by: Marceline Donaldson
I have started writing my memoirs. Especially since life does not go on forever I am trying to leave the story of my life for my childen, grandchildren, etc. so I thought I would share this one with all of you.
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When I was about 15 and older at Central Congregational Church in NOLA with Rev. Nicholas Hood, Sr. as pastor, our youth group engaged in lots of civil rights activities.
One that I look back on today as most amazing were the Sundays we traveled to White churches in Alabama, Mississippi, Florida as a Black Jr. Choir. We spent Sunday mornings singing as a choir at several such churches. Rev. Hood graduated from Yale Divinity School and came to pastor at Central. He was part of a circle of friends – all ordained – all White, serving churches in the south and these were the churches we visited.
We were not invited by the congregations we visited, we were invited by the pastors of the churches working through and trying to live the Christian message they were preaching in their own congregations.
It was quite a period of time. We also went to a couple white churches to their youth group meetings in New Orleans, but nothing compared to our road trips.
We would sing as a choir; process behind the Sr. Choir of the church and followed by the Church ministers. Rev. Hood usually processed with the Church’s ministers because he generally preached the sermon – or – as time passed Rev. Martin Luther King, jr. who was young and just beginning his ministry would preach the sermon. Where Nick Hood didn’t preach, Martin was the preacher for that Sunday. On one trip, Andrew Young was the preacher.
We had some memorable encounters. One that stands out was a church in Alabama which was excited about this Jr. High Group, especially meeting with their Jr. High Group. At that church as at others, when we made these trips we stayed with the family of one of the Church’s Jr. High Members. We each stayed with a different person.
At this particular Churdh the neighbors and others in the area were not pleased with these “N——” corrupting their wonderful children and after we arrived and were dropped off at the homes where we were to stay we very quickly had to grab our things and get back into the station wagons that brought us. The neighbors had gathered and were on their way down the road with rifles intending to kill those “N——” and get them out of town. Wendell Butler – one of the Jr. High group was one of the last to get into Nick Hood’s car. Wendell was taking a shower when all of this exploded and so the family and others wrapped him in a towel and shoved him into the car. It took a long time before Wendell lived that down. The last time I saw Wendell that was one of the first conversations we had – remembering.
As Wendell dressed in the back of the car – they shoved him and his clothes into the car because everyone was afraid we would not get out in time – we drove down the country road back to NOLA at quite a fast speed, however, not so fast that we missed the effigy of Nick Hood and Andrew Young hanging from the trees above the road.
Of course, it was something our group talked about once we got together again at Central to try to make sense out of and incorporate what happened into our religious lives.
Those were the days.
