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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11709-0.txt b/11709-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f188da --- /dev/null +++ b/11709-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10711 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11709 *** + +[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note +[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note + + + + +SLAVE NARRATIVES + + +A Folk History of Slavery in the United States +From Interviews with Former Slaves + + +TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT +1936-1938 +ASSEMBLED BY +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS + + +WASHINGTON 1941 + + + + +VOLUME II + +ARKANSAS NARRATIVES + +PART 6 + + + + +Prepared by +the Federal Writers' Project of +the Works Progress Administration +for the State of Arkansas + + + +INFORMANTS + +Quinn, Doc + +Ralls, Henrietta +Rankins, Diana +Rassberry, Senia +Reaves, Clay +Reece, Jane +Reed, Frank +Reeves, James +Rhone, Shepherd +Richard, Dora +Ricks, Jim +Rigger, Charlie +Rigley, Ida +Ritchie, Milton +Rivers, Alice +Roberts, Rev. J. +Robertson (Robinson?), George +Robinson, Augustus +Robinson, Malindy +Robinson, Tom +Rogers, Isom +Rogers, Oscar James +Rogers, Will Ann +Rooks, William Henry +Ross, Amanda +Ross, Cat +Ross, Mattie +Rowland, Laura +Rucker, Landy +Ruffin, Martha +Ruffin, Thomas +Rumple, Casper +Russell, Henry +Rye, Katie + +Samuels, Bob +Sanderson, Emma +Scott, Mary +Scott, Mollie Hardy +Scott, Sam +Scroggins, Cora +Sexton, Sarah +Shaver, Roberta +Shaw, Mary +Shaw, Violet +Shelton, Frederick +Shelton, Laura +Shores, Mahalia +Simmons, Rosa +Sims, Fannie +Sims, Jerry +Sims, Victoria +Sims, Virginia +Singfield, Senya +Sloan, Peggy +Smallwood, Arzella +Smiley, Sarah +Smith, Andrew +Smith, Caroline +Smith, Caroline +Smith, Edmond +Smith, Emma Hulett +Smith, Ervin E. +Smith, Frances +Smith, Henrietta Evelina +Smith, Henry +Smith, J.L. +Smith, John H. +Snow, Charlie and Maggie +Solomon, Robert +Spikes, James +Stanford, Kittie +Stanhouse, Tom +Starnes, Isom +Steel, Hezekiah (Ky) +Stenhouse, Maggie +Stephens, Charlotte E. +Stevens, William J. +Stewart, Minnie Johnson +Stiggers, Liza +Stith, James Henry +Stout, Caroline +Street, Felix + +Tabon, Mary +Tanner, Liza Moore +Tatum, Fannie +Taylor, Anthony +Taylor, Lula +Taylor, Millie +Taylor, Sarah +Taylor, Warren +Teague, Sneed +Teel, Mary +Thermon, Wade +Thomas, Dicey +Thomas, Mandy +Thomas, Omelia +Thomas, Omelia +Thomas, Tanner +Thomas, Wester +Thompson, Annie [TR: Corrected from "Thomas"] +Thompson, Ellen Briggs +Thompson, Hattie +Thompson, Mamie +Thompson, Mike +Thornton, Laura +Tidwell, Emma (Bama?) +Tillman, Joe +Tims, J.T. +Travis, Hannah +Trotter, Mark C. +Tubbs, James +Tucker, Mandy +Turner, Emma +Turner, Henry +Tuttle, Seabe + + + + +Texarkana District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland +Subject: Social Customs--Reminiscences of an Ex-Slave +Subject: Foods + +This Information given by: Doc Quinn +Place of Residence: 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas +Occupation: None [TR: also reported as Ex-slave.] +Age: 93 [TR: also reported as 94.] +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +Several months ago, I called at 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas +where I had been informed a voluble old negro lived. An aged, +gray-haired, negro woman came to the door and informed me her father was +in the wood shed at the back of the house. Going around to the wood shed +I found him busily engaged in storing his winter supply of wood. When I +made known my mission he readily agreed to answer all my questions as +best he could. Seating himself on a block of wood, he told this almost +incredible story, along with lengthy discourses on politics, religion +and other current events: + +"I wuz born March 15, 1843, in Monroe County, Mississippi, near +Aberdeen, Mah Mahster wuz Colonel Ogburn, one ob de bigges' planters in +de state of Mississippi. Manys de time he raised so much cotton dat dem +big steamers just couldnt carry it all down to N'Awlins in one year. +But den along came de Civil War an' we didn't raise nothin' fo' several +years. Why? Becase most uf us jined the Confederate Army in Colonel +Ogburn's regiment as servants and bodyguards. An' let me tell yo' +somethin', whitefolks. Dere never wuz a war like dis war. Why I 'member +dat after de battle of Corinth, Miss., a five acre field was so thickly +covered wid de dead and wounded dat yo' couldn't touch de ground in +walkin' across it. And de onliest way to bury dem wuz to cut a deep +furrow wid a plow, lay de soldiers head to head, an' plow de dirt back +on dem." + +"About a year after de war started de Mahster got one ob dese A.W.O.L.'s +frum de Army so we could come to Miller County, where he bought de place +on Red River now known as de Adams Farm. + +"When we fust came here dis place, as well as de rest ob de Valley, wuz +just a big canebrake--nothin' lived in dere but bears, wolves, and +varmints. Why de Mahster would habe to round up de livestock each +afternoon, put dem in pens, and den put out guards all night to keep de +wolves and bears frum gettin' em. De folks didn't go gallivatin' round +nights like dey do now or de varmints would get them. But den we didn't +stay here but a few months until de Mahster's A.W.O.L. wuz up, so we had +to go back and jine de army. We fought in Mississippi Alabama, Georgia, +and South Carolina." + +"When de war ended de Mahster moved us to Miller County, but not on de +Adams farm. For de man whut used to own de farm said Uncle Sam hadn't +made any such money as wuz paid him for de farm, so he wanted his farm +back. Dat Confederate money wuzn't worth de paper it wuz printed on, so +de Mahster had to gib him back de farm. Poor Massa Ogburn--he didn't +live long after dat. He and his wife are buried side by side in Rondo +Cemetery." + +"Not long after de negroes wuz freed, I took 86 ob dem to de votin' +place at Homan and voted 'em all straight Democratic. On my way back +home dat evenin' five negroes jumped frum de bushes and stopped me. +Dey 'splained dat I wuz too 'fluential wid de negroes and proceeded to +string me up by de neck. I hollers as loud as I could, and Roy Nash and +Hugh Burton, de election officers, just happen to be comin' down de road +and hear me yell. Dey ran off de niggers and cut me down, but by dat +time I had passed out. It wuz several weeks befo' I got well, and I can +still feel dat rope 'round my neck. Iffen dey had known how to tie a +hangmans knot I wouldn't be here to tell you about it." + +"It wuzn't long after dis dat I jined Colonel' Baker's Gang for +'tection. 'Colonel' Baker wuz a great and brave man and did mo' fo de +white folks of dis country den any other man. Why iffen it hadn't been +fo' him de white folks couldn't hab lived in dis country, de negroes wuz +so mean. Dey wuz so mean dat dey tied heavy plow shoes aroun' de necks +ob two little white boys and threw dem in de lake. Yes suh. I wuz dere." + +"And another time I wuz wid a bunch of niggers when dey wuz plannin' on +killin a white man who wuz a friend ob mine. As soon as I could I slips +away and tips him off. When I got back one ob dem niggers looks at me +suspicious like and asks, "where yo been, nigger?" I wuz shakin' like a +leaf in a storm, but I says: "I ain't been nowhere--just went home to +get some cartridges to help kill dis white man." + +"Not long after I jined Colonel Baker's Gang, we wuz comin' frum Fulton +to Clipper through de Red River bottoms. De river wuz overflowin' an' as +we wuz crossin' a deep, swift slough, Colonel Baker and his horse got +tangled up in some grape vines. Colonel Baker yelled, and I turned my +mule around and cut all de grape vine loose wid my Bowie knife. Dere +ain't nothin' like a mule for swimmin'. Dey can swim circles aroun' any +horse. As long as he lived, Colonel Baker was always grateful to me fo' +savin' his life." + +"De Colonel hated de sight ob mean niggers. We would ride up to a negro +settlement, and tell de niggers we wuz organizing a colored militia to +catch Cullen Baker and his gang. Most ob de negroes would join, but some +ob dem had to be encouraged by Colonel Baker's big gun. De recruits +would be lined up in an open field fo' drilling. And dey sho wuz +drilled. Colonel Baker and his men would shoot them by the score. Dey +killed 53 at Homan, Arkansas, 86 at Rocky Comfort, (Foreman) Arkansas, 6 +near Ogden, Arkansas, 6 on de Temple place, 62 at Jefferson, Texas, 100 +in North Louisiana, 73 at Marshall, Texas, and several others." + +"All of de big planters wuz friendly to Cullen Baker. I have carried +supplies many times frum de big plantations--Hervey, Glass, and +others--to Cullen Baker. De Colonel always carried a big double-barrel +shotgun. It must have been de biggest shotgun in de world, not less den +a number eight size. He whipped 16 soldiers at Old Boston wid dis gun +one time." + +"I saw Colonel Baker killed. We had just arrived at his father-in-law's +house and I wuz in the horse lot, about 50 yards from de house, when Joe +Davis. Thomas Orr and some more men rode up." + +"De Colonel wuz standin' by de chimney an did not see dem come aroun' de +house. Dey killed him befo' he knew dey wuz aroun'. One ob de men asked +Mr. Foster, "Where at dat d--n nigger?" I ducked down and crawled in +under de rail fence and ran--I didn't stop 'til I wuz deep in the +Sulphur River bottoms. Every minute my heart seemed like it wuz goin' +to jump right out uv my mouth. I wuz the worst scared nigger that ever +lived." + +"I have lived many years since dat time. De times and ways of livin' +have changed. I 'member killing deer where the Texarkana National Bank +stands, way befo' Texarkana wuz even thought of. This place wuz one of +my favorite deer stands. Nix Creek used to be just full ob fish. What +used to be the best fishing hole aroun' here is now covered by the +Methodist Church (Negro), in East Texarkana. Dr. Weetten had a big +fine home out where Springlake Park is. He wuz killed when thrown by a +buckin' horse. All of de young people I knew den have been dead many +years." + + +Foods + +The question of eating special food on a particular day immediately +brings in mind Thanksgiving Day, when turkey becomes the universal dish. +Perhaps no other day in the year can be so designated, except among a +few religious orders when the eating of meat is strictly prohibited on +certain days. + +The belief that negroes are particularly addicted to eating pork is well +founded, as witness the sales of pork to colored people in most any meat +market. But who could imagine that cotton-seed was once the universal +food eaten in this vicinity by the colored people? That, according to +Doc Quinn, a former slave, and self-styled exmember of Cullen Baker's +Gang, was the custom before and shortly after the Civil War. + +The cotton-seed would be dumped into a hugh pot, and boiled for several +hours, the seed gradually rising to the top. The seed would then be +dipped off with a ladle. The next and final step would be to pour +corn-meal into the thick liquid, after which it was ready to be eaten. +Cotton-seed, it must be remembered, had little value at that time, +except as livestock feed. + +"Yes suh, Cap'n," the old negro went on to explain. "I has never eaten +anything whut tasted any better, or whut would stick to your ribs like +cotton-seed, and corn-meal cake. Rich? Why dey's nuthin dat is more +nutritious. You never saw a healthier or finer lookin' bunch of negroes +dan wuz on Colonel Harvey's place. + +"I 'member one time tho' when he changed us off cotton-seed, but we +didn't stay changed fo' long. No suh. Of all de grumblin' dem niggers +did, becase dey insides had got so used to dat cotton-seed and corn-meal +dey wouldn't be satisfied wid nothing else." + +"One mornin' when about forty of us niggers had reported sick, de +Mahster came down to de qua'ters. 'Whut ailin' ye' lazy neggers?' he +asked. Dem niggers los' about fifty pounds of weight apiece, and didn' +feel like doin' anything. 'Mahster,' I say. 'Iffen you'll have de wimmen +folks make us a pot full of dat cotton-seed and corn-meal, we'll be +ready to go to work.' And as long as I work fo' Colonel Harvey, one uv +de bes' men whut ever lived, we always had cotton-seed and corn-meal to +eat." + + + + +Texarkana District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Mrs. W.M. Ball +Subject: Anecdotes of an Aged Ex-Slave. +Subject: Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes. (Negro lore) +Story:--Information: + +Information given by: Doc Quinn +Place of Residence: 12th & Ash Sts., Texarkana, Ark. +Occupation: None (Ex-Slave) +Age: 92 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.] +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +"Mah young marster wuz Joe Ogburn. Me and him growed up togedder an' I +wuz his body guard durin' de wahr. Many's de day I'ze watched de smoke +ob battle clear away an' wait fo' de return ob mah marster. All de time +I felt we wuz born to win dat wahr, but God knowed bes' an' you know de +result. + +"Three years ago I went to Little Rook wid Mr. Fisher. Lac' all folks +whut goes to dis city, we wend our way to de Capitol to see de Governor. +Gov. Futtrell sittin' bac' in his great fine office, saw me and jined me +in conversation. De fus' question he axed me wuz 'whut party does yo' +'filiate wif?' I sez, 'de Democrat--de party whut's a frien' to de +nigger.' De Governor axed me how does I lac' dis life? I sez 'very well, +tho' things has changed since slavery days. Those wuz good ole days for +de black man; didn't hafter worry about nuthin'. Now, I sho' does mah +share ob worryin'. I worries from one meal to de odder, I worries about +whure I'ze gwine get some mo' clothes when dese wears out?' + +"I tole de Governor mah 'sperience wif de Republican Party durin' de +wahr. I been hung fo' times in mah life an' one ob de times by de +Republicans. Long time ago, Mr. Roy Nash an' Mr. Hugh Sutton wuz a +settin' ovah de ballot box on 'lection day, when I voted 80 Democrats. +Yas, suh; I jus' marches 'em in an' tells 'em how to cas' dey vote. Dat +night, on mah way home frum de votin', goin' down de lonely road, I wuz +stopped an' strung up to a tree by de neck. Dey 'splained dat I wuz too +'fluential wid de niggers. When I wuz hangin' dere I did some manful +howlin'. Dat howlin' sho brought de white folks. When dey see mah +distres' dey 'leased de rope an' I wuz saved. Dat is when I 'pealed to +Col. Baker for 'tection. He wuz mah frien' as long as he lib, and he wuz +a good frien' ob de South 'cause he saved lots ob white folks frum de +wrath ob de mean niggers." + +(Note: The Col. Baker referred to was Cullen Baker, the leader of a +ruthless gang of bushwhackers that operated in this section shortly +after the Civil War.) + +Doc Quinn tells a "ghost story" connected with the old church at Rondo, +built in 1861. + +"De Masonic Hall wuz built up ovah dis buildin' an' ever month dey had +dey meetin'. One night, when dey was 'sembled, two men wuz kilt. Dat +sho' did scatter dat lot ob Masons and frum dat time on de spirits ob +dese men roamed dis chu'ch. Sometime in de dead ob night, dat bell wud +ring loud an' clear, wakin' all de folks. Down dey wud come, clos' like, +to de chu'ch,--but scared to go closer. Mr. Bill Crabtree, a rich man +an' a man whut wuz scared too, offered anybody $100.00 to go inside dat +chu'ch an' stay one hour. Didn't nobody need dat $100.00 dat bad!" + +The old negro tells the following grave yard story: + +"One dark, drizzly night, de niggers wuz out in de woods shootin' craps. +I didn't hab no money to jine in de game. One nigger say, "Doc, effen +you go down to de cemetey' an' bring bac' one ob dem 'foot boa'ds' frum +one ob dem graves, we'll gib yo' a dollar." I ambles off to de cemete'y, +'cause I really needed dat money. I goes inside, walks careful like, not +wantin' to distu'b nuthin', an' finally de grave stone leapt up in front +ob me. I retches down to pick up de foot boa'd, an' lo! de black cats +wuz habin' a meetin' ovah dat grave an' dey objected to mah intrudin', +but I didn't pay 'em no mind; jus' fetched dat boa'd bac' to dem +niggers, an'--bless de Lawd,--dey gib me two dollars!" + + +Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes + +Some aged Negroes believe that many of the superstitious ideas that are +practiced by their race today had their origin in Africa. A practice +that was quite common in ante bellum days was for each member of the +family to extract all of their teeth, in the belief that in doing so the +family would never disagree. Fortunately, this and similar practices of +self mutilation have about become extinct. + +An old custom practiced to prevent the separation of a husband and wife +was to wrap a rabbit's forefoot, a piece of loadstone, and 9 hairs from +the top of the head in red flannel, and bury it under the front door +steps. + +As a preventitive against being tricked or hoo-dooed, punch a hole +through a dime, insert a string through the hole, and tie it around the +left ankle. + +To carry an axe or hoe into the house means bad luck. An itching nose +indicates some one is coming to see you, while an itching eye indicates +you will cry. + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Henrietta Ralls + 1711 Fluker St. + Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 88 + + +"Yes ma'am, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Mississippi, Lee +County, March 10, 1850. Come to Arkansas when I was ten years old. Had +to walk. My old master was Henry Ralls. Sometimes we jump up in the +wagon and he'd whip us out. + +"My old mistes name was Drunetta. She was good to us. We called her Miss +Netta. Old master was mean. He'd whip us. One day he come along and +picked up sand and throwed it in my eyes. He was a mean old devil. He +thought I was scared of him. Cose I was. That was before the war. + +"I recollect when the Yankees come. I knowed they was a'ridin'. White +folks made me hide things. I hid a barrel of wool once--put meal on +top. They'd a'took it ever bit if they could have found it. They wanted +chickens and milk. They'd take things they wanted--they would that. +Would a'taken ever bit of our wool if they could have found it. + +"They wouldn't talk to old mistes--just talk to me and ask where things +was. She didn't notice them and they didn't notice her. + +"I reckon the Lord intended for the Yankees to free the people. They was +fightin' to free the people. + +"I hear em say war is still goin' on in the world. + +"The owners was tryin' to hide the colored people. Our white folks took +some of us clear out in Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' em. Miss +Liza was Miss Netta's daughter and she was mean as her old daddy. She +said, 'Oh, yes, you little devils, you thought you was goin' to be free! +She had a good brother though. He wanted to swap a girl for me so I +could be back here with my mammy, but Miss Liza wouldn't turn me loose. +No sir, she wouldn't. + +"After freedom I hired out--cooked, milked cows and washed and ironed. + +"I went back to Mississippi and stayed with my father. Old Henry Ralls +sold my father fore we come to Arkansas. + +"I never been married. I could have married, but I didn't. I don't know +hardly why. + +"I been makin' my own livin' pretty much since I left my father. + +"Biggest majority of younger generation looks like they tryin' to get +a education and tryin' to make a livin' with their brain without usin' +their hands. But I'd rather use my hands--cose I would. + +"I went to school some after the war, but I had to pay for it. + +"I been disabled bout five or six years. Got to have somethin' to take +us away, I guess." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Diana Rankins, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 66 + + +"I was born at Arlington, Tennessee but when I was a chile the depot was +called With. My parents' name Sarah and Solomon Green. There was seven +girls and one boy of us. My sister died last year had two children old +as I was. I was the youngest chile. Folks mated younger than they do now +and seem like they had better times when there was a big family. + +"Adam Turnover in Charleston, South Carolina owned my papa. When he died +they sold him. He was one year and six months old when he was sold. + +"I think S.C. Bachelor, around Brownsville, Tennessee, owned mama first. +She said they put her upon the block and sold her and her mother was +crying. The man after he sold her ask her if she didn't want him to sell +her. She said she didn't care but said she knowed she was afraid to say +she cared cause she was crying. She never seen her mama no more. She was +carried off on a horse. She was a little girl then. General Hayes bought +her and he bought papa too. They played together. General Hayes made the +little boys run races so he could see who could run the fastest. + +"Papa said they picked him up and carried him off. He said they pressed +him into the breastworks of the war. He didn't want to go to war. Mr. +Hayes kept him hid out but they stole him and took him to fight. He come +home. He belong to Jack Hayes, General Hayes' son. They called him +Mr. Jack or Mr. Hayes when freedom come. Mr. Jack sent him to Como, +Mississippi to work and to Duncan, Arkansas to work his land. I was +fifteen years old when we come to Arkansas. Mr. Walker Hayes that was +president of the Commercial Appeal over at Memphis lost his land. We +been from place to place over Arkansas since then. Mr. Walker was +General Hayes' grandson. We worked field hands till then, we do anything +since. I nursed some for Mr. Charles Williams in Memphis. I have done +house work. I got two children. My son got one leg off. I live with him. +This little gran'boy is the most pleasure to us all. + +"The Ku Klux never did interfere with us. They never come to our house. +I have seen them. + +"When papa come from war it was all over. We knowed it was freedom. +Everybody was in a stir and talking and going somewhere. He had got +his fill of freedom in the war. He said turn us all out to freeze and +starve. He stayed with the Hayes till he died and mama died and all of +us scattered out when Mr. Walker Hayes lost his land. + +"Ladies used to be too fine to be voting. I'm too old now. My men-folks +said they voted. They come home and say how they voted all I know about +voting. + +"Walker Avenue in Memphis is named for Mr. Walker Hayes and Macremore +was named for him or by him one. + +"We never was give a thing at freedom but papa was buying a place from +his master and got in debt and sold it. I don't own a home. + +"I have high blood pressure and the Welfare gives me $8 a month. I'm not +able to work. When you been used to a good plenty it is mighty bad to +get mighty near helpless." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Senia Rassberry + 810 Catalpa Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +"Yes'm, I know what I hear em say. Well, in slavery times I helped make +the soldiers' clothes. + +"I was born on the old Jack Hall place on the Arkansas River in +Jefferson County. + +"I know I was 'leven years old when peace declared. I reckon I can +member fore the War started. I know I was bastin' them coats and pants. + +"My old master's name was Jack Hall and old mistress' name was +Priscilla. Oh, yes'm, they was good to me--just as good to me as they +could be. But ever' once in awhile they'd call me and say, 'Senia.' I'd +say, 'What you want?' They say, 'Wasn't you out there doin' so and so?' +I'd say, 'No.' They say, 'Now, you're tellin' a lie' and they'd whip me. + +"I was the house girl, me and my sister. My mammy was the cook. + +"Old master had two plantations. Sometimes he had a overseer and +sometimes he didn't. + +"Oh, they had plenty to eat, hog meat and cracklin' bread. Yes ma'am. I +loved that, I reckon. I et so much of it then I don't hardly ever want +it now. They had so much to eat. Blackberry cobbler? Oh Lawd. + +"How many brothers and sisters? Me? My dear, I don't know how many I had +but I heard my mother say that all the chillun she did have, that she +had 'leven chillun. + +"Our white folks took us to Texas durin' of the War. I think my old +master said we stayed there three years. My mother died there with a +congestive chill. + +"We come back here to Arkansas after freedom and I think my father +worked for Jack Hall three or four years. He wouldn't let him leave. He +raised my father and thought so much of him. He worked on the shares. + +"After freedom I went to school. I learnt to read and write but I +just wouldn't _do_ it. I learnt the other chillun though. I did +_that_. I was into ever'thing. I learnt them that what I could do. +Blue Back? Them's the very ones I studied. + +"In slavery times I had to rise as early as I could. Old master would +give me any little thing around the house that I wanted. They said he +was too old to go to war. Some of the hands run off but I didn't know +where they went to. + +"Some of the people was better off slaves than they was free. I don't +study bout things now but sometimes seems like all them things comes +before me. + +"I used to hear em talkin' bout old Jeff Davis. I didn't know what they +was talkin' bout but I heered em. + +"I was sixteen when I married and I had eleven chillun. All dead but +four. + +"Yes'm, I been treated good all my life by white and black. All of em +loved me seemed like. + +"I been livin' in Arkansas all my life. I never have worked in the +field. I always worked in the house. I always was a seamstress--made +pants for the men on the place. + +"After I come here to Pine Bluff I worked for the white folks. Used to +cook and wash and iron. Done a lot of work. I _did_ that. + +"I been blind 'leven years but I thank the Lord I been here that long. +Glory to Jesus! Oh, Lord have mercy! Glory, glory, glory to Jesus!" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Clay Reaves, (light mulatto, large man) + Palestine, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I will be eighty years old my next birthday. It will be July 6th. +Father was bought from Kentucky. I couldn't tell you about him. He +stayed on the Reaves place that year, the year of the surrender, and +left. He didn't live with mother ever again. I never did hear no reason. +He went on Joe Night's farm. He left me and a sister older but there was +one dead between us. Mother raised us. She stayed on with the Reaves two +years after he left. The last year she was there she hired to them. The +only thing she ever done before freedom was cook and weave. She had her +loom in the kitchen. It was a great big kitchen built off from the house +and a portico joined it to the house. I used to lay up under her loom. +It was warm there in winter time. I was the baby. I heard mother say +some things I remember well. + +"She said she was never sold. She said the Reaves said her children need +never worry, they would never be sold. We was Reaves from back yonder. +Mother's grandfather was a white man. She was a Reaves and her children +are mostly Reaves. She was light. Father was about, might be a little +darker than I am (mulatto). At times she worked in the field, but in +rush time. She wove all the clothes on the place. She worked at the loom +and I lay up under there all day long. Mother had three girls and five +boys. + +"Mr. Reaves, we called him master, had two boys in the army. He was a +real old man. He may have had more than two but I know there was two +gone off. The white folks lived in sight of the quarters. Their house +was a big house and painted white. I've been in there. I never seen no +grand parents of mine that I was allowed to claim kin with. + +"When I got up some size I was allowed to go see father. I went over to +see him sometimes. After freedom he went to where his brothers lived. +They wanted him to change his name from Reaves to Cox and he did. He +changed it from James Reaves to James Cox. But I couldn't tell you if +at one time they belong to Cox in Kentucky or if they belong to Cox in +Tennessee or if they took on a name they liked. + +"I kept my name Reaves. I am a Reaves from start to finish. I was raised +by mother and she was a Reaves. Her name was Olive Reaves. Her old +mistress' name was Charlotte Reaves, old master was Edmond Reaves. Now +the boys I come to know was John, Bob; girls, Mary and Jane. There was +older children. Mother was a sensible, obedient woman. Nobody ever +treated her very wrong. She was the only one ever chastised me. They +spoiled me. We got plenty plain rations. I never seen nobody married +till after the surrender. I seen one woman chastised. I wasn't close. I +never learned what it was about. Old Master Reaves was laying it on. + +"Mother moved to New Castle, Tennessee from Mr. Reaves' place. We +farmed--three of us. We had been living southeast of Boliver, Tennessee, +in Hardeman County. I think my kin folks are all dead. Father's other +children may be over in Tennessee now. Yes, I know them. Mother died +over at Palestine with me. She always lived with me. I married twice, +had one child by each wife. Both wives are dead and my children are +dead. + +"Mother said I had three older brothers went to the Civil War and never +come back home. She never heard from them after they went off. I don't +know but it was my understanding that they was to be soldiers. I don't +recollect them. + +"Mother got so she wasn't able to work in the field several years before +she died. She worked in the field long as she was able. She lived with +me all my whole life till she died. But I farmed. Some years we done +well and some years we jess could live. I farmed all my life but a few +years. I love farm life. It is independent living. I mean you are about +your own man out there. I work my garden out at my shop now. I make +baskets and bottom chairs at Palestine. A few years I kept Mrs. +Wilkerson's yard and garden. Her husband died and she moved off to +Memphis. They did live at Palestine. + +"I heard it said that Reaves said he could keep his own farm. The Ku +Klux never bothered us. I have heard a lot of things but I am telling +you what I know. I don't know nothing about the Civil War nor the Ku +Klux. I was most too small a boy at that time to know much. + +"I used to vote. Can't write my name. Don't fool with it. + +"I went to school on rainy days. I went a few other days. People used +to have to work. I always wanted to work. I piddle around all the time +working now. I went to colored teachers all together. I can read a +little. + +"I had a brother-in-law in Arkansas. I heard a lot of talk. I come on +a visit and stayed three months. I went back and moved here. I come to +this State--over at Palestine--March 11, 1883 on Sunday. I have a good +recollection, or I think I have for my age. I've lived a pretty sensible +life, worked hard but had good health. If I had another life to live now +I would go to the farm. I love farm life. + +"I chop wood, garden, go in the woods get my splints for baskets, +chairs. I live by myself. I eat out some with I call them kin. They are +my sister's children. I get some help, $10 and commodities. + +"When I did vote I voted Republican or I thought I did. But now if I did +vote, I might change up. Times have changed. + +"I don't know much about the young generation. I do talk with +them--some. They are coming up in a changed time. I wouldn't talk +against the colored race of people. Some of them work--are good. Some +don't. I think some will not work. Maybe they would. I come to know +mighty little about them--no more than I know about the white girls and +boys. I see them on the streets about as much as I ever see colored +folks anywhere." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Jane Reece + 819 W. Ninth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85 + + +"I know this--I'm 85. I was born in North Carolina. + +"Oh, yes'm, I 'member the War. + +"I'm three thousand miles from my home. + +"Old John Blue (Belew?) was my white folks. + +"I did have good white folks. Yes ma'am, I'll say that. Stayed there a +long time after we was sot free. They was good to us. + +"My mother was the mother of twelve chillun--she was a fast breeder. + +"I was the onliest girl and old missis was just wild about me. I had +good owners. I don't remember no hard treatment among 'em. + +"I 'member she used to have me runnin' from house to house totin' a +little note. That's the reason I had such a good time. Heap of times I +slept up at the big house with old missis. + +"I got a good memory. We was allowed to sing and pray. I know our white +folks was good that way. I'll say that for 'em. I won't go back on 'em. + +"Our folks stayed right on there a long time. + +"My father died three years after ever'thing had done got quiet and +peaceful. + +"I left my husband back there and come here to Arkansas with my mother. + +"The bigges' work I done--I used to be terrible 'bout cookin', washin' +and ironin', and field work. Ever'thing a man ever done I've done--cut +wood, cut down sprouts, barn brush--I've done ever'thing. + +"Oh yes, I went to school a whole lot. Got so I could read. Used to +write too, but all that done left me. + +"I'm gwine tell you the truth, lady. I don't know whether the folks is +better off free or not. They is better off in one way--they is free--but +this young race is the devil." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Frank Reed, + 1004 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was a little boy pickin' up chips and helpin' feed the hog in slavery +times for old master. Name was George Houston. That was in Alabama. + +"I reckon I do remember George Houston. As far as I know he was good to +us. I remember when he died. + +"Our people stayed right there after freedom. My mother was a Houston +till she married. + +"I reckon I do remember the paddyrollers. I remember the hounds runnin' +too. I never thought I would remember that no more. + +"They didn't get after me 'cause I was too little. It didn't last long +enough for 'em to get after me. + +"I'm sick and not able to help myself. I got run over by a wagon. + +"I'm livin' here with my daughter. Her husband is a preacher and they +got eight children, so you can imagine how much they can do for me. + +"One word of the white folks is worth a thousand of ours." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: James Reeves + 2419 W. Twentieth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 68 +Occupation: Preacher + + +"I was born in 1870 down in Ouachita County about fourteen miles south +of Camden going on toward El Dorado. They didn't have no railroad then. +I was a young man when they put the branch through. You see, I was born +five years after slavery, but I remember my mother, my grandmother, and +my great-grandmother. They taken me and talked to me freely and I know +everything they knew. + + +Great-Grandmother on Mother's Side + +"My great-grandmother belonged to the Goodmans. Her master was named +Bob Goodman. She lived to get one hundred thirteen years old. From the +children of the old master, I got the information concerning her age. +I looked it up after emancipation. One of old master's sons was named +Frank Goodman, and another was named Norphleet Goodman, and there was +another whose name I don't recall. + +"My grandmother, great-grandmother, was named Frankie Goodman. I wasn't +here in slavery time, but I knew her after emancipation. + + +Grandmother on Mother's Side + +"My grandmother was named Hannah Goodman. These were different Goodmans +but they were kin to these others. There was a large family of them. +I don't know the correct age of my grandmother but she was up in the +eighties when she died. + + +Mother + +"My mother was born a Goodman, but she married Reeves, my father. The +record of their marriage I ain't got. Back there, they didn't keep up +like you and I do, and we don't keep up like these younger folks do. +Near as I could get it, she lived to be about seventy-one years old. + + +Father + +"My father was named Adam Reeves. His master was named Rick Reeves. My +father was born in Union County about ten miles from El Dorado. You +might say north of El Dorado because he lived south of Camden. He lived +there all his life. I have known him to move out of Ouachita County into +Union, and from Union back to Ouachita. + + +Grandfather on Mother's Side + +"My grandfather on my mother's aide was Henry Goodman. His mistress was +a woman by the name of Lucy Goodman. She was the same woman who owned my +mother. There was a big family of them Goodmans. + +"His age--he lived to be about eighty years old. He died in Hot Spring +County. + + +Grandmother on Father's Side + +"My grandmother on my father's side was named Hetty. Her master was +named Sam Abbott. She lived right close to seventy-four or seventy-five +years. She been gone quite a while now. She used to live with papa. + + +Other Ancestors + +"I don't know so much about another of my ancestors. + + +Wife + +"My wife didn't have many people. She knows her mother, her mother's +mistress, and all. Her ma was named Martha Henson. That was her married +name. Her mistress' last name was Stribling. Martha Henson was a +well-treated slave. The Striblings lived in Rockport, Arkansas, but +their native home was Georgia. I don't know where the Striblings are +now. The old man died before the Civil War broke out. I guess they are +all dead and in torment. My wife's grandmother and grandfather on her +mother's side were gone so far back that neither she nor I know anything +about them. + + +Whippings + +"My great-grandmother on my mother's side was in Union County when I +knew anything of her--close to El Dorado. I was about twenty-two years +old when she died. She was tall and spare built, dark ginger cake color. +Coarse straight black hair that had begun to mingle with gray. She never +did get real gray, and her hair was never white. Even when she died, at +a hundred and thirteen years, her hair was mostly black mingled with +gray. + +"The overseer knocked her in the head in slavery times, and they had to +put a silver half-dollar in her head to hold her brains in. I have seen +the place myself. When I was a little fellow she used to let me feel the +place and she would say, 'That's where the overseer knocked granny in +the head, son. I got a half-dollar in there.' I would put her hair +aside--my but she had beautiful hair!--and look at the place. + +"My wife could tell you what my mother told her. She has seen the marks +on my mother's back and has asked, 'Mama, what's all these marks on your +back?' And mama would say, 'That's where I was whipped in slavery times, +daughter.' She never did like to tell the details. But the scars were +awful. + +"My grandmother was roughly treated and she had pretty near lost her +eyesight from the ill treatment. She got so before she died that she +could hardly see to go nowhere. I don't know what it was they done to +her that made her eyesight bad, but she insisted that it was due to bad +treatment in slavery time. + + +Patrollers + +"I have heard that the pateroles used to run the slaves if they didn't +have a pass from their mistress and master. The pateroles would run them +and catch them and whip them. + + +How Freedom Came + +"All my mother knew was that it got out that the Negroes were free. The +day before the old woman told them that they were free, my grandfather, +Henry Goodman who was a teamster, old mis' called him and told him to +tell all the darkies to come up to the house the next day. + +"Next morning, she said, 'Henry, you forgot what I told you. I want you +to call all the darkies up here this morning.' Henry had a voice like a +fog-horn. He started hollering. I wish I could holler the way he did, +but I got to consider the neighbors. He hollered. 'Tention, 'tention, +hey; Miss Lucy says she wants you all up to the big house this morning. +She's got somepin to tell you.' + +"They all come up to the yard before the house. When they got there, she +says to him--not to them; she wouldn't talk to them that morning; maybe +she was too full--'Henry, you all just as free now as I am. You can stay +here with Miss Lucy or you can go to work with whomsoever you will. You +don't belong to Miss Lucy no more.' + +"She had been sick for quite a bit, and she was just able to come to the +door and deliver that message. Three weeks after that time, they brought +her out of the house feet foremost and took her to the cemetery. The +news killed her dead. That's been seventy years ago, and they just now +picking up on it! + + +Slave Time Amusements + +"The old people say they used to have breakdowns in slave +time--breakdown dances with fiddle and banjo music. Far after slavery, +they had them. The only other amusement worth speaking about was the +churches. Far as the churches was concerned, they had to steal out and +go to them. Old man Balm Whitlow can tell you all about the way they +held church. They would slip off in the woods and carry a gang of +darkies down, and the next morning old master would whip them for it. +Next Sunday they would do the same thing again and get another whipping. +And it went on like that every week. When old man Whitlow came out from +slavery, he continued to preach. But the darkies didn't have to steal +out then. He's dead now, him and the old lady both. + + +Houses + +"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them would be hewed and put +up well. I have seen lots of them. Sometimes they would dob the cracks +with mud and would have box planks floors, one by eight or one by ten, +rough lumber, not dressed. Set 'em as close together as they could but +then there would be cracks in them. I can carry you to some old log +houses down in Union County now if they haven't been torn down recently. + +"One old log house there used to be old lady Lucy Goodman's home. It +has four rooms. It has a hall running through it. It was built in slave +times. There is a spring about two hundred yards from it. That is about +ten or twelve feet deep. There is a big cypress tree trunk hollowed out +and sunk down in it to make a curbing. That cypress is about two or +three feet across. The old man, Henry Goodman, sunk that cypress down in +there in slavery time. He drove an ox team all the time. That is all the +work he done. She would tell all the overseers, 'Now, don't you fool +with Henry because we ain't never whipped him ourselves.' + +"I don't know who it is that is living now. It's been fifty years ago +since I was there. + + +Right After Freedom + +"Right after freedom, when the surrender came, my mother was just a girl +'bout fifteen or sixteen. She married after freedom. Her and her husband +farmed for a living--you know, sharecropped. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"The Ku Klux and the pateroles were the same thing, only the Klan was +more up to date. It's all set up with a hellish principle. It's old +Pharaoh exactly. + +"The Ku Klux Klan didn't have no particular effect on the Negro except +to scare him. + +"When the emancipation came about, the people of the South went to work +to see what they could do about it. The whole South was under martial +law. Some of the people formed the Ku Klux Klan to keep the Negro down. +I never remember that they bothered any of our family or the people in +our house. But they scared some and whipped more, and killed some. + + +Political Trouble about 1888 + +"The darkies and the white folks in Union County had an insurrection +over the polls about the year 1888. In them days, when you wanted to put +a Republican man in, you didn't have to do much campaigning. They +just went to the polls and put him in. Everybody that could vote was +Republican. In the fall of 1888 they had a great trouble down there, and +some of them got killed. They went around and commanded the Negroes not +to go to the polls the next day. Some of the Negroes would tell them, +'Well, I am going to the polls tomorrow if I have to crawl.' And then +some of them would say, 'I'd like to know how you goin' to vote.' The +nigger would ask right back, 'How you goin' to vote?' The white man +would say, 'I'm goin' to vote as I damn please.' Then the nigger would +say, 'I'm going to do the same thing.' That started the trouble. + +"On Sunday before the election on Monday, they went around through that +county in gangs. They shot some few of the Negroes. As the Negroes +didn't have no weapons to protect theirselves, they didn't have no +chance. In that way, quite a few of the Negroes disbanded their homes +and went into different counties and different portions of the state and +different states. Henry Goodman, my grandfather, came into Hot Spring +County in this way. + + +Opinions + +"Roosevelt has got himself in a predicament. They are drunk and don't +know what to do. The whole world is stirred up over why one-fourth of +the world should rule the other three-fourths. One-fourth of the world +is white. The Bible says a house divided can't stand. The people don't +know what to do. Look how they fight the Wage Hour Bill. Look at the +excitement they raised when it was first suggested that the Union and +Confederate veterans meet together. + +"We were savages when we came over here. Everything we got and +everything we know, good and bad, we got from the white folks. Don't +know how they can get impatient with us when everything we do they +learnt us. + +"Roosevelt has done more than any Democrat that has ever been in the +Chair. He had to do something to keep down a rebellion. Then we like to +had one as it is through the labor question. + +"The poor white man always has been in a tight [HW: place]. He was +almost as much oppressed as the Negro. + +"The young people of today ain't got no sense. They don't give no +thought to nothing. They don't know how to think at all. All the +schools and education they give don't make them think. If I had as much +education as they have, I would be able to accomplish something. The +teachers don't press down on them and make them know what they go over. +There is a whole lot of things happening now. + + +Old People in Pulaski County + +"Out in Pulaski County, going west out the Nineteenth Street Pike till +you strike the Saline County line, there are quite a few old colored +people. I guess you would find no leas than twenty-five or thirty out +that way. There is one old man named Junius Peterson out that way who +used to run a mill. If you find him, he is very old and has a good +memory. He is a mulatto. You could get out to him by going down till you +come to a place that is called the Henderson Lane. You turn to the right +and go off the pike less than a mile and you come to a big one-story +house settin' on a hill where Peterson lives. Right on beyond that about +three-fourths of a mile on the right side of the road, you come to +George Gregory's. The mother of my church is about eighty-one years old +but she is over in Saline County. Her name is Jane Joyner. + +"There are quite a few old persons around Woodson that can give you +information. But that is in Saline County, I think. Sweet Home, +Wrightsville, Toltec--all of them have a few old colored persons on the +farm that was here in slavery times." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Reeves' story was taken because of his clear memories of his parents +and grandparents. He described to me an old log house still standing in +Union County. + +I got all agog with excitement. I asked him for the exact location. He +gave it. Then I suggested that maybe he would go down with me sometime +to visit it. He agreed. Then at the last moment caution began to assert +itself, and I said, "When was the last time you saw the cabin?" + +He reflected a moment; then he said, "Waal, I guess it was a little more +'an fifty years ago." + +I lost my enthusiasm. + +Reeves told the Phill-la-me-york story which was told by Austin Pen +Parnell. You will find it in his story. The only difference between his +story and Parnell's is that Reeves had the conclusion. He claimed that +the old master got in a fight with one of the slaves present and yelled +out his identity when he was getting badly beaten. The story sounds +like it came from the Arkansas folklore collection or from someone who +contributed it to that collection. + +An aftermath of Reeves' story is finding out that most people consider +Henry Banner, whose story has been previously given and whose age was +given as eighty-nine, is considered by many persons to be ninety-four. + +Neely, one of the adult school-teachers, says that he has gone over +Banner's life carefully with him, and that he must have been twenty-one +or twenty-two at the close of the War because during slavery, he had +experience at logging, or rather at logrolling, a work so difficult that +only full-grown men were used at it. Since Banner is slightly built, +there is scarcely a possibility that he did such work before the normal +time. + +[HW: Cf. 30715 for interview with Parnell.] + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person Interviewed: Shepherd Rhone + 10th and Kentucky + Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 75 + + +"Yes ma'am, I was bred and born in 'sixty-three in Phillips County, +Arkansas, close to Helena, on old Judge Jones' plantation. Judge Jones, +he was a lawyer. Remember him? I ought to, he whiped me enough. His +wife's name was Caroline Jones. She used to smack my jaws and pull +my ears but she was a pretty good woman. The old judge was a raw one +though. You had to step around or he'd step around for you. + +"I stayed right there till I was grown. My mother was named Katie Rhone +and my father was named Daniel Rhone. My mother was born in Richmond, +Virginia and my father in Petersburg, Virginia. + +"Judge Jones brought em here to Arkansas. My father was a bodyguard for +old Judge Jones' son Tom in the War. My father stuck with him till peace +declared--had to do it. + +"They was thirteen of us chillun and they is all gone but me, and I'll +soon be gone. + +"I know when the Yankees come I run from em. When peace declared, the +Yankees come all through our house and took everything they could get +hold of to eat. + +"The only reason the Yankees whipped the South was they starved em. + +"I know one time when peace declared I caught afire and I run and jumped +in a tub of water and I had sense enough not to tell my mother. A girl I +was raised up with went and told her though. + +"After freedom I worked for old Judge Jones on the half system. He give +me everthing that was due me. When he was eighty years old, he called +all his old tenants up and give em a mule and twenty-five dollars. He +was pretty good to em after all. + +"I went to free school in the summertime after the crops was laid by, I +can read and write pretty good. + +"I came here to Jefferson County in 'eighty-six and I put in thirty-six +years at the Cotton Belt Shops. When that strike come on they told us +colored folks to quit and I never went back. I worked for em when she +was a narrow gauge. + +"I worked in the North three years. I nightwatched all over St. Louis +and Madison, Illinois. I liked it fine up there--white folks is more +familiar up there and seems like you can get favors. If I don't get +somethin' here, I'm goin' back up there. + +"When I got big enough I voted the Republican ticket and after they got +this primary. I think the colored people ought to vote now cause they +make em pay taxes. + +"I'll tell you right now, the younger generation is goin' to the dogs. +We'll never make a nation of em as long as they go out to these places +at night. They ought to be a law passed. When nine o'clock comes they +ought to be home in bed, but they is just gettin' started then. + +"I belong to the Catholic Church. I think it's a pretty good church. We +have a white priest and I'll tell you one thing thing--you can't get a +divorce and marry again and stay in the Catholic Church." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Dora Richard + 3301 W. 14th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"I was born in South Carolina and I was my mother's baby chile. + +"Jacob Foster was our old master and he sold my mother over in east +Tennessee. Now of cose she wasn't put upon the block and sold. She was +the house woman and spin and wove. After they sold her my father run +off. Oh sure, they caught him and I know old mistress said, 'Now, Jacob, +if you want to go where Lydia is, you can go.' So they sold him near +her. + +"I stayed with the Fosters till peace was declared and ever'thing was +declared free. Then my father come after me. + +"I can just sketch things. I try to forget it. My mother and father was +pretty agreeable when they was set free. + +"In Tennessee we stayed at the foot of Lookout Mountain and I can +remember seein' the cannon balls. + +"Here's the way I want to tell you. Some of the white people are as good +to the colored people as they could be and some of em are mean. My own +folks do so bad I'm ashamed of em. + +"So many of the colored of the South have emigrated to the North. I have +lived there and I don't know why I'm here now. + +"Some of my color don't like that about the Jim Crow Law, but I say if +they furnish us a nice comfortable coach I would rather be with my own +people. And I don't care to go to the white folks' church. + +"My mother used to tell me how they used to hide behind trees so the +boss man couldn't see em when they was prayin' and at night put out the +light and turn the pot down. + +"I went to school in Tennessee. I never will forget it. I had a white +teacher. He was in the War and he had a leg shot off. I went through the +sixth grade and was ready for the seventh Ray's Arithmetic. I walked +four miles there and four miles back--eight miles a day. + +"I can remember too when my mother and father was baptized. I know mama +come out of the water a shoutin'. Oh, that was good times then. I felt +better when I was under my mother cause when I married my life was over. +I raised about ten children. + +"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my sister's house lookin' for her +husband. I know I was in the bed and I raised up. I was scared you know. + +"When I hear some colored folks say they wish the old slavery times was +back, I just knows they is lazy. They don't want any responsibility." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Jim Ricks + 517 E. 22nd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in slavery times. I 'member runnin' from the Yankees when +they wanted to carry me off. Just devilin' me, you know. You know how +little chillun was 'bout white folks in them days. + +"I went to school three weeks and my daddy stopped me and put me to +work. + +"Old master was named Jimmie Ricks. They named me after him, I think. + +"My mother said he was a mighty good master. Didn't 'low his niggers +whipped. + +"Yes'm, I was born and raised in Arkansas, down here in Calhoun County. + +"I had a chance to learn but I was a rowdy. I wanted to hunt. I was a +mighty huntsman. + +"I was a good worker too. White folks was all stuck on me 'cause I was a +good worker. + +"I did farm work and then did public work after the crops was laid by. +But now I got too old to work. + +"I seen the Ku Klux once or twice when they was Ku Klukin' around. Some +of 'em would holler 'Kluk, kluk, kluk.' I was quite small, but I could +remember 'am 'cause I was scared of 'em. + +"I farmed all my life till year before last. I was a good farmer too. + +"I used to vote years ago. I voted Republican. Yes ma'am. + +"Younger generation ain't near like they was when I was young. I was +well thought of. Couldn't be out after sundown or they'd bump my head. +My stepfather would give me a flailin'. I thought he was mean to me but +I see now he done right by whippin' me. + +"I know in slavery times they got plenty of somethin' to eat. Old master +fed us well." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Charlie Rigger + R.F.D., three miles, Palestine, Arkansas +Age: 85 plus, doesn't know age + + +"I was born six miles from Mounticellar close to the line of Morgan and +Jasper County. Mother belong to the Smiths. Her father was part Creek +(Indian). They all was sold to Floyd Malone. His wife was Betsy Malone. +They had five children. + +"When I was a child I lay under the loom day after day picking up the +sickle. Ma was a cook and a weaver too. + +"Malone was a good man but his wife was one of 'em. She was a terrible +piece of humanity. Father was a farm hand. They had a gin, a shoe shop, +and a blacksmith shop all on Floyd Malone's place. I picked a little +cotton before 'mancipation. Floyd Malone had to buy my mother to git her +where my father was. + +"Some of the boys wore dresses till they was twelve or fifteen years +old. One fellar rode a mule or cow one the other to preaching. While +he sit talking to his gal at the window a steer cone up and et off his +dress tail. Boys got to courting before they got to take off their long +shirts. + +"They wasn't so good to mother. She run off several times. She went +'bout one and one-half miles to her mother on the Compton place. They +didn't whoop her. They promised her a whooping. They whooped her and me +too but I never knowed 'em to whoop my father. When they whoop my mother +I'd run off to place we lived and crawl under the house. + +"We chillun had nothing to do wid coffee. We drunk milk out little +bowls. We'd turn it up or lap it out which one could do the best. They +fed us. We'd ask for more till we got filled up. + +"I recollect the soldiers come by in July 1863 or 1864 and back in +December. I heard talk so long 'fore they got there I knowed who they +was. They took my oldest brother. He didn't want to go. We never heard +from him. He never come back. My white master hid out. He didn't go +to war. One son went and come back. It was the Yankees made my oldest +brother go. The first crowd in July swapped their wore-out scrub stock +for our good stock. That second crowd cleaned them out, took our hogs. +Miss Betty had died 'fore they come in July. That second crowd come in +December. They cleaned out everything to eat and wear. They set the +house 'fire several times with paper and coal oil (kerosene). It went +out every time. One told the captain. He come up behind. It went out +every time. He said, 'Let's move on.' They left it clean and bare. We +didn't like them. We had meat hid in the cellar. We got hungry that +spring sure as you born. + +"The old man married pretty soon after freedom. He married young to what +he was. + +"I didn't find much fault to slavery 'cepting the abuse. We et three +times a day and now if I get one piece I do well. Mother cooked, washed, +ironed and spun four cuts a day. We all et at the master's kitchen three +times a day. We had thirty-two families. I've heard that ag'in time and +ag'in so as I recollect it till now. We didn't have to work no harder +'en we do now if you have a living. + +"Master waited till all there. He had a horn made sorter like a bugle +for that business. Called us to our meals. We stayed a year. Went to his +brother's one year, then to Major Lane's big farm. We had to work about +the same as b'fore freedom. Not much change. + +"The Ku Klux come 'round right smart. Some had on skin coverings, cow +heads and horns. Some wore white sheets and black dresses on white +horses. They was scary looking. They would whoop and kill too. I was too +scared to get caught off at night. + +"Mother died. I was traveling about. I spent thirteen months in +Mississippi. Three winters right in Memphis. I married in Mississippi. I +left two daughters in Georgia. My wife died. I come to Arkansas in 1902. +I live all alone. + +"This present generation is traveling too fast. It-is-to-be. Fast +traveling and education. Times not good as it always have been b'fore +that last war (World War). When the white folks start jowing we black +folks suffers. It ain't a bit our fault. Education causes the black man +to see he is bit (cheated) but he better not say a word. It very good +thing if it is used right. Fast traveling is all right in its place. But +too many is traveling and they all want to be going. We got into pretty +fast time of it now. It-is-to-be and it's getting shoved on faster." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Ida Rigley, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was born in Richmond, Virginia. Colonel Radford and Emma Radford +owned my mother. They had a older girl, Emma and Betty and three boys. I +called her Miss Betty. + +"My mother was Sylvia Jones and she had five children. Bill Jones was my +father. He was a born free man and a blacksmith at Lynchburg, Virginia +in slavery times. + +"He asked Colonel Radford could he come to see my mama and marry her. +They had a wedding in Colonel Radford's dining room and a preacher on +the place married them. They told me. My father was a Presbyterian +preacher. I heard papa preach at Lynchburg. He had a white principle but +no white blood. I never knew him very much till long after freedom. + +"Miss Betty Radford was raising me for a house girl. I was younger +than her children. Mother was a weaver for all on the place. Old aunt +Caroline was the regular cook but my mother helped to cook for hands he +hired at busy seasons of the year. My sisters lived in the quarters and +mama slept with them. She helped them. They worked in the field some. +They was careful not to overwork young hands. They cooked down at the +quarters. They had a real old man and woman to set about and see after +the children and feed them. The older children looked after the babies. +When Miss Betty went off visiting she would send me down there. I did +love it. + +"Emma and Betty went to school at Richmond in a buggy. They had a +colored boy driver. He was the carriage driver. Emma and Betty would +play with me too. Miss Betty fed me all the time. She made me a bonnet +and I can't get shed of my bonnet yet. I got four bonnets now. + +"When the white folks had a wedding it lasted a week. They had a second +day dress and a third day dress and had suppers and dinner receptions +about among the kin folks. They had big chests full of quilts and +coverlets and counterpanes they been packing back. Some of them would +have big dances. A wedding would last a week, night and day. + +"They had a farm right. We had peacocks, white guinea and big black +turkeys, cows, sheep, goats, hogs; he had deer. He kept their horns cut +off and some of the cow's horns were off. We had a acre in a garden and +had roses and all kinds of flowers. I like flowers now. Tries to have +'em. They had a gin on the place. He raised corn, rye, cotton, and +tobacco. The hands got their supplies on Saturday. On rainy days all the +women would knit, white and colored both. Miss Betty knitted some at +night in winter. They had a shop to sharpen and keep all the tools in. A +particular old man made the brooms and rakes. + +"It seem like there wasn't so many flies. Miss Betty mixed up molasses +and flour and poison and killed flies sometimes. She spread it on brown +paper. We had fly weed tea to set about too sometimes. We didn't have +to use anything regular. We didn't have no screens. We had mighty few +mosquitoes. We had peafowl fly brushes. They was mighty pretty. + +"One thing we had was a deep walled well and an ice-house. They cut ice +in blocks and put it up for winter[HW:?]. We had one spring on the place +I know. + +"They kept hounds. Colonel Radford's boys and the colored boys all went +hunting. We had 'possum and potatoes all along in winter; 'possum grease +won't make you sick. Eat all you want. I'd hear their horn and the dogs. +They would come in hungry every time. I never seen no whiskey. He had +his cider and vinegar press and made wine. We had cider and wine all +along. Colonel Radford was his own overseer and Charlie his oldest boy. +They whooped mighty little. They would stand up and be whooped. Some of +the young ones was hard-headed and rude. He advised them and they minded +him pretty well. + +"Our yards was large and beautiful; some had grass and some clean spots +about in the shade. Friday was wash day. Saturday was iron day. Miss +Betty would go about in the quarters to see if the houses was scrubbed +every week after washing. They had to wear clean clothes and have clean +beds about her place. She'd shame them to death. + +"Colonel Radford had a colored church for us all. It was a log house and +he had a office for his boys to read and write and smoke cob pipes in. +The white folks' church was at the corner of his place. I went there +most. They shouted and pat their hands. Colonel Radford was a Baptist. + +"Nearly every farm had a fiddler. Ever so often he had a big dance in +their parlor. I'd try to dance by myself. He had his own music by the +hands on his place. He let them have dances at the quarters every now +and then. Dancing was a piece of his religion. + +"I don't think our everyday frocks was stiffened but our dress up +clothes was. It was made out of flour--boiled flour starch. We had +striped dresses and stockings too. We had checked dresses. We had +goobers and a chestnut grove. We had a huckleberry patch. We had maple +sugar to eat. It was good. We had popcorn and chinquapins in the fall +of the year, I used to pick up chips to use at the pot. I had a little +basket. I picked up corn cobs. They burnt them and made corn cob soda to +use in the bread and cakes. We parched peeled sweet potatoes slice thin +and made coffee. + +"The Civil War was terrible. One morning before we was all out of bed +the Yankees come. It was about daylight. He and the three boys were +there. They didn't burn any houses and they didn't hesitate but they +took everything. They took all Miss Betty's nice silverware. They took +fine quilts and feather beds. That was in the fall of the year. They +drove off a line of our slaves (a block long) fer as from me to that +railroad. Made them go. They walked fast in front of the cavalrymen. +They took mama and my sisters. She got away from them with her girls and +found her way back to papa at Lynchburg. + +"Colonel Radford went and took some of the slave men and his boys. They +brought home plenty beds and a barrel of salt. He brought back plenty. +He sent his slave man to town any time. They had no notion leaving. + +"One time some Yankees come. I run hid around Miss Betty's long dress. +She was crying. They was pulling her rings off her fingers. I told them +to quit that. One of the mean things said, 'Little nigger, I shoot your +head off.' They took all her nice clothes. They said they took all +niggers. I sassed them. They went in another room. I shot under Miss +Betty's big skirt. They looked about for me but they thought I run off +to my mama. She was gone but they didn't know it. I seen my best times +then. We had a good time there. Miss Betty was good and kind to me. Good +as I wanted. I wish I had that good now. + + +Freedom + +"The soldiers come and I knowed it was the Yankees I hated. They took +all they could find and wasted a lot of it. I was scared. I kept hid +about. The slaves put their beds and clothes up on the wagons and went +off behind them and some clumb up in the wagons. I heard Miss Betty say, +'They need not follow them off, they are already free.' The way she said +it, like she was heart broken, made me nearly cry and I remember her +very words till this day. She was a good woman. + +"Mama come and got me long time after that and I didn't want to go nor +stay neither. It was like taking me off from my own home. Papa was +freeborn and freedom I couldn't understand till I was long grown. I +never got a whooping in my life. I was taught politeness. + +"During slavery we bought mighty little. Flour in barrels, salt. We had +Maple sugar and sorghum molasses in bounty. We was happy and had plenty +to eat and wear. + +"I learned to make the fine cakes from a Jew woman (Jewess), Mrs. Isaac. +I've been called a cook here in Forrest City. I was taught by Mrs. Isaac +to make angel food, coffee cake, white bread and white cakes. From that +I made the other kinds my own self." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +People in Forrest City send for Ida and keep her a week or two baking +Christmas and wedding cakes. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Milton Ritchie + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born in Marietta Hotel at Marietta, Georgia. The hotel belong to +Milton Stevens. He had two sons. One died fo I was born and Pink was in +the war. Mistress Thursday was old moster's wife. We all had to refugee. +My sister was down in the bottoms with all the slaves and cattle when +she died. She took sick and died suddenly. They heard the soldiers was +coming to Atlanta and knowed they would come by Marietta. Moster Stevens +sold the hotel just at the beginning of the war. He moved to the +country. Mama cooked at the hotel and in the country both. The hotel was +a brick house on the railroad where they fed a lot of people every day. +Moster Milton used to take me bout where he went, rode me on his foot +when I was a baby. After they went to the farm every evening Mistress +Thursday come get me, take me to the house. She got bread and butter, +sugar, give it to me and I slept on a pallet in her room. I never did +know why she done that. Mama had a little house she slept in. She +cooked. They never whooped me. They never whooped mama. + +"One time the Federal army camped not a great ways from us. One time I +was playing in a gully--big red ditch. I spied the Federals coming. I +flew out the ditch up the hill and across the field. They was calvary +men camped back of our field. We all left that place and refugeed to +another place. They didn't burn the house but they sent two bullets +through the walls or that house. 'Old Granny' was too old to refugee. +She kept living by herself in a house on the place. They never bothered +her. She wasn't kin to us but Moster Milton owned her and kept her fed. +We raised sugar-cane, hogs, corn, and goobers. The sugar-cane had +no top. I got a whooping every Monday. Mama whoop me. We go drink +sugar-cane juice in the trough at the mill. We got up in there with our +feet. They had to wash out the troughs. It was a wood house. It was a +big mill. He sold that good syrup in Atlanta. It wasn't sorghum. The men +at the mill would scare us but we hid around. They come up to the house +and tell on us. + +"We had moved from the farm when they burned Atlanta. From the place +where Moster Milton refugeed I could hear a roaring all the time nearly, +sometimes clearer, and the roaring was broke sometimes. + +"Moster Milton ran the farm when he run the hotel cept I was born at +the hotel and Mistress Thursday lived there then too. He had all Negro +overseers. Each overseer had a certain lot of hands to do what he told +them. He didn't have no trouble. He told them if they made something for +them and him too it would be fine, if they didn't work they would have +to do without. They had plenty they said. + +"My mama was sold on the block in Virginia when she was twelve years +old. She and her little brother sold the same day. Moster Milton Stevens +bought her. The same man couldn't buy them both, didn't have money +enough. They had a little blanket and she and her brother cut it into +and put it around their shoulders. They been sleeping together and +Moster Milton brought her home on his horse up behind him. Her mama was +crying when she left her. She never heard nor seen none of her folks no +more she told me. (The old Negro cried.) + +"My mama and papa was dark but both was mixed. They never told me if it +was white or Indian. Papa was a tall, big bony man. Mama wasn't so big +and stouter. He never tried to get away from his owners. He belong to +Sam Ritchie five or six miles away. I never beard much about them. They +had Negro overseers. Papa was a foreman. He tanned the cow hides and +made shoes for all the hands on Ritchie's place. He made our shoes over +there too. They said Stevens and Ritchies didn't keep bad dogs. Mistress +Eliza Ritchie was a Stevens before she married. Papa never was sold. He +said they was good to them. Mama was named Eliza too and papa George +Ritchie. + +"When freedom was on papa went to Atlanta and got transportation to +Chattanooga. I don't know why. He met me and mama. She picked me up and +run away and met him. We went in a freight box. It had been a soldier's +home--great big house. We et on the first story out of tin pans. We had +white beans or peas, crackers and coffee. Meat and wheat and cornbread +we never smelt at that place. Somebody ask him how we got there and he +showed them a ticket from the Freedmans bureau in Atlanta. He showed +that on the train every now and then. Upstairs they brought out a stack +of wool blankets and started the rows of beds. Each man took his three +as he was numbered. Every night the same one got his own blankets. The +room was full of beds and white guards with a gun over his shoulder +guarded them all night long. We stayed there a long time--nearly a year. +They tried to get jobs fast as they could and push em out but it was +slow work. Mama got a place to cook at--Mrs. Crutchfield's. She run a +hotel in town but lived in the country. We stayed there about a year. +Papa was hired somewhere else there. + +"Papa got us on a farm in middle Tennessee after that. We come to Mr. +Hooper's place and share cropped one year, then we went to share crop +for Wells Brothers close to Murfreesboro. I been on the farm all my life +since then. + +"The Ku Klux never pestered us. I heard about them. + +"The Welfare helps me and I would do work if I could get work I can do. +I could do light work. Times is hard. Hard to get a living. I don't mind +work. I couldn't do a day's work now. + +"The young generation is beyond me. I don't be about them much." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Alice Rivers + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 81 + + +"Yes'm, I remember when the Yankees come. I ricollect when they throwed +out all the meat from old master's smokehouse. The colored folks was +tryin' to ketch it and I know I tried to ketch it too. + +"Don't I look like I been here in Reb. time? I was born in Mississippi +on Colonel Reed's place in 1857. + +"I just know the Yankees come through. Had on blue coats with gold +lookin' buttons. I never will forget it 'cause it was so frightening. + +"I can ricollect way back there. + +"I don't know whether the white folks was good or not, we hardly ever +saw 'em. Had a old woman that cooked for the chillun at the quarters. +I ricollect they had a big old kittle and she'd cook that full of +somethin'. I know the old lady give us plenty of somethin' to eat. + +"All the white folks didn't treat their hands mean. Some of 'em was a +fool 'bout them little niggers. + +"Old woman what cooked for the chillun was old Aunt Henie and she walked +half bent with a stick. + +"I went to school some after freedom. Learned how to spell and read but +not much writin'. + +"I can't tell you 'bout no whippin's 'cause if they whipped the folks +they didn't do it at the quarters where the chillun was. + +"I been farmin' all my life till I come to Arkansas in 1916. Since then +I first cooked and washed. I ain't worked out in three years now. + +"I gets a little pension from the Welfare and I make out on that. My +granddaughter lives with me. She will finish high school in May and then +she can take care of herself. + +"I used to own this place but it was sold for taxes. Don't make any +difference if you is as old as Methuselah you got to pay them taxes. Old +Caeser started 'em and we've had to pay 'em ever since. + +"Younger generation ain't mannerly now like they was when I was young. +Chillun used to be obedient but they got to have their way now. Old +folks done put the chillun where they is now and they ought to take care +of 'em. + +"I don't know where the world gwine come to in the next five years. I +reckon they'll all be dead way they're gwine now. Storms takin' 'em away +here and war in them other countries." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: J. Roberts, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 45 or 50 +Occupation: Methodist preacher + + +"My father was a Federal soldier in the Civil War. He was from Winston, +Virginia. He went to war and soon after the end he came to Holly Grove. +He was in Company "K". He signed up six or seven papers for men in his +company he knew and they all got their pensions. Oh yes! He knew them. +He was an awful exact honest man. He was a very young man when he went +into the war and never married till he come to Arkansas. He married a +slave woman. She was a field woman. They farmed. Father sat by the hour +and told how he endured the war. He never expected to come out alive +after a few months in the war. + +"John Roberts Collins was his owner in slavery. I never heard why he cut +off the Collins. I call my own self J. Roberts." + +"The present times are hard times. Sin hath caused it all. Machinery has +taken so much of the work." + +"The present generation are fair folks but wild. Yes, the young folks +today are wilder than my set was. I can't tell you how but I see it +every way I go." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: George Robertson? or George Robinson? + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 81 + + +"My papa named Abe Robertson. His owner named Tom Robertson. I was born +in middle Tennessee. My mama named Isabela Brooks. Her master named +Billy Brooks. His wife name Mary Brooks. My master boys come through +here six years ago wid a tent show. My papa went off wid the Yankees. +Last I seed of him he was in Memphis. They took my mama off when I was +a baby to Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' her. My grandma raised +me. We stayed on the big plantation till 1880. + +"I don't want no Sociable Welfare help till I ain't able to work. I +don't want none now." + +(To be continued) [TR: no continuation found.] + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Augustus Robinson + 2500 W. Tenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born in Calhoun County, Arkansas in 1860, January 15th. I am +going according to what my daddy told me and nothing else. That is all I +could do. + + +How the Children Were Fed + +"My grandmother on my mother's side said when I was a little fellow that +she was a cook and that she would bring stuff up to the cabin where the +little niggers were locked up and feed them through the crack. She would +hide it underneath her apron. She wasn't supposed to do it. All the +little niggers were kept in one house when the old folks were working in +the field. There were six or seven of us. + + +Sold + +"My daddy was a white man, my master. His wife was so mean to me that my +master sold me to keep her from beating me and kicking me and knocking +me 'round. She would have killed me if she could have got the chance. He +[HW: My daddy] sold me to a preacher who raised me as though I were his +own son. Whenever he sat down to the table to eat, I sat down. He made +no difference at all. He raised me in El Dorado, Arkansas. His name was +James Goodwin. He sent me to school too. + + +Visited by Father + +"When Harrison and Cleveland ran for President, my [HW: white] father +came to Little Rock. Some colored people had been killed in the campaign +fights, and he had been summoned to Little Rock to make some statements +in connection with the trouble. He stopped at a prominent hotel and had +me to come to see him. When I went up to the hotel to meet him, there +were a dozen or more white men at that place. When I shook hands with +him, he said, 'Gentlemen, he's a little shady but he's my son.' His name +was Captain I.T. Robinson. He lived in Lisbon, Arkansas. + + +Mother + +"My mother's name was Frances Goodwin. She belonged to Captain Robinson. +I don't know but I think that when they came to Arkansas, they came from +Georgia. They were refugees. When the War started, people that owned +niggers ran from state to state to try to hold their niggers. + + +House + +"I lived right in the yard. We had four houses in the yard and three of +them was made of logs and one was made out of one-by-twelve planks. I +lived in the one made out of planks. It had one big room. I reckon it +was about twenty by fifteen, more than that, I reckon. It was a big +room. There [HW: were] two doors and no windows. We had old candlesticks +for lights. We had old homemade tables. All food was kept in the +smokehouse and the pantry. The food house and the smokehouse were two of +the log cabins in the yard. + + +Schooling + +"Goodwin schooled me. [TR: First sentence lined out.] He had a teacher +to come right on the place and stay there teaching. He raised me and +brought me up just as though I was his own child. + +"I remember getting one whipping. I didn't get it from Mr. Goodwin +though. His brother gave it to me. His brother sent me to get a horse. +An old hound was laying in the way on the saddle and the bridle. He +wouldn't move so I picked up the bridle and hit him with it. He hollered +and master's brother heard him and gave me a whipping. That is the only +whipping I ever got when I was small. + + +Ku Klux + +"I heard of the Ku Klux Klan but I don't know that I ever seen them. I +never noticed what effect they had on the colored people. I just heard +people talking about them. + + +Occupational Experiences + +"The first work I did was farming--after the War. I farmed,--down close +to El Dorado, about six miles away from there. I kept that up till I was +about seventeen or eighteen years old or somewheres about there. That +was on James Goodwin's place--my last master, the man who raised me. +Then I left him and came to Little Rock. I don't remember in what year. +I went to school here in Little Rock. I had already had some schooling. +My grandmother sent me. The school I went to was called the Union +School. It was down on Sixth Street. After I left there, I went to +Capitol Hill School. I was going to school during the Brooks-Baxter War. +The statehouse was on Markham Street and Center. My grandmother's name +was Celie Robinson. She went by the name of her owner. + +"After I had gone to school several years--I don't remember just how +many--I worked down town about ten or eleven years. Then I went to +railroading. First I was with the Iron Mountain and Southern. Later, it +changed its name to the Missouri Pacific. I worked for them from 1891 +to 1935. On August 29th I received my last pay check. I have tried ever +since to get my railroad pension to which my years of service entitle me +but have been unable to get it. The law concerning the pension seems to +have passed on the same day I received my last check, and although I +worked for forty-four years and gave entire satisfaction, there has been +a disposition to keep me from the pension. While in service I had my +jaw broken in two pieces and four front teeth knocked out by a piece of +flying steel. + +"Another man was handling the steam hammer. I was standing at my regular +place doing my regular work. When that happened, I was cut down like +a weed. There wasn't a man ever thought they would see me in that job +again after that piece of steel cut me down. + +"Also, I lost my right eye in the service when a hot cinder from the +furnace flew in it while I was doing my regular work. Then I was +ruptured because of the handling of heavy pieces of iron at my work. I +still wear the truss. You can see the places where my jaw was broke and +you can see where my teeth were knocked out. + +"Out of all the ups and downs, I stuck to the company just the same +until they retired me in 1935 because of old age. The retirement board +wanted to know when I asked for a pension, why did I think I was +entitled to a pension? I told them because I had been injured through +service with the company and had honorably finished so long a period of +service. It is now admitted that I am eligible to a railroad pension but +there seems to still be a delay in paying it for some reason or other. + + +Support Now + +"I get a little assistance from the Welfare, and I get some commodities. +If it wasn't for that, I would be broke up." + +[HW: Brooks-Baxter War was about 1872-74.] + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Malindy Robinson + 8th Street, West Memphis, Arkansas +Age: 61 + +"I was born in Wilkerson County, Mississippi. My ma never was sold, She +said she was eleven years old when peace was declared. Master Sims was +grandma's owner. Grandpa was never sold. He was born in Mississippi. He +was a mulatto man. He was a man worked about the house and grandma was a +field woman. She said she never was whooped but worked mighty hard. They +was good to grandma. She lived in the quarters. My parents b'long to the +same owner. But far as I ever knowed they married long after freedom. +They was raised close to Woodville, Mississippi." + + + + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person interviewed: Tom Robinson +Aged: 88 +Home: Lives with his son on outskirts of Hot Springs + + +As I entered Goldstein Grade school for colored I passed an old +fellow sitting on the sidewalk. There was somthing of that venerable, +dignified, I've-been-a-slave look about him, so much of it that I almost +stopped to question him. Inside I entered a classroom, where a young +woman was in conference with a couple of sheepish youngsters who had +been kept in after school. + +Did she know the whereabouts of any ex-slaves? She beamed. Only the +other day an old man had appeared on the school grounds. She appealed to +her charges. Didn't they remember that she had told them about him and +about what slavery had meant. Sheepish looks were gone. They were agog +with interest. Yes 'um, they remembered. But none of the three knew his +name or where to find him. + +Another teacher entered the room. No, she couldn't remember the name. +But the old man often came up to watch the children at play. He said it +made him happy to see them getting opportunities he never could have +had. Wait a minute--he might be outside at this very moment. A clatter +of heels and calls of triumph. "Yes! Yes! Here he is!" + +Outside I dashed to _drop flat on the sidewalk_[HW:?] beside the +aged man I had passed a few minutes before. Out came my smile and a +notebook. With only a few preliminaries and amenities the interview was +in full swing. It neither startled nor confused him, to have an excited +young woman plant herself on a public sidewalk at his side and demand +his life's story. A man who had belonged to three different masters +before the age of 15 was inured to minor surprises. Tom Robinson long +since learned to take life as it came. + +He is quite deaf in one ear and hears poorly with the other. Nobody +within a quarter of a block could have been in doubt of what was going +on. A youth moved closer. The kept-after-school pair emerged from the +building and stood near us, goggle-eyed thruout the interview. When +we were finished, Robinson turned to the children and gave them, a +grandfatherly lecture about taking advantage of their opportunities, +a lecture in which the white woman sitting beside him joined +heartily--drawing liberally on comments of ex-slaves in recent +interviews concerning the helplessness felt in not being able to write +and read letters from well loved friends. + +"Where was I born, ma'am? Why it's my understanding that it was Catawba +County, North Carolina. As far as I remember, Newton was the nearest +town. I was born on a place belonging to Jacob Sigmens. I can just +barely remember my mother. I was not 11 when they sold me away from her. +I can just barely remember her. + +"But I do remember how she used to take us children and kneel down in +front of the fireplace and pray. She'd pray that the time would come +when everybody could worship the Lord under their own vine and fig +tree--all of them free. It's come to me lots of times since. There she +was a'praying, and on other plantations women was a'praying. All over +the country the same prayer was being prayed. Guess the Lord done heard +the prayer and answered it. + +"Old man Sigmens wasn't a bad master. Don't remember so much about him. +I couldn't have been 11 when he sold me to Pickney Setzer. He kept me +for a little while and then he sold me to David Robinson. All three of +them lived not so far apart in North Carolina. But pretty soon after he +bought me old men Dave Robinson moved to Texas. We was there when the +war started. We stayed there all during the war. I was set free there. + +"We lived in Cass County. It was pretty close to the Arkansas border, +and 'twasn't far from Oklahoma--as is now. I remember well when they was +first gathering them up for the war. We used to hear the cannon often. +Was I afraid? To be sure I was scared, right at first. Pretty soon we +got used to it. Somebody even made up a song, 'Listen to the Home-made +Thunder'. They'd sing it every time the cannon started roaring. + +"No, ma'am, there never was any fighting right around us. I never really +saw any fighting. Old man Dave Robinson was good to me. He didn't have +a big farm--just owned me. Treated me almost like I was one of his own +children. Course, I had to work. Sometimes he whipped me--but no more +than he had to. I was just a child and any child has got to be made to +mind. He was good to me, and old Miss was good to me. All my masters was +pretty good to me--lots better than the usual run. Which one I like the +best. Well, you might know. I kept the name Robinson, and I named my son +Dave. You might know which one I think the most of. + +"One day I was out milking the cows. Mr. Dave come down into the field, +and he had a paper in his hand. 'Listen to me, Tom,' he said, 'listen to +what I reads you.' And he read from a paper all about how I was free. +You can't tell how I felt. 'You're jokin' me.' I says. 'No, I ain't,' +says he. 'You're free.' 'No,' says I, 'it's a joke.' 'No,' says he, +'it's a law that I got to read this paper to you. Now listen while I +read it again.' + +"But still I wouldn't believe him. 'Just go up to the house,' says he, +'and ask Mrs. Robinson. She'll tell you.' so I went. 'It's a joke,' I +says to her. 'Did you ever know your master to tell you a lie?' she +says. 'No,' says I, 'I ain't.' 'Well,' she says, 'the war's over and +you're free.' + +"By that time I thought maybe she was telling me what was right. 'Miss +Robinson,' says I, 'can I go over to see the Smiths?'--they was a +colored family that lived nearby. 'Don't you understand,' says she, +'you're free. You don't have to ask me what you can do. Run along +child.' + +"And so I went. And do you know why I was a'going? I wanted to find out +if they was free too." (a chuckle and toothy smile) "I just couldn't +take it all in. I couldn't believe we was all free alike. + +"Was I happy? Law Miss. You can take anything. No matter how good you +treat it--it wants to be free. You can treat it good and feed it good +and give it everything it seems to want--but if you open the cage--it's +happy. + +"What did I do after the war was over? I farmed. I farmed all my life, +'til I got too old. I stopped three--four years ago. I lives with my +son--Dave Robinson--the one I named for my master. + +"How did I farm? Did I share crop? No, ma'am!" (Sharply as tho +repramanding the inquirer for an undeserved insult.) "I didn't share +crop, except just at first to get a start. I rented. I paid thirds and +fourths. I always rented. I wasn't a share-cropper.[A] + +[A: Socially and economically sharp distinctions are drawn between the +different classes of renters, both by owners and tenants themselves. +Families whom ambition and circumstances have allowed to accumulate +enough surplus to buy farm implements and have food for a year ahead +look with scorn on fellow farmers who thru inertia or bad luck must be +furnished food and the wherewithall to farm. In turn, families that have +forged ahead sufficiently to be able to pay cash rent on farms they +cultivate look down On both of the other groups.] + +"It was awful hard going after the war. But I got me a place--had to +share-crop for a year or two. But I worked hard and saved all I could. +Pretty soon I had me enough that I could rent. I always raised the usual +things--cotton and corn and potatoes and a little truck and that sort of +thing--always raised enough to eat for us and the stock--and then some +cotton for a cash crop. + +"My first wife, well it was kind of funny; I wasn't more than 19. She +had 11 children. Some of them was older than I was. No ma'am it wasn't +so hard on me. They was all old enough to take care of themselves. I +lived with that woman for 17 years. Then she died. + +"I been married five times. Three of my children are living. One's +here--that's Dave. Then there's one in Texarkana and there's one in +Kansas City. Two of my children's dead. The youngest died just about +last year. All my wives are dead. + +"Almost every day I comes up to sit here and watch the children. It does +me good to see 'em. Makes me feel good all over to think about all the +fine chance they has to get a good education. Sonny, you hear me? You +pay attention too, sonny. I'm watching you--you and all the other little +boys. You mind me. You learn all you can. You ought to be so thankful +you allowed to learn that you work hard. You mind me, sonny. When you're +grown up, you'll know what I'm talking about--and know I'm right. Run +along, sonny. No use hanging around the school yard too long." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Isom Rogers, Edmondson, Arkansas +Age: 67 + + +"I was born in Tunica County, Austin, Mississippi. I been in Edmondson, +Arkansas ten years. I come to do better. Said farming was good here. My +folks' owners was Master Palmer and George Rogers. My parents was never +sold. They was young folks in slavery time and at time of freedom. They +was farm hands. Their names was Pat and Ely Rogers. + +"I heard him say he made palings and went 'round mending the fences when +the ground was froze. He made boards to cover the houses with too--I +heard him say. He was strong and worked all the time at some jobs. Never +heard mother say very much. + +"I been farming and I have worked on quarter-boat and back farming. I +been here ten years." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Oscar James Rogers, Wheatley, Arkansas +Age: Up in 70's + + +"I come to dis state in 1885. I run off from my parents back in North +Carolina. They was working in a turpentine forest there. + +"When freedom was declared my folks heard 'bout a place where money was +easy to make. So they walked from down close to Charleston up there and +carried the children. I was 'bout nine or ten years old. I liked the +farm so I left the turpentine farm. I got to rambling round and finally +got to Arkansas. I run off from my folks cause they kept staying there. +I was a child and don't recollect much 'bout slavery. I was at the +quarters wid all the children. My mother b'longed to Bob Plat and my +father to a man named Rogers. My father could get a pass and come to see +us every Sunday providin' he didn't go nowhere else or stop long the +road. He came early and stay till bedtime. We all run to meet him. He +kiss us all in bed when he be leavin'. + +"I heard them say they 'spected a home and freedom but when the time +come they master forgot 'bout home cause they just took the few clothes +in bundles and left. Then they had a hard time 'cause they never thought +how freedom would be. They never axed for nothin' and they never got +nothin'. They didn't understand how to hustle lest somebody tell them +what to do next. They did have a hard time and it was cold and rocky +up in North Carolina to what they had been used to down close to +Charleston. + +"When I got out to Arkansas I like it better than any country I seed and +I say 'I'm stayin' here.' I meant to go back but I married and didn't +get no money ahead for a long time. Then I had a family of 11 children. +Jes' 'fore I married I got to go to school four months' close to Cotton +Plant, where I married. + +"When I was young I sho could knock off de work. I cummulated 80 acres +land in Lee County. I paid $900 for it, got in debt and had let it fur +'bout ($247.50) Two hundred forty-seven and a half dollars. All I got +outen it. I had a bad crop and had a little provision bill. I made on +time, man agreed to run me on then took it 'bout all. + +"Then I still was a strong man an' we bought 40 acres 14 miles from +Cotton Plant and I had it 27 years. Then lost it. + +"My second wife owned a house and garden at Wheatley half a mile or so +from town. We live over there. Our children all gone. She say she cooked +and washed and farmed for it. It cost $100.00. + +"I could do heap work if I could get it. Old man can't get 'nuff regular +work to cover my house or buy me a suit closes. The Government gives me +$10.00 a month. That's a help out but it don't go fir high as provisions +is. Me an' the old woman both too feeble to do much hard work. I gets +all the odd jobs the white folks give me. Misses, I ain't lazy, I jess +gettin' old and not able to hold out to do much. Whut I could do they +give it to the young fellows cause they do it in a hurry. + +"I used to vote right smart when they needed me to help out. I voted +for Hoover. Don't think it right the way the men settin' round and deir +wives workin' fer livin' and votin'. The women can vote if they want to +but I don't think it right. Seems lack the cart in front ob de horse +now. + +"It wouldn't do no more good to vote in the Primary than it do in the +General election. It don't do much good nohow. + +"Fur as I ever knowed the slaves had no uprisin's. They thought well +enough of their masters. Everybody worked then hard as they could. The +master he worked all time in the shop making things jess like he needed, +boards and handles, plows and things. Missus, everybody worked hard dem +days, both black and white, and that is the reason folks had plenty. The +old grandmas done work whut suited them and helped out. Now lack me, I +can't get the right work whut I able to do 'nuff to keep me livin'. It +is bad. + +"If times was bad as they was few years ago all old folks done been +rotten, starved to death. Times is better but they sho ain't all right +yet. + +"This young generation livin' so fast they stop thinkin'. They do well +to keep livin' their selves. They wastes a heap they outer save fur +rainy days. They ain't takin' no advice from old folks. I don't know +whut goiner become of them." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Will Ann Rogers + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 70 + + +"I was born three years after the surrender. I was born at Fryers Point, +Mississippi. The reason I ain't got the exact date when I was born, my +ma put it down in the Bible and the house burned up and everything in it +burned to ashes. No mam she got somebody what could write real nice to +write all the names and ages for her. + +"When ma was a young woman, she said they put her on a block and sold +her. They auctioned her off at Richmond, Virginia. When they sold her, +her mother fainted or drapped dead, she never knowed which. She wanted +to go see her mother lying over there on the ground and the man what +bought her wouldn't let her. He just took her on. Drove her off like +cattle, I recken. The man what bought her was Ephram Hester. That the +last she ever knowed of any of her folks. She say he mated 'em like +stock so she had one boy. He livin' down here at Helena now. He is Mose +Kent. He was born around Richmond, Virginia jes' lack dat she say. + +"When it nearly 'bout time for freedom a whole army of Yankees come by +and seed Mose working. They told him if he come go wid them they give +him that spotted horse and pair red boots. He crawled up on the horse +an' was gone wid 'em for a fact she said. She started right after them, +following him. She followed them night and day. She nearly starved, jess +begged 'long the road all she could. I heard her say how fast she have +to walk to keep on trail of 'em and how many nights. She say some nights +when they camped she would beg 'round and try to fill up. But she +couldn't get to Mose without them seein' her. When they got to Fryers +Point she went an' got him. They jess laughed and never give him +nuthin'. They left that army fast as they could she say. + +"She married at Fryers Point. She had jes' one boy and I had four or +five sisters. They all dead but me and Mose. He think he 'bout ninety +years old. He come here to see me last year. He sho is feeble. + +"How come I here? When I was fourteen years old my family heard how fine +this State was and moved to Helena. I lived at Moro and Cotton Plant. +Then, the way I come here was funny. A man come up there and say a free +train was comin' to go back to Africa. All who wanted to go could go. My +pa sold out 'bout all we had an' we come here lack they say. No train +come yet goin' to Africa as I seed. My pa give the white man $5.00 to +pay fer the train. Tom Watson was one of 'em too. He was a sorter leader +'mong 'em wantin' to go back. Well when the day come that the train due +to start everybody come to the depot whar the train going to stop. +There was a big crowd. Yes mam, dressed up, and a little provisions and +clothes fixed up. Jes' could take along a little. They say it would +be crowded so. We stayed around here a week or two waitin' to hear +somethin' or be ready to go. Most everybody stayed prutty close to the +depot for two or three days. Yes mam there sho was a crowd--a whole big +train full from here 'sides the other places. I jes' stayed here an' +been here ever since. The depot agent, he told 'em he didn't know 'bout +no train going to Africa. The tickets was no good on his trains. + +"How I owns this place, I'll tell you. A man here had all dis land +'round here (Negro town) laid off. He couldn't sell none of his lots. +They wouldn't buy his lots. So he got after me. We had made a good crop, +so I got up the money and bought this place. One hundred dollars is what +I give him. Others then started to settlin' in and about close to my +place. + +"I guess it was Spotsells in Virginia what raised her. She say her name +was Lizzie Spotsell Johnson. Then when Ephram Hester bought her they +learned her to do about in their house. She cooked and swept and knocked +flies and tended to the children. She stayed with 'em a pretty long time +till she run off and went to Fryers Point. + +"She may have told us about the Nat Turner rebellion but I don't +remember it. They sung a lot in my mother's time. Seemed lack they was +happier than we are somehow. She sung religious songs and one or two +field songs. I don't recollect 'em now. + +"I never did vote. I never cared nuthin' about it. Some of 'em 'round +here wouldn't miss votin' for nothin'. + +"Lawd me, chile, the times is done run ahead of me now. I'm so fur +behind I never expect to catch up. I don't pay no more attention to the +young folks, the way they act now, 'an I do my little dog there. They +don't want no advice and I would be afraid I would 'vise 'em wrong. +When my children come I tell 'em you are grown and you knows right from +wrong. Do right. That's all I know to say. + +"The way I am supported is my husband gets all the jobs he able to do +and can and the governmint give me an' him $10 a month. We has a little +garden." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: William Henry Rooks + Baptist Preacher; Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +The slaves didn't spect nothing but freedom. Jes freedom! In Africa they +was free as wild animals and then they was so restricted. Jes put in +bondage for no reason at all. + +No plantations was divided. I was born a slave and I remembers right +smart how it was. + +My master was John Freeman and his wife's name was Fannie. I went to +Como, Mississippi twice a week to get the mail all durin the war. It was +eight miles. I rode a pony. + +If you go to church you have to have a pass from the master. The +pattyrollers see you and you have to show it to them. It was just a +note. If you didn't have it they take or send you home. If they catch +you any more without a pass they whip you. They come to the church and +in all public places like the police stands around now. They rode around +mostly. Sometimes they went in droves. + +They would let you go visiting sometimes and exchange work. Some masters +was good and some was mean jess like they are now and some slaves good +and some bad. That is the way they are now. + +Some of the white men had a hundred slaves and had plenty money. The war +broke nearly all of them. The very worse thing I ever knowed about it +was some white men raised hands to sell like they raise stock now. It +was hard to have your child took off and never see or hear tell of it. +Mean man buy it and beat it up. Some of them was drove off to be sold at +auction at New Orleans. That was where some took them cause they could +get big money for them. + +I never knowed of a master to give the slaves a dime when they become +free. They never promissed them nothing. The Yankees might have to toll +them off. The hands all stayed on John Freeman's place and when it was +over he give them the privilege of staying right on in their houses. +Some left after awhile and went somewhere they thought they could do +better. + +They didn't have the Ku Klux but it was bout like it what they had. +They wore caps shine de coons eye and red caps and red garments. Red +symbolize blood reason they wore red. They broke up our preaching. Some +folks got killed. Some was old, some young--old devlish ones. They was +like a drove of varments. I guess you be scared. They run the colored +folks away from church a lot of times. That was about equalization after +the freedom. That was the cause of that. + +There was uprisings like I'm telling you but the colored folks didn't +have nothing to go in a gun if he had one. White folks make them give up +a gun. + +The first votin I done I was workin for young Henry Larson back in +Mississippi. He give my mother $120 a year to cook for his young wife +and give her what she eat and I worked on his farm. He told me to go +vote, it was election day. I ask him how was I going to know how to +vote. I could read a little. I couldn't write. The ballot box was at +Pleasant Mount. Ozan set over the box. He was a Yankee. He was the only +one kept the box. It was a wooden box nailed up and a slit in the top. +A.R. Howe and Captain Howe was two more Yankee white men there watching +round all day. Ozan was the sheriff at Sardis, Mississippi soon after +the war. Some more colored folks come up to vote. We stood around and +watched. We saw D. Sledge vote; he owned half of the county. We +knowed he voted Democrat so we voted the other ticket so it would be +Republican. I voted for President Grant. I don't believe in women +voting. They used to have the Australian Ballot System. It's a heap more +the man that's elected than it is the party. We all voted for Hoover; +he was a Republican and foe he got one term served out we was about on +starvation. I ain't voted since. That President claim to be a Democrat. +He ain't no Democrat. I don't know what he be. + +I been farming and preaching. I started preaching in Mississippi. I +joined the conference in Arkansas in 1886 and started preaching at +Surrounded Hill (Biscoe). I come here in 1884 from Pinola County. +Mississippi. I had some stock and they was fencing up everything over +there. I had no land so I come to an open country. It wasn't long before +they fenced it in. I come to Brinkley and worked for Gun and Black +sawmill and I been here forty or fifty years. I don't know jess how +long. I couldn't starve to death in a whole year here. The people +wouldn't let me. I got lot of friends, both black and white, here. + +I married December 17, 1874 in the Baptist church. Glasco Wilson was the +preacher married me. My wife died here in dis house nine years ago. We +had ten children but jes two livin now. My girl married a preacher and +live at Hope. Arkansas. My son preaches in Parson, Kansas. + +I supports my own self. I works and I preaches a little yet. I saved up +some money but it nearly give out. The young generation, some of them, +do mighty bad. Some of them is all right. Some of them don't do much +and don't save nothing. I owns this house and did own another one what +burned down. A lamp exploded and caught it while I was going off up the +road but I never looked back or I would have seen it. It seem lack now +it takes more money to do than it ever did in times before. Seems like +money is the only thing to have and get. Folks gone scottch crazy over +money, money! Both is changing. The white folks, I'm speaking bout, the +white folks has changed and course the colored folks keeping up wid +them. The old white and colored neither can't keep up wid the fast +times. I say it's the folks that made this depression and it's the folks +keeping the depression. The little fellow is squeezed clear out. It out +to be stopped. Folks ain't happy like they used to be. Course they sung +songs all the time. Religious choruses mostly. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Amanda Rosa + 817 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was nine years old in the time of the surrender. I know I was here +in that time. I don't know nothin' 'bout their carryin'-on. I know they +whipped them with hobble rods. You don't know what hobble rods is!!! +Ain't you seen these here long thin hick'ry shoots? They called hobble +rods. I don't know why they called 'em hobble rods. I know they made you +hobble. They'd put 'em in the fire and roast 'em and twist 'em. I have +seen 'em whip them till the blood run down their backs. I've seen 'em +tie the women up, strip 'em naked to their waist and whip 'am till the +blood run down their backs. They had a nigger whipper, too. + +"I was born in Salem, Alabama. I came up here about twenty-five years +ago. + +"Isaac Adair was the name of the old man who owned me. He owned my +mother and father too, Hester and Scip. Their last name was Adair, the +same as their master's. + +"I don't remember the names of my grandfather and grandmother, 'cause we +was crossed up, you see, One of my grandmothers was named Crecie and the +other was named Lydia. I don't remember my grandfather's name. I spect +I used to call 'im master. I used to remember them but I don't no more. +Nobody can't worry me 'bout them old folks now. They ast me all them +questions at the Welfare. They want to know your gran'pa and your +gran'ma. Who were they, what did they do, where did they live, where are +they now? I don't know what they did. That's too far back for me. + +"My mother and father had nine children. I have only one sister living. +All the others done gone to heaven but me and her. + +"My mother and father lived in a log cabin. They had one-legged beds +nailed to the wall. They had benches and boxes and blocks and all sich +as that for chairs. My daddy made the table we used. He made them +one-legged beds too. They kept the food in boxes and gourds. They had +these big gourds. They could cut holes in the top of them and put things +in them. My mammy had a lot of 'em and they were nice and clean too. +Wisht I had one of them now. + +"Some folks didn't have that good. We had trundle beds for the children +that would run under the big bed when they wasn't sleeping in it. We +made a straw mattress. You know the white folks weren't goin' to let 'em +use cotton, and they didn't have no chickens to git feathers from; so +they had to use straw. Oh, they had a hard time I'm tellin' you. My +mother pulled greens out of the garden and field, and cured it up for +the mattress. + +"For rations, we'd eat onions and vegetables. We et what was raised. +You know they didn't have nothin' then 'cept what they raised. All the +cookin' was done at one house, but there was two cooks, one for the +colored folks and one for the white folks. My grandma cooked for the +white people. They cooked in those big old washpots for the colored +people. We all thought we had a pretty good master. + +"We didn't know nothin' about a master. + +"I ain't positive what time the hands ate breakfast. I know they et it +and I know they et at the same time and place. I think they et after +sunrise. They didn't have to eat before sunrise. + +"When they fed the children, they cook the food and put it in a great +big old tray concern and called up the children, 'Piggee-e-e-e-e, +piggee-e-e-e-e.' My cousin was the one had to go out and call the +children; and you could see them runnin' up from every which way, little +shirt tails flyin' and hair sticking out. Then they would pour the food +out in different vessels till the children could git around them with +those muscle-shell spoons. Many of them as could get 'round a vessel +would eat out of it and when they finished that one, they'd go to +another one, and then to another one till they all got fed. + +"My master worked seventy hands they said. He had two colored overseers +and one white one. He didn't allow them overseers to whip and slash +them niggers. They had to whip them right. Didn't allow no pateroles to +bother them neither. That's a lot of help too. 'Cause them pateroles +would eat you up. It was awful. Niggers used to run away to keep from +bein' beat up. + +"I knowed one gal that ran away in the winter time and she went up into +the hollow of a tree for protection. When she came in, she was in sich +a bad condition they had to cut off both her legs. They had froze out +there. They taken care of her. They wanted her to work. She was jus' as +nice a seamstress as you ever saw. And she could do lots of things. She +could get about some. She could go on her knees. She had some pads for +them and was just about as high as your waist when she was goin' along +on her hands and knees, swinging her body between her arms. + + +Ate in the Big House + +"The cooks and my mother stayed in the white folks' yard. They weren't +in the quarters. My mother was seamstress and she was right in the house +all the day long sewing. The children like me and my sister, they used +us 'round the house and yard for whatever we could do. They didn't never +whip none of my father's children. If we done something they thought we +ought to been whipped for, they would tell father to whip us, and if he +wanted to, he would; and if he didn't want to, he wouldn't. They made a +big difference for some reason. + + +Marriage + +"They married in that time by standing up and letting someone read the +ceremony to them. My master was a Christian. There wasn't no jumpin' +over a broomstick on my master's place. The white folks didn't have no +nigger preacher for their churches. But the colored folks had 'em. They +preached out of these little old Blue Back Spellers--leastways they was +little blue back books anyhow. + + +Freedom + +"My folks was on the road refugeeing from Magnolia, Arkansas to +Pittsburg, Texas when the news came that the colored folks was free. And +my master came 'round and told the niggers they was free as he was. I +didn't hear him. I don't know where I was. I'm sure I was out playin +somewheres. + + +Slave Wages and Experiences after the War + +"My father worked in a blacksmith shop right after the War. Before the +War, he went far and near to work for the white folks. They'd risk him +with their money and everything. They would give him part of it; I don't +know how much. He brought money to them, and they sure give him money. + +"We didn't have to wear the things the other slave children had to wear. +He would order things for his family and my father would do the same for +us. When old master made his order, my father would put his in with it. + + +Family + +"I am the mother of fifteen children--ten girls and five boys. That was +enough for me. I am willing to quit off. My husband is dead. He's been +dead for thirty-five years. + + +Opinions + +"I don't know what to say about these young people. Mine are pretty +good. So, I'm 'fraid to say much about the others. + +"Lord, I don't know what we'll do if we don't get some rain. + + +Vocational Experiences + +When I was able I washed and ironed. I didn't have to do nothin' till +after my father and husband died. Then I washed and ironed and cooked +till the white folks set me out. They said I was too old. That is one +thing I hates to think of. They had the privilege to say I couldn't +work; they ought to a seen that I got somethin' to live on when I wasn't +able to work no more." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +You can't get the whole story by reading the words in this interview. +You have to hear the tones and the accents, and see the facial +expressions and bodily movements, and sense the sometimes almost occult +influence; you have to feel the utter lack of resentment that lies +behind the words that sound vehement when read. You marvel at the quick, +smooth cover-up when something is to be withheld, at the unexpected +vigor of the mind when the bait is attractive enough to draw it out, and +at the sweetness of the disposition. Some old people merely get +mellowed and sweetened by the hardships through which they have passed. +Sometimes, you wonder if some of the old folk don't have dispositions +that they can turn off or on at will. + +It is not hard to realize the reason why Amanda was treated better than +other children when you remember that she called her grandpa "Master". + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: "Cat" Ross + Brassfield, Ark. +Age: Born 1862 + + +"I was born in Releford County on old Major Ross place. I was born +durin' a battle between the North and South at Murfreesboro. The house +was on the battle ground. Mama had five children. Her name was Susanna +Wade. Papa's name was Amos Ross. He belong to Major Bill Ross. Major +Ross had ten houses houses--one at the edge of the thicket, two on Stone +river, and they was scattered around over his land. Major Ross never +went to war. Papa went with Major Billy to bury his gold. It stayed +where they put it till after the war they went and dug it up. I seen +that. When they brought it to the house, it was a pot--iron pot--full of +gold. I didn't know where they had it buried nor how they fixed it. + +"My folks was all field hands. They muster been blessed cause +they didn't get mixed up with the other nations. Grandfather's +mother--Grandma Venus--come from Africa. She'd been in bondage about +a hundred years. I recollect her well. My folks all lived to be old +people, over a hundred years old. They was all pretty well, all +Africans. + +"I have seen the Ku Klux quarter mile long and two breasted on horses. +They scared me so bad I never had no experiences with them. They run my +uncle in. He was a big dancer. One time they made him dance. He cut the +pigeon-wing for them. That was the name of what he danced. + +"I never was sold. I was give way. One of the Wades married into the +Mitchell family. Mama belong to the Wades. They give me and Mama and +Aunt Sallie--she wasn't my aunt but I called her that--to Wade's +daughter. She was the young mistress. The Wades wasn't so good to their +slaves. When freedom was declared, Papa come and got me and Mama and +took us on over to his place agin. We started sharecroppin' at Major +Ross's place. In 1881 Chick McGregor paid my way. I come to Arkansas. +I farmed all my life till 1922 to 1933 I been here in Brassfield +sawmilling. They took the mill away from here. I cain't plough, I'm not +able. I pick and hoe cotton. I work day labor. I never have got on the +Welfare." + + + + +Southfield +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson +Subject: Centennial Snow--Spring in St. Louis addition + +Name: Mattie Ross +Occupation: Gardening +Residence: South Field, Oil Field. +Age: 74 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.] + + +Ah wuz born aftuh surrender. Ah guess ah'm about 74 years ole. Mah pa +wuz er slave an mah ma wuz too. Dey moster wuz name Green Traylor an dey +lived right down dar at _Tula_ Creek. Mah mistess wuz named Martha +Traylor an dey name me aftuh huh. Mah name is Martha Lee Traylor. Aftuh +she mahried huh name wiz Martha Tatum. We worked down dar. Oh! Mah Lawd! +How we did work--all ovah dat bottom. De puttiest fiel' ah evah did see. +De Traylor's owned hit den. Later on de Tatums bought hit fum dem and +years aftuh dat de Nash's bought hit fum de Tatums. But new all uv dat +place is growed up. Nothing but er pine thicket and er black berry +thicket. Ye caint hardly walk through de place. Later on de Cobbs owned +us. George Cobb wuz his name. He lived down in de Caledonia settlement. +Ah went behin' him er many er day wid de hoe or he'd crack mah haid. +He use tuh be de sheriff here de years uv de boom an his nephew is de +sheriff now--Grady Wosley. Later en while ah wuz a gull ah werked fuh +de Swilleys an wuz partly raised on dey plantation. De ole man wuz name +Lawson Swilley. His wife, Margaret Swilley, and I clare dem two people +treated me white. She mammied me er many er day. Ah wuz bred and born +right down dar er-round Caledonia. Ah wuz a big gull durin de time uv de +centennial snow. Dis snow wuz called dat cause hit wuz de bigges snow +dat evah been. Hit wuz ovah yo haid. We had tuh spade our way evah whah +we went. Tuh de wood gitting place, tuh de sping, tuh de hoss lot, and +evah whah. De anow wuz warm an soft. We piled up so much snow till hit +took hit er half er year tuh melt. Dat snow stayed on de groun two +months. + +Ah am de muthah uv five gulls and fo' boys. Didn nairy one uv mah gulls +come in de pen till dey wuz mahried. Ah use tuh fish in er big ole fish +pond rat down whah de wesson depot is now. Years ergo people come fum +Camden an othuh places tuh fish in dat fish pond. + +Mr. Sam Austin sole old man Burgy (Burgiss?) er piece uv groun' to bury +folks in and he wuz de first man tuh die an be buried dar. So dey name +hit de Burgy Cemetery. + +Down dar in Memphis Addition atah the colored Prof. Dykes place dar use +tuh be one uv de bes' springs. Course at dat time hit wuz er big ole +fiel' den and de watuch wuz jes lak ice watuh. + +Dat make me think. Mah pa sed he went tuh de wah tuh cook fuh his ole +moster, Green Traylor. Well pa said dar wuz er spring whar dey got +watuh. Said he went tuh git watuh outen de sping and had tuh pull dead +men outn de spring an dat day drinked of'n dem dead men all while de wah +wuz going on. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Laura Rowland + (Bright Mulatto) +Age: 65? +Address: Brinkley, Arkansas + + +"My parents name was Mary Ann and Sam Billingslea. Mother's father lived +with us when I first remember. His name was Robert Todd. He was a brown +skin Negro. They said he was a West Indian. He talked of olden times but +I don't remember well enough to tell you. Father owned a home that we +was living on when I first remember. Mother was bright color, too. +Vaden, Mississippi was our trading post. Mother had twenty children. She +was a worker. She would work anywhere she was put. My folks never talked +much about slavery. I don't know how they got our place. + +"I know they was bothered by the Ku Klux. One night they heard or saw +the Ku Klux coming. The log house set low on the ground but was dug out +to keep potatoes and things in--a cellar like. The planks was wide, bout +a foot wide, rough pine, not nailed down. They lifted the planks up and +all lay down and put the planks back up. The house look like outside +nothing could go under it, it was setting on the hard ground. When they +got there and opened the doors they saw nobody at home and rode off. + +"Another time, one black night, a man--he must have been a +soldier--strided a block step with his horse and ordered supper. She +told him she didn't have nothing cooked and very little to cook. He +cursed and ordered the supper. Told her to get it. She pretended to be +fixing it and slipped out the back door down the furrows and squatted +in the briers in a fence corner. Long time after she had been out there +hid, he come along, jumped the fence on his horse, jumped over her back, +down into the lane and to the road he went. If the horse hadn't jumped +over her and had struck her he would have killed her. Now I think he was +a soldier, not the Ku Klux. I heard my father say he was a yard boy. + +"I married in Mississippi and came to Malvern and Hot Springs. He was a +mill hand. I raised three children of my own and was a chamber maid. +I kept house and cooked for Mrs. Bera McCafity, a rich woman in Hot +Springs. My husband died and was buried at Malvern. I married again, in +Hot Springs, and lived there several years. We went to the steel mill at +Gary, Indiana. He died. I come back here and to Brinkley in 1920. One +daughter lives in Detroit and one in Chicago. The youngest one is +married, has a family and a hard time; the other makes her living. It +takes it all to do her. I get $8.00 on the P.W.A. + +"They all accuse me around here of talking mighty proper. I been around +fine city folks so much I notice how they speak. + +"I don't fool with voting. I don't care to vote unless it would be some +town question to settle. I would know something about it and the people. + +"I don't know my age. I was grown when I married nearly sixty years ago. +We have to show our license to get on the W.P.A. or our age in the Bible +you understand." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Landy Rucker + 2315 W. Fourth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"I was born in 1854 in the State of Georgia, Elbert County. + +"I member some about the war. I went to the field when I was twelve. +Pulled fodder, picked peas and tended to the cow pen. I had to go then. +We had _a good master_. _Our mistress wasn't good though_. She +wouldn't give us enough to eat. Old master used to ask if we had enough +to eat and he'd pull out great big hams and cut em all to pieces and +give em to us. Old mistress would cry and say, 'You're givin' away all +my good dinner.' But she repented since the war. She said she didn't do +right. + +"We got here to Pine Bluff in '61. + +"Oh yes, I remember comin' here on the train and on the boat. + +"Old mistress whipped us when she thought we needed it. I been pretty +good all my life. + +"My father was a blacksmith and one day when I was six or seven I was +takin' his dinner when some dogs smelled the dinner and smelled me too +and they got after me. I had to climb a tree and they stayed around till +they heard some other dogs barkin' and ran off. I come down then and +took my bucket and left. Nother time some hogs chased me. They rooted +all around the tree till they heard somethin' crackle in the woods and +run off and then I'd come down. + +"After the war I went to school three days and the teacher whipped me. I +went home and I didn't go back. I went home and went to the field. I had +a mother and a sister and I tried to make a living for them. + +"I went to school a little while after that and then went to the field. +Most I know I learned by myself. + +"Yes'm, I seen the Yankees bout a year fore the war ceasted. They come +to get somethin' to eat and anything else they could get. Got the mules +and things and took my two brothers and put em in the war. One come back +after surrender and the other one died in the war. They said they was +fightin' to free the niggers from being under bondage. + +"I seen the Ku Klux. Looked like their horses could fly. Made em jump a +big high fence. They come and took my father and all the other men on +the place and was goin' to put em in the Confederate army. But papa was +old and he cried and old mistress thought a lot of him so they let him +stay. I just lay down and hollered cause they was takin' my brothers, +but they didn't keep em long. One of my brothers, six years older than +me, come up here to Pine Bluff to jine the Yankees. + +"We could hear the guns at Marks Mill. + +"I been married twice. There was about eleven years betwixt the two +marriages. + +"I worked on the farm till about '85. Then I worked in the planing mill. +I got hit by a car and it broke my hip so I have to walk on crutches +now. Then I got me a little shoe shop and I got along fine till I got so +I couldn't set down long enough to fix a pair of shoes. I bought this +house and I gets help from the Relief so I'm gettin' along all right +now." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Martha Ruffin + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was born in North Carolina, and I was seven years old when the +Surrender was. Every one of my children can tell you when they was born, +but I can't. My mother, Quinettie Farmer was her name. Brother Robert +Farmer is my cousin. He is about the same age as my husband. He got +married one week and me and my husband the next. My father's name was +Valentine Farmer. My grandmother on my mother's side was Mandy Harrison, +and my grandfather's name on my mother's side was Jordan Harrison. My +grandpa on my father's side was named Reuben Farmer, and his wife was +Nancy Farmer. I have seed my grandpa and grandma on my father's side. +But my mother didn't see them on my mother's side. + +"I 'members my daddy's white folks' names, Moses Farmer. My father never +was sold. My daddy, Valentine Farmer, was a ditcher, shoemaker, and +sometimes a tanner. My mother was a house girl. She washed and ironed. I +couldn't tell exactly what my grandparents did. My grandparents, so my +parents told me, were mostly farmers. I reckon Moses Farmer owned about +three hundred slaves. + +"I was born on Robert Bynum's place. He was my mother's owner. He +married one of the Harrison girls and my mother fell to that girl. My +mother done just about as she pleased. She didn't know nothin' about +workin' in the field till after the Surrender. + +"The way my mother and father happened to meet--my old master hired my +daddy to do some work for him and he met my mama that way. + +"The way my folks learned they was free was, a white school-teacher who +was teaching school where we stayed told my mother she was free, but +not to say nothing about it. About three weeks later, the Yankees come +through there and told them they was free and told my old boss that if +he wanted them to work he would have to hire them and pay them. The +school-teacher stayed with mother's folks--mother's white folks. The +school-teacher was teaching white folks, not niggers. She was a Yankee, +too. My mother was the house girl, and the school-teacher stayed with +her folks. The War was so hot she couldn't git no chance to go back +home. + +"My daddy farmed after the War. He farmed on shares the first year. The +next year, he bought him a horse. He finally owned his own farm. He +owned it when he died. He had about one hundred acres of land. + +"I have pretty fair health for an old woman like I am. I am bothered +with the rheumatism. The Lawd wouldn't let both of us git down at the +same time. (Here she refers to her husband who was sick in bed at +the time she made the statement. You have his story already. It was +difficult for her to tell her story, for he wanted it to be like +his--ed.) + +"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church. I haven't changed my +membership from my home. + +"I got married in 1882, in February. How many years is that? I got so I +can't count up nothin'. Fifty-six years. Yes, that's it; that's how long +I been married. I had a little sister that got married with me. She +didn't really git married; she just stood up with me. She was just a +little baby girl. They told me I was pretty near twenty-three years old +when I married. I have a daughter that's been married twenty-five years. +We had older daughters, but that one was the first one married. I have +got a daughter over in North Little Rock that is about fifty years old. +Her husband is dead. We had ten children. My daughter is the mother of +ten children too. She got married younger than I did. This girl I am +living with is my baby. I have four children living--three girls and one +boy. A woman asked me how many children I had and I told her three. She +was a fortuneteller and she wanted to tell me my fortune. But I didn't +want her to tell me nothin'. God was gittin' ready to tell me somethin' +I didn't want to hear. I've got five great-grandchildren. We don't have +no great-great-grandchildren. Don't want none." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The old lady's style was kind of cramped by the presence of her husband. +Every once in a while, when she would be about to paint something in +lurid colors, he would drop in a word and she would roll her phrases +around in her mouth, so to speak, and shift and go ahead in a different +direction and on another gear. + +Very pleasant couple though--with none of the bitterness that old age +brings sometimes. The daughter's name is Searles. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person Interviewed: Thomas Ruffin + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 82 or 84 + + +"I was born in North Carolina, Franklin County, near Raleigh. My +father's name really I don't know. Folks said my master was my daddy. +That's what they told me. Of course, I don't know myself. But then white +folks did anything they wanted to in slavery times. + +"My mother's name was Morina Ruffin. I don't know the names of my +grandparents. That is too far back in slavery for me. Of course, old man +Ruffin my father's father, which would have been my grandfather, he died +way back yonder in slave times before the war. My father gotten kilt in +the war. His name was Tom Ruffin. I was named after him. He died trying +to hold us. That man owned three hundred slaves. He never married. +Carried my mother round everywhere he went. Out of all his niggers, he +didn't have but one with him. That was in slavery time and he was a fool +about her. + +"I couldn't tell you exactly when I was born. Up until the surrender I +couldn't tell how old I was. I am somewheres around eighty-two years +old. The old lady is just about the same. We guesses it in part. We +figure it on what we heard the old folks say and things like that. I +remember plenty of things about slavery that I saw. + +"I never did much when I was a boy. The biggest thing I remember is a +mule got to kicking and jumped around in a stall. She lost her footing +and fell down and broke her neck right there in the stall. I remember +her name as well as if it was yesterday. Her name was Bird. That was +just before the war. I know I must have been at least four years old +then. You can figure that up and see what it comes to. + +"I never did any work when I was a child. I jus went to the spring with +the young Mistress and danced for them sometimes. But they never did +give me any work to do,--like they did the others. I lived right in the +biggest house the biggest portion of my time. + +"That day and time, they made compost heaps. Mixed dirt with manure. +They hoed cotton and crops. They didn't know what school was. They +helped with washing and ironing. Did every kind of work they had +strength enough to do till they got big enough to go to the field. That +was what the children did. + +"When they were about seven years old, to the best of my recollection +they would go to the field. Seven or eight. They would pick up corn +stalks and brush. And from that on when they were about eight or nine, +they would pick cotton. + +"My mother never did have to do anything round the farm. She lived about +seventy-five miles from it, there where the master had his office. He +was a lawyer. After I was born, she didn't come out to see me but once a +year that I recollect. When she did come, she would bring me some candy +or cakes or something like that. + +"I didn't see the soldiers during the time of the war. But I saw plenty +of them afterwards--riding round and telling the niggers they were free. +They had some of the finest saddles I ever seed. You could hear them +creaking a block off. No, I didn't see them while they was fighting. We +were close enough to hear the guns crash, and we could see the light +from them, but I didn't actually see the fightin. The Yankees come +through on every plantation where they were working and entered into +every house and told us we was free. The Yankees did it. They told you +you were free as they were, that you didn't have to stay where you was, +that you didn't have no more master, that you could go and come as you +pleased. + +"I got along _hard_ after I was freed. It is a hard matter to tell +you what we could find or get. We used to dig up dirt in the smokehouse +and boil it and dry it and sift it to get the salt to season our food +with. We used to go out and get old bones that had been throwed away and +crack them open and get the marrow and use them to season the greens +with. Jus plenty of niggers then didn't have anything but that to eat. + +"Even in slavery times, there was plenty of niggers out of them three +hundred slaves who had to break up old lard gourds and use them for +meat. They had to pick up bones off the dung hill and crack them open to +cook with. And then, of course, they'd steal. Had to steal. That the bes +way to git what they wanted. + +"They had a great big kitchen for the slaves. They had what you call pot +racks they could push them big pots in and out on. They cooked hog slop +there. They had trays and bowls to eat out of that were made out of gum +wood. It was a long house used as a kitchen for the hands to go in +and eat. They et dinner there and for supper they would be there. But +breakfast, they would have to eat in the field. The young niggers would +bring it out to them. They would bring it about an hour after the sun +rose and the slave hands would eat it right out in the field; that was +the breakfast. You see the hands went to the field before sunup, and +they didn't get to eat breakfast in the kitchen and it had to be et in +the field. Little undergrowth of children--they had plenty of them on +the place--had to carry their meals to them. + +"They would usually give them collars [HW: collards] in green times, +potatoes in potato time. Bread,--they didn't know what that was. White +folks hardly knew theirselves. They didn't have butter and they didn't +have no sugar. Didn't know much about what meat was yet. They would give +the little bits of children pot liquor. That's the most I ever seed them +git. Of course I was treated differently. You couldn't judge them by +me. I was the only half-white youngun round there, and they said I was +half-brother to ol Marse's chillun. And the white chillen would git me +up to the house to dance for them and all like, and they would give me +biscuits or anything good they had. I never seed the others eatin nothin +but pot liquor. + +"Most of the slaves lived in log cabins. You know they never had but +one door. In general where they had large families, they would have two +rooms with a chimney in the middle of the house. The chimney was built +out of mud and straw. I can remember them sawin the timber. Two pulled a +big ol crosscut saw. Didn't have no saw mills then. This world has come +from a long ways. They used to didn't have no plows. It was without +form. You made it at home. + +"They had ol homemade bedsteads to sleep in. They had a little rope +that ran back and forth instead of slats. That was called a corded bed. +Cheers were all made at home and were split bottoms. + +"They didn't many of the slaves have food in their homes. But when they +did, they would jus have a little wooden box and they would put their +food in it. + +"It seems like the white people got to burying their money during the +time of the war. That never come out till after the war. Then they got +to wantin that money and started looking for it. There never was any +talk of buried treasure before the war. + +"My folks didn't give me any schoolin before the surrender. I never +got any before the surrender and a mighty little afterwards. No nigger +knowed anything. I started to farming when I was thirteen years old. I +used to be a fertilizer, and then a cotton sower. That was the biggest +I knowed about farming when I was a boy. My mother lived about fifteen +years after slavery. I reckon. + +"In the time of slavery, you couldn't marry a woman. You just took up +with her. Mother married the same man she had been going with after +freedom. She had four children after the surrender as fer as I can +tell--three girls and two boys. + +"I moved from North Carolina to Louisiana. Stayed there one year and +then moved here. Bought forty acres of land. Bought it after I'd been +here a year. It took me four years to pay for that. Then next time I +bought eighty acres and paid for them. Paid them out in two years. Then +I bought eighty acres more and paid for them in two years. Couldn't pay +for them cash at first, but could have paid for the last eighty when I +bought them if I had a wanted to. Then I bought eighty more and then I +bought eighty again and then forty and on till I had five hundred and +three acres of farm land. I got the three over when I got the sorghum +mill. + +"I left my farm and come to the city for doctor's treatment. My old +lady and I worked out five hundred and three acres of land. I got five +children living. I gave each one of them forty acres of land. Most of +the rest I sold. I got a fellow here that owes me for one of the places +now. He lives over on Third and Dennison. His name is Wright. My old +lady an me held on to that and didn't lose it even in all these hard +years. + +"My daughter kept after me to come here and she built this little house +out here where I could holler or do anything I wanted to do and not +disturb nobody. I couldn't feel at home up in a big house with other +people. Four or five months ago it would take two people to put me to +bed. I would get off from home and have to carry me back. But I +am gettin along fine now. This high blood pressure keeps me from +remembering so well. Ol lady where's my pipe? You didn't find it up to +daughter's? Ain't it in the kitchen? Can't you find it nowheres? What +_didju_ do with it? Well, you needn't look for it no longer. It's +here in my pocket. That's my high blood pressure workin. That whut it +does to you. + +"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church and have been belonging to it +altogether about sixty-three years. I used to be a Missionary. I been a +member of the church a long time. + +"I think times are jus fulfilling the Bible. The people are wiser now +than we ever known them to be and wickeder. I don't believe the times +you see now will be always. People are getting so wise and so wicked +that I think the end is near at hand. You notice the Germans now are +trying to make slaves out of the Jews. There's the Japans that is jus +slaughtering up the Chinese like they was nothin but dumb brutes. The +world is wickeder than it ever has been before. + +"The young people today! I'd hate to tell you what I do think of them. +The business is going to fall." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Casper Rumple, De Valls Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I will be, providin' the good Lord spare me, 79 years old the first day +of January. I was born in Lawrence County, South Carolina. The Big road +was the dividing line between that and Edgefield County. My mother +belonged to John Griffin. His wife named Rebecca. My father was a +Irishman. Course he was a white man--Irishman. Show I did know him. He +didn't own no slaves. I don't guess he have any land. He was a overseer +in Edgefield County. His name was Ephraim Rumple. What become of him? +He went off to fight the Yankees and took Malaria fever and died on Red +River. I could show you bout where he died. + +"My mother had a big family. I can't tell you much bout them. I was the +youngest. She cooked up at John Griffins. He was a old man and the land +was all his wife's. She was old too. She had some grown girls. He had +no children. They called him Pa and I did too. I stayed round with him +nearly all the time helping him. + +"He had a room and she had a room. I slept on a bed--little +bed--home-made bed--in the room wid him and she slept in the room with +her two girls and my mother slept in the kitchen a whole heap so she +be there to get breakfast early. They riz early every mornin'. John +Griffins wife owned four plantations more than 160 acres in each one, +but I couldn't say how much. + +"My mother was a field hand in busy times too. Miss Rebecca had all the +slaves clothes made. She seed to that. She go to the city, Augusta, and +bring back bolts cloth. One slave sewed for Miss Rebecca and her family. +She didn't do all the sewing but she sewed all the time. One woman done +all the weavin'. At night after they work in the field Miss Rebecca give +em tasks--so many bats to card or so much spinnin' to do. + +"Master John didn't want em to work at night but she made em work all +the same. They b'long to her. Another thing the women had to do was work +in the garden. It was a three acre garden. They always had plenty in +thar. Had it palinged so the young chickens couldn't squeeze through the +cracks. + +"They had plenty stock and made all the fertilizer needed in the garden +and patches. They had goober patch, popcorn patch, sorghum patches, +several of em, pea patches but they was field cabbage patch and +watermellon patch. They had chicken house, goose house, duck house and +way off a turkey pen. It had a cover on it. They had to be cleaned and +all that manure moved to the garden and patches. Old man John Griffin +was a good man. Things went on pretty quiet bout the place. They had +to do their own cooking. They got for the grown ups 3 pounds meat, 1 +pk.[TR:?] meal a week. They fed the young chaps plenty so they wouldn't +get stunted. They keep em chunky till they get old nough to grow up tall +and that make big women and big men. They stunt em then when they +start runnin' up, it cause em to be low. The owners was mighty careful +(not)[HW: ?] to feed the chaps nough to eat so they make strong hands. + +"Men come long the road peddlin' from out the cities, men come long with +droves of horses and mules. They was called horse traders. Then once in +a while they come long tradin' and selling slaves. Nother way they sell +em was at public auction. Iffen a slave steal from another master, like +go in his smoke house or crib and steal, the sheriff have to whip him. +They would have public whippin'. + +"How'd they know was freedom? How'd they not know it was freedom? +Everybody went wild. They was jes' crazy cause they was free. Way I +knowd for certain it was freedom Mr. John Griffin had all the slaves +that hadn't done went off come to the house and he told them they was +all free. Some of em just started walking the roads till they nearly +starved. The government didn't start feeding the slaves till so many +nearly starved. My mother cooked on nearly a year. Then she went to work +for Vaughn in Edgefield County. + +"They didn't give them no land. The white folks was land pore. + +"They didn't have no money. When the masters had money they give the +slaves a little spending money. Nearly all the slaves had a little money +long. They get a pass to split rails for a neighbor and make money. +That was befo freedom. After freedom nobody had money but the Yankee +soldiers. They keep it closer than the folks you been livin' with. + +"Mr. Griffin, he was called General by all the young men. He was too old +to fight so he trained soldiers. He didn't wear a uniform but they did. +They met certain days every week. They wore gray uniforms. + +"They had a battle at Lawrence. It was 17 miles. The soldiers passed +long the Big road. I didn't see the battles. I heard plenty talk about +that conflict at Lawrence though. + +"I heard the slaves was goin' to get 40 acres and a mule. I tell you +they didn't wait to see if they was going to get another meal. They went +wild, walking and hooping up and down the road. They found out when they +nearly starved they had got the bad end of the game somehow. Then to +keep em from starvin' they had certain days to go to Lawrence and get a +little rations. Not much I tell you. They started stealin' and the Ku +Klux started up bout that. + +"The President got killed (Abraham Lincoln). Then they knowed the gig +was up. They had to go to work hard as ever and mighty little to eat. +The slaves did vote. It was the color of the paper they used way they +knowed how to vote. The Republican government had full sway 12 years. +All the offices at Edgefield nearly was Negroes cept the sheriff. The +Yankees tell em what to do way they knowed how. Butler went to Congress. +He was a Negro--(???). That was what the Ku Klux was mad bout. They run +the Yankees out and took holt of the offices soon as they could. + +"Our master had no Ku Klux comin' on our place. He protected us, It +wasn't no different than slavery till I was nearly grown and a drove was +walking going west to better place. I got in with them and come on. The +Ku Klux had killed several Negroes. That scared them all up. I remember +Tuscaloosa, Alabama when we cone through there. We was walking--a line +a mile long--marching and singing. They was building back in a hurry +seemed like to me. The town had been burned up. Some dropped out to get +work along. Some fell out sick. Some so weak they died long the road. +Had to keep up. Some stopped; they never caught up no more. Mostly old +folks or half starved folks couldn't keep going. The Ku Klux whoop and +shoot you down for any little thing. They started at night, fraid of the +Yankees but they whooped and run them out and the Negroes left. The Ku +Klux got so bold they didn't dress up nor go at night neither. At first +they was careful then they got bold. The Yankee soldiers bout all they +was afraid of. The Negroes found out who some of the Ku Klux was and +told the Yankees but it didn't do much good. After bout twelve years all +the Yankees gone back home. The white folks down in Carolina thought +bout as little of them as Negroes. They wouldn't let them have no land +if they did have money to pay any price for it. They didn't want them +living amongst them. They say they rether have a Negro family. + +"The biggest Negro uprisin' I ever seed was at freedom. They riz up in a +hurry. + +"I had to stop and work all along. I got to Arkansas in 1881. I never +went no further. I been all my life farmin'. I cut and sell wood, clear +land. The best living was when I farmed and sold wood. I bought a 10 +acre farm and cleared it up graduly, then I sold it fer $180.00 cause I +got blind and couldn't see to farm it. I had a house on it. I own this +here house (a splendid home). My daughter and her husband come to take +care me. They come from Cincinatti here. She made $15.00 a week up there +three years. I get $8.00 a month now from the Social Welfare. If I could +see I could make money. + +"I never seen times like this. Sin is causin' it. Unrest and +selfishness. No neighborly spirit. I don't bother no young folks. I +don't know how they will come out. If they caint get a big price they +won't work and the white folks are doing their own work, and don't help +like they did. I could get along if I could see. I had a light stroke +keeps me from talkin' good, I hear that." + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Henry Russell, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"My father's name was Ed Russell, and he was owned by Dr. Tom Russell, +de first pioneer settler of Russellville--de' man de town got its name +from. + +"My name is Henry, and some folks call me 'Bud.' I was born at Old +Dwight de 28th of October, 1866. Yes suh, dat date is correct. + +"I was too young to remember much about happenings soon after de War, +but I kin ricollect my father belongin' to de militia for awhile during +de Reconstruction days. Both Negroes and whites were members of de +militia. + +"My folks come here from Alabama, but I don't know much about them +except dat my grandmother, Charlotte Edwards, give me an old wash pot +dat has been in de family over one hundred years. Yes suh, it's out here +in de ya'd now. Also, I owns an old ax handle dat I keep down at de +store jist for a relic of old days. It's about a hundred years old, too. + +"My wife was Sallie Johnson of Little Rock, and she was a sister of Mrs. +Charley Mays, de barber you used to know, who was here sich a long time. + +"For a long time I worked at different kinds of odd jobs, sometimes in +de coal mines and sometimes on de farms, but for several years I've run +a little store for de colored folks here in Russellville. Ain't able to +do very much now. + +"I remember very well de first train dat was ever run into Russellville. +Must have been 68 or 69 years ago. A big crowd of people was here from +all over de country. Of course dere was only a few families living in de +town, and only one or two families of colored folks. People come in from +everywhere, and it was a great sign. Little old train was no bigger dan +de Dardanelle & Russellville train. (You remember de little old train +dey used to call de 'Dinkey' don't you?) Well, it wasn't no bigger dan +de Dinkey, and it didn't run into de depot at all, stopped down where de +dump is now. Sure was a sight. Lot of de folks was afraid and wouldn't +go near it, started to run when two men got off. I saw only two man +working in front of it, but I remember it very plain. Dey was working +with wheelbarrows and shovels to clear up de track ahead. + +"Another thing I remember as a boy was de 'sassination of President +Gyarfield. I can't read or write but very little, but I remember about +dat. It was a dull, foggy mornin', and I was crossin' de bayou with Big +Bob Smith. (You remember 'Big Bob' dat used to have the merry-go-'round +and made all de county fairs.) Well, he told me all about de killing of +de President. It was about 1881 wasn't it? + +"I think times was better in de old days because people was better. Had +a heap more honor in de old days dan dey have now. Not many young folks +today have much character. + +"All right. Come back again. Whenever I kin help you out any way, I'll +be glad to." + + + +NOTE: Henry Russell is quite proud of the fact that his ancestors were +the first families of Russellville. He is a polite mulatto, uneducated, +and just enough brogue to lend the Southern flavor to his speech, but is +a fluent conversationalist. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Sallie C. Miller +Person interviewed: Katie Rye, Clarksville, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"We lived in Greenbrier, Faulkner County, Arkansas. All stayed at home +and got along very well. We had enough to eat and wear. Mistress was +awful mean to us but we stayed with them until after the war. After the +war master moved us off to another place he had and my father farmed for +his self, master and his pa and ma, and mistress' pa and ma. They awful +good to us, but mistress was so high tempered she would get mad and whip +some of the slaves but she never whipped any of us. She worried so over +the loss of her slaves after the war she went crazy. We had two white +grand pas and grand mas. We colored children called them grandpa and ma +and uncle and aunt like the white children did and we didn't know +the difference. The slaves was only allowed biscuit on Christmas and +sometimes on Sundays but we had beef and plenty of honey and everything +after we moved from the big house. Mistress used to come down to see +us an' my mother would cook dinner for her and master. He was such a +_good_ man and the best doctor in the State. He would come in and +take the babies up (mother had nine children) and get them to sleep for +my mother. His mother would come to the kitchen and ask for a good cup +of coffee and mother would make it for her. The master and his family +were Northern people and my mother was given to the mistress by her +father and mother when she married. + +"After my father bought his own farm about ten miles from the big house, +father would put us all in an ox wagon and take us back to see our white +folks. + +"The mistress claimed to be a Christian and church member but I don't +see how she could have been she was so mean. + +"I think the present day generation mighty wicked. Seems like they get +worse instead of better, even the members of the church are not as good +as they used to be. They don't raise the children like they used to. +They used to go to Sunday School and church and take the children, now +the children do as they please, roam the streets. It is sad to see how +the parents are raising the children, just feed them and let them go. +The children rule the parents now. + +"We sang the old hymns and 'Dixie', 'Carry Me Back to Old Virginia', +'When You and I Were Young, Maggie'." + + + + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Miss Hazel Horn +ADDRESS--Little Rock, Arkansas +DATE--Last of April, 1936 +SUBJECT--Ex-slave +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Uncle Bob Samuels, Washington, +Arkansas + +2. Date and time of interview--Last of April, 1936 + +3. Place of interview--Washington, Arkansas + +4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant--J.C.W. Smith. + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you--J.C.W. Smith + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc. + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--Grandmother, Spanish; Grandfather, Negro; father, Negro. + +2. Place and date of birth--Born about 1846 + +3. Family-- + +4. Places lived in, with dates-- + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates-- + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant--Tall and straight. He is blind. Clean in +appearance, dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has short, clean, +grey beard. Speaks with a clear accent. + +10. Other points gained in interview--Ancestors were in De Soto +expeditions. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"From my mother's mother I learned that on my mother's side my ancestor +came with De Soto from Spain where she was educated at Madrid. From +Spain she came to Havana, Cuba, and from there to Tampa, Florida. From +Florida she came to some point in Alabama. From this place she came to +the Mississippi river and the East Bank and crossed where it is called +Gaines Landing. After they crossed the river they went ten kilometers +from there, traveled north from there to where Arkansas County is close +to the mouth of the Arkansas River. Here they camped awhile. When they +broke camp there they traveled northeast to Boiling Springs. Making +their way from here they crossed the Ouachita River on the other side +of Arkadelphia. They traveled on, crossing Little Missouri River below +Wallaceburg. Here they found some Indian mounds. Then they traveled on a +trail from there to Washington, turned into Washington and took a trail +toward Columbus and turned off to the right (Uncle Bob not sure of the +name of this trail) and crossed what is known as Beard's Lake. They +crossed Little River at Ward's Ferry and crossed the Saline river. +Traveling northwest they reached White Oak shoals where Index is now and +crossed over into what was Mexico and traveled to a place called Kawaki +located where [TR: ?] now is. + +"After camping here for a while they came back into Arkansas to some +point near Rando, crossed Red River at Dooley's Ferry, went to Coola +Fabra(?) and back to Boiling Springs. [Here a gold mine was found and +a quarrel ensued, and in a fight De Soto was killed.] They carried +his body overland and buried him in the Mississippi River between +Grensville[HW:sp.] and Vicksburg. [TR: Moved from end of interview: De +Soto was buried at the junction of the Mississippi and [??] Rivers, +about 100 miles south of Vicksburg.] The remaining forces of the +expedition returned to Spain. + +"Sometime in 1816 my mother's mother was born. My mother's mother was +Spanish. My mother says she was well educated. Mother and her mother +have Spanish mixed with Negro blood. I had a sister named Mary and a +brother named John. + +"Armarilla, my grandmother came here from Cuba through to Gaines +Landing. Her son Edmin and her husband were with her. They crossed the +Mississippi River and she said they stopped at the old De Soto camp. A +short distance west of this place they met two men--Nick Trammel and +John Morrow who profitted (dealt) in Negro slaves. My grandfather and +mother employed these men to guide them to Coola Fabre(?) Camden?. From +Little River to Dooley's Ferry these men carried them to Waco, Texas. +They killed my grandfather and kept my grandmother forcing her to marry +either a half-breed Mexican, an Indian or a Negro. It was near Waco in +Hickman[HW:sp.] Prairie that mother was born. The boy Edmin was returned +to Dooley's Ferry and remained in the vicinity until he was about +seventeen years of age. He then lived in the vicinity of Little Rock +about six months before returning to Mexico. My grandmother said that +Mr. Trammel and Mr. Morrow probably thought he might cause trouble and +killed him as she never saw him after he returned from Little Rock. +Mother was held in Lafayette County at a point where the river crossed +and joined Bowie County (Texas) and where Louisiana bounded the south. + +"De Soto traveled by land, not by boat. He had a force of about 550 +persons. The women dressed as men. My grandmother was with her husband. + +"My mother was a slave. She was held in Bowie County, Hickens[HW:sp.] +Prairie, by Bob Trammel. They kept her locked up and I have heard mother +say that she used whale bone, card bats and a spinning wheel. Finally +they got so hot behind the Trammels in 1847-48, they pulled up stakes +and went down on the Guadalupe River and carried my mother's mother down +there. Before they left Dave Block went on Trammel's bond and got my +mother. He made my mother head housekeeper slave. She had been taught +Spanish. She was tall and fair with straight black hair. She was married +to Dick Samuels, my father. + +"After the war my father was elected [HW: Hempstead] County Clerk in +1872 on the Republican ticket. He could neither read nor write, so +was clerk in name only securing one of the white men to attend to the +office. By trade he was a blacksmith." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Uncle Bob Samuels is the son of Richard Samuels and Mary. He was a slave +of David Block. After freedom he came to Little Rock with a sister and a +brother, John. Uncle Bob said he often heard his mother speak of a gold +mine. She had a trunk of maps and charts which her mother had given to +her. In this was supposed to be the papers regarding De Soto's legendary +gold mine. The trunk had been lost as Uncle Bob has no idea where the +gold mine is. He tells the story the same way, never varying a point. He +does not claim to remember Indian trails or names. + +Uncle Bob is tall and straight. He is blind. Was clean in appearance +dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has a short, clean grey beard. He +talks with a clear accent, no Negro accent. During Reconstruction days +he served as County Clerk of Hempstead County under Carpetbaggar rule. +During those days he was a political power to be reckoned with. He was +a national as well as a state figure in the "Lily White Republican" +organization. [His wife was a Negro, good looking, but showed little +trace of much white blood.] + + + + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person Interviewed: Emma Sanderson +Home: 617 Wade Street, Hot Springs. +Aged: 75 + + +"Emma Sanderson"--"Wade Street". That was all the prospective +interviewer could learn. "Emma Sanderson--ex-slave!" "Wade Street"--"Why +it's way off that way. You go sort of thatta way, and then thatta way." + +A city map disclosed no Wade Street. Maps belonging to a local +abstractor helped not a whit. "Insurance maps are in more detail." +someone advised, "Wade Street," mused the young woman at the desk, "I've +heard of it. We have written a policy for someone there." The head of +the department was new to the city, but he was eager to help. After +about five minutes search--from wall maps to bound volumes of blocks +and back again it appeared that "Wade Street" more frequently known as +"Washington Street" meanders wanderingly from Silver Street, in the +colored section out to the "Gorge addition" inhabited by low economic +level whites. + +Down Malvern Avenue (Hot springs' Beale Street) went the interviewer. On +she went past the offices of a large Chicago packing house. For better +then a block she trudged by dilapidated shops which a few seasons back +had housed one of the key transient centers of the U.S.A. Down the +street she walked, pausing for a moment to note that coffee colored +faces decorated the placards in the beauty shop window--two well groomed +mulatto girls sitting inside, evidently operators. Her course took her +past sandwich joints and pool halls. Nails, she noted as she drifted +along, had been driven into the projection beneath the plate glass +window of the brick bank (closed during the depression--a building and +bank built, owned and operated by negro capital) to keep loungers away. +The colored theater (negroes are admitted only to the balconies of +theaters in Hot Springs--one section of the balcony at the legitimate +theater) she noticed was now serving as a religious gathering place. The +well built and excellently maintained Pythian Bath house (where the hot +waters are made available to colored folk) with the Alice Eve Hospital +(45 beds, 5 nurses, 2 resident physicians--negro doctors thruout the +town cooperating--surgical work a specialty) stood out in quiet dignity. +For the rest, buildings were an indiscriminate hodge-podge of homes, +apartment houses, shacks, and chain groceries. At the corner where "the +street turns white" the interviewer turned east. + +The Langston High School (for colored--with a reputation for turning out +good cooks, football players and academicians) stands on Silver Street. +A few paces from the building the interviewer met a couple of plump +colored women laughing and talking loudly. + +"I beg your pardon," was her greeting, "can you tell me where Wade +Street is?" They could and did. They were so frankly interested in +knowing why the white women wanted Emma Sanderson that she told them +her mission. They were not taken aback--there was no servility--no +resentment they were frankly charmed with the idea. Their directions for +finding Mrs. Sanderson became even more explicit. + +When the proper turn off was found the question of Wade versus +Washington Street was settled. A topsy-turvy sign at the intersection +announced that Wade Street was ahead. Emma Sanderson's grandson lived a +couple of blocks down the road. + +Only the fact that she could hear someone inside moving about kept the +interviewer hammering on the door. Finally she was rewarded by a voice. +"Is that somebody a' knockin'?" In a moment the door opened. The +question, "Were you a slave" no matter how delicately put is a difficult +one to ask, but Mrs. Sanderson was helpful, if doubtful that her story +would do much good. "I was just so little when it all happened." But the +interviewer was invited in and placed in a chair near the fire. + +"No ma'am. He ain't my grandson--I's the third grandmother. No son, you +ain't three--you's five. Don't you remember what I told you? Yes, he +stays with me, ma'am. I take care of him while the rest of 'em works. + +"It's hard for me to remember. I was just so little. Yes, ma'am, I was +born a slave--but I was so little. Seems to me like I remember a big, +big house. We was sort of out in the country---out from Memphis. I know +there was my father and my mother and my uncles and my aunts. I know +there was that many. How many more of us old man Doc Walker had--I just +don't know. They must have took good care of us tho. My mother was a +house nigrah. + +"When the war was ready to quit they gave us our pick. We could stay on +and work for wages or we could go. The folks decided that the'd go on in +to Memphis. My Mother and Father didn't live together none after we went +to town. First I lived with Mother and then when she died my Father took +me. My mother died when I was 9. She worked at cooking and washing. When +I was big enough I went to school. I kept on going to school after my +Father took me. He died when I was about 15. By that time I was old +enough to look out after myself. + +"What did I do? I stayed in folkses houses. I cooked and I washed. Then +when I was about 16, I married. After that I had a man to take care of +me. He was a carpenter. + +"We been here in Hot Springs a long time--you maybe heared of +Sanderson--he took up platering and he was good too. How long I been in +Hot Springs--law I don't know--'cept I was a full grown women when we +come. + +"I's had four children--all of 'em is dead. I lives with my grandson. +The little fellow, he'll be old enough to go to school in a year or two. +A dime for him ma'am--an' 2 cents besides? Now son you keep the dime and +you can spend the pennies. I always tries to teach him to save. Then +when he gets big he'll know what to do." + +Dining room and living room joined one another by means of a high and +wide arch. The stove was sensibly set up in this passage. Both rooms +were comfortably furnished with products which had in all probability +been bought new. The child stood close by thruout the entire +conversation. There was no whit of timidity about him, nor was he the +least impertinent. He was frankly interested and wanted to know what was +being said. He received the dime and the pennies with a pleasant grin +and a (grandmother prompted) "Thank you". But the gift didn't startle +him. Dimes must have been a fairly usual part of his life. But a few +minutes before the interviewer left she dropped her pencil. It was new +and long and yellow. The child's eyes clung to it as he returned it. +"Would you like to have it." the young woman asked, "would you like a +pencil of your very own, to draw with?" Would he! The child's whole face +beamed. Dimes were as nothing compared to shiney new pencils. The third +grandchild was overjoyed with his new plaything. Ella Sanderson was +delighted with her great grandchild's pleasure. The interviewer received +a warm and friendly "Good-bye". + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Mary Scott + DeValls Bluff or Biscoe +Age: + + +"I said if ever I seed you agin I'd show you dis here scar on my head. +See here [a puffed-out, black, rusty, not quite round place, where no +hair grew]. Dat dar what my young mistress put on me when I was a chile. +Dock Hardy hired me. He was rich and married a pore gal. It went to her +head. He was good to me. She was mean. She had him whoop me a time or +two for nothin'. They had two little babies, I stayed round wid. I loved +em. I churned, brought in all the wood mighty near, brought bout all the +water from the spring. Master Dock be coming horseback from Franklin, +Tennessee. I knowed bout time I take the babies to meet him. He'd wait +at a big stump we could climb on his horse, take the baby in front and +us up behind him, and put us off on the back piazza at the house. I +wrapped up the churn and quit. She ax me what I quit churnin' for. I say +the butter come. She say it ain't had time. I say it ready to take up +anyhow. She got so mad she throwed a stick of stove wood, hit me on +my head. I run out crying, the blood streamin' down. I started to the +spring, come back and got the water bucket. I got me some water and +brought back a fresh bucket full. I washed my head in cool water where +it was bleedin'. It bled all way back. She say, 'Where you been?' I say +I been to the spring, brought some cool water to the babies. I give em +some I told her. When I got water I always give them some. She took the +bucket, made me go wid her, poured the water out in the path under a +shade tree, and made me take 'nother bucketful home. I thought she was +so mean; I didn't know what she was doing that about. Got to the house +she put me on a clean chemisette. I slipped off down to the feed house, +lay down, my head on the cotton seeds, and went to sleep. + +"When Master Dock come he woke me up, wanted to know why I didn't meet +him. He seen that blood. Went on to the house. He ask her what done my +head that way. She say, 'She went to the spring, fell down, spilled the +water, and hurt it on a rock.' I told him that wasn't so--not so! I told +him all bout it. He told her she ought to be 'shamed treat good little +nigger chap mean. He was so sorry for me. She didn't care. They had been +goin' to old missis house every week. It was three weeks 'fo she would +go. I got to see my mama, 'fo she died. + +"Old Mistress Emily was a doctor woman. Dock told her, 'Mama, Scrubbs +jumps and screams bout a hour late every evening wid her head.' When it +got late it hurt and I screamed and jump up and down. Mistress Emily +come got me in her arms, put me to sleep. When I woke up Dock and Kitty +gone home with the babies. I cried bout being from the babies; I loved +em, never been away from em 'fo. She got three maggots and says, +'Scrubbs, see what I got out your little head.' Mama had died then. She +say, 'Your mama would want me to keep you here wid me.' She kept me till +it healed up. Them maggots big as a sage broom straw. We swept the floor +wid sage straw tied together then. Mistress Emily kept me a month with +her and doctored my head every day. I slept on a pallet and on a little +bed she had in the room. When I went back to Kitty's she wasn't as mean +to me as she been--but mean nough then. + +"My mama named Amy Hardy. She had five boys, three girls. She died with +a young baby. I reckon they had different papas. I was my papa's only +chile. They all said that. Bout a month after I went to Dock and +Kitty's, it was surrender. He (the little Negro girl's father) come, +stayed all night, and took me wid him to live. Dock wanted me to stay; I +love Dock and the children. Every year till a few years ago my head get +sore and run. We tried all kinds medicine on it. Don't know what cured +it. + +"The week 'fo I left there I had a task to make a cut of thread every +night, a reel. When I heard papa was coming to git me, I put cotton bats +under the reels and kivered em up. Good thing papa got me--Kitty would +killed me when she went to spin next week. She been so mean why I done +that way. + +"They never sold any of our set but some on the place was sold. The +mothers grieve and grieve over their children bein' sold. Some white +folks let their slaves have preachin', some wouldn't. We had a bush +arbor and set on big logs. Children set round on the ground. 'Fo freedom +I never went to preachin'. I kept Kitty's babies so she went. Mothers +didn't see their children much after they was sold. + +"Fo freedom they would turn a wash pot upside-down at the door and have +singin' and prayer meetin'. The pot would take up the noise. They done +that when they danced too. I don't know how they found out the iron pot +would take up the noise. They had plenty of em settin' round in them +days. Somebody found it out and passed it on." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mollie Hardy Scott, R.F.D., DeValls Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 90 + + +"I was born at Granville, Georgia in Franklin County. I don't know my +age cept I was big enough to plow when young master lef and went to war. +My mother died bout time the war started. We belonged to Miss Eliza and +Master Jim Hardy. He had two boys bout grown, Jim and John. My father +belong to the Linzys. I don't know nuthin much bout them nor him +neither. When the war was done he come and got me and we went to Barton +County, Georgia. When I lef they give me my feather bed, two good +coverlets and my clothes. White folks hated fo me to leave. We all cried +but I never seen em no more. They said he take me off and let me suffer +or die or something. I was all the child my father had but my mother had +ten children I knowed of. We all lived on the place. They lived in a +little log house and I stayed wid em some an up at white folks house +mostly. No I never seed my folks no more. We had plenty to eat. Had meat +and garden stuff. We had pot full of lye hominy. It last several days. +It was good. I seed em open up a pot full of boiled corn-on-the-cob. +Plenty milk and butter. We had wash pot full of collards or turnip +salad. Maybe a few turnips on top and a big piece of fresh meat. We +had plenty to eat and wear long as I lived wid the white folks. We had +goobers, molasses candy to pull and pop corn every now and then. They +fill all the pockets, set around the fire an eat at night. Sometimes we +bake eggs and sweet potatoes, cracklin hoe cake covered up in the ashes. +Bake apples in front of the fire on de hearth. Everybody did work an we +sho had plenty to eat an wear. + +"I had plenty when I stayed at my father's an we worked together all the +time. When he died I married. I've had a hard time not able to work. +There ain't no hard time if yous able to get bout. I pieces quilts an +sells em now. Sells em if I can. For $150 piece (has no idea of money +value). Some women promissed to come git 'em but they ain't come yet. I +wanter buy me some shoes. I could do a heap if they send fo me. I can +nurse. I kept a woman's children when she teached last year (Negro +woman's children). + +"I brought four or five when I come to Arkansas of my own. They all dead +but my one girl I lives wid. + +"Seemed lack so many colored folks coming out West to do better. We +thought we come too. We come on immigrate ticket on the train. All the +people I worked for was Captain Williams, Dr. Givens. Mr. Richardson +right where Mesa is now but they called it 88 then (88 miles from +Memphis). Mr. Gates. I farmed, washed and ironed. I nursed some since +I'm not able to get about in the field. I never owned nothing. They run +us from one year till the next and at the end of the year they say we +owe it bout all. If we did have a good crop we never could get ahead. We +couldn't get ahead nuff not to have to be furnished the next year. We +did work but we never could get ahead. If a darky sass a white land +owner he would be whooped bout his account or bout anything else. Yes +siree right here in dis here county. Darky have to take what the white +folks leave fo em and be glad he's livin. + +"I say I ain't never voted. Whut in de world I would want er vote for? +Let em vote if they think it do em good. + +"I seen a whole gang of Ku Kluxes heap of times when I was little back +in Georgia. I seed paddyrollers and then they quit and at night the Ku +Kluxes rode by. They would whoop or shoot you either if you didn't tend +to yo own business and stay at home at night. They kept black and white +doing right I tell you. I sho was afraid of them but they didn't bother +us. If you be good whose ever place you lives on would keep 'em from +harmin you. They soon got all the bad Yankies ran back North from +Georgia. They whip the black men and women too but it was mostly the men +they watched and heap of it was for stealing. Folks was hungry. Couldn't +help stealin if they seed anything. I seed heap of folks having a mighty +hard time after the war in them restruction (Reconstruction) days. I was +lucky. + +"My daughter would do mo than she do fo me but she is a large woman and +had both her legs broke. They hurt her so bad it is hard fo her to do +much. She good as she can be to everybody. The Welfare give three of us +$10.00 a month (daughter, husband, and Mollie). We mighty glad to get +that. We sho is. I am willin to work if I could get work I could do. +That's my worst trouble. Like I tell you, I can nurse and wash dishes if +I could get the jobs. + +"I don't see much of the real young folks. I don't know what they are +doing much. If a fellow is able he ought to be able to do good now if he +can get out and go hunt up work fo himself. That the way it look like. I +don't know." + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Sam Scott, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"Hello dar, Mistah L----! Don' you dare pass by widout speakin' to dis +old niggah friend of yo' chil'hood! No suh! Yuh can't git too big to +speak to me! + +"Reckon you've seen about all dar is to see in de worl' since I seen +you, ain't you? Well, mos' all de old-time niggahs and whites is both +gone now. I was born on de twentieth of July, 1879. Count up--dat makes +me 79 (born 1859), don't it? My daddy's name was Sam, same as mine, and +mammy's was Mollie. Dey was slaves on de plantation of Capt. Scott--yes +suh, Capt. John R. Homer Scott--at Dover. My name is Sam, same as my +father's, of course. Everybody in de old days knowed Sam Scott. My +father died in slavery times, but mother lived several years after. + +"No, I never did dance, but I sure could play baseball and make de home +runs! My main hobby, as you calls it, was de show business. You remember +de niggah minstrels we used to put on. I was always stage manager +and could sing baritone a little. Ed Williamson and Tom Nick was de +principal dancers, and Tom would make up all de plays. What? Stole a +unifawm coat of yours? Why, I never knowed Tom to do anything like that! +Anyway, he was a good-hearted niggah--but you dunno what he might do. +Yes, I still takes out a show occasionally to de towns around Pope +and Yell and Johnson counties, and folks treat us mighty fine. Big +crowds--played to $47.00 clear money at Clarksville. Usually take about +eight and ten in our comp'ny, boys and gals--and we give em a real hot +minstrel show. + +"De old show days? Never kin forgit em! I was stage manager of de old +opery house here, you remember, for ten years, and worked around de +old printin' office downstairs for seven years. No, I don't mean stage +manager--I mean property man--yes, had to rustle de props. And did we +have road shows dem days! Richards & Pringle's Georgia minstrels, de +Nashville students, Lyman Twins, Barlow Brothers Minstrels, and--oh, +ever so many more--yes, Daisy, de Missouri Girl, wid Fred Raymond. Never +kin forgit old black Billy Kersands, wid his mouf a mile wide! + +"De songs we used to sing in old days when I was a kid after de War +wasn't no purtier dan what we used to sing wid our own minstrel show +when we was at our best twenty-five and thirty years ago; songs like +'Jungletown,' 'Red Wing,' and 'Mammy's Li'l Alabama Coon.' Our circuit +used to be around Holla Bend, Dover, Danville, Ola, Charleston, Nigger +Ridge, out from Pottsville, and we usually starred off at the old opery +house in Russellville, of course. + +"I been married, but ain't married now. We couldn't git along somehow. +Yes suh, I been right here workin' stiddy for a long time. Been janitor +at two or three places same time; was janitor of de senior high school +here for twenty-two years, and at de Bank of Russellville twenty-nine +years. + +"Folks always been mighty nice to me--and no slave ever had a finer +master dan old Captain Scott. + +"In de old show days de manager of de opery always said. 'Let de +niggers see de show,' and sometimes de house was half full of colored +folks--white folks on one side de house and niggahs on de other--and +dere never was any disturbance of any kind. Ain't no sich good times now +as we had in de old road show days. No suh!" + + + +NOTE: Sam Scott, who has been personally known to the interviewer +for many years, is above the average of the race for integrity and +truthfulness. His statement that he was born a few years after slavery +and that his father died during slavery was not questioned the matter +being a delicate personal affair and of no special moment. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Cora Scroggins, Clarendon, Arkansas +Age: 48 or 50 + + +"My mother was born in Spring Hill, Tennessee and brought to Arkansas by +her master. Her name was Margaret. Dr. and Mrs. Porter brought my mother +to Batesville, Arkansas when she was eight years old and raised her. She +was very light. She had long straight hair but was mixed with white. She +never knew much about her parents or people. + +"Mr. William Brook (white) came to De Valls Bluff from Tennessee and +brought her sister soon after the War. She was a very black woman. + +"Dr. Porter had a family. One of their daughters was Mrs. Mattie Long, +another Mrs. Willie Bowens. There were others. They were all fine to my +mother. She married in Dr. Porter's home. Mrs. Porter had learnt her to +sew. My father was a mechanic. My mother sewed for both black and white. +She was a fine dressmaker. She had eight children and raised six of us +up grown. + +"My father was a tall rawbony brown man. His mother was an Indian squaw. +She lived to be one hundred seven years old. She lived about with her +children. The white folks all called her 'Aunt Matildy' Tucker. She was +a small woman, long hair and high cheek bones. She wore a shawl big as a +sheet purty nigh all time and smoked a pipe. I was born in Batesville. + +"My mother spoke of her one long journey on the steamboat and +stagecoach. That was when she was brought to Arkansas. It made a +memorable picture in her mind. + +"Dr. and Mrs. Porter told her she was free and she could go or stay. And +she had nowheres to go and she had always lived with them white folks. +She never did like black folks' ways and she raised us near like she was +raised as she could. + +"She used to tell us how funny they dressed and how they rode at night +all through the country. She seen them and she could name men acted as +Ku Kluxes but they never bothered her and she wasn't afraid of them. + +"I cooked all my life till I got disabled. I never had a child. I wish I +had a girl. I've been considered a fine cook all of my life." + + + + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Bernice Bowden +ADDRESS--1006 Oak Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +DATE--November 4, 1938 +SUBJECT--Ex-slaves +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Sarah Sexton, Route 4, Box 685, Pine +Bluff + +2. Date and time of interview--November 3, 1958, 10:00 a.m. + +3. Place of interview--Route 4, Box 685, Pine Bluff, Arkansas + +4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant--Georgia Caldwell, Route 6, Box 128, Pine Bluff, Arkansas. + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you--None. + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.--Frame house, front +porch with two swings. Fence around yard. Chinaberry tree and Tree of +Paradise, Coxcomb in yard. Southeast of Norton-Wheeler Stave Mill just +off Highway 65. + + +Text of Interview + +"Prewitt Tiller bought my mother and I belonged to young master. In +slavery I was a good-sized-young girl, mama said. Big enough to put the +table cloths on the best I could. After freedom I did all the cookin' +and milkin' and washin'. + +"Now listen, this young master was Prewitt's son. + +"Grandpa's name was Ned Peeples and grandma was Sally Peeples. My mother +was Dorcas. Well, my papa, I ain't never seed him but his name was Josh +Allen. You see, they just sold 'em around. That's what I'm talkin' +about--they went by the name of their owners. + +"I'm seventy-eight or seventy-nine or eighty. That's what the insurance +man got me up. + +"I been in a car wreck and I had high blood pressure and a stroke all at +once. And that wreck, the doctor said it cracked my skull. Till now, I +ain't got no remembrance. + +"You know how long I went to school? Three days. No ma'm I had to work, +darlin'. + +"I was born down here on Saline River at Selma. I done forgot what +month." + +"What kinda work have I done? Oh, honey, I done farmed myself to death, +darlin'. You know Buck Couch down here at Noble Lake? Well, I hoped pick +out eight bales of cotton for him. + +"I wish I had the dollars I had workin' for R.A. Pickens down here at +Walnut Lake. Yes, honey, I farmed for him bout fifteen or twenty years +steady. + +"And he sure was nice and he was mischievous. He called all of us his +chillun. He use to say, 'Now you must mind your papa!' And we'd say 'Now +Mr. Pickens, you know you ain't got no nigger chillun'. He use to say to +me 'Sallie, you is a good woman but you ain't got no sense'. Them was +fine white folks. + +"Honey, these white folks round here what knows me, knows they ain't a +lazy bone in my body. + +"I'se cooked and washed and ironed and I'se housecleaned. Yes'm, I +certainly was a good cook. + +"I belongs to the Palestine Baptist Church. Yes ma'm. I don't know what +I'd do if twasn't for the good Master. I talks to Him all the time. + +"I goes to this here government school. A man teaches it. I don't know +what his name is, we just calls him Professor. + +"Well, chile, I'll tell you the truf. These young folks is done gone. +And some o' these white headed women goes up here truckin'. It's a sin +and a shame. I don't know what's gwine come of 'em." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This woman lives with her daughter Angelina Moore who owns her home. + +Mother and daughter both attend government school. Both were neatly +dressed. The day was warm so we sat on the front porch during the +interview. + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--Grandfather, Ned Peeples; grandmother, Sally Peeples; +Mother, Dorcas Peeples; Father, Josh Allen. + +2. Place and date of birth--On Saline River, Selma, Arkansas. No date. + +3. Family--Two daughters and granddaughter. + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Desha County, Walnut Lake, Noble Lake, +(Arkansas) Poplar Bluff, Missouri. No dates. + +5. Education, with dates--Three days, "after freedom". Attends +government school now. + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates--Farmwork, cooking, +laundry work until 1936. + +7. Special skills and interests--Cooking. + +8. Community and religious activities--Member of Palestine Baptist +Church. + +9. Description of informant--Medium height, plump, light complexion and +gray hair. + +10. Other points gained in interview--Injured in auto wreck seven years +ago. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Roberta Shaver, West Memphis, Arkansas +Age: 50 + + +"I was born close to Natchez, Mississippi. Grandma was sold at Wickerson +County, Mississippi. They took her in a wagon to Jackson, Tennessee. She +was mother of two children. They took them. She was part Indian. She was +a farm woman. Her name was Dicy Jackson. They sold her away from the +Jacksons to Dobbins. She was a house woman in Jackson, Tennessee. She +said they was good to her in Tennessee. Grandma never was hit a lick in +slavery. Grandpa was whooped a time or two. He run off to the woods for +weeks and come back starved. He tended to the stock and drove Master +Clayton around. He was carriage driver when they wanted to go places. + +"After freedom grandma set out to get back to grandpa. Walked and rode +too I reckon. She brought her children back. After a absence of +five years she and grandpa went back together. They met at Natchez, +Mississippi. Mama was born after freedom. + +"The way grandma said she was sold was, a strange man come there one day +and the master had certain ones he would sell stand in a line and +this strange man picked out the ones he wanted and had them get their +belongings and put them in the wagon and took them on off. She never +seen grandpa for five years." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mary Shaw + 1118 Palm Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 77 +Occupation: Laundry work + + +"I was born in Bolivar County, Mississippi. My mother didn't know how +old I was but after freedom I went by Miss Ann Blanchet's--that was my +mother's old missis--and she said I was born in 1861. + +"But I don't know nothin' 'bout slavery or the War. I was born and bred +in the desert and my mother said it was a long time after freedom 'fore +she knowed anything about it. She said there was just lots of the folks +said, to their knowin', they had been free three years 'fore they knowed +anything about it. + +"My husband brought me to Arkansas when I was 35 and I been workin' in +the same family, Captain Jeter's family, ever since-forty odd years. + +"I always have worked hard. I've had the flu only reason I'm sittin' +here now. If I had to sit and hold my hands very long, they'd have to +take me to Little Rock. + +"I been married twice. My last husband was Sam Shaw. He was a great +whiskey man and when whiskey went out, he went to bootleggin' and they +got behind him and he left. + +"He wrote me once and said if I'd borrow some money on my home and send +it to him, he'd come back. I wrote and told him just like I'm tellin' +you that after I had worked night and day to pay for this house while +he was off tellin' some other woman lies just like he told me, I wasn't +goin' to send him money. So I ain't seen him since. + +"I ain't never been to school much. When schools got numerous in +Mississippi they had me behind a plow handle. + +"Mrs. Jeter made me mad once and I quit. My first husband was a porter +on the railroad and I got on the train and went to Memphis with him. + +"One time he come back from a trip to Pine Bluff and handed me a little +package. I opened it and it was a note from Mrs. Jeter and a piece of +corn bread. She said, 'Now, Mary, you see what I've had to eat. I want +you to come back.' So I went back and stayed 'til she died. And now I'm +workin' for her daughter, Mrs. McEwen. Mrs. Jeter used to say, 'Mary, +I know you're not a Arkansas woman 'cause you ain't got a lazy bone in +your body.'" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Violet Shaw, West Memphis, Arkansas +Age: 50 + + +"I heard Grandma Katie Williams say she was put up on a high stump and +auctioned off. She told how great-grandma cried and cried and never +seen her no more. Grandma come from Oakland, Tennessee to Mississippi. +Grandma took the two young children and left the other two with +great-grandma. They took her from her husband. She never seen none of +them again. + +"After freedom she didn't know how to find them. She never could get +trace of them. She tried. She never married no more. I was born at +Clarksdale, Mississippi. I have seen Tom Pernell (white), the young +master, come and spend the night with Henry Pernell. Henry had once been +Tom's father's slave and carriage driver. I was too small to know the +cause but I remember that several times mighty well. They fixed him up a +clean bed by hisself. Henry lived in town. But he might have been drunk. +I never seen no misbehavior out of him. It was strange to me to see +that. + +"Freedom--Aunt Mariah Jackson was freed at Dublin, Mississippi. She said +she was out in the field working. A great big white man come, jumped +up on a log and shouted, 'Freedom! Freedom!' They let the log they was +toting down; six, three on a side, had holt of a hand stick toting a +long heavy log. They was clearing up new ground. He told them they was +free. They went to the house. They cooked and et and thanked God. Some +got down and prayed, some sung. They had a time that day. They got the +banjo and fiddle and set out playing. Some got in the big road just +walking. She said they had a time that day." + + + + +Texarkana District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland +Subject: Ex-Slave + +This information given by: Frederick Shelton +Place of Residence: Dump Section, Texarkana, Arkansas +Occupation: None +Age: 81 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +In an humble cabin on the outskirts of the city lives a venerable old +negro ex-slave. Although bent with rheumatism and age, he still retains +his mental faculties to a remarkable degree. + +An inquiry as to his health elicited the following reply: "I'se a +willful mind but a weak body. Just like an old tree--de limbs are +withered and almost dead. I'se been here a long tins, ovah 81 years, and +am ready to go any time de good Lawd says de word. Dat's de trouble wid +de people nowadays--dey ain't prepared. Back when I wuz a young man, +dey wuzn 't so much meaness, and such goings on as dey are nowadays. De +young-peple know as much as de old folks. Yas, suh, de worl' am goin' to +de dogs." + +Asked about life in pioneer days, the old negro replied; "We had lots +ob good times in dem days. Log rollings wuz lots ob fun to me as I wuz +strong den, an' I could "show off" befo' de odder niggers. Dey wuzn't +much rollin' to it, mostly carrying. I mind de time when I lifted de end +ob a log, an' four men tried at different times to lift de odder, but +dey couldn't do it. Three of dese men went to an early grave from trying +to lift dis log--all tore up inside. Maybe dat's whut ails me. + +"You had to be careful den, when traveling through de woods, or de +varmints would git you, especially at night. I mind de time when a negro +wuz comin' through de woods one nite, when he seed a panther about to +spring on him. + +"Dis nigger dropped in his tracks lack he wuz dead. De panther came up to +him and smelled ob him, but de nigger held his breath, and de panther +thought he wuz dead. De panther covered him wid leaves an' went about +one hundred yards into de woods to call his friends to de feast. No +sooner had he left when de nigger jumped up and climbed a tree, first +rutting an old chunk of wood in de place where he wuz buried. De nigger +could hear de panther out in de woods as he called for his friends, and +pretty soon, here dey come, about five of 'em. Slowly circling aroun' de +place where de nigger had been, all of a sudden dey all jumped. Findin' +nothin' but de old chunk of wood, dem panthers got real mad. Wid angry +growls, dey jumped on de one whut had called dem, and ate him up." + +This old negro reserves all of the heroic roles for others. Asked if he +had had any experience with the "varmints", as he termed them he said: +"Yas, suh. De worst scared I ever got wuz frum a wolf. Walkin' down a +trail one day, I spied a wolf not more than ten feet away. Man, I wuz so +scared dat I seemed to freeze in my tracks, and couldn't move. I tried +to holler but all I could do wuz croak. Den I tried to whistle but de +only sound I could make wuz a hiss. After standing for whut seemed +hours, wid his ears sticking straight up, de wolf finally turned around +and trotted away." + +The conversation drifted to other topics, and finally to ghosts and +spirits. The old negro said he had never seen a ghost, and didn't +believe in those things. No sooner had he said this when his wife, who +had been listening in on the conversation from the inside of the door +exclaimed: "I does! Seein' is believin' aint it? Well suh, about two +years ago de negro dat lived next door died. A few weeks after he died I +wuz settin' out on de porch when I see dis negro come out of de house, +and walk slowly to de corner of mah yard where he vanished into de air. +A few nights later de same thing happened again. No suh, dat nigger +didn't go to Heaven and he didn't go to Hell. He's still around heah. He +wuz a wicked negro and wuz scared to go." + + + + +Circumstances of interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Samuel S. Taylor +ADDRESS--Little Rock, Arkansas +DATE--December, 1938 +SUBJECT--Ex-slave +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Laura Shelton, 1518 Pulaski Street, +Little Rock, Arkansas. + +2. Date and time of interview interview-- + +3. Place of interview--1518 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas. + +4. Name and address of person, if any who put you in touch with +informant-- + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you-- + +Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.-- + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--mother, Susan Barnett; father, Ben Bearden; grandfather, +Harvey Barnett. + +2. Place and date of birth--Arkansas, 1878 + +3. Family--Three children. + +4. Education, with dates-- + +5. Places lived in with dates--Jerome, Arkansas and Little Rock. No +dates. + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates--Farmed, wash and iron. + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities--Belongs to Baptist Church. + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview-- + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"My mother used to sit down and talk to us and tell us about slavery. +If she had died when I was young I wouldn't have known much. But by her +living till I was old, I learned a lot. + +"My mother's old master was Tom Barnett, so she said. No, not 'so she +said' because I have seed him. He give her her age and all at that +time. I have it in my Bible. He said that she was twelve years old the +Christmas before the surrender. The surrender was in May, wasn't it? + +"My mother's name was Susan Bearden. She married Ben Bearden. She worked +in Tom Barnett's house. She milked and churned and 'tended to the +children and all such as that. He never allowed her to go to the field. +Neither her mother, my grandmother. She was the cook. My mother's name +before she married was Susan Barnett. + +"An old colored lady that they had there seed after the colored +children. She looked after my mother too. She was so old she couldn't do +nothin' so they had her to look after the children. My grandmother was +kept busy because she had the white folks to cook for and she had all +the colored folks to cook for too. + +"There is an old lady down on Spring Street that can give you a lot of +information about slavery times. + +"A boy was telling her that somebody was going 'round asking questions +about slavery and she said she wished he would come and see her. + +"My mother never had any chance to go to school before freedom and she +never had any chance to go afterwards because she didn't have any money. +When they turned them loose the white folks didn't give 'em anything, so +they had to work. They didn't allow them to pick up a piece of paper in +slave time for fear they would learn. + +"My mother remembered the pateroles. She said they used to catch and +whip the colored men and women when they would get out. + +"My mother's old master was the one that told mama she was free. He told +her she was free as he was. After they learned that they were free, they +stayed on till Christmas. + +"After Christmas, they went to another plantation. My gran'pa, he come +and got them all to come. My gran'pa's name was Harvey Barnett. His old +master's son had married and he had been staying with him. That made +him be on another place. There was a good many of the children in my +grandmother's family. Mama had a sister named Lucy, one named Lethe, +one named Caroline, one named Annie, and one named Jane. She had two +boys--one named Jack, and one named Barnett. She had another sister +named--I don't remember her name. + +"After freedom, we sharecropped for a number of years up until my father +died. He died about twenty-four years ago. + +"After that mama washed and ironed for about ten or twelve years. Then +she got too old to work and we took care of her. My mother died last +March on the ninth day. She always had good health for an old lady. +Never got so she couldn't get up and do her light work such as dress +herself, cooking, sweeping, and so on. She would even do her own washing +and ironing if we would let her. She would hide from us and pick cotton +till we stopped her. + +"She was sick only one week and the doctor said she died of old age. He +said it was just her time. She didn't have nothin' the matter with her +but jus' old age he said so far as he could find. Dr. Fletcher was +our doctor. She died in Jerome, Arkansas about sixteen miles from the +Louisiana line. Leastwise, they tell me it's about sixteen miles from +the line. She always told us that she had her business fixed with the +Lord and that when she taken sick, It wouldn't be long. And sure 'nough, +it wasn't. + +"I farmed until my mother and brother died. Then I came up here with my +sister as I had no children living. I jus' wash and iron now whenever I +can get somethin' to do. + +"I have been married once. I had three children. All of them are dead. +My children are dead and my husband is dead. + +"I belong to the Baptist church down on Spring Street. I always unite +with the church whenever I go to a place. I don't care whether I stay +there or not. + +"My mama's master was good as far as white folks generally be in slavery +times. He never whipped my grandmother nor my mother. He was good to the +field hands too. He never whipped them. He would feed them too. He had +right smart of field hands but I don't know just how many. I don't think +he ever sold any of his slaves. I think he come by them from his father +because I have heard them say that his father told him before he died +never to 'part with Black Mammy. That was what he called her. And he +kept them altogether jus' like his father told him to. His father said, +'I you to keep all my Negroes together and Black Mammy I don't want you +let her be whipped because she nursed all of you.' She said she never +was whipped 'cept once when she got a cockle berry up her nose and he +got it out and gave her a little brushing--not as much as grandma would +have given her. + +"He kept them all in good shoes and warm clothes and give them plenty to +eat. So many of the slaves on other plantations didn't have half enough +to eat and were half naked and barefooted all the time." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mahalia Shores, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 77 + + +"I was born in Greene County, Georgia. My owner was Jim Jackson. He +bought my mother's father. She was raised on Jim Jackson's place. I +rec'collect a right smart about slavery times. He made us dress up and +let the nigger traders see what little niggers I got. We thought it +was nice. What fine limbs we had. Aunt Judy--some called her 'big +mamma'--lived down under the hill. She was old and seen after the +children. The biggest children took care and nursed the little ones. +On Wednesday and Saturday the cook made ginger cakes for the little +children. The house girl called us. She was Aunt Teena's girl. Aunt +Teena was a housemaid. See little niggers coming from every direction to +get our cakes. + +"Jim Jackson's wife was named Mariah. They lived in a big fine white +house. When it was freedom a soldier come, brought a paper and Massa Jim +was settin' on the porch. Tom Chapman was his overseer. They rung the +big farm bell and had the oldest niggers stand in a line and us little +ones in front so we could all see. Tom Chapman read the paper and stood +by the soldier. He had two big plantations. Massa Jim got sick that day +and vomited and vomited. He lived a week or two weeks. They sent for Dr. +Ducham but he couldn't do him no good. He died. Massa Jim told them they +could take the teams and go to town, all he ax of 'em was to feed and +take care of 'em. Every one of the grown folks went and left us at home. +Aunt Judy seen 'bout us like she been doing all the time. They went over +to Greensboro to celebrate. They all come back. They was all ready fer +their breakfastes. It was twelve miles from Greensboro. Then the next +day Massa Jim or Tom Chapman, one called the grown folks to the house +and told them, 'You can stay and I will pay you or you can go. I pay +no more doctor bills. I don't feed you no more nor give you no +more clothes.' Some moved and some hired to him. Some went to his +father-in-law's place and some to his brothers' place and around. +His wife was rich. She was Dave Butler's gal. No, I mean Massa Jim's +wife--Miss Mariah. That big place was what her pa give her. Massa Jim +had five hundred little niggers on that place and lots more on the big +plantation. He had about two thousand little niggers. We went in droves +is right. + +"I never went to a table in slavery time. We had our plates and cup and +took it to the pot and they put some victuals in 'em, then we went and +et where we pleased. We had all the meat we could eat and all the milk +we could drink all the time. Aunt Teena sewed and grandma would weave +cloth. They made white aprons. My hair was nice and old mistress would +tell Aunt Judy to curl my hair. They rolled it up on cloth and on little +light cobs. If they wet it, it would stay curled. + +"Massa Jim sold his niggers when he wanted to. He sold my grandpa and +Uncle Steve. Grandma wanted him to sell her and he wouldn't do it. I +don't know what become of grandpa. After freedom Uncle Steve come back +to us all. Grandpa was crying. He come to our house and said he had to +go. We never seen him no more. + +"Some of the slaves wouldn't be whooped by Tom Chapman. I heard them say +since I got grown he 'tacked 'em. It caused trouble. He couldn't whoop +'em then. Old master whooped some of 'em. Some would say, 'I take ten +licks offen you and that is all.' Then he would sell them the first +chance. They would go to the woods if he beat them too much. He didn't +abuse his niggers. He said his niggers was his property. Aunt Sarah +tended to the cows and Aunt Clarisa raised geese, turkeys, chickens, +ducks, and churned. + +"The Ku Klux come to our house, called Uncle Billy--that was my papa. +They got him up out of bed. One man said, 'I ain't had no water since +the battle of Shiloah.' He had pa draw water till daybreaking. He had +a horn he poured the water in. We was all scared half to death. Next +morning there was a branch from the well done run off. Something took +place about a well. Uncle Neel Anderson and Uncle Cush dug wells for +their living. They come after them. Aunt Mandy had a baby. They pitied +her and Uncle Neel got so scared he run upstairs in his shirt tail and +stuck his head in the cotton. They found him that way. Uncle Cush said, +'Come on, Neel, and go with me.' They whooped Uncle Cush in his shirt +tail. If you didn't open the door they would break it in. + +"I worked in the field in Georgia and Arkansas both. I cooked since I +was twelve years old. I married when I was twenty years old. I cooked +here in Marianna eighteen years and I have cooked three Sunday dinners +on Saturday and Sunday together. I would make three dollars when I done +that. I had five children and I raised one boy. I washed and ironed. I +get some help from the Welfare but I saved and my good old man saved so +we would have plenty when we got old. Folks burnt up two of my houses. I +got three more not fitten to live in till they are covered. I got good +property in Stuttgart but couldn't pay the tax on it and 'bout to loose +it. I tried to get a loan and never could. We niggers have a hard time." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Rosa Simmons + 823 West 13th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85? + + +"Yes mam, I was here during that Civil War. I was fifteen years old +then. I was born In Tennessee. + +"My boss man carried all the best hands to Texas and carried the scrub +hands across Cypress Creek here in Arkansas, and that's where I come. I +was fifteen when the Yankees come in on my boss man's place, so you know +now I ain't no baby. I thank God that He left me here to get old. + +"Before the war. I nussed two babies--my mistress' baby and her sister's +baby. Yes'm we had a good master and mistress. We didn't suffer for +nothin' and we didn't have no overseer over us. Colonel Maples was my +master. No'm he wasn't no soldier--that was the name his mother give +him. + +"When my folks first come to Arkansas we lived in a cabin that just had +a balin' sack hangin' in the door and one night a bear come in and my +brother and I broke a board off the side and fell right out in the cane. +We all hollered so some folks come down and shot the bear. I ain't never +seed a bear before and I didn't know what it was. + +"I 'member when the Yankees come to my boss man's place. They wanted to +shake hands but he was scared to death and wouldn't do it. Another time +the Yankees captured him and kept him three months. They took his horse +and he finally come home on a mule that didn't have but three legs. I +guess the Yankees give him the mule. He turned the old mule loose and +said he never wanted to see another Yankee. If he saw any kind of a +white man comin' down the road he run in the house and hid between the +feather bed and the mattress. + +"One time the Yankees come and drunk the sweet milk and took all the +butter, turkeys and hogs and then broke the powder horn against the +maple tree. + +"The cook say 'I'm gwine tell Marse Joe you drink all this milk.' The +Yankees say, 'Let the damn fool alone--here we are tryin' to free her +and she ain't got no sense.' They said there wouldn't be any more hard +times after the war. + +"But I sure have seen some hard times. I have washed and cooked and done +'bout everything. + +"When I get up in the morning I got the limburger (lumbago) in my back +so I ain't able to do much. Sometimes I have something to eat and +sometimes I don't." + + + + +Mrs. Carol Graham +Mrs. Mildred Thompson +El Dorado District + +Fannie Sims. +Customs. + + +"How ole is ah? Ise about 78. Yes'm ah wuz live durin de wah. Mah ole +moster wuz Mistuh Jake Dumas we lived near de Ouachita rivuh bout five +miles fum El Dorado landin. Ah membush dat we washed at de spring way, +way fum de house. What dat yo say? Does ah know Ca'line. Ca'line, lawsy, +me yes. Ca'line Washington we use tuh call huh, she wuz one uv Mr. Dumas +niggers. We washed fuh de soldiers. Had tuh carry day clo'es tuh dem +aftuh dark. Me an Ca'line had tuh carry dem. We had tuh hide de horse +tuh keep de soldiers fum gittin him. When we would take de horse tuh de +plum orchard we would stay dah all day to dark wid "Blackie". Dat wuz +de horse's name. Mah job mostly wuz tuh watch de chillun an feed mah +mistress chickens. + +"Ah kin recollect when dey took us an started tuh Texas an got as fur +as El Dorado and found out dat us niggers wuz free. We went back +an grandma's mistress's son took us home wid him fuh stretches and +stretches. We lived on de ole Camden road. + +"In mah days ah've done plenty uv work but ah don' do nothing now but +piece quilts. Dat's whut ah've been doing fuh mah white fokes since ah +been heah. Ah jes finished piecing and quiltin two uv em. De Glove[TR:?] +and de Begger. Mah husban' been dead 31 years dis pas' August. No, ah +counts is by dose twins ah raised. One uv em lives in dis heah place +right heah. Ah aint much count now. Sometime mah laig gets so big ah jes +had tuh sloop mah foot erlong." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Jerry Sims (Indian and Negro) + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: Born 1859 + + +"I was born in 1859 close to Natchez, Mississippi. Chief Sims was my +grandpa. He was Indian, full blood. His wife was a Choctaw Indian. +Grandpa was a small red Indian. They kept my pa hid out with stock +nearly all time of the Civil War. Both my mas' parents was nearly all +Indian too but they was mixed. I'm more Indian than anything else. I +heard pa talk about staying in the cane brakes. Mighty few cane brakes +to be found now. I come with my grandpa and grandma to Arkansas when I +was five years old. + +"My ma belong to Quill and Sely Whitaker. I et and slept with Hattie and +Bud and Rob Whitaker. Quill Whitaker was a Union surgeon in the Civil +War. + +"I don't think any of my folks was ever sold. They was of a porer class +and had to have a living and sorter become slaves for a living. I never +heard ma say how she got in bondage. Pa stayed with John Rob bout like a +slave. + +"I am a farmer. I am not on the PWA. Times for me is hard. You see some +has so much and others hardly can live atall. + +"It is not for me to say about the young generation. I have mighty +little to do with any of them. + +"I have voted but not lately. I never did understand voting." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Victoria Sims, Helena, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"I was born in Limestone County, Alabama. It was on a river. Where I was +born they called it Elks Mouth. Our owners was Frank Martin and Liza +Martin. They raised papa. Their daughter aired (heired) him. Her name +was Miss (Mrs.) Betty Hansey. Papa's name was Ed Martin. I stood on a +stool and churned for papa's young mistress. The churn was tall as I +was. I loved milk so good and they had plenty of it--all kinds. Soon as +ever I get through, they take up the butter. I'd set 'round till they +got it worked up so I could get a piece of bread and fresh butter and a +big cup of that fresh milk. They always fixed it for me. + +"Mama was Minthy Martin. She cooked on another place. She was a nurse. +Her papa belong to one person and her mother to somebody else. Mama was +Minthy Bridgeforth but I don't have her owner's name. I guess she was +sold. I heard her say the Bridgeforth's was good to her. Some white man +whooped on her once. I never heard her say much about it. Papa's owners +was good to him. They was crazy about him. I knowed papa's owners the +best and I lived there heap the most. I was born a slave but I don't +know who I belong to. I've studied that over myself. I used to go back +to see papa's owners. They owned lots of slaves and lots of land. Papa +done a lot of different things. He fed and farmed and cleaned off the +yards and slopped the pigs. He done what they said do, well as I can +recollect. I wasn't with mama till after freedom. Mama said her white +folks was treated mighty mean during the War. Once the soldiers come and +mama was so scared she took the baby and run got in the cellar. They +throwed out everything they had to eat. They took off barrels of things +to eat and left them on starvation. One soldier come one time and wanted +mama to go to the camps. She was scared not to go, scared he'd shoot her +down. She told him she'd go the next day soon as she could get up her +things and tell her folks she had gone. He agreed to that. Soon as he +left she and some other young women on the place put out to the cane +brakes and caves. She said they nearly starved. The white folks sent +them baskets of victuals several times. Mama said she had some pretty +beads she wore. Somebody had made her a present of them. She loved 'em. +I think she said they was red. Mama's mistress told her to hide her +beads, the soldiers would take them. She hid them up in the loft of +their house on a nail. One day a gang come scouting and they rummaged +the whole house and place. When the soldiers left she thought about her +beads and went to see and they was gone. She cried and cried about them. +That was before she went to the canebrakes. + +"When freedom come on, the owners told them they was free. They didn't +leave and then they made a way for them to stay on. They stayed on. + +"I was grown when we come to this state but we lived in Tennessee a few +years. Mama had had nine children by that time. All was dead, but us two +girls and my brother. We come to Arkansas with our parents. We heard the +land was new and rich. I wasn't married then. + +"I've worked hard in the field all my life till last year or so. I still +do work. + +"Times is tough here I tell you. I get a little help, six dollars. + +"Some of the young folks won't work, some not able to work. If anybody +saving a thing I don't hear about it." + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Virginia Sims + 1121 N. Magnolia + Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 93 +Occupation: Retired Midwife + + +"I was born in 1844. I was twenty when peace was declared. I was born +in Virginia. Yes ma'am, but I was sold, put up on a stump just like you +sell hogs to the highest speculator. I was sold with my mother from +a man named Joe Poindexter and bought by Tom Murphy and brought to +Arkansas. My God, every Murphy round here knows me. Yes'm, my mother and +me was sold. Papa wasn't sold, but he come here the second year after +surrender. + +"I was old enough to spin twelve cuts a day--had it to do. And I could +weave cloth just like they do now. + +"Had seven brothers and I'm the onliest girl. + +"I can recollect when Miss Mary Poindexter died. They said I was two. + +"My mistis in Arkansas was Mrs. Susan Murphy. That was out on the +plantation, we didn't live in no city--my God, no! + +"The way my people acts now, they looks foolish. I never heard a person +curse till I come up here. I was a grown young lady nineteen years old +when our master lowed us to get out and cote. You better not. The first +husband I married I was nineteen goin' on twenty. My husband fought on +the Southern side. His master sent him as a substitute. + +"My master put good clothes on me, I'd say. 'Master. I wants a dress +like so and so, and I wants a pair of shoes.' Yes ma'am, and he got em +for me. I was forty-three and married to a nigger fore I knowed what +twas to cry for underwear. + +"I member they was a white man called Dunk Hill and he said, 'Virginia, +who freed the niggers?' I said, 'God freed the niggers.' He said, 'Now, +Virginia, you goin' be just as free as I am some day!' + +"General Shelby's troops was comin' on this side the ribber. That's +one time I was scared. Never seed so many men in my life. They wanted +something to eat. Mama cooked all night. They was nine hundred and +somethin'. I toted canteens all night long. + +"I member when they had that Marks Mill battle. My husband was there and +he sent word for me to come cause he had the measles and they had went +in on him. I had to put on boots and wade mud. Young folks now ain't got +no sense. I see so many folks now with such dull understanding. Marks +Mill was the onliest part of the war I was in. + +"General Shelby and Captain Blank, they whetted their swords together +when peace was declared. Captain said, 'General, I'm not crazy and +neither am I a coward. I looked up and seem like a man was comin' out +the clouds, and so I'm goin' to surrender.' + +"Them cavalry men--they'd say, 'Ride!' and how they'd go. + +"I seen em when they was enlistin'. Said they was goin' to whip the +Yankees and be back for breakfast in the morning. + +"Marse Ben was goin' and Miss Susan say, 'Virginia, if you think he +ain't goin' come back you ought to kiss him goodbye.' I said, 'I ain't +goin' to kiss no white man.' + +"Miss Fanny went up the ladder and sot rite on the roof and watched the +soldiers goin' by. Yes'm. Old master whipped me with a little peach +stick cause I let Frankie--we called her Frankie--go up the ladder. I +said I couldn't stop her cause she said if I told her papa, she and +Becky goin' to whip me. He whipped Miss Fanny. Old miss come in and say, +'Ain't you goin' whip this nigger?' She was mean as the devil. Oh, God, +yes. She so mean she didn't know what to do. But old master kep her +down. You know some of these redheaded women, they just as devilish as +they can be. We had some neighbors, Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Daniels and old +miss would be out there on the lawn quarrelin' till it was just like a +fog. Us niggers would be out there listenin'. + +"But I was always treated good. You know if I had been beat over the +head I couldn't recollect things now. My head ain't been cracked up. +Nother thing. I always been easy controlled. + +"I never went to school a day. After we was freed we stayed right on +the Murphy place. They paid us and we worked on the shares. That's the +reason I say I done better when I was a slave." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Senya Singfield + 1613 W. Second Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +"I was born in Washington, Virginia right at the foot of the Blue Ridge +Mountains. My mother was sold when I was a babe in her arms. She was +sold three times. I know one time when she had four children she was +sold and one of my brothers was sold away unbeknownst to her. Her old +master sold her away from her mistress. She was a cook and never was +mistreated. + +"I ain't never been to school. When I got big enough, my mother was a +widow and I had to start out and make a living. I've always been a cook. +Used to keep a boarding house, up until late years. I've washed and +ironed, sewed a right smart and quilted quilts. I've done anything I +could to turn an honest living. Oh I've been through it but I'm still +here. I've been a widow over forty years. + +"I think the folks nowdays are about run out. They are goin' too fast. +When I was comin' up, I had to have some manners. My mother didn't low +me to 'spute nobody." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Peggy Sloan + 2450 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 80, or more +Occupation: Farming + + +"I was born in Arkansas in Tulip, in Dallas County I think it is, isn't +it? + +"Charlotte Evans was mother's name and my father's name was Lige Evans. +Gran'daddy David was my mother's father, and Cheyney was my mother's +mother. + +"Mr. Johnnie Sumner was the name of my young master, and the old man was +Mr. Judge Sumner. The old people are all dead now. Mr. Judge Sumner +was Johnnie Sumner's father. Me and Mr. Johnnie suckled together. Mr. +Johnnie came to Fordyce they say looking for the old slaves. I didn't +know about it then. I never would know him now. That is been so long +ago. I sure would like to see 'im. + +"My mother ain't told me much about herself in slave times. She was a +nurse. She lived in a log cabin. You know they had cabins for all of +them. The colored lived in log houses. The white people had good houses. +Them houses was warmer than these what they got now. + +"My grandma could cut a man's frock-tail coat. These young people don't +know nothin' 'bout that. Grandma was a milliner. She could make anything +you used a needle to make. + +"Lige Evans was the name my father took after the surrender. He wasn't +named that before the surrender--in the olden times. My mother had +fifteen children. She was the largest woman you ever seen. She weighed +four hundred pound. She was young Master Johnnie's nurse. Mr. Johnnie +said he wanted to come and see me. I heard he lives way on the other +side of Argenta somewheres. + +"I was my mama's seventh girl, and I got a seventh girl living. I +had fifteen children. My mother's children were all born before the +surrender. + +"Mr. Judge Sumner and his son were both good men. They never whipped +their slaves. + +"They didn't feed like they do now. I et corn bread then, and I eat +it now. Some people say they don't. They would give them biscuits on +Sundays. They had a cook to cook for the hands. She got all their meals +for them. + +"They had a woman to look after the little colored children, and they +had one to look after the white children. My mother was a nurse for the +white children. My mother didn't have nothing to do with the colored +children. + +"I didn't never have no trouble with the pateroles. Sometimes they would +come down the lane running the horses. When I would hear them, I would +run and git under the bed. I was the scaredest soul you ever seen. I +think that's about all I can remember. + +"I was the mother of fifteen children. I had one set of twins, a boy and +a girl. The doctor told me you never raise a boy and a girl twin. My boy +is dead. All of my children are dead but two. + +"I was raised on the farm. I want a few acres of ground now so bad. + +"I never was married but once. My husband's name was David Sloan. I +don't know exactly how long he and me were married. It was way over +twenty years. My license got burnt up. + +"You know I couldn't be nothin' but a Christian." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Peggy Sloan's memory is going. She is not certain of the number of +children her mother had although she knows there were more than seven +because she was the seventh. + +She remembers nothing about her age, but she knows definitely that all +of her mother's children were born before the War--that is before the +end of the War. Since the War ended seventy-three years ago and she was +the seventh child with possibly seven behind her, I feel that she could +not be younger than eighty. She remembers definitely running at the +approach of men she calls pateroles during "slavery time." + +Her mind may be fading, but it is a long way from gone. She questioned +me closely about my reason for getting statements from her. She had to +be definitely satisfied before the story could be gotten. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Arzella Smallwood + Hazen R.F.D., Green Grove, Arkansas +Age: 60 Doesn't know exact age + + +"I was born about eight miles from Williston, South Carolina. After +freedom my mother married Lee Ballinger and she had six children. He +died when I was real small. My mother was named Hester McCrary. Old +Master McCrary bought grandma and my mother in Virginia. One sister my +mother never did run across after freedom. She was older and sold to +other people. I think at freedom my mother left and I think grandma did +too. My grandpa was half Indian, but I never did see him to remember +what he looked like. Our young master is a doctor. He waited on my +mother before she died. Grandma was blind and she lived with us. Our +young master may still be living. Old mistress was named Sylvania and +she sent for my mother to come wait on her when she got sick to die. I +think they had pretty fair treatment there. My mother was to be a house +girl and cook. I think grandma was a cook and field woman both. + +"I heard them say the white folks took them to church to learn to pray, +then they didn't allow them to pray for freedom. But I don't think they +wanted freedom. After they was set free they died up so scand'lous. +Grandma said they had to work harder. My mother brought a good price +because she was real light color and sharp to learn. She had six +children and we was all darker than she was a whole lots. She and +grandma was both good on giving advice. Seem like they could see how +things would turn out every time. + +"I married a man with a roving nature. We come here. He left me, come +back for me to look after before he died. I married again. I left him. +He told me how I could do five washings a week and take care of us both. +I didn't aim to do it. I mighter got some washings but I didn't aim to +keep him. + +"I get a little commodities along to help out. I'm picking berries now +twenty-five cents a gallon for the first picking. Fifteen and twenty +cents is the regular prices. + +"I haven't got children and I don't know what they ought to do. I reckon +they do the best they can. + +"Times is hard on me. It takes me all the time to make a living." + + + + +Pine Bluff District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Martin & Barker +Subject: Negro Customs + +This information given by: Sarah Smiley (Colored) +Place of Residence: Humphrey, Arkansas +Age: 76 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +I was born the 10th of May, 1860. My home was in Charleston, S.C. I was +not a slave, but my parents were. + +My mother was a seamstress and my father, Edward Barnewill, was butler +for their white folks. + +I looks the door at sundown, and me and God are all by ourselves, and I +am not afraid. + +I came to Sherrill when I was a schoolgirl, and married when I was 14. +Lived here after I was married. Taught school before I was married. + +Had seven children by my first husband. My three husbands were Ike +Williams, Eli Treadvan, and Calvin Smiley. + +When asked about her books standing on her shelves--namely Golden Gems, +arithmetic, and the Bible, also a blue back speller--said she just loved +her books. + +Young folks of today don't love like they did in the olden days. Now it +is hot love, minute love, free love. + +When my first child was born, I begged the midwife not to cut me open to +get the baby out. The midwife told me the same place it went in the same +place it will come out. + +When my breasts began to grow (adolescence) I didn't want those bumps on +me, and tied them down with wide rags. + +Cures--I uses gasoline and cedar, soak it and rub on affected places for +rheumatism. + +I believe that you must not let your left hand know what your right hand +is doing. + +Heaven is a place of rest. If we are faithful to God, you can ride death +home. + +Hell is below--also here on earth. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Andrew Smith + R.F.D., Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 73 + + +"I was born after the surrender at Oxford, Mississippi. We belong to +Master Jim Smith. Mother cooked and father worked in the field. He was +on a average being good. They didn't trouble my mother as I recollect +hearing 'em say but they whooped them in the field. Pattyrollers chased +papa in sometimes. I heard him talk about it but I couldn't tell what he +said now. Mama had two before freedom, then she married and had three +children. He died. She married the second time and had two more +children. That made seben in all. + +"She said her first marriage was pronounced (announced). My mother said +their master refugeed them to Texas till the year of the surrender. They +didn't know nothing 'bout freedom till a while after they got back +from Texas. They stayed on that year and longer too not knowing 'bout +freedom. My rickerliction is short. + +"Frank Houston was a neighbor of our'n. He lived on my folks' joining +plantation close to Houston, Mississippi during slavery. During or +before the War come on he put his money in a barrel--hogshead. They +said it was gold and silver. I don't know. It might some been paper. He +rolled the barrel down to the river. It was the Tallahassee (?) River +eighteen miles northeast of Oxford, Mississippi. He hid his barrel of +money in the river. They hunted and hunted it and never could find it. +It might sunk in the mud and quick sand. Somebody might er hauled it out +and stole it. The whole neighborhood hope him hunt it. They never did +find it. I seen the old man and Jim Smith heaps of times. + +"I voted in Mississippi. I couldn't read. They had a big fight in the +country at Midway Church where we all voted. It was out a ways from +Oxford, Mississippi. I never voted in Arkansas. I pay poll tax. Never +'lowed to vote. + +"I never went to school a day in my life. + +"I come to Forrest City fifty-four years ago. Married here. Never had a +child. Now my wife dead. I farmed all my life. I bought a farm but they +never let me have it. I never got it all paid out. They took it. + +"I get Welfare help. I does some work. I'm nearly past hard work now." + + + + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Carol N. Graham +ADDRESS--Rear 456 West Main Street, El Dorado, Arkansas +DATE--November 1, 1938 +SUBJECT--Ex-slaves +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Caroline Smith, Route 1, El Dorado. +(Lives with Negroes by name of Green about 1 mile from Smith's Crossing) + +2. Date and time of interview--November 1, 1938, Tuesday morning, +9:30-10:30 + +3. Place of interview--at the home of some Negroes named Green. + +4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant--Had previously talked with Caroline. + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you--Mrs. Ethel +Depriest, 516 East Miles Street, El Dorado. + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.--a typical Negro farm +house. + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry-- + +2. Place and date of birth--Camden, Arkansas? No date. + +3. Family--one child. + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Camden and El Dorado. No dates. + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates--None + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview--This slave old enough to remember +Civil War. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"I first remembers living on the plantation of Mr. Jake Dumas near El +Dorado Landing. You know it's Calion now. We lived up towards Camden and +it was there that my ma and pa was married and buried. I was a big girl +durin' the war. My job was to card and spin. And I use to carry the +children to school. When I would get to the school I would put the +children off, git straddle and ride that horse home. When I would get +there old mos would say Ca'line did you run him? I'd say naw sir. Then +he'd say, 'Oh, Carryline put the horse in the lot and come out here. I'd +say, 'Master I didn't run that horse' but didn't do no good. He sure +would whip me. I'd get down and roll. I would stomp and he would do the +same. I wondered how he could tell I'd run that horse. But course he +could cause that horse had the thumps (heart beating rapidly). + +"I remember seeing the soldiers come through during the war. They come +by droves stealing horses, setting the cotton on fire and taking sumpin +to eat, too. + +"Yes, I does still member the songs we sung durin' the war but I've got +the asthmy and ain't got much wind fur singin'. + + "You want to know the reason, + You want to know the reason, + You want to know the reason, I'll tell you why, + We'll whip them Yankees, whole hog or die." + + "Hooray, Hooray, Hooray for the Southern Girl. + Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear. + My homespun dress is plain I know, + I glory in its name; + Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear." + +"I've got the asthmy honey and jest caint sing no more. + +"You asked 'bout my husband and chillun. I been married fo' times. My +first man's name was Dick Hagler, the next Frank Bibby, the next Henry +Harris and the last one was Tom Smith. That's where I get my name +Ca'line Smith. I never did have but one daughter but she had sixteen +chillun. She's daid now and mah granchillun is scattered. + +"I got the asthmy an jes don' feel like talkin' no more. Long time ago +when I was sick master always had a doctor to me now I have to hire one. +And they always fed me good and clothed me but after I was free I would +go round and work around to git a little sumpin to eat." + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Caroline Smith, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"Ca'line Smith's my name and dey calls me 'Aunt Ca'line.' I was born +about de year 1855 as I was about dis high (measuring) when de War broke +out. I remembers de boys marching away in their grey uniforms just as +plain. We chillen would watch dem as dey went away; we could see em as +we peeped through de winders and de cracks in de walls. + +"I was born in Mississippi close to Columbus on de plantation of my +master, John Duncan. And he was a purty strict old master, sure, but +sometimes he was kind to us. When we was set free he let us all go +wherever we wanted to, but didn't pay us nothin'. + +"All de slaves that I remembers stayed on around in different parts of +Mississippi after de War and engaged in farmin', and workin' on roads +and streets, and other public work. About forty years ago I come to Pope +County, Arkansas wid my parents and has lived here ever' since. + +"I don't remember nothin' about de Klu Klux Klan or if our folks was +ever bothered wid em. + +"Yes suh, I keeps workin' every day and likes to keep up my sewin'. +Plenty of it to do all de time--jest like I'm doin' today. My health is +purty good ceptin' I has a sort of misery in my side. + +"I draws a pension of $7.50 a month, but I dunno who sends it. + +"I belongs to de Adventist Church, and I sure believes in always tellin' +de trufe and nofin' but de trufe; we better tell de trufe here, for some +of dese days we all gwine where nofin' but de trufe will be accepted. + +"No suh, I ain't never took any interest in politics and ain't never +voted. + +"Dese young'uns today is simply too much for me; I can't understand em, +and I dunno which way dey headed. Some few of em seems to have sound +common sense, but--well, I just refuse to talk about em." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella Anderson +Person Interviewed: Edmond Smith + D Avenue + El Dorado, Ark. +Age: ? + + +"I was born in Arcadia, Louisiana a long, long time ago. Now my work +when I was a child was farmin'. I did not stay a child long, I been +grown ever since I was fourteen. My father lived till I was eleven, and +I thought since I was the oldest boy I could take his place of bossin', +but my mother would take me down a button hole lower whenever I got too +high. + +"Before my papa died we had a good livin'. We lived with his mistress's +daughter, and we thought we lived in heaven. My papa made all of the +shoes and raised all of the cattle from which he got the hide. We raised +all the wool to make our wool clothes and made all of the clothes we +wore. And food--we did not know what it was to go to a store to buy. +Didn't have to do that. You see, people now living out of paper sacks. +Every time they get ready to cook it's go to the store. We old timers +lived out of our smokehouse. + +"In there we had dried beef, cured pork, sugar from syrup, sweet +potatoes, onions, Irish potatoes, plenty of dried fruit and canned +fruit, peanuts, hickory nuts, walnuts; eggs in the henhouse and chickens +on the yard, cows in the pen and milk and butter in the house. + +"My mama even made our plow lines. She had a spinning wheel and you know +how to spin?--you can make ropes for plow lines too. Just twist the +cotton and have it about six inches long and put it in the loom and let +it go around and around. You keep puttin' the twisted cotton in the loom +and step on the peddle and no sooner than done, that was worked in a +rope. Now, if you don't know what I am talking about it is useless for +me to tell you. + +"After papa died that left no one to work but mama and I tell you time +brought about a change. A house full of little children--we lived from +hand to mouth. Not enough corn to feed one mule. No syrup, no hogs, no +cows. Oh! we had a hard time. I remember hearing my mama many a night +ask God to help her through the struggle with her children. The more my +mama prayed the harder times got with her. Wasn't no churches around so +she had to sing and pray at home. The first Sunday School I remember +going to was in 1892. I went to school and got as high as fifth grade, +then I ran away from my mama. + +"Just becaise I let old bad man overpower me I got grown and mannish. +Couldn't nobody tell me a thing. I would steal, I would fight, I would +lie. I remember in 1896 I went to church--that was about the fourth time +I had been to church. The preacher began preachin' and I went outdoors +and cut the harness off of his mule and broke one of his buggy wheels. I +went down in the woods and cut a cow just for meanness. I stole a gun, +and I would shoot anytime and anywhere, and nobody bothered me because +they was scared to. I stole chickens, turkeys and anything. + +"I got in trouble more times than a little, so the last time I got in +trouble some white people got me out and I worked for them to pay my +fine out. While working for them I made shoes. They taught me to do +carpenter work. They taught me to paint; to paper; to cook; work in the +field and do most anything. I came to my senses while working with those +people and they made a man out of me. When I left there I was a first +class carpenter. Those white people was the cause of me getting +independent. I didn't get no book sense, but if you get with some good +white people, that will be worth more than an education." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Emma Hulett Smith; Hazen, Arkansas +Age: 66 + +"I was the first colored baby born here or very near here. There was +only three houses in this town (Hazen). I think they muster been log +houses. + +"My folks belong to Dr. Hazen. He brought families from Tennessee. When +the war broke out he took em to Texas. Then he brought em back here. +When they was freed I heard my mother say they worked on for him and his +boys (Alex and Jim Hazen) and they paid them. He was good to them. They +had er plenty always. After the war they lived in good log houses and he +give em land and lumber for the church. Same church we got cept a storm +tore it down and this one built in place of it. He let em have a school. +Same place it stands now. My mother (Mandy Hulett) got a Union pension +till she died. She cooked at the first hotel in Hazen for John Lane. She +washed and ironed till she died. We girls helped and we wash and iron +all we can get now. None of us not on relief (Fannie nor Emma). I can't +wash no more. My hands and arms swell up with rheumatism. I still iron +all I can get. + +"The present conditions seems awful unsettled; wages low, prices high +and work scarce at times. Men can get work in the hay two months and +bout two months work in the rice or pickin cotton, either one. Then the +work has played clean out till hay time next year. + +"How do they live? Some of their _wifes_ cooks for white people and +they eat all they make up soon as they get paid. Only way they live." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ervin E. Smith + 811 Ringo Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +"I have been in this state for forty-nine years. I will be here fifty +years on the fifteenth of December. + +"I was born in Ebenezer Township, York County, South Carolina, on the +twenty-ninth day of April, in 1854. That makes me eighty-four years old +on Friday. I was born on Good Friday--on Good Friday at six o'clock in +the morning. + +"I am telling you what I was instructed all of my life. My father, W.D. +Smith, and my mother, Haria, told me these things. My mother carried a +nickname, Salina, all her life, but her real name was Haria. + +"I'll tell you how they happened to keep such good records. We had a +little advantage over the other people of that day. My father never +got any school education, but his brothers instructed him--his +half-brothers. They were white. They was good, too. I mean them brothers +thought just as much of me as they did of anybody else. So my father +got pretty good training. He got it from his brothers and that's how he +learned to keep such good records. + + +Relatives + +"I am told my mother cooked for one family for forty-two years. Her +maiden name was Haria Harris. She was three-fourths white. She come from +the Indian tribe--old Catawba Indians. Her own daddy was a white man, +but her Grand daddy on her mother's side was an Indian. + +"I am told that the old fellow bought my mother when she was fifteen +years old. Finally he got hold of both my father and my mother. Both of +them put together didn't have half colored blood. He must have loved +them a lot to work so hard to get them together. My father was half +white, but his mother was a mulatto woman (Interpreter's comment--This +should make him a quadroon)[TR: sentence lined out.]; and my mother's +great-grandmother was a colored woman. + +"I never knew much about race troubles. The best friend I ever had was +an old white grandmother. I was carefully shielded from all unpleasant +things. + + +Fort Sumter + +"I was looking at the men when they were getting ready to get on the +train to go to Fort Sumter. Mr. John White, Captain John White, I knew +him personally. He was one of our neighbors. That was in Ebenezer that +he was one of our neighbors. The soldiers going to capture Fort Sumter +caught the Columbia and Augusta train going to Charleston. Looked like +to me there was ten thousand of them. John White was the captain and +Beauregard [HW: here Gustave Toutant Beauregard.] was the general. + +"I didn't see the fighting because it was too far away. It was about +eighty miles from us where they got on the train to Fort Sumter. They +got on the train at Rock Hill. Rock Hill was a city--small city--real +close to Ebenezer. We lived near Rock Hill. They was adjoining towns. + + +Patrollers and Good Masters + +"The only patrollers I knew of was some that come on the place once and +got hurt. My mother had a brother Hobb and the patroller tried to whip +him. Hobb knocked all his front teeth out with a stick. Ches[TR:?] Wood +was the name of the patroller. It was like it is now. There were certain +white people who didn't allow any of their niggers to be whipped. I +never seen a patroller on my place. I have heard of them in other +places, but the only one to come on our place was the one Uncle Hobb +beat up. He had to take it, because you couldn't put anything over on +Harris' plantation. My people was rich people. They didn't allow anybody +to come on their places and interfere with then--their niggers. + +"I have heard my mother say that no white man ever struck her in her +life. I have had uncles that were struck. Two of them, and both of them +killed the men that struck them. Uncle Saul killed Edmund Smith and +Uncle George killed Ed McGehee. Uncle George's full white sister (his +half-sister) sent him away and saved him. They electrocuted Uncle +Saul--they executed him. + +"White men struck them and they wouldn't take it. They didn't do nothin' +at all to Hobb Baron. He got to his boss and the white folks was 'fraid +to come there after him. All of this was in slavery. My people ain't +never had no trouble with anybody since freedom; white people would get +mad with my uncles and try to do something to them, and they wouldn't +take it. + +"There were three races in the neighborhood where I was raised--niggers, +Indians, and white folks. They never sent the Indians out until 1876 +when I was a grown man. They sent them over there to Utah when it became +a state. I had a lot of Indian friends that went along at that time. + +"Bad blood was mixed up there and you couldn't do nothing to anybody and +get away with it. + + +First Pair of Shoes + +"I can remember the first pair of shoes my uncle gave me. They had a +little brass on the top of the toes to keep you from kicking them out +and skinning them up. That was way back yonder in the fifties. + + +Bible and Church in Slave Time + +"White people taught their niggers what Bible they wanted them to know. + +"'Who made you?' + +"'God.' + +"'Why did He make you?' + +"'For his own glory.' + +"'Why ought you to love God?' + +"'Because He made me and takes care of me.' + +"That was all the Bible they wanted you to learn. That, and just a few +more things. I could state them all. + + +Education + +"In 1866, everybody that was less than sixteen years old in South +Carolina had to go to school. The little fellows that had been slaves +had to go to school, and they got some education. You will hardly find +an old man from South Carolina around my age who can't read and write. +There was one hundred sixty pupils in my school. All boys. I never went +to a mixed school--a school where they had boys and girls both. + +"The first school I attended was in Ebenezer. I went to high school in +Macklenburg. Miss Sallie Good and Miss Mattie Train, Elias Hill, and +David G. Wallace--all of these were my teachers. They were all white +except Elias Hill. He was the only colored teacher in that section of +the country--at that time. + +"When I finished high school, I went to Biddle University. Biddle was +a boys' school. It was in Charlotte, North Carolina. They had a girls' +school in Concord, North Carolina. Biddle is still running, but it has +another name. Dr. Mattoon was president of Biddle then and Dr. Darling +was president of the girls' school. + + +Murders + +"The first murder ever I saw was Violet Harris killed Warren Fewell. It +come over a family quarrel some way. They fell out over something. She +was not related to him. It was done right at the fence at her gate. She +cut him with a butcher knife--stuck him just once right through the +heart. That is the first murder I ever saw. They were both colored. The +War was just winding up. It happened in Ebenezer. I don't recall that +they punished her. + +"I have seen a white man killed by a white man, and I have seen a +colored man killed by a colored man; but I have never seen a colored man +killed by a white man or a white man killed by a colored man. I have +seen them after they were killed, but I never seen the killing. I have +seen both races killing their own, but I have never seen them killing +across the races. + +"About fifty years ago, I saw a young man come in the church and kill +another one. Just come in and shot him. That is been fifty years +ago--back in 1881 in Ebenezer. + +"Rock Hill, South Carolina, from 1876 to a while later, bore the name +'Bloody Town.' They killed a man there every Saturday night in the +year--fifty-two times a year they killed a man. They had to send for the +Federal troops to bring them down. They didn't just kill colored people. +They killed anybody--about anything." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Frances Smith + 2224 Havis Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 77 + + +"I specs I was born in slavery times. I remember seein' the Yankees. +That was in Mississippi. I'm seventy-seven--that's my age. + +"Spencer Bailey was old master. Just remember the name was 'bout the +biggest thing I knowed about. I seen him all right but I didn't know +much about him 'cept his name. + +"Mother belonged to him, yes'm. + +"I tell you the truf, what little I used to remember I done forgot it. I +just didn't try to keep up with it. I wasn't concerned and just didn't +try to keep up with it. + +"I know our folks stayed there a while. First place we went to after the +War was Tennessee. + +"I don't know how long I been here--I been here a time though. + +"Yes'm, I went to school several terms. + +"I was married in Arkansas. My folks heard about Arkansas bein' such a +rich country, so they come to Arkansas. + +"I farmed a long time and then I done housework. + +"Deal a times I don't know what to think of this younger generation. I +sits down sometimes and tries to study 'em out, but I fails. + +"Well, what the old folks goin' to get out of this?" + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Henrietta Evelina Smith + 1714 Pine Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: + + +"I was born in Louisiana in East Felicie Parish near Baton Rouge on the +twenty-eighth day of December. My mother's name was Delia White. Her +maiden name was Delia Early. My father's name was Henry White. My +mother's father was named Amos Early. My mother's mother's name was +Julia. My father's father was named Tom White and his mother was named +Susan. + +"My father and mother both belonged to the Eason's. I don't know how +they spelled it. Eason's daughter married Munday and my uncle bought +this white man's place years after freedom. That is not far from +Clinton--about four or five miles. It is three miles from Ethel, +Louisiana. + +"Amos, my grandfather, was the wagoneer on the old place. Father, he +used to drive the wagon too. He'd haul cotton to Baton Rouge and things +like that. He would run off and stay five or six months. I have heard +them talk about how he used to come back and bring hogs and one thing +and another that he had found out in the woods. He would run off because +the overseer would whip him. But he was such a good working man that +once or twice, the boss man turned off his overseer on account of him. +There wasn't nothing against his work. He just wouldn't take a blow. +Most of the times after he had been out a while the boss man would tell +the hands to tell Amos that if he would come on home they wouldn't whip +him for running off. + +"My grandmother's mother on my father's side was named Melissa. I think +that was her name. My father's mother was named Susan like I told you. + +She was part Indian--better work hand never was. But she wouldn't be +conquered neither. When they got ready to whip her, it would be half a +day before they could take her. When they did get her, they would whip +her so they would have to raise her in a sheet. The last time they +whipped her, it took her nearly a year to get over it. So the white man +just turned her loose and told her she was free. She went on off and we +never did know what became of her. + +"The Easons were farmers and they had a large plantation. I don't know +just how many slaves they owned. + +"My father and mother were fed like pigs. They had an old woman that did +the cooking. She was broke down from work. They would give the slaves +greens and the children pot-liquor. My parents were field hands. My +mother was too young to carry a row when she was freed, but she worked +on an older person's row. They worked from can till can't. You know what +I mean, from the time they could see till the time they couldn't. Reb +time was something like the penitentiary now. It never got too cold nor +too hot to work. And there wasn't any pay. My parents never were given +any chance to earn any money. I heard that my grandpa used to make a +little something. He was a wagoneer you know. He would carry a little +extra on his load and sell it. His old master never did find it out. +People knew he had stole it, but they would buy it just the same. + +"The old boss man came down in the quarters and told them they were free +when freedom came. Right after freedom they stayed there on the old +place for a year or more. My mother wasn't grown and she and my father +married after that. Afterwards they had kind of a fight to get away from +the old man. He was carrying them the same way he was going before the +War and they had a row (quarrel), and left him. I don't know just what +terms they worked on. I don't think they did themselves. They took just +what they could get and didn't know just how they was paid. + +"If a man made a good crop, they would run him away and make him leave +his crops behind. + +"My folks continued to farm all their lives. They had trouble with the +night riders. They had to vote like they were told. If you voted the +wrong way they would get behind you and run you off. There were some +folks who would take pay for voting and then vote different, and when +the night riders found it out, there would be trouble. I don't believe +in taking money for voting, and I don't believe in lying. + +"My mother and father didn't get any schooling. That was allowed after +slavery, but it wasn't allowed in slavery time. They learned a little +from other people. They would slip and learn to read. + +"My great-grandmother was considered pretty when she was young. She had +glossy black hair and was a little short. She was brownskin and had big +legs. Her master would take her out behind the field and do what he +wanted. When she got free, she gave both of her children away. She had +two children by him--a boy named Eli and a girl named Anna. She didn't +want them 'round her because they reminded her of him." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The subject did not wish to state her age. It is probably around +sixty-five. Her mother was married shortly after freedom. And eight +years is probably a liberal allowance for the distance of her birth from +emancipation. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person Interviewed: Henry Smith + 702 Virginia, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 +Occupation: Odd jobs + + +"Yes mam, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Tennessee on a +plantation near Jackson. I was eight years old when peace was declared. +All I member is when they beat the folks pit near to death. + +"My old master was Tom Smith. Mean? Cose he was mean. Old mistress was +sorta good to us but old master was the devil. Used to make the men hold +the women while they whipped em. Make em wear old brogan shoes with +buckles across the instep. Had the men and women out fore day plowin'. I +member they had my mother out many a day so dark they had to feel where +the traces was to hitch up the mules. + +"My mother worked in the field and I stayed in front and helped her up +when she got behind. + +"I member when the Yankees had thousands and thousands of bales of +cotton in the streets right here in Pine Bluff and take a knife and +cut it open and put a match to it, and burn peoples houses and the gin +houses and everything. Take the hosses and mules and run em off. + +"Old master and mistress carried us to Texas till peace was declared. I +member one morning the mail come and old master had a long paper and he +called all us colored folks up and told us we was free. He told us we +could go or stay. They all wanted to stay so he brought em all back here +to Arkansas. He give each one three acres of ground and all they could +make on it. That's the nicest thing he ever done, but he didn't do that +but one year. After that the land fell back to him. Then they worked on +the halves. + +"When the colored folks went to buy stock and rent land from the whites, +it cost five and six dollars a acre. They sho could make some money that +way, too. + +"I was big enough to do right smart behind a plow. I could do a heap. We +got along pretty well. + +"I got married when I was bout eighteen and made a home for myself. Me +and my wife had twenty-two children. White folks helped us a lot. My +wife's dead and all my children dead 'cept four. + +"I been here in Pine Bluff twenty-two years. I been here a good +while--that ain't no joke. Used to make three dollars a day mowin' +grass. Bought this place with the money. Can't make that now. They won't +give you nothin' for your work. + +"Oh yes'm, I voted and wouldn't know what I was votin' till 'twas too +late. + +"Never went to school much. Learned to read a little bit. They kep' me +in the field. Yes ma'm, I've worked but I've never had a doctor to me in +my life. + +"Ain't much to this younger generation. The old race can get along a lot +better with the white folks than the young race can. + +"I'm the head deacon of the Morning Star Church. Read the Bible right +smart. I tell you one thing--I like all of it." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: J.L. Smith + 1215 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"I was born in 1862 in the month of September on the fifteenth. I +was born at a place they call Indian Bay on White River down here +in Arkansas. My mother was named Emmaline Smith and she was born in +Tennessee. I don't know really now what county or what part of the +state. My father's name was John Smith. He was born in North Carolina. +I don't know nothing about what my grandfather's name and grandmother's +names were. I never saw them. None of my folks are old aged as I am. My +father was sixty years old when he died and my mother was only younger +than that. + + +Experience of Father + +"I heard my father say that he helped get out juniper timber in North +Carolina. The white man me and my sister worked with after my father +died was the man my father worked with in the juniper swamp. His name +was Alfred Perry White. As long as he lived, we could do work for him. +We didn't live on his place but we worked for him by the day. He is dead +now--died way back yonder in the seventies. There was the Brooks and +Baxter trouble in 1874, and my father died in seventy-five. White lived +a little while longer. + +"My father was married twice before he married my mother. He had two +sets of children. I don't know how many of them there were. He had +four children by my mother. He had only four children as far as I can +remember. + +"I don't know how my father and my mother met up. They lived in the same +plantation and in the same house. They were owned by the same man when +freedom came. I don't know how they got together. I have often wondered +about that. One from Tennessee and the other from North Carolina, but +they got together. I guess that they must have been born in different +places and brought together through being bought and sold. + +"My mother was a Murrill. My father was a Cartwright. My father's +brother Lewis was a man who didn't take nothing much from anybody, and +he 'specially didn't like to take a whipping. When Lewis' master wanted +to whip him, he would call his mother--the master's mother--and have her +whip him, because he figured Uncle Lewis wouldn't hit a woman. + +"I have six children altogether. Two of them are dead. There are three +girls and one boy living. The oldest is fifty-seven; the next, fifty; +and the youngest, forty-eight. The youngest is in the hospital for +nervous and mental diseases. She has been there ever since 1927. The +oldest had an arm and four ribs broken in an auto accident last January +on the sixteenth of the month. She didn't get a penny to pay for her +trouble. I remember the man did give her fifteen cents once. The truck +struck her at the alley there and knocked her clean across the street. +She is fifty-seven years old and bones don't knit fast on people that +old. She ain't able to do no work yet. All of my daughters are out of +work. I don't know where the boy is. He is somewheres up North. + + +Slave Houses + +"I have seen some old log houses that they said the slaves used to live +in. I was too young to notice before freedom. I have seen different +specimens of houses that they lived in. One log house had a plank house +builded on to the end of it. The log end was the one lived in during +slavery times and the plank end was built since. That gal there of mine +was born in the log end. There were round log houses and sawed log +houses. The sawed log houses was built out of logs that had been squared +after the tree had been cut down, and the round log houses was built out +of logs left just like they was when they was trees. There's been quite +an improvement in the houses since I was a kid. + + +Food + +"I have heard my father and mother talking among themselves and their +friends, but they never did tell me nothing about slave times. They +never did sit down and talk to me about it. When they'd sit down and +start talkin', it would always be, 'Now you children run on out and play +while we old folks sit here and talk.' But from time to time, I would be +sitting on the floor playing by myself and they would be talking 'mongst +themselves and I would hear them say this or that. But I never heered +them say what they et in slave times. + + +Work + +"My father worked in the juniper swamp in North Carolina, like I told +you. I think I heard my mother say she cooked. Most I ever heard them +say was when they would get with some one else and each would talk about +his master. + + +Cruelties + +"I heard my mother say that her mistress used to take a fork and stick +it in her head--jog it up and down against her head. I don't know how +hard she punched her. My mother was very gray--all her hair was gray and +she wasn't old enough for that. I reckon that was why. + + +How Freedom Came + +"I don't remember how freedom came. They were refugeed--I call it +that--my father and mother were. My sister was born in Texas, and they +were back in Arkansas again when I was born. I was born and raised right +here in Arkansas. They were running from one place to the other to keep +the Yankees from freeing the slaves. I never even heard them say where +they were freed. I don't know whether it was here or in Texas. + + +Right After the War + +"I have no knowledge of what they did right after the War. The first +thing I remember was that they were picking cotton in Pine Bluff or near +there. It was a smoky log house I had to stay in while they were out in +the field and the smoke used to hurt my eyes awful. + + +Ku Klux and Patrollers + +"I don't remember nothing about the Ku Klux. I heard old folks say +they used to have passes to keep the pateroles from bothering them. I +remember that they said the pateroles would whip them if they would +catch them out without a pass. When I first heard of the Ku Klux Klan, +I thought that it was some kind of beast the folks was talking about. I +didn't hear nothing special they did. + + +Occupational Experiences + +"When I got old enough, I worked a farm--picked cotton, hoed, plowed, +pulled corn--all such things. That is about all I ever did--farming. +Farming was always my regular occupation. I never did anything else--not +for no regular thing. + + +Marriage + +"I married in 1879. My father and mother married each other too after +freedom. I remember that. It was when the government was making all +those that had been slaves marry. I have been married just the one time. +My wife died in April 1927. + + +Present Condition + +"I am not able to do anything now. I don't even tote a chair across the +room, or spade up the ground for a garden, or hoe up the weeds in it. I +am ruptured and the doctor says it is the funniest rupture he ever seen. +He says that there's a rupture and fat hanging down in the rupture. They +have to keep me packed with ice all the time. The least little thing +brings it down. I can't hold myself nor nothing. Have to wear something +under my clothes. + +"I don't get a pension." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Smith is sensitive about his first name--doesn't like to give it--and +about his condition. He doesn't like to mention it or to have it +referred to. + +He has an excellent memory for some things and a rather poor one for +some others. He got angry when his granddaughter supplied data about his +wife which he apparently could not recall. + +His physical condition is deplorable and his circumstances extremely +straitened. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: John H. Smith + 2602 W. Twelfth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 81 + + +"I reckon I was here, I member seein' the smoke from the guns look like +a cloud. + +"I was born in Missouri in 1856. I member _way_ back. Yes'm. I'm +old--I'm _old_. + +"I member seein' the soldiers--Yankees--eight or ten in a squad and they +asked me did I want to ride with em? Old mistress say, 'That's my boy!' +I member way back when they used to put the folks upon a block and sell +em. I member one night we was in the cabin and the Ku Klux come up on +horses. And I member when they was hollerin' peace was declared. + +"Mama told me I was born in 1856. Mama had all our ages in that big +Bible. + +"We stayed in St. Louis six years then we went to Chrystal City. +Missouri and I went to the glass factory and went to work. + +"Did I vote? Me? Yes'm, I voted many a time--Republican. I'm still a +Republican--always will be I reckon. I haven't voted for a long time but +I think everybody ought to have the liberty to vote. + +"I like to live in the North better cause the white folks treats you +better. They treats me all right here cause I don't do nothin'. + +"I member my white folks was good to me. + +"I went to school after the war whar I was born. C.N. Douglas, the son +of Napoleon Douglas, was my teacher. First teacher we had was Miss +Mary Strotter. I know she couldn't learn us anything so they got C.N. +Douglas. He brought that paddle with the little holes and he learned +us something. I know my sister was next to me and she couldn't get her +spelling and I'd work my mouf so she could see. C.N. Douglas caught me +at it and he whipped me that day. I never worked my mouf again. + +"I was the best speller in the school. I won a gold pen and ink stand +and George Washington picture. + +"Before the war I member the overseer would say, 'If you don't have that +done tonight, I'll whip you tomorrow.' They had one man was pretty bad +and I know they give him a thimble and a barrel and told him he had to +fill up that barrel, but he couldn't do it you know and so they whipped +him. + +"Mama used to whip me. She called me the 'Devil's Egg Bag' for a long +time. I used to take a darning needle and punch the eyes out of guineas +or chickens just to see em run around. She broke me of that. I know now +she never whip me enough, but she made a man of me. I got a good name +now. Always been a good worker. Done my work good and that's what they +want to know. Yes ma'm, I'm _old_." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Persons interviewed: Maggie Snow and Charlie Snow + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Ages: 69 and 75 + + +"My parents' names was Mary and Henderson Kurkendall. They had seven +children. Mama died when I was three years old. Papa was a Yankee +soldier. + +"They belong to the same white folks, Moster Jake and Peggy Kurkendall. +They had a big farm. + +"My papa told me that one morning they woke up and looked out over the +field. The Yankees had pitched their camps far as you could see on +Moster Jake's farm. They come up to his house. Moster Jake had a big +house and a big family. The Yankees come up there and throwed out all +they had and told the slaves to take it. No, they didn't; they was +scared to take it and it belong to them. They didn't want it all wasted +like they was doing. Papa said they rode their horses up to the house. +They took all the soldiers on the place to the camp. They was scared not +to go. + +"Papa left mama at the old home place and Moster Jake let them work all +they could. Papa stayed in the war till after the battle at Vicksburg. +Then he come home. They stayed awhile at Moster Jake's and worked. He +got his knee hurt and his health ruined. He never was no count after he +got back home. Mama could pick six hundred pounds of cotton a day he +said. They worked from daybreak till pitch dark in them days. + +"Little Jake Kurkendall is living now Enoch or Harrison Station, +Mississippi. He is older than I am. He got a family. But he is all the +son old Moster Jake had that I know living now. + +"Papa said the Yankees made all the slaves fight they could run across. +Some kept hid in the woods. Seem like from way he told bout it they +wanted freedom but they didn't want to go to war. + +"When we heard bout Arkansas being so rich and a new country, we wanted +to come. Some white and some colored come. We come to Aubrey, Arkansas. +We got six living, five dead children. I been here fourteen years (at +Brinkley). I hired out to cook in Mississippi but I wash and iron +and work in the field till I bout wore out. My husband in a terrible +condition. He picked some cotton. He got rheumatism in his legs. + +"We own a little home bout a mile from town and a pig. I wish I could +get a cow. I ain't got the money to buy one. Jess can't get one no way. +We had a fine garden. Two of us get $10 and commodities. Times so far +this year been good. When it gets cold times may be hard. Times better +this year than last or it been for a long time. + +"I didn't know I could vote. Guess my husband done my part of the +voting." + +"I am seventy-three years old. There was two boys and two girls of us. +My aunts and uncles raised me. My mother died when I was little and fore +that my papa went to the army and never come home. They said he got +killed or died--they didn't know. My parents belong to Berry Bruce. He +had a family I heard em say. He lived at Louisville, Mississippi. + +"I recollect the Ku Klux. I heard em talk a whole lot about em. One time +they rode round our house and through the hall of our house. Yes ma'am, +it scared us so bad it most paralyzed us all. They went on. We didn't +know what they wanted. We never did find out. + +"I don't vote. I never voted in my life. I don't recken I ever will. I +have been a hard worker all my life. I farmed. I loaded and unloaded on +a steamboat with my family farmin' in the country. The boat I run on +went from Memphis to New Orleans. + +"My family farmed at Batesville in the country out from there. For a +long time I made staves with the Sweeds. They was good workers. We would +make 1,000, then load the barge and send or take them to Vicksburg. I +got my board and $1 a day. + +"The present conditions for the cotton farmer has been better this year +than last. When it gets cold and no work, makes it hard on old men. I +got no job in view for the winter. + +"I would like to have a cow if I could raise the money to get one. I +been tryin' to figure out how to get us a cow to help out. I can't make +it. + +"I suffer all the time. I can't sit still, I can't sleep I suffer so wid +rheumatism. Nobody knows how I do suffer. My general health is fine. + +"This President has sure been merciful to the poor and aged. Surely he +will be greatly rewarded hereafter." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Robert Solomon, Des Arc, Arkansas +Age: 73 + + +My father was African. He was born in Atlanta. My mother was a Cherokee +Indian. Her name was Alice Gamage. I was born in 1864. I don't know +where I was born--think it was in the Territory--my father stole my +mother one night. He couldn't understand them and he was afraid of her +people. He went back to Savannah after so long a time and they was in +Florida when I first seen any of her people. When I got up any size I +asked my father all about him and my mother marrying. He said he knowed +her 'bout two year 'fore they married. They sorter courted by signs--my +mother learned me her language and it was natural fur me to speak my +father's tongue. I talked for them. She was bout fifteen when she run +away. I don't know if a preacher ever did marry em or not. My father +said she was just so pretty he couldn't help lovin' her. He kept makin' +signs and she made signs. I liked my Gramma Gamage. She couldn't +understand much. We all went to the Indian Territory from Florida and +Georgia. That's how I come out here. + +I don't remember the Ku Klux. I remember hearing ma and gramma talk +'bout the way they tried to get way from 'em. My father was a farmer +till freedom. He farmed around here and at Pine Bluff. He died at West +Point. My mother and step-mother both died at Pine Bluff. They took my +mother to her nation in Oklahoma. She was sick a good while and they +took her to wait on her. Then come and took her after she died. There +show is a fambly. My father had twenty-two in his fambly. My mother +had five boys and three girls and me. My stepmother had fourteen more +children. That's some fambly aint it? All my brothers and sisters died +when I was little and they was little. My father's other children jess +somewhar down round Pine Bluff. I guess I'd know em but I aint seed none +of them in I don't know how long. + +The first work I ever done was sawmilling at Pine Bluff. Then I went +down in Louziana, still sawmilling--I followed dat trade five or six +years. Den I got to railroading. I was puttin down cross ties and layin' +steel. I got to be straw boss at dat. I worked at dat fifteen years. I +worked doing that in six different states. That was show fine livin'--we +carried our train right along to live in. I married and went to farming. +Then I come to work at this oil mill here (in Des Arc). The reason I +quit. I didn't quit till it went down and moved off. I aint had nothin' +much to do since. I been carryin' water and wood fur Mrs. Norfleet +twenty years and they cooks fur me now. My wife died 'bout a year ago. +She been dead a year last January. She was sick a long time 'fore she +died. Well the relief gives me a little to eat, some clothes and I gets +$5.00 a month and I takes it and buys my groceries and I takes it up to +Mrs. Norfleet's. They says come there and eat. They show is good to me +'cept I aint able to carry the wood up the steps much no more. It hurt +me when I worked at the oil mill. I helped them 'bout the house all the +time. + +What I do wid my money I made? I educated my girls. Yes maam I show is +got children. One my girls teaches school in St. Louis and de other at +Hot Springs. They both went to college at Pine Bluff. I sent em. No'm +dey don't help me. They is by my second wife and my first wife live with +my son, down close to Star City. Dey farm. It's down in Lincoln County. +They let me live in this house. It belongs to him. I went to the bank +fo' it closed and got my money whut I had left. I been livin' on it but +it give out. + +The conditions are all right. They kin make a right smart but everything +is so high it don't buy much. Some of 'em say they ain't goiner do the +hardest work, hot or cold and liftin' for no dollar a day. Don't nobody +work hard as I used to. There's goiner be another war and a lot of them +killed--'cause people ain't doin right. Some don't treat the others +right. No'm they never did. They used to threaten em and take 'em out in +cars and beat 'em up, just for disputin' their word or not paying 'em +and de lack. The white man has cheated a heap because we was ignorant +and black. They gamble on the cotton and take might' near all of it for +the cheap grub they let out to make de crop on. Conditions are better +but a heap of the young black and white too deblish lazy to work. Some +of dem get killed out goin' on at their meanness. + +I heard of uprisings since the war but I never was 'bout none of them. + +I votes the Republican ticket. The last I voted was for Hoover. Sure +they have tried to change my way of voting but I ain't goiner change. +I ain't heard nothin' 'bout no restrictions 'bout votin'. If a woman +wanter vote it's all right. My girs and my boy votes right along. They +are all Republicans. + +The most money I ever has at one time was $600.00. I did save it. I +spent it on my girls' clothes and education. They did go to college at +Pine Bluff but they went to the Catholic High School first down at Pine +Bluff. No'm they don't help me. They say it's all dey can do to get +along. They never have told me how much they make. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: James Spikes + 2101 Bell Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 91 + + +"Good morning. Yes'm I remember the Civil War. I was a soldier. I was +between sixteen and seventeen when I enlisted in the war. + +"'Why did you enlist?' + +"I didn't know no better. I thought I would be took care of. They told +us the war was sposed to set the darkies free. My old master didn't want +me to go--cose not. But they was very good to me. I regard them just the +same as myself. + +"I enlisted in the 55th regiment of colored soldiers. Then I went off +with the Yankees. I was with them when they had the battle at Corinth, +Mississippi. + +"I was with them when the Yankees taken Corinth and whupped. The rebels +tried to take it back and the Yankees whupped 'em again. The regiment I +was with whupped 'em away from several places and kept 'em runnin'. + +"When we was in Fort Pickens I 'member they had a poll parrot--some of +the officers had trained it to say 'Corporal of the guard, Jim Spikes, +post No. 1." Sometimes I would draw my gun like I was going to shoot and +the poll parrot would say, 'Jim, don't you shoot me!' They got plenty a +sense. + +"The war was funny and it wasn't funny. Well, it was funny for the side +that won when we had scrummishes (skirmish). I never was captured but I +hoped capture a lot. + +"I stayed in the war till I was mustered out in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. +I was a good big fellow then. Oh Lord yes, I knowed most anything. + +"After that I went to Memphis and then I come to Arkansas and went to +farming with some white fellows named French. The river overflowed and +we lost 'bout all the cotton. + +"The government gives me a pension now cause I was a soldier. Yes'm it +comes in right nice--it does that." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Kittie Stanford + 309 Missouri Street; Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 104 + + +"Yes'm, I used to be a slave. My mother belonged to Mrs. Lindsey. One +day when I was ten years old, my old mistress take me over to her +daughter and say 'I brought you a little nigger gal to rock de cradle.' +I'se one hundred and four years old now. Miss Etta done writ it down in +the book for me. + +"One time a lady from up North ask me did I ever get whipped. Honey, I +ain't goin' tell you no lie. The overseer whipped us. Old mistress used +to send me to her mother to keep the Judge from whippin' me. Old Judge +say 'Nigger need whippin' whether he do anything or not.' + +"Some of the hands run away. Old Henry run away and hide in the swamp +and say he goin' stay till he bones turn white. But he come back when he +get hongry and then he run away again. + +"When the war come some of the slaves steal the Judge's hosses and run +away to Pine Bluff and he didn't never find 'em. The Judge think the +Yankees goin' get everything he got so we all left Arkansas and went to +Texas. We in Texas when freedom come. We come back to Arkansas and I +stay with my white folks awhile but I didn't get no pay so I got a job +cookin' for a colored woman. + +"I been married fo' times. I left my las' husband. I didn't leave him +cause he beat me. I lef' him cause he want too many. + +"No'm I never seen no Ku Klux. I heard 'bout 'em but I never seen none +that I knows of. When I used to get a pass to go to 'nother plantation I +always come back fo' dark. + +"This younger generation is beyond my onderstanding. They is gettin' +weaker and wiser. + +"I been ready to die for the last thirty years. 'Mary (her granddaughter +with whom she lives), show the lady my shroud.' I keeps it wropped up +in blue cloth. They tells me at the store to do that to keep it from +turning yellow. 'Show her that las' quilt I made.' Yes'm I made this all +by myself. I threads my own needle, too, and cuts out the pieces. I has +worked hard all my life. + +"Now the Welfare gives me my check. My granddaughter good to me. I goes +to church on the first and third Sundays. + +"Lady, I glad you come to see me and God bless you. Goo' bye!" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Tom Stanhouse + R.F.D. + Brinkley, Ark. +Age: 74 + + +"I was born close to Greenville, South Carolina. I lived down close to +Spartanburg. My mother was named Luvenia Stanhouse and Henry Stanhouse. +They had nine children. Grandma belong to Hopkins but married into the +Stanhouse family. Grandpa's name was Tom. They set him free. I guess +because he was old. He lived about mong his children. + +"When they was set free old man Adam Stanhouse was good to em. He +treated em nice but they never got nothing but their clothes. They moved +on another place and started working sharecropper. + +"Before freedom old man Adam Stanhouse would give my pa a pass or his +pocket knife to show to go to see my ma. She lived at Dr. Harrison's +farm five miles apart. They all knowed Adam Stanhouse's knife. I don't +know how they would know it. He never let his Negroes be whooped unless +he said so. Owners didn't 'low the Ku Klux whoop hands on their place. + +"Adam Stanhouse brought my pa from Virginia with him. Some of them men +thought might near much of his slaves as they did their children. Or I +heard em say they seem to. My pa married my ma when she was thirteen +years old. They had nine children. + +"I heard ma say Dr. Harrison practiced medicine. His wife was named Miss +Lizzie. They had two boys and three girls. + +"Ma was a house girl. Pa was a field hand. One time traders come round +and ma's owner wanted to sell her and his wife objected. She wasn't sold +that time. I don't know if she was sold or not. + +"I don't know no more about that war than I do about the German war +(World War). I was a little boy when it was all over. I left South +Carolina in 1888. Ma was a part Red Indian and pa was a half Black Creek +Indian. I had two children before I left South Carolina. I was married +back there. I paid my own way and come to Fargo. I was trying to better +my condition. In 1896 I come to Brinkley. Before that I lived at Dark +Corner eight years. In 1920 ma and pa come to me and died with me. I +paid $25.00 for my second class ticket to Fargo--in 1888. + +"Since 1864 to 1937 I farmed, sawmilled, threshed, run a grist mill, run +a cotton gin and worked about em. I farmed eight or nine years across +the bayou here. + +"I own a home. My wife is living. I get 'demodities', no money. I got +two girls living. One girl is in New Jersey and one in Michigan. They +make their living. + +"I think the world is going on worse than ever I seen it. Folks can't +live without money. They don't try to raise their living no more. I +ain't no prophet. The world going to nothing way I see it." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Isom Starnes, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born in Marshall County, Alabama near Guntersville. Father belong +to the Starnes. They bought him in Alabama. My parents' name was Jane +and Burrel Starnes. They had two children I knew of. When they was set +free they left and started renting. I don't remember much that happened +before freedom. I picked up chips and put them in a split basket I just +could chin. I'd fill all the baskets and they would haul them up to put +under the iron skillet. Other chaps was picking up chips too. They used +some kinds to smoke the meat. I could tote water on my head and a bucket +in each hand. They was small buckets. We had to come up a path up the +hill. I stumped my toe on the rocks till they would bleed; sometimes it +looked like the nail would come off. My mother was a good cook. I don't +know what she was doing in slavery. + +"I been farming all my life. Yes, I owned ninety-eight acres in Alabama. +I had a home on it. I lost it. We brought a suit for water damage. We +lost it, I reckon. They fixed a dam that ruined my place. I left and +went to the North--to Springfield, Ohio. I started public work and +worked three or four months in a piano factory. I liked farming the best +and come back to it. My boys hope me down hill. I got two boys. My girl +left me all I got now. She is dead. I got a home and twenty-five acres +of ground. She made the money washing, ironing and farming. I 'plied for +the old folks' pension but didn't get it and give it up. I made four +bales cotton, one hundred pounds seed cotton. My place is half mile from +town. I have to get somebody to do all the work. + +"My father did vote. He voted a Republican ticket. I have voted but I +don't vote now. I voted a few days ago for a little cotton this year. It +was the cotton control election. I voted a Republican ticket. I found +out Democrat times is about the best time for us in the South. I +quit voting because I'm too old to keep up with it. If a woman owns +anything--land or house--she ought to be allowed to vote. + +"The times is mighty hard. I need a little money now and I can't get it +nowhere. It looks like bad times for me. The young folks don't work hard +as I did. I kept study (steady) at farming. I liked it. My race is the +best fitted for farming and that is where we belong. I never been in +jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." + + +Interviewer's comment + +I stopped this clean, feeble, old Negro--humble as could be--on the edge +of town. He had a basket of groceries taking to his old wife. It was a +small split basket. His taxes worried him. He couldn't get a holt on any +money, so I told him about the Farmers' Loan. He was so scared looking +I felt he didn't tell me all he knew. He looked tired. I gave it up and +jokingly asked him if he had ever been in jail. He said, "I never been +in jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." I laughed good and +thanked him. I told a young woman who had curiously been trying to catch +the conversation from her yard that I feared I frightened the old man +till he couldn't think to tell me all he knew. She said, "Maybe so but +he has a reputation of being good as gold and his word his bond." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Ky (Hezekiah) Steel + West Fifth Avenue (rear), Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85 +Occupation: Yard man + + +"What is it you want to know? Well, I was born in North Carolina. I know +they brought me here from North Carolina in slavery times. I couldn't +keep no count of it, lady, 'cause I didn't know. I know I was big enough +to walk behind the wagon pickin' up corn. I know that. That was in +slavery times. + +"Mr. June Ingraham's father brought me here. + +"Oh, that's a long time ago. Mr. June and I was boys together. I was +born in the Ingraham family. + +"They carried me from here to Texas. I stayed there till I was grown and +married. Then I come back to Arkansas I got with Mr. June's son and I +been here since. + +"Never have gone to school a day. Can't read but I can spell a little. + +"I've done most all kinds of work--split rails, cut wood, farm work, and +railroad work on the section. + +"Ku Klux come out there where I was in Texas. Didn't bother me--they was +just around first one place, then another. + +"I voted once. I guess it was Republican. I don't remember now who I +voted for. I didn't take much interest in politics--only just what I'd +hear somebody say. + +"Yankees was camped near us in Texas to keep the wild Indians back. That +was after the War. Yes'm, sure was. + +"I know the very night old missis told us we was free. Called all us +slaves up there together. Told us we was just as free as she was. I +always will remember that. + +"I stayed there till we got through the crop. Then I went to +Paris, Texas and portered in a little hotel there. Then I went +wagonin'--haulin' stuff. + +"They used to whip me in slavery times when they got ready. Need it? +well, they said I did. Hurt my feelin's and hurt my hide too, but they +raised me to do whatever they said. + +"This younger generation ain't no good--they ain't raised up like I was. +Things is a whole lot different than they used to be. The folks ain't +prayin' to God like they used to. Ain't livin' right. + +"I had two brothers killed in time of the War. That's what the old +people told me after I come back from Texas. + +"Yes'm, I've had plenty to eat all my life--up until now; I ain't got so +much now. + +"I keep the rheumatism pretty much all the time but I ain't never been +down sick so I couldn't help myself. + +"I'm telling you just what I know and what I don't know I couldn't tell +you. Good-bye." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Maggie Stenhouse, + (a mile down the railway track), + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 72? + + +"Mama was owned by Master Barton. She lived on the line of North +Carolina and South Carolina. Her husband was sold away from her and two +children. She never seen him no more. Rangments was made with Master +Barton to let Master Liege Alexander have her for a cook. Then she went +to Old Pickens, South Carolina. Liege Alexander had a white wife and by +her he had two girls and a boy. He had a black cook and by her he had +two boys and a girl. One of these boys was my papa and I told you the +old man bought my mama from Master Barton for his colored son. My papa +never was sold you see cause he was the old white man's boy. After his +white wife died his two girls married and the boy left Old Pickens, and +they told his colored wife and her two boys and girl if they would stay +and take care of him as long as he lived they could have the property. +My papa went off five or six miles and built him a log house. + +"The old man--Master Liege Alexander--was blind when his wife died and +he had to be tended to like a child. He would knock his stick on the +wall and some of the small children would lead him about where he wanted +to go. His white children didn't like the way he had lived so they +didn't want to be bothered with him. + +"My parents' names was Cheney Barton and Jim Alexander. Papa was medium +dark and so was his own brother but their sister was as white as the +woman's two girls and boy. + +"After the railroads sprung up the town moved to New Pickens. + +"Master Liege Alexander had lots of slaves and land. I reckon the white +wife's children fell heir to the farm land. + +"My aunt and grandma cooked for him till he died. They kept him clean +and took care of him like as if his white wife was living. The colored +wife and her girl waited on the white wife and her children like queens. +That is what papa said. + +"Durin' slavery there was stockmen. They was weighed and tested. A man +would rent the stockman and put him in a room with some young women he +wanted to raise children from. Next morning when they come to let him +out the man ask him what he done and he was so glad to get out. Them +women nearly kill him. If he said nothin' they wouldn't have to pay for +him. Them women nearly kill him. Some of the slave owners rented these +stockmen. They didn't let them work in the field and they kept them fed +up good. + +"Fore the Civil War broke out mama said Master Barton hid a half bushel +solid gold and silver coins over the mountains. He had it close to the +spring awhile. Mama had to go by it to tote water to the house. She said +she never bothered it. He said he could trust her and she wouldn't +tell a lie. He took another sack of money over the mountains and the +silverware. His wife died during the war. A lot of people died from +hearing of the war--heart failure. I don't know what become of his +money. He lost it. He may forgot where he hid it. It was after his wife +died that he sold mama to Jim Alexander's papa. + +"The Yankees rode three years over the country in squads and colored +folks didn't know they was free. I have seen them in their old uniforms +riding around when I was a child. White folks started talking about +freedom fore the darkies and turning them loose with the clothes they +had on and what they could tote away. No land, no home, no place; they +roamed around. + +"When it was freedom the thing papa done was go to a place and start out +share croppin'. Folks had no horses or mules. They had to plough new +ground with oxen. I ploughed when I was a girl, ploughed oxen. If you +had horses or mules and the Yankees come along three or four years after +the war, they would swap horses, ride a piece, and if they had a chance +swap horses again. Stealing went on during and long after the war. + +"The Ku Klux was awful in South Carolina. The colored folks had no +church to go to. They gather around at folks' houses to have preaching +and prayers. One night we was having it at our house, only I was the +oldest and was in another room sound asleep on the bed. There was a +crowd at our house. The Ku Klux come, pulled off his robe and door face, +hung it up on a nail in the room, and said, 'Where's that Jim Jesus?' He +pulled him out the room. The crowd run off. Mama took the three little +children but forgot me and run off too. They beat papa till they thought +he was dead and throwed him in a fence corner. He was beat nearly to +death, just cut all to pieces. He crawled to my bed and woke me up and +back to the steps. I thought he was dead--bled to death--on the steps. +Mama come back to leave and found he was alive. She doctored him up and +he lived thirty years after that. We left that morning. + +"The old white woman that owned the place was rich--big rich. She been +complaining about the noise--singing and preaching. She called him +Praying Jim Jesus till he got to be called that around. He prayed in +the field. She said he disturbed her. Mama said one of the Ku Klux she +knowed been raised up there close to Master Barton's but papa said he +didn't know one of them that beat on him. + +"Papa never did vote. I don't vote. I think women should vote much as +men. They live under the same law. + +"I come to Arkansas about forty-five years ago. Papa brought us to a new +country, thought we could do better. I been farming, cooking, washing. I +can't do my own cooking and washing now. I got rheumatism in my joints, +feet, knees, and hands. We don't get no help of no kind. + +"My daughter is in Caldwell, New Jersey at work. She went there to get +work. She heard about it and went and haven't come home. I jes' got one +child." + + + + +Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg +Person interviewed: Mrs. Charlotte E. Stephens + 1420 West 15th Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +I was born right here in Little Rock. My father was owned by a splendid +family--the Ashleys. The family of Noah Badgett owned my mother and the +children. Pardon me, madam, and I shall explain how that was. In many +cases the father of children born in slavery could not be definitely +determined. There was never a question about the mother. From this you +will understand that the children belonged to the master who owned the +mother. This was according to law. + +My father's family name was Andrews. How did it happen that it was not +Ashley?... Oh, my dear, you have been misinformed about all slaves +taking the name of the master who owned them when peace came.... No, +madam. My father was named William Wallace Andrews after his father, +who was an English gentleman. He had come to Missouri in early days and +owned slaves.... Yes, my grandfather was white. The Ashleys brought my +father to Arkansas Territory when they came. They always permitted him +to keep his family name. Many other masters did the same. + +From the standpoint of understanding between the white and colored +races, Little Rock has always been a good place to live. The better +class families did not speak of their retainers as slaves; they were +called servants. Both my parents were educated by their masters. Besides +being a teacher and minister my father was a carpenter and expert +cabinet worker. + +The first school for Negroes in Little Rock was opened in 1863 and was +taught by my father. I went to school to him. A few months later there +came from the north a company of missionary teachers and opened a school +which I attended until 1867. My father was a minister of the Methodist +Episcopal church for colored people on what is now Eighth and Broadway. +He also had a chapel on the property of Mr. Ashley. You probably know +that during slavery days the slaves belonged to and attended the same +church as their white folks. They sat in the back, or in a balcony built +for them. My father was considered the founder of Wesley Chapel, which +was Methodist Episcopal. From that time until this day I have been a +member of that church. Seventy-three years, I think it is. Before the +break came in the Methodist church, you know, it was all the same, north +and south. After the division on account of slavery the Methodist church +in the south had the word "south" attached. For a long time my father +did not realize that. In 1863 he and his church went back into the +original Methodist church. + +In 1867 the Society of Friends--we called them Quakers--came and erected +a large two-story schoolhouse at Sixth and State streets. It was called +Union school. When it was built it was said by the Quakers that it was +to be for the use of colored children forever, but within a year or two +the city bought the property and took charge of the school. As far as +I can now recall, white and colored children never did attend the same +school in Little Rock. There have always been separate schools for the +races. I am able to remember the names of the first teachers in the +Quaker school; J.H. Binford was the principal and his sister taught the +primary department. Other teachers were Miss Anna Wiles (or Ware), Miss +Louise Coffin, Miss Lizzie Garrison, and Sarah Henley. + +I was about 11 years old when peace came and was living with my mother +and the other children on the Badgett plantation about 7 miles east of +Little Rock. Mother did laundry and general house work. Being a small +child, all that was asked of me was to run errands and amuse the little +white children. Madam, if I could tell you the great difference between +slave owners it would help you in understanding conditions of today +among the colored people. Both my father and my mother had peculiar +privileges. The Ashley family were exceptional slave owners; they +permitted their servants to hire their time. There was class +distinction, perhaps to greater extent than among the white people. Yes, +madam, the slaves who lived in the family with master and mistress were +taught just about the same as their own children. At any rate, they +imitated them in all matters; to speak with a low voice, use good +English, the niceties of manners, good form and courtesy in receiving +and attending guests. + +I began teaching in Little Rock schools when I was 15 years old and am +still teaching. In all, it is 69 years, and my contract is still good. +My first experience as a teacher, (as I told you I was fifteen) was by +substituting for a teacher in that first Missionary school, in 1869. For +some reason, she did not return, and the School Board appointed me in +her place. After one year I was given leave of absence to attend Oberlin +College in Ohio. I spent three years there, but not in succession. When +my money would give out I would come home and the School Board would +provide work for me until I could earn enough to carry me through +another term. I finished at Oberlin in 1873. I extended my work through +courses at Normal schools and Teacher's Institutes. I have taken lecture +courses in many colleges, notably the University of California in 1922. +I have taught all grades from the first to the twelfth. My principal +work, for the last 35 years, however, has been high school Latin and +English and Science. + +At present I am serving as librarian at the Senior high school and +Junior College. I have twice served as principal of city schools in +Little Rock. First at Capitol Hill. The Charlotte E. Stephens school at +18th and Maple was named in my honor. I have a book I have kept for 68 +years regarding those first schools, and I'm told it is the only one +in existence. I also have the first monthly report card ever issued in +Little Rock. Mr. Hall (Superintendent of Little Rock City Schools) has +asked me to will it to the School Board. + +I could recall many interesting events of those early schools for the +colored race. Old, old slaves came, desiring to learn to read and spell. +They brought the only books they could find, many of which proved to be +almanacs, paper bound novels discarded by their mistress and ancient +dictionaries, about half of which might be missing. + +Yes, madam, I do remember that the emancipated slaves were led to +believe they would be given property and have just what their masters +had been accustomed to enjoy. I remember hearing my mother tell, in +later years, that she really had expected to live as her mistress had; +having some one to wait upon her, plenty of money to spend, ride in a +carriage with a coachman. But she always added that the emancipated ones +soon found out that freedom meant more work and harder than they had +ever done before. + +What did they work at? Pardon me please for so often reminding you of +conditions of that time. Few of the trades workers were white. Brick +makers and brick layers, stone masons, lathers, plasters,--all types of +builders were of the freed men. You must remember that slaves were the +only ones who did this work. Their masters had used their labor as their +means of income. Not all slaves were in the cotton fields, as some +suppose. The slave owners of towns and villages had their slaves learn +skilled trade occupations and made a great deal of money by their +earnings. The Yankee soldiers and the many Northern people who lived +here hired the freed men and paid them. Quite soon the colored people +were buying homes. Many were even hired by their former masters and paid +for the work they formerly did without pay under slavery. + +I remember Bill Read and Dave Lowe. They had been coachmen before +freedom. By combining their first savings, they bought a hack, as it was +called. It was more of a cab. For all those who did not have private +conveyances, this was the only way of getting about town. It was Little +Rock's first taxi-cab business, I should say. Bill and Dave made a +fortune; they had a monopoly of business for years and eventually had +enough cabs to take the entire population to big evening parties, +theater, and all places where crowds would gather. + +No, madam, I do not recall that we had any inconvenience from the Ku +Klux Klan. If they made trouble in Little Rock I do not now remember it. +I did hear that out in the country they drove people from their homes. +Yes, madam, I do remember, quite distinctly, the times when colored men +were voted into public offices. John C. Corbin was State Superintendent +of Public Instruction. Phillips county sent two colored men to the +legislature; they were W.H. Gray and H.H. White, both from Helena. +J.E. Bush of this city followed M.W. Gibbs as Police Judge. After +reconstruction when all colored people were eliminated from public life +all these people returned to their trade. + +I was 22 when I married. My husband was a teacher but knew the carpenter +trade. During the time that Negroes served in public office he served as +deputy sheriff and deputy constable. He was with me for 41 years before +his death; we raised a family of six children and gave each one a +college education. + +Now, you have asked my opinion of present conditions of the younger +generation. It seems to me they are living in an age of confusion; they +seem to be all at sea as to what they should get for themselves. I do +know this. In some respects the modern frankness is an improvement over +the old suppression and repression in the presence of their elders. +At the same time, I think the young people of today lack the proper +reverence and respect for age and the experience it brings as a guide +for them. During my long years of teaching I have had opportunity to +study this question. I am still making a study of the many phases of +modern life as it affects the young people. I do not like the trend +of amusements of today; I would like for our young people to become +interested in things more worth while; in a higher type of amusement. +Conditions of morality and a lack of regard for conventions is +deplorable. Smoking among the girls has increased the common use of +liquor between the sexes. + +Did you ask me about the voting restrictions for the colored race in +this State? I will tell you frankly that I think the primary law here is +unjust; most unjust. We are citizens in every other respect; the +primary voting privilege should be ours also. This restriction has been +explained as coming down from "the grandfather clause" inserted in early +legislation. I cannot give you the exact wording of the clause but +the substance was that no person whose ancestor--grandfather--was not +entitled to vote _before_ 1863 should have the right to the ballot. +Of course it is readily seen that this clause was written purely for the +purpose of denying the vote to the colored people. + +Perhaps, madam, my talk has been too much along educational lines. You +asked me about my life since freedom came and how I have lived to the +present time. I have had the blessed privilege of being a teacher--of +doing the work I love best of all in the world to do. I have written the +story of my life work; it is all ready to be published. I have written +"The Story of Negro Schools in Little Rock" and "Memoirs of Little +Rock." Madam, I have written, I suppose, what would amount to volumes +for our church papers and local Negro newspaper. My daughter was, at one +time, editor of the Womens' Page. No, I'm indeed sorry that I have not +kept a scrapbook of such writings. In these latter years my friends +scold me for having destroyed all the papers as fast as they were read. +The most of the news in the articles, however, I have used in the +manuscripts of the books I hope to have published. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: William J. Stevens, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: Up in 70's + + +"I was born in Pleasant Hill, Alabama. My owners were Haley and Missouri +Stevens. They owned Grandma Mary. Pa was born on the place. Mother was +sold from the Combesses to Stevens. Mother's mother was a Turk Dark +Creek Indian. She was a free woman. Her name was Judy. I called her +Grandma Judy. She was old but not gray. She had long black hair as I +remember her. Mother was named Millie. Haley bought her for my pa. _My +pa's father was Haley Stevens' own son_. He was his coachman. Pa +never worked a great deal. Mother never cooked till after emancipation. +She was the house girl and nurse. Life moved along smoothly as much as I +ever heard till freedom come on. The Indians was independent folks. My +mother was like that. Haley Stevens took his family to Texas soon as +freedom come on. Mother went with them. They treated her so nicely. Pa +wouldn't follow. He said she thought more of them than she did him. He +kept me with him. He married again. He was a barber at Selma, Alabama. +He died a barber at Anniston, Alabama. While my mother was in Texas +she went to see her mother in Hickory, Alabama. She was talking with a +tramp. He had helped my pa in the shop at Selma. Mother took the train +and come to pa's and my stepmother's house. I was fourteen years old +then and still wore a long shirt-like dress. They treated her the +nicest kind. She told them she was married to a man named Sims down in +Mississippi. She went back. I don't know where. The barber business was +a colored man's trade in the early days. + +"Soon after freedom I made two trips a day and carried my young +mistress' books to school. It was a mile for us to go 'round the road to +Pleasant Hill. She married C.C. Williams. I cooked for her. I cooked her +daughter's weddin' supper. She had two girls, Maude and Pearl. I worked +there fourteen years for my clothes and something to eat. Then I went to +myself. When I wasn't cooking I worked in Mr. C.C. Williams' sash and +blind factory. They was big rich folks. Mrs. Williams had a hundred rent +houses. She went about in her carriage and collected rent. That was at +Meridian, Mississippi. They learned me more than an education--to work. +She learned me to cook. I cooked all my life. I cooked here at the +Rusher Hotel till I got so old I was not able to do the work. + +"I do little odd jobs of work where I can find them. I 'plied for the +Old Age Pension but they give me commodities and that's all. I supports +my own self such as it be. + +"I find the young generation don't stick to jobs like I had to do. Seems +like they want an education to keep them out of work. Education does +some good and some more harm than good. Oh, times! Times is going fast. +Well with some I reckon. Some like me is done left. I mean I got slower. +Time getting faster. I'm done left outen the game. Time wait for no +man." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Minnie Johnson Stewart + 3210 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: Between 50 and 60? + + +"My mother's name was Mahala McElroy. Her master's name was Wiley +McElroy. She was living in Howard County, Arkansas near Nashville. She +worked in the field, and sewed in the house for her mistress. One time +she said she never would forget about slavery was a time when she was +thirteen years old, and the overseer beat her. + +"My mother was a real bright woman with great long black hair. Her +master was her father. She told me that the overseer grabbed her by her +hair and wound it 'round his arm and then grabbed her by the roots of it +and jerked her down to the ground and beat her till the blood ran out of +her nose and mouth. She was 'fraid to holler. + +"Mother married when she was fourteen. I can't remember the name of +her husband. The preacher was an old man, a faith doctor, who read the +ceremony. His name was Lewis Hill. + +"I heard mother say they beat my brother-in-law (his name was Dave +Denver) till he was bloody as a hog. Then they washed him down in salt +and water. Then they beat him again because he hollered. + +"She told us how the slaves used to try to pray. They were so scared +that the overseer would see them that early in the morning while they +were going to their work in the field at daybreak that they would fall +down on one knee and pray. They were so 'fraid that the overseer would +catch them that they would be watching for him with one eye and looking +for God with the other. But the Lord understood. + +"My mother was seventy years old when she died. She has been dead thirty +years." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Liza Stiggers, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 70 plus + + +"I was born in Poplar Grove, Arkansas on Col. Bibbs' place. Mama was +sold twice. Once she was sold in Georgia, once in Alabama, and brought +to Tennessee, later to Arkansas. Master Ben Hode brought her to +Arkansas. She had ten children and I'm the only one living. Mama was a +dancing woman. She could dance any figure. They danced in the cabins and +out in the yards. + +"The Yankees come one day to our house and I crawled under the house. I +was scared to death. They called me out. I was scared not to obey and +scared to come on out. I come out. They didn't hurt me. Mr. Ben Hode hid +a small trunk of money away. He got it after the War. The slaves never +did know where it was hid. They said the hair was on the trunk he hid +his money in. It was made out of green hide for that purpose. + +"Mama had a slave husband. He was a field hand and all kind of a hand +when he was needed. Mama done the sewing for white and black on the +place. She was a maid. She could cook some in case they needed her. She +died first. Papa's foot got hurt some way and it et off. He was so old +they couldn't cure it. He was named Alfred Hode. Mama was Viney Hode. +She said they had good white folks. They lived on Ben Hode's place two +or three years after freedom. + +"I farmed, cooked, and ironed all my life. I don't know how to do +nothing else. + +"I live with my daughter. I got a son." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: James Henry Stith + 2223 W. Nineteenth Street + Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I was born la Sparta in Hancock County, Georgia, in January 26, 1866. +My father was named William Henry Stith, and I was a little tot less +than two years old when my mother died. My father has called her name +often but I forget it. I forget the names of my father's father, too, +and of mother's people. That is too far back. + +"My father was born in 1818. He was born in Georgia. His master was +named W.W. Simpson. He had a master before Simpson. Simpson bought him +from somebody else. I never can remember the man's name. + + +Houses + +"The first houses I saw in Georgia were frame or brick houses. There +weren't any log houses 'round where I was brought up. Georgia wasn't a +log house state--leastwise, not the part I lived in. In another part +there were plenty of sawmills. That made lumber common. You could get +longleaf pine eighty to ninety feet long if you wanted it. Some little +towns didn't have no planing mills and you would have to send to Augusta +or to Atlanta for the planing work or else they would make planed lumber +by hand. I have worked for four and five weeks at a time dressing +lumber--flooring, ceiling, siding, moldings, and so on. + +"My father was still with Simpson when I remembered anything. At that +time the house we lived in was a weatherboarded house just like the ones +we live in now. It was a house that had been built since freedom. Old +man Simpson sent for my father and told him to build a house for himself +on the grounds. My father had been with Simpson for so long and had done +so much work for him during slave time that Simpson didn't want to do +without him. He supplied all the lumber and materials for my father. +During slave time, Simpson had hired my father out to the other planters +when he had nothing for him to do in the line of building on his own +plantation. He had had him to superintend his grist mill. All that was +in slavery time. My father was a highly skilled laborer. He could do a +lot of other things besides building. So when freedom came, he wanted +my father 'round him still. They both fished and hunted. He wanted my +father to go fishing with him and keep him company. My father was a +carpenter of the first class, you see, even in slave time. That was all +he done. He was brought up to be a carpenter and did nothing but that +all his time. My daddy was a mighty good mechanic. + + +Good Master + +"My daddy's master was a very good and kind one. My father was not under +any overseer. He worked directly under his master. + +"I remember one incident he told me. His master hired a new overseer who +hung around for a bit watching my father. Finally, my father asked him, +'Now, what are you able to do?' The overseer answered. 'Why, I can see +all over and whip all over, and that's as much as any damn man can do.' + +"Nobody was allowed to touch my father. He never had no trouble with +the pateroles either. Old man Simpson didn't allow that. He was a free +agent. When he wasn't working for Simpson, he was working for the next +big farmer, and then the next one, and then the next one, and old man +Simpson got wages for his work. Sometimes he worked a contract. Old man +Simpson couldn't afford to have him handicapped in his going and coming. +He could go whenever he wanted to go, and come back whenever he got +ready, with a pass or without one. His time was valuable. + +"The reason why so many slaves suffered as much as they did as a rule +was not because of the masters but because of the poor white trash +overseers. I know of several rich white women that had slaves that +wouldn't allow them to be mistreated. They would fire four and five +overseers to keep their slaves from being mistreated. + + +Mean Masters + +"But there were some mean masters. I have heard that right there in +Georgia there was one white planter--I think it was Brantley---who put +one of his slaves that had been unruly in a packing screw and ran it +down on him till he mashed him to death. The cotton screw was the thing +they pressed cotton bales in. They run it down by steam now, but then, +they used to run it down with two mules. They tell a lot of things like +that on Brantley. Of course, I couldn't personally know it, but I know +he was mighty mean and I know the way he died. + + +Bushwhacking the Ku Klux + +"He belonged to the paterole gang and they went out after the Negroes +one night after freedom. The Negroes bushwhacked them and killed four or +five of them. They give it out that the men that was killed had gone to +Texas. Brantley was one of the killed ones. The pateroles was awful bad +at that time. Ku Klux they called them after the War, but they was the +same people. I never heard of the Klan part till this thing come up +that they have now. They called them Ku Klux back when I was a boy. My +stepmother carried me over to Brantley's house the night he got killed. +So I know the Texas he went to. That was in '69 or '70. He lived about a +mile from us and when he got killed, she carried me over to see him just +like we would have gone to see any other neighbor. + +"The Negroes were naturally afraid of the Ku Klux but they finally got +to the place where they were determined to break it up. They didn't have +no ropes, but they would take grapevines and tie them across the road +about breast high when a man would be on horseback. The Ku Klux would +run against these vines and be knocked off their horses into the road +and then the bushwhackers would shoot them. When Ku Klux was killed in +this manner, it was never admitted; but it was said that they had gone +to Texas. There was several of them went to Texas one night. + + +Amusements + +"There weren't many amusements in slave times. They had dances with +fiddle music. There was mighty few darkies could get out to go to dances +because the pateroles was so bad after them. I don't know of any other +amusements the slaves had. They were playing baseball when I was born. +There were boys much older than I was already playing when I was old +enough to notice, so I think they must have known about it in slave +time. They didn't play much in that way because they didn't have time. + + +Slaves who Bought Themselves + +"I have heard tell of some Negroes that was thrifty and got money enough +from side work to buy themselves. They had to go North then because they +couldn't live in the South free. I don't remember their names just now. + + +Church + +"The slaves had church. Sometimes they had church at one another's +house. I don't think they ever built them a church house. But they could +go to the white folks' church if they wanted to. + + +How Freedom Came + +"My daddy's master told my father he was free. He told him that in 1865. +He told him that he was free to do as he pleased, that he could come +when he pleased and go when he pleased. 'Course, he told him he wanted +him to stay around him--not to go off. + + +Soldiers + +"I have heard my father speak of soldiers, but they were too busy 'round +Atlanta and up that way to git down where my father was. They don't seem +to have bothered his town. They never made my father do any labor in the +army neither. My father was mixed Indian, white, and Negro. + + +Marriage + +"Slaves had to get the consent of their masters to marry. Sometimes +masters would want them to go and would even buy the woman they wanted +to keep them contented on the plantation. Sometimes the masters wouldn't +do anything but let them visit. They would marry--what they called +marriage in those days--and the husband would have to git permission +from his master to go visit his wife and git permission from her master +to come there. He would go on Saturday night and get back in time for +his work on Monday morning. It was just like raising stock and mating +it. + +"I have been married fifty-one years. I have been married twice though. +My first wife died in 1900. I have been married to my second wife +thirty-four years last April. Those were real marriages. + + +Opinions + +"I can't say much along these lines. The chance to make a living looks +so dark I can't see much of a future. Things seem to be getting worse. +Nearly everybody I talk with, white or colored, seems to think the same. +It is like Senator Glass said. 'If Congress would close up and go home +at once, times would get better.' People don't know what kind of fool +law Congress is going to make and they are not going to spend much +money. I don't think Mr. Roosevelt's pump priming will do much good +because you must keep adding to it or it will go away. + +"I don't think much of the young people. These nineteenth or twentieth +century Negroes is something fierce I'm telling you. + + +Vocational Experiences + +"I am a carpenter. I wish I wasn't. The depression has made it so that +the Negroes get very little to do. What they have they give to their +own people. They don't have much for nobody. Even if the nigger gets +something, he gets very little out of it. But the main trouble is there +isn't anything to do. + +"I have been a carpenter for fifty-four years. I have been here +fifty-one years. I have never had no trouble earning a living till now. +I can't do it now. The biggest obstacle of the success of the Negro +carpenter is that Negroes don't have the money to build with. They must +get the money from the white man. The white man, on the other hand, if +he lets out the money for the building, has the say-so on who will +do it, and he naturally picks out another white man. That keeps the +majority of Negroes out of work as far as carpentry is concerned. It +does in a time like this. When times is better, the white man does not +need to be so tight, and he can divide up." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella Anderson, colored +Caroline Stout + + +EX-SLAVES + +I was born in Alabama in slavery time. I was sold from my mother after I +was five years old and never did see her again. Was sold to a family by +the name of Mr. Games. There were six of them in family and I was the +seventh. They were very nice to me until I was about 10 years of age. +I would attend to the little kids. They were all boys. Had to sleep on +straw beds and been cooking for myself ever since I was 8 years old. +When about ten they started putting hard work on me and had to pick +cotton and do the work around the house. Was a slave for about 15 years. +After I was freed I moved to Union County and been here ever since. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Felix Street + 822 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +I was born in Dickson County, Tennessee, fifty miles north of Nashville, +in 1864. It was on December twenty-eighth. My father told me when he was +living how old I was. He told me all the way along, and I remember it. + +"Nannie, Jeff, Hardy, John Mack, and Felix (that's me) are my father's +children by his first wife. Lena, Martha, Esther are his children by his +second wife. He had five children by my mother, and four of them lived +to be grown, and one died in infancy. My mother was his first wife. Her +name was Mary Street. Her name before she married--hold a minute, lemme +see--seems like it was Mary--Mary--Street. + +"My father and my mother couldn't have lived on the same plantation +because she was a May and he was a Street. I don't know how they met. + +"My father's master's name was Jick Street. He owned, to my knowing, my +father, Bill Street; Henry Street, and Ed Street. He might have owned +more but I heard my father say he owned those. + +"My father said his white people weren't very wealthy. He and his +brother had to go and cut cordwood, both summer and winter. And they was +allowed so much work for a task. Their task was nine cords a week for +each man. That was equal to a cord and a half a day for each man each +day. My father would cut his wood like a man ought to cut it. But he +said my uncle wouldn't git at his task. He would drink whiskey all the +week. They'd get after him about bein' behind with his work, but he +would say, 'Never mind that; I won't be behind Monday morning.' On +Sunday morning at nine o'clock, he would get up and begin to cut on that +wood. And on Monday morning at nine o'clock, he would have nine cords +cut for his white folks and four or five for himself. It would all be +done before nine o'clock Monday morning. + + +Living Brother + +"I recently seen my brother Jeff Davis Street. I haven't seen him +before for sixty-one years. He blew in here from Texas with a man named +Professor Smuggers. He lives in Malakoff, Texas. It's been sixty-one +years since he was where I could see him, but he says he saw me +fifty-nine years ago. He came back home and I was 'sleep, he says, and +he didn't wake me up. He rambled around a little and stood and looked at +me awhile, he says. He was seventeen years old and I was twelve. + +"My brother had a lot of children. He had four girls with him. He had a +boy somewheres. He is older than I am. + +"I heard my father say that in time of war, they were taking up folks +that wouldn't join them and putting them in prison. They picked a white +fellow up and had him tied with a rope and carried him down to a creek +and were tying him up by his thumbs. He saw my father coming and said: +'There's a colored man I know.' My father said he knew him. They let +him go when my father said he knew him and that he didn't harbor +bushwhackers. Every time he saw my father after that he would say, +'Bill, you sure did save my life.' + +"My father and mother lived in a log cabin. They had homemade furniture. +They had a bunk up side the wall and a trundle bed. That was the cabin +they lived in in slavery time. + + +Soldiers + +"My father said once that when the men were gone, the soldiers came +in and asked the women to cook for them. They wouldn't do it; so the +soldiers made them bring them a chunk of fire. They throwed the fire on +the bed and when it got to burning good, the officer wouldn't let them +put it out. But he told them that they could get some of the boys to +help them carry out their things if the boys were willing to do it. It +was the officers who wanted the women to cook for them. It wasn't the +slaves they asked; it was the white folks. + + +Sold His Master + +"I heard my stepmother--I call her my mother--say some thing once. She +belonged to a white family named Bell. They had a lot of slaves. My +stepmother was the house girl; so she could get on to a lot of things +the others couldn't. She stayed in the house. That was in slavery times. +The speculators who were buying colored folks would put up at that +place. Looked like a town but it all belonged to one person. The name of +the place was Cloverdale, Tennessee. My stepmother said that a gang of +these folks put up at Cloverdale once and then went on to Nashville, +Tennessee. On the next day a nigger sold the speculator. He was educated +and a mulatto, and he sold his master in with a bunch of other niggers. +He was just fixin' to take the money, when his master got aware of it, +and come on up just in time. I don't know what happened to the nigger. +It was just an accident he got caught. My stepmother said it was true. + + +Good Masters + +"My mother had a good master. At least, she said he was good. Slaves +from other plantations would run away and come to her master's place to +stay. They would stay a good while. + +"My father said his master was good to him too. My father's young master +has come to see us since the War. He got down low and used to come +'round. My father would give him turns of corn. You know when you used +to go to the mill, you would carry about two bushels of corn and call it +a milling or a turn. My father would let his young master shell a bushel +or two of corn and carry it to the mill. He got poor and sure 'nough you +see. We had moved away from them then, and he got in real hard luck. He +used to come and sit a half day at a time at our house. And father would +give him the corn for his family. We were living in Dickson County, +Tennessee then. Seems like we was on Frank Hudson's place. We hadn't +bought a place for ourselves then. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"You know they used to ku klux the niggers. They went to the house after +the War of an old man named Hall. They demanded for him to let them in +but he wouldn't. They said that they would break open the door if he +didn't let them in. He didn't let them in, and they broke it down. +When they started in, his wife threw fire brands in amongst 'em and he +knicked one down with an ax. Them that wasn't hurt carried the wounded +man away and it was reported the next day that he was sick. They never +did bother the nigger no more and he never had no charges made against +him. + + +Runaway Negroes--After Freedom + +"It was over forty years ago. Me and my wife lived at a big sawmill near +Elliott, Arkansas, just ten miles outside of Camden. White folks used to +come up there and catch niggers and carry them back to Louisiana with +them, claiming that they owed debts. One time two white men came to +Elliott looking for a nigger. They came through the Negro quarters and +all the men were off that day because it was a holiday. The nigger saw +them first and ran to the woods. They ran after him and caught him. They +came back through the quarters and tied him to one of the horses and +then went on to Louisiana--them ridin' and him walkin' tied up with his +arms behind him and roped to the horse like he was some kind of cattle +or something. The niggers followed them with guns a little distance, but +one nigger telephoned to El Dorado and the officers there were on the +lookout for them. At night, the officers in plain clothes went over and +chatted with them white men. When they saw the nigger, they asked what +it was they had there. They told the one that asked that it was a damn +nigger that owed money back in Louisiana and got smart and run away +without paying up. The officers drew their guns and put handcuffs on +them and carried them and the nigger away to Jail. + +"They put everybody in jail that night. But the next morning they +brought them to trial and fined the white men a hundred and fifty +dollars apiece and after the trial they turned the nigger loose. That +broke up the stealing of niggers. Before that they would come and take a +Negro whenever they wanted to. + +"Niggers were just beginning to wake up then, and know how to slip away +and run off. We had whole families there that had run off one by one. +The man would run away and leave his children, and as they got old +enough, they would follow him one by one. + + +Right After the War + +"Right after the War, my people farmed on shares. We had a place we +leased on the Hudson place that we stayed on. We leased it for five +years but we stayed there seven or maybe eleven years. When we left +there we bought a place of our own. On the Hudson place we cleared up +about thirty acres of land and 'tended it as long as we stayed there. We +put out a lot of fruit trees on it. Had lots of peaches, and plums, and +quinces--do you know what quinces are?--and danvils (these danvil plums +you know). They are kinda purple looking fruit made in the shape of a +prune. They are about two inches through--jus' about half as big as your +fist. + +"When we moved to our own place, we stayed in the same county. It was +just about three-fourths of a mile from the Hudson place--west of it. + + +Moving to Arkansas + +"I came to Arkansas with the intention of going to school. But I jus' +messed myself up. Instead of goin' to school, I went and got married. +I was out here just one year before I got married. I married the first +time in 1887--February fourteenth, I think. My first wife taken sick +with rheumatism and she died in 1908. We were married thirty-one years. +I married again about 1913. + + +Vocational Experiences + +"When I was able to work, I worked in the railroad shops--boiler maker's +helper. Before that I farmed and did other things. Went from trackman to +machinist's helper and boilermaker's helper. + + +Opinions + +"Young folks Just need the right handlin'. + +"I don't mix in politics." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Tabon, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 67 + + +"Pa was sold twice to my knowing. He was sold to McCoy, then to +Alexander. He was Virginian. Then he was carried to Alabama and brought +to Holly Grove by the Mayos. I have wore four names, Alexander, Adams, +Morgan, and Tabon. + +"My mother's owners was Ellis from Alabama. She said she was sold from +the Scales to Ellis. Her father, sister, and two brothers was sold from +Ellis. She never seen them no more. They found Uncle Charles Ellis dead +in the field. They never knowed how it come. + +"My parents had hard times during slavery. Ma had a big scar on her +shoulder where the overseer struck her with a whoop. She was chopping +cotton. She either wasn't doing to suit him or wasn't getting along fast +enough to suit him. + +"Ma had so many little ones to raise she give me to Nancy Bennett. I +love her soul in her grave. I helped her to do all her work she taught +me. She'd leave me with her little boy and go to church and I'd make +cakes and corn bread. She brag on me. We'd have biscuits on Sunday +morning. They was a rarity. + +"One day she had company. She told me to bake some potatoes with the +jackets on. I washed the potatoes and wrapped them up in rags and boiled +them. It made her so mad she wet the towel and whooped me with it. I +unwrapped the potatoes and we had them that way for dinner. That was the +maddest she ever got at me. She learned me to cook and keep a nice house +and to sew good as anybody. I rather know how to work than be educated. + +"Mr. Ash give me a lot of scraps from his garment factory. I made them +up in quilts. He give me enough to make three dresses. I needed dresses +so bad." (One dress has sixty-six pieces in it but it didn't look like +that. They sent it to Little Tock and St. Louis for the county fairs. +Her dresses looked fairly well.) + +"I was born at Holly Grove, Arkansas. Alexander was the name my pa went +by and that was my maiden name." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Liza Moore Tanner, Helena, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in north Georgia. It was not fer from Rome. We belong to +Master Belton Moore and Miss Jane Moore. They had a big family, some +grandchildren old as their own. That was my job playing wid the +children. My parents' name Rob Moore and Pilfy Calley. She lived five +miles from Belton Moore's house. She was hired out over at Moore's the +way she and papa met up. I know now I was hired out too. I run after +them children a long time it seemed like to me. I loved them and they +cried after me. I get so tired I'd slip off and go up in the loft and +soon be asleep. I learned to climb a ladder that very way. It was nailed +up straight against the side of the wall. They'd ask me where I been. +They never did whoop me fer that. I tell 'em I been asleep. I drapped +off 'sleep. I was so tired. Papa helped with the young calves and the +feeding and in the field too. Mama was a fast hand in the field. They +called her a little guinea woman. She could outdo me when I was grown +and she was getting old. She washed fer the Calley's. All I remember +they was a old man and woman. Mama lived in the office at their house. +He let her ride a horse to Moore's to work. I rode home wid her many a +time. She rode a side saddle. I rode sideways too. She used a battling +stick long as she lived when she washed. + +"Papa died two years after the surrender in Atlanta, Georgia. The +Moore's moved there and he went along. He left mama at Master Calley's +and I was still kept at the old home place. Aunt Jilly kept me and my +two oldest sisters. Her name was Jilly Calley. I seen mama right often. +They fetched papa back to see us a few times and then he died. We all +went to Atlanta where he was buried. Mama lived to be purty nigh a +hundred years old. She had fourteen children. I had two sisters and +eight half-brothers and three half-sisters. Some died so young they +never was named. My stepfather was mean to her and beat her, caused some +of their deaths. She was a midwife in her later years. She made us a +living till I married. She was gone with Dr. Harrison a lot. He'd come +take her off and bring her home in the buggy. I married and immigrated +to Dell, Arkansas. We lived there a year and went to Memphis. Mama come +there and died at my house. She got blind. Had to lead her about. My +steppapa went off and never come back. He got drunk whenever he could +get to it. We hunted him and asked about him. I think he went off with +other women. We heard he did. + +"Freedom--I heard Miss Jane say when she was packing up to go to +Atlanta, 'I will get a nurse there. They will make her go to school.' I +thought she was talking about me. I wanted to go. I loved the children. +I got to go to school in the country a right smart. I can read and +write. Me and my two sisters all was in the same class. It seemed +strange then. We had a colored man teacher, Mr. Jacobin. It was easier +for me to learn than my sisters. They are both dead now. + +"I got three living children--one here and two in Memphis. After I got +my hip broke I live about with them so they can wait on me. + +"I don't know about this new way of living. My daughter in Memphis +raising her little girl by a book. She don't learn her as much manners +as children used to know. She got it from the white lady she works for. +It tells how to do your child. Times done changed too much to suit my +way of knowing. 'The Old Time Religion' is the only good pattern fer +raising a family. Mighty little of that now." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson +Person interviewed: Fannie Tatum, Junction City, Arkansas +Age: Born 1862 + + +"I was born on Wilmington landing in 1862 on the Ouachita River and was +carried away when I was two years old. My mother ran away and left my +sister and me when we was three and five years old. I never saw her any +more till I was eight and after I was eight years old I never saw her +again in forty years. After my mama left me old Master Neal come here to +El Dorado and had me bound to him until I was twenty-one. I stayed there +till I was twenty-one. I slept by the jamb of the fireplace on a sack of +straw and covered with saddle blankets. That was in the winter when snow +was waist high. In summer I slept on naked floor and anywhere I laid +down was my bed just like a dog. + +"I wasn't allowed to eat at the table. I et on the edge of the porch +with the dogs with my fingers. I worked around the house and washed +until I was nine and then I started to plowing. At ten I started +splitting rails. My task was two hundred rails a day. If I didn't cut +them I got a beating. I did not know what a coat was. I wore two pieces, +a lowel[HW:?] underskirt and a lowel[HW:?] dress, bachelor brogans and +sacks and rags wrapped around my legs for stockings. That was in winter. +Summer I went barefooted and wore one piece. My sun hat was a rag tied +on my head. + +"I did not know anything about Sunday School nor church. The children +would try to teach me my ABC's but master would not let them. Never +visited any colored people. If I see a colored person coming I run from +them. They said they might steal me. After I got grown they let me go +to a colored party and they whipped me for going. Tried to make me tell +whether or not a boy come home with me but I did not tell it; one come +with me though. That was the first time I got out. Of course they sent +one of the boys along with me but he would not tell on me. + +"I never slept in a bed until I was twenty-two years old. Never was with +any colored people until I was grown. My play was with white children. +My father was a white man. He was my ma's old master and they was Neals. +They kept my hair cut off like a boy's all the time. I never wore a +stocking until I was twenty-two and my hair did not grow out and get +combed until I was twenty-two. My old master and mistress would have +been mean to me but I was so smart they did not get a chance. The only +thing I was treated like a dog. + +"I live in Junction City but am here visiting my daughter." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Anthony Taylor + 2424 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 68, or 78? + + +"I was born in Clark County adjoining Hot Spring County, between Malvern +and Arkadelphia. Clark County was named after old man General Clark. He +was worth four or five thousand acres of land. + +"My father's name was Anthony McClellan. Why they called me Anthony +Taylor was my stepfather was named Taylor. My mother's name was Lettie +Sunnaville. My mother has been dead thirty or forty years and my father +died six months before I was born. He died a natural death. Sickness. He +was exposed and died of pneumonia. + +"Fayette Sunnaville was my grandfather on my mother's side. That was +my mother's father. Rachel Sunnaville was my mother's mother's name. I +don't know the names of my father's people. They was _sole_[HW:?] +in slavery. But it is been so far back; I don't remember nothing, and I +don't know whether they would or not if they was living. + +"We stayed on the old plantation for seven or eight years before we had +sense enough or knowed enough to get away from there and git something +for ourselves. That is how I come to raise such big potatoes. I been +raising them fifty years. These are hill potatoes. You have to know how +to raise potatoes to grow 'em this big. (He showed me some potatoes, +sweet, weighing about seven pounds--ed.) + +"I have heard my mother and my grandfather tell lots of stories about +slavery. I can't remember them. + +"Old man Bullocks had about eight or ten families that I knew about. +Those were the families that lived right near us in the quarters. I +didn't say eight or ten hands--I said eight or ten families. Them was +the ones that was right near us. We was awful small after freedom but +them what was with him stayed with him quite a while--stayed with the +old master. He would pay them so much after freedom come. + +"Lawd. I could tell you things about slavery. But I'm forgitful and I +can't do it all at once. He had the whole county from Arkadelphia clean +down to Princeton and Tulip--our old mars did. Lonoke was between +Princeton and Tulip. Princeton was the county-seat. He must have had a +large number of slaves. Those ten families I knew was just those close +'round us. Most of the farm was _fur_ pine country land. There +would be thirty or forty acres over here of cultivation and then thirty +or forty acres over there of woods and so on. He had more land than +anybody else but it wasn't all under cultivation. + +"He's been dead now twenty or thirty years. I don't know that he was +mean to his slaves. If he had been, they wouldn't have gone on after +freedom. They would have moved out. You see, they didn't care for +nothing but a little something to eat and a fine dress and they would +have gone on to somebody else and got that. + +"Wasn't no law then. He was the law. I worked all day long for ten cents +a day. They would allowance you so many pounds of meat, so much meal, so +much molasses. I have worked all day for ten cents and then gone out at +night to get a few potatoes. I have pulled potatoes all day for a peck +of meal and I was happy at that. I never did know what the price of +cotton was. + +"Where we was, the Ku Klux never did bother anybody. All there was, +every time we went out we had to have a pass. + +"My grandfather and grandmother were both whipped sometimes. I don't +know the man that whipped them. I don't know whether it was the agent or +the owner or who, but they were whipped. Lots of times they had work to +do and didn't do it. Naturally they whipped them for it. That was what +they whipped my grandparents for. Sometimes too, they would go off and +wouldn't let the white folks know where they was going. Sometimes they +would neglect to feed the horses or to milk the cows--something like +that. That was the only reason I ever heard of for punishing them. + +"I heard that if the boss man wanted to be with women that they had, the +women would be scared not to be with him for fear he would whip them. +And when they started whipping them for that they kept on till they got +what they wanted. They would take them 'way off and have dealings with +them. That is where so much of that yellow and half-white comes from. + +"There was some one going through telling the people that they was free +and that they was their own boss. But yet and still, there's lots of +them never did leave the man they was with and lots of them left. There +was lots of white people that wouldn't let a nigger tell their niggers +that they was free, because they wanted to keep them blind to that for +years. Kept them for three or four years anyway. Them that Bullocks +liked was crazy about him. He would give them a show--so much a month +and their keeps. I don't remember exactly how much it was but it was +neighborhood price. He was a pretty good man. Of course, you never seen +a white man that wouldn't cheat a little. + +"He'd cheat you out of a little cotton. He would have the cotton carried +to the gin. He would take half the corn and give us five or six shoats. +After he got the cotton all picked and sold, the cotton it would all go +to him for what you owed him for furnishing you. You never saw how much +cotton was ginned, nor how much he got for it, nor how much it was worth +nor nothing. They would just tell you you wasn't due nothing. They did +that to hold you for another year. You got nothing to move on so you +stay there and take what he gives you. + +"Of all the crying you ever heard, one morning we'd got up and the pigs +and hogs in the lot that we had fattened to go on that winter, he was +catching them. After we'd done fattened them with the corn that was +our share, he took 'em and sold 'em. We didn't even know we owed him +anything. We thought the crops had done settled things. Nobody told us +nothin'. All we children cried. The old man and the old woman didn't say +nothing, because they was scared. My mother would get up and go down and +milk the cows and what she'd get for the milking would maybe be a bucket +of buttermilk. + +"We'd have a spoonful of black molasses and corn bread and buttermilk +for breakfast. We got flour bread once a week. We would work hard all +the week talkin' 'bout what good biscuits we'd have Sunday morning. Sack +of flour would last two or three months because we wouldn't cook flour +bread only once a week--Saturday night or Sunday morning. + +"We had no skillet at that time. We would rake the fireplace and push +the ashes back and then you would put the cake down on the hearth or on +a piece of paper or a leaf and then pull the ashes over the cake to cook +it. Just like you roast a sweet potato. Then when it got done, you would +rake the ashes back and wash the cake and you would eat it. Sometimes +you would strike a little grit or gravel in it and break your teeth. But +then I'm tellin' you the truth about it. + +"When our hogs was taken that time, we didn't have nothing to go on that +winter. They would compel us to stay. They would allowance us some meat +and make us split rails and clear up land for it. It was a cinch if he +didn't give it to you you couldn't get nothin'. Wasn't no way to get +nothing. Then when crop time rolled 'round again they would take it all +out of your crops. Make you split rails and wood to earn your meat and +then charge it up to your crop anyhow. But you couldn't do nothin' 'bout +it. + +"Sometimes a barrel of molasses would set up in the smokehouse and turn +to sugar. You goin' hungry and molasses wastin'. They was determined not +to give you too much of it. + +"I made my way by farming. After I got to be some size, I started at it. +I farmed all my life. While I could work, things was pretty good. Wisht +I was on a farm now. Even when I'm 'round here sick, I can git these +potatoes raised with a little help from the neighbors. + +"I don't belong to church. I oughter, but I don't. Then again, I figure +that a man can be just as good out of it as he can in it. I've got good +desires, but I never confessed to the public. + +"I have had three hundred dollars worth of stuff stolen from me. +Everything I produced is stolen from me because I have no way to protect +myself. What I raise if I don't get shet of it right away, the people +get shet of it for me. I had eighty head of chickens in the barn out +there runnin' 'round. When I got sick and was in the bed and couldn't +help myself, the chickens went. In the daytime, they would fix traps and +jerk a string and pull a board down on them and then go out in the weeds +and get them. I never reported nothin' to the police. I wasn't able to +report nothing. I was just batching, and now and then people would come +in and report them to me. They would wait till they saw somebody come +in and when they saw that I was talking and wouldn't notice them, they +would steal anything they wanted. The police came by here and ran them +once. But that didn't do no good. + +"Once somebody stole an automatic shotgun. They stole a colt one time. +They stole all my clothes and pawned them to a whiskey dealer. He got +sent to the pen for selling whiskey, but I didn't get my clothes. +They come in the yard and steal my potatoes, collards, turnips, ochre +(okra?), and so on. I lay there in the bed and see them, but I can't +stop them. All I can do is to holler, 'You better go on and let them +things alone.' Ever since the last war, I haven't been able to work. I +am bare-feeted and naked now on account of not bein' able to support +myself. + +"I just come out of the hospital. I been too sick even to work in my +garden. After I come home I taken a backset[TR: ?] but I am still +staying here. I am just here on the mercies of the people. I don't +get nothing but what the people give me. I don't get no moddities nor +nothin' from the Government. + +"I ain't never been able to get no help from the Government. Long time +ago, I went down to the place and asked for help and they told me that +since I was alone, I oughta be able to help myself. They gimme a ticket +for twenty meals and told me by the time I ate them up, they might have +something else they could do for me. I told them I couldn't go back and +forth to git the meals. I have the ticket now. I couldn't git to the +place to use it none, so I keep it for a keepsake. It is 'round here +somewheres or other. I was past the pension age. I ain't been able to do +no steady work since the war. I was too old for the war--the World War." + + +Interviewer's Comment [HW: omit] + +The spelling of the name Sunnaville is phonetic. I don't recognize the +name and he couldn't spell it of course. + +When I called, he had potatoes that weighed at least seven pounds. They +were laid out on the porch for sale. He had a small patch in his yard +which he cultivated, and had gotten about ten bushels from it. + +His account of slavery times is so vivid that you would consider his age +nearer eighty than sixty-eight. A little questioning reveals that he +has no idea of his age although he readily gives it as sixty-eight--a +memorized figure. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Lula Taylor, R.F.D., east of town, + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 71 + + +"My mother was sold five times. She was sold when she was too little to +remember her mother. Her mother was Charity Linnerman. They favored. She +was dark and granny was light colored. My mother didn't love her mother +like I loved her. + +"Granny lived in a house behind the white church (?) in Helena. After +freedom we kept writing till we got in tetch with her. We finally got +granny with us on the Jefferies place at Clarendon. + +"A man (Negro) come by and conjured my mother. She was with Miss Betty +Reed (or Reid) up north of Lonoke. They was my mother's last owners. +That old man made out like she stole things when he stole them his own +black self. He'd make her hide out like she stole things. She had a +sweetheart and him and his wife. She had to live with them. They stole +her off from her last owner, Miss Betty Reed. They didn't like her +sweetheart. They was going to marry. He bought all her wedding clothes. +When she didn't marry him she let him have back all the weddin' clothes +and he buried his sister in them. This old man was a conjurer. He give +my mother a cup of some kind of herbs and made her drink it. He tole her +all her love would go to Henry Deal. He liked him. He was my papa. Her +love sure did leave her sweetheart and go to my papa. He bought her some +nice clothes. She married in the clothes he got her. She was so glad +to let go that old man and woman what conjured her 'way from her white +folks to wait on them. + +"Granny's head was all split open. I lived to see all that. White folks +said her husband done it but she said one of her old master's struck her +on the head with a shoe last. + +"My papa said he'd hit boards and stood on them all day one after +another working cold days. + +"Master Wade Deal at freedom give papa a pair of chickens, goats, sheep, +turkeys, a cow; and papa cleared ten acres of ground to pay for his +first mule. He bought the mule from Master Wade Deal. + +"Old Master Deal used to run us from behind him plowing. We tease +him, say what he'd say to the horse or mule. He'd lock us up in the +smokehouse. We'd eat dried beef and go to sleep. He was a good old man. + +"Grandpa Henry Pool went to war. Papa was sold from the Pools to the +Deals. Grandpa played with us. He'd put us all up on a horse we called +Old Bill. He said he got so used to sleeping on his blanket on the +ground in war times till he couldn't sleep on a bed. He couldn't get off +asleep. + +"Grandpa found a pitcher of gold money been buried in old Master Pool's +stable. He give it to them. They knowed it was out there. + +"Mother was with Miss Betty Reed in most of war times. Miss Betty hid +their jewelry and money. She spoke of the Yankees coming and kill pretty +chickens and drink up a churn of fresh milk turned ready for churning. +It be in the chimney corner to keep warm. They'd take fat horses and +turn their poor ones in the lot. They never could pass up a fat hog. +They cleaned out the corn crib. + +"All my kin folks was field hands. I ploughed all day long. + +"Papa said his ole mistress Deal was out under an apple tree peeling +apples to dry. A white crane flew over the tree and fluttered about over +her. Next day she died. Then the old man married a younger woman. + +"It is so about the pigeons at Pigeon Roost (Wattensaw, Arkansas). They +weighted trees down till they actually broke limbs and swayed plenty of +them. That was the richest land you ever seen in your life when it was +cleared off. Folks couldn't rest for killing pigeons and wasted them +all up. I was born at Pigeon Roost on Jim High's place. I seen a whole +washpot full of stewed pigeon. It was fine eating. It was a shame to +waste up all the pigeons and clear out the place." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Millie Taylor + 1418 Texas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"Yes'm, I was born in slavery times in Calhoun County, Mississippi. + +"Bill Armstrong was my owner. He's been dead a long time. + +"My folks stayed on there a good while. + +"Pa said they was good to him but they wasn't good to my ma. I heered pa +say they beat her till she died. I don't remember a thing 'bout my ma. + +"I heered 'em talk 'bout the Ku Klux. They kep' that in my hearin' so +much that I kep' that in my remembrance. + +"I know when we stayed on the place pa said was old master's. Yes'm, I +sure 'members dat. I know we stayed there till pa married again. + +"Bill Armstrong's wife made our clothes. I know we stayed right in the +yard with some more colored folks. + +"Pa worked on the shares and rented too. + +"I was twenty-four when I come from Mississippi here. I was married +then and had three chillun. But they all dead now. I stays here with my +grandson. I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for him. I reckon I'd +just be knockin' around--no tellin'. + +"I got another grandson lives in Marvell. I went there to visit and I +got so I couldn't walk, so my grandson carried me to the doctor. And he +just looked at me--he had been knowin' me so long. I said, 'Don't you +know me?' And he said, 'If you'd take off your hat I think I'd know +you.' And he said, 'Well, for the Lawd, if it ain't Millie Taylor!' + +"I've always done farmin'. That's the way I was raised--farmin'. I just +looks at these folks in town and it seems funny to me to buy ever'thing +you need. Looks to me like they would rather raise it. + +"Oh, Lawd, don't talk about this young race. It looks to me like they is +more heathe'nish. The Bible say they would be weaker and wiser but they +is just too wise for their own good. I just looks at 'em and I don't +know what to think about this young race. They is a few respects you and +theirselves. + +"I seen things here in town I didn't think I'd ever see. Seems like the +people in the country act like they recognize you more. + +"I has a good remembrance. Seems like I gets to studyin' 'bout it and it +just comes to me like ABC. I know pa used to talk and tell us things and +if I didn't believe it, I didn't give him no cross talk. But nowadays if +chillun don't believe what you say, they goin' try to show you a point. + +"Yes ma'am, folks is livin' a fast life--white and colored. + +"Looks like the old folks has worked long enough for the white folks +till they ought to have enough to live on." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sarah Taylor, R.F.D., Madison, Arkansas +Age: 70 + + +"I was born in Releford County, Tennessee, ten miles from Murfreesboro. +My parents belonged to Dr. Jimmy Manson. He was off and gone from home +nearly all the time. He didn't have a Negro driver. Because he didn't +they called us all Manson's free niggers. Folks didn't like it because +we had so much freedom. One day a terrible thing happened broke up our +happy way of living on Dr. Manson's place. + +"Grandpa was part Indian. Dr. Jimmy didn't whoop. He visited and he'd +get a jug of whiskey, call his niggers and give them a little, make them +feel good and get them in a humor for working. Dr. Jimmy had a nigger +overseer. They was digging a ditch and making a turnpike from Dr. +Manson's place to Murfreesboro. They told grandpa to drive down in the +ditch with his load of rock and let the white folks drive up on the +dump. They was hauling and placing rock on the dump to make a turnpike. +In Tennessee it was a law if a man owned a nigger he had to whoop him or +have him whooped. If he didn't he had to sell him. They told grandpa +if he didn't do as they said they would whoop him, then they said they +would break his back. They took the fussing to Dr. Jimmy for him to +whoop grandpa. He sold him to nigger traders and they drove him to +Mississippi. Mother never seen him no more. Grandma died of grief. She +had nine girls and no boys. After freedom seven went North and mama, +was Jane, and Aunt Betty lived on in Tennessee, and I lived some in +Mississippi. That's the reason I hate Mississippi to this very day. + +"The day they fit on Stone River in Tennessee, brother Hood was born. He +was born during the battle. I guess they moved off of Dr. Jimmy's place +at freedom, for I was born on Jack Little's place. + +"The times is passing faster than I want it to and I'm doing very well. +I don't never meddle in young folks' business and I don't 'low them +meddling in mine. Folks is the ones making times so hard. Some making +times hard for all rest of us can't help ourselves. It is sin and +selfishness makes times so hard. Young folks no worse than some not so +very old. It ain't young folks making times hard. It's older ones so +greedy. They don't have no happiness and don't want to see old ones live +nor the young ones neither." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Warren Taylor + 3200 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +My people are all from Richmond, Virginia. I was just four years old +when they come here. My father was in charge of all the machinery. He +ran the gin. Didn't do anything else. My mother was a house girl. The +kids learned her everything they learned in school. She knew everything. +My father died when I was young. My mother lived till she was eighty. +But the time she was fifty, I bought her a home and sat her down on +Pulaski Street in that home. And that is why I have so little trouble. + +"My ma belonged to Hoffman. He sold her to Wiley Adams. He carried her +to Mississippi. She stayed there for a short time and then came to +Arkansas. He settled in a little place called Tulip, Arkansas. Then +freedom came and we came to Little Rock and settled at what is now +Seventh and Ringo Streets; but then it was just a stage road leading to +Benton, Arkadelphia, and other places. Stages passed twice a day with +passengers and freight. No railroads at all then. The government kept +the roads up. They had the arsenal hall where the city park is and had +a regiment of soldiers there. The work on that road was kept up by the +soldiers. That was under Grant's administration. I never saw but +three presidents--three Democratic presidents--Cleveland, Wilson, and +Roosevelt. + +"My father's master was named Lee. He married my mother back in +Virginia. My daddy's people when he was freed was named Taylor. He died +when I was young and he never gave me any details about them. + + +Good Masters + +"The Adamses were good to my mother. And they help her even after +freedom. Charlie Adams and Mack Adams of Malvern, Arkansas. John was the +sheriff and ran a store. Mack was a drummer for the Penzl Grocery. When +my mother was ill, he used to bring her thirty dollars at a time. Every +two months she had to go down to Malvern when she was well and carry an +empty trunk and when she would come back it would be full. My mother was +wet-nurse to the Adamses and they thought the world and all of her. + + +Marriage + +"They had a good opinion of their house servants. That is how she and my +father came to belong to different families. One white man would say to +the other, 'I got a good boy. I'm going to let him come over to see your +girl.' He would be talking about a Negro man that worked around his +house and a Negro girl that worked for the other man. That would be all +right. So that's the way my father went to see my mother. He was married +in the way they always married in those days. You know how it was. There +was no marriage at all. They just went on out and got the woman and the +white man said, 'There she is. You are man and wife.' + + +Right After the War + +"My father died before freedom. My mother lived with him until her folks +moved away from his folks. Then she was separated from him and left him +in Mississippi. She belonged to one white man and he to another, and +that could happen any time. + +"Right after freedom, she stayed with these white people, doing the +house work. She had the privilege of raising things for herself. She +made a garden, and raised vegetables and such like. + +"My brother who had run off during slavery time and who later became a +preacher in the North invited us to live in the city with him. + + +Vocational Experiences + +"I wasn't fourteen years old when I was tending to flowers for the Cairo +and Fulton Railroad. That was a railroad which later became Missouri +Pacific. They beautified everything. There wasn't any bridge. They had a +boat to take you into the town of Argenta then, and when the trains came +through, the same boat would carry the cars across. An engine would be +on the other side to finish the journey with them. + +"There is one engineer living now who was active in that time, Charlie +Seymour, retired, of Little Rock. He used to run the first train over +the Baring Cross Bridge, and then he ran the first engine over the new +bridge here. He had already been retired when they finished the new +bridge, but they had him pull the first train over the new bridge +because he had pulled the first one over the old bridge. They wanted to +give him that honor. + +"My manager in that time was Superintendent A.E. Buchanan. + +"From this work, I was advanced to the office and stayed there twenty +years. I served under Commissioner Thomas Essex and later under +Commissioner J.A. Dean. This service included twenty years in various +departments. + +"After that I billed freight for the Missouri Pacific at the Baring +Cross Storerooms under Mr. H.S. Turner for eight months or more. Then I +was transferred, because the location was not good for my health, to De +Soto, Missouri, forty-five miles this side of St. Louis. Sedentary work +had proved bad for me and I needed more active work. I waited on the +master mechanic there. After that I came back to Little Rock and worked +for the Pacific Express Company under Mr. G.F. Johnson, superintendent. +After that, I worked for the Quapaw Club[HW?] during its heyday when +Johnie Boyle, Hollenberg, Acie Bragg, Will Mitchell, Mr. Cottman, +Captain Shaw, and oodles of others were members. Mr. Moorehead White was +secretary. After that I went to doing my own work. + +"Now I am past my prime and I do the best I can with what little help I +get from the government. I get eight dollars a month and commodities. +Mr. Roosevelt has got guts. Mighty few men would attempt to do what he +has done. He is the greatest humanitarian president the country has ever +had. + +"But I've got a pile of recommendations. I've got recommendations from + + Thomas Essex, Land Commissioner, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, + and Southern Railway + + W.S. Thomas, Geologist, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, Southern + + J.H. Harvey, General Foreman of Bridges and Building + + G.A.A. Deane, Land Commissioner succeeding Essex, St. Louis, + Iron Mountain, and Southern + + S.W. Moore, General Secretary, Railway Y.M.C.A. + + Arthur B. Washburn, Superintendent, Arkansas Deaf Mute Institute + + A.C. St. Clair, Manager of the College of Physicians and Surgeons + + (Note comment) [TR: No additional comment found.] + +You can read these for yourself, and you see what they say. They can't +get me work now, but it's great to know you did good work and be able to +prove it. + +"The same commodities they give now were given in 1870. They had what +they called the Freedman's Bureau. They used to have what they called +the LICK SKILLET on Spring Street from Fifth to Seventh. Leastwise, the +colored people called it that. Bush and a lots of other big niggers used +to go there and get free lodgings until they were able to get along +alone without help. The niggers they call BIG NIGGERS now stayed in +wagon yards when they first come here. + + +Former Morals + +"There was a time when a low-down person, colored or white, couldn't +stay in the community. They would give him a ticket and send him to +Memphis or somewhere else. + +"Reuben White built the First Baptist Church. In those days, people were +Christian. White baptized one hundred fifty people twice a month. You +didn't have to put a lock on your door then. + + +Bachelor + +"I haven't been married; marriage holds a man back. A woman won't do as +she is told. + + +Successful Negroes in Little Rock + +"They had three Negro aldermen in this city: one of them was Green +Thompson; but the Negroes butchered him. He was murdered as he came in +from a festival. M.W. Gibbs, Land Office Man for the Government, was the +only nigger here who wasn't bothered by no one--by no colored person. +Dr. Smith was the leading colored dentist once, and the leading dentist +of the city in his day. Almost all the white people went to him. Colored +people had the barber shops. McNair had a barber shop on Main between +Second and Third. His boy killed him--no good reason. His boy went to +school with us; he was always stubborn and mean. + +"Henry Powell was jailer here once. Sam Wilkins, a man that weighed +about three hundred pounds, was the turnkey at the penitentiary. He +lived in one of the finest houses in the town at that time. Nigger bands +had all the music then. I have seen white organizations like the Odd +Fellows and Masons follow Negro bands. Nigger orchestras played here +all the big to-dos among white people. White people used to get nigger +dancers to come here to dance and show them so that they could learn the +late steps. + +"Colored caterers had the big jobs. Henry Miller was one of them. He's +going pretty strong still. You get some smart niggers 'round the Marion +Hotel right now. We used to have some smart cooks. But they did too much +peddling out of the back door. Dishonesty put them back. White people +have taken all that work now. The nigger ruined himself in this town. +They are paying white men now for what they know. They used to pay +niggers for what they knowed. + + +Opinions + +"If the government would give you a job today, niggers would be up to +take you out of it tomorrow. Niggers are dirty, and these 'round here +are ignorant. + +"The parents don't teach the children, and the children can't amount +too anything. If children are not taught to work, they will never have +nothing. A bunch of these young people don't mean to work. They just lay +'round waiting for the old people to die so they can get what little the +old folks accumulated and run through it. But a man never keeps what he +himself doesn't earn. He can't. + +"The children are raised now without manners. When I have to go past +Capitol Hill School, I have to get off the sidewalk. Ain't nothin' but +these graduates teachin' now, young graduates that don't know nothin' +but runnin' about. When I come along, the carpetbaggers were teaching +and they knew their business. Mrs. Stephens went to Fisk and finished +there. Mrs. Spight graduated from Union High School. We had all white +teachers at first. Miss Sarah Henley used to teach with old ex-slaves +where the Bethel A.M.E. Church is now. There wasn't no church there +then--just a little shanty. I was just five years old. My mother used +to take me there and leave me, but she taught me herself at home. She +taught me just like I see you teach your kids. + +"Boys don't do nothing but play now. They had to hustle then. They can't +do nothing now. They have this departmental system now. They didn't have +it then. The different temperaments ruin children. They used to review, +now they don't. They change text-books so fast the old ones can't be +sold." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Warren Taylor holds recommendations from a number of prominent people +referring to his excellent character, high morals, unusual intelligence, +wide information, industry, thrift, honesty, and trustworthiness. Some +of the names occur in the interview. The letters and documents proving +his long service and good record were brought out during the interview +and given to me to read. + +He has an unusual memory and penetrating insight into conditions. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sneed Teague + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 68 +Occupation: Works on railroad + + +"My owners was Miss Betsy and Master Teague. Miss Betsy had a sister +lived with them. Her name was Miss Polly. They was French folks from the +old country. + +"My ma had belong to the Cox before the Teagues owned her. The Teagues +had three families of servants. + +"I remember them--yes mam--they was very saving people. They made +everything that they used. The shettle, the carding machine, the +spinning wheel and all, they made em. They had a carding machine +different to anybodys in the country. It worked by a foot treadle. +Another thing wasn't like nobody elses in the whole country was the bed. +It had four tall post. The head board a little higher than the one at +the foot but instead of using slats across from the railings it was +mortised together and hemp ropes wove bout a inch apart. It was strong +and didn't seem to give (stretch) much. + +"They raised sheep and they wove and spun wool altogether. They didn't +fool with cotton. Never did, not even down to my time. That carding +machine I'm telling bout turned out rolls of wool. It was right pretty. +They made all kinds of wool things and sold them. The old man had three +or four boys. Mr. Jim Teague run a wood and blacksmith shop. He sold +plows, wagons, hoes. They made spoons, knives, and forks out of sheets +of some kind of metal. Everything they used they made it and they sold +mighty near every thing folks wanted. The servants stayed on after the +war. My ma stayed till she died. My family had a little dispute when I +was twelve years old and I left. Ma died and I never went back. I +come to Forrest City and got work. I been farmin' and working on the +railroad. I have done track work. I got 10 acres land and a house. I +don't need on the relief. If I need it I would want it. The reason I +ain't got a garden and cow is I work out and not there to see after it. + +"Some times I vote. You make enemies cause they all want you to vote +for them and I can't do that. I don't care nothin' bout votin'. I don't +enquire no more bout politics. + +"The fellow what raises things to sell is better off with prices high +but if he is working for money, times is hard for him. Cause the money +is hard to get and hard to keep now. The young folks morals ain't like +young folks used to have. Seemed like young folks too smart to be +trained in morals like they was when I was comin' up." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Teel + Holly Grove, Ark. +Age: 74 + + +"Our Masters was Wade and Curls. Miss Fannie was Master Wade's wife. +They was kin somehow. I heard Ma say they wouldn't let their boys work. +We girls growd up together. They called Ma 'Cousin'. + +"Ma say she come from Marshal County Tennessee to Holly Springs +Mississippi. She never did see her pa. My papa's papa was _a white +man_. My pa was Lewis Brittman. He was a carriage driver. He made and +mended shoes. My Ma was a fine cook. She had nine children but jes three +living now. One of the girls--Miss Fannie's girls--married bout when +I did. We jes growd up lack that. I left the girls at Mt. Pleasant, +Mississippi. I stayed on their place a while. I wish I had money to go +back to my old home and see all 'em livin'. I never heard 'em say if +they give 'em somepin. Pa lernt us to do all kinds of work. He knowd how +to do nearly everything cause he was brought up by white folks. Measles +broke out, then small pox and the white folks put us in a room all +together at the white house so we could be seen after. We lay on the +same beds. My brother would whistle. I was real little but I member it +well as yesterday. Ma say stop whistlin' in that bed and Miss Fannie say +let him whistle I want to hear him cause I know he better. They say it +bad luck to sing in bed or look in the lookin'-glass (mirror) if you in +the bed. We all got over it. + +"Pa made us go clean. He made me comb and wrop my hair every night. I +had prutty hair then. I had tetter and it all come out. I has to wear +this old wig now. When I was young my eye-sight got bad, they said +measles settled in em and to help em Ma had these holes put in em (in +her ears). I been wearin' earbobs purt nigh all my life. + +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They never come nigh our house no time. +Pa died and Ma married a old man. They stayed in the same place a while. +When Pa died he had cattle and stock that why I don't know if he got +somepin at Freedom. He had plenty. + +"We lived at Holly Springs (Miss.) when they started the first colored +schools. There was three lady teachers. I think a man. One of the white +teachers boarded at my Ma's. On Saturday the other two eat there. I +recollect Ma cooking and fixing a big dinner Saturday. No white folks +let em stay with em or speak to em. They was sent from up north to teach +the darky chaps. I was one went to school. They wasn't nice like my +white folks then neither. They paid high board and white folks sent em +to Ma so she get the money. I was 14 years old when I married. I lived +wid my husband more an 50 years. We got long what I'ze tellin' you. This +young set ain't got no raisin' reason they cain't stand one nother. I +don't let em come in my yard. I cain't raise no children, I'm too old +and they ain't got no manners and the big ones got no sense. Jes wild. +They way they do. They live together a while and quit. Both them soon +livin' wid somebody else. That what churches fer, to marry in. Heap of +em ain't doin' it. No children don't come here tearin' up what I work +and have. I don't let em come in that gate, I have to work so hard in my +old days. I picked cotton. I can, by pickin' hard, make a dollar a day. +I cooked ten years fore I stopped, I cain't hold up at it. I washed and +ironed till the washing machines ruined that work fer all of us black +folks. Silk finery and washin' machines ruint the black folks. + +"Ma named Elsie Langston and Lewis Langston. They took that name somehow +after the old war (Civil War), I recken it was her old master's name. + +"After I was married and had children I was hard up. I went to a widow +woman had a farm but no men folks. She say, 'If you live here and leave +your little children in my yard and take my big boys and learn em to +work, I will cook. On Saturday you wash and iron.' She took me in that +way when my color wouldn't help me. I stayed there--between Memphis and +Holly Springs. + +"I live hard the way I live. I pick cotton when I can't go hardly. They +did give me a little commodity but I lose half day work if I go up there +and wait round. Don't know what they give me. I don't get a cent of the +penshun." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Wade Thermon, + R.F.D. (PWA Reservation), Des Arc, Arkansas +Age: 67 + + +"I was born in Boswell, Oklahoma. My mother and father was both slaves +some wha in the eastern states. Soon as freedom was declared they kept +going till I was born. They finally come back and farmed round Pine +Bluff. My folks last time I heard from them was at Garland City. There's +wha my mother died. I had three brothers and one sister, but one brother +died long time ago. Oklahoma was pore farmin'. The family could do +pretty good farmin' in Arkansas. I come here from Pine Bluff. I got a +wife, two girls and a little grandchild. When I first come to dis county +I done public work--piece work. I handled cotton and cross ties. I used +to help load and unload the boats and I worked helpin' build railroads. +Then I had to farm about a little fur a living. I worked on Victor +Gates place six years. Then I worked on the widow Thomas place till the +Government bought it. Then the last eighteen months I got work wid the +PWA on the rezer/va/tion. They turned me off now and I ain't got no +place to work. + +"I voted the Republican ticket the last time. I don't know nothing 'bout +stricted sufage. I voted in Oklahoma some and here some. No I sho don't +think the women needs to vote. They won't let us vote in the Primary. No +I wouldn't know who would suit in dem high offices. I reckon it is all +right. We is in you might say a foreign country. What I blames 'em fur +is not puttin' us in a country all to our selves and den let us run it +all to our selves. It is gettin' us all mixed up here every year worse +and worse. + +"I don't know nuthin' 'bout the Civil War. That was before I was born. I +heard my folks talk some 'bout it, been so long I forgot what they did +say. My folks owned a place in Oklahoma, at least I recken they did. I +never did own no home nor no land. Well, missus, cause I never could get +but berry little ahead ever and it takes all I makes to live on and I +ain't got nuthin' to go on now. + +"Times is changin' so much I don't know whut goin' to happen to the next +generation. Prices is mighty high now the reason you have to spend every +cent you makes fore you get paid off. Dats the reason I don't like the +PWA work I done. It cuts you off without a thing to go on. I likes farm +work whole heap the best." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Mrs. Dicey Thomas + 2500 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 82 + + +"I was born in Barbour County, Alabama. When I was born, the white folks +kept the children's age, not that of their parents. When the Yankees +came through our white folks' plantation, the white folks was hiding +away things. + + +Father + +"My father was named Ben See. See was my maiden name. Thomas comes from +my marriage. + + +Yankees + +"It was about twelve o'clock when the Yankees came through, because we +had just gone to bring the bowls. They used to serve us out of these +gourds and wooden spoons. Me and another little girl had gone to get +some bowls and spoons and when we got back the Yankees were swarming +over the place. They said, 'You are free. Go where you please.' + +"My mother had a little baby. The old women would tend to this baby and +we would sit and rock the cradle till mother would come. I know I wasn't +very old, because I didn't do anything but sit and rock the baby. I had +just gotten big enough to carry the bowls. + +"When the Yankees came through they stole Ben See's horse and brought +him out here in Arkansas. In those days, they used to brand horses. + +Some woman out here in Arkansas recognized the horse by his brand and +wrote to him about it. He came out and got the horse. We had gone by +that time. + + +Visiting the Graves + +"Ben See used to take the little darkies to the cemetery and show them +where their master and missis was laying. He never would sell none of +his father's slaves. + + +The Slave Block + +"He would buy other slaves and sell them though. He used to buy little +kids that couldn't walk. Maybe some big white man would come that would +want to buy a nigger. He used to have servants in the yard and he would +have the slaves he'd bought saved up. One of the yard servants would +catch a little nigger with his head all knotty and filled with twigs. He +would swinge the hair and the little nigger would yell, but he wouldn't +be hurt. + +"He had a block built up high just like a meat block out in the yard. +He would have the yard man bring the little niggers out and put them on +this block. I don't know nothing about their parents, who they were nor +where they were. All I know he would have this child there what he'd +done bought. + +"If there would be about five or six come in, here's this nigger sitting +up here. Here's a lot of folks waitin' to buy him. One would say, 'I bid +so much.' Another would say, 'I bid so much.' That would go on till the +biddin' got as high as it would go. Then the little nigger would go to +the highest bidder if the bid suited master. + +"My mother and father didn't know their age. The white folks kept the +ages, and that was something they didn't allow the slaves to handle. I +must have been four or five years old when my mother was in the field, +because I wasn't allowed to take the baby out of the cradle but just to +sit and rock it. + + +Arkansas + +"When I come to Arkansas, stages was running from Little Rock down +toward Pine Bluff. Jesse James robbed the Pine Bluff train. That about +the first train came in. They cut down the trees across the train track. +They had a wooden gun and they went in there and robbed that train with +it. They sent him to the pen and he learned a trade making cigars. + +"The Union Station was just like that hillside. It was just one street +in the town. I don't know what year nor nothing about it because when I +came here it was just like somebody didn't have any sense. + + +Plantation + +"The slave quarter was a row of houses. The plantation was high land. +The houses were little log houses with one room. They had fire arches. +They would hang pots over the fire. They would have spiders that you +call ovens. You would put coals on top of the spider and you would put +them under it and you could smell that stuff cooking! The door was in +the top of the spider and the coals would be on top of the door. + +"You couldn't cook nothin' then without somebody knowin' it. Couldn't +cook and eat in the back while folk sit in the front without them +knowin' it. They used to steal from the old master and cook it and they +would be burning rags or something to keep the white folks from smelling +it. + +The riding boss would come round about nine o'clock to see if you had +gone to bed or not. If they could steal a chicken or pig and kill and +cut it up, this one would take a piece and that one would take a piece +and they would burn the cotton to keep down the scent. The rider would +come round in June and July too when they thought the people would be +hunting the watermelons. + +"When the soldiers came, the niggers run and hid under the beds and the +soldiers came and poked their bayonets under the bed and shouted, 'Come +on out from under there. You're free!' + + +Destructiveness of Soldiers + +"The soldiers would tear down the beehives and break up the smoke +houses. They wasn't tryin' to git nothin' to eat. They was just +destroying things for devilment. They pulled all the stoppers out of the +molasses. They cut the smoked meat down and let it fall in the molasses. + + +Rations + +"Every Saturday, they would give my father and his wife half a gallon of +molasses, so much side meat. And then they would give half a bushel of +meal I reckon. Whatever they would give they would give 'em right out of +the smoke house. Sweet potatoes they would give. Sugar and coffee they'd +make. There wasn't nothing 'bout buying no sugar then. + + +How the Day Went + +"The riding boss would come round before the day broke and wake you up. +You had to be in the field before sun-up--that is the man would. The +woman who had a little child had a little more play than the man, +because she had to care for the child before she left. She had to carry +the child over to the old lady that took care of the babies. The cook +that cooked up to the big house, she cooked bread and milk and sent it +to the larger children for their dinner. They didn't feed the little +children because their mothers had to nurse them. The mother went to the +field as soon as she cared for her child. She would come back and nurse +the child around about twice. She would come once in the morning about +ten o'clock and once again at twelve o'clock before she ate her own +lunch. She and her husband ate their dinner in the field. She would come +back again about three p.m. Then you wouldn't see her any more till dark +that night. Long as you could see you had to stay in the field. They +didn't come home till sundown. + +"Then the mother would go and get the children and bring them home. She +would cook for supper and feed them. She'd have to go somewheres and get +them. Maybe the children would be asleep before she would get all that +done. Then she would have to wake them up and feed them. + +"I remember one time my sister and me were laying near the fire asleep +and my sister kicked the pot over and burned me from my knee to my foot. +My old master didn't have no wife, so he had me carried up to the house +and treated by the old woman who kept the house for him. She was a +slave. When I got so I could hobble around a little, he would sometimes +let the little niggers come up to the house and I would get these big +peanuts and break them up and throw them out to them so he could have +fun seeing them scramble for them. + +"After the children had been fed, the mother would cook the next day's +breakfast and she would cook the next day's dinner and put it in the +pail so that everything would be ready when the riding boss would come +around. Cause when he came, it meant move. + + +The Old Lady at the Big House + +"The old lady at the big house took care of the gourds and bowls. The +parents didn't have nothing to do with them. She fed the children that +was weaned. Mother and daddy didn't have nothing to do with that at +noontime because they was in the field. White folks fed them corn bread +and milk. Up to the big house besides that, she didn't have anything to +do except take care of things around the house, keep the white man's +things clean and do his cooking. + +"She never carried the gourds and bowls herself. She just fixed them. +The yard man brought them down to the quarters and we would take them +back. She wash them and scrape them till they was white and thin as +paper. They was always clean. + +"She wasn't related to me. I couldn't call her name to save my life. + + +Relatives + +"We come from Barbour, Alabama with a trainful of people that were +immigrating. We just chartered a train and came, we had so many. Of all +the old people that came here in that time, my aunt is the oldest. You +will find her out on Twenty-fourth Street and Pulaski. She has been my +aunt ever since I can remember. She must be nearly a hundred or more. + + +Patrollers + +"When we had the patrollers it was just like the white man would have +another white man working for him. It was to see that the Negroes went +to bed on time and didn't steal nothing. But my master and missis never +allowed anybody to whip their slaves. + + +What the Slaves Expected and Got + +"I don't know what the slaves was expecting to get, but my parents when +they left Ben See's place had nothing but the few clothes in the house. +They didn't give em nothing. They had some clothes all right, enough to +cover themselves. I don't know what kind or how much because I wasn't +old enough to know all into such details. + +"When we left Ben See's plantation and went down into Alabama, we left +there on a wagon. Daddy was driving four big steers hitched to it. There +was just three of us children. The little boy my mother was schooling +then, it died. It died when we went down betwixt New Falls and +Montgomery, Alabama. I don't know when we left Alabama nor how long we +stayed there. After he was told he was free, I know he didn't make nare +another crop on Ben See's plantation. + + +1865-1938 + +"My father, when he left from where we was freed, he went to hauling +logs for a sawmill, and then he farmed. He done that for years, driving +these old oxen. He mostly did this logging and my mother did the +farming. + +"I can't tell you what kind of time it was right after the Civil War +because I was too young to notice. All our lives I had plenty to eat. +When we first came to Arkansas we stopped at old Mary Jones down in +Riceville, and then we went down on the Gates Farm at Biscoe. Then we +went from there to Atkins up in Pope County. No, he went up in the sand +hills and bought him a home and then he went up into Atkins. Of course, +I was a married woman by that time. + +"I married the second year I came to Arkansas, about sixty-two or +sixty-three years ago. I have lived in Little Rock about thirty-two or +thirty-three years. When I first came here, I came right up here on +Seventeenth and State streets. + + +Voting + +"I never voted. For twenty years the old white lady I stayed with looked +after my taxes. None of my friends ever voted. I ain't got nothing but +some children and they ain't never been crazy enough to go to anybody's +polls. + + +Family + +"I have two brothers dead and a sister. My mother is dead. I am not sure +whether or not my father is dead. The Ku Klux scared him out of Atkins, +and he went up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I ain't never heard of him since. +I don't know whether he is dead or not. + +"I have raised five children of my own. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"These Ku Klux, they had not long ago used to go and whip folks that +wasn't doing right. That was mongst the white people and the colored. +Comer that used to have this furniture store on Main Street, he used to +be the head of it, they say. + +"I used to work for an old white man who told me how they done. They +would walk along the street with their disguises hidden under their +arms. Then when they got to the meeting place, they would put their +disguises on and go out and do their devilment. Then when they were +through, they would take the disguise off again and go on back about +their business, Old man Wolf, he used to tell me about it. + + +Occupation + +"I nursed for every prominent doctor in Little Rock,--Dr. Judd, Dr. +Flynch, Dr. Flynn, Dr. Fly, Dr. Morgan Smith, and a number of others." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mandy Thomas, 13th and Pearl Streets, +Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 +Occupation: Laundress + + +"I know my sister told me I was five when my mama was freed. I was born +down below El Dorado. Andrew Jaggers was my mother's old master. + +"I just remember the soldiers goin' past. I think they was Yankees. They +never stopped as I knows of. + +"I've seed my young missis whip my mother. + +"My papa belonged to the Agees. After I got up good sized, they told me +'bout my papa. He went with his white folks to Texas and we never did +see him after we got up good size. So mama took a drove of us and went +to work for some more white folks. + +"I was good and grown when I married and I been workin' hard ever since. +I was out pickin' huckleberries tryin' to get some money to buy baby +clothes when my first girl was born. Yes ma'am." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas + 519 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 70 +Occupation: Making cotton and corn + + +"I was born in Louisiana--in Vidalia. My mother's name was Emma Grant. +My father's name was George Grant. My mother's name before she married +was Emma Woodbridge. I don't know the names of my grand folks. I heard +my mother say that my grandmother was named Matilda Woodbridge. I never +got to see her. That is what I heard my mother say. + +"I don't know the names of my mother's master, and I don't know the +names of my father's white folks. + +"My father was George Grant. He served in the War. I think they said +that he was with them when Vicksburg surrendered. My father has said +that he was really named George LaGrande. But after he enlisted in the +War, he went by the name of George Grant. There was one of the officers +by that name, and he took it too. He was shot in the hip during the War. +When he died, he still was having trouble with that wound. He was on the +Union side. He was fighting for our freedom. He wasn't no Reb. He'd tell +us a many a day, 'I am part of the cause that you are free.' I don't +know where he was when he enlisted. He said he was sold out from +Louisville--him and his brother. + +"I never did hear him say that he was whipped or treated bad when he was +a slave. I've heard him tell how he had to stand up on dead people to +shoot when he was in the War. + +"My brother started twice to get my father's pension, but he never was +able to do anything about it. They made away with the papers somehow +and we never did get nothin'. My father married a second time before he +died. When he died, my stepmother tried to get the pension. They writ +back and asked her if he had any kin, and she answered them and said no. +She hid the papers and wouldn't let us have 'em--took and locked 'em +up somewheres where we couldn't find 'em. She was so mean that if she +couldn't get no pension, she didn't want nobody else to get none. + +"I don't know just when I was born, nor how old I am. When I come to +remember anything, I was free. But I don't know how old I am, nor when +it was. + +"I heard my father speak of pateroles. Just said that they'd ketch you. +He used to scare us by telling us that the pateroles would ketch us. We +thought that was something dreadful. + +"I never heard nothin' about jayhawkers. I heard something about Ku Klux +but I don't know what it was. + +"My father married my mother just after the War. + +"I been married twice. My first husband got killed on the levee. And the +second is down in the country somewheres. We are separated. + +"I don't get no help from the Welfare, wish I did. I ain't had no money +to get to the doctor with my eyes." + + +Interviewer's Comments + +The old lady sat with her eyes nearly closed while I questioned her and +listened to her story. Those eyes ran and looked as though they needed +attention badly. The interview was conducted entirely on the porch as +that of Annie Parks. Traffic interrupted; friends interrupted; and a +daughter interrupted from time to time. But this daughter, while a +little suspicious, was in no degree hostile. The two of them referred +me to J.T. Tims, who, they said, knew a lot about slavery. His story is +given along with this one. + +I got the impression that the old lady was born before the War, but +I accepted her statement and put her down as born since the War and +guessed her age as near seventy. She was evidently quite reserved about +some details. Her father's marriage to her mother after the War would +not necessarily mean that he was not married to her slave fashion before +the War. She didn't care so much about giving any story, but she was +polite and obliging after she had satisfied herself as to my identity +and work. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas + 1014 W. Fifth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 63 + + +"I was born in Marianna, Lee County, in Arkansas. I wasn't born right in +the town but out a piece from the town in the old Bouden place, in 1875. +My father kept a record of all births and deaths in his Bible. He never +forgot whenever a new baby would come to get down his glasses and +pen and ink and Bible. My daddy learned to read and write after the +emancipation. + +"My father's name was Frank Johnson and my mother's name was Henrietta +Johnson. I don't know the given names of my father's and mother's +parents. I do know my mother's mother's name. Lucinda, and my father's +mother was named Stephens. I don't know their given names. My mother's +master was a Trotter. + +"My father was a free man. He hired his own time. He told me that +his father hired his own time and he would go off and work. He made +washpots. He would go off and work and bring back money and things. His +mother was free too. When war was declared, he volunteered to go. He +was with the Yankees. My father worked just like my grandfather did. +Whenever he had a job to do. He never had a lick from anybody, carried +his gun strapped down on his side all the time and never went without +it. + +"After the War, he worked on a steamboat. They used to kick the +roustabouts about and run them around but they never laid the weight of +their hands on him. + +"They wouldn't allow him to go to school in slavery time. After the War, +he got a Blue Back Speller and would make a bowl of fire and at night +he would study--sometimes until daybreak. Then he found an old man that +would help him and he studied under him for a while. He never went to +any regular school, but he went to night school a little. Most of what +he got, he got himself. + +"He was born in Louisville, Kentucky. I don't know how he happened to +meet my mother. During the time after the War, he went to running on the +boat from New Orleans to Friar Point, Mississippi. Then he would come +over to Helena. In going 'round, he met my mother near Marianna and +married her. + +"Mother never had much to say, and the other girls would have a big time +talking. He noticed that she was sewing with ravelings and he said, +'Lady, next time I come I'll bring you a spool of thread if you don't +mind.' He brought the thread and she didn't mind, and from then on, they +went to courting. Finally they married. They married very shortly after +the War. + +"My mother was a motherless girl. My daddy said he looked at her +struggling along. All the other girls were trying to have a good time. +But she would be settin' down trying to make a quilt or something else +useful, and he said to a friend of his, 'That woman would make a good +wife; I am going to marry her.' And he did. + +"She used to spin her fine and coarse sewing thread and yarn to make +socks and stockings with. Her stockings and socks for the babies and +papa would always be yarn. She could do pretty work. She had a large +family. She had seventeen children and she kept them all in things she +made herself. She raised ten of them. She would make the thread and yarn +and the socks and stockings for all of these. I have known the time when +she used to make coats and pants for my father and brothers. She would +make them by hand because they didn't have any machines then. Of course, +she made all the underwear. She put up preserves and jellies for us to +eat in the winter. She used to put up kraut and stuff by the barrel. I +have seen some happy days when I was with my daddy and mother. He raised +pigs and hogs and chickens and cows. He raised all kinds of peas and +vegetables. He raised those things chiefly for the home, and he made +cotton for money. He would save about eight or ten bales and put them +under his shed for stockings and clothes and everything. He would have +another cotton selling in March. + +"When my father was in the army, he would sometimes be out in the +weather, he told us, and he and the other soldiers would wrap up in +their blankets and sleep right in the snow itself. + +"I farmed all my life until 1897. I farmed all my life till then. I was +at home. I married in 1895. My first husband and I made three crops and +then he stopped and went to public work. After that I never farmed any +more but went to cooking and doing laundry work. I came from Clarendon +here in 1901. + +"I never had any experiences with the Yankees. My mother used to tell +how they took all the old master's stuff--mules and sugar--and then +throwed it out and rode their horses through it when they didn't want it +for theirselves. + +"I married a second time. I have been single now for the last three +years. My husband died on the twentieth of August three years ago. I +ain't got no business here at all. I ought to be at my home living well. +But I work for what I get and I'm proud of it. + +"A working woman has many things to contend with. That girl downstairs +keeps a gang of men coming and going, and sometimes some of them +sometimes try to come up here. Sunday night when I come home from +church, one was standing in the dark by my door waiting for me. I had +this stick in my hand and I ordered him down. He saw I meant business; +so he went on down. Some of them are determined. + +"There's no hope for tomorrow so far as these young folks are concerned. +And the majority of the old people are almost worse than the young ones. +Used to be that all the old people were mothers and fathers but now they +are all going together. Everything is in a critical condition. There is +not much truth in the land. All human affection is gone. There is mighty +little respect. The way some people carry on is pitiful." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The men who bother Omelia Thomas probably take her for a young woman. +She hasn't a gray hair in her head, and her skin is smooth and must be +well kept. She looks at least twenty-five years younger than she is, and +but for the accident of her presence at another interview, I would never +have dreamed that she had a story to tell. + +I went to see her in the quarters where she lives--over the garage in +the back yard of the white people she works for. When I got halfway +up the stairs, she shouted, "You can't come up here." I paused in +perplexity for a moment, and she stuck her head out the door and looked. +Then she said, "Oh, I beg pardon; I thought you were one of those men +that visit downstairs." I had noticed the young lady below as I entered. +She is evidently a hot number, and as troublesome as a sore thumb to the +good old lady above her. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Tanner Thomas + 1213 Louisiana, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born down here at Rob Roy on the river on the Emory place. My +mother's name was Dinah Thomas and my father's name was Greene Thomas. +He taken sick and died in the War on the North side. That's what my +mother told me. I was born under Mars Jordan Emory's administration. + +"I 'member somebody brought me here to Pine Bluff to Lawyer Bell's +house. I stayed two or three months, then Mars Jordan sent for me and +carried me back out to Rob Roy and I stayed with my mother. She had done +married again but I stayed with her all the time till I got grown and I +married. + +"I come here in 1892 and I been here ever since--forty-six years. Oh, +whole lots of these white folks know me. + +"I worked at the Standard Lumber Company and Bluff City Lumber Company +and Dilley's Foundry. Then I went to the oil mill. I was the order man. +I was the best lumber grader on the place. + +"Course I knows lots of white folks and they knows me too, I done a heap +of work 'round here in different places in forty-six years. + +"I went to school a little but I didn't learn nothin'. + +"My mother said they come and pressed my daddy in the War. 'Course I +don't know nothin' 'bout that but my mother told me. + +"Now, what is this you're gettin' up? Well, I was born in slavery times. +You know I was when my daddy was in the War. + +"Oh Lord yes, I voted. I voted Republican. I didn't know whether it +would do any good or not but I just voted 'cause I had a chance. My +name's been in Washington for years 'cause I voted, you know. + +"My way is dark to the younger generation now. I don't have much dealin' +with them. They are more wiser. Education has done spread all over the +country. + +"God intended for every man in the world to have a living and to live +for each other but too many of 'em livin' for themselves. But everything +goin' to work out right after awhile. God's goin' to change this thing +up after awhile. You can't rush him. He can handle these people. After +he gets through, with this generation, I think he's goin' to make a +generation that will serve him." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Wester Thomas, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in Sumpter County (Mississippi?). My mother was sold to +Dr. and Miss Kate Hadley. My mother's name was Lettie Williams and she +married Wesley Thomas. My name is Wester Thomas. I'm seventy-nine years +old. Mistress Kate raised me. Dr. Hadley had more than a hundred slaves. + +"I can tell you about freedom. Two men in uniforms come and told master. +He had the farm bell rung. They told them the Civil War was over. They +was free. The niggers went back to their quarters. Some moved later. My +folks never left. Dr. Hadley died. Mistress Kate took all that wanted to +go to Louisiana then. We cleared up land down there. Later I farmed." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Annie Thompson, Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: 55? + + +"I was raised by my father's sister and my grandmother. Later on I come +to my daddy here and my stepmother had other children. I soon married. +I've had a hard time. + +"My grandparents was Harriett Edwards and William Snow. Grandmother said +they were nice to her. She was Master Edwards' house girl. She cooked +and was a spinner. When I was a girl she had her spinning-wheel and +she taught me to spin and knit. She spun thread for caps, mittens, +stockings, socks, suspenders, and coats. We knit all those things when +I was a girl. Grandmother said the white folks never whooped her. +Grandmother was her old master's own girl and she nursed with one of his +white wife's children. She was real light. + +"My father's mother was a squaw. I don't know her name. She was sold +from grandpa and he went to Master Snow. He never seen her any more. +He took another wife and jumped over the broom on the Snow place. He +thought some of his owners was terrible. He had been whooped till he +couldn't wear clothes. He said they stuck so bad. + +"My own father whipped me once till my clothes stuck to my back. I +told you I had seen a pretty hard time in my own life. I was born in +Starkville, Mississippi. + +"Since I was a girl there has been many changes. I was married by Rev. +Bell December 14, 1902. My husband is living and still my husband. I can +see big changes taking place all the time. I was married at De Valls +Bluff." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This woman could give me some comparative views on the present +generation but she didn't. It is one of the Saturday gathering halls. +She depends on it somewhat for a living and didn't say a word either pro +or con for the present generation. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ellen Briggs Thompson + 3704 W. Twelfth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +Birth and Relatives + +"I was born in October 1844, in Nashville, Arkansas. I don't remember +the exact day. I have went through thick and thin. I was a small girl +when my mother died. I got the rheumatism so bad I can't hardly walk. It +hurts me now. My oldest brother, Henry Briggs, was five years older than +me, and my youngest brother, Isaac Briggs, was five years younger than +me. I was born October, but he was born at Christmas Eve just after +surrender. My oldest brother died last year. My youngest brother is +in Galveston, Texas. If he is living, he is there. My name was Briggs +before I married. I was just studying about my sister-in-law when you +come up. If I could get the money, I would go to see her. She was my +oldest brother's wife. Her name was Frances Briggs after she married. +She lives in Emmet, Arkansas, where he married her. I just had two +brothers, no sisters. + +"My husband's name was Henry Thompson. He has been dead about twelve or +thirteen years. I have had so much sickness I can't remember exactly. I +married him a long time ago. I got it put down in the Bible. I married +yonder in Emmet, Arkansas. I ain't got the Bible nor nothing. My brother +had it and he is dead. + +"My father's name was Daniel Briggs. He died in Hot Springs. We were +small children when he and my mother was separated. He was in one place +and we were in another. He tried to get us children when he died, but we +was little and couldn't get to him. My mother was dead then. + +"My mother's name was Susanna Briggs. Her father's name was Isaac Metz. +The children left him in South Carolina. The white folks sold them away +from him. My mother just had three children: me, and my two brothers. I +don't know how many my grandfather had. There were four sisters that I +know besides my mother and two boys: Aunt Melissa, and Aunt Jane, and +Aunt Annie, and Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Albert Mitchell, and Uncle Ben. My +grandmother's name was Betsy. I never got to see her but they told me +about her. + + +Good Masters + +"I have heard them say that their white folks didn't whip them. My +master was a good man. My young master, when it come to the surrender, +slipped back home and told them they was going to be free as ever he +was. His name was Joe Mitchell. I never seed my white folks whip anybody +in my life. They just never whipped anybody. They never whipped me. I +have seen the white folks next to us whip their Negroes and I asked +grandma about it. She said that those were their Negroes and she would +explain what they was being whipped for. They was on another farm. I +don't remember what they was being whipped for. + +"My young master told the slaves when he notified them they was free +that if they didn't want to stay with him, he would give them enough to +go on till they could make it, you know, to keep them from starving. He +was a good man. + +"The old man, Joe's father, was named Thomas Mitchell. He died before I +was born. I never seed him, just knowed his name. Joe's mother was named +Isabel Mitchell. I came to be named Briggs because her husband's name +was Briggs. He belonged to a Briggs. I don't know what his name was +else. They didn't belong to the same master. They used to let them +marry. They would fix great big tables. Sometimes they would marry in +the house; that was in the winter. Then sometimes they would marry +outdoors. Then they would set a long table for all their associates to +eat just like you would fix a table for your friends. Looked like they +would be so glad to see their boys and girls marry. They would have +regular preacher and marry just like they do now. + +"There wasn't no breeders on our place. But I have heard of people who +did keep a woman just for that purpose. They never whipped her nor +nothing. They just let her have children. As soon as she had one, they +would take it away from her so that she could have another one right +away. + + +Jayhawkers + +"When my young master was gone to the War and the jayhawkers would come +around, my young master's mother would take all the colored women and +children and lock them up and she would take a big heavy gun and go out +to meet them. The Jayhawkers were white people who would steal corn and +horses and even slaves if they could get them. But colored folks was +sharp. They would do things to break their horses' legs and they would +run and hide. My uncle was a young boy. He saw the Jayhawkers coming +once. And he ran and pressed himself under the crib. The space was so +small he nearly broke his ribs. His mistress had to get him out and take +him to the house. + +"My grandmother used to take me with her after dark when she'd go out +to pray. She wouldn't go anywhere without me. One time when she was out +praying, I touched her and said to her that I heard something in the +corn crib. She cut her prayer off right now and went and told it to her +old mistress, and to the young master, who was in the house just then +telling the Negroes they were all going to be free. The Jayhawkers spied +us and they got out and went on their way. My young master crawled out +and went back to the Confederate army. He had to crawl out because he +wanted to keep anybody from seeing him and capturing him. + + +Soldiers + +"I never seed but one or two soldiers. That was after the surrender. I +suppose they were Union soldiers. They had on their blue jackets. There +never was any fighting in Nashville, while I was living there. + +"About all that I knew about the War was that the men went off to fight. +None of the colored men went--just the white men. The colored men stayed +back and worked in the field. Isabel Mitchell and her boys were bosses. +What they said _goed_. + + +Slave Houses + +"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them were plank houses. +Some of the slaves chinked 'em up with dirt. They had these big wooden +windows in the houses. Sometimes they would be two, sometimes they would +be three windows--one to each room. There would be two or three or four +rooms to the house. That would be according to the family. My mother had +three girls besides her own children. She had a four-room house. Her +house was built right in the white folks' yard. My grandmother didn't +work in the field. She tended to the children. She worked in the big +house. My mother was boss of the whole thing. She would go and work in +the field but grandmother would see after the children. She wouldn't +let me go from her to the gate without her. I just had to follow her +everywhere she went. + +"Grandmother besides taking care of us used to make clothes. She cooked +for the white folks. But she sure had to see after us children. I seed +after myself. I was all the girl-child there and I just did what I +wanted to. + +"The country was kind of wild in those days. The deer used to come +loping down and we would be scared and run and hide. Some people would +set the dogs on them and some people would kill them no matter who they +belonged. + +You see, some people had them as pets. + + +Amusements + +"I never seed nothing in the way of amusements except people going to +church and going to parties and all such as that. They believed in going +to church. They would have parties at night. The white folks didn't care +what they had. They would help prepare for it. They would let 'em have +anything they wanted to have and let 'em go to church whenever they +wanted to go. + +And if they took a notion they would have a supper. When they would have +a party they would do just like they do now. They would have dancing. I +never seed any playing cards. When they danced, somebody would play the +fiddle for them. When they had a supper, they would usually sell the +things. Then the white folks would come and buy from them. There would +be nice looking things on the table. + + +Church + +"They had meetings at Center Point, and at Arkadelphia. And they would +let us go to them or anywhere else we wanted. We had to have passes, of +course. They had colored preachers. Sometimes the slaves would go to +the white people's church. They wouldn't go often, just every once in +awhile. White ladies would get after the colored to come and go with +them sometimes. Sometimes, too, when they would have a dinner or +something, they would take Aunt Sue or mother to cook for them. They +wouldn't let nobody meddle with them or bother them--none of the other +white folks. And they would let them fix a table for their own friends +that they would want to have along. + + +Personal Occupations + +"I used to work in the field or in the house or anything I could get to +do. I would even go out and saw these big rails when my husband would +have a job and couldn't get a chance to do it. It has been a good while +since I have been able to do any good work. My husband has been dead +fifteen years and I had to quit work long before he died. + + +Right after the War + +"Right after the War my folks worked in the field, washed, cooked, or +anything they could do. They left the old place and came down about +Washington, Arkansas. I don't know just how long they stayed in +Washington. From Washington, my mother went to Prescott and settled +there at a little place they called Sweet Home, just outside of +Prescott. That is where my daughter was born and that is where my mother +died. I came here about nine years ago. + + +Present Support + +I came here to stay with my daughter. But now she doesn't have any help +herself. She has three small children and she's their only support now. +She's not working either. She just come in from the Urban League looking +for a job. They say that they don't have a thing and that the people +don't want any women now. They just want these young girls because they +make them work cheaper. We have both applied for help from the Welfare +but neither of us has gotten anything yet." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Hattie Thompson, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I was born the second year after the surrender. I was born close to +Arlington, Tennessee. My parents was Mariah Thermon and Johnson Mayo. +They had eight children. They belong to different owners. I heard mama +say in slavery time she'd clean her house good Saturday and clean up her +children and start cooking dinner fore pa come. They looked forward to +pa coming. Now that was at our own house. + +"Mama was heired. She was the house woman and cook for her young +mistress, Miss Sallie Thermon. She married Mr. John Thermon. She was +Miss Sallie Royster till she married. I heard her say she raised Miss +Sallie's children with her own. She was a wet nurse. I know Miss Sallie +was good to her. I don't think she was sold but her mother was sold. +She would spin and weave and the larger children did too. They made +bed spreads in colors and solid white. They called the colored ones +coverlets. They was pretty. Mama helped quilt. She was a good hand at +that. They made awful close stitches and backstitched every now and then +to make it hold. They would wax the thread to keep it from rolling up +and tangling. + +"Thread was in balls. They rolled it from skeins to balls. They rolled +it from shuck broches to the balls. Put shucks around the spindle to +slip it off easy. I have seen big balls this big (2 ft. in diameter) +down on the floor and mama, knitting off of it right on. When the feet +wore out on socks and stockings, they would unravel them, save the good +thread, and reknit the foot or toe or heel. + +"When I was a child, patching and darning was stylish. Soon as the +washing was brung in the clothes had to be sorted out and every snag +place patched nice. Folks had better made clothes and had to take care +of em. Clothes don't last no time now. White folks had fine clothes but +they didn't have nigh as many as white folks do now. + +"Mama was a pretty good hand at doing mighty nigh what she took a +notion to do about the house. She never was no count in the field--jess +couldn't hold out it seem like. She worked in the field lots. Pa was +a shoemaker. He made all our shoes and had his tools, lasts, etc. He +learned his trade in slavery. He farmed. + +"It has been so long ago I tell you I don't recollect things straight. I +don't know how they found out about freedom but they left I think. They +got all they could take, their clothes and a little to eat. They +started share cropping. They was out from Holly Springs when I come to +knowledge. Mama was a nice hand at cooking and hand sewing. She said +Miss Sallie learnt her. She never could read. + +"I come to Arkansas fifty year ago this spring with one little girl--all +the little girl I ever had. I never had no boys. I come here to get +work. I always got work. It was a new country and it was being cleared +out. In the spring we could get wild polk greens to cook. You can't get +none now. + +"Times is sider'bly changed since then. Hogs run wild. Plenty game here +then. Something to eat was not hard to get then as it is now. We raise a +hog in a pen nearly every year but it takes plenty to feed it that way. + +"My husband have rheumatism and we get $12 and commodities. He works in +the field and I wash and iron when I can get some to do. That is scarce. +He works all he can." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Mamie Thompson + Brinkley, Ark. +Age: 68 + + +"I come here with my parents in 1887. Nothing much here in Brinkley then +but woods and three stores. My mother was a mix-breed. She was mixed +with Cherokee Indian and Negro. My father come from Virginia. He was +black--so black he shined. My mother was born in Cairo, Illinois. My +mother and father both died here in Brinkley. This town started from a +big saw mill." + +"Understand, all I knows was told to me by my parents. Grandma's master +was Master Redman. He kept Aunt Emma and my mother. They never was sold. +My mother was put on the block but her mistress come took her down. +Master Redman had her in the field working. The overseer was a white +man. He tried to take her down and carry on with her. She led him to the +house. He wanted her whooped cause she had whooped him sort of. He +was mad cause he couldn't overpower her. Master Redman got her in the +kitchen to whoop her with a cow hide; she told him she would kill him; +she got a stick. He let her out and they come to buy her--_a Negro +trader_. Old Mistress--his wife--went out and led her down from there +in the house and told Master Redman if he sold Mattie she would quit +him--she meant leave him. Mistress Redman kept her with her and made a +house girl out of her. She tended to the children and cleaned the house. +Aunt Emma milked and churned. + +"Grandma was a Molly Glaspy woman. She had straight wavy hair, small +eyes. She was a small woman. Grandpa was a tall big man. He was a full +blood Indian. + +"My mother called whiskey 'jagger'--I don't know why. + +"After Mr. Redman died, Miss Mary married Mr. Badgett. Me and George and +Sissy all growed up together. My mother was married twice too. She had +two of us by her first husband and eight children by her last husband. + +"I heard them say they lived in Crittenden County, Arkansas during the +Civil War. They lived in west Tennessee not far from Memphis when I was +a child. Mrs. Badgett lived in Memphis after she got old. Mary's mother +visited her long as she lived. I did too. She has been dead several +years. She give me a sugar bowl when I was twelve years old--I still got +it. I won't sell it. I'll give it to my girl. + +"I don't know about the Ku Klux. I never heard a great deal about them. + +"I don't vote--not interested. + +"Well, I sewed till the very day I was 65 years old. The foreman said I +was too old now, but sign up for the pension. I am crippled. I did. I +get commodities, but no money. + +"I washed, ironed, cooked. I worked at Mrs. Jim Gunn's and I cooked nine +years for Mrs. Dora Gregg. I work whenever I can get work to be done. I +like to sew but they cut me off." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mike Thompson, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born near Honey Grove, Texas. I remember my grandparents on both +sides--they were all Thompsons. They were cotton and corn farmers. I +don't know where they come from. I was so small and as soon as the War +was done a whole gang of us come from Texas to Dardanelle, Arkansas. + +"The Bushwhackers was so bad we was guarded to the line and they went +back. We come in wagons. Bushwhackers was robbers. I remember that. My +grandparents and parents all come in the gang. Clem Thompson, my owner, +died. He had a family. I don't know what become of none but Ed Thompson. +We was the same age and growed up together. I worked for him at +Dardanelle but I don't know how he come from Texas. He butchered and +peddled meat and had a shop too. I don't think Ed owned land over at +Dardanelle but my father owned eighty acres over there when he died. My +father was Cubit Thompson. His father was Plato Thompson. My mother was +Harriett Thompson. + +"The Thompsons was fairly good to their niggers, I recken. Ed was good +to me. He promised me I should never want but I don't know if he be dead +or not. I wish I could hear from him. + +"When I was about twenty-five years old I was coming in home from town +one night. I seen his house on fire. I kept going fast as I could run, +woke him up. He run out but his wife didn't. He said, 'My wife! my wife! +my wife!' I run in where he run out. She was standing back in a corner +the flames nearly all around her. I picked her up and run out and about +that time the whole house fell in. They never got through thanking me. +I come off over here and never hear a word from him. He always said I +saved their lives and hers mostly. + +"Times--young men can get work if they will go to the field and work. +If you can't work, times is hard two ways. If you are used to work, you +hard to get contentment and loss of the money too. Money don't buy much. +Awful sight of cotton and you don't get much out of it. Young folks is +got young notions. + +"I come to Widener in 1908. I made a good living. I own this house. Now +I got to quit working in bad weather. My rheumatism gets so bad. I'll be +eighty years old 23rd of September this year (1938)." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person Interviewed: Laura Thornton + 1215 W. Twenty-Fourth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 105? + + +"My native home is Alabama. I was born not far from Midway, Alabama, +about twelve miles from Clayton. Midway, Clayton, and Barber are all +nearby towns. We used to go to all of them. + +"My master was Tom Eford. When he died, I fell to Polly Eford. Polly +Eford was the old lady. I don't know where they is and they don't know +nothing about where I is. It's been so long. Because I done lef' Alabama +fifty years. I don't know whether any of them is living or not. It's +been so long. + +"Their baby boy was named Giles Eford. His mother was Miami Eford and my +father's name was Perry Eford. That is the name he went in. My mother +went in that name too. My father died the second year of the surrender. +My mother was a widow a long time. I was a grown-up woman and had +children when my father died. + +"I married during slavery time. I don't remember just how old I was +then. My old man knows my age, but I can't remember it. But he's +been dead this year makes thirteen years. I had one child before the +surrender. I was just married to the one man. I was married after the +surrender. I don't want to be married again. I never seed a man I would +give a thought to since he died. Lord knows how long we'd been married +before he died. + +"We came here and stayed four years and we bought a home down on Arch +Street Pike about ten miles from here. I lived there sixty years. I've +got the tax receipts for sixty years back. I ain't never counted the +ones I paid since he's been dead. + +"I was the mother of three children and none of them are living. All of +them dead but me. + +"They made like they was goin' to give old slave folks a pension. They +ain't gimme none yit. I'm just livin' on the mercy of the people. I +can't keep up the taxes now. I wish I could git a pension. It would help +keep me up till I died. They won't even as much as give me nothin' on +the relief. They say these grandchildren ought to keep me up. I have to +depend on them and they can't hardly keep up theirselves. + +"When the Civil War broke out, my baby was about seven years old. My +mother was here when the stars fell. She had one child then. + +"I remember a war before the Civil War. I heard the white folks talking +about it. They wouldn't tell colored folks nothing. They'd work them to +death and beat them to death. They'd sell them just like you sell hogs. +My mother was sold from me when I was little. Old lady Eford, she was +my mistress and mammy too. If she ever slapped me, I don't know nothin' +'bout it. + +"My daddy made his farm jus' like colored people do now. White man would +give him so much ground if he'd a mind to work it. He had a horse he +used. + +"We lived a heap better than the people live now. They fed you then. +You ate three times a day. When twelve o'clock come, there dinner was, +cooked and ready. Nothin' to do but eat it, and then set down and res' +with the other people. There was them that was good. + +"But them what was mean done the colored folks bad. + + +Early Days + +"I was little when my mother was sold from me. I was runnin' about +though in the yard. I couldn't do nothing. But I was a smart girl. The +first work I can remember doin' was goin' to the field ploughing. That +is the first thing I remember. I was little. I just could come up to the +plough. I cut logs when I was a little child like them children there +(children about ten years old playing in the street). I used to clean up +new ground--do anything. + +"My mother and father both worked in the field. My father was sold away +from me jus' like my mother was. Old lady Eford was my mother and father +too. That was in Clayton, Alabama. Old Tom Eford had three boys--one +named Tom, one named William, and there was the one named Giles what I +told you about. William was the oldest, Tom was the second, and Giles +was the youngest. + +"I never learnt to read and write. In slave time, they didn't let you +have no books. My brother though was a good reader. He could write as +well as any of them because he would be with the white children and they +would show him. That is the way my brother learnt. He would lay down all +day Sunday and study. The good blessed Lord helped him. + + +Marriage + +"The man I married was on the plantation. They married in slave time +just like they do these days. When I married, the justice of peace +married me. That was after freedom, our folks would give big weddings +just like they do now (just after the war). I ain't got my license now. +Movin' 'round, it got lost. I was married right at home where me and my +old man stayed. Wasn't nobody there but me and him and another man named +Dr. Bryant. That wasn't far from Midway. + +"I can't talk much since I had those strokes. Can't talk plain, just +have to push it out, but I thank God I can do that much. The Lord let me +stay here for some reason--I don't know what. I would rather go, but he +ain't called me. + + +How the Day Went + +"We got up after daylight. Tom Eford didn't make his folks git up early. +But after he was dead and gone, things changed up. The res' made 'em git +up before daylight. He was a good man. The Lord knows. Yes Lord, way +before day. You'd be in the field to work way before day and then work +way into the night. The white folks called Eford's colored people poor +white folks because he was so good to them. Old Tom Eford was the +sheriff of Clayton. + +"His folks came back to the house at noon and et their dinner at the +house. He had a cook and dinner was prepared for them just like it was +for the white folks. The colored woman that cooked for them had it ready +when they came there for it. They had a great big kitchen and the hands +ate there. They came back to the same place for supper. And they didn't +have to work late either. Old Tom Eford never worked his hands extra. +That is the reason they called his niggers poor-white folks. Folks lived +at home them days and et in the same place. When my old man was living, +I had plenty. Smokehouse was full of good meat. Now everything you git, +you have to buy. + +"Next morning, they all et their breakfast in the same kitchen. They et +three meals a day every day. My mother never cooked except on Sunday. +She didn't need to. + + +Patrollers + +"Me and old lady Eford would be out in the yard and I would hear her +cuss the pateroles because they didn't want folks to 'buse their +niggers. They had to git a pass from their masters when they would be +out. If they didn't have a pass, the pateroles would whip them. + + +Jayhawkers + +"The jayhawkers would catch folks and carry them out in the woods and +hang them up. They'd catch you and beat you to death. + + +Runaways + +"Colored folks what would run away, old lady Eford would call them +'rottenheads' and 'bloody bones.' We would hear the hounds baying after +them and old lady Eford would stand out in the yard and cuss them--cuss +the hounds I mean. Like that would do any good. Some slaves would kill +theirselves before they would be caught. They would hear them dogs. I +have seen old Tom Eford. He would have them dogs. He was sheriff and he +had to do it. He carried them dogs. He would be gone two weeks before +he would be back sometimes. Alden or Alton was the place they said they +carried the runaways. + + +Slave Breeding + +"They never kept no slaves for breeding on any plantation I heard of. +They would work them to death and breed them too. There was places where +old massa kept one for hisself. + + +Amusements + +"Folks had heap more pleasure than they do now in slave time. They had +parties and dances and they would bow 'round. They had fiddles and +danced by them. Folks danced them days. They don't dance now, just mess +around. My brother could scrape the fiddle and dance on, all at the same +time. Folks would give big suppers and ask people out. They would feed +nice times with one another. Folks ain't got no love in their hearts +like they used to have. + +"Folks would give quiltings. They don't think about quilting now. They +would quilt out a quilt and dance the rest of the night. They would have +a big supper at the quilting. Nice time too. They would kill a hog and +barbecue it. They would cook chicken. Have plenty of whiskey too. Some +folks would get drunk. That was whiskey them days. They ain't got no +whiskey now--old poison stuff that will kill people. + +My daddy was jus' drunk all the time. He had plenty of whiskey. That was +what killed old Tom Eford. He kept it settin' on the dresser all the +time. You couldn't walk in his house but what you would see it time you +got in. Folks hide it now. I have drunk a many a glass of it. I would go +and take a glass whenever I wanted to. + + +How Freedom Came + +"The old white folks told me I was free. They had me hired out. I wasn't +staying with my owner. There wasn't nobody there with me but the white +folks where I was staying. That morning I got up to get breakfast +and there wasn't no fire and there wasn't so matches. I went to some +neighbors to get a chunk of fire and they told me to go back to my folks +because I was free. When I got back to the house they was mad and wanted +to whip me. So I just put the fire down and never cooked no breakfast +but jus' went on to my brother's. The reason they wanted to whip me was +because I had gone outside of the house without their knowing it. + +"When I went to my brother's, I had to walk twelve miles. My brother +carried me to my mother and father. And then he took me back to old lady +Eford, and she told me to go on to my mother, that I was free now. So he +took me on back to my ma and pa. He said he'd do that so that I could +stay with them. + + +Slave Earnings + +"Slaves had money in slave time. My daddy bought a horse. He made a crop +every year. He made his bale of cotton. He made corn to feed his horse +with. He belonged to his white folks but he had his house and lot right +next to theirs. They would give him time you know. He didn't have to +work in the heat of the day. He made his crop and bought his whiskey. +The white folks fed 'im. He had no expenses 'cept tending to his crop. +He didn't have to give Tom Eford anything he made. He just worked his +crop in his extra time. Many folks too lazy to git theirselves somethin' +when they have the chance to do it. But my daddy wasn't that kind. His +old master gave him the ground and he made it give him the money. + +"My daddy left me plenty but I ain't got it now. I didn't care what +happened when he died. People made out like they was goin' to put my +money in the bank for me and took it and destroyed it. Used it for +theirselves I reckon. Now I need it and ain't got it--ain't got a +penny. For five or six years at my home, I made good crops. We raised +everything we needed at home. Didn't know what it was to come to town to +buy anything. If anybody had told me twenty years ago I would be in this +shape, I wouldn't have believed it because I had plenty. + + +What Slaves Got When Freed + +"They said they was gwine a give the slaves something, but they never +did do it. Then the master made out like he was gwine a give the slaves +so much if they stayed 'round and made his crops for him, but he didn't +do it. + + +Come Again + +"If the Lord lets you git back tomorrow, try and come a little sooner in +the day than you did today. I gits up about six in the morning. I don't +believe in layin' in bed late. I go to bed directly after dark and I +wake up early. The Lord never did mean for nobody to sleep all day." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +A number of people testify to Laura Thornton's age. I am trying to check +up on it. Results later. If she isn't a hundred [HW: and] five years +old, she is "mighty nigh" it. She has feeble health, but a surprisingly +alert mind, and a keen sharp memory. She has a tendency to confuse +Reconstruction times with slavery times, but a little questioning always +brings out the facts. + +She doesn't like to talk much about marriage in slavery. Evidently she +dislikes the fact that one of her children ms born before emancipation. +She was evidently married only once, as questioning brought out; but she +will refer to the marriage before emancipation and the one afterward as +though they were to different persons. + + + + +[HW: Curtis, Ark. +Emma (Bama?) Tidwell] + +OLD SLAVE STORIES + + +I + +Ah'm one uv dem ole timers. Ah been here since way back yonder. Fust +thing ah kin member is a bad storm an mah ma put us undah de baid. She +wuz skeered hit would blow us away. Ah use tuh play till ah got bigger +nuff tuh work. Ah member we use tuh play runnin. We'd play walkin tuh +see which one uv us could walk de fastest tuh de field tuh carry dinner. +We use tuh jump an we use tuh ride stick hosses an limbs offn trees. + +Ole boss learnt mah pa how tuh make shoes an de way he done: Dey kilt a +cow an a deer an take dey hides an tanned dem. De way he tanned hit wuz +tuh take red oak bark an white oak bark an put in vats. Dese vats wuz +somethin like troughs dat helt water an he put a layer uv oak ashes +an or layer uv ashes an a layer uv leather till he got hit all in an +covered wid water. Aftuh dat dey let hit soak till de hair come offn de +hide den dey would take de hide oft an hit wuz ready fuh tannin. Den de +hide wuz put tuh soak in wid de redoak bark. Hit stayed in de water till +de hide turnt tan den pa took de hide out uv de redoak dye an hit would +be a purty tan. Hit didn' have tuh soak so long. Den he would git his +pattern an cut an make tan shoes outn dat tanned hide. We called dem +brogans. We all wore shoes cause mah pa made em. + +We planted indigo an hit growed jes like wheat. When hit got ripe we +gathered hit an we would put hit in a barrel an let hit soak bout er +week den we would take de indigo stems out an squeeze all de juice outn +dem, put de juice back in de barrel an let hit stay dere bout nother +week, den we jes stirred an stirred one whole day. We let hit set three +or four days den drained de water offn hit an dat left de settlings an +de settlings wuz blueing jes like we have dese days. We cut ours in +little blocks. Den we dyed clothes wid hit. We had purty blue cloth. De +way we set de color we put alumn in hit. Dat make de color stay right +dere. + +Ah'll tell yuh how tuh dye. Er little beech bark dyes slate color set +wid copper. Hickory bark an bay leaves dyes yellow set wid chamber lye; +bamboo dyes turkey red, set color wid copper. Pine straw an sweetgum +dyes purple, set color wid chamber lye. Ifn yuh dont bleave hit try em +all. + +Mah ma made cloth while mah pa made shoes. Ah member jes as good when +dey handcuff mah ma's two brothers tuh keep um from runnin off when dey +got ready tuh sell em. Ah seed um handcuff as many as eight tugethuh +when dey marched dem tuh de pen. Yuh know dey had uh pen kinder like de +pond pen fer cows an hosses. Well dey would drive us niggers tuh de pond +pen an dey had er big block in de pen an dey put one uv us niggers on +hit at a time. Bid us off tuh de highest bidder. Mah ole boss wuz a +gambler. People talk bout dis gamblin an drinkin bein a late thing--dem +white fokes done hit way back yonder 90 years ergo, cause mah ole boss +gambled me off, ah clare he did. Gambled me off one Sunday mornin'. Ole +Boss made whiskey jes like dey do tuhday. + +Black preachers couldn' preach tuh us. Ole boss would tie em tuh a tree +an whoop em if dey caught us eben praying. We had er big black washpot +an de way we prayed we'd go out an put our mouths to der groun an pray +low an de sound wud go up under de pot an ole boss couldn' bear us. De +white preacher would call us under a tree Sunday evenin tuh preach tuh +us. Dis is whut his text would be: "Mind yo mistress." Den he would ceed +tuh preach--"Don't steal der potatoes; don't lie bout nothin an don' +talk back tuh yo boss; ifn yo does yo'll be tied tuh a tree an stripped +neckid. When dey tell yuh tuh do somethin run an do it." Dat's de kind +uv gospel we got. + +We cooked on fiuhplaces in er iron pot; cooked bread in a ubben. We had +ash cakes. We et purty good. + +Ah didn go tuh school. Ah wuz awful sly. Ah wanted tuh learn tuh read so +ah hung eroun ole mistess when she wuz teachin huh chillun tuh read. Ah +listened an when she put de book down an went out ah got de book. Ah +kep' hit up till ah learnt tuh read. Ah been teachin one Bible class in +Curtis 42 years. Some uv em dare ask me how ah learnt tuh read so good +an ah tole dem dat a person dat couldn' learn tuh read in a hunnert +years ought tuh be daid. + +Ah wuz twenty-two when de silver war broke. Ah know when hit started +but ah don' know whut hit wuz erbout. All I know Jeff Davis an Abraham +Lincoln wuz de two presidents. Lincoln wuz somethin like regular +president an Jeff Davis wuz somethin like er confedric president or +somethin. Ah didn' know jes how hit wuz. Jeff Davis ah think wuz er +rebel and Lincoln republic. When de fight come up dey wuzn fightin tuh +set de niggers free, ah don' think. At de time dey wuz fightin ovah de +Union but aftuh de slave owners wuz gwianter take de innocent slaves an +make dem fight on dey side. Den Lincoln said hit wouldn' be. So dat when +he sot em free. Whoopee! Yo ought ter seed dem Yankees fightin. Aftuh de +battle wuz ovah we would walk ovah de battle groun' an look at de daid +bones, skellums ah think dey called em. Aftuh de white fokes tole us we +wuz free dey didn' give us nothin. Turnt us out widout a place tuh stay, +no clo'es but whut we had on our back an nuthin tuh eat. We jes slept +undah trees an roun bout. Didn' have nuthin tuh eat cept parched corn. +We stole dat. Had tuh do somethin. De nex year de white fokes let us +make a crop wid den fuh somethin tuh eat an clo'es an de women could +work fuh a few clo'es an somethin tuh eat. So in er year er two niggers +went tuh tryin tuh duh somethin fuh demselves, an been tryin tuh help +dey selfs evah since. Ah know all bout hit. Ah wuz tall an ah is now +when dey cried "Free!" Ain't growed nairy nother inch. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Joe Tillman + W. 10th and Highway No. 79 + Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in 1859 down here at Walnut Lake. The man what owned us was +Crum Holmes. + +"All I can remember was the patrollers and the Ku Klux. I reckon I ought +to, I seed 'em. I got skeered and run. I heered 'em talk 'bout how +they'd do the folks and we chillun thought they'd do us the same way. + +"I 'member hearin' 'em talk 'bout the Yankees--how they'd come through +there and how they used to do. + +"I guess we had plenty to eat. All I know was when I got ready to eat, I +could eat. + +"My parents was brought from Tennessee but all the place I know anything +about is Walnut Lake. + +"I know my mother said I was the cause of her gettin' a lot of +whippin's. I'd run off and the boss man whipped her cause she wasn't +keepin' me at home. If he didn't whip her, he'd pull her ears. + +"When we was comin' up they didn't 'low the chillun to sit around where +the old folks was talkin'. And at night when company come in, we chillun +had to go to bed out the way. Sometimes I'm glad of it. See so many +chillun now gettin' into trouble. + +"I never been arrested in my life. Been a witness once or twice--that's +the only way I ever been in court. If I'd a been like a lot of 'em, I +might a been dead or in the pen. + +"In them days, if we did something wrong, anybody could whip us and if +we'd go tell our folks we get another whippin'. + +"After freedom my parents stayed there and worked by the day. They +didn't have no privilege of sellin' the cotton though. + +"I didn't start to farm till I was 'bout twelve years old. They started +me bustin' out the middles till I learnt how and then they put the +plowin' in my hands. + +"White people been pretty good to me 'cause I done what they told me. + +"I went to school a little 'long about '70. I learnt how to read and +kept on till I could write a little. + +"I used to vote 'til they stopped us. I used to vote right along, but I +stopped foolin' with it. 'Course we can vote in the president election +but I got so I couldn't see what ticket I was votin', so I stopped +foolin' with it. + +"I farmed till 'bout '94, then I worked at the compress and brick work." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: J.T. Tims + 111 Mosaic Temple, Ninth and Broadway + Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 86 +Occupation: Cook, waiter, and farmer + + +"I was born in Jefferson County, Mississippi in 1853. That would make me +eighty-six years old. I was born six miles from Fayette--six miles east +of Fayette. I was eighty-six years old the eleventh day of September. + +"My father's name was Daniel Tims, and my mother's name was Ann Tims. My +mother was born in Lexington, Kentucky. Ma's been dead years and years +ago, and my father is gone too. My mother's name before she married was +----; she she told it to us all right but I just never can think of it. + +"I don't know the name of my mother's master. But my father's master +was named Blount Steward. Pa was born on Blount's plantation and Blount +bought my ma because they brought her from Kentucky for sale. They had +her for sale just like you would sell hogs and mules. Then my father saw +her and liked her and married her. She was a slave too. + + +Master + +"Blount Steward was kinder good. He was very well till the war +started--the Federal War. Miss Ann went to whip me for nothing. + + +Whippings + +"I was carrying her daughter to school every day except Saturdays and +Sundays. One day, Miss Ann was off and I was at the back steps playing +and she decided to whip me. I told her I hadn't done nothing but she put +my head between her legs and started to beatin' me. And I bit her legs. +She lemme loose and hollered. Then she called for William to come and +beat me. William was one of the colored slaves. William come to do it. +Ma had been peeping out from the kitchen watchin' the whole thing. When +William come up to beat me, she came out with a big carving knife and +told him, 'That's my child and if you hit him, I'll kill you.' + +"Then she sent for Tully to come and whip me, I mean to whip my mother. +Tully was my young master. Tully came and said to my mother, 'I know you +ain't done nothin' nor your child neither, but I'll have to hit you a +few light licks to satisfy ma.' + +"Blount come the next day and went down to where pa was making shoes. He +said, 'Daniel, you're looking mighty glum.' + +"Pa said, 'You'd be lookin' glum too if your wife and chile had done +been beat up for nothin'.' + +"When he said that, Blount got mad. He snatched up a shoe hammer and hit +pa up side the head with it. + +"Pa said, 'By God, don't you try it again.' + +"Blount didn't hit him again. Pa was ready to fight, and he wasn't sure +that he could whip him. Pa said, 'You won't hit me no more.' The war was +goin' on then. + + +Runaways + +"The following Sunday night, twelve head of 'em left there. My ma and +pa and me and our whole family and some more besides was along. We went +from the plantation to Rodney, Mississippi first, trying to get on a +steamboat--gunboat. The gunboat wouldn't take us for fear we would get +hurt. The war was goin' on then. So we just transferred down the river +and went on to Natchez. We went there walking and wading. We was from +Sunday night to Sunday night gettin' there. We didn't have no trouble +'sept that the hounds ms runnin' us. But they didn't catch us--they +didn't catch none of us. My ma and my pa and my brothers and sisters +besides me was all in the crowd; and we all got to Natchez. + +"They are all dead and gone to Judgment now but me. I think that I got +one sister in Chicago, Illinois. She is my baby sister. I ain't never +heard nothing about her bein' dead. + + +Natchez + +"At Natchez, ma didn't do anything. We children didn't do nothin' either +there. But pa joined the army. He joined it the next day after he got +there. Then I went to work waiting on the sixty-fourth--lemme see--yes, +it was the Sixty-Fourth Brass Epaulettes. I was waiting on one of the +sergeants. He was a Yankee sergeant. The sergeant's name was Josephus, +and the captain of the Company was Lieutenant Knowles. I was with them +two years and six months. I never did get hurt. When they went to fight +at New Orleans, the captain wouldn't lemme take part in it. He said that +I was so brave he was a 'fraid I might get hurt. + +"Me and my father were the only ones working in the family at that time. +I stayed right in Natchez but my father didn't. My father's first stop +was in Bullocks Bar right above Vidalia. That was where his company was +stationed first. Lemme see, he went from there to Davis Bend. I wasn't +with them. He was in a colored regiment. I was with a white regiment. +He left Davis Bend and want to Vicksburg. His next trip was up the +Sunflower River. His next trip he went from there up here to De Valls +Bluff. That is where he come free. That was the end of the fighting +there--right there. + +"From there he come back to Rodney. We all want to Davis Bend while pa +was there. When he left and went to De Valls Bluff, ma went to Rodney. +I stayed with the soldiers two years and a half down there at Natchez. +That's as far as I went with them. When they left I stayed. + +"I went to Rodney with my mother and stayed with her and the rest of the +children till she died. My ma died in 1874. My father died down here in +Pine Bluff several years ago. After ma died, pa married another woman. +He went back to Pine Bluff and was killed by a train when he was +crossing a trestle. + + +Age and Other Masters + +"Blount Steward was the only master any of us ever had, outside of my +ma's first master--the one in Kentucky. I don't know anything about +them. I was eight years old when the war began and twelve years old when +it ended. I must have been older than that because I was twelve years +old when I was serving them soldiers. And I had to come away from them +before the war was over. + + +Slave Work + +"The first work I ever did in slave time was dining-room service. When I +left the dining-room table, I left carrying my young mistress to school +six miles from Fayette. They give me to Lela, my young mistress. She was +the young girl I was carrying to school when I got the whipping. When +ol' mis' was whippin' me, I asked her what she was whipping me for, and +she said, 'Nothin', 'cause you're mine, and I can whip you if I want +to.' She didn't think that I had done anything to the girl. She was just +mad that day, and I was around; so she took it out on me. After that, I +never did any more work as a slave, because the whole family ran away +about that time. I don't reckon pa would ever have run off if ol' miss +hadn't whipped me and if ol' massa hadn't struck him. They rats good +till then; but it looked like the war made them mean. + + +Patrollers, Jayhawkers, Ku Klux, and Ku Klux Klan + +"They had pateroles going 'round watching the colored people to keep +them from running off. That's all I know 'bout them. I don't remember +hearin' anything about the jayhawkers. + +"I heard lots 'bout the Ku Klux. They were terrible. The white folks had +one another goin' 'round watching and keeping them from runnin' off. The +Ku Klux would whip people they caught out. They would whip them just +because they could; because they called themselves bosses, because they +was white and the colored people was niggers. They didn't do nothin' but +just keep the slaves down. It was before the war that I knew 'bout the +Ku Klux. There wasn't no difference between the pateroles and the Ku +Klux that I knows of. If they'd ketch you, they all would whip you. I +don't know nothin' about the Ku Klux Klan after the war. I know they +broke them up. + + +Slave Houses, Furniture, Food, and Work + +"Before the war, we lived in a old log house. It had one window, one +door, and one room. Colored people didn't have no two or three-room +houses before the war. I'll tell you that right now. All the furniture +we had was bed stools and quilts. 'Course we had them old stools that pa +made. We kept food right there in the house where we was in one corner. +We didn't have no drawers--nothing like that. The white folks fed us. +They give us as much as they thought we ought to have. Every Saturday +night you would go to the smokehouse and get your meat and meal and your +molasses. Didn't get no flour, no coffee, no sugar. Pa was an ox driver +and when he would go to Rodney to carry cotton, he would buy sugar and +coffee for himself. You see, they would slip a little something and make +a little money off it. Like they was goin' to Rodney tomorrow, they +would slip and kill a couple of hogs and carry them along with them. +That was the only way they could get a little money. My pa's main work +was shoemaking, but he worked in the field too. He was a driver chiefly +when he was out in the field. He hoed and plowed. He was the leader of +the gang. He never got a chance to make no money for hisself before the +war. Nope, the colored people didn't have no money 'tall lessen they +slipped and got it. + + +Slave Marriages + +"Say I wanted this woman for my wife. We would just put down the broom +and step over it and we would be married. That is all there was to it +before emancipation. Didn't have no matrimony read nor nothing. You were +married when you stepped over the broom handle. That was your wife. + + +A Lincoln Story + +"They say Abe Lincoln come down in this part of the country and asked +for work. He had his little grip just like you got. The man said, 'Wait +till I go to dinner.' Didn't say, 'Come to dinner,' and didn't say +nothin' 'bout, 'Have dinner.' Just said, 'Wait till I go eat my dinner.' +When he come back, Abe Lincoln was up there looking over his books. He'd +done changed his clothes and everything. He had guards with him but they +didn't see 'em. That is the story I heard them tell. + + +What the Slaves Got + +"When the slaves got freed, they wasn't expecting to get nothing that +I knows of 'cept what they worked for. They weren't spectin' no forty +acres and a mule. Who was goin' to give it to 'em? The Rebs? They didn't +give 'em nothin' but what they could put on their backs--I mean lashes. + +"Blount had stocks that he used to put them in. The stocks had hinges on +one side and latches on the other. The nigger would put his head in one +hole and his arms through the others, and the old man would eat on the +other end. Your feet would be stretched out and you would be layin' on +your belly. + +"Blount whipped me once because I wouldn't go to the cow barns to get +the milk to put in the coffee that morning. I didn't have time. They had +given me to Lela, and I had to take her to school. I was 'sponsible if +she was late. He had give me to Lela. Next morning with her, and we +didn't come back till Friday evening. She went down to her Aunt Leona +Harrison's and carried me with her. She was mad because they whipped me +when I belonged to her. + +"After slavery, we worked by the month on people's plantations. I did +that kind of work till after a while the white people got so they rented +the colored people land and selled them mules for their work. Then some +worked on shares and some rented and worked for theirselves. Right after +the war most of the farms were worked on shares. We were lucky to be +able to get to work by the month. + + +Schooling + +"I went to school in Natchaz, Mississippi. My teacher came from the +North, I suppose. But those I had in Rodney, I know they come from the +North. Miss Mary--that's all the name I knowed--and Miss Emma were my +teachers in Rodney. They come from Chicago; I never went to school here. +I didn't get no farther than the second grade. I stopped school to go +work when the teacher went back to Chicago. After that I went to work in +the field and made me a living. I hadn't done but a little work in the +field helping pa now and then before that. + + +Marriages + +"I married a long time ago in Rodney. Lord, it's been so long ago I +couldn't tell you when. I been married four times. They all quit me for +other men. I didn't quit none of them. + + +Present Condition + +"I get along tolerably now for an old man. The welfare gives me a little +help. But I have to pay five dollars for these two rooms every month. +What's more, I got to eat, and I got to have somethin' to wear. +Washington won't allow me nothin' for my army service. They say I wasn't +regular. I gets eight dollars from the Welfare. + + +Opinions + +"The young people's terrible. They rather go to the penitentiary or the +county farm or get killed than to do what is right. + + +Voting and Vocational Experiences + +"I used to vote. I never had no trouble about it. + +"They tried to whip me once since freedom, but not about votin'. A man +tried to whip me down in Stoneville because another man give me a drink. +He tried to cut me with his knife. I knocked him down. I told him I +could kill him, but I just didn't want to. While I was swearing out a +warrant to get him arrested, he went and got a gun somewheres. He came +right on in with his pistol and struck me with it. I knocked him down +again, and he was dead for twenty-five minutes. They didn't have to go +nowheres to serve the warrant on him. Nobody did anything to me about +it. + +"I come to Little Rock fifty years ago or more. I farmed as long as I +was able. Doctor stopped me when I began to fall out. + +"I cooked for Dr. Stone and his wife for ten years in Greenville, +Mississippi. Then I come to Pine Bluff on a vacation. The next time they +give me a vacation, I stayed away for eleven years. I went to get some +money Dr. Stone owed me for some work I had done for him once and he +wanted me to come back and cook again. I didn't do that and he died +without paying me for the work. He said it was his brother that owed me. +But it was him that hired me. I 'tended to some mules for nine months +at four dollars a week. I never got but one four dollars. The miles +belonged to him and his brother both, but it was him that hired me. It +wasn't Captain Stone, his brother. It was him, and I looked to the man +that hired me for my money. I didn't have nothing to do with nobody but +him. It was him promised to pay me." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Throughout his story Tims carefully avoided using his first name. Never +at any time did he let it slip. + +The capture of New Orleans was effected in 1862. If the troop with which +he worked took part in the capture, he must have been twelve years old +by 1862, and his age must be at least eighty-eight. But this would be +inconsistent with his statement that he served Sergeant Josephus for two +years and a half. The detachment might have gone to New Orleans later +than '62. At any rate, Tims is at least eighty-five, and possibly older. +Here again we have a definite conviction of the use of the word Ku Klux +before the War. The way he talks of it, the term might have been a +colloquial term applied to a jayhawker or a patroller. He doesn't mean +Ku Klux Klan when he says Ku Klux. + +The Lincoln story is included on my part merely because it is at least +legendary material. I don't know what basis of fact it could or might +have. + + + + +Interviewer: S.S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Hannah Travis, + 3219 W. Sixteenth, + Little Rock, Ark. +Age: 75 +Occupation: Housewife + + +"The Jay Hawkers would travel at night. When they came to a cabin, they +would go in and tell them that owned it they wanted something to eat and +to get it ready quick. They stopped at one place and went in and ordered +their dinner. They et the supper and went away and got sick after they +left. They got up the next morning and examined the road and the horse +tracks and went on. They all thought something had been given to them, +but I don't guess there was. They caught my mother and brought her here +and sold her. If they caught a nigger, they would carry him off and sell +him. That's how my mother came to Arkansas. + +"I don't know what year I was born in. I know the month and the day. It +was February tenth. I have kinder kept up with my age. As near as I can +figure, I am seventy-three years old. I was 18 in 1884 when I married. I +must have been born about 1864, I was brought up under my step father; +he was a very mean man. When he took a notion to he'd whip me and mother +both. + +"My mother was born somewheres in Missouri, but whereabouts I don't +know. One of her masters was John Goodet. His wife was named Eva Goodet. +He was a very mean man and cruel, and his wife was too. My grandmother +belonged to another slaveholder and they would allow her to go to see my +mother. She was allowed to work and do things for which she was given +old clothes and other little things. She would take em and bring em to +my mother. As soon as she had gone, they would take them things away +from my mother, and put em up in the attic and not allow her to wear +them. They would let the clothes rot and mildew before they'd let my +mother wear them. If my mother left a dish dirty--sometimes there would +be butter or flour or something in the dish that would need to be +soaked--they would wait till it was thoroughly soaked and then make her +drink the old dirty dish water. They'd whip her if she didn't drink it. + +"Her other master was named Harrison. He was tolerable but nothing to +bragg on. + +"After she was Jayhawked and brought down South, they sold her to John +Kelly, a man in Arkansas somewhere. She belonged to John Kelly and his +wife when freedom came. John Kelly and his wife kept her working for +them without pay for two years after she was free. They didn't pay her +anything at all. They hardly gave her anything to eat and wear. They +didn't tell her she was free. She saw colored people going and coming +in a way they wasn't used to, and then she heard her Mistress' youngest +daughter tell her mother, 'You ought to pay Hannah something now because +you know she is free as we are. And you ought to give her something to +eat and wear.' The mother said, 'You know I can't do that hard work; +I'm not used to it.' After hearing this my mother talked to the colored +people that would pass by and she learned for _shor_ enough she was +free. + +"There was a colored man there that they were keeping too. One Sunday, +they were taking him to church and leaving my mother behind. She said to +them, 'Well, I will be gone when you come back, so you better leave Bill +here this morning.' Her old mistress said to her, 'Yes; and we'll come +after you and whip you every step of the way back.' But she went while +they were at church and they did not catch her either. + +"The Saturday before that she made me a dress out of the tail of an old +bonnet and a big red handkerchief. Made waist, sleeves and all out of +that old bonnet and handkerchief. She left right after they left for +church, and she dressed me up in my new dress. She put the dress on me +and went down the road. She didn't know which way to go. She didn't know +the way nor which direction to take. She walked and she walked and she +walked. Then she would step aside and listen and ask the way. + +"It was near night when she found a place to stay. The people out in the +yard saw her pass and called to her. It was the youngest daughter of +Mrs. Kelly, the one she had overheard telling her mother she ought to +set her free and pay her. She stayed with John Kelly's daughter two or +three days. I don't know what her name was, only she was a Kelly. Then +she got out among the colored people and got to working and got some +clothes for herself and me. From then on, she worked and taken care of +me. + +"From there she went to Pocahontas and worked and stayed there till I +was about fifteen years old. Meanwhile, she married in Pocahontas. Then +she moved to Newport. When I was fifteen, I married in Newport. My +mother supported herself by cooking and washing. Then she got a chance +to work on a small boat cooking and doing the boat washing, and there +would be weeks that some of the deck hands would have to help her +because they would have such a crowd of raftsmen. Sometimes there would +be twenty or thirty of them raftsmen--men who would cut the logs and +raft them to go and bring them down the river. Then the deck hands would +have to help her. I too would have to wash the dishes and help out. + +"I went to school in Pocahontas and met my future husband (Travis). I +brought many a waiter to serve when they had a crowd. I took Travis to +the boat and he was hired to wait on the men. When they had just the +crew--Captain, Clerk, Pilot, Engineer, Mate, and it seems there was +another one--I waited on the table myself. I help peel the potatoes and +turn the meat. When we had that big run, then Mr. Travis and some of the +others would come down and help me. The boat carried freight, cotton, +and nearly anything might neer that was shipped down to town. Pocahontas +was a big shipping place. + +"My mother said they used to jump over the broom stick and count that +married. The only amusement my mother had was work. I don't know if she +knowed there was such a thing as Christmas. + +"Mother's little house was a log cabin like all the other slaves had. + +"They didn't give her anything much to eat. They was farmers. They +raised their own cattle and hogs. The niggers did the same--that is, the +niggers raised everything and got a little to eat. They had one nigger +man that was around the house and others for the field. They didn't +allow the slaves to raise anything for themselves and they didn't give +them much. + +"The slaves made their own clothes and their own cloth. They would not +let the slaves have anything much. To keep them from being stark naked, +they'd give them a piece to wear. + +"Mama got to see her mother in 1885. When I married she left and went to +Missouri and found her sister and half-sister and her mother and brother +or cousin. She found her sister's oldest daughter. She was a baby laying +in the cradle when mama ran through the field to get away from a young +man that wanted to talk to her. + +"My grandmother was a full-blooded Indian. Her husband was a French +Negro. Nancy Cheatham was her name. + +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They bothered some people about a mile +from us. They took out the old man and whipped him. They made his wife +get up and dance and she was in a delicate state. They made her get out +of bed and dance, and after that they took her and whipped her and beat +her, and she was in a delicate state too. + +"There was a man there in Black Rock though that stopped them from +bothering anybody. He killed one of them. They went to the train. They +was raging around there then. He got off the train and they tried to +take him to jail. The jail was way out through the woods. He hadn't done +anything at all. They just took hold of him to take him to the jail +because he had just come into the town. They had tugged him down the +road and when they got to the woods, he took out his gun and killed one +of them, and the rest left him alone. The man who was killed had a wife +and four or five children. They sent the nigger to the penitentiary. He +stayed there about a year and come out. That broke up the Ku Klux around +Black Rock and Portia. They never seemed to get much enjoyment out of it +after that. + +"I heard from different ones' talk that a big hogshead full of money was +given to the Negroes by the Queen, but they never did get it. I think +they said the queen sent that money. I reckon it was Queen Victoria, but +I don't know. But the white folks got it and kept it for themselves. + +"Didn't nobody have any rights then. They would just put em up on a +block and auction them off. The one that give the most he would take em. +Didn't nobody have no schooling only white folks. The white children +would go to school but they didn't allow her to go. + +"Once there was a slave woman. They worked her day and night. She had a +little log cabin of her own. The spirit used to come to her at night and +tell her if she would follow them she wouldn't have to work all the rest +of her life. At first she was scared. But finally, she got used to them +and she listened to them. She got directions from them and followed +them. She went up into the loft and found a whole lot of money hid +there. She took it and built her a new house and used it. I heard my +grandmother tell this. That was my step-grandmother named Dilsey. + +"One of my bosses had a lot of money and he hid it in a cave. They tried +to find it and to make my mother tell where it was hid, but she didn't +know and couldn't tell. They came back several times and tried to find +him at home but they couldn't catch him. That was in Missouri before +freedom came. + +"I hate my father. He was white. I never did have no use for him. I +never seen him because Mama was jayhawked from the place. I never heard +my mother say much about him either, except that he was red-headed. He +was my mother's master. My mother was just forced. I hate him." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mark C. Trotter, Edmondson, Arkansas +Age: 71 + + +"My owners was Miss Betty and Mr. Luke Trotter. I was born in Tunica +County, Mississippi. I farmed all my whole life. I did like it. One +thing they said about slavery, you couldn't get away. They had dogs and +you get away and have no place to go, nothing to eat. Travel was hard +through the rough wilderness. One owner would notify another about a +runaway. They would take him back or send him word to come get the +runaway. Some of 'em tried to stay in the woods. They said they never +tried to get away. I wasn't born till after freedom. They said they felt +sorry when somebody got beat but they couldn't help it. They had feeling +for their color. + +"I come to Arkansas in 1925. I jus' can make it. I'm sickly. I made my +part, three bales cotton, last year and prices was so low and provisions +so high it is all gone. I don't get no help from the Welfare. + +"I heard old folks set around the fire and spit and talk about them very +things but I got here too late to know well enough to tell it. + +"I recollect when seed was a scarce thing. We had to save all our seed. +The women would swap around. Folks had to raise their own stock. + +"The Ku Klux didn't bother us. + +"I voted here in town. I don't bother the polls no more. I don't own +nothing. + +"Times and folks both been changing all my life. Some things is better +and some people as good as they always been." + + + + +El Dorado District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson (Colored) +Subject: NEGRO FOLKLORE--Uncle James Tubbs +Story:--Information + + +"Well ah wuz born second year after surrender. Some say dat makes me +72 years old. Mah maw only had two boys. Ah am de baby. My pa wuz name +Manger Tubbs. I wuz a purty bad boy. When ah wuz one. Ah use ter hunt. +Use ter catch six and eight possums in one night. Ah use ter love ter +fish. Spunt er many a nite campin and fishin. An playin marbles wuz a +wonderful game in mah days yo knows. Fokes wuzen so wile den. + +"Ah recollect one night we went coon huntin and de boys wuz wanderin +roun and got lost. Some of de boys wuz wanderin roun tryin to git out +and couldn' so ah said: "Dar de seben star yo all jes wait and let me +fine de way out and dey say all right," "We gwina trus yo to fine out a +way out." Went on bout 200 yards and struck our fiel'. We crawled under +fence and went on, struck our coan (corn) fiel'. Den dey all reconcile +wha dey is and ah had a big laff. When ah wuz a boy ah use to drink a +little whiskey. Finally ah said that would be mah ruin. Aftah ah got +oldah ah jess decided ah'd quit. Ah nevah did do no hahm tho. Parents +didn't raise me ter drink, ah jes taken up the habit mahself. Ah use ter +steal Grandma's aigs, He! He! She use ter go ter church and tell us not +to bother anything and fore she got out er sight we'd done gone in de +hen house. We boys git dem eggs and git on out in our play thicket and +roast em and eat em and you know grandma found out where we roast dem +aigs at, and whooe if she didn' whup us. He! He! You know the wurst race +ah evah had in mah life ah wuz comin on fum Spearsville and two coach +whipper wuz layin side de road and you know dem things run me ooo-eee +till ah got tuh a stream and you know ifn hit had not bee fer dat watah +dem things woulder caught me. + +"Coase mah grandma and me had had some putty good races. She tryin' ter +cotch me but ah loves her terday fer dose races we had. Mah ma died when +ah wuz one munt ole. Mah pa married agin and mah step-ma wuz mean to me +so mah grandma come an got me and raised me. Ah hant nevah been in jail. +Haint nevah been rested er nothin. Ah wish the chilluns of terday wuz +like dey wuz when ah wuz a boy. We lived in er two room log house. Our +house had a double chimney and we cooked on dat. You know we'd put a big +back stick uv wood on. Mah pa loved his big back sticks of wood to hold +the fire. Wudden no stoves at that time. We cooked on chimney fires. We +et ash cakes. Hit sho wuz good too. Granma say ash cake wuz healthy. Ah +bleve fokes ought ter eat a few of dem now. We had a putty good school +house made outn logs. Ah stop school when ah wuz in the third grade. Ah +learnt purty fair. We uster have ter take rocks an beat corn ter make +meal. We wud have ter go sometime fifty mile to git ter a griss mill. An +when we couldn't git coan mashed inter meal we wud make hominy and hit +sho wuz good too. + +"Ah use ter card fer granma while she wuz spinnin. We made our socks, +gloves, and thread. We didn' have dat ter buy. When ah wuz a boy +everybody farmed and we had a plenty. Didn' have drouth in does days. + +"Any kine of lan' would produce. Ah use ter get a many lashin bout +pickin cotton. Ah couldn' pick until ah got dem lashins. Some fokes say +lashin don' help but ah clare dey do. + +"Ah use ter pick cotton and sing. Ah can recollect so well de song. Hit +went lak dis: + + Me an' mah wife had a fallin out + She wanted me ter work on de railroad track + Etc. (See enclosed song) + +"Ah jes love ter talk bout when ah wuz a boy. We had a lop cabin fuh a +church house. In dem days on meetin' Sunday fokes would go ter church +and carry de chillun but now not neither the chillun nor dey ma's go +either. + +"Fokes would serve the Lord. Dey would git happy in de fiel' and fall +out choppin, choppin cotton. No sich times as hit wuz now. Aftah all er +mah youth and hardship and goodship the Lord called me ter preach and +when he called me ah answered. Ah wuz comin cross de fiel about 12 +er'clock. Ah tole him ah couldn' preach. Den ah heard a voice above +mah haid. Ah stopped and wondahed and pondered wid mahself knowin' de +condition uv mahself. Ah said, "Lord yo knows ah caint preach." Den ah +made a vow and ah stuck to hit but ah heard nother voice say, "Go and +preach" again. And ah heerd ah nother voice say "Yo go in de mawnin and +pray befo sunrise." Ah goes thar and gits on mah knees and tried ter +pray an ah heard dogs a barkin and chains rattlin an cats mewin and +everthing. Ah had heard ole fokes talk bout when yo go ter pray chains +and things would track yer tenshun. The same happen ter me. Ah want on +and ended mah prayer and yo know ah wuz a glad soul. Ah felt lak ah cud +go an then an do whut the Lawd said. Ah gone on an stahted preachin. Hit +seemed the church wuz so crowded wid so many local preachers ah couldn' +do whut de Lawd wanted me ter so ah ask the pastor ifn ah could run +prayer meetin and he said, "Why chile yes," and ah went on wid de prayer +meetin till ever'body quit his church and come to mah prayer meetin so +den he called mah han', got jealous and made me move mah prayer meetin. +So som good white fokes let me come ovah neah them and start a prayer +meetin so de people followed me and we built a church and hit is yet +dare terday." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mandy Tucker + 1021 E. 11th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80? + + +"I was here in slavery times but I don't know what year I was born. War? +I was in it! + +"I member old master and old mistis too. I member I didn't know nothin' +bout my mother and father cause it was night when they went to work and +night when they come in and we chilluns would be under the bed asleep. + +"I know the white folks had a kitchen full of we chilluns. We went over +to the kitchen to eat. + +"My mother belonged to the Cockrills and my father belonged to the +Armstrongs. They were cousins and their plantations joined. + +"I was large enough to know when they took my parents to Texas, but I +didn't know how serious it was till they was gone. I member peepin' +through the crack of the fence but I didn't know they was takin' em off. + +"They left me with the old doctor woman. She doctored both white and +colored. I stayed there till I was fourteen years old. + +"I know we had our meals off a big wooden tray but we had wooden spoons +to eat with. + +"I member when they was fightin' here at Pine Bluff. I was standin' at +the overseer's bell house waitin' for a doll dress a girl had promised +me and the guns was goin' just like pop guns. We didn't know what it was +to take off our shoes and clothes for six months. We was ready to run if +they broke in on us. + +"The Yankees had their headquarters at the big house near the river. All +this was in woods till I growed up. We used to have our picnic here. + +"I was standin' right at the post when they rung the bell in the bell +house when peace declared. I heered the old folks sayin, 'We is free, we +is free!' + +"I know before freedom they wouldn't let us burn a speck of light at +night. Had these little iron lamps. They'd twist wicks and put em in +tallow. I don't know whether it was beef or sheep tallow but they had +plenty of sheeps on the place. + +"Colonel Cockrill would have us come up to the big house every Sunday +mornin' and he'd give us a apple or a stick of candy. But them that was +big enough to work wouldn't get any. They worked on Sunday too--did the +washin' every Sunday evenin'. + +"Oh lord, they had a big plantation. + +"After the War I went to school some. We had white teachers from the +North. I didn't get to go much except on rainy days. Other times I had +to work. I got so I could read print but I can't read writin'. I used to +could but since I been sick seems like my mind just hops off. + +"After freedom my parents rented land and farmed. I stayed with the old +doctor woman till I was fourteen then I went to my parents. + +"I married when I was eighteen and had five chillun. When I worked for +my father he'd let us quit when we got tired and sit under the shade +bushes. But when I married I had to work harder than ever. My husband +was just a run-around. He'd put in a crop and then go and leave it. +Sometimes he was a constable. Finally he went off and took up with +another woman. + +"I been here in Arkansas all my life except eight months I lived in St. +Louis, but I didn't like it. When I was in St. Louis I know it started +to snow. I thought it was somebody pickin' geese. I said, 'What is +that?' and my granddaughter said, 'Gal, that's snow.' + +"I don't know what to think of the younger generation. I think they is +just goin' out to nothin'. They say they are gettin' weaker and wiser +but I think they are weaker and foolish--they are not wise in the right +way. Some are very good to their parents and some are not. + +"Honey, I don't know how things is goin'--all I know is they is mighty +tight right now." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Emma Turner + 330 W. Sixth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery days. They never did tell me when I +was born but I was ten the seventh day of August the same year we was +freed. + +"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas. I was born in Georgia. I sent +there and got my license to show my age. I was twenty years old when I +married. + +"George Jones was my old master. But, Lawd, them folks is all dead now. +Old master and old missis, yes ma'am, all of 'em dead. + +"Fight 'round us? No, they didn't fight there but they come through +there. Yes ma'am, they come through there. Oh, chile, they got horses +and mules. + +"Used to give us the Confederate money. Wasn't no good though. They got +the silver and gold. Confederate money was white on one side and green +on the other. Yes'm, they was Yankees. + +"Oh, yes'am, old master was good to us. He didn't never marry. My +grandmother was the cook. + +"My mother was born in Virginia. I heerd her talk of the Nat Turner +Rebellion but I never did see him. + +"Our folks stayed right on after freedom and hired by the month. And +hired us children for our victuals and clothes. + +"I stayed there till I was married. Then I come to Vicksburg, +Mississippi. Had nine children and all dead but two. + +"Me? Oh, I done washin' and ironin' mostly, cooked and most anything I +could get to do. I'm all worked down now though. + +"We emigrated from Georgia to Mississippi. All my children born there. + +"I 'member the soldiers had guns and we was scared of 'em. We looked for +'em to come up the road but they come out of the woods and was around +us right now. They didn't mind creeks or nothin', ridin' horseback or +walkin'. I know they said, 'We ain't gwine hurt you.' + +"Old master's mother and father was named Sally and Billy. 'Member 'em? +'Co'se I do--many times as I waited on that table. But they all dead +'fore I even thought about bein' grown. + +"Oh, yes ma'am, we had a plenty to eat. That's the reason I misses it +now. + +"I went to school one year but I had to work so hard I done forgot +nearly everything I learned. I can read a little but my eyes ain't no +good. + +"Dem Ku Klux--you dassent be out after dark. You better not be out on +the street after dark. But Sunday night they didn't bother you when you +went to church. + +"I was raised up with two white girls and their mother didn't 'low us to +get out of the yard. + +"I used to pick peas and cotton. Yes ma'am, that was when we was with +the same old man, George Jones. I used to huddle (herd) cows for miles +and miles. My mother was the milk woman. I don't know how many she +milked but she milked a heap of 'em. + +"Used to climb up in trees and tear our clothes. Then they'd whip us. +Old master say, 'Don't you tell me no lie.' Then old Miss Sally would +get a stick and make out she gwine kill us, but she wouldn't touch us a +lick. + +"Younger generation? Now you done asked me too soon. I set here and look +at 'em. Sometimes I don't know what gwine come of 'em. When we was young +we didn't do nothin' like they doin' now. Why we dassent raise our +dresses. If we see a man comin' we pull down our skirts. Yes, Lawd." + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of interviewer: Watt McKinney +Subject: Ex-Slave and Confederate Soldiers +Story:--Information + +This information given by: "Uncle" Henry Turner (c) +Place of residence: Turner, Phillips County, Arkansas +Occupation: Plantation hand +Age: 93 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + + I'm gettin' old and feeble now and cannot walk no more + And I've laid the rusty-bladed hoe to rest. + + Ole marster and ole missus are sleeping side by side + And their spirits are a-roamin' with the blest. + +The above lines, had they been composed today, might well have been +written with reference to "Uncle" Henry Turner, ninety-three years of +age, of Turner, Arkansas, in Phillips County, and among the very few +remaining ex-slaves, especially of those who were old enough at the time +of their emancipation to have now a clear recollection of conditions, +customs, events, and life during those days long past immediately +proceeding and following the Civil War. "Uncle" Henry's eyes have now +grown dim and he totters slightly as, supported by his cane, he slowly +shuffles along the path over a short distance between the clean, +white-washed cabin where he lives with a daughter and the small, +combination store and post office, on the porch of which he is +accustomed to sit in an old cane-bottomed chair for a few hours each day +and the white folks in passing stop to speak a few words and to buy for +him candy, cold drinks, and tobacco. + +Though "Uncle" Henry is approaching the century mark in age, his mind is +remarkably clear and his recollection is unusually keen. He was born +a slave in northern Mississippi near the small towns of Red Banks and +Byhalia, was the property of his owner. Edmond Turner, and was brought +to Phillips County by "his white folks" some months before the war. +Turner, who owned some fifty other slaves besides Henry, settled with +his family on a large acreage of land that he had purchased about +fifteen miles west of Helena near Trenton. Both Turner and his wife died +soon after taking up residence in Arkansas leaving their estate to their +two sons, Bart and Nat, who were by that time grown young men, and being +very capable and industrious soon developed their property into one of +the most valuable plantations in the County. + +As "Uncle" Henry recalls, the Turner place was, it might be said, a +world within itself, in the confines of which was produced practically +everything essential in the life of its inhabitants and the proper and +successful conduct of its operations. Large herds of cattle, hogs, +sheep, and goats provided a bountiful supply of both fresh and salt +meats and fats. Cotton and wool was carded, spun and woven into cloth +for clothes, fast colored dyes were made by boiling different kinds +of roots and barks, various colored berries were also used for this +purpose. Medicine was prepared from roots, herbs, flowers, and leaves. +Stake and rider fences enclosed the fields and pastures and while most +of the houses, barns and cribs were constructed of logs, some lumber was +manufactured in crude sawmills in which was used what was known as a +"slash saw". This was something like the crosscut saws of today and was +operated by a crank that gave the saw an alternating up and down motion. +Wheat was ground into flour and corn into meal in mills with stone burrs +similar to those used in the rural districts today, and power for this +operation was obtained through the use of a treadmill that was given +its motion by horses or mules walking on an inclined, endless belt +constructed of heavy wooden slats. + +Candles for lighting purposes were made of animal fats combined with +beeswax. Plows, harrows and cultivating implements were made on the +plantation by those Negroes who had been trained in carpentry and +blacksmithing. Plows for breaking the land were sometimes constructed +with a metal point and a wooden moldboard and harrows made of heavy +timbers with large, sharpened wooden pegs for teeth. Hats of straw and +corn shucks were woven by hand. + +Small, crude cotton gins were powered by horses or mules hitched to a +beam fastened to an upright shaft around which they traveled in a circle +and to which was attached large cogwheels that multiplied the animal's +power enormously and transmitted it by means of belt to the separating +machinery where the lint was torn from the seed. No metal ties were +available during this period and ropes of cotton were used to bind +the bales of lint. About three bales was the daily capacity of a +horse-powered plantation gin. + +It was often difficult to obtain the services of a competent doctor and +except in cases of serious illness home remedies were administered. + +Churches were established in different communities throughout the +County and the Negro slaves were allowed the privilege of attending the +services, certain pews being set apart for them, and the same minister +that attended the spiritual needs of the master and his family rendered +like assistant to his slaves. + +No undertaking establishments existed here at this time and on the death +of a person burial was made in crude caskets built of rough cypress +planks unless the deceased was a member of a family financially able to +afford the expensive metal caskets that were available no nearer than +Memphis. "Uncle" Henry Turner recalls the death of Dan Wilborn's little +six-year-old boy, Abby, who was accidentally killed when crushed by a +heavy gate on which he was playing, and his burial in what "Uncle" Henry +described as a casket made of the same material as an old-fashioned door +knob; and while I have no other authority than this on the subject, +it is possible that in that day caskets were made of some vitrified +substance, perhaps clay, and resembling the present day tile. + +The planters and slaveowners of this period obtained the greater share +of their recreation in attendance at political rallies, horse races, and +cock fights. Jobe Dean and Gus Abington who came to Trenton from their +home near La Grange, Tennessee were responsible for the popularity of +these sports in Phillips County and it was they who promoted the most +spectacular of these sporting events and in which large sums of money +were wagered on the horses and the game cocks. It is said that Marve +Carruth once owned an Irish Grey Cock on which he bet and won more than +five thousand dollars one afternoon at Trenton. + +No Negro slave was allowed to go beyond the confines of his owner's +plantation without written permission. This was described by "Uncle" +Henry Turner as a "pass"; and on this "pass" was written the name of the +Negro, the place he was permitted to visit, and the time beyond which he +must not fail to return. It seems that numbers of men were employed by +the County or perhaps by the slaveowners themselves whose duty it was +to patrol the community and be on constant watch for such Negroes who +attempted to escape their bondage or overstayed the time limit noted on +their "pass". Such men were known then as "Paddy Rolls" by the Negroes +and in the Southern states are still referred to by this name. +Punishment was often administered by them, and the very mention of the +name was sufficient to cause stark terror and fear in the hearts of +fugitive slaves. + +At some time during that period when slavery was a legal institution in +this country, the following verse was composed by some unknown author +and set to a tune that some of the older darkies can yet sing: + + Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you + Run nigger run, it's almost day. + That nigger run, that nigger flew + That nigger tore his shirt into. + Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you + Run nigger run, it's almost day. + +Both Bart Turner and his brother Nat enlisted in the services of the +Confederacy. Nat Turner was a member of the First Arkansas Volunteers, +a regiment organized at Helena and of which Patrick R. Cleburne was +colonel. Dick Berry and Milt Wiseman, friends and neighbors of the +Turners, also volunteered and enlisted in Cleburne's command. These +three stalwart young men from Phillips County followed Cleburne +and fought under his battle flag on those bloody fields at Shiloh, +Murfreesboro, Ringgold gap, and Atlanta; and they were with him that day +in November in front of the old gin house at Franklin as the regiment +formed for another and what was to be their last charge. The dead lay +in heaps in front of them and almost filled the ditch around the +breastworks, but the command though terribly cut to pieces was forming +as cooly as if on dress parade. Above them floated a peculiar flag, +a field of deep blue on which was a crescent moon and stars. It was +Cleburne's battle flag and well the enemy knew it; they had seen it +so often before. "I tip my hat to that flag" said the Federal General +Sherman years after the war. "Whenever my men saw it they knew it meant +fight." As the regiment rushed on the Federal breastworks a gray clad +figure on a chestnut horse rode across the front of the moving column +and toward the enemy's guns. The horse went down within fifty yards of +the breastworks. The rider arose, waved his sword, and led his men on +foot to the very ramparts. Then he staggered and fell, pierced with a +dozen balls. It was Cleburne, the peerless field-marshal of Confederate +brigade commanders. The Southern cause suffered a crushing defeat at +Franklin and the casualty list recorded the names of Nat Turner, Dick +Berry, and Milt Wiseman, who like their beloved commander had given +their life for their country. There is an inscription on the stone base +of the magnificent bronze statue of General N. B. Forrest astride his +war horse in Forrest Park in Memphis that could well be placed above +the graves of Cleburne, Turner, Berry, and Wiseman, those brave, heroic +soldiers from Phillips County. The inscription in verse is as follows: + + Those hoof beats die not on fame's crimson sod + But will live on in song and in story. + He fought like a Trojan and struck like a god + His dust is our ashes of glory. + + + + +Interviewer: Zillah Cross Peel +Information given by: Seabe Tuttle +Residence: Washington County, seven miles east of Fayetteville. + + +Seabe Tuttle who was born in slavery in 1859, belonged to James +Middleton Tuttle of Richland, which was about seven miles east of +Fayetteville. + +"I was just a baby when the war was but I do recollect a lot of things +that my ma told me about the War. Our folks all come from Tennessee. My +mother was named Esther, she belonged to Ole Man Tom Smith who gived +her to Miss Evaline, who was Mister Mid Tuttle's wife. The Tuttles and +Smiths lived joining farms." + +"You see, Mister Tuttle was a colonel in the Confederate army and when +he went off with the army he left all his slaves and stock in care of +Mr. Lafe Boone. Miss Mollie and Miss Nannie, and Miss Jim and another +daughter I disrecolect her her name, all went in carriages and wagons +down south following the Confederate army. They took my pa, Mark, and +other servants, my mother's sister, Americus and Barbary. They told them +they would bring them back home after the War. Then my mother and me and +the other darkies, men and women and children, followed them with the +cattle and horses and food. But us didn't get no further than Dardanelle +when the Federals captured us and took us back to the Federal garrison +at Ft. Smith, where they kept us six months. Yes'm they were good to us +there. We would get our food at the com'sary. But one day my ma and my +sister, Mandy, found a white man that said he would bring us back to +Fayetteville. No'm, I disremember his name." + +"We found us a cabin to live in here. Didn't have to pay rent then likes +they do now. We lived here but after a while my mother died. They had +two battles 'round here, the Battle of Prairie Grave and one was the +Battle of Pea Ridge, after we comed back but no soldiers bothered us. I +remember that back from where the Christian church is now, down to the +Town Branch, there was a whole lot of Federal soldiers staying, they +called it then Cato Branch, cause a man by the name of Cato owned all +that land." + +"Yes'm, I guess we had a purty good master and missus. We never did get +treated much rough." + +"After the War, Miss Evaline brought back all the colored people that +she took with her, but my father. He got married down there and didn't +come back for a long time. Then he did and died here. Two of Miss +Eveline's daughters married down there. They didn't have no boys 'tall, +just four girls." + +"When Peace was made the slaves all scattered. We none was givin' +nothin' for as I know. I worked on a farm for $13. a month and my board, +for a man down at Oxford's Bend, then I went down to Van Buren where I +worked as a porter in a hotel then I went to Morrilton and I married. We +come back here and I worked all the time as a carpenter. I worked for +Mister A.M. Byrnes. I helped build a lot of fine houses round here and I +helped put a roof on the Main Building at the University." + +"Yes'm, I own my home down by the school, I can't make much money these +days. It kinda worries me. My folks all dead but three of my brothers +children. One of these is blind. He lives on the old home my mother had. +The county gives him a little food and a little money." + +"Yes'm, my white folks were all good to us. Purty good to us." + +"After Peace was made though, we all jes' scattered, somehow." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: Arkansas Narratives +by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11709 *** diff --git a/11709-h/11709-h.htm b/11709-h/11709-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..51d558d --- /dev/null +++ b/11709-h/11709-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10729 @@ + +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg EBook of Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936-1938: +Arkansas Narratives, Volume II, Part 6</title> +<meta name="author" content="Federal Writers' Project"> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11709 ***</div> + +<p>[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note</p> +<p>[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br> + +<h1>SLAVE NARRATIVES</h1> +<br> + +<h2><i>A Folk History of Slavery in the United States<br> +From Interviews with Former Slaves</i></h2> +<br> + + +<h4>TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY<br> +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT<br> +1936-1938<br> +ASSEMBLED BY<br> +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT<br> +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION<br> +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA<br> +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</h4> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>WASHINGTON 1941</p> +<br><br><br> + +<h2>VOLUME II</h2> + +<h2>ARKANSAS NARRATIVES</h2> + +<h2>PART 6</h2> + + + +<h3>Prepared by<br> +the Federal Writers' Project of<br> +the Works Progress Administration<br> +for the State of Arkansas</h3> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>INFORMANTS</h2> + +<a href="#QuinnDoc">Quinn, Doc</a><br> +<a href="#QuinnDoc2">Quinn, Doc</a> + [TR: more stories]<br> +<br> +<a href="#RallsHenrietta">Ralls, Henrietta</a><br> +<a href="#RankinsDiana">Rankins, Diana</a><br> +<a href="#RassberrySenia">Rassberry, Senia</a><br> +<a href="#ReavesClay">Reaves, Clay</a><br> +<a href="#ReeceJane">Reece, Jane</a><br> +<a href="#ReedFrank">Reed, Frank</a><br> +<a href="#ReevesJames">Reeves, James</a><br> +<a href="#RhoneShepherd">Rhone, Shepherd</a><br> +<a href="#RichardDora">Richard, Dora</a><br> +<a href="#RicksJim">Ricks, Jim</a><br> +<a href="#RiggerCharlie">Rigger, Charlie</a><br> +<a href="#RigleyIda">Rigley, Ida</a><br> +<a href="#RitchieMilton">Ritchie, Milton</a><br> +<a href="#RiversAlice">Rivers, Alice</a><br> +<a href="#RobertsJ">Roberts, Rev. J.</a><br> +<a href="#RobertsonGeorge">Robertson (Robinson?), George</a><br> +<a href="#RobinsonAugustus">Robinson, Augustus</a><br> +<a href="#RobinsonMalindy">Robinson, Malindy</a><br> +<a href="#RobinsonTom">Robinson, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#RogersIsom">Rogers, Isom</a><br> +<a href="#RogersOscarJames">Rogers, Oscar James</a><br> +<a href="#RogersWillAnn">Rogers, Will Ann</a><br> +<a href="#RooksWilliamHenry">Rooks, William Henry</a><br> +<a href="#RossAmanda">Ross, Amanda</a><br> +<a href="#RossCat">Ross, Cat</a><br> +<a href="#RossMattie">Ross, Mattie</a><br> +<a href="#RowlandLaura">Rowland, Laura</a><br> +<a href="#RuckerLandy">Rucker, Landy</a><br> +<a href="#RuffinMartha">Ruffin, Martha</a><br> +<a href="#RuffinThomas">Ruffin, Thomas</a><br> +<a href="#RumpleCasper">Rumple, Casper</a><br> +<a href="#RussellHenry">Russell, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#RyeKatie">Rye, Katie</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#SamuelsBob">Samuels, Bob</a><br> +<a href="#SandersonEmma">Sanderson, Emma</a><br> +<a href="#ScottMary">Scott, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#ScottMollieHardy">Scott, Mollie Hardy</a><br> +<a href="#ScottSam">Scott, Sam</a><br> +<a href="#ScrogginsCora">Scroggins, Cora</a><br> +<a href="#SextonSarah">Sexton, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#ShaverRoberta">Shaver, Roberta</a><br> +<a href="#ShawMary">Shaw, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#ShawViolet">Shaw, Violet</a><br> +<a href="#SheltonFrederick">Shelton, Frederick</a><br> +<a href="#SheltonLaura">Shelton, Laura</a><br> +<a href="#ShoresMahalia">Shores, Mahalia</a><br> +<a href="#SimmonsRosa">Simmons, Rosa</a><br> +<a href="#SimsFannie">Sims, Fannie</a><br> +<a href="#SimsJerry">Sims, Jerry</a><br> +<a href="#SimsVictoria">Sims, Victoria</a><br> +<a href="#SimsVirginia">Sims, Virginia</a><br> +<a href="#SingfieldSenya">Singfield, Senya</a><br> +<a href="#SloanPeggy">Sloan, Peggy</a><br> +<a href="#SmallwoodArzella">Smallwood, Arzella</a><br> +<a href="#SmileySarah">Smiley, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#SmithAndrew">Smith, Andrew</a><br> +<a href="#SmithCaroline1">Smith, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#SmithCaroline2">Smith, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#SmithEdmond">Smith, Edmond</a><br> +<a href="#SmithEmmaHulett">Smith, Emma Hulett</a><br> +<a href="#SmithErvinE">Smith, Ervin E.</a><br> +<a href="#SmithFrances">Smith, Frances</a><br> +<a href="#SmithHenriettaEvelina">Smith, Henrietta Evelina</a><br> +<a href="#SmithHenry">Smith, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#SmithJL">Smith, J.L.</a><br> +<a href="#SmithJohnH">Smith, John H.</a><br> +<a href="#SnowMaggieCharlie">Snow, Charlie and Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#SolomonRobert">Solomon, Robert</a><br> +<a href="#SpikesJames">Spikes, James</a><br> +<a href="#StanfordKittie">Stanford, Kittie</a><br> +<a href="#StanhouseTom">Stanhouse, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#StarnesIsom">Starnes, Isom</a><br> +<a href="#SteelHezekiah">Steel, Hezekiah (Ky)</a><br> +<a href="#StenhouseMaggie">Stenhouse, Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#StephensCharlotteE">Stephens, Charlotte E.</a><br> +<a href="#StevensWilliamJ">Stevens, William J.</a><br> +<a href="#StewartMinnieJohnson">Stewart, Minnie Johnson</a><br> +<a href="#StiggersLiza">Stiggers, Liza</a><br> +<a href="#StithJamesHenry">Stith, James Henry</a><br> +<a href="#StoutCaroline">Stout, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#StreetFelix">Street, Felix</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#TabonMary">Tabon, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#TannerLizaMoore">Tanner, Liza Moore</a><br> +<a href="#TatumFannie">Tatum, Fannie</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorAnthony">Taylor, Anthony</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorLula">Taylor, Lula</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorMillie">Taylor, Millie</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorSarah">Taylor, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorWarren">Taylor, Warren</a><br> +<a href="#TeagueSneed">Teague, Sneed</a><br> +<a href="#TeelMary">Teel, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#ThermonWade">Thermon, Wade</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasDicey">Thomas, Dicey</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasMandy">Thomas, Mandy</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasOmelia1">Thomas, Omelia</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasOmelia2">Thomas, Omelia</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasTanner">Thomas, Tanner</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasWester">Thomas, Wester</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonAnnie">Thompson, Annie</a> + [TR: Corrected from "Thomas"]<br> +<a href="#ThompsonEllenBriggs">Thompson, Ellen Briggs</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonHattie">Thompson, Hattie</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonMamie">Thompson, Mamie</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonMike">Thompson, Mike</a><br> +<a href="#ThorntonLaura">Thornton, Laura</a><br> +<a href="#TidwellEmma">Tidwell, Emma (Bama?)</a><br> +<a href="#TillmanJoe">Tillman, Joe</a><br> +<a href="#TimsJT">Tims, J.T.</a><br> +<a href="#TravisHannah">Travis, Hannah</a><br> +<a href="#TrotterMarcC">Trotter, Mark C.</a><br> +<a href="#TubbsJames">Tubbs, James</a><br> +<a href="#TuckerMandy">Tucker, Mandy</a><br> +<a href="#TurnerEmma">Turner, Emma</a><br> +<a href="#TurnerHenry">Turner, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#TuttleSeabe">Tuttle, Seabe</a><br> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="QuinnDoc"></a> +<h3>Texarkana District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland<br> +Subject: Social Customs—Reminiscences of an Ex-Slave<br> +Subject: Foods<br> +<br> +This Information given by: Doc Quinn<br> +Place of Residence: 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: None [TR: also reported as Ex-slave.]<br> +Age: 93 [TR: also reported as 94.]</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]<br> +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> + +<p>Several months ago, I called at 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas +where I had been informed a voluble old negro lived. An aged, +gray-haired, negro woman came to the door and informed me her father was +in the wood shed at the back of the house. Going around to the wood shed +I found him busily engaged in storing his winter supply of wood. When I +made known my mission he readily agreed to answer all my questions as +best he could. Seating himself on a block of wood, he told this almost +incredible story, along with lengthy discourses on politics, religion +and other current events:</p> + +<p>"I wuz born March 15, 1843, in Monroe County, Mississippi, near +Aberdeen, Mah Mahster wuz Colonel Ogburn, one ob de bigges' planters in +de state of Mississippi. Manys de time he raised so much cotton dat dem +big steamers just couldnt carry it all down to N'Awlins in one year. But +den along came de Civil War an' we didn't raise nothin' fo' several +years. Why? Becase most uf us jined the Confederate Army in Colonel +Ogburn's regiment as servants and bodyguards. An' let me tell yo' +somethin', whitefolks. Dere never wuz a war like dis war. Why I 'member +dat after de battle of Corinth, Miss., a five acre field was so thickly +covered wid de dead and wounded dat yo' couldn't touch de ground in +walkin' across it. And de onliest way to bury dem wuz to cut a deep +furrow wid a plow, lay de soldiers head to head, an' plow de dirt back +on dem."</p> + +<p>"About a year after de war started de Mahster got one ob dese A.W.O.L.'s +frum de Army so we could come to Miller County, where he bought de place +on Red River now known as de Adams Farm."</p> + +<p>"When we fust came here dis place, as well as de rest ob de Valley, wuz +just a big canebrake—nothin' lived in dere but bears, wolves, and +varmints. Why de Mahster would habe to round up de livestock each +afternoon, put dem in pens, and den put out guards all night to keep de +wolves and bears frum gettin' em. De folks didn't go gallivatin' round +nights like dey do now or de varmints would get them. But den we didn't +stay here but a few months until de Mahster's A.W.O.L. wuz up, so we had +to go back and jine de army. We fought in Mississippi Alabama, Georgia, +and South Carolina."</p> + +<p>"When de war ended de Mahster moved us to Miller County, but not on de +Adams farm. For de man whut used to own de farm said Uncle Sam hadn't +made any such money as wuz paid him for de farm, so he wanted his farm +back. Dat Confederate money wuzn't worth de paper it wuz printed on, so +de Mahster had to gib him back de farm. Poor Massa Ogburn—he didn't +live long after dat. He and his wife are buried side by side in Rondo +Cemetery."</p> + +<p>"Not long after de negroes wuz freed, I took 86 ob dem to de votin' +place at Homan and voted 'em all straight Democratic. On my way back +home dat evenin' five negroes jumped frum de bushes and stopped me. Dey +'splained dat I wuz too 'fluential wid de negroes and proceeded to +string me up by de neck. I hollers as loud as I could, and Roy Nash and +Hugh Burton, de election officers, just happen to be comin' down de road +and hear me yell. Dey ran off de niggers and cut me down, but by dat +time I had passed out. It wuz several weeks befo' I got well, and I can +still feel dat rope 'round my neck. Iffen dey had known how to tie a +hangmans knot I wouldn't be here to tell you about it."</p> + +<p>"It wuzn't long after dis dat I jined Colonel' Baker's Gang for +'tection. 'Colonel' Baker wuz a great and brave man and did mo' fo de +white folks of dis country den any other man. Why iffen it hadn't been +fo' him de white folks couldn't hab lived in dis country, de negroes wuz +so mean. Dey wuz so mean dat dey tied heavy plow shoes aroun' de necks +ob two little white boys and threw dem in de lake. Yes suh. I wuz dere."</p> + +<p>"And another time I wuz wid a bunch of niggers when dey wuz plannin' on +killin a white man who wuz a friend ob mine. As soon as I could I slips +away and tips him off. When I got back one ob dem niggers looks at me +suspicious like and asks, "where yo been, nigger?" I wuz shakin' like a +leaf in a storm, but I says: "I ain't been nowhere—just went home to +get some cartridges to help kill dis white man."</p> + +<p>"Not long after I jined Colonel Baker's Gang, we wuz comin' frum Fulton +to Clipper through de Red River bottoms. De river wuz overflowin' an' as +we wuz crossin' a deep, swift slough, Colonel Baker and his horse got +tangled up in some grape vines. Colonel Baker yelled, and I turned my +mule around and cut all de grape vine loose wid my Bowie knife. Dere +ain't nothin' like a mule for swimmin'. Dey can swim circles aroun' any +horse. As long as he lived, Colonel Baker was always grateful to me fo' +savin' his life."</p> + +<p>"De Colonel hated de sight ob mean niggers. We would ride up to a negro +settlement, and tell de niggers we wuz organizing a colored militia to +catch Cullen Baker and his gang. Most ob de negroes would join, but some +ob dem had to be encouraged by Colonel Baker's big gun. De recruits +would be lined up in an open field fo' drilling. And dey sho wuz +drilled. Colonel Baker and his men would shoot them by the score. Dey +killed 53 at Homan, Arkansas, 86 at Rocky Comfort, (Foreman) Arkansas, 6 +near Ogden, Arkansas, 6 on de Temple place, 62 at Jefferson, Texas, 100 +in North Louisiana, 73 at Marshall, Texas, and several others."</p> + +<p>"All of de big planters wuz friendly to Cullen Baker. I have carried +supplies many times frum de big plantations—Hervey, Glass, and +others—to Cullen Baker. De Colonel always carried a big double-barrel +shotgun. It must have been de biggest shotgun in de world, not less den +a number eight size. He whipped 16 soldiers at Old Boston wid dis gun +one time."</p> + +<p>"I saw Colonel Baker killed. We had just arrived at his father-in-law's +house and I wuz in the horse lot, about 50 yards from de house, when Joe +Davis. Thomas Orr and some more men rode up."</p> + +<p>"De Colonel wuz standin' by de chimney an did not see dem come aroun' de +house. Dey killed him befo' he knew dey wuz aroun'. One ob de men asked +Mr. Foster, "Where at dat d—n nigger?" I ducked down and crawled in +under de rail fence and ran—I didn't stop 'til I wuz deep in the +Sulphur River bottoms. Every minute my heart seemed like it wuz goin' to +jump right out uv my mouth. I wuz the worst scared nigger that ever +lived."</p> + +<p>"I have lived many years since dat time. De times and ways of livin' +have changed. I 'member killing deer where the Texarkana National Bank +stands, way befo' Texarkana wuz even thought of. This place wuz one of +my favorite deer stands. Nix Creek used to be just full ob fish. What +used to be the best fishing hole aroun' here is now covered by the +Methodist Church (Negro), in East Texarkana. Dr. Weetten had a big fine +home out where Springlake Park is. He wuz killed when thrown by a +buckin' horse. All of de young people I knew den have been dead many +years."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Foods</b></p> + +<p>The question of eating special food on a particular day immediately +brings in mind Thanksgiving Day, when turkey becomes the universal dish. +Perhaps no other day in the year can be so designated, except among a +few religious orders when the eating of meat is strictly prohibited on +certain days.</p> + +<p>The belief that negroes are particularly addicted to eating pork is well +founded, as witness the sales of pork to colored people in most any meat +market. But who could imagine that cotton-seed was once the universal +food eaten in this vicinity by the colored people? That, according to +Doc Quinn, a former slave, and self-styled exmember of Cullen Baker's +Gang, was the custom before and shortly after the Civil War.</p> + +<p>The cotton-seed would be dumped into a hugh pot, and boiled for several +hours, the seed gradually rising to the top. The seed would then be +dipped off with a ladle. The next and final step would be to pour +corn-meal into the thick liquid, after which it was ready to be eaten. +Cotton-seed, it must be remembered, had little value at that time, +except as livestock feed.</p> + +<p>"Yes suh, Cap'n," the old negro went on to explain. "I has never eaten +anything whut tasted any better, or whut would stick to your ribs like +cotton-seed, and corn-meal cake. Rich? Why dey's nuthin dat is more +nutritious. You never saw a healthier or finer lookin' bunch of negroes +dan wuz on Colonel Harvey's place."</p> + +<p>"I 'member one time tho' when he changed us off cotton-seed, but we +didn't stay changed fo' long. No suh. Of all de grumblin' dem niggers +did, becase dey insides had got so used to dat cotton-seed and corn-meal +dey wouldn't be satisfied wid nothing else."</p> + +<p>"One mornin' when about forty of us niggers had reported sick, de +Mahster came down to de qua'ters. 'Whut ailin' ye' lazy neggers?' he +asked. Dem niggers los' about fifty pounds of weight apiece, and didn' +feel like doin' anything. 'Mahster,' I say. 'Iffen you'll have de wimmen +folks make us a pot full of dat cotton-seed and corn-meal, we'll be +ready to go to work.' And as long as I work fo' Colonel Harvey, one uv +de bes' men whut ever lived, we always had cotton-seed and corn-meal to +eat."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="QuinnDoc2"></a> +<h3>Texarkana District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Mrs. W.M. Ball<br> +Subject: Anecdotes of an Aged Ex-Slave.<br> +Subject: Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes. (Negro lore)<br> +Story:—Information:<br> +<br> +Information given by: Doc Quinn<br> +Place of Residence: 12th & Ash Sts., Texarkana, Ark.<br> +Occupation: None (Ex-Slave)<br> +Age: 92</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.]<br> +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> + +<p>"Mah young marster wuz Joe Ogburn. Me and him growed up togedder an' I +wuz his body guard durin' de wahr. Many's de day I'ze watched de smoke +ob battle clear away an' wait fo' de return ob mah marster. All de time +I felt we wuz born to win dat wahr, but God knowed bes' an' you know de +result.</p> + +<p>"Three years ago I went to Little Rook wid Mr. Fisher. Lac' all folks +whut goes to dis city, we wend our way to de Capitol to see de Governor. +Gov. Futtrell sittin' bac' in his great fine office, saw me and jined me +in conversation. De fus' question he axed me wuz 'whut party does yo' +'filiate wif?' I sez, 'de Democrat—de party whut's a frien' to de +nigger.' De Governor axed me how does I lac' dis life? I sez 'very well, +tho' things has changed since slavery days. Those wuz good ole days for +de black man; didn't hafter worry about nuthin'. Now, I sho' does mah +share ob worryin'. I worries from one meal to de odder, I worries about +whure I'ze gwine get some mo' clothes when dese wears out?'</p> + +<p>"I tole de Governor mah 'sperience wif de Republican Party durin' de +wahr. I been hung fo' times in mah life an' one ob de times by de +Republicans. Long time ago, Mr. Roy Nash an' Mr. Hugh Sutton wuz a +settin' ovah de ballot box on 'lection day, when I voted 80 Democrats. +Yas, suh; I jus' marches 'em in an' tells 'em how to cas' dey vote. Dat +night, on mah way home frum de votin', goin' down de lonely road, I wuz +stopped an' strung up to a tree by de neck. Dey 'splained dat I wuz too +'fluential wid de niggers. When I wuz hangin' dere I did some manful +howlin'. Dat howlin' sho brought de white folks. When dey see mah +distres' dey 'leased de rope an' I wuz saved. Dat is when I 'pealed to +Col. Baker for 'tection. He wuz mah frien' as long as he lib, and he wuz +a good frien' ob de South 'cause he saved lots ob white folks frum de +wrath ob de mean niggers."</p> + +<p>(Note: The Col. Baker referred to was Cullen Baker, the leader of a +ruthless gang of bushwhackers that operated in this section shortly +after the Civil War.)</p> + +<p>Doc Quinn tells a "ghost story" connected with the old church at Rondo, +built in 1861.</p> + +<p>"De Masonic Hall wuz built up ovah dis buildin' an' ever month dey had +dey meetin'. One night, when dey was 'sembled, two men wuz kilt. Dat +sho' did scatter dat lot ob Masons and frum dat time on de spirits ob +dese men roamed dis chu'ch. Sometime in de dead ob night, dat bell wud +ring loud an' clear, wakin' all de folks. Down dey wud come, clos' like, +to de chu'ch,—but scared to go closer. Mr. Bill Crabtree, a rich man +an' a man whut wuz scared too, offered anybody $100.00 to go inside dat +chu'ch an' stay one hour. Didn't nobody need dat $100.00 dat bad!"</p> + +<p>The old negro tells the following grave yard story:</p> + +<p>"One dark, drizzly night, de niggers wuz out in de woods shootin' craps. +I didn't hab no money to jine in de game. One nigger say, "Doc, effen +you go down to de cemetey' an' bring bac' one ob dem 'foot boa'ds' frum +one ob dem graves, we'll gib yo' a dollar." I ambles off to de cemete'y, +'cause I really needed dat money. I goes inside, walks careful like, not +wantin' to distu'b nuthin', an' finally de grave stone leapt up in front +ob me. I retches down to pick up de foot boa'd, an' lo! de black cats +wuz habin' a meetin' ovah dat grave an' dey objected to mah intrudin', +but I didn't pay 'em no mind; jus' fetched dat boa'd bac' to dem +niggers, an'—bless de Lawd,—dey gib me two dollars!"</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes</b></p> + +<p>Some aged Negroes believe that many of the superstitious ideas that are +practiced by their race today had their origin in Africa. A practice +that was quite common in ante bellum days was for each member of the +family to extract all of their teeth, in the belief that in doing so the +family would never disagree. Fortunately, this and similar practices of +self mutilation have about become extinct.</p> + +<p>An old custom practiced to prevent the separation of a husband and wife +was to wrap a rabbit's forefoot, a piece of loadstone, and 9 hairs from +the top of the head in red flannel, and bury it under the front door +steps.</p> + +<p>As a preventitive against being tricked or hoo-dooed, punch a hole +through a dime, insert a string through the hole, and tie it around the +left ankle.</p> + +<p>To carry an axe or hoe into the house means bad luck. An itching nose +indicates some one is coming to see you, while an itching eye indicates +you will cry.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RallsHenrietta"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Henrietta Ralls<br> + 1 Fluker St.<br> + Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 88</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Mississippi, Lee +County, March 10, 1850. Come to Arkansas when I was ten years old. Had +to walk. My old master was Henry Ralls. Sometimes we jump up in the +wagon and he'd whip us out.</p> + +<p>"My old mistes name was Drunetta. She was good to us. We called her Miss +Netta. Old master was mean. He'd whip us. One day he come along and +picked up sand and throwed it in my eyes. He was a mean old devil. He +thought I was scared of him. Cose I was. That was before the war.</p> + +<p>"I recollect when the Yankees come. I knowed they was a'ridin'. White +folks made me hide things. I hid a barrel of wool once—put meal on top. +They'd a'took it ever bit if they could have found it. They wanted +chickens and milk. They'd take things they wanted—they would that. +Would a'taken ever bit of our wool if they could have found it.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't talk to old mistes—just talk to me and ask where things +was. She didn't notice them and they didn't notice her.</p> + +<p>"I reckon the Lord intended for the Yankees to free the people. They was +fightin' to free the people.</p> + +<p>"I hear em say war is still goin' on in the world.</p> + +<p>"The owners was tryin' to hide the colored people. Our white folks took +some of us clear out in Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' em. Miss +Liza was Miss Netta's daughter and she was mean as her old daddy. She +said, 'Oh, yes, you little devils, you thought you was goin' to be free! +She had a good brother though. He wanted to swap a girl for me so I +could be back here with my mammy, but Miss Liza wouldn't turn me loose. +No sir, she wouldn't.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I hired out—cooked, milked cows and washed and ironed.</p> + +<p>"I went back to Mississippi and stayed with my father. Old Henry Ralls +sold my father fore we come to Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"I never been married. I could have married, but I didn't. I don't know +hardly why.</p> + +<p>"I been makin' my own livin' pretty much since I left my father.</p> + +<p>"Biggest majority of younger generation looks like they tryin' to get a +education and tryin' to make a livin' with their brain without usin' +their hands. But I'd rather use my hands—cose I would.</p> + +<p>"I went to school some after the war, but I had to pay for it.</p> + +<p>"I been disabled bout five or six years. Got to have somethin' to take +us away, I guess."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RankinsDiana"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Diana Rankins, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 66</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born at Arlington, Tennessee but when I was a chile the depot was +called With. My parents' name Sarah and Solomon Green. There was seven +girls and one boy of us. My sister died last year had two children old +as I was. I was the youngest chile. Folks mated younger than they do now +and seem like they had better times when there was a big family.</p> + +<p>"Adam Turnover in Charleston, South Carolina owned my papa. When he died +they sold him. He was one year and six months old when he was sold.</p> + +<p>"I think S.C. Bachelor, around Brownsville, Tennessee, owned mama first. +She said they put her upon the block and sold her and her mother was +crying. The man after he sold her ask her if she didn't want him to sell +her. She said she didn't care but said she knowed she was afraid to say +she cared cause she was crying. She never seen her mama no more. She was +carried off on a horse. She was a little girl then. General Hayes bought +her and he bought papa too. They played together. General Hayes made the +little boys run races so he could see who could run the fastest.</p> + +<p>"Papa said they picked him up and carried him off. He said they pressed +him into the breastworks of the war. He didn't want to go to war. Mr. +Hayes kept him hid out but they stole him and took him to fight. He come +home. He belong to Jack Hayes, General Hayes' son. They called him Mr. +Jack or Mr. Hayes when freedom come. Mr. Jack sent him to Como, +Mississippi to work and to Duncan, Arkansas to work his land. I was +fifteen years old when we come to Arkansas. Mr. Walker Hayes that was +president of the Commercial Appeal over at Memphis lost his land. We +been from place to place over Arkansas since then. Mr. Walker was +General Hayes' grandson. We worked field hands till then, we do anything +since. I nursed some for Mr. Charles Williams in Memphis. I have done +house work. I got two children. My son got one leg off. I live with him. +This little gran'boy is the most pleasure to us all.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never did interfere with us. They never come to our house. +I have seen them.</p> + +<p>"When papa come from war it was all over. We knowed it was freedom. +Everybody was in a stir and talking and going somewhere. He had got his +fill of freedom in the war. He said turn us all out to freeze and +starve. He stayed with the Hayes till he died and mama died and all of +us scattered out when Mr. Walker Hayes lost his land.</p> + +<p>"Ladies used to be too fine to be voting. I'm too old now. My men-folks +said they voted. They come home and say how they voted all I know about +voting.</p> + +<p>"Walker Avenue in Memphis is named for Mr. Walker Hayes and Macremore +was named for him or by him one.</p> + +<p>"We never was give a thing at freedom but papa was buying a place from +his master and got in debt and sold it. I don't own a home.</p> + +<p>"I have high blood pressure and the Welfare gives me $8 a month. I'm not +able to work. When you been used to a good plenty it is mighty bad to +get mighty near helpless."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RassberrySenia"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Senia Rassberry<br> + 810 Catalpa Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I know what I hear em say. Well, in slavery times I helped make +the soldiers' clothes.</p> + +<p>"I was born on the old Jack Hall place on the Arkansas River in +Jefferson County.</p> + +<p>"I know I was 'leven years old when peace declared. I reckon I can +member fore the War started. I know I was bastin' them coats and pants.</p> + +<p>"My old master's name was Jack Hall and old mistress' name was +Priscilla. Oh, yes'm, they was good to me—just as good to me as they +could be. But ever' once in awhile they'd call me and say, 'Senia.' I'd +say, 'What you want?' They say, 'Wasn't you out there doin' so and so?' +I'd say, 'No.' They say, 'Now, you're tellin' a lie' and they'd whip me.</p> + +<p>"I was the house girl, me and my sister. My mammy was the cook.</p> + +<p>"Old master had two plantations. Sometimes he had a overseer and +sometimes he didn't.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they had plenty to eat, hog meat and cracklin' bread. Yes ma'am. I +loved that, I reckon. I et so much of it then I don't hardly ever want +it now. They had so much to eat. Blackberry cobbler? Oh Lawd.</p> + +<p>"How many brothers and sisters? Me? My dear, I don't know how many I had +but I heard my mother say that all the chillun she did have, that she +had 'leven chillun.</p> + +<p>"Our white folks took us to Texas durin' of the War. I think my old +master said we stayed there three years. My mother died there with a +congestive chill.</p> + +<p>"We come back here to Arkansas after freedom and I think my father +worked for Jack Hall three or four years. He wouldn't let him leave. He +raised my father and thought so much of him. He worked on the shares.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I went to school. I learnt to read and write but I just +wouldn't <u>do</u> it. I learnt the other chillun though. I did +<u>that</u>. I was into ever'thing. I learnt them that what I could do. +Blue Back? Them's the very ones I studied.</p> + +<p>"In slavery times I had to rise as early as I could. Old master would +give me any little thing around the house that I wanted. They said he +was too old to go to war. Some of the hands run off but I didn't know +where they went to.</p> + +<p>"Some of the people was better off slaves than they was free. I don't +study bout things now but sometimes seems like all them things comes +before me.</p> + +<p>"I used to hear em talkin' bout old Jeff Davis. I didn't know what they +was talkin' bout but I heered em.</p> + +<p>"I was sixteen when I married and I had eleven chillun. All dead but +four.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I been treated good all my life by white and black. All of em +loved me seemed like.</p> + +<p>"I been livin' in Arkansas all my life. I never have worked in the +field. I always worked in the house. I always was a seamstress—made +pants for the men on the place.</p> + +<p>"After I come here to Pine Bluff I worked for the white folks. Used to +cook and wash and iron. Done a lot of work. I <u>did</u> that.</p> + +<p>"I been blind 'leven years but I thank the Lord I been here that long. +Glory to Jesus! Oh, Lord have mercy! Glory, glory, glory to Jesus!"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReavesClay"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Clay Reaves, (light mulatto, large man)<br> + Palestine, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I will be eighty years old my next birthday. It will be July 6th. +Father was bought from Kentucky. I couldn't tell you about him. He +stayed on the Reaves place that year, the year of the surrender, and +left. He didn't live with mother ever again. I never did hear no reason. +He went on Joe Night's farm. He left me and a sister older but there was +one dead between us. Mother raised us. She stayed on with the Reaves two +years after he left. The last year she was there she hired to them. The +only thing she ever done before freedom was cook and weave. She had her +loom in the kitchen. It was a great big kitchen built off from the house +and a portico joined it to the house. I used to lay up under her loom. +It was warm there in winter time. I was the baby. I heard mother say +some things I remember well.</p> + +<p>"She said she was never sold. She said the Reaves said her children need +never worry, they would never be sold. We was Reaves from back yonder. +Mother's grandfather was a white man. She was a Reaves and her children +are mostly Reaves. She was light. Father was about, might be a little +darker than I am (mulatto). At times she worked in the field, but in +rush time. She wove all the clothes on the place. She worked at the loom +and I lay up under there all day long. Mother had three girls and five +boys.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reaves, we called him master, had two boys in the army. He was a +real old man. He may have had more than two but I know there was two +gone off. The white folks lived in sight of the quarters. Their house +was a big house and painted white. I've been in there. I never seen no +grand parents of mine that I was allowed to claim kin with.</p> + +<p>"When I got up some size I was allowed to go see father. I went over to +see him sometimes. After freedom he went to where his brothers lived. +They wanted him to change his name from Reaves to Cox and he did. He +changed it from James Reaves to James Cox. But I couldn't tell you if at +one time they belong to Cox in Kentucky or if they belong to Cox in +Tennessee or if they took on a name they liked.</p> + +<p>"I kept my name Reaves. I am a Reaves from start to finish. I was raised +by mother and she was a Reaves. Her name was Olive Reaves. Her old +mistress' name was Charlotte Reaves, old master was Edmond Reaves. Now +the boys I come to know was John, Bob; girls, Mary and Jane. There was +older children. Mother was a sensible, obedient woman. Nobody ever +treated her very wrong. She was the only one ever chastised me. They +spoiled me. We got plenty plain rations. I never seen nobody married +till after the surrender. I seen one woman chastised. I wasn't close. I +never learned what it was about. Old Master Reaves was laying it on.</p> + +<p>"Mother moved to New Castle, Tennessee from Mr. Reaves' place. We +farmed—three of us. We had been living southeast of Boliver, Tennessee, +in Hardeman County. I think my kin folks are all dead. Father's other +children may be over in Tennessee now. Yes, I know them. Mother died +over at Palestine with me. She always lived with me. I married twice, +had one child by each wife. Both wives are dead and my children are +dead.</p> + +<p>"Mother said I had three older brothers went to the Civil War and never +come back home. She never heard from them after they went off. I don't +know but it was my understanding that they was to be soldiers. I don't +recollect them.</p> + +<p>"Mother got so she wasn't able to work in the field several years before +she died. She worked in the field long as she was able. She lived with +me all my whole life till she died. But I farmed. Some years we done +well and some years we jess could live. I farmed all my life but a few +years. I love farm life. It is independent living. I mean you are about +your own man out there. I work my garden out at my shop now. I make +baskets and bottom chairs at Palestine. A few years I kept Mrs. +Wilkerson's yard and garden. Her husband died and she moved off to +Memphis. They did live at Palestine.</p> + +<p>"I heard it said that Reaves said he could keep his own farm. The Ku +Klux never bothered us. I have heard a lot of things but I am telling +you what I know. I don't know nothing about the Civil War nor the Ku +Klux. I was most too small a boy at that time to know much.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote. Can't write my name. Don't fool with it.</p> + +<p>"I went to school on rainy days. I went a few other days. People used to +have to work. I always wanted to work. I piddle around all the time +working now. I went to colored teachers all together. I can read a +little.</p> + +<p>"I had a brother-in-law in Arkansas. I heard a lot of talk. I come on a +visit and stayed three months. I went back and moved here. I come to +this State—over at Palestine—March 11, 1883 on Sunday. I have a good +recollection, or I think I have for my age. I've lived a pretty sensible +life, worked hard but had good health. If I had another life to live now +I would go to the farm. I love farm life.</p> + +<p>"I chop wood, garden, go in the woods get my splints for baskets, +chairs. I live by myself. I eat out some with I call them kin. They are +my sister's children. I get some help, $10 and commodities.</p> + +<p>"When I did vote I voted Republican or I thought I did. But now if I did +vote, I might change up. Times have changed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about the young generation. I do talk with +them—some. They are coming up in a changed time. I wouldn't talk +against the colored race of people. Some of them work—are good. Some +don't. I think some will not work. Maybe they would. I come to know +mighty little about them—no more than I know about the white girls and +boys. I see them on the streets about as much as I ever see colored +folks anywhere."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReeceJane"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Jane Reece<br> + 819 W. Ninth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I know this—I'm 85. I was born in North Carolina.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes'm, I 'member the War.</p> + +<p>"I'm three thousand miles from my home.</p> + +<p>"Old John Blue (Belew?) was my white folks.</p> + +<p>"I did have good white folks. Yes ma'am, I'll say that. Stayed there a +long time after we was sot free. They was good to us.</p> + +<p>"My mother was the mother of twelve chillun—she was a fast breeder.</p> + +<p>"I was the onliest girl and old missis was just wild about me. I had +good owners. I don't remember no hard treatment among 'em.</p> + +<p>"I 'member she used to have me runnin' from house to house totin' a +little note. That's the reason I had such a good time. Heap of times I +slept up at the big house with old missis.</p> + +<p>"I got a good memory. We was allowed to sing and pray. I know our white +folks was good that way. I'll say that for 'em. I won't go back on 'em.</p> + +<p>"Our folks stayed right on there a long time.</p> + +<p>"My father died three years after ever'thing had done got quiet and +peaceful.</p> + +<p>"I left my husband back there and come here to Arkansas with my mother.</p> + +<p>"The bigges' work I done—I used to be terrible 'bout cookin', washin' +and ironin', and field work. Ever'thing a man ever done I've done—cut +wood, cut down sprouts, barn brush—I've done ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I went to school a whole lot. Got so I could read. Used to +write too, but all that done left me.</p> + +<p>"I'm gwine tell you the truth, lady. I don't know whether the folks is +better off free or not. They is better off in one way—they is free—but +this young race is the devil."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReedFrank"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Frank Reed,<br> + 1004 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was a little boy pickin' up chips and helpin' feed the hog in slavery +times for old master. Name was George Houston. That was in Alabama.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do remember George Houston. As far as I know he was good to +us. I remember when he died.</p> + +<p>"Our people stayed right there after freedom. My mother was a Houston +till she married.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do remember the paddyrollers. I remember the hounds runnin' +too. I never thought I would remember that no more.</p> + +<p>"They didn't get after me 'cause I was too little. It didn't last long +enough for 'em to get after me.</p> + +<p>"I'm sick and not able to help myself. I got run over by a wagon.</p> + +<p>"I'm livin' here with my daughter. Her husband is a preacher and they +got eight children, so you can imagine how much they can do for me.</p> + +<p>"One word of the white folks is worth a thousand of ours."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReevesJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: James Reeves<br> + 2419 W. Twentieth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68<br> +Occupation: Preacher</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1870 down in Ouachita County about fourteen miles south +of Camden going on toward El Dorado. They didn't have no railroad then. +I was a young man when they put the branch through. You see, I was born +five years after slavery, but I remember my mother, my grandmother, and +my great-grandmother. They taken me and talked to me freely and I know +everything they knew.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Great-Grandmother on Mother's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My great-grandmother belonged to the Goodmans. Her master was named Bob +Goodman. She lived to get one hundred thirteen years old. From the +children of the old master, I got the information concerning her age. I +looked it up after emancipation. One of old master's sons was named +Frank Goodman, and another was named Norphleet Goodman, and there was +another whose name I don't recall.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother, great-grandmother, was named Frankie Goodman. I wasn't +here in slavery time, but I knew her after emancipation.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Grandmother on Mother's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My grandmother was named Hannah Goodman. These were different Goodmans +but they were kin to these others. There was a large family of them. I +don't know the correct age of my grandmother but she was up in the +eighties when she died.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Mother</b></p> + +<p>"My mother was born a Goodman, but she married Reeves, my father. The +record of their marriage I ain't got. Back there, they didn't keep up +like you and I do, and we don't keep up like these younger folks do. +Near as I could get it, she lived to be about seventy-one years old.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Father</b></p> + +<p>"My father was named Adam Reeves. His master was named Rick Reeves. My +father was born in Union County about ten miles from El Dorado. You +might say north of El Dorado because he lived south of Camden. He lived +there all his life. I have known him to move out of Ouachita County into +Union, and from Union back to Ouachita.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Grandfather on Mother's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My grandfather on my mother's aide was Henry Goodman. His mistress was +a woman by the name of Lucy Goodman. She was the same woman who owned my +mother. There was a big family of them Goodmans.</p> + +<p>"His age—he lived to be about eighty years old. He died in Hot Spring +County.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Grandmother on Father's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My grandmother on my father's side was named Hetty. Her master was +named Sam Abbott. She lived right close to seventy-four or seventy-five +years. She been gone quite a while now. She used to live with papa.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Other Ancestors</b></p> + +<p>"I don't know so much about another of my ancestors.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Wife</b></p> + +<p>"My wife didn't have many people. She knows her mother, her mother's +mistress, and all. Her ma was named Martha Henson. That was her married +name. Her mistress' last name was Stribling. Martha Henson was a +well-treated slave. The Striblings lived in Rockport, Arkansas, but +their native home was Georgia. I don't know where the Striblings are +now. The old man died before the Civil War broke out. I guess they are +all dead and in torment. My wife's grandmother and grandfather on her +mother's side were gone so far back that neither she nor I know anything +about them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Whippings</b></p> + +<p>"My great-grandmother on my mother's side was in Union County when I +knew anything of her—close to El Dorado. I was about twenty-two years +old when she died. She was tall and spare built, dark ginger cake color. +Coarse straight black hair that had begun to mingle with gray. She never +did get real gray, and her hair was never white. Even when she died, at +a hundred and thirteen years, her hair was mostly black mingled with +gray.</p> + +<p>"The overseer knocked her in the head in slavery times, and they had to +put a silver half-dollar in her head to hold her brains in. I have seen +the place myself. When I was a little fellow she used to let me feel the +place and she would say, 'That's where the overseer knocked granny in +the head, son. I got a half-dollar in there.' I would put her hair +aside—my but she had beautiful hair!--and look at the place.</p> + +<p>"My wife could tell you what my mother told her. She has seen the marks +on my mother's back and has asked, 'Mama, what's all these marks on your +back?' And mama would say, 'That's where I was whipped in slavery times, +daughter.' She never did like to tell the details. But the scars were +awful.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother was roughly treated and she had pretty near lost her +eyesight from the ill treatment. She got so before she died that she +could hardly see to go nowhere. I don't know what it was they done to +her that made her eyesight bad, but she insisted that it was due to bad +treatment in slavery time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard that the pateroles used to run the slaves if they didn't +have a pass from their mistress and master. The pateroles would run them +and catch them and whip them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"All my mother knew was that it got out that the Negroes were free. The +day before the old woman told them that they were free, my grandfather, +Henry Goodman who was a teamster, old mis' called him and told him to +tell all the darkies to come up to the house the next day.</p> + +<p>"Next morning, she said, 'Henry, you forgot what I told you. I want you +to call all the darkies up here this morning.' Henry had a voice like a +fog-horn. He started hollering. I wish I could holler the way he did, +but I got to consider the neighbors. He hollered. 'Tention, 'tention, +hey; Miss Lucy says she wants you all up to the big house this morning. +She's got somepin to tell you.'</p> + +<p>"They all come up to the yard before the house. When they got there, she +says to him—not to them; she wouldn't talk to them that morning; maybe +she was too full—'Henry, you all just as free now as I am. You can stay +here with Miss Lucy or you can go to work with whomsoever you will. You +don't belong to Miss Lucy no more.'</p> + +<p>"She had been sick for quite a bit, and she was just able to come to the +door and deliver that message. Three weeks after that time, they brought +her out of the house feet foremost and took her to the cemetery. The +news killed her dead. That's been seventy years ago, and they just now +picking up on it!</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Time Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"The old people say they used to have breakdowns in slave +time—breakdown dances with fiddle and banjo music. Far after slavery, +they had them. The only other amusement worth speaking about was the +churches. Far as the churches was concerned, they had to steal out and +go to them. Old man Balm Whitlow can tell you all about the way they +held church. They would slip off in the woods and carry a gang of +darkies down, and the next morning old master would whip them for it. +Next Sunday they would do the same thing again and get another whipping. +And it went on like that every week. When old man Whitlow came out from +slavery, he continued to preach. But the darkies didn't have to steal +out then. He's dead now, him and the old lady both.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Houses</b></p> + +<p>"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them would be hewed and put +up well. I have seen lots of them. Sometimes they would dob the cracks +with mud and would have box planks floors, one by eight or one by ten, +rough lumber, not dressed. Set 'em as close together as they could but +then there would be cracks in them. I can carry you to some old log +houses down in Union County now if they haven't been torn down recently.</p> + +<p>"One old log house there used to be old lady Lucy Goodman's home. It has +four rooms. It has a hall running through it. It was built in slave +times. There is a spring about two hundred yards from it. That is about +ten or twelve feet deep. There is a big cypress tree trunk hollowed out +and sunk down in it to make a curbing. That cypress is about two or +three feet across. The old man, Henry Goodman, sunk that cypress down in +there in slavery time. He drove an ox team all the time. That is all the +work he done. She would tell all the overseers, 'Now, don't you fool +with Henry because we ain't never whipped him ourselves.'</p> + +<p>"I don't know who it is that is living now. It's been fifty years ago +since I was there.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"Right after freedom, when the surrender came, my mother was just a girl +'bout fifteen or sixteen. She married after freedom. Her and her husband +farmed for a living—you know, sharecropped.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux and the pateroles were the same thing, only the Klan was +more up to date. It's all set up with a hellish principle. It's old +Pharaoh exactly.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux Klan didn't have no particular effect on the Negro except +to scare him.</p> + +<p>"When the emancipation came about, the people of the South went to work +to see what they could do about it. The whole South was under martial +law. Some of the people formed the Ku Klux Klan to keep the Negro down. +I never remember that they bothered any of our family or the people in +our house. But they scared some and whipped more, and killed some.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Political Trouble about 1888</b></p> + +<p>"The darkies and the white folks in Union County had an insurrection +over the polls about the year 1888. In them days, when you wanted to put +a Republican man in, you didn't have to do much campaigning. They just +went to the polls and put him in. Everybody that could vote was +Republican. In the fall of 1888 they had a great trouble down there, and +some of them got killed. They went around and commanded the Negroes not +to go to the polls the next day. Some of the Negroes would tell them, +'Well, I am going to the polls tomorrow if I have to crawl.' And then +some of them would say, 'I'd like to know how you goin' to vote.' The +nigger would ask right back, 'How you goin' to vote?' The white man +would say, 'I'm goin' to vote as I damn please.' Then the nigger would +say, 'I'm going to do the same thing.' That started the trouble.</p> + +<p>"On Sunday before the election on Monday, they went around through that +county in gangs. They shot some few of the Negroes. As the Negroes +didn't have no weapons to protect theirselves, they didn't have no +chance. In that way, quite a few of the Negroes disbanded their homes +and went into different counties and different portions of the state and +different states. Henry Goodman, my grandfather, came into Hot Spring +County in this way.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"Roosevelt has got himself in a predicament. They are drunk and don't +know what to do. The whole world is stirred up over why one-fourth of +the world should rule the other three-fourths. One-fourth of the world +is white. The Bible says a house divided can't stand. The people don't +know what to do. Look how they fight the Wage Hour Bill. Look at the +excitement they raised when it was first suggested that the Union and +Confederate veterans meet together.</p> + +<p>"We were savages when we came over here. Everything we got and +everything we know, good and bad, we got from the white folks. Don't +know how they can get impatient with us when everything we do they +learnt us.</p> + +<p>"Roosevelt has done more than any Democrat that has ever been in the +Chair. He had to do something to keep down a rebellion. Then we like to +had one as it is through the labor question.</p> + +<p>"The poor white man always has been in a tight [HW: place]. He was +almost as much oppressed as the Negro.</p> + +<p>"The young people of today ain't got no sense. They don't give no +thought to nothing. They don't know how to think at all. All the schools +and education they give don't make them think. If I had as much +education as they have, I would be able to accomplish something. The +teachers don't press down on them and make them know what they go over. +There is a whole lot of things happening now.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Old People in Pulaski County</b></p> + +<p>"Out in Pulaski County, going west out the Nineteenth Street Pike till +you strike the Saline County line, there are quite a few old colored +people. I guess you would find no leas than twenty-five or thirty out +that way. There is one old man named Junius Peterson out that way who +used to run a mill. If you find him, he is very old and has a good +memory. He is a mulatto. You could get out to him by going down till you +come to a place that is called the Henderson Lane. You turn to the right +and go off the pike less than a mile and you come to a big one-story +house settin' on a hill where Peterson lives. Right on beyond that about +three-fourths of a mile on the right side of the road, you come to +George Gregory's. The mother of my church is about eighty-one years old +but she is over in Saline County. Her name is Jane Joyner.</p> + +<p>"There are quite a few old persons around Woodson that can give you +information. But that is in Saline County, I think. Sweet Home, +Wrightsville, Toltec—all of them have a few old colored persons on the +farm that was here in slavery times."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Reeves' story was taken because of his clear memories of his parents and +grandparents. He described to me an old log house still standing in +Union County.</p> + +<p>I got all agog with excitement. I asked him for the exact location. He +gave it. Then I suggested that maybe he would go down with me sometime +to visit it. He agreed. Then at the last moment caution began to assert +itself, and I said, "When was the last time you saw the cabin?"</p> + +<p>He reflected a moment; then he said, "Waal, I guess it was a little more +'an fifty years ago."</p> + +<p>I lost my enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Reeves told the Phill-la-me-york story which was told by Austin Pen +Parnell. You will find it in his story. The only difference between his +story and Parnell's is that Reeves had the conclusion. He claimed that +the old master got in a fight with one of the slaves present and yelled +out his identity when he was getting badly beaten. The story sounds like +it came from the Arkansas folklore collection or from someone who +contributed it to that collection.</p> + +<p>An aftermath of Reeves' story is finding out that most people consider +Henry Banner, whose story has been previously given and whose age was +given as eighty-nine, is considered by many persons to be ninety-four.</p> + +<p>Neely, one of the adult school-teachers, says that he has gone over +Banner's life carefully with him, and that he must have been twenty-one +or twenty-two at the close of the War because during slavery, he had +experience at logging, or rather at logrolling, a work so difficult that +only full-grown men were used at it. Since Banner is slightly built, +there is scarcely a possibility that he did such work before the normal +time.</p> + +<p>[HW: Cf. 30715 for interview with Parnell.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RhoneShepherd"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person Interviewed: Shepherd Rhone<br> + 10th and Kentucky<br> + Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 75</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, I was bred and born in 'sixty-three in Phillips County, +Arkansas, close to Helena, on old Judge Jones' plantation. Judge Jones, +he was a lawyer. Remember him? I ought to, he whiped me enough. His +wife's name was Caroline Jones. She used to smack my jaws and pull my +ears but she was a pretty good woman. The old judge was a raw one +though. You had to step around or he'd step around for you.</p> + +<p>"I stayed right there till I was grown. My mother was named Katie Rhone +and my father was named Daniel Rhone. My mother was born in Richmond, +Virginia and my father in Petersburg, Virginia.</p> + +<p>"Judge Jones brought em here to Arkansas. My father was a bodyguard for +old Judge Jones' son Tom in the War. My father stuck with him till peace +declared—had to do it.</p> + +<p>"They was thirteen of us chillun and they is all gone but me, and I'll +soon be gone.</p> + +<p>"I know when the Yankees come I run from em. When peace declared, the +Yankees come all through our house and took everything they could get +hold of to eat.</p> + +<p>"The only reason the Yankees whipped the South was they starved em.</p> + +<p>"I know one time when peace declared I caught afire and I run and jumped +in a tub of water and I had sense enough not to tell my mother. A girl I +was raised up with went and told her though.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I worked for old Judge Jones on the half system. He give +me everthing that was due me. When he was eighty years old, he called +all his old tenants up and give em a mule and twenty-five dollars. He +was pretty good to em after all.</p> + +<p>"I went to free school in the summertime after the crops was laid by, I +can read and write pretty good.</p> + +<p>"I came here to Jefferson County in 'eighty-six and I put in thirty-six +years at the Cotton Belt Shops. When that strike come on they told us +colored folks to quit and I never went back. I worked for em when she +was a narrow gauge.</p> + +<p>"I worked in the North three years. I nightwatched all over St. Louis +and Madison, Illinois. I liked it fine up there—white folks is more +familiar up there and seems like you can get favors. If I don't get +somethin' here, I'm goin' back up there.</p> + +<p>"When I got big enough I voted the Republican ticket and after they got +this primary. I think the colored people ought to vote now cause they +make em pay taxes.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you right now, the younger generation is goin' to the dogs. +We'll never make a nation of em as long as they go out to these places +at night. They ought to be a law passed. When nine o'clock comes they +ought to be home in bed, but they is just gettin' started then.</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Catholic Church. I think it's a pretty good church. We +have a white priest and I'll tell you one thing thing—you can't get a +divorce and marry again and stay in the Catholic Church."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RichardDora"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Dora Richard<br> + 3301 W. 14th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in South Carolina and I was my mother's baby chile.</p> + +<p>"Jacob Foster was our old master and he sold my mother over in east +Tennessee. Now of cose she wasn't put upon the block and sold. She was +the house woman and spin and wove. After they sold her my father run +off. Oh sure, they caught him and I know old mistress said, 'Now, Jacob, +if you want to go where Lydia is, you can go.' So they sold him near +her.</p> + +<p>"I stayed with the Fosters till peace was declared and ever'thing was +declared free. Then my father come after me.</p> + +<p>"I can just sketch things. I try to forget it. My mother and father was +pretty agreeable when they was set free.</p> + +<p>"In Tennessee we stayed at the foot of Lookout Mountain and I can +remember seein' the cannon balls.</p> + +<p>"Here's the way I want to tell you. Some of the white people are as good +to the colored people as they could be and some of em are mean. My own +folks do so bad I'm ashamed of em.</p> + +<p>"So many of the colored of the South have emigrated to the North. I have +lived there and I don't know why I'm here now.</p> + +<p>"Some of my color don't like that about the Jim Crow Law, but I say if +they furnish us a nice comfortable coach I would rather be with my own +people. And I don't care to go to the white folks' church.</p> + +<p>"My mother used to tell me how they used to hide behind trees so the +boss man couldn't see em when they was prayin' and at night put out the +light and turn the pot down.</p> + +<p>"I went to school in Tennessee. I never will forget it. I had a white +teacher. He was in the War and he had a leg shot off. I went through the +sixth grade and was ready for the seventh Ray's Arithmetic. I walked +four miles there and four miles back—eight miles a day.</p> + +<p>"I can remember too when my mother and father was baptized. I know mama +come out of the water a shoutin'. Oh, that was good times then. I felt +better when I was under my mother cause when I married my life was over. +I raised about ten children.</p> + +<p>"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my sister's house lookin' for her +husband. I know I was in the bed and I raised up. I was scared you know.</p> + +<p>"When I hear some colored folks say they wish the old slavery times was +back, I just knows they is lazy. They don't want any responsibility."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RicksJim"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Jim Ricks<br> + 517 E. 22nd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in slavery times. I 'member runnin' from the Yankees when +they wanted to carry me off. Just devilin' me, you know. You know how +little chillun was 'bout white folks in them days.</p> + +<p>"I went to school three weeks and my daddy stopped me and put me to +work.</p> + +<p>"Old master was named Jimmie Ricks. They named me after him, I think.</p> + +<p>"My mother said he was a mighty good master. Didn't 'low his niggers +whipped.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I was born and raised in Arkansas, down here in Calhoun County.</p> + +<p>"I had a chance to learn but I was a rowdy. I wanted to hunt. I was a +mighty huntsman.</p> + +<p>"I was a good worker too. White folks was all stuck on me 'cause I was a +good worker.</p> + +<p>"I did farm work and then did public work after the crops was laid by. +But now I got too old to work.</p> + +<p>"I seen the Ku Klux once or twice when they was Ku Klukin' around. Some +of 'em would holler 'Kluk, kluk, kluk.' I was quite small, but I could +remember 'am 'cause I was scared of 'em.</p> + +<p>"I farmed all my life till year before last. I was a good farmer too.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote years ago. I voted Republican. Yes ma'am.</p> + +<p>"Younger generation ain't near like they was when I was young. I was +well thought of. Couldn't be out after sundown or they'd bump my head. +My stepfather would give me a flailin'. I thought he was mean to me but +I see now he done right by whippin' me.</p> + +<p>"I know in slavery times they got plenty of somethin' to eat. Old master +fed us well."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RiggerCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Charlie Rigger<br> + R.F.D., three miles, Palestine, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85 plus, doesn't know age</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born six miles from Mounticellar close to the line of Morgan and +Jasper County. Mother belong to the Smiths. Her father was part Creek +(Indian). They all was sold to Floyd Malone. His wife was Betsy Malone. +They had five children.</p> + +<p>"When I was a child I lay under the loom day after day picking up the +sickle. Ma was a cook and a weaver too.</p> + +<p>"Malone was a good man but his wife was one of 'em. She was a terrible +piece of humanity. Father was a farm hand. They had a gin, a shoe shop, +and a blacksmith shop all on Floyd Malone's place. I picked a little +cotton before 'mancipation. Floyd Malone had to buy my mother to git her +where my father was.</p> + +<p>"Some of the boys wore dresses till they was twelve or fifteen years +old. One fellar rode a mule or cow one the other to preaching. While he +sit talking to his gal at the window a steer cone up and et off his +dress tail. Boys got to courting before they got to take off their long +shirts.</p> + +<p>"They wasn't so good to mother. She run off several times. She went +'bout one and one-half miles to her mother on the Compton place. They +didn't whoop her. They promised her a whooping. They whooped her and me +too but I never knowed 'em to whoop my father. When they whoop my mother +I'd run off to place we lived and crawl under the house.</p> + +<p>"We chillun had nothing to do wid coffee. We drunk milk out little +bowls. We'd turn it up or lap it out which one could do the best. They +fed us. We'd ask for more till we got filled up.</p> + +<p>"I recollect the soldiers come by in July 1863 or 1864 and back in +December. I heard talk so long 'fore they got there I knowed who they +was. They took my oldest brother. He didn't want to go. We never heard +from him. He never come back. My white master hid out. He didn't go to +war. One son went and come back. It was the Yankees made my oldest +brother go. The first crowd in July swapped their wore-out scrub stock +for our good stock. That second crowd cleaned them out, took our hogs. +Miss Betty had died 'fore they come in July. That second crowd come in +December. They cleaned out everything to eat and wear. They set the +house 'fire several times with paper and coal oil (kerosene). It went +out every time. One told the captain. He come up behind. It went out +every time. He said, 'Let's move on.' They left it clean and bare. We +didn't like them. We had meat hid in the cellar. We got hungry that +spring sure as you born.</p> + +<p>"The old man married pretty soon after freedom. He married young to what +he was.</p> + +<p>"I didn't find much fault to slavery 'cepting the abuse. We et three +times a day and now if I get one piece I do well. Mother cooked, washed, +ironed and spun four cuts a day. We all et at the master's kitchen three +times a day. We had thirty-two families. I've heard that ag'in time and +ag'in so as I recollect it till now. We didn't have to work no harder +'en we do now if you have a living.</p> + +<p>"Master waited till all there. He had a horn made sorter like a bugle +for that business. Called us to our meals. We stayed a year. Went to his +brother's one year, then to Major Lane's big farm. We had to work about +the same as b'fore freedom. Not much change.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux come 'round right smart. Some had on skin coverings, cow +heads and horns. Some wore white sheets and black dresses on white +horses. They was scary looking. They would whoop and kill too. I was too +scared to get caught off at night.</p> + +<p>"Mother died. I was traveling about. I spent thirteen months in +Mississippi. Three winters right in Memphis. I married in Mississippi. I +left two daughters in Georgia. My wife died. I come to Arkansas in 1902. +I live all alone.</p> + +<p>"This present generation is traveling too fast. It-is-to-be. Fast +traveling and education. Times not good as it always have been b'fore +that last war (World War). When the white folks start jowing we black +folks suffers. It ain't a bit our fault. Education causes the black man +to see he is bit (cheated) but he better not say a word. It very good +thing if it is used right. Fast traveling is all right in its place. But +too many is traveling and they all want to be going. We got into pretty +fast time of it now. It-is-to-be and it's getting shoved on faster."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RigleyIda"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Ida Rigley, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Richmond, Virginia. Colonel Radford and Emma Radford +owned my mother. They had a older girl, Emma and Betty and three boys. I +called her Miss Betty.</p> + +<p>"My mother was Sylvia Jones and she had five children. Bill Jones was my +father. He was a born free man and a blacksmith at Lynchburg, Virginia +in slavery times.</p> + +<p>"He asked Colonel Radford could he come to see my mama and marry her. +They had a wedding in Colonel Radford's dining room and a preacher on +the place married them. They told me. My father was a Presbyterian +preacher. I heard papa preach at Lynchburg. He had a white principle but +no white blood. I never knew him very much till long after freedom.</p> + +<p>"Miss Betty Radford was raising me for a house girl. I was younger than +her children. Mother was a weaver for all on the place. Old aunt +Caroline was the regular cook but my mother helped to cook for hands he +hired at busy seasons of the year. My sisters lived in the quarters and +mama slept with them. She helped them. They worked in the field some. +They was careful not to overwork young hands. They cooked down at the +quarters. They had a real old man and woman to set about and see after +the children and feed them. The older children looked after the babies. +When Miss Betty went off visiting she would send me down there. I did +love it.</p> + +<p>"Emma and Betty went to school at Richmond in a buggy. They had a +colored boy driver. He was the carriage driver. Emma and Betty would +play with me too. Miss Betty fed me all the time. She made me a bonnet +and I can't get shed of my bonnet yet. I got four bonnets now.</p> + +<p>"When the white folks had a wedding it lasted a week. They had a second +day dress and a third day dress and had suppers and dinner receptions +about among the kin folks. They had big chests full of quilts and +coverlets and counterpanes they been packing back. Some of them would +have big dances. A wedding would last a week, night and day.</p> + +<p>"They had a farm right. We had peacocks, white guinea and big black +turkeys, cows, sheep, goats, hogs; he had deer. He kept their horns cut +off and some of the cow's horns were off. We had a acre in a garden and +had roses and all kinds of flowers. I like flowers now. Tries to have +'em. They had a gin on the place. He raised corn, rye, cotton, and +tobacco. The hands got their supplies on Saturday. On rainy days all the +women would knit, white and colored both. Miss Betty knitted some at +night in winter. They had a shop to sharpen and keep all the tools in. A +particular old man made the brooms and rakes.</p> + +<p>"It seem like there wasn't so many flies. Miss Betty mixed up molasses +and flour and poison and killed flies sometimes. She spread it on brown +paper. We had fly weed tea to set about too sometimes. We didn't have to +use anything regular. We didn't have no screens. We had mighty few +mosquitoes. We had peafowl fly brushes. They was mighty pretty.</p> + +<p>"One thing we had was a deep walled well and an ice-house. They cut ice +in blocks and put it up for winter[HW:?]. We had one spring on the place +I know.</p> + +<p>"They kept hounds. Colonel Radford's boys and the colored boys all went +hunting. We had 'possum and potatoes all along in winter; 'possum grease +won't make you sick. Eat all you want. I'd hear their horn and the dogs. +They would come in hungry every time. I never seen no whiskey. He had +his cider and vinegar press and made wine. We had cider and wine all +along. Colonel Radford was his own overseer and Charlie his oldest boy. +They whooped mighty little. They would stand up and be whooped. Some of +the young ones was hard-headed and rude. He advised them and they minded +him pretty well.</p> + +<p>"Our yards was large and beautiful; some had grass and some clean spots +about in the shade. Friday was wash day. Saturday was iron day. Miss +Betty would go about in the quarters to see if the houses was scrubbed +every week after washing. They had to wear clean clothes and have clean +beds about her place. She'd shame them to death.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Radford had a colored church for us all. It was a log house and +he had a office for his boys to read and write and smoke cob pipes in. +The white folks' church was at the corner of his place. I went there +most. They shouted and pat their hands. Colonel Radford was a Baptist.</p> + +<p>"Nearly every farm had a fiddler. Ever so often he had a big dance in +their parlor. I'd try to dance by myself. He had his own music by the +hands on his place. He let them have dances at the quarters every now +and then. Dancing was a piece of his religion.</p> + +<p>"I don't think our everyday frocks was stiffened but our dress up +clothes was. It was made out of flour—boiled flour starch. We had +striped dresses and stockings too. We had checked dresses. We had +goobers and a chestnut grove. We had a huckleberry patch. We had maple +sugar to eat. It was good. We had popcorn and chinquapins in the fall of +the year, I used to pick up chips to use at the pot. I had a little +basket. I picked up corn cobs. They burnt them and made corn cob soda to +use in the bread and cakes. We parched peeled sweet potatoes slice thin +and made coffee.</p> + +<p>"The Civil War was terrible. One morning before we was all out of bed +the Yankees come. It was about daylight. He and the three boys were +there. They didn't burn any houses and they didn't hesitate but they +took everything. They took all Miss Betty's nice silverware. They took +fine quilts and feather beds. That was in the fall of the year. They +drove off a line of our slaves (a block long) fer as from me to that +railroad. Made them go. They walked fast in front of the cavalrymen. +They took mama and my sisters. She got away from them with her girls and +found her way back to papa at Lynchburg.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Radford went and took some of the slave men and his boys. They +brought home plenty beds and a barrel of salt. He brought back plenty. +He sent his slave man to town any time. They had no notion leaving.</p> + +<p>"One time some Yankees come. I run hid around Miss Betty's long dress. +She was crying. They was pulling her rings off her fingers. I told them +to quit that. One of the mean things said, 'Little nigger, I shoot your +head off.' They took all her nice clothes. They said they took all +niggers. I sassed them. They went in another room. I shot under Miss +Betty's big skirt. They looked about for me but they thought I run off +to my mama. She was gone but they didn't know it. I seen my best times +then. We had a good time there. Miss Betty was good and kind to me. Good +as I wanted. I wish I had that good now.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"The soldiers come and I knowed it was the Yankees I hated. They took +all they could find and wasted a lot of it. I was scared. I kept hid +about. The slaves put their beds and clothes up on the wagons and went +off behind them and some clumb up in the wagons. I heard Miss Betty say, +'They need not follow them off, they are already free.' The way she said +it, like she was heart broken, made me nearly cry and I remember her +very words till this day. She was a good woman.</p> + +<p>"Mama come and got me long time after that and I didn't want to go nor +stay neither. It was like taking me off from my own home. Papa was +freeborn and freedom I couldn't understand till I was long grown. I +never got a whooping in my life. I was taught politeness.</p> + +<p>"During slavery we bought mighty little. Flour in barrels, salt. We had +Maple sugar and sorghum molasses in bounty. We was happy and had plenty +to eat and wear.</p> + +<p>"I learned to make the fine cakes from a Jew woman (Jewess), Mrs. Isaac. +I've been called a cook here in Forrest City. I was taught by Mrs. Isaac +to make angel food, coffee cake, white bread and white cakes. From that +I made the other kinds my own self."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>People in Forrest City send for Ida and keep her a week or two baking +Christmas and wedding cakes.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RitchieMilton"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Milton Ritchie<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Marietta Hotel at Marietta, Georgia. The hotel belong to +Milton Stevens. He had two sons. One died fo I was born and Pink was in +the war. Mistress Thursday was old moster's wife. We all had to refugee. +My sister was down in the bottoms with all the slaves and cattle when +she died. She took sick and died suddenly. They heard the soldiers was +coming to Atlanta and knowed they would come by Marietta. Moster Stevens +sold the hotel just at the beginning of the war. He moved to the +country. Mama cooked at the hotel and in the country both. The hotel was +a brick house on the railroad where they fed a lot of people every day. +Moster Milton used to take me bout where he went, rode me on his foot +when I was a baby. After they went to the farm every evening Mistress +Thursday come get me, take me to the house. She got bread and butter, +sugar, give it to me and I slept on a pallet in her room. I never did +know why she done that. Mama had a little house she slept in. She +cooked. They never whooped me. They never whooped mama.</p> + +<p>"One time the Federal army camped not a great ways from us. One time I +was playing in a gully—big red ditch. I spied the Federals coming. I +flew out the ditch up the hill and across the field. They was calvary +men camped back of our field. We all left that place and refugeed to +another place. They didn't burn the house but they sent two bullets +through the walls or that house. 'Old Granny' was too old to refugee. +She kept living by herself in a house on the place. They never bothered +her. She wasn't kin to us but Moster Milton owned her and kept her fed. +We raised sugar-cane, hogs, corn, and goobers. The sugar-cane had no +top. I got a whooping every Monday. Mama whoop me. We go drink +sugar-cane juice in the trough at the mill. We got up in there with our +feet. They had to wash out the troughs. It was a wood house. It was a +big mill. He sold that good syrup in Atlanta. It wasn't sorghum. The men +at the mill would scare us but we hid around. They come up to the house +and tell on us.</p> + +<p>"We had moved from the farm when they burned Atlanta. From the place +where Moster Milton refugeed I could hear a roaring all the time nearly, +sometimes clearer, and the roaring was broke sometimes.</p> + +<p>"Moster Milton ran the farm when he run the hotel cept I was born at the +hotel and Mistress Thursday lived there then too. He had all Negro +overseers. Each overseer had a certain lot of hands to do what he told +them. He didn't have no trouble. He told them if they made something for +them and him too it would be fine, if they didn't work they would have +to do without. They had plenty they said.</p> + +<p>"My mama was sold on the block in Virginia when she was twelve years +old. She and her little brother sold the same day. Moster Milton Stevens +bought her. The same man couldn't buy them both, didn't have money +enough. They had a little blanket and she and her brother cut it into +and put it around their shoulders. They been sleeping together and +Moster Milton brought her home on his horse up behind him. Her mama was +crying when she left her. She never heard nor seen none of her folks no +more she told me. (The old Negro cried.)</p> + +<p>"My mama and papa was dark but both was mixed. They never told me if it +was white or Indian. Papa was a tall, big bony man. Mama wasn't so big +and stouter. He never tried to get away from his owners. He belong to +Sam Ritchie five or six miles away. I never beard much about them. They +had Negro overseers. Papa was a foreman. He tanned the cow hides and +made shoes for all the hands on Ritchie's place. He made our shoes over +there too. They said Stevens and Ritchies didn't keep bad dogs. Mistress +Eliza Ritchie was a Stevens before she married. Papa never was sold. He +said they was good to them. Mama was named Eliza too and papa George +Ritchie.</p> + +<p>"When freedom was on papa went to Atlanta and got transportation to +Chattanooga. I don't know why. He met me and mama. She picked me up and +run away and met him. We went in a freight box. It had been a soldier's +home—great big house. We et on the first story out of tin pans. We had +white beans or peas, crackers and coffee. Meat and wheat and cornbread +we never smelt at that place. Somebody ask him how we got there and he +showed them a ticket from the Freedmans bureau in Atlanta. He showed +that on the train every now and then. Upstairs they brought out a stack +of wool blankets and started the rows of beds. Each man took his three +as he was numbered. Every night the same one got his own blankets. The +room was full of beds and white guards with a gun over his shoulder +guarded them all night long. We stayed there a long time—nearly a year. +They tried to get jobs fast as they could and push em out but it was +slow work. Mama got a place to cook at—Mrs. Crutchfield's. She run a +hotel in town but lived in the country. We stayed there about a year. +Papa was hired somewhere else there.</p> + +<p>"Papa got us on a farm in middle Tennessee after that. We come to Mr. +Hooper's place and share cropped one year, then we went to share crop +for Wells Brothers close to Murfreesboro. I been on the farm all my life +since then.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never pestered us. I heard about them.</p> + +<p>"The Welfare helps me and I would do work if I could get work I can do. +I could do light work. Times is hard. Hard to get a living. I don't mind +work. I couldn't do a day's work now.</p> + +<p>"The young generation is beyond me. I don't be about them much."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RiversAlice"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Alice Rivers<br> + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I remember when the Yankees come. I ricollect when they throwed +out all the meat from old master's smokehouse. The colored folks was +tryin' to ketch it and I know I tried to ketch it too.</p> + +<p>"Don't I look like I been here in Reb. time? I was born in Mississippi +on Colonel Reed's place in 1857.</p> + +<p>"I just know the Yankees come through. Had on blue coats with gold +lookin' buttons. I never will forget it 'cause it was so frightening.</p> + +<p>"I can ricollect way back there.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether the white folks was good or not, we hardly ever +saw 'em. Had a old woman that cooked for the chillun at the quarters. I +ricollect they had a big old kittle and she'd cook that full of +somethin'. I know the old lady give us plenty of somethin' to eat.</p> + +<p>"All the white folks didn't treat their hands mean. Some of 'em was a +fool 'bout them little niggers.</p> + +<p>"Old woman what cooked for the chillun was old Aunt Henie and she walked +half bent with a stick.</p> + +<p>"I went to school some after freedom. Learned how to spell and read but +not much writin'.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you 'bout no whippin's 'cause if they whipped the folks +they didn't do it at the quarters where the chillun was.</p> + +<p>"I been farmin' all my life till I come to Arkansas in 1916. Since then +I first cooked and washed. I ain't worked out in three years now.</p> + +<p>"I gets a little pension from the Welfare and I make out on that. My +granddaughter lives with me. She will finish high school in May and then +she can take care of herself.</p> + +<p>"I used to own this place but it was sold for taxes. Don't make any +difference if you is as old as Methuselah you got to pay them taxes. Old +Caeser started 'em and we've had to pay 'em ever since.</p> + +<p>"Younger generation ain't mannerly now like they was when I was young. +Chillun used to be obedient but they got to have their way now. Old +folks done put the chillun where they is now and they ought to take care +of 'em.</p> + +<p>"I don't know where the world gwine come to in the next five years. I +reckon they'll all be dead way they're gwine now. Storms takin' 'em away +here and war in them other countries."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobertsJ"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: J. Roberts, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 45 or 50<br> +Occupation: Methodist preacher</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My father was a Federal soldier in the Civil War. He was from Winston, +Virginia. He went to war and soon after the end he came to Holly Grove. +He was in Company "K". He signed up six or seven papers for men in his +company he knew and they all got their pensions. Oh yes! He knew them. +He was an awful exact honest man. He was a very young man when he went +into the war and never married till he come to Arkansas. He married a +slave woman. She was a field woman. They farmed. Father sat by the hour +and told how he endured the war. He never expected to come out alive +after a few months in the war.</p> + +<p>"John Roberts Collins was his owner in slavery. I never heard why he cut +off the Collins. I call my own self J. Roberts."</p> + +<p>"The present times are hard times. Sin hath caused it all. Machinery has +taken so much of the work."</p> + +<p>"The present generation are fair folks but wild. Yes, the young folks +today are wilder than my set was. I can't tell you how but I see it +every way I go."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobertsonGeorge"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: George Robertson? or George Robinson?<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My papa named Abe Robertson. His owner named Tom Robertson. I was born +in middle Tennessee. My mama named Isabela Brooks. Her master named +Billy Brooks. His wife name Mary Brooks. My master boys come through +here six years ago wid a tent show. My papa went off wid the Yankees. +Last I seed of him he was in Memphis. They took my mama off when I was a +baby to Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' her. My grandma raised +me. We stayed on the big plantation till 1880.</p> + +<p>"I don't want no Sociable Welfare help till I ain't able to work. I +don't want none now."</p> + +<p>(To be continued) [TR: no continuation found.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobinsonAugustus"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Augustus Robinson<br> + 2500 W. Tenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Calhoun County, Arkansas in 1860, January 15th. I am +going according to what my daddy told me and nothing else. That is all I +could do.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How the Children Were Fed</b></p> + +<p>"My grandmother on my mother's side said when I was a little fellow that +she was a cook and that she would bring stuff up to the cabin where the +little niggers were locked up and feed them through the crack. She would +hide it underneath her apron. She wasn't supposed to do it. All the +little niggers were kept in one house when the old folks were working in +the field. There were six or seven of us.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Sold</b></p> + +<p>"My daddy was a white man, my master. His wife was so mean to me that my +master sold me to keep her from beating me and kicking me and knocking +me 'round. She would have killed me if she could have got the chance. He +[HW: My daddy] sold me to a preacher who raised me as though I were his +own son. Whenever he sat down to the table to eat, I sat down. He made +no difference at all. He raised me in El Dorado, Arkansas. His name was +James Goodwin. He sent me to school too.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Visited by Father</b></p> + +<p>"When Harrison and Cleveland ran for President, my [HW: white] father +came to Little Rock. Some colored people had been killed in the campaign +fights, and he had been summoned to Little Rock to make some statements +in connection with the trouble. He stopped at a prominent hotel and had +me to come to see him. When I went up to the hotel to meet him, there +were a dozen or more white men at that place. When I shook hands with +him, he said, 'Gentlemen, he's a little shady but he's my son.' His name +was Captain I.T. Robinson. He lived in Lisbon, Arkansas.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Mother</b></p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Frances Goodwin. She belonged to Captain Robinson. +I don't know but I think that when they came to Arkansas, they came from +Georgia. They were refugees. When the War started, people that owned +niggers ran from state to state to try to hold their niggers.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>House</b></p> + +<p>"I lived right in the yard. We had four houses in the yard and three of +them was made of logs and one was made out of one-by-twelve planks. I +lived in the one made out of planks. It had one big room. I reckon it +was about twenty by fifteen, more than that, I reckon. It was a big +room. There [HW: were] two doors and no windows. We had old candlesticks +for lights. We had old homemade tables. All food was kept in the +smokehouse and the pantry. The food house and the smokehouse were two of +the log cabins in the yard.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Schooling</b></p> + +<p>"Goodwin schooled me. [TR: First sentence lined out.] He had a teacher +to come right on the place and stay there teaching. He raised me and +brought me up just as though I was his own child.</p> + +<p>"I remember getting one whipping. I didn't get it from Mr. Goodwin +though. His brother gave it to me. His brother sent me to get a horse. +An old hound was laying in the way on the saddle and the bridle. He +wouldn't move so I picked up the bridle and hit him with it. He hollered +and master's brother heard him and gave me a whipping. That is the only +whipping I ever got when I was small.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux</b></p> + +<p>"I heard of the Ku Klux Klan but I don't know that I ever seen them. I +never noticed what effect they had on the colored people. I just heard +people talking about them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Occupational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"The first work I did was farming—after the War. I farmed,—down close +to El Dorado, about six miles away from there. I kept that up till I was +about seventeen or eighteen years old or somewheres about there. That +was on James Goodwin's place—my last master, the man who raised me. +Then I left him and came to Little Rock. I don't remember in what year. +I went to school here in Little Rock. I had already had some schooling. +My grandmother sent me. The school I went to was called the Union +School. It was down on Sixth Street. After I left there, I went to +Capitol Hill School. I was going to school during the Brooks-Baxter War. +The statehouse was on Markham Street and Center. My grandmother's name +was Celie Robinson. She went by the name of her owner.</p> + +<p>"After I had gone to school several years—I don't remember just how +many—I worked down town about ten or eleven years. Then I went to +railroading. First I was with the Iron Mountain and Southern. Later, it +changed its name to the Missouri Pacific. I worked for them from 1891 to +1935. On August 29th I received my last pay check. I have tried ever +since to get my railroad pension to which my years of service entitle me +but have been unable to get it. The law concerning the pension seems to +have passed on the same day I received my last check, and although I +worked for forty-four years and gave entire satisfaction, there has been +a disposition to keep me from the pension. While in service I had my jaw +broken in two pieces and four front teeth knocked out by a piece of +flying steel.</p> + +<p>"Another man was handling the steam hammer. I was standing at my regular +place doing my regular work. When that happened, I was cut down like a +weed. There wasn't a man ever thought they would see me in that job +again after that piece of steel cut me down.</p> + +<p>"Also, I lost my right eye in the service when a hot cinder from the +furnace flew in it while I was doing my regular work. Then I was +ruptured because of the handling of heavy pieces of iron at my work. I +still wear the truss. You can see the places where my jaw was broke and +you can see where my teeth were knocked out.</p> + +<p>"Out of all the ups and downs, I stuck to the company just the same +until they retired me in 1935 because of old age. The retirement board +wanted to know when I asked for a pension, why did I think I was +entitled to a pension? I told them because I had been injured through +service with the company and had honorably finished so long a period of +service. It is now admitted that I am eligible to a railroad pension but +there seems to still be a delay in paying it for some reason or other.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Support Now</b></p> + +<p>"I get a little assistance from the Welfare, and I get some commodities. +If it wasn't for that, I would be broke up."</p> + +<p>[HW: Brooks-Baxter War was about 1872-74.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobinsonMalindy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Malindy Robinson<br> + 8th Street, West Memphis, Arkansas<br> +Age: 61</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was born in Wilkerson County, Mississippi. My ma never was sold, She +said she was eleven years old when peace was declared. Master Sims was +grandma's owner. Grandpa was never sold. He was born in Mississippi. He +was a mulatto man. He was a man worked about the house and grandma was a +field woman. She said she never was whooped but worked mighty hard. They +was good to grandma. She lived in the quarters. My parents b'long to the +same owner. But far as I ever knowed they married long after freedom. +They was raised close to Woodville, Mississippi."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobinsonTom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person interviewed: Tom Robinson<br> +Aged: 88<br> +Home: Lives with his son on outskirts of Hot Springs</h3> +<br> + +<p>As I entered Goldstein Grade school for colored I passed an old fellow +sitting on the sidewalk. There was somthing of that venerable, +dignified, I've-been-a-slave look about him, so much of it that I almost +stopped to question him. Inside I entered a classroom, where a young +woman was in conference with a couple of sheepish youngsters who had +been kept in after school.</p> + +<p>Did she know the whereabouts of any ex-slaves? She beamed. Only the +other day an old man had appeared on the school grounds. She appealed to +her charges. Didn't they remember that she had told them about him and +about what slavery had meant. Sheepish looks were gone. They were agog +with interest. Yes 'um, they remembered. But none of the three knew his +name or where to find him.</p> + +<p>Another teacher entered the room. No, she couldn't remember the name. +But the old man often came up to watch the children at play. He said it +made him happy to see them getting opportunities he never could have +had. Wait a minute—he might be outside at this very moment. A clatter +of heels and calls of triumph. "Yes! Yes! Here he is!"</p> + +<p>Outside I dashed to <u>drop flat on the sidewalk</u>[HW:?] beside the +aged man I had passed a few minutes before. Out came my smile and a +notebook. With only a few preliminaries and amenities the interview was +in full swing. It neither startled nor confused him, to have an excited +young woman plant herself on a public sidewalk at his side and demand +his life's story. A man who had belonged to three different masters +before the age of 15 was inured to minor surprises. Tom Robinson long +since learned to take life as it came.</p> + +<p>He is quite deaf in one ear and hears poorly with the other. Nobody +within a quarter of a block could have been in doubt of what was going +on. A youth moved closer. The kept-after-school pair emerged from the +building and stood near us, goggle-eyed thruout the interview. When we +were finished, Robinson turned to the children and gave them, a +grandfatherly lecture about taking advantage of their opportunities, a +lecture in which the white woman sitting beside him joined +heartily—drawing liberally on comments of ex-slaves in recent +interviews concerning the helplessness felt in not being able to write +and read letters from well loved friends.</p> + +<p>"Where was I born, ma'am? Why it's my understanding that it was Catawba +County, North Carolina. As far as I remember, Newton was the nearest +town. I was born on a place belonging to Jacob Sigmens. I can just +barely remember my mother. I was not 11 when they sold me away from her. +I can just barely remember her.</p> + +<p>"But I do remember how she used to take us children and kneel down in +front of the fireplace and pray. She'd pray that the time would come +when everybody could worship the Lord under their own vine and fig +tree—all of them free. It's come to me lots of times since. There she +was a'praying, and on other plantations women was a'praying. All over +the country the same prayer was being prayed. Guess the Lord done heard +the prayer and answered it.</p> + +<p>"Old man Sigmens wasn't a bad master. Don't remember so much about him. +I couldn't have been 11 when he sold me to Pickney Setzer. He kept me +for a little while and then he sold me to David Robinson. All three of +them lived not so far apart in North Carolina. But pretty soon after he +bought me old men Dave Robinson moved to Texas. We was there when the +war started. We stayed there all during the war. I was set free there.</p> + +<p>"We lived in Cass County. It was pretty close to the Arkansas border, +and 'twasn't far from Oklahoma—as is now. I remember well when they was +first gathering them up for the war. We used to hear the cannon often. +Was I afraid? To be sure I was scared, right at first. Pretty soon we +got used to it. Somebody even made up a song, 'Listen to the Home-made +Thunder'. They'd sing it every time the cannon started roaring.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, there never was any fighting right around us. I never really +saw any fighting. Old man Dave Robinson was good to me. He didn't have a +big farm—just owned me. Treated me almost like I was one of his own +children. Course, I had to work. Sometimes he whipped me—but no more +than he had to. I was just a child and any child has got to be made to +mind. He was good to me, and old Miss was good to me. All my masters was +pretty good to me—lots better than the usual run. Which one I like the +best. Well, you might know. I kept the name Robinson, and I named my son +Dave. You might know which one I think the most of.</p> + +<p>"One day I was out milking the cows. Mr. Dave come down into the field, +and he had a paper in his hand. 'Listen to me, Tom,' he said, 'listen to +what I reads you.' And he read from a paper all about how I was free. +You can't tell how I felt. 'You're jokin' me.' I says. 'No, I ain't,' +says he. 'You're free.' 'No,' says I, 'it's a joke.' 'No,' says he, +'it's a law that I got to read this paper to you. Now listen while I +read it again.'</p> + +<p>"But still I wouldn't believe him. 'Just go up to the house,' says he, +'and ask Mrs. Robinson. She'll tell you.' so I went. 'It's a joke,' I +says to her. 'Did you ever know your master to tell you a lie?' she +says. 'No,' says I, 'I ain't.' 'Well,' she says, 'the war's over and +you're free.'</p> + +<p>"By that time I thought maybe she was telling me what was right. 'Miss +Robinson,' says I, 'can I go over to see the Smiths?'—they was a +colored family that lived nearby. 'Don't you understand,' says she, +'you're free. You don't have to ask me what you can do. Run along +child.'</p> + +<p>"And so I went. And do you know why I was a'going? I wanted to find out +if they was free too." (a chuckle and toothy smile) "I just couldn't +take it all in. I couldn't believe we was all free alike.</p> + +<p>"Was I happy? Law Miss. You can take anything. No matter how good you +treat it—it wants to be free. You can treat it good and feed it good +and give it everything it seems to want—but if you open the cage—it's +happy.</p> + +<p>"What did I do after the war was over? I farmed. I farmed all my life, +'til I got too old. I stopped three—four years ago. I lives with my +son—Dave Robinson—the one I named for my master.</p> + +<p>"How did I farm? Did I share crop? No, ma'am!" (Sharply as tho +repramanding the inquirer for an undeserved insult.) "I didn't share +crop, except just at first to get a start. I rented. I paid thirds and +fourths. I always rented. I wasn't a share-cropper.[A]</p> + +<p>[A: Socially and economically sharp distinctions are drawn between the +different classes of renters, both by owners and tenants themselves. +Families whom ambition and circumstances have allowed to accumulate +enough surplus to buy farm implements and have food for a year ahead +look with scorn on fellow farmers who thru inertia or bad luck must be +furnished food and the wherewithall to farm. In turn, families that have +forged ahead sufficiently to be able to pay cash rent on farms they +cultivate look down On both of the other groups.]</p> + +<p>"It was awful hard going after the war. But I got me a place—had to +share-crop for a year or two. But I worked hard and saved all I could. +Pretty soon I had me enough that I could rent. I always raised the usual +things—cotton and corn and potatoes and a little truck and that sort of +thing—always raised enough to eat for us and the stock—and then some +cotton for a cash crop.</p> + +<p>"My first wife, well it was kind of funny; I wasn't more than 19. She +had 11 children. Some of them was older than I was. No ma'am it wasn't +so hard on me. They was all old enough to take care of themselves. I +lived with that woman for 17 years. Then she died.</p> + +<p>"I been married five times. Three of my children are living. One's +here—that's Dave. Then there's one in Texarkana and there's one in +Kansas City. Two of my children's dead. The youngest died just about +last year. All my wives are dead.</p> + +<p>"Almost every day I comes up to sit here and watch the children. It does +me good to see 'em. Makes me feel good all over to think about all the +fine chance they has to get a good education. Sonny, you hear me? You +pay attention too, sonny. I'm watching you—you and all the other little +boys. You mind me. You learn all you can. You ought to be so thankful +you allowed to learn that you work hard. You mind me, sonny. When you're +grown up, you'll know what I'm talking about—and know I'm right. Run +along, sonny. No use hanging around the school yard too long."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RogersIsom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Isom Rogers, Edmondson, Arkansas<br> +Age: 67</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Tunica County, Austin, Mississippi. I been in Edmondson, +Arkansas ten years. I come to do better. Said farming was good here. My +folks' owners was Master Palmer and George Rogers. My parents was never +sold. They was young folks in slavery time and at time of freedom. They +was farm hands. Their names was Pat and Ely Rogers.</p> + +<p>"I heard him say he made palings and went 'round mending the fences when +the ground was froze. He made boards to cover the houses with too—I +heard him say. He was strong and worked all the time at some jobs. Never +heard mother say very much.</p> + +<p>"I been farming and I have worked on quarter-boat and back farming. I +been here ten years."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RogersOscarJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Oscar James Rogers, Wheatley, Arkansas<br> +Age: Up in 70's</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I come to dis state in 1885. I run off from my parents back in North +Carolina. They was working in a turpentine forest there.</p> + +<p>"When freedom was declared my folks heard 'bout a place where money was +easy to make. So they walked from down close to Charleston up there and +carried the children. I was 'bout nine or ten years old. I liked the +farm so I left the turpentine farm. I got to rambling round and finally +got to Arkansas. I run off from my folks cause they kept staying there. +I was a child and don't recollect much 'bout slavery. I was at the +quarters wid all the children. My mother b'longed to Bob Plat and my +father to a man named Rogers. My father could get a pass and come to see +us every Sunday providin' he didn't go nowhere else or stop long the +road. He came early and stay till bedtime. We all run to meet him. He +kiss us all in bed when he be leavin'.</p> + +<p>"I heard them say they 'spected a home and freedom but when the time +come they master forgot 'bout home cause they just took the few clothes +in bundles and left. Then they had a hard time 'cause they never thought +how freedom would be. They never axed for nothin' and they never got +nothin'. They didn't understand how to hustle lest somebody tell them +what to do next. They did have a hard time and it was cold and rocky up +in North Carolina to what they had been used to down close to +Charleston.</p> + +<p>"When I got out to Arkansas I like it better than any country I seed and +I say 'I'm stayin' here.' I meant to go back but I married and didn't +get no money ahead for a long time. Then I had a family of 11 children. +Jes' 'fore I married I got to go to school four months' close to Cotton +Plant, where I married.</p> + +<p>"When I was young I sho could knock off de work. I cummulated 80 acres +land in Lee County. I paid $900 for it, got in debt and had let it fur +'bout ($247.50) Two hundred forty-seven and a half dollars. All I got +outen it. I had a bad crop and had a little provision bill. I made on +time, man agreed to run me on then took it 'bout all.</p> + +<p>"Then I still was a strong man an' we bought 40 acres 14 miles from +Cotton Plant and I had it 27 years. Then lost it.</p> + +<p>"My second wife owned a house and garden at Wheatley half a mile or so +from town. We live over there. Our children all gone. She say she cooked +and washed and farmed for it. It cost $100.00.</p> + +<p>"I could do heap work if I could get it. Old man can't get 'nuff regular +work to cover my house or buy me a suit closes. The Government gives me +$10.00 a month. That's a help out but it don't go fir high as provisions +is. Me an' the old woman both too feeble to do much hard work. I gets +all the odd jobs the white folks give me. Misses, I ain't lazy, I jess +gettin' old and not able to hold out to do much. Whut I could do they +give it to the young fellows cause they do it in a hurry.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote right smart when they needed me to help out. I voted for +Hoover. Don't think it right the way the men settin' round and deir +wives workin' fer livin' and votin'. The women can vote if they want to +but I don't think it right. Seems lack the cart in front ob de horse +now.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't do no more good to vote in the Primary than it do in the +General election. It don't do much good nohow.</p> + +<p>"Fur as I ever knowed the slaves had no uprisin's. They thought well +enough of their masters. Everybody worked then hard as they could. The +master he worked all time in the shop making things jess like he needed, +boards and handles, plows and things. Missus, everybody worked hard dem +days, both black and white, and that is the reason folks had plenty. The +old grandmas done work whut suited them and helped out. Now lack me, I +can't get the right work whut I able to do 'nuff to keep me livin'. It +is bad.</p> + +<p>"If times was bad as they was few years ago all old folks done been +rotten, starved to death. Times is better but they sho ain't all right +yet.</p> + +<p>"This young generation livin' so fast they stop thinkin'. They do well +to keep livin' their selves. They wastes a heap they outer save fur +rainy days. They ain't takin' no advice from old folks. I don't know +whut goiner become of them."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RogersWillAnn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Will Ann Rogers<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born three years after the surrender. I was born at Fryers Point, +Mississippi. The reason I ain't got the exact date when I was born, my +ma put it down in the Bible and the house burned up and everything in it +burned to ashes. No mam she got somebody what could write real nice to +write all the names and ages for her.</p> + +<p>"When ma was a young woman, she said they put her on a block and sold +her. They auctioned her off at Richmond, Virginia. When they sold her, +her mother fainted or drapped dead, she never knowed which. She wanted +to go see her mother lying over there on the ground and the man what +bought her wouldn't let her. He just took her on. Drove her off like +cattle, I recken. The man what bought her was Ephram Hester. That the +last she ever knowed of any of her folks. She say he mated 'em like +stock so she had one boy. He livin' down here at Helena now. He is Mose +Kent. He was born around Richmond, Virginia jes' lack dat she say.</p> + +<p>"When it nearly 'bout time for freedom a whole army of Yankees come by +and seed Mose working. They told him if he come go wid them they give +him that spotted horse and pair red boots. He crawled up on the horse +an' was gone wid 'em for a fact she said. She started right after them, +following him. She followed them night and day. She nearly starved, jess +begged 'long the road all she could. I heard her say how fast she have +to walk to keep on trail of 'em and how many nights. She say some nights +when they camped she would beg 'round and try to fill up. But she +couldn't get to Mose without them seein' her. When they got to Fryers +Point she went an' got him. They jess laughed and never give him +nuthin'. They left that army fast as they could she say.</p> + +<p>"She married at Fryers Point. She had jes' one boy and I had four or +five sisters. They all dead but me and Mose. He think he 'bout ninety +years old. He come here to see me last year. He sho is feeble.</p> + +<p>"How come I here? When I was fourteen years old my family heard how fine +this State was and moved to Helena. I lived at Moro and Cotton Plant. +Then, the way I come here was funny. A man come up there and say a free +train was comin' to go back to Africa. All who wanted to go could go. My +pa sold out 'bout all we had an' we come here lack they say. No train +come yet goin' to Africa as I seed. My pa give the white man $5.00 to +pay fer the train. Tom Watson was one of 'em too. He was a sorter leader +'mong 'em wantin' to go back. Well when the day come that the train due +to start everybody come to the depot whar the train going to stop. There +was a big crowd. Yes mam, dressed up, and a little provisions and +clothes fixed up. Jes' could take along a little. They say it would be +crowded so. We stayed around here a week or two waitin' to hear +somethin' or be ready to go. Most everybody stayed prutty close to the +depot for two or three days. Yes mam there sho was a crowd—a whole big +train full from here 'sides the other places. I jes' stayed here an' +been here ever since. The depot agent, he told 'em he didn't know 'bout +no train going to Africa. The tickets was no good on his trains.</p> + +<p>"How I owns this place, I'll tell you. A man here had all dis land +'round here (Negro town) laid off. He couldn't sell none of his lots. +They wouldn't buy his lots. So he got after me. We had made a good crop, +so I got up the money and bought this place. One hundred dollars is what +I give him. Others then started to settlin' in and about close to my +place.</p> + +<p>"I guess it was Spotsells in Virginia what raised her. She say her name +was Lizzie Spotsell Johnson. Then when Ephram Hester bought her they +learned her to do about in their house. She cooked and swept and knocked +flies and tended to the children. She stayed with 'em a pretty long time +till she run off and went to Fryers Point.</p> + +<p>"She may have told us about the Nat Turner rebellion but I don't +remember it. They sung a lot in my mother's time. Seemed lack they was +happier than we are somehow. She sung religious songs and one or two +field songs. I don't recollect 'em now.</p> + +<p>"I never did vote. I never cared nuthin' about it. Some of 'em 'round +here wouldn't miss votin' for nothin'.</p> + +<p>"Lawd me, chile, the times is done run ahead of me now. I'm so fur +behind I never expect to catch up. I don't pay no more attention to the +young folks, the way they act now, 'an I do my little dog there. They +don't want no advice and I would be afraid I would 'vise 'em wrong. When +my children come I tell 'em you are grown and you knows right from +wrong. Do right. That's all I know to say.</p> + +<p>"The way I am supported is my husband gets all the jobs he able to do +and can and the governmint give me an' him $10 a month. We has a little +garden."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RooksWilliamHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: William Henry Rooks<br> + Baptist Preacher; Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>The slaves didn't spect nothing but freedom. Jes freedom! In Africa they +was free as wild animals and then they was so restricted. Jes put in +bondage for no reason at all.</p> + +<p>No plantations was divided. I was born a slave and I remembers right +smart how it was.</p> + +<p>My master was John Freeman and his wife's name was Fannie. I went to +Como, Mississippi twice a week to get the mail all durin the war. It was +eight miles. I rode a pony.</p> + +<p>If you go to church you have to have a pass from the master. The +pattyrollers see you and you have to show it to them. It was just a +note. If you didn't have it they take or send you home. If they catch +you any more without a pass they whip you. They come to the church and +in all public places like the police stands around now. They rode around +mostly. Sometimes they went in droves.</p> + +<p>They would let you go visiting sometimes and exchange work. Some masters +was good and some was mean jess like they are now and some slaves good +and some bad. That is the way they are now.</p> + +<p>Some of the white men had a hundred slaves and had plenty money. The war +broke nearly all of them. The very worse thing I ever knowed about it +was some white men raised hands to sell like they raise stock now. It +was hard to have your child took off and never see or hear tell of it. +Mean man buy it and beat it up. Some of them was drove off to be sold at +auction at New Orleans. That was where some took them cause they could +get big money for them.</p> + +<p>I never knowed of a master to give the slaves a dime when they become +free. They never promissed them nothing. The Yankees might have to toll +them off. The hands all stayed on John Freeman's place and when it was +over he give them the privilege of staying right on in their houses. +Some left after awhile and went somewhere they thought they could do +better.</p> + +<p>They didn't have the Ku Klux but it was bout like it what they had. They +wore caps shine de coons eye and red caps and red garments. Red +symbolize blood reason they wore red. They broke up our preaching. Some +folks got killed. Some was old, some young—old devlish ones. They was +like a drove of varments. I guess you be scared. They run the colored +folks away from church a lot of times. That was about equalization after +the freedom. That was the cause of that.</p> + +<p>There was uprisings like I'm telling you but the colored folks didn't +have nothing to go in a gun if he had one. White folks make them give up +a gun.</p> + +<p>The first votin I done I was workin for young Henry Larson back in +Mississippi. He give my mother $120 a year to cook for his young wife +and give her what she eat and I worked on his farm. He told me to go +vote, it was election day. I ask him how was I going to know how to +vote. I could read a little. I couldn't write. The ballot box was at +Pleasant Mount. Ozan set over the box. He was a Yankee. He was the only +one kept the box. It was a wooden box nailed up and a slit in the top. +A.R. Howe and Captain Howe was two more Yankee white men there watching +round all day. Ozan was the sheriff at Sardis, Mississippi soon after +the war. Some more colored folks come up to vote. We stood around and +watched. We saw D. Sledge vote; he owned half of the county. We knowed +he voted Democrat so we voted the other ticket so it would be +Republican. I voted for President Grant. I don't believe in women +voting. They used to have the Australian Ballot System. It's a heap more +the man that's elected than it is the party. We all voted for Hoover; he +was a Republican and foe he got one term served out we was about on +starvation. I ain't voted since. That President claim to be a Democrat. +He ain't no Democrat. I don't know what he be.</p> + +<p>I been farming and preaching. I started preaching in Mississippi. I +joined the conference in Arkansas in 1886 and started preaching at +Surrounded Hill (Biscoe). I come here in 1884 from Pinola County. +Mississippi. I had some stock and they was fencing up everything over +there. I had no land so I come to an open country. It wasn't long before +they fenced it in. I come to Brinkley and worked for Gun and Black +sawmill and I been here forty or fifty years. I don't know jess how +long. I couldn't starve to death in a whole year here. The people +wouldn't let me. I got lot of friends, both black and white, here.</p> + +<p>I married December 17, 1874 in the Baptist church. Glasco Wilson was the +preacher married me. My wife died here in dis house nine years ago. We +had ten children but jes two livin now. My girl married a preacher and +live at Hope. Arkansas. My son preaches in Parson, Kansas.</p> + +<p>I supports my own self. I works and I preaches a little yet. I saved up +some money but it nearly give out. The young generation, some of them, +do mighty bad. Some of them is all right. Some of them don't do much and +don't save nothing. I owns this house and did own another one what +burned down. A lamp exploded and caught it while I was going off up the +road but I never looked back or I would have seen it. It seem lack now +it takes more money to do than it ever did in times before. Seems like +money is the only thing to have and get. Folks gone scottch crazy over +money, money! Both is changing. The white folks, I'm speaking bout, the +white folks has changed and course the colored folks keeping up wid +them. The old white and colored neither can't keep up wid the fast +times. I say it's the folks that made this depression and it's the folks +keeping the depression. The little fellow is squeezed clear out. It out +to be stopped. Folks ain't happy like they used to be. Course they sung +songs all the time. Religious choruses mostly.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RossAmanda"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Amanda Ross<br> + 817 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was nine years old in the time of the surrender. I know I was here in +that time. I don't know nothin' 'bout their carryin'-on. I know they +whipped them with hobble rods. You don't know what hobble rods is!!! +Ain't you seen these here long thin hick'ry shoots? They called hobble +rods. I don't know why they called 'em hobble rods. I know they made you +hobble. They'd put 'em in the fire and roast 'em and twist 'em. I have +seen 'em whip them till the blood run down their backs. I've seen 'em +tie the women up, strip 'em naked to their waist and whip 'am till the +blood run down their backs. They had a nigger whipper, too.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Salem, Alabama. I came up here about twenty-five years +ago.</p> + +<p>"Isaac Adair was the name of the old man who owned me. He owned my +mother and father too, Hester and Scip. Their last name was Adair, the +same as their master's.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember the names of my grandfather and grandmother, 'cause we +was crossed up, you see, One of my grandmothers was named Crecie and the +other was named Lydia. I don't remember my grandfather's name. I spect I +used to call 'im master. I used to remember them but I don't no more. +Nobody can't worry me 'bout them old folks now. They ast me all them +questions at the Welfare. They want to know your gran'pa and your +gran'ma. Who were they, what did they do, where did they live, where are +they now? I don't know what they did. That's too far back for me.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father had nine children. I have only one sister living. +All the others done gone to heaven but me and her.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father lived in a log cabin. They had one-legged beds +nailed to the wall. They had benches and boxes and blocks and all sich +as that for chairs. My daddy made the table we used. He made them +one-legged beds too. They kept the food in boxes and gourds. They had +these big gourds. They could cut holes in the top of them and put things +in them. My mammy had a lot of 'em and they were nice and clean too. +Wisht I had one of them now.</p> + +<p>"Some folks didn't have that good. We had trundle beds for the children +that would run under the big bed when they wasn't sleeping in it. We +made a straw mattress. You know the white folks weren't goin' to let 'em +use cotton, and they didn't have no chickens to git feathers from; so +they had to use straw. Oh, they had a hard time I'm tellin' you. My +mother pulled greens out of the garden and field, and cured it up for +the mattress.</p> + +<p>"For rations, we'd eat onions and vegetables. We et what was raised. You +know they didn't have nothin' then 'cept what they raised. All the +cookin' was done at one house, but there was two cooks, one for the +colored folks and one for the white folks. My grandma cooked for the +white people. They cooked in those big old washpots for the colored +people. We all thought we had a pretty good master.</p> + +<p>"We didn't know nothin' about a master.</p> + +<p>"I ain't positive what time the hands ate breakfast. I know they et it +and I know they et at the same time and place. I think they et after +sunrise. They didn't have to eat before sunrise.</p> + +<p>"When they fed the children, they cook the food and put it in a great +big old tray concern and called up the children, 'Piggee-e-e-e-e, +piggee-e-e-e-e.' My cousin was the one had to go out and call the +children; and you could see them runnin' up from every which way, little +shirt tails flyin' and hair sticking out. Then they would pour the food +out in different vessels till the children could git around them with +those muscle-shell spoons. Many of them as could get 'round a vessel +would eat out of it and when they finished that one, they'd go to +another one, and then to another one till they all got fed.</p> + +<p>"My master worked seventy hands they said. He had two colored overseers +and one white one. He didn't allow them overseers to whip and slash them +niggers. They had to whip them right. Didn't allow no pateroles to +bother them neither. That's a lot of help too. 'Cause them pateroles +would eat you up. It was awful. Niggers used to run away to keep from +bein' beat up.</p> + +<p>"I knowed one gal that ran away in the winter time and she went up into +the hollow of a tree for protection. When she came in, she was in sich a +bad condition they had to cut off both her legs. They had froze out +there. They taken care of her. They wanted her to work. She was jus' as +nice a seamstress as you ever saw. And she could do lots of things. She +could get about some. She could go on her knees. She had some pads for +them and was just about as high as your waist when she was goin' along +on her hands and knees, swinging her body between her arms.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ate in the Big House</b></p> + +<p>"The cooks and my mother stayed in the white folks' yard. They weren't +in the quarters. My mother was seamstress and she was right in the house +all the day long sewing. The children like me and my sister, they used +us 'round the house and yard for whatever we could do. They didn't never +whip none of my father's children. If we done something they thought we +ought to been whipped for, they would tell father to whip us, and if he +wanted to, he would; and if he didn't want to, he wouldn't. They made a +big difference for some reason.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"They married in that time by standing up and letting someone read the +ceremony to them. My master was a Christian. There wasn't no jumpin' +over a broomstick on my master's place. The white folks didn't have no +nigger preacher for their churches. But the colored folks had 'em. They +preached out of these little old Blue Back Spellers—leastways they was +little blue back books anyhow.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"My folks was on the road refugeeing from Magnolia, Arkansas to +Pittsburg, Texas when the news came that the colored folks was free. And +my master came 'round and told the niggers they was free as he was. I +didn't hear him. I don't know where I was. I'm sure I was out playin +somewheres.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Wages and Experiences after the War</b></p> + +<p>"My father worked in a blacksmith shop right after the War. Before the +War, he went far and near to work for the white folks. They'd risk him +with their money and everything. They would give him part of it; I don't +know how much. He brought money to them, and they sure give him money.</p> + +<p>"We didn't have to wear the things the other slave children had to wear. +He would order things for his family and my father would do the same for +us. When old master made his order, my father would put his in with it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Family</b></p> + +<p>"I am the mother of fifteen children—ten girls and five boys. That was +enough for me. I am willing to quit off. My husband is dead. He's been +dead for thirty-five years.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say about these young people. Mine are pretty +good. So, I'm 'fraid to say much about the others.</p> + +<p>"Lord, I don't know what we'll do if we don't get some rain.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>When I was able I washed and ironed. I didn't have to do nothin' till +after my father and husband died. Then I washed and ironed and cooked +till the white folks set me out. They said I was too old. That is one +thing I hates to think of. They had the privilege to say I couldn't +work; they ought to a seen that I got somethin' to live on when I wasn't +able to work no more."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>You can't get the whole story by reading the words in this interview. +You have to hear the tones and the accents, and see the facial +expressions and bodily movements, and sense the sometimes almost occult +influence; you have to feel the utter lack of resentment that lies +behind the words that sound vehement when read. You marvel at the quick, +smooth cover-up when something is to be withheld, at the unexpected +vigor of the mind when the bait is attractive enough to draw it out, and +at the sweetness of the disposition. Some old people merely get mellowed +and sweetened by the hardships through which they have passed. +Sometimes, you wonder if some of the old folk don't have dispositions +that they can turn off or on at will.</p> + +<p>It is not hard to realize the reason why Amanda was treated better than +other children when you remember that she called her grandpa "Master".</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RossCat"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: "Cat" Ross<br> + Brassfield, Ark.<br> +Age: Born 1862</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Releford County on old Major Ross place. I was born +durin' a battle between the North and South at Murfreesboro. The house +was on the battle ground. Mama had five children. Her name was Susanna +Wade. Papa's name was Amos Ross. He belong to Major Bill Ross. Major +Ross had ten houses houses—one at the edge of the thicket, two on Stone +river, and they was scattered around over his land. Major Ross never +went to war. Papa went with Major Billy to bury his gold. It stayed +where they put it till after the war they went and dug it up. I seen +that. When they brought it to the house, it was a pot—iron pot—full of +gold. I didn't know where they had it buried nor how they fixed it.</p> + +<p>"My folks was all field hands. They muster been blessed cause they +didn't get mixed up with the other nations. Grandfather's +mother—Grandma Venus—come from Africa. She'd been in bondage about a +hundred years. I recollect her well. My folks all lived to be old +people, over a hundred years old. They was all pretty well, all +Africans.</p> + +<p>"I have seen the Ku Klux quarter mile long and two breasted on horses. +They scared me so bad I never had no experiences with them. They run my +uncle in. He was a big dancer. One time they made him dance. He cut the +pigeon-wing for them. That was the name of what he danced.</p> + +<p>"I never was sold. I was give way. One of the Wades married into the +Mitchell family. Mama belong to the Wades. They give me and Mama and +Aunt Sallie—she wasn't my aunt but I called her that—to Wade's +daughter. She was the young mistress. The Wades wasn't so good to their +slaves. When freedom was declared, Papa come and got me and Mama and +took us on over to his place agin. We started sharecroppin' at Major +Ross's place. In 1881 Chick McGregor paid my way. I come to Arkansas. I +farmed all my life till 1922 to 1933 I been here in Brassfield +sawmilling. They took the mill away from here. I cain't plough, I'm not +able. I pick and hoe cotton. I work day labor. I never have got on the +Welfare."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RossMattie"></a> +<h3>Southfield<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson<br> +Subject: Centennial Snow—Spring in St. Louis addition<br> +<br> +Name: Mattie Ross<br> +Occupation: Gardening<br> +Residence: South Field, Oil Field.<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.]</p> +<br> + +<p>Ah wuz born aftuh surrender. Ah guess ah'm about 74 years ole. Mah pa +wuz er slave an mah ma wuz too. Dey moster wuz name Green Traylor an dey +lived right down dar at <u>Tula</u> Creek. Mah mistess wuz named Martha +Traylor an dey name me aftuh huh. Mah name is Martha Lee Traylor. Aftuh +she mahried huh name wiz Martha Tatum. We worked down dar. Oh! Mah Lawd! +How we did work—all ovah dat bottom. De puttiest fiel' ah evah did see. +De Traylor's owned hit den. Later on de Tatums bought hit fum dem and +years aftuh dat de Nash's bought hit fum de Tatums. But new all uv dat +place is growed up. Nothing but er pine thicket and er black berry +thicket. Ye caint hardly walk through de place. Later on de Cobbs owned +us. George Cobb wuz his name. He lived down in de Caledonia settlement. +Ah went behin' him er many er day wid de hoe or he'd crack mah haid. He +use tuh be de sheriff here de years uv de boom an his nephew is de +sheriff now—Grady Wosley. Later en while ah wuz a gull ah werked fuh de +Swilleys an wuz partly raised on dey plantation. De ole man wuz name +Lawson Swilley. His wife, Margaret Swilley, and I clare dem two people +treated me white. She mammied me er many er day. Ah wuz bred and born +right down dar er-round Caledonia. Ah wuz a big gull durin de time uv de +centennial snow. Dis snow wuz called dat cause hit wuz de bigges snow +dat evah been. Hit wuz ovah yo haid. We had tuh spade our way evah whah +we went. Tuh de wood gitting place, tuh de sping, tuh de hoss lot, and +evah whah. De anow wuz warm an soft. We piled up so much snow till hit +took hit er half er year tuh melt. Dat snow stayed on de groun two +months.</p> + +<p>Ah am de muthah uv five gulls and fo' boys. Didn nairy one uv mah gulls +come in de pen till dey wuz mahried. Ah use tuh fish in er big ole fish +pond rat down whah de wesson depot is now. Years ergo people come fum +Camden an othuh places tuh fish in dat fish pond.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam Austin sole old man Burgy (Burgiss?) er piece uv groun' to bury +folks in and he wuz de first man tuh die an be buried dar. So dey name +hit de Burgy Cemetery.</p> + +<p>Down dar in Memphis Addition atah the colored Prof. Dykes place dar use +tuh be one uv de bes' springs. Course at dat time hit wuz er big ole +fiel' den and de watuch wuz jes lak ice watuh.</p> + +<p>Dat make me think. Mah pa sed he went tuh de wah tuh cook fuh his ole +moster, Green Traylor. Well pa said dar wuz er spring whar dey got +watuh. Said he went tuh git watuh outen de sping and had tuh pull dead +men outn de spring an dat day drinked of'n dem dead men all while de wah +wuz going on.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RowlandLaura"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Laura Rowland<br> + (Bright Mulatto)<br> +Age: 65?<br> +Address: Brinkley, Arkansas</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My parents name was Mary Ann and Sam Billingslea. Mother's father lived +with us when I first remember. His name was Robert Todd. He was a brown +skin Negro. They said he was a West Indian. He talked of olden times but +I don't remember well enough to tell you. Father owned a home that we +was living on when I first remember. Mother was bright color, too. +Vaden, Mississippi was our trading post. Mother had twenty children. She +was a worker. She would work anywhere she was put. My folks never talked +much about slavery. I don't know how they got our place.</p> + +<p>"I know they was bothered by the Ku Klux. One night they heard or saw +the Ku Klux coming. The log house set low on the ground but was dug out +to keep potatoes and things in—a cellar like. The planks was wide, bout +a foot wide, rough pine, not nailed down. They lifted the planks up and +all lay down and put the planks back up. The house look like outside +nothing could go under it, it was setting on the hard ground. When they +got there and opened the doors they saw nobody at home and rode off.</p> + +<p>"Another time, one black night, a man—he must have been a +soldier—strided a block step with his horse and ordered supper. She +told him she didn't have nothing cooked and very little to cook. He +cursed and ordered the supper. Told her to get it. She pretended to be +fixing it and slipped out the back door down the furrows and squatted in +the briers in a fence corner. Long time after she had been out there +hid, he come along, jumped the fence on his horse, jumped over her back, +down into the lane and to the road he went. If the horse hadn't jumped +over her and had struck her he would have killed her. Now I think he was +a soldier, not the Ku Klux. I heard my father say he was a yard boy.</p> + +<p>"I married in Mississippi and came to Malvern and Hot Springs. He was a +mill hand. I raised three children of my own and was a chamber maid. I +kept house and cooked for Mrs. Bera McCafity, a rich woman in Hot +Springs. My husband died and was buried at Malvern. I married again, in +Hot Springs, and lived there several years. We went to the steel mill at +Gary, Indiana. He died. I come back here and to Brinkley in 1920. One +daughter lives in Detroit and one in Chicago. The youngest one is +married, has a family and a hard time; the other makes her living. It +takes it all to do her. I get $8.00 on the P.W.A.</p> + +<p>"They all accuse me around here of talking mighty proper. I been around +fine city folks so much I notice how they speak.</p> + +<p>"I don't fool with voting. I don't care to vote unless it would be some +town question to settle. I would know something about it and the people.</p> + +<p>"I don't know my age. I was grown when I married nearly sixty years ago. +We have to show our license to get on the W.P.A. or our age in the Bible +you understand."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RuckerLandy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Landy Rucker<br> + 2315 W. Fourth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1854 in the State of Georgia, Elbert County.</p> + +<p>"I member some about the war. I went to the field when I was twelve. +Pulled fodder, picked peas and tended to the cow pen. I had to go then. +We had <u>a good master</u>. <u>Our mistress wasn't good though</u>. She +wouldn't give us enough to eat. Old master used to ask if we had enough +to eat and he'd pull out great big hams and cut em all to pieces and +give em to us. Old mistress would cry and say, 'You're givin' away all +my good dinner.' But she repented since the war. She said she didn't do +right.</p> + +<p>"We got here to Pine Bluff in '61.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I remember comin' here on the train and on the boat.</p> + +<p>"Old mistress whipped us when she thought we needed it. I been pretty +good all my life.</p> + +<p>"My father was a blacksmith and one day when I was six or seven I was +takin' his dinner when some dogs smelled the dinner and smelled me too +and they got after me. I had to climb a tree and they stayed around till +they heard some other dogs barkin' and ran off. I come down then and +took my bucket and left. Nother time some hogs chased me. They rooted +all around the tree till they heard somethin' crackle in the woods and +run off and then I'd come down.</p> + +<p>"After the war I went to school three days and the teacher whipped me. I +went home and I didn't go back. I went home and went to the field. I had +a mother and a sister and I tried to make a living for them.</p> + +<p>"I went to school a little while after that and then went to the field. +Most I know I learned by myself.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I seen the Yankees bout a year fore the war ceasted. They come +to get somethin' to eat and anything else they could get. Got the mules +and things and took my two brothers and put em in the war. One come back +after surrender and the other one died in the war. They said they was +fightin' to free the niggers from being under bondage.</p> + +<p>"I seen the Ku Klux. Looked like their horses could fly. Made em jump a +big high fence. They come and took my father and all the other men on +the place and was goin' to put em in the Confederate army. But papa was +old and he cried and old mistress thought a lot of him so they let him +stay. I just lay down and hollered cause they was takin' my brothers, +but they didn't keep em long. One of my brothers, six years older than +me, come up here to Pine Bluff to jine the Yankees.</p> + +<p>"We could hear the guns at Marks Mill.</p> + +<p>"I been married twice. There was about eleven years betwixt the two +marriages.</p> + +<p>"I worked on the farm till about '85. Then I worked in the planing mill. +I got hit by a car and it broke my hip so I have to walk on crutches +now. Then I got me a little shoe shop and I got along fine till I got so +I couldn't set down long enough to fix a pair of shoes. I bought this +house and I gets help from the Relief so I'm gettin' along all right +now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RuffinMartha"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Martha Ruffin<br> + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in North Carolina, and I was seven years old when the +Surrender was. Every one of my children can tell you when they was born, +but I can't. My mother, Quinettie Farmer was her name. Brother Robert +Farmer is my cousin. He is about the same age as my husband. He got +married one week and me and my husband the next. My father's name was +Valentine Farmer. My grandmother on my mother's side was Mandy Harrison, +and my grandfather's name on my mother's side was Jordan Harrison. My +grandpa on my father's side was named Reuben Farmer, and his wife was +Nancy Farmer. I have seed my grandpa and grandma on my father's side. +But my mother didn't see them on my mother's side.</p> + +<p>"I 'members my daddy's white folks' names, Moses Farmer. My father never +was sold. My daddy, Valentine Farmer, was a ditcher, shoemaker, and +sometimes a tanner. My mother was a house girl. She washed and ironed. I +couldn't tell exactly what my grandparents did. My grandparents, so my +parents told me, were mostly farmers. I reckon Moses Farmer owned about +three hundred slaves.</p> + +<p>"I was born on Robert Bynum's place. He was my mother's owner. He +married one of the Harrison girls and my mother fell to that girl. My +mother done just about as she pleased. She didn't know nothin' about +workin' in the field till after the Surrender.</p> + +<p>"The way my mother and father happened to meet—my old master hired my +daddy to do some work for him and he met my mama that way.</p> + +<p>"The way my folks learned they was free was, a white school-teacher who +was teaching school where we stayed told my mother she was free, but not +to say nothing about it. About three weeks later, the Yankees come +through there and told them they was free and told my old boss that if +he wanted them to work he would have to hire them and pay them. The +school-teacher stayed with mother's folks—mother's white folks. The +school-teacher was teaching white folks, not niggers. She was a Yankee, +too. My mother was the house girl, and the school-teacher stayed with +her folks. The War was so hot she couldn't git no chance to go back +home.</p> + +<p>"My daddy farmed after the War. He farmed on shares the first year. The +next year, he bought him a horse. He finally owned his own farm. He +owned it when he died. He had about one hundred acres of land.</p> + +<p>"I have pretty fair health for an old woman like I am. I am bothered +with the rheumatism. The Lawd wouldn't let both of us git down at the +same time. (Here she refers to her husband who was sick in bed at the +time she made the statement. You have his story already. It was +difficult for her to tell her story, for he wanted it to be like +his—ed.)</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church. I haven't changed my +membership from my home.</p> + +<p>"I got married in 1882, in February. How many years is that? I got so I +can't count up nothin'. Fifty-six years. Yes, that's it; that's how long +I been married. I had a little sister that got married with me. She +didn't really git married; she just stood up with me. She was just a +little baby girl. They told me I was pretty near twenty-three years old +when I married. I have a daughter that's been married twenty-five years. +We had older daughters, but that one was the first one married. I have +got a daughter over in North Little Rock that is about fifty years old. +Her husband is dead. We had ten children. My daughter is the mother of +ten children too. She got married younger than I did. This girl I am +living with is my baby. I have four children living—three girls and one +boy. A woman asked me how many children I had and I told her three. She +was a fortuneteller and she wanted to tell me my fortune. But I didn't +want her to tell me nothin'. God was gittin' ready to tell me somethin' +I didn't want to hear. I've got five great-grandchildren. We don't have +no great-great-grandchildren. Don't want none."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>The old lady's style was kind of cramped by the presence of her husband. +Every once in a while, when she would be about to paint something in +lurid colors, he would drop in a word and she would roll her phrases +around in her mouth, so to speak, and shift and go ahead in a different +direction and on another gear.</p> + +<p>Very pleasant couple though—with none of the bitterness that old age +brings sometimes. The daughter's name is Searles.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RuffinThomas"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person Interviewed: Thomas Ruffin<br> + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82 or 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in North Carolina, Franklin County, near Raleigh. My +father's name really I don't know. Folks said my master was my daddy. +That's what they told me. Of course, I don't know myself. But then white +folks did anything they wanted to in slavery times.</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Morina Ruffin. I don't know the names of my +grandparents. That is too far back in slavery for me. Of course, old man +Ruffin my father's father, which would have been my grandfather, he died +way back yonder in slave times before the war. My father gotten kilt in +the war. His name was Tom Ruffin. I was named after him. He died trying +to hold us. That man owned three hundred slaves. He never married. +Carried my mother round everywhere he went. Out of all his niggers, he +didn't have but one with him. That was in slavery time and he was a fool +about her.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't tell you exactly when I was born. Up until the surrender I +couldn't tell how old I was. I am somewheres around eighty-two years +old. The old lady is just about the same. We guesses it in part. We +figure it on what we heard the old folks say and things like that. I +remember plenty of things about slavery that I saw.</p> + +<p>"I never did much when I was a boy. The biggest thing I remember is a +mule got to kicking and jumped around in a stall. She lost her footing +and fell down and broke her neck right there in the stall. I remember +her name as well as if it was yesterday. Her name was Bird. That was +just before the war. I know I must have been at least four years old +then. You can figure that up and see what it comes to.</p> + +<p>"I never did any work when I was a child. I jus went to the spring with +the young Mistress and danced for them sometimes. But they never did +give me any work to do,—like they did the others. I lived right in the +biggest house the biggest portion of my time.</p> + +<p>"That day and time, they made compost heaps. Mixed dirt with manure. +They hoed cotton and crops. They didn't know what school was. They +helped with washing and ironing. Did every kind of work they had +strength enough to do till they got big enough to go to the field. That +was what the children did.</p> + +<p>"When they were about seven years old, to the best of my recollection +they would go to the field. Seven or eight. They would pick up corn +stalks and brush. And from that on when they were about eight or nine, +they would pick cotton.</p> + +<p>"My mother never did have to do anything round the farm. She lived about +seventy-five miles from it, there where the master had his office. He +was a lawyer. After I was born, she didn't come out to see me but once a +year that I recollect. When she did come, she would bring me some candy +or cakes or something like that.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see the soldiers during the time of the war. But I saw plenty +of them afterwards—riding round and telling the niggers they were free. +They had some of the finest saddles I ever seed. You could hear them +creaking a block off. No, I didn't see them while they was fighting. We +were close enough to hear the guns crash, and we could see the light +from them, but I didn't actually see the fightin. The Yankees come +through on every plantation where they were working and entered into +every house and told us we was free. The Yankees did it. They told you +you were free as they were, that you didn't have to stay where you was, +that you didn't have no more master, that you could go and come as you +pleased.</p> + +<p>"I got along <u>hard</u> after I was freed. It is a hard matter to tell +you what we could find or get. We used to dig up dirt in the smokehouse +and boil it and dry it and sift it to get the salt to season our food +with. We used to go out and get old bones that had been throwed away and +crack them open and get the marrow and use them to season the greens +with. Jus plenty of niggers then didn't have anything but that to eat.</p> + +<p>"Even in slavery times, there was plenty of niggers out of them three +hundred slaves who had to break up old lard gourds and use them for +meat. They had to pick up bones off the dung hill and crack them open to +cook with. And then, of course, they'd steal. Had to steal. That the bes +way to git what they wanted.</p> + +<p>"They had a great big kitchen for the slaves. They had what you call pot +racks they could push them big pots in and out on. They cooked hog slop +there. They had trays and bowls to eat out of that were made out of gum +wood. It was a long house used as a kitchen for the hands to go in and +eat. They et dinner there and for supper they would be there. But +breakfast, they would have to eat in the field. The young niggers would +bring it out to them. They would bring it about an hour after the sun +rose and the slave hands would eat it right out in the field; that was +the breakfast. You see the hands went to the field before sunup, and +they didn't get to eat breakfast in the kitchen and it had to be et in +the field. Little undergrowth of children—they had plenty of them on +the place—had to carry their meals to them.</p> + +<p>"They would usually give them collars [HW: collards] in green times, +potatoes in potato time. Bread,—they didn't know what that was. White +folks hardly knew theirselves. They didn't have butter and they didn't +have no sugar. Didn't know much about what meat was yet. They would give +the little bits of children pot liquor. That's the most I ever seed them +git. Of course I was treated differently. You couldn't judge them by me. +I was the only half-white youngun round there, and they said I was +half-brother to ol Marse's chillun. And the white chillen would git me +up to the house to dance for them and all like, and they would give me +biscuits or anything good they had. I never seed the others eatin nothin +but pot liquor.</p> + +<p>"Most of the slaves lived in log cabins. You know they never had but one +door. In general where they had large families, they would have two +rooms with a chimney in the middle of the house. The chimney was built +out of mud and straw. I can remember them sawin the timber. Two pulled a +big ol crosscut saw. Didn't have no saw mills then. This world has come +from a long ways. They used to didn't have no plows. It was without +form. You made it at home.</p> + +<p>"They had ol homemade bedsteads to sleep in. They had a little rope that +ran back and forth instead of slats. That was called a corded bed. +Cheers were all made at home and were split bottoms.</p> + +<p>"They didn't many of the slaves have food in their homes. But when they +did, they would jus have a little wooden box and they would put their +food in it.</p> + +<p>"It seems like the white people got to burying their money during the +time of the war. That never come out till after the war. Then they got +to wantin that money and started looking for it. There never was any +talk of buried treasure before the war.</p> + +<p>"My folks didn't give me any schoolin before the surrender. I never got +any before the surrender and a mighty little afterwards. No nigger +knowed anything. I started to farming when I was thirteen years old. I +used to be a fertilizer, and then a cotton sower. That was the biggest I +knowed about farming when I was a boy. My mother lived about fifteen +years after slavery. I reckon.</p> + +<p>"In the time of slavery, you couldn't marry a woman. You just took up +with her. Mother married the same man she had been going with after +freedom. She had four children after the surrender as fer as I can +tell—three girls and two boys.</p> + +<p>"I moved from North Carolina to Louisiana. Stayed there one year and +then moved here. Bought forty acres of land. Bought it after I'd been +here a year. It took me four years to pay for that. Then next time I +bought eighty acres and paid for them. Paid them out in two years. Then +I bought eighty acres more and paid for them in two years. Couldn't pay +for them cash at first, but could have paid for the last eighty when I +bought them if I had a wanted to. Then I bought eighty more and then I +bought eighty again and then forty and on till I had five hundred and +three acres of farm land. I got the three over when I got the sorghum +mill.</p> + +<p>"I left my farm and come to the city for doctor's treatment. My old lady +and I worked out five hundred and three acres of land. I got five +children living. I gave each one of them forty acres of land. Most of +the rest I sold. I got a fellow here that owes me for one of the places +now. He lives over on Third and Dennison. His name is Wright. My old +lady an me held on to that and didn't lose it even in all these hard +years.</p> + +<p>"My daughter kept after me to come here and she built this little house +out here where I could holler or do anything I wanted to do and not +disturb nobody. I couldn't feel at home up in a big house with other +people. Four or five months ago it would take two people to put me to +bed. I would get off from home and have to carry me back. But I am +gettin along fine now. This high blood pressure keeps me from +remembering so well. Ol lady where's my pipe? You didn't find it up to +daughter's? Ain't it in the kitchen? Can't you find it nowheres? What +<u>didju</u> do with it? Well, you needn't look for it no longer. It's +here in my pocket. That's my high blood pressure workin. That whut it +does to you.</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church and have been belonging to it +altogether about sixty-three years. I used to be a Missionary. I been a +member of the church a long time.</p> + +<p>"I think times are jus fulfilling the Bible. The people are wiser now +than we ever known them to be and wickeder. I don't believe the times +you see now will be always. People are getting so wise and so wicked +that I think the end is near at hand. You notice the Germans now are +trying to make slaves out of the Jews. There's the Japans that is jus +slaughtering up the Chinese like they was nothin but dumb brutes. The +world is wickeder than it ever has been before.</p> + +<p>"The young people today! I'd hate to tell you what I do think of them. +The business is going to fall."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RumpleCasper"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Casper Rumple, De Valls Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I will be, providin' the good Lord spare me, 79 years old the first day +of January. I was born in Lawrence County, South Carolina. The Big road +was the dividing line between that and Edgefield County. My mother +belonged to John Griffin. His wife named Rebecca. My father was a +Irishman. Course he was a white man—Irishman. Show I did know him. He +didn't own no slaves. I don't guess he have any land. He was a overseer +in Edgefield County. His name was Ephraim Rumple. What become of him? He +went off to fight the Yankees and took Malaria fever and died on Red +River. I could show you bout where he died.</p> + +<p>"My mother had a big family. I can't tell you much bout them. I was the +youngest. She cooked up at John Griffins. He was a old man and the land +was all his wife's. She was old too. She had some grown girls. He had no +children. They called him Pa and I did too. I stayed round with him +nearly all the time helping him.</p> + +<p>"He had a room and she had a room. I slept on a bed—little +bed—home-made bed—in the room wid him and she slept in the room with +her two girls and my mother slept in the kitchen a whole heap so she be +there to get breakfast early. They riz early every mornin'. John +Griffins wife owned four plantations more than 160 acres in each one, +but I couldn't say how much.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a field hand in busy times too. Miss Rebecca had all the +slaves clothes made. She seed to that. She go to the city, Augusta, and +bring back bolts cloth. One slave sewed for Miss Rebecca and her family. +She didn't do all the sewing but she sewed all the time. One woman done +all the weavin'. At night after they work in the field Miss Rebecca give +em tasks—so many bats to card or so much spinnin' to do.</p> + +<p>"Master John didn't want em to work at night but she made em work all +the same. They b'long to her. Another thing the women had to do was work +in the garden. It was a three acre garden. They always had plenty in +thar. Had it palinged so the young chickens couldn't squeeze through the +cracks.</p> + +<p>"They had plenty stock and made all the fertilizer needed in the garden +and patches. They had goober patch, popcorn patch, sorghum patches, +several of em, pea patches but they was field cabbage patch and +watermellon patch. They had chicken house, goose house, duck house and +way off a turkey pen. It had a cover on it. They had to be cleaned and +all that manure moved to the garden and patches. Old man John Griffin +was a good man. Things went on pretty quiet bout the place. They had to +do their own cooking. They got for the grown ups 3 pounds meat, 1 +pk.[TR:?] meal a week. They fed the young chaps plenty so they wouldn't +get stunted. They keep em chunky till they get old nough to grow up tall +and that make big women and big men. They stunt em then when they start +runnin' up, it cause em to be low. The owners was mighty careful +(not)[HW: ?] to feed the chaps nough to eat so they make strong hands.</p> + +<p>"Men come long the road peddlin' from out the cities, men come long with +droves of horses and mules. They was called horse traders. Then once in +a while they come long tradin' and selling slaves. Nother way they sell +em was at public auction. Iffen a slave steal from another master, like +go in his smoke house or crib and steal, the sheriff have to whip him. +They would have public whippin'.</p> + +<p>"How'd they know was freedom? How'd they not know it was freedom? +Everybody went wild. They was jes' crazy cause they was free. Way I +knowd for certain it was freedom Mr. John Griffin had all the slaves +that hadn't done went off come to the house and he told them they was +all free. Some of em just started walking the roads till they nearly +starved. The government didn't start feeding the slaves till so many +nearly starved. My mother cooked on nearly a year. Then she went to work +for Vaughn in Edgefield County.</p> + +<p>"They didn't give them no land. The white folks was land pore.</p> + +<p>"They didn't have no money. When the masters had money they give the +slaves a little spending money. Nearly all the slaves had a little money +long. They get a pass to split rails for a neighbor and make money. That +was befo freedom. After freedom nobody had money but the Yankee +soldiers. They keep it closer than the folks you been livin' with.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Griffin, he was called General by all the young men. He was too old +to fight so he trained soldiers. He didn't wear a uniform but they did. +They met certain days every week. They wore gray uniforms.</p> + +<p>"They had a battle at Lawrence. It was 17 miles. The soldiers passed +long the Big road. I didn't see the battles. I heard plenty talk about +that conflict at Lawrence though.</p> + +<p>"I heard the slaves was goin' to get 40 acres and a mule. I tell you +they didn't wait to see if they was going to get another meal. They went +wild, walking and hooping up and down the road. They found out when they +nearly starved they had got the bad end of the game somehow. Then to +keep em from starvin' they had certain days to go to Lawrence and get a +little rations. Not much I tell you. They started stealin' and the Ku +Klux started up bout that.</p> + +<p>"The President got killed (Abraham Lincoln). Then they knowed the gig +was up. They had to go to work hard as ever and mighty little to eat. +The slaves did vote. It was the color of the paper they used way they +knowed how to vote. The Republican government had full sway 12 years. +All the offices at Edgefield nearly was Negroes cept the sheriff. The +Yankees tell em what to do way they knowed how. Butler went to Congress. +He was a Negro—(???). That was what the Ku Klux was mad bout. They run +the Yankees out and took holt of the offices soon as they could.</p> + +<p>"Our master had no Ku Klux comin' on our place. He protected us, It +wasn't no different than slavery till I was nearly grown and a drove was +walking going west to better place. I got in with them and come on. The +Ku Klux had killed several Negroes. That scared them all up. I remember +Tuscaloosa, Alabama when we cone through there. We was walking—a line a +mile long—marching and singing. They was building back in a hurry +seemed like to me. The town had been burned up. Some dropped out to get +work along. Some fell out sick. Some so weak they died long the road. +Had to keep up. Some stopped; they never caught up no more. Mostly old +folks or half starved folks couldn't keep going. The Ku Klux whoop and +shoot you down for any little thing. They started at night, fraid of the +Yankees but they whooped and run them out and the Negroes left. The Ku +Klux got so bold they didn't dress up nor go at night neither. At first +they was careful then they got bold. The Yankee soldiers bout all they +was afraid of. The Negroes found out who some of the Ku Klux was and +told the Yankees but it didn't do much good. After bout twelve years all +the Yankees gone back home. The white folks down in Carolina thought +bout as little of them as Negroes. They wouldn't let them have no land +if they did have money to pay any price for it. They didn't want them +living amongst them. They say they rether have a Negro family.</p> + +<p>"The biggest Negro uprisin' I ever seed was at freedom. They riz up in a +hurry.</p> + +<p>"I had to stop and work all along. I got to Arkansas in 1881. I never +went no further. I been all my life farmin'. I cut and sell wood, clear +land. The best living was when I farmed and sold wood. I bought a 10 +acre farm and cleared it up graduly, then I sold it fer $180.00 cause I +got blind and couldn't see to farm it. I had a house on it. I own this +here house (a splendid home). My daughter and her husband come to take +care me. They come from Cincinatti here. She made $15.00 a week up there +three years. I get $8.00 a month now from the Social Welfare. If I could +see I could make money.</p> + +<p>"I never seen times like this. Sin is causin' it. Unrest and +selfishness. No neighborly spirit. I don't bother no young folks. I +don't know how they will come out. If they caint get a big price they +won't work and the white folks are doing their own work, and don't help +like they did. I could get along if I could see. I had a light stroke +keeps me from talkin' good, I hear that."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RussellHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Russell, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My father's name was Ed Russell, and he was owned by Dr. Tom Russell, +de first pioneer settler of Russellville—de' man de town got its name +from.</p> + +<p>"My name is Henry, and some folks call me 'Bud.' I was born at Old +Dwight de 28th of October, 1866. Yes suh, dat date is correct.</p> + +<p>"I was too young to remember much about happenings soon after de War, +but I kin ricollect my father belongin' to de militia for awhile during +de Reconstruction days. Both Negroes and whites were members of de +militia.</p> + +<p>"My folks come here from Alabama, but I don't know much about them +except dat my grandmother, Charlotte Edwards, give me an old wash pot +dat has been in de family over one hundred years. Yes suh, it's out here +in de ya'd now. Also, I owns an old ax handle dat I keep down at de +store jist for a relic of old days. It's about a hundred years old, too.</p> + +<p>"My wife was Sallie Johnson of Little Rock, and she was a sister of Mrs. +Charley Mays, de barber you used to know, who was here sich a long time.</p> + +<p>"For a long time I worked at different kinds of odd jobs, sometimes in +de coal mines and sometimes on de farms, but for several years I've run +a little store for de colored folks here in Russellville. Ain't able to +do very much now.</p> + +<p>"I remember very well de first train dat was ever run into Russellville. +Must have been 68 or 69 years ago. A big crowd of people was here from +all over de country. Of course dere was only a few families living in de +town, and only one or two families of colored folks. People come in from +everywhere, and it was a great sign. Little old train was no bigger dan +de Dardanelle & Russellville train. (You remember de little old train +dey used to call de 'Dinkey' don't you?) Well, it wasn't no bigger dan +de Dinkey, and it didn't run into de depot at all, stopped down where de +dump is now. Sure was a sight. Lot of de folks was afraid and wouldn't +go near it, started to run when two men got off. I saw only two man +working in front of it, but I remember it very plain. Dey was working +with wheelbarrows and shovels to clear up de track ahead.</p> + +<p>"Another thing I remember as a boy was de 'sassination of President +Gyarfield. I can't read or write but very little, but I remember about +dat. It was a dull, foggy mornin', and I was crossin' de bayou with Big +Bob Smith. (You remember 'Big Bob' dat used to have the merry-go-'round +and made all de county fairs.) Well, he told me all about de killing of +de President. It was about 1881 wasn't it?</p> + +<p>"I think times was better in de old days because people was better. Had +a heap more honor in de old days dan dey have now. Not many young folks +today have much character.</p> + +<p>"All right. Come back again. Whenever I kin help you out any way, I'll +be glad to."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>NOTE:</b> Henry Russell is quite proud of the fact that his ancestors were +the first families of Russellville. He is a polite mulatto, uneducated, +and just enough brogue to lend the Southern flavor to his speech, but is +a fluent conversationalist.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RyeKatie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Sallie C. Miller<br> +Person interviewed: Katie Rye, Clarksville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"We lived in Greenbrier, Faulkner County, Arkansas. All stayed at home +and got along very well. We had enough to eat and wear. Mistress was +awful mean to us but we stayed with them until after the war. After the +war master moved us off to another place he had and my father farmed for +his self, master and his pa and ma, and mistress' pa and ma. They awful +good to us, but mistress was so high tempered she would get mad and whip +some of the slaves but she never whipped any of us. She worried so over +the loss of her slaves after the war she went crazy. We had two white +grand pas and grand mas. We colored children called them grandpa and ma +and uncle and aunt like the white children did and we didn't know the +difference. The slaves was only allowed biscuit on Christmas and +sometimes on Sundays but we had beef and plenty of honey and everything +after we moved from the big house. Mistress used to come down to see us +an' my mother would cook dinner for her and master. He was such a +<u>good</u> man and the best doctor in the State. He would come in and +take the babies up (mother had nine children) and get them to sleep for +my mother. His mother would come to the kitchen and ask for a good cup +of coffee and mother would make it for her. The master and his family +were Northern people and my mother was given to the mistress by her +father and mother when she married.</p> + +<p>"After my father bought his own farm about ten miles from the big house, +father would put us all in an ox wagon and take us back to see our white +folks.</p> + +<p>"The mistress claimed to be a Christian and church member but I don't +see how she could have been she was so mean.</p> + +<p>"I think the present day generation mighty wicked. Seems like they get +worse instead of better, even the members of the church are not as good +as they used to be. They don't raise the children like they used to. +They used to go to Sunday School and church and take the children, now +the children do as they please, roam the streets. It is sad to see how +the parents are raising the children, just feed them and let them go. +The children rule the parents now.</p> + +<p>"We sang the old hymns and 'Dixie', 'Carry Me Back to Old Virginia', +'When You and I Were Young, Maggie'."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SamuelsBob"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Miss Hazel Horn<br> +ADDRESS—Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +DATE—Last of April, 1936<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slave</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p><b>Circumstances of Interview</b></p> +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Uncle Bob Samuels</b></big>, Washington, +Arkansas</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—Last of April, 1936</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—Washington, Arkansas</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant—J.C.W. Smith.</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—J.C.W. Smith</p> + +<p>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—Grandmother, Spanish; Grandfather, Negro; father, Negro.</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—Born about 1846</p> + +<p>3. Family—</p> + +<p>4. Places lived in, with dates—</p> + +<p>5. Education, with dates—</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—Tall and straight. He is blind. Clean in +appearance, dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has short, clean, +grey beard. Speaks with a clear accent.</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—Ancestors were in De Soto +expeditions.</p> + +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> + +<p>"From my mother's mother I learned that on my mother's side my ancestor +came with De Soto from Spain where she was educated at Madrid. From +Spain she came to Havana, Cuba, and from there to Tampa, Florida. From +Florida she came to some point in Alabama. From this place she came to +the Mississippi river and the East Bank and crossed where it is called +Gaines Landing. After they crossed the river they went ten kilometers +from there, traveled north from there to where Arkansas County is close +to the mouth of the Arkansas River. Here they camped awhile. When they +broke camp there they traveled northeast to Boiling Springs. Making +their way from here they crossed the Ouachita River on the other side of +Arkadelphia. They traveled on, crossing Little Missouri River below +Wallaceburg. Here they found some Indian mounds. Then they traveled on a +trail from there to Washington, turned into Washington and took a trail +toward Columbus and turned off to the right (Uncle Bob not sure of the +name of this trail) and crossed what is known as Beard's Lake. They +crossed Little River at Ward's Ferry and crossed the Saline river. +Traveling northwest they reached White Oak shoals where Index is now and +crossed over into what was Mexico and traveled to a place called Kawaki +located where [TR: ?] now is.</p> + +<p>"After camping here for a while they came back into Arkansas to some +point near Rando, crossed Red River at Dooley's Ferry, went to Coola +Fabra(?) and back to Boiling Springs. [Here a gold mine was found and a +quarrel ensued, and in a fight De Soto was killed.] They carried his +body overland and buried him in the Mississippi River between +Grensville[HW:sp.] and Vicksburg. [TR: Moved from end of interview: De +Soto was buried at the junction of the Mississippi and [??] Rivers, +about 100 miles south of Vicksburg.] The remaining forces of the +expedition returned to Spain.</p> + +<p>"Sometime in 1816 my mother's mother was born. My mother's mother was +Spanish. My mother says she was well educated. Mother and her mother +have Spanish mixed with Negro blood. I had a sister named Mary and a +brother named John.</p> + +<p>"Armarilla, my grandmother came here from Cuba through to Gaines +Landing. Her son Edmin and her husband were with her. They crossed the +Mississippi River and she said they stopped at the old De Soto camp. A +short distance west of this place they met two men—Nick Trammel and +John Morrow who profitted (dealt) in Negro slaves. My grandfather and +mother employed these men to guide them to Coola Fabre(?) Camden?. From +Little River to Dooley's Ferry these men carried them to Waco, Texas. +They killed my grandfather and kept my grandmother forcing her to marry +either a half-breed Mexican, an Indian or a Negro. It was near Waco in +Hickman[HW:sp.] Prairie that mother was born. The boy Edmin was returned +to Dooley's Ferry and remained in the vicinity until he was about +seventeen years of age. He then lived in the vicinity of Little Rock +about six months before returning to Mexico. My grandmother said that +Mr. Trammel and Mr. Morrow probably thought he might cause trouble and +killed him as she never saw him after he returned from Little Rock. +Mother was held in Lafayette County at a point where the river crossed +and joined Bowie County (Texas) and where Louisiana bounded the south.</p> + +<p>"De Soto traveled by land, not by boat. He had a force of about 550 +persons. The women dressed as men. My grandmother was with her husband.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a slave. She was held in Bowie County, Hickens[HW:sp.] +Prairie, by Bob Trammel. They kept her locked up and I have heard mother +say that she used whale bone, card bats and a spinning wheel. Finally +they got so hot behind the Trammels in 1847-48, they pulled up stakes +and went down on the Guadalupe River and carried my mother's mother down +there. Before they left Dave Block went on Trammel's bond and got my +mother. He made my mother head housekeeper slave. She had been taught +Spanish. She was tall and fair with straight black hair. She was married +to Dick Samuels, my father.</p> + +<p>"After the war my father was elected [HW: Hempstead] County Clerk in +1872 on the Republican ticket. He could neither read nor write, so was +clerk in name only securing one of the white men to attend to the +office. By trade he was a blacksmith."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Uncle Bob Samuels is the son of Richard Samuels and Mary. He was a slave +of David Block. After freedom he came to Little Rock with a sister and a +brother, John. Uncle Bob said he often heard his mother speak of a gold +mine. She had a trunk of maps and charts which her mother had given to +her. In this was supposed to be the papers regarding De Soto's legendary +gold mine. The trunk had been lost as Uncle Bob has no idea where the +gold mine is. He tells the story the same way, never varying a point. He +does not claim to remember Indian trails or names.</p> + +<p>Uncle Bob is tall and straight. He is blind. Was clean in appearance +dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has a short, clean grey beard. He +talks with a clear accent, no Negro accent. During Reconstruction days +he served as County Clerk of Hempstead County under Carpetbaggar rule. +During those days he was a political power to be reckoned with. He was a +national as well as a state figure in the "Lily White Republican" +organization. [His wife was a Negro, good looking, but showed little +trace of much white blood.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SandersonEmma"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person Interviewed: Emma Sanderson<br> +Home: 617 Wade Street, Hot Springs.<br> +Aged: 75</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Emma Sanderson"—"Wade Street". That was all the prospective +interviewer could learn. "Emma Sanderson—ex-slave!" "Wade Street"—"Why +it's way off that way. You go sort of thatta way, and then thatta way."</p> + +<p>A city map disclosed no Wade Street. Maps belonging to a local +abstractor helped not a whit. "Insurance maps are in more detail." +someone advised, "Wade Street," mused the young woman at the desk, "I've +heard of it. We have written a policy for someone there." The head of +the department was new to the city, but he was eager to help. After +about five minutes search—from wall maps to bound volumes of blocks and +back again it appeared that "Wade Street" more frequently known as +"Washington Street" meanders wanderingly from Silver Street, in the +colored section out to the "Gorge addition" inhabited by low economic +level whites.</p> + +<p>Down Malvern Avenue (Hot springs' Beale Street) went the interviewer. On +she went past the offices of a large Chicago packing house. For better +then a block she trudged by dilapidated shops which a few seasons back +had housed one of the key transient centers of the U.S.A. Down the +street she walked, pausing for a moment to note that coffee colored +faces decorated the placards in the beauty shop window—two well groomed +mulatto girls sitting inside, evidently operators. Her course took her +past sandwich joints and pool halls. Nails, she noted as she drifted +along, had been driven into the projection beneath the plate glass +window of the brick bank (closed during the depression—a building and +bank built, owned and operated by negro capital) to keep loungers away. +The colored theater (negroes are admitted only to the balconies of +theaters in Hot Springs—one section of the balcony at the legitimate +theater) she noticed was now serving as a religious gathering place. The +well built and excellently maintained Pythian Bath house (where the hot +waters are made available to colored folk) with the Alice Eve Hospital +(45 beds, 5 nurses, 2 resident physicians—negro doctors thruout the +town cooperating—surgical work a specialty) stood out in quiet dignity. +For the rest, buildings were an indiscriminate hodge-podge of homes, +apartment houses, shacks, and chain groceries. At the corner where "the +street turns white" the interviewer turned east.</p> + +<p>The Langston High School (for colored—with a reputation for turning out +good cooks, football players and academicians) stands on Silver Street. +A few paces from the building the interviewer met a couple of plump +colored women laughing and talking loudly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," was her greeting, "can you tell me where Wade +Street is?" They could and did. They were so frankly interested in +knowing why the white women wanted Emma Sanderson that she told them her +mission. They were not taken aback—there was no servility—no +resentment they were frankly charmed with the idea. Their directions for +finding Mrs. Sanderson became even more explicit.</p> + +<p>When the proper turn off was found the question of Wade versus +Washington Street was settled. A topsy-turvy sign at the intersection +announced that Wade Street was ahead. Emma Sanderson's grandson lived a +couple of blocks down the road.</p> + +<p>Only the fact that she could hear someone inside moving about kept the +interviewer hammering on the door. Finally she was rewarded by a voice. +"Is that somebody a' knockin'?" In a moment the door opened. The +question, "Were you a slave" no matter how delicately put is a difficult +one to ask, but Mrs. Sanderson was helpful, if doubtful that her story +would do much good. "I was just so little when it all happened." But the +interviewer was invited in and placed in a chair near the fire.</p> + +<p>"No ma'am. He ain't my grandson—I's the third grandmother. No son, you +ain't three—you's five. Don't you remember what I told you? Yes, he +stays with me, ma'am. I take care of him while the rest of 'em works.</p> + +<p>"It's hard for me to remember. I was just so little. Yes, ma'am, I was +born a slave—but I was so little. Seems to me like I remember a big, +big house. We was sort of out in the country---out from Memphis. I know +there was my father and my mother and my uncles and my aunts. I know +there was that many. How many more of us old man Doc Walker had—I just +don't know. They must have took good care of us tho. My mother was a +house nigrah.</p> + +<p>"When the war was ready to quit they gave us our pick. We could stay on +and work for wages or we could go. The folks decided that the'd go on in +to Memphis. My Mother and Father didn't live together none after we went +to town. First I lived with Mother and then when she died my Father took +me. My mother died when I was 9. She worked at cooking and washing. When +I was big enough I went to school. I kept on going to school after my +Father took me. He died when I was about 15. By that time I was old +enough to look out after myself.</p> + +<p>"What did I do? I stayed in folkses houses. I cooked and I washed. Then +when I was about 16, I married. After that I had a man to take care of +me. He was a carpenter.</p> + +<p>"We been here in Hot Springs a long time—you maybe heared of +Sanderson—he took up platering and he was good too. How long I been in +Hot Springs—law I don't know—'cept I was a full grown women when we +come.</p> + +<p>"I's had four children—all of 'em is dead. I lives with my grandson. +The little fellow, he'll be old enough to go to school in a year or two. +A dime for him ma'am—an' 2 cents besides? Now son you keep the dime and +you can spend the pennies. I always tries to teach him to save. Then +when he gets big he'll know what to do."</p> + +<p>Dining room and living room joined one another by means of a high and +wide arch. The stove was sensibly set up in this passage. Both rooms +were comfortably furnished with products which had in all probability +been bought new. The child stood close by thruout the entire +conversation. There was no whit of timidity about him, nor was he the +least impertinent. He was frankly interested and wanted to know what was +being said. He received the dime and the pennies with a pleasant grin +and a (grandmother prompted) "Thank you". But the gift didn't startle +him. Dimes must have been a fairly usual part of his life. But a few +minutes before the interviewer left she dropped her pencil. It was new +and long and yellow. The child's eyes clung to it as he returned it. +"Would you like to have it." the young woman asked, "would you like a +pencil of your very own, to draw with?" Would he! The child's whole face +beamed. Dimes were as nothing compared to shiney new pencils. The third +grandchild was overjoyed with his new plaything. Ella Sanderson was +delighted with her great grandchild's pleasure. The interviewer received +a warm and friendly "Good-bye".</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ScottMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Mary Scott<br> + DeValls Bluff or Biscoe<br> +Age:</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I said if ever I seed you agin I'd show you dis here scar on my head. +See here [a puffed-out, black, rusty, not quite round place, where no +hair grew]. Dat dar what my young mistress put on me when I was a chile. +Dock Hardy hired me. He was rich and married a pore gal. It went to her +head. He was good to me. She was mean. She had him whoop me a time or +two for nothin'. They had two little babies, I stayed round wid. I loved +em. I churned, brought in all the wood mighty near, brought bout all the +water from the spring. Master Dock be coming horseback from Franklin, +Tennessee. I knowed bout time I take the babies to meet him. He'd wait +at a big stump we could climb on his horse, take the baby in front and +us up behind him, and put us off on the back piazza at the house. I +wrapped up the churn and quit. She ax me what I quit churnin' for. I say +the butter come. She say it ain't had time. I say it ready to take up +anyhow. She got so mad she throwed a stick of stove wood, hit me on my +head. I run out crying, the blood streamin' down. I started to the +spring, come back and got the water bucket. I got me some water and +brought back a fresh bucket full. I washed my head in cool water where +it was bleedin'. It bled all way back. She say, 'Where you been?' I say +I been to the spring, brought some cool water to the babies. I give em +some I told her. When I got water I always give them some. She took the +bucket, made me go wid her, poured the water out in the path under a +shade tree, and made me take 'nother bucketful home. I thought she was +so mean; I didn't know what she was doing that about. Got to the house +she put me on a clean chemisette. I slipped off down to the feed house, +lay down, my head on the cotton seeds, and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>"When Master Dock come he woke me up, wanted to know why I didn't meet +him. He seen that blood. Went on to the house. He ask her what done my +head that way. She say, 'She went to the spring, fell down, spilled the +water, and hurt it on a rock.' I told him that wasn't so—not so! I told +him all bout it. He told her she ought to be 'shamed treat good little +nigger chap mean. He was so sorry for me. She didn't care. They had been +goin' to old missis house every week. It was three weeks 'fo she would +go. I got to see my mama, 'fo she died.</p> + +<p>"Old Mistress Emily was a doctor woman. Dock told her, 'Mama, Scrubbs +jumps and screams bout a hour late every evening wid her head.' When it +got late it hurt and I screamed and jump up and down. Mistress Emily +come got me in her arms, put me to sleep. When I woke up Dock and Kitty +gone home with the babies. I cried bout being from the babies; I loved +em, never been away from em 'fo. She got three maggots and says, +'Scrubbs, see what I got out your little head.' Mama had died then. She +say, 'Your mama would want me to keep you here wid me.' She kept me till +it healed up. Them maggots big as a sage broom straw. We swept the floor +wid sage straw tied together then. Mistress Emily kept me a month with +her and doctored my head every day. I slept on a pallet and on a little +bed she had in the room. When I went back to Kitty's she wasn't as mean +to me as she been—but mean nough then.</p> + +<p>"My mama named Amy Hardy. She had five boys, three girls. She died with +a young baby. I reckon they had different papas. I was my papa's only +chile. They all said that. Bout a month after I went to Dock and +Kitty's, it was surrender. He (the little Negro girl's father) come, +stayed all night, and took me wid him to live. Dock wanted me to stay; I +love Dock and the children. Every year till a few years ago my head get +sore and run. We tried all kinds medicine on it. Don't know what cured +it.</p> + +<p>"The week 'fo I left there I had a task to make a cut of thread every +night, a reel. When I heard papa was coming to git me, I put cotton bats +under the reels and kivered em up. Good thing papa got me—Kitty would +killed me when she went to spin next week. She been so mean why I done +that way.</p> + +<p>"They never sold any of our set but some on the place was sold. The +mothers grieve and grieve over their children bein' sold. Some white +folks let their slaves have preachin', some wouldn't. We had a bush +arbor and set on big logs. Children set round on the ground. 'Fo freedom +I never went to preachin'. I kept Kitty's babies so she went. Mothers +didn't see their children much after they was sold.</p> + +<p>"Fo freedom they would turn a wash pot upside-down at the door and have +singin' and prayer meetin'. The pot would take up the noise. They done +that when they danced too. I don't know how they found out the iron pot +would take up the noise. They had plenty of em settin' round in them +days. Somebody found it out and passed it on."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="ScottMollieHardy"></a> +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mollie Hardy Scott, R.F.D., DeValls Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 90</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born at Granville, Georgia in Franklin County. I don't know my +age cept I was big enough to plow when young master lef and went to war. +My mother died bout time the war started. We belonged to Miss Eliza and +Master Jim Hardy. He had two boys bout grown, Jim and John. My father +belong to the Linzys. I don't know nuthin much bout them nor him +neither. When the war was done he come and got me and we went to Barton +County, Georgia. When I lef they give me my feather bed, two good +coverlets and my clothes. White folks hated fo me to leave. We all cried +but I never seen em no more. They said he take me off and let me suffer +or die or something. I was all the child my father had but my mother had +ten children I knowed of. We all lived on the place. They lived in a +little log house and I stayed wid em some an up at white folks house +mostly. No I never seed my folks no more. We had plenty to eat. Had meat +and garden stuff. We had pot full of lye hominy. It last several days. +It was good. I seed em open up a pot full of boiled corn-on-the-cob. +Plenty milk and butter. We had wash pot full of collards or turnip +salad. Maybe a few turnips on top and a big piece of fresh meat. We had +plenty to eat and wear long as I lived wid the white folks. We had +goobers, molasses candy to pull and pop corn every now and then. They +fill all the pockets, set around the fire an eat at night. Sometimes we +bake eggs and sweet potatoes, cracklin hoe cake covered up in the ashes. +Bake apples in front of the fire on de hearth. Everybody did work an we +sho had plenty to eat an wear.</p> + +<p>"I had plenty when I stayed at my father's an we worked together all the +time. When he died I married. I've had a hard time not able to work. +There ain't no hard time if yous able to get bout. I pieces quilts an +sells em now. Sells em if I can. For $150 piece (has no idea of money +value). Some women promissed to come git 'em but they ain't come yet. I +wanter buy me some shoes. I could do a heap if they send fo me. I can +nurse. I kept a woman's children when she teached last year (Negro +woman's children).</p> + +<p>"I brought four or five when I come to Arkansas of my own. They all dead +but my one girl I lives wid.</p> + +<p>"Seemed lack so many colored folks coming out West to do better. We +thought we come too. We come on immigrate ticket on the train. All the +people I worked for was Captain Williams, Dr. Givens. Mr. Richardson +right where Mesa is now but they called it 88 then (88 miles from +Memphis). Mr. Gates. I farmed, washed and ironed. I nursed some since +I'm not able to get about in the field. I never owned nothing. They run +us from one year till the next and at the end of the year they say we +owe it bout all. If we did have a good crop we never could get ahead. We +couldn't get ahead nuff not to have to be furnished the next year. We +did work but we never could get ahead. If a darky sass a white land +owner he would be whooped bout his account or bout anything else. Yes +siree right here in dis here county. Darky have to take what the white +folks leave fo em and be glad he's livin.</p> + +<p>"I say I ain't never voted. Whut in de world I would want er vote for? +Let em vote if they think it do em good.</p> + +<p>"I seen a whole gang of Ku Kluxes heap of times when I was little back +in Georgia. I seed paddyrollers and then they quit and at night the Ku +Kluxes rode by. They would whoop or shoot you either if you didn't tend +to yo own business and stay at home at night. They kept black and white +doing right I tell you. I sho was afraid of them but they didn't bother +us. If you be good whose ever place you lives on would keep 'em from +harmin you. They soon got all the bad Yankies ran back North from +Georgia. They whip the black men and women too but it was mostly the men +they watched and heap of it was for stealing. Folks was hungry. Couldn't +help stealin if they seed anything. I seed heap of folks having a mighty +hard time after the war in them restruction (Reconstruction) days. I was +lucky.</p> + +<p>"My daughter would do mo than she do fo me but she is a large woman and +had both her legs broke. They hurt her so bad it is hard fo her to do +much. She good as she can be to everybody. The Welfare give three of us +$10.00 a month (daughter, husband, and Mollie). We mighty glad to get +that. We sho is. I am willin to work if I could get work I could do. +That's my worst trouble. Like I tell you, I can nurse and wash dishes if +I could get the jobs.</p> + +<p>"I don't see much of the real young folks. I don't know what they are +doing much. If a fellow is able he ought to be able to do good now if he +can get out and go hunt up work fo himself. That the way it look like. I +don't know."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ScottSam"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Sam Scott, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Hello dar, Mistah L----! Don' you dare pass by widout speakin' to dis +old niggah friend of yo' chil'hood! No suh! Yuh can't git too big to +speak to me!</p> + +<p>"Reckon you've seen about all dar is to see in de worl' since I seen +you, ain't you? Well, mos' all de old-time niggahs and whites is both +gone now. I was born on de twentieth of July, 1879. Count up—dat makes +me 79 (born 1859), don't it? My daddy's name was Sam, same as mine, and +mammy's was Mollie. Dey was slaves on de plantation of Capt. Scott—yes +suh, Capt. John R. Homer Scott—at Dover. My name is Sam, same as my +father's, of course. Everybody in de old days knowed Sam Scott. My +father died in slavery times, but mother lived several years after.</p> + +<p>"No, I never did dance, but I sure could play baseball and make de home +runs! My main hobby, as you calls it, was de show business. You remember +de niggah minstrels we used to put on. I was always stage manager and +could sing baritone a little. Ed Williamson and Tom Nick was de +principal dancers, and Tom would make up all de plays. What? Stole a +unifawm coat of yours? Why, I never knowed Tom to do anything like that! +Anyway, he was a good-hearted niggah—but you dunno what he might do. +Yes, I still takes out a show occasionally to de towns around Pope and +Yell and Johnson counties, and folks treat us mighty fine. Big +crowds—played to $47.00 clear money at Clarksville. Usually take about +eight and ten in our comp'ny, boys and gals—and we give em a real hot +minstrel show.</p> + +<p>"De old show days? Never kin forgit em! I was stage manager of de old +opery house here, you remember, for ten years, and worked around de old +printin' office downstairs for seven years. No, I don't mean stage +manager—I mean property man—yes, had to rustle de props. And did we +have road shows dem days! Richards & Pringle's Georgia minstrels, de +Nashville students, Lyman Twins, Barlow Brothers Minstrels, and—oh, +ever so many more—yes, Daisy, de Missouri Girl, wid Fred Raymond. Never +kin forgit old black Billy Kersands, wid his mouf a mile wide!</p> + +<p>"De songs we used to sing in old days when I was a kid after de War +wasn't no purtier dan what we used to sing wid our own minstrel show +when we was at our best twenty-five and thirty years ago; songs like +'Jungletown,' 'Red Wing,' and 'Mammy's Li'l Alabama Coon.' Our circuit +used to be around Holla Bend, Dover, Danville, Ola, Charleston, Nigger +Ridge, out from Pottsville, and we usually starred off at the old opery +house in Russellville, of course.</p> + +<p>"I been married, but ain't married now. We couldn't git along somehow. +Yes suh, I been right here workin' stiddy for a long time. Been janitor +at two or three places same time; was janitor of de senior high school +here for twenty-two years, and at de Bank of Russellville twenty-nine +years.</p> + +<p>"Folks always been mighty nice to me—and no slave ever had a finer +master dan old Captain Scott.</p> + +<p>"In de old show days de manager of de opery always said. 'Let de niggers +see de show,' and sometimes de house was half full of colored +folks—white folks on one side de house and niggahs on de other—and +dere never was any disturbance of any kind. Ain't no sich good times now +as we had in de old road show days. No suh!"</p> +<br> + +<p><b>NOTE:</b> Sam Scott, who has been personally known to the interviewer for +many years, is above the average of the race for integrity and +truthfulness. His statement that he was born a few years after slavery +and that his father died during slavery was not questioned the matter +being a delicate personal affair and of no special moment.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="ScrogginsCora"></a> +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Cora Scroggins, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> +Age: 48 or 50</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My mother was born in Spring Hill, Tennessee and brought to Arkansas by +her master. Her name was Margaret. Dr. and Mrs. Porter brought my mother +to Batesville, Arkansas when she was eight years old and raised her. She +was very light. She had long straight hair but was mixed with white. She +never knew much about her parents or people.</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Brook (white) came to De Valls Bluff from Tennessee and +brought her sister soon after the War. She was a very black woman.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Porter had a family. One of their daughters was Mrs. Mattie Long, +another Mrs. Willie Bowens. There were others. They were all fine to my +mother. She married in Dr. Porter's home. Mrs. Porter had learnt her to +sew. My father was a mechanic. My mother sewed for both black and white. +She was a fine dressmaker. She had eight children and raised six of us +up grown.</p> + +<p>"My father was a tall rawbony brown man. His mother was an Indian squaw. +She lived to be one hundred seven years old. She lived about with her +children. The white folks all called her 'Aunt Matildy' Tucker. She was +a small woman, long hair and high cheek bones. She wore a shawl big as a +sheet purty nigh all time and smoked a pipe. I was born in Batesville.</p> + +<p>"My mother spoke of her one long journey on the steamboat and +stagecoach. That was when she was brought to Arkansas. It made a +memorable picture in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Dr. and Mrs. Porter told her she was free and she could go or stay. And +she had nowheres to go and she had always lived with them white folks. +She never did like black folks' ways and she raised us near like she was +raised as she could.</p> + +<p>"She used to tell us how funny they dressed and how they rode at night +all through the country. She seen them and she could name men acted as +Ku Kluxes but they never bothered her and she wasn't afraid of them.</p> + +<p>"I cooked all my life till I got disabled. I never had a child. I wish I +had a girl. I've been considered a fine cook all of my life."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SextonSarah"></a> +<h3>STATE— Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER— Bernice Bowden<br> +ADDRESS— 1006 Oak Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +DATE— November 4, 1938<br> +SUBJECT— Ex-slaves</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p><b>Circumstances of Interview</b></p> + +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Sarah Sexton</b></big>, Route 4, Box 685, Pine +Bluff</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—November 3, 1958, 10:00 a.m.</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—Route 4, Box 685, Pine Bluff, Arkansas</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant—Georgia Caldwell, Route 6, Box 128, Pine Bluff, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—None.</p> + +<p>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.—Frame house, front +porch with two swings. Fence around yard. Chinaberry tree and Tree of +Paradise, Coxcomb in yard. Southeast of Norton-Wheeler Stave Mill just +off Highway 65.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview</b></p> + +<p>"Prewitt Tiller bought my mother and I belonged to young master. In +slavery I was a good-sized-young girl, mama said. Big enough to put the +table cloths on the best I could. After freedom I did all the cookin' +and milkin' and washin'.</p> + +<p>"Now listen, this young master was Prewitt's son.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa's name was Ned Peeples and grandma was Sally Peeples. My mother +was Dorcas. Well, my papa, I ain't never seed him but his name was Josh +Allen. You see, they just sold 'em around. That's what I'm talkin' +about—they went by the name of their owners.</p> + +<p>"I'm seventy-eight or seventy-nine or eighty. That's what the insurance +man got me up.</p> + +<p>"I been in a car wreck and I had high blood pressure and a stroke all at +once. And that wreck, the doctor said it cracked my skull. Till now, I +ain't got no remembrance.</p> + +<p>"You know how long I went to school? Three days. No ma'm I had to work, +darlin'.</p> + +<p>"I was born down here on Saline River at Selma. I done forgot what +month."</p> + +<p>"What kinda work have I done? Oh, honey, I done farmed myself to death, +darlin'. You know Buck Couch down here at Noble Lake? Well, I hoped pick +out eight bales of cotton for him.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had the dollars I had workin' for R.A. Pickens down here at +Walnut Lake. Yes, honey, I farmed for him bout fifteen or twenty years +steady.</p> + +<p>"And he sure was nice and he was mischievous. He called all of us his +chillun. He use to say, 'Now you must mind your papa!' And we'd say 'Now +Mr. Pickens, you know you ain't got no nigger chillun'. He use to say to +me 'Sallie, you is a good woman but you ain't got no sense'. Them was +fine white folks.</p> + +<p>"Honey, these white folks round here what knows me, knows they ain't a +lazy bone in my body.</p> + +<p>"I'se cooked and washed and ironed and I'se housecleaned. Yes'm, I +certainly was a good cook.</p> + +<p>"I belongs to the Palestine Baptist Church. Yes ma'm. I don't know what +I'd do if twasn't for the good Master. I talks to Him all the time.</p> + +<p>"I goes to this here government school. A man teaches it. I don't know +what his name is, we just calls him Professor.</p> + +<p>"Well, chile, I'll tell you the truf. These young folks is done gone. +And some o' these white headed women goes up here truckin'. It's a sin +and a shame. I don't know what's gwine come of 'em."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>This woman lives with her daughter Angelina Moore who owns her home.</p> + +<p>Mother and daughter both attend government school. Both were neatly +dressed. The day was warm so we sat on the front porch during the +interview.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—Grandfather, Ned Peeples; grandmother, Sally Peeples; +Mother, Dorcas Peeples; Father, Josh Allen.</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—On Saline River, Selma, Arkansas. No date.</p> + +<p>3. Family—Two daughters and granddaughter.</p> + +<p>4. Places lived in, with dates—Desha County, Walnut Lake, Noble Lake, +(Arkansas) Poplar Bluff, Missouri. No dates.</p> + +<p>5. Education, with dates—Three days, "after freedom". Attends +government school now.</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—Farmwork, cooking, +laundry work until 1936.</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—Cooking.</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—Member of Palestine Baptist +Church.</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—Medium height, plump, light complexion and +gray hair.</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—Injured in auto wreck seven years +ago.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ShaverRoberta"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Roberta Shaver, West Memphis, Arkansas<br> +Age: 50</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born close to Natchez, Mississippi. Grandma was sold at Wickerson +County, Mississippi. They took her in a wagon to Jackson, Tennessee. She +was mother of two children. They took them. She was part Indian. She was +a farm woman. Her name was Dicy Jackson. They sold her away from the +Jacksons to Dobbins. She was a house woman in Jackson, Tennessee. She +said they was good to her in Tennessee. Grandma never was hit a lick in +slavery. Grandpa was whooped a time or two. He run off to the woods for +weeks and come back starved. He tended to the stock and drove Master +Clayton around. He was carriage driver when they wanted to go places.</p> + +<p>"After freedom grandma set out to get back to grandpa. Walked and rode +too I reckon. She brought her children back. After a absence of five +years she and grandpa went back together. They met at Natchez, +Mississippi. Mama was born after freedom.</p> + +<p>"The way grandma said she was sold was, a strange man come there one day +and the master had certain ones he would sell stand in a line and this +strange man picked out the ones he wanted and had them get their +belongings and put them in the wagon and took them on off. She never +seen grandpa for five years."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ShawMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Shaw<br> + 1118 Palm Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77<br> +Occupation: Laundry work</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Bolivar County, Mississippi. My mother didn't know how +old I was but after freedom I went by Miss Ann Blanchet's—that was my +mother's old missis—and she said I was born in 1861.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know nothin' 'bout slavery or the War. I was born and bred +in the desert and my mother said it was a long time after freedom 'fore +she knowed anything about it. She said there was just lots of the folks +said, to their knowin', they had been free three years 'fore they knowed +anything about it.</p> + +<p>"My husband brought me to Arkansas when I was 35 and I been workin' in +the same family, Captain Jeter's family, ever since-forty odd years.</p> + +<p>"I always have worked hard. I've had the flu only reason I'm sittin' +here now. If I had to sit and hold my hands very long, they'd have to +take me to Little Rock.</p> + +<p>"I been married twice. My last husband was Sam Shaw. He was a great +whiskey man and when whiskey went out, he went to bootleggin' and they +got behind him and he left.</p> + +<p>"He wrote me once and said if I'd borrow some money on my home and send +it to him, he'd come back. I wrote and told him just like I'm tellin' +you that after I had worked night and day to pay for this house while he +was off tellin' some other woman lies just like he told me, I wasn't +goin' to send him money. So I ain't seen him since.</p> + +<p>"I ain't never been to school much. When schools got numerous in +Mississippi they had me behind a plow handle.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jeter made me mad once and I quit. My first husband was a porter +on the railroad and I got on the train and went to Memphis with him.</p> + +<p>"One time he come back from a trip to Pine Bluff and handed me a little +package. I opened it and it was a note from Mrs. Jeter and a piece of +corn bread. She said, 'Now, Mary, you see what I've had to eat. I want +you to come back.' So I went back and stayed 'til she died. And now I'm +workin' for her daughter, Mrs. McEwen. Mrs. Jeter used to say, 'Mary, I +know you're not a Arkansas woman 'cause you ain't got a lazy bone in +your body.'"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="ShawViolet"></a> +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Violet Shaw, West Memphis, Arkansas<br> +Age: 50</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I heard Grandma Katie Williams say she was put up on a high stump and +auctioned off. She told how great-grandma cried and cried and never seen +her no more. Grandma come from Oakland, Tennessee to Mississippi. +Grandma took the two young children and left the other two with +great-grandma. They took her from her husband. She never seen none of +them again.</p> + +<p>"After freedom she didn't know how to find them. She never could get +trace of them. She tried. She never married no more. I was born at +Clarksdale, Mississippi. I have seen Tom Pernell (white), the young +master, come and spend the night with Henry Pernell. Henry had once been +Tom's father's slave and carriage driver. I was too small to know the +cause but I remember that several times mighty well. They fixed him up a +clean bed by hisself. Henry lived in town. But he might have been drunk. +I never seen no misbehavior out of him. It was strange to me to see +that.</p> + +<p>"Freedom—Aunt Mariah Jackson was freed at Dublin, Mississippi. She said +she was out in the field working. A great big white man come, jumped up +on a log and shouted, 'Freedom! Freedom!' They let the log they was +toting down; six, three on a side, had holt of a hand stick toting a +long heavy log. They was clearing up new ground. He told them they was +free. They went to the house. They cooked and et and thanked God. Some +got down and prayed, some sung. They had a time that day. They got the +banjo and fiddle and set out playing. Some got in the big road just +walking. She said they had a time that day."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SheltonFrederick"></a> +<h3>Texarkana District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave<br> +<br> +This information given by: Frederick Shelton<br> +Place of Residence: Dump Section, Texarkana, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: None<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p>In an humble cabin on the outskirts of the city lives a venerable old +negro ex-slave. Although bent with rheumatism and age, he still retains +his mental faculties to a remarkable degree.</p> + +<p>An inquiry as to his health elicited the following reply: "I'se a +willful mind but a weak body. Just like an old tree—de limbs are +withered and almost dead. I'se been here a long tins, ovah 81 years, and +am ready to go any time de good Lawd says de word. Dat's de trouble wid +de people nowadays—dey ain't prepared. Back when I wuz a young man, dey +wuzn 't so much meaness, and such goings on as dey are nowadays. De +young-peple know as much as de old folks. Yas, suh, de worl' am goin' to +de dogs."</p> + +<p>Asked about life in pioneer days, the old negro replied; "We had lots ob +good times in dem days. Log rollings wuz lots ob fun to me as I wuz +strong den, an' I could "show off" befo' de odder niggers. Dey wuzn't +much rollin' to it, mostly carrying. I mind de time when I lifted de end +ob a log, an' four men tried at different times to lift de odder, but +dey couldn't do it. Three of dese men went to an early grave from trying +to lift dis log—all tore up inside. Maybe dat's whut ails me.</p> + +<p>"You had to be careful den, when traveling through de woods, or de +varmints would git you, especially at night. I mind de time when a negro +wuz comin' through de woods one nite, when he seed a panther about to +spring on him.</p> + +<p>"Dis nigger dropped in his tracks lack he wuz dead. De panther came up to +him and smelled ob him, but de nigger held his breath, and de panther +thought he wuz dead. De panther covered him wid leaves an' went about +one hundred yards into de woods to call his friends to de feast. No +sooner had he left when de nigger jumped up and climbed a tree, first +rutting an old chunk of wood in de place where he wuz buried. De nigger +could hear de panther out in de woods as he called for his friends, and +pretty soon, here dey come, about five of 'em. Slowly circling aroun' de +place where de nigger had been, all of a sudden dey all jumped. Findin' +nothin' but de old chunk of wood, dem panthers got real mad. Wid angry +growls, dey jumped on de one whut had called dem, and ate him up."</p> + +<p>This old negro reserves all of the heroic roles for others. Asked if he +had had any experience with the "varmints", as he termed them he said: +"Yas, suh. De worst scared I ever got wuz frum a wolf. Walkin' down a +trail one day, I spied a wolf not more than ten feet away. Man, I wuz so +scared dat I seemed to freeze in my tracks, and couldn't move. I tried +to holler but all I could do wuz croak. Den I tried to whistle but de +only sound I could make wuz a hiss. After standing for whut seemed +hours, wid his ears sticking straight up, de wolf finally turned around +and trotted away."</p> + +<p>The conversation drifted to other topics, and finally to ghosts and +spirits. The old negro said he had never seen a ghost, and didn't +believe in those things. No sooner had he said this when his wife, who +had been listening in on the conversation from the inside of the door +exclaimed: "I does! Seein' is believin' aint it? Well suh, about two +years ago de negro dat lived next door died. A few weeks after he died I +wuz settin' out on de porch when I see dis negro come out of de house, +and walk slowly to de corner of mah yard where he vanished into de air. +A few nights later de same thing happened again. No suh, dat nigger +didn't go to Heaven and he didn't go to Hell. He's still around heah. He +wuz a wicked negro and wuz scared to go."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SheltonLaura"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Samuel S. Taylor<br> +ADDRESS—Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +DATE—December, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slave</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p><b>Circumstances of interview</b></p> +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Laura Shelton</b></big>, 1518 Pulaski Street, +Little Rock, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview interview—</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—1518 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any who put you in touch with +informant—</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—</p> + +<p>Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.—</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—mother, Susan Barnett; father, Ben Bearden; grandfather, +Harvey Barnett.</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—Arkansas, 1878</p> + +<p>3. Family—Three children.</p> + +<p>4. Education, with dates—</p> + +<p>5. Places lived in with dates—Jerome, Arkansas and Little Rock. No +dates.</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—Farmed, wash and iron.</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—Belongs to Baptist Church.</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—</p> + +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> + +<p>"My mother used to sit down and talk to us and tell us about slavery. If +she had died when I was young I wouldn't have known much. But by her +living till I was old, I learned a lot.</p> + +<p>"My mother's old master was Tom Barnett, so she said. No, not 'so she +said' because I have seed him. He give her her age and all at that time. +I have it in my Bible. He said that she was twelve years old the +Christmas before the surrender. The surrender was in May, wasn't it?</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Susan Bearden. She married Ben Bearden. She worked +in Tom Barnett's house. She milked and churned and 'tended to the +children and all such as that. He never allowed her to go to the field. +Neither her mother, my grandmother. She was the cook. My mother's name +before she married was Susan Barnett.</p> + +<p>"An old colored lady that they had there seed after the colored +children. She looked after my mother too. She was so old she couldn't do +nothin' so they had her to look after the children. My grandmother was +kept busy because she had the white folks to cook for and she had all +the colored folks to cook for too.</p> + +<p>"There is an old lady down on Spring Street that can give you a lot of +information about slavery times.</p> + +<p>"A boy was telling her that somebody was going 'round asking questions +about slavery and she said she wished he would come and see her.</p> + +<p>"My mother never had any chance to go to school before freedom and she +never had any chance to go afterwards because she didn't have any money. +When they turned them loose the white folks didn't give 'em anything, so +they had to work. They didn't allow them to pick up a piece of paper in +slave time for fear they would learn.</p> + +<p>"My mother remembered the pateroles. She said they used to catch and +whip the colored men and women when they would get out.</p> + +<p>"My mother's old master was the one that told mama she was free. He told +her she was free as he was. After they learned that they were free, they +stayed on till Christmas.</p> + +<p>"After Christmas, they went to another plantation. My gran'pa, he come +and got them all to come. My gran'pa's name was Harvey Barnett. His old +master's son had married and he had been staying with him. That made him +be on another place. There was a good many of the children in my +grandmother's family. Mama had a sister named Lucy, one named Lethe, one +named Caroline, one named Annie, and one named Jane. She had two +boys—one named Jack, and one named Barnett. She had another sister +named—I don't remember her name.</p> + +<p>"After freedom, we sharecropped for a number of years up until my father +died. He died about twenty-four years ago.</p> + +<p>"After that mama washed and ironed for about ten or twelve years. Then +she got too old to work and we took care of her. My mother died last +March on the ninth day. She always had good health for an old lady. +Never got so she couldn't get up and do her light work such as dress +herself, cooking, sweeping, and so on. She would even do her own washing +and ironing if we would let her. She would hide from us and pick cotton +till we stopped her.</p> + +<p>"She was sick only one week and the doctor said she died of old age. He +said it was just her time. She didn't have nothin' the matter with her +but jus' old age he said so far as he could find. Dr. Fletcher was our +doctor. She died in Jerome, Arkansas about sixteen miles from the +Louisiana line. Leastwise, they tell me it's about sixteen miles from +the line. She always told us that she had her business fixed with the +Lord and that when she taken sick, It wouldn't be long. And sure 'nough, +it wasn't.</p> + +<p>"I farmed until my mother and brother died. Then I came up here with my +sister as I had no children living. I jus' wash and iron now whenever I +can get somethin' to do.</p> + +<p>"I have been married once. I had three children. All of them are dead. +My children are dead and my husband is dead.</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Baptist church down on Spring Street. I always unite +with the church whenever I go to a place. I don't care whether I stay +there or not.</p> + +<p>"My mama's master was good as far as white folks generally be in slavery +times. He never whipped my grandmother nor my mother. He was good to the +field hands too. He never whipped them. He would feed them too. He had +right smart of field hands but I don't know just how many. I don't think +he ever sold any of his slaves. I think he come by them from his father +because I have heard them say that his father told him before he died +never to 'part with Black Mammy. That was what he called her. And he +kept them altogether jus' like his father told him to. His father said, +'I you to keep all my Negroes together and Black Mammy I don't want you +let her be whipped because she nursed all of you.' She said she never +was whipped 'cept once when she got a cockle berry up her nose and he +got it out and gave her a little brushing—not as much as grandma would +have given her.</p> + +<p>"He kept them all in good shoes and warm clothes and give them plenty to +eat. So many of the slaves on other plantations didn't have half enough +to eat and were half naked and barefooted all the time."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ShoresMahalia"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mahalia Shores, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Greene County, Georgia. My owner was Jim Jackson. He +bought my mother's father. She was raised on Jim Jackson's place. I +rec'collect a right smart about slavery times. He made us dress up and +let the nigger traders see what little niggers I got. We thought it was +nice. What fine limbs we had. Aunt Judy—some called her 'big +mamma'—lived down under the hill. She was old and seen after the +children. The biggest children took care and nursed the little ones. On +Wednesday and Saturday the cook made ginger cakes for the little +children. The house girl called us. She was Aunt Teena's girl. Aunt +Teena was a housemaid. See little niggers coming from every direction to +get our cakes.</p> + +<p>"Jim Jackson's wife was named Mariah. They lived in a big fine white +house. When it was freedom a soldier come, brought a paper and Massa Jim +was settin' on the porch. Tom Chapman was his overseer. They rung the +big farm bell and had the oldest niggers stand in a line and us little +ones in front so we could all see. Tom Chapman read the paper and stood +by the soldier. He had two big plantations. Massa Jim got sick that day +and vomited and vomited. He lived a week or two weeks. They sent for Dr. +Ducham but he couldn't do him no good. He died. Massa Jim told them they +could take the teams and go to town, all he ax of 'em was to feed and +take care of 'em. Every one of the grown folks went and left us at home. +Aunt Judy seen 'bout us like she been doing all the time. They went over +to Greensboro to celebrate. They all come back. They was all ready fer +their breakfastes. It was twelve miles from Greensboro. Then the next +day Massa Jim or Tom Chapman, one called the grown folks to the house +and told them, 'You can stay and I will pay you or you can go. I pay no +more doctor bills. I don't feed you no more nor give you no more +clothes.' Some moved and some hired to him. Some went to his +father-in-law's place and some to his brothers' place and around. His +wife was rich. She was Dave Butler's gal. No, I mean Massa Jim's +wife—Miss Mariah. That big place was what her pa give her. Massa Jim +had five hundred little niggers on that place and lots more on the big +plantation. He had about two thousand little niggers. We went in droves +is right.</p> + +<p>"I never went to a table in slavery time. We had our plates and cup and +took it to the pot and they put some victuals in 'em, then we went and +et where we pleased. We had all the meat we could eat and all the milk +we could drink all the time. Aunt Teena sewed and grandma would weave +cloth. They made white aprons. My hair was nice and old mistress would +tell Aunt Judy to curl my hair. They rolled it up on cloth and on little +light cobs. If they wet it, it would stay curled.</p> + +<p>"Massa Jim sold his niggers when he wanted to. He sold my grandpa and +Uncle Steve. Grandma wanted him to sell her and he wouldn't do it. I +don't know what become of grandpa. After freedom Uncle Steve come back +to us all. Grandpa was crying. He come to our house and said he had to +go. We never seen him no more.</p> + +<p>"Some of the slaves wouldn't be whooped by Tom Chapman. I heard them say +since I got grown he 'tacked 'em. It caused trouble. He couldn't whoop +'em then. Old master whooped some of 'em. Some would say, 'I take ten +licks offen you and that is all.' Then he would sell them the first +chance. They would go to the woods if he beat them too much. He didn't +abuse his niggers. He said his niggers was his property. Aunt Sarah +tended to the cows and Aunt Clarisa raised geese, turkeys, chickens, +ducks, and churned.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux come to our house, called Uncle Billy—that was my papa. +They got him up out of bed. One man said, 'I ain't had no water since +the battle of Shiloah.' He had pa draw water till daybreaking. He had a +horn he poured the water in. We was all scared half to death. Next +morning there was a branch from the well done run off. Something took +place about a well. Uncle Neel Anderson and Uncle Cush dug wells for +their living. They come after them. Aunt Mandy had a baby. They pitied +her and Uncle Neel got so scared he run upstairs in his shirt tail and +stuck his head in the cotton. They found him that way. Uncle Cush said, +'Come on, Neel, and go with me.' They whooped Uncle Cush in his shirt +tail. If you didn't open the door they would break it in.</p> + +<p>"I worked in the field in Georgia and Arkansas both. I cooked since I +was twelve years old. I married when I was twenty years old. I cooked +here in Marianna eighteen years and I have cooked three Sunday dinners +on Saturday and Sunday together. I would make three dollars when I done +that. I had five children and I raised one boy. I washed and ironed. I +get some help from the Welfare but I saved and my good old man saved so +we would have plenty when we got old. Folks burnt up two of my houses. I +got three more not fitten to live in till they are covered. I got good +property in Stuttgart but couldn't pay the tax on it and 'bout to loose +it. I tried to get a loan and never could. We niggers have a hard time."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimmonsRosa"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Rosa Simmons<br> + 823 West 13th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes mam, I was here during that Civil War. I was fifteen years old +then. I was born In Tennessee.</p> + +<p>"My boss man carried all the best hands to Texas and carried the scrub +hands across Cypress Creek here in Arkansas, and that's where I come. I +was fifteen when the Yankees come in on my boss man's place, so you know +now I ain't no baby. I thank God that He left me here to get old.</p> + +<p>"Before the war. I nussed two babies—my mistress' baby and her sister's +baby. Yes'm we had a good master and mistress. We didn't suffer for +nothin' and we didn't have no overseer over us. Colonel Maples was my +master. No'm he wasn't no soldier—that was the name his mother give +him.</p> + +<p>"When my folks first come to Arkansas we lived in a cabin that just had +a balin' sack hangin' in the door and one night a bear come in and my +brother and I broke a board off the side and fell right out in the cane. +We all hollered so some folks come down and shot the bear. I ain't never +seed a bear before and I didn't know what it was.</p> + +<p>"I 'member when the Yankees come to my boss man's place. They wanted to +shake hands but he was scared to death and wouldn't do it. Another time +the Yankees captured him and kept him three months. They took his horse +and he finally come home on a mule that didn't have but three legs. I +guess the Yankees give him the mule. He turned the old mule loose and +said he never wanted to see another Yankee. If he saw any kind of a +white man comin' down the road he run in the house and hid between the +feather bed and the mattress.</p> + +<p>"One time the Yankees come and drunk the sweet milk and took all the +butter, turkeys and hogs and then broke the powder horn against the +maple tree.</p> + +<p>"The cook say 'I'm gwine tell Marse Joe you drink all this milk.' The +Yankees say, 'Let the damn fool alone—here we are tryin' to free her +and she ain't got no sense.' They said there wouldn't be any more hard +times after the war.</p> + +<p>"But I sure have seen some hard times. I have washed and cooked and done +'bout everything.</p> + +<p>"When I get up in the morning I got the limburger (lumbago) in my back +so I ain't able to do much. Sometimes I have something to eat and +sometimes I don't."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsFannie"></a> +<h3>Mrs. Carol Graham<br> +Mrs. Mildred Thompson<br> +El Dorado District<br> +<br> +Fannie Sims.<br> +Customs.</h3> +<br> + +<p>"How ole is ah? Ise about 78. Yes'm ah wuz live durin de wah. Mah ole +moster wuz Mistuh Jake Dumas we lived near de Ouachita rivuh bout five +miles fum El Dorado landin. Ah membush dat we washed at de spring way, +way fum de house. What dat yo say? Does ah know Ca'line. Ca'line, lawsy, +me yes. Ca'line Washington we use tuh call huh, she wuz one uv Mr. Dumas +niggers. We washed fuh de soldiers. Had tuh carry day clo'es tuh dem +aftuh dark. Me an Ca'line had tuh carry dem. We had tuh hide de horse +tuh keep de soldiers fum gittin him. When we would take de horse tuh de +plum orchard we would stay dah all day to dark wid "Blackie". Dat wuz de +horse's name. Mah job mostly wuz tuh watch de chillun an feed mah +mistress chickens.</p> + +<p>"Ah kin recollect when dey took us an started tuh Texas an got as fur as +El Dorado and found out dat us niggers wuz free. We went back an +grandma's mistress's son took us home wid him fuh stretches and +stretches. We lived on de ole Camden road.</p> + +<p>"In mah days ah've done plenty uv work but ah don' do nothing now but +piece quilts. Dat's whut ah've been doing fuh mah white fokes since ah +been heah. Ah jes finished piecing and quiltin two uv em. De Glove[TR:?] +and de Begger. Mah husban' been dead 31 years dis pas' August. No, ah +counts is by dose twins ah raised. One uv em lives in dis heah place +right heah. Ah aint much count now. Sometime mah laig gets so big ah jes +had tuh sloop mah foot erlong."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsJerry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Jerry Sims (Indian and Negro)<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1859</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1859 close to Natchez, Mississippi. Chief Sims was my +grandpa. He was Indian, full blood. His wife was a Choctaw Indian. +Grandpa was a small red Indian. They kept my pa hid out with stock +nearly all time of the Civil War. Both my mas' parents was nearly all +Indian too but they was mixed. I'm more Indian than anything else. I +heard pa talk about staying in the cane brakes. Mighty few cane brakes +to be found now. I come with my grandpa and grandma to Arkansas when I +was five years old.</p> + +<p>"My ma belong to Quill and Sely Whitaker. I et and slept with Hattie and +Bud and Rob Whitaker. Quill Whitaker was a Union surgeon in the Civil +War.</p> + +<p>"I don't think any of my folks was ever sold. They was of a porer class +and had to have a living and sorter become slaves for a living. I never +heard ma say how she got in bondage. Pa stayed with John Rob bout like a +slave.</p> + +<p>"I am a farmer. I am not on the PWA. Times for me is hard. You see some +has so much and others hardly can live atall.</p> + +<p>"It is not for me to say about the young generation. I have mighty +little to do with any of them.</p> + +<p>"I have voted but not lately. I never did understand voting."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsVictoria"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Victoria Sims, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Limestone County, Alabama. It was on a river. Where I was +born they called it Elks Mouth. Our owners was Frank Martin and Liza +Martin. They raised papa. Their daughter aired (heired) him. Her name +was Miss (Mrs.) Betty Hansey. Papa's name was Ed Martin. I stood on a +stool and churned for papa's young mistress. The churn was tall as I +was. I loved milk so good and they had plenty of it—all kinds. Soon as +ever I get through, they take up the butter. I'd set 'round till they +got it worked up so I could get a piece of bread and fresh butter and a +big cup of that fresh milk. They always fixed it for me.</p> + +<p>"Mama was Minthy Martin. She cooked on another place. She was a nurse. +Her papa belong to one person and her mother to somebody else. Mama was +Minthy Bridgeforth but I don't have her owner's name. I guess she was +sold. I heard her say the Bridgeforth's was good to her. Some white man +whooped on her once. I never heard her say much about it. Papa's owners +was good to him. They was crazy about him. I knowed papa's owners the +best and I lived there heap the most. I was born a slave but I don't +know who I belong to. I've studied that over myself. I used to go back +to see papa's owners. They owned lots of slaves and lots of land. Papa +done a lot of different things. He fed and farmed and cleaned off the +yards and slopped the pigs. He done what they said do, well as I can +recollect. I wasn't with mama till after freedom. Mama said her white +folks was treated mighty mean during the War. Once the soldiers come and +mama was so scared she took the baby and run got in the cellar. They +throwed out everything they had to eat. They took off barrels of things +to eat and left them on starvation. One soldier come one time and wanted +mama to go to the camps. She was scared not to go, scared he'd shoot her +down. She told him she'd go the next day soon as she could get up her +things and tell her folks she had gone. He agreed to that. Soon as he +left she and some other young women on the place put out to the cane +brakes and caves. She said they nearly starved. The white folks sent +them baskets of victuals several times. Mama said she had some pretty +beads she wore. Somebody had made her a present of them. She loved 'em. +I think she said they was red. Mama's mistress told her to hide her +beads, the soldiers would take them. She hid them up in the loft of +their house on a nail. One day a gang come scouting and they rummaged +the whole house and place. When the soldiers left she thought about her +beads and went to see and they was gone. She cried and cried about them. +That was before she went to the canebrakes.</p> + +<p>"When freedom come on, the owners told them they was free. They didn't +leave and then they made a way for them to stay on. They stayed on.</p> + +<p>"I was grown when we come to this state but we lived in Tennessee a few +years. Mama had had nine children by that time. All was dead, but us two +girls and my brother. We come to Arkansas with our parents. We heard the +land was new and rich. I wasn't married then.</p> + +<p>"I've worked hard in the field all my life till last year or so. I still +do work.</p> + +<p>"Times is tough here I tell you. I get a little help, six dollars.</p> + +<p>"Some of the young folks won't work, some not able to work. If anybody +saving a thing I don't hear about it."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsVirginia"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Virginia Sims<br> + 1121 N. Magnolia<br> + Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 93<br> +Occupation: Retired Midwife</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1844. I was twenty when peace was declared. I was born in +Virginia. Yes ma'am, but I was sold, put up on a stump just like you +sell hogs to the highest speculator. I was sold with my mother from a +man named Joe Poindexter and bought by Tom Murphy and brought to +Arkansas. My God, every Murphy round here knows me. Yes'm, my mother and +me was sold. Papa wasn't sold, but he come here the second year after +surrender.</p> + +<p>"I was old enough to spin twelve cuts a day—had it to do. And I could +weave cloth just like they do now.</p> + +<p>"Had seven brothers and I'm the onliest girl.</p> + +<p>"I can recollect when Miss Mary Poindexter died. They said I was two.</p> + +<p>"My mistis in Arkansas was Mrs. Susan Murphy. That was out on the +plantation, we didn't live in no city—my God, no!</p> + +<p>"The way my people acts now, they looks foolish. I never heard a person +curse till I come up here. I was a grown young lady nineteen years old +when our master lowed us to get out and cote. You better not. The first +husband I married I was nineteen goin' on twenty. My husband fought on +the Southern side. His master sent him as a substitute.</p> + +<p>"My master put good clothes on me, I'd say. 'Master. I wants a dress +like so and so, and I wants a pair of shoes.' Yes ma'am, and he got em +for me. I was forty-three and married to a nigger fore I knowed what +twas to cry for underwear.</p> + +<p>"I member they was a white man called Dunk Hill and he said, 'Virginia, +who freed the niggers?' I said, 'God freed the niggers.' He said, 'Now, +Virginia, you goin' be just as free as I am some day!'</p> + +<p>"General Shelby's troops was comin' on this side the ribber. That's one +time I was scared. Never seed so many men in my life. They wanted +something to eat. Mama cooked all night. They was nine hundred and +somethin'. I toted canteens all night long.</p> + +<p>"I member when they had that Marks Mill battle. My husband was there and +he sent word for me to come cause he had the measles and they had went +in on him. I had to put on boots and wade mud. Young folks now ain't got +no sense. I see so many folks now with such dull understanding. Marks +Mill was the onliest part of the war I was in.</p> + +<p>"General Shelby and Captain Blank, they whetted their swords together +when peace was declared. Captain said, 'General, I'm not crazy and +neither am I a coward. I looked up and seem like a man was comin' out +the clouds, and so I'm goin' to surrender.'</p> + +<p>"Them cavalry men—they'd say, 'Ride!' and how they'd go.</p> + +<p>"I seen em when they was enlistin'. Said they was goin' to whip the +Yankees and be back for breakfast in the morning.</p> + +<p>"Marse Ben was goin' and Miss Susan say, 'Virginia, if you think he +ain't goin' come back you ought to kiss him goodbye.' I said, 'I ain't +goin' to kiss no white man.'</p> + +<p>"Miss Fanny went up the ladder and sot rite on the roof and watched the +soldiers goin' by. Yes'm. Old master whipped me with a little peach +stick cause I let Frankie—we called her Frankie—go up the ladder. I +said I couldn't stop her cause she said if I told her papa, she and +Becky goin' to whip me. He whipped Miss Fanny. Old miss come in and say, +'Ain't you goin' whip this nigger?' She was mean as the devil. Oh, God, +yes. She so mean she didn't know what to do. But old master kep her +down. You know some of these redheaded women, they just as devilish as +they can be. We had some neighbors, Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Daniels and old +miss would be out there on the lawn quarrelin' till it was just like a +fog. Us niggers would be out there listenin'.</p> + +<p>"But I was always treated good. You know if I had been beat over the +head I couldn't recollect things now. My head ain't been cracked up. +Nother thing. I always been easy controlled.</p> + +<p>"I never went to school a day. After we was freed we stayed right on the +Murphy place. They paid us and we worked on the shares. That's the +reason I say I done better when I was a slave."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SingfieldSenya"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Senya Singfield<br> + 1613 W. Second Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Washington, Virginia right at the foot of the Blue Ridge +Mountains. My mother was sold when I was a babe in her arms. She was +sold three times. I know one time when she had four children she was +sold and one of my brothers was sold away unbeknownst to her. Her old +master sold her away from her mistress. She was a cook and never was +mistreated.</p> + +<p>"I ain't never been to school. When I got big enough, my mother was a +widow and I had to start out and make a living. I've always been a cook. +Used to keep a boarding house, up until late years. I've washed and +ironed, sewed a right smart and quilted quilts. I've done anything I +could to turn an honest living. Oh I've been through it but I'm still +here. I've been a widow over forty years.</p> + +<p>"I think the folks nowdays are about run out. They are goin' too fast. +When I was comin' up, I had to have some manners. My mother didn't low +me to 'spute nobody."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SloanPeggy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Peggy Sloan<br> + 2450 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 80, or more<br> +Occupation: Farming</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Arkansas in Tulip, in Dallas County I think it is, isn't +it?</p> + +<p>"Charlotte Evans was mother's name and my father's name was Lige Evans. +Gran'daddy David was my mother's father, and Cheyney was my mother's +mother.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Johnnie Sumner was the name of my young master, and the old man was +Mr. Judge Sumner. The old people are all dead now. Mr. Judge Sumner was +Johnnie Sumner's father. Me and Mr. Johnnie suckled together. Mr. +Johnnie came to Fordyce they say looking for the old slaves. I didn't +know about it then. I never would know him now. That is been so long +ago. I sure would like to see 'im.</p> + +<p>"My mother ain't told me much about herself in slave times. She was a +nurse. She lived in a log cabin. You know they had cabins for all of +them. The colored lived in log houses. The white people had good houses. +Them houses was warmer than these what they got now.</p> + +<p>"My grandma could cut a man's frock-tail coat. These young people don't +know nothin' 'bout that. Grandma was a milliner. She could make anything +you used a needle to make.</p> + +<p>"Lige Evans was the name my father took after the surrender. He wasn't +named that before the surrender—in the olden times. My mother had +fifteen children. She was the largest woman you ever seen. She weighed +four hundred pound. She was young Master Johnnie's nurse. Mr. Johnnie +said he wanted to come and see me. I heard he lives way on the other +side of Argenta somewheres.</p> + +<p>"I was my mama's seventh girl, and I got a seventh girl living. I had +fifteen children. My mother's children were all born before the +surrender.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Judge Sumner and his son were both good men. They never whipped +their slaves.</p> + +<p>"They didn't feed like they do now. I et corn bread then, and I eat it +now. Some people say they don't. They would give them biscuits on +Sundays. They had a cook to cook for the hands. She got all their meals +for them.</p> + +<p>"They had a woman to look after the little colored children, and they +had one to look after the white children. My mother was a nurse for the +white children. My mother didn't have nothing to do with the colored +children.</p> + +<p>"I didn't never have no trouble with the pateroles. Sometimes they would +come down the lane running the horses. When I would hear them, I would +run and git under the bed. I was the scaredest soul you ever seen. I +think that's about all I can remember.</p> + +<p>"I was the mother of fifteen children. I had one set of twins, a boy and +a girl. The doctor told me you never raise a boy and a girl twin. My boy +is dead. All of my children are dead but two.</p> + +<p>"I was raised on the farm. I want a few acres of ground now so bad.</p> + +<p>"I never was married but once. My husband's name was David Sloan. I +don't know exactly how long he and me were married. It was way over +twenty years. My license got burnt up.</p> + +<p>"You know I couldn't be nothin' but a Christian."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Peggy Sloan's memory is going. She is not certain of the number of +children her mother had although she knows there were more than seven +because she was the seventh.</p> + +<p>She remembers nothing about her age, but she knows definitely that all +of her mother's children were born before the War—that is before the +end of the War. Since the War ended seventy-three years ago and she was +the seventh child with possibly seven behind her, I feel that she could +not be younger than eighty. She remembers definitely running at the +approach of men she calls pateroles during "slavery time."</p> + +<p>Her mind may be fading, but it is a long way from gone. She questioned +me closely about my reason for getting statements from her. She had to +be definitely satisfied before the story could be gotten.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmallwoodArzella"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Arzella Smallwood<br> + Hazen R.F.D., Green Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 60 Doesn't know exact age</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born about eight miles from Williston, South Carolina. After +freedom my mother married Lee Ballinger and she had six children. He +died when I was real small. My mother was named Hester McCrary. Old +Master McCrary bought grandma and my mother in Virginia. One sister my +mother never did run across after freedom. She was older and sold to +other people. I think at freedom my mother left and I think grandma did +too. My grandpa was half Indian, but I never did see him to remember +what he looked like. Our young master is a doctor. He waited on my +mother before she died. Grandma was blind and she lived with us. Our +young master may still be living. Old mistress was named Sylvania and +she sent for my mother to come wait on her when she got sick to die. I +think they had pretty fair treatment there. My mother was to be a house +girl and cook. I think grandma was a cook and field woman both.</p> + +<p>"I heard them say the white folks took them to church to learn to pray, +then they didn't allow them to pray for freedom. But I don't think they +wanted freedom. After they was set free they died up so scand'lous. +Grandma said they had to work harder. My mother brought a good price +because she was real light color and sharp to learn. She had six +children and we was all darker than she was a whole lots. She and +grandma was both good on giving advice. Seem like they could see how +things would turn out every time.</p> + +<p>"I married a man with a roving nature. We come here. He left me, come +back for me to look after before he died. I married again. I left him. +He told me how I could do five washings a week and take care of us both. +I didn't aim to do it. I mighter got some washings but I didn't aim to +keep him.</p> + +<p>"I get a little commodities along to help out. I'm picking berries now +twenty-five cents a gallon for the first picking. Fifteen and twenty +cents is the regular prices.</p> + +<p>"I haven't got children and I don't know what they ought to do. I reckon +they do the best they can.</p> + +<p>"Times is hard on me. It takes me all the time to make a living."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmileySarah"></a> +<h3>Pine Bluff District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Martin & Barker<br> +Subject: Negro Customs<br> +<br> +This information given by: Sarah Smiley (Colored)<br> +Place of Residence: Humphrey, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> + +<p>I was born the 10th of May, 1860. My home was in Charleston, S.C. I was +not a slave, but my parents were.</p> + +<p>My mother was a seamstress and my father, Edward Barnewill, was butler +for their white folks.</p> + +<p>I looks the door at sundown, and me and God are all by ourselves, and I +am not afraid.</p> + +<p>I came to Sherrill when I was a schoolgirl, and married when I was 14. +Lived here after I was married. Taught school before I was married.</p> + +<p>Had seven children by my first husband. My three husbands were Ike +Williams, Eli Treadvan, and Calvin Smiley.</p> + +<p>When asked about her books standing on her shelves—namely Golden Gems, +arithmetic, and the Bible, also a blue back speller—said she just loved +her books.</p> + +<p>Young folks of today don't love like they did in the olden days. Now it +is hot love, minute love, free love.</p> + +<p>When my first child was born, I begged the midwife not to cut me open to +get the baby out. The midwife told me the same place it went in the same +place it will come out.</p> + +<p>When my breasts began to grow (adolescence) I didn't want those bumps on +me, and tied them down with wide rags.</p> + +<p>Cures—I uses gasoline and cedar, soak it and rub on affected places for +rheumatism.</p> + +<p>I believe that you must not let your left hand know what your right hand +is doing.</p> + +<p>Heaven is a place of rest. If we are faithful to God, you can ride death +home.</p> + +<p>Hell is below—also here on earth.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithAndrew"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Andrew Smith<br> + R.F.D., Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 73</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born after the surrender at Oxford, Mississippi. We belong to +Master Jim Smith. Mother cooked and father worked in the field. He was +on a average being good. They didn't trouble my mother as I recollect +hearing 'em say but they whooped them in the field. Pattyrollers chased +papa in sometimes. I heard him talk about it but I couldn't tell what he +said now. Mama had two before freedom, then she married and had three +children. He died. She married the second time and had two more +children. That made seben in all.</p> + +<p>"She said her first marriage was pronounced (announced). My mother said +their master refugeed them to Texas till the year of the surrender. They +didn't know nothing 'bout freedom till a while after they got back from +Texas. They stayed on that year and longer too not knowing 'bout +freedom. My rickerliction is short.</p> + +<p>"Frank Houston was a neighbor of our'n. He lived on my folks' joining +plantation close to Houston, Mississippi during slavery. During or +before the War come on he put his money in a barrel—hogshead. They said +it was gold and silver. I don't know. It might some been paper. He +rolled the barrel down to the river. It was the Tallahassee (?) River +eighteen miles northeast of Oxford, Mississippi. He hid his barrel of +money in the river. They hunted and hunted it and never could find it. +It might sunk in the mud and quick sand. Somebody might er hauled it out +and stole it. The whole neighborhood hope him hunt it. They never did +find it. I seen the old man and Jim Smith heaps of times.</p> + +<p>"I voted in Mississippi. I couldn't read. They had a big fight in the +country at Midway Church where we all voted. It was out a ways from +Oxford, Mississippi. I never voted in Arkansas. I pay poll tax. Never +'lowed to vote.</p> + +<p>"I never went to school a day in my life.</p> + +<p>"I come to Forrest City fifty-four years ago. Married here. Never had a +child. Now my wife dead. I farmed all my life. I bought a farm but they +never let me have it. I never got it all paid out. They took it.</p> + +<p>"I get Welfare help. I does some work. I'm nearly past hard work now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithCaroline1"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Carol N. Graham<br> +ADDRESS—Rear 456 West Main Street, El Dorado, Arkansas<br> +DATE—November 1, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slaves</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Circumstances of Interview</b></p> + +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Caroline Smith</b></big>, Route 1, El Dorado. +(Lives with Negroes by name of Green about 1 mile from Smith's Crossing)</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—November 1, 1938, Tuesday morning, +9:30-10:30</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—at the home of some Negroes named Green.</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant—Had previously talked with Caroline.</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—Mrs. Ethel +Depriest, 516 East Miles Street, El Dorado.</p> + +<p>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.—a typical Negro farm +house.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—Camden, Arkansas? No date.</p> + +<p>3. Family—one child.</p> + +<p>4. Places lived in, with dates—Camden and El Dorado. No dates.</p> + +<p>5. Education, with dates—</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—None</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—This slave old enough to remember +Civil War.</p> + +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> + +<p>"I first remembers living on the plantation of Mr. Jake Dumas near El +Dorado Landing. You know it's Calion now. We lived up towards Camden and +it was there that my ma and pa was married and buried. I was a big girl +durin' the war. My job was to card and spin. And I use to carry the +children to school. When I would get to the school I would put the +children off, git straddle and ride that horse home. When I would get +there old mos would say Ca'line did you run him? I'd say naw sir. Then +he'd say, 'Oh, Carryline put the horse in the lot and come out here. I'd +say, 'Master I didn't run that horse' but didn't do no good. He sure +would whip me. I'd get down and roll. I would stomp and he would do the +same. I wondered how he could tell I'd run that horse. But course he +could cause that horse had the thumps (heart beating rapidly).</p> + +<p>"I remember seeing the soldiers come through during the war. They come +by droves stealing horses, setting the cotton on fire and taking sumpin +to eat, too.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I does still member the songs we sung durin' the war but I've got +the asthmy and ain't got much wind fur singin'.</p> + +<pre> +"You want to know the reason, +You want to know the reason, +You want to know the reason, I'll tell you why, +We'll whip them Yankees, whole hog or die." + +"Hooray, Hooray, Hooray for the Southern Girl. +Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear. +My homespun dress is plain I know, +I glory in its name; +Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear." +</pre> + +<p>"I've got the asthmy honey and jest caint sing no more.</p> + +<p>"You asked 'bout my husband and chillun. I been married fo' times. My +first man's name was Dick Hagler, the next Frank Bibby, the next Henry +Harris and the last one was Tom Smith. That's where I get my name +Ca'line Smith. I never did have but one daughter but she had sixteen +chillun. She's daid now and mah granchillun is scattered.</p> + +<p>"I got the asthmy an jes don' feel like talkin' no more. Long time ago +when I was sick master always had a doctor to me now I have to hire one. +And they always fed me good and clothed me but after I was free I would +go round and work around to git a little sumpin to eat."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithCaroline2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Caroline Smith, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Ca'line Smith's my name and dey calls me 'Aunt Ca'line.' I was born +about de year 1855 as I was about dis high (measuring) when de War broke +out. I remembers de boys marching away in their grey uniforms just as +plain. We chillen would watch dem as dey went away; we could see em as +we peeped through de winders and de cracks in de walls.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Mississippi close to Columbus on de plantation of my +master, John Duncan. And he was a purty strict old master, sure, but +sometimes he was kind to us. When we was set free he let us all go +wherever we wanted to, but didn't pay us nothin'.</p> + +<p>"All de slaves that I remembers stayed on around in different parts of +Mississippi after de War and engaged in farmin', and workin' on roads +and streets, and other public work. About forty years ago I come to Pope +County, Arkansas wid my parents and has lived here ever' since.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember nothin' about de Klu Klux Klan or if our folks was +ever bothered wid em.</p> + +<p>"Yes suh, I keeps workin' every day and likes to keep up my sewin'. +Plenty of it to do all de time—jest like I'm doin' today. My health is +purty good ceptin' I has a sort of misery in my side.</p> + +<p>"I draws a pension of $7.50 a month, but I dunno who sends it.</p> + +<p>"I belongs to de Adventist Church, and I sure believes in always tellin' +de trufe and nofin' but de trufe; we better tell de trufe here, for some +of dese days we all gwine where nofin' but de trufe will be accepted.</p> + +<p>"No suh, I ain't never took any interest in politics and ain't never +voted.</p> + +<p>"Dese young'uns today is simply too much for me; I can't understand em, +and I dunno which way dey headed. Some few of em seems to have sound +common sense, but—well, I just refuse to talk about em."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithEdmond"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella Anderson<br> +Person Interviewed: Edmond Smith<br> + D Avenue<br> + El Dorado, Ark.<br> +Age: ?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Arcadia, Louisiana a long, long time ago. Now my work +when I was a child was farmin'. I did not stay a child long, I been +grown ever since I was fourteen. My father lived till I was eleven, and +I thought since I was the oldest boy I could take his place of bossin', +but my mother would take me down a button hole lower whenever I got too +high.</p> + +<p>"Before my papa died we had a good livin'. We lived with his mistress's +daughter, and we thought we lived in heaven. My papa made all of the +shoes and raised all of the cattle from which he got the hide. We raised +all the wool to make our wool clothes and made all of the clothes we +wore. And food—we did not know what it was to go to a store to buy. +Didn't have to do that. You see, people now living out of paper sacks. +Every time they get ready to cook it's go to the store. We old timers +lived out of our smokehouse.</p> + +<p>"In there we had dried beef, cured pork, sugar from syrup, sweet +potatoes, onions, Irish potatoes, plenty of dried fruit and canned +fruit, peanuts, hickory nuts, walnuts; eggs in the henhouse and chickens +on the yard, cows in the pen and milk and butter in the house.</p> + +<p>"My mama even made our plow lines. She had a spinning wheel and you know +how to spin?—you can make ropes for plow lines too. Just twist the +cotton and have it about six inches long and put it in the loom and let +it go around and around. You keep puttin' the twisted cotton in the loom +and step on the peddle and no sooner than done, that was worked in a +rope. Now, if you don't know what I am talking about it is useless for +me to tell you.</p> + +<p>"After papa died that left no one to work but mama and I tell you time +brought about a change. A house full of little children—we lived from +hand to mouth. Not enough corn to feed one mule. No syrup, no hogs, no +cows. Oh! we had a hard time. I remember hearing my mama many a night +ask God to help her through the struggle with her children. The more my +mama prayed the harder times got with her. Wasn't no churches around so +she had to sing and pray at home. The first Sunday School I remember +going to was in 1892. I went to school and got as high as fifth grade, +then I ran away from my mama.</p> + +<p>"Just becaise I let old bad man overpower me I got grown and mannish. +Couldn't nobody tell me a thing. I would steal, I would fight, I would +lie. I remember in 1896 I went to church—that was about the fourth time +I had been to church. The preacher began preachin' and I went outdoors +and cut the harness off of his mule and broke one of his buggy wheels. I +went down in the woods and cut a cow just for meanness. I stole a gun, +and I would shoot anytime and anywhere, and nobody bothered me because +they was scared to. I stole chickens, turkeys and anything.</p> + +<p>"I got in trouble more times than a little, so the last time I got in +trouble some white people got me out and I worked for them to pay my +fine out. While working for them I made shoes. They taught me to do +carpenter work. They taught me to paint; to paper; to cook; work in the +field and do most anything. I came to my senses while working with those +people and they made a man out of me. When I left there I was a first +class carpenter. Those white people was the cause of me getting +independent. I didn't get no book sense, but if you get with some good +white people, that will be worth more than an education."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithEmmaHulett"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Emma Hulett Smith; Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Age: 66</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was the first colored baby born here or very near here. There was +only three houses in this town (Hazen). I think they muster been log +houses.</p> + +<p>"My folks belong to Dr. Hazen. He brought families from Tennessee. When +the war broke out he took em to Texas. Then he brought em back here. +When they was freed I heard my mother say they worked on for him and his +boys (Alex and Jim Hazen) and they paid them. He was good to them. They +had er plenty always. After the war they lived in good log houses and he +give em land and lumber for the church. Same church we got cept a storm +tore it down and this one built in place of it. He let em have a school. +Same place it stands now. My mother (Mandy Hulett) got a Union pension +till she died. She cooked at the first hotel in Hazen for John Lane. She +washed and ironed till she died. We girls helped and we wash and iron +all we can get now. None of us not on relief (Fannie nor Emma). I can't +wash no more. My hands and arms swell up with rheumatism. I still iron +all I can get.</p> + +<p>"The present conditions seems awful unsettled; wages low, prices high +and work scarce at times. Men can get work in the hay two months and +bout two months work in the rice or pickin cotton, either one. Then the +work has played clean out till hay time next year.</p> + +<p>"How do they live? Some of their <u>wifes</u> cooks for white people and +they eat all they make up soon as they get paid. Only way they live."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithErvinE"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ervin E. Smith<br> + 811 Ringo Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I have been in this state for forty-nine years. I will be here fifty +years on the fifteenth of December.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Ebenezer Township, York County, South Carolina, on the +twenty-ninth day of April, in 1854. That makes me eighty-four years old +on Friday. I was born on Good Friday—on Good Friday at six o'clock in +the morning.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you what I was instructed all of my life. My father, W.D. +Smith, and my mother, Haria, told me these things. My mother carried a +nickname, Salina, all her life, but her real name was Haria.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how they happened to keep such good records. We had a +little advantage over the other people of that day. My father never got +any school education, but his brothers instructed him—his +half-brothers. They were white. They was good, too. I mean them brothers +thought just as much of me as they did of anybody else. So my father got +pretty good training. He got it from his brothers and that's how he +learned to keep such good records.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Relatives</b></p> + +<p>"I am told my mother cooked for one family for forty-two years. Her +maiden name was Haria Harris. She was three-fourths white. She come from +the Indian tribe—old Catawba Indians. Her own daddy was a white man, +but her Grand daddy on her mother's side was an Indian.</p> + +<p>"I am told that the old fellow bought my mother when she was fifteen +years old. Finally he got hold of both my father and my mother. Both of +them put together didn't have half colored blood. He must have loved +them a lot to work so hard to get them together. My father was half +white, but his mother was a mulatto woman (Interpreter's comment—This +should make him a quadroon)[TR: sentence lined out.]; and my mother's +great-grandmother was a colored woman.</p> + +<p>"I never knew much about race troubles. The best friend I ever had was +an old white grandmother. I was carefully shielded from all unpleasant +things.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Fort Sumter</b></p> + +<p>"I was looking at the men when they were getting ready to get on the +train to go to Fort Sumter. Mr. John White, Captain John White, I knew +him personally. He was one of our neighbors. That was in Ebenezer that +he was one of our neighbors. The soldiers going to capture Fort Sumter +caught the Columbia and Augusta train going to Charleston. Looked like +to me there was ten thousand of them. John White was the captain and +Beauregard[HW: here Gustave Toutant Beauregard.] was the general.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see the fighting because it was too far away. It was about +eighty miles from us where they got on the train to Fort Sumter. They +got on the train at Rock Hill. Rock Hill was a city—small city—real +close to Ebenezer. We lived near Rock Hill. They was adjoining towns.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers and Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"The only patrollers I knew of was some that come on the place once and +got hurt. My mother had a brother Hobb and the patroller tried to whip +him. Hobb knocked all his front teeth out with a stick. Ches[TR:?] Wood +was the name of the patroller. It was like it is now. There were certain +white people who didn't allow any of their niggers to be whipped. I +never seen a patroller on my place. I have heard of them in other +places, but the only one to come on our place was the one Uncle Hobb +beat up. He had to take it, because you couldn't put anything over on +Harris' plantation. My people was rich people. They didn't allow anybody +to come on their places and interfere with then—their niggers.</p> + +<p>"I have heard my mother say that no white man ever struck her in her +life. I have had uncles that were struck. Two of them, and both of them +killed the men that struck them. Uncle Saul killed Edmund Smith and +Uncle George killed Ed McGehee. Uncle George's full white sister (his +half-sister) sent him away and saved him. They electrocuted Uncle +Saul—they executed him.</p> + +<p>"White men struck them and they wouldn't take it. They didn't do nothin' +at all to Hobb Baron. He got to his boss and the white folks was 'fraid +to come there after him. All of this was in slavery. My people ain't +never had no trouble with anybody since freedom; white people would get +mad with my uncles and try to do something to them, and they wouldn't +take it.</p> + +<p>"There were three races in the neighborhood where I was raised—niggers, +Indians, and white folks. They never sent the Indians out until 1876 +when I was a grown man. They sent them over there to Utah when it became +a state. I had a lot of Indian friends that went along at that time.</p> + +<p>"Bad blood was mixed up there and you couldn't do nothing to anybody and +get away with it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>First Pair of Shoes</b></p> + +<p>"I can remember the first pair of shoes my uncle gave me. They had a +little brass on the top of the toes to keep you from kicking them out +and skinning them up. That was way back yonder in the fifties.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Bible and Church in Slave Time</b></p> + +<p>"White people taught their niggers what Bible they wanted them to know.</p> + +<p>"'Who made you?'</p> + +<p>"'God.'</p> + +<p>"'Why did He make you?'</p> + +<p>"'For his own glory.'</p> + +<p>"'Why ought you to love God?'</p> + +<p>"'Because He made me and takes care of me.'</p> + +<p>"That was all the Bible they wanted you to learn. That, and just a few +more things. I could state them all.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Education</b></p> + +<p>"In 1866, everybody that was less than sixteen years old in South +Carolina had to go to school. The little fellows that had been slaves +had to go to school, and they got some education. You will hardly find +an old man from South Carolina around my age who can't read and write. +There was one hundred sixty pupils in my school. All boys. I never went +to a mixed school—a school where they had boys and girls both.</p> + +<p>"The first school I attended was in Ebenezer. I went to high school in +Macklenburg. Miss Sallie Good and Miss Mattie Train, Elias Hill, and +David G. Wallace—all of these were my teachers. They were all white +except Elias Hill. He was the only colored teacher in that section of +the country—at that time.</p> + +<p>"When I finished high school, I went to Biddle University. Biddle was a +boys' school. It was in Charlotte, North Carolina. They had a girls' +school in Concord, North Carolina. Biddle is still running, but it has +another name. Dr. Mattoon was president of Biddle then and Dr. Darling +was president of the girls' school.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Murders</b></p> + +<p>"The first murder ever I saw was Violet Harris killed Warren Fewell. It +come over a family quarrel some way. They fell out over something. She +was not related to him. It was done right at the fence at her gate. She +cut him with a butcher knife—stuck him just once right through the +heart. That is the first murder I ever saw. They were both colored. The +War was just winding up. It happened in Ebenezer. I don't recall that +they punished her.</p> + +<p>"I have seen a white man killed by a white man, and I have seen a +colored man killed by a colored man; but I have never seen a colored man +killed by a white man or a white man killed by a colored man. I have +seen them after they were killed, but I never seen the killing. I have +seen both races killing their own, but I have never seen them killing +across the races.</p> + +<p>"About fifty years ago, I saw a young man come in the church and kill +another one. Just come in and shot him. That is been fifty years +ago—back in 1881 in Ebenezer.</p> + +<p>"Rock Hill, South Carolina, from 1876 to a while later, bore the name +'Bloody Town.' They killed a man there every Saturday night in the +year—fifty-two times a year they killed a man. They had to send for the +Federal troops to bring them down. They didn't just kill colored people. +They killed anybody—about anything."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithFrances"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Frances Smith<br> + 2224 Havis Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I specs I was born in slavery times. I remember seein' the Yankees. +That was in Mississippi. I'm seventy-seven—that's my age.</p> + +<p>"Spencer Bailey was old master. Just remember the name was 'bout the +biggest thing I knowed about. I seen him all right but I didn't know +much about him 'cept his name.</p> + +<p>"Mother belonged to him, yes'm.</p> + +<p>"I tell you the truf, what little I used to remember I done forgot it. I +just didn't try to keep up with it. I wasn't concerned and just didn't +try to keep up with it.</p> + +<p>"I know our folks stayed there a while. First place we went to after the +War was Tennessee.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how long I been here—I been here a time though.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I went to school several terms.</p> + +<p>"I was married in Arkansas. My folks heard about Arkansas bein' such a +rich country, so they come to Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"I farmed a long time and then I done housework.</p> + +<p>"Deal a times I don't know what to think of this younger generation. I +sits down sometimes and tries to study 'em out, but I fails.</p> + +<p>"Well, what the old folks goin' to get out of this?"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithHenriettaEvelina"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Henrietta Evelina Smith<br> + 1714 Pine Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age:</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Louisiana in East Felicie Parish near Baton Rouge on the +twenty-eighth day of December. My mother's name was Delia White. Her +maiden name was Delia Early. My father's name was Henry White. My +mother's father was named Amos Early. My mother's mother's name was +Julia. My father's father was named Tom White and his mother was named +Susan.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother both belonged to the Eason's. I don't know how +they spelled it. Eason's daughter married Munday and my uncle bought +this white man's place years after freedom. That is not far from +Clinton—about four or five miles. It is three miles from Ethel, +Louisiana.</p> + +<p>"Amos, my grandfather, was the wagoneer on the old place. Father, he +used to drive the wagon too. He'd haul cotton to Baton Rouge and things +like that. He would run off and stay five or six months. I have heard +them talk about how he used to come back and bring hogs and one thing +and another that he had found out in the woods. He would run off because +the overseer would whip him. But he was such a good working man that +once or twice, the boss man turned off his overseer on account of him. +There wasn't nothing against his work. He just wouldn't take a blow. +Most of the times after he had been out a while the boss man would tell +the hands to tell Amos that if he would come on home they wouldn't whip +him for running off.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother's mother on my father's side was named Melissa. I think +that was her name. My father's mother was named Susan like I told you.</p> + +<p>She was part Indian—better work hand never was. But she wouldn't be +conquered neither. When they got ready to whip her, it would be half a +day before they could take her. When they did get her, they would whip +her so they would have to raise her in a sheet. The last time they +whipped her, it took her nearly a year to get over it. So the white man +just turned her loose and told her she was free. She went on off and we +never did know what became of her.</p> + +<p>"The Easons were farmers and they had a large plantation. I don't know +just how many slaves they owned.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother were fed like pigs. They had an old woman that did +the cooking. She was broke down from work. They would give the slaves +greens and the children pot-liquor. My parents were field hands. My +mother was too young to carry a row when she was freed, but she worked +on an older person's row. They worked from can till can't. You know what +I mean, from the time they could see till the time they couldn't. Reb +time was something like the penitentiary now. It never got too cold nor +too hot to work. And there wasn't any pay. My parents never were given +any chance to earn any money. I heard that my grandpa used to make a +little something. He was a wagoneer you know. He would carry a little +extra on his load and sell it. His old master never did find it out. +People knew he had stole it, but they would buy it just the same.</p> + +<p>"The old boss man came down in the quarters and told them they were free +when freedom came. Right after freedom they stayed there on the old +place for a year or more. My mother wasn't grown and she and my father +married after that. Afterwards they had kind of a fight to get away from +the old man. He was carrying them the same way he was going before the +War and they had a row (quarrel), and left him. I don't know just what +terms they worked on. I don't think they did themselves. They took just +what they could get and didn't know just how they was paid.</p> + +<p>"If a man made a good crop, they would run him away and make him leave +his crops behind.</p> + +<p>"My folks continued to farm all their lives. They had trouble with the +night riders. They had to vote like they were told. If you voted the +wrong way they would get behind you and run you off. There were some +folks who would take pay for voting and then vote different, and when +the night riders found it out, there would be trouble. I don't believe +in taking money for voting, and I don't believe in lying.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father didn't get any schooling. That was allowed after +slavery, but it wasn't allowed in slavery time. They learned a little +from other people. They would slip and learn to read.</p> + +<p>"My great-grandmother was considered pretty when she was young. She had +glossy black hair and was a little short. She was brownskin and had big +legs. Her master would take her out behind the field and do what he +wanted. When she got free, she gave both of her children away. She had +two children by him—a boy named Eli and a girl named Anna. She didn't +want them 'round her because they reminded her of him."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>The subject did not wish to state her age. It is probably around +sixty-five. Her mother was married shortly after freedom. And eight +years is probably a liberal allowance for the distance of her birth from +emancipation.</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person Interviewed: Henry Smith<br> + 702 Virginia, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79<br> +Occupation: Odd jobs</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes mam, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Tennessee on a +plantation near Jackson. I was eight years old when peace was declared. +All I member is when they beat the folks pit near to death.</p> + +<p>"My old master was Tom Smith. Mean? Cose he was mean. Old mistress was +sorta good to us but old master was the devil. Used to make the men hold +the women while they whipped em. Make em wear old brogan shoes with +buckles across the instep. Had the men and women out fore day plowin'. I +member they had my mother out many a day so dark they had to feel where +the traces was to hitch up the mules.</p> + +<p>"My mother worked in the field and I stayed in front and helped her up +when she got behind.</p> + +<p>"I member when the Yankees had thousands and thousands of bales of +cotton in the streets right here in Pine Bluff and take a knife and cut +it open and put a match to it, and burn peoples houses and the gin +houses and everything. Take the hosses and mules and run em off.</p> + +<p>"Old master and mistress carried us to Texas till peace was declared. I +member one morning the mail come and old master had a long paper and he +called all us colored folks up and told us we was free. He told us we +could go or stay. They all wanted to stay so he brought em all back here +to Arkansas. He give each one three acres of ground and all they could +make on it. That's the nicest thing he ever done, but he didn't do that +but one year. After that the land fell back to him. Then they worked on +the halves.</p> + +<p>"When the colored folks went to buy stock and rent land from the whites, +it cost five and six dollars a acre. They sho could make some money that +way, too.</p> + +<p>"I was big enough to do right smart behind a plow. I could do a heap. We +got along pretty well.</p> + +<p>"I got married when I was bout eighteen and made a home for myself. Me +and my wife had twenty-two children. White folks helped us a lot. My +wife's dead and all my children dead 'cept four.</p> + +<p>"I been here in Pine Bluff twenty-two years. I been here a good +while—that ain't no joke. Used to make three dollars a day mowin' +grass. Bought this place with the money. Can't make that now. They won't +give you nothin' for your work.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes'm, I voted and wouldn't know what I was votin' till 'twas too +late.</p> + +<p>"Never went to school much. Learned to read a little bit. They kep' me +in the field. Yes ma'm, I've worked but I've never had a doctor to me in +my life.</p> + +<p>"Ain't much to this younger generation. The old race can get along a lot +better with the white folks than the young race can.</p> + +<p>"I'm the head deacon of the Morning Star Church. Read the Bible right +smart. I tell you one thing—I like all of it."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithJL"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: J.L. Smith<br> + 1215 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1862 in the month of September on the fifteenth. I was +born at a place they call Indian Bay on White River down here in +Arkansas. My mother was named Emmaline Smith and she was born in +Tennessee. I don't know really now what county or what part of the +state. My father's name was John Smith. He was born in North Carolina. I +don't know nothing about what my grandfather's name and grandmother's +names were. I never saw them. None of my folks are old aged as I am. My +father was sixty years old when he died and my mother was only younger +than that.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Experience of Father</b></p> + +<p>"I heard my father say that he helped get out juniper timber in North +Carolina. The white man me and my sister worked with after my father +died was the man my father worked with in the juniper swamp. His name +was Alfred Perry White. As long as he lived, we could do work for him. +We didn't live on his place but we worked for him by the day. He is dead +now—died way back yonder in the seventies. There was the Brooks and +Baxter trouble in 1874, and my father died in seventy-five. White lived +a little while longer.</p> + +<p>"My father was married twice before he married my mother. He had two +sets of children. I don't know how many of them there were. He had four +children by my mother. He had only four children as far as I can +remember.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how my father and my mother met up. They lived in the same +plantation and in the same house. They were owned by the same man when +freedom came. I don't know how they got together. I have often wondered +about that. One from Tennessee and the other from North Carolina, but +they got together. I guess that they must have been born in different +places and brought together through being bought and sold.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a Murrill. My father was a Cartwright. My father's +brother Lewis was a man who didn't take nothing much from anybody, and +he 'specially didn't like to take a whipping. When Lewis' master wanted +to whip him, he would call his mother—the master's mother—and have her +whip him, because he figured Uncle Lewis wouldn't hit a woman.</p> + +<p>"I have six children altogether. Two of them are dead. There are three +girls and one boy living. The oldest is fifty-seven; the next, fifty; +and the youngest, forty-eight. The youngest is in the hospital for +nervous and mental diseases. She has been there ever since 1927. The +oldest had an arm and four ribs broken in an auto accident last January +on the sixteenth of the month. She didn't get a penny to pay for her +trouble. I remember the man did give her fifteen cents once. The truck +struck her at the alley there and knocked her clean across the street. +She is fifty-seven years old and bones don't knit fast on people that +old. She ain't able to do no work yet. All of my daughters are out of +work. I don't know where the boy is. He is somewheres up North.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Houses</b></p> + +<p>"I have seen some old log houses that they said the slaves used to live +in. I was too young to notice before freedom. I have seen different +specimens of houses that they lived in. One log house had a plank house +builded on to the end of it. The log end was the one lived in during +slavery times and the plank end was built since. That gal there of mine +was born in the log end. There were round log houses and sawed log +houses. The sawed log houses was built out of logs that had been squared +after the tree had been cut down, and the round log houses was built out +of logs left just like they was when they was trees. There's been quite +an improvement in the houses since I was a kid.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Food</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard my father and mother talking among themselves and their +friends, but they never did tell me nothing about slave times. They +never did sit down and talk to me about it. When they'd sit down and +start talkin', it would always be, 'Now you children run on out and play +while we old folks sit here and talk.' But from time to time, I would be +sitting on the floor playing by myself and they would be talking 'mongst +themselves and I would hear them say this or that. But I never heered +them say what they et in slave times.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Work</b></p> + +<p>"My father worked in the juniper swamp in North Carolina, like I told +you. I think I heard my mother say she cooked. Most I ever heard them +say was when they would get with some one else and each would talk about +his master.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Cruelties</b></p> + +<p>"I heard my mother say that her mistress used to take a fork and stick +it in her head—jog it up and down against her head. I don't know how +hard she punched her. My mother was very gray—all her hair was gray and +she wasn't old enough for that. I reckon that was why.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"I don't remember how freedom came. They were refugeed—I call it +that—my father and mother were. My sister was born in Texas, and they +were back in Arkansas again when I was born. I was born and raised right +here in Arkansas. They were running from one place to the other to keep +the Yankees from freeing the slaves. I never even heard them say where +they were freed. I don't know whether it was here or in Texas.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After the War</b></p> + +<p>"I have no knowledge of what they did right after the War. The first +thing I remember was that they were picking cotton in Pine Bluff or near +there. It was a smoky log house I had to stay in while they were out in +the field and the smoke used to hurt my eyes awful.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux and Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"I don't remember nothing about the Ku Klux. I heard old folks say they +used to have passes to keep the pateroles from bothering them. I +remember that they said the pateroles would whip them if they would +catch them out without a pass. When I first heard of the Ku Klux Klan, I +thought that it was some kind of beast the folks was talking about. I +didn't hear nothing special they did.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Occupational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"When I got old enough, I worked a farm—picked cotton, hoed, plowed, +pulled corn—all such things. That is about all I ever did—farming. +Farming was always my regular occupation. I never did anything else—not +for no regular thing.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"I married in 1879. My father and mother married each other too after +freedom. I remember that. It was when the government was making all +those that had been slaves marry. I have been married just the one time. +My wife died in April 1927.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Present Condition</b></p> + +<p>"I am not able to do anything now. I don't even tote a chair across the +room, or spade up the ground for a garden, or hoe up the weeds in it. I +am ruptured and the doctor says it is the funniest rupture he ever seen. +He says that there's a rupture and fat hanging down in the rupture. They +have to keep me packed with ice all the time. The least little thing +brings it down. I can't hold myself nor nothing. Have to wear something +under my clothes.</p> + +<p>"I don't get a pension."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Smith is sensitive about his first name—doesn't like to give it—and +about his condition. He doesn't like to mention it or to have it +referred to.</p> + +<p>He has an excellent memory for some things and a rather poor one for +some others. He got angry when his granddaughter supplied data about his +wife which he apparently could not recall.</p> + +<p>His physical condition is deplorable and his circumstances extremely +straitened.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithJohnH"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: John H. Smith<br> + 2602 W. Twelfth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I reckon I was here, I member seein' the smoke from the guns look like +a cloud.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Missouri in 1856. I member <u>way</u> back. Yes'm. I'm +old—I'm <u>old</u>.</p> + +<p>"I member seein' the soldiers—Yankees—eight or ten in a squad and they +asked me did I want to ride with em? Old mistress say, 'That's my boy!' +I member way back when they used to put the folks upon a block and sell +em. I member one night we was in the cabin and the Ku Klux come up on +horses. And I member when they was hollerin' peace was declared.</p> + +<p>"Mama told me I was born in 1856. Mama had all our ages in that big +Bible.</p> + +<p>"We stayed in St. Louis six years then we went to Chrystal City. +Missouri and I went to the glass factory and went to work.</p> + +<p>"Did I vote? Me? Yes'm, I voted many a time—Republican. I'm still a +Republican—always will be I reckon. I haven't voted for a long time but +I think everybody ought to have the liberty to vote.</p> + +<p>"I like to live in the North better cause the white folks treats you +better. They treats me all right here cause I don't do nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I member my white folks was good to me.</p> + +<p>"I went to school after the war whar I was born. C.N. Douglas, the son +of Napoleon Douglas, was my teacher. First teacher we had was Miss Mary +Strotter. I know she couldn't learn us anything so they got C.N. +Douglas. He brought that paddle with the little holes and he learned us +something. I know my sister was next to me and she couldn't get her +spelling and I'd work my mouf so she could see. C.N. Douglas caught me +at it and he whipped me that day. I never worked my mouf again.</p> + +<p>"I was the best speller in the school. I won a gold pen and ink stand +and George Washington picture.</p> + +<p>"Before the war I member the overseer would say, 'If you don't have that +done tonight, I'll whip you tomorrow.' They had one man was pretty bad +and I know they give him a thimble and a barrel and told him he had to +fill up that barrel, but he couldn't do it you know and so they whipped +him.</p> + +<p>"Mama used to whip me. She called me the 'Devil's Egg Bag' for a long +time. I used to take a darning needle and punch the eyes out of guineas +or chickens just to see em run around. She broke me of that. I know now +she never whip me enough, but she made a man of me. I got a good name +now. Always been a good worker. Done my work good and that's what they +want to know. Yes ma'm, I'm <u>old</u>."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SnowMaggieCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Persons interviewed: Maggie Snow and Charlie Snow<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Ages: 69 and 75</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My parents' names was Mary and Henderson Kurkendall. They had seven +children. Mama died when I was three years old. Papa was a Yankee +soldier.</p> + +<p>"They belong to the same white folks, Moster Jake and Peggy Kurkendall. +They had a big farm.</p> + +<p>"My papa told me that one morning they woke up and looked out over the +field. The Yankees had pitched their camps far as you could see on +Moster Jake's farm. They come up to his house. Moster Jake had a big +house and a big family. The Yankees come up there and throwed out all +they had and told the slaves to take it. No, they didn't; they was +scared to take it and it belong to them. They didn't want it all wasted +like they was doing. Papa said they rode their horses up to the house. +They took all the soldiers on the place to the camp. They was scared not +to go.</p> + +<p>"Papa left mama at the old home place and Moster Jake let them work all +they could. Papa stayed in the war till after the battle at Vicksburg. +Then he come home. They stayed awhile at Moster Jake's and worked. He +got his knee hurt and his health ruined. He never was no count after he +got back home. Mama could pick six hundred pounds of cotton a day he +said. They worked from daybreak till pitch dark in them days.</p> + +<p>"Little Jake Kurkendall is living now Enoch or Harrison Station, +Mississippi. He is older than I am. He got a family. But he is all the +son old Moster Jake had that I know living now.</p> + +<p>"Papa said the Yankees made all the slaves fight they could run across. +Some kept hid in the woods. Seem like from way he told bout it they +wanted freedom but they didn't want to go to war.</p> + +<p>"When we heard bout Arkansas being so rich and a new country, we wanted +to come. Some white and some colored come. We come to Aubrey, Arkansas. +We got six living, five dead children. I been here fourteen years (at +Brinkley). I hired out to cook in Mississippi but I wash and iron and +work in the field till I bout wore out. My husband in a terrible +condition. He picked some cotton. He got rheumatism in his legs.</p> + +<p>"We own a little home bout a mile from town and a pig. I wish I could +get a cow. I ain't got the money to buy one. Jess can't get one no way. +We had a fine garden. Two of us get $10 and commodities. Times so far +this year been good. When it gets cold times may be hard. Times better +this year than last or it been for a long time.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I could vote. Guess my husband done my part of the +voting."</p> + +<p>"I am seventy-three years old. There was two boys and two girls of us. +My aunts and uncles raised me. My mother died when I was little and fore +that my papa went to the army and never come home. They said he got +killed or died—they didn't know. My parents belong to Berry Bruce. He +had a family I heard em say. He lived at Louisville, Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"I recollect the Ku Klux. I heard em talk a whole lot about em. One time +they rode round our house and through the hall of our house. Yes ma'am, +it scared us so bad it most paralyzed us all. They went on. We didn't +know what they wanted. We never did find out.</p> + +<p>"I don't vote. I never voted in my life. I don't recken I ever will. I +have been a hard worker all my life. I farmed. I loaded and unloaded on +a steamboat with my family farmin' in the country. The boat I run on +went from Memphis to New Orleans.</p> + +<p>"My family farmed at Batesville in the country out from there. For a +long time I made staves with the Sweeds. They was good workers. We would +make 1,000, then load the barge and send or take them to Vicksburg. I +got my board and $1 a day.</p> + +<p>"The present conditions for the cotton farmer has been better this year +than last. When it gets cold and no work, makes it hard on old men. I +got no job in view for the winter.</p> + +<p>"I would like to have a cow if I could raise the money to get one. I +been tryin' to figure out how to get us a cow to help out. I can't make +it.</p> + +<p>"I suffer all the time. I can't sit still, I can't sleep I suffer so wid +rheumatism. Nobody knows how I do suffer. My general health is fine.</p> + +<p>"This President has sure been merciful to the poor and aged. Surely he +will be greatly rewarded hereafter."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SolomonRobert"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Robert Solomon, Des Arc, Arkansas<br> +Age: 73</h3> +<br> + +<p>My father was African. He was born in Atlanta. My mother was a Cherokee +Indian. Her name was Alice Gamage. I was born in 1864. I don't know +where I was born—think it was in the Territory—my father stole my +mother one night. He couldn't understand them and he was afraid of her +people. He went back to Savannah after so long a time and they was in +Florida when I first seen any of her people. When I got up any size I +asked my father all about him and my mother marrying. He said he knowed +her 'bout two year 'fore they married. They sorter courted by signs—my +mother learned me her language and it was natural fur me to speak my +father's tongue. I talked for them. She was bout fifteen when she run +away. I don't know if a preacher ever did marry em or not. My father +said she was just so pretty he couldn't help lovin' her. He kept makin' +signs and she made signs. I liked my Gramma Gamage. She couldn't +understand much. We all went to the Indian Territory from Florida and +Georgia. That's how I come out here.</p> + +<p>I don't remember the Ku Klux. I remember hearing ma and gramma talk +'bout the way they tried to get way from 'em. My father was a farmer +till freedom. He farmed around here and at Pine Bluff. He died at West +Point. My mother and step-mother both died at Pine Bluff. They took my +mother to her nation in Oklahoma. She was sick a good while and they +took her to wait on her. Then come and took her after she died. There +show is a fambly. My father had twenty-two in his fambly. My mother had +five boys and three girls and me. My stepmother had fourteen more +children. That's some fambly aint it? All my brothers and sisters died +when I was little and they was little. My father's other children jess +somewhar down round Pine Bluff. I guess I'd know em but I aint seed none +of them in I don't know how long.</p> + +<p>The first work I ever done was sawmilling at Pine Bluff. Then I went +down in Louziana, still sawmilling—I followed dat trade five or six +years. Den I got to railroading. I was puttin down cross ties and layin' +steel. I got to be straw boss at dat. I worked at dat fifteen years. I +worked doing that in six different states. That was show fine livin'—we +carried our train right along to live in. I married and went to farming. +Then I come to work at this oil mill here (in Des Arc). The reason I +quit. I didn't quit till it went down and moved off. I aint had nothin' +much to do since. I been carryin' water and wood fur Mrs. Norfleet +twenty years and they cooks fur me now. My wife died 'bout a year ago. +She been dead a year last January. She was sick a long time 'fore she +died. Well the relief gives me a little to eat, some clothes and I gets +$5.00 a month and I takes it and buys my groceries and I takes it up to +Mrs. Norfleet's. They says come there and eat. They show is good to me +'cept I aint able to carry the wood up the steps much no more. It hurt +me when I worked at the oil mill. I helped them 'bout the house all the +time.</p> + +<p>What I do wid my money I made? I educated my girls. Yes maam I show is +got children. One my girls teaches school in St. Louis and de other at +Hot Springs. They both went to college at Pine Bluff. I sent em. No'm +dey don't help me. They is by my second wife and my first wife live with +my son, down close to Star City. Dey farm. It's down in Lincoln County. +They let me live in this house. It belongs to him. I went to the bank +fo' it closed and got my money whut I had left. I been livin' on it but +it give out.</p> + +<p>The conditions are all right. They kin make a right smart but everything +is so high it don't buy much. Some of 'em say they ain't goiner do the +hardest work, hot or cold and liftin' for no dollar a day. Don't nobody +work hard as I used to. There's goiner be another war and a lot of them +killed—'cause people ain't doin right. Some don't treat the others +right. No'm they never did. They used to threaten em and take 'em out in +cars and beat 'em up, just for disputin' their word or not paying 'em +and de lack. The white man has cheated a heap because we was ignorant +and black. They gamble on the cotton and take might' near all of it for +the cheap grub they let out to make de crop on. Conditions are better +but a heap of the young black and white too deblish lazy to work. Some +of dem get killed out goin' on at their meanness.</p> + +<p>I heard of uprisings since the war but I never was 'bout none of them.</p> + +<p>I votes the Republican ticket. The last I voted was for Hoover. Sure +they have tried to change my way of voting but I ain't goiner change. I +ain't heard nothin' 'bout no restrictions 'bout votin'. If a woman +wanter vote it's all right. My girs and my boy votes right along. They +are all Republicans.</p> + +<p>The most money I ever has at one time was $600.00. I did save it. I +spent it on my girls' clothes and education. They did go to college at +Pine Bluff but they went to the Catholic High School first down at Pine +Bluff. No'm they don't help me. They say it's all dey can do to get +along. They never have told me how much they make.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SpikesJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: James Spikes<br> + 2101 Bell Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 91</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Good morning. Yes'm I remember the Civil War. I was a soldier. I was +between sixteen and seventeen when I enlisted in the war.</p> + +<p>"'Why did you enlist?'</p> + +<p>"I didn't know no better. I thought I would be took care of. They told +us the war was sposed to set the darkies free. My old master didn't want +me to go—cose not. But they was very good to me. I regard them just the +same as myself.</p> + +<p>"I enlisted in the 55th regiment of colored soldiers. Then I went off +with the Yankees. I was with them when they had the battle at Corinth, +Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"I was with them when the Yankees taken Corinth and whupped. The rebels +tried to take it back and the Yankees whupped 'em again. The regiment I +was with whupped 'em away from several places and kept 'em runnin'.</p> + +<p>"When we was in Fort Pickens I 'member they had a poll parrot—some of +the officers had trained it to say 'Corporal of the guard, Jim Spikes, +post No. 1." Sometimes I would draw my gun like I was going to shoot and +the poll parrot would say, 'Jim, don't you shoot me!' They got plenty a +sense.</p> + +<p>"The war was funny and it wasn't funny. Well, it was funny for the side +that won when we had scrummishes (skirmish). I never was captured but I +hoped capture a lot.</p> + +<p>"I stayed in the war till I was mustered out in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. +I was a good big fellow then. Oh Lord yes, I knowed most anything.</p> + +<p>"After that I went to Memphis and then I come to Arkansas and went to +farming with some white fellows named French. The river overflowed and +we lost 'bout all the cotton.</p> + +<p>"The government gives me a pension now cause I was a soldier. Yes'm it +comes in right nice—it does that."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StanfordKittie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Kittie Stanford<br> + 309 Missouri Street; Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 104</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I used to be a slave. My mother belonged to Mrs. Lindsey. One +day when I was ten years old, my old mistress take me over to her +daughter and say 'I brought you a little nigger gal to rock de cradle.' +I'se one hundred and four years old now. Miss Etta done writ it down in +the book for me.</p> + +<p>"One time a lady from up North ask me did I ever get whipped. Honey, I +ain't goin' tell you no lie. The overseer whipped us. Old mistress used +to send me to her mother to keep the Judge from whippin' me. Old Judge +say 'Nigger need whippin' whether he do anything or not.'</p> + +<p>"Some of the hands run away. Old Henry run away and hide in the swamp +and say he goin' stay till he bones turn white. But he come back when he +get hongry and then he run away again.</p> + +<p>"When the war come some of the slaves steal the Judge's hosses and run +away to Pine Bluff and he didn't never find 'em. The Judge think the +Yankees goin' get everything he got so we all left Arkansas and went to +Texas. We in Texas when freedom come. We come back to Arkansas and I +stay with my white folks awhile but I didn't get no pay so I got a job +cookin' for a colored woman.</p> + +<p>"I been married fo' times. I left my las' husband. I didn't leave him +cause he beat me. I lef' him cause he want too many.</p> + +<p>"No'm I never seen no Ku Klux. I heard 'bout 'em but I never seen none +that I knows of. When I used to get a pass to go to 'nother plantation I +always come back fo' dark.</p> + +<p>"This younger generation is beyond my onderstanding. They is gettin' +weaker and wiser.</p> + +<p>"I been ready to die for the last thirty years. 'Mary (her granddaughter +with whom she lives), show the lady my shroud.' I keeps it wropped up in +blue cloth. They tells me at the store to do that to keep it from +turning yellow. 'Show her that las' quilt I made.' Yes'm I made this all +by myself. I threads my own needle, too, and cuts out the pieces. I has +worked hard all my life.</p> + +<p>"Now the Welfare gives me my check. My granddaughter good to me. I goes +to church on the first and third Sundays.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I glad you come to see me and God bless you. Goo' bye!"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StanhouseTom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Tom Stanhouse<br> + R.F.D.<br> + Brinkley, Ark.<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born close to Greenville, South Carolina. I lived down close to +Spartanburg. My mother was named Luvenia Stanhouse and Henry Stanhouse. +They had nine children. Grandma belong to Hopkins but married into the +Stanhouse family. Grandpa's name was Tom. They set him free. I guess +because he was old. He lived about mong his children.</p> + +<p>"When they was set free old man Adam Stanhouse was good to em. He +treated em nice but they never got nothing but their clothes. They moved +on another place and started working sharecropper.</p> + +<p>"Before freedom old man Adam Stanhouse would give my pa a pass or his +pocket knife to show to go to see my ma. She lived at Dr. Harrison's +farm five miles apart. They all knowed Adam Stanhouse's knife. I don't +know how they would know it. He never let his Negroes be whooped unless +he said so. Owners didn't 'low the Ku Klux whoop hands on their place.</p> + +<p>"Adam Stanhouse brought my pa from Virginia with him. Some of them men +thought might near much of his slaves as they did their children. Or I +heard em say they seem to. My pa married my ma when she was thirteen +years old. They had nine children.</p> + +<p>"I heard ma say Dr. Harrison practiced medicine. His wife was named Miss +Lizzie. They had two boys and three girls.</p> + +<p>"Ma was a house girl. Pa was a field hand. One time traders come round +and ma's owner wanted to sell her and his wife objected. She wasn't sold +that time. I don't know if she was sold or not.</p> + +<p>"I don't know no more about that war than I do about the German war +(World War). I was a little boy when it was all over. I left South +Carolina in 1888. Ma was a part Red Indian and pa was a half Black Creek +Indian. I had two children before I left South Carolina. I was married +back there. I paid my own way and come to Fargo. I was trying to better +my condition. In 1896 I come to Brinkley. Before that I lived at Dark +Corner eight years. In 1920 ma and pa come to me and died with me. I +paid $25.00 for my second class ticket to Fargo—in 1888.</p> + +<p>"Since 1864 to 1937 I farmed, sawmilled, threshed, run a grist mill, run +a cotton gin and worked about em. I farmed eight or nine years across +the bayou here.</p> + +<p>"I own a home. My wife is living. I get 'demodities', no money. I got +two girls living. One girl is in New Jersey and one in Michigan. They +make their living.</p> + +<p>"I think the world is going on worse than ever I seen it. Folks can't +live without money. They don't try to raise their living no more. I +ain't no prophet. The world going to nothing way I see it."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StarnesIsom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Isom Starnes, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Marshall County, Alabama near Guntersville. Father belong +to the Starnes. They bought him in Alabama. My parents' name was Jane +and Burrel Starnes. They had two children I knew of. When they was set +free they left and started renting. I don't remember much that happened +before freedom. I picked up chips and put them in a split basket I just +could chin. I'd fill all the baskets and they would haul them up to put +under the iron skillet. Other chaps was picking up chips too. They used +some kinds to smoke the meat. I could tote water on my head and a bucket +in each hand. They was small buckets. We had to come up a path up the +hill. I stumped my toe on the rocks till they would bleed; sometimes it +looked like the nail would come off. My mother was a good cook. I don't +know what she was doing in slavery.</p> + +<p>"I been farming all my life. Yes, I owned ninety-eight acres in Alabama. +I had a home on it. I lost it. We brought a suit for water damage. We +lost it, I reckon. They fixed a dam that ruined my place. I left and +went to the North—to Springfield, Ohio. I started public work and +worked three or four months in a piano factory. I liked farming the best +and come back to it. My boys hope me down hill. I got two boys. My girl +left me all I got now. She is dead. I got a home and twenty-five acres +of ground. She made the money washing, ironing and farming. I 'plied for +the old folks' pension but didn't get it and give it up. I made four +bales cotton, one hundred pounds seed cotton. My place is half mile from +town. I have to get somebody to do all the work.</p> + +<p>"My father did vote. He voted a Republican ticket. I have voted but I +don't vote now. I voted a few days ago for a little cotton this year. It +was the cotton control election. I voted a Republican ticket. I found +out Democrat times is about the best time for us in the South. I quit +voting because I'm too old to keep up with it. If a woman owns +anything—land or house—she ought to be allowed to vote.</p> + +<p>"The times is mighty hard. I need a little money now and I can't get it +nowhere. It looks like bad times for me. The young folks don't work hard +as I did. I kept study (steady) at farming. I liked it. My race is the +best fitted for farming and that is where we belong. I never been in +jail. I never been arrested in my whole life."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's comment</b></p> + +<p>I stopped this clean, feeble, old Negro—humble as could be—on the edge +of town. He had a basket of groceries taking to his old wife. It was a +small split basket. His taxes worried him. He couldn't get a holt on any +money, so I told him about the Farmers' Loan. He was so scared looking I +felt he didn't tell me all he knew. He looked tired. I gave it up and +jokingly asked him if he had ever been in jail. He said, "I never been +in jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." I laughed good and +thanked him. I told a young woman who had curiously been trying to catch +the conversation from her yard that I feared I frightened the old man +till he couldn't think to tell me all he knew. She said, "Maybe so but +he has a reputation of being good as gold and his word his bond."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SteelHezekiah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Ky (Hezekiah) Steel<br> + West Fifth Avenue (rear), Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85<br> +Occupation: Yard man</h3> +<br> +<p>"What is it you want to know? Well, I was born in North Carolina. I know +they brought me here from North Carolina in slavery times. I couldn't +keep no count of it, lady, 'cause I didn't know. I know I was big enough +to walk behind the wagon pickin' up corn. I know that. That was in +slavery times.</p> + +<p>"Mr. June Ingraham's father brought me here.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a long time ago. Mr. June and I was boys together. I was +born in the Ingraham family.</p> + +<p>"They carried me from here to Texas. I stayed there till I was grown and +married. Then I come back to Arkansas I got with Mr. June's son and I +been here since.</p> + +<p>"Never have gone to school a day. Can't read but I can spell a little.</p> + +<p>"I've done most all kinds of work—split rails, cut wood, farm work, and +railroad work on the section.</p> + +<p>"Ku Klux come out there where I was in Texas. Didn't bother me—they was +just around first one place, then another.</p> + +<p>"I voted once. I guess it was Republican. I don't remember now who I +voted for. I didn't take much interest in politics—only just what I'd +hear somebody say.</p> + +<p>"Yankees was camped near us in Texas to keep the wild Indians back. That +was after the War. Yes'm, sure was.</p> + +<p>"I know the very night old missis told us we was free. Called all us +slaves up there together. Told us we was just as free as she was. I +always will remember that.</p> + +<p>"I stayed there till we got through the crop. Then I went to Paris, +Texas and portered in a little hotel there. Then I went +wagonin'—haulin' stuff.</p> + +<p>"They used to whip me in slavery times when they got ready. Need it? +well, they said I did. Hurt my feelin's and hurt my hide too, but they +raised me to do whatever they said.</p> + +<p>"This younger generation ain't no good—they ain't raised up like I was. +Things is a whole lot different than they used to be. The folks ain't +prayin' to God like they used to. Ain't livin' right.</p> + +<p>"I had two brothers killed in time of the War. That's what the old +people told me after I come back from Texas.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I've had plenty to eat all my life—up until now; I ain't got so +much now.</p> + +<p>"I keep the rheumatism pretty much all the time but I ain't never been +down sick so I couldn't help myself.</p> + +<p>"I'm telling you just what I know and what I don't know I couldn't tell +you. Good-bye."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StenhouseMaggie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Maggie Stenhouse,<br> + (a mile down the railway track),<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Mama was owned by Master Barton. She lived on the line of North +Carolina and South Carolina. Her husband was sold away from her and two +children. She never seen him no more. Rangments was made with Master +Barton to let Master Liege Alexander have her for a cook. Then she went +to Old Pickens, South Carolina. Liege Alexander had a white wife and by +her he had two girls and a boy. He had a black cook and by her he had +two boys and a girl. One of these boys was my papa and I told you the +old man bought my mama from Master Barton for his colored son. My papa +never was sold you see cause he was the old white man's boy. After his +white wife died his two girls married and the boy left Old Pickens, and +they told his colored wife and her two boys and girl if they would stay +and take care of him as long as he lived they could have the property. +My papa went off five or six miles and built him a log house.</p> + +<p>"The old man—Master Liege Alexander—was blind when his wife died and +he had to be tended to like a child. He would knock his stick on the +wall and some of the small children would lead him about where he wanted +to go. His white children didn't like the way he had lived so they +didn't want to be bothered with him.</p> + +<p>"My parents' names was Cheney Barton and Jim Alexander. Papa was medium +dark and so was his own brother but their sister was as white as the +woman's two girls and boy.</p> + +<p>"After the railroads sprung up the town moved to New Pickens.</p> + +<p>"Master Liege Alexander had lots of slaves and land. I reckon the white +wife's children fell heir to the farm land.</p> + +<p>"My aunt and grandma cooked for him till he died. They kept him clean +and took care of him like as if his white wife was living. The colored +wife and her girl waited on the white wife and her children like queens. +That is what papa said.</p> + +<p>"Durin' slavery there was stockmen. They was weighed and tested. A man +would rent the stockman and put him in a room with some young women he +wanted to raise children from. Next morning when they come to let him +out the man ask him what he done and he was so glad to get out. Them +women nearly kill him. If he said nothin' they wouldn't have to pay for +him. Them women nearly kill him. Some of the slave owners rented these +stockmen. They didn't let them work in the field and they kept them fed +up good.</p> + +<p>"Fore the Civil War broke out mama said Master Barton hid a half bushel +solid gold and silver coins over the mountains. He had it close to the +spring awhile. Mama had to go by it to tote water to the house. She said +she never bothered it. He said he could trust her and she wouldn't tell +a lie. He took another sack of money over the mountains and the +silverware. His wife died during the war. A lot of people died from +hearing of the war—heart failure. I don't know what become of his +money. He lost it. He may forgot where he hid it. It was after his wife +died that he sold mama to Jim Alexander's papa.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees rode three years over the country in squads and colored +folks didn't know they was free. I have seen them in their old uniforms +riding around when I was a child. White folks started talking about +freedom fore the darkies and turning them loose with the clothes they +had on and what they could tote away. No land, no home, no place; they +roamed around.</p> + +<p>"When it was freedom the thing papa done was go to a place and start out +share croppin'. Folks had no horses or mules. They had to plough new +ground with oxen. I ploughed when I was a girl, ploughed oxen. If you +had horses or mules and the Yankees come along three or four years after +the war, they would swap horses, ride a piece, and if they had a chance +swap horses again. Stealing went on during and long after the war.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux was awful in South Carolina. The colored folks had no +church to go to. They gather around at folks' houses to have preaching +and prayers. One night we was having it at our house, only I was the +oldest and was in another room sound asleep on the bed. There was a +crowd at our house. The Ku Klux come, pulled off his robe and door face, +hung it up on a nail in the room, and said, 'Where's that Jim Jesus?' He +pulled him out the room. The crowd run off. Mama took the three little +children but forgot me and run off too. They beat papa till they thought +he was dead and throwed him in a fence corner. He was beat nearly to +death, just cut all to pieces. He crawled to my bed and woke me up and +back to the steps. I thought he was dead—bled to death—on the steps. +Mama come back to leave and found he was alive. She doctored him up and +he lived thirty years after that. We left that morning.</p> + +<p>"The old white woman that owned the place was rich—big rich. She been +complaining about the noise—singing and preaching. She called him +Praying Jim Jesus till he got to be called that around. He prayed in the +field. She said he disturbed her. Mama said one of the Ku Klux she +knowed been raised up there close to Master Barton's but papa said he +didn't know one of them that beat on him.</p> + +<p>"Papa never did vote. I don't vote. I think women should vote much as +men. They live under the same law.</p> + +<p>"I come to Arkansas about forty-five years ago. Papa brought us to a new +country, thought we could do better. I been farming, cooking, washing. I +can't do my own cooking and washing now. I got rheumatism in my joints, +feet, knees, and hands. We don't get no help of no kind.</p> + +<p>"My daughter is in Caldwell, New Jersey at work. She went there to get +work. She heard about it and went and haven't come home. I jes' got one +child."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StephensCharlotteE"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg<br> +Person interviewed: Mrs. Charlotte E. Stephens<br> + 1420 West 15th Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> +<p>I was born right here in Little Rock. My father was owned by a splendid +family—the Ashleys. The family of Noah Badgett owned my mother and the +children. Pardon me, madam, and I shall explain how that was. In many +cases the father of children born in slavery could not be definitely +determined. There was never a question about the mother. From this you +will understand that the children belonged to the master who owned the +mother. This was according to law.</p> + +<p>My father's family name was Andrews. How did it happen that it was not +Ashley?... Oh, my dear, you have been misinformed about all slaves +taking the name of the master who owned them when peace came.... No, +madam. My father was named William Wallace Andrews after his father, who +was an English gentleman. He had come to Missouri in early days and +owned slaves.... Yes, my grandfather was white. The Ashleys brought my +father to Arkansas Territory when they came. They always permitted him +to keep his family name. Many other masters did the same.</p> + +<p>From the standpoint of understanding between the white and colored +races, Little Rock has always been a good place to live. The better +class families did not speak of their retainers as slaves; they were +called servants. Both my parents were educated by their masters. Besides +being a teacher and minister my father was a carpenter and expert +cabinet worker.</p> + +<p>The first school for Negroes in Little Rock was opened in 1863 and was +taught by my father. I went to school to him. A few months later there +came from the north a company of missionary teachers and opened a school +which I attended until 1867. My father was a minister of the Methodist +Episcopal church for colored people on what is now Eighth and Broadway. +He also had a chapel on the property of Mr. Ashley. You probably know +that during slavery days the slaves belonged to and attended the same +church as their white folks. They sat in the back, or in a balcony built +for them. My father was considered the founder of Wesley Chapel, which +was Methodist Episcopal. From that time until this day I have been a +member of that church. Seventy-three years, I think it is. Before the +break came in the Methodist church, you know, it was all the same, north +and south. After the division on account of slavery the Methodist church +in the south had the word "south" attached. For a long time my father +did not realize that. In 1863 he and his church went back into the +original Methodist church.</p> + +<p>In 1867 the Society of Friends—we called them Quakers—came and erected +a large two-story schoolhouse at Sixth and State streets. It was called +Union school. When it was built it was said by the Quakers that it was +to be for the use of colored children forever, but within a year or two +the city bought the property and took charge of the school. As far as I +can now recall, white and colored children never did attend the same +school in Little Rock. There have always been separate schools for the +races. I am able to remember the names of the first teachers in the +Quaker school; J.H. Binford was the principal and his sister taught the +primary department. Other teachers were Miss Anna Wiles (or Ware), Miss +Louise Coffin, Miss Lizzie Garrison, and Sarah Henley.</p> + +<p>I was about 11 years old when peace came and was living with my mother +and the other children on the Badgett plantation about 7 miles east of +Little Rock. Mother did laundry and general house work. Being a small +child, all that was asked of me was to run errands and amuse the little +white children. Madam, if I could tell you the great difference between +slave owners it would help you in understanding conditions of today +among the colored people. Both my father and my mother had peculiar +privileges. The Ashley family were exceptional slave owners; they +permitted their servants to hire their time. There was class +distinction, perhaps to greater extent than among the white people. Yes, +madam, the slaves who lived in the family with master and mistress were +taught just about the same as their own children. At any rate, they +imitated them in all matters; to speak with a low voice, use good +English, the niceties of manners, good form and courtesy in receiving +and attending guests.</p> + +<p>I began teaching in Little Rock schools when I was 15 years old and am +still teaching. In all, it is 69 years, and my contract is still good. +My first experience as a teacher, (as I told you I was fifteen) was by +substituting for a teacher in that first Missionary school, in 1869. For +some reason, she did not return, and the School Board appointed me in +her place. After one year I was given leave of absence to attend Oberlin +College in Ohio. I spent three years there, but not in succession. When +my money would give out I would come home and the School Board would +provide work for me until I could earn enough to carry me through +another term. I finished at Oberlin in 1873. I extended my work through +courses at Normal schools and Teacher's Institutes. I have taken lecture +courses in many colleges, notably the University of California in 1922. +I have taught all grades from the first to the twelfth. My principal +work, for the last 35 years, however, has been high school Latin and +English and Science.</p> + +<p>At present I am serving as librarian at the Senior high school and +Junior College. I have twice served as principal of city schools in +Little Rock. First at Capitol Hill. The Charlotte E. Stephens school at +18th and Maple was named in my honor. I have a book I have kept for 68 +years regarding those first schools, and I'm told it is the only one in +existence. I also have the first monthly report card ever issued in +Little Rock. Mr. Hall (Superintendent of Little Rock City Schools) has +asked me to will it to the School Board.</p> + +<p>I could recall many interesting events of those early schools for the +colored race. Old, old slaves came, desiring to learn to read and spell. +They brought the only books they could find, many of which proved to be +almanacs, paper bound novels discarded by their mistress and ancient +dictionaries, about half of which might be missing.</p> + +<p>Yes, madam, I do remember that the emancipated slaves were led to +believe they would be given property and have just what their masters +had been accustomed to enjoy. I remember hearing my mother tell, in +later years, that she really had expected to live as her mistress had; +having some one to wait upon her, plenty of money to spend, ride in a +carriage with a coachman. But she always added that the emancipated ones +soon found out that freedom meant more work and harder than they had +ever done before.</p> + +<p>What did they work at? Pardon me please for so often reminding you of +conditions of that time. Few of the trades workers were white. Brick +makers and brick layers, stone masons, lathers, plasters,—all types of +builders were of the freed men. You must remember that slaves were the +only ones who did this work. Their masters had used their labor as their +means of income. Not all slaves were in the cotton fields, as some +suppose. The slave owners of towns and villages had their slaves learn +skilled trade occupations and made a great deal of money by their +earnings. The Yankee soldiers and the many Northern people who lived +here hired the freed men and paid them. Quite soon the colored people +were buying homes. Many were even hired by their former masters and paid +for the work they formerly did without pay under slavery.</p> + +<p>I remember Bill Read and Dave Lowe. They had been coachmen before +freedom. By combining their first savings, they bought a hack, as it was +called. It was more of a cab. For all those who did not have private +conveyances, this was the only way of getting about town. It was Little +Rock's first taxi-cab business, I should say. Bill and Dave made a +fortune; they had a monopoly of business for years and eventually had +enough cabs to take the entire population to big evening parties, +theater, and all places where crowds would gather.</p> + +<p>No, madam, I do not recall that we had any inconvenience from the Ku +Klux Klan. If they made trouble in Little Rock I do not now remember it. +I did hear that out in the country they drove people from their homes. +Yes, madam, I do remember, quite distinctly, the times when colored men +were voted into public offices. John C. Corbin was State Superintendent +of Public Instruction. Phillips county sent two colored men to the +legislature; they were W.H. Gray and H.H. White, both from Helena. J.E. +Bush of this city followed M.W. Gibbs as Police Judge. After +reconstruction when all colored people were eliminated from public life +all these people returned to their trade.</p> + +<p>I was 22 when I married. My husband was a teacher but knew the carpenter +trade. During the time that Negroes served in public office he served as +deputy sheriff and deputy constable. He was with me for 41 years before +his death; we raised a family of six children and gave each one a +college education.</p> + +<p>Now, you have asked my opinion of present conditions of the younger +generation. It seems to me they are living in an age of confusion; they +seem to be all at sea as to what they should get for themselves. I do +know this. In some respects the modern frankness is an improvement over +the old suppression and repression in the presence of their elders. At +the same time, I think the young people of today lack the proper +reverence and respect for age and the experience it brings as a guide +for them. During my long years of teaching I have had opportunity to +study this question. I am still making a study of the many phases of +modern life as it affects the young people. I do not like the trend of +amusements of today; I would like for our young people to become +interested in things more worth while; in a higher type of amusement. +Conditions of morality and a lack of regard for conventions is +deplorable. Smoking among the girls has increased the common use of +liquor between the sexes.</p> + +<p>Did you ask me about the voting restrictions for the colored race in +this State? I will tell you frankly that I think the primary law here is +unjust; most unjust. We are citizens in every other respect; the primary +voting privilege should be ours also. This restriction has been +explained as coming down from "the grandfather clause" inserted in early +legislation. I cannot give you the exact wording of the clause but the +substance was that no person whose ancestor—grandfather—was not +entitled to vote <u>before</u> 1863 should have the right to the ballot. +Of course it is readily seen that this clause was written purely for the +purpose of denying the vote to the colored people.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, madam, my talk has been too much along educational lines. You +asked me about my life since freedom came and how I have lived to the +present time. I have had the blessed privilege of being a teacher—of +doing the work I love best of all in the world to do. I have written the +story of my life work; it is all ready to be published. I have written +"The Story of Negro Schools in Little Rock" and "Memoirs of Little +Rock." Madam, I have written, I suppose, what would amount to volumes +for our church papers and local Negro newspaper. My daughter was, at one +time, editor of the Womens' Page. No, I'm indeed sorry that I have not +kept a scrapbook of such writings. In these latter years my friends +scold me for having destroyed all the papers as fast as they were read. +The most of the news in the articles, however, I have used in the +manuscripts of the books I hope to have published.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StevensWilliamJ"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: William J. Stevens, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: Up in 70's</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was born in Pleasant Hill, Alabama. My owners were Haley and Missouri +Stevens. They owned Grandma Mary. Pa was born on the place. Mother was +sold from the Combesses to Stevens. Mother's mother was a Turk Dark +Creek Indian. She was a free woman. Her name was Judy. I called her +Grandma Judy. She was old but not gray. She had long black hair as I +remember her. Mother was named Millie. Haley bought her for my pa. <u>My +pa's father was Haley Stevens' own son</u>. He was his coachman. Pa +never worked a great deal. Mother never cooked till after emancipation. +She was the house girl and nurse. Life moved along smoothly as much as I +ever heard till freedom come on. The Indians was independent folks. My +mother was like that. Haley Stevens took his family to Texas soon as +freedom come on. Mother went with them. They treated her so nicely. Pa +wouldn't follow. He said she thought more of them than she did him. He +kept me with him. He married again. He was a barber at Selma, Alabama. +He died a barber at Anniston, Alabama. While my mother was in Texas she +went to see her mother in Hickory, Alabama. She was talking with a +tramp. He had helped my pa in the shop at Selma. Mother took the train +and come to pa's and my stepmother's house. I was fourteen years old +then and still wore a long shirt-like dress. They treated her the nicest +kind. She told them she was married to a man named Sims down in +Mississippi. She went back. I don't know where. The barber business was +a colored man's trade in the early days.</p> + +<p>"Soon after freedom I made two trips a day and carried my young +mistress' books to school. It was a mile for us to go 'round the road to +Pleasant Hill. She married C.C. Williams. I cooked for her. I cooked her +daughter's weddin' supper. She had two girls, Maude and Pearl. I worked +there fourteen years for my clothes and something to eat. Then I went to +myself. When I wasn't cooking I worked in Mr. C.C. Williams' sash and +blind factory. They was big rich folks. Mrs. Williams had a hundred rent +houses. She went about in her carriage and collected rent. That was at +Meridian, Mississippi. They learned me more than an education—to work. +She learned me to cook. I cooked all my life. I cooked here at the +Rusher Hotel till I got so old I was not able to do the work.</p> + +<p>"I do little odd jobs of work where I can find them. I 'plied for the +Old Age Pension but they give me commodities and that's all. I supports +my own self such as it be.</p> + +<p>"I find the young generation don't stick to jobs like I had to do. Seems +like they want an education to keep them out of work. Education does +some good and some more harm than good. Oh, times! Times is going fast. +Well with some I reckon. Some like me is done left. I mean I got slower. +Time getting faster. I'm done left outen the game. Time wait for no +man."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StewartMinnieJohnson"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Minnie Johnson Stewart<br> + 3210 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: Between 50 and 60?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My mother's name was Mahala McElroy. Her master's name was Wiley +McElroy. She was living in Howard County, Arkansas near Nashville. She +worked in the field, and sewed in the house for her mistress. One time +she said she never would forget about slavery was a time when she was +thirteen years old, and the overseer beat her.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a real bright woman with great long black hair. Her +master was her father. She told me that the overseer grabbed her by her +hair and wound it 'round his arm and then grabbed her by the roots of it +and jerked her down to the ground and beat her till the blood ran out of +her nose and mouth. She was 'fraid to holler.</p> + +<p>"Mother married when she was fourteen. I can't remember the name of her +husband. The preacher was an old man, a faith doctor, who read the +ceremony. His name was Lewis Hill.</p> + +<p>"I heard mother say they beat my brother-in-law (his name was Dave +Denver) till he was bloody as a hog. Then they washed him down in salt +and water. Then they beat him again because he hollered.</p> + +<p>"She told us how the slaves used to try to pray. They were so scared +that the overseer would see them that early in the morning while they +were going to their work in the field at daybreak that they would fall +down on one knee and pray. They were so 'fraid that the overseer would +catch them that they would be watching for him with one eye and looking +for God with the other. But the Lord understood.</p> + +<p>"My mother was seventy years old when she died. She has been dead thirty +years."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StiggersLiza"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Liza Stiggers, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70 plus</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Poplar Grove, Arkansas on Col. Bibbs' place. Mama was +sold twice. Once she was sold in Georgia, once in Alabama, and brought +to Tennessee, later to Arkansas. Master Ben Hode brought her to +Arkansas. She had ten children and I'm the only one living. Mama was a +dancing woman. She could dance any figure. They danced in the cabins and +out in the yards.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees come one day to our house and I crawled under the house. I +was scared to death. They called me out. I was scared not to obey and +scared to come on out. I come out. They didn't hurt me. Mr. Ben Hode hid +a small trunk of money away. He got it after the War. The slaves never +did know where it was hid. They said the hair was on the trunk he hid +his money in. It was made out of green hide for that purpose.</p> + +<p>"Mama had a slave husband. He was a field hand and all kind of a hand +when he was needed. Mama done the sewing for white and black on the +place. She was a maid. She could cook some in case they needed her. She +died first. Papa's foot got hurt some way and it et off. He was so old +they couldn't cure it. He was named Alfred Hode. Mama was Viney Hode. +She said they had good white folks. They lived on Ben Hode's place two +or three years after freedom.</p> + +<p>"I farmed, cooked, and ironed all my life. I don't know how to do +nothing else.</p> + +<p>"I live with my daughter. I got a son."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StithJamesHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: James Henry Stith<br> + 2223 W. Nineteenth Street<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born la Sparta in Hancock County, Georgia, in January 26, 1866. +My father was named William Henry Stith, and I was a little tot less +than two years old when my mother died. My father has called her name +often but I forget it. I forget the names of my father's father, too, +and of mother's people. That is too far back.</p> + +<p>"My father was born in 1818. He was born in Georgia. His master was +named W.W. Simpson. He had a master before Simpson. Simpson bought him +from somebody else. I never can remember the man's name.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Houses</b></p> + +<p>"The first houses I saw in Georgia were frame or brick houses. There +weren't any log houses 'round where I was brought up. Georgia wasn't a +log house state—leastwise, not the part I lived in. In another part +there were plenty of sawmills. That made lumber common. You could get +longleaf pine eighty to ninety feet long if you wanted it. Some little +towns didn't have no planing mills and you would have to send to Augusta +or to Atlanta for the planing work or else they would make planed lumber +by hand. I have worked for four and five weeks at a time dressing +lumber—flooring, ceiling, siding, moldings, and so on.</p> + +<p>"My father was still with Simpson when I remembered anything. At that +time the house we lived in was a weatherboarded house just like the ones +we live in now. It was a house that had been built since freedom. Old +man Simpson sent for my father and told him to build a house for himself +on the grounds. My father had been with Simpson for so long and had done +so much work for him during slave time that Simpson didn't want to do +without him. He supplied all the lumber and materials for my father. +During slave time, Simpson had hired my father out to the other planters +when he had nothing for him to do in the line of building on his own +plantation. He had had him to superintend his grist mill. All that was +in slavery time. My father was a highly skilled laborer. He could do a +lot of other things besides building. So when freedom came, he wanted my +father 'round him still. They both fished and hunted. He wanted my +father to go fishing with him and keep him company. My father was a +carpenter of the first class, you see, even in slave time. That was all +he done. He was brought up to be a carpenter and did nothing but that +all his time. My daddy was a mighty good mechanic.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Master</b></p> + +<p>"My daddy's master was a very good and kind one. My father was not under +any overseer. He worked directly under his master.</p> + +<p>"I remember one incident he told me. His master hired a new overseer who +hung around for a bit watching my father. Finally, my father asked him, +'Now, what are you able to do?' The overseer answered. 'Why, I can see +all over and whip all over, and that's as much as any damn man can do.'</p> + +<p>"Nobody was allowed to touch my father. He never had no trouble with the +pateroles either. Old man Simpson didn't allow that. He was a free +agent. When he wasn't working for Simpson, he was working for the next +big farmer, and then the next one, and then the next one, and old man +Simpson got wages for his work. Sometimes he worked a contract. Old man +Simpson couldn't afford to have him handicapped in his going and coming. +He could go whenever he wanted to go, and come back whenever he got +ready, with a pass or without one. His time was valuable.</p> + +<p>"The reason why so many slaves suffered as much as they did as a rule +was not because of the masters but because of the poor white trash +overseers. I know of several rich white women that had slaves that +wouldn't allow them to be mistreated. They would fire four and five +overseers to keep their slaves from being mistreated.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Mean Masters</b></p> + +<p>"But there were some mean masters. I have heard that right there in +Georgia there was one white planter—I think it was Brantley---who put +one of his slaves that had been unruly in a packing screw and ran it +down on him till he mashed him to death. The cotton screw was the thing +they pressed cotton bales in. They run it down by steam now, but then, +they used to run it down with two mules. They tell a lot of things like +that on Brantley. Of course, I couldn't personally know it, but I know +he was mighty mean and I know the way he died.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Bushwhacking the Ku Klux</b></p> + +<p>"He belonged to the paterole gang and they went out after the Negroes +one night after freedom. The Negroes bushwhacked them and killed four or +five of them. They give it out that the men that was killed had gone to +Texas. Brantley was one of the killed ones. The pateroles was awful bad +at that time. Ku Klux they called them after the War, but they was the +same people. I never heard of the Klan part till this thing come up that +they have now. They called them Ku Klux back when I was a boy. My +stepmother carried me over to Brantley's house the night he got killed. +So I know the Texas he went to. That was in '69 or '70. He lived about a +mile from us and when he got killed, she carried me over to see him just +like we would have gone to see any other neighbor.</p> + +<p>"The Negroes were naturally afraid of the Ku Klux but they finally got +to the place where they were determined to break it up. They didn't have +no ropes, but they would take grapevines and tie them across the road +about breast high when a man would be on horseback. The Ku Klux would +run against these vines and be knocked off their horses into the road +and then the bushwhackers would shoot them. When Ku Klux was killed in +this manner, it was never admitted; but it was said that they had gone +to Texas. There was several of them went to Texas one night.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"There weren't many amusements in slave times. They had dances with +fiddle music. There was mighty few darkies could get out to go to dances +because the pateroles was so bad after them. I don't know of any other +amusements the slaves had. They were playing baseball when I was born. +There were boys much older than I was already playing when I was old +enough to notice, so I think they must have known about it in slave +time. They didn't play much in that way because they didn't have time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slaves who Bought Themselves</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard tell of some Negroes that was thrifty and got money enough +from side work to buy themselves. They had to go North then because they +couldn't live in the South free. I don't remember their names just now.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Church</b></p> + +<p>"The slaves had church. Sometimes they had church at one another's +house. I don't think they ever built them a church house. But they could +go to the white folks' church if they wanted to.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"My daddy's master told my father he was free. He told him that in 1865. +He told him that he was free to do as he pleased, that he could come +when he pleased and go when he pleased. 'Course, he told him he wanted +him to stay around him—not to go off.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard my father speak of soldiers, but they were too busy 'round +Atlanta and up that way to git down where my father was. They don't seem +to have bothered his town. They never made my father do any labor in the +army neither. My father was mixed Indian, white, and Negro.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"Slaves had to get the consent of their masters to marry. Sometimes +masters would want them to go and would even buy the woman they wanted +to keep them contented on the plantation. Sometimes the masters wouldn't +do anything but let them visit. They would marry—what they called +marriage in those days—and the husband would have to git permission +from his master to go visit his wife and git permission from her master +to come there. He would go on Saturday night and get back in time for +his work on Monday morning. It was just like raising stock and mating +it.</p> + +<p>"I have been married fifty-one years. I have been married twice though. +My first wife died in 1900. I have been married to my second wife +thirty-four years last April. Those were real marriages.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"I can't say much along these lines. The chance to make a living looks +so dark I can't see much of a future. Things seem to be getting worse. +Nearly everybody I talk with, white or colored, seems to think the same. +It is like Senator Glass said. 'If Congress would close up and go home +at once, times would get better.' People don't know what kind of fool +law Congress is going to make and they are not going to spend much +money. I don't think Mr. Roosevelt's pump priming will do much good +because you must keep adding to it or it will go away.</p> + +<p>"I don't think much of the young people. These nineteenth or twentieth +century Negroes is something fierce I'm telling you.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"I am a carpenter. I wish I wasn't. The depression has made it so that +the Negroes get very little to do. What they have they give to their own +people. They don't have much for nobody. Even if the nigger gets +something, he gets very little out of it. But the main trouble is there +isn't anything to do.</p> + +<p>"I have been a carpenter for fifty-four years. I have been here +fifty-one years. I have never had no trouble earning a living till now. +I can't do it now. The biggest obstacle of the success of the Negro +carpenter is that Negroes don't have the money to build with. They must +get the money from the white man. The white man, on the other hand, if +he lets out the money for the building, has the say-so on who will do +it, and he naturally picks out another white man. That keeps the +majority of Negroes out of work as far as carpentry is concerned. It +does in a time like this. When times is better, the white man does not +need to be so tight, and he can divide up."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StoutCaroline"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella Anderson, colored<br> +Caroline Stout</h3> +<br> + +<p><b>EX-SLAVES</b></p> + +<p>I was born in Alabama in slavery time. I was sold from my mother after I +was five years old and never did see her again. Was sold to a family by +the name of Mr. Games. There were six of them in family and I was the +seventh. They were very nice to me until I was about 10 years of age. I +would attend to the little kids. They were all boys. Had to sleep on +straw beds and been cooking for myself ever since I was 8 years old. +When about ten they started putting hard work on me and had to pick +cotton and do the work around the house. Was a slave for about 15 years. +After I was freed I moved to Union County and been here ever since.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StreetFelix"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Felix Street<br> + 822 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>I was born in Dickson County, Tennessee, fifty miles north of Nashville, +in 1864. It was on December twenty-eighth. My father told me when he was +living how old I was. He told me all the way along, and I remember it.</p> + +<p>"Nannie, Jeff, Hardy, John Mack, and Felix (that's me) are my father's +children by his first wife. Lena, Martha, Esther are his children by his +second wife. He had five children by my mother, and four of them lived +to be grown, and one died in infancy. My mother was his first wife. Her +name was Mary Street. Her name before she married—hold a minute, lemme +see—seems like it was Mary—Mary—Street.</p> + +<p>"My father and my mother couldn't have lived on the same plantation +because she was a May and he was a Street. I don't know how they met.</p> + +<p>"My father's master's name was Jick Street. He owned, to my knowing, my +father, Bill Street; Henry Street, and Ed Street. He might have owned +more but I heard my father say he owned those.</p> + +<p>"My father said his white people weren't very wealthy. He and his +brother had to go and cut cordwood, both summer and winter. And they was +allowed so much work for a task. Their task was nine cords a week for +each man. That was equal to a cord and a half a day for each man each +day. My father would cut his wood like a man ought to cut it. But he +said my uncle wouldn't git at his task. He would drink whiskey all the +week. They'd get after him about bein' behind with his work, but he +would say, 'Never mind that; I won't be behind Monday morning.' On +Sunday morning at nine o'clock, he would get up and begin to cut on that +wood. And on Monday morning at nine o'clock, he would have nine cords +cut for his white folks and four or five for himself. It would all be +done before nine o'clock Monday morning.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Living Brother</b></p> + +<p>"I recently seen my brother Jeff Davis Street. I haven't seen him before +for sixty-one years. He blew in here from Texas with a man named +Professor Smuggers. He lives in Malakoff, Texas. It's been sixty-one +years since he was where I could see him, but he says he saw me +fifty-nine years ago. He came back home and I was 'sleep, he says, and +he didn't wake me up. He rambled around a little and stood and looked at +me awhile, he says. He was seventeen years old and I was twelve.</p> + +<p>"My brother had a lot of children. He had four girls with him. He had a +boy somewheres. He is older than I am.</p> + +<p>"I heard my father say that in time of war, they were taking up folks +that wouldn't join them and putting them in prison. They picked a white +fellow up and had him tied with a rope and carried him down to a creek +and were tying him up by his thumbs. He saw my father coming and said: +'There's a colored man I know.' My father said he knew him. They let him +go when my father said he knew him and that he didn't harbor +bushwhackers. Every time he saw my father after that he would say, +'Bill, you sure did save my life.'</p> + +<p>"My father and mother lived in a log cabin. They had homemade furniture. +They had a bunk up side the wall and a trundle bed. That was the cabin +they lived in in slavery time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"My father said once that when the men were gone, the soldiers came in +and asked the women to cook for them. They wouldn't do it; so the +soldiers made them bring them a chunk of fire. They throwed the fire on +the bed and when it got to burning good, the officer wouldn't let them +put it out. But he told them that they could get some of the boys to +help them carry out their things if the boys were willing to do it. It +was the officers who wanted the women to cook for them. It wasn't the +slaves they asked; it was the white folks.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Sold His Master</b></p> + +<p>"I heard my stepmother—I call her my mother—say some thing once. She +belonged to a white family named Bell. They had a lot of slaves. My +stepmother was the house girl; so she could get on to a lot of things +the others couldn't. She stayed in the house. That was in slavery times. +The speculators who were buying colored folks would put up at that +place. Looked like a town but it all belonged to one person. The name of +the place was Cloverdale, Tennessee. My stepmother said that a gang of +these folks put up at Cloverdale once and then went on to Nashville, +Tennessee. On the next day a nigger sold the speculator. He was educated +and a mulatto, and he sold his master in with a bunch of other niggers. +He was just fixin' to take the money, when his master got aware of it, +and come on up just in time. I don't know what happened to the nigger. +It was just an accident he got caught. My stepmother said it was true.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"My mother had a good master. At least, she said he was good. Slaves +from other plantations would run away and come to her master's place to +stay. They would stay a good while.</p> + +<p>"My father said his master was good to him too. My father's young master +has come to see us since the War. He got down low and used to come +'round. My father would give him turns of corn. You know when you used +to go to the mill, you would carry about two bushels of corn and call it +a milling or a turn. My father would let his young master shell a bushel +or two of corn and carry it to the mill. He got poor and sure 'nough you +see. We had moved away from them then, and he got in real hard luck. He +used to come and sit a half day at a time at our house. And father would +give him the corn for his family. We were living in Dickson County, +Tennessee then. Seems like we was on Frank Hudson's place. We hadn't +bought a place for ourselves then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"You know they used to ku klux the niggers. They went to the house after +the War of an old man named Hall. They demanded for him to let them in +but he wouldn't. They said that they would break open the door if he +didn't let them in. He didn't let them in, and they broke it down. When +they started in, his wife threw fire brands in amongst 'em and he +knicked one down with an ax. Them that wasn't hurt carried the wounded +man away and it was reported the next day that he was sick. They never +did bother the nigger no more and he never had no charges made against +him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Runaway Negroes—After Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"It was over forty years ago. Me and my wife lived at a big sawmill near +Elliott, Arkansas, just ten miles outside of Camden. White folks used to +come up there and catch niggers and carry them back to Louisiana with +them, claiming that they owed debts. One time two white men came to +Elliott looking for a nigger. They came through the Negro quarters and +all the men were off that day because it was a holiday. The nigger saw +them first and ran to the woods. They ran after him and caught him. They +came back through the quarters and tied him to one of the horses and +then went on to Louisiana—them ridin' and him walkin' tied up with his +arms behind him and roped to the horse like he was some kind of cattle +or something. The niggers followed them with guns a little distance, but +one nigger telephoned to El Dorado and the officers there were on the +lookout for them. At night, the officers in plain clothes went over and +chatted with them white men. When they saw the nigger, they asked what +it was they had there. They told the one that asked that it was a damn +nigger that owed money back in Louisiana and got smart and run away +without paying up. The officers drew their guns and put handcuffs on +them and carried them and the nigger away to Jail.</p> + +<p>"They put everybody in jail that night. But the next morning they +brought them to trial and fined the white men a hundred and fifty +dollars apiece and after the trial they turned the nigger loose. That +broke up the stealing of niggers. Before that they would come and take a +Negro whenever they wanted to.</p> + +<p>"Niggers were just beginning to wake up then, and know how to slip away +and run off. We had whole families there that had run off one by one. +The man would run away and leave his children, and as they got old +enough, they would follow him one by one.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After the War</b></p> + +<p>"Right after the War, my people farmed on shares. We had a place we +leased on the Hudson place that we stayed on. We leased it for five +years but we stayed there seven or maybe eleven years. When we left +there we bought a place of our own. On the Hudson place we cleared up +about thirty acres of land and 'tended it as long as we stayed there. We +put out a lot of fruit trees on it. Had lots of peaches, and plums, and +quinces—do you know what quinces are?—and danvils (these danvil plums +you know). They are kinda purple looking fruit made in the shape of a +prune. They are about two inches through—jus' about half as big as your +fist.</p> + +<p>"When we moved to our own place, we stayed in the same county. It was +just about three-fourths of a mile from the Hudson place—west of it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Moving to Arkansas</b></p> + +<p>"I came to Arkansas with the intention of going to school. But I jus' +messed myself up. Instead of goin' to school, I went and got married. I +was out here just one year before I got married. I married the first +time in 1887—February fourteenth, I think. My first wife taken sick +with rheumatism and she died in 1908. We were married thirty-one years. +I married again about 1913.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"When I was able to work, I worked in the railroad shops—boiler maker's +helper. Before that I farmed and did other things. Went from trackman to +machinist's helper and boilermaker's helper.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"Young folks Just need the right handlin'.</p> + +<p>"I don't mix in politics."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TabonMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Tabon, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 67</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Pa was sold twice to my knowing. He was sold to McCoy, then to +Alexander. He was Virginian. Then he was carried to Alabama and brought +to Holly Grove by the Mayos. I have wore four names, Alexander, Adams, +Morgan, and Tabon.</p> + +<p>"My mother's owners was Ellis from Alabama. She said she was sold from +the Scales to Ellis. Her father, sister, and two brothers was sold from +Ellis. She never seen them no more. They found Uncle Charles Ellis dead +in the field. They never knowed how it come.</p> + +<p>"My parents had hard times during slavery. Ma had a big scar on her +shoulder where the overseer struck her with a whoop. She was chopping +cotton. She either wasn't doing to suit him or wasn't getting along fast +enough to suit him.</p> + +<p>"Ma had so many little ones to raise she give me to Nancy Bennett. I +love her soul in her grave. I helped her to do all her work she taught +me. She'd leave me with her little boy and go to church and I'd make +cakes and corn bread. She brag on me. We'd have biscuits on Sunday +morning. They was a rarity.</p> + +<p>"One day she had company. She told me to bake some potatoes with the +jackets on. I washed the potatoes and wrapped them up in rags and boiled +them. It made her so mad she wet the towel and whooped me with it. I +unwrapped the potatoes and we had them that way for dinner. That was the +maddest she ever got at me. She learned me to cook and keep a nice house +and to sew good as anybody. I rather know how to work than be educated.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ash give me a lot of scraps from his garment factory. I made them +up in quilts. He give me enough to make three dresses. I needed dresses +so bad." (One dress has sixty-six pieces in it but it didn't look like +that. They sent it to Little Tock and St. Louis for the county fairs. +Her dresses looked fairly well.)</p> + +<p>"I was born at Holly Grove, Arkansas. Alexander was the name my pa went +by and that was my maiden name."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TannerLizaMoore"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Liza Moore Tanner, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in north Georgia. It was not fer from Rome. We belong to +Master Belton Moore and Miss Jane Moore. They had a big family, some +grandchildren old as their own. That was my job playing wid the +children. My parents' name Rob Moore and Pilfy Calley. She lived five +miles from Belton Moore's house. She was hired out over at Moore's the +way she and papa met up. I know now I was hired out too. I run after +them children a long time it seemed like to me. I loved them and they +cried after me. I get so tired I'd slip off and go up in the loft and +soon be asleep. I learned to climb a ladder that very way. It was nailed +up straight against the side of the wall. They'd ask me where I been. +They never did whoop me fer that. I tell 'em I been asleep. I drapped +off 'sleep. I was so tired. Papa helped with the young calves and the +feeding and in the field too. Mama was a fast hand in the field. They +called her a little guinea woman. She could outdo me when I was grown +and she was getting old. She washed fer the Calley's. All I remember +they was a old man and woman. Mama lived in the office at their house. +He let her ride a horse to Moore's to work. I rode home wid her many a +time. She rode a side saddle. I rode sideways too. She used a battling +stick long as she lived when she washed.</p> + +<p>"Papa died two years after the surrender in Atlanta, Georgia. The +Moore's moved there and he went along. He left mama at Master Calley's +and I was still kept at the old home place. Aunt Jilly kept me and my +two oldest sisters. Her name was Jilly Calley. I seen mama right often. +They fetched papa back to see us a few times and then he died. We all +went to Atlanta where he was buried. Mama lived to be purty nigh a +hundred years old. She had fourteen children. I had two sisters and +eight half-brothers and three half-sisters. Some died so young they +never was named. My stepfather was mean to her and beat her, caused some +of their deaths. She was a midwife in her later years. She made us a +living till I married. She was gone with Dr. Harrison a lot. He'd come +take her off and bring her home in the buggy. I married and immigrated +to Dell, Arkansas. We lived there a year and went to Memphis. Mama come +there and died at my house. She got blind. Had to lead her about. My +steppapa went off and never come back. He got drunk whenever he could +get to it. We hunted him and asked about him. I think he went off with +other women. We heard he did.</p> + +<p>"Freedom—I heard Miss Jane say when she was packing up to go to +Atlanta, 'I will get a nurse there. They will make her go to school.' I +thought she was talking about me. I wanted to go. I loved the children. +I got to go to school in the country a right smart. I can read and +write. Me and my two sisters all was in the same class. It seemed +strange then. We had a colored man teacher, Mr. Jacobin. It was easier +for me to learn than my sisters. They are both dead now.</p> + +<p>"I got three living children—one here and two in Memphis. After I got +my hip broke I live about with them so they can wait on me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about this new way of living. My daughter in Memphis +raising her little girl by a book. She don't learn her as much manners +as children used to know. She got it from the white lady she works for. +It tells how to do your child. Times done changed too much to suit my +way of knowing. 'The Old Time Religion' is the only good pattern fer +raising a family. Mighty little of that now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="TatumFannie"></a> +Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson<br> +Person interviewed: Fannie Tatum, Junction City, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1862</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born on Wilmington landing in 1862 on the Ouachita River and was +carried away when I was two years old. My mother ran away and left my +sister and me when we was three and five years old. I never saw her any +more till I was eight and after I was eight years old I never saw her +again in forty years. After my mama left me old Master Neal come here to +El Dorado and had me bound to him until I was twenty-one. I stayed there +till I was twenty-one. I slept by the jamb of the fireplace on a sack of +straw and covered with saddle blankets. That was in the winter when snow +was waist high. In summer I slept on naked floor and anywhere I laid +down was my bed just like a dog.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't allowed to eat at the table. I et on the edge of the porch +with the dogs with my fingers. I worked around the house and washed +until I was nine and then I started to plowing. At ten I started +splitting rails. My task was two hundred rails a day. If I didn't cut +them I got a beating. I did not know what a coat was. I wore two pieces, +a lowel[HW:?] underskirt and a lowel[HW:?] dress, bachelor brogans and +sacks and rags wrapped around my legs for stockings. That was in winter. +Summer I went barefooted and wore one piece. My sun hat was a rag tied +on my head.</p> + +<p>"I did not know anything about Sunday School nor church. The children +would try to teach me my ABC's but master would not let them. Never +visited any colored people. If I see a colored person coming I run from +them. They said they might steal me. After I got grown they let me go to +a colored party and they whipped me for going. Tried to make me tell +whether or not a boy come home with me but I did not tell it; one come +with me though. That was the first time I got out. Of course they sent +one of the boys along with me but he would not tell on me.</p> + +<p>"I never slept in a bed until I was twenty-two years old. Never was with +any colored people until I was grown. My play was with white children. +My father was a white man. He was my ma's old master and they was Neals. +They kept my hair cut off like a boy's all the time. I never wore a +stocking until I was twenty-two and my hair did not grow out and get +combed until I was twenty-two. My old master and mistress would have +been mean to me but I was so smart they did not get a chance. The only +thing I was treated like a dog.</p> + +<p>"I live in Junction City but am here visiting my daughter."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorAnthony"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Anthony Taylor<br> + 2424 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68, or 78?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Clark County adjoining Hot Spring County, between Malvern +and Arkadelphia. Clark County was named after old man General Clark. He +was worth four or five thousand acres of land.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Anthony McClellan. Why they called me Anthony +Taylor was my stepfather was named Taylor. My mother's name was Lettie +Sunnaville. My mother has been dead thirty or forty years and my father +died six months before I was born. He died a natural death. Sickness. He +was exposed and died of pneumonia.</p> + +<p>"Fayette Sunnaville was my grandfather on my mother's side. That was my +mother's father. Rachel Sunnaville was my mother's mother's name. I +don't know the names of my father's people. They was <u>sole</u>[HW:?] +in slavery. But it is been so far back; I don't remember nothing, and I +don't know whether they would or not if they was living.</p> + +<p>"We stayed on the old plantation for seven or eight years before we had +sense enough or knowed enough to get away from there and git something +for ourselves. That is how I come to raise such big potatoes. I been +raising them fifty years. These are hill potatoes. You have to know how +to raise potatoes to grow 'em this big. (He showed me some potatoes, +sweet, weighing about seven pounds—ed.)</p> + +<p>"I have heard my mother and my grandfather tell lots of stories about +slavery. I can't remember them.</p> + +<p>"Old man Bullocks had about eight or ten families that I knew about. +Those were the families that lived right near us in the quarters. I +didn't say eight or ten hands—I said eight or ten families. Them was +the ones that was right near us. We was awful small after freedom but +them what was with him stayed with him quite a while—stayed with the +old master. He would pay them so much after freedom come.</p> + +<p>"Lawd. I could tell you things about slavery. But I'm forgitful and I +can't do it all at once. He had the whole county from Arkadelphia clean +down to Princeton and Tulip—our old mars did. Lonoke was between +Princeton and Tulip. Princeton was the county-seat. He must have had a +large number of slaves. Those ten families I knew was just those close +'round us. Most of the farm was <u>fur</u> pine country land. There +would be thirty or forty acres over here of cultivation and then thirty +or forty acres over there of woods and so on. He had more land than +anybody else but it wasn't all under cultivation.</p> + +<p>"He's been dead now twenty or thirty years. I don't know that he was +mean to his slaves. If he had been, they wouldn't have gone on after +freedom. They would have moved out. You see, they didn't care for +nothing but a little something to eat and a fine dress and they would +have gone on to somebody else and got that.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't no law then. He was the law. I worked all day long for ten cents +a day. They would allowance you so many pounds of meat, so much meal, so +much molasses. I have worked all day for ten cents and then gone out at +night to get a few potatoes. I have pulled potatoes all day for a peck +of meal and I was happy at that. I never did know what the price of +cotton was.</p> + +<p>"Where we was, the Ku Klux never did bother anybody. All there was, +every time we went out we had to have a pass.</p> + +<p>"My grandfather and grandmother were both whipped sometimes. I don't +know the man that whipped them. I don't know whether it was the agent or +the owner or who, but they were whipped. Lots of times they had work to +do and didn't do it. Naturally they whipped them for it. That was what +they whipped my grandparents for. Sometimes too, they would go off and +wouldn't let the white folks know where they was going. Sometimes they +would neglect to feed the horses or to milk the cows—something like +that. That was the only reason I ever heard of for punishing them.</p> + +<p>"I heard that if the boss man wanted to be with women that they had, the +women would be scared not to be with him for fear he would whip them. +And when they started whipping them for that they kept on till they got +what they wanted. They would take them 'way off and have dealings with +them. That is where so much of that yellow and half-white comes from.</p> + +<p>"There was some one going through telling the people that they was free +and that they was their own boss. But yet and still, there's lots of +them never did leave the man they was with and lots of them left. There +was lots of white people that wouldn't let a nigger tell their niggers +that they was free, because they wanted to keep them blind to that for +years. Kept them for three or four years anyway. Them that Bullocks +liked was crazy about him. He would give them a show—so much a month +and their keeps. I don't remember exactly how much it was but it was +neighborhood price. He was a pretty good man. Of course, you never seen +a white man that wouldn't cheat a little.</p> + +<p>"He'd cheat you out of a little cotton. He would have the cotton carried +to the gin. He would take half the corn and give us five or six shoats. +After he got the cotton all picked and sold, the cotton it would all go +to him for what you owed him for furnishing you. You never saw how much +cotton was ginned, nor how much he got for it, nor how much it was worth +nor nothing. They would just tell you you wasn't due nothing. They did +that to hold you for another year. You got nothing to move on so you +stay there and take what he gives you.</p> + +<p>"Of all the crying you ever heard, one morning we'd got up and the pigs +and hogs in the lot that we had fattened to go on that winter, he was +catching them. After we'd done fattened them with the corn that was our +share, he took 'em and sold 'em. We didn't even know we owed him +anything. We thought the crops had done settled things. Nobody told us +nothin'. All we children cried. The old man and the old woman didn't say +nothing, because they was scared. My mother would get up and go down and +milk the cows and what she'd get for the milking would maybe be a bucket +of buttermilk.</p> + +<p>"We'd have a spoonful of black molasses and corn bread and buttermilk +for breakfast. We got flour bread once a week. We would work hard all +the week talkin' 'bout what good biscuits we'd have Sunday morning. Sack +of flour would last two or three months because we wouldn't cook flour +bread only once a week—Saturday night or Sunday morning.</p> + +<p>"We had no skillet at that time. We would rake the fireplace and push +the ashes back and then you would put the cake down on the hearth or on +a piece of paper or a leaf and then pull the ashes over the cake to cook +it. Just like you roast a sweet potato. Then when it got done, you would +rake the ashes back and wash the cake and you would eat it. Sometimes +you would strike a little grit or gravel in it and break your teeth. But +then I'm tellin' you the truth about it.</p> + +<p>"When our hogs was taken that time, we didn't have nothing to go on that +winter. They would compel us to stay. They would allowance us some meat +and make us split rails and clear up land for it. It was a cinch if he +didn't give it to you you couldn't get nothin'. Wasn't no way to get +nothing. Then when crop time rolled 'round again they would take it all +out of your crops. Make you split rails and wood to earn your meat and +then charge it up to your crop anyhow. But you couldn't do nothin' 'bout +it.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes a barrel of molasses would set up in the smokehouse and turn +to sugar. You goin' hungry and molasses wastin'. They was determined not +to give you too much of it.</p> + +<p>"I made my way by farming. After I got to be some size, I started at it. +I farmed all my life. While I could work, things was pretty good. Wisht +I was on a farm now. Even when I'm 'round here sick, I can git these +potatoes raised with a little help from the neighbors.</p> + +<p>"I don't belong to church. I oughter, but I don't. Then again, I figure +that a man can be just as good out of it as he can in it. I've got good +desires, but I never confessed to the public.</p> + +<p>"I have had three hundred dollars worth of stuff stolen from me. +Everything I produced is stolen from me because I have no way to protect +myself. What I raise if I don't get shet of it right away, the people +get shet of it for me. I had eighty head of chickens in the barn out +there runnin' 'round. When I got sick and was in the bed and couldn't +help myself, the chickens went. In the daytime, they would fix traps and +jerk a string and pull a board down on them and then go out in the weeds +and get them. I never reported nothin' to the police. I wasn't able to +report nothing. I was just batching, and now and then people would come +in and report them to me. They would wait till they saw somebody come in +and when they saw that I was talking and wouldn't notice them, they +would steal anything they wanted. The police came by here and ran them +once. But that didn't do no good.</p> + +<p>"Once somebody stole an automatic shotgun. They stole a colt one time. +They stole all my clothes and pawned them to a whiskey dealer. He got +sent to the pen for selling whiskey, but I didn't get my clothes. They +come in the yard and steal my potatoes, collards, turnips, ochre +(okra?), and so on. I lay there in the bed and see them, but I can't +stop them. All I can do is to holler, 'You better go on and let them +things alone.' Ever since the last war, I haven't been able to work. I +am bare-feeted and naked now on account of not bein' able to support +myself.</p> + +<p>"I just come out of the hospital. I been too sick even to work in my +garden. After I come home I taken a backset[TR: ?] but I am still +staying here. I am just here on the mercies of the people. I don't get +nothing but what the people give me. I don't get no moddities nor +nothin' from the Government.</p> + +<p>"I ain't never been able to get no help from the Government. Long time +ago, I went down to the place and asked for help and they told me that +since I was alone, I oughta be able to help myself. They gimme a ticket +for twenty meals and told me by the time I ate them up, they might have +something else they could do for me. I told them I couldn't go back and +forth to git the meals. I have the ticket now. I couldn't git to the +place to use it none, so I keep it for a keepsake. It is 'round here +somewheres or other. I was past the pension age. I ain't been able to do +no steady work since the war. I was too old for the war—the World War."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b> [HW: omit]</p> + +<p>The spelling of the name Sunnaville is phonetic. I don't recognize the +name and he couldn't spell it of course.</p> + +<p>When I called, he had potatoes that weighed at least seven pounds. They +were laid out on the porch for sale. He had a small patch in his yard +which he cultivated, and had gotten about ten bushels from it.</p> + +<p>His account of slavery times is so vivid that you would consider his age +nearer eighty than sixty-eight. A little questioning reveals that he has +no idea of his age although he readily gives it as sixty-eight—a +memorized figure.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorLula"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Lula Taylor, R.F.D., east of town,<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 71</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My mother was sold five times. She was sold when she was too little to +remember her mother. Her mother was Charity Linnerman. They favored. She +was dark and granny was light colored. My mother didn't love her mother +like I loved her.</p> + +<p>"Granny lived in a house behind the white church (?) in Helena. After +freedom we kept writing till we got in tetch with her. We finally got +granny with us on the Jefferies place at Clarendon.</p> + +<p>"A man (Negro) come by and conjured my mother. She was with Miss Betty +Reed (or Reid) up north of Lonoke. They was my mother's last owners. +That old man made out like she stole things when he stole them his own +black self. He'd make her hide out like she stole things. She had a +sweetheart and him and his wife. She had to live with them. They stole +her off from her last owner, Miss Betty Reed. They didn't like her +sweetheart. They was going to marry. He bought all her wedding clothes. +When she didn't marry him she let him have back all the weddin' clothes +and he buried his sister in them. This old man was a conjurer. He give +my mother a cup of some kind of herbs and made her drink it. He tole her +all her love would go to Henry Deal. He liked him. He was my papa. Her +love sure did leave her sweetheart and go to my papa. He bought her some +nice clothes. She married in the clothes he got her. She was so glad to +let go that old man and woman what conjured her 'way from her white +folks to wait on them.</p> + +<p>"Granny's head was all split open. I lived to see all that. White folks +said her husband done it but she said one of her old master's struck her +on the head with a shoe last.</p> + +<p>"My papa said he'd hit boards and stood on them all day one after +another working cold days.</p> + +<p>"Master Wade Deal at freedom give papa a pair of chickens, goats, sheep, +turkeys, a cow; and papa cleared ten acres of ground to pay for his +first mule. He bought the mule from Master Wade Deal.</p> + +<p>"Old Master Deal used to run us from behind him plowing. We tease him, +say what he'd say to the horse or mule. He'd lock us up in the +smokehouse. We'd eat dried beef and go to sleep. He was a good old man.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa Henry Pool went to war. Papa was sold from the Pools to the +Deals. Grandpa played with us. He'd put us all up on a horse we called +Old Bill. He said he got so used to sleeping on his blanket on the +ground in war times till he couldn't sleep on a bed. He couldn't get off +asleep.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa found a pitcher of gold money been buried in old Master Pool's +stable. He give it to them. They knowed it was out there.</p> + +<p>"Mother was with Miss Betty Reed in most of war times. Miss Betty hid +their jewelry and money. She spoke of the Yankees coming and kill pretty +chickens and drink up a churn of fresh milk turned ready for churning. +It be in the chimney corner to keep warm. They'd take fat horses and +turn their poor ones in the lot. They never could pass up a fat hog. +They cleaned out the corn crib.</p> + +<p>"All my kin folks was field hands. I ploughed all day long.</p> + +<p>"Papa said his ole mistress Deal was out under an apple tree peeling +apples to dry. A white crane flew over the tree and fluttered about over +her. Next day she died. Then the old man married a younger woman.</p> + +<p>"It is so about the pigeons at Pigeon Roost (Wattensaw, Arkansas). They +weighted trees down till they actually broke limbs and swayed plenty of +them. That was the richest land you ever seen in your life when it was +cleared off. Folks couldn't rest for killing pigeons and wasted them all +up. I was born at Pigeon Roost on Jim High's place. I seen a whole +washpot full of stewed pigeon. It was fine eating. It was a shame to +waste up all the pigeons and clear out the place."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorMillie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Millie Taylor<br> + 1418 Texas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I was born in slavery times in Calhoun County, Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"Bill Armstrong was my owner. He's been dead a long time.</p> + +<p>"My folks stayed on there a good while.</p> + +<p>"Pa said they was good to him but they wasn't good to my ma. I heered pa +say they beat her till she died. I don't remember a thing 'bout my ma.</p> + +<p>"I heered 'em talk 'bout the Ku Klux. They kep' that in my hearin' so +much that I kep' that in my remembrance.</p> + +<p>"I know when we stayed on the place pa said was old master's. Yes'm, I +sure 'members dat. I know we stayed there till pa married again.</p> + +<p>"Bill Armstrong's wife made our clothes. I know we stayed right in the +yard with some more colored folks.</p> + +<p>"Pa worked on the shares and rented too.</p> + +<p>"I was twenty-four when I come from Mississippi here. I was married then +and had three chillun. But they all dead now. I stays here with my +grandson. I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for him. I reckon I'd +just be knockin' around—no tellin'.</p> + +<p>"I got another grandson lives in Marvell. I went there to visit and I +got so I couldn't walk, so my grandson carried me to the doctor. And he +just looked at me—he had been knowin' me so long. I said, 'Don't you +know me?' And he said, 'If you'd take off your hat I think I'd know +you.' And he said, 'Well, for the Lawd, if it ain't Millie Taylor!'</p> + +<p>"I've always done farmin'. That's the way I was raised—farmin'. I just +looks at these folks in town and it seems funny to me to buy ever'thing +you need. Looks to me like they would rather raise it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lawd, don't talk about this young race. It looks to me like they is +more heathe'nish. The Bible say they would be weaker and wiser but they +is just too wise for their own good. I just looks at 'em and I don't +know what to think about this young race. They is a few respects you and +theirselves.</p> + +<p>"I seen things here in town I didn't think I'd ever see. Seems like the +people in the country act like they recognize you more.</p> + +<p>"I has a good remembrance. Seems like I gets to studyin' 'bout it and it +just comes to me like ABC. I know pa used to talk and tell us things and +if I didn't believe it, I didn't give him no cross talk. But nowadays if +chillun don't believe what you say, they goin' try to show you a point.</p> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, folks is livin' a fast life—white and colored.</p> + +<p>"Looks like the old folks has worked long enough for the white folks +till they ought to have enough to live on."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorSarah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Taylor, R.F.D., Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Releford County, Tennessee, ten miles from Murfreesboro. +My parents belonged to Dr. Jimmy Manson. He was off and gone from home +nearly all the time. He didn't have a Negro driver. Because he didn't +they called us all Manson's free niggers. Folks didn't like it because +we had so much freedom. One day a terrible thing happened broke up our +happy way of living on Dr. Manson's place.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa was part Indian. Dr. Jimmy didn't whoop. He visited and he'd +get a jug of whiskey, call his niggers and give them a little, make them +feel good and get them in a humor for working. Dr. Jimmy had a nigger +overseer. They was digging a ditch and making a turnpike from Dr. +Manson's place to Murfreesboro. They told grandpa to drive down in the +ditch with his load of rock and let the white folks drive up on the +dump. They was hauling and placing rock on the dump to make a turnpike. +In Tennessee it was a law if a man owned a nigger he had to whoop him or +have him whooped. If he didn't he had to sell him. They told grandpa if +he didn't do as they said they would whoop him, then they said they +would break his back. They took the fussing to Dr. Jimmy for him to +whoop grandpa. He sold him to nigger traders and they drove him to +Mississippi. Mother never seen him no more. Grandma died of grief. She +had nine girls and no boys. After freedom seven went North and mama, was +Jane, and Aunt Betty lived on in Tennessee, and I lived some in +Mississippi. That's the reason I hate Mississippi to this very day.</p> + +<p>"The day they fit on Stone River in Tennessee, brother Hood was born. He +was born during the battle. I guess they moved off of Dr. Jimmy's place +at freedom, for I was born on Jack Little's place.</p> + +<p>"The times is passing faster than I want it to and I'm doing very well. +I don't never meddle in young folks' business and I don't 'low them +meddling in mine. Folks is the ones making times so hard. Some making +times hard for all rest of us can't help ourselves. It is sin and +selfishness makes times so hard. Young folks no worse than some not so +very old. It ain't young folks making times hard. It's older ones so +greedy. They don't have no happiness and don't want to see old ones live +nor the young ones neither."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorWarren"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Warren Taylor<br> + 3200 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>My people are all from Richmond, Virginia. I was just four years old +when they come here. My father was in charge of all the machinery. He +ran the gin. Didn't do anything else. My mother was a house girl. The +kids learned her everything they learned in school. She knew everything. +My father died when I was young. My mother lived till she was eighty. +But the time she was fifty, I bought her a home and sat her down on +Pulaski Street in that home. And that is why I have so little trouble.</p> + +<p>"My ma belonged to Hoffman. He sold her to Wiley Adams. He carried her +to Mississippi. She stayed there for a short time and then came to +Arkansas. He settled in a little place called Tulip, Arkansas. Then +freedom came and we came to Little Rock and settled at what is now +Seventh and Ringo Streets; but then it was just a stage road leading to +Benton, Arkadelphia, and other places. Stages passed twice a day with +passengers and freight. No railroads at all then. The government kept +the roads up. They had the arsenal hall where the city park is and had a +regiment of soldiers there. The work on that road was kept up by the +soldiers. That was under Grant's administration. I never saw but three +presidents—three Democratic presidents—Cleveland, Wilson, and +Roosevelt.</p> + +<p>"My father's master was named Lee. He married my mother back in +Virginia. My daddy's people when he was freed was named Taylor. He died +when I was young and he never gave me any details about them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"The Adamses were good to my mother. And they help her even after +freedom. Charlie Adams and Mack Adams of Malvern, Arkansas. John was the +sheriff and ran a store. Mack was a drummer for the Penzl Grocery. When +my mother was ill, he used to bring her thirty dollars at a time. Every +two months she had to go down to Malvern when she was well and carry an +empty trunk and when she would come back it would be full. My mother was +wet-nurse to the Adamses and they thought the world and all of her.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"They had a good opinion of their house servants. That is how she and my +father came to belong to different families. One white man would say to +the other, 'I got a good boy. I'm going to let him come over to see your +girl.' He would be talking about a Negro man that worked around his +house and a Negro girl that worked for the other man. That would be all +right. So that's the way my father went to see my mother. He was married +in the way they always married in those days. You know how it was. There +was no marriage at all. They just went on out and got the woman and the +white man said, 'There she is. You are man and wife.'</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After the War</b></p> + +<p>"My father died before freedom. My mother lived with him until her folks +moved away from his folks. Then she was separated from him and left him +in Mississippi. She belonged to one white man and he to another, and +that could happen any time.</p> + +<p>"Right after freedom, she stayed with these white people, doing the +house work. She had the privilege of raising things for herself. She +made a garden, and raised vegetables and such like.</p> + +<p>"My brother who had run off during slavery time and who later became a +preacher in the North invited us to live in the city with him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"I wasn't fourteen years old when I was tending to flowers for the Cairo +and Fulton Railroad. That was a railroad which later became Missouri +Pacific. They beautified everything. There wasn't any bridge. They had a +boat to take you into the town of Argenta then, and when the trains came +through, the same boat would carry the cars across. An engine would be +on the other side to finish the journey with them.</p> + +<p>"There is one engineer living now who was active in that time, Charlie +Seymour, retired, of Little Rock. He used to run the first train over +the Baring Cross Bridge, and then he ran the first engine over the new +bridge here. He had already been retired when they finished the new +bridge, but they had him pull the first train over the new bridge +because he had pulled the first one over the old bridge. They wanted to +give him that honor.</p> + +<p>"My manager in that time was Superintendent A.E. Buchanan.</p> + +<p>"From this work, I was advanced to the office and stayed there twenty +years. I served under Commissioner Thomas Essex and later under +Commissioner J.A. Dean. This service included twenty years in various +departments.</p> + +<p>"After that I billed freight for the Missouri Pacific at the Baring +Cross Storerooms under Mr. H.S. Turner for eight months or more. Then I +was transferred, because the location was not good for my health, to De +Soto, Missouri, forty-five miles this side of St. Louis. Sedentary work +had proved bad for me and I needed more active work. I waited on the +master mechanic there. After that I came back to Little Rock and worked +for the Pacific Express Company under Mr. G.F. Johnson, superintendent. +After that, I worked for the Quapaw Club[HW?] during its heyday when +Johnie Boyle, Hollenberg, Acie Bragg, Will Mitchell, Mr. Cottman, +Captain Shaw, and oodles of others were members. Mr. Moorehead White was +secretary. After that I went to doing my own work.</p> + +<p>"Now I am past my prime and I do the best I can with what little help I +get from the government. I get eight dollars a month and commodities. +Mr. Roosevelt has got guts. Mighty few men would attempt to do what he +has done. He is the greatest humanitarian president the country has ever +had.</p> + +<p>"But I've got a pile of recommendations. I've got recommendations from</p> + +<pre> +Thomas Essex, Land Commissioner, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, +and Southern Railway + +W.S. Thomas, Geologist, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, Southern + +J.H. Harvey, General Foreman of Bridges and Building + +G.A.A. Deane, Land Commissioner succeeding Essex, St. Louis, +Iron Mountain, and Southern + +S.W. Moore, General Secretary, Railway Y.M.C.A. + +Arthur B. Washburn, Superintendent, Arkansas Deaf Mute Institute + +A.C. St. Clair, Manager of the College of Physicians and Surgeons + +(Note comment) [TR: No additional comment found.] +</pre> + +<p>You can read these for yourself, and you see what they say. They can't +get me work now, but it's great to know you did good work and be able to +prove it.</p> + +<p>"The same commodities they give now were given in 1870. They had what +they called the Freedman's Bureau. They used to have what they called +the LICK SKILLET on Spring Street from Fifth to Seventh. Leastwise, the +colored people called it that. Bush and a lots of other big niggers used +to go there and get free lodgings until they were able to get along +alone without help. The niggers they call BIG NIGGERS now stayed in +wagon yards when they first come here.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Former Morals</b></p> + +<p>"There was a time when a low-down person, colored or white, couldn't +stay in the community. They would give him a ticket and send him to +Memphis or somewhere else.</p> + +<p>"Reuben White built the First Baptist Church. In those days, people were +Christian. White baptized one hundred fifty people twice a month. You +didn't have to put a lock on your door then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Bachelor</b></p> + +<p>"I haven't been married; marriage holds a man back. A woman won't do as +she is told.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Successful Negroes in Little Rock</b></p> + +<p>"They had three Negro aldermen in this city: one of them was Green +Thompson; but the Negroes butchered him. He was murdered as he came in +from a festival. M.W. Gibbs, Land Office Man for the Government, was the +only nigger here who wasn't bothered by no one—by no colored person. +Dr. Smith was the leading colored dentist once, and the leading dentist +of the city in his day. Almost all the white people went to him. Colored +people had the barber shops. McNair had a barber shop on Main between +Second and Third. His boy killed him—no good reason. His boy went to +school with us; he was always stubborn and mean.</p> + +<p>"Henry Powell was jailer here once. Sam Wilkins, a man that weighed +about three hundred pounds, was the turnkey at the penitentiary. He +lived in one of the finest houses in the town at that time. Nigger bands +had all the music then. I have seen white organizations like the Odd +Fellows and Masons follow Negro bands. Nigger orchestras played here all +the big to-dos among white people. White people used to get nigger +dancers to come here to dance and show them so that they could learn the +late steps.</p> + +<p>"Colored caterers had the big jobs. Henry Miller was one of them. He's +going pretty strong still. You get some smart niggers 'round the Marion +Hotel right now. We used to have some smart cooks. But they did too much +peddling out of the back door. Dishonesty put them back. White people +have taken all that work now. The nigger ruined himself in this town. +They are paying white men now for what they know. They used to pay +niggers for what they knowed.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"If the government would give you a job today, niggers would be up to +take you out of it tomorrow. Niggers are dirty, and these 'round here +are ignorant.</p> + +<p>"The parents don't teach the children, and the children can't amount too +anything. If children are not taught to work, they will never have +nothing. A bunch of these young people don't mean to work. They just lay +'round waiting for the old people to die so they can get what little the +old folks accumulated and run through it. But a man never keeps what he +himself doesn't earn. He can't.</p> + +<p>"The children are raised now without manners. When I have to go past +Capitol Hill School, I have to get off the sidewalk. Ain't nothin' but +these graduates teachin' now, young graduates that don't know nothin' +but runnin' about. When I come along, the carpetbaggers were teaching +and they knew their business. Mrs. Stephens went to Fisk and finished +there. Mrs. Spight graduated from Union High School. We had all white +teachers at first. Miss Sarah Henley used to teach with old ex-slaves +where the Bethel A.M.E. Church is now. There wasn't no church there +then—just a little shanty. I was just five years old. My mother used to +take me there and leave me, but she taught me herself at home. She +taught me just like I see you teach your kids.</p> + +<p>"Boys don't do nothing but play now. They had to hustle then. They can't +do nothing now. They have this departmental system now. They didn't have +it then. The different temperaments ruin children. They used to review, +now they don't. They change text-books so fast the old ones can't be +sold."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Warren Taylor holds recommendations from a number of prominent people +referring to his excellent character, high morals, unusual intelligence, +wide information, industry, thrift, honesty, and trustworthiness. Some +of the names occur in the interview. The letters and documents proving +his long service and good record were brought out during the interview +and given to me to read.</p> + +<p>He has an unusual memory and penetrating insight into conditions.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TeagueSneed"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sneed Teague<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68<br> +Occupation: Works on railroad</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My owners was Miss Betsy and Master Teague. Miss Betsy had a sister +lived with them. Her name was Miss Polly. They was French folks from the +old country.</p> + +<p>"My ma had belong to the Cox before the Teagues owned her. The Teagues +had three families of servants.</p> + +<p>"I remember them—yes mam—they was very saving people. They made +everything that they used. The shettle, the carding machine, the +spinning wheel and all, they made em. They had a carding machine +different to anybodys in the country. It worked by a foot treadle. +Another thing wasn't like nobody elses in the whole country was the bed. +It had four tall post. The head board a little higher than the one at +the foot but instead of using slats across from the railings it was +mortised together and hemp ropes wove bout a inch apart. It was strong +and didn't seem to give (stretch) much.</p> + +<p>"They raised sheep and they wove and spun wool altogether. They didn't +fool with cotton. Never did, not even down to my time. That carding +machine I'm telling bout turned out rolls of wool. It was right pretty. +They made all kinds of wool things and sold them. The old man had three +or four boys. Mr. Jim Teague run a wood and blacksmith shop. He sold +plows, wagons, hoes. They made spoons, knives, and forks out of sheets +of some kind of metal. Everything they used they made it and they sold +mighty near every thing folks wanted. The servants stayed on after the +war. My ma stayed till she died. My family had a little dispute when I +was twelve years old and I left. Ma died and I never went back. I come +to Forrest City and got work. I been farmin' and working on the +railroad. I have done track work. I got 10 acres land and a house. I +don't need on the relief. If I need it I would want it. The reason I +ain't got a garden and cow is I work out and not there to see after it.</p> + +<p>"Some times I vote. You make enemies cause they all want you to vote for +them and I can't do that. I don't care nothin' bout votin'. I don't +enquire no more bout politics.</p> + +<p>"The fellow what raises things to sell is better off with prices high +but if he is working for money, times is hard for him. Cause the money +is hard to get and hard to keep now. The young folks morals ain't like +young folks used to have. Seemed like young folks too smart to be +trained in morals like they was when I was comin' up."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TeelMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Teel<br> + Holly Grove, Ark.<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Our Masters was Wade and Curls. Miss Fannie was Master Wade's wife. +They was kin somehow. I heard Ma say they wouldn't let their boys work. +We girls growd up together. They called Ma 'Cousin'.</p> + +<p>"Ma say she come from Marshal County Tennessee to Holly Springs +Mississippi. She never did see her pa. My papa's papa was <u>a white +man</u>. My pa was Lewis Brittman. He was a carriage driver. He made and +mended shoes. My Ma was a fine cook. She had nine children but jes three +living now. One of the girls—Miss Fannie's girls—married bout when I +did. We jes growd up lack that. I left the girls at Mt. Pleasant, +Mississippi. I stayed on their place a while. I wish I had money to go +back to my old home and see all 'em livin'. I never heard 'em say if +they give 'em somepin. Pa lernt us to do all kinds of work. He knowd how +to do nearly everything cause he was brought up by white folks. Measles +broke out, then small pox and the white folks put us in a room all +together at the white house so we could be seen after. We lay on the +same beds. My brother would whistle. I was real little but I member it +well as yesterday. Ma say stop whistlin' in that bed and Miss Fannie say +let him whistle I want to hear him cause I know he better. They say it +bad luck to sing in bed or look in the lookin'-glass (mirror) if you in +the bed. We all got over it.</p> + +<p>"Pa made us go clean. He made me comb and wrop my hair every night. I +had prutty hair then. I had tetter and it all come out. I has to wear +this old wig now. When I was young my eye-sight got bad, they said +measles settled in em and to help em Ma had these holes put in em (in +her ears). I been wearin' earbobs purt nigh all my life.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They never come nigh our house no time. +Pa died and Ma married a old man. They stayed in the same place a while. +When Pa died he had cattle and stock that why I don't know if he got +somepin at Freedom. He had plenty.</p> + +<p>"We lived at Holly Springs (Miss.) when they started the first colored +schools. There was three lady teachers. I think a man. One of the white +teachers boarded at my Ma's. On Saturday the other two eat there. I +recollect Ma cooking and fixing a big dinner Saturday. No white folks +let em stay with em or speak to em. They was sent from up north to teach +the darky chaps. I was one went to school. They wasn't nice like my +white folks then neither. They paid high board and white folks sent em +to Ma so she get the money. I was 14 years old when I married. I lived +wid my husband more an 50 years. We got long what I'ze tellin' you. This +young set ain't got no raisin' reason they cain't stand one nother. I +don't let em come in my yard. I cain't raise no children, I'm too old +and they ain't got no manners and the big ones got no sense. Jes wild. +They way they do. They live together a while and quit. Both them soon +livin' wid somebody else. That what churches fer, to marry in. Heap of +em ain't doin' it. No children don't come here tearin' up what I work +and have. I don't let em come in that gate, I have to work so hard in my +old days. I picked cotton. I can, by pickin' hard, make a dollar a day. +I cooked ten years fore I stopped, I cain't hold up at it. I washed and +ironed till the washing machines ruined that work fer all of us black +folks. Silk finery and washin' machines ruint the black folks.</p> + +<p>"Ma named Elsie Langston and Lewis Langston. They took that name somehow +after the old war (Civil War), I recken it was her old master's name.</p> + +<p>"After I was married and had children I was hard up. I went to a widow +woman had a farm but no men folks. She say, 'If you live here and leave +your little children in my yard and take my big boys and learn em to +work, I will cook. On Saturday you wash and iron.' She took me in that +way when my color wouldn't help me. I stayed there—between Memphis and +Holly Springs.</p> + +<p>"I live hard the way I live. I pick cotton when I can't go hardly. They +did give me a little commodity but I lose half day work if I go up there +and wait round. Don't know what they give me. I don't get a cent of the +penshun."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThermonWade"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Wade Thermon,<br> + R.F.D. (PWA Reservation), Des Arc, Arkansas<br> +Age: 67</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Boswell, Oklahoma. My mother and father was both slaves +some wha in the eastern states. Soon as freedom was declared they kept +going till I was born. They finally come back and farmed round Pine +Bluff. My folks last time I heard from them was at Garland City. There's +wha my mother died. I had three brothers and one sister, but one brother +died long time ago. Oklahoma was pore farmin'. The family could do +pretty good farmin' in Arkansas. I come here from Pine Bluff. I got a +wife, two girls and a little grandchild. When I first come to dis county +I done public work—piece work. I handled cotton and cross ties. I used +to help load and unload the boats and I worked helpin' build railroads. +Then I had to farm about a little fur a living. I worked on Victor Gates +place six years. Then I worked on the widow Thomas place till the +Government bought it. Then the last eighteen months I got work wid the +PWA on the rezer/va/tion. They turned me off now and I ain't got no +place to work.</p> + +<p>"I voted the Republican ticket the last time. I don't know nothing 'bout +stricted sufage. I voted in Oklahoma some and here some. No I sho don't +think the women needs to vote. They won't let us vote in the Primary. No +I wouldn't know who would suit in dem high offices. I reckon it is all +right. We is in you might say a foreign country. What I blames 'em fur +is not puttin' us in a country all to our selves and den let us run it +all to our selves. It is gettin' us all mixed up here every year worse +and worse.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nuthin' 'bout the Civil War. That was before I was born. I +heard my folks talk some 'bout it, been so long I forgot what they did +say. My folks owned a place in Oklahoma, at least I recken they did. I +never did own no home nor no land. Well, missus, cause I never could get +but berry little ahead ever and it takes all I makes to live on and I +ain't got nuthin' to go on now.</p> + +<p>"Times is changin' so much I don't know whut goin' to happen to the next +generation. Prices is mighty high now the reason you have to spend every +cent you makes fore you get paid off. Dats the reason I don't like the +PWA work I done. It cuts you off without a thing to go on. I likes farm +work whole heap the best."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasDicey"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Mrs. Dicey Thomas<br> + 2500 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Barbour County, Alabama. When I was born, the white folks +kept the children's age, not that of their parents. When the Yankees +came through our white folks' plantation, the white folks was hiding +away things.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Father</b></p> + +<p>"My father was named Ben See. See was my maiden name. Thomas comes from +my marriage.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Yankees</b></p> + +<p>"It was about twelve o'clock when the Yankees came through, because we +had just gone to bring the bowls. They used to serve us out of these +gourds and wooden spoons. Me and another little girl had gone to get +some bowls and spoons and when we got back the Yankees were swarming +over the place. They said, 'You are free. Go where you please.'</p> + +<p>"My mother had a little baby. The old women would tend to this baby and +we would sit and rock the cradle till mother would come. I know I wasn't +very old, because I didn't do anything but sit and rock the baby. I had +just gotten big enough to carry the bowls.</p> + +<p>"When the Yankees came through they stole Ben See's horse and brought +him out here in Arkansas. In those days, they used to brand horses.</p> + +<p>Some woman out here in Arkansas recognized the horse by his brand and +wrote to him about it. He came out and got the horse. We had gone by +that time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Visiting the Graves</b></p> + +<p>"Ben See used to take the little darkies to the cemetery and show them +where their master and missis was laying. He never would sell none of +his father's slaves.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>The Slave Block</b></p> + +<p>"He would buy other slaves and sell them though. He used to buy little +kids that couldn't walk. Maybe some big white man would come that would +want to buy a nigger. He used to have servants in the yard and he would +have the slaves he'd bought saved up. One of the yard servants would +catch a little nigger with his head all knotty and filled with twigs. He +would swinge the hair and the little nigger would yell, but he wouldn't +be hurt.</p> + +<p>"He had a block built up high just like a meat block out in the yard. He +would have the yard man bring the little niggers out and put them on +this block. I don't know nothing about their parents, who they were nor +where they were. All I know he would have this child there what he'd +done bought.</p> + +<p>"If there would be about five or six come in, here's this nigger sitting +up here. Here's a lot of folks waitin' to buy him. One would say, 'I bid +so much.' Another would say, 'I bid so much.' That would go on till the +biddin' got as high as it would go. Then the little nigger would go to +the highest bidder if the bid suited master.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father didn't know their age. The white folks kept the +ages, and that was something they didn't allow the slaves to handle. I +must have been four or five years old when my mother was in the field, +because I wasn't allowed to take the baby out of the cradle but just to +sit and rock it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Arkansas</b></p> + +<p>"When I come to Arkansas, stages was running from Little Rock down +toward Pine Bluff. Jesse James robbed the Pine Bluff train. That about +the first train came in. They cut down the trees across the train track. +They had a wooden gun and they went in there and robbed that train with +it. They sent him to the pen and he learned a trade making cigars.</p> + +<p>"The Union Station was just like that hillside. It was just one street +in the town. I don't know what year nor nothing about it because when I +came here it was just like somebody didn't have any sense.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Plantation</b></p> + +<p>"The slave quarter was a row of houses. The plantation was high land. +The houses were little log houses with one room. They had fire arches. +They would hang pots over the fire. They would have spiders that you +call ovens. You would put coals on top of the spider and you would put +them under it and you could smell that stuff cooking! The door was in +the top of the spider and the coals would be on top of the door.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't cook nothin' then without somebody knowin' it. Couldn't +cook and eat in the back while folk sit in the front without them +knowin' it. They used to steal from the old master and cook it and they +would be burning rags or something to keep the white folks from smelling +it.</p> + +<p>The riding boss would come round about nine o'clock to see if you had +gone to bed or not. If they could steal a chicken or pig and kill and +cut it up, this one would take a piece and that one would take a piece +and they would burn the cotton to keep down the scent. The rider would +come round in June and July too when they thought the people would be +hunting the watermelons.</p> + +<p>"When the soldiers came, the niggers run and hid under the beds and the +soldiers came and poked their bayonets under the bed and shouted, 'Come +on out from under there. You're free!'</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Destructiveness of Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"The soldiers would tear down the beehives and break up the smoke +houses. They wasn't tryin' to git nothin' to eat. They was just +destroying things for devilment. They pulled all the stoppers out of the +molasses. They cut the smoked meat down and let it fall in the molasses.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Rations</b></p> + +<p>"Every Saturday, they would give my father and his wife half a gallon of +molasses, so much side meat. And then they would give half a bushel of +meal I reckon. Whatever they would give they would give 'em right out of +the smoke house. Sweet potatoes they would give. Sugar and coffee they'd +make. There wasn't nothing 'bout buying no sugar then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How the Day Went</b></p> + +<p>"The riding boss would come round before the day broke and wake you up. +You had to be in the field before sun-up—that is the man would. The +woman who had a little child had a little more play than the man, +because she had to care for the child before she left. She had to carry +the child over to the old lady that took care of the babies. The cook +that cooked up to the big house, she cooked bread and milk and sent it +to the larger children for their dinner. They didn't feed the little +children because their mothers had to nurse them. The mother went to the +field as soon as she cared for her child. She would come back and nurse +the child around about twice. She would come once in the morning about +ten o'clock and once again at twelve o'clock before she ate her own +lunch. She and her husband ate their dinner in the field. She would come +back again about three p.m. Then you wouldn't see her any more till dark +that night. Long as you could see you had to stay in the field. They +didn't come home till sundown.</p> + +<p>"Then the mother would go and get the children and bring them home. She +would cook for supper and feed them. She'd have to go somewheres and get +them. Maybe the children would be asleep before she would get all that +done. Then she would have to wake them up and feed them.</p> + +<p>"I remember one time my sister and me were laying near the fire asleep +and my sister kicked the pot over and burned me from my knee to my foot. +My old master didn't have no wife, so he had me carried up to the house +and treated by the old woman who kept the house for him. She was a +slave. When I got so I could hobble around a little, he would sometimes +let the little niggers come up to the house and I would get these big +peanuts and break them up and throw them out to them so he could have +fun seeing them scramble for them.</p> + +<p>"After the children had been fed, the mother would cook the next day's +breakfast and she would cook the next day's dinner and put it in the +pail so that everything would be ready when the riding boss would come +around. Cause when he came, it meant move.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>The Old Lady at the Big House</b></p> + +<p>"The old lady at the big house took care of the gourds and bowls. The +parents didn't have nothing to do with them. She fed the children that +was weaned. Mother and daddy didn't have nothing to do with that at +noontime because they was in the field. White folks fed them corn bread +and milk. Up to the big house besides that, she didn't have anything to +do except take care of things around the house, keep the white man's +things clean and do his cooking.</p> + +<p>"She never carried the gourds and bowls herself. She just fixed them. +The yard man brought them down to the quarters and we would take them +back. She wash them and scrape them till they was white and thin as +paper. They was always clean.</p> + +<p>"She wasn't related to me. I couldn't call her name to save my life.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Relatives</b></p> + +<p>"We come from Barbour, Alabama with a trainful of people that were +immigrating. We just chartered a train and came, we had so many. Of all +the old people that came here in that time, my aunt is the oldest. You +will find her out on Twenty-fourth Street and Pulaski. She has been my +aunt ever since I can remember. She must be nearly a hundred or more.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"When we had the patrollers it was just like the white man would have +another white man working for him. It was to see that the Negroes went +to bed on time and didn't steal nothing. But my master and missis never +allowed anybody to whip their slaves.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>What the Slaves Expected and Got</b></p> + +<p>"I don't know what the slaves was expecting to get, but my parents when +they left Ben See's place had nothing but the few clothes in the house. +They didn't give em nothing. They had some clothes all right, enough to +cover themselves. I don't know what kind or how much because I wasn't +old enough to know all into such details.</p> + +<p>"When we left Ben See's plantation and went down into Alabama, we left +there on a wagon. Daddy was driving four big steers hitched to it. There +was just three of us children. The little boy my mother was schooling +then, it died. It died when we went down betwixt New Falls and +Montgomery, Alabama. I don't know when we left Alabama nor how long we +stayed there. After he was told he was free, I know he didn't make nare +another crop on Ben See's plantation.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>1865-1938</b></p> + +<p>"My father, when he left from where we was freed, he went to hauling +logs for a sawmill, and then he farmed. He done that for years, driving +these old oxen. He mostly did this logging and my mother did the +farming.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you what kind of time it was right after the Civil War +because I was too young to notice. All our lives I had plenty to eat. +When we first came to Arkansas we stopped at old Mary Jones down in +Riceville, and then we went down on the Gates Farm at Biscoe. Then we +went from there to Atkins up in Pope County. No, he went up in the sand +hills and bought him a home and then he went up into Atkins. Of course, +I was a married woman by that time.</p> + +<p>"I married the second year I came to Arkansas, about sixty-two or +sixty-three years ago. I have lived in Little Rock about thirty-two or +thirty-three years. When I first came here, I came right up here on +Seventeenth and State streets.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Voting</b></p> + +<p>"I never voted. For twenty years the old white lady I stayed with looked +after my taxes. None of my friends ever voted. I ain't got nothing but +some children and they ain't never been crazy enough to go to anybody's +polls.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Family</b></p> + +<p>"I have two brothers dead and a sister. My mother is dead. I am not sure +whether or not my father is dead. The Ku Klux scared him out of Atkins, +and he went up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I ain't never heard of him since. +I don't know whether he is dead or not.</p> + +<p>"I have raised five children of my own.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"These Ku Klux, they had not long ago used to go and whip folks that +wasn't doing right. That was mongst the white people and the colored. +Comer that used to have this furniture store on Main Street, he used to +be the head of it, they say.</p> + +<p>"I used to work for an old white man who told me how they done. They +would walk along the street with their disguises hidden under their +arms. Then when they got to the meeting place, they would put their +disguises on and go out and do their devilment. Then when they were +through, they would take the disguise off again and go on back about +their business, Old man Wolf, he used to tell me about it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Occupation</b></p> + +<p>"I nursed for every prominent doctor in Little Rock,—Dr. Judd, Dr. +Flynch, Dr. Flynn, Dr. Fly, Dr. Morgan Smith, and a number of others."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasMandy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mandy Thomas, 13th and Pearl Streets,<br> + Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78<br> +Occupation: Laundress</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I know my sister told me I was five when my mama was freed. I was born +down below El Dorado. Andrew Jaggers was my mother's old master.</p> + +<p>"I just remember the soldiers goin' past. I think they was Yankees. They +never stopped as I knows of.</p> + +<p>"I've seed my young missis whip my mother.</p> + +<p>"My papa belonged to the Agees. After I got up good sized, they told me +'bout my papa. He went with his white folks to Texas and we never did +see him after we got up good size. So mama took a drove of us and went +to work for some more white folks.</p> + +<p>"I was good and grown when I married and I been workin' hard ever since. +I was out pickin' huckleberries tryin' to get some money to buy baby +clothes when my first girl was born. Yes ma'am."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasOmelia1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas<br> + 519 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 70<br> +Occupation: Making cotton and corn</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Louisiana—in Vidalia. My mother's name was Emma Grant. +My father's name was George Grant. My mother's name before she married +was Emma Woodbridge. I don't know the names of my grand folks. I heard +my mother say that my grandmother was named Matilda Woodbridge. I never +got to see her. That is what I heard my mother say.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the names of my mother's master, and I don't know the +names of my father's white folks.</p> + +<p>"My father was George Grant. He served in the War. I think they said +that he was with them when Vicksburg surrendered. My father has said +that he was really named George LaGrande. But after he enlisted in the +War, he went by the name of George Grant. There was one of the officers +by that name, and he took it too. He was shot in the hip during the War. +When he died, he still was having trouble with that wound. He was on the +Union side. He was fighting for our freedom. He wasn't no Reb. He'd tell +us a many a day, 'I am part of the cause that you are free.' I don't +know where he was when he enlisted. He said he was sold out from +Louisville—him and his brother.</p> + +<p>"I never did hear him say that he was whipped or treated bad when he was +a slave. I've heard him tell how he had to stand up on dead people to +shoot when he was in the War.</p> + +<p>"My brother started twice to get my father's pension, but he never was +able to do anything about it. They made away with the papers somehow and +we never did get nothin'. My father married a second time before he +died. When he died, my stepmother tried to get the pension. They writ +back and asked her if he had any kin, and she answered them and said no. +She hid the papers and wouldn't let us have 'em—took and locked 'em up +somewheres where we couldn't find 'em. She was so mean that if she +couldn't get no pension, she didn't want nobody else to get none.</p> + +<p>"I don't know just when I was born, nor how old I am. When I come to +remember anything, I was free. But I don't know how old I am, nor when +it was.</p> + +<p>"I heard my father speak of pateroles. Just said that they'd ketch you. +He used to scare us by telling us that the pateroles would ketch us. We +thought that was something dreadful.</p> + +<p>"I never heard nothin' about jayhawkers. I heard something about Ku Klux +but I don't know what it was.</p> + +<p>"My father married my mother just after the War.</p> + +<p>"I been married twice. My first husband got killed on the levee. And the +second is down in the country somewheres. We are separated.</p> + +<p>"I don't get no help from the Welfare, wish I did. I ain't had no money +to get to the doctor with my eyes."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comments</b></p> + +<p>The old lady sat with her eyes nearly closed while I questioned her and +listened to her story. Those eyes ran and looked as though they needed +attention badly. The interview was conducted entirely on the porch as +that of Annie Parks. Traffic interrupted; friends interrupted; and a +daughter interrupted from time to time. But this daughter, while a +little suspicious, was in no degree hostile. The two of them referred me +to J.T. Tims, who, they said, knew a lot about slavery. His story is +given along with this one.</p> + +<p>I got the impression that the old lady was born before the War, but I +accepted her statement and put her down as born since the War and +guessed her age as near seventy. She was evidently quite reserved about +some details. Her father's marriage to her mother after the War would +not necessarily mean that he was not married to her slave fashion before +the War. She didn't care so much about giving any story, but she was +polite and obliging after she had satisfied herself as to my identity +and work.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasOmelia2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas<br> + 1014 W. Fifth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 63</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Marianna, Lee County, in Arkansas. I wasn't born right in +the town but out a piece from the town in the old Bouden place, in 1875. +My father kept a record of all births and deaths in his Bible. He never +forgot whenever a new baby would come to get down his glasses and pen +and ink and Bible. My daddy learned to read and write after the +emancipation.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Frank Johnson and my mother's name was Henrietta +Johnson. I don't know the given names of my father's and mother's +parents. I do know my mother's mother's name. Lucinda, and my father's +mother was named Stephens. I don't know their given names. My mother's +master was a Trotter.</p> + +<p>"My father was a free man. He hired his own time. He told me that his +father hired his own time and he would go off and work. He made +washpots. He would go off and work and bring back money and things. His +mother was free too. When war was declared, he volunteered to go. He was +with the Yankees. My father worked just like my grandfather did. +Whenever he had a job to do. He never had a lick from anybody, carried +his gun strapped down on his side all the time and never went without +it.</p> + +<p>"After the War, he worked on a steamboat. They used to kick the +roustabouts about and run them around but they never laid the weight of +their hands on him.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't allow him to go to school in slavery time. After the War, +he got a Blue Back Speller and would make a bowl of fire and at night he +would study—sometimes until daybreak. Then he found an old man that +would help him and he studied under him for a while. He never went to +any regular school, but he went to night school a little. Most of what +he got, he got himself.</p> + +<p>"He was born in Louisville, Kentucky. I don't know how he happened to +meet my mother. During the time after the War, he went to running on the +boat from New Orleans to Friar Point, Mississippi. Then he would come +over to Helena. In going 'round, he met my mother near Marianna and +married her.</p> + +<p>"Mother never had much to say, and the other girls would have a big time +talking. He noticed that she was sewing with ravelings and he said, +'Lady, next time I come I'll bring you a spool of thread if you don't +mind.' He brought the thread and she didn't mind, and from then on, they +went to courting. Finally they married. They married very shortly after +the War.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a motherless girl. My daddy said he looked at her +struggling along. All the other girls were trying to have a good time. +But she would be settin' down trying to make a quilt or something else +useful, and he said to a friend of his, 'That woman would make a good +wife; I am going to marry her.' And he did.</p> + +<p>"She used to spin her fine and coarse sewing thread and yarn to make +socks and stockings with. Her stockings and socks for the babies and +papa would always be yarn. She could do pretty work. She had a large +family. She had seventeen children and she kept them all in things she +made herself. She raised ten of them. She would make the thread and yarn +and the socks and stockings for all of these. I have known the time when +she used to make coats and pants for my father and brothers. She would +make them by hand because they didn't have any machines then. Of course, +she made all the underwear. She put up preserves and jellies for us to +eat in the winter. She used to put up kraut and stuff by the barrel. I +have seen some happy days when I was with my daddy and mother. He raised +pigs and hogs and chickens and cows. He raised all kinds of peas and +vegetables. He raised those things chiefly for the home, and he made +cotton for money. He would save about eight or ten bales and put them +under his shed for stockings and clothes and everything. He would have +another cotton selling in March.</p> + +<p>"When my father was in the army, he would sometimes be out in the +weather, he told us, and he and the other soldiers would wrap up in +their blankets and sleep right in the snow itself.</p> + +<p>"I farmed all my life until 1897. I farmed all my life till then. I was +at home. I married in 1895. My first husband and I made three crops and +then he stopped and went to public work. After that I never farmed any +more but went to cooking and doing laundry work. I came from Clarendon +here in 1901.</p> + +<p>"I never had any experiences with the Yankees. My mother used to tell +how they took all the old master's stuff—mules and sugar—and then +throwed it out and rode their horses through it when they didn't want it +for theirselves.</p> + +<p>"I married a second time. I have been single now for the last three +years. My husband died on the twentieth of August three years ago. I +ain't got no business here at all. I ought to be at my home living well. +But I work for what I get and I'm proud of it.</p> + +<p>"A working woman has many things to contend with. That girl downstairs +keeps a gang of men coming and going, and sometimes some of them +sometimes try to come up here. Sunday night when I come home from +church, one was standing in the dark by my door waiting for me. I had +this stick in my hand and I ordered him down. He saw I meant business; +so he went on down. Some of them are determined.</p> + +<p>"There's no hope for tomorrow so far as these young folks are concerned. +And the majority of the old people are almost worse than the young ones. +Used to be that all the old people were mothers and fathers but now they +are all going together. Everything is in a critical condition. There is +not much truth in the land. All human affection is gone. There is mighty +little respect. The way some people carry on is pitiful."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>The men who bother Omelia Thomas probably take her for a young woman. +She hasn't a gray hair in her head, and her skin is smooth and must be +well kept. She looks at least twenty-five years younger than she is, and +but for the accident of her presence at another interview, I would never +have dreamed that she had a story to tell.</p> + +<p>I went to see her in the quarters where she lives—over the garage in +the back yard of the white people she works for. When I got halfway up +the stairs, she shouted, "You can't come up here." I paused in +perplexity for a moment, and she stuck her head out the door and looked. +Then she said, "Oh, I beg pardon; I thought you were one of those men +that visit downstairs." I had noticed the young lady below as I entered. +She is evidently a hot number, and as troublesome as a sore thumb to the +good old lady above her.</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasTanner"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Tanner Thomas<br> + 1213 Louisiana, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born down here at Rob Roy on the river on the Emory place. My +mother's name was Dinah Thomas and my father's name was Greene Thomas. +He taken sick and died in the War on the North side. That's what my +mother told me. I was born under Mars Jordan Emory's administration.</p> + +<p>"I 'member somebody brought me here to Pine Bluff to Lawyer Bell's +house. I stayed two or three months, then Mars Jordan sent for me and +carried me back out to Rob Roy and I stayed with my mother. She had done +married again but I stayed with her all the time till I got grown and I +married.</p> + +<p>"I come here in 1892 and I been here ever since—forty-six years. Oh, +whole lots of these white folks know me.</p> + +<p>"I worked at the Standard Lumber Company and Bluff City Lumber Company +and Dilley's Foundry. Then I went to the oil mill. I was the order man. +I was the best lumber grader on the place.</p> + +<p>"Course I knows lots of white folks and they knows me too, I done a heap +of work 'round here in different places in forty-six years.</p> + +<p>"I went to school a little but I didn't learn nothin'.</p> + +<p>"My mother said they come and pressed my daddy in the War. 'Course I +don't know nothin' 'bout that but my mother told me.</p> + +<p>"Now, what is this you're gettin' up? Well, I was born in slavery times. +You know I was when my daddy was in the War.</p> + +<p>"Oh Lord yes, I voted. I voted Republican. I didn't know whether it +would do any good or not but I just voted 'cause I had a chance. My +name's been in Washington for years 'cause I voted, you know.</p> + +<p>"My way is dark to the younger generation now. I don't have much dealin' +with them. They are more wiser. Education has done spread all over the +country.</p> + +<p>"God intended for every man in the world to have a living and to live +for each other but too many of 'em livin' for themselves. But everything +goin' to work out right after awhile. God's goin' to change this thing +up after awhile. You can't rush him. He can handle these people. After +he gets through, with this generation, I think he's goin' to make a +generation that will serve him."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasWester"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Wester Thomas, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Sumpter County (Mississippi?). My mother was sold to Dr. +and Miss Kate Hadley. My mother's name was Lettie Williams and she +married Wesley Thomas. My name is Wester Thomas. I'm seventy-nine years +old. Mistress Kate raised me. Dr. Hadley had more than a hundred slaves.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you about freedom. Two men in uniforms come and told master. +He had the farm bell rung. They told them the Civil War was over. They +was free. The niggers went back to their quarters. Some moved later. My +folks never left. Dr. Hadley died. Mistress Kate took all that wanted to +go to Louisiana then. We cleared up land down there. Later I farmed."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonAnnie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Annie Thompson, Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: 55?</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was raised by my father's sister and my grandmother. Later on I come +to my daddy here and my stepmother had other children. I soon married. +I've had a hard time.</p> + +<p>"My grandparents was Harriett Edwards and William Snow. Grandmother said +they were nice to her. She was Master Edwards' house girl. She cooked +and was a spinner. When I was a girl she had her spinning-wheel and she +taught me to spin and knit. She spun thread for caps, mittens, +stockings, socks, suspenders, and coats. We knit all those things when I +was a girl. Grandmother said the white folks never whooped her. +Grandmother was her old master's own girl and she nursed with one of his +white wife's children. She was real light.</p> + +<p>"My father's mother was a squaw. I don't know her name. She was sold +from grandpa and he went to Master Snow. He never seen her any more. He +took another wife and jumped over the broom on the Snow place. He +thought some of his owners was terrible. He had been whooped till he +couldn't wear clothes. He said they stuck so bad.</p> + +<p>"My own father whipped me once till my clothes stuck to my back. I told +you I had seen a pretty hard time in my own life. I was born in +Starkville, Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"Since I was a girl there has been many changes. I was married by Rev. +Bell December 14, 1902. My husband is living and still my husband. I can +see big changes taking place all the time. I was married at De Valls +Bluff."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>This woman could give me some comparative views on the present +generation but she didn't. It is one of the Saturday gathering halls. +She depends on it somewhat for a living and didn't say a word either pro +or con for the present generation.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonEllenBriggs"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ellen Briggs Thompson<br> + 3704 W. Twelfth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p><b>Birth and Relatives</b></p> + +<p>"I was born in October 1844, in Nashville, Arkansas. I don't remember +the exact day. I have went through thick and thin. I was a small girl +when my mother died. I got the rheumatism so bad I can't hardly walk. It +hurts me now. My oldest brother, Henry Briggs, was five years older than +me, and my youngest brother, Isaac Briggs, was five years younger than +me. I was born October, but he was born at Christmas Eve just after +surrender. My oldest brother died last year. My youngest brother is in +Galveston, Texas. If he is living, he is there. My name was Briggs +before I married. I was just studying about my sister-in-law when you +come up. If I could get the money, I would go to see her. She was my +oldest brother's wife. Her name was Frances Briggs after she married. +She lives in Emmet, Arkansas, where he married her. I just had two +brothers, no sisters.</p> + +<p>"My husband's name was Henry Thompson. He has been dead about twelve or +thirteen years. I have had so much sickness I can't remember exactly. I +married him a long time ago. I got it put down in the Bible. I married +yonder in Emmet, Arkansas. I ain't got the Bible nor nothing. My brother +had it and he is dead.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Daniel Briggs. He died in Hot Springs. We were +small children when he and my mother was separated. He was in one place +and we were in another. He tried to get us children when he died, but we +was little and couldn't get to him. My mother was dead then.</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Susanna Briggs. Her father's name was Isaac Metz. +The children left him in South Carolina. The white folks sold them away +from him. My mother just had three children: me, and my two brothers. I +don't know how many my grandfather had. There were four sisters that I +know besides my mother and two boys: Aunt Melissa, and Aunt Jane, and +Aunt Annie, and Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Albert Mitchell, and Uncle Ben. My +grandmother's name was Betsy. I never got to see her but they told me +about her.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard them say that their white folks didn't whip them. My +master was a good man. My young master, when it come to the surrender, +slipped back home and told them they was going to be free as ever he +was. His name was Joe Mitchell. I never seed my white folks whip anybody +in my life. They just never whipped anybody. They never whipped me. I +have seen the white folks next to us whip their Negroes and I asked +grandma about it. She said that those were their Negroes and she would +explain what they was being whipped for. They was on another farm. I +don't remember what they was being whipped for.</p> + +<p>"My young master told the slaves when he notified them they was free +that if they didn't want to stay with him, he would give them enough to +go on till they could make it, you know, to keep them from starving. He +was a good man.</p> + +<p>"The old man, Joe's father, was named Thomas Mitchell. He died before I +was born. I never seed him, just knowed his name. Joe's mother was named +Isabel Mitchell. I came to be named Briggs because her husband's name +was Briggs. He belonged to a Briggs. I don't know what his name was +else. They didn't belong to the same master. They used to let them +marry. They would fix great big tables. Sometimes they would marry in +the house; that was in the winter. Then sometimes they would marry +outdoors. Then they would set a long table for all their associates to +eat just like you would fix a table for your friends. Looked like they +would be so glad to see their boys and girls marry. They would have +regular preacher and marry just like they do now.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't no breeders on our place. But I have heard of people who +did keep a woman just for that purpose. They never whipped her nor +nothing. They just let her have children. As soon as she had one, they +would take it away from her so that she could have another one right +away.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Jayhawkers</b></p> + +<p>"When my young master was gone to the War and the jayhawkers would come +around, my young master's mother would take all the colored women and +children and lock them up and she would take a big heavy gun and go out +to meet them. The Jayhawkers were white people who would steal corn and +horses and even slaves if they could get them. But colored folks was +sharp. They would do things to break their horses' legs and they would +run and hide. My uncle was a young boy. He saw the Jayhawkers coming +once. And he ran and pressed himself under the crib. The space was so +small he nearly broke his ribs. His mistress had to get him out and take +him to the house.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother used to take me with her after dark when she'd go out to +pray. She wouldn't go anywhere without me. One time when she was out +praying, I touched her and said to her that I heard something in the +corn crib. She cut her prayer off right now and went and told it to her +old mistress, and to the young master, who was in the house just then +telling the Negroes they were all going to be free. The Jayhawkers spied +us and they got out and went on their way. My young master crawled out +and went back to the Confederate army. He had to crawl out because he +wanted to keep anybody from seeing him and capturing him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"I never seed but one or two soldiers. That was after the surrender. I +suppose they were Union soldiers. They had on their blue jackets. There +never was any fighting in Nashville, while I was living there.</p> + +<p>"About all that I knew about the War was that the men went off to fight. +None of the colored men went—just the white men. The colored men stayed +back and worked in the field. Isabel Mitchell and her boys were bosses. +What they said <u>goed</u>.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Houses</b></p> + +<p>"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them were plank houses. +Some of the slaves chinked 'em up with dirt. They had these big wooden +windows in the houses. Sometimes they would be two, sometimes they would +be three windows—one to each room. There would be two or three or four +rooms to the house. That would be according to the family. My mother had +three girls besides her own children. She had a four-room house. Her +house was built right in the white folks' yard. My grandmother didn't +work in the field. She tended to the children. She worked in the big +house. My mother was boss of the whole thing. She would go and work in +the field but grandmother would see after the children. She wouldn't let +me go from her to the gate without her. I just had to follow her +everywhere she went.</p> + +<p>"Grandmother besides taking care of us used to make clothes. She cooked +for the white folks. But she sure had to see after us children. I seed +after myself. I was all the girl-child there and I just did what I +wanted to.</p> + +<p>"The country was kind of wild in those days. The deer used to come +loping down and we would be scared and run and hide. Some people would +set the dogs on them and some people would kill them no matter who they +belonged.</p> + +<p>You see, some people had them as pets.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"I never seed nothing in the way of amusements except people going to +church and going to parties and all such as that. They believed in going +to church. They would have parties at night. The white folks didn't care +what they had. They would help prepare for it. They would let 'em have +anything they wanted to have and let 'em go to church whenever they +wanted to go.</p> + +<p>And if they took a notion they would have a supper. When they would have +a party they would do just like they do now. They would have dancing. I +never seed any playing cards. When they danced, somebody would play the +fiddle for them. When they had a supper, they would usually sell the +things. Then the white folks would come and buy from them. There would +be nice looking things on the table.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Church</b></p> + +<p>"They had meetings at Center Point, and at Arkadelphia. And they would +let us go to them or anywhere else we wanted. We had to have passes, of +course. They had colored preachers. Sometimes the slaves would go to the +white people's church. They wouldn't go often, just every once in +awhile. White ladies would get after the colored to come and go with +them sometimes. Sometimes, too, when they would have a dinner or +something, they would take Aunt Sue or mother to cook for them. They +wouldn't let nobody meddle with them or bother them—none of the other +white folks. And they would let them fix a table for their own friends +that they would want to have along.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal Occupations</b></p> + +<p>"I used to work in the field or in the house or anything I could get to +do. I would even go out and saw these big rails when my husband would +have a job and couldn't get a chance to do it. It has been a good while +since I have been able to do any good work. My husband has been dead +fifteen years and I had to quit work long before he died.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right after the War</b></p> + +<p>"Right after the War my folks worked in the field, washed, cooked, or +anything they could do. They left the old place and came down about +Washington, Arkansas. I don't know just how long they stayed in +Washington. From Washington, my mother went to Prescott and settled +there at a little place they called Sweet Home, just outside of +Prescott. That is where my daughter was born and that is where my mother +died. I came here about nine years ago.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Present Support</b></p> + +<p>I came here to stay with my daughter. But now she doesn't have any help +herself. She has three small children and she's their only support now. +She's not working either. She just come in from the Urban League looking +for a job. They say that they don't have a thing and that the people +don't want any women now. They just want these young girls because they +make them work cheaper. We have both applied for help from the Welfare +but neither of us has gotten anything yet."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonHattie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Hattie Thompson, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born the second year after the surrender. I was born close to +Arlington, Tennessee. My parents was Mariah Thermon and Johnson Mayo. +They had eight children. They belong to different owners. I heard mama +say in slavery time she'd clean her house good Saturday and clean up her +children and start cooking dinner fore pa come. They looked forward to +pa coming. Now that was at our own house.</p> + +<p>"Mama was heired. She was the house woman and cook for her young +mistress, Miss Sallie Thermon. She married Mr. John Thermon. She was +Miss Sallie Royster till she married. I heard her say she raised Miss +Sallie's children with her own. She was a wet nurse. I know Miss Sallie +was good to her. I don't think she was sold but her mother was sold. She +would spin and weave and the larger children did too. They made bed +spreads in colors and solid white. They called the colored ones +coverlets. They was pretty. Mama helped quilt. She was a good hand at +that. They made awful close stitches and backstitched every now and then +to make it hold. They would wax the thread to keep it from rolling up +and tangling.</p> + +<p>"Thread was in balls. They rolled it from skeins to balls. They rolled +it from shuck broches to the balls. Put shucks around the spindle to +slip it off easy. I have seen big balls this big (2 ft. in diameter) +down on the floor and mama, knitting off of it right on. When the feet +wore out on socks and stockings, they would unravel them, save the good +thread, and reknit the foot or toe or heel.</p> + +<p>"When I was a child, patching and darning was stylish. Soon as the +washing was brung in the clothes had to be sorted out and every snag +place patched nice. Folks had better made clothes and had to take care +of em. Clothes don't last no time now. White folks had fine clothes but +they didn't have nigh as many as white folks do now.</p> + +<p>"Mama was a pretty good hand at doing mighty nigh what she took a notion +to do about the house. She never was no count in the field—jess +couldn't hold out it seem like. She worked in the field lots. Pa was a +shoemaker. He made all our shoes and had his tools, lasts, etc. He +learned his trade in slavery. He farmed.</p> + +<p>"It has been so long ago I tell you I don't recollect things straight. I +don't know how they found out about freedom but they left I think. They +got all they could take, their clothes and a little to eat. They started +share cropping. They was out from Holly Springs when I come to +knowledge. Mama was a nice hand at cooking and hand sewing. She said +Miss Sallie learnt her. She never could read.</p> + +<p>"I come to Arkansas fifty year ago this spring with one little girl—all +the little girl I ever had. I never had no boys. I come here to get +work. I always got work. It was a new country and it was being cleared +out. In the spring we could get wild polk greens to cook. You can't get +none now.</p> + +<p>"Times is sider'bly changed since then. Hogs run wild. Plenty game here +then. Something to eat was not hard to get then as it is now. We raise a +hog in a pen nearly every year but it takes plenty to feed it that way.</p> + +<p>"My husband have rheumatism and we get $12 and commodities. He works in +the field and I wash and iron when I can get some to do. That is scarce. +He works all he can."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonMamie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Mamie Thompson<br> + Brinkley, Ark.<br> +Age: 68</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I come here with my parents in 1887. Nothing much here in Brinkley then +but woods and three stores. My mother was a mix-breed. She was mixed +with Cherokee Indian and Negro. My father come from Virginia. He was +black—so black he shined. My mother was born in Cairo, Illinois. My +mother and father both died here in Brinkley. This town started from a +big saw mill."</p> + +<p>"Understand, all I knows was told to me by my parents. Grandma's master +was Master Redman. He kept Aunt Emma and my mother. They never was sold. +My mother was put on the block but her mistress come took her down. +Master Redman had her in the field working. The overseer was a white +man. He tried to take her down and carry on with her. She led him to the +house. He wanted her whooped cause she had whooped him sort of. He was +mad cause he couldn't overpower her. Master Redman got her in the +kitchen to whoop her with a cow hide; she told him she would kill him; +she got a stick. He let her out and they come to buy her—<u>a Negro +trader</u>. Old Mistress—his wife—went out and led her down from there +in the house and told Master Redman if he sold Mattie she would quit +him—she meant leave him. Mistress Redman kept her with her and made a +house girl out of her. She tended to the children and cleaned the house. +Aunt Emma milked and churned.</p> + +<p>"Grandma was a Molly Glaspy woman. She had straight wavy hair, small +eyes. She was a small woman. Grandpa was a tall big man. He was a full +blood Indian.</p> + +<p>"My mother called whiskey 'jagger'—I don't know why.</p> + +<p>"After Mr. Redman died, Miss Mary married Mr. Badgett. Me and George and +Sissy all growed up together. My mother was married twice too. She had +two of us by her first husband and eight children by her last husband.</p> + +<p>"I heard them say they lived in Crittenden County, Arkansas during the +Civil War. They lived in west Tennessee not far from Memphis when I was +a child. Mrs. Badgett lived in Memphis after she got old. Mary's mother +visited her long as she lived. I did too. She has been dead several +years. She give me a sugar bowl when I was twelve years old—I still got +it. I won't sell it. I'll give it to my girl.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about the Ku Klux. I never heard a great deal about them.</p> + +<p>"I don't vote—not interested.</p> + +<p>"Well, I sewed till the very day I was 65 years old. The foreman said I +was too old now, but sign up for the pension. I am crippled. I did. I +get commodities, but no money.</p> + +<p>"I washed, ironed, cooked. I worked at Mrs. Jim Gunn's and I cooked nine +years for Mrs. Dora Gregg. I work whenever I can get work to be done. I +like to sew but they cut me off."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonMike"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mike Thompson, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born near Honey Grove, Texas. I remember my grandparents on both +sides—they were all Thompsons. They were cotton and corn farmers. I +don't know where they come from. I was so small and as soon as the War +was done a whole gang of us come from Texas to Dardanelle, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"The Bushwhackers was so bad we was guarded to the line and they went +back. We come in wagons. Bushwhackers was robbers. I remember that. My +grandparents and parents all come in the gang. Clem Thompson, my owner, +died. He had a family. I don't know what become of none but Ed Thompson. +We was the same age and growed up together. I worked for him at +Dardanelle but I don't know how he come from Texas. He butchered and +peddled meat and had a shop too. I don't think Ed owned land over at +Dardanelle but my father owned eighty acres over there when he died. My +father was Cubit Thompson. His father was Plato Thompson. My mother was +Harriett Thompson.</p> + +<p>"The Thompsons was fairly good to their niggers, I recken. Ed was good +to me. He promised me I should never want but I don't know if he be dead +or not. I wish I could hear from him.</p> + +<p>"When I was about twenty-five years old I was coming in home from town +one night. I seen his house on fire. I kept going fast as I could run, +woke him up. He run out but his wife didn't. He said, 'My wife! my wife! +my wife!' I run in where he run out. She was standing back in a corner +the flames nearly all around her. I picked her up and run out and about +that time the whole house fell in. They never got through thanking me. I +come off over here and never hear a word from him. He always said I +saved their lives and hers mostly.</p> + +<p>"Times—young men can get work if they will go to the field and work. If +you can't work, times is hard two ways. If you are used to work, you +hard to get contentment and loss of the money too. Money don't buy much. +Awful sight of cotton and you don't get much out of it. Young folks is +got young notions.</p> + +<p>"I come to Widener in 1908. I made a good living. I own this house. Now +I got to quit working in bad weather. My rheumatism gets so bad. I'll be +eighty years old 23rd of September this year (1938)."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThorntonLaura"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person Interviewed: Laura Thornton<br> + 1215 W. Twenty-Fourth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 105?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My native home is Alabama. I was born not far from Midway, Alabama, +about twelve miles from Clayton. Midway, Clayton, and Barber are all +nearby towns. We used to go to all of them.</p> + +<p>"My master was Tom Eford. When he died, I fell to Polly Eford. Polly +Eford was the old lady. I don't know where they is and they don't know +nothing about where I is. It's been so long. Because I done lef' Alabama +fifty years. I don't know whether any of them is living or not. It's +been so long.</p> + +<p>"Their baby boy was named Giles Eford. His mother was Miami Eford and my +father's name was Perry Eford. That is the name he went in. My mother +went in that name too. My father died the second year of the surrender. +My mother was a widow a long time. I was a grown-up woman and had +children when my father died.</p> + +<p>"I married during slavery time. I don't remember just how old I was +then. My old man knows my age, but I can't remember it. But he's been +dead this year makes thirteen years. I had one child before the +surrender. I was just married to the one man. I was married after the +surrender. I don't want to be married again. I never seed a man I would +give a thought to since he died. Lord knows how long we'd been married +before he died.</p> + +<p>"We came here and stayed four years and we bought a home down on Arch +Street Pike about ten miles from here. I lived there sixty years. I've +got the tax receipts for sixty years back. I ain't never counted the +ones I paid since he's been dead.</p> + +<p>"I was the mother of three children and none of them are living. All of +them dead but me.</p> + +<p>"They made like they was goin' to give old slave folks a pension. They +ain't gimme none yit. I'm just livin' on the mercy of the people. I +can't keep up the taxes now. I wish I could git a pension. It would help +keep me up till I died. They won't even as much as give me nothin' on +the relief. They say these grandchildren ought to keep me up. I have to +depend on them and they can't hardly keep up theirselves.</p> + +<p>"When the Civil War broke out, my baby was about seven years old. My +mother was here when the stars fell. She had one child then.</p> + +<p>"I remember a war before the Civil War. I heard the white folks talking +about it. They wouldn't tell colored folks nothing. They'd work them to +death and beat them to death. They'd sell them just like you sell hogs. +My mother was sold from me when I was little. Old lady Eford, she was my +mistress and mammy too. If she ever slapped me, I don't know nothin' +'bout it.</p> + +<p>"My daddy made his farm jus' like colored people do now. White man would +give him so much ground if he'd a mind to work it. He had a horse he +used.</p> + +<p>"We lived a heap better than the people live now. They fed you then. You +ate three times a day. When twelve o'clock come, there dinner was, +cooked and ready. Nothin' to do but eat it, and then set down and res' +with the other people. There was them that was good.</p> + +<p>"But them what was mean done the colored folks bad.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Early Days</b></p> + +<p>"I was little when my mother was sold from me. I was runnin' about +though in the yard. I couldn't do nothing. But I was a smart girl. The +first work I can remember doin' was goin' to the field ploughing. That +is the first thing I remember. I was little. I just could come up to the +plough. I cut logs when I was a little child like them children there +(children about ten years old playing in the street). I used to clean up +new ground—do anything.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father both worked in the field. My father was sold away +from me jus' like my mother was. Old lady Eford was my mother and father +too. That was in Clayton, Alabama. Old Tom Eford had three boys—one +named Tom, one named William, and there was the one named Giles what I +told you about. William was the oldest, Tom was the second, and Giles +was the youngest.</p> + +<p>"I never learnt to read and write. In slave time, they didn't let you +have no books. My brother though was a good reader. He could write as +well as any of them because he would be with the white children and they +would show him. That is the way my brother learnt. He would lay down all +day Sunday and study. The good blessed Lord helped him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"The man I married was on the plantation. They married in slave time +just like they do these days. When I married, the justice of peace +married me. That was after freedom, our folks would give big weddings +just like they do now (just after the war). I ain't got my license now. +Movin' 'round, it got lost. I was married right at home where me and my +old man stayed. Wasn't nobody there but me and him and another man named +Dr. Bryant. That wasn't far from Midway.</p> + +<p>"I can't talk much since I had those strokes. Can't talk plain, just +have to push it out, but I thank God I can do that much. The Lord let me +stay here for some reason—I don't know what. I would rather go, but he +ain't called me.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How the Day Went</b></p> + +<p>"We got up after daylight. Tom Eford didn't make his folks git up early. +But after he was dead and gone, things changed up. The res' made 'em git +up before daylight. He was a good man. The Lord knows. Yes Lord, way +before day. You'd be in the field to work way before day and then work +way into the night. The white folks called Eford's colored people poor +white folks because he was so good to them. Old Tom Eford was the +sheriff of Clayton.</p> + +<p>"His folks came back to the house at noon and et their dinner at the +house. He had a cook and dinner was prepared for them just like it was +for the white folks. The colored woman that cooked for them had it ready +when they came there for it. They had a great big kitchen and the hands +ate there. They came back to the same place for supper. And they didn't +have to work late either. Old Tom Eford never worked his hands extra. +That is the reason they called his niggers poor-white folks. Folks lived +at home them days and et in the same place. When my old man was living, +I had plenty. Smokehouse was full of good meat. Now everything you git, +you have to buy.</p> + +<p>"Next morning, they all et their breakfast in the same kitchen. They et +three meals a day every day. My mother never cooked except on Sunday. +She didn't need to.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"Me and old lady Eford would be out in the yard and I would hear her +cuss the pateroles because they didn't want folks to 'buse their +niggers. They had to git a pass from their masters when they would be +out. If they didn't have a pass, the pateroles would whip them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Jayhawkers</b></p> + +<p>"The jayhawkers would catch folks and carry them out in the woods and +hang them up. They'd catch you and beat you to death.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Runaways</b></p> + +<p>"Colored folks what would run away, old lady Eford would call them +'rottenheads' and 'bloody bones.' We would hear the hounds baying after +them and old lady Eford would stand out in the yard and cuss them—cuss +the hounds I mean. Like that would do any good. Some slaves would kill +theirselves before they would be caught. They would hear them dogs. I +have seen old Tom Eford. He would have them dogs. He was sheriff and he +had to do it. He carried them dogs. He would be gone two weeks before he +would be back sometimes. Alden or Alton was the place they said they +carried the runaways.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Breeding</b></p> + +<p>"They never kept no slaves for breeding on any plantation I heard of. +They would work them to death and breed them too. There was places where +old massa kept one for hisself.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"Folks had heap more pleasure than they do now in slave time. They had +parties and dances and they would bow 'round. They had fiddles and +danced by them. Folks danced them days. They don't dance now, just mess +around. My brother could scrape the fiddle and dance on, all at the same +time. Folks would give big suppers and ask people out. They would feed +nice times with one another. Folks ain't got no love in their hearts +like they used to have.</p> + +<p>"Folks would give quiltings. They don't think about quilting now. They +would quilt out a quilt and dance the rest of the night. They would have +a big supper at the quilting. Nice time too. They would kill a hog and +barbecue it. They would cook chicken. Have plenty of whiskey too. Some +folks would get drunk. That was whiskey them days. They ain't got no +whiskey now—old poison stuff that will kill people.</p> + +<p>My daddy was jus' drunk all the time. He had plenty of whiskey. That was +what killed old Tom Eford. He kept it settin' on the dresser all the +time. You couldn't walk in his house but what you would see it time you +got in. Folks hide it now. I have drunk a many a glass of it. I would go +and take a glass whenever I wanted to.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"The old white folks told me I was free. They had me hired out. I wasn't +staying with my owner. There wasn't nobody there with me but the white +folks where I was staying. That morning I got up to get breakfast and +there wasn't no fire and there wasn't so matches. I went to some +neighbors to get a chunk of fire and they told me to go back to my folks +because I was free. When I got back to the house they was mad and wanted +to whip me. So I just put the fire down and never cooked no breakfast +but jus' went on to my brother's. The reason they wanted to whip me was +because I had gone outside of the house without their knowing it.</p> + +<p>"When I went to my brother's, I had to walk twelve miles. My brother +carried me to my mother and father. And then he took me back to old lady +Eford, and she told me to go on to my mother, that I was free now. So he +took me on back to my ma and pa. He said he'd do that so that I could +stay with them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Earnings</b></p> + +<p>"Slaves had money in slave time. My daddy bought a horse. He made a crop +every year. He made his bale of cotton. He made corn to feed his horse +with. He belonged to his white folks but he had his house and lot right +next to theirs. They would give him time you know. He didn't have to +work in the heat of the day. He made his crop and bought his whiskey. +The white folks fed 'im. He had no expenses 'cept tending to his crop. +He didn't have to give Tom Eford anything he made. He just worked his +crop in his extra time. Many folks too lazy to git theirselves somethin' +when they have the chance to do it. But my daddy wasn't that kind. His +old master gave him the ground and he made it give him the money.</p> + +<p>"My daddy left me plenty but I ain't got it now. I didn't care what +happened when he died. People made out like they was goin' to put my +money in the bank for me and took it and destroyed it. Used it for +theirselves I reckon. Now I need it and ain't got it—ain't got a penny. +For five or six years at my home, I made good crops. We raised +everything we needed at home. Didn't know what it was to come to town to +buy anything. If anybody had told me twenty years ago I would be in this +shape, I wouldn't have believed it because I had plenty.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>What Slaves Got When Freed</b></p> + +<p>"They said they was gwine a give the slaves something, but they never +did do it. Then the master made out like he was gwine a give the slaves +so much if they stayed 'round and made his crops for him, but he didn't +do it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Come Again</b></p> + +<p>"If the Lord lets you git back tomorrow, try and come a little sooner in +the day than you did today. I gits up about six in the morning. I don't +believe in layin' in bed late. I go to bed directly after dark and I +wake up early. The Lord never did mean for nobody to sleep all day."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>A number of people testify to Laura Thornton's age. I am trying to check +up on it. Results later. If she isn't a hundred [HW: and] five years +old, she is "mighty nigh" it. She has feeble health, but a surprisingly +alert mind, and a keen sharp memory. She has a tendency to confuse +Reconstruction times with slavery times, but a little questioning always +brings out the facts.</p> + +<p>She doesn't like to talk much about marriage in slavery. Evidently she +dislikes the fact that one of her children ms born before emancipation. +She was evidently married only once, as questioning brought out; but she +will refer to the marriage before emancipation and the one afterward as +though they were to different persons.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TidwellEmma"></a> +<h3>[HW: Curtis, Ark.<br> +Emma (Bama?) Tidwell]</h3> +<br> +<p><b>OLD SLAVE STORIES</b></p> + +<p><b>I</b></p> + +<p>Ah'm one uv dem ole timers. Ah been here since way back yonder. Fust +thing ah kin member is a bad storm an mah ma put us undah de baid. She +wuz skeered hit would blow us away. Ah use tuh play till ah got bigger +nuff tuh work. Ah member we use tuh play runnin. We'd play walkin tuh +see which one uv us could walk de fastest tuh de field tuh carry dinner. +We use tuh jump an we use tuh ride stick hosses an limbs offn trees.</p> + +<p>Ole boss learnt mah pa how tuh make shoes an de way he done: Dey kilt a +cow an a deer an take dey hides an tanned dem. De way he tanned hit wuz +tuh take red oak bark an white oak bark an put in vats. Dese vats wuz +somethin like troughs dat helt water an he put a layer uv oak ashes an +or layer uv ashes an a layer uv leather till he got hit all in an +covered wid water. Aftuh dat dey let hit soak till de hair come offn de +hide den dey would take de hide oft an hit wuz ready fuh tannin. Den de +hide wuz put tuh soak in wid de redoak bark. Hit stayed in de water till +de hide turnt tan den pa took de hide out uv de redoak dye an hit would +be a purty tan. Hit didn' have tuh soak so long. Den he would git his +pattern an cut an make tan shoes outn dat tanned hide. We called dem +brogans. We all wore shoes cause mah pa made em.</p> + +<p>We planted indigo an hit growed jes like wheat. When hit got ripe we +gathered hit an we would put hit in a barrel an let hit soak bout er +week den we would take de indigo stems out an squeeze all de juice outn +dem, put de juice back in de barrel an let hit stay dere bout nother +week, den we jes stirred an stirred one whole day. We let hit set three +or four days den drained de water offn hit an dat left de settlings an +de settlings wuz blueing jes like we have dese days. We cut ours in +little blocks. Den we dyed clothes wid hit. We had purty blue cloth. De +way we set de color we put alumn in hit. Dat make de color stay right +dere.</p> + +<p>Ah'll tell yuh how tuh dye. Er little beech bark dyes slate color set +wid copper. Hickory bark an bay leaves dyes yellow set wid chamber lye; +bamboo dyes turkey red, set color wid copper. Pine straw an sweetgum +dyes purple, set color wid chamber lye. Ifn yuh dont bleave hit try em +all.</p> + +<p>Mah ma made cloth while mah pa made shoes. Ah member jes as good when +dey handcuff mah ma's two brothers tuh keep um from runnin off when dey +got ready tuh sell em. Ah seed um handcuff as many as eight tugethuh +when dey marched dem tuh de pen. Yuh know dey had uh pen kinder like de +pond pen fer cows an hosses. Well dey would drive us niggers tuh de pond +pen an dey had er big block in de pen an dey put one uv us niggers on +hit at a time. Bid us off tuh de highest bidder. Mah ole boss wuz a +gambler. People talk bout dis gamblin an drinkin bein a late thing—dem +white fokes done hit way back yonder 90 years ergo, cause mah ole boss +gambled me off, ah clare he did. Gambled me off one Sunday mornin'. Ole +Boss made whiskey jes like dey do tuhday.</p> + +<p>Black preachers couldn' preach tuh us. Ole boss would tie em tuh a tree +an whoop em if dey caught us eben praying. We had er big black washpot +an de way we prayed we'd go out an put our mouths to der groun an pray +low an de sound wud go up under de pot an ole boss couldn' bear us. De +white preacher would call us under a tree Sunday evenin tuh preach tuh +us. Dis is whut his text would be: "Mind yo mistress." Den he would ceed +tuh preach—"Don't steal der potatoes; don't lie bout nothin an don' +talk back tuh yo boss; ifn yo does yo'll be tied tuh a tree an stripped +neckid. When dey tell yuh tuh do somethin run an do it." Dat's de kind +uv gospel we got.</p> + +<p>We cooked on fiuhplaces in er iron pot; cooked bread in a ubben. We had +ash cakes. We et purty good.</p> + +<p>Ah didn go tuh school. Ah wuz awful sly. Ah wanted tuh learn tuh read so +ah hung eroun ole mistess when she wuz teachin huh chillun tuh read. Ah +listened an when she put de book down an went out ah got de book. Ah +kep' hit up till ah learnt tuh read. Ah been teachin one Bible class in +Curtis 42 years. Some uv em dare ask me how ah learnt tuh read so good +an ah tole dem dat a person dat couldn' learn tuh read in a hunnert +years ought tuh be daid.</p> + +<p>Ah wuz twenty-two when de silver war broke. Ah know when hit started but +ah don' know whut hit wuz erbout. All I know Jeff Davis an Abraham +Lincoln wuz de two presidents. Lincoln wuz somethin like regular +president an Jeff Davis wuz somethin like er confedric president or +somethin. Ah didn' know jes how hit wuz. Jeff Davis ah think wuz er +rebel and Lincoln republic. When de fight come up dey wuzn fightin tuh +set de niggers free, ah don' think. At de time dey wuz fightin ovah de +Union but aftuh de slave owners wuz gwianter take de innocent slaves an +make dem fight on dey side. Den Lincoln said hit wouldn' be. So dat when +he sot em free. Whoopee! Yo ought ter seed dem Yankees fightin. Aftuh de +battle wuz ovah we would walk ovah de battle groun' an look at de daid +bones, skellums ah think dey called em. Aftuh de white fokes tole us we +wuz free dey didn' give us nothin. Turnt us out widout a place tuh stay, +no clo'es but whut we had on our back an nuthin tuh eat. We jes slept +undah trees an roun bout. Didn' have nuthin tuh eat cept parched corn. +We stole dat. Had tuh do somethin. De nex year de white fokes let us +make a crop wid den fuh somethin tuh eat an clo'es an de women could +work fuh a few clo'es an somethin tuh eat. So in er year er two niggers +went tuh tryin tuh duh somethin fuh demselves, an been tryin tuh help +dey selfs evah since. Ah know all bout hit. Ah wuz tall an ah is now +when dey cried "Free!" Ain't growed nairy nother inch.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TillmanJoe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Joe Tillman<br> + W. 10th and Highway No. 79<br> + Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1859 down here at Walnut Lake. The man what owned us was +Crum Holmes.</p> + +<p>"All I can remember was the patrollers and the Ku Klux. I reckon I ought +to, I seed 'em. I got skeered and run. I heered 'em talk 'bout how +they'd do the folks and we chillun thought they'd do us the same way.</p> + +<p>"I 'member hearin' 'em talk 'bout the Yankees—how they'd come through +there and how they used to do.</p> + +<p>"I guess we had plenty to eat. All I know was when I got ready to eat, I +could eat.</p> + +<p>"My parents was brought from Tennessee but all the place I know anything +about is Walnut Lake.</p> + +<p>"I know my mother said I was the cause of her gettin' a lot of +whippin's. I'd run off and the boss man whipped her cause she wasn't +keepin' me at home. If he didn't whip her, he'd pull her ears.</p> + +<p>"When we was comin' up they didn't 'low the chillun to sit around where +the old folks was talkin'. And at night when company come in, we chillun +had to go to bed out the way. Sometimes I'm glad of it. See so many +chillun now gettin' into trouble.</p> + +<p>"I never been arrested in my life. Been a witness once or twice—that's +the only way I ever been in court. If I'd a been like a lot of 'em, I +might a been dead or in the pen.</p> + +<p>"In them days, if we did something wrong, anybody could whip us and if +we'd go tell our folks we get another whippin'.</p> + +<p>"After freedom my parents stayed there and worked by the day. They +didn't have no privilege of sellin' the cotton though.</p> + +<p>"I didn't start to farm till I was 'bout twelve years old. They started +me bustin' out the middles till I learnt how and then they put the +plowin' in my hands.</p> + +<p>"White people been pretty good to me 'cause I done what they told me.</p> + +<p>"I went to school a little 'long about '70. I learnt how to read and +kept on till I could write a little.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote 'til they stopped us. I used to vote right along, but I +stopped foolin' with it. 'Course we can vote in the president election +but I got so I couldn't see what ticket I was votin', so I stopped +foolin' with it.</p> + +<p>"I farmed till 'bout '94, then I worked at the compress and brick work."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TimsJT"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: J.T. Tims<br> + 111 Mosaic Temple, Ninth and Broadway<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 86<br> +Occupation: Cook, waiter, and farmer</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Jefferson County, Mississippi in 1853. That would make me +eighty-six years old. I was born six miles from Fayette—six miles east +of Fayette. I was eighty-six years old the eleventh day of September.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Daniel Tims, and my mother's name was Ann Tims. My +mother was born in Lexington, Kentucky. Ma's been dead years and years +ago, and my father is gone too. My mother's name before she married was +----; she she told it to us all right but I just never can think of it.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the name of my mother's master. But my father's master was +named Blount Steward. Pa was born on Blount's plantation and Blount +bought my ma because they brought her from Kentucky for sale. They had +her for sale just like you would sell hogs and mules. Then my father saw +her and liked her and married her. She was a slave too.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Master</b></p> + +<p>"Blount Steward was kinder good. He was very well till the war +started—the Federal War. Miss Ann went to whip me for nothing.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Whippings</b></p> + +<p>"I was carrying her daughter to school every day except Saturdays and +Sundays. One day, Miss Ann was off and I was at the back steps playing +and she decided to whip me. I told her I hadn't done nothing but she put +my head between her legs and started to beatin' me. And I bit her legs. +She lemme loose and hollered. Then she called for William to come and +beat me. William was one of the colored slaves. William come to do it. +Ma had been peeping out from the kitchen watchin' the whole thing. When +William come up to beat me, she came out with a big carving knife and +told him, 'That's my child and if you hit him, I'll kill you.'</p> + +<p>"Then she sent for Tully to come and whip me, I mean to whip my mother. +Tully was my young master. Tully came and said to my mother, 'I know you +ain't done nothin' nor your child neither, but I'll have to hit you a +few light licks to satisfy ma.'</p> + +<p>"Blount come the next day and went down to where pa was making shoes. He +said, 'Daniel, you're looking mighty glum.'</p> + +<p>"Pa said, 'You'd be lookin' glum too if your wife and chile had done +been beat up for nothin'.'</p> + +<p>"When he said that, Blount got mad. He snatched up a shoe hammer and hit +pa up side the head with it.</p> + +<p>"Pa said, 'By God, don't you try it again.'</p> + +<p>"Blount didn't hit him again. Pa was ready to fight, and he wasn't sure +that he could whip him. Pa said, 'You won't hit me no more.' The war was +goin' on then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Runaways</b></p> + +<p>"The following Sunday night, twelve head of 'em left there. My ma and pa +and me and our whole family and some more besides was along. We went +from the plantation to Rodney, Mississippi first, trying to get on a +steamboat—gunboat. The gunboat wouldn't take us for fear we would get +hurt. The war was goin' on then. So we just transferred down the river +and went on to Natchez. We went there walking and wading. We was from +Sunday night to Sunday night gettin' there. We didn't have no trouble +'sept that the hounds ms runnin' us. But they didn't catch us—they +didn't catch none of us. My ma and my pa and my brothers and sisters +besides me was all in the crowd; and we all got to Natchez.</p> + +<p>"They are all dead and gone to Judgment now but me. I think that I got +one sister in Chicago, Illinois. She is my baby sister. I ain't never +heard nothing about her bein' dead.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Natchez</b></p> + +<p>"At Natchez, ma didn't do anything. We children didn't do nothin' either +there. But pa joined the army. He joined it the next day after he got +there. Then I went to work waiting on the sixty-fourth—lemme see—yes, +it was the Sixty-Fourth Brass Epaulettes. I was waiting on one of the +sergeants. He was a Yankee sergeant. The sergeant's name was Josephus, +and the captain of the Company was Lieutenant Knowles. I was with them +two years and six months. I never did get hurt. When they went to fight +at New Orleans, the captain wouldn't lemme take part in it. He said that +I was so brave he was a 'fraid I might get hurt.</p> + +<p>"Me and my father were the only ones working in the family at that time. +I stayed right in Natchez but my father didn't. My father's first stop +was in Bullocks Bar right above Vidalia. That was where his company was +stationed first. Lemme see, he went from there to Davis Bend. I wasn't +with them. He was in a colored regiment. I was with a white regiment. He +left Davis Bend and want to Vicksburg. His next trip was up the +Sunflower River. His next trip he went from there up here to De Valls +Bluff. That is where he come free. That was the end of the fighting +there—right there.</p> + +<p>"From there he come back to Rodney. We all want to Davis Bend while pa +was there. When he left and went to De Valls Bluff, ma went to Rodney. I +stayed with the soldiers two years and a half down there at Natchez. +That's as far as I went with them. When they left I stayed.</p> + +<p>"I went to Rodney with my mother and stayed with her and the rest of the +children till she died. My ma died in 1874. My father died down here in +Pine Bluff several years ago. After ma died, pa married another woman. +He went back to Pine Bluff and was killed by a train when he was +crossing a trestle.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Age and Other Masters</b></p> + +<p>"Blount Steward was the only master any of us ever had, outside of my +ma's first master—the one in Kentucky. I don't know anything about +them. I was eight years old when the war began and twelve years old when +it ended. I must have been older than that because I was twelve years +old when I was serving them soldiers. And I had to come away from them +before the war was over.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Work</b></p> + +<p>"The first work I ever did in slave time was dining-room service. When I +left the dining-room table, I left carrying my young mistress to school +six miles from Fayette. They give me to Lela, my young mistress. She was +the young girl I was carrying to school when I got the whipping. When +ol' mis' was whippin' me, I asked her what she was whipping me for, and +she said, 'Nothin', 'cause you're mine, and I can whip you if I want +to.' She didn't think that I had done anything to the girl. She was just +mad that day, and I was around; so she took it out on me. After that, I +never did any more work as a slave, because the whole family ran away +about that time. I don't reckon pa would ever have run off if ol' miss +hadn't whipped me and if ol' massa hadn't struck him. They rats good +till then; but it looked like the war made them mean.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers, Jayhawkers, Ku Klux, and Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"They had pateroles going 'round watching the colored people to keep +them from running off. That's all I know 'bout them. I don't remember +hearin' anything about the jayhawkers.</p> + +<p>"I heard lots 'bout the Ku Klux. They were terrible. The white folks had +one another goin' 'round watching and keeping them from runnin' off. The +Ku Klux would whip people they caught out. They would whip them just +because they could; because they called themselves bosses, because they +was white and the colored people was niggers. They didn't do nothin' but +just keep the slaves down. It was before the war that I knew 'bout the +Ku Klux. There wasn't no difference between the pateroles and the Ku +Klux that I knows of. If they'd ketch you, they all would whip you. I +don't know nothin' about the Ku Klux Klan after the war. I know they +broke them up.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Houses, Furniture, Food, and Work</b></p> + +<p>"Before the war, we lived in a old log house. It had one window, one +door, and one room. Colored people didn't have no two or three-room +houses before the war. I'll tell you that right now. All the furniture +we had was bed stools and quilts. 'Course we had them old stools that pa +made. We kept food right there in the house where we was in one corner. +We didn't have no drawers—nothing like that. The white folks fed us. +They give us as much as they thought we ought to have. Every Saturday +night you would go to the smokehouse and get your meat and meal and your +molasses. Didn't get no flour, no coffee, no sugar. Pa was an ox driver +and when he would go to Rodney to carry cotton, he would buy sugar and +coffee for himself. You see, they would slip a little something and make +a little money off it. Like they was goin' to Rodney tomorrow, they +would slip and kill a couple of hogs and carry them along with them. +That was the only way they could get a little money. My pa's main work +was shoemaking, but he worked in the field too. He was a driver chiefly +when he was out in the field. He hoed and plowed. He was the leader of +the gang. He never got a chance to make no money for hisself before the +war. Nope, the colored people didn't have no money 'tall lessen they +slipped and got it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Marriages</b></p> + +<p>"Say I wanted this woman for my wife. We would just put down the broom +and step over it and we would be married. That is all there was to it +before emancipation. Didn't have no matrimony read nor nothing. You were +married when you stepped over the broom handle. That was your wife.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>A Lincoln Story</b></p> + +<p>"They say Abe Lincoln come down in this part of the country and asked +for work. He had his little grip just like you got. The man said, 'Wait +till I go to dinner.' Didn't say, 'Come to dinner,' and didn't say +nothin' 'bout, 'Have dinner.' Just said, 'Wait till I go eat my dinner.' +When he come back, Abe Lincoln was up there looking over his books. He'd +done changed his clothes and everything. He had guards with him but they +didn't see 'em. That is the story I heard them tell.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>What the Slaves Got</b></p> + +<p>"When the slaves got freed, they wasn't expecting to get nothing that I +knows of 'cept what they worked for. They weren't spectin' no forty +acres and a mule. Who was goin' to give it to 'em? The Rebs? They didn't +give 'em nothin' but what they could put on their backs—I mean lashes.</p> + +<p>"Blount had stocks that he used to put them in. The stocks had hinges on +one side and latches on the other. The nigger would put his head in one +hole and his arms through the others, and the old man would eat on the +other end. Your feet would be stretched out and you would be layin' on +your belly.</p> + +<p>"Blount whipped me once because I wouldn't go to the cow barns to get +the milk to put in the coffee that morning. I didn't have time. They had +given me to Lela, and I had to take her to school. I was 'sponsible if +she was late. He had give me to Lela. Next morning with her, and we +didn't come back till Friday evening. She went down to her Aunt Leona +Harrison's and carried me with her. She was mad because they whipped me +when I belonged to her.</p> + +<p>"After slavery, we worked by the month on people's plantations. I did +that kind of work till after a while the white people got so they rented +the colored people land and selled them mules for their work. Then some +worked on shares and some rented and worked for theirselves. Right after +the war most of the farms were worked on shares. We were lucky to be +able to get to work by the month.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Schooling</b></p> + +<p>"I went to school in Natchaz, Mississippi. My teacher came from the +North, I suppose. But those I had in Rodney, I know they come from the +North. Miss Mary—that's all the name I knowed—and Miss Emma were my +teachers in Rodney. They come from Chicago; I never went to school here. +I didn't get no farther than the second grade. I stopped school to go +work when the teacher went back to Chicago. After that I went to work in +the field and made me a living. I hadn't done but a little work in the +field helping pa now and then before that.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriages</b></p> + +<p>"I married a long time ago in Rodney. Lord, it's been so long ago I +couldn't tell you when. I been married four times. They all quit me for +other men. I didn't quit none of them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Present Condition</b></p> + +<p>"I get along tolerably now for an old man. The welfare gives me a little +help. But I have to pay five dollars for these two rooms every month. +What's more, I got to eat, and I got to have somethin' to wear. +Washington won't allow me nothin' for my army service. They say I wasn't +regular. I gets eight dollars from the Welfare.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"The young people's terrible. They rather go to the penitentiary or the +county farm or get killed than to do what is right.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Voting and Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"I used to vote. I never had no trouble about it.</p> + +<p>"They tried to whip me once since freedom, but not about votin'. A man +tried to whip me down in Stoneville because another man give me a drink. +He tried to cut me with his knife. I knocked him down. I told him I +could kill him, but I just didn't want to. While I was swearing out a +warrant to get him arrested, he went and got a gun somewheres. He came +right on in with his pistol and struck me with it. I knocked him down +again, and he was dead for twenty-five minutes. They didn't have to go +nowheres to serve the warrant on him. Nobody did anything to me about +it.</p> + +<p>"I come to Little Rock fifty years ago or more. I farmed as long as I +was able. Doctor stopped me when I began to fall out.</p> + +<p>"I cooked for Dr. Stone and his wife for ten years in Greenville, +Mississippi. Then I come to Pine Bluff on a vacation. The next time they +give me a vacation, I stayed away for eleven years. I went to get some +money Dr. Stone owed me for some work I had done for him once and he +wanted me to come back and cook again. I didn't do that and he died +without paying me for the work. He said it was his brother that owed me. +But it was him that hired me. I 'tended to some mules for nine months at +four dollars a week. I never got but one four dollars. The miles +belonged to him and his brother both, but it was him that hired me. It +wasn't Captain Stone, his brother. It was him, and I looked to the man +that hired me for my money. I didn't have nothing to do with nobody but +him. It was him promised to pay me."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Throughout his story Tims carefully avoided using his first name. Never +at any time did he let it slip.</p> + +<p>The capture of New Orleans was effected in 1862. If the troop with which +he worked took part in the capture, he must have been twelve years old +by 1862, and his age must be at least eighty-eight. But this would be +inconsistent with his statement that he served Sergeant Josephus for two +years and a half. The detachment might have gone to New Orleans later +than '62. At any rate, Tims is at least eighty-five, and possibly older. +Here again we have a definite conviction of the use of the word Ku Klux +before the War. The way he talks of it, the term might have been a +colloquial term applied to a jayhawker or a patroller. He doesn't mean +Ku Klux Klan when he says Ku Klux.</p> + +<p>The Lincoln story is included on my part merely because it is at least +legendary material. I don't know what basis of fact it could or might +have.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="TravisHannah"></a> +Interviewer: S.S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Hannah Travis,<br> + 3219 W. Sixteenth,<br> + Little Rock, Ark.<br> +Age: 75<br> +Occupation: Housewife</h3> +<br> + +<p>"The Jay Hawkers would travel at night. When they came to a cabin, they +would go in and tell them that owned it they wanted something to eat and +to get it ready quick. They stopped at one place and went in and ordered +their dinner. They et the supper and went away and got sick after they +left. They got up the next morning and examined the road and the horse +tracks and went on. They all thought something had been given to them, +but I don't guess there was. They caught my mother and brought her here +and sold her. If they caught a nigger, they would carry him off and sell +him. That's how my mother came to Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what year I was born in. I know the month and the day. It +was February tenth. I have kinder kept up with my age. As near as I can +figure, I am seventy-three years old. I was 18 in 1884 when I married. I +must have been born about 1864, I was brought up under my step father; +he was a very mean man. When he took a notion to he'd whip me and mother +both.</p> + +<p>"My mother was born somewheres in Missouri, but whereabouts I don't +know. One of her masters was John Goodet. His wife was named Eva Goodet. +He was a very mean man and cruel, and his wife was too. My grandmother +belonged to another slaveholder and they would allow her to go to see my +mother. She was allowed to work and do things for which she was given +old clothes and other little things. She would take em and bring em to +my mother. As soon as she had gone, they would take them things away +from my mother, and put em up in the attic and not allow her to wear +them. They would let the clothes rot and mildew before they'd let my +mother wear them. If my mother left a dish dirty—sometimes there would +be butter or flour or something in the dish that would need to be +soaked—they would wait till it was thoroughly soaked and then make her +drink the old dirty dish water. They'd whip her if she didn't drink it.</p> + +<p>"Her other master was named Harrison. He was tolerable but nothing to +bragg on.</p> + +<p>"After she was Jayhawked and brought down South, they sold her to John +Kelly, a man in Arkansas somewhere. She belonged to John Kelly and his +wife when freedom came. John Kelly and his wife kept her working for +them without pay for two years after she was free. They didn't pay her +anything at all. They hardly gave her anything to eat and wear. They +didn't tell her she was free. She saw colored people going and coming in +a way they wasn't used to, and then she heard her Mistress' youngest +daughter tell her mother, 'You ought to pay Hannah something now because +you know she is free as we are. And you ought to give her something to +eat and wear.' The mother said, 'You know I can't do that hard work; I'm +not used to it.' After hearing this my mother talked to the colored +people that would pass by and she learned for <u>shor</u> enough she was +free.</p> + +<p>"There was a colored man there that they were keeping too. One Sunday, +they were taking him to church and leaving my mother behind. She said to +them, 'Well, I will be gone when you come back, so you better leave Bill +here this morning.' Her old mistress said to her, 'Yes; and we'll come +after you and whip you every step of the way back.' But she went while +they were at church and they did not catch her either.</p> + +<p>"The Saturday before that she made me a dress out of the tail of an old +bonnet and a big red handkerchief. Made waist, sleeves and all out of +that old bonnet and handkerchief. She left right after they left for +church, and she dressed me up in my new dress. She put the dress on me +and went down the road. She didn't know which way to go. She didn't know +the way nor which direction to take. She walked and she walked and she +walked. Then she would step aside and listen and ask the way.</p> + +<p>"It was near night when she found a place to stay. The people out in the +yard saw her pass and called to her. It was the youngest daughter of +Mrs. Kelly, the one she had overheard telling her mother she ought to +set her free and pay her. She stayed with John Kelly's daughter two or +three days. I don't know what her name was, only she was a Kelly. Then +she got out among the colored people and got to working and got some +clothes for herself and me. From then on, she worked and taken care of +me.</p> + +<p>"From there she went to Pocahontas and worked and stayed there till I +was about fifteen years old. Meanwhile, she married in Pocahontas. Then +she moved to Newport. When I was fifteen, I married in Newport. My +mother supported herself by cooking and washing. Then she got a chance +to work on a small boat cooking and doing the boat washing, and there +would be weeks that some of the deck hands would have to help her +because they would have such a crowd of raftsmen. Sometimes there would +be twenty or thirty of them raftsmen—men who would cut the logs and +raft them to go and bring them down the river. Then the deck hands would +have to help her. I too would have to wash the dishes and help out.</p> + +<p>"I went to school in Pocahontas and met my future husband (Travis). I +brought many a waiter to serve when they had a crowd. I took Travis to +the boat and he was hired to wait on the men. When they had just the +crew—Captain, Clerk, Pilot, Engineer, Mate, and it seems there was +another one—I waited on the table myself. I help peel the potatoes and +turn the meat. When we had that big run, then Mr. Travis and some of the +others would come down and help me. The boat carried freight, cotton, +and nearly anything might neer that was shipped down to town. Pocahontas +was a big shipping place.</p> + +<p>"My mother said they used to jump over the broom stick and count that +married. The only amusement my mother had was work. I don't know if she +knowed there was such a thing as Christmas.</p> + +<p>"Mother's little house was a log cabin like all the other slaves had.</p> + +<p>"They didn't give her anything much to eat. They was farmers. They +raised their own cattle and hogs. The niggers did the same—that is, the +niggers raised everything and got a little to eat. They had one nigger +man that was around the house and others for the field. They didn't +allow the slaves to raise anything for themselves and they didn't give +them much.</p> + +<p>"The slaves made their own clothes and their own cloth. They would not +let the slaves have anything much. To keep them from being stark naked, +they'd give them a piece to wear.</p> + +<p>"Mama got to see her mother in 1885. When I married she left and went to +Missouri and found her sister and half-sister and her mother and brother +or cousin. She found her sister's oldest daughter. She was a baby laying +in the cradle when mama ran through the field to get away from a young +man that wanted to talk to her.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother was a full-blooded Indian. Her husband was a French +Negro. Nancy Cheatham was her name.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They bothered some people about a mile +from us. They took out the old man and whipped him. They made his wife +get up and dance and she was in a delicate state. They made her get out +of bed and dance, and after that they took her and whipped her and beat +her, and she was in a delicate state too.</p> + +<p>"There was a man there in Black Rock though that stopped them from +bothering anybody. He killed one of them. They went to the train. They +was raging around there then. He got off the train and they tried to +take him to jail. The jail was way out through the woods. He hadn't done +anything at all. They just took hold of him to take him to the jail +because he had just come into the town. They had tugged him down the +road and when they got to the woods, he took out his gun and killed one +of them, and the rest left him alone. The man who was killed had a wife +and four or five children. They sent the nigger to the penitentiary. He +stayed there about a year and come out. That broke up the Ku Klux around +Black Rock and Portia. They never seemed to get much enjoyment out of it +after that.</p> + +<p>"I heard from different ones' talk that a big hogshead full of money was +given to the Negroes by the Queen, but they never did get it. I think +they said the queen sent that money. I reckon it was Queen Victoria, but +I don't know. But the white folks got it and kept it for themselves.</p> + +<p>"Didn't nobody have any rights then. They would just put em up on a +block and auction them off. The one that give the most he would take em. +Didn't nobody have no schooling only white folks. The white children +would go to school but they didn't allow her to go.</p> + +<p>"Once there was a slave woman. They worked her day and night. She had a +little log cabin of her own. The spirit used to come to her at night and +tell her if she would follow them she wouldn't have to work all the rest +of her life. At first she was scared. But finally, she got used to them +and she listened to them. She got directions from them and followed +them. She went up into the loft and found a whole lot of money hid +there. She took it and built her a new house and used it. I heard my +grandmother tell this. That was my step-grandmother named Dilsey.</p> + +<p>"One of my bosses had a lot of money and he hid it in a cave. They tried +to find it and to make my mother tell where it was hid, but she didn't +know and couldn't tell. They came back several times and tried to find +him at home but they couldn't catch him. That was in Missouri before +freedom came.</p> + +<p>"I hate my father. He was white. I never did have no use for him. I +never seen him because Mama was jayhawked from the place. I never heard +my mother say much about him either, except that he was red-headed. He +was my mother's master. My mother was just forced. I hate him."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TrotterMarcC"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mark C. Trotter, Edmondson, Arkansas<br> +Age: 71</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My owners was Miss Betty and Mr. Luke Trotter. I was born in Tunica +County, Mississippi. I farmed all my whole life. I did like it. One +thing they said about slavery, you couldn't get away. They had dogs and +you get away and have no place to go, nothing to eat. Travel was hard +through the rough wilderness. One owner would notify another about a +runaway. They would take him back or send him word to come get the +runaway. Some of 'em tried to stay in the woods. They said they never +tried to get away. I wasn't born till after freedom. They said they felt +sorry when somebody got beat but they couldn't help it. They had feeling +for their color.</p> + +<p>"I come to Arkansas in 1925. I jus' can make it. I'm sickly. I made my +part, three bales cotton, last year and prices was so low and provisions +so high it is all gone. I don't get no help from the Welfare.</p> + +<p>"I heard old folks set around the fire and spit and talk about them very +things but I got here too late to know well enough to tell it.</p> + +<p>"I recollect when seed was a scarce thing. We had to save all our seed. +The women would swap around. Folks had to raise their own stock.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux didn't bother us.</p> + +<p>"I voted here in town. I don't bother the polls no more. I don't own +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Times and folks both been changing all my life. Some things is better +and some people as good as they always been."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TubbsJames"></a> +<h3>El Dorado District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson (Colored)<br> +Subject: NEGRO FOLKLORE—Uncle James Tubbs<br> +Story:—Information</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Well ah wuz born second year after surrender. Some say dat makes me 72 +years old. Mah maw only had two boys. Ah am de baby. My pa wuz name +Manger Tubbs. I wuz a purty bad boy. When ah wuz one. Ah use ter hunt. +Use ter catch six and eight possums in one night. Ah use ter love ter +fish. Spunt er many a nite campin and fishin. An playin marbles wuz a +wonderful game in mah days yo knows. Fokes wuzen so wile den.</p> + +<p>"Ah recollect one night we went coon huntin and de boys wuz wanderin +roun and got lost. Some of de boys wuz wanderin roun tryin to git out +and couldn' so ah said: "Dar de seben star yo all jes wait and let me +fine de way out and dey say all right," "We gwina trus yo to fine out a +way out." Went on bout 200 yards and struck our fiel'. We crawled under +fence and went on, struck our coan (corn) fiel'. Den dey all reconcile +wha dey is and ah had a big laff. When ah wuz a boy ah use to drink a +little whiskey. Finally ah said that would be mah ruin. Aftah ah got +oldah ah jess decided ah'd quit. Ah nevah did do no hahm tho. Parents +didn't raise me ter drink, ah jes taken up the habit mahself. Ah use ter +steal Grandma's aigs, He! He! She use ter go ter church and tell us not +to bother anything and fore she got out er sight we'd done gone in de +hen house. We boys git dem eggs and git on out in our play thicket and +roast em and eat em and you know grandma found out where we roast dem +aigs at, and whooe if she didn' whup us. He! He! You know the wurst race +ah evah had in mah life ah wuz comin on fum Spearsville and two coach +whipper wuz layin side de road and you know dem things run me ooo-eee +till ah got tuh a stream and you know ifn hit had not bee fer dat watah +dem things woulder caught me.</p> + +<p>"Coase mah grandma and me had had some putty good races. She tryin' ter +cotch me but ah loves her terday fer dose races we had. Mah ma died when +ah wuz one munt ole. Mah pa married agin and mah step-ma wuz mean to me +so mah grandma come an got me and raised me. Ah hant nevah been in jail. +Haint nevah been rested er nothin. Ah wish the chilluns of terday wuz +like dey wuz when ah wuz a boy. We lived in er two room log house. Our +house had a double chimney and we cooked on dat. You know we'd put a big +back stick uv wood on. Mah pa loved his big back sticks of wood to hold +the fire. Wudden no stoves at that time. We cooked on chimney fires. We +et ash cakes. Hit sho wuz good too. Granma say ash cake wuz healthy. Ah +bleve fokes ought ter eat a few of dem now. We had a putty good school +house made outn logs. Ah stop school when ah wuz in the third grade. Ah +learnt purty fair. We uster have ter take rocks an beat corn ter make +meal. We wud have ter go sometime fifty mile to git ter a griss mill. An +when we couldn't git coan mashed inter meal we wud make hominy and hit +sho wuz good too.</p> + +<p>"Ah use ter card fer granma while she wuz spinnin. We made our socks, +gloves, and thread. We didn' have dat ter buy. When ah wuz a boy +everybody farmed and we had a plenty. Didn' have drouth in does days.</p> + +<p>"Any kine of lan' would produce. Ah use ter get a many lashin bout +pickin cotton. Ah couldn' pick until ah got dem lashins. Some fokes say +lashin don' help but ah clare dey do.</p> + +<p>"Ah use ter pick cotton and sing. Ah can recollect so well de song. Hit +went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +Me an' mah wife had a fallin out +She wanted me ter work on de railroad track +Etc. (See enclosed song) +</pre> + +<p>"Ah jes love ter talk bout when ah wuz a boy. We had a lop cabin fuh a +church house. In dem days on meetin' Sunday fokes would go ter church +and carry de chillun but now not neither the chillun nor dey ma's go +either.</p> + +<p>"Fokes would serve the Lord. Dey would git happy in de fiel' and fall +out choppin, choppin cotton. No sich times as hit wuz now. Aftah all er +mah youth and hardship and goodship the Lord called me ter preach and +when he called me ah answered. Ah wuz comin cross de fiel about 12 +er'clock. Ah tole him ah couldn' preach. Den ah heard a voice above mah +haid. Ah stopped and wondahed and pondered wid mahself knowin' de +condition uv mahself. Ah said, "Lord yo knows ah caint preach." Den ah +made a vow and ah stuck to hit but ah heard nother voice say, "Go and +preach" again. And ah heerd ah nother voice say "Yo go in de mawnin and +pray befo sunrise." Ah goes thar and gits on mah knees and tried ter +pray an ah heard dogs a barkin and chains rattlin an cats mewin and +everthing. Ah had heard ole fokes talk bout when yo go ter pray chains +and things would track yer tenshun. The same happen ter me. Ah want on +and ended mah prayer and yo know ah wuz a glad soul. Ah felt lak ah cud +go an then an do whut the Lawd said. Ah gone on an stahted preachin. Hit +seemed the church wuz so crowded wid so many local preachers ah couldn' +do whut de Lawd wanted me ter so ah ask the pastor ifn ah could run +prayer meetin and he said, "Why chile yes," and ah went on wid de prayer +meetin till ever'body quit his church and come to mah prayer meetin so +den he called mah han', got jealous and made me move mah prayer meetin. +So som good white fokes let me come ovah neah them and start a prayer +meetin so de people followed me and we built a church and hit is yet +dare terday."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="TuckerMandy"></a> +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mandy Tucker<br> + 1021 E. 11th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was here in slavery times but I don't know what year I was born. War? +I was in it!</p> + +<p>"I member old master and old mistis too. I member I didn't know nothin' +bout my mother and father cause it was night when they went to work and +night when they come in and we chilluns would be under the bed asleep.</p> + +<p>"I know the white folks had a kitchen full of we chilluns. We went over +to the kitchen to eat.</p> + +<p>"My mother belonged to the Cockrills and my father belonged to the +Armstrongs. They were cousins and their plantations joined.</p> + +<p>"I was large enough to know when they took my parents to Texas, but I +didn't know how serious it was till they was gone. I member peepin' +through the crack of the fence but I didn't know they was takin' em off.</p> + +<p>"They left me with the old doctor woman. She doctored both white and +colored. I stayed there till I was fourteen years old.</p> + +<p>"I know we had our meals off a big wooden tray but we had wooden spoons +to eat with.</p> + +<p>"I member when they was fightin' here at Pine Bluff. I was standin' at +the overseer's bell house waitin' for a doll dress a girl had promised +me and the guns was goin' just like pop guns. We didn't know what it was +to take off our shoes and clothes for six months. We was ready to run if +they broke in on us.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees had their headquarters at the big house near the river. All +this was in woods till I growed up. We used to have our picnic here.</p> + +<p>"I was standin' right at the post when they rung the bell in the bell +house when peace declared. I heered the old folks sayin, 'We is free, we +is free!'</p> + +<p>"I know before freedom they wouldn't let us burn a speck of light at +night. Had these little iron lamps. They'd twist wicks and put em in +tallow. I don't know whether it was beef or sheep tallow but they had +plenty of sheeps on the place.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Cockrill would have us come up to the big house every Sunday +mornin' and he'd give us a apple or a stick of candy. But them that was +big enough to work wouldn't get any. They worked on Sunday too—did the +washin' every Sunday evenin'.</p> + +<p>"Oh lord, they had a big plantation.</p> + +<p>"After the War I went to school some. We had white teachers from the +North. I didn't get to go much except on rainy days. Other times I had +to work. I got so I could read print but I can't read writin'. I used to +could but since I been sick seems like my mind just hops off.</p> + +<p>"After freedom my parents rented land and farmed. I stayed with the old +doctor woman till I was fourteen then I went to my parents.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was eighteen and had five chillun. When I worked for +my father he'd let us quit when we got tired and sit under the shade +bushes. But when I married I had to work harder than ever. My husband +was just a run-around. He'd put in a crop and then go and leave it. +Sometimes he was a constable. Finally he went off and took up with +another woman.</p> + +<p>"I been here in Arkansas all my life except eight months I lived in St. +Louis, but I didn't like it. When I was in St. Louis I know it started +to snow. I thought it was somebody pickin' geese. I said, 'What is +that?' and my granddaughter said, 'Gal, that's snow.'</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think of the younger generation. I think they is +just goin' out to nothin'. They say they are gettin' weaker and wiser +but I think they are weaker and foolish—they are not wise in the right +way. Some are very good to their parents and some are not.</p> + +<p>"Honey, I don't know how things is goin'—all I know is they is mighty +tight right now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TurnerEmma"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Emma Turner<br> + 330 W. Sixth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery days. They never did tell me when I +was born but I was ten the seventh day of August the same year we was +freed.</p> + +<p>"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas. I was born in Georgia. I sent +there and got my license to show my age. I was twenty years old when I +married.</p> + +<p>"George Jones was my old master. But, Lawd, them folks is all dead now. +Old master and old missis, yes ma'am, all of 'em dead.</p> + +<p>"Fight 'round us? No, they didn't fight there but they come through +there. Yes ma'am, they come through there. Oh, chile, they got horses +and mules.</p> + +<p>"Used to give us the Confederate money. Wasn't no good though. They got +the silver and gold. Confederate money was white on one side and green +on the other. Yes'm, they was Yankees.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes'am, old master was good to us. He didn't never marry. My +grandmother was the cook.</p> + +<p>"My mother was born in Virginia. I heerd her talk of the Nat Turner +Rebellion but I never did see him.</p> + +<p>"Our folks stayed right on after freedom and hired by the month. And +hired us children for our victuals and clothes.</p> + +<p>"I stayed there till I was married. Then I come to Vicksburg, +Mississippi. Had nine children and all dead but two.</p> + +<p>"Me? Oh, I done washin' and ironin' mostly, cooked and most anything I +could get to do. I'm all worked down now though.</p> + +<p>"We emigrated from Georgia to Mississippi. All my children born there.</p> + +<p>"I 'member the soldiers had guns and we was scared of 'em. We looked for +'em to come up the road but they come out of the woods and was around us +right now. They didn't mind creeks or nothin', ridin' horseback or +walkin'. I know they said, 'We ain't gwine hurt you.'</p> + +<p>"Old master's mother and father was named Sally and Billy. 'Member 'em? +'Co'se I do—many times as I waited on that table. But they all dead +'fore I even thought about bein' grown.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes ma'am, we had a plenty to eat. That's the reason I misses it +now.</p> + +<p>"I went to school one year but I had to work so hard I done forgot +nearly everything I learned. I can read a little but my eyes ain't no +good.</p> + +<p>"Dem Ku Klux—you dassent be out after dark. You better not be out on +the street after dark. But Sunday night they didn't bother you when you +went to church.</p> + +<p>"I was raised up with two white girls and their mother didn't 'low us to +get out of the yard.</p> + +<p>"I used to pick peas and cotton. Yes ma'am, that was when we was with +the same old man, George Jones. I used to huddle (herd) cows for miles +and miles. My mother was the milk woman. I don't know how many she +milked but she milked a heap of 'em.</p> + +<p>"Used to climb up in trees and tear our clothes. Then they'd whip us. +Old master say, 'Don't you tell me no lie.' Then old Miss Sally would +get a stick and make out she gwine kill us, but she wouldn't touch us a +lick.</p> + +<p>"Younger generation? Now you done asked me too soon. I set here and look +at 'em. Sometimes I don't know what gwine come of 'em. When we was young +we didn't do nothin' like they doin' now. Why we dassent raise our +dresses. If we see a man comin' we pull down our skirts. Yes, Lawd."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TurnerHenry"></a> +<h3>FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of interviewer: Watt McKinney<br> +Subject:<br> +Ex-Slave and Confederate Soldiers Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: "Uncle" Henry Turner (c)<br> +Place of residence: Turner, Phillips County, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Plantation hand<br> +Age: 93</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> + +<pre> +I'm gettin' old and feeble now and cannot walk no more +And I've laid the rusty-bladed hoe to rest. + +Ole marster and ole missus are sleeping side by side +And their spirits are a-roamin' with the blest. +</pre> + +<p>The above lines, had they been composed today, might well have been +written with reference to "Uncle" Henry Turner, ninety-three years of +age, of Turner, Arkansas, in Phillips County, and among the very few +remaining ex-slaves, especially of those who were old enough at the time +of their emancipation to have now a clear recollection of conditions, +customs, events, and life during those days long past immediately +proceeding and following the Civil War. "Uncle" Henry's eyes have now +grown dim and he totters slightly as, supported by his cane, he slowly +shuffles along the path over a short distance between the clean, +white-washed cabin where he lives with a daughter and the small, +combination store and post office, on the porch of which he is +accustomed to sit in an old cane-bottomed chair for a few hours each day +and the white folks in passing stop to speak a few words and to buy for +him candy, cold drinks, and tobacco.</p> + +<p>Though "Uncle" Henry is approaching the century mark in age, his mind is +remarkably clear and his recollection is unusually keen. He was born a +slave in northern Mississippi near the small towns of Red Banks and +Byhalia, was the property of his owner. Edmond Turner, and was brought +to Phillips County by "his white folks" some months before the war. +Turner, who owned some fifty other slaves besides Henry, settled with +his family on a large acreage of land that he had purchased about +fifteen miles west of Helena near Trenton. Both Turner and his wife died +soon after taking up residence in Arkansas leaving their estate to their +two sons, Bart and Nat, who were by that time grown young men, and being +very capable and industrious soon developed their property into one of +the most valuable plantations in the County.</p> + +<p>As "Uncle" Henry recalls, the Turner place was, it might be said, a +world within itself, in the confines of which was produced practically +everything essential in the life of its inhabitants and the proper and +successful conduct of its operations. Large herds of cattle, hogs, +sheep, and goats provided a bountiful supply of both fresh and salt +meats and fats. Cotton and wool was carded, spun and woven into cloth +for clothes, fast colored dyes were made by boiling different kinds of +roots and barks, various colored berries were also used for this +purpose. Medicine was prepared from roots, herbs, flowers, and leaves. +Stake and rider fences enclosed the fields and pastures and while most +of the houses, barns and cribs were constructed of logs, some lumber was +manufactured in crude sawmills in which was used what was known as a +"slash saw". This was something like the crosscut saws of today and was +operated by a crank that gave the saw an alternating up and down motion. +Wheat was ground into flour and corn into meal in mills with stone burrs +similar to those used in the rural districts today, and power for this +operation was obtained through the use of a treadmill that was given its +motion by horses or mules walking on an inclined, endless belt +constructed of heavy wooden slats.</p> + +<p>Candles for lighting purposes were made of animal fats combined with +beeswax. Plows, harrows and cultivating implements were made on the +plantation by those Negroes who had been trained in carpentry and +blacksmithing. Plows for breaking the land were sometimes constructed +with a metal point and a wooden moldboard and harrows made of heavy +timbers with large, sharpened wooden pegs for teeth. Hats of straw and +corn shucks were woven by hand.</p> + +<p>Small, crude cotton gins were powered by horses or mules hitched to a +beam fastened to an upright shaft around which they traveled in a circle +and to which was attached large cogwheels that multiplied the animal's +power enormously and transmitted it by means of belt to the separating +machinery where the lint was torn from the seed. No metal ties were +available during this period and ropes of cotton were used to bind the +bales of lint. About three bales was the daily capacity of a +horse-powered plantation gin.</p> + +<p>It was often difficult to obtain the services of a competent doctor and +except in cases of serious illness home remedies were administered.</p> + +<p>Churches were established in different communities throughout the County +and the Negro slaves were allowed the privilege of attending the +services, certain pews being set apart for them, and the same minister +that attended the spiritual needs of the master and his family rendered +like assistant to his slaves.</p> + +<p>No undertaking establishments existed here at this time and on the death +of a person burial was made in crude caskets built of rough cypress +planks unless the deceased was a member of a family financially able to +afford the expensive metal caskets that were available no nearer than +Memphis. "Uncle" Henry Turner recalls the death of Dan Wilborn's little +six-year-old boy, Abby, who was accidentally killed when crushed by a +heavy gate on which he was playing, and his burial in what "Uncle" Henry +described as a casket made of the same material as an old-fashioned door +knob; and while I have no other authority than this on the subject, it +is possible that in that day caskets were made of some vitrified +substance, perhaps clay, and resembling the present day tile.</p> + +<p>The planters and slaveowners of this period obtained the greater share +of their recreation in attendance at political rallies, horse races, and +cock fights. Jobe Dean and Gus Abington who came to Trenton from their +home near La Grange, Tennessee were responsible for the popularity of +these sports in Phillips County and it was they who promoted the most +spectacular of these sporting events and in which large sums of money +were wagered on the horses and the game cocks. It is said that Marve +Carruth once owned an Irish Grey Cock on which he bet and won more than +five thousand dollars one afternoon at Trenton.</p> + +<p>No Negro slave was allowed to go beyond the confines of his owner's +plantation without written permission. This was described by "Uncle" +Henry Turner as a "pass"; and on this "pass" was written the name of the +Negro, the place he was permitted to visit, and the time beyond which he +must not fail to return. It seems that numbers of men were employed by +the County or perhaps by the slaveowners themselves whose duty it was to +patrol the community and be on constant watch for such Negroes who +attempted to escape their bondage or overstayed the time limit noted on +their "pass". Such men were known then as "Paddy Rolls" by the Negroes +and in the Southern states are still referred to by this name. +Punishment was often administered by them, and the very mention of the +name was sufficient to cause stark terror and fear in the hearts of +fugitive slaves.</p> + +<p>At some time during that period when slavery was a legal institution in +this country, the following verse was composed by some unknown author +and set to a tune that some of the older darkies can yet sing:</p> + +<pre> +Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you +Run nigger run, it's almost day. +That nigger run, that nigger flew +That nigger tore his shirt into. +Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you +Run nigger run, it's almost day. +</pre> + +<p>Both Bart Turner and his brother Nat enlisted in the services of the +Confederacy. Nat Turner was a member of the First Arkansas Volunteers, a +regiment organized at Helena and of which Patrick R. Cleburne was +colonel. Dick Berry and Milt Wiseman, friends and neighbors of the +Turners, also volunteered and enlisted in Cleburne's command. These +three stalwart young men from Phillips County followed Cleburne and +fought under his battle flag on those bloody fields at Shiloh, +Murfreesboro, Ringgold gap, and Atlanta; and they were with him that day +in November in front of the old gin house at Franklin as the regiment +formed for another and what was to be their last charge. The dead lay in +heaps in front of them and almost filled the ditch around the +breastworks, but the command though terribly cut to pieces was forming +as cooly as if on dress parade. Above them floated a peculiar flag, a +field of deep blue on which was a crescent moon and stars. It was +Cleburne's battle flag and well the enemy knew it; they had seen it so +often before. "I tip my hat to that flag" said the Federal General +Sherman years after the war. "Whenever my men saw it they knew it meant +fight." As the regiment rushed on the Federal breastworks a gray clad +figure on a chestnut horse rode across the front of the moving column +and toward the enemy's guns. The horse went down within fifty yards of +the breastworks. The rider arose, waved his sword, and led his men on +foot to the very ramparts. Then he staggered and fell, pierced with a +dozen balls. It was Cleburne, the peerless field-marshal of Confederate +brigade commanders. The Southern cause suffered a crushing defeat at +Franklin and the casualty list recorded the names of Nat Turner, Dick +Berry, and Milt Wiseman, who like their beloved commander had given +their life for their country. There is an inscription on the stone base +of the magnificent bronze statue of General N. B. Forrest astride his +war horse in Forrest Park in Memphis that could well be placed above the +graves of Cleburne, Turner, Berry, and Wiseman, those brave, heroic +soldiers from Phillips County. The inscription in verse is as follows:</p> +<pre> +Those hoof beats die not on fame's crimson sod +But will live on in song and in story. +He fought like a Trojan and struck like a god +His dust is our ashes of glory. +</pre> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TuttleSeabe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Zillah Cross Peel<br> +Information given by: Seabe Tuttle<br> +Residence: Washington County, seven miles east of Fayetteville.</h3> +<br> + +<p>Seabe Tuttle who was born in slavery in 1859, belonged to James +Middleton Tuttle of Richland, which was about seven miles east of +Fayetteville.</p> + +<p>"I was just a baby when the war was but I do recollect a lot of things +that my ma told me about the War. Our folks all come from Tennessee. My +mother was named Esther, she belonged to Ole Man Tom Smith who gived her +to Miss Evaline, who was Mister Mid Tuttle's wife. The Tuttles and +Smiths lived joining farms."</p> + +<p>"You see, Mister Tuttle was a colonel in the Confederate army and when +he went off with the army he left all his slaves and stock in care of +Mr. Lafe Boone. Miss Mollie and Miss Nannie, and Miss Jim and another +daughter I disrecolect her her name, all went in carriages and wagons +down south following the Confederate army. They took my pa, Mark, and +other servants, my mother's sister, Americus and Barbary. They told them +they would bring them back home after the War. Then my mother and me and +the other darkies, men and women and children, followed them with the +cattle and horses and food. But us didn't get no further than Dardanelle +when the Federals captured us and took us back to the Federal garrison +at Ft. Smith, where they kept us six months. Yes'm they were good to us +there. We would get our food at the com'sary. But one day my ma and my +sister, Mandy, found a white man that said he would bring us back to +Fayetteville. No'm, I disremember his name."</p> + +<p>"We found us a cabin to live in here. Didn't have to pay rent then likes +they do now. We lived here but after a while my mother died. They had +two battles 'round here, the Battle of Prairie Grave and one was the +Battle of Pea Ridge, after we comed back but no soldiers bothered us. I +remember that back from where the Christian church is now, down to the +Town Branch, there was a whole lot of Federal soldiers staying, they +called it then Cato Branch, cause a man by the name of Cato owned all +that land."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I guess we had a purty good master and missus. We never did get +treated much rough."</p> + +<p>"After the War, Miss Evaline brought back all the colored people that +she took with her, but my father. He got married down there and didn't +come back for a long time. Then he did and died here. Two of Miss +Eveline's daughters married down there. They didn't have no boys 'tall, +just four girls."</p> + +<p>"When Peace was made the slaves all scattered. We none was givin' +nothin' for as I know. I worked on a farm for $13. a month and my board, +for a man down at Oxford's Bend, then I went down to Van Buren where I +worked as a porter in a hotel then I went to Morrilton and I married. We +come back here and I worked all the time as a carpenter. I worked for +Mister A.M. Byrnes. I helped build a lot of fine houses round here and I +helped put a roof on the Main Building at the University."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I own my home down by the school, I can't make much money these +days. It kinda worries me. My folks all dead but three of my brothers +children. One of these is blind. He lives on the old home my mother had. +The county gives him a little food and a little money."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, my white folks were all good to us. Purty good to us."</p> + +<p>"After Peace was made though, we all jes' scattered, somehow."</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11709 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Slave Narratives: Arkansas Narratives + Arkansas Narratives, Part 6 + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: March 25, 2004 [EBook #11709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES: ARKANSAS *** + + + + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced +from images provided by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p>[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note</p> +<p>[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br> + +<h1>SLAVE NARRATIVES</h1> +<br> + +<h2><i>A Folk History of Slavery in the United States<br> +From Interviews with Former Slaves</i></h2> +<br> + + +<h4>TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY<br> +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT<br> +1936-1938<br> +ASSEMBLED BY<br> +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT<br> +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION<br> +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA<br> +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</h4> +<br> +<br> + + +<p>WASHINGTON 1941</p> +<br><br><br> + +<h2>VOLUME II</h2> + +<h2>ARKANSAS NARRATIVES</h2> + +<h2>PART 6</h2> + + + +<h3>Prepared by<br> +the Federal Writers' Project of<br> +the Works Progress Administration<br> +for the State of Arkansas</h3> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>INFORMANTS</h2> + +<a href="#QuinnDoc">Quinn, Doc</a><br> +<a href="#QuinnDoc2">Quinn, Doc</a> + [TR: more stories]<br> +<br> +<a href="#RallsHenrietta">Ralls, Henrietta</a><br> +<a href="#RankinsDiana">Rankins, Diana</a><br> +<a href="#RassberrySenia">Rassberry, Senia</a><br> +<a href="#ReavesClay">Reaves, Clay</a><br> +<a href="#ReeceJane">Reece, Jane</a><br> +<a href="#ReedFrank">Reed, Frank</a><br> +<a href="#ReevesJames">Reeves, James</a><br> +<a href="#RhoneShepherd">Rhone, Shepherd</a><br> +<a href="#RichardDora">Richard, Dora</a><br> +<a href="#RicksJim">Ricks, Jim</a><br> +<a href="#RiggerCharlie">Rigger, Charlie</a><br> +<a href="#RigleyIda">Rigley, Ida</a><br> +<a href="#RitchieMilton">Ritchie, Milton</a><br> +<a href="#RiversAlice">Rivers, Alice</a><br> +<a href="#RobertsJ">Roberts, Rev. J.</a><br> +<a href="#RobertsonGeorge">Robertson (Robinson?), George</a><br> +<a href="#RobinsonAugustus">Robinson, Augustus</a><br> +<a href="#RobinsonMalindy">Robinson, Malindy</a><br> +<a href="#RobinsonTom">Robinson, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#RogersIsom">Rogers, Isom</a><br> +<a href="#RogersOscarJames">Rogers, Oscar James</a><br> +<a href="#RogersWillAnn">Rogers, Will Ann</a><br> +<a href="#RooksWilliamHenry">Rooks, William Henry</a><br> +<a href="#RossAmanda">Ross, Amanda</a><br> +<a href="#RossCat">Ross, Cat</a><br> +<a href="#RossMattie">Ross, Mattie</a><br> +<a href="#RowlandLaura">Rowland, Laura</a><br> +<a href="#RuckerLandy">Rucker, Landy</a><br> +<a href="#RuffinMartha">Ruffin, Martha</a><br> +<a href="#RuffinThomas">Ruffin, Thomas</a><br> +<a href="#RumpleCasper">Rumple, Casper</a><br> +<a href="#RussellHenry">Russell, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#RyeKatie">Rye, Katie</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#SamuelsBob">Samuels, Bob</a><br> +<a href="#SandersonEmma">Sanderson, Emma</a><br> +<a href="#ScottMary">Scott, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#ScottMollieHardy">Scott, Mollie Hardy</a><br> +<a href="#ScottSam">Scott, Sam</a><br> +<a href="#ScrogginsCora">Scroggins, Cora</a><br> +<a href="#SextonSarah">Sexton, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#ShaverRoberta">Shaver, Roberta</a><br> +<a href="#ShawMary">Shaw, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#ShawViolet">Shaw, Violet</a><br> +<a href="#SheltonFrederick">Shelton, Frederick</a><br> +<a href="#SheltonLaura">Shelton, Laura</a><br> +<a href="#ShoresMahalia">Shores, Mahalia</a><br> +<a href="#SimmonsRosa">Simmons, Rosa</a><br> +<a href="#SimsFannie">Sims, Fannie</a><br> +<a href="#SimsJerry">Sims, Jerry</a><br> +<a href="#SimsVictoria">Sims, Victoria</a><br> +<a href="#SimsVirginia">Sims, Virginia</a><br> +<a href="#SingfieldSenya">Singfield, Senya</a><br> +<a href="#SloanPeggy">Sloan, Peggy</a><br> +<a href="#SmallwoodArzella">Smallwood, Arzella</a><br> +<a href="#SmileySarah">Smiley, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#SmithAndrew">Smith, Andrew</a><br> +<a href="#SmithCaroline1">Smith, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#SmithCaroline2">Smith, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#SmithEdmond">Smith, Edmond</a><br> +<a href="#SmithEmmaHulett">Smith, Emma Hulett</a><br> +<a href="#SmithErvinE">Smith, Ervin E.</a><br> +<a href="#SmithFrances">Smith, Frances</a><br> +<a href="#SmithHenriettaEvelina">Smith, Henrietta Evelina</a><br> +<a href="#SmithHenry">Smith, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#SmithJL">Smith, J.L.</a><br> +<a href="#SmithJohnH">Smith, John H.</a><br> +<a href="#SnowMaggieCharlie">Snow, Charlie and Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#SolomonRobert">Solomon, Robert</a><br> +<a href="#SpikesJames">Spikes, James</a><br> +<a href="#StanfordKittie">Stanford, Kittie</a><br> +<a href="#StanhouseTom">Stanhouse, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#StarnesIsom">Starnes, Isom</a><br> +<a href="#SteelHezekiah">Steel, Hezekiah (Ky)</a><br> +<a href="#StenhouseMaggie">Stenhouse, Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#StephensCharlotteE">Stephens, Charlotte E.</a><br> +<a href="#StevensWilliamJ">Stevens, William J.</a><br> +<a href="#StewartMinnieJohnson">Stewart, Minnie Johnson</a><br> +<a href="#StiggersLiza">Stiggers, Liza</a><br> +<a href="#StithJamesHenry">Stith, James Henry</a><br> +<a href="#StoutCaroline">Stout, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#StreetFelix">Street, Felix</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#TabonMary">Tabon, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#TannerLizaMoore">Tanner, Liza Moore</a><br> +<a href="#TatumFannie">Tatum, Fannie</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorAnthony">Taylor, Anthony</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorLula">Taylor, Lula</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorMillie">Taylor, Millie</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorSarah">Taylor, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#TaylorWarren">Taylor, Warren</a><br> +<a href="#TeagueSneed">Teague, Sneed</a><br> +<a href="#TeelMary">Teel, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#ThermonWade">Thermon, Wade</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasDicey">Thomas, Dicey</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasMandy">Thomas, Mandy</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasOmelia1">Thomas, Omelia</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasOmelia2">Thomas, Omelia</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasTanner">Thomas, Tanner</a><br> +<a href="#ThomasWester">Thomas, Wester</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonAnnie">Thompson, Annie</a> + [TR: Corrected from "Thomas"]<br> +<a href="#ThompsonEllenBriggs">Thompson, Ellen Briggs</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonHattie">Thompson, Hattie</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonMamie">Thompson, Mamie</a><br> +<a href="#ThompsonMike">Thompson, Mike</a><br> +<a href="#ThorntonLaura">Thornton, Laura</a><br> +<a href="#TidwellEmma">Tidwell, Emma (Bama?)</a><br> +<a href="#TillmanJoe">Tillman, Joe</a><br> +<a href="#TimsJT">Tims, J.T.</a><br> +<a href="#TravisHannah">Travis, Hannah</a><br> +<a href="#TrotterMarcC">Trotter, Mark C.</a><br> +<a href="#TubbsJames">Tubbs, James</a><br> +<a href="#TuckerMandy">Tucker, Mandy</a><br> +<a href="#TurnerEmma">Turner, Emma</a><br> +<a href="#TurnerHenry">Turner, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#TuttleSeabe">Tuttle, Seabe</a><br> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="QuinnDoc"></a> +<h3>Texarkana District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland<br> +Subject: Social Customs—Reminiscences of an Ex-Slave<br> +Subject: Foods<br> +<br> +This Information given by: Doc Quinn<br> +Place of Residence: 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: None [TR: also reported as Ex-slave.]<br> +Age: 93 [TR: also reported as 94.]</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]<br> +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> + +<p>Several months ago, I called at 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas +where I had been informed a voluble old negro lived. An aged, +gray-haired, negro woman came to the door and informed me her father was +in the wood shed at the back of the house. Going around to the wood shed +I found him busily engaged in storing his winter supply of wood. When I +made known my mission he readily agreed to answer all my questions as +best he could. Seating himself on a block of wood, he told this almost +incredible story, along with lengthy discourses on politics, religion +and other current events:</p> + +<p>"I wuz born March 15, 1843, in Monroe County, Mississippi, near +Aberdeen, Mah Mahster wuz Colonel Ogburn, one ob de bigges' planters in +de state of Mississippi. Manys de time he raised so much cotton dat dem +big steamers just couldnt carry it all down to N'Awlins in one year. But +den along came de Civil War an' we didn't raise nothin' fo' several +years. Why? Becase most uf us jined the Confederate Army in Colonel +Ogburn's regiment as servants and bodyguards. An' let me tell yo' +somethin', whitefolks. Dere never wuz a war like dis war. Why I 'member +dat after de battle of Corinth, Miss., a five acre field was so thickly +covered wid de dead and wounded dat yo' couldn't touch de ground in +walkin' across it. And de onliest way to bury dem wuz to cut a deep +furrow wid a plow, lay de soldiers head to head, an' plow de dirt back +on dem."</p> + +<p>"About a year after de war started de Mahster got one ob dese A.W.O.L.'s +frum de Army so we could come to Miller County, where he bought de place +on Red River now known as de Adams Farm."</p> + +<p>"When we fust came here dis place, as well as de rest ob de Valley, wuz +just a big canebrake—nothin' lived in dere but bears, wolves, and +varmints. Why de Mahster would habe to round up de livestock each +afternoon, put dem in pens, and den put out guards all night to keep de +wolves and bears frum gettin' em. De folks didn't go gallivatin' round +nights like dey do now or de varmints would get them. But den we didn't +stay here but a few months until de Mahster's A.W.O.L. wuz up, so we had +to go back and jine de army. We fought in Mississippi Alabama, Georgia, +and South Carolina."</p> + +<p>"When de war ended de Mahster moved us to Miller County, but not on de +Adams farm. For de man whut used to own de farm said Uncle Sam hadn't +made any such money as wuz paid him for de farm, so he wanted his farm +back. Dat Confederate money wuzn't worth de paper it wuz printed on, so +de Mahster had to gib him back de farm. Poor Massa Ogburn—he didn't +live long after dat. He and his wife are buried side by side in Rondo +Cemetery."</p> + +<p>"Not long after de negroes wuz freed, I took 86 ob dem to de votin' +place at Homan and voted 'em all straight Democratic. On my way back +home dat evenin' five negroes jumped frum de bushes and stopped me. Dey +'splained dat I wuz too 'fluential wid de negroes and proceeded to +string me up by de neck. I hollers as loud as I could, and Roy Nash and +Hugh Burton, de election officers, just happen to be comin' down de road +and hear me yell. Dey ran off de niggers and cut me down, but by dat +time I had passed out. It wuz several weeks befo' I got well, and I can +still feel dat rope 'round my neck. Iffen dey had known how to tie a +hangmans knot I wouldn't be here to tell you about it."</p> + +<p>"It wuzn't long after dis dat I jined Colonel' Baker's Gang for +'tection. 'Colonel' Baker wuz a great and brave man and did mo' fo de +white folks of dis country den any other man. Why iffen it hadn't been +fo' him de white folks couldn't hab lived in dis country, de negroes wuz +so mean. Dey wuz so mean dat dey tied heavy plow shoes aroun' de necks +ob two little white boys and threw dem in de lake. Yes suh. I wuz dere."</p> + +<p>"And another time I wuz wid a bunch of niggers when dey wuz plannin' on +killin a white man who wuz a friend ob mine. As soon as I could I slips +away and tips him off. When I got back one ob dem niggers looks at me +suspicious like and asks, "where yo been, nigger?" I wuz shakin' like a +leaf in a storm, but I says: "I ain't been nowhere—just went home to +get some cartridges to help kill dis white man."</p> + +<p>"Not long after I jined Colonel Baker's Gang, we wuz comin' frum Fulton +to Clipper through de Red River bottoms. De river wuz overflowin' an' as +we wuz crossin' a deep, swift slough, Colonel Baker and his horse got +tangled up in some grape vines. Colonel Baker yelled, and I turned my +mule around and cut all de grape vine loose wid my Bowie knife. Dere +ain't nothin' like a mule for swimmin'. Dey can swim circles aroun' any +horse. As long as he lived, Colonel Baker was always grateful to me fo' +savin' his life."</p> + +<p>"De Colonel hated de sight ob mean niggers. We would ride up to a negro +settlement, and tell de niggers we wuz organizing a colored militia to +catch Cullen Baker and his gang. Most ob de negroes would join, but some +ob dem had to be encouraged by Colonel Baker's big gun. De recruits +would be lined up in an open field fo' drilling. And dey sho wuz +drilled. Colonel Baker and his men would shoot them by the score. Dey +killed 53 at Homan, Arkansas, 86 at Rocky Comfort, (Foreman) Arkansas, 6 +near Ogden, Arkansas, 6 on de Temple place, 62 at Jefferson, Texas, 100 +in North Louisiana, 73 at Marshall, Texas, and several others."</p> + +<p>"All of de big planters wuz friendly to Cullen Baker. I have carried +supplies many times frum de big plantations—Hervey, Glass, and +others—to Cullen Baker. De Colonel always carried a big double-barrel +shotgun. It must have been de biggest shotgun in de world, not less den +a number eight size. He whipped 16 soldiers at Old Boston wid dis gun +one time."</p> + +<p>"I saw Colonel Baker killed. We had just arrived at his father-in-law's +house and I wuz in the horse lot, about 50 yards from de house, when Joe +Davis. Thomas Orr and some more men rode up."</p> + +<p>"De Colonel wuz standin' by de chimney an did not see dem come aroun' de +house. Dey killed him befo' he knew dey wuz aroun'. One ob de men asked +Mr. Foster, "Where at dat d—n nigger?" I ducked down and crawled in +under de rail fence and ran—I didn't stop 'til I wuz deep in the +Sulphur River bottoms. Every minute my heart seemed like it wuz goin' to +jump right out uv my mouth. I wuz the worst scared nigger that ever +lived."</p> + +<p>"I have lived many years since dat time. De times and ways of livin' +have changed. I 'member killing deer where the Texarkana National Bank +stands, way befo' Texarkana wuz even thought of. This place wuz one of +my favorite deer stands. Nix Creek used to be just full ob fish. What +used to be the best fishing hole aroun' here is now covered by the +Methodist Church (Negro), in East Texarkana. Dr. Weetten had a big fine +home out where Springlake Park is. He wuz killed when thrown by a +buckin' horse. All of de young people I knew den have been dead many +years."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Foods</b></p> + +<p>The question of eating special food on a particular day immediately +brings in mind Thanksgiving Day, when turkey becomes the universal dish. +Perhaps no other day in the year can be so designated, except among a +few religious orders when the eating of meat is strictly prohibited on +certain days.</p> + +<p>The belief that negroes are particularly addicted to eating pork is well +founded, as witness the sales of pork to colored people in most any meat +market. But who could imagine that cotton-seed was once the universal +food eaten in this vicinity by the colored people? That, according to +Doc Quinn, a former slave, and self-styled exmember of Cullen Baker's +Gang, was the custom before and shortly after the Civil War.</p> + +<p>The cotton-seed would be dumped into a hugh pot, and boiled for several +hours, the seed gradually rising to the top. The seed would then be +dipped off with a ladle. The next and final step would be to pour +corn-meal into the thick liquid, after which it was ready to be eaten. +Cotton-seed, it must be remembered, had little value at that time, +except as livestock feed.</p> + +<p>"Yes suh, Cap'n," the old negro went on to explain. "I has never eaten +anything whut tasted any better, or whut would stick to your ribs like +cotton-seed, and corn-meal cake. Rich? Why dey's nuthin dat is more +nutritious. You never saw a healthier or finer lookin' bunch of negroes +dan wuz on Colonel Harvey's place."</p> + +<p>"I 'member one time tho' when he changed us off cotton-seed, but we +didn't stay changed fo' long. No suh. Of all de grumblin' dem niggers +did, becase dey insides had got so used to dat cotton-seed and corn-meal +dey wouldn't be satisfied wid nothing else."</p> + +<p>"One mornin' when about forty of us niggers had reported sick, de +Mahster came down to de qua'ters. 'Whut ailin' ye' lazy neggers?' he +asked. Dem niggers los' about fifty pounds of weight apiece, and didn' +feel like doin' anything. 'Mahster,' I say. 'Iffen you'll have de wimmen +folks make us a pot full of dat cotton-seed and corn-meal, we'll be +ready to go to work.' And as long as I work fo' Colonel Harvey, one uv +de bes' men whut ever lived, we always had cotton-seed and corn-meal to +eat."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="QuinnDoc2"></a> +<h3>Texarkana District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Mrs. W.M. Ball<br> +Subject: Anecdotes of an Aged Ex-Slave.<br> +Subject: Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes. (Negro lore)<br> +Story:—Information:<br> +<br> +Information given by: Doc Quinn<br> +Place of Residence: 12th & Ash Sts., Texarkana, Ark.<br> +Occupation: None (Ex-Slave)<br> +Age: 92</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.]<br> +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> + +<p>"Mah young marster wuz Joe Ogburn. Me and him growed up togedder an' I +wuz his body guard durin' de wahr. Many's de day I'ze watched de smoke +ob battle clear away an' wait fo' de return ob mah marster. All de time +I felt we wuz born to win dat wahr, but God knowed bes' an' you know de +result.</p> + +<p>"Three years ago I went to Little Rook wid Mr. Fisher. Lac' all folks +whut goes to dis city, we wend our way to de Capitol to see de Governor. +Gov. Futtrell sittin' bac' in his great fine office, saw me and jined me +in conversation. De fus' question he axed me wuz 'whut party does yo' +'filiate wif?' I sez, 'de Democrat—de party whut's a frien' to de +nigger.' De Governor axed me how does I lac' dis life? I sez 'very well, +tho' things has changed since slavery days. Those wuz good ole days for +de black man; didn't hafter worry about nuthin'. Now, I sho' does mah +share ob worryin'. I worries from one meal to de odder, I worries about +whure I'ze gwine get some mo' clothes when dese wears out?'</p> + +<p>"I tole de Governor mah 'sperience wif de Republican Party durin' de +wahr. I been hung fo' times in mah life an' one ob de times by de +Republicans. Long time ago, Mr. Roy Nash an' Mr. Hugh Sutton wuz a +settin' ovah de ballot box on 'lection day, when I voted 80 Democrats. +Yas, suh; I jus' marches 'em in an' tells 'em how to cas' dey vote. Dat +night, on mah way home frum de votin', goin' down de lonely road, I wuz +stopped an' strung up to a tree by de neck. Dey 'splained dat I wuz too +'fluential wid de niggers. When I wuz hangin' dere I did some manful +howlin'. Dat howlin' sho brought de white folks. When dey see mah +distres' dey 'leased de rope an' I wuz saved. Dat is when I 'pealed to +Col. Baker for 'tection. He wuz mah frien' as long as he lib, and he wuz +a good frien' ob de South 'cause he saved lots ob white folks frum de +wrath ob de mean niggers."</p> + +<p>(Note: The Col. Baker referred to was Cullen Baker, the leader of a +ruthless gang of bushwhackers that operated in this section shortly +after the Civil War.)</p> + +<p>Doc Quinn tells a "ghost story" connected with the old church at Rondo, +built in 1861.</p> + +<p>"De Masonic Hall wuz built up ovah dis buildin' an' ever month dey had +dey meetin'. One night, when dey was 'sembled, two men wuz kilt. Dat +sho' did scatter dat lot ob Masons and frum dat time on de spirits ob +dese men roamed dis chu'ch. Sometime in de dead ob night, dat bell wud +ring loud an' clear, wakin' all de folks. Down dey wud come, clos' like, +to de chu'ch,—but scared to go closer. Mr. Bill Crabtree, a rich man +an' a man whut wuz scared too, offered anybody $100.00 to go inside dat +chu'ch an' stay one hour. Didn't nobody need dat $100.00 dat bad!"</p> + +<p>The old negro tells the following grave yard story:</p> + +<p>"One dark, drizzly night, de niggers wuz out in de woods shootin' craps. +I didn't hab no money to jine in de game. One nigger say, "Doc, effen +you go down to de cemetey' an' bring bac' one ob dem 'foot boa'ds' frum +one ob dem graves, we'll gib yo' a dollar." I ambles off to de cemete'y, +'cause I really needed dat money. I goes inside, walks careful like, not +wantin' to distu'b nuthin', an' finally de grave stone leapt up in front +ob me. I retches down to pick up de foot boa'd, an' lo! de black cats +wuz habin' a meetin' ovah dat grave an' dey objected to mah intrudin', +but I didn't pay 'em no mind; jus' fetched dat boa'd bac' to dem +niggers, an'—bless de Lawd,—dey gib me two dollars!"</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes</b></p> + +<p>Some aged Negroes believe that many of the superstitious ideas that are +practiced by their race today had their origin in Africa. A practice +that was quite common in ante bellum days was for each member of the +family to extract all of their teeth, in the belief that in doing so the +family would never disagree. Fortunately, this and similar practices of +self mutilation have about become extinct.</p> + +<p>An old custom practiced to prevent the separation of a husband and wife +was to wrap a rabbit's forefoot, a piece of loadstone, and 9 hairs from +the top of the head in red flannel, and bury it under the front door +steps.</p> + +<p>As a preventitive against being tricked or hoo-dooed, punch a hole +through a dime, insert a string through the hole, and tie it around the +left ankle.</p> + +<p>To carry an axe or hoe into the house means bad luck. An itching nose +indicates some one is coming to see you, while an itching eye indicates +you will cry.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RallsHenrietta"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Henrietta Ralls<br> + 1 Fluker St.<br> + Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 88</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Mississippi, Lee +County, March 10, 1850. Come to Arkansas when I was ten years old. Had +to walk. My old master was Henry Ralls. Sometimes we jump up in the +wagon and he'd whip us out.</p> + +<p>"My old mistes name was Drunetta. She was good to us. We called her Miss +Netta. Old master was mean. He'd whip us. One day he come along and +picked up sand and throwed it in my eyes. He was a mean old devil. He +thought I was scared of him. Cose I was. That was before the war.</p> + +<p>"I recollect when the Yankees come. I knowed they was a'ridin'. White +folks made me hide things. I hid a barrel of wool once—put meal on top. +They'd a'took it ever bit if they could have found it. They wanted +chickens and milk. They'd take things they wanted—they would that. +Would a'taken ever bit of our wool if they could have found it.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't talk to old mistes—just talk to me and ask where things +was. She didn't notice them and they didn't notice her.</p> + +<p>"I reckon the Lord intended for the Yankees to free the people. They was +fightin' to free the people.</p> + +<p>"I hear em say war is still goin' on in the world.</p> + +<p>"The owners was tryin' to hide the colored people. Our white folks took +some of us clear out in Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' em. Miss +Liza was Miss Netta's daughter and she was mean as her old daddy. She +said, 'Oh, yes, you little devils, you thought you was goin' to be free! +She had a good brother though. He wanted to swap a girl for me so I +could be back here with my mammy, but Miss Liza wouldn't turn me loose. +No sir, she wouldn't.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I hired out—cooked, milked cows and washed and ironed.</p> + +<p>"I went back to Mississippi and stayed with my father. Old Henry Ralls +sold my father fore we come to Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"I never been married. I could have married, but I didn't. I don't know +hardly why.</p> + +<p>"I been makin' my own livin' pretty much since I left my father.</p> + +<p>"Biggest majority of younger generation looks like they tryin' to get a +education and tryin' to make a livin' with their brain without usin' +their hands. But I'd rather use my hands—cose I would.</p> + +<p>"I went to school some after the war, but I had to pay for it.</p> + +<p>"I been disabled bout five or six years. Got to have somethin' to take +us away, I guess."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RankinsDiana"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Diana Rankins, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 66</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born at Arlington, Tennessee but when I was a chile the depot was +called With. My parents' name Sarah and Solomon Green. There was seven +girls and one boy of us. My sister died last year had two children old +as I was. I was the youngest chile. Folks mated younger than they do now +and seem like they had better times when there was a big family.</p> + +<p>"Adam Turnover in Charleston, South Carolina owned my papa. When he died +they sold him. He was one year and six months old when he was sold.</p> + +<p>"I think S.C. Bachelor, around Brownsville, Tennessee, owned mama first. +She said they put her upon the block and sold her and her mother was +crying. The man after he sold her ask her if she didn't want him to sell +her. She said she didn't care but said she knowed she was afraid to say +she cared cause she was crying. She never seen her mama no more. She was +carried off on a horse. She was a little girl then. General Hayes bought +her and he bought papa too. They played together. General Hayes made the +little boys run races so he could see who could run the fastest.</p> + +<p>"Papa said they picked him up and carried him off. He said they pressed +him into the breastworks of the war. He didn't want to go to war. Mr. +Hayes kept him hid out but they stole him and took him to fight. He come +home. He belong to Jack Hayes, General Hayes' son. They called him Mr. +Jack or Mr. Hayes when freedom come. Mr. Jack sent him to Como, +Mississippi to work and to Duncan, Arkansas to work his land. I was +fifteen years old when we come to Arkansas. Mr. Walker Hayes that was +president of the Commercial Appeal over at Memphis lost his land. We +been from place to place over Arkansas since then. Mr. Walker was +General Hayes' grandson. We worked field hands till then, we do anything +since. I nursed some for Mr. Charles Williams in Memphis. I have done +house work. I got two children. My son got one leg off. I live with him. +This little gran'boy is the most pleasure to us all.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never did interfere with us. They never come to our house. +I have seen them.</p> + +<p>"When papa come from war it was all over. We knowed it was freedom. +Everybody was in a stir and talking and going somewhere. He had got his +fill of freedom in the war. He said turn us all out to freeze and +starve. He stayed with the Hayes till he died and mama died and all of +us scattered out when Mr. Walker Hayes lost his land.</p> + +<p>"Ladies used to be too fine to be voting. I'm too old now. My men-folks +said they voted. They come home and say how they voted all I know about +voting.</p> + +<p>"Walker Avenue in Memphis is named for Mr. Walker Hayes and Macremore +was named for him or by him one.</p> + +<p>"We never was give a thing at freedom but papa was buying a place from +his master and got in debt and sold it. I don't own a home.</p> + +<p>"I have high blood pressure and the Welfare gives me $8 a month. I'm not +able to work. When you been used to a good plenty it is mighty bad to +get mighty near helpless."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RassberrySenia"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Senia Rassberry<br> + 810 Catalpa Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I know what I hear em say. Well, in slavery times I helped make +the soldiers' clothes.</p> + +<p>"I was born on the old Jack Hall place on the Arkansas River in +Jefferson County.</p> + +<p>"I know I was 'leven years old when peace declared. I reckon I can +member fore the War started. I know I was bastin' them coats and pants.</p> + +<p>"My old master's name was Jack Hall and old mistress' name was +Priscilla. Oh, yes'm, they was good to me—just as good to me as they +could be. But ever' once in awhile they'd call me and say, 'Senia.' I'd +say, 'What you want?' They say, 'Wasn't you out there doin' so and so?' +I'd say, 'No.' They say, 'Now, you're tellin' a lie' and they'd whip me.</p> + +<p>"I was the house girl, me and my sister. My mammy was the cook.</p> + +<p>"Old master had two plantations. Sometimes he had a overseer and +sometimes he didn't.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they had plenty to eat, hog meat and cracklin' bread. Yes ma'am. I +loved that, I reckon. I et so much of it then I don't hardly ever want +it now. They had so much to eat. Blackberry cobbler? Oh Lawd.</p> + +<p>"How many brothers and sisters? Me? My dear, I don't know how many I had +but I heard my mother say that all the chillun she did have, that she +had 'leven chillun.</p> + +<p>"Our white folks took us to Texas durin' of the War. I think my old +master said we stayed there three years. My mother died there with a +congestive chill.</p> + +<p>"We come back here to Arkansas after freedom and I think my father +worked for Jack Hall three or four years. He wouldn't let him leave. He +raised my father and thought so much of him. He worked on the shares.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I went to school. I learnt to read and write but I just +wouldn't <u>do</u> it. I learnt the other chillun though. I did +<u>that</u>. I was into ever'thing. I learnt them that what I could do. +Blue Back? Them's the very ones I studied.</p> + +<p>"In slavery times I had to rise as early as I could. Old master would +give me any little thing around the house that I wanted. They said he +was too old to go to war. Some of the hands run off but I didn't know +where they went to.</p> + +<p>"Some of the people was better off slaves than they was free. I don't +study bout things now but sometimes seems like all them things comes +before me.</p> + +<p>"I used to hear em talkin' bout old Jeff Davis. I didn't know what they +was talkin' bout but I heered em.</p> + +<p>"I was sixteen when I married and I had eleven chillun. All dead but +four.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I been treated good all my life by white and black. All of em +loved me seemed like.</p> + +<p>"I been livin' in Arkansas all my life. I never have worked in the +field. I always worked in the house. I always was a seamstress—made +pants for the men on the place.</p> + +<p>"After I come here to Pine Bluff I worked for the white folks. Used to +cook and wash and iron. Done a lot of work. I <u>did</u> that.</p> + +<p>"I been blind 'leven years but I thank the Lord I been here that long. +Glory to Jesus! Oh, Lord have mercy! Glory, glory, glory to Jesus!"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReavesClay"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Clay Reaves, (light mulatto, large man)<br> + Palestine, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I will be eighty years old my next birthday. It will be July 6th. +Father was bought from Kentucky. I couldn't tell you about him. He +stayed on the Reaves place that year, the year of the surrender, and +left. He didn't live with mother ever again. I never did hear no reason. +He went on Joe Night's farm. He left me and a sister older but there was +one dead between us. Mother raised us. She stayed on with the Reaves two +years after he left. The last year she was there she hired to them. The +only thing she ever done before freedom was cook and weave. She had her +loom in the kitchen. It was a great big kitchen built off from the house +and a portico joined it to the house. I used to lay up under her loom. +It was warm there in winter time. I was the baby. I heard mother say +some things I remember well.</p> + +<p>"She said she was never sold. She said the Reaves said her children need +never worry, they would never be sold. We was Reaves from back yonder. +Mother's grandfather was a white man. She was a Reaves and her children +are mostly Reaves. She was light. Father was about, might be a little +darker than I am (mulatto). At times she worked in the field, but in +rush time. She wove all the clothes on the place. She worked at the loom +and I lay up under there all day long. Mother had three girls and five +boys.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Reaves, we called him master, had two boys in the army. He was a +real old man. He may have had more than two but I know there was two +gone off. The white folks lived in sight of the quarters. Their house +was a big house and painted white. I've been in there. I never seen no +grand parents of mine that I was allowed to claim kin with.</p> + +<p>"When I got up some size I was allowed to go see father. I went over to +see him sometimes. After freedom he went to where his brothers lived. +They wanted him to change his name from Reaves to Cox and he did. He +changed it from James Reaves to James Cox. But I couldn't tell you if at +one time they belong to Cox in Kentucky or if they belong to Cox in +Tennessee or if they took on a name they liked.</p> + +<p>"I kept my name Reaves. I am a Reaves from start to finish. I was raised +by mother and she was a Reaves. Her name was Olive Reaves. Her old +mistress' name was Charlotte Reaves, old master was Edmond Reaves. Now +the boys I come to know was John, Bob; girls, Mary and Jane. There was +older children. Mother was a sensible, obedient woman. Nobody ever +treated her very wrong. She was the only one ever chastised me. They +spoiled me. We got plenty plain rations. I never seen nobody married +till after the surrender. I seen one woman chastised. I wasn't close. I +never learned what it was about. Old Master Reaves was laying it on.</p> + +<p>"Mother moved to New Castle, Tennessee from Mr. Reaves' place. We +farmed—three of us. We had been living southeast of Boliver, Tennessee, +in Hardeman County. I think my kin folks are all dead. Father's other +children may be over in Tennessee now. Yes, I know them. Mother died +over at Palestine with me. She always lived with me. I married twice, +had one child by each wife. Both wives are dead and my children are +dead.</p> + +<p>"Mother said I had three older brothers went to the Civil War and never +come back home. She never heard from them after they went off. I don't +know but it was my understanding that they was to be soldiers. I don't +recollect them.</p> + +<p>"Mother got so she wasn't able to work in the field several years before +she died. She worked in the field long as she was able. She lived with +me all my whole life till she died. But I farmed. Some years we done +well and some years we jess could live. I farmed all my life but a few +years. I love farm life. It is independent living. I mean you are about +your own man out there. I work my garden out at my shop now. I make +baskets and bottom chairs at Palestine. A few years I kept Mrs. +Wilkerson's yard and garden. Her husband died and she moved off to +Memphis. They did live at Palestine.</p> + +<p>"I heard it said that Reaves said he could keep his own farm. The Ku +Klux never bothered us. I have heard a lot of things but I am telling +you what I know. I don't know nothing about the Civil War nor the Ku +Klux. I was most too small a boy at that time to know much.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote. Can't write my name. Don't fool with it.</p> + +<p>"I went to school on rainy days. I went a few other days. People used to +have to work. I always wanted to work. I piddle around all the time +working now. I went to colored teachers all together. I can read a +little.</p> + +<p>"I had a brother-in-law in Arkansas. I heard a lot of talk. I come on a +visit and stayed three months. I went back and moved here. I come to +this State—over at Palestine—March 11, 1883 on Sunday. I have a good +recollection, or I think I have for my age. I've lived a pretty sensible +life, worked hard but had good health. If I had another life to live now +I would go to the farm. I love farm life.</p> + +<p>"I chop wood, garden, go in the woods get my splints for baskets, +chairs. I live by myself. I eat out some with I call them kin. They are +my sister's children. I get some help, $10 and commodities.</p> + +<p>"When I did vote I voted Republican or I thought I did. But now if I did +vote, I might change up. Times have changed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about the young generation. I do talk with +them—some. They are coming up in a changed time. I wouldn't talk +against the colored race of people. Some of them work—are good. Some +don't. I think some will not work. Maybe they would. I come to know +mighty little about them—no more than I know about the white girls and +boys. I see them on the streets about as much as I ever see colored +folks anywhere."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReeceJane"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Jane Reece<br> + 819 W. Ninth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I know this—I'm 85. I was born in North Carolina.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes'm, I 'member the War.</p> + +<p>"I'm three thousand miles from my home.</p> + +<p>"Old John Blue (Belew?) was my white folks.</p> + +<p>"I did have good white folks. Yes ma'am, I'll say that. Stayed there a +long time after we was sot free. They was good to us.</p> + +<p>"My mother was the mother of twelve chillun—she was a fast breeder.</p> + +<p>"I was the onliest girl and old missis was just wild about me. I had +good owners. I don't remember no hard treatment among 'em.</p> + +<p>"I 'member she used to have me runnin' from house to house totin' a +little note. That's the reason I had such a good time. Heap of times I +slept up at the big house with old missis.</p> + +<p>"I got a good memory. We was allowed to sing and pray. I know our white +folks was good that way. I'll say that for 'em. I won't go back on 'em.</p> + +<p>"Our folks stayed right on there a long time.</p> + +<p>"My father died three years after ever'thing had done got quiet and +peaceful.</p> + +<p>"I left my husband back there and come here to Arkansas with my mother.</p> + +<p>"The bigges' work I done—I used to be terrible 'bout cookin', washin' +and ironin', and field work. Ever'thing a man ever done I've done—cut +wood, cut down sprouts, barn brush—I've done ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I went to school a whole lot. Got so I could read. Used to +write too, but all that done left me.</p> + +<p>"I'm gwine tell you the truth, lady. I don't know whether the folks is +better off free or not. They is better off in one way—they is free—but +this young race is the devil."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReedFrank"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Frank Reed,<br> + 1004 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was a little boy pickin' up chips and helpin' feed the hog in slavery +times for old master. Name was George Houston. That was in Alabama.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do remember George Houston. As far as I know he was good to +us. I remember when he died.</p> + +<p>"Our people stayed right there after freedom. My mother was a Houston +till she married.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I do remember the paddyrollers. I remember the hounds runnin' +too. I never thought I would remember that no more.</p> + +<p>"They didn't get after me 'cause I was too little. It didn't last long +enough for 'em to get after me.</p> + +<p>"I'm sick and not able to help myself. I got run over by a wagon.</p> + +<p>"I'm livin' here with my daughter. Her husband is a preacher and they +got eight children, so you can imagine how much they can do for me.</p> + +<p>"One word of the white folks is worth a thousand of ours."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ReevesJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: James Reeves<br> + 2419 W. Twentieth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68<br> +Occupation: Preacher</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1870 down in Ouachita County about fourteen miles south +of Camden going on toward El Dorado. They didn't have no railroad then. +I was a young man when they put the branch through. You see, I was born +five years after slavery, but I remember my mother, my grandmother, and +my great-grandmother. They taken me and talked to me freely and I know +everything they knew.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Great-Grandmother on Mother's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My great-grandmother belonged to the Goodmans. Her master was named Bob +Goodman. She lived to get one hundred thirteen years old. From the +children of the old master, I got the information concerning her age. I +looked it up after emancipation. One of old master's sons was named +Frank Goodman, and another was named Norphleet Goodman, and there was +another whose name I don't recall.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother, great-grandmother, was named Frankie Goodman. I wasn't +here in slavery time, but I knew her after emancipation.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Grandmother on Mother's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My grandmother was named Hannah Goodman. These were different Goodmans +but they were kin to these others. There was a large family of them. I +don't know the correct age of my grandmother but she was up in the +eighties when she died.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Mother</b></p> + +<p>"My mother was born a Goodman, but she married Reeves, my father. The +record of their marriage I ain't got. Back there, they didn't keep up +like you and I do, and we don't keep up like these younger folks do. +Near as I could get it, she lived to be about seventy-one years old.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Father</b></p> + +<p>"My father was named Adam Reeves. His master was named Rick Reeves. My +father was born in Union County about ten miles from El Dorado. You +might say north of El Dorado because he lived south of Camden. He lived +there all his life. I have known him to move out of Ouachita County into +Union, and from Union back to Ouachita.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Grandfather on Mother's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My grandfather on my mother's aide was Henry Goodman. His mistress was +a woman by the name of Lucy Goodman. She was the same woman who owned my +mother. There was a big family of them Goodmans.</p> + +<p>"His age—he lived to be about eighty years old. He died in Hot Spring +County.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Grandmother on Father's Side</b></p> + +<p>"My grandmother on my father's side was named Hetty. Her master was +named Sam Abbott. She lived right close to seventy-four or seventy-five +years. She been gone quite a while now. She used to live with papa.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Other Ancestors</b></p> + +<p>"I don't know so much about another of my ancestors.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Wife</b></p> + +<p>"My wife didn't have many people. She knows her mother, her mother's +mistress, and all. Her ma was named Martha Henson. That was her married +name. Her mistress' last name was Stribling. Martha Henson was a +well-treated slave. The Striblings lived in Rockport, Arkansas, but +their native home was Georgia. I don't know where the Striblings are +now. The old man died before the Civil War broke out. I guess they are +all dead and in torment. My wife's grandmother and grandfather on her +mother's side were gone so far back that neither she nor I know anything +about them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Whippings</b></p> + +<p>"My great-grandmother on my mother's side was in Union County when I +knew anything of her—close to El Dorado. I was about twenty-two years +old when she died. She was tall and spare built, dark ginger cake color. +Coarse straight black hair that had begun to mingle with gray. She never +did get real gray, and her hair was never white. Even when she died, at +a hundred and thirteen years, her hair was mostly black mingled with +gray.</p> + +<p>"The overseer knocked her in the head in slavery times, and they had to +put a silver half-dollar in her head to hold her brains in. I have seen +the place myself. When I was a little fellow she used to let me feel the +place and she would say, 'That's where the overseer knocked granny in +the head, son. I got a half-dollar in there.' I would put her hair +aside—my but she had beautiful hair!--and look at the place.</p> + +<p>"My wife could tell you what my mother told her. She has seen the marks +on my mother's back and has asked, 'Mama, what's all these marks on your +back?' And mama would say, 'That's where I was whipped in slavery times, +daughter.' She never did like to tell the details. But the scars were +awful.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother was roughly treated and she had pretty near lost her +eyesight from the ill treatment. She got so before she died that she +could hardly see to go nowhere. I don't know what it was they done to +her that made her eyesight bad, but she insisted that it was due to bad +treatment in slavery time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard that the pateroles used to run the slaves if they didn't +have a pass from their mistress and master. The pateroles would run them +and catch them and whip them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"All my mother knew was that it got out that the Negroes were free. The +day before the old woman told them that they were free, my grandfather, +Henry Goodman who was a teamster, old mis' called him and told him to +tell all the darkies to come up to the house the next day.</p> + +<p>"Next morning, she said, 'Henry, you forgot what I told you. I want you +to call all the darkies up here this morning.' Henry had a voice like a +fog-horn. He started hollering. I wish I could holler the way he did, +but I got to consider the neighbors. He hollered. 'Tention, 'tention, +hey; Miss Lucy says she wants you all up to the big house this morning. +She's got somepin to tell you.'</p> + +<p>"They all come up to the yard before the house. When they got there, she +says to him—not to them; she wouldn't talk to them that morning; maybe +she was too full—'Henry, you all just as free now as I am. You can stay +here with Miss Lucy or you can go to work with whomsoever you will. You +don't belong to Miss Lucy no more.'</p> + +<p>"She had been sick for quite a bit, and she was just able to come to the +door and deliver that message. Three weeks after that time, they brought +her out of the house feet foremost and took her to the cemetery. The +news killed her dead. That's been seventy years ago, and they just now +picking up on it!</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Time Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"The old people say they used to have breakdowns in slave +time—breakdown dances with fiddle and banjo music. Far after slavery, +they had them. The only other amusement worth speaking about was the +churches. Far as the churches was concerned, they had to steal out and +go to them. Old man Balm Whitlow can tell you all about the way they +held church. They would slip off in the woods and carry a gang of +darkies down, and the next morning old master would whip them for it. +Next Sunday they would do the same thing again and get another whipping. +And it went on like that every week. When old man Whitlow came out from +slavery, he continued to preach. But the darkies didn't have to steal +out then. He's dead now, him and the old lady both.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Houses</b></p> + +<p>"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them would be hewed and put +up well. I have seen lots of them. Sometimes they would dob the cracks +with mud and would have box planks floors, one by eight or one by ten, +rough lumber, not dressed. Set 'em as close together as they could but +then there would be cracks in them. I can carry you to some old log +houses down in Union County now if they haven't been torn down recently.</p> + +<p>"One old log house there used to be old lady Lucy Goodman's home. It has +four rooms. It has a hall running through it. It was built in slave +times. There is a spring about two hundred yards from it. That is about +ten or twelve feet deep. There is a big cypress tree trunk hollowed out +and sunk down in it to make a curbing. That cypress is about two or +three feet across. The old man, Henry Goodman, sunk that cypress down in +there in slavery time. He drove an ox team all the time. That is all the +work he done. She would tell all the overseers, 'Now, don't you fool +with Henry because we ain't never whipped him ourselves.'</p> + +<p>"I don't know who it is that is living now. It's been fifty years ago +since I was there.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"Right after freedom, when the surrender came, my mother was just a girl +'bout fifteen or sixteen. She married after freedom. Her and her husband +farmed for a living—you know, sharecropped.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux and the pateroles were the same thing, only the Klan was +more up to date. It's all set up with a hellish principle. It's old +Pharaoh exactly.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux Klan didn't have no particular effect on the Negro except +to scare him.</p> + +<p>"When the emancipation came about, the people of the South went to work +to see what they could do about it. The whole South was under martial +law. Some of the people formed the Ku Klux Klan to keep the Negro down. +I never remember that they bothered any of our family or the people in +our house. But they scared some and whipped more, and killed some.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Political Trouble about 1888</b></p> + +<p>"The darkies and the white folks in Union County had an insurrection +over the polls about the year 1888. In them days, when you wanted to put +a Republican man in, you didn't have to do much campaigning. They just +went to the polls and put him in. Everybody that could vote was +Republican. In the fall of 1888 they had a great trouble down there, and +some of them got killed. They went around and commanded the Negroes not +to go to the polls the next day. Some of the Negroes would tell them, +'Well, I am going to the polls tomorrow if I have to crawl.' And then +some of them would say, 'I'd like to know how you goin' to vote.' The +nigger would ask right back, 'How you goin' to vote?' The white man +would say, 'I'm goin' to vote as I damn please.' Then the nigger would +say, 'I'm going to do the same thing.' That started the trouble.</p> + +<p>"On Sunday before the election on Monday, they went around through that +county in gangs. They shot some few of the Negroes. As the Negroes +didn't have no weapons to protect theirselves, they didn't have no +chance. In that way, quite a few of the Negroes disbanded their homes +and went into different counties and different portions of the state and +different states. Henry Goodman, my grandfather, came into Hot Spring +County in this way.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"Roosevelt has got himself in a predicament. They are drunk and don't +know what to do. The whole world is stirred up over why one-fourth of +the world should rule the other three-fourths. One-fourth of the world +is white. The Bible says a house divided can't stand. The people don't +know what to do. Look how they fight the Wage Hour Bill. Look at the +excitement they raised when it was first suggested that the Union and +Confederate veterans meet together.</p> + +<p>"We were savages when we came over here. Everything we got and +everything we know, good and bad, we got from the white folks. Don't +know how they can get impatient with us when everything we do they +learnt us.</p> + +<p>"Roosevelt has done more than any Democrat that has ever been in the +Chair. He had to do something to keep down a rebellion. Then we like to +had one as it is through the labor question.</p> + +<p>"The poor white man always has been in a tight [HW: place]. He was +almost as much oppressed as the Negro.</p> + +<p>"The young people of today ain't got no sense. They don't give no +thought to nothing. They don't know how to think at all. All the schools +and education they give don't make them think. If I had as much +education as they have, I would be able to accomplish something. The +teachers don't press down on them and make them know what they go over. +There is a whole lot of things happening now.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Old People in Pulaski County</b></p> + +<p>"Out in Pulaski County, going west out the Nineteenth Street Pike till +you strike the Saline County line, there are quite a few old colored +people. I guess you would find no leas than twenty-five or thirty out +that way. There is one old man named Junius Peterson out that way who +used to run a mill. If you find him, he is very old and has a good +memory. He is a mulatto. You could get out to him by going down till you +come to a place that is called the Henderson Lane. You turn to the right +and go off the pike less than a mile and you come to a big one-story +house settin' on a hill where Peterson lives. Right on beyond that about +three-fourths of a mile on the right side of the road, you come to +George Gregory's. The mother of my church is about eighty-one years old +but she is over in Saline County. Her name is Jane Joyner.</p> + +<p>"There are quite a few old persons around Woodson that can give you +information. But that is in Saline County, I think. Sweet Home, +Wrightsville, Toltec—all of them have a few old colored persons on the +farm that was here in slavery times."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Reeves' story was taken because of his clear memories of his parents and +grandparents. He described to me an old log house still standing in +Union County.</p> + +<p>I got all agog with excitement. I asked him for the exact location. He +gave it. Then I suggested that maybe he would go down with me sometime +to visit it. He agreed. Then at the last moment caution began to assert +itself, and I said, "When was the last time you saw the cabin?"</p> + +<p>He reflected a moment; then he said, "Waal, I guess it was a little more +'an fifty years ago."</p> + +<p>I lost my enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>Reeves told the Phill-la-me-york story which was told by Austin Pen +Parnell. You will find it in his story. The only difference between his +story and Parnell's is that Reeves had the conclusion. He claimed that +the old master got in a fight with one of the slaves present and yelled +out his identity when he was getting badly beaten. The story sounds like +it came from the Arkansas folklore collection or from someone who +contributed it to that collection.</p> + +<p>An aftermath of Reeves' story is finding out that most people consider +Henry Banner, whose story has been previously given and whose age was +given as eighty-nine, is considered by many persons to be ninety-four.</p> + +<p>Neely, one of the adult school-teachers, says that he has gone over +Banner's life carefully with him, and that he must have been twenty-one +or twenty-two at the close of the War because during slavery, he had +experience at logging, or rather at logrolling, a work so difficult that +only full-grown men were used at it. Since Banner is slightly built, +there is scarcely a possibility that he did such work before the normal +time.</p> + +<p>[HW: Cf. 30715 for interview with Parnell.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RhoneShepherd"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person Interviewed: Shepherd Rhone<br> + 10th and Kentucky<br> + Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 75</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, I was bred and born in 'sixty-three in Phillips County, +Arkansas, close to Helena, on old Judge Jones' plantation. Judge Jones, +he was a lawyer. Remember him? I ought to, he whiped me enough. His +wife's name was Caroline Jones. She used to smack my jaws and pull my +ears but she was a pretty good woman. The old judge was a raw one +though. You had to step around or he'd step around for you.</p> + +<p>"I stayed right there till I was grown. My mother was named Katie Rhone +and my father was named Daniel Rhone. My mother was born in Richmond, +Virginia and my father in Petersburg, Virginia.</p> + +<p>"Judge Jones brought em here to Arkansas. My father was a bodyguard for +old Judge Jones' son Tom in the War. My father stuck with him till peace +declared—had to do it.</p> + +<p>"They was thirteen of us chillun and they is all gone but me, and I'll +soon be gone.</p> + +<p>"I know when the Yankees come I run from em. When peace declared, the +Yankees come all through our house and took everything they could get +hold of to eat.</p> + +<p>"The only reason the Yankees whipped the South was they starved em.</p> + +<p>"I know one time when peace declared I caught afire and I run and jumped +in a tub of water and I had sense enough not to tell my mother. A girl I +was raised up with went and told her though.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I worked for old Judge Jones on the half system. He give +me everthing that was due me. When he was eighty years old, he called +all his old tenants up and give em a mule and twenty-five dollars. He +was pretty good to em after all.</p> + +<p>"I went to free school in the summertime after the crops was laid by, I +can read and write pretty good.</p> + +<p>"I came here to Jefferson County in 'eighty-six and I put in thirty-six +years at the Cotton Belt Shops. When that strike come on they told us +colored folks to quit and I never went back. I worked for em when she +was a narrow gauge.</p> + +<p>"I worked in the North three years. I nightwatched all over St. Louis +and Madison, Illinois. I liked it fine up there—white folks is more +familiar up there and seems like you can get favors. If I don't get +somethin' here, I'm goin' back up there.</p> + +<p>"When I got big enough I voted the Republican ticket and after they got +this primary. I think the colored people ought to vote now cause they +make em pay taxes.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you right now, the younger generation is goin' to the dogs. +We'll never make a nation of em as long as they go out to these places +at night. They ought to be a law passed. When nine o'clock comes they +ought to be home in bed, but they is just gettin' started then.</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Catholic Church. I think it's a pretty good church. We +have a white priest and I'll tell you one thing thing—you can't get a +divorce and marry again and stay in the Catholic Church."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RichardDora"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Dora Richard<br> + 3301 W. 14th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in South Carolina and I was my mother's baby chile.</p> + +<p>"Jacob Foster was our old master and he sold my mother over in east +Tennessee. Now of cose she wasn't put upon the block and sold. She was +the house woman and spin and wove. After they sold her my father run +off. Oh sure, they caught him and I know old mistress said, 'Now, Jacob, +if you want to go where Lydia is, you can go.' So they sold him near +her.</p> + +<p>"I stayed with the Fosters till peace was declared and ever'thing was +declared free. Then my father come after me.</p> + +<p>"I can just sketch things. I try to forget it. My mother and father was +pretty agreeable when they was set free.</p> + +<p>"In Tennessee we stayed at the foot of Lookout Mountain and I can +remember seein' the cannon balls.</p> + +<p>"Here's the way I want to tell you. Some of the white people are as good +to the colored people as they could be and some of em are mean. My own +folks do so bad I'm ashamed of em.</p> + +<p>"So many of the colored of the South have emigrated to the North. I have +lived there and I don't know why I'm here now.</p> + +<p>"Some of my color don't like that about the Jim Crow Law, but I say if +they furnish us a nice comfortable coach I would rather be with my own +people. And I don't care to go to the white folks' church.</p> + +<p>"My mother used to tell me how they used to hide behind trees so the +boss man couldn't see em when they was prayin' and at night put out the +light and turn the pot down.</p> + +<p>"I went to school in Tennessee. I never will forget it. I had a white +teacher. He was in the War and he had a leg shot off. I went through the +sixth grade and was ready for the seventh Ray's Arithmetic. I walked +four miles there and four miles back—eight miles a day.</p> + +<p>"I can remember too when my mother and father was baptized. I know mama +come out of the water a shoutin'. Oh, that was good times then. I felt +better when I was under my mother cause when I married my life was over. +I raised about ten children.</p> + +<p>"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my sister's house lookin' for her +husband. I know I was in the bed and I raised up. I was scared you know.</p> + +<p>"When I hear some colored folks say they wish the old slavery times was +back, I just knows they is lazy. They don't want any responsibility."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RicksJim"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Jim Ricks<br> + 517 E. 22nd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in slavery times. I 'member runnin' from the Yankees when +they wanted to carry me off. Just devilin' me, you know. You know how +little chillun was 'bout white folks in them days.</p> + +<p>"I went to school three weeks and my daddy stopped me and put me to +work.</p> + +<p>"Old master was named Jimmie Ricks. They named me after him, I think.</p> + +<p>"My mother said he was a mighty good master. Didn't 'low his niggers +whipped.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I was born and raised in Arkansas, down here in Calhoun County.</p> + +<p>"I had a chance to learn but I was a rowdy. I wanted to hunt. I was a +mighty huntsman.</p> + +<p>"I was a good worker too. White folks was all stuck on me 'cause I was a +good worker.</p> + +<p>"I did farm work and then did public work after the crops was laid by. +But now I got too old to work.</p> + +<p>"I seen the Ku Klux once or twice when they was Ku Klukin' around. Some +of 'em would holler 'Kluk, kluk, kluk.' I was quite small, but I could +remember 'am 'cause I was scared of 'em.</p> + +<p>"I farmed all my life till year before last. I was a good farmer too.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote years ago. I voted Republican. Yes ma'am.</p> + +<p>"Younger generation ain't near like they was when I was young. I was +well thought of. Couldn't be out after sundown or they'd bump my head. +My stepfather would give me a flailin'. I thought he was mean to me but +I see now he done right by whippin' me.</p> + +<p>"I know in slavery times they got plenty of somethin' to eat. Old master +fed us well."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RiggerCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Charlie Rigger<br> + R.F.D., three miles, Palestine, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85 plus, doesn't know age</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born six miles from Mounticellar close to the line of Morgan and +Jasper County. Mother belong to the Smiths. Her father was part Creek +(Indian). They all was sold to Floyd Malone. His wife was Betsy Malone. +They had five children.</p> + +<p>"When I was a child I lay under the loom day after day picking up the +sickle. Ma was a cook and a weaver too.</p> + +<p>"Malone was a good man but his wife was one of 'em. She was a terrible +piece of humanity. Father was a farm hand. They had a gin, a shoe shop, +and a blacksmith shop all on Floyd Malone's place. I picked a little +cotton before 'mancipation. Floyd Malone had to buy my mother to git her +where my father was.</p> + +<p>"Some of the boys wore dresses till they was twelve or fifteen years +old. One fellar rode a mule or cow one the other to preaching. While he +sit talking to his gal at the window a steer cone up and et off his +dress tail. Boys got to courting before they got to take off their long +shirts.</p> + +<p>"They wasn't so good to mother. She run off several times. She went +'bout one and one-half miles to her mother on the Compton place. They +didn't whoop her. They promised her a whooping. They whooped her and me +too but I never knowed 'em to whoop my father. When they whoop my mother +I'd run off to place we lived and crawl under the house.</p> + +<p>"We chillun had nothing to do wid coffee. We drunk milk out little +bowls. We'd turn it up or lap it out which one could do the best. They +fed us. We'd ask for more till we got filled up.</p> + +<p>"I recollect the soldiers come by in July 1863 or 1864 and back in +December. I heard talk so long 'fore they got there I knowed who they +was. They took my oldest brother. He didn't want to go. We never heard +from him. He never come back. My white master hid out. He didn't go to +war. One son went and come back. It was the Yankees made my oldest +brother go. The first crowd in July swapped their wore-out scrub stock +for our good stock. That second crowd cleaned them out, took our hogs. +Miss Betty had died 'fore they come in July. That second crowd come in +December. They cleaned out everything to eat and wear. They set the +house 'fire several times with paper and coal oil (kerosene). It went +out every time. One told the captain. He come up behind. It went out +every time. He said, 'Let's move on.' They left it clean and bare. We +didn't like them. We had meat hid in the cellar. We got hungry that +spring sure as you born.</p> + +<p>"The old man married pretty soon after freedom. He married young to what +he was.</p> + +<p>"I didn't find much fault to slavery 'cepting the abuse. We et three +times a day and now if I get one piece I do well. Mother cooked, washed, +ironed and spun four cuts a day. We all et at the master's kitchen three +times a day. We had thirty-two families. I've heard that ag'in time and +ag'in so as I recollect it till now. We didn't have to work no harder +'en we do now if you have a living.</p> + +<p>"Master waited till all there. He had a horn made sorter like a bugle +for that business. Called us to our meals. We stayed a year. Went to his +brother's one year, then to Major Lane's big farm. We had to work about +the same as b'fore freedom. Not much change.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux come 'round right smart. Some had on skin coverings, cow +heads and horns. Some wore white sheets and black dresses on white +horses. They was scary looking. They would whoop and kill too. I was too +scared to get caught off at night.</p> + +<p>"Mother died. I was traveling about. I spent thirteen months in +Mississippi. Three winters right in Memphis. I married in Mississippi. I +left two daughters in Georgia. My wife died. I come to Arkansas in 1902. +I live all alone.</p> + +<p>"This present generation is traveling too fast. It-is-to-be. Fast +traveling and education. Times not good as it always have been b'fore +that last war (World War). When the white folks start jowing we black +folks suffers. It ain't a bit our fault. Education causes the black man +to see he is bit (cheated) but he better not say a word. It very good +thing if it is used right. Fast traveling is all right in its place. But +too many is traveling and they all want to be going. We got into pretty +fast time of it now. It-is-to-be and it's getting shoved on faster."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RigleyIda"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Ida Rigley, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Richmond, Virginia. Colonel Radford and Emma Radford +owned my mother. They had a older girl, Emma and Betty and three boys. I +called her Miss Betty.</p> + +<p>"My mother was Sylvia Jones and she had five children. Bill Jones was my +father. He was a born free man and a blacksmith at Lynchburg, Virginia +in slavery times.</p> + +<p>"He asked Colonel Radford could he come to see my mama and marry her. +They had a wedding in Colonel Radford's dining room and a preacher on +the place married them. They told me. My father was a Presbyterian +preacher. I heard papa preach at Lynchburg. He had a white principle but +no white blood. I never knew him very much till long after freedom.</p> + +<p>"Miss Betty Radford was raising me for a house girl. I was younger than +her children. Mother was a weaver for all on the place. Old aunt +Caroline was the regular cook but my mother helped to cook for hands he +hired at busy seasons of the year. My sisters lived in the quarters and +mama slept with them. She helped them. They worked in the field some. +They was careful not to overwork young hands. They cooked down at the +quarters. They had a real old man and woman to set about and see after +the children and feed them. The older children looked after the babies. +When Miss Betty went off visiting she would send me down there. I did +love it.</p> + +<p>"Emma and Betty went to school at Richmond in a buggy. They had a +colored boy driver. He was the carriage driver. Emma and Betty would +play with me too. Miss Betty fed me all the time. She made me a bonnet +and I can't get shed of my bonnet yet. I got four bonnets now.</p> + +<p>"When the white folks had a wedding it lasted a week. They had a second +day dress and a third day dress and had suppers and dinner receptions +about among the kin folks. They had big chests full of quilts and +coverlets and counterpanes they been packing back. Some of them would +have big dances. A wedding would last a week, night and day.</p> + +<p>"They had a farm right. We had peacocks, white guinea and big black +turkeys, cows, sheep, goats, hogs; he had deer. He kept their horns cut +off and some of the cow's horns were off. We had a acre in a garden and +had roses and all kinds of flowers. I like flowers now. Tries to have +'em. They had a gin on the place. He raised corn, rye, cotton, and +tobacco. The hands got their supplies on Saturday. On rainy days all the +women would knit, white and colored both. Miss Betty knitted some at +night in winter. They had a shop to sharpen and keep all the tools in. A +particular old man made the brooms and rakes.</p> + +<p>"It seem like there wasn't so many flies. Miss Betty mixed up molasses +and flour and poison and killed flies sometimes. She spread it on brown +paper. We had fly weed tea to set about too sometimes. We didn't have to +use anything regular. We didn't have no screens. We had mighty few +mosquitoes. We had peafowl fly brushes. They was mighty pretty.</p> + +<p>"One thing we had was a deep walled well and an ice-house. They cut ice +in blocks and put it up for winter[HW:?]. We had one spring on the place +I know.</p> + +<p>"They kept hounds. Colonel Radford's boys and the colored boys all went +hunting. We had 'possum and potatoes all along in winter; 'possum grease +won't make you sick. Eat all you want. I'd hear their horn and the dogs. +They would come in hungry every time. I never seen no whiskey. He had +his cider and vinegar press and made wine. We had cider and wine all +along. Colonel Radford was his own overseer and Charlie his oldest boy. +They whooped mighty little. They would stand up and be whooped. Some of +the young ones was hard-headed and rude. He advised them and they minded +him pretty well.</p> + +<p>"Our yards was large and beautiful; some had grass and some clean spots +about in the shade. Friday was wash day. Saturday was iron day. Miss +Betty would go about in the quarters to see if the houses was scrubbed +every week after washing. They had to wear clean clothes and have clean +beds about her place. She'd shame them to death.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Radford had a colored church for us all. It was a log house and +he had a office for his boys to read and write and smoke cob pipes in. +The white folks' church was at the corner of his place. I went there +most. They shouted and pat their hands. Colonel Radford was a Baptist.</p> + +<p>"Nearly every farm had a fiddler. Ever so often he had a big dance in +their parlor. I'd try to dance by myself. He had his own music by the +hands on his place. He let them have dances at the quarters every now +and then. Dancing was a piece of his religion.</p> + +<p>"I don't think our everyday frocks was stiffened but our dress up +clothes was. It was made out of flour—boiled flour starch. We had +striped dresses and stockings too. We had checked dresses. We had +goobers and a chestnut grove. We had a huckleberry patch. We had maple +sugar to eat. It was good. We had popcorn and chinquapins in the fall of +the year, I used to pick up chips to use at the pot. I had a little +basket. I picked up corn cobs. They burnt them and made corn cob soda to +use in the bread and cakes. We parched peeled sweet potatoes slice thin +and made coffee.</p> + +<p>"The Civil War was terrible. One morning before we was all out of bed +the Yankees come. It was about daylight. He and the three boys were +there. They didn't burn any houses and they didn't hesitate but they +took everything. They took all Miss Betty's nice silverware. They took +fine quilts and feather beds. That was in the fall of the year. They +drove off a line of our slaves (a block long) fer as from me to that +railroad. Made them go. They walked fast in front of the cavalrymen. +They took mama and my sisters. She got away from them with her girls and +found her way back to papa at Lynchburg.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Radford went and took some of the slave men and his boys. They +brought home plenty beds and a barrel of salt. He brought back plenty. +He sent his slave man to town any time. They had no notion leaving.</p> + +<p>"One time some Yankees come. I run hid around Miss Betty's long dress. +She was crying. They was pulling her rings off her fingers. I told them +to quit that. One of the mean things said, 'Little nigger, I shoot your +head off.' They took all her nice clothes. They said they took all +niggers. I sassed them. They went in another room. I shot under Miss +Betty's big skirt. They looked about for me but they thought I run off +to my mama. She was gone but they didn't know it. I seen my best times +then. We had a good time there. Miss Betty was good and kind to me. Good +as I wanted. I wish I had that good now.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"The soldiers come and I knowed it was the Yankees I hated. They took +all they could find and wasted a lot of it. I was scared. I kept hid +about. The slaves put their beds and clothes up on the wagons and went +off behind them and some clumb up in the wagons. I heard Miss Betty say, +'They need not follow them off, they are already free.' The way she said +it, like she was heart broken, made me nearly cry and I remember her +very words till this day. She was a good woman.</p> + +<p>"Mama come and got me long time after that and I didn't want to go nor +stay neither. It was like taking me off from my own home. Papa was +freeborn and freedom I couldn't understand till I was long grown. I +never got a whooping in my life. I was taught politeness.</p> + +<p>"During slavery we bought mighty little. Flour in barrels, salt. We had +Maple sugar and sorghum molasses in bounty. We was happy and had plenty +to eat and wear.</p> + +<p>"I learned to make the fine cakes from a Jew woman (Jewess), Mrs. Isaac. +I've been called a cook here in Forrest City. I was taught by Mrs. Isaac +to make angel food, coffee cake, white bread and white cakes. From that +I made the other kinds my own self."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>People in Forrest City send for Ida and keep her a week or two baking +Christmas and wedding cakes.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RitchieMilton"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Milton Ritchie<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Marietta Hotel at Marietta, Georgia. The hotel belong to +Milton Stevens. He had two sons. One died fo I was born and Pink was in +the war. Mistress Thursday was old moster's wife. We all had to refugee. +My sister was down in the bottoms with all the slaves and cattle when +she died. She took sick and died suddenly. They heard the soldiers was +coming to Atlanta and knowed they would come by Marietta. Moster Stevens +sold the hotel just at the beginning of the war. He moved to the +country. Mama cooked at the hotel and in the country both. The hotel was +a brick house on the railroad where they fed a lot of people every day. +Moster Milton used to take me bout where he went, rode me on his foot +when I was a baby. After they went to the farm every evening Mistress +Thursday come get me, take me to the house. She got bread and butter, +sugar, give it to me and I slept on a pallet in her room. I never did +know why she done that. Mama had a little house she slept in. She +cooked. They never whooped me. They never whooped mama.</p> + +<p>"One time the Federal army camped not a great ways from us. One time I +was playing in a gully—big red ditch. I spied the Federals coming. I +flew out the ditch up the hill and across the field. They was calvary +men camped back of our field. We all left that place and refugeed to +another place. They didn't burn the house but they sent two bullets +through the walls or that house. 'Old Granny' was too old to refugee. +She kept living by herself in a house on the place. They never bothered +her. She wasn't kin to us but Moster Milton owned her and kept her fed. +We raised sugar-cane, hogs, corn, and goobers. The sugar-cane had no +top. I got a whooping every Monday. Mama whoop me. We go drink +sugar-cane juice in the trough at the mill. We got up in there with our +feet. They had to wash out the troughs. It was a wood house. It was a +big mill. He sold that good syrup in Atlanta. It wasn't sorghum. The men +at the mill would scare us but we hid around. They come up to the house +and tell on us.</p> + +<p>"We had moved from the farm when they burned Atlanta. From the place +where Moster Milton refugeed I could hear a roaring all the time nearly, +sometimes clearer, and the roaring was broke sometimes.</p> + +<p>"Moster Milton ran the farm when he run the hotel cept I was born at the +hotel and Mistress Thursday lived there then too. He had all Negro +overseers. Each overseer had a certain lot of hands to do what he told +them. He didn't have no trouble. He told them if they made something for +them and him too it would be fine, if they didn't work they would have +to do without. They had plenty they said.</p> + +<p>"My mama was sold on the block in Virginia when she was twelve years +old. She and her little brother sold the same day. Moster Milton Stevens +bought her. The same man couldn't buy them both, didn't have money +enough. They had a little blanket and she and her brother cut it into +and put it around their shoulders. They been sleeping together and +Moster Milton brought her home on his horse up behind him. Her mama was +crying when she left her. She never heard nor seen none of her folks no +more she told me. (The old Negro cried.)</p> + +<p>"My mama and papa was dark but both was mixed. They never told me if it +was white or Indian. Papa was a tall, big bony man. Mama wasn't so big +and stouter. He never tried to get away from his owners. He belong to +Sam Ritchie five or six miles away. I never beard much about them. They +had Negro overseers. Papa was a foreman. He tanned the cow hides and +made shoes for all the hands on Ritchie's place. He made our shoes over +there too. They said Stevens and Ritchies didn't keep bad dogs. Mistress +Eliza Ritchie was a Stevens before she married. Papa never was sold. He +said they was good to them. Mama was named Eliza too and papa George +Ritchie.</p> + +<p>"When freedom was on papa went to Atlanta and got transportation to +Chattanooga. I don't know why. He met me and mama. She picked me up and +run away and met him. We went in a freight box. It had been a soldier's +home—great big house. We et on the first story out of tin pans. We had +white beans or peas, crackers and coffee. Meat and wheat and cornbread +we never smelt at that place. Somebody ask him how we got there and he +showed them a ticket from the Freedmans bureau in Atlanta. He showed +that on the train every now and then. Upstairs they brought out a stack +of wool blankets and started the rows of beds. Each man took his three +as he was numbered. Every night the same one got his own blankets. The +room was full of beds and white guards with a gun over his shoulder +guarded them all night long. We stayed there a long time—nearly a year. +They tried to get jobs fast as they could and push em out but it was +slow work. Mama got a place to cook at—Mrs. Crutchfield's. She run a +hotel in town but lived in the country. We stayed there about a year. +Papa was hired somewhere else there.</p> + +<p>"Papa got us on a farm in middle Tennessee after that. We come to Mr. +Hooper's place and share cropped one year, then we went to share crop +for Wells Brothers close to Murfreesboro. I been on the farm all my life +since then.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never pestered us. I heard about them.</p> + +<p>"The Welfare helps me and I would do work if I could get work I can do. +I could do light work. Times is hard. Hard to get a living. I don't mind +work. I couldn't do a day's work now.</p> + +<p>"The young generation is beyond me. I don't be about them much."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RiversAlice"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Alice Rivers<br> + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I remember when the Yankees come. I ricollect when they throwed +out all the meat from old master's smokehouse. The colored folks was +tryin' to ketch it and I know I tried to ketch it too.</p> + +<p>"Don't I look like I been here in Reb. time? I was born in Mississippi +on Colonel Reed's place in 1857.</p> + +<p>"I just know the Yankees come through. Had on blue coats with gold +lookin' buttons. I never will forget it 'cause it was so frightening.</p> + +<p>"I can ricollect way back there.</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether the white folks was good or not, we hardly ever +saw 'em. Had a old woman that cooked for the chillun at the quarters. I +ricollect they had a big old kittle and she'd cook that full of +somethin'. I know the old lady give us plenty of somethin' to eat.</p> + +<p>"All the white folks didn't treat their hands mean. Some of 'em was a +fool 'bout them little niggers.</p> + +<p>"Old woman what cooked for the chillun was old Aunt Henie and she walked +half bent with a stick.</p> + +<p>"I went to school some after freedom. Learned how to spell and read but +not much writin'.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you 'bout no whippin's 'cause if they whipped the folks +they didn't do it at the quarters where the chillun was.</p> + +<p>"I been farmin' all my life till I come to Arkansas in 1916. Since then +I first cooked and washed. I ain't worked out in three years now.</p> + +<p>"I gets a little pension from the Welfare and I make out on that. My +granddaughter lives with me. She will finish high school in May and then +she can take care of herself.</p> + +<p>"I used to own this place but it was sold for taxes. Don't make any +difference if you is as old as Methuselah you got to pay them taxes. Old +Caeser started 'em and we've had to pay 'em ever since.</p> + +<p>"Younger generation ain't mannerly now like they was when I was young. +Chillun used to be obedient but they got to have their way now. Old +folks done put the chillun where they is now and they ought to take care +of 'em.</p> + +<p>"I don't know where the world gwine come to in the next five years. I +reckon they'll all be dead way they're gwine now. Storms takin' 'em away +here and war in them other countries."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobertsJ"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: J. Roberts, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 45 or 50<br> +Occupation: Methodist preacher</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My father was a Federal soldier in the Civil War. He was from Winston, +Virginia. He went to war and soon after the end he came to Holly Grove. +He was in Company "K". He signed up six or seven papers for men in his +company he knew and they all got their pensions. Oh yes! He knew them. +He was an awful exact honest man. He was a very young man when he went +into the war and never married till he come to Arkansas. He married a +slave woman. She was a field woman. They farmed. Father sat by the hour +and told how he endured the war. He never expected to come out alive +after a few months in the war.</p> + +<p>"John Roberts Collins was his owner in slavery. I never heard why he cut +off the Collins. I call my own self J. Roberts."</p> + +<p>"The present times are hard times. Sin hath caused it all. Machinery has +taken so much of the work."</p> + +<p>"The present generation are fair folks but wild. Yes, the young folks +today are wilder than my set was. I can't tell you how but I see it +every way I go."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobertsonGeorge"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: George Robertson? or George Robinson?<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My papa named Abe Robertson. His owner named Tom Robertson. I was born +in middle Tennessee. My mama named Isabela Brooks. Her master named +Billy Brooks. His wife name Mary Brooks. My master boys come through +here six years ago wid a tent show. My papa went off wid the Yankees. +Last I seed of him he was in Memphis. They took my mama off when I was a +baby to Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' her. My grandma raised +me. We stayed on the big plantation till 1880.</p> + +<p>"I don't want no Sociable Welfare help till I ain't able to work. I +don't want none now."</p> + +<p>(To be continued) [TR: no continuation found.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobinsonAugustus"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Augustus Robinson<br> + 2500 W. Tenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Calhoun County, Arkansas in 1860, January 15th. I am +going according to what my daddy told me and nothing else. That is all I +could do.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How the Children Were Fed</b></p> + +<p>"My grandmother on my mother's side said when I was a little fellow that +she was a cook and that she would bring stuff up to the cabin where the +little niggers were locked up and feed them through the crack. She would +hide it underneath her apron. She wasn't supposed to do it. All the +little niggers were kept in one house when the old folks were working in +the field. There were six or seven of us.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Sold</b></p> + +<p>"My daddy was a white man, my master. His wife was so mean to me that my +master sold me to keep her from beating me and kicking me and knocking +me 'round. She would have killed me if she could have got the chance. He +[HW: My daddy] sold me to a preacher who raised me as though I were his +own son. Whenever he sat down to the table to eat, I sat down. He made +no difference at all. He raised me in El Dorado, Arkansas. His name was +James Goodwin. He sent me to school too.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Visited by Father</b></p> + +<p>"When Harrison and Cleveland ran for President, my [HW: white] father +came to Little Rock. Some colored people had been killed in the campaign +fights, and he had been summoned to Little Rock to make some statements +in connection with the trouble. He stopped at a prominent hotel and had +me to come to see him. When I went up to the hotel to meet him, there +were a dozen or more white men at that place. When I shook hands with +him, he said, 'Gentlemen, he's a little shady but he's my son.' His name +was Captain I.T. Robinson. He lived in Lisbon, Arkansas.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Mother</b></p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Frances Goodwin. She belonged to Captain Robinson. +I don't know but I think that when they came to Arkansas, they came from +Georgia. They were refugees. When the War started, people that owned +niggers ran from state to state to try to hold their niggers.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>House</b></p> + +<p>"I lived right in the yard. We had four houses in the yard and three of +them was made of logs and one was made out of one-by-twelve planks. I +lived in the one made out of planks. It had one big room. I reckon it +was about twenty by fifteen, more than that, I reckon. It was a big +room. There [HW: were] two doors and no windows. We had old candlesticks +for lights. We had old homemade tables. All food was kept in the +smokehouse and the pantry. The food house and the smokehouse were two of +the log cabins in the yard.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Schooling</b></p> + +<p>"Goodwin schooled me. [TR: First sentence lined out.] He had a teacher +to come right on the place and stay there teaching. He raised me and +brought me up just as though I was his own child.</p> + +<p>"I remember getting one whipping. I didn't get it from Mr. Goodwin +though. His brother gave it to me. His brother sent me to get a horse. +An old hound was laying in the way on the saddle and the bridle. He +wouldn't move so I picked up the bridle and hit him with it. He hollered +and master's brother heard him and gave me a whipping. That is the only +whipping I ever got when I was small.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux</b></p> + +<p>"I heard of the Ku Klux Klan but I don't know that I ever seen them. I +never noticed what effect they had on the colored people. I just heard +people talking about them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Occupational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"The first work I did was farming—after the War. I farmed,—down close +to El Dorado, about six miles away from there. I kept that up till I was +about seventeen or eighteen years old or somewheres about there. That +was on James Goodwin's place—my last master, the man who raised me. +Then I left him and came to Little Rock. I don't remember in what year. +I went to school here in Little Rock. I had already had some schooling. +My grandmother sent me. The school I went to was called the Union +School. It was down on Sixth Street. After I left there, I went to +Capitol Hill School. I was going to school during the Brooks-Baxter War. +The statehouse was on Markham Street and Center. My grandmother's name +was Celie Robinson. She went by the name of her owner.</p> + +<p>"After I had gone to school several years—I don't remember just how +many—I worked down town about ten or eleven years. Then I went to +railroading. First I was with the Iron Mountain and Southern. Later, it +changed its name to the Missouri Pacific. I worked for them from 1891 to +1935. On August 29th I received my last pay check. I have tried ever +since to get my railroad pension to which my years of service entitle me +but have been unable to get it. The law concerning the pension seems to +have passed on the same day I received my last check, and although I +worked for forty-four years and gave entire satisfaction, there has been +a disposition to keep me from the pension. While in service I had my jaw +broken in two pieces and four front teeth knocked out by a piece of +flying steel.</p> + +<p>"Another man was handling the steam hammer. I was standing at my regular +place doing my regular work. When that happened, I was cut down like a +weed. There wasn't a man ever thought they would see me in that job +again after that piece of steel cut me down.</p> + +<p>"Also, I lost my right eye in the service when a hot cinder from the +furnace flew in it while I was doing my regular work. Then I was +ruptured because of the handling of heavy pieces of iron at my work. I +still wear the truss. You can see the places where my jaw was broke and +you can see where my teeth were knocked out.</p> + +<p>"Out of all the ups and downs, I stuck to the company just the same +until they retired me in 1935 because of old age. The retirement board +wanted to know when I asked for a pension, why did I think I was +entitled to a pension? I told them because I had been injured through +service with the company and had honorably finished so long a period of +service. It is now admitted that I am eligible to a railroad pension but +there seems to still be a delay in paying it for some reason or other.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Support Now</b></p> + +<p>"I get a little assistance from the Welfare, and I get some commodities. +If it wasn't for that, I would be broke up."</p> + +<p>[HW: Brooks-Baxter War was about 1872-74.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobinsonMalindy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Malindy Robinson<br> + 8th Street, West Memphis, Arkansas<br> +Age: 61</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was born in Wilkerson County, Mississippi. My ma never was sold, She +said she was eleven years old when peace was declared. Master Sims was +grandma's owner. Grandpa was never sold. He was born in Mississippi. He +was a mulatto man. He was a man worked about the house and grandma was a +field woman. She said she never was whooped but worked mighty hard. They +was good to grandma. She lived in the quarters. My parents b'long to the +same owner. But far as I ever knowed they married long after freedom. +They was raised close to Woodville, Mississippi."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RobinsonTom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person interviewed: Tom Robinson<br> +Aged: 88<br> +Home: Lives with his son on outskirts of Hot Springs</h3> +<br> + +<p>As I entered Goldstein Grade school for colored I passed an old fellow +sitting on the sidewalk. There was somthing of that venerable, +dignified, I've-been-a-slave look about him, so much of it that I almost +stopped to question him. Inside I entered a classroom, where a young +woman was in conference with a couple of sheepish youngsters who had +been kept in after school.</p> + +<p>Did she know the whereabouts of any ex-slaves? She beamed. Only the +other day an old man had appeared on the school grounds. She appealed to +her charges. Didn't they remember that she had told them about him and +about what slavery had meant. Sheepish looks were gone. They were agog +with interest. Yes 'um, they remembered. But none of the three knew his +name or where to find him.</p> + +<p>Another teacher entered the room. No, she couldn't remember the name. +But the old man often came up to watch the children at play. He said it +made him happy to see them getting opportunities he never could have +had. Wait a minute—he might be outside at this very moment. A clatter +of heels and calls of triumph. "Yes! Yes! Here he is!"</p> + +<p>Outside I dashed to <u>drop flat on the sidewalk</u>[HW:?] beside the +aged man I had passed a few minutes before. Out came my smile and a +notebook. With only a few preliminaries and amenities the interview was +in full swing. It neither startled nor confused him, to have an excited +young woman plant herself on a public sidewalk at his side and demand +his life's story. A man who had belonged to three different masters +before the age of 15 was inured to minor surprises. Tom Robinson long +since learned to take life as it came.</p> + +<p>He is quite deaf in one ear and hears poorly with the other. Nobody +within a quarter of a block could have been in doubt of what was going +on. A youth moved closer. The kept-after-school pair emerged from the +building and stood near us, goggle-eyed thruout the interview. When we +were finished, Robinson turned to the children and gave them, a +grandfatherly lecture about taking advantage of their opportunities, a +lecture in which the white woman sitting beside him joined +heartily—drawing liberally on comments of ex-slaves in recent +interviews concerning the helplessness felt in not being able to write +and read letters from well loved friends.</p> + +<p>"Where was I born, ma'am? Why it's my understanding that it was Catawba +County, North Carolina. As far as I remember, Newton was the nearest +town. I was born on a place belonging to Jacob Sigmens. I can just +barely remember my mother. I was not 11 when they sold me away from her. +I can just barely remember her.</p> + +<p>"But I do remember how she used to take us children and kneel down in +front of the fireplace and pray. She'd pray that the time would come +when everybody could worship the Lord under their own vine and fig +tree—all of them free. It's come to me lots of times since. There she +was a'praying, and on other plantations women was a'praying. All over +the country the same prayer was being prayed. Guess the Lord done heard +the prayer and answered it.</p> + +<p>"Old man Sigmens wasn't a bad master. Don't remember so much about him. +I couldn't have been 11 when he sold me to Pickney Setzer. He kept me +for a little while and then he sold me to David Robinson. All three of +them lived not so far apart in North Carolina. But pretty soon after he +bought me old men Dave Robinson moved to Texas. We was there when the +war started. We stayed there all during the war. I was set free there.</p> + +<p>"We lived in Cass County. It was pretty close to the Arkansas border, +and 'twasn't far from Oklahoma—as is now. I remember well when they was +first gathering them up for the war. We used to hear the cannon often. +Was I afraid? To be sure I was scared, right at first. Pretty soon we +got used to it. Somebody even made up a song, 'Listen to the Home-made +Thunder'. They'd sing it every time the cannon started roaring.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, there never was any fighting right around us. I never really +saw any fighting. Old man Dave Robinson was good to me. He didn't have a +big farm—just owned me. Treated me almost like I was one of his own +children. Course, I had to work. Sometimes he whipped me—but no more +than he had to. I was just a child and any child has got to be made to +mind. He was good to me, and old Miss was good to me. All my masters was +pretty good to me—lots better than the usual run. Which one I like the +best. Well, you might know. I kept the name Robinson, and I named my son +Dave. You might know which one I think the most of.</p> + +<p>"One day I was out milking the cows. Mr. Dave come down into the field, +and he had a paper in his hand. 'Listen to me, Tom,' he said, 'listen to +what I reads you.' And he read from a paper all about how I was free. +You can't tell how I felt. 'You're jokin' me.' I says. 'No, I ain't,' +says he. 'You're free.' 'No,' says I, 'it's a joke.' 'No,' says he, +'it's a law that I got to read this paper to you. Now listen while I +read it again.'</p> + +<p>"But still I wouldn't believe him. 'Just go up to the house,' says he, +'and ask Mrs. Robinson. She'll tell you.' so I went. 'It's a joke,' I +says to her. 'Did you ever know your master to tell you a lie?' she +says. 'No,' says I, 'I ain't.' 'Well,' she says, 'the war's over and +you're free.'</p> + +<p>"By that time I thought maybe she was telling me what was right. 'Miss +Robinson,' says I, 'can I go over to see the Smiths?'—they was a +colored family that lived nearby. 'Don't you understand,' says she, +'you're free. You don't have to ask me what you can do. Run along +child.'</p> + +<p>"And so I went. And do you know why I was a'going? I wanted to find out +if they was free too." (a chuckle and toothy smile) "I just couldn't +take it all in. I couldn't believe we was all free alike.</p> + +<p>"Was I happy? Law Miss. You can take anything. No matter how good you +treat it—it wants to be free. You can treat it good and feed it good +and give it everything it seems to want—but if you open the cage—it's +happy.</p> + +<p>"What did I do after the war was over? I farmed. I farmed all my life, +'til I got too old. I stopped three—four years ago. I lives with my +son—Dave Robinson—the one I named for my master.</p> + +<p>"How did I farm? Did I share crop? No, ma'am!" (Sharply as tho +repramanding the inquirer for an undeserved insult.) "I didn't share +crop, except just at first to get a start. I rented. I paid thirds and +fourths. I always rented. I wasn't a share-cropper.[A]</p> + +<p>[A: Socially and economically sharp distinctions are drawn between the +different classes of renters, both by owners and tenants themselves. +Families whom ambition and circumstances have allowed to accumulate +enough surplus to buy farm implements and have food for a year ahead +look with scorn on fellow farmers who thru inertia or bad luck must be +furnished food and the wherewithall to farm. In turn, families that have +forged ahead sufficiently to be able to pay cash rent on farms they +cultivate look down On both of the other groups.]</p> + +<p>"It was awful hard going after the war. But I got me a place—had to +share-crop for a year or two. But I worked hard and saved all I could. +Pretty soon I had me enough that I could rent. I always raised the usual +things—cotton and corn and potatoes and a little truck and that sort of +thing—always raised enough to eat for us and the stock—and then some +cotton for a cash crop.</p> + +<p>"My first wife, well it was kind of funny; I wasn't more than 19. She +had 11 children. Some of them was older than I was. No ma'am it wasn't +so hard on me. They was all old enough to take care of themselves. I +lived with that woman for 17 years. Then she died.</p> + +<p>"I been married five times. Three of my children are living. One's +here—that's Dave. Then there's one in Texarkana and there's one in +Kansas City. Two of my children's dead. The youngest died just about +last year. All my wives are dead.</p> + +<p>"Almost every day I comes up to sit here and watch the children. It does +me good to see 'em. Makes me feel good all over to think about all the +fine chance they has to get a good education. Sonny, you hear me? You +pay attention too, sonny. I'm watching you—you and all the other little +boys. You mind me. You learn all you can. You ought to be so thankful +you allowed to learn that you work hard. You mind me, sonny. When you're +grown up, you'll know what I'm talking about—and know I'm right. Run +along, sonny. No use hanging around the school yard too long."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RogersIsom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Isom Rogers, Edmondson, Arkansas<br> +Age: 67</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Tunica County, Austin, Mississippi. I been in Edmondson, +Arkansas ten years. I come to do better. Said farming was good here. My +folks' owners was Master Palmer and George Rogers. My parents was never +sold. They was young folks in slavery time and at time of freedom. They +was farm hands. Their names was Pat and Ely Rogers.</p> + +<p>"I heard him say he made palings and went 'round mending the fences when +the ground was froze. He made boards to cover the houses with too—I +heard him say. He was strong and worked all the time at some jobs. Never +heard mother say very much.</p> + +<p>"I been farming and I have worked on quarter-boat and back farming. I +been here ten years."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RogersOscarJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Oscar James Rogers, Wheatley, Arkansas<br> +Age: Up in 70's</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I come to dis state in 1885. I run off from my parents back in North +Carolina. They was working in a turpentine forest there.</p> + +<p>"When freedom was declared my folks heard 'bout a place where money was +easy to make. So they walked from down close to Charleston up there and +carried the children. I was 'bout nine or ten years old. I liked the +farm so I left the turpentine farm. I got to rambling round and finally +got to Arkansas. I run off from my folks cause they kept staying there. +I was a child and don't recollect much 'bout slavery. I was at the +quarters wid all the children. My mother b'longed to Bob Plat and my +father to a man named Rogers. My father could get a pass and come to see +us every Sunday providin' he didn't go nowhere else or stop long the +road. He came early and stay till bedtime. We all run to meet him. He +kiss us all in bed when he be leavin'.</p> + +<p>"I heard them say they 'spected a home and freedom but when the time +come they master forgot 'bout home cause they just took the few clothes +in bundles and left. Then they had a hard time 'cause they never thought +how freedom would be. They never axed for nothin' and they never got +nothin'. They didn't understand how to hustle lest somebody tell them +what to do next. They did have a hard time and it was cold and rocky up +in North Carolina to what they had been used to down close to +Charleston.</p> + +<p>"When I got out to Arkansas I like it better than any country I seed and +I say 'I'm stayin' here.' I meant to go back but I married and didn't +get no money ahead for a long time. Then I had a family of 11 children. +Jes' 'fore I married I got to go to school four months' close to Cotton +Plant, where I married.</p> + +<p>"When I was young I sho could knock off de work. I cummulated 80 acres +land in Lee County. I paid $900 for it, got in debt and had let it fur +'bout ($247.50) Two hundred forty-seven and a half dollars. All I got +outen it. I had a bad crop and had a little provision bill. I made on +time, man agreed to run me on then took it 'bout all.</p> + +<p>"Then I still was a strong man an' we bought 40 acres 14 miles from +Cotton Plant and I had it 27 years. Then lost it.</p> + +<p>"My second wife owned a house and garden at Wheatley half a mile or so +from town. We live over there. Our children all gone. She say she cooked +and washed and farmed for it. It cost $100.00.</p> + +<p>"I could do heap work if I could get it. Old man can't get 'nuff regular +work to cover my house or buy me a suit closes. The Government gives me +$10.00 a month. That's a help out but it don't go fir high as provisions +is. Me an' the old woman both too feeble to do much hard work. I gets +all the odd jobs the white folks give me. Misses, I ain't lazy, I jess +gettin' old and not able to hold out to do much. Whut I could do they +give it to the young fellows cause they do it in a hurry.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote right smart when they needed me to help out. I voted for +Hoover. Don't think it right the way the men settin' round and deir +wives workin' fer livin' and votin'. The women can vote if they want to +but I don't think it right. Seems lack the cart in front ob de horse +now.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't do no more good to vote in the Primary than it do in the +General election. It don't do much good nohow.</p> + +<p>"Fur as I ever knowed the slaves had no uprisin's. They thought well +enough of their masters. Everybody worked then hard as they could. The +master he worked all time in the shop making things jess like he needed, +boards and handles, plows and things. Missus, everybody worked hard dem +days, both black and white, and that is the reason folks had plenty. The +old grandmas done work whut suited them and helped out. Now lack me, I +can't get the right work whut I able to do 'nuff to keep me livin'. It +is bad.</p> + +<p>"If times was bad as they was few years ago all old folks done been +rotten, starved to death. Times is better but they sho ain't all right +yet.</p> + +<p>"This young generation livin' so fast they stop thinkin'. They do well +to keep livin' their selves. They wastes a heap they outer save fur +rainy days. They ain't takin' no advice from old folks. I don't know +whut goiner become of them."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RogersWillAnn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Will Ann Rogers<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born three years after the surrender. I was born at Fryers Point, +Mississippi. The reason I ain't got the exact date when I was born, my +ma put it down in the Bible and the house burned up and everything in it +burned to ashes. No mam she got somebody what could write real nice to +write all the names and ages for her.</p> + +<p>"When ma was a young woman, she said they put her on a block and sold +her. They auctioned her off at Richmond, Virginia. When they sold her, +her mother fainted or drapped dead, she never knowed which. She wanted +to go see her mother lying over there on the ground and the man what +bought her wouldn't let her. He just took her on. Drove her off like +cattle, I recken. The man what bought her was Ephram Hester. That the +last she ever knowed of any of her folks. She say he mated 'em like +stock so she had one boy. He livin' down here at Helena now. He is Mose +Kent. He was born around Richmond, Virginia jes' lack dat she say.</p> + +<p>"When it nearly 'bout time for freedom a whole army of Yankees come by +and seed Mose working. They told him if he come go wid them they give +him that spotted horse and pair red boots. He crawled up on the horse +an' was gone wid 'em for a fact she said. She started right after them, +following him. She followed them night and day. She nearly starved, jess +begged 'long the road all she could. I heard her say how fast she have +to walk to keep on trail of 'em and how many nights. She say some nights +when they camped she would beg 'round and try to fill up. But she +couldn't get to Mose without them seein' her. When they got to Fryers +Point she went an' got him. They jess laughed and never give him +nuthin'. They left that army fast as they could she say.</p> + +<p>"She married at Fryers Point. She had jes' one boy and I had four or +five sisters. They all dead but me and Mose. He think he 'bout ninety +years old. He come here to see me last year. He sho is feeble.</p> + +<p>"How come I here? When I was fourteen years old my family heard how fine +this State was and moved to Helena. I lived at Moro and Cotton Plant. +Then, the way I come here was funny. A man come up there and say a free +train was comin' to go back to Africa. All who wanted to go could go. My +pa sold out 'bout all we had an' we come here lack they say. No train +come yet goin' to Africa as I seed. My pa give the white man $5.00 to +pay fer the train. Tom Watson was one of 'em too. He was a sorter leader +'mong 'em wantin' to go back. Well when the day come that the train due +to start everybody come to the depot whar the train going to stop. There +was a big crowd. Yes mam, dressed up, and a little provisions and +clothes fixed up. Jes' could take along a little. They say it would be +crowded so. We stayed around here a week or two waitin' to hear +somethin' or be ready to go. Most everybody stayed prutty close to the +depot for two or three days. Yes mam there sho was a crowd—a whole big +train full from here 'sides the other places. I jes' stayed here an' +been here ever since. The depot agent, he told 'em he didn't know 'bout +no train going to Africa. The tickets was no good on his trains.</p> + +<p>"How I owns this place, I'll tell you. A man here had all dis land +'round here (Negro town) laid off. He couldn't sell none of his lots. +They wouldn't buy his lots. So he got after me. We had made a good crop, +so I got up the money and bought this place. One hundred dollars is what +I give him. Others then started to settlin' in and about close to my +place.</p> + +<p>"I guess it was Spotsells in Virginia what raised her. She say her name +was Lizzie Spotsell Johnson. Then when Ephram Hester bought her they +learned her to do about in their house. She cooked and swept and knocked +flies and tended to the children. She stayed with 'em a pretty long time +till she run off and went to Fryers Point.</p> + +<p>"She may have told us about the Nat Turner rebellion but I don't +remember it. They sung a lot in my mother's time. Seemed lack they was +happier than we are somehow. She sung religious songs and one or two +field songs. I don't recollect 'em now.</p> + +<p>"I never did vote. I never cared nuthin' about it. Some of 'em 'round +here wouldn't miss votin' for nothin'.</p> + +<p>"Lawd me, chile, the times is done run ahead of me now. I'm so fur +behind I never expect to catch up. I don't pay no more attention to the +young folks, the way they act now, 'an I do my little dog there. They +don't want no advice and I would be afraid I would 'vise 'em wrong. When +my children come I tell 'em you are grown and you knows right from +wrong. Do right. That's all I know to say.</p> + +<p>"The way I am supported is my husband gets all the jobs he able to do +and can and the governmint give me an' him $10 a month. We has a little +garden."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RooksWilliamHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: William Henry Rooks<br> + Baptist Preacher; Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>The slaves didn't spect nothing but freedom. Jes freedom! In Africa they +was free as wild animals and then they was so restricted. Jes put in +bondage for no reason at all.</p> + +<p>No plantations was divided. I was born a slave and I remembers right +smart how it was.</p> + +<p>My master was John Freeman and his wife's name was Fannie. I went to +Como, Mississippi twice a week to get the mail all durin the war. It was +eight miles. I rode a pony.</p> + +<p>If you go to church you have to have a pass from the master. The +pattyrollers see you and you have to show it to them. It was just a +note. If you didn't have it they take or send you home. If they catch +you any more without a pass they whip you. They come to the church and +in all public places like the police stands around now. They rode around +mostly. Sometimes they went in droves.</p> + +<p>They would let you go visiting sometimes and exchange work. Some masters +was good and some was mean jess like they are now and some slaves good +and some bad. That is the way they are now.</p> + +<p>Some of the white men had a hundred slaves and had plenty money. The war +broke nearly all of them. The very worse thing I ever knowed about it +was some white men raised hands to sell like they raise stock now. It +was hard to have your child took off and never see or hear tell of it. +Mean man buy it and beat it up. Some of them was drove off to be sold at +auction at New Orleans. That was where some took them cause they could +get big money for them.</p> + +<p>I never knowed of a master to give the slaves a dime when they become +free. They never promissed them nothing. The Yankees might have to toll +them off. The hands all stayed on John Freeman's place and when it was +over he give them the privilege of staying right on in their houses. +Some left after awhile and went somewhere they thought they could do +better.</p> + +<p>They didn't have the Ku Klux but it was bout like it what they had. They +wore caps shine de coons eye and red caps and red garments. Red +symbolize blood reason they wore red. They broke up our preaching. Some +folks got killed. Some was old, some young—old devlish ones. They was +like a drove of varments. I guess you be scared. They run the colored +folks away from church a lot of times. That was about equalization after +the freedom. That was the cause of that.</p> + +<p>There was uprisings like I'm telling you but the colored folks didn't +have nothing to go in a gun if he had one. White folks make them give up +a gun.</p> + +<p>The first votin I done I was workin for young Henry Larson back in +Mississippi. He give my mother $120 a year to cook for his young wife +and give her what she eat and I worked on his farm. He told me to go +vote, it was election day. I ask him how was I going to know how to +vote. I could read a little. I couldn't write. The ballot box was at +Pleasant Mount. Ozan set over the box. He was a Yankee. He was the only +one kept the box. It was a wooden box nailed up and a slit in the top. +A.R. Howe and Captain Howe was two more Yankee white men there watching +round all day. Ozan was the sheriff at Sardis, Mississippi soon after +the war. Some more colored folks come up to vote. We stood around and +watched. We saw D. Sledge vote; he owned half of the county. We knowed +he voted Democrat so we voted the other ticket so it would be +Republican. I voted for President Grant. I don't believe in women +voting. They used to have the Australian Ballot System. It's a heap more +the man that's elected than it is the party. We all voted for Hoover; he +was a Republican and foe he got one term served out we was about on +starvation. I ain't voted since. That President claim to be a Democrat. +He ain't no Democrat. I don't know what he be.</p> + +<p>I been farming and preaching. I started preaching in Mississippi. I +joined the conference in Arkansas in 1886 and started preaching at +Surrounded Hill (Biscoe). I come here in 1884 from Pinola County. +Mississippi. I had some stock and they was fencing up everything over +there. I had no land so I come to an open country. It wasn't long before +they fenced it in. I come to Brinkley and worked for Gun and Black +sawmill and I been here forty or fifty years. I don't know jess how +long. I couldn't starve to death in a whole year here. The people +wouldn't let me. I got lot of friends, both black and white, here.</p> + +<p>I married December 17, 1874 in the Baptist church. Glasco Wilson was the +preacher married me. My wife died here in dis house nine years ago. We +had ten children but jes two livin now. My girl married a preacher and +live at Hope. Arkansas. My son preaches in Parson, Kansas.</p> + +<p>I supports my own self. I works and I preaches a little yet. I saved up +some money but it nearly give out. The young generation, some of them, +do mighty bad. Some of them is all right. Some of them don't do much and +don't save nothing. I owns this house and did own another one what +burned down. A lamp exploded and caught it while I was going off up the +road but I never looked back or I would have seen it. It seem lack now +it takes more money to do than it ever did in times before. Seems like +money is the only thing to have and get. Folks gone scottch crazy over +money, money! Both is changing. The white folks, I'm speaking bout, the +white folks has changed and course the colored folks keeping up wid +them. The old white and colored neither can't keep up wid the fast +times. I say it's the folks that made this depression and it's the folks +keeping the depression. The little fellow is squeezed clear out. It out +to be stopped. Folks ain't happy like they used to be. Course they sung +songs all the time. Religious choruses mostly.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RossAmanda"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Amanda Ross<br> + 817 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was nine years old in the time of the surrender. I know I was here in +that time. I don't know nothin' 'bout their carryin'-on. I know they +whipped them with hobble rods. You don't know what hobble rods is!!! +Ain't you seen these here long thin hick'ry shoots? They called hobble +rods. I don't know why they called 'em hobble rods. I know they made you +hobble. They'd put 'em in the fire and roast 'em and twist 'em. I have +seen 'em whip them till the blood run down their backs. I've seen 'em +tie the women up, strip 'em naked to their waist and whip 'am till the +blood run down their backs. They had a nigger whipper, too.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Salem, Alabama. I came up here about twenty-five years +ago.</p> + +<p>"Isaac Adair was the name of the old man who owned me. He owned my +mother and father too, Hester and Scip. Their last name was Adair, the +same as their master's.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember the names of my grandfather and grandmother, 'cause we +was crossed up, you see, One of my grandmothers was named Crecie and the +other was named Lydia. I don't remember my grandfather's name. I spect I +used to call 'im master. I used to remember them but I don't no more. +Nobody can't worry me 'bout them old folks now. They ast me all them +questions at the Welfare. They want to know your gran'pa and your +gran'ma. Who were they, what did they do, where did they live, where are +they now? I don't know what they did. That's too far back for me.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father had nine children. I have only one sister living. +All the others done gone to heaven but me and her.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father lived in a log cabin. They had one-legged beds +nailed to the wall. They had benches and boxes and blocks and all sich +as that for chairs. My daddy made the table we used. He made them +one-legged beds too. They kept the food in boxes and gourds. They had +these big gourds. They could cut holes in the top of them and put things +in them. My mammy had a lot of 'em and they were nice and clean too. +Wisht I had one of them now.</p> + +<p>"Some folks didn't have that good. We had trundle beds for the children +that would run under the big bed when they wasn't sleeping in it. We +made a straw mattress. You know the white folks weren't goin' to let 'em +use cotton, and they didn't have no chickens to git feathers from; so +they had to use straw. Oh, they had a hard time I'm tellin' you. My +mother pulled greens out of the garden and field, and cured it up for +the mattress.</p> + +<p>"For rations, we'd eat onions and vegetables. We et what was raised. You +know they didn't have nothin' then 'cept what they raised. All the +cookin' was done at one house, but there was two cooks, one for the +colored folks and one for the white folks. My grandma cooked for the +white people. They cooked in those big old washpots for the colored +people. We all thought we had a pretty good master.</p> + +<p>"We didn't know nothin' about a master.</p> + +<p>"I ain't positive what time the hands ate breakfast. I know they et it +and I know they et at the same time and place. I think they et after +sunrise. They didn't have to eat before sunrise.</p> + +<p>"When they fed the children, they cook the food and put it in a great +big old tray concern and called up the children, 'Piggee-e-e-e-e, +piggee-e-e-e-e.' My cousin was the one had to go out and call the +children; and you could see them runnin' up from every which way, little +shirt tails flyin' and hair sticking out. Then they would pour the food +out in different vessels till the children could git around them with +those muscle-shell spoons. Many of them as could get 'round a vessel +would eat out of it and when they finished that one, they'd go to +another one, and then to another one till they all got fed.</p> + +<p>"My master worked seventy hands they said. He had two colored overseers +and one white one. He didn't allow them overseers to whip and slash them +niggers. They had to whip them right. Didn't allow no pateroles to +bother them neither. That's a lot of help too. 'Cause them pateroles +would eat you up. It was awful. Niggers used to run away to keep from +bein' beat up.</p> + +<p>"I knowed one gal that ran away in the winter time and she went up into +the hollow of a tree for protection. When she came in, she was in sich a +bad condition they had to cut off both her legs. They had froze out +there. They taken care of her. They wanted her to work. She was jus' as +nice a seamstress as you ever saw. And she could do lots of things. She +could get about some. She could go on her knees. She had some pads for +them and was just about as high as your waist when she was goin' along +on her hands and knees, swinging her body between her arms.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ate in the Big House</b></p> + +<p>"The cooks and my mother stayed in the white folks' yard. They weren't +in the quarters. My mother was seamstress and she was right in the house +all the day long sewing. The children like me and my sister, they used +us 'round the house and yard for whatever we could do. They didn't never +whip none of my father's children. If we done something they thought we +ought to been whipped for, they would tell father to whip us, and if he +wanted to, he would; and if he didn't want to, he wouldn't. They made a +big difference for some reason.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"They married in that time by standing up and letting someone read the +ceremony to them. My master was a Christian. There wasn't no jumpin' +over a broomstick on my master's place. The white folks didn't have no +nigger preacher for their churches. But the colored folks had 'em. They +preached out of these little old Blue Back Spellers—leastways they was +little blue back books anyhow.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"My folks was on the road refugeeing from Magnolia, Arkansas to +Pittsburg, Texas when the news came that the colored folks was free. And +my master came 'round and told the niggers they was free as he was. I +didn't hear him. I don't know where I was. I'm sure I was out playin +somewheres.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Wages and Experiences after the War</b></p> + +<p>"My father worked in a blacksmith shop right after the War. Before the +War, he went far and near to work for the white folks. They'd risk him +with their money and everything. They would give him part of it; I don't +know how much. He brought money to them, and they sure give him money.</p> + +<p>"We didn't have to wear the things the other slave children had to wear. +He would order things for his family and my father would do the same for +us. When old master made his order, my father would put his in with it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Family</b></p> + +<p>"I am the mother of fifteen children—ten girls and five boys. That was +enough for me. I am willing to quit off. My husband is dead. He's been +dead for thirty-five years.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say about these young people. Mine are pretty +good. So, I'm 'fraid to say much about the others.</p> + +<p>"Lord, I don't know what we'll do if we don't get some rain.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>When I was able I washed and ironed. I didn't have to do nothin' till +after my father and husband died. Then I washed and ironed and cooked +till the white folks set me out. They said I was too old. That is one +thing I hates to think of. They had the privilege to say I couldn't +work; they ought to a seen that I got somethin' to live on when I wasn't +able to work no more."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>You can't get the whole story by reading the words in this interview. +You have to hear the tones and the accents, and see the facial +expressions and bodily movements, and sense the sometimes almost occult +influence; you have to feel the utter lack of resentment that lies +behind the words that sound vehement when read. You marvel at the quick, +smooth cover-up when something is to be withheld, at the unexpected +vigor of the mind when the bait is attractive enough to draw it out, and +at the sweetness of the disposition. Some old people merely get mellowed +and sweetened by the hardships through which they have passed. +Sometimes, you wonder if some of the old folk don't have dispositions +that they can turn off or on at will.</p> + +<p>It is not hard to realize the reason why Amanda was treated better than +other children when you remember that she called her grandpa "Master".</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RossCat"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: "Cat" Ross<br> + Brassfield, Ark.<br> +Age: Born 1862</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Releford County on old Major Ross place. I was born +durin' a battle between the North and South at Murfreesboro. The house +was on the battle ground. Mama had five children. Her name was Susanna +Wade. Papa's name was Amos Ross. He belong to Major Bill Ross. Major +Ross had ten houses houses—one at the edge of the thicket, two on Stone +river, and they was scattered around over his land. Major Ross never +went to war. Papa went with Major Billy to bury his gold. It stayed +where they put it till after the war they went and dug it up. I seen +that. When they brought it to the house, it was a pot—iron pot—full of +gold. I didn't know where they had it buried nor how they fixed it.</p> + +<p>"My folks was all field hands. They muster been blessed cause they +didn't get mixed up with the other nations. Grandfather's +mother—Grandma Venus—come from Africa. She'd been in bondage about a +hundred years. I recollect her well. My folks all lived to be old +people, over a hundred years old. They was all pretty well, all +Africans.</p> + +<p>"I have seen the Ku Klux quarter mile long and two breasted on horses. +They scared me so bad I never had no experiences with them. They run my +uncle in. He was a big dancer. One time they made him dance. He cut the +pigeon-wing for them. That was the name of what he danced.</p> + +<p>"I never was sold. I was give way. One of the Wades married into the +Mitchell family. Mama belong to the Wades. They give me and Mama and +Aunt Sallie—she wasn't my aunt but I called her that—to Wade's +daughter. She was the young mistress. The Wades wasn't so good to their +slaves. When freedom was declared, Papa come and got me and Mama and +took us on over to his place agin. We started sharecroppin' at Major +Ross's place. In 1881 Chick McGregor paid my way. I come to Arkansas. I +farmed all my life till 1922 to 1933 I been here in Brassfield +sawmilling. They took the mill away from here. I cain't plough, I'm not +able. I pick and hoe cotton. I work day labor. I never have got on the +Welfare."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RossMattie"></a> +<h3>Southfield<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson<br> +Subject: Centennial Snow—Spring in St. Louis addition<br> +<br> +Name: Mattie Ross<br> +Occupation: Gardening<br> +Residence: South Field, Oil Field.<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.]</p> +<br> + +<p>Ah wuz born aftuh surrender. Ah guess ah'm about 74 years ole. Mah pa +wuz er slave an mah ma wuz too. Dey moster wuz name Green Traylor an dey +lived right down dar at <u>Tula</u> Creek. Mah mistess wuz named Martha +Traylor an dey name me aftuh huh. Mah name is Martha Lee Traylor. Aftuh +she mahried huh name wiz Martha Tatum. We worked down dar. Oh! Mah Lawd! +How we did work—all ovah dat bottom. De puttiest fiel' ah evah did see. +De Traylor's owned hit den. Later on de Tatums bought hit fum dem and +years aftuh dat de Nash's bought hit fum de Tatums. But new all uv dat +place is growed up. Nothing but er pine thicket and er black berry +thicket. Ye caint hardly walk through de place. Later on de Cobbs owned +us. George Cobb wuz his name. He lived down in de Caledonia settlement. +Ah went behin' him er many er day wid de hoe or he'd crack mah haid. He +use tuh be de sheriff here de years uv de boom an his nephew is de +sheriff now—Grady Wosley. Later en while ah wuz a gull ah werked fuh de +Swilleys an wuz partly raised on dey plantation. De ole man wuz name +Lawson Swilley. His wife, Margaret Swilley, and I clare dem two people +treated me white. She mammied me er many er day. Ah wuz bred and born +right down dar er-round Caledonia. Ah wuz a big gull durin de time uv de +centennial snow. Dis snow wuz called dat cause hit wuz de bigges snow +dat evah been. Hit wuz ovah yo haid. We had tuh spade our way evah whah +we went. Tuh de wood gitting place, tuh de sping, tuh de hoss lot, and +evah whah. De anow wuz warm an soft. We piled up so much snow till hit +took hit er half er year tuh melt. Dat snow stayed on de groun two +months.</p> + +<p>Ah am de muthah uv five gulls and fo' boys. Didn nairy one uv mah gulls +come in de pen till dey wuz mahried. Ah use tuh fish in er big ole fish +pond rat down whah de wesson depot is now. Years ergo people come fum +Camden an othuh places tuh fish in dat fish pond.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sam Austin sole old man Burgy (Burgiss?) er piece uv groun' to bury +folks in and he wuz de first man tuh die an be buried dar. So dey name +hit de Burgy Cemetery.</p> + +<p>Down dar in Memphis Addition atah the colored Prof. Dykes place dar use +tuh be one uv de bes' springs. Course at dat time hit wuz er big ole +fiel' den and de watuch wuz jes lak ice watuh.</p> + +<p>Dat make me think. Mah pa sed he went tuh de wah tuh cook fuh his ole +moster, Green Traylor. Well pa said dar wuz er spring whar dey got +watuh. Said he went tuh git watuh outen de sping and had tuh pull dead +men outn de spring an dat day drinked of'n dem dead men all while de wah +wuz going on.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RowlandLaura"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Laura Rowland<br> + (Bright Mulatto)<br> +Age: 65?<br> +Address: Brinkley, Arkansas</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My parents name was Mary Ann and Sam Billingslea. Mother's father lived +with us when I first remember. His name was Robert Todd. He was a brown +skin Negro. They said he was a West Indian. He talked of olden times but +I don't remember well enough to tell you. Father owned a home that we +was living on when I first remember. Mother was bright color, too. +Vaden, Mississippi was our trading post. Mother had twenty children. She +was a worker. She would work anywhere she was put. My folks never talked +much about slavery. I don't know how they got our place.</p> + +<p>"I know they was bothered by the Ku Klux. One night they heard or saw +the Ku Klux coming. The log house set low on the ground but was dug out +to keep potatoes and things in—a cellar like. The planks was wide, bout +a foot wide, rough pine, not nailed down. They lifted the planks up and +all lay down and put the planks back up. The house look like outside +nothing could go under it, it was setting on the hard ground. When they +got there and opened the doors they saw nobody at home and rode off.</p> + +<p>"Another time, one black night, a man—he must have been a +soldier—strided a block step with his horse and ordered supper. She +told him she didn't have nothing cooked and very little to cook. He +cursed and ordered the supper. Told her to get it. She pretended to be +fixing it and slipped out the back door down the furrows and squatted in +the briers in a fence corner. Long time after she had been out there +hid, he come along, jumped the fence on his horse, jumped over her back, +down into the lane and to the road he went. If the horse hadn't jumped +over her and had struck her he would have killed her. Now I think he was +a soldier, not the Ku Klux. I heard my father say he was a yard boy.</p> + +<p>"I married in Mississippi and came to Malvern and Hot Springs. He was a +mill hand. I raised three children of my own and was a chamber maid. I +kept house and cooked for Mrs. Bera McCafity, a rich woman in Hot +Springs. My husband died and was buried at Malvern. I married again, in +Hot Springs, and lived there several years. We went to the steel mill at +Gary, Indiana. He died. I come back here and to Brinkley in 1920. One +daughter lives in Detroit and one in Chicago. The youngest one is +married, has a family and a hard time; the other makes her living. It +takes it all to do her. I get $8.00 on the P.W.A.</p> + +<p>"They all accuse me around here of talking mighty proper. I been around +fine city folks so much I notice how they speak.</p> + +<p>"I don't fool with voting. I don't care to vote unless it would be some +town question to settle. I would know something about it and the people.</p> + +<p>"I don't know my age. I was grown when I married nearly sixty years ago. +We have to show our license to get on the W.P.A. or our age in the Bible +you understand."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RuckerLandy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Landy Rucker<br> + 2315 W. Fourth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1854 in the State of Georgia, Elbert County.</p> + +<p>"I member some about the war. I went to the field when I was twelve. +Pulled fodder, picked peas and tended to the cow pen. I had to go then. +We had <u>a good master</u>. <u>Our mistress wasn't good though</u>. She +wouldn't give us enough to eat. Old master used to ask if we had enough +to eat and he'd pull out great big hams and cut em all to pieces and +give em to us. Old mistress would cry and say, 'You're givin' away all +my good dinner.' But she repented since the war. She said she didn't do +right.</p> + +<p>"We got here to Pine Bluff in '61.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I remember comin' here on the train and on the boat.</p> + +<p>"Old mistress whipped us when she thought we needed it. I been pretty +good all my life.</p> + +<p>"My father was a blacksmith and one day when I was six or seven I was +takin' his dinner when some dogs smelled the dinner and smelled me too +and they got after me. I had to climb a tree and they stayed around till +they heard some other dogs barkin' and ran off. I come down then and +took my bucket and left. Nother time some hogs chased me. They rooted +all around the tree till they heard somethin' crackle in the woods and +run off and then I'd come down.</p> + +<p>"After the war I went to school three days and the teacher whipped me. I +went home and I didn't go back. I went home and went to the field. I had +a mother and a sister and I tried to make a living for them.</p> + +<p>"I went to school a little while after that and then went to the field. +Most I know I learned by myself.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I seen the Yankees bout a year fore the war ceasted. They come +to get somethin' to eat and anything else they could get. Got the mules +and things and took my two brothers and put em in the war. One come back +after surrender and the other one died in the war. They said they was +fightin' to free the niggers from being under bondage.</p> + +<p>"I seen the Ku Klux. Looked like their horses could fly. Made em jump a +big high fence. They come and took my father and all the other men on +the place and was goin' to put em in the Confederate army. But papa was +old and he cried and old mistress thought a lot of him so they let him +stay. I just lay down and hollered cause they was takin' my brothers, +but they didn't keep em long. One of my brothers, six years older than +me, come up here to Pine Bluff to jine the Yankees.</p> + +<p>"We could hear the guns at Marks Mill.</p> + +<p>"I been married twice. There was about eleven years betwixt the two +marriages.</p> + +<p>"I worked on the farm till about '85. Then I worked in the planing mill. +I got hit by a car and it broke my hip so I have to walk on crutches +now. Then I got me a little shoe shop and I got along fine till I got so +I couldn't set down long enough to fix a pair of shoes. I bought this +house and I gets help from the Relief so I'm gettin' along all right +now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RuffinMartha"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Martha Ruffin<br> + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in North Carolina, and I was seven years old when the +Surrender was. Every one of my children can tell you when they was born, +but I can't. My mother, Quinettie Farmer was her name. Brother Robert +Farmer is my cousin. He is about the same age as my husband. He got +married one week and me and my husband the next. My father's name was +Valentine Farmer. My grandmother on my mother's side was Mandy Harrison, +and my grandfather's name on my mother's side was Jordan Harrison. My +grandpa on my father's side was named Reuben Farmer, and his wife was +Nancy Farmer. I have seed my grandpa and grandma on my father's side. +But my mother didn't see them on my mother's side.</p> + +<p>"I 'members my daddy's white folks' names, Moses Farmer. My father never +was sold. My daddy, Valentine Farmer, was a ditcher, shoemaker, and +sometimes a tanner. My mother was a house girl. She washed and ironed. I +couldn't tell exactly what my grandparents did. My grandparents, so my +parents told me, were mostly farmers. I reckon Moses Farmer owned about +three hundred slaves.</p> + +<p>"I was born on Robert Bynum's place. He was my mother's owner. He +married one of the Harrison girls and my mother fell to that girl. My +mother done just about as she pleased. She didn't know nothin' about +workin' in the field till after the Surrender.</p> + +<p>"The way my mother and father happened to meet—my old master hired my +daddy to do some work for him and he met my mama that way.</p> + +<p>"The way my folks learned they was free was, a white school-teacher who +was teaching school where we stayed told my mother she was free, but not +to say nothing about it. About three weeks later, the Yankees come +through there and told them they was free and told my old boss that if +he wanted them to work he would have to hire them and pay them. The +school-teacher stayed with mother's folks—mother's white folks. The +school-teacher was teaching white folks, not niggers. She was a Yankee, +too. My mother was the house girl, and the school-teacher stayed with +her folks. The War was so hot she couldn't git no chance to go back +home.</p> + +<p>"My daddy farmed after the War. He farmed on shares the first year. The +next year, he bought him a horse. He finally owned his own farm. He +owned it when he died. He had about one hundred acres of land.</p> + +<p>"I have pretty fair health for an old woman like I am. I am bothered +with the rheumatism. The Lawd wouldn't let both of us git down at the +same time. (Here she refers to her husband who was sick in bed at the +time she made the statement. You have his story already. It was +difficult for her to tell her story, for he wanted it to be like +his—ed.)</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church. I haven't changed my +membership from my home.</p> + +<p>"I got married in 1882, in February. How many years is that? I got so I +can't count up nothin'. Fifty-six years. Yes, that's it; that's how long +I been married. I had a little sister that got married with me. She +didn't really git married; she just stood up with me. She was just a +little baby girl. They told me I was pretty near twenty-three years old +when I married. I have a daughter that's been married twenty-five years. +We had older daughters, but that one was the first one married. I have +got a daughter over in North Little Rock that is about fifty years old. +Her husband is dead. We had ten children. My daughter is the mother of +ten children too. She got married younger than I did. This girl I am +living with is my baby. I have four children living—three girls and one +boy. A woman asked me how many children I had and I told her three. She +was a fortuneteller and she wanted to tell me my fortune. But I didn't +want her to tell me nothin'. God was gittin' ready to tell me somethin' +I didn't want to hear. I've got five great-grandchildren. We don't have +no great-great-grandchildren. Don't want none."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>The old lady's style was kind of cramped by the presence of her husband. +Every once in a while, when she would be about to paint something in +lurid colors, he would drop in a word and she would roll her phrases +around in her mouth, so to speak, and shift and go ahead in a different +direction and on another gear.</p> + +<p>Very pleasant couple though—with none of the bitterness that old age +brings sometimes. The daughter's name is Searles.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RuffinThomas"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person Interviewed: Thomas Ruffin<br> + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82 or 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in North Carolina, Franklin County, near Raleigh. My +father's name really I don't know. Folks said my master was my daddy. +That's what they told me. Of course, I don't know myself. But then white +folks did anything they wanted to in slavery times.</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Morina Ruffin. I don't know the names of my +grandparents. That is too far back in slavery for me. Of course, old man +Ruffin my father's father, which would have been my grandfather, he died +way back yonder in slave times before the war. My father gotten kilt in +the war. His name was Tom Ruffin. I was named after him. He died trying +to hold us. That man owned three hundred slaves. He never married. +Carried my mother round everywhere he went. Out of all his niggers, he +didn't have but one with him. That was in slavery time and he was a fool +about her.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't tell you exactly when I was born. Up until the surrender I +couldn't tell how old I was. I am somewheres around eighty-two years +old. The old lady is just about the same. We guesses it in part. We +figure it on what we heard the old folks say and things like that. I +remember plenty of things about slavery that I saw.</p> + +<p>"I never did much when I was a boy. The biggest thing I remember is a +mule got to kicking and jumped around in a stall. She lost her footing +and fell down and broke her neck right there in the stall. I remember +her name as well as if it was yesterday. Her name was Bird. That was +just before the war. I know I must have been at least four years old +then. You can figure that up and see what it comes to.</p> + +<p>"I never did any work when I was a child. I jus went to the spring with +the young Mistress and danced for them sometimes. But they never did +give me any work to do,—like they did the others. I lived right in the +biggest house the biggest portion of my time.</p> + +<p>"That day and time, they made compost heaps. Mixed dirt with manure. +They hoed cotton and crops. They didn't know what school was. They +helped with washing and ironing. Did every kind of work they had +strength enough to do till they got big enough to go to the field. That +was what the children did.</p> + +<p>"When they were about seven years old, to the best of my recollection +they would go to the field. Seven or eight. They would pick up corn +stalks and brush. And from that on when they were about eight or nine, +they would pick cotton.</p> + +<p>"My mother never did have to do anything round the farm. She lived about +seventy-five miles from it, there where the master had his office. He +was a lawyer. After I was born, she didn't come out to see me but once a +year that I recollect. When she did come, she would bring me some candy +or cakes or something like that.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see the soldiers during the time of the war. But I saw plenty +of them afterwards—riding round and telling the niggers they were free. +They had some of the finest saddles I ever seed. You could hear them +creaking a block off. No, I didn't see them while they was fighting. We +were close enough to hear the guns crash, and we could see the light +from them, but I didn't actually see the fightin. The Yankees come +through on every plantation where they were working and entered into +every house and told us we was free. The Yankees did it. They told you +you were free as they were, that you didn't have to stay where you was, +that you didn't have no more master, that you could go and come as you +pleased.</p> + +<p>"I got along <u>hard</u> after I was freed. It is a hard matter to tell +you what we could find or get. We used to dig up dirt in the smokehouse +and boil it and dry it and sift it to get the salt to season our food +with. We used to go out and get old bones that had been throwed away and +crack them open and get the marrow and use them to season the greens +with. Jus plenty of niggers then didn't have anything but that to eat.</p> + +<p>"Even in slavery times, there was plenty of niggers out of them three +hundred slaves who had to break up old lard gourds and use them for +meat. They had to pick up bones off the dung hill and crack them open to +cook with. And then, of course, they'd steal. Had to steal. That the bes +way to git what they wanted.</p> + +<p>"They had a great big kitchen for the slaves. They had what you call pot +racks they could push them big pots in and out on. They cooked hog slop +there. They had trays and bowls to eat out of that were made out of gum +wood. It was a long house used as a kitchen for the hands to go in and +eat. They et dinner there and for supper they would be there. But +breakfast, they would have to eat in the field. The young niggers would +bring it out to them. They would bring it about an hour after the sun +rose and the slave hands would eat it right out in the field; that was +the breakfast. You see the hands went to the field before sunup, and +they didn't get to eat breakfast in the kitchen and it had to be et in +the field. Little undergrowth of children—they had plenty of them on +the place—had to carry their meals to them.</p> + +<p>"They would usually give them collars [HW: collards] in green times, +potatoes in potato time. Bread,—they didn't know what that was. White +folks hardly knew theirselves. They didn't have butter and they didn't +have no sugar. Didn't know much about what meat was yet. They would give +the little bits of children pot liquor. That's the most I ever seed them +git. Of course I was treated differently. You couldn't judge them by me. +I was the only half-white youngun round there, and they said I was +half-brother to ol Marse's chillun. And the white chillen would git me +up to the house to dance for them and all like, and they would give me +biscuits or anything good they had. I never seed the others eatin nothin +but pot liquor.</p> + +<p>"Most of the slaves lived in log cabins. You know they never had but one +door. In general where they had large families, they would have two +rooms with a chimney in the middle of the house. The chimney was built +out of mud and straw. I can remember them sawin the timber. Two pulled a +big ol crosscut saw. Didn't have no saw mills then. This world has come +from a long ways. They used to didn't have no plows. It was without +form. You made it at home.</p> + +<p>"They had ol homemade bedsteads to sleep in. They had a little rope that +ran back and forth instead of slats. That was called a corded bed. +Cheers were all made at home and were split bottoms.</p> + +<p>"They didn't many of the slaves have food in their homes. But when they +did, they would jus have a little wooden box and they would put their +food in it.</p> + +<p>"It seems like the white people got to burying their money during the +time of the war. That never come out till after the war. Then they got +to wantin that money and started looking for it. There never was any +talk of buried treasure before the war.</p> + +<p>"My folks didn't give me any schoolin before the surrender. I never got +any before the surrender and a mighty little afterwards. No nigger +knowed anything. I started to farming when I was thirteen years old. I +used to be a fertilizer, and then a cotton sower. That was the biggest I +knowed about farming when I was a boy. My mother lived about fifteen +years after slavery. I reckon.</p> + +<p>"In the time of slavery, you couldn't marry a woman. You just took up +with her. Mother married the same man she had been going with after +freedom. She had four children after the surrender as fer as I can +tell—three girls and two boys.</p> + +<p>"I moved from North Carolina to Louisiana. Stayed there one year and +then moved here. Bought forty acres of land. Bought it after I'd been +here a year. It took me four years to pay for that. Then next time I +bought eighty acres and paid for them. Paid them out in two years. Then +I bought eighty acres more and paid for them in two years. Couldn't pay +for them cash at first, but could have paid for the last eighty when I +bought them if I had a wanted to. Then I bought eighty more and then I +bought eighty again and then forty and on till I had five hundred and +three acres of farm land. I got the three over when I got the sorghum +mill.</p> + +<p>"I left my farm and come to the city for doctor's treatment. My old lady +and I worked out five hundred and three acres of land. I got five +children living. I gave each one of them forty acres of land. Most of +the rest I sold. I got a fellow here that owes me for one of the places +now. He lives over on Third and Dennison. His name is Wright. My old +lady an me held on to that and didn't lose it even in all these hard +years.</p> + +<p>"My daughter kept after me to come here and she built this little house +out here where I could holler or do anything I wanted to do and not +disturb nobody. I couldn't feel at home up in a big house with other +people. Four or five months ago it would take two people to put me to +bed. I would get off from home and have to carry me back. But I am +gettin along fine now. This high blood pressure keeps me from +remembering so well. Ol lady where's my pipe? You didn't find it up to +daughter's? Ain't it in the kitchen? Can't you find it nowheres? What +<u>didju</u> do with it? Well, you needn't look for it no longer. It's +here in my pocket. That's my high blood pressure workin. That whut it +does to you.</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church and have been belonging to it +altogether about sixty-three years. I used to be a Missionary. I been a +member of the church a long time.</p> + +<p>"I think times are jus fulfilling the Bible. The people are wiser now +than we ever known them to be and wickeder. I don't believe the times +you see now will be always. People are getting so wise and so wicked +that I think the end is near at hand. You notice the Germans now are +trying to make slaves out of the Jews. There's the Japans that is jus +slaughtering up the Chinese like they was nothin but dumb brutes. The +world is wickeder than it ever has been before.</p> + +<p>"The young people today! I'd hate to tell you what I do think of them. +The business is going to fall."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RumpleCasper"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Casper Rumple, De Valls Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I will be, providin' the good Lord spare me, 79 years old the first day +of January. I was born in Lawrence County, South Carolina. The Big road +was the dividing line between that and Edgefield County. My mother +belonged to John Griffin. His wife named Rebecca. My father was a +Irishman. Course he was a white man—Irishman. Show I did know him. He +didn't own no slaves. I don't guess he have any land. He was a overseer +in Edgefield County. His name was Ephraim Rumple. What become of him? He +went off to fight the Yankees and took Malaria fever and died on Red +River. I could show you bout where he died.</p> + +<p>"My mother had a big family. I can't tell you much bout them. I was the +youngest. She cooked up at John Griffins. He was a old man and the land +was all his wife's. She was old too. She had some grown girls. He had no +children. They called him Pa and I did too. I stayed round with him +nearly all the time helping him.</p> + +<p>"He had a room and she had a room. I slept on a bed—little +bed—home-made bed—in the room wid him and she slept in the room with +her two girls and my mother slept in the kitchen a whole heap so she be +there to get breakfast early. They riz early every mornin'. John +Griffins wife owned four plantations more than 160 acres in each one, +but I couldn't say how much.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a field hand in busy times too. Miss Rebecca had all the +slaves clothes made. She seed to that. She go to the city, Augusta, and +bring back bolts cloth. One slave sewed for Miss Rebecca and her family. +She didn't do all the sewing but she sewed all the time. One woman done +all the weavin'. At night after they work in the field Miss Rebecca give +em tasks—so many bats to card or so much spinnin' to do.</p> + +<p>"Master John didn't want em to work at night but she made em work all +the same. They b'long to her. Another thing the women had to do was work +in the garden. It was a three acre garden. They always had plenty in +thar. Had it palinged so the young chickens couldn't squeeze through the +cracks.</p> + +<p>"They had plenty stock and made all the fertilizer needed in the garden +and patches. They had goober patch, popcorn patch, sorghum patches, +several of em, pea patches but they was field cabbage patch and +watermellon patch. They had chicken house, goose house, duck house and +way off a turkey pen. It had a cover on it. They had to be cleaned and +all that manure moved to the garden and patches. Old man John Griffin +was a good man. Things went on pretty quiet bout the place. They had to +do their own cooking. They got for the grown ups 3 pounds meat, 1 +pk.[TR:?] meal a week. They fed the young chaps plenty so they wouldn't +get stunted. They keep em chunky till they get old nough to grow up tall +and that make big women and big men. They stunt em then when they start +runnin' up, it cause em to be low. The owners was mighty careful +(not)[HW: ?] to feed the chaps nough to eat so they make strong hands.</p> + +<p>"Men come long the road peddlin' from out the cities, men come long with +droves of horses and mules. They was called horse traders. Then once in +a while they come long tradin' and selling slaves. Nother way they sell +em was at public auction. Iffen a slave steal from another master, like +go in his smoke house or crib and steal, the sheriff have to whip him. +They would have public whippin'.</p> + +<p>"How'd they know was freedom? How'd they not know it was freedom? +Everybody went wild. They was jes' crazy cause they was free. Way I +knowd for certain it was freedom Mr. John Griffin had all the slaves +that hadn't done went off come to the house and he told them they was +all free. Some of em just started walking the roads till they nearly +starved. The government didn't start feeding the slaves till so many +nearly starved. My mother cooked on nearly a year. Then she went to work +for Vaughn in Edgefield County.</p> + +<p>"They didn't give them no land. The white folks was land pore.</p> + +<p>"They didn't have no money. When the masters had money they give the +slaves a little spending money. Nearly all the slaves had a little money +long. They get a pass to split rails for a neighbor and make money. That +was befo freedom. After freedom nobody had money but the Yankee +soldiers. They keep it closer than the folks you been livin' with.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Griffin, he was called General by all the young men. He was too old +to fight so he trained soldiers. He didn't wear a uniform but they did. +They met certain days every week. They wore gray uniforms.</p> + +<p>"They had a battle at Lawrence. It was 17 miles. The soldiers passed +long the Big road. I didn't see the battles. I heard plenty talk about +that conflict at Lawrence though.</p> + +<p>"I heard the slaves was goin' to get 40 acres and a mule. I tell you +they didn't wait to see if they was going to get another meal. They went +wild, walking and hooping up and down the road. They found out when they +nearly starved they had got the bad end of the game somehow. Then to +keep em from starvin' they had certain days to go to Lawrence and get a +little rations. Not much I tell you. They started stealin' and the Ku +Klux started up bout that.</p> + +<p>"The President got killed (Abraham Lincoln). Then they knowed the gig +was up. They had to go to work hard as ever and mighty little to eat. +The slaves did vote. It was the color of the paper they used way they +knowed how to vote. The Republican government had full sway 12 years. +All the offices at Edgefield nearly was Negroes cept the sheriff. The +Yankees tell em what to do way they knowed how. Butler went to Congress. +He was a Negro—(???). That was what the Ku Klux was mad bout. They run +the Yankees out and took holt of the offices soon as they could.</p> + +<p>"Our master had no Ku Klux comin' on our place. He protected us, It +wasn't no different than slavery till I was nearly grown and a drove was +walking going west to better place. I got in with them and come on. The +Ku Klux had killed several Negroes. That scared them all up. I remember +Tuscaloosa, Alabama when we cone through there. We was walking—a line a +mile long—marching and singing. They was building back in a hurry +seemed like to me. The town had been burned up. Some dropped out to get +work along. Some fell out sick. Some so weak they died long the road. +Had to keep up. Some stopped; they never caught up no more. Mostly old +folks or half starved folks couldn't keep going. The Ku Klux whoop and +shoot you down for any little thing. They started at night, fraid of the +Yankees but they whooped and run them out and the Negroes left. The Ku +Klux got so bold they didn't dress up nor go at night neither. At first +they was careful then they got bold. The Yankee soldiers bout all they +was afraid of. The Negroes found out who some of the Ku Klux was and +told the Yankees but it didn't do much good. After bout twelve years all +the Yankees gone back home. The white folks down in Carolina thought +bout as little of them as Negroes. They wouldn't let them have no land +if they did have money to pay any price for it. They didn't want them +living amongst them. They say they rether have a Negro family.</p> + +<p>"The biggest Negro uprisin' I ever seed was at freedom. They riz up in a +hurry.</p> + +<p>"I had to stop and work all along. I got to Arkansas in 1881. I never +went no further. I been all my life farmin'. I cut and sell wood, clear +land. The best living was when I farmed and sold wood. I bought a 10 +acre farm and cleared it up graduly, then I sold it fer $180.00 cause I +got blind and couldn't see to farm it. I had a house on it. I own this +here house (a splendid home). My daughter and her husband come to take +care me. They come from Cincinatti here. She made $15.00 a week up there +three years. I get $8.00 a month now from the Social Welfare. If I could +see I could make money.</p> + +<p>"I never seen times like this. Sin is causin' it. Unrest and +selfishness. No neighborly spirit. I don't bother no young folks. I +don't know how they will come out. If they caint get a big price they +won't work and the white folks are doing their own work, and don't help +like they did. I could get along if I could see. I had a light stroke +keeps me from talkin' good, I hear that."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RussellHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Russell, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My father's name was Ed Russell, and he was owned by Dr. Tom Russell, +de first pioneer settler of Russellville—de' man de town got its name +from.</p> + +<p>"My name is Henry, and some folks call me 'Bud.' I was born at Old +Dwight de 28th of October, 1866. Yes suh, dat date is correct.</p> + +<p>"I was too young to remember much about happenings soon after de War, +but I kin ricollect my father belongin' to de militia for awhile during +de Reconstruction days. Both Negroes and whites were members of de +militia.</p> + +<p>"My folks come here from Alabama, but I don't know much about them +except dat my grandmother, Charlotte Edwards, give me an old wash pot +dat has been in de family over one hundred years. Yes suh, it's out here +in de ya'd now. Also, I owns an old ax handle dat I keep down at de +store jist for a relic of old days. It's about a hundred years old, too.</p> + +<p>"My wife was Sallie Johnson of Little Rock, and she was a sister of Mrs. +Charley Mays, de barber you used to know, who was here sich a long time.</p> + +<p>"For a long time I worked at different kinds of odd jobs, sometimes in +de coal mines and sometimes on de farms, but for several years I've run +a little store for de colored folks here in Russellville. Ain't able to +do very much now.</p> + +<p>"I remember very well de first train dat was ever run into Russellville. +Must have been 68 or 69 years ago. A big crowd of people was here from +all over de country. Of course dere was only a few families living in de +town, and only one or two families of colored folks. People come in from +everywhere, and it was a great sign. Little old train was no bigger dan +de Dardanelle & Russellville train. (You remember de little old train +dey used to call de 'Dinkey' don't you?) Well, it wasn't no bigger dan +de Dinkey, and it didn't run into de depot at all, stopped down where de +dump is now. Sure was a sight. Lot of de folks was afraid and wouldn't +go near it, started to run when two men got off. I saw only two man +working in front of it, but I remember it very plain. Dey was working +with wheelbarrows and shovels to clear up de track ahead.</p> + +<p>"Another thing I remember as a boy was de 'sassination of President +Gyarfield. I can't read or write but very little, but I remember about +dat. It was a dull, foggy mornin', and I was crossin' de bayou with Big +Bob Smith. (You remember 'Big Bob' dat used to have the merry-go-'round +and made all de county fairs.) Well, he told me all about de killing of +de President. It was about 1881 wasn't it?</p> + +<p>"I think times was better in de old days because people was better. Had +a heap more honor in de old days dan dey have now. Not many young folks +today have much character.</p> + +<p>"All right. Come back again. Whenever I kin help you out any way, I'll +be glad to."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>NOTE:</b> Henry Russell is quite proud of the fact that his ancestors were +the first families of Russellville. He is a polite mulatto, uneducated, +and just enough brogue to lend the Southern flavor to his speech, but is +a fluent conversationalist.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="RyeKatie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Sallie C. Miller<br> +Person interviewed: Katie Rye, Clarksville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"We lived in Greenbrier, Faulkner County, Arkansas. All stayed at home +and got along very well. We had enough to eat and wear. Mistress was +awful mean to us but we stayed with them until after the war. After the +war master moved us off to another place he had and my father farmed for +his self, master and his pa and ma, and mistress' pa and ma. They awful +good to us, but mistress was so high tempered she would get mad and whip +some of the slaves but she never whipped any of us. She worried so over +the loss of her slaves after the war she went crazy. We had two white +grand pas and grand mas. We colored children called them grandpa and ma +and uncle and aunt like the white children did and we didn't know the +difference. The slaves was only allowed biscuit on Christmas and +sometimes on Sundays but we had beef and plenty of honey and everything +after we moved from the big house. Mistress used to come down to see us +an' my mother would cook dinner for her and master. He was such a +<u>good</u> man and the best doctor in the State. He would come in and +take the babies up (mother had nine children) and get them to sleep for +my mother. His mother would come to the kitchen and ask for a good cup +of coffee and mother would make it for her. The master and his family +were Northern people and my mother was given to the mistress by her +father and mother when she married.</p> + +<p>"After my father bought his own farm about ten miles from the big house, +father would put us all in an ox wagon and take us back to see our white +folks.</p> + +<p>"The mistress claimed to be a Christian and church member but I don't +see how she could have been she was so mean.</p> + +<p>"I think the present day generation mighty wicked. Seems like they get +worse instead of better, even the members of the church are not as good +as they used to be. They don't raise the children like they used to. +They used to go to Sunday School and church and take the children, now +the children do as they please, roam the streets. It is sad to see how +the parents are raising the children, just feed them and let them go. +The children rule the parents now.</p> + +<p>"We sang the old hymns and 'Dixie', 'Carry Me Back to Old Virginia', +'When You and I Were Young, Maggie'."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SamuelsBob"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Miss Hazel Horn<br> +ADDRESS—Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +DATE—Last of April, 1936<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slave</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p><b>Circumstances of Interview</b></p> +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Uncle Bob Samuels</b></big>, Washington, +Arkansas</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—Last of April, 1936</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—Washington, Arkansas</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant—J.C.W. Smith.</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—J.C.W. Smith</p> + +<p>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—Grandmother, Spanish; Grandfather, Negro; father, Negro.</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—Born about 1846</p> + +<p>3. Family—</p> + +<p>4. Places lived in, with dates—</p> + +<p>5. Education, with dates—</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—Tall and straight. He is blind. Clean in +appearance, dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has short, clean, +grey beard. Speaks with a clear accent.</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—Ancestors were in De Soto +expeditions.</p> + +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> + +<p>"From my mother's mother I learned that on my mother's side my ancestor +came with De Soto from Spain where she was educated at Madrid. From +Spain she came to Havana, Cuba, and from there to Tampa, Florida. From +Florida she came to some point in Alabama. From this place she came to +the Mississippi river and the East Bank and crossed where it is called +Gaines Landing. After they crossed the river they went ten kilometers +from there, traveled north from there to where Arkansas County is close +to the mouth of the Arkansas River. Here they camped awhile. When they +broke camp there they traveled northeast to Boiling Springs. Making +their way from here they crossed the Ouachita River on the other side of +Arkadelphia. They traveled on, crossing Little Missouri River below +Wallaceburg. Here they found some Indian mounds. Then they traveled on a +trail from there to Washington, turned into Washington and took a trail +toward Columbus and turned off to the right (Uncle Bob not sure of the +name of this trail) and crossed what is known as Beard's Lake. They +crossed Little River at Ward's Ferry and crossed the Saline river. +Traveling northwest they reached White Oak shoals where Index is now and +crossed over into what was Mexico and traveled to a place called Kawaki +located where [TR: ?] now is.</p> + +<p>"After camping here for a while they came back into Arkansas to some +point near Rando, crossed Red River at Dooley's Ferry, went to Coola +Fabra(?) and back to Boiling Springs. [Here a gold mine was found and a +quarrel ensued, and in a fight De Soto was killed.] They carried his +body overland and buried him in the Mississippi River between +Grensville[HW:sp.] and Vicksburg. [TR: Moved from end of interview: De +Soto was buried at the junction of the Mississippi and [??] Rivers, +about 100 miles south of Vicksburg.] The remaining forces of the +expedition returned to Spain.</p> + +<p>"Sometime in 1816 my mother's mother was born. My mother's mother was +Spanish. My mother says she was well educated. Mother and her mother +have Spanish mixed with Negro blood. I had a sister named Mary and a +brother named John.</p> + +<p>"Armarilla, my grandmother came here from Cuba through to Gaines +Landing. Her son Edmin and her husband were with her. They crossed the +Mississippi River and she said they stopped at the old De Soto camp. A +short distance west of this place they met two men—Nick Trammel and +John Morrow who profitted (dealt) in Negro slaves. My grandfather and +mother employed these men to guide them to Coola Fabre(?) Camden?. From +Little River to Dooley's Ferry these men carried them to Waco, Texas. +They killed my grandfather and kept my grandmother forcing her to marry +either a half-breed Mexican, an Indian or a Negro. It was near Waco in +Hickman[HW:sp.] Prairie that mother was born. The boy Edmin was returned +to Dooley's Ferry and remained in the vicinity until he was about +seventeen years of age. He then lived in the vicinity of Little Rock +about six months before returning to Mexico. My grandmother said that +Mr. Trammel and Mr. Morrow probably thought he might cause trouble and +killed him as she never saw him after he returned from Little Rock. +Mother was held in Lafayette County at a point where the river crossed +and joined Bowie County (Texas) and where Louisiana bounded the south.</p> + +<p>"De Soto traveled by land, not by boat. He had a force of about 550 +persons. The women dressed as men. My grandmother was with her husband.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a slave. She was held in Bowie County, Hickens[HW:sp.] +Prairie, by Bob Trammel. They kept her locked up and I have heard mother +say that she used whale bone, card bats and a spinning wheel. Finally +they got so hot behind the Trammels in 1847-48, they pulled up stakes +and went down on the Guadalupe River and carried my mother's mother down +there. Before they left Dave Block went on Trammel's bond and got my +mother. He made my mother head housekeeper slave. She had been taught +Spanish. She was tall and fair with straight black hair. She was married +to Dick Samuels, my father.</p> + +<p>"After the war my father was elected [HW: Hempstead] County Clerk in +1872 on the Republican ticket. He could neither read nor write, so was +clerk in name only securing one of the white men to attend to the +office. By trade he was a blacksmith."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Uncle Bob Samuels is the son of Richard Samuels and Mary. He was a slave +of David Block. After freedom he came to Little Rock with a sister and a +brother, John. Uncle Bob said he often heard his mother speak of a gold +mine. She had a trunk of maps and charts which her mother had given to +her. In this was supposed to be the papers regarding De Soto's legendary +gold mine. The trunk had been lost as Uncle Bob has no idea where the +gold mine is. He tells the story the same way, never varying a point. He +does not claim to remember Indian trails or names.</p> + +<p>Uncle Bob is tall and straight. He is blind. Was clean in appearance +dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has a short, clean grey beard. He +talks with a clear accent, no Negro accent. During Reconstruction days +he served as County Clerk of Hempstead County under Carpetbaggar rule. +During those days he was a political power to be reckoned with. He was a +national as well as a state figure in the "Lily White Republican" +organization. [His wife was a Negro, good looking, but showed little +trace of much white blood.]</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SandersonEmma"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person Interviewed: Emma Sanderson<br> +Home: 617 Wade Street, Hot Springs.<br> +Aged: 75</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Emma Sanderson"—"Wade Street". That was all the prospective +interviewer could learn. "Emma Sanderson—ex-slave!" "Wade Street"—"Why +it's way off that way. You go sort of thatta way, and then thatta way."</p> + +<p>A city map disclosed no Wade Street. Maps belonging to a local +abstractor helped not a whit. "Insurance maps are in more detail." +someone advised, "Wade Street," mused the young woman at the desk, "I've +heard of it. We have written a policy for someone there." The head of +the department was new to the city, but he was eager to help. After +about five minutes search—from wall maps to bound volumes of blocks and +back again it appeared that "Wade Street" more frequently known as +"Washington Street" meanders wanderingly from Silver Street, in the +colored section out to the "Gorge addition" inhabited by low economic +level whites.</p> + +<p>Down Malvern Avenue (Hot springs' Beale Street) went the interviewer. On +she went past the offices of a large Chicago packing house. For better +then a block she trudged by dilapidated shops which a few seasons back +had housed one of the key transient centers of the U.S.A. Down the +street she walked, pausing for a moment to note that coffee colored +faces decorated the placards in the beauty shop window—two well groomed +mulatto girls sitting inside, evidently operators. Her course took her +past sandwich joints and pool halls. Nails, she noted as she drifted +along, had been driven into the projection beneath the plate glass +window of the brick bank (closed during the depression—a building and +bank built, owned and operated by negro capital) to keep loungers away. +The colored theater (negroes are admitted only to the balconies of +theaters in Hot Springs—one section of the balcony at the legitimate +theater) she noticed was now serving as a religious gathering place. The +well built and excellently maintained Pythian Bath house (where the hot +waters are made available to colored folk) with the Alice Eve Hospital +(45 beds, 5 nurses, 2 resident physicians—negro doctors thruout the +town cooperating—surgical work a specialty) stood out in quiet dignity. +For the rest, buildings were an indiscriminate hodge-podge of homes, +apartment houses, shacks, and chain groceries. At the corner where "the +street turns white" the interviewer turned east.</p> + +<p>The Langston High School (for colored—with a reputation for turning out +good cooks, football players and academicians) stands on Silver Street. +A few paces from the building the interviewer met a couple of plump +colored women laughing and talking loudly.</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," was her greeting, "can you tell me where Wade +Street is?" They could and did. They were so frankly interested in +knowing why the white women wanted Emma Sanderson that she told them her +mission. They were not taken aback—there was no servility—no +resentment they were frankly charmed with the idea. Their directions for +finding Mrs. Sanderson became even more explicit.</p> + +<p>When the proper turn off was found the question of Wade versus +Washington Street was settled. A topsy-turvy sign at the intersection +announced that Wade Street was ahead. Emma Sanderson's grandson lived a +couple of blocks down the road.</p> + +<p>Only the fact that she could hear someone inside moving about kept the +interviewer hammering on the door. Finally she was rewarded by a voice. +"Is that somebody a' knockin'?" In a moment the door opened. The +question, "Were you a slave" no matter how delicately put is a difficult +one to ask, but Mrs. Sanderson was helpful, if doubtful that her story +would do much good. "I was just so little when it all happened." But the +interviewer was invited in and placed in a chair near the fire.</p> + +<p>"No ma'am. He ain't my grandson—I's the third grandmother. No son, you +ain't three—you's five. Don't you remember what I told you? Yes, he +stays with me, ma'am. I take care of him while the rest of 'em works.</p> + +<p>"It's hard for me to remember. I was just so little. Yes, ma'am, I was +born a slave—but I was so little. Seems to me like I remember a big, +big house. We was sort of out in the country---out from Memphis. I know +there was my father and my mother and my uncles and my aunts. I know +there was that many. How many more of us old man Doc Walker had—I just +don't know. They must have took good care of us tho. My mother was a +house nigrah.</p> + +<p>"When the war was ready to quit they gave us our pick. We could stay on +and work for wages or we could go. The folks decided that the'd go on in +to Memphis. My Mother and Father didn't live together none after we went +to town. First I lived with Mother and then when she died my Father took +me. My mother died when I was 9. She worked at cooking and washing. When +I was big enough I went to school. I kept on going to school after my +Father took me. He died when I was about 15. By that time I was old +enough to look out after myself.</p> + +<p>"What did I do? I stayed in folkses houses. I cooked and I washed. Then +when I was about 16, I married. After that I had a man to take care of +me. He was a carpenter.</p> + +<p>"We been here in Hot Springs a long time—you maybe heared of +Sanderson—he took up platering and he was good too. How long I been in +Hot Springs—law I don't know—'cept I was a full grown women when we +come.</p> + +<p>"I's had four children—all of 'em is dead. I lives with my grandson. +The little fellow, he'll be old enough to go to school in a year or two. +A dime for him ma'am—an' 2 cents besides? Now son you keep the dime and +you can spend the pennies. I always tries to teach him to save. Then +when he gets big he'll know what to do."</p> + +<p>Dining room and living room joined one another by means of a high and +wide arch. The stove was sensibly set up in this passage. Both rooms +were comfortably furnished with products which had in all probability +been bought new. The child stood close by thruout the entire +conversation. There was no whit of timidity about him, nor was he the +least impertinent. He was frankly interested and wanted to know what was +being said. He received the dime and the pennies with a pleasant grin +and a (grandmother prompted) "Thank you". But the gift didn't startle +him. Dimes must have been a fairly usual part of his life. But a few +minutes before the interviewer left she dropped her pencil. It was new +and long and yellow. The child's eyes clung to it as he returned it. +"Would you like to have it." the young woman asked, "would you like a +pencil of your very own, to draw with?" Would he! The child's whole face +beamed. Dimes were as nothing compared to shiney new pencils. The third +grandchild was overjoyed with his new plaything. Ella Sanderson was +delighted with her great grandchild's pleasure. The interviewer received +a warm and friendly "Good-bye".</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ScottMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Mary Scott<br> + DeValls Bluff or Biscoe<br> +Age:</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I said if ever I seed you agin I'd show you dis here scar on my head. +See here [a puffed-out, black, rusty, not quite round place, where no +hair grew]. Dat dar what my young mistress put on me when I was a chile. +Dock Hardy hired me. He was rich and married a pore gal. It went to her +head. He was good to me. She was mean. She had him whoop me a time or +two for nothin'. They had two little babies, I stayed round wid. I loved +em. I churned, brought in all the wood mighty near, brought bout all the +water from the spring. Master Dock be coming horseback from Franklin, +Tennessee. I knowed bout time I take the babies to meet him. He'd wait +at a big stump we could climb on his horse, take the baby in front and +us up behind him, and put us off on the back piazza at the house. I +wrapped up the churn and quit. She ax me what I quit churnin' for. I say +the butter come. She say it ain't had time. I say it ready to take up +anyhow. She got so mad she throwed a stick of stove wood, hit me on my +head. I run out crying, the blood streamin' down. I started to the +spring, come back and got the water bucket. I got me some water and +brought back a fresh bucket full. I washed my head in cool water where +it was bleedin'. It bled all way back. She say, 'Where you been?' I say +I been to the spring, brought some cool water to the babies. I give em +some I told her. When I got water I always give them some. She took the +bucket, made me go wid her, poured the water out in the path under a +shade tree, and made me take 'nother bucketful home. I thought she was +so mean; I didn't know what she was doing that about. Got to the house +she put me on a clean chemisette. I slipped off down to the feed house, +lay down, my head on the cotton seeds, and went to sleep.</p> + +<p>"When Master Dock come he woke me up, wanted to know why I didn't meet +him. He seen that blood. Went on to the house. He ask her what done my +head that way. She say, 'She went to the spring, fell down, spilled the +water, and hurt it on a rock.' I told him that wasn't so—not so! I told +him all bout it. He told her she ought to be 'shamed treat good little +nigger chap mean. He was so sorry for me. She didn't care. They had been +goin' to old missis house every week. It was three weeks 'fo she would +go. I got to see my mama, 'fo she died.</p> + +<p>"Old Mistress Emily was a doctor woman. Dock told her, 'Mama, Scrubbs +jumps and screams bout a hour late every evening wid her head.' When it +got late it hurt and I screamed and jump up and down. Mistress Emily +come got me in her arms, put me to sleep. When I woke up Dock and Kitty +gone home with the babies. I cried bout being from the babies; I loved +em, never been away from em 'fo. She got three maggots and says, +'Scrubbs, see what I got out your little head.' Mama had died then. She +say, 'Your mama would want me to keep you here wid me.' She kept me till +it healed up. Them maggots big as a sage broom straw. We swept the floor +wid sage straw tied together then. Mistress Emily kept me a month with +her and doctored my head every day. I slept on a pallet and on a little +bed she had in the room. When I went back to Kitty's she wasn't as mean +to me as she been—but mean nough then.</p> + +<p>"My mama named Amy Hardy. She had five boys, three girls. She died with +a young baby. I reckon they had different papas. I was my papa's only +chile. They all said that. Bout a month after I went to Dock and +Kitty's, it was surrender. He (the little Negro girl's father) come, +stayed all night, and took me wid him to live. Dock wanted me to stay; I +love Dock and the children. Every year till a few years ago my head get +sore and run. We tried all kinds medicine on it. Don't know what cured +it.</p> + +<p>"The week 'fo I left there I had a task to make a cut of thread every +night, a reel. When I heard papa was coming to git me, I put cotton bats +under the reels and kivered em up. Good thing papa got me—Kitty would +killed me when she went to spin next week. She been so mean why I done +that way.</p> + +<p>"They never sold any of our set but some on the place was sold. The +mothers grieve and grieve over their children bein' sold. Some white +folks let their slaves have preachin', some wouldn't. We had a bush +arbor and set on big logs. Children set round on the ground. 'Fo freedom +I never went to preachin'. I kept Kitty's babies so she went. Mothers +didn't see their children much after they was sold.</p> + +<p>"Fo freedom they would turn a wash pot upside-down at the door and have +singin' and prayer meetin'. The pot would take up the noise. They done +that when they danced too. I don't know how they found out the iron pot +would take up the noise. They had plenty of em settin' round in them +days. Somebody found it out and passed it on."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="ScottMollieHardy"></a> +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mollie Hardy Scott, R.F.D., DeValls Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 90</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born at Granville, Georgia in Franklin County. I don't know my +age cept I was big enough to plow when young master lef and went to war. +My mother died bout time the war started. We belonged to Miss Eliza and +Master Jim Hardy. He had two boys bout grown, Jim and John. My father +belong to the Linzys. I don't know nuthin much bout them nor him +neither. When the war was done he come and got me and we went to Barton +County, Georgia. When I lef they give me my feather bed, two good +coverlets and my clothes. White folks hated fo me to leave. We all cried +but I never seen em no more. They said he take me off and let me suffer +or die or something. I was all the child my father had but my mother had +ten children I knowed of. We all lived on the place. They lived in a +little log house and I stayed wid em some an up at white folks house +mostly. No I never seed my folks no more. We had plenty to eat. Had meat +and garden stuff. We had pot full of lye hominy. It last several days. +It was good. I seed em open up a pot full of boiled corn-on-the-cob. +Plenty milk and butter. We had wash pot full of collards or turnip +salad. Maybe a few turnips on top and a big piece of fresh meat. We had +plenty to eat and wear long as I lived wid the white folks. We had +goobers, molasses candy to pull and pop corn every now and then. They +fill all the pockets, set around the fire an eat at night. Sometimes we +bake eggs and sweet potatoes, cracklin hoe cake covered up in the ashes. +Bake apples in front of the fire on de hearth. Everybody did work an we +sho had plenty to eat an wear.</p> + +<p>"I had plenty when I stayed at my father's an we worked together all the +time. When he died I married. I've had a hard time not able to work. +There ain't no hard time if yous able to get bout. I pieces quilts an +sells em now. Sells em if I can. For $150 piece (has no idea of money +value). Some women promissed to come git 'em but they ain't come yet. I +wanter buy me some shoes. I could do a heap if they send fo me. I can +nurse. I kept a woman's children when she teached last year (Negro +woman's children).</p> + +<p>"I brought four or five when I come to Arkansas of my own. They all dead +but my one girl I lives wid.</p> + +<p>"Seemed lack so many colored folks coming out West to do better. We +thought we come too. We come on immigrate ticket on the train. All the +people I worked for was Captain Williams, Dr. Givens. Mr. Richardson +right where Mesa is now but they called it 88 then (88 miles from +Memphis). Mr. Gates. I farmed, washed and ironed. I nursed some since +I'm not able to get about in the field. I never owned nothing. They run +us from one year till the next and at the end of the year they say we +owe it bout all. If we did have a good crop we never could get ahead. We +couldn't get ahead nuff not to have to be furnished the next year. We +did work but we never could get ahead. If a darky sass a white land +owner he would be whooped bout his account or bout anything else. Yes +siree right here in dis here county. Darky have to take what the white +folks leave fo em and be glad he's livin.</p> + +<p>"I say I ain't never voted. Whut in de world I would want er vote for? +Let em vote if they think it do em good.</p> + +<p>"I seen a whole gang of Ku Kluxes heap of times when I was little back +in Georgia. I seed paddyrollers and then they quit and at night the Ku +Kluxes rode by. They would whoop or shoot you either if you didn't tend +to yo own business and stay at home at night. They kept black and white +doing right I tell you. I sho was afraid of them but they didn't bother +us. If you be good whose ever place you lives on would keep 'em from +harmin you. They soon got all the bad Yankies ran back North from +Georgia. They whip the black men and women too but it was mostly the men +they watched and heap of it was for stealing. Folks was hungry. Couldn't +help stealin if they seed anything. I seed heap of folks having a mighty +hard time after the war in them restruction (Reconstruction) days. I was +lucky.</p> + +<p>"My daughter would do mo than she do fo me but she is a large woman and +had both her legs broke. They hurt her so bad it is hard fo her to do +much. She good as she can be to everybody. The Welfare give three of us +$10.00 a month (daughter, husband, and Mollie). We mighty glad to get +that. We sho is. I am willin to work if I could get work I could do. +That's my worst trouble. Like I tell you, I can nurse and wash dishes if +I could get the jobs.</p> + +<p>"I don't see much of the real young folks. I don't know what they are +doing much. If a fellow is able he ought to be able to do good now if he +can get out and go hunt up work fo himself. That the way it look like. I +don't know."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ScottSam"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Sam Scott, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Hello dar, Mistah L----! Don' you dare pass by widout speakin' to dis +old niggah friend of yo' chil'hood! No suh! Yuh can't git too big to +speak to me!</p> + +<p>"Reckon you've seen about all dar is to see in de worl' since I seen +you, ain't you? Well, mos' all de old-time niggahs and whites is both +gone now. I was born on de twentieth of July, 1879. Count up—dat makes +me 79 (born 1859), don't it? My daddy's name was Sam, same as mine, and +mammy's was Mollie. Dey was slaves on de plantation of Capt. Scott—yes +suh, Capt. John R. Homer Scott—at Dover. My name is Sam, same as my +father's, of course. Everybody in de old days knowed Sam Scott. My +father died in slavery times, but mother lived several years after.</p> + +<p>"No, I never did dance, but I sure could play baseball and make de home +runs! My main hobby, as you calls it, was de show business. You remember +de niggah minstrels we used to put on. I was always stage manager and +could sing baritone a little. Ed Williamson and Tom Nick was de +principal dancers, and Tom would make up all de plays. What? Stole a +unifawm coat of yours? Why, I never knowed Tom to do anything like that! +Anyway, he was a good-hearted niggah—but you dunno what he might do. +Yes, I still takes out a show occasionally to de towns around Pope and +Yell and Johnson counties, and folks treat us mighty fine. Big +crowds—played to $47.00 clear money at Clarksville. Usually take about +eight and ten in our comp'ny, boys and gals—and we give em a real hot +minstrel show.</p> + +<p>"De old show days? Never kin forgit em! I was stage manager of de old +opery house here, you remember, for ten years, and worked around de old +printin' office downstairs for seven years. No, I don't mean stage +manager—I mean property man—yes, had to rustle de props. And did we +have road shows dem days! Richards & Pringle's Georgia minstrels, de +Nashville students, Lyman Twins, Barlow Brothers Minstrels, and—oh, +ever so many more—yes, Daisy, de Missouri Girl, wid Fred Raymond. Never +kin forgit old black Billy Kersands, wid his mouf a mile wide!</p> + +<p>"De songs we used to sing in old days when I was a kid after de War +wasn't no purtier dan what we used to sing wid our own minstrel show +when we was at our best twenty-five and thirty years ago; songs like +'Jungletown,' 'Red Wing,' and 'Mammy's Li'l Alabama Coon.' Our circuit +used to be around Holla Bend, Dover, Danville, Ola, Charleston, Nigger +Ridge, out from Pottsville, and we usually starred off at the old opery +house in Russellville, of course.</p> + +<p>"I been married, but ain't married now. We couldn't git along somehow. +Yes suh, I been right here workin' stiddy for a long time. Been janitor +at two or three places same time; was janitor of de senior high school +here for twenty-two years, and at de Bank of Russellville twenty-nine +years.</p> + +<p>"Folks always been mighty nice to me—and no slave ever had a finer +master dan old Captain Scott.</p> + +<p>"In de old show days de manager of de opery always said. 'Let de niggers +see de show,' and sometimes de house was half full of colored +folks—white folks on one side de house and niggahs on de other—and +dere never was any disturbance of any kind. Ain't no sich good times now +as we had in de old road show days. No suh!"</p> +<br> + +<p><b>NOTE:</b> Sam Scott, who has been personally known to the interviewer for +many years, is above the average of the race for integrity and +truthfulness. His statement that he was born a few years after slavery +and that his father died during slavery was not questioned the matter +being a delicate personal affair and of no special moment.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="ScrogginsCora"></a> +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Cora Scroggins, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> +Age: 48 or 50</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My mother was born in Spring Hill, Tennessee and brought to Arkansas by +her master. Her name was Margaret. Dr. and Mrs. Porter brought my mother +to Batesville, Arkansas when she was eight years old and raised her. She +was very light. She had long straight hair but was mixed with white. She +never knew much about her parents or people.</p> + +<p>"Mr. William Brook (white) came to De Valls Bluff from Tennessee and +brought her sister soon after the War. She was a very black woman.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Porter had a family. One of their daughters was Mrs. Mattie Long, +another Mrs. Willie Bowens. There were others. They were all fine to my +mother. She married in Dr. Porter's home. Mrs. Porter had learnt her to +sew. My father was a mechanic. My mother sewed for both black and white. +She was a fine dressmaker. She had eight children and raised six of us +up grown.</p> + +<p>"My father was a tall rawbony brown man. His mother was an Indian squaw. +She lived to be one hundred seven years old. She lived about with her +children. The white folks all called her 'Aunt Matildy' Tucker. She was +a small woman, long hair and high cheek bones. She wore a shawl big as a +sheet purty nigh all time and smoked a pipe. I was born in Batesville.</p> + +<p>"My mother spoke of her one long journey on the steamboat and +stagecoach. That was when she was brought to Arkansas. It made a +memorable picture in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Dr. and Mrs. Porter told her she was free and she could go or stay. And +she had nowheres to go and she had always lived with them white folks. +She never did like black folks' ways and she raised us near like she was +raised as she could.</p> + +<p>"She used to tell us how funny they dressed and how they rode at night +all through the country. She seen them and she could name men acted as +Ku Kluxes but they never bothered her and she wasn't afraid of them.</p> + +<p>"I cooked all my life till I got disabled. I never had a child. I wish I +had a girl. I've been considered a fine cook all of my life."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SextonSarah"></a> +<h3>STATE— Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER— Bernice Bowden<br> +ADDRESS— 1006 Oak Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +DATE— November 4, 1938<br> +SUBJECT— Ex-slaves</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p><b>Circumstances of Interview</b></p> + +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Sarah Sexton</b></big>, Route 4, Box 685, Pine +Bluff</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—November 3, 1958, 10:00 a.m.</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—Route 4, Box 685, Pine Bluff, Arkansas</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant—Georgia Caldwell, Route 6, Box 128, Pine Bluff, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—None.</p> + +<p>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.—Frame house, front +porch with two swings. Fence around yard. Chinaberry tree and Tree of +Paradise, Coxcomb in yard. Southeast of Norton-Wheeler Stave Mill just +off Highway 65.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview</b></p> + +<p>"Prewitt Tiller bought my mother and I belonged to young master. In +slavery I was a good-sized-young girl, mama said. Big enough to put the +table cloths on the best I could. After freedom I did all the cookin' +and milkin' and washin'.</p> + +<p>"Now listen, this young master was Prewitt's son.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa's name was Ned Peeples and grandma was Sally Peeples. My mother +was Dorcas. Well, my papa, I ain't never seed him but his name was Josh +Allen. You see, they just sold 'em around. That's what I'm talkin' +about—they went by the name of their owners.</p> + +<p>"I'm seventy-eight or seventy-nine or eighty. That's what the insurance +man got me up.</p> + +<p>"I been in a car wreck and I had high blood pressure and a stroke all at +once. And that wreck, the doctor said it cracked my skull. Till now, I +ain't got no remembrance.</p> + +<p>"You know how long I went to school? Three days. No ma'm I had to work, +darlin'.</p> + +<p>"I was born down here on Saline River at Selma. I done forgot what +month."</p> + +<p>"What kinda work have I done? Oh, honey, I done farmed myself to death, +darlin'. You know Buck Couch down here at Noble Lake? Well, I hoped pick +out eight bales of cotton for him.</p> + +<p>"I wish I had the dollars I had workin' for R.A. Pickens down here at +Walnut Lake. Yes, honey, I farmed for him bout fifteen or twenty years +steady.</p> + +<p>"And he sure was nice and he was mischievous. He called all of us his +chillun. He use to say, 'Now you must mind your papa!' And we'd say 'Now +Mr. Pickens, you know you ain't got no nigger chillun'. He use to say to +me 'Sallie, you is a good woman but you ain't got no sense'. Them was +fine white folks.</p> + +<p>"Honey, these white folks round here what knows me, knows they ain't a +lazy bone in my body.</p> + +<p>"I'se cooked and washed and ironed and I'se housecleaned. Yes'm, I +certainly was a good cook.</p> + +<p>"I belongs to the Palestine Baptist Church. Yes ma'm. I don't know what +I'd do if twasn't for the good Master. I talks to Him all the time.</p> + +<p>"I goes to this here government school. A man teaches it. I don't know +what his name is, we just calls him Professor.</p> + +<p>"Well, chile, I'll tell you the truf. These young folks is done gone. +And some o' these white headed women goes up here truckin'. It's a sin +and a shame. I don't know what's gwine come of 'em."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>This woman lives with her daughter Angelina Moore who owns her home.</p> + +<p>Mother and daughter both attend government school. Both were neatly +dressed. The day was warm so we sat on the front porch during the +interview.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—Grandfather, Ned Peeples; grandmother, Sally Peeples; +Mother, Dorcas Peeples; Father, Josh Allen.</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—On Saline River, Selma, Arkansas. No date.</p> + +<p>3. Family—Two daughters and granddaughter.</p> + +<p>4. Places lived in, with dates—Desha County, Walnut Lake, Noble Lake, +(Arkansas) Poplar Bluff, Missouri. No dates.</p> + +<p>5. Education, with dates—Three days, "after freedom". Attends +government school now.</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—Farmwork, cooking, +laundry work until 1936.</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—Cooking.</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—Member of Palestine Baptist +Church.</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—Medium height, plump, light complexion and +gray hair.</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—Injured in auto wreck seven years +ago.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ShaverRoberta"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Roberta Shaver, West Memphis, Arkansas<br> +Age: 50</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born close to Natchez, Mississippi. Grandma was sold at Wickerson +County, Mississippi. They took her in a wagon to Jackson, Tennessee. She +was mother of two children. They took them. She was part Indian. She was +a farm woman. Her name was Dicy Jackson. They sold her away from the +Jacksons to Dobbins. She was a house woman in Jackson, Tennessee. She +said they was good to her in Tennessee. Grandma never was hit a lick in +slavery. Grandpa was whooped a time or two. He run off to the woods for +weeks and come back starved. He tended to the stock and drove Master +Clayton around. He was carriage driver when they wanted to go places.</p> + +<p>"After freedom grandma set out to get back to grandpa. Walked and rode +too I reckon. She brought her children back. After a absence of five +years she and grandpa went back together. They met at Natchez, +Mississippi. Mama was born after freedom.</p> + +<p>"The way grandma said she was sold was, a strange man come there one day +and the master had certain ones he would sell stand in a line and this +strange man picked out the ones he wanted and had them get their +belongings and put them in the wagon and took them on off. She never +seen grandpa for five years."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ShawMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Shaw<br> + 1118 Palm Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77<br> +Occupation: Laundry work</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Bolivar County, Mississippi. My mother didn't know how +old I was but after freedom I went by Miss Ann Blanchet's—that was my +mother's old missis—and she said I was born in 1861.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know nothin' 'bout slavery or the War. I was born and bred +in the desert and my mother said it was a long time after freedom 'fore +she knowed anything about it. She said there was just lots of the folks +said, to their knowin', they had been free three years 'fore they knowed +anything about it.</p> + +<p>"My husband brought me to Arkansas when I was 35 and I been workin' in +the same family, Captain Jeter's family, ever since-forty odd years.</p> + +<p>"I always have worked hard. I've had the flu only reason I'm sittin' +here now. If I had to sit and hold my hands very long, they'd have to +take me to Little Rock.</p> + +<p>"I been married twice. My last husband was Sam Shaw. He was a great +whiskey man and when whiskey went out, he went to bootleggin' and they +got behind him and he left.</p> + +<p>"He wrote me once and said if I'd borrow some money on my home and send +it to him, he'd come back. I wrote and told him just like I'm tellin' +you that after I had worked night and day to pay for this house while he +was off tellin' some other woman lies just like he told me, I wasn't +goin' to send him money. So I ain't seen him since.</p> + +<p>"I ain't never been to school much. When schools got numerous in +Mississippi they had me behind a plow handle.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jeter made me mad once and I quit. My first husband was a porter +on the railroad and I got on the train and went to Memphis with him.</p> + +<p>"One time he come back from a trip to Pine Bluff and handed me a little +package. I opened it and it was a note from Mrs. Jeter and a piece of +corn bread. She said, 'Now, Mary, you see what I've had to eat. I want +you to come back.' So I went back and stayed 'til she died. And now I'm +workin' for her daughter, Mrs. McEwen. Mrs. Jeter used to say, 'Mary, I +know you're not a Arkansas woman 'cause you ain't got a lazy bone in +your body.'"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="ShawViolet"></a> +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Violet Shaw, West Memphis, Arkansas<br> +Age: 50</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I heard Grandma Katie Williams say she was put up on a high stump and +auctioned off. She told how great-grandma cried and cried and never seen +her no more. Grandma come from Oakland, Tennessee to Mississippi. +Grandma took the two young children and left the other two with +great-grandma. They took her from her husband. She never seen none of +them again.</p> + +<p>"After freedom she didn't know how to find them. She never could get +trace of them. She tried. She never married no more. I was born at +Clarksdale, Mississippi. I have seen Tom Pernell (white), the young +master, come and spend the night with Henry Pernell. Henry had once been +Tom's father's slave and carriage driver. I was too small to know the +cause but I remember that several times mighty well. They fixed him up a +clean bed by hisself. Henry lived in town. But he might have been drunk. +I never seen no misbehavior out of him. It was strange to me to see +that.</p> + +<p>"Freedom—Aunt Mariah Jackson was freed at Dublin, Mississippi. She said +she was out in the field working. A great big white man come, jumped up +on a log and shouted, 'Freedom! Freedom!' They let the log they was +toting down; six, three on a side, had holt of a hand stick toting a +long heavy log. They was clearing up new ground. He told them they was +free. They went to the house. They cooked and et and thanked God. Some +got down and prayed, some sung. They had a time that day. They got the +banjo and fiddle and set out playing. Some got in the big road just +walking. She said they had a time that day."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SheltonFrederick"></a> +<h3>Texarkana District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave<br> +<br> +This information given by: Frederick Shelton<br> +Place of Residence: Dump Section, Texarkana, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: None<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p>In an humble cabin on the outskirts of the city lives a venerable old +negro ex-slave. Although bent with rheumatism and age, he still retains +his mental faculties to a remarkable degree.</p> + +<p>An inquiry as to his health elicited the following reply: "I'se a +willful mind but a weak body. Just like an old tree—de limbs are +withered and almost dead. I'se been here a long tins, ovah 81 years, and +am ready to go any time de good Lawd says de word. Dat's de trouble wid +de people nowadays—dey ain't prepared. Back when I wuz a young man, dey +wuzn 't so much meaness, and such goings on as dey are nowadays. De +young-peple know as much as de old folks. Yas, suh, de worl' am goin' to +de dogs."</p> + +<p>Asked about life in pioneer days, the old negro replied; "We had lots ob +good times in dem days. Log rollings wuz lots ob fun to me as I wuz +strong den, an' I could "show off" befo' de odder niggers. Dey wuzn't +much rollin' to it, mostly carrying. I mind de time when I lifted de end +ob a log, an' four men tried at different times to lift de odder, but +dey couldn't do it. Three of dese men went to an early grave from trying +to lift dis log—all tore up inside. Maybe dat's whut ails me.</p> + +<p>"You had to be careful den, when traveling through de woods, or de +varmints would git you, especially at night. I mind de time when a negro +wuz comin' through de woods one nite, when he seed a panther about to +spring on him.</p> + +<p>"Dis nigger dropped in his tracks lack he wuz dead. De panther came up to +him and smelled ob him, but de nigger held his breath, and de panther +thought he wuz dead. De panther covered him wid leaves an' went about +one hundred yards into de woods to call his friends to de feast. No +sooner had he left when de nigger jumped up and climbed a tree, first +rutting an old chunk of wood in de place where he wuz buried. De nigger +could hear de panther out in de woods as he called for his friends, and +pretty soon, here dey come, about five of 'em. Slowly circling aroun' de +place where de nigger had been, all of a sudden dey all jumped. Findin' +nothin' but de old chunk of wood, dem panthers got real mad. Wid angry +growls, dey jumped on de one whut had called dem, and ate him up."</p> + +<p>This old negro reserves all of the heroic roles for others. Asked if he +had had any experience with the "varmints", as he termed them he said: +"Yas, suh. De worst scared I ever got wuz frum a wolf. Walkin' down a +trail one day, I spied a wolf not more than ten feet away. Man, I wuz so +scared dat I seemed to freeze in my tracks, and couldn't move. I tried +to holler but all I could do wuz croak. Den I tried to whistle but de +only sound I could make wuz a hiss. After standing for whut seemed +hours, wid his ears sticking straight up, de wolf finally turned around +and trotted away."</p> + +<p>The conversation drifted to other topics, and finally to ghosts and +spirits. The old negro said he had never seen a ghost, and didn't +believe in those things. No sooner had he said this when his wife, who +had been listening in on the conversation from the inside of the door +exclaimed: "I does! Seein' is believin' aint it? Well suh, about two +years ago de negro dat lived next door died. A few weeks after he died I +wuz settin' out on de porch when I see dis negro come out of de house, +and walk slowly to de corner of mah yard where he vanished into de air. +A few nights later de same thing happened again. No suh, dat nigger +didn't go to Heaven and he didn't go to Hell. He's still around heah. He +wuz a wicked negro and wuz scared to go."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SheltonLaura"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Samuel S. Taylor<br> +ADDRESS—Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +DATE—December, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slave</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p><b>Circumstances of interview</b></p> +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Laura Shelton</b></big>, 1518 Pulaski Street, +Little Rock, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview interview—</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—1518 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any who put you in touch with +informant—</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—</p> + +<p>Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.—</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—mother, Susan Barnett; father, Ben Bearden; grandfather, +Harvey Barnett.</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—Arkansas, 1878</p> + +<p>3. Family—Three children.</p> + +<p>4. Education, with dates—</p> + +<p>5. Places lived in with dates—Jerome, Arkansas and Little Rock. No +dates.</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—Farmed, wash and iron.</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—Belongs to Baptist Church.</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—</p> + +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> + +<p>"My mother used to sit down and talk to us and tell us about slavery. If +she had died when I was young I wouldn't have known much. But by her +living till I was old, I learned a lot.</p> + +<p>"My mother's old master was Tom Barnett, so she said. No, not 'so she +said' because I have seed him. He give her her age and all at that time. +I have it in my Bible. He said that she was twelve years old the +Christmas before the surrender. The surrender was in May, wasn't it?</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Susan Bearden. She married Ben Bearden. She worked +in Tom Barnett's house. She milked and churned and 'tended to the +children and all such as that. He never allowed her to go to the field. +Neither her mother, my grandmother. She was the cook. My mother's name +before she married was Susan Barnett.</p> + +<p>"An old colored lady that they had there seed after the colored +children. She looked after my mother too. She was so old she couldn't do +nothin' so they had her to look after the children. My grandmother was +kept busy because she had the white folks to cook for and she had all +the colored folks to cook for too.</p> + +<p>"There is an old lady down on Spring Street that can give you a lot of +information about slavery times.</p> + +<p>"A boy was telling her that somebody was going 'round asking questions +about slavery and she said she wished he would come and see her.</p> + +<p>"My mother never had any chance to go to school before freedom and she +never had any chance to go afterwards because she didn't have any money. +When they turned them loose the white folks didn't give 'em anything, so +they had to work. They didn't allow them to pick up a piece of paper in +slave time for fear they would learn.</p> + +<p>"My mother remembered the pateroles. She said they used to catch and +whip the colored men and women when they would get out.</p> + +<p>"My mother's old master was the one that told mama she was free. He told +her she was free as he was. After they learned that they were free, they +stayed on till Christmas.</p> + +<p>"After Christmas, they went to another plantation. My gran'pa, he come +and got them all to come. My gran'pa's name was Harvey Barnett. His old +master's son had married and he had been staying with him. That made him +be on another place. There was a good many of the children in my +grandmother's family. Mama had a sister named Lucy, one named Lethe, one +named Caroline, one named Annie, and one named Jane. She had two +boys—one named Jack, and one named Barnett. She had another sister +named—I don't remember her name.</p> + +<p>"After freedom, we sharecropped for a number of years up until my father +died. He died about twenty-four years ago.</p> + +<p>"After that mama washed and ironed for about ten or twelve years. Then +she got too old to work and we took care of her. My mother died last +March on the ninth day. She always had good health for an old lady. +Never got so she couldn't get up and do her light work such as dress +herself, cooking, sweeping, and so on. She would even do her own washing +and ironing if we would let her. She would hide from us and pick cotton +till we stopped her.</p> + +<p>"She was sick only one week and the doctor said she died of old age. He +said it was just her time. She didn't have nothin' the matter with her +but jus' old age he said so far as he could find. Dr. Fletcher was our +doctor. She died in Jerome, Arkansas about sixteen miles from the +Louisiana line. Leastwise, they tell me it's about sixteen miles from +the line. She always told us that she had her business fixed with the +Lord and that when she taken sick, It wouldn't be long. And sure 'nough, +it wasn't.</p> + +<p>"I farmed until my mother and brother died. Then I came up here with my +sister as I had no children living. I jus' wash and iron now whenever I +can get somethin' to do.</p> + +<p>"I have been married once. I had three children. All of them are dead. +My children are dead and my husband is dead.</p> + +<p>"I belong to the Baptist church down on Spring Street. I always unite +with the church whenever I go to a place. I don't care whether I stay +there or not.</p> + +<p>"My mama's master was good as far as white folks generally be in slavery +times. He never whipped my grandmother nor my mother. He was good to the +field hands too. He never whipped them. He would feed them too. He had +right smart of field hands but I don't know just how many. I don't think +he ever sold any of his slaves. I think he come by them from his father +because I have heard them say that his father told him before he died +never to 'part with Black Mammy. That was what he called her. And he +kept them altogether jus' like his father told him to. His father said, +'I you to keep all my Negroes together and Black Mammy I don't want you +let her be whipped because she nursed all of you.' She said she never +was whipped 'cept once when she got a cockle berry up her nose and he +got it out and gave her a little brushing—not as much as grandma would +have given her.</p> + +<p>"He kept them all in good shoes and warm clothes and give them plenty to +eat. So many of the slaves on other plantations didn't have half enough +to eat and were half naked and barefooted all the time."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ShoresMahalia"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mahalia Shores, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Greene County, Georgia. My owner was Jim Jackson. He +bought my mother's father. She was raised on Jim Jackson's place. I +rec'collect a right smart about slavery times. He made us dress up and +let the nigger traders see what little niggers I got. We thought it was +nice. What fine limbs we had. Aunt Judy—some called her 'big +mamma'—lived down under the hill. She was old and seen after the +children. The biggest children took care and nursed the little ones. On +Wednesday and Saturday the cook made ginger cakes for the little +children. The house girl called us. She was Aunt Teena's girl. Aunt +Teena was a housemaid. See little niggers coming from every direction to +get our cakes.</p> + +<p>"Jim Jackson's wife was named Mariah. They lived in a big fine white +house. When it was freedom a soldier come, brought a paper and Massa Jim +was settin' on the porch. Tom Chapman was his overseer. They rung the +big farm bell and had the oldest niggers stand in a line and us little +ones in front so we could all see. Tom Chapman read the paper and stood +by the soldier. He had two big plantations. Massa Jim got sick that day +and vomited and vomited. He lived a week or two weeks. They sent for Dr. +Ducham but he couldn't do him no good. He died. Massa Jim told them they +could take the teams and go to town, all he ax of 'em was to feed and +take care of 'em. Every one of the grown folks went and left us at home. +Aunt Judy seen 'bout us like she been doing all the time. They went over +to Greensboro to celebrate. They all come back. They was all ready fer +their breakfastes. It was twelve miles from Greensboro. Then the next +day Massa Jim or Tom Chapman, one called the grown folks to the house +and told them, 'You can stay and I will pay you or you can go. I pay no +more doctor bills. I don't feed you no more nor give you no more +clothes.' Some moved and some hired to him. Some went to his +father-in-law's place and some to his brothers' place and around. His +wife was rich. She was Dave Butler's gal. No, I mean Massa Jim's +wife—Miss Mariah. That big place was what her pa give her. Massa Jim +had five hundred little niggers on that place and lots more on the big +plantation. He had about two thousand little niggers. We went in droves +is right.</p> + +<p>"I never went to a table in slavery time. We had our plates and cup and +took it to the pot and they put some victuals in 'em, then we went and +et where we pleased. We had all the meat we could eat and all the milk +we could drink all the time. Aunt Teena sewed and grandma would weave +cloth. They made white aprons. My hair was nice and old mistress would +tell Aunt Judy to curl my hair. They rolled it up on cloth and on little +light cobs. If they wet it, it would stay curled.</p> + +<p>"Massa Jim sold his niggers when he wanted to. He sold my grandpa and +Uncle Steve. Grandma wanted him to sell her and he wouldn't do it. I +don't know what become of grandpa. After freedom Uncle Steve come back +to us all. Grandpa was crying. He come to our house and said he had to +go. We never seen him no more.</p> + +<p>"Some of the slaves wouldn't be whooped by Tom Chapman. I heard them say +since I got grown he 'tacked 'em. It caused trouble. He couldn't whoop +'em then. Old master whooped some of 'em. Some would say, 'I take ten +licks offen you and that is all.' Then he would sell them the first +chance. They would go to the woods if he beat them too much. He didn't +abuse his niggers. He said his niggers was his property. Aunt Sarah +tended to the cows and Aunt Clarisa raised geese, turkeys, chickens, +ducks, and churned.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux come to our house, called Uncle Billy—that was my papa. +They got him up out of bed. One man said, 'I ain't had no water since +the battle of Shiloah.' He had pa draw water till daybreaking. He had a +horn he poured the water in. We was all scared half to death. Next +morning there was a branch from the well done run off. Something took +place about a well. Uncle Neel Anderson and Uncle Cush dug wells for +their living. They come after them. Aunt Mandy had a baby. They pitied +her and Uncle Neel got so scared he run upstairs in his shirt tail and +stuck his head in the cotton. They found him that way. Uncle Cush said, +'Come on, Neel, and go with me.' They whooped Uncle Cush in his shirt +tail. If you didn't open the door they would break it in.</p> + +<p>"I worked in the field in Georgia and Arkansas both. I cooked since I +was twelve years old. I married when I was twenty years old. I cooked +here in Marianna eighteen years and I have cooked three Sunday dinners +on Saturday and Sunday together. I would make three dollars when I done +that. I had five children and I raised one boy. I washed and ironed. I +get some help from the Welfare but I saved and my good old man saved so +we would have plenty when we got old. Folks burnt up two of my houses. I +got three more not fitten to live in till they are covered. I got good +property in Stuttgart but couldn't pay the tax on it and 'bout to loose +it. I tried to get a loan and never could. We niggers have a hard time."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimmonsRosa"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Rosa Simmons<br> + 823 West 13th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes mam, I was here during that Civil War. I was fifteen years old +then. I was born In Tennessee.</p> + +<p>"My boss man carried all the best hands to Texas and carried the scrub +hands across Cypress Creek here in Arkansas, and that's where I come. I +was fifteen when the Yankees come in on my boss man's place, so you know +now I ain't no baby. I thank God that He left me here to get old.</p> + +<p>"Before the war. I nussed two babies—my mistress' baby and her sister's +baby. Yes'm we had a good master and mistress. We didn't suffer for +nothin' and we didn't have no overseer over us. Colonel Maples was my +master. No'm he wasn't no soldier—that was the name his mother give +him.</p> + +<p>"When my folks first come to Arkansas we lived in a cabin that just had +a balin' sack hangin' in the door and one night a bear come in and my +brother and I broke a board off the side and fell right out in the cane. +We all hollered so some folks come down and shot the bear. I ain't never +seed a bear before and I didn't know what it was.</p> + +<p>"I 'member when the Yankees come to my boss man's place. They wanted to +shake hands but he was scared to death and wouldn't do it. Another time +the Yankees captured him and kept him three months. They took his horse +and he finally come home on a mule that didn't have but three legs. I +guess the Yankees give him the mule. He turned the old mule loose and +said he never wanted to see another Yankee. If he saw any kind of a +white man comin' down the road he run in the house and hid between the +feather bed and the mattress.</p> + +<p>"One time the Yankees come and drunk the sweet milk and took all the +butter, turkeys and hogs and then broke the powder horn against the +maple tree.</p> + +<p>"The cook say 'I'm gwine tell Marse Joe you drink all this milk.' The +Yankees say, 'Let the damn fool alone—here we are tryin' to free her +and she ain't got no sense.' They said there wouldn't be any more hard +times after the war.</p> + +<p>"But I sure have seen some hard times. I have washed and cooked and done +'bout everything.</p> + +<p>"When I get up in the morning I got the limburger (lumbago) in my back +so I ain't able to do much. Sometimes I have something to eat and +sometimes I don't."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsFannie"></a> +<h3>Mrs. Carol Graham<br> +Mrs. Mildred Thompson<br> +El Dorado District<br> +<br> +Fannie Sims.<br> +Customs.</h3> +<br> + +<p>"How ole is ah? Ise about 78. Yes'm ah wuz live durin de wah. Mah ole +moster wuz Mistuh Jake Dumas we lived near de Ouachita rivuh bout five +miles fum El Dorado landin. Ah membush dat we washed at de spring way, +way fum de house. What dat yo say? Does ah know Ca'line. Ca'line, lawsy, +me yes. Ca'line Washington we use tuh call huh, she wuz one uv Mr. Dumas +niggers. We washed fuh de soldiers. Had tuh carry day clo'es tuh dem +aftuh dark. Me an Ca'line had tuh carry dem. We had tuh hide de horse +tuh keep de soldiers fum gittin him. When we would take de horse tuh de +plum orchard we would stay dah all day to dark wid "Blackie". Dat wuz de +horse's name. Mah job mostly wuz tuh watch de chillun an feed mah +mistress chickens.</p> + +<p>"Ah kin recollect when dey took us an started tuh Texas an got as fur as +El Dorado and found out dat us niggers wuz free. We went back an +grandma's mistress's son took us home wid him fuh stretches and +stretches. We lived on de ole Camden road.</p> + +<p>"In mah days ah've done plenty uv work but ah don' do nothing now but +piece quilts. Dat's whut ah've been doing fuh mah white fokes since ah +been heah. Ah jes finished piecing and quiltin two uv em. De Glove[TR:?] +and de Begger. Mah husban' been dead 31 years dis pas' August. No, ah +counts is by dose twins ah raised. One uv em lives in dis heah place +right heah. Ah aint much count now. Sometime mah laig gets so big ah jes +had tuh sloop mah foot erlong."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsJerry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Jerry Sims (Indian and Negro)<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1859</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1859 close to Natchez, Mississippi. Chief Sims was my +grandpa. He was Indian, full blood. His wife was a Choctaw Indian. +Grandpa was a small red Indian. They kept my pa hid out with stock +nearly all time of the Civil War. Both my mas' parents was nearly all +Indian too but they was mixed. I'm more Indian than anything else. I +heard pa talk about staying in the cane brakes. Mighty few cane brakes +to be found now. I come with my grandpa and grandma to Arkansas when I +was five years old.</p> + +<p>"My ma belong to Quill and Sely Whitaker. I et and slept with Hattie and +Bud and Rob Whitaker. Quill Whitaker was a Union surgeon in the Civil +War.</p> + +<p>"I don't think any of my folks was ever sold. They was of a porer class +and had to have a living and sorter become slaves for a living. I never +heard ma say how she got in bondage. Pa stayed with John Rob bout like a +slave.</p> + +<p>"I am a farmer. I am not on the PWA. Times for me is hard. You see some +has so much and others hardly can live atall.</p> + +<p>"It is not for me to say about the young generation. I have mighty +little to do with any of them.</p> + +<p>"I have voted but not lately. I never did understand voting."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsVictoria"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Victoria Sims, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Limestone County, Alabama. It was on a river. Where I was +born they called it Elks Mouth. Our owners was Frank Martin and Liza +Martin. They raised papa. Their daughter aired (heired) him. Her name +was Miss (Mrs.) Betty Hansey. Papa's name was Ed Martin. I stood on a +stool and churned for papa's young mistress. The churn was tall as I +was. I loved milk so good and they had plenty of it—all kinds. Soon as +ever I get through, they take up the butter. I'd set 'round till they +got it worked up so I could get a piece of bread and fresh butter and a +big cup of that fresh milk. They always fixed it for me.</p> + +<p>"Mama was Minthy Martin. She cooked on another place. She was a nurse. +Her papa belong to one person and her mother to somebody else. Mama was +Minthy Bridgeforth but I don't have her owner's name. I guess she was +sold. I heard her say the Bridgeforth's was good to her. Some white man +whooped on her once. I never heard her say much about it. Papa's owners +was good to him. They was crazy about him. I knowed papa's owners the +best and I lived there heap the most. I was born a slave but I don't +know who I belong to. I've studied that over myself. I used to go back +to see papa's owners. They owned lots of slaves and lots of land. Papa +done a lot of different things. He fed and farmed and cleaned off the +yards and slopped the pigs. He done what they said do, well as I can +recollect. I wasn't with mama till after freedom. Mama said her white +folks was treated mighty mean during the War. Once the soldiers come and +mama was so scared she took the baby and run got in the cellar. They +throwed out everything they had to eat. They took off barrels of things +to eat and left them on starvation. One soldier come one time and wanted +mama to go to the camps. She was scared not to go, scared he'd shoot her +down. She told him she'd go the next day soon as she could get up her +things and tell her folks she had gone. He agreed to that. Soon as he +left she and some other young women on the place put out to the cane +brakes and caves. She said they nearly starved. The white folks sent +them baskets of victuals several times. Mama said she had some pretty +beads she wore. Somebody had made her a present of them. She loved 'em. +I think she said they was red. Mama's mistress told her to hide her +beads, the soldiers would take them. She hid them up in the loft of +their house on a nail. One day a gang come scouting and they rummaged +the whole house and place. When the soldiers left she thought about her +beads and went to see and they was gone. She cried and cried about them. +That was before she went to the canebrakes.</p> + +<p>"When freedom come on, the owners told them they was free. They didn't +leave and then they made a way for them to stay on. They stayed on.</p> + +<p>"I was grown when we come to this state but we lived in Tennessee a few +years. Mama had had nine children by that time. All was dead, but us two +girls and my brother. We come to Arkansas with our parents. We heard the +land was new and rich. I wasn't married then.</p> + +<p>"I've worked hard in the field all my life till last year or so. I still +do work.</p> + +<p>"Times is tough here I tell you. I get a little help, six dollars.</p> + +<p>"Some of the young folks won't work, some not able to work. If anybody +saving a thing I don't hear about it."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SimsVirginia"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Virginia Sims<br> + 1121 N. Magnolia<br> + Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 93<br> +Occupation: Retired Midwife</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1844. I was twenty when peace was declared. I was born in +Virginia. Yes ma'am, but I was sold, put up on a stump just like you +sell hogs to the highest speculator. I was sold with my mother from a +man named Joe Poindexter and bought by Tom Murphy and brought to +Arkansas. My God, every Murphy round here knows me. Yes'm, my mother and +me was sold. Papa wasn't sold, but he come here the second year after +surrender.</p> + +<p>"I was old enough to spin twelve cuts a day—had it to do. And I could +weave cloth just like they do now.</p> + +<p>"Had seven brothers and I'm the onliest girl.</p> + +<p>"I can recollect when Miss Mary Poindexter died. They said I was two.</p> + +<p>"My mistis in Arkansas was Mrs. Susan Murphy. That was out on the +plantation, we didn't live in no city—my God, no!</p> + +<p>"The way my people acts now, they looks foolish. I never heard a person +curse till I come up here. I was a grown young lady nineteen years old +when our master lowed us to get out and cote. You better not. The first +husband I married I was nineteen goin' on twenty. My husband fought on +the Southern side. His master sent him as a substitute.</p> + +<p>"My master put good clothes on me, I'd say. 'Master. I wants a dress +like so and so, and I wants a pair of shoes.' Yes ma'am, and he got em +for me. I was forty-three and married to a nigger fore I knowed what +twas to cry for underwear.</p> + +<p>"I member they was a white man called Dunk Hill and he said, 'Virginia, +who freed the niggers?' I said, 'God freed the niggers.' He said, 'Now, +Virginia, you goin' be just as free as I am some day!'</p> + +<p>"General Shelby's troops was comin' on this side the ribber. That's one +time I was scared. Never seed so many men in my life. They wanted +something to eat. Mama cooked all night. They was nine hundred and +somethin'. I toted canteens all night long.</p> + +<p>"I member when they had that Marks Mill battle. My husband was there and +he sent word for me to come cause he had the measles and they had went +in on him. I had to put on boots and wade mud. Young folks now ain't got +no sense. I see so many folks now with such dull understanding. Marks +Mill was the onliest part of the war I was in.</p> + +<p>"General Shelby and Captain Blank, they whetted their swords together +when peace was declared. Captain said, 'General, I'm not crazy and +neither am I a coward. I looked up and seem like a man was comin' out +the clouds, and so I'm goin' to surrender.'</p> + +<p>"Them cavalry men—they'd say, 'Ride!' and how they'd go.</p> + +<p>"I seen em when they was enlistin'. Said they was goin' to whip the +Yankees and be back for breakfast in the morning.</p> + +<p>"Marse Ben was goin' and Miss Susan say, 'Virginia, if you think he +ain't goin' come back you ought to kiss him goodbye.' I said, 'I ain't +goin' to kiss no white man.'</p> + +<p>"Miss Fanny went up the ladder and sot rite on the roof and watched the +soldiers goin' by. Yes'm. Old master whipped me with a little peach +stick cause I let Frankie—we called her Frankie—go up the ladder. I +said I couldn't stop her cause she said if I told her papa, she and +Becky goin' to whip me. He whipped Miss Fanny. Old miss come in and say, +'Ain't you goin' whip this nigger?' She was mean as the devil. Oh, God, +yes. She so mean she didn't know what to do. But old master kep her +down. You know some of these redheaded women, they just as devilish as +they can be. We had some neighbors, Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Daniels and old +miss would be out there on the lawn quarrelin' till it was just like a +fog. Us niggers would be out there listenin'.</p> + +<p>"But I was always treated good. You know if I had been beat over the +head I couldn't recollect things now. My head ain't been cracked up. +Nother thing. I always been easy controlled.</p> + +<p>"I never went to school a day. After we was freed we stayed right on the +Murphy place. They paid us and we worked on the shares. That's the +reason I say I done better when I was a slave."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SingfieldSenya"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Senya Singfield<br> + 1613 W. Second Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Washington, Virginia right at the foot of the Blue Ridge +Mountains. My mother was sold when I was a babe in her arms. She was +sold three times. I know one time when she had four children she was +sold and one of my brothers was sold away unbeknownst to her. Her old +master sold her away from her mistress. She was a cook and never was +mistreated.</p> + +<p>"I ain't never been to school. When I got big enough, my mother was a +widow and I had to start out and make a living. I've always been a cook. +Used to keep a boarding house, up until late years. I've washed and +ironed, sewed a right smart and quilted quilts. I've done anything I +could to turn an honest living. Oh I've been through it but I'm still +here. I've been a widow over forty years.</p> + +<p>"I think the folks nowdays are about run out. They are goin' too fast. +When I was comin' up, I had to have some manners. My mother didn't low +me to 'spute nobody."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SloanPeggy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Peggy Sloan<br> + 2450 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 80, or more<br> +Occupation: Farming</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Arkansas in Tulip, in Dallas County I think it is, isn't +it?</p> + +<p>"Charlotte Evans was mother's name and my father's name was Lige Evans. +Gran'daddy David was my mother's father, and Cheyney was my mother's +mother.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Johnnie Sumner was the name of my young master, and the old man was +Mr. Judge Sumner. The old people are all dead now. Mr. Judge Sumner was +Johnnie Sumner's father. Me and Mr. Johnnie suckled together. Mr. +Johnnie came to Fordyce they say looking for the old slaves. I didn't +know about it then. I never would know him now. That is been so long +ago. I sure would like to see 'im.</p> + +<p>"My mother ain't told me much about herself in slave times. She was a +nurse. She lived in a log cabin. You know they had cabins for all of +them. The colored lived in log houses. The white people had good houses. +Them houses was warmer than these what they got now.</p> + +<p>"My grandma could cut a man's frock-tail coat. These young people don't +know nothin' 'bout that. Grandma was a milliner. She could make anything +you used a needle to make.</p> + +<p>"Lige Evans was the name my father took after the surrender. He wasn't +named that before the surrender—in the olden times. My mother had +fifteen children. She was the largest woman you ever seen. She weighed +four hundred pound. She was young Master Johnnie's nurse. Mr. Johnnie +said he wanted to come and see me. I heard he lives way on the other +side of Argenta somewheres.</p> + +<p>"I was my mama's seventh girl, and I got a seventh girl living. I had +fifteen children. My mother's children were all born before the +surrender.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Judge Sumner and his son were both good men. They never whipped +their slaves.</p> + +<p>"They didn't feed like they do now. I et corn bread then, and I eat it +now. Some people say they don't. They would give them biscuits on +Sundays. They had a cook to cook for the hands. She got all their meals +for them.</p> + +<p>"They had a woman to look after the little colored children, and they +had one to look after the white children. My mother was a nurse for the +white children. My mother didn't have nothing to do with the colored +children.</p> + +<p>"I didn't never have no trouble with the pateroles. Sometimes they would +come down the lane running the horses. When I would hear them, I would +run and git under the bed. I was the scaredest soul you ever seen. I +think that's about all I can remember.</p> + +<p>"I was the mother of fifteen children. I had one set of twins, a boy and +a girl. The doctor told me you never raise a boy and a girl twin. My boy +is dead. All of my children are dead but two.</p> + +<p>"I was raised on the farm. I want a few acres of ground now so bad.</p> + +<p>"I never was married but once. My husband's name was David Sloan. I +don't know exactly how long he and me were married. It was way over +twenty years. My license got burnt up.</p> + +<p>"You know I couldn't be nothin' but a Christian."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Peggy Sloan's memory is going. She is not certain of the number of +children her mother had although she knows there were more than seven +because she was the seventh.</p> + +<p>She remembers nothing about her age, but she knows definitely that all +of her mother's children were born before the War—that is before the +end of the War. Since the War ended seventy-three years ago and she was +the seventh child with possibly seven behind her, I feel that she could +not be younger than eighty. She remembers definitely running at the +approach of men she calls pateroles during "slavery time."</p> + +<p>Her mind may be fading, but it is a long way from gone. She questioned +me closely about my reason for getting statements from her. She had to +be definitely satisfied before the story could be gotten.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmallwoodArzella"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Arzella Smallwood<br> + Hazen R.F.D., Green Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 60 Doesn't know exact age</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born about eight miles from Williston, South Carolina. After +freedom my mother married Lee Ballinger and she had six children. He +died when I was real small. My mother was named Hester McCrary. Old +Master McCrary bought grandma and my mother in Virginia. One sister my +mother never did run across after freedom. She was older and sold to +other people. I think at freedom my mother left and I think grandma did +too. My grandpa was half Indian, but I never did see him to remember +what he looked like. Our young master is a doctor. He waited on my +mother before she died. Grandma was blind and she lived with us. Our +young master may still be living. Old mistress was named Sylvania and +she sent for my mother to come wait on her when she got sick to die. I +think they had pretty fair treatment there. My mother was to be a house +girl and cook. I think grandma was a cook and field woman both.</p> + +<p>"I heard them say the white folks took them to church to learn to pray, +then they didn't allow them to pray for freedom. But I don't think they +wanted freedom. After they was set free they died up so scand'lous. +Grandma said they had to work harder. My mother brought a good price +because she was real light color and sharp to learn. She had six +children and we was all darker than she was a whole lots. She and +grandma was both good on giving advice. Seem like they could see how +things would turn out every time.</p> + +<p>"I married a man with a roving nature. We come here. He left me, come +back for me to look after before he died. I married again. I left him. +He told me how I could do five washings a week and take care of us both. +I didn't aim to do it. I mighter got some washings but I didn't aim to +keep him.</p> + +<p>"I get a little commodities along to help out. I'm picking berries now +twenty-five cents a gallon for the first picking. Fifteen and twenty +cents is the regular prices.</p> + +<p>"I haven't got children and I don't know what they ought to do. I reckon +they do the best they can.</p> + +<p>"Times is hard on me. It takes me all the time to make a living."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmileySarah"></a> +<h3>Pine Bluff District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Martin & Barker<br> +Subject: Negro Customs<br> +<br> +This information given by: Sarah Smiley (Colored)<br> +Place of Residence: Humphrey, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> + +<p>I was born the 10th of May, 1860. My home was in Charleston, S.C. I was +not a slave, but my parents were.</p> + +<p>My mother was a seamstress and my father, Edward Barnewill, was butler +for their white folks.</p> + +<p>I looks the door at sundown, and me and God are all by ourselves, and I +am not afraid.</p> + +<p>I came to Sherrill when I was a schoolgirl, and married when I was 14. +Lived here after I was married. Taught school before I was married.</p> + +<p>Had seven children by my first husband. My three husbands were Ike +Williams, Eli Treadvan, and Calvin Smiley.</p> + +<p>When asked about her books standing on her shelves—namely Golden Gems, +arithmetic, and the Bible, also a blue back speller—said she just loved +her books.</p> + +<p>Young folks of today don't love like they did in the olden days. Now it +is hot love, minute love, free love.</p> + +<p>When my first child was born, I begged the midwife not to cut me open to +get the baby out. The midwife told me the same place it went in the same +place it will come out.</p> + +<p>When my breasts began to grow (adolescence) I didn't want those bumps on +me, and tied them down with wide rags.</p> + +<p>Cures—I uses gasoline and cedar, soak it and rub on affected places for +rheumatism.</p> + +<p>I believe that you must not let your left hand know what your right hand +is doing.</p> + +<p>Heaven is a place of rest. If we are faithful to God, you can ride death +home.</p> + +<p>Hell is below—also here on earth.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithAndrew"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Andrew Smith<br> + R.F.D., Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 73</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born after the surrender at Oxford, Mississippi. We belong to +Master Jim Smith. Mother cooked and father worked in the field. He was +on a average being good. They didn't trouble my mother as I recollect +hearing 'em say but they whooped them in the field. Pattyrollers chased +papa in sometimes. I heard him talk about it but I couldn't tell what he +said now. Mama had two before freedom, then she married and had three +children. He died. She married the second time and had two more +children. That made seben in all.</p> + +<p>"She said her first marriage was pronounced (announced). My mother said +their master refugeed them to Texas till the year of the surrender. They +didn't know nothing 'bout freedom till a while after they got back from +Texas. They stayed on that year and longer too not knowing 'bout +freedom. My rickerliction is short.</p> + +<p>"Frank Houston was a neighbor of our'n. He lived on my folks' joining +plantation close to Houston, Mississippi during slavery. During or +before the War come on he put his money in a barrel—hogshead. They said +it was gold and silver. I don't know. It might some been paper. He +rolled the barrel down to the river. It was the Tallahassee (?) River +eighteen miles northeast of Oxford, Mississippi. He hid his barrel of +money in the river. They hunted and hunted it and never could find it. +It might sunk in the mud and quick sand. Somebody might er hauled it out +and stole it. The whole neighborhood hope him hunt it. They never did +find it. I seen the old man and Jim Smith heaps of times.</p> + +<p>"I voted in Mississippi. I couldn't read. They had a big fight in the +country at Midway Church where we all voted. It was out a ways from +Oxford, Mississippi. I never voted in Arkansas. I pay poll tax. Never +'lowed to vote.</p> + +<p>"I never went to school a day in my life.</p> + +<p>"I come to Forrest City fifty-four years ago. Married here. Never had a +child. Now my wife dead. I farmed all my life. I bought a farm but they +never let me have it. I never got it all paid out. They took it.</p> + +<p>"I get Welfare help. I does some work. I'm nearly past hard work now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithCaroline1"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Carol N. Graham<br> +ADDRESS—Rear 456 West Main Street, El Dorado, Arkansas<br> +DATE—November 1, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slaves</h3> +<p>[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Circumstances of Interview</b></p> + +<p>1. Name and address of informant—<big><b>Caroline Smith</b></big>, Route 1, El Dorado. +(Lives with Negroes by name of Green about 1 mile from Smith's Crossing)</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—November 1, 1938, Tuesday morning, +9:30-10:30</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—at the home of some Negroes named Green.</p> + +<p>4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant—Had previously talked with Caroline.</p> + +<p>5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you—Mrs. Ethel +Depriest, 516 East Miles Street, El Dorado.</p> + +<p>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.—a typical Negro farm +house.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> + +<p>1. Ancestry—</p> + +<p>2. Place and date of birth—Camden, Arkansas? No date.</p> + +<p>3. Family—one child.</p> + +<p>4. Places lived in, with dates—Camden and El Dorado. No dates.</p> + +<p>5. Education, with dates—</p> + +<p>6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates—None</p> + +<p>7. Special skills and interests—</p> + +<p>8. Community and religious activities—</p> + +<p>9. Description of informant—</p> + +<p>10. Other points gained in interview—This slave old enough to remember +Civil War.</p> + +<br> + +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> + +<p>"I first remembers living on the plantation of Mr. Jake Dumas near El +Dorado Landing. You know it's Calion now. We lived up towards Camden and +it was there that my ma and pa was married and buried. I was a big girl +durin' the war. My job was to card and spin. And I use to carry the +children to school. When I would get to the school I would put the +children off, git straddle and ride that horse home. When I would get +there old mos would say Ca'line did you run him? I'd say naw sir. Then +he'd say, 'Oh, Carryline put the horse in the lot and come out here. I'd +say, 'Master I didn't run that horse' but didn't do no good. He sure +would whip me. I'd get down and roll. I would stomp and he would do the +same. I wondered how he could tell I'd run that horse. But course he +could cause that horse had the thumps (heart beating rapidly).</p> + +<p>"I remember seeing the soldiers come through during the war. They come +by droves stealing horses, setting the cotton on fire and taking sumpin +to eat, too.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I does still member the songs we sung durin' the war but I've got +the asthmy and ain't got much wind fur singin'.</p> + +<pre> +"You want to know the reason, +You want to know the reason, +You want to know the reason, I'll tell you why, +We'll whip them Yankees, whole hog or die." + +"Hooray, Hooray, Hooray for the Southern Girl. +Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear. +My homespun dress is plain I know, +I glory in its name; +Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear." +</pre> + +<p>"I've got the asthmy honey and jest caint sing no more.</p> + +<p>"You asked 'bout my husband and chillun. I been married fo' times. My +first man's name was Dick Hagler, the next Frank Bibby, the next Henry +Harris and the last one was Tom Smith. That's where I get my name +Ca'line Smith. I never did have but one daughter but she had sixteen +chillun. She's daid now and mah granchillun is scattered.</p> + +<p>"I got the asthmy an jes don' feel like talkin' no more. Long time ago +when I was sick master always had a doctor to me now I have to hire one. +And they always fed me good and clothed me but after I was free I would +go round and work around to git a little sumpin to eat."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithCaroline2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Caroline Smith, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Ca'line Smith's my name and dey calls me 'Aunt Ca'line.' I was born +about de year 1855 as I was about dis high (measuring) when de War broke +out. I remembers de boys marching away in their grey uniforms just as +plain. We chillen would watch dem as dey went away; we could see em as +we peeped through de winders and de cracks in de walls.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Mississippi close to Columbus on de plantation of my +master, John Duncan. And he was a purty strict old master, sure, but +sometimes he was kind to us. When we was set free he let us all go +wherever we wanted to, but didn't pay us nothin'.</p> + +<p>"All de slaves that I remembers stayed on around in different parts of +Mississippi after de War and engaged in farmin', and workin' on roads +and streets, and other public work. About forty years ago I come to Pope +County, Arkansas wid my parents and has lived here ever' since.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember nothin' about de Klu Klux Klan or if our folks was +ever bothered wid em.</p> + +<p>"Yes suh, I keeps workin' every day and likes to keep up my sewin'. +Plenty of it to do all de time—jest like I'm doin' today. My health is +purty good ceptin' I has a sort of misery in my side.</p> + +<p>"I draws a pension of $7.50 a month, but I dunno who sends it.</p> + +<p>"I belongs to de Adventist Church, and I sure believes in always tellin' +de trufe and nofin' but de trufe; we better tell de trufe here, for some +of dese days we all gwine where nofin' but de trufe will be accepted.</p> + +<p>"No suh, I ain't never took any interest in politics and ain't never +voted.</p> + +<p>"Dese young'uns today is simply too much for me; I can't understand em, +and I dunno which way dey headed. Some few of em seems to have sound +common sense, but—well, I just refuse to talk about em."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithEdmond"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella Anderson<br> +Person Interviewed: Edmond Smith<br> + D Avenue<br> + El Dorado, Ark.<br> +Age: ?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Arcadia, Louisiana a long, long time ago. Now my work +when I was a child was farmin'. I did not stay a child long, I been +grown ever since I was fourteen. My father lived till I was eleven, and +I thought since I was the oldest boy I could take his place of bossin', +but my mother would take me down a button hole lower whenever I got too +high.</p> + +<p>"Before my papa died we had a good livin'. We lived with his mistress's +daughter, and we thought we lived in heaven. My papa made all of the +shoes and raised all of the cattle from which he got the hide. We raised +all the wool to make our wool clothes and made all of the clothes we +wore. And food—we did not know what it was to go to a store to buy. +Didn't have to do that. You see, people now living out of paper sacks. +Every time they get ready to cook it's go to the store. We old timers +lived out of our smokehouse.</p> + +<p>"In there we had dried beef, cured pork, sugar from syrup, sweet +potatoes, onions, Irish potatoes, plenty of dried fruit and canned +fruit, peanuts, hickory nuts, walnuts; eggs in the henhouse and chickens +on the yard, cows in the pen and milk and butter in the house.</p> + +<p>"My mama even made our plow lines. She had a spinning wheel and you know +how to spin?—you can make ropes for plow lines too. Just twist the +cotton and have it about six inches long and put it in the loom and let +it go around and around. You keep puttin' the twisted cotton in the loom +and step on the peddle and no sooner than done, that was worked in a +rope. Now, if you don't know what I am talking about it is useless for +me to tell you.</p> + +<p>"After papa died that left no one to work but mama and I tell you time +brought about a change. A house full of little children—we lived from +hand to mouth. Not enough corn to feed one mule. No syrup, no hogs, no +cows. Oh! we had a hard time. I remember hearing my mama many a night +ask God to help her through the struggle with her children. The more my +mama prayed the harder times got with her. Wasn't no churches around so +she had to sing and pray at home. The first Sunday School I remember +going to was in 1892. I went to school and got as high as fifth grade, +then I ran away from my mama.</p> + +<p>"Just becaise I let old bad man overpower me I got grown and mannish. +Couldn't nobody tell me a thing. I would steal, I would fight, I would +lie. I remember in 1896 I went to church—that was about the fourth time +I had been to church. The preacher began preachin' and I went outdoors +and cut the harness off of his mule and broke one of his buggy wheels. I +went down in the woods and cut a cow just for meanness. I stole a gun, +and I would shoot anytime and anywhere, and nobody bothered me because +they was scared to. I stole chickens, turkeys and anything.</p> + +<p>"I got in trouble more times than a little, so the last time I got in +trouble some white people got me out and I worked for them to pay my +fine out. While working for them I made shoes. They taught me to do +carpenter work. They taught me to paint; to paper; to cook; work in the +field and do most anything. I came to my senses while working with those +people and they made a man out of me. When I left there I was a first +class carpenter. Those white people was the cause of me getting +independent. I didn't get no book sense, but if you get with some good +white people, that will be worth more than an education."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithEmmaHulett"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Emma Hulett Smith; Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Age: 66</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was the first colored baby born here or very near here. There was +only three houses in this town (Hazen). I think they muster been log +houses.</p> + +<p>"My folks belong to Dr. Hazen. He brought families from Tennessee. When +the war broke out he took em to Texas. Then he brought em back here. +When they was freed I heard my mother say they worked on for him and his +boys (Alex and Jim Hazen) and they paid them. He was good to them. They +had er plenty always. After the war they lived in good log houses and he +give em land and lumber for the church. Same church we got cept a storm +tore it down and this one built in place of it. He let em have a school. +Same place it stands now. My mother (Mandy Hulett) got a Union pension +till she died. She cooked at the first hotel in Hazen for John Lane. She +washed and ironed till she died. We girls helped and we wash and iron +all we can get now. None of us not on relief (Fannie nor Emma). I can't +wash no more. My hands and arms swell up with rheumatism. I still iron +all I can get.</p> + +<p>"The present conditions seems awful unsettled; wages low, prices high +and work scarce at times. Men can get work in the hay two months and +bout two months work in the rice or pickin cotton, either one. Then the +work has played clean out till hay time next year.</p> + +<p>"How do they live? Some of their <u>wifes</u> cooks for white people and +they eat all they make up soon as they get paid. Only way they live."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithErvinE"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ervin E. Smith<br> + 811 Ringo Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I have been in this state for forty-nine years. I will be here fifty +years on the fifteenth of December.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Ebenezer Township, York County, South Carolina, on the +twenty-ninth day of April, in 1854. That makes me eighty-four years old +on Friday. I was born on Good Friday—on Good Friday at six o'clock in +the morning.</p> + +<p>"I am telling you what I was instructed all of my life. My father, W.D. +Smith, and my mother, Haria, told me these things. My mother carried a +nickname, Salina, all her life, but her real name was Haria.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how they happened to keep such good records. We had a +little advantage over the other people of that day. My father never got +any school education, but his brothers instructed him—his +half-brothers. They were white. They was good, too. I mean them brothers +thought just as much of me as they did of anybody else. So my father got +pretty good training. He got it from his brothers and that's how he +learned to keep such good records.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Relatives</b></p> + +<p>"I am told my mother cooked for one family for forty-two years. Her +maiden name was Haria Harris. She was three-fourths white. She come from +the Indian tribe—old Catawba Indians. Her own daddy was a white man, +but her Grand daddy on her mother's side was an Indian.</p> + +<p>"I am told that the old fellow bought my mother when she was fifteen +years old. Finally he got hold of both my father and my mother. Both of +them put together didn't have half colored blood. He must have loved +them a lot to work so hard to get them together. My father was half +white, but his mother was a mulatto woman (Interpreter's comment—This +should make him a quadroon)[TR: sentence lined out.]; and my mother's +great-grandmother was a colored woman.</p> + +<p>"I never knew much about race troubles. The best friend I ever had was +an old white grandmother. I was carefully shielded from all unpleasant +things.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Fort Sumter</b></p> + +<p>"I was looking at the men when they were getting ready to get on the +train to go to Fort Sumter. Mr. John White, Captain John White, I knew +him personally. He was one of our neighbors. That was in Ebenezer that +he was one of our neighbors. The soldiers going to capture Fort Sumter +caught the Columbia and Augusta train going to Charleston. Looked like +to me there was ten thousand of them. John White was the captain and +Beauregard[HW: here Gustave Toutant Beauregard.] was the general.</p> + +<p>"I didn't see the fighting because it was too far away. It was about +eighty miles from us where they got on the train to Fort Sumter. They +got on the train at Rock Hill. Rock Hill was a city—small city—real +close to Ebenezer. We lived near Rock Hill. They was adjoining towns.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers and Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"The only patrollers I knew of was some that come on the place once and +got hurt. My mother had a brother Hobb and the patroller tried to whip +him. Hobb knocked all his front teeth out with a stick. Ches[TR:?] Wood +was the name of the patroller. It was like it is now. There were certain +white people who didn't allow any of their niggers to be whipped. I +never seen a patroller on my place. I have heard of them in other +places, but the only one to come on our place was the one Uncle Hobb +beat up. He had to take it, because you couldn't put anything over on +Harris' plantation. My people was rich people. They didn't allow anybody +to come on their places and interfere with then—their niggers.</p> + +<p>"I have heard my mother say that no white man ever struck her in her +life. I have had uncles that were struck. Two of them, and both of them +killed the men that struck them. Uncle Saul killed Edmund Smith and +Uncle George killed Ed McGehee. Uncle George's full white sister (his +half-sister) sent him away and saved him. They electrocuted Uncle +Saul—they executed him.</p> + +<p>"White men struck them and they wouldn't take it. They didn't do nothin' +at all to Hobb Baron. He got to his boss and the white folks was 'fraid +to come there after him. All of this was in slavery. My people ain't +never had no trouble with anybody since freedom; white people would get +mad with my uncles and try to do something to them, and they wouldn't +take it.</p> + +<p>"There were three races in the neighborhood where I was raised—niggers, +Indians, and white folks. They never sent the Indians out until 1876 +when I was a grown man. They sent them over there to Utah when it became +a state. I had a lot of Indian friends that went along at that time.</p> + +<p>"Bad blood was mixed up there and you couldn't do nothing to anybody and +get away with it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>First Pair of Shoes</b></p> + +<p>"I can remember the first pair of shoes my uncle gave me. They had a +little brass on the top of the toes to keep you from kicking them out +and skinning them up. That was way back yonder in the fifties.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Bible and Church in Slave Time</b></p> + +<p>"White people taught their niggers what Bible they wanted them to know.</p> + +<p>"'Who made you?'</p> + +<p>"'God.'</p> + +<p>"'Why did He make you?'</p> + +<p>"'For his own glory.'</p> + +<p>"'Why ought you to love God?'</p> + +<p>"'Because He made me and takes care of me.'</p> + +<p>"That was all the Bible they wanted you to learn. That, and just a few +more things. I could state them all.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Education</b></p> + +<p>"In 1866, everybody that was less than sixteen years old in South +Carolina had to go to school. The little fellows that had been slaves +had to go to school, and they got some education. You will hardly find +an old man from South Carolina around my age who can't read and write. +There was one hundred sixty pupils in my school. All boys. I never went +to a mixed school—a school where they had boys and girls both.</p> + +<p>"The first school I attended was in Ebenezer. I went to high school in +Macklenburg. Miss Sallie Good and Miss Mattie Train, Elias Hill, and +David G. Wallace—all of these were my teachers. They were all white +except Elias Hill. He was the only colored teacher in that section of +the country—at that time.</p> + +<p>"When I finished high school, I went to Biddle University. Biddle was a +boys' school. It was in Charlotte, North Carolina. They had a girls' +school in Concord, North Carolina. Biddle is still running, but it has +another name. Dr. Mattoon was president of Biddle then and Dr. Darling +was president of the girls' school.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Murders</b></p> + +<p>"The first murder ever I saw was Violet Harris killed Warren Fewell. It +come over a family quarrel some way. They fell out over something. She +was not related to him. It was done right at the fence at her gate. She +cut him with a butcher knife—stuck him just once right through the +heart. That is the first murder I ever saw. They were both colored. The +War was just winding up. It happened in Ebenezer. I don't recall that +they punished her.</p> + +<p>"I have seen a white man killed by a white man, and I have seen a +colored man killed by a colored man; but I have never seen a colored man +killed by a white man or a white man killed by a colored man. I have +seen them after they were killed, but I never seen the killing. I have +seen both races killing their own, but I have never seen them killing +across the races.</p> + +<p>"About fifty years ago, I saw a young man come in the church and kill +another one. Just come in and shot him. That is been fifty years +ago—back in 1881 in Ebenezer.</p> + +<p>"Rock Hill, South Carolina, from 1876 to a while later, bore the name +'Bloody Town.' They killed a man there every Saturday night in the +year—fifty-two times a year they killed a man. They had to send for the +Federal troops to bring them down. They didn't just kill colored people. +They killed anybody—about anything."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithFrances"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Frances Smith<br> + 2224 Havis Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I specs I was born in slavery times. I remember seein' the Yankees. +That was in Mississippi. I'm seventy-seven—that's my age.</p> + +<p>"Spencer Bailey was old master. Just remember the name was 'bout the +biggest thing I knowed about. I seen him all right but I didn't know +much about him 'cept his name.</p> + +<p>"Mother belonged to him, yes'm.</p> + +<p>"I tell you the truf, what little I used to remember I done forgot it. I +just didn't try to keep up with it. I wasn't concerned and just didn't +try to keep up with it.</p> + +<p>"I know our folks stayed there a while. First place we went to after the +War was Tennessee.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how long I been here—I been here a time though.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I went to school several terms.</p> + +<p>"I was married in Arkansas. My folks heard about Arkansas bein' such a +rich country, so they come to Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"I farmed a long time and then I done housework.</p> + +<p>"Deal a times I don't know what to think of this younger generation. I +sits down sometimes and tries to study 'em out, but I fails.</p> + +<p>"Well, what the old folks goin' to get out of this?"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithHenriettaEvelina"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Henrietta Evelina Smith<br> + 1714 Pine Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age:</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Louisiana in East Felicie Parish near Baton Rouge on the +twenty-eighth day of December. My mother's name was Delia White. Her +maiden name was Delia Early. My father's name was Henry White. My +mother's father was named Amos Early. My mother's mother's name was +Julia. My father's father was named Tom White and his mother was named +Susan.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother both belonged to the Eason's. I don't know how +they spelled it. Eason's daughter married Munday and my uncle bought +this white man's place years after freedom. That is not far from +Clinton—about four or five miles. It is three miles from Ethel, +Louisiana.</p> + +<p>"Amos, my grandfather, was the wagoneer on the old place. Father, he +used to drive the wagon too. He'd haul cotton to Baton Rouge and things +like that. He would run off and stay five or six months. I have heard +them talk about how he used to come back and bring hogs and one thing +and another that he had found out in the woods. He would run off because +the overseer would whip him. But he was such a good working man that +once or twice, the boss man turned off his overseer on account of him. +There wasn't nothing against his work. He just wouldn't take a blow. +Most of the times after he had been out a while the boss man would tell +the hands to tell Amos that if he would come on home they wouldn't whip +him for running off.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother's mother on my father's side was named Melissa. I think +that was her name. My father's mother was named Susan like I told you.</p> + +<p>She was part Indian—better work hand never was. But she wouldn't be +conquered neither. When they got ready to whip her, it would be half a +day before they could take her. When they did get her, they would whip +her so they would have to raise her in a sheet. The last time they +whipped her, it took her nearly a year to get over it. So the white man +just turned her loose and told her she was free. She went on off and we +never did know what became of her.</p> + +<p>"The Easons were farmers and they had a large plantation. I don't know +just how many slaves they owned.</p> + +<p>"My father and mother were fed like pigs. They had an old woman that did +the cooking. She was broke down from work. They would give the slaves +greens and the children pot-liquor. My parents were field hands. My +mother was too young to carry a row when she was freed, but she worked +on an older person's row. They worked from can till can't. You know what +I mean, from the time they could see till the time they couldn't. Reb +time was something like the penitentiary now. It never got too cold nor +too hot to work. And there wasn't any pay. My parents never were given +any chance to earn any money. I heard that my grandpa used to make a +little something. He was a wagoneer you know. He would carry a little +extra on his load and sell it. His old master never did find it out. +People knew he had stole it, but they would buy it just the same.</p> + +<p>"The old boss man came down in the quarters and told them they were free +when freedom came. Right after freedom they stayed there on the old +place for a year or more. My mother wasn't grown and she and my father +married after that. Afterwards they had kind of a fight to get away from +the old man. He was carrying them the same way he was going before the +War and they had a row (quarrel), and left him. I don't know just what +terms they worked on. I don't think they did themselves. They took just +what they could get and didn't know just how they was paid.</p> + +<p>"If a man made a good crop, they would run him away and make him leave +his crops behind.</p> + +<p>"My folks continued to farm all their lives. They had trouble with the +night riders. They had to vote like they were told. If you voted the +wrong way they would get behind you and run you off. There were some +folks who would take pay for voting and then vote different, and when +the night riders found it out, there would be trouble. I don't believe +in taking money for voting, and I don't believe in lying.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father didn't get any schooling. That was allowed after +slavery, but it wasn't allowed in slavery time. They learned a little +from other people. They would slip and learn to read.</p> + +<p>"My great-grandmother was considered pretty when she was young. She had +glossy black hair and was a little short. She was brownskin and had big +legs. Her master would take her out behind the field and do what he +wanted. When she got free, she gave both of her children away. She had +two children by him—a boy named Eli and a girl named Anna. She didn't +want them 'round her because they reminded her of him."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>The subject did not wish to state her age. It is probably around +sixty-five. Her mother was married shortly after freedom. And eight +years is probably a liberal allowance for the distance of her birth from +emancipation.</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person Interviewed: Henry Smith<br> + 702 Virginia, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79<br> +Occupation: Odd jobs</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes mam, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Tennessee on a +plantation near Jackson. I was eight years old when peace was declared. +All I member is when they beat the folks pit near to death.</p> + +<p>"My old master was Tom Smith. Mean? Cose he was mean. Old mistress was +sorta good to us but old master was the devil. Used to make the men hold +the women while they whipped em. Make em wear old brogan shoes with +buckles across the instep. Had the men and women out fore day plowin'. I +member they had my mother out many a day so dark they had to feel where +the traces was to hitch up the mules.</p> + +<p>"My mother worked in the field and I stayed in front and helped her up +when she got behind.</p> + +<p>"I member when the Yankees had thousands and thousands of bales of +cotton in the streets right here in Pine Bluff and take a knife and cut +it open and put a match to it, and burn peoples houses and the gin +houses and everything. Take the hosses and mules and run em off.</p> + +<p>"Old master and mistress carried us to Texas till peace was declared. I +member one morning the mail come and old master had a long paper and he +called all us colored folks up and told us we was free. He told us we +could go or stay. They all wanted to stay so he brought em all back here +to Arkansas. He give each one three acres of ground and all they could +make on it. That's the nicest thing he ever done, but he didn't do that +but one year. After that the land fell back to him. Then they worked on +the halves.</p> + +<p>"When the colored folks went to buy stock and rent land from the whites, +it cost five and six dollars a acre. They sho could make some money that +way, too.</p> + +<p>"I was big enough to do right smart behind a plow. I could do a heap. We +got along pretty well.</p> + +<p>"I got married when I was bout eighteen and made a home for myself. Me +and my wife had twenty-two children. White folks helped us a lot. My +wife's dead and all my children dead 'cept four.</p> + +<p>"I been here in Pine Bluff twenty-two years. I been here a good +while—that ain't no joke. Used to make three dollars a day mowin' +grass. Bought this place with the money. Can't make that now. They won't +give you nothin' for your work.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes'm, I voted and wouldn't know what I was votin' till 'twas too +late.</p> + +<p>"Never went to school much. Learned to read a little bit. They kep' me +in the field. Yes ma'm, I've worked but I've never had a doctor to me in +my life.</p> + +<p>"Ain't much to this younger generation. The old race can get along a lot +better with the white folks than the young race can.</p> + +<p>"I'm the head deacon of the Morning Star Church. Read the Bible right +smart. I tell you one thing—I like all of it."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithJL"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: J.L. Smith<br> + 1215 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1862 in the month of September on the fifteenth. I was +born at a place they call Indian Bay on White River down here in +Arkansas. My mother was named Emmaline Smith and she was born in +Tennessee. I don't know really now what county or what part of the +state. My father's name was John Smith. He was born in North Carolina. I +don't know nothing about what my grandfather's name and grandmother's +names were. I never saw them. None of my folks are old aged as I am. My +father was sixty years old when he died and my mother was only younger +than that.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Experience of Father</b></p> + +<p>"I heard my father say that he helped get out juniper timber in North +Carolina. The white man me and my sister worked with after my father +died was the man my father worked with in the juniper swamp. His name +was Alfred Perry White. As long as he lived, we could do work for him. +We didn't live on his place but we worked for him by the day. He is dead +now—died way back yonder in the seventies. There was the Brooks and +Baxter trouble in 1874, and my father died in seventy-five. White lived +a little while longer.</p> + +<p>"My father was married twice before he married my mother. He had two +sets of children. I don't know how many of them there were. He had four +children by my mother. He had only four children as far as I can +remember.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how my father and my mother met up. They lived in the same +plantation and in the same house. They were owned by the same man when +freedom came. I don't know how they got together. I have often wondered +about that. One from Tennessee and the other from North Carolina, but +they got together. I guess that they must have been born in different +places and brought together through being bought and sold.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a Murrill. My father was a Cartwright. My father's +brother Lewis was a man who didn't take nothing much from anybody, and +he 'specially didn't like to take a whipping. When Lewis' master wanted +to whip him, he would call his mother—the master's mother—and have her +whip him, because he figured Uncle Lewis wouldn't hit a woman.</p> + +<p>"I have six children altogether. Two of them are dead. There are three +girls and one boy living. The oldest is fifty-seven; the next, fifty; +and the youngest, forty-eight. The youngest is in the hospital for +nervous and mental diseases. She has been there ever since 1927. The +oldest had an arm and four ribs broken in an auto accident last January +on the sixteenth of the month. She didn't get a penny to pay for her +trouble. I remember the man did give her fifteen cents once. The truck +struck her at the alley there and knocked her clean across the street. +She is fifty-seven years old and bones don't knit fast on people that +old. She ain't able to do no work yet. All of my daughters are out of +work. I don't know where the boy is. He is somewheres up North.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Houses</b></p> + +<p>"I have seen some old log houses that they said the slaves used to live +in. I was too young to notice before freedom. I have seen different +specimens of houses that they lived in. One log house had a plank house +builded on to the end of it. The log end was the one lived in during +slavery times and the plank end was built since. That gal there of mine +was born in the log end. There were round log houses and sawed log +houses. The sawed log houses was built out of logs that had been squared +after the tree had been cut down, and the round log houses was built out +of logs left just like they was when they was trees. There's been quite +an improvement in the houses since I was a kid.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Food</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard my father and mother talking among themselves and their +friends, but they never did tell me nothing about slave times. They +never did sit down and talk to me about it. When they'd sit down and +start talkin', it would always be, 'Now you children run on out and play +while we old folks sit here and talk.' But from time to time, I would be +sitting on the floor playing by myself and they would be talking 'mongst +themselves and I would hear them say this or that. But I never heered +them say what they et in slave times.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Work</b></p> + +<p>"My father worked in the juniper swamp in North Carolina, like I told +you. I think I heard my mother say she cooked. Most I ever heard them +say was when they would get with some one else and each would talk about +his master.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Cruelties</b></p> + +<p>"I heard my mother say that her mistress used to take a fork and stick +it in her head—jog it up and down against her head. I don't know how +hard she punched her. My mother was very gray—all her hair was gray and +she wasn't old enough for that. I reckon that was why.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"I don't remember how freedom came. They were refugeed—I call it +that—my father and mother were. My sister was born in Texas, and they +were back in Arkansas again when I was born. I was born and raised right +here in Arkansas. They were running from one place to the other to keep +the Yankees from freeing the slaves. I never even heard them say where +they were freed. I don't know whether it was here or in Texas.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After the War</b></p> + +<p>"I have no knowledge of what they did right after the War. The first +thing I remember was that they were picking cotton in Pine Bluff or near +there. It was a smoky log house I had to stay in while they were out in +the field and the smoke used to hurt my eyes awful.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux and Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"I don't remember nothing about the Ku Klux. I heard old folks say they +used to have passes to keep the pateroles from bothering them. I +remember that they said the pateroles would whip them if they would +catch them out without a pass. When I first heard of the Ku Klux Klan, I +thought that it was some kind of beast the folks was talking about. I +didn't hear nothing special they did.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Occupational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"When I got old enough, I worked a farm—picked cotton, hoed, plowed, +pulled corn—all such things. That is about all I ever did—farming. +Farming was always my regular occupation. I never did anything else—not +for no regular thing.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"I married in 1879. My father and mother married each other too after +freedom. I remember that. It was when the government was making all +those that had been slaves marry. I have been married just the one time. +My wife died in April 1927.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Present Condition</b></p> + +<p>"I am not able to do anything now. I don't even tote a chair across the +room, or spade up the ground for a garden, or hoe up the weeds in it. I +am ruptured and the doctor says it is the funniest rupture he ever seen. +He says that there's a rupture and fat hanging down in the rupture. They +have to keep me packed with ice all the time. The least little thing +brings it down. I can't hold myself nor nothing. Have to wear something +under my clothes.</p> + +<p>"I don't get a pension."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Smith is sensitive about his first name—doesn't like to give it—and +about his condition. He doesn't like to mention it or to have it +referred to.</p> + +<p>He has an excellent memory for some things and a rather poor one for +some others. He got angry when his granddaughter supplied data about his +wife which he apparently could not recall.</p> + +<p>His physical condition is deplorable and his circumstances extremely +straitened.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithJohnH"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: John H. Smith<br> + 2602 W. Twelfth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I reckon I was here, I member seein' the smoke from the guns look like +a cloud.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Missouri in 1856. I member <u>way</u> back. Yes'm. I'm +old—I'm <u>old</u>.</p> + +<p>"I member seein' the soldiers—Yankees—eight or ten in a squad and they +asked me did I want to ride with em? Old mistress say, 'That's my boy!' +I member way back when they used to put the folks upon a block and sell +em. I member one night we was in the cabin and the Ku Klux come up on +horses. And I member when they was hollerin' peace was declared.</p> + +<p>"Mama told me I was born in 1856. Mama had all our ages in that big +Bible.</p> + +<p>"We stayed in St. Louis six years then we went to Chrystal City. +Missouri and I went to the glass factory and went to work.</p> + +<p>"Did I vote? Me? Yes'm, I voted many a time—Republican. I'm still a +Republican—always will be I reckon. I haven't voted for a long time but +I think everybody ought to have the liberty to vote.</p> + +<p>"I like to live in the North better cause the white folks treats you +better. They treats me all right here cause I don't do nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I member my white folks was good to me.</p> + +<p>"I went to school after the war whar I was born. C.N. Douglas, the son +of Napoleon Douglas, was my teacher. First teacher we had was Miss Mary +Strotter. I know she couldn't learn us anything so they got C.N. +Douglas. He brought that paddle with the little holes and he learned us +something. I know my sister was next to me and she couldn't get her +spelling and I'd work my mouf so she could see. C.N. Douglas caught me +at it and he whipped me that day. I never worked my mouf again.</p> + +<p>"I was the best speller in the school. I won a gold pen and ink stand +and George Washington picture.</p> + +<p>"Before the war I member the overseer would say, 'If you don't have that +done tonight, I'll whip you tomorrow.' They had one man was pretty bad +and I know they give him a thimble and a barrel and told him he had to +fill up that barrel, but he couldn't do it you know and so they whipped +him.</p> + +<p>"Mama used to whip me. She called me the 'Devil's Egg Bag' for a long +time. I used to take a darning needle and punch the eyes out of guineas +or chickens just to see em run around. She broke me of that. I know now +she never whip me enough, but she made a man of me. I got a good name +now. Always been a good worker. Done my work good and that's what they +want to know. Yes ma'm, I'm <u>old</u>."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SnowMaggieCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Persons interviewed: Maggie Snow and Charlie Snow<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Ages: 69 and 75</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My parents' names was Mary and Henderson Kurkendall. They had seven +children. Mama died when I was three years old. Papa was a Yankee +soldier.</p> + +<p>"They belong to the same white folks, Moster Jake and Peggy Kurkendall. +They had a big farm.</p> + +<p>"My papa told me that one morning they woke up and looked out over the +field. The Yankees had pitched their camps far as you could see on +Moster Jake's farm. They come up to his house. Moster Jake had a big +house and a big family. The Yankees come up there and throwed out all +they had and told the slaves to take it. No, they didn't; they was +scared to take it and it belong to them. They didn't want it all wasted +like they was doing. Papa said they rode their horses up to the house. +They took all the soldiers on the place to the camp. They was scared not +to go.</p> + +<p>"Papa left mama at the old home place and Moster Jake let them work all +they could. Papa stayed in the war till after the battle at Vicksburg. +Then he come home. They stayed awhile at Moster Jake's and worked. He +got his knee hurt and his health ruined. He never was no count after he +got back home. Mama could pick six hundred pounds of cotton a day he +said. They worked from daybreak till pitch dark in them days.</p> + +<p>"Little Jake Kurkendall is living now Enoch or Harrison Station, +Mississippi. He is older than I am. He got a family. But he is all the +son old Moster Jake had that I know living now.</p> + +<p>"Papa said the Yankees made all the slaves fight they could run across. +Some kept hid in the woods. Seem like from way he told bout it they +wanted freedom but they didn't want to go to war.</p> + +<p>"When we heard bout Arkansas being so rich and a new country, we wanted +to come. Some white and some colored come. We come to Aubrey, Arkansas. +We got six living, five dead children. I been here fourteen years (at +Brinkley). I hired out to cook in Mississippi but I wash and iron and +work in the field till I bout wore out. My husband in a terrible +condition. He picked some cotton. He got rheumatism in his legs.</p> + +<p>"We own a little home bout a mile from town and a pig. I wish I could +get a cow. I ain't got the money to buy one. Jess can't get one no way. +We had a fine garden. Two of us get $10 and commodities. Times so far +this year been good. When it gets cold times may be hard. Times better +this year than last or it been for a long time.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know I could vote. Guess my husband done my part of the +voting."</p> + +<p>"I am seventy-three years old. There was two boys and two girls of us. +My aunts and uncles raised me. My mother died when I was little and fore +that my papa went to the army and never come home. They said he got +killed or died—they didn't know. My parents belong to Berry Bruce. He +had a family I heard em say. He lived at Louisville, Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"I recollect the Ku Klux. I heard em talk a whole lot about em. One time +they rode round our house and through the hall of our house. Yes ma'am, +it scared us so bad it most paralyzed us all. They went on. We didn't +know what they wanted. We never did find out.</p> + +<p>"I don't vote. I never voted in my life. I don't recken I ever will. I +have been a hard worker all my life. I farmed. I loaded and unloaded on +a steamboat with my family farmin' in the country. The boat I run on +went from Memphis to New Orleans.</p> + +<p>"My family farmed at Batesville in the country out from there. For a +long time I made staves with the Sweeds. They was good workers. We would +make 1,000, then load the barge and send or take them to Vicksburg. I +got my board and $1 a day.</p> + +<p>"The present conditions for the cotton farmer has been better this year +than last. When it gets cold and no work, makes it hard on old men. I +got no job in view for the winter.</p> + +<p>"I would like to have a cow if I could raise the money to get one. I +been tryin' to figure out how to get us a cow to help out. I can't make +it.</p> + +<p>"I suffer all the time. I can't sit still, I can't sleep I suffer so wid +rheumatism. Nobody knows how I do suffer. My general health is fine.</p> + +<p>"This President has sure been merciful to the poor and aged. Surely he +will be greatly rewarded hereafter."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SolomonRobert"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Robert Solomon, Des Arc, Arkansas<br> +Age: 73</h3> +<br> + +<p>My father was African. He was born in Atlanta. My mother was a Cherokee +Indian. Her name was Alice Gamage. I was born in 1864. I don't know +where I was born—think it was in the Territory—my father stole my +mother one night. He couldn't understand them and he was afraid of her +people. He went back to Savannah after so long a time and they was in +Florida when I first seen any of her people. When I got up any size I +asked my father all about him and my mother marrying. He said he knowed +her 'bout two year 'fore they married. They sorter courted by signs—my +mother learned me her language and it was natural fur me to speak my +father's tongue. I talked for them. She was bout fifteen when she run +away. I don't know if a preacher ever did marry em or not. My father +said she was just so pretty he couldn't help lovin' her. He kept makin' +signs and she made signs. I liked my Gramma Gamage. She couldn't +understand much. We all went to the Indian Territory from Florida and +Georgia. That's how I come out here.</p> + +<p>I don't remember the Ku Klux. I remember hearing ma and gramma talk +'bout the way they tried to get way from 'em. My father was a farmer +till freedom. He farmed around here and at Pine Bluff. He died at West +Point. My mother and step-mother both died at Pine Bluff. They took my +mother to her nation in Oklahoma. She was sick a good while and they +took her to wait on her. Then come and took her after she died. There +show is a fambly. My father had twenty-two in his fambly. My mother had +five boys and three girls and me. My stepmother had fourteen more +children. That's some fambly aint it? All my brothers and sisters died +when I was little and they was little. My father's other children jess +somewhar down round Pine Bluff. I guess I'd know em but I aint seed none +of them in I don't know how long.</p> + +<p>The first work I ever done was sawmilling at Pine Bluff. Then I went +down in Louziana, still sawmilling—I followed dat trade five or six +years. Den I got to railroading. I was puttin down cross ties and layin' +steel. I got to be straw boss at dat. I worked at dat fifteen years. I +worked doing that in six different states. That was show fine livin'—we +carried our train right along to live in. I married and went to farming. +Then I come to work at this oil mill here (in Des Arc). The reason I +quit. I didn't quit till it went down and moved off. I aint had nothin' +much to do since. I been carryin' water and wood fur Mrs. Norfleet +twenty years and they cooks fur me now. My wife died 'bout a year ago. +She been dead a year last January. She was sick a long time 'fore she +died. Well the relief gives me a little to eat, some clothes and I gets +$5.00 a month and I takes it and buys my groceries and I takes it up to +Mrs. Norfleet's. They says come there and eat. They show is good to me +'cept I aint able to carry the wood up the steps much no more. It hurt +me when I worked at the oil mill. I helped them 'bout the house all the +time.</p> + +<p>What I do wid my money I made? I educated my girls. Yes maam I show is +got children. One my girls teaches school in St. Louis and de other at +Hot Springs. They both went to college at Pine Bluff. I sent em. No'm +dey don't help me. They is by my second wife and my first wife live with +my son, down close to Star City. Dey farm. It's down in Lincoln County. +They let me live in this house. It belongs to him. I went to the bank +fo' it closed and got my money whut I had left. I been livin' on it but +it give out.</p> + +<p>The conditions are all right. They kin make a right smart but everything +is so high it don't buy much. Some of 'em say they ain't goiner do the +hardest work, hot or cold and liftin' for no dollar a day. Don't nobody +work hard as I used to. There's goiner be another war and a lot of them +killed—'cause people ain't doin right. Some don't treat the others +right. No'm they never did. They used to threaten em and take 'em out in +cars and beat 'em up, just for disputin' their word or not paying 'em +and de lack. The white man has cheated a heap because we was ignorant +and black. They gamble on the cotton and take might' near all of it for +the cheap grub they let out to make de crop on. Conditions are better +but a heap of the young black and white too deblish lazy to work. Some +of dem get killed out goin' on at their meanness.</p> + +<p>I heard of uprisings since the war but I never was 'bout none of them.</p> + +<p>I votes the Republican ticket. The last I voted was for Hoover. Sure +they have tried to change my way of voting but I ain't goiner change. I +ain't heard nothin' 'bout no restrictions 'bout votin'. If a woman +wanter vote it's all right. My girs and my boy votes right along. They +are all Republicans.</p> + +<p>The most money I ever has at one time was $600.00. I did save it. I +spent it on my girls' clothes and education. They did go to college at +Pine Bluff but they went to the Catholic High School first down at Pine +Bluff. No'm they don't help me. They say it's all dey can do to get +along. They never have told me how much they make.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SpikesJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: James Spikes<br> + 2101 Bell Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 91</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Good morning. Yes'm I remember the Civil War. I was a soldier. I was +between sixteen and seventeen when I enlisted in the war.</p> + +<p>"'Why did you enlist?'</p> + +<p>"I didn't know no better. I thought I would be took care of. They told +us the war was sposed to set the darkies free. My old master didn't want +me to go—cose not. But they was very good to me. I regard them just the +same as myself.</p> + +<p>"I enlisted in the 55th regiment of colored soldiers. Then I went off +with the Yankees. I was with them when they had the battle at Corinth, +Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"I was with them when the Yankees taken Corinth and whupped. The rebels +tried to take it back and the Yankees whupped 'em again. The regiment I +was with whupped 'em away from several places and kept 'em runnin'.</p> + +<p>"When we was in Fort Pickens I 'member they had a poll parrot—some of +the officers had trained it to say 'Corporal of the guard, Jim Spikes, +post No. 1." Sometimes I would draw my gun like I was going to shoot and +the poll parrot would say, 'Jim, don't you shoot me!' They got plenty a +sense.</p> + +<p>"The war was funny and it wasn't funny. Well, it was funny for the side +that won when we had scrummishes (skirmish). I never was captured but I +hoped capture a lot.</p> + +<p>"I stayed in the war till I was mustered out in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. +I was a good big fellow then. Oh Lord yes, I knowed most anything.</p> + +<p>"After that I went to Memphis and then I come to Arkansas and went to +farming with some white fellows named French. The river overflowed and +we lost 'bout all the cotton.</p> + +<p>"The government gives me a pension now cause I was a soldier. Yes'm it +comes in right nice—it does that."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StanfordKittie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Kittie Stanford<br> + 309 Missouri Street; Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 104</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I used to be a slave. My mother belonged to Mrs. Lindsey. One +day when I was ten years old, my old mistress take me over to her +daughter and say 'I brought you a little nigger gal to rock de cradle.' +I'se one hundred and four years old now. Miss Etta done writ it down in +the book for me.</p> + +<p>"One time a lady from up North ask me did I ever get whipped. Honey, I +ain't goin' tell you no lie. The overseer whipped us. Old mistress used +to send me to her mother to keep the Judge from whippin' me. Old Judge +say 'Nigger need whippin' whether he do anything or not.'</p> + +<p>"Some of the hands run away. Old Henry run away and hide in the swamp +and say he goin' stay till he bones turn white. But he come back when he +get hongry and then he run away again.</p> + +<p>"When the war come some of the slaves steal the Judge's hosses and run +away to Pine Bluff and he didn't never find 'em. The Judge think the +Yankees goin' get everything he got so we all left Arkansas and went to +Texas. We in Texas when freedom come. We come back to Arkansas and I +stay with my white folks awhile but I didn't get no pay so I got a job +cookin' for a colored woman.</p> + +<p>"I been married fo' times. I left my las' husband. I didn't leave him +cause he beat me. I lef' him cause he want too many.</p> + +<p>"No'm I never seen no Ku Klux. I heard 'bout 'em but I never seen none +that I knows of. When I used to get a pass to go to 'nother plantation I +always come back fo' dark.</p> + +<p>"This younger generation is beyond my onderstanding. They is gettin' +weaker and wiser.</p> + +<p>"I been ready to die for the last thirty years. 'Mary (her granddaughter +with whom she lives), show the lady my shroud.' I keeps it wropped up in +blue cloth. They tells me at the store to do that to keep it from +turning yellow. 'Show her that las' quilt I made.' Yes'm I made this all +by myself. I threads my own needle, too, and cuts out the pieces. I has +worked hard all my life.</p> + +<p>"Now the Welfare gives me my check. My granddaughter good to me. I goes +to church on the first and third Sundays.</p> + +<p>"Lady, I glad you come to see me and God bless you. Goo' bye!"</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StanhouseTom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Tom Stanhouse<br> + R.F.D.<br> + Brinkley, Ark.<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born close to Greenville, South Carolina. I lived down close to +Spartanburg. My mother was named Luvenia Stanhouse and Henry Stanhouse. +They had nine children. Grandma belong to Hopkins but married into the +Stanhouse family. Grandpa's name was Tom. They set him free. I guess +because he was old. He lived about mong his children.</p> + +<p>"When they was set free old man Adam Stanhouse was good to em. He +treated em nice but they never got nothing but their clothes. They moved +on another place and started working sharecropper.</p> + +<p>"Before freedom old man Adam Stanhouse would give my pa a pass or his +pocket knife to show to go to see my ma. She lived at Dr. Harrison's +farm five miles apart. They all knowed Adam Stanhouse's knife. I don't +know how they would know it. He never let his Negroes be whooped unless +he said so. Owners didn't 'low the Ku Klux whoop hands on their place.</p> + +<p>"Adam Stanhouse brought my pa from Virginia with him. Some of them men +thought might near much of his slaves as they did their children. Or I +heard em say they seem to. My pa married my ma when she was thirteen +years old. They had nine children.</p> + +<p>"I heard ma say Dr. Harrison practiced medicine. His wife was named Miss +Lizzie. They had two boys and three girls.</p> + +<p>"Ma was a house girl. Pa was a field hand. One time traders come round +and ma's owner wanted to sell her and his wife objected. She wasn't sold +that time. I don't know if she was sold or not.</p> + +<p>"I don't know no more about that war than I do about the German war +(World War). I was a little boy when it was all over. I left South +Carolina in 1888. Ma was a part Red Indian and pa was a half Black Creek +Indian. I had two children before I left South Carolina. I was married +back there. I paid my own way and come to Fargo. I was trying to better +my condition. In 1896 I come to Brinkley. Before that I lived at Dark +Corner eight years. In 1920 ma and pa come to me and died with me. I +paid $25.00 for my second class ticket to Fargo—in 1888.</p> + +<p>"Since 1864 to 1937 I farmed, sawmilled, threshed, run a grist mill, run +a cotton gin and worked about em. I farmed eight or nine years across +the bayou here.</p> + +<p>"I own a home. My wife is living. I get 'demodities', no money. I got +two girls living. One girl is in New Jersey and one in Michigan. They +make their living.</p> + +<p>"I think the world is going on worse than ever I seen it. Folks can't +live without money. They don't try to raise their living no more. I +ain't no prophet. The world going to nothing way I see it."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StarnesIsom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Isom Starnes, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Marshall County, Alabama near Guntersville. Father belong +to the Starnes. They bought him in Alabama. My parents' name was Jane +and Burrel Starnes. They had two children I knew of. When they was set +free they left and started renting. I don't remember much that happened +before freedom. I picked up chips and put them in a split basket I just +could chin. I'd fill all the baskets and they would haul them up to put +under the iron skillet. Other chaps was picking up chips too. They used +some kinds to smoke the meat. I could tote water on my head and a bucket +in each hand. They was small buckets. We had to come up a path up the +hill. I stumped my toe on the rocks till they would bleed; sometimes it +looked like the nail would come off. My mother was a good cook. I don't +know what she was doing in slavery.</p> + +<p>"I been farming all my life. Yes, I owned ninety-eight acres in Alabama. +I had a home on it. I lost it. We brought a suit for water damage. We +lost it, I reckon. They fixed a dam that ruined my place. I left and +went to the North—to Springfield, Ohio. I started public work and +worked three or four months in a piano factory. I liked farming the best +and come back to it. My boys hope me down hill. I got two boys. My girl +left me all I got now. She is dead. I got a home and twenty-five acres +of ground. She made the money washing, ironing and farming. I 'plied for +the old folks' pension but didn't get it and give it up. I made four +bales cotton, one hundred pounds seed cotton. My place is half mile from +town. I have to get somebody to do all the work.</p> + +<p>"My father did vote. He voted a Republican ticket. I have voted but I +don't vote now. I voted a few days ago for a little cotton this year. It +was the cotton control election. I voted a Republican ticket. I found +out Democrat times is about the best time for us in the South. I quit +voting because I'm too old to keep up with it. If a woman owns +anything—land or house—she ought to be allowed to vote.</p> + +<p>"The times is mighty hard. I need a little money now and I can't get it +nowhere. It looks like bad times for me. The young folks don't work hard +as I did. I kept study (steady) at farming. I liked it. My race is the +best fitted for farming and that is where we belong. I never been in +jail. I never been arrested in my whole life."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's comment</b></p> + +<p>I stopped this clean, feeble, old Negro—humble as could be—on the edge +of town. He had a basket of groceries taking to his old wife. It was a +small split basket. His taxes worried him. He couldn't get a holt on any +money, so I told him about the Farmers' Loan. He was so scared looking I +felt he didn't tell me all he knew. He looked tired. I gave it up and +jokingly asked him if he had ever been in jail. He said, "I never been +in jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." I laughed good and +thanked him. I told a young woman who had curiously been trying to catch +the conversation from her yard that I feared I frightened the old man +till he couldn't think to tell me all he knew. She said, "Maybe so but +he has a reputation of being good as gold and his word his bond."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SteelHezekiah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Ky (Hezekiah) Steel<br> + West Fifth Avenue (rear), Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85<br> +Occupation: Yard man</h3> +<br> +<p>"What is it you want to know? Well, I was born in North Carolina. I know +they brought me here from North Carolina in slavery times. I couldn't +keep no count of it, lady, 'cause I didn't know. I know I was big enough +to walk behind the wagon pickin' up corn. I know that. That was in +slavery times.</p> + +<p>"Mr. June Ingraham's father brought me here.</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's a long time ago. Mr. June and I was boys together. I was +born in the Ingraham family.</p> + +<p>"They carried me from here to Texas. I stayed there till I was grown and +married. Then I come back to Arkansas I got with Mr. June's son and I +been here since.</p> + +<p>"Never have gone to school a day. Can't read but I can spell a little.</p> + +<p>"I've done most all kinds of work—split rails, cut wood, farm work, and +railroad work on the section.</p> + +<p>"Ku Klux come out there where I was in Texas. Didn't bother me—they was +just around first one place, then another.</p> + +<p>"I voted once. I guess it was Republican. I don't remember now who I +voted for. I didn't take much interest in politics—only just what I'd +hear somebody say.</p> + +<p>"Yankees was camped near us in Texas to keep the wild Indians back. That +was after the War. Yes'm, sure was.</p> + +<p>"I know the very night old missis told us we was free. Called all us +slaves up there together. Told us we was just as free as she was. I +always will remember that.</p> + +<p>"I stayed there till we got through the crop. Then I went to Paris, +Texas and portered in a little hotel there. Then I went +wagonin'—haulin' stuff.</p> + +<p>"They used to whip me in slavery times when they got ready. Need it? +well, they said I did. Hurt my feelin's and hurt my hide too, but they +raised me to do whatever they said.</p> + +<p>"This younger generation ain't no good—they ain't raised up like I was. +Things is a whole lot different than they used to be. The folks ain't +prayin' to God like they used to. Ain't livin' right.</p> + +<p>"I had two brothers killed in time of the War. That's what the old +people told me after I come back from Texas.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I've had plenty to eat all my life—up until now; I ain't got so +much now.</p> + +<p>"I keep the rheumatism pretty much all the time but I ain't never been +down sick so I couldn't help myself.</p> + +<p>"I'm telling you just what I know and what I don't know I couldn't tell +you. Good-bye."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StenhouseMaggie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Maggie Stenhouse,<br> + (a mile down the railway track),<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Mama was owned by Master Barton. She lived on the line of North +Carolina and South Carolina. Her husband was sold away from her and two +children. She never seen him no more. Rangments was made with Master +Barton to let Master Liege Alexander have her for a cook. Then she went +to Old Pickens, South Carolina. Liege Alexander had a white wife and by +her he had two girls and a boy. He had a black cook and by her he had +two boys and a girl. One of these boys was my papa and I told you the +old man bought my mama from Master Barton for his colored son. My papa +never was sold you see cause he was the old white man's boy. After his +white wife died his two girls married and the boy left Old Pickens, and +they told his colored wife and her two boys and girl if they would stay +and take care of him as long as he lived they could have the property. +My papa went off five or six miles and built him a log house.</p> + +<p>"The old man—Master Liege Alexander—was blind when his wife died and +he had to be tended to like a child. He would knock his stick on the +wall and some of the small children would lead him about where he wanted +to go. His white children didn't like the way he had lived so they +didn't want to be bothered with him.</p> + +<p>"My parents' names was Cheney Barton and Jim Alexander. Papa was medium +dark and so was his own brother but their sister was as white as the +woman's two girls and boy.</p> + +<p>"After the railroads sprung up the town moved to New Pickens.</p> + +<p>"Master Liege Alexander had lots of slaves and land. I reckon the white +wife's children fell heir to the farm land.</p> + +<p>"My aunt and grandma cooked for him till he died. They kept him clean +and took care of him like as if his white wife was living. The colored +wife and her girl waited on the white wife and her children like queens. +That is what papa said.</p> + +<p>"Durin' slavery there was stockmen. They was weighed and tested. A man +would rent the stockman and put him in a room with some young women he +wanted to raise children from. Next morning when they come to let him +out the man ask him what he done and he was so glad to get out. Them +women nearly kill him. If he said nothin' they wouldn't have to pay for +him. Them women nearly kill him. Some of the slave owners rented these +stockmen. They didn't let them work in the field and they kept them fed +up good.</p> + +<p>"Fore the Civil War broke out mama said Master Barton hid a half bushel +solid gold and silver coins over the mountains. He had it close to the +spring awhile. Mama had to go by it to tote water to the house. She said +she never bothered it. He said he could trust her and she wouldn't tell +a lie. He took another sack of money over the mountains and the +silverware. His wife died during the war. A lot of people died from +hearing of the war—heart failure. I don't know what become of his +money. He lost it. He may forgot where he hid it. It was after his wife +died that he sold mama to Jim Alexander's papa.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees rode three years over the country in squads and colored +folks didn't know they was free. I have seen them in their old uniforms +riding around when I was a child. White folks started talking about +freedom fore the darkies and turning them loose with the clothes they +had on and what they could tote away. No land, no home, no place; they +roamed around.</p> + +<p>"When it was freedom the thing papa done was go to a place and start out +share croppin'. Folks had no horses or mules. They had to plough new +ground with oxen. I ploughed when I was a girl, ploughed oxen. If you +had horses or mules and the Yankees come along three or four years after +the war, they would swap horses, ride a piece, and if they had a chance +swap horses again. Stealing went on during and long after the war.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux was awful in South Carolina. The colored folks had no +church to go to. They gather around at folks' houses to have preaching +and prayers. One night we was having it at our house, only I was the +oldest and was in another room sound asleep on the bed. There was a +crowd at our house. The Ku Klux come, pulled off his robe and door face, +hung it up on a nail in the room, and said, 'Where's that Jim Jesus?' He +pulled him out the room. The crowd run off. Mama took the three little +children but forgot me and run off too. They beat papa till they thought +he was dead and throwed him in a fence corner. He was beat nearly to +death, just cut all to pieces. He crawled to my bed and woke me up and +back to the steps. I thought he was dead—bled to death—on the steps. +Mama come back to leave and found he was alive. She doctored him up and +he lived thirty years after that. We left that morning.</p> + +<p>"The old white woman that owned the place was rich—big rich. She been +complaining about the noise—singing and preaching. She called him +Praying Jim Jesus till he got to be called that around. He prayed in the +field. She said he disturbed her. Mama said one of the Ku Klux she +knowed been raised up there close to Master Barton's but papa said he +didn't know one of them that beat on him.</p> + +<p>"Papa never did vote. I don't vote. I think women should vote much as +men. They live under the same law.</p> + +<p>"I come to Arkansas about forty-five years ago. Papa brought us to a new +country, thought we could do better. I been farming, cooking, washing. I +can't do my own cooking and washing now. I got rheumatism in my joints, +feet, knees, and hands. We don't get no help of no kind.</p> + +<p>"My daughter is in Caldwell, New Jersey at work. She went there to get +work. She heard about it and went and haven't come home. I jes' got one +child."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StephensCharlotteE"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg<br> +Person interviewed: Mrs. Charlotte E. Stephens<br> + 1420 West 15th Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> +<p>I was born right here in Little Rock. My father was owned by a splendid +family—the Ashleys. The family of Noah Badgett owned my mother and the +children. Pardon me, madam, and I shall explain how that was. In many +cases the father of children born in slavery could not be definitely +determined. There was never a question about the mother. From this you +will understand that the children belonged to the master who owned the +mother. This was according to law.</p> + +<p>My father's family name was Andrews. How did it happen that it was not +Ashley?... Oh, my dear, you have been misinformed about all slaves +taking the name of the master who owned them when peace came.... No, +madam. My father was named William Wallace Andrews after his father, who +was an English gentleman. He had come to Missouri in early days and +owned slaves.... Yes, my grandfather was white. The Ashleys brought my +father to Arkansas Territory when they came. They always permitted him +to keep his family name. Many other masters did the same.</p> + +<p>From the standpoint of understanding between the white and colored +races, Little Rock has always been a good place to live. The better +class families did not speak of their retainers as slaves; they were +called servants. Both my parents were educated by their masters. Besides +being a teacher and minister my father was a carpenter and expert +cabinet worker.</p> + +<p>The first school for Negroes in Little Rock was opened in 1863 and was +taught by my father. I went to school to him. A few months later there +came from the north a company of missionary teachers and opened a school +which I attended until 1867. My father was a minister of the Methodist +Episcopal church for colored people on what is now Eighth and Broadway. +He also had a chapel on the property of Mr. Ashley. You probably know +that during slavery days the slaves belonged to and attended the same +church as their white folks. They sat in the back, or in a balcony built +for them. My father was considered the founder of Wesley Chapel, which +was Methodist Episcopal. From that time until this day I have been a +member of that church. Seventy-three years, I think it is. Before the +break came in the Methodist church, you know, it was all the same, north +and south. After the division on account of slavery the Methodist church +in the south had the word "south" attached. For a long time my father +did not realize that. In 1863 he and his church went back into the +original Methodist church.</p> + +<p>In 1867 the Society of Friends—we called them Quakers—came and erected +a large two-story schoolhouse at Sixth and State streets. It was called +Union school. When it was built it was said by the Quakers that it was +to be for the use of colored children forever, but within a year or two +the city bought the property and took charge of the school. As far as I +can now recall, white and colored children never did attend the same +school in Little Rock. There have always been separate schools for the +races. I am able to remember the names of the first teachers in the +Quaker school; J.H. Binford was the principal and his sister taught the +primary department. Other teachers were Miss Anna Wiles (or Ware), Miss +Louise Coffin, Miss Lizzie Garrison, and Sarah Henley.</p> + +<p>I was about 11 years old when peace came and was living with my mother +and the other children on the Badgett plantation about 7 miles east of +Little Rock. Mother did laundry and general house work. Being a small +child, all that was asked of me was to run errands and amuse the little +white children. Madam, if I could tell you the great difference between +slave owners it would help you in understanding conditions of today +among the colored people. Both my father and my mother had peculiar +privileges. The Ashley family were exceptional slave owners; they +permitted their servants to hire their time. There was class +distinction, perhaps to greater extent than among the white people. Yes, +madam, the slaves who lived in the family with master and mistress were +taught just about the same as their own children. At any rate, they +imitated them in all matters; to speak with a low voice, use good +English, the niceties of manners, good form and courtesy in receiving +and attending guests.</p> + +<p>I began teaching in Little Rock schools when I was 15 years old and am +still teaching. In all, it is 69 years, and my contract is still good. +My first experience as a teacher, (as I told you I was fifteen) was by +substituting for a teacher in that first Missionary school, in 1869. For +some reason, she did not return, and the School Board appointed me in +her place. After one year I was given leave of absence to attend Oberlin +College in Ohio. I spent three years there, but not in succession. When +my money would give out I would come home and the School Board would +provide work for me until I could earn enough to carry me through +another term. I finished at Oberlin in 1873. I extended my work through +courses at Normal schools and Teacher's Institutes. I have taken lecture +courses in many colleges, notably the University of California in 1922. +I have taught all grades from the first to the twelfth. My principal +work, for the last 35 years, however, has been high school Latin and +English and Science.</p> + +<p>At present I am serving as librarian at the Senior high school and +Junior College. I have twice served as principal of city schools in +Little Rock. First at Capitol Hill. The Charlotte E. Stephens school at +18th and Maple was named in my honor. I have a book I have kept for 68 +years regarding those first schools, and I'm told it is the only one in +existence. I also have the first monthly report card ever issued in +Little Rock. Mr. Hall (Superintendent of Little Rock City Schools) has +asked me to will it to the School Board.</p> + +<p>I could recall many interesting events of those early schools for the +colored race. Old, old slaves came, desiring to learn to read and spell. +They brought the only books they could find, many of which proved to be +almanacs, paper bound novels discarded by their mistress and ancient +dictionaries, about half of which might be missing.</p> + +<p>Yes, madam, I do remember that the emancipated slaves were led to +believe they would be given property and have just what their masters +had been accustomed to enjoy. I remember hearing my mother tell, in +later years, that she really had expected to live as her mistress had; +having some one to wait upon her, plenty of money to spend, ride in a +carriage with a coachman. But she always added that the emancipated ones +soon found out that freedom meant more work and harder than they had +ever done before.</p> + +<p>What did they work at? Pardon me please for so often reminding you of +conditions of that time. Few of the trades workers were white. Brick +makers and brick layers, stone masons, lathers, plasters,—all types of +builders were of the freed men. You must remember that slaves were the +only ones who did this work. Their masters had used their labor as their +means of income. Not all slaves were in the cotton fields, as some +suppose. The slave owners of towns and villages had their slaves learn +skilled trade occupations and made a great deal of money by their +earnings. The Yankee soldiers and the many Northern people who lived +here hired the freed men and paid them. Quite soon the colored people +were buying homes. Many were even hired by their former masters and paid +for the work they formerly did without pay under slavery.</p> + +<p>I remember Bill Read and Dave Lowe. They had been coachmen before +freedom. By combining their first savings, they bought a hack, as it was +called. It was more of a cab. For all those who did not have private +conveyances, this was the only way of getting about town. It was Little +Rock's first taxi-cab business, I should say. Bill and Dave made a +fortune; they had a monopoly of business for years and eventually had +enough cabs to take the entire population to big evening parties, +theater, and all places where crowds would gather.</p> + +<p>No, madam, I do not recall that we had any inconvenience from the Ku +Klux Klan. If they made trouble in Little Rock I do not now remember it. +I did hear that out in the country they drove people from their homes. +Yes, madam, I do remember, quite distinctly, the times when colored men +were voted into public offices. John C. Corbin was State Superintendent +of Public Instruction. Phillips county sent two colored men to the +legislature; they were W.H. Gray and H.H. White, both from Helena. J.E. +Bush of this city followed M.W. Gibbs as Police Judge. After +reconstruction when all colored people were eliminated from public life +all these people returned to their trade.</p> + +<p>I was 22 when I married. My husband was a teacher but knew the carpenter +trade. During the time that Negroes served in public office he served as +deputy sheriff and deputy constable. He was with me for 41 years before +his death; we raised a family of six children and gave each one a +college education.</p> + +<p>Now, you have asked my opinion of present conditions of the younger +generation. It seems to me they are living in an age of confusion; they +seem to be all at sea as to what they should get for themselves. I do +know this. In some respects the modern frankness is an improvement over +the old suppression and repression in the presence of their elders. At +the same time, I think the young people of today lack the proper +reverence and respect for age and the experience it brings as a guide +for them. During my long years of teaching I have had opportunity to +study this question. I am still making a study of the many phases of +modern life as it affects the young people. I do not like the trend of +amusements of today; I would like for our young people to become +interested in things more worth while; in a higher type of amusement. +Conditions of morality and a lack of regard for conventions is +deplorable. Smoking among the girls has increased the common use of +liquor between the sexes.</p> + +<p>Did you ask me about the voting restrictions for the colored race in +this State? I will tell you frankly that I think the primary law here is +unjust; most unjust. We are citizens in every other respect; the primary +voting privilege should be ours also. This restriction has been +explained as coming down from "the grandfather clause" inserted in early +legislation. I cannot give you the exact wording of the clause but the +substance was that no person whose ancestor—grandfather—was not +entitled to vote <u>before</u> 1863 should have the right to the ballot. +Of course it is readily seen that this clause was written purely for the +purpose of denying the vote to the colored people.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, madam, my talk has been too much along educational lines. You +asked me about my life since freedom came and how I have lived to the +present time. I have had the blessed privilege of being a teacher—of +doing the work I love best of all in the world to do. I have written the +story of my life work; it is all ready to be published. I have written +"The Story of Negro Schools in Little Rock" and "Memoirs of Little +Rock." Madam, I have written, I suppose, what would amount to volumes +for our church papers and local Negro newspaper. My daughter was, at one +time, editor of the Womens' Page. No, I'm indeed sorry that I have not +kept a scrapbook of such writings. In these latter years my friends +scold me for having destroyed all the papers as fast as they were read. +The most of the news in the articles, however, I have used in the +manuscripts of the books I hope to have published.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StevensWilliamJ"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: William J. Stevens, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: Up in 70's</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was born in Pleasant Hill, Alabama. My owners were Haley and Missouri +Stevens. They owned Grandma Mary. Pa was born on the place. Mother was +sold from the Combesses to Stevens. Mother's mother was a Turk Dark +Creek Indian. She was a free woman. Her name was Judy. I called her +Grandma Judy. She was old but not gray. She had long black hair as I +remember her. Mother was named Millie. Haley bought her for my pa. <u>My +pa's father was Haley Stevens' own son</u>. He was his coachman. Pa +never worked a great deal. Mother never cooked till after emancipation. +She was the house girl and nurse. Life moved along smoothly as much as I +ever heard till freedom come on. The Indians was independent folks. My +mother was like that. Haley Stevens took his family to Texas soon as +freedom come on. Mother went with them. They treated her so nicely. Pa +wouldn't follow. He said she thought more of them than she did him. He +kept me with him. He married again. He was a barber at Selma, Alabama. +He died a barber at Anniston, Alabama. While my mother was in Texas she +went to see her mother in Hickory, Alabama. She was talking with a +tramp. He had helped my pa in the shop at Selma. Mother took the train +and come to pa's and my stepmother's house. I was fourteen years old +then and still wore a long shirt-like dress. They treated her the nicest +kind. She told them she was married to a man named Sims down in +Mississippi. She went back. I don't know where. The barber business was +a colored man's trade in the early days.</p> + +<p>"Soon after freedom I made two trips a day and carried my young +mistress' books to school. It was a mile for us to go 'round the road to +Pleasant Hill. She married C.C. Williams. I cooked for her. I cooked her +daughter's weddin' supper. She had two girls, Maude and Pearl. I worked +there fourteen years for my clothes and something to eat. Then I went to +myself. When I wasn't cooking I worked in Mr. C.C. Williams' sash and +blind factory. They was big rich folks. Mrs. Williams had a hundred rent +houses. She went about in her carriage and collected rent. That was at +Meridian, Mississippi. They learned me more than an education—to work. +She learned me to cook. I cooked all my life. I cooked here at the +Rusher Hotel till I got so old I was not able to do the work.</p> + +<p>"I do little odd jobs of work where I can find them. I 'plied for the +Old Age Pension but they give me commodities and that's all. I supports +my own self such as it be.</p> + +<p>"I find the young generation don't stick to jobs like I had to do. Seems +like they want an education to keep them out of work. Education does +some good and some more harm than good. Oh, times! Times is going fast. +Well with some I reckon. Some like me is done left. I mean I got slower. +Time getting faster. I'm done left outen the game. Time wait for no +man."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StewartMinnieJohnson"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Minnie Johnson Stewart<br> + 3210 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: Between 50 and 60?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My mother's name was Mahala McElroy. Her master's name was Wiley +McElroy. She was living in Howard County, Arkansas near Nashville. She +worked in the field, and sewed in the house for her mistress. One time +she said she never would forget about slavery was a time when she was +thirteen years old, and the overseer beat her.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a real bright woman with great long black hair. Her +master was her father. She told me that the overseer grabbed her by her +hair and wound it 'round his arm and then grabbed her by the roots of it +and jerked her down to the ground and beat her till the blood ran out of +her nose and mouth. She was 'fraid to holler.</p> + +<p>"Mother married when she was fourteen. I can't remember the name of her +husband. The preacher was an old man, a faith doctor, who read the +ceremony. His name was Lewis Hill.</p> + +<p>"I heard mother say they beat my brother-in-law (his name was Dave +Denver) till he was bloody as a hog. Then they washed him down in salt +and water. Then they beat him again because he hollered.</p> + +<p>"She told us how the slaves used to try to pray. They were so scared +that the overseer would see them that early in the morning while they +were going to their work in the field at daybreak that they would fall +down on one knee and pray. They were so 'fraid that the overseer would +catch them that they would be watching for him with one eye and looking +for God with the other. But the Lord understood.</p> + +<p>"My mother was seventy years old when she died. She has been dead thirty +years."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StiggersLiza"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Liza Stiggers, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70 plus</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Poplar Grove, Arkansas on Col. Bibbs' place. Mama was +sold twice. Once she was sold in Georgia, once in Alabama, and brought +to Tennessee, later to Arkansas. Master Ben Hode brought her to +Arkansas. She had ten children and I'm the only one living. Mama was a +dancing woman. She could dance any figure. They danced in the cabins and +out in the yards.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees come one day to our house and I crawled under the house. I +was scared to death. They called me out. I was scared not to obey and +scared to come on out. I come out. They didn't hurt me. Mr. Ben Hode hid +a small trunk of money away. He got it after the War. The slaves never +did know where it was hid. They said the hair was on the trunk he hid +his money in. It was made out of green hide for that purpose.</p> + +<p>"Mama had a slave husband. He was a field hand and all kind of a hand +when he was needed. Mama done the sewing for white and black on the +place. She was a maid. She could cook some in case they needed her. She +died first. Papa's foot got hurt some way and it et off. He was so old +they couldn't cure it. He was named Alfred Hode. Mama was Viney Hode. +She said they had good white folks. They lived on Ben Hode's place two +or three years after freedom.</p> + +<p>"I farmed, cooked, and ironed all my life. I don't know how to do +nothing else.</p> + +<p>"I live with my daughter. I got a son."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StithJamesHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: James Henry Stith<br> + 2223 W. Nineteenth Street<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born la Sparta in Hancock County, Georgia, in January 26, 1866. +My father was named William Henry Stith, and I was a little tot less +than two years old when my mother died. My father has called her name +often but I forget it. I forget the names of my father's father, too, +and of mother's people. That is too far back.</p> + +<p>"My father was born in 1818. He was born in Georgia. His master was +named W.W. Simpson. He had a master before Simpson. Simpson bought him +from somebody else. I never can remember the man's name.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Houses</b></p> + +<p>"The first houses I saw in Georgia were frame or brick houses. There +weren't any log houses 'round where I was brought up. Georgia wasn't a +log house state—leastwise, not the part I lived in. In another part +there were plenty of sawmills. That made lumber common. You could get +longleaf pine eighty to ninety feet long if you wanted it. Some little +towns didn't have no planing mills and you would have to send to Augusta +or to Atlanta for the planing work or else they would make planed lumber +by hand. I have worked for four and five weeks at a time dressing +lumber—flooring, ceiling, siding, moldings, and so on.</p> + +<p>"My father was still with Simpson when I remembered anything. At that +time the house we lived in was a weatherboarded house just like the ones +we live in now. It was a house that had been built since freedom. Old +man Simpson sent for my father and told him to build a house for himself +on the grounds. My father had been with Simpson for so long and had done +so much work for him during slave time that Simpson didn't want to do +without him. He supplied all the lumber and materials for my father. +During slave time, Simpson had hired my father out to the other planters +when he had nothing for him to do in the line of building on his own +plantation. He had had him to superintend his grist mill. All that was +in slavery time. My father was a highly skilled laborer. He could do a +lot of other things besides building. So when freedom came, he wanted my +father 'round him still. They both fished and hunted. He wanted my +father to go fishing with him and keep him company. My father was a +carpenter of the first class, you see, even in slave time. That was all +he done. He was brought up to be a carpenter and did nothing but that +all his time. My daddy was a mighty good mechanic.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Master</b></p> + +<p>"My daddy's master was a very good and kind one. My father was not under +any overseer. He worked directly under his master.</p> + +<p>"I remember one incident he told me. His master hired a new overseer who +hung around for a bit watching my father. Finally, my father asked him, +'Now, what are you able to do?' The overseer answered. 'Why, I can see +all over and whip all over, and that's as much as any damn man can do.'</p> + +<p>"Nobody was allowed to touch my father. He never had no trouble with the +pateroles either. Old man Simpson didn't allow that. He was a free +agent. When he wasn't working for Simpson, he was working for the next +big farmer, and then the next one, and then the next one, and old man +Simpson got wages for his work. Sometimes he worked a contract. Old man +Simpson couldn't afford to have him handicapped in his going and coming. +He could go whenever he wanted to go, and come back whenever he got +ready, with a pass or without one. His time was valuable.</p> + +<p>"The reason why so many slaves suffered as much as they did as a rule +was not because of the masters but because of the poor white trash +overseers. I know of several rich white women that had slaves that +wouldn't allow them to be mistreated. They would fire four and five +overseers to keep their slaves from being mistreated.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Mean Masters</b></p> + +<p>"But there were some mean masters. I have heard that right there in +Georgia there was one white planter—I think it was Brantley---who put +one of his slaves that had been unruly in a packing screw and ran it +down on him till he mashed him to death. The cotton screw was the thing +they pressed cotton bales in. They run it down by steam now, but then, +they used to run it down with two mules. They tell a lot of things like +that on Brantley. Of course, I couldn't personally know it, but I know +he was mighty mean and I know the way he died.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Bushwhacking the Ku Klux</b></p> + +<p>"He belonged to the paterole gang and they went out after the Negroes +one night after freedom. The Negroes bushwhacked them and killed four or +five of them. They give it out that the men that was killed had gone to +Texas. Brantley was one of the killed ones. The pateroles was awful bad +at that time. Ku Klux they called them after the War, but they was the +same people. I never heard of the Klan part till this thing come up that +they have now. They called them Ku Klux back when I was a boy. My +stepmother carried me over to Brantley's house the night he got killed. +So I know the Texas he went to. That was in '69 or '70. He lived about a +mile from us and when he got killed, she carried me over to see him just +like we would have gone to see any other neighbor.</p> + +<p>"The Negroes were naturally afraid of the Ku Klux but they finally got +to the place where they were determined to break it up. They didn't have +no ropes, but they would take grapevines and tie them across the road +about breast high when a man would be on horseback. The Ku Klux would +run against these vines and be knocked off their horses into the road +and then the bushwhackers would shoot them. When Ku Klux was killed in +this manner, it was never admitted; but it was said that they had gone +to Texas. There was several of them went to Texas one night.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"There weren't many amusements in slave times. They had dances with +fiddle music. There was mighty few darkies could get out to go to dances +because the pateroles was so bad after them. I don't know of any other +amusements the slaves had. They were playing baseball when I was born. +There were boys much older than I was already playing when I was old +enough to notice, so I think they must have known about it in slave +time. They didn't play much in that way because they didn't have time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slaves who Bought Themselves</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard tell of some Negroes that was thrifty and got money enough +from side work to buy themselves. They had to go North then because they +couldn't live in the South free. I don't remember their names just now.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Church</b></p> + +<p>"The slaves had church. Sometimes they had church at one another's +house. I don't think they ever built them a church house. But they could +go to the white folks' church if they wanted to.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"My daddy's master told my father he was free. He told him that in 1865. +He told him that he was free to do as he pleased, that he could come +when he pleased and go when he pleased. 'Course, he told him he wanted +him to stay around him—not to go off.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard my father speak of soldiers, but they were too busy 'round +Atlanta and up that way to git down where my father was. They don't seem +to have bothered his town. They never made my father do any labor in the +army neither. My father was mixed Indian, white, and Negro.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"Slaves had to get the consent of their masters to marry. Sometimes +masters would want them to go and would even buy the woman they wanted +to keep them contented on the plantation. Sometimes the masters wouldn't +do anything but let them visit. They would marry—what they called +marriage in those days—and the husband would have to git permission +from his master to go visit his wife and git permission from her master +to come there. He would go on Saturday night and get back in time for +his work on Monday morning. It was just like raising stock and mating +it.</p> + +<p>"I have been married fifty-one years. I have been married twice though. +My first wife died in 1900. I have been married to my second wife +thirty-four years last April. Those were real marriages.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"I can't say much along these lines. The chance to make a living looks +so dark I can't see much of a future. Things seem to be getting worse. +Nearly everybody I talk with, white or colored, seems to think the same. +It is like Senator Glass said. 'If Congress would close up and go home +at once, times would get better.' People don't know what kind of fool +law Congress is going to make and they are not going to spend much +money. I don't think Mr. Roosevelt's pump priming will do much good +because you must keep adding to it or it will go away.</p> + +<p>"I don't think much of the young people. These nineteenth or twentieth +century Negroes is something fierce I'm telling you.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"I am a carpenter. I wish I wasn't. The depression has made it so that +the Negroes get very little to do. What they have they give to their own +people. They don't have much for nobody. Even if the nigger gets +something, he gets very little out of it. But the main trouble is there +isn't anything to do.</p> + +<p>"I have been a carpenter for fifty-four years. I have been here +fifty-one years. I have never had no trouble earning a living till now. +I can't do it now. The biggest obstacle of the success of the Negro +carpenter is that Negroes don't have the money to build with. They must +get the money from the white man. The white man, on the other hand, if +he lets out the money for the building, has the say-so on who will do +it, and he naturally picks out another white man. That keeps the +majority of Negroes out of work as far as carpentry is concerned. It +does in a time like this. When times is better, the white man does not +need to be so tight, and he can divide up."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StoutCaroline"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella Anderson, colored<br> +Caroline Stout</h3> +<br> + +<p><b>EX-SLAVES</b></p> + +<p>I was born in Alabama in slavery time. I was sold from my mother after I +was five years old and never did see her again. Was sold to a family by +the name of Mr. Games. There were six of them in family and I was the +seventh. They were very nice to me until I was about 10 years of age. I +would attend to the little kids. They were all boys. Had to sleep on +straw beds and been cooking for myself ever since I was 8 years old. +When about ten they started putting hard work on me and had to pick +cotton and do the work around the house. Was a slave for about 15 years. +After I was freed I moved to Union County and been here ever since.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StreetFelix"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Felix Street<br> + 822 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>I was born in Dickson County, Tennessee, fifty miles north of Nashville, +in 1864. It was on December twenty-eighth. My father told me when he was +living how old I was. He told me all the way along, and I remember it.</p> + +<p>"Nannie, Jeff, Hardy, John Mack, and Felix (that's me) are my father's +children by his first wife. Lena, Martha, Esther are his children by his +second wife. He had five children by my mother, and four of them lived +to be grown, and one died in infancy. My mother was his first wife. Her +name was Mary Street. Her name before she married—hold a minute, lemme +see—seems like it was Mary—Mary—Street.</p> + +<p>"My father and my mother couldn't have lived on the same plantation +because she was a May and he was a Street. I don't know how they met.</p> + +<p>"My father's master's name was Jick Street. He owned, to my knowing, my +father, Bill Street; Henry Street, and Ed Street. He might have owned +more but I heard my father say he owned those.</p> + +<p>"My father said his white people weren't very wealthy. He and his +brother had to go and cut cordwood, both summer and winter. And they was +allowed so much work for a task. Their task was nine cords a week for +each man. That was equal to a cord and a half a day for each man each +day. My father would cut his wood like a man ought to cut it. But he +said my uncle wouldn't git at his task. He would drink whiskey all the +week. They'd get after him about bein' behind with his work, but he +would say, 'Never mind that; I won't be behind Monday morning.' On +Sunday morning at nine o'clock, he would get up and begin to cut on that +wood. And on Monday morning at nine o'clock, he would have nine cords +cut for his white folks and four or five for himself. It would all be +done before nine o'clock Monday morning.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Living Brother</b></p> + +<p>"I recently seen my brother Jeff Davis Street. I haven't seen him before +for sixty-one years. He blew in here from Texas with a man named +Professor Smuggers. He lives in Malakoff, Texas. It's been sixty-one +years since he was where I could see him, but he says he saw me +fifty-nine years ago. He came back home and I was 'sleep, he says, and +he didn't wake me up. He rambled around a little and stood and looked at +me awhile, he says. He was seventeen years old and I was twelve.</p> + +<p>"My brother had a lot of children. He had four girls with him. He had a +boy somewheres. He is older than I am.</p> + +<p>"I heard my father say that in time of war, they were taking up folks +that wouldn't join them and putting them in prison. They picked a white +fellow up and had him tied with a rope and carried him down to a creek +and were tying him up by his thumbs. He saw my father coming and said: +'There's a colored man I know.' My father said he knew him. They let him +go when my father said he knew him and that he didn't harbor +bushwhackers. Every time he saw my father after that he would say, +'Bill, you sure did save my life.'</p> + +<p>"My father and mother lived in a log cabin. They had homemade furniture. +They had a bunk up side the wall and a trundle bed. That was the cabin +they lived in in slavery time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"My father said once that when the men were gone, the soldiers came in +and asked the women to cook for them. They wouldn't do it; so the +soldiers made them bring them a chunk of fire. They throwed the fire on +the bed and when it got to burning good, the officer wouldn't let them +put it out. But he told them that they could get some of the boys to +help them carry out their things if the boys were willing to do it. It +was the officers who wanted the women to cook for them. It wasn't the +slaves they asked; it was the white folks.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Sold His Master</b></p> + +<p>"I heard my stepmother—I call her my mother—say some thing once. She +belonged to a white family named Bell. They had a lot of slaves. My +stepmother was the house girl; so she could get on to a lot of things +the others couldn't. She stayed in the house. That was in slavery times. +The speculators who were buying colored folks would put up at that +place. Looked like a town but it all belonged to one person. The name of +the place was Cloverdale, Tennessee. My stepmother said that a gang of +these folks put up at Cloverdale once and then went on to Nashville, +Tennessee. On the next day a nigger sold the speculator. He was educated +and a mulatto, and he sold his master in with a bunch of other niggers. +He was just fixin' to take the money, when his master got aware of it, +and come on up just in time. I don't know what happened to the nigger. +It was just an accident he got caught. My stepmother said it was true.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"My mother had a good master. At least, she said he was good. Slaves +from other plantations would run away and come to her master's place to +stay. They would stay a good while.</p> + +<p>"My father said his master was good to him too. My father's young master +has come to see us since the War. He got down low and used to come +'round. My father would give him turns of corn. You know when you used +to go to the mill, you would carry about two bushels of corn and call it +a milling or a turn. My father would let his young master shell a bushel +or two of corn and carry it to the mill. He got poor and sure 'nough you +see. We had moved away from them then, and he got in real hard luck. He +used to come and sit a half day at a time at our house. And father would +give him the corn for his family. We were living in Dickson County, +Tennessee then. Seems like we was on Frank Hudson's place. We hadn't +bought a place for ourselves then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"You know they used to ku klux the niggers. They went to the house after +the War of an old man named Hall. They demanded for him to let them in +but he wouldn't. They said that they would break open the door if he +didn't let them in. He didn't let them in, and they broke it down. When +they started in, his wife threw fire brands in amongst 'em and he +knicked one down with an ax. Them that wasn't hurt carried the wounded +man away and it was reported the next day that he was sick. They never +did bother the nigger no more and he never had no charges made against +him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Runaway Negroes—After Freedom</b></p> + +<p>"It was over forty years ago. Me and my wife lived at a big sawmill near +Elliott, Arkansas, just ten miles outside of Camden. White folks used to +come up there and catch niggers and carry them back to Louisiana with +them, claiming that they owed debts. One time two white men came to +Elliott looking for a nigger. They came through the Negro quarters and +all the men were off that day because it was a holiday. The nigger saw +them first and ran to the woods. They ran after him and caught him. They +came back through the quarters and tied him to one of the horses and +then went on to Louisiana—them ridin' and him walkin' tied up with his +arms behind him and roped to the horse like he was some kind of cattle +or something. The niggers followed them with guns a little distance, but +one nigger telephoned to El Dorado and the officers there were on the +lookout for them. At night, the officers in plain clothes went over and +chatted with them white men. When they saw the nigger, they asked what +it was they had there. They told the one that asked that it was a damn +nigger that owed money back in Louisiana and got smart and run away +without paying up. The officers drew their guns and put handcuffs on +them and carried them and the nigger away to Jail.</p> + +<p>"They put everybody in jail that night. But the next morning they +brought them to trial and fined the white men a hundred and fifty +dollars apiece and after the trial they turned the nigger loose. That +broke up the stealing of niggers. Before that they would come and take a +Negro whenever they wanted to.</p> + +<p>"Niggers were just beginning to wake up then, and know how to slip away +and run off. We had whole families there that had run off one by one. +The man would run away and leave his children, and as they got old +enough, they would follow him one by one.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After the War</b></p> + +<p>"Right after the War, my people farmed on shares. We had a place we +leased on the Hudson place that we stayed on. We leased it for five +years but we stayed there seven or maybe eleven years. When we left +there we bought a place of our own. On the Hudson place we cleared up +about thirty acres of land and 'tended it as long as we stayed there. We +put out a lot of fruit trees on it. Had lots of peaches, and plums, and +quinces—do you know what quinces are?—and danvils (these danvil plums +you know). They are kinda purple looking fruit made in the shape of a +prune. They are about two inches through—jus' about half as big as your +fist.</p> + +<p>"When we moved to our own place, we stayed in the same county. It was +just about three-fourths of a mile from the Hudson place—west of it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Moving to Arkansas</b></p> + +<p>"I came to Arkansas with the intention of going to school. But I jus' +messed myself up. Instead of goin' to school, I went and got married. I +was out here just one year before I got married. I married the first +time in 1887—February fourteenth, I think. My first wife taken sick +with rheumatism and she died in 1908. We were married thirty-one years. +I married again about 1913.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"When I was able to work, I worked in the railroad shops—boiler maker's +helper. Before that I farmed and did other things. Went from trackman to +machinist's helper and boilermaker's helper.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"Young folks Just need the right handlin'.</p> + +<p>"I don't mix in politics."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TabonMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Tabon, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 67</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Pa was sold twice to my knowing. He was sold to McCoy, then to +Alexander. He was Virginian. Then he was carried to Alabama and brought +to Holly Grove by the Mayos. I have wore four names, Alexander, Adams, +Morgan, and Tabon.</p> + +<p>"My mother's owners was Ellis from Alabama. She said she was sold from +the Scales to Ellis. Her father, sister, and two brothers was sold from +Ellis. She never seen them no more. They found Uncle Charles Ellis dead +in the field. They never knowed how it come.</p> + +<p>"My parents had hard times during slavery. Ma had a big scar on her +shoulder where the overseer struck her with a whoop. She was chopping +cotton. She either wasn't doing to suit him or wasn't getting along fast +enough to suit him.</p> + +<p>"Ma had so many little ones to raise she give me to Nancy Bennett. I +love her soul in her grave. I helped her to do all her work she taught +me. She'd leave me with her little boy and go to church and I'd make +cakes and corn bread. She brag on me. We'd have biscuits on Sunday +morning. They was a rarity.</p> + +<p>"One day she had company. She told me to bake some potatoes with the +jackets on. I washed the potatoes and wrapped them up in rags and boiled +them. It made her so mad she wet the towel and whooped me with it. I +unwrapped the potatoes and we had them that way for dinner. That was the +maddest she ever got at me. She learned me to cook and keep a nice house +and to sew good as anybody. I rather know how to work than be educated.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Ash give me a lot of scraps from his garment factory. I made them +up in quilts. He give me enough to make three dresses. I needed dresses +so bad." (One dress has sixty-six pieces in it but it didn't look like +that. They sent it to Little Tock and St. Louis for the county fairs. +Her dresses looked fairly well.)</p> + +<p>"I was born at Holly Grove, Arkansas. Alexander was the name my pa went +by and that was my maiden name."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TannerLizaMoore"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Liza Moore Tanner, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in north Georgia. It was not fer from Rome. We belong to +Master Belton Moore and Miss Jane Moore. They had a big family, some +grandchildren old as their own. That was my job playing wid the +children. My parents' name Rob Moore and Pilfy Calley. She lived five +miles from Belton Moore's house. She was hired out over at Moore's the +way she and papa met up. I know now I was hired out too. I run after +them children a long time it seemed like to me. I loved them and they +cried after me. I get so tired I'd slip off and go up in the loft and +soon be asleep. I learned to climb a ladder that very way. It was nailed +up straight against the side of the wall. They'd ask me where I been. +They never did whoop me fer that. I tell 'em I been asleep. I drapped +off 'sleep. I was so tired. Papa helped with the young calves and the +feeding and in the field too. Mama was a fast hand in the field. They +called her a little guinea woman. She could outdo me when I was grown +and she was getting old. She washed fer the Calley's. All I remember +they was a old man and woman. Mama lived in the office at their house. +He let her ride a horse to Moore's to work. I rode home wid her many a +time. She rode a side saddle. I rode sideways too. She used a battling +stick long as she lived when she washed.</p> + +<p>"Papa died two years after the surrender in Atlanta, Georgia. The +Moore's moved there and he went along. He left mama at Master Calley's +and I was still kept at the old home place. Aunt Jilly kept me and my +two oldest sisters. Her name was Jilly Calley. I seen mama right often. +They fetched papa back to see us a few times and then he died. We all +went to Atlanta where he was buried. Mama lived to be purty nigh a +hundred years old. She had fourteen children. I had two sisters and +eight half-brothers and three half-sisters. Some died so young they +never was named. My stepfather was mean to her and beat her, caused some +of their deaths. She was a midwife in her later years. She made us a +living till I married. She was gone with Dr. Harrison a lot. He'd come +take her off and bring her home in the buggy. I married and immigrated +to Dell, Arkansas. We lived there a year and went to Memphis. Mama come +there and died at my house. She got blind. Had to lead her about. My +steppapa went off and never come back. He got drunk whenever he could +get to it. We hunted him and asked about him. I think he went off with +other women. We heard he did.</p> + +<p>"Freedom—I heard Miss Jane say when she was packing up to go to +Atlanta, 'I will get a nurse there. They will make her go to school.' I +thought she was talking about me. I wanted to go. I loved the children. +I got to go to school in the country a right smart. I can read and +write. Me and my two sisters all was in the same class. It seemed +strange then. We had a colored man teacher, Mr. Jacobin. It was easier +for me to learn than my sisters. They are both dead now.</p> + +<p>"I got three living children—one here and two in Memphis. After I got +my hip broke I live about with them so they can wait on me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about this new way of living. My daughter in Memphis +raising her little girl by a book. She don't learn her as much manners +as children used to know. She got it from the white lady she works for. +It tells how to do your child. Times done changed too much to suit my +way of knowing. 'The Old Time Religion' is the only good pattern fer +raising a family. Mighty little of that now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="TatumFannie"></a> +Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson<br> +Person interviewed: Fannie Tatum, Junction City, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1862</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born on Wilmington landing in 1862 on the Ouachita River and was +carried away when I was two years old. My mother ran away and left my +sister and me when we was three and five years old. I never saw her any +more till I was eight and after I was eight years old I never saw her +again in forty years. After my mama left me old Master Neal come here to +El Dorado and had me bound to him until I was twenty-one. I stayed there +till I was twenty-one. I slept by the jamb of the fireplace on a sack of +straw and covered with saddle blankets. That was in the winter when snow +was waist high. In summer I slept on naked floor and anywhere I laid +down was my bed just like a dog.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't allowed to eat at the table. I et on the edge of the porch +with the dogs with my fingers. I worked around the house and washed +until I was nine and then I started to plowing. At ten I started +splitting rails. My task was two hundred rails a day. If I didn't cut +them I got a beating. I did not know what a coat was. I wore two pieces, +a lowel[HW:?] underskirt and a lowel[HW:?] dress, bachelor brogans and +sacks and rags wrapped around my legs for stockings. That was in winter. +Summer I went barefooted and wore one piece. My sun hat was a rag tied +on my head.</p> + +<p>"I did not know anything about Sunday School nor church. The children +would try to teach me my ABC's but master would not let them. Never +visited any colored people. If I see a colored person coming I run from +them. They said they might steal me. After I got grown they let me go to +a colored party and they whipped me for going. Tried to make me tell +whether or not a boy come home with me but I did not tell it; one come +with me though. That was the first time I got out. Of course they sent +one of the boys along with me but he would not tell on me.</p> + +<p>"I never slept in a bed until I was twenty-two years old. Never was with +any colored people until I was grown. My play was with white children. +My father was a white man. He was my ma's old master and they was Neals. +They kept my hair cut off like a boy's all the time. I never wore a +stocking until I was twenty-two and my hair did not grow out and get +combed until I was twenty-two. My old master and mistress would have +been mean to me but I was so smart they did not get a chance. The only +thing I was treated like a dog.</p> + +<p>"I live in Junction City but am here visiting my daughter."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorAnthony"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Anthony Taylor<br> + 2424 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68, or 78?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Clark County adjoining Hot Spring County, between Malvern +and Arkadelphia. Clark County was named after old man General Clark. He +was worth four or five thousand acres of land.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Anthony McClellan. Why they called me Anthony +Taylor was my stepfather was named Taylor. My mother's name was Lettie +Sunnaville. My mother has been dead thirty or forty years and my father +died six months before I was born. He died a natural death. Sickness. He +was exposed and died of pneumonia.</p> + +<p>"Fayette Sunnaville was my grandfather on my mother's side. That was my +mother's father. Rachel Sunnaville was my mother's mother's name. I +don't know the names of my father's people. They was <u>sole</u>[HW:?] +in slavery. But it is been so far back; I don't remember nothing, and I +don't know whether they would or not if they was living.</p> + +<p>"We stayed on the old plantation for seven or eight years before we had +sense enough or knowed enough to get away from there and git something +for ourselves. That is how I come to raise such big potatoes. I been +raising them fifty years. These are hill potatoes. You have to know how +to raise potatoes to grow 'em this big. (He showed me some potatoes, +sweet, weighing about seven pounds—ed.)</p> + +<p>"I have heard my mother and my grandfather tell lots of stories about +slavery. I can't remember them.</p> + +<p>"Old man Bullocks had about eight or ten families that I knew about. +Those were the families that lived right near us in the quarters. I +didn't say eight or ten hands—I said eight or ten families. Them was +the ones that was right near us. We was awful small after freedom but +them what was with him stayed with him quite a while—stayed with the +old master. He would pay them so much after freedom come.</p> + +<p>"Lawd. I could tell you things about slavery. But I'm forgitful and I +can't do it all at once. He had the whole county from Arkadelphia clean +down to Princeton and Tulip—our old mars did. Lonoke was between +Princeton and Tulip. Princeton was the county-seat. He must have had a +large number of slaves. Those ten families I knew was just those close +'round us. Most of the farm was <u>fur</u> pine country land. There +would be thirty or forty acres over here of cultivation and then thirty +or forty acres over there of woods and so on. He had more land than +anybody else but it wasn't all under cultivation.</p> + +<p>"He's been dead now twenty or thirty years. I don't know that he was +mean to his slaves. If he had been, they wouldn't have gone on after +freedom. They would have moved out. You see, they didn't care for +nothing but a little something to eat and a fine dress and they would +have gone on to somebody else and got that.</p> + +<p>"Wasn't no law then. He was the law. I worked all day long for ten cents +a day. They would allowance you so many pounds of meat, so much meal, so +much molasses. I have worked all day for ten cents and then gone out at +night to get a few potatoes. I have pulled potatoes all day for a peck +of meal and I was happy at that. I never did know what the price of +cotton was.</p> + +<p>"Where we was, the Ku Klux never did bother anybody. All there was, +every time we went out we had to have a pass.</p> + +<p>"My grandfather and grandmother were both whipped sometimes. I don't +know the man that whipped them. I don't know whether it was the agent or +the owner or who, but they were whipped. Lots of times they had work to +do and didn't do it. Naturally they whipped them for it. That was what +they whipped my grandparents for. Sometimes too, they would go off and +wouldn't let the white folks know where they was going. Sometimes they +would neglect to feed the horses or to milk the cows—something like +that. That was the only reason I ever heard of for punishing them.</p> + +<p>"I heard that if the boss man wanted to be with women that they had, the +women would be scared not to be with him for fear he would whip them. +And when they started whipping them for that they kept on till they got +what they wanted. They would take them 'way off and have dealings with +them. That is where so much of that yellow and half-white comes from.</p> + +<p>"There was some one going through telling the people that they was free +and that they was their own boss. But yet and still, there's lots of +them never did leave the man they was with and lots of them left. There +was lots of white people that wouldn't let a nigger tell their niggers +that they was free, because they wanted to keep them blind to that for +years. Kept them for three or four years anyway. Them that Bullocks +liked was crazy about him. He would give them a show—so much a month +and their keeps. I don't remember exactly how much it was but it was +neighborhood price. He was a pretty good man. Of course, you never seen +a white man that wouldn't cheat a little.</p> + +<p>"He'd cheat you out of a little cotton. He would have the cotton carried +to the gin. He would take half the corn and give us five or six shoats. +After he got the cotton all picked and sold, the cotton it would all go +to him for what you owed him for furnishing you. You never saw how much +cotton was ginned, nor how much he got for it, nor how much it was worth +nor nothing. They would just tell you you wasn't due nothing. They did +that to hold you for another year. You got nothing to move on so you +stay there and take what he gives you.</p> + +<p>"Of all the crying you ever heard, one morning we'd got up and the pigs +and hogs in the lot that we had fattened to go on that winter, he was +catching them. After we'd done fattened them with the corn that was our +share, he took 'em and sold 'em. We didn't even know we owed him +anything. We thought the crops had done settled things. Nobody told us +nothin'. All we children cried. The old man and the old woman didn't say +nothing, because they was scared. My mother would get up and go down and +milk the cows and what she'd get for the milking would maybe be a bucket +of buttermilk.</p> + +<p>"We'd have a spoonful of black molasses and corn bread and buttermilk +for breakfast. We got flour bread once a week. We would work hard all +the week talkin' 'bout what good biscuits we'd have Sunday morning. Sack +of flour would last two or three months because we wouldn't cook flour +bread only once a week—Saturday night or Sunday morning.</p> + +<p>"We had no skillet at that time. We would rake the fireplace and push +the ashes back and then you would put the cake down on the hearth or on +a piece of paper or a leaf and then pull the ashes over the cake to cook +it. Just like you roast a sweet potato. Then when it got done, you would +rake the ashes back and wash the cake and you would eat it. Sometimes +you would strike a little grit or gravel in it and break your teeth. But +then I'm tellin' you the truth about it.</p> + +<p>"When our hogs was taken that time, we didn't have nothing to go on that +winter. They would compel us to stay. They would allowance us some meat +and make us split rails and clear up land for it. It was a cinch if he +didn't give it to you you couldn't get nothin'. Wasn't no way to get +nothing. Then when crop time rolled 'round again they would take it all +out of your crops. Make you split rails and wood to earn your meat and +then charge it up to your crop anyhow. But you couldn't do nothin' 'bout +it.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes a barrel of molasses would set up in the smokehouse and turn +to sugar. You goin' hungry and molasses wastin'. They was determined not +to give you too much of it.</p> + +<p>"I made my way by farming. After I got to be some size, I started at it. +I farmed all my life. While I could work, things was pretty good. Wisht +I was on a farm now. Even when I'm 'round here sick, I can git these +potatoes raised with a little help from the neighbors.</p> + +<p>"I don't belong to church. I oughter, but I don't. Then again, I figure +that a man can be just as good out of it as he can in it. I've got good +desires, but I never confessed to the public.</p> + +<p>"I have had three hundred dollars worth of stuff stolen from me. +Everything I produced is stolen from me because I have no way to protect +myself. What I raise if I don't get shet of it right away, the people +get shet of it for me. I had eighty head of chickens in the barn out +there runnin' 'round. When I got sick and was in the bed and couldn't +help myself, the chickens went. In the daytime, they would fix traps and +jerk a string and pull a board down on them and then go out in the weeds +and get them. I never reported nothin' to the police. I wasn't able to +report nothing. I was just batching, and now and then people would come +in and report them to me. They would wait till they saw somebody come in +and when they saw that I was talking and wouldn't notice them, they +would steal anything they wanted. The police came by here and ran them +once. But that didn't do no good.</p> + +<p>"Once somebody stole an automatic shotgun. They stole a colt one time. +They stole all my clothes and pawned them to a whiskey dealer. He got +sent to the pen for selling whiskey, but I didn't get my clothes. They +come in the yard and steal my potatoes, collards, turnips, ochre +(okra?), and so on. I lay there in the bed and see them, but I can't +stop them. All I can do is to holler, 'You better go on and let them +things alone.' Ever since the last war, I haven't been able to work. I +am bare-feeted and naked now on account of not bein' able to support +myself.</p> + +<p>"I just come out of the hospital. I been too sick even to work in my +garden. After I come home I taken a backset[TR: ?] but I am still +staying here. I am just here on the mercies of the people. I don't get +nothing but what the people give me. I don't get no moddities nor +nothin' from the Government.</p> + +<p>"I ain't never been able to get no help from the Government. Long time +ago, I went down to the place and asked for help and they told me that +since I was alone, I oughta be able to help myself. They gimme a ticket +for twenty meals and told me by the time I ate them up, they might have +something else they could do for me. I told them I couldn't go back and +forth to git the meals. I have the ticket now. I couldn't git to the +place to use it none, so I keep it for a keepsake. It is 'round here +somewheres or other. I was past the pension age. I ain't been able to do +no steady work since the war. I was too old for the war—the World War."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b> [HW: omit]</p> + +<p>The spelling of the name Sunnaville is phonetic. I don't recognize the +name and he couldn't spell it of course.</p> + +<p>When I called, he had potatoes that weighed at least seven pounds. They +were laid out on the porch for sale. He had a small patch in his yard +which he cultivated, and had gotten about ten bushels from it.</p> + +<p>His account of slavery times is so vivid that you would consider his age +nearer eighty than sixty-eight. A little questioning reveals that he has +no idea of his age although he readily gives it as sixty-eight—a +memorized figure.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorLula"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Lula Taylor, R.F.D., east of town,<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 71</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My mother was sold five times. She was sold when she was too little to +remember her mother. Her mother was Charity Linnerman. They favored. She +was dark and granny was light colored. My mother didn't love her mother +like I loved her.</p> + +<p>"Granny lived in a house behind the white church (?) in Helena. After +freedom we kept writing till we got in tetch with her. We finally got +granny with us on the Jefferies place at Clarendon.</p> + +<p>"A man (Negro) come by and conjured my mother. She was with Miss Betty +Reed (or Reid) up north of Lonoke. They was my mother's last owners. +That old man made out like she stole things when he stole them his own +black self. He'd make her hide out like she stole things. She had a +sweetheart and him and his wife. She had to live with them. They stole +her off from her last owner, Miss Betty Reed. They didn't like her +sweetheart. They was going to marry. He bought all her wedding clothes. +When she didn't marry him she let him have back all the weddin' clothes +and he buried his sister in them. This old man was a conjurer. He give +my mother a cup of some kind of herbs and made her drink it. He tole her +all her love would go to Henry Deal. He liked him. He was my papa. Her +love sure did leave her sweetheart and go to my papa. He bought her some +nice clothes. She married in the clothes he got her. She was so glad to +let go that old man and woman what conjured her 'way from her white +folks to wait on them.</p> + +<p>"Granny's head was all split open. I lived to see all that. White folks +said her husband done it but she said one of her old master's struck her +on the head with a shoe last.</p> + +<p>"My papa said he'd hit boards and stood on them all day one after +another working cold days.</p> + +<p>"Master Wade Deal at freedom give papa a pair of chickens, goats, sheep, +turkeys, a cow; and papa cleared ten acres of ground to pay for his +first mule. He bought the mule from Master Wade Deal.</p> + +<p>"Old Master Deal used to run us from behind him plowing. We tease him, +say what he'd say to the horse or mule. He'd lock us up in the +smokehouse. We'd eat dried beef and go to sleep. He was a good old man.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa Henry Pool went to war. Papa was sold from the Pools to the +Deals. Grandpa played with us. He'd put us all up on a horse we called +Old Bill. He said he got so used to sleeping on his blanket on the +ground in war times till he couldn't sleep on a bed. He couldn't get off +asleep.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa found a pitcher of gold money been buried in old Master Pool's +stable. He give it to them. They knowed it was out there.</p> + +<p>"Mother was with Miss Betty Reed in most of war times. Miss Betty hid +their jewelry and money. She spoke of the Yankees coming and kill pretty +chickens and drink up a churn of fresh milk turned ready for churning. +It be in the chimney corner to keep warm. They'd take fat horses and +turn their poor ones in the lot. They never could pass up a fat hog. +They cleaned out the corn crib.</p> + +<p>"All my kin folks was field hands. I ploughed all day long.</p> + +<p>"Papa said his ole mistress Deal was out under an apple tree peeling +apples to dry. A white crane flew over the tree and fluttered about over +her. Next day she died. Then the old man married a younger woman.</p> + +<p>"It is so about the pigeons at Pigeon Roost (Wattensaw, Arkansas). They +weighted trees down till they actually broke limbs and swayed plenty of +them. That was the richest land you ever seen in your life when it was +cleared off. Folks couldn't rest for killing pigeons and wasted them all +up. I was born at Pigeon Roost on Jim High's place. I seen a whole +washpot full of stewed pigeon. It was fine eating. It was a shame to +waste up all the pigeons and clear out the place."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorMillie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Millie Taylor<br> + 1418 Texas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes'm, I was born in slavery times in Calhoun County, Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"Bill Armstrong was my owner. He's been dead a long time.</p> + +<p>"My folks stayed on there a good while.</p> + +<p>"Pa said they was good to him but they wasn't good to my ma. I heered pa +say they beat her till she died. I don't remember a thing 'bout my ma.</p> + +<p>"I heered 'em talk 'bout the Ku Klux. They kep' that in my hearin' so +much that I kep' that in my remembrance.</p> + +<p>"I know when we stayed on the place pa said was old master's. Yes'm, I +sure 'members dat. I know we stayed there till pa married again.</p> + +<p>"Bill Armstrong's wife made our clothes. I know we stayed right in the +yard with some more colored folks.</p> + +<p>"Pa worked on the shares and rented too.</p> + +<p>"I was twenty-four when I come from Mississippi here. I was married then +and had three chillun. But they all dead now. I stays here with my +grandson. I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for him. I reckon I'd +just be knockin' around—no tellin'.</p> + +<p>"I got another grandson lives in Marvell. I went there to visit and I +got so I couldn't walk, so my grandson carried me to the doctor. And he +just looked at me—he had been knowin' me so long. I said, 'Don't you +know me?' And he said, 'If you'd take off your hat I think I'd know +you.' And he said, 'Well, for the Lawd, if it ain't Millie Taylor!'</p> + +<p>"I've always done farmin'. That's the way I was raised—farmin'. I just +looks at these folks in town and it seems funny to me to buy ever'thing +you need. Looks to me like they would rather raise it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lawd, don't talk about this young race. It looks to me like they is +more heathe'nish. The Bible say they would be weaker and wiser but they +is just too wise for their own good. I just looks at 'em and I don't +know what to think about this young race. They is a few respects you and +theirselves.</p> + +<p>"I seen things here in town I didn't think I'd ever see. Seems like the +people in the country act like they recognize you more.</p> + +<p>"I has a good remembrance. Seems like I gets to studyin' 'bout it and it +just comes to me like ABC. I know pa used to talk and tell us things and +if I didn't believe it, I didn't give him no cross talk. But nowadays if +chillun don't believe what you say, they goin' try to show you a point.</p> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, folks is livin' a fast life—white and colored.</p> + +<p>"Looks like the old folks has worked long enough for the white folks +till they ought to have enough to live on."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorSarah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Taylor, R.F.D., Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Releford County, Tennessee, ten miles from Murfreesboro. +My parents belonged to Dr. Jimmy Manson. He was off and gone from home +nearly all the time. He didn't have a Negro driver. Because he didn't +they called us all Manson's free niggers. Folks didn't like it because +we had so much freedom. One day a terrible thing happened broke up our +happy way of living on Dr. Manson's place.</p> + +<p>"Grandpa was part Indian. Dr. Jimmy didn't whoop. He visited and he'd +get a jug of whiskey, call his niggers and give them a little, make them +feel good and get them in a humor for working. Dr. Jimmy had a nigger +overseer. They was digging a ditch and making a turnpike from Dr. +Manson's place to Murfreesboro. They told grandpa to drive down in the +ditch with his load of rock and let the white folks drive up on the +dump. They was hauling and placing rock on the dump to make a turnpike. +In Tennessee it was a law if a man owned a nigger he had to whoop him or +have him whooped. If he didn't he had to sell him. They told grandpa if +he didn't do as they said they would whoop him, then they said they +would break his back. They took the fussing to Dr. Jimmy for him to +whoop grandpa. He sold him to nigger traders and they drove him to +Mississippi. Mother never seen him no more. Grandma died of grief. She +had nine girls and no boys. After freedom seven went North and mama, was +Jane, and Aunt Betty lived on in Tennessee, and I lived some in +Mississippi. That's the reason I hate Mississippi to this very day.</p> + +<p>"The day they fit on Stone River in Tennessee, brother Hood was born. He +was born during the battle. I guess they moved off of Dr. Jimmy's place +at freedom, for I was born on Jack Little's place.</p> + +<p>"The times is passing faster than I want it to and I'm doing very well. +I don't never meddle in young folks' business and I don't 'low them +meddling in mine. Folks is the ones making times so hard. Some making +times hard for all rest of us can't help ourselves. It is sin and +selfishness makes times so hard. Young folks no worse than some not so +very old. It ain't young folks making times hard. It's older ones so +greedy. They don't have no happiness and don't want to see old ones live +nor the young ones neither."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TaylorWarren"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Warren Taylor<br> + 3200 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>My people are all from Richmond, Virginia. I was just four years old +when they come here. My father was in charge of all the machinery. He +ran the gin. Didn't do anything else. My mother was a house girl. The +kids learned her everything they learned in school. She knew everything. +My father died when I was young. My mother lived till she was eighty. +But the time she was fifty, I bought her a home and sat her down on +Pulaski Street in that home. And that is why I have so little trouble.</p> + +<p>"My ma belonged to Hoffman. He sold her to Wiley Adams. He carried her +to Mississippi. She stayed there for a short time and then came to +Arkansas. He settled in a little place called Tulip, Arkansas. Then +freedom came and we came to Little Rock and settled at what is now +Seventh and Ringo Streets; but then it was just a stage road leading to +Benton, Arkadelphia, and other places. Stages passed twice a day with +passengers and freight. No railroads at all then. The government kept +the roads up. They had the arsenal hall where the city park is and had a +regiment of soldiers there. The work on that road was kept up by the +soldiers. That was under Grant's administration. I never saw but three +presidents—three Democratic presidents—Cleveland, Wilson, and +Roosevelt.</p> + +<p>"My father's master was named Lee. He married my mother back in +Virginia. My daddy's people when he was freed was named Taylor. He died +when I was young and he never gave me any details about them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"The Adamses were good to my mother. And they help her even after +freedom. Charlie Adams and Mack Adams of Malvern, Arkansas. John was the +sheriff and ran a store. Mack was a drummer for the Penzl Grocery. When +my mother was ill, he used to bring her thirty dollars at a time. Every +two months she had to go down to Malvern when she was well and carry an +empty trunk and when she would come back it would be full. My mother was +wet-nurse to the Adamses and they thought the world and all of her.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"They had a good opinion of their house servants. That is how she and my +father came to belong to different families. One white man would say to +the other, 'I got a good boy. I'm going to let him come over to see your +girl.' He would be talking about a Negro man that worked around his +house and a Negro girl that worked for the other man. That would be all +right. So that's the way my father went to see my mother. He was married +in the way they always married in those days. You know how it was. There +was no marriage at all. They just went on out and got the woman and the +white man said, 'There she is. You are man and wife.'</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right After the War</b></p> + +<p>"My father died before freedom. My mother lived with him until her folks +moved away from his folks. Then she was separated from him and left him +in Mississippi. She belonged to one white man and he to another, and +that could happen any time.</p> + +<p>"Right after freedom, she stayed with these white people, doing the +house work. She had the privilege of raising things for herself. She +made a garden, and raised vegetables and such like.</p> + +<p>"My brother who had run off during slavery time and who later became a +preacher in the North invited us to live in the city with him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"I wasn't fourteen years old when I was tending to flowers for the Cairo +and Fulton Railroad. That was a railroad which later became Missouri +Pacific. They beautified everything. There wasn't any bridge. They had a +boat to take you into the town of Argenta then, and when the trains came +through, the same boat would carry the cars across. An engine would be +on the other side to finish the journey with them.</p> + +<p>"There is one engineer living now who was active in that time, Charlie +Seymour, retired, of Little Rock. He used to run the first train over +the Baring Cross Bridge, and then he ran the first engine over the new +bridge here. He had already been retired when they finished the new +bridge, but they had him pull the first train over the new bridge +because he had pulled the first one over the old bridge. They wanted to +give him that honor.</p> + +<p>"My manager in that time was Superintendent A.E. Buchanan.</p> + +<p>"From this work, I was advanced to the office and stayed there twenty +years. I served under Commissioner Thomas Essex and later under +Commissioner J.A. Dean. This service included twenty years in various +departments.</p> + +<p>"After that I billed freight for the Missouri Pacific at the Baring +Cross Storerooms under Mr. H.S. Turner for eight months or more. Then I +was transferred, because the location was not good for my health, to De +Soto, Missouri, forty-five miles this side of St. Louis. Sedentary work +had proved bad for me and I needed more active work. I waited on the +master mechanic there. After that I came back to Little Rock and worked +for the Pacific Express Company under Mr. G.F. Johnson, superintendent. +After that, I worked for the Quapaw Club[HW?] during its heyday when +Johnie Boyle, Hollenberg, Acie Bragg, Will Mitchell, Mr. Cottman, +Captain Shaw, and oodles of others were members. Mr. Moorehead White was +secretary. After that I went to doing my own work.</p> + +<p>"Now I am past my prime and I do the best I can with what little help I +get from the government. I get eight dollars a month and commodities. +Mr. Roosevelt has got guts. Mighty few men would attempt to do what he +has done. He is the greatest humanitarian president the country has ever +had.</p> + +<p>"But I've got a pile of recommendations. I've got recommendations from</p> + +<pre> +Thomas Essex, Land Commissioner, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, +and Southern Railway + +W.S. Thomas, Geologist, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, Southern + +J.H. Harvey, General Foreman of Bridges and Building + +G.A.A. Deane, Land Commissioner succeeding Essex, St. Louis, +Iron Mountain, and Southern + +S.W. Moore, General Secretary, Railway Y.M.C.A. + +Arthur B. Washburn, Superintendent, Arkansas Deaf Mute Institute + +A.C. St. Clair, Manager of the College of Physicians and Surgeons + +(Note comment) [TR: No additional comment found.] +</pre> + +<p>You can read these for yourself, and you see what they say. They can't +get me work now, but it's great to know you did good work and be able to +prove it.</p> + +<p>"The same commodities they give now were given in 1870. They had what +they called the Freedman's Bureau. They used to have what they called +the LICK SKILLET on Spring Street from Fifth to Seventh. Leastwise, the +colored people called it that. Bush and a lots of other big niggers used +to go there and get free lodgings until they were able to get along +alone without help. The niggers they call BIG NIGGERS now stayed in +wagon yards when they first come here.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Former Morals</b></p> + +<p>"There was a time when a low-down person, colored or white, couldn't +stay in the community. They would give him a ticket and send him to +Memphis or somewhere else.</p> + +<p>"Reuben White built the First Baptist Church. In those days, people were +Christian. White baptized one hundred fifty people twice a month. You +didn't have to put a lock on your door then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Bachelor</b></p> + +<p>"I haven't been married; marriage holds a man back. A woman won't do as +she is told.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Successful Negroes in Little Rock</b></p> + +<p>"They had three Negro aldermen in this city: one of them was Green +Thompson; but the Negroes butchered him. He was murdered as he came in +from a festival. M.W. Gibbs, Land Office Man for the Government, was the +only nigger here who wasn't bothered by no one—by no colored person. +Dr. Smith was the leading colored dentist once, and the leading dentist +of the city in his day. Almost all the white people went to him. Colored +people had the barber shops. McNair had a barber shop on Main between +Second and Third. His boy killed him—no good reason. His boy went to +school with us; he was always stubborn and mean.</p> + +<p>"Henry Powell was jailer here once. Sam Wilkins, a man that weighed +about three hundred pounds, was the turnkey at the penitentiary. He +lived in one of the finest houses in the town at that time. Nigger bands +had all the music then. I have seen white organizations like the Odd +Fellows and Masons follow Negro bands. Nigger orchestras played here all +the big to-dos among white people. White people used to get nigger +dancers to come here to dance and show them so that they could learn the +late steps.</p> + +<p>"Colored caterers had the big jobs. Henry Miller was one of them. He's +going pretty strong still. You get some smart niggers 'round the Marion +Hotel right now. We used to have some smart cooks. But they did too much +peddling out of the back door. Dishonesty put them back. White people +have taken all that work now. The nigger ruined himself in this town. +They are paying white men now for what they know. They used to pay +niggers for what they knowed.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"If the government would give you a job today, niggers would be up to +take you out of it tomorrow. Niggers are dirty, and these 'round here +are ignorant.</p> + +<p>"The parents don't teach the children, and the children can't amount too +anything. If children are not taught to work, they will never have +nothing. A bunch of these young people don't mean to work. They just lay +'round waiting for the old people to die so they can get what little the +old folks accumulated and run through it. But a man never keeps what he +himself doesn't earn. He can't.</p> + +<p>"The children are raised now without manners. When I have to go past +Capitol Hill School, I have to get off the sidewalk. Ain't nothin' but +these graduates teachin' now, young graduates that don't know nothin' +but runnin' about. When I come along, the carpetbaggers were teaching +and they knew their business. Mrs. Stephens went to Fisk and finished +there. Mrs. Spight graduated from Union High School. We had all white +teachers at first. Miss Sarah Henley used to teach with old ex-slaves +where the Bethel A.M.E. Church is now. There wasn't no church there +then—just a little shanty. I was just five years old. My mother used to +take me there and leave me, but she taught me herself at home. She +taught me just like I see you teach your kids.</p> + +<p>"Boys don't do nothing but play now. They had to hustle then. They can't +do nothing now. They have this departmental system now. They didn't have +it then. The different temperaments ruin children. They used to review, +now they don't. They change text-books so fast the old ones can't be +sold."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Warren Taylor holds recommendations from a number of prominent people +referring to his excellent character, high morals, unusual intelligence, +wide information, industry, thrift, honesty, and trustworthiness. Some +of the names occur in the interview. The letters and documents proving +his long service and good record were brought out during the interview +and given to me to read.</p> + +<p>He has an unusual memory and penetrating insight into conditions.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TeagueSneed"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sneed Teague<br> + Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68<br> +Occupation: Works on railroad</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My owners was Miss Betsy and Master Teague. Miss Betsy had a sister +lived with them. Her name was Miss Polly. They was French folks from the +old country.</p> + +<p>"My ma had belong to the Cox before the Teagues owned her. The Teagues +had three families of servants.</p> + +<p>"I remember them—yes mam—they was very saving people. They made +everything that they used. The shettle, the carding machine, the +spinning wheel and all, they made em. They had a carding machine +different to anybodys in the country. It worked by a foot treadle. +Another thing wasn't like nobody elses in the whole country was the bed. +It had four tall post. The head board a little higher than the one at +the foot but instead of using slats across from the railings it was +mortised together and hemp ropes wove bout a inch apart. It was strong +and didn't seem to give (stretch) much.</p> + +<p>"They raised sheep and they wove and spun wool altogether. They didn't +fool with cotton. Never did, not even down to my time. That carding +machine I'm telling bout turned out rolls of wool. It was right pretty. +They made all kinds of wool things and sold them. The old man had three +or four boys. Mr. Jim Teague run a wood and blacksmith shop. He sold +plows, wagons, hoes. They made spoons, knives, and forks out of sheets +of some kind of metal. Everything they used they made it and they sold +mighty near every thing folks wanted. The servants stayed on after the +war. My ma stayed till she died. My family had a little dispute when I +was twelve years old and I left. Ma died and I never went back. I come +to Forrest City and got work. I been farmin' and working on the +railroad. I have done track work. I got 10 acres land and a house. I +don't need on the relief. If I need it I would want it. The reason I +ain't got a garden and cow is I work out and not there to see after it.</p> + +<p>"Some times I vote. You make enemies cause they all want you to vote for +them and I can't do that. I don't care nothin' bout votin'. I don't +enquire no more bout politics.</p> + +<p>"The fellow what raises things to sell is better off with prices high +but if he is working for money, times is hard for him. Cause the money +is hard to get and hard to keep now. The young folks morals ain't like +young folks used to have. Seemed like young folks too smart to be +trained in morals like they was when I was comin' up."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TeelMary"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Teel<br> + Holly Grove, Ark.<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Our Masters was Wade and Curls. Miss Fannie was Master Wade's wife. +They was kin somehow. I heard Ma say they wouldn't let their boys work. +We girls growd up together. They called Ma 'Cousin'.</p> + +<p>"Ma say she come from Marshal County Tennessee to Holly Springs +Mississippi. She never did see her pa. My papa's papa was <u>a white +man</u>. My pa was Lewis Brittman. He was a carriage driver. He made and +mended shoes. My Ma was a fine cook. She had nine children but jes three +living now. One of the girls—Miss Fannie's girls—married bout when I +did. We jes growd up lack that. I left the girls at Mt. Pleasant, +Mississippi. I stayed on their place a while. I wish I had money to go +back to my old home and see all 'em livin'. I never heard 'em say if +they give 'em somepin. Pa lernt us to do all kinds of work. He knowd how +to do nearly everything cause he was brought up by white folks. Measles +broke out, then small pox and the white folks put us in a room all +together at the white house so we could be seen after. We lay on the +same beds. My brother would whistle. I was real little but I member it +well as yesterday. Ma say stop whistlin' in that bed and Miss Fannie say +let him whistle I want to hear him cause I know he better. They say it +bad luck to sing in bed or look in the lookin'-glass (mirror) if you in +the bed. We all got over it.</p> + +<p>"Pa made us go clean. He made me comb and wrop my hair every night. I +had prutty hair then. I had tetter and it all come out. I has to wear +this old wig now. When I was young my eye-sight got bad, they said +measles settled in em and to help em Ma had these holes put in em (in +her ears). I been wearin' earbobs purt nigh all my life.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They never come nigh our house no time. +Pa died and Ma married a old man. They stayed in the same place a while. +When Pa died he had cattle and stock that why I don't know if he got +somepin at Freedom. He had plenty.</p> + +<p>"We lived at Holly Springs (Miss.) when they started the first colored +schools. There was three lady teachers. I think a man. One of the white +teachers boarded at my Ma's. On Saturday the other two eat there. I +recollect Ma cooking and fixing a big dinner Saturday. No white folks +let em stay with em or speak to em. They was sent from up north to teach +the darky chaps. I was one went to school. They wasn't nice like my +white folks then neither. They paid high board and white folks sent em +to Ma so she get the money. I was 14 years old when I married. I lived +wid my husband more an 50 years. We got long what I'ze tellin' you. This +young set ain't got no raisin' reason they cain't stand one nother. I +don't let em come in my yard. I cain't raise no children, I'm too old +and they ain't got no manners and the big ones got no sense. Jes wild. +They way they do. They live together a while and quit. Both them soon +livin' wid somebody else. That what churches fer, to marry in. Heap of +em ain't doin' it. No children don't come here tearin' up what I work +and have. I don't let em come in that gate, I have to work so hard in my +old days. I picked cotton. I can, by pickin' hard, make a dollar a day. +I cooked ten years fore I stopped, I cain't hold up at it. I washed and +ironed till the washing machines ruined that work fer all of us black +folks. Silk finery and washin' machines ruint the black folks.</p> + +<p>"Ma named Elsie Langston and Lewis Langston. They took that name somehow +after the old war (Civil War), I recken it was her old master's name.</p> + +<p>"After I was married and had children I was hard up. I went to a widow +woman had a farm but no men folks. She say, 'If you live here and leave +your little children in my yard and take my big boys and learn em to +work, I will cook. On Saturday you wash and iron.' She took me in that +way when my color wouldn't help me. I stayed there—between Memphis and +Holly Springs.</p> + +<p>"I live hard the way I live. I pick cotton when I can't go hardly. They +did give me a little commodity but I lose half day work if I go up there +and wait round. Don't know what they give me. I don't get a cent of the +penshun."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThermonWade"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Wade Thermon,<br> + R.F.D. (PWA Reservation), Des Arc, Arkansas<br> +Age: 67</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Boswell, Oklahoma. My mother and father was both slaves +some wha in the eastern states. Soon as freedom was declared they kept +going till I was born. They finally come back and farmed round Pine +Bluff. My folks last time I heard from them was at Garland City. There's +wha my mother died. I had three brothers and one sister, but one brother +died long time ago. Oklahoma was pore farmin'. The family could do +pretty good farmin' in Arkansas. I come here from Pine Bluff. I got a +wife, two girls and a little grandchild. When I first come to dis county +I done public work—piece work. I handled cotton and cross ties. I used +to help load and unload the boats and I worked helpin' build railroads. +Then I had to farm about a little fur a living. I worked on Victor Gates +place six years. Then I worked on the widow Thomas place till the +Government bought it. Then the last eighteen months I got work wid the +PWA on the rezer/va/tion. They turned me off now and I ain't got no +place to work.</p> + +<p>"I voted the Republican ticket the last time. I don't know nothing 'bout +stricted sufage. I voted in Oklahoma some and here some. No I sho don't +think the women needs to vote. They won't let us vote in the Primary. No +I wouldn't know who would suit in dem high offices. I reckon it is all +right. We is in you might say a foreign country. What I blames 'em fur +is not puttin' us in a country all to our selves and den let us run it +all to our selves. It is gettin' us all mixed up here every year worse +and worse.</p> + +<p>"I don't know nuthin' 'bout the Civil War. That was before I was born. I +heard my folks talk some 'bout it, been so long I forgot what they did +say. My folks owned a place in Oklahoma, at least I recken they did. I +never did own no home nor no land. Well, missus, cause I never could get +but berry little ahead ever and it takes all I makes to live on and I +ain't got nuthin' to go on now.</p> + +<p>"Times is changin' so much I don't know whut goin' to happen to the next +generation. Prices is mighty high now the reason you have to spend every +cent you makes fore you get paid off. Dats the reason I don't like the +PWA work I done. It cuts you off without a thing to go on. I likes farm +work whole heap the best."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasDicey"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Mrs. Dicey Thomas<br> + 2500 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 82</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Barbour County, Alabama. When I was born, the white folks +kept the children's age, not that of their parents. When the Yankees +came through our white folks' plantation, the white folks was hiding +away things.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Father</b></p> + +<p>"My father was named Ben See. See was my maiden name. Thomas comes from +my marriage.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Yankees</b></p> + +<p>"It was about twelve o'clock when the Yankees came through, because we +had just gone to bring the bowls. They used to serve us out of these +gourds and wooden spoons. Me and another little girl had gone to get +some bowls and spoons and when we got back the Yankees were swarming +over the place. They said, 'You are free. Go where you please.'</p> + +<p>"My mother had a little baby. The old women would tend to this baby and +we would sit and rock the cradle till mother would come. I know I wasn't +very old, because I didn't do anything but sit and rock the baby. I had +just gotten big enough to carry the bowls.</p> + +<p>"When the Yankees came through they stole Ben See's horse and brought +him out here in Arkansas. In those days, they used to brand horses.</p> + +<p>Some woman out here in Arkansas recognized the horse by his brand and +wrote to him about it. He came out and got the horse. We had gone by +that time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Visiting the Graves</b></p> + +<p>"Ben See used to take the little darkies to the cemetery and show them +where their master and missis was laying. He never would sell none of +his father's slaves.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>The Slave Block</b></p> + +<p>"He would buy other slaves and sell them though. He used to buy little +kids that couldn't walk. Maybe some big white man would come that would +want to buy a nigger. He used to have servants in the yard and he would +have the slaves he'd bought saved up. One of the yard servants would +catch a little nigger with his head all knotty and filled with twigs. He +would swinge the hair and the little nigger would yell, but he wouldn't +be hurt.</p> + +<p>"He had a block built up high just like a meat block out in the yard. He +would have the yard man bring the little niggers out and put them on +this block. I don't know nothing about their parents, who they were nor +where they were. All I know he would have this child there what he'd +done bought.</p> + +<p>"If there would be about five or six come in, here's this nigger sitting +up here. Here's a lot of folks waitin' to buy him. One would say, 'I bid +so much.' Another would say, 'I bid so much.' That would go on till the +biddin' got as high as it would go. Then the little nigger would go to +the highest bidder if the bid suited master.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father didn't know their age. The white folks kept the +ages, and that was something they didn't allow the slaves to handle. I +must have been four or five years old when my mother was in the field, +because I wasn't allowed to take the baby out of the cradle but just to +sit and rock it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Arkansas</b></p> + +<p>"When I come to Arkansas, stages was running from Little Rock down +toward Pine Bluff. Jesse James robbed the Pine Bluff train. That about +the first train came in. They cut down the trees across the train track. +They had a wooden gun and they went in there and robbed that train with +it. They sent him to the pen and he learned a trade making cigars.</p> + +<p>"The Union Station was just like that hillside. It was just one street +in the town. I don't know what year nor nothing about it because when I +came here it was just like somebody didn't have any sense.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Plantation</b></p> + +<p>"The slave quarter was a row of houses. The plantation was high land. +The houses were little log houses with one room. They had fire arches. +They would hang pots over the fire. They would have spiders that you +call ovens. You would put coals on top of the spider and you would put +them under it and you could smell that stuff cooking! The door was in +the top of the spider and the coals would be on top of the door.</p> + +<p>"You couldn't cook nothin' then without somebody knowin' it. Couldn't +cook and eat in the back while folk sit in the front without them +knowin' it. They used to steal from the old master and cook it and they +would be burning rags or something to keep the white folks from smelling +it.</p> + +<p>The riding boss would come round about nine o'clock to see if you had +gone to bed or not. If they could steal a chicken or pig and kill and +cut it up, this one would take a piece and that one would take a piece +and they would burn the cotton to keep down the scent. The rider would +come round in June and July too when they thought the people would be +hunting the watermelons.</p> + +<p>"When the soldiers came, the niggers run and hid under the beds and the +soldiers came and poked their bayonets under the bed and shouted, 'Come +on out from under there. You're free!'</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Destructiveness of Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"The soldiers would tear down the beehives and break up the smoke +houses. They wasn't tryin' to git nothin' to eat. They was just +destroying things for devilment. They pulled all the stoppers out of the +molasses. They cut the smoked meat down and let it fall in the molasses.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Rations</b></p> + +<p>"Every Saturday, they would give my father and his wife half a gallon of +molasses, so much side meat. And then they would give half a bushel of +meal I reckon. Whatever they would give they would give 'em right out of +the smoke house. Sweet potatoes they would give. Sugar and coffee they'd +make. There wasn't nothing 'bout buying no sugar then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How the Day Went</b></p> + +<p>"The riding boss would come round before the day broke and wake you up. +You had to be in the field before sun-up—that is the man would. The +woman who had a little child had a little more play than the man, +because she had to care for the child before she left. She had to carry +the child over to the old lady that took care of the babies. The cook +that cooked up to the big house, she cooked bread and milk and sent it +to the larger children for their dinner. They didn't feed the little +children because their mothers had to nurse them. The mother went to the +field as soon as she cared for her child. She would come back and nurse +the child around about twice. She would come once in the morning about +ten o'clock and once again at twelve o'clock before she ate her own +lunch. She and her husband ate their dinner in the field. She would come +back again about three p.m. Then you wouldn't see her any more till dark +that night. Long as you could see you had to stay in the field. They +didn't come home till sundown.</p> + +<p>"Then the mother would go and get the children and bring them home. She +would cook for supper and feed them. She'd have to go somewheres and get +them. Maybe the children would be asleep before she would get all that +done. Then she would have to wake them up and feed them.</p> + +<p>"I remember one time my sister and me were laying near the fire asleep +and my sister kicked the pot over and burned me from my knee to my foot. +My old master didn't have no wife, so he had me carried up to the house +and treated by the old woman who kept the house for him. She was a +slave. When I got so I could hobble around a little, he would sometimes +let the little niggers come up to the house and I would get these big +peanuts and break them up and throw them out to them so he could have +fun seeing them scramble for them.</p> + +<p>"After the children had been fed, the mother would cook the next day's +breakfast and she would cook the next day's dinner and put it in the +pail so that everything would be ready when the riding boss would come +around. Cause when he came, it meant move.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>The Old Lady at the Big House</b></p> + +<p>"The old lady at the big house took care of the gourds and bowls. The +parents didn't have nothing to do with them. She fed the children that +was weaned. Mother and daddy didn't have nothing to do with that at +noontime because they was in the field. White folks fed them corn bread +and milk. Up to the big house besides that, she didn't have anything to +do except take care of things around the house, keep the white man's +things clean and do his cooking.</p> + +<p>"She never carried the gourds and bowls herself. She just fixed them. +The yard man brought them down to the quarters and we would take them +back. She wash them and scrape them till they was white and thin as +paper. They was always clean.</p> + +<p>"She wasn't related to me. I couldn't call her name to save my life.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Relatives</b></p> + +<p>"We come from Barbour, Alabama with a trainful of people that were +immigrating. We just chartered a train and came, we had so many. Of all +the old people that came here in that time, my aunt is the oldest. You +will find her out on Twenty-fourth Street and Pulaski. She has been my +aunt ever since I can remember. She must be nearly a hundred or more.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"When we had the patrollers it was just like the white man would have +another white man working for him. It was to see that the Negroes went +to bed on time and didn't steal nothing. But my master and missis never +allowed anybody to whip their slaves.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>What the Slaves Expected and Got</b></p> + +<p>"I don't know what the slaves was expecting to get, but my parents when +they left Ben See's place had nothing but the few clothes in the house. +They didn't give em nothing. They had some clothes all right, enough to +cover themselves. I don't know what kind or how much because I wasn't +old enough to know all into such details.</p> + +<p>"When we left Ben See's plantation and went down into Alabama, we left +there on a wagon. Daddy was driving four big steers hitched to it. There +was just three of us children. The little boy my mother was schooling +then, it died. It died when we went down betwixt New Falls and +Montgomery, Alabama. I don't know when we left Alabama nor how long we +stayed there. After he was told he was free, I know he didn't make nare +another crop on Ben See's plantation.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>1865-1938</b></p> + +<p>"My father, when he left from where we was freed, he went to hauling +logs for a sawmill, and then he farmed. He done that for years, driving +these old oxen. He mostly did this logging and my mother did the +farming.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you what kind of time it was right after the Civil War +because I was too young to notice. All our lives I had plenty to eat. +When we first came to Arkansas we stopped at old Mary Jones down in +Riceville, and then we went down on the Gates Farm at Biscoe. Then we +went from there to Atkins up in Pope County. No, he went up in the sand +hills and bought him a home and then he went up into Atkins. Of course, +I was a married woman by that time.</p> + +<p>"I married the second year I came to Arkansas, about sixty-two or +sixty-three years ago. I have lived in Little Rock about thirty-two or +thirty-three years. When I first came here, I came right up here on +Seventeenth and State streets.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Voting</b></p> + +<p>"I never voted. For twenty years the old white lady I stayed with looked +after my taxes. None of my friends ever voted. I ain't got nothing but +some children and they ain't never been crazy enough to go to anybody's +polls.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Family</b></p> + +<p>"I have two brothers dead and a sister. My mother is dead. I am not sure +whether or not my father is dead. The Ku Klux scared him out of Atkins, +and he went up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I ain't never heard of him since. +I don't know whether he is dead or not.</p> + +<p>"I have raised five children of my own.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"These Ku Klux, they had not long ago used to go and whip folks that +wasn't doing right. That was mongst the white people and the colored. +Comer that used to have this furniture store on Main Street, he used to +be the head of it, they say.</p> + +<p>"I used to work for an old white man who told me how they done. They +would walk along the street with their disguises hidden under their +arms. Then when they got to the meeting place, they would put their +disguises on and go out and do their devilment. Then when they were +through, they would take the disguise off again and go on back about +their business, Old man Wolf, he used to tell me about it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Occupation</b></p> + +<p>"I nursed for every prominent doctor in Little Rock,—Dr. Judd, Dr. +Flynch, Dr. Flynn, Dr. Fly, Dr. Morgan Smith, and a number of others."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasMandy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mandy Thomas, 13th and Pearl Streets,<br> + Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78<br> +Occupation: Laundress</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I know my sister told me I was five when my mama was freed. I was born +down below El Dorado. Andrew Jaggers was my mother's old master.</p> + +<p>"I just remember the soldiers goin' past. I think they was Yankees. They +never stopped as I knows of.</p> + +<p>"I've seed my young missis whip my mother.</p> + +<p>"My papa belonged to the Agees. After I got up good sized, they told me +'bout my papa. He went with his white folks to Texas and we never did +see him after we got up good size. So mama took a drove of us and went +to work for some more white folks.</p> + +<p>"I was good and grown when I married and I been workin' hard ever since. +I was out pickin' huckleberries tryin' to get some money to buy baby +clothes when my first girl was born. Yes ma'am."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasOmelia1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas<br> + 519 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 70<br> +Occupation: Making cotton and corn</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Louisiana—in Vidalia. My mother's name was Emma Grant. +My father's name was George Grant. My mother's name before she married +was Emma Woodbridge. I don't know the names of my grand folks. I heard +my mother say that my grandmother was named Matilda Woodbridge. I never +got to see her. That is what I heard my mother say.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the names of my mother's master, and I don't know the +names of my father's white folks.</p> + +<p>"My father was George Grant. He served in the War. I think they said +that he was with them when Vicksburg surrendered. My father has said +that he was really named George LaGrande. But after he enlisted in the +War, he went by the name of George Grant. There was one of the officers +by that name, and he took it too. He was shot in the hip during the War. +When he died, he still was having trouble with that wound. He was on the +Union side. He was fighting for our freedom. He wasn't no Reb. He'd tell +us a many a day, 'I am part of the cause that you are free.' I don't +know where he was when he enlisted. He said he was sold out from +Louisville—him and his brother.</p> + +<p>"I never did hear him say that he was whipped or treated bad when he was +a slave. I've heard him tell how he had to stand up on dead people to +shoot when he was in the War.</p> + +<p>"My brother started twice to get my father's pension, but he never was +able to do anything about it. They made away with the papers somehow and +we never did get nothin'. My father married a second time before he +died. When he died, my stepmother tried to get the pension. They writ +back and asked her if he had any kin, and she answered them and said no. +She hid the papers and wouldn't let us have 'em—took and locked 'em up +somewheres where we couldn't find 'em. She was so mean that if she +couldn't get no pension, she didn't want nobody else to get none.</p> + +<p>"I don't know just when I was born, nor how old I am. When I come to +remember anything, I was free. But I don't know how old I am, nor when +it was.</p> + +<p>"I heard my father speak of pateroles. Just said that they'd ketch you. +He used to scare us by telling us that the pateroles would ketch us. We +thought that was something dreadful.</p> + +<p>"I never heard nothin' about jayhawkers. I heard something about Ku Klux +but I don't know what it was.</p> + +<p>"My father married my mother just after the War.</p> + +<p>"I been married twice. My first husband got killed on the levee. And the +second is down in the country somewheres. We are separated.</p> + +<p>"I don't get no help from the Welfare, wish I did. I ain't had no money +to get to the doctor with my eyes."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comments</b></p> + +<p>The old lady sat with her eyes nearly closed while I questioned her and +listened to her story. Those eyes ran and looked as though they needed +attention badly. The interview was conducted entirely on the porch as +that of Annie Parks. Traffic interrupted; friends interrupted; and a +daughter interrupted from time to time. But this daughter, while a +little suspicious, was in no degree hostile. The two of them referred me +to J.T. Tims, who, they said, knew a lot about slavery. His story is +given along with this one.</p> + +<p>I got the impression that the old lady was born before the War, but I +accepted her statement and put her down as born since the War and +guessed her age as near seventy. She was evidently quite reserved about +some details. Her father's marriage to her mother after the War would +not necessarily mean that he was not married to her slave fashion before +the War. She didn't care so much about giving any story, but she was +polite and obliging after she had satisfied herself as to my identity +and work.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasOmelia2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas<br> + 1014 W. Fifth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 63</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Marianna, Lee County, in Arkansas. I wasn't born right in +the town but out a piece from the town in the old Bouden place, in 1875. +My father kept a record of all births and deaths in his Bible. He never +forgot whenever a new baby would come to get down his glasses and pen +and ink and Bible. My daddy learned to read and write after the +emancipation.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Frank Johnson and my mother's name was Henrietta +Johnson. I don't know the given names of my father's and mother's +parents. I do know my mother's mother's name. Lucinda, and my father's +mother was named Stephens. I don't know their given names. My mother's +master was a Trotter.</p> + +<p>"My father was a free man. He hired his own time. He told me that his +father hired his own time and he would go off and work. He made +washpots. He would go off and work and bring back money and things. His +mother was free too. When war was declared, he volunteered to go. He was +with the Yankees. My father worked just like my grandfather did. +Whenever he had a job to do. He never had a lick from anybody, carried +his gun strapped down on his side all the time and never went without +it.</p> + +<p>"After the War, he worked on a steamboat. They used to kick the +roustabouts about and run them around but they never laid the weight of +their hands on him.</p> + +<p>"They wouldn't allow him to go to school in slavery time. After the War, +he got a Blue Back Speller and would make a bowl of fire and at night he +would study—sometimes until daybreak. Then he found an old man that +would help him and he studied under him for a while. He never went to +any regular school, but he went to night school a little. Most of what +he got, he got himself.</p> + +<p>"He was born in Louisville, Kentucky. I don't know how he happened to +meet my mother. During the time after the War, he went to running on the +boat from New Orleans to Friar Point, Mississippi. Then he would come +over to Helena. In going 'round, he met my mother near Marianna and +married her.</p> + +<p>"Mother never had much to say, and the other girls would have a big time +talking. He noticed that she was sewing with ravelings and he said, +'Lady, next time I come I'll bring you a spool of thread if you don't +mind.' He brought the thread and she didn't mind, and from then on, they +went to courting. Finally they married. They married very shortly after +the War.</p> + +<p>"My mother was a motherless girl. My daddy said he looked at her +struggling along. All the other girls were trying to have a good time. +But she would be settin' down trying to make a quilt or something else +useful, and he said to a friend of his, 'That woman would make a good +wife; I am going to marry her.' And he did.</p> + +<p>"She used to spin her fine and coarse sewing thread and yarn to make +socks and stockings with. Her stockings and socks for the babies and +papa would always be yarn. She could do pretty work. She had a large +family. She had seventeen children and she kept them all in things she +made herself. She raised ten of them. She would make the thread and yarn +and the socks and stockings for all of these. I have known the time when +she used to make coats and pants for my father and brothers. She would +make them by hand because they didn't have any machines then. Of course, +she made all the underwear. She put up preserves and jellies for us to +eat in the winter. She used to put up kraut and stuff by the barrel. I +have seen some happy days when I was with my daddy and mother. He raised +pigs and hogs and chickens and cows. He raised all kinds of peas and +vegetables. He raised those things chiefly for the home, and he made +cotton for money. He would save about eight or ten bales and put them +under his shed for stockings and clothes and everything. He would have +another cotton selling in March.</p> + +<p>"When my father was in the army, he would sometimes be out in the +weather, he told us, and he and the other soldiers would wrap up in +their blankets and sleep right in the snow itself.</p> + +<p>"I farmed all my life until 1897. I farmed all my life till then. I was +at home. I married in 1895. My first husband and I made three crops and +then he stopped and went to public work. After that I never farmed any +more but went to cooking and doing laundry work. I came from Clarendon +here in 1901.</p> + +<p>"I never had any experiences with the Yankees. My mother used to tell +how they took all the old master's stuff—mules and sugar—and then +throwed it out and rode their horses through it when they didn't want it +for theirselves.</p> + +<p>"I married a second time. I have been single now for the last three +years. My husband died on the twentieth of August three years ago. I +ain't got no business here at all. I ought to be at my home living well. +But I work for what I get and I'm proud of it.</p> + +<p>"A working woman has many things to contend with. That girl downstairs +keeps a gang of men coming and going, and sometimes some of them +sometimes try to come up here. Sunday night when I come home from +church, one was standing in the dark by my door waiting for me. I had +this stick in my hand and I ordered him down. He saw I meant business; +so he went on down. Some of them are determined.</p> + +<p>"There's no hope for tomorrow so far as these young folks are concerned. +And the majority of the old people are almost worse than the young ones. +Used to be that all the old people were mothers and fathers but now they +are all going together. Everything is in a critical condition. There is +not much truth in the land. All human affection is gone. There is mighty +little respect. The way some people carry on is pitiful."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>The men who bother Omelia Thomas probably take her for a young woman. +She hasn't a gray hair in her head, and her skin is smooth and must be +well kept. She looks at least twenty-five years younger than she is, and +but for the accident of her presence at another interview, I would never +have dreamed that she had a story to tell.</p> + +<p>I went to see her in the quarters where she lives—over the garage in +the back yard of the white people she works for. When I got halfway up +the stairs, she shouted, "You can't come up here." I paused in +perplexity for a moment, and she stuck her head out the door and looked. +Then she said, "Oh, I beg pardon; I thought you were one of those men +that visit downstairs." I had noticed the young lady below as I entered. +She is evidently a hot number, and as troublesome as a sore thumb to the +good old lady above her.</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasTanner"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Tanner Thomas<br> + 1213 Louisiana, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born down here at Rob Roy on the river on the Emory place. My +mother's name was Dinah Thomas and my father's name was Greene Thomas. +He taken sick and died in the War on the North side. That's what my +mother told me. I was born under Mars Jordan Emory's administration.</p> + +<p>"I 'member somebody brought me here to Pine Bluff to Lawyer Bell's +house. I stayed two or three months, then Mars Jordan sent for me and +carried me back out to Rob Roy and I stayed with my mother. She had done +married again but I stayed with her all the time till I got grown and I +married.</p> + +<p>"I come here in 1892 and I been here ever since—forty-six years. Oh, +whole lots of these white folks know me.</p> + +<p>"I worked at the Standard Lumber Company and Bluff City Lumber Company +and Dilley's Foundry. Then I went to the oil mill. I was the order man. +I was the best lumber grader on the place.</p> + +<p>"Course I knows lots of white folks and they knows me too, I done a heap +of work 'round here in different places in forty-six years.</p> + +<p>"I went to school a little but I didn't learn nothin'.</p> + +<p>"My mother said they come and pressed my daddy in the War. 'Course I +don't know nothin' 'bout that but my mother told me.</p> + +<p>"Now, what is this you're gettin' up? Well, I was born in slavery times. +You know I was when my daddy was in the War.</p> + +<p>"Oh Lord yes, I voted. I voted Republican. I didn't know whether it +would do any good or not but I just voted 'cause I had a chance. My +name's been in Washington for years 'cause I voted, you know.</p> + +<p>"My way is dark to the younger generation now. I don't have much dealin' +with them. They are more wiser. Education has done spread all over the +country.</p> + +<p>"God intended for every man in the world to have a living and to live +for each other but too many of 'em livin' for themselves. But everything +goin' to work out right after awhile. God's goin' to change this thing +up after awhile. You can't rush him. He can handle these people. After +he gets through, with this generation, I think he's goin' to make a +generation that will serve him."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThomasWester"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Wester Thomas, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Sumpter County (Mississippi?). My mother was sold to Dr. +and Miss Kate Hadley. My mother's name was Lettie Williams and she +married Wesley Thomas. My name is Wester Thomas. I'm seventy-nine years +old. Mistress Kate raised me. Dr. Hadley had more than a hundred slaves.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you about freedom. Two men in uniforms come and told master. +He had the farm bell rung. They told them the Civil War was over. They +was free. The niggers went back to their quarters. Some moved later. My +folks never left. Dr. Hadley died. Mistress Kate took all that wanted to +go to Louisiana then. We cleared up land down there. Later I farmed."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonAnnie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Annie Thompson, Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: 55?</h3> +<br> +<p>"I was raised by my father's sister and my grandmother. Later on I come +to my daddy here and my stepmother had other children. I soon married. +I've had a hard time.</p> + +<p>"My grandparents was Harriett Edwards and William Snow. Grandmother said +they were nice to her. She was Master Edwards' house girl. She cooked +and was a spinner. When I was a girl she had her spinning-wheel and she +taught me to spin and knit. She spun thread for caps, mittens, +stockings, socks, suspenders, and coats. We knit all those things when I +was a girl. Grandmother said the white folks never whooped her. +Grandmother was her old master's own girl and she nursed with one of his +white wife's children. She was real light.</p> + +<p>"My father's mother was a squaw. I don't know her name. She was sold +from grandpa and he went to Master Snow. He never seen her any more. He +took another wife and jumped over the broom on the Snow place. He +thought some of his owners was terrible. He had been whooped till he +couldn't wear clothes. He said they stuck so bad.</p> + +<p>"My own father whipped me once till my clothes stuck to my back. I told +you I had seen a pretty hard time in my own life. I was born in +Starkville, Mississippi.</p> + +<p>"Since I was a girl there has been many changes. I was married by Rev. +Bell December 14, 1902. My husband is living and still my husband. I can +see big changes taking place all the time. I was married at De Valls +Bluff."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>This woman could give me some comparative views on the present +generation but she didn't. It is one of the Saturday gathering halls. +She depends on it somewhat for a living and didn't say a word either pro +or con for the present generation.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonEllenBriggs"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ellen Briggs Thompson<br> + 3704 W. Twelfth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p><b>Birth and Relatives</b></p> + +<p>"I was born in October 1844, in Nashville, Arkansas. I don't remember +the exact day. I have went through thick and thin. I was a small girl +when my mother died. I got the rheumatism so bad I can't hardly walk. It +hurts me now. My oldest brother, Henry Briggs, was five years older than +me, and my youngest brother, Isaac Briggs, was five years younger than +me. I was born October, but he was born at Christmas Eve just after +surrender. My oldest brother died last year. My youngest brother is in +Galveston, Texas. If he is living, he is there. My name was Briggs +before I married. I was just studying about my sister-in-law when you +come up. If I could get the money, I would go to see her. She was my +oldest brother's wife. Her name was Frances Briggs after she married. +She lives in Emmet, Arkansas, where he married her. I just had two +brothers, no sisters.</p> + +<p>"My husband's name was Henry Thompson. He has been dead about twelve or +thirteen years. I have had so much sickness I can't remember exactly. I +married him a long time ago. I got it put down in the Bible. I married +yonder in Emmet, Arkansas. I ain't got the Bible nor nothing. My brother +had it and he is dead.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Daniel Briggs. He died in Hot Springs. We were +small children when he and my mother was separated. He was in one place +and we were in another. He tried to get us children when he died, but we +was little and couldn't get to him. My mother was dead then.</p> + +<p>"My mother's name was Susanna Briggs. Her father's name was Isaac Metz. +The children left him in South Carolina. The white folks sold them away +from him. My mother just had three children: me, and my two brothers. I +don't know how many my grandfather had. There were four sisters that I +know besides my mother and two boys: Aunt Melissa, and Aunt Jane, and +Aunt Annie, and Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Albert Mitchell, and Uncle Ben. My +grandmother's name was Betsy. I never got to see her but they told me +about her.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Good Masters</b></p> + +<p>"I have heard them say that their white folks didn't whip them. My +master was a good man. My young master, when it come to the surrender, +slipped back home and told them they was going to be free as ever he +was. His name was Joe Mitchell. I never seed my white folks whip anybody +in my life. They just never whipped anybody. They never whipped me. I +have seen the white folks next to us whip their Negroes and I asked +grandma about it. She said that those were their Negroes and she would +explain what they was being whipped for. They was on another farm. I +don't remember what they was being whipped for.</p> + +<p>"My young master told the slaves when he notified them they was free +that if they didn't want to stay with him, he would give them enough to +go on till they could make it, you know, to keep them from starving. He +was a good man.</p> + +<p>"The old man, Joe's father, was named Thomas Mitchell. He died before I +was born. I never seed him, just knowed his name. Joe's mother was named +Isabel Mitchell. I came to be named Briggs because her husband's name +was Briggs. He belonged to a Briggs. I don't know what his name was +else. They didn't belong to the same master. They used to let them +marry. They would fix great big tables. Sometimes they would marry in +the house; that was in the winter. Then sometimes they would marry +outdoors. Then they would set a long table for all their associates to +eat just like you would fix a table for your friends. Looked like they +would be so glad to see their boys and girls marry. They would have +regular preacher and marry just like they do now.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't no breeders on our place. But I have heard of people who +did keep a woman just for that purpose. They never whipped her nor +nothing. They just let her have children. As soon as she had one, they +would take it away from her so that she could have another one right +away.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Jayhawkers</b></p> + +<p>"When my young master was gone to the War and the jayhawkers would come +around, my young master's mother would take all the colored women and +children and lock them up and she would take a big heavy gun and go out +to meet them. The Jayhawkers were white people who would steal corn and +horses and even slaves if they could get them. But colored folks was +sharp. They would do things to break their horses' legs and they would +run and hide. My uncle was a young boy. He saw the Jayhawkers coming +once. And he ran and pressed himself under the crib. The space was so +small he nearly broke his ribs. His mistress had to get him out and take +him to the house.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother used to take me with her after dark when she'd go out to +pray. She wouldn't go anywhere without me. One time when she was out +praying, I touched her and said to her that I heard something in the +corn crib. She cut her prayer off right now and went and told it to her +old mistress, and to the young master, who was in the house just then +telling the Negroes they were all going to be free. The Jayhawkers spied +us and they got out and went on their way. My young master crawled out +and went back to the Confederate army. He had to crawl out because he +wanted to keep anybody from seeing him and capturing him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Soldiers</b></p> + +<p>"I never seed but one or two soldiers. That was after the surrender. I +suppose they were Union soldiers. They had on their blue jackets. There +never was any fighting in Nashville, while I was living there.</p> + +<p>"About all that I knew about the War was that the men went off to fight. +None of the colored men went—just the white men. The colored men stayed +back and worked in the field. Isabel Mitchell and her boys were bosses. +What they said <u>goed</u>.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Houses</b></p> + +<p>"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them were plank houses. +Some of the slaves chinked 'em up with dirt. They had these big wooden +windows in the houses. Sometimes they would be two, sometimes they would +be three windows—one to each room. There would be two or three or four +rooms to the house. That would be according to the family. My mother had +three girls besides her own children. She had a four-room house. Her +house was built right in the white folks' yard. My grandmother didn't +work in the field. She tended to the children. She worked in the big +house. My mother was boss of the whole thing. She would go and work in +the field but grandmother would see after the children. She wouldn't let +me go from her to the gate without her. I just had to follow her +everywhere she went.</p> + +<p>"Grandmother besides taking care of us used to make clothes. She cooked +for the white folks. But she sure had to see after us children. I seed +after myself. I was all the girl-child there and I just did what I +wanted to.</p> + +<p>"The country was kind of wild in those days. The deer used to come +loping down and we would be scared and run and hide. Some people would +set the dogs on them and some people would kill them no matter who they +belonged.</p> + +<p>You see, some people had them as pets.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"I never seed nothing in the way of amusements except people going to +church and going to parties and all such as that. They believed in going +to church. They would have parties at night. The white folks didn't care +what they had. They would help prepare for it. They would let 'em have +anything they wanted to have and let 'em go to church whenever they +wanted to go.</p> + +<p>And if they took a notion they would have a supper. When they would have +a party they would do just like they do now. They would have dancing. I +never seed any playing cards. When they danced, somebody would play the +fiddle for them. When they had a supper, they would usually sell the +things. Then the white folks would come and buy from them. There would +be nice looking things on the table.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Church</b></p> + +<p>"They had meetings at Center Point, and at Arkadelphia. And they would +let us go to them or anywhere else we wanted. We had to have passes, of +course. They had colored preachers. Sometimes the slaves would go to the +white people's church. They wouldn't go often, just every once in +awhile. White ladies would get after the colored to come and go with +them sometimes. Sometimes, too, when they would have a dinner or +something, they would take Aunt Sue or mother to cook for them. They +wouldn't let nobody meddle with them or bother them—none of the other +white folks. And they would let them fix a table for their own friends +that they would want to have along.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Personal Occupations</b></p> + +<p>"I used to work in the field or in the house or anything I could get to +do. I would even go out and saw these big rails when my husband would +have a job and couldn't get a chance to do it. It has been a good while +since I have been able to do any good work. My husband has been dead +fifteen years and I had to quit work long before he died.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Right after the War</b></p> + +<p>"Right after the War my folks worked in the field, washed, cooked, or +anything they could do. They left the old place and came down about +Washington, Arkansas. I don't know just how long they stayed in +Washington. From Washington, my mother went to Prescott and settled +there at a little place they called Sweet Home, just outside of +Prescott. That is where my daughter was born and that is where my mother +died. I came here about nine years ago.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Present Support</b></p> + +<p>I came here to stay with my daughter. But now she doesn't have any help +herself. She has three small children and she's their only support now. +She's not working either. She just come in from the Urban League looking +for a job. They say that they don't have a thing and that the people +don't want any women now. They just want these young girls because they +make them work cheaper. We have both applied for help from the Welfare +but neither of us has gotten anything yet."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonHattie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Hattie Thompson, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born the second year after the surrender. I was born close to +Arlington, Tennessee. My parents was Mariah Thermon and Johnson Mayo. +They had eight children. They belong to different owners. I heard mama +say in slavery time she'd clean her house good Saturday and clean up her +children and start cooking dinner fore pa come. They looked forward to +pa coming. Now that was at our own house.</p> + +<p>"Mama was heired. She was the house woman and cook for her young +mistress, Miss Sallie Thermon. She married Mr. John Thermon. She was +Miss Sallie Royster till she married. I heard her say she raised Miss +Sallie's children with her own. She was a wet nurse. I know Miss Sallie +was good to her. I don't think she was sold but her mother was sold. She +would spin and weave and the larger children did too. They made bed +spreads in colors and solid white. They called the colored ones +coverlets. They was pretty. Mama helped quilt. She was a good hand at +that. They made awful close stitches and backstitched every now and then +to make it hold. They would wax the thread to keep it from rolling up +and tangling.</p> + +<p>"Thread was in balls. They rolled it from skeins to balls. They rolled +it from shuck broches to the balls. Put shucks around the spindle to +slip it off easy. I have seen big balls this big (2 ft. in diameter) +down on the floor and mama, knitting off of it right on. When the feet +wore out on socks and stockings, they would unravel them, save the good +thread, and reknit the foot or toe or heel.</p> + +<p>"When I was a child, patching and darning was stylish. Soon as the +washing was brung in the clothes had to be sorted out and every snag +place patched nice. Folks had better made clothes and had to take care +of em. Clothes don't last no time now. White folks had fine clothes but +they didn't have nigh as many as white folks do now.</p> + +<p>"Mama was a pretty good hand at doing mighty nigh what she took a notion +to do about the house. She never was no count in the field—jess +couldn't hold out it seem like. She worked in the field lots. Pa was a +shoemaker. He made all our shoes and had his tools, lasts, etc. He +learned his trade in slavery. He farmed.</p> + +<p>"It has been so long ago I tell you I don't recollect things straight. I +don't know how they found out about freedom but they left I think. They +got all they could take, their clothes and a little to eat. They started +share cropping. They was out from Holly Springs when I come to +knowledge. Mama was a nice hand at cooking and hand sewing. She said +Miss Sallie learnt her. She never could read.</p> + +<p>"I come to Arkansas fifty year ago this spring with one little girl—all +the little girl I ever had. I never had no boys. I come here to get +work. I always got work. It was a new country and it was being cleared +out. In the spring we could get wild polk greens to cook. You can't get +none now.</p> + +<p>"Times is sider'bly changed since then. Hogs run wild. Plenty game here +then. Something to eat was not hard to get then as it is now. We raise a +hog in a pen nearly every year but it takes plenty to feed it that way.</p> + +<p>"My husband have rheumatism and we get $12 and commodities. He works in +the field and I wash and iron when I can get some to do. That is scarce. +He works all he can."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonMamie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person Interviewed: Mamie Thompson<br> + Brinkley, Ark.<br> +Age: 68</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I come here with my parents in 1887. Nothing much here in Brinkley then +but woods and three stores. My mother was a mix-breed. She was mixed +with Cherokee Indian and Negro. My father come from Virginia. He was +black—so black he shined. My mother was born in Cairo, Illinois. My +mother and father both died here in Brinkley. This town started from a +big saw mill."</p> + +<p>"Understand, all I knows was told to me by my parents. Grandma's master +was Master Redman. He kept Aunt Emma and my mother. They never was sold. +My mother was put on the block but her mistress come took her down. +Master Redman had her in the field working. The overseer was a white +man. He tried to take her down and carry on with her. She led him to the +house. He wanted her whooped cause she had whooped him sort of. He was +mad cause he couldn't overpower her. Master Redman got her in the +kitchen to whoop her with a cow hide; she told him she would kill him; +she got a stick. He let her out and they come to buy her—<u>a Negro +trader</u>. Old Mistress—his wife—went out and led her down from there +in the house and told Master Redman if he sold Mattie she would quit +him—she meant leave him. Mistress Redman kept her with her and made a +house girl out of her. She tended to the children and cleaned the house. +Aunt Emma milked and churned.</p> + +<p>"Grandma was a Molly Glaspy woman. She had straight wavy hair, small +eyes. She was a small woman. Grandpa was a tall big man. He was a full +blood Indian.</p> + +<p>"My mother called whiskey 'jagger'—I don't know why.</p> + +<p>"After Mr. Redman died, Miss Mary married Mr. Badgett. Me and George and +Sissy all growed up together. My mother was married twice too. She had +two of us by her first husband and eight children by her last husband.</p> + +<p>"I heard them say they lived in Crittenden County, Arkansas during the +Civil War. They lived in west Tennessee not far from Memphis when I was +a child. Mrs. Badgett lived in Memphis after she got old. Mary's mother +visited her long as she lived. I did too. She has been dead several +years. She give me a sugar bowl when I was twelve years old—I still got +it. I won't sell it. I'll give it to my girl.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about the Ku Klux. I never heard a great deal about them.</p> + +<p>"I don't vote—not interested.</p> + +<p>"Well, I sewed till the very day I was 65 years old. The foreman said I +was too old now, but sign up for the pension. I am crippled. I did. I +get commodities, but no money.</p> + +<p>"I washed, ironed, cooked. I worked at Mrs. Jim Gunn's and I cooked nine +years for Mrs. Dora Gregg. I work whenever I can get work to be done. I +like to sew but they cut me off."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThompsonMike"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mike Thompson, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born near Honey Grove, Texas. I remember my grandparents on both +sides—they were all Thompsons. They were cotton and corn farmers. I +don't know where they come from. I was so small and as soon as the War +was done a whole gang of us come from Texas to Dardanelle, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"The Bushwhackers was so bad we was guarded to the line and they went +back. We come in wagons. Bushwhackers was robbers. I remember that. My +grandparents and parents all come in the gang. Clem Thompson, my owner, +died. He had a family. I don't know what become of none but Ed Thompson. +We was the same age and growed up together. I worked for him at +Dardanelle but I don't know how he come from Texas. He butchered and +peddled meat and had a shop too. I don't think Ed owned land over at +Dardanelle but my father owned eighty acres over there when he died. My +father was Cubit Thompson. His father was Plato Thompson. My mother was +Harriett Thompson.</p> + +<p>"The Thompsons was fairly good to their niggers, I recken. Ed was good +to me. He promised me I should never want but I don't know if he be dead +or not. I wish I could hear from him.</p> + +<p>"When I was about twenty-five years old I was coming in home from town +one night. I seen his house on fire. I kept going fast as I could run, +woke him up. He run out but his wife didn't. He said, 'My wife! my wife! +my wife!' I run in where he run out. She was standing back in a corner +the flames nearly all around her. I picked her up and run out and about +that time the whole house fell in. They never got through thanking me. I +come off over here and never hear a word from him. He always said I +saved their lives and hers mostly.</p> + +<p>"Times—young men can get work if they will go to the field and work. If +you can't work, times is hard two ways. If you are used to work, you +hard to get contentment and loss of the money too. Money don't buy much. +Awful sight of cotton and you don't get much out of it. Young folks is +got young notions.</p> + +<p>"I come to Widener in 1908. I made a good living. I own this house. Now +I got to quit working in bad weather. My rheumatism gets so bad. I'll be +eighty years old 23rd of September this year (1938)."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ThorntonLaura"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person Interviewed: Laura Thornton<br> + 1215 W. Twenty-Fourth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 105?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My native home is Alabama. I was born not far from Midway, Alabama, +about twelve miles from Clayton. Midway, Clayton, and Barber are all +nearby towns. We used to go to all of them.</p> + +<p>"My master was Tom Eford. When he died, I fell to Polly Eford. Polly +Eford was the old lady. I don't know where they is and they don't know +nothing about where I is. It's been so long. Because I done lef' Alabama +fifty years. I don't know whether any of them is living or not. It's +been so long.</p> + +<p>"Their baby boy was named Giles Eford. His mother was Miami Eford and my +father's name was Perry Eford. That is the name he went in. My mother +went in that name too. My father died the second year of the surrender. +My mother was a widow a long time. I was a grown-up woman and had +children when my father died.</p> + +<p>"I married during slavery time. I don't remember just how old I was +then. My old man knows my age, but I can't remember it. But he's been +dead this year makes thirteen years. I had one child before the +surrender. I was just married to the one man. I was married after the +surrender. I don't want to be married again. I never seed a man I would +give a thought to since he died. Lord knows how long we'd been married +before he died.</p> + +<p>"We came here and stayed four years and we bought a home down on Arch +Street Pike about ten miles from here. I lived there sixty years. I've +got the tax receipts for sixty years back. I ain't never counted the +ones I paid since he's been dead.</p> + +<p>"I was the mother of three children and none of them are living. All of +them dead but me.</p> + +<p>"They made like they was goin' to give old slave folks a pension. They +ain't gimme none yit. I'm just livin' on the mercy of the people. I +can't keep up the taxes now. I wish I could git a pension. It would help +keep me up till I died. They won't even as much as give me nothin' on +the relief. They say these grandchildren ought to keep me up. I have to +depend on them and they can't hardly keep up theirselves.</p> + +<p>"When the Civil War broke out, my baby was about seven years old. My +mother was here when the stars fell. She had one child then.</p> + +<p>"I remember a war before the Civil War. I heard the white folks talking +about it. They wouldn't tell colored folks nothing. They'd work them to +death and beat them to death. They'd sell them just like you sell hogs. +My mother was sold from me when I was little. Old lady Eford, she was my +mistress and mammy too. If she ever slapped me, I don't know nothin' +'bout it.</p> + +<p>"My daddy made his farm jus' like colored people do now. White man would +give him so much ground if he'd a mind to work it. He had a horse he +used.</p> + +<p>"We lived a heap better than the people live now. They fed you then. You +ate three times a day. When twelve o'clock come, there dinner was, +cooked and ready. Nothin' to do but eat it, and then set down and res' +with the other people. There was them that was good.</p> + +<p>"But them what was mean done the colored folks bad.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Early Days</b></p> + +<p>"I was little when my mother was sold from me. I was runnin' about +though in the yard. I couldn't do nothing. But I was a smart girl. The +first work I can remember doin' was goin' to the field ploughing. That +is the first thing I remember. I was little. I just could come up to the +plough. I cut logs when I was a little child like them children there +(children about ten years old playing in the street). I used to clean up +new ground—do anything.</p> + +<p>"My mother and father both worked in the field. My father was sold away +from me jus' like my mother was. Old lady Eford was my mother and father +too. That was in Clayton, Alabama. Old Tom Eford had three boys—one +named Tom, one named William, and there was the one named Giles what I +told you about. William was the oldest, Tom was the second, and Giles +was the youngest.</p> + +<p>"I never learnt to read and write. In slave time, they didn't let you +have no books. My brother though was a good reader. He could write as +well as any of them because he would be with the white children and they +would show him. That is the way my brother learnt. He would lay down all +day Sunday and study. The good blessed Lord helped him.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> + +<p>"The man I married was on the plantation. They married in slave time +just like they do these days. When I married, the justice of peace +married me. That was after freedom, our folks would give big weddings +just like they do now (just after the war). I ain't got my license now. +Movin' 'round, it got lost. I was married right at home where me and my +old man stayed. Wasn't nobody there but me and him and another man named +Dr. Bryant. That wasn't far from Midway.</p> + +<p>"I can't talk much since I had those strokes. Can't talk plain, just +have to push it out, but I thank God I can do that much. The Lord let me +stay here for some reason—I don't know what. I would rather go, but he +ain't called me.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How the Day Went</b></p> + +<p>"We got up after daylight. Tom Eford didn't make his folks git up early. +But after he was dead and gone, things changed up. The res' made 'em git +up before daylight. He was a good man. The Lord knows. Yes Lord, way +before day. You'd be in the field to work way before day and then work +way into the night. The white folks called Eford's colored people poor +white folks because he was so good to them. Old Tom Eford was the +sheriff of Clayton.</p> + +<p>"His folks came back to the house at noon and et their dinner at the +house. He had a cook and dinner was prepared for them just like it was +for the white folks. The colored woman that cooked for them had it ready +when they came there for it. They had a great big kitchen and the hands +ate there. They came back to the same place for supper. And they didn't +have to work late either. Old Tom Eford never worked his hands extra. +That is the reason they called his niggers poor-white folks. Folks lived +at home them days and et in the same place. When my old man was living, +I had plenty. Smokehouse was full of good meat. Now everything you git, +you have to buy.</p> + +<p>"Next morning, they all et their breakfast in the same kitchen. They et +three meals a day every day. My mother never cooked except on Sunday. +She didn't need to.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> + +<p>"Me and old lady Eford would be out in the yard and I would hear her +cuss the pateroles because they didn't want folks to 'buse their +niggers. They had to git a pass from their masters when they would be +out. If they didn't have a pass, the pateroles would whip them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Jayhawkers</b></p> + +<p>"The jayhawkers would catch folks and carry them out in the woods and +hang them up. They'd catch you and beat you to death.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Runaways</b></p> + +<p>"Colored folks what would run away, old lady Eford would call them +'rottenheads' and 'bloody bones.' We would hear the hounds baying after +them and old lady Eford would stand out in the yard and cuss them—cuss +the hounds I mean. Like that would do any good. Some slaves would kill +theirselves before they would be caught. They would hear them dogs. I +have seen old Tom Eford. He would have them dogs. He was sheriff and he +had to do it. He carried them dogs. He would be gone two weeks before he +would be back sometimes. Alden or Alton was the place they said they +carried the runaways.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Breeding</b></p> + +<p>"They never kept no slaves for breeding on any plantation I heard of. +They would work them to death and breed them too. There was places where +old massa kept one for hisself.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Amusements</b></p> + +<p>"Folks had heap more pleasure than they do now in slave time. They had +parties and dances and they would bow 'round. They had fiddles and +danced by them. Folks danced them days. They don't dance now, just mess +around. My brother could scrape the fiddle and dance on, all at the same +time. Folks would give big suppers and ask people out. They would feed +nice times with one another. Folks ain't got no love in their hearts +like they used to have.</p> + +<p>"Folks would give quiltings. They don't think about quilting now. They +would quilt out a quilt and dance the rest of the night. They would have +a big supper at the quilting. Nice time too. They would kill a hog and +barbecue it. They would cook chicken. Have plenty of whiskey too. Some +folks would get drunk. That was whiskey them days. They ain't got no +whiskey now—old poison stuff that will kill people.</p> + +<p>My daddy was jus' drunk all the time. He had plenty of whiskey. That was +what killed old Tom Eford. He kept it settin' on the dresser all the +time. You couldn't walk in his house but what you would see it time you +got in. Folks hide it now. I have drunk a many a glass of it. I would go +and take a glass whenever I wanted to.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> + +<p>"The old white folks told me I was free. They had me hired out. I wasn't +staying with my owner. There wasn't nobody there with me but the white +folks where I was staying. That morning I got up to get breakfast and +there wasn't no fire and there wasn't so matches. I went to some +neighbors to get a chunk of fire and they told me to go back to my folks +because I was free. When I got back to the house they was mad and wanted +to whip me. So I just put the fire down and never cooked no breakfast +but jus' went on to my brother's. The reason they wanted to whip me was +because I had gone outside of the house without their knowing it.</p> + +<p>"When I went to my brother's, I had to walk twelve miles. My brother +carried me to my mother and father. And then he took me back to old lady +Eford, and she told me to go on to my mother, that I was free now. So he +took me on back to my ma and pa. He said he'd do that so that I could +stay with them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Earnings</b></p> + +<p>"Slaves had money in slave time. My daddy bought a horse. He made a crop +every year. He made his bale of cotton. He made corn to feed his horse +with. He belonged to his white folks but he had his house and lot right +next to theirs. They would give him time you know. He didn't have to +work in the heat of the day. He made his crop and bought his whiskey. +The white folks fed 'im. He had no expenses 'cept tending to his crop. +He didn't have to give Tom Eford anything he made. He just worked his +crop in his extra time. Many folks too lazy to git theirselves somethin' +when they have the chance to do it. But my daddy wasn't that kind. His +old master gave him the ground and he made it give him the money.</p> + +<p>"My daddy left me plenty but I ain't got it now. I didn't care what +happened when he died. People made out like they was goin' to put my +money in the bank for me and took it and destroyed it. Used it for +theirselves I reckon. Now I need it and ain't got it—ain't got a penny. +For five or six years at my home, I made good crops. We raised +everything we needed at home. Didn't know what it was to come to town to +buy anything. If anybody had told me twenty years ago I would be in this +shape, I wouldn't have believed it because I had plenty.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>What Slaves Got When Freed</b></p> + +<p>"They said they was gwine a give the slaves something, but they never +did do it. Then the master made out like he was gwine a give the slaves +so much if they stayed 'round and made his crops for him, but he didn't +do it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Come Again</b></p> + +<p>"If the Lord lets you git back tomorrow, try and come a little sooner in +the day than you did today. I gits up about six in the morning. I don't +believe in layin' in bed late. I go to bed directly after dark and I +wake up early. The Lord never did mean for nobody to sleep all day."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>A number of people testify to Laura Thornton's age. I am trying to check +up on it. Results later. If she isn't a hundred [HW: and] five years +old, she is "mighty nigh" it. She has feeble health, but a surprisingly +alert mind, and a keen sharp memory. She has a tendency to confuse +Reconstruction times with slavery times, but a little questioning always +brings out the facts.</p> + +<p>She doesn't like to talk much about marriage in slavery. Evidently she +dislikes the fact that one of her children ms born before emancipation. +She was evidently married only once, as questioning brought out; but she +will refer to the marriage before emancipation and the one afterward as +though they were to different persons.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TidwellEmma"></a> +<h3>[HW: Curtis, Ark.<br> +Emma (Bama?) Tidwell]</h3> +<br> +<p><b>OLD SLAVE STORIES</b></p> + +<p><b>I</b></p> + +<p>Ah'm one uv dem ole timers. Ah been here since way back yonder. Fust +thing ah kin member is a bad storm an mah ma put us undah de baid. She +wuz skeered hit would blow us away. Ah use tuh play till ah got bigger +nuff tuh work. Ah member we use tuh play runnin. We'd play walkin tuh +see which one uv us could walk de fastest tuh de field tuh carry dinner. +We use tuh jump an we use tuh ride stick hosses an limbs offn trees.</p> + +<p>Ole boss learnt mah pa how tuh make shoes an de way he done: Dey kilt a +cow an a deer an take dey hides an tanned dem. De way he tanned hit wuz +tuh take red oak bark an white oak bark an put in vats. Dese vats wuz +somethin like troughs dat helt water an he put a layer uv oak ashes an +or layer uv ashes an a layer uv leather till he got hit all in an +covered wid water. Aftuh dat dey let hit soak till de hair come offn de +hide den dey would take de hide oft an hit wuz ready fuh tannin. Den de +hide wuz put tuh soak in wid de redoak bark. Hit stayed in de water till +de hide turnt tan den pa took de hide out uv de redoak dye an hit would +be a purty tan. Hit didn' have tuh soak so long. Den he would git his +pattern an cut an make tan shoes outn dat tanned hide. We called dem +brogans. We all wore shoes cause mah pa made em.</p> + +<p>We planted indigo an hit growed jes like wheat. When hit got ripe we +gathered hit an we would put hit in a barrel an let hit soak bout er +week den we would take de indigo stems out an squeeze all de juice outn +dem, put de juice back in de barrel an let hit stay dere bout nother +week, den we jes stirred an stirred one whole day. We let hit set three +or four days den drained de water offn hit an dat left de settlings an +de settlings wuz blueing jes like we have dese days. We cut ours in +little blocks. Den we dyed clothes wid hit. We had purty blue cloth. De +way we set de color we put alumn in hit. Dat make de color stay right +dere.</p> + +<p>Ah'll tell yuh how tuh dye. Er little beech bark dyes slate color set +wid copper. Hickory bark an bay leaves dyes yellow set wid chamber lye; +bamboo dyes turkey red, set color wid copper. Pine straw an sweetgum +dyes purple, set color wid chamber lye. Ifn yuh dont bleave hit try em +all.</p> + +<p>Mah ma made cloth while mah pa made shoes. Ah member jes as good when +dey handcuff mah ma's two brothers tuh keep um from runnin off when dey +got ready tuh sell em. Ah seed um handcuff as many as eight tugethuh +when dey marched dem tuh de pen. Yuh know dey had uh pen kinder like de +pond pen fer cows an hosses. Well dey would drive us niggers tuh de pond +pen an dey had er big block in de pen an dey put one uv us niggers on +hit at a time. Bid us off tuh de highest bidder. Mah ole boss wuz a +gambler. People talk bout dis gamblin an drinkin bein a late thing—dem +white fokes done hit way back yonder 90 years ergo, cause mah ole boss +gambled me off, ah clare he did. Gambled me off one Sunday mornin'. Ole +Boss made whiskey jes like dey do tuhday.</p> + +<p>Black preachers couldn' preach tuh us. Ole boss would tie em tuh a tree +an whoop em if dey caught us eben praying. We had er big black washpot +an de way we prayed we'd go out an put our mouths to der groun an pray +low an de sound wud go up under de pot an ole boss couldn' bear us. De +white preacher would call us under a tree Sunday evenin tuh preach tuh +us. Dis is whut his text would be: "Mind yo mistress." Den he would ceed +tuh preach—"Don't steal der potatoes; don't lie bout nothin an don' +talk back tuh yo boss; ifn yo does yo'll be tied tuh a tree an stripped +neckid. When dey tell yuh tuh do somethin run an do it." Dat's de kind +uv gospel we got.</p> + +<p>We cooked on fiuhplaces in er iron pot; cooked bread in a ubben. We had +ash cakes. We et purty good.</p> + +<p>Ah didn go tuh school. Ah wuz awful sly. Ah wanted tuh learn tuh read so +ah hung eroun ole mistess when she wuz teachin huh chillun tuh read. Ah +listened an when she put de book down an went out ah got de book. Ah +kep' hit up till ah learnt tuh read. Ah been teachin one Bible class in +Curtis 42 years. Some uv em dare ask me how ah learnt tuh read so good +an ah tole dem dat a person dat couldn' learn tuh read in a hunnert +years ought tuh be daid.</p> + +<p>Ah wuz twenty-two when de silver war broke. Ah know when hit started but +ah don' know whut hit wuz erbout. All I know Jeff Davis an Abraham +Lincoln wuz de two presidents. Lincoln wuz somethin like regular +president an Jeff Davis wuz somethin like er confedric president or +somethin. Ah didn' know jes how hit wuz. Jeff Davis ah think wuz er +rebel and Lincoln republic. When de fight come up dey wuzn fightin tuh +set de niggers free, ah don' think. At de time dey wuz fightin ovah de +Union but aftuh de slave owners wuz gwianter take de innocent slaves an +make dem fight on dey side. Den Lincoln said hit wouldn' be. So dat when +he sot em free. Whoopee! Yo ought ter seed dem Yankees fightin. Aftuh de +battle wuz ovah we would walk ovah de battle groun' an look at de daid +bones, skellums ah think dey called em. Aftuh de white fokes tole us we +wuz free dey didn' give us nothin. Turnt us out widout a place tuh stay, +no clo'es but whut we had on our back an nuthin tuh eat. We jes slept +undah trees an roun bout. Didn' have nuthin tuh eat cept parched corn. +We stole dat. Had tuh do somethin. De nex year de white fokes let us +make a crop wid den fuh somethin tuh eat an clo'es an de women could +work fuh a few clo'es an somethin tuh eat. So in er year er two niggers +went tuh tryin tuh duh somethin fuh demselves, an been tryin tuh help +dey selfs evah since. Ah know all bout hit. Ah wuz tall an ah is now +when dey cried "Free!" Ain't growed nairy nother inch.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TillmanJoe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Joe Tillman<br> + W. 10th and Highway No. 79<br> + Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in 1859 down here at Walnut Lake. The man what owned us was +Crum Holmes.</p> + +<p>"All I can remember was the patrollers and the Ku Klux. I reckon I ought +to, I seed 'em. I got skeered and run. I heered 'em talk 'bout how +they'd do the folks and we chillun thought they'd do us the same way.</p> + +<p>"I 'member hearin' 'em talk 'bout the Yankees—how they'd come through +there and how they used to do.</p> + +<p>"I guess we had plenty to eat. All I know was when I got ready to eat, I +could eat.</p> + +<p>"My parents was brought from Tennessee but all the place I know anything +about is Walnut Lake.</p> + +<p>"I know my mother said I was the cause of her gettin' a lot of +whippin's. I'd run off and the boss man whipped her cause she wasn't +keepin' me at home. If he didn't whip her, he'd pull her ears.</p> + +<p>"When we was comin' up they didn't 'low the chillun to sit around where +the old folks was talkin'. And at night when company come in, we chillun +had to go to bed out the way. Sometimes I'm glad of it. See so many +chillun now gettin' into trouble.</p> + +<p>"I never been arrested in my life. Been a witness once or twice—that's +the only way I ever been in court. If I'd a been like a lot of 'em, I +might a been dead or in the pen.</p> + +<p>"In them days, if we did something wrong, anybody could whip us and if +we'd go tell our folks we get another whippin'.</p> + +<p>"After freedom my parents stayed there and worked by the day. They +didn't have no privilege of sellin' the cotton though.</p> + +<p>"I didn't start to farm till I was 'bout twelve years old. They started +me bustin' out the middles till I learnt how and then they put the +plowin' in my hands.</p> + +<p>"White people been pretty good to me 'cause I done what they told me.</p> + +<p>"I went to school a little 'long about '70. I learnt how to read and +kept on till I could write a little.</p> + +<p>"I used to vote 'til they stopped us. I used to vote right along, but I +stopped foolin' with it. 'Course we can vote in the president election +but I got so I couldn't see what ticket I was votin', so I stopped +foolin' with it.</p> + +<p>"I farmed till 'bout '94, then I worked at the compress and brick work."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TimsJT"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: J.T. Tims<br> + 111 Mosaic Temple, Ninth and Broadway<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 86<br> +Occupation: Cook, waiter, and farmer</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born in Jefferson County, Mississippi in 1853. That would make me +eighty-six years old. I was born six miles from Fayette—six miles east +of Fayette. I was eighty-six years old the eleventh day of September.</p> + +<p>"My father's name was Daniel Tims, and my mother's name was Ann Tims. My +mother was born in Lexington, Kentucky. Ma's been dead years and years +ago, and my father is gone too. My mother's name before she married was +----; she she told it to us all right but I just never can think of it.</p> + +<p>"I don't know the name of my mother's master. But my father's master was +named Blount Steward. Pa was born on Blount's plantation and Blount +bought my ma because they brought her from Kentucky for sale. They had +her for sale just like you would sell hogs and mules. Then my father saw +her and liked her and married her. She was a slave too.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Master</b></p> + +<p>"Blount Steward was kinder good. He was very well till the war +started—the Federal War. Miss Ann went to whip me for nothing.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Whippings</b></p> + +<p>"I was carrying her daughter to school every day except Saturdays and +Sundays. One day, Miss Ann was off and I was at the back steps playing +and she decided to whip me. I told her I hadn't done nothing but she put +my head between her legs and started to beatin' me. And I bit her legs. +She lemme loose and hollered. Then she called for William to come and +beat me. William was one of the colored slaves. William come to do it. +Ma had been peeping out from the kitchen watchin' the whole thing. When +William come up to beat me, she came out with a big carving knife and +told him, 'That's my child and if you hit him, I'll kill you.'</p> + +<p>"Then she sent for Tully to come and whip me, I mean to whip my mother. +Tully was my young master. Tully came and said to my mother, 'I know you +ain't done nothin' nor your child neither, but I'll have to hit you a +few light licks to satisfy ma.'</p> + +<p>"Blount come the next day and went down to where pa was making shoes. He +said, 'Daniel, you're looking mighty glum.'</p> + +<p>"Pa said, 'You'd be lookin' glum too if your wife and chile had done +been beat up for nothin'.'</p> + +<p>"When he said that, Blount got mad. He snatched up a shoe hammer and hit +pa up side the head with it.</p> + +<p>"Pa said, 'By God, don't you try it again.'</p> + +<p>"Blount didn't hit him again. Pa was ready to fight, and he wasn't sure +that he could whip him. Pa said, 'You won't hit me no more.' The war was +goin' on then.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Runaways</b></p> + +<p>"The following Sunday night, twelve head of 'em left there. My ma and pa +and me and our whole family and some more besides was along. We went +from the plantation to Rodney, Mississippi first, trying to get on a +steamboat—gunboat. The gunboat wouldn't take us for fear we would get +hurt. The war was goin' on then. So we just transferred down the river +and went on to Natchez. We went there walking and wading. We was from +Sunday night to Sunday night gettin' there. We didn't have no trouble +'sept that the hounds ms runnin' us. But they didn't catch us—they +didn't catch none of us. My ma and my pa and my brothers and sisters +besides me was all in the crowd; and we all got to Natchez.</p> + +<p>"They are all dead and gone to Judgment now but me. I think that I got +one sister in Chicago, Illinois. She is my baby sister. I ain't never +heard nothing about her bein' dead.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Natchez</b></p> + +<p>"At Natchez, ma didn't do anything. We children didn't do nothin' either +there. But pa joined the army. He joined it the next day after he got +there. Then I went to work waiting on the sixty-fourth—lemme see—yes, +it was the Sixty-Fourth Brass Epaulettes. I was waiting on one of the +sergeants. He was a Yankee sergeant. The sergeant's name was Josephus, +and the captain of the Company was Lieutenant Knowles. I was with them +two years and six months. I never did get hurt. When they went to fight +at New Orleans, the captain wouldn't lemme take part in it. He said that +I was so brave he was a 'fraid I might get hurt.</p> + +<p>"Me and my father were the only ones working in the family at that time. +I stayed right in Natchez but my father didn't. My father's first stop +was in Bullocks Bar right above Vidalia. That was where his company was +stationed first. Lemme see, he went from there to Davis Bend. I wasn't +with them. He was in a colored regiment. I was with a white regiment. He +left Davis Bend and want to Vicksburg. His next trip was up the +Sunflower River. His next trip he went from there up here to De Valls +Bluff. That is where he come free. That was the end of the fighting +there—right there.</p> + +<p>"From there he come back to Rodney. We all want to Davis Bend while pa +was there. When he left and went to De Valls Bluff, ma went to Rodney. I +stayed with the soldiers two years and a half down there at Natchez. +That's as far as I went with them. When they left I stayed.</p> + +<p>"I went to Rodney with my mother and stayed with her and the rest of the +children till she died. My ma died in 1874. My father died down here in +Pine Bluff several years ago. After ma died, pa married another woman. +He went back to Pine Bluff and was killed by a train when he was +crossing a trestle.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Age and Other Masters</b></p> + +<p>"Blount Steward was the only master any of us ever had, outside of my +ma's first master—the one in Kentucky. I don't know anything about +them. I was eight years old when the war began and twelve years old when +it ended. I must have been older than that because I was twelve years +old when I was serving them soldiers. And I had to come away from them +before the war was over.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Work</b></p> + +<p>"The first work I ever did in slave time was dining-room service. When I +left the dining-room table, I left carrying my young mistress to school +six miles from Fayette. They give me to Lela, my young mistress. She was +the young girl I was carrying to school when I got the whipping. When +ol' mis' was whippin' me, I asked her what she was whipping me for, and +she said, 'Nothin', 'cause you're mine, and I can whip you if I want +to.' She didn't think that I had done anything to the girl. She was just +mad that day, and I was around; so she took it out on me. After that, I +never did any more work as a slave, because the whole family ran away +about that time. I don't reckon pa would ever have run off if ol' miss +hadn't whipped me and if ol' massa hadn't struck him. They rats good +till then; but it looked like the war made them mean.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Patrollers, Jayhawkers, Ku Klux, and Ku Klux Klan</b></p> + +<p>"They had pateroles going 'round watching the colored people to keep +them from running off. That's all I know 'bout them. I don't remember +hearin' anything about the jayhawkers.</p> + +<p>"I heard lots 'bout the Ku Klux. They were terrible. The white folks had +one another goin' 'round watching and keeping them from runnin' off. The +Ku Klux would whip people they caught out. They would whip them just +because they could; because they called themselves bosses, because they +was white and the colored people was niggers. They didn't do nothin' but +just keep the slaves down. It was before the war that I knew 'bout the +Ku Klux. There wasn't no difference between the pateroles and the Ku +Klux that I knows of. If they'd ketch you, they all would whip you. I +don't know nothin' about the Ku Klux Klan after the war. I know they +broke them up.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Houses, Furniture, Food, and Work</b></p> + +<p>"Before the war, we lived in a old log house. It had one window, one +door, and one room. Colored people didn't have no two or three-room +houses before the war. I'll tell you that right now. All the furniture +we had was bed stools and quilts. 'Course we had them old stools that pa +made. We kept food right there in the house where we was in one corner. +We didn't have no drawers—nothing like that. The white folks fed us. +They give us as much as they thought we ought to have. Every Saturday +night you would go to the smokehouse and get your meat and meal and your +molasses. Didn't get no flour, no coffee, no sugar. Pa was an ox driver +and when he would go to Rodney to carry cotton, he would buy sugar and +coffee for himself. You see, they would slip a little something and make +a little money off it. Like they was goin' to Rodney tomorrow, they +would slip and kill a couple of hogs and carry them along with them. +That was the only way they could get a little money. My pa's main work +was shoemaking, but he worked in the field too. He was a driver chiefly +when he was out in the field. He hoed and plowed. He was the leader of +the gang. He never got a chance to make no money for hisself before the +war. Nope, the colored people didn't have no money 'tall lessen they +slipped and got it.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Slave Marriages</b></p> + +<p>"Say I wanted this woman for my wife. We would just put down the broom +and step over it and we would be married. That is all there was to it +before emancipation. Didn't have no matrimony read nor nothing. You were +married when you stepped over the broom handle. That was your wife.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>A Lincoln Story</b></p> + +<p>"They say Abe Lincoln come down in this part of the country and asked +for work. He had his little grip just like you got. The man said, 'Wait +till I go to dinner.' Didn't say, 'Come to dinner,' and didn't say +nothin' 'bout, 'Have dinner.' Just said, 'Wait till I go eat my dinner.' +When he come back, Abe Lincoln was up there looking over his books. He'd +done changed his clothes and everything. He had guards with him but they +didn't see 'em. That is the story I heard them tell.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>What the Slaves Got</b></p> + +<p>"When the slaves got freed, they wasn't expecting to get nothing that I +knows of 'cept what they worked for. They weren't spectin' no forty +acres and a mule. Who was goin' to give it to 'em? The Rebs? They didn't +give 'em nothin' but what they could put on their backs—I mean lashes.</p> + +<p>"Blount had stocks that he used to put them in. The stocks had hinges on +one side and latches on the other. The nigger would put his head in one +hole and his arms through the others, and the old man would eat on the +other end. Your feet would be stretched out and you would be layin' on +your belly.</p> + +<p>"Blount whipped me once because I wouldn't go to the cow barns to get +the milk to put in the coffee that morning. I didn't have time. They had +given me to Lela, and I had to take her to school. I was 'sponsible if +she was late. He had give me to Lela. Next morning with her, and we +didn't come back till Friday evening. She went down to her Aunt Leona +Harrison's and carried me with her. She was mad because they whipped me +when I belonged to her.</p> + +<p>"After slavery, we worked by the month on people's plantations. I did +that kind of work till after a while the white people got so they rented +the colored people land and selled them mules for their work. Then some +worked on shares and some rented and worked for theirselves. Right after +the war most of the farms were worked on shares. We were lucky to be +able to get to work by the month.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Schooling</b></p> + +<p>"I went to school in Natchaz, Mississippi. My teacher came from the +North, I suppose. But those I had in Rodney, I know they come from the +North. Miss Mary—that's all the name I knowed—and Miss Emma were my +teachers in Rodney. They come from Chicago; I never went to school here. +I didn't get no farther than the second grade. I stopped school to go +work when the teacher went back to Chicago. After that I went to work in +the field and made me a living. I hadn't done but a little work in the +field helping pa now and then before that.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Marriages</b></p> + +<p>"I married a long time ago in Rodney. Lord, it's been so long ago I +couldn't tell you when. I been married four times. They all quit me for +other men. I didn't quit none of them.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Present Condition</b></p> + +<p>"I get along tolerably now for an old man. The welfare gives me a little +help. But I have to pay five dollars for these two rooms every month. +What's more, I got to eat, and I got to have somethin' to wear. +Washington won't allow me nothin' for my army service. They say I wasn't +regular. I gets eight dollars from the Welfare.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> + +<p>"The young people's terrible. They rather go to the penitentiary or the +county farm or get killed than to do what is right.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Voting and Vocational Experiences</b></p> + +<p>"I used to vote. I never had no trouble about it.</p> + +<p>"They tried to whip me once since freedom, but not about votin'. A man +tried to whip me down in Stoneville because another man give me a drink. +He tried to cut me with his knife. I knocked him down. I told him I +could kill him, but I just didn't want to. While I was swearing out a +warrant to get him arrested, he went and got a gun somewheres. He came +right on in with his pistol and struck me with it. I knocked him down +again, and he was dead for twenty-five minutes. They didn't have to go +nowheres to serve the warrant on him. Nobody did anything to me about +it.</p> + +<p>"I come to Little Rock fifty years ago or more. I farmed as long as I +was able. Doctor stopped me when I began to fall out.</p> + +<p>"I cooked for Dr. Stone and his wife for ten years in Greenville, +Mississippi. Then I come to Pine Bluff on a vacation. The next time they +give me a vacation, I stayed away for eleven years. I went to get some +money Dr. Stone owed me for some work I had done for him once and he +wanted me to come back and cook again. I didn't do that and he died +without paying me for the work. He said it was his brother that owed me. +But it was him that hired me. I 'tended to some mules for nine months at +four dollars a week. I never got but one four dollars. The miles +belonged to him and his brother both, but it was him that hired me. It +wasn't Captain Stone, his brother. It was him, and I looked to the man +that hired me for my money. I didn't have nothing to do with nobody but +him. It was him promised to pay me."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> + +<p>Throughout his story Tims carefully avoided using his first name. Never +at any time did he let it slip.</p> + +<p>The capture of New Orleans was effected in 1862. If the troop with which +he worked took part in the capture, he must have been twelve years old +by 1862, and his age must be at least eighty-eight. But this would be +inconsistent with his statement that he served Sergeant Josephus for two +years and a half. The detachment might have gone to New Orleans later +than '62. At any rate, Tims is at least eighty-five, and possibly older. +Here again we have a definite conviction of the use of the word Ku Klux +before the War. The way he talks of it, the term might have been a +colloquial term applied to a jayhawker or a patroller. He doesn't mean +Ku Klux Klan when he says Ku Klux.</p> + +<p>The Lincoln story is included on my part merely because it is at least +legendary material. I don't know what basis of fact it could or might +have.</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="TravisHannah"></a> +Interviewer: S.S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Hannah Travis,<br> + 3219 W. Sixteenth,<br> + Little Rock, Ark.<br> +Age: 75<br> +Occupation: Housewife</h3> +<br> + +<p>"The Jay Hawkers would travel at night. When they came to a cabin, they +would go in and tell them that owned it they wanted something to eat and +to get it ready quick. They stopped at one place and went in and ordered +their dinner. They et the supper and went away and got sick after they +left. They got up the next morning and examined the road and the horse +tracks and went on. They all thought something had been given to them, +but I don't guess there was. They caught my mother and brought her here +and sold her. If they caught a nigger, they would carry him off and sell +him. That's how my mother came to Arkansas.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what year I was born in. I know the month and the day. It +was February tenth. I have kinder kept up with my age. As near as I can +figure, I am seventy-three years old. I was 18 in 1884 when I married. I +must have been born about 1864, I was brought up under my step father; +he was a very mean man. When he took a notion to he'd whip me and mother +both.</p> + +<p>"My mother was born somewheres in Missouri, but whereabouts I don't +know. One of her masters was John Goodet. His wife was named Eva Goodet. +He was a very mean man and cruel, and his wife was too. My grandmother +belonged to another slaveholder and they would allow her to go to see my +mother. She was allowed to work and do things for which she was given +old clothes and other little things. She would take em and bring em to +my mother. As soon as she had gone, they would take them things away +from my mother, and put em up in the attic and not allow her to wear +them. They would let the clothes rot and mildew before they'd let my +mother wear them. If my mother left a dish dirty—sometimes there would +be butter or flour or something in the dish that would need to be +soaked—they would wait till it was thoroughly soaked and then make her +drink the old dirty dish water. They'd whip her if she didn't drink it.</p> + +<p>"Her other master was named Harrison. He was tolerable but nothing to +bragg on.</p> + +<p>"After she was Jayhawked and brought down South, they sold her to John +Kelly, a man in Arkansas somewhere. She belonged to John Kelly and his +wife when freedom came. John Kelly and his wife kept her working for +them without pay for two years after she was free. They didn't pay her +anything at all. They hardly gave her anything to eat and wear. They +didn't tell her she was free. She saw colored people going and coming in +a way they wasn't used to, and then she heard her Mistress' youngest +daughter tell her mother, 'You ought to pay Hannah something now because +you know she is free as we are. And you ought to give her something to +eat and wear.' The mother said, 'You know I can't do that hard work; I'm +not used to it.' After hearing this my mother talked to the colored +people that would pass by and she learned for <u>shor</u> enough she was +free.</p> + +<p>"There was a colored man there that they were keeping too. One Sunday, +they were taking him to church and leaving my mother behind. She said to +them, 'Well, I will be gone when you come back, so you better leave Bill +here this morning.' Her old mistress said to her, 'Yes; and we'll come +after you and whip you every step of the way back.' But she went while +they were at church and they did not catch her either.</p> + +<p>"The Saturday before that she made me a dress out of the tail of an old +bonnet and a big red handkerchief. Made waist, sleeves and all out of +that old bonnet and handkerchief. She left right after they left for +church, and she dressed me up in my new dress. She put the dress on me +and went down the road. She didn't know which way to go. She didn't know +the way nor which direction to take. She walked and she walked and she +walked. Then she would step aside and listen and ask the way.</p> + +<p>"It was near night when she found a place to stay. The people out in the +yard saw her pass and called to her. It was the youngest daughter of +Mrs. Kelly, the one she had overheard telling her mother she ought to +set her free and pay her. She stayed with John Kelly's daughter two or +three days. I don't know what her name was, only she was a Kelly. Then +she got out among the colored people and got to working and got some +clothes for herself and me. From then on, she worked and taken care of +me.</p> + +<p>"From there she went to Pocahontas and worked and stayed there till I +was about fifteen years old. Meanwhile, she married in Pocahontas. Then +she moved to Newport. When I was fifteen, I married in Newport. My +mother supported herself by cooking and washing. Then she got a chance +to work on a small boat cooking and doing the boat washing, and there +would be weeks that some of the deck hands would have to help her +because they would have such a crowd of raftsmen. Sometimes there would +be twenty or thirty of them raftsmen—men who would cut the logs and +raft them to go and bring them down the river. Then the deck hands would +have to help her. I too would have to wash the dishes and help out.</p> + +<p>"I went to school in Pocahontas and met my future husband (Travis). I +brought many a waiter to serve when they had a crowd. I took Travis to +the boat and he was hired to wait on the men. When they had just the +crew—Captain, Clerk, Pilot, Engineer, Mate, and it seems there was +another one—I waited on the table myself. I help peel the potatoes and +turn the meat. When we had that big run, then Mr. Travis and some of the +others would come down and help me. The boat carried freight, cotton, +and nearly anything might neer that was shipped down to town. Pocahontas +was a big shipping place.</p> + +<p>"My mother said they used to jump over the broom stick and count that +married. The only amusement my mother had was work. I don't know if she +knowed there was such a thing as Christmas.</p> + +<p>"Mother's little house was a log cabin like all the other slaves had.</p> + +<p>"They didn't give her anything much to eat. They was farmers. They +raised their own cattle and hogs. The niggers did the same—that is, the +niggers raised everything and got a little to eat. They had one nigger +man that was around the house and others for the field. They didn't +allow the slaves to raise anything for themselves and they didn't give +them much.</p> + +<p>"The slaves made their own clothes and their own cloth. They would not +let the slaves have anything much. To keep them from being stark naked, +they'd give them a piece to wear.</p> + +<p>"Mama got to see her mother in 1885. When I married she left and went to +Missouri and found her sister and half-sister and her mother and brother +or cousin. She found her sister's oldest daughter. She was a baby laying +in the cradle when mama ran through the field to get away from a young +man that wanted to talk to her.</p> + +<p>"My grandmother was a full-blooded Indian. Her husband was a French +Negro. Nancy Cheatham was her name.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They bothered some people about a mile +from us. They took out the old man and whipped him. They made his wife +get up and dance and she was in a delicate state. They made her get out +of bed and dance, and after that they took her and whipped her and beat +her, and she was in a delicate state too.</p> + +<p>"There was a man there in Black Rock though that stopped them from +bothering anybody. He killed one of them. They went to the train. They +was raging around there then. He got off the train and they tried to +take him to jail. The jail was way out through the woods. He hadn't done +anything at all. They just took hold of him to take him to the jail +because he had just come into the town. They had tugged him down the +road and when they got to the woods, he took out his gun and killed one +of them, and the rest left him alone. The man who was killed had a wife +and four or five children. They sent the nigger to the penitentiary. He +stayed there about a year and come out. That broke up the Ku Klux around +Black Rock and Portia. They never seemed to get much enjoyment out of it +after that.</p> + +<p>"I heard from different ones' talk that a big hogshead full of money was +given to the Negroes by the Queen, but they never did get it. I think +they said the queen sent that money. I reckon it was Queen Victoria, but +I don't know. But the white folks got it and kept it for themselves.</p> + +<p>"Didn't nobody have any rights then. They would just put em up on a +block and auction them off. The one that give the most he would take em. +Didn't nobody have no schooling only white folks. The white children +would go to school but they didn't allow her to go.</p> + +<p>"Once there was a slave woman. They worked her day and night. She had a +little log cabin of her own. The spirit used to come to her at night and +tell her if she would follow them she wouldn't have to work all the rest +of her life. At first she was scared. But finally, she got used to them +and she listened to them. She got directions from them and followed +them. She went up into the loft and found a whole lot of money hid +there. She took it and built her a new house and used it. I heard my +grandmother tell this. That was my step-grandmother named Dilsey.</p> + +<p>"One of my bosses had a lot of money and he hid it in a cave. They tried +to find it and to make my mother tell where it was hid, but she didn't +know and couldn't tell. They came back several times and tried to find +him at home but they couldn't catch him. That was in Missouri before +freedom came.</p> + +<p>"I hate my father. He was white. I never did have no use for him. I +never seen him because Mama was jayhawked from the place. I never heard +my mother say much about him either, except that he was red-headed. He +was my mother's master. My mother was just forced. I hate him."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TrotterMarcC"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mark C. Trotter, Edmondson, Arkansas<br> +Age: 71</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My owners was Miss Betty and Mr. Luke Trotter. I was born in Tunica +County, Mississippi. I farmed all my whole life. I did like it. One +thing they said about slavery, you couldn't get away. They had dogs and +you get away and have no place to go, nothing to eat. Travel was hard +through the rough wilderness. One owner would notify another about a +runaway. They would take him back or send him word to come get the +runaway. Some of 'em tried to stay in the woods. They said they never +tried to get away. I wasn't born till after freedom. They said they felt +sorry when somebody got beat but they couldn't help it. They had feeling +for their color.</p> + +<p>"I come to Arkansas in 1925. I jus' can make it. I'm sickly. I made my +part, three bales cotton, last year and prices was so low and provisions +so high it is all gone. I don't get no help from the Welfare.</p> + +<p>"I heard old folks set around the fire and spit and talk about them very +things but I got here too late to know well enough to tell it.</p> + +<p>"I recollect when seed was a scarce thing. We had to save all our seed. +The women would swap around. Folks had to raise their own stock.</p> + +<p>"The Ku Klux didn't bother us.</p> + +<p>"I voted here in town. I don't bother the polls no more. I don't own +nothing.</p> + +<p>"Times and folks both been changing all my life. Some things is better +and some people as good as they always been."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TubbsJames"></a> +<h3>El Dorado District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson (Colored)<br> +Subject: NEGRO FOLKLORE—Uncle James Tubbs<br> +Story:—Information</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Well ah wuz born second year after surrender. Some say dat makes me 72 +years old. Mah maw only had two boys. Ah am de baby. My pa wuz name +Manger Tubbs. I wuz a purty bad boy. When ah wuz one. Ah use ter hunt. +Use ter catch six and eight possums in one night. Ah use ter love ter +fish. Spunt er many a nite campin and fishin. An playin marbles wuz a +wonderful game in mah days yo knows. Fokes wuzen so wile den.</p> + +<p>"Ah recollect one night we went coon huntin and de boys wuz wanderin +roun and got lost. Some of de boys wuz wanderin roun tryin to git out +and couldn' so ah said: "Dar de seben star yo all jes wait and let me +fine de way out and dey say all right," "We gwina trus yo to fine out a +way out." Went on bout 200 yards and struck our fiel'. We crawled under +fence and went on, struck our coan (corn) fiel'. Den dey all reconcile +wha dey is and ah had a big laff. When ah wuz a boy ah use to drink a +little whiskey. Finally ah said that would be mah ruin. Aftah ah got +oldah ah jess decided ah'd quit. Ah nevah did do no hahm tho. Parents +didn't raise me ter drink, ah jes taken up the habit mahself. Ah use ter +steal Grandma's aigs, He! He! She use ter go ter church and tell us not +to bother anything and fore she got out er sight we'd done gone in de +hen house. We boys git dem eggs and git on out in our play thicket and +roast em and eat em and you know grandma found out where we roast dem +aigs at, and whooe if she didn' whup us. He! He! You know the wurst race +ah evah had in mah life ah wuz comin on fum Spearsville and two coach +whipper wuz layin side de road and you know dem things run me ooo-eee +till ah got tuh a stream and you know ifn hit had not bee fer dat watah +dem things woulder caught me.</p> + +<p>"Coase mah grandma and me had had some putty good races. She tryin' ter +cotch me but ah loves her terday fer dose races we had. Mah ma died when +ah wuz one munt ole. Mah pa married agin and mah step-ma wuz mean to me +so mah grandma come an got me and raised me. Ah hant nevah been in jail. +Haint nevah been rested er nothin. Ah wish the chilluns of terday wuz +like dey wuz when ah wuz a boy. We lived in er two room log house. Our +house had a double chimney and we cooked on dat. You know we'd put a big +back stick uv wood on. Mah pa loved his big back sticks of wood to hold +the fire. Wudden no stoves at that time. We cooked on chimney fires. We +et ash cakes. Hit sho wuz good too. Granma say ash cake wuz healthy. Ah +bleve fokes ought ter eat a few of dem now. We had a putty good school +house made outn logs. Ah stop school when ah wuz in the third grade. Ah +learnt purty fair. We uster have ter take rocks an beat corn ter make +meal. We wud have ter go sometime fifty mile to git ter a griss mill. An +when we couldn't git coan mashed inter meal we wud make hominy and hit +sho wuz good too.</p> + +<p>"Ah use ter card fer granma while she wuz spinnin. We made our socks, +gloves, and thread. We didn' have dat ter buy. When ah wuz a boy +everybody farmed and we had a plenty. Didn' have drouth in does days.</p> + +<p>"Any kine of lan' would produce. Ah use ter get a many lashin bout +pickin cotton. Ah couldn' pick until ah got dem lashins. Some fokes say +lashin don' help but ah clare dey do.</p> + +<p>"Ah use ter pick cotton and sing. Ah can recollect so well de song. Hit +went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +Me an' mah wife had a fallin out +She wanted me ter work on de railroad track +Etc. (See enclosed song) +</pre> + +<p>"Ah jes love ter talk bout when ah wuz a boy. We had a lop cabin fuh a +church house. In dem days on meetin' Sunday fokes would go ter church +and carry de chillun but now not neither the chillun nor dey ma's go +either.</p> + +<p>"Fokes would serve the Lord. Dey would git happy in de fiel' and fall +out choppin, choppin cotton. No sich times as hit wuz now. Aftah all er +mah youth and hardship and goodship the Lord called me ter preach and +when he called me ah answered. Ah wuz comin cross de fiel about 12 +er'clock. Ah tole him ah couldn' preach. Den ah heard a voice above mah +haid. Ah stopped and wondahed and pondered wid mahself knowin' de +condition uv mahself. Ah said, "Lord yo knows ah caint preach." Den ah +made a vow and ah stuck to hit but ah heard nother voice say, "Go and +preach" again. And ah heerd ah nother voice say "Yo go in de mawnin and +pray befo sunrise." Ah goes thar and gits on mah knees and tried ter +pray an ah heard dogs a barkin and chains rattlin an cats mewin and +everthing. Ah had heard ole fokes talk bout when yo go ter pray chains +and things would track yer tenshun. The same happen ter me. Ah want on +and ended mah prayer and yo know ah wuz a glad soul. Ah felt lak ah cud +go an then an do whut the Lawd said. Ah gone on an stahted preachin. Hit +seemed the church wuz so crowded wid so many local preachers ah couldn' +do whut de Lawd wanted me ter so ah ask the pastor ifn ah could run +prayer meetin and he said, "Why chile yes," and ah went on wid de prayer +meetin till ever'body quit his church and come to mah prayer meetin so +den he called mah han', got jealous and made me move mah prayer meetin. +So som good white fokes let me come ovah neah them and start a prayer +meetin so de people followed me and we built a church and hit is yet +dare terday."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<h3><a name="TuckerMandy"></a> +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mandy Tucker<br> + 1021 E. 11th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80?</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was here in slavery times but I don't know what year I was born. War? +I was in it!</p> + +<p>"I member old master and old mistis too. I member I didn't know nothin' +bout my mother and father cause it was night when they went to work and +night when they come in and we chilluns would be under the bed asleep.</p> + +<p>"I know the white folks had a kitchen full of we chilluns. We went over +to the kitchen to eat.</p> + +<p>"My mother belonged to the Cockrills and my father belonged to the +Armstrongs. They were cousins and their plantations joined.</p> + +<p>"I was large enough to know when they took my parents to Texas, but I +didn't know how serious it was till they was gone. I member peepin' +through the crack of the fence but I didn't know they was takin' em off.</p> + +<p>"They left me with the old doctor woman. She doctored both white and +colored. I stayed there till I was fourteen years old.</p> + +<p>"I know we had our meals off a big wooden tray but we had wooden spoons +to eat with.</p> + +<p>"I member when they was fightin' here at Pine Bluff. I was standin' at +the overseer's bell house waitin' for a doll dress a girl had promised +me and the guns was goin' just like pop guns. We didn't know what it was +to take off our shoes and clothes for six months. We was ready to run if +they broke in on us.</p> + +<p>"The Yankees had their headquarters at the big house near the river. All +this was in woods till I growed up. We used to have our picnic here.</p> + +<p>"I was standin' right at the post when they rung the bell in the bell +house when peace declared. I heered the old folks sayin, 'We is free, we +is free!'</p> + +<p>"I know before freedom they wouldn't let us burn a speck of light at +night. Had these little iron lamps. They'd twist wicks and put em in +tallow. I don't know whether it was beef or sheep tallow but they had +plenty of sheeps on the place.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Cockrill would have us come up to the big house every Sunday +mornin' and he'd give us a apple or a stick of candy. But them that was +big enough to work wouldn't get any. They worked on Sunday too—did the +washin' every Sunday evenin'.</p> + +<p>"Oh lord, they had a big plantation.</p> + +<p>"After the War I went to school some. We had white teachers from the +North. I didn't get to go much except on rainy days. Other times I had +to work. I got so I could read print but I can't read writin'. I used to +could but since I been sick seems like my mind just hops off.</p> + +<p>"After freedom my parents rented land and farmed. I stayed with the old +doctor woman till I was fourteen then I went to my parents.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was eighteen and had five chillun. When I worked for +my father he'd let us quit when we got tired and sit under the shade +bushes. But when I married I had to work harder than ever. My husband +was just a run-around. He'd put in a crop and then go and leave it. +Sometimes he was a constable. Finally he went off and took up with +another woman.</p> + +<p>"I been here in Arkansas all my life except eight months I lived in St. +Louis, but I didn't like it. When I was in St. Louis I know it started +to snow. I thought it was somebody pickin' geese. I said, 'What is +that?' and my granddaughter said, 'Gal, that's snow.'</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think of the younger generation. I think they is +just goin' out to nothin'. They say they are gettin' weaker and wiser +but I think they are weaker and foolish—they are not wise in the right +way. Some are very good to their parents and some are not.</p> + +<p>"Honey, I don't know how things is goin'—all I know is they is mighty +tight right now."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TurnerEmma"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Emma Turner<br> + 330 W. Sixth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery days. They never did tell me when I +was born but I was ten the seventh day of August the same year we was +freed.</p> + +<p>"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas. I was born in Georgia. I sent +there and got my license to show my age. I was twenty years old when I +married.</p> + +<p>"George Jones was my old master. But, Lawd, them folks is all dead now. +Old master and old missis, yes ma'am, all of 'em dead.</p> + +<p>"Fight 'round us? No, they didn't fight there but they come through +there. Yes ma'am, they come through there. Oh, chile, they got horses +and mules.</p> + +<p>"Used to give us the Confederate money. Wasn't no good though. They got +the silver and gold. Confederate money was white on one side and green +on the other. Yes'm, they was Yankees.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes'am, old master was good to us. He didn't never marry. My +grandmother was the cook.</p> + +<p>"My mother was born in Virginia. I heerd her talk of the Nat Turner +Rebellion but I never did see him.</p> + +<p>"Our folks stayed right on after freedom and hired by the month. And +hired us children for our victuals and clothes.</p> + +<p>"I stayed there till I was married. Then I come to Vicksburg, +Mississippi. Had nine children and all dead but two.</p> + +<p>"Me? Oh, I done washin' and ironin' mostly, cooked and most anything I +could get to do. I'm all worked down now though.</p> + +<p>"We emigrated from Georgia to Mississippi. All my children born there.</p> + +<p>"I 'member the soldiers had guns and we was scared of 'em. We looked for +'em to come up the road but they come out of the woods and was around us +right now. They didn't mind creeks or nothin', ridin' horseback or +walkin'. I know they said, 'We ain't gwine hurt you.'</p> + +<p>"Old master's mother and father was named Sally and Billy. 'Member 'em? +'Co'se I do—many times as I waited on that table. But they all dead +'fore I even thought about bein' grown.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes ma'am, we had a plenty to eat. That's the reason I misses it +now.</p> + +<p>"I went to school one year but I had to work so hard I done forgot +nearly everything I learned. I can read a little but my eyes ain't no +good.</p> + +<p>"Dem Ku Klux—you dassent be out after dark. You better not be out on +the street after dark. But Sunday night they didn't bother you when you +went to church.</p> + +<p>"I was raised up with two white girls and their mother didn't 'low us to +get out of the yard.</p> + +<p>"I used to pick peas and cotton. Yes ma'am, that was when we was with +the same old man, George Jones. I used to huddle (herd) cows for miles +and miles. My mother was the milk woman. I don't know how many she +milked but she milked a heap of 'em.</p> + +<p>"Used to climb up in trees and tear our clothes. Then they'd whip us. +Old master say, 'Don't you tell me no lie.' Then old Miss Sally would +get a stick and make out she gwine kill us, but she wouldn't touch us a +lick.</p> + +<p>"Younger generation? Now you done asked me too soon. I set here and look +at 'em. Sometimes I don't know what gwine come of 'em. When we was young +we didn't do nothin' like they doin' now. Why we dassent raise our +dresses. If we see a man comin' we pull down our skirts. Yes, Lawd."</p> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TurnerHenry"></a> +<h3>FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of interviewer: Watt McKinney<br> +Subject:<br> +Ex-Slave and Confederate Soldiers Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: "Uncle" Henry Turner (c)<br> +Place of residence: Turner, Phillips County, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Plantation hand<br> +Age: 93</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> + +<pre> +I'm gettin' old and feeble now and cannot walk no more +And I've laid the rusty-bladed hoe to rest. + +Ole marster and ole missus are sleeping side by side +And their spirits are a-roamin' with the blest. +</pre> + +<p>The above lines, had they been composed today, might well have been +written with reference to "Uncle" Henry Turner, ninety-three years of +age, of Turner, Arkansas, in Phillips County, and among the very few +remaining ex-slaves, especially of those who were old enough at the time +of their emancipation to have now a clear recollection of conditions, +customs, events, and life during those days long past immediately +proceeding and following the Civil War. "Uncle" Henry's eyes have now +grown dim and he totters slightly as, supported by his cane, he slowly +shuffles along the path over a short distance between the clean, +white-washed cabin where he lives with a daughter and the small, +combination store and post office, on the porch of which he is +accustomed to sit in an old cane-bottomed chair for a few hours each day +and the white folks in passing stop to speak a few words and to buy for +him candy, cold drinks, and tobacco.</p> + +<p>Though "Uncle" Henry is approaching the century mark in age, his mind is +remarkably clear and his recollection is unusually keen. He was born a +slave in northern Mississippi near the small towns of Red Banks and +Byhalia, was the property of his owner. Edmond Turner, and was brought +to Phillips County by "his white folks" some months before the war. +Turner, who owned some fifty other slaves besides Henry, settled with +his family on a large acreage of land that he had purchased about +fifteen miles west of Helena near Trenton. Both Turner and his wife died +soon after taking up residence in Arkansas leaving their estate to their +two sons, Bart and Nat, who were by that time grown young men, and being +very capable and industrious soon developed their property into one of +the most valuable plantations in the County.</p> + +<p>As "Uncle" Henry recalls, the Turner place was, it might be said, a +world within itself, in the confines of which was produced practically +everything essential in the life of its inhabitants and the proper and +successful conduct of its operations. Large herds of cattle, hogs, +sheep, and goats provided a bountiful supply of both fresh and salt +meats and fats. Cotton and wool was carded, spun and woven into cloth +for clothes, fast colored dyes were made by boiling different kinds of +roots and barks, various colored berries were also used for this +purpose. Medicine was prepared from roots, herbs, flowers, and leaves. +Stake and rider fences enclosed the fields and pastures and while most +of the houses, barns and cribs were constructed of logs, some lumber was +manufactured in crude sawmills in which was used what was known as a +"slash saw". This was something like the crosscut saws of today and was +operated by a crank that gave the saw an alternating up and down motion. +Wheat was ground into flour and corn into meal in mills with stone burrs +similar to those used in the rural districts today, and power for this +operation was obtained through the use of a treadmill that was given its +motion by horses or mules walking on an inclined, endless belt +constructed of heavy wooden slats.</p> + +<p>Candles for lighting purposes were made of animal fats combined with +beeswax. Plows, harrows and cultivating implements were made on the +plantation by those Negroes who had been trained in carpentry and +blacksmithing. Plows for breaking the land were sometimes constructed +with a metal point and a wooden moldboard and harrows made of heavy +timbers with large, sharpened wooden pegs for teeth. Hats of straw and +corn shucks were woven by hand.</p> + +<p>Small, crude cotton gins were powered by horses or mules hitched to a +beam fastened to an upright shaft around which they traveled in a circle +and to which was attached large cogwheels that multiplied the animal's +power enormously and transmitted it by means of belt to the separating +machinery where the lint was torn from the seed. No metal ties were +available during this period and ropes of cotton were used to bind the +bales of lint. About three bales was the daily capacity of a +horse-powered plantation gin.</p> + +<p>It was often difficult to obtain the services of a competent doctor and +except in cases of serious illness home remedies were administered.</p> + +<p>Churches were established in different communities throughout the County +and the Negro slaves were allowed the privilege of attending the +services, certain pews being set apart for them, and the same minister +that attended the spiritual needs of the master and his family rendered +like assistant to his slaves.</p> + +<p>No undertaking establishments existed here at this time and on the death +of a person burial was made in crude caskets built of rough cypress +planks unless the deceased was a member of a family financially able to +afford the expensive metal caskets that were available no nearer than +Memphis. "Uncle" Henry Turner recalls the death of Dan Wilborn's little +six-year-old boy, Abby, who was accidentally killed when crushed by a +heavy gate on which he was playing, and his burial in what "Uncle" Henry +described as a casket made of the same material as an old-fashioned door +knob; and while I have no other authority than this on the subject, it +is possible that in that day caskets were made of some vitrified +substance, perhaps clay, and resembling the present day tile.</p> + +<p>The planters and slaveowners of this period obtained the greater share +of their recreation in attendance at political rallies, horse races, and +cock fights. Jobe Dean and Gus Abington who came to Trenton from their +home near La Grange, Tennessee were responsible for the popularity of +these sports in Phillips County and it was they who promoted the most +spectacular of these sporting events and in which large sums of money +were wagered on the horses and the game cocks. It is said that Marve +Carruth once owned an Irish Grey Cock on which he bet and won more than +five thousand dollars one afternoon at Trenton.</p> + +<p>No Negro slave was allowed to go beyond the confines of his owner's +plantation without written permission. This was described by "Uncle" +Henry Turner as a "pass"; and on this "pass" was written the name of the +Negro, the place he was permitted to visit, and the time beyond which he +must not fail to return. It seems that numbers of men were employed by +the County or perhaps by the slaveowners themselves whose duty it was to +patrol the community and be on constant watch for such Negroes who +attempted to escape their bondage or overstayed the time limit noted on +their "pass". Such men were known then as "Paddy Rolls" by the Negroes +and in the Southern states are still referred to by this name. +Punishment was often administered by them, and the very mention of the +name was sufficient to cause stark terror and fear in the hearts of +fugitive slaves.</p> + +<p>At some time during that period when slavery was a legal institution in +this country, the following verse was composed by some unknown author +and set to a tune that some of the older darkies can yet sing:</p> + +<pre> +Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you +Run nigger run, it's almost day. +That nigger run, that nigger flew +That nigger tore his shirt into. +Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you +Run nigger run, it's almost day. +</pre> + +<p>Both Bart Turner and his brother Nat enlisted in the services of the +Confederacy. Nat Turner was a member of the First Arkansas Volunteers, a +regiment organized at Helena and of which Patrick R. Cleburne was +colonel. Dick Berry and Milt Wiseman, friends and neighbors of the +Turners, also volunteered and enlisted in Cleburne's command. These +three stalwart young men from Phillips County followed Cleburne and +fought under his battle flag on those bloody fields at Shiloh, +Murfreesboro, Ringgold gap, and Atlanta; and they were with him that day +in November in front of the old gin house at Franklin as the regiment +formed for another and what was to be their last charge. The dead lay in +heaps in front of them and almost filled the ditch around the +breastworks, but the command though terribly cut to pieces was forming +as cooly as if on dress parade. Above them floated a peculiar flag, a +field of deep blue on which was a crescent moon and stars. It was +Cleburne's battle flag and well the enemy knew it; they had seen it so +often before. "I tip my hat to that flag" said the Federal General +Sherman years after the war. "Whenever my men saw it they knew it meant +fight." As the regiment rushed on the Federal breastworks a gray clad +figure on a chestnut horse rode across the front of the moving column +and toward the enemy's guns. The horse went down within fifty yards of +the breastworks. The rider arose, waved his sword, and led his men on +foot to the very ramparts. Then he staggered and fell, pierced with a +dozen balls. It was Cleburne, the peerless field-marshal of Confederate +brigade commanders. The Southern cause suffered a crushing defeat at +Franklin and the casualty list recorded the names of Nat Turner, Dick +Berry, and Milt Wiseman, who like their beloved commander had given +their life for their country. There is an inscription on the stone base +of the magnificent bronze statue of General N. B. Forrest astride his +war horse in Forrest Park in Memphis that could well be placed above the +graves of Cleburne, Turner, Berry, and Wiseman, those brave, heroic +soldiers from Phillips County. The inscription in verse is as follows:</p> +<pre> +Those hoof beats die not on fame's crimson sod +But will live on in song and in story. +He fought like a Trojan and struck like a god +His dust is our ashes of glory. +</pre> + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="TuttleSeabe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Zillah Cross Peel<br> +Information given by: Seabe Tuttle<br> +Residence: Washington County, seven miles east of Fayetteville.</h3> +<br> + +<p>Seabe Tuttle who was born in slavery in 1859, belonged to James +Middleton Tuttle of Richland, which was about seven miles east of +Fayetteville.</p> + +<p>"I was just a baby when the war was but I do recollect a lot of things +that my ma told me about the War. Our folks all come from Tennessee. My +mother was named Esther, she belonged to Ole Man Tom Smith who gived her +to Miss Evaline, who was Mister Mid Tuttle's wife. The Tuttles and +Smiths lived joining farms."</p> + +<p>"You see, Mister Tuttle was a colonel in the Confederate army and when +he went off with the army he left all his slaves and stock in care of +Mr. Lafe Boone. Miss Mollie and Miss Nannie, and Miss Jim and another +daughter I disrecolect her her name, all went in carriages and wagons +down south following the Confederate army. They took my pa, Mark, and +other servants, my mother's sister, Americus and Barbary. They told them +they would bring them back home after the War. Then my mother and me and +the other darkies, men and women and children, followed them with the +cattle and horses and food. But us didn't get no further than Dardanelle +when the Federals captured us and took us back to the Federal garrison +at Ft. Smith, where they kept us six months. Yes'm they were good to us +there. We would get our food at the com'sary. But one day my ma and my +sister, Mandy, found a white man that said he would bring us back to +Fayetteville. No'm, I disremember his name."</p> + +<p>"We found us a cabin to live in here. Didn't have to pay rent then likes +they do now. We lived here but after a while my mother died. They had +two battles 'round here, the Battle of Prairie Grave and one was the +Battle of Pea Ridge, after we comed back but no soldiers bothered us. I +remember that back from where the Christian church is now, down to the +Town Branch, there was a whole lot of Federal soldiers staying, they +called it then Cato Branch, cause a man by the name of Cato owned all +that land."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I guess we had a purty good master and missus. We never did get +treated much rough."</p> + +<p>"After the War, Miss Evaline brought back all the colored people that +she took with her, but my father. He got married down there and didn't +come back for a long time. Then he did and died here. Two of Miss +Eveline's daughters married down there. They didn't have no boys 'tall, +just four girls."</p> + +<p>"When Peace was made the slaves all scattered. We none was givin' +nothin' for as I know. I worked on a farm for $13. a month and my board, +for a man down at Oxford's Bend, then I went down to Van Buren where I +worked as a porter in a hotel then I went to Morrilton and I married. We +come back here and I worked all the time as a carpenter. I worked for +Mister A.M. Byrnes. I helped build a lot of fine houses round here and I +helped put a roof on the Main Building at the University."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, I own my home down by the school, I can't make much money these +days. It kinda worries me. My folks all dead but three of my brothers +children. One of these is blind. He lives on the old home my mother had. +The county gives him a little food and a little money."</p> + +<p>"Yes'm, my white folks were all good to us. Purty good to us."</p> + +<p>"After Peace was made though, we all jes' scattered, somehow."</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: Arkansas Narratives +by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES: ARKANSAS *** + +***** This file should be named 11709-h.htm or 11709-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/0/11709/ + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced +from images provided by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Slave Narratives: Arkansas Narratives + Arkansas Narratives, Part 6 + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: March 25, 2004 [EBook #11709] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES: ARKANSAS *** + + + + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced +from images provided by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. + + + + + + + +[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note +[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note + + + + +SLAVE NARRATIVES + + +A Folk History of Slavery in the United States +From Interviews with Former Slaves + + +TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT +1936-1938 +ASSEMBLED BY +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS + + +WASHINGTON 1941 + + + + +VOLUME II + +ARKANSAS NARRATIVES + +PART 6 + + + + +Prepared by +the Federal Writers' Project of +the Works Progress Administration +for the State of Arkansas + + + +INFORMANTS + +Quinn, Doc + +Ralls, Henrietta +Rankins, Diana +Rassberry, Senia +Reaves, Clay +Reece, Jane +Reed, Frank +Reeves, James +Rhone, Shepherd +Richard, Dora +Ricks, Jim +Rigger, Charlie +Rigley, Ida +Ritchie, Milton +Rivers, Alice +Roberts, Rev. J. +Robertson (Robinson?), George +Robinson, Augustus +Robinson, Malindy +Robinson, Tom +Rogers, Isom +Rogers, Oscar James +Rogers, Will Ann +Rooks, William Henry +Ross, Amanda +Ross, Cat +Ross, Mattie +Rowland, Laura +Rucker, Landy +Ruffin, Martha +Ruffin, Thomas +Rumple, Casper +Russell, Henry +Rye, Katie + +Samuels, Bob +Sanderson, Emma +Scott, Mary +Scott, Mollie Hardy +Scott, Sam +Scroggins, Cora +Sexton, Sarah +Shaver, Roberta +Shaw, Mary +Shaw, Violet +Shelton, Frederick +Shelton, Laura +Shores, Mahalia +Simmons, Rosa +Sims, Fannie +Sims, Jerry +Sims, Victoria +Sims, Virginia +Singfield, Senya +Sloan, Peggy +Smallwood, Arzella +Smiley, Sarah +Smith, Andrew +Smith, Caroline +Smith, Caroline +Smith, Edmond +Smith, Emma Hulett +Smith, Ervin E. +Smith, Frances +Smith, Henrietta Evelina +Smith, Henry +Smith, J.L. +Smith, John H. +Snow, Charlie and Maggie +Solomon, Robert +Spikes, James +Stanford, Kittie +Stanhouse, Tom +Starnes, Isom +Steel, Hezekiah (Ky) +Stenhouse, Maggie +Stephens, Charlotte E. +Stevens, William J. +Stewart, Minnie Johnson +Stiggers, Liza +Stith, James Henry +Stout, Caroline +Street, Felix + +Tabon, Mary +Tanner, Liza Moore +Tatum, Fannie +Taylor, Anthony +Taylor, Lula +Taylor, Millie +Taylor, Sarah +Taylor, Warren +Teague, Sneed +Teel, Mary +Thermon, Wade +Thomas, Dicey +Thomas, Mandy +Thomas, Omelia +Thomas, Omelia +Thomas, Tanner +Thomas, Wester +Thompson, Annie [TR: Corrected from "Thomas"] +Thompson, Ellen Briggs +Thompson, Hattie +Thompson, Mamie +Thompson, Mike +Thornton, Laura +Tidwell, Emma (Bama?) +Tillman, Joe +Tims, J.T. +Travis, Hannah +Trotter, Mark C. +Tubbs, James +Tucker, Mandy +Turner, Emma +Turner, Henry +Tuttle, Seabe + + + + +Texarkana District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland +Subject: Social Customs--Reminiscences of an Ex-Slave +Subject: Foods + +This Information given by: Doc Quinn +Place of Residence: 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas +Occupation: None [TR: also reported as Ex-slave.] +Age: 93 [TR: also reported as 94.] +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +Several months ago, I called at 1217 Ash Street, Texarkana, Arkansas +where I had been informed a voluble old negro lived. An aged, +gray-haired, negro woman came to the door and informed me her father was +in the wood shed at the back of the house. Going around to the wood shed +I found him busily engaged in storing his winter supply of wood. When I +made known my mission he readily agreed to answer all my questions as +best he could. Seating himself on a block of wood, he told this almost +incredible story, along with lengthy discourses on politics, religion +and other current events: + +"I wuz born March 15, 1843, in Monroe County, Mississippi, near +Aberdeen, Mah Mahster wuz Colonel Ogburn, one ob de bigges' planters in +de state of Mississippi. Manys de time he raised so much cotton dat dem +big steamers just couldnt carry it all down to N'Awlins in one year. +But den along came de Civil War an' we didn't raise nothin' fo' several +years. Why? Becase most uf us jined the Confederate Army in Colonel +Ogburn's regiment as servants and bodyguards. An' let me tell yo' +somethin', whitefolks. Dere never wuz a war like dis war. Why I 'member +dat after de battle of Corinth, Miss., a five acre field was so thickly +covered wid de dead and wounded dat yo' couldn't touch de ground in +walkin' across it. And de onliest way to bury dem wuz to cut a deep +furrow wid a plow, lay de soldiers head to head, an' plow de dirt back +on dem." + +"About a year after de war started de Mahster got one ob dese A.W.O.L.'s +frum de Army so we could come to Miller County, where he bought de place +on Red River now known as de Adams Farm. + +"When we fust came here dis place, as well as de rest ob de Valley, wuz +just a big canebrake--nothin' lived in dere but bears, wolves, and +varmints. Why de Mahster would habe to round up de livestock each +afternoon, put dem in pens, and den put out guards all night to keep de +wolves and bears frum gettin' em. De folks didn't go gallivatin' round +nights like dey do now or de varmints would get them. But den we didn't +stay here but a few months until de Mahster's A.W.O.L. wuz up, so we had +to go back and jine de army. We fought in Mississippi Alabama, Georgia, +and South Carolina." + +"When de war ended de Mahster moved us to Miller County, but not on de +Adams farm. For de man whut used to own de farm said Uncle Sam hadn't +made any such money as wuz paid him for de farm, so he wanted his farm +back. Dat Confederate money wuzn't worth de paper it wuz printed on, so +de Mahster had to gib him back de farm. Poor Massa Ogburn--he didn't +live long after dat. He and his wife are buried side by side in Rondo +Cemetery." + +"Not long after de negroes wuz freed, I took 86 ob dem to de votin' +place at Homan and voted 'em all straight Democratic. On my way back +home dat evenin' five negroes jumped frum de bushes and stopped me. +Dey 'splained dat I wuz too 'fluential wid de negroes and proceeded to +string me up by de neck. I hollers as loud as I could, and Roy Nash and +Hugh Burton, de election officers, just happen to be comin' down de road +and hear me yell. Dey ran off de niggers and cut me down, but by dat +time I had passed out. It wuz several weeks befo' I got well, and I can +still feel dat rope 'round my neck. Iffen dey had known how to tie a +hangmans knot I wouldn't be here to tell you about it." + +"It wuzn't long after dis dat I jined Colonel' Baker's Gang for +'tection. 'Colonel' Baker wuz a great and brave man and did mo' fo de +white folks of dis country den any other man. Why iffen it hadn't been +fo' him de white folks couldn't hab lived in dis country, de negroes wuz +so mean. Dey wuz so mean dat dey tied heavy plow shoes aroun' de necks +ob two little white boys and threw dem in de lake. Yes suh. I wuz dere." + +"And another time I wuz wid a bunch of niggers when dey wuz plannin' on +killin a white man who wuz a friend ob mine. As soon as I could I slips +away and tips him off. When I got back one ob dem niggers looks at me +suspicious like and asks, "where yo been, nigger?" I wuz shakin' like a +leaf in a storm, but I says: "I ain't been nowhere--just went home to +get some cartridges to help kill dis white man." + +"Not long after I jined Colonel Baker's Gang, we wuz comin' frum Fulton +to Clipper through de Red River bottoms. De river wuz overflowin' an' as +we wuz crossin' a deep, swift slough, Colonel Baker and his horse got +tangled up in some grape vines. Colonel Baker yelled, and I turned my +mule around and cut all de grape vine loose wid my Bowie knife. Dere +ain't nothin' like a mule for swimmin'. Dey can swim circles aroun' any +horse. As long as he lived, Colonel Baker was always grateful to me fo' +savin' his life." + +"De Colonel hated de sight ob mean niggers. We would ride up to a negro +settlement, and tell de niggers we wuz organizing a colored militia to +catch Cullen Baker and his gang. Most ob de negroes would join, but some +ob dem had to be encouraged by Colonel Baker's big gun. De recruits +would be lined up in an open field fo' drilling. And dey sho wuz +drilled. Colonel Baker and his men would shoot them by the score. Dey +killed 53 at Homan, Arkansas, 86 at Rocky Comfort, (Foreman) Arkansas, 6 +near Ogden, Arkansas, 6 on de Temple place, 62 at Jefferson, Texas, 100 +in North Louisiana, 73 at Marshall, Texas, and several others." + +"All of de big planters wuz friendly to Cullen Baker. I have carried +supplies many times frum de big plantations--Hervey, Glass, and +others--to Cullen Baker. De Colonel always carried a big double-barrel +shotgun. It must have been de biggest shotgun in de world, not less den +a number eight size. He whipped 16 soldiers at Old Boston wid dis gun +one time." + +"I saw Colonel Baker killed. We had just arrived at his father-in-law's +house and I wuz in the horse lot, about 50 yards from de house, when Joe +Davis. Thomas Orr and some more men rode up." + +"De Colonel wuz standin' by de chimney an did not see dem come aroun' de +house. Dey killed him befo' he knew dey wuz aroun'. One ob de men asked +Mr. Foster, "Where at dat d--n nigger?" I ducked down and crawled in +under de rail fence and ran--I didn't stop 'til I wuz deep in the +Sulphur River bottoms. Every minute my heart seemed like it wuz goin' +to jump right out uv my mouth. I wuz the worst scared nigger that ever +lived." + +"I have lived many years since dat time. De times and ways of livin' +have changed. I 'member killing deer where the Texarkana National Bank +stands, way befo' Texarkana wuz even thought of. This place wuz one of +my favorite deer stands. Nix Creek used to be just full ob fish. What +used to be the best fishing hole aroun' here is now covered by the +Methodist Church (Negro), in East Texarkana. Dr. Weetten had a big +fine home out where Springlake Park is. He wuz killed when thrown by a +buckin' horse. All of de young people I knew den have been dead many +years." + + +Foods + +The question of eating special food on a particular day immediately +brings in mind Thanksgiving Day, when turkey becomes the universal dish. +Perhaps no other day in the year can be so designated, except among a +few religious orders when the eating of meat is strictly prohibited on +certain days. + +The belief that negroes are particularly addicted to eating pork is well +founded, as witness the sales of pork to colored people in most any meat +market. But who could imagine that cotton-seed was once the universal +food eaten in this vicinity by the colored people? That, according to +Doc Quinn, a former slave, and self-styled exmember of Cullen Baker's +Gang, was the custom before and shortly after the Civil War. + +The cotton-seed would be dumped into a hugh pot, and boiled for several +hours, the seed gradually rising to the top. The seed would then be +dipped off with a ladle. The next and final step would be to pour +corn-meal into the thick liquid, after which it was ready to be eaten. +Cotton-seed, it must be remembered, had little value at that time, +except as livestock feed. + +"Yes suh, Cap'n," the old negro went on to explain. "I has never eaten +anything whut tasted any better, or whut would stick to your ribs like +cotton-seed, and corn-meal cake. Rich? Why dey's nuthin dat is more +nutritious. You never saw a healthier or finer lookin' bunch of negroes +dan wuz on Colonel Harvey's place. + +"I 'member one time tho' when he changed us off cotton-seed, but we +didn't stay changed fo' long. No suh. Of all de grumblin' dem niggers +did, becase dey insides had got so used to dat cotton-seed and corn-meal +dey wouldn't be satisfied wid nothing else." + +"One mornin' when about forty of us niggers had reported sick, de +Mahster came down to de qua'ters. 'Whut ailin' ye' lazy neggers?' he +asked. Dem niggers los' about fifty pounds of weight apiece, and didn' +feel like doin' anything. 'Mahster,' I say. 'Iffen you'll have de wimmen +folks make us a pot full of dat cotton-seed and corn-meal, we'll be +ready to go to work.' And as long as I work fo' Colonel Harvey, one uv +de bes' men whut ever lived, we always had cotton-seed and corn-meal to +eat." + + + + +Texarkana District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Mrs. W.M. Ball +Subject: Anecdotes of an Aged Ex-Slave. +Subject: Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes. (Negro lore) +Story:--Information: + +Information given by: Doc Quinn +Place of Residence: 12th & Ash Sts., Texarkana, Ark. +Occupation: None (Ex-Slave) +Age: 92 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.] +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +"Mah young marster wuz Joe Ogburn. Me and him growed up togedder an' I +wuz his body guard durin' de wahr. Many's de day I'ze watched de smoke +ob battle clear away an' wait fo' de return ob mah marster. All de time +I felt we wuz born to win dat wahr, but God knowed bes' an' you know de +result. + +"Three years ago I went to Little Rook wid Mr. Fisher. Lac' all folks +whut goes to dis city, we wend our way to de Capitol to see de Governor. +Gov. Futtrell sittin' bac' in his great fine office, saw me and jined me +in conversation. De fus' question he axed me wuz 'whut party does yo' +'filiate wif?' I sez, 'de Democrat--de party whut's a frien' to de +nigger.' De Governor axed me how does I lac' dis life? I sez 'very well, +tho' things has changed since slavery days. Those wuz good ole days for +de black man; didn't hafter worry about nuthin'. Now, I sho' does mah +share ob worryin'. I worries from one meal to de odder, I worries about +whure I'ze gwine get some mo' clothes when dese wears out?' + +"I tole de Governor mah 'sperience wif de Republican Party durin' de +wahr. I been hung fo' times in mah life an' one ob de times by de +Republicans. Long time ago, Mr. Roy Nash an' Mr. Hugh Sutton wuz a +settin' ovah de ballot box on 'lection day, when I voted 80 Democrats. +Yas, suh; I jus' marches 'em in an' tells 'em how to cas' dey vote. Dat +night, on mah way home frum de votin', goin' down de lonely road, I wuz +stopped an' strung up to a tree by de neck. Dey 'splained dat I wuz too +'fluential wid de niggers. When I wuz hangin' dere I did some manful +howlin'. Dat howlin' sho brought de white folks. When dey see mah +distres' dey 'leased de rope an' I wuz saved. Dat is when I 'pealed to +Col. Baker for 'tection. He wuz mah frien' as long as he lib, and he wuz +a good frien' ob de South 'cause he saved lots ob white folks frum de +wrath ob de mean niggers." + +(Note: The Col. Baker referred to was Cullen Baker, the leader of a +ruthless gang of bushwhackers that operated in this section shortly +after the Civil War.) + +Doc Quinn tells a "ghost story" connected with the old church at Rondo, +built in 1861. + +"De Masonic Hall wuz built up ovah dis buildin' an' ever month dey had +dey meetin'. One night, when dey was 'sembled, two men wuz kilt. Dat +sho' did scatter dat lot ob Masons and frum dat time on de spirits ob +dese men roamed dis chu'ch. Sometime in de dead ob night, dat bell wud +ring loud an' clear, wakin' all de folks. Down dey wud come, clos' like, +to de chu'ch,--but scared to go closer. Mr. Bill Crabtree, a rich man +an' a man whut wuz scared too, offered anybody $100.00 to go inside dat +chu'ch an' stay one hour. Didn't nobody need dat $100.00 dat bad!" + +The old negro tells the following grave yard story: + +"One dark, drizzly night, de niggers wuz out in de woods shootin' craps. +I didn't hab no money to jine in de game. One nigger say, "Doc, effen +you go down to de cemetey' an' bring bac' one ob dem 'foot boa'ds' frum +one ob dem graves, we'll gib yo' a dollar." I ambles off to de cemete'y, +'cause I really needed dat money. I goes inside, walks careful like, not +wantin' to distu'b nuthin', an' finally de grave stone leapt up in front +ob me. I retches down to pick up de foot boa'd, an' lo! de black cats +wuz habin' a meetin' ovah dat grave an' dey objected to mah intrudin', +but I didn't pay 'em no mind; jus' fetched dat boa'd bac' to dem +niggers, an'--bless de Lawd,--dey gib me two dollars!" + + +Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes + +Some aged Negroes believe that many of the superstitious ideas that are +practiced by their race today had their origin in Africa. A practice +that was quite common in ante bellum days was for each member of the +family to extract all of their teeth, in the belief that in doing so the +family would never disagree. Fortunately, this and similar practices of +self mutilation have about become extinct. + +An old custom practiced to prevent the separation of a husband and wife +was to wrap a rabbit's forefoot, a piece of loadstone, and 9 hairs from +the top of the head in red flannel, and bury it under the front door +steps. + +As a preventitive against being tricked or hoo-dooed, punch a hole +through a dime, insert a string through the hole, and tie it around the +left ankle. + +To carry an axe or hoe into the house means bad luck. An itching nose +indicates some one is coming to see you, while an itching eye indicates +you will cry. + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Henrietta Ralls + 1711 Fluker St. + Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 88 + + +"Yes ma'am, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Mississippi, Lee +County, March 10, 1850. Come to Arkansas when I was ten years old. Had +to walk. My old master was Henry Ralls. Sometimes we jump up in the +wagon and he'd whip us out. + +"My old mistes name was Drunetta. She was good to us. We called her Miss +Netta. Old master was mean. He'd whip us. One day he come along and +picked up sand and throwed it in my eyes. He was a mean old devil. He +thought I was scared of him. Cose I was. That was before the war. + +"I recollect when the Yankees come. I knowed they was a'ridin'. White +folks made me hide things. I hid a barrel of wool once--put meal on +top. They'd a'took it ever bit if they could have found it. They wanted +chickens and milk. They'd take things they wanted--they would that. +Would a'taken ever bit of our wool if they could have found it. + +"They wouldn't talk to old mistes--just talk to me and ask where things +was. She didn't notice them and they didn't notice her. + +"I reckon the Lord intended for the Yankees to free the people. They was +fightin' to free the people. + +"I hear em say war is still goin' on in the world. + +"The owners was tryin' to hide the colored people. Our white folks took +some of us clear out in Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' em. Miss +Liza was Miss Netta's daughter and she was mean as her old daddy. She +said, 'Oh, yes, you little devils, you thought you was goin' to be free! +She had a good brother though. He wanted to swap a girl for me so I +could be back here with my mammy, but Miss Liza wouldn't turn me loose. +No sir, she wouldn't. + +"After freedom I hired out--cooked, milked cows and washed and ironed. + +"I went back to Mississippi and stayed with my father. Old Henry Ralls +sold my father fore we come to Arkansas. + +"I never been married. I could have married, but I didn't. I don't know +hardly why. + +"I been makin' my own livin' pretty much since I left my father. + +"Biggest majority of younger generation looks like they tryin' to get +a education and tryin' to make a livin' with their brain without usin' +their hands. But I'd rather use my hands--cose I would. + +"I went to school some after the war, but I had to pay for it. + +"I been disabled bout five or six years. Got to have somethin' to take +us away, I guess." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Diana Rankins, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 66 + + +"I was born at Arlington, Tennessee but when I was a chile the depot was +called With. My parents' name Sarah and Solomon Green. There was seven +girls and one boy of us. My sister died last year had two children old +as I was. I was the youngest chile. Folks mated younger than they do now +and seem like they had better times when there was a big family. + +"Adam Turnover in Charleston, South Carolina owned my papa. When he died +they sold him. He was one year and six months old when he was sold. + +"I think S.C. Bachelor, around Brownsville, Tennessee, owned mama first. +She said they put her upon the block and sold her and her mother was +crying. The man after he sold her ask her if she didn't want him to sell +her. She said she didn't care but said she knowed she was afraid to say +she cared cause she was crying. She never seen her mama no more. She was +carried off on a horse. She was a little girl then. General Hayes bought +her and he bought papa too. They played together. General Hayes made the +little boys run races so he could see who could run the fastest. + +"Papa said they picked him up and carried him off. He said they pressed +him into the breastworks of the war. He didn't want to go to war. Mr. +Hayes kept him hid out but they stole him and took him to fight. He come +home. He belong to Jack Hayes, General Hayes' son. They called him +Mr. Jack or Mr. Hayes when freedom come. Mr. Jack sent him to Como, +Mississippi to work and to Duncan, Arkansas to work his land. I was +fifteen years old when we come to Arkansas. Mr. Walker Hayes that was +president of the Commercial Appeal over at Memphis lost his land. We +been from place to place over Arkansas since then. Mr. Walker was +General Hayes' grandson. We worked field hands till then, we do anything +since. I nursed some for Mr. Charles Williams in Memphis. I have done +house work. I got two children. My son got one leg off. I live with him. +This little gran'boy is the most pleasure to us all. + +"The Ku Klux never did interfere with us. They never come to our house. +I have seen them. + +"When papa come from war it was all over. We knowed it was freedom. +Everybody was in a stir and talking and going somewhere. He had got +his fill of freedom in the war. He said turn us all out to freeze and +starve. He stayed with the Hayes till he died and mama died and all of +us scattered out when Mr. Walker Hayes lost his land. + +"Ladies used to be too fine to be voting. I'm too old now. My men-folks +said they voted. They come home and say how they voted all I know about +voting. + +"Walker Avenue in Memphis is named for Mr. Walker Hayes and Macremore +was named for him or by him one. + +"We never was give a thing at freedom but papa was buying a place from +his master and got in debt and sold it. I don't own a home. + +"I have high blood pressure and the Welfare gives me $8 a month. I'm not +able to work. When you been used to a good plenty it is mighty bad to +get mighty near helpless." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Senia Rassberry + 810 Catalpa Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +"Yes'm, I know what I hear em say. Well, in slavery times I helped make +the soldiers' clothes. + +"I was born on the old Jack Hall place on the Arkansas River in +Jefferson County. + +"I know I was 'leven years old when peace declared. I reckon I can +member fore the War started. I know I was bastin' them coats and pants. + +"My old master's name was Jack Hall and old mistress' name was +Priscilla. Oh, yes'm, they was good to me--just as good to me as they +could be. But ever' once in awhile they'd call me and say, 'Senia.' I'd +say, 'What you want?' They say, 'Wasn't you out there doin' so and so?' +I'd say, 'No.' They say, 'Now, you're tellin' a lie' and they'd whip me. + +"I was the house girl, me and my sister. My mammy was the cook. + +"Old master had two plantations. Sometimes he had a overseer and +sometimes he didn't. + +"Oh, they had plenty to eat, hog meat and cracklin' bread. Yes ma'am. I +loved that, I reckon. I et so much of it then I don't hardly ever want +it now. They had so much to eat. Blackberry cobbler? Oh Lawd. + +"How many brothers and sisters? Me? My dear, I don't know how many I had +but I heard my mother say that all the chillun she did have, that she +had 'leven chillun. + +"Our white folks took us to Texas durin' of the War. I think my old +master said we stayed there three years. My mother died there with a +congestive chill. + +"We come back here to Arkansas after freedom and I think my father +worked for Jack Hall three or four years. He wouldn't let him leave. He +raised my father and thought so much of him. He worked on the shares. + +"After freedom I went to school. I learnt to read and write but I +just wouldn't _do_ it. I learnt the other chillun though. I did +_that_. I was into ever'thing. I learnt them that what I could do. +Blue Back? Them's the very ones I studied. + +"In slavery times I had to rise as early as I could. Old master would +give me any little thing around the house that I wanted. They said he +was too old to go to war. Some of the hands run off but I didn't know +where they went to. + +"Some of the people was better off slaves than they was free. I don't +study bout things now but sometimes seems like all them things comes +before me. + +"I used to hear em talkin' bout old Jeff Davis. I didn't know what they +was talkin' bout but I heered em. + +"I was sixteen when I married and I had eleven chillun. All dead but +four. + +"Yes'm, I been treated good all my life by white and black. All of em +loved me seemed like. + +"I been livin' in Arkansas all my life. I never have worked in the +field. I always worked in the house. I always was a seamstress--made +pants for the men on the place. + +"After I come here to Pine Bluff I worked for the white folks. Used to +cook and wash and iron. Done a lot of work. I _did_ that. + +"I been blind 'leven years but I thank the Lord I been here that long. +Glory to Jesus! Oh, Lord have mercy! Glory, glory, glory to Jesus!" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Clay Reaves, (light mulatto, large man) + Palestine, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I will be eighty years old my next birthday. It will be July 6th. +Father was bought from Kentucky. I couldn't tell you about him. He +stayed on the Reaves place that year, the year of the surrender, and +left. He didn't live with mother ever again. I never did hear no reason. +He went on Joe Night's farm. He left me and a sister older but there was +one dead between us. Mother raised us. She stayed on with the Reaves two +years after he left. The last year she was there she hired to them. The +only thing she ever done before freedom was cook and weave. She had her +loom in the kitchen. It was a great big kitchen built off from the house +and a portico joined it to the house. I used to lay up under her loom. +It was warm there in winter time. I was the baby. I heard mother say +some things I remember well. + +"She said she was never sold. She said the Reaves said her children need +never worry, they would never be sold. We was Reaves from back yonder. +Mother's grandfather was a white man. She was a Reaves and her children +are mostly Reaves. She was light. Father was about, might be a little +darker than I am (mulatto). At times she worked in the field, but in +rush time. She wove all the clothes on the place. She worked at the loom +and I lay up under there all day long. Mother had three girls and five +boys. + +"Mr. Reaves, we called him master, had two boys in the army. He was a +real old man. He may have had more than two but I know there was two +gone off. The white folks lived in sight of the quarters. Their house +was a big house and painted white. I've been in there. I never seen no +grand parents of mine that I was allowed to claim kin with. + +"When I got up some size I was allowed to go see father. I went over to +see him sometimes. After freedom he went to where his brothers lived. +They wanted him to change his name from Reaves to Cox and he did. He +changed it from James Reaves to James Cox. But I couldn't tell you if +at one time they belong to Cox in Kentucky or if they belong to Cox in +Tennessee or if they took on a name they liked. + +"I kept my name Reaves. I am a Reaves from start to finish. I was raised +by mother and she was a Reaves. Her name was Olive Reaves. Her old +mistress' name was Charlotte Reaves, old master was Edmond Reaves. Now +the boys I come to know was John, Bob; girls, Mary and Jane. There was +older children. Mother was a sensible, obedient woman. Nobody ever +treated her very wrong. She was the only one ever chastised me. They +spoiled me. We got plenty plain rations. I never seen nobody married +till after the surrender. I seen one woman chastised. I wasn't close. I +never learned what it was about. Old Master Reaves was laying it on. + +"Mother moved to New Castle, Tennessee from Mr. Reaves' place. We +farmed--three of us. We had been living southeast of Boliver, Tennessee, +in Hardeman County. I think my kin folks are all dead. Father's other +children may be over in Tennessee now. Yes, I know them. Mother died +over at Palestine with me. She always lived with me. I married twice, +had one child by each wife. Both wives are dead and my children are +dead. + +"Mother said I had three older brothers went to the Civil War and never +come back home. She never heard from them after they went off. I don't +know but it was my understanding that they was to be soldiers. I don't +recollect them. + +"Mother got so she wasn't able to work in the field several years before +she died. She worked in the field long as she was able. She lived with +me all my whole life till she died. But I farmed. Some years we done +well and some years we jess could live. I farmed all my life but a few +years. I love farm life. It is independent living. I mean you are about +your own man out there. I work my garden out at my shop now. I make +baskets and bottom chairs at Palestine. A few years I kept Mrs. +Wilkerson's yard and garden. Her husband died and she moved off to +Memphis. They did live at Palestine. + +"I heard it said that Reaves said he could keep his own farm. The Ku +Klux never bothered us. I have heard a lot of things but I am telling +you what I know. I don't know nothing about the Civil War nor the Ku +Klux. I was most too small a boy at that time to know much. + +"I used to vote. Can't write my name. Don't fool with it. + +"I went to school on rainy days. I went a few other days. People used +to have to work. I always wanted to work. I piddle around all the time +working now. I went to colored teachers all together. I can read a +little. + +"I had a brother-in-law in Arkansas. I heard a lot of talk. I come on +a visit and stayed three months. I went back and moved here. I come to +this State--over at Palestine--March 11, 1883 on Sunday. I have a good +recollection, or I think I have for my age. I've lived a pretty sensible +life, worked hard but had good health. If I had another life to live now +I would go to the farm. I love farm life. + +"I chop wood, garden, go in the woods get my splints for baskets, +chairs. I live by myself. I eat out some with I call them kin. They are +my sister's children. I get some help, $10 and commodities. + +"When I did vote I voted Republican or I thought I did. But now if I did +vote, I might change up. Times have changed. + +"I don't know much about the young generation. I do talk with +them--some. They are coming up in a changed time. I wouldn't talk +against the colored race of people. Some of them work--are good. Some +don't. I think some will not work. Maybe they would. I come to know +mighty little about them--no more than I know about the white girls and +boys. I see them on the streets about as much as I ever see colored +folks anywhere." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Jane Reece + 819 W. Ninth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85 + + +"I know this--I'm 85. I was born in North Carolina. + +"Oh, yes'm, I 'member the War. + +"I'm three thousand miles from my home. + +"Old John Blue (Belew?) was my white folks. + +"I did have good white folks. Yes ma'am, I'll say that. Stayed there a +long time after we was sot free. They was good to us. + +"My mother was the mother of twelve chillun--she was a fast breeder. + +"I was the onliest girl and old missis was just wild about me. I had +good owners. I don't remember no hard treatment among 'em. + +"I 'member she used to have me runnin' from house to house totin' a +little note. That's the reason I had such a good time. Heap of times I +slept up at the big house with old missis. + +"I got a good memory. We was allowed to sing and pray. I know our white +folks was good that way. I'll say that for 'em. I won't go back on 'em. + +"Our folks stayed right on there a long time. + +"My father died three years after ever'thing had done got quiet and +peaceful. + +"I left my husband back there and come here to Arkansas with my mother. + +"The bigges' work I done--I used to be terrible 'bout cookin', washin' +and ironin', and field work. Ever'thing a man ever done I've done--cut +wood, cut down sprouts, barn brush--I've done ever'thing. + +"Oh yes, I went to school a whole lot. Got so I could read. Used to +write too, but all that done left me. + +"I'm gwine tell you the truth, lady. I don't know whether the folks is +better off free or not. They is better off in one way--they is free--but +this young race is the devil." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Frank Reed, + 1004 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was a little boy pickin' up chips and helpin' feed the hog in slavery +times for old master. Name was George Houston. That was in Alabama. + +"I reckon I do remember George Houston. As far as I know he was good to +us. I remember when he died. + +"Our people stayed right there after freedom. My mother was a Houston +till she married. + +"I reckon I do remember the paddyrollers. I remember the hounds runnin' +too. I never thought I would remember that no more. + +"They didn't get after me 'cause I was too little. It didn't last long +enough for 'em to get after me. + +"I'm sick and not able to help myself. I got run over by a wagon. + +"I'm livin' here with my daughter. Her husband is a preacher and they +got eight children, so you can imagine how much they can do for me. + +"One word of the white folks is worth a thousand of ours." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: James Reeves + 2419 W. Twentieth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 68 +Occupation: Preacher + + +"I was born in 1870 down in Ouachita County about fourteen miles south +of Camden going on toward El Dorado. They didn't have no railroad then. +I was a young man when they put the branch through. You see, I was born +five years after slavery, but I remember my mother, my grandmother, and +my great-grandmother. They taken me and talked to me freely and I know +everything they knew. + + +Great-Grandmother on Mother's Side + +"My great-grandmother belonged to the Goodmans. Her master was named +Bob Goodman. She lived to get one hundred thirteen years old. From the +children of the old master, I got the information concerning her age. +I looked it up after emancipation. One of old master's sons was named +Frank Goodman, and another was named Norphleet Goodman, and there was +another whose name I don't recall. + +"My grandmother, great-grandmother, was named Frankie Goodman. I wasn't +here in slavery time, but I knew her after emancipation. + + +Grandmother on Mother's Side + +"My grandmother was named Hannah Goodman. These were different Goodmans +but they were kin to these others. There was a large family of them. +I don't know the correct age of my grandmother but she was up in the +eighties when she died. + + +Mother + +"My mother was born a Goodman, but she married Reeves, my father. The +record of their marriage I ain't got. Back there, they didn't keep up +like you and I do, and we don't keep up like these younger folks do. +Near as I could get it, she lived to be about seventy-one years old. + + +Father + +"My father was named Adam Reeves. His master was named Rick Reeves. My +father was born in Union County about ten miles from El Dorado. You +might say north of El Dorado because he lived south of Camden. He lived +there all his life. I have known him to move out of Ouachita County into +Union, and from Union back to Ouachita. + + +Grandfather on Mother's Side + +"My grandfather on my mother's aide was Henry Goodman. His mistress was +a woman by the name of Lucy Goodman. She was the same woman who owned my +mother. There was a big family of them Goodmans. + +"His age--he lived to be about eighty years old. He died in Hot Spring +County. + + +Grandmother on Father's Side + +"My grandmother on my father's side was named Hetty. Her master was +named Sam Abbott. She lived right close to seventy-four or seventy-five +years. She been gone quite a while now. She used to live with papa. + + +Other Ancestors + +"I don't know so much about another of my ancestors. + + +Wife + +"My wife didn't have many people. She knows her mother, her mother's +mistress, and all. Her ma was named Martha Henson. That was her married +name. Her mistress' last name was Stribling. Martha Henson was a +well-treated slave. The Striblings lived in Rockport, Arkansas, but +their native home was Georgia. I don't know where the Striblings are +now. The old man died before the Civil War broke out. I guess they are +all dead and in torment. My wife's grandmother and grandfather on her +mother's side were gone so far back that neither she nor I know anything +about them. + + +Whippings + +"My great-grandmother on my mother's side was in Union County when I +knew anything of her--close to El Dorado. I was about twenty-two years +old when she died. She was tall and spare built, dark ginger cake color. +Coarse straight black hair that had begun to mingle with gray. She never +did get real gray, and her hair was never white. Even when she died, at +a hundred and thirteen years, her hair was mostly black mingled with +gray. + +"The overseer knocked her in the head in slavery times, and they had to +put a silver half-dollar in her head to hold her brains in. I have seen +the place myself. When I was a little fellow she used to let me feel the +place and she would say, 'That's where the overseer knocked granny in +the head, son. I got a half-dollar in there.' I would put her hair +aside--my but she had beautiful hair!--and look at the place. + +"My wife could tell you what my mother told her. She has seen the marks +on my mother's back and has asked, 'Mama, what's all these marks on your +back?' And mama would say, 'That's where I was whipped in slavery times, +daughter.' She never did like to tell the details. But the scars were +awful. + +"My grandmother was roughly treated and she had pretty near lost her +eyesight from the ill treatment. She got so before she died that she +could hardly see to go nowhere. I don't know what it was they done to +her that made her eyesight bad, but she insisted that it was due to bad +treatment in slavery time. + + +Patrollers + +"I have heard that the pateroles used to run the slaves if they didn't +have a pass from their mistress and master. The pateroles would run them +and catch them and whip them. + + +How Freedom Came + +"All my mother knew was that it got out that the Negroes were free. The +day before the old woman told them that they were free, my grandfather, +Henry Goodman who was a teamster, old mis' called him and told him to +tell all the darkies to come up to the house the next day. + +"Next morning, she said, 'Henry, you forgot what I told you. I want you +to call all the darkies up here this morning.' Henry had a voice like a +fog-horn. He started hollering. I wish I could holler the way he did, +but I got to consider the neighbors. He hollered. 'Tention, 'tention, +hey; Miss Lucy says she wants you all up to the big house this morning. +She's got somepin to tell you.' + +"They all come up to the yard before the house. When they got there, she +says to him--not to them; she wouldn't talk to them that morning; maybe +she was too full--'Henry, you all just as free now as I am. You can stay +here with Miss Lucy or you can go to work with whomsoever you will. You +don't belong to Miss Lucy no more.' + +"She had been sick for quite a bit, and she was just able to come to the +door and deliver that message. Three weeks after that time, they brought +her out of the house feet foremost and took her to the cemetery. The +news killed her dead. That's been seventy years ago, and they just now +picking up on it! + + +Slave Time Amusements + +"The old people say they used to have breakdowns in slave +time--breakdown dances with fiddle and banjo music. Far after slavery, +they had them. The only other amusement worth speaking about was the +churches. Far as the churches was concerned, they had to steal out and +go to them. Old man Balm Whitlow can tell you all about the way they +held church. They would slip off in the woods and carry a gang of +darkies down, and the next morning old master would whip them for it. +Next Sunday they would do the same thing again and get another whipping. +And it went on like that every week. When old man Whitlow came out from +slavery, he continued to preach. But the darkies didn't have to steal +out then. He's dead now, him and the old lady both. + + +Houses + +"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them would be hewed and put +up well. I have seen lots of them. Sometimes they would dob the cracks +with mud and would have box planks floors, one by eight or one by ten, +rough lumber, not dressed. Set 'em as close together as they could but +then there would be cracks in them. I can carry you to some old log +houses down in Union County now if they haven't been torn down recently. + +"One old log house there used to be old lady Lucy Goodman's home. It +has four rooms. It has a hall running through it. It was built in slave +times. There is a spring about two hundred yards from it. That is about +ten or twelve feet deep. There is a big cypress tree trunk hollowed out +and sunk down in it to make a curbing. That cypress is about two or +three feet across. The old man, Henry Goodman, sunk that cypress down in +there in slavery time. He drove an ox team all the time. That is all the +work he done. She would tell all the overseers, 'Now, don't you fool +with Henry because we ain't never whipped him ourselves.' + +"I don't know who it is that is living now. It's been fifty years ago +since I was there. + + +Right After Freedom + +"Right after freedom, when the surrender came, my mother was just a girl +'bout fifteen or sixteen. She married after freedom. Her and her husband +farmed for a living--you know, sharecropped. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"The Ku Klux and the pateroles were the same thing, only the Klan was +more up to date. It's all set up with a hellish principle. It's old +Pharaoh exactly. + +"The Ku Klux Klan didn't have no particular effect on the Negro except +to scare him. + +"When the emancipation came about, the people of the South went to work +to see what they could do about it. The whole South was under martial +law. Some of the people formed the Ku Klux Klan to keep the Negro down. +I never remember that they bothered any of our family or the people in +our house. But they scared some and whipped more, and killed some. + + +Political Trouble about 1888 + +"The darkies and the white folks in Union County had an insurrection +over the polls about the year 1888. In them days, when you wanted to put +a Republican man in, you didn't have to do much campaigning. They +just went to the polls and put him in. Everybody that could vote was +Republican. In the fall of 1888 they had a great trouble down there, and +some of them got killed. They went around and commanded the Negroes not +to go to the polls the next day. Some of the Negroes would tell them, +'Well, I am going to the polls tomorrow if I have to crawl.' And then +some of them would say, 'I'd like to know how you goin' to vote.' The +nigger would ask right back, 'How you goin' to vote?' The white man +would say, 'I'm goin' to vote as I damn please.' Then the nigger would +say, 'I'm going to do the same thing.' That started the trouble. + +"On Sunday before the election on Monday, they went around through that +county in gangs. They shot some few of the Negroes. As the Negroes +didn't have no weapons to protect theirselves, they didn't have no +chance. In that way, quite a few of the Negroes disbanded their homes +and went into different counties and different portions of the state and +different states. Henry Goodman, my grandfather, came into Hot Spring +County in this way. + + +Opinions + +"Roosevelt has got himself in a predicament. They are drunk and don't +know what to do. The whole world is stirred up over why one-fourth of +the world should rule the other three-fourths. One-fourth of the world +is white. The Bible says a house divided can't stand. The people don't +know what to do. Look how they fight the Wage Hour Bill. Look at the +excitement they raised when it was first suggested that the Union and +Confederate veterans meet together. + +"We were savages when we came over here. Everything we got and +everything we know, good and bad, we got from the white folks. Don't +know how they can get impatient with us when everything we do they +learnt us. + +"Roosevelt has done more than any Democrat that has ever been in the +Chair. He had to do something to keep down a rebellion. Then we like to +had one as it is through the labor question. + +"The poor white man always has been in a tight [HW: place]. He was +almost as much oppressed as the Negro. + +"The young people of today ain't got no sense. They don't give no +thought to nothing. They don't know how to think at all. All the +schools and education they give don't make them think. If I had as much +education as they have, I would be able to accomplish something. The +teachers don't press down on them and make them know what they go over. +There is a whole lot of things happening now. + + +Old People in Pulaski County + +"Out in Pulaski County, going west out the Nineteenth Street Pike till +you strike the Saline County line, there are quite a few old colored +people. I guess you would find no leas than twenty-five or thirty out +that way. There is one old man named Junius Peterson out that way who +used to run a mill. If you find him, he is very old and has a good +memory. He is a mulatto. You could get out to him by going down till you +come to a place that is called the Henderson Lane. You turn to the right +and go off the pike less than a mile and you come to a big one-story +house settin' on a hill where Peterson lives. Right on beyond that about +three-fourths of a mile on the right side of the road, you come to +George Gregory's. The mother of my church is about eighty-one years old +but she is over in Saline County. Her name is Jane Joyner. + +"There are quite a few old persons around Woodson that can give you +information. But that is in Saline County, I think. Sweet Home, +Wrightsville, Toltec--all of them have a few old colored persons on the +farm that was here in slavery times." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Reeves' story was taken because of his clear memories of his parents +and grandparents. He described to me an old log house still standing in +Union County. + +I got all agog with excitement. I asked him for the exact location. He +gave it. Then I suggested that maybe he would go down with me sometime +to visit it. He agreed. Then at the last moment caution began to assert +itself, and I said, "When was the last time you saw the cabin?" + +He reflected a moment; then he said, "Waal, I guess it was a little more +'an fifty years ago." + +I lost my enthusiasm. + +Reeves told the Phill-la-me-york story which was told by Austin Pen +Parnell. You will find it in his story. The only difference between his +story and Parnell's is that Reeves had the conclusion. He claimed that +the old master got in a fight with one of the slaves present and yelled +out his identity when he was getting badly beaten. The story sounds +like it came from the Arkansas folklore collection or from someone who +contributed it to that collection. + +An aftermath of Reeves' story is finding out that most people consider +Henry Banner, whose story has been previously given and whose age was +given as eighty-nine, is considered by many persons to be ninety-four. + +Neely, one of the adult school-teachers, says that he has gone over +Banner's life carefully with him, and that he must have been twenty-one +or twenty-two at the close of the War because during slavery, he had +experience at logging, or rather at logrolling, a work so difficult that +only full-grown men were used at it. Since Banner is slightly built, +there is scarcely a possibility that he did such work before the normal +time. + +[HW: Cf. 30715 for interview with Parnell.] + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person Interviewed: Shepherd Rhone + 10th and Kentucky + Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 75 + + +"Yes ma'am, I was bred and born in 'sixty-three in Phillips County, +Arkansas, close to Helena, on old Judge Jones' plantation. Judge Jones, +he was a lawyer. Remember him? I ought to, he whiped me enough. His +wife's name was Caroline Jones. She used to smack my jaws and pull +my ears but she was a pretty good woman. The old judge was a raw one +though. You had to step around or he'd step around for you. + +"I stayed right there till I was grown. My mother was named Katie Rhone +and my father was named Daniel Rhone. My mother was born in Richmond, +Virginia and my father in Petersburg, Virginia. + +"Judge Jones brought em here to Arkansas. My father was a bodyguard for +old Judge Jones' son Tom in the War. My father stuck with him till peace +declared--had to do it. + +"They was thirteen of us chillun and they is all gone but me, and I'll +soon be gone. + +"I know when the Yankees come I run from em. When peace declared, the +Yankees come all through our house and took everything they could get +hold of to eat. + +"The only reason the Yankees whipped the South was they starved em. + +"I know one time when peace declared I caught afire and I run and jumped +in a tub of water and I had sense enough not to tell my mother. A girl I +was raised up with went and told her though. + +"After freedom I worked for old Judge Jones on the half system. He give +me everthing that was due me. When he was eighty years old, he called +all his old tenants up and give em a mule and twenty-five dollars. He +was pretty good to em after all. + +"I went to free school in the summertime after the crops was laid by, I +can read and write pretty good. + +"I came here to Jefferson County in 'eighty-six and I put in thirty-six +years at the Cotton Belt Shops. When that strike come on they told us +colored folks to quit and I never went back. I worked for em when she +was a narrow gauge. + +"I worked in the North three years. I nightwatched all over St. Louis +and Madison, Illinois. I liked it fine up there--white folks is more +familiar up there and seems like you can get favors. If I don't get +somethin' here, I'm goin' back up there. + +"When I got big enough I voted the Republican ticket and after they got +this primary. I think the colored people ought to vote now cause they +make em pay taxes. + +"I'll tell you right now, the younger generation is goin' to the dogs. +We'll never make a nation of em as long as they go out to these places +at night. They ought to be a law passed. When nine o'clock comes they +ought to be home in bed, but they is just gettin' started then. + +"I belong to the Catholic Church. I think it's a pretty good church. We +have a white priest and I'll tell you one thing thing--you can't get a +divorce and marry again and stay in the Catholic Church." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Dora Richard + 3301 W. 14th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"I was born in South Carolina and I was my mother's baby chile. + +"Jacob Foster was our old master and he sold my mother over in east +Tennessee. Now of cose she wasn't put upon the block and sold. She was +the house woman and spin and wove. After they sold her my father run +off. Oh sure, they caught him and I know old mistress said, 'Now, Jacob, +if you want to go where Lydia is, you can go.' So they sold him near +her. + +"I stayed with the Fosters till peace was declared and ever'thing was +declared free. Then my father come after me. + +"I can just sketch things. I try to forget it. My mother and father was +pretty agreeable when they was set free. + +"In Tennessee we stayed at the foot of Lookout Mountain and I can +remember seein' the cannon balls. + +"Here's the way I want to tell you. Some of the white people are as good +to the colored people as they could be and some of em are mean. My own +folks do so bad I'm ashamed of em. + +"So many of the colored of the South have emigrated to the North. I have +lived there and I don't know why I'm here now. + +"Some of my color don't like that about the Jim Crow Law, but I say if +they furnish us a nice comfortable coach I would rather be with my own +people. And I don't care to go to the white folks' church. + +"My mother used to tell me how they used to hide behind trees so the +boss man couldn't see em when they was prayin' and at night put out the +light and turn the pot down. + +"I went to school in Tennessee. I never will forget it. I had a white +teacher. He was in the War and he had a leg shot off. I went through the +sixth grade and was ready for the seventh Ray's Arithmetic. I walked +four miles there and four miles back--eight miles a day. + +"I can remember too when my mother and father was baptized. I know mama +come out of the water a shoutin'. Oh, that was good times then. I felt +better when I was under my mother cause when I married my life was over. +I raised about ten children. + +"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my sister's house lookin' for her +husband. I know I was in the bed and I raised up. I was scared you know. + +"When I hear some colored folks say they wish the old slavery times was +back, I just knows they is lazy. They don't want any responsibility." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Jim Ricks + 517 E. 22nd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in slavery times. I 'member runnin' from the Yankees when +they wanted to carry me off. Just devilin' me, you know. You know how +little chillun was 'bout white folks in them days. + +"I went to school three weeks and my daddy stopped me and put me to +work. + +"Old master was named Jimmie Ricks. They named me after him, I think. + +"My mother said he was a mighty good master. Didn't 'low his niggers +whipped. + +"Yes'm, I was born and raised in Arkansas, down here in Calhoun County. + +"I had a chance to learn but I was a rowdy. I wanted to hunt. I was a +mighty huntsman. + +"I was a good worker too. White folks was all stuck on me 'cause I was a +good worker. + +"I did farm work and then did public work after the crops was laid by. +But now I got too old to work. + +"I seen the Ku Klux once or twice when they was Ku Klukin' around. Some +of 'em would holler 'Kluk, kluk, kluk.' I was quite small, but I could +remember 'am 'cause I was scared of 'em. + +"I farmed all my life till year before last. I was a good farmer too. + +"I used to vote years ago. I voted Republican. Yes ma'am. + +"Younger generation ain't near like they was when I was young. I was +well thought of. Couldn't be out after sundown or they'd bump my head. +My stepfather would give me a flailin'. I thought he was mean to me but +I see now he done right by whippin' me. + +"I know in slavery times they got plenty of somethin' to eat. Old master +fed us well." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Charlie Rigger + R.F.D., three miles, Palestine, Arkansas +Age: 85 plus, doesn't know age + + +"I was born six miles from Mounticellar close to the line of Morgan and +Jasper County. Mother belong to the Smiths. Her father was part Creek +(Indian). They all was sold to Floyd Malone. His wife was Betsy Malone. +They had five children. + +"When I was a child I lay under the loom day after day picking up the +sickle. Ma was a cook and a weaver too. + +"Malone was a good man but his wife was one of 'em. She was a terrible +piece of humanity. Father was a farm hand. They had a gin, a shoe shop, +and a blacksmith shop all on Floyd Malone's place. I picked a little +cotton before 'mancipation. Floyd Malone had to buy my mother to git her +where my father was. + +"Some of the boys wore dresses till they was twelve or fifteen years +old. One fellar rode a mule or cow one the other to preaching. While +he sit talking to his gal at the window a steer cone up and et off his +dress tail. Boys got to courting before they got to take off their long +shirts. + +"They wasn't so good to mother. She run off several times. She went +'bout one and one-half miles to her mother on the Compton place. They +didn't whoop her. They promised her a whooping. They whooped her and me +too but I never knowed 'em to whoop my father. When they whoop my mother +I'd run off to place we lived and crawl under the house. + +"We chillun had nothing to do wid coffee. We drunk milk out little +bowls. We'd turn it up or lap it out which one could do the best. They +fed us. We'd ask for more till we got filled up. + +"I recollect the soldiers come by in July 1863 or 1864 and back in +December. I heard talk so long 'fore they got there I knowed who they +was. They took my oldest brother. He didn't want to go. We never heard +from him. He never come back. My white master hid out. He didn't go +to war. One son went and come back. It was the Yankees made my oldest +brother go. The first crowd in July swapped their wore-out scrub stock +for our good stock. That second crowd cleaned them out, took our hogs. +Miss Betty had died 'fore they come in July. That second crowd come in +December. They cleaned out everything to eat and wear. They set the +house 'fire several times with paper and coal oil (kerosene). It went +out every time. One told the captain. He come up behind. It went out +every time. He said, 'Let's move on.' They left it clean and bare. We +didn't like them. We had meat hid in the cellar. We got hungry that +spring sure as you born. + +"The old man married pretty soon after freedom. He married young to what +he was. + +"I didn't find much fault to slavery 'cepting the abuse. We et three +times a day and now if I get one piece I do well. Mother cooked, washed, +ironed and spun four cuts a day. We all et at the master's kitchen three +times a day. We had thirty-two families. I've heard that ag'in time and +ag'in so as I recollect it till now. We didn't have to work no harder +'en we do now if you have a living. + +"Master waited till all there. He had a horn made sorter like a bugle +for that business. Called us to our meals. We stayed a year. Went to his +brother's one year, then to Major Lane's big farm. We had to work about +the same as b'fore freedom. Not much change. + +"The Ku Klux come 'round right smart. Some had on skin coverings, cow +heads and horns. Some wore white sheets and black dresses on white +horses. They was scary looking. They would whoop and kill too. I was too +scared to get caught off at night. + +"Mother died. I was traveling about. I spent thirteen months in +Mississippi. Three winters right in Memphis. I married in Mississippi. I +left two daughters in Georgia. My wife died. I come to Arkansas in 1902. +I live all alone. + +"This present generation is traveling too fast. It-is-to-be. Fast +traveling and education. Times not good as it always have been b'fore +that last war (World War). When the white folks start jowing we black +folks suffers. It ain't a bit our fault. Education causes the black man +to see he is bit (cheated) but he better not say a word. It very good +thing if it is used right. Fast traveling is all right in its place. But +too many is traveling and they all want to be going. We got into pretty +fast time of it now. It-is-to-be and it's getting shoved on faster." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Ida Rigley, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was born in Richmond, Virginia. Colonel Radford and Emma Radford +owned my mother. They had a older girl, Emma and Betty and three boys. I +called her Miss Betty. + +"My mother was Sylvia Jones and she had five children. Bill Jones was my +father. He was a born free man and a blacksmith at Lynchburg, Virginia +in slavery times. + +"He asked Colonel Radford could he come to see my mama and marry her. +They had a wedding in Colonel Radford's dining room and a preacher on +the place married them. They told me. My father was a Presbyterian +preacher. I heard papa preach at Lynchburg. He had a white principle but +no white blood. I never knew him very much till long after freedom. + +"Miss Betty Radford was raising me for a house girl. I was younger +than her children. Mother was a weaver for all on the place. Old aunt +Caroline was the regular cook but my mother helped to cook for hands he +hired at busy seasons of the year. My sisters lived in the quarters and +mama slept with them. She helped them. They worked in the field some. +They was careful not to overwork young hands. They cooked down at the +quarters. They had a real old man and woman to set about and see after +the children and feed them. The older children looked after the babies. +When Miss Betty went off visiting she would send me down there. I did +love it. + +"Emma and Betty went to school at Richmond in a buggy. They had a +colored boy driver. He was the carriage driver. Emma and Betty would +play with me too. Miss Betty fed me all the time. She made me a bonnet +and I can't get shed of my bonnet yet. I got four bonnets now. + +"When the white folks had a wedding it lasted a week. They had a second +day dress and a third day dress and had suppers and dinner receptions +about among the kin folks. They had big chests full of quilts and +coverlets and counterpanes they been packing back. Some of them would +have big dances. A wedding would last a week, night and day. + +"They had a farm right. We had peacocks, white guinea and big black +turkeys, cows, sheep, goats, hogs; he had deer. He kept their horns cut +off and some of the cow's horns were off. We had a acre in a garden and +had roses and all kinds of flowers. I like flowers now. Tries to have +'em. They had a gin on the place. He raised corn, rye, cotton, and +tobacco. The hands got their supplies on Saturday. On rainy days all the +women would knit, white and colored both. Miss Betty knitted some at +night in winter. They had a shop to sharpen and keep all the tools in. A +particular old man made the brooms and rakes. + +"It seem like there wasn't so many flies. Miss Betty mixed up molasses +and flour and poison and killed flies sometimes. She spread it on brown +paper. We had fly weed tea to set about too sometimes. We didn't have +to use anything regular. We didn't have no screens. We had mighty few +mosquitoes. We had peafowl fly brushes. They was mighty pretty. + +"One thing we had was a deep walled well and an ice-house. They cut ice +in blocks and put it up for winter[HW:?]. We had one spring on the place +I know. + +"They kept hounds. Colonel Radford's boys and the colored boys all went +hunting. We had 'possum and potatoes all along in winter; 'possum grease +won't make you sick. Eat all you want. I'd hear their horn and the dogs. +They would come in hungry every time. I never seen no whiskey. He had +his cider and vinegar press and made wine. We had cider and wine all +along. Colonel Radford was his own overseer and Charlie his oldest boy. +They whooped mighty little. They would stand up and be whooped. Some of +the young ones was hard-headed and rude. He advised them and they minded +him pretty well. + +"Our yards was large and beautiful; some had grass and some clean spots +about in the shade. Friday was wash day. Saturday was iron day. Miss +Betty would go about in the quarters to see if the houses was scrubbed +every week after washing. They had to wear clean clothes and have clean +beds about her place. She'd shame them to death. + +"Colonel Radford had a colored church for us all. It was a log house and +he had a office for his boys to read and write and smoke cob pipes in. +The white folks' church was at the corner of his place. I went there +most. They shouted and pat their hands. Colonel Radford was a Baptist. + +"Nearly every farm had a fiddler. Ever so often he had a big dance in +their parlor. I'd try to dance by myself. He had his own music by the +hands on his place. He let them have dances at the quarters every now +and then. Dancing was a piece of his religion. + +"I don't think our everyday frocks was stiffened but our dress up +clothes was. It was made out of flour--boiled flour starch. We had +striped dresses and stockings too. We had checked dresses. We had +goobers and a chestnut grove. We had a huckleberry patch. We had maple +sugar to eat. It was good. We had popcorn and chinquapins in the fall +of the year, I used to pick up chips to use at the pot. I had a little +basket. I picked up corn cobs. They burnt them and made corn cob soda to +use in the bread and cakes. We parched peeled sweet potatoes slice thin +and made coffee. + +"The Civil War was terrible. One morning before we was all out of bed +the Yankees come. It was about daylight. He and the three boys were +there. They didn't burn any houses and they didn't hesitate but they +took everything. They took all Miss Betty's nice silverware. They took +fine quilts and feather beds. That was in the fall of the year. They +drove off a line of our slaves (a block long) fer as from me to that +railroad. Made them go. They walked fast in front of the cavalrymen. +They took mama and my sisters. She got away from them with her girls and +found her way back to papa at Lynchburg. + +"Colonel Radford went and took some of the slave men and his boys. They +brought home plenty beds and a barrel of salt. He brought back plenty. +He sent his slave man to town any time. They had no notion leaving. + +"One time some Yankees come. I run hid around Miss Betty's long dress. +She was crying. They was pulling her rings off her fingers. I told them +to quit that. One of the mean things said, 'Little nigger, I shoot your +head off.' They took all her nice clothes. They said they took all +niggers. I sassed them. They went in another room. I shot under Miss +Betty's big skirt. They looked about for me but they thought I run off +to my mama. She was gone but they didn't know it. I seen my best times +then. We had a good time there. Miss Betty was good and kind to me. Good +as I wanted. I wish I had that good now. + + +Freedom + +"The soldiers come and I knowed it was the Yankees I hated. They took +all they could find and wasted a lot of it. I was scared. I kept hid +about. The slaves put their beds and clothes up on the wagons and went +off behind them and some clumb up in the wagons. I heard Miss Betty say, +'They need not follow them off, they are already free.' The way she said +it, like she was heart broken, made me nearly cry and I remember her +very words till this day. She was a good woman. + +"Mama come and got me long time after that and I didn't want to go nor +stay neither. It was like taking me off from my own home. Papa was +freeborn and freedom I couldn't understand till I was long grown. I +never got a whooping in my life. I was taught politeness. + +"During slavery we bought mighty little. Flour in barrels, salt. We had +Maple sugar and sorghum molasses in bounty. We was happy and had plenty +to eat and wear. + +"I learned to make the fine cakes from a Jew woman (Jewess), Mrs. Isaac. +I've been called a cook here in Forrest City. I was taught by Mrs. Isaac +to make angel food, coffee cake, white bread and white cakes. From that +I made the other kinds my own self." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +People in Forrest City send for Ida and keep her a week or two baking +Christmas and wedding cakes. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Milton Ritchie + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born in Marietta Hotel at Marietta, Georgia. The hotel belong to +Milton Stevens. He had two sons. One died fo I was born and Pink was in +the war. Mistress Thursday was old moster's wife. We all had to refugee. +My sister was down in the bottoms with all the slaves and cattle when +she died. She took sick and died suddenly. They heard the soldiers was +coming to Atlanta and knowed they would come by Marietta. Moster Stevens +sold the hotel just at the beginning of the war. He moved to the +country. Mama cooked at the hotel and in the country both. The hotel was +a brick house on the railroad where they fed a lot of people every day. +Moster Milton used to take me bout where he went, rode me on his foot +when I was a baby. After they went to the farm every evening Mistress +Thursday come get me, take me to the house. She got bread and butter, +sugar, give it to me and I slept on a pallet in her room. I never did +know why she done that. Mama had a little house she slept in. She +cooked. They never whooped me. They never whooped mama. + +"One time the Federal army camped not a great ways from us. One time I +was playing in a gully--big red ditch. I spied the Federals coming. I +flew out the ditch up the hill and across the field. They was calvary +men camped back of our field. We all left that place and refugeed to +another place. They didn't burn the house but they sent two bullets +through the walls or that house. 'Old Granny' was too old to refugee. +She kept living by herself in a house on the place. They never bothered +her. She wasn't kin to us but Moster Milton owned her and kept her fed. +We raised sugar-cane, hogs, corn, and goobers. The sugar-cane had +no top. I got a whooping every Monday. Mama whoop me. We go drink +sugar-cane juice in the trough at the mill. We got up in there with our +feet. They had to wash out the troughs. It was a wood house. It was a +big mill. He sold that good syrup in Atlanta. It wasn't sorghum. The men +at the mill would scare us but we hid around. They come up to the house +and tell on us. + +"We had moved from the farm when they burned Atlanta. From the place +where Moster Milton refugeed I could hear a roaring all the time nearly, +sometimes clearer, and the roaring was broke sometimes. + +"Moster Milton ran the farm when he run the hotel cept I was born at +the hotel and Mistress Thursday lived there then too. He had all Negro +overseers. Each overseer had a certain lot of hands to do what he told +them. He didn't have no trouble. He told them if they made something for +them and him too it would be fine, if they didn't work they would have +to do without. They had plenty they said. + +"My mama was sold on the block in Virginia when she was twelve years +old. She and her little brother sold the same day. Moster Milton Stevens +bought her. The same man couldn't buy them both, didn't have money +enough. They had a little blanket and she and her brother cut it into +and put it around their shoulders. They been sleeping together and +Moster Milton brought her home on his horse up behind him. Her mama was +crying when she left her. She never heard nor seen none of her folks no +more she told me. (The old Negro cried.) + +"My mama and papa was dark but both was mixed. They never told me if it +was white or Indian. Papa was a tall, big bony man. Mama wasn't so big +and stouter. He never tried to get away from his owners. He belong to +Sam Ritchie five or six miles away. I never beard much about them. They +had Negro overseers. Papa was a foreman. He tanned the cow hides and +made shoes for all the hands on Ritchie's place. He made our shoes over +there too. They said Stevens and Ritchies didn't keep bad dogs. Mistress +Eliza Ritchie was a Stevens before she married. Papa never was sold. He +said they was good to them. Mama was named Eliza too and papa George +Ritchie. + +"When freedom was on papa went to Atlanta and got transportation to +Chattanooga. I don't know why. He met me and mama. She picked me up and +run away and met him. We went in a freight box. It had been a soldier's +home--great big house. We et on the first story out of tin pans. We had +white beans or peas, crackers and coffee. Meat and wheat and cornbread +we never smelt at that place. Somebody ask him how we got there and he +showed them a ticket from the Freedmans bureau in Atlanta. He showed +that on the train every now and then. Upstairs they brought out a stack +of wool blankets and started the rows of beds. Each man took his three +as he was numbered. Every night the same one got his own blankets. The +room was full of beds and white guards with a gun over his shoulder +guarded them all night long. We stayed there a long time--nearly a year. +They tried to get jobs fast as they could and push em out but it was +slow work. Mama got a place to cook at--Mrs. Crutchfield's. She run a +hotel in town but lived in the country. We stayed there about a year. +Papa was hired somewhere else there. + +"Papa got us on a farm in middle Tennessee after that. We come to Mr. +Hooper's place and share cropped one year, then we went to share crop +for Wells Brothers close to Murfreesboro. I been on the farm all my life +since then. + +"The Ku Klux never pestered us. I heard about them. + +"The Welfare helps me and I would do work if I could get work I can do. +I could do light work. Times is hard. Hard to get a living. I don't mind +work. I couldn't do a day's work now. + +"The young generation is beyond me. I don't be about them much." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Alice Rivers + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 81 + + +"Yes'm, I remember when the Yankees come. I ricollect when they throwed +out all the meat from old master's smokehouse. The colored folks was +tryin' to ketch it and I know I tried to ketch it too. + +"Don't I look like I been here in Reb. time? I was born in Mississippi +on Colonel Reed's place in 1857. + +"I just know the Yankees come through. Had on blue coats with gold +lookin' buttons. I never will forget it 'cause it was so frightening. + +"I can ricollect way back there. + +"I don't know whether the white folks was good or not, we hardly ever +saw 'em. Had a old woman that cooked for the chillun at the quarters. +I ricollect they had a big old kittle and she'd cook that full of +somethin'. I know the old lady give us plenty of somethin' to eat. + +"All the white folks didn't treat their hands mean. Some of 'em was a +fool 'bout them little niggers. + +"Old woman what cooked for the chillun was old Aunt Henie and she walked +half bent with a stick. + +"I went to school some after freedom. Learned how to spell and read but +not much writin'. + +"I can't tell you 'bout no whippin's 'cause if they whipped the folks +they didn't do it at the quarters where the chillun was. + +"I been farmin' all my life till I come to Arkansas in 1916. Since then +I first cooked and washed. I ain't worked out in three years now. + +"I gets a little pension from the Welfare and I make out on that. My +granddaughter lives with me. She will finish high school in May and then +she can take care of herself. + +"I used to own this place but it was sold for taxes. Don't make any +difference if you is as old as Methuselah you got to pay them taxes. Old +Caeser started 'em and we've had to pay 'em ever since. + +"Younger generation ain't mannerly now like they was when I was young. +Chillun used to be obedient but they got to have their way now. Old +folks done put the chillun where they is now and they ought to take care +of 'em. + +"I don't know where the world gwine come to in the next five years. I +reckon they'll all be dead way they're gwine now. Storms takin' 'em away +here and war in them other countries." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: J. Roberts, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 45 or 50 +Occupation: Methodist preacher + + +"My father was a Federal soldier in the Civil War. He was from Winston, +Virginia. He went to war and soon after the end he came to Holly Grove. +He was in Company "K". He signed up six or seven papers for men in his +company he knew and they all got their pensions. Oh yes! He knew them. +He was an awful exact honest man. He was a very young man when he went +into the war and never married till he come to Arkansas. He married a +slave woman. She was a field woman. They farmed. Father sat by the hour +and told how he endured the war. He never expected to come out alive +after a few months in the war. + +"John Roberts Collins was his owner in slavery. I never heard why he cut +off the Collins. I call my own self J. Roberts." + +"The present times are hard times. Sin hath caused it all. Machinery has +taken so much of the work." + +"The present generation are fair folks but wild. Yes, the young folks +today are wilder than my set was. I can't tell you how but I see it +every way I go." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: George Robertson? or George Robinson? + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 81 + + +"My papa named Abe Robertson. His owner named Tom Robertson. I was born +in middle Tennessee. My mama named Isabela Brooks. Her master named +Billy Brooks. His wife name Mary Brooks. My master boys come through +here six years ago wid a tent show. My papa went off wid the Yankees. +Last I seed of him he was in Memphis. They took my mama off when I was +a baby to Texas to keep the Yankees from gettin' her. My grandma raised +me. We stayed on the big plantation till 1880. + +"I don't want no Sociable Welfare help till I ain't able to work. I +don't want none now." + +(To be continued) [TR: no continuation found.] + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Augustus Robinson + 2500 W. Tenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born in Calhoun County, Arkansas in 1860, January 15th. I am +going according to what my daddy told me and nothing else. That is all I +could do. + + +How the Children Were Fed + +"My grandmother on my mother's side said when I was a little fellow that +she was a cook and that she would bring stuff up to the cabin where the +little niggers were locked up and feed them through the crack. She would +hide it underneath her apron. She wasn't supposed to do it. All the +little niggers were kept in one house when the old folks were working in +the field. There were six or seven of us. + + +Sold + +"My daddy was a white man, my master. His wife was so mean to me that my +master sold me to keep her from beating me and kicking me and knocking +me 'round. She would have killed me if she could have got the chance. He +[HW: My daddy] sold me to a preacher who raised me as though I were his +own son. Whenever he sat down to the table to eat, I sat down. He made +no difference at all. He raised me in El Dorado, Arkansas. His name was +James Goodwin. He sent me to school too. + + +Visited by Father + +"When Harrison and Cleveland ran for President, my [HW: white] father +came to Little Rock. Some colored people had been killed in the campaign +fights, and he had been summoned to Little Rock to make some statements +in connection with the trouble. He stopped at a prominent hotel and had +me to come to see him. When I went up to the hotel to meet him, there +were a dozen or more white men at that place. When I shook hands with +him, he said, 'Gentlemen, he's a little shady but he's my son.' His name +was Captain I.T. Robinson. He lived in Lisbon, Arkansas. + + +Mother + +"My mother's name was Frances Goodwin. She belonged to Captain Robinson. +I don't know but I think that when they came to Arkansas, they came from +Georgia. They were refugees. When the War started, people that owned +niggers ran from state to state to try to hold their niggers. + + +House + +"I lived right in the yard. We had four houses in the yard and three of +them was made of logs and one was made out of one-by-twelve planks. I +lived in the one made out of planks. It had one big room. I reckon it +was about twenty by fifteen, more than that, I reckon. It was a big +room. There [HW: were] two doors and no windows. We had old candlesticks +for lights. We had old homemade tables. All food was kept in the +smokehouse and the pantry. The food house and the smokehouse were two of +the log cabins in the yard. + + +Schooling + +"Goodwin schooled me. [TR: First sentence lined out.] He had a teacher +to come right on the place and stay there teaching. He raised me and +brought me up just as though I was his own child. + +"I remember getting one whipping. I didn't get it from Mr. Goodwin +though. His brother gave it to me. His brother sent me to get a horse. +An old hound was laying in the way on the saddle and the bridle. He +wouldn't move so I picked up the bridle and hit him with it. He hollered +and master's brother heard him and gave me a whipping. That is the only +whipping I ever got when I was small. + + +Ku Klux + +"I heard of the Ku Klux Klan but I don't know that I ever seen them. I +never noticed what effect they had on the colored people. I just heard +people talking about them. + + +Occupational Experiences + +"The first work I did was farming--after the War. I farmed,--down close +to El Dorado, about six miles away from there. I kept that up till I was +about seventeen or eighteen years old or somewheres about there. That +was on James Goodwin's place--my last master, the man who raised me. +Then I left him and came to Little Rock. I don't remember in what year. +I went to school here in Little Rock. I had already had some schooling. +My grandmother sent me. The school I went to was called the Union +School. It was down on Sixth Street. After I left there, I went to +Capitol Hill School. I was going to school during the Brooks-Baxter War. +The statehouse was on Markham Street and Center. My grandmother's name +was Celie Robinson. She went by the name of her owner. + +"After I had gone to school several years--I don't remember just how +many--I worked down town about ten or eleven years. Then I went to +railroading. First I was with the Iron Mountain and Southern. Later, it +changed its name to the Missouri Pacific. I worked for them from 1891 +to 1935. On August 29th I received my last pay check. I have tried ever +since to get my railroad pension to which my years of service entitle me +but have been unable to get it. The law concerning the pension seems to +have passed on the same day I received my last check, and although I +worked for forty-four years and gave entire satisfaction, there has been +a disposition to keep me from the pension. While in service I had my +jaw broken in two pieces and four front teeth knocked out by a piece of +flying steel. + +"Another man was handling the steam hammer. I was standing at my regular +place doing my regular work. When that happened, I was cut down like +a weed. There wasn't a man ever thought they would see me in that job +again after that piece of steel cut me down. + +"Also, I lost my right eye in the service when a hot cinder from the +furnace flew in it while I was doing my regular work. Then I was +ruptured because of the handling of heavy pieces of iron at my work. I +still wear the truss. You can see the places where my jaw was broke and +you can see where my teeth were knocked out. + +"Out of all the ups and downs, I stuck to the company just the same +until they retired me in 1935 because of old age. The retirement board +wanted to know when I asked for a pension, why did I think I was +entitled to a pension? I told them because I had been injured through +service with the company and had honorably finished so long a period of +service. It is now admitted that I am eligible to a railroad pension but +there seems to still be a delay in paying it for some reason or other. + + +Support Now + +"I get a little assistance from the Welfare, and I get some commodities. +If it wasn't for that, I would be broke up." + +[HW: Brooks-Baxter War was about 1872-74.] + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Malindy Robinson + 8th Street, West Memphis, Arkansas +Age: 61 + +"I was born in Wilkerson County, Mississippi. My ma never was sold, She +said she was eleven years old when peace was declared. Master Sims was +grandma's owner. Grandpa was never sold. He was born in Mississippi. He +was a mulatto man. He was a man worked about the house and grandma was a +field woman. She said she never was whooped but worked mighty hard. They +was good to grandma. She lived in the quarters. My parents b'long to the +same owner. But far as I ever knowed they married long after freedom. +They was raised close to Woodville, Mississippi." + + + + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person interviewed: Tom Robinson +Aged: 88 +Home: Lives with his son on outskirts of Hot Springs + + +As I entered Goldstein Grade school for colored I passed an old +fellow sitting on the sidewalk. There was somthing of that venerable, +dignified, I've-been-a-slave look about him, so much of it that I almost +stopped to question him. Inside I entered a classroom, where a young +woman was in conference with a couple of sheepish youngsters who had +been kept in after school. + +Did she know the whereabouts of any ex-slaves? She beamed. Only the +other day an old man had appeared on the school grounds. She appealed to +her charges. Didn't they remember that she had told them about him and +about what slavery had meant. Sheepish looks were gone. They were agog +with interest. Yes 'um, they remembered. But none of the three knew his +name or where to find him. + +Another teacher entered the room. No, she couldn't remember the name. +But the old man often came up to watch the children at play. He said it +made him happy to see them getting opportunities he never could have +had. Wait a minute--he might be outside at this very moment. A clatter +of heels and calls of triumph. "Yes! Yes! Here he is!" + +Outside I dashed to _drop flat on the sidewalk_[HW:?] beside the +aged man I had passed a few minutes before. Out came my smile and a +notebook. With only a few preliminaries and amenities the interview was +in full swing. It neither startled nor confused him, to have an excited +young woman plant herself on a public sidewalk at his side and demand +his life's story. A man who had belonged to three different masters +before the age of 15 was inured to minor surprises. Tom Robinson long +since learned to take life as it came. + +He is quite deaf in one ear and hears poorly with the other. Nobody +within a quarter of a block could have been in doubt of what was going +on. A youth moved closer. The kept-after-school pair emerged from the +building and stood near us, goggle-eyed thruout the interview. When +we were finished, Robinson turned to the children and gave them, a +grandfatherly lecture about taking advantage of their opportunities, +a lecture in which the white woman sitting beside him joined +heartily--drawing liberally on comments of ex-slaves in recent +interviews concerning the helplessness felt in not being able to write +and read letters from well loved friends. + +"Where was I born, ma'am? Why it's my understanding that it was Catawba +County, North Carolina. As far as I remember, Newton was the nearest +town. I was born on a place belonging to Jacob Sigmens. I can just +barely remember my mother. I was not 11 when they sold me away from her. +I can just barely remember her. + +"But I do remember how she used to take us children and kneel down in +front of the fireplace and pray. She'd pray that the time would come +when everybody could worship the Lord under their own vine and fig +tree--all of them free. It's come to me lots of times since. There she +was a'praying, and on other plantations women was a'praying. All over +the country the same prayer was being prayed. Guess the Lord done heard +the prayer and answered it. + +"Old man Sigmens wasn't a bad master. Don't remember so much about him. +I couldn't have been 11 when he sold me to Pickney Setzer. He kept me +for a little while and then he sold me to David Robinson. All three of +them lived not so far apart in North Carolina. But pretty soon after he +bought me old men Dave Robinson moved to Texas. We was there when the +war started. We stayed there all during the war. I was set free there. + +"We lived in Cass County. It was pretty close to the Arkansas border, +and 'twasn't far from Oklahoma--as is now. I remember well when they was +first gathering them up for the war. We used to hear the cannon often. +Was I afraid? To be sure I was scared, right at first. Pretty soon we +got used to it. Somebody even made up a song, 'Listen to the Home-made +Thunder'. They'd sing it every time the cannon started roaring. + +"No, ma'am, there never was any fighting right around us. I never really +saw any fighting. Old man Dave Robinson was good to me. He didn't have +a big farm--just owned me. Treated me almost like I was one of his own +children. Course, I had to work. Sometimes he whipped me--but no more +than he had to. I was just a child and any child has got to be made to +mind. He was good to me, and old Miss was good to me. All my masters was +pretty good to me--lots better than the usual run. Which one I like the +best. Well, you might know. I kept the name Robinson, and I named my son +Dave. You might know which one I think the most of. + +"One day I was out milking the cows. Mr. Dave come down into the field, +and he had a paper in his hand. 'Listen to me, Tom,' he said, 'listen to +what I reads you.' And he read from a paper all about how I was free. +You can't tell how I felt. 'You're jokin' me.' I says. 'No, I ain't,' +says he. 'You're free.' 'No,' says I, 'it's a joke.' 'No,' says he, +'it's a law that I got to read this paper to you. Now listen while I +read it again.' + +"But still I wouldn't believe him. 'Just go up to the house,' says he, +'and ask Mrs. Robinson. She'll tell you.' so I went. 'It's a joke,' I +says to her. 'Did you ever know your master to tell you a lie?' she +says. 'No,' says I, 'I ain't.' 'Well,' she says, 'the war's over and +you're free.' + +"By that time I thought maybe she was telling me what was right. 'Miss +Robinson,' says I, 'can I go over to see the Smiths?'--they was a +colored family that lived nearby. 'Don't you understand,' says she, +'you're free. You don't have to ask me what you can do. Run along +child.' + +"And so I went. And do you know why I was a'going? I wanted to find out +if they was free too." (a chuckle and toothy smile) "I just couldn't +take it all in. I couldn't believe we was all free alike. + +"Was I happy? Law Miss. You can take anything. No matter how good you +treat it--it wants to be free. You can treat it good and feed it good +and give it everything it seems to want--but if you open the cage--it's +happy. + +"What did I do after the war was over? I farmed. I farmed all my life, +'til I got too old. I stopped three--four years ago. I lives with my +son--Dave Robinson--the one I named for my master. + +"How did I farm? Did I share crop? No, ma'am!" (Sharply as tho +repramanding the inquirer for an undeserved insult.) "I didn't share +crop, except just at first to get a start. I rented. I paid thirds and +fourths. I always rented. I wasn't a share-cropper.[A] + +[A: Socially and economically sharp distinctions are drawn between the +different classes of renters, both by owners and tenants themselves. +Families whom ambition and circumstances have allowed to accumulate +enough surplus to buy farm implements and have food for a year ahead +look with scorn on fellow farmers who thru inertia or bad luck must be +furnished food and the wherewithall to farm. In turn, families that have +forged ahead sufficiently to be able to pay cash rent on farms they +cultivate look down On both of the other groups.] + +"It was awful hard going after the war. But I got me a place--had to +share-crop for a year or two. But I worked hard and saved all I could. +Pretty soon I had me enough that I could rent. I always raised the usual +things--cotton and corn and potatoes and a little truck and that sort of +thing--always raised enough to eat for us and the stock--and then some +cotton for a cash crop. + +"My first wife, well it was kind of funny; I wasn't more than 19. She +had 11 children. Some of them was older than I was. No ma'am it wasn't +so hard on me. They was all old enough to take care of themselves. I +lived with that woman for 17 years. Then she died. + +"I been married five times. Three of my children are living. One's +here--that's Dave. Then there's one in Texarkana and there's one in +Kansas City. Two of my children's dead. The youngest died just about +last year. All my wives are dead. + +"Almost every day I comes up to sit here and watch the children. It does +me good to see 'em. Makes me feel good all over to think about all the +fine chance they has to get a good education. Sonny, you hear me? You +pay attention too, sonny. I'm watching you--you and all the other little +boys. You mind me. You learn all you can. You ought to be so thankful +you allowed to learn that you work hard. You mind me, sonny. When you're +grown up, you'll know what I'm talking about--and know I'm right. Run +along, sonny. No use hanging around the school yard too long." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Isom Rogers, Edmondson, Arkansas +Age: 67 + + +"I was born in Tunica County, Austin, Mississippi. I been in Edmondson, +Arkansas ten years. I come to do better. Said farming was good here. My +folks' owners was Master Palmer and George Rogers. My parents was never +sold. They was young folks in slavery time and at time of freedom. They +was farm hands. Their names was Pat and Ely Rogers. + +"I heard him say he made palings and went 'round mending the fences when +the ground was froze. He made boards to cover the houses with too--I +heard him say. He was strong and worked all the time at some jobs. Never +heard mother say very much. + +"I been farming and I have worked on quarter-boat and back farming. I +been here ten years." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Oscar James Rogers, Wheatley, Arkansas +Age: Up in 70's + + +"I come to dis state in 1885. I run off from my parents back in North +Carolina. They was working in a turpentine forest there. + +"When freedom was declared my folks heard 'bout a place where money was +easy to make. So they walked from down close to Charleston up there and +carried the children. I was 'bout nine or ten years old. I liked the +farm so I left the turpentine farm. I got to rambling round and finally +got to Arkansas. I run off from my folks cause they kept staying there. +I was a child and don't recollect much 'bout slavery. I was at the +quarters wid all the children. My mother b'longed to Bob Plat and my +father to a man named Rogers. My father could get a pass and come to see +us every Sunday providin' he didn't go nowhere else or stop long the +road. He came early and stay till bedtime. We all run to meet him. He +kiss us all in bed when he be leavin'. + +"I heard them say they 'spected a home and freedom but when the time +come they master forgot 'bout home cause they just took the few clothes +in bundles and left. Then they had a hard time 'cause they never thought +how freedom would be. They never axed for nothin' and they never got +nothin'. They didn't understand how to hustle lest somebody tell them +what to do next. They did have a hard time and it was cold and rocky +up in North Carolina to what they had been used to down close to +Charleston. + +"When I got out to Arkansas I like it better than any country I seed and +I say 'I'm stayin' here.' I meant to go back but I married and didn't +get no money ahead for a long time. Then I had a family of 11 children. +Jes' 'fore I married I got to go to school four months' close to Cotton +Plant, where I married. + +"When I was young I sho could knock off de work. I cummulated 80 acres +land in Lee County. I paid $900 for it, got in debt and had let it fur +'bout ($247.50) Two hundred forty-seven and a half dollars. All I got +outen it. I had a bad crop and had a little provision bill. I made on +time, man agreed to run me on then took it 'bout all. + +"Then I still was a strong man an' we bought 40 acres 14 miles from +Cotton Plant and I had it 27 years. Then lost it. + +"My second wife owned a house and garden at Wheatley half a mile or so +from town. We live over there. Our children all gone. She say she cooked +and washed and farmed for it. It cost $100.00. + +"I could do heap work if I could get it. Old man can't get 'nuff regular +work to cover my house or buy me a suit closes. The Government gives me +$10.00 a month. That's a help out but it don't go fir high as provisions +is. Me an' the old woman both too feeble to do much hard work. I gets +all the odd jobs the white folks give me. Misses, I ain't lazy, I jess +gettin' old and not able to hold out to do much. Whut I could do they +give it to the young fellows cause they do it in a hurry. + +"I used to vote right smart when they needed me to help out. I voted +for Hoover. Don't think it right the way the men settin' round and deir +wives workin' fer livin' and votin'. The women can vote if they want to +but I don't think it right. Seems lack the cart in front ob de horse +now. + +"It wouldn't do no more good to vote in the Primary than it do in the +General election. It don't do much good nohow. + +"Fur as I ever knowed the slaves had no uprisin's. They thought well +enough of their masters. Everybody worked then hard as they could. The +master he worked all time in the shop making things jess like he needed, +boards and handles, plows and things. Missus, everybody worked hard dem +days, both black and white, and that is the reason folks had plenty. The +old grandmas done work whut suited them and helped out. Now lack me, I +can't get the right work whut I able to do 'nuff to keep me livin'. It +is bad. + +"If times was bad as they was few years ago all old folks done been +rotten, starved to death. Times is better but they sho ain't all right +yet. + +"This young generation livin' so fast they stop thinkin'. They do well +to keep livin' their selves. They wastes a heap they outer save fur +rainy days. They ain't takin' no advice from old folks. I don't know +whut goiner become of them." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Will Ann Rogers + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 70 + + +"I was born three years after the surrender. I was born at Fryers Point, +Mississippi. The reason I ain't got the exact date when I was born, my +ma put it down in the Bible and the house burned up and everything in it +burned to ashes. No mam she got somebody what could write real nice to +write all the names and ages for her. + +"When ma was a young woman, she said they put her on a block and sold +her. They auctioned her off at Richmond, Virginia. When they sold her, +her mother fainted or drapped dead, she never knowed which. She wanted +to go see her mother lying over there on the ground and the man what +bought her wouldn't let her. He just took her on. Drove her off like +cattle, I recken. The man what bought her was Ephram Hester. That the +last she ever knowed of any of her folks. She say he mated 'em like +stock so she had one boy. He livin' down here at Helena now. He is Mose +Kent. He was born around Richmond, Virginia jes' lack dat she say. + +"When it nearly 'bout time for freedom a whole army of Yankees come by +and seed Mose working. They told him if he come go wid them they give +him that spotted horse and pair red boots. He crawled up on the horse +an' was gone wid 'em for a fact she said. She started right after them, +following him. She followed them night and day. She nearly starved, jess +begged 'long the road all she could. I heard her say how fast she have +to walk to keep on trail of 'em and how many nights. She say some nights +when they camped she would beg 'round and try to fill up. But she +couldn't get to Mose without them seein' her. When they got to Fryers +Point she went an' got him. They jess laughed and never give him +nuthin'. They left that army fast as they could she say. + +"She married at Fryers Point. She had jes' one boy and I had four or +five sisters. They all dead but me and Mose. He think he 'bout ninety +years old. He come here to see me last year. He sho is feeble. + +"How come I here? When I was fourteen years old my family heard how fine +this State was and moved to Helena. I lived at Moro and Cotton Plant. +Then, the way I come here was funny. A man come up there and say a free +train was comin' to go back to Africa. All who wanted to go could go. My +pa sold out 'bout all we had an' we come here lack they say. No train +come yet goin' to Africa as I seed. My pa give the white man $5.00 to +pay fer the train. Tom Watson was one of 'em too. He was a sorter leader +'mong 'em wantin' to go back. Well when the day come that the train due +to start everybody come to the depot whar the train going to stop. +There was a big crowd. Yes mam, dressed up, and a little provisions and +clothes fixed up. Jes' could take along a little. They say it would +be crowded so. We stayed around here a week or two waitin' to hear +somethin' or be ready to go. Most everybody stayed prutty close to the +depot for two or three days. Yes mam there sho was a crowd--a whole big +train full from here 'sides the other places. I jes' stayed here an' +been here ever since. The depot agent, he told 'em he didn't know 'bout +no train going to Africa. The tickets was no good on his trains. + +"How I owns this place, I'll tell you. A man here had all dis land +'round here (Negro town) laid off. He couldn't sell none of his lots. +They wouldn't buy his lots. So he got after me. We had made a good crop, +so I got up the money and bought this place. One hundred dollars is what +I give him. Others then started to settlin' in and about close to my +place. + +"I guess it was Spotsells in Virginia what raised her. She say her name +was Lizzie Spotsell Johnson. Then when Ephram Hester bought her they +learned her to do about in their house. She cooked and swept and knocked +flies and tended to the children. She stayed with 'em a pretty long time +till she run off and went to Fryers Point. + +"She may have told us about the Nat Turner rebellion but I don't +remember it. They sung a lot in my mother's time. Seemed lack they was +happier than we are somehow. She sung religious songs and one or two +field songs. I don't recollect 'em now. + +"I never did vote. I never cared nuthin' about it. Some of 'em 'round +here wouldn't miss votin' for nothin'. + +"Lawd me, chile, the times is done run ahead of me now. I'm so fur +behind I never expect to catch up. I don't pay no more attention to the +young folks, the way they act now, 'an I do my little dog there. They +don't want no advice and I would be afraid I would 'vise 'em wrong. +When my children come I tell 'em you are grown and you knows right from +wrong. Do right. That's all I know to say. + +"The way I am supported is my husband gets all the jobs he able to do +and can and the governmint give me an' him $10 a month. We has a little +garden." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: William Henry Rooks + Baptist Preacher; Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +The slaves didn't spect nothing but freedom. Jes freedom! In Africa they +was free as wild animals and then they was so restricted. Jes put in +bondage for no reason at all. + +No plantations was divided. I was born a slave and I remembers right +smart how it was. + +My master was John Freeman and his wife's name was Fannie. I went to +Como, Mississippi twice a week to get the mail all durin the war. It was +eight miles. I rode a pony. + +If you go to church you have to have a pass from the master. The +pattyrollers see you and you have to show it to them. It was just a +note. If you didn't have it they take or send you home. If they catch +you any more without a pass they whip you. They come to the church and +in all public places like the police stands around now. They rode around +mostly. Sometimes they went in droves. + +They would let you go visiting sometimes and exchange work. Some masters +was good and some was mean jess like they are now and some slaves good +and some bad. That is the way they are now. + +Some of the white men had a hundred slaves and had plenty money. The war +broke nearly all of them. The very worse thing I ever knowed about it +was some white men raised hands to sell like they raise stock now. It +was hard to have your child took off and never see or hear tell of it. +Mean man buy it and beat it up. Some of them was drove off to be sold at +auction at New Orleans. That was where some took them cause they could +get big money for them. + +I never knowed of a master to give the slaves a dime when they become +free. They never promissed them nothing. The Yankees might have to toll +them off. The hands all stayed on John Freeman's place and when it was +over he give them the privilege of staying right on in their houses. +Some left after awhile and went somewhere they thought they could do +better. + +They didn't have the Ku Klux but it was bout like it what they had. +They wore caps shine de coons eye and red caps and red garments. Red +symbolize blood reason they wore red. They broke up our preaching. Some +folks got killed. Some was old, some young--old devlish ones. They was +like a drove of varments. I guess you be scared. They run the colored +folks away from church a lot of times. That was about equalization after +the freedom. That was the cause of that. + +There was uprisings like I'm telling you but the colored folks didn't +have nothing to go in a gun if he had one. White folks make them give up +a gun. + +The first votin I done I was workin for young Henry Larson back in +Mississippi. He give my mother $120 a year to cook for his young wife +and give her what she eat and I worked on his farm. He told me to go +vote, it was election day. I ask him how was I going to know how to +vote. I could read a little. I couldn't write. The ballot box was at +Pleasant Mount. Ozan set over the box. He was a Yankee. He was the only +one kept the box. It was a wooden box nailed up and a slit in the top. +A.R. Howe and Captain Howe was two more Yankee white men there watching +round all day. Ozan was the sheriff at Sardis, Mississippi soon after +the war. Some more colored folks come up to vote. We stood around and +watched. We saw D. Sledge vote; he owned half of the county. We +knowed he voted Democrat so we voted the other ticket so it would be +Republican. I voted for President Grant. I don't believe in women +voting. They used to have the Australian Ballot System. It's a heap more +the man that's elected than it is the party. We all voted for Hoover; +he was a Republican and foe he got one term served out we was about on +starvation. I ain't voted since. That President claim to be a Democrat. +He ain't no Democrat. I don't know what he be. + +I been farming and preaching. I started preaching in Mississippi. I +joined the conference in Arkansas in 1886 and started preaching at +Surrounded Hill (Biscoe). I come here in 1884 from Pinola County. +Mississippi. I had some stock and they was fencing up everything over +there. I had no land so I come to an open country. It wasn't long before +they fenced it in. I come to Brinkley and worked for Gun and Black +sawmill and I been here forty or fifty years. I don't know jess how +long. I couldn't starve to death in a whole year here. The people +wouldn't let me. I got lot of friends, both black and white, here. + +I married December 17, 1874 in the Baptist church. Glasco Wilson was the +preacher married me. My wife died here in dis house nine years ago. We +had ten children but jes two livin now. My girl married a preacher and +live at Hope. Arkansas. My son preaches in Parson, Kansas. + +I supports my own self. I works and I preaches a little yet. I saved up +some money but it nearly give out. The young generation, some of them, +do mighty bad. Some of them is all right. Some of them don't do much +and don't save nothing. I owns this house and did own another one what +burned down. A lamp exploded and caught it while I was going off up the +road but I never looked back or I would have seen it. It seem lack now +it takes more money to do than it ever did in times before. Seems like +money is the only thing to have and get. Folks gone scottch crazy over +money, money! Both is changing. The white folks, I'm speaking bout, the +white folks has changed and course the colored folks keeping up wid +them. The old white and colored neither can't keep up wid the fast +times. I say it's the folks that made this depression and it's the folks +keeping the depression. The little fellow is squeezed clear out. It out +to be stopped. Folks ain't happy like they used to be. Course they sung +songs all the time. Religious choruses mostly. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Amanda Rosa + 817 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was nine years old in the time of the surrender. I know I was here +in that time. I don't know nothin' 'bout their carryin'-on. I know they +whipped them with hobble rods. You don't know what hobble rods is!!! +Ain't you seen these here long thin hick'ry shoots? They called hobble +rods. I don't know why they called 'em hobble rods. I know they made you +hobble. They'd put 'em in the fire and roast 'em and twist 'em. I have +seen 'em whip them till the blood run down their backs. I've seen 'em +tie the women up, strip 'em naked to their waist and whip 'am till the +blood run down their backs. They had a nigger whipper, too. + +"I was born in Salem, Alabama. I came up here about twenty-five years +ago. + +"Isaac Adair was the name of the old man who owned me. He owned my +mother and father too, Hester and Scip. Their last name was Adair, the +same as their master's. + +"I don't remember the names of my grandfather and grandmother, 'cause we +was crossed up, you see, One of my grandmothers was named Crecie and the +other was named Lydia. I don't remember my grandfather's name. I spect +I used to call 'im master. I used to remember them but I don't no more. +Nobody can't worry me 'bout them old folks now. They ast me all them +questions at the Welfare. They want to know your gran'pa and your +gran'ma. Who were they, what did they do, where did they live, where are +they now? I don't know what they did. That's too far back for me. + +"My mother and father had nine children. I have only one sister living. +All the others done gone to heaven but me and her. + +"My mother and father lived in a log cabin. They had one-legged beds +nailed to the wall. They had benches and boxes and blocks and all sich +as that for chairs. My daddy made the table we used. He made them +one-legged beds too. They kept the food in boxes and gourds. They had +these big gourds. They could cut holes in the top of them and put things +in them. My mammy had a lot of 'em and they were nice and clean too. +Wisht I had one of them now. + +"Some folks didn't have that good. We had trundle beds for the children +that would run under the big bed when they wasn't sleeping in it. We +made a straw mattress. You know the white folks weren't goin' to let 'em +use cotton, and they didn't have no chickens to git feathers from; so +they had to use straw. Oh, they had a hard time I'm tellin' you. My +mother pulled greens out of the garden and field, and cured it up for +the mattress. + +"For rations, we'd eat onions and vegetables. We et what was raised. +You know they didn't have nothin' then 'cept what they raised. All the +cookin' was done at one house, but there was two cooks, one for the +colored folks and one for the white folks. My grandma cooked for the +white people. They cooked in those big old washpots for the colored +people. We all thought we had a pretty good master. + +"We didn't know nothin' about a master. + +"I ain't positive what time the hands ate breakfast. I know they et it +and I know they et at the same time and place. I think they et after +sunrise. They didn't have to eat before sunrise. + +"When they fed the children, they cook the food and put it in a great +big old tray concern and called up the children, 'Piggee-e-e-e-e, +piggee-e-e-e-e.' My cousin was the one had to go out and call the +children; and you could see them runnin' up from every which way, little +shirt tails flyin' and hair sticking out. Then they would pour the food +out in different vessels till the children could git around them with +those muscle-shell spoons. Many of them as could get 'round a vessel +would eat out of it and when they finished that one, they'd go to +another one, and then to another one till they all got fed. + +"My master worked seventy hands they said. He had two colored overseers +and one white one. He didn't allow them overseers to whip and slash +them niggers. They had to whip them right. Didn't allow no pateroles to +bother them neither. That's a lot of help too. 'Cause them pateroles +would eat you up. It was awful. Niggers used to run away to keep from +bein' beat up. + +"I knowed one gal that ran away in the winter time and she went up into +the hollow of a tree for protection. When she came in, she was in sich +a bad condition they had to cut off both her legs. They had froze out +there. They taken care of her. They wanted her to work. She was jus' as +nice a seamstress as you ever saw. And she could do lots of things. She +could get about some. She could go on her knees. She had some pads for +them and was just about as high as your waist when she was goin' along +on her hands and knees, swinging her body between her arms. + + +Ate in the Big House + +"The cooks and my mother stayed in the white folks' yard. They weren't +in the quarters. My mother was seamstress and she was right in the house +all the day long sewing. The children like me and my sister, they used +us 'round the house and yard for whatever we could do. They didn't never +whip none of my father's children. If we done something they thought we +ought to been whipped for, they would tell father to whip us, and if he +wanted to, he would; and if he didn't want to, he wouldn't. They made a +big difference for some reason. + + +Marriage + +"They married in that time by standing up and letting someone read the +ceremony to them. My master was a Christian. There wasn't no jumpin' +over a broomstick on my master's place. The white folks didn't have no +nigger preacher for their churches. But the colored folks had 'em. They +preached out of these little old Blue Back Spellers--leastways they was +little blue back books anyhow. + + +Freedom + +"My folks was on the road refugeeing from Magnolia, Arkansas to +Pittsburg, Texas when the news came that the colored folks was free. And +my master came 'round and told the niggers they was free as he was. I +didn't hear him. I don't know where I was. I'm sure I was out playin +somewheres. + + +Slave Wages and Experiences after the War + +"My father worked in a blacksmith shop right after the War. Before the +War, he went far and near to work for the white folks. They'd risk him +with their money and everything. They would give him part of it; I don't +know how much. He brought money to them, and they sure give him money. + +"We didn't have to wear the things the other slave children had to wear. +He would order things for his family and my father would do the same for +us. When old master made his order, my father would put his in with it. + + +Family + +"I am the mother of fifteen children--ten girls and five boys. That was +enough for me. I am willing to quit off. My husband is dead. He's been +dead for thirty-five years. + + +Opinions + +"I don't know what to say about these young people. Mine are pretty +good. So, I'm 'fraid to say much about the others. + +"Lord, I don't know what we'll do if we don't get some rain. + + +Vocational Experiences + +When I was able I washed and ironed. I didn't have to do nothin' till +after my father and husband died. Then I washed and ironed and cooked +till the white folks set me out. They said I was too old. That is one +thing I hates to think of. They had the privilege to say I couldn't +work; they ought to a seen that I got somethin' to live on when I wasn't +able to work no more." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +You can't get the whole story by reading the words in this interview. +You have to hear the tones and the accents, and see the facial +expressions and bodily movements, and sense the sometimes almost occult +influence; you have to feel the utter lack of resentment that lies +behind the words that sound vehement when read. You marvel at the quick, +smooth cover-up when something is to be withheld, at the unexpected +vigor of the mind when the bait is attractive enough to draw it out, and +at the sweetness of the disposition. Some old people merely get +mellowed and sweetened by the hardships through which they have passed. +Sometimes, you wonder if some of the old folk don't have dispositions +that they can turn off or on at will. + +It is not hard to realize the reason why Amanda was treated better than +other children when you remember that she called her grandpa "Master". + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: "Cat" Ross + Brassfield, Ark. +Age: Born 1862 + + +"I was born in Releford County on old Major Ross place. I was born +durin' a battle between the North and South at Murfreesboro. The house +was on the battle ground. Mama had five children. Her name was Susanna +Wade. Papa's name was Amos Ross. He belong to Major Bill Ross. Major +Ross had ten houses houses--one at the edge of the thicket, two on Stone +river, and they was scattered around over his land. Major Ross never +went to war. Papa went with Major Billy to bury his gold. It stayed +where they put it till after the war they went and dug it up. I seen +that. When they brought it to the house, it was a pot--iron pot--full of +gold. I didn't know where they had it buried nor how they fixed it. + +"My folks was all field hands. They muster been blessed cause +they didn't get mixed up with the other nations. Grandfather's +mother--Grandma Venus--come from Africa. She'd been in bondage about +a hundred years. I recollect her well. My folks all lived to be old +people, over a hundred years old. They was all pretty well, all +Africans. + +"I have seen the Ku Klux quarter mile long and two breasted on horses. +They scared me so bad I never had no experiences with them. They run my +uncle in. He was a big dancer. One time they made him dance. He cut the +pigeon-wing for them. That was the name of what he danced. + +"I never was sold. I was give way. One of the Wades married into the +Mitchell family. Mama belong to the Wades. They give me and Mama and +Aunt Sallie--she wasn't my aunt but I called her that--to Wade's +daughter. She was the young mistress. The Wades wasn't so good to their +slaves. When freedom was declared, Papa come and got me and Mama and +took us on over to his place agin. We started sharecroppin' at Major +Ross's place. In 1881 Chick McGregor paid my way. I come to Arkansas. +I farmed all my life till 1922 to 1933 I been here in Brassfield +sawmilling. They took the mill away from here. I cain't plough, I'm not +able. I pick and hoe cotton. I work day labor. I never have got on the +Welfare." + + + + +Southfield +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson +Subject: Centennial Snow--Spring in St. Louis addition + +Name: Mattie Ross +Occupation: Gardening +Residence: South Field, Oil Field. +Age: 74 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.] + + +Ah wuz born aftuh surrender. Ah guess ah'm about 74 years ole. Mah pa +wuz er slave an mah ma wuz too. Dey moster wuz name Green Traylor an dey +lived right down dar at _Tula_ Creek. Mah mistess wuz named Martha +Traylor an dey name me aftuh huh. Mah name is Martha Lee Traylor. Aftuh +she mahried huh name wiz Martha Tatum. We worked down dar. Oh! Mah Lawd! +How we did work--all ovah dat bottom. De puttiest fiel' ah evah did see. +De Traylor's owned hit den. Later on de Tatums bought hit fum dem and +years aftuh dat de Nash's bought hit fum de Tatums. But new all uv dat +place is growed up. Nothing but er pine thicket and er black berry +thicket. Ye caint hardly walk through de place. Later on de Cobbs owned +us. George Cobb wuz his name. He lived down in de Caledonia settlement. +Ah went behin' him er many er day wid de hoe or he'd crack mah haid. +He use tuh be de sheriff here de years uv de boom an his nephew is de +sheriff now--Grady Wosley. Later en while ah wuz a gull ah werked fuh +de Swilleys an wuz partly raised on dey plantation. De ole man wuz name +Lawson Swilley. His wife, Margaret Swilley, and I clare dem two people +treated me white. She mammied me er many er day. Ah wuz bred and born +right down dar er-round Caledonia. Ah wuz a big gull durin de time uv de +centennial snow. Dis snow wuz called dat cause hit wuz de bigges snow +dat evah been. Hit wuz ovah yo haid. We had tuh spade our way evah whah +we went. Tuh de wood gitting place, tuh de sping, tuh de hoss lot, and +evah whah. De anow wuz warm an soft. We piled up so much snow till hit +took hit er half er year tuh melt. Dat snow stayed on de groun two +months. + +Ah am de muthah uv five gulls and fo' boys. Didn nairy one uv mah gulls +come in de pen till dey wuz mahried. Ah use tuh fish in er big ole fish +pond rat down whah de wesson depot is now. Years ergo people come fum +Camden an othuh places tuh fish in dat fish pond. + +Mr. Sam Austin sole old man Burgy (Burgiss?) er piece uv groun' to bury +folks in and he wuz de first man tuh die an be buried dar. So dey name +hit de Burgy Cemetery. + +Down dar in Memphis Addition atah the colored Prof. Dykes place dar use +tuh be one uv de bes' springs. Course at dat time hit wuz er big ole +fiel' den and de watuch wuz jes lak ice watuh. + +Dat make me think. Mah pa sed he went tuh de wah tuh cook fuh his ole +moster, Green Traylor. Well pa said dar wuz er spring whar dey got +watuh. Said he went tuh git watuh outen de sping and had tuh pull dead +men outn de spring an dat day drinked of'n dem dead men all while de wah +wuz going on. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Laura Rowland + (Bright Mulatto) +Age: 65? +Address: Brinkley, Arkansas + + +"My parents name was Mary Ann and Sam Billingslea. Mother's father lived +with us when I first remember. His name was Robert Todd. He was a brown +skin Negro. They said he was a West Indian. He talked of olden times but +I don't remember well enough to tell you. Father owned a home that we +was living on when I first remember. Mother was bright color, too. +Vaden, Mississippi was our trading post. Mother had twenty children. She +was a worker. She would work anywhere she was put. My folks never talked +much about slavery. I don't know how they got our place. + +"I know they was bothered by the Ku Klux. One night they heard or saw +the Ku Klux coming. The log house set low on the ground but was dug out +to keep potatoes and things in--a cellar like. The planks was wide, bout +a foot wide, rough pine, not nailed down. They lifted the planks up and +all lay down and put the planks back up. The house look like outside +nothing could go under it, it was setting on the hard ground. When they +got there and opened the doors they saw nobody at home and rode off. + +"Another time, one black night, a man--he must have been a +soldier--strided a block step with his horse and ordered supper. She +told him she didn't have nothing cooked and very little to cook. He +cursed and ordered the supper. Told her to get it. She pretended to be +fixing it and slipped out the back door down the furrows and squatted +in the briers in a fence corner. Long time after she had been out there +hid, he come along, jumped the fence on his horse, jumped over her back, +down into the lane and to the road he went. If the horse hadn't jumped +over her and had struck her he would have killed her. Now I think he was +a soldier, not the Ku Klux. I heard my father say he was a yard boy. + +"I married in Mississippi and came to Malvern and Hot Springs. He was a +mill hand. I raised three children of my own and was a chamber maid. +I kept house and cooked for Mrs. Bera McCafity, a rich woman in Hot +Springs. My husband died and was buried at Malvern. I married again, in +Hot Springs, and lived there several years. We went to the steel mill at +Gary, Indiana. He died. I come back here and to Brinkley in 1920. One +daughter lives in Detroit and one in Chicago. The youngest one is +married, has a family and a hard time; the other makes her living. It +takes it all to do her. I get $8.00 on the P.W.A. + +"They all accuse me around here of talking mighty proper. I been around +fine city folks so much I notice how they speak. + +"I don't fool with voting. I don't care to vote unless it would be some +town question to settle. I would know something about it and the people. + +"I don't know my age. I was grown when I married nearly sixty years ago. +We have to show our license to get on the W.P.A. or our age in the Bible +you understand." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Landy Rucker + 2315 W. Fourth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"I was born in 1854 in the State of Georgia, Elbert County. + +"I member some about the war. I went to the field when I was twelve. +Pulled fodder, picked peas and tended to the cow pen. I had to go then. +We had _a good master_. _Our mistress wasn't good though_. She +wouldn't give us enough to eat. Old master used to ask if we had enough +to eat and he'd pull out great big hams and cut em all to pieces and +give em to us. Old mistress would cry and say, 'You're givin' away all +my good dinner.' But she repented since the war. She said she didn't do +right. + +"We got here to Pine Bluff in '61. + +"Oh yes, I remember comin' here on the train and on the boat. + +"Old mistress whipped us when she thought we needed it. I been pretty +good all my life. + +"My father was a blacksmith and one day when I was six or seven I was +takin' his dinner when some dogs smelled the dinner and smelled me too +and they got after me. I had to climb a tree and they stayed around till +they heard some other dogs barkin' and ran off. I come down then and +took my bucket and left. Nother time some hogs chased me. They rooted +all around the tree till they heard somethin' crackle in the woods and +run off and then I'd come down. + +"After the war I went to school three days and the teacher whipped me. I +went home and I didn't go back. I went home and went to the field. I had +a mother and a sister and I tried to make a living for them. + +"I went to school a little while after that and then went to the field. +Most I know I learned by myself. + +"Yes'm, I seen the Yankees bout a year fore the war ceasted. They come +to get somethin' to eat and anything else they could get. Got the mules +and things and took my two brothers and put em in the war. One come back +after surrender and the other one died in the war. They said they was +fightin' to free the niggers from being under bondage. + +"I seen the Ku Klux. Looked like their horses could fly. Made em jump a +big high fence. They come and took my father and all the other men on +the place and was goin' to put em in the Confederate army. But papa was +old and he cried and old mistress thought a lot of him so they let him +stay. I just lay down and hollered cause they was takin' my brothers, +but they didn't keep em long. One of my brothers, six years older than +me, come up here to Pine Bluff to jine the Yankees. + +"We could hear the guns at Marks Mill. + +"I been married twice. There was about eleven years betwixt the two +marriages. + +"I worked on the farm till about '85. Then I worked in the planing mill. +I got hit by a car and it broke my hip so I have to walk on crutches +now. Then I got me a little shoe shop and I got along fine till I got so +I couldn't set down long enough to fix a pair of shoes. I bought this +house and I gets help from the Relief so I'm gettin' along all right +now." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Martha Ruffin + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was born in North Carolina, and I was seven years old when the +Surrender was. Every one of my children can tell you when they was born, +but I can't. My mother, Quinettie Farmer was her name. Brother Robert +Farmer is my cousin. He is about the same age as my husband. He got +married one week and me and my husband the next. My father's name was +Valentine Farmer. My grandmother on my mother's side was Mandy Harrison, +and my grandfather's name on my mother's side was Jordan Harrison. My +grandpa on my father's side was named Reuben Farmer, and his wife was +Nancy Farmer. I have seed my grandpa and grandma on my father's side. +But my mother didn't see them on my mother's side. + +"I 'members my daddy's white folks' names, Moses Farmer. My father never +was sold. My daddy, Valentine Farmer, was a ditcher, shoemaker, and +sometimes a tanner. My mother was a house girl. She washed and ironed. I +couldn't tell exactly what my grandparents did. My grandparents, so my +parents told me, were mostly farmers. I reckon Moses Farmer owned about +three hundred slaves. + +"I was born on Robert Bynum's place. He was my mother's owner. He +married one of the Harrison girls and my mother fell to that girl. My +mother done just about as she pleased. She didn't know nothin' about +workin' in the field till after the Surrender. + +"The way my mother and father happened to meet--my old master hired my +daddy to do some work for him and he met my mama that way. + +"The way my folks learned they was free was, a white school-teacher who +was teaching school where we stayed told my mother she was free, but +not to say nothing about it. About three weeks later, the Yankees come +through there and told them they was free and told my old boss that if +he wanted them to work he would have to hire them and pay them. The +school-teacher stayed with mother's folks--mother's white folks. The +school-teacher was teaching white folks, not niggers. She was a Yankee, +too. My mother was the house girl, and the school-teacher stayed with +her folks. The War was so hot she couldn't git no chance to go back +home. + +"My daddy farmed after the War. He farmed on shares the first year. The +next year, he bought him a horse. He finally owned his own farm. He +owned it when he died. He had about one hundred acres of land. + +"I have pretty fair health for an old woman like I am. I am bothered +with the rheumatism. The Lawd wouldn't let both of us git down at the +same time. (Here she refers to her husband who was sick in bed at +the time she made the statement. You have his story already. It was +difficult for her to tell her story, for he wanted it to be like +his--ed.) + +"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church. I haven't changed my +membership from my home. + +"I got married in 1882, in February. How many years is that? I got so I +can't count up nothin'. Fifty-six years. Yes, that's it; that's how long +I been married. I had a little sister that got married with me. She +didn't really git married; she just stood up with me. She was just a +little baby girl. They told me I was pretty near twenty-three years old +when I married. I have a daughter that's been married twenty-five years. +We had older daughters, but that one was the first one married. I have +got a daughter over in North Little Rock that is about fifty years old. +Her husband is dead. We had ten children. My daughter is the mother of +ten children too. She got married younger than I did. This girl I am +living with is my baby. I have four children living--three girls and one +boy. A woman asked me how many children I had and I told her three. She +was a fortuneteller and she wanted to tell me my fortune. But I didn't +want her to tell me nothin'. God was gittin' ready to tell me somethin' +I didn't want to hear. I've got five great-grandchildren. We don't have +no great-great-grandchildren. Don't want none." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The old lady's style was kind of cramped by the presence of her husband. +Every once in a while, when she would be about to paint something in +lurid colors, he would drop in a word and she would roll her phrases +around in her mouth, so to speak, and shift and go ahead in a different +direction and on another gear. + +Very pleasant couple though--with none of the bitterness that old age +brings sometimes. The daughter's name is Searles. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person Interviewed: Thomas Ruffin + 1310 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 82 or 84 + + +"I was born in North Carolina, Franklin County, near Raleigh. My +father's name really I don't know. Folks said my master was my daddy. +That's what they told me. Of course, I don't know myself. But then white +folks did anything they wanted to in slavery times. + +"My mother's name was Morina Ruffin. I don't know the names of my +grandparents. That is too far back in slavery for me. Of course, old man +Ruffin my father's father, which would have been my grandfather, he died +way back yonder in slave times before the war. My father gotten kilt in +the war. His name was Tom Ruffin. I was named after him. He died trying +to hold us. That man owned three hundred slaves. He never married. +Carried my mother round everywhere he went. Out of all his niggers, he +didn't have but one with him. That was in slavery time and he was a fool +about her. + +"I couldn't tell you exactly when I was born. Up until the surrender I +couldn't tell how old I was. I am somewheres around eighty-two years +old. The old lady is just about the same. We guesses it in part. We +figure it on what we heard the old folks say and things like that. I +remember plenty of things about slavery that I saw. + +"I never did much when I was a boy. The biggest thing I remember is a +mule got to kicking and jumped around in a stall. She lost her footing +and fell down and broke her neck right there in the stall. I remember +her name as well as if it was yesterday. Her name was Bird. That was +just before the war. I know I must have been at least four years old +then. You can figure that up and see what it comes to. + +"I never did any work when I was a child. I jus went to the spring with +the young Mistress and danced for them sometimes. But they never did +give me any work to do,--like they did the others. I lived right in the +biggest house the biggest portion of my time. + +"That day and time, they made compost heaps. Mixed dirt with manure. +They hoed cotton and crops. They didn't know what school was. They +helped with washing and ironing. Did every kind of work they had +strength enough to do till they got big enough to go to the field. That +was what the children did. + +"When they were about seven years old, to the best of my recollection +they would go to the field. Seven or eight. They would pick up corn +stalks and brush. And from that on when they were about eight or nine, +they would pick cotton. + +"My mother never did have to do anything round the farm. She lived about +seventy-five miles from it, there where the master had his office. He +was a lawyer. After I was born, she didn't come out to see me but once a +year that I recollect. When she did come, she would bring me some candy +or cakes or something like that. + +"I didn't see the soldiers during the time of the war. But I saw plenty +of them afterwards--riding round and telling the niggers they were free. +They had some of the finest saddles I ever seed. You could hear them +creaking a block off. No, I didn't see them while they was fighting. We +were close enough to hear the guns crash, and we could see the light +from them, but I didn't actually see the fightin. The Yankees come +through on every plantation where they were working and entered into +every house and told us we was free. The Yankees did it. They told you +you were free as they were, that you didn't have to stay where you was, +that you didn't have no more master, that you could go and come as you +pleased. + +"I got along _hard_ after I was freed. It is a hard matter to tell +you what we could find or get. We used to dig up dirt in the smokehouse +and boil it and dry it and sift it to get the salt to season our food +with. We used to go out and get old bones that had been throwed away and +crack them open and get the marrow and use them to season the greens +with. Jus plenty of niggers then didn't have anything but that to eat. + +"Even in slavery times, there was plenty of niggers out of them three +hundred slaves who had to break up old lard gourds and use them for +meat. They had to pick up bones off the dung hill and crack them open to +cook with. And then, of course, they'd steal. Had to steal. That the bes +way to git what they wanted. + +"They had a great big kitchen for the slaves. They had what you call pot +racks they could push them big pots in and out on. They cooked hog slop +there. They had trays and bowls to eat out of that were made out of gum +wood. It was a long house used as a kitchen for the hands to go in +and eat. They et dinner there and for supper they would be there. But +breakfast, they would have to eat in the field. The young niggers would +bring it out to them. They would bring it about an hour after the sun +rose and the slave hands would eat it right out in the field; that was +the breakfast. You see the hands went to the field before sunup, and +they didn't get to eat breakfast in the kitchen and it had to be et in +the field. Little undergrowth of children--they had plenty of them on +the place--had to carry their meals to them. + +"They would usually give them collars [HW: collards] in green times, +potatoes in potato time. Bread,--they didn't know what that was. White +folks hardly knew theirselves. They didn't have butter and they didn't +have no sugar. Didn't know much about what meat was yet. They would give +the little bits of children pot liquor. That's the most I ever seed them +git. Of course I was treated differently. You couldn't judge them by +me. I was the only half-white youngun round there, and they said I was +half-brother to ol Marse's chillun. And the white chillen would git me +up to the house to dance for them and all like, and they would give me +biscuits or anything good they had. I never seed the others eatin nothin +but pot liquor. + +"Most of the slaves lived in log cabins. You know they never had but +one door. In general where they had large families, they would have two +rooms with a chimney in the middle of the house. The chimney was built +out of mud and straw. I can remember them sawin the timber. Two pulled a +big ol crosscut saw. Didn't have no saw mills then. This world has come +from a long ways. They used to didn't have no plows. It was without +form. You made it at home. + +"They had ol homemade bedsteads to sleep in. They had a little rope +that ran back and forth instead of slats. That was called a corded bed. +Cheers were all made at home and were split bottoms. + +"They didn't many of the slaves have food in their homes. But when they +did, they would jus have a little wooden box and they would put their +food in it. + +"It seems like the white people got to burying their money during the +time of the war. That never come out till after the war. Then they got +to wantin that money and started looking for it. There never was any +talk of buried treasure before the war. + +"My folks didn't give me any schoolin before the surrender. I never +got any before the surrender and a mighty little afterwards. No nigger +knowed anything. I started to farming when I was thirteen years old. I +used to be a fertilizer, and then a cotton sower. That was the biggest +I knowed about farming when I was a boy. My mother lived about fifteen +years after slavery. I reckon. + +"In the time of slavery, you couldn't marry a woman. You just took up +with her. Mother married the same man she had been going with after +freedom. She had four children after the surrender as fer as I can +tell--three girls and two boys. + +"I moved from North Carolina to Louisiana. Stayed there one year and +then moved here. Bought forty acres of land. Bought it after I'd been +here a year. It took me four years to pay for that. Then next time I +bought eighty acres and paid for them. Paid them out in two years. Then +I bought eighty acres more and paid for them in two years. Couldn't pay +for them cash at first, but could have paid for the last eighty when I +bought them if I had a wanted to. Then I bought eighty more and then I +bought eighty again and then forty and on till I had five hundred and +three acres of farm land. I got the three over when I got the sorghum +mill. + +"I left my farm and come to the city for doctor's treatment. My old +lady and I worked out five hundred and three acres of land. I got five +children living. I gave each one of them forty acres of land. Most of +the rest I sold. I got a fellow here that owes me for one of the places +now. He lives over on Third and Dennison. His name is Wright. My old +lady an me held on to that and didn't lose it even in all these hard +years. + +"My daughter kept after me to come here and she built this little house +out here where I could holler or do anything I wanted to do and not +disturb nobody. I couldn't feel at home up in a big house with other +people. Four or five months ago it would take two people to put me to +bed. I would get off from home and have to carry me back. But I +am gettin along fine now. This high blood pressure keeps me from +remembering so well. Ol lady where's my pipe? You didn't find it up to +daughter's? Ain't it in the kitchen? Can't you find it nowheres? What +_didju_ do with it? Well, you needn't look for it no longer. It's +here in my pocket. That's my high blood pressure workin. That whut it +does to you. + +"I belong to the Primitive Baptist Church and have been belonging to it +altogether about sixty-three years. I used to be a Missionary. I been a +member of the church a long time. + +"I think times are jus fulfilling the Bible. The people are wiser now +than we ever known them to be and wickeder. I don't believe the times +you see now will be always. People are getting so wise and so wicked +that I think the end is near at hand. You notice the Germans now are +trying to make slaves out of the Jews. There's the Japans that is jus +slaughtering up the Chinese like they was nothin but dumb brutes. The +world is wickeder than it ever has been before. + +"The young people today! I'd hate to tell you what I do think of them. +The business is going to fall." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Casper Rumple, De Valls Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I will be, providin' the good Lord spare me, 79 years old the first day +of January. I was born in Lawrence County, South Carolina. The Big road +was the dividing line between that and Edgefield County. My mother +belonged to John Griffin. His wife named Rebecca. My father was a +Irishman. Course he was a white man--Irishman. Show I did know him. He +didn't own no slaves. I don't guess he have any land. He was a overseer +in Edgefield County. His name was Ephraim Rumple. What become of him? +He went off to fight the Yankees and took Malaria fever and died on Red +River. I could show you bout where he died. + +"My mother had a big family. I can't tell you much bout them. I was the +youngest. She cooked up at John Griffins. He was a old man and the land +was all his wife's. She was old too. She had some grown girls. He had +no children. They called him Pa and I did too. I stayed round with him +nearly all the time helping him. + +"He had a room and she had a room. I slept on a bed--little +bed--home-made bed--in the room wid him and she slept in the room with +her two girls and my mother slept in the kitchen a whole heap so she +be there to get breakfast early. They riz early every mornin'. John +Griffins wife owned four plantations more than 160 acres in each one, +but I couldn't say how much. + +"My mother was a field hand in busy times too. Miss Rebecca had all the +slaves clothes made. She seed to that. She go to the city, Augusta, and +bring back bolts cloth. One slave sewed for Miss Rebecca and her family. +She didn't do all the sewing but she sewed all the time. One woman done +all the weavin'. At night after they work in the field Miss Rebecca give +em tasks--so many bats to card or so much spinnin' to do. + +"Master John didn't want em to work at night but she made em work all +the same. They b'long to her. Another thing the women had to do was work +in the garden. It was a three acre garden. They always had plenty in +thar. Had it palinged so the young chickens couldn't squeeze through the +cracks. + +"They had plenty stock and made all the fertilizer needed in the garden +and patches. They had goober patch, popcorn patch, sorghum patches, +several of em, pea patches but they was field cabbage patch and +watermellon patch. They had chicken house, goose house, duck house and +way off a turkey pen. It had a cover on it. They had to be cleaned and +all that manure moved to the garden and patches. Old man John Griffin +was a good man. Things went on pretty quiet bout the place. They had +to do their own cooking. They got for the grown ups 3 pounds meat, 1 +pk.[TR:?] meal a week. They fed the young chaps plenty so they wouldn't +get stunted. They keep em chunky till they get old nough to grow up tall +and that make big women and big men. They stunt em then when they +start runnin' up, it cause em to be low. The owners was mighty careful +(not)[HW: ?] to feed the chaps nough to eat so they make strong hands. + +"Men come long the road peddlin' from out the cities, men come long with +droves of horses and mules. They was called horse traders. Then once in +a while they come long tradin' and selling slaves. Nother way they sell +em was at public auction. Iffen a slave steal from another master, like +go in his smoke house or crib and steal, the sheriff have to whip him. +They would have public whippin'. + +"How'd they know was freedom? How'd they not know it was freedom? +Everybody went wild. They was jes' crazy cause they was free. Way I +knowd for certain it was freedom Mr. John Griffin had all the slaves +that hadn't done went off come to the house and he told them they was +all free. Some of em just started walking the roads till they nearly +starved. The government didn't start feeding the slaves till so many +nearly starved. My mother cooked on nearly a year. Then she went to work +for Vaughn in Edgefield County. + +"They didn't give them no land. The white folks was land pore. + +"They didn't have no money. When the masters had money they give the +slaves a little spending money. Nearly all the slaves had a little money +long. They get a pass to split rails for a neighbor and make money. +That was befo freedom. After freedom nobody had money but the Yankee +soldiers. They keep it closer than the folks you been livin' with. + +"Mr. Griffin, he was called General by all the young men. He was too old +to fight so he trained soldiers. He didn't wear a uniform but they did. +They met certain days every week. They wore gray uniforms. + +"They had a battle at Lawrence. It was 17 miles. The soldiers passed +long the Big road. I didn't see the battles. I heard plenty talk about +that conflict at Lawrence though. + +"I heard the slaves was goin' to get 40 acres and a mule. I tell you +they didn't wait to see if they was going to get another meal. They went +wild, walking and hooping up and down the road. They found out when they +nearly starved they had got the bad end of the game somehow. Then to +keep em from starvin' they had certain days to go to Lawrence and get a +little rations. Not much I tell you. They started stealin' and the Ku +Klux started up bout that. + +"The President got killed (Abraham Lincoln). Then they knowed the gig +was up. They had to go to work hard as ever and mighty little to eat. +The slaves did vote. It was the color of the paper they used way they +knowed how to vote. The Republican government had full sway 12 years. +All the offices at Edgefield nearly was Negroes cept the sheriff. The +Yankees tell em what to do way they knowed how. Butler went to Congress. +He was a Negro--(???). That was what the Ku Klux was mad bout. They run +the Yankees out and took holt of the offices soon as they could. + +"Our master had no Ku Klux comin' on our place. He protected us, It +wasn't no different than slavery till I was nearly grown and a drove was +walking going west to better place. I got in with them and come on. The +Ku Klux had killed several Negroes. That scared them all up. I remember +Tuscaloosa, Alabama when we cone through there. We was walking--a line +a mile long--marching and singing. They was building back in a hurry +seemed like to me. The town had been burned up. Some dropped out to get +work along. Some fell out sick. Some so weak they died long the road. +Had to keep up. Some stopped; they never caught up no more. Mostly old +folks or half starved folks couldn't keep going. The Ku Klux whoop and +shoot you down for any little thing. They started at night, fraid of the +Yankees but they whooped and run them out and the Negroes left. The Ku +Klux got so bold they didn't dress up nor go at night neither. At first +they was careful then they got bold. The Yankee soldiers bout all they +was afraid of. The Negroes found out who some of the Ku Klux was and +told the Yankees but it didn't do much good. After bout twelve years all +the Yankees gone back home. The white folks down in Carolina thought +bout as little of them as Negroes. They wouldn't let them have no land +if they did have money to pay any price for it. They didn't want them +living amongst them. They say they rether have a Negro family. + +"The biggest Negro uprisin' I ever seed was at freedom. They riz up in a +hurry. + +"I had to stop and work all along. I got to Arkansas in 1881. I never +went no further. I been all my life farmin'. I cut and sell wood, clear +land. The best living was when I farmed and sold wood. I bought a 10 +acre farm and cleared it up graduly, then I sold it fer $180.00 cause I +got blind and couldn't see to farm it. I had a house on it. I own this +here house (a splendid home). My daughter and her husband come to take +care me. They come from Cincinatti here. She made $15.00 a week up there +three years. I get $8.00 a month now from the Social Welfare. If I could +see I could make money. + +"I never seen times like this. Sin is causin' it. Unrest and +selfishness. No neighborly spirit. I don't bother no young folks. I +don't know how they will come out. If they caint get a big price they +won't work and the white folks are doing their own work, and don't help +like they did. I could get along if I could see. I had a light stroke +keeps me from talkin' good, I hear that." + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Henry Russell, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"My father's name was Ed Russell, and he was owned by Dr. Tom Russell, +de first pioneer settler of Russellville--de' man de town got its name +from. + +"My name is Henry, and some folks call me 'Bud.' I was born at Old +Dwight de 28th of October, 1866. Yes suh, dat date is correct. + +"I was too young to remember much about happenings soon after de War, +but I kin ricollect my father belongin' to de militia for awhile during +de Reconstruction days. Both Negroes and whites were members of de +militia. + +"My folks come here from Alabama, but I don't know much about them +except dat my grandmother, Charlotte Edwards, give me an old wash pot +dat has been in de family over one hundred years. Yes suh, it's out here +in de ya'd now. Also, I owns an old ax handle dat I keep down at de +store jist for a relic of old days. It's about a hundred years old, too. + +"My wife was Sallie Johnson of Little Rock, and she was a sister of Mrs. +Charley Mays, de barber you used to know, who was here sich a long time. + +"For a long time I worked at different kinds of odd jobs, sometimes in +de coal mines and sometimes on de farms, but for several years I've run +a little store for de colored folks here in Russellville. Ain't able to +do very much now. + +"I remember very well de first train dat was ever run into Russellville. +Must have been 68 or 69 years ago. A big crowd of people was here from +all over de country. Of course dere was only a few families living in de +town, and only one or two families of colored folks. People come in from +everywhere, and it was a great sign. Little old train was no bigger dan +de Dardanelle & Russellville train. (You remember de little old train +dey used to call de 'Dinkey' don't you?) Well, it wasn't no bigger dan +de Dinkey, and it didn't run into de depot at all, stopped down where de +dump is now. Sure was a sight. Lot of de folks was afraid and wouldn't +go near it, started to run when two men got off. I saw only two man +working in front of it, but I remember it very plain. Dey was working +with wheelbarrows and shovels to clear up de track ahead. + +"Another thing I remember as a boy was de 'sassination of President +Gyarfield. I can't read or write but very little, but I remember about +dat. It was a dull, foggy mornin', and I was crossin' de bayou with Big +Bob Smith. (You remember 'Big Bob' dat used to have the merry-go-'round +and made all de county fairs.) Well, he told me all about de killing of +de President. It was about 1881 wasn't it? + +"I think times was better in de old days because people was better. Had +a heap more honor in de old days dan dey have now. Not many young folks +today have much character. + +"All right. Come back again. Whenever I kin help you out any way, I'll +be glad to." + + + +NOTE: Henry Russell is quite proud of the fact that his ancestors were +the first families of Russellville. He is a polite mulatto, uneducated, +and just enough brogue to lend the Southern flavor to his speech, but is +a fluent conversationalist. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Sallie C. Miller +Person interviewed: Katie Rye, Clarksville, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"We lived in Greenbrier, Faulkner County, Arkansas. All stayed at home +and got along very well. We had enough to eat and wear. Mistress was +awful mean to us but we stayed with them until after the war. After the +war master moved us off to another place he had and my father farmed for +his self, master and his pa and ma, and mistress' pa and ma. They awful +good to us, but mistress was so high tempered she would get mad and whip +some of the slaves but she never whipped any of us. She worried so over +the loss of her slaves after the war she went crazy. We had two white +grand pas and grand mas. We colored children called them grandpa and ma +and uncle and aunt like the white children did and we didn't know +the difference. The slaves was only allowed biscuit on Christmas and +sometimes on Sundays but we had beef and plenty of honey and everything +after we moved from the big house. Mistress used to come down to see +us an' my mother would cook dinner for her and master. He was such a +_good_ man and the best doctor in the State. He would come in and +take the babies up (mother had nine children) and get them to sleep for +my mother. His mother would come to the kitchen and ask for a good cup +of coffee and mother would make it for her. The master and his family +were Northern people and my mother was given to the mistress by her +father and mother when she married. + +"After my father bought his own farm about ten miles from the big house, +father would put us all in an ox wagon and take us back to see our white +folks. + +"The mistress claimed to be a Christian and church member but I don't +see how she could have been she was so mean. + +"I think the present day generation mighty wicked. Seems like they get +worse instead of better, even the members of the church are not as good +as they used to be. They don't raise the children like they used to. +They used to go to Sunday School and church and take the children, now +the children do as they please, roam the streets. It is sad to see how +the parents are raising the children, just feed them and let them go. +The children rule the parents now. + +"We sang the old hymns and 'Dixie', 'Carry Me Back to Old Virginia', +'When You and I Were Young, Maggie'." + + + + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Miss Hazel Horn +ADDRESS--Little Rock, Arkansas +DATE--Last of April, 1936 +SUBJECT--Ex-slave +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Uncle Bob Samuels, Washington, +Arkansas + +2. Date and time of interview--Last of April, 1936 + +3. Place of interview--Washington, Arkansas + +4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant--J.C.W. Smith. + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you--J.C.W. Smith + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc. + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--Grandmother, Spanish; Grandfather, Negro; father, Negro. + +2. Place and date of birth--Born about 1846 + +3. Family-- + +4. Places lived in, with dates-- + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates-- + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant--Tall and straight. He is blind. Clean in +appearance, dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has short, clean, +grey beard. Speaks with a clear accent. + +10. Other points gained in interview--Ancestors were in De Soto +expeditions. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"From my mother's mother I learned that on my mother's side my ancestor +came with De Soto from Spain where she was educated at Madrid. From +Spain she came to Havana, Cuba, and from there to Tampa, Florida. From +Florida she came to some point in Alabama. From this place she came to +the Mississippi river and the East Bank and crossed where it is called +Gaines Landing. After they crossed the river they went ten kilometers +from there, traveled north from there to where Arkansas County is close +to the mouth of the Arkansas River. Here they camped awhile. When they +broke camp there they traveled northeast to Boiling Springs. Making +their way from here they crossed the Ouachita River on the other side +of Arkadelphia. They traveled on, crossing Little Missouri River below +Wallaceburg. Here they found some Indian mounds. Then they traveled on a +trail from there to Washington, turned into Washington and took a trail +toward Columbus and turned off to the right (Uncle Bob not sure of the +name of this trail) and crossed what is known as Beard's Lake. They +crossed Little River at Ward's Ferry and crossed the Saline river. +Traveling northwest they reached White Oak shoals where Index is now and +crossed over into what was Mexico and traveled to a place called Kawaki +located where [TR: ?] now is. + +"After camping here for a while they came back into Arkansas to some +point near Rando, crossed Red River at Dooley's Ferry, went to Coola +Fabra(?) and back to Boiling Springs. [Here a gold mine was found and +a quarrel ensued, and in a fight De Soto was killed.] They carried +his body overland and buried him in the Mississippi River between +Grensville[HW:sp.] and Vicksburg. [TR: Moved from end of interview: De +Soto was buried at the junction of the Mississippi and [??] Rivers, +about 100 miles south of Vicksburg.] The remaining forces of the +expedition returned to Spain. + +"Sometime in 1816 my mother's mother was born. My mother's mother was +Spanish. My mother says she was well educated. Mother and her mother +have Spanish mixed with Negro blood. I had a sister named Mary and a +brother named John. + +"Armarilla, my grandmother came here from Cuba through to Gaines +Landing. Her son Edmin and her husband were with her. They crossed the +Mississippi River and she said they stopped at the old De Soto camp. A +short distance west of this place they met two men--Nick Trammel and +John Morrow who profitted (dealt) in Negro slaves. My grandfather and +mother employed these men to guide them to Coola Fabre(?) Camden?. From +Little River to Dooley's Ferry these men carried them to Waco, Texas. +They killed my grandfather and kept my grandmother forcing her to marry +either a half-breed Mexican, an Indian or a Negro. It was near Waco in +Hickman[HW:sp.] Prairie that mother was born. The boy Edmin was returned +to Dooley's Ferry and remained in the vicinity until he was about +seventeen years of age. He then lived in the vicinity of Little Rock +about six months before returning to Mexico. My grandmother said that +Mr. Trammel and Mr. Morrow probably thought he might cause trouble and +killed him as she never saw him after he returned from Little Rock. +Mother was held in Lafayette County at a point where the river crossed +and joined Bowie County (Texas) and where Louisiana bounded the south. + +"De Soto traveled by land, not by boat. He had a force of about 550 +persons. The women dressed as men. My grandmother was with her husband. + +"My mother was a slave. She was held in Bowie County, Hickens[HW:sp.] +Prairie, by Bob Trammel. They kept her locked up and I have heard mother +say that she used whale bone, card bats and a spinning wheel. Finally +they got so hot behind the Trammels in 1847-48, they pulled up stakes +and went down on the Guadalupe River and carried my mother's mother down +there. Before they left Dave Block went on Trammel's bond and got my +mother. He made my mother head housekeeper slave. She had been taught +Spanish. She was tall and fair with straight black hair. She was married +to Dick Samuels, my father. + +"After the war my father was elected [HW: Hempstead] County Clerk in +1872 on the Republican ticket. He could neither read nor write, so +was clerk in name only securing one of the white men to attend to the +office. By trade he was a blacksmith." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Uncle Bob Samuels is the son of Richard Samuels and Mary. He was a slave +of David Block. After freedom he came to Little Rock with a sister and a +brother, John. Uncle Bob said he often heard his mother speak of a gold +mine. She had a trunk of maps and charts which her mother had given to +her. In this was supposed to be the papers regarding De Soto's legendary +gold mine. The trunk had been lost as Uncle Bob has no idea where the +gold mine is. He tells the story the same way, never varying a point. He +does not claim to remember Indian trails or names. + +Uncle Bob is tall and straight. He is blind. Was clean in appearance +dressed in slightly faded overalls. He has a short, clean grey beard. He +talks with a clear accent, no Negro accent. During Reconstruction days +he served as County Clerk of Hempstead County under Carpetbaggar rule. +During those days he was a political power to be reckoned with. He was +a national as well as a state figure in the "Lily White Republican" +organization. [His wife was a Negro, good looking, but showed little +trace of much white blood.] + + + + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person Interviewed: Emma Sanderson +Home: 617 Wade Street, Hot Springs. +Aged: 75 + + +"Emma Sanderson"--"Wade Street". That was all the prospective +interviewer could learn. "Emma Sanderson--ex-slave!" "Wade Street"--"Why +it's way off that way. You go sort of thatta way, and then thatta way." + +A city map disclosed no Wade Street. Maps belonging to a local +abstractor helped not a whit. "Insurance maps are in more detail." +someone advised, "Wade Street," mused the young woman at the desk, "I've +heard of it. We have written a policy for someone there." The head of +the department was new to the city, but he was eager to help. After +about five minutes search--from wall maps to bound volumes of blocks +and back again it appeared that "Wade Street" more frequently known as +"Washington Street" meanders wanderingly from Silver Street, in the +colored section out to the "Gorge addition" inhabited by low economic +level whites. + +Down Malvern Avenue (Hot springs' Beale Street) went the interviewer. On +she went past the offices of a large Chicago packing house. For better +then a block she trudged by dilapidated shops which a few seasons back +had housed one of the key transient centers of the U.S.A. Down the +street she walked, pausing for a moment to note that coffee colored +faces decorated the placards in the beauty shop window--two well groomed +mulatto girls sitting inside, evidently operators. Her course took her +past sandwich joints and pool halls. Nails, she noted as she drifted +along, had been driven into the projection beneath the plate glass +window of the brick bank (closed during the depression--a building and +bank built, owned and operated by negro capital) to keep loungers away. +The colored theater (negroes are admitted only to the balconies of +theaters in Hot Springs--one section of the balcony at the legitimate +theater) she noticed was now serving as a religious gathering place. The +well built and excellently maintained Pythian Bath house (where the hot +waters are made available to colored folk) with the Alice Eve Hospital +(45 beds, 5 nurses, 2 resident physicians--negro doctors thruout the +town cooperating--surgical work a specialty) stood out in quiet dignity. +For the rest, buildings were an indiscriminate hodge-podge of homes, +apartment houses, shacks, and chain groceries. At the corner where "the +street turns white" the interviewer turned east. + +The Langston High School (for colored--with a reputation for turning out +good cooks, football players and academicians) stands on Silver Street. +A few paces from the building the interviewer met a couple of plump +colored women laughing and talking loudly. + +"I beg your pardon," was her greeting, "can you tell me where Wade +Street is?" They could and did. They were so frankly interested in +knowing why the white women wanted Emma Sanderson that she told them +her mission. They were not taken aback--there was no servility--no +resentment they were frankly charmed with the idea. Their directions for +finding Mrs. Sanderson became even more explicit. + +When the proper turn off was found the question of Wade versus +Washington Street was settled. A topsy-turvy sign at the intersection +announced that Wade Street was ahead. Emma Sanderson's grandson lived a +couple of blocks down the road. + +Only the fact that she could hear someone inside moving about kept the +interviewer hammering on the door. Finally she was rewarded by a voice. +"Is that somebody a' knockin'?" In a moment the door opened. The +question, "Were you a slave" no matter how delicately put is a difficult +one to ask, but Mrs. Sanderson was helpful, if doubtful that her story +would do much good. "I was just so little when it all happened." But the +interviewer was invited in and placed in a chair near the fire. + +"No ma'am. He ain't my grandson--I's the third grandmother. No son, you +ain't three--you's five. Don't you remember what I told you? Yes, he +stays with me, ma'am. I take care of him while the rest of 'em works. + +"It's hard for me to remember. I was just so little. Yes, ma'am, I was +born a slave--but I was so little. Seems to me like I remember a big, +big house. We was sort of out in the country---out from Memphis. I know +there was my father and my mother and my uncles and my aunts. I know +there was that many. How many more of us old man Doc Walker had--I just +don't know. They must have took good care of us tho. My mother was a +house nigrah. + +"When the war was ready to quit they gave us our pick. We could stay on +and work for wages or we could go. The folks decided that the'd go on in +to Memphis. My Mother and Father didn't live together none after we went +to town. First I lived with Mother and then when she died my Father took +me. My mother died when I was 9. She worked at cooking and washing. When +I was big enough I went to school. I kept on going to school after my +Father took me. He died when I was about 15. By that time I was old +enough to look out after myself. + +"What did I do? I stayed in folkses houses. I cooked and I washed. Then +when I was about 16, I married. After that I had a man to take care of +me. He was a carpenter. + +"We been here in Hot Springs a long time--you maybe heared of +Sanderson--he took up platering and he was good too. How long I been in +Hot Springs--law I don't know--'cept I was a full grown women when we +come. + +"I's had four children--all of 'em is dead. I lives with my grandson. +The little fellow, he'll be old enough to go to school in a year or two. +A dime for him ma'am--an' 2 cents besides? Now son you keep the dime and +you can spend the pennies. I always tries to teach him to save. Then +when he gets big he'll know what to do." + +Dining room and living room joined one another by means of a high and +wide arch. The stove was sensibly set up in this passage. Both rooms +were comfortably furnished with products which had in all probability +been bought new. The child stood close by thruout the entire +conversation. There was no whit of timidity about him, nor was he the +least impertinent. He was frankly interested and wanted to know what was +being said. He received the dime and the pennies with a pleasant grin +and a (grandmother prompted) "Thank you". But the gift didn't startle +him. Dimes must have been a fairly usual part of his life. But a few +minutes before the interviewer left she dropped her pencil. It was new +and long and yellow. The child's eyes clung to it as he returned it. +"Would you like to have it." the young woman asked, "would you like a +pencil of your very own, to draw with?" Would he! The child's whole face +beamed. Dimes were as nothing compared to shiney new pencils. The third +grandchild was overjoyed with his new plaything. Ella Sanderson was +delighted with her great grandchild's pleasure. The interviewer received +a warm and friendly "Good-bye". + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Mary Scott + DeValls Bluff or Biscoe +Age: + + +"I said if ever I seed you agin I'd show you dis here scar on my head. +See here [a puffed-out, black, rusty, not quite round place, where no +hair grew]. Dat dar what my young mistress put on me when I was a chile. +Dock Hardy hired me. He was rich and married a pore gal. It went to her +head. He was good to me. She was mean. She had him whoop me a time or +two for nothin'. They had two little babies, I stayed round wid. I loved +em. I churned, brought in all the wood mighty near, brought bout all the +water from the spring. Master Dock be coming horseback from Franklin, +Tennessee. I knowed bout time I take the babies to meet him. He'd wait +at a big stump we could climb on his horse, take the baby in front and +us up behind him, and put us off on the back piazza at the house. I +wrapped up the churn and quit. She ax me what I quit churnin' for. I say +the butter come. She say it ain't had time. I say it ready to take up +anyhow. She got so mad she throwed a stick of stove wood, hit me on +my head. I run out crying, the blood streamin' down. I started to the +spring, come back and got the water bucket. I got me some water and +brought back a fresh bucket full. I washed my head in cool water where +it was bleedin'. It bled all way back. She say, 'Where you been?' I say +I been to the spring, brought some cool water to the babies. I give em +some I told her. When I got water I always give them some. She took the +bucket, made me go wid her, poured the water out in the path under a +shade tree, and made me take 'nother bucketful home. I thought she was +so mean; I didn't know what she was doing that about. Got to the house +she put me on a clean chemisette. I slipped off down to the feed house, +lay down, my head on the cotton seeds, and went to sleep. + +"When Master Dock come he woke me up, wanted to know why I didn't meet +him. He seen that blood. Went on to the house. He ask her what done my +head that way. She say, 'She went to the spring, fell down, spilled the +water, and hurt it on a rock.' I told him that wasn't so--not so! I told +him all bout it. He told her she ought to be 'shamed treat good little +nigger chap mean. He was so sorry for me. She didn't care. They had been +goin' to old missis house every week. It was three weeks 'fo she would +go. I got to see my mama, 'fo she died. + +"Old Mistress Emily was a doctor woman. Dock told her, 'Mama, Scrubbs +jumps and screams bout a hour late every evening wid her head.' When it +got late it hurt and I screamed and jump up and down. Mistress Emily +come got me in her arms, put me to sleep. When I woke up Dock and Kitty +gone home with the babies. I cried bout being from the babies; I loved +em, never been away from em 'fo. She got three maggots and says, +'Scrubbs, see what I got out your little head.' Mama had died then. She +say, 'Your mama would want me to keep you here wid me.' She kept me till +it healed up. Them maggots big as a sage broom straw. We swept the floor +wid sage straw tied together then. Mistress Emily kept me a month with +her and doctored my head every day. I slept on a pallet and on a little +bed she had in the room. When I went back to Kitty's she wasn't as mean +to me as she been--but mean nough then. + +"My mama named Amy Hardy. She had five boys, three girls. She died with +a young baby. I reckon they had different papas. I was my papa's only +chile. They all said that. Bout a month after I went to Dock and +Kitty's, it was surrender. He (the little Negro girl's father) come, +stayed all night, and took me wid him to live. Dock wanted me to stay; I +love Dock and the children. Every year till a few years ago my head get +sore and run. We tried all kinds medicine on it. Don't know what cured +it. + +"The week 'fo I left there I had a task to make a cut of thread every +night, a reel. When I heard papa was coming to git me, I put cotton bats +under the reels and kivered em up. Good thing papa got me--Kitty would +killed me when she went to spin next week. She been so mean why I done +that way. + +"They never sold any of our set but some on the place was sold. The +mothers grieve and grieve over their children bein' sold. Some white +folks let their slaves have preachin', some wouldn't. We had a bush +arbor and set on big logs. Children set round on the ground. 'Fo freedom +I never went to preachin'. I kept Kitty's babies so she went. Mothers +didn't see their children much after they was sold. + +"Fo freedom they would turn a wash pot upside-down at the door and have +singin' and prayer meetin'. The pot would take up the noise. They done +that when they danced too. I don't know how they found out the iron pot +would take up the noise. They had plenty of em settin' round in them +days. Somebody found it out and passed it on." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mollie Hardy Scott, R.F.D., DeValls Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 90 + + +"I was born at Granville, Georgia in Franklin County. I don't know my +age cept I was big enough to plow when young master lef and went to war. +My mother died bout time the war started. We belonged to Miss Eliza and +Master Jim Hardy. He had two boys bout grown, Jim and John. My father +belong to the Linzys. I don't know nuthin much bout them nor him +neither. When the war was done he come and got me and we went to Barton +County, Georgia. When I lef they give me my feather bed, two good +coverlets and my clothes. White folks hated fo me to leave. We all cried +but I never seen em no more. They said he take me off and let me suffer +or die or something. I was all the child my father had but my mother had +ten children I knowed of. We all lived on the place. They lived in a +little log house and I stayed wid em some an up at white folks house +mostly. No I never seed my folks no more. We had plenty to eat. Had meat +and garden stuff. We had pot full of lye hominy. It last several days. +It was good. I seed em open up a pot full of boiled corn-on-the-cob. +Plenty milk and butter. We had wash pot full of collards or turnip +salad. Maybe a few turnips on top and a big piece of fresh meat. We +had plenty to eat and wear long as I lived wid the white folks. We had +goobers, molasses candy to pull and pop corn every now and then. They +fill all the pockets, set around the fire an eat at night. Sometimes we +bake eggs and sweet potatoes, cracklin hoe cake covered up in the ashes. +Bake apples in front of the fire on de hearth. Everybody did work an we +sho had plenty to eat an wear. + +"I had plenty when I stayed at my father's an we worked together all the +time. When he died I married. I've had a hard time not able to work. +There ain't no hard time if yous able to get bout. I pieces quilts an +sells em now. Sells em if I can. For $150 piece (has no idea of money +value). Some women promissed to come git 'em but they ain't come yet. I +wanter buy me some shoes. I could do a heap if they send fo me. I can +nurse. I kept a woman's children when she teached last year (Negro +woman's children). + +"I brought four or five when I come to Arkansas of my own. They all dead +but my one girl I lives wid. + +"Seemed lack so many colored folks coming out West to do better. We +thought we come too. We come on immigrate ticket on the train. All the +people I worked for was Captain Williams, Dr. Givens. Mr. Richardson +right where Mesa is now but they called it 88 then (88 miles from +Memphis). Mr. Gates. I farmed, washed and ironed. I nursed some since +I'm not able to get about in the field. I never owned nothing. They run +us from one year till the next and at the end of the year they say we +owe it bout all. If we did have a good crop we never could get ahead. We +couldn't get ahead nuff not to have to be furnished the next year. We +did work but we never could get ahead. If a darky sass a white land +owner he would be whooped bout his account or bout anything else. Yes +siree right here in dis here county. Darky have to take what the white +folks leave fo em and be glad he's livin. + +"I say I ain't never voted. Whut in de world I would want er vote for? +Let em vote if they think it do em good. + +"I seen a whole gang of Ku Kluxes heap of times when I was little back +in Georgia. I seed paddyrollers and then they quit and at night the Ku +Kluxes rode by. They would whoop or shoot you either if you didn't tend +to yo own business and stay at home at night. They kept black and white +doing right I tell you. I sho was afraid of them but they didn't bother +us. If you be good whose ever place you lives on would keep 'em from +harmin you. They soon got all the bad Yankies ran back North from +Georgia. They whip the black men and women too but it was mostly the men +they watched and heap of it was for stealing. Folks was hungry. Couldn't +help stealin if they seed anything. I seed heap of folks having a mighty +hard time after the war in them restruction (Reconstruction) days. I was +lucky. + +"My daughter would do mo than she do fo me but she is a large woman and +had both her legs broke. They hurt her so bad it is hard fo her to do +much. She good as she can be to everybody. The Welfare give three of us +$10.00 a month (daughter, husband, and Mollie). We mighty glad to get +that. We sho is. I am willin to work if I could get work I could do. +That's my worst trouble. Like I tell you, I can nurse and wash dishes if +I could get the jobs. + +"I don't see much of the real young folks. I don't know what they are +doing much. If a fellow is able he ought to be able to do good now if he +can get out and go hunt up work fo himself. That the way it look like. I +don't know." + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Sam Scott, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"Hello dar, Mistah L----! Don' you dare pass by widout speakin' to dis +old niggah friend of yo' chil'hood! No suh! Yuh can't git too big to +speak to me! + +"Reckon you've seen about all dar is to see in de worl' since I seen +you, ain't you? Well, mos' all de old-time niggahs and whites is both +gone now. I was born on de twentieth of July, 1879. Count up--dat makes +me 79 (born 1859), don't it? My daddy's name was Sam, same as mine, and +mammy's was Mollie. Dey was slaves on de plantation of Capt. Scott--yes +suh, Capt. John R. Homer Scott--at Dover. My name is Sam, same as my +father's, of course. Everybody in de old days knowed Sam Scott. My +father died in slavery times, but mother lived several years after. + +"No, I never did dance, but I sure could play baseball and make de home +runs! My main hobby, as you calls it, was de show business. You remember +de niggah minstrels we used to put on. I was always stage manager +and could sing baritone a little. Ed Williamson and Tom Nick was de +principal dancers, and Tom would make up all de plays. What? Stole a +unifawm coat of yours? Why, I never knowed Tom to do anything like that! +Anyway, he was a good-hearted niggah--but you dunno what he might do. +Yes, I still takes out a show occasionally to de towns around Pope +and Yell and Johnson counties, and folks treat us mighty fine. Big +crowds--played to $47.00 clear money at Clarksville. Usually take about +eight and ten in our comp'ny, boys and gals--and we give em a real hot +minstrel show. + +"De old show days? Never kin forgit em! I was stage manager of de old +opery house here, you remember, for ten years, and worked around de +old printin' office downstairs for seven years. No, I don't mean stage +manager--I mean property man--yes, had to rustle de props. And did we +have road shows dem days! Richards & Pringle's Georgia minstrels, de +Nashville students, Lyman Twins, Barlow Brothers Minstrels, and--oh, +ever so many more--yes, Daisy, de Missouri Girl, wid Fred Raymond. Never +kin forgit old black Billy Kersands, wid his mouf a mile wide! + +"De songs we used to sing in old days when I was a kid after de War +wasn't no purtier dan what we used to sing wid our own minstrel show +when we was at our best twenty-five and thirty years ago; songs like +'Jungletown,' 'Red Wing,' and 'Mammy's Li'l Alabama Coon.' Our circuit +used to be around Holla Bend, Dover, Danville, Ola, Charleston, Nigger +Ridge, out from Pottsville, and we usually starred off at the old opery +house in Russellville, of course. + +"I been married, but ain't married now. We couldn't git along somehow. +Yes suh, I been right here workin' stiddy for a long time. Been janitor +at two or three places same time; was janitor of de senior high school +here for twenty-two years, and at de Bank of Russellville twenty-nine +years. + +"Folks always been mighty nice to me--and no slave ever had a finer +master dan old Captain Scott. + +"In de old show days de manager of de opery always said. 'Let de +niggers see de show,' and sometimes de house was half full of colored +folks--white folks on one side de house and niggahs on de other--and +dere never was any disturbance of any kind. Ain't no sich good times now +as we had in de old road show days. No suh!" + + + +NOTE: Sam Scott, who has been personally known to the interviewer +for many years, is above the average of the race for integrity and +truthfulness. His statement that he was born a few years after slavery +and that his father died during slavery was not questioned the matter +being a delicate personal affair and of no special moment. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Cora Scroggins, Clarendon, Arkansas +Age: 48 or 50 + + +"My mother was born in Spring Hill, Tennessee and brought to Arkansas by +her master. Her name was Margaret. Dr. and Mrs. Porter brought my mother +to Batesville, Arkansas when she was eight years old and raised her. She +was very light. She had long straight hair but was mixed with white. She +never knew much about her parents or people. + +"Mr. William Brook (white) came to De Valls Bluff from Tennessee and +brought her sister soon after the War. She was a very black woman. + +"Dr. Porter had a family. One of their daughters was Mrs. Mattie Long, +another Mrs. Willie Bowens. There were others. They were all fine to my +mother. She married in Dr. Porter's home. Mrs. Porter had learnt her to +sew. My father was a mechanic. My mother sewed for both black and white. +She was a fine dressmaker. She had eight children and raised six of us +up grown. + +"My father was a tall rawbony brown man. His mother was an Indian squaw. +She lived to be one hundred seven years old. She lived about with her +children. The white folks all called her 'Aunt Matildy' Tucker. She was +a small woman, long hair and high cheek bones. She wore a shawl big as a +sheet purty nigh all time and smoked a pipe. I was born in Batesville. + +"My mother spoke of her one long journey on the steamboat and +stagecoach. That was when she was brought to Arkansas. It made a +memorable picture in her mind. + +"Dr. and Mrs. Porter told her she was free and she could go or stay. And +she had nowheres to go and she had always lived with them white folks. +She never did like black folks' ways and she raised us near like she was +raised as she could. + +"She used to tell us how funny they dressed and how they rode at night +all through the country. She seen them and she could name men acted as +Ku Kluxes but they never bothered her and she wasn't afraid of them. + +"I cooked all my life till I got disabled. I never had a child. I wish I +had a girl. I've been considered a fine cook all of my life." + + + + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Bernice Bowden +ADDRESS--1006 Oak Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +DATE--November 4, 1938 +SUBJECT--Ex-slaves +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Sarah Sexton, Route 4, Box 685, Pine +Bluff + +2. Date and time of interview--November 3, 1958, 10:00 a.m. + +3. Place of interview--Route 4, Box 685, Pine Bluff, Arkansas + +4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant--Georgia Caldwell, Route 6, Box 128, Pine Bluff, Arkansas. + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you--None. + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.--Frame house, front +porch with two swings. Fence around yard. Chinaberry tree and Tree of +Paradise, Coxcomb in yard. Southeast of Norton-Wheeler Stave Mill just +off Highway 65. + + +Text of Interview + +"Prewitt Tiller bought my mother and I belonged to young master. In +slavery I was a good-sized-young girl, mama said. Big enough to put the +table cloths on the best I could. After freedom I did all the cookin' +and milkin' and washin'. + +"Now listen, this young master was Prewitt's son. + +"Grandpa's name was Ned Peeples and grandma was Sally Peeples. My mother +was Dorcas. Well, my papa, I ain't never seed him but his name was Josh +Allen. You see, they just sold 'em around. That's what I'm talkin' +about--they went by the name of their owners. + +"I'm seventy-eight or seventy-nine or eighty. That's what the insurance +man got me up. + +"I been in a car wreck and I had high blood pressure and a stroke all at +once. And that wreck, the doctor said it cracked my skull. Till now, I +ain't got no remembrance. + +"You know how long I went to school? Three days. No ma'm I had to work, +darlin'. + +"I was born down here on Saline River at Selma. I done forgot what +month." + +"What kinda work have I done? Oh, honey, I done farmed myself to death, +darlin'. You know Buck Couch down here at Noble Lake? Well, I hoped pick +out eight bales of cotton for him. + +"I wish I had the dollars I had workin' for R.A. Pickens down here at +Walnut Lake. Yes, honey, I farmed for him bout fifteen or twenty years +steady. + +"And he sure was nice and he was mischievous. He called all of us his +chillun. He use to say, 'Now you must mind your papa!' And we'd say 'Now +Mr. Pickens, you know you ain't got no nigger chillun'. He use to say to +me 'Sallie, you is a good woman but you ain't got no sense'. Them was +fine white folks. + +"Honey, these white folks round here what knows me, knows they ain't a +lazy bone in my body. + +"I'se cooked and washed and ironed and I'se housecleaned. Yes'm, I +certainly was a good cook. + +"I belongs to the Palestine Baptist Church. Yes ma'm. I don't know what +I'd do if twasn't for the good Master. I talks to Him all the time. + +"I goes to this here government school. A man teaches it. I don't know +what his name is, we just calls him Professor. + +"Well, chile, I'll tell you the truf. These young folks is done gone. +And some o' these white headed women goes up here truckin'. It's a sin +and a shame. I don't know what's gwine come of 'em." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This woman lives with her daughter Angelina Moore who owns her home. + +Mother and daughter both attend government school. Both were neatly +dressed. The day was warm so we sat on the front porch during the +interview. + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--Grandfather, Ned Peeples; grandmother, Sally Peeples; +Mother, Dorcas Peeples; Father, Josh Allen. + +2. Place and date of birth--On Saline River, Selma, Arkansas. No date. + +3. Family--Two daughters and granddaughter. + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Desha County, Walnut Lake, Noble Lake, +(Arkansas) Poplar Bluff, Missouri. No dates. + +5. Education, with dates--Three days, "after freedom". Attends +government school now. + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates--Farmwork, cooking, +laundry work until 1936. + +7. Special skills and interests--Cooking. + +8. Community and religious activities--Member of Palestine Baptist +Church. + +9. Description of informant--Medium height, plump, light complexion and +gray hair. + +10. Other points gained in interview--Injured in auto wreck seven years +ago. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Roberta Shaver, West Memphis, Arkansas +Age: 50 + + +"I was born close to Natchez, Mississippi. Grandma was sold at Wickerson +County, Mississippi. They took her in a wagon to Jackson, Tennessee. She +was mother of two children. They took them. She was part Indian. She was +a farm woman. Her name was Dicy Jackson. They sold her away from the +Jacksons to Dobbins. She was a house woman in Jackson, Tennessee. She +said they was good to her in Tennessee. Grandma never was hit a lick in +slavery. Grandpa was whooped a time or two. He run off to the woods for +weeks and come back starved. He tended to the stock and drove Master +Clayton around. He was carriage driver when they wanted to go places. + +"After freedom grandma set out to get back to grandpa. Walked and rode +too I reckon. She brought her children back. After a absence of +five years she and grandpa went back together. They met at Natchez, +Mississippi. Mama was born after freedom. + +"The way grandma said she was sold was, a strange man come there one day +and the master had certain ones he would sell stand in a line and +this strange man picked out the ones he wanted and had them get their +belongings and put them in the wagon and took them on off. She never +seen grandpa for five years." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mary Shaw + 1118 Palm Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 77 +Occupation: Laundry work + + +"I was born in Bolivar County, Mississippi. My mother didn't know how +old I was but after freedom I went by Miss Ann Blanchet's--that was my +mother's old missis--and she said I was born in 1861. + +"But I don't know nothin' 'bout slavery or the War. I was born and bred +in the desert and my mother said it was a long time after freedom 'fore +she knowed anything about it. She said there was just lots of the folks +said, to their knowin', they had been free three years 'fore they knowed +anything about it. + +"My husband brought me to Arkansas when I was 35 and I been workin' in +the same family, Captain Jeter's family, ever since-forty odd years. + +"I always have worked hard. I've had the flu only reason I'm sittin' +here now. If I had to sit and hold my hands very long, they'd have to +take me to Little Rock. + +"I been married twice. My last husband was Sam Shaw. He was a great +whiskey man and when whiskey went out, he went to bootleggin' and they +got behind him and he left. + +"He wrote me once and said if I'd borrow some money on my home and send +it to him, he'd come back. I wrote and told him just like I'm tellin' +you that after I had worked night and day to pay for this house while +he was off tellin' some other woman lies just like he told me, I wasn't +goin' to send him money. So I ain't seen him since. + +"I ain't never been to school much. When schools got numerous in +Mississippi they had me behind a plow handle. + +"Mrs. Jeter made me mad once and I quit. My first husband was a porter +on the railroad and I got on the train and went to Memphis with him. + +"One time he come back from a trip to Pine Bluff and handed me a little +package. I opened it and it was a note from Mrs. Jeter and a piece of +corn bread. She said, 'Now, Mary, you see what I've had to eat. I want +you to come back.' So I went back and stayed 'til she died. And now I'm +workin' for her daughter, Mrs. McEwen. Mrs. Jeter used to say, 'Mary, +I know you're not a Arkansas woman 'cause you ain't got a lazy bone in +your body.'" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Violet Shaw, West Memphis, Arkansas +Age: 50 + + +"I heard Grandma Katie Williams say she was put up on a high stump and +auctioned off. She told how great-grandma cried and cried and never +seen her no more. Grandma come from Oakland, Tennessee to Mississippi. +Grandma took the two young children and left the other two with +great-grandma. They took her from her husband. She never seen none of +them again. + +"After freedom she didn't know how to find them. She never could get +trace of them. She tried. She never married no more. I was born at +Clarksdale, Mississippi. I have seen Tom Pernell (white), the young +master, come and spend the night with Henry Pernell. Henry had once been +Tom's father's slave and carriage driver. I was too small to know the +cause but I remember that several times mighty well. They fixed him up a +clean bed by hisself. Henry lived in town. But he might have been drunk. +I never seen no misbehavior out of him. It was strange to me to see +that. + +"Freedom--Aunt Mariah Jackson was freed at Dublin, Mississippi. She said +she was out in the field working. A great big white man come, jumped +up on a log and shouted, 'Freedom! Freedom!' They let the log they was +toting down; six, three on a side, had holt of a hand stick toting a +long heavy log. They was clearing up new ground. He told them they was +free. They went to the house. They cooked and et and thanked God. Some +got down and prayed, some sung. They had a time that day. They got the +banjo and fiddle and set out playing. Some got in the big road just +walking. She said they had a time that day." + + + + +Texarkana District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Cecil Copeland +Subject: Ex-Slave + +This information given by: Frederick Shelton +Place of Residence: Dump Section, Texarkana, Arkansas +Occupation: None +Age: 81 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +In an humble cabin on the outskirts of the city lives a venerable old +negro ex-slave. Although bent with rheumatism and age, he still retains +his mental faculties to a remarkable degree. + +An inquiry as to his health elicited the following reply: "I'se a +willful mind but a weak body. Just like an old tree--de limbs are +withered and almost dead. I'se been here a long tins, ovah 81 years, and +am ready to go any time de good Lawd says de word. Dat's de trouble wid +de people nowadays--dey ain't prepared. Back when I wuz a young man, +dey wuzn 't so much meaness, and such goings on as dey are nowadays. De +young-peple know as much as de old folks. Yas, suh, de worl' am goin' to +de dogs." + +Asked about life in pioneer days, the old negro replied; "We had lots +ob good times in dem days. Log rollings wuz lots ob fun to me as I wuz +strong den, an' I could "show off" befo' de odder niggers. Dey wuzn't +much rollin' to it, mostly carrying. I mind de time when I lifted de end +ob a log, an' four men tried at different times to lift de odder, but +dey couldn't do it. Three of dese men went to an early grave from trying +to lift dis log--all tore up inside. Maybe dat's whut ails me. + +"You had to be careful den, when traveling through de woods, or de +varmints would git you, especially at night. I mind de time when a negro +wuz comin' through de woods one nite, when he seed a panther about to +spring on him. + +"Dis nigger dropped in his tracks lack he wuz dead. De panther came up to +him and smelled ob him, but de nigger held his breath, and de panther +thought he wuz dead. De panther covered him wid leaves an' went about +one hundred yards into de woods to call his friends to de feast. No +sooner had he left when de nigger jumped up and climbed a tree, first +rutting an old chunk of wood in de place where he wuz buried. De nigger +could hear de panther out in de woods as he called for his friends, and +pretty soon, here dey come, about five of 'em. Slowly circling aroun' de +place where de nigger had been, all of a sudden dey all jumped. Findin' +nothin' but de old chunk of wood, dem panthers got real mad. Wid angry +growls, dey jumped on de one whut had called dem, and ate him up." + +This old negro reserves all of the heroic roles for others. Asked if he +had had any experience with the "varmints", as he termed them he said: +"Yas, suh. De worst scared I ever got wuz frum a wolf. Walkin' down a +trail one day, I spied a wolf not more than ten feet away. Man, I wuz so +scared dat I seemed to freeze in my tracks, and couldn't move. I tried +to holler but all I could do wuz croak. Den I tried to whistle but de +only sound I could make wuz a hiss. After standing for whut seemed +hours, wid his ears sticking straight up, de wolf finally turned around +and trotted away." + +The conversation drifted to other topics, and finally to ghosts and +spirits. The old negro said he had never seen a ghost, and didn't +believe in those things. No sooner had he said this when his wife, who +had been listening in on the conversation from the inside of the door +exclaimed: "I does! Seein' is believin' aint it? Well suh, about two +years ago de negro dat lived next door died. A few weeks after he died I +wuz settin' out on de porch when I see dis negro come out of de house, +and walk slowly to de corner of mah yard where he vanished into de air. +A few nights later de same thing happened again. No suh, dat nigger +didn't go to Heaven and he didn't go to Hell. He's still around heah. He +wuz a wicked negro and wuz scared to go." + + + + +Circumstances of interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Samuel S. Taylor +ADDRESS--Little Rock, Arkansas +DATE--December, 1938 +SUBJECT--Ex-slave +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Laura Shelton, 1518 Pulaski Street, +Little Rock, Arkansas. + +2. Date and time of interview interview-- + +3. Place of interview--1518 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas. + +4. Name and address of person, if any who put you in touch with +informant-- + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you-- + +Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.-- + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--mother, Susan Barnett; father, Ben Bearden; grandfather, +Harvey Barnett. + +2. Place and date of birth--Arkansas, 1878 + +3. Family--Three children. + +4. Education, with dates-- + +5. Places lived in with dates--Jerome, Arkansas and Little Rock. No +dates. + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates--Farmed, wash and iron. + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities--Belongs to Baptist Church. + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview-- + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"My mother used to sit down and talk to us and tell us about slavery. +If she had died when I was young I wouldn't have known much. But by her +living till I was old, I learned a lot. + +"My mother's old master was Tom Barnett, so she said. No, not 'so she +said' because I have seed him. He give her her age and all at that +time. I have it in my Bible. He said that she was twelve years old the +Christmas before the surrender. The surrender was in May, wasn't it? + +"My mother's name was Susan Bearden. She married Ben Bearden. She worked +in Tom Barnett's house. She milked and churned and 'tended to the +children and all such as that. He never allowed her to go to the field. +Neither her mother, my grandmother. She was the cook. My mother's name +before she married was Susan Barnett. + +"An old colored lady that they had there seed after the colored +children. She looked after my mother too. She was so old she couldn't do +nothin' so they had her to look after the children. My grandmother was +kept busy because she had the white folks to cook for and she had all +the colored folks to cook for too. + +"There is an old lady down on Spring Street that can give you a lot of +information about slavery times. + +"A boy was telling her that somebody was going 'round asking questions +about slavery and she said she wished he would come and see her. + +"My mother never had any chance to go to school before freedom and she +never had any chance to go afterwards because she didn't have any money. +When they turned them loose the white folks didn't give 'em anything, so +they had to work. They didn't allow them to pick up a piece of paper in +slave time for fear they would learn. + +"My mother remembered the pateroles. She said they used to catch and +whip the colored men and women when they would get out. + +"My mother's old master was the one that told mama she was free. He told +her she was free as he was. After they learned that they were free, they +stayed on till Christmas. + +"After Christmas, they went to another plantation. My gran'pa, he come +and got them all to come. My gran'pa's name was Harvey Barnett. His old +master's son had married and he had been staying with him. That made +him be on another place. There was a good many of the children in my +grandmother's family. Mama had a sister named Lucy, one named Lethe, +one named Caroline, one named Annie, and one named Jane. She had two +boys--one named Jack, and one named Barnett. She had another sister +named--I don't remember her name. + +"After freedom, we sharecropped for a number of years up until my father +died. He died about twenty-four years ago. + +"After that mama washed and ironed for about ten or twelve years. Then +she got too old to work and we took care of her. My mother died last +March on the ninth day. She always had good health for an old lady. +Never got so she couldn't get up and do her light work such as dress +herself, cooking, sweeping, and so on. She would even do her own washing +and ironing if we would let her. She would hide from us and pick cotton +till we stopped her. + +"She was sick only one week and the doctor said she died of old age. He +said it was just her time. She didn't have nothin' the matter with her +but jus' old age he said so far as he could find. Dr. Fletcher was +our doctor. She died in Jerome, Arkansas about sixteen miles from the +Louisiana line. Leastwise, they tell me it's about sixteen miles from +the line. She always told us that she had her business fixed with the +Lord and that when she taken sick, It wouldn't be long. And sure 'nough, +it wasn't. + +"I farmed until my mother and brother died. Then I came up here with my +sister as I had no children living. I jus' wash and iron now whenever I +can get somethin' to do. + +"I have been married once. I had three children. All of them are dead. +My children are dead and my husband is dead. + +"I belong to the Baptist church down on Spring Street. I always unite +with the church whenever I go to a place. I don't care whether I stay +there or not. + +"My mama's master was good as far as white folks generally be in slavery +times. He never whipped my grandmother nor my mother. He was good to the +field hands too. He never whipped them. He would feed them too. He had +right smart of field hands but I don't know just how many. I don't think +he ever sold any of his slaves. I think he come by them from his father +because I have heard them say that his father told him before he died +never to 'part with Black Mammy. That was what he called her. And he +kept them altogether jus' like his father told him to. His father said, +'I you to keep all my Negroes together and Black Mammy I don't want you +let her be whipped because she nursed all of you.' She said she never +was whipped 'cept once when she got a cockle berry up her nose and he +got it out and gave her a little brushing--not as much as grandma would +have given her. + +"He kept them all in good shoes and warm clothes and give them plenty to +eat. So many of the slaves on other plantations didn't have half enough +to eat and were half naked and barefooted all the time." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mahalia Shores, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 77 + + +"I was born in Greene County, Georgia. My owner was Jim Jackson. He +bought my mother's father. She was raised on Jim Jackson's place. I +rec'collect a right smart about slavery times. He made us dress up and +let the nigger traders see what little niggers I got. We thought it +was nice. What fine limbs we had. Aunt Judy--some called her 'big +mamma'--lived down under the hill. She was old and seen after the +children. The biggest children took care and nursed the little ones. +On Wednesday and Saturday the cook made ginger cakes for the little +children. The house girl called us. She was Aunt Teena's girl. Aunt +Teena was a housemaid. See little niggers coming from every direction to +get our cakes. + +"Jim Jackson's wife was named Mariah. They lived in a big fine white +house. When it was freedom a soldier come, brought a paper and Massa Jim +was settin' on the porch. Tom Chapman was his overseer. They rung the +big farm bell and had the oldest niggers stand in a line and us little +ones in front so we could all see. Tom Chapman read the paper and stood +by the soldier. He had two big plantations. Massa Jim got sick that day +and vomited and vomited. He lived a week or two weeks. They sent for Dr. +Ducham but he couldn't do him no good. He died. Massa Jim told them they +could take the teams and go to town, all he ax of 'em was to feed and +take care of 'em. Every one of the grown folks went and left us at home. +Aunt Judy seen 'bout us like she been doing all the time. They went over +to Greensboro to celebrate. They all come back. They was all ready fer +their breakfastes. It was twelve miles from Greensboro. Then the next +day Massa Jim or Tom Chapman, one called the grown folks to the house +and told them, 'You can stay and I will pay you or you can go. I pay +no more doctor bills. I don't feed you no more nor give you no +more clothes.' Some moved and some hired to him. Some went to his +father-in-law's place and some to his brothers' place and around. +His wife was rich. She was Dave Butler's gal. No, I mean Massa Jim's +wife--Miss Mariah. That big place was what her pa give her. Massa Jim +had five hundred little niggers on that place and lots more on the big +plantation. He had about two thousand little niggers. We went in droves +is right. + +"I never went to a table in slavery time. We had our plates and cup and +took it to the pot and they put some victuals in 'em, then we went and +et where we pleased. We had all the meat we could eat and all the milk +we could drink all the time. Aunt Teena sewed and grandma would weave +cloth. They made white aprons. My hair was nice and old mistress would +tell Aunt Judy to curl my hair. They rolled it up on cloth and on little +light cobs. If they wet it, it would stay curled. + +"Massa Jim sold his niggers when he wanted to. He sold my grandpa and +Uncle Steve. Grandma wanted him to sell her and he wouldn't do it. I +don't know what become of grandpa. After freedom Uncle Steve come back +to us all. Grandpa was crying. He come to our house and said he had to +go. We never seen him no more. + +"Some of the slaves wouldn't be whooped by Tom Chapman. I heard them say +since I got grown he 'tacked 'em. It caused trouble. He couldn't whoop +'em then. Old master whooped some of 'em. Some would say, 'I take ten +licks offen you and that is all.' Then he would sell them the first +chance. They would go to the woods if he beat them too much. He didn't +abuse his niggers. He said his niggers was his property. Aunt Sarah +tended to the cows and Aunt Clarisa raised geese, turkeys, chickens, +ducks, and churned. + +"The Ku Klux come to our house, called Uncle Billy--that was my papa. +They got him up out of bed. One man said, 'I ain't had no water since +the battle of Shiloah.' He had pa draw water till daybreaking. He had +a horn he poured the water in. We was all scared half to death. Next +morning there was a branch from the well done run off. Something took +place about a well. Uncle Neel Anderson and Uncle Cush dug wells for +their living. They come after them. Aunt Mandy had a baby. They pitied +her and Uncle Neel got so scared he run upstairs in his shirt tail and +stuck his head in the cotton. They found him that way. Uncle Cush said, +'Come on, Neel, and go with me.' They whooped Uncle Cush in his shirt +tail. If you didn't open the door they would break it in. + +"I worked in the field in Georgia and Arkansas both. I cooked since I +was twelve years old. I married when I was twenty years old. I cooked +here in Marianna eighteen years and I have cooked three Sunday dinners +on Saturday and Sunday together. I would make three dollars when I done +that. I had five children and I raised one boy. I washed and ironed. I +get some help from the Welfare but I saved and my good old man saved so +we would have plenty when we got old. Folks burnt up two of my houses. I +got three more not fitten to live in till they are covered. I got good +property in Stuttgart but couldn't pay the tax on it and 'bout to loose +it. I tried to get a loan and never could. We niggers have a hard time." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Rosa Simmons + 823 West 13th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85? + + +"Yes mam, I was here during that Civil War. I was fifteen years old +then. I was born In Tennessee. + +"My boss man carried all the best hands to Texas and carried the scrub +hands across Cypress Creek here in Arkansas, and that's where I come. I +was fifteen when the Yankees come in on my boss man's place, so you know +now I ain't no baby. I thank God that He left me here to get old. + +"Before the war. I nussed two babies--my mistress' baby and her sister's +baby. Yes'm we had a good master and mistress. We didn't suffer for +nothin' and we didn't have no overseer over us. Colonel Maples was my +master. No'm he wasn't no soldier--that was the name his mother give +him. + +"When my folks first come to Arkansas we lived in a cabin that just had +a balin' sack hangin' in the door and one night a bear come in and my +brother and I broke a board off the side and fell right out in the cane. +We all hollered so some folks come down and shot the bear. I ain't never +seed a bear before and I didn't know what it was. + +"I 'member when the Yankees come to my boss man's place. They wanted to +shake hands but he was scared to death and wouldn't do it. Another time +the Yankees captured him and kept him three months. They took his horse +and he finally come home on a mule that didn't have but three legs. I +guess the Yankees give him the mule. He turned the old mule loose and +said he never wanted to see another Yankee. If he saw any kind of a +white man comin' down the road he run in the house and hid between the +feather bed and the mattress. + +"One time the Yankees come and drunk the sweet milk and took all the +butter, turkeys and hogs and then broke the powder horn against the +maple tree. + +"The cook say 'I'm gwine tell Marse Joe you drink all this milk.' The +Yankees say, 'Let the damn fool alone--here we are tryin' to free her +and she ain't got no sense.' They said there wouldn't be any more hard +times after the war. + +"But I sure have seen some hard times. I have washed and cooked and done +'bout everything. + +"When I get up in the morning I got the limburger (lumbago) in my back +so I ain't able to do much. Sometimes I have something to eat and +sometimes I don't." + + + + +Mrs. Carol Graham +Mrs. Mildred Thompson +El Dorado District + +Fannie Sims. +Customs. + + +"How ole is ah? Ise about 78. Yes'm ah wuz live durin de wah. Mah ole +moster wuz Mistuh Jake Dumas we lived near de Ouachita rivuh bout five +miles fum El Dorado landin. Ah membush dat we washed at de spring way, +way fum de house. What dat yo say? Does ah know Ca'line. Ca'line, lawsy, +me yes. Ca'line Washington we use tuh call huh, she wuz one uv Mr. Dumas +niggers. We washed fuh de soldiers. Had tuh carry day clo'es tuh dem +aftuh dark. Me an Ca'line had tuh carry dem. We had tuh hide de horse +tuh keep de soldiers fum gittin him. When we would take de horse tuh de +plum orchard we would stay dah all day to dark wid "Blackie". Dat wuz +de horse's name. Mah job mostly wuz tuh watch de chillun an feed mah +mistress chickens. + +"Ah kin recollect when dey took us an started tuh Texas an got as fur +as El Dorado and found out dat us niggers wuz free. We went back +an grandma's mistress's son took us home wid him fuh stretches and +stretches. We lived on de ole Camden road. + +"In mah days ah've done plenty uv work but ah don' do nothing now but +piece quilts. Dat's whut ah've been doing fuh mah white fokes since ah +been heah. Ah jes finished piecing and quiltin two uv em. De Glove[TR:?] +and de Begger. Mah husban' been dead 31 years dis pas' August. No, ah +counts is by dose twins ah raised. One uv em lives in dis heah place +right heah. Ah aint much count now. Sometime mah laig gets so big ah jes +had tuh sloop mah foot erlong." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Jerry Sims (Indian and Negro) + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: Born 1859 + + +"I was born in 1859 close to Natchez, Mississippi. Chief Sims was my +grandpa. He was Indian, full blood. His wife was a Choctaw Indian. +Grandpa was a small red Indian. They kept my pa hid out with stock +nearly all time of the Civil War. Both my mas' parents was nearly all +Indian too but they was mixed. I'm more Indian than anything else. I +heard pa talk about staying in the cane brakes. Mighty few cane brakes +to be found now. I come with my grandpa and grandma to Arkansas when I +was five years old. + +"My ma belong to Quill and Sely Whitaker. I et and slept with Hattie and +Bud and Rob Whitaker. Quill Whitaker was a Union surgeon in the Civil +War. + +"I don't think any of my folks was ever sold. They was of a porer class +and had to have a living and sorter become slaves for a living. I never +heard ma say how she got in bondage. Pa stayed with John Rob bout like a +slave. + +"I am a farmer. I am not on the PWA. Times for me is hard. You see some +has so much and others hardly can live atall. + +"It is not for me to say about the young generation. I have mighty +little to do with any of them. + +"I have voted but not lately. I never did understand voting." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Victoria Sims, Helena, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"I was born in Limestone County, Alabama. It was on a river. Where I was +born they called it Elks Mouth. Our owners was Frank Martin and Liza +Martin. They raised papa. Their daughter aired (heired) him. Her name +was Miss (Mrs.) Betty Hansey. Papa's name was Ed Martin. I stood on a +stool and churned for papa's young mistress. The churn was tall as I +was. I loved milk so good and they had plenty of it--all kinds. Soon as +ever I get through, they take up the butter. I'd set 'round till they +got it worked up so I could get a piece of bread and fresh butter and a +big cup of that fresh milk. They always fixed it for me. + +"Mama was Minthy Martin. She cooked on another place. She was a nurse. +Her papa belong to one person and her mother to somebody else. Mama was +Minthy Bridgeforth but I don't have her owner's name. I guess she was +sold. I heard her say the Bridgeforth's was good to her. Some white man +whooped on her once. I never heard her say much about it. Papa's owners +was good to him. They was crazy about him. I knowed papa's owners the +best and I lived there heap the most. I was born a slave but I don't +know who I belong to. I've studied that over myself. I used to go back +to see papa's owners. They owned lots of slaves and lots of land. Papa +done a lot of different things. He fed and farmed and cleaned off the +yards and slopped the pigs. He done what they said do, well as I can +recollect. I wasn't with mama till after freedom. Mama said her white +folks was treated mighty mean during the War. Once the soldiers come and +mama was so scared she took the baby and run got in the cellar. They +throwed out everything they had to eat. They took off barrels of things +to eat and left them on starvation. One soldier come one time and wanted +mama to go to the camps. She was scared not to go, scared he'd shoot her +down. She told him she'd go the next day soon as she could get up her +things and tell her folks she had gone. He agreed to that. Soon as he +left she and some other young women on the place put out to the cane +brakes and caves. She said they nearly starved. The white folks sent +them baskets of victuals several times. Mama said she had some pretty +beads she wore. Somebody had made her a present of them. She loved 'em. +I think she said they was red. Mama's mistress told her to hide her +beads, the soldiers would take them. She hid them up in the loft of +their house on a nail. One day a gang come scouting and they rummaged +the whole house and place. When the soldiers left she thought about her +beads and went to see and they was gone. She cried and cried about them. +That was before she went to the canebrakes. + +"When freedom come on, the owners told them they was free. They didn't +leave and then they made a way for them to stay on. They stayed on. + +"I was grown when we come to this state but we lived in Tennessee a few +years. Mama had had nine children by that time. All was dead, but us two +girls and my brother. We come to Arkansas with our parents. We heard the +land was new and rich. I wasn't married then. + +"I've worked hard in the field all my life till last year or so. I still +do work. + +"Times is tough here I tell you. I get a little help, six dollars. + +"Some of the young folks won't work, some not able to work. If anybody +saving a thing I don't hear about it." + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Virginia Sims + 1121 N. Magnolia + Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 93 +Occupation: Retired Midwife + + +"I was born in 1844. I was twenty when peace was declared. I was born +in Virginia. Yes ma'am, but I was sold, put up on a stump just like you +sell hogs to the highest speculator. I was sold with my mother from +a man named Joe Poindexter and bought by Tom Murphy and brought to +Arkansas. My God, every Murphy round here knows me. Yes'm, my mother and +me was sold. Papa wasn't sold, but he come here the second year after +surrender. + +"I was old enough to spin twelve cuts a day--had it to do. And I could +weave cloth just like they do now. + +"Had seven brothers and I'm the onliest girl. + +"I can recollect when Miss Mary Poindexter died. They said I was two. + +"My mistis in Arkansas was Mrs. Susan Murphy. That was out on the +plantation, we didn't live in no city--my God, no! + +"The way my people acts now, they looks foolish. I never heard a person +curse till I come up here. I was a grown young lady nineteen years old +when our master lowed us to get out and cote. You better not. The first +husband I married I was nineteen goin' on twenty. My husband fought on +the Southern side. His master sent him as a substitute. + +"My master put good clothes on me, I'd say. 'Master. I wants a dress +like so and so, and I wants a pair of shoes.' Yes ma'am, and he got em +for me. I was forty-three and married to a nigger fore I knowed what +twas to cry for underwear. + +"I member they was a white man called Dunk Hill and he said, 'Virginia, +who freed the niggers?' I said, 'God freed the niggers.' He said, 'Now, +Virginia, you goin' be just as free as I am some day!' + +"General Shelby's troops was comin' on this side the ribber. That's +one time I was scared. Never seed so many men in my life. They wanted +something to eat. Mama cooked all night. They was nine hundred and +somethin'. I toted canteens all night long. + +"I member when they had that Marks Mill battle. My husband was there and +he sent word for me to come cause he had the measles and they had went +in on him. I had to put on boots and wade mud. Young folks now ain't got +no sense. I see so many folks now with such dull understanding. Marks +Mill was the onliest part of the war I was in. + +"General Shelby and Captain Blank, they whetted their swords together +when peace was declared. Captain said, 'General, I'm not crazy and +neither am I a coward. I looked up and seem like a man was comin' out +the clouds, and so I'm goin' to surrender.' + +"Them cavalry men--they'd say, 'Ride!' and how they'd go. + +"I seen em when they was enlistin'. Said they was goin' to whip the +Yankees and be back for breakfast in the morning. + +"Marse Ben was goin' and Miss Susan say, 'Virginia, if you think he +ain't goin' come back you ought to kiss him goodbye.' I said, 'I ain't +goin' to kiss no white man.' + +"Miss Fanny went up the ladder and sot rite on the roof and watched the +soldiers goin' by. Yes'm. Old master whipped me with a little peach +stick cause I let Frankie--we called her Frankie--go up the ladder. I +said I couldn't stop her cause she said if I told her papa, she and +Becky goin' to whip me. He whipped Miss Fanny. Old miss come in and say, +'Ain't you goin' whip this nigger?' She was mean as the devil. Oh, God, +yes. She so mean she didn't know what to do. But old master kep her +down. You know some of these redheaded women, they just as devilish as +they can be. We had some neighbors, Mrs. Davis and Mrs. Daniels and old +miss would be out there on the lawn quarrelin' till it was just like a +fog. Us niggers would be out there listenin'. + +"But I was always treated good. You know if I had been beat over the +head I couldn't recollect things now. My head ain't been cracked up. +Nother thing. I always been easy controlled. + +"I never went to school a day. After we was freed we stayed right on +the Murphy place. They paid us and we worked on the shares. That's the +reason I say I done better when I was a slave." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Senya Singfield + 1613 W. Second Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +"I was born in Washington, Virginia right at the foot of the Blue Ridge +Mountains. My mother was sold when I was a babe in her arms. She was +sold three times. I know one time when she had four children she was +sold and one of my brothers was sold away unbeknownst to her. Her old +master sold her away from her mistress. She was a cook and never was +mistreated. + +"I ain't never been to school. When I got big enough, my mother was a +widow and I had to start out and make a living. I've always been a cook. +Used to keep a boarding house, up until late years. I've washed and +ironed, sewed a right smart and quilted quilts. I've done anything I +could to turn an honest living. Oh I've been through it but I'm still +here. I've been a widow over forty years. + +"I think the folks nowdays are about run out. They are goin' too fast. +When I was comin' up, I had to have some manners. My mother didn't low +me to 'spute nobody." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Peggy Sloan + 2450 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 80, or more +Occupation: Farming + + +"I was born in Arkansas in Tulip, in Dallas County I think it is, isn't +it? + +"Charlotte Evans was mother's name and my father's name was Lige Evans. +Gran'daddy David was my mother's father, and Cheyney was my mother's +mother. + +"Mr. Johnnie Sumner was the name of my young master, and the old man was +Mr. Judge Sumner. The old people are all dead now. Mr. Judge Sumner +was Johnnie Sumner's father. Me and Mr. Johnnie suckled together. Mr. +Johnnie came to Fordyce they say looking for the old slaves. I didn't +know about it then. I never would know him now. That is been so long +ago. I sure would like to see 'im. + +"My mother ain't told me much about herself in slave times. She was a +nurse. She lived in a log cabin. You know they had cabins for all of +them. The colored lived in log houses. The white people had good houses. +Them houses was warmer than these what they got now. + +"My grandma could cut a man's frock-tail coat. These young people don't +know nothin' 'bout that. Grandma was a milliner. She could make anything +you used a needle to make. + +"Lige Evans was the name my father took after the surrender. He wasn't +named that before the surrender--in the olden times. My mother had +fifteen children. She was the largest woman you ever seen. She weighed +four hundred pound. She was young Master Johnnie's nurse. Mr. Johnnie +said he wanted to come and see me. I heard he lives way on the other +side of Argenta somewheres. + +"I was my mama's seventh girl, and I got a seventh girl living. I +had fifteen children. My mother's children were all born before the +surrender. + +"Mr. Judge Sumner and his son were both good men. They never whipped +their slaves. + +"They didn't feed like they do now. I et corn bread then, and I eat +it now. Some people say they don't. They would give them biscuits on +Sundays. They had a cook to cook for the hands. She got all their meals +for them. + +"They had a woman to look after the little colored children, and they +had one to look after the white children. My mother was a nurse for the +white children. My mother didn't have nothing to do with the colored +children. + +"I didn't never have no trouble with the pateroles. Sometimes they would +come down the lane running the horses. When I would hear them, I would +run and git under the bed. I was the scaredest soul you ever seen. I +think that's about all I can remember. + +"I was the mother of fifteen children. I had one set of twins, a boy and +a girl. The doctor told me you never raise a boy and a girl twin. My boy +is dead. All of my children are dead but two. + +"I was raised on the farm. I want a few acres of ground now so bad. + +"I never was married but once. My husband's name was David Sloan. I +don't know exactly how long he and me were married. It was way over +twenty years. My license got burnt up. + +"You know I couldn't be nothin' but a Christian." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Peggy Sloan's memory is going. She is not certain of the number of +children her mother had although she knows there were more than seven +because she was the seventh. + +She remembers nothing about her age, but she knows definitely that all +of her mother's children were born before the War--that is before the +end of the War. Since the War ended seventy-three years ago and she was +the seventh child with possibly seven behind her, I feel that she could +not be younger than eighty. She remembers definitely running at the +approach of men she calls pateroles during "slavery time." + +Her mind may be fading, but it is a long way from gone. She questioned +me closely about my reason for getting statements from her. She had to +be definitely satisfied before the story could be gotten. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Arzella Smallwood + Hazen R.F.D., Green Grove, Arkansas +Age: 60 Doesn't know exact age + + +"I was born about eight miles from Williston, South Carolina. After +freedom my mother married Lee Ballinger and she had six children. He +died when I was real small. My mother was named Hester McCrary. Old +Master McCrary bought grandma and my mother in Virginia. One sister my +mother never did run across after freedom. She was older and sold to +other people. I think at freedom my mother left and I think grandma did +too. My grandpa was half Indian, but I never did see him to remember +what he looked like. Our young master is a doctor. He waited on my +mother before she died. Grandma was blind and she lived with us. Our +young master may still be living. Old mistress was named Sylvania and +she sent for my mother to come wait on her when she got sick to die. I +think they had pretty fair treatment there. My mother was to be a house +girl and cook. I think grandma was a cook and field woman both. + +"I heard them say the white folks took them to church to learn to pray, +then they didn't allow them to pray for freedom. But I don't think they +wanted freedom. After they was set free they died up so scand'lous. +Grandma said they had to work harder. My mother brought a good price +because she was real light color and sharp to learn. She had six +children and we was all darker than she was a whole lots. She and +grandma was both good on giving advice. Seem like they could see how +things would turn out every time. + +"I married a man with a roving nature. We come here. He left me, come +back for me to look after before he died. I married again. I left him. +He told me how I could do five washings a week and take care of us both. +I didn't aim to do it. I mighter got some washings but I didn't aim to +keep him. + +"I get a little commodities along to help out. I'm picking berries now +twenty-five cents a gallon for the first picking. Fifteen and twenty +cents is the regular prices. + +"I haven't got children and I don't know what they ought to do. I reckon +they do the best they can. + +"Times is hard on me. It takes me all the time to make a living." + + + + +Pine Bluff District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Martin & Barker +Subject: Negro Customs + +This information given by: Sarah Smiley (Colored) +Place of Residence: Humphrey, Arkansas +Age: 76 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +I was born the 10th of May, 1860. My home was in Charleston, S.C. I was +not a slave, but my parents were. + +My mother was a seamstress and my father, Edward Barnewill, was butler +for their white folks. + +I looks the door at sundown, and me and God are all by ourselves, and I +am not afraid. + +I came to Sherrill when I was a schoolgirl, and married when I was 14. +Lived here after I was married. Taught school before I was married. + +Had seven children by my first husband. My three husbands were Ike +Williams, Eli Treadvan, and Calvin Smiley. + +When asked about her books standing on her shelves--namely Golden Gems, +arithmetic, and the Bible, also a blue back speller--said she just loved +her books. + +Young folks of today don't love like they did in the olden days. Now it +is hot love, minute love, free love. + +When my first child was born, I begged the midwife not to cut me open to +get the baby out. The midwife told me the same place it went in the same +place it will come out. + +When my breasts began to grow (adolescence) I didn't want those bumps on +me, and tied them down with wide rags. + +Cures--I uses gasoline and cedar, soak it and rub on affected places for +rheumatism. + +I believe that you must not let your left hand know what your right hand +is doing. + +Heaven is a place of rest. If we are faithful to God, you can ride death +home. + +Hell is below--also here on earth. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Andrew Smith + R.F.D., Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 73 + + +"I was born after the surrender at Oxford, Mississippi. We belong to +Master Jim Smith. Mother cooked and father worked in the field. He was +on a average being good. They didn't trouble my mother as I recollect +hearing 'em say but they whooped them in the field. Pattyrollers chased +papa in sometimes. I heard him talk about it but I couldn't tell what he +said now. Mama had two before freedom, then she married and had three +children. He died. She married the second time and had two more +children. That made seben in all. + +"She said her first marriage was pronounced (announced). My mother said +their master refugeed them to Texas till the year of the surrender. They +didn't know nothing 'bout freedom till a while after they got back +from Texas. They stayed on that year and longer too not knowing 'bout +freedom. My rickerliction is short. + +"Frank Houston was a neighbor of our'n. He lived on my folks' joining +plantation close to Houston, Mississippi during slavery. During or +before the War come on he put his money in a barrel--hogshead. They +said it was gold and silver. I don't know. It might some been paper. He +rolled the barrel down to the river. It was the Tallahassee (?) River +eighteen miles northeast of Oxford, Mississippi. He hid his barrel of +money in the river. They hunted and hunted it and never could find it. +It might sunk in the mud and quick sand. Somebody might er hauled it out +and stole it. The whole neighborhood hope him hunt it. They never did +find it. I seen the old man and Jim Smith heaps of times. + +"I voted in Mississippi. I couldn't read. They had a big fight in the +country at Midway Church where we all voted. It was out a ways from +Oxford, Mississippi. I never voted in Arkansas. I pay poll tax. Never +'lowed to vote. + +"I never went to school a day in my life. + +"I come to Forrest City fifty-four years ago. Married here. Never had a +child. Now my wife dead. I farmed all my life. I bought a farm but they +never let me have it. I never got it all paid out. They took it. + +"I get Welfare help. I does some work. I'm nearly past hard work now." + + + + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Carol N. Graham +ADDRESS--Rear 456 West Main Street, El Dorado, Arkansas +DATE--November 1, 1938 +SUBJECT--Ex-slaves +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Caroline Smith, Route 1, El Dorado. +(Lives with Negroes by name of Green about 1 mile from Smith's Crossing) + +2. Date and time of interview--November 1, 1938, Tuesday morning, +9:30-10:30 + +3. Place of interview--at the home of some Negroes named Green. + +4. Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with +informant--Had previously talked with Caroline. + +5. Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you--Mrs. Ethel +Depriest, 516 East Miles Street, El Dorado. + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.--a typical Negro farm +house. + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry-- + +2. Place and date of birth--Camden, Arkansas? No date. + +3. Family--one child. + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Camden and El Dorado. No dates. + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates--None + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview--This slave old enough to remember +Civil War. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"I first remembers living on the plantation of Mr. Jake Dumas near El +Dorado Landing. You know it's Calion now. We lived up towards Camden and +it was there that my ma and pa was married and buried. I was a big girl +durin' the war. My job was to card and spin. And I use to carry the +children to school. When I would get to the school I would put the +children off, git straddle and ride that horse home. When I would get +there old mos would say Ca'line did you run him? I'd say naw sir. Then +he'd say, 'Oh, Carryline put the horse in the lot and come out here. I'd +say, 'Master I didn't run that horse' but didn't do no good. He sure +would whip me. I'd get down and roll. I would stomp and he would do the +same. I wondered how he could tell I'd run that horse. But course he +could cause that horse had the thumps (heart beating rapidly). + +"I remember seeing the soldiers come through during the war. They come +by droves stealing horses, setting the cotton on fire and taking sumpin +to eat, too. + +"Yes, I does still member the songs we sung durin' the war but I've got +the asthmy and ain't got much wind fur singin'. + + "You want to know the reason, + You want to know the reason, + You want to know the reason, I'll tell you why, + We'll whip them Yankees, whole hog or die." + + "Hooray, Hooray, Hooray for the Southern Girl. + Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear. + My homespun dress is plain I know, + I glory in its name; + Hooray for the homespun dress the Southern ladies wear." + +"I've got the asthmy honey and jest caint sing no more. + +"You asked 'bout my husband and chillun. I been married fo' times. My +first man's name was Dick Hagler, the next Frank Bibby, the next Henry +Harris and the last one was Tom Smith. That's where I get my name +Ca'line Smith. I never did have but one daughter but she had sixteen +chillun. She's daid now and mah granchillun is scattered. + +"I got the asthmy an jes don' feel like talkin' no more. Long time ago +when I was sick master always had a doctor to me now I have to hire one. +And they always fed me good and clothed me but after I was free I would +go round and work around to git a little sumpin to eat." + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Caroline Smith, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"Ca'line Smith's my name and dey calls me 'Aunt Ca'line.' I was born +about de year 1855 as I was about dis high (measuring) when de War broke +out. I remembers de boys marching away in their grey uniforms just as +plain. We chillen would watch dem as dey went away; we could see em as +we peeped through de winders and de cracks in de walls. + +"I was born in Mississippi close to Columbus on de plantation of my +master, John Duncan. And he was a purty strict old master, sure, but +sometimes he was kind to us. When we was set free he let us all go +wherever we wanted to, but didn't pay us nothin'. + +"All de slaves that I remembers stayed on around in different parts of +Mississippi after de War and engaged in farmin', and workin' on roads +and streets, and other public work. About forty years ago I come to Pope +County, Arkansas wid my parents and has lived here ever' since. + +"I don't remember nothin' about de Klu Klux Klan or if our folks was +ever bothered wid em. + +"Yes suh, I keeps workin' every day and likes to keep up my sewin'. +Plenty of it to do all de time--jest like I'm doin' today. My health is +purty good ceptin' I has a sort of misery in my side. + +"I draws a pension of $7.50 a month, but I dunno who sends it. + +"I belongs to de Adventist Church, and I sure believes in always tellin' +de trufe and nofin' but de trufe; we better tell de trufe here, for some +of dese days we all gwine where nofin' but de trufe will be accepted. + +"No suh, I ain't never took any interest in politics and ain't never +voted. + +"Dese young'uns today is simply too much for me; I can't understand em, +and I dunno which way dey headed. Some few of em seems to have sound +common sense, but--well, I just refuse to talk about em." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella Anderson +Person Interviewed: Edmond Smith + D Avenue + El Dorado, Ark. +Age: ? + + +"I was born in Arcadia, Louisiana a long, long time ago. Now my work +when I was a child was farmin'. I did not stay a child long, I been +grown ever since I was fourteen. My father lived till I was eleven, and +I thought since I was the oldest boy I could take his place of bossin', +but my mother would take me down a button hole lower whenever I got too +high. + +"Before my papa died we had a good livin'. We lived with his mistress's +daughter, and we thought we lived in heaven. My papa made all of the +shoes and raised all of the cattle from which he got the hide. We raised +all the wool to make our wool clothes and made all of the clothes we +wore. And food--we did not know what it was to go to a store to buy. +Didn't have to do that. You see, people now living out of paper sacks. +Every time they get ready to cook it's go to the store. We old timers +lived out of our smokehouse. + +"In there we had dried beef, cured pork, sugar from syrup, sweet +potatoes, onions, Irish potatoes, plenty of dried fruit and canned +fruit, peanuts, hickory nuts, walnuts; eggs in the henhouse and chickens +on the yard, cows in the pen and milk and butter in the house. + +"My mama even made our plow lines. She had a spinning wheel and you know +how to spin?--you can make ropes for plow lines too. Just twist the +cotton and have it about six inches long and put it in the loom and let +it go around and around. You keep puttin' the twisted cotton in the loom +and step on the peddle and no sooner than done, that was worked in a +rope. Now, if you don't know what I am talking about it is useless for +me to tell you. + +"After papa died that left no one to work but mama and I tell you time +brought about a change. A house full of little children--we lived from +hand to mouth. Not enough corn to feed one mule. No syrup, no hogs, no +cows. Oh! we had a hard time. I remember hearing my mama many a night +ask God to help her through the struggle with her children. The more my +mama prayed the harder times got with her. Wasn't no churches around so +she had to sing and pray at home. The first Sunday School I remember +going to was in 1892. I went to school and got as high as fifth grade, +then I ran away from my mama. + +"Just becaise I let old bad man overpower me I got grown and mannish. +Couldn't nobody tell me a thing. I would steal, I would fight, I would +lie. I remember in 1896 I went to church--that was about the fourth time +I had been to church. The preacher began preachin' and I went outdoors +and cut the harness off of his mule and broke one of his buggy wheels. I +went down in the woods and cut a cow just for meanness. I stole a gun, +and I would shoot anytime and anywhere, and nobody bothered me because +they was scared to. I stole chickens, turkeys and anything. + +"I got in trouble more times than a little, so the last time I got in +trouble some white people got me out and I worked for them to pay my +fine out. While working for them I made shoes. They taught me to do +carpenter work. They taught me to paint; to paper; to cook; work in the +field and do most anything. I came to my senses while working with those +people and they made a man out of me. When I left there I was a first +class carpenter. Those white people was the cause of me getting +independent. I didn't get no book sense, but if you get with some good +white people, that will be worth more than an education." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Emma Hulett Smith; Hazen, Arkansas +Age: 66 + +"I was the first colored baby born here or very near here. There was +only three houses in this town (Hazen). I think they muster been log +houses. + +"My folks belong to Dr. Hazen. He brought families from Tennessee. When +the war broke out he took em to Texas. Then he brought em back here. +When they was freed I heard my mother say they worked on for him and his +boys (Alex and Jim Hazen) and they paid them. He was good to them. They +had er plenty always. After the war they lived in good log houses and he +give em land and lumber for the church. Same church we got cept a storm +tore it down and this one built in place of it. He let em have a school. +Same place it stands now. My mother (Mandy Hulett) got a Union pension +till she died. She cooked at the first hotel in Hazen for John Lane. She +washed and ironed till she died. We girls helped and we wash and iron +all we can get now. None of us not on relief (Fannie nor Emma). I can't +wash no more. My hands and arms swell up with rheumatism. I still iron +all I can get. + +"The present conditions seems awful unsettled; wages low, prices high +and work scarce at times. Men can get work in the hay two months and +bout two months work in the rice or pickin cotton, either one. Then the +work has played clean out till hay time next year. + +"How do they live? Some of their _wifes_ cooks for white people and +they eat all they make up soon as they get paid. Only way they live." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ervin E. Smith + 811 Ringo Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +"I have been in this state for forty-nine years. I will be here fifty +years on the fifteenth of December. + +"I was born in Ebenezer Township, York County, South Carolina, on the +twenty-ninth day of April, in 1854. That makes me eighty-four years old +on Friday. I was born on Good Friday--on Good Friday at six o'clock in +the morning. + +"I am telling you what I was instructed all of my life. My father, W.D. +Smith, and my mother, Haria, told me these things. My mother carried a +nickname, Salina, all her life, but her real name was Haria. + +"I'll tell you how they happened to keep such good records. We had a +little advantage over the other people of that day. My father never +got any school education, but his brothers instructed him--his +half-brothers. They were white. They was good, too. I mean them brothers +thought just as much of me as they did of anybody else. So my father +got pretty good training. He got it from his brothers and that's how he +learned to keep such good records. + + +Relatives + +"I am told my mother cooked for one family for forty-two years. Her +maiden name was Haria Harris. She was three-fourths white. She come from +the Indian tribe--old Catawba Indians. Her own daddy was a white man, +but her Grand daddy on her mother's side was an Indian. + +"I am told that the old fellow bought my mother when she was fifteen +years old. Finally he got hold of both my father and my mother. Both of +them put together didn't have half colored blood. He must have loved +them a lot to work so hard to get them together. My father was half +white, but his mother was a mulatto woman (Interpreter's comment--This +should make him a quadroon)[TR: sentence lined out.]; and my mother's +great-grandmother was a colored woman. + +"I never knew much about race troubles. The best friend I ever had was +an old white grandmother. I was carefully shielded from all unpleasant +things. + + +Fort Sumter + +"I was looking at the men when they were getting ready to get on the +train to go to Fort Sumter. Mr. John White, Captain John White, I knew +him personally. He was one of our neighbors. That was in Ebenezer that +he was one of our neighbors. The soldiers going to capture Fort Sumter +caught the Columbia and Augusta train going to Charleston. Looked like +to me there was ten thousand of them. John White was the captain and +Beauregard [HW: here Gustave Toutant Beauregard.] was the general. + +"I didn't see the fighting because it was too far away. It was about +eighty miles from us where they got on the train to Fort Sumter. They +got on the train at Rock Hill. Rock Hill was a city--small city--real +close to Ebenezer. We lived near Rock Hill. They was adjoining towns. + + +Patrollers and Good Masters + +"The only patrollers I knew of was some that come on the place once and +got hurt. My mother had a brother Hobb and the patroller tried to whip +him. Hobb knocked all his front teeth out with a stick. Ches[TR:?] Wood +was the name of the patroller. It was like it is now. There were certain +white people who didn't allow any of their niggers to be whipped. I +never seen a patroller on my place. I have heard of them in other +places, but the only one to come on our place was the one Uncle Hobb +beat up. He had to take it, because you couldn't put anything over on +Harris' plantation. My people was rich people. They didn't allow anybody +to come on their places and interfere with then--their niggers. + +"I have heard my mother say that no white man ever struck her in her +life. I have had uncles that were struck. Two of them, and both of them +killed the men that struck them. Uncle Saul killed Edmund Smith and +Uncle George killed Ed McGehee. Uncle George's full white sister (his +half-sister) sent him away and saved him. They electrocuted Uncle +Saul--they executed him. + +"White men struck them and they wouldn't take it. They didn't do nothin' +at all to Hobb Baron. He got to his boss and the white folks was 'fraid +to come there after him. All of this was in slavery. My people ain't +never had no trouble with anybody since freedom; white people would get +mad with my uncles and try to do something to them, and they wouldn't +take it. + +"There were three races in the neighborhood where I was raised--niggers, +Indians, and white folks. They never sent the Indians out until 1876 +when I was a grown man. They sent them over there to Utah when it became +a state. I had a lot of Indian friends that went along at that time. + +"Bad blood was mixed up there and you couldn't do nothing to anybody and +get away with it. + + +First Pair of Shoes + +"I can remember the first pair of shoes my uncle gave me. They had a +little brass on the top of the toes to keep you from kicking them out +and skinning them up. That was way back yonder in the fifties. + + +Bible and Church in Slave Time + +"White people taught their niggers what Bible they wanted them to know. + +"'Who made you?' + +"'God.' + +"'Why did He make you?' + +"'For his own glory.' + +"'Why ought you to love God?' + +"'Because He made me and takes care of me.' + +"That was all the Bible they wanted you to learn. That, and just a few +more things. I could state them all. + + +Education + +"In 1866, everybody that was less than sixteen years old in South +Carolina had to go to school. The little fellows that had been slaves +had to go to school, and they got some education. You will hardly find +an old man from South Carolina around my age who can't read and write. +There was one hundred sixty pupils in my school. All boys. I never went +to a mixed school--a school where they had boys and girls both. + +"The first school I attended was in Ebenezer. I went to high school in +Macklenburg. Miss Sallie Good and Miss Mattie Train, Elias Hill, and +David G. Wallace--all of these were my teachers. They were all white +except Elias Hill. He was the only colored teacher in that section of +the country--at that time. + +"When I finished high school, I went to Biddle University. Biddle was +a boys' school. It was in Charlotte, North Carolina. They had a girls' +school in Concord, North Carolina. Biddle is still running, but it has +another name. Dr. Mattoon was president of Biddle then and Dr. Darling +was president of the girls' school. + + +Murders + +"The first murder ever I saw was Violet Harris killed Warren Fewell. It +come over a family quarrel some way. They fell out over something. She +was not related to him. It was done right at the fence at her gate. She +cut him with a butcher knife--stuck him just once right through the +heart. That is the first murder I ever saw. They were both colored. The +War was just winding up. It happened in Ebenezer. I don't recall that +they punished her. + +"I have seen a white man killed by a white man, and I have seen a +colored man killed by a colored man; but I have never seen a colored man +killed by a white man or a white man killed by a colored man. I have +seen them after they were killed, but I never seen the killing. I have +seen both races killing their own, but I have never seen them killing +across the races. + +"About fifty years ago, I saw a young man come in the church and kill +another one. Just come in and shot him. That is been fifty years +ago--back in 1881 in Ebenezer. + +"Rock Hill, South Carolina, from 1876 to a while later, bore the name +'Bloody Town.' They killed a man there every Saturday night in the +year--fifty-two times a year they killed a man. They had to send for the +Federal troops to bring them down. They didn't just kill colored people. +They killed anybody--about anything." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Frances Smith + 2224 Havis Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 77 + + +"I specs I was born in slavery times. I remember seein' the Yankees. +That was in Mississippi. I'm seventy-seven--that's my age. + +"Spencer Bailey was old master. Just remember the name was 'bout the +biggest thing I knowed about. I seen him all right but I didn't know +much about him 'cept his name. + +"Mother belonged to him, yes'm. + +"I tell you the truf, what little I used to remember I done forgot it. I +just didn't try to keep up with it. I wasn't concerned and just didn't +try to keep up with it. + +"I know our folks stayed there a while. First place we went to after the +War was Tennessee. + +"I don't know how long I been here--I been here a time though. + +"Yes'm, I went to school several terms. + +"I was married in Arkansas. My folks heard about Arkansas bein' such a +rich country, so they come to Arkansas. + +"I farmed a long time and then I done housework. + +"Deal a times I don't know what to think of this younger generation. I +sits down sometimes and tries to study 'em out, but I fails. + +"Well, what the old folks goin' to get out of this?" + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Henrietta Evelina Smith + 1714 Pine Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: + + +"I was born in Louisiana in East Felicie Parish near Baton Rouge on the +twenty-eighth day of December. My mother's name was Delia White. Her +maiden name was Delia Early. My father's name was Henry White. My +mother's father was named Amos Early. My mother's mother's name was +Julia. My father's father was named Tom White and his mother was named +Susan. + +"My father and mother both belonged to the Eason's. I don't know how +they spelled it. Eason's daughter married Munday and my uncle bought +this white man's place years after freedom. That is not far from +Clinton--about four or five miles. It is three miles from Ethel, +Louisiana. + +"Amos, my grandfather, was the wagoneer on the old place. Father, he +used to drive the wagon too. He'd haul cotton to Baton Rouge and things +like that. He would run off and stay five or six months. I have heard +them talk about how he used to come back and bring hogs and one thing +and another that he had found out in the woods. He would run off because +the overseer would whip him. But he was such a good working man that +once or twice, the boss man turned off his overseer on account of him. +There wasn't nothing against his work. He just wouldn't take a blow. +Most of the times after he had been out a while the boss man would tell +the hands to tell Amos that if he would come on home they wouldn't whip +him for running off. + +"My grandmother's mother on my father's side was named Melissa. I think +that was her name. My father's mother was named Susan like I told you. + +She was part Indian--better work hand never was. But she wouldn't be +conquered neither. When they got ready to whip her, it would be half a +day before they could take her. When they did get her, they would whip +her so they would have to raise her in a sheet. The last time they +whipped her, it took her nearly a year to get over it. So the white man +just turned her loose and told her she was free. She went on off and we +never did know what became of her. + +"The Easons were farmers and they had a large plantation. I don't know +just how many slaves they owned. + +"My father and mother were fed like pigs. They had an old woman that did +the cooking. She was broke down from work. They would give the slaves +greens and the children pot-liquor. My parents were field hands. My +mother was too young to carry a row when she was freed, but she worked +on an older person's row. They worked from can till can't. You know what +I mean, from the time they could see till the time they couldn't. Reb +time was something like the penitentiary now. It never got too cold nor +too hot to work. And there wasn't any pay. My parents never were given +any chance to earn any money. I heard that my grandpa used to make a +little something. He was a wagoneer you know. He would carry a little +extra on his load and sell it. His old master never did find it out. +People knew he had stole it, but they would buy it just the same. + +"The old boss man came down in the quarters and told them they were free +when freedom came. Right after freedom they stayed there on the old +place for a year or more. My mother wasn't grown and she and my father +married after that. Afterwards they had kind of a fight to get away from +the old man. He was carrying them the same way he was going before the +War and they had a row (quarrel), and left him. I don't know just what +terms they worked on. I don't think they did themselves. They took just +what they could get and didn't know just how they was paid. + +"If a man made a good crop, they would run him away and make him leave +his crops behind. + +"My folks continued to farm all their lives. They had trouble with the +night riders. They had to vote like they were told. If you voted the +wrong way they would get behind you and run you off. There were some +folks who would take pay for voting and then vote different, and when +the night riders found it out, there would be trouble. I don't believe +in taking money for voting, and I don't believe in lying. + +"My mother and father didn't get any schooling. That was allowed after +slavery, but it wasn't allowed in slavery time. They learned a little +from other people. They would slip and learn to read. + +"My great-grandmother was considered pretty when she was young. She had +glossy black hair and was a little short. She was brownskin and had big +legs. Her master would take her out behind the field and do what he +wanted. When she got free, she gave both of her children away. She had +two children by him--a boy named Eli and a girl named Anna. She didn't +want them 'round her because they reminded her of him." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The subject did not wish to state her age. It is probably around +sixty-five. Her mother was married shortly after freedom. And eight +years is probably a liberal allowance for the distance of her birth from +emancipation. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person Interviewed: Henry Smith + 702 Virginia, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 +Occupation: Odd jobs + + +"Yes mam, I was here in slavery times. I was born in Tennessee on a +plantation near Jackson. I was eight years old when peace was declared. +All I member is when they beat the folks pit near to death. + +"My old master was Tom Smith. Mean? Cose he was mean. Old mistress was +sorta good to us but old master was the devil. Used to make the men hold +the women while they whipped em. Make em wear old brogan shoes with +buckles across the instep. Had the men and women out fore day plowin'. I +member they had my mother out many a day so dark they had to feel where +the traces was to hitch up the mules. + +"My mother worked in the field and I stayed in front and helped her up +when she got behind. + +"I member when the Yankees had thousands and thousands of bales of +cotton in the streets right here in Pine Bluff and take a knife and +cut it open and put a match to it, and burn peoples houses and the gin +houses and everything. Take the hosses and mules and run em off. + +"Old master and mistress carried us to Texas till peace was declared. I +member one morning the mail come and old master had a long paper and he +called all us colored folks up and told us we was free. He told us we +could go or stay. They all wanted to stay so he brought em all back here +to Arkansas. He give each one three acres of ground and all they could +make on it. That's the nicest thing he ever done, but he didn't do that +but one year. After that the land fell back to him. Then they worked on +the halves. + +"When the colored folks went to buy stock and rent land from the whites, +it cost five and six dollars a acre. They sho could make some money that +way, too. + +"I was big enough to do right smart behind a plow. I could do a heap. We +got along pretty well. + +"I got married when I was bout eighteen and made a home for myself. Me +and my wife had twenty-two children. White folks helped us a lot. My +wife's dead and all my children dead 'cept four. + +"I been here in Pine Bluff twenty-two years. I been here a good +while--that ain't no joke. Used to make three dollars a day mowin' +grass. Bought this place with the money. Can't make that now. They won't +give you nothin' for your work. + +"Oh yes'm, I voted and wouldn't know what I was votin' till 'twas too +late. + +"Never went to school much. Learned to read a little bit. They kep' me +in the field. Yes ma'm, I've worked but I've never had a doctor to me in +my life. + +"Ain't much to this younger generation. The old race can get along a lot +better with the white folks than the young race can. + +"I'm the head deacon of the Morning Star Church. Read the Bible right +smart. I tell you one thing--I like all of it." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: J.L. Smith + 1215 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"I was born in 1862 in the month of September on the fifteenth. I +was born at a place they call Indian Bay on White River down here +in Arkansas. My mother was named Emmaline Smith and she was born in +Tennessee. I don't know really now what county or what part of the +state. My father's name was John Smith. He was born in North Carolina. +I don't know nothing about what my grandfather's name and grandmother's +names were. I never saw them. None of my folks are old aged as I am. My +father was sixty years old when he died and my mother was only younger +than that. + + +Experience of Father + +"I heard my father say that he helped get out juniper timber in North +Carolina. The white man me and my sister worked with after my father +died was the man my father worked with in the juniper swamp. His name +was Alfred Perry White. As long as he lived, we could do work for him. +We didn't live on his place but we worked for him by the day. He is dead +now--died way back yonder in the seventies. There was the Brooks and +Baxter trouble in 1874, and my father died in seventy-five. White lived +a little while longer. + +"My father was married twice before he married my mother. He had two +sets of children. I don't know how many of them there were. He had +four children by my mother. He had only four children as far as I can +remember. + +"I don't know how my father and my mother met up. They lived in the same +plantation and in the same house. They were owned by the same man when +freedom came. I don't know how they got together. I have often wondered +about that. One from Tennessee and the other from North Carolina, but +they got together. I guess that they must have been born in different +places and brought together through being bought and sold. + +"My mother was a Murrill. My father was a Cartwright. My father's +brother Lewis was a man who didn't take nothing much from anybody, and +he 'specially didn't like to take a whipping. When Lewis' master wanted +to whip him, he would call his mother--the master's mother--and have her +whip him, because he figured Uncle Lewis wouldn't hit a woman. + +"I have six children altogether. Two of them are dead. There are three +girls and one boy living. The oldest is fifty-seven; the next, fifty; +and the youngest, forty-eight. The youngest is in the hospital for +nervous and mental diseases. She has been there ever since 1927. The +oldest had an arm and four ribs broken in an auto accident last January +on the sixteenth of the month. She didn't get a penny to pay for her +trouble. I remember the man did give her fifteen cents once. The truck +struck her at the alley there and knocked her clean across the street. +She is fifty-seven years old and bones don't knit fast on people that +old. She ain't able to do no work yet. All of my daughters are out of +work. I don't know where the boy is. He is somewheres up North. + + +Slave Houses + +"I have seen some old log houses that they said the slaves used to live +in. I was too young to notice before freedom. I have seen different +specimens of houses that they lived in. One log house had a plank house +builded on to the end of it. The log end was the one lived in during +slavery times and the plank end was built since. That gal there of mine +was born in the log end. There were round log houses and sawed log +houses. The sawed log houses was built out of logs that had been squared +after the tree had been cut down, and the round log houses was built out +of logs left just like they was when they was trees. There's been quite +an improvement in the houses since I was a kid. + + +Food + +"I have heard my father and mother talking among themselves and their +friends, but they never did tell me nothing about slave times. They +never did sit down and talk to me about it. When they'd sit down and +start talkin', it would always be, 'Now you children run on out and play +while we old folks sit here and talk.' But from time to time, I would be +sitting on the floor playing by myself and they would be talking 'mongst +themselves and I would hear them say this or that. But I never heered +them say what they et in slave times. + + +Work + +"My father worked in the juniper swamp in North Carolina, like I told +you. I think I heard my mother say she cooked. Most I ever heard them +say was when they would get with some one else and each would talk about +his master. + + +Cruelties + +"I heard my mother say that her mistress used to take a fork and stick +it in her head--jog it up and down against her head. I don't know how +hard she punched her. My mother was very gray--all her hair was gray and +she wasn't old enough for that. I reckon that was why. + + +How Freedom Came + +"I don't remember how freedom came. They were refugeed--I call it +that--my father and mother were. My sister was born in Texas, and they +were back in Arkansas again when I was born. I was born and raised right +here in Arkansas. They were running from one place to the other to keep +the Yankees from freeing the slaves. I never even heard them say where +they were freed. I don't know whether it was here or in Texas. + + +Right After the War + +"I have no knowledge of what they did right after the War. The first +thing I remember was that they were picking cotton in Pine Bluff or near +there. It was a smoky log house I had to stay in while they were out in +the field and the smoke used to hurt my eyes awful. + + +Ku Klux and Patrollers + +"I don't remember nothing about the Ku Klux. I heard old folks say +they used to have passes to keep the pateroles from bothering them. I +remember that they said the pateroles would whip them if they would +catch them out without a pass. When I first heard of the Ku Klux Klan, +I thought that it was some kind of beast the folks was talking about. I +didn't hear nothing special they did. + + +Occupational Experiences + +"When I got old enough, I worked a farm--picked cotton, hoed, plowed, +pulled corn--all such things. That is about all I ever did--farming. +Farming was always my regular occupation. I never did anything else--not +for no regular thing. + + +Marriage + +"I married in 1879. My father and mother married each other too after +freedom. I remember that. It was when the government was making all +those that had been slaves marry. I have been married just the one time. +My wife died in April 1927. + + +Present Condition + +"I am not able to do anything now. I don't even tote a chair across the +room, or spade up the ground for a garden, or hoe up the weeds in it. I +am ruptured and the doctor says it is the funniest rupture he ever seen. +He says that there's a rupture and fat hanging down in the rupture. They +have to keep me packed with ice all the time. The least little thing +brings it down. I can't hold myself nor nothing. Have to wear something +under my clothes. + +"I don't get a pension." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Smith is sensitive about his first name--doesn't like to give it--and +about his condition. He doesn't like to mention it or to have it +referred to. + +He has an excellent memory for some things and a rather poor one for +some others. He got angry when his granddaughter supplied data about his +wife which he apparently could not recall. + +His physical condition is deplorable and his circumstances extremely +straitened. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: John H. Smith + 2602 W. Twelfth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 81 + + +"I reckon I was here, I member seein' the smoke from the guns look like +a cloud. + +"I was born in Missouri in 1856. I member _way_ back. Yes'm. I'm +old--I'm _old_. + +"I member seein' the soldiers--Yankees--eight or ten in a squad and they +asked me did I want to ride with em? Old mistress say, 'That's my boy!' +I member way back when they used to put the folks upon a block and sell +em. I member one night we was in the cabin and the Ku Klux come up on +horses. And I member when they was hollerin' peace was declared. + +"Mama told me I was born in 1856. Mama had all our ages in that big +Bible. + +"We stayed in St. Louis six years then we went to Chrystal City. +Missouri and I went to the glass factory and went to work. + +"Did I vote? Me? Yes'm, I voted many a time--Republican. I'm still a +Republican--always will be I reckon. I haven't voted for a long time but +I think everybody ought to have the liberty to vote. + +"I like to live in the North better cause the white folks treats you +better. They treats me all right here cause I don't do nothin'. + +"I member my white folks was good to me. + +"I went to school after the war whar I was born. C.N. Douglas, the son +of Napoleon Douglas, was my teacher. First teacher we had was Miss +Mary Strotter. I know she couldn't learn us anything so they got C.N. +Douglas. He brought that paddle with the little holes and he learned +us something. I know my sister was next to me and she couldn't get her +spelling and I'd work my mouf so she could see. C.N. Douglas caught me +at it and he whipped me that day. I never worked my mouf again. + +"I was the best speller in the school. I won a gold pen and ink stand +and George Washington picture. + +"Before the war I member the overseer would say, 'If you don't have that +done tonight, I'll whip you tomorrow.' They had one man was pretty bad +and I know they give him a thimble and a barrel and told him he had to +fill up that barrel, but he couldn't do it you know and so they whipped +him. + +"Mama used to whip me. She called me the 'Devil's Egg Bag' for a long +time. I used to take a darning needle and punch the eyes out of guineas +or chickens just to see em run around. She broke me of that. I know now +she never whip me enough, but she made a man of me. I got a good name +now. Always been a good worker. Done my work good and that's what they +want to know. Yes ma'm, I'm _old_." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Persons interviewed: Maggie Snow and Charlie Snow + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Ages: 69 and 75 + + +"My parents' names was Mary and Henderson Kurkendall. They had seven +children. Mama died when I was three years old. Papa was a Yankee +soldier. + +"They belong to the same white folks, Moster Jake and Peggy Kurkendall. +They had a big farm. + +"My papa told me that one morning they woke up and looked out over the +field. The Yankees had pitched their camps far as you could see on +Moster Jake's farm. They come up to his house. Moster Jake had a big +house and a big family. The Yankees come up there and throwed out all +they had and told the slaves to take it. No, they didn't; they was +scared to take it and it belong to them. They didn't want it all wasted +like they was doing. Papa said they rode their horses up to the house. +They took all the soldiers on the place to the camp. They was scared not +to go. + +"Papa left mama at the old home place and Moster Jake let them work all +they could. Papa stayed in the war till after the battle at Vicksburg. +Then he come home. They stayed awhile at Moster Jake's and worked. He +got his knee hurt and his health ruined. He never was no count after he +got back home. Mama could pick six hundred pounds of cotton a day he +said. They worked from daybreak till pitch dark in them days. + +"Little Jake Kurkendall is living now Enoch or Harrison Station, +Mississippi. He is older than I am. He got a family. But he is all the +son old Moster Jake had that I know living now. + +"Papa said the Yankees made all the slaves fight they could run across. +Some kept hid in the woods. Seem like from way he told bout it they +wanted freedom but they didn't want to go to war. + +"When we heard bout Arkansas being so rich and a new country, we wanted +to come. Some white and some colored come. We come to Aubrey, Arkansas. +We got six living, five dead children. I been here fourteen years (at +Brinkley). I hired out to cook in Mississippi but I wash and iron +and work in the field till I bout wore out. My husband in a terrible +condition. He picked some cotton. He got rheumatism in his legs. + +"We own a little home bout a mile from town and a pig. I wish I could +get a cow. I ain't got the money to buy one. Jess can't get one no way. +We had a fine garden. Two of us get $10 and commodities. Times so far +this year been good. When it gets cold times may be hard. Times better +this year than last or it been for a long time. + +"I didn't know I could vote. Guess my husband done my part of the +voting." + +"I am seventy-three years old. There was two boys and two girls of us. +My aunts and uncles raised me. My mother died when I was little and fore +that my papa went to the army and never come home. They said he got +killed or died--they didn't know. My parents belong to Berry Bruce. He +had a family I heard em say. He lived at Louisville, Mississippi. + +"I recollect the Ku Klux. I heard em talk a whole lot about em. One time +they rode round our house and through the hall of our house. Yes ma'am, +it scared us so bad it most paralyzed us all. They went on. We didn't +know what they wanted. We never did find out. + +"I don't vote. I never voted in my life. I don't recken I ever will. I +have been a hard worker all my life. I farmed. I loaded and unloaded on +a steamboat with my family farmin' in the country. The boat I run on +went from Memphis to New Orleans. + +"My family farmed at Batesville in the country out from there. For a +long time I made staves with the Sweeds. They was good workers. We would +make 1,000, then load the barge and send or take them to Vicksburg. I +got my board and $1 a day. + +"The present conditions for the cotton farmer has been better this year +than last. When it gets cold and no work, makes it hard on old men. I +got no job in view for the winter. + +"I would like to have a cow if I could raise the money to get one. I +been tryin' to figure out how to get us a cow to help out. I can't make +it. + +"I suffer all the time. I can't sit still, I can't sleep I suffer so wid +rheumatism. Nobody knows how I do suffer. My general health is fine. + +"This President has sure been merciful to the poor and aged. Surely he +will be greatly rewarded hereafter." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Robert Solomon, Des Arc, Arkansas +Age: 73 + + +My father was African. He was born in Atlanta. My mother was a Cherokee +Indian. Her name was Alice Gamage. I was born in 1864. I don't know +where I was born--think it was in the Territory--my father stole my +mother one night. He couldn't understand them and he was afraid of her +people. He went back to Savannah after so long a time and they was in +Florida when I first seen any of her people. When I got up any size I +asked my father all about him and my mother marrying. He said he knowed +her 'bout two year 'fore they married. They sorter courted by signs--my +mother learned me her language and it was natural fur me to speak my +father's tongue. I talked for them. She was bout fifteen when she run +away. I don't know if a preacher ever did marry em or not. My father +said she was just so pretty he couldn't help lovin' her. He kept makin' +signs and she made signs. I liked my Gramma Gamage. She couldn't +understand much. We all went to the Indian Territory from Florida and +Georgia. That's how I come out here. + +I don't remember the Ku Klux. I remember hearing ma and gramma talk +'bout the way they tried to get way from 'em. My father was a farmer +till freedom. He farmed around here and at Pine Bluff. He died at West +Point. My mother and step-mother both died at Pine Bluff. They took my +mother to her nation in Oklahoma. She was sick a good while and they +took her to wait on her. Then come and took her after she died. There +show is a fambly. My father had twenty-two in his fambly. My mother +had five boys and three girls and me. My stepmother had fourteen more +children. That's some fambly aint it? All my brothers and sisters died +when I was little and they was little. My father's other children jess +somewhar down round Pine Bluff. I guess I'd know em but I aint seed none +of them in I don't know how long. + +The first work I ever done was sawmilling at Pine Bluff. Then I went +down in Louziana, still sawmilling--I followed dat trade five or six +years. Den I got to railroading. I was puttin down cross ties and layin' +steel. I got to be straw boss at dat. I worked at dat fifteen years. I +worked doing that in six different states. That was show fine livin'--we +carried our train right along to live in. I married and went to farming. +Then I come to work at this oil mill here (in Des Arc). The reason I +quit. I didn't quit till it went down and moved off. I aint had nothin' +much to do since. I been carryin' water and wood fur Mrs. Norfleet +twenty years and they cooks fur me now. My wife died 'bout a year ago. +She been dead a year last January. She was sick a long time 'fore she +died. Well the relief gives me a little to eat, some clothes and I gets +$5.00 a month and I takes it and buys my groceries and I takes it up to +Mrs. Norfleet's. They says come there and eat. They show is good to me +'cept I aint able to carry the wood up the steps much no more. It hurt +me when I worked at the oil mill. I helped them 'bout the house all the +time. + +What I do wid my money I made? I educated my girls. Yes maam I show is +got children. One my girls teaches school in St. Louis and de other at +Hot Springs. They both went to college at Pine Bluff. I sent em. No'm +dey don't help me. They is by my second wife and my first wife live with +my son, down close to Star City. Dey farm. It's down in Lincoln County. +They let me live in this house. It belongs to him. I went to the bank +fo' it closed and got my money whut I had left. I been livin' on it but +it give out. + +The conditions are all right. They kin make a right smart but everything +is so high it don't buy much. Some of 'em say they ain't goiner do the +hardest work, hot or cold and liftin' for no dollar a day. Don't nobody +work hard as I used to. There's goiner be another war and a lot of them +killed--'cause people ain't doin right. Some don't treat the others +right. No'm they never did. They used to threaten em and take 'em out in +cars and beat 'em up, just for disputin' their word or not paying 'em +and de lack. The white man has cheated a heap because we was ignorant +and black. They gamble on the cotton and take might' near all of it for +the cheap grub they let out to make de crop on. Conditions are better +but a heap of the young black and white too deblish lazy to work. Some +of dem get killed out goin' on at their meanness. + +I heard of uprisings since the war but I never was 'bout none of them. + +I votes the Republican ticket. The last I voted was for Hoover. Sure +they have tried to change my way of voting but I ain't goiner change. +I ain't heard nothin' 'bout no restrictions 'bout votin'. If a woman +wanter vote it's all right. My girs and my boy votes right along. They +are all Republicans. + +The most money I ever has at one time was $600.00. I did save it. I +spent it on my girls' clothes and education. They did go to college at +Pine Bluff but they went to the Catholic High School first down at Pine +Bluff. No'm they don't help me. They say it's all dey can do to get +along. They never have told me how much they make. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: James Spikes + 2101 Bell Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 91 + + +"Good morning. Yes'm I remember the Civil War. I was a soldier. I was +between sixteen and seventeen when I enlisted in the war. + +"'Why did you enlist?' + +"I didn't know no better. I thought I would be took care of. They told +us the war was sposed to set the darkies free. My old master didn't want +me to go--cose not. But they was very good to me. I regard them just the +same as myself. + +"I enlisted in the 55th regiment of colored soldiers. Then I went off +with the Yankees. I was with them when they had the battle at Corinth, +Mississippi. + +"I was with them when the Yankees taken Corinth and whupped. The rebels +tried to take it back and the Yankees whupped 'em again. The regiment I +was with whupped 'em away from several places and kept 'em runnin'. + +"When we was in Fort Pickens I 'member they had a poll parrot--some of +the officers had trained it to say 'Corporal of the guard, Jim Spikes, +post No. 1." Sometimes I would draw my gun like I was going to shoot and +the poll parrot would say, 'Jim, don't you shoot me!' They got plenty a +sense. + +"The war was funny and it wasn't funny. Well, it was funny for the side +that won when we had scrummishes (skirmish). I never was captured but I +hoped capture a lot. + +"I stayed in the war till I was mustered out in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. +I was a good big fellow then. Oh Lord yes, I knowed most anything. + +"After that I went to Memphis and then I come to Arkansas and went to +farming with some white fellows named French. The river overflowed and +we lost 'bout all the cotton. + +"The government gives me a pension now cause I was a soldier. Yes'm it +comes in right nice--it does that." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Kittie Stanford + 309 Missouri Street; Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 104 + + +"Yes'm, I used to be a slave. My mother belonged to Mrs. Lindsey. One +day when I was ten years old, my old mistress take me over to her +daughter and say 'I brought you a little nigger gal to rock de cradle.' +I'se one hundred and four years old now. Miss Etta done writ it down in +the book for me. + +"One time a lady from up North ask me did I ever get whipped. Honey, I +ain't goin' tell you no lie. The overseer whipped us. Old mistress used +to send me to her mother to keep the Judge from whippin' me. Old Judge +say 'Nigger need whippin' whether he do anything or not.' + +"Some of the hands run away. Old Henry run away and hide in the swamp +and say he goin' stay till he bones turn white. But he come back when he +get hongry and then he run away again. + +"When the war come some of the slaves steal the Judge's hosses and run +away to Pine Bluff and he didn't never find 'em. The Judge think the +Yankees goin' get everything he got so we all left Arkansas and went to +Texas. We in Texas when freedom come. We come back to Arkansas and I +stay with my white folks awhile but I didn't get no pay so I got a job +cookin' for a colored woman. + +"I been married fo' times. I left my las' husband. I didn't leave him +cause he beat me. I lef' him cause he want too many. + +"No'm I never seen no Ku Klux. I heard 'bout 'em but I never seen none +that I knows of. When I used to get a pass to go to 'nother plantation I +always come back fo' dark. + +"This younger generation is beyond my onderstanding. They is gettin' +weaker and wiser. + +"I been ready to die for the last thirty years. 'Mary (her granddaughter +with whom she lives), show the lady my shroud.' I keeps it wropped up +in blue cloth. They tells me at the store to do that to keep it from +turning yellow. 'Show her that las' quilt I made.' Yes'm I made this all +by myself. I threads my own needle, too, and cuts out the pieces. I has +worked hard all my life. + +"Now the Welfare gives me my check. My granddaughter good to me. I goes +to church on the first and third Sundays. + +"Lady, I glad you come to see me and God bless you. Goo' bye!" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Tom Stanhouse + R.F.D. + Brinkley, Ark. +Age: 74 + + +"I was born close to Greenville, South Carolina. I lived down close to +Spartanburg. My mother was named Luvenia Stanhouse and Henry Stanhouse. +They had nine children. Grandma belong to Hopkins but married into the +Stanhouse family. Grandpa's name was Tom. They set him free. I guess +because he was old. He lived about mong his children. + +"When they was set free old man Adam Stanhouse was good to em. He +treated em nice but they never got nothing but their clothes. They moved +on another place and started working sharecropper. + +"Before freedom old man Adam Stanhouse would give my pa a pass or his +pocket knife to show to go to see my ma. She lived at Dr. Harrison's +farm five miles apart. They all knowed Adam Stanhouse's knife. I don't +know how they would know it. He never let his Negroes be whooped unless +he said so. Owners didn't 'low the Ku Klux whoop hands on their place. + +"Adam Stanhouse brought my pa from Virginia with him. Some of them men +thought might near much of his slaves as they did their children. Or I +heard em say they seem to. My pa married my ma when she was thirteen +years old. They had nine children. + +"I heard ma say Dr. Harrison practiced medicine. His wife was named Miss +Lizzie. They had two boys and three girls. + +"Ma was a house girl. Pa was a field hand. One time traders come round +and ma's owner wanted to sell her and his wife objected. She wasn't sold +that time. I don't know if she was sold or not. + +"I don't know no more about that war than I do about the German war +(World War). I was a little boy when it was all over. I left South +Carolina in 1888. Ma was a part Red Indian and pa was a half Black Creek +Indian. I had two children before I left South Carolina. I was married +back there. I paid my own way and come to Fargo. I was trying to better +my condition. In 1896 I come to Brinkley. Before that I lived at Dark +Corner eight years. In 1920 ma and pa come to me and died with me. I +paid $25.00 for my second class ticket to Fargo--in 1888. + +"Since 1864 to 1937 I farmed, sawmilled, threshed, run a grist mill, run +a cotton gin and worked about em. I farmed eight or nine years across +the bayou here. + +"I own a home. My wife is living. I get 'demodities', no money. I got +two girls living. One girl is in New Jersey and one in Michigan. They +make their living. + +"I think the world is going on worse than ever I seen it. Folks can't +live without money. They don't try to raise their living no more. I +ain't no prophet. The world going to nothing way I see it." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Isom Starnes, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born in Marshall County, Alabama near Guntersville. Father belong +to the Starnes. They bought him in Alabama. My parents' name was Jane +and Burrel Starnes. They had two children I knew of. When they was set +free they left and started renting. I don't remember much that happened +before freedom. I picked up chips and put them in a split basket I just +could chin. I'd fill all the baskets and they would haul them up to put +under the iron skillet. Other chaps was picking up chips too. They used +some kinds to smoke the meat. I could tote water on my head and a bucket +in each hand. They was small buckets. We had to come up a path up the +hill. I stumped my toe on the rocks till they would bleed; sometimes it +looked like the nail would come off. My mother was a good cook. I don't +know what she was doing in slavery. + +"I been farming all my life. Yes, I owned ninety-eight acres in Alabama. +I had a home on it. I lost it. We brought a suit for water damage. We +lost it, I reckon. They fixed a dam that ruined my place. I left and +went to the North--to Springfield, Ohio. I started public work and +worked three or four months in a piano factory. I liked farming the best +and come back to it. My boys hope me down hill. I got two boys. My girl +left me all I got now. She is dead. I got a home and twenty-five acres +of ground. She made the money washing, ironing and farming. I 'plied for +the old folks' pension but didn't get it and give it up. I made four +bales cotton, one hundred pounds seed cotton. My place is half mile from +town. I have to get somebody to do all the work. + +"My father did vote. He voted a Republican ticket. I have voted but I +don't vote now. I voted a few days ago for a little cotton this year. It +was the cotton control election. I voted a Republican ticket. I found +out Democrat times is about the best time for us in the South. I +quit voting because I'm too old to keep up with it. If a woman owns +anything--land or house--she ought to be allowed to vote. + +"The times is mighty hard. I need a little money now and I can't get it +nowhere. It looks like bad times for me. The young folks don't work hard +as I did. I kept study (steady) at farming. I liked it. My race is the +best fitted for farming and that is where we belong. I never been in +jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." + + +Interviewer's comment + +I stopped this clean, feeble, old Negro--humble as could be--on the edge +of town. He had a basket of groceries taking to his old wife. It was a +small split basket. His taxes worried him. He couldn't get a holt on any +money, so I told him about the Farmers' Loan. He was so scared looking +I felt he didn't tell me all he knew. He looked tired. I gave it up and +jokingly asked him if he had ever been in jail. He said, "I never been +in jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." I laughed good and +thanked him. I told a young woman who had curiously been trying to catch +the conversation from her yard that I feared I frightened the old man +till he couldn't think to tell me all he knew. She said, "Maybe so but +he has a reputation of being good as gold and his word his bond." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Ky (Hezekiah) Steel + West Fifth Avenue (rear), Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85 +Occupation: Yard man + + +"What is it you want to know? Well, I was born in North Carolina. I know +they brought me here from North Carolina in slavery times. I couldn't +keep no count of it, lady, 'cause I didn't know. I know I was big enough +to walk behind the wagon pickin' up corn. I know that. That was in +slavery times. + +"Mr. June Ingraham's father brought me here. + +"Oh, that's a long time ago. Mr. June and I was boys together. I was +born in the Ingraham family. + +"They carried me from here to Texas. I stayed there till I was grown and +married. Then I come back to Arkansas I got with Mr. June's son and I +been here since. + +"Never have gone to school a day. Can't read but I can spell a little. + +"I've done most all kinds of work--split rails, cut wood, farm work, and +railroad work on the section. + +"Ku Klux come out there where I was in Texas. Didn't bother me--they was +just around first one place, then another. + +"I voted once. I guess it was Republican. I don't remember now who I +voted for. I didn't take much interest in politics--only just what I'd +hear somebody say. + +"Yankees was camped near us in Texas to keep the wild Indians back. That +was after the War. Yes'm, sure was. + +"I know the very night old missis told us we was free. Called all us +slaves up there together. Told us we was just as free as she was. I +always will remember that. + +"I stayed there till we got through the crop. Then I went to +Paris, Texas and portered in a little hotel there. Then I went +wagonin'--haulin' stuff. + +"They used to whip me in slavery times when they got ready. Need it? +well, they said I did. Hurt my feelin's and hurt my hide too, but they +raised me to do whatever they said. + +"This younger generation ain't no good--they ain't raised up like I was. +Things is a whole lot different than they used to be. The folks ain't +prayin' to God like they used to. Ain't livin' right. + +"I had two brothers killed in time of the War. That's what the old +people told me after I come back from Texas. + +"Yes'm, I've had plenty to eat all my life--up until now; I ain't got so +much now. + +"I keep the rheumatism pretty much all the time but I ain't never been +down sick so I couldn't help myself. + +"I'm telling you just what I know and what I don't know I couldn't tell +you. Good-bye." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Maggie Stenhouse, + (a mile down the railway track), + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 72? + + +"Mama was owned by Master Barton. She lived on the line of North +Carolina and South Carolina. Her husband was sold away from her and two +children. She never seen him no more. Rangments was made with Master +Barton to let Master Liege Alexander have her for a cook. Then she went +to Old Pickens, South Carolina. Liege Alexander had a white wife and by +her he had two girls and a boy. He had a black cook and by her he had +two boys and a girl. One of these boys was my papa and I told you the +old man bought my mama from Master Barton for his colored son. My papa +never was sold you see cause he was the old white man's boy. After his +white wife died his two girls married and the boy left Old Pickens, and +they told his colored wife and her two boys and girl if they would stay +and take care of him as long as he lived they could have the property. +My papa went off five or six miles and built him a log house. + +"The old man--Master Liege Alexander--was blind when his wife died and +he had to be tended to like a child. He would knock his stick on the +wall and some of the small children would lead him about where he wanted +to go. His white children didn't like the way he had lived so they +didn't want to be bothered with him. + +"My parents' names was Cheney Barton and Jim Alexander. Papa was medium +dark and so was his own brother but their sister was as white as the +woman's two girls and boy. + +"After the railroads sprung up the town moved to New Pickens. + +"Master Liege Alexander had lots of slaves and land. I reckon the white +wife's children fell heir to the farm land. + +"My aunt and grandma cooked for him till he died. They kept him clean +and took care of him like as if his white wife was living. The colored +wife and her girl waited on the white wife and her children like queens. +That is what papa said. + +"Durin' slavery there was stockmen. They was weighed and tested. A man +would rent the stockman and put him in a room with some young women he +wanted to raise children from. Next morning when they come to let him +out the man ask him what he done and he was so glad to get out. Them +women nearly kill him. If he said nothin' they wouldn't have to pay for +him. Them women nearly kill him. Some of the slave owners rented these +stockmen. They didn't let them work in the field and they kept them fed +up good. + +"Fore the Civil War broke out mama said Master Barton hid a half bushel +solid gold and silver coins over the mountains. He had it close to the +spring awhile. Mama had to go by it to tote water to the house. She said +she never bothered it. He said he could trust her and she wouldn't +tell a lie. He took another sack of money over the mountains and the +silverware. His wife died during the war. A lot of people died from +hearing of the war--heart failure. I don't know what become of his +money. He lost it. He may forgot where he hid it. It was after his wife +died that he sold mama to Jim Alexander's papa. + +"The Yankees rode three years over the country in squads and colored +folks didn't know they was free. I have seen them in their old uniforms +riding around when I was a child. White folks started talking about +freedom fore the darkies and turning them loose with the clothes they +had on and what they could tote away. No land, no home, no place; they +roamed around. + +"When it was freedom the thing papa done was go to a place and start out +share croppin'. Folks had no horses or mules. They had to plough new +ground with oxen. I ploughed when I was a girl, ploughed oxen. If you +had horses or mules and the Yankees come along three or four years after +the war, they would swap horses, ride a piece, and if they had a chance +swap horses again. Stealing went on during and long after the war. + +"The Ku Klux was awful in South Carolina. The colored folks had no +church to go to. They gather around at folks' houses to have preaching +and prayers. One night we was having it at our house, only I was the +oldest and was in another room sound asleep on the bed. There was a +crowd at our house. The Ku Klux come, pulled off his robe and door face, +hung it up on a nail in the room, and said, 'Where's that Jim Jesus?' He +pulled him out the room. The crowd run off. Mama took the three little +children but forgot me and run off too. They beat papa till they thought +he was dead and throwed him in a fence corner. He was beat nearly to +death, just cut all to pieces. He crawled to my bed and woke me up and +back to the steps. I thought he was dead--bled to death--on the steps. +Mama come back to leave and found he was alive. She doctored him up and +he lived thirty years after that. We left that morning. + +"The old white woman that owned the place was rich--big rich. She been +complaining about the noise--singing and preaching. She called him +Praying Jim Jesus till he got to be called that around. He prayed in +the field. She said he disturbed her. Mama said one of the Ku Klux she +knowed been raised up there close to Master Barton's but papa said he +didn't know one of them that beat on him. + +"Papa never did vote. I don't vote. I think women should vote much as +men. They live under the same law. + +"I come to Arkansas about forty-five years ago. Papa brought us to a new +country, thought we could do better. I been farming, cooking, washing. I +can't do my own cooking and washing now. I got rheumatism in my joints, +feet, knees, and hands. We don't get no help of no kind. + +"My daughter is in Caldwell, New Jersey at work. She went there to get +work. She heard about it and went and haven't come home. I jes' got one +child." + + + + +Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg +Person interviewed: Mrs. Charlotte E. Stephens + 1420 West 15th Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +I was born right here in Little Rock. My father was owned by a splendid +family--the Ashleys. The family of Noah Badgett owned my mother and the +children. Pardon me, madam, and I shall explain how that was. In many +cases the father of children born in slavery could not be definitely +determined. There was never a question about the mother. From this you +will understand that the children belonged to the master who owned the +mother. This was according to law. + +My father's family name was Andrews. How did it happen that it was not +Ashley?... Oh, my dear, you have been misinformed about all slaves +taking the name of the master who owned them when peace came.... No, +madam. My father was named William Wallace Andrews after his father, +who was an English gentleman. He had come to Missouri in early days and +owned slaves.... Yes, my grandfather was white. The Ashleys brought my +father to Arkansas Territory when they came. They always permitted him +to keep his family name. Many other masters did the same. + +From the standpoint of understanding between the white and colored +races, Little Rock has always been a good place to live. The better +class families did not speak of their retainers as slaves; they were +called servants. Both my parents were educated by their masters. Besides +being a teacher and minister my father was a carpenter and expert +cabinet worker. + +The first school for Negroes in Little Rock was opened in 1863 and was +taught by my father. I went to school to him. A few months later there +came from the north a company of missionary teachers and opened a school +which I attended until 1867. My father was a minister of the Methodist +Episcopal church for colored people on what is now Eighth and Broadway. +He also had a chapel on the property of Mr. Ashley. You probably know +that during slavery days the slaves belonged to and attended the same +church as their white folks. They sat in the back, or in a balcony built +for them. My father was considered the founder of Wesley Chapel, which +was Methodist Episcopal. From that time until this day I have been a +member of that church. Seventy-three years, I think it is. Before the +break came in the Methodist church, you know, it was all the same, north +and south. After the division on account of slavery the Methodist church +in the south had the word "south" attached. For a long time my father +did not realize that. In 1863 he and his church went back into the +original Methodist church. + +In 1867 the Society of Friends--we called them Quakers--came and erected +a large two-story schoolhouse at Sixth and State streets. It was called +Union school. When it was built it was said by the Quakers that it was +to be for the use of colored children forever, but within a year or two +the city bought the property and took charge of the school. As far as +I can now recall, white and colored children never did attend the same +school in Little Rock. There have always been separate schools for the +races. I am able to remember the names of the first teachers in the +Quaker school; J.H. Binford was the principal and his sister taught the +primary department. Other teachers were Miss Anna Wiles (or Ware), Miss +Louise Coffin, Miss Lizzie Garrison, and Sarah Henley. + +I was about 11 years old when peace came and was living with my mother +and the other children on the Badgett plantation about 7 miles east of +Little Rock. Mother did laundry and general house work. Being a small +child, all that was asked of me was to run errands and amuse the little +white children. Madam, if I could tell you the great difference between +slave owners it would help you in understanding conditions of today +among the colored people. Both my father and my mother had peculiar +privileges. The Ashley family were exceptional slave owners; they +permitted their servants to hire their time. There was class +distinction, perhaps to greater extent than among the white people. Yes, +madam, the slaves who lived in the family with master and mistress were +taught just about the same as their own children. At any rate, they +imitated them in all matters; to speak with a low voice, use good +English, the niceties of manners, good form and courtesy in receiving +and attending guests. + +I began teaching in Little Rock schools when I was 15 years old and am +still teaching. In all, it is 69 years, and my contract is still good. +My first experience as a teacher, (as I told you I was fifteen) was by +substituting for a teacher in that first Missionary school, in 1869. For +some reason, she did not return, and the School Board appointed me in +her place. After one year I was given leave of absence to attend Oberlin +College in Ohio. I spent three years there, but not in succession. When +my money would give out I would come home and the School Board would +provide work for me until I could earn enough to carry me through +another term. I finished at Oberlin in 1873. I extended my work through +courses at Normal schools and Teacher's Institutes. I have taken lecture +courses in many colleges, notably the University of California in 1922. +I have taught all grades from the first to the twelfth. My principal +work, for the last 35 years, however, has been high school Latin and +English and Science. + +At present I am serving as librarian at the Senior high school and +Junior College. I have twice served as principal of city schools in +Little Rock. First at Capitol Hill. The Charlotte E. Stephens school at +18th and Maple was named in my honor. I have a book I have kept for 68 +years regarding those first schools, and I'm told it is the only one +in existence. I also have the first monthly report card ever issued in +Little Rock. Mr. Hall (Superintendent of Little Rock City Schools) has +asked me to will it to the School Board. + +I could recall many interesting events of those early schools for the +colored race. Old, old slaves came, desiring to learn to read and spell. +They brought the only books they could find, many of which proved to be +almanacs, paper bound novels discarded by their mistress and ancient +dictionaries, about half of which might be missing. + +Yes, madam, I do remember that the emancipated slaves were led to +believe they would be given property and have just what their masters +had been accustomed to enjoy. I remember hearing my mother tell, in +later years, that she really had expected to live as her mistress had; +having some one to wait upon her, plenty of money to spend, ride in a +carriage with a coachman. But she always added that the emancipated ones +soon found out that freedom meant more work and harder than they had +ever done before. + +What did they work at? Pardon me please for so often reminding you of +conditions of that time. Few of the trades workers were white. Brick +makers and brick layers, stone masons, lathers, plasters,--all types of +builders were of the freed men. You must remember that slaves were the +only ones who did this work. Their masters had used their labor as their +means of income. Not all slaves were in the cotton fields, as some +suppose. The slave owners of towns and villages had their slaves learn +skilled trade occupations and made a great deal of money by their +earnings. The Yankee soldiers and the many Northern people who lived +here hired the freed men and paid them. Quite soon the colored people +were buying homes. Many were even hired by their former masters and paid +for the work they formerly did without pay under slavery. + +I remember Bill Read and Dave Lowe. They had been coachmen before +freedom. By combining their first savings, they bought a hack, as it was +called. It was more of a cab. For all those who did not have private +conveyances, this was the only way of getting about town. It was Little +Rock's first taxi-cab business, I should say. Bill and Dave made a +fortune; they had a monopoly of business for years and eventually had +enough cabs to take the entire population to big evening parties, +theater, and all places where crowds would gather. + +No, madam, I do not recall that we had any inconvenience from the Ku +Klux Klan. If they made trouble in Little Rock I do not now remember it. +I did hear that out in the country they drove people from their homes. +Yes, madam, I do remember, quite distinctly, the times when colored men +were voted into public offices. John C. Corbin was State Superintendent +of Public Instruction. Phillips county sent two colored men to the +legislature; they were W.H. Gray and H.H. White, both from Helena. +J.E. Bush of this city followed M.W. Gibbs as Police Judge. After +reconstruction when all colored people were eliminated from public life +all these people returned to their trade. + +I was 22 when I married. My husband was a teacher but knew the carpenter +trade. During the time that Negroes served in public office he served as +deputy sheriff and deputy constable. He was with me for 41 years before +his death; we raised a family of six children and gave each one a +college education. + +Now, you have asked my opinion of present conditions of the younger +generation. It seems to me they are living in an age of confusion; they +seem to be all at sea as to what they should get for themselves. I do +know this. In some respects the modern frankness is an improvement over +the old suppression and repression in the presence of their elders. +At the same time, I think the young people of today lack the proper +reverence and respect for age and the experience it brings as a guide +for them. During my long years of teaching I have had opportunity to +study this question. I am still making a study of the many phases of +modern life as it affects the young people. I do not like the trend +of amusements of today; I would like for our young people to become +interested in things more worth while; in a higher type of amusement. +Conditions of morality and a lack of regard for conventions is +deplorable. Smoking among the girls has increased the common use of +liquor between the sexes. + +Did you ask me about the voting restrictions for the colored race in +this State? I will tell you frankly that I think the primary law here is +unjust; most unjust. We are citizens in every other respect; the +primary voting privilege should be ours also. This restriction has been +explained as coming down from "the grandfather clause" inserted in early +legislation. I cannot give you the exact wording of the clause but +the substance was that no person whose ancestor--grandfather--was not +entitled to vote _before_ 1863 should have the right to the ballot. +Of course it is readily seen that this clause was written purely for the +purpose of denying the vote to the colored people. + +Perhaps, madam, my talk has been too much along educational lines. You +asked me about my life since freedom came and how I have lived to the +present time. I have had the blessed privilege of being a teacher--of +doing the work I love best of all in the world to do. I have written the +story of my life work; it is all ready to be published. I have written +"The Story of Negro Schools in Little Rock" and "Memoirs of Little +Rock." Madam, I have written, I suppose, what would amount to volumes +for our church papers and local Negro newspaper. My daughter was, at one +time, editor of the Womens' Page. No, I'm indeed sorry that I have not +kept a scrapbook of such writings. In these latter years my friends +scold me for having destroyed all the papers as fast as they were read. +The most of the news in the articles, however, I have used in the +manuscripts of the books I hope to have published. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: William J. Stevens, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: Up in 70's + + +"I was born in Pleasant Hill, Alabama. My owners were Haley and Missouri +Stevens. They owned Grandma Mary. Pa was born on the place. Mother was +sold from the Combesses to Stevens. Mother's mother was a Turk Dark +Creek Indian. She was a free woman. Her name was Judy. I called her +Grandma Judy. She was old but not gray. She had long black hair as I +remember her. Mother was named Millie. Haley bought her for my pa. _My +pa's father was Haley Stevens' own son_. He was his coachman. Pa +never worked a great deal. Mother never cooked till after emancipation. +She was the house girl and nurse. Life moved along smoothly as much as I +ever heard till freedom come on. The Indians was independent folks. My +mother was like that. Haley Stevens took his family to Texas soon as +freedom come on. Mother went with them. They treated her so nicely. Pa +wouldn't follow. He said she thought more of them than she did him. He +kept me with him. He married again. He was a barber at Selma, Alabama. +He died a barber at Anniston, Alabama. While my mother was in Texas +she went to see her mother in Hickory, Alabama. She was talking with a +tramp. He had helped my pa in the shop at Selma. Mother took the train +and come to pa's and my stepmother's house. I was fourteen years old +then and still wore a long shirt-like dress. They treated her the +nicest kind. She told them she was married to a man named Sims down in +Mississippi. She went back. I don't know where. The barber business was +a colored man's trade in the early days. + +"Soon after freedom I made two trips a day and carried my young +mistress' books to school. It was a mile for us to go 'round the road to +Pleasant Hill. She married C.C. Williams. I cooked for her. I cooked her +daughter's weddin' supper. She had two girls, Maude and Pearl. I worked +there fourteen years for my clothes and something to eat. Then I went to +myself. When I wasn't cooking I worked in Mr. C.C. Williams' sash and +blind factory. They was big rich folks. Mrs. Williams had a hundred rent +houses. She went about in her carriage and collected rent. That was at +Meridian, Mississippi. They learned me more than an education--to work. +She learned me to cook. I cooked all my life. I cooked here at the +Rusher Hotel till I got so old I was not able to do the work. + +"I do little odd jobs of work where I can find them. I 'plied for the +Old Age Pension but they give me commodities and that's all. I supports +my own self such as it be. + +"I find the young generation don't stick to jobs like I had to do. Seems +like they want an education to keep them out of work. Education does +some good and some more harm than good. Oh, times! Times is going fast. +Well with some I reckon. Some like me is done left. I mean I got slower. +Time getting faster. I'm done left outen the game. Time wait for no +man." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Minnie Johnson Stewart + 3210 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: Between 50 and 60? + + +"My mother's name was Mahala McElroy. Her master's name was Wiley +McElroy. She was living in Howard County, Arkansas near Nashville. She +worked in the field, and sewed in the house for her mistress. One time +she said she never would forget about slavery was a time when she was +thirteen years old, and the overseer beat her. + +"My mother was a real bright woman with great long black hair. Her +master was her father. She told me that the overseer grabbed her by her +hair and wound it 'round his arm and then grabbed her by the roots of it +and jerked her down to the ground and beat her till the blood ran out of +her nose and mouth. She was 'fraid to holler. + +"Mother married when she was fourteen. I can't remember the name of +her husband. The preacher was an old man, a faith doctor, who read the +ceremony. His name was Lewis Hill. + +"I heard mother say they beat my brother-in-law (his name was Dave +Denver) till he was bloody as a hog. Then they washed him down in salt +and water. Then they beat him again because he hollered. + +"She told us how the slaves used to try to pray. They were so scared +that the overseer would see them that early in the morning while they +were going to their work in the field at daybreak that they would fall +down on one knee and pray. They were so 'fraid that the overseer would +catch them that they would be watching for him with one eye and looking +for God with the other. But the Lord understood. + +"My mother was seventy years old when she died. She has been dead thirty +years." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Liza Stiggers, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 70 plus + + +"I was born in Poplar Grove, Arkansas on Col. Bibbs' place. Mama was +sold twice. Once she was sold in Georgia, once in Alabama, and brought +to Tennessee, later to Arkansas. Master Ben Hode brought her to +Arkansas. She had ten children and I'm the only one living. Mama was a +dancing woman. She could dance any figure. They danced in the cabins and +out in the yards. + +"The Yankees come one day to our house and I crawled under the house. I +was scared to death. They called me out. I was scared not to obey and +scared to come on out. I come out. They didn't hurt me. Mr. Ben Hode hid +a small trunk of money away. He got it after the War. The slaves never +did know where it was hid. They said the hair was on the trunk he hid +his money in. It was made out of green hide for that purpose. + +"Mama had a slave husband. He was a field hand and all kind of a hand +when he was needed. Mama done the sewing for white and black on the +place. She was a maid. She could cook some in case they needed her. She +died first. Papa's foot got hurt some way and it et off. He was so old +they couldn't cure it. He was named Alfred Hode. Mama was Viney Hode. +She said they had good white folks. They lived on Ben Hode's place two +or three years after freedom. + +"I farmed, cooked, and ironed all my life. I don't know how to do +nothing else. + +"I live with my daughter. I got a son." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: James Henry Stith + 2223 W. Nineteenth Street + Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I was born la Sparta in Hancock County, Georgia, in January 26, 1866. +My father was named William Henry Stith, and I was a little tot less +than two years old when my mother died. My father has called her name +often but I forget it. I forget the names of my father's father, too, +and of mother's people. That is too far back. + +"My father was born in 1818. He was born in Georgia. His master was +named W.W. Simpson. He had a master before Simpson. Simpson bought him +from somebody else. I never can remember the man's name. + + +Houses + +"The first houses I saw in Georgia were frame or brick houses. There +weren't any log houses 'round where I was brought up. Georgia wasn't a +log house state--leastwise, not the part I lived in. In another part +there were plenty of sawmills. That made lumber common. You could get +longleaf pine eighty to ninety feet long if you wanted it. Some little +towns didn't have no planing mills and you would have to send to Augusta +or to Atlanta for the planing work or else they would make planed lumber +by hand. I have worked for four and five weeks at a time dressing +lumber--flooring, ceiling, siding, moldings, and so on. + +"My father was still with Simpson when I remembered anything. At that +time the house we lived in was a weatherboarded house just like the ones +we live in now. It was a house that had been built since freedom. Old +man Simpson sent for my father and told him to build a house for himself +on the grounds. My father had been with Simpson for so long and had done +so much work for him during slave time that Simpson didn't want to do +without him. He supplied all the lumber and materials for my father. +During slave time, Simpson had hired my father out to the other planters +when he had nothing for him to do in the line of building on his own +plantation. He had had him to superintend his grist mill. All that was +in slavery time. My father was a highly skilled laborer. He could do a +lot of other things besides building. So when freedom came, he wanted +my father 'round him still. They both fished and hunted. He wanted my +father to go fishing with him and keep him company. My father was a +carpenter of the first class, you see, even in slave time. That was all +he done. He was brought up to be a carpenter and did nothing but that +all his time. My daddy was a mighty good mechanic. + + +Good Master + +"My daddy's master was a very good and kind one. My father was not under +any overseer. He worked directly under his master. + +"I remember one incident he told me. His master hired a new overseer who +hung around for a bit watching my father. Finally, my father asked him, +'Now, what are you able to do?' The overseer answered. 'Why, I can see +all over and whip all over, and that's as much as any damn man can do.' + +"Nobody was allowed to touch my father. He never had no trouble with +the pateroles either. Old man Simpson didn't allow that. He was a free +agent. When he wasn't working for Simpson, he was working for the next +big farmer, and then the next one, and then the next one, and old man +Simpson got wages for his work. Sometimes he worked a contract. Old man +Simpson couldn't afford to have him handicapped in his going and coming. +He could go whenever he wanted to go, and come back whenever he got +ready, with a pass or without one. His time was valuable. + +"The reason why so many slaves suffered as much as they did as a rule +was not because of the masters but because of the poor white trash +overseers. I know of several rich white women that had slaves that +wouldn't allow them to be mistreated. They would fire four and five +overseers to keep their slaves from being mistreated. + + +Mean Masters + +"But there were some mean masters. I have heard that right there in +Georgia there was one white planter--I think it was Brantley---who put +one of his slaves that had been unruly in a packing screw and ran it +down on him till he mashed him to death. The cotton screw was the thing +they pressed cotton bales in. They run it down by steam now, but then, +they used to run it down with two mules. They tell a lot of things like +that on Brantley. Of course, I couldn't personally know it, but I know +he was mighty mean and I know the way he died. + + +Bushwhacking the Ku Klux + +"He belonged to the paterole gang and they went out after the Negroes +one night after freedom. The Negroes bushwhacked them and killed four or +five of them. They give it out that the men that was killed had gone to +Texas. Brantley was one of the killed ones. The pateroles was awful bad +at that time. Ku Klux they called them after the War, but they was the +same people. I never heard of the Klan part till this thing come up +that they have now. They called them Ku Klux back when I was a boy. My +stepmother carried me over to Brantley's house the night he got killed. +So I know the Texas he went to. That was in '69 or '70. He lived about a +mile from us and when he got killed, she carried me over to see him just +like we would have gone to see any other neighbor. + +"The Negroes were naturally afraid of the Ku Klux but they finally got +to the place where they were determined to break it up. They didn't have +no ropes, but they would take grapevines and tie them across the road +about breast high when a man would be on horseback. The Ku Klux would +run against these vines and be knocked off their horses into the road +and then the bushwhackers would shoot them. When Ku Klux was killed in +this manner, it was never admitted; but it was said that they had gone +to Texas. There was several of them went to Texas one night. + + +Amusements + +"There weren't many amusements in slave times. They had dances with +fiddle music. There was mighty few darkies could get out to go to dances +because the pateroles was so bad after them. I don't know of any other +amusements the slaves had. They were playing baseball when I was born. +There were boys much older than I was already playing when I was old +enough to notice, so I think they must have known about it in slave +time. They didn't play much in that way because they didn't have time. + + +Slaves who Bought Themselves + +"I have heard tell of some Negroes that was thrifty and got money enough +from side work to buy themselves. They had to go North then because they +couldn't live in the South free. I don't remember their names just now. + + +Church + +"The slaves had church. Sometimes they had church at one another's +house. I don't think they ever built them a church house. But they could +go to the white folks' church if they wanted to. + + +How Freedom Came + +"My daddy's master told my father he was free. He told him that in 1865. +He told him that he was free to do as he pleased, that he could come +when he pleased and go when he pleased. 'Course, he told him he wanted +him to stay around him--not to go off. + + +Soldiers + +"I have heard my father speak of soldiers, but they were too busy 'round +Atlanta and up that way to git down where my father was. They don't seem +to have bothered his town. They never made my father do any labor in the +army neither. My father was mixed Indian, white, and Negro. + + +Marriage + +"Slaves had to get the consent of their masters to marry. Sometimes +masters would want them to go and would even buy the woman they wanted +to keep them contented on the plantation. Sometimes the masters wouldn't +do anything but let them visit. They would marry--what they called +marriage in those days--and the husband would have to git permission +from his master to go visit his wife and git permission from her master +to come there. He would go on Saturday night and get back in time for +his work on Monday morning. It was just like raising stock and mating +it. + +"I have been married fifty-one years. I have been married twice though. +My first wife died in 1900. I have been married to my second wife +thirty-four years last April. Those were real marriages. + + +Opinions + +"I can't say much along these lines. The chance to make a living looks +so dark I can't see much of a future. Things seem to be getting worse. +Nearly everybody I talk with, white or colored, seems to think the same. +It is like Senator Glass said. 'If Congress would close up and go home +at once, times would get better.' People don't know what kind of fool +law Congress is going to make and they are not going to spend much +money. I don't think Mr. Roosevelt's pump priming will do much good +because you must keep adding to it or it will go away. + +"I don't think much of the young people. These nineteenth or twentieth +century Negroes is something fierce I'm telling you. + + +Vocational Experiences + +"I am a carpenter. I wish I wasn't. The depression has made it so that +the Negroes get very little to do. What they have they give to their +own people. They don't have much for nobody. Even if the nigger gets +something, he gets very little out of it. But the main trouble is there +isn't anything to do. + +"I have been a carpenter for fifty-four years. I have been here +fifty-one years. I have never had no trouble earning a living till now. +I can't do it now. The biggest obstacle of the success of the Negro +carpenter is that Negroes don't have the money to build with. They must +get the money from the white man. The white man, on the other hand, if +he lets out the money for the building, has the say-so on who will +do it, and he naturally picks out another white man. That keeps the +majority of Negroes out of work as far as carpentry is concerned. It +does in a time like this. When times is better, the white man does not +need to be so tight, and he can divide up." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella Anderson, colored +Caroline Stout + + +EX-SLAVES + +I was born in Alabama in slavery time. I was sold from my mother after I +was five years old and never did see her again. Was sold to a family by +the name of Mr. Games. There were six of them in family and I was the +seventh. They were very nice to me until I was about 10 years of age. +I would attend to the little kids. They were all boys. Had to sleep on +straw beds and been cooking for myself ever since I was 8 years old. +When about ten they started putting hard work on me and had to pick +cotton and do the work around the house. Was a slave for about 15 years. +After I was freed I moved to Union County and been here ever since. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Felix Street + 822 Schiller Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +I was born in Dickson County, Tennessee, fifty miles north of Nashville, +in 1864. It was on December twenty-eighth. My father told me when he was +living how old I was. He told me all the way along, and I remember it. + +"Nannie, Jeff, Hardy, John Mack, and Felix (that's me) are my father's +children by his first wife. Lena, Martha, Esther are his children by his +second wife. He had five children by my mother, and four of them lived +to be grown, and one died in infancy. My mother was his first wife. Her +name was Mary Street. Her name before she married--hold a minute, lemme +see--seems like it was Mary--Mary--Street. + +"My father and my mother couldn't have lived on the same plantation +because she was a May and he was a Street. I don't know how they met. + +"My father's master's name was Jick Street. He owned, to my knowing, my +father, Bill Street; Henry Street, and Ed Street. He might have owned +more but I heard my father say he owned those. + +"My father said his white people weren't very wealthy. He and his +brother had to go and cut cordwood, both summer and winter. And they was +allowed so much work for a task. Their task was nine cords a week for +each man. That was equal to a cord and a half a day for each man each +day. My father would cut his wood like a man ought to cut it. But he +said my uncle wouldn't git at his task. He would drink whiskey all the +week. They'd get after him about bein' behind with his work, but he +would say, 'Never mind that; I won't be behind Monday morning.' On +Sunday morning at nine o'clock, he would get up and begin to cut on that +wood. And on Monday morning at nine o'clock, he would have nine cords +cut for his white folks and four or five for himself. It would all be +done before nine o'clock Monday morning. + + +Living Brother + +"I recently seen my brother Jeff Davis Street. I haven't seen him +before for sixty-one years. He blew in here from Texas with a man named +Professor Smuggers. He lives in Malakoff, Texas. It's been sixty-one +years since he was where I could see him, but he says he saw me +fifty-nine years ago. He came back home and I was 'sleep, he says, and +he didn't wake me up. He rambled around a little and stood and looked at +me awhile, he says. He was seventeen years old and I was twelve. + +"My brother had a lot of children. He had four girls with him. He had a +boy somewheres. He is older than I am. + +"I heard my father say that in time of war, they were taking up folks +that wouldn't join them and putting them in prison. They picked a white +fellow up and had him tied with a rope and carried him down to a creek +and were tying him up by his thumbs. He saw my father coming and said: +'There's a colored man I know.' My father said he knew him. They let +him go when my father said he knew him and that he didn't harbor +bushwhackers. Every time he saw my father after that he would say, +'Bill, you sure did save my life.' + +"My father and mother lived in a log cabin. They had homemade furniture. +They had a bunk up side the wall and a trundle bed. That was the cabin +they lived in in slavery time. + + +Soldiers + +"My father said once that when the men were gone, the soldiers came +in and asked the women to cook for them. They wouldn't do it; so the +soldiers made them bring them a chunk of fire. They throwed the fire on +the bed and when it got to burning good, the officer wouldn't let them +put it out. But he told them that they could get some of the boys to +help them carry out their things if the boys were willing to do it. It +was the officers who wanted the women to cook for them. It wasn't the +slaves they asked; it was the white folks. + + +Sold His Master + +"I heard my stepmother--I call her my mother--say some thing once. She +belonged to a white family named Bell. They had a lot of slaves. My +stepmother was the house girl; so she could get on to a lot of things +the others couldn't. She stayed in the house. That was in slavery times. +The speculators who were buying colored folks would put up at that +place. Looked like a town but it all belonged to one person. The name of +the place was Cloverdale, Tennessee. My stepmother said that a gang of +these folks put up at Cloverdale once and then went on to Nashville, +Tennessee. On the next day a nigger sold the speculator. He was educated +and a mulatto, and he sold his master in with a bunch of other niggers. +He was just fixin' to take the money, when his master got aware of it, +and come on up just in time. I don't know what happened to the nigger. +It was just an accident he got caught. My stepmother said it was true. + + +Good Masters + +"My mother had a good master. At least, she said he was good. Slaves +from other plantations would run away and come to her master's place to +stay. They would stay a good while. + +"My father said his master was good to him too. My father's young master +has come to see us since the War. He got down low and used to come +'round. My father would give him turns of corn. You know when you used +to go to the mill, you would carry about two bushels of corn and call it +a milling or a turn. My father would let his young master shell a bushel +or two of corn and carry it to the mill. He got poor and sure 'nough you +see. We had moved away from them then, and he got in real hard luck. He +used to come and sit a half day at a time at our house. And father would +give him the corn for his family. We were living in Dickson County, +Tennessee then. Seems like we was on Frank Hudson's place. We hadn't +bought a place for ourselves then. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"You know they used to ku klux the niggers. They went to the house after +the War of an old man named Hall. They demanded for him to let them in +but he wouldn't. They said that they would break open the door if he +didn't let them in. He didn't let them in, and they broke it down. +When they started in, his wife threw fire brands in amongst 'em and he +knicked one down with an ax. Them that wasn't hurt carried the wounded +man away and it was reported the next day that he was sick. They never +did bother the nigger no more and he never had no charges made against +him. + + +Runaway Negroes--After Freedom + +"It was over forty years ago. Me and my wife lived at a big sawmill near +Elliott, Arkansas, just ten miles outside of Camden. White folks used to +come up there and catch niggers and carry them back to Louisiana with +them, claiming that they owed debts. One time two white men came to +Elliott looking for a nigger. They came through the Negro quarters and +all the men were off that day because it was a holiday. The nigger saw +them first and ran to the woods. They ran after him and caught him. They +came back through the quarters and tied him to one of the horses and +then went on to Louisiana--them ridin' and him walkin' tied up with his +arms behind him and roped to the horse like he was some kind of cattle +or something. The niggers followed them with guns a little distance, but +one nigger telephoned to El Dorado and the officers there were on the +lookout for them. At night, the officers in plain clothes went over and +chatted with them white men. When they saw the nigger, they asked what +it was they had there. They told the one that asked that it was a damn +nigger that owed money back in Louisiana and got smart and run away +without paying up. The officers drew their guns and put handcuffs on +them and carried them and the nigger away to Jail. + +"They put everybody in jail that night. But the next morning they +brought them to trial and fined the white men a hundred and fifty +dollars apiece and after the trial they turned the nigger loose. That +broke up the stealing of niggers. Before that they would come and take a +Negro whenever they wanted to. + +"Niggers were just beginning to wake up then, and know how to slip away +and run off. We had whole families there that had run off one by one. +The man would run away and leave his children, and as they got old +enough, they would follow him one by one. + + +Right After the War + +"Right after the War, my people farmed on shares. We had a place we +leased on the Hudson place that we stayed on. We leased it for five +years but we stayed there seven or maybe eleven years. When we left +there we bought a place of our own. On the Hudson place we cleared up +about thirty acres of land and 'tended it as long as we stayed there. We +put out a lot of fruit trees on it. Had lots of peaches, and plums, and +quinces--do you know what quinces are?--and danvils (these danvil plums +you know). They are kinda purple looking fruit made in the shape of a +prune. They are about two inches through--jus' about half as big as your +fist. + +"When we moved to our own place, we stayed in the same county. It was +just about three-fourths of a mile from the Hudson place--west of it. + + +Moving to Arkansas + +"I came to Arkansas with the intention of going to school. But I jus' +messed myself up. Instead of goin' to school, I went and got married. +I was out here just one year before I got married. I married the first +time in 1887--February fourteenth, I think. My first wife taken sick +with rheumatism and she died in 1908. We were married thirty-one years. +I married again about 1913. + + +Vocational Experiences + +"When I was able to work, I worked in the railroad shops--boiler maker's +helper. Before that I farmed and did other things. Went from trackman to +machinist's helper and boilermaker's helper. + + +Opinions + +"Young folks Just need the right handlin'. + +"I don't mix in politics." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Tabon, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 67 + + +"Pa was sold twice to my knowing. He was sold to McCoy, then to +Alexander. He was Virginian. Then he was carried to Alabama and brought +to Holly Grove by the Mayos. I have wore four names, Alexander, Adams, +Morgan, and Tabon. + +"My mother's owners was Ellis from Alabama. She said she was sold from +the Scales to Ellis. Her father, sister, and two brothers was sold from +Ellis. She never seen them no more. They found Uncle Charles Ellis dead +in the field. They never knowed how it come. + +"My parents had hard times during slavery. Ma had a big scar on her +shoulder where the overseer struck her with a whoop. She was chopping +cotton. She either wasn't doing to suit him or wasn't getting along fast +enough to suit him. + +"Ma had so many little ones to raise she give me to Nancy Bennett. I +love her soul in her grave. I helped her to do all her work she taught +me. She'd leave me with her little boy and go to church and I'd make +cakes and corn bread. She brag on me. We'd have biscuits on Sunday +morning. They was a rarity. + +"One day she had company. She told me to bake some potatoes with the +jackets on. I washed the potatoes and wrapped them up in rags and boiled +them. It made her so mad she wet the towel and whooped me with it. I +unwrapped the potatoes and we had them that way for dinner. That was the +maddest she ever got at me. She learned me to cook and keep a nice house +and to sew good as anybody. I rather know how to work than be educated. + +"Mr. Ash give me a lot of scraps from his garment factory. I made them +up in quilts. He give me enough to make three dresses. I needed dresses +so bad." (One dress has sixty-six pieces in it but it didn't look like +that. They sent it to Little Tock and St. Louis for the county fairs. +Her dresses looked fairly well.) + +"I was born at Holly Grove, Arkansas. Alexander was the name my pa went +by and that was my maiden name." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Liza Moore Tanner, Helena, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in north Georgia. It was not fer from Rome. We belong to +Master Belton Moore and Miss Jane Moore. They had a big family, some +grandchildren old as their own. That was my job playing wid the +children. My parents' name Rob Moore and Pilfy Calley. She lived five +miles from Belton Moore's house. She was hired out over at Moore's the +way she and papa met up. I know now I was hired out too. I run after +them children a long time it seemed like to me. I loved them and they +cried after me. I get so tired I'd slip off and go up in the loft and +soon be asleep. I learned to climb a ladder that very way. It was nailed +up straight against the side of the wall. They'd ask me where I been. +They never did whoop me fer that. I tell 'em I been asleep. I drapped +off 'sleep. I was so tired. Papa helped with the young calves and the +feeding and in the field too. Mama was a fast hand in the field. They +called her a little guinea woman. She could outdo me when I was grown +and she was getting old. She washed fer the Calley's. All I remember +they was a old man and woman. Mama lived in the office at their house. +He let her ride a horse to Moore's to work. I rode home wid her many a +time. She rode a side saddle. I rode sideways too. She used a battling +stick long as she lived when she washed. + +"Papa died two years after the surrender in Atlanta, Georgia. The +Moore's moved there and he went along. He left mama at Master Calley's +and I was still kept at the old home place. Aunt Jilly kept me and my +two oldest sisters. Her name was Jilly Calley. I seen mama right often. +They fetched papa back to see us a few times and then he died. We all +went to Atlanta where he was buried. Mama lived to be purty nigh a +hundred years old. She had fourteen children. I had two sisters and +eight half-brothers and three half-sisters. Some died so young they +never was named. My stepfather was mean to her and beat her, caused some +of their deaths. She was a midwife in her later years. She made us a +living till I married. She was gone with Dr. Harrison a lot. He'd come +take her off and bring her home in the buggy. I married and immigrated +to Dell, Arkansas. We lived there a year and went to Memphis. Mama come +there and died at my house. She got blind. Had to lead her about. My +steppapa went off and never come back. He got drunk whenever he could +get to it. We hunted him and asked about him. I think he went off with +other women. We heard he did. + +"Freedom--I heard Miss Jane say when she was packing up to go to +Atlanta, 'I will get a nurse there. They will make her go to school.' I +thought she was talking about me. I wanted to go. I loved the children. +I got to go to school in the country a right smart. I can read and +write. Me and my two sisters all was in the same class. It seemed +strange then. We had a colored man teacher, Mr. Jacobin. It was easier +for me to learn than my sisters. They are both dead now. + +"I got three living children--one here and two in Memphis. After I got +my hip broke I live about with them so they can wait on me. + +"I don't know about this new way of living. My daughter in Memphis +raising her little girl by a book. She don't learn her as much manners +as children used to know. She got it from the white lady she works for. +It tells how to do your child. Times done changed too much to suit my +way of knowing. 'The Old Time Religion' is the only good pattern fer +raising a family. Mighty little of that now." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson +Person interviewed: Fannie Tatum, Junction City, Arkansas +Age: Born 1862 + + +"I was born on Wilmington landing in 1862 on the Ouachita River and was +carried away when I was two years old. My mother ran away and left my +sister and me when we was three and five years old. I never saw her any +more till I was eight and after I was eight years old I never saw her +again in forty years. After my mama left me old Master Neal come here to +El Dorado and had me bound to him until I was twenty-one. I stayed there +till I was twenty-one. I slept by the jamb of the fireplace on a sack of +straw and covered with saddle blankets. That was in the winter when snow +was waist high. In summer I slept on naked floor and anywhere I laid +down was my bed just like a dog. + +"I wasn't allowed to eat at the table. I et on the edge of the porch +with the dogs with my fingers. I worked around the house and washed +until I was nine and then I started to plowing. At ten I started +splitting rails. My task was two hundred rails a day. If I didn't cut +them I got a beating. I did not know what a coat was. I wore two pieces, +a lowel[HW:?] underskirt and a lowel[HW:?] dress, bachelor brogans and +sacks and rags wrapped around my legs for stockings. That was in winter. +Summer I went barefooted and wore one piece. My sun hat was a rag tied +on my head. + +"I did not know anything about Sunday School nor church. The children +would try to teach me my ABC's but master would not let them. Never +visited any colored people. If I see a colored person coming I run from +them. They said they might steal me. After I got grown they let me go +to a colored party and they whipped me for going. Tried to make me tell +whether or not a boy come home with me but I did not tell it; one come +with me though. That was the first time I got out. Of course they sent +one of the boys along with me but he would not tell on me. + +"I never slept in a bed until I was twenty-two years old. Never was with +any colored people until I was grown. My play was with white children. +My father was a white man. He was my ma's old master and they was Neals. +They kept my hair cut off like a boy's all the time. I never wore a +stocking until I was twenty-two and my hair did not grow out and get +combed until I was twenty-two. My old master and mistress would have +been mean to me but I was so smart they did not get a chance. The only +thing I was treated like a dog. + +"I live in Junction City but am here visiting my daughter." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Anthony Taylor + 2424 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 68, or 78? + + +"I was born in Clark County adjoining Hot Spring County, between Malvern +and Arkadelphia. Clark County was named after old man General Clark. He +was worth four or five thousand acres of land. + +"My father's name was Anthony McClellan. Why they called me Anthony +Taylor was my stepfather was named Taylor. My mother's name was Lettie +Sunnaville. My mother has been dead thirty or forty years and my father +died six months before I was born. He died a natural death. Sickness. He +was exposed and died of pneumonia. + +"Fayette Sunnaville was my grandfather on my mother's side. That was +my mother's father. Rachel Sunnaville was my mother's mother's name. I +don't know the names of my father's people. They was _sole_[HW:?] +in slavery. But it is been so far back; I don't remember nothing, and I +don't know whether they would or not if they was living. + +"We stayed on the old plantation for seven or eight years before we had +sense enough or knowed enough to get away from there and git something +for ourselves. That is how I come to raise such big potatoes. I been +raising them fifty years. These are hill potatoes. You have to know how +to raise potatoes to grow 'em this big. (He showed me some potatoes, +sweet, weighing about seven pounds--ed.) + +"I have heard my mother and my grandfather tell lots of stories about +slavery. I can't remember them. + +"Old man Bullocks had about eight or ten families that I knew about. +Those were the families that lived right near us in the quarters. I +didn't say eight or ten hands--I said eight or ten families. Them was +the ones that was right near us. We was awful small after freedom but +them what was with him stayed with him quite a while--stayed with the +old master. He would pay them so much after freedom come. + +"Lawd. I could tell you things about slavery. But I'm forgitful and I +can't do it all at once. He had the whole county from Arkadelphia clean +down to Princeton and Tulip--our old mars did. Lonoke was between +Princeton and Tulip. Princeton was the county-seat. He must have had a +large number of slaves. Those ten families I knew was just those close +'round us. Most of the farm was _fur_ pine country land. There +would be thirty or forty acres over here of cultivation and then thirty +or forty acres over there of woods and so on. He had more land than +anybody else but it wasn't all under cultivation. + +"He's been dead now twenty or thirty years. I don't know that he was +mean to his slaves. If he had been, they wouldn't have gone on after +freedom. They would have moved out. You see, they didn't care for +nothing but a little something to eat and a fine dress and they would +have gone on to somebody else and got that. + +"Wasn't no law then. He was the law. I worked all day long for ten cents +a day. They would allowance you so many pounds of meat, so much meal, so +much molasses. I have worked all day for ten cents and then gone out at +night to get a few potatoes. I have pulled potatoes all day for a peck +of meal and I was happy at that. I never did know what the price of +cotton was. + +"Where we was, the Ku Klux never did bother anybody. All there was, +every time we went out we had to have a pass. + +"My grandfather and grandmother were both whipped sometimes. I don't +know the man that whipped them. I don't know whether it was the agent or +the owner or who, but they were whipped. Lots of times they had work to +do and didn't do it. Naturally they whipped them for it. That was what +they whipped my grandparents for. Sometimes too, they would go off and +wouldn't let the white folks know where they was going. Sometimes they +would neglect to feed the horses or to milk the cows--something like +that. That was the only reason I ever heard of for punishing them. + +"I heard that if the boss man wanted to be with women that they had, the +women would be scared not to be with him for fear he would whip them. +And when they started whipping them for that they kept on till they got +what they wanted. They would take them 'way off and have dealings with +them. That is where so much of that yellow and half-white comes from. + +"There was some one going through telling the people that they was free +and that they was their own boss. But yet and still, there's lots of +them never did leave the man they was with and lots of them left. There +was lots of white people that wouldn't let a nigger tell their niggers +that they was free, because they wanted to keep them blind to that for +years. Kept them for three or four years anyway. Them that Bullocks +liked was crazy about him. He would give them a show--so much a month +and their keeps. I don't remember exactly how much it was but it was +neighborhood price. He was a pretty good man. Of course, you never seen +a white man that wouldn't cheat a little. + +"He'd cheat you out of a little cotton. He would have the cotton carried +to the gin. He would take half the corn and give us five or six shoats. +After he got the cotton all picked and sold, the cotton it would all go +to him for what you owed him for furnishing you. You never saw how much +cotton was ginned, nor how much he got for it, nor how much it was worth +nor nothing. They would just tell you you wasn't due nothing. They did +that to hold you for another year. You got nothing to move on so you +stay there and take what he gives you. + +"Of all the crying you ever heard, one morning we'd got up and the pigs +and hogs in the lot that we had fattened to go on that winter, he was +catching them. After we'd done fattened them with the corn that was +our share, he took 'em and sold 'em. We didn't even know we owed him +anything. We thought the crops had done settled things. Nobody told us +nothin'. All we children cried. The old man and the old woman didn't say +nothing, because they was scared. My mother would get up and go down and +milk the cows and what she'd get for the milking would maybe be a bucket +of buttermilk. + +"We'd have a spoonful of black molasses and corn bread and buttermilk +for breakfast. We got flour bread once a week. We would work hard all +the week talkin' 'bout what good biscuits we'd have Sunday morning. Sack +of flour would last two or three months because we wouldn't cook flour +bread only once a week--Saturday night or Sunday morning. + +"We had no skillet at that time. We would rake the fireplace and push +the ashes back and then you would put the cake down on the hearth or on +a piece of paper or a leaf and then pull the ashes over the cake to cook +it. Just like you roast a sweet potato. Then when it got done, you would +rake the ashes back and wash the cake and you would eat it. Sometimes +you would strike a little grit or gravel in it and break your teeth. But +then I'm tellin' you the truth about it. + +"When our hogs was taken that time, we didn't have nothing to go on that +winter. They would compel us to stay. They would allowance us some meat +and make us split rails and clear up land for it. It was a cinch if he +didn't give it to you you couldn't get nothin'. Wasn't no way to get +nothing. Then when crop time rolled 'round again they would take it all +out of your crops. Make you split rails and wood to earn your meat and +then charge it up to your crop anyhow. But you couldn't do nothin' 'bout +it. + +"Sometimes a barrel of molasses would set up in the smokehouse and turn +to sugar. You goin' hungry and molasses wastin'. They was determined not +to give you too much of it. + +"I made my way by farming. After I got to be some size, I started at it. +I farmed all my life. While I could work, things was pretty good. Wisht +I was on a farm now. Even when I'm 'round here sick, I can git these +potatoes raised with a little help from the neighbors. + +"I don't belong to church. I oughter, but I don't. Then again, I figure +that a man can be just as good out of it as he can in it. I've got good +desires, but I never confessed to the public. + +"I have had three hundred dollars worth of stuff stolen from me. +Everything I produced is stolen from me because I have no way to protect +myself. What I raise if I don't get shet of it right away, the people +get shet of it for me. I had eighty head of chickens in the barn out +there runnin' 'round. When I got sick and was in the bed and couldn't +help myself, the chickens went. In the daytime, they would fix traps and +jerk a string and pull a board down on them and then go out in the weeds +and get them. I never reported nothin' to the police. I wasn't able to +report nothing. I was just batching, and now and then people would come +in and report them to me. They would wait till they saw somebody come +in and when they saw that I was talking and wouldn't notice them, they +would steal anything they wanted. The police came by here and ran them +once. But that didn't do no good. + +"Once somebody stole an automatic shotgun. They stole a colt one time. +They stole all my clothes and pawned them to a whiskey dealer. He got +sent to the pen for selling whiskey, but I didn't get my clothes. +They come in the yard and steal my potatoes, collards, turnips, ochre +(okra?), and so on. I lay there in the bed and see them, but I can't +stop them. All I can do is to holler, 'You better go on and let them +things alone.' Ever since the last war, I haven't been able to work. I +am bare-feeted and naked now on account of not bein' able to support +myself. + +"I just come out of the hospital. I been too sick even to work in my +garden. After I come home I taken a backset[TR: ?] but I am still +staying here. I am just here on the mercies of the people. I don't +get nothing but what the people give me. I don't get no moddities nor +nothin' from the Government. + +"I ain't never been able to get no help from the Government. Long time +ago, I went down to the place and asked for help and they told me that +since I was alone, I oughta be able to help myself. They gimme a ticket +for twenty meals and told me by the time I ate them up, they might have +something else they could do for me. I told them I couldn't go back and +forth to git the meals. I have the ticket now. I couldn't git to the +place to use it none, so I keep it for a keepsake. It is 'round here +somewheres or other. I was past the pension age. I ain't been able to do +no steady work since the war. I was too old for the war--the World War." + + +Interviewer's Comment [HW: omit] + +The spelling of the name Sunnaville is phonetic. I don't recognize the +name and he couldn't spell it of course. + +When I called, he had potatoes that weighed at least seven pounds. They +were laid out on the porch for sale. He had a small patch in his yard +which he cultivated, and had gotten about ten bushels from it. + +His account of slavery times is so vivid that you would consider his age +nearer eighty than sixty-eight. A little questioning reveals that he +has no idea of his age although he readily gives it as sixty-eight--a +memorized figure. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Lula Taylor, R.F.D., east of town, + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 71 + + +"My mother was sold five times. She was sold when she was too little to +remember her mother. Her mother was Charity Linnerman. They favored. She +was dark and granny was light colored. My mother didn't love her mother +like I loved her. + +"Granny lived in a house behind the white church (?) in Helena. After +freedom we kept writing till we got in tetch with her. We finally got +granny with us on the Jefferies place at Clarendon. + +"A man (Negro) come by and conjured my mother. She was with Miss Betty +Reed (or Reid) up north of Lonoke. They was my mother's last owners. +That old man made out like she stole things when he stole them his own +black self. He'd make her hide out like she stole things. She had a +sweetheart and him and his wife. She had to live with them. They stole +her off from her last owner, Miss Betty Reed. They didn't like her +sweetheart. They was going to marry. He bought all her wedding clothes. +When she didn't marry him she let him have back all the weddin' clothes +and he buried his sister in them. This old man was a conjurer. He give +my mother a cup of some kind of herbs and made her drink it. He tole her +all her love would go to Henry Deal. He liked him. He was my papa. Her +love sure did leave her sweetheart and go to my papa. He bought her some +nice clothes. She married in the clothes he got her. She was so glad +to let go that old man and woman what conjured her 'way from her white +folks to wait on them. + +"Granny's head was all split open. I lived to see all that. White folks +said her husband done it but she said one of her old master's struck her +on the head with a shoe last. + +"My papa said he'd hit boards and stood on them all day one after +another working cold days. + +"Master Wade Deal at freedom give papa a pair of chickens, goats, sheep, +turkeys, a cow; and papa cleared ten acres of ground to pay for his +first mule. He bought the mule from Master Wade Deal. + +"Old Master Deal used to run us from behind him plowing. We tease +him, say what he'd say to the horse or mule. He'd lock us up in the +smokehouse. We'd eat dried beef and go to sleep. He was a good old man. + +"Grandpa Henry Pool went to war. Papa was sold from the Pools to the +Deals. Grandpa played with us. He'd put us all up on a horse we called +Old Bill. He said he got so used to sleeping on his blanket on the +ground in war times till he couldn't sleep on a bed. He couldn't get off +asleep. + +"Grandpa found a pitcher of gold money been buried in old Master Pool's +stable. He give it to them. They knowed it was out there. + +"Mother was with Miss Betty Reed in most of war times. Miss Betty hid +their jewelry and money. She spoke of the Yankees coming and kill pretty +chickens and drink up a churn of fresh milk turned ready for churning. +It be in the chimney corner to keep warm. They'd take fat horses and +turn their poor ones in the lot. They never could pass up a fat hog. +They cleaned out the corn crib. + +"All my kin folks was field hands. I ploughed all day long. + +"Papa said his ole mistress Deal was out under an apple tree peeling +apples to dry. A white crane flew over the tree and fluttered about over +her. Next day she died. Then the old man married a younger woman. + +"It is so about the pigeons at Pigeon Roost (Wattensaw, Arkansas). They +weighted trees down till they actually broke limbs and swayed plenty of +them. That was the richest land you ever seen in your life when it was +cleared off. Folks couldn't rest for killing pigeons and wasted them +all up. I was born at Pigeon Roost on Jim High's place. I seen a whole +washpot full of stewed pigeon. It was fine eating. It was a shame to +waste up all the pigeons and clear out the place." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Millie Taylor + 1418 Texas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"Yes'm, I was born in slavery times in Calhoun County, Mississippi. + +"Bill Armstrong was my owner. He's been dead a long time. + +"My folks stayed on there a good while. + +"Pa said they was good to him but they wasn't good to my ma. I heered pa +say they beat her till she died. I don't remember a thing 'bout my ma. + +"I heered 'em talk 'bout the Ku Klux. They kep' that in my hearin' so +much that I kep' that in my remembrance. + +"I know when we stayed on the place pa said was old master's. Yes'm, I +sure 'members dat. I know we stayed there till pa married again. + +"Bill Armstrong's wife made our clothes. I know we stayed right in the +yard with some more colored folks. + +"Pa worked on the shares and rented too. + +"I was twenty-four when I come from Mississippi here. I was married +then and had three chillun. But they all dead now. I stays here with my +grandson. I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for him. I reckon I'd +just be knockin' around--no tellin'. + +"I got another grandson lives in Marvell. I went there to visit and I +got so I couldn't walk, so my grandson carried me to the doctor. And he +just looked at me--he had been knowin' me so long. I said, 'Don't you +know me?' And he said, 'If you'd take off your hat I think I'd know +you.' And he said, 'Well, for the Lawd, if it ain't Millie Taylor!' + +"I've always done farmin'. That's the way I was raised--farmin'. I just +looks at these folks in town and it seems funny to me to buy ever'thing +you need. Looks to me like they would rather raise it. + +"Oh, Lawd, don't talk about this young race. It looks to me like they is +more heathe'nish. The Bible say they would be weaker and wiser but they +is just too wise for their own good. I just looks at 'em and I don't +know what to think about this young race. They is a few respects you and +theirselves. + +"I seen things here in town I didn't think I'd ever see. Seems like the +people in the country act like they recognize you more. + +"I has a good remembrance. Seems like I gets to studyin' 'bout it and it +just comes to me like ABC. I know pa used to talk and tell us things and +if I didn't believe it, I didn't give him no cross talk. But nowadays if +chillun don't believe what you say, they goin' try to show you a point. + +"Yes ma'am, folks is livin' a fast life--white and colored. + +"Looks like the old folks has worked long enough for the white folks +till they ought to have enough to live on." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sarah Taylor, R.F.D., Madison, Arkansas +Age: 70 + + +"I was born in Releford County, Tennessee, ten miles from Murfreesboro. +My parents belonged to Dr. Jimmy Manson. He was off and gone from home +nearly all the time. He didn't have a Negro driver. Because he didn't +they called us all Manson's free niggers. Folks didn't like it because +we had so much freedom. One day a terrible thing happened broke up our +happy way of living on Dr. Manson's place. + +"Grandpa was part Indian. Dr. Jimmy didn't whoop. He visited and he'd +get a jug of whiskey, call his niggers and give them a little, make them +feel good and get them in a humor for working. Dr. Jimmy had a nigger +overseer. They was digging a ditch and making a turnpike from Dr. +Manson's place to Murfreesboro. They told grandpa to drive down in the +ditch with his load of rock and let the white folks drive up on the +dump. They was hauling and placing rock on the dump to make a turnpike. +In Tennessee it was a law if a man owned a nigger he had to whoop him or +have him whooped. If he didn't he had to sell him. They told grandpa +if he didn't do as they said they would whoop him, then they said they +would break his back. They took the fussing to Dr. Jimmy for him to +whoop grandpa. He sold him to nigger traders and they drove him to +Mississippi. Mother never seen him no more. Grandma died of grief. She +had nine girls and no boys. After freedom seven went North and mama, +was Jane, and Aunt Betty lived on in Tennessee, and I lived some in +Mississippi. That's the reason I hate Mississippi to this very day. + +"The day they fit on Stone River in Tennessee, brother Hood was born. He +was born during the battle. I guess they moved off of Dr. Jimmy's place +at freedom, for I was born on Jack Little's place. + +"The times is passing faster than I want it to and I'm doing very well. +I don't never meddle in young folks' business and I don't 'low them +meddling in mine. Folks is the ones making times so hard. Some making +times hard for all rest of us can't help ourselves. It is sin and +selfishness makes times so hard. Young folks no worse than some not so +very old. It ain't young folks making times hard. It's older ones so +greedy. They don't have no happiness and don't want to see old ones live +nor the young ones neither." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Warren Taylor + 3200 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +My people are all from Richmond, Virginia. I was just four years old +when they come here. My father was in charge of all the machinery. He +ran the gin. Didn't do anything else. My mother was a house girl. The +kids learned her everything they learned in school. She knew everything. +My father died when I was young. My mother lived till she was eighty. +But the time she was fifty, I bought her a home and sat her down on +Pulaski Street in that home. And that is why I have so little trouble. + +"My ma belonged to Hoffman. He sold her to Wiley Adams. He carried her +to Mississippi. She stayed there for a short time and then came to +Arkansas. He settled in a little place called Tulip, Arkansas. Then +freedom came and we came to Little Rock and settled at what is now +Seventh and Ringo Streets; but then it was just a stage road leading to +Benton, Arkadelphia, and other places. Stages passed twice a day with +passengers and freight. No railroads at all then. The government kept +the roads up. They had the arsenal hall where the city park is and had +a regiment of soldiers there. The work on that road was kept up by the +soldiers. That was under Grant's administration. I never saw but +three presidents--three Democratic presidents--Cleveland, Wilson, and +Roosevelt. + +"My father's master was named Lee. He married my mother back in +Virginia. My daddy's people when he was freed was named Taylor. He died +when I was young and he never gave me any details about them. + + +Good Masters + +"The Adamses were good to my mother. And they help her even after +freedom. Charlie Adams and Mack Adams of Malvern, Arkansas. John was the +sheriff and ran a store. Mack was a drummer for the Penzl Grocery. When +my mother was ill, he used to bring her thirty dollars at a time. Every +two months she had to go down to Malvern when she was well and carry an +empty trunk and when she would come back it would be full. My mother was +wet-nurse to the Adamses and they thought the world and all of her. + + +Marriage + +"They had a good opinion of their house servants. That is how she and my +father came to belong to different families. One white man would say to +the other, 'I got a good boy. I'm going to let him come over to see your +girl.' He would be talking about a Negro man that worked around his +house and a Negro girl that worked for the other man. That would be all +right. So that's the way my father went to see my mother. He was married +in the way they always married in those days. You know how it was. There +was no marriage at all. They just went on out and got the woman and the +white man said, 'There she is. You are man and wife.' + + +Right After the War + +"My father died before freedom. My mother lived with him until her folks +moved away from his folks. Then she was separated from him and left him +in Mississippi. She belonged to one white man and he to another, and +that could happen any time. + +"Right after freedom, she stayed with these white people, doing the +house work. She had the privilege of raising things for herself. She +made a garden, and raised vegetables and such like. + +"My brother who had run off during slavery time and who later became a +preacher in the North invited us to live in the city with him. + + +Vocational Experiences + +"I wasn't fourteen years old when I was tending to flowers for the Cairo +and Fulton Railroad. That was a railroad which later became Missouri +Pacific. They beautified everything. There wasn't any bridge. They had a +boat to take you into the town of Argenta then, and when the trains came +through, the same boat would carry the cars across. An engine would be +on the other side to finish the journey with them. + +"There is one engineer living now who was active in that time, Charlie +Seymour, retired, of Little Rock. He used to run the first train over +the Baring Cross Bridge, and then he ran the first engine over the new +bridge here. He had already been retired when they finished the new +bridge, but they had him pull the first train over the new bridge +because he had pulled the first one over the old bridge. They wanted to +give him that honor. + +"My manager in that time was Superintendent A.E. Buchanan. + +"From this work, I was advanced to the office and stayed there twenty +years. I served under Commissioner Thomas Essex and later under +Commissioner J.A. Dean. This service included twenty years in various +departments. + +"After that I billed freight for the Missouri Pacific at the Baring +Cross Storerooms under Mr. H.S. Turner for eight months or more. Then I +was transferred, because the location was not good for my health, to De +Soto, Missouri, forty-five miles this side of St. Louis. Sedentary work +had proved bad for me and I needed more active work. I waited on the +master mechanic there. After that I came back to Little Rock and worked +for the Pacific Express Company under Mr. G.F. Johnson, superintendent. +After that, I worked for the Quapaw Club[HW?] during its heyday when +Johnie Boyle, Hollenberg, Acie Bragg, Will Mitchell, Mr. Cottman, +Captain Shaw, and oodles of others were members. Mr. Moorehead White was +secretary. After that I went to doing my own work. + +"Now I am past my prime and I do the best I can with what little help I +get from the government. I get eight dollars a month and commodities. +Mr. Roosevelt has got guts. Mighty few men would attempt to do what he +has done. He is the greatest humanitarian president the country has ever +had. + +"But I've got a pile of recommendations. I've got recommendations from + + Thomas Essex, Land Commissioner, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, + and Southern Railway + + W.S. Thomas, Geologist, St. Louis, Iron Mountain, Southern + + J.H. Harvey, General Foreman of Bridges and Building + + G.A.A. Deane, Land Commissioner succeeding Essex, St. Louis, + Iron Mountain, and Southern + + S.W. Moore, General Secretary, Railway Y.M.C.A. + + Arthur B. Washburn, Superintendent, Arkansas Deaf Mute Institute + + A.C. St. Clair, Manager of the College of Physicians and Surgeons + + (Note comment) [TR: No additional comment found.] + +You can read these for yourself, and you see what they say. They can't +get me work now, but it's great to know you did good work and be able to +prove it. + +"The same commodities they give now were given in 1870. They had what +they called the Freedman's Bureau. They used to have what they called +the LICK SKILLET on Spring Street from Fifth to Seventh. Leastwise, the +colored people called it that. Bush and a lots of other big niggers used +to go there and get free lodgings until they were able to get along +alone without help. The niggers they call BIG NIGGERS now stayed in +wagon yards when they first come here. + + +Former Morals + +"There was a time when a low-down person, colored or white, couldn't +stay in the community. They would give him a ticket and send him to +Memphis or somewhere else. + +"Reuben White built the First Baptist Church. In those days, people were +Christian. White baptized one hundred fifty people twice a month. You +didn't have to put a lock on your door then. + + +Bachelor + +"I haven't been married; marriage holds a man back. A woman won't do as +she is told. + + +Successful Negroes in Little Rock + +"They had three Negro aldermen in this city: one of them was Green +Thompson; but the Negroes butchered him. He was murdered as he came in +from a festival. M.W. Gibbs, Land Office Man for the Government, was the +only nigger here who wasn't bothered by no one--by no colored person. +Dr. Smith was the leading colored dentist once, and the leading dentist +of the city in his day. Almost all the white people went to him. Colored +people had the barber shops. McNair had a barber shop on Main between +Second and Third. His boy killed him--no good reason. His boy went to +school with us; he was always stubborn and mean. + +"Henry Powell was jailer here once. Sam Wilkins, a man that weighed +about three hundred pounds, was the turnkey at the penitentiary. He +lived in one of the finest houses in the town at that time. Nigger bands +had all the music then. I have seen white organizations like the Odd +Fellows and Masons follow Negro bands. Nigger orchestras played here +all the big to-dos among white people. White people used to get nigger +dancers to come here to dance and show them so that they could learn the +late steps. + +"Colored caterers had the big jobs. Henry Miller was one of them. He's +going pretty strong still. You get some smart niggers 'round the Marion +Hotel right now. We used to have some smart cooks. But they did too much +peddling out of the back door. Dishonesty put them back. White people +have taken all that work now. The nigger ruined himself in this town. +They are paying white men now for what they know. They used to pay +niggers for what they knowed. + + +Opinions + +"If the government would give you a job today, niggers would be up to +take you out of it tomorrow. Niggers are dirty, and these 'round here +are ignorant. + +"The parents don't teach the children, and the children can't amount +too anything. If children are not taught to work, they will never have +nothing. A bunch of these young people don't mean to work. They just lay +'round waiting for the old people to die so they can get what little the +old folks accumulated and run through it. But a man never keeps what he +himself doesn't earn. He can't. + +"The children are raised now without manners. When I have to go past +Capitol Hill School, I have to get off the sidewalk. Ain't nothin' but +these graduates teachin' now, young graduates that don't know nothin' +but runnin' about. When I come along, the carpetbaggers were teaching +and they knew their business. Mrs. Stephens went to Fisk and finished +there. Mrs. Spight graduated from Union High School. We had all white +teachers at first. Miss Sarah Henley used to teach with old ex-slaves +where the Bethel A.M.E. Church is now. There wasn't no church there +then--just a little shanty. I was just five years old. My mother used +to take me there and leave me, but she taught me herself at home. She +taught me just like I see you teach your kids. + +"Boys don't do nothing but play now. They had to hustle then. They can't +do nothing now. They have this departmental system now. They didn't have +it then. The different temperaments ruin children. They used to review, +now they don't. They change text-books so fast the old ones can't be +sold." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Warren Taylor holds recommendations from a number of prominent people +referring to his excellent character, high morals, unusual intelligence, +wide information, industry, thrift, honesty, and trustworthiness. Some +of the names occur in the interview. The letters and documents proving +his long service and good record were brought out during the interview +and given to me to read. + +He has an unusual memory and penetrating insight into conditions. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sneed Teague + Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 68 +Occupation: Works on railroad + + +"My owners was Miss Betsy and Master Teague. Miss Betsy had a sister +lived with them. Her name was Miss Polly. They was French folks from the +old country. + +"My ma had belong to the Cox before the Teagues owned her. The Teagues +had three families of servants. + +"I remember them--yes mam--they was very saving people. They made +everything that they used. The shettle, the carding machine, the +spinning wheel and all, they made em. They had a carding machine +different to anybodys in the country. It worked by a foot treadle. +Another thing wasn't like nobody elses in the whole country was the bed. +It had four tall post. The head board a little higher than the one at +the foot but instead of using slats across from the railings it was +mortised together and hemp ropes wove bout a inch apart. It was strong +and didn't seem to give (stretch) much. + +"They raised sheep and they wove and spun wool altogether. They didn't +fool with cotton. Never did, not even down to my time. That carding +machine I'm telling bout turned out rolls of wool. It was right pretty. +They made all kinds of wool things and sold them. The old man had three +or four boys. Mr. Jim Teague run a wood and blacksmith shop. He sold +plows, wagons, hoes. They made spoons, knives, and forks out of sheets +of some kind of metal. Everything they used they made it and they sold +mighty near every thing folks wanted. The servants stayed on after the +war. My ma stayed till she died. My family had a little dispute when I +was twelve years old and I left. Ma died and I never went back. I +come to Forrest City and got work. I been farmin' and working on the +railroad. I have done track work. I got 10 acres land and a house. I +don't need on the relief. If I need it I would want it. The reason I +ain't got a garden and cow is I work out and not there to see after it. + +"Some times I vote. You make enemies cause they all want you to vote +for them and I can't do that. I don't care nothin' bout votin'. I don't +enquire no more bout politics. + +"The fellow what raises things to sell is better off with prices high +but if he is working for money, times is hard for him. Cause the money +is hard to get and hard to keep now. The young folks morals ain't like +young folks used to have. Seemed like young folks too smart to be +trained in morals like they was when I was comin' up." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Teel + Holly Grove, Ark. +Age: 74 + + +"Our Masters was Wade and Curls. Miss Fannie was Master Wade's wife. +They was kin somehow. I heard Ma say they wouldn't let their boys work. +We girls growd up together. They called Ma 'Cousin'. + +"Ma say she come from Marshal County Tennessee to Holly Springs +Mississippi. She never did see her pa. My papa's papa was _a white +man_. My pa was Lewis Brittman. He was a carriage driver. He made and +mended shoes. My Ma was a fine cook. She had nine children but jes three +living now. One of the girls--Miss Fannie's girls--married bout when +I did. We jes growd up lack that. I left the girls at Mt. Pleasant, +Mississippi. I stayed on their place a while. I wish I had money to go +back to my old home and see all 'em livin'. I never heard 'em say if +they give 'em somepin. Pa lernt us to do all kinds of work. He knowd how +to do nearly everything cause he was brought up by white folks. Measles +broke out, then small pox and the white folks put us in a room all +together at the white house so we could be seen after. We lay on the +same beds. My brother would whistle. I was real little but I member it +well as yesterday. Ma say stop whistlin' in that bed and Miss Fannie say +let him whistle I want to hear him cause I know he better. They say it +bad luck to sing in bed or look in the lookin'-glass (mirror) if you in +the bed. We all got over it. + +"Pa made us go clean. He made me comb and wrop my hair every night. I +had prutty hair then. I had tetter and it all come out. I has to wear +this old wig now. When I was young my eye-sight got bad, they said +measles settled in em and to help em Ma had these holes put in em (in +her ears). I been wearin' earbobs purt nigh all my life. + +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They never come nigh our house no time. +Pa died and Ma married a old man. They stayed in the same place a while. +When Pa died he had cattle and stock that why I don't know if he got +somepin at Freedom. He had plenty. + +"We lived at Holly Springs (Miss.) when they started the first colored +schools. There was three lady teachers. I think a man. One of the white +teachers boarded at my Ma's. On Saturday the other two eat there. I +recollect Ma cooking and fixing a big dinner Saturday. No white folks +let em stay with em or speak to em. They was sent from up north to teach +the darky chaps. I was one went to school. They wasn't nice like my +white folks then neither. They paid high board and white folks sent em +to Ma so she get the money. I was 14 years old when I married. I lived +wid my husband more an 50 years. We got long what I'ze tellin' you. This +young set ain't got no raisin' reason they cain't stand one nother. I +don't let em come in my yard. I cain't raise no children, I'm too old +and they ain't got no manners and the big ones got no sense. Jes wild. +They way they do. They live together a while and quit. Both them soon +livin' wid somebody else. That what churches fer, to marry in. Heap of +em ain't doin' it. No children don't come here tearin' up what I work +and have. I don't let em come in that gate, I have to work so hard in my +old days. I picked cotton. I can, by pickin' hard, make a dollar a day. +I cooked ten years fore I stopped, I cain't hold up at it. I washed and +ironed till the washing machines ruined that work fer all of us black +folks. Silk finery and washin' machines ruint the black folks. + +"Ma named Elsie Langston and Lewis Langston. They took that name somehow +after the old war (Civil War), I recken it was her old master's name. + +"After I was married and had children I was hard up. I went to a widow +woman had a farm but no men folks. She say, 'If you live here and leave +your little children in my yard and take my big boys and learn em to +work, I will cook. On Saturday you wash and iron.' She took me in that +way when my color wouldn't help me. I stayed there--between Memphis and +Holly Springs. + +"I live hard the way I live. I pick cotton when I can't go hardly. They +did give me a little commodity but I lose half day work if I go up there +and wait round. Don't know what they give me. I don't get a cent of the +penshun." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Wade Thermon, + R.F.D. (PWA Reservation), Des Arc, Arkansas +Age: 67 + + +"I was born in Boswell, Oklahoma. My mother and father was both slaves +some wha in the eastern states. Soon as freedom was declared they kept +going till I was born. They finally come back and farmed round Pine +Bluff. My folks last time I heard from them was at Garland City. There's +wha my mother died. I had three brothers and one sister, but one brother +died long time ago. Oklahoma was pore farmin'. The family could do +pretty good farmin' in Arkansas. I come here from Pine Bluff. I got a +wife, two girls and a little grandchild. When I first come to dis county +I done public work--piece work. I handled cotton and cross ties. I used +to help load and unload the boats and I worked helpin' build railroads. +Then I had to farm about a little fur a living. I worked on Victor +Gates place six years. Then I worked on the widow Thomas place till the +Government bought it. Then the last eighteen months I got work wid the +PWA on the rezer/va/tion. They turned me off now and I ain't got no +place to work. + +"I voted the Republican ticket the last time. I don't know nothing 'bout +stricted sufage. I voted in Oklahoma some and here some. No I sho don't +think the women needs to vote. They won't let us vote in the Primary. No +I wouldn't know who would suit in dem high offices. I reckon it is all +right. We is in you might say a foreign country. What I blames 'em fur +is not puttin' us in a country all to our selves and den let us run it +all to our selves. It is gettin' us all mixed up here every year worse +and worse. + +"I don't know nuthin' 'bout the Civil War. That was before I was born. I +heard my folks talk some 'bout it, been so long I forgot what they did +say. My folks owned a place in Oklahoma, at least I recken they did. I +never did own no home nor no land. Well, missus, cause I never could get +but berry little ahead ever and it takes all I makes to live on and I +ain't got nuthin' to go on now. + +"Times is changin' so much I don't know whut goin' to happen to the next +generation. Prices is mighty high now the reason you have to spend every +cent you makes fore you get paid off. Dats the reason I don't like the +PWA work I done. It cuts you off without a thing to go on. I likes farm +work whole heap the best." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Mrs. Dicey Thomas + 2500 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 82 + + +"I was born in Barbour County, Alabama. When I was born, the white folks +kept the children's age, not that of their parents. When the Yankees +came through our white folks' plantation, the white folks was hiding +away things. + + +Father + +"My father was named Ben See. See was my maiden name. Thomas comes from +my marriage. + + +Yankees + +"It was about twelve o'clock when the Yankees came through, because we +had just gone to bring the bowls. They used to serve us out of these +gourds and wooden spoons. Me and another little girl had gone to get +some bowls and spoons and when we got back the Yankees were swarming +over the place. They said, 'You are free. Go where you please.' + +"My mother had a little baby. The old women would tend to this baby and +we would sit and rock the cradle till mother would come. I know I wasn't +very old, because I didn't do anything but sit and rock the baby. I had +just gotten big enough to carry the bowls. + +"When the Yankees came through they stole Ben See's horse and brought +him out here in Arkansas. In those days, they used to brand horses. + +Some woman out here in Arkansas recognized the horse by his brand and +wrote to him about it. He came out and got the horse. We had gone by +that time. + + +Visiting the Graves + +"Ben See used to take the little darkies to the cemetery and show them +where their master and missis was laying. He never would sell none of +his father's slaves. + + +The Slave Block + +"He would buy other slaves and sell them though. He used to buy little +kids that couldn't walk. Maybe some big white man would come that would +want to buy a nigger. He used to have servants in the yard and he would +have the slaves he'd bought saved up. One of the yard servants would +catch a little nigger with his head all knotty and filled with twigs. He +would swinge the hair and the little nigger would yell, but he wouldn't +be hurt. + +"He had a block built up high just like a meat block out in the yard. +He would have the yard man bring the little niggers out and put them on +this block. I don't know nothing about their parents, who they were nor +where they were. All I know he would have this child there what he'd +done bought. + +"If there would be about five or six come in, here's this nigger sitting +up here. Here's a lot of folks waitin' to buy him. One would say, 'I bid +so much.' Another would say, 'I bid so much.' That would go on till the +biddin' got as high as it would go. Then the little nigger would go to +the highest bidder if the bid suited master. + +"My mother and father didn't know their age. The white folks kept the +ages, and that was something they didn't allow the slaves to handle. I +must have been four or five years old when my mother was in the field, +because I wasn't allowed to take the baby out of the cradle but just to +sit and rock it. + + +Arkansas + +"When I come to Arkansas, stages was running from Little Rock down +toward Pine Bluff. Jesse James robbed the Pine Bluff train. That about +the first train came in. They cut down the trees across the train track. +They had a wooden gun and they went in there and robbed that train with +it. They sent him to the pen and he learned a trade making cigars. + +"The Union Station was just like that hillside. It was just one street +in the town. I don't know what year nor nothing about it because when I +came here it was just like somebody didn't have any sense. + + +Plantation + +"The slave quarter was a row of houses. The plantation was high land. +The houses were little log houses with one room. They had fire arches. +They would hang pots over the fire. They would have spiders that you +call ovens. You would put coals on top of the spider and you would put +them under it and you could smell that stuff cooking! The door was in +the top of the spider and the coals would be on top of the door. + +"You couldn't cook nothin' then without somebody knowin' it. Couldn't +cook and eat in the back while folk sit in the front without them +knowin' it. They used to steal from the old master and cook it and they +would be burning rags or something to keep the white folks from smelling +it. + +The riding boss would come round about nine o'clock to see if you had +gone to bed or not. If they could steal a chicken or pig and kill and +cut it up, this one would take a piece and that one would take a piece +and they would burn the cotton to keep down the scent. The rider would +come round in June and July too when they thought the people would be +hunting the watermelons. + +"When the soldiers came, the niggers run and hid under the beds and the +soldiers came and poked their bayonets under the bed and shouted, 'Come +on out from under there. You're free!' + + +Destructiveness of Soldiers + +"The soldiers would tear down the beehives and break up the smoke +houses. They wasn't tryin' to git nothin' to eat. They was just +destroying things for devilment. They pulled all the stoppers out of the +molasses. They cut the smoked meat down and let it fall in the molasses. + + +Rations + +"Every Saturday, they would give my father and his wife half a gallon of +molasses, so much side meat. And then they would give half a bushel of +meal I reckon. Whatever they would give they would give 'em right out of +the smoke house. Sweet potatoes they would give. Sugar and coffee they'd +make. There wasn't nothing 'bout buying no sugar then. + + +How the Day Went + +"The riding boss would come round before the day broke and wake you up. +You had to be in the field before sun-up--that is the man would. The +woman who had a little child had a little more play than the man, +because she had to care for the child before she left. She had to carry +the child over to the old lady that took care of the babies. The cook +that cooked up to the big house, she cooked bread and milk and sent it +to the larger children for their dinner. They didn't feed the little +children because their mothers had to nurse them. The mother went to the +field as soon as she cared for her child. She would come back and nurse +the child around about twice. She would come once in the morning about +ten o'clock and once again at twelve o'clock before she ate her own +lunch. She and her husband ate their dinner in the field. She would come +back again about three p.m. Then you wouldn't see her any more till dark +that night. Long as you could see you had to stay in the field. They +didn't come home till sundown. + +"Then the mother would go and get the children and bring them home. She +would cook for supper and feed them. She'd have to go somewheres and get +them. Maybe the children would be asleep before she would get all that +done. Then she would have to wake them up and feed them. + +"I remember one time my sister and me were laying near the fire asleep +and my sister kicked the pot over and burned me from my knee to my foot. +My old master didn't have no wife, so he had me carried up to the house +and treated by the old woman who kept the house for him. She was a +slave. When I got so I could hobble around a little, he would sometimes +let the little niggers come up to the house and I would get these big +peanuts and break them up and throw them out to them so he could have +fun seeing them scramble for them. + +"After the children had been fed, the mother would cook the next day's +breakfast and she would cook the next day's dinner and put it in the +pail so that everything would be ready when the riding boss would come +around. Cause when he came, it meant move. + + +The Old Lady at the Big House + +"The old lady at the big house took care of the gourds and bowls. The +parents didn't have nothing to do with them. She fed the children that +was weaned. Mother and daddy didn't have nothing to do with that at +noontime because they was in the field. White folks fed them corn bread +and milk. Up to the big house besides that, she didn't have anything to +do except take care of things around the house, keep the white man's +things clean and do his cooking. + +"She never carried the gourds and bowls herself. She just fixed them. +The yard man brought them down to the quarters and we would take them +back. She wash them and scrape them till they was white and thin as +paper. They was always clean. + +"She wasn't related to me. I couldn't call her name to save my life. + + +Relatives + +"We come from Barbour, Alabama with a trainful of people that were +immigrating. We just chartered a train and came, we had so many. Of all +the old people that came here in that time, my aunt is the oldest. You +will find her out on Twenty-fourth Street and Pulaski. She has been my +aunt ever since I can remember. She must be nearly a hundred or more. + + +Patrollers + +"When we had the patrollers it was just like the white man would have +another white man working for him. It was to see that the Negroes went +to bed on time and didn't steal nothing. But my master and missis never +allowed anybody to whip their slaves. + + +What the Slaves Expected and Got + +"I don't know what the slaves was expecting to get, but my parents when +they left Ben See's place had nothing but the few clothes in the house. +They didn't give em nothing. They had some clothes all right, enough to +cover themselves. I don't know what kind or how much because I wasn't +old enough to know all into such details. + +"When we left Ben See's plantation and went down into Alabama, we left +there on a wagon. Daddy was driving four big steers hitched to it. There +was just three of us children. The little boy my mother was schooling +then, it died. It died when we went down betwixt New Falls and +Montgomery, Alabama. I don't know when we left Alabama nor how long we +stayed there. After he was told he was free, I know he didn't make nare +another crop on Ben See's plantation. + + +1865-1938 + +"My father, when he left from where we was freed, he went to hauling +logs for a sawmill, and then he farmed. He done that for years, driving +these old oxen. He mostly did this logging and my mother did the +farming. + +"I can't tell you what kind of time it was right after the Civil War +because I was too young to notice. All our lives I had plenty to eat. +When we first came to Arkansas we stopped at old Mary Jones down in +Riceville, and then we went down on the Gates Farm at Biscoe. Then we +went from there to Atkins up in Pope County. No, he went up in the sand +hills and bought him a home and then he went up into Atkins. Of course, +I was a married woman by that time. + +"I married the second year I came to Arkansas, about sixty-two or +sixty-three years ago. I have lived in Little Rock about thirty-two or +thirty-three years. When I first came here, I came right up here on +Seventeenth and State streets. + + +Voting + +"I never voted. For twenty years the old white lady I stayed with looked +after my taxes. None of my friends ever voted. I ain't got nothing but +some children and they ain't never been crazy enough to go to anybody's +polls. + + +Family + +"I have two brothers dead and a sister. My mother is dead. I am not sure +whether or not my father is dead. The Ku Klux scared him out of Atkins, +and he went up in Tulsa, Oklahoma, and I ain't never heard of him since. +I don't know whether he is dead or not. + +"I have raised five children of my own. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"These Ku Klux, they had not long ago used to go and whip folks that +wasn't doing right. That was mongst the white people and the colored. +Comer that used to have this furniture store on Main Street, he used to +be the head of it, they say. + +"I used to work for an old white man who told me how they done. They +would walk along the street with their disguises hidden under their +arms. Then when they got to the meeting place, they would put their +disguises on and go out and do their devilment. Then when they were +through, they would take the disguise off again and go on back about +their business, Old man Wolf, he used to tell me about it. + + +Occupation + +"I nursed for every prominent doctor in Little Rock,--Dr. Judd, Dr. +Flynch, Dr. Flynn, Dr. Fly, Dr. Morgan Smith, and a number of others." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mandy Thomas, 13th and Pearl Streets, +Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 +Occupation: Laundress + + +"I know my sister told me I was five when my mama was freed. I was born +down below El Dorado. Andrew Jaggers was my mother's old master. + +"I just remember the soldiers goin' past. I think they was Yankees. They +never stopped as I knows of. + +"I've seed my young missis whip my mother. + +"My papa belonged to the Agees. After I got up good sized, they told me +'bout my papa. He went with his white folks to Texas and we never did +see him after we got up good size. So mama took a drove of us and went +to work for some more white folks. + +"I was good and grown when I married and I been workin' hard ever since. +I was out pickin' huckleberries tryin' to get some money to buy baby +clothes when my first girl was born. Yes ma'am." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas + 519 W. Ninth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 70 +Occupation: Making cotton and corn + + +"I was born in Louisiana--in Vidalia. My mother's name was Emma Grant. +My father's name was George Grant. My mother's name before she married +was Emma Woodbridge. I don't know the names of my grand folks. I heard +my mother say that my grandmother was named Matilda Woodbridge. I never +got to see her. That is what I heard my mother say. + +"I don't know the names of my mother's master, and I don't know the +names of my father's white folks. + +"My father was George Grant. He served in the War. I think they said +that he was with them when Vicksburg surrendered. My father has said +that he was really named George LaGrande. But after he enlisted in the +War, he went by the name of George Grant. There was one of the officers +by that name, and he took it too. He was shot in the hip during the War. +When he died, he still was having trouble with that wound. He was on the +Union side. He was fighting for our freedom. He wasn't no Reb. He'd tell +us a many a day, 'I am part of the cause that you are free.' I don't +know where he was when he enlisted. He said he was sold out from +Louisville--him and his brother. + +"I never did hear him say that he was whipped or treated bad when he was +a slave. I've heard him tell how he had to stand up on dead people to +shoot when he was in the War. + +"My brother started twice to get my father's pension, but he never was +able to do anything about it. They made away with the papers somehow +and we never did get nothin'. My father married a second time before he +died. When he died, my stepmother tried to get the pension. They writ +back and asked her if he had any kin, and she answered them and said no. +She hid the papers and wouldn't let us have 'em--took and locked 'em +up somewheres where we couldn't find 'em. She was so mean that if she +couldn't get no pension, she didn't want nobody else to get none. + +"I don't know just when I was born, nor how old I am. When I come to +remember anything, I was free. But I don't know how old I am, nor when +it was. + +"I heard my father speak of pateroles. Just said that they'd ketch you. +He used to scare us by telling us that the pateroles would ketch us. We +thought that was something dreadful. + +"I never heard nothin' about jayhawkers. I heard something about Ku Klux +but I don't know what it was. + +"My father married my mother just after the War. + +"I been married twice. My first husband got killed on the levee. And the +second is down in the country somewheres. We are separated. + +"I don't get no help from the Welfare, wish I did. I ain't had no money +to get to the doctor with my eyes." + + +Interviewer's Comments + +The old lady sat with her eyes nearly closed while I questioned her and +listened to her story. Those eyes ran and looked as though they needed +attention badly. The interview was conducted entirely on the porch as +that of Annie Parks. Traffic interrupted; friends interrupted; and a +daughter interrupted from time to time. But this daughter, while a +little suspicious, was in no degree hostile. The two of them referred +me to J.T. Tims, who, they said, knew a lot about slavery. His story is +given along with this one. + +I got the impression that the old lady was born before the War, but +I accepted her statement and put her down as born since the War and +guessed her age as near seventy. She was evidently quite reserved about +some details. Her father's marriage to her mother after the War would +not necessarily mean that he was not married to her slave fashion before +the War. She didn't care so much about giving any story, but she was +polite and obliging after she had satisfied herself as to my identity +and work. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Omelia Thomas + 1014 W. Fifth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 63 + + +"I was born in Marianna, Lee County, in Arkansas. I wasn't born right in +the town but out a piece from the town in the old Bouden place, in 1875. +My father kept a record of all births and deaths in his Bible. He never +forgot whenever a new baby would come to get down his glasses and +pen and ink and Bible. My daddy learned to read and write after the +emancipation. + +"My father's name was Frank Johnson and my mother's name was Henrietta +Johnson. I don't know the given names of my father's and mother's +parents. I do know my mother's mother's name. Lucinda, and my father's +mother was named Stephens. I don't know their given names. My mother's +master was a Trotter. + +"My father was a free man. He hired his own time. He told me that +his father hired his own time and he would go off and work. He made +washpots. He would go off and work and bring back money and things. His +mother was free too. When war was declared, he volunteered to go. He +was with the Yankees. My father worked just like my grandfather did. +Whenever he had a job to do. He never had a lick from anybody, carried +his gun strapped down on his side all the time and never went without +it. + +"After the War, he worked on a steamboat. They used to kick the +roustabouts about and run them around but they never laid the weight of +their hands on him. + +"They wouldn't allow him to go to school in slavery time. After the War, +he got a Blue Back Speller and would make a bowl of fire and at night +he would study--sometimes until daybreak. Then he found an old man that +would help him and he studied under him for a while. He never went to +any regular school, but he went to night school a little. Most of what +he got, he got himself. + +"He was born in Louisville, Kentucky. I don't know how he happened to +meet my mother. During the time after the War, he went to running on the +boat from New Orleans to Friar Point, Mississippi. Then he would come +over to Helena. In going 'round, he met my mother near Marianna and +married her. + +"Mother never had much to say, and the other girls would have a big time +talking. He noticed that she was sewing with ravelings and he said, +'Lady, next time I come I'll bring you a spool of thread if you don't +mind.' He brought the thread and she didn't mind, and from then on, they +went to courting. Finally they married. They married very shortly after +the War. + +"My mother was a motherless girl. My daddy said he looked at her +struggling along. All the other girls were trying to have a good time. +But she would be settin' down trying to make a quilt or something else +useful, and he said to a friend of his, 'That woman would make a good +wife; I am going to marry her.' And he did. + +"She used to spin her fine and coarse sewing thread and yarn to make +socks and stockings with. Her stockings and socks for the babies and +papa would always be yarn. She could do pretty work. She had a large +family. She had seventeen children and she kept them all in things she +made herself. She raised ten of them. She would make the thread and yarn +and the socks and stockings for all of these. I have known the time when +she used to make coats and pants for my father and brothers. She would +make them by hand because they didn't have any machines then. Of course, +she made all the underwear. She put up preserves and jellies for us to +eat in the winter. She used to put up kraut and stuff by the barrel. I +have seen some happy days when I was with my daddy and mother. He raised +pigs and hogs and chickens and cows. He raised all kinds of peas and +vegetables. He raised those things chiefly for the home, and he made +cotton for money. He would save about eight or ten bales and put them +under his shed for stockings and clothes and everything. He would have +another cotton selling in March. + +"When my father was in the army, he would sometimes be out in the +weather, he told us, and he and the other soldiers would wrap up in +their blankets and sleep right in the snow itself. + +"I farmed all my life until 1897. I farmed all my life till then. I was +at home. I married in 1895. My first husband and I made three crops and +then he stopped and went to public work. After that I never farmed any +more but went to cooking and doing laundry work. I came from Clarendon +here in 1901. + +"I never had any experiences with the Yankees. My mother used to tell +how they took all the old master's stuff--mules and sugar--and then +throwed it out and rode their horses through it when they didn't want it +for theirselves. + +"I married a second time. I have been single now for the last three +years. My husband died on the twentieth of August three years ago. I +ain't got no business here at all. I ought to be at my home living well. +But I work for what I get and I'm proud of it. + +"A working woman has many things to contend with. That girl downstairs +keeps a gang of men coming and going, and sometimes some of them +sometimes try to come up here. Sunday night when I come home from +church, one was standing in the dark by my door waiting for me. I had +this stick in my hand and I ordered him down. He saw I meant business; +so he went on down. Some of them are determined. + +"There's no hope for tomorrow so far as these young folks are concerned. +And the majority of the old people are almost worse than the young ones. +Used to be that all the old people were mothers and fathers but now they +are all going together. Everything is in a critical condition. There is +not much truth in the land. All human affection is gone. There is mighty +little respect. The way some people carry on is pitiful." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The men who bother Omelia Thomas probably take her for a young woman. +She hasn't a gray hair in her head, and her skin is smooth and must be +well kept. She looks at least twenty-five years younger than she is, and +but for the accident of her presence at another interview, I would never +have dreamed that she had a story to tell. + +I went to see her in the quarters where she lives--over the garage in +the back yard of the white people she works for. When I got halfway +up the stairs, she shouted, "You can't come up here." I paused in +perplexity for a moment, and she stuck her head out the door and looked. +Then she said, "Oh, I beg pardon; I thought you were one of those men +that visit downstairs." I had noticed the young lady below as I entered. +She is evidently a hot number, and as troublesome as a sore thumb to the +good old lady above her. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Tanner Thomas + 1213 Louisiana, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born down here at Rob Roy on the river on the Emory place. My +mother's name was Dinah Thomas and my father's name was Greene Thomas. +He taken sick and died in the War on the North side. That's what my +mother told me. I was born under Mars Jordan Emory's administration. + +"I 'member somebody brought me here to Pine Bluff to Lawyer Bell's +house. I stayed two or three months, then Mars Jordan sent for me and +carried me back out to Rob Roy and I stayed with my mother. She had done +married again but I stayed with her all the time till I got grown and I +married. + +"I come here in 1892 and I been here ever since--forty-six years. Oh, +whole lots of these white folks know me. + +"I worked at the Standard Lumber Company and Bluff City Lumber Company +and Dilley's Foundry. Then I went to the oil mill. I was the order man. +I was the best lumber grader on the place. + +"Course I knows lots of white folks and they knows me too, I done a heap +of work 'round here in different places in forty-six years. + +"I went to school a little but I didn't learn nothin'. + +"My mother said they come and pressed my daddy in the War. 'Course I +don't know nothin' 'bout that but my mother told me. + +"Now, what is this you're gettin' up? Well, I was born in slavery times. +You know I was when my daddy was in the War. + +"Oh Lord yes, I voted. I voted Republican. I didn't know whether it +would do any good or not but I just voted 'cause I had a chance. My +name's been in Washington for years 'cause I voted, you know. + +"My way is dark to the younger generation now. I don't have much dealin' +with them. They are more wiser. Education has done spread all over the +country. + +"God intended for every man in the world to have a living and to live +for each other but too many of 'em livin' for themselves. But everything +goin' to work out right after awhile. God's goin' to change this thing +up after awhile. You can't rush him. He can handle these people. After +he gets through, with this generation, I think he's goin' to make a +generation that will serve him." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Wester Thomas, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in Sumpter County (Mississippi?). My mother was sold to +Dr. and Miss Kate Hadley. My mother's name was Lettie Williams and she +married Wesley Thomas. My name is Wester Thomas. I'm seventy-nine years +old. Mistress Kate raised me. Dr. Hadley had more than a hundred slaves. + +"I can tell you about freedom. Two men in uniforms come and told master. +He had the farm bell rung. They told them the Civil War was over. They +was free. The niggers went back to their quarters. Some moved later. My +folks never left. Dr. Hadley died. Mistress Kate took all that wanted to +go to Louisiana then. We cleared up land down there. Later I farmed." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Annie Thompson, Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: 55? + + +"I was raised by my father's sister and my grandmother. Later on I come +to my daddy here and my stepmother had other children. I soon married. +I've had a hard time. + +"My grandparents was Harriett Edwards and William Snow. Grandmother said +they were nice to her. She was Master Edwards' house girl. She cooked +and was a spinner. When I was a girl she had her spinning-wheel and +she taught me to spin and knit. She spun thread for caps, mittens, +stockings, socks, suspenders, and coats. We knit all those things when +I was a girl. Grandmother said the white folks never whooped her. +Grandmother was her old master's own girl and she nursed with one of his +white wife's children. She was real light. + +"My father's mother was a squaw. I don't know her name. She was sold +from grandpa and he went to Master Snow. He never seen her any more. +He took another wife and jumped over the broom on the Snow place. He +thought some of his owners was terrible. He had been whooped till he +couldn't wear clothes. He said they stuck so bad. + +"My own father whipped me once till my clothes stuck to my back. I +told you I had seen a pretty hard time in my own life. I was born in +Starkville, Mississippi. + +"Since I was a girl there has been many changes. I was married by Rev. +Bell December 14, 1902. My husband is living and still my husband. I can +see big changes taking place all the time. I was married at De Valls +Bluff." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This woman could give me some comparative views on the present +generation but she didn't. It is one of the Saturday gathering halls. +She depends on it somewhat for a living and didn't say a word either pro +or con for the present generation. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ellen Briggs Thompson + 3704 W. Twelfth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +Birth and Relatives + +"I was born in October 1844, in Nashville, Arkansas. I don't remember +the exact day. I have went through thick and thin. I was a small girl +when my mother died. I got the rheumatism so bad I can't hardly walk. It +hurts me now. My oldest brother, Henry Briggs, was five years older than +me, and my youngest brother, Isaac Briggs, was five years younger than +me. I was born October, but he was born at Christmas Eve just after +surrender. My oldest brother died last year. My youngest brother is +in Galveston, Texas. If he is living, he is there. My name was Briggs +before I married. I was just studying about my sister-in-law when you +come up. If I could get the money, I would go to see her. She was my +oldest brother's wife. Her name was Frances Briggs after she married. +She lives in Emmet, Arkansas, where he married her. I just had two +brothers, no sisters. + +"My husband's name was Henry Thompson. He has been dead about twelve or +thirteen years. I have had so much sickness I can't remember exactly. I +married him a long time ago. I got it put down in the Bible. I married +yonder in Emmet, Arkansas. I ain't got the Bible nor nothing. My brother +had it and he is dead. + +"My father's name was Daniel Briggs. He died in Hot Springs. We were +small children when he and my mother was separated. He was in one place +and we were in another. He tried to get us children when he died, but we +was little and couldn't get to him. My mother was dead then. + +"My mother's name was Susanna Briggs. Her father's name was Isaac Metz. +The children left him in South Carolina. The white folks sold them away +from him. My mother just had three children: me, and my two brothers. I +don't know how many my grandfather had. There were four sisters that I +know besides my mother and two boys: Aunt Melissa, and Aunt Jane, and +Aunt Annie, and Aunt Sarah, and Uncle Albert Mitchell, and Uncle Ben. My +grandmother's name was Betsy. I never got to see her but they told me +about her. + + +Good Masters + +"I have heard them say that their white folks didn't whip them. My +master was a good man. My young master, when it come to the surrender, +slipped back home and told them they was going to be free as ever he +was. His name was Joe Mitchell. I never seed my white folks whip anybody +in my life. They just never whipped anybody. They never whipped me. I +have seen the white folks next to us whip their Negroes and I asked +grandma about it. She said that those were their Negroes and she would +explain what they was being whipped for. They was on another farm. I +don't remember what they was being whipped for. + +"My young master told the slaves when he notified them they was free +that if they didn't want to stay with him, he would give them enough to +go on till they could make it, you know, to keep them from starving. He +was a good man. + +"The old man, Joe's father, was named Thomas Mitchell. He died before I +was born. I never seed him, just knowed his name. Joe's mother was named +Isabel Mitchell. I came to be named Briggs because her husband's name +was Briggs. He belonged to a Briggs. I don't know what his name was +else. They didn't belong to the same master. They used to let them +marry. They would fix great big tables. Sometimes they would marry in +the house; that was in the winter. Then sometimes they would marry +outdoors. Then they would set a long table for all their associates to +eat just like you would fix a table for your friends. Looked like they +would be so glad to see their boys and girls marry. They would have +regular preacher and marry just like they do now. + +"There wasn't no breeders on our place. But I have heard of people who +did keep a woman just for that purpose. They never whipped her nor +nothing. They just let her have children. As soon as she had one, they +would take it away from her so that she could have another one right +away. + + +Jayhawkers + +"When my young master was gone to the War and the jayhawkers would come +around, my young master's mother would take all the colored women and +children and lock them up and she would take a big heavy gun and go out +to meet them. The Jayhawkers were white people who would steal corn and +horses and even slaves if they could get them. But colored folks was +sharp. They would do things to break their horses' legs and they would +run and hide. My uncle was a young boy. He saw the Jayhawkers coming +once. And he ran and pressed himself under the crib. The space was so +small he nearly broke his ribs. His mistress had to get him out and take +him to the house. + +"My grandmother used to take me with her after dark when she'd go out +to pray. She wouldn't go anywhere without me. One time when she was out +praying, I touched her and said to her that I heard something in the +corn crib. She cut her prayer off right now and went and told it to her +old mistress, and to the young master, who was in the house just then +telling the Negroes they were all going to be free. The Jayhawkers spied +us and they got out and went on their way. My young master crawled out +and went back to the Confederate army. He had to crawl out because he +wanted to keep anybody from seeing him and capturing him. + + +Soldiers + +"I never seed but one or two soldiers. That was after the surrender. I +suppose they were Union soldiers. They had on their blue jackets. There +never was any fighting in Nashville, while I was living there. + +"About all that I knew about the War was that the men went off to fight. +None of the colored men went--just the white men. The colored men stayed +back and worked in the field. Isabel Mitchell and her boys were bosses. +What they said _goed_. + + +Slave Houses + +"The slaves lived in old log houses. Some of them were plank houses. +Some of the slaves chinked 'em up with dirt. They had these big wooden +windows in the houses. Sometimes they would be two, sometimes they would +be three windows--one to each room. There would be two or three or four +rooms to the house. That would be according to the family. My mother had +three girls besides her own children. She had a four-room house. Her +house was built right in the white folks' yard. My grandmother didn't +work in the field. She tended to the children. She worked in the big +house. My mother was boss of the whole thing. She would go and work in +the field but grandmother would see after the children. She wouldn't +let me go from her to the gate without her. I just had to follow her +everywhere she went. + +"Grandmother besides taking care of us used to make clothes. She cooked +for the white folks. But she sure had to see after us children. I seed +after myself. I was all the girl-child there and I just did what I +wanted to. + +"The country was kind of wild in those days. The deer used to come +loping down and we would be scared and run and hide. Some people would +set the dogs on them and some people would kill them no matter who they +belonged. + +You see, some people had them as pets. + + +Amusements + +"I never seed nothing in the way of amusements except people going to +church and going to parties and all such as that. They believed in going +to church. They would have parties at night. The white folks didn't care +what they had. They would help prepare for it. They would let 'em have +anything they wanted to have and let 'em go to church whenever they +wanted to go. + +And if they took a notion they would have a supper. When they would have +a party they would do just like they do now. They would have dancing. I +never seed any playing cards. When they danced, somebody would play the +fiddle for them. When they had a supper, they would usually sell the +things. Then the white folks would come and buy from them. There would +be nice looking things on the table. + + +Church + +"They had meetings at Center Point, and at Arkadelphia. And they would +let us go to them or anywhere else we wanted. We had to have passes, of +course. They had colored preachers. Sometimes the slaves would go to +the white people's church. They wouldn't go often, just every once in +awhile. White ladies would get after the colored to come and go with +them sometimes. Sometimes, too, when they would have a dinner or +something, they would take Aunt Sue or mother to cook for them. They +wouldn't let nobody meddle with them or bother them--none of the other +white folks. And they would let them fix a table for their own friends +that they would want to have along. + + +Personal Occupations + +"I used to work in the field or in the house or anything I could get to +do. I would even go out and saw these big rails when my husband would +have a job and couldn't get a chance to do it. It has been a good while +since I have been able to do any good work. My husband has been dead +fifteen years and I had to quit work long before he died. + + +Right after the War + +"Right after the War my folks worked in the field, washed, cooked, or +anything they could do. They left the old place and came down about +Washington, Arkansas. I don't know just how long they stayed in +Washington. From Washington, my mother went to Prescott and settled +there at a little place they called Sweet Home, just outside of +Prescott. That is where my daughter was born and that is where my mother +died. I came here about nine years ago. + + +Present Support + +I came here to stay with my daughter. But now she doesn't have any help +herself. She has three small children and she's their only support now. +She's not working either. She just come in from the Urban League looking +for a job. They say that they don't have a thing and that the people +don't want any women now. They just want these young girls because they +make them work cheaper. We have both applied for help from the Welfare +but neither of us has gotten anything yet." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Hattie Thompson, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I was born the second year after the surrender. I was born close to +Arlington, Tennessee. My parents was Mariah Thermon and Johnson Mayo. +They had eight children. They belong to different owners. I heard mama +say in slavery time she'd clean her house good Saturday and clean up her +children and start cooking dinner fore pa come. They looked forward to +pa coming. Now that was at our own house. + +"Mama was heired. She was the house woman and cook for her young +mistress, Miss Sallie Thermon. She married Mr. John Thermon. She was +Miss Sallie Royster till she married. I heard her say she raised Miss +Sallie's children with her own. She was a wet nurse. I know Miss Sallie +was good to her. I don't think she was sold but her mother was sold. +She would spin and weave and the larger children did too. They made +bed spreads in colors and solid white. They called the colored ones +coverlets. They was pretty. Mama helped quilt. She was a good hand at +that. They made awful close stitches and backstitched every now and then +to make it hold. They would wax the thread to keep it from rolling up +and tangling. + +"Thread was in balls. They rolled it from skeins to balls. They rolled +it from shuck broches to the balls. Put shucks around the spindle to +slip it off easy. I have seen big balls this big (2 ft. in diameter) +down on the floor and mama, knitting off of it right on. When the feet +wore out on socks and stockings, they would unravel them, save the good +thread, and reknit the foot or toe or heel. + +"When I was a child, patching and darning was stylish. Soon as the +washing was brung in the clothes had to be sorted out and every snag +place patched nice. Folks had better made clothes and had to take care +of em. Clothes don't last no time now. White folks had fine clothes but +they didn't have nigh as many as white folks do now. + +"Mama was a pretty good hand at doing mighty nigh what she took a +notion to do about the house. She never was no count in the field--jess +couldn't hold out it seem like. She worked in the field lots. Pa was +a shoemaker. He made all our shoes and had his tools, lasts, etc. He +learned his trade in slavery. He farmed. + +"It has been so long ago I tell you I don't recollect things straight. I +don't know how they found out about freedom but they left I think. They +got all they could take, their clothes and a little to eat. They +started share cropping. They was out from Holly Springs when I come to +knowledge. Mama was a nice hand at cooking and hand sewing. She said +Miss Sallie learnt her. She never could read. + +"I come to Arkansas fifty year ago this spring with one little girl--all +the little girl I ever had. I never had no boys. I come here to get +work. I always got work. It was a new country and it was being cleared +out. In the spring we could get wild polk greens to cook. You can't get +none now. + +"Times is sider'bly changed since then. Hogs run wild. Plenty game here +then. Something to eat was not hard to get then as it is now. We raise a +hog in a pen nearly every year but it takes plenty to feed it that way. + +"My husband have rheumatism and we get $12 and commodities. He works in +the field and I wash and iron when I can get some to do. That is scarce. +He works all he can." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Mamie Thompson + Brinkley, Ark. +Age: 68 + + +"I come here with my parents in 1887. Nothing much here in Brinkley then +but woods and three stores. My mother was a mix-breed. She was mixed +with Cherokee Indian and Negro. My father come from Virginia. He was +black--so black he shined. My mother was born in Cairo, Illinois. My +mother and father both died here in Brinkley. This town started from a +big saw mill." + +"Understand, all I knows was told to me by my parents. Grandma's master +was Master Redman. He kept Aunt Emma and my mother. They never was sold. +My mother was put on the block but her mistress come took her down. +Master Redman had her in the field working. The overseer was a white +man. He tried to take her down and carry on with her. She led him to the +house. He wanted her whooped cause she had whooped him sort of. He +was mad cause he couldn't overpower her. Master Redman got her in the +kitchen to whoop her with a cow hide; she told him she would kill him; +she got a stick. He let her out and they come to buy her--_a Negro +trader_. Old Mistress--his wife--went out and led her down from there +in the house and told Master Redman if he sold Mattie she would quit +him--she meant leave him. Mistress Redman kept her with her and made a +house girl out of her. She tended to the children and cleaned the house. +Aunt Emma milked and churned. + +"Grandma was a Molly Glaspy woman. She had straight wavy hair, small +eyes. She was a small woman. Grandpa was a tall big man. He was a full +blood Indian. + +"My mother called whiskey 'jagger'--I don't know why. + +"After Mr. Redman died, Miss Mary married Mr. Badgett. Me and George and +Sissy all growed up together. My mother was married twice too. She had +two of us by her first husband and eight children by her last husband. + +"I heard them say they lived in Crittenden County, Arkansas during the +Civil War. They lived in west Tennessee not far from Memphis when I was +a child. Mrs. Badgett lived in Memphis after she got old. Mary's mother +visited her long as she lived. I did too. She has been dead several +years. She give me a sugar bowl when I was twelve years old--I still got +it. I won't sell it. I'll give it to my girl. + +"I don't know about the Ku Klux. I never heard a great deal about them. + +"I don't vote--not interested. + +"Well, I sewed till the very day I was 65 years old. The foreman said I +was too old now, but sign up for the pension. I am crippled. I did. I +get commodities, but no money. + +"I washed, ironed, cooked. I worked at Mrs. Jim Gunn's and I cooked nine +years for Mrs. Dora Gregg. I work whenever I can get work to be done. I +like to sew but they cut me off." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mike Thompson, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born near Honey Grove, Texas. I remember my grandparents on both +sides--they were all Thompsons. They were cotton and corn farmers. I +don't know where they come from. I was so small and as soon as the War +was done a whole gang of us come from Texas to Dardanelle, Arkansas. + +"The Bushwhackers was so bad we was guarded to the line and they went +back. We come in wagons. Bushwhackers was robbers. I remember that. My +grandparents and parents all come in the gang. Clem Thompson, my owner, +died. He had a family. I don't know what become of none but Ed Thompson. +We was the same age and growed up together. I worked for him at +Dardanelle but I don't know how he come from Texas. He butchered and +peddled meat and had a shop too. I don't think Ed owned land over at +Dardanelle but my father owned eighty acres over there when he died. My +father was Cubit Thompson. His father was Plato Thompson. My mother was +Harriett Thompson. + +"The Thompsons was fairly good to their niggers, I recken. Ed was good +to me. He promised me I should never want but I don't know if he be dead +or not. I wish I could hear from him. + +"When I was about twenty-five years old I was coming in home from town +one night. I seen his house on fire. I kept going fast as I could run, +woke him up. He run out but his wife didn't. He said, 'My wife! my wife! +my wife!' I run in where he run out. She was standing back in a corner +the flames nearly all around her. I picked her up and run out and about +that time the whole house fell in. They never got through thanking me. +I come off over here and never hear a word from him. He always said I +saved their lives and hers mostly. + +"Times--young men can get work if they will go to the field and work. +If you can't work, times is hard two ways. If you are used to work, you +hard to get contentment and loss of the money too. Money don't buy much. +Awful sight of cotton and you don't get much out of it. Young folks is +got young notions. + +"I come to Widener in 1908. I made a good living. I own this house. Now +I got to quit working in bad weather. My rheumatism gets so bad. I'll be +eighty years old 23rd of September this year (1938)." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person Interviewed: Laura Thornton + 1215 W. Twenty-Fourth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 105? + + +"My native home is Alabama. I was born not far from Midway, Alabama, +about twelve miles from Clayton. Midway, Clayton, and Barber are all +nearby towns. We used to go to all of them. + +"My master was Tom Eford. When he died, I fell to Polly Eford. Polly +Eford was the old lady. I don't know where they is and they don't know +nothing about where I is. It's been so long. Because I done lef' Alabama +fifty years. I don't know whether any of them is living or not. It's +been so long. + +"Their baby boy was named Giles Eford. His mother was Miami Eford and my +father's name was Perry Eford. That is the name he went in. My mother +went in that name too. My father died the second year of the surrender. +My mother was a widow a long time. I was a grown-up woman and had +children when my father died. + +"I married during slavery time. I don't remember just how old I was +then. My old man knows my age, but I can't remember it. But he's +been dead this year makes thirteen years. I had one child before the +surrender. I was just married to the one man. I was married after the +surrender. I don't want to be married again. I never seed a man I would +give a thought to since he died. Lord knows how long we'd been married +before he died. + +"We came here and stayed four years and we bought a home down on Arch +Street Pike about ten miles from here. I lived there sixty years. I've +got the tax receipts for sixty years back. I ain't never counted the +ones I paid since he's been dead. + +"I was the mother of three children and none of them are living. All of +them dead but me. + +"They made like they was goin' to give old slave folks a pension. They +ain't gimme none yit. I'm just livin' on the mercy of the people. I +can't keep up the taxes now. I wish I could git a pension. It would help +keep me up till I died. They won't even as much as give me nothin' on +the relief. They say these grandchildren ought to keep me up. I have to +depend on them and they can't hardly keep up theirselves. + +"When the Civil War broke out, my baby was about seven years old. My +mother was here when the stars fell. She had one child then. + +"I remember a war before the Civil War. I heard the white folks talking +about it. They wouldn't tell colored folks nothing. They'd work them to +death and beat them to death. They'd sell them just like you sell hogs. +My mother was sold from me when I was little. Old lady Eford, she was +my mistress and mammy too. If she ever slapped me, I don't know nothin' +'bout it. + +"My daddy made his farm jus' like colored people do now. White man would +give him so much ground if he'd a mind to work it. He had a horse he +used. + +"We lived a heap better than the people live now. They fed you then. +You ate three times a day. When twelve o'clock come, there dinner was, +cooked and ready. Nothin' to do but eat it, and then set down and res' +with the other people. There was them that was good. + +"But them what was mean done the colored folks bad. + + +Early Days + +"I was little when my mother was sold from me. I was runnin' about +though in the yard. I couldn't do nothing. But I was a smart girl. The +first work I can remember doin' was goin' to the field ploughing. That +is the first thing I remember. I was little. I just could come up to the +plough. I cut logs when I was a little child like them children there +(children about ten years old playing in the street). I used to clean up +new ground--do anything. + +"My mother and father both worked in the field. My father was sold away +from me jus' like my mother was. Old lady Eford was my mother and father +too. That was in Clayton, Alabama. Old Tom Eford had three boys--one +named Tom, one named William, and there was the one named Giles what I +told you about. William was the oldest, Tom was the second, and Giles +was the youngest. + +"I never learnt to read and write. In slave time, they didn't let you +have no books. My brother though was a good reader. He could write as +well as any of them because he would be with the white children and they +would show him. That is the way my brother learnt. He would lay down all +day Sunday and study. The good blessed Lord helped him. + + +Marriage + +"The man I married was on the plantation. They married in slave time +just like they do these days. When I married, the justice of peace +married me. That was after freedom, our folks would give big weddings +just like they do now (just after the war). I ain't got my license now. +Movin' 'round, it got lost. I was married right at home where me and my +old man stayed. Wasn't nobody there but me and him and another man named +Dr. Bryant. That wasn't far from Midway. + +"I can't talk much since I had those strokes. Can't talk plain, just +have to push it out, but I thank God I can do that much. The Lord let me +stay here for some reason--I don't know what. I would rather go, but he +ain't called me. + + +How the Day Went + +"We got up after daylight. Tom Eford didn't make his folks git up early. +But after he was dead and gone, things changed up. The res' made 'em git +up before daylight. He was a good man. The Lord knows. Yes Lord, way +before day. You'd be in the field to work way before day and then work +way into the night. The white folks called Eford's colored people poor +white folks because he was so good to them. Old Tom Eford was the +sheriff of Clayton. + +"His folks came back to the house at noon and et their dinner at the +house. He had a cook and dinner was prepared for them just like it was +for the white folks. The colored woman that cooked for them had it ready +when they came there for it. They had a great big kitchen and the hands +ate there. They came back to the same place for supper. And they didn't +have to work late either. Old Tom Eford never worked his hands extra. +That is the reason they called his niggers poor-white folks. Folks lived +at home them days and et in the same place. When my old man was living, +I had plenty. Smokehouse was full of good meat. Now everything you git, +you have to buy. + +"Next morning, they all et their breakfast in the same kitchen. They et +three meals a day every day. My mother never cooked except on Sunday. +She didn't need to. + + +Patrollers + +"Me and old lady Eford would be out in the yard and I would hear her +cuss the pateroles because they didn't want folks to 'buse their +niggers. They had to git a pass from their masters when they would be +out. If they didn't have a pass, the pateroles would whip them. + + +Jayhawkers + +"The jayhawkers would catch folks and carry them out in the woods and +hang them up. They'd catch you and beat you to death. + + +Runaways + +"Colored folks what would run away, old lady Eford would call them +'rottenheads' and 'bloody bones.' We would hear the hounds baying after +them and old lady Eford would stand out in the yard and cuss them--cuss +the hounds I mean. Like that would do any good. Some slaves would kill +theirselves before they would be caught. They would hear them dogs. I +have seen old Tom Eford. He would have them dogs. He was sheriff and he +had to do it. He carried them dogs. He would be gone two weeks before +he would be back sometimes. Alden or Alton was the place they said they +carried the runaways. + + +Slave Breeding + +"They never kept no slaves for breeding on any plantation I heard of. +They would work them to death and breed them too. There was places where +old massa kept one for hisself. + + +Amusements + +"Folks had heap more pleasure than they do now in slave time. They had +parties and dances and they would bow 'round. They had fiddles and +danced by them. Folks danced them days. They don't dance now, just mess +around. My brother could scrape the fiddle and dance on, all at the same +time. Folks would give big suppers and ask people out. They would feed +nice times with one another. Folks ain't got no love in their hearts +like they used to have. + +"Folks would give quiltings. They don't think about quilting now. They +would quilt out a quilt and dance the rest of the night. They would have +a big supper at the quilting. Nice time too. They would kill a hog and +barbecue it. They would cook chicken. Have plenty of whiskey too. Some +folks would get drunk. That was whiskey them days. They ain't got no +whiskey now--old poison stuff that will kill people. + +My daddy was jus' drunk all the time. He had plenty of whiskey. That was +what killed old Tom Eford. He kept it settin' on the dresser all the +time. You couldn't walk in his house but what you would see it time you +got in. Folks hide it now. I have drunk a many a glass of it. I would go +and take a glass whenever I wanted to. + + +How Freedom Came + +"The old white folks told me I was free. They had me hired out. I wasn't +staying with my owner. There wasn't nobody there with me but the white +folks where I was staying. That morning I got up to get breakfast +and there wasn't no fire and there wasn't so matches. I went to some +neighbors to get a chunk of fire and they told me to go back to my folks +because I was free. When I got back to the house they was mad and wanted +to whip me. So I just put the fire down and never cooked no breakfast +but jus' went on to my brother's. The reason they wanted to whip me was +because I had gone outside of the house without their knowing it. + +"When I went to my brother's, I had to walk twelve miles. My brother +carried me to my mother and father. And then he took me back to old lady +Eford, and she told me to go on to my mother, that I was free now. So he +took me on back to my ma and pa. He said he'd do that so that I could +stay with them. + + +Slave Earnings + +"Slaves had money in slave time. My daddy bought a horse. He made a crop +every year. He made his bale of cotton. He made corn to feed his horse +with. He belonged to his white folks but he had his house and lot right +next to theirs. They would give him time you know. He didn't have to +work in the heat of the day. He made his crop and bought his whiskey. +The white folks fed 'im. He had no expenses 'cept tending to his crop. +He didn't have to give Tom Eford anything he made. He just worked his +crop in his extra time. Many folks too lazy to git theirselves somethin' +when they have the chance to do it. But my daddy wasn't that kind. His +old master gave him the ground and he made it give him the money. + +"My daddy left me plenty but I ain't got it now. I didn't care what +happened when he died. People made out like they was goin' to put my +money in the bank for me and took it and destroyed it. Used it for +theirselves I reckon. Now I need it and ain't got it--ain't got a +penny. For five or six years at my home, I made good crops. We raised +everything we needed at home. Didn't know what it was to come to town to +buy anything. If anybody had told me twenty years ago I would be in this +shape, I wouldn't have believed it because I had plenty. + + +What Slaves Got When Freed + +"They said they was gwine a give the slaves something, but they never +did do it. Then the master made out like he was gwine a give the slaves +so much if they stayed 'round and made his crops for him, but he didn't +do it. + + +Come Again + +"If the Lord lets you git back tomorrow, try and come a little sooner in +the day than you did today. I gits up about six in the morning. I don't +believe in layin' in bed late. I go to bed directly after dark and I +wake up early. The Lord never did mean for nobody to sleep all day." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +A number of people testify to Laura Thornton's age. I am trying to check +up on it. Results later. If she isn't a hundred [HW: and] five years +old, she is "mighty nigh" it. She has feeble health, but a surprisingly +alert mind, and a keen sharp memory. She has a tendency to confuse +Reconstruction times with slavery times, but a little questioning always +brings out the facts. + +She doesn't like to talk much about marriage in slavery. Evidently she +dislikes the fact that one of her children ms born before emancipation. +She was evidently married only once, as questioning brought out; but she +will refer to the marriage before emancipation and the one afterward as +though they were to different persons. + + + + +[HW: Curtis, Ark. +Emma (Bama?) Tidwell] + +OLD SLAVE STORIES + + +I + +Ah'm one uv dem ole timers. Ah been here since way back yonder. Fust +thing ah kin member is a bad storm an mah ma put us undah de baid. She +wuz skeered hit would blow us away. Ah use tuh play till ah got bigger +nuff tuh work. Ah member we use tuh play runnin. We'd play walkin tuh +see which one uv us could walk de fastest tuh de field tuh carry dinner. +We use tuh jump an we use tuh ride stick hosses an limbs offn trees. + +Ole boss learnt mah pa how tuh make shoes an de way he done: Dey kilt a +cow an a deer an take dey hides an tanned dem. De way he tanned hit wuz +tuh take red oak bark an white oak bark an put in vats. Dese vats wuz +somethin like troughs dat helt water an he put a layer uv oak ashes +an or layer uv ashes an a layer uv leather till he got hit all in an +covered wid water. Aftuh dat dey let hit soak till de hair come offn de +hide den dey would take de hide oft an hit wuz ready fuh tannin. Den de +hide wuz put tuh soak in wid de redoak bark. Hit stayed in de water till +de hide turnt tan den pa took de hide out uv de redoak dye an hit would +be a purty tan. Hit didn' have tuh soak so long. Den he would git his +pattern an cut an make tan shoes outn dat tanned hide. We called dem +brogans. We all wore shoes cause mah pa made em. + +We planted indigo an hit growed jes like wheat. When hit got ripe we +gathered hit an we would put hit in a barrel an let hit soak bout er +week den we would take de indigo stems out an squeeze all de juice outn +dem, put de juice back in de barrel an let hit stay dere bout nother +week, den we jes stirred an stirred one whole day. We let hit set three +or four days den drained de water offn hit an dat left de settlings an +de settlings wuz blueing jes like we have dese days. We cut ours in +little blocks. Den we dyed clothes wid hit. We had purty blue cloth. De +way we set de color we put alumn in hit. Dat make de color stay right +dere. + +Ah'll tell yuh how tuh dye. Er little beech bark dyes slate color set +wid copper. Hickory bark an bay leaves dyes yellow set wid chamber lye; +bamboo dyes turkey red, set color wid copper. Pine straw an sweetgum +dyes purple, set color wid chamber lye. Ifn yuh dont bleave hit try em +all. + +Mah ma made cloth while mah pa made shoes. Ah member jes as good when +dey handcuff mah ma's two brothers tuh keep um from runnin off when dey +got ready tuh sell em. Ah seed um handcuff as many as eight tugethuh +when dey marched dem tuh de pen. Yuh know dey had uh pen kinder like de +pond pen fer cows an hosses. Well dey would drive us niggers tuh de pond +pen an dey had er big block in de pen an dey put one uv us niggers on +hit at a time. Bid us off tuh de highest bidder. Mah ole boss wuz a +gambler. People talk bout dis gamblin an drinkin bein a late thing--dem +white fokes done hit way back yonder 90 years ergo, cause mah ole boss +gambled me off, ah clare he did. Gambled me off one Sunday mornin'. Ole +Boss made whiskey jes like dey do tuhday. + +Black preachers couldn' preach tuh us. Ole boss would tie em tuh a tree +an whoop em if dey caught us eben praying. We had er big black washpot +an de way we prayed we'd go out an put our mouths to der groun an pray +low an de sound wud go up under de pot an ole boss couldn' bear us. De +white preacher would call us under a tree Sunday evenin tuh preach tuh +us. Dis is whut his text would be: "Mind yo mistress." Den he would ceed +tuh preach--"Don't steal der potatoes; don't lie bout nothin an don' +talk back tuh yo boss; ifn yo does yo'll be tied tuh a tree an stripped +neckid. When dey tell yuh tuh do somethin run an do it." Dat's de kind +uv gospel we got. + +We cooked on fiuhplaces in er iron pot; cooked bread in a ubben. We had +ash cakes. We et purty good. + +Ah didn go tuh school. Ah wuz awful sly. Ah wanted tuh learn tuh read so +ah hung eroun ole mistess when she wuz teachin huh chillun tuh read. Ah +listened an when she put de book down an went out ah got de book. Ah +kep' hit up till ah learnt tuh read. Ah been teachin one Bible class in +Curtis 42 years. Some uv em dare ask me how ah learnt tuh read so good +an ah tole dem dat a person dat couldn' learn tuh read in a hunnert +years ought tuh be daid. + +Ah wuz twenty-two when de silver war broke. Ah know when hit started +but ah don' know whut hit wuz erbout. All I know Jeff Davis an Abraham +Lincoln wuz de two presidents. Lincoln wuz somethin like regular +president an Jeff Davis wuz somethin like er confedric president or +somethin. Ah didn' know jes how hit wuz. Jeff Davis ah think wuz er +rebel and Lincoln republic. When de fight come up dey wuzn fightin tuh +set de niggers free, ah don' think. At de time dey wuz fightin ovah de +Union but aftuh de slave owners wuz gwianter take de innocent slaves an +make dem fight on dey side. Den Lincoln said hit wouldn' be. So dat when +he sot em free. Whoopee! Yo ought ter seed dem Yankees fightin. Aftuh de +battle wuz ovah we would walk ovah de battle groun' an look at de daid +bones, skellums ah think dey called em. Aftuh de white fokes tole us we +wuz free dey didn' give us nothin. Turnt us out widout a place tuh stay, +no clo'es but whut we had on our back an nuthin tuh eat. We jes slept +undah trees an roun bout. Didn' have nuthin tuh eat cept parched corn. +We stole dat. Had tuh do somethin. De nex year de white fokes let us +make a crop wid den fuh somethin tuh eat an clo'es an de women could +work fuh a few clo'es an somethin tuh eat. So in er year er two niggers +went tuh tryin tuh duh somethin fuh demselves, an been tryin tuh help +dey selfs evah since. Ah know all bout hit. Ah wuz tall an ah is now +when dey cried "Free!" Ain't growed nairy nother inch. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Joe Tillman + W. 10th and Highway No. 79 + Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in 1859 down here at Walnut Lake. The man what owned us was +Crum Holmes. + +"All I can remember was the patrollers and the Ku Klux. I reckon I ought +to, I seed 'em. I got skeered and run. I heered 'em talk 'bout how +they'd do the folks and we chillun thought they'd do us the same way. + +"I 'member hearin' 'em talk 'bout the Yankees--how they'd come through +there and how they used to do. + +"I guess we had plenty to eat. All I know was when I got ready to eat, I +could eat. + +"My parents was brought from Tennessee but all the place I know anything +about is Walnut Lake. + +"I know my mother said I was the cause of her gettin' a lot of +whippin's. I'd run off and the boss man whipped her cause she wasn't +keepin' me at home. If he didn't whip her, he'd pull her ears. + +"When we was comin' up they didn't 'low the chillun to sit around where +the old folks was talkin'. And at night when company come in, we chillun +had to go to bed out the way. Sometimes I'm glad of it. See so many +chillun now gettin' into trouble. + +"I never been arrested in my life. Been a witness once or twice--that's +the only way I ever been in court. If I'd a been like a lot of 'em, I +might a been dead or in the pen. + +"In them days, if we did something wrong, anybody could whip us and if +we'd go tell our folks we get another whippin'. + +"After freedom my parents stayed there and worked by the day. They +didn't have no privilege of sellin' the cotton though. + +"I didn't start to farm till I was 'bout twelve years old. They started +me bustin' out the middles till I learnt how and then they put the +plowin' in my hands. + +"White people been pretty good to me 'cause I done what they told me. + +"I went to school a little 'long about '70. I learnt how to read and +kept on till I could write a little. + +"I used to vote 'til they stopped us. I used to vote right along, but I +stopped foolin' with it. 'Course we can vote in the president election +but I got so I couldn't see what ticket I was votin', so I stopped +foolin' with it. + +"I farmed till 'bout '94, then I worked at the compress and brick work." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: J.T. Tims + 111 Mosaic Temple, Ninth and Broadway + Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 86 +Occupation: Cook, waiter, and farmer + + +"I was born in Jefferson County, Mississippi in 1853. That would make me +eighty-six years old. I was born six miles from Fayette--six miles east +of Fayette. I was eighty-six years old the eleventh day of September. + +"My father's name was Daniel Tims, and my mother's name was Ann Tims. My +mother was born in Lexington, Kentucky. Ma's been dead years and years +ago, and my father is gone too. My mother's name before she married was +----; she she told it to us all right but I just never can think of it. + +"I don't know the name of my mother's master. But my father's master +was named Blount Steward. Pa was born on Blount's plantation and Blount +bought my ma because they brought her from Kentucky for sale. They had +her for sale just like you would sell hogs and mules. Then my father saw +her and liked her and married her. She was a slave too. + + +Master + +"Blount Steward was kinder good. He was very well till the war +started--the Federal War. Miss Ann went to whip me for nothing. + + +Whippings + +"I was carrying her daughter to school every day except Saturdays and +Sundays. One day, Miss Ann was off and I was at the back steps playing +and she decided to whip me. I told her I hadn't done nothing but she put +my head between her legs and started to beatin' me. And I bit her legs. +She lemme loose and hollered. Then she called for William to come and +beat me. William was one of the colored slaves. William come to do it. +Ma had been peeping out from the kitchen watchin' the whole thing. When +William come up to beat me, she came out with a big carving knife and +told him, 'That's my child and if you hit him, I'll kill you.' + +"Then she sent for Tully to come and whip me, I mean to whip my mother. +Tully was my young master. Tully came and said to my mother, 'I know you +ain't done nothin' nor your child neither, but I'll have to hit you a +few light licks to satisfy ma.' + +"Blount come the next day and went down to where pa was making shoes. He +said, 'Daniel, you're looking mighty glum.' + +"Pa said, 'You'd be lookin' glum too if your wife and chile had done +been beat up for nothin'.' + +"When he said that, Blount got mad. He snatched up a shoe hammer and hit +pa up side the head with it. + +"Pa said, 'By God, don't you try it again.' + +"Blount didn't hit him again. Pa was ready to fight, and he wasn't sure +that he could whip him. Pa said, 'You won't hit me no more.' The war was +goin' on then. + + +Runaways + +"The following Sunday night, twelve head of 'em left there. My ma and +pa and me and our whole family and some more besides was along. We went +from the plantation to Rodney, Mississippi first, trying to get on a +steamboat--gunboat. The gunboat wouldn't take us for fear we would get +hurt. The war was goin' on then. So we just transferred down the river +and went on to Natchez. We went there walking and wading. We was from +Sunday night to Sunday night gettin' there. We didn't have no trouble +'sept that the hounds ms runnin' us. But they didn't catch us--they +didn't catch none of us. My ma and my pa and my brothers and sisters +besides me was all in the crowd; and we all got to Natchez. + +"They are all dead and gone to Judgment now but me. I think that I got +one sister in Chicago, Illinois. She is my baby sister. I ain't never +heard nothing about her bein' dead. + + +Natchez + +"At Natchez, ma didn't do anything. We children didn't do nothin' either +there. But pa joined the army. He joined it the next day after he got +there. Then I went to work waiting on the sixty-fourth--lemme see--yes, +it was the Sixty-Fourth Brass Epaulettes. I was waiting on one of the +sergeants. He was a Yankee sergeant. The sergeant's name was Josephus, +and the captain of the Company was Lieutenant Knowles. I was with them +two years and six months. I never did get hurt. When they went to fight +at New Orleans, the captain wouldn't lemme take part in it. He said that +I was so brave he was a 'fraid I might get hurt. + +"Me and my father were the only ones working in the family at that time. +I stayed right in Natchez but my father didn't. My father's first stop +was in Bullocks Bar right above Vidalia. That was where his company was +stationed first. Lemme see, he went from there to Davis Bend. I wasn't +with them. He was in a colored regiment. I was with a white regiment. +He left Davis Bend and want to Vicksburg. His next trip was up the +Sunflower River. His next trip he went from there up here to De Valls +Bluff. That is where he come free. That was the end of the fighting +there--right there. + +"From there he come back to Rodney. We all want to Davis Bend while pa +was there. When he left and went to De Valls Bluff, ma went to Rodney. +I stayed with the soldiers two years and a half down there at Natchez. +That's as far as I went with them. When they left I stayed. + +"I went to Rodney with my mother and stayed with her and the rest of the +children till she died. My ma died in 1874. My father died down here in +Pine Bluff several years ago. After ma died, pa married another woman. +He went back to Pine Bluff and was killed by a train when he was +crossing a trestle. + + +Age and Other Masters + +"Blount Steward was the only master any of us ever had, outside of my +ma's first master--the one in Kentucky. I don't know anything about +them. I was eight years old when the war began and twelve years old when +it ended. I must have been older than that because I was twelve years +old when I was serving them soldiers. And I had to come away from them +before the war was over. + + +Slave Work + +"The first work I ever did in slave time was dining-room service. When I +left the dining-room table, I left carrying my young mistress to school +six miles from Fayette. They give me to Lela, my young mistress. She was +the young girl I was carrying to school when I got the whipping. When +ol' mis' was whippin' me, I asked her what she was whipping me for, and +she said, 'Nothin', 'cause you're mine, and I can whip you if I want +to.' She didn't think that I had done anything to the girl. She was just +mad that day, and I was around; so she took it out on me. After that, I +never did any more work as a slave, because the whole family ran away +about that time. I don't reckon pa would ever have run off if ol' miss +hadn't whipped me and if ol' massa hadn't struck him. They rats good +till then; but it looked like the war made them mean. + + +Patrollers, Jayhawkers, Ku Klux, and Ku Klux Klan + +"They had pateroles going 'round watching the colored people to keep +them from running off. That's all I know 'bout them. I don't remember +hearin' anything about the jayhawkers. + +"I heard lots 'bout the Ku Klux. They were terrible. The white folks had +one another goin' 'round watching and keeping them from runnin' off. The +Ku Klux would whip people they caught out. They would whip them just +because they could; because they called themselves bosses, because they +was white and the colored people was niggers. They didn't do nothin' but +just keep the slaves down. It was before the war that I knew 'bout the +Ku Klux. There wasn't no difference between the pateroles and the Ku +Klux that I knows of. If they'd ketch you, they all would whip you. I +don't know nothin' about the Ku Klux Klan after the war. I know they +broke them up. + + +Slave Houses, Furniture, Food, and Work + +"Before the war, we lived in a old log house. It had one window, one +door, and one room. Colored people didn't have no two or three-room +houses before the war. I'll tell you that right now. All the furniture +we had was bed stools and quilts. 'Course we had them old stools that pa +made. We kept food right there in the house where we was in one corner. +We didn't have no drawers--nothing like that. The white folks fed us. +They give us as much as they thought we ought to have. Every Saturday +night you would go to the smokehouse and get your meat and meal and your +molasses. Didn't get no flour, no coffee, no sugar. Pa was an ox driver +and when he would go to Rodney to carry cotton, he would buy sugar and +coffee for himself. You see, they would slip a little something and make +a little money off it. Like they was goin' to Rodney tomorrow, they +would slip and kill a couple of hogs and carry them along with them. +That was the only way they could get a little money. My pa's main work +was shoemaking, but he worked in the field too. He was a driver chiefly +when he was out in the field. He hoed and plowed. He was the leader of +the gang. He never got a chance to make no money for hisself before the +war. Nope, the colored people didn't have no money 'tall lessen they +slipped and got it. + + +Slave Marriages + +"Say I wanted this woman for my wife. We would just put down the broom +and step over it and we would be married. That is all there was to it +before emancipation. Didn't have no matrimony read nor nothing. You were +married when you stepped over the broom handle. That was your wife. + + +A Lincoln Story + +"They say Abe Lincoln come down in this part of the country and asked +for work. He had his little grip just like you got. The man said, 'Wait +till I go to dinner.' Didn't say, 'Come to dinner,' and didn't say +nothin' 'bout, 'Have dinner.' Just said, 'Wait till I go eat my dinner.' +When he come back, Abe Lincoln was up there looking over his books. He'd +done changed his clothes and everything. He had guards with him but they +didn't see 'em. That is the story I heard them tell. + + +What the Slaves Got + +"When the slaves got freed, they wasn't expecting to get nothing that +I knows of 'cept what they worked for. They weren't spectin' no forty +acres and a mule. Who was goin' to give it to 'em? The Rebs? They didn't +give 'em nothin' but what they could put on their backs--I mean lashes. + +"Blount had stocks that he used to put them in. The stocks had hinges on +one side and latches on the other. The nigger would put his head in one +hole and his arms through the others, and the old man would eat on the +other end. Your feet would be stretched out and you would be layin' on +your belly. + +"Blount whipped me once because I wouldn't go to the cow barns to get +the milk to put in the coffee that morning. I didn't have time. They had +given me to Lela, and I had to take her to school. I was 'sponsible if +she was late. He had give me to Lela. Next morning with her, and we +didn't come back till Friday evening. She went down to her Aunt Leona +Harrison's and carried me with her. She was mad because they whipped me +when I belonged to her. + +"After slavery, we worked by the month on people's plantations. I did +that kind of work till after a while the white people got so they rented +the colored people land and selled them mules for their work. Then some +worked on shares and some rented and worked for theirselves. Right after +the war most of the farms were worked on shares. We were lucky to be +able to get to work by the month. + + +Schooling + +"I went to school in Natchaz, Mississippi. My teacher came from the +North, I suppose. But those I had in Rodney, I know they come from the +North. Miss Mary--that's all the name I knowed--and Miss Emma were my +teachers in Rodney. They come from Chicago; I never went to school here. +I didn't get no farther than the second grade. I stopped school to go +work when the teacher went back to Chicago. After that I went to work in +the field and made me a living. I hadn't done but a little work in the +field helping pa now and then before that. + + +Marriages + +"I married a long time ago in Rodney. Lord, it's been so long ago I +couldn't tell you when. I been married four times. They all quit me for +other men. I didn't quit none of them. + + +Present Condition + +"I get along tolerably now for an old man. The welfare gives me a little +help. But I have to pay five dollars for these two rooms every month. +What's more, I got to eat, and I got to have somethin' to wear. +Washington won't allow me nothin' for my army service. They say I wasn't +regular. I gets eight dollars from the Welfare. + + +Opinions + +"The young people's terrible. They rather go to the penitentiary or the +county farm or get killed than to do what is right. + + +Voting and Vocational Experiences + +"I used to vote. I never had no trouble about it. + +"They tried to whip me once since freedom, but not about votin'. A man +tried to whip me down in Stoneville because another man give me a drink. +He tried to cut me with his knife. I knocked him down. I told him I +could kill him, but I just didn't want to. While I was swearing out a +warrant to get him arrested, he went and got a gun somewheres. He came +right on in with his pistol and struck me with it. I knocked him down +again, and he was dead for twenty-five minutes. They didn't have to go +nowheres to serve the warrant on him. Nobody did anything to me about +it. + +"I come to Little Rock fifty years ago or more. I farmed as long as I +was able. Doctor stopped me when I began to fall out. + +"I cooked for Dr. Stone and his wife for ten years in Greenville, +Mississippi. Then I come to Pine Bluff on a vacation. The next time they +give me a vacation, I stayed away for eleven years. I went to get some +money Dr. Stone owed me for some work I had done for him once and he +wanted me to come back and cook again. I didn't do that and he died +without paying me for the work. He said it was his brother that owed me. +But it was him that hired me. I 'tended to some mules for nine months +at four dollars a week. I never got but one four dollars. The miles +belonged to him and his brother both, but it was him that hired me. It +wasn't Captain Stone, his brother. It was him, and I looked to the man +that hired me for my money. I didn't have nothing to do with nobody but +him. It was him promised to pay me." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Throughout his story Tims carefully avoided using his first name. Never +at any time did he let it slip. + +The capture of New Orleans was effected in 1862. If the troop with which +he worked took part in the capture, he must have been twelve years old +by 1862, and his age must be at least eighty-eight. But this would be +inconsistent with his statement that he served Sergeant Josephus for two +years and a half. The detachment might have gone to New Orleans later +than '62. At any rate, Tims is at least eighty-five, and possibly older. +Here again we have a definite conviction of the use of the word Ku Klux +before the War. The way he talks of it, the term might have been a +colloquial term applied to a jayhawker or a patroller. He doesn't mean +Ku Klux Klan when he says Ku Klux. + +The Lincoln story is included on my part merely because it is at least +legendary material. I don't know what basis of fact it could or might +have. + + + + +Interviewer: S.S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Hannah Travis, + 3219 W. Sixteenth, + Little Rock, Ark. +Age: 75 +Occupation: Housewife + + +"The Jay Hawkers would travel at night. When they came to a cabin, they +would go in and tell them that owned it they wanted something to eat and +to get it ready quick. They stopped at one place and went in and ordered +their dinner. They et the supper and went away and got sick after they +left. They got up the next morning and examined the road and the horse +tracks and went on. They all thought something had been given to them, +but I don't guess there was. They caught my mother and brought her here +and sold her. If they caught a nigger, they would carry him off and sell +him. That's how my mother came to Arkansas. + +"I don't know what year I was born in. I know the month and the day. It +was February tenth. I have kinder kept up with my age. As near as I can +figure, I am seventy-three years old. I was 18 in 1884 when I married. I +must have been born about 1864, I was brought up under my step father; +he was a very mean man. When he took a notion to he'd whip me and mother +both. + +"My mother was born somewheres in Missouri, but whereabouts I don't +know. One of her masters was John Goodet. His wife was named Eva Goodet. +He was a very mean man and cruel, and his wife was too. My grandmother +belonged to another slaveholder and they would allow her to go to see my +mother. She was allowed to work and do things for which she was given +old clothes and other little things. She would take em and bring em to +my mother. As soon as she had gone, they would take them things away +from my mother, and put em up in the attic and not allow her to wear +them. They would let the clothes rot and mildew before they'd let my +mother wear them. If my mother left a dish dirty--sometimes there would +be butter or flour or something in the dish that would need to be +soaked--they would wait till it was thoroughly soaked and then make her +drink the old dirty dish water. They'd whip her if she didn't drink it. + +"Her other master was named Harrison. He was tolerable but nothing to +bragg on. + +"After she was Jayhawked and brought down South, they sold her to John +Kelly, a man in Arkansas somewhere. She belonged to John Kelly and his +wife when freedom came. John Kelly and his wife kept her working for +them without pay for two years after she was free. They didn't pay her +anything at all. They hardly gave her anything to eat and wear. They +didn't tell her she was free. She saw colored people going and coming +in a way they wasn't used to, and then she heard her Mistress' youngest +daughter tell her mother, 'You ought to pay Hannah something now because +you know she is free as we are. And you ought to give her something to +eat and wear.' The mother said, 'You know I can't do that hard work; +I'm not used to it.' After hearing this my mother talked to the colored +people that would pass by and she learned for _shor_ enough she was +free. + +"There was a colored man there that they were keeping too. One Sunday, +they were taking him to church and leaving my mother behind. She said to +them, 'Well, I will be gone when you come back, so you better leave Bill +here this morning.' Her old mistress said to her, 'Yes; and we'll come +after you and whip you every step of the way back.' But she went while +they were at church and they did not catch her either. + +"The Saturday before that she made me a dress out of the tail of an old +bonnet and a big red handkerchief. Made waist, sleeves and all out of +that old bonnet and handkerchief. She left right after they left for +church, and she dressed me up in my new dress. She put the dress on me +and went down the road. She didn't know which way to go. She didn't know +the way nor which direction to take. She walked and she walked and she +walked. Then she would step aside and listen and ask the way. + +"It was near night when she found a place to stay. The people out in the +yard saw her pass and called to her. It was the youngest daughter of +Mrs. Kelly, the one she had overheard telling her mother she ought to +set her free and pay her. She stayed with John Kelly's daughter two or +three days. I don't know what her name was, only she was a Kelly. Then +she got out among the colored people and got to working and got some +clothes for herself and me. From then on, she worked and taken care of +me. + +"From there she went to Pocahontas and worked and stayed there till I +was about fifteen years old. Meanwhile, she married in Pocahontas. Then +she moved to Newport. When I was fifteen, I married in Newport. My +mother supported herself by cooking and washing. Then she got a chance +to work on a small boat cooking and doing the boat washing, and there +would be weeks that some of the deck hands would have to help her +because they would have such a crowd of raftsmen. Sometimes there would +be twenty or thirty of them raftsmen--men who would cut the logs and +raft them to go and bring them down the river. Then the deck hands would +have to help her. I too would have to wash the dishes and help out. + +"I went to school in Pocahontas and met my future husband (Travis). I +brought many a waiter to serve when they had a crowd. I took Travis to +the boat and he was hired to wait on the men. When they had just the +crew--Captain, Clerk, Pilot, Engineer, Mate, and it seems there was +another one--I waited on the table myself. I help peel the potatoes and +turn the meat. When we had that big run, then Mr. Travis and some of the +others would come down and help me. The boat carried freight, cotton, +and nearly anything might neer that was shipped down to town. Pocahontas +was a big shipping place. + +"My mother said they used to jump over the broom stick and count that +married. The only amusement my mother had was work. I don't know if she +knowed there was such a thing as Christmas. + +"Mother's little house was a log cabin like all the other slaves had. + +"They didn't give her anything much to eat. They was farmers. They +raised their own cattle and hogs. The niggers did the same--that is, the +niggers raised everything and got a little to eat. They had one nigger +man that was around the house and others for the field. They didn't +allow the slaves to raise anything for themselves and they didn't give +them much. + +"The slaves made their own clothes and their own cloth. They would not +let the slaves have anything much. To keep them from being stark naked, +they'd give them a piece to wear. + +"Mama got to see her mother in 1885. When I married she left and went to +Missouri and found her sister and half-sister and her mother and brother +or cousin. She found her sister's oldest daughter. She was a baby laying +in the cradle when mama ran through the field to get away from a young +man that wanted to talk to her. + +"My grandmother was a full-blooded Indian. Her husband was a French +Negro. Nancy Cheatham was her name. + +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. They bothered some people about a mile +from us. They took out the old man and whipped him. They made his wife +get up and dance and she was in a delicate state. They made her get out +of bed and dance, and after that they took her and whipped her and beat +her, and she was in a delicate state too. + +"There was a man there in Black Rock though that stopped them from +bothering anybody. He killed one of them. They went to the train. They +was raging around there then. He got off the train and they tried to +take him to jail. The jail was way out through the woods. He hadn't done +anything at all. They just took hold of him to take him to the jail +because he had just come into the town. They had tugged him down the +road and when they got to the woods, he took out his gun and killed one +of them, and the rest left him alone. The man who was killed had a wife +and four or five children. They sent the nigger to the penitentiary. He +stayed there about a year and come out. That broke up the Ku Klux around +Black Rock and Portia. They never seemed to get much enjoyment out of it +after that. + +"I heard from different ones' talk that a big hogshead full of money was +given to the Negroes by the Queen, but they never did get it. I think +they said the queen sent that money. I reckon it was Queen Victoria, but +I don't know. But the white folks got it and kept it for themselves. + +"Didn't nobody have any rights then. They would just put em up on a +block and auction them off. The one that give the most he would take em. +Didn't nobody have no schooling only white folks. The white children +would go to school but they didn't allow her to go. + +"Once there was a slave woman. They worked her day and night. She had a +little log cabin of her own. The spirit used to come to her at night and +tell her if she would follow them she wouldn't have to work all the rest +of her life. At first she was scared. But finally, she got used to them +and she listened to them. She got directions from them and followed +them. She went up into the loft and found a whole lot of money hid +there. She took it and built her a new house and used it. I heard my +grandmother tell this. That was my step-grandmother named Dilsey. + +"One of my bosses had a lot of money and he hid it in a cave. They tried +to find it and to make my mother tell where it was hid, but she didn't +know and couldn't tell. They came back several times and tried to find +him at home but they couldn't catch him. That was in Missouri before +freedom came. + +"I hate my father. He was white. I never did have no use for him. I +never seen him because Mama was jayhawked from the place. I never heard +my mother say much about him either, except that he was red-headed. He +was my mother's master. My mother was just forced. I hate him." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mark C. Trotter, Edmondson, Arkansas +Age: 71 + + +"My owners was Miss Betty and Mr. Luke Trotter. I was born in Tunica +County, Mississippi. I farmed all my whole life. I did like it. One +thing they said about slavery, you couldn't get away. They had dogs and +you get away and have no place to go, nothing to eat. Travel was hard +through the rough wilderness. One owner would notify another about a +runaway. They would take him back or send him word to come get the +runaway. Some of 'em tried to stay in the woods. They said they never +tried to get away. I wasn't born till after freedom. They said they felt +sorry when somebody got beat but they couldn't help it. They had feeling +for their color. + +"I come to Arkansas in 1925. I jus' can make it. I'm sickly. I made my +part, three bales cotton, last year and prices was so low and provisions +so high it is all gone. I don't get no help from the Welfare. + +"I heard old folks set around the fire and spit and talk about them very +things but I got here too late to know well enough to tell it. + +"I recollect when seed was a scarce thing. We had to save all our seed. +The women would swap around. Folks had to raise their own stock. + +"The Ku Klux didn't bother us. + +"I voted here in town. I don't bother the polls no more. I don't own +nothing. + +"Times and folks both been changing all my life. Some things is better +and some people as good as they always been." + + + + +El Dorado District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson (Colored) +Subject: NEGRO FOLKLORE--Uncle James Tubbs +Story:--Information + + +"Well ah wuz born second year after surrender. Some say dat makes me +72 years old. Mah maw only had two boys. Ah am de baby. My pa wuz name +Manger Tubbs. I wuz a purty bad boy. When ah wuz one. Ah use ter hunt. +Use ter catch six and eight possums in one night. Ah use ter love ter +fish. Spunt er many a nite campin and fishin. An playin marbles wuz a +wonderful game in mah days yo knows. Fokes wuzen so wile den. + +"Ah recollect one night we went coon huntin and de boys wuz wanderin +roun and got lost. Some of de boys wuz wanderin roun tryin to git out +and couldn' so ah said: "Dar de seben star yo all jes wait and let me +fine de way out and dey say all right," "We gwina trus yo to fine out a +way out." Went on bout 200 yards and struck our fiel'. We crawled under +fence and went on, struck our coan (corn) fiel'. Den dey all reconcile +wha dey is and ah had a big laff. When ah wuz a boy ah use to drink a +little whiskey. Finally ah said that would be mah ruin. Aftah ah got +oldah ah jess decided ah'd quit. Ah nevah did do no hahm tho. Parents +didn't raise me ter drink, ah jes taken up the habit mahself. Ah use ter +steal Grandma's aigs, He! He! She use ter go ter church and tell us not +to bother anything and fore she got out er sight we'd done gone in de +hen house. We boys git dem eggs and git on out in our play thicket and +roast em and eat em and you know grandma found out where we roast dem +aigs at, and whooe if she didn' whup us. He! He! You know the wurst race +ah evah had in mah life ah wuz comin on fum Spearsville and two coach +whipper wuz layin side de road and you know dem things run me ooo-eee +till ah got tuh a stream and you know ifn hit had not bee fer dat watah +dem things woulder caught me. + +"Coase mah grandma and me had had some putty good races. She tryin' ter +cotch me but ah loves her terday fer dose races we had. Mah ma died when +ah wuz one munt ole. Mah pa married agin and mah step-ma wuz mean to me +so mah grandma come an got me and raised me. Ah hant nevah been in jail. +Haint nevah been rested er nothin. Ah wish the chilluns of terday wuz +like dey wuz when ah wuz a boy. We lived in er two room log house. Our +house had a double chimney and we cooked on dat. You know we'd put a big +back stick uv wood on. Mah pa loved his big back sticks of wood to hold +the fire. Wudden no stoves at that time. We cooked on chimney fires. We +et ash cakes. Hit sho wuz good too. Granma say ash cake wuz healthy. Ah +bleve fokes ought ter eat a few of dem now. We had a putty good school +house made outn logs. Ah stop school when ah wuz in the third grade. Ah +learnt purty fair. We uster have ter take rocks an beat corn ter make +meal. We wud have ter go sometime fifty mile to git ter a griss mill. An +when we couldn't git coan mashed inter meal we wud make hominy and hit +sho wuz good too. + +"Ah use ter card fer granma while she wuz spinnin. We made our socks, +gloves, and thread. We didn' have dat ter buy. When ah wuz a boy +everybody farmed and we had a plenty. Didn' have drouth in does days. + +"Any kine of lan' would produce. Ah use ter get a many lashin bout +pickin cotton. Ah couldn' pick until ah got dem lashins. Some fokes say +lashin don' help but ah clare dey do. + +"Ah use ter pick cotton and sing. Ah can recollect so well de song. Hit +went lak dis: + + Me an' mah wife had a fallin out + She wanted me ter work on de railroad track + Etc. (See enclosed song) + +"Ah jes love ter talk bout when ah wuz a boy. We had a lop cabin fuh a +church house. In dem days on meetin' Sunday fokes would go ter church +and carry de chillun but now not neither the chillun nor dey ma's go +either. + +"Fokes would serve the Lord. Dey would git happy in de fiel' and fall +out choppin, choppin cotton. No sich times as hit wuz now. Aftah all er +mah youth and hardship and goodship the Lord called me ter preach and +when he called me ah answered. Ah wuz comin cross de fiel about 12 +er'clock. Ah tole him ah couldn' preach. Den ah heard a voice above +mah haid. Ah stopped and wondahed and pondered wid mahself knowin' de +condition uv mahself. Ah said, "Lord yo knows ah caint preach." Den ah +made a vow and ah stuck to hit but ah heard nother voice say, "Go and +preach" again. And ah heerd ah nother voice say "Yo go in de mawnin and +pray befo sunrise." Ah goes thar and gits on mah knees and tried ter +pray an ah heard dogs a barkin and chains rattlin an cats mewin and +everthing. Ah had heard ole fokes talk bout when yo go ter pray chains +and things would track yer tenshun. The same happen ter me. Ah want on +and ended mah prayer and yo know ah wuz a glad soul. Ah felt lak ah cud +go an then an do whut the Lawd said. Ah gone on an stahted preachin. Hit +seemed the church wuz so crowded wid so many local preachers ah couldn' +do whut de Lawd wanted me ter so ah ask the pastor ifn ah could run +prayer meetin and he said, "Why chile yes," and ah went on wid de prayer +meetin till ever'body quit his church and come to mah prayer meetin so +den he called mah han', got jealous and made me move mah prayer meetin. +So som good white fokes let me come ovah neah them and start a prayer +meetin so de people followed me and we built a church and hit is yet +dare terday." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mandy Tucker + 1021 E. 11th Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80? + + +"I was here in slavery times but I don't know what year I was born. War? +I was in it! + +"I member old master and old mistis too. I member I didn't know nothin' +bout my mother and father cause it was night when they went to work and +night when they come in and we chilluns would be under the bed asleep. + +"I know the white folks had a kitchen full of we chilluns. We went over +to the kitchen to eat. + +"My mother belonged to the Cockrills and my father belonged to the +Armstrongs. They were cousins and their plantations joined. + +"I was large enough to know when they took my parents to Texas, but I +didn't know how serious it was till they was gone. I member peepin' +through the crack of the fence but I didn't know they was takin' em off. + +"They left me with the old doctor woman. She doctored both white and +colored. I stayed there till I was fourteen years old. + +"I know we had our meals off a big wooden tray but we had wooden spoons +to eat with. + +"I member when they was fightin' here at Pine Bluff. I was standin' at +the overseer's bell house waitin' for a doll dress a girl had promised +me and the guns was goin' just like pop guns. We didn't know what it was +to take off our shoes and clothes for six months. We was ready to run if +they broke in on us. + +"The Yankees had their headquarters at the big house near the river. All +this was in woods till I growed up. We used to have our picnic here. + +"I was standin' right at the post when they rung the bell in the bell +house when peace declared. I heered the old folks sayin, 'We is free, we +is free!' + +"I know before freedom they wouldn't let us burn a speck of light at +night. Had these little iron lamps. They'd twist wicks and put em in +tallow. I don't know whether it was beef or sheep tallow but they had +plenty of sheeps on the place. + +"Colonel Cockrill would have us come up to the big house every Sunday +mornin' and he'd give us a apple or a stick of candy. But them that was +big enough to work wouldn't get any. They worked on Sunday too--did the +washin' every Sunday evenin'. + +"Oh lord, they had a big plantation. + +"After the War I went to school some. We had white teachers from the +North. I didn't get to go much except on rainy days. Other times I had +to work. I got so I could read print but I can't read writin'. I used to +could but since I been sick seems like my mind just hops off. + +"After freedom my parents rented land and farmed. I stayed with the old +doctor woman till I was fourteen then I went to my parents. + +"I married when I was eighteen and had five chillun. When I worked for +my father he'd let us quit when we got tired and sit under the shade +bushes. But when I married I had to work harder than ever. My husband +was just a run-around. He'd put in a crop and then go and leave it. +Sometimes he was a constable. Finally he went off and took up with +another woman. + +"I been here in Arkansas all my life except eight months I lived in St. +Louis, but I didn't like it. When I was in St. Louis I know it started +to snow. I thought it was somebody pickin' geese. I said, 'What is +that?' and my granddaughter said, 'Gal, that's snow.' + +"I don't know what to think of the younger generation. I think they is +just goin' out to nothin'. They say they are gettin' weaker and wiser +but I think they are weaker and foolish--they are not wise in the right +way. Some are very good to their parents and some are not. + +"Honey, I don't know how things is goin'--all I know is they is mighty +tight right now." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Emma Turner + 330 W. Sixth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery days. They never did tell me when I +was born but I was ten the seventh day of August the same year we was +freed. + +"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas. I was born in Georgia. I sent +there and got my license to show my age. I was twenty years old when I +married. + +"George Jones was my old master. But, Lawd, them folks is all dead now. +Old master and old missis, yes ma'am, all of 'em dead. + +"Fight 'round us? No, they didn't fight there but they come through +there. Yes ma'am, they come through there. Oh, chile, they got horses +and mules. + +"Used to give us the Confederate money. Wasn't no good though. They got +the silver and gold. Confederate money was white on one side and green +on the other. Yes'm, they was Yankees. + +"Oh, yes'am, old master was good to us. He didn't never marry. My +grandmother was the cook. + +"My mother was born in Virginia. I heerd her talk of the Nat Turner +Rebellion but I never did see him. + +"Our folks stayed right on after freedom and hired by the month. And +hired us children for our victuals and clothes. + +"I stayed there till I was married. Then I come to Vicksburg, +Mississippi. Had nine children and all dead but two. + +"Me? Oh, I done washin' and ironin' mostly, cooked and most anything I +could get to do. I'm all worked down now though. + +"We emigrated from Georgia to Mississippi. All my children born there. + +"I 'member the soldiers had guns and we was scared of 'em. We looked for +'em to come up the road but they come out of the woods and was around +us right now. They didn't mind creeks or nothin', ridin' horseback or +walkin'. I know they said, 'We ain't gwine hurt you.' + +"Old master's mother and father was named Sally and Billy. 'Member 'em? +'Co'se I do--many times as I waited on that table. But they all dead +'fore I even thought about bein' grown. + +"Oh, yes ma'am, we had a plenty to eat. That's the reason I misses it +now. + +"I went to school one year but I had to work so hard I done forgot +nearly everything I learned. I can read a little but my eyes ain't no +good. + +"Dem Ku Klux--you dassent be out after dark. You better not be out on +the street after dark. But Sunday night they didn't bother you when you +went to church. + +"I was raised up with two white girls and their mother didn't 'low us to +get out of the yard. + +"I used to pick peas and cotton. Yes ma'am, that was when we was with +the same old man, George Jones. I used to huddle (herd) cows for miles +and miles. My mother was the milk woman. I don't know how many she +milked but she milked a heap of 'em. + +"Used to climb up in trees and tear our clothes. Then they'd whip us. +Old master say, 'Don't you tell me no lie.' Then old Miss Sally would +get a stick and make out she gwine kill us, but she wouldn't touch us a +lick. + +"Younger generation? Now you done asked me too soon. I set here and look +at 'em. Sometimes I don't know what gwine come of 'em. When we was young +we didn't do nothin' like they doin' now. Why we dassent raise our +dresses. If we see a man comin' we pull down our skirts. Yes, Lawd." + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of interviewer: Watt McKinney +Subject: Ex-Slave and Confederate Soldiers +Story:--Information + +This information given by: "Uncle" Henry Turner (c) +Place of residence: Turner, Phillips County, Arkansas +Occupation: Plantation hand +Age: 93 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + + I'm gettin' old and feeble now and cannot walk no more + And I've laid the rusty-bladed hoe to rest. + + Ole marster and ole missus are sleeping side by side + And their spirits are a-roamin' with the blest. + +The above lines, had they been composed today, might well have been +written with reference to "Uncle" Henry Turner, ninety-three years of +age, of Turner, Arkansas, in Phillips County, and among the very few +remaining ex-slaves, especially of those who were old enough at the time +of their emancipation to have now a clear recollection of conditions, +customs, events, and life during those days long past immediately +proceeding and following the Civil War. "Uncle" Henry's eyes have now +grown dim and he totters slightly as, supported by his cane, he slowly +shuffles along the path over a short distance between the clean, +white-washed cabin where he lives with a daughter and the small, +combination store and post office, on the porch of which he is +accustomed to sit in an old cane-bottomed chair for a few hours each day +and the white folks in passing stop to speak a few words and to buy for +him candy, cold drinks, and tobacco. + +Though "Uncle" Henry is approaching the century mark in age, his mind is +remarkably clear and his recollection is unusually keen. He was born +a slave in northern Mississippi near the small towns of Red Banks and +Byhalia, was the property of his owner. Edmond Turner, and was brought +to Phillips County by "his white folks" some months before the war. +Turner, who owned some fifty other slaves besides Henry, settled with +his family on a large acreage of land that he had purchased about +fifteen miles west of Helena near Trenton. Both Turner and his wife died +soon after taking up residence in Arkansas leaving their estate to their +two sons, Bart and Nat, who were by that time grown young men, and being +very capable and industrious soon developed their property into one of +the most valuable plantations in the County. + +As "Uncle" Henry recalls, the Turner place was, it might be said, a +world within itself, in the confines of which was produced practically +everything essential in the life of its inhabitants and the proper and +successful conduct of its operations. Large herds of cattle, hogs, +sheep, and goats provided a bountiful supply of both fresh and salt +meats and fats. Cotton and wool was carded, spun and woven into cloth +for clothes, fast colored dyes were made by boiling different kinds +of roots and barks, various colored berries were also used for this +purpose. Medicine was prepared from roots, herbs, flowers, and leaves. +Stake and rider fences enclosed the fields and pastures and while most +of the houses, barns and cribs were constructed of logs, some lumber was +manufactured in crude sawmills in which was used what was known as a +"slash saw". This was something like the crosscut saws of today and was +operated by a crank that gave the saw an alternating up and down motion. +Wheat was ground into flour and corn into meal in mills with stone burrs +similar to those used in the rural districts today, and power for this +operation was obtained through the use of a treadmill that was given +its motion by horses or mules walking on an inclined, endless belt +constructed of heavy wooden slats. + +Candles for lighting purposes were made of animal fats combined with +beeswax. Plows, harrows and cultivating implements were made on the +plantation by those Negroes who had been trained in carpentry and +blacksmithing. Plows for breaking the land were sometimes constructed +with a metal point and a wooden moldboard and harrows made of heavy +timbers with large, sharpened wooden pegs for teeth. Hats of straw and +corn shucks were woven by hand. + +Small, crude cotton gins were powered by horses or mules hitched to a +beam fastened to an upright shaft around which they traveled in a circle +and to which was attached large cogwheels that multiplied the animal's +power enormously and transmitted it by means of belt to the separating +machinery where the lint was torn from the seed. No metal ties were +available during this period and ropes of cotton were used to bind +the bales of lint. About three bales was the daily capacity of a +horse-powered plantation gin. + +It was often difficult to obtain the services of a competent doctor and +except in cases of serious illness home remedies were administered. + +Churches were established in different communities throughout the +County and the Negro slaves were allowed the privilege of attending the +services, certain pews being set apart for them, and the same minister +that attended the spiritual needs of the master and his family rendered +like assistant to his slaves. + +No undertaking establishments existed here at this time and on the death +of a person burial was made in crude caskets built of rough cypress +planks unless the deceased was a member of a family financially able to +afford the expensive metal caskets that were available no nearer than +Memphis. "Uncle" Henry Turner recalls the death of Dan Wilborn's little +six-year-old boy, Abby, who was accidentally killed when crushed by a +heavy gate on which he was playing, and his burial in what "Uncle" Henry +described as a casket made of the same material as an old-fashioned door +knob; and while I have no other authority than this on the subject, +it is possible that in that day caskets were made of some vitrified +substance, perhaps clay, and resembling the present day tile. + +The planters and slaveowners of this period obtained the greater share +of their recreation in attendance at political rallies, horse races, and +cock fights. Jobe Dean and Gus Abington who came to Trenton from their +home near La Grange, Tennessee were responsible for the popularity of +these sports in Phillips County and it was they who promoted the most +spectacular of these sporting events and in which large sums of money +were wagered on the horses and the game cocks. It is said that Marve +Carruth once owned an Irish Grey Cock on which he bet and won more than +five thousand dollars one afternoon at Trenton. + +No Negro slave was allowed to go beyond the confines of his owner's +plantation without written permission. This was described by "Uncle" +Henry Turner as a "pass"; and on this "pass" was written the name of the +Negro, the place he was permitted to visit, and the time beyond which he +must not fail to return. It seems that numbers of men were employed by +the County or perhaps by the slaveowners themselves whose duty it was +to patrol the community and be on constant watch for such Negroes who +attempted to escape their bondage or overstayed the time limit noted on +their "pass". Such men were known then as "Paddy Rolls" by the Negroes +and in the Southern states are still referred to by this name. +Punishment was often administered by them, and the very mention of the +name was sufficient to cause stark terror and fear in the hearts of +fugitive slaves. + +At some time during that period when slavery was a legal institution in +this country, the following verse was composed by some unknown author +and set to a tune that some of the older darkies can yet sing: + + Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you + Run nigger run, it's almost day. + That nigger run, that nigger flew + That nigger tore his shirt into. + Run nigger run, the Paddy Roll will get you + Run nigger run, it's almost day. + +Both Bart Turner and his brother Nat enlisted in the services of the +Confederacy. Nat Turner was a member of the First Arkansas Volunteers, +a regiment organized at Helena and of which Patrick R. Cleburne was +colonel. Dick Berry and Milt Wiseman, friends and neighbors of the +Turners, also volunteered and enlisted in Cleburne's command. These +three stalwart young men from Phillips County followed Cleburne +and fought under his battle flag on those bloody fields at Shiloh, +Murfreesboro, Ringgold gap, and Atlanta; and they were with him that day +in November in front of the old gin house at Franklin as the regiment +formed for another and what was to be their last charge. The dead lay +in heaps in front of them and almost filled the ditch around the +breastworks, but the command though terribly cut to pieces was forming +as cooly as if on dress parade. Above them floated a peculiar flag, +a field of deep blue on which was a crescent moon and stars. It was +Cleburne's battle flag and well the enemy knew it; they had seen it +so often before. "I tip my hat to that flag" said the Federal General +Sherman years after the war. "Whenever my men saw it they knew it meant +fight." As the regiment rushed on the Federal breastworks a gray clad +figure on a chestnut horse rode across the front of the moving column +and toward the enemy's guns. The horse went down within fifty yards of +the breastworks. The rider arose, waved his sword, and led his men on +foot to the very ramparts. Then he staggered and fell, pierced with a +dozen balls. It was Cleburne, the peerless field-marshal of Confederate +brigade commanders. The Southern cause suffered a crushing defeat at +Franklin and the casualty list recorded the names of Nat Turner, Dick +Berry, and Milt Wiseman, who like their beloved commander had given +their life for their country. There is an inscription on the stone base +of the magnificent bronze statue of General N. B. Forrest astride his +war horse in Forrest Park in Memphis that could well be placed above +the graves of Cleburne, Turner, Berry, and Wiseman, those brave, heroic +soldiers from Phillips County. The inscription in verse is as follows: + + Those hoof beats die not on fame's crimson sod + But will live on in song and in story. + He fought like a Trojan and struck like a god + His dust is our ashes of glory. + + + + +Interviewer: Zillah Cross Peel +Information given by: Seabe Tuttle +Residence: Washington County, seven miles east of Fayetteville. + + +Seabe Tuttle who was born in slavery in 1859, belonged to James +Middleton Tuttle of Richland, which was about seven miles east of +Fayetteville. + +"I was just a baby when the war was but I do recollect a lot of things +that my ma told me about the War. Our folks all come from Tennessee. My +mother was named Esther, she belonged to Ole Man Tom Smith who gived +her to Miss Evaline, who was Mister Mid Tuttle's wife. The Tuttles and +Smiths lived joining farms." + +"You see, Mister Tuttle was a colonel in the Confederate army and when +he went off with the army he left all his slaves and stock in care of +Mr. Lafe Boone. Miss Mollie and Miss Nannie, and Miss Jim and another +daughter I disrecolect her her name, all went in carriages and wagons +down south following the Confederate army. They took my pa, Mark, and +other servants, my mother's sister, Americus and Barbary. They told them +they would bring them back home after the War. Then my mother and me and +the other darkies, men and women and children, followed them with the +cattle and horses and food. But us didn't get no further than Dardanelle +when the Federals captured us and took us back to the Federal garrison +at Ft. Smith, where they kept us six months. Yes'm they were good to us +there. We would get our food at the com'sary. But one day my ma and my +sister, Mandy, found a white man that said he would bring us back to +Fayetteville. No'm, I disremember his name." + +"We found us a cabin to live in here. Didn't have to pay rent then likes +they do now. We lived here but after a while my mother died. They had +two battles 'round here, the Battle of Prairie Grave and one was the +Battle of Pea Ridge, after we comed back but no soldiers bothered us. I +remember that back from where the Christian church is now, down to the +Town Branch, there was a whole lot of Federal soldiers staying, they +called it then Cato Branch, cause a man by the name of Cato owned all +that land." + +"Yes'm, I guess we had a purty good master and missus. We never did get +treated much rough." + +"After the War, Miss Evaline brought back all the colored people that +she took with her, but my father. He got married down there and didn't +come back for a long time. Then he did and died here. Two of Miss +Eveline's daughters married down there. They didn't have no boys 'tall, +just four girls." + +"When Peace was made the slaves all scattered. We none was givin' +nothin' for as I know. I worked on a farm for $13. a month and my board, +for a man down at Oxford's Bend, then I went down to Van Buren where I +worked as a porter in a hotel then I went to Morrilton and I married. We +come back here and I worked all the time as a carpenter. I worked for +Mister A.M. Byrnes. I helped build a lot of fine houses round here and I +helped put a roof on the Main Building at the University." + +"Yes'm, I own my home down by the school, I can't make much money these +days. It kinda worries me. My folks all dead but three of my brothers +children. One of these is blind. He lives on the old home my mother had. +The county gives him a little food and a little money." + +"Yes'm, my white folks were all good to us. Purty good to us." + +"After Peace was made though, we all jes' scattered, somehow." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: Arkansas Narratives +by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES: ARKANSAS *** + +***** This file should be named 11709.txt or 11709.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/7/0/11709/ + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced +from images provided by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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