the two boys were dangling in the air. I turned off, sick at heart.”
“Crusade for Justice: The Autobiography of Ida B. Wells” (1970)
Ida Wells fought racial injustice in the South more than 130 years ago, but her autobiography reads like it was written last month. One of the most compelling stories predates her role in the early civil rights movement. In this scene, she describes what happened after her parents died, when several men stood in her family’s house and decided that all of her younger brothers and sisters would be scattered to other households to be cared for. Wells later recalled:
“When all this had been arranged to their satisfaction, I, who said nothing before and had not even been consulted, calmly announced that they were not going to put any of the children anywhere; I said that it would make my father and mother turn over in their graves to know their children had been scattered like that and that we owned the house and if the Masons would help me find work, I would take care of them.”
The 14-year-old Ida Wells found a job as a teacher and managed to keep her brothers and sisters together.
“Father of the Blues: An Autobiography” by W.C. Handy (1941)
I read this book last year and was amused by the fact that W.C. Handy’s father went to great lengths to stop his son from having a career in music — including making young W.C. return a guitar he bought with money he saved up. “Take it away, I tell you!” Charles Handy told his son. “Get it out of your hands. Whatever possessed you to bring a sinful thing like that into our Christian home?”Since W.C. Handy turned out to be one the great composer/musicians of his era, this anecdote did make me wonder whether we modern-day parents have it all wrong. If we want our kids to grow up to be great musicians, should we maybe refuse to let them bring a musical instrument into the house? It worked for Charles Handy.
Civil rights leader Myles Horton says in his autobiography, “I took the gamble of doing something about a moral problem instead of simply talking about it.”
“Doctor Woman of the Cumberlands: The Autobiography of May Cravath Wharton” (1953)
One of the overlooked heroes of Tennessee history, Wharton moved to the Cumberland County community of Pleasant Hill during World War I. For many years, she was the only physician for miles around. In her autobiography, she describes what it was like to travel through her part of the state (often on foot or by mule) and treat people in their tiny log cabin homes who were suffering from life-threatening diseases. It is a touching story that makes it very clear why some folks in Cumberland County still revere the name May Wharton.
“I resolved that mothers should be saved; that little children should be given a fair start in life; that pneumonia, pellagra, diabetes, anemia and all the rest should not go on and on until no medical skill should cure them; that the old and invalid should have some comfort and care even when they could not be mended; and that those far from doctors should have medical aid brought within reach — of their homes and their thin pocketbooks,” Wharton wrote.
“First Lady of the Seeing Eye” by Morris Frank (1957)
Nashville native Morris Frank was the first blind man to train and use a Seeing Eye dog, and the title of the book refers to his German shepherd. However, this is, in every sense of the word, Frank’s autobiography — the fascinating story about how his dog, Buddy, helped transform his life from a lonely one into one in which people were constantly talking to him.
In his book, Frank describes the way New Yorkers reacted when they realized his dog was leading him around the city. “Everywhere people were attracted to Buddy,” he wrote. “They spoke to her, petted her, offered her sweets. But she refused to be distracted, did not get irritated or side tracked, and did her work magnificently and with obvious pleasure. In a week Buddy had conquered the biggest city in the world. She was a celebrity in a town that loves nothing better.”
“The Long Haul: An Autobiography” by Myles Horton (1990)
Horton has 