Non-anticipated follow up to “Random Acts of Blindness” (First appeared in Feb 2021 for Woodward Post at Indian Springs)
Back in 2019, I recall writing an article for Indian Springs’ Woodward Post. I was in the middle of my 7th year teaching, and I was interested in really highlighting little-known sheroes in the run up to Black History Month. Ironically, it seemed as though I always ended up covering the idea of Advancement every November. Specifically, one of my courses covering African American Literature as it relates to the earlier Civil Rights movements was conducting independent research, preparing for a classroom debate exploring different ideological theories of attaining equity during the turn of the century. As I reflect on that article I wrote two years ago for the Woodward post, one regret that I have is that I wasn’t sure if my audience really understood my purpose for that article: to celebrate the underdog, to appreciate the undervalued, to shed light upon those personal and public people who fight battles behind closed doors so that their great-great-great grandchildren could be seen as upstanding, proud, contributing members to society. I also recalled the research and little known gems about George Washington Carver. Surprisingly enough, it was during a classroom reading lesson on Maya Angelou that I became aware of Carver’s domestic career, which was instrumental in providing him the capitol needed for tuition, supplies, and even survival necessities of food and shelter. Known for his advancements with the peanut, but perhaps, most importantly, not much is ever really discussed concerning his background and his life experiences prior to the world learning of his great scientific achievements.
Mr. Carver was a bootblack, a lowly job in both the metaphorical and physical sense, yet somehow he remained steadfast in his attempt to leverage his skillset in hardwork and grit as a means of obtaining more skills! Born a slave, kidnapped during the Civil War, and returned right back to bandage, his former ‘owners’ became his benefactors, who instilled within the young Carver the incredible, intrinsic values for hard work, dedication, and education. Rejected by his first collegiate application because of racism (initially, those admission officers did not know he was a black man), he could have easily returned to a life of, what we would consider, complacency. In the wake of that initial rejection, he applied to another school, and the rest is a history rich enough for you to explore independently! In the shadow of this amazing accomplishment, one must remain leery of the sneaky attack of heroic individualism, and only credit Carver for HIS efforts and HIS accomplishments. This pathway to enlightenment has been carved of communal craters, equally important, although non-identical in size or depth. So, even if this individual had done a whole lot of nothing, or obtained great notoriety by accomplishing something great and measurable, his dreams were made manifest by both public and private contributions from his friends, family, and faithful mentors. His progress, for all intents and purposes, were cumulative.
In 2006, I brought a group of my peers to see, yes see, and listen to the magnificent stories that Maya Angelou possessed. Hearing those anecdotes firsthand gave me such joy, it opened my mind to even more possibilities because even during her own grade school graduation, someone told her that she had amazing potential if she wanted to become a janitor or general housekeeper instead of a journalist and Nobel Prize Winner! So many African Americans can share in their experiences being aware of external expectations that, oftentimes, demeaned service industry approaches and blue collar careers. They pass these stories orally at dinner tables, church functions, front porches, principles offices, and 3 hour drives to Tennessee (That was on-purpose). These are the lessons that weave our lives together. My uncle, Walker Turner Jr., reminded me of how my grandfather, his namesake, practically helped pioneer an up and coming neighborhood on the west side of Birmingham. During the 60s, Walker Turner Sr. and my grandmother, Edna Turner moved their young family into a freshly built house. Only God knows how they demonstrated affordable income with salaries constructed on housekeeping, gardening, and sewing for affluent families in a part of town considered, Over The Mountain, which consisted of Homewood, Vestavia, Mountain Brook, and other burgeoning areas of unincorporated Jefferson and Shelby County, such as Indian Springs. I can only imagine what types of sacrificing, scrimping, and savings this took for them to accomplish this feat. In fact, I was also present for many of those re-runs of The Greatest Hits, such as “The Trap Door” in the Sharecroppers’ warehouse. Likewise, Dr. Angelou’s parents were also sharecroppers. We all build upon the platforms we’ve inherited from our ancestors. Two generations later, I’m a faculty member at this very over-the-mountain institution, in a space where my ancestors toiled at menial jobs-for less than minimum wages, and received meniscal amounts of respect.
I didn’t get here alone, and neither did this school. Walker Turner Sr. had been born in 1918, only 10 years prior to Dr. Angelou. I’m sure there were countless stories of racism-defying resiliency shared with my uncles, aunts, and my father. Those narratives published, promoted, and proliferated through oral and written history became part of the mythical ethos of resiliency-the same resiliency that exists within our own family members. In 2023, I prepared to take the entire group of 9th graders to Sloss Furnaces. Most of the students weren’t even born when my peers and I visited with Auntie Angelou. As I prepared that week, I spoke to my Grandmother, whom I have written so much about. She reminded me of the fact that my beloved Grandfather retired from TCI, another major coal mining company in Birmingham, prior to beginning his gardening gigs Over-The-Mountain. By the time Birmingham became an actual incorporated city in 1871, Stimpson Harvey Woodward, progenitor of the Alabama Woodward family that founded Woodward Iron Company, had already acquired thousands acres of prime Pig Iron land in the local area. As one of the leaders of the iron industry in the area for almost 100 years, Sloss Furnaces was a close second. The eerie part of all of this is the fact that Grandaddy Stimpson took his son, Joseph to Birmingham, to survey his recent purchases, he was laying the foundation for the work that would ensue only after his death. His legacy and his family lineage became commingled with the land he “pioneered” although it was his sons that would erect the first buildings of Woodward Iron Co. In other words, he laid the foundation with resources, provided the structural direction, and finally gave his sons the emotional inspiration to complete their father’s legacy years after he transitioned. William H Woodward, Harvey Woodward’s father, did not remain in the iron and coal industry long. He diversified his portfolio, venturing into architecture, realestate, and other investment ventures. His estate was so lucrative, Harvey G Woodward’s wealth (his only son) was nearly unmatched. Perhaps Harvey G. Woodward was a product of the times, and his progressive educational ideals were oftentimes skewed by the backwards thinking of the racist ideology that persisted in Alabama in the early 1900s. Nevertheless, the tangible and intangibles left by his grandfather were foundational to his success. Therefore, when Indian Springs became incorporated in 1952, it was the generosity of Harvey’s final will and testament that purchased the land our buildings currency sit on.
My reflection of these ideas are not entirely unique. In fact, many African-American families in the South toiled their lives away working to advance the wealth status of someone in a more powerful position. More often than not, racist and classist policies trampled their dreams before the ideas were ever awakened. However, some, like my grandfather and grandmother, with limited foundational resources, still provided a guidepost for success. When William Woodward sold one of his businesses for $1,000,000 in 1910, my grandfather wasn’t even born yet! Still, Walker’s greatness will always be a function of his steadfastness, his earnestness, and his honesty-all qualities that he would pass along to the next generation of graduates such as my parents and me. Technology has allowed me the ability to discover these connections to new and innovative parallels that remind us all of our purpose. One internet search can lead to countless ways to inform ourselves of the joyous triumphs of others. These are not random acts, but are inspired directly or indirectly by the greatness of our peers and ancestors. Perhaps it is a matter of perception. We do not live in vacuums now, and neither did our foremothers. Yes, my grandfather worked in a mineshaft that ultimately provided material wealth for strangers that I would probably never know. However, it is imperative we do our own digging, and conduct our own research on our own families to find those hidden gems or recall those forgotten stories of resiliency. If YOU CAN SEE GREATNESS, YOU CAN BE GREATNESS. Be it a celebration of exceptional icons as well as regular black folk like myself and my grandfather, I bet you can also shed light upon the simplicit values of steadfastness, earnestness, and honesty. Although they might not shine as bright as diamonds, the iron ore, coal, and blood colored mountains of Middle Alabama have provided great foundational footholes for us all. Thank you for celebrating with me!
The Mire 