INT: Give me the story of your family coming to LA.
WG: My family came to Los Angeles about 1906. They didn't come to Los Angeles. They came to Santa Monica, California in 1906, and settled there, ah, first my father, who started a window cleaning company and a shoe shining parlour employing 26 men in Santa Monica, and he did exceptionally well. And he sent for his friends back in New Orleans and they, one by one, came out to California. That started a colony of blacks in Santa Monica that has lasted to sometime day. Ahm, one ... of the men, named Arthur Reese ...

INT: Why did your father come here?
WG: My parents came to California, ah, first, my father and then he sent for my mother, ah, because of the opportunity out here in employment. And he was most anxious to get in government employment. He ... did get in government employment and stayed with the Post Office for over 26 years. At the end of 26 years, he resigned from the Post Office and went into the real estate business.

INT: Your father was a distributing agent for newspapers?
WG: My father, as an additional source of income, sought some method to give him, ahm, additional money and he then sought out papers that he admired. He admired The Chicago Defender and the, ah, Negro World, and he knew that there was a market out here in California for them. So he then began selling these papers, ah, on an individual basis, that is, ah, placing 'em in drugstores and in other places of business in the windows so that the people, as they're walkin' by, would pick them up. And he had me helpin' him distribute them and we also sold 'em on the street, something you don't see now. And that was The Chicago Defender, The Crisis Magazine, The Negro World.

INT: How would you sell the Defender on the street?
WG: Selling The Chicago Defender on the street was very easy in those days, ah, because it carried the type of news items.
WG: I was a typical newsboy on the street for The Chicago Defender. I would hawk -- I was a hawkster and I knew how to sell papers, I would say, "Chicago Defender! Chicago Defender!" And I'd hold it up. I would go into barber shops and I had no trouble because most of the, ah, citizens had -- that is, the black citizens, had heard of The Chicago Defender. Generally the Chicago Defender carried an attractive headline and it was a rival to the Hearst papers in a sense, because always on the front page there would be some attractive, interesting articles, sensational. And it sold -- I would have, ah, ah, men reaching over their shoulders buyin' the Chicago Defender.

INT: Why were people in LA interested in a Chicago paper?
WG: The people in Los Angeles felt that they were somewhat isolated and that the rest of the back -- black populations in other parts of the country, ah, were very interesting. And the people out here were -- longed to participate in the activities of the Easterners and they thought that the news in the East was perhaps somewhat, ah, superior to the news out here. The occurrences in the East were very attractive to them. Most of the musicians that came out here and traveled with bands came from the East. So we had, ah, this interest that was maintained intensely over the years and I had no trouble getting rid of a paper, ah, out of Chicago or out of New York. The Crisis Magazine was also sought after and DuBois, who wrote The Crisis, who was the editor of the The Crisis Magazine, was a -- an attractive feature.

INT: Tell me about meeting Charlotta Bass.
WG: I, as a youngster, used to go to the LA Forum. It was an articulate body of black men who met every Sunday afternoon at five o'clock at the corner of Eighth and Wall. They met in a, ah, building that was house to the Knights of Pythius(?), a lodge group. Now in selling The Chicago Defender and The Crisis there to these men going in out of the organization, Mrs. Bass also was a frequent visitor. She wanted me and she requested me to sell her California Eagle at the same time. I met Mrs. Bass then and I walked downstairs with her around the corner and she has her little publishing plant at the corner of Eighth and Wall next to a restaurant run by a mean named Morris. I became more or less acquainted with Mrs. Bass in that capacity, selling papers. I became frequent with her goings and comings. I met her husband, a man by the name of J.B. Bass.

INT: Give me an idea of what year we're talking about.
WG: I met Charlotta Bass when I was about 8 years old, which could be about 1916 in years. I was born in 1908.

INT: What was Charlotta Bass like?
WG: Charlotta Bass was a plump woman, very buxom, pugnacious-looking, and a person who was very interesting to look at. She was very frank and, on top of that, Charlotta Bass was very articulate. She had and maintained all the time she lived in Los Angeles an Eastern or -- accent. For instance, in conversing with her, instead of where most of us out her in California would say "tomato", tomato --Charlotta Bass would say "tomato". When we was say "glass", she would say "glass". She was a woman that was definitely a matriarch of the politics here in Los Angeles. The men were not too, ah, popular and they did not, ahm, more or less go to the core-- forefront too often, but Charlotta Bass could always be counted upon to more or less spearhead any movement toward the blacks, of the blacks here in Los Angeles. Charlotta Bass appeared at all public assemblies. She spoke well and she spoke, ah, with, ah, a certain amount of electricity in her. She always, ah, generated interest in the audience.
WG: When I would go to visit Charlotta Bass at the plant to perform some chore for her, I'd run into her. She would have her black apron on and she'd be working right there in the print shop with the other help. Her face would be smudged in black and, ah, her hands would be grimy from setting of type. Ah, she, ah, was always a worker. She wasn't one of these women who was meticulously dressed. She usually had some form of printing attire on and even when people'd come to visit her to consult with her, she would take 'em back in her office and she'd still be in her, ah, ah, printing attire and they would have to talk to her among, ah, whirrs of typeset and printing boxes.
WG: The Eagle had subscription lists there. There were -- in some instances, people hadn't paid for two and three and four years for the Eagle, but she still sent them the paper every month -- every week.

INT: Did you do anything else at the Eagle besides work as a paper boy?
WG: No.

INT: You talked about circulation.
WG: I would go out and collect subscriptions . I, ah, when I commenced workin' for Mrs. Bass, her subscription lists, there were long lists hanging there on the doorknob and these people hadn't paid in two or three or four years. They had been receiving papers and unless they sent their check in voluntarily for their subscription, Mrs. Bass never seemed troubled about going after the money due her. So she equipped me with the bicycle and I used to ride out to Monrovia, to Duarte, to Pasadena and go house to house with this subscription list and collect on these subscriptions. And when I got back, I was really welcome because she would knew I was bringin' money back and, ah, she would, ah -- treated me just like I was a member of the family.

INT: It seemed The Eagle sort of functioned on the seat of its pants.
WG: The California Eagle struggled to get along and to pay its bills. It had a force of about three employees, a Mr. John Brown, a very light-complected, ah, black man who operated the linotype machine. He was there with her from time immemorial. A Mr. Solomon ... Ah, the money that it re-- took in primarily came from ads and durin' the election season, ah, Mrs. Bass was a very prominent politician and she would -- ah, I imagine she would contact these politici-- ah, political people who would pay her for the ads in the paper.

INT: Tell me about her nephew.
WG: John Kinlock, ah, was the nephew of Mrs. Bass who came to California, ah, about 19--20--5, or thereafter. Mrs. Bass was very much in love with John and the whole world then seemed to dawn on John. John, ah, enlisted in the Army and lost his life. And Mrs. Bass was never the same after that. She changed in her attitudes toward me and with other people and spent a great deal of time in Elsinor, California with a sister who had come out here.

INT: How did she change her attitude towards you?
WG: I mean by that, where she was very devoted to us, it seems to fit when John -- when she lost John-- she gave up on everything else. And, ah, her attitude toward us just lessened then as she didn't think of us and include us in her plans as she previously did.

INT: How do you feel about that?
WG: I was very hurt, but then I thought perhaps she was actually justified in losing this love, but I still missed her attention and I missed being included to make plans for the future. I had always dreamed that one of these days I would be a part of The Eagle and I -- when I saw how much she thought of John, I realized that my future would be rather dim.

INT: Tell me about what made The Eagle an important paper.
WG: The California Eagle was an important paper because it was extremely active in every black endeavor. It could not -- these activities could not be left to other leadership in the community because there was none. There was no outstanding black man in the leadership of Los Angeles durin' that period. Mrs. Bass was the leadership. Mrs. Bass could be counted upon. Mrs. Bass was, ah, a woman that was an eloquent speaker. So when it came necessary to get out and to cite the endeavors and cite our ambitions, Mrs. Bass was the one always chosen. Mr. Bass was also there, a very large figure, round about 350 pounds, was very, ah, ah, satisfied with the role that Mrs. Bass played and he did nothing at all to discourage her.

INT: Talk about the importance of Bass' friendship with Paul Robeson.
WG: Whenever Paul Robeson would come to Los Angeles, Mrs. Bass would show him a special interest and it was a very courageous thing to do at that time because Paul Robeson was being criticized in some places and as being a member of the Communist Party. This did not seemingly deter Mrs. Bass from maintaining this great friendship and she, ah, ah, would go out with him on rallies and they would stage rallies. And, ah, ah, of course, this dampened a lot of the interest of the blacks into her leadership because they, the blacks, were more or less, ah, non-communistic and they were thinking that she was kind of weakening their stance a little bit. They -- a lot of blacks didn't like this association, but it did not deter Mrs. Bass. But it was at that time that Mrs. Bass was generally weakening in the community at any rate. Her paper was not re-- was not as affluent as it had previously been. Other papers had come in.

INT: What do you think happened to the black press from the '50s to the '60s?
WG: I was always very much concerned with, ah, black papers. I loved them because you would get tremendous news from all over the United States and if I can just recount a few of 'em, The Norfolk and Guide, The Afro--American, The Crisis Magazine, The Messenger Magazine, The Reflector, a paper in Los Angeles, ah, the, ah, Sentinel, The Pittsburgh Courier, The Amsterdam Daily News, the --ahm, there was a paper out of New York ... Black papers, like white papers, were a powerful communication that we relied on, and then other means of, ah, communication came into being, like radio, and people started listening on radio and forgot about newspapers. But there was a time that our whole lives looked like they depended on newspapers. And, ah, that is the situation.

INT: Could you talk about the Eagle's role in shaping LA?
WG: Mrs. Bass, in her leadership reign here in Los Angeles, was determined that blacks have an equal share in government. And she made very personal contact with judicial officers, the governor and politicians of the state to help build a kind of dynasty for herself. She was very much instrumental in the first black judge being appointed here, ah, by Governor Colbert Olson, and Olson, ah, was a man with liberal tendencies and he and Mrs. Bass had a very fine friendship. Now Mrs. Bass exerted every effort to see that blacks got equal opportunities. She wanted negroes to be in all, ah, types of, ah, governmental participation and she fought hard for it.
WG: They wanted to suspend my father's license, ah, for just selling to a black. He had to go before a hearing and, after all, he knew the property was restricted and, therefore, he should not sell to these people -- should not have sold it to these people. And then his answer was, "Well, they wanted to contest it in -- in the courts." And, ah, they told him, "Don't do it again or you'll lose your license." Yeah.

INT: Tell me about the fight to end restrictive convenants and Charlotta Bass and The Eagle's role.
WG: The California Eagle, ah, took up the fight about restrictive covenants. I had returned from Ohio State University Law School and they were still teaching that restrictive convenants were the law and that it was permissible. So when I came out here, I found out The California Eagle was embroiled in this big fight because at the very time that, ah, I got here, the, ah, courts were busy affirming decisions saying that restrictive covenants were permissible. I ran into a situation where people who had purchased property were being evicted from their homes. And The California Eagle took up the plight of these people, these people who had spend money for downpayments and so forth and had moved in a home, relying on the fact that perhaps, ah, the change of conditions, the fact that a great number of other blacks lived in the same district, same territory would influence the court to say, "Well, there's been a changed condition." So then Mrs. Bass would answer the call to help in that particular ...

INT: Is it true the restrictive covenant fight became one of the first victories of the Civil Rights Movement?
WG: The first victories? Ah, no, I couldn't talk about that.

INT: What was it like to be black in LA in the '30s and '40s?
WG: Los Angeles was a wonderful city. Ah, the --there were lots of clubs, social clubs, and there was a congenial crowd of young people. They mixed well. They went out socially a great deal. They went out to restaurants, to parties. Ah, they went to the games, the football games, and you could find nearly every weekend a formal dance to attend. And it was a city where you had at your hand, ah, a great array of friends and you could communicate with them regularly. It was just a great city. LA was a very happy place. I see LA -- then -- I remember LA then as being a much better place to live in than it is now, today.

INT: Talk about how LA was then.
WG: Well, Los Angeles was the mecca for the entire country in those days. And it seems that as if so many of the people from the East and the South come out here. Each summer, ah, we would be the recipient of the visits of women teachers from all sections of the country who had geared up their living to plan for a holiday in the summertime in California. So it was no surprise to us that in May-June-July, women from St. Louis, women from Kansas City, women from Atlanta, women from Miami would all come out here and, of course, the -- this made the town a very gay place and we had, ah, fraternities who were giving conventions here.

INT: What was the role of the black press to black entertainers?
WG: Black entertainers came here from the East and the South and they were unknown, but the black newspapers and the black journalists were the persons who made them come alive because the journalists would tell of their accomplishments in other places. And the newspapers would more or less feature the matters that were written up by the journalists. So a newspaper was life and death to an entertainer and men like Ellington, Basie, and -- and, ah, Erskine Hawkins and -- and Jimmy Lunsford, ah, would come out here and the newspaper journalists were the men that made them so attractive to the people, aside from their music.

INT: It seems the black papers introduced them to the black community and then the white papers picked them up?
WG: Well, as a matter of fact, black journalists did such a fine job of publishing, ah, the fetes of black orchestras and so forth that it made whites from other sections of the city want to see and hear them. And so black -- whites would come to the black district and this was the reason for the existence of, ah, the Club Alabama on Central Avenue in Los Angeles, where, ah, blacks almost were, ah -- had difficulty getting in because all the seating arrangements had been taken over by whites. And --but the credit is due to black journalists, black newspapermen, black newspapers.
WG: In the days, ah, that we've been talking about here, black journalists had a very difficult time. In the first place, the black newspapers weren't making a lot of money and they didn't pay the journalists, which forced the journalists to have to go and solicit money from the people they were writing about. Now, for instance, at a dance if there was a group in your party that you would like to have photographed, the journalist would call over a photographer and, together, the journalist and the photographer would line up the picture for the newspaper. They would then take those things to the newspaper, who would pay the journalists for -- something for bringing it in, but in the meanwhile the person whose photograph had been taken would also help the journalist along. This put the journalist in a position of where he had to solicit money and it wasn't very advantageous to him. Ah, but the journalists began to come to their own when the newspapers started earning money and could -- the journalists then started getting salaries.
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