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THE HuNTSvIllE ITEM$1.50Sunday, february 9, 2014

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BlACK HISTORY MONTH — JOREEN WAddEll

ElECTION 2014: WAlKER COuNTY TREASuRER

After 13 years in treasurer’s office,Klawinsky wants to be the boss

By StepHen Green

SGreen@itemonline.com

She’s done the time. Now she has hereyes on the top prize.

Walker County Treasurer candidateAmy Buckner-Klawinsky has workedfor the treasurer’s office for 13 years.She said after encouragement from herfamily and coworkers, she wants to be

the boss.“My knowledge of

county government willallow me to support thepeople of WalkerCounty,” she said.

Klawinsky is current-ly the county’s assistant

klawinsky

Now’s the perfect time for Cook torun for public office, and to serve

By StepHen Green

SGreen@itemonline.com

This campaign for Walker Countytreasurer has been a long time comingfor Huntsville Realtor Martha WilliamsCook.

She said she’s always wanted to runfor public office.

“When I saw that the incumbent was

not running, I decided tofile,” Cook said lastweek. “I was a teacherfor a number of yearsand I thought about iteven back then, but itjust wasn’t possible atthat time.”

Cook

STePHen green/THe HunTSviLLe iTem

retired HiSD teacher Joreen Waddell stands on the steps of mance Park middle school, the former site of Huntsville High School where she was one of a group of students to lead the integration.

Joreen Kelly Waddell, farleft, stands next to homeeconomics teacher LucilleJohnston, Huntsville HighSchool’s first black facultymember, in 1967.

PHOTOS cOurTeSy Of

HunTSviLLe HigH ScHOOL

See klAWinSky, page 9A See cook, page 8A

Joreen Kelly, right,is pictured during

her freshman yearat Huntsville High

School.

HISTORY MAKERBy StepHen Green

SGreen@itemonline.com

September 7, 1965 was an average dayin Huntsville. Students slowly got out ofbed and headed off to school for the firstday of class.

At the time, they had no idea they werebecoming a part of history.

Joreen Kelly (now Joreen Waddell)put on the new clothes her mother justbought from Felder’s Dry Goods store.She fixed up her hair and walked toschool.

For many of the students of HuntsvilleHigh School, the first day of school in thefall of 1965 would be like any other. Butfor Waddell, it was the beginning of a

four-year adventure in unexplored terri-tory.

Waddell was one of the first black stu-dents who chose to attend HuntsvilleHigh School rather than the all-blackSam Houston High School when HISDbegan the integration process.

“I told my mom I wanted to sign up togo to Huntsville High School,” Waddell

said late last week, recalling a tense con-versation with her mother, Ella MaeKelly, who still lives in Huntsville. “Shewasn’t excited at all, mainly because thesummer before this was to take place,they had the ‘Hey You!’ (civil rights)movement, the marching and all of this to

See HiStory, page 7A

Joreen Waddell remembers what it was like to be one of Huntsville High School’s first black students

integrate Huntsville, peri-od.

“It was the first time, aslong as I can remember,that I went against whatmy mom wanted me to dobecause I marched and shedidn’t want me to.”

When Joreen wanted tomarch for civil rights inHuntsville, her mothercouldn’t help but worry.

“Her thing was, ‘Joreen,you’re going to go marchand then you’re going togo over there to themwhite folk and they’regoing to do something toyou, because they’re goingto see you out there march-ing,’” Waddell recalled. “Ididn’t really care becausethat’s what I wanted todo.”

Kelly wasn’t about tostand in her daughter’sway. She always told herchildren they could doanything they put theirmind to.

“I told them that thethings that they thoughtwould be, wouldn’t reallybe,” Kelly recalled. “Butinstead of standing in herway, I let her go and findout her herself. I knew thatshe was going to come intothings and the atmospherewasn’t going to be whatthey thought.”

Joreen’s brother, WillieB., wanted the same thing.He enrolled in the seventhgrade while Waddell start-ed the ninth.

Huntsville ISD, whichhad already started inte-grating the elementaryschools, kicked off a “free-dom of choice” program in

1965 in which outstandingseventh-, ninth- and 12th-grade students from theblack schools could applyto change schools beforefull integration came toHISD in 1968.

Mom wasn’t satisfiedwith the “I want to go”answer.

“Then she asked, ‘Whydo you want to go toHuntsville High School?Why do you want to goover there with those whitepeople?’” Waddell said.“My answer was that Iwanted to know theirsecret.”

That “secret,” she said,was the driving forcebehind her passion forintegration that startedbefore she even consideredapplying for high school.She couldn’t get a job.

“It was the idea I wouldgo in and ask for a job andthey would tell me theyweren’t hiring,” she said.“I’m looking back in thegift-wrapping section and Isee these little white girls— and I didn’t know whatgrade they were in — but Icould see them back therewrapping gifts and theywere telling me theyweren’t hiring. So, I want-ed to know, ‘What is theirsecret? Why is it they canget a job and I can’t get ajob?’”

Joreen finally got herchance to find out. In 1965,she started her first day atHuntsville High School,nervous and scared.

“I was nervous becauseit was something new,”

Waddell said. “We did notknow how we were goingto be treated. The summerbefore was when all themarching was.”

When she and her friendAltha Hatch walked up toschool on the first day,they weren’t treated poor-ly, she said, because every-one was too busy gawkingat their new classmates.

“It was really funnybecause we walked up oncampus and all the kidswere like cows in a gate,”Waddell said. “They werelooking because, ‘Here arethese strange people com-ing to our campus,’ andeverybody was looking atus. It was like we were thecenter of attention. Thekids were looking like, ‘Ohmy goodness, here we go.Here we go.’”

Fortunately for Waddelland Hatch, they weremembers of the band andhad already met many oftheir new classmates.Waddell played the frenchhorn in the Sam HoustonHigh School band while inthe seventh and eighthgrades but couldn’t affordto buy her own instrumentto play in the HHS band.

She worked during thesummer babysitting for anurse with two kids andbought a trumpet on creditfrom H&H MusicCompany. She traveled tomany different places withthe band, which made hermom nervous.

“They were about toleave to go to another townand march,” Kelly said. “I

went to the band directorand told him how I felt. Heassured me he would takecare of her — and he did.”

The other kids did. too,especially one memberwho Waddell and Hatchconfronted after he repeat-edly “called us the N-wordwhen he would walk by.”Waddell told the boy sheand her brothers wouldbeat him up if he kept upthe harassment.

“That day to this henever used the word,” shesaid. “When we would goout on the band bus and begoing into the stands wewere the only two blacksin the band, the stands,everything. And when peo-ple would be standingthere calling us names, hewas the main one thatwould tell us, ‘We’re goingto put you with us andwe’re not going to let thembother you.’”

Waddell’s first day ofschool had its share of sur-prises.

While attending theblack schools, Waddellsaid she and her classmateswere often told by theirblack principals and teach-ers that “white kids don’tbehave like that.”

“The first day of schoolthis boy came down thehall on roller skates and Ijust couldn’t believe it,”she said. “I was like, ‘Ohmy, white kids actually actlike this. White kids areactually loud?’

“We were always told,‘Stop being loud. Whitekids aren’t loud.’ When I

got there I realized whitekids were just the same asthe black kids.”

Many students treatedWaddell well. But theywouldn’t do it publicly atfirst.

This was apparent whenwhite students and theirparents would crossWaddell’s family in thestores. Her classmateswould carefully wave ather with their hands bytheir hips so their parentscouldn’t see. Other stu-dents would go out of theirway to greet Waddell,Hatch and the other blackHuntsville High Schoolstudents to make them feelwelcome.

Acts of white studentsrallying around the blackstudents were common.One moment Waddell saidshe’ll never forget waswhen she was elected par-liamentarian of the FutureHomemakers of AmericaClub.

She won the initial bal-lot, but because a teacher’sdaughter was running forthe same spot, they held arunoff. Waddell won again.Waddell and her mothersaid the teacher then raisedthe price of a trip to thestate FHA meeting inDallas.

“I went home and I toldmy mom, ‘I’m not going toget to go on the state meet-ing.’ ‘Why?’ ‘Because theteacher says we have tohave $100,’” she said.“Mind you in 1965, $100was a lot of money.”

In fact, $100 in 1965 isabout $730 today.Waddell’s mother was ajanitor at the Sam HoustonState University healthcenter and her father, aself-employed carpenter,was at home with a debili-tating illness. Her mother’s$85 a month was all thefamily had.

Kelly took out a loan so

her daughter could makethe trip.

“I told her, ‘Girl, don’tyou spend all of mymoney. Don’t go big,’” hermom said.

But in another show ofcommunity, Waddell’s fel-low FHA officers paid fornearly all of her expensesat the meeting, allowingher to take $85 back to herfamily.

Waddell’s experiencesweren’t all good, though.Just like her mom hadwarned her, the FHA tripand the boy in the bandwere only the start of whatshe would experience.

When an editor for TheHive school newspaperwalked in a home econom-ics class and asked theteacher for a girl in a size-7 dress, Waddell andanother girl raised theirhands to be models for aback-to-school layout inthe paper.

Both girls met with theeditor and returned toclass. The teacher later toldthem that the editor chosenot to use a girl in thatdress size.

“The paper came out onThursday, and lo andbehold who is in the paper,the other girl who raisedher hand,” she said. “Butthe kicker of all of it was,the paper came out onThursday and she was inthe paper and I had thedress on that she was mod-eling.”

The same teacher whosponsored FHA was goingto make Waddell scrub thefloors while the other kidsstraightened cabinets andorganized shelves.Waddell refused.

“It was a shock to herbecause I told her no,”Waddell said. “She said,‘Why not? I told you that Iwant you to do this partic-ular task and if you say no,I’m going to send you tothe principal’s office.’ Isaid, ‘Send me to the officebecause I don’t even scrubthe floors at home.’”

Off to the principal’s

SuNDAY, FEbRuARY 9, 2014 THE HuNTSviLLE iTEm 7A

historyContinued from page 1A

SeeWADDELL, page 9A

“I was nervous because it was something new. We did not know how we were going

to be treated. The summer before was when all the marching was.”

JOREEN WADDELL / Former Huntsville High School student

sunDAY, februArY 9, 2014 The hunTsville iTem 9A

treasurer, but she has worked in sever-al departments in the past, includingaccounts receivable where she started,payroll and human resources.

Because of the nature of the job,Klawinsky said, her experience doingthe work makes her the best candidate.

“In my experience in office, evenafter 13 years, I will need help some-times,” she said. “For a new person inthe job it would be difficult.”

Klawinsky doesn’t think there’smuch to change in terms of the treasur-er’s office if she is elected.

“For the most part it’s pretty good,”she said. “There are some things towork on with the other departments tomake things smoother, though.”

When she isn’t working, Klawinsky

said she spends time with her children

— Kali, 8, and Khloe, 5.

“I like to give back to the communi-

ty and our kids,” she said. “The kids

are our future so we need to help them

as much as we can.”

With her kids, Klawinsky is a “soft-

ball mom” in the Huntsville Girls

Softball Association and a past officer

in the Sam Houston Elementary boost-

er club. She also said she was born and

raised in Walker County because “it

feels like home.”

Klawinsky lives in West Sandy with

her husband Jason, who is working for

the US Forest Service. She is a gradu-

ate of Sam Houston State University

and member of the SHSU Alumni

Association. She is also a member of

the St. Joseph Catholic Church in New

Waverly.

klaWiNskyContinued from page 1A

office she went. She called hermom, who walked from herjob to the school to let theprincipals know her daughterwould not be scrubbing anyfloors.

“I told (the teacher) I did-n’t send my child to schoolto scrub floors, I sent her foran education,” Kellyrecalled.

In the end, the good out-weighed the bad. Waddellsaid the process was“smooth” and she madefriends she still has todaybecause she’s a social but-terfly, of sorts.

Current HISD Board ofTrustees President J.T.Langley graduated the sameyear as Waddell. He said lastweek he could not imaginegoing through what theblack students did back inthe ‘60s.

“What if myself and 19more were chosen to go toall-black or all-Hispanicschool and start your firstyear in high school goingthrough that process,”Langley said. “I think aboutthat today as time hasmoved on. I can’t imagine

some of the stress that couldhave been put on thembecause there was an expec-tation. It was met by thosefine young people.

“I know that the expecta-tion was, ‘You’re supposedto be a model student.’ I’mjust very thankful that as astudent of Huntsville, aHornet and graduate of the‘69 class that I got to spendtime with that group ofyoung, black students.”

Waddell eventually madeit to her senior year but shegot pregnant, which wasproblematic at the time.Girls either had to get mar-ried or drop out of school.She spent her first semesteron campus before staying athome for the rest of herpregnancy.

Efran Reese was born onMay 7, 1969, just beforegraduation at HuntsvilleHigh School. But she wasn’tallowed to walk across thestage, so she got her diplo-ma at home. That didn’t takeaway the feeling of accom-plishment.

As a single mother,Waddell was determined toget her college degree, espe-cially after one high schoolcounselor told her she wasnot college material.

With her family’s sup-

port, Waddell started in thepre-nursing program atSHSU in the fall of 1969.After dropping out of col-lege three semesters in tostart working full-time andgetting married, Waddellknew she still wanted adegree.

She finally became a reg-istered nurse and worked atthe Conroe RegionalMedical Center as a reliefcharge nurse “making bigbucks” when she got a callfrom her friend at HHS whosaid they were looking for aschool nurse.

Waddell eventually quither job in Conroe and begana 22-year career atHuntsville High School as aschool nurse, then as a full-time health teacher beforeretiring last year. She nowworks part-time helping stu-dents get basic nursingtraining.

Waddell had four chil-dren — sons Derf andDwayne Reese of GreenBay, Wis., and a daughter,Veshon Nelson who lives inMontgomery County. Efrandied in 1998. Waddell hasseven grandchildren.

Now, Waddell said shewould still like to see ahigher ratio of white toblack teachers and blacks in

administrative positions, butthat the atmosphere was dif-ferent. Overall, her experi-ence in the district fromintegration was “not bad.”

Her entire perspectivetaught her that childrenaren’t inherently racist. It’s alearned trait, Waddell said.

“Have you ever heard theexpression that if you leavechildren alone that they willtake care of their own busi-ness?” Waddell asks. “Itwasn’t as much the kids as itwas the parents.”

An example of the child-hood innocence was when sheasked her grandchildren howmany black children were atone of the school events hewas at.

“‘Black kids?’” her grand-son said. “‘No, he’s brown.’ ...(Racism) comes from what weput in their heads.”

Huntsville High Schooleventually became a placewhere students referred toeach other by name ratherthan “that white kid” or “thatblack kid.”

“I still say it’s the parents,”Waddell claimed. “It has a lotto do with the music they lis-ten to, the news media and thethings they see on TV. It’s anever-ending circle. Somethings change, but thingsremain the same.”

WaddellContinued from page 7A

By Nedra Pickler

associated Press

EAST LANSING, Mich. (AP) —President Barack Obama on Friday signedinto law an agriculture spending bill thatwill spread benefits to farmers in everyregion of the country, while trimming thefood stamp program that inspired a two-year battle over the legislation.

As he penned his name on the five yearmeasure at Michigan State University,Obama said the wide-ranging bill “multi-tasks” by helping boost jobs, innovation,research and conservation. “It’s like aSwiss Army knife,” he joked.

But not everyone is happy with the leg-islation and Obama acknowledged its pas-sage was “a very challenging piece of busi-ness.”

The bill expands federal crop insuranceand ends direct government payments thatgo to farmers whether they produce any-thing or not. But the bulk of its nearly $100billion per year cost is for the food stampprogram that aids 1 in 7 Americans.

The bill finally passed with support fromDemocratic and Republican lawmakersfrom farming states, but the bipartisan spir-it didn’t extend to the signing ceremonywhere Obama was flanked by farm equip-ment, hay bales and Democratic lawmak-ers. White House press secretary JayCarney said several Republicans wereinvited, but all declined to attend.

Obama signs bill,trims food stamps