Whittier A. Sengstacke Jr. was proud of his heritage

Whittier Alexander Sengstacke Jr.

During the turbulent 1960s, Whittier Alexander Sengstacke Jr. wrote cutting-edge news stories for the Memphis Tri-State Defender. If the surname sounds familiar, it’s because the name speaks volumes. 

Sengstacke was the eldest son of the late venerable newspaper publisher Whittier Sengstacke Sr., and the nephew of the late publishing magnate John H. Sengstacke, who founded the Defender in 1951. 

Sengstacke had been ill for a while and died the morning of Feb. 20 at Midtown Center for Health and Rehabilitation. He was 76.

In the late 1960s and early ‘70s, the respected journalist held the title of editor-in-chief at the Defender. He reported from the trenches and cobbled together breaking news stories from a Black perspective, which the mainstream press had largely ignored.

He was an eyewitness in the struggle for freedom and justice. For Black journalists during that era, fear no doubt was a constant reminder of the dangers that confronted them while they were trying to shed light on the age-old problem of systemic racism. Whatever confronted Sengstacke, he kept reporting the news. 

His career highlights included covering hard news – police brutality, crime, politics – and other noteworthy news stories. He continued to write and performed other duties as well for the Defender into the late 1990s. 

“He was a great guy, very knowledgeable of the newspaper business and didn’t mind sharing his knowledge,” said Marzie G. Thomas, publisher and editor of the Defender in the early 2000s.

“He had been in the business all of his life,” she said. “We loved Whit. He was a wonderful person. He always was so supportive of me.”

He also was supportive of Thomas’ predecessor, Audrey Parker McGhee, the Defender’s publisher and editor from the late 1980s until she retired in the early 2000s. 

“He was well-grounded as a member of the Black Press,” she said, “not only because his father was head of the Defender, but because of the Sengstacke name. He always talked about his heritage.”

He was very courageous too, McGhee added. 

Born in Chicago, Ill., Sengstacke received dual degrees in speech and journalism from Tennessee State University and applied his skills to the family business of newspaper publishing.

He was just as steeped in writing plays and performing on the stage as he was in journalism. He first thrived in his native Chicago before bringing his skillset to Memphis, where he settled down as a journalist for the Defender. 

Ethel Sengstacke, a former TV camera operator, took note of her big brother’s work ethics and varied accomplishments in journalism, including his work in the theatre when she was much younger. 

“He was always into theatrics,” she said. “He used to have a puppet show at the public library. We put on shows for the neighborhood kids. One time he built a stage and I fell off it.”

The injury still reminds Ethel Sengstacke of that harrowing experience. Other experiences were typical between a brother and his younger sister. “He was a big brother who always took me to the movies,” she said, “and he would give me advice.”

Pat Mitchell Worley remembers her uncle’s creative side. “He used to do art projects with me,” she said, “like papier-mâché, acting projects, and storytelling. He was the first to push the idea of storytelling.” 

A memorial service for Whittier Alexander Sengstacke Jr. will be held in March. A date has not been determined. Serenity Funeral Home at 1638 Sycamore View Rd. in Memphis has charge.

   

Linda Sengstacke was a tough editor and crusader for justice at the Tri-State Defender

The name Linda Taylor Sengstacke was synonymous with the Black Press in the 1970s and ‘80s. She was the editor-in-chief of the Tri-State Defender during that time and followed the tradition of attacking issues head-on without fear or favor, an approach to journalism that was encouraged by her uncle-in-law, John H. Sengstacke, who founded the Defender in 1951.

Mrs. Sengstacke was married to John H. Sengstacke’s nephew, Herman Fredrick Sengstacke, a photojournalist. On Sept. 9, she died peacefully at their home in Bristol, Penn., after a long illness. She was 67.

Linda Taylor Sengstacke

“Linda was committed to whatever she was doing and was always helping somebody,” her husband said. The Sengstackes were married 33 years, but spent a total of 40 years together.

She was the quintessential journalist and a crusader for justice, said Herman Fredrick Sengstacke, recalling a headline story of a man who was allegedly drugged and killed his father.

“Linda wrote a story and the man got off,” he said. “The lead story was ‘I Didn’t Know I Killed My Father.’”

Mrs. Sengstacke’s contributions to the newspaper can be found in the Defender’s archives and remembered by the people who knew her as a bona fide journalist.

“She was fearless,” said her sister-in-law Ethel Sengstacke, who once worked at the Defender as a photojournalist. “She researched her stories and was fair and balanced. She sought the truth.”

She said Mrs. Sengstacke wanted to know the truth about “Voodoo Village,” an eerie compound in the Westwood community. Her cousin, Thomas Maurice Sengstacke Picou, “challenged us to go down to Voodoo Village.”

Picou was John H. Sengstacke’s nephew and a widely respected, award-winning journalist from Chicago. Sensing their apprehension to investigate Voodoo Village, she said Picou responded in jest, “You supposed to be journalists.” 

“So we went down to a dead-end street,” she recalls. “I turned the car around so we could get out. Linda said she wanted to talk to this man; he was the leader. He told us he was going to put a curse on us.”

Herman Fredrick Sengstacke and his wife
of 33 years, Linda Taylor Sengstacke

 Strange people were encroaching upon them, Ethel Sengstacke said. “So I got in the car and it wouldn’t start. We finally got it started and got the hell out of there.”

The Defender had been a family operation with creative input from Picou, whom Mrs. Sengstacke esteemed. After he died in 2014, she told a reporter, “Tommy taught me everything I know about the newspaper business.”

She often referred to Picou as her mentor.

Mrs. Sengstacke was just as fond of her immediate family and friends. “She treated me like a daughter,” said Michele Lucas, a niece. “I talked to her every night. She was family-oriented.”

The consensus is Mrs. Sengstacke was a tough journalist. However, Lucas pointed out this about her aunt: “You weren’t going to get over on her. She’d bark at you, but would help you with anything.”

“She was always a good aunt to everybody,” added Christine Shane, Mrs. Sengstacke’s sister from Texas and the only sibling left. “When we were kids, she was the busiest of eight of us.”

Shane said life for Mrs. Sengstacke began at 1616 Monsarrat St. in a small brick home in South Memphis. It was the family home headed by their parents, the late Mamie and James Taylor Sr.

Mrs. Sengstacke attended St. Augustine Catholic School and graduated from Father Bertrand High School in 1970. She left there and matriculated at the former Memphis State University.

Mrs. Sengstacke held a couple of jobs before fate led her to The Tri-State Defender, Memphis’ premier black newspaper. “She was the first female editor of the paper,” her proud husband said.

A memorial service for Mrs. Linda Taylor Sengstacke is slated for 1 p.m. Saturday, Sept. 28 at Joe Ford Funeral Home, 1616 Winchester Rd., Memphis, TN 38116.

LEGACY: McCann Leronius Reid

      When the clarion was sounded during the civil rights movement for freedom and justice, a young journalist and photographer answered the call – McCann Leronius Reid. He would capture the movement and its aftermath through the lens of his camera and during his stint as editor of the Tri-State Defender.   

      Reid embedded himself in the movement during some of its most pivotal moments and recalled his experiences long after it had ended. After serving more than a dozen years at the newspaper, he continued sounding off as a contributing writer well into the 1980s on issues germane to African Americans.

      The sound of Reid’s voice, however, would eventually fade, and his film camera, now a relic of the past, would no longer capture the spirit of a people determined to break down barriers and overcome racism and injustices.

McCann Leronius Reid

      Reid died Sept. 20 at the Memphis VA Medical Center. He was 90. Relatives, friends and admirers bid him farewell on Sept. 29th during his funeral at Longview Heights Seventh-Day Adventist Church, where he was a member.

      Reid had been in ill health at a private nursing home receiving special care, his wife, Cora Reid, said. She’d hoped to move him to Nashville with her to live with their daughter, Angela Kim Reid-Thompson, director of rehabilitation at Nashville Community Care and Rehabilitation at Bordeaux.

      Though Reid could not join his wife and daughter, the two hold fond memories of a husband and father who lived life to the fullest and left behind an invaluable legacy and an indelible impression on those he’d encountered.

      “I wasn’t too much aware of what was going on at that time until years later,” said Cora Reid, a retired Memphis City Schools teacher. “Then I realized how important of a person my husband was in the civil rights movement.”

      What she remembers most was that her husband was away from home a lot, somewhere recording history as a journalist and photographer. “It didn’t dawn on me…but he contributed a lot to the civil rights movement,” she said. “[But] I don’t know whether I felt the danger until years later.”

      Reid happened to be in the right places and at the right time as an eyewitness to history, she said. He met Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. when they were students at Boston University. Dr. King would go on to lead a “movement” and Reid would become an active participant and eventually document it. 

      For example, as a journalist, Reid put pen to paper and created a narrative detailing the African-American struggle. As a photographer, he captured the heart and soul of those in the trenches and others on the front line for justice. Then he transfixed it all for posterity.

      Reid participated in a number of marches and documented his experiences, including the march that drew Dr. King to Memphis to demand better working conditions for the city’s sanitation workers.  

      “My father had a lot of integrity,” Reid-Thompson said. “The way he lived was in support and alignment with nonviolence. His writing was a statement, his voice. He allowed his pen to be the power.”

      Reid-Thompson also remembers her father as a quiet, gentle man with a wit humor. “He was very unassuming, but a renaissance man,” she noted.

      Audrey McGhee, the former publisher of the TSD, also remembers Reid as being “quiet and unassuming.” What she remembers most, however, was that he was dedicated and devoted to his job and “always on top of things.”

      Though Reid had left the newspaper before McGhee’s tenure as publisher, he’d followed a succession of editors, such as Lewis O. Swingler and Alex Wilson, who challenged the status quo by using the press to affect change.

      Reid’s voice was succinct, deliberate, and he used it to get his point across. He also voiced his concerns about segregated conditions. And when restaurants were desegregating, he and William “Bill” Little, TSD’s sports writer, decided they’d test the law by making an entrance.

      Not willing to bend under the weight of racism and discrimination, Reid filed a lawsuit in federal court claiming that the Memphis Press Scimitar and The Commercial Appeal refused to hire him because of his race and religion.

      Reid eventually found employment at the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, where he served as editor of the E.E.O.C.’s union paper. He continued to ply his skills as a journalist and later spent his golden years with his family.

      Cora Reid said she doesn’t have a lot of her husband’s work, but “I do have some of his most important photos.”