Installment #9: Growing up is hard to do

Lucille Elizabeth Hinote Harreld. This photo was taken around the time Lucille and Claudell were living in separate residences.

In Installment #8, I mentioned that Claudell's mother Lucille, along with her step-father Glenn and little brother Jerry, moved out of Claudell's tiny shack to live in an apartment above the local bank. I also mentioned that one of the reasons they made the move was because Lucille was going to be the caregiver for an ill friend and her newborn daughter. The main reason they moved out, however, was because Glenn said they could no longer afford to care for Claudell or send her to school. So they moved to the apartment about six blocks away and never looked back.

If a child is abandoned today, Child Protective Services would be called. Claudell would have been put in a foster home. Apparently, no such provision was available in the area where Claudell lived. You'd think that her parents would frequently check in on her to make sure she was well, clean, had money to get by on and had enough to eat. They never did and she was never invited to visit them at the apartment. It was a good thing that her grandmother, Bertha, put the shack in Claudell's name so she would always have a place to live. Perhaps Bertha knew something like this would happen some day.

For Claudell, getting an education was important. So, at the young age of 13, Claudell assumed adult responsibilities. She worked as an evening waitress at the Cozy Waffle House owned by Jimmy Alumbaugh and went to school during the day. She earned $12 a week, had three meals a day and could do her homework in a back booth when it wasn't busy.

From 11:30 a.m. until noon each school day, she had a study period. From noon until 1 p.m. was the lunch period. She made arrangements with the school to leave during that time to work at the diner, where she bused tables and cashiered.

When she turned 16, she started working for Miller Manufacturing in Joplin, Missouri, a neighboring town. She carpooled with four other women that worked at the factory. Because she worked late and had to go to school the next day, Claudell would pin curl her hair on the way home so her hair would be ready to fix the next morning.

She started out folding shirts and then was assigned to sew collars onto Army shirts. One day, a collar wouldn't fit on the shirt. After removing the collar 2-3 times, the shirt ripped down the back. She simply sewed up the rip, sewed on the collar and sent it to be inspected. The line lady asked, "What do you think you're doing?" Needless to say, the shirt did not pass inspection.

The woman that drove the car to work each day sat across from Claudell. They were always giving each other a hard time, making the day pass by more quickly. One day the woman yelled, "I just sewed my finger!" Claudell replied, "Oh, well." The woman emphatically said, "I mean it. I sewed my finger!"

Claudell jumped out of her chair, leaped across the table, hit the release on the machine and backed out the needle. The woman was taken to First Aid where the finger was cleaned and bandaged. Afterwards, she went back to work as if nothing had happened to her finger.

Claudell only worked at the factory for about 5-6 months before catching the flu and couldn't seem to get well. Her physician, Dr. James, told her she would have to choose between working at the factory and going to school. Naturally, Claudell chose going to school.

She still needed to work, so she took a job waiting tables at the Horseshoe Cafe located next to the Keystone Hotel in Joplin. She was there about a week, when Jimmy Alumbaugh asked her to come back to work for him. She worked at the diner until she graduated.