In May 2023, the Kids in Birmingham 1963 community was deeply saddened to learn of the sudden death of our friend Chervis Isom.
The bio the Chervis Isom submitted when we published his book chapter follows:
Chervis Isom was born in rural Franklin County, Alabama, located in the northwestern part of Alabama in the hill country, from where his parents had originated. His family moved to Birmingham when he was a young child of three to four years of age, to the urban community of Norwood. It was there in Norwood where he delivered newspapers during his adolescence. He attended Norwood Grammar School, Phillips High School (1957), Birmingham-Southern College (B.A. English and Philosophy, 1962) and Cumberland School of Law of Samford University (J.D., 1967).
Upon graduation from Law School, he accepted an offer to practice law in the small firm of Berkowitz, Lefkovits, Vann, Patrick & Smith. Thirty-six years later, the firm of Berkowitz, Lefkovits, Isom & Kushner merged its practice with the multi-state law firm of Baker Donelson Bearman & Caldwell, adding the name “Berkowitz” to its name. He has retired from his law practice after fifty-four years with the same firm, and now devotes his time to family matters but still finds time to push words around on the page.
In 2014, Chervis Isom, who lives in Birmingham, published The Newspaper Boy: Coming of Age in Birmingham, Alabama, During the Civil Rights Era.
Chervis Isom was an early supporter of the Kids project, giving permission to publish a chapter from his book (The Newspaper Boy: Coming of Age in Birmingham, Alabama, during the Civil Rights Era). He made possible the first sizable donation to our organization, asking Baker Donelson, the law firm where he worked, to cut a check as we planned our first get-together in Birmingham. At that gathering, Chervis participated in the NBC Nightly News interview (broadcast on NBC Nightly News on Thanksgiving Day 2018). Chervis’ contributions to Kids were many: serving on our Executive Committee for almost two years (though he’d agree to only one!); securing ongoing pro bono legal support from Baker Donelson; joining a Kids Connect conversation about his book; and giving us an oral history related to his work on a legal case that would have required removal of an Interstate highway that still segments Birmingham.
Kids Storyteller Maury Shevin shared the following in an email message:
Friends: I write in memory of and in praise of Chervis Isom. Chevis died this week from a fall while vacationing with his family in France.
Birmingham knew Chervis. He was a lawyer’s lawyer, a consummate gentleman, a liberal and outspoken advocate for doing right, an accomplished author, and a friend to so many. His 2013 book, The Newspaper Boy is a transcendent writing about coming of age in a time of accepted segregation; but his knowing, even as a young person, that something was amiss in our society. His book describes his awakening in a manner that many of a certain age and in the South can relate to. And, it is so well written. So genuine. So human. If you didn’t know Chervis, I urge you to read his book. You will then know him.
Chervis was one of the good guys. My world is less today because of his death. So, it is even more incumbent on me–on you–to pick up the work, to work a little harder to repair the world.
Author’s note: I’ve used the old-fashioned, at-the-time-polite terms “Negro” and “colored” to describe the African Americans who appear in these stories. I hope you will understand I have no intention to offend anyone by my choice of those terms. For integrity’s sake, I’m merely using the vernacular of the time. (From The Newspaper Boy by Chervis Isom, 2013, page xiii)
He pointed to large, raised letters near the end of the dusty eight inch steel pipe. With one swipe, I brushed them clean. “Made in Belgium,” I muttered, as if he needed my translation. Then he stalked away. I studied the dozens of identical pipe stacked in the yard. The electric grinder he had given me, now hanging from my hand, seemed wholly inadequate for the job I had been told to do.
As I dithered, trying to figure out the best way to begin, I noticed the colored guy—they called him Arizona—watching me. His neutral face showed no emotion, but I knew he must have been amused to watch a college boy flounder in ignorance and incompetence.
How do I begin? I wondered. Is there a place to sit? If I sit on the pipe, will it roll? There must be a trick to this somehow. Arizona watched quietly. After a few moments, I looked at him. “You done this before?”
