Peach Sinclair, Wade Street.
[Jan 29 1938]
Zig-zaging across better than a mile of increasingly less thickly
settled territory went the interviewer. The terrain was rolling--to put
it mildly. During most of the walk her feet met the soft resistance of
winter-packed earth. Sidewalks were the exception rather than the rule.
Wade Street, she had been told was "somewhere over in the Boulevard".
Holding to a general direction she kept her course. "The Boulevard",
known on the tax books of Hot Springs as Boulevard Addition, sprawls
over a wide area. Houses vary in size and construction with startling
frequency. Few of them are pretentious. Many appear well planned, are in
excellent state of repair and front on yards, scrupulously neat,
sometimes patterned with flower beds. Occasionally a building leans with
age, roof caving and windows and doors yawning voids--long since
abandoned by owners to wind and weather.
Up one hill, down another went the interviewer. Given a proper steer
here and there by colored men and women--even children along the way,
she finally found hereself in front of "that green house" belonging to
Peach Sinclair.
Two colored women, middle aged, sat basking in the mild January sunlight
on a back porch.
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