A Family Reclaims Its Heritage: Growing Up with Anna Belle Rideaux

by Cherelle Swain

To see this complete magazine article with endnotes and additional images, please view the PDF version.

Whether material or spiritual, experiencing loss changes people, families, and communities. This article examines how losing a matriarch impacted her descendants and the Rondo neighborhood. What was gained from loss, what has vanished forever, and what does a community and family strive to reclaim?

I never knew my great-grandmother, Anna Belle Hitt Rideaux, but as a little girl growing up in the 1990s and early 2000s, I heard wonderful stories of Anna Belle and the family she and my great-grandfather, James, raised in St. Paul’s Rondo neighborhood. She seemed like a dream to me.

• Great-grandmother Anna Belle was a talented businesswoman, sewing elegant dresses and handsome suits from her home and later owning her own women’s dress shop;
• She opened her house to Black travelers looking for an affordable and safe place to stay;
• She, with James, owned a country club in the St. Croix River Valley and invited friends, family, and travelers to enjoy time in Wisconsin’s great outdoors; and
• Great-grandmother Anna Belle was most certainly THE “Belle of the Ball” at local social and family events.

Some of these anecdotes sounded like fairytales. I wondered: How could a Black woman have accomplished so much prior to the civil rights movement? And then there was the community where Anna Belle and James settled in their first home together at 707 Rondo Avenue.

Again, I had heard stories, but when I was growing up, I understood that Rondo had changed so much—especially after Interstate 94 ripped through the community in the 1950s and ’60s. Yet, childhood memories of St. Paul are still some of my favorites. My parents drove my siblings and me from our home in Burnsville to Rondo, where we spent many weekends at grandma’s house, played with cousins on Selby Avenue, or sang in the choir at Camphor Memorial United Methodist Church, where we made beloved friendships.

Each Christmas Eve, we gathered in Rondo around a gorgeous black Christmas tree decorated with ornaments and white twinkly lights. Gifts enveloped in black wrapping paper and tied with beautiful ivory and gold ribbons sat waiting beneath the tree. Laughter and Christmas spirit filled the space.

Rondo Days is another special memory—an annual celebration and remembrance of a bygone era. We all looked forward to the outdoor summer event. But despite the celebratory parade, exciting drill team competition, and delicious food, I always sensed that I was missing the “real Rondo.” I wished to experience the community in its heyday so I could bask in its jovial culture and rich legacy. Rondo Days, while wonderful, always left me yearning for more. Eventually, curiosity led me to ask questions about Great-grandmother Anna Belle and the Rondo of the past. And, so, a journey began.

Down Memory Lane with Anna Belle’s Grandchildren

Without ever knowing Anna Belle, I always felt close to her, and, in the last few years as a filmmaker, I’ve begun documenting our family’s history. Last fall, I invited Aunt Muriel Campbell Collins of St. Paul; Uncle Joel (Pootsie) Edmond of Minneapolis; and Uncle Gordon (Gordy) Edmond from Nashville, Tennessee, to join my mother Stacy Edmond Swain at my parents’ home in Burnsville to spend a few hours remembering their grandmother Anna Belle, whom they affectionately called Gaga.

But this was no ordinary gathering. As a documentarian, I knew I had to think about setting and, so, while my parents were out, and with the help of family members and a couple of kind movers, I transformed the Swain family living and dining rooms, “recreating Anna Belle’s home,” complete with my great-grandmother’s elegant furniture that had been hidden in storage for a decade. My aunt and uncles were pleasantly surprised, but when my mother returned, she was fit to be tied when she saw her furniture had been moved downstairs. As she made her way upstairs, however, her annoyance turned to joy and happiness.

It was a sight to see the ornate heirlooms—timeless French Provincial-style chairs surrounding an elegant dining table. As we sat together, the four siblings searched their memories, recalling faces and names they hadn’t thought about in decades. And, as I looked around, I wondered to myself: Who else had sat in these seats? What were they going through? What were their hopes and dreams for our family?”

On top of the table, I curated an exhibit of sepia-toned and black-and-white photographs, along with letters, receipts, and other archival materials spanning the last one-hundred years. Immediately, my mother, aunt, and uncles traveled back in time.

The setup continued in the living room with an elegant recreation of my great-grandmother’s matching furniture set. The chairs and sofa are framed in rich wood—intricately carved with delicate flowers—and showcase Anna Belle’s classic style with uniquely curvaceous designs and tufted backs upholstered in ivory fabric adorned with a subtle floral pattern. It was my first time seeing the set together in its entirety. The scene clearly made a statement as my mom slowly came to terms with her temporarily refurnished home and remembered her childhood:

I thought our grandparents’ home was a palace—it was beautiful and elegant inside and out, up and down. Every guest bedroom had a color theme—green, red, and pink.

What other memories would Anna Belle’s belongings trigger?

“I remember that party,” Mom noted with a nostalgic smile. “And what about this?” she asked Aunt Muriel, pointing at the inside cover of a guestbook, handwritten in black, cursive ink. The book, with its yellowed pages, held an air of timelessness. The delicate aging of the paper carried the weight of beautiful memories: “20th Anniversary—February 18, 1955—of James and Anna Belle Rideaux who received guests with [an] Open House at their newly, and elegantly appointed home.”

“Oh my goodness, I wasn’t even born,” Mom exclaimed.

Aunt Muriel entered the living room and read a note from one of the attendees, “Best of wishes, finest dishes.”

“Yeah, they were all about the dishes,” she laughed. She and Mom scanned the guest list. Several of Anna Belle’s siblings attended the gathering—Aunt Fannie from Detroit, Aunt Cynthia from here in St. Paul, and Uncle Charles from Chicago.

I thought to myself: This was soon after they had redecorated and painted their home. At the time, they had no idea that just a few years later, they would be forced off their beloved Rondo Avenue.

After Anna Belle’s passing at age seventy-three in 1979, these archival items along with jewelry and much of the furniture eventually landed in the hands of someone “outside” the family. Anna Belle’s heirs—Muriel Holliday Edmond, her four children, and their children—lost possession of these prized belongings. Forced to move on, the items were largely written off as something that would never be recovered. It took thirty years, but thanks to the tenacity and willpower of Uncle Pootsie and my sister, Natalie Swain Cargile, some of the family property was returned.

Family Values

Anna Belle made her way to the North Star State from Birmingham, Alabama, in 1930 with her young daughter, Muriel, and her mother, Anna Belle Nelson Hitt. Like millions of Black Americans who participated in the Great Migration between 1910 and 1970, the family of three, along with Anna Belle’s eight siblings, left the Jim Crow South looking for better lives and opportunities. Some of her brothers and sisters landed in Chicago; others in Detroit. Anna Belle chose Minnesota because the reputation of St. Paul’s Black community had preceded itself. She had already heard that Rondo was a “vibrant and resilient cross-section [of the city].” When she arrived, she was not disappointed. “The neighborhood was the beating heart of [the] African-American community and home to thriving businesses, religious organizations, and social clubs.”

Anna Belle met James in 1933; they married in 1935. Looking at a photo of the couple, Uncle Pootsie noted that Anna Belle was the motivator, crediting her for her creativity and acknowledging her know-how to make money and keep her husband on point. Uncle Gordy agreed. “Papi was more of an introvert; Gaga was an extrovert. He often went along with her vision.”

“It was pretty much, ‘Whatever you want, Anna Belle,’ ” Uncle Pootsie laughed, “She was . . . the brains of the operation, and he was the muscle.” Together, they raised Anna Belle’s daughter from a previous marriage—Muriel.

Anna Belle was very proud of her daughter. She and James taught young Muriel that education and hard work were essential. Muriel graduated from Marshall High School and, later, Lincoln University—an Historically Black College and University (HCBU) —in Jefferson City, Missouri.

Uncle Pootsie picked up a news clipping about Muriel at a college dance—attended and arranged by Anna Belle. The caption read, “It was a memorable weekend when Muriel’s momma came to town to fete her darling daughter with a birthday party in Bennett Hall.” The accompanying picture featured Muriel dancing with a gentleman in the foreground and Anna Belle dancing directly behind her! In a time following World War II when money was still tight for most everyone living in the US, Anna Belle spared no expense. To her, family was everything, and she intended to celebrate her daughter when she could.

Muriel married Joel Edmond in 1953, and Anna Belle celebrated the grandchildren the couple introduced to the world, as well. But—she expected them to behave.

The siblings explained to me that Anna Belle taught etiquette when they were young. They learned that there are certain things you do and certain things you don’t do. Uncle Pootsie shared an example:

“A lot of kids in the neighborhood didn’t like it because they thought we thought that we were better. . . . We were just taught a different way. . . . One time, we were . . . eating, and I turned the plate. Well, that day I learned that you are not supposed to turn your plate. Instead, you use your knife and fork to bring the food closer to you. You couldn’t shovel your fork. Oh, Lord, I’ll never forget that.”

My mother, uncles, and aunt all spent some time during their formative years living at the Rideaux house. Anna Belle loved having them around and treated them as her own children while Muriel balanced multiple jobs to make sure her family had everything it needed. Anna Belle’s rules were carved into their memories, as Uncle Gordy recalled:

“If you stayed at [Anna Belle’s] house, and you didn’t make up your bed, you would be disciplined; you just would. To this day, I do not leave the house without making up my bed, pillow tucked, sheets tucked, and everything. That’s how she was, and she instilled that in me.”

My mom lived with her grandparents for five or six years. She admitted it was hard. She missed home and felt embarrassed if friends thought the “old people” she was with were her parents. “And they drove a Buick or an Oldsmobile with Batmobile wings, so I was always embarrassed about their car.”

Anna Belle taught young Stacy how to make eggnog, sew and garden, iron, and set the table. She learned to play the piano, as did her siblings, and attended Camphor Church every Sunday. Mom reflected:

“It was actually a wonderful thing and a blessing . . . . [Anna Belle] only had one child, and she wanted many, so we all had our stint living there at one point or another. I just happened to live there last and the longest.”

Anna Belle Rideaux—All Business

Over five hours as we poured over photos and shared one story after another, it became evident that Anna Belle impacted not just our family but so many people in the community, and she took on a variety of roles.

People first got to know Anna Belle as a seamstress. “While everyone wanted the most fashionable and fabulous pieces, oftentimes, they wouldn’t have the budget,” Aunt Muriel commented.

[Her work] was less expensive than going [to] downtown St. Paul or to some of the bigger shops. She would create the most beautiful items for those [who] came to her, and they wouldn’t need to break the bank. She didn’t use patterns either.

She opened her first dress shop in her Rondo home. In the early 1960s, she operated a storefront near 50th and Bryant in Minneapolis, where the restaurant George and the Dragon and the Patina store now stand.

Both Anna Belle and James were active and entrepreneurial. James worked as a redcap at Union Depot, was a tailor in his own right, and a dedicated trustee of the church. Anna Belle sewed clothing, raised her children, and like many individuals in Rondo, opened the family home to travelers looking for a safe place to stay while in town. One such guest was ballplayer Roy Campanella, who played briefly for the St. Paul Saints before returning to the New York Dodgers in 1948. Aunt Muriel noted that her grandmother owned a fourplex on Iglehart for renters and boarders, “She was entrepreneurial and generated revenue by collecting rent,” my aunt said.

And then there was the St. Croix Valley Country Club, which Anna Belle and James purchased in 1956.

The club—a nineteen-room, limestone mansion—sat on 200 acres of land across meadows of purple aster. Trout ponds fed a spring flowing over Silverbrook Falls.

“It was the original bed and breakfast for Black people at the time,” Uncle Pootsie recalled.

“Visitors came for archery [and] fishing, and people could come on the property to trap. . . . I remember a white man who used to come and catch the minks during that time. . . [and] my grandfather ate what he trapped, even raccoons. . .”

As Uncle Pootsie shared his memories of the club with us, he grew sentimental:

“My fondest memories were playing behind the waterfall. . . with [you], Gordy. [And] I recall looking out of the front of the property and seeing deer all over the place; they would come [so] close to the front door.”

Aunt Muriel chimed in, pointing to a photo of the club, “I slept in this room because I always could see the waterfall. I wanted to be by the water.”

Uncle Pootsie continued to reflect:

“My affinity for the outdoors started in Osceola, [Wisconsin]. I canoed from [there] all the way to Bayport, [Minnesota] as a kid, and I could start a campfire. . . and pitch a tent. I love fishing and tennis. All of my siblings and I learned to swim at a young age. Of course, the winter time is getting kind of rough for an old man, but I still love being outside.”

The Destruction of Rondo

The St. Croix Country Club was a welcome place to relax. It was also a necessary place to retreat at that time because the new freeway that tore through Rondo scattered people and businesses. Aunt Muriel remembered dirt blowing everywhere for two to three years. At the time, she was about twelve or thirteen years old.

“As a child, I didn’t understand it at first,” Uncle Pootsie explained. “To me, it was like a giant playground, a big hole in the dirt where they took out two streets. We even used to play on the equipment, which you’re not supposed to do,” he added with a smirk. “We used to start and stop the machines.” He continued:

“Once we got older, we realized they put a freeway through an enterprising Black community during a time of racial riots and the civil rights movement. Across the United States, freeways were being built through [many] Black communities.”

My uncle was right. From 1956 to 1968, under the Federal-Aid Highway Act, dozens of communities across the country were forced to relocate at the hands of federal and state governments—a glaring example of intentional destruction, violence, and forced displacement of Black communities.

As we talked about this chapter of our family’s lives, the mood around the table shifted.

“When the Minnesota Department of Transportation acquired and demolished [Anna Belle’s] home at 707 Rondo for Interstate 94,” Aunt Muriel reflected, “we were fortunate to buy another home at 765 Marshall. It wasn’t about money; the real concern was the destruction of our community.” She thought back:

“Rondo was vibrant and self-sustaining. We had numerous businesses—grocery stores, restaurants, BBQ shops, liquor stores, printers, medical offices—you name it, we had it. A lot of people I went to school with [St. Paul Central grad, 1967] were gone. Some families left the state; others moved to different parts of St. Paul or to more suburban areas.”

It was a tough time. Not only did the Rideaux family lose the home on Rondo Avenue, but eight years after purchasing the country club, they were forced to foreclose on that property.

“It’s difficult, nostalgic, and sad,” said Uncle Pootsie, wistfully. “[But], we try to keep the spirit of the community alive, and we come together through photographs, stories, and annual events to remember.”

Gathering Together

When thinking about growing up in Rondo, Aunt Muriel mostly recalls family. Every year, there was a reunion at someone’s large home. Anna Belle’s siblings took turns hosting events across the Midwest. Many of the men worked as railroad company redcaps, so it was easy to travel by train. Aunt Muriel chuckled, “[There was] a lot of food, card playing, and doing the Charleston. On Sunday, everyone would go to church.

When together, family gathered in the piano room. “Every last one of them could sing and play the piano. Grandma would get them on cue, and the house would light up,” Uncle Pootsie remembered.

According to Uncle Gordy, playing cards was another favorite pastime of Anna Belle’s—she loved competing with family and friends:

“You name a card game, she could play it. . . . she would play for money, and nobody could beat her. She’d have three-day card events, and all the socialites would be there. . . . I remember the way she would set up the rooms, the decor, and the hors d’oeuvres. The women . . . would have such a good time, playing music, sometimes staying up until 3 am.”

Continuing the Legacy

As the discussion about Anna Belle began to wind down, we were all a bit emotional. “Sitting here brings back some very fond memories,” Uncle Gordy sighed. “Just to inherit the legacy, to be able to remember, just to be a part of it. This is such a good feeling.”

He admitted he didn’t remember the names of many faces in the photographs scattered across the table. He’d forgotten a lot of people, but then he’d discover an image that transported him back. In this instance, it was a newspaper clipping of Anna Belle sitting in her living room on the same furniture we were using for this gathering. A reporter and photographer showcased her elegant home.

With pride, Uncle Gordy shared, “Through this matriarch, we are connected to a generation that goes back. I never realized I would look back on my own family in this way. I am mesmerized. It’s a big wow.”

And although Anna Belle has been gone forty-five years, the siblings still appreciate the significant impact she had on their lives.

For example, Anna Belle taught Uncle Pootsie to cook as a little boy while he stood on a chair to reach the stove. This later inspired him to attend vocational school, where he was trained in French cuisine. Back then, there weren’t a lot of Black chefs in Minnesota, but that didn’t stop my uncle. For thirty-five years, he worked in the industry, serving eighteen years as the executive chef at Hillcrest Golf Course on the city’s far northeast side.

In some ways, I think Anna Belle’s creative entrepreneurial spirit runs through all of us. My Aunt Muriel and her husband, Billy Collins, owned Muriel’s, an upscale footwear store, for a decade.

My mom owned and operated a hair salon out of her home, working as a cosmetologist and making women feel beautiful and cared for—just like Anna Belle did. My sister, Natalie, owns The CONNECT Network, a Texas-based television media company focused on inspiring women entrepreneurs and founders. Our brother, JJ Swain, runs Swain Studios, a production company specializing in commercial video and photography. I, too, am an entrepreneur as the creator and producer of Terra Rossa, a community-based production company and creative agency.

In addition, following in Anna Belle’s footsteps, several family members have harnessed the power of real estate to catalyze generational wealth.

For instance, my mother sold a property to my cousin, Brock Collins—Muriel and Billy’s son. He had rented it for twenty years. When she retired, she asked if he wanted to own it:

“He put a lot into it, and I wanted to support him any way I could, including providing a gift of equity that made it possible for him to buy the home. I am really proud of him, and it worked out just as I had hoped.”

Another property remained in the family when JJ bought Aunt Muriel and Uncle Billy’s St. Paul home. His purchase was made possible by the gift of equity from our aunt and uncle, along with support from the Inheritance Fund, a local initiative aimed at rebuilding family wealth in the Rondo community. The fund acknowledges that the economic and social diversity of the Rondo area was disrupted when the construction of Interstate 94 began, destroying over $100 million in wealth.

JJ was eligible for assistance from this fund due to the hard work and dedication of Anna Belle and James Rideaux. He did have to prove he was a direct descendant of a property owner whose land was acquired by the Minnesota State Department of Transportation for the I-94 project between Lexington Avenue and Rice Street. This opportunity provided by the city has inspired our family and others from the Rondo community seeking to reclaim their heritage.

We Are Grateful

Our family exercise had wrapped. The five of us were exhausted, yet energized. This very personal journey reclaiming these memories, the furniture, photos and documents, and the essence of our historic community will continue. Together, we realize that through love, community, and by taking care of each other, we strive not just to remember, but to rebuild.

Uncle Gordy said it best:

“Thank you, Gaga, for being so enduring, loving, and compassionate. [You were] someone [who] touched the lives of so many people.”

Acknowledgments: Thanks to my aunt, uncles, and mother for generously sharing their experiences and allowing our family to archive this history. It means the world to me. Thank you to the generous film crew who shared their time and talent with us: JJ Swain, Jean Paul Dia, Nick Mihalevich, and Jai Winston. Gratitude to my resilient sister, Natalie Cargile, for reclaiming our family’s furniture and to Uncle Pootsie for facilitating the return of our heirlooms. Thanks, too, to my mother and sister for storing the furniture over the last decade. I am deeply grateful to author Haley Prochnow for so beautifully bringing to life my great-grandmother’s story in the first article. Although not mentioned in this segment, I would be remiss not to extend gratitude to the beloved elders who have helped me more intimately remember my great-grandmother’s legacy, including Gordy Kirk and Bernadine McGee and our recently transitioned ancestors Pauline Wallace and Pat Allen.

Cherrelle Swain is a documentary film producer and founder of Terra Rossa, a community-centered production company focused on social justice. With a portfolio spanning film, beauty, fashion, education, and business, she brings a fresh perspective to impactful storytelling. A former educator, community organizer, and expat, she shares uplifting stories of ancestry, identity, and healing. Descending from St. Paul’s Rondo community, Swain lives in Washington DC. She holds her BBA from Howard University and MBA from Universidad de Sevilla in international business. Swain was an associate producer of the acclaimed documentary film Black Boys, which premiered on NBC Peacock and the producer of In Due Season, which is now on a film festival and community impact tour. She is currently producing Ancestral Healing, an investigative documentary exploring her family’s experience in the Rondo neighborhood and the Midwest through the life of her great-grandmother Anna Belle Rideaux.