Category Archives: Biography

African American Artisans: William W. Smith


By Paula R. Stiles


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William W. Smith (1862-1937) was one of the first African-American architects in the United States and the first in Charlotte, NC. His career demonstrates the difficulties faced by free African American contractors and architects following the Civil War and Recontruction, as well as the difficulties of survival of early African American architecture. Though Smith was born in 1862, all of his known career is encompassed by the Segregation period and is heavily influenced by the cultural impositions made on architecture by segregation laws that forced blacks and whites to live, worship and do business in separate spheres.

He is also a good example of a tradesman who crossed over to designing buildings in addition to building them. Part of what may have helped him further his career as a trade mason and contractor was that he was a local leader of the African American community and a member of Prince Hall Freemasonry as part of the Paul Drayton Lodge # 7. An early branch of Freemasonry founded in Boston by free black Prince Hall in the late 18th century, when white lodges refused to take in African Americans, Prince Hall Freemasonry was well-established in North Carolina by the middle of the 19th century. Smith was apparently a devoted lifelong member. The three major interests that come through in his architecture are church (the Grace African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, which he built), education (Livingston College, for which he taught, and also built, repaired and designed several buildings), and the Masonic lodge.

Smith most likely began life as a slave, since he was born during the Civil War in Mecklenburg County. His father, Robert C. Smith, was born in 1831 and died when Smith was around fourteen years old. William married his wife Keziah E. Eggleston (1860-1925), who was from South Carolina, in 1877. He later married a woman named Mary, who eventually survived him. While he had no children of his own, he was survived by a stepson, Arthur Anderson. All evidence indicates he never left Mecklenburg County and most of his known work, particularly after 1910, was in Charlotte.

Little is known about his early life or career. He does not appear to have had the formal education of the first professionally trained African American architect in the U.S., younger contemporary and fellow North Carolinian Robert Robinson Taylor (1868-1942), who came from Wilmington. Instead, he apprenticed in the trades. Previous architects John Merrick and Henry Beard Delaney came from out of state or had some white ancestry, indicating that architecture had not been accessible as a career to most local African American tradesmen up to that point.

Smith does not appear in records until 1886, when he shows up as one of the founders of the Grace African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church (a branch of Methodism that dated to around the beginning of the 19th century) in Charlotte that year, along with his wife Keziah. Though Smith did not design the church (it was designed by Hayden, Wheeler, and Schwend, who normally designed courthouses, along an auditorium plan), his later style is illuminated in the church’s final appearance. He incorporated both Gothic (the crenellated towers) and Classical (columns and pilasters) elements into the final design, working in brick, marble, ironwork, and even oak (for the interior). He was also instrumental in getting it built, agreeing to supply the materials and labor if the congregation raised money for it.

Smith’s support for his congregation extended even further to designing and building a sanctuary for the church in 1902 (the original architects of the church having disbanded a few years before). In the 1890s, he began to appear as a brick mason in the Charlotte City Directory. He did not start to be reported as an architect until the turn of the century. Though he had no formal education, he was not self-taught, nor did he invent the African American tradition of masonry in Charlotte wholesale. He apprenticed with William Houser, a noted local bricklayer in Charlotte’s uptown Second Ward, known as Brooklyn. Brooklyn was a relatively self-contained haven for African Americans in the city as Segregation took hold. It included many African American businesses and was a symbol of African American pride in Charlotte.

While Charlotte rapidly expanded following the Civil War, African Americans like Houser and his protege dominated the masonry field in the industry. Smith even taught bricklaying at African American-founded Livingston College in Salisbury in the early part of the 20th century. Livingston College, which began existence as Zion Wesley Institute in Concord in 1879 (moving to Salisbury in 1882), was the first A.M.E. Zion school in the state and an early example of a college founded and controlled by African Americans. Bishop James W. Hood, Joseph C. Price (who died in 1893), and William Henry Goler (who succeeded him in and retired in 1917) were all early leaders of the college.

A.M.E. Zion’s desire to bring in African American recruits and help support the leadership of the African American community led to a name change in 1885. It was in commemoration of the famous missionary explorer in Africa, Dr. David Livingston, who had died in what is now Zambia in 1873. Livingston was an early, notable example of a European who was sympathetic and respectful toward Africans: a good example of A.M.E. Zion’s goals.

After building the church, Smith became closely involved in A.M.E. Zion’s other great local endeavor, Livingston College. His first project as an architect was probably the restoration of Ballard Hall in 1905 on the Livingston College campus. The next year, he designed Hood Hall. He also designed Goler Hall. Both were named after the college’s early presidents.

Smith also designed several business buildings downtown in Charlotte. He was the architect for the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Publishing House (1911), the Afro-American Mutual Insurance Company building (1911), and the now-famous Mecklenburg Investment Company Building (1922). All were in the same general vicinity around South Brevard and 3rd Street (close to the Grace African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church), though only the Mecklenburg Investment Company Building now survives. The other two, like many African American buildings in the U.S., fell victim to the urban planning movement in the 1950s and 1960s, which disproportionately targeted poorer neighborhoods for renovation and destruction of older buildings deemed obsolete. Smith also designed his own family mausoleum, which still stands in Pinewood Cemetery, as well as one for a local family, Jones. This is the only known personal structure of his surviving, though the Mecklenburg Investment Company Building is generally regarded as his master work.

Smith’s style was unique and he went to great lengths to demonstrate the versatility of brick as a building material. Though he used other materials with equal skill, brickwork was his signature. He also taught his style at Livingstone College, to the point that students created the bricks used in the projects he designed and restored there. He was especially fond of geometric (particularly diamond-shaped), multicolored designs that resembled Beaux Arts, or 15th century, yellow-monochrome, Mudejar brickwork in Spain, but his main influences were Gothic and a sort of vernacular-flavored Richardsonian Romanesque. His buildings had a square solidity and simplicity that contrasted with his ornate and colorful brickwork. His church (which was not entirely his own design) also had Gothic Revival and Classical elements, including a large bell tower.

Smith was so well-respected locally that even white-owned newspapers of the area acknowledged his death in 1937. A.M.E. Zion wrote a eulogy for him in its newsletter, as he was a great success for the denomination. Smith was a signal example of the self-reliant African American businessman ideal that both African American leaders and sympathetic white groups like A.M.E. Zion promoted after the Civil War and during the early years of Segregation (1900-1939). Like his contemporary Booker T. Washington, Smith promoted the ideals of African American education and community involvement. He created a variety of still-iconic structures and was one of the small group of African American architects in the United States in the early 20th century. By all surface standards, he was a great success, both in individual terms and for his community.

But Smith’s successes obscured his precarious and isolated situation as a prominent African American architect during the Segregation period. The works he did were all on African American-related projects. Except for the business buildings, they were all related to his church and denomination. The college was African American. The business buildings themselves were for African American businesses.

Though he is famous in Charlotte and also had a significant influence on the A.M.E. Zion denomination, Smith does not appear in most architectural biographies or those of famous North Carolinians. He does not even appear in most African American biographical dictionaries, perhaps because they tend to have a strong focus on entertainment and sports. Outside of Charlotte and Mecklenburg County, he is almost unknown, while contemporary architects who contributed far less have more fame. It is difficult to perceive this as not related directly to Segregation.

Smith’s entire community operated in the same relative obscurity. The Mecklenburg Investment Company Building was commissioned by several African American businesses in the first place because no whites would let them rent their buildings. The African American business community desperately needed office space, so these businesses pooled their money and commissioned the only African American architect in the area to build one for them. A demonstration of how cramped for space was that community in Charlotte, despite their industry and rapid expansion, was that these buildings housed several businesses and different concerns at once.

One building also housed a Prince Hall lodge in addition to African American businesses. As Smith’s religious devotion came out in his work at his church and Livingston College, his devotion to Freemasonry came out in his work on these office buildings. Smith and his community’s world was constrained, a safe space that was nonetheless small, with the church and the office buildings built close to each other. Their proximity also reflects the deep devotion to religion that permeated even secular concerns in turn-of-the-century African American North Carolina.

This constraint was probably not all voluntary. Smith was limited to work in his own community and could not take commissions from white clients. The more visible and lucrative contracts of the white community were not open to him as an architect (though he might work on them as a bricklayer).

In light of how Smith’s surviving work, even that which he did not design, was so focused on the African American community, it is also possible that he chose to concentrate on building for his own community to the exclusion of personal financial advancement through doing construction jobs for the white community. Smith’s powerful and colorful buildings reflect a great deal of pride in his own considerable skill in masonry and ability to parlay that skill into designing entire buildings. His choice of projects also shows a great deal of pride in his community. But their light was largely kept under the bushel of Segregation.


Bibliography

Catherine W. Bishir. North Carolina Architecture. University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill: 1990.

Catherine W. Bishir and Michael T. Southern. A Guide to the Historical Architecture of Piedmont North Carolina. University of North Carolina Press, Chapel Hill: 2003.

Jeffrey B. Leak. “Memories of Brooklyn: A black man’s search for the ‘warmth of other suns’ leads him back to his Southern roots,” Charlotte Magazine (August 27, 2014).

North Carolina Architects and Builders: A Biographical Dictionary, Smith, William W.

What is the A.M.E. Zion Church?” Greater Centennial A.M.E. Zion Church.

Pioneering Black Architects in North Carolina,” North Carolina Modernist Houses.

William W. Smith,” Lost Charlotte: The Queen City of the South’s Past Revisited.


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Unusual History: Urraca, Badass Queen of Castile


By Paula R. Stiles


Even a cursory delve into the Middle Ages brings up queenly badassery along the lines of a Daenerys Stormborn and Cersei Lannister from Game of Thrones, but some of these tough medieval queens are less well-known than others. Urraca (c.1079-1226), first ruling queen of Castile, León, Galicia, and Portugal in Spain, is one of them.

UrracaRegina_TumboA
                              Queen Urraca

Urraca’s reign of badassery didn’t start out in roaring form. Her father Alfonso, seeking more northern alliances than his ancestors, married her off to a French adventurer named Raymond de Bourgogne (c.1065-1107) when she was about eight. By age fourteen (when she had her first miscarriage), the marriage had been consummated. Her husband was either nine or fourteen years older than she. Urraca then found herself engaged in a grueling series of pregnancies that resulted in her standing at her husband’s bier in 1107, not yet 30, with a daughter Sancha and a son Alfonso.

Daddy Dearest betrothed her to his main rival Alfonso el Batallador (the Battler), King of Aragon, a year later. Yes, Spain had a lot of Alfonsos in power during the Middle Ages.

Her father’s decision was prompted by the death of his illegitimate son (by a Muslim noblewoman) and designated heir, Sancho, in 1108, and by the demands of at least some of his nobles. As with the first marriage of Urraca’s younger and more famous contemporary Eleanor of Aquitaine, Urraca’s father and his nobles apparently felt his daughter couldn’t handle the job as a reigning queen, despite her already edging into the medieval version of early middle age and having a legitimate and healthy heir in her own son, who was a toddler. And as with Eleanor’s marriage, Daddy Dearest’s attempt to bolster his daughter’s position via bringing a man in to do the job just created extra problems for the realm and the female ruler who was quite capable of running it on her own.

It’s a first sign of greatness in a woman who, to that point, had been little more than a broodmare that Urraca decided to go ahead with the marriage, even after her father died suddenly in 1109. She did this, despite voicing repeated misgivings to her father, because she apparently agreed that the marriage was a political necessity to keep her older and ambitiously scheming, illegitimate half-sister Teresa and Teresa’s husband Henry, left in charge of Portugal, from seeking independence. Unfortunately, her misgivings turned out to be right and Urraca’s life soon began to resemble a particularly juicy medieval telenovela.

Though he looked great on paper – and great on the battlefield – El Batallador (c.1073-1134) was severely lacking as a husband. He reportedly disliked women and greatly preferred the company of men. Though he was six years older than Urraca, it was his first (and only) marriage. He had no mistresses and later Muslim historian Ibn al-Athir (1166-1234) remarked that he didn’t even sleep with female war captives (a very common practice of the time). No mention is made of his dallying with any young boys either, so there’s that, but whether he was gay, asexual or sterile, he had no known children of any kind.

It’s often stated how important bearing children was to a queen’s security and power base, but having an heir was equally important to a king. Establishing your dynasty was a crucial part of cementing your reign. My friend Silvia Moreno-Garcia, who has a strong interest in the history of Tudor England, has often remarked that Henry VIII’s queens were no passive victims. They had their own power bases, hence why noble families vied to profer the next woman in line and so many of these candidates were strong and smart (with the young and unready Catherine Howard a disastrously instructive exception). How much more so a queen ruling suo jure, by blood not marriage, like Urraca, who also not only had a son but a daughter who could rule after her. Indeed, as Urraca’s son ruled over the State part of his mother’s realm, her daughter Sancha came to rule over the Church portion as a very powerful, unmarried infanta. Even her illegitimate children married well.

During a monarch’s lifetime, even minor (underage) heirs, like Urraca’s son, Alfonso Raimundez, had power bases formed around them, full of court intrigue, long before they came of age. For example, Eleanor’s restless sons all rebelled against their father, Henry II of England, at some point. Eleanor herself was imprisoned for years because she fomented the revolt against their father as part of her ongoing conflict over Henry’s tyrannical attempts to coopt her realm of Aquitaine into his own. She ended up choosing her own heir, Richard, who also eventually became Henry’s heir due to a process of attrition over the years. She also ended up outliving Henry.

In Alfonso Raimundez’s case, the main court intriguer was the oily Bishop Diego Gelmirez of Santiago de Compostela, who eventually grew so wealthy and ambitious that the Pope himself slapped him down in 1124. Whoever controlled the child heir controlled the current monarch, though Urraca would soon close this loophole quite firmly. Urraca’s heir and her second husband’s lack of one showed her strength versus his weakness.

Alfonso Batallador also seemed to lack any tact whatsoever. What he gained on the battlefield he quickly lost to his soon-to-be-ex-wife because she was every bit as skilled a diplomat as he was a warrior. In the short term, the marriage itself had the opposite effect intended, since Alfonso Batallador made his intentions to dominate Urraca’s realm of Castile, León and Galicia in favor of his home kingdom of Aragon very clear. That just gave Teresa and her husband the excuse to break away for real.

Theresa of Portugal
              Teresa of Portugal

Later historians have lamented the “chance” lost during Urraca’s reign to unite Spain under one realm, but those historians lived four or five centuries later, in a period after Spanish kings had brutally united the various kingdoms through force and considerable bloodshed. Urraca and Alfonso lived during a time when the united Muslim kingdom of Al-Andalus had just broken up into numerous — though still-powerful — taifa kingdoms, and the previously tiny Christian kingdoms were rapidly expanding by picking them off. Urraca’s own grandfather had followed the Carolingian custom of dividing his kingdom among his children. It was only the death of her uncle, the elder son, that had given her father the chance to put the recently conquered Christian realms of her grandfather under one heir. So, it seems likely that uniting into a new Christian version of Al-Andalus was actually the last thing Urraca’s subjects had in mind, especially if they weren’t the ones in charge of it.

Alfonso Batallador may have been the only one shocked when the marriage broke down in 1110. Even so, Urraca next did some very surprising things for a medieval queen. For one, when she sought a divorce (technically, an annulment based on consanguinity) from the Pope, she did so partly based on the accusation that her new husband was beating her. At this time, it was perfectly acceptable for husbands to beat their wives and even ruling queens were expected to obey their husbands as their lords. Urraca’s accusation was startling in the assumption that her husband had no right to beat her, to the point that this was grounds for divorce. What was even more startling was that she was able to persuade the Pope to give her the divorce that same year. Popes were pretty accommodating about royal annulments in the 11th and early 12th centuries, but even so, that may have been a speed record.

And then, on top of that, she took a lover, Gómez González. While still legally married to Alfonso. And had a son with him.

Alfonso remained in denial for four more years, deciding in the meantime to take back “his” kingdom by force. There were several things in his favor. He was arguably the greatest Christian warrior of his generation and easily beat Urraca’s forces on the battlefield, even once putting her under siege at Astorga, León in 1112. Meanwhile, her lover was killed in the Battle of Candespina against her husband and her brother-in-law in 1111 (she promptly took another, his cousin Pedro González de Lara, and had at least two children out of wedlock with him). The Leonese nobility also was split into four factions. One was with the Queen. One was with her son, but sought to usurp her as his regent. One was with the King of Aragon. And one was helping Teresa and her husband break off to become the first Countess and Count of Portugal.

Urraca was able to fend off her older half-sister (who began to style herself Queen after being widowed in 1112), then defeated and forced her to re-swear fealty in 1121, temporarily reuniting all of their patrimony until after her death. Also, when the opportunity presented itself after Bishop Gelmírez fled the Battle of Viadangos in 1111 with young Alfonso Raimundez, seeking refuge with the boy’s mother, Urraca got full custody over her son. She retained control over young Alfonso (who was 20 before he became King) until her death, even staving off any possible rebellions such as the one Teresa’s son later employed to depose his mother in 1128. Meanwhile, she gained back in diplomacy what her ex had won in battle. Eventually, in 1114, Alfonso Batallador was forced to concede defeat and withdraw. Urraca spent the rest of her reign consolidating her kingdom against all comers Christian and Muslim, in preparation for turning it over to her son, before she died suddenly, probably in childbirth, at the age of 45.

The contemporary chronicle Historia Compostelana acknowledges Urraca’s intelligence and prudence, while sourly criticizing her as a “Jezebel” for her lovers and taking potshots at her fitness to rule solely due to her gender. Early Modern writers like Jerónimo Zurita y Castro (1512-1580) and Enrique Flórez (1701-1773) were more vicious, referring to her as Urraca the Reckless (la Temeraria) and writing lurid scenes (which may never have occurred) in which she was attacked and half-stripped during a negotiation-gone-wrong and a peasant revolt. It’s more likely that the peasants, for the most part, quite liked her, since she brought them peace and independence from Aragon. In addition, she had a greater reputation for showing mercy than her ex-husband, stemming from an incident early in their marriage when Alfonso Batallador executed some rebels Urraca wished to pardon.

In light of her many pregnancies and political use of sexual liaisons, there seems little doubt Urraca liked sex quite a bit. It also seems that she saw no reason not to use sex and sexual alliances as a weapon, just like her father, seeing as how Daddy Dearest was married five times and had at least two mistresses. She appears to have simply taken the same prerogatives that any king of her time would have done.

What’s interesting (and an indication of how powerful and skillful a ruler she truly must have been) is that she was able to do this, just like a king, to strengthen her rule, rather than be forced to live in celibate widowhood to avoid harming her and her son’s power base. For example, her two known lovers were both unsuccessful suitors for her hand before her father betrothed her to Alfonso Batallador. In addition, they were rivals against him along the border with Aragon, so she was able to exploit their natural animosity toward her second husband in her favor. It’s not just that Urraca didn’t care what a few cranky old monks and priests said about her. It’s that she was able to turn that scarlet reputation into a political advantage and make strong allies out of it. Having children with these men only cemented those alliances further.

It’s also interesting that the attraction she held for men probably had nothing to do with her looks and everything to do with her being Queen. We have no surviving description of her appearance and when she was married off the first time, she was very young. The one near-contemporary (a century later) portrait of her from the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela very interestingly portrays her with medium-brown skin (or even slate gray in another photograph). Urraca’s father and son are also portrayed in the same illuminated document as dark-skinned. This supports the idea that her father’s marrying her to Raymond counteracted centuries of marrying locally (and his liaison with a Muslim princess that resulted in a male heir), which could well have also meant marrying into Andalusian nobility.

Church_of_Fontevraud_Abbey_Eleanor_of_Aquitaine_effigy
                                          Eleanor of Aquitaine

 

Still, it is a surprise in medieval iconography, where female nobility to the north in this period were portrayed as very pale (even Teresa gets this treatment in a surviving illumination). Younger contemporary Eleanor is also portrayed in effigy on her tomb as having medium-brown skin, as well as being tall and wide-hipped. Possibly, this was an artistic convention of the time applied to women from Southwestern Europe, even though noblewomen in general were not expected to go out in the sun and pale skin was prized in other parts of the region.

It’s one more way in which Urraca stands out as nothing like the traditional 19th century image of the dippy, passive Gibson-haired girl who just can’t rule without a strong knight by her side. Urraca didn’t need any man to dominate her and she spent most of the latter half of her life ensuring that no man ever would again.


Further Reading

Pallares Méndez, María del Carmen and Portela, Ermelindo. La Reina Urraca. Nerea, 2006.

Reilly, Bernard F. The Kingdom of León-Castilla under Queen Urraca, 1109-1126. Princeton University Press, 1982.


Interested in more Spanish medieval history? Check out my book, Templar Convivencia: Templars and Their Associates in 12th and 13th Century Iberia.



Telling Stories


By Jim Lee


I have recently published a book of 21 short stories entitled The Haze of Memory. These stories, mostly fiction but also a smattering of non-fiction, are based on events I have experienced and people I have encountered throughout my almost six decades of life on this earth. In the foreword, I wrote that although I put “teacher” as my occupation on my tax forms, I consider myself a writer. But in the final editing of the book, I almost changed that line. And now I am asking out loud (and if you write on a frequent basis, you may ask as well), am I a writer or a storyteller?

There is a difference between the two. Storytellers do not necessarily create the stories they tell. They often retell stories that are important to the culture or the history of a group they identify with. Every family has that one person who is the repository of family lore and you can find that individual surrounded at Christmas or reunions with a rapt audience. I serve that role for my daughter and she will often ask me to relate the events of her adoption or how her granny got stopped for running a red light to avoid dumping a lemon pie on the floor of her car.

Writers, on the other hand, are more concerned with universal themes, interesting characters, or the significance of a setting. Much modern literary fiction has even disposed of some traditional elements of storytelling completely or deconstructs them to such an extent that the writing becomes to literature what a cubist painting is to modern art: The elements are present, but they are disproportionate or displaced. Don’t get me wrong. I can appreciate what the writer is trying to do, but I don’t enjoy it. I only go to an art museum once every couple of years and I can appreciate the pieces I observe there; the art I have in my home, however, is what I enjoy. In the same way, since I read for pleasure (as I suspect most people do), I want my writing to be more accessible to people.

While I want my writing to be enjoyable, I also want it to be purposeful. I know my fiction does not rise to the level of “literary” writing, but I want someone who is educated to be able to appreciate a level of complexity that adds to their enjoyment. Therefore not everything I want my reader to get out of the story is explicit in what is written. Histories and relationships between characters, for example, are often only hinted at, but if you want to spend the time and energy thinking about what those relationships are, you certainly can. In my story, “Wandering in the Shadows,” the parents are headed for a divorce and the mother may be having an affair. That fact is never stated, but it colors the relationship that the father has with his daughter and the depression the daughter is exhibiting. The casual reader can still enjoy the story and find a level of understanding that he or she is comfortable with, but the more-literary reader can find something more.

I suppose I am hung up on labels because I, as most writers, I suppose, want to be taken seriously. Stephen King was awarded the National Book Foundation’s Distinguished Contribution to American Letters Award in 2003 and a number of the members of the organization boycotted ceremonies or even canceled their memberships in protest. Their point was that King is not a “literary” writer; he’s just a glorified storyteller. But more people are reading, and in my case writing, because they were introduced to literature through King’s books than the esoteric writers the NBF honors annually.

In his book, On Writing, King famously stated that a writer writes not because he wants to, but because he has to. By that definition, I am a writer. I have to write. When Paula gave me the opportunity to write this entry, I had already been considering writing this essay, and I am grateful for the opportunity for it to reach an audience wider than my Facebook friends or writers’ group. I had to write it; it was going to burst into existence. But I’m a writer who uses traditional storytelling as the vehicle for my literary vision. My stories move emotions, whether to laughter or tears. My stories teach lessons that someone may not otherwise have an opportunity to experience. I don’t envision winning the National Book Award, but literary journals publish one of my stories every now and again, and my writers’ group seems to enjoy them. So, I’ll keep writing stories and publishing them on whatever platform for whomever wants to read them.

Because I’m a writer. Who tells stories.

haze


Jim Lee’s book of short stories, The Haze of Memory: A Literary Autobiography (by James T. Lee), is available on Amazon.com or through the CreateSpace community.



Unusual History: Annie Wealthy Holland


By Paula R. Stiles


[Check out more details about the above photo of Pee Dee Rosenwald School, c.1935, here.]


Though born in Virginia, plain, unassuming workhorse Annie Wealthy Holland (1871-1934) was one of the most influential African American educators, woman or man, in the early 20th century in North Carolina. Though greatly dedicated to the cause of African American education, she never earned a diploma. And though she wielded considerable power across the state as the demonstration agent for the Jeanes Fund and founder of the Negro Parent-Teacher Association (the first of its kind), equivalent to being a supervisor over all African American schools in North Carolina, she never had a formal administrative position. Annie Wealthy Holland’s career, first profiled a mere five years after her death in Five North Carolina Negro Educators, reflected the contradictions for women and for African Americans in Reconstruction and Segregation era North Carolina.

Holland was born in 1871 in Isle of Wight County in Virginia. Her parents, John Daughtry and Margaret Hill, had married in 1869, but divorced soon after she was born. This resulted in an early setback for Holland in her road to education. Even though her grandfather and grandmother had strong ties to the nearby plantation, her mother moved her young daughter to Southhampton County after remarrying. There, Annie spent her early years with few prospects, raising her six younger siblings while struggling to study.

Holland’s paternal family regarded the white owners of the nearby plantation so highly that they had named her after the mistress, Annie Wealthy. The Wealthys had also freed her grandfather, Friday Daughtry, in 1867 and given him some property of land and livestock to get started. He was able to increase this to the point where he invited his eldest granddaughter to return and pursue her studies while living with him. There, Holland learned about the ways and hardships of farming peanuts and sweet potatoes, a lifelong lesson. She also noticed that educational opportunities were increasing for African Americans, who were beginning to replace the previous white teachers in the field, and quickly took it to heart as her vocation.

After Holland graduated from the Isle of Wight County School at age 16, her grandfather sent her to the Hampton Normal and Agricultural Institute (now Hampton University) in Hampton, Virginia. Founded in 1861 to educate African American refugees from the War as future leaders of their communities, the Institute focused on teaching practical skills like trades. Unfortunately, Holland’s education was interrupted when her grandfather died after her first year. After moving to New York and working as a nurse and nanny for a family there, she was able to earn enough money to enroll for a second year, but illness due to malaria prevented her from completing her diploma (a lifelong regret she expressed decades later in surviving letters). She was, however, later able to earn a teaching certificate from Virginia Normal Industrial Institute.

At the age of 18, around the time of her grandfather’s death, she married a Hampton graduate named Willis Holland. They moved to Franklin, Virginia where, eight years later, they were serving as principal and assistant principal of a nearby school. Holland quickly learned (perhaps aided by her own early experiences of balancing study with child care) that the ability of their students to study and even attend school could be greatly and adversely affected by lack of basic resources. For example, she took it upon herself to conduct clothing drives for students who were too poor to have adequate winter clothing. African American public schools at this time suffered from a lack of educational resources, such as textbooks, in comparison to white schools. This made keeping the school open a constant challenge. Aside from a brief stint working on her own with a rural school, Holland continued to run the Franklin area school with her husband until 1911.

In October of that year, Holland made the decision to join the Jeanes Fund. The million-dollar Anna T. Jeanes Fund had been created by, and named after, Quaker philanthropist Anna Jeanes in 1907 to help expand public education for African Americans. It was unique among such foundations for allowing African Americans on the board of trustees.

The job was a formidable undertaking. As of 1914, the Fund did not even have one teacher for every one of their 119-county coverage in Virginia and North Carolina. The position involved a great deal of extension work, not only teaching of students but also community outreach and interaction. Nevertheless, Holland was so good at this that in 1915, she was asked to become the State Home Demonstration Agent in North Carolina. This gave her de facto authority over all African American elementary schools in the state. She held the position for 13 years.

In her new role, Holland had a comprehensive variety of roles and duties. She had to train and organize teachers, create reading circles and homemakers’ clubs, run meetings, and give church speeches. Her purview included 19 county schools, 10 city schools, and 3 “normal” (teaching college) schools. She might visit as many as twenty counties in a given month and oversaw forty-five county supervisors. She was the epitome of leading through service.

At the end of this period, Holland founded the first Negro Parent-Teacher State Association, called the North Carolina Congress of Colored Parents and Teachers, at Shaw University (an African American college founded as Raleigh Institute in 1865) in 1928. Shaw was a prestigious college, the first in the U.S. to have a four-year medical degree and the first African American college to accept women. This meeting of some fifteen thousand people and seven hundred and seventy organizations was the culmination of a long and hard, but fruitful career.

Holland died six years later in Louisburg, NC and was buried in Franklin. While her life and career had begun in Virginia, in the end, her heart belonged to North Carolina. In commemoration, a tree was planted in her honor at Shaw University in 1939, five years after her death at the age of 63.

Much of Holland’s success stemmed from her remarkable knack for diplomacy and her self-effacing approach. She was an excellent mediator, gifted at persuading teachers and parents, blacks and whites, to get along and work together. She believed that African Americans should stand up for themselves, albeit not in ways that would deliberately alienate whites.

She also had to deal with the reality that she was working in a period where women had to take a secondary role to men, regardless of their race. There was never a question, for example, when she ran a school with her husband, whether he would be the principal and she would be his assistant. The few women who were able to have a career outside of the home also had to work very hard to maintain their position — and as Holland herself discovered, that work often involved teaching other women how to be better homemakers.

Her low-key approach also allowed her to navigate potentially dangerous political shoals and expand education – especially rural, public education — in the state for African Americans considerably during the early Segregation period. Unlike some other African American leaders of the time, Holland lacked the option in her later career of working exclusively in that community. She had to deal with a white community that perceived itself as superior to her and did not necessarily approve of giving up resources for African American education, and she had to do so with both firmness and tact. Teaching impoverished children might have been the easiest part of her job. Possibly, her early experience with sympathetic whites such as her namesake was what led to her even-handed skill in dealing with both communities and establishing unusual legal ties across the great divide of Segregation.

Annie Wealthy Holland was not a glamorous woman by any stretch. Nor was she an obvious candidate for a forceful or transformational leader. But the drip of water over many years can erode stone better than a tsunami. Holland is an excellent example of one of many such leaders during the Segregation period who transformed North Carolina in numerous, pervasive and positive ways.

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Bibliography

The Educators,” The Women Who Ran the Schools: The Jeanes Teachers and Durham County’s Rural Black Schools.

Carter, Nathan. Five North Carolina Negro Educators. Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1939.

Crow, Jeffrey J.; Escott, Paul D.; and Hatley, Flora J. A History of African Americans in North Carolina. 2nd ed. Raleigh: North Carolina Office of Archives and History, 2011.

Gillespie, Michele and McMillen, Sally G., eds. North Carolina Women: Their Lives and Times, Vol. 1. The Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2014.

Hoffschwelle, Mary. The Rosenwald Schools of the American South. Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2006.

Kent, Scotti and Cohn, Scotti. More Than Petticoats: Remarkable North Carolina Women. Helena: Falcon Publishing, Inc., 2000.

Shaber, Sarah R. “Holland, Annie Wealthy,” NCPedia.org, 1988.

Williams, Shane. “Annie Wealthy Holland (1871-1934),” North Carolina History Project, 2016.