Playwright’s Notes

PLAYWRIGHT’S NOTES

BY KEITH JOSEF ADKINS

Most of the Black people I know in Cincinnati have roots in the West End. Whether it’s parents, grandparents or beyond. Many of my father’s relatives, in particular, migrated to Cincinnati from Taliaferro County and Atlanta, Georgia. They were part of the Great Migration from the 1910s through the 1940s when millions of African Americans fled the South seeking economic diversity and peace from unfathomable racism. Whether all who migrated actually achieved either is an entirely different matter. But, in my family, much was achieved. They built communities, careers and legacies, and are still building.

I am a descendant of the West End, if one can say that. I was born and raised in Cincinnati and grew up in the suburb of Woodlawn. My maternal grandmother and her parents lived on Armory, Livingston and Wade Streets and attended St. Joseph Catholic Church. My maternal grandfather’s GRANDMOTHER (who was born one year after Emancipation) migrated from Florida in 1917 and lived at 1509 Plum Street. My maternal grandmother’s father worked for Kahn’s in Camp Washington, but made extra income being the Ice-andCoal Man in the West End during the 1930s.

Over the years, I’ve heard numerous tales about the West End — the excitement of the Cotton Club, the reliability of Ferguson Cabs, the beacon of education known as Stowe School, about families that looked out for each other, and friendships that lasted forever. However, it is my father and his family’s presence in the West End that inspired me to put a spotlight on this unforgettable community. They lived on Mound Street and later Richmond before buying a home in Avondale. They attended St. Luke Baptist Church on Clark Street where a Rev. Charles Flint was pastor and my grandfather, the Rev. Clarence Adkins, was an associate pastor. From what I’m told, Rev. Ernest Flint (brother to Charles) pastored a storefront called Golden Leaf Baptist on Baymiller Street. When Rev. Ernest Flint left to pastor in Covington my grandfather became the pastor of Golden Leaf. And by the way, Ernest’s wife was also my grandmother’s cousin and all of the aforementioned hailed from Taliaferro County, Georgia. The stories go on and on. This play is not a testament of every experience in the West End (because there are many). It’s one story that allows me to immortalize a place that shaped the lives of so many I know and love. The West End.