A Hendersonville Community Razed by Urban Renewal
By Lauren Stepp
Donnie Parks remembers the first time he felt judged for living in the “bad” part of town. It was a stormy day in 1965. Because of the weather, two white teachers from the Rosa Edwards School had offered to drive Parks and his twin brother home.
Ulysses Clyde Mills, Sr., Cauley’s grandfather. Photo courtesy of Crystal Cauley
A fourth grader at the time, Parks was proud of the small rock house he shared with his mother, aunt and 10 siblings in Hendersonville. But when the car wheezed to a stop that afternoon, the teachers didn’t see the well-kept neighborhood or the quaint cottage fringed with stunning rose bushes. Instead, their eyes fixated on a broken windowpane.
“‘Look at that,’” Parks remembers one of the women tut-tutting as she pointed to the window. “‘What chance do these boys have of ever becoming anything?’”
Parks wanted to defend himself. He wanted to tell the teachers that his siblings had smashed the glass during a lively game of Batman. He wanted to announce that he would, in fact, make something of himself. But instead, he thanked the women for the ride and quietly stepped out into the pouring rain.
“All they saw was a Black family in a house with a broken window,” says Parks, who became Hendersonville’s first Black police chief in 1987. He served for 20 years. “Our home was beautiful. But they didn’t see that.”
Parks lived in Black Bottom, a predominantly African American community bounded by South Church Street, Kanuga Road and East Barnwell Street. According to Henderson County’s Black History Research Committee, Black Bottom emerged in the 1940s where Hot Dog World and the Chamber of Commerce stand today. Parks describes the area as “clean, neat and close-knit.” Everybody knew one another, he says.
The neighborhood consisted of several businesses including an Esso, Leslie’s Grocery, Oates Paint and Body Shop and a boarding house run by Estelle Ballard. There were also dozens of stilt houses occupied by quiet, blue-collar people.
“Some neighbors got into trouble here and there, but for the most part it was a peaceful area,” says Parks. “Most people worked, came home and spent time with their families.”
Star of Bethel Baptist Church was another important facet of life in Black Bottom. According to Parks, the pastor often made house visits and members of the congregation weren’t afraid to pipe up when kids were misbehaving.
Star of Bethel Baptist Church. Photo by Ashley Epsey
Alas, this village-like ethos was fleeting. During Urban Renewal in the 1970s, homes in Black Bottom were deemed uninhabitable and consequently razed. With nowhere else to go, displaced families settled into public housing.
“While some families were offered a small amount of money to relocate, others were simply asked to move,” says Crystal Cauley, manager of the Black History Collective of Henderson County.
Cauley’s family experienced Urban Renewal firsthand. As residents of Black Bottom, they were forced to leave the place—and people—they knew and loved. This left scars, says Cauley.
“African Americans were traumatized,” she notes. “After Urban Renewal, the sense of closeness and community was gone. And we can never get that back.”
Parks, who moved into public housing when he was 12, agrees that the tenor of Black Bottom can never be recovered. However, he does believe better efforts can be made to remember the neighborhood.
“Hendersonville has been dismissive of Black heritage,” says Parks. “But if we’re going to respect one another, we need to build and preserve history together.”
For more information on the Black Bottom neighborhood, visit BlackHistories.org.
