by Paul R. Spitzzeri
Most of the contents of the special section of the 12 February 1909 edition of the Los Angeles Times regarding the Black community of the Angel City that we have profiled over nine parts of this post have concerned men, as leaders in business, education, religion, fraternal orders and societies and, as members of the military. There is, though, one page, headed “The Negro Woman in Los Angeles and Vicinity—Some Notable Characters,” with a lengthy and remarkable article, under the general concept of “The Feminine Side” and titled “Both Refined and Cultured in Life.”
The author was Kate Bradley Stovall, born in Austin, Texas in 1884 and raised by her father’s brother and his wife in Los Angeles, where, in 1903, she finished her education at the commercial campus of Los Angeles High School. The Los Angeles Times of 26 June reported that she, one of a quartet of speakers at the graduation ceremony, delivered her oration “with distinguished honor both to herself and the class” and that the “tall, lithe, good-featured colored girl” spoke in a manner that was “eloquent, concise and strong.”
The topic was “The New South” and it “enlisted her sympathy and brought out the warmth of her nature toward her race, though no mention was made of any race.” This, obviously, was a choice, even as she “talked warmly of the progress in the South and its rapid strides toward a place of greater importance in the commercial world.”
The closest Stovall came to touching upon racial issues is when she remarked that “this progresss [sic] may well be termed wonderful, for it did not begin with the Constitution of the United States.” While it was noted that “this first sentence brought the first applause,” no attempt was made to analyze the meaning, though she seems to have meant that our nation’s foundational document did not provide the prescribed protections for African-Americans.
The Times continued that “her summary of the industrial progress and coming commercial importance of the new South was worthy a statesman, both in subject matter and manner of delivery.” It was added that, while she received no bouquets of flowers for her speech, “the audience perceiving the probably thoughtless omission, redoubled its applause.
The paper further observed that the ovation was such that “no more fragrant and complimentary bouquet could have been tendered her” for the excellence of her address and then concluded that “in the numberless mass of bouquets that massed the front of the stage there no doubt were a goodly number for her, as well as for the other graduates.”
Stovall was active in several organizations, including the Southern California Alumni Association, comprised of African-Americans who went to college; the Black literary group, the Woman’s Progressive Club; and a Woman’s Parliament of the Wesley Chapel of the Methodist Church, featured in part nine of this post.
Stovall was married in November 1904 to bank porter William Stovall and had two children, a son William, Jr. and a daughter, Ursula, when she wrote her article. She began the essay with the note that,
The history of the negro woman in Los Angeles and the immediate vicinity is indeed an interesting one. During the pioneer days of California, there were perhaps not more than a scant dozen negro women south of the Tehachepi [Tehachapi Pass]. The few who reached the far west shared the hardships of pioneer days, and several have left records of interesting careers.
The first of the highlighted women was Biddy Mason (1818-1891) and Stovall remarked that, when District Court Judge Benjamin I. Hayes issued a habeus corpus ruling freeing her and other Black persons held against their well by slaveowner Robert Smith, “a most remarkable legal fight was terminated” because it “gave a negro woman the right, through hard work, thrift and business ability, to lay the foundation of a fortune, which today actually amounts to $300,000.”
The account continued that Mason and her children were brought to southern California by Smith and “it was her especial work to care for the sheep which were to be brought across the desert, and . . . she trudged patiently behind them, ever mindful of her charge.” In April 1851, the Mormon Smith settled at San Bernardino, founded that year by his co-religionists, but, he later decided to move to Texas and take his slaves with him, even though California was a free state (though not one that espoused racial equality.)
When Smith temporarily moved to Santa Monica Canyon near the Pacific and west of Los Angeles, “Charles B. Owens, a young free negro boy of Los Angeles, visited these people” and “it was to him that Biddy revealed the master’s plans for their departure.” Charles talked to his grandfather, Robert Owens, Sr. “and he at once took legal steps to effect the emancipation” of Mason and the others, including their arrest and confinement in the County Jail “under the vigilant eye of ‘Turnkey’ Frank Carpenter.”
Upon her release, Mason worked as a nurse (including for Dr. John S. Griffin) and Stovall recorded that she purchased an interest in a lot and “later, through her business tact, she purchased the remaining interest” and acquired clear title. Then, “with surprising rapidity she acquired other property,” though told her descendants “this first homestead must never be sold.” That tract remained in family hands and comprised the Owens Block, on the east side of Broadway, between 3rd and 4th streets, with the lots running through to Spring Street, and where the Biddy Mason Memorial Park is now.
Stovall continued that,
Biddy Mason was well known throughout Los Angeles county for her charitable work. She was a frequent visitor to the jail, speaking a word of cheer and leaving some token and a prayerful hope with every prisoner. In the slums of the city she was known as “Grandma Mason,” and did much active service toward uplifting the worst element in Los Angeles.
It was added that Mason “paid taxes and all expenses” for the First African Methodist Episcopal Church after it was established in 1869 “to hold it for her people,” while she also kept an open tap at a grocery store (that of Charles Brode) to help with those affected by a flood in the early 1880s (likely that of 1884). Moreover, her home was “a refuge for stranded and needy settlers,” though, as Mason aged, her grandson Robert C. Owens had “to stand at the gate each morning and turn away the line which formed for her assistance.”
Ellen Huddleston, Mason’s daughter was described by Stovall as an “exceedingly sagacious business woman” who “made extensive improvements on the lands inherited from her mother” while also having “continued the accumulation of real and personal property.” With her son, Robert C. Owens, Huddleston “has made many wise and paying investments,” including apartments.
Also highlighted was Alice Rowan Johnson (1868-1912), the daughter of the late Charles Rowan, a barber, and Elizabeth Flake. Elizabeth was brought to San Bernardino by a Mormon ancestor of former Arizona Senator Jeff Flake and she may have informed officials in Los Angeles of Robert Smith’s plan to go to Texas. Remarking that Rowan-Johnson “is justly proud of being one of California’s Native Daughters,” Stovall recorded that, after attending San Bernardino public schools, a teacher, Mary Goodcell, told Rowan-Johnson’s mother that “she should be fitted for the profession of teaching.”
At 16, with Goodcell, the young woman enrolled at the Normal School for teacher education at Los Angeles, located in the Bellevue Terrace section and where the Central Public Library is today. On Christmas Day 1886, Rowan-Johnson was among 16 graduates and it was added,
Although the first student of her race to enter the State Normal, she received every mark of courtesy and respect from both faculty and students. As she was taking leave of her alma mater, [Principal] Prof. Ira Moore, who knew no “color line,” calling her aside, gave her the following recommendation, which he said might be of service in her future career . . .
“Miss Alice Rowan has just graduated at this school. She is a good student, standing well up in her class and being particularly successful in teaching and managing the practical school. She is a young lady of excellent character in morals and manners, and we confidently recommend her to districts which are liberal enough to overlook the question of color, as one to make an eminent success of the school in which she is employed.”
Rowan-Johnson was hired at the Trujillo School in Riverside, which she resided prior to receiving her teacher education. This campus was in the La Placita area and was named for Lorenzo Trujillo, who was a vital part as a trail master for the Rowland and Workman Expedition migration on the Old Spanish Trail in 1841. Notably, the school was comprised of Latino students, so the hiring of a Black teacher was certainly easier there than at a school made up of Anglo pupils.
After earning a post-graduate teaching certificate, the same as one for life and not requiring renewal, the superintendent of schools under which Rowan-Johnson worked for two years commented, “her work was most excellent, very much above that done by the average teacher” and that “she is thoroughly educated, careful and kind” and he “heartily recommend her as a teacher.”
Upon her marriage to Frank Johnson, who ran a carriage company in Riverside, she left teaching, but Stovall noted that Rowan-Johnson was a temperance organization superintendent and taught music, while also raising five children. Further, the writer praised her subject by remarking, “Mrs. Johnson is in every way an honor and credit to her race, and is a woman of whom it may be truthfully said that she is leaving footprints of greatness upon the sands of time.” Additionally, Stovall commented that
In recent years the intellectual development of the negro woman in and about Los Angeles has been compatible with that of the women of her race throughout America. She has branched out into many different institutions of learning. She has grasped the opportunities placed before her in this thriving commercial city of the west.
Another woman highlighted was Betty Cooper, who was a widow with three daughters when she settled in Los Angeles in the early 1890s and “instilled into the minds of her daughters the possibilities of buying and holding Los Angeles real estate. This included property on 20th Street between Figueroa and Flower streets and on which there was a ten-room house, while she had another residence in the Pico Heights area near the boulevard of that name and her family homestead in Georgetown, Texas, north of Austin.
A section headed “Negro Business Women” mentioned a hairdressing parlor owned by a Mrs. Davis at Main Street and Pico Boulevard and which was “well patronized by many Los Angeles society leaders,” while it also employed African-American women who had a “trade by which they may support themselves.” While it was not stated, this enterprise reminds of a predecessor in that field, Caroline C. Burton, who operated a successful hairdressing establishment in the Angel City for some two decades from the 1870s to 1890s.
Pasadena also had a Black woman-owned hairdressing parlor, while a Mrs. Wagner ran a successful restaurant in Redlands. Francis Dawson was the proprietor of the “Furlong Tract Grocery Store and Meat Market” and also operated a poultry-raising business with “several well-equipped incubators” operating almost continually.
Though Stovall did not mention it, the Furlong Tract, in the south part of Los Angeles, then part of Vernon, was subdivided in 1905 and was one of the few areas in which Black people could buy property and not be subjected to restrictive covenants. Some 200 houses were built there and many businesses, including Dawson’s, operated, while the 51st Street School became the first all-Black school with the Holmes Avenue School on the site now.
Dressmakers and tailors were also featured, including the Cartar sisters and Ella Baber, who employed other African-American women “and have completed many expensive hand-made wedding trousseaus for the brides of notable weddings in and about Los Angeles.” Laura Young, since the mid-1890s, worked as a tailor in white-owned businesses and “received her instructions in this trade from a member of her own race, Pasadena resident J. C. Jackson. After running a shop in Bakersfield, she returned to the Angel City and, in 1910, was a deputy county recorder, specifically for marriage licenses.
The next portion of the article concerned “Lovers of Art” and we’ll return with the next part of this post taking up Stovall’s essay from there, so be sure to check back with us for that.
All the Black women mentioned in this post were admirable role models, particularly Biddy Mason, who has earned my highest respect. She did not dwell on the suffering of her years in slavery, nor did she abandon hope but move forward with hard work. In her later years, she witnessed the enactment of the Jim Crow laws, yet she was not defeated by the growing tide of segregation and discrimination. Instead, she continued her charitable activities with unwavering commitment.
As noted in this post, Biddy Mason often visited jails to encourage and pray for inmates. She must have observed the disproportionate number of Black individuals in prison relative to their share of the national or state population. Since the late nineteenth century, African Americans have consistently been overrepresented in incarceration statistics, accounting for 30–45% of the prison population despite representing only 10–13% of the general population.
Biddy Mason grew up and lived in a society marked by hardship, segregation, persecution, and discrimination. Yet the legacy she left us was not one of angry defiance or militant resistance against injustice. Rather, she embodied persistence, compassion, and personal triumph – achieving what would rank in the top 2% of American wealth distribution by today’s standards.
More than a century later, I strongly believe our society should continue to learn from her example – helping ourselves as well as helping others to move toward dignity and stay away from incarceration.