Back in the fifties, newspapers published a lot of special-interest stories. Maybe I should say “of little interest” – stories like bridal showers and the hiring of a new employee at the YWCA.
Nonetheless, I was scheduled to have my picture taken and a story written about my new job by the Charlotte Observer.
I arrived at work the day of my appointment with terribly swollen, infected eyes from swimming in a farm pond. Not my best look. The director took one look at me and said, “Postpone.”
When I took the job, I stayed a couple of weeks in the YWCA residence, which means I rented a bedroom at the Y. This was very popular for the YWs and YMs at the time, and is still offered in some areas.
The director of the teenage program at the Y, Laurice, was a young woman ten days older than me. She was looking for a housemate. Knowing this was probably not a good idea, I moved into her two-bedroom rented duplex within walking distance from the Y. None of us thought of owning a car!
She already shared her bedroom with a roommate, but it took three to cover the cost. I was very happy living there, and we worked well together. She was from Hollywood, California, and taught me many things about life!
Our job was to develop Y Teen Clubs in the junior high and high schools throughout the Charlotte area. Teachers were selected to work with each club, and we worked with them and gave support. The clubs offered thoughtful programs on personal development, good grooming, and ways for teens to widen their thinking. We planned citywide events like dances, seminars, and weekend camping. Great fun! Those dear girls are now in their late 80s! Laurice left after the first year, and I became the director.
Anybody still alive who used to be a Y teen?
There was a separate YWCA in Charlotte at the time for Black women that also sponsored the Y Teen program. Because segregation was becoming a big issue in 1954, and change was in the air, I wanted the girls to get to know each other, because they would soon be going to school together. We planned a joint weekend retreat for the girls at the two Ys at a local camp. The father of one of the girls didn’t like the idea and wrote an editorial for the Charlotte Observer calling me a Communistic and a Fifth-Columnist. Back then I didn’t know what that meant.
Anyway, we had our retreat. Sweet friends were made that I imagine were never forgotten.
Since Laurice, her other roomate, Fran, and I were of courting interest and age, there were men around and we stayed pretty busy. For some reason I had to call one of the Observer reporters on his home phone regarding some publicity for the Y. I had to leave a message with someone for him, but that message was seen by another man, named Gill, who lived in the same boarding house as the reporter. Gill was my former longtime Clemson boyfriend who thought I had called him and was happy to find us both in Charlotte. He just happened to have a friend for Laurice! That friend ended up proposing to me on Gill’s behalf. Just think, I could have ended up living in Ohio all these years, as Gill soon took a job there. No Blythewood!
As part of this quest for romance, we talked the Y Adult Program director into having a dance for young adults on Valentine’s Day. We hired a popular band and had a nice turnout. One person who attended was an Associated Press reporter from Boston, who changed my life in many ways and forever. The first thing he said to me when we danced was, “I bet you have long brown legs.” No Southern boy had ever said such a thing to me, and I am still not sure what it meant. But I should have known I was in trouble. We were married two years later.
During my career at the Y, I learned to work hard and to live on my own, manage my money, and take care of myself. I gained a lot of self-confidence in those years.
No one gives that to you. You have to earn it.
Jeanette Smith, 95, a Blythewood resident, has been active in the community’s civic affairs for over 50 years.