THESE RAPER SIBLINGS stemmed from the strict structure of a loving family taught to care not only for each other but for the community as a whole. With that beginning, they learned to reap the harvest of a visionary father and supportive mother who taught them morality, the ways of hard work, and the means to achieve rewarding goals through learning and discovery. Theirs was part of a general movement from rural to urban America at a time when advanced education offered new and varied opportunities beyond farming. The movement sprang from two basic roots: leadership within the local community, and encouragement from a federal government willing to match communal efforts. Both forces worked together to use developing technology for building something new and different. The Raper experience personalizes a movement that perhaps could have happened only in a relatively new, expandable country such as the United States of America in the early part of the twentieth century.
On a personal level, who did all these Raper siblings grow up to be? How did each contribute to the world at large?
Starting with the youngest—the nugget of my desire to organize and present this dialogue of Rapers—John grew up to lead a somewhat troubled yet productive life. I met him during my senior year at the University of Chicago in 1946. He, a newly arrived Assistant Professor of Botany, became my mentor in science. As his first graduate student, I worked with him on the sex life of Achlya—that little water mold Kenneth mentioned—then, later, on a wood-rotting mushroom called Schizophyllum with 20,000 sexes. We spent the rest of our scientific lives together trying to figure out who could mate with whom and how.
John, being very red headed, preferred the name Red. While his siblings always called him John, I succumbed to his preference. Red not only taught me to love the fungi and the many quirks of their various life styles, he also taught me the meaning of love between man and woman. Alas, when we met, he was married. Nonetheless and shockingly, we fell in love and, after three traumatic years, resolved our dilemma in marriage to each other soon after his divorce.
I have never known such a man as Red Raper—driven, quixotic, brilliant, passionate, innovative, and, by today’s terminology, somewhat bipolar—he could soar with high spirits, sustain energetic levels of productive activity, then crash with occasional fits of depression of no apparent cause. With all this, Red achieved worldwide eminence as a scientist, having been elected Fellow of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences, Fellow of the National Academy of Sciences, and Chair of Harvard’s Department of Biology during which he died of a heart attack at the age of sixty-two. We had an exciting, somewhat fitful, yet fruitful life together.
Having listened to Red and his siblings talk about their formative years, I came to understand considerably more about how his values developed, the origin of his resentments, and why he became the man he was.
Kenneth achieved even greater fame. He not only received the honors of Fellowship in the American Academy of Arts and Sciences and The National Academy of Science, but the American Philosophical Society, and an honorary doctorate from the University of North Carolina as well.
Both Ken and John graduated from the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, and obtained Masters and Doctoral degrees in Botany at Harvard University. Ken’s part in the discovery of a fungal strain capable of producing industrial quantities of penicillin during World War II attracted international attention at a critical time in world history.
Kenneth became a scholar and a gentleman, and, with wife Louise, not only engaged the best hotels while traveling, but hosted elegant gatherings in their home.
Blanche, the only female, grew to be a high school teacher of history and English in Winston-Salem, North Carolina, and went on to obtain a master’s degree in history from Wake Forest University. Following Frank’s example of serving the community, Blanche became an avid participant and leader in activist groups including the League of Women Voters, the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom, and the American Association of University Women. Having had enough of the Methodist and Moravian churches of her childhood, she switched commitment to the more liberal Unitarian-Universalist faith as an adult. As her parents had wished, Blanche married Aubrey Zimmerman, “the right sort of man,” who grew up of good stock on a neighboring farm, achieved a college degree in finance, and became an accountant at Duke Power Company. A widow at seventy-six, intrepid Blanche moved to Santa Cruz, California, where she spent 18 years continuing her activist endeavors in new, exciting surroundings. She never stopped writing hymns and poetry and often performed in theatrical settings.
Howard attained the highest paid profession of the lot, having worked his way up in the banking business to presidency of the First Federal Building and Loan in Burlington, North Carolina. He stuck with Methodism becoming a trustee of the church and lead in many local activities including service as treasurer of the YMCA and president of the North Carolina Savings and Loan League. Howard’s agility with numbers more than made up for his lack of facility for spelling. He and wife Catherine lived a comfortable life in a lovely, well-kept home, played golf and bridge at the Country Club, and entertained properly—the Southern way.
In his own words, Howard declares, “I didn’t take to tobacco suckering any more than what John did. I mean, I’m a pretty good “coupling pole rider” when it comes to that, and I can ride that way when I have to; but ‘less there’s a need, I prefer a more comfortable seat. That’s largely what I’ve got, I think, in the Savings and Loan business. Sure, I enjoy the income right much, but even more, I like the work with the people, and I like to help folks get the homes they want for themselves. ‘Course there are times when we have to foreclose too, and I don’t enjoy that part of it, but by and large it’s a much better kind of life for me than what I would ‘uv had on the farm all my life.”
Ralph, with a bachelors degree in business administration and a masters in education, married Musette and ascended to the position of deputy director of the Cotton Division in the United States Department of Agriculture where he served for thirty years. He became a world leading expert on cotton commodities and received an award from the USDA for Superior Service.
Ralph was chided by his siblings as the only sibling who ever signed a million dollar check during his career.
Arthur achieved worldwide fame as author of several books on the problems of rural development in the South during the nineteen thirties: Tenants of the Almighty, Sharecroppers All, The Tragedy of Lynching, Preface to Peasantry, and Rural Development in Action. An early advocate of civil rights, he worked on various commissions addressing racial discrimination. Arthur resigned his faculty position at Agnes Scott College in Decatur, Georgia in 1939 after the college administration chastised him for taking his white students to visit the all black Tuskegee University as part of their education.
Arthur moved on to a career as social scientist and research analyst for several federal government agencies and, in the aftermath of World War II, served as advisor for United States’ policies on rural development in Asia, North Africa, and the Middle East. In his final assignment as senior advisor to the Pakistan Academy for Rural Development, Arthur, with help from wife Martha, applied most successfully the lessons of communal self-help he had learned from his youth in Welcome, North Carolina. He worked with local leaders in what was then called East Pakistan to encourage the farmers themselves to take an interest in and be responsible for improved farming practices—a bottom-up rather than top-down approach.
Luther, after earning bachelors and masters degrees in agriculture from North Carolina State College, Raleigh, married Rachel, a spirited southern gal, and went on to develop a thirty-two year career promoting farmer-owned cooperatives. Starting as assistant director for distribution of goods, he became director of membership relations in Southern States Cooperative, the largest farmers’ cooperative in the South. Luther was the first to establish and sell Zyosia grass for cultivation in Virginia.
Looking back, he comments, “That plot of Zyozia we keep growing and selling plugs out of (just for the fun of it) has started right many hearty lawns all over the Southeast. Generally speaking, though, a good bit more satisfaction came from my work with the cooperatives—far more, I think, than would have been possible had I stayed put in Welcome these seventy some years. It has given me a special sense of worth, helping farmers pool their resources to help each other. I’m grateful for the contacts with all the people involved, and I’ll have to confess, I’ve liked being in a position where my advice would be listened to occasionally.
‘Course I think maybe we missed something, getting away from the demands of farm life and by and large the kinds of wholesome activities that went on in Welcome while we were growing up there—I mean in terms of how our children were brought up— maybe they don’t appreciate their comforts and rewards so much as we of our generation did; things have come a mite easier for them than they have for us. But they’re fine youngsters, not too spoiled, seem to be doing right well too, and we’re proud of ’em, every last one.”
Cletus, as mentioned in the dialogue presented here, grew up to have big dreams. He graduated with a major in finance from Guilford College, a North Carolinian Quaker institution, and, after serving in World War I, teamed up with a partner to make a version of the balloon tire for automobiles. Cletus aimed to become a millionaire by patenting this invention. Alas, he and his partner made the mistake of developing their invention in a space leased from one of the big tire companies. Despite monetary contributions from the Raper family for legal aid, the company out-lawyered them and won the patent for itself. Cletus, with wife Gertrude’s loving help, recovered from defeat and succeeded in attaining a well-paid position as financial director for Murray-Hill Construction Company in Cleveland, Ohio—while dabbling in politics on the side.
Arthur adds a personal note:
“Now how has all this settled out? Well I won’t, in fact I can’t, speak for the rest of you, but I, as one, am grateful to have gotten away from the family farm. Now, in retirement, I’m glad to be back on my own little place, just for the pleasure of it.
But my life’s work is in sociological studies: the close association with some very fine fellow workers in the field, such as Ralph Bunch, Lillian Smith, Gunnar Myrdal— just to mention a few whose names most folks would recognize—the working in many different countries where I had the opportunity of collaborating with other talented people in cultures wholly different from our own, and the satisfaction of feeling that I’ve made some contribution in efforts to understand, develop, and improve communities in many areas of the world. Some of these failed but not all.
These things have afforded me a richer, more challenging kind of existence than I believe would have been possible had I not left Welcome. Still, the growing up in Welcome came first and was important. I am proud to be a Raper, I am proud to have learned to work the land, I am proud to be a Southerner.
Speaking of pride in being a Raper, I have to add to my expounding here to tell you of an incident that happened to our eldest, Charlie, while he was serving as platoon leader during the Korean War:
One of his duties was to see to it that his dozen or so fellows were all lined up periodically for inspection, neat and at attention with their name tags on straight. On one such occasion Charles Raper was late. He just barely managed to get the men in order and unfold himself in line when the captain appeared.
The captain, a tough and gruff one, inspected each man carefully, and when he got to Charlie he looked especially critical. “Young man,” he growled, “are you proud of your name?” Charlie, standing stiffly, staring straight ahead, deliberated for a time trying to make up his mind whether to haul off and bust him one, or take it on the chin. He strained finally to his full height and shouted back, ‘Yes, sir!’ whereupon the Captain said, in a somewhat softer tone, ‘Well then, son, turn your name tag over so all of us can read it.’”