Each Makes A Mark In His or Her Way

Black History Month ought to be a time when we look back, see who did what, and try to implement that into the future. The name is bland, like something we’d see on a billboard going over a bridge or through a tunnel. To bring the real worth to this month, I started to think about some folks who touched my life, brief though those times might have been. Each added something unique and unforgettable. I respect each one of them.
There were teachers: John Roberson, who taught physical education and was a basketball coach, Carl O. Baker, industrial arts and mechanical drawing and baseball coach, and Audrey Spaulding, who inspired eighth graders to read.
There was David Schuler, a house mover, whom I got to know through my father, and his grandson, Burgess “Butch” Hamer. Hamer, current president of Middle Township AARP chapter, (it can’t possibly be THAT many years…) is a retired Middle Township police officer who, through his karate school, has touched the lives of hundreds, if not thousands of young people, showing them the straight path is the best one.
True, the examples set early in life last forever; I can remember my father saying that Schuler was “Straight as an arrow.” The man was good as his word, honest and always had a ready smile. Some of the earliest recollections I have of Butch was of him in the cab of the truck moving houses down the highway, just a lad, but doing the work of a man.
In back of our house was Edmond’s Hand Laundry. Honestly, I never got to know their names other than Mr. and Mrs. Edmonds. His light blue panel truck would deliver laundry around town and to Stone Harbor. Their work crew would wash, by hand, shirts and sheets and whatever. Then, they would hang them out to dry in the backyard. Once that was done, they would iron them, stiff as a board, ready for wear.
Across the street from the laundry on Pacific Avenue lived Beulah Nichols, whose husband Nick was a chauffeur for a wealthy family in the township. She was a domestic for a Stone Harbor family, and maintained a spotless house.
On the corner of Route 9 and Pacific Avenue was Amanda Gale, a seamstress, who did alterations on clothes that either were too big or too small.
As some teachers do, it was Baker who made the longest lasting, deepest impression. Not only did he love baseball, but he was a strict but fair teacher of mechanical drawing. His students knew sloppy work had no chance of being considered under his scrutiny. As we drew, with T-square and angles, our designs of screws and other such things, we were careful to connect all the lines, make letters perfect, erase all the mistakes.
His indelible words etched to this day are “Read the book.” This teen, seeking a quick answer, would approach him, timidly ask the question, knowing his ready reply, “Did you read the book? The answer’s in the book if you read it.” He was right. The answer was in the book.
Baker was about good works. He was the inspiration of many, including some who followed his example as a teacher, being able to touch the lives of even more young people.
Another outstanding member of the Middle Township community was Dr. James Calloway, a dentist. Aside from being a fine dentist, he served on the school board for many years. One thing that impressed me about him, aside from all his professional abilities, was that he drove the same immaculate black Mercedes-Benz sedan for what seemed forever.
If all politics is local, then all history must also be local. Thinking of those earlier days, not only in Middle Township, but in every other municipality in the county, there were small businesses owned and operated by African Americans. Each of them served not only the community, but employed a few people, gave jobs to some, but also offered a mentoring place where young people would see what it was like to be in business, to take responsibility, to become an active member of their society.
If there is anything to be learned, it is that we need more of those small, entrepreneurial businesses owned and operated by African Americans. I know the business climate is brutal, but there are niches today to be filled, just as there was in the 1950s and 1960s.
It would certainly be terrific to report next Black History Month that a dozen new, black-owned businesses had opened and were thriving in Cape May County, perhaps filling some of those old-time needs, like alterations and sewing, or body and fender repair and other service-related endeavors.
Each of the folks mentioned here made an impression on me. It was their collective attitude to be open and give of what they possessed to the next generation. In turn, that generation remembers and will pass on to the next lessons of life. If we don’t look back and learn from history there isn’t a great hope for tomorrow.