A TRIBUTE TO SAMUEL WATTREE SR.

Beneath the Spin*Eric L. Wattree

EXCELLENCE IS THE KEY TO BLACK EQUALITY

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 A TRIBUTE TO SAMUEL WATTREE SR.

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GRANDDADDY WATTREE

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS

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"Eric, never let people know everything on your mind, because then they know everything you know, plus what they already knew. That makes them smarter than you."
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I was your first grandchild, and I never felt so secure as I did when I would snuggle up next to you and watched "Gunsmoke." I can still remember how you would make fun of Chester's country accent - "Mr. Deollion, Mr. Deollion!" Sitting there next to you I felt safe from everything. I haven't felt like that since you died. You were one of those men who was the UNDISPUTED head of the family - the ENTIRE family, and that included everybody who married into it. And not only the family, but everybody in the neighborhood treated you with deferment and respect, and that included some of the most feared gangsters in Watts.
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I can still remember how people like Hawkeye and Neal "ND" Davis would put out their cigarettes and try to hide their beer when we’d pull up to “George’s Corner” looking for PeeWee. One of them would slip into the club to give PeeWee a heads-up when

PEEWEE
(SAMUEL WATTREE JR.)

they saw you comin’, and the one’s outside would say, “How you doin’, Mr. Wattree? PeeWee’s inside.” And you’d say something like, “Man, how you keep from slidin’ out the bed with all that grease in your head?”, and they’d all fall out laughin’.
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My father was also a street person and certainly not one to be toyed with, but he would tiptoe around you as well, because he knew that you took absolutely NO shit. You spoke to him like he was one of your kids, and essentially he was, since you knew him from birth.
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But what I loved most was you wouldn't let anybody even raise their voice at me, including my mother, and I was always at your side – I even went to the store with you, and in the mornings you'd sprinkle water in my face to wake me up to have breakfast with you before you went to work.
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Grandmomma said it was ironic, because I was born out of wedlock just before my mother entered nursing school, and you were furious with both my mother and father. So when I was born you said, "You ain't bringing that bastard to my house." But momma said once I was home you immediately began to crack, and before long, whenever anyone came around me you wanted to know what they were doing. It was like I belonged only to you. Val used to say, “That's what's wrong with you - Daddy spoiled you.”
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And she was right, daddy. You spoiled me rotten, but she didn’t seem to

WHEN I WANTED TO BE A COWBOY
I GOT MORE THAN JUST CAP GUNS.
(PONY FURNISHED BY PHOTOGRAPHER)

have a problem with it once you started spoiling her. You bought her wedding rings, and you and momma started taking sides with her whenever we had a family dispute. I once tried reminding you that I was the one who was your blood, but to no avail. You knew and loved Val from the time she was a 14-year-old child and she was the mother of your great grandchildren, so that was that - daddy had spoken, which made it law. So my place was to just suck it up and get over it. I was a man now, and you didn’t pamper men. You said, it made 'em weak. 
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Consistent with the times, however, you had many old fashion ideas about "a woman's place", but you also believed that a man had a responsibility to keep his woman happy, and in our relationship Val played on that belief to the max. Sometimes when Val wanted something from me, I used to watch her in action around you, and it made me want to throw up. You would have thought she was Donna Reed, and I was Simon Legree - and the worst part about it was Grandmomma Lealer would help her! So it was clear that the days of cowboy outfits and always having my way was clearly over, and I began to recognize how the rest of the family must've viewed me as a kid when I was always getting my own way. It was sickening, and Val ALWAYS got her way. I was a grown man, and had to worry about my wife "telling daddy on me" - and it was like that until the day you died. I imagine Val's all up under you in Heaven as I speak.

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While it was hard falling into second place, it taught me that as a man

ME, KAI, AND LIL ERIC

nothing was given to me. I had to earn my standing in the world. But my wounded feelings aside, you started teaching me other lessons in life - lessons in manhood. You taught me to be an independent thinker. You gave me the confidence to stand firm regardless to what anyone said (unless it was you). You also taught me to absorb the knowledge and facts provided by others, but thereafter, to ALWAYS connect the dots for myself. So today, someone can tell me, "Well Martin said," or "Malcolm said," and my response will be, what does what Martin or Malcolm said have to do with what I think? So the bottom line is, you taught me to never give anyone else's ability to think priority over my own, and I want to thank you for that.
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We don’t see family dictators like you anymore, who rule the family and all its branches with the iron fist of absolute authority – but that’s too bad. Because every family should know the comfort and security of a strong patriarch that they knew they could always rely upon.
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You were an old-school Black man, the personification of competence and strength. A master mechanic by profession, you taught us the benefits inherent in the pursuit of knowledge and the value of love of family. While you weren’t one to hobnob, and you believed in keeping life simple (much like myself), you knew the future mayor, Tom Bradley, as Tom, who was a police officer at the time. You became friends when instead of taking PeeWee to jail, he would bring him home to you, knowing that you would handle the business that they couldn't - and you did! You were so brutal with PeeWee one night that it scared me, and the only reason you stopped was I started freaking out. I was so freaked out by the incident that I was actually afraid of you for several days. I was afraid you might do me like that. But you certainly made your point with PeeWee.
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While many White families were struggling to keep their heads above water, you made it possible for our family to coast through this nation’s most severe hardships without ever being in need of a thing. And most importantly, whenever anyone in the family faced adversities in life, we knew we could always “tell daddy”, and you would make things right.
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But it turned out that I didn’t know the half of it. After you passed Grandmomma Lealer would regale me with stories of your youth. She told me that when she got your attention as a young girl she knew she had hit the jackpot. She said you were never like the other boys, and she always liked you, but you were such a serious and distant person you didn't seemed to be interested. You were always in your own world and didn't seem to be interested in anybody. Then one day from out of nowhere you showed up at her door with a box of candy and she couldn’t believe it, but she said she was beside herself with joy, and all the other girls were happy for her (she had 6 sisters). 
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Then once you got married a rich White family, essentially, tried to enslave her. She was working for the family as a domestic and the people's kids became attached to her, so the family wanted her to live there on the premises. They weren't brutal, or threatening, or anything - at first. In fact they were all syrupy grins, and spewing words of love, and talking about you all "becoming one big family" and with my mother growing up with their kids - but, of course, with momma doing all the cooking, cleaning, and dirty work. But they crossed the line when they wouldn't let momma come home. They insisted that you come and move into a backhouse there on the premises.
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So you pretended to cave in. You packed up all your belongings and pulled up on the premises. Then when they came out to greet you, you pulled out a gun and told momma to get the baby (my mother) and get into the truck. Then you drove off, leaving Louisiana, and you kept going until you reached Los Angeles. That was in 1931 when my mother was a year old. Then once you got to Los Angeles you moved into a house a block or so from the renowned Dunbar Hotel, and started your new life.
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That was during the Great Depression and people were starving to death, but you opened up an auto shop on Central Ave. keeping people’s cars running, and you were making a killing. So while everybody else was struggling for food and trying to stay off the street, you bought your first home.  
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GRANDMOMMA LEALER

But momma wasn't telling me all of this for nothing, she was leading up to a point about being considerate and being a man. As usual, she was taking sides with Val in a dispute we were having. I was in college and I felt distracted and unable to study because Val kept the house full of people. Our house was like Grand Central Station with people congregating there 7 days a week, and I resented it. But  Momma told me a story that pointed out that you were very serious and was into your own thing as well, but you always found a way to accommodate her needs.
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She said, she was young and she still liked to party, but you were such a serious person that you didn't party at all. But instead of depriving her of what she liked to do, you would stay home with my mother and drop her off at the

CENTRAL AVE.

Dunbar Hotel to let her party her heart out all night long – not once or twice, but EVERY weekend - and then you would come pick her up at the end of the night. She said it never crossed your mind that she might start fooling around with one of those "pretty men" up there, because you had confidence in yourself and trust in her. She said, that made her love you even more – and that you were right. She went on to say, “And there were indeed some real pretty men up there, but she knew that no man in the building could even come close to matching the man she had at home.”
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Momma made her point, and it made me feel foolish that I was raising so much hell over Val wanting to have card parties and such AT HOME. After all, I did have a den. So I’ve learned a lot from you, even in death. You taught me to

DUNBAR HOTEL

keep life simple and enjoy my family instead of wasting my life (and my money) trying to be a bigshot to impress others. You said trying to be a bigshot is a hole that you can't ever stop diggin'. You had a rhyme you used to recite to me as a kid, and following the wisdom of that rhyme has allowed me to live a content and very happy life. You said, “All I want from this whole damn nation, is a pretty little wife and a good foundation.”
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Well, you had that and more, and I’ve found that simple lyric to be the key to enjoying life. The best way to have money is not to wasted it trying to impress others with a lavish lifestyle, and no amount of money can ever come close to making you as happy as a loving home. Later I found that to be the difference between Barack Obama and Donald Trump. With all of his so-called money, Trump is jealous of Barack Obama and can never live up to what Barack represents - and ironically, Barack is the one who people look up to. He doesn't try to be a bigshot. He's just a good man who loves his family and has solid values
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So now I’m “daddy” (or "Poppi" in my case), and I try to stand strong. But remnants of the child I once was still lives on in me, although I do my best to try to hide it. But that child greatly misses your strength, competence, and the wisdom of your guidance. I often yearn for the days when I would snuggle up next to you and watch “Gunsmoke”. Some nights I lie in bed and wonder did you ever feel that way. But somehow I doubt it. You were always your own man. You always looked forward and never one to looked back. So as hard as I try to be the man that you were, I guess they just don't make 'em like they used to.

LEGACY
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Neither scholar nor the head of state,
The most common of men seems to be my fate;
A life blistered with struggle and constant need,
As my legacy to man I bequeath my seed.
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More fertile, more sturdy these ones than I,
This withered old vine left fallow and dry;
The nectar of their roots lie dormant still,
But through their fruit I'll be revealed.
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Eric L. Wattree

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November 22, 1906 - 1983
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You’ll always live on, through me, and the Wattree Clan
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REST IN PEACE, DADDY.

YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MY MAIN MAN.
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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS
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The six plane factories of the Douglas Aircraft Company have been termed an industrial melting pot, since men and women of fifty-eight national origins work side by side in pushing Americas's plane output. S. O. Porter, Douglas director of personnel, recently declared that Negros are doing an outstanding job in all plants. Samuel Wattree works in the El Segundo plant of the Douglas Aircraft Company.

• Digital ID: (digital file from intermediary roll film) fsa 8e01292
• Reproduction Number: LC-USW33-028630-C (b&w film neg.)
• Repository: Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Washington, D.C. 20540 USA
• http://www.loc.gov/pictures/resource/fsa.8e01292/

SAMUEL WATTREE
MASTER MECHANIC

Eric L. Wattree
Http://wattree.blogspot.com
Ewattree@Gmail.com
BLACK WRITERS, INTELLECTUALS, ANDINDEPENDENT THINKERS
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Religion: It's not that I hate everyone who doesn't look, think, and act like me - it's just that God does.