Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: TUESDAY, September 7, 1993 TAG: 9309070022
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MICHAEL CROAN
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
I was not looking forward to his arrival. I knew the cantankerous old man would try to fill every waking moment of his remaining existence spewing forth what he took for wisdom, between hacking coughs.
With my first year of college fast approaching, Grampa's long-winded, argumentative lectures were not what I wanted to hear. I was more concerned about making money, buying a car, saying goodbye to old schoolmates and other common teen-age worries. I didn't need to know "the plans are man's, but the odds are always God's" or any other of his rhyming sayings.
Grampa was invading, and I was on the retreat.
But during one of our chats, as I was trying to think of a way to escape, Grampa grabbed my attention as he hinted at some memory of our family history. Suddenly, I was asking questions.
With each answer, Grampa proved himself a treasure of family information.
His memories were all the more dear to me because I had been trying to learn about my ancestors for several years - a mission inspired by Alex Haley's epic, "Roots." I had even searched the Statue of Liberty's family heritage computers - unsuccessfully.
A lack of written records - and the fact that many families were divided to be sold during slavery - make researching the history of a black family difficult. I turned to the computers in New York as a last resort.
What Grampa told me wasn't the type of thing you might find in a computer. His tales were the stuff of real life - not just births and deaths, but the emotions and motives that make each life unique.
To share a tidbit:
Grampa's grandfather, John, was a slave to the Stevens family of Prince William County, from which one part of my family derives its name. He is the deepest root I've found on the maternal side of my family tree.
As a slave, John never had any permanent family members.
Once emancipated, he spent much of his time searching for any trace of the relatives he thought he might have. At the slightest mention of a possible blood relation, John was off to find him.
John's compulsion to find some family connection eventually drove him to leave his wife, Calla.
John told Grandma Calla (as Grampa affectionately calls her) he was going out "to get a loaf of bread."
Prodded by the promising words of Marcus Garvey, a prominent black leader of the time who promoted a "Back to Africa" movement, John was determined to find the family he never had. His "itchy feet" moved him past the bakery onto a boat headed for Liberia.
He was never seen on land again.
According to some, the boat sank in a storm. Others say the U.S. government was strongly opposed to the movement and could have sunk the boat without much resistance or publicity.
Part of my family tree lies in the Atlantic with the body of John Stevens Sr., a man who died in search of his roots.
Before he left, he and Calla (who was three-fourths Seminole Indian) raised John Stevens Jr.
John Stevens Jr. was Grampa's father. He delivered newspapers while trying to work his way back to Howard University, a black college in Washington, D.C.
He was working back to Howard because Grandma Calla cut his financial support when he was a sophomore. A deeply religious woman, Calla stopped financing John's education when she learned he was taking medical courses instead of theology as he had promised.
On his daily route one morning, he was ticketed by a white policeman for speeding - on a bicycle. He was arrested and taken to jail because he protested the ticket. As a black man in the South in the early 1900s, John was fighting a losing battle.
Public sympathy began to show itself in the form of cakes, pies and other homemade treats. Emma Barbour (Grampa's mom) delivered one of these cakes and was instantly enamored with the young man's handsome features and dignified manner.
Emma and John Jr. soon were married. Together they had 17 children; Grampa is the only surviving child.
Grampa doesn't live with us anymore. But the information I gleaned from his brief stay was worth a lifetime of research and speculation.
Maybe one day before too long, I'll pay him a visit. When I get there, I won't say much. As Grampa sometimes says, "Better it is to remain silent and let people think you're foolish than to open your mouth and remove all doubt."
It should be a good visit.
\ Michael Croan, a 1993 Lord Botetourt High School graduate, entered Washington and Lee University this week. For the past year, he worked at the Roanoke Times & World-News as an editorial assistant.
by CNB