Court Square Hotel Tragedy...

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.