THATâS PART OF LIFE

[The following is an interview of Alberta Reid Blandin, probably for the Berkeley Co-op and published in their newsletter, probably in the 1980âs. The interview was done by Richard Berkeley.]

I was born in Angelâs Camp, California, July 3, 1902. We came down here when I was two. We moved to Oakland and then to Berkeley. I donât know what year it was but I know I was here when the fire and the earthquake hit. I was on 1331 University Ave. It shook our house and all of the things fell off the shelves. We had a big bench in our backyard and we stood on the bench and watched the fire in San Francisco. We could see it plainly. Back then there werenât all the houses. Berkeley was fields and cows and horses and chickens.

We raised rabbits to feed our family. We were 13 children, seven girls and six boys. I went to Jefferson School. We ran through a lot of fields. Down here where thereâs Strawberry Lodge there was a creek where we used to catch pollywogs. And near my church now, the Friends Church, there was a creek.

And of course we didnât go to college like our children did, so I worked in canneries when I was young. California Packing Company, I think it was down on Fourth Street.

The boys went out with the girls of course. My father was very strict about it. I thought it was a wonder to go up by the University where all the students were dressed so nice. They dressed up to go to school. And now I laugh, when everyone comes as they are.

There was prejudice in Berkeley then. I was the only Black at my school. There was me and a little Mexican girl and some of the school children wouldnât want to take our hands because we were darker. They used to call us names, but my mother, she was very religious and she used to say, "Donât pay no attention to them." But my oldest brother would fight.

I think peoplesâ attitudes about race really changed after World War II, when Blacks would get jobs in offices and all. When I was a girl, you couldn't work in a cannery.
My father was half White. He was from Georgia. His mother was half Seminole Indian and half Black. On my motherâs side there was White and Indian and Black, too. So I guess Iâm mixed up. [laughter]

My father was a carpenter. He helped build all the Berkeley schools and the Shattuck Hotel. I remember when the California Theater was built, we were so proud. And nowadays I see all the names of those who built it, but I donât see his name.
When I was young I didnât know whaqt I wanted to be, but I always wished I was richer so I could do for my mother. She had a hard time. And she always looked up. I will never forget my mother. She never complained. She said, "God is good to us," and she was telling the truth. We always had plenty to eat, warm clothes, and a warm house. My father was an excellent provider.
I used to like to dance. We had parties and we hiked all the time. We used to go down to Dipsea and Mt. Tamalpais, and all over. We didnât have radios. I read a lot. I loved "Little Women" and "Little Men," and then afterwards Zane Grey and all kinds of mystery stories.

My mother let us go to the movies, although my grandmother thought we were going straight to Hell. She was a very strict Baptist. You couldnât even dance.
I was married in 1921 and had two children. My first husband died in 1959 and then I married my friend Eugene whose wife had died. Iâve lost both my husbands and both of them were grand. I think lifeâs been good to me·ups and downs.

Troublesome, worrying about family and brothers and sisters and children·thatâs part of life. And deathâs part of life. It is. Itâs part of life.

I havenât got the energy I used to. I attribute my energy to being active. I donât like committees, but I always liked the out-of-doors. I love to dance and I love to walk. The exercise class is fun. I canât do all the things they do, but I do get my feet over my head. Kicking is fun.

And, of course, I like the Co-op here. Itâs grand. We have different nationalities, young and old, and everybody seems to be very kind to one another. Of course, weâre going to have ups and downs. That happens no matter what.

The people here in the Co-op are fine. They treat old people just like everybody else. They help out.

And you never hear, "Oh, Lord! Hereâs the old people."