by Leah Romero on
JAMES FLOWERS REMAINS MODEST about serving in the U.S. Army Air Force as a pilot and first lieutenant. At 110, the Tuskegee Airman is the oldest living veteran in the U.S. While Flowers says he tries not to overdo anything these days, the impact of his time in the military and as an educator continues to resonate. Born in Dendron, Virginia, to a farmer father and an educator mother, he joined the military at 25 and became one of the first Black U.S. pilots, teaching aviation intelligence to cadets. After five years in the Army Air Force, he relocated to New York City, where he taught middle school science for about 30 years. “I liked relating with the children,” he says. “At that age, they were anxious to learn.” Flowers and his wife, Evelyn, who passed away in 2008, retired to New Mexico and made their home in Las Cruces. He was awarded the New Mexico Medal of Merit by the New Mexico Department of Veterans Services earlier this year.
I’m anti-war. My father and mother were anti-war. So I was in the service because I had no alternative; I had to make choices.
The Army Air Force interviewed us to find out whether we were human or not. In deciding that we were human, they sent us down to Alabama, and there, we entered the service. I washed out of flying, so then they sent me to the OCS, Officer Candidate School.
During the last two weeks, they classify you: “supply,” “transportation,” or “intelligence.” I was classified “intelligence.” I was in five years. Most of the time I was teaching at the cadet ground school.
I had an intelligence squadron, and they were Black. Superiors wanted them to cut their hair, and they didn’t want to cut it. But the men were so happy to have a Black officer that they cut their hair and looked good to make me look good.
I was one of the few Black officers. They wanted to continue to have me, so they made me look as good as they could.
My wife and I retired from teaching on the Lower East Side in New York City.
I can remember saying goodbye to the students one day as they’re going home at 3 p.m. I said, “Get out of my hair, get out of my hair.” And they said, “Mr. Flowers, we are not in your hair.” I like children.
Our children were all out of the house. Evelyn and I were sort of retired. We moved to Deming, and Evelyn didn’t like that. So we came here to Las Cruces. I found half a street, nobody on it. I bought this lot, and I figured anybody who moved in would have to live with this old man.
One of the idiosyncrasies of age is getting to the point you don’t remember things. And you get so you’re not exactly mobile. I can’t move around anymore. I used to walk around the block, but now I can’t. If I stand up, I’d fall down. Coming from the bed to the chair and going from the chair to the bed are the danger periods of my life.
Being old isn’t the work of a sissy. You get so you don’t think as well and you don’t hear as well, so people have to indulge you. My father used to say, “You’re once a grown man and twice a child.”