The Street

A weekend on “The Street,” without incident, was indeed a rarity. Older citizens of the community labeled “The Street,” “a din of sin.” From Friday (sometimes Thursday) through Sunday, the people played their music loud – blues, they called it, danced in the street, cursed, fought – going from one extreme to the other – all in the name of fun.

Sounds of gunshot in the night was a familiar noise, usually followed by the piercing, mournful cries of devastation from a mother, or a sister, or perhaps a grandmother. Then, inevitably, came the shrill sound of noisy sirens to announce the arrival of police cars; and, in many cases, also an ambulance. And, within any one of the houses, one could hear cursing, “damn it man, hurrup,” and the sound of running feet and other obscenities the runners mouthed as they made desperate, and most times useless, attempts to get away.

Inevitably, there would be loud banging on one of the doors as a self-designated, town crier brought the news, “Ole John Henry Just got kilt,” to which would come the reply, “I knoed he’d git his’n one day – he wuz a bad un, dat John Henry. Who done it?”

The news bearer answered, “Nothuh bad un, Louis White. you know, Bill’s boy, de one dey call Bubba.”

People died young on “The Street.” and they died often. The children of “The Street” were taught there were two things they had to do in life – they had to stay black and they had to die.”

A funny thing about the people of “The Street,” though, they never saw their surroundings as others did. The people were just as happy as if they lived in, what we might call, “country club.” They were neither affected by their impoverished state nor the fact that so many tragedies happened in their community. It seemed they had resigned themselves to a way of life, and they could do no better. This is the story of how one family, with God’s guidance, were able to prove this theory to be wrong.

Spring, 1944. Five o’clock a.m. Sun peeking through the night shades. Birds not up yet, not time. Lugenia Turner hit the floor, her eyes on the old-fashioned clock sitting on the dresser in the bedroom she shared with her husband Luke, and two of their five children. She grabbed the tattered old housecoat which she’d left hanging on the back of a chair, and tied it around her waist. Then she picked up a pan and went out the door to draw water from a hydrant planted in the center of the backyard. Afterward, she gathered a few wood chips and went back into the house to start a fire in the old black wood burning stove.

A half hour later, Lugenia Turner was shaking her husband Luke. “Wake up,” she said, “and come to breakfast.” Lucius Turner got out of bed to the delicious aroma of hot coffee that permeated the whole house. He went into the kitchen where a pan of hot water sat waiting for his use. Afterward. Lugenia, across the table from him, chatted idly while he consumed the hot biscuits, fried sausage, eggs and grits she’d prepared.

She said, “I guess I’ll go and hep Miz Fannie shuck peas today. She bought two bushers off de peddler yestiddy. You know she ain’t got nobody much to hep huh since Janie done ran off wid dat no count Jones boy.”

“Yeah,” Lucius Turner agreed, “Be good you hep huh; she sho is a nice lady, always givin de chillun thangs.”

Lugenia said, “You know ole Miz Sally ain’t doin so good; dey ain’t spectin huh to liv long.” I guess I’ll spen a lil time wid huh today too.” Lucius grunted, “Unhuh,” then getting up from the table, he grabbed his lunch pail, gave Lugenia a quick peck on the cheek and left for work saying, “See ya“, as he went out the door. Lugenia Turner would never see her husband alive again.

Once Lucius was gone, Lugenia began her daily chores. First she got her five children fed and dressed for school. Once they were off, she began her day. It was Friday, payday, and Lugenia didn’t have to cook the usual family meal of beans, which took all day, so she was able to go visiting as she’d told Lucius she would. Once she had the house straightened and in order, she started out on her first errand.

Miss Fannie lived only a short distance away from Miss Sally, so Lugenia changed her mind and decided she’d visit with Miss Sally first. It was very quiet at Miss Sally’s. She was a terribly sick woman, and looking at her, Lugenia knew it was only a matter of time – could be, she thought, any minute.

One of Miss Sally’s sons, John, offered Lugenia a chair saying, “Come on in Lu.” (The front door was open. A rusted, half torn screen door pushed behind her to close.) “Make yosef to home.” John said.

“Okay,” Lugenia answered him, “I’ll jes sit heah a while wid y’all. She don got wurse, huh?”

“Yeah,” John answered. Lugenia could hear the rattling in Miss Sally’s throat and her eyes stared seeing nothing. “Yeah,” John went on, “Won’t be long now.” Lugenia shuddered to think how awful it must be watching and waiting for someone to die – especially someone you know and love.

Another visitor came upon the porch. It was one of the women from the church where both Miss Sally and Lugenia attended. Miss Rena, as she was called. Miss Rena took a seat by the bed, opened her Bible and began to read Scripture to the non-hearing, non-seeing sick woman.

John made a fresh pot of coffee for them, and he and Lugenia sat sipping their coffee as they reminisced about Miss Sally, when she was up and about.

The time passed quickly, and Lugenia realized she had to go if she was going to stop and help Miz Fannie. She said her goodbyes, reminding them, “Now yo knows if’n y’all needs me, jes send somebody fo me and I’ll come.” John reassured her, “We will, Lu, we will. We knows yo is always ready to do sumthin to help anybody.”

Leaving them, Lugenia cut across their yard to Miz Fannie’s, who she found sitting under a tree shelling peas. Miz Fannie called out to Lugenia, “Come ovuh heah gurl and sit wid me a while.”

Lugenia plopped herself down into one of the straw bottomed chairs under the tree and began to help with the peas. Miz Fannie said, “Recon you been to see Miss Sally?” “Yesm,” Lugenia said. “She ain’t doin so good, won be roun much longuh.” “All de chillun done com?” asked Miz Fannie. “Yesm, but de only one theah wuz ole John, and you know he always de firs to come home de minit he gits wurd his momma is sick or sumthin.”

Then, changing the conversation, “Lawd gal,” Miz Fannie went on, “I know you don hurd bout how ole Elner whupped Gladys at de grocy sto yes ditty.” “Nome, I ain’t hurd. Whut don happen’d?” Lugenia asked.

“Well,” Miz Fannie continued, “Don say I tole you, but dey say Elner caut ole Henny wid Gladys at huh hous, and she jes let huh have it. I ain’t seen huh, but dey say she got a black eye.”

Lugenia chuckled, “She shouda got huh. I ketch anybody wid my Luke, an I doan know what I mite do.” The two of them sat there for the longest laughing and talking, gossiping about the things going on in their little community.

Lugenia knew it was getting late. She had to leave so she could beat the children home. And, she had to fry that fish before Luke got home. Once she was home, Lugenia saw to it that the children did their chores. By that time it was 4:30. Luke would be home soon. On Fridays he was always late. He’d get his check cashed; then, he’d always stop at the store and get treats for the children. He knew she loved “sto bot” ice cream, and on Fridays, he always bought her a pint.

The sun had gone down as Lugenia prepared the fish for frying. Her oldest daughter, Maryanne, was cutting up the potatoes. The other five children were running around the house playing hide and seek. Lugenia looked at the old kitchen clock and thought to herself, “Luke ought to be jes bout reddy to turn the conuh now.” It never happened. There came a loud banging on the door followed by, “Miss Lugenia! Miss Lugenia! Yo betta come, sumthin don happun to Mr. Lucius. He don been stabbed!”

All the breath went out of Lugenia, and for a few minutes, she couldn’t move. All she could do was stand with her mouth wide open; her feet feeling like they were weighted down in cement. Seeing her shock, the man shouted again, “Miss Lugenia! Miss Lugenia! Com on! We got to go see bout Mr. Lucious!” He grabbed her hand. The touch of his hand brought her back, and reaching for her purse, Lugenia ran out the door with the children right behind her.

They only had to go a short distance. Lugenia’s heart was heavy. She just knew her Luke was dead! She knew it! At the scene, her worst fears proved true. Lucious Turner, lying face down in a puddle of his own blood was dead. Lugenia knelt beside him. Somehow she managed to turn him over, and cradling him in her arms, she cried, loud, pitiful, heartbroken sobs, asking over and over again, “How cud dis happun? Who wud won to kill my Luke?” The children were crying equally as hard.

The police and the ambulance arrived at the same time. The ambulance took the body; and Lugenia was allowed to ride in the front seat with the driver, but the police stayed behind to ask questions.

“You,” one of the policemen motioned to an onlooker, “Did you see what happened heah?” The tall black man answered “No suh, I didn see nuthin.” Exasperated, the policeman asked pointedly, “Did anybody see anything?” No answer. The policeman walked away shaking his head. As he got into the police car, the people heard him say, “Just anothuh dead niggah.”

Who killed Lucius Turner? The question rang throughout the whole neighborhood. One person finally spoke up; of course, not within earshot of the policemen. “It was ole Sidnee Jones. I seed him do it. Firs he was talkin to Luke, and Luke, he seem lak he wuz ignoin him. Luke, he jes kep on walkin. Den ole Sidnee came upon him an sed sumthin. Luke, he tuned round, and sed sumthin back, an befoe I knew whut wuz happun’n, ole Sidnee had whupped out his knife an he stabbed Luke. An dat’s jes how it wuz.”

This information was reported to the police. The eyewitness repeated his statement, but there was never an investigation. The police never visited Lugenia – never talked to her. The killer was allowed to go free – to possibly kill again. But, everybody knew, black and white, that Lucius Turner was indeed, “Just another dead niggah.”

And, nobody seemed to care – that is nobody but Lugenia Turner and her children. After the funeral she tried to go with her life. She took care of her children as best as she could. Lucius had a small life insurance policy which paid for his burial and a few hundred dollars left over. There was, of course, no other income, so Lugenia had to get work. In 1944 the only work for a black woman in the south, was that of maid, cook, or work in the cotton fields.

Lugenia went to work in a private home as maid and cook. Her weekly salary was $5.00 and with this she managed to eek out a paltry living for herself and her five children. But, in the midst of every tragedy, there can still be blessings. The family she worked for had children the same ages of hers, and they would pass their children’s clothing and toys down to her..

Lugenia cried a lot, but she also prayed a lot. Her load was heavy. Grief for her husband had almost consumed her. Yet, she tried, as best as she could, to go on with her life. She continued to visit the sick and give of herself as she always had, but her heart was no longer in it.

Too, Lugenia had always been a great worker in the church. To her many friends there was no doubt that she was a Christian in the truest sense of the word. In fact, Lugenia would stand boldly and declare her faith whenever the opportunity presented itself. But now, she began to doubt even that, try as she might to keep it in mind. Jesus’ words, “And lo, I will be with you always,” now gave her no peace. The void in her life was tearing her to pieces.

Then came the night Lugenia accepted one of many invitations to a party. At that party she took her first drink. She liked the way the drink made her feel, so she took another, and another, and another. For the first time in her life, Lugenia Turner was drunk! And worse, she allowed the man, who had given her the drinks, to escort her home. At her door the man grabbed her and kissed her. And she, floating, more from the liquor than from anything else, allowed the man to come into her house.

From that point on, Lugenia Turner’s life was on a downhill course. She couldn’t forget Lucius, and she couldn’t forgive herself for what she was doing to herself and her children. Worse, she felt too unworthy to ask God to forgive her and to help her. As a result, Lugenia sank deeper and deeper into the pit.

On top of that, the people of “The Street” and her church just didn’t seem to care. It just didn’t seem to matter to them that their dear friend, neighbor, and member of their church seemed to be at her wits end.

Whatever a person was or wasn’t, on “The Street,“ it was expected and accepted. If they managed to overcome The Street, it was fine, but no big thing. By the same token, if not, then that was fine too. So be it, whatever.

Many had taken the stand that “Whatever’s bad inside of you, “The Street,” will bring it out.” In a one on one conversation you might hear, “Aw man, yo ain’t no diffrunt from nobody els.“

Still, they gossiped about Lugenia. It seemed that if they kept their eyes on Lugenia and how bad she was doing. They wouldn’t see their own desperate situation.

And, Lugenia, in her pitiful state, didn’t have a chance. She became the town drunk. Those who had once sang her praises; who professed to love and respect her, now avoided her. Lugenia felt she no longer had anything to live for. “The Street” had her. In 1946, almost two years from the day Lucius Turner was killed, Lugenia Turner died. She drank herself to death.

A tragedy! Yes! But, out of every tragedy, can come blessings. All of the children were adopted and taken away to another town, another environment. Most important, they were introduced to the Word of God. And, in His Word (Joshua 1:8) He says, “This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate in it day and night, that you may observe to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success.” How do I know they used the Word of God as their guide? They’re always ready to tell anyone who’ll listen, “If it had not been for the Lord on my side…..” Very often we read of their accomplishments as adults. One child became a teacher, one a minister, another a doctor, another godly mother and housewife; another, a godly husband and father. When we hear of their successes, all we can do is shake our head in awe.

A dear friend often quotes to me something that has been said to her, “You can’t get pass your mind.” These words are very true; but, we have help. Our minds, so the Book of Romans, chapter 12, can be renewed. How? You might ask. The Book of Proverbs, chapter 3 gives us the answer: “Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths“

We only need to apply these Scriptures, never forgetting our support system, Jesus Christ, who said in Matthew 28, “And lo, I will be with you always.” Like words to different people in a different time; but, you know what, in this, another time – our time – He’s always with us too!