I guess every memoir has a point of origin,a beginning of sorts,so here's my beginning.
I was born January 4,1955 at Mt.Sinai Hospital in Hartford Connecticut. My parents were Dr.Evans H. Daniels Jr. and Helen Louise Jones Daniels. They owned a home in Hartford Connecticut's North End. I am the oldest of three boys. Evans Howard Daniels the Third and Austin Eugene Daniels. We called my brother Evans Howie growing up.
We lived on Cambridge Street. 15 Cambridge Street to be exact I still remember the neighbors on that street. There were the Mounds. Laurie and Carla. Donny,Gary and Joy. Next to them were the Hills. Our neighbors were Mr. and Mrs Clark and their daughter Phyllis. Mr.Clark was known for sitting on his front step,smoking a pipe while listening to Yankees baseball on his transistor radio. Then on the other side of 15 Cambridge St. were the Nash's and the Jackson household. Mr. Jackson was an older retired man. I don't know what he did while he worked,but it seemed like it had something to do with balls as he was always giving kids in the neighborhood baseballs and softballs. Next to the Jackson house were the Ford's. Mr. Ford ran a pharmacy.The Ford and James Pharmacy.His daughter Anita was a pal and classmate beginning at the Sherman Nursery School in nearby Bloomfield Connecticut. While they were around the corner from us and in reality on our neighboring street,I regarded the Davis and the Pickens as part of our street. Chris and Pete Davis were my best friends in the neighborhood,and their Dad,Allen Hodge Davis was a successful realtor and whose campaign for Hartford City Council was the first campaign I leafleted for. Mr.Pickens was a Professor who at one time taught at Morehouse College in Atlanta. The story is that his Dad was involved in the framing and imprisonment of Marcus Garvey.
Directly Across from 15 Cambridge Street were the Carrolls. Edgar Carroll at one point served on Hartford's Board of Education. Next to the Carrolls were the Stewarts, Mr. Stewart owned an auto repair garage.
Next to the Stewart's lived an elderly Italian lady we'd call Mrs.Mo Alley. Mrs. Mo Alley was the meanest person in the neighborhood. When I would see the images of kids in Birmingham Alabama circa 1963 being sprayed by Bull Connor's water hoses,it would remind me of what Mrs.Mo Alley would do to us when we'd try to retrieve baseballs that would land in her front yard. The alternative was Mrs Mo Alley keeping the baseballs that would land in her yard. Next to Mrs. Mo Alley was the Goldsteins. Mrs Mo Alley and the Goldsteins were the last white families in the neighborhood. The story goes,the others moved out shortly after my Dad and Mom moved in..
Most of my memories surrounding 15 Cambridge Street involve my Mom,my brothers and my grandmother. My grandmother came to live with us after Mom and Dad split up and in so doing guaranteed us summers in Washington DC so she could spend time with my grandfather. I shared a room with my two brothers.
15 Cambridge Street had a basement,a kitchen,a dining room,and living room. Upstairs were all the bedrooms and the bathroom. My grandmother's room was originally a rec room,and the television where the popular shows were Captain Kangaroo,Superman reruns,and the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite was still situated there.
The backyard was primarily the territory of my dog named Gyp. To this day I couldn't tell you what breed a dog he was. We all agreed he was a mutt. We'd tell people Gyp was a blend of German Shepherd and Collie,but his floppy ears and stub for a tail seemed to belie that story. When it came to being a watchdog,Gyp certainly had the fierceness that you might expect from a German Shepherd,but when it came to dealing with the Daniels family,his temperament was akin to the friendliest dog on the planet.
There was a plum tree and an apple tree in the backyard. I loved eating the plums. The apple tree never seemed to produce good apples although I remember once my grandmother making a nice apple pie from it. For me,the apple tree's main usefulness was having something to climb on.
There was also a swing set in the backyard. Perhaps I shouldn't say it was a swing set because it only had one swing to it. At one time there was an aluminum slide attached to it,however somehow that got twisted and dangerous,thus my grandfather during one of his many visits to Connecticut removed it.
There were two spots at 15 Cambridge St that could be viewed as my favorites in the house. One was the basement. No one else liked to go to the basement. Because no one else liked it was one of the primary reasons I liked it. It had dim lighting and had spider webs,but that didn't stop me from reading books in the basement..alone
The other was the swing. My brothers had other places in the neighborhood to play so the swing allowed me to ride high while living in my own world.
I listened to a lot of music at 15 Cambridge St. There was Beethoven,Brahms and music from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir from my mom's collection. Erroll Garner and Miles Davis from my dad's. My early favorite was an artist I sensed both of them liked-Harry Belafonte.
I would play Harry Belafonte's Calypso album over and over again. Then I would go on the swing and sing every song on the entire Calypso album in order from the first song on side one to the last song on side two.
I was to find out I wasn't as much in my own world as I imagined when I'd sing from the swing. Turns out Mom would hear me out on the swing and apparently liked what she heard.
Mom was active in several organizations and at any given time there would be people gathered at the house. It could be members from the NAACP or the Urban League. On other occasions it could be the North End branch of the Hartford Democratic Party or her Sorority,Alpha Kappa Alpha,noted for being the first black sorority. It could even be her bridge club.
In any case,on more than one occasion,Mom would deem it important to trot me out in front of her friends and colleagues in order for them to get a sample of those backyard concerts of mine.
They wouldn't get one.
I wouldn't out and out say no to my mom,that would result in unwanted punishment. I would just refuse to open my mouth.
I'm not certain where a certain degree of defiance comes from. Maybe it's inherent in every human being with some exercising it more than others. Could be hereditary..after all,my Dad beat huge odds going from the son of a sharecropper in East Texas to becoming a prominent Doctor in a prominent New England City. My mom and grandmother showed me pictures of my great grandmother who defied slavery.
Perhaps its all of it,but I wouldn't put past the realm of possibility,that a certain seed was planted in listening to the music of Harry Belafonte,a man from the West Indies and one who would through the years defy social norms,that would sprout in later life in listening to the music from a man from Jamaica,Bob Marley,one known for going his own way..
15 Cambridge Street had a basement,a kitchen,a dining room,and living room. Upstairs were all the bedrooms and the bathroom. My grandmother's room was originally a rec room,and the television where the popular shows were Captain Kangaroo,Superman reruns,and the CBS Evening News with Walter Cronkite was still situated there.
The backyard was primarily the territory of my dog named Gyp. To this day I couldn't tell you what breed a dog he was. We all agreed he was a mutt. We'd tell people Gyp was a blend of German Shepherd and Collie,but his floppy ears and stub for a tail seemed to belie that story. When it came to being a watchdog,Gyp certainly had the fierceness that you might expect from a German Shepherd,but when it came to dealing with the Daniels family,his temperament was akin to the friendliest dog on the planet.
There was a plum tree and an apple tree in the backyard. I loved eating the plums. The apple tree never seemed to produce good apples although I remember once my grandmother making a nice apple pie from it. For me,the apple tree's main usefulness was having something to climb on.
There was also a swing set in the backyard. Perhaps I shouldn't say it was a swing set because it only had one swing to it. At one time there was an aluminum slide attached to it,however somehow that got twisted and dangerous,thus my grandfather during one of his many visits to Connecticut removed it.
There were two spots at 15 Cambridge St that could be viewed as my favorites in the house. One was the basement. No one else liked to go to the basement. Because no one else liked it was one of the primary reasons I liked it. It had dim lighting and had spider webs,but that didn't stop me from reading books in the basement..alone
The other was the swing. My brothers had other places in the neighborhood to play so the swing allowed me to ride high while living in my own world.
I listened to a lot of music at 15 Cambridge St. There was Beethoven,Brahms and music from the Mormon Tabernacle Choir from my mom's collection. Erroll Garner and Miles Davis from my dad's. My early favorite was an artist I sensed both of them liked-Harry Belafonte.
I would play Harry Belafonte's Calypso album over and over again. Then I would go on the swing and sing every song on the entire Calypso album in order from the first song on side one to the last song on side two.
I was to find out I wasn't as much in my own world as I imagined when I'd sing from the swing. Turns out Mom would hear me out on the swing and apparently liked what she heard.
Mom was active in several organizations and at any given time there would be people gathered at the house. It could be members from the NAACP or the Urban League. On other occasions it could be the North End branch of the Hartford Democratic Party or her Sorority,Alpha Kappa Alpha,noted for being the first black sorority. It could even be her bridge club.
In any case,on more than one occasion,Mom would deem it important to trot me out in front of her friends and colleagues in order for them to get a sample of those backyard concerts of mine.
They wouldn't get one.
I wouldn't out and out say no to my mom,that would result in unwanted punishment. I would just refuse to open my mouth.
I'm not certain where a certain degree of defiance comes from. Maybe it's inherent in every human being with some exercising it more than others. Could be hereditary..after all,my Dad beat huge odds going from the son of a sharecropper in East Texas to becoming a prominent Doctor in a prominent New England City. My mom and grandmother showed me pictures of my great grandmother who defied slavery.
Perhaps its all of it,but I wouldn't put past the realm of possibility,that a certain seed was planted in listening to the music of Harry Belafonte,a man from the West Indies and one who would through the years defy social norms,that would sprout in later life in listening to the music from a man from Jamaica,Bob Marley,one known for going his own way..
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