Mattie Alderson Harville

No story about the Harlans is complete without the story of Mattie and all that she added to the lives of these Harlans. That 'all' can never be totally accounted nor repaid.

Of course one of the first things which C. Allen did was take his bride south to meet his family. Then I met Mattie. It was at a later trip that Mattie asked Mr. Allen to help her out of a sad situation. She had married an older man who, each time that she managed to save enough money to buy a bit of live-stock, very important for anyone living in a rural situation, would take the animal, sell it and spend the money on liquor. There may have been other problems; but I have no certain knowledge. She wanted out and going north seemed like the only possible escape for she was certain that Alderson would not follow her. C. Allen hesitated, but finally into the car with her small bit of baggage - personal things only, and she left Columbia - to try a new life. Needless to say, Alderson didn't follow her. We tried years later to legalize the situation through a divorce. It took longer than seemed necessary; C. Allen was convinced that the lawyer took her money and dwaddled, he being a southern white and she being black. Everything was eventually worked out for Mattie remarried. (I am certain that 'dwaddled' is one of my words since I do not find it in any of my dictionaries. It means as it sounds: slowly and erratically doing/moving.)

We were living at that time in the little house on Forrer; there were only two bedrooms. C. Allen built walls and made a small room for her in the basement which would be both warm and dry. It may have seemed better than what she had left for, at least, her major problem was still back in Tennessee. John was two and Campbell one at that time. Allen's income wasn't too outstanding then but I gave her what I could, considering that we still had mortgage payments to make. Soon Sylvia was on her way to join us.

Sylvia was born in June of 1937. We bought the cottage on Lake Orion in October of that year; we spent a week there with the winds and the chills of October weather. Sylvia died at the beginning of December. That was a trying start for Mattie and the Harlans. For weeks after the baby's death, Mattie would stop her work to tell me that she had heard the baby cry; it was feeding time and I, too, was responding to the same impulse. Memory does strange things to one's heart. We sent her home for a vacation late in December. We all needed a change.

She went home to try all her new experiences on her family. "Miss Ivabell had not had the same entree for any two meals in a row for a month and now try these bran muffins which she, Mattie, had learned to bake in the north." Her sister Virginia had to remind Mattie that the stove needed fuel; she had become accustomed, in a short time, to the ways of a gas stove. When she returned to begin again her new life, there was no one in the little house on Forrer. We had bought a house in Birmingham; just simply packed up and left. I knew that she would immediately go to my Mother's just down the street to find out what had happened. C. Allen was called and he came to pick her up, take her out to the new house and the new life. I had been hard at work to get the new place in good shape before she came. "Welcome home, Mattie, we have missed you."

In the house on Pilgrim she had a room and a bath to herself - unusual luxury for all of us. Between three parts of the year in Birmingham and the summers at Lake Orion, we all enjoyed the passing days. There were patterns to our lives which varied little; there was contentment. Grandmother Harlan came up for a visit at the Lake. Grandmother Harlan enjoyed the country music, (primitive then and nasal), on the radio Mattie listened to the Tigers' ball games; and I yearned for another kind of entertainment. We managed to hear them all. To the little community at the Lake, Mattie was part of the Harlan family and treated as such. We shared. One time with Mattie's birthday coming, plans were made and action was taken. I wrote to her mother in Tennessee, sent a ticket and talked with the Travelers Aid. Then at the proper time, C. Allen met her sister, Clara, and brought her out to the cottage. That was one secret that we managed to keep; Mattie had not suspected what was afoot. She just sat and rocked and beamed. I do not remember how long Clara stayed that summer; (Clara tells me that she stayed all summer until school was to start in the fall). Older, Clara returned to Michigan. C. Allen wanted to send her on to college for she would have made an excellent teacher. But Clara was young, met William White and that was that. I still hear from Clara; the years have turned us both gray; memories still tie us together.

This family of five traveled together and always we tried to protect Mattie from any possible rebuffs. She went with us on the lake cruise ship; we stayed at the Grand Hotel; we took our meals together. At that place no one complained about our mix of dark and light for there was always the cover that she was nurse to the children. It made life much easier for me and gave her a chance to see things which she, otherwise, would not have seen. We drove with her back to Tennessee. Once we stopped for lunch at Norris Dam and were rebuffed; I had not expected that on federal land, but I did not know then the workings of the Southern mind. I possibly should have for C. Allen and I had had our differences about his point of view and mine. Still, because we loved her and because she made such a great contribution to our lives, it did not close Mattie out of all that we were able to share and enjoy with her.

The first four years on Pilgrim were good years. C. Allen started his own business; Joyce was born; and then Allen dropped his big bomb - he had enlisted in the Navy. One of Mattie's brothers had been drafted and she was itching to get into the war work in the factories. Now was the time for many changes; Mattie went to work in Pontiac, and the family went west to Bremerton. We all knew that she would receive better pay than I could give her. We all missed her. There was no turning back. After the war when we had returned to Birmingham and Mattie, a factory worker then, became aware that the continuing strikes at the plant brought her potential yearly wages down to about what I could pay; she came back to live with the family. There is only one great problem with becoming involved with a family's life: attachments grow. Good? Bad? How could you do without?

Mattie returned for a while. A strike would begin; a strike would end. She was home with us at the time that young Allen was born. I took her down to see her first grandson. It was quite a trip;Lois Sloan went with us and we were both, Mattie and I, glad to have her along. The first thing that we did for young Allen was rescue him from his mother, his father and his grandmother. He had a problem common to any recent born who are bottle-fed. Lois, Mattie and I knew the cause, the cure and we acted; the problem ended. I wonder how the baby slept that night; I wonder how they all slept; I wonder if they ever used our cure again. Campbell led us through the Long Island maze to a motel in the vicinity of the LaGuardia airport (I am certain that it would be a more amazing maze today) where we booked two rooms. The porter went ahead to show us the way. Lois got out of the right door of the car; I out of the left; and Mattie came out of the back seat. Then it was that the horns blared, the angels sang, and the whole world rose up with hosannahs. Mattie said that she had a hard time getting rid of that fellow; those moments rather lifted her ego. Over all it was a good visit.

Life simmered down to a steady pace - we moved again. This time to 3535. The house had been abuilding for over a year; Mattie was with us; Mattie was not. Mattie's health was up; Mattie's health was not. But, when it came time to take Joyce's necessaries to California where she was to teach, Mattie was invited to come; she went along. It was just as important to her to see where her child was to live and work as it had been to go to New York to see small Allen. This time Lois Sloan, Jeanne and Mattie and I took to the road in my Pontiac. Joyce drove her little Corvair. Once again we buffered Mattie in and out of restaurants; but after we had crossed the Mississippi there were no problems. I never did have any problems making room arrangements. We all knew that this was her one chance to see this part of our world.

Gregory Marshall Scott arrived at Boonton, New Jersey; Mattie and I headed east. John Scott brought Joyce and the baby home from the hospital. I left for Washington, Baltimore, where ever to pick up C. Allen and take him with me to Lake Mohawk to see his latest grandson. This time we left Mattie behind us to care for her princess and the latest and the smallest of the Harlan (Scott) family. Mattie was well experienced in handling babies; most of her youth had been spent taking care of her own siblings when they were small.

We had helped Mattie and Sidney Harville buy a house in Pontiac. Those were declining years for the two of them. He died and then Mattie was moved to a house next door to her sister Virginia. All of us, Virginia, Clara and I helped furnish that new home. It was home for only a few years before Mattie died on the twenty-fourth of June, 1968.

Finally, on the sixteenth of July, her sister, Virginia Smoot, was able to write; I copy:

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Harlan and Family:

Thank you so much for your friendship, love, understanding and concern for my dear sister Mattie. I doubt if you can realize how much this has meant to me. I loved Mattie so, and always wanted her to be happy and enjoy some of the pleasures of life.

The last few years of her life when you took such great interest in her, to show your appreciation of her meant a great deal to her.

The trip to California, when she was so ill, you will never knowhow I worried about her and wasn't really sure she could make the trip there and back. My only encouragement was that she was with you, her friends who loved her too. That trip seemed to give Mattie a new lease on life.

The trip to New York and to visit Joyce in New Jersey meant so much to her. They were things which we could not afford to give her. I am forever grateful. Thank you so much.........."

(It was only during those last few years that I, personally, had the opportunity and the means to do the things which we did; my privileges and economy were controlled and restricted.)

Then Virginia went on to write of closing Mattie's house. Maybe she did not know that that is the most difficult part of a death; during the immediate days you are sustained by the pressure of family activities around you. At the time of disposing of the trivia of a life, you are alone with all of your memories.

Mattie gave from the bounty of her affection. She was part of the cottage community; all of the children obeyed her with no question; neighbors on Pilgrim came to warn me to keep her home at the time of the riots in Detroit. Where ever she was she was respected. At our house she was never 'the maid' but always 'the other mother'.

Those of us who were privileged to live with her will always miss her. She left behind a living memory of the person who gave of all that she had - herself.