Rindeetta Stewart Inverview

Robert Franklin: My name is Robert Franklin and I’m conducting an oral history with Rindetta Stewart on July 9th 2024. The
interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Rindetta about her
experiences living in the Tri-Cities, and for the record, can you state and spell your full legal name for us.
Rindetta Stewart: R-I-N-D-E-T-T-A. Middle name, D-E-L-A-N-C-Y. Last name, Stewart, S-T-E-W-A-R-T.
Franklin: Great. Quick background before we get started, did you ever work at the Hanford site?
Stewart: Yes I did.
Franklin: Okay.
Stewart: For Battelle Northwest.
Franklin: Okay, great. Let’s start before that. Where in—the story of your life beforehand—where in and when were you born,
and where did you live before coming to Tri-Cities?
Stewart: I lived in Yakima before coming to the Tri-Cities. But if you want to know where I was born, I was born in Altheimer, AL-
T-H-E-I-M-E-R, Arkansas. And I’m a child of parents who were part of the Great Southern Migration from the South to the North.
Franklin: And where did your parents migrate to?
Stewart: My parents migrated from Arkansas to Tacoma, and from Tacoma my mother worked at Hanford. Prior to her working at
Hanford, her father worked at Hanford when they were building buildings at Hanford to get ready to build the atomic energy
bomb.
Franklin: So this was during the Manhattan Project?
Stewart: Yes—
Franklin: They were a part of the World War II migration.
Stewart: Yes. He was recruited by DuPont to come out west, and so he came to Hanford and worked there.
Franklin: What do you know if anything about his job and his work experience at the Hanford site?
Stewart: He was like a construction worker. At that particular time, there were hardly any grocery stores or department stores
and so they would have to travel into Pasco for their supplies. But he also earned money on the side by doing laundry for the
workers and cooking, he was a great cook. So he made extra money and with the extra money, he would send it back to Arkansas
to my grandmother so she could build a brand new home.
Franklin: And this is your mothers, fathers?
Stewart: Fathers, yes.
Franklin: What did your mother do at Hanford?
Stewart: My mother worked with my grandfather, and I'm not exactly sure what she did. I don’t know if she helped with the
cooking or whatever, but she was there for a while. When she first came from Arkansas she stayed in Tacoma and he decided—or
she decided that going to Hanford they would make more money than living in Tacoma because DuPont was paying a fairly
decent wage at that time.
Franklin: Yes. They were forced to pay equal wages to whites and blacks for the same work.
Stewart: Right.
Franklin: Do you know how long they stayed at Hanford?
Stewart: My grandfather I believe was there from 1942 until the early 50s. Yes. He decided not to live here because he would
have a large family to bring. And once people who had been recruited by DuPont had finished the jobs they’d been recruited for,
they used to call it the wind that would blow them into East Pasco. And that became the segregated part from living in Hanford,
to go to East Pasco. That’s how East Pasco was formulated, basically out of workers who had been brought south to help build
Hanford.
Franklin: Right. Black workers.
Stewart: Black workers, yes.
Franklin: Right. Did your grandfather ever talk about the racial environment of Hanford or the Tri-Cities?
Stewart: No, he did not. I believe that was because he was born and reared in the south. That was not a thing you can approach
white people about in the South. And so when he came north, he would work with white people or do what he had to do, but he
did not talk about it. But my mother, my mother talked about it to the point where before she left Arkansas, she left us with her
mother, my brother, and sister, and I. And when she was at Hanford and in Tacoma, she said it was a better place to live
because if she stayed in the South, she would probably get killed because she was very outspoken about how she was treated as a
black woman. She said she was not going to scrub and clean houses all of her life. So we stayed with my grandmother a few
years. I can’t remember how many years, but when she got settled she came back and brought us north. We were in that
migration. I can’t remember clearly, when we were on the train coming north, when the Pullman porter announced on the train,
he said we have now crossed the Mason-Dixon line and now all of you colored’s can go eat in the dining room. It was a segregated
car where you had to sit, and of course people brought food with them to sit in that segregated car. I remember crossing the
Mason-Dixon Line, it was interesting and I was just about 11 years old at that time.
Franklin: What a powerful, yet arbitrary force.
Stewart: That’s right, that’s right.
Franklin: So where did your mother bring you when you first came North? Was it to Hanford?
Stewart: Yakima, Washington.
Franklin: What drew your mother to Yakima?
Stewart: What brought my mother to Yakima?
Franklin: Yes, yeah.
Stewart: She met this fine man that I call my dad and she got married. And when she got married, she came and got her
children.
Franklin: Okay, and he lived in Yakima?
Stewart: He lived in Yakima.
Franklin: What first struck you about the differences between Altheimer and Yakima when you first got there?
Stewart: Altheimer was all-black. We went—I went to school to school those first few years. I started school when I was first 4
years old, I was in first grade. Because all the children that would walk past our house every morning, I wanted to know where
they were going and they said they were going to school. I would cry if my mom wouldn’t let me go with them. So finally the
teacher said, oh yeah send her on. So I went to the first grade in Altheimer. Then when we moved to Yakima, I went to Barge,
and now it's Barge-Lincoln I believe. It was interesting because the classroom was full of white kids. They would look at us, and
we would look at them. And we didn’t say anything because we had not been accustomed to doing that thing growing up in the
South. While we were at Barge at that time, they would give us a goiter pill every day. Everyone had to take a goiter pill. After a
while on the playground and doing double dutch jump rope, all the kids could do that. That’s how we began to mix slowly with
white children. My sister had a lot of fear about being around white folks. I'm not sure where my fear came in or if it ever did.
My brother was small enough where I don’t know if he was ever fearful or not, but there were things about white folks that were
very different to us.
Franklin: What’s the age range of your siblings? How much older or younger are they than you?
Stewart: My brother passed away when he was 77 years old. My sister is now 87. And I am a little past 89.
Franklin: So you are the oldest of the—
Stewart: I am the eldest of all of them, but I had a sister who died before I did.
Franklin: So do you remember what year you came to Yakima?
Stewart: We came to Yakima in 1946.
Franklin: So right after the war?
Stewart: Mhm.
Franklin: What did your mother and the man you call your father, what do they do and where do they work?
Stewart; When we came to Yakima, my father worked in a restaurant that is on Front Street. I think that is where the mission is
now, but there was a restaurant there where blacks could go and it was called The Base Hit Cafe. One of them was called The
Base Hit Cafe and I can’t remember what the name of the other one was. My mother was a waitress at another restaurant for
Greek gentlemen, Mr. Papantus. So they both worked on Front Street as cooks and waiters.
Franklin: In the service industry?
Stewart: Mhm.
Franklin: Oh, I wanted to back up. What was your grandfather that worked at Hanford, what was his name?
Stewart: William Robinson.
Franklin: William Robinson?
Stewart: Mhm.
Franklin: And what was your mothers name?
Stewart: Montzella, M-O-N-T-Z-E-L-L-A.
Franklin: Same last name, Robinson or—
Stewart: Yes. My mother was Delancy, my grandfather was Robinson.
Franklin: Oh, your mothers last name was Delancy?
Stewart: My mothers last name was Delancy. She and my father divorced because my father did not want to come west or
whatever. There was a time when I was growing up that young people were not involved in adult conversation. [LAUGHTER].
Franklin: That still exists in some ways.
Stewart: Yes it does.
Franklin: You mentioned a little bit about the school. What was the racial environment like in Yakima in 1946, when you got
there. What did you experience? Did you ever hear your parents talking about anything regarding the racial environment?
Stewart: My mother was quick to let us know that we were in the North and if white people tried to insult us, we had a right to
respond to them. And that just because what they may call you, that is not what you are. You are just as important as they are
and we heard that all the time. In grade school, I had a good grade school teacher. I don’t know if she was Italian or not, but at
that time we used to have our hair braided and we would wear ribbons. We call them bow ribbons because you tie the ribbon on
your hair. We would go to school like that and I can remember one kid trying to dip the ribbon in the inkwell. The desk used to
have inkwells on them and you had pens that you’d learn cursive writing, which is not taught anymore. In grade school, it was
fine. In middle school, I went to Washington Junior High, which is now Washington Middle School. It was really a lot of racial slurs
going on all the time. It was with students, it was basically students. Teachers, they would say things but it wasn’t quite a slur. It
was a, “I hope you colored kids are keeping up with everybody else.” That was at Washington Middle School. I can remember we
had an earthquake and I was in choir. We were standing on risers and you’d stand on the risers, and the lights were swaying forth
and back. Our music teacher says, “ohh everybody sing So Well, everybody sing So Well.” I think it was Mrs. Curtis. She said, “I
want you colored kids to sing just hard, like your people know how to sing, your people know how to sing.” So we went home to
tell mother about that and my dad. She said “what?” and my dad said “I hope I don’t have to go to that school to talk to her.” He
said “people who sing, sang, and that didn’t have to do anything with how you look.” Then from there, I went to Yakima High
School, now Davis. And that was really an awful time because I was a teenager, there were not young black men in my class. You
know you want to date somebody. Kids are always dating and writing little notes and stuff. It was not a lot of that going on. I had
a recruiter from the Army that came to our school on certain days, trying to recruit kids when they graduated from high school.
And so I was interested in that. I thought “gee, Army, that sounds good” because he had given this long speech about what you
could do and what you could learn. You could go on and get a higher education with what the pay was and that sounds good.
When it came my turn to be interviewed by him, he sat and went through the interview and he told me “I’m so sorry.” He said,
“you could never be in the Army because we don’t have skirts long enough for you, so I have to turn you down.” Then at that
time, and I think they still call them counselors in high schools, Mrs. Becar, Alma Becar—I think her picture is still hanging in the
hallways at Davis. She said to me when I was getting ready to graduate, she said “you've been such a nice girl.” She called me
into her office, “you’ve been such a nice girl, and you’re always clean and you smell good every day you come to school and
when you graduate from high school,” she said “our farmers like smart colored girls and I’m going to get you a job when you
graduate, working for the best apple growing family in the Yakima valley.” That was the kind of counseling I got in high school.
Franklin: Wow what a prize.
Stewart: Pardon?
Franklin: I said, wow what a prize.
Stewart: Yeah, that was it. My father became angry. I had a social studies teacher, Mr. Sebastian, he decided that he needed to
deal with slavery. “Let’s just talk about slavery, we got somebody in here that just looks like the slaves.” He had a large family
because when he wore his shoes, his toe was coming out of the top of his shoes. He said “and those slaves that didn’t want to
stay in their place, we’ve got to keep those kinds of people in their place no matter how old you get, keep them in their place.
These colored people will take over if you don’t keep them in their place. You see them picking cotton, see them? They’re
picking cotton. They’re doing what they’re told to be doing. That’s what they ought to do.” Social studies in high school, getting
ready to graduate.
Franklin: Yeah.
Stewart: Mhm. Mr. Sebastian.
Franklin: Not surprised.
Stewart: No, no. When I left high school, I went to YVC. I got a couple of scholarships from two black women's clubs and went to
YVC. And I got married while I was at YVC.
Franklin: Who was that to?
Stewart: That was to Herb Jones.
Franklin: Herb Jones. So that’s where he—
Stewart: Herb Jones Sr. Mhm. Or Herbert Jones, Herbert A. Jones Sr.
Franklin: How did you two come to the Tri-Cities areas?
Stewart: How did I come to the Tri-Cities area?
Franklin: Yeah.
Stewart: When I got married, he was working for Larson's Bakery and I can’t remember the name of the drug store. You know it's
a good job if you get a job as a janitor if you were black.
Franklin: That’s what others have mentioned. I think Dallas Barnes called it the difference between working outside and inside.
Stewart: That’s right, that’s right. Those were good jobs, if you get a job working like that. He did that for so long. Then after I
had met him at YVC and he had finished course work at YVC and still working these janitorial positions, we decided because he
had been in the Army and he could get GI bill money, that he would commute from Yakima to Central in Ellensburg. You know it
was Central Washington State College before it became Central Washington State University. So he commuted forth and back and
that was where he got his degree in Economics.
Franklin: You went to school at Central as well?
Stewart: Yes I did. Yes, I went to Central as well.
Franklin: Did you graduate?
Stewart: Graduate from Central.
Franklin: What was your degree in?
Stewart: Psychology and Sociology. Well I went on to graduate study, but yeah I went to Central and I worked at Central.
Franklin: Did you get a graduate degree at Central as well?
Stewart: No. I got a graduate degree at Pacific Lutheran University.
Franklin: What was that in?
Stewart: In Counseling, Psychology, and Sociology.
Franklin: How did you guys end up in Tri-Cities?
Stewart: We came to Tri-Cities because Hanford was paying more money than two jobs as a janitor. That’s how we got that job.
And see, I—
Franklin: Was that Herb's job?
[21:54] Stewart: That was Herb’s. When I was married to Herb, I made the national news being the first black telephone operator
for Bell telephone in the state of Washington. And I’m trying to think—David Brinkley, it was on the David Brinkley show. That
was all over. My mother called me one night and she said, “sis why don’t you change your dresses, every time that’s on TV you
have on the same dress.” I said “mom that’s the same story, they’re just playing it all over again.” Well it was interesting. My
friends I had gone to high school with kept telling me you can get a job at the telephone company. But in the meantime on his
shifting, I can work at the Del Monte Cannery where you put the fruit on the belt. Not where you can it because the woman who
was the floor lady said blacks couldn’t put their hands on the fruit to can it. We can only prepare it to go down the belt to be
canned. So my girlfriend said “everybody cans fruits, why can’t you can fruit?” I said “they wont let me can fruit.” That’s when I
called in the Washington State Board Against Discrimination. The Washington State Board Against Discrimination came into the
cannery and they made observations about how all that was being handled. They said you will either pay her what the highest
person on the line that’s canning is earning or you will give her a job to can, where you put the fruit. It was interesting because a
lot of my friends who were black didn’t want me to go to the State Board Against Discrimination because they felt they would
lose their jobs.
Franklin: There would be retaliation.
Stewart: Yeah. Oh, they knew there would be retaliation because they said, “Francis will do this.” Francis was the floor lady. I
said “well I don’t care what Francis does, I have nothing to do with that.” I stayed there the whole season and then my friends
stayed. After canning season was over, that’s when I went to apply for Bell Telephone and got the job at Bell Telephone, but
they did not want to hire me downtown. It used to be that in order to get a telephone, you would have to go sit at a desk, fill out
the forms, your earnings, you name before they assign you a telephone. Then they would give you a telephone. There were no
black women there, I think it was on 2nd or 3rd Street where their office used to be. They told me “no, go up to traffic” and
that’s where they say, “operator, how may I help you?” So I went to traffic, “no we are not hiring.” This was my friend from
Davis High School, we all went to school together. They said “they are hiring all the time, we don’t wanna be called in on double
shifts. Can’t you get a babysitter?” I said “well yeah,” so I went back, “no we are not hiring.” So I called the Washington State
Board Against Discrimination again and they went up. They had to hire me. Well, the first thing they said to me, “yeah we’ll hire
her, but she has to take a bath everyday. We don’t want her to come in here smelling up the place. She has to take a bath
everyday, shave her legs, and she has to use deodorant.” That’s what she said to me. Another one of the women that was there
said “you scored 100% on the test. You’re the first person who ever came up here that got 100.” They give you names of cities
and towns in the state of Washington. Nobody has ever done this before. How can they say that to you? These are friends from
high school. When they told me what I had to do, well I guess I was what they would consider a bit flip. I said “you mean to tell
me I had to work with people who don’t do that? Who don’t bath, shave their legs, and use deodorant?” [LAUGHTER]. And so she
looked at me, “we’ll take you.” In 6 months I became a supervisor, in 6 months at Bell Telephone and that building is still on
Yakima avenue. That brown brick building. I can remember my operator number as well as my name, 101. They would let me in
the building, go upstairs and that’s where I say “operator, may I help you please.”
Franklin: What was—what job did Herb get at Hanford that caused you to move down here?
Stewart: He was in the department where they had to supply all the metal and sheet work and everything for the buildings. And I
forgot what that was called. I don't remember what that was called, but that was his job. He had to make sure every building
had whatever they needed. That was his job.
Franklin: Do you remember roughly what year that was that you guys relocated to?
Stewart: ‘63.
Franklin: ‘63.
Stewart: 1963.
Franklin: Where did you first live when you came to the Tri-Cities?
Stewart: Jadwin Avenue. Jadwin Apartments.
Franklin: In Richland?
Stewart: In Richland. That was segregated.
Franklin: How so?
Stewart: Welol, we found out all the black people who were recruited to Richland, who came to Richland to work at Hanford,
and particularly people who had education from historically black colleges and universities, we were all put on one end of the
apartments. And we found that out by our friend who was Robert Jackson, an attorney that had moved here from Virginia, a
black man. And he had gone into the wrong building just by accident, he said he was tired. He just went in and sat down. He said
he started looking around the living room and that wasn’t his house. So he said he got up and got out of there. And then he
started walking through those apartments, they’re still on Jadwin. He said all the black folks were in one section. It was
segregated.
Franklin: That’s very interesting because you always hear when talking about race historically in the Tri-Cities, people often say
that—they’ll often point out that Richland wasn’t like Kennewick or Pasco. It wasn’t explicitly segregated.
Stewart: Well I think the reason that was always said is because the people they were recruiting were far more educated out of
black colleges and it was hidden. It was hidden. The A houses, the B houses, the C houses, and whatever, all of that. But I think
it was very hidden. Richland created East Pasco.
Franklin: How so?
Stewart: Well when you finish a particular job when they were building—well Hanford i'm saying. Hanford created East Pasco.
When those jobs were finished and people didn’t want to go back South or wherever they came from. We always said the wind
always blew the blacks over into East Pasco. That’s where they lived. [CUT?] I worked at Hanford awhile. In the summer, I
worked for computer sciences for a while.
Franklin: This was at Battelle?
Stewart: It became a part of Battelle I think, but I worked for computer sciences. I left the telephone company. I worked for
Battelle Telephone, 10 years with no absentees. That had never happened. Then I went to work for computer sciences and from
computer sciences, they asked me to come work for Battelle Northwest. I went to Battelle and at that time, I don't know what
the show was, but Ronald Reagan wanted to tour the Hanford site.
Franklin: General Electric Theater.
[31:38] Stewart: General Electric Theater. He told the man I worked for, just like we are sitting here, he said “I want to tour it,
but I don’t want no nigger taking me around out here.” I heard this just as sheer as I’m sitting here today. I mean that was just
like raw family, he didn’t break his horse or nothing.
Franklin: Well he is not exactly a civil rights warrior.
Stewart: No, no.
Franklin: What was the racial temperature attitude in Richland? You mentioned an informal segregation into the Jadwin
Apartments. What was the work and social environment like in Richland when you got here for you as an African American.
Stewart: There wasn’t much social life. The social life really for people who wanted to dance or hear good dance music, maybe
some jazz music, went to Pasco. Wallace Webster’s uncle owned a nightclub in East Pasco and that’s where people would go. But
I don’t remember doing a lot of social anything in Richland. The thing I did in Richland was we had been there I guess so called
early, people would always say, “if you go to Rindy and Herbs house, she cooks for everybody. Everybody who comes she‘ll cook.
You’ll get a good meal.” I don't remember doing anything really socially.
Franklin: How did you feel out and about? You know when you had to run errands in Richland, were there any moments that
stuck out to you?
[33:40] Stewart: One moment that set out to me, most times I had a lot of white girlfriends who were true civil rights workers.
It's a wonder their husbands didn’t get fired.
Franklin: Do you remember their names?
Stewart: Norman and Shirley Miller.
Franklin: We interviewed Shirley.
Stewart: You did?
Franklin: A few years ago and her son Andy.
Stewart: Oh Andy. Andy's brother and my son are good friends. And Phyllis Bowersock and her husband, the Millers, Nyla Brouns.
Franklin: I interviewed their daughter.
Stewart: Oh did you?
Franklin: Yes.
Stewart: Okay. I can’t remember but—
[34:30] Franklin: Nyla Brouns daughter gave me all of her mothers minutes from CORE.
Stewart: Congress of Racial Equality.
Franklin: It was super valuable for me and everybody in the books.
Stewart: Congress of Racial Equality. That was Roy Innus. Stokely Carmichael was SNCC.
Franklin: Yes. So you had a group of social justice minded-people.
Stewart: Forever. What is so interesting is that I found out recently, my children’s great grandfather was an activist long
before—maybe before we were born or when I was young, before I married Herb Jones. He was an activist wanting desegregation
to take place all over the state. And that was Reverend Reed out of Spokane.
Franklin: Calvary, right?
Stewart: Calvary Baptist, it‘s still there. He spoke with the Supreme Justice, the black Supreme Court Justice.
Franklin: Thurgood Marshall?
Stewart: Thurgood Marshall and with President Kennedy to talk about how important it was to pass the Civil Rights Bill. That was
a long time ago but the church is still standing.
Franklin: How actively involved were you in the civil rights organizations here in the Tri-Cities.
Stewart: Real active, real active.
Franklin: Which one? You were in CORE and others.
Stewart: SNCC and then I was a secretary for NAACP. And there was a man in Pasco, Mr. McGee, he always carried a sign about
discrimination in the stores and here on the streets in Pasco. Yeah I was active, very active. Everybody that came in ate at my
house. If they didn’t say the right stuff, I had to help indoctrinate them.
Franklin: What were the main focuses of the Civil Rights Movement here in the Tri-Cities.
Stewart: I think the main focus was equality and that was not happening even though people who had been recruited to come to
the Tri-Cities were never treated equally in housing, wages, or in schools. Now Dr. Wiley, who helped to get this campus here—
Franklin: Bill Wiley.
Stewart: Bill Wiley and his wife Myrtle. She was a school teacher and she could talk about what happened in the schools, but
those were the things. One thing I remember, having bought a bouquet of flowers. I don't know what store it was at and I paid for
them. I gave the cashier the money and in her hand. Instead of giving me back change in my hand, she slammed it down on the
counter. She said “there is your change.”
Franklin: What were some of the specific targets of civil rights activism? What were some of the victories? Specific targets and
victories that you remember.
Stewart: One of the big victories was when Carl Maxey came to Pasco. There was a grocery store in Pasco where everybody black
shopped at the grocery store because that was the only one there.
Franklin: Is that the Eastside Market?
Stewart: I think it was the Eastside Market. But they would not hire anybody black. You could shop there, but you could not work
there. So what we all did—the Brouns, the Millers, and all a bunch of us that they call militants. We went one day, I think Nyla
and I went one day and counted out all the grocery carts that they had. Then we went out and got that number of people who
wanted to have grocery carts and we boycotted them for about 16 to 20 days. When my shift was over, I would give it to the next
black person. When that person's shift was over, we would give it to the next black person. We would always put something in
the basket that would not spoil, a can of tomato, beans, or whatever. We just would roll around in the market.
Franklin: Make it look like you were shopping.
Stewart: Yeah, we were shopping but we were boycotting. So we were doing it, Carl Maxey came out of Spokane to speak for
that
Franklin: What was the situation for African Americans like in Kennewick when you arrived and what—
[41:55] Stewart: When I arrived in Kennewick? We were the first black family that bought and owned property in Kennewick. We
paid down on the property and it went through what we offered. The offer went through and we moved into the house at 714
South Hartford, March the 22nd 1966. And two weeks after we moved in, I think two weeks, shortly after we moved in after that
house our telephone wires were all cut, chopped up. We had brought a brand new Ford at that time, all the tires were cut. The
Miller children, Brouns children, all the kids were playing together and just what kids do. They were in the swimming pool in
Kennewick and some adults got in the pool to drown my children and all the white kids who played with my kids. It just so
happened that the lifeguard, I don't remember who that was, saw what was going on, called police, and stopped all of that. We
were promised cross burning. And we had a family that lived two houses from us, he taught at Kennewick High School. He
resigned teaching at Kennewick High School because he said “I’m not going to teach no coons, no apes, Africans, and niggers in
my classroom.” He left Kennewick High and went to Columbia Basin College to teach. I can’t remember his name. And they put a
cross, a yellow X, I don't know how they got that on top of our house. It was marked where we lived by the police department.
My children, when they went to Fruitland Elementary School, had to be taken to school by white police officers. I was fearful
because I didn’t know if the police officers were a part of whatever else was going on with us because I just didn’t know who had
done all of this. When I lived in Kennewick, I was still working for Bell Telephone, I had to go across that old wooden bridge. It
was an old bridge I had to cross to go to the telephone company to Pasco.
Franklin: Are you talking about the Green Bridge?
Stewart: Yeah. Well, Wallace Webster and Raymond Avery used to stand there to make sure these folks who had threatened to
shoot me—that lived in Kennewick. See, Kennewick was known as a sundown town and if you were black and you went to
Kennewick and you weren’t out before sundown, they would beat you back across that bridge. When I worked for the telephone
company, at the telephone company you had all kinds of hours, and so they were like my guards. Wally is still living.
Franklin: He is actually. I interviewed him years ago and he mentioned escorting you across the bridge.
Stewart: Yes, yes he did. It was horrible and a few years later while we were living on Hartford, they found a big ammunition
cache buried about a half a block from our house. They had promised people that promised to come to burn us out, they were
gonna burn us out.
Franklin: Do you remember the sign on the Green Bridge? It was interesting because we never found any photographic evidence
of it—
Stewart: I wish I had it.
Franklin: But I mean clearly the sentiment existed because everybody mentioned the feeling.
Stewart: Yeah, yeah. There was a sign and I never had a pic—I guess if I looked at some old albums, I may have that.
Franklin: The thing is I’ve never seen it. I’ve never been able to look at a photo of it. I mean it clearly exists—
Stewart: Oh it did.
Franklin: Because or at least the feeling that it was meant to instill, was instilled.
Stewart: Oh yeah. And see, Judge Jack Tanner was one of the people that marched down Kennewick Avenue because at that
time he was the NAACP president. [LAUGHTER].
Franklin: He famously called Kennewick the Birmingham of Washington.
Stewart: Birmingham of the Pacific Northwest, yes he did. And I can remember sending my kids to Alberston in Kennewick to buy
grapes. Well, they sent home all of the grapes that had fallen off the stems. I had to go back to the store, talk about the grapes.
One woman says “that’s that melanin black woman, that’s that one that stays down there, that we don't want staying down
here.” So I asked for the manager and I gave him the bag of grapes and the receipt and he said “oh it must’ve been a mistake,
I’m sure it was a mistake.” There were people that lived in Pasco that would not visit us in Kennewick because they thought they
would be beaten out of town if they stayed after dark.
Franklin: You mentioned Wallace Webster’s uncles club. What other memories did you have of East Pasco and did you participate
in any civil rights activity in East Pasco?
Stewart: Oh, sure. All the three cities, wherever something was going on we participated in all of that. I cannot remember the
ladies name, she had a place when Wally’s uncle closed down. We went to his joint, we could go to her place and she would have
fried chicken, sweet potato pies, and she would always serve it to you in a brown paper bag and everybody sat there and ate.
Someone told me she’s still alive.
Franklin: Are you talking about Virginia Robinson, Virgies Chicken Shack?
[48:30] Stewart: No, not Virgies. I knew Virgie. I can’t remember what her name was. We always had to go there and get fried
chicken, that was her thing. And the churches were really alive in East Pasco. Ministers were involved in a lot of community
activities also at that particular time. Art Fletcher lived in East Pasco, and Art left and went to DC. They were my good friends,
Art and Bernice. It was just hard to put your finger on things. Mrs. Katy Barton, she worked at Bonneville Dam. Count[ing]fish
that would go over the dam, or whatever they called it. She was always a good person. There were always a lot of threats but
you couldn’t find out who was threatening, who was making the threats. Now in Richland, my friends and I—in those days they
had those Ford station wagons with the wooden panels on the side, we could put the kids in there with a little sandwich and
something to drink and all. They had these little fish ponds in the yard with this little black kid sitting with a fishing pole in the
front yard. So when it got about 11 o’clock at night and the kids were awake, we would take black spray paint and go spray the
little boys who were fishing black. People would wake up and wonder what was happening in their neighborhood. I can remember
one time John Birchers had somebody from the South come, I can’t remember his name, but John Birchers had somebody come
to Richland. I was walking the picket line—matter of fact I worked for a man who came along the picket line and looked me
straight in the face and spit in my face and I kept on working for him. If you’re trained to work on the picket line, you don't
respond. You don't wear loose clothing where somebody can drag you, you don't let your hair where people can drag you. You
have to be ready to hold your own on the picket line. He would spit in my face and I would go back to work in his office. My desk
faced him. About 2 or 3 months later, he said to me one day, “ I want to talk to you.” I said, “sure.” He said everything I done
when you walked that picket line, you never said anything to me about it. I said “well I never had a job working for you on the
picket line.” I stayed at Hanford long enough to see them take him out in a straight jacket. I drove him crazy. I never said
anywhere—I drove him absolutely crazy. [LAUGHTER].
Franklin: I met your son Herbert, how many other children did you have?
Stewart: One daughter. Sabrina, she’s a registered nurse of 43 years. She’s a University of Washington graduate.
Franklin: They both grew up here. How long did you live in the Tri-Cities for?
Stewart: Until, oh goodness, I wanna say 68’, 69’, somewhere out in there.
Franklin: Okay and what—how come you moved on?
Stewart: So that their dad can finish his college degree in Ellensburg. The Oregonian had, I don't know how to get that, but if you
can get an Oregonian they had printed, again this radical woman militant me. They printed me up in the Oregonian back in the
60’s. But there is something in the Oregonian about the Jones and the Jones woman. I don't remember the year and I got things
packed, I don't know where it is.
Franklin: I might be able to find it online.
Stewart: You may be able to. Maybe I'll give Herb that job.
Franklin: That’d be great, sounds like a good job for Herb. So they spent some of their years here, right?
Stewart: Oh yeah. They went to Fruitland Elementary School. Yeah, they went to Fruitland Elementary School. And my daughter,
when we went to Ellensburg, was the first black student that ever graduated from Ellensburg High School.
Franklin: So you stayed in Ellensburg quite a while?
Stewart: Yeah. One day I needed to take Herb some of his football stuff he had forgotten. So I went to the school and these kids
said, “oh hi Mrs. Jones.” I said hi. They said, “can we help?” I said, “I’m looking for Herb, do you know where Herb is?” This is
the thing I shall never forget, these young kids said, “while what does he look like?” The only black kid, this big tall kid. “Well
what does he look like?” And I said, “you know Herb’s tall, plays on the football team and all of that.” “Oh yeah I know who that
guy is.” They went on and found him. They never asked if he was black or what he looked like, that’s what they asked.
Franklin: What stands out to you? Seems like you had a really busy 5 years here in the Tri-Cities. What stands out to you in terms
of accomplishments made and improving or challenging segregation in the Tri-Cities, and improving the community?
Stewart: More jobs. People began to move out of some of the government housing. Some of the housing had opened up. There
were more—I think there were as many white folks in the Civil Rights Movement here as there were black folks in the Civil RIghts
Movement. And that made a difference because, I don't know the name of the group I organized, but once a month there were
all of us who got together, black and white. We had dinner together and we would discuss children or what went on, on the job
or what was going on in the city, or who was in jail or not in jail, that kind of thing. I don't remember the young lady’s name
after they did not want to hire me in Pasco now at the telephone company. They did not want to hire me, but they had to hire
me. There was another young lady that came and I think her name was—her last name was Daniels. She married one of the
Daniels that lives in East Pasco. And she went on to Spokane to become a black judge. She had moved here I think from Alabama,
but I can’t remember. After that I don't think they hired anybody else that was black to work for the telephone company. The
other things—people felt more comfortable in some housing areas or in restaurants then they had before. Sometime people
would go into a restaurant to order food and it was never served. The cook went off shift. The children, now my son and Stanley
Miller, that’s Andy’s brother. If you could count on anybody to carry the signs, Stanley and my son Herb, they’d carry the signs
about discrimination. They were in charge of those. I’m trying to think other changes. See, I still think there’s just a lot of things
that people know they dont want to talk about, about fear. I often wonder what the fear is all about. I can remember having
come to Pasco, Washington when I was at Central to do recruiting of high school students and the police was called on me
because I was a militant black woman, they don't want me in their school. I can remember that clearly. And little did we know,
that school would be named after Mrs. Virgie Robinson.
Franklin: Well, is there anything else that you wanted to mention about your life here and living in the Tri-Cities or working at
Hanford?
Stewart: My children had a lot of good exposure to people like Stockley Carmichael, Roy Innus, Louis Lomax, and some of the
greats who were civil rights people. Who would come into our home and give us a national perspective on what was going on
because my husband and I were totally involved in this. People who would come to the Tri-Cities would find the Jones, they
know. Go over there and she’ll cook, they know. They’ll tell you. And so I never will forget when Haley wrote his book and he sat
in my living room. I don't even know if that was in the book. Alex said to us, “if you don't ever remember anything, remember
that the worst thing that white folks ever did for black folks was to teach them how to read.”
Franklin: When you say Haley, do you mean Alex Haley?
Stewart: Alex Haley.
Franklin: That did Roots, the writer?
Stewart: Yeah that did Roots. He said that was the worst thing white folks ever did was to teach black folks how to read.
[LAUGHTER]. We are still reading, we are still reading. But it's amazing, there’s a lot I don't understand why it's happening but I
guess I understand it, but I just don't want to accept it. You would think that some things ought to be behind you. And I can
remember my grandparents picking cotton in Arkansas. You know I can just remember so much, that crossing that Mason-Dixon
Line. It's just so many things.
Franklin: Well I just want to take this opportunity to thank you for this interview, for all of the work you’ve done. You’ve clearly
left a mark. When I started this project back in 2017 with the funding from the National Park Service, but really my main
community partner was AACCES, the African American Community Cultural and Education Society. And I worked really closely
with Leonard, Moore, Vanessa, and Vanis Daniels. One of people—one of the names that kept coming up in interviews with Wally,
Ricky Robinson, and others was Herb and Rindetta. It’s amazing to me you were only here for 5 years. And for you to say people
always said to go to Herb and Rindetta, while people were saying that to me. You’ve really made an outstanding mark, and it
was my pleasure to interview you today.
Stewart: My pleasure to be here. God is good all the time. Thank you so, so much.
Franklin: Thank you. This was really amazing.