Jensen Cowan (pronouns: They/Them) was born July 4, 1997 in Brandon, Florida, and discusses growing up in Socastee, adjacent to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, in an emotionally and verbally abusive home. They discuss chosen family and close friends, their relationship with their mother and four sisters in a blended family and what it meant to leave home to start a new life at the College of Charleston, with mentions of being in the Bonner Leadership Program there. Cowan describes the struggles of separating from their family financially and finding a method to pay for school. Working with We Are Family and attending functions of Alliance for Full Acceptance (AFFA), Cowan felt “discrepancies in maturities” in various groups, eventually finding supportive friends and neighbors to help with personal issues and the need for food. Cowan discusses identifying as queer, nonbinary, and trans, mentions a fundraiser they started to help pay for surgery and speaks of their capstone project to map all the gender-neutral bathrooms on the College of Charleston campus. Cowan notes a lack of response from College administrators on this and other LGBTQ oriented issues, describes the inconveniences and disruptions caused to their college studies by this lack of facilities and speaks to the insensitivity of some faculty and friends in using offensive vocabularies and inappropriate pronouns. Cowan and the interviewer discuss the lack of diversity within Charleston Pride, and the larger LGBTQ movement as a whole, while praising classes and faculty, such as Dr. Kristi Bryan, within the College’s Women’s & Gender Studies program and the positive effect it has had on them and others. The interview closes with a discussion of Cowan’s plans for the future after graduating in May 2019, having earlier mentioned a disinclination to return to working as an educator/camp counselor at Kids On Point (formerly Chucktown Squash), due to the fact that the students there would have known them under a different name.
Jamie Nadeau (pronouns: She/Her/Hers) describes her journey to self-realization as a lesbian trans woman and a successful business owner of a hand-press greeting card printing company in Charleston, South Carolina. Born in Nashville, Tennessee into a religious Church of Christ family, Nadeau attended religious schools. Her father, a member of the Potawatomi Nation, and her mother divorced when she was young, and she speaks of trying to reclaim and learn more about her native American heritage. Born intersex, Nadeau retains early childhood hospital memories and speaks of her conservative upbringing where LGBTQ people were seen as “cultural oddities” and trans people were thought “horrific monsters.” Trying to imagine herself as a lesbian in that conservative environment “broke my brain,” and she had to go through the “impostor syndrome” before claiming and becoming comfortable as her true self. Embracing technology and computers long before they were commonplace, she was a young hacker and researched gender identities in cyberspace when others perhaps were still using libraries. She attended Middle Tennessee State University for a year, where and when she first began to explore her identity; she then studied at, and received her degree from, the Savannah College of Art and Design. After her mother’s death, Nadeau vowed she would never wear men’s clothes again and began seeing a gender therapist. She quickly began sharing her status with friends, family and her wife Allison, meeting wholehearted support from the latter, and a variety of responses from others. Nadeau speaks to the various levels of acceptance from the religious community, and from her biological and chosen families. She speaks at length of her experiences in coming out, noting how “soul crushing” being “misgendered” in public can be, and praises the Charleston trans women’s community for being so accepting and supportive, affirming the importance of support groups and loyal friends. Nadeau also describes how she and her wife, Allison, friends since childhood, followed their fascination with printing and design and left their professions to become proprietors of their greeting card company, Ink Meets Paper. There is a brief discussion focusing on Charleston being a safer space for LGBTQ people than other areas of the Deep South, and in response to the interviewer, Nadeau suggest that LGBTQ people should not necessarily focus on otherness, but see the world as she does, a place of countless, diverse narratives, where people are to be encouraged for finding their own way and lauded for their strength in “occupying space” in a world of proscriptions and possiblities.
Steven Willard (pronouns: He/Him), a white yoga and meditation teacher in Charleston, SC, speaks about his life and changes seen in society and in the LGBTQ community over the years. With a father in Vietnam when he was born, Willard and his family moved to North Charleston, SC when he was six. It was "small town, USA," and Willard attended church and public schools, where, knowing he was different, he found a friend who was also gay. As a teen, he worked in a record store in a mall and found comfort in seeing people he could identify as LGBTQ even as he sought further "validation" in movies, books and on television. He describes how he and his friend, with false IDs, attended bars such as the Garden and Gun Club and the Arcade, and the impact it had on them. While distanced from his father, he had a fairly good relationship with his mother; yet being discovered as gay as he finished high school at eighteen in 1986, led to his removal from his home. He moved to New York City where he felt safe for the first time. Mentored by an older gay man, he worked in a variety of jobs. Growing up in SC, he had had no access to positive information about gay life or AIDS prevention, and throughout the interview, Willard marvels at his luck at surviving the death and devastation around him. He returned to Charleston in 1993, left periodically, but came back. He found it necessary to be closeted working for the Department of Motor Vehicles, and coming out, experienced prejudice and harassment. He stood up to this, however, noting, "I might have been a fag, but I wasn't a punk." An interest in yoga lead him to teaching, and in the 1990s and afterwards, he witnessed a change in the city triggered by the empowerment from surviving AIDS. He noticed more gender fluidity in younger people and in himself in such places as the Treehouse bar. He gives a vivid description of the celebrations that occurred in Charleston when marriage equality was achieved, unfortunately, very close to the time that the massacre at Emanuel AME Church occurred. Throughout, he speaks of the loss of honesty, and face-to-face communication that social dating apps have brought about and then mentions the loss of LGBTQ spaces in the city, specifically describing Dudley's as a gathering spot for bridal parties. He regrets the lack of political involvement on social issues, such as abortion, among younger people, yet also believes that being LGBTQ "just living our lives is a form of activism." In reply to how being LGBTQ has influenced his life, Willard responds that, if not challenged as a minority and faced with prejudice, he could have become complacent. "Like women, people of color, LGBT, we all have to realize that we ?re in those cross hairs of these straight white Christian dudes, and we all have to fight together."
Barbara Nicodemus (pronouns: She/Hers), white retired school teacher, discusses her life, which she describes as "pretty boring," "pretty golden," and one lived under a "miracle cloud." Growing up in a close-knit, loving and accepting Catholic family in Indianapolis, IN, she accompanied her parents to marches and rallies in Chicago as a youngster. She attended Catholic schools (where she had to get permission to take physics instead of home economics), Ball State University, and Purdue, majoring in science education and later in biochemistry, when it was unusual for women to do so. Involved with another woman academician, she helped organize and run a women's center, "really a lesbian" center, and never encountered any sort of pushback there for her views or actions. She gave up working at Eli Lilly and Company, not agreeing with their philosophy, and moved with partner to various other universities, eventually moving to Clemson, SC. Starting a new career, Nicodemus became a high school teacher and had her education loans forgiven by teaching in the rural area of Walhalla, South Carolina. There, she was a "breath of fresh air," being out, when so many people were not. She continued to live under that "miracle cloud" of never facing any prejudice against her for being a lesbian, which she attributes to her personally being "passable" in her looks, and due to the Southern pattern of behavior of not being confrontational. After a year-and-a-half of attempts at artificial insemination, she gave birth to twin girls, whom she and her partner raised. While their relationship ended, the women remained close both emotionally and geographically. Nicodemus started and ran the "Upstate Women's Community" for lesbians for about ten years, putting on events to raise funds to help publish a newsletter. Teaching school, she was a role model for some students and staff and she expressed her disapproval once when an older friend dated a student. Retiring, she moved to Charleston with her wife, where she is involved with the Charleston Social Club, has joined book clubs (one specifically for lesbians), and volunteers to work with senior dementia patients. In speaking on LGBTQ topics, she notes her belief that gay men, like her brother, who also has children, might face more discrimination that gay women do; she describes her long-standing attendance at a women's festival, ponders its stand as terfs, trans-exclusionary radical feminists, not opening the festival to trans women, and questions her own thoughts on the topic. Being LGBTQ has just made her human, she feels, earlier noting that LGBTQ people often work harder than their straight peers, just to prove their worth. She ends the interview suggesting that while she has lived a life "in neutral," she has occasionally, when needed, shifted into "drive."
Shelli Quenga (pronouns: She/Hers), describes living all over the world, moving to Charleston in her 20s and coming out as a lesbian in her 40s. Her father was in the Air Force, and she discusses her experiences being the daughter of a mixed-race couple with a Guamanian father and a white mother. Educated at Vassar, she married twice. Although she had a gay uncle, “it just never occurred to me that being gay was an option,” she states. Married with one child, she met another woman with four children (two withs special needs) and their relationship began; the coming out process was “tortuous.” During it, she lost a relationship with her daughter, her parents, and her job due to its homophobic work environment. Quenga discusses how her experience differs from that of lesbians who never married men, noting her realization that heterosexuality did give her more power and status. She speaks of her obliviousness to LGBTQ people and issues before coming out and her limited awareness of the Charleston LGBTQ community. That changed once she met Lynn Dugan and began to attend functions organized by the Charleston Social Club, a local lesbian group that Dugan founded. She describes the pressure she feels to keep her personal and business lives separate, including on social media, while also observing how such mundane things as health care forms can be off-putting to LGBTQ people and express subtle discrimination. With the passage of time, she has become more vocal in order to demonstrate to others how misleading or stereotypical their assumptions about her can be, and she has found a shift in those around her, too. She and her wife have been accepted by their extended families, their children now have LGBTQ friends, and Quenga discusses how they keep her up to date with terminology and issues in the community. She mentions the rupture in the congregation of Old St. Andrews Episcopal Church over the ordination of a gay bishop, and ends the interview discussing racism and sexism in South Carolina, and how an inability to be fully free and out causes her to question staying in the state. Her advice for younger people, however, is to leave the state, achieve success not possible here, and then perhaps come back.
Joseph Kelly (b. 1962) describes his experience growing up in an Irish American family living in New Jersey and Texas. The only background information he knows of regarding his family is that his paternal great-grandfather was from Roscommon, and that he came over to New York City in the late 1890?s. Both of his parents grew up in Irish neighborhoods in the Bronx and were the first generation in the family to go to college. The family moved from New Jersey to Houston in the late seventies, and he notes that there was not a real sense of Irish ethnicity in Houston, as compared to what it was in the Northeast. He also notes that the sense of Irish culture, and celebration of Irishness, is growing in Charleston as a result of the public outreach he has done as Director of the Irish and Irish American Studies program at CofC.
Thomas Horan describes his experience growing up in an Irish American family in Boston. The paternal side of his family comes from County Galway, his paternal grandmother having come to the United States when she was sixteen, before Irish independence. His maternal grandmother married a man of Scotch-Irish descent. He was raised in the Catholic Church, as a result of what he refers to as an insistence on ?middle-class respectability,? and his family was close with some of the priests from the area, however, he is no longer an active participant in the Church. Though living in an area with a lot of Irish meant that the family didn?t experience any particularly significant discrimination, there was a sense of wanting to assimilate and move up into the middle class. He moved to the South in 1999, first to attend graduate school at Chapel Hill, and then to Charleston. He states that, in terms of anti-Irish or anti-Catholic sentiment in the South, there seems to be more continuity in population here than in northern cities, which perhaps makes things harder for new ethnic populations to integrate.
Anne Owens speaks about her experience growing up Irish American, having Irish ancestors on both sides of her family. She spent her childhood in California but moved to Charleston after her mother remarried. Her maternal grandmother?s family came from Anglo-Irish roots in County Offlay in the 1860?s, entering the U.S. in Boston and making their way to Michigan. Her paternal grandmother?s family was from County Fermanagh and came to the U.S. in the early 1800?s, through Georgetown, South Carolina, and eventually settled in Cheraw. It is through this side of the family that Anne is related to Patrick Lynch, who became Bishop of Charleston in 1855. Her great-great grandfather, James Thomas Lynch, married a woman from the Pinckney family, so Anne has deep family roots here in Charleston, as well as in Colleton County, where her great-great grandparents owned the Ashepoo Plantation. However, Anne also has a familial connection with her stepfather?s family, who are native Charlestonians, as her research has led her to discover that her biological father and her stepfather are in fact cousins, due to their shared Charleston roots. She feels a deep connection with the Shannon River area in Ireland, where her maternal ancestors had lived for centuries as landed gentry. Though she sees ethnic identity becoming less prominent as the years go on, she likes ?seeing America as an amalgamation of many, many people.?
Stephen Gilroy talks about his experience growing up in an Irish American family in New York City and New Jersey. His grandparents came from County Leitrim, County Longford, County Cork, and County Waterford from the mid-1800?s to the very early 1900?s. All of his grandparents were in the working-class, as cabinet makers, butchers, dock-workers, and other blue-collar jobs. There wasn?t much focus on Irishness in his family while he was growing up, though he did have a strong relationship with an uncle who told him about all of the Irish families in the area. He?s been to Ireland with his family and has been to the church in County Leitrim where his paternal grandparents are from. He feels a connection with Ireland, which he describes as a ?magical? place. He and his wife moved to Charleston recently to be near their daughter, and he states that there is less of an emphasis on ethnic identity in Charleston, and more emphasis on a general Southern identity.
Eric Sullivan (Pronouns: He/Him/His) describes growing up Easton, Maryland, moving to Charleston, SC to attend the College of Charleston, his graduate school training in Los Angeles, CA and his work as an LGBTQ therapist. One of five siblings, Sullivan knew he was different at "a pretty young age," and had a sense that he was gay before fully understanding what that meant. He "never got any messages growing up?about ? what the LGBTQ community was," but did have access to television programs such as Will and Grace and Queer as Folk. Coming out first to a friend, and then to his mother, he came out in "a public declarative statement" as part of a high school group project studying conversion therapy, realizing he could not just remain "a neutral party." He had experienced some negative responses before coming out, but very little afterwards. Sullivan explains his decision to attend the College of Charleston where he had his "first glimpse into gay culture" at a gay straight alliance meeting and at the gay bar Patrick's, and later Pantheon, both of which he describes. He notes with satisfaction how LGBTQ visibility has increased on campus since his years in school and recounts how a chance encounter working as waiter led him to graduate school in Los Angeles in the first LGBTQ counseling program in the country. He worked with homeless LGBTQ youth, adapted to the life there, was licensed and eventually moved back to Charleston, where, after some trepidation, he opened a practice specifically targeting LGBTQ clients. Responding to queries from people throughout the state seeking his services, he developed a successful on-line video practice before the COVID 19 pandemic. The interview concludes with Sullivan discussing the impacts of isolation, religion, and the lack of visibility on South Carolina's LGBTQ community, as well as other mental health issues.
Douglas Seymour (pronouns: He/Him/His) relates the story of his abusive childhood, growing up and attending school and college in Charleston, SC, his life as an adult, and his work as a peer navigator for people with HIV, often speaking forcefully on the corrosive impact of homophobia. He was beaten by his father for not liking sports and cars, and, although he adored his mother, she told him “being gay was worse than being a child molester and a child murderer.” He always knew he was attracted to men, and if “there hadn’t been the hitch of being told it was wrong...it would have been a natural flow into adulthood.” He graduated First Baptist High School, and due to his father’s demands, attended the Citadel, terrified that he would be picked on for being gay. There, however, he found acceptance among upperclassmen for his knowledge of pop music and found other gay cadets. Having started frequenting the bar Basin Street South as an underage teen, he began going to the King Street Garden and Gun Club, and Seymour recalls his times there and that era of the late 1970s and early 1980s as one of the happiest periods of his life. After college, he worked as a journalist in Summerville, SC, and he describes the cliquish nature of Charleston gay life at the time. His lack of self-esteem, he says, prompted his alcoholism and his settling into personal relationships that were often abusive. He lived in Washington, DC, from 1982 to 1991 and returned to Charleston with a diagnosis of AIDS, told by physicians to prepare to die. After living with his parents, and coming out to them, he moved into his own apartment and received health care from his physician and Lowcountry AIDS Services. Facing health crises, he quit drinking and quit smoking, hired a personal trainer and was in the best shape of his life in his fifties. He began to work for the local Ryan White program as a peer navigator for people newly diagnosed or those long-term survivors like himself. Seymour describes some of the social support programs he set up and notes the quandary of “a whole bunch of us gay men...[with] no career, no retirement...because we weren’t supposed to be here, and now we’re older, we’re isolated...[and] it kind of feels like nobody wants you.” The interview ends with reflections on the lack of a variety of specific spaces for LGBTQ people and how Charleston has changed over the years.
Stephen “Steve” Cagle (pronouns: He/Him/His) discusses his upbringing in North Carolina, education as a pharmacist, service in the armed forces, his experiences as a gay man in the South, abroad and in California, and eventually opening a gay bed and breakfast with his domestic partner, Charles S. Holt, at Folly Beach, SC. Born in Concord NC, he grew up with an ailing father who died young, and a mother who struggled to find her son positive male role models. Knowing he was gay from an early age, Cagle, while having sexual experiences, kept quiet about his orientation in his hometown where such things were not discussed, but not necessarily condemned. He had somewhat closeted affairs when he attended pharmacy school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Drafted into the army, Cagle, wanting to serve his country to fulfill his father’s inability to do so, found a fairly tolerant attitude to gays in the military. Despite others being out, he was more reserved, yet he mentions sexual experiences at bases at home and abroad in his service in northern Italy. After leaving the service Cagle lived in Henderson, NC, and then in Charlotte, NC, working as a pharmacist. He describes a gay bar in Charlotte sharing a site with a Denny’s Restaurant and explains the allure and dangers of anonymous sex in rest stops on the Interstate 85 Highway corridor in North Carolina, mentioning a Highway Patrolman who frequented those sites. Having been raised an only child and feeling he lacked social skills in befriending people, Cagle did find relationships, eventually falling in love with a married US Marine who suggested Cagle move to California in 1977 to be near him. There, the affair ended, as Cagle knew it would, but he met Charles (Chuck) Holt, who worked in Los Angeles, reading film scripts and crossing paths with celebrities such as Liberace and Rock Hudson. The men became a couple, and they began to explore their options in 1986 after Holt discovered he was HIV positive. The couple pulled up stakes, began an extended road trip across the country, guided by Damron’s Gay Guides, and ended up founding and running the gay Charleston Bed and Breakfast at Folly Beach. Cagle discusses the place’s importance, its success, the friendly acceptance it met on Folly Beach, also mentioning Hurricane Hugo, and how others, including his mother, came to accept him and help run the B and B after Holt’s death in 1995. Cagle sold the B and B, retired from the Ralph Johnson Veterans Administration Hospital and now lives in Charleston with his husband John Meffert.
Blanche McCrary Boyd (pronouns: she/her/hers) describes the events that lead to her becoming an acclaimed novelist and professor at Connecticut College. Born in Charleston, SC in 1945 to working class parents, she lost her father at age 15, one of the crucial events of her life. Living with family on a 400-acre plantation near Rantowles, SC, she became “radicalized” by events seen on television, realizing, unlike other members of her family, that she lived in a racist society, finding a “sense of horror” and a “sense of beauty” in the South. She attended Duke University and met Dean Boyd, the man she married, while attending Harvard University summer school. Boyd credits her husband for helping her mature and encouraging her writing once she decided upon that as a goal. Moving to California, Boyd began writing seriously at Pomona College, and won a Wallace Stegner Fellowship in creative writing at Stanford University. Her marriage unraveled, as she discovered feminism, and her attraction to women, bringing her to a “different reality.” She had starting drinking alcohol soon after her father’s death and she spent over a decade abusing it and drugs as she moved to New York and became a “radical lesbian.” She helped set type for the classic novel Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown, and founded Sagaris, an “institute for feminist thought,” associating with leading feminists, including accused bomber Patricia Swinton. She published essays, mostly about the South, in The Village Voice, learned how to “seize” her authority, and published books on popular musicians under the name Vivian Claire. She returned to Charleston, continuing writing and publishing novels, becoming sober in 1981. She discusses how a teenage car wreck involving a Black man’s death became the “fulcrum of my understanding of life” and how it serves as a metaphor for America as she wonders “what white people who are anti-racist are going to do about white supremacy.” She and her wife Leslie are the mothers of twins, James and Julia, and Boyd reflects on parenting, Leslie’s life-threatening illnesses, and how her novel Tomb of the Unknown Racist has capped her fiction writing career. As retirement from Connecticut College looms, she assesses her accomplishments, notes satisfactions, and the many surprising turns her life took.
Samuel Cooper (pronouns: He/His) discusses his upbringing, life history and beliefs, focusing often on the topic of being a gay African American man of faith. When his father, minister of Centenary Methodist Church, Charleston, SC, joined the military to become a chaplain, Cooper and his family began a peripatetic life that took them to various bases in this country and in Germany. Knowing early he was gay, seeing his homosexuality as a "gift," Cooper nevertheless suppressed it, eventually coming out to his family who accepted him, partially, he believes, due to his father having had counseled many LGBTQ men and women in the military. He notes both the benefits and liabilities of being Black and of being gay and describes an episode of crisis at Clemson University. A homophobic comment by a member of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes prompted him to leave that group, come out, join, and become an officer of Clemson's LGBTQ organization, the Lambda Society. He faced near dismissal from Mercer University's Walter F. George School of Law for being an advocate of LGBTQ visibility, and later in the interview he discusses the impacts racial prejudice, both Black and white, and homophobia, can have on clients he represents as a personal injury attorney. In his return to South Carolina working briefly in the Fourth Circuit Solicitor's office, he traveled the state; Cooper, throughout the interview, gives many details of various bars in Columbia, Myrtle Beach and Charleston, describing their appearance and layout and the groups attending them. Once relocated permanently to Charleston, SC, he attended the Metropolitan Community Church and its off shoot, Open Door. He discusses his relationship with his husband, Stavely Edgar, recounts some failed homophobic attacks against him, and notes little or no pushback against Edgar and himself as an interracial couple. He speaks of his religious faith, the Black church, his opinion of historically black colleges possibly limiting experiences for their students, and the threats menacing minorities and democracy due to the presidency of Donald J. Trump.
Adath Yeshurun in Aiken, South Carolina, celebrated its 75th anniversary on May 4, 1996. Presentations by Sunday school students and performances by guest singer Gloria Greenbaum and the men’s chorus were followed by a series of speakers who shared their memories of the Jewish community and congregation, as well as histories of some of Aiken’s early Jewish families—Efron, Franzblau, Persky, Panitz, Polier, Rudnick, Sawilowsky, Schneider, Surasky, and Wolf. Other subjects of discussion included the Sons of Israel Cemetery, the murder of Abraham Surasky, and a short-lived Jewish farming association established in nearby Montmorenci in 1905, dubbed “Happyville” by its promoters.
Aaron Small, born in Columbia, South Carolina, in 1939, to Sara Berry and Harry Smolowsky, changed his surname when he was eighteen years old because it "was not a business name." Aaron graduated from mortuary school in Cincinnati, Ohio, in 1959 and returned to Columbia to work for a funeral home that also had an ambulance service. While working as an EMT on the ambulance service, he met his wife, Betty, an emergency room nurse. They married in 1961. Betty, a Christian, converted to Judaism prior to the wedding, but returned to the church sometime later. Aaron was drafted into the army in 1962 and served for eighteen months in the Fort Bragg mortuary outside of Fayetteville, North Carolina. In 1965, after returning to civilian life, Aaron bought a funeral home in Denmark, South Carolina. There were a number of industries in the small town about fifty miles south of Columbia, which he felt was a positive indicator for growth. However, in the following decade, companies began leaving. The interviewee believes this was attributable to white parents pulling their children from the public schools. Aaron describes daily life in Denmark and mentions the other Jewish families living there at the time—the Druckers and the Nesses. The Small family moved back to Columbia around 1975 and Aaron sold firetrucks to South Carolina municipalities while working on establishing a new funeral home business. In 1978, he opened McMillan-Small Funeral Home in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, with Stephen McMillan, Sr. After developing an allergy to formaldehyde, Aaron left the partnership, and took a position with the Myrtle Beach Fire Department, assuming command of the volunteer rescue squad in 1987. Up to that point, he had been a volunteer firefighter-EMT in the various places he had lived and had launched the volunteer rescue squad in Denmark. Aaron discusses the other firefighting jobs he held in Myrtle Beach, Richland County, and the state. By 1997, the family had returned to Columbia to help care for Aaron's mother. Aaron talks about antisemitism he experienced in Columbia while in high school; his two children, Michelle and Stuart; the Jewish community of Myrtle Beach, in particular, the recent Israeli immigrants; and how the FBI handled student protesters at Voorhees College (HBCU) in Denmark in the late 1960s. "The FBI came in one day and they just took over the funeral home" so they could make use of the two-way communication system he used for his ambulance service.
Abe Dumas was born on Sullivan's Island, South Carolina, in 1913, to Esther Read and Mendel Dumas, who emigrated from Lithuania in the first decade of the twentieth century. The couple followed Esther's brother Frank Read, who had settled in Moncks Corner, South Carolina. Mendel joined Frank in his mercantile store, until he opened his own business in nearby Bonneau. In this interview, Abe describes his father's dedication to making a living in America. Besides maintaining the Bonneau enterprise, Mendel invested in land for timber and farming, and opened stores in Charleston, South Carolina. In 1912, he and Frank Read built a five and dime store on the corner of King and Spring streets. Three years later, they parted company and Mendel bought a pawn shop at 220 King Street. By 1918, he had moved Esther and their five children (Lenora, Mary, twins Abe and Joe, and Yetta) to Charleston. "He knew," Abe reports, "that he could not raise a Jewish family in Bonneau." The Dumases were members of Brith Sholom, one of two Orthodox synagogues in Charleston. Abe notes the family was not very observant, although he and his brother celebrated their bar mitzvahs. The interviewee recalls how he and Joe began peddling around age twelve and began working in Mendel's Charleston store at sixteen, while their father commuted to Bonneau. They loved the work but didn't care for the pawn shop business in particular. In 1930, they switched to clothing and were very successful, which Abe attributes to carrying uniforms and hunting apparel. "Then when we moved to King and Society, we had there one of the largest operations of men's and family clothing in the city of Charleston. And it still is." Abe discusses growing up in Charleston, and the subtle antisemitism he observed in his early years. He remembers "divisiveness" between the Reform and Orthodox congregations, but says it no longer exists since an "economic level of parity or better came into existence." He attended the College of Charleston and, in 1936, married Dorothea "Dottie" Shimel Dumas. They had two children, Lynn and Carol. Abe reflects on what Americans knew about the Holocaust during World War II and the failure of the United States and other countries to assist Jewish refugees. Dumas tells the story of meeting George Gershwin in 1933 on Folly Beach, while Gershwin was in the area collaborating with DuBose Heyward on Porgy and Bess. For a related oral history, see the 1996 interview with Joseph Read, Mss. 1035-090. For a related collection, see the Louis M. Shimel papers, Mss. 1055. Although mentioned only briefly in this interview, the Dumases were founding members of Synagogue Emanu-El; see Mss. 1141 for the congregation records.
Abel Banov draws on memories of his childhood in Charleston, South Carolina, to describe his familys customs, the synagogues, his fathers business ventures, the local merchants, and the differences between the citys uptown and downtown Jews. In 1939, he was hired by the North American Newspaper Alliance to cover stories in Spain just after the Spanish Civil War ended and, in the 1940s, he was founding editor of El Mundos English newspaper in Puerto Rico. He married Joan Heinemann, who fled Nazi Germany in the late 1930s.
Mary Ann Pearlstine Aberman, the elder of two daughters of Milton Alfred Pearlstine and Cecile Mayer Pearlstine, provides some background on her mother’s family the Mayers, whose ancestors arrived in the United States from Bavaria in the early 1800s, and her father’s family, the Pearlstines, who emigrated from Germany to South Carolina in the mid-1800s. Born in Charleston, South Carolina, she describes growing up in the Hampton Park Terrace neighborhood of Charleston, next door to her first cousins. The family did not keep kosher but they did observe Shabbat by lighting candles before dinner and attending Friday night services at the Reform synagogue, Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim (KKBE). She remembers that Jewish Citadel cadets were invited to join members of Charleston’s Jewish community for worship and holiday observances; they even taught Sunday school. She met her husband, Edward Aberman of Rock Hill, when he was attending The Citadel. Mary Ann reviews some of her father’s civic contributions to the Charleston area, particularly his involvement in the South Carolina State Ports Authority, and she recalls Pearlstine family involvement in Brith Sholom and KKBE. She also briefly discusses the founding of Emanu-El, the Conservative congregation, in 1947, noting that KKBE lost some of its members to Emanu-El at that time. Mary Ann is joined in this interview by Edward Aberman. See also Edward’s interview on the same date (Mss. 1035-221), the Abermans’ interview with fellow Rock Hill, South Carolina, residents Jack Leader, Harriet Marshall Goode, and Martin Goode on September 21 , 1999 (Mss. 1035-218), and an interview with Rock Hill native Sophia Marie Friedheim Beers (Mss. 1035-220).
Edward Aberman, one of two surviving children of Bessie Samet and Sol Aberman, discusses his family history. The Samets, originally from Russia, immigrated circa 1914 to the United States from Cape Town, South Africa, where Bessie was born. They followed Samet family members to North Carolina, and ultimately settled in High Point. Sol Aberman, the son of a Russian immigrant, grew up in Chicago and left home when he was young, traveling around North America as a member of a band playing clarinet in a variety of venues, including circuses. During one stop in High Point, North Carolina, he met Bessie Samet. After they married, the couple lived in Chicago and North Carolina for a time, before settling in Rock Hill, where Sol assumed leadership of its small Jewish community. He hired students and circuit-riding rabbis to conduct holiday services, and was instrumental in building Temple Beth El in the early 1940s. Edward, who was born in 1932, describes growing up in Rock Hill, how his family observed the Sabbath, and efforts by coaches from Clemson, University of South Carolina, and The Citadel to recruit him to play football. He attended The Citadel in Charleston, where he met his wife Mary Ann Pearlstine. Mary Ann joins Edward in this interview. See also Mary Ann’s interview on the same date (Mss. 1035-222), the Abermans’ interview with fellow Rock Hill, South Carolina, residents Jack Leader, Harriet Marshall Goode, and Martin Goode on September 21 , 1999 (Mss. 1035-218), and an interview with Rock Hill native Sophia Marie Friedheim Beers (Mss. 1035-220).
