The Black & White World of 1938

I think we see the world from eighty-five years ago only in stark black and white. Old photos, old movies, old stories. And the rules and social mores were pretty much in black and white, too. The greys of culture then were hidden, attempting to blend in and disappear, even though there was some pushing still going on for the greys. But pretty much, in those days, as I see it, people didn't have too much time to rebel because they were too busy putting food on the table. After all, it was near the closing of a decades long Great Depression. So, it was indeed, a basic black and white existence. I try to hold onto all of what I have left of my family from that era in a few of those old photos, some stories, handwritten letters, and other scattered memorabilia. But the problem is, that the story from my family's 1938 life needed some factual answers and some color. I wanted to uncover the true story of their lives. I wanted to really get to know them. They deserved it and I needed to learn from them.

Let me introduce you to my family of 1938: A.J. Smith, age 62, husband and father, sawmill worker living in north Louisiana (town of Arcadia) with his wife and homemaker, Gertie, age 45, and mother to sons, Larue, age 24, Leck, age 22, Harry, age 21, Jimmy, age 16, and daughters, Louise, age 19, Lucile, age 14, and Estelle, age 9.

" Arcadia became well-known in 1934 when Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker were ambushed by the Bienville Parish Sheriff's posse and brought to Arcadia to Conger's Funeral Home. Thousands of people lined the streets to see the notorious outlaws who were still in the stolen car when it was towed into town." https://arcadialouisiana.org/history

To do this story justice, I had to try to get into the world they knew. So, I will share some global and local events from a 1938 timeline. Maybe you, the reader, could also envision your own family in those days. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/1938, https://www.presidency.ucsb.edu/documents/franklin-delano-roosevelt-event-timeline

Long before television, American history tells of families gathered around the radio for news and entertainment. I'm "pretty sure" that my family was part of the 80% of Americans that owned a radio that year, even though; what I do "know for sure," is that they barely "got by." I only know this because of a story my mother told that I will share a little later.

If my family were listening to the FDR's Fireside Chats, and also reading the newspapers, they would have learned about Hitler raising his ugly head in Europe, making pacts with foreign leaders (some naive, some almost as evil as the moustached-madman, and others just simple passive cowards.) His goal was overtly and covertly simple: to spread his cancerous claws to snatch the life out of all that was good and holy. They also would have known that European Jews, knowing the dangers ahead, had no place to find refuge from persecution in any part of Europe and America would only allow 27,370 asylum. Hitler had already begun to make Jews over 15 years of age, wear identity cards.

Also to set the world stage; in Africa, Ethiopians had been besieged by Germany's puppet, Italian Prime Minister Mussolini. Great Britain, (with maybe not such an altruistic agenda for Ethiopia,) did have a plan to protect its African assets, against the P.M.'s schemes.

And on the homefront, they would have also known that their own president, Franklin Delano Roosevelt, had already butted heads with Japan over China in attempts to keep them from further advancing into China and had told Americans to prepare themselves for "self-defense" in his State of the Union address in January 1938.

Wars and rumours of wars always exist, but people try to make the most and the best of their lives. For those that could afford the movies, they might have seen Disney's, "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" that year. Or maybe imagination was satisfied by the less costly first edition of the "Superman" comic book. The world certainly needed a Superman right about then. But the big entertainment event most notable for my family, our nation, and the world that year was the one my mother remembered and told of: the boxing rematch of America's, Joe Louis and Germany's, Max Schmeling.

(My mother taught me of the ongoing political significance for America and for Black Americans. She told me that the Nazis hated the Jews and the Blacks for no good reason except for their religious beliefs or skin color.) Not only had Louis defeated Schmeling once before in 1936, Jesse Owens had taken home four gold medals and set world records in Hitler's own humiliated backyard in the Olympic Games that same year.

My mother told me the family had been gathered around the radio for the fight, anticipating the rounds, blow by blow from Yankee Stadium in New York. But before it had even truly started, amidst all that excitement:

"The fight lasted two minutes and four seconds. Louis battered Schmeling with a series of swift attacks, forcing him against the ropes and giving him a paralyzing body blow (Schmeling afterward claimed it was an illegal kidney punch). Schmeling was knocked down three times and only managed to throw two punches in the entire bout. On the third knockdown, Schmeling's trainer threw in the towel and referee Arthur Donovan stopped the fight.

Well-established as one of the most significant boxing matches in history, the fight has been widely regarded as among the most important or historic sports events of all time. It was the first time that many white Americans openly cheered for a black man against a white opponent." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joe_Louis

All of these newsworthy events occured before September 19th that year, and I wish I could have included the greatest horse race of all times that happened in November at the Pimlico Track in Baltimore, Maryland. I would have told you that Secretariat, a horse straight from the halls of Heaven and perhaps touched by God's own Hand, handedly beat a Triple Crown winner, War Admiral by four lengths. So, I can't tell you that my family knew of this event. You see, tragedy befell and devastated their world that autumn day and time stood coldly still for them.

As I mentioned before, my grandfather made his meager living by cutting trees and taking them to the sawmills. My uncles worked alongside him from a young age. From all accounts, A.J. Smith was a man who showed love to his children by reading to them and telling them stories, drank a little more than he should have, worked hard, and never backed away from a fight. He was an imperfect man but he was loved.

All of my uncles were known to be a bit rowdy, much like their father, except for the oldest one, Larue. He was quiet and studious and somber. He was more like my grandmother, a lady in every respect.

The second son, Leck (nickname,) had been named Charles Lescale after the doctor in south Louisiana that had removed my grandfather's gallbladder. (I suppose he got him out of a lot of pain.) Leck was shorter than the rest of the brothers, but from all accounts, the toughest. He loved his mother more than anyone and was the child most affectionate towards her, never leaving the house without first kissing her goodbye.

Uncle Leck had girlfriends, girlfriends, girlfriends. (He was the only one with pictures of them with him.) One of his girlfriends even embroidered one of his shirt pockets with his initials, CLS and two hearts with an arrow through them.

Leck and Harry, his brother, were best of friends and they teased and watched over their youngest brother, Jimmy. All the brothers were protective of their three sisters and adored them, treating them with gentleness and respect. I am very secure in the fact that they were raised and lived that way. (As my uncles later married, never was there a single word of mistreatment towards women...even ex-wives testified of that.)

From Uncle Leck to his beloved mother: 1938 letter & postcard confirm that he was in Winnsboro, La (Franklin Parish.) He and Grandpa were working with a man named Ben Gallagher (down by the river.) Uncle Leck had hurt his arm somehow. In the letter he states he is terribly homesick and wants to come home to his mother, never leave her, and stay with her “until the day he dies.” Eight months later he was shot, Monday, September 19, 1938.

In 1961, my mother would name my brother, Charles Lescale, after him in.

Uncle Harry passed away in 1965. I still recall my Grandma wailing at the funeral.

She said she wanted to be the next one to go because she couldn’t bear to lose anymore children.

After Grandma’s stroke, she gradually declined in health, and on her deathbed kept saying, “Do you see those two boys? They’ve come for me.” I believe it was Leck & Harry. May 6, 1984.

And the shirt he was wearing when he got shot? You guessed it...the one that his girlfriend had embroidered on the pocket...but now it has his blood droplets on it. And we have saved it all these years. That blood colored the world for our family that day...it's no longer in black and white for us.