Barbara Jordan

There was no humor in that beginning of her speech. Barbara Jordan is black. And her statement that for many years she thought she'd been "just left out by mistake" rang true. Most American parents stress to their children the importance of being Americans; but after a time, black and other minority children learn that while they are American-born, they are not the same sort of American as white children. It's very hard for children to accept being different through no fault of their own. "Maybe someone just forgot us," they decide.

Barbara Charline Jordan was born at a time and in a place where only children could entertain such an idea. Black adults in Houston, Texas, in the 1930s understood that they were second-class Americans and had learned to live with that knowledge. They lived and worked knowing that they were limited not only by social customs but by actual laws. They had to use "colored" restrooms and water fountains, which were never as plentiful or accessible as those reserved for whites.

There they might be poor and without legal or political influence, but at least they did not have to worry about walking on the "wrong" side of the street or looking in the "wrong" direction. And they kept their children in these enclaves as long as possible, to shield them from the brutal realities of the world outside. As long as they were so shielded, the black children of Houston had little idea of the larger world. It was possible to go for days without seeing a single white person other than a policeman. As Barbara Jordan recalls, "We were all black and we were all poor and we were all right there in one place. For us, the larger community didn't exist."

Barbara was born on February 21, 1936, the youngest of Benjamin and Arlyne Jordan's three children, all of whom were girls. Her father was a Baptist minister, with churches in the rural areas of Thompsons and Kendleton, and thus the Jordan family enjoyed a position of some respect in the Houston black com munity. The black church was one of the few areas where blacks controlled their own activities relatively free from white supervision; it was the hub of organization, cooperation, management, finance, and selfgovernment in the black neighborhood. The black minister, therefore, was a combination social, moral, and political leader, and a major force in the community.

Still, black churchgoers in rural parishes were not financially able to support their minister. To supplement his scanty income, Benjamin Jordan also worked as a warehouse clerk. The family lived in a modest frame house at 4910 Campbell Street surrounded by a small, well-kept green lawn. Inside, the furnishings were simple but adequate, just like those in the other houses on the street. "We were poor," says Barbara Jordan, "but so was everyone around us, so we didn't notice it. We were never hungry and we always had a place to stay."

Family life for the Jordans revolved around two basic areas - religion and music. God was ever-present, and though they did not have much money, they were secure in the belief that they were cared for and loved. Music, too, was ever-present. Both Benjamin and Arlyne Jordan sang and played musical instruments, and they encouraged the musical abilities of their daughters. Barbara's favorite instrument was the guitar.

Music was the chief source of pleasure in the Jordan family. Card playing, for example, was strictly for bidden, for Mr. Jordan considered it a sinful activity. "We were raised in the strictest Baptist sense," says Barbara, " - no drinking, smoking, or dancing."

Mr. Jordan was a strict disciplinarian, and much of the great self-control that Barbara Jordan exhibits is due to his influence. "I always had to keep the lid on, no matter how angry I got," she says. "It did not have to do with his being a minister; it was my respect for him as a person. I had great respect. It was unthinkable to have a hot exchange of words with him, for me or my mother or any of us. So one does develop quite a, bit of control that way.