Annie Louise Moore Jones was born and raised in Greenville South Carolina.
She attended Allen University in South Carolina where she met Sandy Evander Jones. She eventually married him and at her insistence primarily,the couple left South Carolina for Washington DC.
It was in Washington DC where Mr. Jones worked for years for the Census Bureau before getting into the real estate business. They had a child.. a daughter.
Part of the history of this country is medical experiments on black folks.Most folks only know about the Tuskegee Experiment,disguised as free government healthcare that intentionally infected black men with syphilis,but it goes back to Slavery Days. As the Rastaman say:Know your History. There would have to be a philosophy built that would hold one race superior and another inferior that the Emperor Haile Selassie and later Bob Marley would speak of. To build this philosophy,the medical establishment of the day had to play its role in creating it.
These practices continued long into the 20th Century
The story goes that it was another type of doctor's experiment that left Annie Louise Jones crippled for life.
The story goes that while it slowed her down it didn't stop her.
The story goes that she would tease her husband,telling him to be thankful she was crippled otherwise she'd be dragging him to some dance.
I know about these stories and more because Annie Louise Jones was my Grandmother.
When my folks divorced leaving Mom with three boys to raise,Annie Louise Jones,with the blessing of her husband,moved from Washington DC to Hartford Connecticut to help Mom raise us. One of the results of that move meant that every summer we'd pack up the station wagon and spend what would be wonderful summers in Washington DC..but those are other stories for another time.
Between my mom and her,she was the one you didn't want to cross. Being crippled was just an obstacle to overcome. Sometimes us Daniels boys thought the best way to escape our punishment was to simply outrun her,often times running up a fairly steep flight of stairs leading to our room. There,we would think we were safe,but like I said before,being crippled simply slowed her down but did not stop her. If the punishment warranted,she would get down on all four knees climb up those stairs,hold on to various handles leading to the boys room,and in doing so trapping us.
Spring and Summer were her favorite seasons. Summer because it meant she could be with her husband in the house they had purchased for themselves and spring because it meant the beginning of the baseball season.
Annie Louise Jones was an avid baseball fan.
The story goes the two things she most enjoyed doing growing up in Greenville South Carolina was smoking a corn cob pipe behind the barn with the boys and playing baseball with them.
These were segregated times and as Major League Baseball reflected the society at large, there was the Negro Leagues. Negro League teams often barnstormed from one city to the next. Greenville South Carolina was a destination for Negro League games and my grandmother often attended those games. Satchel Paige, Monte Irvin,Cool Papa Bell..she had seen them all and till the day of her death,she'd declare to anyone who would listen,that Josh Gibson was the greatest player of all time.
In the summertime,her idea of a hot date with my grandfather consisted of first banning my brothers and myself along with my mom from interrupting them on their front porch as they swung on their swing,feasting on watermelon while listening to Washington Senators baseball on WTOP radio.
Back in Connecticut,she would talk baseball with Mr.Clark,our next door neighbor. Mr. Clark was a Yankees fan. My grandmother hated the Yankees primarily because they were one of the last teams to integrate,but Mr Clark was the only one in the vicinity that knew as much about baseball as she did,so they'd get together to talk baseball and on occasion,listen to Yankee games on WINF radio.
My introduction to baseball came while I was in third grade as part of gym class. At my very first at bat,I hit the ball and ran to third base. This set me up for a lot of ridicule from my classmates. That at bat was the very last time the wood of the bat hit the ball the rest of the season. I was like the automatic strikeout leading to further ridicule from classmates,later turning into hostility.
In what was billed as the "Third Grade Championship Game" between My class,Miss Amato's class and Miss Canwell's class ,it became up to me to deliver the winning hit with the bases loaded and two outs.
I struck out again,forcing the gym teacher into bodyguard mode as kids from my class tried to throw a few punches at me and because there was talk that there would be a few kids after school ready to kick my ass because of my strikeout,he escorted me home.
It was then when my gym teacher encouraged Mom and my grandmother that maybe,if for nothing else avoiding the possibility of getting my ass kicked again that it would be a good thing for me to learn a little bit about baseball. My grandmother was thrilled. While it was going to be up to my mom to get a bat,glove and ball for me,my grandmother was going to be more than happy to watch and listen to baseball games with me.
In Connecticut,there were three teams that were easy to follow..there was the New York Yankees,perennial contenders and the team my grandmother hated. There was also the Boston Red Sox whose games on the radio were broadcast on the station Mom always listened to WTIC 1080. Mom wasn't much of a baseball fan,but with all her other favorite programming on that station,the radio dial never left 1080. New York Mets games were broadcast only on Saturdays and Sundays on Independent TV Channel 18,known mostly for being one of the first stations in the country to experiment with "Subscription TV" as well as carrying the bizarre rantings of Evangelist Dr.Gene Scott. That was good enough for me. I began following Mets games.
It didn't take long to discover that the New York Mets were not a very good baseball team. Their futility made them even easier to relate to. Their manager Casey Stengel provided comic relief despite losses and their owner Joan Payson would give Mets players hugs despite their futility. This introduction to baseball seemed much nicer than the one I experienced on the playing field. The Mets were my kind of team.
While my grandmother was happy I chose a National League team to like over an American League team,for the life of her she could not understand why I would like the Mets. They were losers. Because of Jackie Robinson,she liked the Dodgers but was put off by their moving from Brooklyn to Los Angeles. She didn't like the move of the New York Giants to San Francisco either,but the Giants signed Monte Irvin from the Negro League and besides having Willie Mays,had one of her favorite ballplayers,first baseman Willie McCovey. To her,the New York Mets were a poor substitute for National League baseball in New York.So much so that if I wasnt watching the game,she'd rather listen to a Yankee game with Mr.Clark. "At least they know how to win" she'd say. When the Mets would engage in a 10 game losing streak,lose a game 12-0 or blow a game she easily should have won,she'd give me this exasperated look while stating "How could you like this team?",At the same time,this was her grandson showing interest in the game she loved,so we saw our share of Mets games. She had to tell me to be quiet when for the first time I could recall,the Mets beat the San Francisco Giants. The hero of the game was an obscure utility player,Dan Napoleon whose pinch hit led to a come from behind Mets victory. When I finally calmed down,calmed down,she explained that loss wasnt too bad to take as Danny Napoleon was from a nearby South Carolina town.
My last baseball memory of my grandmother came in 1969,two years before her death. The New York Mets went from 100-1 odds to their first ever winning season leading to their first World Championship. She was happy for me that the Mets were winning for once but concerned that they'd find a way to blow it. She liked Tommie Agee,the Mets centerfielder,but when they reached the National League Championship Series,she reminded me that the Mets were facing the Atlanta Braves featuring the great Hank Aaron and when they got past them,she reminded me they were now facing the Baltimore Orioles featuring the great Frank Robinson.
I was in school listening to the 1969 World Series on my transistor radio. The Mets were on the verge of winning the World Series,helped my a miraculous catch by Tommie Agee. No wonder the 69 Mets were known as the Miracle Mets.
When the final out was recorded,crowning the Mets as World Champs,I was glad school was almost over. I had been restrained at school,but now I was going to go home where through the years,my reputation for making noise whenever the Mets did well. I would bang on the piano reciting a poem I wrote in 5th grade whenever outfielder Ron Swoboda would hit a home run
Ron Swoboda Give me a Soda
I'll take a Grape,
Ron Swoboda was a hero during the 69 Series prompting a revival of that old poem much to the dismay of the rest of the house. With the Mets as World Series Champs,the household was going to see a Mets celebration like they've never seen before.
That was before walking up to my front doorstep for meeting me at the door,holding herself up by the front handle of the door was my grandmother.
" I am happy that the Mets won and happy for you that the Mets won,but if you think you're coming into this house with that noise you have another thought coming!
That was Annie Louise Moore Jones..my grandmother
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