July 2001 Emails from Sara Lee Creech's Great Niece

After searching through my Saralee doll archives, I found email communication that took place in July 2001 between Norwood Creech Watkins and myself.  Ms. Watkins is the great niece of Sara Lee Creech, the woman who created the Saralee doll, manufactured by Ideal Toy Corporation from 1951-1953.  I decided to post the text of the emails here for my easy access as well as to share with others who enjoy reading doll stories.

Email 1, received on July 21, 2001:

I am always keeping my eyes open for a doll Ideal made called the Sara

Lee Doll. My great aunt originated it, Sara Lee Creech in Florida. Do

you [know] of any available for sale?

My great aunt, Sara Lee Creech, of Lake Worth, Florida, still has the

original, plus all the letters and correspondence from creating this doll.

Such an interesting story of how she came to create it. I would greatly

appreciate you thinking of me should you see one become available.

Thank you,

Norwood Creech Watkins

_____

My Reply  (probably sent the same day):

Hello,

In 1994, after having been a collector of vintage-to-modern black dolls for

three years, I purchased  Collector's Guide to Ideal Dolls.  When I saw the

picture of the Saralee doll and read the story of how the doll was molded

after the likeness of a real black child, my mouth watered.  I knew I had to

own one, and my mad search for a Saralee "Negro" doll was on!

I was already a subscriber to two monthly-circulated collectors'

publications.  Each month I combed the new editions in search for a for-sale-

ad for a Saralee doll.  Finally, after searching for over two years, and after

having purchased several other black dolls in the interim, an ad for a

Saralee doll appeared in one of the fall issues of Collector's United.  I

ran to the telephone and hurriedly dialed the number listed in the ad.  I

held my breath while the telephone rang, waiting for an answer.  Nervously, I

stated/asked, "I'm calling about an ad in Collector's United.  Do you still

have the Saralee doll for sale?"  Again, I held my breath, anxiously awaiting

the seller's answer, hoping that her answer would be “yes.”

I still remember the seller's name -- Diane Carpino.  Ms. Carpino answered,

"Yes, I still have her.  She's wearing her original tagged dress, her

original socks and shoes, and a replica of her original bonnet."  I asked

about her overall condition, specifically, if there were any flaws.  Ms.

Carpino answered, "She has some minor head rubs, but other than that, she is

in very good condition."  I let her know that I wanted to purchase the

doll and asked her how much I should add for shipping/insurance.  I did not

hesitate to write the check for $180 plus shipping/insurance, which was

mailed to the seller's New Jersey address the very next morning.

Some 10 days later (Ms. Carpino allowed my check to clear before shipping), I

gazed upon what I felt was the most precious black doll with the most supple

vinyl head and limbs that I had ever seen.

Although my owning Saralee was delayed by some 40 years (I was born [four]

years after the doll hit the market), I was pleased to finally have her in my

possession.  Today she graces my bedroom with her precious beauty.

I would like for you to thank your great aunt for creating such a lovely

doll.

Debbie

_____

Scan from the book, Zora Neal Hurston's Final Decade by Virginia Lynn Moylan (University Press of Florida, 2011)

Email 2:  Norwood Creech Watkins replied on July 25, 2001:

Dearest Debbie,

I was so touched by your letter. I called Sara and read it to her over the phone.

It so happens that just last week she came home from the hospital after

having something equivalent to a very minor stroke. The love you expressed so

well for the doll touched her heart and of course could not be more timely.

She is surprised and inspired by the continuing interest in the doll. Recently a

teacher from Miami xeroxed all of Sara's notes, pictures and letters from the

doll's developmental days, including her correspondence with Mrs. Roosevelt, who

was a great benefactor in the doll's creation. This teacher is creating an

educational program inspired by the doll.

If you will give me your address, I will send you a copy of an essay by Gordon

Patterson from "Florida Pathfinders." It provides some insight to Sara's life and

history about the process of developing the Sara Lee doll. (The handwritten

corrections are Sara's.) I have also requested from her the teacher's name and

address, so perhaps I can get her information to you for an enhancement to your

collection, as well.

Sara is an incredible person with tremendous heart and intelligence. Such souls

are rare. Thank you for writing and allowing me the opportunity to bring her some

happiness this Monday morning.

Gratefully yours,

Norwood Creech Watkins

PS

Should you wonder how we are related... Sara Lee Creech Smith is the sister of my paternal grandfather, William Briggs Creech.

[A link to an online Norwood family genealogy was provided, which is now broken.]

_____

Essay from the book, Florida Pathfinders, "Sara Lee Creech:  Working for Racial Sensitivity" 
(Click or tap to enlarge.)

Ms. Watkins did send me a copy of the Florida Pathfinders essay written about her great aunt, Sara Lee Creech.  A scan of the first page is shown above.   As she indicated, there are notations/corrections written throughout by Ms. Creech.   

My communication with Ms. Watkins ended, probably with my reply to the above email thanking her in advance for offering to send the article and of course I am sure I acknowledged receipt after it arrived.  I would like to locate a copy of the teacher’s compilation of the notes Ms. Creech maintained throughout the doll’s creation.  Perhaps I will write the return address Ms. Watkins used to inquire or send another email to the AOL email address Ms. Watkins used to write me.

Responsible for the first mass-produced, anthropologically correct black doll, Ms. Sara Lee Creech passed away in September 2008. Read more about this remarkable trailblazer here. 

Read more about the Saralee doll, which was on the market in time for Christmas 1951 in my previous post.


dbg
Thank you for reading. Was this post helpful?
Follow my sister blog Ebony-Essence of Dolls in Black
View the Doll Events page for updates. Check out my eBay listings here.

Ernesto Finds His Niche...

... or I found it for him. 

After redressing Ernesto in Ken Fashionistas fashion* of blue sweater, gray corduroy pants, and blue mock lace-up shoes, I attempted to find a female companion that did not tower too much over his handsome head.  Halle, the shortest of my fashion dolls now that her head is on an Alexis (LIV) body, was my first choice.  She is slightly taller than Ernesto, and her summery PopLife Christie fashion clashes with Ernesto's winter clothes. 

Short dolls... short dolls, who can I use (I wondered)?  My answer:  Calista (the 9-1/2-inch version).

Using Calista as Ernesto's niece was my initial idea, but the following story developed after seeing the two together. (Isn't it strange how dolls seem to create their own stories and use their owners as their facilitators to tell them?)

~*~*~*~*~

For the past several weeks in the math class he teaches at the local middle school, Mr. Gutierrez noticed Calista's normally bubbly personality had changed to quite sullen and withdrawn.  Her classroom participation had decreased and her grades had also fallen.  Formerly an A-student, Calista's average had plummeted to a C. 

Because he knew her academic potential was high, Mr. Gutierrez was determined to get to the bottom of Calista's problem.  The Friday before their Christmas break began, he asked Calista if he could speak with her after class.  Their conversation follows:

Mr. Gutierrez:  Calista, your grades have dropped tremendously and your participation in class has also declined.  Are you having problems that I or one of the female teachers or counselors can help you address? 


Calista:  Well, um, yes, I am.  Briana Joy hates me! (she blurted out)


Mr. Gutierrez:  Hates you?  Why do you think that?

Calista:  She and I were the best of friends.  We did everything together.  She was the person I could always count on to be there for me to talk to if I had a problem, and I have always been there for her.  But that has changed now.


Mr. Gutierrez:  Oh really?  How so?

Calista:  She doesn't want to have anything to do with me any more since...

Mr. Gutierrez (after waiting for Calista to continue):  Since what, Calisa?  What caused Briana Joy's attitude toward you to change?

Calista:  Well, you know we entered the America's Next Top Teen Doll Model competition together and were the two finalists.  I didn't even want to enter the competition.  It was her idea that we enter it together.  But after the competition ended, she stopped speaking to me. 

Mr. Gutierrez:  This seems like a relatively easy problem to solve.  Perhaps I can schedule a meeting with the three of us later today and see if I can help you work this out.

(Calista's disposition brightened.  She looked forward to rekindling her friendship with her former best friend and hoped Mr. Gutierrez could make this happen.)

Calista:  Really, Mr. Gutierrez?  I sure hope you can help me.  It's horrible to be treated like an outcast.  Briana Joy and her new friends stop talking when I enter the room.  They roll their eyes at me when I pass by.  I have felt so awful because I didn't do anything to deserve this.

Mr. Gutierrez:  Yes, I will be happy to help you work this out.  We'll get this resolved before Christmas break begins.  I wouldn't want you to spend the holiday upset, but most importantly, I want you to resume your interest in math and your other courses.  I'm sure your grades are probably suffering in your other classes, too.


Calista:  Yes, they are. 


Mr. Gutierrez:  All right then.  I'm sure we can work this out.

~*~*~*~*~

To learn what put a wedge between Briana Joy and Calista's friendship, click here.  Then read the final passage below.  (Stop scrolling... click the link before you read the rest.)

~*~*~*~*~

Later that same day, during the meeting between Mr. Gutierrez and the two girls, he allowed the girls to talk it out.  Calista discovered that Briana Joy thought Calista's attitude toward her was going to change because she won the ANTTDM competition. 

Briana Joy explained, "After you won, I thought you were going to think you were all that.  So I decided not to speak to you any more to avoid getting my feelings hurt by you.  Briana Joy confided that some of the other girls at school had encouraged her to think that way.  She now realizes they had always been jealous of her friendship with Calista and also envious of Calista's ANTTDM title. 

Briana Joy apologized for assuming Calista's attitude toward her was going to change, for being so mean to her, and for allowing the other girls to influence her thinking.  She also admitted that she had been miserable without her friendship.  Hers was the only true friendship she had ever known. 

Calista readily accepted her friend's apology.

After the meeting, the two girls vowed to resume their friendship and not allow anything to ever come between them again. 

~*~*~*~*~

Mr. Ernesto Gutierrez, much more than a handsome male specimen, is happy he was instrumental in helping the girls resolve their differences.  He encouraged them to talk to one another first if they had problems in the future or ask an adult to help. 

Ernesto realizes how important it is for children to have someone in authority they can trust and in whom they can confide.  He wishes more educators, parents, and adults, in general, would remain alert to problems children face and intervene swiftly to help prevent minor crises from escalating into major ones.

*Ernesto and I realize the Ken Fashionistas sweater and pants are a little snug.  We also wanted readers to know the pants do not close completely in the back, but the hem of the sweater covers that flaw.  The shoes do fit well.
dbg

Follow my Dolls for Sale blog

The Promise: A Vietnam Soldier's Story

In 1969, one of three brothers, received a letter from the Selective Service informing him he had been drafted into the United Stated Army.  His immediate trepidation was followed by a sense of calm after hearing a soft still voice that reassured he would be okay.  The voice further assured that of the three brothers, he, at age 19, was chosen because one brother was too young and the oldest brother was too easily influenced by worldly vices.
 
The young man went through basic training at Fort Polk, Louisiana and completed advanced individual training at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, along with another young soldier whose name was Briggs. They both traveled by air with a group of other privates to Anchorage, Alaska and from there to Saigon, Vietnam. During the flight, the 19-year-old  prayed the plane would crash, opting for an immediate and less painful death than one he imagined might occur in  the war zone he was about to enter. Due to a brief lapse in faith and uncertainty of what would lie ahead, he had forgotten what the soft still voice had assured him... that he would be all right.

At the Saigon airport, the young soldiers took seats on bleachers to await instructions on where they would be located in the field. As the others took lower seats, the 19-year-old continued alone to an unoccupied top row seat.

Once seated, the young solider turned his head and looked to one side; no one was there.

He turned his head in the opposite direction; no one was there.

Once again, he turned his head and there sat a grubby white solider who appeared to have been right out of a war zone.   His uniform was muddy and torn in places, but he was not visibly injured.   The 19-year-old (19-y/o) and the war-zone-looking solider (WZLS) exchanged a couple of, "Hey brothers." The rest of their brief encounter and the events that transpired immediately afterward are detailed below.

WZLS: What branch of service are you in?
19-y/o: Army. 
WZLS: What do you do?
19-y/o:  I'm in Artillery.
WZLS: That's good because wherever you go, we go. Infantry [foot soldiers] always goes with you. They [Vietcong] have to go through us before they get to you.
WZLS: Do you believe in God?
19-y/o: (After doing a double-take) Yes.
WZLS: That's good, because if you don't, you will before you leave here.
19-y/o: (Silence).
WZLS continued: Brother, I'm going to tell you something. You have to make sure you do it.
19-y/o: All right.
WZLS: You promise me you're going to do it?
19-y/o: Yeah-yeah, I'm going to do it.
WZLS: Now when you go out in the field, your First Sergeant is going to ask you if you know how to drive. Tell him, "No," because when you go up and down that road, you're being shot at going and coming... every day. Tell him you don't know how to drive.
19-y/o: Thanks, Man. I'll be sure to tell him I can't drive.

Once again the 19-year-old turned his head for a split second. After turning it back, the war zone-looking soldier was gone without a possible logical explanation of how he vanished from the top of the bleachers so quickly.  A sense of calm enveloped the 19-year-old.

After exiting the bleachers, the 19-year-old and the other soldiers received their orders to go to their field location.  In the field, the First Sergeant, a tall black man, greeted the young men and told them to relax.  The towering First Sergeant proceeded to deliver an unnerving speech to the soldiers.

Matter-of-factly, the First Sergeant said, “Some of ya’ll will make it out; some of you won’t.” Next, he callously described what might happen to them. “Some of you will get limbs blown off; some of you will get shot; some of you will die.” Immediately after, he asked, “By the way, does anyone here drive?”  After no one volunteered, the First Sergeant said, “The reason why I asked is because I need someone to stay back here and drive for me, back here where it’s safe.”

Several volunteering hands shot up in the air, including Briggs. Then the 19-year-old told Briggs about his encounter with the WZLS, but Briggs volunteered as a driver anyway. Holding on to his promise, the 19-year-old did not volunteer.

Realizing the 19-year-old  did not raise his hand, the First Sergeant asked, “Do you drive?”
The young man answered, “No, First Sergeant.”
The First Sergeant asked the young solider his age, to which he replied, “19.”
“And you don’t drive?” the First Sergeant questioned.
“No, First Sergeant,” the 19-year-old insisted.
Puzzled, the First Sergeant asked, “Where are you from?”
“Dallas, Texas,” the 19-year-old answered.
“Oh, the place that likes to kill presidents,” said the First Sergeant.
“You sure you don’t drive?”  he asked again.
“Yes, I’m sure, First Sergeant.”
Finally, the First Sergeant left the young soldier alone.

The young Artillery solider was sent out in the field, where it was actually safer than being in the back as a driver. Briggs remained in the back to drive trucks loaded with supplies that the soldiers needed, but was never assigned to drive for the First Sergeant.

The 19-year old completed his tour of duty and returned home a year later. He does not know what happened to Briggs because they lost contact with one another.

That young 19-year-old was one of my mother's three sons.   In essence, my middle brother kept his promise not to volunteer to drive.  Most importantly, God's promise and reassurance, sent in the form of the war zone-looking soldier, literally saved my brother's life.

My oldest brother was drafted as well.  He was stationed in Germany and never served in Vietnam because the middle brother was already there.  The youngest of my three brothers was never drafted.

dbg

Follow my Dolls for Sale blog