Harry Meehan, the third child of Charles and Hester, was a four-year-old toddler when the family left Canada for Nebraska. He grew to manhood in Overton and traveled to Cherry County in 1905 with the family. He soon left Cherry County to find work elsewhere, but he often communicated with his family, including his younger brother, Bill.

In 1909-10, my Uncle Harry Meehan was twenty-nine and working in Grand Island. His youngest brother, Bill, was twelve and still lived at home in DeWitty. Harry sent postcards to Bill. The words conveyed everyday messages about neighbors Albert Riley and “Bill” Crawford, dogs or the lack thereof, and plans to be home again. The postcards were simple but told of the love shared between a much older and considerably younger brother.

Three of Harry’s postcards to Dad have survived. Viewing them now, my focus is drawn not to the brotherly greeting on the back but to the images on the front. Juxtaposing the middle picture (above) against the bookend, velvet cowboys adorning the other two cards, I wonder if Harry was sending another message to Bill.
 

The white cowboys are decked out in red, white, and blue. Shirts of red velvet cover their hearts while rearing horses, and a six-shooter proclaims their domination of all they see. They command their world. One hundred years later, the red velvet is as plush and rich as the day the cards were mailed.
 

The third card, copyrighted in 1909, starkly contrasts the other two. It is a black-and-white card with shades of gray. It portrays a barefoot and ragged black man being kicked by a frightened, starving mule. The attack is witnessed by a blackbird sitting in a barren tree surrounded by trash and … a fence. Is that red, white, and blue cowboy on the other side of the wall? Near the tree, there is a hole in the fence. Perhaps the man is being kicked because he dared peer through the hole and dream … or he is just being kicked.
 

The caption warns that there is only “One Strike.” A century has passed, and the imagery of racism and Jim Crow America is as vivid today as the red velvet cowboy shirts. 

Was Harry sending life messages to his little brother about the world? Perhaps the cards were the only ones available; a choice made my chance. But maybe the cards were intentionally chosen. Perhaps the images they portrayed sparked thoughts embedded in a mind molded by the duplicitous life so many people of African descent in America live(d).
 

This message decries the disparity between the lives of blacks and whites. Was it a warning to a young brother about what he should expect in and from the world? We will never know how Harry chose the postcards. Still, he likely recognized that life in early-1900s Nebraska wasn’t the racial utopia often associated with the early African-descended homesteaders. I have also wondered if, at least subconsciously, Harry saw these images as the inheritance from his parents – one black and one white.

Death certificates for Charles and Hester Freeman Meehan held one final conflicting bit of misinformation regarding color and race. 

Hester was classified as "white" and changed to "black." Charles was classified as "brown" but changed to "black." Ireland is listed as the birthplace of both of his parents.

DNA analysis provides a more accurate picture of their lineage - see DNA Stories on this website for more information.

Decades later, their love survived and lingers with their descendants.

Charles Waddell Chesnutt, born in 1858, and Ocsar Micheaux, born in 1884, were American authors and filmmakers whose stories tackled race, politics, and social identity issues. 

Charles Chesnutt was a teacher, lawyer, and author who wrote extensively about race. 

Oscar Micheaux was a pioneering black filmmaker and South Dakota homesteader.

The House Behind the Cedars, published in 1900, was Charles W. Chesnutt's first published novel. It is a story about love, race, and identity in post-civil war America. In 1927, Oscar Micheaux adapted it into a silent film that the Virginia Censorship Board banned. Veiled Aristocrats was Mr. Micheaux's 1932 remake of the film.