Charlotte Coffield used a bridge to teach Black history

For Charlotte Coffield, Black history wasn’t something she would pull from a closet shelf and dust off for one month each year and talk about it to White audiences. Every month was Black History Month. Charlotte didn’t need to open a book or go to a museum to see the faces of the Black men and women who changed their communities and our nation for the better. All Charlotte had to do was find the nearest object where she could see her own reflection. Charlotte Annieperry Coffield died September 11, 2024. She was 91.

Charlotte Coffield speaks during the 2018 Talbot Avenue Bridge centennial celebration. Photo by David S. Rotenstein.

Charlotte lived her entire life in a suburban Washington, D.C., community called Lyttonsville. For most of its history, Lyttonsville was Silver Spring, Maryland’s, other side of the tracks. Founded in 1853 when a free Black man, Samuel Lytton, bought a four-acre farm, the community became one of more than 40 rural all-Black enclaves or hamlets in segregated Montgomery County, Maryland. Lyttonsville is a liminal space in-betwixt and between Black and White, suburban and rural, North and South. Charlotte Coffield’s story parallels the community’s history and then became an indelible part of Lyttonsville’s history as she dedicated the last years of her life to preserving it.

Growing up in Lyttonsville, Charlotte lived in a home without running water and in a neighborhood with no paved streets. She attended a two-room “colored school” and like many Black people in Washington and its suburbs, she found a career in the federal workforce.

Charlotte worked as an assistant to Dr. Boyce Williams in the U.S. Department of Health, Education, and Welfare. Williams was hearing impaired and Charlotte learned sign language to communicate with him. Charlotte became the first American Sign Language interpreter in the federal government and she pioneered new workplace tools for hearing impaired people. Charlotte’s work earned wide acclaim and Gallaudet University awarded her an honorary doctorate.

August 1960 “The Maryland C&P Call” clipping from an article featuring Charlotte Coffield’s pioneering interpretive tools for hearing impaired people in the workplace. Courtesy of Charlotte Coffield.

After she retired, Charlotte dedicated her life to activism and to undoing decades of erasure of Lyttonsville’s history and people by local historians, historic preservationists, and government agencies. The final chapter in Coffield’s life involved uplifting the story of the Talbot Avenue Bridge, an old railroad bridge that connected Lyttonsville with Silver Spring, a sundown suburb where Black people couldn’t buy homes, see movies, or eat in restaurants.

That’s the abridged version of Charlotte’s story, one that might have been suitable for a Washington Post obituary, had the newspaper that had no qualms extracting her knowledge of Black history for its readers bothered to write one. There was much more to Coffield’s story and her immersion in Black history as a subject and a way of life. I first met Charlotte Coffield in 2016 when I interviewed her for my research into gentrification and erasure. We exchanged information in dialogues about history and public policy. In 2018, we became collaborators to celebrate the Talbot Avenue Bridge’s centennial and efforts to ensure its commemoration after its demolition. What follows draws from my interviews and collaborations with Charlotte, my friend and my teacher.

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Crumbs

Ever wonder what the smallest unit a 7-story concrete cold warehouse can be reduced to? Crumbs, apparently. Crews have gone from carting away boulder-sized concrete debris from the former Federal Cold Storage Co. site to running it through a milling machine and creating massive mounds of historic building crumbs. It looks like they’re reaching the end of the demolition phase. Demolition began in early November 2021 ….

Former Federal Cold Storage Co. building demolition, Pittsburgh, Pa., January 6, 2023.
Former Federal Cold Storage Co. building demolition, Pittsburgh, Pa., January 6, 2023.
Former Federal Cold Storage Co. building demolition, Pittsburgh, Pa., January 6, 2023.

For a complete rundown on this spectacular demolition operation and the building’s history, check out this November 2022 virtual program hosted by the Society for Industrial Archeology:

©2023 D.S. Rotenstein

From writing history’s first draft to making history

Yesterday, we said goodbye to our friend Lillian Cooper Wiggins. The memorial was held at Arlington National Cemetery and the hall was filled to capacity with family and friends. I was honored and humbled to be among the many people Lil invited into her life and to be there to help celebrate that life.

Lil’s daughter asked me to draw on my many interviews with her mom to help write the obituaries published in The Washington Post and The Washington Informer. My words were unmistakable in the beautiful program Karen compiled to celebrate her mom’s life. I was fortunate to have so many of Lil’s own words to share in my tribute to her. Words like these: “My principle was to be the best I could to write as truthful as I could.” Good advice for a historian and writer.

Lil was a force of nature and one of the best people I have had the honor to know and befriend. She had a front row seat to history as Washington transformed from a Jim Crow Southern town into an iconic Chocolate City. As she transformed herself from a midwestern transplant into a centerpiece of Washington’s social, political, and economic life, Lil moved from that front seat onto center stage. Lil went from writing history’s first draft as an influential journalist to becoming part of history because of her writing and so much more.

Thank you Lil for everything.

One final dispatch “From the Desk of Lil”

“From the Desk of Lil” was the column that Lillian Cooper Wiggins wrote for the Washington Afro-American newspaper.

Lillian Cooper Wiggins died October 26 at age 92. She was my friend and the inspiration for much of the work that I have done since 2011 when I began writing about gentrification and racism in Decatur, Ga. I’m a historian and I first met Lillian in the pages of a history book of sorts, Dream City, the landmark 1994 work by Washington, D.C., journalists Harry Jaffe and Tom Sherwood. It’s a deep dive into the politics and culture of late-twentieth-century Washington wrapped around the story of Mayor-for-Life Marion Barry.

Dream City is required reading for anyone working and living in Washington. I first picked it up in 2007 while working as a consultant to the Local Initiatives Support Corporation (LISC). I had been hired to do documentary research and dozens of oral history interviews to support author Tony Proscio in writing his book documenting the history of the DC LISC office.

Lillian Cooper Wiggins aboard Air Force 2 while covering Hubert Humphrey’s trip to Africa. Photo courtesy of Lillian Cooper Wiggins.

Jaffe and Sherwood introduced readers in Washington and beyond to Lillian’s best known contribution to Washington history. In the 1970s, she began writing about what has become widely known as “The Plan.” Jaffe later wrote, “We can thank Lillian Wiggins for first articulating this particular conspiracy theory [as a] columnist for the Washington Afro-American.” Jaffe got some things wrong in that 2010 Washington Examiner article, but the gist of his observation is correct: Lillian did expose many generations of journalists, historians, and sociologists to “The Plan.”

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A Decatur, Georgia, Recap

Professional accomplishments directly resulting from my research in and about Decatur, Georgia, 2011-2023. No, it’s not a game.

September 6, 2023:Decatur Day and the History of Serial Displacement in an Atlanta Suburb.” The Metropole (Urban History Association blog).

April 24, 2023:Our Missing Middle Housing Didn’t Just Go Missing. It Was Torn Down.” Next City.

August 6, 2022: “Heirs, History, and Land: Recovering and Conserving Black Spaces and Stories.” Featured presentation, Shelton Family Settlement at Possum Trot Family Reunion and Historical Marker Unveiling, Berry College, Rome, Georgia. (Delivered remotely.)

July 2022: Agnes Scott College is awarded a $750,000 Mellon Foundation grant to conduct research, community engagement, and develop curriculum on race and racism in Decatur, Ga. The grant application relied on my research; the institution wrote that if the grant is awarded that the college would seek to hire me as a researcher and adjunct professor. It would have been nice if Agnes Scott College had consulted with me prior to using my name and my credentials in the application. Needless to say, I did not collaborate with Agnes Scott College on its project.

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“Mistaken Identities” and murders

Obsessed is probably too strong of a word to describe my interest in the October 1934 turf war among two Washington, D.C. gambling entrepreneurs. But, I have had a very keen interest in the case ever since 2019 when I first read about it while working on the Talbot Avenue Bridge Historic American Engineering Records (HAER) report. It had been nearly four years since my first interviews with an aging Washington, D.C., former journalist had turned me onto the historical significance of numbers gambling. By the time that my research took me to the Takoma Park, Md., driveway where a notorious mob hitman gunned down newspaper employee Allen Wilson, I was hooked.

Indictment in Wilson murder case.

On July 25, I’m continuing the mini-mob-lecture circuit with a talk on racketeering in the D.C. suburbs: “The Numbers Game in the Burbs: Racketeering in Montgomery County.”

The free virtual program covers the history of racketeering and numbers gambling in the D.C. burbs, from the Black gambling entrepreneurs who ran the numbers in rural African American communities throughout the mostly rural suburban county to the white D.C. kingpins who made their homes there to complicate law enforcement efforts to rein them in. The so-called “Mistaken Identity Murder” caps the program as I connect the dots on one of the D.C. area’s most sensational gangland killings.

The alleged hitman, Tony “The Stinger” Cugino, was one of the East Coast’s most feared killers. In my “Squirrel Hill by the Numbers” walking tours, participants visit the site where Cugino allegedly dumped the body of one of the loose ends he cleaned up earlier in 1934 before killing Wilson. With Cugino, it’s always “allegedly” because he never made it to trial, for the Wilson murder or any of the others attributed to him. The official reports were that he hanged himself in 1935 in a New York City jail cell after the police finally caught up with him. By that time he had been suspected in hits all throughout the mid-Atlantic and upper South, including another infamous Montgomery County murder case (the “Chevy Chase Car Barn Murders“) just a few months after Wilson’s “Mistaken Identity Murder.”

Come for the numbers history and stay for the murder!

Baltimore Sun, Oct. 23, 1934.

Beyond the Zoom room

The Silver Spring program is the second of three lectures on racketeering history I’m giving this month. Pittsburghers can drop in on “Cold Storage and Real Luck” at the Lawrenceville Historical Society July 20. There were mobsters on 1500 block of Penn Ave. in Pittsburgh and the story of the city’s giant refrigerator building and Pittsburgh’s most aptly named bar has several good rackets chapters.

On August 1, just a few days before Pittsburgh’s infamous 805 episode‘s 92nd anniversary, I’m speaking to the Moon Township Historical Society. Tony “The Stinger” and his 1934 visit to Pittsburgh may or may not be on the program but lots of Steel City vice will be.

Wanted Poster for Tony “The Stinger” Cugino. United States Postal Inspection Service Bulletin, Oct. 2003.

© 2022 D.S. Rotenstein

Cold Storage and Real Luck

Under every stone (or building foundation) in Pittsburgh there seems to be a mob story. It’s no different in the 1500 block of Penn Avenue in the city’s Strip District. The mob history is what caught my attention around the same time that plans became public to demolish the former Federal Cold Storage Company building popularly known as the “Wholey’s Building” for the giant illuminated fish that dominated one facade. Over the past year i have been documenting the building’s history and the lives of the people who owned it and who worked there. As I watched a demolition carefully deconstruct the walls adjacent to a historic bar, I got interested in the bar’s story, too.

Federal Cold Storage Company building demolition, Feb. 2, 2022.
Federal Cold Storage Company building demolition, Feb. 11, 2022.
Federal Cold Storage Company building demolition viewed from the Hill District.
1519 Penn Ave. Pennsylvania Historical and Museum Commission Historic Resource Survey Form.

Folks can learn more about the cold storage building and the Lucky’s story at a special Lawrenceville Historical Society program Wednesday July 20 at the Carnegie Library on Fisk Street. No more spoilers here. The program is free and open to the public. See you then.

Lawrenceville Historical Society.

Facebook friendly link: https://ivernacular.wordpress.com/2022/07/09/cold-storage-and-real-luck/.

A new Atlanta suburban school

Decatur, Ga., got a new school last week. Sort of: it’s an old city school building with a new name. The City Schools of Decatur voted May 22 to change the name of the city’s only middle school from Renfroe Middle School to Beacon Hill Middle School. The new name went into effect July 1, 2022.

Carl G. Renfroe Middle School, 2018.

A grassroots effort to change the school’s name began in 2020 after I designed a walking tour of Decatur’s erased Black community. The middle school, which is located across the railroad tracks from the former Beacon Community, was one of the stops in the tour created for the 2020 National Council on Public History annual conference (which was cancelled due to the COVID pandemic).

Renfroe Middle School as viewed from across the railroad tracks in 2015.

I conducted the tour intended for the conference virtually and then recreated it several times over the next year for various Decatur community and religious groups. Participants in one of those virtual tours began an online petition to change the school’s name: “Rename Renfroe Middle School To Reflect Decatur Values.”

The petition got more than 700 signatures and the attention of city leaders. In the first paragraph, the petition’s authors cited my walking tour, which included oral history excerpts of people talking about the school’s namesake, Carl Renfroe who was Decatur’s school superintendent between 1959 and 1975.

“Rename Renfroe Middle School To Reflect Decatur Values” petition screen capture.

The petition only cited one of the examples that I used in the walking tour. It was an excerpt of an interview that I had done with a Black man who attended Decatur’s segregated schools (a federal consent decree forced Decatur into compliance years after the 1954 Brown v. Board of Education case).

Decatur Displaced and Erased Walking Tour screen capture, Renfroe Middle School stop.

The complete entry for the walking tour’s storymap was a lot more detailed and it included an excerpt from an interview with a former civil rights and social justice activist who lived in Decatur during Renfroe’s tenure. William Denton taught education at Agnes Scott College and Atlanta University.

Commerce and West Howard
This intersection didn’t exist before the 1960s. It was created during urban renewal when the city of Decatur extended then-Oliver street south to Howard. Visible to the south is carl g. Renfroe middle school. Intersection didn’t exist until urban renewal in 1960s.
This is Decatur’s only middle school. It is named for educator Carl G. Renfroe (1910-2004), who was Decatur’s school superintendent (1959-1975). Despite serving after the Brown v. Board of Education case (1954) Renfroe resisted desegregating city schools and is remembered by residents for racially biased decisions and language.

It was an embarrassing situation for me to be sitting during my graduation and the superintendent of the school system, Carl Renfroe, spoke and commented that evening, “we are proud of our nigras,” you know …“we are proud of our nigras” — R.L, Decatur resident and former trinity high school student, February 2018.

I just have to say that that brought to mind a sense of irony because when we were first there, the superintendent, Renfroe, was of the old school and he did everything he could to keep black and white children separated — William Denton, former Decatur resident and civil rights activist, February 2018.

The interview with Denton was one of several that I did with the former Decatur resident over ten years. Denton is one of a dwindling number of people still living who would know about the inner workings of Decatur city government and its schools. He and his wife Barbara were active in their efforts to bring equity to the city’s school system. They also were among the first generation of 1970s community activists who sought to maintain Decatur’s trajectory towards housing and social equity. For years they were among the leaders of the South Decatur Community Council, the precursor to the contemporary Oakhurst Neighborhood Association.

The Dentons agreed with the city’s decision to change the school’s name. Barbara Denton expanded on our earlier conversations about Renfroe:

Regarding the late-great “Renfroe” Middle School and Carl’s role in maintaining school segregation:  He advised the Board to gerrymander the school zones in the early 70’s in order to maintain maximum segregation.  Bill wrote to him in disagreement.  When he failed to respond, Bill informed federal E.E.O. of this action.  The Decatur distract thus joined about 80 other Georgia distracts under E.E.O. supervision. 

She added that she and her husband attended the school board meeting when the school was named for Renfroe:

We were at the Board meeting when the naming of the new middle school was announced.  Board member Scott Candler looked directly at us and smirked when he saw our jaws drop.  Fait Accompli!  I’ll never believe Renfroe deserves credit for a desegregated middle school.  Given Carl’s history we think its origin lies in the E.E.O. designation as an obstructionist system.

After the petition went live, accusations started flying about the veracity of the allegations against Renfroe, whom the Dentons said vigorously resisted desegregation.

Oakhurst Neighborhood Association Facebook comment attached to a post about the name change petition.

To allay the claims that the oral history comments about Renfroe were unsupported and/or unreliable, here is the video clip played during the virtual walking tours. Perhaps they can assist Decatur residents in complying with the Facebook comment author’s suggestion to “be smart.”

Virtual Decatur walking tour video clip.

© 2022 D.S. Rotenstein

The 1950 Census: Invisible No More

In 2009, I interviewed a woman who spent her first decade of life in a suburban home that her parents bought in the 1930s. The home was located in a residential subdivision that had racially restrictive deed covenants attached to all the homes. African Americans were prohibited from buying or renting homes there.

1940s family photo.

When I interviewed the woman (who is now 78) in the fall of 2009, she told me that her family had a live-in domestic. She only knew the woman’s first name and the nickname that she and her brother called the woman. My oral history collaborator had several family photos that showed the Black woman with the family over several years in the 1940s and early 1950s. But, my collaborator didn’t recall any personal details about the woman who helped raise her.

I exhausted all of the archival records available to me at the time to try and locate the African American woman’s full name and any surviving biographical information about her. I struck out. Everywhere. I had consulted every known resource except for the 1950 U.S. Census population schedules. At the time, they were not scheduled for a public release until April 1, 2022 — today. This morning I got out of bed, let the dogs out, grabbed some coffee and made tea for my wife, and rushed into my office. I fired up my web browser and surfed over to https://1950census.archives.gov/ and typed the family’s name into the search field. A few seconds later, I had the woman’s name I had waited 13 years to learn.

She was invisible (to me) no more.

Stay tuned for more about this journey.

1936 racially restrictive deed covenant for the subdivision where the family lived.

© 2022 D.S. Rotenstein

Entertainment ecosystems and the Chitlin’ Circuit

Pittsburgh’s Wylie Avenue and Washington’s U Street have lots of things in common. They both were Black entertainment hubs and African-American entrepreneurial economic engines in their respective cities’ Black strolls. Memphis author Preston Lauterbach eloquently described “the stroll” in his 2012 book, The Chitlin’ Circuit and the Road to Rock ‘n’ Roll:

Any place with a sizable [Black] population grew a darktown, and each of these [Black] districts centered on a main thoroughfare, a world unto itself. The maestro, in his hep vernacular, called it “the stroll” (p. 51).

But the stroll was only part of a complicated entertainment ecosystem that extended well beyond a city’s corporate limits. Black entertainment entrepreneurs opened satellite facilities in rural communities beyond the earliest suburbs. These places became popular roadhouses and juke joints in the Chitlin’ Circuit with complicated social and economic ties to their counterparts on the stroll.

Bohemian Caverns, U Street and 11th, Washington, D.C.

In 1931, after racial violence broke out at a new Pittsburgh pool, a pair of Hill District entrepreneurs found a partner in Washington, Pa., 30 miles to the south, to open a swimming resort catering to the region’s African Americans. Norris Beach as it was called became a popular Southwestern Pennsylvania stop in the Chitlin’ Circuit with touring national bands stopping to play during the summers that it operated.

The Pittsburgh Courier, May 26, 1934.

Read more about Norris Beach and its entrepreneurs in my new Pittsburgh Quarterly article, Norris Beach: “Swim Where You Will Be Welcomed.”

© 2021 D.S. Rotenstein