She was a songbird whose voice was so pure, so golden, it could carry you to the gates of Heaven itself. And her spirit was just as pure, just as beautiful. She came to Harlem when she was 18 with dreams of becoming a star.

Last year, not long after she married Clayton Morris when she was 21, Lydia’s talents began to pay dividends. She sang in the choir at the Abyssinian Baptist Church, which led to singing at rent parties and gigs at the smaller clubs. She was auditioned at the Cotton Club and other popular establishments. She was right on the verge of success.

Then she was struck by a Plymouth driven by a drunk turning from Lenox onto 116th. A white man, Reginald Thurston, who got a fine and 30 days suspended.