Three Wives
We might as well get one thing out of the way before we delve too far into Ernie’s story. I’ve been married three times—divorced twice. That’s the kind of thing that most people keep to themselves, including me. Moreover, my third wife is white—I’m married interracially. (That’s the kind of thing that you can’t hide.)

I’ve never understood how this happened. I certainly didn’t plan for it. It just happened. I’ll tell you a little bit about them in this posting, along with pictures of each. (My multiple marriages also appear in my genealogical data.)

First was Loralee Farr. We met in Cleveland, Ohio. I spent my first two years of college at Fenn College in Cleveland. In those days, black men were excluded from dormitories in all Ohio colleges except Oberlin. The college administration located a place for me in a rooming house in an all-black neighborhood. (That story appears in my posting entitled “Liberation.”) My landlady was an acquaintance of Mrs. Farr. It was inevitable that I should meet Loralee. At that time, we weren’t a “couple”, although we had a few dates. (The fact of the matter is that I had two girlfriends in Mansfield.) But, I transferred to The Ohio State University after two years at Fenn College. Sometime later, Loralee started at Ohio State. In due course, we got married.

Loralee dropped out to work full-time. I worked half time as a research assistant in the College of Engineering until I received a Master’s degree, at which time I started working full-time as a research associate while attempting to earn a PhD. I was laid off from that job and the Draft Board intervened and I was drafted.

Those were difficult times. After my army service, we settled in Cleveland, and I was laid off that job. But with no trouble I found yet another job (which I kept for 37 years) at the agency which became NASA. Things began to get better, economically. We even managed to buy a house. But the marriage never recovered from the tough days. We divorced after ten years.

During my bachelorhood, I met Gwendolyn Wilkes, at a discussion group. We had an on-off romance—a good part of it by remote control while she got a Master’s degree from the University of Chicago. We never got along with each other. But we wound up getting married. I think that we each were marrying a Master’s degree and a good job. The living was good—a fancy apartment in a high-rise on the Lake Erie shoreline, resort style travel, Caribbean cruises, and nice cars. We suffered through the good times for thirteen years, but finally could endure no more. We divorced.

At NASA, I had met Elaine Sarkan. It was not love at first sight. For most of the time that we knew each other, we were merely acquaintances. But, ultimately we got jobs in the same organization. We became friends. I was amateur photographer. I was learning portraiture, and I asked her to pose for me. She agreed. I’m sure that you’ve guessed by now—we eventually married. We had known each other for seventeen years. At the time of this posting, we’ve been married for 26 years. It looks like it’s going to work.

I’ve included photographs of each of my three wives. The one of Elaine is “The Picture”—the result of her posing for me.
- posted by Ernie @ 4/22/2006 04:19:00 PM

 
Liberation
We were delivering me to a rooming house in Cleveland, Ohio. Me, Mom, Dad and my younger brother, Harry. I was about to be liberated. Mom, Dad and Harry were to return to our home in Mansfield. I was to start to college.
Now this was 1948. There were no dormitory facilities for black men in Ohio colleges then. Somehow, in the registration process, the college administration had located a room for me with what they assured us was a responsible family in a fine old neighborhood near the college.
I cannot describe how crestfallen we all were as we approached my first home away from home. I had always lived in a pleasant neighborhood in a small town. We were the first black family in our neighborhood, and I was always in racially integrated schools. I had never seen an all black neighborhood and I had never seen a big city slum. Yet, that was exactly what we were entering.
Just when it appeared that the neighborhood could get no worse, nor the atmosphere more threatening, we stopped—right in front of my liberation.
This was the beginning of a struggle that I had been shielded from for all my formative years, but which would characterize the rest of my life.
- posted by Ernie @ 4/03/2006 11:25:00 AM