Racial Housing Covenants

 by Rachel Dworkin, archivist

In February 1958, Ganung Realty Company listed 917 Lake Street in Elmira for sale. The spacious home had 4 bedrooms, 1 bath, an attic playroom, multiple fireplaces, and an enclosed front porch. It also boasted a 2-car garage and a fenced-in back yard perfect for pets. The list price as $10,800 or approximately $125,000 in today’s dollars. There was one catch: no coloreds.

917 Lake Street

 

917 Lake Street realtor's notes.

Real covenants, or legal agreements related to land use, have a long history in American law. These agreements can be between the current owner and buyer, between the current owner and all future buyers, and between neighbors as in a home owners’ association. Covenants can lay out an action which must be performed or forbid an action. In the case of covenants between owners and buyers, the terms of the agreement are written right into the deed of sale. Up until fairly recently, it was legal to restrict the race of who could buy or rent a property.

In America, the first racially restrictive housing covenants emerged in the mid-19^th century. They didn’t become widespread, however, until 1917 when the Supreme Court struck down race-based municipal zoning laws in the case Buchanan v. Warley. White landowners turned to racial covenants to keep racial minorities out of their neighborhoods. The specific language used varied wildly. Some simply specified that owners must be white or American-born. Others named specific groups blocked from buying, most often Blacks, but frequently including Asians, Jews, and immigrants.

Locally, there is little evidence of racial zoning laws. There were, however, multiple housing developments with racial restrictions. From 1914 through 1916, the Glen View Manor development, located in West Elmira between Water and Church Streets across from Rorick’s Glen, was billed as “fully restricted” and “carefully restricted” with “not a lot sold to an undesirable party.” The Fairfax development, located on the Southside off Broadway, was more explicit with regard to racial segregation. A 1929 ad proudly proclaimed the development was restricted to white people only. Just a year later, the Blemont tract, between Lake and Grand Central Avenue on the northside, was similarly restricted. Most of West Elmira’s post-war construction was advertised as being a “restricted neighborhood.”

Ad for Fairfax development, June 28, 1929

 Civil rights activists did not take this lying down. The NAACP (National Association for the Advancement of Colored People) and various buyers of color brought a series of lawsuits related to racial covenants. In 1926, the Supreme Court upheld them as legal in Corrigan v. Buckley as they were private and not government action. In 1948, however, the court reversed course in Shelley v. Kraemer, finding that, while having a housing covenant in and of itself didn’t violate the Fourteenth Amendment, using a court to enforce it did. Despite this, homeowners continued to use racial covenants until 1968 when Title VIII of the Civil Rights Act, better known as the Fair Housing Act, explicitly prohibited racial covenants and discrimination against renters and buyers based on race, color, religion, or nation of origin. The law was later expanded to include sex, family status, disability, and LGBTQ status.

Despite no longer being legal, the effects of racial housing covenants still linger today. The racist language is still written into historic deeds and appears on abstracts of title. Moreover, the economic impact still persists. Multiple generations of Black families were unable to build generational wealth through homeownership. Generally speaking, homeownership accounts for as much as two-thirds of individual household wealth. White families are four times more likely to inherit a house or received funds from the sale of one as Black families. Economists estimate that between 12 and 16% of the nation’s persistent racial wealth gap stems from this disparity. The house on Lake Street was far from an isolated incident and racial covenants restricted far more than where people could live.

 

When Lovell’s Drug Store Ran Out of Ice Cream

by Erin Doane, Senior Curator

Postcard of a watercolor painting of Lovell’s Snack Bar by Talitha Botsford

“Sorry! No More Ice Cream This Month!” read the advertisement in the Star-Gazette. It was November 15, 1944 and Lovell’s Drug Store has sold its quota of ice cream for the month. World War II was raging, cream and sugar were being rationed, and a milk shortage was looming. Yet, people still wanted their ice cream and local sellers were allowed a certain amount each month.

Star-Gazette, November 15, 1944

Lovell’s Drug Store at 1131 Lake Street had been in business for over 40 years by the time the U.S. entered World War II. It was started by Charles Lovell in 1900. Charles was born in Elmira in 1872. He attended School No. 4 (now Diven School) then went to the Elmira Free Academy. In 1891, he began his apprenticeship at E.A. Jones Drug Store. With the hands-on experience and correspondence courses, he passed the examination of the state board of pharmacy in 1897 and became a licensed pharmacist.

Charles Lovell and his wife Stella, c. 1900

He went to work at Hooker & Dorr’s Drug Store at the corner of Main and 3rd Streets in 1898. That same year, he was elected as a member of the New York Pharmaceutical Association.

Hooker & Dorr’s Drug Store, 1890s

Two years later, when an opportunity to purchase Frederick A. West’s drug store at 1134 Lake Street came up, Charles took it. In 1905, he moved the store across the road to 1131 Lake Street. Along with selling pharmaceuticals and health-related items, Charles added a soda fountain which offered ice cream and other treats. In later years, there was also a wide selection of candy and comic books that were enjoyed by students at near-by Diven School. 

Lovell’s Drug Store, 1908

Interior of Lovell’s Drug Store, Charles standing at left, 1910

Clayton Lovell took over the business from his father in 1939, though Charles remained working as pharmacist at the store until about a year before his death in 1953. It was Clayton who had to deal with the ice cream shortages in the 1940s.  

Ice cream had become an important part of the United States’ armed forces starting in World War I. On Navy hospital ships, ice cream was considered a nutritious, healthful food for sick and injured sailors and soldiers. By World War II, ice cream was officially designated by the War Production Board as a “wartime essential” alongside medical supplies and ammunition. Battleships and aircraft carriers were equipped with ice cream making machinery. Not only was ice cream considered important for health as a good source of vitamins, proteins, and minerals, it was also good for morale.

Members of the Women’s Ambulance and Defense Corps enjoying ice cream, 1944

Two of the main ingredients of ice cream, sugar and cream, were rationed on the home front to make sure the military had enough. In January 1944, it was reported that four-fifths of New York State’s milk and ice cream stocks had been taken to supply the troops. That year, there was concern that there would be a nationwide milk shortage as dairy farmers suffered from feed scarcity and lack of manpower and equipment for their operations. Fortunately, they were able to overcome these difficulties and by May 1944 more ice cream was promised for civilians. The War Food Administration approved the manufacture of about 30 million more gallons of ice cream for consumers at home.

Lovell’s advertisement, Star-Gazette, June 27, 1945

That boost really helped the local supply. In both February and March of 1944, Lovell’s Drug Store had run out of its quota of ice cream before the end of the month. They didn’t run short again until November 1944. The demand for ice cream at Lovell’s exceeded demand again in 1945 when sugar allotments were cut for manufacturers of sweets. In every month from the beginning of the year through August, except for May, Lovell’s ran out of ice cream. In February, they had already gone through their quote by the 12^th. The supply picked up right after the war ended in September 1945 and Lovell’s never advertised being out of ice cream again.

Back before the war, in 1939, Harry Pack started working at Lovell’s as a part-time carhop for the soda fountain. He was 16 years old at the time. In 1957, he bought the store from the Lovell family and kept the name, running it as Lovell’s Gay Nineties Original Soda Fountain. Harry’s grandson Theodore “Ted” Pack, Jr. took over operations in 1993 and ran it for two more years before having to close for good in 1995. The building was torn down in 2012, but many people have fond memories of the store, its ice cream treats, and the generations of families who served them.

Lovell’s advertisement, Star-Gazette, August 13, 1966