GoogObits:
Obituaries and essays augmented by Google seaches. There is a lot to learn from the dead.

Friday, February 7, 2003

Superior It's convenient and comforting for us to read an obituary, like the one below, that harks back to a darker time. A time that we can look back on, and go "tsk tsk", and feel superior and grand. Lucille Lawson was a woman and she drove a cab. There was a time that that was unique and strange. It's not anymore. So it's cool for us to look back and look down at those who felt it was odd and/or wrong that a woman was earning money by transporting people in yellow vehicles. I wonder what we'll look back on in 50 years and feel superior about. Maybe the idea that it used to be OK to kill thousands of people because the guy who runs their country won't share his oil with you. LUCILLE LAWSON, 84 One of Chicago's 1st female cabdrivers By Brad Webber Tribune staff reporter February 7, 2003 In the mid-1950s, Flash Cab Co. in Chicago took an unusual turn and put women behind the wheel. One in that vanguard of seven was Lucille Lawson, a veteran driver tired of passenger double takes. She had previously tooled the streets of rural Crystal Lake as a taxi driver for two years and operated 2.5-ton cargo trucks at a Florida air base during World War II. Mrs. Lawson, 84, died of complications from Alzheimer's disease Friday, Jan. 31, in a nursing home in Minerva, Ohio. "She was a woman ahead of her time, gutsy and fiercely independent," said her daughter, Carol Pace. "She never had a bad experience [as a cabbie]. But my mother was a beautiful girl. She wasn't like a truck driver." Despite being an accomplished road warrior and a radio dispatcher with an encyclopedic knowledge of the city, Mrs. Lawson--then Lucille Craven--told the Tribune: "Men whistle and kids laugh. But I like to drive and I like people. It seems perfectly normal to me." Her best tip at the time was $1.65 on a $3.55 fare. "There were very few women brave enough to venture into the field," said Paloma Ott, an administrative assistant at Flash, who said there were no female drivers when she started with the company in 1946. "It was a male occupation. Many of the passengers were astonished to see a woman driver." Javad Rahmaniasl, a manager at the company, said: "It took courage at the time to drive a cab. I've been in the cab business since 1972, and I didn't see that many women drivers into the 1980s." Mrs. Lawson was born in Chicago and attended Lucy Flower High School on the North Side before working as a truck driver and cabbie, homemaker, switchboard operator and worker at a small electronics firm. "But driving was a passion of her life," said her daughter, a former bus driver for Elgin-based Unit School District 46. A son, Gary Craven, drives a bus for disabled children in Ohio. "She had no fear. Anytime she had a problem, there was a good Samaritan willing to help, but she was always one to help others too," her daughter said. In her later years Mrs. Lawson would not hesitate to hop in the car for a drive to Florida and back. And though she was a good driver, she never thought twice about batting her eyes to get out of a traffic ticket, her daughter said. "I remember us heading to a Cubs game and going down Clark Street. She saw a parking spot on the other side of the street and pulled a U-ey. A police officer pulled us over and she told me, `Whatever you do, let me do all the talking,'" she said. "So here this sweet little old lady from Crystal Lake is saying, `Oh, Officer, what did I do?' And she's got this big Cubs shirt on. He never gave her a ticket. "She was always happy when she was driving a car." Other survivors include two more sons, Thomas and Ronald Craven; 15 grandchildren; and 23 great-grandchildren. A memorial service will be held Friday in Ohio. Copyright © 2003, Chicago Tribune (Registration required) 11:43:42 PM    comment []

Sauce Someone's got to feed the revolution. ARGIA B. COLLINS, 76 Restaurateur created Mumbo barbecue sauce By Brad Webber Tribune staff reporter February 6, 2003 South Side entrepreneur Argia B. Collins launched his own brand of barbecue sauce long before boutique brands cluttered store shelves. He also provided the fuel, quite literally, to the civil rights struggle of the 1960s, as his popular barbecue restaurant was a frequent source of free nourishment for a young Rev. Jesse Jackson and other organizers of Operation Breadbasket, a predecessor of Operation PUSH. Mr. Collins, 76, died of heart and kidney failure Saturday, Feb. 1, in the University of Chicago Hospitals. Born to a large family in Indianola, Miss.--one of the few black families to own the land they farmed and one of the few of any race to own an automobile--Mr. Collins was instilled with the desire to be his own boss early on, said his family. In the early 1950s, he opened his first Argia B's Bar-B-Que House at 47th Street and Forrestville Avenue, which relocated to 78th and Halsted Streets, and later added a location at 71st Street and Yates Avenue and a third in Gary. He sold all three and retired in 1992. "He had always wanted to be in business for himself," said his wife, Susie."He always had a desire and drive. He was always searching for new ideas," which included an ill-fated music production company, June 1st Music, which in the early 1970s released a few rhythm and blues records by the group The Velvet Hammer, Artie "Blues Boy" White and Garland Green on labels such as Susie, Dodie and Tammy, named after his wife and children. Although the venture was an expensive one, "He always said `can't' shouldn't be in your vocabulary," his wife said. "He was a risk-taker," said his daughter Allison Butts, president of Select Brands Inc., maker of his Mumbo Barbeque Sauce in original, hickory and tangy flavors. His flashiness and snazzy attire made him a magnetic figure for a community in search of positive role models, said Hazel Thomas, a longtime Operation Breadbasket volunteer. "He was something visible that all the young people could see. He was a real dresser and he had a winning personality," Thomas said. Mr. Collins experienced the struggle of being an African-American businessman and getting bottles of his product, developed in 1957, in the big chain stores. By 1968 Mumbo sauce was sold in Jewel, Dominick's and other big stores. "When Rev. Jackson first came to town, he was very poor," Thomas said. "Because Argia B. was just so free, we'd call over there and say, `Rev. Jackson wants to know if it's OK if we can get some food. Somebody would get the car and go get it. "Whoever needed to be fed, we'd tell them to go to the barbecue house. It was phenomenal. Argia was well-loved. He was a kind, generous person. We ate a lot of barbecue." Mr. Collins is also survived by two sons, Argia B. Jr. and Don; five more daughters, Tamra Collins-Mumphery, Yolanda Brown, Argia Babette Watson, Verna Lynn Tucker and Misty; a brother, Caesar; a sister, Laura; 13 grandchildren; and 6 great-grandchildren. Visitation will be held from 11 a.m. to noon Friday, when a service will begin in A.A. Rayner & Sons Funeral Home, 318 E. 71st St., Chicago. Copyright 2003 Chicago Tribune (Registration required) 1:10:56 AM    comment []