The front room of Catherine Ferrell’s house on Fayetteville Street is less like a living room and more like a museum. Framed photographs hug the wall space and sit atop every bookshelf and table. They contain the smiles of her children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews; even a photograph from the 1920s of her high school girl’s basketball team from Douglass High School, Warsaw. One is a portrait of President Obama. In another photograph, Ferrell is pictured beside Hillary Clinton.
There are newspaper clippings and ornaments scattered among these images. There’s a section of the wall, hidden behind where the front door swings open, dedicated to plaques Ferrell has received. One reads, “Mother of the Year 2002,” awarded by Mt. Gilead Baptist Church. The certificate next to it recognizes Ferrell for her dedication and service to the Durham chapter of the National Council of Negro Women, Inc.
The items in the room are a collection of hundreds of memories, gathered over her 113 years (and counting) on earth, which make her the oldest person in North Carolina.
They showcase her persistent dedication to community engagement, having voted in most elections (at local, state, and national level) since she moved to Durham in 1945. (Though the records prior to 1985 are hard to come by, the Durham County Board of Elections records show she has voted in every general election for the past 25 years.) They are also a testament to her resilience.
Catherine Ferrell was born in 1912, in Warsaw, a small town about 100 miles south east of Durham. By 21, Ferrell should have been able to vote. But this was the time of Jim Crow laws, and tactics of disenfranchisement—like polling fees, literary tests, and voter intimidation—prevented young Black women like Ferrell from being able to vote.
Voter disenfranchisement was just one of the prejudices Ferrell faced across her life. It was all the big stuff—like voting and segregation—but it was the little stuff, too. For example, when Ferrell’s high school burnt down, they reequipped the classrooms with old, grubby desks. And when Ferrell nannied, cooked, and cleaned for a white family nearby, she was not allowed to sit down on the toilet seat. Even when Ferrell tried to cash out some of the money she’d been putting away in a bank in Durham, she was denied at first. The bank tellers at this “white bank” were suspicious of who she was, she said.
By the time she was able to vote, Ferrell understood the gravity of having a voice. As I talked to Ferrell, she sat upright in a chair with her daughter, Shirley, adjacent. She wore a rich blue blazer and skirt, and was decorated with pearls around her neck. Though she used a walker, she insisted on standing for a photograph.
“[It was] a right that other people have that you don’t have,” her daughter, Shirley Ferrell said. “And then you got it. You need to use that right.”
During the Covid-19 pandemic, Ferrell did curbside voting. Even now, at 113 years old, she votes. She plans to vote in this municipal election on Saturday.
“I want somebody to get me to the polls every time,” Ferrell said.
Ferrell has impressed upon her family and community the importance of voting. Beginning in middle school, Shirley remembers accompanying her parents to the polls, even though she couldn’t yet vote. She can also remember her mother giving neighbours who didn’t have a car a ride to the polling booth, since the nearest bus stop was a mile away. Today, Ferrell still encourages her family to have their say: “You can express what you would like,” she said.
Civic engagement has always been central to Ferrell’s life, and church is her foundation. As a child, she lived only two blocks away from her church in Warsaw, and she became a devoted attendee. Her mother taught her to pray first thing after clambering out of bed each morning, and she’s continued the ritual ever since. During Obama’s presidency, she prayed for his safety every day.
“We got up every morning, and the first thing you did, you kneel down and pray,” she said. “And I did it until I got as stiff as I am now.”
Ferrell worked with the missionary society at her church, visiting local orphanages, nursing homes, and supporting the sick. As part of the Durham Elks, a fraternity that promotes welfare, charity, and justice through community action, she served in the highest rank as Daughter Ruler. She’s also part of the National Council of Negro Women, an organization dedicated to empowering Black Americans by promoting education, civic engagement, and social justice.
After moving to Durham in 1945, she worked seasonally at the American Tobacco Company, helped her husband, Maynard, with his community grocery store, and cleaned houses on Saturdays (and, strictly, not Sundays). Then, in the 1960s, she became a cafeteria worker for the Durham City Schools, working at Carr Junior High School and Brogden Middle School until she retired in the mid-1970s. Ferrell and her colleagues went on strike for better job benefits, and they were successful.
For Ferrell, voting is just one piece of the puzzle. It’s also about what you do each day: how you support your neighbours who are less fortunate than you; participating in school board elections to have a say in your children’s future; and what change you can make in your community.
“I didn’t get to march with Martin Luther King,” Shirley recalled her mother saying recently, “but I supported him with a little bit of money that I had.”
Ferrell cares about being informed on local and national matters. When they were still in business, Ferrell would get her news from the Durham Morning Herald and the Carolina Times. (Clippings of the latter survive in her front room). Now, she hears about candidates at voter forums. And she watches the TV for the news, usually ABC, NBC, CNN, and MSNBC.
“The first thing we do when we walk in the door,” said Shirley, “is put the television on. Television—and then the heat.”
A small TV sits in the center of the back wall, apparently well-loved, used everyday. Like the rest of the room, the television is almost swallowed by photographs and memorabilia.
The souvenirs of the front room tell a story. Catherine Ferrell is a woman who was born in a small town in rural North Carolina, whose grandmother was born into slavery. She had dreams of becoming a teacher but not enough money in her pocket. She moved to a city to find something better for herself, despite the racial prejudices of the Jim Crow era. In many ways, this is the story of millions of Americans living in the 20th-century South.
What makes Catherine Ferrell extraordinary is her ability to persevere, and to bring others with her. She has dedicated her life to her community and her family; and in doing so, she has never failed to honour the voice that she was given. She instilled in her children the same motivation:
“If I can finish high school, learning by an oil lamp and a fireplace, you have got to finish high school,” Shirley remembers her mother would say.
Catherine Ferrell’s story is one of resilience. She’s 113 years old. And she’s still going.
Above photo of Catherine Ferrell by Paige Stevens – The 9th Street Journal
