I’m re-upping this post, originally published on 30 September 2015, because friends of William and Marie Graves have opened a GoFundMe account to raise a a stone over their graves in Oakland. Remembering how Marie contributed a dollar here and 15 cents there to the charitable funds of the Relief Society, perhaps you would like to honor her and her husband with your own donation to keep their names and lives in remembrance.

The memory of a story told long, long ago suggests that William Graves met the missionaries when he happened to drop by a street meeting being held in Oakland, California. We don’t know what appealed to William that day, or how he introduced his fiancee, Marie Benjamin, to the Church, but we do know that when William and Marie were married (a second marriage for both) in 1909, the officiator was a Latter-day Saint missionary, and one of the witnesses was that elder’s companion. Further evidence of the Graves’ apparently warm relationship with the missionaries is that the couple were not then members of the Church – their baptisms would not occur until two years later, in November 1911.

From the beginning, the couple participated actively in the Oakland branch. Two months after his baptism, William stood to bear his testimony in fast meeting. Two months after that, both William and Marie bore testimony. From then on, one or the other, or both, participated every month or two: “Sis Graves spoke of the Lord’s goodness to her, and enjoys the gospel more and more each day…” “Sister Graves .. bore [her] testimony to the truthfulness of the Gospel and the many blessings which [she] had received …”

Sometimes Marie requested that the congregation sing a hymn – “Guide Us, O, Thou Great Jehovah” was the first – to help her express her testimony. And from time to time, William spoke for the congregation when he was called on to close a meeting with prayer. The couple was fully involved in the life of their branch.

In 1920, William and Marie had an opportunity to travel to Atlanta, Georgia, for a visit – Marie (who was from Alabama) and William (a native of North Carolina) apparently had lived in Atlanta, because they had friends there. Marie later reported, “I had some friends I wanted to take to church [in Atlanta], because I did not know when I would have that opportunity.

“We found the right church, all right, but found the wrong people.”

When Marie and her friends, both women, entered the LDS chapel in Atlanta, they took seats in the back. When someone spoke to them, Marie told him that she was a member of the Church in Oakland. But “it seems like I had gone into a den of evil spirits, so bad was the feelings against us, because we was colored.”

The conference president (the missionary directing work in that area, equivalent to a stake president) asked Marie and her friends to step outside. “He told us of the line being between the colored and the white people, and [the] antagonist feeling among them, and the church being dedicated by the white people of the South. When he finished we said goodbye and left. We knew that meant for us to stay out of there.”

Marie was devastated. “I never had nothing to hurt me like that in all of my life. Had I known we would have been treated like that, I never would have tried to have gone to church there. I felt so much worse by my friends being with me, and seeing how mean they acted.”

The husband of one of her friends arrived a little late, and the women quickly decided not to tell him what had happened, but only that they had decided to go to another church. And all three “decided not to tell our husbands. We did not need any more company feeling bad with us.”

“After I was treated like this, I could not leave the South fast enough. I thought the Gospel was free for anyone that wanted to hear it. I did not know that it was like that down there.”

Regardless of this treatment, though, Marie could say “I have a testimony of the gospel just the same. The Lord has blessed me wonderfully, and I thank him for it.”

Marie meant it. Her testimony withstood her rejection in Atlanta. She and William returned to Oakland, and the record shows that they went on steadily bearing testimony and participating in their branch. Marie, a dressmaker with her own income, contributed regularly and generously to the charitable funds of the Relief Society – 96 years ago today, she donated $1.00 to the Relief Society, when the record shows that most others who donated that month gave only 25 cents each. Other times she couldn’t be quite so generous, but her contributions were steady: 25 cents one month, 10 cents the next, 15 cents the month after that. In 1921, shortly after her return from the South, Marie taught a lesson on health to the sisters of the Oakland Relief Society. Branch records don’t tell us nearly as much as we’d like to know, but what they do tell us is that both Marie and William did not let the Atlanta experience weaken their faith and commitment.

Marie remained faithful to her death in 1930 at age 52. William continued to attend Church after her death, in company with another woman, as yet unidentified but perhaps a daughter of his first marriage. He died in 1940, at about age 80. (Records give his birthdate anywhere from 1858 to 1863; although I have no evidence that he was born in slavery, his birth in North Carolina in that era suggests the possibility.)

William never held the priesthood in life. Marie and William could not have their marriage sealed in life. Their temple work was done for them in recent years.

Nowhere on their membership records or in any note I have found in branch minutes is there an indication of race.

-oooOooo-

That might be the end of the story of a couple who remained active and faithful under unusual and unfortunate circumstances. But there’s a little more.

About 18 months ago, Paul Reeve, with whom I had shared what I knew about the Graves, was reading Armand Mauss’s memoir Shifting Borders and a Tattered Passport. He stopped and reread a line at the point in the story where Armand detailed his early encounters with race and the Church. Then he emailed me.

What was the name of the black couple from California? [he asked. Armand] speaks of growing up in Oakland California and ‘an elderly black couple named Graves [who] regularly attended worship service in my ward, but no one could explain why they were there or why they did not participate much in the proceedings.’

I immediately thought of the couple you are working on, but I couldn’t recall their names. It would be too unlikely for it to be the same couple, but I had to ask.

I wrote to Armand that evening, telling him I thought I knew something about the Graves couple, and asking if he had any further memories he could share – I didn’t want to guide his memories so didn’t tell him any of what I had uncovered.

Less than four hours later, Armand responded. He had been only 12 when William died, so his memories were those of a child. Nevertheless, virtually everything he told me fit well with something I had found in the record.

I’m sure that he stood to bear his testimony at least a few times during the few years that I knew him (though I couldn’t tell you much of what he said). I remember being impressed at least once by an account of his conversion, which I think began with a street meeting in Oakland at which he happened to drop by while LDS missionaries were preaching. He was always in his seat early, before the sacrament meeting started at 10, and he always sat next to an aisle, most of the way toward the back, as I recall. I often greeted him before the meeting began, and he always returned a pleasant response. He was a lovely and gracious old man! How I would love to talk with him now!

You and me both.

There’s a not-to-be-missed sequel to this story, in this post.

Vicki Standing, a highly skilled genealogist with a specialty in African American research, contributed a great deal to my knowledge of the genealogical facts of William’s and Marie’s lives. Please let me put you in touch with her should you ever need such services. The involvement of Vicki, Armand, and Paul in uncovering this short story is a great illustration of the collaborative nature of historical research.