Silver Spring Civil Rights Museum

Crivella’s Wayside Inn. Tucked away in the 1000-block of East West Highway near downtown Silver Spring, Maryland, this former restaurant was the scene of non-violent civil rights protests between 1962 and 1965. Montgomery County in 2006 bought the former Crivella’s Wayside Inn. After holding listening sessions with members of Silver Spring’s historic Black community, county leaders worked with the Smithsonian Institution’s National Museum of African American History to collect stories, artifacts, and design exhibits to tell the story of Silver Spring’s Black communities, from colonial plantations and enslavement through Reconstruction, Jim Crow, and the civil rights movement.

That’s what a journalist writing about a new Silver Spring Civil Rights Museum might have written had there been a museum developed in the former Crivella’s space. Instead, Montgomery County officials demolished the former restaurant and erased its history. This post explores a lost opportunity for Montgomery County to confront its segregationist history and seek reconciliation with its African American residents, past and present. Continue reading

Protestors deface Silver Spring “monument”

There are 53 public art installations in Silver Spring, Maryland. Only two depict historical figures. One is a mural showing President Harry Truman during a visit to the suburban community. The other is a bronze bust of Norman Lane. Earlier this week, during protests stemming from Minneapolis resident George Floyd’s murder by police, vandals twice defaced the Norman Lane “monument.”

JUTP-Norman Lane

Just Up The Pike, Facebook, June 2020.

Lots of folks know who Harry Truman was. But Norman Lane?

Lane (1911-1987) was an indigent who wandered throughout downtown Silver Spring for much of the 20th century. He was affectionately dubbed the “Mayor of Silver Spring.” In 1991 a local artist dedicated a bronze bust depicting Lane in an alley dubbed the “Mayor’s Promenade” near 8221 Georgia Avenue.

norman-lane-2017

Norman Lane bust, 2017.

Lane was a well-known figure and stories of his exploits are part of Silver Spring’s oral tradition. He was able to walk into many Silver Spring restaurants, get a seat, and eat compliments of the establishment. These same places declined to serve African Americans. Or, if they did, required African Americans to go to back doors for take-out service.

The Norman Lane bust was one of 19 stops along the Silver Spring Black History tours that I gave between 2016 and 2018. I intentionally included Lane’s monument to underscore how effectively Silver Spring has whitewashed its history. While the community celebrates the memory of a colorful character in downtown art and commemorative spaces, there are no similar artworks and spaces dedicated to the community’s notable people of color (African Americans) who contributed to Silver Spring’s history.

2012RoscoeNix

Roscoe Nix. Source: Montgomery County Volunteer Center.

At the Norman Lane site, I talked about Roscoe Nix (1911-2012), the Alabama native and World War II veteran who worked in the U.S. departments of Labor and Justice. Nix frequently is credited with being a pioneer in Montgomery County civil rights history.

Nix served on the Maryland Human Rights Commission as its executive secretary in the 1960s; he was the first African American elected to the Montgomery County School Board (1974); and, he was the Montgomery County NAACP chapter president from 1980 to 1990.

Roscoe Nix Elementary School, 2017.

Though Montgomery County named an elementary school (several miles outside of downtown Silver Spring) for Nix in 2006, there are no monuments, markers, etc. commemorating the events in 1962 that launched Nix’s civil rights career. Nix’s contributions are invisible and the site where he cut his civil rights activism was demolished more than a decade ago.

In early 1962, shortly after Montgomery County enacted a public accommodations law, Nix and several of his white and African American coworkers went to a local restaurant in downtown Silver Spring for lunch. Nix was one of more than 600 Department of Labor employees whose offices had moved to Silver Spring the year before.

Silver Spring at the time was a “sundown suburb” and about 150 to 200 African Americans were among the agency employees relocated to Silver Spring in October 1961.

labor-dept-shifts

The Washington Post, October 17, 1961.

The Washington Post in October 1961 noted,

Silver Spring has a very small Negro population and a recent study by the Montgomery County Human Relations Commission showed that some eating establishments will accept Negro patronage and some will not.

The same Post article noted,

While a few of the Negro employes [sic.] are on the professional level a majority hold clerical jobs.

That 1961 move set the stage for civil rights actions over the next five years that helped remove many of the remaining Jim Crow barriers in downtown Silver Spring.

Between April and August 1962, at least four episodes of racial discrimination were documented at Crivella’s Wayside Inn on East-West Highway. Roscoe Nix was the first to file a complaint filed under the county’s public accommodation law.

1962 protest photo

Baltimore Afro-American, May 5, 1962.

The restaurant was the site of several sit-ins and street demonstrations in 1962. Over the next four years, additional complaints and litigation were filed against Crivella’s alleging

CORE team served

Chicago Defender, February 18, 1963.

civil rights violations. The demonstrations were widely covered by Black and white newspapers and they attracted such notables as Washington-based Julius Hobson, a leader in the Congress on Racial Equality (CORE).

Roscoe Nix’s activism got it all started.

Meanwhile, as Nix was trying to get a meal in one of Silver Spring’s restaurants, Lane was able to get seated in most establishments he entered and he was served — the food was complimentary. In segregated Silver Spring, most businesses wouldn’t take Roscoe Nix’s money and he was unwelcome in their establishments. Lane, who had no money, found comfort and nourishment throughout the community.

A Silver Spring alley was renamed to commemorate Norman Lane’s life.

I can only speculate at this point why Norman Lane’s monument is being vandalized during this period of protest and unrest over white supremacy. I hope it’s because some folks in Silver Spring recognize the irony in the community’s commemoration of a homeless white man instead of a Black civil rights leader.

Lane-Nix Slide

Slide from “Silver Spring: A Sundown Suburb in the Capital Beltway” by David Rotenstein.

© 2020 D.S. Rotenstein

E. Brooke Lee’s Silver Spring

E. Brooke Lee (1892-1984) was a segregationist real estate speculator. Histories of Silver Spring and Montgomery County, Maryland, celebrate his contributions to local politics and economic development while ignoring or minimizing his role in creating a sundown suburb where only whites could own and rent homes.

Though I have written about Lee elsewhere (Washington Post 2017 and “Protesting Invisibility in Silver Spring, Maryland” [2018]), the full extent of his racialized real estate practices remain unexplored. This post is a brief introduction to some of Lee’s real estate holdings and the devices he used to keep Silver Spring white.

Sign for one of Lee’s “restricted” subdivisions in NW Washington. “Restricted” was code for “whites only.” Credit: DC Public Library/National Archives and Records Administration.

Lee and his contemporaries accomplished this through the use of racially restrictive deed covenants attached to the individual properties they owned and sold as well as the residential subdivisions they developed. In Silver Spring’s commercial and public spaces, strictly enforced Jim Crow rules prevented African Americans from shopping in stores, seeing movies, eating in restaurants, and participating in civic events. The segregation buck stopped with Lee, who was a major investor and political boss and who wielded substantial power between 1920 and 1948.

Even after he left public life, Lee continued to exert considerable influence in the policies and practices that reinforced segregation in Montgomery County until 1970.

E. Brooke Lee described civil rights laws as “anti-white laws.” He viewed open housing laws enacted to eliminate discrimination as a threat to the suburbs he created.

After Lee returned to Silver Spring after serving in World War I, he began building on his family’s real estate empire. It dated back to 1840 when Lee’s ancestor, Francis Preston Blair established a sprawling plantation that relied on enslaved labor. Lee had a diverse real estate portfolio. He subdivided and sold commercial and residential lots under his own name as well as through the several development companies he founded in the 1920s and 1930s. These include the North Washington Realty Company and the Fairway Land Company.

Sample of residential subdivisions platted by E. Brooke Lee and his various companies in Silver Spring, 1920-1948.

Collectively, Lee’s real estate transactions comprised the sale and development of hundreds of parcels where African Americans could not live unless they were domestic servants employed by white property owners or tenants. Here is a sample of the racially restrictive deed covenants found in deeds Lee and his companies executed between 1920 and 1948 when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that racially restrictive deed covenants were unenforceable in courts.

E. Brooke Lee, Individual

For the purposes of sanitation and health, neither the Grantee, nor its successors or assigns, shall or will sell, grant, lease, rent or convey the said premises to any person of the negro race — E. Brooke Lee and Elizabeth Lee to the Convention of The Protestant Episcopal Church of the Diocese of Washington, April 5, 1929. Montgomery County Deed Book 478, p. 475.

North Washington Realty Company

For the purposes of sanitation and health it is agreed by the parties hereto that the property hereby conveyed shall not be sold, leased, rented or transferred to a member of a race whose death rate is greater than that of the white race. — North Washington Realty Company, Incorporated, to Bertha D. King, January 21, 1928. Montgomery County Deed Book 448, p. 409.

Fairway Land Company

For the purposes of sanitation and health it is agreed by the parties hereto that the property hereby conveyed shall not be sold, leased, rented or transferred to a member of a race whose death rate is greater than that of the white race. — Fairway Land Company to Clara V. Peter, March 12, 1929. Montgomery County Deed Book 478, p. 194.

After the United States entered World War II, the Washington, D.C., housing authority seized several of Lee’s subdivisions developed by the Fairway Land Company. The properties were to be developed to provide housing for white defense industry workers. Lee challenged the federal action in court to protect his deed covenants. Though the U.S. agency won the case, the housing remained mainly vacant because not enough white occupants could be found. This happened at a time when Washington area Black families and defense workers struggled to find housing. Read more about the Fairway case in this 2016 blog post and subsequent Maryland Department of Transportation Cultural Resources (CRaB) Bulletin.

Racially restrictive deed covenant, E. Brooke Lee, 1929.

E. Brooke Lee Middle School, Silver Spring. My 2017 Washington Post article describing Lee as a segregationist spurred a 2019 initiative to change this school’s name.

© 202 D.S. Rotenstein

 

Silver Spring Historical Society gets no respect

Jerry McCoy, founder, president, and 20% of the Silver Spring Historical Society membership recently saw a refrigerator magnet in a local CVS. He took a picture and posted it to the SSHS Facebook page with the caption: “#norespect — feeling disappointed at CVS Pharmacy.”

Jerry’s feelings appear to be hurt because the magnet’s maker didn’t include Silver Spring in the places depicted. Boo-hoo.

What about all of Silver Spring’s African American residents who for decades have complained that McCoy’s whites-only histories and historic preservation advocacy has excluded — erased — the Black experience in Silver Spring and the people who were/are part of it? Add to that, histories, placemaking initiatives, and historic preservation products that uncritically celebrate the white supremacists who founded Silver Spring.

Perhaps folks who want anti-racist histories and historic preservation in Silver Spring should adopt the hashtag, #norespect and share it each time Jerry and his merry band of building huggers posts something.

 

Tiny wins against racist & whitewashed history

Earlier this year I tweeted about the Montgomery County, Maryland, Parks Department’s whitewashed description of Silver Spring founder Francis Preston Blair’s property. The county owns a small slice of that property and it is called “Acorn Park” for the 19th century gazebo located there. Blair had built the gazebo in the property he had called “Silver Spring.”

Most histories produced by the local historical society and county agencies describe Blair’s farm as a “summer retreat” or estate. The Montgomery County Parks Department’s Acorn Park website read, “Blair and his wife Eliza established a 300-acre summer estate called Silver Spring.”

Screen capture from the Acorn Park website taken in early 2019.

I was disappointed that more than a year of lobbying Montgomery County agencies to correct the park’s whitewashed history appeared to have achieved nothing,.

I took to Twitter in April 2019 to ask why Montgomery County’s Parks Department was still describing Blair’s property as a “summer estate.”

https://twitter.com/iVernacular/status/1117737377127182336

Two weeks later and with no direct response to my tweet, Acorn Park’s website was updated with a new description for Blair’s property: “[Blair] established a 300-acre plantation at the spring.

Acorn Park website screen capture, August 9, 2019.

It’s a start. But I’m wondering why the agency removed the direct narrative link to Silver Spring’s founding as a plantation where enslaved people worked, lived, and died to build Blair’s wealth that was then used to build the Silver Spring community. I guess the image of a plantation and the extended Blair’s family white supremacist real estate practices that made Silver Spring a sundown suburb until c. 1970 aren’t consistent with the community’s contemporary image and branding as a liberal and progressive haven.

© 2019 D.S. Rotenstein

Mother Jones in Suburban Maryland: Folklore and History

Photograph shows labor activist Mother Jones in New York City, 1915. Library of Congress photo.

Thanks to the Internet and an endless stream of on-this-day (#OTD) social media posts, ordinary people are never far from history. Such is the case of my friend Glyn Robbins, a UK social justice activist and scholar immersed in housing and labor history and practice. Glyn recently read a post commemorating the anniversary of the death of 20th century labor activist Marry Harris “Mother” Jones (1830-1930).

Mother Jones emigrated to Canada from her native Ireland as a child. As an adult she worked as a schoolteacher and seamstress in Michigan and Chicago. In 1861, Harris married an ironworker and union member George Jones. In the 1870s, she began attending labor meetings and she became increasingly vocal.

Over the next several decades, Mother Jones traveled widely speaking on behalf of workers and supporting their demands for fair wages, hours, and working conditions. For more on Mother Jones, visit the Mother Jones Museum website for a curated collection of links and stories about her life,

“I didn’t know she was buried near you,” he wrote to me on Facebook. “I was told by local labor movement folk that Mother Jones is buried near Silver Spring.” He included a link to an Irish news article titled, “Remembering Irish-born Mary Harris ‘Mother’ Jones on the anniversary of her death.”

Naturally, I got a little curious. I knew that she had spent her last years in the Washington, D.C., area. But, my familiarity with the Mother Jones story didn’t go too deeply into her personal life. My friend’s message got me to thinking: If Mother Jones did die in Silver Spring, where is the site? Was she really buried here? A warm late fall day and some spare time after doing research at the Library of Congress gave me the cover I need to pursue a little extra-curricular research. Continue reading

Is the Purple Line a pig in a poke?

Purple Line construction sign.

Some Montgomery County, Maryland, residents think they’ve been sold a pig in a poke as far as the Purple Line is concerned. Early on, they enthusiastically supported the 16-mile light rail project linking Langley Park and Bethesda. But after construction started and some of the short- and long-term impacts began appearing, their opinions changed.

Whether it’s the observant Jews who will lose a key walking route to synagogue or the homeowners whose new neighbors include piles of cut trees, trash, and vermin, one thing has become clear ever since construction began in 2017: the new light rail line has a bigger price tag than Maryland transportation officials told people during nearly 30 years of planning.

“Under any circumstances where construction is taking place, you have to expect a level of inconvenience for a window of time,” said Leslie Herrera, a Silver Spring resident whose house abuts the Purple Line corridor in Lyttonsville. Once a big Purple Line advocate, Herrera has soured on the project.

She cites the piles of cut trees, trash, and animals, and unresponsive Purple Line officials as the reasons. “I’ve been to all of the meetings but one and it’s generally the same. It’s generally the same. They say they’ll get back to you. You call, no answer. No call back,” she said while standing near a clear-cut lot next to her home.

Cut trees, debris piles, and trash in the Purple Line clearcut corridor behind homes along Pennsylvania Avenue in Silver Spring’s Lyttonsville neighborhood.

Continue reading

Tastee Diner’s secret historic menu

Tastee Diner, Silver Spring, Maryland.

It’s well known that the most exclusive restaurants have special menus with items reserved for well-heeled and well-connected patrons. These special people dine on dishes carefully prepared by chefs not line cooks. During its earliest years in business, the Tastee Diner had its own special menu of sorts. Not only that, the Silver Spring, Maryland, eatery also had a special cover charge. Entry and seating were free for white folks; the admission price for people of color was astronomically high: it was the color of their skin.

The Silver Spring Historical Society celebrates the Tastee Diner in its books, blog posts, walking tours, and other public programs. The group talks about the community’s nostalgia for the diner and how Silver Spring mobilized to “save” and move the diner when downtown redevelopment threatened it nearly 20 years ago.

Earlier this week the Silver Spring Historical Society posted on its facebook page, “A local high school student will be utilizing SSHS’s collection of materials about Tastee Diner for a school project.”

Silver Spring Historical Society Facebook page screen capture, October 12, 2018.

I wonder if the historical society will tell the high school student about the diner’s special menu, the one with prices that people of color could never pay. I wonder if this exercise in nostalgia economics will include scholarship by historians who have explored Tastee Diner’s special menu, the one that historian Andrew Hurley wrote about in 2002:

Segregated service was by no means exclusive to diners located in the Deep South. Luncheonettes, coffee shops, and diners in the Middle Atlantic and midwestern states resorted to many of the same practices that prevailed in the old Confederacy. Eddie Warner, for instance, ran a chain of diners in suburban Maryland on the outskirts of Washington, D.C. Warner instructed his employees to notify black patrons that they could not be served inside the diner, but that take-out service was available. Warner made no exception for the African-American cooks and dishwashers he hired periodically. Company policy dictated that they take their meals alone in the back kitchen. Hurley, Andrew. Diners, Bowling Alleys, and Trailer Parks: Chasing the American Dream in the Postwar Consumer Culture. New York: Basic Books, 2002, pp. 88-89.

Today’s Tastee Diner clientele looks nothing like its Jim Crow-era predecessors. The restaurant is a popular eatery and meeting place for people of all races and cultural backgrounds — mostly. A decade ago, the Tastee Diner faced and overcame allegations that it discriminated against LGBTQ diners. The discriminatory practices leading to episodes between 2009 and 2011 appear to have been abandoned and mostly forgotten. Yet, when I did Black History tours in downtown Silver Spring, people who recalled them made sure that I mentioned them as we met across from the restaurant.

So who is making sure that Montgomery County students using the Silver Spring Historical Society as an educational resource are getting real history, not fake whitewashed history? How are parents and educators to know whether the history lessons about menus and economies at the historic eatery will include the hidden charges not published in the historic menus.

© 2018 D.S. Rotenstein

An interview with Silver Spring blogger Dan Reed

Credit: Just Up The Pike Facebook profile picture.

More than a year before Dan Reed invited people to join him at local establishments to “ask [him] (almost) anything,” I sat down with the urbanism blogger and real estate agent to talk about Silver Spring history and a Washington urban legend known as “The Plan.” Reed has written prolifically on a wide range of Silver Spring topics for his blog, Just Up The Pike, the Greater Greater Washington blog, and Washingtonian magazine. I was interested in his epistemic background as it relates to how Silver Spring produces history and how Silver Spring uses history in placemaking and community-building efforts.

I spoke with Reed that day for my research on suburban erasure that is part of a book project about a suburban Atlanta city; Silver Spring and Washington are sources for comparative material. For the past five years. I have been asking interviewees some variant of this question: Where can I go to find Black history sites in your community? The interview with Reed was no different:

ROTENSTEIN: Where would you go in Silver Spring to see African American history?

REED: In downtown Silver Spring?

ROTENSTEIN: Yes.

REED: [Pause]  I mean I guess – I would recommend Lyttonsville, which is not downtown; it’s next to it.

ROTENSTEIN: Very specific about downtown?

REED: [Pause] I’ll be honest, I can’t think of anything. I can think of barbershops. That’s the first thing that came to mind. There are a lot of black barbershops. I still go to the same barber that I went to when I was seven in downtown. His name is TJ. He used to be at Community Barbers on Georgia Avenue but now he’s in Petworth in D.C. Which reminds me, I need to make an appointment.

But that is an element of black culture that you can find here.

I hope you’re going to tell me there’s some piece of black history that I can go out and find this afternoon in downtown Silver Spring?

The reason for publishing the interview at this time, in its entirety, derives from something that happened this past June. Reed, in a series of tweets, alleged that he had been invited and subsequently uninvited as a speaker at a local African American history themed event. A woman working on the event’s planning committee had searched Google for potential speakers and she found Reed’s name because of his frequent public appearances and writing about Silver Spring.

The woman called Reed and spoke with him about the event and about the possibility of speaking. The committee on which she was serving had established that all invitations to speak at the event would be determined by a committee consensus, not by one individual. After speaking with Reed, the woman called me and asked if I knew Reed. I answered affirmatively and then I explained why I believed he might not be a good choice as a speaker. I described the 2016 interview that I did with Reed as well as things that he had written about Lyttonsvillle and his positions on such topics as the Purple Line — all information the woman did not know. She then called Reed again and told him that he may not be a candidate to speak.

And then the tweeting began.

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