Burke, Selma, November 16, 1973, tape 1, side 2

Selma Burke: And he was there. Claude arrived at 5:00 and Mr. Griffin telephoned-- Hope and me. We'd gone to her apartment. We rushed back. She on one telephone, me on another in a pay station calling everybody. All of the artists were there. Spinky Alston, Hillwood. I can't name the, the artists of of New York because they all loved him dearly. Jacob Lawrence and, and Joseph Delaney. The whole crowd was there. Augustus Savage and the whole crowd were there. But many of them had just gone, and these-- the white riders had just gone next door to, uh, to Small's Paradise, and they were practically all so inebriated that they just had to come to the, to the next door. And he arrived. There was a most beautiful smile on his face. And I forget the young man's name right now, who read his poem and we played Chopin's Funeral March and there was a viewing. And just at the end-- and Sonny Bishop, Father Bishop had a wedding, and he heard-- and he came in his regalia and he came. This is perhaps the most trying moment of my life. Came-- Sonny came in his regalia because he didn't take time to change into his street clothes and sat down, and Miss Terry, who was a Roman Catholic went out and called the cardinal and told him I was having a second service for Claude McKay. And Roman Catholic priest touched me on the shoulder and said, would you go to the telephone? And I-- this is in my very, very trying moment.

Burke: I go to the telephone and I said, no, if you mean Father Bishop, who is here in his regalia? He had a wedding and he came just as he was. Johnny Johnson is here, Reverend Robson and all of the ministers of, of New York City and the drunks, and the-- and the taxicab drivers, and the people of the street, and the artists, and they are standing outside because there is no room inside. And I have done exactly as I told you I would. After the black mass, I was to have Claude McKay's body and I was to take him to Harlem because that's where the people knew him. They didn't know him as a Roman Catholic. They knew him as a pagan and a happy, happy one. And, they want to view him and they want to shed their tears. And this is what is happening right now. And if you will excuse me, I'll go back and mourn my husband. And I went back and sat down and Hope said, what? What are you-- what was wrong? And I said, I'll tell you later. But as I went by that woman, I-- was all I could do to keep from just tearing her to pieces. I had to go by her to go back up to the seat, to sit down beside my child. And it ended. And the next morning, he was interred at this--

Burke: Roman Catholic cemetery.

Burke: And the following six months later, we put the stone too. And he is one man we know where he lays. I tell you all of this because Hope had been rejected and rejected every one. I have kept in contact with her everywhere she's been because of the agent and the publishers, because they always send me a copy of whatever they are redoing or copy of, or permission. And I said you-- would tell them you have to get permission from his daughter. So they keep me in until--

Burke: The 9th of October, my exhibition opened and for some reason I put her name. Oh, I know exactly why. I got a letter from the publisher saying we are going to republish his poems. And as soon as they're out, we'll send you a copy. We have permission from Hope McKay.

Burke: So I sent her a copy of my exhibition, which is now down at the museum in Harrisburg. And today I got the most beautiful letter from-- that's why I told you this story. Because it-- she no longer feels rejected. She feels that I'm the only connection she has with her father, the only connection she ever had with her father, and the only decent one that she ever had with her father. And the letter is-- it tells me what she's been doing. She used to write a letter and tell me the whole year of what she was done. But a very cold letter, but written in the in the way Claude wrote, you's know that she's his daughter. And she sent this letter out to the publishers, to the agent, to the friends that she wanted to, and it would be sent to me unsigned. Today I got a beautiful letter from her. She no longer feels rejected. She'd like to come and live with me. She'd like to come, she says. I know that you're older. Maybe there's something that I can do now to help. That's why I told that story. Howard: Is she in New York? Burke: No. She lives in Long Branch on Olive Street. Howard: New Jersey? Burke: No. California. Howard: Oh, California. Burke: Yeah. Howard: Oh. Burke: And, uh. And-- and that I got just when I came home to--

Howard: I should say. What a moving, moving story. Burke: Isn't that something? Howard: That's really something. And, also the quality of, of the life and what it meant and the quality of the experience comes through.

Burke: The experience is just-- I am. And I talked, I-- Once I talked to a priest, I talked to Monsignor Rice here. Monsignor Rice became a very good friend of mine because at the same time that I was going through my problem with the church with Claude, he was having his problem here in Pittsburgh. And he should have been where Cardinal Wright [??] is. Howard: Political hassle. Burke: Remember that hassle? And he told me his story and I told him mine and he said, I understand you. So that-- I did his portrait and it was paid for by a very good friend of his. And, and he has been my only relationship with the Catholic Church until the other night. I went to Heinz Hall and saw what that little woman, that little nun is doing with those Black children. And that gave me another feeling that I can now forgive everything that the Roman Catholic church has--

Burke: What they did to me. Because, yeah, but to find a white woman getting out of those kids and the way she gets it out of them, managing them, is simply fantastic. And I have been saying this all along, and I've seen it in my mother. I've seen it in our church down home. I've seen it. You've got to really sit on Black kids. They don't have any respect for people who coddle them and, and, and baby them along. They think you're fooling around with them. And this I this-- this, this woman, the way she gets, gets something out of-- the musics he gets out of those children. Unbelievable. And the parents are with her. They are working with her. I went to the reception afterwards. And the place, the-- not only was the place filled with Black people. It was the first time I ever saw that many Black people together in a, in a, in a concert since I've been in Pittsburgh. But the thing that was really gratifying was to go upstairs and find they had made a reception for these children and the Black mothers had baked cakes and cooked chickens, and they had all kinds of beautiful food laid out. And they kept saying, well, where are the children? And she came up, the sister came up and she said, They are putting their instruments away. And they don't move until they have done everything they are supposed to do with their instruments, and cleared up the place, and then they come up and have their reception. Now, why is it we've got the beautiful Selma Burke Arts Center and I have moved-- done everything I've known how to do to get that place moving.

Burke: If I could move it just as that woman, like, I don't know how we shall move these children. We've got the most-- the biggest dance class in Pittsburgh coming to the Selma Burke Art Center. It's perhaps the most serious thing that's going on there. I gathered together from all of the big corporations here. I talked to Roy Cole and I said, Roy, they're having the centennial in my hometown and they're going to do the life story of my family and they're going to do my life story. And I would like to make some kind of contribution. Particularly, I'd like to take the dance group that's been with the center ever since we opened, and they are some of the children who are-- have developed, that I got scholarships with down at-- Point Park College. And I would like to take a group of these kids. Would you sponsor it? Would you give me the money or would you give me some money, and give me some names of people that I could try to get some money from? Because I'd like to do something more than just appear there myself. I'm not a person that wants to project themselves. I'm trying to project my race. I'm trying to project humanity and mostly the arts. I have not given a hang about whether you are Black or White until I came to Pittsburgh, if you had talent. And so Roy said, Oh, yes, said I'll give you $200 and call these people. And he and I sat here and I got the names on the calendar and I called every one them.

Burke: I said, I'm not asking you for a large sum of money. I'm asking you for $150. So I'm asking you for $100. I don't want from one person all the money. I want all of you to contribute to a cultural effort that I am putting forth. I'm taking a group of dancers from the Selma Burke Arts Center to my hometown to perform. That's in North Carolina. I must fly them there. They must have ID cards and they've got to have food and lodging. Don't worry about the food and lodging because they're all going to stay right in my mother's house, the whole 18 of them with two chaperones. We all know where they are every minute so that no mother need worry about her child. Can you find out from your public relations or whoever handles this that you can do something for? I must know within the next week or the two-- next two weeks. I have to have $11,000 or $1,100 for tickets. Well, this one said, well, now, how much did so-and-so give you? And well, I went through all of that. Within one week I had $1,100 in checks and I directed them all to Carnegie Institute. I had $1,100. I went with my own check. I made reservations with Eastern Airline and I wrote my own check, personal check to hold those 20 seats. And I got Ted Hasid [??] to write the get the insurance for me. They contributed the insurance to cover these kids. I think it's $37. But anyhow, that's a big.

Howard: laugh. It's not true.

Burke: It's a little more than that. But it wasn't it wasn't anything like-- the thing of it was that they went. We went. And we made a contribution from Pittsburgh. Those children, the the stage-- they were doing the bicentennial-- they silhouetted them. There were 18 dancers with the choreographer. And that they silhouetted them. And the stage was, well, it looks like from here to the corner, and they could run on, and the 18-- they silhouetted them twice life size so that when they danced it looked as though there was, you know, ten times the number of people that were there and they made films. And these kids, we they they ate well. The Junior League, most of those people I had played with, they brought pies and cakes and chicken and potato salad and it was strawberry time. And they had their stables and they said they can come ride. And this one said that they can use our swimming pool. And so, they're, they're doing something in some parts of, of, of the South and-- and I'm sure it's not all because of my family but these kids were so excited they had never been outside-- two of them had been on a plane before. I got them ID cards and handed each one of them down. I kept their tickets. I took pictures of them on the-- going on the plane. And a little black girl was queen of the centennial with her float. There were two runner ups-- White. And Miss North Carolina-- White-- crowned the little Black girl who had raised the most money for the centennial.

Burke: And she wore the purple robe with the ermine collar. She was allowed to keep the tiara, and she had little Black girls with rosebuds and baskets. It was rose time down there. And this float was long, about as long as these two rooms. And it was decorated with garlands and they were in the center of this parade and they had every marching band from North Carolina from all this. It was two miles long. The parade lasted more than three hours. And they, they were moving. And when they came, I was with the mayor, of course, and Mr. Irwin, who is now the we decided-- he and I decided then that we ought to be running Washington, but anyway. [laughter] Uh, he and a good many of the congressmen, and-- I was riding with he and the mayor in an open car. And I said, you know, I can't stay here with you. When we get to the Centennial corner, I must get out because my children are going to perform there on that platform and it is not safe. And I want to be there so that nothing will happen to any of these children because I am responsible for-- to 18 mothers back in Pittsburgh. So I got out of the car and went back to be with my children. And-- but if you could have seen those-- they wore a costume of that period-- 100 years ago. And the women had little bonnets, and the kids all got bonnets, and they all got the little bells and silver bells of-- if you could have seen this. And what it did for those girls that went out of Pittsburgh, they are working so hard at that center and they cried to me practically.

Burke: Whatever is wrong on the telephone, some some day of every week that comes by. Well, Doctor Burke, you know so-and-so, she's not acting right. You know, she's not helping us as much as she should. And she's gone with so-and-so. She's gone with Bob Johnson's group. She's gone with so-and-so's group. She's gone up on the hill, and we are trying to keep together. Dr. Burke, you said to keep together, and we're trying to keep together, but it's so hard. Dr. Burke, would you call him? Maybe you could get-- you know, you have no idea. I put my telephone in my husband's name, thinking this would keep em from getting hold of me so easily. But I can't. I can't keep. So I have to be reached, anyway. Um, I grew up partly in North Carolina, partly in Philadelphia, and partly, really in New York. My art life, I went to Columbia and Julius Rosenwald. I wrote a-- my thesis, which was in North American materials for sculpture. I went to every mine in this country with. Some of them haven't been mined in over 100 years. I tested out and found the physical properties of each stone.

Burke: And wrote this up. And then won first prize at Colombia. And there were a group of men who had come to visit from Vienna. Columbia, when it was called King's College. They had gotten their doctorates from the School of Mines, and they came in to look at the art exhibit and said, we would like to meet the artists who made this piece of work, who did this piece of work called Grief. And I went to take some of the dust-- I was carving a piece in stone-- off of me and I said, Mrs. Thompson, four white men out there to see me, I said-- and their wives, I said, I don't know any of these people. I said, I don't know anybody. It's only my family who knows that I'm in New York struggling and trying to get art education, and I don't know these people. She said, well, they know-- they want to meet you. Just come on out. I said, All right. So I took off my stone dust and dusted out my eyes as much as I can, and they clicked their heels and bowed to the waist and said, We are Viennese and we are very happy to meet you. And we, we are very much impressed with your piece. How would you like to come to Europe to study? And I said, I don't dream of it. I'm just a scholarship here. And when I finish here, I hope to go back down south and in some way, where there was no opportunity for me to provide some opportunity for the Black kid in art.

Burke: And they said, well, wouldn't it help you too? And I said it would help me, but I have no I have no time right now to go to Europe. So anyway, the following year, that was in 1935, 30-- 37. The following year, I get a letter from Vienna saying, If you will send us the name of your bank, we will send a draft of $1,600, which will get you to London, where our representative will pick you up and see that you get presented to the Queen and that you will be brought to, to, to Paris to-- and we have arranged that you study with Maiol [??] for the summer and lived in the Trocadero until we get back, when we will be going to Vienna where we have arranged that you study at the university. Well I had no bank. Where would I have a bank? [laughter] I had not one penny, so I was on pins and needles until my professor came and he came. Maldarelli came at 1:00. I had this letter at 10:00. So you know what I went through until he got there. And so I said, Mr. Mal, look, read this letter. He read. He said, Oh, so he reached his hand, pulled out a $10 and go get yourself a bank. [laughter] Come back and let's write a letter.

Burke: So we go. I go down and I always wanted to have a bank account at the Dry Dock Savings Bank. Don't ask me why, [laughter] which was at Madison Avenue near 57th Street. And I went down there and the man with $10, I was shamed. I went to a to a lady at the and-- she was $10. And I said, Yes, $10, darling. I never had a bank. So she said, Well, you see that man sitting over there with the-- in the little gate, with the little gate around him with white hair, said, well, go over there and talk to him. She didn't even want to take my $10. [laughter] So I went over and told him my story and he said, you sit right here, I'll take care of it for you. And I went. I sat there and rocked backwards and forwards in his chair, [laughter] and he got me bank book for $10. And I got back on the bus, which was the double deckers that went up to Columbia and showed Mr. Maldarelli and we went into the office and everyone was so proud. And I was the only Black in the class, and everyone was so proud that we all became a part of that letter. And so I went off to meet the Queen, but I had to go home first. And I told them at home and they were very excited. And I said to my mother, and my mother lived to be 103, and she retired at 50 and her children took care of her.

Burke: My brothers pushed those fat people up and down the boardwalks of Atlantic City and strip tobacco in Connecticut and retired their mother at 50 and went on to, to school themselves. So I said, Mom, what do I do about the food? I'm going to meet the Queen. What do I do My mother said, You walk up those-- I hear that it's Buckingham Palace that you're seeing-- so she said, You just walk up to that lady and offer your hand because curtsy. And I said, Oh, all the kids I know, Mama and Sarah Lawrence and Columbia that are-- they got beautiful long dresses and they're learning to curtsy and all that. And my mother said, You just walk up with whatever you have on and offer that lady your hand because that's your tradition. You-- that ain't-- curtsy, ain't in your tradition. [laughter] Curtsying ain't in your tradition. [laughter] And you walk up and offer that lady your hand. And of course, you know, they sound it out. And of course, it was a beautiful thing. Buckingham Palace is if you get inside-- the gardens, you know. And so I waited for my name to be called out and I walked. I, I really could walk. And I walked on up there. Howard: Ain't this the truth. Burke: and I walked on up there and I-- that lady-- then three steps and that lady stood up because I had my hand out before. [laughter]

And Elizabeth, the Queen Mother, stood up for me.

Burke: And I walked back down them steps and join the rest of the crowd. And I was-- and then I went off to, to Paris. And I went to Montparnasse, and I wanted to meet Henri O. Tanner. And I just got settled in the Trocadero, and that morning I went to-- went to Café du Dome and one of the American artists came in and said, Tanner just died. Howard: That's where you met him? That's where you met him. Burke: That's where I wanted, so much. And I said, Oh, what a pity. He had been such an odd, you know. People need images and so forth. He had been, you know, for us as a small group in New York, his initials are H. O. T. You know, Henry O. Tanner. And so anybody that got to be kind of good, we'd say, well, you're getting close to H. O. T., you know. And, so that we-- he was an idol for us. Although we weren't going in his tradition, in his way of painting, because he was painting at that time, more or less like [??], Courbet and the people of that time. In spite of the fact he had Akins as his teacher in Philadelphia. In spite of the fact Akins wrote him a letter and asked him if he might paint his portrait as his outstanding student. Henry O. Tanner was honored all over America and all over Europe, and Pittsburgh never invited him to come home. And the one thing.

Burke: Henry O. Tanner was born in Pittsburgh, darling. And I'm going to get you. Henry O. Tanner was born in Pittsburgh, and he's got relatives-- White relatives living right here in Squirrel Hill. But he's-- his father was Bishop Tanner, and he's had relatives that were down with-- down at-- with John Brown-- Howard: At Harper's Ferry? Burke: --at Harpers Ferry. And for some reason, Pittsburgh held this against Henry O. Tanner. Now, this is what I have found out, that they wouldn't honor him. And there was some prejudiced people in this town and and Henry O. Tanner was never invited to come back. He was honored in Saint Louis. And I told this-- were you there? Unidentified Speaker: Yeah, I was there. Burke: Yeah. Unidentified Speaker: They honored him. Burke: Yes, I said-- I said that day. I said all-- you know, Henry O Tanner kept saying oh if they would only invite me to come and have an exhibition in my own hometown for a European, this is very important that you have exhibited in your hometown.

Unidentified Speaker: But I don't think most Pittsburghers, today, know anything about Henry O. Tanner. Most of them who were there that day didn't know anything about him. Burke: No. Unidentified Speaker: They had never heard of him. Burke: It's pitiful, pitiful.

Burke: Pitiful. Because here was the man in the day-- 1937, the respect that was shown that man by the White artists, and the the Black ones. But the White artists were the ones who had respect for Henry O. Tanner because his work-- he was represented everywhere in Paris, in Amsterdam, in Rome, all over the world. This man had made his mark and he couldn't even get into Pittsburgh.