Page 31 of The Women of Oak Ridge
“We did. For the maintenance department but doing different things.”
“How did you first learn about Oak Ridge?”
Roonie spoke before Velvet could answer. “I’d tried to join the Army but wasn’t allowed to, as they said I had a heart murmur. I needed work. My brother heard there were construction jobs up in Tennessee, workin’ for the government. Said they were payin’ good money. I figured I’d go up and see what’s what—”
“And leave me in Montgomery alone,” Velvet added, giving him a mock scowl.
“But mywifewouldn’t hear of me going without her,” Roonie continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “So, we packed up my brother’s car and drove to Knoxville.”
“When was that?”
“October of 1943,” they said in unison.
It was becoming clear this interview would be entertaining as well as enlightening.
“I remember it well,” Velvet said, “because the leaves were turning, and everywhere I looked was something beautiful. Hills covered with gold, red, and orange. God’s handiwork was sure ondisplay.” Then she grimaced. “Except for the mud. I never could get used to traipsing through that red, mushy mess.”
“Georgeanne mentioned that too. Why was it so muddy all the time?”
“Because,” Roonie said, “the government bought up sixty thousand acres of farmland and then proceeded to scrape every livin’ thing off it to make room for what they intended to build. All that was left was dirt. Every time it rained, even light showers that didn’t last long left fields of mud to slog through.”
I jotted some notes, then asked, “What kind of work did each of you do when you arrived in Oak Ridge?”
Roonie nodded to Velvet to go first.
“As I said, I worked in maintenance at K-25. My job was simple: keep the place clean. Me and dozens of other gals swept, mopped, and polished all day, every day. The only jobs available to Black women on the Reservation—we were calledcoloredback then—were janitorial, kitchen, or maid service.”
She went on to give a description of the massive plant, giving me a good idea of what it was like to work there.
“One day I was called to where there’d been a leak that needed cleaning.” A soft smile parted her lips. “That’s the day I met your aunt.”
Here was an opening to learn more about Aunt Mae’s work, but I wasn’t sure it was right to question Velvet. She must’ve read my mind.
“I know Mae doesn’t like to talk about those days. She probably hasn’t spoken much about what she did back then.”
I shook my head. “I’d love to hear about her life as a young woman, but she isn’t willing to share about it. The only thing I know is that she worked at K-25 as an errand girl and had to ride a bicycle around the plant because it was so big.”
“She was such an outgoing gal when we first met. Treated melike an equal. We formed a friendship despite our differences.” Her face took on a serious look then. “But sometime around the end of ’44, somethin’ changed. She changed.”
“How so?”
“She started keeping to herself, I guess you’d say.”
“But you don’t know why?”
Velvet shook her head. “Even though we’d become friendly, there were still rules—spoken and unspoken—about how Black people could interact with white people. Prying into her personal business wasn’t somethin’ I felt I could do.”
Aunt Mae’s words from last night filtered through my mind. “She told me about segregation in Oak Ridge during the war.”
“It wasn’t any different here than it had been in Alabama,” Roonie said matter-of-factly. “Jim Crow laws followed us, no matter where we went.”
They took turns sharing the various ways those laws affected them, from separate drinking fountains and riding in the back of the bus, to poor quality food in the cafeterias that served Black residents. However, I wasn’t prepared when I learned about their living conditions on the Reservation.
“All the Black folks lived in what they called ‘hutments’,” Velvet said, “but they weren’t real houses. I’d describe them as sixteen-by-sixteen shacks made from the cheapest plywood the government could find. They didn’t even have glass in the windows. Just an opening with a wooden shutter that let in the heat in the summer and the cold in the winter. We had a potbellied stove in the center for warmth, but we weren’t allowed to cook on it. The gals I shared a hut with were nice enough, but I would’ve rather lived with my husband.”
I glanced between her and Roonie, confused. “You didn’t live together?”
They both shook their heads.
