if nancy saunders had her way, his story would have left. she found the tale embarrassing and raw. the year was 1961 and black and white people i a like wanted to know were the light skinned brothers black or white. had they really been trapped in a cage and force today eat raw meat. they deserved respect and not the gawkers that came at their house all hours knocking on the front door, some of her first memories people banging on the door the middle of the night. by the time i came on the scene, no one talked about circus greats, nancy, a no frills afro, at the temples and baked bread as good as her great-grandmother's harriet as cake. and even red who knew the family well and grew up in the neighborhood around the corner from the muses and is now a social sciences professor, he had never contemplated bringing the subject up with them. that's one exceptionally guarded family, he told me, you've got to take baby stems. you have to think of them as a tribe, they fallout with each other, but if you fall out with one of them, they will come roaring back at you like an army. it was ten