The
man who views the world at 50 the same as he did at 20 has
wasted 30 years of his life.
Muhammad
Ali
Clifton
Sharp has seen a lot in his 86 years, and there has been much
to be seen.
The
great-grandson of a slave, whose father was the white master,
Sharp is a decorated veteran who served his country on foreign
soil, only to discover that there were very few jobs available
for a black man upon his return to his hometown.
This
Veteran’s Day, Sharp finds that more opportunities exist for
young black men returning to their hometown. He points with
pride to his grandson, Monroe City’s former Chief of Police
Monzell Sharp, who is owner of Sharp Brothers Disposal. He
also proudly notes that another college-educated young man, Ed
Talton, is the first black banker at UMB, where Mr. Sharp
banks.
For
nearly nine decades, this black man’s life has represented
many of the country’s major struggles-a great-grandfather
who was freed and given 40 acres of land, a time when a father
who sought help from his young son to provide for the family
during the Depression era, a time when blacks had their own
schools and their own military units, a time when
desegregation was celebrated by some while others fought it,
and a time when equal rights came under the Kennedy
administration. His story tells much of the history of Monroe
City-a time when indoor plumbing was notable, a time when jobs
were scarce and low-paying, a time when coal was used to heat
homes, a time when Henderson Produce Company was the area’s
largest employer, and a time when a man was measured by his
willingness to work and care for his family.
Born
Dec. 11, 1919, in the Centerville area of Marion County by
Barr School, Sharp was the oldest of five children born to one
of Jasper and Tom McClintic’s farm hands, Elmer Sharp, and
his wife, Lillie Buckman. Lillie was the daughter of Luvenia
and Bob Buckman whose father was slaveholder Bill Buckman. The
mother’s name is unknown. Elmer was the son of Alexander
Sharp, and his wife, Alice Baxter Sharp.
He
attended school at Sharpsburg School. There was a school for
blacks at one end of the road, and a school for whites at the
other end, close to one another and yet miles apart. Sharp
hitched a team of horses to the wagon daily to take his
siblings to school until fourth grade, when his formal
education was brought to an abrupt halt. He was needed to work
to help support the younger siblings. His abbreviated
education was not uncommon for the family’s oldest child
during Depression years.
Life
was simple, work during the daytime, sleep at night and games
of ball with the siblings on rare occasion when time
permitted. There were weekly trips to nearby Hunnewell for
groceries or to Monroe City. By the time he was 14, Sharp was
turning sod behind a team of four horses. “I’ve been
working ever since,” he says. “Working hard,” he says
soulfully.
The
pattern for Sharp’s future success would lie in the many
lessons his father would teach him in those early years.
“Dad always said to be honest and save money,” he says. He
remembers that his father would occasionally give him five
cents to go to the store to get candy. Along the way to the
store, he would encounter some of his uncles and they would
give him five cents for candy also. Sharp would trudge along
to the store; buy five cents worth of candy and pocket the
remaining nickel back for a rainy day. It was a habit that
became ingrained.
His
grandfather set an example of hard work and saving. He raised
long-green tobacco, made molasses, and rode his horse Liz to
area farms to castrate mules and horses. He also cut hickory
bark off of trees to cane chairs. By being frugal and working
hard, he bought a new Model T, the car that provided the
Sharp’s only childhood trip, a trip to Moberly.
Sharp’s
days were filled with hard work, and little play. Playing
cards, drinking and frolicking were not looked upon kindly by
the Sharps. Those who worked hard, stayed close to home and
took care of family earned the badges of honor in the Sharp
family. Sharp remembers his mother as always wearing an apron.
From the front porch, she would summons the rest of the family
in for dinner, which always included beans and cooked apples.
On days of rest, the front porch was where men would sit and
talk. And Sunday church attendance was mandatory for members
of the Sharp family. His grandfather was head of building the
church in Hunnewell. Today, Sharp follows in the obedient
tradition, being the oldest active member of the Second
Baptist Church of Monroe City.
Sharp
had rarely left the immediate circle of family when he was
drafted into the U.S. Army on July 14, 1942. He and
another prominent Monroe City black man, J.K. (Buck) Robinson
served in 1st Army 258 Signal Construction Co. with
Robinson becoming a master sergeant. He recalls that Robinson
had no fear of heights and would shimmy to the top of the
70-foot flagpole each morning to hoist the American flag over
their boot camp. The Monroe City inductees left Hannibal by
bus for Jefferson Barracks.
From
southern Missouri, the country boys were sent to Dawson Creek,
Canada, by train. The crew of linemen lived in tents to splice
cable and hook up 500 miles of telephone lines stretching from
Dawson Creek to Edmundton, Alberta. He was in Canada for a
year.
They
then went to Boston, Mass., and set sail for the eight-day
trip which “would kill the devil” to England where he
would live in foxholes, ever vigilant for the sounds of German
planes and sirens. From England, he went to Germany where he
was a corporal, often walking alone as he moved past
bombed-out houses which served as the only barrier between him
and tanks. He served in Scotland also, giving another 30
months of service overseas. There were 250 black soldiers in
the unit, led by white officers.
In
1941, Sharp moved to Monroe City with neighbors close by, the
“funny” taste of “town” water, and other new
experiences. His family was the first black family to have
indoor plumbing, and the first black family to have a car.
Determined not to follow in the footsteps of his father who
was accustomed to moving from farm to farm as he worked for
others, the younger Sharp set about buying property in town. He
now owns several lots, in addition to his own home, and a
250-acre farm north of Monroe City near his childhood home.
When
he returned from war, he married a young woman from Clarence,
and his brother, Cecil, who had been drafted a year later,
married her twin sister, Aletha. Their father had driven a
small bus from Clarence to Shelbina to Hunnewell and Monroe
City’s Washington School for black students. Her mother was
a school teacher in Clarence and Shelbyville. They had met at
a basket dinner at church prior to his deployment. They had
three children, Althea, the late Elizabeth and the late
Clifton Sharp. They separated when the children were 13, 12,
and 11, and the daughters lived with her and Clifton lived
with him. Today, Mrs. Sharp lives at Bristol Manor. He speaks
sadly of their separation, noting, “I worship the ground she
walked on.”
Sharp
found work at Farmers Elevator from 1946 to 1948 for 55 cents
an hour, scooping corn, and coal that was sold for heat. He
also picked geese at the old goose farm and scooped lime at
the Sandifer farm. He also helped his brother Cecil dig graves
by hand at the Catholic graveyard in Monroe City.
He
also worked at Henderson Produce on the dock from 1948 to
1950. He got paid 17 cents an hour there. After that he hauled
gravel and coal for people and also worked in Hannibal’s
railroad yards. He retired from Electric Wheel in Quincy,
Ill., and raised hogs on the farm.
One
of the more exciting times in Monroe City history that Sharp
recalls is when the notorious gunfighter John Dillinger and
his gang holed up at the former John Keller farm northeast of
Monroe City. Dillinger held the Jackson and Carpenter families
hostage as he evaded law authorities.
Today,
Mr. Sharp has limited eyesight, and has a friend, Marion
Whelan, drive him to the farm three times a week. He has
several dogs there that give him a robust welcome as he
arrives. Sometimes others will tell him that he is too old to
farm, but “I tell them, I just go out to the mail box and
get what it produces.”
He
says he had no time for hobbies during his lifetime. Today
Sharp’s home, which he shares with his brother, smells
of cooked cabbage and apples. The smell wafts to the front
porch where Sharp’s family and friends come to sit and
visit. “I just worked all of the time,” he says, words not
of a man who is complaining, but of a proud man who has earned
the right to sit on his porch and visit with friends and
relatives while the smell of good food beckons them inside at
mealtime.
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