I spent the morning of July 16 visiting the precise locations where the dramatic Elizabeth Jennings story unfolded in Lower Manhattan. Why July 16? Because that is the anniversary of the date in 1854 when she was assaulted and removed from a segregated streetcar. While walking from place to place, and trying not to get run over, I was being interviewed by a Famous Person and his recording team for his new podcast. Famous Person was a swell guy and a good sport. In fact, he carried my purse so that I could juggle my map and a bottle of water. (We were all desperately drinking water. It was 90-plus degrees which meant that on the pavement it must have been closer to 100.) Despite the challenges, I believe the podcast may turn out well! I'm very grateful for the opportunity. Stay tuned! I'll let you know when I can share more about it.
One Author's Life (Opinion)
Dirt roads that reverted to marshland every time it rained, no sanitary sewer system, tons of horse manure (and even the occasional dead horse), packs of stray dogs and wild hogs Read More
Signs for “Colored” Riders in Manhattan?!
A slave market in New York City?!
That’s just a portion of the back-story I included in my new biography of Elizabeth Jennings, a black schoolteacher who refused to leave a segregated streetcar in Manhattan in 1854, setting into motion Read More
Why a book on Miss Jennings? Because, frankly, she needed one. She was 164 years overdue.
I had stumbled across her story and started researching it as a hobby Read More
My new book, Streetcar to Justice, has an especially good one. I learned of the topic thanks to an old, abandoned Victorian house.
From 1987 to 1996 my husband and I lived in Ossining, New York, a village on the Hudson River about Read More
Why middle-grade for Streetcar to Justice? Because it’s the right audience. Read More
I had to say goodbye to my little canine writing companion recently. She was (we think) eleven and a half years old. Her name was Dot, and she was a tiny Boston Terrier.
If you’ve ever had a pet, you know the pain I am feeling. I miss her so.
Dot had a
My dad always had a strange reaction to Memorial Day Weekend, or so it seemed to me as a little girl. Yes, it was the beginning of summer and we celebrated (if that is the right word) with hamburgers on the grill and root beer floats.
But I realized from an early age that the so-called “holiday” was a time when my dad, a World War Two Army veteran and normally a very upbeat person, was also quietly grieving.