STM Blog
The Black librarian who rewrote the rules of power, gender and passing as white
Deborah W. Parker, University of Virginia
“Just Because I am a Librarian doesn’t mean I have to dress like one.”
With this breezy pronouncement, Belle da Costa Greene handily differentiated herself from most librarians.
She stood out for other reasons, too.
In the early 20th century – a time when men held most positions of authority – Greene was a celebrated book agent, a curator and the first director of the Morgan Library. She also earned US$10,000 a year, about $280,000 today, while other librarians were making roughly $400.
She was also a Black woman who passed as white.
Born in 1879, Belle was the daughter of two light-skinned Black Americans, Genevieve Fleet and Richard T. Greener, the first Black man to graduate from Harvard. When the two separated in 1897, Fleet changed the family’s last name to Greene and, along with her five children, crossed the color line. Belle Marion Greener became Belle da Costa Greene – the “da Costa” a subtle claim to her Portuguese ancestry.
When banking magnate J.P. Morgan sought a librarian in 1905, his nephew Junius Morgan recommended Greene, who had been one of his co-workers at the Princeton Library.
Henceforth, Greene’s life didn’t just kick into a higher gear. It was supercharged. She became a lively fixture at social gatherings among America’s wealthiest families. Her world encompassed Gilded Age mansions, country retreats, rare book enclaves, auction houses, museums and art galleries. Bold, vivacious and glamorous, the keenly intelligent Greene attracted attention wherever she went.
I found myself drawn to the worlds Greene entered and the people she described in her lively letters to her lover, art scholar Bernard Berenson. In 2024, I published a book, “Becoming Belle Da Costa Greene,” which explores her voice, her self-invention, her love of art and literature, and her path-breaking work as a librarian.
Yet I’m often asked whether Greene mentions her passing as white in her writings. She did not. Greene was one of hundreds of thousands of light-skinned Black Americans who passed as white in the Jim Crow era. While speculation about Greene’s background circulated in her lifetime, nothing was confirmed until historian Jean Strouse revealed the identities of Greene’s parents in her 1999 biography, “Morgan: American Financier.” Until that point, only Greene’s mother and siblings knew the story of their Black heritage.
“Passing” can often raise more questions than answers. But Greene did not largely define herself through one category, such as her racial identity. Instead, she constructed a self through the things she loved.
‘I love this life – don’t you?’
In my view, any consideration of Greene’s attitudes toward her own race must remain an open question. And uncertainty can be acknowledged – even embraced – with judgments suspended.
The Morgan Library & Museum currently has an exhibition on Greene that will run until May 4, 2025 – one that’s already generated debates about Greene and the significance of her passing.
One section of the exhibition, “Questioning the Color Line,” includes novels on passing, paintings such as Archibald J. Motley Jr.’s “The Octoroon Girl,” photographs of Greene, and clips from Oscar Micheaux’s 1932 film “Veiled Aristocrats” and John M. Stahl’s 1934 film “Imitation of Life,” which portray painful scenes between white-passing characters and their family members.
None of these objects clarifies Greene’s particular relationship to passing. Instead, they place the librarian within melodramatic and conventional representations about passing that stress self-division and angst.
We don’t know – perhaps we will never know – whether Greene had similar moments of self-doubt.
Yet some critics have concluded as much. In his review of the exhibition for The New Yorker, critic Hilton Als laments what Greene’s passing had cost her. He describes her as a “girl who loved power,” a woman who “became a member of another race – not Black or white but alternately grandiose and self-despising.”
There’s a lot of certainty in such a pronouncement – and scant evidence furnished to support such declarations.
New York Times columnist John McWhorter takes issue with Als’s depiction of the librarian’s passing in a Jan. 23, 2025, article.
Citing passages from her letters in which Greene excitedly describes reading the Arabic folktales “The Thousand and One Nights” and seeing exhibitions of modern art, McWhorter asks readers to reconsider this “witty, puckish soul who savored books and art” and “had an active social life.”
What if Greene gave her race little thought, McWhorter wonders. What if she simply saw the notion of race and racial categorization as “a fiction” and instead lived her life to its fullest? Of course, her light skin afforded her the opportunity that other Black people of her era didn’t have. But does that necessarily mean that she was self-loathing or conflicted?
“[W]e are all wearing trousers and I love them,” Greene writes in one letter to Berenson, adding, “The Library grows more wonderful every day and I am terribly happy in my work here … I love this life – don’t you?”
Greene’s vitality captivated Berenson, who once described the librarian as “incredibly and miraculously responsive.”
The connoisseur was not the only contemporary who admired Greene’s effervescence. In “The Living Present,” an account of the activities of women before and after World War II, Greene’s friend Gertrude Atherton paid tribute to Greene, a “girl so fond of society, so fashionable in dress and appointments” that she could impress any stranger with her “overflowing joie de vivre.”
Crafting an aura
Viewed through a more expansive lens, Greene’s passing can be seen as part of an exercise in self-fashioning and self-invention.
Greene dressed to be noticed – and she was. Meta Harrsen, the librarian Greene hired in 1922, offers a rare eye-witness account. On the day Greene interviewed Harrsen, “she wore a dress of dark red Italian brocade shot with silver threads, a gold braided girdle, and an emerald necklace.”
Greene understood well the power of clothes to project a distinct identity – a highly crafted one in this case, and one befitting a connoisseur of rare books.
At that, she excelled. She became known for her stunning acquisition coups: her purchase of 16 rare editions of the works of English printer William Caxton at an auction; her procurement of the highly coveted Crusader’s Bible through a private negotiation; and her acquisition of the Spanish Apocalypse Commentary, a medieval text written by a Spanish monk that Greene was able to buy at a steep discount.
To me, a 1915 photo captures Greene’s confidence and aura more than any other image of the librarian.
She posed in her home and wasn’t shot in soft focus with a studio backdrop as other photographs tend to portray her. Sitting on the arm of a large chair upholstered in a tapestry weave, she wears an elaborate hat with a large ostrich plume, a high-necked blouse under a long, loosely belted jacket with a ruffled cuff over a long dark skirt. The decor is no less striking: Flemish tapestries decorate the walls behind her, and a liturgical vestment is draped over the bookcase. Looking directly at the viewer, Greene is assured and poised.
Greene’s stylish flair was not simply decorative. It was a testament to her vibrant personality and the joy she took in her work. Rather than judge her according to contemporary notions of racial identity, I prefer to marvel over her achievements and how she became a model for generations of future librarians.
Greene didn’t just pass. She surpassed – in spectacular ways.
Deborah W. Parker, Professor of Italian, University of Virginia
This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.
Rod's Pure Thoughts
Remembering Patrick Stewart: A Star Trek Journey Through My Life
Remembering Patrick Stewart: From childhood adventures with Kirk to finding another favorite captain in Picard, Rod Washington reflects on Patrick Stewart, the Next Generation cast, and the creativity they inspired.
From childhood afternoons with the original Enterprise crew to the reunion in Picard, Star Trek has been part of my life for decades. Patrick Stewart helped make that journey unforgettable.
Remembering Patrick Stewart
The news of Sir Patrick Stewart’s passing has me thinking about how much of my life has had Star Trek somewhere in the background—and often right in the foreground.
Star Trek: The Original Series has been my favorite since I was in single digits. Kirk, Spock, McCoy and the rest of that crew were part of my childhood. Long before there was a Captain Picard, that was my Enterprise.
Then came the motion-picture era with the original cast. The Wrath of Khan arrived during my teenage years. The Voyage Home followed in my young adulthood. As I grew up, those familiar characters kept coming back with new adventures.
Then we got a new Enterprise and a new generation.
A New Crew Earned Its Place
When Star Trek: The Next Generation began, my reaction was something like, “It’s okay.”
I continued watching. I was curious, but I already had a strong attachment to the original crew. That kind of connection takes time to build.
By the end of the first season, though, I was crazy about The Next Generation.
Patrick Stewart had a lot to do with that. His portrayal of Jean-Luc Picard gave me another captain to believe in. He had his own presence, his own way of handling a situation, and a way of making you listen when he spoke.
Eventually, Picard was on par with Kirk in my eyes. Coming from someone who had loved the original series since childhood, that says a lot.
From the Enterprise to First Contact
The series became an important part of my adult entertainment life. I cared about the characters and wanted to see where their stories would go.
After the television series ended, the TNG movies gave us more time with them. My favorite remains First Contact. It is the one that stands out most for me from that chapter of Star Trek.
Looking back, I can trace different stages of my life through these shows and movies: childhood with the original series, my teenage years with The Wrath of Khan, young adulthood with The Voyage Home, and then the years spent getting to know Picard’s crew.
That is a long relationship to have with a fictional universe. The people who bring it to life become familiar faces across decades.
Seeing Everyone Together Again
By the time Star Trek: Picard arrived, I was well into another chapter of my own life.
It was fun to see those familiar faces again, especially when the crew came back together. There was a lot of personal history attached to watching them share the screen.
Patrick Stewart and the rest of the cast—and yes, that includes Wil Wheaton—were an important part of my adult life as a viewer. Each contributed to a crew I grew to love.
Seeing them again brought back the feeling that had kept me watching all those years earlier.
Thank You for the Inspiration
What stays with me most is how much creativity those performances sparked.
As someone who enjoys filmmaking and storytelling, I appreciate entertainment that leaves me wanting to create something of my own. Stewart and his castmates gave me that feeling many times over the years.
His passing makes me appreciate the time we had with him on screen and the work we can return to. I can watch an episode, revisit First Contact, or spend another evening with the crew and remember why these stories meant so much to me.
The original series will always have that special place in my heart. Patrick Stewart helped another Enterprise crew earn a place there, too.
Thank you, Sir Patrick, for the years of entertainment, the inspiration, and a captain who became part of my life.
News Background
Stewart died October 28, 2026, at age 86, according to his spokesperson’s statement reported by Reuters. This entry is a personal reflection on his work and its place in my life.
Reader question: When did Captain Picard and the Next Generation crew win you over?
STM Blog
Golden Bird in Compton: When Mom Took a Night Off
Golden Bird in Compton was an occasional Friday or Saturday treat when Mom wanted a break from cooking. A personal look back at its Alondra Boulevard location and the memories that linger.
Some childhood meals stay with you for decades. For me, Golden Bird fried chicken in Compton is one of them.
Growing up in the Los Angeles area, an occasional Friday or Saturday meant my mom wanted a break from cooking. Those were the nights when takeout became a treat, and Golden Bird was one of the places I remember enjoying most.
The location on East Alondra Boulevard sounds like the one we visited. Researching it brought me to 2600 East Alondra Boulevard, Compton—an address listed in Los Angeles County records under Golden Bird #1.
An address can help place a memory on a map. But what I remember most is much simpler: the chicken was delicious, and getting it was a welcome weekend treat.
Part of Our Family’s Takeout Rotation
Golden Bird wasn’t our only chicken stop. Over the years, there was Pioneer, KFC, Church’s, Louisiana Fried Chicken, and later Popeyes. I also remember Jim Dandy from when I was very young, especially its crinkle-cut fries.
Each name brings back a different memory. Golden Bird brings me back to Compton and those evenings when my mother could take some time off from preparing dinner.
As a kid, I thought about enjoying the food. Looking back, I also appreciate what those meals meant for her: one less dinner to cook and a chance to take a break.
The History Behind the Address
Golden Bird’s own history describes a family recipe associated with Zelma and a wet batter designed to give the chicken a crisp outside while keeping the meat moist. My own memory is simply that I loved eating it.
The Alondra Boulevard location also connects to another chapter in Southern California’s fried-chicken history. Vincent Williams opened a Compton Golden Bird franchise in 1983, according to the Los Angeles Times.
A later profile described Williams developing his Honey’s Kettle concept in his former Compton franchise location. Honey’s Kettle dates its beginnings on Alondra Boulevard to 2000, and a 2012 restaurant visit documented its original location at 2600 East Alondra Boulevard. Those accounts point to a connection between the two businesses at that address.
I haven’t established who operated the restaurant during every year my family visited. But learning about its history adds another layer to a place I remember through its food.
A Weekend Memory Worth Keeping
For me, Golden Bird’s place in the story starts with family. It was an occasional treat, a meal I enjoyed, and a Friday or Saturday when Mom could let someone else handle the cooking.
Decades later, that is still a good reason to remember a neighborhood restaurant.
Editor’s note: Golden Bird is still serving fried chicken in South Los Angeles at 8300 South Western Avenue, at West 83rd Street. For those of us who remember it as a weekend family treat, it’s good to know the Golden Bird name remains part of LA’s food scene. Order pickup and delivery
Did you eat at the Golden Bird on Alondra Boulevard—or another Golden Bird location? Share your memories and favorite orders in the comments.
Explore more food stories in STM Daily News’ Food & Drink section.
For generations, the Santa Monica Pier sign has marked the start of a day at the beach. Now, the familiar blue neon landmark is preparing for a journey of its own.
Santa Monica scheduled removal of the 1941 sign for October 20–22, with shipment to Las Vegas anticipated October 26. The timetable is subject to change, according to the city’s October 19 announcement.
The temporary removal accompanies replacement of the aging bridge connecting Ocean Avenue to the pier. It also creates an opportunity to preserve the historic sign.
YESCO will restore it at its Las Vegas facility. The company’s experience includes work on the “Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas” sign.
Crews will repair neon tubing, treat rust, repaint components and address structural needs while retaining historic features. The sign will remain in secure storage during bridge construction.
Once the project is finished, it will return above the new bridge at a slightly greater height for visibility and vehicle clearance. The city’s latest announcement targets project completion by 2028, ahead of the Los Angeles Olympics and Paralympics.
Meanwhile, visitors can photograph a lighted, half-scale replica near Pier Burger.
For anyone who associates that glowing arch with Southern California memories, its absence will be noticeable. The restoration is intended to ensure future generations can make memories beneath it, too.
Source: City of Santa Monica — October 19, 2026 announcement
Related Links
- City of Santa Monica: Official sign restoration announcement — October 19, 2026. Primary source for removal dates, shipment to Las Vegas, YESCO’s restoration work and the sign’s planned return.
- Santa Monica Daily Press: Sign restoration during bridge rebuild — October 20, 2026. Additional local reporting on the project and visitor access.
- LAist: Sign removal and how to watch — Reporting on the removal schedule and public viewing opportunities.
Follow more Southern California stories at STM Daily News.
