for is the right to do wrong. The Blacks of Colorado Springs had no such right.

From the White perspective Colorado Springs had been and was a good city. It had treated its Blacks with more consideration than that shown by most Western and Southern municipalities. Virtually no ordinances denying to Blacks the rights and privileges enjoyed by Colorado Springs’ “whole” people were on the backs. Except for an ordinance forbidding intermarriage and miscegenation; and a few to assure that Blacks would not become patrons in places of public accommodation catering to whites, such as hotels and barber shops, the day to day relationships between Blacks and Whites was left to tradition and the Black man’s super keen sensitivity of what whites would allow a Black to do.

On the plus side: Colorado Springs was relatively good: -
1. Blacks could vote in all national, state, and municipal elections.
2. Blacks could legally walk on the sidewalks in all parts of the city.
3. Blacks could attend the Public Schools.
4. Blacks were not segregated on street cars and trains.
5. One theater in the City permitted Blacks to sit in its balcony.
6. Blacks could purchase and own property.
On the negative side it was less restrictive and oppressive than most cities.
1. Blacks could not dine in white cafes (There were no Black cafes since the black population of some 200 to 300 persons was too small to support one.)
2. Blacks could not attend the four major theaters but were admitted to the balcony of the Odeon, the city’s poorest theater, located on the East side of Nevada Ave., Just south of Pikes Peak Ave,
3. Colorado City, a west side area lying between Colorado Springs and Manitou, (once the state Capitol and later to be annexed to Colorado Springs) was very hostile to Blacks. Custom decreed that Blacks keep off the side walks when passing through Colorado City.
The Bass family (Black) lived on Huerfano St. (later changed to Colorado Ave.) in Colorado City. They were substantially mixed with both Indian and White and had “grand fathers” rights to their position in the community. Mr. Bass was famous as a cowboy, horse breaker, and trainer. His family was highly respected and accepted as full fledged members of the Colorado City community. They suffered no discrimination.
4. Blacks had no place to swim despite the construction of a beautiful public swimming pool with municipal funds in city owned Monument Valley Park.
5. Blacks had no place to play basketball and could neither join the Y.M.C.A. nor use any of its facilities.
6. Of all the indoor facilities for playing basketball in the City not one permitted Blacks to bounce a basketball on its court.
7. Whenever a Black Boy had to go outside his own neighborhood it was wise to fill his pockets with throw size stones since chances were better than 50-50 that he would have a running battle with a group of White boys before he got back to home grounds.
8. Many whites enjoyed “siccing” their dogs

One Spring evening in 1915, all the Black males in Colorado Springs became Big Burly Black Brutes Extra editions of boy the Morning Gazette and the evening Telegraph proclaimed that such a character had attacked the Marshall girl, a Colorado College Coed. (Her brother, Kenneth, was Dolphus’ 3rd grade class mate) Blacks had no right to be suspected of doing wrong. [this sentence appears verbatim in both versions of the manuscript.]

Sexual separation of the Black male and the White female was America’s number one priority during the first half of the 20th century. All the police and armed forces of the nation were on constant alert to prevent Black male-white female relations. And when a mere rumor that such a relationship had occurred, willing or unwillingly, was let loose in a community all its police forces and those of the state were mobilized.

Americanism in its highest and purest form amounted to Deification of the white Female sex organ. Instead of stars and stripes the National Emblem should have portrayed such an organ by drawing, painting, or photograph. This was the sacred symbol, reserved for the exclusive enjoyment of the white man, but to which all Americans must swear allegiance and for which they must willingly give their lives. This true ideal of America was hidden beneath a mass of patriotic slogans and platitudes. Preservation of racial purity, Nordic superiority, miscegenation, the white man’s Burden, Big Burly Black Brute, Carpet baggers obscured the white American male over-obsession with the White Female sex organ.

Within hours Colorado Springs became a place of terror for Blacks. All the young Black males between the ages of 16 and 40 were summarily arrested and jailed. Any Blacks caught on the streets by roving bands of Whites were tied behind cars and dragged through the streets mass rapings of Black girls by white men were ignored by police. Blacks were dismissed from their jobs. The whites of Colorado Springs reacted like savage beasts.

Blood hounds were pressed into service by Police Chief Hugh D. Harper to supposedly track down the guilty party. (How this could be done with no initial scent to give them is difficult to understand. But after the hounds had followed innumerable scents in various directions they finally followed one that, according to police testimony led into the East Side Black neighborhood and to the home of a Mrs. Douglas who had a 16-year old son name Gerard.

Like some other Black Teenagers this particular young man had left the city as the wholesale jailing of Blacks began. Some fled to Pueblo and a few fled to Denver, Upon a police guarantee that Gerard would be held in a jail safe from the lynching fever that pervaded Colorado Springs, Rev. Wayman Ward of Payne Chapel A.M.E. Church (of which Gerard was a member) persuaded the young Black too surrender to the Colorado Springs officers.

Needless to say, Gerard, poor, with only a widowed mother to stand by him, a court appointed white lawyer, an all white Jury, was quickly found guilty and sentenced to life in prisonment at the Colorado State penitentiary in Canon City. When he emerged from prison some twenty-five or thirty years later the reports Dolphus received from Colorado Springs correspondents, was that Gerard had been castrated and that he was mentally off.

A year or so after the Gerard Douglas case Colorado Springs finally returned to its normal pattern of segregation and discrimination instead of the violent insane attitude it had assumed toward all its Blacks – because one had been accused of wrong doing.

MUSIC
typed, 1915

[handwritten: “missing paragraph”]

She was born in Old Kentucky
Where the meadow grass is blue
She’s the sunshine of her Country
By her faith in Manitou.
She was born in Old Kentucky
Take her boy! You’re mighty lucky
When you marry a girl
Like Sue.” and “On the Banks
of the Wabash.”

Kimbal D. Stroud sang religious songs and Country and Cowboy songs - most of which recounted a tragedy. Sam Bass, StaggerLee, Jesse James, Bury Me not on the Lone Prarie, After the Ball, The Ship That Never Returned, I’ll Be All Smiles Tonight Love, I’ll Remember You Love in My Prayers, and Three Leaves of Shamrock were all in his repertoire. He had a beautiful baritone voice and he played the French Harp very well. As the children matured their father would tell them the tragic circumstances of the story behind each of the songs he sang.

Gradually the Stroud’s acquired a guitar, banjo, and tamborine to add to the father’s French Harp. After a little practice the children were able to coax tunes from these instruments. By 1915 an organ had been acquired – and formal piano lessons were started for the older children.

Mr. Stroud, possessor of a brilliant mind and very talented musically, studied the scales and notes in the children’s music books, after he finished his daily ash hauling chores and soon acquired sufficient knowledge of notes, time, keys, scales, and chord structure, to become an amateur composer.

Father Stroud had acquired a local reputation as an interpreter of dreams and visions. He really believed in his interpretations, and analyzed his own dreams too. He also believed in visions and thought God revealed future events to certain special persons (some born with veils over their faces) while they were in a semi-sleep state.

One early winter morning he awoke, singing a new religious song – “There’s no neutral Ground to Heaven.” As quickly as he could get paper and pencil he wrote down all the verses of the song, without the slightest hesitation or effort to compose. Dolphus and the entire family witnessed this phenomenon. He sangt he song in a beautifully and inspiring spiritual rhythm and laboriously recorded the melody with single notes in the key of Eb.

Many years after their Father’s death, Nina and Bobbie Stroud cut a record of their Father’s first song, and another he dreamed later to fill the flip-side.

“There’s no neutral ground to Heaven
It’s a struggle of the Soul from day to day
Keep your lamps all trimmed and burning
Keep trusting and praying on the way
Look to Jesus Every Day
He'll be with you on the way
There’s no neutral Ground on the Way."

“I am on my way to Heaven
There’s no sickness, pain, nor sorrow over there
It’s a City eternal in the kingdom
Where my blessed Saviour's gone to prepare
Look to Jesus every day
He'll be with you on the way
There is no neutral ground on the way.”

[handwritten: Last verse omitted.”]

Neither Lulu nor Kimbal D. Stroud had special inclinations to draw or paint. But the Stroud children seemed to alternate in this talent. The oldest, Kimbal, lacked it. Albert had it, Dolphus lacked it, Effie had it, Tandy lacked it, Jack had it, James lacked it. There the trend was broken. The four youngest Strouds, all girls, Lulu, Nina, Rosa Mae, and Bobbie all had exceptional talents in all artistic fields, including art, in all its forms.

At Bristol School in 1911 and 1912 the most boring daily experience was listening to the records of Emilio Caruso. Dolphus often thought how much better it would be to hear his father singing, “Bury Me Not on the Lone Prairie.”

John McCormick and Harry Lauder were making recordings in those days too. And their records were especially appealing to Dolphus. McCormickls “My Wild Irish Rose,” was his favorite.

Aunt Jennie Mitcheltree provided the Strouds with one of the early Edison Phonographs when the family arrived in Colorado Springs. But the only records they had were so called comical ones that ridiculed the Blacks. One such was,

“Down on the sandhills of New Mexico
There lived an Indian maid
She’s of the Tribe they call the Navajo
She’s of the Copper shade
And every evening there was a coon
Who came his love to plead
There by the silvery light of the moon
He'd help her string her beads
And when they were all alone
He'd sing her a plaintive tune.
My Nava! Nava! My Navajo
I have a love for you that will grow
If you’ll have a coon for a beau,
I’ll have a Navajo.”

Other popular recordings of the day that did little to bolster the image of the Blacks were,

“Some folks say that a nigger won’t steal but
I found three in my cornfield
One had a bushel, One had a peck, and the
other had a roasting ear by the neck.”

and the half talking, half singing recording entitled, “The Nigger and the Rooster'’ in which the unfortunate Black explains an incriminating situation as follows.

“I’m just a big Kikkapoo Indian Chief
My Indian name is, “Rain in the Face”
When I found that bird why he was surely dead
And I just picked the feathers for to wear them
in my head
I’m a great big Kikkapoo Chief.
Listen to my war cry
Hip Hip – ya hoo--ooo-ooo.”

(Then the Sheriff replies)
“Your way cry is excellent
But I'm completely disallusionized
By the kinks in your hair.”

Records featuring Black blues singers, especially Mamie Smith and Bessie Smith, began to appear; but Lulu Stroud did not allow blues songs in her home. Such songs, along with clog and tap dancing, she described as “Acting a nigger.” The idea of a Black culture did not exist for her. She did try to preserve much of the Creek Indian Culture, though. She spoke to her siblings in the Creek tongue quite frequently and she taught them Indian dances. Stringing beads and weaving rugs was a common Stroud activity. And she told us about the long winter march of the Creeks into the Oklahoma Territory. She was a small child at the time. (Her mother died of pneumonia on the way.) Lulu, her sister, and Jennie, her Grandmother, were allowed to ride in one of the covered wagons on the long cold journey; but the younger squaws, the braves and the young boys had to walk. From Lulu Stroud’s account the trip must have covered more than a thousand miles and required at least three months. The soldiers, guarding the Indian marchers, were inconsiderate and brutal. Many Indians died and some were killed en route - and for some reason or reasons her brother, Erastus, acquired a profound life long hatred of all whites on the trip that culminated in his becoming leader of a gang of Indian and Black desperados that roamed the Oklahoma Territory for some years. Erastus was shot and captured by a U.S. Marshal’s posse near the small settlement of Guthrie. He survived and served ten years in prison. Complications from the shooting claimed Erastus’ life in 1914, sister Jennie had him shipped to Colorado Springs prior to his death. And he met Dolphus and the other Stroud’s at that time. He died a few days later. Erastus was a handsome man, more than six feet tall, with long coarse straight black hair. Even in his emaciated state it was apparent he had been strong and agile and the fires burned deep in his eyes.

RELIGION
photocopy, typed, 1916

Dolphus’ father and mother addressed each other by pet names, “Katy Did” and “Sweet”. Kay Did was, probably, a take off from the initials, “K. D.”, that stood for Kimbal Dolphus. Katy Did was an emotionally religious man, believing in his interpretation of Baptist Church doctrine. Religion and religious activities played a great part in the lives of the Strouds. Grace was said before every meal and each child learned the bed time prayer, “Now I lay me down to sleep…”, as soon as he learned to talk. Neighborhood prayer meetings attended by Blacks and a few Whites, were held on Wednesday nights. On the occasions when the prayer meeting would comme to the Stroud home, Albert and Dolphus made advance preparations to restore the chimney in the front room heating stove, since Sister Burton, a black lady of some fifty or sixty years and 185 pounds, inevitably would be overcome by religious fervor and shout and jump until she jarred the stove pipes down.

There were three Black churches in Colorado Springs in the years 1909 through 1914, St. Johns Baptist, Payne Chapel AME. And the Peoples M.E. Except for the Strouds and two or three other families, the Blacks were concentrated on the East side of town. Since the Strouds were destitute and ragged, and the walking distance was too far for children of kindergarten to fourth grade age, the Stroud children did not attend any formal Sunday church service until one Sunday when Rev. Monfort, Pastor of Emanuel Presbyterian Church, and his wife stopped at the Stroud residence and asked that the family attend services at their church. “Sweet” explained that we lacked decent clothing for church attendance and money for the collection plate. The Monforts brushed these excuses aside and Sweet finally agreed that her siblings could enroll in the Emanuel Presbyterian Sunday School on the following Sunday. During the week Mrs. Monfort, who was an excellent seamstress, made shirts for Albert and Dolphus and dresses for Kimbal and Effie – and the little Strouds began a two year attendance at Rev. Manforts church – which was never marred by a single racial insult or incident – and Dolphus and Albert received brand new bibles at the end of the year, 1914, for the perfect attendance records (52 consecutive Sundays in Sunday School during the year). Participation in children’s chair activities, and memorizing a bible verse each day along with reading a chapter of the bible each night, were habits acquired by the Stroud children as a result of their contacts with Rev. Manfort and Emanuel Presbyterian Church. The God who was preached and worshipped at Emanuel Presbyterian was a God of love and this was expressed in the song that started Sunday school services each week,

“Jesus loves me! This I know
For the Bible tells me so
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak, but He is strong.
chorus
Yes, Jesus love me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me!
The Bible tells me so.”

A camp meeting, sponsored by most of the churches of Colorado Springs, was conducted during the month of August each summer in a huge tent, with sawdust floor erected at the west terminus of Dale Street on vacant land at the base of the foot-hills. Some prominent Evangelist from a distant place was usually secured to conduct these sercices. Emotions ran high during the services and the mourner’s benches were filled nightly by the sinners wishing to be saved. On frequent occasions there were healing sessions when the saved prayed and shouted over the afflicted, trying to make the lame walk, and the blind see. Sometimes an afflicted person would be carried in on a stretcher and, after a period of being prayed for, he would leap from the stretcher, singing and shouting, and carry the stretcher away with him. The God preached at these meetings, was a fearful Being, venting his wratch on all who failed to repent, believe, and be baptized. He was a God of judgement day, a God of retribution, a God of fire and brimstone. This God contrasted violently with the God of love the Stroud siblings had come to believe in at Emanuel Presbyterian Church.

In the fall of 1916, the Strouds were old enough and affluent enough to go across town on Sundays to the all Black St. John’s Baptist Church. In the Sunday school and BYPU services the teachers were usually those of minimal education but maximum motivation. These teachers would stumble through the reading of Biblical passages; but would be very fluent in elaborating on the scriptures. They had faced oppression and harships in many ways and in many places and had no difficulty relating Biblical stories to real life experiences of their own. Such a capability on the teacher’s part plus a natural veneration for age on the part of the Stroud children made real valuable learning and growing experiences of their attendance at Sunday School and BYPU services.

At the tender age of 10 years Dolphus’ younger sister, Effie, repented of her “manifold” sins, made her confession of faith, and her application for membership in the St. Johns Baptist Church was accepted pending the extension of the “Right Hand of Fellowship” at the conclusion of the fall revival. One year later, Albert and Dolphus were kneeling at the mourner’s bench with prayers, shouts and hypnotic chants being proffered in their behalf by the emotionally charged congregation. Rev. Pinckney had made,

“There is a Fountain filled with Blood
Drawn from Emanuel’s Veins
And Sinners plunged beneath its flood
Lose all their guilty stains”

The theme song of the revival. After two nights of struggling with Satan, Albert surrendered his soul to God. Dolphus succumbed two nights later although he knew he did not feel any of the rushing winds nor see any of the blinding lights that most members of the congregation claimed to have experienced at the time of their rebirths. Dolphus remained a member of and leader in the activities of the St. John’s Baptist Church as long as he resided in Colorado Springs – and the Fifth Chapter of St. Matthew, Christ’s Sermon on the Mount, became his guide for Christian living.

PUBLIC POOL / SWIMMING
two versions: handwritten draft titled “Public Pool” beginning at “Subsequent…” and typed, ca. 1917 if Dolphus is about age 10

Learning to swim was an exercise in frustration for Dolphus. From earliest childhood he desired to be an expert swimmer but Colorado Springs, despite having a number of public and private swimming facilities, including a gym and Y.W.C.A., did not allow Blacks to use any of its aquatic places. Accordingly, Dolphus and his brother, Albert, began their swimming attempts in dirt, shallow monument creek that wended its way through Monument Valley Park with a maximum depth of about two feet except at the falls beneath the Mesa Road Bridge. Here the depth reached three feet for a distance of four or five feet beyond the Falls. Needless to say, one could not become a swimmer in such shallow waters. As the Stroud boys grew older and began wandering miles from home, exploring the foothills at the base of the first range of the Rockies they discovered bodies of water of unknown depth. Johnson’s reservoir in Broadmoor, a millionaire resort at the base of Cheyenne Mountain, some five or six miles South and West of Colorado Springs, is where they finally became swimmers. Both boys were caddies at the Broadmoor Golf Club at the time. Daily, during the noon hour, twenty or more of the caddies would hike the short distance to Johnson’s Reservoir to cool off with a swim. Included would be five or six boys who were trying to learn. Dolphus was one of these.

After three or four visits to the reservoir Dolphus learned to dog paddle. Some fifteen or eighteen feet from the banks of the reservoir a measuring guage protruded from the surface of the water showing the depth to be 16 feet at that point. A new swimmer’s test was to swim out to this guage and return. On one memorable afternoon Dolphus concluded his expertise was adequate for the swim to the guage. He made it to the sixteen foot mark with no difficulty. But when he got ready to dog paddle back to shore, he discovered that the pole holding the guage was slick beneath the water level and he could not kick off from it. Seeing Dolphus’s distress, Frank Works, who was little more than a beginning swimmer himself, brought a small log to Dolphus for him to hold on to in returning to shallow waters. Dolphus attempted to get on top of the log, lost it, and began floundering around in the water. Frank Works went to the rescue and Dolphus clutched him in a death grasp taking them both to the sixteen foot bottom. After what seemed an eternity and with lungs bursting they rose to the surface. Frank struggled free from Dolphus’ frantic clutches muttering, “Drown! You Fool!,” and swam for shallow water. Dolphus went down again. With his last ounce of strength he struggled back to the surface too tired and with too much water in his lungs to fight any longer. As he surrendered, deciding that death had come, a strong pair of white hands grasped him under the chin, and, keeping his nose and mouth above water, brought the half drowned semi-conscious, Dolphus back to shore. Artificial resuscitation was applied and the little Black youngster was soon able to walk about, --- however, with an ache in the bottom of his lungs that lasted for some six months.

Frank Works, a Black, made the initial rescue attempt. McVey, a white caddy, made the rescue.

Subsequent to his near drowning in Johnson’s reservoir, Dolphus and the other Black boys of Colorado Springs developed a swimming phobia. Each felt he must become a strong proficient swimmer as quickly as possible. Moreover, several of them had united in Boy Scout Troop #12, Colorado Springs’ segregated Troop of Black Boy Scouts, and swimming was a required Merit Badge Test before one could gain Life Scout Ranking, with Life Saving being required as one of the 21-Merit Badges for the Eagle Scout rank. Even in the early 1900's these Black youngsters knew their rights were being violated when they were denied use of the municipal swimming pool in Monument Valley Park, which was built and maintained by public tax money. It took little rationalizing for them to conclude that they were justified in using this pool in pre-daylight morning hours.

The pool was protected by a six foot wire mesh fence and locked gate during the hours when it was closed. For nearly a month some twelve to fifteen Black youngsters climbed over this fence between 3:30 and 4:30 each morning and enjoyed swimming or learning to swim in a comparatively safe place for an hour and a half or so.

Then, one morning, while the youngsters were in the midst of their fun, a group of uniformed police officers swooped down on them, with drawn guns. The boys were ordered to dress and get in the paddy wagon. They were taken to City Hall and held for several hours awaiting the arrival of Police Chief Hugh D. Harper.

Most of the youngsters, ranging in age from 7 to 14, were terrified. Tears were in the eyes of the youngest as they were ushered into the Chief’s presence. He, along with some of the other officers present, cursed and be-rated the little Blacks, telling them they had been extended a wonderful opportunity by the white citizenry of Colorado Springs in being allowed to use Monument Valley Park in any way. The boys were accused of being unappreciative of the opportunities they enjoyed in a liberal city like Colorado Springs, and were advised that they were members of an inferior race of humans who would sometime in the distant future attain a position of equality with the Whites; but in the foreseeable future Black generations would have to realize they were socially and mentally inferior to Whites. He emphasized the expense the Black youngsters had caused the city since the pool would have to be drained, thoroughly scrubbed, and fumigated before it would be ready for use again by Whites. Concluding, he ordered the small group of boys in general and all the Blacks of Colorado Springs, in particular, to stay out of Monument Valley Park from 9 p.m. until 7 a.m. daily unless they had a legitimate reason for passing through the area.

The swimming pool in Monument Valley Park was closed for a week as workmen made sure that any contamination resulting from its use by Blacks was removed—and the six foot fence, protecting the pool was elevated to 15 feet. The Black boys of Colorado Springs, still determined to be good swimmmers now had to gain their experience in whatever out-of-the-way pools of water they could find. One such pool was located in an abandoned brick yard in the west foothills. The group made several excursions to this place and constructed a rough platform board there some five or six feet above the surface of the water.

One day a contest was arranged to see who would be the first to bring a rock or something up from the bottom of this pool. None of them had ever reached bottom despite their deepest dives. J. C. Piper, a 14 year old, and one of the best swimmers in the group, made the first dive. A minute passed and there were no ripples. Then ripples appeared on the surface -- not J. C. The boys recognized this as a sign of distress -- that the air was being expelled from his lungs. They began diving in, trying to find J. C.

The abandoned brick yard was two or three miles from help of any sort. After perhaps ten minutes of diving Tandy Stroud, Dolphus’ younger brother, located J. C., tangled in barbed wire. Since Tandy was the only one capable of holding his breath long enough to dive to the 18 or 20 foot depth where J. C. was located, and since he had some knowledge of the position of the body and the location of the dangerous barbed wire, he volunteered for two more dives to attach ropes to J. C. so that his body could be pulled to the surface. The youngsters got their companions’ body to the surface as quickly as possible, laid him on his stomach with head to the side and tongue pulled out, and tried desperately to revive him with artificial rescusitation. The efforts were futile.

A makeshift stretcher was constructed from two lengths of 2x4 found on the brick yard premises, and two coats belonging to the boys. A sorrowing cortege carried J. C. back to town and to his grandmother’s home where he lived.

The Ruxton Café, Manitou
handwritten on lined paper, summer 1919? Dolphus is age 12

At the beginning of summer vacation in his 12th year Dolphus secured employment as dish-washer at the Ruxton Cafe in Manitou, a suburb of Colorado Springs some seven miles to the West at the foot of Pikes Peak, Manitou was one of Colorado’s chief tourist attractions, embracing such wonders as: The Cave of the Winds, The Mt. Manitou and Red Peak Incline Railroads, The Cliff Dwelling of the Ute Indians, a variety of iron and mineral springs, a miniature old Faithful Geyser that erupted in a soda water spray at exact intervals. Tourists and workers came from all over America to enjoy or work in Manitou during the beautiful summer months

Bill was the chef and half owner of the Ruxton. Hal was first cook, Abie (a 14 year old Jewish lad) and Dolphus were the dishwashers and general kitchen helpers. Work hours for Dolphus were 10-a.m. to 8-p.m. with an hour off from 2-p.m. to 3-p.m. The pay was $12.00 weekly. Abie worked from 7-a.m. to 5-p.m. with an hour off from 10 a.m. to 11 a.m.

Bill was a hard taskmaster. The Ruxton had good business and it was next to impossible to keep up with the washing of the dishes and the pots and pans. All butter returning on the dirty dishes had to be saved in the butter-can for buttering toast and cooking purposes. Bones and returned meat were placed in a five gallon can used for soup stocks. Egg shells were used to clear the soup and other boiled foods. Returned bread and stale bread were used for preparing bread puddings. An awful lot of food was re-cycled. Dolphus’ summer at the Ruxton destroyed much of the halo he had built around restaurants and restaurant eating. Blacks could not eat in a restaurant anywhere in the Pikes Peak region in these days

One morning when Dolphus arrived for work Bill was storming about the kitchen with pistol in hand, swearing about niggers in general and one in particular who had seated himself at the counter in the dining room. From the talk and threats he was making, Dolphus expected him to enter the Dining Room and shoot the unsuspecting Black man. However, when one of the waitresses asked him how to handle the situation he suggested she ignore the man and he would leave. After ten minutes of the cold shoulder treatment the Black man did leave. Next day a sign was prominently displayed in the Ruxton’s windows stating that “no niggers” were served inside.

Dolphus spent his free hour daily either visiting Manitou’s scenic attractions or reading in the Manitou Public Library.

Bill liked to have fun at the expense of his Black and Jewish kitchen helpers. One day he asked them if they knew the order of the races. Receiving negative replies, Bill explained that it was, “white man, dog, Nigger, and Jew.”

That summer’s experience as a dishwasher gave Dolphus an additional field of employment potential. Two summers later he was working in Manitou as a bus boy – but this time at the Grand View Hotel, second only to the Cliff House among Manitou’s finest hostelries of that day. All the other sub-administrative employees of the Grand View were professional hotel workers from the Southern States who followed the tourist seasons from South to North. They were highly intelligent and knew the hotel business and the degree of color-mania affecting the Whites in every section of America, moreover, they were able to rationalize the acceptance of racial insults, which all Black service employees were subjected to from time to time by repeating some version of the story of the passenger in the dining car of a railroad train who, after completing his meal, approached the waiters assembled at the back of the car and asked, “Which one of you niggers waited on me today?” He received no response until he added, “That was the best meal I ever ate in my life and I wanted to give that nigger a $50.00 bill.” All six of the waiters immediately became “That nigger” and it took the intervention of the dining car steward to determine the right one. Pride and principle always carry a price tag.

MARCUS GARVEY
typed, 1922? Garvey spoke at Colorado College in spring 1922

Marcus Garvey was a large, somewhat stout Black man, with booming voice and emotional style that mesmerized his audiences. He was speaking in the St. John’s Baptist Church to the largest gathering of Blacks ever assembled in one building during the entire history of Colorado Springs. There was a sprinkling of white newsmen, intellectuals, and several uniformed White policemen on hand too. The internationally famous Marcus Garvey was declaiming in behalf of his “back to Africa” movement.

The crowd grew so emotional, clapping and “amening” with his every word, that one could seldom follow his logic -- or lack thereof. He spoke extemporaneously, never referring to any documents, before quoting a host of statistics and calculations running into the millions of dollars about the expense of a wholesale return of the Black Americans to the “Mother Country, The Fatherland, The Promised Land” as he characterized the Black Continent during his speech.

His plan called for all the American Blacks to deed their property and any other salable possessions to “The Back to Africa Black Star Movement.” The donors would be issued shares of stock equal to the value of their donations. He claimed to have an iron clad commitment from White men of wealth to match the amount raised from Black sources, dollar for dollar.

The white money would be pure donation carrying no right to shares in the Black Star Movement, thereby doubling the worth of each Black donor’s shares. Three African nations with boundless undeveloped lands, rich in all natural resources, including diamonds, gold, and oil and more fertile than America’s Mississippi Valley were prepared to sell whatever acreage the Black Star Movement might wish at one dollar per acre. It was a glowing economic picture.

The collection following the speech garnered more than five hundred dollars; and in the emotional climate of the evening most of the Colorado Springs Blacks signed to return to Africa and paid the five dollar “Good Faith” deposit.

When the Strouds returned home from the meeting Kimbal and Albert asked their parents why they had failed to contribute to the movement or sign to go back to Africa.

Mrs. Stroud’s reply was brief, “I didn’t come from Africa. I haven’t lost anything there; and I do not expect to find anything there.

The father entered into an exposition of some length, stating that the Blacks were being “Taken In” by Garvey. He explained that there were no nations in Africa free of White domination. He pointed out that the Peace Treaty that terminated the World War had divided the Dark Continent into spheres of influence or mandates under various European governments and the U.S. For all practical purposes these mandates were simply African areas to be exploited by the Whites for the benefit of Whites. No Black group from anywhere would be allowed to interfere with the vast profits of the mandate system. He further explained that any private concern doing large scale business with a foreign government must do so under Letters of Credit issued by the State Department. And he guaranteed that Garvey had no such authorization.

Several months later Garvey was arrested and convicted on conspiracy to use the mails to defraud. Seems his only investment had been a small down-payment on a decommissioned trading vessel of small tonnage which had been painted with a black star and heralded as the flag ship of the mighty Black Star Line. Most of the funds raised had been deposited in foreign banks to the account of Marcus Garvey.

His affect on Colorado Springs was salutary. A Black man had been domiciled in a White Hotel for the first time in the town’s history -- and the hotel was the town’s finest -- The Antlers. Theaters began opening their balconies to the Blacks. The Wood Drug Company on Tejon Street between Kiowa and Pikes Peak Avenue, began serving Blacks at its counter and pressure was directed on Barthel’s. The ice cream and candy parlor on the corner of N. Tejon and Bijou Streets whose business was largely with high school students to remove the “We do not cater to Colored Trade” sign from its window.

Dolphus was deeply affected by the Garvey plan. He, Kimball and Albert discussed it frequently. Their conclusion was that it required too many dedicated martyrs to succeed even if the financing outlined by Garvey were available. It would require people who were trying to catch up with the 20th Century to regress to the living conditions of the 15th or 16th Century and to be satisfied to live under the most primitive conditions for possibly ten generations. Those making the trip would never see “The Promised Land” that would be enjoyed by their Great Great Great Great Great----? grandchildren provided the colony could survive the hardships and hostilities they would have to overcome. It had taken 500 years to bring the American west to an average civilized standard of living. Africa would require at least an equal amount of time.

Some years later another great Black speaker came to St. John’s Baptist Church. Like Garvey he was big, quite black and possessor of a deep booming voice. Unlike Garvey he followed the College Lecture Circuit and was not representing any particular Black group or movement. His name was “Prince Kolloliciez, the son of the now reigning king of Ethiopia.” His subject “Africa, Its Lands and People.”

A mild gasp of awe escaped the audience as this huge Black man covered by a rich ermine robe, mounted the podium. In resonant base tones he told of his up-bringing, dwelling briefly on the beauty and untapped wealth of his homeland. He carried the audience along on trips to Kilimanjaro and Lake Louise and then he took them to many exotic places outside Africa, to Indias Taj Mahal, to Bombay, Zanzibar and Port Said. St. Petersburg, Odessa, Athens and Rome were touched on. And he brought out intimate details of each locale, leaving no doubt of his actual knowledge of the country.

His eloquence was unmatched by that of any speaker in the history of Colorado Springs.

The concluding half hour was spent in answering questions from the audience on any subject what-so-ever and in any language used in the world. He answered all queries to the satisfaction of the questioner and in whatever language he used. A truly remarkable feat.

Prince Kolloliciez was accorded royal treatment in Colorado Springs. He was housed at the multi-million dollar Broadmoor Hotel. He was wined and dined by the dignitaries of the Pikes Peak Region, including Governor Shoup, Dr. C.C. Mierow, President of Colorado College, and Spencer Penrose, Colorado’s wealthiest citizen. Before leaving the state the Prince had spoken at all the major institutions of learning, including Colorado College, The University of Colorado, the State Teachers’ College, and the University of Denver. His speeches were reported verbatim by the state’s leading newspapers. And and his leave taking was described as “the departure of the most eminent and learned scholar ever to visit the state of Colorado.”

Some six months later Prince Kolloliciez was arrested in one of the western states (probably Wyoming) and charged with fraud and impersonating a prince. Fingerprints determined that he was an ex-convict, born in Kansas City, Missouri and had never journeyed outside the U.S.A.

To Dolphus these disclosures further enhanced the Prince’s “claim to glory,” but the chagrin of the prominent Whites who had worshiped at his feet was expressed in the stiff twenty year prison sentence he received after conviction on all counts.

The Last Fight
handwritten on Jefferson National Life Insurance Company letterhead, 1925, Dolphus is a high school senior

Young, 115- lb. Tandy Stroud was quarterbacking the Freshman Terror team. Dolphus was in the Fall of his final association with the High School and was a top runner on the cross-country team. Tandy came home one evening badly swollen and bruised around the eyes and nose. At first the family assumed a football practice injury had caused his disfigurement. Through swollen lips he recounted these facts:

There were insufficient showers in the boys dressing room to accommodate all the football players at one time. Consequently, there was a race for the stalls after practice sessions. He was one of the first to reach the showers that evening and appropriated a good one. After Tandy had soaped himself and turned on the water, Harold Rahm, the 190- lb. first team full back approached and said to young Stroud, “nigger, that’s my shower you’re in: Get out!” Tandy ignored the order and was punched several times about the face and head before he could make any effort at self-defense”

At school the following day, 125- lb. Dolphus challenged Rahm and the meeting was arranged for the alley between Nevada and Weber Sts. just South of the High School grounds, at 3:45 p.m. Dolphus came alone. Rahm was escorted by thirty or forty supporters, including virtually all the members of the football squad.

The fight began quickly with the surrounding spectators pressing in so tight that only three or four feet was left for the combatants to maneuver in. They exchanged solid blows to the face and then a voice, Dolphus recognized as Dick Murray’s yelled, “Get him! He’s black!”

The spectators grabbed Dolphus, pinning his arms and, raining blows and kicks to his face and body, beat him to the ground. The over matched Black youth managed by some super determination to extricate himself from beneath the mob and began running for the school grounds. Cleophilus Brewster, a Black High School student who had viewed the malling from a safe distance, tossed a spring bladed knife to Dolphus. With this weapon open and poised he turned to face his pursuers, who, terrified by the long bladed knife turned and raced for safety.

With clothing torn completely from his body, ribs aching and likely broken, face battered to a pulp, and eyes swelling shut so fast he had to be escorted home by Black friends who appeared from nowhere after the confrontation ended, Dolphus made his way home – and he did not feel defeated.

The Call of the Wild
handwritten on letterhead, summer 1925

In his final high school year Dolphus, like so many Black youngsters of his generation, shouldered the burdens of the Black Race. His major concern was that his life and actions should lead to improvement of conditions for the Blacks. He felt that education was an indispensable tool for accomplishing that goal. And he resolved to make whatever sacrifices might be required to secure the best learning possible in the finest college that he could afford. He set daily, weekly, and yearly goals of accomplishment for himself. The yearly goals were set during the course of an aimless, carefree week long solo trek he took through the mountains during the summer vacation, days on these trips he started with about fifty pounds of essentials in his knapsack. Included in his supplies were a compass, matches, a hand ax and hunting knife, a blanket roll (sleeping bags were not on the market yet) fork and spoon, frying pan, tin plate and cup, coffee pot, cup, First Aid Kit, sewing kit, writing paper, flash light, Bible, referee’s whistle, 30 ft. length of rope, small ball of cord, five pairs of sox, extra pair of shoes and shorts, old tennis racket, soap, hair brush and comb, two towels, golf club for use as walking stick, an extra jockey strap, and 2 small empty jars with lids. Food supplies were: salt, sugar, pepper, coffee, flour, baking powder, 3-cans pork & beans, can opener, 3 cans sardines, few potatoes, 2-cans evaporated milk, small bottle cooking oil

Dolphus’ wanderings carried him to many little known or forgotten places in the mountains. Infrequently he came upon ghost towns. Each had its saloon and some had a church as well. Valuable artifacts and collectibles abounded but the Black Lad was complete ignorant of their worth and left them to their lonely destiny. An all pervading gloom existed in every ghost town and Dolphus never tarried long in one for fear of being infected with that gloom. During the rambling week in the Summer of 1925, Dolphus decided to:
1. Enroll in Colorado College for the Fall semester
2. Tryout for the football team despite his 185- lb weight. (This for the purpose of staying in condition for the Cross-Country runs and the Track Season.
3. Continue struggling to save enough money to enter Harvard University. (He had been admitted to the Freshman Class there without examination on the strength of his high school record)
4. To add household moving and baggage hauling to the ashpit cleaning business. Wandell & Lowe had a virtual monopoly of the major Transfer business in the City while Depot Transfer Co. took care of the light baggage such as trunks and suitcases to and from the D&R.G. and Santa Fe Stations.
5. To organize an amateur Black Baseball team for Colorado Springs the next spring and summer to showcase the skills of the local and summer tourist Blacks

The annual solo hikes made a “mountain man” of Dolphus. The ball of cord was used to explore several caves he discovered on Cheyenne Mountain and on the west slopes of the continental divide near Cripple Creek and Victor. The cord would be tied at a point near the caves’ entrance and unrolled as Dolphus penetrated deeper into the labyrinth of intersecting and confusing passages. In some instances underground streams and “bottomless” small lakes were discovered. Though used sparingly to conserve the energy of its batteries the flash light proved an extremely valuable tool in the caves.

Sometimes old cabins abandoned by prospectors were examined, and once a small leather pouch containing a few gold coins was found.

The nightly campsite was chosen about two hours before darkness. The fire area was cleared and a supply of round and flat rocks was gathered. Fir, cedar, or pine branches were assembled and spread for a bed on the more sheltered neutral side of the fire site. An adequate supply of fuel was cut with ten or twelve pieces of sizeable diameter included. These would be used to bank the fire for the night. Usually the camp site was near running water. When available, a few large leaves from a non-conifer tree were gathered. When near a swift flowing mountain stream the old tennis racket was utilized to hurl, trout, bass, or perch from the crystal clear icy cold water on to the bank to carry out their final function in nature’s food chain. These fish, after cooking, were near the top in Dolphus’ list of best remembered food tastes

Bread dough was prepared twice during the course of the trip. The surplus from each preparing was carried in one of the empty jars. To get varied flavors the dough was spooned from the jar and baked in one of the following ways:-
1. Buttered and Rolled in maple leaves and baked in the ashes.
2. Rolled in brown paper from empty brown sacks rolled again in big green leaf, placed in empty pork’n beans can and baked in ashes
3. Speared by stick and turned slowly in barbecue style until thoroughly done and browned.
After eating, dumping the leavings into the stream for the fish, and washing and stowing away the dishes. Dolphus would perk up the fire and read and dip coffee for an hour or two before putting on the big loss to bank the fire for the night. The wilderness week was the greatest week of the year.

The weekly ten mile runs to the Garden of the Gods and back or the climb to the Top of Pikes Peak was dedicated to reaffirming and reenforcing his efforts to accomplish the Annual Goals set during the week long hike. The daily early morning three mile run was for physical conditioning and mental stimulation to accomplish that day’s tasks in the most expeditious and efficient manner. With the approach of winter and its cold inclement weather the early morning grew increasingly challenging. Often times in the afternoon when the wind was howling cold and hurling snow and stinging icy particles about the challenge became so great that Dolphus would have to don a track suit and take aa second three mile run out on the lonely mesa for the sheer exhilaration of the conquest his response too “The Call of the Wild”

Graduation
handwritten on letterhead, spring 1925, high school graduation

Leaving high school did not evoke a great degree of nostalgia. Dolphus had come to realize that instead of being an American Black man he was a Black American whose first loyalty must ever be to the Blacks. He knew that a subtle but grim war was being waged between the Whites and Blacks in America. The White objective in this struggle was continued domination and repression, the Black objective progression and equality. All the economic power and physical strength (weapons) were held by the Whites. The Blacks had the cunning and the psychological advantage of understanding the White man, of knowing “what made him tick” This capacity made it possible for Blacks to play a dual role with ease. He was a docile Uncle Tom to Whites while being a militant fire brand among Blacks.

Dolphus had felt some pride as he crossed the city Auditorium during Commencement proceedings to accept certain scholarship awards and a scholarship to Colorado College. And he was surprised and considerably shaken by the deafening applause he received from the audience. But he did not misinterpret these honors to mean that Blacks had made a significant break through to acceptance as equals by the Whites.

Horace Greeley had said, “Go West! Young Man.” Booker T. Washington had said “Let down your bucket where you are.” Alain Locke had said.

“No prejudice is more fraught with danger than that which, outlasting its cause, adds social insult to social injury.” W.E.B. DuBois had promoted the doctrine of the “Talented Tenth.” a position that maintained that one tenth of the negro masses were sufficiently talented and refined to enter the main stream of White society on an equality basis – a position which in Dolphus’ mind either condemned nine tenths of the Blacks or placed the acquisition of power and wealth and the ability to speak “correctly”, use the right fork and adhere to a double and often contradictory set of morals, one for intra-race relations and another for inter-race relations, on a moral or cultural value level far beyond the worth Dolphus had given them.

Soon it was all over and Dolphus applied himself to the urgent need of banking sufficient funds to be able to start college in the Fall. Albert and Jesse, Dolphus’ older brother and best friend, left for Chicago in Albert’s model T Ford Truck shortly after high school graduation. It took them eight days to complete the journey over the narrow, winding, dusty, muddy trail called, “The Pikes Peak Ocean To Ocean Highway. The thirteen member stroud family had dined together for the last time. Kimbal was married to Paul Goffman and lived with her husband at the Doctor’s residence where they were employed – he as chauffer and general handy man and she as cook and maid. That left Dolphus as the oldest child at home.

A loose baseball league, including the White Elephants of Denver, the Royal Giants of Pueblo, The Colored Boy’s Industrial Club’s Panthers of Colorado Springs, and the Trinidad Miners was formed and added a great deal to the summer pleasure of both Blacks and Whites in those cities. Dolphus was a starting pitcher for the Panthers.

Although caddying remained the major source of income for Dolphus during the Summer, some household moving jobs were done and the daily trash and ashes customers in the business district were served between four and eight o’clock each morning. The name of the business had been changed to Stroud Bros., Trucking. The Father’s duties were, primarily, seeking out new customers, while Dolphus and Tandy did the manual labor. The boy’s received one fourth of each day’s earnings and the parents got the remaining half.

A sizeable fence painting job in Ivywild, some concrete work, including the laying of a concrete basement floor, and several jobs acting as guide for tourist parties wanting to explore the mountains of the pikes Peak Region made the Summer busy and eventful for Dolphus. He especially enjoyed guiding the over night hiking parties. After supper when everything had been cleaned up and put away except for the Coffee pot and perhaps some marshmallows to roast, there would be a round the fire sessions where interesting events in the lives of the individuals would be recounted first hand. Since the tourists were, for the most part, sophisticated persons who were familiar with many parts of the World, their discussions and experiences were quite informative. And the pay was quite adequate. Some questioned Dolphus instructions to dispose of surplus food and paper in the streams rather than burning or burying it. The guide defended his position on the grounds that what was being disposed of was insufficient to pollute the fast running mountain streams and served as delightful morsels of desserts for the waterlife. He also advised washing out metal containers and leaving them at the camp site, explaining that the finding of such cans could be of life-saving value to some future hiker

One day hiking groups were mostly novices. They had to be closely supervised to prevent individuals or small groups from becoming separated from the main body of hikers and lost. Some were physically weak and required assistance. Some had psychological fears of heights or of mountain wild life. One little fat man became alarmed at the sight of an eagle, expressing a belief that the bird would swoop down and carry a member of the hiking party away. Numerous questioned were asked:

How does one know which direction is north if he lacks a compass?
How does one recognize poison oak and poison ivy?
Demonstrate making fire without matches?
Why won’t an egg get hard when boiled at high altitudes.
Why is Pikes Peak more famous than Mt Harvard and the other taller Colorado peaks
Demonstrate panning for gold
Is it safe to drink water from the mountain streams
Are there rattle snakes in the mountains
Why can’t horses climb Pikes Peak

Not a single accident marred the guide trips. Two hikers with weak hearts had to be carried to lower elevations on improvised stretchers and one became separated from the group for a short time, but was reunited with them as a result of blasts from the basketball whistle Dolphus always carried. Fall had come and registration as a Freshman at Colorado College was in order.

Crucible #2
handwritten on letterhead, autumn 1925, Dolphus starts at Colorado College

Dolphus was the lone Black student in the Colorado College enrollment of some eight or nine hundred. In those days the number of negroes in penal institutions, chain gangs, and on prison farms was roughly thirty times the number in colleges. Like most Freshman, he chose orientation courses that would acquaint him with the potentials of the college and enable him to select a major with some discretion during his sophomore year. Spanish, Greek, Religion, College Algebra, and Physics were chosen. Spanish and Greek afforded intimate relationships between instructor and student and between the students themselves since the classes were small. Dr. Herbert Mierow, brother of Dr. C.C. Mierow, the College President, taught Greek, while Miss Graves handled Spanish. College Algebra, with a class of about twenty-five, was conducted on a semi intimate basis by Dr. Sisam, president of the American Association of mathematicians, and author of textbooks in various fields of advanced mathematics. Religion was a lecture course while physics was on the intimate level on Laboratory days and lecture level on other days.

The coach was present in the supply room when Dolphus asked the trainer for football equipment. Instead of being routinely issued his equipment the Black lad was asked to report to Van de Graaf’s office upstairs in Cutler Hall. Once there the coach went right to the point. “Stroud, I’m from Alabama. Blacks and Whites don’t attend the same schools there. It would be mighty embarrassing for me to send home a picture of my squad with you in it. I can’t tell you not to come out for football. In fact, if anyone ever asks about this conversation, I’ll swear it never took place. But if you insist on coming out for the team, I’ll do my best to get you out of there as quickly as possible. And I’d advise you not to come out. That’s all!”

Stroud left the office in disbelief, puzzled and amazed. Dolphus had experienced kindness, a desire to help, and even gestures of friendship in all his previous relations with officials, teachers and students at the college and had relaxed his psychological guards while on campus. Now with his guard down he had received a solid blow to the jaw. Now he was too stunned to deliver a meaningful counter-punch. To report the coach’s actions to Dr. Mierow would be ineffective since Van de Graaf would deny everything and issue the equipment. As a marked man Dolphus would soon suffer a debilitating injury that would remove him from the squad. Dolphus reported the circumstances to his family but decided to postpone any further action until he could think out the matter on a climb to the summit of Pikes Peak the following Sunday.

It was a mechanical climb. For the hundredth time Dolphus turned the situation over in his mind. To be true to his conviction and retain pride and self-respect it seemed that he must confront Van de Graaf without further delay and reveal him to the people of Colorado Springs as a bigot. On the other hand he admired the lack of duplicity in the coach’s words. He had expressed himself clearly and concisely so that no one need misunderstand.

Leaving the Halfway House after a short stop and refreshing drink from the waters of Ruxton Creek the solution seemed as far off as ever. Fees for the semester and the tuition balance not covered by his scholarship had been paid in full. It was only sensible to complete the semester. Track, not football, was his main interest. The New Testament taught forgiveness. The Fifth Chapter of Matthew, Jesus’ Sermon on the mount, ought to guide a Christian in difficult decisions.

As he neared Timber Line and topped the arduous forty per cent grade Dolphus began to reach conclusions. He would say no more about the Van de Graaf matter. His college aims would be to learn all he could just as thoroughly as he could. And he would strive to excel in the longer races in track and become a competitor in the 1928 Olympic Games to be held at the Hague in Holland. Charlie Paddock, De Hart Hubbard, Phil Edwards, Joie Ray had all built their international reputations through the Intercollegiate Athletic Assn. track program.

With the Van de Graaf matter settled Dolphus spent little time atop the mountain. Glancing briefly into New Mexico, Kansas, Nebraska, and Wyoming, he began the downward jog. The braking muscles come into play for the entire downward trek. The uninitiated find these muscles severely strained after three or four miles and the last half of the down-track is pure pain.

About a mile from the bottom while Dolphus was considering the idea of trying to enroll at Stanford university for his sophomore year (Dorothy Wineberg was a student there) he carelessly caught the spikes of his left track shoe in a protruding tie and fell, twisting his ankle and skinning his arms. Pain wasn’t too great at first, but it increased in the ankle until he could hardly stand any weight on his left foot when he reached bottom and his parked truck.

The football crisis had solved itself. It was more than a month before Dolphus regained normal use of his left leg.

Hopis & Zunis
handwritten on letterhead, spring 1926

It was late Spring of his Freshman year at Colorado College. Dolphus had trained religiously for the event – a five mile foot race up Cheyenne Mountain as the major event on a program to dedicate the opening of this new scenic Highway and the spacious Lodge constructed atop the mountain. A host of well trained American runners toed their marks when the call “on your marks!” was given. The Americans included five Indian runners from the Hopi and Zuni reservations in Arizona, and another Indian runner, Chief Evergreen Tree, from Denver. Paavo Nurmi was not included in the contingent of foreign runners. He had been invited but sent last minute regrets. Four other outstanding European runners were there.

“Get set!”

“Bang!” the runners were away with the firing of the pistol. The Hopis and Zunis took the lead immediately, setting a pace so fast up the steep grade that no one believed they would get far. They disappeared around the first switch-back. A champion Italian runner followed, then Dolphus, then Chief Evergreen Tree. Some forty other starters were strung out behind.

The Highway consists of a series of straight uphill stretches varying in length from one fourth to one half mile, sandwiched between switch backs and Hairpin turns, as it ascends the mountain’s East face. The other runners expected to find the exhausted Hopis and Zunis around one of the turns. But the five little Indians were not seen! When the Italian champ, Dolphus, and Chief Evergreen Tree reached the summit they found the five Indian runners seated on the ground against a building, laughing and conversing in their native tongue and puffing on cigarettes. Until that moment Dolphus who had never tried smoking in his life, thought he could out last any runner who smoked tobacco in any form.

Dolphus competed that season for the first time in the thirteen mile Rocky Mountain News marathon from Littleton to Denver. He finished the race but was well back in the pack of the runners.

The ‘Coup de Grace’
handwritten on letterhead, spring 1926?

The Fall and Winter semester was soon over. Despite the lack of football Dolphus had been quite busy with school running, and trucking. He had added a new undertaking to the Stroud Bros activities. Each week-end he drove sixty-five miles to Canon City to purchase three tons of Canon City Nut or Canon City Lump Coal to market in Colorado Springs. When road conditions permitted, he made the trip directly across the mountains to Canon City. But when the mountain road was impassable because of ice and snow, the one hundred thirty mile round-trip by way of Pueblo was taken. Since the intent was to arrive at the mines for loading between 4 p.m. and 5 p.m. the slow, largely second gear return was made after dark with arrival in Colo. Spgs. Between 11-p.m. and mid-night. These night drives across the mountains were beautiful but fraught with danger – an over-loaded one and one-half ton truck climbing and descending narrow, snowy, icy, mountain roads, replete with curves and switch-backs, could hardly be described in milder terms.

The Call for Track was issued by the Coach, Joe Irish, in March. Some years before Dolphus’s advent Colorado College had a locally famous Black Sprinter, Charlie Holmes. Having followed Charlie’s exploits, knowing that Joe Irish was a northerner, likely from Illinois, and since track was not a body contact sport in which some of his blackness might contaminate a white member of the team, Dolphus could see no possibility of rejection. Nevertheless, when the Black runner asked for track equipment Joe Irish summoned him to the office.

There he began a long dissertation about how much he loved Blacks, how he had been nursed by a Black mammy and how some of his best friends were Black, including the Barber Shop porter who shined his shoes and Leon Lester, thee Black Janitor who cleaned some of the college buildings. He mentioned that Colorado College had a negro on the track team a few years before and it had been very difficult for the athletic Dept. Special arrangements had to be made for this negro with Negro homes in whatever locality the team chanced to be performing so that meals and sleeping accommodations could be provided. Because of the work and worry a Negro member would cause he had to refuse Dolphus a chance to try for the team.

That was the ‘Coup de Grace.’ As he departed from Irish’s presence Dolphus knew he must find a different college to enroll in for the next school year.

Littleton to Denver
yellow legal paper, handwritten, 1927?

Dolphus and Tandy took their marks with more than a hundred other hopefuls for the ten and eight-tenths marathon from Littleton to Denver. Sponsored by Denver’s second largest newspaper this was Colorado’s imitation of the famed Boston marathon. Dolphus admired Tandy’s body angle and long stride, both marks of a good runner, as they traversed the early part of the race. Tandy, in addition to being a straight “A” student, was the top miler and half-miler on the high school track team.

After thirty minutes of running Tandy and Dolphus were leading the race by some 220 yards. As the miles passed this lead increased to a quarter mile.

Tandy was the sort of competitor who would give his last ounce of effort to whatever he undertook. Whereas, Dolphus always held back a reserve to be drawn on only in the greatest emergency.

As they entered the Denver City Limits Tandy was evidently feeling good. He accelerated the pace and began outdistancing Dolphus about a mile from the Rocky Mountain news offices and the finish of the run in the heart of Downtown Denver the younger Stroud staggered and fell. Dolphus sprinted to his side to see what help he could give Tandy gasped out, “Go on! Go on! Win the race!” then he lay still. Convinced that he was fulfilling Tandy’s wish Dolphus raced on to win the marathon by 300 yards, then hurried to Fitzimmons General Hospital to find Tandy weak but alive.

Safari
yellow legal paper, handwritten, 1927, en route to Chicago

With the gas tank of his 1919 model Dodge pickup truck filled, a bag of sandwiches, some pieces of fried chicken and a piece of home-made cake all prepared by his mother, and the best wishes of his Father and brothers and sisters Dolphus headed North to Denver with something more than fifty dollars in his pockets and 1277 miles to cover over the north 40 of the Pikes Peak Ocean to Ocean Highway to Chicago. His destination was the same as that of his Brother, Albert and Jesse Tarrant, who had been in the Windy City for a year, but his route was through Nebraska and Iowa where they had traveled Kansas and Missouri.

The eastward Journey from Denver was an experience. The highway was unpaved except for those stretches inside the confines of the larger towns. Pavement where found was concrete or red brick. The approximate size of a community could be determined in advance by the nature and abundance of the advertising as one approached its borders. And on the long dusty or muddy stretches between settlements one was entertained by reading the Burma Shave jingles on the fence posts. The sugar beet fields of northeastern Colorado and western Nebraska (owned mostly by the Holly Sugar Co.) seems ample for the needs of the entire nation.

In the late afternoon of his second day on the road Dolphus reached Omaha and the Missouri River where he crossed the longest and most imposing bridge he had ever seen into Council Bluffs, Iowa. Traveling East from Council Bluffs Dolphus entered the rich corn belt. It was early in the Season but the corn stalks and Dolphus thought of “oh beautiful for spacious skies for amber waves of grain.”

The towns were close together now – and interesting. The people were friendly, and the old Dodge was purring smoothly. Due east to Des Moines, then on East and slightly North to Clinton and the Mississippi River. Over the Bridge and he was on the final stretch to Chicago. Dolphus had been driving for two days and nights with four hours rest back in Nebraska. He knew his next rest stop would be in Chicago.

The Dodge rolled into Chicago about 5 a.m. and after a few inquiries Dolphus made it to the Wabash Ave. Branch of the Y.M.C.A. where he found his best friend, Jesse Tarrant. Dolphus paid the seven dollar weekly rent for a room at the “Y.”, washed up, and with Jesse as guide set out for Maywood, a west side suburb, where his brother, Albert, had moved to begin a trucking business there with the model T. Ford he and Jesse had driven from Colorado Springs.

Albert was in his office, a little two by four shack about the size of an Iowa outhouse [Crossed out: when Dolphus and Je] located at 12th Street directly across St Charles Road from the Giant American Can Co. Plant. Across 12th St. on the other corner was DeMarco filling station where Albert secured his water, ate some of his meals, and was generally be-friended. It was readily apparent to Dolphus that Anne, the DeMarco daughter, who was near Albert’s age and Albert had a mutual “thing” for each other but both lacked the courage to tell the other. Anne had six brothers who were all fine young men.

Mr. & Mrs. DeMarco had come from Italy as adults and their English was difficult to understand.

Albert outlined quite convincingly the rosy prospects of a trucking business in Maywood. His was the only trucking Co. in the Village. There was little prejudice against Blacks there. In the Winter he could profit handsomely handling fuel. Coal cost from four to five dollars per ton wholesale and retailed for 50 cents per 100-lb. bag with a ten cent increment per bag for every flight of stairs the delivery man must climb. This insured a gross profit of at least 100% on all coal handled. The Village hauled the ashes and trash from private residences, but business and commercial establishments had to take care of their own trash removal. Albert had secured a measure of this type of hauling including some of the American Can Company’s business. He also had his eye on a gigantic pile of manure out in St. Charles that could be purchased for forty dollars. With that they could enter the land-scape gardening business on a grand scale and make a fortune in the West side suburbs of Oak Park, Forest Park, River Forest, and Maywood. Dolphus agreed to seriously consider putting his Dodge Truck into the business with Albert, but decided to live out the week he had paid for at the Wabash Ave. “Y.”

Before they returned to Chicago Albert insisted that Jesse and Dolphus accompany him down to a soda fountain and lunch counter on Fifth Ave. (Maywood’s main business street) to show us how liberal the Village was. He assured us there was no discrimination. We sat in a booth and were completely ignored for a matter of some ten minutes. Albert went to the counter and informed the manager at the cash register that we desired service. Instead of a trim little waitress, one of the cooks in dirty whites came to take our orders. Feeling that the food might be tampered with or served in unclean vessels, Dolphus ordered a pint of milk and a box of animal crackers to go. Ben [Albert goes by Ben sometimes] ordered a ham sandwich and milk shake, Jesse declined to order, stating that he never ate where the operators didn’t want to feed him. When we finished the cook picked up the table cloth and all its contents, including dishes and water glasses, and dropped it all in the garbage can in front of our eyes. Albert paid what seemed to be an excessively high amount for the service and without receiving a “thank you” or “come back again” we departed.

Dolphus spent the next day seeking unsuccessfully for employment in some phase of the printing industry. Advertisements for pressmen, type-setters, proof readers, and line-type operators were plentiful, but positions had just been filled everywhere that the Black youth applied. The following day he began seeking work period. Late that afternoon he was given provisional employment as a driver for Your Cab Co. Black owned and operated. The job was conditioned on his getting a chauffer’s license within the next two days. The chauffer’s license test was given at a municipal Bldg. in the “Loop.” Questions related as much to car maintenance as they did to operation. Some of these questions were: -

1. How does the internal combustion engine operate?
2. Describe the function of these parts: - Fuel Pump, Distributor, Carburetor, Spark Plugs, pistons, Fly wheel, crank shaft, transmission, Drive shaft, Universal Joint
3. Diagram the following gear shifts: - standard, Dodge, Studebaker, Buick,
4. Detail the essential processes in repairing a flat tire.
5. Describe methods for locating non-washing spark plugs and burned out coils.

The examination required three hours to complete and concluded with a test drive through the Loop. Dolphus paid the 3.00 fee passed the test with no difficulty.

Ben’s Express / A Pile of Manure / Gas a Plenty but No Light / Unexpected Revenue / Grease-Monkey / The Basement / A Vice-President Resigns / To Find a Job
yellow legal paper, handwritten, 1927

Ben’s Express

Three nights of driving the cab convinced Dolphus that the job was not for him. His lack of knowledge of the city and his moral scruples against acting as a procurer and boot legger made him unsuitable for the job. Loading his suitcase on the Dodge he returned to Maywood to join forces with his brother in the establishment of Ben’s Express in Maywood, Illinois. Albert had been christened Albert Lloyd Benny Stroud when born. At this point in his life he chose to call himself Ben and the budding business, Ben’s Express, with offices at 12th & St. Charles Rd., Maywood, Illinois.

A Pile of Manure

On a Monday delivery to St. Charles, Ben discovered a huge pile of manure, probably a thousand yards or more, on a farm en route. Inquiries produced the offer to sell the pile for forty dollars. Payment was made on the spot and a receipt secured for the fertilizer. All that week Ben’s Express took orders for manure to be delivered the following Sunday at $12.00 per cubic yard. That Sunday the two brothers took both trucks to St. Charles, intending to make a fortune from their orders. They were stopped at the farm gate by two men with machine guns and ordered away from the farm. A short time later that farm was raided by Federal prohibition agents and it was revealed that the manure pile was a camouflaged arsenal of weapons and store house for bootleg liquor belonging to the Atelo brothers.

Gas a Plenty but No Light

One of Ben’s Express’ most dangerous jobs was done for the Maywood African Methodist Episcopal Church. The gas pipes in the basement of the church had ruptured and the electricity had been turned off to prevent the chance of explosion and fire. The church wanted its piano removed from the gas filled basement to a new location. The two brothers took the job. At that time they had no piano dollies and did not realize such moving aids existed.

When they unlocked and opened the church’s basement door the gas fumes were terrific. Moreover, they could hardly see into the darkened recesses. Dropping back for a bit of hyperventilation, they took deep breaths and entered the basement holding their breath. They located the piano near the rear of the room before being forced from the building for more air. Realizing that any spark could explode that gas in between breaths the brothers spread papers on the floor where the piano would be rolled. Then pushing the piano a few feet each time between trips out of the basement for fresh air, the managed to get it to the door and out of the gas filled cellar.

Unexpected Revenue

A close watch on expenditures had characterized the operations of Ben’s Express from its beginnings; but a new austerity program had to be adopted by mid-Summer of 1927. The two brothers had to give up the luxury of the room they rented from Mrs. Watson and move into the front and back seat of a non-operating model T. touring car housed in a wooden single car garage in the back yard of a modest Maywood home. There was no light, heat, or water in the garage but there was an outside faucet at the house. They reduced their hot meals to Sunday Dinners at Mrs. Watson’s (They had been eating one meal daily there) despite these economies the company was struggling for survival. One Saturday afternoon upon returning from a fruitless effort to collect for a moving job done on credit they picked up a flyer from the street that advertised some of the events of a traveling carnival that was holding sway on a vacant lot at 14th & Madison Streets. It contained an offer of ten dollars per round for every round anyone could stay with the Carnival’s heavy weight boxers with an extra twenty-five dollar bonus for anyone who could win the three round bout. Ben decided that Ben’s Express should enter temporarily into a new business.

The arena was well filled as Ben and I entered the ring. As my Brother’s manager and second for the occasion, I watched carefully as Kid Sullivan, the carnival’s champion’s hands were taped He was a big strong hard faced Irishman, weighing in at 222 pounds, whereas Ben tipped the scales at 185 and Dolphus had some misgivings although he knew Ben had never lost a fight through grammar and high school days. Ben could hit as hard as a mule could kick and he was extremely difficult to hurt.

The first round was passed in skirmishing with Ben having a slight edge and winning the nod. He confided to Dolphus that he’d like to win all three rounds and the fight, which would bring a total of $55. The second round followed a similar pattern with Ben again winning by a narrow margin as a result of his seeming to tire badly at the close of the round and was staggered at the bell. Ben came out blazing in the last round and nearly tore Kid Sullivan’s head from his body before thirty seconds had passed with a knockout punch that left him helpless on the floor for a full minute. Ben’s Express was assured of a new capital flow adequate to carry the business through another three weeks.

Grease-monkey

The late Summer meeting of Ben’s Express stock holders discovered that another financial crisis was approaching. Since commercial hauling jobs were few and far between; Dolphus, the company vice president had been scouring the streets, alleys, and vacant lots of Maywood, Forest Park, and Oak Park, gathering salvageable items such as: milk bottles, beer bottles, jugs, scrap metals, and Iron and hauling them for sale to the junk dealers along 22nd St. and Roosevelt Rd. in Cicero. Because of the wide area that had to be covered and the time consumed to secure a pay load the profit from this venture was small. Ben guarded the headquarters in Maywood but jobs were very infrequent.

The stockholders concluded that a steady reliable source of income was necessary to maintain the business through its rough building period. The vice president was assigned to securing the steady income flow.
A few days after the meeting Dolphus was hired to grease and wash cars at the Crawford-Diversey Garage in Chicago’s north west sector for forty dollars per week. Since he was not to report for work until the following morning at 8 a.m., He had time for a crash course in car washing from his brother Ben. Since Alemite guns and fittings were a recent improvement in the greasing business with which neither brother was familiar, that part had to be played by ear.

Dolphus greased and washed a never ending line of cars for nine hours daily for a week. Then his old faithful Dodge truck developed a serious ailment requiring the attention of a specialist. The Dodge had reached the impossible age: “Too young to junk and too old to repair.” The brothers finally concluded they would junk the Dodge piece by piece, as needed, to keep the ford in gas and mechanical condition. The Ford was the older vehicle, but it had survived a motor transplant and other corrective surgery that gave it a far greater life expectancy. Since the time consumed in traveling from Maywood to Crawford and Diversey street by public transportation was prohibitive the loss of the use of the Dodge meant that Dolphus had to give up his full time attention to his vice presidential duties with Ben’s Express.

The Basement

In mid-September of 1927 Ben’s Express was still on its austerity program. The president was still housed in the front seat and the vice president in the back seat of the model T. Ford Cool nights and the lack of water were the more disagreeable features of their living quarters. The garage was unsealed and cracks between the pieces of 1”x6” paneling that constituted the siding permitted the breezes to flow through the interior with little interruption. Accomplishing ones daily ablutions was difficult at best but the weekly bath was a protracted major undertaking. The company officials owned a one gallon bucket, a wash pan, two wash cloths and two towels. The cold water faucet at the back of the house was more than a hundred feet from the garage. Since one bucket of cold water would cleanse only a small portion of one’s body, it required from ten to 15 round trips to the house to complete a bath. One had to remove the clothing from whatever body area he was bathing after a bucket full of water was secured, cleanse and rinse that area, dry off and dress himself again to go for the next bucket of water. Prior to coming to Chicago the Strouds had been devotees of the daily bath.

In checking the records of the week that he spent at the Crawford-Diversey Garage Dolphus saw where Ben had turned down an eighty dollar contract to enlarge a basement under a two story house in River Forest about three miles from 12th & St Charles Rd. In discussing this with Ben Dolphus ascertained that the area to be excavated was forty feet long, twenty feet wide and six feet deep. With only one person active in Ben’s Express it was not consistent with the growth of the business to accept this job when the pay offered amounted to just eighty dollars. However, with the vice president back on the job it might be reconsidered. The dirt had to be wheel-barrowed to a pit about 150 ft from the house

Dolphus was not certain of the expansion constant to use in figuring the conversion of the packed earth to loose earth in that portion of Illinois, but he felt that three would be a more than adequate figure. His calculations revealed that 533 yds of loose earth would have to be moved requiring about 1599 wheel barrow loads Allowing six minutes on the average for each wheel barrow load he could move 100 wheel barrows full in each ten hour day. That would require a maximum of 16 days to complete the job. Since these calculations were based on maximums held have to earn at worst five dollars per day – very good pay. Dolphus called, learned that shovels, pick and wheelbarrow would be supplied at the job, and agreed to begin the following morning. Checking his financial reserves he found he would have to foot it to and from the job site daily and limit himself to thirty cents per day for food.

Dolphus began the job at 6 a.m. on a Monday. At 5:45 p.m. the following Sunday he approached his employer for his inspection of the work and pay. In the intervening hours he had loosened with pick and shovel and removed 1586 wheel barrows filled with dirt from beneath that house to a pit 160 feet away which was now converted into a huge earth mound. The owner, his wife, and three teen-aged daughters came down to inspect the work and pronounced it excellent. The daughters, who had been home during most of the excavating and had supplemented Dolphus’ noon-day meal with a glass of cold lemonade on four or five occasions mentioned casually that he must have eaten like a horse when he got home each night since he consumed so little food during the day, and their father, after giving Stroud a $100.00 bill, explaining that the extra twenty was for a superb job, asked to have Sunday supper with the family as they were ready to serve.

Dolphus washed up and joined the family in a roast beef dinner – the best food he had ever tasted. Striving to hide his truly famished condition he ate at a steady, casual rate, consuming everything placed before him down to the last crumb of cake and the ice cream.

Dolphus didn’t relish walking the streets after dark with a $100.00 bill in his possession; so he asked for change for the bill in order to pay bus fare. Instead of change the family insisted on driving him home. Arriving at the alley entrance to the garage they insisted on meeting Ben, whom Dolphus had described at the dining table in terms of worship, (Ben was really a rare individual who stuck to his convictions no matter what the cost and didn’t know how to be defeated at any task he undertook) Advising that they bring a flashlight, Dolphus knocked on the garage door and announced to Ben that company was coming.

The older Stroud found the two kerosene lanterns and lit them as the family (an Irish-Italian mixture) entered. In the eerie light introductions were completed and Ben explained that for a month now he had lived in the front apartment and Dolphus in the rear apartment of the model T. Ford. From Ben the girls elicited the information that the brothers ate one hot meal weekly and that Dolphus had dug their basement on a 30 cent per day food budget that allowed him just one meal of crackers and milk daily, which he consumed on the job at noon. After complementing the two Strouds as being unusually worthy young men the Father confided to them incidents in his young life revealing that he too had known hard times and had managed to survive them with ideals and conscience intact. As the Father and his wife and daughters departed both they and the Stroud boys knew that the digging of that basement and the subsequent events had established a pleasant memory bond between five white persons and two young Black men that would endure throughout the lives of all concerned.

A Vice President Resigns

Despite a program of severe austerity that had continued for a period of months and the brief feeling of affluence when the basement excavation job was finished, Ben’s Express was approaching an October Crisis. Dolphus began a serious assessment of the situation. Earnings from the business could probably support one tight belted person through the Winter, but not two. The revenue was almost exclusively from coal deliveries and there was just one delivery truck with no immediate prospects of acquiring a second. His original purpose in coming to Chicago was to start the fall term at Northwestern University. Nothing had been saved for such a purpose and if he remained out of school too long, he might lose the drive to finish college. He still had a Colorado College scholarship that would pay part of his expenses through the Sophomore year. Education was the paramount consideration. Track participation was secondary. By mid October such thinking convinced Dolphus that he must quit the business, find a job in Chicago and save enough money to return home as quickly as possible.

Ben showed no surprise when Dolphus revealed his intentions, even confessing that, had a scholarship been available to him, he, too, would have used it.

To Find a Job

Closing the door of his apartment gently too avoid shaking the chassis of the model T. and disturbing the occupant of Apt. #1, and with $3.72 in his pockets Dolphus headed south to Madison Ave. to begin his eastern trek in the direction of Chicago watching for “Employee needed” window signs in the businesses he passed. By mid morning he had reached the outskirts of Chicago and had applied for employment at three establishments with signs indicating a need for a worker. One job required experience as a presser. The other two indicated their employees were all white.

Dolphus entered five cafes asking “do you serve colored persons here?” before finding one that voiced no objections. Strange to say it was the cleanest and most prosperous appearing of the six. He gave the smiling waitress an order for Ham and Eggs toast and coffee, found a want-add section of the Chicago Daily News, and began an examination of the “wanted male help,” columns, many of the adds were employment agency “come ons,” and a lot were genuine. A well dressed, middle aged, dark haired woman seated herself at Dolphus’ table and, introducing herself as owner of the restaurant, asked how he enjoyed the meal and service. The Black youth assured her that both were excellent. The conversation turned to his search for employment and she confided to Dolphus that Blacks were included in her ancestry and she had found it necessary to pass for white when she came to Chicago twenty years before in order to secure employment as a waitress. She later married the owner of the Loop restaurant where she worked and had never disclosed, even to her husband, who died three years ago, that she was part negro. She suggested that Dolphus apply to the Fred Harvey system for work, if he wished to get into cafe or dining car employment.

Leaving the cafe Dolphus made his way to canal street and the Chicago Union Station. Inquiries in the main employment offices of the Fred Harvey System elicited the information that Mr. Owens, who hired for the Fred Harvey enterprises in the Union Station, and Mr. Carmine, who performed the same functions for the Pennsylvania and Santa Fe Railroad dining car operations, were away from Chicago and would return in two days.

Until five that evening Dolphus trudged Chicago’s Loop asking for employment at many places without any solid commitments. Five or six employers suggested that he return the following day. The search had convinced Dolphus that the salvation of the black masses rested in a strong cadre of Black businessmen whose enterprises would be of a magnitude sufficient to utilize all the employable Blacks and some of the employables from other races as well. Most Black College graduates had prepared for drone activities where they exploited the wealth of the Blacks rather than increasing it. In this conclusion he was thinking of wealth in terms of dollars and cents and not intangibles such as spiritual strength, development of mental and physical potentials and cultural growth.

Dolphus returned to Maywood with something less than two dollars remaining of his $3.72.

After revisiting the employers who had suggested he return (with negative results) Dolphus worked the North side on his second job hunting day, no work was found. However, he felt that his Fred Harvey chances might be productive on the following day. Conserving barely enough capital for “L” fare the next day, he invested the balance of his wealth in a scanty meal.

The following morning Dolphus debarked from the Maywood “L” at Canal St. and entered the Fred Harvey offices in the Union Station. There he was told that neither Mr. Owens nor Mr. Carmine would be in the office. Mr. Owens would be in for certain the next day. Disappointed, Dolphus asked for pen and paper and left a brief note for Mr. Owens explaining his need for a job.

The job search continued, first to State St. then south on State past Roosevelt Road and Twenty-Second St. and into the huge Black section. The area on State and Dearborn streets from 25th to 42nd was so rough and vulgar that Dolphus would not have accepted a job there, if preferred. It was Chicago at its worst, here a big fat woman sitting on the top step of a flight leading to a run-down flat, her dress pulled up around her hips, calling, “come here boy.”, there a group of dirty, raggedy children chasing down the sidewalks, shouting language that topped anything the toughest marine sergeant could say, and in the alleys the old, the sick and the deformed searching through rat infested garbage cans for whatever bits of food they could salvage. An utterly revolting environment.

At 5-p.m. Dolphus found himself at 63rd & South Parkway. Two cents was in his pockets and he had not eaten a bite since the previous day. It was sixty-three long blocks back to the Loop and then 113 more blocks to Maywood. A famished person suffers most when he is constantly tempted by the delicious odors of cooking food and the sight of diners enjoying their full from well stocked tables. Dolphus was constantly subjected to such smells and sights.

By 9 p.m. Dolphus had reached Oak Park Blvd. fingering the two pennies in his pocket for assurance that he was not completely destitute. A penny peanut vending machine was attached to the building he was passing. A sudden irresistible wave of hunger forced him to place a penny in the slot and turn the release for a small snack of salted peanuts. As he chewed these the other penny followed and Dolphus was broke.

The rest of the way to Maywood Dolphus pondered his situation. There was a feeling of having given way to a weakness of character in spending his last two pennies. He considered and rejected immediately the thought of mentioning his problems to his brother. He had sensed that Ben had his “back to the wall” from the letter’s conversation during the past few days. Ambitious and evasive answers were given to queries about the business Ben had steered most conversations into sterile channels such as football and religion. Moreover, Dolphus had been awakened one morning around 3 a.m. and secretly observed Ben counting his change. He went through all his pockets evidently making sure he wasn’t missing a penny, and there wasn’t a dollar bill in the lot. The pile of pennies, nickels, and dimes could not have totaled a dollar. He would put on another good face for his brother tonight. Then he remembered a forgotten asset – the medals he had won in various track events and the wrist watch, inscribed with his name and 7th place finisher in the First Cheyenne Mountain Marathon. Surely those could be pawned or sold for enough to tide him over a few more days. Hs spirits rose tremendously. It was no longer necessary to put on a “front” for Ben when he reached the “apartment” Dolphus felt truly optimistic.

Leaving the impression that the track mementos were to be used as means of influencing prospective employees, Dolphus placed them in his pockets early the next morning and started back to Chicago, weakened by lack of nourishment but buoyed by his new hopes he hurried to the State Street pawn show row that began at Van Buren on the South side of the “L” Station and continued all the way to Roosevelt Road. Each dealer approached explained to Dolphus that, except for the watch, his mementos had nothing but sentimental value. They all offered $3.00 to $3.50 on the lot. Finally a young dealer made a five dollar offer and Dolphus parted with his trophies.

Beneath the hard facade of a Chicago executive, Mr. Owens was a warm – and even kindhearted – person. He hired Dolphus with little ado as a bus boy in the Fred Harvey Lunch Room there in the Union Station. Fifty dollars a month and board was the pay. Then, reaching in his pocket, he produced a ten dollar bill and proffering it to Dolphus said, “Take this. Pay me back in three weeks. There’ll be things you’ll need before pay day.

There is probably no extant account that captures the mood and character of the Old Chicago of 1927 any better than Dolphus’ unpublished first person description of “Chicago at Christmas Eve.

CHICAGO AT CHRISTMAS EVE
typed, brittle paper, December 1927

“Halsted,” shouted the conductor. I yawned and stretched. Canal Street would be next and that was my destination. Slowly I settled back in my seat for a few more brief moments of semi-sleep before getting up and making my way to the front of the car.

Again I was startled into wakefulness by the cry of the conductor. It was Franklin and Van Buren this time. “Shucks!” I muttered. “Now I’ve got to go around the Loop again. This is the last time I’ll ever pass that station!” Every morning for the last two weeks I had made this same resolution and broken it just as consistently on the following morning.

“La Salle!” Of course I would hear every station in the Loop now that I had passed my own.

“State and Dearborn! Change for the South Side!” As usual, strange emotions swelled in my breast with the calling of this stop. Ever since my first ride on the “L” there had been for me an elusive something connected with that expression. “State and Dearborn! C-H-A-N-G-E F-O-R T-H-E S-O-U-T-H S-I-D-E!” It always made me feel that I should write a great novel or poem with that expression as its title. It seemed to bear some significant relation to life. I often regarded that station as being symbolical of the turning point which confronts every individual some time or other in life. To me the South Side represented all the evil and sordid things in the world – lewdness, immorality, drunkenness, malice, ugliness; while the North Side connoted the happier side – cleanliness, kindness, soberness, beauty. Even after I realized that the North Side was just as bad as the South, the feeling persisted; and if today I should hear that expression, “State and Dearborn! Change for the South Side!” the same romantic associations would arise. I believe the expression has a more or less similar effect on many of the inhabitants of Chicago, especially on the “L” conductors; because they always call State and Dearborn with more emphasis and more emotion (sort of dragged out, you know) than they do the other stations in the Loop.

“Adams and Wabash! Change for the North Side!” This call, too, aroused a peculiar emotion, but not so pronounced as the former.

“Madison and Wabash! Randolph and Wabash! State Lake! Clark Lake! Randolph and Wells! Madison and Wells! Quincy and Wells!” were all called with little or no effect. Then came that third vastly connotative station, possessing associations almost equal to those of State and Dearborn.

“Franklin and Van Buren! The Last stop on the Loop!” I arose and went to the front of the car. Union Station, Canal Street, would be next; and I was taking no chances on riding by again.

A cold stinging wind staggered me as I disembarked from the Garfield Park “L” at six A.M. Stopping only long enough to observe that the thermometer was registering five degrees below zero, I rushed precipitously down the steps into the protection of the station house. I followed the subway from the “L” to the Union Station, where I had been working for the last two months in the Fred Harvey Lunch Room as bus boy. It was early and few persons were about in the station. The porters, young Negroes only recently come from Dixie, were mopping the floors, happy in the freedom and opportunity they had found in the North. One tall youth from Georgia was whistling the Kansas City Man Blues, while the others sang the words. But their singing did not diminish the speed with which they worked. On the contrary, the work was accelerated, since all swung their mops to the rhythm of the Blues. I was struck by the ease and grace of their movements, which accomplished so much with such little apparent effort. I was more or less acquainted with them; and each spoke as I passed.

“Hello there, College. What’cha sayin?” (That was the sobriquet by which they called me.)

I made some suitable rejoinder, such as, “I can’t say it,” or “Fellah, you got it all.”
Continuing on my way I descended the stairs to the cafeteria floor.

The cafeteria and the restaurant were closed at this hour; but the bus boys were already about preparing the tables for the coming rush. At the end of the passage I punched the time clock, threw in my check, and entered the dressing room. None of my co-laborers had arrived; but a few of the night bus boys were on hand smoking and lying.

At the moment that I entered a big thick-lipped man from Mississippi was exhibiting his knowledge or, perhaps more truly, his ignorance about watches. He did, however, possess at least two fine Swiss creations of which he was so proud that he wore them both at the same time, and at frequent intervals drew them from his pocket to see if they were in accord as to the time.

Meanwhile I undressed and took my cold water bath, a proceeding which caused the other occupants of the room to curse and shiver, although I stoically managed to inhibit all outward signs of the effect the water was having on me.

“You’re gonna kill your fool self, College,” a boy whom we called Arkansas because of his being from that state, warned me. “Honestly, I’d rather take a whipping than git in that water.”

Arkansas, bundled in a big overcoat, black silk mufflers about his ears, overshoes, and gloves, had just come in. In spite of his more than adequate attire he was at that moment suffering from a severe cold; whereas, I wore neither overcoat, gloves, overshoes, cap, nor mufflers and had been free from cold for the last six years. I attempted to impress these facts on Arkansas; but the other bus boys were coming in; and they, being from Dixie too, inevitably sided with him.

You’re in Chicago now, Fellah! You’re not back in Colorado!” (they pronounced the a long) Doc explained to me. “This wind’s gonna cut you a new one, if you don’t git some clothes.”

“I’ve been out when it was forty below and the wind doing sixty miles an hour,” I argued.

“Yes, but it doesn’t hurt you up in those mountains. You can’t feel it.”

I endeavored to explain to them that by taking a cold water bath each morning and running a mile or two in a track suit, I had developed a constitution that was not easily conquered by the weather. I’m afraid, though, that my only accomplishment was to convince them that I was a trifle weak minded.

As a result of the conversation about cold a young man from Mississippi, a graduate of the Cotton Blossom College, related some interesting facts which he had read in the morning Tribune. “Some fool, ah disremembahs the name, went up eight thousand feet in a airplane. ‘Twus so cold up there his bref friz to his lips. He says twus seventy-six thousand below zero.”

I interrupted him at this point and attempted to explain that it could not have been that cold, since negative 373 degrees centigrade is the coldest temperature possible in the universe; but another story was begun by an older man who claimed to have traveled all over the world. The latter asserted that in Butte, Montana he had seen it so cold that it was as bright as day at midnight, just as it is at the North Pole. I stopped arguing then.

Having all donned our white coats and aprons, we hastened upstairs to get our breakfasts. Although somewhat particular as regards the more expensive desserts, Fred Harvey certainly does provide plenty of good,wholesome, common food for his employees.

“Wheat cakes and sausage!” I shouted to Lou, one of the German cooks, as I entered the kitchen. The remainder of my meal, consisting of a banana, cereal with pure rich cream, an extra large glass of more cream, a chocolate eclair, and a French sweet roll, I prepared myself.

The talk at the breakfast table was mostly about women, drinking, and gambling; and so clearly and forcefully did each express himself that the conversation would have destroyed the appetite of anyone possessing concrete imagery to any large degree.

Breakfast over, we proceeded to our various stations to send down the dirty dishes and make ourselves generally agreeable, as well as useful, to the waitresses until dinner time. Although the Fred Harvey System feeds an average of five thousand persons every day in the year at the Chicago Union Station, the work is light. (It could hardly be otherwise, considering that the bus boys receive only fifty dollars a month.) But today we all realized that we would be kept going steadily until closing time, for the Christmas rush was at its peak.

Ordinarily Fred Harvey hires his help in the Southern fashion -- white waitresses and Negro bus boys -- but in Chicago there were exceptions to this rule. Some of the bus boys were Spanish; while one of the girls was an Indian and another a Louisiana Creole. The other fifty or sixty were white; but most of them were foreigners or descendants of foreigners.

In my station were mostly girls between eighteen and twenty-five years of age. Consequently, there was little friction. Everyone moved fast and was courteous to everyone else.

In the other stations there was constant trouble. To begin with the personnel of most of them was inharmonious. Some of the waitresses were old and fat; while others were young and slim. Some were atrociously disagreeable; and others entirely too agreeable. Some were too erudite; and others nearly illiterate. The bus boy was too slow and ignorant. The escalator was broken, the water froze up, etc.

By eight o’clock the house was jammed. All the tables and counters were occupied; while over a hundred guests were waiting to take the places of those who might finish. Eighteen cooks sweated in front of the long gas and electric ranges; while a score more were rushing about on the lower floor, preparing food to be to be sent up.

As usual in a big rush, the waitresses became excited. Frantically they ran hither and thither, forgetting this and dropping that. The boys were impatient or angered and the cooks ready to fight.

“Spoons! Where are the spoons, Bus! What the hell’s the matter with you?” some girl demanded. “Don’t cuss me, woman,” the boy answered as he hastened into the kitchen to guard the escalator and secure the first box of silverware arriving from the dishwashing room.

Then some girl bawled out a cook. “Where’s my ham and? I ordered it half an hour ago!”

“You didn’t order it.”

“You’re a liar!”

“Git the hell out of here! I haven’t got time to fool with you!”

“Gimme my order or I’ll get Mr. Owens!”

“I said git out!” And the big German jumped over the steam-table and kicked her.

The girl, Caroline it proved to be, ran crying into the lunch room and told Mr. Owens. Irate and ready to fight the manager rushed into the kitchen cursing the militant cook soundly in terms that would have shocked women anywhere but in Chicago. The latter malevolently grabbed a knife.

At the critical moment, Mr. Carmine, the superintendent of the entire Harvey system, appeared on the scene. A semblance of harmony was restored.

At eleven thirty more bus boys and waitresses arrived to handle the Noon rush; while we, who had been working in a frenzy all morning, went below for a brief respite.

Well Bus, How’d you like this morning?” questioned Jean, the attractive blonde who worked the busiest station in the house, the front station in my stall.

“Oh I enjoyed it,” I replied. “I like the rushes better than anything else.” I was not lying then, because I really looked forard to them as a means of forgetting certain matters which were worrying me.

“You surely handle them well!” praised Jean. “I bet our station is the only one that didn’t have trouble today. I’ve been here three years, Bus, and I’ve never seen any Bus handle his station as well as you do.”

“Thanks,” I answered. I hope you’ll never think otherwise. We had reached the door of the girl’s dressing room.

“What’s your name,” she questioned. “I hate to call you Bus.”

I told her and then proceeded to the other dressing room to wash a little of the sweat from my body and put on new linen.

Returning upstairs I secured my dinner, consisting mainly of fruits and cold drinks; for, in spite of the sub-zero temperature outside, it was too warm in the Fred Harvey Lunch Room.

I ate alone, since the other bus boys, being completely tired out from the morning rush, had not yet come up. Business had subsided somewhat; so I strolled over to the bar to kid the little seventeen year old bar girl until I should be needed in my station.

Soon all the bus boys except Grover, an unassuming little man who succeeded in making himself quite inconspicuous by his habitual silence and who bore the title of “Head Bus”, appeared in their respective stations. Johnny Howard, Poach, Ralph Dorsey, Arkansas, and Doc comprised the lot.

In no time the house was jammed to capacity. All the counters and tables were completely filled; and those waiting utilized all the available standing space, making it making it doubly difficult for the nervous waitresses to perform their duties. Mishaps were frequent; the mop being always in demand.

Crash! Came a terrible noise from the balcony. One of the busses had dropped an entire tray full of dishes. Probably fifty or sixty were broken; but there was no time to worry over the matter. Work continued uninterruptedly. The Noon rush, though more intense than its predecessor, was not so protracted. By two o’clock there were very few diners left.

Having concluded, I suppose, that the hardest work was over, Grover came up. “What’cha sayin’ there, Grover? Why don’t you come from behind that brush, man? You’re not in Mississippi; you’re in Chicago now.” greeted Howard.

The others understood immediately what the latter meant by this harangue; but it required a few moment’s reflection on my part before I perceived that it was Grover’s three day beard to which Johnny had referred.

There was little left to do but keep moving until four o’clock in order to give Mr. Owens the impression that we were working. Naturally we tended to gather about the escalator – 29th and State it was often termed because there is a similar tendency on the part of the Colored inhabitants of Chicago to congregate on that corner and talk, or “Wolf” as it is called.

Grover, who had been creating false impressions in the dining room, suddenly joined our group. We all knew what was up from the pleased excited expression on his face. Nevertheless, we waited for his news. “College, I mean I just smoked over a couple at your station that just won’t quit!” This was the signal for a united rush into the dining room, and for every bus boy to find something to do in or close to my station.

There at the head of the counter sat two remarkably striking Creole girls, doubtless natives of Louisiana. This race, found almost exclusively in the region around New Orleans, is a product of the fusion of French, Negro, Spanish, and Indian bloods. Their complexion varies from what is known as “high brown” to perfect white. Moreover, they possess shining wavy black hair of superb beauty, rivaled only by that of the Hawaiians and certain natives of the South Sea Islands. Asa and Dorsey were Creoles too. As a race they are inherently handsome; but the two girls in question were undoubtedly the most beautiful I had ever seen.

Being boyed by such remarkable pulchritude as much as by my poverty, which would have prevented my taking them out, I refrained from trying to make a ‘hit’. The other boys, though undoubtedly as poor as I, but less concerned about the future and quite willing to dissipate an entire week’s wages on one night’s entertainment, did not hesitate. It was Poach, the Louisiana sheik, who finally conquered his timidity and succeeded in making a date.

After the couple left we all returned to the escalator to give vent to our emotions.

Grover: “Now weren’t stay tight, fellah!”

Arkansas: “Man, they just wouldn’t stop for the red light!”

Poach: - “But that little broad’s forty! I’ll bet she just won’t don’t!” At this point I interrupted with a little advice to Poach.

“Mr. Owens will fire you man, if you don’t watch yourself. You know he doesn’t want you to introduce yourself to the guests.

“If I can’t speak to the women, I don’t want the job,” he reiterated. “I’m no eunuch!”

A little before quitting time the paymaster, or ‘Sugar Man’ as the boys called him, presented us with our week’s salaries. Mine, which ordinarily amounted to about twelve dollars, was more than doubled on this occasion because I had been working a double shift most of the week, and on one day even a triple shift, which consumed the entire twenty-four hours.

Immediately thereafter the waitresses distributed cigarettes and cigars among the rest of the boys; while for me they produced more expensive presents, as they knew that I did not smoke. Neckties, handkerchiefs, scarfs, and dollar bills were literally showered upon me. Of course my co-workers were jealous; but that fact merely served to augment my jubilation. Even the stern Mr. Owens remembered me -- to my surprise I must confess.

Ralph and I ate alone that afternoon; for the rest of the boys had departed early, anxious to start the Christmas celebration as early as possible. Ralph was a short, light complexioned, boy from Pittsburgh who, judging from his manners, had received a good upbringing and a better than average education. During the meal we discussed moot political and philosophical questions, such as, what candidates would the political parties nominate and was there really such a thing as abstract righteousness. Ralph was the closest approach to a real friend that I possessed at the Fred Harvey Lunch Room; at least he was the only one with whom I had some things in common. Neither of us had lived for any extended time below the Mason Dixon Line. We were both educated in the mixed schools of the North. We had both received a year of college training. And we had both been in Chicago shifting for ourselves for the last six months.

The meal over, I hastily changed my clothes, rushed to Canal Street, and boarded a Loop bound “L”. Disembarking at State and Dearborn, I directed my steps to the Central Post Office, where I proceeded to mail a money order of twelve dollars and fifty-two cents to the Adams Motor Co. in Colorado Springs, Colorado, as the usual monthly payment on the 1919 Dodge which I had driven to Chicago and had not been able to drive one day after reaching there. A second money-order of five dollars constituted the last payment on another debt that I owed back home. An “L” pass for the ensuing week further depleted my exiguous balance. Then with something like six dollars of my original big pay remaining to me I bordered a Jackson Park Express bound for the South Side.

At four o’clock in the evening one never gets a seat on a South Side “L”; but during the Christmas rushes one is lucky to secure standing room on any means of conveyance whatever. By the time the train reached Adams and Wabash we were crammed into the cars like the trite sardines.

“Roosevelt Road! Indiana next!” bellowed the conductor. The train leaped ahead. There would be no more stops until we reached Forty Second Street. We would cover the next thirty blocks in six minutes. Long ago I had ceased to worry about accidents on the “L”; but curious cold spots played up and down my spine as the cars, very much overloaded, swayed dangerously at every turn. “Indiana! Change for Englewood, Kenwood and Stock Yards!”

Leaving the “L” I walked back to Thirty Eighth and Wabash, where the Wabash branch of the Y.M.C.A. is located. Although I was not at that time connected with the organization, I unhesitatingly exercised all of the privileges of a full fledged member. Since it was to practice on the piano that I had come, I hastened to one of the music rooms and began on Humoresque. I knew practically nothing about a piano and had no teacher; but as a result of my diligent application I was making what I considered rapid advancement. That evening I mastered the piece up to the point where the key changes. Then, as I wished to walk part of the way back to the Loop and, too, the members of the Y. Orchestra had courteously requested to surrender the room to them, I left perforce.

As I walked through that toughest section of Chicago rivaled only by the near West Side, I was profoundly struck by the untold pauperism, misery, and immorality revealed on all sides. Twenty Ninth and State -- What a detestable corner! Men, white, black, and yellow, were sprawled on the sidewalk in drunken stupor. Ugly, misshapen women trudged along wearing swearing and using obscene language more shocking than that of the men. Ninety per cent of their faces were marred by long deep scars, giving irrefutable proof of the popularity of the razor in that neighborhood. Abominable odors of every description coupled with those of various intoxicants permeated the atmosphere. While hither and thither dirty little children dashed cursing as profusely as their elders.

Down to Dearborn I walked and there encountered the most revolting picture of all. Half-clad women of every conceivable race and description stood in the doorways of cellar apartments and called to me as I passed. Human freaks of every sort mingled with the common herd. I recall one little child of about six years whose legs were bent like the hind legs of a dog. She walked animal fashion on her hind legs when she was not in a hurry; but when speed was required she used hands and feet. Her case was pitiful. And I was reminded of a passage from the Scriptures: “And the iniquities of the parents shall be visited upon the children, even unto the third and fourth generations.”

After two blocks of such untold lewdness and terrible poverty I felt so stifled and unclean that I hastens to the “L” station and returned to the Loop.

Again I left the state train at State and Dearborn and headed north on State Street, enjoying the ingenious Christmas decorations of the stores. At Jackson and State I was rudely startled from the contemplation of an extraordinarily clever window setting by a series of shots. Bang! Bang! Bang! Coming from the direction of the Post Office.

I with hundreds of others rushed toward the sound. We arrived to see a Mexican with a long knife in his hand leap from a mail truck and dash into the protection of a shoe store through a hail of machine-gun and automatic fire. Three or four spectators dropped and others attempted to make their way out of the line of fire; but it could not be done. The street had filled solid for a block in every direction with a seething mass of humanity eager to witness the brutal killing which all knew to be inevitable.

Fifteen officers of the law, local and federal, dashed into the shoe store, shooting as they ran. The Mexican had sought shelter behind a white faced trembling clerk. Carefully one of the plain-clothes men aimed and fired, his bullet grazing the shoulder of the clerk. The latter fainted while the Mexican dropped, writhing, on the floor. In a few moments he was dead.

A brutal murder I termed it; though I wisely kept my opinion to myself. There had been no invitation to surrender; and the Mexican was unarmed, save for his knife. But evidently I was mistaken; for in a few moments I heard a newsboy crying, “Extree! Chicago police bravely defend United States Mail!”

Somewhat shaken and in a pensive mood I continued my walk up State Street, paying little heed to my surroundings. Slowly it dawned upon me that a young man was keeping step with me. Seeing that I had noticed him he remarked in high feminine tones, “Rather cool tonight, isn’t it?” I had not been in Chicago six months for nothing; so I immediately grew suspicious of the feminine voice and undue familiarity. Upon noticing the motions of his body as he walked my suspicions were further strengthened; and his neck question proved conclusively that I was right.

“No, I’m not interested,” I answered vigorously.
‘There’s money in it,” he replied, thinking to tempt me, I suppose.

“I said no!” I reiterated more sharply than before; and impressed by my belligerent attitude, which I was not trying to conceal, he slunk away. Conversation with his kind always left a bad taste in my mouth. (There were three of the repugnant creatures working for Fred Harvey.) So I continued on my way somewhat depressed and sick at the stomach, as a result of my last two encounters.

At Washington and State I was attracted by a crowd gathered about a voluble individual, who was verbosely describing the merits of a supposedly Swiss wrist watch which he was advertising. After displaying the exceptional qualities of the one on his wrist, he opened a bag which contained a number of apparently similar watches. “Now the only charge my company allows me to make for this watch is twenty-five cents to cover the advertising expenses! The supply is limited, as you see! Who wants the first?”

Immediately countless quarters, mine included, were handed to him. In a brief moment he had sold out about sixty or seventy watches and disappeared. One can readily imagine my chagrin when, upon attempting to set my watch and wind it, I found that it was nothing but a piece of tin with hands and numerals painted thereon. I felt exceedingly cheap; but my personal discomfiture was considerably offset by the humor which I experienced on regarding the perplexed beaten expressions on the faces of the other fools who had bitten too.

With spirits rejuvenated by my most recent experience I hastened on to the public library, situated on Michigan and Washington. I spent a few moments in the reading room scanning a few Colorado papers and then went to the foreign department to read some pages in a Spanish novel which I had begun.

When the library closed at eight o’clock I concluded, this being Christmas Eve, to allow myself the luxury of a show. I wanted to go to the State Lake, Chicago Roosevelt, Marbro, or Auditorium theater; but previous experience had taught me that I in my mean rags would be out of place sitting next to some millionaire lady from the beautiful North Side. Consequently, I took a Metropolitan “L” to the near West Side, Halstead Street, to be precise.

Walking north toward Madison I passed the West Side headquarters of Al Capone. A meeting of the Union Siciline was then in progress; and Tony Lombardo, at that time the ruler of the Union Siciline, was making an address in Italian. Capone sat upon the stage, richly bejeweled. Being motioned on by one of Al’s lieutenants, I proceeded to the next corner where another interesting scene arrested my gaze. Two gypsy girls were dragging a middle-aged man, wearing a fur coat, up a flight of stairs into a flat. He was screaming, “Help! Murder! Police!” When almost in the doorway he slipped out of the coat, ran down the steps, jumped in a car, and sped away. The gypsy girls kept the coat, worth three or four hundred dollars at least.

The majority of the populace on Madison and Halsted was rapidly becoming inebriated. Some were already sprawled on the sidewalk or in the gutter utterly dead to the world. The morning’s papers would carry a long list of those who died from the ‘extreme’ cold, I reflected. Madison and Halsted exhibits a greater diversity of peoples than any other corner in Chicago. Turks, Malays, Chinese, Japs, Russians, Polaks, Jews, Gypsies, Slavs, Italians, Egyptians, Arabians, Swedes, Germans, Italians, Australians, and even Eskimos are to be found there on any night in the year.

As I continued slowly down Madison I heard a sharp command, “Halt there!” I did not look around, as this was a tough section and I knew it was safest to show no interest in my surroundings. Before I had taken two more steps though I was brought to an abrupt halt by the feel of a revolver muzzle against my ribs. “What’re Ya doin’ there? Why didn’ ja stop? Git them hands up in the sky! Officer of the law!”

I followed directions promptly and implicitly, scanning the breasts of my two assailants, who had now come around in front of me, for the stars which I always associated with officers. “Why didn’ ja stop,” reiterated one of them. “Ya almost got shot.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were yelling at me; and besides, I didn’t know you were officers,” I rejoined.

“Well ya know it now!” the other replied. “How old are ya?”

While the former patted me down for any possible weapon, I replied to the question of the latter, “Twenty.”

“Where d’ya live?”

I did not wish to lie. But realizing that if I confessed the truth, namely, that I did not have a definite place of residence at present, odious consequences might ensue for me, I gave the address of the place where I had roomed during my first two months sojourn in Chicago, thinking thereby to minimize the falsehood, “627 S. Thirteenth Avenue, Maywood. I work at the Fred Harvey Lunch Room in the Union Depot as a bus boy,” I added, becoming fluent so as to curtail further questioning regarding my place of abode. “Here’s my time check.”

Evidently satisfied that I was not a criminal, a fact which should have been evident from the shabbiness of my wearing apparel, they proceeded to have a little fun with me. “How many times ya been in jail lately?” they queried.

“Never in my life,” I rejoined, becoming annoyed because of the attention that we were attracting from the passers-by, and the turn which the questioning had taken. Al Capone and some of his bodyguards, armed to the teeth, passed; and I and took advantage of the occasion to slip in a backhanded dig at the officers, who should have been detaining him instead of me. “I wonder how many times Al Capone’s been in jail?” The crowd, which had collected, caught the hidden meaning and laughed; while the two officers, evidently discomfited, jumped into their car and sped away.

With no further interruption I reached the Haymarket Theatre, where the Seventh Heaven was being shown. When I entered the burlesque part of the program was in full swing. Scantily clad chorus girls were dancing and singing; while the Queen of the Burlesque was strutting back and forth on the stage wrapped in an overcoat. Soon the chorus filed out and the queen was left on the stage alone. Removing the overcoat, she revealed an attire even more scanty than that of her understudies; and each time that she was clapped back after finishing her dance she found it possible to remove a little more of her extremely meager clothing and yet retain some covering too. Then the fat man with the big red nose, the tall man, and the runt -- indispensable components of every burlesque -- came forth to tell jokes in words of extensive connotations which possess a double meaning, one legitimate and the other obscene; while the girls prepared some new shocking attire for the tired business men. After my evening’s meandering through the sordid near South Side I was in no mood for this portion of the show, designed to please the majority, leave the minority indifferent, and disgust a few. Nevertheless, I remained, determined to see the Seventh Heaven.

Thirty minutes later when the burlesque drew to a close my mood had lightened and I was enjoying the show. Needless to say, I was considerably impressed by the Seventh heaven. The young man who sang “Blue Heaven” at appropriate intervals during the picture possessed a remarkable voice. And the soft, sonorous words flowing from his lips left their effect on even the coarsest constituents of the audience. For when the picture ended the entire crowd departed from the theatre in silent orderly fashion, their pensive faces bearing mute evidence of the potent emotions the picture had aroused in their hearts.

At peace with the world and rejoicing with the heroine of the Seventh Heaven in the happiness which she had discovered at the end of those many flights of stairs I hastened to the “L” Station; and drawing forth my one dollar and twenty-five cent weekly pass, I boarded a Wilson Avenue Express to spend the night in semi-sleep on the elevated trains of Chicago -- for they were my only home.

Friend Nebraska
yellow legal paper, handwritten, late 1927?

This trip had been plagued from the beginning. None of the responsible Colorado Springs young men had been able to accompany Dolphus as relief drivers. He had taken a load of household goods from Colorado Springs to Dubuque, Iowa for $100.00 then, running empty, he went to Bekins Chicago warehouse to load the model A stake bodied truck for the return trip to Colorado Springs.

Dolphus and Ben had visited in Maywood for a day prior to loading the lot from Bekins. Ben’s express had grown remarkably since Dolphus resigned as Vice President. An efficient and good looking young lady worked as secretary in the new and larger office Bldg. Ben had secured. He was buying the corner at 12th & St Charles Rd. and the area for the trucks was enclosed by a high steel fence. He had three trucks – one a big mack – and a car to hop about in. His three regular truck employees were skilled movers.

The Bekin lot which included a piano and an organ was an overload for Dolphus’ Ford. Chairs and other lighter items had to be piled high so that the overall height of the load was more than thirteen feet. Everything was covered with a huge securely anchored waterproof tarpaulin and Dolphus started West. Except for this tires, that were only eight ply and dangerously worn for such a heavy load, the load height which made it advisable for him to travel the lesser roads where railroad crossings would be on the level, and concern that his meager funds were not sufficient to get him home, Dolphus had no great worries.

Before he reached the Mississippi River the tires began to pop. At Rock Island two fairly decent looking used tires were purchased. With dual wheels in the rear the two best tires were kept on the front wheels.

Major trouble arose in Iowa west of Des Moines when he came to a railroad under-crossing with less than 12 ft. clearance and could find no surface crossing to use, despite an extensive search. Since no one was with him Dolphus had to remove the tarp and the top three feet of his load and carry the items to the other side of the tracks for reloading when the truck had passed under. Some of the top items were heavy and cumbersome for one man and all had to be roped and secured by a single half hitch [and?] lowered to the ground. A reverse of this process enabled him to reload on the other side. Four hours were consumed in negotiating that railroad crossing.

About a half mile before he reached Friend, Nebraska Dolphus dressed down on the gas pedal for a bit of additional power to maintain momentum on a slight incline. There was only the sound of the engine being raced. Pulling power was lost somewhere. Pulling to the side of the road Dolphus left his vehicle in gear with the engine running. Peering beneath the vehicle he ascertained that the drive shaft was running. That narrowed the tremble down to the differential, rear axle, or cutter pins. Examination in the rear wheel hubs that fit in the axle slots revealed the cutter pins in good shape, Now it was rear axle or gears in the differential – either meant going into the differential housing in the case of the model A. Fords of the 20’s. They did not carry floating axles.

From a nearby farmer Dolphus secured the temporary use of two 55 gal. oil drums. Each side of the rear of the truck was jacked up and an oil drum placed at the corner of the body. The drive shaft was disconnected at the universal joint and the complete rear end removed from under the truck. The friendly farmer then tied the unit behind his pick-up truck and towed it to Friend’s only garage with Dolphus riding along.

The Black Trucker explained to the Garage owner mechanic that it would take all the money he had to purchase oil and gasoline between Friend and Colorado Springs. For that reason the repairs would have to be done on credit and would be paid up when the next trip through Friend was made – likely, in about a month. The owner mechanic agreed to this arrangement without security of any kind; but Stroud insisted on leaving his 30 ft tow chain, his suitcase of personal effects and his 15 carat gold Phi Beta Kappa Key as security for the debt.

The owner mechanic and Dolphus replaced the broken axle reassembled the rear end, towed it back on the Highway and replaced it under the truck in short order and the Black Trucker was rolling west again late that afternoon. Because of the kindness and trust shown him here, Friend always stood out in Dolphus’ estimation as one of America’s finest small towns -and it lived up to its name.

The Thirty Hour Days
yellow legal paper, handwritten, early 1928

Except for all the male passengers having to get out of the disabled yelloway Bus and push it the last mile through the snow into Cheyenne, Wyoming, the trip back to Colorado was uneventful. Dolphus quickly involved himself in a multitude of activities. He reentered College carrying an extra three hours weekly. He took private piano lessons from Dean Hale. He shouldered a number of responsibilities at St. John Baptist Church, including the presidency of the B.Y.P.U. He resumed the Monday night activities of the Colored Boy’s Industrial Club at South Junior High School. He resumed his 4 o’clock morning runs and cold water shower. He and a younger brother, Tandy, raced through the alleys of the business district in the new model A truck loading the trash and ashes from a large number of business establishments. He washed up, gulped breakfast, and half trotted to Colorado College, studying the subject matter for the day’s first course. At 2-pm he was back on the truck, cleaning ashes from back yard pits or basements of business establishments until six or six thirty p.m. Tandy usually helped from 4 p.m. on in the afternoons.

Late February and March were the trying months. Temperatures plummeted below zero some days and the trenchant winds blew the ashes so fiercely that they penetrated every pore of the skin. Upon reaching home the two boys would be caked in ashes from head to foot, except for small circles of brown skin that had been washed about the eyes by the tears that flowed constantly from the impact of cinders and over-sized bits of ashes that bombarded the eyes constantly.

It was 1928, the year Dolphus had targeted during high school days for making the Olympic Team. He had eaten too well and followed the no training routine for the more than two months he worked for Fred Harvey. He weighed in at 180-lbs, when he left the Windy City. He knew a crash training program would be required to round into shape. Smidgin by smidgin he increased the speed and distance of his morning runs. And he substituted a climb to the top of Pikes Peak for Church Attendance on Sunday mornings.

A National Championship
yellow legal paper, handwritten, 1928, about to leave for Boston

In the Colorado papers Dolphus’ marathon victory up staged Bobby Jones’ triumph in the British Open that occurred on the same weekend. As Dolphus hurried across campus near Palmer Hall the following Monday he encountered Jo Irish. The track coach extended his hand, congratulating Stroud on his marathon victory. Then he asked, feigning innocence, why the Black youth had not come out for track. Since Dolphus knew that both he and Irish were thinking of Irish’s refusal to issue him track equipment in his Freshman year, the young Stroud mumbled something about being too busy and, at Irish’s insistence, agreed to try for track the following Spring.

With his weight down to 135-lbs from the 180 he had brought back from Chicago, Dolphus won the National A.A.U. and Rocky Mountain Division Championship at 5000-meters and was runner-up in the 10,000 meter run within the space of three hours at the Denver University Stadium on the same afternoon. Victories in an event in the national A.A.U. meet qualified the winner for participation in the final trials for the Olympic Team at Harvard Stadium in Cambridge, Mass. In the case of Rocky Mountain Region Winners, the local A.A.U. Chapter announced that it would pay the way of such athletes to Cambridge and return. They reneged on this agreement in Dolphus’ case. He was the lone Rocky Mountain Black to win a crown, although Blacks from other locales scored victories. Among these were: DeHart Hubbard in the Broad jump, Phil Edwards in the half mile and Ed Gourdin in the high jump, Charlie Paddock, (a white) was America’s top sprinter then.

Since the Rocky Mountain Chapter of the AAU did not default on its promise to pay the expense of Dolphus’ trip to Massachusetts until two weeks before the Harvard trials he had no alternative plans. As he neared the 14,000 ft level on his climb up Pikes Peak a sudden ray of hope dawned. He would hitch hike to Boston. Perhaps he could still make it in time. He had saved $20. The distance was 2000 miles. He’d have to travel on a budget of one cent per mile.

The First Bath
yellow legal paper, handwritten, 1928, en route to Boston

After 600 miles of traversing the dusty, muddy, hot, cold, rainy, and windy one and two lane unpaved trail, known as the north 40 or Lincoln Highway of northeastern Colorado and the entire state of Nebraska, with a forty pound knapsack after abortive efforts to secure lodging or bathing accommodations in Big Springs, North Platte, and Grand island, and after the initial glamour and enthusiasm of the trip had been replaced by a dogged, lonely and apparently senseless determination to make it to Boston, even though it seemed impossible to arrive in time for the Olympic Trials, Dolphus felt he was far enough East and North to be able to take a shower bath at the Y.M.C.A. Dolphus communicated his desires to the desk attendant, explaining he would pay whatever fee was required for soap and towels. The attendant sent for the Executive Secretary. Once again Dolphus explained his need, showing references and news paper clippings to support his story. The secretary stated that it was not the “Y’s” policy to permit use of its facilities by Blacks. However, he would call the president of the Board of Directors and see if an exception could be made in this instance. After an hour’s delay and several phone calls later, the secretary was given the green light and Dolphus scored another first for his race – the first Black to take a shower bath in the Omaha, Nebraska, Y.M.C.A.

End of the Dream
yellow legal paper, handwritten, 1928, arrival in Boston

Penniless, tired, sleepy, hungry, and with badly blistered feet, Dolphus reached the Charles River and crossed over into Cambridge and Harvard University six hours before first call for the 5000 meter run. Logic precluded his having any chance to make the Olympic team. Nonetheless he was determined to compete, hoping from some miraculous aid from God to carry him to victory. Possibly two hours were consumed registering with the Olympic Committee, filling out forms that absolved everyone of any responsibility in case of accident or death resulting from the competition, being photographed, and being fitted with the official red, white, and blue competitor’s track suit. Another two hours was consumed visiting various ivy-covered campus buildings and glancing through old records in the Harvard Library. The final pre-race two hours was spent at the stadium, watching the early track and field events.

“First call for the 5000 meter run!’ Dolphus and five other runners began limbering up on the track. This was to be the culmination of all the early morning runs he had taken since Freshman High School days, of all those leg weary, lung searing climbs to the summit of Pikes Peak. Could he summon a supreme effort and accomplish the impossible. He reviewed the 2000 miles of agony he had endured in making it to Boston the endless jogging with that forty pound pack on his back, the days when he fasted to stay within his one cent per mile budget – and the ridicule he had been subjected to by classmates in Mr. Fowler’s printing class after his first effort to make the [Terror?] track team and his promise to them that he would make the Olympics.

“Last call for the 5000 meters.” The six runners toed their marks. With the sound of the starting gun the five white runners shot from their marks. Dolphus was ten yards behind before the first turn was reached. It would require more than twelve laps around the quarter-mile track to finish. After two laps Dolphus was 220 yds behind the leader. Spectators were laughing and booing as he passed the grand stand. At the end of the first mile Dolphus was almost a quarter mile behind Joey Ray, the leader, who had been America’s top miler during his college days and had now turned to the longer distance. Dolphus was staggering and experiencing flashes of lightheadedness. Knowing he could not last to the finish the dejected Black runner pulled off the track and fell to the turf to recuperate. He had let his parents down. He had failed the Rocky Mountain Section of the nation as their representative and he had failed Black people everywhere. Such were his thoughts as he lay on the ground.

“Bang!” the gun signaling the final lap attracted Dolphus’ attention to the runners. Joey Ray now had a substantial lead over the field. He was running smoothly and easily an obvious winner. Quickly it was over, medals presented and pictures taken. To Dolphus’ surprise Joey came immediately to where he sat on the ground. “I’m Joey Ray” he said, extending his hand. “How are you feeling?”

Taken aback by this interest in an unknown, impoverished, Black on the part of a white, world-renowned super-star, Dolphus stuttered out his name and the assurance that he was all right. Prying questions by Ray drew out the fact that Dolphus had no money, had no job, had no place to stay, knew no one in Boston, and hadn’t eaten for more than 24 hours. Scribbling something on a paper, Joey placed it in an envelope which he sealed and addressed to the Executive Secretary of the Boston Y.M.C.A. Dolphus was told to present it at the “Y” desk.

Thanking the great runner, and congratulating him on his victory Dolphus hastened from the field to comply with his instructions

At Last a Purpose
handwritten, autumn 1928 or spring 1929

Dr. Edith Bramhall, head of the Political Science Dept., influenced Dolphus to become a political science major. This decision was reached with a certain reluctance after weighing the pros and cons of his limited experiences and observations at that time. Dolphus preferred courses in which the answers were “yes or no” - mathematics and the exact sciences of chemistry and physics, next he liked courses involving exploration and the application of the principles discovered by the exact scientist - Geology all types of Engineering, Astronomy. He had never seen a negro functioning in any of these fields; consequently, he assumed that the only use he could make of such knowledge would be to teach it to Black Students in the Black schools of the South. Colorado College was eminently equipped for the social sciences but below average for the exact sciences other than mathematics. He had always desired to be a writer and political science might be of aid there. He had read some of Bertrand Russell who was the popular theorist in a comparatively new discipline - psychology as well as philosophy; and he had read Kent’s, “Great Game of Politics.” And, although he did not believe that the social sciences had generated a truly new idea since the “sermon on the mount” was delivered by Christ, he felt that scholastic excellence in the social sciences consisted of impressing, first one’s instructor and later the gullible masses with one’s ability to express old ideas in new or more dramatic terms, he felt capable of doing that, it was mostly new uses of unusual figures of speech at the propitious moment with the proper sounding board. His curriculum now would be top heavy with Politics, history, sociology, psychology, philosophy, English, Public Speaking. His electives would have to be in the mathematics and science fields.

Running was no longer an end of itself, Dolphus continued to take morning runs and weekend hikes up Pikes Peak, but these activities were now simply the means to a clear mind and a healthy, durable body. But the coaches at Colorado College and his fans in Colorado Springs did not choose to let the Negro runner drift into quiet obscurity, he was automatically entered into all track meets as the College’s mile and two mile participant even though afternoon work on the ash truck prevented him from attending practices. Then the business leaders arranged a special eight mile run through the streets of Colorado Springs between Dolphus and Brooks Renshaw, the Finnish runner who had beaten Paavo Nurmi in either the five or ten thousand meter run at the 1928 Olympics.* Dolphus welcomed the Renshaw meeting as a means of proving to himself what he might have done had he made it to Boston with less physical drain.

Dolphus broke fast in the Renshaw race. Thousands of people lined the streets along the route of the race. After sprinting about a half mile, Dolphus settled to a brisk running pace, never looking back for his opponent.

When he finished the eight miles Dolphus learned Renshaw had continually lost ground and dropped out of the race, exhausted, after four miles. While realizing that his victory was tainted by his acclimation to Colorado Spring’s 6000 ft altitude, Dolphus felt somewhat vindicated for his poor performance at the Harvard trials the previous year.

The Sunday morning following his conquest of Renshaw Dolphus decided to try for a speed record from the Cog Railroad Station at the Iron Springs Bldg. in Manitou to the Summit of Pikes Peak. The records he set that day have never been approached by another mountaineer – two hours and five minutes for the nine mile hike up, forty-eight minutes for the run down, and two hours and fifty-three minutes for the round-trip.

*Nurmi won the 10,000 meter race at the 1928 Olympics. He took silver in the 5,000, with Finnish runner Ville Ritola winning the gold. We can find no Olympic athlete at the 1920, 1924, or 1928 Olympics by the name of Brooks or Renshaw.

Dr McMurtry, Religion, Doubts
handwritten on letterhead, probably spring 1929, transcript states Dolphus was enrolled in “Introduction to Philosophy” that semester at Colorado College

Dr McMurtry, who served as religious Dean of Colorado College and taught some of the religious philosophy courses, was a broadly learned man. This, plus a grand personality, made him and the courses he taught very popular with the students. There were always more applications for his courses than could be accommodated. Dr McMurtry had studied all the World’s major religious and many of the minor ones. He, himself was a devout Christian. He never tried to impose his beliefs upon any student. He taught the Koran and the Talmud with equal intensity and equal time was given to Confucius and Christ. Something in the religious course started a flicker of doubt about some of the tenets of “Christianity” Dolphus had accepted, hither to, without question.

The first doubts began about some of the teachings of the Old Testament. The Genesis account of the Creation, The Garden of Eden and mankind’s expulsion therefrom, selection of the Jews as God’s chosen people, Jacob’s wrestling all night with the Angel, Noah’s construction and use of the Arc, The Tower of Babel and the effect its construction had on the World’s languages, the Parting of the Waters of the Red Sea to facilitate the escape of the Jews from Egypt, – these and other reason defying accounts were questioned.

Dr McMurtry, although conducting a lecture course, allowed time on three or four occasions each month, for informal question and answer sessions. Numerous doubts and varied interpretations of the same Biblical passages would be revealed in the discussions. Knowledge of the manner in which the Bible was compiled. (The centuries required to assemble it into one Book, the selection of the Book’s components, and the translation difficulties that had to be surmounted) augmented Dolphus’ doubts of its infallibility.

Once suspect Dolphus became aware of the subtle racism that existed in the interpretation of the Bible. Much was made of Noah’s curse on Ham and the implication was spread that Noah had cursed him to be Black, although the Bible did not say that. But the curse on Naman’s servant, who attempted to profit from his master’s miraculous cure from leprosy, did make him and his descendants white and the bearers of leprosy from thence forth yet this was skipped over with hardly a reference. Racial propaganda to the point of untruth was evident in the depiction of Christ on Sunday School Cards as a little blue eyed blond baby, clothed in immaculate white, in a beautiful clean setting surrounded by shepherds and wise men similarly attired; when in reality, the baby was brown or black, born in a filthy manure filled stable, surrounded by flies, maggots, and every kind of vermin, and clothed in garments made from sack cloth.

Dolphus felt that all Biblical evidence pointed to Christ’s being a Black or Brown man. As a descendant of Solomon and the Queen of Sheba he could hardly be otherwise. Solomon states in his Psalms that, “I am Black and Comely.” History records Sheba as a Black man. In one of the discussion periods that Dr McMurtry permitted from time to time, Dolphus brought up the question of Christ’s color. In the course of the rather heated arguments that followed, one of the foreign students from Sweden stated that all the early drawings and paintings of the Virgin Mary depicted her and her baby as black, and that one of the popes had the Sistine Chapel figures done over in White, thereby making the Church guilty of falsifying history for racist reasons.

The Divine Commission, “go ye unto all the World and preach the gospel to every creature assumed a new and not so noble dimension. It implied that the Christian has something that others lack, but need and that the Christian must go throughout the World as a missionary to bring this missing something to the rest of the people. Simple deduction brings this Commission down to , “I’m better than you and have come to try to bring you up nearer my level”

Dolphus received a good grade in the religion course. But at the end of the year his own beliefs were in shambles, the simple faith past years was dead and he had begun to look upon the emotional religious practices of Black Americans as one of the drawbacks that prevented their rising more rapidly in American society.

Perspective
standard-size paper, handwritten, 1931

At long last it was over. He had finished College. True, he had been unable to rent a tuxedo so that he could receive the AB degree on stage from the hands of Dr. Mierow.