The Importance of Place in the Life and Career of a Social Work Pioneer

Abstract

This column explores the importance of place in the life of social work pioneer Hortense McClinton. McClinton's story is underscored by the centrality of place, especially her all-black hometown. McClinton’s insights were garnered through interviews and unprecedented access to McClinton’s personal archives. McClinton’s words explicate the role place plays in shaping values, character, and behavior. Her story exemplifies strength and endurance during times when women and African Americans had staunchly circumscribed roles and limited access to social involvement and resources. This article illustrates the intersection of multiple factors that shaped her life, her career, and her contribution to social work.

Hortense McClinton knew she wanted to be a social worker from the time she was in the eighth grade. During one of her school's obligatory Friday morning assemblies, McClinton was captivated by the woman speaker from the U.S. Children's Bureau. McClinton claims that it was at that moment she found her life's calling, saying, “Oh that's what I want to be” (HM, 2011) . To follow her dream, McClinton set on an educational course that included earning a master's in social work. She subsequently pursued a remarkable career that encompassed many “firsts” and paved the way for other African American social workers. McClinton's career included work with private, public, and governmental agencies, and culminated with a 20-year university professorship.

Examining the lives of African American women like McClinton helps social workers to learn to “think more critically about the centrality of African American women to American history” while simultaneously increasing our understanding of the complexity of American history (Hine, 1994, p. xxiii). As Hine (1994) notes, African American women's history “by its very nature seeks to empower and make visible the lives and deeds of ordinary folk” (p. xxiii). Simply making people aware of remarkable women like McClinton can strengthen and empower practitioners and scholars who face similar challenges in contemporary society.

McClinton's nearly 50 year career was fraught with challenges and opportunities which she approached with determination and grace. Her early life in Boley, Oklahoma helped to prepare her for those challenges and infused a sustaining energy that became an essential part of her political, racial, and social consciousness.

Significance of Place

Hortence McClinton was born on August 27, 1918 and grew up in the all-black town of Boley, Oklahoma. In interviews with McClinton conducted between 2006 and 2013, she reminisced about her hometown childhood experience with tremendous pride and clarity. Between the mid-1800s and early 1900s, all-black towns were not anomalous and many such towns existed in Illinois, Iowa, Kansas, and several other states. Oklahoma was home to 32 all-black towns, which exceeded the number in any other state in the nation (Hamilton, 1991). However, Boley was exceptional among the all-black townships and was reported to be the largest and wealthiest all-black town in the world (Jackson, 1968). The local weekly newspaper dubbed Boley as the “greatest Negro city in the world” (The Boley Elevator, 1920). Early in its history, Boley became a center for activism, promoting voting rights and organizing efforts for the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP). The town’s focus on the principles of racial uplift and self-help was reflected in the name of the local newspaper, The Boley Elevator, as well as in its motto of “All men up—Not some men down” (Hamilton, 1991, p. 127).

The spirit of that motto was infused into McClinton’s perspective and was reflected in her social work career. Her career replicated the values of self-help, self-sufficiency, and racial uplift that were essential elements of life in Boley. Throughout my conversations with McClinton, she spontaneously spoke of Boley and her references to Boley were exuberant. It easily became clear that this town was not simply her place of birth but had deep soul-stirring significance. The place itself had “power sui generis” (Gieryn, 2000, p. 475). Recognizing this, I seldom let mention of Boley pass without follow-up questions. Pursuing the importance of Boley was also partly due to my own sentiments about my homeplace and to the burst of energy that McClinton exulted each time she spoke of Boley. Although it is clear that McClinton sees Boley as an important way to understand and contextualize her life, she has noted with a sense of despondence that previous interviewers often fail to note or tended to minimize the important role Boley played in her life.

The concept of homeplace provides a critical anchor in McClinton’s life and adds significance to any analysis of her life and career. Homeplace, according to Gieryn (2000, p. 466), is defined as a bundle of three essential features including location, material form, and meaningfulness. In this context, homeplace clearly is not simply a reference to housing. McAuley (1998a, p. S35) suggested both history and race were critical for the residents of Boley, “integrating themes for understanding social and autobiographical insiderness and the levels of place attachment” expressed in their life narratives. Through place attachment, a person can develop a sense of security and well-being along with clearly defined group boundaries and stabilized memories that are sustained against the passage of time (Logan & Molotch, 1987). Similarly, hooks (1990) posited that any assessment of homeplace must focus on the lived experiences of African Americans, including their historical, cultural, racial, political, and social consciousness.

According to McAuley (1998a), residents of all-black towns such as Boley shared an intense sense of race pride, self-actualization, and group consciousness. These towns provided a haven for African Americans, unskilled and skilled alike, who were searching for a future without interference from whites, looking to avoid the economic oppression of tenant farming, and seeking safety from the intimidation and violence of Southern white lynch mobs (Hamilton, 1991; McAuley, 1998a). Essentially, Boley represented what hooks (1990) called a “site of resistance,” which was a place where African Americans could avoid dehumanizing experiences, racist assaults, and physical and emotional oppression. For McClinton, Boley appeared to represent both a literal and a figurative site of resistance, transcending place and becoming a critical part of the sustaining energy that she carried with her.

From its founding in 1903, Boley existed as an independent, self-contained town. When Boley was incorporated in 1905, the charter granted the residents “full political control of the town [which] enabled them to formulate policy” for governance and growth (Hamilton, 1991, p. 129). Life in Boley was characterized by self-help and communal obligation. Both the economic and social life of Boley revolved around prominent organizations and institutions, including the Negro Business League, the NAACP, the Masons, the annual rodeo, banks, churches, and other civic groups (Hamilton, 1991).

The theme of place attachment permeates McClinton’s reflections on her life and her professional career. She credits “being born in Boley” for her ability to negotiate the world. For McClinton, the unique character of her homeplace appears to have added value, meaning, and clarity to her sense of purpose. In discussing her homeplace, McClinton has said, “Because I grew up in Boley and everyone there was just a person… I always try to look at a person as a person first” (HM, 2008). Boley also taught her life skills of self-advocacy and self-determination, “You stand up for yourself and you did what was necessary” (HM, 2008). McClinton’s strength of character, her clarity of purpose, and her womanist/feminist activism, along with a stellar career in social work, have been a steadfast embodiment of this perspective.

When McClinton was only 2 years old, her mother died, leaving the child to be raised by her father and an extended family network. McClinton’s father, Sebrone King Sr., was a critical figure in her life. Born in 1865, King was a Renaissance man. He was a graduate of Wiley College, a licensed veterinarian, a town leader, and founder and president of the Boley First National Bank. Other critical figures in McClinton’s life included her older siblings, her aunt, and a maternal uncle, Dr. Stacy C. Thompson who was a physician in nearby Guthrie, Oklahoma. McClinton not only spent vacations and holidays with her uncle and his wife but also stayed with them for extended periods while attending school (HM, 2013).

McClinton recognized that she was privileged to have such support and describes herself as being “somewhat spoiled” because she was so well cared for by her large, extended family in Boley as well as in other parts of the country. After completing high school, McClinton acted against her father’s wishes and attended Langston College in Oklahoma City for 1 year before following her older brother, Sebrone King Jr., to Howard University in Washington, DC (HM, 2013).

Howard University Nurtured a Young Stateswoman

When McClinton arrived on campus in 1936, both Washington, DC and Howard University were exciting and dynamic places. African Americans were migrating to the area at a steady clip, seeking freedom from agrarian life and access to opportunities and education. Like Boley, Washington, DC, was a place of opportunity and possibility for African Americans seeking avenues of escape from Southern oppression. To many of these new migrants, Howard University was the long-sought fountain that would satisfy their thirst for knowledge, education, and social inclusion. Founded by an act of Congress in 1867, Howard University became the “the capstone of Negro education,” with an emphasis on science and the liberal arts (Rosenberger, 1942, p. L10). The University was reputed to be “a conservative bastion of black middle class priding itself on its position as…America’s Leading Negro University and America’s Center of Negro Learning” (Nicholson, 1989, p. D2).

Howard University was home to some of the most important scholars in their fields and provided training for significant numbers of physicians, attorneys, dentists, and other professionals. McClinton recalls that her professors were internationally recognized as leading scholars and researchers. As a student, she marveled at her opportunity to be in the midst of these luminaries. However, McClinton recognizes that many of today’s students “have never heard of [these] great, great teachers…who did so much and contributed so much but today are not remembered” (HM, 2013). She laments this gap, noting “it makes [me] weep almost to see some of the things that have happened after we’ve gone through so much, after we’ve tried to bring about a kind of stability” (HM, 2013). McClinton has expressed her concern that some of today’s students are uninformed and indifferent toward their history. Such attitudes were antithetical to McClinton’s consciousness of place, history, culture, and race; all of which are imperatives for understanding African Americans’ lived experiences.

McClinton was warmly welcomed at Howard University, where she majored in sociology. She not only clearly enjoyed her college experience but also took full advantage of the opportunities offered by the University and its urban setting. In 1934, just 2 years before McClinton arrived at Howard, Dr. E. Franklin Frazier was named chair of the Sociology Department. Frazier was an academic scholar and “public intellectual” (Jarmon, 2003, p. 369) who had directed the Atlanta School of Social Work before assuming his position at Howard University where he introduced the first social work courses into Howard University’s sociology curriculum. As a social activist and an advocate, Frazier’s notion of classroom teaching was grounded in helping students develop the skills and techniques needed to address the “social, political, and economic conditions affecting life in the Black communities” (Jarmon, 2003, p. 369). Frazier advocated for and taught a brand of sociology that “typified an intimate nexus between sociology and social work” and largely dealt with the study of social problems affecting African Americans (Schiele, 1999, p. 108). These were the perspectives toward social problems and social work that McClinton was exposed to as she matriculated through the sociology program at Howard University.

McClinton was part of an elite student body that Howard University attracted and nurtured. She led an active student life and served as president of the Campus Y. In addition, she was elected by the student body to serve as a senior mentor for first-year female students. McClinton acknowledges that student leaders “tried to carry [themselves] like special people,” essentially reflecting the confidence that their fellow students placed in them. In 1937, McClinton was asked to join the Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority nearly 20 minutes before she was approached by the Delta Sigma Theta sorority. Apparently, both sororities saw in McClinton the special qualities that they desired in their group members. She joined the Deltas and was quickly tapped for leadership roles. She was twice elected Dean of Pledgees, which was an extremely important position with both sorority- and campus-level responsibilities. This position demanded strong organizational and interpersonal skills, personal discipline, and the ability to manage groups of high-achieving young women (HM, 2013).

McClinton was part of the African American womanist/feminist tradition of activists. Collins (1991) has described feminist activism, in part, as the struggle for institutional transformation. Through her leadership in the Campus Y, the sorority, and the campus-wide senior mentors program, McClinton’s actions tended to call into question customary rules governing African American women’s subordination. Through her work with women’s groups and civil rights organizations, McClinton found solidarity and a base for activism. Although still in her early 20s, McClinton was fast becoming a sagacious and astute stateswoman.

McClinton graduated from Howard University in 1939, nearly 2 months before her 21st birthday, and moved to Philadelphia to work with the American Friends Service Committee, a Quaker organization. She eventually moved into the famed Wharton Centre, which was a settlement house in densely populated North Philadelphia.

North Philadelphia was a community largely made up of migrants from Virginia and South Carolina, who were part of the Great Migration of African Americans seeking a better life in the North. On one hand, the impetus for this in-country migration was reminiscent of Boley, but on the other hand, North Philadelphia drew stark comparison, given the very poor quality of life that these new arrivals found. New North Philadelphians moved into “acre after acre of crowded, dilapidated homes” that “lacked adequate heat, solid foundations, serviceable roofs, and running water” (Wolfinger, 2009, p. 789).

At the Wharton Centre, McClinton worked under the tutelage of Claudia Grant who was the settlement house headworker. Grant was a highly respected and skilled social worker who reached out to the community and worked with parents and neighbors. Under Grant’s leadership, the Wharton Centre became the first agency in Philadelphia to engage in street corner outreach (Gregg, 2003). Grant also lived at the Centre, on the same floor as McClinton.

The services and programs at the Wharton Centre were similar to other settlement house programs, but the Wharton focus on improving housing in the community was unique. Grant did not devise a strategic political movement to improve housing; instead, she and the other settlement house workers organized neighborhood block associations to improve their own homes through neighborhood efforts toward street beautification, playground development, and social event organizing. The play of agency and contingency gave the community residents a stake in the process of place making through citizen action for planned change (Wharton Centre Records, n.d.). This perspective resonated with McClinton because her life in Boley had given her the understanding of the importance of the efforts of ordinary people to become their own agents in establishing place. McClinton enjoyed settlement work and “decided she liked Philadelphia,” and would stay there. She lived in the settlement house for 2 years (HM, 2011).

Residing in settlement houses was one of the primary ways that early social workers learned about the lives of their clients and the communities they inhabited. Consequently, settlement houses not only served residents of the community but also taught and tested young social workers. McClinton tells the story of her adventures with a group of teenage girls in her charge. Barely older than the teens herself, McClinton agreed to help Grant take the girls on an outing. Grant was called back to the Centre, leaving McClinton on her own and in full charge of the teenage girls. The girls, like many teens, proceeded to test their young leader. The girls laughed at McClinton’s selection of music and played a “game” called the “Dozens” that amazed and horrified McClinton. The Dozens was a verbal sparring match that involved escalating rounds of personal and familial put-downs and insults. McClinton had never heard of the Dozens and she “thought it was just awful” (HM, 2011). However, later that evening when McClinton and the girls were returning from an activity, they had to make their way in the dark. The girls, accustomed to the relatively well-lit streets of North Philadelphia, were terrified of the dark and pressed in so close to McClinton that she could barely move. McClinton got the last laugh, retorting that she grew up in Boley and was quite at ease in the darkness (HM, 2011). To this day, McClinton suspects that there was no emergency in Philadelphia to which Grant had to respond but believes that Grant wanted her to have the full experience and total responsibility of the girls’ group.

Philadelphia and the Training of a Social Worker

Living at the Wharton Centre provided McClinton with the opportunity to interact with the diverse group of people living in the house, the neighborhood residents who used the Centre’s array of services, and the staff of the Centre who ran the various programs and taught the classes. McClinton had many responsibilities at the Wharton Centre, including taking a mothers’ group to the 1939 New York World’s Fair. The mothers’ group was likely composed of women whose children attended the Wharton Settlement nursery school, which was funded through the federal Works Progress Administration program. The mothers’ group gave the women valuable child care information such as lectures on managing “temper tantrums, eating, sleeping, tooth-brushing and toilet habits” (Rose, 2009, p. 226) and provided a venue for the women to receive advice from physicians on various health care issues. In addition, the mothers’ broader interests were acknowledged, which included an excursion to the New York World’s Fair. McClinton recalls that she enjoyed taking the mother’s group to the World’s Fair and accompanied them to whatever exhibit they selected regardless of her personal interests (HM, 2011).

McClinton's personal interests were vast and she was always curious, adventurous, and eager to learn as much as possible. These traits were nurtured during her time at the Wharton Centre and her stay in Philadelphia. She “went to see everything and all the people that came” to the settlement house or to the Philadelphia area, including Paul Robeson in the acclaimed play Emperor Jones, famed pianist Hazel Scott, and the Hungarian-born violinist and conductor Eugene Ormandy who McClinton saw on numerous occasions and casually described as “there all of the time” (HM, 2013).

McClinton had been admitted to the University of Chicago’s School of Social Service Administration as well as the University of Pennsylvania School of Social Work (UPSSW), and she chose to attend UPSSW. Although McClinton was the only African American student at UPSSW and just the third African American graduate in the School’s history, she recalls her status “didn’t matter much” (HM, 2011). This is not to say that McClinton did not have to deal with issues of race and racism. On the contrary, injustices and discriminatory inconsistencies were painful, but she did not dwell on the negative effects as much as she concentrated on correcting the problems and “standing up for herself” (HM, 2011). She was so adept at speaking up and advocating for herself and others that her older brother, Sebrone, laughingly affirmed her behavior by calling her “Sojourner Truth” (HM, 2013). As a self-defined, outspoken African American woman, McClinton did not wear the mask of behavioral conformity very well.

McClinton recalled making a trip via train from Philadelphia to Washington, DC, to visit her brother. While on the train, she exchanged heated words with an intoxicated solider whose parting words to her were, “If [you] was in Charleston they would lynch you!” (HM, 2011). Feeling the threat of the soldier’s words and manner, McClinton left the train station in haste and quickly got into a taxi. When the taxi driver informed her “We don’t take black people in cabs,” McClinton retorted, “Well you’re taking me because I’m not getting out!” The driver apparently had a change of heart and took her to her brother’s home. Once there, McClinton recalled, “He [the driver] got out. He got my bag. He took it to the porch and rang the bell,” which was remarkable because such courtesies were very rarely accorded to African Americans (HM, 2013). Her brother, amazed as always by his sister’s temerity, was also keenly aware of the potential danger that existed for her and decided on a different approach for her return trip. He said, “I’m walking you to the train and putting you on it and sitting you down so you won’t get into any trouble” (HM, 2011). McClinton describes her defiance saying, “That was my Boley in me” (HM, 2011). Acknowledging that Boley was “in her” suggests that McClinton understood her homeplace as a constant source of both strength and defiance (Burton, Winn, Stevenson, & Clark, 2004). Burton and her colleagues asserted that homeplace, as McClinton experiences it, “emerges as a force that individuals have to deal with throughout their lives” (p. 398).

McClinton also recalled her father’s strength and the many instances in which he stood up for himself and protected his family in dangerous situations. Nearly a century later, she recites his parental admonition to her, “You don’t bother anybody. They don’t bother you. But you stand up” (HM, 2011). McClinton’s pragmatic and sober response to these incidents was and is, “There’s always prejudice, even now, just in different forms and you learn to take it. It doesn’t bother you” (Chandramouleeswaran, 2011).

Similarly, McClinton discusses classism from a perspective that minimizes its significance in favor of focusing on the quality of an individual’s character. Her relatively one-dimensional—but widely held—view of class was that a person’s social class was based on behavior and “had nothing to do with money” (HM, 2013). Historian Sharon Harley (1993, p. 787) concurred, explaining the determinants of social class in the African American community such as “decorum, respectability, and moral refinement” were as important as income. Essentially, moral refinement and good manners reflected good character. The community’s focus on character building and moral refinement was the grist of reformer Charlotte Hawkins Brown’s (1941) famed book, The Correct Thing to Do, to Say and to Wear. Brown, founder of North Carolina’s Palmer Memorial Institute and Efland Home for Wayward Girls (Brice, 2007), was confident that refinement, manners, and general correctness were essential to the upward mobility of the African American community. Similarly, Collier-Thomas and Turner (1994) posited that African Americans “developed a class structure that was primarily based on social differences” and that the “most important early indices of class were education and behavior rather than occupation, income and wealth” (p. 8). When class privilege was acknowledged, social responsibility, mutual obligation, and social debt were simultaneously recognized (Carlton-LaNey, 1999; Shaw, 1996).

These values were reflected in the spirit and life of Boley. There McClinton learned that place, not social class, was the interpretive lens through which people were measured, evaluated, and positioned. Grounding in these principles enabled McClinton to develop an attitude of nonjudgmental acceptance of difference. Moreover, these values contributed to her openness and perhaps to her sense of adventure and her intellectual curiosity. McClinton reveled in the diversity of experiences that cities in the Northeast provided. The urban settings of Washington, DC, and Philadelphia stood in stark contrast to the small town and agrarian environs of Boley. However, the opportunities to grow and share in mutually supportive and respectful ways varied little across these settings.

Although Boley was an omnipresent yardstick by which McClinton measured her experiences, the small all-black town did not provide the exploits and excitement of the urban Northeast during the late 1930s and 1940s. Perhaps McClinton’s refusal to be bound by traditional spatially defined social controls helped to fuel her sense of adventure for which she found steady outlets in Washington, DC. In the nation’s capital, she left the safety and sanctity of the Howard University campus to visit the Library of Congress and to sit in Congressional buildings to “listen to the Senate.” Again, McClinton was in the minority during these visits. In fact, the House of Representatives had only one African American member during this time, and the first African American would not be elected to the Senate for another 30 years. Further, racial segregation and discrimination in public facilities were prescribed and entrenched in Washington, DC. Yet insinuating herself into settings where African Americans’ presence was either strongly discouraged or flatly forbidden was a relatively common practice for McClinton. She was unflinching in her defiance and generally disregarded restrictions and boundaries based on race. When recalling her recalcitrant behavior, McClinton laughed at her own daring but never questioned her decisions to act and “stand up for what’s right” (HM, 2011).

While in Philadelphia, McClinton (nee King) met and married John W. McClinton, a native of Greensboro, North Carolina, who was a certified public accountant and worked as a traveling auditor for the North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance Company. By the time the McClintons moved to Durham, North Carolina, in 1948, “The Mutual,” as the company was fondly called, had become the largest African American–owned business in the United States. The company anchored the middle class of Durham’s African American community. McClinton became part of “The Mutual Family,” placing her in the heart of local African American prominence in a thriving Southern town (Crow, Escott, & Hatley, 1992).

A Familiar Sense of Place

In many ways, Durham’s African American community mirrored the all-black town of Boley. Nearly all of the African Americans in Durham “came from someplace else” (Brown, 2008, p. 16) just as the entirety of Boley settlers had migrated to the all-black town searching for or escaping from something. Durham’s African American community embraced capitalism and garnered praise and admiration as home to some of the country’s wealthiest people of color. Similarly, within 8 years of its founding, the Boley Commercial Club claimed that the town was “the largest and wealthiest exclusively African American city in the world” (Jackson, 1968). The commercial success and upward mobility enjoyed by Durham’s elite African American community was accompanied by an equal growth in their sense of self-determination and race pride. Nonetheless, residents of both Boley and “black Durham” experienced racism and the harshness of Jim Crow. Boley experienced pressure for conformity and submission exerted from neighboring all-white towns, whereas black Durham was pressured to conform by the white power structure that controlled the city (Brown, 2008). Despite the pressure and barriers posed by racism, both Boley and black Durham were iconic images of African American uplift and “flourished in a milieu of racial animosity” (Brown, 2008, p. 13), emerging with a strong sense of achievement, a modicum of financial security, and a fierce clannishness.

The social isolation and self-contained physical sectors of both Boley and black Durham nurtured autonomous communities that were determined to be successful. In both cases, places were made as the in-migrants “ascribed qualities to the material and social stuff gathered there” (Gieryn, 2000, p. 472). For example, the Boley Commercial Club maintained steadfast efforts to grow the town and aggressively lobbied the Masons to build their new Masonic Temple in Boley. McClinton recalls that the Masons “met [in Boley] every year in August. People from all over the state would come and you’d see people and of course, they’d stay at your house…so it was a nice, nice place” (HM, 2011). The Masonic Temple was a centrally located, modern three-story building that provided a convenient venue for various meetings and social events, which brought to Boley added income, an array of visitors, and an energy that electrified the town (Hamilton, 1991). The Masonic Temple joined (or was later joined by) myriad other establishments including “a bank, 25 grocery stores, five hotels, seven restaurants, a water-works, an electric plant, four cotton gins, a bottling works, a telephone exchange, and a lumberyard” (Bernstein, 2001, p. 20).

Similar material culture existed in the six-story office building that housed Durham’s North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance Company on Parrish Street (Durham County Library, n.d.). The top four floors and basement were occupied by the Mutual. The Mechanics and Farmers Bank was on the first floor and the second floor was home to the Bankers Fire Insurance Company. The building stood as a testament to the success of the Mutual and was a financial magnet that drew an array of other middle-class enterprises. The racial homogeneity of Boley and black Durham fostered positive group identity and the growth of group consciousness (Brown, 2008; McAuley, 1998b).

Historians have analyzed both of these African American communities in an effort to understand and explain the unique nature of the culture and characteristics of these communities (Brown, 2008; Hamilton, 1991). Hamilton (1991) suggested that Boley’s success as an all-black town could be primarily attributed to two factors: the presence of the rail line and the acceptance of a black nationalist ideology among the upwardly mobile residents. Similarly, Brown (2008, p. 14) argued, “Black Durham emerged as a symbol of black nationalism and black pride.” Essentially, both towns symbolized the power and self-determination of African American communities.

McClinton’s sense of group identity and her level of consciousness were nurtured and reinforced by growing up in Boley, having the support of an extended family system, and being exposed to an array of prominent social institutions. Her education and training at Howard University under Frazier’s leadership also supported the importance of consciousness raising, activism, and self-help among African Americans (Jarmon, 2003; Platt & Chandler, 1988). Similarly, Jessie Taft, her professor at the UPSSW, taught McClinton that social work must insist on the “mastery of its own theoretical system and the assumption of full responsibility for defining its functions and practices” (C. T., 1960). These experiences surrounded McClinton with prominent scholars and creative, critical thinkers who were on the cutting edge of an empowerment framework in social work education and who dared to confront the system.

When McClinton moved with her husband to Durham, she was prepared to settle into a familiar and comfortable lifestyle that would continue to support her belief in group identity and in the strength of the African American community. Through a web of affiliations including family, church, sorority, and friends, Durham became a warm and comforting haven for McClinton.

The McClinton’s had two daughters, born in 1948 and 1956. McClinton and her husband agreed that she would not work outside the home while their children were young. However, while her first daughter was very young, McClinton worked a few hours each week at the W.D. Hill Play School, a private day nursery established by a group of young mothers who desired this experience for their children. In 1954, McClinton accepted a full-time position with the Durham County Department of Social Services (DSS) which she held for 2 years until the birth of her second child.

Durham, like many Southern cities in the 1950s, was experiencing racial turmoil and instability. Although the U.S. Supreme Court’s decision in the 1954 Brown v Board of Education Topeka “challenged the doctrine of separate but equal” (Crow et al., 1992, p. 164), the North Carolina legislature dug in its heels and voted overwhelmingly to maintain racial segregation in the schools. The tenacity of the white-dominated legislature to resist change and maintain Jim Crow penetrated every aspect of the Durham environment and negatively affected the African American community’s access to resources and their general quality of life. Consequently, despite the vigor of black Durham “conditions of oppression and want persisted for African Americans” (Brown, 2008, p. 340). Moreover, the overt systemic racism of the time was reflected in Durham’s social organizations and agencies, including the county DSS. Although the Jim Crow restraints were pervasive, African Americans were persistent in their efforts to “resist and reshape” their oppressive conditions (Brown, 2008, p. 341).

McClinton faced her own challenge to resist and reshape oppressive conditions when she joined the staff of the Durham County DSS, becoming one of three African American professionals employed by the agency. McClinton was supervised by a white female social worker who did not have educational credentials comparable to McClinton’s. At the Durham County DSS, race, rather than expertise, determined which social worker was assigned to work with a particular adult or child. Therefore, McClinton was assigned a caseload composed exclusively of African American foster children. The overt oppression at the DSS was underscored when the agency’s director stated publicly, without compunction, that he would “never have more than three Negroes on his staff at any given time” (HM, 2011).

The DSS director also established a practice of taking white staff members out to lunch to celebrate their birthdays and Christmas. His usual choice of an ideal dining site was Harvey’s Cafeteria, which was a trendy, well-patronized, and staunchly segregated eatery in downtown Durham. Because African Americans were not allowed to enter Harvey’s as patrons, the DSS director, in a faint attempt at fairness, offered each of his three African American staff $1.25 so they could dine at an establishment that served African Americans. As might be expected, this pitiful gesture was met with resentment and anger. Two of the African American social workers demonstrated their resentment by refusing to accept the money. On the other hand, McClinton accepted the money while announcing that she wanted her money so that she “could give it to the NAACP” (HM, 2008). McClinton’s efficacious and defiant response informed the DSS director that she was uncompromising and unafraid. Her actions also suggested that she was closely identified with an organization that was committed to fighting for her rights and for the achievement of social justice.

McClinton has discussed several other incidents of blatant racism that she experienced while employed at Durham County DSS. For example, policy and/or practice dictated that all children in DSS custody were to receive their medical care from the clinic at Duke University Hospital. Further, the caseworker was responsible for ensuring all children on her or his caseload received the needed medical care. On one of these clinic visits, a young girl in McClinton’s charge was being treated by a clinic intern for the tremendous pain she was experiencing in a swollen leg. When the intern handled the girl’s leg roughly, the girl instinctively snatched her leg out from his grip. According to McClinton, the physician seemed indifferent to the young girl’s pain and angrily responded, “Don’t you do that, you Black bitch!” (HM, 2013). McClinton, a seasoned professional at this point, controlled her inclination to lash out at the physician. Reeling from the anger and pain that this remembrance brought back even decades later, McClinton said, “You know that just really upset me, because being from Boley, you know, you don’t…but anyway…” and her voice trailed off as she began to describe her response to this incident (HM, 2013). She immediately removed all of the children on her caseload from the Duke Clinic’s care to seek medical treatment for them elsewhere. This type of response was typical of McClinton’s refusal to bow to the systematic restraints at the DSS. McClinton’s employment at the DSS placed her in a social work community that was predominantly white. This copresence did not facilitate a shared experience or engagement but instead continuously encouraged McClinton’s estrangement (Gieryn, 2000). The Duke University clinic staffed by white physicians, some of whom disrespected their African American patients, also facilitated McClinton’s estrangement. McClinton responded to this place estrangement by gravitating to the African American community where she felt respected and valued. McClinton’s sense of agency and self-efficacy prompted a swift response to the disrespectful treatment of her clients.

She approached Dr. David Cooke, an African American physician in the Durham community, and conveyed the details of the incident at the Duke Hospital Clinic. Dr. Cooke was empathetic and understanding. The legacy of racism and segregation in the medical profession is well documented (Baker et al., 2008; Carlton-LaNey, 2000; Savitt, 1987), and it is unlikely that Dr. Cooke had been spared its effects. The American Medical Association’s vehement opposition to extending membership to African American physicians along with other blatant discriminatory practices continued well into the 1960s and 1970s (Baker et al., 2008). Dr. Cooke had probably experienced effronteries similar to those heaped on McClinton and the foster children in her care. He reassured her that he would treat all of the children on her caseload and would charge her only $1 per child. McClinton said, “I took my children from Duke” and transferred them to Dr. Cooke who “agreed to take my children all for $1.00 apiece and he gave me samples and things for them and I agreed to pay him $1.00” (HM, 2013). She continued, saying that she “would pay for them [myself] rather than take them back to Duke.” McClinton paid the medical fees “out of [her] own pocket” (HM, 2013). Today, nearly 60 years later, McClinton’s opinion of Duke University Health Systems continues to be colored by the trauma of that incident; her estrangement is solidified and as she conceded, “I don’t have much use for Duke” (HM, 2013).

McClinton left the Durham County DSS in 1956 to have her second daughter. About 4 years later, she accepted a position at the Veterans’ Administration (VA) Hospital in Durham. She remained with the VA from 1960 to 1966. She was the first African American professional staff member hired by the Durham VA Hospital. She recalled, “Some of the people were quite racist.” She was hired to work in the VA’s Psychiatry Department where she worked mostly with white veterans, given that few African American veterans used the psychiatric services. She also worked on a research project that was conducting follow-up interviews with veterans who had received treatment at the VA hospital. McClinton’s work on the project required that she travel to the veterans’ homes that were within a 75-mile radius of Durham. She found the veterans and their families to be “exceptionally nice” and “really glad to have that kind of follow-up.” However, McClinton believed that the generally warm welcome she received from the veterans came as “quite a surprise to some of the people who had sent [her] out thinking that it would not be such a pleasant experience” (HM, 2013). She recalled other examples of subtle harassment she experienced at the VA such as when “they took chairs out of [her] office, easy chairs, and different things they did” (HM, 2013). Again, rather than belabor the racism that she encountered at the VA, when asked about her professional move from child welfare to adult mental health, McClinton remarked, “Social work really prepares you for so many things” (HM, 2013).

The Academy Offered a Comfortable Departure From Direct Practice

In 1964, McClinton was asked to join the faculty of the UNC School of Social Work, an offer that she weighted thoughtfully and ultimately rejected. By this time, McClinton had established a professional presence along with a positive professional reputation. While working in the Psychiatry Department at the VA Hospital, she had ably supervised students enrolled in the UNC master’s of social work program. In addition, McClinton was an active member of the local chapters of the National Association of Social Workers and the National Association of Black Social Workers. Her involvement with these organizations provided her with increased visibility as well as a network of social work colleagues, both of which likely contributed to her invitation to join the UNC faculty. After some prodding from colleagues and friends, McClinton accepted the faculty post in 1966 becoming the University’s and the School of Social Work’s first African American faculty member. Overall, her experience at the UNC School of Social Work and the larger university community was positive, and she described her colleagues as “very, very lovely people” (HM, 2013).

McClinton’s schedule while on the faculty not only included teaching but also included a heavy load of committee work and an extensive commitment to student involvement. McClinton believed she did her job well and enjoyed her experience at the UNC School of Social Work. Over the years, she became a “much appreciated” master teacher who was “absolutely adored by her students” (HM, 2006). Nearly three quarters of a century later, McClinton still recalls her UPSSW advisor, Dr. Virginia Robinson’s response when she told her of her impending move to North Carolina. Robinson, had remarked, “[you] could go down there to the University of North Carolina and teach” (HM, 2013). However, the suggestion angered McClinton because, as she noted, the UPSSW, “didn’t have any Black teachers…and yet she [Robinson] thought I could come here and teach” (HM, 2006). Robinson’s offhanded remark stuck with McClinton, and she characterized the suggestion as “rather cheeky” and audacious, particularly given that Robinson seemed to ignore the racism and discrimination at her own university. Today, McClinton smiles with some sense of satisfaction as she acknowledges that Robinson’s erstwhile suggestion had come to fruition.

Conclusion

McClinton’s life and career illustrate the role that place can play in molding and shaping values, character, and behavior. Her story of a second-generation African American social work pioneer raised in an all-black town is a story of strength and endurance during a time when both women and African Americans had staunchly spatialized and circumscribed roles with limited access to social involvement and resources. McClinton’s story is underscored by the centrality of place, especially her homeplace, in shaping her self-concept, her attitudes, her worldview, and her life possibilities. It is through an understanding of McClinton's homeplace as a “site of resistance” that we more clearly understand how place impacts political, racial, and social consciousness. The story of this pioneering social worker illustrates the intersection of multiple factors that shaped her life and career. The breadth and depth of such a remarkable woman cannot adequately be captured in a few pages; it is hoped that this article will provide a firm foundation upon which to build a more detailed rendering of Hortense McClinton’s life story.