by Charly Mann

Chapel Hill throughout most of its history has been a paradox when it comes to affording blacks the same rights and opportunities as whites. While many of its citizens have expressed progressive ideas about slavery, segregation, and racial inequality, Chapel Hill was usually passive or even reactionary when blacks asked for the same rights as whites.

I became personally involved in the civil rights struggle in town at the age of eleven, in 1960. At that time all the schools in Chapel Hill were segregated. The two motels in town, The University Motel and Watts Motel, did not allow blacks. The Bus Station, then a primary hub for transportation, had separate sides and bathrooms for blacks and whites. Both of Chapel Hill's movie theaters were segregated, as well as about 40% of its restaurants, including The College Café, The Pines, Brady's, Watts Grille, and Howard Johnson's. I was an early admirer of Dr. Martin Luther King and the tactics of non-violence he employed in the 1955 Montgomery Alabama bus boycott. I wrote to Dr. King on several occasions in 1961, and was fortunate to briefly interview him when my father was on sabbatical at the University of California.

This is from my 7th grade class picture at Chapel Hill Junior High School (Class of 1962-1963). It is a microcosm of the dynamics of Chapel Hill in 1962. In the center is Sandra Fe Farrington one of first blacks in a Chapel Hill public school, and one of the smartest and most courageous individuals I have ever known. Directly below her is Nancy Nottingham, a friend of mine since elementary school. Her father at this time ran the University Motel which did not allow blacks. From 1962 to 1964 it was the site of many demonstrations and sit-ins. I am on the right side of Nancy, and had already been a part of a protest at her family's business. On the upper right side is Rodney McFarling whose parents owned the EXXON station across from the Junior High School on West Franklin Street. McFarland was among the most popular individuals at the school and was considered a jock. The Chapel Hill Schools did not officially intergrate until 1966. McFarling was part of that class, and several  fellow blacks students have said that McFarling was one of the most accomodationg and friendliest whites they recall during that first year. Some of the other individuals pictured in the photo are Allen Rawls in the upper left, and Brad Hoffman to the right of Ms. Ferrington. Donna Huff is to the left of Nancy, and Mike Preston is to the left of Sandra.

By 1961 there was already a small but vocal civil rights movement in Chapel Hill. Its original focus was to integrate the Varsity and Carolina theater, and to allow blacks to sit down at the tables, counters, and booths at the Long Meadow Dairy Bar and Colonial Drug Store on West Franklin Street. As I recall, picketing, boycotts, and pressure from the University caused the two movie theaters to integrate by 1962. (I think at the Carolina though, the only blacks that could be admitted were those with UNC student IDs – which in those days were only a handful.) In the summer of 1962, just before I started seventh grade, I began marching in civil rights demonstrations down Franklin Street. These marches would usually start at a black Baptist Church located not far from where Crook's Corner is located today. I was usually the only white youth in these demonstrations. Most of the participants were blacks from the segregated Lincoln High School in Carrboro. There were also usually fifteen or twenty whites in the marches made up of a few students and professors, and Father Parker, a long retired Episcopal minister. The man who seemed most in charge of these events was Hilliard Caldwell, a black man who seemed to me to personify the virtues and beliefs of Martin Luther King Jr. The most active white leader in Chapel Hill's civil rights struggle was Pat Cusick who was in his early thirties and was a UNC graduate student.

In 1960, when I was eleven, I became very interested in Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and wrote to him several times. This is the first response I got from his assistant. I was impressed by the well thought out and personalized response.

Even though I was considered somewhat eccentric by most of my classmates for my involvement in the civil rights movement, I do not recall a single slur or derogatory comment ever hurled at me. I think part of this was that Chapel Hill celebrated, or at least tolerated, differences in beliefs and tastes better than most communities. In the summer of 1963, Cusick asked me if I wanted to go to with him to the March on Washington to hear Dr. King speak. I jumped at the opportunity, and recall that, besides Pat and me, most of the others on the bus from Chapel Hill to Washington were black. I got to carry a large sign in the march, and was fairly close to the podium to hear Dr. King’s famous "I Have a Dream" speech, though I confess that seeing and hearing Peter, Paul, and Mary perform made a more indelible impression on me at the time.

Pat Cusick organized the bus trip from Chapel Hill to Washington that I took. This letter is to Civil Rights leader Floyd McKissick who made a speech before Martin Luther King at the Lincoln Memorial during the March on Washington.

In the Spring of 1961, I was living in California with my father who was on sabbatical. Dr. King's organization, the SCLC, invited me to a small gathering of reporters at a church in Berkeley California where I got to talk to Dr King for several minutes. I recall walking about 25 blocks from my house to get to this church, and that there were less than fifteen people there to talk to him. (This is a page in the "book" I wrote about Dr. King for my fifth grade class.)

Over the course of the next several years I plan to offer several dozen features on the history of race relations and civil rights in Chapel Hill. There are many fascinating twists and turns to the story, as I have discovered that Chapel Hill was far more progressive in the first half of the twentieth century than most people think. I believe the town could have made much earlier strides in social justice and integration if some leader could have galvanized the community. As it was, Chapel Hill did not integrate its schools until 1966, two years after the 1964 Civil Rights Bill that outlawed segregation in schools. The University of North Carolina had a handful of black students before 1964, and it was not until 1966 that the University of North Carolina even had its first black basketball player, Charlie Scott.

My one souvenir from the March on Washington

 
This is the forward of my book on Dr. Martin Luther King from March 1961. I remember writing it out the evening after I interviewed him. I recall he gave me some suggestions for my book, and I think may have given me this poem. I have looked for it in his writings and have not found it. I did not assign anyone's name to it in my book, so I will attribute it to me or Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

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by Charly Mann

The fall of 1961 was a very strange time in Chapel Hill. In those months nine men in town met very unusual deaths, and for the most part the primary media in town – The Chapel Hill Weekly and WCHL - ignored these events. What puzzled me then as a twelve year old boy, and now, is why were so many men dying so young and mostly in such curious situations. I usually heard about these deaths from small pieces in the Durham Morning Herald or The Daily Tar Heel and was always disappointed that the deaths were rarely even mentioned anywhere else.

Henry Owen Jr's death certificate, from possible acute alcholism, September 1961, Chapel Hill, NC

I have now gone through old clippings and articles I saved from this time to give you a sampling of these circumstances. Of the nine deaths, the Chapel Hill coroner classified two as mysteries, four as suicides, one an accident, and two by natural causes. Most of these deaths seemed to me to merit more examination. For example on Saturday September 23, 1961 Harry Paxton Owen, Jr., 23 was found dead in his bed with a bottle of alcohol on his nightstand. The coroner did not perform an autopsy on Owen, but said on the death report that the "immediate cause" of death was "possible acute alcoholism." The next week on October 4th Robert Smith Mauldin, Jr., 33, died in his apartment on Prichard Avenue. Again, no autopsy was performed and this time the death certificate said "immediate cause of death due to natural causes and possible heart attack."

Robert Mauldin's death certificate , death from natural causes, possible heart attack, Chapel Hill, NC

The very day after Mauldin’s death, on October 5th, 1961, the strangest pair of deaths in Chapel Hill's history occurred. Two UNC students living in Cobb dormitory, James Michael Barham, 20, and William Henry Harrison Johnson, Jr., 24, were found dead in the bedroom they shared. For several days only the Tar Heel and the Durham paper reported information on these deaths, but after almost a week on October 10th the Chapel Hill Weekly published the following piece detailing these bizarre deaths.

STRANGE DEATHS IN COBB DORM

One week ago tomorrow, two students were found dead in their beds in Cobb Dormitory. So far, police have been able to establish that they died from cyanide poisoning. They do not know exactly how, or why. The investigation is continuing. This is the story up to the present.

From outward appearances, it is extraordinary that James Michael Barham and William Henry Harrison Johnson Jr. should be drawn together in a University student body of 9,000.

They formed an odd contrast.

Barham was 21, good-looking, with blond, crew-cut hair, a cleft chin, straightforward eyes and a friendly expression, and had been active in extracurricular activities as a high school student in Burlington, 25 miles away. At the University he was vice president of a musical fraternity, played trumpet in the University Band and with a small dance combo made up of the top pop players on campus.

Johnson was 24, three years older than Mike, a graduate student in industrial relations. He, too, had been a pre-medical student, but eye trouble had forced him to switch studies. His eyes were deep-set in a strong, dark face, and he wore dark-rimmed glasses. He was not a joiner, shunned extracurricular activities, rarely smiled, was quiet and retiring, and spoke, as a rule, only when spoken to.

When Barham and Johnson first met is vague, but their association had been definitely established by last spring.

When the spring semester ended, Johnson went to work for the summer as assistant manager of a suburban restaurant in Greensboro. He was highly regarded by his employer in Greensboro. "He was a clean-cut, nice-looking young man," the employer said. "Didn't smoke or drink. He had all the qualifications you'd require in a summer job like that."

After Johnson had been at the restaurant for three weeks, he persuaded his employer to give Barham a job. "He said Barham would be an asset," the employer said. "So we gave him a try. He worked Saturdays and Sundays as cashier." Johnson and Barham lived together in a Greensboro boarding house.

"They were very reserved," the employer recalled. "No horseplay. They were studious and bookish, what you would call academic. They were retiring, not outgoing—introverts."

Barham had dates while he was working in Greensboro, but Johnson apparently never did.

The restaurant owner said he understood that Barham was supposed to have had a date with a girl in Greensboro last Friday. When Barham failed to appear, the girl called Chapel Hill and was told that he was dead.

"Barham was an extremely nice boy, what you might call a mother's boy," the restaurant owner said. "He wanted desperately to do a good job for us. But he did not have the aggressive quality necessary to lead people. He was not forceful."

He recalled that Johnson had a habit of blinking his eyes when he talked to him and "you couldn't tell whether he was listening or not."

"The two boys were extremely fond of each other," the restaurant owner said.

Barham quit his job in Greensboro sometime in August. Johnson continued working at the restaurant up until just before the Univerity's fall semester began in mid-September.

When Barham returned last month to the University to begin his third year as a pre-medical student his plans were well-laid. He had a job as a student adviser in Cobb Dormitory, another job waiting on tables in the Lenoir Hall and a third part-time job picking up and delivering cleaning in the dormitory.

As a dorm adviser he had a room rent-free, with the comparative luxury of only one roommate. A record enrollment of 9,100 students this year had forced the University to assign three students to most of the older dormitory rooms. Barham's roommate had been assigned by University officials, an arbitrary choice.

A few days after classes started in mid-September, Johnson went to unusual lengths to have his room changed so he could live with Barham. He persuaded Barham's original roommate to move out. Barham accepted the change.

As an advisor, Barham was liked by many students in Cobb, one of the largest dormitories on campus and the home of more than four hundred students. Most of the students on Barham's floor were freshmen. They called him Mike. They went to him with their problems and found him friendly, easy-going, always eager to help. He had smile for everyone.

Mike Barham and Bill Johnson, two University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill students who died mysteriously in 1961 at Cobb Dormitory

With the semester still young and life in the dormitory largely impersonal, Johnson was known by only a few students. Those who knew him called him Bill.

Johnson began working again in Lenoir Hall with Barham. This struck some as rather puzzling, since Johnson wore expensive clothes, drove a 1960 car, and always seemed to have plenty of money.

Despite the sharp contrast of personalities, and an apparent lack of mutual interests, as roommates Barham and Johnson were very close. Their beds had matching spreads; a dual-speaker hi-fi phonograph was installed in their room for Barham, the music lover. There was a television set. The window was hung with green plaid draperies.

Unlike most other students, Barham and Johnson kept their rooms as neat as mother could have asked. Everything was in its proper place, just so.

Last Friday morning, October 6, Robert Holt, a Negro janitor at Cobb, entered the room to clean it. Barham and Johnson were still in bed. There was a pillow over Johnson's face and most of Barham's face was covered by the bedclothes. It had been a cool night. Holt swept the floor, all that was usually necessary, and left the room without disturbing the students. It was customary for janitors to sweep while students slept. He thought the two were heavy sleepers.

Later that morning, at 11:45 a telephone call came from the University dining hall to find out why Johnson and Barham had not reported for work. Holt answered the telephone. He buzzed the room, but no one came. Then he went down the hall and knocked on the door. There was no answer.

Holt entered the room and found Johnson and Barham still in their beds, lying just as he had seen them before. He peered around he edge of the bedclothes at Barham's face. There was a trace of foam at the mouth and blood at the nose. The eyes were slitted. Holt raced back to the phone and dialed the police.

Outside it was a beautiful autumn day. The sun shone warmly on the student parking lot and tennis courts behind Cobb. Across the street from the dormitory, the trees surrounding the University's outdoor theater were just on the turn from green to gold. A bell sounded across the campus, tolling the end of a class period. Students appeared, coming from classes, going to eat lunch at the Monogram Club beside Cobb. There was talk of the UNC-Clemson football game scheduled the next day.

The police arrived at Cobb, took one look in number 201, and detailed students to guard hall doors and stairways. Campus policemen arrived and supplemented the guard. The campus security officer came, and a County deputy sheriff. The coroner was called. Students who lived on the hall were asked to stay in their rooms or out of the building. While crowds of curious undergraduates clustered outside the dormitory and at the ends of Cobb's corridors and talked in muted tones, Barham and Johnson lay dead in their beds. They were lying on their backs, wearing pajamas.

Before the coroner arrived the questioning began. One student was interviewed in Johnson's and Barham's room. Another student's room was commandeered as a "waiting room" for passers-bys. Newsmen were either hustled away from the stairways or shuffled hurriedly into the "waiting room." The janitor was questioned. The police and the campus security officer roamed the second floor, searching for students who could shed some light, any light, on the deaths.

Later, after permission had been given to move the blanket-shrouded bodies, students ran interference in front of the bearers, waving their hands in front of photographers' cameras. Cobb Dormitory buzzed with speculation.

Last Friday, the police learned only one thing for certain: Barham and Johnson were dead. This week, they were still trying to find the answer to two questions: exactly how and why. They were turning out to be nagging questions, leading up a series of blind alleys.

Days of questioning students ed in a sketchy, often contradictory pattern of Barham's activities up until about twelve hours before the bodies were discovered.
Barham had reportedly conducted a meeting of his musical fraternity the night before, and was also reported seen in a Chapel Hill pool room at about the same time. Johnson's whereabouts at that time could not be established.

At 9:30 Thursday night a freshman went to 201 Cobb Dorm to pick up his dry cleaning from Barham. Barham and Johnson were in the room. The freshman was given his clothes by Barham, who was cheerful and smiling. The freshman noticed nothing unusual.

An hour and a half later Barham lurched from the room and staggered down the hallway to the bathroom. Several students were there washing. They heard Barham retching. Finally he spit out a small blob of mucous. Then he collapsed backward, curling up on the floor. One student rushed to help. Barham was having convulsions. His eyes were slitted. He appeared to have lost consciousness and was unresponsive.

The student ran out of the bathroom and down the hall and called Johnson. Before he reached the room, Johnson came out.

"Barham's sick," the student said. "Is he drunk?"

"He doesn't drink," Johnson said.

Johnson followed the student into the bathroom and stood astride Barham and tried to lift him. Then the student told Johnson to get out of the way and, with another student, helped Barham up. Johnson seemed to be annoyed. They carried Barham back to his room, with Johnson walking along holding Barham's arm, but making no effort to help carry his roommate. Going down the hall, Johnson muttered that his roommate was drunk again, contradicting what he had said minutes before.

The two students placed Barham on his bed, on top of the covers. His eyes were still slitted. The convulsions had ceased, but his breathing was labored. There was no odor of alcohol. He still seemed to be unconscious.

One student suggested calling an ambulance. Johnson did not appear to be concerned.

"If he doesn't snap out of it, I'll call a doctor myself," he said, then ushered the two students out of the room as quickly as possible.

When the door closed it was about 11:15. The bodies were discovered a little less than 12 hours later. Neither Barham nor Johnson were reported seen again alive.
News of the two deaths spread quickly, received first with shock, then swelling curiosity.

"This is a terrible tragedy," said Chancellor William B. Aycock. The University Band was reported to be reluctant to play at the football game the next day with Barham missing from the ranks. And the football players, who gave a listless performance in losing to Clemson, were said to have been affected by the news.
There were several public demands for the full facts of the case.

An autopsy ordered by the coroner disclosed that both had died from cyanide poisoning. But most of the other facts uncovered by pathologists and police turned out to be negative.

An examination of milkshake cups found in the room showed no trace of cyanide. Tests on fruit, cookies, and a jar of peanut butter in the room also failed to turn up any trace of cyanide. There was no evidence as to where the cyanide had been obtained or how it had been administered. It is a common chemical, easily obtained, easily disguised in taste. In sufficient quantity it causes death quickly and without marked symptoms. In smaller quantity it can cause death more slowly, with dizziness, labored breathing, convulsions, and coma.

Two days after the bodies were discovered, Ralph Sargeant, a student from Plainfield, New Jersey., was arrested on a charge of illegal dispensing of drugs. In his possession were eight mercuric cyanide pills. He had given a ninth pill to a fellow student with a note which said, "Save this. It may be your best friend on the way out."
Sargeant said he had gotten the pills from a Plainfield dental office where he had worked during the summer. He was relieved of the deadly pills and sent to the University hospital for observation. Officers said Sargeant's cyanide had no connection with the two deaths.

"We are pretty certain that it was not mercuric cyanide that killed them," said Chapel Hill Police Chief William Blake. "We don't think anyone's going around poisoning people."

One student questioned by police said Johnson had asked him about two weeks previously where he could get some "quick-acting poison." The student said he advised Johnson not to use cyanide because of its great danger.

The University Medical and Pharmacy Schools, chemistry labs, and Chapel Hill druggists and merchants were checked in an effort to find the source of the cyanide. Chief Blake said the chances of success were small.

"It's baffling," he said. "It looks almost impossible to arrive at any definite conclusions. I'm just hoping we'll be able to have enough evidence to prove what happened. It was either murder-suicide, double murder, or a suicide pact." He ruled out the possibility of accidental deaths.

The police also ruled out any connection between the death of Barham and Johnson and an unusual death discovered in town two days earlier. Robert Smith Mauldin, 33, an X-ray technician at the University Dental School, was found in his apartment sitting in a chair facing a television set, which was still on, with a magazine in his hand. A dog was wandering around the room. He had been dead about thirty-six hours when discovered. Death was ruled to be by natural causes. The specific cause was not announced and an autopsy was not performed.

Now the police are working on a theory of murder-suicide.

"We are close to a solution," Chief Blake said yesterday, "based on circumstantial evidence rather than on natural facts or an eyewitness. There are strong indications it was murder-suicide."

The police are investigating the possibility that cyanide was sprinkled on crackers and then covered with peanut butter.

Faint smears on Barham's sheet are being analyzed for traces of cyanide. An autopsy report on the students' vital organs also is pending. It has been a frustrating investigation for the police.

"What troubles me," said one officer, "is that we could carry this investigation on till doomsday and never come up with cold facts that would say, 'This is it. This is the way it happened and why it happened.”

From the October 10th 1961 Chapel Hill Weekly

To this day, the cause of these deaths remain a mystery. For the past 40 years, the Phi Mu Alpha Sinfonia fraternity at the University of North Carolina has awarded the James Michael Barham Memorial Scholarship in music in Barham's memory.

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by Charly Mann

Chapel Hill was first an idea, then a place, and for more than two centuries a community of incredible people. The idea of Chapel Hill originated in North Carolina’s 1776 constitution which called for the establishment of a state university. If it had not been for the distraction of the Revolutionary War a university would have been founded much earlier. On December 11, 1789, soon after North Carolina agreed to join The United States of America, a charter was granted by the state to found the university.

On August 1, 1792 a commission convened in Hillsborough to select a location for the university. They proceeded to draw a circle on map in the central part of the state that was thirty miles in diameter, and agreed that the new school would be located within that area. Almost in the center of that circle was a point called Cyprett's Bridge on the road from Hillsborough to Pittsboro. A group of landowners near that spot promoted an area a few miles south as the site for the new university, agreeing to give the state 1,386 acres of land for its use if it were selected. The commission accepted and on a summit 512 feet above sea level, then known only by a surveyor's designation on a map as Point Prospect, the cornerstone for the University of North Carolina was laid on October 12, 1793. The same day, 30 four acre lots were auctioned off around the University site for prospective inhabitants of a village that would support the new school. All but eight of those the lots were sold that day.

William R. Davie laying the cornerstone of Old East, the first state university building in the United States, on October 12, 1793. When Chapel Hill and the University were deserted from 1871 to 1874 the cornerstone was vandalized and its commemorative plate was stolen. In 1916 it was found in a scrapheap in Tennessee.

The town took its name from an abandoned Anglican chapel located at the highest point of the hill where the university was to be located. This is now the location of the Carolina Inn. Even twenty-five years after the University opened, what would become Chapel Hill had only 13 houses and a couple of stores. Chapel Hill did not officially become an incorporated town until 1850.

Hinton James walked 170 miles from Wilmington to Chapel Hill arriving on February 12, 1795 to become the University’s first student. Along the way he faced many obstacles including a brutally cold winter, many impassible roads, and several rivers and creeks that were very difficult to get across. His feet were so sore after his arrival that he stayed in bed for several days to recover. Fortunately there was not much to do at UNC yet, and it would be two more weeks before any more students showed up for classes.

Before the Civil War the only buildings on the campus were South Building, Gerrard Hall, Smith Hall (now the Playmaker's Theater), Pearson Hall, and the dormitories Old East, Old West, New East, and New West. Even though most students left to fight in the Confederate Army during the war, the University stayed open until the implementation of Reconstruction in 1868. The University closed in 1870 and South Building became a stable for cows and horses. Throughout the campus windows were shattered and plaster fallen from decaying walls covered the floors. Most of the magnificent oak trees on campus died, and cows and pigs roamed unattended through the campus and the abandoned town of Chapel Hill.

The University of North Carolina stays open, but most students march off  in 1861 past South Building to fight for Confederate Army during the Civil War

It was not a man, but a woman, Cornelia Phillips Spencer, who was responsible for the University's reopening. She single handily harangued the state government through articles in the then leading newspaper in the state, The Raleigh Sentinel, to appropriate the funds to re-open the university. When the University resumed operations in 1876 Chapel Hill had four general stores, three blacksmith shops, three woodworking shops, two drugstores and several shoemakers. Three years later in 1879 the town elected its first mayor. In 1897 the first woman student was admitted to UNC. In 1900 Carolina enrollment stood at 512, with 35 faculty members.

Chapel Hill and the University of North Carolina become a ghost town when University of North Carolina is closed from 1871 to 1875

The 1920s were boom years for Chapel Hill. Many new restaurants and stores opened along Franklin Street, several large buildings were added to the University campus, and Kenan Stadium was built. The University also announced plans to construct the Bell Tower and Graham Memorial.

The Depression stuck a severe blow to Chapel Hill. Many merchants and restaurants closed, and even the Pickwick movie theater shut down. The town was full of beggars, and churches and community organizations offering meals and clothing always had long lines. Many students had trouble paying their tuition and tried to find any work they could to avoid having to give up college. The Carolina Coffee Shop even gave free meals to students who had no money, and The University let students who could not afford to pay for dorm rooms live in Swain Dining Hall for $25 a semester.

Re-opening of the University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, September 1875

World War II lifted Chapel Hill out of the Depression and the town began to prosper as never before when the vets returned to the University on the GI Bill. In 1949 the Schools of Dentistry and Nursing began operation. Also that year the most magnificent building yet constructed on campus, The Morehead Planetarium, was opened. Finally, in 1952 North Carolina Memorial Hospital opened.

Since its founding Chapel Hill has grown from a small village to a small city. As late as 1880 Chapel Hill had less than 1,000 residents, including students. By 1950 the town's population had increased to 9,177 (again including students). Since 1990 it has grown from 37,596 to 56,000 today (2009).

The people have changed a lot too. While Chapel Hill's population has always been socially and politically progressive, as a community they did not unify for social change until May 6, 1969, when Howard Lee was elected the first black mayor of a predominantly white southern town. During the 1950s and 1960s when intergration and opposition to the war in Vietnam were major issues, very few prominent Chapel Hill citizens spoke out. Today Chapel Hill along with Madison, Wisconsin and Berkeley, California is one of the most liberal communities in the United States.

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by Charly Mann

I was born and raised in Chapel Hill in the 1950s and 1960s. While I won’t say this was the best time in my life, there was never a better time or place to grow up. The actual population of Chapel Hill was about 5,000 during the 50s, though the census claims it was 4,000 more. This was because students and graduate students who were often married and with children were also counted. Anytime there was a university holiday like Thanksgiving or Christmas and the students left, the town seemed nearly deserted. During the summers the population dwindled even more. In those days homes were not air conditioned, and many families took long vacations to the beach, mountains, or even retreated as far way as California or New England to avoid the oppressive heat and humidity. Also the majority of kids went way to camp for at least a month every summer. I recall several times walking up Franklin Street on a hot July afternoon in the mid-1950s and not seeing a single soul on the sidewalk from Henderson Street up to the corner of Columbia. So many of my friends would be away in the summers that I usually had to find a different set of kids to play with during those months.

These are some of my friends from Chapel Hill in the 1950s. From left to right, Tollie Clark who lived in Morgan Creek. Sandy Little who lived in Glen Lenox, myself Charles (Charly) Mann who lived on Old Mill Road in Greenwood, Joe Phillips who lived a couple of miles down on the then desolate, Barbee Chapel Road, Johnny Barret (on the back of Joe) who lived in Morgan Creek, and Hank Brandis, squatting in the middle, who lived around the corner from me on Arrowhead Road. This photo is from October of 1959.

I admit I was spoiled by Chapel Hill as a child. No other place could match the beauty, charm, and smile inducing people. I dreaded every vacation my family took, and vividly recall a sickening feeling each time we pulled out of our driveway to start a trip. I loved to breathe Chapel Hill's air and play in the many forests that were near my house. I lived in the Greenwood neighborhood near 15-501. In those days, it seemed almost traffic free much of the day. I crossed over it two or three times daily from the time I was six to walk to Glen Lenox or Glenwood School. By the time I was eight I had a Schwinn bicycle which I rode all over Chapel Hill. I had several friends who lived on Morgan Creek Road, one in Highland Woods, and two in Glen Lenox who I would bike over to see. I rode the the majority of the way on the side of 15-501.

My friends and me in my front yard on Old Mill Road in Chapel Hill, having a snowball fight, January 1958. Every year growing up we had at least one heavy snowfall. There were always many large snowmen in people's yards, and many of the fraternities in town created magnificent snow sculptures. The best place to ride our sleds was from the top of Stagecoach Road.

It seems that I always had a job or some other means of making money. When I was seven I collected empty discarded bottles along roadways within a mile radius of my house in a red wagon I pulled behind me. I could often collect several hundred bottles a week which I would redeem at the Colonial Store in Glen Lenox for two cents each. During football season I sold bottled drinks out of a bucket of ice as I walked up and down the stairs of Kenan Stadium. I also sold programs and pennants outside the stadium before the game began. The longest employment of my youth was delivering the Chapel Hill Weekly (then published twice a week on Wednesday and Sunday) from 1961 to 1964. My route encompassed all of Greenwood, as well as the Gimghoul area, and Country Club Road all the way down Laurel Hill Road to 15-501.

Charles Mann at five years old: My mother made entries about my interests and activities from time to time. For better or worse, all these attributes still apply to me.

Marked in blue is my twice-weekly Chapel Weekly paper route from 1961 - 1964

I cherish the town and people I grew up with. Chapel Hill was a small town and people not only knew all their neighbors, they knew almost everyone in their neighborhood. Greenwood, where I grew up, was made up of over 75 families. Everyone was married and had at least one kid. I never met anyone who even had a parent who had been divorced until 1962, and she lived with her father and stepmother. I can still remember the last names of all my neighbors, and the first names of most them. Neighbors were also people your parents socialized with on a regular basis. People often dropped by to talk for an hour or more. Many women were members of afternoon bridge clubs that rotated to a different house each week. Many people had dogs, and their dogs ran free (no fences). More amazingly, I played in the woods and most of the yards in Greenwood, and never recall seeing dog excrement anywhere. I've long suspected that dogs naturally find very out of the way places to do their business when given the chance.

I'm having a picnic lunch with my friend Terry Golden who brought along his little sister Maureen Golden in the stripped shirt. I'm topless and my sister, Carol, is sitting in front of my bicycle. This is from June of 1956.

Wherever you went in Chapel Hill in the 1950s you recognized most of the faces you saw, and they were always friendly. More often than not people not only said hello, but actually engaged in a little conversation to catch up, even when pushing a cart down an aisle at Fowler's grocery store. As I grew older I sometimes saw people I did not recognize. By the late 1960s Chapel Hill had grown and changed so much that most people I saw were now unfamiliar. Nevertheless in every store or along Franklin Street there were always some faces you knew. By the mid-1970s (when the University Mall opened) I would often guess how many people I would run into who I knew when I went shopping. In the beginning it was always over ten, but by the late 80s it was often down to one or none. Things had really changed.

Old Mill Road in Chapel Hill was gravel until 1960 when it was paved and had guttering put down.

These two pictures are of me, Charles Mann, on January 1, 1951 (age 2) creating Old Mill Road in the Greenwood neighborhood of Chapel Hill. My parents built two homes here. One was finished in the Spring of 1951, and the other next door in 1954. The latter house is on the east side of Old Mill, next to the intersection with Arrowhead Road, and the other is next door, across from where Stagecoach Road intersects with Old Mill.

Today many people prefer the anonymity of a large and impersonal city, but for me, I would not want to grow up anyplace else or in any era than Chapel Hill when I did. 

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by Charly Mann

Woodstock was not the first great three day music festival; it was the University of North Carolina's Jubilee. Beginning in 1963 and continuing through 1971, Jubilee was a spectacular marathon of music, joy, and love that featured the top musical acts in the world at the peak of their popularity.

Crowd on McCorkle Place watching the second Jubilee, April 1964

It all started in the spring of 1963 when the Student Union wanted to bring the Four Preps, one of most popular groups on college campuses at the time, to perform free for the entire student body at Memorial Hall. The problem was Memorial Hall only held 1600 people and was way too small to accommodate everyone. The idea was hatched to have the concert outside under the trees on a stage in front of Graham Memorial. Soon the concept was expanded to become a three day open air party of music, dance, and film called Jubilee, with the slogan "A Salute Spring." The festival was held Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, April 26-28. The stage was placed at the center of McCorkle Place not far from Franklin Street. Students and their dates were the only people that were supposed to attend, but there were no gates, security, or ticket takers, and many townspeople, including myself, then a 13 year-old boy with a passion for music, were also there. (I attended all but one of the nine Jubilees)

The Four Preps performing the first night of the first University of North Carolina Jubilee

From 2PM to around 10PM folk and pop-jazz groups performed on the main stage. The Four Preps concert on Friday attracted more than 5,000 people sitting on blankets almost as far back as the Old Well. On each day of Jubilee major motion pictures were shown for free at 6:30, 8:30, and 10:30 at Graham Memorial. At the close of performances on the main stage, the party simply got larger and expanded into five separate stages around campus where rock combos (a term used to refer to rock bands in the pre-Beatles days) performed almost until dawn. Those stages were in the Planetarium parking lot, in Y-Court, behind the Ackland Art Museum, in Steel Hall's parking lot, and directly in front of Graham Memorial. The headline act for the closing night was The Chad Mitchell Trio whose repertoire contained several songs that mocked right-wing thought and promoted integration. This was at a time when many businesses in Chapel Hill did not allow blacks, and the majority of the state and much of Chapel Hill was politically conservative.

Politcally irreverent folk group The Chad Mitchell Trio, final act of the first Jubilee

Beautiful coed enjoys Four Preps singing their hit song 26 Miles to Catalina

The first Jubilee at UNC was a huge success, and by the following Monday as bleary eyed students returned to classes, the student union began plans for a second Jubilee in 1964. Amazingly, the total cost for the first Jubilee was only $4,000. Jubilee become an annual tradition until 1971. For the next four years the concert continued to be held in McCorkle Place, and headline acts included The Serendipity Singers, Flatt and Scruggs, and Petula Clark in 1965, who chose Chapel Hill as the first place in America to perform her #1 song, Downtown.

James Taylor sings Carolina in My Mind, UNC Jubilee April 1970

As the University's enrollment increased and rock replaced folk as the preferred music on campus, UNC's Jubilee expanded into a major rock festival. In 1970 the event was held at Kenan Stadium and featured, Blood, Sweat, and Tears, then the biggest act in America with three top ten hits, as well as Grand Funk Railroad, Sweetwater, the Bar-Kays, Pacific Gas and Electric, and James Taylor, just months after the release of his Sweet Baby James album. The crowd particularly enjoyed his renditions of Fire and Rain and Carolina in My Mind. The highlight act though was Joe Cocker with his huge Mad Dogs and Englishmen ensemble that featured Leon Russell and Rita Coolidge. That year's crowd was far different than in 1963. Almost everyone was on some mind altering substance especially pot which permeated the air. LSD was also a popular drug of choice. The group that surrounded me enjoyed some amazing marijuana brownies. The UNC athletic department was unhappy with their football stadium being used in this manner, and in 1971 Jubilee was moved to Navy Field (which sits below Fetzer Field). That was the final year of Jubilee, and featured the Allman Brothers with Duane on lead guitar, Alex Taylor, Chuck Berry, B.B. King, Muddy Waters, Spirit, and the J Giles Band.

Crowd at Kenan Stadium UNC Chapel Hill Jubilee 1970

By 1971, I recall many of those in attendance looked more like members of a motorcycle gang than UNC students or Chapel Hill hippies. This group was responsible for a number of fights, vandalism, and the serious injury of a security guard. That was enough for the administration and the Student Union, and Jubilee Music Festival at the University of North Carolina, perhaps the best outdoor music celebration of all time, came to an end.

 Duane Allman performing as the last act of the final UNC Jubilee May 1, 1971 (photo by Ric Carter)

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by Charly Mann

June 25, 2009 was the last day of operation for the iconic Varsity Theater in Chapel Hill. Its last features were The Hangover and The Brothers Bloom. The Varsity stood at the heart of downtown Chapel Hill in the Sorrell building for almost sixty years. For most of its history optometrist Dr Kohn's office was on its left side and Jeff's Confectionary (popular with men for being the only business in town that sold "adult" magazines) was on the right. While the theater in recent years has established a reputation for showing top quality independent and foreign films, during the majority of its operation it was home to low budget B movies. The Carolina Theater across the street, in most cases, showed the major Hollywood releases. The Varsity occasionally got a major movie like A Streetcar Named Desire or Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf, but this was because the Carolina passed on them due to their controversial content. The Varsity's typical fare in the 1950s was science fiction, horror, and westerns, and by the late 60's shook things up by showing soft-core porn such as Mamie Van Doren's Three Nuts in Search of a Bolt and Jayne Mansfield's Promises Promises.Throughout most of the 1950's the Varsity also had a children's movie every Saturday morning for an admission of between 10 and 25 cents. Occasionally the admission was six bottle caps from Coke or Pepsi Cola bottles, which often sponsored the shows.

Ad from January 1952

Showing in June 1963 (This movie had been shown at The Carolina Theater a year earlier)

The mid 1970s was the pinnacle of popularity and prosperity for the theater, due primarily to it getting the rights to show the first Star Wars movie in 1977. (At the time of its release it was looked on by theater owners as another low budget science fiction film). From 1978 to 1985 it was home to a highly popular weekly audience participation showing of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Mickey (Hurysz) Mann, now an accountant in Austin, Texas, worked at the Varsity in 1969. She is a 1971 Chapel Hill High School graduate, and was a regular at the Varsity's showings of the Rocky Horror Picture Show before graduating from UNC in 1978.

Lynne (Hursyz) Harmon, Chapel Hill High School Class of 1972, now a retail store manager in Springfield Missouri, worked at the Varsity from 1970 to 1972. She was 15, and a sophomore in high school when she started. Lynne recalls Frank Zappa's 200 Motels and the pornographic cartoon, Fritz the Cat, as being two of most popular movies during her time at the theater. Ticket prices in those days for adults were $1.50 and 50 cents for children. Matinee prices were $1.25 and 25 cents respectively. She reveals that they never actually popped their popcorn, but simply warmed it, since it came in large plastic bags. The Varsity from the 1950s through 1983, when it was converted into two separate theaters, was literally the coolest place in town because its air conditioner was set to literally chill its patrons.

Playing July 3, 1969

Showing July 1972

The Varsity closed because it was losing money. This was caused by a number of factors. First, parking is hard to find and is expensive in downtown Chapel Hill. Second, many of the potential customers for its films felt uncomfotable and unsafe in the downtown area. (Chapel Hill Memories has had at least a dozen recent e-mails complaining about the street life and the odors and graffiti in the alleys downtown). Finally, for economic reasons there are far fewer high caliber independent and foreign films being made, and also far fewer UNC students are interested in these types of films than in past generations.

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