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Mary Carter Smith

Born on 2-10-1919. She was born in Birmingham, AL. She was accomplished in the area of Education. She later died on 4-24-2007.
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Mary Carter Smith was born in Birmingham, Alabama on February 10, 1919 and has resided in Maryland for 60 years. Smith is known nationwide for reviving and promoting storytelling as an art, as a teaching method, and as a form of communication.

As a teacher in the Baltimore City Public Schools for 30 years, Smith began her career in 1943 by telling and reading stories, singing songs, and writing and reciting poetry from the African heritage. In the early 1970's she decided to devote her full time to telling stories.

Inspired by the emergence of Black cultural expression of the 1960's and by her concern over misunderstandings among groups, Smith has dedicated her life to peace and humanity. As she explains in her statement of purpose:

"Misunderstanding abounds, It has no special resting place. Rich and poor, majority and minority, young and old, Black and White" all feel the sting of being misunderstood. And there are many people, using many ways, trying to lead us to a better understanding of each other. I am among those who fight misunderstanding. The weapons I use are stories, drama, songs, poetry, and laughter. I bring entertainment with a purpose.

Smith's extensive repertoire of stories poems and dramatic sketches has been developed through a recollection of experiences drawn from her native Birmingham, Alabama, from towns in Kentucky, West Virginia, Ohio, and from Baltimore Maryland. Her experiences as a teacher, librarian and activist as well as her extensive traveling experiences have also enriched her repertoire of stories.

Smith has served as hostess of Black Is, a Maryland Public Television Program, in 1973. She is the producer and presenter of a Saturday morning show Griot For The Young and The Young at Heart on WEAA-FM, Morgan State University, which existed for more than twenty years. She is a founding member of Big Sisters International, cofounder of the National Association of Black Storytellers, and a founding member of the Arena Players.

As a writer, she is included in the 1970 edition of Poetry of the Negro, in an early book of poetry Opinionated, and in the book Vibes. Other works include Town Child, Heart to Heart, an autobiographical book of poetry and prose, and she co-authored The Griot's Cookbook. She has produced several audio cassettes and two videocassettes, Tell Me A Story and Cindy Ellie.

Smith has been the recipient of numerous awards and honors including: the installation of her likeness in the Great Blacks In Wax Museum in Baltimore, Maryland, a proclamation from the National Association of Black Storytellers designating her Mother Griot (African folklorist), and a Lifetime Achievement Award from the National Storytelling Association (N.S.A.).

Mary Carter Smith's continued dedication to creating awareness, cultivating understanding, and promoting humanity, through her storytelling, has benefited children and adults alike in the State of Maryland, the United States and the world.

I am Peggy Brooks-Bertram and I knew Mary Carter Smith in my hometown, Baltimore, Maryland. I was one of the girls that she brought into her first Big Sisters club which met every week at her home. It was truly a wonderful experience. This early club later turned into Big Sisters International. I met her several other times in Baltimore and later when I had left Baltimore but returned on other occasions to see her. She was truly outstanding. I know she is sorely missed. She was truly extraordinary.

Peggy Brooks-Bertram

Copyright Maryland State Archives, 2001

National Association of Black Storytellers

Soliloquy to Mother Griot

By Beverly Fields Burnette



At the 25th Anniversary of our story gathering,

we set out an Ashanti stool for you.

You, in the flesh were not there,

but we saw your smile, felt your spirit,

knew the gleeful way you snapped our circle into place.

We saw you, “fairy queen,” in your diminutive stature,

yet, colossal in your boldness,

and in the bodaciousness of Zora!



We heard the words you'd always said,

and one by one we mounted the stage

that you and Sista Linda had set for us

a score and a half ago.



In silence, we bent knees to give you thanks

for the countless years of your giving,

for you gave, and FOR-gave

with a heart more infinite than others,

as you pardoned your absent father so many decades ago,

and the man who silenced your young mother

when you were only three

and the woman who senselessly snuffed out

your only son’s brief breath.



You were always fearless,

as you rose against the struggle and the heartache

to find precious “gilded bits” to share.



From Birmingham to Baltimore and beyond,

you brought your stories.

They were bigger than all of us,

and you tackled them;

found brilliant kaleidoscopes and rainbows

in the tears of life.



Your teachings went far beyond the classroom

that you held for thirty seasons,

and you envisioned each and every lesson

that you would share

when they dubbed you Mother Griot.



You stepped up with huge voice,

to master the masses with your African wit,

with Mother of Pearl wisdoms in poetry, song and story.

And even in your mounting years,

you danced and pranced

in your head wrap;

graceful and agile at eighty.

You flashed your whimsical wink

and shared a frisky frolic in the storytelling circle.



Then later, even as your eyes faded,

when your gaze was set for Glory,

and you saw the Master's summons,

you looked back from your bedside

to notice Bunjo and Baba Jamal,

two of the many strong beautiful black men

you said you'd miss.

and all of the story-bearers

who readied themselves,

to carry your cowtail switch,

and your peaceful message

beyond your resting place.

Mother Griot, your stories will survive.

They will revive us!

Your lessons will bring health,

and healing and hope

to a nation that clamors

for an answer to hold dear.



And now,

DANCE, Mother Mary!

Dance in the headdress,

which crowns your Queenly beauty.



Dance by the African tribal firelight,

to the resounding beat of the djembe drum.

Dance by the old-fashionedness

of a Warm Morning heater in Alabama,

whose hot coals still glow RED,

like the hearts that love you.



We climb tall hills behind you.

We Circle in your greatness,

and ride this storied journey

lit by the vibrant streak

of your radiant comet.

This poem was provided by Rudy Lewis at www.nathanielturner.com

November 29, 2007 Beverly Fields Burnette, a published poet, writer, storyteller, and School Social Worker in Raleigh, NC, is President of the North Carolina Association of Black Storytellers