Black By God The West Virginian is a developing community-led journalism venture, seeking to fortify our civic infrastructure in a time that journalism is needed the most.

BBG’s Folk Reporters Program is seeking citizens and civic actors, creators, and collaborators representing a broad base of intergenerational, diverse communities to explore the 2021 West Virginia Legislative agenda that impacts Black citizens.

Bringing the community together by democratizing news and information at the local level, focusing on Black voices and Black issues we all benefit from, and keeping our local government accountable to the people -- ALL the people.

Democracy doesn’t just happen. As a nation, we have to earn it. Every. Day.

So, what does the Folk Reporters Program do? Great question. It:

Join Our Folk Reporters Program

A new employee-owned take-out restaurant, Phat Daddy’s On Da Tracks-- located at 480 Railroad Avenue, West Side, Charleston, West Virginia-- is set to officially open its doors following Thanksgiving weekend.

The family business owners are Cameron Cordon, Octavia Cordon and daughter Azelah Cordon.

Given the nature of the pandemic, opening weekend has promising potential considering the virtual constraints throughout the initial start-up stages of their venture. Aside from virtual obstacles, Phat Daddy’s has been denied a $10,000 business grant offered by the City Of Charleston three times over the past several months, with the most recent rejection occurring at the end of October.

“Nothing seems to phase them,” said Mavery Davis, a cooperative business developer who has been working with them to get started for the past year.

“They are a resilient group of people. Everytime a grant was denied or a deck needed to be leveled to meet city code...you name it, Phat Daddy’s figured out a way to overcome the problem and move forward,” Davis noted.

Their perseverance, hard work and determination is continuously paying off. Phat Daddy’s recently secured a sizable non-extractive loan from Seed Commons. In sum, this is a form of financing that triggers payback only when the business is generating consistent profits-- not before.

Seed Commons is a national network of locally-rooted, non-extractive loan funds that brings the power of big finance under community control. By taking guidance from the grassroots and sharing capital and resources to support local cooperative businesses, their mission is building the infrastructure necessary for a truly just, democratic and sustainable new economy. Davis serves as the project manager for New Economy Works West Virginia, a member of the

Cooperative business models have a history of being anchors to the communities they serve. In fact, concern for the community is one of the seven cooperative principles of the International Cooperative Alliance.

Phat Daddy’s employees are a double-sided sword, serving as both workers and owners and they have already begun making an impact in Charleston as a High Road Kitchen.

This means they support One Fair Wage; full minimum wage including tips and believe all their employees should benefit from such a system. As a High Road Kitchen, they incorporate a monthly meal distribution to the community by partnering up with local shelters, residential complexes and others to provide free meals to those in need.

Phat Daddy’s customers will also have the option to buy a meal and pay a meal forward for $10.

"We believe in our community and we want to help rebuild a better West Side,” the family said.

Phat Daddy's BBG Story Submission

Phat Daddy's

Phat Daddy's On Da Tracks- Opening After Thanksgiving Weekend 🦃

A new employee-owned take-out restaurant, Phat Daddy’s On Da Tracks-- located at 480 Railroad Avenue, West Side, Charleston, West Virginia-- is set to officially open its doors following Thanksgiving weekend. 


Phat Daddy's On Da Tracks- Opening Following Thanksgiving Weekend 🦃

Rebuilding My Family’s History and the Significance of Black Death, Wealth, and Discovery

s family in 1927; (left to right) James, James Jr., Charlotte, and Mattie Campbell

This question recurred to me throughout the summer of 2020. I didn

need to see it to understand that he died in vain at the hands of a system that time and again fails to serve and protect its non

white citizens. I avoided seeing the video, but social media and poorly chosen thumbnail images forced me to see it in pictures instead

s seemingly universal condemnation of this murder, no arrests had been made.

For me, officer Derrick Chauvin became a symbol of every racist and hateful act I

ve experienced in my Black life. Whenever I see the image of him kneeling on Mr. Floyd

s neck with his hands in his pockets, staring directly into

s telling me that people who look like me do not belong in this world. The almost obsessive way the video blazed around the world, while other Black people continued to suffer at the hands of police,felt devastating. Where was the consideration for Black people who have suffered generational trauma at the hands of people like Chauvin? Where  was the sensitivity for Mr. Floyd

The more stories I saw of Black families grieving their loved ones unjustly  killed by the police, the more I thought of my great-grandfather, James Cubert Campbell. He also lived through a pandemic and was famously

as the first Black undertaker and first Black city councilman in  Charleston, West Virginia. At the time, those little-known facts and pieces of  family history were all I knew about my late ancestor. His work as an

in a segregated market made him one of the richest Black men in Charleston. Until summer 2020, I

d never considered the significance of my great-grandfather, known as Campbell, and his role in the community or the care he provided for grieving Black families. As I thought about the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and countless others, the dignity they were denied in their deaths overwhelmed me.

Inspired by the few details I knew about my great-grandfather, someone  who provided dignity to Black folks in times of tragedy, I dug into my family  history. I started with his obituary, which my mother

, Nicky, keeps framed in his study. Though he

, Nicky often shares the few stories passed down to him with immense  pride.

The obituary mentions my great-grandfather worked as a newspaper columnist before he went to mortuary school. Therefore, I began reaching  out to archivists at the various libraries in Charleston, West Virginia, to see if I could get copies of his work. Despite an ongoing pandemic, the archivists quickly responded with an overwhelming amount of articles, not  only ones written by my great-grandfather but others mentioning him and  his accomplishments from 1902 through 1956, the year he died. Reading  my great-grandfather

in print felt like oxygen. I could not live

of my life without reading every word I could find. Through

months researching. I exhumed  a vital history about my family and Charleston, overlooked not only by history.

The author's great-grandfather, James Cubert Campbell; date unknown

My great-grandfather was the first free man born in his family. His father,  General James Alexander Campbell, was a slave from Virginia who fought  in the Civil War when he was about 20-years-old. General Campbell  achieved the rank of a brigadier general—a rare position for a Black man.

After the war, General Campbell settled in the newly established state of  West Virginia, where he worked as a barber. During Reconstruction, Black  barbers cut both white and Black men

. Establishing himself as a business owner, General Campbell flourished as a wealthy and respected  entrepreneur.

Campbell was born around 1876, just as Jim Crow laws came into effect to  stifle the developments by people like his father. Under Jim Crow, Black  people lived with the constant threat and reality of disenfranchisement and  violence. Despite these obstacles, my great-grandfather worked his way  through school and graduated from Howard University Law School in 1904.  He understood the importance of being an educated Black man and

as many Black people as possible. However, he encountered another  obstacle—most Black folks could not afford lawyers, and most white folks  would not hire a Black lawyer. So, he began writing as a newspaper

in Washington, D.C., covering politics to supplement his income. He  was a fervent supporter of the Party of Lincoln,” the Republican party. He encouraged Blacks to vote straight Republican tickets as a way to combat  disenfranchisement and Jim Crow laws. He often traveled back to West  Virginia to campaign for various Republican candidates. On November 22,  1902, The Colored American wrote:

Mr. James Cubert Campbell…made one of the best speeches of the West Virginia campaign at the final rally at the Court House  (sic) in Charleston. It was a complete and logical presentation of  the issues from a republican standpoint, (sic) and contributed  largely to the success of Congressman (sic) Joseph H. Gaines,  who received a heavy vote at the hands of the colored people of  the Charleston

In the summer of 1908, Campbell returned to his hometown—a trip that  changed the course of his life. One late afternoon in July, he and his  friends, Arthur Jackson and Thomas Nutter, attempted to save a

boy, Roy James, from drowning. The Advocate reported, “…Jackson,  Nutter, and Campbell plunged [into the Kanawha river], the last named (sic) without disrobing. [Roy

s] body was found…fastened in the mud, which was very deep at that point.” Despite their efforts to resuscitate him, Roy sadly  perished. Moved by the incident, my great-grandfather enrolled in the  Cincinnati College of Embalming in Ohio around 1909. In 1912, he returned  home and opened his undertaking business, The House of Campbell, the  first in Charleston, WV, to be owned by and for Black people.

A traditional African-American funeral is called a Homegoing, which

dignity for the deceased and celebrates the person

. Home goings originated in African tradition and still occur today, with pageantry  playing an essential part in the ritual. Silk-lined caskets, ornate floral  arrangements, elaborate programs, and mourners garbed in colorful or  white outfits instead of black

To understand the impact of my great-grandfather

s role as an undertaker during his time, particularly within the Black community of Charleston, I  reached out to Dr. Suzanne Smith, author of

To Serve the Living: Funeral  Directors and the African-American Way of Death

director facilitated the arrangements for a homegoing. Undertakers  acted as grief counselors for the deceased's family, and through this, they  garnered respect, wealth, and a stable business. Being an undertaker also  served as the launching pad for many men into influential positions in

. Paradoxically, segregation played an essential part in securing wealth  for Black undertakers due to the guaranteed client base. Throughout the  remainder of 2020, as the death toll of unarmed Black Americans climbed,  my heart broke thinking about the family members who couldn

t have homegoings for their loved ones. A traditional funeral was not possible

of the intense and necessary COVID-19 restrictions.

Another irony for Campbell—his business boomed during the 1918

. My Uncle Bill told me my great-grandfather poured all of his  money back into the business after the 1918 pandemic. Dr. Smith writes:

“…black funeral directors were perhaps the most successful

of the House of Campbell, it seemed my great-grandfather did quite well for himself. He constructed a  new funeral home from the ground up, complete with a chapel attached.  According to my Uncle, the funeral homes design drew inspiration from the Parthenon, complete with enormous white columns in front. My great grandfather even commissioned a custom Cadillac ambulance and hearse  to be shipped from Ohio, only adding to his prominence in Charleston.

Campbell drew a lot of attention as a prominent community member,  though not all of it positive. Around the same time, as his business grew  more prosperous, First Baptist Church—one of the first Black churches in  Charleston—kicked him out. He had been moved by the spirit one too  many times during worship—he enjoyed singing and dancing during the  quiet services—and so was asked not to come back. In retaliation, he built  the St. James Episcopal Church. I asked my

St. James” was a way for my great-grandfather to name the church after

In the 1920s, Charleston, West Virginia, existed as a different city than it is  today. People regarded it as a metropolis, similar to Washington, D.C., with  a prime location separating the North and the South; it was a destination for  Southern Blacks during the Great Migration and a stopping point along the  way to cities like Chicago. As a result, several politicians and civic

across the country looked to West Virginia as an example for legislation  regarding race.

The Campbell family lived in a neighborhood known as The Block.

by brothels and considered undesirable by the white citizens of  Charleston, Black residents settled into the area. They created businesses,  headquarters for fraternities/secret societies, a public high school, and an  elite hotel. Though they lived in a thriving, prominent neighborhood,

knew everybody and their business. Neighborhood kids played in the street, and community events bustled with energy and life. These

made Charleston a cultural hub for entertainers and intellectuals.  Everyone from W.E.B. DuBois, a personal friend of my great-grandfathers, to Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald, stopped in Charleston. Throughout  the 1910s-1950s, the Block existed as a lively area for Black enterprise and entertainment.

, Charlotte Campbell, date unknown; the authors great-aunt, Marjory Campbell, date unknown

In 1922, Campbell married my great-grandmother, Mattie Marie Martin, who  was about 20 years his junior. She was the reason our family calls him  Campbell, though it

s uncertain if she referred to him on a last name basis because of her school teacher background or because she became his  employee once they married. At the funeral home, she became the First Lady.” Her duties involved bathing, doing the hair and makeup, and

the corpses. My Uncle Bill recalled my great-grandmother being a very  religious woman, so much so that when funk music came onto the scene,  she thought the name was blasphemous. As the last person to offer the

any physical sense of tenderness, I imagine her taking a lot of pride  in her role as First Lady. Each morning, my great-grandfather went over Mattie

outward success, there were problems not everyone saw. As a father, Campbell held high expectations for his children to excel  in school and become independent. For example, he taught my

, Charlotte, and my great-aunt Marjory to drive because he didn

t want them to sit in the back of the bus. As my

went on, my great-grandmother became resentful and felt unacknowledged  for the work she put into the business. Murtala said my great-grandmother  would often lament, everyone always talks about Campbell loud enough for anyone within earshot.

Even as his business thrived, Campbell still held his convictions about

. He sat on several committees that sought to

and uplift the Black and immigrant communities of Charleston. These  groups fought for and achieved the desegregation of the public library, the  implementation of an anti-lynching law, the creation of West Virginia's first  Blacks-only 9-hole golf course, and the legislation restricting the showing of D.W. Griffith

involvement grew over the years, and by 1931, he became Charleston

s first Black city councilman, a seat he held for 25 years.

While balancing his funeral business and his political career, Campbell  groomed my great-uncle James Jr. to take over the House of Campbell.  However, as racial tensions grew throughout the 1940s, my great-uncle  and his siblings lived in fear of the future. My mom

s cousin, Murtala, said it was difficult for them as educated Black people to be told that they had to  know their place” in society. African-American Historian, Ancella Radford Bickley, writes:

I think West Virginia has a kind of mixed history. I believe that Blacks were encouraged to move in certain directions, but they  would bump into that invisible wall if they stepped outside of the  things that were supposedly correct.”

Those invisible walls began to close in on the Black community in

s pivotal role in politics was dismantled and replaced with the agenda of the KKK and white supremacists. Today we can see how

white supremacists were in pushing forth their agenda; let

When my great-grandfather died in 1956, the family closed the House of  Campbell after 44 years of service. The funeral home and other prominent  Black-owned businesses on The Block were sold to the state and razed flat  due to redlining and urban

like an Interstate Highway, similar to other Black cultural centers like Tulsa, OK, and Detroit, MI. My  great-uncle moved his family to Ohio. My great-aunt Marjory followed. My  grandmother Charlotte took her inheritance and built a family home in rural  New Jersey. My great-grandmother Mattie moved in with her beloved  younger brother, John, and his wife, Sarah. She spent her remaining days  as a socialite as the Black high society in Charleston faded away alongside

decades of hard work and Black history, the exact opposite outcome my  great-grandfather had centered his life around.

s family in the parlor of their home, The House of Campbell, date unknown; the author!s family in 1946

During conversations with my family members lucky enough to remember  Campbell, they each came to the same conclusion—he was born at the  wrong time. Although my great-grandfather led a remarkable life, he never  felt like he accomplished enough. Despite his wealth, respect, and

in his community, he was frustrated that he could not take his

ambitions beyond his city council seat. He always felt resentment from  the white businessmen in Charleston, whom he knew would not elect him  to a higher office. Despite his tenacity in business, he was oppressed by  Jim Crow laws and the ideology of the time.

With so much Black history lost because of slavery, racism and the white washing of American history, I never knew I had the right to search for my  family history. I didn

t think there would be anything to find. As a young Black girl living in the suburbs of Philadelphia and attending predominantly  white school systems, the Black history I learned was limited to Harriet

Tubman, Martin Luther King Jr., and Rosa Parks. I

ll never forget the in class essay assigned in elementary school about what day-to-day life  would have been like for me pre-Civil War. While my white classmates  worked diligently on the prompt, I wrote through tears that I would have  been a slave. When I got to college, I met someone whose ancestor signed  the Declaration of Independence. I was so envious they knew their

beyond their grandparents. Discovering the  rich details of Campbell

have been profound. I believe his remarkable insight into the power of the press was one of his greatest assets. His

relationship with the media allowed his story to be preserved and now  passed down through our family. On March 21, 1907, my great-grandfather  wrote in The Advocate:

The people, those who own the press, have the arms that rock the universe. And it is such cogent arms as these that the colored  people in this country, today, need and need badly. In other  words, these people are sadly in need of newspapers to create  public sentiment in their favor and to fight adverse sentiment  which is submerging them beneath a relentless contempt and  merciless caste hatred.”

It saddens me that the America I live in is not more progressive than the  America he was trying to change; that Black people are still combating

contempt. Though the tragic events of summer 2020 made me  skeptical that our country is making progress in dismantling systemic  racism, I don

t think my great-grandfather would want me to feel that way. Instead, I think he would encourage me to use my voice, build community,  and challenge my oppressor—maybe then I

Actress & writer based in Los Angeles, CA Contact: @samanthasnapped on Instagram

The House of Campbell- Rebuilding My Family's History and the Significance of Black Death, Wealth, and Discovery

A Family’s History and the Significance of Black Death, Wealth, and Discovery In West Virginia 




The author’s family in 1927; (left to right) James, James Jr., Charlotte, and Mattie Campbell

of my life without reading every word I could find. Through

Actress & writer based in Los Angeles, CA Contact: @samanthasnapped on InstagramTop Photo:

Actress & writer based in Los Angeles, CA Contact: @samanthasnapped on InstagramTop Photo:

It saddens me that the America I live in is not more progressive than the  America he was trying to change; that Black people are still combating relentless contempt. Though the tragic events of summer 2020 made me  skeptical that our country is making progress in dismantling systemic  racism, I don’t think my great-grandfather would want me to feel that way. Instead, I think he would encourage me to use my voice, build community,  and challenge my oppressor—maybe then I’ll realize my ancestors wildest dream.

Actress & writer based in Los Angeles, CAContact: @samanthasnapped on Instagram

Perhaps we aren’t our ancestors' wildest dreams? This question recurred to me throughout the summer of 2020. I didn’t watch the video of George Floyd’s murder. I didn't need to see it to understand that he died in vain at the hands of a system that time and again fails to serve and protect its non-white citizens. I avoided seeing the video, but social media and poorly chosen thumbnail images forced me to see it in pictures instead. Despite the world’s seemingly universal condemnation of this murder, no arrests had been made.

For me, officer Derrick Chauvin became a symbol of every racist and hateful act I’ve experienced in my Black life. Whenever I see the image of him kneeling on Mr. Floyd’s neck with his hands in his pockets, staring directly into Darnella Frazier’s camera lens— I feel as though he stares through me. He’s telling me that people who look like me do not belong in this world. The almost obsessive way the video blazed around the world, while other Black people continued to suffer at the hands of police,felt devastating. Where was the consideration for Black people who have suffered generational trauma at the hands of people like Chauvin? Where  was the sensitivity for Mr. Floyd's family or other Black families who suffered the same tragic injustice?

The more stories I saw of Black families grieving their loved ones unjustly  killed by the police, the more I thought of my great-grandfather, James Cubert Campbell. He also lived through a pandemic and was famously unknown as the first Black undertaker and first Black city councilman in  Charleston, West Virginia. At the time, those little-known facts and pieces of  family history were all I knew about my late ancestor. His work as an undertaker in a segregated market made him one of the richest Black men in Charleston. Until summer 2020, I’d never considered the significance of my great-grandfather, known as Campbell, and his role in the community or the care he provided for grieving Black families. As I thought about the deaths of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and countless others, the dignity they were denied in their deaths overwhelmed me.

Inspired by the few details I knew about my great-grandfather, someone  who provided dignity to Black folks in times of tragedy, I dug into my family  history. I started with his obituary, which my mother's cousin, Nicky, keeps framed in his study. Though he didn't grow up knowing my great-grandfather, Nicky often shares the few stories passed down to him with immense  pride.

The obituary mentions my great-grandfather worked as a newspaper columnist before he went to mortuary school. Therefore, I began reaching  out to archivists at the various libraries in Charleston, West Virginia, to see if I could get copies of his work. Despite an ongoing pandemic, the archivists quickly responded with an overwhelming amount of articles, not  only ones written by my great-grandfather but others mentioning him and  his accomplishments from 1902 through 1956, the year he died. Reading  my great-grandfather's words in print felt like oxygen. I could not live the rest of my life without reading every word I could find.

Through conversations with my family members (some of whom I’d never even met), historians, archivists, and librarians, I spent several months researching. I exhumed  a vital history about my family and Charleston, overlooked not only by history.

Photo: The author's great-grandfather, James Cubert Campbell; date unknown

After the war, General Campbell settled in the newly established state of  West Virginia, where he worked as a barber. During Reconstruction, Black  barbers cut both white and Black men's hair. Establishing himself as a business owner, General Campbell flourished as a wealthy and respected  entrepreneur.

Campbell was born around 1876, just as Jim Crow laws came into effect to  stifle the developments by people like his father. Under Jim Crow, Black  people lived with the constant threat and reality of disenfranchisement and  violence. Despite these obstacles, my great-grandfather worked his way  through school and graduated from Howard University Law School in 1904.  He understood the importance of being an educated Black man and uplifting as many Black people as possible. However, he encountered another  obstacle—most Black folks could not afford lawyers, and most white folks  would not hire a Black lawyer. So, he began writing as a newspaper columnist in Washington, D.C., covering politics to supplement his income. He  was a fervent supporter of the Party of Lincoln,” the Republican party. He encouraged Blacks to vote straight Republican tickets as a way to combat  disenfranchisement and Jim Crow laws. He often traveled back to West  Virginia to campaign for various Republican candidates. On November 22,  1902, The Colored American wrote:

Mr. James Cubert Campbell…made one of the best speeches of the West Virginia campaign at the final rally at the Court House  (sic) in Charleston. It was a complete and logical presentation of  the issues from a republican standpoint, (sic) and contributed  largely to the success of Congressman (sic) Joseph H. Gaines,  who received a heavy vote at the hands of the colored people of  the Charleston district.``

In the summer of 1908, Campbell returned to his hometown—a trip that  changed the course of his life. One late afternoon in July, he and his  friends, Arthur Jackson and Thomas Nutter, attempted to save a neighborhood boy, Roy James, from drowning. The Advocate reported, “…Jackson,  Nutter, and Campbell plunged [into the Kanawha river], the last named (sic) without disrobing. [Roy’s] body was found…fastened in the mud, which was very deep at that point.” Despite their efforts to resuscitate him, Roy sadly  perished. Moved by the incident, my great-grandfather enrolled in the  Cincinnati College of Embalming in Ohio around 1909. In 1912, he returned  home and opened his undertaking business, The House of Campbell, the  first in Charleston, WV, to be owned by and for Black people.

A traditional African-American funeral is called a Homegoing, which emphasizes dignity for the deceased and celebrates the person's life. Home goings originated in African tradition and still occur today, with pageantry  playing an essential part in the ritual. Silk-lined caskets, ornate floral  arrangements, elaborate programs, and mourners garbed in colorful or  white outfits instead of black characterize homegoings.

To understand the impact of my great-grandfather’s role as an undertaker during his time, particularly within the Black community of Charleston, I  reached out to Dr. Suzanne Smith, author of To Serve the Living: Funeral  Directors and the African-American Way of Death. She explained how a funeral director facilitated the arrangements for a homegoing. Undertakers  acted as grief counselors for the deceased's family, and through this, they  garnered respect, wealth, and a stable business. Being an undertaker also  served as the launching pad for many men into influential positions in politics.

Paradoxically, segregation played an essential part in securing wealth  for Black undertakers due to the guaranteed client base. Throughout the  remainder of 2020, as the death toll of unarmed Black Americans climbed,  my heart broke thinking about the family members who couldn’t have homegoings for their loved ones. A traditional funeral was not possible because of the intense and necessary COVID-19 restrictions.

Another irony for Campbell—his business boomed during the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic, which claimed about 675,000 American lives and 50 million worldwide. My Uncle Bill told me my great-grandfather poured all of his  money back into the business after the 1918 pandemic. Dr. Smith writes:

“…black funeral directors were perhaps the most successful entrepreneurs in America’s segregated economy.”

Based on my family members' descriptions of the House of Campbell, it seemed my great-grandfather did quite well for himself. He constructed a  new funeral home from the ground up, complete with a chapel attached.  According to my Uncle, the funeral homes design drew inspiration from the Parthenon, complete with enormous white columns in front. My great grandfather even commissioned a custom Cadillac ambulance and hearse  to be shipped from Ohio, only adding to his prominence in Charleston.

Campbell drew a lot of attention as a prominent community member,  though not all of it positive. Around the same time, as his business grew  more prosperous, First Baptist Church—one of the first Black churches in  Charleston—kicked him out. He had been moved by the spirit one too  many times during worship—he enjoyed singing and dancing during the  quiet services—and so was asked not to come back. In retaliation, he built  the St. James Episcopal Church. I asked my mom's cousin, Murtala, if “St. James” was a way for my great-grandfather to name the church after himself, to which he replied, '' I wouldn't put it past him.”

In the 1920s, Charleston, West Virginia, existed as a different city than it is  today. People regarded it as a metropolis, similar to Washington, D.C., with  a prime location separating the North and the South; it was a destination for  Southern Blacks during the Great Migration and a stopping point along the  way to cities like Chicago. As a result, several politicians and civic organizers across the country looked to West Virginia as an example for legislation  regarding race.

The Campbell family lived in a neighborhood known as The Block. Bordered by brothels and considered undesirable by the white citizens of  Charleston, Black residents settled into the area. They created businesses,  headquarters for fraternities/secret societies, a public high school, and an  elite hotel. Though they lived in a thriving, prominent neighborhood, residents knew everybody and their business.

Neighborhood kids played in the street, and community events bustled with energy and life. These institutions made Charleston a cultural hub for entertainers and intellectuals.  Everyone from W.E.B. DuBois, a personal friend of my great-grandfathers, to Duke Ellington and Ella Fitzgerald, stopped in Charleston. Throughout  the 1910s-1950s, the Block existed as a lively area for Black enterprise and entertainment.

The author's grandmother, Charlotte Campbell, date unknown; the authors great-aunt, Marjory Campbell, date unknown

In 1922, Campbell married my great-grandmother, Mattie Marie Martin, who  was about 20 years his junior. She was the reason our family calls him  Campbell, though it’s uncertain if she referred to him on a last name basis because of her school teacher background or because she became his  employee once they married. At the funeral home, she became the First Lady.” Her duties involved bathing, doing the hair and makeup, and dressing the corpses. My Uncle Bill recalled my great-grandmother being a very  religious woman, so much so that when funk music came onto the scene,  she thought the name was blasphemous. As the last person to offer the deceased any physical sense of tenderness, I imagine her taking a lot of pride  in her role as First Lady. Each morning, my great-grandfather went over Mattie’s To-Do list for the home and the business while my great-grandmother administered his insulin shots.

Despite the family's outward success, there were problems not everyone saw. As a father, Campbell held high expectations for his children to excel  in school and become independent. For example, he taught my grandmother, Charlotte, and my great-aunt Marjory to drive because he didn’t want them to sit in the back of the bus. As my great-grandparents' marriage went on, my great-grandmother became resentful and felt unacknowledged  for the work she put into the business. Murtala said my great-grandmother  would often lament, everyone always talks about Campbell loud enough for anyone within earshot.

Even as his business thrived, Campbell still held his convictions about advancing Black folks' lives. He sat on several committees that sought to protect and uplift the Black and immigrant communities of Charleston.

These  groups fought for and achieved the desegregation of the public library, the  implementation of an anti-lynching law, the creation of West Virginia's first  Blacks-only 9-hole golf course, and the legislation restricting the showing of D.W. Griffith’s film Birth of a Nation—all before 1935. Campbell's community involvement grew over the years, and by 1931, he became Charleston’s first Black city councilman, a seat he held for 25 years.

While balancing his funeral business and his political career, Campbell  groomed my great-uncle James Jr. to take over the House of Campbell.  However, as racial tensions grew throughout the 1940s, my great-uncle  and his siblings lived in fear of the future. My mom’s cousin, Murtala, said it was difficult for them as educated Black people to be told that they had to  know their place” in society. African-American Historian, Ancella Radford Bickley, writes:

“I think West Virginia has a kind of mixed history. I believe that Blacks were encouraged to move in certain directions, but they  would bump into that invisible wall if they stepped outside of the  things that were supposedly correct.”

Those invisible walls began to close in on the Black community in Charleston. The city’s pivotal role in politics was dismantled and replaced with the agenda of the KKK and white supremacists. Today we can see how successful white supremacists were in pushing forth their agenda; let’s not forget a representative from West Virginia was arrested for the January 6, 2021  insurrection in the U.S. Capitol.

When my great-grandfather died in 1956, the family closed the House of  Campbell after 44 years of service. The funeral home and other prominent  Black-owned businesses on The Block were sold to the state and razed flat  due to redlining and urban renewal projects like an Interstate Highway, similar to other Black cultural centers like Tulsa, OK, and Detroit, MI. My  great-uncle moved his family to Ohio. My great-aunt Marjory followed. My  grandmother Charlotte took her inheritance and built a family home in rural  New Jersey. My great-grandmother Mattie moved in with her beloved  younger brother, John, and his wife, Sarah. She spent her remaining days  as a socialite as the Black high society in Charleston faded away alongside

The author’s family in the parlor of their home, The House of Campbell, date unknown; the author!s family in 1946

During conversations with my family members lucky enough to remember  Campbell, they each came to the same conclusion—he was born at the  wrong time. Although my great-grandfather led a remarkable life, he never  felt like he accomplished enough. Despite his wealth, respect, and prominence in his community, he was frustrated that he could not take his political ambitions beyond his city council seat. He always felt resentment from  the white businessmen in Charleston, whom he knew would not elect him  to a higher office. Despite his tenacity in business, he was oppressed by  Jim Crow laws and the ideology of the time.

With so much Black history lost because of slavery, racism and the white washing of American history, I never knew I had the right to search for my  family history. I didn’t think there would be anything to find. As a young Black girl living in the suburbs of Philadelphia and attending predominantly  white school systems, the Black history I learned was limited to Harriet

Tubman, Martin Luther King Jr., and Rosa Parks. I’ll never forget the in class essay assigned in elementary school about what day-to-day life  would have been like for me pre-Civil War. While my white classmates  worked diligently on the prompt, I wrote through tears that I would have  been a slave. When I got to college, I met someone whose ancestor signed  the Declaration of Independence. I was so envious they knew their ancestors' names beyond their grandparents. Discovering the  rich details of Campbell's life have been profound. I believe his remarkable insight into the power of the press was one of his greatest assets. His intimate relationship with the media allowed his story to be preserved and now  passed down through our family. On March 21, 1907, my great-grandfather  wrote in The Advocate:

“The people, those who own the press, have the arms that rock the universe. And it is such cogent arms as these that the colored  people in this country, today, need and need badly. In other  words, these people are sadly in need of newspapers to create  public sentiment in their favor and to fight adverse sentiment  which is submerging them beneath a relentless contempt and  merciless caste hatred.”

Samatha StephensActress & writer based in Los Angeles, CAContact: @samanthasnapped on Instagram

When my great-grandfather died in 1956, the family closed the House of  Campbell after 44 years of service. The funeral home and other prominent  Black-owned businesses on The Block were sold to the state and razed flat  due to redlining and urban renewal projects like an Interstate Highway, similar to other Black cultural centers like Tulsa, OK, and Detroit, MI. My  great-uncle moved his family to Ohio. My great-aunt Marjory followed. My  grandmother Charlotte took her inheritance and built a family home in rural  New Jersey. My great-grandmother Mattie moved in with her beloved  younger brother, John, and his wife, Sarah. She spent her remaining days  as a socialite as the Black high society in Charleston faded away alongside decades of hard work and Black history, the exact opposite outcome my  great-grandfather had centered his life around.

With so much Black history lost because of slavery, racism and the white washing of American history, I never knew I had the right to search for my  family history. I didn’t think there would be anything to find. As a young Black girl living in the suburbs of Philadelphia and attending predominantly  white school systems, the Black history I learned was limited to Harriet Tubman, Martin Luther King Jr., and Rosa Parks. I’ll never forget the in class essay assigned in elementary school about what day-to-day life  would have been like for me pre-Civil War. While my white classmates  worked diligently on the prompt, I wrote through tears that I would have  been a slave. When I got to college, I met someone whose ancestor signed  the Declaration of Independence. I was so envious they knew their ancestors' names beyond their grandparents. Discovering the  rich details of Campbell's life have been profound. I believe his remarkable insight into the power of the press was one of his greatest assets. His intimate relationship with the media allowed his story to be preserved and now  passed down through our family. On March 21, 1907, my great-grandfather  wrote in The Advocate:

Samatha Stephens is an actress & writer based in Los Angeles, CAContact: @samanthasnapped on Instagram

✊🏾Huntington, West Virginia - Word, Knowledge, and Rhyme will light up our Black. History in a multi-level, intergenerational, mixed-genre event. 5 Scholars, 2 podcast hosts, and 6 Hip-hop MCs siphon an element of history through a podcast conversation (the Biz), then lecture expands the facts (scholars), and then Hip-hop MCs (rappers) spit original rhymes on the same topic. Think... Podcast meets Ted Talk meets Coachella. Event Date: Saturday, November 6, 2021 - Showtime: 3-5 p.m.

The G.I.F.T. Project stop the violence block party, November 4, 2021, Glenwood Avenue, Charleston‘s West Side, 4 PM to 7 PM.  For a table contact

- West Virginia CROWN Coalition Meeting Fridays at 4 PM.   The Crown Act stands for “Creating a Respectful and Open World for Natural Hair.”  For more information text “info” to 304-896-9534.  Join Zoom Meeting

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/85649537534?pwd=Zmt0Wm5KcUNzNG9qa0IzSjlKYWNQZz09

🎙 Online - Our Voices, Weekly podcast forum to discuss issues impacting the African-American community and allies.  This week former WV Secretary of State Natalie Tenant

https://www.facebook.com/1114402184/posts/10221043632336529/

☕️ Online - WV Women’s Commission Talk & Tea monthly episode launched November 5, 2021,   Featured guest speaker Crystal Allen, Director of the WV Families of Convicted Peoples.  Like the page

🧪 Rand - PAAC Covid-19 Surge Testing Team drive-thru Testing, Vaccination & Booster Clinic on November 3

10- 2pm at Levi First Missionary Baptist Church located at 5125 Church Drive.   For more information visit

or call 304-741-7157. Visit the PAAC Covid-19 Surge Team on Facebook and Instagram @PAAC.Surge for updates.

Community Events week of Nov. 2, 2021

Word, Knowledge, and Rhyme will light up our Black. History in a multi-level, intergenerational, mixed-genre event. 5 Scholars, 2 podcast hosts, and 6 Hip-hop MCs siphon an element of history through a podcast conversation (the Biz), then lecture expands the facts (scholars), and then Hip-hop MCs (rappers) spit original rhymes on the same topic.

Think... Podcast meets Ted Talk meets Coachella.

Event Date: Saturday, November 6, 2021 - Showtime: 3-5 p.m.

Welcome to BBG’s new website! We love this picture by Leeshia Lee from the

event in Huntington on Nov. 6, 2021. The event embodied community, creativity and scholarship - all the things BBG aspires in.

Stay tuned for our print edition with a feature on

with us as we are still under web-construction. We are always open to your edits and suggestions!

Welcome to BBG’s New Website

Black By God The West Virginian's New Website - November 2021 

Welcome to BBG’s new website

Welcome to BBG’s new website! We are still under construction and excited to expand our content and engagement. We are open to your edits, suggestions! Please contact:

Welcome to BBG’s new website! We love this picture by Leeshia Lee from the Word On The Block event in Huntington on Nov. 6, 2021. Read HERE. But stay tuned for our print edition with a feature on WORD ON THE BLOCK! . Please be patient twoit us as we are still under web- construction. We are always open to your edits, suggestions!  Please contact:

event in Huntington on Nov. 6, 2021. This event embodies community, creativity and scholarship - all the things BBG aspires in. Stay tuned for our print edition with a feature on

And, please be patient with us as we are still under web-construction. We are always open to your edits and suggestions!

The event embodied community, creativity and scholarship - all the things BBG aspires in. Stay tuned for our print edition with a feature on

You didn’t ask for this and yet, it is yours to carry.

The future is just the next breath we have yet to take.

Survivor’s Guilt by Julia Mallory is a monumental meditation on grief and the aftermath of loss. Born from the author’s lived experience with personal tragedy – her 17-year-old son Julian was killed in 2017, three weeks after his birthday.  Survivor’s Guilt wrestles with the curious reality that parenting while Black has never been a neutral existence.

Grief is universal and still an emotional experience that too few feel they can afford to participate in. Who gets to grieve and for how long? What do we do when people defy our expectations around what they should do with their feelings?

While we may know more about trauma than ever before, what is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) to many communities where the trauma is not “post” but instead perpetual and persistent. How does our online connectivity affect our grief? And what do we do with our collective grief?

Survivor’s Guilt by Julia Mallory is a monumental meditation on grief and the aftermath of loss.

After Julian: Who Will Revere Empathetic Black Boys

Black By God is exploring West Virginia Hip Hop through curator Byron Holmes

— sharing the cultural past, present and future in the series

As an educator, lecturer, entertainer, promoter and activist in the greater Indianapolis area,

interest is to first and foremost emphasize equity and exposure among underserved communities.

Born and raised in Huntington, where he attended Huntington High School as well as Marshall University, Holmes worked in Marshall’s Center for African American Student’s Office while studying journalism and mass communication. He is the founder and chief executive of The Phresh Collective, a company that specializes in mixed-media, marketing and brand management for small businesses, non-profit organizations and artists.

 From Black Appalachian music to protests on Capitol Hill, the voices of resistance are ever-intensifying. 

Join Our Folk Reporters Program

Advertise with BLACK BY GOD | The West Virginian

Sign up for our newsletter

More in Community from Black by God

Phat Daddy's BBG Story Submission

The House of Campbell- Rebuilding My Family's History and the Significance of Black Death, Wealth, and Discovery

Community Events week of Nov. 2, 2021

Welcome to BBG’s New Website

After Julian: Who Will Revere Empathetic Black Boys

Blair Mountain On The One

100 Years of Black West Virginia Youth Writing

CONGRATULATIONS SISTER ROMELIA PARKS