Genealogical research is fascinating, but usually bloodless, about cold census, birth, marriage and death records, deeds and wills and who begat who who begat whom, and most of all, obituaries. We seldom learn anything more than a hint about who a person really was. But once in a while it becomes something entirely different.
In
2007, a woman who lives in an eastern NC city sent me a note asking
if I could find out what happened to her aunt, her mother's sister,
the second week of June, 1946 in Winston-Salem. She had a name and
little else, so I was pessimistic.
But
right away I found an article in the newspaper, then another, finally
six in all, about her aunt. It turned out to be a tragic story. But
like most newspaper accounts, it was at best fragmentary. So I took
the accounts, added other resources, including help from the
Greensboro Public Library, a reporter with the News and Record in
Greensboro, my always reliable colleague Molly Rawls, and of course,
our invaluable microfilm, city directory and North Carolina General
Statutes collections, and wrote what I hope is a coherent narrative
of what actually happened. I just wanted this woman to know the truth.
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The
Court Square Hotel Tragedy
Saturday,
June 8, 1946. The
afternoon train from North Wilkesboro pulls into Greensboro's Union
Station. Two young women from the country town of Hays, got up in
their best finery, step down onto the platform. They have come to the
big city to have some fun. The war has been over for nearly a year,
but there are still hundreds of thousands of American troops overseas
in the occupying armies of Europe and Japan. And yet as many at still
active bases scattered around the country, including the huge
Overseas Replacement Depot in Greensboro known as ORD. Since 1943,
more than 300,000 soldiers, five times the population of Greensboro,
have passed through ORD. So the odds of finding some fun are pretty
high.
The
two young women from Hays emerge from the cool depths of the station
into a sweltering late spring heat wave. For several days now the
afternoon temperatures have risen into the mid to high 90s. The
center of action is several blocks away. They have two choices. Taxi
or bus. Well, they are almost certainly a little tight on money, so
they probably take the bus.
By
the time they are at Elm and Market Streets, the crossroads of the
Carolinas, they are sweating, wilted summer roses. But they are full
of optimism, determined to have a good time. We have no way of
knowing where they went. There are many restaurants, cafes, taverns,
saloons and dance halls. The frenzy of war time is still upon the
land. And on this day, the heat of the night is upon all.
At some
point our young women hook up with some soldiers. There is,
undoubtedly, eating, drinking. But one of the soldiers is judged
unsatisfactory. They manage to ditch him. The remaining soldier knows
just the right guy for this party, so the trio takes a taxi to the
bus station in High Point, where they connect with his friend, who
turns out to be just the right guy, as advertised. More eating and
drinking, and dancing, no doubt.
Now
there is a problem. Where will this party end? North Carolina has a
law, General Statute 14-186, that makes it a class 2 misdemeanor
(maximum penalty a fine and/or 30-179 days in jail) for an unmarried
couple to register at any hotel, public inn or boardinghouse "for
any immoral purpose," whatever that might be. The soldiers are
aware that both the Greensboro and High Point police departments have
been vigorously enforcing this law, known euphemistically as "the
Hotel Law." They think that the third point of the triad might
be a little less diligent, so the foursome hires another taxi and
sets out for Winston-Salem. Soon they are deposited on the sidewalk
in front of the Court Square Hotel.
The
Court Square is located at 311 1/2 North Main Street, on the east
side of the courthouse square. Since the early days of the town of
Winston, this block has always been an important one. As recently as
twenty years ago, the street level of 311 North Main was the Rayless
Department Store, with a quite respectable hotel above. But there has
been decline in the intervening years. The street level is now a pawn
shop. And the hotel above is, well, shall we say, questionable.
Nevertheless, the foursome climbs the stairs to the second floor and
approaches the manager, Mrs. Ruby Kissee. They register as married
couples. Mr. and Mrs. Frank Fergeson. Mr. and Mrs. Spearman.
We
can only imagine what goes on there. But we do know what happens
next. At approximately 2:45 AM, the Winston-Salem police raid the
hotel, bursting into rooms, creating chaos, barking "You are
charged with violating the Hotel Law." A third couple is caught
in the net. And another raid is underway at the Phoenix Hotel on the
west side of the square. The policemen begin recording details. The
soldiers' addresses are easy to pinpoint. ORD, ORD and ORD. But the
three women do whatever they have to do. They give false names. One
says that she lives at 221 South Green Street. Another claims that
she lives at 2217 North Liberty Street. The third says that she lives
in Bristol, Virginia. The Green Street and Liberty Street addresses
do not exist. Who knows about Bristol?
One
of our young ladies is found in bed with a 36 year old soldier. He is
naked. She may also be naked. Or wearing a slip or something,
depending upon which account you believe. The cops are in the room.
She begs them to leave while she gets dressed. The officers are
decent men. They take the soldier with them and move into the hall.
They wait. And wait. They knock on the door. They try the knob.
Locked.
Officer
Early I. Weatherman calls to the front desk for the master key. His
partner, officer D. Clayton Bland, dashes for the back of the hotel.
In the cinder coated alley behind the hotel he finds a crumpled
figure. The woman has broken bones, arms and legs, and almost
certainly, internal injuries. She is unconscious. The land slopes
sharply from the back of the Court Square Hotel, so she has fallen
nearly four stories from her room. An ambulance is summoned and she
is rushed to the emergency room at City Hospital, near the end of
East Fourth Street.
Over
the next few hours the officers begin to identify the women.
Margaret L. Miller, 29, who had registered as "Mrs. Spearman",
admits that she had accompanied the injured woman on the train from
Wilkes County. She tells the police that her friend, "Mrs.
Fergeson," is Dora Mae Johnson, 27, of Hays, NC. The police
begin searching for Dora Mae's relatives. The next day, Monday, June
10, 1946, a man arrives at police headquarters at the City Hall on
the corner of First and Main Streets. He is not a happy man. He tells
the policemen to stop trying to contact him at his place of work. His
name is James H. Johnson, Route 1, Hays, NC. He tells the police that
he is Dora Mae's father. He tells them that Dora Mae has two sisters
and ten brothers, that she left home when she was seventeen and that
she has not been back for more than a week at any time. He says that
the last time he saw her she was working as a waitress in North
Wilkesboro. He has not seen her since. Apparently he is more
concerned with his own image than he is with the condition of his
daughter. He does not visit her at the hospital. Nor do any other
members of her family.
Meanwhile,
the Twin City Sentinel runs an article headlined "Girl Who
Jumped to Escape Police Reported Near Death." There is an
accompanying photograph of the rear of the Court Square Hotel, with
an arrow pointing to the open window from which she jumped. The
caption reflects the thinking of the local police. There is a
building about eight feet behind her window, a scant story below. She
might have been trying to jump to the roof of that building. Or
perhaps she was aiming for a nearby fire escape. Either way, in the
darkness of a Saturday night alley, it would have been a tricky
consideration. Only Dora Mae could tell us what really happened.
Unfortunately, she never gets the chance.
On
Saturday, June 15, 1946, the Sentinel runs another headline. "Wilkes
Girl Dies After Leap From Third-Story Rendezvous." So Dora Mae
is gone. A couple of days later, at 10:00 AM, her funeral is
conducted at Oak Ridge Church, near North Wilkesboro, by the reverend
Hillary Blevins.
Earlier
in the week, Dora Mae's soldier "husband" Luther McKinney
appears in Forsyth County district court. He is fined ten dollars and
court costs for his part in this little drama. The other survivors of
June 8/9, 1946 will be tried later. They too end up paying $10 and
costs.
In
the early sixties, the 300 block of North Main Street is razed to
make way for a grand high rise building to house the headquarters of
the Wachovia Bank and Trust Company, now known as the Winston Tower.
So all traces of the scene of the tragedy are gone. As is Dora Mae,
who, had she survived, would be in her late eighties today. But
General Statute 14-186 is still on the books:
Any
man and woman found occupying the same bedroom in any hotel, public
inn or boardinghouse
for
any immoral purpose, or any man and woman falsely registering as, or
otherwise representing
themselves
to be, husband and wife in any hotel, public inn or boardinghouse,
shall be deemed
guilty
of a Class 2 misdemeanor.
The
annotated version of the General Statutes of North Carolina points
out that the portion of this statute that refers to "immoral
purposes" has been found by the North Carolina Supreme Court in
State vs. Stevens
(1978) to be vague, so fails to meet constitutional due process
requirements, and is thus invalid. But the remainder is still in
effect.
RIP
Dora Mae Johnson.
