AFTERWORD

ALTHOUGH BUD, NOT BLIDDY is fictional, many of the situations Bud
encounters are based on events that occurred in the 1930s, during a time known
as the Great Depression. And although the characters in BUD Not Buddy are
fictional as well, some of them too are based on real people. One of the most
enjoyable parts of writing is that an author can combine his or her imagination
with the traits of real people to build new characters. That is what I did to
create the characters of Lefty Lewis and Herman E. Calloway, both of whom
are based loosely on my grandfathers.

My mother's father, Earl "Lefty" Lewis, was one of six or seven redcaps who
worked at the train station in Grand Rapids. Michigan, during much of the
depression. The jobs of Pullman porter and redcap were among the few open to
African American men at that time and carried a certain prestige in the black
community. Nonetheless, they were extremely difficult jobs, often marked by
eighty-hour workweeks, low salary and virtually no job security. These men
could be fired for simply not looking happy enough.

Grandpa Lewis did exceptionally well during the depression, supporting his
family on the tips he received as a redcap. My mother remembers that my
grandmother used to have to sew reinforced linings into the pockets of all
Grandpa's pants because the weight of the pennies, nickels, dimes and
occasional quarters that he was given as tips would eventually rip the seams
out. She also remembers the leathery texture Grandpa's hands took on from
carrying so much baggage at the station.

As the depression deepened, the Grand Rapids train station cut back to two
redcaps, and Grandpa was let go. He briefly opened a small restaurant and
finally became the first African American cabdriver in Grand Rapids, a job he
held until his retirement in 1972 at seventy-four years old.

Earl "Lefty" Lewis also pitched for many years in the miners of the Negro
Baseball Leagues. His fondest memory of that time was pitching twice against
Satchel Paige. As he did with most opposing pitchers, Satch hung Grandpa with
two losses.

My father's father, Herman E. Curtis, was indeed a big bandleader for most of
his adult life. He headed many different musical groups, my favorite being Herman
E. Curtis and the Dusky Devastators of the Depression!!!!!! --a name that
by itself deserves all six of those exclamation points! Grandpa attended the
Indiana Conservatory of Music and was a classically trained violinist. He also
played the bass fiddle, the accordion and the piano.

Entertainment was an important part of life during the depression, for people
wanted to forget their troubles by going to the movies, sitting around the radio,
and listening and dancing to live music. Grandpa and his bands were well
known throughout Michigan during this time. Being an orchestra leader was
Grandpa Curtis's night time job. By day he wore many different hats, among
them those of a chauffeur, boat captain, and truck painter. He owned several
businesses in Grand Rapids and Wyoming, -Michigan, at a time when laws
prohibited African Americans from renting or holding title to land in these two
cities. Grandpa did this by having a white friend put his name on all records.

The flexibility, people skills, hustle and willingness to work around unfair laws
and situations that both of my grandfathers used allowed them to keep their
families together during one of America's bleakest periods, a time that was
especially hard on African Americans. Both of these men were fortunate and
skilled enough to avoid the brunt of the Great Depression.

The lives of Earl "Lefty" Lewis and Herman E. Curtis and the situations
described in Bud Not Buddy are the exception, for the great majority of people
suffered horribly during the period between 1929 and 1941. Parents often could
not feed their children, so countless thousands of young people, some as young
as eight years old, were abandoned or had to set out on their own in search of a
meal and a warm place to sleep. These children survived the brutal life on the
road by riding the rails, picking fruit, doing odd jobs, begging, stealing or
whatever was necessary to get food.

Much of what I discovered about the depression I learned through research in
books, which is a shame--I didn't take advantage of the family history that
surrounded me for many years. I'm afraid that when I was younger and my
grandparents and parents would start to talk about their lives during the
depression, my eyes would glaze over and I'd think, "Oh, no, not those boring
tall tales again!" and I'd find the most convenient excuse I could to get away
from them.

 

Now I feel a real sorrow when I think of all the knowledge, wisdom
and stories that have been forever lost with the deaths of my grandparents.
Be smarter than I was: Go talk to Grandma and Grandpa, Mom and Dad and
other relatives and friends. Discover and remember what they have to say about
what they learned growing up. By keeping their stories alive you make them,
and yourself, immortal.

END OF BOOK