Day 13: What's in a Neighborhood? - Tinbridge Hill
"Return and take from the past that which may have been forgotten but which will be of use today and in the future."
Local residents of Lynchburg’s Tinbridge Hill called it “The Forgotten Hill.” In the years following the Civil War, many Black Americans moved out of rural communities and resettled into cities, looking for employment and opportunity. Domestic and factory workers in Lynchburg sought out property. Many established homes near the William B. Lynch farm1 just outside the city, between 5th Street and Blackwater Creek to the west.
The city incorporated the area in 1870, and by 1887, Black people made up 75 percent of the neighborhood's population, growing to 80 percent by the 1920’s. Meanwhile, Lynchburg's overall Black population was shrinking rapidly, from fifty percent down to thirty,2 as many migrated to northern cities, looking for better life elsewhere.
Tinbridge Hill’s Black population grew while the city’s overall black population shrank; the white and Black population of Lynchburg was segregating.3
For most of the twentieth century, the residents of Tinbridge Hill, "despite their poverty relative to the rest of Lynchburg, enjoyed a rich, vibrant local culture." It was a "close-knit" and "family place."4
In the early twentieth century, segregation and discrimination forced Lynchburg’s Black citizens, similar to those in the nation at large, to build their own institutions. Tinbridge Hill had shops, schools, a hospital for employment, and a community that looked out for each other. The original Midget Market was one of many “mom and pop” stores in Tinbridge Hill in the 30's, 40's, and 50's.
A few weeks ago, I asked a community of Tinbridge ladies (who call themselves the “Hens of Tinbridge”) what needed to be remembered about Tinbridge? They unanimously answered, the Yoder Elementary School and Miss Sallie Frank Anderson.
Beatrice Hunter, a child of Tinbridge and the author of the Tinbridge memoir featured above (and highlighted later), runs a mosaic-like Facebook group, It Takes a Village, teaching Black history, culture, and current events of the city. On her page, she informs us about Yoder Elementary and Miss Anderson,
“Yoder Elementary School, 201 Jackson St. Built in 1910, torn down in 1977 . . . Yoder was named after a Mennonite teacher Jacob Yoder, sent to the South to teach the freed Negros by the Freedmen Bureau of Philadelphia. . . . He dedicated his livelihood, life, and all he had to make sure Blacks in Lynchburg were given an education” (full post in footnotes5).
Hunter also shares,
“It is a consensus from all today that remembers, Miss Sallie Frank Anderson, was by far the most dedicated and beloved teacher at Yoder Elementary. . . . She was a lifelong member of the Tinbridge Hill neighborhood of Lynchburg. . . . We thank her for her sacrifices and service” (more of Hunter’s remarks on Miss Anderson in footnotes).6
Despite the strength of its people, twentieth century racist lending practices (See “Further Reading” below), white flight, and a shrinking city economy all contributed to the decline of Tinbridge. A recent neighborhood sustainability report states that “Over the years, the environment began to change. More houses became rental property and fewer houses were owner occupied. By the late 1980’s the area was plagued with substandard housing, drugs, and violence. The streets were no longer safe, and the traditional neighborhood atmosphere was a thing of the past.”7
But I see the beauty of the Tinbridge Hill neighborhood and celebrate the local investments made by the city and community. The Blue Ridge Mountains peek just over the hill as you descend from 4th Street toward Black Bottom. New sidewalks have been built. This year, the city revitalized a pathway from the neighborhood to the city's walk/bike trail system. For every boarded-up home, you find a well-kept home, showing that residents still take pride in their space.
“You can tell, if you walk the area, we have made a difference and we continue to make a difference.”
- Audrey Barbour “Chubb”, Tinbridge’s life-long local community activist, who passed away this spring.
There are other significant cultural artifacts in the Tinbridge Hill neighborhood. Today's Johnson Health Center on Tinbridge's Federal Street is named after the Black doctor who trained Arthur Ashe, the famous tennis player from Richmond who broke the color barrier in tennis and won a grand slam. The neighborhood also includes The Legacy Museum, “one of several acts to reclaim the vitality of the African American experience in Lynchburg.”8
A key piece of symbolism is the logo for the museum, a depiction of the African symbol of the Sankofa bird. This symbol means, 'return and take from the past that which may have been forgotten but which will be of use today and in the future.'”
What will become of Tinbridge Hill? Time will tell. The “Hens” I met with lamented that homes continue to turn into rentals, children are moving away or lack a communal purpose. But I hope, as in the symbol of the Sankofa bird, that remembering our past will encourage us to build a better future for this generation, and the next, in Tinbridge Hill and beyond.
Further Reading:
Two recent publications illustrate the tension between the vitality of Tinbridge Hill and the damage imposed by twentieth century racist real estate lending practices. The mixed paragraphs below from Beatrice Hunter’s memoir9 (bold text) and Dr. John Abell’s economic analysis of redlining in Lynchburg10 (indented) work in symbiotic collage to show the detrimental effects of redlining.
HUNTER: If you have never heard of Tinbridge Hill, I wouldn’t be surprised. Maps of the Seven Hills don’t mention this area.
ABELL: [After the Great Depression], In order to establish the stability of existing neighborhoods, Home Owners Loan Corporation (HOLC), and later Federal Housing Authority, (FHA), employed local real estate agents to conduct appraisals all across the country regarding the desirability and value of neighborhoods.
As in most [communities] of this kind, blacks were united. Out of that unity developed a sense of ownership and pride in their neighborhoods. Fraternal organizations and black businesses cared for their own, extending credit to those who could promise payment.
However, many of those real estate agents were members of the National Association of Real Estate Boards (NAREB) which in 1924 had adopted a code of ethics that stated: “a realtor should never be instrumental in introducing into a neighborhood . . . members of any race or nationality . . . whose presence will clearly be detrimental to property values in that neighborhood.”
These are the people and memories I cherish. Memories of a time when the village raised the children, a time when no one thought themselves better than the other, and no one had it better. These were the times and this was the place where every child had more than one or two parents, because the village of Black Bottom cared for its own.
[HOLC created] color-coded security maps of every metropolitan area in the country. Neighborhoods receiving the highest grade of "A"—colored green on the maps—were rated to be the “best” and deemed to be minimal risks regarding future lending. Those receiving the lowest grade of "D," colored red, were considered "hazardous," with future loan possibilities either limited or none. A significant presence of Negroes in a neighborhood guaranteed this outcome . . . [Black Bottom and Tinbridge Hill were in the lowest grade “D” areas, colored red on the maps.]
Economic deprivation gave way to illegal activities, including bootlegging, as people did whatever they could to make a living. Some ran “penny numbers,” a way of betting on another state’s lottery. One cent could earn you four dollars.
There was an “Inhabitants” section where HOLC was interested . . . “Foreign-born” inhabitants (and their nationality), whether there were “Negroes” (Yes or No, and the specific percent), whether there was “Infiltration” . . . [The FHA] created a parallel set of security maps that were heavily influenced by HOLC’s maps . . . the FHA’s appraisal standards included a “whites-only requirement,” thus making racial segregation an “official requirement of the federal mortgage insurance program.” The implications of the FHA’s policies were to institutionalize segregation in America’s housing and neighborhoods.
Black Bottom existed in the time of Jim Crow. Even in Black Bottom, restaurants practiced segregation. One such establishment was on Federal Street and was called Tip Top’s. Sure, African Americans could buy from the place. They just had to order from the outside window. Silent stares from the proprietors warned us that blacks weren’t wanted there.
. . . Blacks living in those redlined neighborhoods were essentially stuck in communities where they couldn’t obtain loans to buy or improve their homes, thus resulting in a deteriorating housing stock. They weren’t welcome in the newly expanding suburbs because of racially restrictive covenants that prohibited the sale of a home to anyone other than persons of Caucasian descent.
Along Jackson Street, rented apartments in rowhouses lined one side, contrasting with privately-owned homes just across the street.
You could stand on the corner of Fourth and Jackson, and hear the area crying out for recognition, while at the same time hoping to remain forgotten by the powers that be in city government.
That the racist policies (both de facto and de jure) of the 1930s and 1940s deprived minorities of equal access to housing and the wealth building associated with homeownership is well documented.
Listen on a Sunday night, and the sounds of the tambourines and shouting echoed from the Holiness Church on the corner of Third and Jackson, bouncing off the invisible borders of despair called Black Bottom
It has been 85 years since the Home Owner’s Loan Corporation (HOLC) created
Lynchburg’s security map with its risk-graded neighborhoods. One might assume that the passage of that amount of time would be sufficient for the detrimental effects of the redlining associated with that map to have passed. The statistical results in this analysis using assessed property values from the City Assessor’s Office, however, suggest that those neighborhoods that were redlined back in 1937 still struggle with property values ($52,800 median assessed value) that are far lower (approximately $100,000) than those neighborhoods that received the highest grades (the A and B-graded neighborhoods).
I encourage you to read Hunter’s complete memoir here. Dr Abel’s article provides an academic review of redlining with in-depth research, maps, and statistical analysis (for those inclined) of its effects in Lynchburg.
Questions or feedback? We’d love to hear from you. Email bridgeoflament@gmail.com.
Son of Lynchburg founder John Lynch, for whom the John Lynch Memorial Bridge is named after (see Building a Bridge of Lament).
Laurant, Durant. A City Unto Itself, Lynchburg Virginia in the 20th Century. Darrell Laurant and the News & Advance, 1997, pg. 87.
Recall the statement in yesterday's post: “As soon as we continually segregate by any means, we have an issue.”
‘Remembering Tinbridge Hill, in Lynchburg, Virginia 1920-1970’, The Southern Memorial Association, Blackwell Press, 2011
Beatrice continues: “[Joseph Yoder] initially had no building to teach Negros in and taught under trees, in rented basements, anywhere and everywhere he could. Eventually Jacob Yoder became Superintendent of Schools in Lynchburg. He dedicated his livelihood, life, and all he had to make sure Blacks in Lynchburg were given an education. Upon his death, two funerals were held in Lynchburg for this man, one at a white church where his body lay, and another at the black church. He became loved by all blacks, and many whites. After he died, the city named this new school in his honor. Today, a historical marker marks the spot where Yoder Elementary used to be, and the Yoder Community Center / Aubrey Barbour Center is on the grounds.”
Hunter: “Miss Anderson was born on October 09, 1904, a year before the death of Jacob Yoder, the man for whom her beloved school was named. She was a lifelong member of the Tinbridge Hill neighborhood of Lynchburg, having been born, lived and died at 1113 Hollins St.. She was one of three children of William and Lillie J. Anderson. Miss Anderson was herself a former student of Yoder, and after completing her higher education, graduating from Lynchburg's Negro High School which was than Jackson Street High, and also the Virginia Seminary and College here, she received her BA degree from Hampton Institute. Miss Anderson then returned to her community and taught her first class at Yoder School in 1926. Miss Anderson passed on October 22, 1986 at 82 years old. She now rests in eternal peace, in a family plot on Monroe St. not far from her home on earth. We thank her for her sacrifices and service.”
“Growing Tinbridge Hill. A Sustainable Neighborhood Plan for Tinbridge Hill," prepared for the Tinbridge Hill Neighborhood and the City of Lynchburg in 2014
“Memories, Fond and Painful, of Black Bottom” Ms. Hunter grew up in Black Bottom, a neighborhood pocket of Tinbridge Hill.
“Redlining in Lynchburg: Lingering Effects on Home Valuations,” a 2022 article by Dr. John Abell, Professor of Economics at Randolph College. Dr. Abell explains the history of redlining and analyzes its meaning in Lynchburg. This is his latest publication over a decade of research and writing on the topic.