They Served a Country That Segregated Them

Remembering Lincoln School’s World War I and World War II Veterans

When I look at these pages from the 1950 Lincoln School yearbook, I do not simply see lists of names.

I see young people who once walked the halls of Lincoln School. I see sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, parents, classmates, and neighbors. I see members of Wheeling’s African American community who answered their country’s call during two of the most consequential wars in modern history.

The yearbook identifies 34 members of the Lincoln School community on its World War I Honor Roll and 186 on its World War II Honor Roll—220 names altogether.

Each name represents a life. Each life represents a story. And every one of those stories deserves to be remembered.

Service in the Shadow of Jim Crow

Lincoln School existed because Black children in Wheeling were denied the right to attend school alongside white children. Segregation was not simply a social custom. It was a system that determined where people could learn, live, work, travel, and participate in public life.

The same nation that educated these students in a segregated school later called upon them to defend democracy and freedom.

They answered.

They entered military service during periods when America’s armed forces were also segregated. Many Black service members trained separately, served in segregated units, received unequal assignments, and faced discrimination both in uniform and at home.

Yet they served anyway.

That truth should give us pause.

These Lincoln School alumni were willing to sacrifice for American ideals that had not yet been fully extended to them. They defended a country that too often failed to defend their dignity. They helped fight for freedom abroad while their families continued confronting Jim Crow at home.

Their service was patriotic, but it was also profoundly courageous.

More Than Names on a Page

The honor rolls include familiar Wheeling family names—names repeated across generations and still recognized within the community today.

Some surnames appear several times, reminding us that military service could touch multiple members of the same family. The World War I roll includes three members of the Thornton family and three members of the Lee family. The World War II pages contain repeated names from the Berry, Biddings, Cobbs, Coles, Cox, Ford, Harris, Jones, Kinney, Miller, Smith, Wallace, and many other families.

The World War II roll also includes names such as Alice Kilgore, Dorothy Jackson, and Vivian Johns, reminding us that the history of wartime service and sacrifice was not a story belonging only to men.

The name Thomas Stradwick also appears among the World War II honorees—a name with special resonance for a Foundation that carries the Stradwick family name.

These pages do not tell us everything we want to know. They do not identify every person’s branch of service, rank, assignment, unit, destination, or experience. They do not tell us who was wounded, who returned home safely, or who carried the physical and emotional consequences of war for the remainder of their lives.

But the absence of those details does not diminish their service. It challenges us to learn more.

Behind every typed name may be a uniform preserved in a closet, a photograph in a family album, a letter sent home, a military record, a newspaper clipping, a medal, or a story remembered by a child or grandchild.

Those fragments can help restore the human lives behind the honor roll.

The Sacrifices Continued After They Returned

For those who returned to Wheeling, coming home did not mean returning to equality.

They came back to a society where segregation and racial discrimination remained deeply embedded. They could wear the uniform of the United States, serve with courage, and risk their lives overseas—yet still confront barriers in employment, housing, education, public accommodations, and civic life.

Some returned to a community where their children continued attending segregated schools.

We should reflect on what that must have meant: to defend democracy abroad and then come home to continue the struggle for its full promise.

Their sacrifice therefore extended beyond the time they spent in uniform. It included the opportunities denied to them, the indignities they endured, the burdens carried by their families, and the long fight to secure greater freedom for the generations that followed.

Lincoln School Remembered Them—and So Must We

There is something deeply moving about the decision to preserve these names in the 1950 yearbook.

Lincoln School made space for its veterans within the record of school life. Surrounded by drawings representing academics, athletics, science, music, literature, and the arts, the honor rolls declared that these former students remained part of the Lincoln School family.

The yearbook’s creators understood something important: remembrance is a responsibility.

More than seven decades later, those pages still speak. They ask us to look beyond the printed names and recognize the courage, contradictions, and humanity contained within them.

They also remind us why preserving institutions such as Lincoln School matters. A yearbook is not merely a school souvenir. It can become an irreplaceable historical record—one that preserves evidence of people whose service may otherwise receive little recognition in the broader telling of American history.

Help Us Recover Their Stories

The Eugene and Beverly Stradwick Heritage Foundation honors every individual whose name appears on these pages.

But we do not want their stories to end with a name on an honor roll.

We hope to learn more about them: who they were, where they served, what they experienced, and what they did after returning home. We want to preserve their photographs, military documents, correspondence, newspaper articles, family memories, and oral histories.

If you recognize a relative or someone known to your family, we invite you to contact the Foundation. Your memories and materials could help transform a name on a page into a fuller account of a life.

Preserving these stories is about more than military history. It is about family history, Black history, Wheeling history, and American history.

These Lincoln School alumni served in a time when their country demanded their sacrifice but withheld their equality. They answered that demand with courage and dignity.

Today, the least we can do is say their names, preserve their stories, honor their service, and ensure that their sacrifices are never forgotten.

-T

Historical Terminology Note

This article includes historical terms such as “colored” and “Negro” when quoting original sources or identifying organizations as they were known at the time. These terms reflect the language and racial conditions of their era; their inclusion is not an endorsement of their use today.

In our own narrative, we use Black and African American, as appropriate. We preserve historical wording to document the past faithfully while honoring the dignity, humanity, and experiences of the people whose stories we share.