Memories of Connie

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A memory of my Aunt Connie I will never forget… My brother, Walker, and I were visiting her in Atlanta when we were around 12 and 9. While renting VHS tapes at Blockbuster, the check-out clerk said something like, “How nice of your grandmother to rent you some movies."


Connie thought this was so funny because in her eyes she was much too young to be our grandmother. But I think she was also tickled by the thought of us being her grandchildren because she sure did love us. I can still hear her chuckle today as I think about this memory and countless other times spent with her. She truly had a signature laugh and was always ready to tell her nephews—or anyone within earshot—a dirty joke.


Even in her later years she kept her wits about her and didn’t lose her sense of humor. But underneath that laughter was a strong, determined woman and a champion for civil rights and equality. She cared deeply for those fortunate to be in her circle, as well as those she had only just met.


I will miss her, but I know her memory will live on in my heart and the hearts of so many others. I like to think she’s holding Mae Bertha’s hands in heaven now…


Our family is collecting stories, memories, and photographs to commemorate Connie. I hope that after reading this you’ll consider sharing a story or two of Connie that stuck with you as well.

                                                                                                                                                          — Coran Hendry, nephew

She came to speak when I was a student at Agnes Scott College taking a class with Dr. Kent Leslie. From that moment on I wanted to go back to Mississippi. Years later I went with Shelia Turner and Lynn Marshall-Linnemeier and met some of the people Connie spoke of in the class. She was an awesome woman. LOVE.
                                                                      — Simone Bell
 I'll be brief. Connie Curry was many different things to many different people. For me, she was a window. She was a window into what was real. Her real-life was a life that I had only read about and seen pictures of. I'd never met a civil rights icon and when I first met Connie I didn't know I was meeting one. Riding around in a VW at night doing civil rights organizing in Mississippi was real. Her relationships with people I had only read about were real and led to connections to Bob Zellner, Chuck McDew, and other people who had been through the crucible of creating change. A good writer and great storyteller her understanding of how change happens was real. Funny, fierce, principled, battle-tested, Connie Curry was Connie Curry and the nation and it's people is better for it. And oh, she might have seemed a little stubborn to those around her from time to time.
                                                                           — Tom Kohler
Seeing my photo of Connie strumming her guitar used on this memorial page makes me happy. It was taken in 1973 or 1974, when she was at Winifred Green's house on The Prado in Atlanta. Connie spent her 40th birthday night with me in Montgomery, and it was a memorable evening. She was special, and her friendship was a gift.
                                                                           — Penny Weaver
What a remarkable woman who stayed the course of social justice in her heart, mind, spirit and everyday practice. I will contact my network of librarians to order her books. May her legacy serve as another guidepost along the road to FREEDOM.
                                                                            — Daphne Muse
Connie and I met in the early 1990s at a trivia night. We were the only people in the room who knew the author of Christopher Robin stories. We got chatting and I tried to see her every time I came from Melbourne, Australia to visit friends in Atlanta. We were good mates and solved world political issues in cafes and at the homes with the McCaas and Lisa Rogers. I will miss her wit, intelligence and passion for making a difference. A great person, defender of human rights and a true American legend. Bit sad sitting here in Australia. Love to all those close to her. 
                                                                      — Simon Le Plastrier
Connie and I met more than 20 years ago at an NEH Institute on Teaching the Civil Rights Movement. She visited my classes, contributed to an anthology I edited, and most important provided me with a great model of activist living.                                                                     
                                                                     — Julie Armstrong 
I always loved getting the chance to spend time with Connie. Sometimes I would see her at Southern Historical Association meetings where she would invite me to dinner and I'd get to meet some of her friends, like Susan Glisson. She came to Emory to share her insights on her Silver Rights book for a group of us traveling to Mississippi on a Journeys of Reconciliation trip in the early 2000s. And, in 2010, I had the privilege of driving her to Columbia, South Carolina, for a conference on the South and the 1960s that Prof. David Synder organized. She was always so welcoming bringing you into her life through her stories. I especially remember her telling me about the beautiful birds she would see at her cabin on the coast. She left a legacy of deep commitment to a life well lived making the world a better place through her actions—supporting SNCC, working with the AFSC, writing books to tell us about people we needed to know. Many blessings to you dear Connie and all of her family.           
                                                                  — Susan Y Ashmore
The first time I met Connie was at her house in Atlanta on a visit with Annie in 1979. Several schoolmates from Mercer were allowed to go and meet Connie and Jane Fonda, her house guest. Connie was very nice to all of Annie’s friends. I remember her smile. I knew at that meeting that she was a very intelligent woman, an activist that cared about people, not just for making herself a name, and that she loved her little sister.                                                — Jeanmarie Collins
Connie was someone whose presence made the world a better place, and I’m sorry she’s gone but grateful for her life. I met her at All Saints', and quickly recognized her integrity and sense of rectitude. She was also a good writer, who could compose not only a good book but a good paragraph, a good sentence. I used examples from her book Silver Rights in my classes. One of her sentences, which was about a whip-poor-will’s call, was on my grammar class’s final exam, for students to diagram (they also diagrammed sentences from Milton, so Connie was in good company). She was diligent to do the right thing, both as a human being and as a writer. May she rest in peace and rise in glory.                                                                      — Malinda Snow
We were Myrtle Street neighbors of Connie back in the early/mid 90's, just before the Olympics came to Atlanta. Connie was in the middle of writing Silver Rights, and many were the nights of neighborhood gatherings on her back deck, or any deck that would accommodate the family that we were. Connie (RIP), Linus, Polly (RIP), Sue, Lisa, Nick, John, Dan, Marc, and us. Beautiful memories that always bring a smile to our faces. Thank you, Connie. May your spirit soar in the heavens.                                            
                                                 — Kurt Baird & Ramon Rodriguez
 I lived next door to Connie on Myrtle Street for about four years in the early 90's. From the moment I moved in, she and I connected. I cannot count the number of evenings we sat on her back porch enjoying each other's company and the company of other neighbors who would stop by. I moved away in 1994, and never saw her again, but have thought about her hundreds of times. I would even drive by her house when I was in Atlanta and think about the wonderful evenings I spent there. I now regret not stopping in to say hello on those visits back to Atlanta. I am grateful for the friendship we shared!                                                                                                                                    — Lisa Eyster
 I was one of those white Southern college students, a bit younger than Connie who got involved in the movement around 1964. After I dropped out of U.Va. to work full-time in the movement in 1966, my first job was with the USNSA Southern Project, where Connie had worked a few years earlier. Afterwards, I was on Southern Student Organizing Committee (SSOC) staff and chairman of that organization. I can't count the number of times I ran into Connie at various conferences, or in Atlanta at mutual friends' houses. I always learned from her wisdom and experience. She had a way of giving advice through stories, often delivered with a charming and unique blend of humor and smiling eyes. She was a trailblazer for so many of us, and she was a constant reminder that working for justice demands commitment and compassion, as well as a laughing and loving heart. She is missed.                                                                                                     — Tom Gardner
Thank you my dear and loving friend for being there and helping me to get out the State of Georgia. I can never repay you for what you done for me. When I needed someone to help me, you came out of the blue to my rescue. We were to meet in that way. I am in grief but happy that there was someone holding your hand when Almighty called you. You are a great person and I am blessed to have met you. I will always remember you when I help others like you told me to do to repay you for my debt. I helped a couple families and did tell the last Prime Minister of Guyana about you and why I helped those families. I love you.                                                                                — Derek Godette
Connie was an amazing woman who left quite an impression on me at a young age. I had the pleasure of spending a few family vacations with her at her beach house. The days were spent enjoying family and friendship in her beautiful home. I remember listening very intently of the stories she shared on ensuring equality and understanding at 8 years old that it was very important that I take a stand. I am forever grateful for the influence she had on my life and hope to honor her by ensuring that my kids not only understand the importance of equality, but also ensure they know how to navigate the world to make a difference. Cheers to a truly amazing woman.                                                                                                                                                                     — Bessie Jay
 Thanks for getting us started here, Coran…My first thoughts go to Mae Bertha as well. I imagine that in Connie’s early Freedom Fighters’ work, Connie was transformed simply by being in the presence of Mae Bertha, as much as Mae Bertha’s life was influenced for GOOD by Connie’s work.
Thanks to Connie’s sister, Ann, in our home we have a huge, beautiful, framed close-up photo of Mae Bertha. Every morning I wake up and I am greeted into the day by Mae Bertha, looking deep into me, reminding me of my strength, bringing me, with her intense yet soft expression, a steadiness, a calm, and a provocative sense of resolve. Maybe when Mae Bertha & Connie were together, it was like looking into a mirror as each woman gazed upon the other: Two creative catalysts for constructive change, disturbing the world merely by being seen and by being heard. Their voices made a joyful noise, beginning to shake loose even just some of those prevailing chains imposed by this nation’s Original Sin.
"Don't you let nobody get you down." – Mae Bertha
As I reflect upon the following quotes, I feel Connie's Spirit flowing though them all. They could have had Connie, and how she lived her life, in mind as these writers reflected upon her passionate and purpose-filled life:
"There is something in every one of you that waits and listens for the sound of the genuine in yourself. It is the only true guide you will ever have. And if you cannot hear it, you will all of your life spend your days on the ends of strings that somebody else pulls.” –Howard Thurman (An African-American author, philosopher, theologian, educator, and civil rights leader. As a prominent religious figure, he played a leading role in many social justice movements and organizations of the twentieth century…someone who I imagine Connie knew!?…and if so, HE knew that NO ONE was pulling Connie’s strings!)
"I slept and dreamt that life was joy. I awoke and saw that life was service. I acted and behold, service was joy." - Rabindranath Tagore
"Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand and melting like a snowflake...” – Francis Bacon, Sr.      
"One of the great liabilities of history is that all too many people fail to remain awake through great periods of social change. Every society has its protectors of status quo and its fraternities of the indifferent who are notorious for sleeping through revolutions. Today, our very survival depends on our ability to stay awake, to adjust to new ideas, to remain vigilant and to face the challenge of change." – Martin Luther King Jr., 1929–1968
CONNIE. WAS. AWAKE.                                                                                                                                                 — Ron Sepielli

A Life Full of Meaning: A message from Tee and Louis with the Atlanta Chapter of


A couple of us in our chapter knew Connie on and off for several decades. Her most striking characteristics were her feisty spirit, humor, generosity and honesty. She had a huge heart and deeply cared about all of humanity, with a burning love and respect for Black people. She embraced many efforts and organizations working to better the world, even if they were highly controversial.


We met Connie in the late 80’s when she participated with us in an organization called Refuse & Resist! Its focus was to sound the alarm and organize resistance against Reagan’s right-wing “Resurgent America.” We stayed in touch through the years. Fast forward to the 2016 election of Trump - Connie was one of the signatories of the original Call to Action of – an organization dedicated to stopping the American fascism being ushered in by the Trump/Pence Regime.


A quick story: when Atlanta was preparing our contingent for a recent annual Gay Pride Parade, she offered her porch for us to make large banners. She told us about participating in the first Gay Pride march in Atlanta, recalling how daring it was for everyone who participated, and described how some within the march wore paper bags over their heads to hide their identity.


Connie was an inspiration. She was deeply loved and will be dearly missed. We are so appreciative to have known her. She was a fighter her whole life and never gave up. We should all live like Connie!

                                                                                                                                                                    — Lisa Rogers

When I think of Connie, first I remember the sound of her laughter. She loved telling jokes, especially any joke she heard from Julian Bond. Her bawdy sense of humor was a thing of joy. Her joy was a thing of joy.


I think of how much she adored Walker and Coran, her love for Ann and for family both present and absent, and how much joy they brought her.


I think of cats. Never did anyone love cats more. I’m going to believe that she’s reunited with the lot of them now. It would make her happy. She had her own nine lives – each one of them larger and busier and more storied than most of us ever experience in a single go round.


I think of late nights and a lot of wine, our little Myrtle St. universe full of crazy wonderful people, the, raucous neighborhood parties and gatherings of every sort – cat wakes, of our travels together – Mississippi Delta to the beaches and volcanoes of Costa Rica, her Hunting Island beach cottage – gone with the waves.


I think of all the amazing people she introduced me to, of her capacity for reinvention, for love, for justice. How every loss in her life she felt deeply and enduringly. How mighty she was and how fragile. She was an inspiration. She was a frustration. She was an extraordinary woman. She seemed eternal to me. Like so many others, having her in my life changed my life. I could not be more grateful. I wish I could think of something funny to say right now, but I’m fresh out of jokes so she’ll just have to put it on my tab, and I’ll pay up when I see her.

 I met Connie Curry in 1971 at Thanksgiving in Seminole, Florida. Connie and her sister Eileen’s arrival for holidays and special events was always full of excitement. Connie and Eileen came home to their father’s house (he had passed away a year or two earlier) and family for most holidays. The blend of Irish, English, and Chilean families provided for lots of traditions, festivities, and joy. Connie was the older sister of Annie Curry. My heart was and is strongly tied to Annie, Isabel, and Philip.
I was 17 when I met Connie and saw her frequently for the decade of the Seventies. Connie was exceptionally bright, had a unique and contagious laugh and was highly charismatic. At the time I met her I was reveling in being a part of the Curry-Holloway clan. At that time, Connie was deeply embroiled in civil rights, women’s rights as well as arts and culture. I am relieved that over the past few Christmas cards and an email or two, I’ve told Connie how grateful I am to have been heavily influenced by her at a young, naïve and impressionable age.
I recall that when Connie came to town, there was always great excitement and activity. We traveled to Atlanta to visit her often and were exposed to people who were involved in local politics. This was the first time in my life that I began to question and form my own opinions. She had a hand in opening my world to international travel, literature, the arts, and culture. I remember once Connie scored some tickets to go to New Orleans to see the Tutankhamen exhibit. On a complete whim with only one day’s notice, I flew with her, Annie and Philip, to New Orleans. It was one of the first really well-presented art exhibits I had ever seen. I was mesmerized and have been a museum-goer ever since. Connie made all kinds of plans for our group, which was her way. I fondly remember several trips to her beach cottage that included family beach walks and meals together. Years and distance separated me from the clan I so loved and learned from.
I believe Connie had a wild ride through life with some of the highest highs, and I suspect lowest lows. She could cast a spell upon those around her, and I will always be grateful that I was under her spell for many years.
                                                                                                                                                                                            — Mindi Lewis
 The year was 1951. As an introvert, I was not adjusting well to freshman year at Agnes Scott College and was living in a single room. On the other hand, Connie Curry was everywhere on campus, wowing and wooing everyone with her energy and extraverted personality. She easily won Miss Hey Day, the contest to see which freshman could meet and remember, in a single day, the most people on campus. Who knows why—but thank god—Connie took me on a roommate and we bonded with Gorilla glue. Living for four years with a dynamo who excelled at anything she undertook—from rigorous studies to campus politics to extracurricular activities—was a marvel to behold and taught me a lot. Best of all, Connie was fun to be with. She laughed often and easily and loved silly jokes and country music.
In the Agnes Scott years, Connie’s innate leanings toward inclusion and social justice burst into bloom. After graduation, working in Atlanta with the Quakers, she was in the right place at the right time when the Greensboro sit-ins by college students ignited the silver rights revolution. I count myself blessed that Connie gave me a job when I left the Navy, as this allowed us to build precious memories around unforgettable moments of history: the rise of SNCC, the nonviolent guidance of MLK, Jr, and the wisdom of Lillian Smith, an icon of social justice, shared with movement youths from atop Screamer Mountain in North Georgia.
Connie and I drifted apart in the last two decades. But it was not a drift that extinguished our bond. Whenever we did meet up or communicate, we picked up where we left off. It’s easy to friend someone if what you see and know is all or mostly positive. Connie and I knew the depth, size, and number of each other’s secret warts and yet loved on through the years. I will miss her.
                                                                                                                                                                                            — Donna McGinty
 When I first met Connie, I was ignorant about life. Connie was director of the Southern Student Human Relations Project of the US National Student Association. I was a moderate Southern college student with an interest in "race relations" but only beginning to have some interracial experiences, primarily through opportunities provided by the South Carolina Student Council on Human Relations (SCSCHR). Though there were private, independent Councils on Human Relations in most Southern states, the one in South Carolina was unique in engaging college students. This effort was in anticipation of the desegregation of higher education in the state, seeking to foster cross-racial relationships among college students. Though I was ostensibly a graduate student in History at the University of South Carolina, my primary interest was avoiding the draft and seeking clues about what to do with my life. I had no idea. One aspect of Connie's work was visiting Southern college campuses and identifying and nurturing students who had demonstrated some commitment to civil rights. Because I was involved in the SCSCHR and had participated in a lunch counter sit-it in downtown Columbia, SC, I came to Connie's attention.
When I lost my teaching assistantship following the sit-in, Connie intervened with the USNSA to provide me some financial assistance. Thereafter, Connie and I stayed in touch. As I became more interested in a career somehow related to civil rights, I became less interested in my graduate studies. With no idea how to pursue such a career, in 1963 I left USC without a graduate degree, moved to Washington DC and entered a foreign service training program. After only six months, one day I received a telephone call from an officer of the US National Student Association. He told me that Connie was leaving her position to work with the American Friends Service Committee (AFSC), and asked if I would be interested in applying to take her place; clearly, Connie had recommended me. I jumped at the opportunity and got the job. I moved to Atlanta and led the SSHRP for two years. But I had never directed anything and was not able to fill the very big shoes Connie left behind.
When funding for the Project ended, I had no idea what I would do next. As always, Connie was in my corner. She alerted me that AFSC was expanding its School Desegregation Task Force and looking for someone to staff its work in South Carolina. She arranged for me to be interviewed for the job. I got it, moved back to SC and worked for AFSC from 1966 to 1982. That led me to another 16-year job with a New York-based foundation. Through those years, Connie and I had intermittent contact but remained friends, even after she left AFSC to seek a law degree, work for the city of Atlanta, and become an author. She was always interested in what I was doing and my family, even though we were on different tracks. To me, Connie was what I call "an agent of grace," that is, put in my path to turn me towards God's largest possible intention for who I was supposed to be and what I was supposed to do.For that, I am grateful beyond measure. Thanks be to God.
                                                                                                                                                                                           — Hayes Mizell
I first met Connie Curry in the pages of My Soul Is Rested, in an interview she did for Howell Raines. Then I met her in person at the 1993 annual meeting of the Southern Historical Association. A year later we reconnected at another SHA convention where I informed her that I had found letters by Mae Bertha Carter, the woman at the heart of what later became Connie’s terrific book, Silver Rights. After that we permanently bonded. For more than two decades I was part of that famous organization, Friends of Connie (FOC). Yes, I was a friend of Connie’s for the rest of her life, but I don’t want to overstate my qualifications. FOC has more than a million members and at best I was a mere private in that grand non-violent army.
My memories of author Curry center around her teaching in my classroom, hanging out in our Baltimore home where she became buddies with Pumpkin the cat, and dining together at history and civil rights conferences. With the students, Connie offered both enthusiasm and knowledge. She made lasting impressions on these kids, as did her book on the Carter family. She gave a wonderful speech one time to a crowd of over 200, memorable also because she kept these junior and senior boys awake, not an easy task. That evening event culminated with Mrs. Mae Bertha Carter getting the lads to sing freedom songs with her.
At conferences Connie was a small d democrat. She was a genius in juggling time with scholars, activists, and even one Baltimore high school instructor. None of us ever felt short changed. She was a commentator for two papers I presented and chaired one of my sessions. I especially enjoyed working with her on a book committee for the Organization of American Historians. Connie knew how to run a committee.
Others have written about Connie’s work for NSA, for SNCC, for the American Friends Service Committee, and for the city of Atlanta. She was a legend. But Connie was equally proud of her Ph.D. that she had obtained from the Atlanta Comedy College. She told great jokes and her humor was so infectious. Connie Curry was truly good people. I miss her.
                                                                                                                                                                                     — Jerry Thornbery
I am so sorry to hear of Ms. Curry's passing. She had a tremendous impact on me. I first met Ms. Curry in 1997 in Baltimore. She and Mrs. Carter visited my high school, per the invitation of my teacher, Jerry Thornbery. These two powerful women delivered a stirring address about the power and capacity of ordinary men and women to affect meaningful change; they led us in song; and they implored us to "keep our minds stayed on freedom."
I don't doubt that the soul of my calling to be an educator was enriched that day by the in-person presence and wisdom of Ms. Curry and Mrs. Carter -- and by the courage and resolve of the whole Carter family. I reached out to Ms. Curry in 2011, and also to Mrs. Gloria Carter Dickerson. I shared with them that SILVER RIGHTS was the only book I took with me to college at UVa. It continues to sit on my bookshelf, right alongside Dr. King and Gandhi.
God speed, Ms. Curry. I will always be grateful for you.
                                                                                                                                                                                                  —Chad Prather
Peace be unto you; Imam Jamil Al-Amin (formerly known as H.Rap Brown) conveys his condolences and prays that the family find comfort that the reward of righteousness does not go unrewarded...May Allaah grant you peace.
                                             — Imam Jamil Abdullah Al-Amin
Such an awesome woman. I remember her and my girlfriend playing connect four at Gs where they kept her, her own board game behind the bar. She never wanted my girlfriend to let her win. She was a great sport. Such a kind and strong woman.
                                                                                 — Emma
Before I met Connie, Jennifer and I met her beach house that held on for so long. We learned its history and struggle to be and then saw it struggling to survive nature and changing times. We fell in love with Connie through her home and the legacy of her life and times and that of her beach escape too. We had good times with our pets there, pretending Connie had loaned it to us for the day. As The Cleaning Elves, we like to think we did our spiritual part to keep it the happy place it had been and like Connie, wished hard on saving it somehow. Alas, we could not and knew that while our hearts were broken, her's was so much more. I still think of her each and every time I go to Hunting Island with my dog and depending on the tide, am often greeted by pieces of her beach house embedded in the dunes or down in the water. Its uncanny but makes me smile and sad all of the same time. Something tells me that like her house refusing to leave or vanish entirely, Connie will stubbornly haunt that corner of the island forever and a day.                                                                                                                                        — Shannon Scott
I lived above Connie on Myrtle for several years. What a brave, compassionate, intelligent and yes, fiery soul she was, even as I knew her in her 80’s. She usually had a joke to share with me when we’d meet out on the front porch, usually dirty. Reading Silver Rights and learning of her influence and impact on the Civil Rights Movement and school desegregation in the Deep South was, simply, inspiring. I know her health in later years was a constant frustration for her, as her mind just wanted to go go go. I wish I could have seen you again in Atlanta, Connie. I will always keep my memories of you and Myrtle close to my heart. Ann, sending much love love to you and your family. Rest In Peace and Power Connie. I will raise a glass to you at the corner bar next time I’m in Atlanta. Xoxo                                                                                                             — Collin Ellingson
I worked at a Civil Rights organization in Atlanta a few years after finishing my BA at Agnes Scott and a friend, Jillian Wells had more recently completed her degree at Agnes Scott and was working there. We collaborated by putting on a few events on campus including one with our fellow Agnes Scott Alum, Constance Curry! Connie shared her stories of involvement in the civil rights movement with us that day and the importance of friendships and the connections she made with different people in the movement that she had maintained over the years like Julian Bond who had also been with SNCC. I appreciated so much that she took time to share with us her experiences and her wisdom.                                                                   — Leigh Craigmyle
I am so grateful for and proud of Connie Curry. She came back into the Carter family's life just when we were ready to tell our story. I was and still am excited about her authoring of the book, "Silver Rights". She was instrumental in recording a piece of history that would not have happened if it was not for her care, concern, and patience for the family. She and my Mom, Mae Bertha Carter were good together and loved each other. On behalf of the entire Carter family, including all of her descendants, those living now and those to be born, I am thanking Connie for giving this family the civil rights history that will live in perpetuity.                                                                                               — Gloria Dickerson
I first had the pleasure of meeting Connie 15+ years ago. Connie truly believed in equality for all regardless of race, sex, gender or sexuality. Connie and I spoke mostly about the movement and her great friendship with my cousin Ella Baker. I will truly miss Connie’s great hugs and fantastic stories.                                                                                                                   — Charles Goodbee Jr.
Emma and I are deeply saddened by the passing of our dear friend Connie.
I first met Connie in the early 1980’s after I became Executive Director of Penn Center. By then Connie had been a 20-year veteran in the Civil Rights Movement. I would get to know and sincerely admire her over the next nearly twenty years. We visited together often as she owned a cottage at Hunting Island Beach State Park about 10 miles east of Penn Center. I quickly recognized that she wore peace and justice and generosity on her sleeves. She welcomed friends to spend time at her Hunting Island cottage (they only had to ask for the keys) until it was washed away by the ocean. But Connie never missed a beat in her support of Penn Center and my work as she became a dedicated member of the Penn Center Advisory Board. Her concerning voice for the center to continue promoting equity was always loud and clear, even when hers was sometime alone.
I know I join many when I say Connie will be sorely missed for her contagious vision and courage. Most important her steady leadership endured through a treacherous Civil Rights journey. And I will always cherish the memory of her friendship and my autographed copy of her book, Silver Rights.                                                                                — Emory S. Campbell
I will never forget when Ann was recovering from her hip surgery, we were just hanging out when the elevator door to the apartment opened up and to Ann's great surprise, in marches Connie with her suitcase. It was funny but it was mostly a testament to the love and devotion Connie had not just for her beloved sister, but all people. She will be missed but I will always smile when I think of her.                                                                                                                                           — Arlene Meyer
Connie was one of three field staff for AFSC that I describe in my soon to be published Memoir as “guardian angels” for the Bracy Family following the firebombing of our home on Jan. 1, 1966. I am so grateful to have been able to read this paragraph from my book when we spoke by telephone on her final day at Manor Care Decatur. On behalf of the Bracy Family, we share our condolences with the Curry Family. Your Sister, Aunt, Cousin, along with Addie Ringfield and Winifred Green, will forever be remembered as a source of courage and hope for our family and many other families in the fight for equal justice and dignity, at a time when it was at great risk to their lives. Rest In Peace dear Friend.
                                                             —Sophia Bracy Harris
I’ve known Connie for 33 yrs. Her sister Ann and brother in law Enoch are like family. I was at Connie’s retirement party in Atlanta and I had her come to Clemson to speak to my students. Almost 30 yrs since her last speaking engagement at Clemson, she came and brought her new book, Silver Rights along with Mae Bertha Carter and Chuck McDew. It was a packed house and she sold over 30 copies of her book. I visited her periodically in Atlanta with her Bro-in-law and my best friend, Enoch. She was always giving me signed books to give away. Her bawdy sense of humor kept me laughing! Her long time civil rights activist friend/compadre, Will D Campbell was a mentor and friend to me. She didn’t handle aging pissed her off as it does me. But she died with that vigor of youth in her eye...she never lost that! She’s at peace and no more bullshit aging/dying shit to deal with. We’ll miss you and your legacy Miss Constance!
                                                                          —Tim S. Willis
To my ace, my buddy, my kindred spirit. I am at a loss. Having you as a friend. co-conspirator. hellraiser and strategist for the past 15 years meant the world to me. Words can not express... Love, Peace & Blessings,
                                                  — Ms. Benetta Marie Standly