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Teddy Williamson's journey to Niagara Falls began about 90 years before he was born in the now-prosperous city of Aiken, S.C.
Aiken had been known as just another crossroads town in the Deep South, but William Aiken Sr. changed that. Between 1830 and 1833 he built what was then the longest railroad in the world, the Charleston and Hamburg line -- 136 miles long, with one terminal in Charleston and the other in Hamburg, S.C.
Today Aiken hosts the largest contingent of federal personnel seen in those parts since the Civil War days. During the 1950s the Atomic Energy Commission began construction of the Savannah River Plant on 200,000 acres just outside the city. Nearly 100 manufacturers offering a wide range of products have settled in the area, which also supports a fully accredited four-year regional campus of the University of South Carolina, a technical college, and a state-of-the-art regional medical center.
But even with all of the progress Aiken has seen since his days there, Teddy Williamson says he would "never, never, never move back there; visit maybe, but I'd never go back there to live."
Born Dec. 3, on a cold day in 1923, Teddy's journey to Niagara Falls, N.Y. was launched like that of millions of other African-Americans who were trapped in the Southern economy based on the morally bankrupt sharecropper system fed by the textile industry.
One day in 1926, his dad's brother got into a little minor trouble with the law, but back in those days, he says, "any kind of trouble was big trouble for black folks." His uncle decided the best thing for him to do under the less-than-pleasant circumstances, was to get out of town, as far away as possible, so he hopped a train. No one really knows which train he took, but when he reached the end of the line, he was in Niagara Falls, N.Y.
"As soon as he arrived he got a job at Union Carbide," says Teddy. "Jobs were just that plentiful then and it seemed like it didn't matter then what color you were."
His uncle got word back down to Aiken, and it didn't take much coaxing to convince his father to follow his brother up to Niagara Falls. Six months later he was working at Union Carbide too.
A few months after that, Teddy, Mrs. Williamson, his oldest sister Lucille, and his brother Joe Jr. boarded a bus for the long ride up North. It was 1927.
"Back then a shoe box had a dual purpose, the main one of which was to serve as a food container," he says. "Black people used to (I still do) fry up a bunch of chicken, boil some eggs, bake a batch of cookies, wrap up a few pickles and whatever else you could stuff into a shoe box that would not spoil overnight, and use that as the sole source of food while traveling."
Almost all the black people lived on the East Side back then, he points out. "Only one or two families lived on the North End in those days. Allen Avenue, 24th Street and Mackenna Avenue were IT! Everybody got along. We were not the only ethnic group there. Polish, Slavic, Italians, Jews, Greeks, everybody who were newcomers lived on the East Side."
After his father saved up enough money, he purchased the "Big House" at 2420 Mackenna Ave. A gentleman by the name of Frank Brandisi sold the house to Mr. Williamson on a land contract. It's still in the family.
"My dad was so proud to finally own a piece of property. He was very proud of that. It was such a huge place, he decided that we would live in one part of the house and he rented out rooms to single men who, like him, had come to Niagara Falls in search of work and were saving up enough money so they could send for their families too.
"The neighborhood was absolutely fantastic back in those days. Everybody trusted each other. You could leave your doors unlocked all night and nobody would bother you.
"Everybody looked out for each other. Black, white, it really did not matter. We were all in the same boat," he says.
"I never really encountered any overt racism that I was aware of until I left Niagara Falls to join the Marines in 1943," he said.
Traveling with about 20 other Marine recruits on the way to Paris Island, a bartender in Washington, D.C. refused to serve them because he, the only black man in the group, was with them.
"It happened again when I attempted to board the train with them to training camp. I was ordered off the train and instead of Paris Island, I was sent to Camp Montford Point, N.C., a segregated facility where black recruits were trained. I could not believe it. I was back in the South again, being treated this way by the United States government!"
But again, he made the best of it as a proud Marine, a member of the Special Weapons Division, 52nd Defense Battalion. Discharged, he enrolled at the Simmons Mortuary Science School in Syracuse, graduating in 1947.
After serving apprenticeships in New York City, Syracuse and Buffalo, he was fully licensed, but nobody would hire him.
He was told white patrons might get upset if they knew a black man was handling their deceased family members, he says.
Finally, desperate to be in business, he opened and ran with his mother, Little Joe's, a cafe right next door to the famous 210 24th St. "It was a natural. The men who were arriving every week from down South were looking for some good home-cooked food and my mother and I gave them what they wanted for a fair price with healthy portions. It was a huge success until the place mysteriously burned down. We never reopened."
He went back to work at Union Carbide and married Gertrude in 1952. He took a second job as a sign painter for the Pine Sign Company with Robert Caggiano and stayed there when Union Carbide laid him off. When they laid him off again, he decided at the age of 36 that it was time to go into business for himself.
His biggest break came when the owner of the Bell Funeral Home decided to sell his business to him.
"It was not easy," he says. "But nothing worthwhile ever is."
Mr. Bell even sent him his first clients, telling them if they weren't satisfied with Williamson, he would refund their money.
"Now, that's an endorsement!" Teddy smiles. "We have been there ever since. We have been in business continually for 42 years, the oldest, most successful African-American business in Niagara Falls." It is now the Williamson Funeral Home.
Today a respected figure in the community, surrounded by children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, Teddy Williamson has come a long way from that sharecropper's cabin back in Aiken, S.C.
"Time is your most precious gift," he says. "It comes directly from God. Use it wisely. We only get so much."
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | April 30 2002 |