Oral history interview with Annie Watkins, (part 2) [with transcript], April 30, 2007.

              NAU.OH.97.68.47B
160605
Annie Watkins- Part 2
Interviewed by Delia Ceballos Muñoz
April 30, 2007

Muñoz:  This is Tape 2, and I’m still with Annie Watkins.  I’m gonna ask you about discrimination in Flagstaff.  Go ahead and tell me the stories.
Watkins:  Okay.  So the discrimination was, first of all, we were all livin’ on the south side of town, and it was kind of interesting that when we finally got the little house on Agassiz Street, the Hispanic man told us that he would rent to us, but he had never rented to black people.  And I just told him that perhaps he would have a wonderful experience if he gave us an opportunity to live in his little house, which was next door to his.  I guess it was two houses on one lot.  And because I kept a nice little house, and I started asking for things, like maybe--at that time we didn’t have tile or new linoleum for the kitchen.  Okay, he made a big fuss about that, so we just went out and bought our own linoleum.  After a while you just do what you have to do.  And so we stayed there for a while, and then when he decided that he was gonna move to East Flag, he gave us an opportunity to buy, but you had to buy both houses because they was on one lot.  Well, we were not interested in buying both houses.  First of all, we couldn’t afford it.  So we moved....  A black man bought it and he had his family to move, so we had to move, the next house that was available was a block away, and the river was right by the first house.  So it was a Hispanic man, and his comment was he had never rented to the black minority, but he did rent to us.  And there was a few things that needed to be done, and of course we had to do that, because he didn’t have enough money to even fix the back door.  But you already have that covered.  So I thought the next time we move, hopefully we’re gonna be buying our own home.  So that’s when they were building Greenlaw. And when I went to Greenlaw, I was desperate because, well, the people that owned the little house, they really were not too enthused about selling it to us, and we were trying to get a better place to live anyway.  So when I went to Greenlaw, they were so nice and everything, and they were going to give me the keys to the three model homes.  Well, I couldn’t choose a house just by myself, that’s a big project.  So I said, "I’ll wait ’til my husband gets off of work, we’ll come back."  Well, after that happened, and we went back, then the man said that he had sold all the houses in that space of time, which was about less than two hours.  And my husband just congratulated him for being such a super salesman.  He did tell the salesman that he probably would hear from us again.  So we had concrete evidence that this was discrimination.  And my husband wrote a letter to the editor, in reference to we couldn’t get a decent house because we were the black minority.  We didn’t name anybody’s name or any subdivision, but what had happened to us....  And then of course after that happened, there were several people that came over and offered that they would sell us a house, their house, which was Grandview at that time, below Greenlaw.  We decided, well, maybe we weren’t gonna try to do that.  So that’s when we decided we was gonna buy this lot here, and perhaps get someone to build a house.  And to our surprise, nobody moved, and we’re still in the same location.  And the people were very cordial to us, but that was a big move.  And of course that did not interfere with the children going to school or anything like that, because the school bus came a block away from here.  So they could just get on the bus and still attend the lab school.  And nobody moved, and we felt very fortunate that we had good neighbors, and as a matter of fact they’re still here.
Muñoz:  Tell me the story about the restaurant.
Watkins:  Oh, at the restaurant, of course when I went to the restaurant on Santa Fe, they assumed that I was a tourist, because they had not seen me on that particular street, because sometimes we would come to the theater, but we would come all the way to Babbitt’s Store, cross the street, Fronske’s Studio, then we’d just walk to the theater.  Well this particular day, we decided we were gonna come around the restaurant and then go to the theater which was, what is that, Weatherford Hotel or whatever?
Muñoz:  Uh-huh.
Watkins:  And then they realized that I was black, because a lot of times I was missed--for some reason they were expecting a black person to be black, and here was this lady, she could be anything.  I mean, a mix with black, Indian, and white, or whatever.  But they thought I was a tourist.  But after we began to come down the street and it was obvious that we were black, then they could not say "we’re not going to serve you," they’d just wipe the tables.  And so then if you’ve got common sense, you just don’t go there anymore.  So that was something that was hard for me to comprehend, because in Louisiana you knew where you could go.  In Flagstaff, you assumed you could go, but you just couldn’t go.  And the theater, we never could sit downstairs, we had to sit in the balcony.  But if we went with an integrated group, we could sit downstairs.  So we did go to the manager, and it was going to be an experiment.  We were in a group, maybe one or two whites, and maybe two black couples or whatever, nothing would happen, but we could sit downstairs.  And we went to [unclear] manager, because his comment was he was afraid that he would lose business.  We convinced him that if we would come, because they had changed the movie three times a week, if we would come for a week, and if he had lost business, we wouldn’t come back, because the purpose was not to make him lose business.  And so it was an experiment.  So then he didn’t lose any business, so then before it became a law, Flagstaff was ahead of most of the communities, because they were already integrated.  So just walking into a place, you could just go anywhere in Flagstaff, before it became a law.
Muñoz:  What year would you say this was?
Watkins:  This was in the early fifties.  And you know, the discrimination, the law wasn’t passed until ’63, probably the Accommodation Bill and anybody can go anywhere, as long as you have the money to pay for it.  So Flagstaff was ahead in so many areas.  The same thing with the schools.  You know, we had a little black elementary school, but that was for the Hispanics also.  So when they finally integrated the schools, it wasn’t a big thing, because they were already mixed.  The junior high and high school was always integrated.  So Flagstaff was ahead in so many areas, and it’s a good place to live.  It’s a very good place to live.
Muñoz:  Let’s talk about the NAACP group that was here in Flagstaff.
Watkins:  Yeah, the NAACP--that is the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People--that’s how they got that--it’s an organization that just fights for civil rights in a constructive way.  So to integrate the theater, for example, we had a youth group.  And you know, one thing that Flagstaff had that was so good, because the junior high and high school was already integrated.  So, you know, you go to the theater and you sit downstairs, nobody notices you’re there.  I mean, it’s already dark in that room.  Who cares who’s in there?!  So we did it kind of casual we were not there to make him lose business.  And because they wanted to put a new film in, we went three times a week.  So if he would lose any business at the end of the first week, we wouldn’t go back downstairs.  And he was nice, and nobody left.  And so that’s how we integrated the theater.  And the same thing with the restaurants, because they assumed I was a tourist, and so they served me.  But then after I got right by the restaurant and they noticed that I was with a black husband, then I was black.  So that’s how I found out that this was something that we needed to work on.  Of course now, Flagstaff was ahead of most cities, because all of that took place before ’63.
Muñoz:  Do you remember the incident at El Charro?
Watkins:  Yes.  At El Charro you could go there if you was with an integrated group.  But we were livin’ in the El Charro’s neighborhood.  You could not go there and be served, let’s say, with just a couple, because we never did do that, because we knew better.  So what we did, we went to the management, "Our purpose is not to make you lose business."  It was just to help us get service.  And the first thing the manager--or the owner--I’m not sure how this was established--said was that he had a lot of different races of people, but he was just afraid that if the blacks were comin’ in to the restaurant, he might lose business.  So we promised him that we were not there to make him lose business, but if he was gonna lose business, just give us a chance.  We would come three different times, and if he would lose any business....  Nobody noticed us!  People came there to eat, not [to notice] who was there.  So we were able to integrate it before the law was passed.  So Flagstaff was ahead in many instances from the rest of the communities in Arizona.
Muñoz:  When you were in Phoenix, did you feel any discrimination there?
Watkins:  Well, I’m sure there was discrimination in Phoenix, but you know, there were so many black businesses, that I didn’t pay that much attention to it.  And I was living in Phoenix, but I was not really on the, what did they call it, the social thing.  It was just going to school, and of course, you know, we had a beautiful cafeteria at Memorial.
Muñoz:  How did you get accepted there to go to school?
Watkins:  Well, I had a friend--I had a lot of friends--you know, I was from a big family--and my older brothers were living in Houston, and they were friends with someone that had some kind of business, it was like a little nightclub.  And their daughter was coming to Memorial Hospital, but they knew somebody in Phoenix--I didn’t.  But because it was cheaper tuition for me to come to Phoenix, and because my brother was a friend of this person, and his daughter was coming to Phoenix.  So my brother decided he was going to take his vacation about the time that I was going to be entering nursing school, because he was paying for my tuition.  And he in turn was gonna leave me in Phoenix if everything was okay, and then he was gonna proceed and go on to San Francisco.  But everybody was there, and there was all kinds of people there, all nationalities.  I had no problem once I got there.  It was a lot of work, because you had to go to work in the hospital, and then you had to go to class.  And I did that for almost a year.  But in the meantime, I met Joe, so we got married.  But Joe was living in Flagstaff, and there was not a nursing school in Flagstaff.  So I came to Flagstaff with Joe, and the university was small.  It was Arizona State Teachers College.  So I started college right away.
Muñoz:  Were you the only black enrolled in that teachers college, do you know?
Watkins:  Well, let’s put it that way.  I was kind of shocked that here was a college, and there was no other black kids goin’ to college!  They were droppin’ out, and in the sophomore year you could drop out at sixteen, I think.  The kids were not goin’ to college!  There was a black lady who was divorced, and she’d married a man who was a widower, and he had gone to college in Tempe, and gone to college at Flagstaff.  So she started goin’ to college, but she was kind of fanatical because she couldn’t talk about nothin’ else but her classes, you know.  So anyway, I decided here I’m at a place where I can walk to college, and all I had to do was give my transcript to the university.  There was no big thing about being accepted, because this was Arizona.  But I felt strange, I had a complex, because I had never been in an integrated classroom.  And because none of the local kids was goin’ to college during that time, here I am, bilingual--I’m French bilingual--and because you had the Indian, you had a few Mexican, but they were basically whites.  And I felt kind of out of place, and I was coming from a segregated state, I had never been exposed to that many nationalities in one class.  You know I talk so much.
Muñoz:  Can you name some of those people?
Watkins:  Well, most of them, you know, because it’s so hard to get jobs in Flagstaff, so one of the black ladies that used to be in Flagstaff that was in college at that time was--well, I forget what her maiden name was at that time, probably Jones, but she married someone named Camper [phonetic], and she was a divorcee and he was a widower.  He was already a teacher.  So she was goin’ to college at that time, and Mrs. Clarkson, Audrey Wells, and she had married an older man from Tucson, and she was goin’ to college.  But there were so few blacks that was goin’ to college.  So here I am bilingual, and all these people that live in Flagstaff had this inferiority complex.  They were closer to the university than they were to the high school, but they were dropping out at sixteen.  And I think it was the exposure from the black elementary school, and I don’t know how the teachers were reacting to the black students or to the Hispanic students.  So they were in worser shape than me.
Muñoz:  As a teacher at South Beaver, and you had a high population of Hispanic kids....
Watkins:  Well, the thing about it was a lot of the kids didn’t know what....  They assumed I wasn’t black, because you know when you blend in, you have the Indians and you had the Hispanics, very few whites.  And because I was different from Mrs. Johnson.  Mrs. Johnson was kind of chubby, but she was typical Afro-American.  And a lot of times the kids would say to me, "Oh no, you’re not black."  I said, "Everybody that’s black is not black-lookin’.  Just like you kids have blond hair or maybe reddish or whatever the color, but we all are human beings."  And Ms. Johnson dressed different from me.  Even the teachers told me....  You remember Mrs. Insley?
Muñoz:  Oh yes!
Watkins:  She said, "You know, I can’t believe that you’re so different from Mrs. Johnson.  And I said, "Well, I don’t know why, because you and Miss Pessarra are both white, but you certainly don’t act the same."  That kind of made her think, because you have all these individual differences.  I was different, and I consider myself a very attractive woman.  I didn’t have fancy clothes, but I was very neat.  This teacher got to likin’ me.  Her name was Insley.
Muñoz:  Yes.  She was my second-grade teacher.
Watkins:  Okay.  So Insley’s daughter was going to nursing school in Phoenix.  She gave me all of Erline’s nice clothes.  I was one of the best-groomed girls at South Beaver School.  Anyway, this was an education, because I’m black, Ms. Johnson is black.  We were different.  She’s white, and Mrs. Pursair is white, but they are just as different as day and night.  And then Mrs. Redman comes in.  She just loved me because my minor was social studies and science, and she was good in music.  So with the principal’s approval, she would come to my room and teach music--she loved to sing--and I could go to her room, which was across the hall, and teach social studies.  And she was from Texas.  And I want you to know that I was kind of like, what, the server when her daughter got married.  I was one of those that was servin’ the punch with Mrs. Killip!
Muñoz:  (laughs)  You were up there, weren’t ya’?!
Watkins:  [unclear]  I was lookin’ good, baby.  And she even told me, "Annie, I want you to be one of the servers serving the punch with Mrs. Killip."  I didn’t know what to say!  Mrs. Killip?  Her husband was the assistant superintendent.  I said, "I’m sure you already have it lined up."  [unclear]  "Oh," she said, "yeah, I want you to wear a light blue outfit."  I went over to Babbitts and got me a light blue dress.  It was a linen dress, but it had like a turtleneck, but it zipped in the back.  And I had this long kind of lacy coat.  So I told her about it.  She said, "I’m gonna wear peach, almost like yours."  I had to look good, because we were at the Elks Lodge, servin’ the punch and stuff.  I heard about that wedding from the first of the year until the wedding took place in June.  Every day she would come in and tell me about this wedding.  And then when she asked me to be one of those that would serve the punch with Joyce Killip, it was quite an honor.
Muñoz:  What did your husband say?
Watkins:  Oh my husband was very proud of the whole thing.  He said, "But you know Mrs. Redman and [unclear] supposed to be prejudiced."  I said, "Honey, they didn’t have to ask me.  But a lot of that stuff is in the past now.  Ms. Redman and I became very good friends because I don’t think she’d ever been around black folks that had an education."  So I was different.  And Mrs. Johnson was older, and Mrs. Johnson sometimes would look a little bit strange, but, you know, that’s the way she was.  So I was kind of like the cream of the crop.  So I told Mrs. Killip and Mrs. Redman one day, "Now you talk about me and Ms. Johnson.  What about you and Mrs. Pursair?  There’s no comparison."  Anyway, so I’m servin’ the punch [unclear] I heard about [unclear].  From the first of the year until it happened, every day, she’d come with her book, because Joe was lookin’ good too.  But anyway, so we went to the wedding and went to the reception.  It was a big reception and they had a big dance and went to the Elks Lodge.  Mrs. Killip and I were serving the punch.  It was classy, honey, it was classy.
Muñoz:  I bet it was!
Watkins:  I think Ms. Redman was kind of upset because I think at one time--that’s me talkin’, I ask God to forgive me--I think at one time Mrs. Redman kind of was hopin’ that the Killip boy was gonna like Sarah.  But that did not work out that way.  But anyway, so Sarah married this guy from Las Vegas.  And I had the children’s picture, Sarah sent pictures and everything.  And of course after they moved to Vegas, I don’t know about Mr. Redman, but Ms. Redman got so addicted to the slot machines, and they were goin’ down there all the time.  And it was interesting, because she cared nothin’ about a house, they were livin’ in Bow and Arrow.  And I guess they eventually sold that house and moved to Las Vegas.  And I could just see her in those casinos because she could play the machine!  She was goin’ crazy with the machine.  But that was a big wedding, and I was serving the punch and the champagne or whatever.  It was a big thing.  I heard about it for six months, so you knew it was a big affair.
Muñoz:  What would be your biggest experience at South Beaver?  What did you learn, teaching at South Beaver?
Watkins:  Well, I learned a lot, because that was my first school that I taught in, and because I was not a kindergarten-trained teacher I went over to Ms. Duncan and she gave me the catalog--it was like a catalog--but it was a book with just lesson plans.  So I followed that for two and a half years.  Of course the kids were ready for first grade.  And then of course I moved to first grade.  The first-grade teacher moved to Mrs. Insley, the second grade.  And she used to tell me all the time that the kids at South Beaver, because they were minorities, you know, and they had a language program, they could not learn more than the primer.  And Mr. Bradshaw was the principal at that time, so I moved to first grade, and so my kids had finished the primer, and I used to keep it out of the room.  The books was upstairs, so they used to keep that room locked.  So I said to him that I thought my kids were ready for the first reader.  He was very excited and he liked me very much, and he said, "The other first grade teacher said a minority couldn’t learn the first reader."  I said, "They may not finish it, but they are ready for it."  So I had taught more than half of that first reader.  And so she goes to second grade and she said, "Your kids can read the second-grade book."  "Oh," I said, "I wanted you to go and tell Mr. Bradshaw that, because when you was teachin’ it, they didn’t even go that far."  Okay, so they built Sechrist School.  She gonna move 'cause she wanted to teach white kids.  Mr. Bradshaw said, "Ms. Insley never used the second-grade books.  She said it was too hard for those minorities."  I said, "I know, but I’m a minority, I’ve gotta make sure that I teach more than her."  That was the whole thing.  So she’s gonna go to Sechrist School, but the parents there know as much as she did.  But she went on and she retired.  But anyway, so it was a learning experience for all of us.  So then when Mr. Turner had moved from Beaver to Coconino High, but I don’t know what happened, but I think it was too much drugs or something, Mr. Turner couldn’t wait to get to the elementary school.
Muñoz:  Too much drugs at the school?
Watkins:  Yeah, that’s what they said.  You hear all kinds of....  You know, there’s a lot of Hispanics over there.  I don’t know if it was that, or whatever.
Muñoz:  What are you telling me, you blame the Hispanics for drugs over there?  (laughs)  I’m just kidding.
Watkins:  That’s what they would say.  And of course you know the parents come over and they challenge you.  So he wanted to come back to the elementary school.  And so that’s how I ended up, when I was gettin’ over my long illness, and Mr. Williams said to me--you know, we used to be classmates a long time ago--he said, "I’m gonna send you to a school where you won’t have to go up the staircase at Beaver."  Well I figured I was gonna be there for one year, because the doctor said if I kept on the walkin’ cane maybe another year I wouldn’t have to use it.  So I was gonna go back to Beaver, and Mr. Turner got so mad at me and he said, "Well, hasn’t everybody been nice to you?"  I said, "Yes, but you know a lot of the teachers don’t understand the minority kids, and I do.  And I feel that my contribution would have been more significant to go to Beaver."  And he looked at me and said, "Hell, you’re not goin’ over there, because they need you here!"  So that’s how I stayed at Marshall half of my career.
Muñoz:  Oh my goodness.
Watkins:  And so anyway, it was because he kept sayin’....  And then he had been transferred from the high school to Marshall.
Muñoz:  Let me ask you, on the Hispanic kids, did they not know English because Spanish was their first language?  Did you get many of those?
Watkins:  I didn’t think it was such a big thing, but you know, the teachers can always fix it like if the kids are so dumb--Ms. Insley said that the first reader was too hard.  Those kids, when they came to South Beaver, most of them was already speakin’ English, and they could understand English.  And even the kids that was in the dormitory, the Indian kids, they were speaking English.  But that was an excuse.  See, the white teachers could get away with a lot of things, because they were bilingual, number one.  Doesn’t mean that they were speaking it all the time at home.  And it might be a little bit longer before they can do everything that the white kids who had been only exposed to their language.  So she goes to Sechrist.  The parents are sitting there because they know as much as her.  And she would never take off when she was at Beaver.  But the stress was killin’ her over there.  Was killin’ her over there to Sechrist, because the parents are across the street.  They come across the street and want to know why--that kind of stuff.  And so okay, then I taught, half of my career was at Marshall.  And then this new program was called the Latchkey thing.  And then I didn’t have to go to work until ten o’clock, which was different, but it was a good program--it’s still in existence.  It was a pilot program, so I worked with the librarian from ten o’clock to dismissal time, 2:30.  And then they called it the Latchkey, the kids that rather than goin’ to daycare, they could stay at Killip School until the parents come and meet them.  But that was like I didn’t get home until six o’clock, and sometimes the parents--this is horrible.  One of the little kids’ parent didn’t come to pick 'em up.
Muñoz:  Oh yeah, you’ve already mentioned that, about the mom.
Watkins:  Yeah.  And so then, you know, that creates a problem.  But now they have it in all the schools, which is good.
Muñoz:  Name me the teachers that you worked with at South Beaver--can you?
Watkins:  Mrs. Veazey second grade.  Mrs. Redman was third.  Miss Pessarra was fourth.  And I’m trying to think now who was the fifth-grade teacher.  And Mr. Castro was there.  But for some reason I can’t remember the fifth-grade teacher.  Mr. Swain [phonetic] was there.
Muñoz:  Right, Mr. Swain.  Mrs. Morgan?
Watkins:  Morgan was third at one time.  I think she came after Redman.
Muñoz:  Mr. Swain was my sixth-grade teacher.  Mr. Flick, my seventh-grade teacher.
Watkins:  Flick!  Flick was there too.
Muñoz:  He was my seventh-grade teacher.  Now my fifth-grade teacher was kind of difficult because it started with Mrs. Morgan and she got ill.  And then I had all kinds of substitutes.
Muñoz:  We know when [unclear] substitutes, it’s hard to remember all the names.  But that was the way it was at Beaver.  And when I got to Marshall, of course you know the teachers [unclear] have this grade-level meeting.  It was always like....  But we were doing nothing at Beaver, because we had all the minorities, bilingual, and all that kind of stuff.  So I was recovering from my long illness, I still was on the walking cane.  So I’m not sure Mrs. Janet Wheeler was teaching, what, fifth grade, I think, at that time.  But Mrs. Micke was the kindergarten teacher at Marshall.  So when she retired, that’s when Mrs. Wheeler took it.  And Mrs. Clark, her husband used to be a coach, but then he became some kind of superintendent, whatever kind of superintendent he became.  She was second grade, but then it was just about time for her to retire.  And I’m trying to think who was the third-grade teacher.  Oh, I can’t think of the name right now.
Muñoz:  You started at South Beaver in the late fifties?
Watkins:  I started in Beaver.  That was my first school, in ’56.  And then I had my long illness, because I did half my career at Beaver.  So it was about more like the seventies when I went to Marshall.
Muñoz:  And you retired what year?
Watkins:  Well, let’s see, I retired when I was fifty-eight, and that’s a long time, that’s like twenty years ago.  So then I did my second half at Marshall.  And then my last year was at Killip.  And I’m trying to think who was the Killip principal at the time.  Because Mr. DeMiguel  had already retired.  He had already retired by the time I was moved, because he became what?  He became assistant something, superintendent of something.  I can’t remember what he was.  But anyway, he was the one that Mr. Killip, Killip School was named after.  Killip [School] was named after Mr. Killip.
Muñoz:  Right.  Wilfred Killip.
Watkins:  Mount Elden was the name of the school.  Mr. DeMiguel was the principal at Mount Elden, or the first principal, I guess.  And then when they built the new school over there that was named DeMiguel, but he had already retired.  But that’s how they named the DeMiguel School over there at University Heights.
Muñoz:  Let me ask you about living in Flagstaff, the community celebrations.  What do you remember in the community celebrations in Flagstaff when you were living here?  Did you attend any celebrations?
Watkins:  They had what they called--what is it called?  It’s called "Come Back to Flagstaff."  That just started just recently, and that’s around the Fourth of July or somethin’.  Sometime in June, I think.
Muñoz:  Nineteenth of June?
Watkins:  The Nineteenth of June, I believe.  But then it runs all the way to the powwow time.
Muñoz:  Oh wow.  And who coordinates that, do you know?
Watkins:  It was the local people, like the Sims, Mrs. Sims.  You know, she was a Hargrove before she married.
Muñoz:  Shirley?
Watkins:  Shirley Hargrove.  That was kind of because they wanted to have something that black people was doin’, like the people that was pioneers in Flagstaff.  And then what happened is, all of the people that was either goin’ to school, to come back to Flagstaff.  You get to see a lot of the people that have moved to Las Vegas and all over the place in California, because this is kind of keeping the black cells together.  And then they have like a big barbecue thing, because they had the Kinsey playground and the Kinsey Auditorium.
Muñoz:  So it was based at the Kinsey School, huh?
Watkins:  In that vicinity, but then they were talking about having it over there at the county fairgrounds because they had the barbecue thing and the whole thing.  And that’s kind of nice, and I think they’re planning on doing that this year, because they didn’t do it last year.  I think they’re having it every other year.  And that’s something to do, but you’ve got to be sure your reservation is in on time, so I think this year it’s gonna be at Ft. Tuthill.
Muñoz:  Have you gotten your reservation yet, in?
Watkins:  I didn’t get my reservation, because I don’t have to.  I’m just gonna go over there and finally get a plate of something.  Because, you know, it’s a nice place to go, but it was so dusty the last few times I went over there, because they waited too long.  But I think this year it’s better organized, where you’re gonna have a building so you can go in the building.  Because it’s so hot to sit out there.  And it was so dusty.
Muñoz:  Do you think they’re gonna use the amphitheater?
Watkins:  I think that’s what they were talkin’ about, yeah.  But you see what happened is, now they know how to better plan it now this year, because all those Las Vegas people are comin’.  And then the people that live in the valley, they want to get away from the heat.  And then it’s finding someone that’s going to be doing the cooking and stuff, because [unclear] have whatever the children like, those icy things, whatever that’s called, kind of like a sherbet thing.
Muñoz:  A smoothie?
Watkins:  Is that what they call it?  But anyway, then they’re gonna have the weenie roast and they’re gonna have hot dogs--well, that’s hot dogs--and they’re gonna have hamburgers and things like that.  And they were talking about getting something big to raffle.
Muñoz:  Oh great?  That’ll cause more people to go.
Watkins:  Yeah, because now you know if you have a chance....  They were trying to get somebody to donate something big.  I’m not quite sure what-all they’re gonna get, but anyway....
Muñoz:  I’m hoping that’ll all work out.  How about the church?  What church did you attend?
Watkins:  Well you know because I’m Catholic (chuckles), this was like an adventure [unclear], I couldn’t believe it.  There wasn’t any black Catholics when I came to Flagstaff.  Well, they were Catholics until they came here.  But you know, when you come from the South, and everything is segregated, they didn’t feel comfortable in going to the Hispanic church, which is Guadalupe, or downtown.  That was unheard of.  So you know I married a Baptist, and I was married by a Baptist minister.  My mother was gonna kill me!  Well, anyway, I was Catholic and all my family was Catholic.  So I went to the priest, Father Lindenmeyer, I explained the situation, and he said, "Well that won’t be no problem.  Don’t you push your husband into Catholicism, but I will bless your marriage so you can come back and get your sacraments.  I want to meet your husband, and I’m gonna tell him that if you guys are gonna have children, that he should consider the children to be Catholic.  So that was not no big thing, because Abra was christened at Guadalupe, he had his communion at Guadalupe.  I don’t think [unclear] Guadalupe, I can’t remember.  But then we were told by Father Lindenmeyer, since we had moved across the tracks, by the church laws we was supposed to go to the closest, and the closest was Nativity.  That was the hardest thing to do!  And I made a mistake one day and I said, "I don’t feel right when I go to Nativity.  The people are in such a hurry, they don’t have time...."  Well, they’re busy, you know.  And I said that in front of Mrs. [unclear].  "Oh," she said, "Annie, I am so sorry you feel that way."  "Maybe it’s just me," I said, "but I’m sure it’s me.  Everybody is in a hurry when they leave the church, they don’t have time to socialize."  Where at Guadalupe, you couldn’t wait to get out there to socialize.  So she would remind me of that.  She’d say, "I haven’t changed at all, and I think I’m just as friendly to you."  I said, "I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was a racist or anything like that.  But maybe because I was living so close to the members of Guadalupe, they knew me better."  But then I said, "Lord, I’d better pray over this," you know.  So the next day I got a call, and whoever called me said, "Oh, you taught catechism at Guadalupe, didn’t you?"  I said, "Yes."  "Well, there are many students that do not attend Saint Mary’s."  They didn’t call it Saint Mary’s at that time.  "And we were wondering if you would take a high school group."  I never taught high school kids before.  It was a young priest [unclear].  So I said, "When I was teaching catechism, we had a book, we had a little catechism book."  Said, "Yeah, but we’re gonna just talk about how can we change the social atmosphere [unclear] Flagstaff the black kids never had a separate junior high or a separate high school.  How can we bring the kids together?"  I said, "Well, that’s gonna be a big project because our kids did not go to public school when they were in elementary school, they went to the lab school.  But our children always went to the scouting and was integrated.  I guess it’s okay."  But they had all these new rules in the church, and there was a young priest.  And so he said, "I’m gonna give you and Joe the high school group."  Never had a high school group.  He said, "But I’m gonna come fifteen or twenty minutes before dismissal time, so if you have any question that you guys don’t figure you can answer accurately, save them for when I come."  I said, "When are we gonna do this?"  He said, "Sunday afternoon."  You know, Sunday afternoon is when we used to go out for rides.  He was a young priest.  I said, "Father, I’ve never done that with the high school students."  He said, "That won’t be no problem, because I’m going to just have eight to come to your house."  These were the aristocratic kids, the kids whose parents were all businesspeople or doctors or lawyers.  Anyway, they were the cream of the crop.  And I said to the father, "Now Father, I’ve never done that with big kids."  He said, "I know that.  That’s why we chose you and Joe."  So we just kind of opened it up and let the kids talk, and then one of the lessons said because they want to make it ecumenical, "invite the black kids from the different churches."  I told the priest, "You know, I cannot go to the church....  I don’t belong to the Protestant church.  And I think the time that I meet with our kids from Nativity or Guadalupe is the same time that they have their young people’s group."  He said, "Are you a good Christian?  Say some Hail Mary’s, and you go and talk to the minister and try to get two from each church."  And there’s two Baptist churches in town:  Spring Hill Baptist on O’Leary; First Baptist is on the top of Butler and whatever that street is called--Butler and something else.  Well, you know, Butler goes all the way [unclear].
Muñoz:  Right, so it’s on Elden.
Watkins:  It’s Elden?  Okay.  Alright, you know, I’m a little bit embarrassed [unclear].  Of course I knew the minister at Spring Hill, and of course I knew the minister at First Baptist too.  And I knew all the ministers, because I made a habit, when I move across town I don’t want to lose what I already have.  And because that church don’t start until eleven o’clock, I could still go to mine and have enough time to go to theirs.  So I was already ecumenical.
Muñoz:  (laughs)  You were doing good!
Watkins:  So I went up to the ministers and I said the lesson said that I needed to get some members of your church.  I would like if you would just let me have two.  I didn’t want to slight anybody, so I had four kids, two from Springhill, two from First Baptist, two from the Holiness Church, two from the Methodist church.  And then the priest would come.  And you know, I have all the rich kids here, or all the highly professional kids.  One of the black girls said, "Ms. Watkins, this is so nice that you’re havin’ all of us together, but you know we’re gonna go to school tomorrow.  Those kids are not gonna speak to us."  I said, "But you know sometime what you need to do when people don’t speak to you--you’re gonna go to school tomorrow, [if] they don’t speak to you, you go and speak to them.  It’s a two-way thing."
Muñoz:  That’s right.
Watkins:  And then I mentioned, "You know, when we get to heaven, we’re gonna all be together, so we need to learn to be together here, because there’s not gonna be any segregation, or God’s not gonna let us in.  I’ll never forget Gertha.  Gertha said, "Ms. Watkins, you know these kids not gonna even speak to us."  I said, "Tomorrow morning when you go to class, don’t wait for them to speak to you--just go to them, say, ‘Good morning, how are you today?’"
Muñoz:  That’s Gertha Robertson?
Muñoz:  Yeah, Gertha would represent all the black kids, because, you know, she talks.  I said, "You go to them.  You don’t wait for them to come to you.  I see you guys crisscross down the hall.  Just say, ‘Oh I remember I spoke to you yesterday.  How are you today?’  You know, when I went to high school, I went to a black school and the bus station was in the middle of town, just like where the hospital is.  I had to go clear across town, across the tracks, to get to the black school.  The white kids would pass by us and they’d almost push us off into the street, but my purpose was to go to high school, and I was a proud little black girl.  I did not like to get my shoes messed up, because, you know, there’s a lot of dew on the grass in Louisiana.  But I was determined that I was gonna be as smart as them.  So you kids got to learn that when you get to that high school, you’re tryin’ to get the same thing the white kids are gettin’, so you have to give up some of your things too.  But I hear you comin’ when I leave South Beaver School.  I can hear you comin’ from the railroad tracks, you talk so loud, because I hear you.  When I was goin’ to high school, you know what the white parents did to us?  Called the principal and said the kids from Palmborough [phonetic] High, which was my high school, ‘They talk so loud that the babies couldn’t even take a nap.’"  Oh, honey, I know about segregation.  But the principal begin to leave the school a few minutes before we were dismissed, and I used to wonder where in the hell did he go, because he would drive his little car.  But from school I couldn’t tell where he had gone.  He did that for a whole week.  Every Friday we had assembly, and he told us, "You know, I would park a block away, because the white parents had called to tell me that you guys disturbed the babies.  And I couldn’t hear you guys.  They were just telling a big story."  We didn’t know where he was, we couldn’t see him, because in Louisiana you have all those trees, tree-lined streets.  You can park a block away and nobody would know you’re there.  He said, "But I want you guys to know to keep it up, because the next time any parent calls me and tells me that Palmborough High kids are disturbing their babies, I can tell them that’s not true.  So make me happy, keep on doin’ what you’ve been doing."  But you see, this was the discrimination.  They resented us black kids goin’ to high school.  There was no other way to get to the high school but to come through the white neighborhood.  I lived it, so I know what I’m talkin’ about.
Muñoz:  Right.  Let me ask you also, when you lived in Louisiana, being brought up in Louisiana, and I mentioned to you that some of the people, most of the black people that came to Flagstaff, were like people from Louisiana, that would be the north side of Louisiana.
Watkins:  That was the northern part of the state.
Muñoz:  So was that something else that you saw different here, was the different black people?
Watkins:  Well, where I came from, it was basically the agricultural people, the farming people like my father.  You see, because where we lived it was just kinda like flat area, and all they grew was cotton or rice.  And the kids, the people that migrated to Northern Arizona, was from the lumber, which was Northern Louisiana, and they had forests just like they do in Flagstaff.
Muñoz:  Okay, that makes sense.
Watkins:  So they were not having the same kind of background that I was exposed to.  So coming to Flagstaff was a completely new thing, because everybody that you would meet....  And because they had two sawmills in Flagstaff.  They were associated with the sawmill.  And so this was hard for me to understand, the difference.  And you know, because one of the sawmills was where the Days Inn is; and then the other was over there on the south side of town.
Muñoz:  On Butler.
Watkins:  On Butler and whatever it’s called there.  The jailhouse is there.  So you would see people going to work, but they were either gonna go towards the highway or coming from that side over there, or however it was done, but there were two sawmills, one on each end of town, and it was so smoky!
Muñoz:  Did you ever hear the term, "Cadytown"?
Watkins:  Yes, I knew exactly where Cadytown was.
Muñoz:  Can you give me the location of that exactly?
Watkins:  I think Cadytown was the one that was over there by....  I may be giving you the wrong thing, because it was over there closer to Food Town.  It was kind of really low on the ground.  And then there was another place over there by the sawmill was called something else.  But that’s where all the bad housing was for the people that worked for the lumber industry.  They didn’t have any floors down there.
Muñoz:  Okay, Cadytown was for the black people--that was my understanding.
Watkins:  Okay.
Muñoz:  Because that Cady person came from Louisiana and brought these....
Watkins:  What happened basically was most of the people that came with the sawmill industry was from Louisiana and Mississippi or Arkansas.  Because those people that run the sawmill, they went back to Louisiana to get those people.  And they were paying so much more.  But I was just appalled with the housing situation.  Here they were living where they grow the lumber.  And those shacks that the people had!  I was working with the census bureau.  I would go into some of the homes that didn’t even have floors.  It was over there, past First Baptist, whatever it was called over there, where the sawmill was.  They didn’t have to go very far to go to work.
Muñoz:  Right.  Right along Butler Street where those oil containers....  Yeah, that’s what they called Cadytown.  That’s what I understood, that was Cadytown.
Watkins:  And then there was another little place over here not far from the railroad tracks, but it was on that side of the highway.  I guess they went to the other sawmill.  It was past the Armory, closer to the tracks.
Muñoz:  Okay, that was Old Town?
Watkins:  Yeah, I guess it was Old Town.  Some of the black people lived that way, and the other blacks lived the other way.
Muñoz:  Yeah, on the west end and east.
Watkins:  Yeah, it was west and east.  That was where the minorities were situated, but basically the blacks.  Now there was a few families that lived right on the railroad tracks.  Mrs. Simon, her back door was to the railroad track.  Mr. Nett  was on the other side of the street.  [unclear] motor company on that side.  And then there was the Wells--you know, that killing over there.
Muñoz:  Right, that was up on that hill, Coconino.
Watkins:  Yeah, on the hill.  That was where most of the black--well, it was closer to work.  And then of course they had them when they were just livin’ around San Francisco Street and up to--O’Leary, I think, had just been developed.  That was the cluster.  There was no Brannen Homes when I came, and it stopped at Spring Hill more or less.  When you passed the cemetery, there was nothin’.  Then they built Brannen Homes when I had just arrived in Flagstaff--I guess in maybe ’54, ’55, something like that.  And then when they built Brannen Homes, it was like heaven to black folks, because this was so....  It was the better housing thing they had ever lived here.  I never will forget Mrs. Hickman.  They had the biggest house in Brannen Homes, four-bedroom house.  And it was so big that she didn’t have enough furniture.  I never will forget this, because I was a homebound teacher to a little girl that had cancer, and she was second grade.  So I went to Mrs. Hickman’s house.  I could not believe, because they had that little tiny house across the street--it was on O’Leary--you know, they’ve got a little grocery store right on the river there.  Well she had like a little two-bedroom house on that side of the street, not far from....  You guys always lived around one of the churches.  Well, you guys are still there, the Ceballos.
Muñoz:  Right.
Watkins:  But they had a little, I think it was a two-room house.  And so anyway, there was the shacks.  And I used to think, "Where do those people sleep?"  And so when they built Brannen Homes and she got this four-bedroom house, she didn’t know what to do with all that space.  So I was the homebound teacher for Addie Perle [phonetic]--she had cancer--and she had one bedroom that was empty, with all those children, which I guess she just had half of her family by that time.  And she had no furniture to put in that great big house.  And I used to feel so sorry for her, because I kept thinking, "Where do they sleep?"  But I guess someone would just--this is me talkin’--I guess they put a quilt on the floor, I guess, and just all huddled there together.  And then when she got to movin’ her little house over there--Donny Joe bought her that little tiny house--I got so mad at Donny Joe because I thought if he had that much money to buy a house, why didn’t he buy a house in Pine Knolls?  When Mr. Hickman got so sick, and he had to have dialysis, they had to tear the walls down to put the big machine in there so he could come home.  This was terrible, you know.  And now she tells me, "Oh, my place is so small."  And so I went over to visit the other day--I felt so sorry--I went over there.  Now that was supposed to be a living room.  You come in like a little porch-like.  It’s like a little porch, and then there’s a little kitchen--little tiny--I don’t know how [unclear].  But anyway, she’s in there in a hospital bed, and right next to the hospital bed is like a single bed there.  And they had to tear the wall down in order to get the hospital bed.  I just kind of wonder where do they sleep at night.
Muñoz:  Right.  Who’s living there but one daughter, right?
Watkins:  Well, you know, there’s so many children there.  Well, two of the daughters were there.  One of 'em was on a little cot and she was covered up to her neck.  I don’t know who else.  I don’t know where they sleep.  I didn’t sit down because I figured, well, I was so close to the house, I hated to come that close and not stop and see how she was doing.  I didn’t even sit down because I felt so bad, because I thought if Donny Joe was making all that money, why did he buy a house like that?  Why didn’t he go and buy them a bigger house?  Because they’re gonna all cluster there together.  And then she got talkin’ about a little money [unclear], but I didn’t give 'em any money when I went the last time.  I usually give 'em money, and I thought to myself, "I’m givin’ this money, but when you give somebody something, you’re not supposed to tell 'em how to spend it."
Muñoz:  True.
Watkins:  And I thought, "I’m not gonna give her any money.  All these big ol’ girls layin’ up there, they should have been gettin’ a job somewhere.  That’s me talkin’, you know.
Muñoz:  (laughs)  Okay.  How about entertainment in Flagstaff at the time?
Watkins:  At the time that I came to Flagstaff, they had a little black restaurant on San Francisco Street.  That’s where the people used to go and get a hamburger or whatever.
Muñoz:  Who owned it?
Watkins:  Miss Pearl Pope.  She had a big house on O’Leary Street.  She was livin’ like--you know where Bob June furniture store was on San Francisco?
Muñoz:  Yeah.
Watkins:  Like her back door was almost into that.  She had a rooming house.  She used to rent rooms, and I guess she had apartments there.  And then her daughter was living across Butler.  Miss Pope was on one side of Butler, and her daughter was on the other side of Butler.  But she used to have little tiny shacks there where Dunbar School used to be.  She had a bunch of little shacks, and people could rent from Miss Pope.  Well, I don’t know [unclear] rent.
Muñoz:  The Dunbar School had those little shacks around it?
Watkins:  Dunbar School was right to the boundary line of Miss Pope’s property.  And so Miss Pope had some--I call 'em little shacks.  But you know Flagstaff housing was so bad at that time.
Muñoz:  Right.
Watkins:  People were glad to get a little two-room--just so they had a place to sleep and a place for a stove.  Nobody had indoor toilets at that time.  But Miss Pope made a lot of money because she had a big house, and then she could rent rooms in her house, as well as in the little apartments.
Muñoz:  So she boarded people there.
Watkins:  Yeah.
Muñoz:  Of all color, or just blacks?
Watkins:  Well basically it was, I guess, all colors, but it was basically black.  And then she had the little restaurant.
Muñoz:  So they would go to work at the sawmill?  Why would she board 'em there?
Watkins:  Well because they didn’t have any other place to go.  And then she had the little restaurant on San Francisco Street, which was right next to the Elks Lodge, but the Elks Lodge wasn’t there at that time.
Muñoz:  Would that be where Mrs. Taylor had her restaurant?
Watkins:  Could be that Mrs. Taylor probably rented at one time--could be.  Because Ms. Pope had the restaurant--I mean, when she was alive.
Muñoz:  I’m trying to--Pope--who did I go to school with, or did I know some....  Ach.  Anyway.  So she had a hamburger stand and it did well, huh?
Watkins:  You talkin’ about Miss Pope?
Muñoz:  Uh-huh.
Watkins:  I think she probably served more than hamburgers, because a lot of people would eat there three times a day--especially the people that didn’t have their spouses or whatever.  They were all workin’ for the sawmill.  So this was a place to go to eat, and it was hot.  Of course I never did eat at Miss Pope’s place.  But, you know, I didn’t have any reason not to eat there.  I could cook at my house.
Muñoz:  Yup, I know.  Okay, so that would be one place.  We talked about the Orpheum at the time.  Was that the only theater at the time?
Watkins:  Well they had another one downtown--I forget what they called it.
Muñoz:  Flagstaff Theater?
Watkins:  I guess that’s what it was called.  But the Orpheum, I guess, was nicer.  I felt kind of like I was cluttered at the one down....  Because it looked like to me it was across the street from Fine’s Ready To Wear.
Muñoz:  It was where Sweet Briars used to be.  Remember that store, Sweet Briars?
Watkins:  Yeah, probably so.  But anyway, you know, people, there was two theaters, but that’s where the people would go.  We always went to the Orpheum.  We had to go upstairs, but that was okay.
Muñoz:  How about any dances?  Was there any dance places?
Watkins:  Well of course they had the Elks Lodge--they would have dances on the weekend.
Muñoz:  I didn’t realize the Elks Lodge had been there for such a long time.
Watkins:  Well the Elks Lodge was not where it is now.
Muñoz:  Oh yeah, it used to be on Verde.
Watkins:  Right, it used to be on Verde.  So what they would do, they would have the bar and then they had like a separate room.  There was a bar, but then they would close the door if you just wanted to go to the bar.  And it was big enough to have a dance hall like in the back.  And then I don’t know what happened.  They sold that, and then they bought next to Mary and Joe’s store, and they had a barber.  Then they had a bigger place.  And then they had rooms upstairs.  And who bought that?  The Sims bought that.  So they’re gonna have rooms upstairs, and then downstairs is gonna be a teenage place.
Muñoz:  Oh, the Sims?
Watkins:  The Sims bought that.  I got [unclear] Mr. Sims, I said, "Well, I don’t know, you guys must have some oil well on your land in Texas," because I know they wanted about $200,000 for that building.  So he started laughing and he said, "No, we don’t have any oil," but they did get some oil on his mother’s property, and she gave 'em some money, so they bought this place.
Muñoz:  Great!
Watkins:  Anyway, so I’m lookin’ forward, because that’s gonna be a nice place, I think.
Muñoz:  For the kids.
Watkins:  For the kids that have a place to go, a nice place.  And then the college kids probably gonna be around there all the time too you know, because that’s the closest place to the college, to come to.  What is over there now?  The Rancho Grande’s not there anymore, is it?
Muñoz:  No.  No, the Rancho Grande’s not there no more.  Well, I don’t see it open too often.  Who bought it after Sally?
Watkins:  I don’t have any idea.  And then you know what made me feel so bad?  You remember the nice little house they had on the top of the hill over there on O’Leary, Mrs. Smith’s house?  It was a little yellow house.
Muñoz:  Uh-huh, it burned down.
Watkins:  Yeah, the lightning struck it.  Thank God that the lady had already passed away, because that was enough to make her die, because it was a nice little house.  But I don’t know, she had willed that house to her nephew.  I don’t know what he’s going to do now with the property.
Muñoz:  Okay, so the Elks, who would play at the Elks, what music?
Watkins:  Well, they had this guy, they used to call him Tommy Dukes.
Muñoz:  Tommy Dukes--I’ve heard that name so much.
Watkins:  He was the one that use to have--well, that’s what they’d get for the dances and stuff.  But [unclear] gonna be basically for the teenagers.  [unclear] record hop.  That’s my talkin’ now.
Muñoz:  You know, [unclear] most impressive to me was the women hanging out.  No, we would hang out at the river, at the bridge, when those women were practicing their choir with the tambourines.
Watkins:  Oh, that’s at the Holiness Church.
Muñoz:  Yeah, at the Riverside Church.  We would sit out there, or even sit on our steps at home, and listen to that beautiful inspirational music.
Watkins:  This is the thing about the Holiness Church.  I had never been to Holiness Church.  Well, they had it at home, and Mama would say, [unclear] those people get up and they do their thing.  So I had never been to Holiness Church.  And they have the best dinners there.
Muñoz:  Yes.  I heard Sissy cooked in those dinners.
Watkins:  Oh, I’m sure Sissy is a good cook.  But there was something they would do every weekend.  So Joe and I wouldn’t cook on the weekend because you could go and get a plate of food at the Holiness Church at twelve o’clock.  You could eat it then and still have some left for five.  They would give you a half a fryer.  But you know, they had donated all of that.  But now the older people have died, or are too old to do that now, so they don’t do that.  And so anyway, they built that church--downstairs is a dining hall.
Muñoz:  That’s Mr. Flemons that always worked at that church, huh?
Watkins:  Well, Mr. Flemons done owned the church.
Muñoz:  Oh?!
Watkins:  It was kind of funny when I said to Mrs. Johnson that one thing about the Flemons, they had been there forever, they never transferred.  Ms. Johnson said....
Muñoz:  Look how fast we’ve gone through this tape.  We’ve got six minutes left.
Watkins:  How did she say that?  The Flemons owned the church.  They bought the property--I didn’t know that [unclear]--but anyway, they built a church.  So one of 'em is the minister there.  And I go because they prayed for me when I was sick and everything, and because I was living in the same neighborhood with everybody.  So when they have special programs, I go.  And Joe used to tell me sometimes, "Annie, you patronize 'em."  I said, "When I was livin’ on the south side of town they always kind of looked after me.  We used to buy dinners from them.  And I’m proud that they can still do that.  I like to go."  They dance, they do that holy dance, you know.  See, my mother would not let us go to a Sanctified church when I was a kid.
Muñoz:  Why?
Watkins:  Because she said, "You guys are gonna act so silly."  Well, you know what gets me was, I could feel the spirit without having to do all this emotional thing.  But they have some good lectures.  When the minister would start talking, and then they’ve got all this music you know.  And then they’ve got a good congregation because they go around at the college and get all those young kids to come to church.  First Baptist is the most sophisticated church, I guess.  But it’s something about the Holiness that I don’t know what it is, but you feel like you’ve been there.  And then one of the local boys is pastor at Spring 	Hill.  Did you know Cemie Clayton?
Muñoz:  Uh-huh.
Watkins:  He is the pastor at Spring Hill.  And that’s a big church too, and they’ve got a nice dining hall.  So I decided, since he was my student, that I was gonna go to his church.  And he was so happy to see me when I walked into church.  And they have how many collections, I don’t know.  But anyway, so I get up there, they were still having Sunday school, so I go at ten o’clock at my church, so eleven o’clock I’m home, so I can go wherever I want to go, because I told the priest--because I didn’t know how the priest was gonna react, me goin’ to all these churches.  So I said, "Father, I want to ask you something.  I’m black and I’m one of the few blacks that’s Catholic.  I’m always invited to the Protestant churches and whatever.  We went to the Baptist church because my aunt was Baptist, but I have never been to a Church of God in Christ church."  You know what he told me?  He said, "As long as you come to your church first, and pay whatever you have to pay, you can go anywhere you want to."
Muñoz:  (laughs)  "Pay whatever you have to pay."
Watkins:  So I told Joe that.  Joe said, "As long as he gets his envelope, he doesn’t care which church you go to."  So I go to my church at ten o’clock, I’m out at eleven.  They’re just still havin’ Sunday school.  So I can come home and go to the bathroom or whatever, and go over there and still, you know.  And I have enough intelligence to--Mama wouldn’t let us go to the Holiness Church because she said, "Oh, it’s so crazy.  When they start shoutin’ you guys are gonna be all over there.  You guys are gonna probably laugh."  But my thing was, I could feel the spirit and not have to get so emotional.  It’s a state of mind.  And then they had this long introduction.  And so I told Simmy....  He said, "Miss Watkins, you know, I have a church now.  You have to come to my church."  I said, "Yeah, I’m very happy that you were lucky enough to get Spring Hill Baptist, and that’s a nice church."  And that’s big.  I guess it’s bigger than the other church, I don’t know--something about the church.  And so when I went, he was gonna have this long introduction.  But he’s smart enough, he went to the university, talked to the students.  So he’s got all these students that come to his church.  They don’t have to drive.  They can just come across the street.  You know, the campus is right [next to] Spring Hill.
Muñoz:  Exactly.
Watkins:  They got all these apartments, but you can walk to church.  The church was full of young people!
Muñoz:  That’s great.
Watkins:  And then he had the audacity to let them know that I was his teacher, and that maybe his teacher would have a word.  That’s why I don’t like to go, because you’ve got to be prepared to say something.  Like I tell them all the time, I’m not accustomed to speaking in church.  But God led me to the church, and I’m very happy that I came today, because I got so much from the lecture, coming from the pastor.  And because he was my first-grade student.  And I could tell when he was in the first grade that he was gonna be a pastor.  (laughs)  Because Simmy would always have some more to say than anybody else!  I didn’t go into any details.  But it makes me so proud.  And he married a local girl.
Muñoz:  Who did he marry?
Watkins:  But you know, they went to Coconino High.  What was the last name?  Robison [phonetic].  You know, they have a little restaurant past J.C. Penney’s.  They  have a little black neighborhood up in that area.  You pass J.C. Penney’s and they have like a little grocery store, and then there’s a lot of trailers and a few houses.
Muñoz:  J.C. Penney’s?
Watkins:  Yeah, you know, when you go to J.C. Penney.
Muñoz:  Oh, past the mall?
Watkins:  Past the mall.  It’s past the mall.  They’ve got a little subdivision there.  And that’s where the Robison kid....  And of course he married one of the girls from there.  And I guess when he comes, because you know he works for the railroad, I think he stays at his daddy’s house when he’s on the road.  But that girl probably just stays with her folks.  [unclear] of where they live over there in East Flag.  And so because he was one of my students, and Reverend Clayton was a pastor too, but Reverend Clayton couldn’t get along with the people here, so he got his own church in Williams.  So he commutes to Williams practically every day.
Muñoz:  I see.  I think we’re done here, and I want to thank you very much.
Watkins:  Oh my gosh, I would love to see that.
Muñoz:  Okay.
Watkins:  [unclear] the tape?