ABSTRACT
I first met Minnie in 1955, when our driver, Sam Earl, brought her to the house one Sunday after lunch. Sam was a thin, stooped man of indeterminate age with straight black hair and was so light skinned and “white” featured that he’d often be taken for a white man. It became a joke around the house. My father, Judge Poole, often spoke of the time a white lady from Atlanta had tried to make Sam sit down beside her on the bus. She made such a fuss that, finally, Sam Earl had to tell her he was colored. The white riders laughed so hard that the driver threatened to put them off the bus if they didn’t quiet down and let him drive
