Mattiebelle Woods, Milwaukee’s ‘Grande Dame’ of the Black Press

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Photo via Milwaukee Bronzeville Histories

Mattiebelle Woods

Mattiebelle Woods in the Negro Business Directory of the State of Wisconsin, 1950-195

Back in 1957, when I was a starry-eyed youngster not yet old enough to vote, I returned home from school one day to find a phone message from Mattiebelle Woods, an old friend of our family. Although puzzled, I assumed it had something do with the fact that I was majoring in in journalism at Marquette University. 

“She wants you to come to work for her,” said my mother, the late Juanita Carter. “She’s starting a weekly newspaper and wants you with her. She thinks you can help.”

“What did you say?” I asked, surprised and happy over the prospect of being a reporter. “I told her she’ll have to talk to you,” Mama said. “I can’t speak for him. That boy has a mind of his own. Then we just gossiped.” 

I remember it like yesterday. Mattiebelle, then 55, already was the “grande dame” of the Black press in Milwaukee. Everyone read “Party Line by Mattiebelle.” I was taught to respect my elders so wasted no time in calling her and we agreed to meet at a vacant storefront near North 12th and West North Avenue.

“This is it,” she said, talking a mile-a-minute. “This is the new home of the Milwaukee Recorder. I got some money from some important people for it. Did you know I worked with your father on the Milwaukee Globe? Well, I want you to be my editor. What do you think, Dickie?”—my name to all my friends in the giddy days of my youth.

Bundle of Energy

Ironically, the first thing I recall saying to the tiny, bright-eyed, bundle of energy was that the newspaper office was just a block away from Zembo Temple No. 70, where my late father, Sanford Carter, served as Illustrious Potentate of Milwaukee’s Prince Hall Shriners. The second thing was “Yes, I’ll take the job. Thanks for asking.”

It turns out the call from Mattiebelle—and our initial meeting—were among the best things that ever happened to me. Indeed, Mattiebelle got me started on the road to where I wanted to go. Although very ambitious, I was doing little about it at the time. I didn’t work on the college newspaper, the Marquette Tribune, and spent more time with girl friends from my Lincoln High School years than with my college studies.

Mattiebelle helped change that. She lit a creative fire under me that has yet to burn out—a consuming desire to report, write and analyze the news which continues to this day. It was in her short-lived Milwaukee Recorder that my first byline appeared. I was always grateful and frequently told her so. And when my first freelance piece—on pioneering Black female alderman Vel Phillips—was published in the October 1958 issue of Sepia magazine, Mattiebelle was the first to call and offer congratulations.

Thoughtful in Turbulent Times

In the turbulent 1960s, Mattiebelle’s thoughtful influence encouraged me. And with George Sanders, Jay Anderson, Reuben Harpole—and her grandson, Kenny Bedford—we made the Milwaukee Star one of America’s best Black newspapers. We knew we could always call her for a name, time or place in our coverage of the Black community. And we did. 

Mattiebelle knew everyone in town and loved to print their names. She’d attend a gathering and list everyone there in her legendary “Party Line” column for weeklies such as the Milwaukee Courier, Star and Defender, among others. She rarely missed a party. She also contributed to Ebony and Jet, keeping them up to date on Black Milwaukee.

Over the years, whenever Mattiebelle and I talked, she’d call me “my guy.” And she loved to do so in public, including from the stage of the Varsity Theatre on June 20, 1992. The occasion was a nostalgic “Father’s Day Eve” concert by the legendary Spaniels, of “Goodnight Sweetheart, Goodnight” fame, which I retuned from New York to arrange. 

This is how Mattiebelle previewed the affair in “Party Line” in the Courier: “The show will be emceed by Richard G. Carter, of Milwaukee, who is working on an authorized biography of the Spaniels. Among the special guests will be Mannie Mauldin Jr., and yours truly, who gave Carter his start in the news business.”

Lifelong Contributions

Co-promoted by my good friend, the late George Sanders, the event also recognized the lifelong contributions of Mattiebelle and the late, great Maudlin—one of the first disk jockeys in America to give regular play to the Spaniels’ signature tune destined to become the everlasting anthem of original Black rhythm and blues.

A highlight of the evening was presentation by the late John Givens to lead singer James “Pookie” Hudson, of a County Executive plaque proclaiming June 20 as “Spaniels Day” in Milwaukee. As all of us stood side-by-side, Mattiebelle reached up, gave me a hug and gleefully proclaimed to the audience that “Dickie is still my guy.”

When Sanders e-mailed me in New York about Mattiebelle’s death on Feb. 17, 2005, at age 102, I was truly saddened. And as the memories flooded back, I recalled her accepting my invitation to guest on WNOV radio’s “The Carter-McGee Report” in 1994. We lived near each other at Northridge Lakes, and she asked if I’d drive her to the station. Of course, she bent my ear with the latest gossip all the way there and back.

One of the last times Mattiebelle personally effected my life was her sparkling coverage in the Courier of a surprise 87th birthday party for my father on Feb. 1, 1998, at the Servite Woods Clubhouse. Yet, when I saw the 100th birthday tribute she received in Jet magazine in 2002, it was like our old days together. She was that kind of great lady. 

In thinking of Mattiebelle, I am reminded of Richard Basehart’s opening and closing line in Decision Before Dawn (1952). “You stay alive as long as you’re remembered—and die only by forgetfulness.” 

When news broke of Mattiebelle’s passing, Milwaukee’s Al Jarreau—my lifelong pal—called me to commiserate. He loved her, as did we all. I’ll never forget Mattiebelle—and always will be proud to have been “her guy.”