THE GOLD DIGGER was an old man who moved painfully, methodically and slowly. He hobbled from place to place with the aid of an old gnarled stick that looked like a small tree branch.
His feeble frame was massive. His great shoulders were rather hunched and rounded, but one could readily see that he had once been a powerful man capable of doing laborious work.
MUCH OF THE Material in this book is information that was told to me by older people. Much of it is what I have remembered from my childhood experiences.
I have decided to write about the section of Charlotte, North Carolina, which was called Brooklyn because I think its development and the history of its colored citizenry should be recorded.
This area was small in land size, but the activities of its people give an intimate glimpse of life as it was centered in this segment of America many years ago.
LIZ—I remember her silly face, her misshapen body, her undeveloped mentality. She was such an unfortunate human being. Still, she was a part of Brooklyn’s population. She became a community landmark by constantly roaming the streets, standing for hours on street corners and attending any funeral people would let her attend.
AFTER REACHING ADULTHOOD, one of my strangest and saddest remembrances of Brooklyn was the fact that Spring Alley, a red light district, once existed there.
When my mother and other homeowners came to this far out boundary of the city to buy and live in their modest homes, such a notorious section was not there. I have often asked myself these questions: Why was it planned to be in this area of colored homeowners? By whom did it come into being? I have never known the answers to my questions.