// William Breman Jewish Heritage Museum
Jewish Heritage: The Oral Histories - Cuba Family Archives

MEMOIRIST:                        ALENE FOX UHRY (1909-2002)


DATE:                                  NOVEMBER 22, 1985

                                            MARCH 24, 1986

                                            SEPTEMBER 8, 1989

LOCATION:                           ATLANTA, GEORGIA

TRANSCRIPT ID:              10728

NUMBER OF PAGES:             50 pages

Transcript (PDF)


“When I was little, we lived in a house very near the [Atlanta-Fulton County] Stadium.  The Jewish people that we knew all lived in that area around the [Georgia State] Capitol, and on Washington Street, and on . . . all those places around the Stadium.  We knew all of our neighbors, Christian and Jewish alike.  It was really a small town.”    2, 3

“My mother, I guess by the religion of the day, thought of herself as being observant.  However, this was during the years following the [Leo] Frank case.  It seems to me as I look back . . . I never realized it then . . . a lot of Jews in Atlanta, particularly in the Reform congregation of the Temple to which we belong, went out of their way to be like everybody else. You always proudly said you were Jewish, but not too Jewish . . . I went to the Sunday school at the Temple.  I have absolutely no feelings about any religion that was spread there.  My mother went to services every Saturday morning.  She dragged me with her, but it never meant anything to me.  I think, in those days, we were trying so hard to be like everybody else.”    4, 5

“. . . life was . . . at least it was simple for us and my friends.  In the evening, a big thing to do was to play bridge with another couple, but never invite them for dinner.  They just came over in the evening.  Saturday night was a big night to go to the movies for 50 cents and get an ice cream soda for 15 [cents].  Those years, in retrospect, seem absolutely wonderful to me.  For one thing, we didn’t worry about money.  We didn’t have any to worry about.  We were so nonchalant, that our daughter was born in 1934.  She was always in the smallest class at school, because most people put off having children in those Depression years.  That tells you about those days.”  6

“My father, in the old days, was an amateur singer in all kind of . . . He loved music.  He was one of the first guarantors of the Metropolitan Opera when they started coming to Atlanta.  He loved the theater.  When I was quite young . . . the first time I went to New York, I was nine or ten years old.  Because of my father’s love for the theater, we went.  I saw lots of shows before I was ten years old, I guess.  The traveling shows that used to come here, we went to every one of them.  We had a little company here in Atlanta that we supported.  It was natural for me to be interested in the art museum and the [Atlanta] Symphony.  I still am on those boards.”  9, 10

Regarding the Leo Frank trial and lynching:

“At the time, in 1913, I was four years old.  I don’t think I had any feelings about that. When he was finally lynched, I was six years old.  The only thing I had feelings about was how upset everybody around me was.  The only memories I really have in those days was that my mother used to wait every afternoon for my father to come home.  I’d see him walk up the street waving a newspaper.  It had a big black headline on it.  That spelled doom for me, because I knew that was all they were going to talk about . . . was what was in that paper.”   11

“. . . when I was in grammar school, my best friend who lived next door was the daughter of a judge.  They were Christians.  We thought they were good friends.  One day, this lady came over to see my mother.  She said, “I have to ask you a question. I know it’s not true now.  I’m positive it’s not true, but somebody told me you were Jewish.”  My mother said, “Of course I’m Jewish.”  This lady said, “I don’t believe it. You’re too nice to be Jewish.”  I grew up in that kind of a thing.”  11

“My first time I knew different Jewish people in Atlanta, were the days when I worked on Jewish Welfare Fund, soon after I was married.  That was an eye-opener to me.  There were so many people like me, born in Atlanta, that I had never known before.  We had a lot in common.  I think today members of different congregations visit together in the temples and synagogues.  I think the Holocaust brought a lot of communities together.”   12

“The only time I was ever on a staff of a social agency was when I worked for the Community Council, beginning in 1963 . . . The Community Council was a planning organization chiefly financed by United Way.  It considered the social problems in the city . . . not only those connected with United Way agencies, but everything that was in the city . . . It was a wonderful experience for me . . . I really learned what went on in the City of Atlanta. Although I had lived here all those many years, I only knew one little segment of this city.  I met people from Perry Homes to the Piedmont Driving Club.  It was absolutely a wonderful experience.  I hated it when this organization had no money and had to close.”  14, 15                                              

“. . . my husband . . . always had a pencil in his hand.  He was making sketches on napkins and in lecture halls, and everywhere else.  His father had him take music lessons all his life, as he did his other children, because he loved music and was an amateur musician.  Ralph never had any art courses, ever.  When we were married, however, there was this little school at the present site of the [High] Museum and the [Woodruff] Arts Center . . . My husband went at night to the sketch classes, every Monday night.  He was the only man in the group.  In those days, ‘he-men’ in Atlanta, Georgia didn’t fool with painting. That never bothered him in the least.  He was a good athlete.  He didn’t care what was said about him. He enjoyed the work. Shortly after we were married, he asked me if I cared if he bought an etching press. We had a two-room apartment.  I envisioned an etching press like a typewriter.  I’d never seen one.  Lo and behold, this great big frame with metal pieces, grease cloths, and all this paraphernalia was put in our tiny little bedroom.  That’s the first I ever learned about etchings.”   18

“[Ralph] always had a hobby connected with art.  He belonged to the camera club and was an avid photographer. He sketched everywhere we went.  I have sketch books of things he did, and photographs.  He never really began to paint until the 1940’s when he was ill a lot of the time.  He was self-taught except for a few visiting painters who came to the then High Museum, which was certainly small in those days.  Dong Kingman, who’s now a recognized painter, was one of the men that started him off.  I have a painting in my house that Dong Kingman did. In the corner it says, “Sketched with Ralph.”  Ralph sketched the same place. When he saw Kingman’s he tore his up, but his was good. He spent all his spare time, Sundays, evenings and afternoons, painting.  He loved it. Watercolors were quick. He enjoyed doing them, but when he finished with them, he was finished.  He didn’t care about saving them.  I have fished many out of the garbage can and given them to my friends.  He would go over for a Sunday afternoon, sit in the yard and sketch a house.  Today, many of my friends have his paintings in their homes.  He was strictly an amateur.  He put a few things in shows at the Museum. . . Southern artist shows.  He never sold a painting, so he maintained his amateur standing.”  18, 19

Regarding her mother’s teaching career:

“She taught many people who later became prominent citizens.  She was always delighted about that.  Many of them kept up with her, as did Mayor Hartsfield, whom she called ‘Willie.’  She taught him in either the fifth or the sixth grade.  [She] didn’t remember a lot about what kind of student he was, so assumed that he must have been an average student.  She did remember that she liked him very much. She had a lot of pleasure.  I believe he was in one of the classes that she taught for two years.  She moved up one year with one group of children.  Those were the ones that she mostly remembered.  One of the students in her class later was Dr. [Charles] Glenville Giddings, whose father was our family doctor. After he died, my mother felt very strange about going to his son, whom she had taught at school.  She said, “How can I go to Glenville, when I taught him when [he] was a little boy?”  She finally did.  He treated her just like a relative.  She had many nice contacts from her school days.  As I said on the other tape, she never got over being a teacher.”   21

“She also used to tell me a lot of stories about the way the conditions were in the school.  It was supposed to be a very good school.  She said there was a bucket of water in the back of the room with a dipper. When the children were thirsty, they went [to] the back of the room and drank water. They all drank from the same dipper.  They didn’t seem to have any more problems with disease, so she said, as we did when we were doing everything to clean . . . when I was growing up, it was a fad to boil everything, sterilize it, and all of that. That tells a little bit about what kind of a place Atlanta was.”  21, 22

“I do remember my paternal grandfather, Herman Fox.  I loved him.  He died when I was 11 years old.  He used to read to me and play games with me.  The one thing that stands out in my mind is that he spoke with a decided German accent.  During those years, we didn’t like Germany.  In school, everybody used to stamp on the Kaiser [German: Emperor] and call Germans ‘Krauts.’  All that sort of thing.  I remember how I hated myself.  I used to come home from school with some friends.  I felt so bad, because I really didn’t want them to hear my grandfather talk.  I realized then that something was bad about being ashamed of my grandfather, who I loved.” 22

“My first job was when I graduated from college in 1930, in the Depression years. After majoring in psychology, I applied to Davison’s which was affiliated with Macy’s [and] had recently opened in Atlanta.  They were doing all kinds of new things, including having a personnel squad.  I applied for that job and got it.  I made $10 a week.  I remember my father said to me, “It’s a good thing you went to college.  Just think what you’d make if you hadn’t gone to college.”  My hours were 10:00 a.m. to 3:00 p.m.  It really was equivalent to other salaries that people made who worked all day.  They might have made $15 a week, or something like that.  We went for instruction for the first hour or two.  Then they would put us in different departments for a week.  I remember working in the infants’ department and the dress department.  I really didn’t like selling very much.  The end of my career came when I was put in the notions department.  They were taking inventory.  We had to count the spools of thread, and the needles and pins.  I thought, ‘I really didn’t go to college to be doing this.’  I’m afraid that that was the end of my retail career.” 25, 26

“My third living cousin is Helen Gortatowsky.  Her mother and my mother were sisters.  They were the nearest in age, and the closest ones.  Helen is four years younger than I am.  I guess I was closer to her than any of the others.  We used to play together all the time.  It’s really nice now. She and I can remember things together that I can’t talk about to anybody else.  One of the things I remember is that my mother used to always . . . it’s a wonder I even like her.  I told her that.  My mother used to make me always give up to her.  She used to say, “You’re four years older than she is.  Now give her the doll” or “Give her this.”  An incident that later amused us, but certainly didn’t then, [was] that my mother always made her birthday cake.  It was always an angel food cake.  One year, we were taking the cake to her.  My mother was driving the car.  I was holding the cake.  When I got out of the car, I dropped the cake on the street . . . It has a Freudian tinge to it, don’t you think?”   26, 27

“[Ralph’s] father came from Alsace when he was a man of 21 . . . we have a . . . little part of a diary that he wrote in later years about his trip on the train from New York to New Orleans [Louisiana], where his relatives lived.  He wrote that he saw two things on that trip that he had never seen before in his life.  One was a cotton field.  The other was a black man . . . He came from Alsace.  He had never been to Plaquemine.  He was on his way there. There were plenty of them in Plaquemine . . . plenty of ‘servants,’ as they were called.”  28

“Gone with the Wind . . . had come out in 1936.  I remember I used to go to a lending library at Sears Roebuck right on Ponce De Leon Avenue.  That building is still standing.  They had a good lending library.  The woman who ran it was named Ruth Carter.  I remember that because she would always call me when new books came in.  One hot summer day, she told me that they were going to have a tea for an Atlanta woman who had written a novel about the Civil War, and would my mother and I come to this tea on the next afternoon?  That was about the last thing I thought would be interesting . . . an Atlanta woman’s book about the Civil War.  Because of my friendship with the librarian, we went to the tea.  There was Margaret Mitchell, a dowdy-looking woman.  The book cost $3.00.  I remember that.  That was high, because most books were $2.00 and $2.50.  I felt that I had to buy a book.  I’m sorry to tell you that I bought the book, she autographed it, and I lent it to somebody.  I do not have it.  That’s the bad part of the story.  I took the book home.  This was about two or three weeks before publication.  It was this big thick book, I thought about the Civil War.  I really didn’t want to read it.  I put it on my night table.  I hadn’t heard a word about it, except at this tea.  I remember that my husband was in Chicago at the furniture market.  This was in the summer.  My son was born in December.  That’s why I hadn’t gone to Chicago.  One night I picked up that book.  I never went to sleep the whole night.  I read the whole thing.  The next day . . . this was before I’d ever heard of Gone with the Wind.  Within two weeks, everybody was talking about the book.”    28

“When the opening was coming, of course we were all very excited about it.  It was the biggest event I could ever remember in Atlanta.  I was young and stage-struck.  I was born in 1909.  I was 30.  We went to the ball the night before at the [Municipal] Auditorium, which is the armory where in the book Scarlett wore her widow’s black dress and danced with Rhett Butler.  Sure enough, Vivien Leigh was there in her black dress and she danced with Rhett Butler.  Clark Gable was here.  All the leads were here.  We gawked at them and looked at them.  People were talking for weeks about what they were going to wear to the ball.  Tickets, of course, were at a premium.  I don’t remember how we got tickets.  The people were standing outside watching everybody go in.  It was a big event.  The movie started the next night.  I did not go that night.  I think we went a couple of nights later to see the movie.  It was exciting and wonderful, we thought.  Later, when I’ve seen it on television, it just doesn’t seem like the same thing that I saw all those years ago.”  29

“I don’t remember imbibing any feelings for [Jewish holidays or traditions] . . . it’s just not in my memory if they ever had a seder supper.  They must have, but I don’t know about it. We didn’t. Occasionally, we’d be invited out for a seder.  My mother, when I was little, used to tell me about all the symbols.  In fact, she used to put them all on a little table:  the lamb bone, the parsley, and the salt water.  I never had the community kind of seder that we have now.  The reason we have it is, I guess, because of my grandchildren.  My daughter and son-in-law, with two other couples, started having seders together . . . at least 15 years ago when the children . . . maybe longer than that.  These three families, they used to be about . . . I used to go, and my mother went to some.  We used to have all those generations.”  32

“The Metropolitan [Opera] started coming to Atlanta when I was, I think, an infant. They stopped it during the First World War and the Second World War.  My father, who loved music so much, was one . . . of the original guarantors.  He and my mother had season tickets and used to go every night.  My mother started taking me to matinees.  I remember hearing [Enrico] Caruso . . . sing Martha, in a matinee, when I was nine years old.  I think I remember more hearing about it than actually the performance.  I was subjected to the opera.  It was a big social event . . . all written up in the paper like the small town that it was, with who wore what, who was there, and all the exclusive parties afterwards at the various exclusive clubs, to which Jews were not invited.”  33

“. . . opera week . . . was a big, big social . . . I think quite a few people went to these social affairs, and in between just went to the opera until the next party.  The first night of the opera, I think they used to have a party at the Capital City Club.  Not being there, I wouldn’t know for sure what went on.  I read in the paper in those days that all the singers who were in the opera were there.  It was a very gala, festive occasion.  Rudolf Bing became manager of the Metropolitan Opera.  The first season he came to Atlanta, Aida was the opening opera with Leontyne Price.  Mr. Bing let it be known that if all the cast was not invited to the party after the opera, nobody would come. It just so happened that when opera week rolled around that year, the Capital City Club was closed for renovation.”  35

“The [Atlanta] Symphony board used to meet at the [Piedmont] Driving Club.  As I say, in the beginning I never realized how bad that was.  I began to feel very uncomfortable at those meetings and thought it was wrong to have them there.  I just started not attending.  It struck me that that was a dumb thing to do.  Nobody knew why I didn’t come to the meetings.  I seemed like an uninterested board member . . .A very nice man, Charles Towers, was president of the Symphony board.  He was head of Shell Oil in this area.  One day I just decided that I was going to do something about that.  I called his secretary, made an appointment, and said I wanted to come to see him about a Symphony matter.  I went.  I told him my story.  He started off saying, ‘I grew up not being a member of any club.  My parents worked hard, and we were poor.  I never dreamed I’d have a position like this.  I guess it was just one of my dreams to know that I had risen to this position.’  I said to him, ‘No matter how hard my father or husband worked, they would never be allowed to join the Driving Club.’  He said, ‘I’ll be damned.  I didn’t know that.  That’s wrong.  If I were in your place, I would feel just as you do.’  I said, ‘Do you think you might be able to later change the meetings to the members’ room over at the Arts Alliance?’  He said, ‘No, not later.  We’re going to change the next meeting.’  He sent out notices right that minute that the meeting would be changed.  The meeting was set for two weeks and we would meet at the members’ room.  At that meeting, there were very few people in attendance.  At the Driving Club meetings, one of the men who was a member of the club would always act as host, and serve drinks after the meeting was over.  That didn’t happen at the members’ room.  For years, Charles Towers teased me.  He said I had reduced the attendance at Symphony boards by half.  But later . . . it did take a while, but later they got used to coming to the members’ room.  The people on the board now don’t know the difference.  They don’t even know about the other way.”  35, 36

“Rabbi Rothschild was a very active rabbi in the community.  The congregation, at that time I think up to a point, was quite proud of what he stood for. But some of the older members, the more conservative people, were afraid. They didn’t want him to be so outspoken. He was a co-chairman of the dinner that was given later for Martin Luther King [Jr.] and . . . it was later . . . it was in the 1960’s.  He reflected finally great glory on the Temple . . . but older people, many of them, tried to persuade him from participating.  At the time of the bombing, the community poured out sympathy to the congregation.  It was almost unbelievable the way the ministers . . . he had a good relationship with all the priests, the ministers, and the social workers in the community.  He always firmly stood for what I consider the right things.  Conservatives may not always go that far.  He was a strong believer in civil rights long before it became popular . . . in the days when it was a little bit conscience-shaking to some of the members of the congregation.  He was known in the community, really, as a fair, open-minded person who was very, very anxious to bring the various preachers, priests, and rabbis together.”  38

“In those days, I really think that Rabbi Rothschild was certainly leading the younger members.  By younger, I would say fiftyish down.  I do think some of the old ones, it was hard to break. They might have been for integration, but they didn’t want their rabbi to be in the forefront. There was always a feeling among Jews in Atlanta that I knew, ‘Be quiet.  Don’t call attention to yourself, [you’ll] get in trouble.’  That’s what they objected to later when Rabbi Rothschild was one of the co-hosts of the Martin Luther King dinner.”  39

“There had always been restricted neighborhoods . . . a gentleman’s agreement kind of thing. It was never written down.  I think in one of the last tapes that we made, I talked about how there was a swimming pool near me that was closed to Jewish children.  I don’t remember any . . . always you would read in the paper [about] cross burnings at Stone Mountain, where now I understand there’s a new Reform congregation.  Marietta, which they say ‘May-retta,’ is where little Mary Phagan [lived] who was murdered at the pencil factory, and [Leo] Frank was accused, you remember.  Marietta was a hot bed of antisemitism.  The [Ku Klux] Klan was not as strong in those days, openly, but they were still doing all their devilment.”  39

“ . . . [Alfred] came down a couple of months before they began to shoot.  He came out here and took a tape of me to send to Jessica Tandy. When she came, before the shooting . . . she came a month ahead for fittings and to find a place to live.  She came out here to see me.  She wanted to see family pictures.  Just by herself she came. They sent her with a driver.  She stayed here several hours and we just talked about . . . she asked me various questions and looked at pictures and all of that . . . of course ‘Miss Daisy’ is a fictional character . . . every word she says is certainly not my mother, but it’s a lot of my mother and a lot of her sisters and friends that are incorporated into her character.”  48


Alene Fox Uhry was born on September 2, 1909 in Atlanta to Lena Guthman Fox and Alfred Fox.  The family belonged to the Temple.  Lena went to college to learn to be a teacher and taught in Atlanta for 10 years, including the future mayor of Atlanta, William Hartsfield.  Both sides of the family originated in Germany but her mother was born in Atlanta and her father was born in Illinois.  Alfred was in the furniture industry and trade and owned a company called Fox Manufacturing Company.

Alene attended Sunday school at the Temple and her mother regularly attended Saturday morning services, taking Alene with her, otherwise the family was entirely assimilated and both parents were heavily involved in the cultural, artistic and civic life of Atlanta as well as in the Jewish community.

Alene went to Atlanta public schools including Girls’ High School, and then attended Wellesley College in Massachusetts, where she majored in psychology, graduating in 1930.  In 1931 she married Ralph Uhry, who was originally from near New Orleans, Louisiana.  They had two children: Ann [Abrams] and Alfred Uhry, now a well-known playwright.  Her husband continued in the furniture business, although his avocation was painting, photography and other artistic pursuits.

Alfred had a wonderful voice and through both of her parents Alene was exposed to opera, music, and theater from an early age.  Over the course of her life, Alene volunteered for many organizations including with the High Museum, Woodruff Arts Center, the Atlanta Symphony, the Jewish Welfare Fund, Child Services and Family Counseling Center, the Community Relations Committee, and others.

Alene’s daughter, Ann, married Edward Abrams and went on to obtain a PhD in Art History and a career in art appraisal and writing.  Alfred married Joanna (Jolly) Kellogg and has had a stellar career in the theater world with books and musicals (among others) including Ballyhoo, Driving Miss Daisy (also a movie), and Parade.  At the time of the interview Alene had seven grandchildren.


Alene discusses her childhood in Atlanta including getting a minimum Jewish education and her family’s general assimilation into the wider Atlanta community.  She recalls how her parents, who were very interested in the arts and music, exposed her to the cultural world of Atlanta. She recounts her mother’s career as a teacher and some of her more prominent students.  She recalls being part of a very close-knit but extended family and the conservative up-bringing she acquired, which heritage she reflects carried on into her own family and children.  She also recalls the small town life style of Atlanta in the 1920’s and 1930’s, its neighborhoods, ethnic communities, and growth and development.

She remembers how, as a young child, she was embarrassed by her family’s association with Germany (both sets of grandparents came from Germany) during periods of time when the word ‘German’ was anathema in the United States.  She also describes incidents of antisemitism, most of them in her adulthood, and most manifesting through exclusion from certain clubs and her uncomfortableness with meetings of her various organizations and institutions that were held at places like the Piedmont Driving Club.  She also recalls the tension surrounding the visits of the Metropolitan Opera, when Leontyne Price was performing, and where they would be able to stay.  Alene recalls the Jewish communities, the clubs, and separation between the various sects of Judaism, the attitude of Temple members towards Zionism and civil rights and the process of integration in Atlanta.

Alene shares her observations on Dr. David Marx and his approach to Reform Judaism and also discusses Rabbi Jacob Rothschild’s time at the Temple, his outspokenness, the Temple bombing in 1958 and the upwelling of the Atlanta community’s support, the Civil Rights Movement, the uproar over the dinner for Martin Luther King, Jr. after he won the Nobel Peace Prize.  Alene expresses her admiration for both men, for different reasons.

Although very young Alene witnessed the reaction of her family during the Leo Frank trial and lynching.  She remembers seeing her father coming home every day from work.  As he walked up the street he waved a newspaper, usually featuring a large black headline, at her mother.  This, Alene knew, meant general gloom in the household as that would be the only topic of conversation that evening.

She reminisces about being invited in 1936 to a tea to introduce a new author, Margaret Mitchell, and her novel set in the Civil War, Gone with the Wind.  Alene bought a book (she thought it was a little expensive) and set it aside.  When she did pick up it she found that she could not put it down.  Alene witnesses in detail the opening of the film in Atlanta, the balls (she was able to attend), parades, opening night, the stars and the showing of the movie.  Alene spoke about participating in the making of the film from her son Alfred Uhry’s play, Driving Miss Daisy, in Atlanta and her participation with various versions of the play here in the United States and England including the actors, costumes, and production.

Alene discusses her marriage, her husband’s many artistic talents, their friends and social life and mentions the education and careers of both her children, Ann and Alfred, and their children and recalls her husband’s artistic talents and her participation in community and Jewish activities such as Child Services and Family Counseling Center, United Way, High Museum, Atlanta Symphony Orchestra, the Atlanta College of Art, the National Council of Jewish Women and the American Jewish Committee.  She notes that her children, and now herself, have become much more observant of Jewish holidays. 


16th Street Baptist Church bombing, 1963

Abrams, Ann Uhry

Abrams Industries

Abrams, Edward

Ahavath Achim—Atlanta, Georgia

Aida (opera)

Alliance Theatre—Atlanta, Georgia


Atlanta—Growth and development

Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium—Atlanta, Georgia

Atlanta College of Art—Atlanta, Georgia

Atlanta Symphony—Atlanta, Georgia

Alsace-Lorraine (France/Germany)

American Council for Judaism

American Jewish Committee


Atlanta-Fulton County Stadium

Bar mitzvah

Birmingham, Alabama

Blumberg, Janice Oettenger Rothschild

Brown University—Providence, Rhode Island

Butler, Rhett (fictional character)

Capital City Club—Atlanta, Georgia

Caruso, Enrico

Civil Rights Movement

Civil War, 1861-1865

Community Council (United Way)


Crew Street School—Atlanta, Georgia

Davison’s—Atlanta, Georgia

Depression (Great)

Driving Miss Daisy (play and movie)

Druid Hills—Atlanta, Georgia (neighborhood)

Emory University—Atlanta, Georgia

Ferst, Helen Montag

Fox, Alfred

Fox, Herman

Fox, Lena Guthman

Fox Manufacturing Company—Rome, Georgia

Frank, Leo M.

Furniture industry and trade

Gable, Clark


Giddings, Charles Glenville (Dr.)

Girls’ High School—Atlanta, Georgia

Gone with the Wind (book and movie)

Guthman, Richard

Haas, Joseph

Harris, Julie

Hartsfield, William (Mayor)

High Museum—Atlanta, Georgia

Hiller, Wendy (Margaret) Dame

Holmes, Hamilton

Hunter, Charlayne




Jewish-Christian relations

Jewish-Jewish relations

Jewish Welfare Fund


Judaism—Fasts and feasts

Judaism—Rites and ceremonies

Judaism, Reform

Judaism, Orthodox

King, Martin Luther (Jr.)

Kingman, Dong

Knights of the Ku Klux Klan

LaGrange Female College—LaGrange, Georgia

Last Night of Ballyhoo (play)

Leigh, Viviam


McGill, Ralph Emerson

Maddox, Lester (Governor)

Marietta, Georgia

Marx, David (Rabbi)

Metropolitan Opera—New York City, New York

Mitchell, Margaret

Montgomery, Alabama

Murder trials



National Council of Christians and Jews

National Council of Jewish Women

New Orleans, Louisiana

Newnan, Georgia

Nobel Peace Prize

O’Hara, Scarlett (fictional character)


Opera singers



Parade (musical)


Peabody Normal School—Nashville, Tennessee

Perry Homes—Atlanta, Georgia


Phagan, Mary

Piedmont Driving Club—Atlanta, Georgia

Plaquemine Parish—Louisiana

Pulitzer Prize

Premieres, movie

Price, Leontyne

Public schools


Religious education, Jewish

Rothschild, Jacob (Rabbi)

Santacroce, Mary Nell

Sarah Lawrence College—Bronxville, New York



Smith, Hoke (fictional character)

Smithsonian Institution—Washington, D.C.

Standard Club—Atlanta, Georgia

Statue of Liberty

Sunday school

Tandy, Jessica


Temple—Atlanta, Georgia

Temple bombing, 1958—Atlanta, Georgia

Temple bombing, 1958, trial—Atlanta, Georgia

Theater profession

Towers, Charles

Tutankhamun (exhibition)

Uhry, Alene Fox

Uhry, Alfred

Uhry, Joanna Kellogg (Jolly)

Uhry, Ralph

United Way

Wellesley College—Wellesley, Massachusetts

White supremacy groups

Woodruff Arts Center—Atlanta, Georgia

Young Men’s Christian Association (YMCA)








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This website is supported by a generous gift from the Jerry and Dulcy Rosenberg Family in honor of Elinor Rosenberg Breman.

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