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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/11422-0.txt b/11422-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..87c2460 --- /dev/null +++ b/11422-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7387 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11422 *** + +[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 7 + + + + +Prepared by +the Federal Writers' Project of +the Works Progress Administration +for the State of Arkansas + + + +INFORMANTS + +Vaden, Charlie +Vaden, Ellen +Van Buren, Nettie +Vaughn, Adelaide J. + +Wadille [TR: Waddille], Emmeline +Wadille (Waddell), Emmeline (Emiline) +Waldon, Henry +Walker, Clara +Walker, Henry +Walker, Jake +Walker, Jake +Wallace, Willie +Warrior, Evans +Washington, Anna +Washington, Eliza +Washington, Jennie +Washington, Parrish +Watson, Caroline +Watson, Mary +Wayne, Bart +Weathers, Annie Mae +Weathers, Cora +Webb, Ishe +Wells, Alfred +Wells, Douglas +Wells, John +Wells, Sarah +Wells, Sarah Williams +Wesley, John +Wesley, Robert +Wesmoland, Maggie +West, Calvin +West, Mary Mays +Wethington, Sylvester +Whitaker, Joe +White, Julia A. +White, Lucy +Whiteman, David +Whiteside, Dolly +Whitfield, J.W. +Whitmore, Sarah +Wilborn, Dock +Wilks, Bell +Williams, Bell +Williams, Charley +Williams, Charlie +Williams, Columbus +Williams, Frank +Williams, Gus +Williams, Henrietta +Williams, Henry Andrew (Tip) +Williams, James +Williams, John +Williams, Lillie +Williams, Mary +Williams, Mary +Williams, Mary +Williams, Rosena Hunt +Williams, III, William Ball (Soldier) +Williamson, Anna +Williamson, Callie Halsey +Willis, Charlotte +Wilson, Ella +Wilson, Robert +Windham, Tom +Wise, Alice +Wise, Frank +Withers, Lucy +Woods, Anna +Woods, Cal +Woods, Maggie +Word, Sam +Worthy, Ike +Wright, Alice +Wright, Hannah Brooks + +Yates, Tom +Young, Annie +Young, John + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS + +Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson +Subject: NEGRO LORE +Story:--Information + +This information given by: Charlie Vaden +Place of Residence: Hazen, Green Grove, Ark. +Occupation: Farming +Age: 77 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +Charlie Vaden's father ran away and went to the war to fight. He was a +slave and left his owner. His mother died when he was five years old but +before she died she gave Charlie to Mrs. Frances Owens (white lady). She +came to Des Arc and ran the City Hotel. He never saw his father till he +was grown. He worked for Mrs. Owens. He never did run with colored folks +then. He nursed her grandchildren, Guy and Ira Brown. When he was grown +he bought a farm at Green Grove. It consisted of a house and forty-seven +acres of land. He farmed two years. A fortune teller came along and told +him he was going to marry but he better be careful that they wouldn't +live together or he might "drop out." He went ahead and married like he +was "fixing" to do. They just couldn't get along, so they got divorced. + +They had the wedding at her house and preacher Isarel Thomas (colored) +married them and they went on to his house. He don't remember how she +was dressed except in white and he had a "new outfit too." + +Next he married Lorine Rogers at the Green Grove Church and took her +home. She fell off the porch with a tub of clothes and died from it just +about a year after they married. + +He married again at the church and lived with her twenty years. They had +four girls and four boys. She died from the change of life. + +The last wife he didn't live with either. She is still living. + +Had another fortune teller tell his fortune. She said, "Uncle, you are +pretty good but be careful or you'll be walking around begging for +victuals." He said it had nearly come to that now except it hurt him to +walk. (He can hardly walk.) He believes some of what the fortune tellers +tell comes true. He has been on the same farm since 1887, which is +forty-nine years, and did fine till four years ago. He can't work, +couldn't pay taxes, and has lost his land. + +He was paralized five months, helpless as a baby, couldn't dress +himself. An herb doctor settled at Green Grove and used herbs for tea +and poultices and cured him. The doctors and the law run him out of +there. His name was Hopkins from Popular Bluff, Missouri. + +Charlie Vaden used to have rheumatism and he carried a buckeye in each +pants pocket to make the rheumatism lighter. He thought it did some +good. + +He has a birthmark. Said his mother must have craved pig tails. He never +had enough pig tails to eat in his life. The butchers give them to him +when he comes to Hazen or Des Arc. He said he would "fight a circle saw +for a pig tail." + +He can't remember any old songs or old tales. In fact he was too small +when his mother died (five years old). + +He believes in herb medicine of all kinds but can't remember except +garlic poultice is good for neuralgia. Sassafras is a good tea, a good +blood purifier in the spring of the year. + +He knows a weather sign that seldom or never falls. "Thunder in the +morning, rain before noon." "Seldom rains at night in July in Arkansas." + +He has seen lots of lucky things but doesn't remember them. "It's bad +luck to carry hoes and rakes in the living house." "It's bad luck to spy +the new moon through bushes or trees." + +He doesn't believe in witches, but he believes in spirits that direct +your course as long as you are good and do right. He goes to church all +the time if they have preaching. Green Grove is a Baptist church. He is +not afraid of dead people. "They can't hurt you if they are dead." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Ellen Vaden + DeValls Bluff, Ark. +Age: 83 + + +"I am 83 years old. My mother come from Georgia. She left all her kin. +Our owner was Dave and Luiza Johnson. They had two girls and a +boy--Meely, Colly and Tobe. My mother's aunt come to Memphis in slavery +time and come to see us. She cooked and bought herself free. The folks +what owned her hired her out till they got paid her worth. She died in +Memphis. I never heard father say where he come from or who owned him. +He lived close by somewhere. + +"My mother cooked. Me and Dave Johnson's boy nursed together. When they +had company, Miss Luiza was so modest she wouldn't let Tobe have +'titty'. He would come lead my mother behind the door and pull at her +till she would take him and let him nurse. She said he would lead her +behind the door. + +"I don't remember freedom. I know the Ku Klux was bad around Augusta, +Arkansas. One time when I was little a crowd of Ku Klux come at about +dusk. They told Dave Johnson they wanted water. He told them there was a +well full but not bother that woman and her children in the kitchen. +Dave Johnson was a Ku Klux himself. They went on down the road and met a +colored woman. She knowed their horses. She called some of them by name +and they let her alone. + +"One time a colored man was settin' by the fire. His wife was sick in +bed. He seen the Ku Klux coming and said 'Lord God, here comes the +devil.' He run off. They didn't bother her. She told them she was sick. +When she got up and well she wouldn't live with that husband no more. + +"Up at Bowens Ridge they took some colored men out one night and if they +said they was Republicans they let them go but if they said they was +Democrats they whooped them so hard they nearly killed some of them. +Some said they was bushwhackers or carpet baggers and not Ku Klux. + +"I am a country-raised woman. I had a light stroke and cain't work in +the field. I get $8.00 and commodities. I like to live here very well. I +don't meddle with young folks business. Seems like they do mighty +foolish things to me. Times been changing ever since I come in this +world. It is the people cause the times to change. I wouldn't know how +to start to vote." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Nettie Van Buren, Clarendon, Arkansas + Ex school-teacher +Age: 62 + + +"My mother was named Isabel Porter Smith. She come from Springville. +Rev. Porter brought her to Mississippi close to Holly Springs. Then she +come to Batesville, Arkansas. He owned her. He was a circuit rider. I +think he was a Presbyterian minister. I heard her say they brought her +to Arkansas when she was a small girl. She nursed and cooked all the +time. After freedom she went with Reverend Porter's relatives to work +for them. I know so very little about what she said about slavery. + +"My father was raised in North Carolina. His name was Jerry Smith and +his master he called Judge Smith. My father made all he ever had +farmin'. He knew how to raise cotton. He owned a home. This is his home +(a nice home on River Street in Clarendon) and 80 acres. He sold this +farm two miles from here after he had paralysis, to live on. + +"My parents had two girls and two boys. They all dead but me. My +mother's favorite song was "Oh How I Love Jesus Because He First Loved +Me." They come here because my mother had a brother down here and she +heard it was such fine farmin' land. + +"When I was a little girl my father was a Presbyterian so he sent me to +boardin' school in Cotton Plant and then sent me to Jacksonville, +Illinois. I worked my board out up there. Mrs. Dr. Carroll got me a +place to work. My sister learned to sew. She sewed for the public till +her death. She sewed for both black and white folks. I stretches +curtains now if I can get any to stretch and I irons. It give me +rheumatism to wash. I used to wash and iron. + +"My husband cooks on a Government derrick boat. He gets $1.25 and his +board. They have the very best things to eat. He likes the work if he +can stay well. He can cook pies and fancy cookin'. They like that. Say +they can't hardly get somebody work long because they want to be in town +every night. + +"We have one child. I used to be a primary teacher here at Clarendon. + +"I never have voted. My husband votes but I don't know what he thinks +about it. + +"I try to look at the present conditions in an encouraging way. The +young people are so extravagant. The old folks in need. The thing most +discouraging is the strangers come in and get jobs home folks could do +and need and they can't get jobs and got no money to leave on nor no +place to go. People that able to work don't work hard as they ought and +people could and willin' to work can't get jobs. Some of the young folks +do sure live wild lives. They think only of the present times. A few +young folks are buying homes but not half of them got a home. They work +where they let 'em have a room or a house. Different folks live all +kinds of ways." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Adelaide J. Vaughn + 1122 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 69 + + +"I was born in Huntsville, Alabama. My mother brought me from there when +I was five years old. She said she would come to Arkansas because she +had heard so much talk about it. But when she struck the Arkansas line, +she didn't like it and she wanted to go back. I have heard her say why +but I don't remember now; I done forgot. She thought she wouldn't like +it here, but she did after she stayed a while. + +"My bronchial tubes git all stopped up and make it hard for me to talk. +Phlegm gits all around. I been bothered with them a good while now. + +"My mother, she was sold from her father when she was four years old. +The rest of the children were grown then. Master Hickman was the one who +bought her. I don't know the one that sold her. Hickman had a lot of +children her age and he raised her up with them. They were nice to her +all the time. + +"Once the pateroles came near capturing her. But she made it home and +they didn't catch her. + +"Mr. Candle hired her from her master when she was about eighteen years +old. He was nice to her but his wife was mean. Just because mother +wouldn't do everything the other servants said Mis' Candle wanted to +whip her. Mother said she knew that Mis' Candle couldn't whip her alone. +But she was 'fraid that she would have Sallie, another old Negro woman +slave, and Kitty, a young Negro woman slave, to help whip her. + +"One day when it was freezing cold, she wanted mother to stand out in +the hall with Sallie and Clara and wash the glasses in boiling hot +water. She was making her do that because she thought she was uppity and +she wanted to punish her. When mother went out, she rattled the dishes +'round in the pan and broke them. They was all glasses. Mis' Candle +heard them breaking and come out to see about it. She wanted to whip +mother but she was 'fraid to do it while she was alone; so she waited +till her husband come home. When he come she told him. He said she +oughtn't to have sent them out in the cold to wash the glasses because +nobody could wash dishes outside in that cold weather. + +"The first morning she was at Mis' Candle's, they called her to eat and +they didn't have nothing but black molasses and corn bread for mother's +meal. The other two ate it but mother didn't. She asked for something +else. She said she wasn't used to eating that--that she ate what her +master and mistress ate at home. + +"Mis' Candle didn't like that to begin with. She told my mother that she +was a smart nigger. She told mother to do one thing and then before she +could do it, she would tell her do something else. Mother would just go +on doing the first thing till she finished that, and Mis' Candle would +git mad. But it wasn't nobody's fault but her own. + +"She asked mother to go out and git water from the spring on a rainy +day. Mother wouldn't go. Finally mother got tired and went back home. +Her mistress heard what she had to tell her about the place she'd been +working. Then she said mother did right to quit. She had worked there +for three or four months. They meant to keep her but she wouldn't stay. +Mis' Hickman went over and collected her money. + +"When mother worked out, the people that hired her paid her owners. Her +owners furnished her everything she wanted to eat and clothes to wear, +and all the money she earned went to them. + +"Mis' Candle begged Mr. Hickman to let him have mother back. He said +he'd talk to his wife and she wouldn't mistreat her any more but mama +said that she didn't want to go back and Mrs. Hickman said, 'No, she +doesn't want to go back and I wouldn't make her.' And the girls said, +'No, mama, don't let her go back.' And Mis' Hickman said, 'No, she was +raised with my girls and I am not going to let her go back.' + +"The Hickmans had my mother ever since she was four years old. My +grandfather was allowed to go a certain distance with her when she was +sold away from him. He walked and carried her in his arms. Mama said +that when he had gone as far as they would let him go, he put her in the +wagon and turned his head away. She said she wondered why he didn't look +at her; but later she understood that he hated so bad to 'part from her +and couldn't do nothing to prevent it that he couldn't bear to look at +her. + +"Since I have been grown I have worked with some people at Newport. I +stayed with them there and married there, and had all my children there. + +"I heard the woman I lived with, a woman named Diana Wagner, tell how +her mistress said, 'Come on, Diana, I want you to go with me down the +road a piece.' And she went with her and they got to a place where there +was a whole lot of people. They were putting them up on a block and +selling them just like cattle. She had a little nursing baby at home and +she broke away from her mistress and them and said, 'I can't go off and +leave my baby.' And they had to git some men and throw her down and hold +her to keep her from goin' back to the house. They sold her away from +her baby boy. They didn't let her go back to see him again. But she +heard from him after he became a young man. Some one of her friends that +knowed her and knowed she was sold away from her baby met up with this +boy and got to questioning him about his mother. The white folks had +told him his mother's name and all. He told them and they said, 'Boy, I +know your mother. She's down in Newport.' And he said, 'Gimme her +address and I'll write to her and see if I can hear from her.' And he +wrote. And the white people said they heard such a hollering and +shouting goin' on they said, 'What's the matter with Diana?' And they +came over to see what was happening. And she said, 'I got a letter from +my boy that was sold from me when he was a nursing baby.' She had me +write a letter to him. I did all her writing for her and he came to see +her. I didn't get to see him. I was away when he come. She said she was +willing to die that the Lord let her live to see her baby again and had +taken care of him through all these years. + +"My father's name was Peter Warren and my mother was named Adelaide +Warren. Before she was married she went by her owner's name, Hickman. My +daddy belonged to the Phillips but he didn't go in their name. He went +in the Warren's name. He did that because he liked them. Phillips was +his real father, but he sold him to the Warrens and he took their name +and kept it. They treated him nice and he just stayed on in their name. +He didn't marry till after both of them were free. He met her somewheres +away from the Hickman's. They married in Alabama. + +"Mama was born and mostly reared in Virginia and then come to Alabama. +That's where I was born, in Alabama. And they left there and came here. +I was four years old when they come here. + +"I never did hear what my father did in slavery time. He was a twin. The +most he took notice of he said was his brother and him settin' on an old +three-legged stool. And his mother had left some soft soap on the fire. +His brother saw that the pot was goin' to turn over and he jumped up. My +father tried to get up too but the stool turned over and caught him, +caught his little dress and held him and the hot soap ran over his dress +and on to his bare skin. It left a big burn on his side long as he +lived. His mother was there close to the house because she knowed the +soap was on and those two little boys were in there. She heard him +crying and ran in and carried him to her master. He got the doctor and +saved him. My father's mother didn't do nothing after that but 'tend to +that baby. Her master loved those little boys and kept her and _didn't +sell her because of them_. (The underscoring is the interviewer's--ed.) +That was his last master--Warren. Warren loved him more than his real +father did. Warren said he knew my father would never live after he had +such a burn. But he did live. They never did let him do much work after +the accident. + +"I think my father's master, Warren--I can't remember his first +name--farmed for a living. + +"My father and mother had five children. I don't know how many brothers +my father had. I have heard my mother say she had four sisters. I never +heard her say nothin' 'bout no brothers--just sisters. + +"I had six children. Got three living and three dead. They was grown +though when they died. I had three boys and three girls. I got two boys +living and one girl. The boy in St. Louis does pretty well. But the +other in Little Rock doesn't have much luck. If he'd get out of Little +Rock, he would find more to do. The one in St. Louis don't make much now +because they done cut wages. He's a dining-car waiter. This girl what's +here, she does all she can for me. She has a husband and my husband is +dead. He's been dead a long time. + +"I belong to Bethel A.M.E. Church. You know where that is. Rev. Campbell +is a good man. We had him eight years. Then we got Brother Wilson one +year and then they put Campbell back. + +"I don't know what to think of these young people. Some of them is +running wild. + +"When I was working for myself, I was generally a maid. But that is been +a long time ago. I washed and ironed and done laundry work when I was +able a long time ago. But I can't do it now. I can't do it for myself +now. I washed for myself a little and I got the flu and got in bad +health. That was about four years ago. I reckon it was the flu; I never +did have no doctor. When I take the least little cold, it comes back on +me." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This old lady appears nearer eighty than sixty-nine, and she speaks with +the sureness of an eyewitness. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Blanche Edwards +Person interviewed: Emmeline Waddille (deceased) + Lonoke County, Arkansas +Age: 106 + + +She immigrated with her owner, L.W.C. Waddille, to Lonoke County in +1851, coming to Hickory Plains and then to Brownsville. They moved from +Hayburn, Georgia in a covered wagon drawn by oxen. + +She lived with a great-granddaughter, Mrs. John High, seven miles north +of Lonoke, until 1932, when she died. She had nursed six generations of +the Waddille family. She was born a deaf-mute but her hearing and speech +were restored many years ago when lightening struck a tree under which +she was standing. + +Emmeline told of how they would stop for the night on the rough journey, +and while the men fed the stock, the women and slaves would cook the +evening meal of hoecake, fried venison, and coffee. The women slept in +the wagons and the men would sleep on the creek watching for wild life. +With other pioneers, they suffered all the hardships and dangers +incident to the settling of the new country more than three-fourths of a +century ago. + +Emmeline always had good care. She worked hard and faithfully and was +amply rewarded. + + + + +[HW: High] + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Blanche Edwards +ADDRESS--Lonoke, Arkansas +DATE--October 20, 1938 +SUBJECT--An Old Slave [TR: Emiline Waddell] +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Mrs. John G. High, living nine miles +north of Lonoke, Arkansas. + +2. Date and time of interview--October 20, 1938 + +3. Place of interview--At the home of Mrs. John G. High, nine miles +north of Lonoke. + +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-- + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc. + + +Text of Interview + +Emiline Waddell, a former slave of the L.W. Waddell family, lived to be +106 years old, and was active up to her death. + +She was born a slave in 1826 at Haben county, Georgia, a slave of +Claybourne Waddell, who emigrated to Brownsville, in 1851, in covered +wagons, oxen drawn. + +Her "white folks" were three weeks making the trip from the ferry across +the Mississippi to old Brownsville; after traveling all day through the +bad and boggy woods, at the end of their rough journey at eventide, the +movers dismounted and began hasty preparations for the night. While the +men were feeding the stock and providing temporary quarters, the women +assisted the slaves in preparing the evening meal, of hoe-cake, fried +venison and coffee. Then the women and children would sleep in the +wagons while the men kept watch for wild life. + +Mammy Emiline was a faithful old black mammy, true to life and +traditions, and refused her freedom, at the close of the war, as wanted +to stay and raise "Old Massa's chilluns," which she did, for she was +nursing her sixth generation in the Waddell family at the time of her +death. Even to that generation there was a close tie between the +southern child and his or her black mammy. A strange almost unbelievable +thing happened to Emiline; she was born a deaf mute, but her hearing and +speech was restored many years before her death, when lightening struck +a tree under which she was standing. + +Superstitious beliefs were strong in her and her tales of "hants" were +to "her little white chilluns", really true but hair-raising. Then she +would talk and live again the "days that are no more", telling them of +the happy prosperous, sunny land, in her negro dialect, and then tell of +the ruin and desolation behind the Yankees; the hard times my white +folks had in the reconstruction days--negro and carpetbag rule; then +give them glimpses of good--much courage, some heart and human feeling; +perhaps ending with an outburst of the negro spiritual, her favorite +being, "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home." + +After a faithful service of 106 years, Emiline died in 1932 at the home +of Mrs. John G. High, a great-granddaughter of L.W.C. Waddell living +nine miles north of Lonoke, and the grown up great-great-grandchildren +still miss Mammy. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Henry Waldon + 816 Walnut Street. North Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +"I was plowing when they surrendered. I had just learned to plow, and +was putting up some land. My young master come home and was telling me +the War was ended and we was all free. + +"I was born in Lauderdale County, Mississippi. I think it was about +1854. My father's name [HW: was] ----, my mother's [HW: was] ----, I +knew them both. + +"My mother belonged to Sterling and my father belonged to a man named +Huff--Richmond Huff. + +"We lived in Lauderdale County. Huff wouldn't sell my father and my +people wouldn't sell my mother. They lived about a mile or so apart. +They didn't marry in them days. The niggers didn't, that is. Father +would just come every Saturday night to see my mother. His cabin was +about three miles from her's. We moved from Lauderdale County to Scott +County, Mississippi, and that separated mama and papa. They never did +meet again. Of course, I mean it was the white people that moved, but +they carried mama and us with them. Papa and mama never did meet again +before freedom, and they didn't meet afterwards. + +"My mother had twelve children--eight girls and four boys. She had one +by a man named Peter Smith. She was away from her husband then. She had +four by my father--two boys and two girls; my father's name was Peter +Huff. My mother's name was Mary Sterling. I never did see my father no +more after we moved away from him. + +"My father made cotton and corn, plowed and hoed in slavery time. His +old master had seventy-five or eighty hands. His old master treated him +pretty rough. He whipped them about working. He never hired no overseer +over them. When he whipped them he took their shirts off and whipped +them on their naked backs. He cut the blood out of some of them. He +never did rub no salt nor vinegar in their wounds. His youngest son done +his overseeing. He would whip them sometime but he wasn't tight on them +like some that I knowed. + +"A fellow by the name of Jim Holbert was mean to his slaves as a man +could be. He would whip them night and day. Work them till dark; then +they would eat supper. Cook their own supper. Had nothing to cook but a +little meat and bread and molasses. Then they would go back and bale up +three or four bales of cotton. Some nights they work till twelve o'clock +then get up before daylight--'round four o'clock--and cook their +breakfast and go to work again. That was on Jim Holbert and Lard Moore's +place. Them was two different men and two different places--plantations. +They whipped their slaves a good deal--always beating down on somebody. +They made their backs sore. Their backs would be bleeding just like they +cut it with knives. Then they would wash it down with water and salt. + +"On my master's farm, each one cooked in his own cabin. While the hands +were working, my master left one child, the largest, stay there and +taken care of the little ones. + +"They had bloodhounds too; they'd run you away in the woods. Send for a +man that had hounds to track you if you run away. They'd run you and bay +you, and a white man would ride up there and say, 'If you hit one of +them hounds, I'll blow your brains out.' He'd say 'your damn brains.' +Them hounds would worry you and bite you and have you bloody as a beef, +but you dassent to hit one of them. They would tell you to stand still +and put your hands over your privates. I don't guess they'd have killed +you but you believed they would. They wouldn't try to keep the hounds +off of you; they would set them on you to see them bite you. Five or six +or seven hounds bitin' you on every side and a man settin' on a horse +holding a doubled shotgun on you. + +"My old miss's sister hired slave women out to old Jim Holbert once. One +of them was in a delicate state, and they dug a hole and put her stomach +down in it and whipped her till she could hardly walk. + +"Holbert lived to see the niggers freed. All of his slaves left him +pretty well when freedom come. He managed to hold on to his money. He +didn't go to the War. He was pretty old. He had two sons in the War--his +wife had one in there and he had one. One of them got wounded but he +didn't die. + +"My mistress's oldest son, Ed Sterling, got shot in the Civil War. He +got shot right in the side at Franklin, Tennessee. It tore his whole +side off--near about killed him. But he lived to ride paterole. He was +mean. Catch a man in bed with his wife at night, he'd whip him and make +him go home. He was the meanest man in the world. All the other sons +were better than he was. His name was Ed Sterling. + +"The first thing I remember was work. You weren't allowed to remember +nothing but work in slave times and you got whipped about that. You +weren't allowed to go nowhere but carry the mules out to the pasture to +eat grass. Sometimes they jump the fence and go over in the field and +eat corn. Me and another fellow named Sandy used to watch them all day +Sunday. Watching the mules and working in the fields through the week +was the first work I remember. Me and my sister worked on one row. The +two of us made a hand. She is down in Texas somewheres now. They taken +her from old lady Sterling's place. She give them to her son and he +carried them down in Texas. He had a broken leg and never did go to the +war. If he did, I never knowed nothing about it. + +"None of the masters never give me anything. None of them as I knows of +never give anything to any of the slaves when they freed 'em. Never give +a devilish thing. Told them that they was free as they was and that they +could stay there and help them make crops if they wanted to. The biggest +part of them stayed. The rest went away. Their husbands taken them away. + +"Right after the war my mother married an old fellow who used to be old +Holbert's nigger driver. He stayed on Sterling's place one night. He +stayed there a year. Then he married my mother and went to old Holbert's +place and of course, we had to go too. I stayed there and worked for +him. And my mama too and the two youngest sisters and the youngest +brother stayed with me. I run away from him in '86. I went down the +railroad about five miles and an old colored fellow give me a job. He +used to belong to the railroad boss. + +"I worked nearly two years on that railroad; then I left and come on +down to Arkansas. I have been right here on this spot about forty years. +I don't know how long it is been since I first come here, but it is been +a long time ago. I paid fire insurance on this place for thirty-nine +years. I lived over the river before I came to North Little Rock. I +worked for the railroad company thirty-eight years. It's been fifteen +years since I was able to work--maybe longer. + +"I belong to Little Bethel Church (A.M.E.) here in North Little Rock. I +been a member of that church more than thirty-five years. + +"I have been married twice, and I am the father of three children that +are living and two that dead--Tommy, Jim, Ewing, Mayzetta, and the baby. +He was too young to have a name when he died. + +"I think things is worse than they ever was. Everything we get we have +to pay for, and then pay for paying for it. If it wasn't for my wife I +could hardly live because I don't get much from the railroad company." + + + + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person Interviewed: Aunt Clara Walker Aged: 111 + Home: "Flatwoods" district, Garland County. Own property. + + +Story by Aunt Clara Walker + +"You'll have to wait a minute ma'am. Dis cornbread can't go down too +fas'. Yes ma'am, I likes cornbread. I eats it every meal. I wouldn't +trade just a little cornbread for all de flour dat is. + +Where-bouts was I born? I was born right here in Arkansas. Dat is it was +between an on de borders of it an dat state to de south--yes ma'am, +dat's right, Louisiana. My mother was a slave before me. She come over +from de old country, she was a-runnin' along one day front of a--a--dat +stripedy animal--a tiger? an' a man come along on an elephant and scoop +her up an' put her on a ship. + +Yes ma'am. My name's Clara Walker. I was born Clara Jones, cause my +pappy's name was Jones. But lots of folks called me Clara Cornelius, +cause Mr. Cornelius was de man what owned me. Did you ever hear of a +child born wid a veil over its face? Well I was one of dem! What it +mean? Why it means dat you can see spirits an' ha'nts, an all de other +creatures nobody else can see. + +Yes ma'am, some children is born dat way. You see dat great grandchild +of mine lyin' on de floor? He's dat way. He kin see 'em too. Is many of +'em around here? Lawsey dey's as thick as piss-ants. What does dey look +like? Some of 'em looks like folks; an' some of 'em looks like hounds. +When dey sees you, dey says "Howdy!" an' if you don't speak to 'em dey +takes you by your shoulders an dey shakes you. Maybe dey hits you on de +back. An' if you go over to de bed an lies in de bed an' goes to sleep, +dey pulls de cover off you. You got to be polite to 'em. What makes 'em +walk around? Well, I got it figgured out dis way. Dey's dissatisfied. +Dey didn't have time to git dey work done while dey was alive. + +Dat greatgrandchild of mine, he kin see 'em too. Now my eight +grandchildren an' my three children what's alivin' none of 'em can see +de spirits. Guess dat greatgrandchild struck way back. I goes way back. +My ol' master what had to go to de war, little 'fore it was over told me +when he left dat I was 39 years old. Somebody figgured it out for me dat +I's 111 now. Dat makes me pretty old, don't it? + +There was another fellow on a joinin' plantation. He was a witch doctor. +Brought him over from Africa. He didn't like his master, 'cause he was +mean. So he make a little man out of mud. An' he stick thorns in its +back. Sure 'nuff, his master got down with a misery in his back. An' de +witch doctor let de thorn stay in de mud-man until he thought his master +had got 'nuff punishment. When he tuck it out, his master got better. + +Did I got to school. No ma'am. Not to book school. Dey wouldn't let +culled folks git no learnin'. When I was a little girl we skip rope an' +play high-spy (I Spy). All we had to do was to sweep de yard an go after +de cows an' de pigs an de sheep. An' dat was fun, cause dey was lots of +us children an we all did it together. + +When I was 13 years old my ol' mistress put me wid a doctor who learned +me how to be a midwife. Dat was cause so many women on de plantation was +catchin' babies. I stayed wid dat doctor, Dr. McGill his name was, for 5 +years. I got to be good. Got so he'd sit down an' I'd do all de work. + +When I come home, I made a lot o' money for old miss. Lots of times, +didn't sleep regular or git my meals on time for three--four days. Cause +when dey call, I always went. Brought as many white as culled children. +I's brought most 200, white an' black since I's been in Hot Springs. +Brought a little white baby--to de Wards it was--dey lived jest down de +lane--brought dat baby 'bout 7 year ago. + +I's brought lots of 'em an' I ain't never lost a case. You know why. +It's cause I used my haid. When I'd go in, I'd take a look at de woman, +an' if it was beyond me, I'd say, 'Dis is a doctor case. Dis ain't no +case for a midwife. You git a doctor.' An' dey'd have to get one. I'd +jes' stan' before de lookin' glass, an' I wouldn't budge. Dey couldn't +make me. + +I made a lot of money for ol' miss. But she was good to me. She give me +lots of good clothes. Those clothes an my mother's clothes burned up in +de fire I had a few years ago right on dis farm. Lawsey I hated loosin' +dose clothes I had when I was a girl more dan anything I lost. An' I +didn't have to work in de fields. In between times I cooked an' I would +jump in de loom. Yes, ma'am I could weave good. Did my yards every day. +I weave cloth for dresses--fine dresses you would use thread as thin as +dat you sews wid today--I weaves cloth for underclothes, an fo +handkerchiefs an for towels. Den I weaves nits and lice. What's +dat--well you see it was kind corse cloth de used for clothes like +overalls. It mas sort of speckeldy all over--dat's why dey called it +nits and lice. + +Law, I used to be good once, but after I got all burned up I wasn't good +for so much. It happened dis way. A salt lick was on a nearby +plantation. Ever body who wanted salt, dey had to send a hand to help +make it. I went over one day--an workin' around I stepped on a live +coal. I move quick an' I fall plum over into a salt vat. Before dey got +me out I was pretty near ruined. + +What did dey do? Dey killed a hog--fresh killed a hog. An' dey fry up de +fat--fry it up wid some of de hog hairs an' dey greesed me good. An' it +took all de fire out of de burns. Dey kept me greezed for a long time. I +was sick nearly six months. Dey was good to me. + +An one day, young miss, she married. Ol' miss give me to her 'long of 23 +others. Twenty four was all she could spare an' keep some for herself an +save enough for de other children. We went to California. Young Miss was +good, but her husband was mean. He give me de only white folks whippin I +ever had. Ol' miss never had to whip her slaves. I was tryin' to cook on +an earth stove--dat's why it happen. Did you ever hear of an earth +stove? Well, dey make sort of drawers out of dirt. You burn wood in 'em. +After you git used to it you kin cook on it good. But dat day I was busy +an' I burned de biscuits. An' he whip me. + +I run off. I knew in general de way home. When I come to de Brazos river +it looked most a mile across. But I jump in an' I swim it. One day I +done found a pearl handled pocket knife. A few days later I meet up wid +a white boy. An' he say its his knife, an' I say, 'White boy, I know dat +ain't your knife, an' you know it ain't. But if you'll write me out a +free pass, I'll give it to you.' An' so he wrote it. After dat, I could +walk right up to de front gates an ask for somthin' to eat. Cause I had +a paper sayin' I was Clara Jones an' I was goin' home to my ol' mistress +Mis' Cornelius. Please paterollers to leave me alone. An' folks along de +way, dey'd take me in an' feed me. Dey'd give me a place to stay an fix +me up a lunch to take along. Dey'd say, "Clara, you's a good nigger. +You's a goin' home to your ol' miss, so we's goin' to do for you." + +An' I got within five miles of home before dey catch me. An' my ol' miss +won't let me go back. She keep me an' send another one in my place. An' +de war kept on, an ol' massa had to go. An' word come dat he been +killed. + +Yes, 'em, some folks run off, an' some of 'em stayed. Finally ol' miss +refugeed a lot of us to California. What is it to refugee. Well, you +see, suppose you was afraid dat somebody go in' to take your property +an' you run 'em away off somewhere--how you come to know. + +When de war was over, young miss she come in an she say, 'Clara, you's +as free as I am.' 'No, I ain't.' says I. 'Yes, you is,' says she. 'What +you goin' to do?' 'I's goin' to stay an' work for you.' says I. 'No' +says she, 'you ain't cause I can't pay you.' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll go +home to see my old mother.' 'Tell you what,' says she, 'I ain't got nuff +money to send you, only part--so you go down to whar' dey is a'pannin' +gold. You kin git a Job at $2.00 per day.' + +Many's a day I've stood in water up to my waist pannin' gold. In dem +days dey worked women jest like men. I worked hard, an' young miss took +care of me. When I got ready to come home I bought my stage fare an' I +carried $300 on me back to my ol' mother. + +De trip took six weeks. Everywhere de stage would stop young miss had +writ a note to somebody and de stage coach men give it to 'em an dey +took care of me--good care. + +When I got home to my mother I found dat ol' miss had give all of 'em +somthin' along with settin 'em free. My mother had 12 children so she +git de mos'. She git a horse, a milk cow, 8 killin' hogs and 50 bushels +of corn. She moved off to a little house on ol' miss's plantation and +make a crop on halvers. She stay on dar for three--four years. Den she +move off into another county where she could go to meetin without havin' +to cross de river. An' I stayed on wid her an help her farm--I could +plow as good as a man in dem days. + +Finally I hear dat you could make more money in Hot Springs, so I come +to see. My mother was dead by dat time. De first year I made a crop for +Mr. Clay--my granddaughter cooks and tends to children for some of his +folks today. When I went to town an I washed at de Arlington hotel. It +wasn't de fine place it is today. It was jest boards like dis cabin of +mine. An I washed at another hotel--what was it--down across de creek +from de Arlington. Yes ma'am, dat's it. De Grand Central--it was grand +too--for dem days. An' I cooked for Dr. McMasters. An' I cooked for +Colonel Rector--de Rectors had lots of money in dem days. I could make a +weddin' cake good as anybody--with, a 'gagement ring in it. I could make +it fine--tho I don't know but two letters in de book an' thoses is A and +B. + +I married Mr. Walker. He was a hod carrier when dey built de old red +brick Arlington. I remember lots of things dat happened here. I remember +seein' de smoke from de fire--dat big one. We was a livin' near Picket +Springs--you don't know whare dat is. Well, does you know where de +soldier's breast work was--now I git you on to remembering. + +Den, later on we moved out an' got a farm near Hawes. I traded dat place +for dis one. Yes, ma'am I likes livin' in de country. Never did like +livin' in town. + +I don't right know whether culled folks wanted to be free or not. Lots +of 'em didn't rightly understand, Ol' miss was good to hers. Some of 'em +wasn't. She give 'em things before an she give 'em things after. Of +course, we went back an' we washed for 'em. But one mortal blessin. Ol' +miss had made her girls learn how to cook an' wait on themselves. + +Now take de Combinders. Dey was on de next plantation. Dey was mean. +Many a time you could hear de bull whip, clear over to our place, PLOP, +PLOP. An' if dey died, dey jest wrapped 'em in cloth an' dig a trench, +an' plow right over 'em. An' when de war was over, dey wouldn't turn dey +slaves loose. An de Federals marched in an' marched 'em off. An' ol' +Mis' Combinder she holler out an she say, 'What my girls goin' to do? +Dey ain't never dressed deyselves in dey life. We can't cook? What we +do?' An' de soldiers didn't pay no attention. Dey just marched 'em off. + +An' ol' man Combinder he lay down an' he have a chill an' he die. He die +because day take his property away from him. + +Yes, ma'am, Thank you for the quarter. I's goin' to buy snuff. I gets +along good. My grandson he hauls wood for de paper mill. An' my +granddaughters dey works for folks cooks an takes care of children. I +had a good crop dis year. I'll have meat, I got lots of corn, an' I got +other crops. We're gettin' along nice, mighty nice. Thank you ma'am." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Henry Walker, Hazen, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +I was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. The first I ever +knowed or heard of a war, I saw a lot of the funniest wagons coming up +to the house from the road. I called the old mistress. She looked out +the window and pushed me back up in the corner and shot the door. She +was so scared. I thought them things they had on their coats (buttons) +was pretty. I found out they was brass buttons. I peeped out a crack it +was already closed 'cept a big crack, I seed through. Well, the wagons +was high in front and high in the back and sunk in the middle. Had pens +in the wheels instead of axels. Wagon had a box instead of a bed. The +wagons would hold a crib full of corn. They loaded up everything on the +place there was to eat and carried it off. My folks and the other folks +was in the field. Colored folks didn't like 'em taking all they had to +eat and had stored up to live on. They didn't leave a hog nor a chicken, +nor anything else they could find. They drove off all the cows and +calves they could find. Colonel Sam Williams, the old master, soon did +go to war then. The folks had a hard time making a living. Old mistress +had four girls and her baby Ed was one day older than I was. The +children of the hands played around in the woods and every place and +stayed in the field if they was big enough to do any work. Old mistress +had all the children pick up scaley barks and hickory nuts and chestnuts +and walnuts. She put them in barrels. She sold some of them. She had a +heap of sugar maple trees. They put an elder funnel to run the sap in +buckets. We carried that and she boiled it down to brown sugar. She had +up pick up chips to burn when she simmered it down or made soap. She +kept all the children hunting ginsing up in the mountains. She kept it +in sacks. A man come by and buy it. We hunted chenqupins down in the +swamps. There was lots of walnut trees in the woods. + +No the slaves didn't leave Colonel Williams. He left them. He brought me +and Ed and we went back and moved to the old Williams farm on Arkansas +River close to Little Rock. Then he sent for my folks. They come in +wagons. They worked for him a long time and scattered about. I stayed at +his house till he said "Henry, you are grown; you better look out for +yourself now." Ed was gone. He sent all the girls off to school and Ed +too. They taught me if I wanted to learn but I didn't care much about +it. I went to the colored school and Ed to the white school. He learned +pretty well. I never did like to 'sociate or stay 'bout colored folks +and I didn't like to mind 'em. Old mistress show did brush me out +sometimes and they called my mother to tend to me. When I was real +little they drove the hands to the block to be sold out along the road. +Old mistress say: "If you don't be good and mind we'll send yare off and +sell you wid 'em." That scared me worse than a whooping. Never did see +anybody sold. Heard them talk a heap about it. When one of them wouldn't +work and lay out in the woods, or they wouldn't mind they soon got sold +off. They mated a heap of them and sold them for speculation. No mam I +didn't like slavery. We had plenty to eat but they worked for all they +got. Had good fires and good warm houses and good clothes but I did not +like the way they give out the provisions. They blowed a horn and +measured out the weeks paratta for every family. They cooked at the +cabins for their own families. There was several springs and a deep rock +walled well at old mistress' house. Old mistress always lived in a fine +house. I slept at my mother's house nearly all the time. She had a big +family. White folks raised me up to play with Ed till I thought I was +white. They taught me to do right and I ain't forgot it. I never was +arrested. I married three times, bought three marriage license all in +Prairie County. All three wives died. + +I owns dis house 'cept a mortgage of $50. One of my boys got in a +difficulty. I don't know where he is to get him to pay it off. The other +boy he's not man enough either to pay it off. + +I never did know jess when the Civil War did close. I kept hearing 'em +say we are free. I didn't see much difference only when Colonel Williams +come back times wasn't so hard. Then he sold out and come to Arkansas. +Then each family raised his own hogs and chickens and finally got to +have cows. + +I was as scared of the Ku Klux Klan as of rattlesnakes. In Tennessee +they come up the road and back just after dark. They rode all night and +if you wasn't on your master's own land and didn't have a pass from him +or the overseer they would set the dogs on you and run you home. +Sometimes they would whip them. Take them home to the old master. I +never heard of no uprisings. People loved each other better then than +now. They didn't have so much idle time. There was always some work to +be doing. When they didn't mind they run them with dogs and whipped +them. The overseer and paddyrollers seed about that. The first day of +the year everybody went up to hear the rules and see who was to be the +overseer. Then they knowed what to do for the year. They never did kill +nobody. No mam that was too costly. They had work according to their +strength and age. The Ku Klux was to keep order. + +I been living in Hazen forty or fifty years. All I ever have done was +farm sometimes one-half-for-the-other and sometimes on share-crop. + +I have voted but not lately. I votes a Republican ticket. I votes that +way because it was the Republicans that set us free, I always heard it +said. I jess belongs to that party. Seems lack we gets easier times when +the Democrats reign. Colonel Williams was a Democrat. + +The young folks are not as well off as I was at their age. They are +restless and won't work unless they gets big pay and they spends the +money too easy. The colored people are too idle and orderless. They +fight and hate one another and roam around in too much confusion. + +I gets from $3 to $8 last month from the Sociable Welfare. My children +helps me mighty little. They got their own children to see after and +don't make much. + +Colonel Williams and Ed are both dead. They did give me a lot of fine +clothes when I went to see them as long as they lived. I don't know +where the girls hab gone. Scattered around. I oughter never left my good +old home and white folks. They was show always mighty good to me. + +I never could sing much. I used to give the Rebbel Yell. Colonel Yopp +give me a dime every time I give it. Since he died I ain't yelled it no +more. I learned it from Colonel Williams. I jess took it up hearing him +about the place. + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson +Subject: Ex-Slave-Hunting +Story:--Information + +This information given by: Henry Walker +Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas +Occupation: Farmer. +Age: 78 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +Henry Walker was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. +Remembered the soldiers and ran to the windows to see them pass. One day +he saw a lot of soldiers coming to the house. Henry ran in ahead and +said out loud, "them Yankeys are coming up here." The mistress slapped +Henry, hid him and slammed the doors. The soldiers did not get in but +they did other damage that day. They took all the mules out of the lot +and drove them away. They filled their "dugout wagons" with corn. A +dugout wagon would hold nearly a crib full of corn. They were high in +front and back and came down to a point, nearly touched the ground +between the wheels. The wheels had pens instead of axles in them. + +The children ran like pigs every morning. The pigs ran to eat acorns and +the children--white and black--to pick up chestnuts, scaly barks and +hickory nuts. There were _lots_ of black walnuts. "We had barrels of +nuts to eat all winter and the mistress sold some every year at +Nashville, Tennessee. The woods were full of nut trees and we had a few +maple and sweet gum trees. We simmered down maple sap for brown sugar +and chewed the sweet gum. We picked up chips to simmer the sweet maple +sap down. We used elder tree wood to make faucets for syrup barrels. +There were chenquipins down in the swamps that the children gathered." + +Henry Walker said that they were sent upon the hills to find ginsing and +often found long beds of it. They put it in sacks and a man came and +bought it from the mistress. The mistress' name was Mrs. Williams. She +kept the money for the ginsing and nuts too when she sold them. + +Henry said he ate at Mrs. Williams', but the other children ate at the +cabin. On Saturday evening the horn would sound and every slave would +come to get his allowance of provisions. They used a big bell hung up in +a tree to call them to meals and to begin work. They could also hear +other farm bells and horns. Colored folks could have dances if they +would get permission. Some masters were overseers themselves and some +hired overseers. Patty Rell was a white man and the bush-wackers give us +trouble sometimes. + +On January first every year everybody ate peas and "hog jole" and +received the new rules. The masters would say, "don't be running up here +telling me on the overseer." They had a bush harbor church and the white +preacher came to preach to black and white sometimes. They taught +obedience and the Golden Rules. No schools--Henry said since freedom the +white men had cheated him out of all he had ever made, with pen-and-ink. +He rather be whipped with a stick than a writing pen. He said Mr. and +Mrs. Williams were good people. Henry learned to knit his socks and +gloves at night watching the grown people. They made a certain number of +broches every night. He liked that. + +Henry said Mr. Williams let him carry his gun hunting with him and +taught him how to shoot squirrels. They were plentiful. He had a lot of +dogs. The master went to the deer stand and Henry managed the twelve +hounds. He didn't like to fox hunt. About a hundred men and thirty dogs, +horns, etc. out for the chase. They came from Nashville and in the +country. A fox make three rounds from where he is jumped and then widens +out. They brought "fine whiskey" out on the chases. + +When they had corn shuckings one Negro would sit on the fence and lead +the singing, the others shuck on each side. The master would pour out a +tin cup full of whiskey from a big jug for each corn shucker, and Mrs. +Williams would give each a square of gingerbread. + +Mr. Williams set aside a certain number of acres of land every year to +be cleared, fenced and broke for cultivation by spring. Six or eight men +worked together. They used tong-hand sticks to carry the logs to the +piles where they were burning them. A saw was a side show, they used +mall, axe and wedge. After the log rolling there would be a big supper +and a good one. The visitors got what they wanted from the table first. +"That was manners." + +"We took turns going to the Methodist church at Nashville with Mr. and +Mrs. Williams. They went in the fine carriage and the maid held the baby +but anybody else rode along behind on horseback. The carriage horses +were curried every day, kept up and ate corn and fodder. Mr. and Mrs. +Williams came to Nashville to big weddings and dances often." + +After Henry Walker came to Hazen, Colonel Yopp had him feed his dogs and +attend him on big fox hunting trips. Since Colonel Yopp died January +1928 Henry seldom, or perhaps has never sung the song he sang to Colonel +for dimes if he needed a little change. He learned the song and whoop +back in in slavery days. He said William Dorch (colored boy) took it up +from hearing him sing for Colonel Yopp and would write it for me and +sing it and give it with the old Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee whoop. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Jake Walker + 3002 Short W. Ninth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 95 + + +"Well, I was here--I was born in 1842, August the 4th. That makes me +ninety-five in the clear. If I live till next August I'll be ninety-six. + +"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas, I was born in Alabama. I been here +in Arkansas bout forty or fifty years. I used to live in Mississippi +when I first left the old country. + +"Oh yes'm, I was bout big enough to go durin' the War, but I wouldn't +run off. Couldn't a had no better master. That's the reason I'm livin' +like I do. Always took good care of myself. Never had no exposure. + +"I _did_ work fore the War, I'll say! Done anything they said. + +"John Carmichael was my old master and Miss Nancy was old missis. + +"Oh yes ma'am, I seed the Yankees. They stopped there. I wasn't askeered +of nobody. I have went to the well and drawed water for em. + +"I member when the War was gwine on. I didn't know why they was +fightin'. If I did I done forgot--I'll be honest with you. I didn't know +nothin' only they was fightin'. Most of my work was around the house. I +never paid no tention to that war. I was livin' too fine them days. I +was livin' a hundred days to the week. Yes ma'am, I did get along fine. + +"Oh yes ma'am, I had good white folks. I never was sold. No ma'am, I +born right on the old home place. + +"Patrollers? Had to get a pass from your master to go over there. Oh +yes, I know all about them. I have seed the Ku Klux too. Yes ma'am, I +know all about them things. + +"I never been to school but half a day. I went to work when I was eight +years old and been workin' ever since. + +"My father died in slave times and my mother died the fourth year after +surrender. + +"After freedom, I worked there bout the course of three or four years. +Then I emigrated and come on to Mississippi. The most I done them times +was farmin'. Reckon I stayed in Mississippi five or six years. + +"The most work I done here in Arkansas is carpenter work. I'm the first +colored man ever contracted in Pine Bluff. + +"If I wasn't able to work, I don't think I'd stay here long. + +"Used to drive the mule in the gin in slave times. + +"We didn't have a bit of expense on us. Our doctor bills was paid and +had clothes give to us and had plenty of something to eat. + +"Yes'm, I used to vote but it's been for years since I voted. Voted +Republican. I don't know why the colored people is Republican. You +askin' me something now I don't know nothin' about, but I believe in +votin' for the man goin' to do good--do the country good. + +"Oh, don't talk about the younger generation--I jist can't accomplish +em, I sure can't. They ain't got the 'regenious' and get-up about em +they had in my time. They is more wiser, that's about all. The young +race these days--I don't know what's gwine come of em. If twasn't for we +old fogies, don't know what they'd do. + +"We ain't never had that World War yet told about in the Bible. Called +this last war the World War but twasn't. + +"I've always tried to keep my place and I ain't never been in any kind +of trouble." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Jake Walker, Wheatley, Arkansas +Age: 68 + + +"I was born seven or eight miles from Hernando, Mississippi. My pa was a +slave over twenty years. He belong to Master Will Walker, and his white +mistress was Ann. They brought him from 'round Athens, Georgia. He was +heired through his master. His own mother died at his birth and he was +the son of a peddler through the country. He was a furriner but pa never +could tell. His young master never told him. His ma was the nurse about +the place. The peddler was a white man of some kind. He kept coming +about selling goods. The dogs made a bad racket. They never bought +nothing much. Old master suspicioned him trying to get away with +something about the place. He come right out and accused him to being up +to something. He denied it. He told the peddler not to come back. He +never. After it was over she told her mistress. He wanted her to go on +off with him. That made them mad. But he never was seen about there. + +"When Will Walker got married he wanted my pa and he was give to him, a +horse and buggy, two mules, a lamb, and five young cows. He had some +money and he come to Mississippi. I reckon he did buy some land. He got +to be a slave owner before freedom. Pa said he drove the horse to the +buggy and his master rode a mule, led a mule and brought his cows, and +they kept the lamb in the buggy with them nearly all the way. + +"I think they was good to him. His young mistress cried so much they all +went back once before freedom. They went on Christmas time. Only time he +ever was drunk. He got down and nearly froze to death. The white folks +heard he was somewhere down. They went and got him one Sunday morning in +a two-horse wagon. He was nearly dead. That was his first and last +spree. + +"Pa said he nursed three of his young mistress' babies, Alfred, Tom, and +Kenneth. + +"After freedom pa went to Texas with Alfred Walker. He owned a ranch out +on the desert and raised Texas ponies and big horn cows. They sent a +carload of young cattle to St. Louis and pa stopped back in Mississippi +and married ma. She was a Walker too, Libbie Walker. There was fourteen +of us children. They nearly all went to Louisiana to work in the timber. +I come to Clarendon. I been married three times. My last wife left me +and took my onliest child. Only child I ever had. They was at Hot +Springs last account I had of them. She was cooking for a woman over +there. My girl is up 'bout grown now. She come to Clarendon to see me +three years ago. I sent for her but she wouldn't stay. She writes to me, +but I have to get somebody to write for me and somebody to read her +letters. I can read print real good. I never went to school a day in my +whole life. We had to work early and late when I come up. + +"I farmed, sawmilled, worked in the timber. I do public work, haul wood, +cut wood, and work in the field by day labor. + +"I votes a Republican ticket. I haven't voted since Mr. Taft run. I +don't have no way to keep up with elections now. Folks used to talk +more, now they keeps quiet. + +"I never heard pa say how he come to know about freedom. Ma said she was +refugeed to Texas and when they brung them back, Master Will Walker met +them at the creek on his place and he said, 'You all are free now. You +can go on my place or hunt other places.' They went on his place and +they lived there a long time. I don't remember ever living on that +place. Pa wasn't there then. I don't know where be could been. Ma and pa +was both Walkers but no blood kin. Ma didn't talk much about old times. +She was sold once, she said. Bass Kelly bought her. I don't know if Will +Walker traded for her. She never did say. Bass Kelly was mean to her. He +beat her and one time she hid and kept hid till she nearly starved, she +said. She hid in the corn crib. It was a log house. She didn't enjoy +slavery. Pa had a very good time, better than us boys had it when we +come up. He worked and kept us with him. He and ma died the same week. +They had pneumonia in Mississippi. + +"I got one sister. She lives close to Shreveport. She keeps up with us +all. I go down there every now and then. She's not stove up like I am. +She wants me to stay with her all the time. I gets work down there +easier but I have the rheumatism bad down there. + +"I don't know what will become of young folks. I wish I had their +chance. They can't wait for nothing. They in too big a hurry for the +crop to grow. Busy living by the day. When the year gone they ain't no +better off. Times is good in places. Hard in places. Times better in +Louisiana than up here. Work easier to get. Folks got more living. + +"I'm chopping cotton on Mr. Hill's place. I gets ninety cents a day. I +can't get over the ground fast." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Willie Wallace + 40th and Georgia Streets, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was born in Green County, Alabama. Elihu Steele was my old master. +Miss Julia was old missis. She was Elihu's wife. Her mother's name was +Penny Hatter. Miss Penny give my mother to her daughter Julia. + +"I was a twin and they choosed us for the cook and washer and ironer, +but surrender come along 'fore we got big enough to do anything. + +"My father was crippled and couldn't work in the field, and I remember +he used to carry the children out to the field to be suckled. + +"They had a right smart of slaves. My mother had twelve children and I'm +the baby. + +"I remember they'd make up a big pot of corn bread and pot-liquor and +they'd say, 'Eat, chillun, eat.' + +"I remember one time the white folks had some stock tied out, and I know +my sister's little boy didn't know no better and he showed the Yankees +where they was. + +"I remember when they said the people was free, but our folks stayed +right on there--I don't know how many years--'cause my mother thought a +heap of her old missis, Penny. + +"I went to school after freedom and learned how to read and write and +figger. I worked in the field till I got disabled. I never did wash and +iron and cook for the white folks. + +"I was fifteen--somewhere in there--when I married and I'm the mother of +twelve children. + +"I have lived in Thomas, West Virginia; Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; +Cumberland, Maryland; Milliken, Louisiana; and Birmingham, Alabama. I +just lived in all them places following my children around. + +"I fell through a trestle in Birmingham and injured myself comin' from +church. + +"I think the people is gettin' terrible now. You think they're gettin' +better? I think they're gettin' wuss. + +"I got a book here called 'Uncle Tom' and I hates to read it sometimes +'cause the people suffered so. + +"I don't think old master had any overseers. Miss Julia wouldn't 'low +any of her people to be beat." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Evans Warrior + 609 E. 23rd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was born here in Arkansas in Dallas County. I don't know zackly what +year but I was bout five when they drove us to Texas. Stayed there three +years till the war ceasted. + +"Old master's name was Nat Smith. He was good to me. I was big enough to +plow same year the war ceasted. + +"Yankees come through Texas after peace was 'clared. They'd come by and +ask my mother for bread. She was the cook. + +"We left Arkansas 'fore the war got busy. Everything was pretty ragged +after we got back. White folks was here but colored folks was scattered. +My folks come back and went to their native home in Dallas County. + +"Never did nothin' but farm work. Worked on the shares till I got able +to rent. Paid five or six dollars a acre. Made some money. + +"I heered of the Ku Klux. Some of em come through the Clemmons place and +put notice on the doors. Say VACATE. All the women folks got in one +house. Then the boss man come down and say there wasn't nothin' to it. +Boss man didn't want em there. + +"I went to school a little. Kep' me in the field all the tims. Didn't +get fur enuf to read and write. + +"Yes'm, I voted. Voted the Republican ticket. That's what they give me +to vote. I couldn't read so I'd tell em who I wanted to vote for and +they'd put it down. Some of my friends was justice of the peace and +constables. + +"I been in Pine Bluff bout four years--till I got disabled to work. + +"I been married five times. All dead but two. Don't know how many +chillun we had--have to go back and study over it. + +"Some of the younger generation is out of reason. Ain't strict on +chillun now like the old folks was." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Anna Washington, Clarendon, Arkansas + (Back of Mrs. Maynard's home in the alley) +Age: 77 + + +"I've forgot who my mother's owner was. She was born in Virginia. She +was put on a block and sold. She was fifteen years old and she never +seen her mother again after she left her. Her master was George +Birdsong. He bought my papa too. They was onliest two he owned. He +wanted them both light so the children would be light for house girls +and waiting boys. Light colored folks sold for more money on the block. + +"The boss man over grandpa and grandma in Virginia was John Glover. But +he was not their owner. My grandpa was about white. He said his owners +was good to him but now grandma had a pided back where she had been +whooped. Grandpa come down from the Washington slaves so my papa said. +That is the reason I holds to his name and my boy holds to it. Papa said +he had to plough and clean up new ground for Master Birdsong. He was a +young man starting out and papa and mama was young too. + +(She left and came back with some old scraps of yellow and torn papers +dimly written all over: Anna Washington, born 1860 at Hines County at +Big Rock. Mother born at Capier County. Father born at White County, +Virginia--ed.) + +"This is what was told to me by my papa: His grandmother was born of +George Washington's housemaid. That was one hundred forty years ago. His +papa was educated under a fine mechanic and he help build the old +State-house at Washington. Major Rousy Paten was the Washington nigger +'ministrator. + +"I had a sister named Martha Curtis after his young wife. I had a +brother named Housy Patton. They are both dead now. Pa lived to be +ninety-eight years old. My mama was as white as you is but she was a +nigger woman. Pa was lighter than I is now. I'm getting darker 'cause +I'm getting old. My pa was named Benjamin Washington. + +"I heard my pa talk about Nat Turner. (She knew who he was o.k.--ed.) He +got up a rebellion of black folk back in Virginia. I heard my pa sit and +tell about him. Moses Kinnel was a rich white man wouldn't sell Nellie +'cause of what his wife said. She was a housemaid. He wrote own free +pass book and took her to Maryland. Father's father wanted to buy Nellie +but her owner wouldn't sell her. He took her. + +"My mother had fourteen children. We and Archie was the youngest. + +"Moses Kinnel was a rich white man and had lots of servants. He promised +never to sell Nellie and keep her to raise his white children. She was +his maid. He promised that her dying bed. But father's father stole her +and took her to Maryland. + +"Pa run away and was sold twice or more. When he was small chile his +mother done fine washing. She seat him to go fetch her some fine laundry +soap what they bought in the towns. Two white men in a two-wheel open +buggy say, 'Hey, don't you want to ride?' 'I ain't got time.' 'Get in +buggy, we'll take you a little piece.' One jumped out and tied his hands +together. They sold him. They let him go to nigger traders. They had him +at a doctor's examining his fine head see what he could stand. The +doctor say, 'He is a fine man. Could trust him with silver and gold--his +weight in it.' They brung him to Mississippi and sold him for a big +price. He had these papers the doctor wrote on him to show. + +"Then he sent for my mama after they sat him free. His name was Ben +Washington. + +"He never spoke much of freedom. He said his master in Mississippi told +them and had them sign up contracts to finish that year's crop. He took +back his old Virginia name and I don't recollect that master's name. +Heard it too. Yes ma'am, heap er times. My recollection is purty nigh +gone. + +"I don't get no younger in feelings 'cause I'm getting old." + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: S.S. Taylor +Subject: Slave memories--Birth, Mother, Father, Separation House +Subject: Slaves--Dwellings, Food, Clothes +Subject: Corn Shucking, Dances, Quiltings, Weddings among Slaves +Subject: Slaves--Fight with Master (junior); Slave uprisings +Subject: Confederate Army Negroes; Ex-slave Occupations +Story:--Information +[TR: Topics moved from subsequent pages.] + +This information given by: Eliza Washington +Place of Residence: 1517 West Seventeenth + Little Rock, Arkansas +Occupation: Washing and Ironing (When able) +Age: About 77 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +The first thing I remember was living with my mother about six miles +from Scott's Crossing in Arkansas, about the year 1866. I know it was +1866 because it was the year after the surrender, and we know the +surrender was in 1865. I know the dates after 1866. You don't know +nothin' when you don't know dates. If you get up in court and say +somethin', the lawyers ask you when it happened and then they ask you +where did it happen, and if you can't tell them, they say "Witness is +excused. You don't know nothin'." + + +Mother and Father + +My mother was born in North Carolina in Mecklinberg in Henderson County. +I don't know when she came to Arkansas, and I don't know when she went +to Tennessee. + +My father was born in Tennessee. I don't know the county like I did in +North Carolina. I don't know the town either, but I think it was in the +rurals somewhere. The white folks separated my mother and father when I +was a little baby in their arms. The people to whom my father belonged +stayed in Tennessee, but my mother's people came to Arkansas. It must +have been along in the time of the war that they come to Arkansas. + + +Dwelling + +My mother lived in a log house chinked with wood chinks. The chinks +looked like gluts. You know what a glut is? No? Well a glut looks like +the pattern of a shoe. They lay the logs together, and then chink up the +cracks with wood blocks made up like the pattern of a shoe. These were +chinks, wooden things about a foot long, shaped like a wedge. They were +used for chinking. After the logs were laid together, chinks would be +needed to stop up the holes between the logs. After the chinking was +finished, clay was stuffed in to stop up the cracks and make the house +warm. I've seen a many a one built. + +Wide planks were used for the floors. The doors were hung on wooden +hinges. The doors were never locked. They didn't have any looks on them. +You could bar them on the inside if you wanted to. They didn't have no +fear of burglars in them days. People wasn't bad then as they is now. +They had just one window and one door in the house. The chimney was +built up like a ladder and clay and straw was stuffed in the framework. + +I have seen such houses built right down here in Scott's. My mother was +a field hand. She lived in such a house in Tennessee. There wasn't no +brick about the house, not even in the chimney. In later years, they +have covered up all those logs with weather boards and made the houses +look like what they call "modern", but theyr'e the same old log houses. + + +Food + +My mother said her white folks fed her well. She had whatever they had. +When she came to Arkansas, they issued rations, but she never was issued +rations before. When they issued rations, they gave them so much food +each week--so much corn meal, so much potatoes, so much cabbage, so much +molasses, so much meat--mostly rubbish-like food. We went out in the +garden and dug the potatoes and got the cabbage. + +But in Tennessee, my mother got what ever she wanted whenever she wanted +it. If she wanted salt, she went and got it. If she wanted meat, she +went to the smokehouse and got it. Whatever she wanted, she went and got +it, and they didn't have no times for issuing out. + + +Social Affairs--Corn Shuckings, Quiltings and Dances + +The biggest time I remember on the plantations was corn shucking time. +Plenty of corn was brought in from the cribs and strowed along where +everybody could get to it freely. Then they would all get corn and shuck +it until near time to quit. The corn shucking was always at night, and +only as much corn as they thought would be shucked was brought from the +cribs. Just before they got through, they would begin to sing. Some of +the songs were pitiful and sad. I can't remember any of them, but I can +remember that they were sad. One of them began like this: + + "The speculator bought my wife and child + And carried her clear away." + +When they got through shucking, they would hunt up the boss. He would +run away and hide just before. If they found him, two big men would take +him up on their shoulders and carry him all around the grounds while +they sang. My mother told me that they used to do it that way in slave +time. + + +Dances + +They didn't dance then like they do now all hugged up and indecent. In +them days, they danced what you call square dances. They don't do those +dances now, they're too decent. There were eight on a set. I used to +dance those myself. + + +Quiltings + +I heard mother say she went to a lot of quiltings. I suppose they had +them much the same as they do now. Everybody took a part of the quilt to +finish. They talked and sang and had a good time. And they had somethin' +to eat at the close just as they did in the corn shucking. I never went +to a quilting. + + +Worship + +Some of the Niggers went to church then just as they do now, and some of +them weren't allowed to go. + +Reverend Winfield used to preach to the colored people that if they +would be good niggers and not steal their master's eggs and chickens and +things, that they might go to the kitchen of heaven when they died. + +An old lady once said to me, "I would give anything if I could have +Maria in heaven with me to do little things for me." My mother told me +that the niggers had to turn the pots down to keep their voices from +sounding when they were praying at night. And they couldn't sing at all. + + +Weddings + +I can remember that they used to have weddings when I was a child around +the years 1867 and 1868. My mother told me of marriages and weddings. +She never saw no paint on anybody's face. They used to have powder, but +they never used any paint. Girls were better then than they are now. + + +Fight with Master + +My mother's first master was named Rasly, and her second was named +Neely. She and her young master, John McNeely, who was raised with her +and who was about the same age as she was, got to fighting one day and +she whipped him clear as a whistle. After she whipped him that fight +went all over the country. She was between sixteen and seventeen years +old an he was about the same. She had never been whipped by the white +folks. + +She was in the kitchen. I don't know what the trouble started over. But +they had an argument. There were some other white boys in the kitchen +with her young master, and they kept pushing the two of them up to +fight. He wanted to show off; so he told her what he would do to her if +she didn't hush her mouth. She told him to just try it, and the fight +was on. So they fought for about an hour, and the other white boys egged +them on. + +She said that her old master never did whip her, and she sure wasn't +going to let the young one do it. I never heard that they punished her +for whipping her young master. I never heard her say that anybody tried +to whip her at any other time. My mother was a strong woman. She could +lift one end of a log with any man. + + +Slave Uprisings + +My mother used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, (That +was about the time that the stars fell, and the stars fell in 1833 +[HW:*]. So she must have been born in 1819. In 1833, she was sold for a +fourteen year old girl. That was the only time that she ever was sold. +That left her about eighty-three years old when she died in 1903.) She +used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, and was living +in North Carolina in Mecklinburg Co, in Henderson County, that the white +folks called all the slaves up to the big house and kept them there a +few days. There wasn't no trouble on my mother's place, but they had +heard that there was an uprising among the slaves, and they called all +the Niggers up to the house. They didn't do nothin' to them. They just +called them up to the house, and kept them there. It all passed over +soon. I don't know nothin' else about it. + + +Confederate Army Negroes + +I've "heered" old Brother Zachary who used to belong to Bethel Church +tell about the surrender. Brother Zachary is dead now. He was a soldier +In the Confederate army. He fought all through the war and he used to +tell lots of stories about it. + +You know, Lee was a tall man, fine looking and dignified. Grant was a +little man and short. Those two generals walked up to each other with a +white flag in their hands. And they talked and agreed just when they +would fight. And then they both went back to their armies, and they +fought the awfulest battle you ever "heered" of. The men lay dead in +rows and rows and rows. The dead men covered whole fields. And General +Lee said that there wasn't any use doing any more fighting. General +Grant let all the rebels keep their guns. He didn't take nothin' away +from them. + +I saw General Grant when he came to Little Rock. There was an old white +man who had never been to Little Rock in his life. He said "I just had +to come up here to see this great general that they are talking about." + + +Occupations + +We always worked in the field in slave time. I don't know nothin about +share cropping because I always did days work. I used to get four and +five dollars a week for washing. But now they wants the young folks and +they don't pay them five dollars for everything. I can't get a pension. +Why you reckon they won't give me one. They don't understand that that +little house I own doesn't even keep itself up. My daughter-in-law is +good to me but she needs everything she makes. I can't get much to do +now, and what little I gets, they don't pay me much for. + +I don' remember nothin' else. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Jennie Washington, DeValls Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"My mother was a slave and my father too I recken. They belonged to Jack +Walton when I remembered. I was born at St. Charles. My mother died in +time of the war at St. Louis. This is whut I remembers. My mother was +sold twice. The Prices owned her and the Wakefields owned her before she +was owned by old Jack Walton. I was the youngest child. I had one +brother went to war and he drawed a pension long as he lived. We +children all got scattered out. Mr. Walton bout the age of my father and +he said some day all these niggers be set free and warnt long fore they +sho was. I had one older sister I recollect mighty well. My mother named +Fannie, my father named Abe Walton. He had a young master James Walton. + +"When I was nuthin but a chile I remembers James dressed up like Ku Klux +Klan and scared me. The old master sho did whoop him bout that. They +take care of the little black children and feed em good an don't let em +do too hard er work to stunt em so they take em off and sell em for a +good price. + +"I remembers the little old log house my granma and granpa way back over +on the place stayed in till they died. We went back after the war and +lived ten years on the same place. We lived close to the white folks in +a bigger house. + +"I don't recollect no big change after freedom cept they quit selling +and working folks without giving them money. I was too small to notice +much change then I speck. Times has always been tight wid me. I ain't +never had very much. I did work an a livin is all I ever got out of it. +Never could make enough to get ahead. + +"The white folks never give the darky nothing when freedom declared. We +used to raise tobacco and sell it to smoke and make snuff. And he had em +make ax handles to sell on the side for money till the crops gathered. + +"If you believe in the Bible you won't believe in women votin' I never +did vote. I ain't goner never vote. + +"The present condition is fine. Mrs. Robinson carries a great big truck +load to her farm every day to pick cotton. She sent word up here she +take anybody whut wanter work. I wish I was able to go. I loves to pick +cotton. She pay em seventy-five cents a hundred. She'll pay em too! I +don't know what they do this winter. Set by the fire I recken. But next +spring she'll let hoe that crop. She took em this past year to hoe out +that very cotton they pickin now. Her husband, he's sick. He keeps their +store up town. She takes a few white hands too if they wanter work. I +don't think the present generation no worse en they ever been. They +drawed up closer together than they used to be. They buys everything now +an they don't raise nuthin. It's the Bible fulfillin. Everything so high +they caint save nuthin! + +"I married twice. First time in the church, other time at home. I had +four children. I had two in Detroit. I don't know where my son is. He +may be there yet. My daughter there got fourteen children her own. I +don't know where the others are. Nom [HW: long "o" diacritical] they +don't help me a bit, do well helpin theirselves. I gets the Welfare +sistance and I works my garden back here." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Parrish Washington + 812 Spruce Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 86 + + +"I was born in 1852--born in Arkansas. Sam Warren was my old master. + +"I remember some of the Rebel generals--General Price and General +Marmaduke. + +"We had started to Texas but the Yankees got in ahead of us in the +Saline bottoms and we couldn't go no further. + +"My boss had so much faith in his own folks he wouldn't leave here 'til +it was too late. He left home on Saturday night and got into the bottoms +on Sunday and made camp. Then the Yankees got in ahead of him and he +couldn't go no further, so we come back to Jefferson County. + +"The Yankees had done took Little Rock and come down to Pine Bluff. + +"My father died in 1860 and my mother in 1865. + +"I can remember when they whipped the slaves. Never whipped me +though--they was just trainin' me up. + +"Had an old lady on the place cooked for the children and we just got +what we could. + +"I remember when peace was declared, the people shouted and rejoiced--a +heavy load had fell off. + +"All the old hands stayed on the place. I stayed there with my uncle and +aunt. We was treated better then. I was about 25 years old when I left +there. + +"I farmed 'til '87. Then I joined the Conference and preached nearly +forty years when I was superannuated. + +"I remember when the Rebels was camped up there on my boss's place. I +used to love to see the soldiers. Used to see the horses hitched to the +artillery. + +"Two or three of Sam Warren's hands run off and joined the Yankees. They +didn't know what it was goin' to be and two of 'em come back--stayed +there too. + +"I used to vote the Republican ticket. I was justice of the peace four +years--two terms. + +"I went to school here in Pine Bluff about two or three terms and I was +school director in district number two about six or seven years. + +"I have great hope for the young people of the future. 'Course some of +'em are not worth killin' but the better class--I think there is a +bright future for 'em. + +"But for the world in general, if they don't change they goin' to the +devil. But God always goin' to have some good people in reserve 'til the +Judgment." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Caroline Watson + 517 E. 21st Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was born in '55 in March on the 13th on Sunday morning in time for +breakfast. I was born in Mississippi. I never will forget my white +folks. Oh, I was raised good. I had good white folks. Wish I could see +some of em now. + +"Well, I specs I do remember when the war started. I member when twas +goin' on. Oh Lord, I member all bout it. Old mistress' name was Miss +Ellen Shird. + +"Oh the Yankees used to come around. I can see us chillun sittin' on the +gallery watchin' em. I disremember what color uniform they had on, but I +seen a heap of em. + +"My old master, I can see him now--old Joe Shird. Just as good as they +could be. + +"I should say I do remember when they surrendered. I know everybody was +joyous. But they done better fore surrender than they did +afterwards--that is them that had to go off to themselves. + +"I was always so fast tryin' to work I wasn't studyin' bout no books, +but I went to school after surrender. My father and mother was smart old +folks and made us work. + +"I just been married once. I did pretty well. I like to been married +since he's dead but I seen so many didn't do so well. I has four sons +and one daughter. My son made me quit workin'. They gets me anything I +want. I got a religion that will do to die with. I done give up +everything. + +"Younger generation? What we goin' do with em? They ought to be sent off +some place and put to work. They just gone to the dogs. The Lord have +mercy. My heart just aches and moans and groans for em." + + + + +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--Mary Watson, 1500 Cross Street, Little +Rock. + +2. Date and time of interview-- + +3. Place of interview--1500 Cross Street, Little Rock. + +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-- + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.-- + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--father, Abram McCoy; mother, Louise McCoy. + +2. Place and date of birth--Mississippi. No date. + +3. Family-- + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Lived in Mississippi until 1891 then +moved to Arkansas. + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates-- + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview--This person tells very little of +life, but tells of her parents. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"My mother and father were McCoys. His name was Abram and her name was +Louise. My mother died right here when Brewer was Pastor of Wesley. You +ought to remember her. My mother died in 1928. My father died in 1897 +when Joe Sherrill was pastor. Joe Sherrill went to Africa, you know. He +was a missionary. + +"My mother was owned by Bill Mitchell. He came from Alabama. I can't +call the name of the town, just now. Yes, I can; it was Tuscaloosa. My +father came from South Carolina. McCoy was his owner. But how come him +to leave South Carolina he was sold after his master died and the +property was divided. He was sold away from his family. He had a large +family--about nine children. My mother was sold away from her mother +too. She was little and couldn't help herself. My grandma didn't want to +come. And she managed not to; I don't know how she managed it. + +"Before freedom my father was a farmer. My mother was a farmer too. My +mother wasn't so badly treated. She was a slave but she worked right +along with the white children. She had two brothers. The other sister +stayed with her mother. She was sold--my mother's mother. But I don't +know to whom. + +"My father was a preacher. He could word any hymn. How could he do it, I +don't know. On his Sunday, when the circuit rider wasn't there, he would +have me read the Bible to him and then he could get up and tell it to +the people. I don't know how he managed it. He didn't know how to read. +But he had a wonderful memory. He always had his exhorting license +renewed and he exhorted the people both Methodists and Baptists. After +freedom, when I went to school I knew and always helped him. + +"My father voted on the election days all the time. Be was a Republican, +and he rallied to them all the time. Before the war, my father farmed. +He commenced in the early fall hauling the cotton from Abbeville, South +Carolina to Augusta, Georgia. That was his business--teamster, hauling +cotton. He never did talk like his owners were so mean to him. Of +course, they weren't mean. When her master died and the property had to +be sold, his master bought her and her babies. + +"My father met my mother before the war started. Colored people were +scarce in the locality where she lived. These white people saw my father +and liked him. And they encouraged her to marry him. She was only +seventeen. My father was much older. He remembered the dark day in May +and when the stars fell. + +"He didn't show his age much though till he came to Little Rock. He had +been used to farming and city life didn't agree with him. He left about +seven years after coming here. + +"My father and mother met and married in Mississippi. He came from South +Carolina and she came from Alabama. They had nine children. All of them +were born after the war. I am the oldest. Lee McCoy is my youngest +brother. You know him, I'm sure. He is the president of Rust College. I +was born right after the war. Don't put me down as no ex-slave. I was +born right after the war. + +"Right after the war, my father farmed in Mississippi. He took a notion +to come to Arkansas in 1891. He brought his whole family with him. And I +have been out here ever since. + +"I never saw any slave houses. I wasn't a slave. I have been to the +place where my mother was raised. I was teaching school near there and +just wanted to see. After her master died, Sam McCallister, his cousin, +took the slave children and was their guardian. Years later it come up +in court and they took all his land. Bill Mitchell was her first master. +He died during slave time. McCallister was made administrator of the +estate. He was made guardian of all the children too. He was made +guardian of the white children and of the colored children. He raised +them all. There was Ma and her auntie and three or four children of her +auntie's. Later on, way after the war, there was a lawsuit. I was grown +then. The courts made him pay the white children their share as far as +he was able. Of course, the colored children got nothing because they +were slaves when he took them. + +"I don't know nothing about the Ku Klux Klan bothering my family. I +don't remember anything except that I hear them talking about the Ku +Klux and the Pateroles. I wasn't here. + +"Don't put me down as an ex-slave. I am not an ex-slave. I was born +after the war. I don't know nothing about slavery except what I heard +others say. I expect I have talked too much anyway." + + +Extra Comment + +The constant reiteration of the phrase, "I'm not an ex-slave" roused my +curiosity and drove me to a superficial investigation. Persons who are +acquainted with her and her family estimate that Mary Watson is nearer +eighty than seventy. She started her story pleasantly enough. But when +she got the obsession that she would be put down as an ex-slave, she +refused to tell more. + +There is one thing not to be overlooked. Mary Watson has a mind that is +still keen. She tells what she wants to tell, and she doesn't state a +thing that she does not want to state. The hidden facts are to be +discerned only by subtle inference. This trait interested me, for her +younger brother, mentioned in the story, is a distinguished character, +President of Rust College, Holly Springs, Mississippi, and known to be +experienced and efficient in his work. Whatever she may have reserved or +stated, in reading her story, we are reading at least a sidelight on a +family of which some of the members have done some fine work within the +race. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Bart Wayne, Helena, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I was born at Holly Springs in 1866. It was in the springtime. Ma said +I was born two years after the surrender. Ma was named Mary and pa +Dan--Dan Wayne. They never was sold. In 1912 Dr. Leard was living in a +big fine house at Sardia, Mississippi. He was our last owner. Mallard +Jones owned them too. Pa didn't have no name. He was called for his +owners. I don't know if he named hisself Dan Wayne or not. The way I +think it was, Mr. Jones give Dr. Leard's wife them. He give her a big +plantation. I knowed Dr. Leard my own self all my life. I'd go to see +him. + +"The present times is hard. I get ten dollars a month. I don't know what +to say about folks now--none of them." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella Anderson +Person Interviewed: Annie Mae Weathers + East Bone Street + El Dorado, Ark. +Age: ? + + +"I was born bout the second year after surrender right down here at +Caledonia. Now the white folks that ma and pa and me belonged to was +named Fords. We farmed all the time. The reason we farmed all the time +was because that was all for us to do. You see there wasn't nothin' else +for us to do. There wasn't no schools in my young days to do no good, +and this time of year we was plowin' to beat the band and us always +planted corn in February and in April our corn was. + +"We fixed our ground early and planted early and we had good crops of +everything. We went to bed early and rose early. We had a little song +that went like this: + + Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. + + and + + The early bird catches the worm. + +Cooked breakfast every morning by a pine torch. + +"I member hearin' my pa say that when somebody come and hollowed: 'Yer +niggers is free at last' say he just dropped his hoe and said in a queer +voice: 'Thank God for that.' It made old miss and old moss so sick till +they stopped eating a week. Pa said old moss and old miss looked like +their stomach and guts had a law suit and their navel was called in for +a witness, they was so sorry we was free. + +"After I got a good big girl I was hired out for my clothes and +something to eat. My dresses was made out of cotton stripes and my +chemise was made out of flannelette and my under pants was made out of +homespun. + +"Our games was 'Honey, honey Bee,' 'Ball I can't Yall,' and a nother one +of our games was 'Old Lady Hypocrit.'" + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Cora Weathers + 818 Chester Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I have been right on this spot for sixty-three years. I married when I +was sixteen and he brought me here and put me down and I have been here +ever since. No, I don't mean he deserted me; I mean he put me on this +spot of ground. Of course, I have been away on a visit but I haven't +been nowheres else to live. + +"When I came here, there was only three houses--George Winstead lived on +Chester and Eighth Street; Dave Davis lived on Ninth and Ringo; and +George Gray lived on Chester and Eighth. Rena Lee lived next to where +old man Paterson stays now, 906 Chester. Rena Thompson lived on Chester +and Tenth. The old people that used to live here is mostly dead or moved +up North. + +"On Seventh and Ringo there was a little store. It was the only store +this side of Main Street. There was a little old house where Coffin's +Drug Store is now. The branch ran across there. Old man John Peyton had +a nursery in a little log house. You couldn't see it for the trees. He +kept a nursery for flowers. On the next corner, old man Sinclair lived. +That is the southeast corner of Ninth and Broadway. Next to him was the +Hall of the Sons of Ham. + +"That was the first place I went to school. Lottie Stephens, Robert +Lacy, and Gus Richmond were the teacher. Hollins was the principal. That +was in the Sons of Ham's Hall. + +"I was born in Dallas County, Arkansas. It must have been 'long 'bout in +eighty-fifty-nine, 'cause I was sixteen years old when I come here and I +been here sixty-three years. + +"During the War, I was quite small. My mother brought me here after the +War and I went to school for a while. Mother had a large family. So I +never got to go to school but three months at a time and only got one +dollar and twenty-five cents a week wages when I was working. My father +drove a wagon and hoed cotton. Mother kept house. She had--lemme +see--one, two, three, four--eight of us, but the youngest brother was +born here. + +"My mother's name was Millie Stokes. My mother's name before she was +married was--I don't know what. My father's name was William Stokes. My +father said he was born in Maryland. I met Richard Weathers here and +married him sixty-three years ago. I had six children, three girls and +three boys. Children make you smart and industrious--make you think and +make you get about. + +"I've heard talk of the pateroles; they used to whip the slaves that was +out without passes, but none of them never bothered us. I don't remember +anything myself, because I was too small. I heard of the Ku Klux too; +they never bothered my people none. They scared the niggers at night. I +never saw none of them. I can't remember how freedom came. First I +knowed, I was free. + +"People in them days didn't know as much as the young people do now. But +they thought more. Young people nowadays don't think. Some of them will +do pretty well, but some of them ain't goin' to do nothin'. They are +gittin' worse and worser. I don't know what is goin' to become of them. +They been dependin' on the white folks all along, but the white folks +ain't sayin' much now. My people don't seem to want nothin'. The +majority of them just want to dress and run up and down the streets and +play cards and policy and drink and dance. It is nice to have a good +time but there is something else to be thought of. But if one tries to +do somethin', the rest tries to pull him down. The more education they +get, the worse they are--that is, some of them." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ishe Webb + 1610 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 78, or more + + +"I was born October 14. That was in slavery time. The record is burnt +up. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. My father's master was a Webb. His +first name was Huel. My father was named after him. I came here in 1874, +and I was a boy eleven or twelve years old then. + +"My father was sold to another man for seventeen hundred dollars. My +mother was sold for twenty hundred. I have heard them say that so much +that I never will forget it. Webb sold my father and bought him back. My +mother's folks were Calverts. The Calverts and the Webbs owned adjoining +plantations. + +"My grandmother on my mother's side was a Calvert too. Her first name +was Joanna. I think my father's parents got beat to death in slavery. +Grandfather on my mother's side was tied to a stump and whipped to +death. He was double jointed and no two men could whip him. They wanted +to whip him because he wouldn't work. That was what they would whip any +one for. They would run off before they would work. Stay in the woods +all night. + +"My Grandma Calvert was buried over here in Galloway on the Rock Island +road on the John Eynes plantation. + +"My folks' masters were all right. But them nigger drivers were bad, +just like the county farm. A man sitting in the house and putting you +over a lot of men, you gwinter go up high as you want to. + +"My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a weaver. There was a lot +of those slavery folks 'round the house, and they tell me they didn't +work them till they were twenty-one, they put them in the field when +they were twenty-two. If you didn't work they would beat you to death. +My father killed his overseer and went on off to the War. + +"The pateroles used to drive and whip them. They would catch the slaves +off without a pass and whip them and then make the boss pay for them +when they took them back. I never seen the pateroles but I have seen the +Ku Klux and they were the same thing. + +"The jayhawkers would catch you when the pateroles didn't. They would +carry you to the pateroles and get pay for you, and the pateroles would +turn you over to the owners. You had to have a pass. If you didn't the +pateroles would catch you and wear you out, keep you till the next +morning, and then send you home by the jayhawkers. They didn't call them +that though, they called them bushwhackers. + +"The Ku Klux came after the War. They was the same thing as the +pateroles--they come out from them. I know where the Ku Klux home is +over here on Eighteenth and Broadway. That is where they broke up. It +ain't never been open since. (Not correct--ed.) + +"I saw the Yankees come in the yard on the Webb place. That was in the +time of the War. The old man got on his horse and flew. The Yankees went +in the smokehouse, broke it open, got all the meat they wanted. They +didn't pay you nothing in slavery time. But what meat the Yankees didn't +take for themselves, they give to the niggers. + +"My folks never got anything for their work that I know of. I heard my +mother say that nobody got paid for their work. I don't know whether +they had a chance to make anything on the side or not. + +"The Yankees, when they come in the yard that morning, told my father he +was free. I remember that myself. They come up riding horses and +carryin' long old guns with bayonets on them, and told him. They rode +all over the country from one place to another telling the niggers they +were free. Master didn't get a chance to tell us because he left when he +saw them comin'. + +"When my mother and father were living on the plantation, they lived in +an old frame building. A portion of it was log. My father stayed with +the Calverts--his wife's white folks. At first old man Webb sold him to +them; then he bought him back and bought my mother too. They were +together when freedom came. You know they auctioned you off in slavery +time. Every year, they would, they put you up on the auction block and +buy and sell. That was down in Georgia. We was in Georgia when we was +freed--in Atlanta. My father and mother had fourteen children +altogether. My mother died the year after we came out here. That would +be about 1875. I never had but three children because my wife died +early. Two of them are dead. + +"Right after freedom, my father plaited baskets and mats. He shucked +mops, put handles on rakes and did things like that in addition to his +farming. He was a blacksmith all the time too. He used to plait collars +for mules. He farmed and got his harvests in season. The other things +would be a help to him between times. + +"My father came here because he thought that there was a better +situation here than in Georgia. Of course, the living was better there +because they had plenty of fruit. Then he worked on a third and fourth. +He got one bale of cotton out of every three he made. The slaves left +many a plantation and they would grow up in weeds. When a man would +clear up the ground like this and plant it down in something, he would +get all he planted on it. That was in addition to the ground that he +would contract to plant. He used to plant rice, peas, potatoes, corn, +and anything else he wanted too. It was all his'n so long as it was on +extra ground he cleared up. + +"But they said, 'Cotton grows as high as a man in Arkansas.' Then they +paid a man two dollars fifty cents for picking cotton here in Arkansas +while they just paid about forty cents in Georgia. So my father came +here. Times was good when we come here. The old man cleared five bales +of cotton for himself his first year, and he raised his own corn. He +bought a pony and a cow and a breeding hog out of the first year's +money. He died about thirty-five years ago. + +"When I was coming along I did public work after I became a grown man. +First year I made crops with him and cleared two bales for myself at +twelve and a half cents a pound. The second year I hired out by the +month at forty-five dollars per month and board. I had to buy my clothes +of course. After seven years I went to doing work as a millwright here +in Arkansas. I stayed at that eighteen months. Then I steamboated. + +"We had a captain on that steamboat that never called any man by his +name. We rolled cotton down the hill to the boat and loaded it on, and +if you weren't a good man, that cotton got wet. I never wetted my +cotton. But jus' the same, I heard what the others heard. One day after +we had finished loading, I thought I'd tell him something. The men +advised me not to. He was a rough man, and he carried a gun in his +pocket and a gun in his shirt. I walked up to him and said, 'Captain, I +don't know what your name is, but I know you's a white man. I'm a +nigger, but I got a name jus' like you have. My name's Webb. If you call +Webb, I'll come jus' as quick as I will for any other name and a lot +more willing. If you don't want to say Webb, you can jus' say "Let's +go," and you'll find me right there.' He looked at me a moment, and then +he said, 'Where you from?' I said, 'I'm from Georgia, but I came on this +boat from Little Hock.' He put his arm around my shoulder and said, +'Come on upstairs.' We had two or three drinks upstairs, and he said, +'You and your pardner are the only two men I have that is worth a damn.' +Then he said, 'But you are right; you have a name, and you have a right +to be called by it.' And from then on, he quit callin' us out of our +names. + +"But I only stayed on the boat six months. It wasn't because of the +captain. Them niggers was bad. They gambled all the time, and I gambled +with them. But they wouldn't stop at that. They would argue and fight +and cut and shoot. A man would shoot a man down, and then kick him off +into the river. Then when there was roll call, nobody would know what +became of him. I didn't like that. I knew that I was goin' to kill +somebody if I stayed on that boat 'cause I didn't intend for nobody to +kill me. So I stopped. + +"After that, I went back to the man that I worked for the month for and +stayed with him till I married. I took care of the stock. I was only +married once. My wife died the fourteenth of October. We had three +children, and I have one daughter living. + +"I have voted often. I never had no trouble. I am a colored man and I +ain't got nothin' but my character, but I take care of that. I let them +know I am in Arkansas. I ain't been out of Arkansas but to Memphis and +Vicksburg, and I took them trips on the boat I was working on. I was a +good man then. + +"I can't say nothing about these wild-headed young people. They ain't +got no sense. Take God to handle them. + +"Some parts of politics are all right and some are all wrong. It is like +Grant. He was straddled the fence part of the time. I believe Roosevelt +wants eight more years. Of course, he did a great deal for the people +but the working man isn't getting enough money. Prices are so high and +wages so low that a man keeps up to the grindstone and never gets ahead. +They don't mean for a colored man to prosper by money. Senator Robinson +said a nigger wasn't worth but fifty cents a day. But the nigger is +coming anyhow. He is stinching hisself and doing without. The young +folks ain't doing it though. These young folks doing every devilishment +on earth they can. Look at that boy they caught the other day who had +robbed twenty houses. This young race ain't goin' to stan' what I stood +for. They goin' to school every day but they ain't learning nothin'. +What will take us through this tedious journey through the world is his +manners, his principle, and his behavior. Money ain't goin' to do it. +You can't get by without principles, manner, and good behavior. Niggers +can't do it. And white folks can't either." + + + + +Pine Bluff District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Martin - Barker +Subject: (Negro Lore)--Ex-Slave +Story:--information + +This information given by: Alfred Wells +Place of residence: +Occupation: +Age 77 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +I has de eye of an eagle. One in my haid, de other in my chest. +Sometimes us slaves would stay out later at night than ole marster seid +we could and they send the patrols out for us. + +And we started a song; "Run nigger run, the petlo' catch you, run nigger +run, its almost day." + +My brother run off and hid in the pasture. I wuz a small boy, dey called +me nigger cowboy, cause I drive de cows up at night, and took em to de +paster in the mornings. + +I knowed my brother runned off, but I wouldn't tell on him. He run off +to join the Yankees. They never found him, although, they used the +nigger dogs, who were taken out by men who were looking for runaway +nigger slaves. + +Ef I had my choice, I'd ruther be a slave. But we cant always have our +ruthers. Them times I had good food, plenty to wear, and no more work +than was good for me. + +Now I is kinder miliated, when I think of what a high stepper I used to +be. Having, to hang around with a sack on my back begging de government +to keep me fum starving. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Douglas Wells + 1419 Alabama Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"I'se just a kid 'bout six or seven when the war started and 'bout ten +or twelve when it ceasted. + +"I'se born in Mississippi on Miss Nancy Davis' plantation. Old Jeff +Davis was some relation. + +"My brother Jeff jined the Yankees but I never seen none till peace was +declared. + +"I heered the old folks talkin' and they said they was fightin' to keep +the people slaves. + +"I 'member old mistress, Miss Nancy. She was old when I was a kid. She +had a big, large plantation. She had a lot of hands and big quarter +houses. Oh, I 'member you could go three miles this way and three miles +that way. Oh, she had a big plantation. I reckon it was mighty near big +as this town. I 'member they used to take the cotton and hide it in the +woods. I guess it was to keep the Yankees from gettin' it. + +"I lived in the quarters with my father and mother and we stayed there +after the war--long time after the war. I stayed there till I got to be +grown. I continued there. I 'member her house and yard. Had a big yard. + +"I can read some. Learned it at Miss Nancy Davis' plantation after the +war. They had a little place where they had school. I went to church +some a long time ago. + +"Abraham Lincoln was a white man. He fought in the time of the war, +didn't he? Oh, yes, he issued freedom. The Yankees and the Rebels +fought. + +"After the war I worked at farm work. I ain't did no real hard work for +over a year." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: John Wells, Edmondson, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was born down here at Edmondson, Arkansas. My owner was a captain in +the Rebel War (Civil War). He run us off to Texas close to Greenville. +He was keeping us from the Yankees. In fact my father had planned to go +to the Yankees. My mother died on the way to Texas close to the Arkansas +line. She was confined and the child died too. We went in a wagon. Uncle +Tom and his wife and Uncle Granville went too. He left his wife. She +lived on another white man's farm. My master was Captain R. Campbell +Jones. He took us to Texas. He and my father come back in the same wagon +we went to Texas in. My father (Joe Jones Wells) told Captain R. +Campbell Jones if he didn't let him come back here that he would be here +when he got here--beat him back. That's what he told him. Captain +brought him on back with him. + +"What didn't we do in Texas? Hooeee! I had five hundred head of sheep +belonging to J. Gardner, a Texan, to herd every day--twice a day. Carry +'em off in the morning early and watch 'em and fetch 'em back b'fore +dark. I was a shepherd boy is right. I liked the job till the snow +cracked my feet open. No, I didn't have no shoes. Little round cactuses +stuck in my feet. + +"I had shoes to wear home. Captain Jones gave leather and everything +needed to Uncle Granville. He was a shoemaker. He made us all shoes jus' +before we was to start back. Captain Jones sent the wagon back for us. +My father come back right here at Edmondson and farmed cotton and corn. +Uncle Tom and Uncle Granville raised wheat out in Texas. They didn't +have no overseer but they said they worked harder 'an ever they done in +their lives, 'fore or since. + +"My father went to war with his master. Captain Jones served 'bout three +years I judge. My father went as his waiter. He got enough of war, he +said. + +"Captain R. Campbell Jones had a wife, Miss Anne, and no children. I +seen mighty near enough war in Texas. They fit there. Yes ma'am, they +did. I seen soldiers in Greenville, Texas. I seen the cavalry there. +They looked so fine. Prettiest horses I ever seen. + +"Freedom! Master Campbell Jones come to us and said, 'You free this +morning. The war is over.' It been over then but travel was slow. 'You +all can go back home, I'll take you, or you can go root hog or die.' We +all got to gatherin' up our belongings to come back home. Tired of no +wood neither, besides that hard work. We all share cropped with Captain +R. Campbell Jones two years. I know that. We got plenty wood without +going five or six miles like in Texas. After freedom folks got to +changing 'bout to do better I reckon. I been farmin' right here all my +life. We didn't have a lot to eat out in Texas neither. Mother was a +farm woman too. + +"I never seen a Ku Klux. Bad Ku Klux sound sorter like good Santa Claus. +I heard 'em say it was real. I never seen neither one. + +"I did own ten acres of land. I own a home now. + +"My father drove a grub wagon from Memphis to Lost Swamp Bottom--near +Edmondson--when they built this railroad through here. + +"Father never voted. I have voted several times. + +"Present times is tougher now than before it come on. Things not going +like it ought somehow. We wants more pension. Us old folks needs a good +living 'cause we ain't got much more time down here. + +"Present generation--they are slack--I means they slack on their +parents, don't see after them. They can get farm work to do. They waste +their money more than they ought. Some folks purty nigh hungry. That is +for a fact the way it is going. + + +Edmondson, Arkansas + +"Master Henry Edmondson owned all the land to the Chatfield place to +Lehi, Arkansas. He owned four or five thousand acres of land. It was +bottoms and not cleared. They had floods then, rode around in boats +sometimes. Colored folks could get land through Andy Flemming (colored +man). Mr. Henry Edmondson and whole family died with the yellow fever. +He had several children--Miss Emma, Henry, and Will I knowed. It is +probably his father buried at far side of this town. A rattlesnake bit +him. Lake Rest or Scantlin was a boat landing and that was where the +nearest white folks lived to the Edmondsons. I worked for Mr. Henry +Edmondson, the one died with yellow fever. He was easy to work for. Land +wasn't cleared out much. He was here before the Civil War. Good many +people, in fact all over there, died of yellow fever at Indian Mound. Me +and my brother waited on white folks all through that yellow fever +plague. Very few colored folks had it. None of 'em I heered tell of died +with it. White folks died in piles. Now when the smallpox raged the +colored folks had it seem like heap more and harder than white folks. +Smallpox used to rage every few years. It break out and spread. That is +the way so many colored folks come to own land and why it was named +Edmondson. Named for Master Henry--Edmondson, Arkansas. + +"Mrs. Cynthia Ann Earle wrote a diary during the Civil War. It was +partly published in the Crittenden County Times--West Memphis +paper--Fridays, November 27 and December 4, 1936. She tells interesting +things happening. Mentions two books she is reading. She tells about a +flood, etc. She tells about visiting and spending over a thousand +dollars. Mrs. L.A. Stewart or Mrs. H.E. Weaver of Edmondson owns copies +if they cannot be obtained at the printing office at West Memphis." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Sarah Wells + 1012 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 84 +Occupation: Field hand + + +"I was born in Warren County, Mississippi, on Ben Watkins' plantation. +That was my master--Ben Worthington. I don't know nothin' about the year +but it was before the war--the Civil War. I was born on Christmas day. + +"Isaac Irby was my father. I don't know how you spell it. I can't read +and write. I can tell you this. My mother's dead. She's been dead since +I was twelve years old. Her name was Jane Irby. My name is Wells because +I have been married. Willis was my husband's name. I have just been +married once. I was married to him fifty years. He has been dead +thirteen years the fifteenth of October. I don't know how old I was when +I was married. But I know I am eighty-four years old now. I must have +been about twenty or twenty-one when I married. + + +Slave Houses + +"The slaves lived in log houses, dirt chimneys, plank floors. They had +beds made out of wood--that's all I know. I don't know where they kept +their food. They kept it in the house when they had any. The slaves +didn't have to cook much. Mars Ben had a slave to cook for them. They +all et breakfast together, and lunch in the fiel'. + + +Food and Cooking + +"There was a great big shed. They'd all go up there and eat--the slaves +would all go up and eat. I don't know what the grown folks had. They +used to give us children milk and corn bread for breakfast. They'd give +us greens, peas, and all like that for dinner. Didn't know nothin' about +no lunch. + + +Work and Runaways; Day's Work + +"My mother and father worked in the field hoeing, plowing and all like +that--doing whatever they told 'em to do. They raised corn and ground +meal. Some of the slaves would pick five hundred pounds of cotton in a +day; some of them would pick three hundred pounds; and some of them only +picked a hundred. IF YOU DIDN'T PICK TWO HUNDRED FIFTY POUNDS, THEY'D +PUNISH YOU, put you in the stocks. If you'd run off, they put the nigger +hounds behind you. I never run off, but my mother run off. + +"She would go in the woods. I don't know where she'd go after she'd get +in the woods. She would go in the woods and hide somewheres. She'd take +somethin' to eat with her. I couldn't find her myself. She take +somethin' to eat with her. She didn't know what flour bread was. I don't +remember what she'd take--somethin' she could carry. Sometimes she would +stay in the woods two months, sometimes three months. They'd pay for the +nigger hounds and let them chase her back. She'd try to get away. She +never took me with her when she ran away. + + +Buying and Selling + +"My mother and her sister were bought in old Virginny. Ben Watkins was +the one that bought her. He bought my father too. Then he sold my father +to the Leightons. Leighton bought my father from Ben Watkins for a +carriage driver. I was never bought nor sold. I was born on Ben Watkins' +plantation and freed on it. + + +Patrollers + +"I've heered them say the pateroles is out. I don't know who they was. I +know they'd whip you. I was a child then. I would just know what I was +told mostly. + + +How Freedom Came + +"The Yankees told my mother she was free. They had on blue clothes. They +said them was the Yankees. I don't know what they told her. I know they +said she was free. That's all I know. + +"Sometimes the soldiers would do right smart damage. They set a lot of +houses on fire. They done right smart damage. + + +Jeff Davis + +"I have seen Jeff Davis. I never seen Lincoln. They said it was Jeff +Davis I seen. I seen him in Vicksburg. That was after the war was over. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"I have heered about the Ku Klux, but I don't know what it was I heered. +They never bothered me. + + +Right after the War + +"Right after the war, my mother and father hired out to work. They did +most any kind of work--whatever they could get to do. Mother cooked. +Father would generally do house cleaning. Mother didn't live long after +the war. + + +Blood Poisoning + +"I lost my finger because of blood poisoning. I had a scratch on my +finger. Pulled a hangnail out of it. I went around a lady who had a high +fever and she asked me to sponge her off and I did it. I got the finger +in the water that I sponged with and it got blood poisoned. I like to +have died. + + +Father's Death + +"I was married and had three children when my father died. I don't know +what he died with nor what year. + +"My mother had had seven children--all girls. I had seven children. But +three of mine were boys and four were girls. Ain't none of them living +now. + + +Little Rock + +"My son was living in Little Rock and he kept after me to come here and +I come. After I come, he left and went to Kansas City. He died there. I +used to do laundry work. I quit that. I commenced to do sellin' for +different companies. I sold for Mack Brady, Crawford & Reeves, and a lot +of 'em. + + +Opinions + +"I don't know what I think about the young people. They ain't nothin' +like I was when I was a gal. Things have changed since I come along. I +better not say what I think." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The interviewee says she is eighty-four, and her story hangs together. +Her husband died thirteen years ago, and they had been married fifty +years when he died. She "recollects" being about twenty years old when +she married. She says she was about twelve years old when her mother +died, one year after the close of the Civil War. This data seems to be +rather conclusive on the age of eighty-four. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sarah Williams Wells, Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: Born 1866 + + +"I jess can't tell much; my memory fails me. My white folks was John and +Mary Williams but I was born two years after the surrender. Soon after +the surrender they went to Lebanon, Tennessee. My folks stayed on wha I +was born round in Murry County. My father was killed after the war but I +was little. My mother died same year I married. I heard em say there was +John and Frank. They may be living over there now. I heard em talking +bout war times. They said my father was a blacksmith in the war. I come +here wid four little children on a ticket to Crocketts Bluff. We was +sick all that year. Made a fine crop. The man let another man have us to +work. He was a colored man. His wife she was mean to us. She never come +to see or do one thing when we all had fever. The babies nearly starved. +Took all for doctor bills and medicine. Had $12 when all bills settled +out of the whole crop. In all I had fifteen children. But two girls and +one boy all that livin now. I farmed and washed and ironed all my life. +My husband was born a slave. (He recently died.) + +"The present generation ain't got no religion. They dances and cuts up a +heap. They don't care nothing bout settlin down. When they marry now, +that man say he got the law on her. She belongs to him. He thinks he can +make her do like he wants her all the time and they don't get along. Now +that's what I hear round. I sho got married and we got along good till +he died. We treated one another best we knowed how. The times is what +the folks making it. Time ain't no different, is like the folks make. +This depression is whut the folks is making. Some so scared they won't +get it all. They leave mighty little for the rest to get. They ain't +nothin matter with nothin but the greedy people want it all to split +through wid. I don't know what going to come of it all. Nothin I tell +you bout it ain't no good. Young folks done smarter than I is. They +don't listen to nobody." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: John Wesley, Helena, Arkansas +Age: ? + + +"I was full grown when the Civil War come on. I was a slave till +'mancipation. I was born close to Lexington, Kentucky. My master in +Kentucky was Master Griter. He was 'fraid er freedom. Father belong to +Averys in Tennessee. He was a farm hand. They wouldn't sell him. I was +sold to Master Boone close to Moscow. I was sold on a scaffold high as +that door (twelve feet). I seen a lot of children sold on that scaffold. +I fell in the hands of George Coggrith. We come to Helena in wagons. We +crossed the river out from Memphis to Hopefield. I lived at Wittsburg, +Arkansas during the war. They smuggled us about from the Yankees and +took us to Texas. Before the war come on we had to fight the Indians +back. They tried to sell us in Texas. George Coggrith's wife died. +Mother was the cook for all the hands and the white folks too. She +raised two boys and three girls for him. She went on raising his +children during the war and after the war. During the war we hid out and +raised cotton and corn. We hid in the woods. The Yankees couldn't make +much out in the woods and canebrakes. We stayed in Texas about a year. +Four years after freedom we didn't know we was free. We was on his farm +up at Wittsburg. That is near Madison, Arkansas. Mother wouldn't let the +children get far off from our house. She was afraid the Indians would +steal the children. They stole children or I heard they did. The wild +animals and snakes was one thing we had to look out for. Grown folks and +children all kept around home unless you had business and went on a +trip. + +"My wife died three years ago. I stay with a grandchild. I got a boy but +I don't know where he is now. + +"I had a acre and a home. I got in debt and they took my place. + +"I voted. The last time for President Wilson. We got a good President +now. I voted both kinds of tickets some. I think they called me a +Democrat. I quit voting. I'm too old. + +"I farmed in my young days. I oil milled. I saw milled. I still black +smithing (in Helena now). I make one or two dollars a week. Work is hard +to git. Times is tight. I don't get help 'ceptin' some friend bring us +some work. I stay up here all time nearly. + +"I don't know about the young generation. + +"Well, we had a gin. During of the war it got burnt and lots of bales of +cotton went 'long with it. + +"The Ku Klux come about and drink water. They wanted folks to stay at +home and work. That what they said. We done that. We didn't know we was +free nohow. We wasn't scared." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Robert Wesley, Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +"I was born in Shelby County, Alabama. My parents was Mary and Thomas +Wesley. Their master was Mary and John Watts. + +"John Watts tried to keep me. I stayed round him all time and rode up +behind him on his horse. He was a soldier. + +"Both my parents was sold but I don't know how it was done. There was +thirteen children in our family. The white folks had a picnic and took +colored long to do round. Some heard bout freedom and went home tellin' +bout it. We stayed on and worked. + +"The Ku Klux sure did run some of em. Seem like they didn't know what +freedom meant. Some of em run off and kept goin'. Never did get back. I +don't know a thing bout the Ku Klux. I heard em say they got whoopin's +for doin' too much visitin'. I was a baby so I don't know. + +"I do not vote. I voted for McKinley in Mississippi. + +"I been farmin' all my life. I got one hog and a garden, three little +grand babies. My daughter died and their papa went off and left em. +Course I took em--had to. I pay $1 house rent. I get $12 from the PWA. + +"The times is mighty fast. I recken the young folks do fair. There has +been big changes since I come on." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Maggie Wesmoland, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 85 + + +"I was born in Arkansas in slavery time beyond Des Arc. My parents was +sold in Mississippi. They was brought to Arkansas. I never seed my +father after the closing of the war. He had been refugeed to Texas and +come back here, then he went on back to Mississippi. Mama had seventeen +children. She had six by my stepfather. When my stepfather was mustered +out at De Valls Bluff he come to Miss (Mrs.) Holland's and got mama and +took her on wid him. I was give to Miss Holland's daughter. She married +a Cargo. The Hollands raised me and my sister. I never seen mama after +she left. My mother was Jane Holland and my father was Smith Woodson. +They lived on different places here in Arkansas. I had a hard time. I +was awfully abused by the old man that married Miss Betty. She was my +young mistress. He was poor and hated Negroes. He said they didn't have +no feeling. He drunk all the time. He never had been used to Negroes and +he didn't like em. He was a middle age man but Miss Betty Holland was in +her teens. + +"No, mama didn't have as hard a time as I had. She was Miss Holland's +cook and wash woman. Miss Betty told her old husband, 'Papa don't beat +his Negroes. He is good to his Negroes.' He worked overseers in the +field. Nothing Miss Betty ever told him done a bit of good. He didn't +have no feeling. I had to go in a trot all the time. I was scared to +death of him--he beat me so. I'm scarred up all over now where he lashed +me. He would strip me start naked and tie my hands crossed and whoop me +till the blood ooze out and drip on the ground when I walked. The flies +blowed me time and again. Miss Betty catch him gone, would grease my +places and put turpentine on them to kill the places blowed. He kept a +bundle of hickory switches at the house all the time. Miss Betty was +good to me. She would cry and beg him to be good to me. + +"One time the cow kicked over my milk. I was scared not to take some +milk to the house, so I went to the spring and put some water in the +milk. He was snooping round (spying) somewhere and seen me. He beat me +nearly to death. I never did know what suit him and what wouldn't. +Didn't nothing please him. He was a poor man, never been used to nothin' +and took spite on me everything happened. They didn't have no children +while I was there but he did have a boy before he died. He died fore I +left Dardanelle. When Miss Betty Holland married Mr. Cargo she lived +close to Dardanelle. That is where he was so mean to me. He lived in the +deer and bear hunting country. + +"He went to town to buy them some things for Christmas good while after +freedom--a couple or three years. Two men come there deer hunting every +year. One time he had beat me before them and on their way home they +went to the Freemens bureau and told how he beat me and what he done it +for--biggetness. He was a biggity acting and braggy talking old man. +When he got to town they asked him if he wasn't hiding a little Negro +girl, ask if he sent me to school. He come home. I slept on a bed made +down at the foot of their bed. That night he told his wife what all he +said and what all they ask him. He said he would kill whoever come there +bothering about me. He been telling that about. He told Miss Betty they +would fix me up and let me go stay a week at my sister's Christmas. He +went back to town, bought me the first shoes I had had since they took +me. They was brogan shoes. They put a pair of his sock on me. Miss Betty +made the calico dress for me and made a body out of some of his pants +legs and quilted the skirt part, bound it at the bottom with red +flannel. She made my things nice--put my underskirt in a little frame +and quilted it so it would be warm. Christmas day was a bright warm day. +In the morning when Miss Betty dressed me up I was so proud. He started +me off and told me how to go. + +"I got to the big creek. I got down in the ditch--couldn't get across. I +was running up and down it looking for a place to cross. A big old mill +was upon the hill. I could see it. I seen three men coming, a white man +with a gun and two Negro men on horses or mules. I heard one say, +'Yonder she is.' Another said, 'It don't look like her.' One said, 'Call +her.' One said, 'Margaret.' I answered. They come to me and said, 'Go to +the mill and cross on a foot log.' I went up there and crossed and got +upon a stump behind my brother-in-law on his horse. I didn't know him. +The white man was the man he was share croppin' with. They all lived in +a big yard like close together. I hadn't seen my sister before in about +four years. Mr. Cargo told me if I wasn't back at his house New Years +day he would come after me on his horse and run me every step of the way +home. It was nearly twenty-five miles. He said he would give me the +worst whooping I ever got in my life. I was going back, scared not to be +back. Had no other place to live. + +"When New Year day come the white man locked me up in a room in his +house and I stayed in there two days. They brought me plenty to eat. I +slept in there with their children. Mr. Cargo never come after me till +March. He didn't see me when he come. It started in raining and cold and +the roads was bad. When he come in March I seen him. I knowed him. I lay +down and covered up in leaves. They was deep. I had been in the woods +getting sweet-gum when I seen him. He scared me. He never seen me. This +white man bound me to his wife's friend for a year to keep Mr. Cargo +from getting me back. The woman at the house and Mr. Cargo had war +nearly about me. I missed my whoopings. I never got none that whole +year. It was Mrs. Brown, twenty miles from Dardanelle, they bound me +over to. I never got no more than the common run of Negro children but +they wasn't mean to me. + +"When I was at Cargo's, he wouldn't buy me shoes. Miss Betty would have +but in them days the man was head of his house. Miss Betty made me +moccasins to wear out in the snow--made them out of old rags and pieces +of his pants. I had risings on my feet and my feet frostbite till they +was solid sores. He would take his knife and stob my risings to see the +matter pop way out. The ice cut my feet. He cut my foot on the side with +a cowhide nearly to the bone. Miss Betty catch him outer sight would +doctor my feet. Seem like she was scared of him. He wasn't none too good +to her. + +"He told his wife the Freemens Bureau said turn that Negro girl loose. +She didn't want me to leave her. He despised nasty Negroes he said. One +of them fellows what come for me had been to Cargo's and seen me. He was +the Negro man come to show Patsy's husband and his share cropper where I +was at. He whooped me twice before them deer hunters. They visited him +every spring and fall hunting deer but they reported him to the Freemens +Bureau. They knowed he was showing off. He overtook me on a horse one +day four or five years after I left there. I was on my way from school. +I was grown. He wanted me to come back live with them. Said Miss Betty +wanted to see me so bad. I was so scared I lied to him and said yes to +all he said. He wanted to come get me a certain day. I lied about where +I lived. He went to the wrong place to get me I heard. I was afraid to +meet him on the road. He died at Dardanelle before I come way from +there. + +"After I got grown I hired out cooking at $1.25 a week and then $1.50 a +week. When I was a girl I ploughed some. I worked in the field a mighty +little but I have done a mountain of washing and ironing in my life. I +can't tell you to save my life what a hard time I had when I was growing +up. My daughter is a blessing to me. She is so good to me. + +"I never knowed nor seen the Ku Klux. The Bushwhackers was awful after +the war. They went about stealing and they wouldn't work. + +"Conditions is far better for young folks now than when I come on. They +can get chances I couldn't get they could do. My daughter is tied down +here with me. She could do washings and ironings if she could get them +and do it here at home. I think she got one give over to her for awhile. +The regular wash woman is sick. It is hard for me to get a living since +I been sick. I get commodities. But the diet I am on it is hard to get +it. The money is the trouble. I had two strokes and I been sick with +high blood pressure three years. We own our house. Times is all right if +I was able to work and enjoy things. I don't get the Old Age Pension. I +reckon because my daughter's husband has a job--I reckon that is it. I +can't hardly buy milk, that is the main thing. The doctor told me to eat +plenty milk. + +"I never voted." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Calvin West, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 68 + + +"Mother belong to Parson Renfro. He had a son named Jim Renfro. She was +a cook and farm hand too. I never heard her speak much of her owners. +Pa's owner was Dr. West and Miss Jensie West. He had a son Orz West and +his daughter was Miss Lillie West. I never was around their owners. Some +was dead before I come on. My pa was a cripple man. His leg was drawn +around with rheumatism. During slavery he would load up a small cart wid +cider and ginger cakes and go sell it out. He sold ginger cakes two for +a nickel and I never heard how he sold the cider. I heard him tell close +speriences he had with the patrollers. Some of the landowners didn't +want him trespassing on their places. He got a part of the money he sold +out for. I judge from what he said his owner got part for the wagon and +horse. He sold some at stores before freedom. He farmed too. His name +was Phillip West and mother's name was Lear West. He was a crack hand at +making ginger cakes. He sold wagon loads in town on Saturday till he +died. I was a boy nearly grown. They had ten children in all. I was born +in Tate County, Mississippi. + +"Mr. Miller had land here. I didn't work for him but he wanted me to +come here and work his land. He give us tickets. He said this was new +land and we could do better. We work a lot and make big crops and don't +hardly get a living out of it. We come on the train here. + +"We come in 1920. The way we got down here now it is bad. We make big +crops and don't get much for it. We have no place to raise things to +help out and pay big prices for everything. I work. But times is hard. +That is the very reason it is hard. We got no place to raise nothing. +(Hard road and ditch in front and cotton field all around it except a +few feet of padded dirt and a wood pile.) Times is good and if a fellow +could ever get a little ahead I believe he could stay ahead. Since my +wife been sick we jes' can make it. + +"We never called for no help. She cooked and I worked. She signed up but +it will be a long time, they said, till they could get to her." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Mays West, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 65 + + +"My parents' names was Josie Vesey and Henry Mays. They had ten children +and five lived to be full grown. I was born in Tate County, Mississippi. +Mother died in childbirth when she was twenty-eight years old. I'm the +mother of twelve and got five living. I been cooking out for white +people since I was nine years old. I am a good cook they all tell me and +I tries to be clean with my cooking. + +"Mother died before I can remember much about her. My father said he had +to work before day and all day and till after night in the spring and +fall of the year. They ploughed with oxen and mules and horses all. He +said how they would rest the teams and feed and still they would go on +doing something else. They tromped cotton at night by torchlight. +Tromped it in the wagons to get off to the gin early next morning. + +"In the winter they built fences and houses and got up wood and cleared +new ground. They made pots of lye hominy and lye soap the same day. They +had a ashhopper set all time. In the summer is when they ditched if they +had any of that to do. Farming has been pretty much the same since I was +a child. I have worked in the field all my life. I cook in the morning +and go to the field all evening. + +"We just had a hard time this winter. I had a stroke in October and had +to quit cooking. (Her eye is closed on her left side--ed.) I love farm +life. The flood last year got us behind too. We could do fine if I had +my health." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sylvester Wethington + Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: 77 + + +"I recollect seeing the Malish (Malitia) pass up and down the road. I +can tell you two things happened at our house. The Yankee soldiers come +took all the stock we had all down to young mistress' mule. They come +fer it. Young mistress got a gun, went out there, put her side saddle on +the mule and climbed up. They let her an' that mule both be. Nother +thing they had a wall built in betwix er room and let hams and all kinds +provisions swing down in thor. It went unnoticed. I recken it muster +been 3 ft. wide and long as the room. Had to go up in the loft from de +front porch. The front porch wasn't ceiled but a place sawed out so you +could get up in the loft. They used a ladder and went up there bout once +a week. They swung hams and meal, flour and beef. They swung sacks er +corn down in that place. That all the place where they could keep us a +thing in de world to eat. They come an' got bout all we had. Look like +starvation ceptin' what we had stored way." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Joe Whitaker, Madison, Arkansas +Age: 70 plus + + +"I'm a blacksmith; my pa was a fine blacksmith. He was a blacksmith in +the old war (Civil War). He never got a pension. He said he loss his +sheep skin. His owners was George and Bill Whitaker. Mother always said +her owners was pretty good. I never heard my pa speak of them in that +way. They was both born in Tennessee. She was never sold. I was born in +Murray County, Tennessee too. My mother was named Fronie Whitaker and pa +Ike Whitaker. Mother had eleven children. My wife is a full-blood +Cherokee Indian. We have ten children and twenty-three grandchildren. + +"I don't have a word to say against the times; they are close at +present. Nor a word to say about the next generation. I think times is +progressing and I think the people are advancing some too." + + +[TR: The following is typed, but scratched out by hand:] +Interviewer's Comment + +Some say his wife is a small part African. + + + + +Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg +Person interviewed: Mrs. Julia A. White, 3003 Cross St., + Little Rock, Ark. +Age: 79 + + +Idiom and dialect are lacking in this recorded interview. Mrs. White's +conversation was entirely free from either. On being questioned about +this she explained that she was reared in a home where fairly correct +English was used. + + +My cousin Emanuel Armstead could read and write, and he kept the records +of our family. At one time he was a school director. Of course, that was +back in the early days, soon after the war closed. + +My father was named James Page Jackson because he was born on the old +Jackson plantation in Lancaster county, Virginia. He named one of his +daughters Lancaster for a middle name in memory of his old home. Clarice +Lancaster Jackson was her full name. A man named Galloway bought my +father and brought him to Arkansas. Some called him by the name of +Galloway, but my father always had all his children keep the name +Jackson. There were fourteen of us, but only ten lived to grow up. He +belonged to Mr. Galloway at the time of my birth, but even at that, I +did not take the name Galloway as it would seem like I should. My father +was a good carpenter; he was a fine cook, too; learned that back in +Virginia. I'll tell you something interesting. The first cook stove ever +brought to this town was one my father had his master to bring. He was +cook at the Anthony House. You know about that, don't you? It was the +first real fine hotel in Little Rock. When father went there to be head +cook, all they had to cook on was big fireplaces and the big old Dutch +ovens. Father just kept on telling about the stoves they had in +Virginia, and at last they sent and got him one; it had to come by boat +and took a long time. My father was proud that he was the one who set +the first table ever spread in the Anthony House. + +You see, it was different with us, from lots of slave folks. Some +masters hired their slaves out. I remember a drug store on the corner of +Main and Markham; it was McAlmont's drug store. Once my father worked +there; the money he earned, it went to Mr. Galloway, of course. He said +it was to pay board for mother and us little children. + +My mother came from a fine family,--the Beebe family. Angeline Beebe was +her name. You've heard of the Beebe family, of course. Roswell Beebe at +one time owned all the land that Little Rock now sets on. I was born in +a log cabin where Fifth and Spring streets meet. The Jewish Synagogue is +on the exact spot. Once we lived at Third and Cumberland, across from +that old hundred-year-old-building where they say the legislature once +met. What you call it? Yes, that's it; the Hinterlider building. It was +there then, too. My father and mother had the kind of wedding they had +for slaves, I guess. Yes, ma'am, they did call them "broom-stick +weddings". I've heard tell of them. Yes, ma'am, the master and mistress, +when they find a couple of young slave folks want to get married, they +call them before themselves and have them confess they want to marry. +Then they hold the broom, one at each end, and the young folks told to +jump over. Sometimes they have a new cabin fixed all for them to start +in. After Peace, a minister came and married my father and mother +according to the law of the church and of the land. + +The master's family was thoughtful in keeping our records in their own +big family Bible. All the births and deaths of the children in my +father's family was in their Bible. After Peace, father got a big Bible +for our family, and--wait, I'll show you.... Here they are, all copied +down just like out of old master's Bible.... Here's where my father and +mother died, over on this page. Right here's my own children. This space +is for me and my husband. + +No ma'am, it don't make me tired to talk. But I need a little time to +recall all the things you want to know 'bout. I was so little when +freedom came I just can't remember. I'll tell you, directly. + +I remember that the first thing my father did was to go down to a +plantation where the bigger children was working, and bring them all +home, to live together as one family. That was a plantation where my +mother had been; a man name Moore--James Moore--owned it. I don't know +whether he had bought my mother from Beebe or not. I can remember two +things plain what happened there. I was little, but can still see them. +One of my mother's babies died and Master went to Little Rock on a horse +and carried back a little coffin under his arm. The mistress had brought +mother a big washing. She was working under the cover of the wellhouse +and tears was running down her face. When master came back, he said: +"How come you are working today, Angeline, when your baby is dead?" She +showed him the big pile of clothes she had to wash, as mistress said. He +said: "There is plenty of help on this place what can wash. You come on +in and sit by your little baby, and don't do no more work till after the +funeral." He took up the little dead body and laid it in the coffin with +his own hands. I'm telling you this for what happened later on. + +A long time after peace, one evening mother heard a tapping at the door. +When she went, there was her old master, James Moore. "Angeline," he +said, "you remember me, don't you?" Course she did. Then he told her he +was hungry and homeless. A man hiding out. The Yankees had taken +everything he had. Mother took him in and fed him for two or three days +till he was rested. The other thing clear to my memory is when my uncle +Tom was sold. Another day when mother was washing at the wellhouse and I +was playing around, two white men came with a big, broad-shouldered +colored man between them. Mother put her arms around him and cried and +kissed him goodbye. A long time after, I was watching one of my brothers +walk down a path. I told mother that his shoulders and body look like +that man she kissed and cried over. "Why honey," she says to me, "can +you remember that?" Then she told me about my uncle Tom being sold away. + +So you see, Miss, it's a good thing you are more interested in what I +know since slave days. I'll go on now. + +The first thing after freedom my mother kept boarders and done fine +laundry work. She boarded officers of the colored Union soldiers; she +washed for the officers' families at the Arsenal. Sometimes they come +and ask her to cook them something special good to eat. Both my father +and mother were fine cooks. That's when we lived at Third and +Cumberland. I stayed home till I was sixteen and helped with the cooking +and washing and ironing. I never worked in a cottonfield. The boys did. +All us girls were reared about the house. We were trained to be lady's +maids and houseworkers. I married when I was sixteen. That husband died +four years later, and the next year I married this man, Joel Randolph +White. Married him in March, 1879. In those days you could put a house +on leased ground. Could lease it for five years at a time. My father put +up a house on Tenth and Scott. Old man Haynie owned the land and let us +live in the house for $25.00 a year until father's money was all gone; +then we had to move out. The first home my father really owned was at +1220 Spring street, what is now. Course then, it was away out in the +country. A white lawyer from the north--B.F. Rice was his name--got my +brother Jimmie to work in his office. Jimmie had been in school most all +his life and was right educated for colored boy then. Mr. Rice finally +asked him how would he like to study law. So he did; but all the time he +wanted to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell Jimmie to go on studying law. It +is a good education; it would help him to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell +my father he can own his own home by law. So he make out the papers and +take care of everything so some persons can't take it away. All that +time my family was working for Mr. Rice and finally got the home paid +for, all but the last payment, and Mr. Rice said Jimmie's services was +worth that. So we had a nice home all paid for at last. We lived there +till father died in 1879, and about ten years more. Then sold it. + +My father had more money than many ex-slaves because he did what the +Union soldiers told him. They used to give him "greenbacks" money and +tell him to take good care of it. You see, miss, Union money was not any +good here. Everything was Confederate money. You couldn't pay for a +dime's worth even with a five dollar bill of Union money then. The +soldiers just keep on telling my father to take all the greenbacks he +could get and hide away. There wasn't any need to hide it, nobody wanted +it. Soldiers said just wait; someday the Confederate money wouldn't be +any good and greenbacks would be all the money we had. So that's how my +father got his money. + +If you have time to listen, miss, I'd like to tell you about a wonderful +thing a young doctor done for my folks. It was when the gun powder +explosion wrecked my brother and sister. The soldiers at the Arsenal +used to get powder in tins called canteens. When there was a little +left--a tablespoon full or such like, they would give it to the little +boys and show them how to pour it in the palm of their hand, touch a +match to it and then blow. The burning powder would fly off their hand +without burning. We were living in a double house at Eighth and Main +then; another colored family in one side. They had lots of children, +just like us. One canteen had a lot more powder in. My brother was +afraid to pour it on his hand. He put a paper down on top of the stove +and poured it out. It was a big explosion. My little sister was standing +beside her brother and her scalp was plum blowed off and her face burnt +terribly. His hand was all gone, and his face and neck and head burnt +terribly, too. There was a young doctor live close by name Deuell. +Father ran for him. He tell my mother if she will do just exactly what +he say, their faces will come out fine. He told her to make up bread +dough real sort of stiff. He made a mask of it. Cut holes for their +eyes, nose holes and mouths, so you could feed them, you see. He told +mother to leave that on till it got hard as a rock. Then still leave it +on till it crack and come off by itself. Nobody what ever saw their +faces would believe how bad they had been burnt. Only 'round the edges +where the dough didn't cover was there any scars. Dr. Deuell only +charged my father $50.00 apiece for that grand work on my sister and +brother. + +_Yes ma'am_, I'll tell you how I come to speak what you call good +English. First place, my mother and father was brought up in families +where they heard good speech. Slaves what lived in the family didn't +talk like cottonfield hands. My parents sure did believe in education. + +The first free schools in Little Rock were opened by the Union for +colored children. They brought young white ladies for teachers. They had +Sunday School in the churches on Sunday. In a few years they had colored +teachers come. One is still living here in Little Rock. I wish you would +go see her. She is 90 years old now. She founded the Wesley Chapel here. +On her fiftieth anniversary my club presented her a gold medal and had +"Mother Wesley" engraved on it. Her name is Charlotte E. Stevens. She +has the first school report ever put out in Little Rock. It was in the +class of 1869. Two of my sisters were graduated from Philander Smith +College here in Little Rock and had post graduate work in Fisk +University in Nashville, Tennessee. My brothers and sisters all did well +in life. Allene married a minister and did missionary work. Cornelia was +a teacher in Dallas, Texas. Mary was a caterer in Hot Springs. Clarice +went to Colorado Springs, Colorado and was a nurse in a doctor's office. +Jimmie was the preacher, as I told you. Gus learned the drug business +and Willie got to be a painter. Our adopted sister, Molly, could do +anything, nurse, teach, manage a hotel. Yes, our parents always insisted +we had to go to school. It's been a help to me all my life. I'm the only +one now living of all my brothers and sisters. + +Well ma'am, about how we lived all since freedom; it's been good till +these last years. After I married my present husband in 1879, he worked +in the Missouri Pacific railroad shops. He was boiler maker's helper. +They called it Iron Mountain shops then, though. 52 years, 6 months and +24 days he worked there. In 1922, on big strike, all men got laid off. +When they went back, they had to go as new men. Don't you see what that +done to my man? He was all ready for his pension. Yes ma'am, had worked +his full time to be pensioned by the railroad. But we have never been +able to get any retirement pension. He should have it. Urban League is +trying to help him get it. He is out on account of disability and old +age. He got his eye hurt pretty bad and had to be in the railroad +hospital a long time. I have the doctor's papers on that. Then he had a +bad fall what put him again in the hospital. That was in 1931. He has +never really been discharged, but just can't get any compensation. He +has put in his claim to the Railroad Retirement office in Washington. +I'm hoping they get to it before he dies. We're both mighty old and +feeble. He had a stroke in 1933, since he been off the railroad. + +How we living now? It's mighty poorly, please believe that. In his good +years we bought this little home, but taxes so high, road assessments +and all make it more than we can keep up. My granddaughter lives with +us. She teaches, but only has school about half a year. I was trying to +educate her in the University of Wisconsin, but poor child had to quit. +In summer we try to make a garden. Some of the neighbors take in washing +and they give me ironing to do. Friends bring in fresh bread when they +bake. It takes all my granddaughter makes to keep up the mortgage and +pay all the rest. She don't have clothes decent to go. + +I have about sold the last of the antiques. In old days the mistress +used to give my mother the dishes left from broken sets, odd vases and +such. I had some beautiful things, but one by one have sold them to +antique dealers to get something to help out with. My church gives me a +donation every fifth Sunday of a collection for benefit. Sometimes it is +as much as $2.50 and that sure helps on the groceries. Today I bought +four cents worth of beans and one cent worth of onions. I say you have +to cut the garment according to the cloth. You ain't even living from +hand to mouth, if the hand don't have something in it to put to the +mouth. + +No ma'am, we couldn't get on relief, account of this child teaching. One +relief worker did come to see us. She was a case worker, she said. She +took down all I told her about our needs and was about ready to go when +she saw my seven hens in the yard. "Whose chickens out there?" she +asked. "I keep a few hens," I told her. "Well," she hollered, "anybody +that's able to keep chickens don't need to be on relief roll," and she +gathered up her gloves and bag and left. + +Yes ma'am, I filed for old age pension, too. It was in April, 1935 I +filed. When a year passed without hearing, I took my husband down so +they could see just how he is not able to work. They told me not to +bring him any more. Said I would get $10.00 a month. Two years went, and +I never got any. I went by myself then, and they said yes, yes, they +have my name on file, but there is no money to pay. There must be +millions comes in for sales tax. I don't know where it all goes. Of +course the white folks get first consideration. Colored folks always has +to bear the brunt. They just do, and that's all there is to it. + +What do I think of the younger generation? I wouldn't speak for all. +There are many types, just like older people. It has always been like +that, though. If all young folks were like my granddaughter--I guess +there is many, too. She does all the sewing, and gardening. She paints +the house, makes the draperies and bed clothing. She can cook and do all +our laundry work. She understands raising chickens for market but just +don't have time for that. She is honest and clean in her life. + +Yes ma'am, I did vote once, a long time ago. You see, I wasn't old +enough at first, after freedom, when all the colored people could vote. +Then, for many years, women in Arkansas couldn't vote, anyhow. I can +remember when M.W. Gibbs was Police Judge and Asa Richards was a colored +alderman. No ma'am! The voting law is not fair. It's most unfair! We +colored folks have to pay just the same as the white. We pay our sales +tax, street improvement, school tax, property tax, personal property +tax, dog license, automobile license--they what have cars--; we pay +utility tax. And we should be allowed to vote. I can tell you about +three years ago a white lady come down here with her car on election day +and ask my old husband would he vote how she told him if she carried him +to the polls. He said yes and she carried him. When he got there they +told him no colored was allowed to vote in that election. Poor old man, +she didn't offer to get him home, but left him to stumble along best he +could. + +I'm glad if I been able to give you some help. You've been patient with +an old woman. I can tell you that every word I have told you is true as +the gospel. + + + + +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--Julia White, 3003 Cross Street, Little +Rock. + +2. Date and time of interview-- + +3. Place of interview--3003 Cross 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-- + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.-- + + +Personal History of informant + +1. Ancestry-- + +2. Place and date of birth--Little Rock, Arkansas, 1858 + +3. Family--Two children + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Little Rock all her life. + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates-- + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview--She tells of accomplishments made +by the Negro race. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"I was born right here in Little Rock, Arkansas, eighty years ago on the +corner of Fifth and Broadway. It was in a little log house. That used to +be out in the woods. At least, that is where they told me I was born. I +was there but I don't remember it. The first place I remember was a +house on Third and Cumberland, the southwest corner. That was before the +war. + +"We were living there when peace was declared. You know, my father hired +my mother's time from James Moore. He used to belong to Dick Galloway. I +don't know how that was. But I know he put my mother in that house on +Third and Cumberland while she was still a slave. And we smaller +children stayed in the house with mother, and the larger children worked +on James Moore's plantation. + +"My father was at that time, I guess, you would call it, a porter at +McAlmont's drug store. He was a slave at that time but he worked there. +He was working there the day this place was taken. I'll never forget +that. It was on September 10th. We were going across Third Street, and +there was a Union woman told mamma to bring us over there, because the +soldiers were about to attack the town and they were going to have a +battle. + +"I had on a pair of these brogans with brass plates on them, and they +were flapping open and I tripped up just as the rebel soldiers were +running by. One of them said, "There's a like yeller nigger, les take +her." Mrs. Farmer, the Union woman ran out and said, "No you won't; +that's my nigger." And she took us in her house. And we stayed there +while there was danger. Then my father came back from the drug store, +she said she didn't see how he kept from being killed. + +"At that time, there were about four houses to the block. On the place +where we lived there was the big house, with many rooms, and then there +was the barn and a lot of other buildings. My father rented that place +and turned the outbuildings into little houses and allowed the freed +slaves to live in them till they could find another place. + +"My husband was an orphan child, and the people he was living with were +George Phelps and Ann Phelps. They were freed slaves. That was after the +war. They came here and had this little boy with them, that is how I +come to meet that gentlemen over there and get acquainted with him. When +they moved away from there Phelps was caretaker of the Oakland Cemetery. +We married on the twenty-seventh day of March, 1879. I still have the +marriage license. I married twice; my first husband was George W. Glenn +and my maiden name was Jackson. I married the first time June 10, 1875. +I had two children in my first marriage. Both of than are dead. Glenn +died shortly after the birth of the last child, February 15, 1878. + +"Mr. White is a mighty good man. He is put up with me all these years. +And he took mighty good care of my children, them by my first husband as +well as his own. When I was a little girl, he used to tell me that he +wouldn't have me for a wife. After we were married, I used to say to +him, 'You said you wouldn't have me, but I see you're mighty glad to get +me.' + +"I have the marriage license for my second marriage. + +"There's quite a few of the old ones left. Have you seen Mrs. Gillam, +and Mrs. Stephen, and Mrs. Weathers? Cora Weathers? Her name is Cora not +Clora. She's about ninety years old. She's at least ninety years old. +You say she says that she is seventy-four. That must be her insurance +age. I guess she is seventy-four at that; she had to be seventy-four +before she was ninety. When I was a girl, she was a grown woman. She was +married when my husband went to school. That has been more than sixty +years ago, because we've been married nearly sixty years. My sister Mary +was ten years older than me, and Cora Weathers was right along with her. +She knew my mother. When these people knew my mother they've been here, +because she's been dead since '94 and she would have been 110 if she had +lived. + +"My mother used to feed the white prisoners--the Federal soldiers who +were being held. They paid her and told her to keep the money because it +was Union Money. You know at that time they were using Confederate +money. My father kept it. He had a little box or chest of gold and +silver money. Whenever he got any paper money, he would change it into +gold or silver. + +"Mother used to make these ginger cakes--they call 'em stage planks. My +brother Jimmie would sell them. The men used to take pleasure in trying +to cheat him. He was so clever they couldn't. They never did catch him +napping. + +"Somebody burnt our house; it was on a Sunday evening. They tried to say +it caught from the chimney. We all like to uv burnt up. + +"My father was a carpenter, whitewasher, anything. He was a common +laborer. We didn't have contractors then like we do now. Mother worked +out in service too. Jimmie was the oldest boy. He taught school too. + +"My father set the first table that was ever set in the Anthony Hotel, +he was the cause of the first stove being brought here to cook on. + +"Some of the children of the people that raised my mother are still +living. They are Beebes. Roswell Beebe was a little one. They had a +colored man named Peter and he was teaching Roswell to ride and the pony +ran away. Peter stepped out to stop him and Roswell said, 'Git out of +the way Peter, and let Billie Button come'. + +"I get some commodities from the welfare. But I don't get nothing like a +pension. My husband worked at the Missouri Pacific shops for fifty-two +years, and he don't git nothing neither. It was the Iron Mountain when +he first went there on June 8, 1879. He was disabled in 1932 because of +injuries received on the job in March, 1931. But they hurried him out of +the hospital and never would give him anything. That Monday morning, +they had had a loving cup given them for not having had accidents in the +plant. And at three p.m., he was sent into the hospital. He had a fall +that injured his head. They only kept him there for two days and two +hours. He was hurt in the head. Dr. Elkins himself came after him and +let him set around in the tool room. He stayed there till he couldn't do +nothing at all. + +"In 1881, he got his eye hurt on the job in the service of the Missouri +Pacific. It was the Iron Mountain then. He was off about three or four +months. They didn't pay his wages while he was off. They told him they +would give him a lifetime job, but they didn't. His eye gave him trouble +for the balance of his life. Sometimes it is worse than others. He had +to go to the St. Louis Hospital quite often for about three or four +years. + +"When the house on Third and Cumberland was burnt, he rebuilded it, and +the owners charged him such rent he had to move. He rebuilt it for five +hundred dollars and was to get pay in rent. The owners jumped the rent +up to twenty-five dollars a month. That way it soon took up the five +hundred dollars. Then we moved to Eighth and Main. My brother Jimmie was +in an accident there. + +"He was pouring powder on a fire from an old powder horn and the flames +jumped up in the horn and exploded and crippled his hand and burnt his +face. Dr. Duel, a right young doctor, said he could cure them if father +would pay him fifty dollars a piece. My sister was burnt at the same +time as my brother. He had them make a thin dough, and put it over their +faces and he cut pieces out for their eyes, and nose, and mouth. They +left that dough on their faces and chest till the dough got hard and +peeled off by itself. It left the white skin. Gradually the face got +back to itself and took its right color again, so you couldn't tell they +had ever been burnt. The only medicine the doctor gave them was Epsom +salts. Fifty dollars for each child. I used that remedy on a school boy +once and cured him, but I didn't charge him nothing. + +"I have a program which was given in 1874. They don't give programs like +that now. People wouldn't listen that long. We each of us had two and +three, and some of us had six and seven parts to learn. We learnt them +and recited them and came back the next night to give a Christmas Eve +program. You can make a copy of it if you want. + +"A.C. Richmond is Mrs. Childress' brother. Anna George is Bee Daniels' +mother (Bee Daniels is Mrs. Anthony, a colored public school teacher +here). Corinne Jordan is living on Gaines between Eighth and Ninth +streets. She is about seventy-five years old now. She was about Mollie's +age and I was about five years older than Molly. Mary Riley is C.C. +Riley's sister. C.C. Riley is Haven Riley's father. C.C. is dead now. +Haven Riley was a teacher, at Philander Smith, for a while. He's a +stenographer now. August Jackson and J.W. Jackson are my brothers. W.O. +Emory became one of our pastors at Wesley. John Bush, everybody's heard +of him. He had the Mosaic temple and got a big fortune together before +he died, but his children lost it all. Annie Richmond is Annie +Childress, the wife of Professor E.C. Childress, the State Supervisor. +Corinne Winfrey turned out to be John Bush's wife. Willie Lane married +W.O. Emery. Scipio Jordan became the big man in the Tabernacle. H.H. +Gilkey went to the post office. He married Lizzie Hull. She's living +still too." + + +Extra Comment + +The marriage license which Mrs. White showed me, was issued March 27, +1879, by A.W. Worthen, County Clerk, per W.H.W. Booker to Julia Glen and +J.R. White. It carries the name of Reverend W.H. Crawford who was the +Pastor of Wesley Chapel Church at that time. The license was issued in +Pulaski County. + + + +GRAND ENTERTAINMENT AT WESLEY CHAPEL +Wednesday Evening, Dec'r. 23, 1874 + + * * * * * + +PROGRAMME + + +Part I + +Address by the General Manager Mr. A.C. Richmond + +Song--We Come Today By the School + +Prayer Rev. William Henry Crawford + +Declamation--My Mother's Bible Miss Annie George + +Dialogue--Three Little Graves Miss M. Upshaw and + Miss M.A. Scruggs + +Dialogue--About Heaven Miss Julia Jackson and + Miss Alice Richardson + +Declamation--Mud Pie Miss Amelia Rose + +Declamation--Ducklins and Miss Goren Jordan + Ducklins + +Dialogue--The Beggar Mr. H.H. Gilkey and + Mr. W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Work While Master Albert Pryor + You Work + +Dialogue--The Miser Mr. C.C. Riley and + Mr. Charles Hurtt, Jr. + +Declamation--Pretty Pictures Miss Cally Sanders + +Declamation--Into the Sunshine Miss Mollie Jackson + +Song--Joy Bells By the School + +Dialogue--Sharp Shooting Master Asa Richmond, + Scipio Jordan, + and Miss Laura A. Morgan + +Declamation--What I Know Master Morton Hurtt + +Declamation--The Side to Look On Miss Dora Frierson + +Dialogue--The Tattler Miss Mary Alexander, + Miss M.A. Scrugg, + Miss Mary Rose + +Declamation--Little Clara Miss Rebecca Ferguson + +Dialogue--John Williams' Choice Scipio Jordan, H.H. Gilkey + and Julia Jackson + +Declamation--A Good Rule + Miss Lilly Pryor + +Declamation--Complaint of the Poor + Miss Riley + +Dialogue--The Examination + L.H. Haney, Jackson Crawford + and John Richmond + +THE END. + + +Part II. + +Dialogue--The Maniac + +Miss Willie Lane, A.C. Richmond, + Rafe May, and Master A. Pryon + +Dialogue--Father, Dear Father; + or The Fruits of Drunkenness + +John E. Bush, W.A.M. Cypers, + Wm. Emery, Miss Coren Winfrey, + Miss Maggie Green, and others. + +Dialogue--An Awakening + +Miss Mollie Pryor and + Miss Annie Richmond + +Dialogue--Betsy and I are out + +Alex. Scruggs and W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Lily of the Valley + +Miss Mary Foster + +Dialogue--Hasty Judgment + +C.C. Riley, A.C. Richmond, + Cypers and Haney + +Declamation--The Little Shooter + +Master August Jackson + +Dialogue--Practical Lesson + +Miss Julia Jackson, and August Jackson + +Declamation--Bird and the Baby + +Miss Julia Foster + +Dialogue--Scenes in the Police Court + +Richmond, Bush, and Emery + +Ballad--Yankee Doodle Dandy + +J.E. Bush + + +Part III + +Dialogue--Colloquy in Church + +Alice Richardson and Mollie + +Declamation--Lucy Gray + +Miss Alice Moore + +Dialogue--Matrimony + +Miss Willie Lane, M.A. Scruggs, + Mary Alexander, Mr. C.C. Riley + +Dialogue--Traveler + +Morton Hurtt and Scipio Jordan + +Declamation--Truth in Parenthesis + +Alice Moore. + +Dialogue--Forty Years Ago Ales, Scruggs, and J.P. Winfrey + +Declamation--The Last Footfall Lizzie Hull + +Declamation--Gone with a John E. Bush, Miss Maggie Green, + Handsomer Man than Me and H.G. Clay + +Declamation--Golden Side Annie Richmond + +Declamation--The Union was Swan Jeffries + saved by the Colored + Volunteers + +Dialogue--Relief Aid Saving Maggie Scruggs, Mary Ross, + Society Lizzie Hull, Alice Moore, + Mary Alexander, Mollie Pryor, + Annie Fairchild, Lizzie Wind, + Julia Jackson, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Song-Dutch Band A.C. Richardson, Wm. Emery, + J.H. Haney, W.A.M. Cypers, + J.O. Alexander, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Declamation--Number One Alice Richardson + +Declamation--What to Wear, and Miss Coren Winfrey + How to Wear It + +Dialogue--A Desirable J.E. Bush, J.W. Jackson, + A.C. Richmond + +Dialogue-The Little Bill Marion Henderson, J.E. Bush, + Miss Willie Lane, Miss Laura A. + Morgan, Asa Richmond, Jr. + +Dialogue--Country Aunt's Visit Henry Jackson, Misses Allice and + Julia Crawford, Maggie Howell, + Julia Jackson + +Dialogue--Beauty and the Beast Marion Henderson, Julia Jackson, + (six Scenes) Laura Morgan, Mary Scruggs, + Mary Ross, Coren Winfrey, + Willie Lane, Lizzie Wind, + Alice Crawford, J.E. Bush, + J.P. Winfrey + +Dialogue--How not to Get M.A. Scruggs and Mary Alexander + and Answer + +Declamation--The Incidents of John Richmond + Travel + + * * * * * + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This program was given on one night, and the participants doubled right +back the next night on another lengthy program celebrating Christmas Eve. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Julia White (Continued) + 3003 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"The Commissary was on the northeast corner of Third and Cumberland. +They used to call it the government commissary building. It took up a +whole half block. Mrs. Farmer, the white woman, was living in what you +call the old Henderliter Place, the building on the northwest corner, +during the War. She was a Union woman, and was the one that took us in +when the Confederate soldiers were passing and wanted to take us to +Texas with them. + +"I was so small I didn't know much about things then. When peace was +declared a preacher named Hugh Brady, a white man, came here and he had +my mother and father to marry over again. + +"Mrs. Stephens' father was one of the first school-teachers here for +colored people. There were a lot of white people who came here from the +North to teach. Peabody School used to be called the Union School. Mrs. +Stephens has the first report of the school dated 1869. It gives the +names of the directors and all. J.H. Benford was one of the Northern +teachers. Anna Ware and Louise Coffman and Miss Henley were teachers +too. + +"Mrs. Stephens is the oldest colored teacher in Little Rock. The A-B-C +children didn't want the old men to teach us. So they would teach +'Lottie'--she was only twelve years old then--and she would hear our +lessons. Then at recess time, we would all get out and play together. +She was my play mama. Her father, William Wallace Andrews, the first +pastor of Wesley Chapel M.E. Church, was the head teacher and Mr. Gray +was the other. They were teaching in Wesley Chapel Church. It was then +on Eighth and Broadway. This was before Benford's time. It was just +after peace had been declared. I don't know where Andrews come from nor +how much learning he had. Most of the people then got their learning +from white children. But I don't know where he got his. + +"Wesley was his first church as far as I know. Before the War all the +churches were in with the white people. After freedom, they drew out. +Whether Wesley was his first church or not, he was Wesley's first +pastor. I got a history of the church." + +"They had a real Sunday-school in those days. My sister when she was a +child about twelve years old said three hundred Bible verses at one time +and received a book as a prize. The book was named 'A Wonderful +Deliverance' and other Stories, printed by the American Tract Society, +New York, 150 Nassau Street. My sister's name was Mollie Jackson." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Lucy White, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +"I was born on Jim Banks' place close to Felton. His wife named Miss +Puss. Mama and all of young master's niggers was brought from +Mississippi. I reckon it was 'fore I was born. Old master name Mack +Banks. I never heard mama say but they was good to my daddy. They had a +great big place in Mississippi and a good big place over here. + +"I recollect seeing the soldiers prance 'long the road. I thought they +looked mighty pretty. Their caps and brass buttons and canteens shining +in the sun. They rode the prettiest horses. One of 'em come in our house +one day. He told Miss Puss he was goiner steal me. She say, 'Don't take +her off.' He give me a bundle er bread and I run in the other room and +crawled under the bed 'way back in the corner. It was dark up under +there. I didn't eat the bread then but I et it after he left. It sure +was good. I didn't recollect much but seeing them pass the road. I like +to watch 'em. My parents was field folks. I worked in the field. I was +raised to work. I keep my clothes clean. I washed 'em. I cooked and +washed and ironed and done field work all. When I first recollect +Marianna, Mr. Lon Tau and Mr. Free Landing (?) had stores here. Dr. +Steven (Stephen?) and Dr. Nunnaly run a drug store here. There was a big +road here. Folks started building houses here and there. They called the +town Mary Ann fo' de longest time. + +"Well, the white folks told 'am, 'You free.' My folks worked on fer +about twenty years. They'd give 'em a little sompin outer dat crap. They +worked all sorter ways--that's right--they sure did. They rented and +share cropped together I reckon after the War ended. + +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. I heard 'bout 'em other places. + +"I never voted and I never do 'sepect to now. What I know 'bout votin'? + +"Well, I tell you, these young folks is cautions. They don't think so +but they is. Lazy, no'count, spends every cent they gits in their hands. +Some works, some work hard. They drink and carouse about all night +sometimes. No ma'am, I did not do no sich er way. I woulder been ashamed +of myself. I would. Times what done run away wid us all now. I don't +know what to look fer now but I know times changing all the time. + +"I gets ten dollars and some little things to eat along. I say it do +help out. I got rheumatism and big stiff j'ints (enlarged wrist and +knuckles)." + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden. +Person interviewed: David Whiteman (c) +Age: 88 +Home: 104 N. Kansas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas. + + +"How de do lady. Oh yes, I was a pretty good sized boy when the war +started. My old marster was sponsible Smith. My young marster was his +son-in-law. I member 'bout the Yankees and the "Revels". I member when a +great big troop of 'em went to war. Some of 'em was cryin' and some was +laughin'. I tried to get young marster to let me go with him, but he +wouldn't let me. Old marster was too old to go and his son dodged around +and didn't go either. I member he caught hisself a wild mustang and tied +hisself on it and rode off and they never did see him again. + +"I know when they was fightin' we use to hear the balls when they was +goin' over. I used to pick up many a ball. + +"I wish my recollection was with me like it used to be." (At this point +his wife spoke up and said "Seems like since he had the flu, his mind is +kinda frazzled.") + +"Yes'm, I member the Ku Klux. They used to have the colored folks +dodgin' around tryin' to keep out of their way." + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person Interviewed: Dolly Whiteside (c) +Age: 81 +Home: 103 Oregon Street, Pine Bluff, Ark. + + +"I reckon I did live in slavery times--look at my hair. + +"I been down sick--I been right low and they didn't speck me to live. + +"Well, I'll tell you. I was old enough to know when they runned us to +Texas so the Yankees couldn't overtaken us. We was in Texas when freedom +come, I remember I was sittin on the fence when the soldiers in them +blue uniforms with gold buttons come. He said, "I come to tell you you +is free". I didn't know what it was all about but everybody was sayin' +"Thank God". I thought it was the judgment day and I was lookin' for +God. I said to myself, I'm goin' have some buttons like that some day. + +"Colonel Williams was my marster. My mother was a nurse and took care of +the colored folks when they was sick. I remember when people wasn't +given nothin' but blue mass, calomel, castor oil and gruel, and every +body was healthier than they is now. + +"I'm the only one livin' that my mother birthed in this world. I was +born here, but I been travelin', I been to Memphis and around. + +"No mam, I don't remember nothin' else. I done tole you all I know." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: J.W. Whitfield + 3100 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 60 +Occupation: Preacher + + +"My father's name was Luke Whitfield. He was sixty-three years old when +he died in 1902. He was twenty-six years old when the Civil War ended. +He was a slave. There were three other boys in the family besides him. +No girls. + +"His old mars' name was Bill Carraway. They lived at Nubian [HW: New +Bern], North Carolina. + +"My father said that his work in slavery time was blacksmithing. He had +to fix the wagons and the plow too. He said that was his work during the +Civil War too. He worked in the Confederate army too. + +"I remember him saying how they whipped him when he ran off. The +overseer got after him to whip him and he and one of his friends ran +off. As they jumped over the fence to go into the woods the old mars hit +my daddy with a cat-o-nine tails. You see, they took a strap of harness +leather and cut it into four thongs and then they took another and cut +it into five thongs, and they tied them together. When you got one blow +you got nine and when you got five blows you got forty-five. As his old +mars hit him, he said. 'I got him one, sir; it was a good one too, sir, +and a go-boy.'[HW: ?] But it was nine. + +"My father told me how they married in slavery times. They didn't count +marriage like they do now. If one landowner had a girl and another +wanted that girl for one of his men, they would give him her to wife. +When a boy-child was born out of this marriage they would reserve him +for breeding purposes if he was healthy and robust. But if he was puny +and sickly they were not bothered about him. Many a time if the boy was +desirable, he was put on the stump and auctioned off by the time he was +thirteen years old. They called that putting him on the block. Different +ones would come and bid for him and the highest bidder would get him. + +"My father spoke of a pass. That was when they wanted to see the girls +they would have to get a pass from the old mars. My father would speak +to his mars and get a pass. If he didn't have a pass, the other mars +would give him a whipping and sent him back. I told you about how they +whipped them. They used to use those cat-o-nine tails on them when they +didn't have a pass. + +"They lived in a log cabin dobbed with dirt and their clothes were woven +on a loom. They got the cotton, spun it on the spinning-wheel, wove it +on the loom on rainy days. The women spun the thread and wove the cloth. +For the boys from five to fifteen years old, they would make long shirts +out of this cloth. The shirts had deep scallops in them. Then they would +take the same cloth and dye it with indigo and make pants out of it. The +boys never wore those pants in the field. No young fellow wore pants +until he began to court. + +"My mother was a girl that was sold in Lenoir County, near Kenston, [HW: +Kinston?] North Carolina. My father met her in a place called Buford, +[HW: Beaufort? Carteret Co.] North Carolina. My father was sold several +times. The owner sold her to his owner and they jumped over a broomstick +and were married. My daddy's mars bought my mother for him. Her name was +Penny." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sarah Whitmore, Clarendon, Arkansas +Age: 100 + + +_Note_--The interviewer found this ex-slave in small quarters. The bed, +the room and the Negro were filthy. A fire burned in an ironing bucket, +mostly papers and trash for fuel. During the visit of the interviewer a +white girl brought a tray with a measuring cup of coffee and two slices +of bread with butter and fruit spread between. When asked where she got +her dinner she said "The best way I can" meaning somebody might bring it +to her. Her hands are too stiff and shaky to cook. Her eye sight is so +bad she cannot clean her room. Two WPA county visitors, girls, bathe her +at intervals. + +"I was born between Jackson and Brandon. Sure I was born down in +Mississippi. My mother's name they tole me was Rosie. She died when I +was a baby. My father named Richard Chamber. They called him Dick. He +was killed direckly after the war by a white man. He was a Rebel scout. +The man named Hodge. I seed him. He shot my father. Them questions been +called over to me so much I most forgot 'em. Well some jes' lack 'em. My +father's master was Hal Chambers and his wife Virginia. Recken I do +'member the Ku Klux. They scared me to death. I go under the bed every +time when I see them about. Then was when my father was killed. He went +off with a crowd of white men. They said they was Rebel scouts. All I +know I never seed him no more since that evening. They killed him across +the line, not far from Mississippi. Chambers had two or three farms. I +was on the village farm. I had one brother. Chambers sent him to the +salt works and I never seed him no more. I was a orphant. + +"Chambers make you work. I worked in the field. I come wid a crowd to +Helena. I come on a boat. I been a midwife to black and white. I used to +cook some. I am master hand at ironin'. I have no children as I knows +of. I never born none. I help raise some. I come on a fine big steamboat +wid a crowd of people. I married in Arkansas. My husband died ten or +twelve years ago. I forgot which years it was. I been livin' in this +bery house seben years. + +"The Government give me $10 a month. I would wash dishes but I can't see +'bout gettin' 'round no more. + +"Don't ax me 'bout the young niggers. They too fast fo me. If I see 'em +they talkin' a passel of foolish talk. Whut I knows is times is hard wid +me shows you born. + +"You come back to see me. If you don't I wanter meet you all in heaben. +By, by, by." + + + + +Interviewer: Watt McKinney +Person interviewed: Dock Wilborn + A mile or so from Marvell, Arkansas +Age: 95 + + +Dock Wilborn was born a slave near Huntsville, Alabama on January 7, +1843, the property of Dan Wilborn who with his three brothers, Elias, +Sam, and Ike, moved to Arkansas and settled near Marvell in Phillips +County about 1855. + +According to "Uncle Dock" the four Wilborn brothers each owning more +than one hundred slaves acquired a large body of wild, undeveloped land, +divided this acreage between them and immediately began to erect +numerous log structures for housing themselves, their Negroes, and their +stock, and to deaden the timber and clear the land preparatory to +placing their crops the following season. The Wilborns arrived in +Arkansas in the early fall of the year and for several months they +camped, living in tents until such time that they were able to complete +the erection of their residences. Good, substantial, well constructed +and warm cabins were built in which to house the slaves, much better +buildings "Uncle Dock" says than those in which the average Negro +sharecropper lives today on Southern cotton plantations. And these +Negroes were given an abundance of the same wholesome food as that +prepared for the master's family in the huge kettles and ovens of the +one common kitchen presided over by a well-trained and competent cook +and supervised by the wife of the master. + +During the period of slavery the more apt and intelligent among those of +the younger Negroes were singled out and given special training for +those places in which their talents indicated they would be most useful +in the life of the plantation. Girls were trained in housework, cooking, +and in the care of children while boys were taught blacksmithing, +carpentrying, and some were trained for personal servants around the +home. Some were even taught to read and to write when it was thought +that their later positions would require this learning. + +According to "Uncle Dock" Wilborn, slaves were allowed to enjoy many +pleasures and liberties thought by many in this day, especially by the +descendants of these slaves, not to have been accorded them, were +entirely free of any responsibility aside from the performance of their +alloted labors and speaking from his own experience received kind and +just treatment at the hands of their masters. + +The will of the master was the law of the plantation and prompt +punishment was administered for any violation of established rules and +though a master was kind, he was of necessity invariably firm in the +administration of his government and in the execution of his laws. +Respect and obedience was steadfastly required and sternly demanded, +while indolence and disrespect was neither tolerated or permitted. + +In refutation to often repeated expressions and beliefs that slaves were +cruelly treated, provided with insufficient food and apparel and +subjected to inhuman punishment, it is pointed out by ex-slaves +themselves that they were at that time very valuable property, worth on +the market no less than from one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars +each for a healthy, grown Negro and that it is unreasonable to suppose +that these slaveowners did not properly safeguard their investments with +the befitting care and attention such valuable property demanded or that +these masters would by rule or action bring about any condition +adversely effecting the health, efficiency or value of their slaves. + +The spiritual and religious needs of the slaves received the attention +of the same minister who attended the like needs of the master and his +family, and services were often conducted on Sunday afternoons +exclusively for them at which times the minister exhorted his +congregation to live lives of righteousness and to be at all times +obedient, respectful and dutiful servants in the cause of both their +earthly and heavenly masters. + +In the days of slavery, on occasion of the marriage of a couple in which +the participants were members of slave-owning families, it was the +custom for the father of each to provide the young couple with several +Negroes, the number of course depending on the relative wealth or +affluence of their respective families. It seems, however, that no less +than six or eight grown slaves were given in most instances as well as a +like number of children from two to four years of age. This provision on +the part of the parents of the newly-wedded pair was for the purpose as +"Uncle Dock" expressed it to give them a "start" of Negroes. The +children were not considered of much value at such an age and the young +master and his wife found themselves possessed with the responsibility +attached to their proper care and rearing until such time as they +reached the age at which they could perform some useful labor. These +responsibilities were bravely accepted and such children received the +best of care and attention, being it is said often kept in a room +provided for than in the master's own house where their needs could be +administered to under the watchful eye and supervision of their owners. +The food given these young children according to informants consisted +mainly of a sort of gruel composed of whole milk and bread made of whole +wheat flour which was set before them in a kind of trough and from which +they ate with great relish and grew rapidly. + +Slaveowners, as a rule, arranged for their Negroes to have all needed +pleasure and enjoyment, and in the late summer after cultivation of the +crops was complete it was the custom for a number of them to give a +large barbecue for their combined groups of slaves, at which huge +quantities of beef and pork were served and the care-free hours given +over to dancing and general merry-making. "Uncle Dock" recalls that his +master, Dan Wilborn, who was a good-natured man of large stature, +derived much pleasure in playing his "fiddle" and that often in the +early summer evenings he would walk down to the slave quarters with his +violin remarking that he would supply the music and that he wished to +see his "niggers" dance, and dance they would for hours and as much to +the master's own delight and amusement as to theirs. + +Dock Wilborn's "pappy" Sam was in some respects disobedient, prompted +mainly so it seems by his complete dislike for any form of labor and +which Dan Wilborn due to their mutual affection appeared to tolerate for +long periods or until such time that his patience was exhausted when he +would then apply his lash to Sam a few times and often after these +periodical punishments Sam would escape to the dense forests that +surrounded the plantation where he would remain for days or until +Wilborn would enlist the aid of Nat Turner and his hounds and chase the +Negro to bay and return him to his home. + +"Uncle Dock" Wilborn and his wife "Aunt Becky" are among the oldest +citizens of Phillips County and have been married for sixty-seven years. +Dan Wilborn performed their marriage ceremony. The only formality +required in uniting them as man and wife was that each jump over a broom +that had been placed on the floor between them. This old couple are the +parents of four children, the eldest of whom is now sixty-three. They +live alone in a small white-washed cabin only a mile or so from Marvell +being supported only by a small pension they receive each month from the +Social Security Board. They have a garden and a few chickens and a hog +or two and are happy and content as they dip their snuff and recall +those days long past during which they both contend that life was at its +best, "Aunt Becky" is religious and a staunch believer, a long-time +member of Mount Moriah Baptist Church while "Uncle Dock" who has never +been affiliated with any religious organization is yet as he terms +himself "a sinner man" and laughingly remarks that he is going to ride +into Heaven on "Aunt Becky's" ticket to which comment she promptly +replies that her ticket is good for only one passage and that if he +hopes to get there he must arrange for one of his own. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Bell Wilks, Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was raised in Pulaski, Tennessee, Giles County. The post office was +at one end of the town, bout half mile was the church down at the other +end. Yes'm, that way Pulaski looked when I lived there. My father's +master was Peter or Jerry Garn--I don't know which. They brothers? +Yes'm. + +"My mother's master was John Wilks and Miss Betty. Mama's name was +Callie Wilks and papa's name was Freeman. Mama had seven children. She +was a field hand. She said all on their place could do nearly anything. +They took turns cooking. Seems like it was a week about they took +milkin', doin' house work, field work, and she said sometimes they +sewed. + +"Father told my mother one day he was going to the Yankees. She didn't +want him to go much. He went. They mustered out drilling one day. He had +to squat right smart. He saw some cattle in the distance looked like +army way off. He fell dead. They said it was heart disease. They brought +him home and some of dem stood close to him drillin' told her that was +way it happened. + +"The man what owned my mother was sorter of a Yankee hisself. We all +stayed till he wound up the crop. He sold his place and went to Collyoka +on the L. and N. Railway. He give us two and one-half bushels corn, +three bushels wheat, and some meat at the very first of freedom. When it +played out we went and he give us more long as he stayed there. + +"When mama left she went to a new sorter mill town and cooked there till +1869. She carried me to a young woman to nurse for her what she nursed +at Mostor Wilks befo freedom. I stayed wid her till 1876. I sure does +remember dem dates. (laughed) + +"Yes'm, I was nursin' for Dr. Rothrock when that Ku Klux scare was all +bout. They coma to our house huntin' a boy. They didn't find him. I +cover up my head when they come bout our house. Some folks they scared +nearly to death. I bein' in a strange place don't know much bout what +all I heard they done. + +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for, let people vote know how. + +"I get bout $8 and some commodities. It sure do help me out too. I tell +you it sure do." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Bell Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 85 + + +"We was owned by Master Rucker. It seems I was about ten years old when +the Civil War started. It seems like a dream to me now. Mother was a +weaver. They said she was a fine weaver. She wove for all on the place +and some special pieces of cloth for outsiders. She wove woolen cloth +too. I don't know whether they paid for the extra weaving or not. People +didn't look on money like they do now. They was free with one another +about eating and visiting and work too when a man got behind with the +work. The fields get gone in the grass. Sometimes they would be sick or +it rained too much. The neighbor would send all his slaves to work till +they caught up and never charge a cent. I don't hear about people doing +that way now. + +"My parents was named Clinton and Billy Bell. There was nine of us +children. + +"I never seen nobody sold. Mother was darker. Papa was light--half +white. They didn't talk in front of children about things and I never +did know. I've wondered. + +"After freedom my folks stayed on at Master Rucker's. I got to be a +midwife. I nursed and was a house girl after the war. Then the doctors +got to sending for me to nurse and I got to be a midwife. + +"My father was a good Bible scholar. He preached all around +Murfreesboro, Tennessee. He was a Methodist. He died when he was +seventy-seven years old. He had read the Bible through seventy-seven +times--one time for every year old he was." + + + + +Mrs. Mildred Thompson +Mrs. Carol Graham +El Dorado District +Federal Writers Project +Union County, Arkansas + + +Charley Williams, Ex-slave. "Mawnin' Missy. Yo say wha Aint Fanny Whoolah +live? She live right down de road dar in dat fust house. Yas'm. Dat wha +she live. Yo say whut mah name? Mah name is Charley. Yas'm, Charley +Williams. Did ah live in slavery time? Yas'm sho' did. Mah marster wuz +Dr. Reed Williams and he live at Kew London (SE part of Union County) or +ah speck ah bettuh say near New London caise he live on de Mere-Saline +Road, de way de soldiers went and come. Marster died befo' de Civil Wah. +Does ah membah hit? Yas'm ah say ah does. Ah wuz bo'n in 1856. Mah ole +mutha died befo' de wah too. Huh name wuz Charity. Mah young marster +went tuh de wah an come back. He fit at Vicksburg an his name wuz Bennie +Williams. But he daid now tho. Dere was a hep uv dem white William +Chillun. Dere wuz Miss Narcissi an she am a livin now at Stong. Den +dere's Mr. Charley. Ah wuz named fuh him. He am a livin now too. Den +dere is Mr. Race Williams. He am a livin at Strong too. Dere wuz Miss +Annie, Miss Martha Jane and Miss Madie. Dey is all daid. When young +marster would come by home or any uv de udder soldiers us little niggers +would steal de many balls (bullets or shot) fum dey saddul bags and play +wid em. Ah nevah did see so many soldiers in mah life. Hit looked tuh me +like dey wuz enough uv em to reach clear cross de United States. An ah +nevah saw de like uv cows as they had. Dey wuz nuff uv em to rech clar +to Camden. + +Is ah evah been mahried and does ah have any chillun? Yes'm. Yas'm. Ah's +been mahried three times. Me an mah fust wife had seven chillun. When we +had six chillun me and mah wife moved tuh Kansas. We had only been der +23 days when mah wife birthed a chile and her an de chile both died. Dat +left me wid Carey Dee, Lizzie, Arthur, Richmond, Ollie and Lillie to +bring back home. Ah mahried agin an me an dat wife had one chile name +Robert. Me an mah third wife has three: Joe Verna, Lula Mae an Johnnie +B. + +Is dey hents? Ah've hearn tell uv em but nevah have seed no hants. One +uv mah friens whut lived on the Hommonds place at Hillsboro could see +em. His name wuz Elliott. One time me an Elliott wuz drivin along an +Elliott said: "Charley, somebody got hole uv mah horse!" Sho nuff dat +horse led right off inter de woods an comminced to buckin so Elliott and +his hoss both saw de haint but ah couldn' see hit. Yo know some people +jes caint see em. + +Yas'm right up dere is wha Aint Fannie live. Yas'm. Goodday Missy." + + +FOLK CUSTOMS + +We found Fannie Wheeler at home but not an ex-slave. She was making a +bedspread of tobacco sacks. + +"Yas'm chillun ah'm piecing mahsef a bedspraid from dese heah backy +sacks. Yas'm dey sho does make er nice spraid. See dat'n on mah baid. +Aint hit purty. Hit wuz made fum backy sacks. Don yo all think dat +yaller bodah (border) set hit off purty? Ah'm aimin to bodah dis'n wid +pink er blue. + +What am dat up dar in dat picture frame? Why dat am plaits of har +(hair). Hits uv mah kin and frien's. When we would move way off dey +would cut off a plait and give hit tuh us tuh membah dem by. Mos' uv dem +is daid now but ah still membahs dem and ah kin name evah plait now." + +We were told that Sallie Sims was an old negress and went to see her she +was not an ex-slave either but she told us an interesting little story +about + + +HAINTS and BODY MARKS + +"No'm, ah'm purty ole but ah wuz bo'n aftuh surrender. Is ah evah seen a +hant? Now ah nevah did but once and mah ma said dat wuz a hant. Ah wuz +out in de woods waukin (walking) an ah saw sumpin dat looked lak a +squirrel start up a tree and de fudder up hit got the bigger hit got an +hit wuz big as a bear when hit got to de top and ma said dat hit was a +haint. Dat is de only time ah evah seed one. + +Now mah granchillun can all see hants and mah little great gran' chile +too. An evah one uv dem wuz bo'n wid a veil ovah dey face. Now when a +chile is bo'n wid a veil ovah his face--if de veil is lifted up de sho +can see hants and see evah thing but if'n de veil is pulled down stid up +bein lifted up de won't see em. After de veil is pulled down an taken +off, wrap hit up in a tissue paper and put hit in de trunk and let hit +stay dar till hit disappear and de chile won't nevah see hants. Mah +grandaughter what lives up north in Missouri come down heah to visit mah +son's fambly an me ah an brang huh li'l boy wid huh. Dat chile is bout +seben years ole an dat chile could see hants all in de house an he +wouldn' go tuh baid till his gran'pappy come home an went tuh baid wid +him." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Charlie Williams + Brassfield; Ark. +Age: 73 + + +"I was born four miles from Holly Springs, Mississippi. My parents was +named Patsy and Tom Williams. They had twenty children. Nat Williams and +Miss Carrie Williams owned them both. They had four children. + +"At freedom he was nice as could be--wanted em to stay on with him and +they did. He didn't whip em. They liked that in him. His wife was dead +and he come out to Arkansas with us. He died at Lonoke--Mr. Tom Williams +at Lonoke. + +"I farmed nearly all my life. I worked on a steamboat on White River +five or six years--_The Ralph_. + +"I never saw a Ku Klux. Mr. Williams kept us well protected. + +"My mother's mother couldn't talk plain. My mother talked tolerably +plain. She was a 'Molly Glaspy' woman. My father had a loud heavy voice; +you could hear him a long ways off. + +"I have no home. I am a widower. I have no land. I get a small check and +commodities. + +"I vote. I haven't voted in a long time. I'm not educated to know how +that would serve us best." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Columbus Williams + Temporary: 2422 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas + Permanent: Box 12, Route 2, Ouachita County, Stevens, Arkansas +Age: 98 + + +"I was born in Union County, Arkansas, in 1841, in Mount Holly. + +"My mother was named Clora Tookes. My father's name is Jordan Tookes. +Bishop Tookes is supposed to be a distant relative of ours. I don't know +my mother and father's folks. My mother and father were both born in +Georgia. They had eight children. All of them are dead now but me. I am +the only one left. + +"Old Ben Heard was my master. He come from Mississippi, and brought my +mother and father with him. They were in Mississippi as well as in +Georgia, but they were born in Georgia. Ben Heard was a right mean man. +They was all mean 'long about then. Heard whipped his slaves a lot. +Sometimes he would say they wouldn't obey. Sometimes he would say they +sassed him. Sometimes he would say they wouldn't work. He would tie them +and stake them out and whip them with a leather whip of some kind. He +would put five hundred licks on them before he would quit. He would buy +the whip he whipped them with out of the store. After he whipped them, +they would put their rags on and go on about their business. There +wouldn't be no such thing as medical attention. What did he care. He +would whip the women the same as he would the men. + +"Strip 'em to their waist and let their rags hang down from their hips +and tie them down and lash them till the blood ran all down over their +clothes. Yes sir, he'd whip the women the same as he would the men. + +"Some of the slaves ran away, but they would catch them and bring them +back, you know. Put the dogs after them. The dogs would just run them up +and bay them just like a coon or 'possum. Sometimes the white people +would make the dogs bite them. You see, when the dogs would run up on +them, they would sometimes fight them, till the white people got there +and then the white folks would make the dogs bite them and make them +quit fighting the dogs. + +"One man run off and stayed twelve months once. He come back then, and +they didn't do nothin' to him. 'Fraid he'd run off again, I guess. + +"We didn't have no church nor nothing. No Sunday-schools, no nothin'. +Worked from Monday morning till Saturday night. On Sunday we didn't do +nothin' but set right down there on that big plantation. Couldn't go +nowhere. Wouldn't let us go nowhere without a pass. They had the +paterollers out all the time. If they caught you out without a pass, +they would give you twenty-five licks. If you outrun them and got home, +on your master's plantation, you saved yourself the whipping. + +"The black people never had no amusement. They would have an old +fiddle--something like that. That was all the music I ever seen. +Sometimes they would ring up and play 'round in the yard. I don't +remember the games. Sing some kind of old reel song. I don't hardly +remember the words of any of them songs. + +"Wouldn't allow none of them to have no books nor read nor nothin'. +Nothin' like that. They had corn huskin's in Mississippi and Georgia, +but not in Arkansas. Didn't have no quiltin's. Women might quilt some at +night. Didn't have nothin' to make no quilts out of. + +"The very first work I did was to nurse babies. After that when I got a +little bigger they carried me to the field--choppin' cotton. Then I went +to picking cotton. Next thing--pullin' fodder. Then they took me from +that and put me to plowin', clearin' land, splittin' rails. I believe +that is about all I did. You worked from the time you could see till the +time you couldn't see. You worked from before sunrise till after dark. +When that horn blows, you better git out of that house, 'cause the +overseer is comin' down the line, and he ain't comin' with nothin' in +his hand. + +"They weighed the rations out to the slaves. They would give you so many +pounds of meat to each working person in the family. The children didn't +count; they didn't git none. That would have to last till next Sunday. +They would give them three pounds of meat to each workin' person, I +think. They would give 'em a little meal too. That is all they'd give +'em. The slaves had to cook for theirselves after they come home from +the field. They didn't get no flour nor no sugar nor no coffee, nothin' +like that. + +"They would give the babies a little milk and corn bread or a little +molasses and bread when they didn't have the milk. Some old person who +didn't have to go to the field would give them somethin' to eat so that +they would be out of the way when the folks come out of the field. + +"The slaves lived in old log houses--one room, one door, _one window_, +one everything. There were _plenty windows_ though. There were windows +all [HW: ?] around the house. They had cracks that let in more air than +the windows would. They had plank floors. Didn't have no furniture. The +bed would have two legs and would have a hole bored in the side of the +house where the side rail would run through and the two legs would be +out from the wall. Didn't have no springs and they made out with +anything they could git for a mattress. Master wouldn't furnish them +nothin' of that kind. + +"The jayhawkers were white folks. They didn't bother we all much. That +was after the surrender. They go 'round here and there and git after +white folks what they thought had some money and jerk them 'round. They +were jus' common men and soldiers. + +"I was not in the army in the War. I was right down here in Union County +then. I don't know just when they freed me but it was after the War was +over. The old white man call us up to the house and told us now we was +free as he was; that if we wanted to stay with him it was all right, if +we didn't and wanted to go away anywheres, we could have the privilege +to do it. + +"Marriage wasn't like now. You would court a woman and jus' go on and +marry. No license, no nothing. Sometimes you would take up with a woman +and go on with her. Didn't have no ceremony at all. I have heard of them +stepping over a broom but I never saw it. Far as I saw there was no +ceremony at all. + +"When the slaves were freed they expected to get forty acres and a mule. +I never did hear of anybody gettin' it. + +"Right after the War, I worked on a farm with Ben Heard. I stayed with +him about three years, then I moved off with some other white folks. I +worked on shares. First I worked for half and he furnished a team. Then +I worked on third and fourth and furnished my own team. I gave the owner +a third of the corn and a fourth of the cotton and kept the rest. I kept +that up several years. They cheated us out of our part. If they +furnished anything, they would sure git it back. Had everything so high +you know. I have farmed all my life. Farmed till I got so old I +couldn't. I never did own my own farm. I just continued to rent. + +"I never had any trouble about voting. I voted whenever I wanted to. I +reckon it was about three years after the War when I began to vote. + +"I never went to school. One of the white boys slipped and learned me a +little about readin' in slave time. Right after freedom come, I was a +grown man; so I had to work. I married about four or five years after +the War. I was just married once. My wife is not living now. She's gone. +She's been dead for about twelve years. + +"I belong to the A.M.E. Church and my membership is in the New Home +Church out in the country in Ouachita County." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Frank Williams + County Hospital, ward eleven, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 100, or more + + +"I'm a hundred years old. I know I'm a hundred. I know from where they +told me. I don't know when I was born. + +"I been took down and whipped many a time because I didn't do my work +good. They took my pants down and whipped me just the same as if I'd +been a dog. Sometimes they would whip the people from Saturday night +till Monday morning. + +"I run off with the Yankees. I was young then. I was in the Civil War. I +don't know how long I stayed in the army. I ain't never been back home +since. I wish I was. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back home. + +"Mississippi was my home. I come up here with the Yankees and I ain't +never been back since. Laconia, Mississippi was the place I used to be +down there. I been wanting to go home, but I couldn't git off. I want to +git you to write there for me. I belong to the Baptist church. Write to +the elders of the church. I belong to the Mission Baptist Church on the +other side of Rock Creek here. + +"They just lived in log houses in slave time. + +"I want to go back home. They made me leave Laconia. + +"Pateroles!! Oh, my God!!! I know 'nough 'bout them. Child, I've heard +'em holler, 'Run, nigger, run! The pateroles will catch you.' + +"The jayhawkers would catch people and whip them. + +"I would be back home yet if they hadn't made me come away. + +"They didn't have no church in slavery time. They jus' had to hide +around and worship God any way they could. + +"I used to live in Laconia. I ain't been back there since the war. I +want to go back to my folks." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Frank Williams is like a man suffering from amnesia. He is the first old +man that I have interviewed whose memory is so far gone. He remembers +practically nothing. He can't tell you where he was born. He can't tell +you where he lived before he came to Little Rock. Only when his +associates mention some of the things he formerly told them can he +remember that little of his past that he does state in any remote +approach to detail. + +There is a strong emotional set which relates to his slave time +experiences. The emotion surges up in his mind at any mention of slave +time matters. But only the emotion remains. The details are gone +forever. Names, times, places, happenings are gone forever. He does not +even recall the name of his father, the name of his mother, or the name +of any of his relatives or masters, or old-time friends. No single +definite thing rises above the horizon of his mind and defines itself +clearly to him. + +And always after every sentence he utters, there rises the old refrain: +"I want to go back home. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back +home. I live in Laconia. They made me come away." And that is the +substance of the story he remembers. + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Gus Williams, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"Was you lookin' for me t'oder day? Sure, my name's Williams--Gus +Williams--not Wilson. Dey gits me mixed up wid dat young guy, Wilson. + +"Yes, I remembers you--sure--talks to yo' brother sometimes. + +"I was born in Chatham County, Georgia--Savannah is de county seat. My +marster's name was Jim Williams. Never seen my daddy cause de Yankees +carried him away durin' de War, took him away to de North. Old marster +was good to his slaves, I was told, but don't ricollect anything about +em. Of course I was too young. Was born on Christmas day, 1857--but I +don't see anything specially interestin' in bein' a Christmas present; +never got me nothin', and never will. + +"Was workin' on WPA--this big Tech. buildin'--but got laid off t'other +day. + +"My mamma brought us to Arkansas in 1885, but we stopped and lived for +several years in Tennessee. Worked for twelve years out of Memphis on +the old Anchor Line steamboats on de Mississippi, runnin' from St. Louis +to N'Orleans. Plenty work in dem days. + +"No, I ain't voted in a long time; can't afford to vote because I never +have the dollar. No dollar--no vote. Depression done fixed my votin'. + +"Jest me and my wife, but it takes pluggin' away to get along. We +belongs to the C.M.E. Church since 1915. I was janitor at the West Ward +School for seven years, and sure liked dat job. + +"Don't ask me anything about dese boys and gals livin' today. Much +difference in dem and de young folks livin' in my time as between me and +you. No dependence to be put in em. My _estimony_ is dat de black +servants today workin' for de whites learns things from dem white girls +dat dey never knowed before, and den goes home and does things dey never +done before. + +"Don't ricollect many of de old-time songs, but one was somep'n +like--"Am I Born to Die?" And--oh, yes,--lots of times we sung 'Amazin' +Grace, how sweet de soun' dat saves a _race_ like me.' + +"No suh, I ain't got no education--never had a chance to git one." + + +NOTE: The underscored words are actual quotations. "Estimony" for +"opinion" was a characteristic in Gus' vocabulary; "race" for the +original "wretch" in the song may have been a general error in some +local congregations. + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson +Person interviewed: Henrietta Williams + B. Avenue, El Dorado, Arkansas +Age: About 82 + + +"I am about 82 years old. I was born in Georgia down in the cotton +patch. I did not know much about slavery, for I was raised in the white +folks' house, and my old mistress called me her little nigger, and she +didn't allow me to be whipped and drove around. I remember my old master +whipped me one time and old mistress fussed with him so much he never +did whip me any more. + +"I never had to get out and do any real hard work until I was nearly +grown. My mother did not have but one child. My father was sold from my +mother when I was about two years old and he was carried to Texas and I +did not see him any more until I was 35 years old. So my mother married +again when she was set free. I didn't stay with my mother very much. She +stayed off in a little log house with a dirt floor, and she cooked on +the fireplace with a skillet and lid, and the house had one window with +a shutter. She had to cut logs and roll them like a man and split rails +and plow. I would sometimes ask old mistress to let me go out where my +mother was working to see her plow and when I got to be a big girl about +nine years she began learning me how to plow. + +"I often told the niggers the white folks raised me. The niggers tell +me, 'Yes, the white folks raise you but the niggers is going to kill +you.' + +"After freedom my mistress and master moved to Louisiana. They farmed. +They owned a big plantation. I did the housework. + +"The biggest snow I remember was the big centennial snow. Oh, that's +been years ago. The snow was so deep you couldn't get out of the house. +The boys had to take the shovel and the hoe and keep the snow raked away +from around the door. + +"There was a big old oak tree that stood in the corner of the yard. +People say that tree was a hundred years old. We could not get no wood, +so master had the boys to cut the big old oak tree for wood. + +"Rabbits had a scant time. The boys would go out and track six or eight +rabbits at a time. We had rabbits of all descriptions. We had rabbits +for breakfast, rabbits for dinner, rabbits for supper time. We had fried +rabbits, baked rabbits, stewed rabbits, boiled rabbits. Had rabbits, +rabbits, rabbits the whole six or eight weeks the snow stayed on the +ground. + +"I remember when I was about twelve years old a woman had two small +children. She went away from home and for fear that the children would +get hurt on the outside she put them in the house and locked the door. +In some way they got a match and struck it and the house caught fire. +All the neighbors were a long ways off and by the time they reched the +house it had fallen in. Finally the mother came and looked for her +children and asked the neighbors did they save them. They said no, they +did not know they were in the house. In fact they were too late anyway. +So the fire was still hot and they had to wait for the ashes to cool and +when the ashes got cool they went looking for the children and found the +burned buttons that were on their little clothes, so they began raking +around in the ashes and at last found each of their little hearts that +had not burned, but the little hearts were still jumping and the man who +found the hearts picked them up in his hand and stood speechless. He +became so nervous he could not move. Their little hearts just quivered. +They let their hearts lay out for a couple of days and when they buried +their hearts they was still jumpin'. That was a sad time. From that day +to this day I never lock no one up in the house." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Henry Andrew (Tip) Williams + Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: Born in 1854, 86 + + +"I was born three and one-half miles from Jackson, North Carolina. I was +born a slave. I was put to work at six years old. They started me to +cleaning off new ground. I thinned corn on my knees with my hands. We +planted six or seven acres of cotton and got four or five cents a pound. +Balance we planted was something to live on. My master was Jason and +Betsy Williams. He had a small plantation; the smaller the plantation +the better they was to their slaves. + +"Jim Johnson's farm joined. He had nine hundred ninety-nine niggers. It +was funny but every time a nigger was born one died. When he bought one +another one would die. He was noted as having nine hundred ninety-nine +niggers. It happened that way. He was rough on his place. He had a jail +on his place. It was wood but close built. Couldn't get out of there. +Put them in there and lock them up with a big padlock. He kept a male +hog in the jail to tramp and walk over them. They said they kept them +tied down in that place. Five hundred lashes and shot 'em up in jail was +light punishment. They said it was light brushing. I lived up in the +Piney Woods. It was big rich bottom plantations from Weldon Bridge to +Halifax down on the river. They was rough on 'em, killed some. No, I +never seen Jim Johnson to know him. He lived at Edenton, North Carolina. +I recollect mighty well the day he died we had a big storm, blowed down +big trees. That jail was standing when I come to Arkansas forty-seven +years ago. It was a 'Bill brew' (stocks) they put men in when they put +them in jail. Turned male hog in there for a blind. + +"Part of Jim Johnson's overseers was black and part white. Hatterway was +white and Nat was black. They was the head overseers and both bad men. I +could hear them crying way to our place early in the morning and at +night. + +"Lansing Kahart owned grandma when I was a little boy. + +"They took hands in droves one hundred fifty miles to Richmond to sell +them. Richmond and New Orleans was the two big selling blocks. My uncle +was sold at Richmond and when I come to Arkansas he was living at +Helena. I never did get to see him but I seen his two boys. They live +down there now. I don't know how my uncle got to Helena but he was +turned loose down in this country at 'mancipation. They told me that. + +"When a man wanted a woman he went and axed the master for her and took +her on. That is about all there was to it. No use to want one of the +women on Jim Johnson's, Debrose, Tillery farms. They kept them on their +own and didn't want visitors. They was big farms. Kershy had a big farm. + +"The Yankees never went to my master's house a time. The black folks +knowd the Yankees was after freedom. They had a song no niggers ever +made up, 'I wanter be free.' + +"My master was too old to go to war but Bill went. I think it was better +times in slavery than now but I'm not in favor of bringing it back on +account of the cruelty and dividing up families. My master was good to +us. He was proud of us. We fared fine. He had a five or six horse farm. +His land wasn't strong but we worked and had plenty. Mother cooked for +white and colored. We had what they et 'cepting when company come. When +they left we got scraps. Then when Christmas come we had cakes and pies +stacked up setting about for us to cut. They cut down through a whole +stack of pies. Cut them in halves and pass them among us. We got hunks +of cake a piece. We had plain eating er plenty all the time. You see I'm +a big man. I wasn't starved out till I was about grown, after the War +was over. Times really was hard. Hard, hard times come on us all. + +"Mama got one whooping in her life. I seen that. Jason Williams whipped +only two grown folks in my life, mama and my brother. Mama sassed her +mistress or that what they called it then. Since then I've heard worse +jawing not called sassing, call it arguing now. Sassing was a bad trait +in them days. Brother was whooped in the field. He was seven years older +than me. I didn't see none of that. They talked a right smart about it. + +"The Williams was good to us all. Master's wife heired two women and a +girl. Mama cooked, ironed, and worked in the field in time of a push +(when necessary). + +"I was hauling for the Rebel soldiers one rainy evening. It was dark and +lightning every now and then. General Ransom was at the hotel porch when +Sherman turned the bend one mile to come in the town. It was about four +o'clock in the evening I judge. General Ransom's company was washing at +Boom's Mill three miles. About one thousand men was out there cooking +and in washing, resting. General Ransom went hollering, 'Yankees!' Went +to his men. They got away I reckon. Sherman killed sixty men in that +town I know. General Ransom went on his horse hollering, 'Yankees +coming!' He went to his home eight miles from there. They went on +through rough as could be. + +"I hauled when it was so dark the team had to take me in home at night. +My circuit was ten miles a day. + +"My young master Bill Williams come in April soon as he got home and +told us we was free but didn't have to leave. We stayed on and worked. +He said he had nothing but the land and we had nothing. At the end of +the year he paid off in corn and a little money. Us boys left then and +mother followed us about. We ain't done no better since then. We didn't +go far off. + +"Forty-seven years ago I went to Weldon, North Carolina in a wagon, took +the train to Gettysburg and from there come to Biscoe, Arkansas. I been +about here ever since. Mr. Biscoe paid our way. We worked three years to +pay him back. I cleared good money since I cone out here. I had cattle I +owned and three head of horses all my own. Age crept up on me. I can't +work to do much good now. I gets six dollars--Welfare money. + +"Times is a puzzle to me. I don't know what to think. Things is got all +wrong some way but I don't know whether it will get straightened out or +not. Folks is making the times. It's the folks cause of all this good or +bad. People not as good as they was forty years ago. They getting +greedy." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: James Williams, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I come from close to Montgomery, Alabama. Man named John G. Elliott +sent and got a number famlees to work his land. He was the richest man +in them parts round Fryers Point, Mississippi. I was born after the +Civil War. They used to say we what was raisin' up havin' so much easier +time an what they had in slavery times. That all old folks could talk +about. Said the onlies time the slaves had to comb their hair was on +Sunday. They would comb and roll each others hair and the men cut each +others hair. That all the time they got. They would roll the childerns +hair or keep it cut short one. Saturday mornin' was the time the men had +to curry and trim up the horses and mules. Clean out the lot and stalls. +The women would sweep and scour the floors for Sunday. + +"I haven't voted for a long time. It used to be some fun votin'. Din in +Mississippi the whites vote one way and us the other. My father was a +Republican. I was too. + +"I have cataracts growing on my eyes. That hinders my work now. I got a +little garden. It help out. I ain't got no propety no kind. + +"The young folks seem happy. I guess they gettin' long fine. Some folks +jes' lucky bout gettin' ahead and stayin' ahead. I can't tell no moren +nothin' how times goiner serve this next generation they changein' all +time seems lack. If the white folks don't know what goiner become of the +next generation, they need not be asking a fellow lack me. I wish I did +know. + +"I ain't been on the PWA. I don't git no help ceptin' when I can work a +little for myself." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: John Williams + County Hospital, ward 11, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 75 + + +"I was born in 1863 in Texas right in the city of Dallas right in the +heart of the town. After the War our owners brought us back to Little +Rock. That is where they left from. They left here on account of the +War. They run off their slaves to keep the Yankees from freeing them. +All the old masters were dead. But the young ones were Louis Fletcher, +John Fletcher, Dick Fletcher, Jeff Fletcher, and Len Fletcher. Five +brothers of them. Their home was here in Little Rock. The War was going +on. It went on four years and prior to the end of it I was born. + +"My mother's name was Mary Williams. My father's name was John Williams. +I was named after him. + +"It is funny how they changed their names. Now, his name was John Scott +before he went into the army. But after he went in, they changed his +name into John Williams. + +"His master's name was Scott but I don't know the other part of it. All +five of the brothers was named for their mother's masters. She raised +them. She always called all of them master. 'Cordin' to what I hear from +the old folks, when one of them come 'round, you better call him master. + +"In slave time, my father was a field hand, I know that. But I know more +about my mother. I heard her say she was always a cook. + +"I heard her speak about having cruel treatment from her first masters; +I don't know who they were. But after the Fletchers bought them, they +had a good time. They come all the way out of Louisiana up here. My +mother was sold from her mother and sister-sold some two or three times. +She never did get no trace of her sister, but she found her grandmother +in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and brought her here. Her sister's name was +Fannie and her grandmother's name was Crecie Lander. That is an Indian +name. I couldn't understand nothing she would say hardly. She was +bright. All my folks were bright but me. My mother had hair way down her +shoulders and you couldn't tell my uncle from a dago. My grandmother was +a regular Indian color. She spoke Indian too. You couldn't understand +nothing she said. + +"When I woke up, they had these homemade beds. I couldn't hardly +describe them, but they put the sides into the posts with legs. They +were stout things too what I am talkin' 'bout. They made cribs for us +little children and put them under the bed. They would pull the cribs +out at night and run them under the bed during the day. They called them +cribs trundles. They called them trundles because they run them under +the bed. For chairs and tables accordin' to what I heard my mother say, +she was cook and they had everything in the big house and et pretty much +what the white folks et. But we just had boxes in the cabins. + +"Them that was in the white folks' house had pretty good meals, but them +that was in the field they would feed just about like they would the +hogs. They had little wooden trays and they would put little fat meat +and pot-liquor and corn bread in the tray, and hominy and such as that. +Biscuits came just on Sunday. + +"They had old ladies to cook for the slave children and old ladies to +cook for the hands. What was in the big house stayed in the big house. +All the slave men ate in one place and all the slave women ate in one +place. They weren't supposed to have any food in their homes unless they +would go out foraging. Sometimes they would get it that way. They'd go +out and steal ol' master's sweet potatoes and roast them in the fire. +They'd go out and steal a hog and kill it. All of it was theirn; they +raised it. They wasn't to say stealin' it; they just went out and got +it. If old master caught them, he'd give 'em a little brushin' if he +thought they wouldn't run off. Lots of times they would run off, and if +he thought they'd run off because they got a whippin', he was kinda slow +to catch 'em. If one run off, he'd tell the res', 'If you see so and so, +tell 'im to come on back. I ain't goin' to whip 'im.' If he couldn't do +nothin' with 'em, he'd sell 'em. I guess he would say to hisself, 'I +can't do nothin' with this nigger. If I can't do nothing with 'im, I'll +sell him and git my money outa him.' + +"I have heard my mother say that some of the slaves that ran away would +get destroyed by the wild animals and some of them would even be glad to +come back home. Right smart of them got clean away and went to free +states. + +"After the War was over, they all was brought back here and the owners +let them know they was free. They had to let them know they were free. I +never heard my mother tell the details. I never heard her say just who +brought her word or how it was told to her when they was freed. + +"I never heard her say much about the church because she was a sinner. +After they was freed, I would go many a night and set down in a corner +where they was having a big dance. + +"The pateroles and jayhawkers were bad. Many of them got hurt too. They +tried to hurt the niggers and sometimes the niggers hurt them. + +"Right after the War, my folks farmed for a living. They farmed on +shares. They didn't have nothing of their own. They never did get +nothing out of their work. I know they didn't get a thing. They farmed +at first about seven miles out from Little Rock, below Fourche Dam on +the Fletcher place. There ain't but one of the Fletchers living now, and +that is Molly Daniels. She is old Louis Fletcher's daughter. All their +brothers is dead. She's owning all the land now we used to till. It's +over a thousand acres. She [HW: mother] stayed down there for about +twenty or thirty years. Then she moved here to town. Here she cooked for +white folks. My mother died about forty years ago--forty-two or three +years; she's been dead sometime. My wife has been dead now for twelve +years. + +"I didn't get but a little schooling, for my father used to send me +after the mules. One day the wheelbarrow had a load of bricks on it. It +was upset. They had histed the bricks up on a high platform. It turned +over as I was passing underneath, and one fell on me and struck my head. +It was a long time after that before they would let me go to school +again. After that I never got used to studying any more. + +"My first teacher was Lottie Andrews (Charlotte Stephens). I had some +more teachers too. Lemme see--Professor Fish was a white man. We had +colored teachers under him. Then we had R.B. White. He was Reuben +White's brother. R.B. White's wife was a teacher. Professor Fish was the +superintendent. There ain't no truth to the tale that Reuben White was +put in a coffin before he was dead. Reuben White built the First Baptist +Church here and Milton White built a big church in Helena. They were +brothers. Them was two sharp darkies. + +"When I first started working, I drove teams. I raised crops a while and +farmed. Then I left the country and come to town and got up to be a +quarry man for years. Then I quit that and went to driving teams for the +Merchant Transfer Company for years. Then I quit that and run on the +road--the Mountain--for four years. Then I taken a coal chute on the +Rock Island and run it for four years. Then I quit and went to working +as an all-'round man in the shop. I stayed with them about nine years. +Then I taken down in the shape that I am now. + +"I have been out here to this hospital for twenty-four years going on +twenty-five. Been down so that I couldn't hit a lick of work for +twenty-five years. I have been in this building for eleven years. I get +along tolerable fair. As the old man says, we can just live. + +"I think the young people are going wild and if something isn't done to +head them off pretty soon, they'll go too far. They ain't looking at +what's going on up the road; they just call theirselves having a good +time. They ain't looking to have nothing. They ain't looking to be +nothing. They ain't looking to get nothing for the future. Don't know +what they would do if they had to work part of the time for nothing like +we did. I see men working now for ten dollars a month. I could take a +fishing line and go fishing and beat that when I was young. Times is +getting back almost as hard as they used to be. + +"I am a Christian. I belong to Shiloh Baptist Church in North Little +Rock. I helped build that church. Brother Hawkins was the pastor." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Lillie Williams, Madison, Arkansas +Age: 69 + + +"I was born some place down in Mississippi. My papa's papa come from +Georgia. He had a tar kiln; he cut splinters put them on it. It would +smoke blackest smoke and drip for a week. He used it to grease the hubs +of the wagons. We drunk pine tar tea for coughs. He split rails, made +boards and shingles all winter. He had a draw-knife, a mall and wedges +to use in his work. He learned that where he come from in Georgia. He +sold boards, pailings when I can recollects. Grandma made tallow candles +for everybody on our place in the fall when they killed the first +yearling. They cooked up beeswax when they robbed bees. When I was a +child I picked up pine knots for torches to quilt and knit by. We raised +everything we lived on. I pulled sage grass to cure for brooms. Grandpa +planted some broom corn and we swept the yards and lots with brooms made +out of brush. + +"Grandma kept a barrel to make locust and persimmon beer in. We dried +apples and peaches all summer and put chinaberry seed 'mongst them to +keep out worms. + +"If we rode to church, it was in a steer wagon (ox wagon). Our oxen +named Buck, Brandy Barley. + +"Grandma raised me, two more girls, and a boy. Mama worked out. Our pa +died. Mama worked 'mongst the white folks. Grandma was old-timey. She +made our dresses to pick cotton in every summer. They was hot and +stubby. They looked pretty. We was proud of them. Mama washed and +ironed. She kept us clean, too. Grandma made us card and spin. I never +could learn to spin but I was a good knitter. I could reel. I did love +to hear it crack. That was a cut. We had a winding blade. We would fill +the quills for our grandma to weave. Grandma was mighty quiet and +particular. She come from Kenturkey. We all ploughed. I've ploughed and +ploughed. + +"I had three little children to raise and now I have nine grandchildren. +I got five here now to look after when their mother is out at work. I +have worked. We farmed in 1923 up till 1931 and got this house paid out. +(Fairly good square-boxed, unpainted house--ed.) + +"My mother-in-law was sold in Aberdeen, Mississippi on a tall stump. She +clem up a ladder. Her ma was at the sale and said she was awful uneasy. +But she was sold to folks close by. She could go to see her. + +"Freedom come on. The colored folks slip about from place to place and +whisper, 'We goiner be set free.' I think my mama left at freedom and +come to twenty or twenty-two miles from Oxford, Mississippi. I don't +know where I was born. But in Mississippi somewheres. + +"There is something wrong about the way we are doing somehow. It is from +hand to mouth. We buys too many paper sacks. They say work is hard to +get. One thing now didn't used to be, you have to show the money before +you can buy a thing. Seem like we all gone money crazy. Automobiles and +silk stockings done ruined us all. White folks ought to straighten this +out." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Williams, Clarendon, Arkansas +Age: Born 1872 +Light color + + +"My father was a slavery man two and one-half miles from Somerville, +Tennessee. Colonel Rivers owned him. Argile Rivers was papa's name. + +"He went to war. His job was hauling food to the soldiers. He lay out in +the woods getting to his soldiers with provisions. He'd run hide under +the feed wagon from the shot. Him and old master would be together +sometimes. His master died, or was hurt and died after the War a long +while. + +"He said his master was good to him all time. They had to work hard. He +raised one boy and me." + + + + +[HW: Ex-slave] + +Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson +Subject: Ex-Slave--Herbs "Hant" experiences +Story:--Information + +This information given by: Mary Williams +Place of residence: Hazen, Arkansas +Occupation: Field Worker +Age: 69 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +Mary Williams mother's name was Mariah and before she married her master +forced her to go wrong and she had a son by him. They all called him Jim +Rob. He was a mulatta. Then Mariah married Williams on General Garretts +farm. The Rob Roy farm and the Garrett farm joined. Mary was born at Rob +Roy, Arkansas near Humphrey. Mary said the master married her mother and +father after her mother was stood up on a stump and auctioned off. Her +mother was a house girl. Soon there were rumors of freedom but their +family lived on where they were. Her father said when he was a boy he +attended the draw bars and met the old master to get a ride up behind +him. + +Once when her father was real small he was eating biscuit with a hole in +it made by a grown person sticking finger down in it, then fill the hole +with molasses. That was a rarity they had just cooked molasses. He was +sitting in front of the fire place. Big White Bobby stuck his nose and +mouth to take a bite of his bread. He picked the cat up and threw it in +the fire. The cat ran out, smutty, just flying. The old mistress came in +there and got after him about throwing the cat in the fire. + +One time when my father was going to see my mother. Before they got +married, across the field. He had a bag of potatoes. He felt something, +felt like some one had caught his bag and was pulling him back. He was +much off a man and thought he could whip nearly every body around but he +was too scared to run and couldn't hardly get away. + + * * * * * + +Mary's mother, Mariah two children had been gone off. They were coming +in on the boat some time in the night. The master sent two of the big +boys down to build a fire and wait at the landing till they came. They +went in the wagon. There was an old empty house up on the hill. So they +went up there and built a fire and put their quilts down for pallets by +the fire place. They heard hants outside, they peeped out the log +cracks. They saw something white out there all the doors were buttoned +and propped. When the boat came it blew and blew. The master wondered +what in the world was the matter down there. The captian said he hated +to put them out and nobody to meet them. It was after midnight. So some +of the boat crew built them a fire and next morning when they got up on +the hill they noticed somebody asleep as they peeped through the cracks +and called them. Saw their wagon and knew it too. They said they was +afraid of them hants around the house, too afraid to go down to the boat +landing if they did hear the boat. Hants can't be seen in daytime only +by people "what born with veils over their faces." + +Her father was going to mill to have corn ground. It was before day +light. He was driving an ox wagon. + +In front of him he saw a sweet maple limb moving up and down over the +road in front of him. He went on and the ox butted and kicked at it and +it followed them nearly to the mill. It sounded like somebody crying. It +turned and went back still crying. Her father said there were hants up +in the tree and cut the limb off and followed him carrying it between +themselves so he couldn't see what they looked like. + + * * * * * + +It is a sign of death for a hoot owl to come hollow in your yard. + + * * * * * + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mary Williams + 409 North Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"Yes mam, I sure would be glad to talk to you 'bout slavery times. I can +sure tell about it--I certainly can, lady. + +"I am so proud 'bout my white folks 'cause they learned me how to work +and tell the truth. I had a good master and mistress. Yes'm, I sure did. + +"I was borned in middle Georgia and I just love the name of Georgia. I +was the second born of 'leven children and they is all dead 'cept +me--I'm the only one left to tell the tale. + +"When the ginnin' started I was always glad 'cause I could ride the +crank they had the mules hitched to. And then after the cotton was +ginned they took it to the press and you could hear that screw go +z-m-m-m and dreckly that 'block and tickle' come down. Yes mam, I sure +did have good times. + +"You ain't never seen a spinnin' wheel has you? Well, I used to card and +spin. I never did weave but I hope dye the hanks. They weaved it into +cloth and called it muslin. + +"I can 'member all I want to 'bout the war. I 'member when the Yankees +come through Georgia. I walked out in the yard with 'em and my white +people just as scared of 'em as they could be. I heered the horses feet, +then the drums, and then 'bout twenty-five or thirty bugles. I was so +amazed when the Yankees come. I heered their songs but I couldn't +'member 'em. + +"One thing I 'member jest as well as if 'twas this mornin'. That was the +day young master Henry Lee went off to war. Elisha Pearman hired him to +go and told him that when the war ceasted he would give him two or three +darkies and let him marry his daughter. Young master Henry (he was just +eighteen) he say he goin' to take old Lincoln the first thing and swing +him to a limb and let him play around awhile and then shoot his head +off. But I 'member the morning old mistress got a letter that told how +young master Henry was in a pit with the soldiers and they begged him +not to stick his head up but he did anyway and they shot it off. Old +mistress jest cry so. + +"One thing I know, the Yankees took a lot of things. I 'member they took +Mrs. Fuller to the well and said they goin' hang her by the thumbs--but +they just done it for mischievous you know. They didn't take nothin' +from my white people 'cept some chickens and a hog, and cut down the +hams. They put the old rooster in the sack and he went to squawkin' so +they took him out and wrung his neck. + +"My white people used to carry me with 'em anywhere they go. That's how +come I learn so much. I sure did learn a heap when I was small. I +'member the first time my old mistress and my young mistress carried me +to church. When the preacher got through preachin' (he was a big fine +lookin' man with white gray hair) he come down from the pulpit and say +'Come to me, you sinners, poor and needy.' And he told what Jesus said +to Nicodemus how he must be born again. I wanted to go to the mourners' +bench so bad, but old mistress wouldn't let me. When I got home I told +my mother to borned me again. You see I was jest little and didn't know +no better. + +"I never seen no Ku Klux but I could have. They never bothered us but +they whipped the shirttails off some of 'em. Some darkies is the meanest +things God ever put breath in. + +"Most generally the white folks was good to their darkies. My young +master used to sneak out his Blue Back Speller and learned my father how +to read, and after the war he taught school. He started me off and then +a teacher from the North come down and taught us. + +"I've done pitty near every kind a work there is to do. There is some +few white people here can identify me. I most always work for +'ristocratic people. It seems that was just my luck. + +"I don't think nothin' of this here younger generation. They ain't +nothin' to 'em. They say to me 'Why don't you have your hair +straightened' but I say 'I've got along this far without painted jaws +and straight hair.' And I ain't goin' wear my dresses up to my knees or +trail 'em in the mud, either. + +"I been married four times and every one of 'em is dead and buried. My +las' husband was in the Spanish-American War and now I gets a pension. +Yes'm it sure does help. + +"I only had two children is all I is had. They is both dead and when God +took my last one, I thought he wasn't jest but I see now God knows +what's best cause if I had my grandchildren now I'd sure beat 'em. I'd +love 'em, but I sure wouldn't let 'em run around. + +"The biggest part of these niggers puts their mistakes on the white +folks. It's easier to do right than wrong cause right whips wrong every +time into a frazzle. + +"I don't read much now since my eyes ain't so good but tell me whatever +become of Teddy Roosevelt? + +"I'm sorry I can't offer you no dinner but I'm just cookin' myself some +peas. + +"Well, lady, I sure am glad you come. I jest knew the Lord was goin' +send somebody for me to talk to. I loves to talk so well. Good bye and +come back again sometime." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mary Williams + 409 Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 84 +[TR: Apparently a second interview with same person despite age +discrepancy.] + + +"Yes ma'am, I know all about slavery. I'll be eighty-four the +twenty-fifth of this month. I was born in 1855. + +"My mother had eleven children and they all said I could remember the +best of all. I'm the second oldest. And they all dead but me. + +"I used to spin and on Friday I'd set aside my wheel and on Saturday +morning we'd sweep yards. And Saturday evening was our holiday. + +"I belonged to the Lees and my white folks was good to me. I was the +aptest one among 'em, so they'd give me a basket and a ginger cake and +I'd go to the Presly's after squabs. They'd be just nine days old 'cause +they said if they was any older they'd be tough. + +"Now, when the Yankees come through ever'body was up in the house 'cept +me. I was out in the yard with the Yankees. No, I wasn't scared of +'em--I had better sense. + +"This is all the 'joyment I have now is to think back in slavery times. + +"In slavery times white folks used to carry me to church. They'd carry +me to church in preference to anybody else. When they'd sing I'd be so +happy I'd hop and skip. I'm one of the stewardess sisters of St. John's +Methodist Church. We takes care of the sacrament table. + +"I believe in visions. I'm a great revisionist. I don't have to be +asleep either. Now if I see a vision of a black snake, it's a sign I got +a black enemy. And if it's a light colored snake, it's a sign I got a +white enemy. And if it's a kinda of a yellow snake, I got a enemy is a +yellow nigger. + +"Now, here's a true sign of death. If you dream of seen' nakedness, +somebody sure goin' to die in your family or maybe your neighbors'. + +"In slavery times they mostly wove their own dresses. Wove goods called +muslin. + +"And they wore bonnets in slavery times made out of bull rush grass. +Called 'em bull rush bonnets. I knowed how to weave but they had me +spinnin' all the time. + +"I've always worked for the 'ristocrat white people--lawyers, doctors, +and bankers. Mr. Frank Head was cashier of that old Merchant and +Planters Bank. He was a northern man. Oh, from away up North. + +"When I cooked, the greatest trouble I had was gettin' away. Nobody +wanted me to leave. And I tell you those northern ladies wanted to call +me Mrs. Williams. I'd say, 'Don't do that. You know these southern +people don't like that--don't believe in that.' But you know she would +call me Miss Mary. But I said, 'Don't do that.' + +"I'm just an old darky and can't 'spress myself but I try to do what's +right and I think that's the reason the Lord has let me live so long." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Husband was a soldier in the Spanish-American War and she receives a +pension. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Rosena Hunt Williams + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 56 + + +"My mother was Amanda McVey. She was born two years, six months after +freedom in Corinth, Mississippi. My father was born in slavery. Grandma +lived with us at her death. Her name was Emily McVey. She was sold in +her girlhood days. Uncle George was sold to a man in the settlement +named Lee. His name was Joe Lee (Lea?). Another of my uncles was sold to +a man named Washington. His name was George Washington. They were sold +at different times. Being sold was their biggest dread. Some of them +wanted to be sold trusting to be treated better. + +"Mother and grandma didn't have a hard time like my father said he come +up under. He said he was brought up hard. He was raised (reared) at +Jackson, Tennessee. He was never sold. Master Alf Hunt owned him and his +young master, Willie Hunt, inherited him. He said they never put him in +the field till he was twelve years old. He started ploughing a third +part of a day. A girl about grown and another boy a little older took +turns to do a 'buck's' (a grown man) work. They was lotted of a certain +tract and if it stay clear a certain time to get it all done. He said +they got whooped and half fed. When the War was on, his white folks had +to half feed their own selves. He talked like if the War had lasted much +longer it would been a famine in the land. He hit this world in time to +have a hard time of it. After freedom was worse time in his life. + +"In August when the crops was laid by Master Hunt called them to the +house at one o'clock by so many taps of the farm bell. It hung in a +great big tree. He read a paper from his side porch telling them they +free. They been free several months then and didn't a one of them know +it." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: "Soldier" Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 98 + + +"My name is William Ball Williams III. I was born in Greensburg. My +owners was Robert and Mary Ball. They had four children I knowd. Old man +Ball bought ma and two children for one thousand five hundred dollars. I +never was sold. I want to live to be a hundred years old. I'm +ninety-eight years old now. + +"Ma was Margarett Ball. Pa was William Anderson. Ma was a cook and pa a +field hand. They whooped a plenty on the place where I come up. Some of +'em run off. Some they tied to a tree. Bob Ball didn't use no dogs. When +they got starved out they'd come outen the woods. Of course they would. +Bob Ball raised fine tobacco, fine Negroes, fine horses. He made us go +to church. Four or five of us would walk to the white folks' Baptist +church. The master and his family rode. It was a good piece. We had +dances in the cabins every once in a while. We dance more in winter time +so we could turn a pot down in the door to drown out the noise. We had +plenty plain grub to eat. + +"I run away to Louisville to j'ine the Yankees one day. I was scared to +death all the time. They put us in front to shield themselves. They said +they was fighting for us--for our freedom. Piles of them was killed. I +got a flesh wound. I'm scarred up some. We got plenty to eat. I was in +two or three hot battles. I wanted to quit but they would catch them and +shoot them if they left. I didn't know how to get out and get away. I +mustered out at Jacksonville, Florida and walked every step of the way +back. When I got back it was fall of the year. My folks still at my +master's. I was on picket guard at Jacksonville, Florida. We fought a +little at Pensacola, Florida. + +"At the end of the War provisions got mighty scarce. If we didn't have +enough to eat we took it. They hadn't raised nothing to eat the last two +years. Before I got back to Kentucky the Ku Klux was about and it was +hard to get enough to eat to keep traveling on. I was scared nearly to +death all the time. I'm not in favor of war. I didn't stay on with the +master but my folks lived on. They didn't want to hire Negro soldiers. I +traveled about hunting a good place and got to Osceola, Arkansas. I been +here in Forrest City twenty ard years. The best people in the world live +in Arkansas. + +"I'm going to try to go to the Yankee Reunion. They sent me a big letter +(invitation). They going to send me a ticket and pay all my expenses. It +is at Gettysburg. It is from June 29th to July 6th. My grandson is going +to take care of me. + +"I get one hundred dollars a month pension. It keeps us mighty well. I +want to live to be a hundred years old." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Anna Williamson, Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: Between 75 and 80 + + +"Grandma come from North Carolina. Her master was Rodes Herndon, then +Cager Booker. He owned my mama. My name is Anna Booker. I married Wes +Williamson. + +"My papa's master was Calvin Winfree. He come from Virginia. Me and Bert +Winfree (white) raised together close to Somerville, Tennessee. + +"Grandma and grandpa was named Maria and Allen. Her master was Rodes +Herndon. I was fourth to the oldest of mama's children. She give me to +grandma. That who raised me. Mama took to the field after freedom. Mama +had seven or eight children. + +"Mama muster been a pretty big sorter woman when she young. A ridin' +boss went to whoopin' her once and she tore every rag clothes he had on +offen him. I heard em say he went home strip start naked. I think they +said he got turned off or quit, one. + +"When mama was in slavery she had three girl babies and long wid them +she nursed some of the white babies. She cooked some but wasn't the +regular white folks' cook. Another black woman was the regular cook. I +heard her say she was a field hand mostly durin' slavery. + +"Folks was free two or three years fore they knowed it. Nobody told em. + +"I used to have to go up the road to get milk for the old mistress. She +boxed my ears. That when I was a child reckly after the war. + +"They had a latch and a hart bar cross the door. I never was out but +once after dark. I never seen no Ku Klux. My folks didn't know they was +free. + +"Dr. Washington lived in Somerville, Tennessee and brought us to +Arkansas to farm. He owned acres and acres of land here. I was grown and +had a house full of children. I got five living now. + +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for. I would vote for the worst +kinder officers maybe and I wouldn't wanter make times harder on us all +'an they is. + +"I been cookin' and farmin' all my life. Now I get $10 a month from the +Sociable Welfare. + +"I used to pick up chips at Mrs. Willforms--pick up a big cotton basket +piled up fore I quit. I seen the Yankees, they camped at the fair +grounds. I thought they wore the prettiest clothes and the brass buttons +so pretty on the blue suits. I hear em beat the drum. I go peep out when +they come by. + +"My old mistress slapped me till my eye was red cause one day I says +'Ain't them men pretty?' They camped at what is now the Fair Grounds at +Somerville, Tennessee, at sorter right of town. My papa was a ox driver. +That is all he done bout. Seem like there was haulin' to be done all the +time. + +"The folks used to be heap better than they is now. Some of the masters +was mean to the slaves but they mortally had plenty to eat and wear and +a house to live in. Some of the houses was sorry and the snow come in +the cracks but we had big fire places and plenty wood to cook and keep +warm by. The children all wore flannel clothes then to keep em warm. +They raised sheep. + +"It is a shame what folks do now. These young darky girls marries a boy +and they get tired each other. They quit. They ain't got no sign of +divorce! Course they ain't never been married! They jes' take up and +live together, then they both go on livin' with some other man an' +woman. It ain't right! Folks ain't good like they used to be. We old +folks ain't got no use for such doin's. They done too smart to be told +by us old folks. I do best I can an' be good as I knows how to be. + +"The times is fine as I ever seen in my life. I wish I was young and +strong. I wouldn't ask nobody for sistance. Tey ain't nuthin' wrong wid +this year's crop as I sees. Times is fine." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Callie Halsey Williamson, Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: 60? + + +"Mother was born in Alabama during slavery. Her name was Levisa Halsey. +Neither of my parents were sold. Mother was tranferred (transferred) to +her young mistress. She had no children and still lived in the home with +her people. Her mother, Emaline, was the cook. Master Bradford owned +grandmother and grandfather both and my own father all. Mother was the +oldest and only child. + +"I don't know whether they was mean to all the slaves or not. Seems they +were not to my folks. The old man died sometime before freedom. The +young master went to get a overseer. He brought a new man to take his +own place. He whooped grandma and auntie and cut grandma's long hair off +with his pocket-knife. + +"During that time grandpa slip up on the house top and take some boards +off. Grandma would sit up in her bed and knit by moonlight through the +hole. He had to put the boards back. She had to work in the field in +daytime. + +"During the War they were scared nearly to death of the soldiers and +would run down in their master's big orchard and hide in the tall broom +sage. They rode her young master on a rail and killed him. A drove of +soldiers come by and stopped. They said, 'Young man, can you ride a +young horse?' They gathered him and took him out and brought him in the +yard. He died. They hurt him and scared him to death. + +"Another train come and loaded up all the slaves and somehow when +freedom come on, my folks was here at Arkadelphia. They said they lived +in fear of the soldiers all the time. + +"Mother said a woman come first and stuck a flag out a upstairs window +and the Yankees shot the guns off and some of them made talks on freedom +to the Negroes and white folks. They seen that at Arkadelphia. + +"Mama, grandma, and grandpa started on their way back home following +soldier camps. They never got back to their homes. They never did like +the Yankees and grieved about the way they done their young master. He +was like one of my father's own children. They seen hard times after +freedom. It was hard to live and they was used to work but they had a +good living. They had to die in Arkansas. How come I'm here now." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Charlotte Willis, Madison, Arkansas +Age: 63 + + +"Grandpa said he walked every step of the way from old Virginia to +Mississippi. They camped at night, cooked and fed them. They didn't eat +no more till they camped next night. They was walked in a peart pace and +the guards and traders rode. They stop every now and then for to be +cried off and some more be took on. + +"Grandpa said he didn't wanter be sold but they never ax 'em no +diffurence. Sold 'em and took 'em right along. They better keep their +feelings hid, for them traders was same kind er stock these cattle men +is today judging from the way he say it was then. Grandpa loved Virginia +long as he have breath in him. + +"We used to sing + + 'Old Virginia nigger say he love hot mush; + Alabama nigger say, good God, nigger, hush.' + +(She sang it very fast and in a fashion Negroes only can do--ed.) He +wore a big straw hat and he'd get up and fan us out the way. + +"Grandma was brought from South Carolina by the Willises to Mississippi. +I heard her say her and him was made to jump over the broom. Called that +getting 'em married. Grandpa said that was the way white folks had of +showing off the couples. Then it would be 'nounced from the big house +steps they was man and wife. Sometimes more than two be 'nounced at the +gatherin'. + +"They had good times sometimes. They talked 'bout corn shuckings, corn +shellings, cotton traumpin's, (packing cotton in wagon beds by walking +on it over and over, she said--ed.) and dances. + +"Mother said she never was sold. She b'long to the Willises in +Mississippi. + +"I reckon I sure do 'members my grandpa and grandma bof. Seventeen of us +all lived at Grandpa Wash Hollivy's home. He was paying on it and died. +The house have three rooms in it. In the fall of the year grandma took +all the rancid grease and skins and get the drippings from the ash +hopper and make soap 'nough to do 'er till sometime next year. She made +it in the iron washpot. He raised meat to do us till sometime next year. +We never run short on nothing to eat. + +"We never had but 'bout two dresses at the same time. When I come on, +dresses was scarce. If we tore our dresses, we wore patches. We was +sorter 'shamed to have our dresses patched up. + +"I heard 'em say grandpa's house was guarded to keep off the Ku Kluck +one night. They come all right 'nough but went to another house. They +started whooping. The guards left grandpa's house and went down there +and shot into them. Some of them was killed and the horses run off. Some +run off quick and got out the way. I never caught on to what they +guarded grandpa for. + +"I had one girl baby what died. I been married once in my life. We rents +our house. I never 'plied to the Welfare yit. We been farming my +enduring life. Still farming; I says we is. + +"Old folks give out and can't run on wid the work. Young folks no 'count +and works to sorter git by their own selfs. Way I see it. We got so far +off the track and can't git back. Starve 'fore we git back like we used +to be. We used to git credit. Now there ain't no place to git it. We +down and can't git up. Way I sees it. Young generation is so uneasy, +ain't still a minute. They wanter be going all the time. They don't +marry; they goes lives together. Then they quits and take up wid +somebody else. I don't know what make 'em do thater way. That the way +the right young ones doing now. + +"My pa looked on me when I was three days old and left us. I ain't never +seen him since." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ella Wilson + 1611 McGowan Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: Claims 100 + + +"I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. I don't remember the month. But when +the Civil War ceased I was here then and sixteen years old. I'm a +hundred years old. Some folks tries to make out like it ain't so. But I +reckon I oughter know. + +"The white folks moved out from Georgia and went to Louisiana. I was +raised in Louisiana, but I was born in Georgia. I have had several +people countin' up my age and they all say I is a hundred years old. I +had eight children. All of them are free born. Four of them died when +they were babies. I lost one just a few days ago. + +"I had such a hard time in slavery. Them white folks was slashing me and +whipping me and putting me in the buck, till I don't want to hear +nothin' about it. + +"An old man named Dr. Polk got a dime from me and said it was for the +Old Age Pension. He lived in Magnolia, Arkansas. They ran him out of +Magnolia for ruining a colored girl and I don't know where he is now. I +know he got ten cents from me. + +"The first work I ever did was nursing the white children. My old mis' +called me in the house and told me that she wanted me to take care of +her children and from then till freedom came, I stayed in the house +nursing. I had to get up every morning at five when the cook got up and +make the coffee and then I had to go in the dining-room and set the +table. Then I served breakfast. Then I went into the house and cleaned +it up. Then I 'tended to the white children and served the other meals +during the day. I never did work in the fields much. My old mars said I +was too damned slow. + +"They carried me out to the field one evening. He never did show me nor +tell me how to handle it and when I found myself, he had knocked me +down. When I got up, he didn't tell me what to do, but when I picked up +my things and started droppin' the seeds ag'in, he picked up a pine root +and killed me off with it. When I come to, he took me up to the house +and told his wife he didn't want me into the fields because I was too +damned slow. + +"My mars used to throw me in a buck and whip me. He would put my hands +together and tie them. Then he would strip me naked. Then he would make +me squat down. Then he would run a stick through behind my knees and in +front of my elbows. My knees was up against my chest. My hands was tied +together just in front of my shins. The stick between my arms and my +knees held me in a squat. That's what they called a buck. You could [TR: +sic: couldn't] stand up an' you couldn't git your feet out. You couldn't +do nothin' but just squat there and take what he put on you. You +couldn't move no way at all. Just try to. You jus' fall over on one side +and have to stay there till you turned over by him. + +"He would whip me on one side till that was sore and full of blood and +then he would whip me on the other side till that was all tore up. I got +a scar big as the place my old mis' hit me. She took a bull whip +once--the bull whip had a piece of iron in the handle of it--and she got +mad. She was so mad she took the whip and hit me over the head with the +butt end of it, and the blood flew. It ran all down my back and dripped +off my heels. But I wasn't dassent to stop to do nothin' about it. Old +ugly thing! The devil's got her right now!! They never rubbed no salt +nor nothin' in your back. They didn't need to. + +"When the war come, they made him serve. He would go there and run away +and come back home. One day after he had been took away and had come +back, he was settin' down talkin' to old mis', and I was huddled up in +the corner listenin', and I heered him tell her, 'Tain't no use to do +all them things. The niggers'll soon be free.' And she said, 'I'll be +dead before that happens, I hope.' And she died just one year before the +slaves was freed. They was a mean couple. + +"Old mars used to strip my sister naked and make her lay down, and he +would lift up a fence rail and lay it down on her neck. Then he'd whip +her till she was bloody. She wouldn't get away because the rail held her +head down. If she squirmed and tried to git loose, the rail would choke +her. Her hands was tied behind her. And there wasn't nothin' to do but +jus' lay there and take it. + +"I am almost a stranger here in Little Rock. My father was named Lewis +Hogan and I had one sister named Tina and one named Harriet. His white +folks what he lived with was Mrs. Thomas. He was a carriage driver for +her. Pleas Collier bought him from her and took him to Louisiana. All +the people on my mother's side was left in Georgia. My grandmother's +name was Rachel. Her white folks she lived with was named Dardens. They +all lived in Atlanta, Georgia. I remember the train we got on when we +left Georgia. Grandma Rachel had one daughter named Siney. Siney had a +son named Billie and a sister named Louise. And my grandmother was free +when I first got big enough to know myself. I don't know how come she +was free. That was a long time before the war. The part of Georgia we +lived in was where chestnuts grow, but they wasn't no chinkapins. All my +grandmother's people stayed in Atlanta, and they were living at the time +I left there. + +"My mother's name was Dinah Hogans and my father's name was Lewis +Hogans. I don't know where they were borned. But when I knowed him, they +was in Georgia. My mother's mars bought my father 'cause my mother heard +that Collier was goin' to break up and go to Louisiana. My father told +his mars that if he (Collier) broke up and left, he never would be no +more good to him. Then my mother found out what he said to Collier, so +she told her old mis' if Collier left, she never would do her no more +good. You see, my mother was give to Mrs. Collier when old Darden who +was Mrs. Collier's father died. So Collier bought my father. Collier +kept us all till we all got free. White folks come to me sometimes about +all that. + +"You jus' oughter hear me answer them. I tells them about it just like I +would colored folks. + +"'Them your teeth in your mouth?' + +"'Whose you think they is? Suttinly they're my teeth.' + +"'Ain't you sorry you free?' + +"'What I'm goin' to be sorry for? I ain't no fool.' + +"'How old is you?' + +"I tells them. Some of 'em want to argue with me and say I ain't that +old. Some of 'em say, 'Well, the Lawd sure has blessed you.' Sure he's +blessed me. Don't I know that? + +"I've seen 'em run away from slavery. There was a white man that lived +close to us who had just one slave and he couldn't keep him out the +woods to save his soul. The white man was named Jim Sales and the +colored boy was named--shucks, I can't remember his name. But I know Jim +Sales couldn't keep that nigger out the woods nohow. + +"I was freed endurin' the Civil War. We was in at dinner and my old mars +had been to town. Old man Pleas Collier, our mean mars, called my daddy +out and then he said, 'All you come out here.' I said to myself, 'I +wonder what he's a goin' to do to my daddy,' and I slipped into the +front room and listened. And he said, 'All of you come.' Then I went out +too. And he unrolled the Government paper he had in his hand and read it +and told us it meant that all of us was free. Didn't tell us we was free +as he was. Then he said the Government's going to send you some money to +live on. But the Government never did do it. I never did see nobody that +got it. Did you? They didn't give me nothin' and they didn't give my +father nothin'. They just sot us free and turned us loose naked. + +"Right after they got through reading the papers and told us we was +free, my daddy took me to the field and put me to work. I'd been workin' +in the house before that. + +"Then they wasn't payin' nobody nothin'. They just hired people to work +on halves. That was the first year. But we didn't get no half. We didn't +git nothin'. Just time we got our crop laid by, the white man run us off +and we didn't get nothin'. We had a fine crop too. We hadn't done +nothin' to him. He just wanted all the crop for hisself and he run us +off. That's all. + +"Well, after that my daddy took and hired me out up here in Arkansas. He +hired me out with some old poor white trash. We was livin' then in +Louisiana with a old white man named Mr. Smith. I couldn't tell what +part of Louisiana it was no more than it was down there close to Homer, +about a mile from Homer. My mother died and my father come and got me +and took me home to take care of the chillen. + +"I have been married twice. I married first time down there within four +miles of Homer. I was married to my first husband a number of years. His +name was Wesley Wilson. We had eight children. My second husband was +named Lee somepin or other. I married him on Thursday night and he left +on Monday morning. I guess he must have been taking the white folks' +things and had to clear out. His name was Lee Hardy. That is what his +name was. I didn't figure he stayed with me long enough for me to take +his name. That nigger didn't look right to me nohow. He just married me +'cause he thought I was a working woman and would give him money. He +asked me for money once but I didn't give 'im none. What I'm goin' to +give 'im money for? That's what I'd like to know. + +"After my first husband died, I cooked and went on for them white folks. +That was the only thing I could do. I was cooking before he died. I +can't do no work now. I ain't worked for more than twenty years. I ain't +done no work since I left Magnolia. + +"I belong to the Collins Street Baptist Church--Nichols' church. + +"I don't git no pension. I don't git nothin'. I been down to see if I +could git it but they ain't give me nothin' yit. I'm goin' down ag'in +when I can git somebody to carry me." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Ella Wilson insists that she is one hundred years old and that she was +born sixteen years before freedom. The two statements conflict. From her +appearance and manner, either might be true. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Robert Wilson + 811 West Pullen Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 101 + + +"My name is Robert Wilson. I was born in Halifax County, Virginia. How +old am I? Accordin' to my recollection I was twenty-three years old +befo' the war started. Old master tole me how old I was. I'm a hundred +and one now. Yes'm I _knows_ I am. + +"Yes'm I been sold. They put us up on the auction block jest like we was +a hoss. They put me up and white man ax 'Who want to buy this boy?' One +man say 'ten dollars' and then they run it up to a hundred. And they buy +a girl to match you and raise you up together. When you want to get +married you jump over the broomstick. I used to weigh one hundred and +fifty-six pounds and a half, standin' weight. I could pick four and five +hundred pounds of cotton in a day. + +"When the Yankees come, old master make us boys take the sack of money +and hide it in the big pond. Yes'm, we drove the buggy right in the +water. + +"Durin' the time of the war I used to ride 'long side of the Yankees. +They give me a blue coat with brass buttons and a blue cap and +brass-toed boots. I used to saddle and curry the bosses. I member +Company Fifth and Sixth. + +"They tole us the war was to make things better. We didn't know we was +free till 'bout six months after the war was over. I didn't care whether +I was free or not. + +"'Bout slavery--well, I thinks like this. I think they fared better +then. They didn't have to worry 'bout spenses. We had plenty chicken and +everything. Nowdays when you pay the rent you ain't got nothin' left to +buy somethin' to eat. + +"Yes'm, I been to school. I'se a preacher (showing me his certificate of +ordination). I lives close to the Lord. The Lord done left me here for a +purpose. + +"When we used to pray we put our heads under the wash pot to keep old +master from hearin' us. Old master make us put the chillun to bed fo' +dark. I 'member one song he make us sing-- + + 'Down in Mobile, down in Mobile + How I love dat pretty yellow gal, + She rock to suit me-- + Down in Mobile, down in Mobile.' + +"You 'member when Grant took the fort at Vicksburg? I 'member he and +that general on the white hoss--yes'm, General Lee, they eat dinner +together and then after dinner they go to fightin'. + +"Oh lord! Don't talk about them Ku Klux. + +"Cose I believes in spirits. Don't you? Well you ain't never been +skeered. + +"After freedom my folks refugeed from Virginia to Tennessee so I went to +Memphis. We got things from the Bureau. Yes, Lord! I had everything I +wanted. I wouldn't care if that time would come back now. + +"'Did you ever vote?' Me? Yes'm I voted. Never had no trouble 'tall. I +voted for Garfield. I 'member when Garfield was shot. I was settln' out +in the yard. The moon was in the 'clipse. I'll never forget it. + +"I think the colored folks should have a legal right to vote, cause if +ever they come another war--now listen--them darkies ain't never goin' +to France again. The nigger ain't got no country--this is white man's +town. + +"What I been doin' since the war? Well, I'm a good cook. When I puts on +the white apron, I knows what to do. Then I preaches. The Lord done +revealed things to me. + +"I'll tell you 'bout this younger generation. They is goin' to +destruction. They is not envelopin (developing) their education. + +"Well I done tole you all I know. Guess I tole you 'bout a book, ain't +I?" + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Tom Windham, 723 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 98 + + +"I was twenty-one years old when the war was settled. My mother and my +grandmother kep' my age up and after the death of them I knowed how to +handle it myself. + +"My old master's name was Butler and he was pretty fair to his darkies. +He give em plenty to eat and wear. + +"I was born and raised in Indian Territory and emigrated from there to +Atlanta, Georgia when I was about twelve or thirteen. We lived right in +Atlanta. I cleaned up round the house. Yes ma'm, that's what I followed. +When the Yankees come to Atlanta they just forced us into the army. +After I got into the army and got used to it, it was fun--just like meat +and bread. Yankees treated me good. I was sorry when it broke up. When +the bugle blowed we knowed our business. Sometimes, the age I is now, I +wish I was in it. Father Abraham Lincoln was our President. I knowed the +war was to free the colored folks. I run away from my white folks is how +come I was in the Yankee army. I was in the artillery. That deefened me +a whole lot and I lost these two fingers on my left hand--that's all of +my joints that got broke. + +"Before the war my white folks was good to us. I had a better time than +I got now. + +"My father and mother was sold away from me, but old mistress couldn't +rest without em and went and got em back. They stayed right there till +they died. Us folks was treated well. I think we should have our liberty +cause us ain't hogs or horses--us is human flesh. + +"When I was with the Yankees, I done some livin'. + +"I went to school two months in my life. I should a gone longer but I +found where I could get next to a dollar so I quit. If I had education +now it might a done me some good. + +"I used to be in a brass band. I like a brass band, don't make no +difference where I hear it. + +"There was one song we played when I was in the army. It was: + + 'Rasslin Jacob, don't weep + Weepin' Mary, don't weep. + Before I'd be a slave + I'd be buried in my grave, + Go home to my father and be saved.' + +The Rebels was hot after us then. Another one we used to sing was: + + 'My old mistress promised me + When she die, she'd set me free.' + +"After the war I continued to work around the white folks and yes ma'm, +I seen the Ku Klux many a time. They bothered me sometimes but they soon +let me alone. They was a few Yankees about and they come together and +made the Ku Klux stay in their place. + +"One time after the war I went to Ohio and stayed three months but it +was too cold for me. Man I worked for was named Harper and as good a man +as ever broke a piece of bread. + +"I come back South and learned how to farm. I been here in this country +of Arkansas a long time. I hoped clean up this place (Pine Bluff) and +make a town of it. + +"I got a daughter and two sisters alive in Africa today--in Liberia. I +went there after we was free. I liked it. Just the thoughts of bein' +where Christ traveled--that's the good part of it. They furnished us +transportation to go to Africa after the war and a lot of the colored +folks went. I come back cause I had a lot of kin here, but I sent my +daughter and two sisters there and they're alive there today." + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Subject: Apparitions + +This information given by: Tom Windham +Place of Residence: 723 Missouri St. Pine Bluff, Ark. +Occupation: None (Age 92) +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +"Yes ma'm, I believe in spirits--you got two spirits--one bad and one +good, and when you die your bad spirit here on this earth. + +Now my mother comes to see me once in awhile at night. She been dead +till her bones is bleached, but she comes and tells me to be a good boy. +I always been obedient to old and young. She tell me to be good and she +banish from me. + +My grandmother been to see me once. + +Old Father Abraham Lincoln, I've seen him since he been dead too. I got +a gun old Father Abraham give me right out o' his own hand at Vicksburg. +I'm goin' to keep it till I die too. + +Yes ma'm, I know they is spirits." + + + + +Pine Bluff District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of interviewer: Martin - Barker +Subject: Ex-Slave +Story. + +Information by: Tom Windham +Place of residence: 1221 Georgia St. +Age: 87 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.] + + +My master was an Indian. Lewis Butler of Oklahoma. I was born and raised +in Muskogee, Okla. + +All of marse Butler's people were Creek Indians. They owned a large +plantation and raised vegetables. They lived in tepees, had floors and +were set on a lot and a wall boarded up around them. This was done so +that they could hide the slaves they had stolen. + +I was twelve or thirteen years old, when the Indians had a small war. +They wouldn't allow us to fight. If we did, we were punished. They had a +place and made us work. I went to school two months also a little at +night. Cant read nor write. I am all alone now here in America. I have a +daughter in Ethiopia, teaching school, also two sisters. + +I served in several wars and I have been to Ethiopia. We left Monroe, +La., took water, then went back by gun-boat to Galveston. The Government +took us over and brought us back. After the Civil war was over the +Indians let the slaves go. + +I had an Indian wife and wore Indian dress and when I went to Milford, +Tenn., I had to send the outfit home to Okla. I had long hair until +1931. + +My Indians believed in our God. They held their meetings in a large +tent. They believed in salvation and damnation, and in Heaven and Hell. + +My idea of Heaven is that it is a holy place with God. We will walk in +Heaven just as on earth. As in him we believe, so shall we see. + +The earth shall burn, and the old earth shall pass away and the new +earth will be created. The saints will return and live on, that is the +ones who go away now. + +The new earth is when Jesus will cone to earth and reign. Every one has +two spirits. One that God kills and the other an evil spirit. I have had +communication with my dead wife twice since I been in Pine Bluff. Her +spirit come to me at night, calling me, asking whar wuz baby? + +That meant our daughter whut is across the water. + +My first wifes name was Arla Windham. My second wife was just part +Indian. I have seen spirits of friends just as they were put away. I +shore believe in ghosts. Their language is different from ours. I knew +my wife's voice cause she called me "Tommy". + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Alice Wise + 1112 Indiana Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in South Carolina, and I sent and got my age and the man +sent me my age. He said he remembered me. He said, 'You married Marcus +Wise. I know you is seventy-nine 'cause I'm seventy-four and you're +older'n me. Why, I got a boy fifty-three years old. + +"We belonged to Daniel Draft. His wife was named Maud. And my father's +people was named Wesley Caughman and his wife was Catherine Caughman. + +"I can recollect hearin' the folks hollerin' when the Yankees come +through and singin' this old cornfield song + + 'I'm a goin' away tomorrow + Hoodle do, hoodle do.' + +That's all I can recollect. + +"I can recollect when we moved from the white folks. My father driv' a +wagon and hauled lumber to Columbia from Lexington. + +"I don't know how old I was when I come here. My age got away from me, +that's how come I had to write home for it, but I had three chillun when +I come to this country; I know that. + +"I went to school a little, but chillun in them days had to work. I was +always apt about washin' and ironin' and sewin' and so if anybody was +stopped from school I was stopped. I used to set pockets in pants for +mama. In them days they weaved and made their own. + +"They'd do better if they had a factory here now. Things wouldn't be so +high. + +"Oh Lord, yes, I could knit. I'd sit up some nights and knit a half a +sock and spin and card. + +"My mother's boys would card and spin a broach when they wasn't doin' +nothin' else, but nowadays you can't get 'em to bring you a bucket of +water. + +"They say they is weaker and wiser, but I say they is weaker and +foolisher. That's what I think. You know they ain't like the old folks +was. Folks works nowadays and keeps their chillun in school till they're +grown, and it don't do 'em much good-some of 'em." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Frank Wise, 1006 Victory Street, + Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 81 to 85 + + +Birth and Parents + +"I was born in Burch County, Georgia, in 1854. I came to this state in +1871; I think I was about sixteen years old then. + +"My father was named Jim Wise and my mother was named Harriet Wise. My +father belonged to the Wises, and my mother to the Crawfords. They +didn't live on the same plantation. When they married, she was a +Crawford. Her old master was named Jim Crawford. I don't know how she +and my father happened to meet up. Wise and Crawford had adjoining +plantations. Both of them was in Burch County. My father's father was +named Jacob Wise and his mother was named Martha. I don't remember the +names of their master. I don't remember the names of my mother's people. + + +War Memories + +"I remember the year the War ended. I remember when the Yankees came on +the place that day the War ended. We children was all settin' out in the +yard. Some of them ran under the house when they saw the soldiers. They +were shooting the chickens and everything, taking the horses, and +anything else they thought they could use. They said to the old lady, +'Lemme kill them little niggers.' Old miss said, 'No, wait till you set +them free.' He said, 'No, when we set them free, we ain't goin' to kill +them.' They got around in the house, under the house, and in the yard. +They asked the old lady, 'Where is the horses?' She said, 'I don't +know.' They said, 'Go down in the woods and get them.' Somebody went +down and brought back a mare and a mule and a colt. They knocked the +colt in the head and shot him. They took the mare and the mule. They +took all the meat out of the smokehouse. They didn't set us free, and +they didn't tell us anything about freedom. Not then. + + +How Freedom Came + +"I don't remember how we got the news of freedom. I don't remember what +the slaves expected to get. I don't know what they got, if they got +anything. I don't remember nothin' about that. + + +Schooling + +"I went to school about eight days. That's all the schooling I ever got. +I had a brother and sister who went to school, but I never went much. I +went to school what little I did right here in Lonoke County, Arkansas. +My teacher was Tom Fuller. He was a colored man. He came from down in +Texas. I learned everything I know by watching people and listenin' to +them. + + +Occupational Experiences + +"The first thing I ever did was farming. I farmed all up till 1879. I +worked on steamboat till 1881, and then I went out railroading. I worked +at that a long time. I married in 1883. I was about twenty-seven years +old then, and a few months over. + +"While I was farming, I did some sharecropping, but I never got cheated +out of anything. + + +Ku Klux + +"I remember the folks had been off to see their people and the Ku Klux +taken the stock while they were gone. I don't remember the Ku Klux Klan +interfering with the Negroes much. I never saw them. + + +Voting + +"I never voted till Cleveland began his campaign for President. I voted +for eight presidents. Nobody ever bothered me about it. + + +Family + +"There were six children in my mother's family. My father had six +brothers. He made the seventh. I had nine children in all. Four of them +are living now. One is here; one, in St. Louis; and two, in Chicago. My +boy is in Chicago. + + +Opinions + +"The majority of the young people are just growing up. Lots of them are +not getting any raising at all." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Wise is between eighty-one and eighty-five years old. The data he gives +conflict, some of it indicating the earlier and some of it later years. + +He doesn't talk much and has to be pumped. He doesn't lose the thread of +the discourse. His failure to talk on details of his early life seem to +the interviewer due to unwillingness rather than lack of memory. While +his age is advanced, his mind is sharp for one who has had such limited +training. + +He has no definite means of support, but states that he has been +promised a pension in September--he means old age assistance. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Lucy Withers, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 86 + + +I was born 5-1/2 miles from Abbeville, South Carolina, in sight of +Little Mountain. I do remember the Civil War. I never seen them fight. +They come to about twenty or thirty miles from where I lived. They +didn't bother much in the parts where I lived. All the white men folks +went to war. My mama's master was Edward Roach and his wife was Miss +Sarah Roach. My papa's master was Peter Radcliff and Miss Nancy +Radcliff. They give me to her niece, Miss Jennie Shelitoe. When she +married she wanted me. After freedom I married. In 1866 we come to a big +farm close to Pine Bluff. Then we lived close to Memphis and I been +living here in Brinkley a long time. + +The Ku Klux put down a Governor in South Carolina right after the war. +They rode everywhere night and day scaring everybody. They wouldn't let +no colored people hold office. That governor was a colored man. The Ku +Klux whipped both black and white folks. They run the Yankees plumb out +er that country. + +No sir ree I never voted and I ain't never goner vote! Women is tearing +dis world up. + +The ex-slaves was told that they would got things, different things. I +don't know what all. I know they didn't got nothing and when freedom +came they took their clothes and left. They scattered out and went to +different places. It was hard to get work and there was no money cept +what the Yankees give em. When they all got run off there was no money. + +My husband was a Yankee soldier and he decided he wanter come to this +country. We come on the train and on the boat to Pine Bluff. We farmed. +I got three children but just two living. One boy lives at Fargo and the +girl lives at Chicago. My husband died. Me and my sister lives here. I +bought a place with my pension money. That since my husband died. + +The present times is hard. I don't know nithin about these young folks. +I tends to my own business. I ain't got nothing to do with the young +folks. I don't know what causes the times to be so hard. Folks used to +wear more clothes than they do and let colored folks have more ironing +and bigger washings too. The washings bout played out. Some few folks +hire cooks. + +I farmed and washed and ironed and I have cooked along some here in +Brinkley. + +I am supported by my pension my husband left me. It ain't much but I +make out with it. It is Union Soldiers Pension. + + + + +[HW: Hot Springs] + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person Interviewed: Anna Woods, 426 Grand Avenue + + +"Yes ma'am. Come on in. Is you taking lists of folks for old age +pensions? Can you tell us what we going to get and when it's going to +come? No? Then--Oh, I see you is writing us up. Well maybe that will +help us to get attention. Cause we sure does need the pension. + +To be sure I remembers slave days. My grandmother--she was give away in +the trading yard. She was aflicted. What was the matter with her? Was +she lame? No ma'am, she had the scrofula. So her mother was sold away +from her, but she was give away. She was give away to a woman named +Glover. + +Mrs. Glover was a old woman when I knowed her. She was an old, old +woman. She sort of studied before she'd say anything. She was a pretty +good old woman though, Mrs. Glover was. She wouldn't let her colored +folks be whipped. She wouldn't let me work in the field. Old Donovan +wanted me to work in the field--but she wouldn't let him make me. +Donovan was Mary's husband. Mary was Mrs. Glover's girl's girl. Mrs. +Glover's girl was named Kate. + +Mrs. Glover had a whole flock of slaves. My mother and another woman +named Sallie cooked and did the washing. Fannie, she was my sister, was +old Mrs. Glover's maid. Robert and Sally and Lucy--they was my brother +and sisters--all of them worked in the field. They had to begin early +and work late. They got them out way fore day. They worked them til +dark. + +I remembers that Sally and Lucy used to wear boots and roll their skirts +up nearly to their waistses. Why--well you see sometimes it was muddy. +Did we raise rice--No, ma'am. We mostly raised corn and cotton, like +everybody else. + +We lived near Natchez. No ma'am, I never see but one colored person +whipped. His name was Robert. They laid him down on his stomach to whip +him. Never did hear what he had done. Maybe he run off. They usually +whipped them for that. No ma'am. I was right. Mrs. Glover didn't let her +colored folks be whipped. Robert, you see, was Donovan's man. He didn't +belong to Mrs. Glover. Her folks never got whipped. + +Maybe Robert run off. I don't know. The folks did one thing special to +keep them from running. They fastened a sort of yoke around they necks. +From it there run up a sort of piece and there was a bell on the top of +that. It was so high the folks who wore it couldn't reach the bell. But +if they run it would tinkle and folks could find them. I don't quite +know how it worked--I just slightly remembers. + +No, ma'am, I was just sort of a little girl before the war. You might +say I was never a slave. Cause I didn't have to work. Mrs. Glover +wouldn't let me work in the field and I didn't have much work to do in +the house either. Mrs. Glover was an old widow woman, but she was shore +good. Miss Kate was her onliest child. Kate's daughter was named Mary. + +Was I afraid of the soldiers? No ma'am. I wasn't. + +Lots of them that came through were colored soldiers. I remember that +they wore long tailed coats. They had brass buttons on they coats. But +we had to move from Natchez. + +First the soldiers run us off to Tennisaw Parish--an island there." (A +check on maps in the atlas of Encyclopedia Britannica reveals a Tenses +Parish, Louisiana--across the river and a few miles north of Natchez.) +"We couldn't even stay there. They drove us along, and finally we wound +up in Texas. + +We wasn't there in Texas long when the soldiers marched in to tell us +that we was free. Seems to me like it was on a Monday morning when they +come in. Yes, it was a Monday. They went out to the field and told them +they was free. Marched them out of the fields. They come a'shouting. I +remembers one woman, she jumped up on a barrell and she shouted. She +jumped off and she shouted. She jumped back on again and shouted some +more. She kept that up for a long time, just jumping on a barrell and +back off again. + +Yes ma'am, we children played. I remembers that the grown folks used to +have church--out behind an old shed. They'd shout and they'd sing. We +children didn't know what it all meant. But every Monday morning we'd +get up and make a play house in an old wagon bed--and we'd shout and +sing too. We didn't know what it meant, or what we was supposed to be +doing. We just aped our elders. + +When the war was over my brother, he drove the carriage, he drove the +white folks back to Natchez. But we didn't go--my family. We stopped +part way to Natchez. Never did see Miss Kate or Mrs. Glover again. Never +did see them again. Lots later my brother learned where we was. He came +back for us and took us to Natchez. But we never did see Mrs. Glover +again. + +I lived on in Natchez. I worked for white folks--cooked for them. I did +a lot of traveling. Even went up into Virginia. Traveled most of the +time. I'd go with one family and when we'd get back, there'd be another +one who wanted me to go and take care of their children. + +Been in Hot Springs since 1905. Worked for Dr. ---- first. Stayed right +in the house. Never did see such fine folks as Dr. ----" (prominent +local surgeon) "and his wife. Then I worked for Mr. ----" (prominent +realtor) "Yes, and I's worked at the Army and Navy Hospital too. Mighty +nice up there. Worked in the officer's mess--finest place up there. I's +worked for the officers too. Then I's worked for the Levi Hospital. +Worked for lots of folks. + +I's worked for lots of folks and in lots of places. But I haven't got +anything now. How soon do you think they will begin paying us? I get +just $10 from the county every month. $5 of that goes for my house. +Folks gives me clothes, but if they'd only give me groceries too, I +could get along. When do you think they will begin to pay us?" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Cal Woods; R.F.D., Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: 85? + + +"I don't know zactly how old I is. I was good size boy when the war come +on. We all belonged to a man named John Woods. We lived in South +Carolina during slavery. Slavery was prutty bad itself but the bad time +come after the war. The land was hilly some red and some pore and sandy. +Had to plough a mule or horse. Hard to make a living. Some folks was +rich, had heap of slaves and some bout one family. Small farmer have 160 +acres and one family of slaves. When a man had one or two slave families +he treated em better an if he had a great big acreage and fifteen or +twenty families. The white folks trained the black man and woman. If he +have so many they didn't learn how to do but one or two things. Mas +generally they all worked in the fields in the busy seasons and +sometimes the white folks have to work out there too. Sometimes they get +in debt and have to sell off some slave to pay the debt. + +"Things seemed heap mo plentiful. Before the war folks wore fine +clothes. They go to their nearest tradin point and sell cotton. They had +fine silk clothes and fine knives and forks. They would buy a whole case +o cheese at one time and a barrel of molasses. Folks eat more and worked +harder than they do now. + +"Some folks was mean to their slaves and some slaves mean. It is lack it +is now, some folks good no matter what dey color, other folks bad. Black +folks never knowed there was freedom till they was fighting and going to +war. Some say they was fightin to save their slaves, some say the Union +broke. The slave never been free since he come to dis world, didn't know +nuthin bout freedom till they tole em bout it. + +"I recollect bout the Ku Klux after the war. Some folks come over the +country and tell you you free and equal now. They tell you what to do an +how to run the country and then if you listen to them come the Ku Klux +all dressed half mile down the road. That Ku Klux sprung up after the +war bout votin an offis-holdin mong the white folks. The white folks +ain't then nor now havin no black man rulin over him. Them Ku Klux +walked bout on high sticks and drink all the water you have from the +spring. Seem lack they meddled a whole heap. Course the black folks +knowed they was white men. They hung some slaves and white Yankees too +if they be very mean. They beat em. Hear em hollowing and they hollow +too. They shoot all directions round and up an down the road. That's how +you know they comin close to yo house. If you go to any gatherins they +come break it up an run you home fast as you could run and set the dogs +on you. Course the dogs bite you. They say they was not goiner have +equalization if they have to kill all the Yankees and niggers in the +country. The masters sometime give em a home. My mother left John Woods +then. The family went back. He give her an my papa twenty acres their +lifetime. Where dey stayed on the old folks had a little at some places. +They didn't divide up no plantations I ever heard of. They never give em +no mules. If some tole em they would I know they sho didn't. Didn't give +em nuthin I tell you. My mother's name was Sylvia and papa's name was +Hack Woods. + +"I come to Arkansas so my little boys would have a home. I had a little +home an sold it to come out here. Agents come round showin pictures how +big the cotton grow. They say it grow like trees out here. The children +climb the stalks an set on the limb lack birds to pick it. They show +pictures like that. Cotton basket way down under it on the ground. See +droves of wild hogs coming up, look big as mules. Men ridin em. No I +didn't know they said it was so fine. We come in freight cars wid our +furniture and everything we brought. We had our provision in baskets and +big buckets. It lasted till we passed Atlanta. We nearly starved the +rest of the way. When we did stop you never hear such a hollein. We come +two days and nights hard as we could come. We stayed up and eat, cooked +meat an eggs on the stove in the store till daybreak. Then they showed +us wha to go to our places the next day. I been here ever since. + +"I hab voted. I done quit lettin votin bother me up. All I see it do is +give one fellow out of two or three a job both of them maybe ought to +have. The meanest man often gets lected. It the money they all after not +the work in it. I heard em say what all they do and when they got lected +they forgot to do all they say they would do. + +"I never knowed bout no slave uprisins. Thed had to uprose wid rocks an +red clods. The black man couldn't shoot. He had no guns. They had so +much work they didn't know how to have a uprisin. The better you be to +your master the better he treat you. The white preachers teach that in +the church." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Maggie Woods, + Brassfield, Ark. + Deaner Farm. +Age: 70 + + +"My parents was Fannie and Alfred Douglas. They had three children, then +he died and my mother married a man name Thompson. My parents belong to +the Douglasses at Summerville, Tennessee. They had six children in their +family. + +"I was born the second year of the surrender that make me seventy years +old. My folks was all field hands. They was all pure African stock. All +black folks like me. Grandma Liney Douglass said she was sold and +Grandpa was sold too. My own parents never was sold. The Douglass +men-folks whooped the slaves but they was good masters outside of that. + +"They would steal off and have preachin' at night. Had preachin' nearly +all night sometimes. They'd hurry and get in home fore the day be +breakin'. From the way they talked they done more prayin' than +preachin'. + +"Whenever they be sick they would send to the Douglasses to know what to +do. They would take them up to their house and doctor them or come down +to the quarters and wait on whoever be sick. They had some white doctors +about but not near enough. They trained black women to be midwives. + +"I think my folks had enough to eat and clothes too I recken. They eat +meat to give them strength to work. My old stepdaddy always make us eat +piece of meat if we eat garden stuff. He say the meat have strength in +it. Cornbread, meat, peas and potatoes used to be the biggest part of +folks livin' in olden days. They had plenty milk. + +"Children when I come on didn't have no use for money. We eat molasses. +Had a little candy once in a while. That be the best thing Santa Claus +would bring me. We get ginger cakes in our new stockings too. Santa +Claus been comin' ever since I been in the world. Seem like Christmas +never would come round agin. It don't seem near so long now. + +"I was too young to know about freedom. We was livin' on Douglas farm +when George Flenol (white) come and brought us to Indian Bay. We worked +on Dick Mayo's place. I don't know what they expected from freedom but +I'm pretty sure they never got nothing. + +"When the black folks come free then the Ku Klux took it up and made 'em +work and stay at home. I heard that some folks wanted to stay in the +road all the time. The Ku Klux nearly scared me to death to see pass by. +They never did bother us. + +"I don't vote. Don't know nothing about it. I don't like the way that is +fixed for us to live now. We pay house rent and works as day laborers. +It makes the work too heavy at some times and no work to do nearly all +the time. It is making times hard. Cotton and corn choppin' time and +cotton pickin' time is all the times a woman like me can work. I raised +a shoat. I got no room for garden and chickens. + +"I got one girl, she way from here, she sent me $2.00 for my Christmas. + +"The young generation is weaker in body than us old folks has been. They +ain't been raised to hard work and they don't hold out. + +"That is salve I'm making. What do it smell like? It smell like +chitlings. In that sack is the inside of the chitlings (hog manure). I +boil it down and strain it, then boll it down, put camphor gum and fresh +lard in it, boil it down low and pour it up. It is a green salve. It is +fine for piles, rub your back for lumbago, and swab out your throat for +sore throat. It is a good salve. I had a sore throat and a black woman +told me how to make it. It cures the sore throat right now. + +"I live on what I am able to work and make. I never have got no help +from the government." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Sam Word, 1122 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I'm a sure enough Arkansas man, born in Arkansas County near De Witt. +Born February 14, 1859, and belonged to Bill Word. I know Marmaduke come +down through Arkansas County and pressed Bill Word's son Tom into the +service. + +"I 'member one song they used to sing called the 'Bonnie Blue Flag.' + + 'Jeff Davis is our President + And Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + + 'Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern rights, + Hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag + That bears a Single Star!'" + +(The above verse was sung to the tune of "The Bonnie Blue Flag." From +the Library of Southern Literature I find the following notation about +the original song and its author, Harry McCarthy: "Like Dixie, this +famous song originated in the theater and first became popular in New +Orleans. The tune was borrowed from 'The Irish Jaunting Car', a popular +Hibernian air. Harry McCarthy was an Irishman who enlisted in the +Confederate army from Arkansas. The song was written in 1861. It was +published by A.E. Blackmar who declared General Ben Butler 'made it very +profitable by fining every man, woman, or child who sang, whistled or +played it on any instrument twenty-five dollars.' Blackmar was arrested, +his music destroyed, and a fine of five hundred dollars imposed upon +him.") + +"I stayed in Arkansas County till 1866. I was about seven years old and +we moved here to Jefferson County. Then my mother married again and we +went to Conway County and lived a few years, and then I come back to +Jefferson County, so I've lived in Jefferson County sixty-eight years. + +"In Conway County when I was a small boy livin' on the Milton Powell +place, I 'member they sent me out in the field to get some peaches about +a half mile from the slave quarters. It was about three o'clock, late +summer, and I saw something in the tree--a black lookin' concern. Seem +like it got bigger the closer I got, and then just disappeared all of a +sudden and I didn't see it go. I know I went back without any peaches. + +"And another thing I can tell you. In the spring of the year we was +hoein' and when they quit at night they'd leave the hoes in the field, +stickin' down in the ground. And next morning they wouldn't be where you +left 'em. You'd have to look for 'em and they'd be lyin' on top of the +ground and crossed just like sticks. + +"I'll tell you what I do know. When we was livin' in Conway County old +man Powell had about ten colored families he had emigrated from +Jefferson County. Our folks was the only colored people in that +neighborhood. And he had a white man that was a tenant on the place and +he died. Now my mother and his wife used to visit one another. In them +days the white folks wasn't like they are now. And so mother went there +to sit up with his wife. And while she was sittin' up the house was full +of people--white and colored. They begin to hear a noise about the +coffin. So they begin to investigate the worse it got and moved around +the room and it lasted till he was took out of the house. Now I've heard +white and colored say that was true. They never did see it but they +heard it. + +"I don't think there is any ghosts now but they was in the past +generation. + +"I know many times me and my stepfather would be pickin' cotton and my +dog would be up at the far end of the row and just before dark he'd +start barkin' and come towards us a barkin' and we never could see +anything. He'd do that every day. It was a dog named Natch--an English +bull terrier. He was give to me a puppy. He was a sure enough bulldog +and he could whip any dog I ever saw. He was an imported dog. + +"I remember a house up in Conway County made out of logs--a two-story +one just this side of Cadron Creek on the Military Road. Then they +called it the Wire Road because the telegraph wire run along it. The +house was vacant after the people that owned it had died, and people +comin' along late at night would stop to spend the night, and in the +middle of the night they'd have to get out. Now I've heard that with my +own ears. There was a spring not far from the house. It had been a fine +house and was a beautiful place to stop. But in the night they'd hear +chairs rattlin' and fall down. It's my belief they had spooks in them +old days. + +"Now I'll tell you another incident. This was in slave times. My mother +was a great hand for nice quilts. There was a white lady had died and +they were goin' to have a sale. Now this is true stuff. They had the +sale and mother went and bought two quilts. And let me tell you, we +couldn't sleep under 'em. What happened? Well, they'd pinch your toes +till you couldn't stand it. I was just a boy and I was sleepin' with my +mother when it happened. Now that's straight stuff. What do I think was +the cause? Well, I think that white lady didn't want no nigger to have +them quilts. I don't know what mother did with 'em, but that white lady +just wouldn't let her have 'em. + +"Now I'm puttin' the oil out of the can--I mean that what I say is true. +People now will say they ain't nothin' to that story. At that time the +races wasn't 'malgamated. But people are different now--ain't like they +was seventy-five years ago. + +"Visions? Well, now I'm glad you asked me that. I'll take pleasure in +tellin' you. Two years before I moved to this place I had a vision and I +think I saw every colored person that was ever born in America, I +believe. I was on the east side of my house and this multitude of people +was about four feet from me and they was as thick as sardines in a box +and they was from little tots up. Some had on derby hats and some was +bareheaded. I talked with one woman--a brown skinned woman. They was +sitting on seats just like circus seats just as far as my eyes could +behold. Looked like they reached clear up in the sky. That was when I +fust went blind. You've read about how John saw the multitude a hundred +forty and four thousand and I think that was about one-fourth of what I +saw. They was happy and talkin' and nothin' but colored people--no white +people. + +"Another vision I had. I dreamed that the day that I lived to be +sixty-five, that day I would surely die. I thought the man that told me +that was a little old dried-up white man up in the air and he had scales +like the monkey and the cat weighed the cheese. I thought he said, 'That +day you will surely die,' and one side of the scales tipped just a +little and then I woke up. You know I believed this strong. That was in +1919 and I went out and bought a lot in Bellwood Cemetery. But I'm still +livin'. + +"Old Major Crawley who owned what they called the Reader place on this +side of the river, four miles east of Dexter, he was supposed to have +money buried on his place. He owned it during slavery and after he died +his relatives from Mississippi come here and hired a carriage driver +named Jackson Jones. He married my second cousin. And he took 'em up +there to dig for the money, but I don't know if they ever found it. Some +people said the place was ha'nted." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Sam Word + 1122 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born February 14, 1859. My birthplace was Arkansas County. Born +in Arkansas and lived in Arkansas seventy-eight years. I've kept up with +my age--didn't raise it none, didn't lower it none. + +"I can remember all about the war, my memory's been good. Old man Bill +Word, that was my old master, had a son named Tom Word and long about in +'63 a general come and pressed him into the Civil War. I saw the Blue +and the Gray and the gray clothes had buttons that said C.S., that meant +secessioners. Yankees had U.S. on their buttons. Some of em come there +so regular they got familiar with me. Yankees come and wanted to hang +old master cause he wouldn't tell where the money was. They tied his +hands behind him and had a rope around his neck. Now this is the +straight goods. I was just a boy and I was cryin' cause I didn't want em +to hang old master. A Yankee lieutenant comes up and made em quit--they +was just the privates you know. + +"My old master drove a ox wagon to the gold fields in California in '49. +That's what they told me--that was fore I was born. + +"Good? Ben Word good? My God Amighty, I wish I had one-hundredth part of +what I got then. I didn't exist--I lived. + +"Ben Word bought my mother from Phil Ford up in Kentucky. She was the +housekeeper after old mistress died. I'll tell you something that may be +amusing. Mother had lots of nice things, quilts and things, and kept em +in a chest in her little old shack. One day a Yankee soldier climbed in +the back window and took some of the quilts. He rolled em up and was +walking out of the yard when mother saw him and said, 'Why you nasty, +stinkin' rascal. You may you come down here to fight for the niggers, +and now you're stealin' from em.' He said, 'You're a G-D--liar, I'm +fightin' for $14 a month and the Union.' + +"I member there was a young man named Dan Brown and they called him Red +Fox. He'd slip up on the Yankees and shoot em, so the Yankees was always +lookin' for him. He used to go over to Dr. Allen's to get a shave and +his wife would sit on the front porch and watch for the Yankees. One day +the Yankees slipped up in the back and his wife said, 'Lord, Dan, +there's the Yankees.' Course he run and they shot him. One of the +Yankees was tryin' to help him up and he said, 'Don't you touch me, call +Dr. Allen.' Yes ma'm, that was in Arkansas County. + +"I never been anywhere 'cept Arkansas, Jefferson, and Conway Counties. I +was in Conway County when they went to the precinct to vote for or +against the Fort Smith & Little Rock Railroad. The precinct where they +went to vote was Springfield. It used to be the county seat of Conway +County. + +"While the war was goin' on and when young Tom Word would come home from +school, he learned me and when the war ended, I could read in McGuffy's +Third Reader. After that I went to school three months for about four +years. + +"Directly after Emancipation, the white men in the South had to take the +Oath of Allegiance. Old master took it but he hated to do it. Now these +are stubborn facts I'm givin' you but they's true. + +"After freedom mother brought me here to Pine Bluff and put me in the +field. I picked up corn stalks and brush and carried water to the hands. +Children in them days worked. After they come from school, even the +white children had work to do. Trouble with the colored folks now, to my +way of thinkin', is they are top heavy with literary learning and +feather light with common sense and domestic training. + +"I remember a song they used to sing daring the war: + + 'Jeff Davis is our President + Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + +"And here's another one: + + 'Hurrah for Southern rights, hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonny Blue Flag + That bore the single star.' + +"Yes, they was hants sixty years ago. The generation they was interested +has bred em out. Ain't none now. + +"I never did care much for politics, but I've always been for the South. +I love the Southland. Only thing I don't like is they don't give a +square deal when it comes between the colored and the Whites. Ten years +ago, I was worth $15,000 and now I'm not worth fifteen cents. The real +estate men got the best of me. I've been blind now for four years and +all my wife and I have is what we get from the Welfare." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Ike Worthy + 2413 W. 11th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age 74 + + +"I was born in Selma, Alabama on Christmas day and I'm goin' on 75. + +"I can 'member old missis' name Miss Liza Ann Bussey. I never will +forget her name. Fed us in a trough--eighteen of us. Her husband was +named Jim Bussey, but they all dead now. + +"When I got large enough to remember we went to Louisiana. I was sixteen +when we left Alabama--six hundred head of us. Dr. Bonner emigrated us +there for hisself and other white men. + +"There was nine of us boys in my parents' family. We worked every day +and cleared land till twelve o'clock at night. On Saturday we played +ball and on Sunday we went to Sunday school. + +"We worked on the shares--got half--and in the fall we paid our debts. +Sometimes we had as much as $150 in the clear. + +"Most money I ever had was farmin'. I farmed 52 years and never did buy +no feed. Raised my own meat and lard and molasses. Had four milk cows +and fifteen to twenty hogs. You see, I had eight children in the family. + +"Never went to school but one day in my life, then my father put us to +work. Never learned to read. You see everybody in the pen now'days got a +education. I don't think too much education is good for 'em. + +"I was 74 Christmas day. + +"Garland, Brewster--the sheriff and the judge--I missed them boys when +they was little. Worked at the brickyard. + +"I got shot accidental and lost my right leg 32 years ago when I was +farmin'. I've chopped cotton and picked cotton with this peg-leg. Mr. +Emory say he don't see how I can do it but I goes right along. I made +$21 pickin' and $18 choppin' last year. I picked up until Thanksgiving +night. + +"I worked at the Long-Bell Lumber Company since I had this peg-leg too. +I stayed in Little Rock 23 years. Had a wood yard and hauled wood. + +"Yes ma'am, I voted the 'Publican ticket. No ma'am, I never did hold any +office. + +"I don't know what goin' come of the younger generation. To my idea I +don't think there's anything to 'em. They is goin' to suffer when all +the old ones is dead. + +"I goes to the Zion Methodist Church. No ma'am, I'm not a preacher--just +a bench member." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Alice Wright + 2418 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 74 + + +"I was born way yonder in slavery time. I don't know what part of +Alabama nor exactly when, but I was born in slavery time and it was in +Alabama. My oldest boy would be fifty-six years old if he were living. +My father said he was born in slavery time and that I was born in +slavery time. I was a baby, my papa said, when he ran off from his old +master and went to Mississippi. He lived in the thickets for a year to +keep his old master from finding out where he was. + + +Father, Mother and Family + +"My father's name was Jeff Williams. He's been dead a long time. Nobody +living but me and my children. My mother's name was Malinda Williams. My +father had seven children, four girls and five boys. Four of the boys +were buried on the Cummins (?) place. It used to be the old place of old +Man Flournoy's. My oldest brother was named Isaac. + +"I had sixteen children; four of them are still living--two boys and two +girls. The boys is married and the daughters is sick. No, honey, I can't +tell how many of em all was boys and girls. + + +House + +"My folks lived right in the white folks' yard. I don't know what kind +of house it was. My mother used to cook and do for the white folks. She +caught her death of cold going backward and forward milking and so on. + + +How the Children were Fed + +"They'd put a trough on the floor with wooden spoons and as many +children as could get around that trough got there and eat, they would. + + +How Freedom Came + +"Dolly and Evelyn were upstairs spinning thread and overheard the old +master saying that peace was declared but they didn't want the niggers +to know it. Father had them to throw their clothes out the windows. Then +he slipped out with them. Malinda Williams, my mother, came with them. +Dolly and Evelyn were my sisters. I don't know my master's name, but it +must have been Williams because all the slaves took their old master's +names when they were freed. I was a baby in my daddy's arms when he ran +away. + + +Patrollers + +"I heard my papa talk about the patrollers. He said they used to run +them in many a time. That is the reason he had to cross the bridge that +night going over the Mississippi into Georgia. The slaves had been set +free in Georgia, and he wanted to get there from Alabama. + + +What the Slaves Got + +"The slaves never got nothin' when they were freed. They just got out +and went to work for themselves. + + +Marriage + +"My father tended to the white folks' mules. He wasn't no soldier. When +he married my mother, he was only fifteen years old. His master told him +to go pick himself out a wife from a drove of slaves that were passing +through, and he picked out my mother. They married by stepping over the +broom. The old master pronounced them master and wife. + + +Slave Droves + +"The drove passed through Alabama, but my father didn't know where it +came from nor where it went. They were selling slaves. They would pick +up a big lot of them somewhere, and they would drive them across the +country selling some every place they stopped. My master bought my +mother out of the drove. Droves came through very often. I don't know +where they came from. + + +War Memories + +"My father remembered coming through Alabama. He remembered the soldiers +coming through Alabama. They didn't bother any colored people but they +killed a lot of white people, tore up the town and took some white +babies out and busted their brains out. That is what my father said. My +father died in 1910. He was pushing eighty then and maybe ninety. He had +a house full of grown children and grandchildren and great +grandchildren. He wasn't able to do no work when he died. It was during +the War that my father ran away into Georgia with me, too. + + +Breeding + +"My father said they put medicine in the water (cisterns) to make the +young slaves have more children. If his old master had a good breeding +woman he wouldn't sell her. He would keep her for himself. + + +Worship + +"When they were praying for peace they used to turn down the wash +kettles to keep the sound down. In the master's church, the biggest +thing that was preached to them was how to serve their master and +mississ. + + +Indians + +"My grandmother was a full-blood Indian. I don't know from what tribe. + + +Buried Treasure + +"People used to bury their money in iron pots and chests and things in +order to keep the soldiers from getting it. In Wabbaseka [HW: Ark.] +there they had money buried. They buried their money to keep the +soldiers from getting it. + + +Ku Klux + +"The Ku Klux Klan came after freedom. They used to take the people out +and whip them. + + +Just After the War + +"Immediately after the War, papa farmed. Most of it was down at the +Cummins place. When he ran away to Georgia, he didn't stay there. He +left and came back to Mississippi. I don't know just when my papa came +to the Cummins' place. It was just after the War. After be left the +Cummins' place he worked at the Smith place. Then he was farming agent +for sometime for old man Cook in Jefferson County. He would see after +the hands. + + +Voting + +"I ain't never voted in my life. I know plenty men that used to vote but +I didn't. I never heard of no women voting. + + +Occupation + +"I used to do field work. I washed and ironed until I got too old to do +anything. I can't do anything now. I ain't able. + + +Support + +"I get the old age pension and the Welfare give me some commodities for +myself and my sick daughter. She ain't been able to walk for a year. + + +Marriage + +"I married Willis Wright in July 1901. He did farming mostly. When he +died in 1928, he was working at the Southern Oil Mill. He didn't leave +any property." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Hannah Brooks Wright + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85 +Occupation: Laundress + + +"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery times. I was born on Elsa Brooks' +plantation in Mississippi. I don't know what year 'twas but I know 'twas +in slavery times. + +"I was a great big gal when the Yankees come through. I was Elsa Brooks' +house gal. + +"I remember when a man come through to 'vascinate' all the chillun that +was born in slavery times. I cut up worse than any of 'em--I bit him. I +thought he was gwine cut off my arm. Old missis say our names gwine be +sent to the White House. Old missis was gwine around with him tryin' to +calm 'em down. + +"And the next day the Yankees come through. The Lord have mercy! I +think I was 'bout twelve years old when freedom come. We used to ask old +missis how old we was. She'd say, 'Go on, if I tell you how old you is, +your parents couldn't do nothin' with you. Jus' tell folks you was born +in slavery times!' Gramma wouldn't tell me neither. She'd say, 'You +hush, you wouldn't work if you knowed how old you is.' + +"I used to sit on the lever a many a day and drive the mule at the gin. +You don't know anything 'bout that, do you? + +"I remember one time when the Yankees was comin' through. I was up on +top of a rail fence so I could see better. I said, 'Just look a there at +them bluebirds.' When the Yankees come along one of 'em said, 'You get +down from there you little son of a b----.' I didn't wait to climb down, +I jus' fell down from there. Old missis come down to the quarters in her +carriage--didn't have buggies in them days, just carriages--to see who +was hurt. The Yankees had done told her that one of her gals had fell +off the fence and got hurt. I said, 'I ain't hurt but I thought them +Yankees would hurt me.' She said, 'They won't hurt you, they is comin' +through to tell you you is free.' She said if they had hurt me she would +jus' about done them Yankees up. She said Jeff Davis had done give up +his seat and we was free. + +"Our folks stayed with old missis as long as they lived. My mammy cooked +and I stayed in the house with missis and churned and cleaned up. Old +master was named Tom Brooks and her name was Elsa Brooks. Sometimes I +jus' called her 'missis.' + +"Old missis told the patrollers they couldn't come on her place and +interfere with her hands. I don't know how many hands they had but I +know they had a heap of 'em. + +"Sometimes missis would say it looked like I wanted to get away and +she'd say, 'Why, Hannah, you don't suffer for a thing. You stay right +here at the house with me and you have plenty to eat.' + +"I was the oldest one in my mammy's family. + +"I just went to school a week and mammy said they needed me at the +house. + +"Then my daddy put me in the field to plow. Old missis come out one day +and say, 'Bill, how come you got Hannah plowin'? I don't like to see her +in the field.' He'd say, 'Well, I want to learn her to work. I ain't +gwine be here always and I want her to know how to work.' + +"They had me throwin' the shickles (shuttles) in slavery times. I used +to handle the cyards (cards) too. Then I used to help clean up the milk +dairy. I'd be so tired I wouldn't know what to do. Old missis would say, +'Well, Hannah, that's your job.' + +"We used to have plenty to eat, pies and cakes and custards. More than +we got now. + +"I own this place if I can keep payin' the taxes. + +"Old missis used to say, 'You gwine think about what I'm tellin' you +after I'm dead and gone.' + +"Young folks call us old church folks 'old _ism_ folks,' 'old fogies.' +They say, 'You was born in slavery times, you don't know nothin.' You +can't tell 'em nothin'. + +"I follows my mind. You ain't gwine go wrong if you does what your mind +tells you." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Tom Yates, Marianna. Arkansas +Age: 66 + + +"I was born in 1872 in Mississippi, on Moon Lake. Mama said she was +orphan. She was sold when she was a young woman. She said she come from +Richmond, Virginia to Charleston, South Carolina. Then she was brought +to Mississippi and married before freedom. She had two husbands. Her +owners was Master Atwood and Master Curtis Burk. I don't know how it +come about nor which one bought her. She had four children and I'm the +youngest. My sister lives in Memphis. + +"My father was sold in Raleigh, North Carolina. His master was Tom +Yeates. I'm named fer some of them. Papa's name was William Yeates. He +told us how he come to be sold. He said they was fixing to sell grandma. +He was one of the biggest children and he ask his mother to sell him and +let grandma raise the children. She wanted to stay with the little ones. +He said he cried and cried long after they brought him away. They all +cried when he was sold, he said. I don't know who bought him. He must +have left soon after he was sold, for he was a soldier. He run away and +want in the War. He was a private and mustered out at DeValls Bluff, +Arkansas. That is how come my mother to come here. He died in 1912 at +Wilson, Arkansas. He got a federal pension, thirty-six dollars, every +three months. He wasn't wounded, or if he was I didn't hear him speak of +it. He didn't praise war." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Annie Young, 913 West Scull Street, + Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"My old master's name was Sam Knox. I 'members all my white people. My +mother was the cook. + +"We had a good master and a good mistress too. I wish I could find some +of my master's family now. But after the war they broke up and went up +North. + +"I 'member well the day my old master's son got killed. My mother was +workin' in the field and I know she come to the house a cryin'. I +'member well when we was out in the plum nursery and could hear the +cannons. My white girl Nannie told me 'Now listen, that's the war a +fightin'.' + +"The soldiers used to come along and sometimes they were in a hurry and +would grab something to eat and go on and then sometimes they would sit +down to a long table. + +"I could hear my great grandmother and my mother talkin' 'We'll be free +after awhile.' + +"After the war my stepfather come and got my mother and we moved out in +the piney woods. My stepfather was a preacher and sometimes he was a +hundred miles from home. My mother hired out to work by the day. I was +the oldest of seven chillun and when I got big enough to work they +worked me in the field. When we cleaned up the new ground we got fifty +cents a day. + +"I was between ten and twelve years old when I went to school. My first +teacher was white. But I tell you the truth, I learned most after my +children started to school. + +"I worked twenty-three years for the police headquarters. I was janitor +and matron too. I washed and ironed too. I been here in Pine Bluff about +fifty or sixty years. + +"If justice was done everybody would have a living. I earned the money +to buy this place and they come and wanted me to sign away my home so I +could get the old age pension but I just had sense enough not to do it. +I'm not goin' sign away my home just for some meat and bread." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: John Young + 925 E. 15th Ave., Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 92 + + +"Well, I don't know how old I is. I was born in Virginia, but my mother +was sold. She was bought by a speculator and brought here to Arkansas. +She brought me with her and her old master's name was Ridgell. We lived +down around Monticello. I was big enough to plow and chop cotton and +drive a yoke of oxen and haul ten-foot rails. + +"Oh Lord, I don't know how many acres old master had. He had a +territory--he had a heap a land. I remember he had a big old carriage +and the carriage man was Little Alfred. The reason they called him that +was because there was another man on the place called Big Alfred. They +won't no relation--just happen to be the same name. + +"I remember when the Yankees come and killed old master's hogs and +chickens and cooked 'em. There was a good big bunch of Yankees. They +said they was fightin' to free the niggers. After that I runned away and +come up here to Pine Bluff and stayed awhile and then I went to Little +Rock and jined the 57th colored infantry. I was the kittle drummer. We +marched right in the center of the army. We went from Little Rock to +Fort Smith. I never was in a big battle, just one little scrummage. I +was at Fort Smith when they surrendered and I was mustered out at +Leavenworth, Kansas. + +"My grandfather went to war as bodyguard for his master, but I was with +the Yankees. + +"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my grandmother's house. They nearly +scared us to death. I run and hid under the bed. They didn't do nothin', +just the looks of 'em scared us. I know they had the old folks totin' +water for 'em. Seemed like they couldn't get enough. + +"After the war I come home and went to farmin'. Then I steamboated for +four years. I was on the Kate Adams, but I quit just 'fore it burned, +'bout two or three weeks. + +"I never went to school a minute in my life. I had a chance to go but I +just didn't. + +"No'm I can't remember nothin' else. It's been so long it done slipped +my memory." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: John Young + 923 E. Fifteenth, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 89 + + +"I know I was born in Arkansas. The first place I recollect I was in +Arkansas. + +"I was a drummer in the Civil War. I played the little drum. The bass +drummer was Rheuben Turner. + +"I run off from home in Drew County. Five or six of us run off here to +Pine Bluff. We heard if we could get with the Yankees we'd be free, so +we run off here to Pine Bluff and got with some Yankee soldiers--the +twenty-eighth Wisconsin. + +"Then we went to Little Rock and I j'ined the fifty-seventh colored +infantry. I thought I was good and safe then. + +"We went to Fort Smith from Little Rock and freedom come on us while we +was between New Mexico and Fort Smith. + +"They mustered us out at Fort Leavenworth and I went right back to my +folks in Drew County, Monticello. + +"I've been a farmer all my life till I got too old." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: A Folk History +of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, +by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11422 *** diff --git a/11422-h/11422-h.htm b/11422-h/11422-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bfa4dfe --- /dev/null +++ b/11422-h/11422-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8242 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936-1938: +Arkansas Narratives, Volume II, Part 7</title> +<meta name="author" content="Federal Writers' Project"> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11422 ***</div> + +<p>[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note</p> +<p>[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note</p> + +<hr 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 7</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="#VadenCharlie">Vaden, Charlie</a><br> +<a href="#VadenEllen">Vaden, Ellen</a><br> +<a href="#VanBurenNettie">Van Buren, Nettie</a><br> +<a href="#VaughnAdelaideJ">Vaughn, Adelaide J.</a><br> +<br><br> +<a href="#WadilleEmmeline">Wadille [TR: Waddille], Emmeline</a> + [TR: interview]<br> +<a href="#WaddellEmiline">Wadille (Waddell), Emmeline (Emiline)</a> + [TR: report]<br> +<a href="#WaldonHenry">Waldon, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#WalkerClara">Walker, Clara</a><br> +<a href="#WalkerHenry">Walker, Henry</a> + [TR: interview]<br> +<a href="#WalkerHenry2">Walker, Henry</a> + [TR: information]<br> +<a href="#WalkerJake1">Walker, Jake</a><br> +<a href="#WalkerJake2">Walker, Jake</a><br> +<a href="#WallaceWillie">Wallace, Willie</a><br> +<a href="#WarriorEvans">Warrior, Evans</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonAnna">Washington, Anna</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonEliza">Washington, Eliza</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonJennie">Washington, Jennie</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonParrish">Washington, Parrish</a><br> +<a href="#WatsonCaroline">Watson, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#WatsonMary">Watson, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WayneBart">Wayne, Bart</a><br> +<a href="#WeathersAnnieMae">Weathers, Annie Mae</a><br> +<a href="#WeathersCora">Weathers, Cora</a><br> +<a href="#WebbIshe">Webb, Ishe</a><br> +<a href="#WellsAlfred">Wells, Alfred</a><br> +<a href="#WellsDouglas">Wells, Douglas</a><br> +<a href="#WellsJohn">Wells, John</a><br> +<a href="#WellsSarah">Wells, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#WellsSarahWilliams">Wells, Sarah Williams</a><br> +<a href="#WesleyJohn">Wesley, John</a><br> +<a href="#WesleyRobert">Wesley, Robert</a><br> +<a href="#WesmolandMaggie">Wesmoland, Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#WestCalvin">West, Calvin</a><br> +<a href="#WestMaryMays">West, Mary Mays</a><br> +<a href="#WethingtonSylvester">Wethington, Sylvester</a><br> +<a href="#WhitakerJoe">Whitaker, Joe</a><br> +<a href="#WhiteJuliaA">White, Julia A.</a><br> +<a href="#WhiteJulia">White, Julia</a> + [TR: second interview]<br> +<a href="#WhiteLucy">White, Lucy</a><br> +<a href="#WhitemanDavid">Whiteman, David</a><br> +<a href="#WhitesideDolly">Whiteside, Dolly</a><br> +<a href="#WhitfieldJW">Whitfield, J.W.</a><br> +<a href="#WhitmoreSarah">Whitmore, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#WilbornDock">Wilborn, Dock</a><br> +<a href="#WilksBell">Wilks, Bell</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsBell">Williams, Bell</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsCharley">Williams, Charley</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsCharlie">Williams, Charlie</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsColumbus">Williams, Columbus</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsFrank">Williams, Frank</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsGus">Williams, Gus</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsHenrietta">Williams, Henrietta</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsHenryAndrew">Williams, Henry Andrew (Tip)</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsJames">Williams, James</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsJohn">Williams, John</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsLillie">Williams, Lillie</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary1">Williams, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary2">Williams, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary3">Williams, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary3B">Williams, Mary</a> + [TR: second interview]<br> +<a href="#WilliamsRosenaHunt">Williams, Rosena Hunt</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsIIIWilliamBall">Williams, III, William Ball (Soldier)</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsonAnna">Williamson, Anna</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsonCallieHalsey">Williamson, Callie Halsey</a><br> +<a href="#WillisCharlotte">Willis, Charlotte</a><br> +<a href="#WilsonElla">Wilson, Ella</a><br> +<a href="#WilsonRobert">Wilson, Robert</a><br> +<a href="#WindhamTom1">Windham, Tom</a> + [TR: interview]<br> +<a href="#WindhamTomB">Windham, Tom</a> + [TR: story]<br> +<a href="#WindhamTom2">Windham, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#WiseAlice">Wise, Alice</a><br> +<a href="#WiseFrank">Wise, Frank</a><br> +<a href="#WithersLucy">Withers, Lucy</a><br> +<a href="#WoodsAnna">Woods, Anna</a><br> +<a href="#WoodsCal">Woods, Cal</a><br> +<a href="#WoodsMaggie">Woods, Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#WordSam">Word, Sam</a><br> +<a href="#WordSamB">Word, Sam</a> + [TR: second interview]<br> +<a href="#WorthyIke">Worthy, Ike</a><br> +<a href="#WrightAlice">Wright, Alice</a><br> +<a href="#WrightHannahBrooks">Wright, Hannah Brooks</a><br> +<br><br> +<a href="#YatesTom">Yates, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#YoungAnnie">Young, Annie</a><br> +<a href="#YoungJohn1">Young, John</a><br> +<a href="#YoungJohn2">Young, John</a><br> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VadenCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Irene Robertson<br> +Subject: NEGRO LORE<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Charlie Vaden<br> +Place of Residence: Hazen, Green Grove, Ark.<br> +Occupation: Farming<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +Charlie Vaden's father ran away and went to the war to fight. He was a +slave and left his owner. His mother died when he was five years old but +before she died she gave Charlie to Mrs. Frances Owens (white lady). She +came to Des Arc and ran the City Hotel. He never saw his father till he +was grown. He worked for Mrs. Owens. He never did run with colored folks +then. He nursed her grandchildren, Guy and Ira Brown. When he was grown +he bought a farm at Green Grove. It consisted of a house and forty-seven +acres of land. He farmed two years. A fortune teller came along and told +him he was going to marry but he better be careful that they wouldn't +live together or he might "drop out." He went ahead and married like he +was "fixing" to do. They just couldn't get along, so they got divorced. +</p> +<p> +They had the wedding at her house and preacher Isarel Thomas (colored) +married them and they went on to his house. He don't remember how she +was dressed except in white and he had a "new outfit too." +</p> +<p> +Next he married Lorine Rogers at the Green Grove Church and took her +home. She fell off the porch with a tub of clothes and died from it just +about a year after they married. +</p> +<p> +He married again at the church and lived with her twenty years. They had +four girls and four boys. She died from the change of life. +</p> +<p> +The last wife he didn't live with either. She is still living. +</p> +<p> +Had another fortune teller tell his fortune. She said, "Uncle, you are +pretty good but be careful or you'll be walking around begging for +victuals." He said it had nearly come to that now except it hurt him to +walk. (He can hardly walk.) He believes some of what the fortune tellers +tell comes true. He has been on the same farm since 1887, which is +forty-nine years, and did fine till four years ago. He can't work, +couldn't pay taxes, and has lost his land. +</p> +<p> +He was paralized five months, helpless as a baby, couldn't dress +himself. An herb doctor settled at Green Grove and used herbs for tea +and poultices and cured him. The doctors and the law run him out of +there. His name was Hopkins from Popular Bluff, Missouri. +</p> +<p> +Charlie Vaden used to have rheumatism and he carried a buckeye in each +pants pocket to make the rheumatism lighter. He thought it did some +good. +</p> +<p> +He has a birthmark. Said his mother must have craved pig tails. He never +had enough pig tails to eat in his life. The butchers give them to him +when he comes to Hazen or Des Arc. He said he would "fight a circle saw +for a pig tail." +</p> +<p> +He can't remember any old songs or old tales. In fact he was too small +when his mother died (five years old). +</p> +<p> +He believes in herb medicine of all kinds but can't remember except +garlic poultice is good for neuralgia. Sassafras is a good tea, a good +blood purifier in the spring of the year. +</p> +<p> +He knows a weather sign that seldom or never falls. "Thunder in the +morning, rain before noon." "Seldom rains at night in July in Arkansas." +</p> +<p> +He has seen lots of lucky things but doesn't remember them. "It's bad +luck to carry hoes and rakes in the living house." "It's bad luck to spy +the new moon through bushes or trees." +</p> +<p> +He doesn't believe in witches, but he believes in spirits that direct +your course as long as you are good and do right. He goes to church all +the time if they have preaching. Green Grove is a Baptist church. He is +not afraid of dead people. "They can't hurt you if they are dead." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VadenEllen"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Ellen Vaden<br> + DeValls Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> +<p>" +I am 83 years old. My mother come from Georgia. She left all her kin. +Our owner was Dave and Luiza Johnson. They had two girls and a +boy--Meely, Colly and Tobe. My mother's aunt come to Memphis in slavery +time and come to see us. She cooked and bought herself free. The folks +what owned her hired her out till they got paid her worth. She died in +Memphis. I never heard father say where he come from or who owned him. +He lived close by somewhere. +</p> +<p> +"I don't remember freedom. I know the Ku Klux was bad around Augusta, +Arkansas. One time when I was little a crowd of Ku Klux come at about +dusk. They told Dave Johnson they wanted water. He told them there was a +well full but not bother that woman and her children in the kitchen. +Dave Johnson was a Ku Klux himself. They went on down the road and met a +colored woman. She knowed their horses. She called some of them by name +and they let her alone. +</p> +<p> +"One time a colored man was settin' by the fire. His wife was sick in +bed. He seen the Ku Klux coming and said 'Lord God, here comes the +devil.' He run off. They didn't bother her. She told them she was sick. +When she got up and well she wouldn't live with that husband no more. +</p> +<p> +"Up at Bowens Ridge they took some colored men out one night and if they +said they was Republicans they let them go but if they said they was +Democrats they whooped them so hard they nearly killed some of them. +Some said they was bushwhackers or carpet baggers and not Ku Klux. +</p> +<p> +"I am a country-raised woman. I had a light stroke and cain't work in +the field. I get $8.00 and commodities. I like to live here very well. I +don't meddle with young folks business. Seems like they do mighty +foolish things to me. Times been changing ever since I come in this +world. It is the people cause the times to change. I wouldn't know how +to start to vote." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VanBurenNettie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Nettie Van Buren, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> + Ex school-teacher<br> +Age: 62</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My mother was named Isabel Porter Smith. She come from Springville. +Rev. Porter brought her to Mississippi close to Holly Springs. Then she +come to Batesville, Arkansas. He owned her. He was a circuit rider. I +think he was a Presbyterian minister. I heard her say they brought her +to Arkansas when she was a small girl. She nursed and cooked all the +time. After freedom she went with Reverend Porter's relatives to work +for them. I know so very little about what she said about slavery. +</p> +<p> +"My father was raised in North Carolina. His name was Jerry Smith and +his master he called Judge Smith. My father made all he ever had +farmin'. He knew how to raise cotton. He owned a home. This is his home +(a nice home on River Street in Clarendon) and 80 acres. He sold this +farm two miles from here after he had paralysis, to live on. +</p> +<p> +"My parents had two girls and two boys. They all dead but me. My +mother's favorite song was "Oh How I Love Jesus Because He First Loved +Me." They come here because my mother had a brother down here and she +heard it was such fine farmin' land. +</p> +<p> +"When I was a little girl my father was a Presbyterian so he sent me to +boardin' school in Cotton Plant and then sent me to Jacksonville, +Illinois. I worked my board out up there. Mrs. Dr. Carroll got me a +place to work. My sister learned to sew. She sewed for the public till +her death. She sewed for both black and white folks. I stretches +curtains now if I can get any to stretch and I irons. It give me +rheumatism to wash. I used to wash and iron. +</p> +<p> +"My husband cooks on a Government derrick boat. He gets $1.25 and his +board. They have the very best things to eat. He likes the work if he +can stay well. He can cook pies and fancy cookin'. They like that. Say +they can't hardly get somebody work long because they want to be in town +every night. +</p> +<p> +"We have one child. I used to be a primary teacher here at Clarendon. +</p> +<p> +"I never have voted. My husband votes but I don't know what he thinks +about it. +</p> +<p> +"I try to look at the present conditions in an encouraging way. The +young people are so extravagant. The old folks in need. The thing most +discouraging is the strangers come in and get jobs home folks could do +and need and they can't get jobs and got no money to leave on nor no +place to go. People that able to work don't work hard as they ought and +people could and willin' to work can't get jobs. Some of the young folks +do sure live wild lives. They think only of the present times. A few +young folks are buying homes but not half of them got a home. They work +where they let 'em have a room or a house. Different folks live all +kinds of ways." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VaughnAdelaideJ"></a> +<h3>Name of Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person Interviewed: Adelaide J. Vaughn<br> + 1122 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 69</h3> +<br> + +<p> +"I was born in Huntsville, Alabama. My mother brought me from there when +I was five years old. She said she would come to Arkansas because she +had heard so much talk about it. But when she struck the Arkansas line, +she didn't like it and she wanted to go back. I have heard her say why +but I don't remember now; I done forgot. She thought she wouldn't like +it here, but she did after she stayed a while. +</p> +<p> +"My bronchial tubes git all stopped up and make it hard for me to talk. +Phlegm gits all around. I been bothered with them a good while now. +</p> +<p> +"My mother, she was sold from her father when she was four years old. +The rest of the children were grown then. Master Hickman was the one who +bought her. I don't know the one that sold her. Hickman had a lot of +children her age and he raised her up with them. They were nice to her +all the time. +</p> +<p> +"Once the pateroles came near capturing her. But she made it home and +they didn't catch her. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Candle hired her from her master when she was about eighteen years +old. He was nice to her but his wife was mean. Just because mother +wouldn't do everything the other servants said Mis' Candle wanted to +whip her. Mother said she knew that Mis' Candle couldn't whip her alone. +But she was 'fraid that she would have Sallie, another old Negro woman +slave, and Kitty, a young Negro woman slave, to help whip her. +</p> +<p> +"One day when it was freezing cold, she wanted mother to stand out in +the hall with Sallie and Clara and wash the glasses in boiling hot +water. She was making her do that because she thought she was uppity and +she wanted to punish her. When mother went out, she rattled the dishes +'round in the pan and broke them. They was all glasses. Mis' Candle +heard them breaking and come out to see about it. She wanted to whip +mother but she was 'fraid to do it while she was alone; so she waited +till her husband come home. When he come she told him. He said she +oughtn't to have sent them out in the cold to wash the glasses because +nobody could wash dishes outside in that cold weather. +</p> +<p> +"The first morning she was at Mis' Candle's, they called her to eat and +they didn't have nothing but black molasses and corn bread for mother's +meal. The other two ate it but mother didn't. She asked for something +else. She said she wasn't used to eating that--that she ate what her +master and mistress ate at home. +</p> +<p> +"Mis' Candle didn't like that to begin with. She told my mother that she +was a smart nigger. She told mother to do one thing and then before she +could do it, she would tell her do something else. Mother would just go +on doing the first thing till she finished that, and Mis' Candle would +git mad. But it wasn't nobody's fault but her own. +</p> +<p> +"She asked mother to go out and git water from the spring on a rainy +day. Mother wouldn't go. Finally mother got tired and went back home. +Her mistress heard what she had to tell her about the place she'd been +working. Then she said mother did right to quit. She had worked there +for three or four months. They meant to keep her but she wouldn't stay. +Mis' Hickman went over and collected her money. +</p> +<p> +"When mother worked out, the people that hired her paid her owners. Her +owners furnished her everything she wanted to eat and clothes to wear, +and all the money she earned went to them. +</p> +<p> +"Mis' Candle begged Mr. Hickman to let him have mother back. He said +he'd talk to his wife and she wouldn't mistreat her any more but mama +said that she didn't want to go back and Mrs. Hickman said, 'No, she +doesn't want to go back and I wouldn't make her.' And the girls said, +'No, mama, don't let her go back.' And Mis' Hickman said, 'No, she was +raised with my girls and I am not going to let her go back.' +</p> +<p> +"The Hickmans had my mother ever since she was four years old. My +grandfather was allowed to go a certain distance with her when she was +sold away from him. He walked and carried her in his arms. Mama said +that when he had gone as far as they would let him go, he put her in the +wagon and turned his head away. She said she wondered why he didn't look +at her; but later she understood that he hated so bad to 'part from her +and couldn't do nothing to prevent it that he couldn't bear to look at +her. +</p> +<p> +"Since I have been grown I have worked with some people at Newport. I +stayed with them there and married there, and had all my children there. +</p> +<p> +"I heard the woman I lived with, a woman named Diana Wagner, tell how +her mistress said, 'Come on, Diana, I want you to go with me down the +road a piece.' And she went with her and they got to a place where there +was a whole lot of people. They were putting them up on a block and +selling them just like cattle. She had a little nursing baby at home and +she broke away from her mistress and them and said, 'I can't go off and +leave my baby.' And they had to git some men and throw her down and hold +her to keep her from goin' back to the house. They sold her away from +her baby boy. They didn't let her go back to see him again. But she +heard from him after he became a young man. Some one of her friends that +knowed her and knowed she was sold away from her baby met up with this +boy and got to questioning him about his mother. The white folks had +told him his mother's name and all. He told them and they said, 'Boy, I +know your mother. She's down in Newport.' And he said, 'Gimme her +address and I'll write to her and see if I can hear from her.' And he +wrote. And the white people said they heard such a hollering and +shouting goin' on they said, 'What's the matter with Diana?' And they +came over to see what was happening. And she said, 'I got a letter from +my boy that was sold from me when he was a nursing baby.' She had me +write a letter to him. I did all her writing for her and he came to see +her. I didn't get to see him. I was away when he come. She said she was +willing to die that the Lord let her live to see her baby again and had +taken care of him through all these years. +</p> +<p> +"My father's name was Peter Warren and my mother was named Adelaide +Warren. Before she was married she went by her owner's name, Hickman. My +daddy belonged to the Phillips but he didn't go in their name. He went +in the Warren's name. He did that because he liked them. Phillips was +his real father, but he sold him to the Warrens and he took their name +and kept it. They treated him nice and he just stayed on in their name. +He didn't marry till after both of them were free. He met her somewheres +away from the Hickman's. They married in Alabama. +</p> +<p> +"Mama was born and mostly reared in Virginia and then come to Alabama. +That's where I was born, in Alabama. And they left there and came here. +I was four years old when they come here. +</p> +<p> +"I never did hear what my father did in slavery time. He was a twin. The +most he took notice of he said was his brother and him settin' on an old +three-legged stool. And his mother had left some soft soap on the fire. +His brother saw that the pot was goin' to turn over and he jumped up. My +father tried to get up too but the stool turned over and caught him, +caught his little dress and held him and the hot soap ran over his dress +and on to his bare skin. It left a big burn on his side long as he +lived. His mother was there close to the house because she knowed the +soap was on and those two little boys were in there. She heard him +crying and ran in and carried him to her master. He got the doctor and +saved him. My father's mother didn't do nothing after that but 'tend to +that baby. Her master loved those little boys and kept her and <u>didn't +sell her because of them</u>. (The underscoring is the interviewer's--ed.) +That was his last master--Warren. Warren loved him more than his real +father did. Warren said he knew my father would never live after he had +such a burn. But he did live. They never did let him do much work after +the accident. +</p> +<p> +"I think my father's master, Warren--I can't remember his first +name--farmed for a living. +</p> +<p> +"My father and mother had five children. I don't know how many brothers +my father had. I have heard my mother say she had four sisters. I never +heard her say nothin' 'bout no brothers--just sisters. +</p> +<p> +"I had six children. Got three living and three dead. They was grown +though when they died. I had three boys and three girls. I got two boys +living and one girl. The boy in St. Louis does pretty well. But the +other in Little Rock doesn't have much luck. If he'd get out of Little +Rock, he would find more to do. The one in St. Louis don't make much now +because they done cut wages. He's a dining-car waiter. This girl what's +here, she does all she can for me. She has a husband and my husband is +dead. He's been dead a long time. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to Bethel A.M.E. Church. You know where that is. Rev. Campbell +is a good man. We had him eight years. Then we got Brother Wilson one +year and then they put Campbell back. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what to think of these young people. Some of them is +running wild. +</p> +<p> +"When I was working for myself, I was generally a maid. But that is been +a long time ago. I washed and ironed and done laundry work when I was +able a long time ago. But I can't do it now. I can't do it for myself +now. I washed for myself a little and I got the flu and got in bad +health. That was about four years ago. I reckon it was the flu; I never +did have no doctor. When I take the least little cold, it comes back on +me." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +This old lady appears nearer eighty than sixty-nine, and she speaks with +the sureness of an eyewitness. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WadilleEmmeline"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Blanche Edwards <br> +Person interviewed: Emmeline Waddille (deceased)<br> + Lonoke County, Arkansas<br> +Age: 106</h3> +<br> +<p> +She immigrated with her owner, L.W.C. Waddille, to Lonoke County in +1851, coming to Hickory Plains and then to Brownsville. They moved from +Hayburn, Georgia in a covered wagon drawn by oxen. +</p> +<p> +She lived with a great-granddaughter, Mrs. John High, seven miles north +of Lonoke, until 1932, when she died. She had nursed six generations of +the Waddille family. She was born a deaf-mute but her hearing and speech +were restored many years ago when lightening struck a tree under which +she was standing. +</p> +<p> +Emmeline told of how they would stop for the night on the rough journey, +and while the men fed the stock, the women and slaves would cook the +evening meal of hoecake, fried venison, and coffee. The women slept in +the wagons and the men would sleep on the creek watching for wild life. +With other pioneers, they suffered all the hardships and dangers +incident to the settling of the new country more than three-fourths of a +century ago. +</p> +<p> +Emmeline always had good care. She worked hard and faithfully and was +amply rewarded. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WaddellEmiline"></a> +[HW: High] +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Blanche Edwards<br> +ADDRESS—Lonoke, Arkansas<br> +DATE—October 20, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—An Old Slave<br> +</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—Mrs. John G. High +<big><b>[TR: Emiline Waddell]</b></big>, living nine miles north of Lonoke, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—October 20, 1938.</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—At the home of Mrs. John G. High, nine miles +north of Lonoke.</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>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.</p> + +<br> +<p><b>Text of Interview</b></p> +<p> +Emiline Waddell, a former slave of the L.W. Waddell family, lived to be +106 years old, and was active up to her death. +</p> +<p> +She was born a slave in 1826 at Haben county, Georgia, a slave of +Claybourne Waddell, who emigrated to Brownsville, in 1851, in covered +wagons, oxen drawn. +</p> +<p> +Her "white folks" were three weeks making the trip from the ferry across +the Mississippi to old Brownsville; after traveling all day through the +bad and boggy woods, at the end of their rough journey at eventide, the +movers dismounted and began hasty preparations for the night. While the +men were feeding the stock and providing temporary quarters, the women +assisted the slaves in preparing the evening meal, of hoe-cake, fried +venison and coffee. Then the women and children would sleep in the +wagons while the men kept watch for wild life. +</p> +<p> +Mammy Emiline was a faithful old black mammy, true to life and +traditions, and refused her freedom, at the close of the war, as wanted +to stay and raise "Old Massa's chilluns," which she did, for she was +nursing her sixth generation in the Waddell family at the time of her +death. Even to that generation there was a close tie between the +southern child and his or her black mammy. A strange almost unbelievable +thing happened to Emiline; she was born a deaf mute, but her hearing and +speech was restored many years before her death, when lightening struck +a tree under which she was standing. +</p> +<p> +Superstitious beliefs were strong in her and her tales of "hants" were +to "her little white chilluns", really true but hair-raising. Then she +would talk and live again the "days that are no more", telling them of +the happy prosperous, sunny land, in her negro dialect, and then tell of +the ruin and desolation behind the Yankees; the hard times my white +folks had in the reconstruction days—negro and carpetbag rule; then +give them glimpses of good—much courage, some heart and human feeling; +perhaps ending with an outburst of the negro spiritual, her favorite +being, "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home." +</p> +<p> +After a faithful service of 106 years, Emiline died in 1932 at the home +of Mrs. John G. High, a great-granddaughter of L.W.C. Waddell living +nine miles north of Lonoke, and the grown up great-great-grandchildren +still miss Mammy. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WaldonHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Waldon<br> + 816 Walnut Street. North Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was plowing when they surrendered. I had just learned to plow, and +was putting up some land. My young master come home and was telling me +the War was ended and we was all free. +</p> +<p> +"I was born in Lauderdale County, Mississippi. I think it was about +1854. My father's name [HW: was] ----, my mother's [HW: was] ----, I +knew them both. +</p> +<p> +"My mother belonged to Sterling and my father belonged to a man named +Huff—Richmond Huff. +</p> +<p> +"We lived in Lauderdale County. Huff wouldn't sell my father and my +people wouldn't sell my mother. They lived about a mile or so apart. +They didn't marry in them days. The niggers didn't, that is. Father +would just come every Saturday night to see my mother. His cabin was +about three miles from her's. We moved from Lauderdale County to Scott +County, Mississippi, and that separated mama and papa. They never did +meet again. Of course, I mean it was the white people that moved, but +they carried mama and us with them. Papa and mama never did meet again +before freedom, and they didn't meet afterwards. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had twelve children—eight girls and four boys. She had one +by a man named Peter Smith. She was away from her husband then. She had +four by my father—two boys and two girls; my father's name was Peter +Huff. My mother's name was Mary Sterling. I never did see my father no +more after we moved away from him. +</p> +<p> +"My father made cotton and corn, plowed and hoed in slavery time. His +old master had seventy-five or eighty hands. His old master treated him +pretty rough. He whipped them about working. He never hired no overseer +over them. When he whipped them he took their shirts off and whipped +them on their naked backs. He cut the blood out of some of them. He +never did rub no salt nor vinegar in their wounds. His youngest son done +his overseeing. He would whip them sometime but he wasn't tight on them +like some that I knowed. +</p> +<p> +"A fellow by the name of Jim Holbert was mean to his slaves as a man +could be. He would whip them night and day. Work them till dark; then +they would eat supper. Cook their own supper. Had nothing to cook but a +little meat and bread and molasses. Then they would go back and bale up +three or four bales of cotton. Some nights they work till twelve o'clock +then get up before daylight—'round four o'clock—and cook their +breakfast and go to work again. That was on Jim Holbert and Lard Moore's +place. Them was two different men and two different places—plantations. +They whipped their slaves a good deal—always beating down on somebody. +They made their backs sore. Their backs would be bleeding just like they +cut it with knives. Then they would wash it down with water and salt. +</p> +<p> +"On my master's farm, each one cooked in his own cabin. While the hands +were working, my master left one child, the largest, stay there and +taken care of the little ones. +</p> +<p> +"They had bloodhounds too; they'd run you away in the woods. Send for a +man that had hounds to track you if you run away. They'd run you and bay +you, and a white man would ride up there and say, 'If you hit one of +them hounds, I'll blow your brains out.' He'd say 'your damn brains.' +Them hounds would worry you and bite you and have you bloody as a beef, +but you dassent to hit one of them. They would tell you to stand still +and put your hands over your privates. I don't guess they'd have killed +you but you believed they would. They wouldn't try to keep the hounds +off of you; they would set them on you to see them bite you. Five or six +or seven hounds bitin' you on every side and a man settin' on a horse +holding a doubled shotgun on you. +</p> +<p> +"My old miss's sister hired slave women out to old Jim Holbert once. One +of them was in a delicate state, and they dug a hole and put her stomach +down in it and whipped her till she could hardly walk. +</p> +<p> +"Holbert lived to see the niggers freed. All of his slaves left him +pretty well when freedom come. He managed to hold on to his money. He +didn't go to the War. He was pretty old. He had two sons in the War—his +wife had one in there and he had one. One of them got wounded but he +didn't die. +</p> +<p> +"My mistress's oldest son, Ed Sterling, got shot in the Civil War. He +got shot right in the side at Franklin, Tennessee. It tore his whole +side off—near about killed him. But he lived to ride paterole. He was +mean. Catch a man in bed with his wife at night, he'd whip him and make +him go home. He was the meanest man in the world. All the other sons +were better than he was. His name was Ed Sterling. +</p> +<p> +"The first thing I remember was work. You weren't allowed to remember +nothing but work in slave times and you got whipped about that. You +weren't allowed to go nowhere but carry the mules out to the pasture to +eat grass. Sometimes they jump the fence and go over in the field and +eat corn. Me and another fellow named Sandy used to watch them all day +Sunday. Watching the mules and working in the fields through the week +was the first work I remember. Me and my sister worked on one row. The +two of us made a hand. She is down in Texas somewheres now. They taken +her from old lady Sterling's place. She give them to her son and he +carried them down in Texas. He had a broken leg and never did go to the +war. If he did, I never knowed nothing about it. +</p> +<p> +"None of the masters never give me anything. None of them as I knows of +never give anything to any of the slaves when they freed 'em. Never give +a devilish thing. Told them that they was free as they was and that they +could stay there and help them make crops if they wanted to. The biggest +part of them stayed. The rest went away. Their husbands taken them away. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the war my mother married an old fellow who used to be old +Holbert's nigger driver. He stayed on Sterling's place one night. He +stayed there a year. Then he married my mother and went to old Holbert's +place and of course, we had to go too. I stayed there and worked for +him. And my mama too and the two youngest sisters and the youngest +brother stayed with me. I run away from him in '86. I went down the +railroad about five miles and an old colored fellow give me a job. He +used to belong to the railroad boss. +</p> +<p> +"I worked nearly two years on that railroad; then I left and come on +down to Arkansas. I have been right here on this spot about forty years. +I don't know how long it is been since I first come here, but it is been +a long time ago. I paid fire insurance on this place for thirty-nine +years. I lived over the river before I came to North Little Rock. I +worked for the railroad company thirty-eight years. It's been fifteen +years since I was able to work—maybe longer. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to Little Bethel Church (A.M.E.) here in North Little Rock. I +been a member of that church more than thirty-five years. +</p> +<p> +"I have been married twice, and I am the father of three children that +are living and two that dead—Tommy, Jim, Ewing, Mayzetta, and the baby. +He was too young to have a name when he died. +</p> +<p> +"I think things is worse than they ever was. Everything we get we have +to pay for, and then pay for paying for it. If it wasn't for my wife I +could hardly live because I don't get much from the railroad company." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerClara"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person interviewed: Aunt Clara Walker Aged: 111<br> + Home: "Flatwoods" district, Garland County. + Own property. +</h3> +<br> +<p><b>Story by Aunt Clara Walker</b></p> +<p> +"You'll have to wait a minute ma'am. Dis cornbread can't go down too +fas'. Yes ma'am, I likes cornbread. I eats it every meal. I wouldn't +trade just a little cornbread for all de flour dat is. +</p> +<p> +Where-bouts was I born? I was born right here in Arkansas. Dat is it was +between an on de borders of it an dat state to de south—yes ma'am, +dat's right, Louisiana. My mother was a slave before me. She come over +from de old country, she was a-runnin' along one day front of a—a—dat +stripedy animal—a tiger? an' a man come along on an elephant and scoop +her up an' put her on a ship. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am. My name's Clara Walker. I was born Clara Jones, cause my +pappy's name was Jones. But lots of folks called me Clara Cornelius, +cause Mr. Cornelius was de man what owned me. Did you ever hear of a +child born wid a veil over its face? Well I was one of dem! What it +mean? Why it means dat you can see spirits an' ha'nts, an all de other +creatures nobody else can see. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, some children is born dat way. You see dat great grandchild +of mine lyin' on de floor? He's dat way. He kin see 'em too. Is many of +'em around here? Lawsey dey's as thick as piss-ants. What does dey look +like? Some of 'em looks like folks; an' some of 'em looks like hounds. +When dey sees you, dey says "Howdy!" an' if you don't speak to 'em dey +takes you by your shoulders an dey shakes you. Maybe dey hits you on de +back. An' if you go over to de bed an lies in de bed an' goes to sleep, +dey pulls de cover off you. You got to be polite to 'em. What makes 'em +walk around? Well, I got it figgured out dis way. Dey's dissatisfied. +Dey didn't have time to git dey work done while dey was alive. +</p> +<p> +Dat greatgrandchild of mine, he kin see 'em too. Now my eight +grandchildren an' my three children what's alivin' none of 'em can see +de spirits. Guess dat greatgrandchild struck way back. I goes way back. +My ol' master what had to go to de war, little 'fore it was over told me +when he left dat I was 39 years old. Somebody figgured it out for me dat +I's 111 now. Dat makes me pretty old, don't it? +</p> +<p> +There was another fellow on a joinin' plantation. He was a witch doctor. +Brought him over from Africa. He didn't like his master, 'cause he was +mean. So he make a little man out of mud. An' he stick thorns in its +back. Sure 'nuff, his master got down with a misery in his back. An' de +witch doctor let de thorn stay in de mud-man until he thought his master +had got 'nuff punishment. When he tuck it out, his master got better. +</p> +<p> +Did I got to school. No ma'am. Not to book school. Dey wouldn't let +culled folks git no learnin'. When I was a little girl we skip rope an' +play high-spy (I Spy). All we had to do was to sweep de yard an go after +de cows an' de pigs an de sheep. An' dat was fun, cause dey was lots of +us children an we all did it together. +</p> +<p> +When I was 13 years old my ol' mistress put me wid a doctor who learned +me how to be a midwife. Dat was cause so many women on de plantation was +catchin' babies. I stayed wid dat doctor, Dr. McGill his name was, for 5 +years. I got to be good. Got so he'd sit down an' I'd do all de work. +</p> +<p> +When I come home, I made a lot o' money for old miss. Lots of times, +didn't sleep regular or git my meals on time for three—four days. Cause +when dey call, I always went. Brought as many white as culled children. +I's brought most 200, white an' black since I's been in Hot Springs. +Brought a little white baby—to de Wards it was—dey lived jest down de +lane—brought dat baby 'bout 7 year ago. +</p> +<p> +I's brought lots of 'em an' I ain't never lost a case. You know why. +It's cause I used my haid. When I'd go in, I'd take a look at de woman, +an' if it was beyond me, I'd say, 'Dis is a doctor case. Dis ain't no +case for a midwife. You git a doctor.' An' dey'd have to get one. I'd +jes' stan' before de lookin' glass, an' I wouldn't budge. Dey couldn't +make me. +</p> +<p> +I made a lot of money for ol' miss. But she was good to me. She give me +lots of good clothes. Those clothes an my mother's clothes burned up in +de fire I had a few years ago right on dis farm. Lawsey I hated loosin' +dose clothes I had when I was a girl more dan anything I lost. An' I +didn't have to work in de fields. In between times I cooked an' I would +jump in de loom. Yes, ma'am I could weave good. Did my yards every day. +I weave cloth for dresses—fine dresses you would use thread as thin as +dat you sews wid today—I weaves cloth for underclothes, an fo +handkerchiefs an for towels. Den I weaves nits and lice. What's +dat—well you see it was kind corse cloth de used for clothes like +overalls. It mas sort of speckeldy all over—dat's why dey called it +nits and lice. +</p> +<p> +Law, I used to be good once, but after I got all burned up I wasn't good +for so much. It happened dis way. A salt lick was on a nearby +plantation. Ever body who wanted salt, dey had to send a hand to help +make it. I went over one day—an workin' around I stepped on a live +coal. I move quick an' I fall plum over into a salt vat. Before dey got +me out I was pretty near ruined. +</p> +<p> +What did dey do? Dey killed a hog—fresh killed a hog. An' dey fry up de +fat—fry it up wid some of de hog hairs an' dey greesed me good. An' it +took all de fire out of de burns. Dey kept me greezed for a long time. I +was sick nearly six months. Dey was good to me. +</p> +<p> +An one day, young miss, she married. Ol' miss give me to her 'long of 23 +others. Twenty four was all she could spare an' keep some for herself an +save enough for de other children. We went to California. Young Miss was +good, but her husband was mean. He give me de only white folks whippin I +ever had. Ol' miss never had to whip her slaves. I was tryin' to cook on +an earth stove—dat's why it happen. Did you ever hear of an earth +stove? Well, dey make sort of drawers out of dirt. You burn wood in 'em. +After you git used to it you kin cook on it good. But dat day I was busy +an' I burned de biscuits. An' he whip me. +</p> +<p> +I run off. I knew in general de way home. When I come to de Brazos river +it looked most a mile across. But I jump in an' I swim it. One day I +done found a pearl handled pocket knife. A few days later I meet up wid +a white boy. An' he say its his knife, an' I say, 'White boy, I know dat +ain't your knife, an' you know it ain't. But if you'll write me out a +free pass, I'll give it to you.' An' so he wrote it. After dat, I could +walk right up to de front gates an ask for somthin' to eat. Cause I had +a paper sayin' I was Clara Jones an' I was goin' home to my ol' mistress +Mis' Cornelius. Please paterollers to leave me alone. An' folks along de +way, dey'd take me in an' feed me. Dey'd give me a place to stay an fix +me up a lunch to take along. Dey'd say, "Clara, you's a good nigger. +You's a goin' home to your ol' miss, so we's goin' to do for you." +</p> +<p> +An' I got within five miles of home before dey catch me. An' my ol' miss +won't let me go back. She keep me an' send another one in my place. An' +de war kept on, an ol' massa had to go. An' word come dat he been +killed. +</p> +<p> +Yes, 'em, some folks run off, an' some of 'em stayed. Finally ol' miss +refugeed a lot of us to California. What is it to refugee. Well, you +see, suppose you was afraid dat somebody go in' to take your property +an' you run 'em away off somewhere—how you come to know. +</p> +<p> +When de war was over, young miss she come in an she say, 'Clara, you's +as free as I am.' 'No, I ain't.' says I. 'Yes, you is,' says she. 'What +you goin' to do?' 'I's goin' to stay an' work for you.' says I. 'No' +says she, 'you ain't cause I can't pay you.' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll go +home to see my old mother.' 'Tell you what,' says she, 'I ain't got nuff +money to send you, only part—so you go down to whar' dey is a'pannin' +gold. You kin git a Job at $2.00 per day.' +</p> +<p> +Many's a day I've stood in water up to my waist pannin' gold. In dem +days dey worked women jest like men. I worked hard, an' young miss took +care of me. When I got ready to come home I bought my stage fare an' I +carried $300 on me back to my ol' mother. +</p> +<p> +De trip took six weeks. Everywhere de stage would stop young miss had +writ a note to somebody and de stage coach men give it to 'em an dey +took care of me—good care. +</p> +<p> +When I got home to my mother I found dat ol' miss had give all of 'em +somthin' along with settin 'em free. My mother had 12 children so she +git de mos'. She git a horse, a milk cow, 8 killin' hogs and 50 bushels +of corn. She moved off to a little house on ol' miss's plantation and +make a crop on halvers. She stay on dar for three—four years. Den she +move off into another county where she could go to meetin without havin' +to cross de river. An' I stayed on wid her an help her farm—I could +plow as good as a man in dem days. +</p> +<p> +Finally I hear dat you could make more money in Hot Springs, so I come +to see. My mother was dead by dat time. De first year I made a crop for +Mr. Clay—my granddaughter cooks and tends to children for some of his +folks today. When I went to town an I washed at de Arlington hotel. It +wasn't de fine place it is today. It was jest boards like dis cabin of +mine. An I washed at another hotel—what was it—down across de creek +from de Arlington. Yes ma'am, dat's it. De Grand Central—it was grand +too—for dem days. An' I cooked for Dr. McMasters. An' I cooked for +Colonel Rector—de Rectors had lots of money in dem days. I could make a +weddin' cake good as anybody—with, a 'gagement ring in it. I could make +it fine—tho I don't know but two letters in de book an' thoses is A and +B. +</p> +<p> +I married Mr. Walker. He was a hod carrier when dey built de old red +brick Arlington. I remember lots of things dat happened here. I remember +seein' de smoke from de fire—dat big one. We was a livin' near Picket +Springs—you don't know whare dat is. Well, does you know where de +soldier's breast work was—now I git you on to remembering. +</p> +<p> +Den, later on we moved out an' got a farm near Hawes. I traded dat place +for dis one. Yes, ma'am I likes livin' in de country. Never did like +livin' in town. +</p> +<p> +I don't right know whether culled folks wanted to be free or not. Lots +of 'em didn't rightly understand, Ol' miss was good to hers. Some of 'em +wasn't. She give 'em things before an she give 'em things after. Of +course, we went back an' we washed for 'em. But one mortal blessin. Ol' +miss had made her girls learn how to cook an' wait on themselves. +</p> +<p> +Now take de Combinders. Dey was on de next plantation. Dey was mean. +Many a time you could hear de bull whip, clear over to our place, PLOP, +PLOP. An' if dey died, dey jest wrapped 'em in cloth an' dig a trench, +an' plow right over 'em. An' when de war was over, dey wouldn't turn dey +slaves loose. An de Federals marched in an' marched 'em off. An' ol' +Mis' Combinder she holler out an she say, 'What my girls goin' to do? +Dey ain't never dressed deyselves in dey life. We can't cook? What we +do?' An' de soldiers didn't pay no attention. Dey just marched 'em off. +</p> +<p> +An' ol' man Combinder he lay down an' he have a chill an' he die. He die +because day take his property away from him. +</p> +<p> +Yes, ma'am, Thank you for the quarter. I's goin' to buy snuff. I gets +along good. My grandson he hauls wood for de paper mill. An' my +granddaughters dey works for folks cooks an takes care of children. I +had a good crop dis year. I'll have meat, I got lots of corn, an' I got +other crops. We're gettin' along nice, mighty nice. Thank you ma'am." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Walker, Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +I was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. The first I ever +knowed or heard of a war, I saw a lot of the funniest wagons coming up +to the house from the road. I called the old mistress. She looked out +the window and pushed me back up in the corner and shot the door. She +was so scared. I thought them things they had on their coats (buttons) +was pretty. I found out they was brass buttons. I peeped out a crack it +was already closed 'cept a big crack, I seed through. Well, the wagons +was high in front and high in the back and sunk in the middle. Had pens +in the wheels instead of axels. Wagon had a box instead of a bed. The +wagons would hold a crib full of corn. They loaded up everything on the +place there was to eat and carried it off. My folks and the other folks +was in the field. Colored folks didn't like 'em taking all they had to +eat and had stored up to live on. They didn't leave a hog nor a chicken, +nor anything else they could find. They drove off all the cows and +calves they could find. Colonel Sam Williams, the old master, soon did +go to war then. The folks had a hard time making a living. Old mistress +had four girls and her baby Ed was one day older than I was. The +children of the hands played around in the woods and every place and +stayed in the field if they was big enough to do any work. Old mistress +had all the children pick up scaley barks and hickory nuts and chestnuts +and walnuts. She put them in barrels. She sold some of them. She had a +heap of sugar maple trees. They put an elder funnel to run the sap in +buckets. We carried that and she boiled it down to brown sugar. She had +up pick up chips to burn when she simmered it down or made soap. She +kept all the children hunting ginsing up in the mountains. She kept it +in sacks. A man come by and buy it. We hunted chenqupins down in the +swamps. There was lots of walnut trees in the woods. +</p> +<p> +No the slaves didn't leave Colonel Williams. He left them. He brought me +and Ed and we went back and moved to the old Williams farm on Arkansas +River close to Little Rock. Then he sent for my folks. They come in +wagons. They worked for him a long time and scattered about. I stayed at +his house till he said "Henry, you are grown; you better look out for +yourself now." Ed was gone. He sent all the girls off to school and Ed +too. They taught me if I wanted to learn but I didn't care much about +it. I went to the colored school and Ed to the white school. He learned +pretty well. I never did like to 'sociate or stay 'bout colored folks +and I didn't like to mind 'em. Old mistress show did brush me out +sometimes and they called my mother to tend to me. When I was real +little they drove the hands to the block to be sold out along the road. +Old mistress say: "If you don't be good and mind we'll send yare off and +sell you wid 'em." That scared me worse than a whooping. Never did see +anybody sold. Heard them talk a heap about it. When one of them wouldn't +work and lay out in the woods, or they wouldn't mind they soon got sold +off. They mated a heap of them and sold them for speculation. No mam I +didn't like slavery. We had plenty to eat but they worked for all they +got. Had good fires and good warm houses and good clothes but I did not +like the way they give out the provisions. They blowed a horn and +measured out the weeks paratta for every family. They cooked at the +cabins for their own families. There was several springs and a deep rock +walled well at old mistress' house. Old mistress always lived in a fine +house. I slept at my mother's house nearly all the time. She had a big +family. White folks raised me up to play with Ed till I thought I was +white. They taught me to do right and I ain't forgot it. I never was +arrested. I married three times, bought three marriage license all in +Prairie County. All three wives died. +</p> +<p> +I owns dis house 'cept a mortgage of $50. One of my boys got in a +difficulty. I don't know where he is to get him to pay it off. The other +boy he's not man enough either to pay it off. +</p> +<p> +I never did know jess when the Civil War did close. I kept hearing 'em +say we are free. I didn't see much difference only when Colonel Williams +come back times wasn't so hard. Then he sold out and come to Arkansas. +Then each family raised his own hogs and chickens and finally got to +have cows. +</p> +<p> +I was as scared of the Ku Klux Klan as of rattlesnakes. In Tennessee +they come up the road and back just after dark. They rode all night and +if you wasn't on your master's own land and didn't have a pass from him +or the overseer they would set the dogs on you and run you home. +Sometimes they would whip them. Take them home to the old master. I +never heard of no uprisings. People loved each other better then than +now. They didn't have so much idle time. There was always some work to +be doing. When they didn't mind they run them with dogs and whipped +them. The overseer and paddyrollers seed about that. The first day of +the year everybody went up to hear the rules and see who was to be the +overseer. Then they knowed what to do for the year. They never did kill +nobody. No mam that was too costly. They had work according to their +strength and age. The Ku Klux was to keep order. +</p> +<p> +I been living in Hazen forty or fifty years. All I ever have done was +farm sometimes one-half-for-the-other and sometimes on share-crop. +</p> +<p> +I have voted but not lately. I votes a Republican ticket. I votes that +way because it was the Republicans that set us free, I always heard it +said. I jess belongs to that party. Seems lack we gets easier times when +the Democrats reign. Colonel Williams was a Democrat. +</p> +<p> +The young folks are not as well off as I was at their age. They are +restless and won't work unless they gets big pay and they spends the +money too easy. The colored people are too idle and orderless. They +fight and hate one another and roam around in too much confusion. +</p> +<p> +I gets from $3 to $8 last month from the Sociable Welfare. My children +helps me mighty little. They got their own children to see after and +don't make much. +</p> +<p> +Colonel Williams and Ed are both dead. They did give me a lot of fine +clothes when I went to see them as long as they lived. I don't know +where the girls hab gone. Scattered around. I oughter never left my good +old home and white folks. They was show always mighty good to me. +</p> +<p> +I never could sing much. I used to give the Rebbel Yell. Colonel Yopp +give me a dime every time I give it. Since he died I ain't yelled it no +more. I learned it from Colonel Williams. I jess took it up hearing him +about the place. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerHenry2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Irene Robertson<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave-Hunting<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Henry Walker<br> +Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Farmer.<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +Henry Walker was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. +Remembered the soldiers and ran to the windows to see them pass. One day +he saw a lot of soldiers coming to the house. Henry ran in ahead and +said out loud, "them Yankeys are coming up here." The mistress slapped +Henry, hid him and slammed the doors. The soldiers did not get in but +they did other damage that day. They took all the mules out of the lot +and drove them away. They filled their "dugout wagons" with corn. A +dugout wagon would hold nearly a crib full of corn. They were high in +front and back and came down to a point, nearly touched the ground +between the wheels. The wheels had pens instead of axles in them. +</p> +<p> +The children ran like pigs every morning. The pigs ran to eat acorns and +the children—white and black—to pick up chestnuts, scaly barks and +hickory nuts. There were <u>lots</u> of black walnuts. "We had barrels of +nuts to eat all winter and the mistress sold some every year at +Nashville, Tennessee. The woods were full of nut trees and we had a few +maple and sweet gum trees. We simmered down maple sap for brown sugar +and chewed the sweet gum. We picked up chips to simmer the sweet maple +sap down. We used elder tree wood to make faucets for syrup barrels. +There were chenquipins down in the swamps that the children gathered." +</p> +<p> +Henry Walker said that they were sent upon the hills to find ginsing and +often found long beds of it. They put it in sacks and a man came and +bought it from the mistress. The mistress' name was Mrs. Williams. She +kept the money for the ginsing and nuts too when she sold them. +</p> +<p> +Henry said he ate at Mrs. Williams', but the other children ate at the +cabin. On Saturday evening the horn would sound and every slave would +come to get his allowance of provisions. They used a big bell hung up in +a tree to call them to meals and to begin work. They could also hear +other farm bells and horns. Colored folks could have dances if they +would get permission. Some masters were overseers themselves and some +hired overseers. Patty Rell was a white man and the bush-wackers give us +trouble sometimes. +</p> +<p> +On January first every year everybody ate peas and "hog jole" and +received the new rules. The masters would say, "don't be running up here +telling me on the overseer." They had a bush harbor church and the white +preacher came to preach to black and white sometimes. They taught +obedience and the Golden Rules. No schools—Henry said since freedom the +white men had cheated him out of all he had ever made, with pen-and-ink. +He rather be whipped with a stick than a writing pen. He said Mr. and +Mrs. Williams were good people. Henry learned to knit his socks and +gloves at night watching the grown people. They made a certain number of +broches every night. He liked that. +</p> +<p> +Henry said Mr. Williams let him carry his gun hunting with him and +taught him how to shoot squirrels. They were plentiful. He had a lot of +dogs. The master went to the deer stand and Henry managed the twelve +hounds. He didn't like to fox hunt. About a hundred men and thirty dogs, +horns, etc. out for the chase. They came from Nashville and in the +country. A fox make three rounds from where he is jumped and then widens +out. They brought "fine whiskey" out on the chases. +</p> +<p> +When they had corn shuckings one Negro would sit on the fence and lead +the singing, the others shuck on each side. The master would pour out a +tin cup full of whiskey from a big jug for each corn shucker, and Mrs. +Williams would give each a square of gingerbread. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Williams set aside a certain number of acres of land every year to +be cleared, fenced and broke for cultivation by spring. Six or eight men +worked together. They used tong-hand sticks to carry the logs to the +piles where they were burning them. A saw was a side show, they used +mall, axe and wedge. After the log rolling there would be a big supper +and a good one. The visitors got what they wanted from the table first. +"That was manners." +</p> +<p> +"We took turns going to the Methodist church at Nashville with Mr. and +Mrs. Williams. They went in the fine carriage and the maid held the baby +but anybody else rode along behind on horseback. The carriage horses +were curried every day, kept up and ate corn and fodder. Mr. and Mrs. +Williams came to Nashville to big weddings and dances often." +</p> +<p> +After Henry Walker came to Hazen, Colonel Yopp had him feed his dogs and +attend him on big fox hunting trips. Since Colonel Yopp died January +1928 Henry seldom, or perhaps has never sung the song he sang to Colonel +for dimes if he needed a little change. He learned the song and whoop +back in in slavery days. He said William Dorch (colored boy) took it up +from hearing him sing for Colonel Yopp and would write it for me and +sing it and give it with the old Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee whoop. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerJake1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Jake Walker<br> + 3002 Short W. Ninth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 95</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Well, I was here"I was born in 1842, August the 4th. That makes me +ninety-five in the clear. If I live till next August I'll be ninety-six. +</p> +<p> +"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas, I was born in Alabama. I been here +in Arkansas bout forty or fifty years. I used to live in Mississippi +when I first left the old country. +</p> +<p> +"Oh yes'm, I was bout big enough to go durin' the War, but I wouldn't +run off. Couldn't a had no better master. That's the reason I'm livin' +like I do. Always took good care of myself. Never had no exposure. +</p> +<p> +"I <u>did</u> work fore the War, I'll say! Done anything they said. +</p> +<p> +"John Carmichael was my old master and Miss Nancy was old missis. +</p> +<p> +"Oh yes ma'am, I seed the Yankees. They stopped there. I wasn't askeered +of nobody. I have went to the well and drawed water for em. +</p> +<p> +"I member when the War was gwine on. I didn't know why they was +fightin'. If I did I done forgot"I'll be honest with you. I didn't know +nothin' only they was fightin'. Most of my work was around the house. I +never paid no tention to that war. I was livin' too fine them days. I +was livin' a hundred days to the week. Yes ma'am, I did get along fine. +</p> +<p> +"Oh yes ma'am, I had good white folks. I never was sold. No ma'am, I +born right on the old home place. +</p> +<p> +"Patrollers? Had to get a pass from your master to go over there. Oh +yes, I know all about them. I have seed the Ku Klux too. Yes ma'am, I +know all about them things. +</p> +<p> +"I never been to school but half a day. I went to work when I was eight +years old and been workin' ever since. +</p> +<p> +"My father died in slave times and my mother died the fourth year after +surrender. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom, I worked there bout the course of three or four years. +Then I emigrated and come on to Mississippi. The most I done them times +was farmin'. Reckon I stayed in Mississippi five or six years. +</p> +<p> +"The most work I done here in Arkansas is carpenter work. I'm the first +colored man ever contracted in Pine Bluff. +</p> +<p> +"If I wasn't able to work, I don't think I'd stay here long. +</p> +<p> +"Used to drive the mule in the gin in slave times. +</p> +<p> +"We didn't have a bit of expense on us. Our doctor bills was paid and +had clothes give to us and had plenty of something to eat. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I used to vote but it's been for years since I voted. Voted +Republican. I don't know why the colored people is Republican. You +askin' me something now I don't know nothin' about, but I believe in +votin' for the man goin' to do good"do the country good. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, don't talk about the younger generation"I jist can't accomplish +em, I sure can't. They ain't got the 'regenious' and get-up about em +they had in my time. They is more wiser, that's about all. The young +race these days"I don't know what's gwine come of em. If twasn't for we +old fogies, don't know what they'd do. +</p> +<p> +"We ain't never had that World War yet told about in the Bible. Called +this last war the World War but twasn't. +</p> +<p> +"I've always tried to keep my place and I ain't never been in any kind +of trouble." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerJake2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Jake Walker, Wheatley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born seven or eight miles from Hernando, Mississippi. My pa was a +slave over twenty years. He belong to Master Will Walker, and his white +mistress was Ann. They brought him from 'round Athens, Georgia. He was +heired through his master. His own mother died at his birth and he was +the son of a peddler through the country. He was a furriner but pa never +could tell. His young master never told him. His ma was the nurse about +the place. The peddler was a white man of some kind. He kept coming +about selling goods. The dogs made a bad racket. They never bought +nothing much. Old master suspicioned him trying to get away with +something about the place. He come right out and accused him to being up +to something. He denied it. He told the peddler not to come back. He +never. After it was over she told her mistress. He wanted her to go on +off with him. That made them mad. But he never was seen about there. +</p> +<p> +"When Will Walker got married he wanted my pa and he was give to him, a +horse and buggy, two mules, a lamb, and five young cows. He had some +money and he come to Mississippi. I reckon he did buy some land. He got +to be a slave owner before freedom. Pa said he drove the horse to the +buggy and his master rode a mule, led a mule and brought his cows, and +they kept the lamb in the buggy with them nearly all the way. +</p> +<p> +"I think they was good to him. His young mistress cried so much they all +went back once before freedom. They went on Christmas time. Only time he +ever was drunk. He got down and nearly froze to death. The white folks +heard he was somewhere down. They went and got him one Sunday morning in +a two-horse wagon. He was nearly dead. That was his first and last +spree. +</p> +<p> +"Pa said he nursed three of his young mistress' babies, Alfred, Tom, and +Kenneth. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom pa went to Texas with Alfred Walker. He owned a ranch out +on the desert and raised Texas ponies and big horn cows. They sent a +carload of young cattle to St. Louis and pa stopped back in Mississippi +and married ma. She was a Walker too, Libbie Walker. There was fourteen +of us children. They nearly all went to Louisiana to work in the timber. +I come to Clarendon. I been married three times. My last wife left me +and took my onliest child. Only child I ever had. They was at Hot +Springs last account I had of them. She was cooking for a woman over +there. My girl is up 'bout grown now. She come to Clarendon to see me +three years ago. I sent for her but she wouldn't stay. She writes to me, +but I have to get somebody to write for me and somebody to read her +letters. I can read print real good. I never went to school a day in my +whole life. We had to work early and late when I come up. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed, sawmilled, worked in the timber. I do public work, haul wood, +cut wood, and work in the field by day labor. +</p> +<p> +"I votes a Republican ticket. I haven't voted since Mr. Taft run. I +don't have no way to keep up with elections now. Folks used to talk +more, now they keeps quiet. +</p> +<p> +"I never heard pa say how he come to know about freedom. Ma said she was +refugeed to Texas and when they brung them back, Master Will Walker met +them at the creek on his place and he said, 'You all are free now. You +can go on my place or hunt other places.' They went on his place and +they lived there a long time. I don't remember ever living on that +place. Pa wasn't there then. I don't know where be could been. Ma and pa +was both Walkers but no blood kin. Ma didn't talk much about old times. +She was sold once, she said. Bass Kelly bought her. I don't know if Will +Walker traded for her. She never did say. Bass Kelly was mean to her. He +beat her and one time she hid and kept hid till she nearly starved, she +said. She hid in the corn crib. It was a log house. She didn't enjoy +slavery. Pa had a very good time, better than us boys had it when we +come up. He worked and kept us with him. He and ma died the same week. +They had pneumonia in Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"I got one sister. She lives close to Shreveport. She keeps up with us +all. I go down there every now and then. She's not stove up like I am. +She wants me to stay with her all the time. I gets work down there +easier but I have the rheumatism bad down there. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what will become of young folks. I wish I had their +chance. They can't wait for nothing. They in too big a hurry for the +crop to grow. Busy living by the day. When the year gone they ain't no +better off. Times is good in places. Hard in places. Times better in +Louisiana than up here. Work easier to get. Folks got more living. +</p> +<p> +"I'm chopping cotton on Mr. Hill's place. I gets ninety cents a day. I +can't get over the ground fast." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WallaceWillie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Willie Wallace<br> + 40th and Georgia Streets, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Green County, Alabama. Elihu Steele was my old master. +Miss Julia was old missis. She was Elihu's wife. Her mother's name was +Penny Hatter. Miss Penny give my mother to her daughter Julia. +</p> +<p> +"I was a twin and they choosed us for the cook and washer and ironer, +but surrender come along 'fore we got big enough to do anything. +</p> +<p> +"My father was crippled and couldn't work in the field, and I remember +he used to carry the children out to the field to be suckled. +</p> +<p> +"They had a right smart of slaves. My mother had twelve children and I'm +the baby. +</p> +<p> +"I remember they'd make up a big pot of corn bread and pot-liquor and +they'd say, 'Eat, chillun, eat.' +</p> +<p> +"I remember one time the white folks had some stock tied out, and I know +my sister's little boy didn't know no better and he showed the Yankees +where they was. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when they said the people was free, but our folks stayed +right on there—I don't know how many years—'cause my mother thought a +heap of her old missis, Penny. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school after freedom and learned how to read and write and +figger. I worked in the field till I got disabled. I never did wash and +iron and cook for the white folks. +</p> +<p> +"I was fifteen—somewhere in there—when I married and I'm the mother of +twelve children. +</p> +<p> +"I have lived in Thomas, West Virginia; Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; +Cumberland, Maryland; Milliken, Louisiana; and Birmingham, Alabama. I +just lived in all them places following my children around. +</p> +<p> +"I fell through a trestle in Birmingham and injured myself comin' from +church. +</p> +<p> +"I think the people is gettin' terrible now. You think they're gettin' +better? I think they're gettin' wuss. +</p> +<p> +"I got a book here called 'Uncle Tom' and I hates to read it sometimes +'cause the people suffered so. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think old master had any overseers. Miss Julia wouldn't 'low +any of her people to be beat." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WarriorEvans"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Evans Warrior<br> + 609 E. 23rd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born here in Arkansas in Dallas County. I don't know zackly what +year but I was bout five when they drove us to Texas. Stayed there three +years till the war ceasted. +</p> +<p> +"Old master's name was Nat Smith. He was good to me. I was big enough to +plow same year the war ceasted. +</p> +<p> +"Yankees come through Texas after peace was 'clared. They'd come by and +ask my mother for bread. She was the cook. +</p> +<p> +"We left Arkansas 'fore the war got busy. Everything was pretty ragged +after we got back. White folks was here but colored folks was scattered. +My folks come back and went to their native home in Dallas County. +</p> +<p> +"Never did nothin' but farm work. Worked on the shares till I got able +to rent. Paid five or six dollars a acre. Made some money. +</p> +<p> +"I heered of the Ku Klux. Some of em come through the Clemmons place and +put notice on the doors. Say VACATE. All the women folks got in one +house. Then the boss man come down and say there wasn't nothin' to it. +Boss man didn't want em there. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school a little. Kep' me in the field all the tims. Didn't +get fur enuf to read and write. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I voted. Voted the Republican ticket. That's what they give me +to vote. I couldn't read so I'd tell em who I wanted to vote for and +they'd put it down. Some of my friends was justice of the peace and +constables. +</p> +<p> +"I been in Pine Bluff bout four years—till I got disabled to work. +</p> +<p> +"I been married five times. All dead but two. Don't know how many +chillun we had—have to go back and study over it. +</p> +<p> +"Some of the younger generation is out of reason. Ain't strict on +chillun now like the old folks was." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonAnna"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Anna Washington, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> + (Back of Mrs. Maynard's home in the alley)<br> +Age: 77 </h3> +<br> +<p> +"I've forgot who my mother's owner was. She was born in Virginia. She +was put on a block and sold. She was fifteen years old and she never +seen her mother again after she left her. Her master was George +Birdsong. He bought my papa too. They was onliest two he owned. He +wanted them both light so the children would be light for house girls +and waiting boys. Light colored folks sold for more money on the block. +</p> +<p> +"The boss man over grandpa and grandma in Virginia was John Glover. But +he was not their owner. My grandpa was about white. He said his owners +was good to him but now grandma had a pided back where she had been +whooped. Grandpa come down from the Washington slaves so my papa said. +That is the reason I holds to his name and my boy holds to it. Papa said +he had to plough and clean up new ground for Master Birdsong. He was a +young man starting out and papa and mama was young too. +</p> +<p> +(She left and came back with some old scraps of yellow and torn papers +dimly written all over: Anna Washington, born 1860 at Hines County at +Big Rock. Mother born at Capier County. Father born at White County, +Virginia—ed.) +</p> +<p> +"This is what was told to me by my papa: His grandmother was born of +George Washington's housemaid. That was one hundred forty years ago. His +papa was educated under a fine mechanic and he help build the old +State-house at Washington. Major Rousy Paten was the Washington nigger +'ministrator. +</p> +<p> +"I had a sister named Martha Curtis after his young wife. I had a +brother named Housy Patton. They are both dead now. Pa lived to be +ninety-eight years old. My mama was as white as you is but she was a +nigger woman. Pa was lighter than I is now. I'm getting darker 'cause +I'm getting old. My pa was named Benjamin Washington. +</p> +<p> +"I heard my pa talk about Nat Turner. (She knew who he was o.k.—ed.) He +got up a rebellion of black folk back in Virginia. I heard my pa sit and +tell about him. Moses Kinnel was a rich white man wouldn't sell Nellie +'cause of what his wife said. She was a housemaid. He wrote own free +pass book and took her to Maryland. Father's father wanted to buy Nellie +but her owner wouldn't sell her. He took her. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had fourteen children. We and Archie was the youngest. +</p> +<p> +"Moses Kinnel was a rich white man and had lots of servants. He promised +never to sell Nellie and keep her to raise his white children. She was +his maid. He promised that her dying bed. But father's father stole her +and took her to Maryland. +</p> +<p> +"Pa run away and was sold twice or more. When he was small chile his +mother done fine washing. She seat him to go fetch her some fine laundry +soap what they bought in the towns. Two white men in a two-wheel open +buggy say, 'Hey, don't you want to ride?' 'I ain't got time.' 'Get in +buggy, we'll take you a little piece.' One jumped out and tied his hands +together. They sold him. They let him go to nigger traders. They had him +at a doctor's examining his fine head see what he could stand. The +doctor say, 'He is a fine man. Could trust him with silver and gold—his +weight in it.' They brung him to Mississippi and sold him for a big +price. He had these papers the doctor wrote on him to show. +</p> +<p> +"Then he sent for my mama after they sat him free. His name was Ben +Washington. +</p> +<p> +"He never spoke much of freedom. He said his master in Mississippi told +them and had them sign up contracts to finish that year's crop. He took +back his old Virginia name and I don't recollect that master's name. +Heard it too. Yes ma'am, heap er times. My recollection is purty nigh +gone. +</p> +<p> +"I don't get no younger in feelings 'cause I'm getting old." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonEliza"></a> +<h3>FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Interviewer: S.S. Taylor<br> +Subject: Slave memories—Birth, Mother, Father, Separation House<br> +Subject: Slaves—Dwellings, Food, Clothes<br> +Subject: Corn Shucking, Dances, Quiltings, Weddings among Slaves<br> +Subject: Slaves—Fight with Master (junior); Slave uprisings<br> +Subject: Confederate Army Negroes; Ex-slave Occupations<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Eliza Washington<br> +Place of Residence: 1517 West Seventeenth<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Washing and Ironing (When able)<br> +Age: About 77</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]<br> +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p> +The first thing I remember was living with my mother about six miles +from Scott's Crossing in Arkansas, about the year 1866. I know it was +1866 because it was the year after the surrender, and we know the +surrender was in 1865. I know the dates after 1866. You don't know +nothin' when you don't know dates. If you get up in court and say +somethin', the lawyers ask you when it happened and then they ask you +where did it happen, and if you can't tell them, they say "Witness is +excused. You don't know nothin'." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Mother and Father</b></p> +<p> +My mother was born in North Carolina in Mecklinberg in Henderson County. +I don't know when she came to Arkansas, and I don't know when she went +to Tennessee. +</p> +<p> +My father was born in Tennessee. I don't know the county like I did in +North Carolina. I don't know the town either, but I think it was in the +rurals somewhere. The white folks separated my mother and father when I +was a little baby in their arms. The people to whom my father belonged +stayed in Tennessee, but my mother's people came to Arkansas. It must +have been along in the time of the war that they come to Arkansas. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Dwelling</b></p> +<p> +My mother lived in a log house chinked with wood chinks. The chinks +looked like gluts. You know what a glut is? No? Well a glut looks like +the pattern of a shoe. They lay the logs together, and then chink up the +cracks with wood blocks made up like the pattern of a shoe. These were +chinks, wooden things about a foot long, shaped like a wedge. They were +used for chinking. After the logs were laid together, chinks would be +needed to stop up the holes between the logs. After the chinking was +finished, clay was stuffed in to stop up the cracks and make the house +warm. I've seen a many a one built. +</p> +<p> +Wide planks were used for the floors. The doors were hung on wooden +hinges. The doors were never locked. They didn't have any looks on them. +You could bar them on the inside if you wanted to. They didn't have no +fear of burglars in them days. People wasn't bad then as they is now. +They had just one window and one door in the house. The chimney was +built up like a ladder and clay and straw was stuffed in the framework. +</p> +<p> +I have seen such houses built right down here in Scott's. My mother was +a field hand. She lived in such a house in Tennessee. There wasn't no +brick about the house, not even in the chimney. In later years, they +have covered up all those logs with weather boards and made the houses +look like what they call "modern", but theyr'e the same old log houses. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Food</b></p> +<p> +My mother said her white folks fed her well. She had whatever they had. +When she came to Arkansas, they issued rations, but she never was issued +rations before. When they issued rations, they gave them so much food +each week—so much corn meal, so much potatoes, so much cabbage, so much +molasses, so much meat—mostly rubbish-like food. We went out in the +garden and dug the potatoes and got the cabbage. +</p> +<p> +But in Tennessee, my mother got what ever she wanted whenever she wanted +it. If she wanted salt, she went and got it. If she wanted meat, she +went to the smokehouse and got it. Whatever she wanted, she went and got +it, and they didn't have no times for issuing out. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Social Affairs—Corn Shuckings, Quiltings and Dances</b></p> +<p> +The biggest time I remember on the plantations was corn shucking time. +Plenty of corn was brought in from the cribs and strowed along where +everybody could get to it freely. Then they would all get corn and shuck +it until near time to quit. The corn shucking was always at night, and +only as much corn as they thought would be shucked was brought from the +cribs. Just before they got through, they would begin to sing. Some of +the songs were pitiful and sad. I can't remember any of them, but I can +remember that they were sad. One of them began like this: +</p> +<pre> +"The speculator bought my wife and child + And carried her clear away." +</pre> +<p> +When they got through shucking, they would hunt up the boss. He would +run away and hide just before. If they found him, two big men would take +him up on their shoulders and carry him all around the grounds while +they sang. My mother told me that they used to do it that way in slave +time. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Dances</b></p> +<p> +They didn't dance then like they do now all hugged up and indecent. In +them days, they danced what you call square dances. They don't do those +dances now, they're too decent. There were eight on a set. I used to +dance those myself. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Quiltings</b></p> +<p> +I heard mother say she went to a lot of quiltings. I suppose they had +them much the same as they do now. Everybody took a part of the quilt to +finish. They talked and sang and had a good time. And they had somethin' +to eat at the close just as they did in the corn shucking. I never went +to a quilting. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Worship</b></p> +<p> +Some of the Niggers went to church then just as they do now, and some of +them weren't allowed to go. +</p> +<p> +Reverend Winfield used to preach to the colored people that if they +would be good niggers and not steal their master's eggs and chickens and +things, that they might go to the kitchen of heaven when they died. +</p> +<p> +An old lady once said to me, "I would give anything if I could have +Maria in heaven with me to do little things for me." My mother told me +that the niggers had to turn the pots down to keep their voices from +sounding when they were praying at night. And they couldn't sing at all. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Weddings</b></p> +<p> +I can remember that they used to have weddings when I was a child around +the years 1867 and 1868. My mother told me of marriages and weddings. +She never saw no paint on anybody's face. They used to have powder, but +they never used any paint. Girls were better then than they are now. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Fight with Master</b></p> +<p> +My mother's first master was named Rasly, and her second was named +Neely. She and her young master, John McNeely, who was raised with her +and who was about the same age as she was, got to fighting one day and +she whipped him clear as a whistle. After she whipped him that fight +went all over the country. She was between sixteen and seventeen years +old an he was about the same. She had never been whipped by the white +folks. +</p> +<p> +She was in the kitchen. I don't know what the trouble started over. But +they had an argument. There were some other white boys in the kitchen +with her young master, and they kept pushing the two of them up to +fight. He wanted to show off; so he told her what he would do to her if +she didn't hush her mouth. She told him to just try it, and the fight +was on. So they fought for about an hour, and the other white boys egged +them on. +</p> +<p> +She said that her old master never did whip her, and she sure wasn't +going to let the young one do it. I never heard that they punished her +for whipping her young master. I never heard her say that anybody tried +to whip her at any other time. My mother was a strong woman. She could +lift one end of a log with any man. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Slave Uprisings</b></p> +<p> +My mother used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, (That +was about the time that the stars fell, and the stars fell in 1833 +[HW:*]. So she must have been born in 1819. In 1833, she was sold for a +fourteen year old girl. That was the only time that she ever was sold. +That left her about eighty-three years old when she died in 1903.) She +used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, and was living +in North Carolina in Mecklinburg Co, in Henderson County, that the white +folks called all the slaves up to the big house and kept them there a +few days. There wasn't no trouble on my mother's place, but they had +heard that there was an uprising among the slaves, and they called all +the Niggers up to the house. They didn't do nothin' to them. They just +called them up to the house, and kept them there. It all passed over +soon. I don't know nothin' else about it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Confederate Army Negroes</b></p> +<p> +I've "heered" old Brother Zachary who used to belong to Bethel Church +tell about the surrender. Brother Zachary is dead now. He was a soldier +In the Confederate army. He fought all through the war and he used to +tell lots of stories about it. +</p> +<p> +You know, Lee was a tall man, fine looking and dignified. Grant was a +little man and short. Those two generals walked up to each other with a +white flag in their hands. And they talked and agreed just when they +would fight. And then they both went back to their armies, and they +fought the awfulest battle you ever "heered" of. The men lay dead in +rows and rows and rows. The dead men covered whole fields. And General +Lee said that there wasn't any use doing any more fighting. General +Grant let all the rebels keep their guns. He didn't take nothin' away +from them. +</p> +<p> +I saw General Grant when he came to Little Rock. There was an old white +man who had never been to Little Rock in his life. He said "I just had +to come up here to see this great general that they are talking about." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Occupations</b></p> +<p> +We always worked in the field in slave time. I don't know nothin about +share cropping because I always did days work. I used to get four and +five dollars a week for washing. But now they wants the young folks and +they don't pay them five dollars for everything. I can't get a pension. +Why you reckon they won't give me one. They don't understand that that +little house I own doesn't even keep itself up. My daughter-in-law is +good to me but she needs everything she makes. I can't get much to do +now, and what little I gets, they don't pay me much for. +</p> +<p> +I don' remember nothin' else. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonJennie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Jennie Washington, DeValls Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80 </h3> +<br> +<p> +"My mother was a slave and my father too I recken. They belonged to Jack +Walton when I remembered. I was born at St. Charles. My mother died in +time of the war at St. Louis. This is whut I remembers. My mother was +sold twice. The Prices owned her and the Wakefields owned her before she +was owned by old Jack Walton. I was the youngest child. I had one +brother went to war and he drawed a pension long as he lived. We +children all got scattered out. Mr. Walton bout the age of my father and +he said some day all these niggers be set free and warnt long fore they +sho was. I had one older sister I recollect mighty well. My mother named +Fannie, my father named Abe Walton. He had a young master James Walton. +</p> +<p> +"When I was nuthin but a chile I remembers James dressed up like Ku Klux +Klan and scared me. The old master sho did whoop him bout that. They +take care of the little black children and feed em good an don't let em +do too hard er work to stunt em so they take em off and sell em for a +good price. +</p> +<p> +"I remembers the little old log house my granma and granpa way back over +on the place stayed in till they died. We went back after the war and +lived ten years on the same place. We lived close to the white folks in +a bigger house. +</p> +<p> +"I don't recollect no big change after freedom cept they quit selling +and working folks without giving them money. I was too small to notice +much change then I speck. Times has always been tight wid me. I ain't +never had very much. I did work an a livin is all I ever got out of it. +Never could make enough to get ahead. +</p> +<p> +"The white folks never give the darky nothing when freedom declared. We +used to raise tobacco and sell it to smoke and make snuff. And he had em +make ax handles to sell on the side for money till the crops gathered. +</p> +<p> +"If you believe in the Bible you won't believe in women votin' I never +did vote. I ain't goner never vote. +</p> +<p> +"The present condition is fine. Mrs. Robinson carries a great big truck +load to her farm every day to pick cotton. She sent word up here she +take anybody whut wanter work. I wish I was able to go. I loves to pick +cotton. She pay em seventy-five cents a hundred. She'll pay em too! I +don't know what they do this winter. Set by the fire I recken. But next +spring she'll let hoe that crop. She took em this past year to hoe out +that very cotton they pickin now. Her husband, he's sick. He keeps their +store up town. She takes a few white hands too if they wanter work. I +don't think the present generation no worse en they ever been. They +drawed up closer together than they used to be. They buys everything now +an they don't raise nuthin. It's the Bible fulfillin. Everything so high +they caint save nuthin! +</p> +<p> +"I married twice. First time in the church, other time at home. I had +four children. I had two in Detroit. I don't know where my son is. He +may be there yet. My daughter there got fourteen children her own. I +don't know where the others are. Nom [TR: long "o" diacritical] they +don't help me a bit, do well helpin theirselves. I gets the Welfare +sistance and I works my garden back here." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonParrish"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Parrish Washington<br> + 812 Spruce Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 86</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in 1852—born in Arkansas. Sam Warren was my old master. +</p> +<p> +"I remember some of the Rebel generals—General Price and General +Marmaduke. +</p> +<p> +"We had started to Texas but the Yankees got in ahead of us in the +Saline bottoms and we couldn't go no further. +</p> +<p> +"My boss had so much faith in his own folks he wouldn't leave here 'til +it was too late. He left home on Saturday night and got into the bottoms +on Sunday and made camp. Then the Yankees got in ahead of him and he +couldn't go no further, so we come back to Jefferson County. +</p> +<p> +"The Yankees had done took Little Rock and come down to Pine Bluff. +</p> +<p> +"My father died in 1860 and my mother in 1865. +</p> +<p> +"I can remember when they whipped the slaves. Never whipped me +though—they was just trainin' me up. +</p> +<p> +"Had an old lady on the place cooked for the children and we just got +what we could. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when peace was declared, the people shouted and rejoiced—a +heavy load had fell off. +</p> +<p> +"All the old hands stayed on the place. I stayed there with my uncle and +aunt. We was treated better then. I was about 25 years old when I left +there. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed 'til '87. Then I joined the Conference and preached nearly +forty years when I was superannuated. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when the Rebels was camped up there on my boss's place. I +used to love to see the soldiers. Used to see the horses hitched to the +artillery. +</p> +<p> +"Two or three of Sam Warren's hands run off and joined the Yankees. They +didn't know what it was goin' to be and two of 'em come back—stayed +there too. +</p> +<p> +"I used to vote the Republican ticket. I was justice of the peace four +years—two terms. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school here in Pine Bluff about two or three terms and I was +school director in district number two about six or seven years. +</p> +<p> +"I have great hope for the young people of the future. 'Course some of +'em are not worth killin' but the better class—I think there is a +bright future for 'em. +</p> +<p> +"But for the world in general, if they don't change they goin' to the +devil. But God always goin' to have some good people in reserve 'til the +Judgment." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WatsonCaroline"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Caroline Watson<br> + 517 E. 21st Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in '55 in March on the 13th on Sunday morning in time for +breakfast. I was born in Mississippi. I never will forget my white +folks. Oh, I was raised good. I had good white folks. Wish I could see +some of em now. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I specs I do remember when the war started. I member when twas +goin' on. Oh Lord, I member all bout it. Old mistress' name was Miss +Ellen Shird. +</p> +<p> +"Oh the Yankees used to come around. I can see us chillun sittin' on the +gallery watchin' em. I disremember what color uniform they had on, but I +seen a heap of em. +</p> +<p> +"My old master, I can see him now—old Joe Shird. Just as good as they +could be. +</p> +<p> +"I should say I do remember when they surrendered. I know everybody was +joyous. But they done better fore surrender than they did +afterwards—that is them that had to go off to themselves. +</p> +<p> +"I was always so fast tryin' to work I wasn't studyin' bout no books, +but I went to school after surrender. My father and mother was smart old +folks and made us work. +</p> +<p> +"I just been married once. I did pretty well. I like to been married +since he's dead but I seen so many didn't do so well. I has four sons +and one daughter. My son made me quit workin'. They gets me anything I +want. I got a religion that will do to die with. I done give up +everything. +</p> +<p> +"Younger generation? What we goin' do with em? They ought to be sent off +some place and put to work. They just gone to the dogs. The Lord have +mercy. My heart just aches and moans and groans for em." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WatsonMary"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Samuel S. Taylor<br> +ADDRESS—Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +DATE—December, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slave<br> +</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>Mary Watson</b></big>, +1500 Cross Street, Little Rock. +</p> +<p> +2. Date and time of interview— +</p> +<p> +3. Place of interview—1500 Cross Street, Little Rock. +</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> +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.— +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> +<p> +1. Ancestry—father, Abram McCoy; mother, Louise McCoy. +</p> +<p> +2. Place and date of birth—Mississippi. No date. +</p> +<p> +3. Family— +</p> +<p> +4. Places lived in, with dates—Lived in Mississippi until 1891 then +moved to Arkansas. +</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— +</p> +<p> +10. Other points gained in interview—This person tells very little of +life, but tells of her parents. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> +<p> +"My mother and father were McCoys. His name was Abram and her name was +Louise. My mother died right here when Brewer was Pastor of Wesley. You +ought to remember her. My mother died in 1928. My father died in 1897 +when Joe Sherrill was pastor. Joe Sherrill went to Africa, you know. He +was a missionary. +</p> +<p> +"My mother was owned by Bill Mitchell. He came from Alabama. I can't +call the name of the town, just now. Yes, I can; it was Tuscaloosa. My +father came from South Carolina. McCoy was his owner. But how come him +to leave South Carolina he was sold after his master died and the +property was divided. He was sold away from his family. He had a large +family—about nine children. My mother was sold away from her mother +too. She was little and couldn't help herself. My grandma didn't want to +come. And she managed not to; I don't know how she managed it. +</p> +<p> +"Before freedom my father was a farmer. My mother was a farmer too. My +mother wasn't so badly treated. She was a slave but she worked right +along with the white children. She had two brothers. The other sister +stayed with her mother. She was sold—my mother's mother. But I don't +know to whom. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a preacher. He could word any hymn. How could he do it, I +don't know. On his Sunday, when the circuit rider wasn't there, he would +have me read the Bible to him and then he could get up and tell it to +the people. I don't know how he managed it. He didn't know how to read. +But he had a wonderful memory. He always had his exhorting license +renewed and he exhorted the people both Methodists and Baptists. After +freedom, when I went to school I knew and always helped him. +</p> +<p> +"My father voted on the election days all the time. Be was a Republican, +and he rallied to them all the time. Before the war, my father farmed. +He commenced in the early fall hauling the cotton from Abbeville, South +Carolina to Augusta, Georgia. That was his business—teamster, hauling +cotton. He never did talk like his owners were so mean to him. Of +course, they weren't mean. When her master died and the property had to +be sold, his master bought her and her babies. +</p> +<p> +"My father met my mother before the war started. Colored people were +scarce in the locality where she lived. These white people saw my father +and liked him. And they encouraged her to marry him. She was only +seventeen. My father was much older. He remembered the dark day in May +and when the stars fell. +</p> +<p> +"He didn't show his age much though till he came to Little Rock. He had +been used to farming and city life didn't agree with him. He left about +seven years after coming here. +</p> +<p> +"My father and mother met and married in Mississippi. He came from South +Carolina and she came from Alabama. They had nine children. All of them +were born after the war. I am the oldest. Lee McCoy is my youngest +brother. You know him, I'm sure. He is the president of Rust College. I +was born right after the war. Don't put me down as no ex-slave. I was +born right after the war. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the war, my father farmed in Mississippi. He took a notion +to come to Arkansas in 1891. He brought his whole family with him. And I +have been out here ever since. +</p> +<p> +"I never saw any slave houses. I wasn't a slave. I have been to the +place where my mother was raised. I was teaching school near there and +just wanted to see. After her master died, Sam McCallister, his cousin, +took the slave children and was their guardian. Years later it come up +in court and they took all his land. Bill Mitchell was her first master. +He died during slave time. McCallister was made administrator of the +estate. He was made guardian of all the children too. He was made +guardian of the white children and of the colored children. He raised +them all. There was Ma and her auntie and three or four children of her +auntie's. Later on, way after the war, there was a lawsuit. I was grown +then. The courts made him pay the white children their share as far as +he was able. Of course, the colored children got nothing because they +were slaves when he took them. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know nothing about the Ku Klux Klan bothering my family. I +don't remember anything except that I hear them talking about the Ku +Klux and the Pateroles. I wasn't here. +</p> +<p> +"Don't put me down as an ex-slave. I am not an ex-slave. I was born +after the war. I don't know nothing about slavery except what I heard +others say. I expect I have talked too much anyway." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Extra Comment</b></p> +<p> +The constant reiteration of the phrase, "I'm not an ex-slave" roused my +curiosity and drove me to a superficial investigation. Persons who are +acquainted with her and her family estimate that Mary Watson is nearer +eighty than seventy. She started her story pleasantly enough. But when +she got the obsession that she would be put down as an ex-slave, she +refused to tell more. +</p> +<p> +There is one thing not to be overlooked. Mary Watson has a mind that is +still keen. She tells what she wants to tell, and she doesn't state a +thing that she does not want to state. The hidden facts are to be +discerned only by subtle inference. This trait interested me, for her +younger brother, mentioned in the story, is a distinguished character, +President of Rust College, Holly Springs, Mississippi, and known to be +experienced and efficient in his work. Whatever she may have reserved or +stated, in reading her story, we are reading at least a sidelight on a +family of which some of the members have done some fine work within the +race. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WayneBart"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Person interviewed: Bart Wayne, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born at Holly Springs in 1866. It was in the springtime. Ma said +I was born two years after the surrender. Ma was named Mary and pa +Dan—Dan Wayne. They never was sold. In 1912 Dr. Leard was living in a +big fine house at Sardia, Mississippi. He was our last owner. Mallard +Jones owned them too. Pa didn't have no name. He was called for his +owners. I don't know if he named hisself Dan Wayne or not. The way I +think it was, Mr. Jones give Dr. Leard's wife them. He give her a big +plantation. I knowed Dr. Leard my own self all my life. I'd go to see +him. +</p> +<p> +"The present times is hard. I get ten dollars a month. I don't know what +to say about folks now—none of them." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WeathersAnnieMae"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella Anderson<br> +Person interviewed: Annie Mae Weathers<br> + East Bone Street<br> + El Dorado, Ark.<br> +Age: ?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born bout the second year after surrender right down here at +Caledonia. Now the white folks that ma and pa and me belonged to was +named Fords. We farmed all the time. The reason we farmed all the time +was because that was all for us to do. You see there wasn't nothin' else +for us to do. There wasn't no schools in my young days to do no good, +and this time of year we was plowin' to beat the band and us always +planted corn in February and in April our corn was. +</p> +<p> +"We fixed our ground early and planted early and we had good crops of +everything. We went to bed early and rose early. We had a little song +that went like this: +</p> +<pre> +Early to bed and early to rise +Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. + + and + +The early bird catches the worm. +</pre> +<p> +Cooked breakfast every morning by a pine torch. +</p> +<p> +"I member hearin' my pa say that when somebody come and hollowed: 'Yer +niggers is free at last' say he just dropped his hoe and said in a queer +voice: 'Thank God for that.' It made old miss and old moss so sick till +they stopped eating a week. Pa said old moss and old miss looked like +their stomach and guts had a law suit and their navel was called in for +a witness, they was so sorry we was free. +</p> +<p> +"After I got a good big girl I was hired out for my clothes and +something to eat. My dresses was made out of cotton stripes and my +chemise was made out of flannelette and my under pants was made out of +homespun. +</p> +<p> +"Our games was 'Honey, honey Bee,' 'Ball I can't Yall,' and a nother one +of our games was 'Old Lady Hypocrit.'" +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WeathersCora"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Cora Weathers<br> + 818 Chester Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I have been right on this spot for sixty-three years. I married when I +was sixteen and he brought me here and put me down and I have been here +ever since. No, I don't mean he deserted me; I mean he put me on this +spot of ground. Of course, I have been away on a visit but I haven't +been nowheres else to live. +</p> +<p> +"When I came here, there was only three houses—George Winstead lived on +Chester and Eighth Street; Dave Davis lived on Ninth and Ringo; and +George Gray lived on Chester and Eighth. Rena Lee lived next to where +old man Paterson stays now, 906 Chester. Rena Thompson lived on Chester +and Tenth. The old people that used to live here is mostly dead or moved +up North. +</p> +<p> +"On Seventh and Ringo there was a little store. It was the only store +this side of Main Street. There was a little old house where Coffin's +Drug Store is now. The branch ran across there. Old man John Peyton had +a nursery in a little log house. You couldn't see it for the trees. He +kept a nursery for flowers. On the next corner, old man Sinclair lived. +That is the southeast corner of Ninth and Broadway. Next to him was the +Hall of the Sons of Ham. +</p> +<p> +"That was the first place I went to school. Lottie Stephens, Robert +Lacy, and Gus Richmond were the teacher. Hollins was the principal. That +was in the Sons of Ham's Hall. +</p> +<p> +"I was born in Dallas County, Arkansas. It must have been 'long 'bout in +eighty-fifty-nine, 'cause I was sixteen years old when I come here and I +been here sixty-three years. +</p> +<p> +"During the War, I was quite small. My mother brought me here after the +War and I went to school for a while. Mother had a large family. So I +never got to go to school but three months at a time and only got one +dollar and twenty-five cents a week wages when I was working. My father +drove a wagon and hoed cotton. Mother kept house. She had—lemme +see—one, two, three, four—eight of us, but the youngest brother was +born here. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's name was Millie Stokes. My mother's name before she was +married was—I don't know what. My father's name was William Stokes. My +father said he was born in Maryland. I met Richard Weathers here and +married him sixty-three years ago. I had six children, three girls and +three boys. Children make you smart and industrious—make you think and +make you get about. +</p> +<p> +"I've heard talk of the pateroles; they used to whip the slaves that was +out without passes, but none of them never bothered us. I don't remember +anything myself, because I was too small. I heard of the Ku Klux too; +they never bothered my people none. They scared the niggers at night. I +never saw none of them. I can't remember how freedom came. First I +knowed, I was free. +</p> +<p> +"People in them days didn't know as much as the young people do now. But +they thought more. Young people nowadays don't think. Some of them will +do pretty well, but some of them ain't goin' to do nothin'. They are +gittin' worse and worser. I don't know what is goin' to become of them. +They been dependin' on the white folks all along, but the white folks +ain't sayin' much now. My people don't seem to want nothin'. The +majority of them just want to dress and run up and down the streets and +play cards and policy and drink and dance. It is nice to have a good +time but there is something else to be thought of. But if one tries to +do somethin', the rest tries to pull him down. The more education they +get, the worse they are—that is, some of them." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WebbIshe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ishe Webb<br> + 1610 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78, or more</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born October 14. That was in slavery time. The record is burnt +up. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. My father's master was a Webb. His +first name was Huel. My father was named after him. I came here in 1874, +and I was a boy eleven or twelve years old then. +</p> +<p> +"My father was sold to another man for seventeen hundred dollars. My +mother was sold for twenty hundred. I have heard them say that so much +that I never will forget it. Webb sold my father and bought him back. My +mother's folks were Calverts. The Calverts and the Webbs owned adjoining +plantations. +</p> +<p> +"My grandmother on my mother's side was a Calvert too. Her first name +was Joanna. I think my father's parents got beat to death in slavery. +Grandfather on my mother's side was tied to a stump and whipped to +death. He was double jointed and no two men could whip him. They wanted +to whip him because he wouldn't work. That was what they would whip any +one for. They would run off before they would work. Stay in the woods +all night. +</p> +<p> +"My Grandma Calvert was buried over here in Galloway on the Rock Island +road on the John Eynes plantation. +</p> +<p> +"My folks' masters were all right. But them nigger drivers were bad, +just like the county farm. A man sitting in the house and putting you +over a lot of men, you gwinter go up high as you want to. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a weaver. There was a lot +of those slavery folks 'round the house, and they tell me they didn't +work them till they were twenty-one, they put them in the field when +they were twenty-two. If you didn't work they would beat you to death. +My father killed his overseer and went on off to the War. +</p> +<p> +"The pateroles used to drive and whip them. They would catch the slaves +off without a pass and whip them and then make the boss pay for them +when they took them back. I never seen the pateroles but I have seen the +Ku Klux and they were the same thing. +</p> +<p> +"The jayhawkers would catch you when the pateroles didn't. They would +carry you to the pateroles and get pay for you, and the pateroles would +turn you over to the owners. You had to have a pass. If you didn't the +pateroles would catch you and wear you out, keep you till the next +morning, and then send you home by the jayhawkers. They didn't call them +that though, they called them bushwhackers. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux came after the War. They was the same thing as the +pateroles—they come out from them. I know where the Ku Klux home is +over here on Eighteenth and Broadway. That is where they broke up. It +ain't never been open since. (Not correct—ed.) +</p> +<p> +"I saw the Yankees come in the yard on the Webb place. That was in the +time of the War. The old man got on his horse and flew. The Yankees went +in the smokehouse, broke it open, got all the meat they wanted. They +didn't pay you nothing in slavery time. But what meat the Yankees didn't +take for themselves, they give to the niggers. +</p> +<p> +"My folks never got anything for their work that I know of. I heard my +mother say that nobody got paid for their work. I don't know whether +they had a chance to make anything on the side or not. +</p> +<p> +"The Yankees, when they come in the yard that morning, told my father he +was free. I remember that myself. They come up riding horses and +carryin' long old guns with bayonets on them, and told him. They rode +all over the country from one place to another telling the niggers they +were free. Master didn't get a chance to tell us because he left when he +saw them comin'. +</p> +<p> +"When my mother and father were living on the plantation, they lived in +an old frame building. A portion of it was log. My father stayed with +the Calverts—his wife's white folks. At first old man Webb sold him to +them; then he bought him back and bought my mother too. They were +together when freedom came. You know they auctioned you off in slavery +time. Every year, they would, they put you up on the auction block and +buy and sell. That was down in Georgia. We was in Georgia when we was +freed—in Atlanta. My father and mother had fourteen children +altogether. My mother died the year after we came out here. That would +be about 1875. I never had but three children because my wife died +early. Two of them are dead. +</p> +<p> +"Right after freedom, my father plaited baskets and mats. He shucked +mops, put handles on rakes and did things like that in addition to his +farming. He was a blacksmith all the time too. He used to plait collars +for mules. He farmed and got his harvests in season. The other things +would be a help to him between times. +</p> +<p> +"My father came here because he thought that there was a better +situation here than in Georgia. Of course, the living was better there +because they had plenty of fruit. Then he worked on a third and fourth. +He got one bale of cotton out of every three he made. The slaves left +many a plantation and they would grow up in weeds. When a man would +clear up the ground like this and plant it down in something, he would +get all he planted on it. That was in addition to the ground that he +would contract to plant. He used to plant rice, peas, potatoes, corn, +and anything else he wanted too. It was all his'n so long as it was on +extra ground he cleared up. +</p> +<p> +"But they said, 'Cotton grows as high as a man in Arkansas.' Then they +paid a man two dollars fifty cents for picking cotton here in Arkansas +while they just paid about forty cents in Georgia. So my father came +here. Times was good when we come here. The old man cleared five bales +of cotton for himself his first year, and he raised his own corn. He +bought a pony and a cow and a breeding hog out of the first year's +money. He died about thirty-five years ago. +</p> +<p> +"When I was coming along I did public work after I became a grown man. +First year I made crops with him and cleared two bales for myself at +twelve and a half cents a pound. The second year I hired out by the +month at forty-five dollars per month and board. I had to buy my clothes +of course. After seven years I went to doing work as a millwright here +in Arkansas. I stayed at that eighteen months. Then I steamboated. +</p> +<p> +"We had a captain on that steamboat that never called any man by his +name. We rolled cotton down the hill to the boat and loaded it on, and +if you weren't a good man, that cotton got wet. I never wetted my +cotton. But jus' the same, I heard what the others heard. One day after +we had finished loading, I thought I'd tell him something. The men +advised me not to. He was a rough man, and he carried a gun in his +pocket and a gun in his shirt. I walked up to him and said, 'Captain, I +don't know what your name is, but I know you's a white man. I'm a +nigger, but I got a name jus' like you have. My name's Webb. If you call +Webb, I'll come jus' as quick as I will for any other name and a lot +more willing. If you don't want to say Webb, you can jus' say "Let's +go," and you'll find me right there.' He looked at me a moment, and then +he said, 'Where you from?' I said, 'I'm from Georgia, but I came on this +boat from Little Hock.' He put his arm around my shoulder and said, +'Come on upstairs.' We had two or three drinks upstairs, and he said, +'You and your pardner are the only two men I have that is worth a damn.' +Then he said, 'But you are right; you have a name, and you have a right +to be called by it.' And from then on, he quit callin' us out of our +names. +</p> +<p> +"But I only stayed on the boat six months. It wasn't because of the +captain. Them niggers was bad. They gambled all the time, and I gambled +with them. But they wouldn't stop at that. They would argue and fight +and cut and shoot. A man would shoot a man down, and then kick him off +into the river. Then when there was roll call, nobody would know what +became of him. I didn't like that. I knew that I was goin' to kill +somebody if I stayed on that boat 'cause I didn't intend for nobody to +kill me. So I stopped. +</p> +<p> +"After that, I went back to the man that I worked for the month for and +stayed with him till I married. I took care of the stock. I was only +married once. My wife died the fourteenth of October. We had three +children, and I have one daughter living. +</p> +<p> +"I have voted often. I never had no trouble. I am a colored man and I +ain't got nothin' but my character, but I take care of that. I let them +know I am in Arkansas. I ain't been out of Arkansas but to Memphis and +Vicksburg, and I took them trips on the boat I was working on. I was a +good man then. +</p> +<p> +"I can't say nothing about these wild-headed young people. They ain't +got no sense. Take God to handle them. +</p> +<p> +"Some parts of politics are all right and some are all wrong. It is like +Grant. He was straddled the fence part of the time. I believe Roosevelt +wants eight more years. Of course, he did a great deal for the people +but the working man isn't getting enough money. Prices are so high and +wages so low that a man keeps up to the grindstone and never gets ahead. +They don't mean for a colored man to prosper by money. Senator Robinson +said a nigger wasn't worth but fifty cents a day. But the nigger is +coming anyhow. He is stinching hisself and doing without. The young +folks ain't doing it though. These young folks doing every devilishment +on earth they can. Look at that boy they caught the other day who had +robbed twenty houses. This young race ain't goin' to stan' what I stood +for. They goin' to school every day but they ain't learning nothin'. +What will take us through this tedious journey through the world is his +manners, his principle, and his behavior. Money ain't goin' to do it. +You can't get by without principles, manner, and good behavior. Niggers +can't do it. And white folks can't either." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsAlfred"></a> +<h3>Pine Bluff District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Martin - Barker<br> +Subject: (Negro Lore)--Ex-Slave<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Alfred Wells<br> +Place of Residence: <br> +Occupation: <br> +Age: 77</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +I has de eye of an eagle. One in my haid, de other in my chest. +Sometimes us slaves would stay out later at night than ole marster seid +we could and they send the patrols out for us. +</p> +<p> +And we started a song; "Run nigger run, the petlo' catch you, run nigger +run, its almost day." +</p> +<p> +My brother run off and hid in the pasture. I wuz a small boy, dey called +me nigger cowboy, cause I drive de cows up at night, and took em to de +paster in the mornings. +</p> +<p> +I knowed my brother runned off, but I wouldn't tell on him. He run off +to join the Yankees. They never found him, although, they used the +nigger dogs, who were taken out by men who were looking for runaway +nigger slaves. +</p> +<p> +Ef I had my choice, I'd ruther be a slave. But we cant always have our +ruthers. Them times I had good food, plenty to wear, and no more work +than was good for me. +</p> +<p> +Now I is kinder miliated, when I think of what a high stepper I used to +be. Having, to hang around with a sack on my back begging de government +to keep me fum starving. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsDouglas"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Douglas Wells<br> + 1419 Alabama Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83 </h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'se just a kid 'bout six or seven when the war started and 'bout ten +or twelve when it ceasted. +</p> +<p> +"I'se born in Mississippi on Miss Nancy Davis' plantation. Old Jeff +Davis was some relation. +</p> +<p> +"My brother Jeff jined the Yankees but I never seen none till peace was +declared. +</p> +<p> +"I heered the old folks talkin' and they said they was fightin' to keep +the people slaves. +</p> +<p> +"I 'member old mistress, Miss Nancy. She was old when I was a kid. She +had a big, large plantation. She had a lot of hands and big quarter +houses. Oh, I 'member you could go three miles this way and three miles +that way. Oh, she had a big plantation. I reckon it was mighty near big +as this town. I 'member they used to take the cotton and hide it in the +woods. I guess it was to keep the Yankees from gettin' it. +</p> +<p> +"I lived in the quarters with my father and mother and we stayed there +after the war—long time after the war. I stayed there till I got to be +grown. I continued there. I 'member her house and yard. Had a big yard. +</p> +<p> +"I can read some. Learned it at Miss Nancy Davis' plantation after the +war. They had a little place where they had school. I went to church +some a long time ago. +</p> +<p> +"Abraham Lincoln was a white man. He fought in the time of the war, +didn't he? Oh, yes, he issued freedom. The Yankees and the Rebels +fought. +</p> +<p> +"After the war I worked at farm work. I ain't did no real hard work for +over a year." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsJohn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: John Wells, Edmondson, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born down here at Edmondson, Arkansas. My owner was a captain in +the Rebel War (Civil War). He run us off to Texas close to Greenville. +He was keeping us from the Yankees. In fact my father had planned to go +to the Yankees. My mother died on the way to Texas close to the Arkansas +line. She was confined and the child died too. We went in a wagon. Uncle +Tom and his wife and Uncle Granville went too. He left his wife. She +lived on another white man's farm. My master was Captain R. Campbell +Jones. He took us to Texas. He and my father come back in the same wagon +we went to Texas in. My father (Joe Jones Wells) told Captain R. +Campbell Jones if he didn't let him come back here that he would be here +when he got here—beat him back. That's what he told him. Captain +brought him on back with him. +</p> +<p> +"What didn't we do in Texas? Hooeee! I had five hundred head of sheep +belonging to J. Gardner, a Texan, to herd every day—twice a day. Carry +'em off in the morning early and watch 'em and fetch 'em back b'fore +dark. I was a shepherd boy is right. I liked the job till the snow +cracked my feet open. No, I didn't have no shoes. Little round cactuses +stuck in my feet. +</p> +<p> +"I had shoes to wear home. Captain Jones gave leather and everything +needed to Uncle Granville. He was a shoemaker. He made us all shoes jus' +before we was to start back. Captain Jones sent the wagon back for us. +My father come back right here at Edmondson and farmed cotton and corn. +Uncle Tom and Uncle Granville raised wheat out in Texas. They didn't +have no overseer but they said they worked harder 'an ever they done in +their lives, 'fore or since. +</p> +<p> +"My father went to war with his master. Captain Jones served 'bout three +years I judge. My father went as his waiter. He got enough of war, he +said. +</p> +<p> +"Captain R. Campbell Jones had a wife, Miss Anne, and no children. I +seen mighty near enough war in Texas. They fit there. Yes ma'am, they +did. I seen soldiers in Greenville, Texas. I seen the cavalry there. +They looked so fine. Prettiest horses I ever seen. +</p> +<p> +"Freedom! Master Campbell Jones come to us and said, 'You free this +morning. The war is over.' It been over then but travel was slow. 'You +all can go back home, I'll take you, or you can go root hog or die.' We +all got to gatherin' up our belongings to come back home. Tired of no +wood neither, besides that hard work. We all share cropped with Captain +R. Campbell Jones two years. I know that. We got plenty wood without +going five or six miles like in Texas. After freedom folks got to +changing 'bout to do better I reckon. I been farmin' right here all my +life. We didn't have a lot to eat out in Texas neither. Mother was a +farm woman too. +</p> +<p> +"I never seen a Ku Klux. Bad Ku Klux sound sorter like good Santa Claus. +I heard 'em say it was real. I never seen neither one. +</p> +<p> +"I did own ten acres of land. I own a home now. +</p> +<p> +"My father drove a grub wagon from Memphis to Lost Swamp Bottom—near +Edmondson—when they built this railroad through here. +</p> +<p> +"Father never voted. I have voted several times. +</p> +<p> +"Present times is tougher now than before it come on. Things not going +like it ought somehow. We wants more pension. Us old folks needs a good +living 'cause we ain't got much more time down here. +</p> +<p> +"Present generation—they are slack—I means they slack on their +parents, don't see after them. They can get farm work to do. They waste +their money more than they ought. Some folks purty nigh hungry. That is +for a fact the way it is going. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Edmondson, Arkansas</b></p> +<p> +"Master Henry Edmondson owned all the land to the Chatfield place to +Lehi, Arkansas. He owned four or five thousand acres of land. It was +bottoms and not cleared. They had floods then, rode around in boats +sometimes. Colored folks could get land through Andy Flemming (colored +man). Mr. Henry Edmondson and whole family died with the yellow fever. +He had several children—Miss Emma, Henry, and Will I knowed. It is +probably his father buried at far side of this town. A rattlesnake bit +him. Lake Rest or Scantlin was a boat landing and that was where the +nearest white folks lived to the Edmondsons. I worked for Mr. Henry +Edmondson, the one died with yellow fever. He was easy to work for. Land +wasn't cleared out much. He was here before the Civil War. Good many +people, in fact all over there, died of yellow fever at Indian Mound. Me +and my brother waited on white folks all through that yellow fever +plague. Very few colored folks had it. None of 'em I heered tell of died +with it. White folks died in piles. Now when the smallpox raged the +colored folks had it seem like heap more and harder than white folks. +Smallpox used to rage every few years. It break out and spread. That is +the way so many colored folks come to own land and why it was named +Edmondson. Named for Master Henry—Edmondson, Arkansas. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Cynthia Ann Earle wrote a diary during the Civil War. It was +partly published in the Crittenden County Times—West Memphis +paper—Fridays, November 27 and December 4, 1936. She tells interesting +things happening. Mentions two books she is reading. She tells about a +flood, etc. She tells about visiting and spending over a thousand +dollars. Mrs. L.A. Stewart or Mrs. H.E. Weaver of Edmondson owns copies +if they cannot be obtained at the printing office at West Memphis." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsSarah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Wells<br> + 1012 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84<br> +Occupation: Field hand</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Warren County, Mississippi, on Ben Watkins' plantation. +That was my master—Ben Worthington. I don't know nothin' about the year +but it was before the war—the Civil War. I was born on Christmas day. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac Irby was my father. I don't know how you spell it. I can't read +and write. I can tell you this. My mother's dead. She's been dead since +I was twelve years old. Her name was Jane Irby. My name is Wells because +I have been married. Willis was my husband's name. I have just been +married once. I was married to him fifty years. He has been dead +thirteen years the fifteenth of October. I don't know how old I was when +I was married. But I know I am eighty-four years old now. I must have +been about twenty or twenty-one when I married. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Slave Houses</b></p> +<p> +"The slaves lived in log houses, dirt chimneys, plank floors. They had +beds made out of wood—that's all I know. I don't know where they kept +their food. They kept it in the house when they had any. The slaves +didn't have to cook much. Mars Ben had a slave to cook for them. They +all et breakfast together, and lunch in the fiel'. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Food and Cooking</b></p> +<p> +"There was a great big shed. They'd all go up there and eat—the slaves +would all go up and eat. I don't know what the grown folks had. They +used to give us children milk and corn bread for breakfast. They'd give +us greens, peas, and all like that for dinner. Didn't know nothin' about +no lunch. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Work and Runaways; Day's Work</b></p> +<p> +"My mother and father worked in the field hoeing, plowing and all like +that—doing whatever they told 'em to do. They raised corn and ground +meal. Some of the slaves would pick five hundred pounds of cotton in a +day; some of them would pick three hundred pounds; and some of them only +picked a hundred. IF YOU DIDN'T PICK TWO HUNDRED FIFTY POUNDS, THEY'D +PUNISH YOU, put you in the stocks. If you'd run off, they put the nigger +hounds behind you. I never run off, but my mother run off. +</p> +<p> +"She would go in the woods. I don't know where she'd go after she'd get +in the woods. She would go in the woods and hide somewheres. She'd take +somethin' to eat with her. I couldn't find her myself. She take +somethin' to eat with her. She didn't know what flour bread was. I don't +remember what she'd take—somethin' she could carry. Sometimes she would +stay in the woods two months, sometimes three months. They'd pay for the +nigger hounds and let them chase her back. She'd try to get away. She +never took me with her when she ran away. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Buying and Selling</b></p> +<p> +"My mother and her sister were bought in old Virginny. Ben Watkins was +the one that bought her. He bought my father too. Then he sold my father +to the Leightons. Leighton bought my father from Ben Watkins for a +carriage driver. I was never bought nor sold. I was born on Ben Watkins' +plantation and freed on it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> +<p> +"I've heered them say the pateroles is out. I don't know who they was. I +know they'd whip you. I was a child then. I would just know what I was +told mostly. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> +<p> +"The Yankees told my mother she was free. They had on blue clothes. They +said them was the Yankees. I don't know what they told her. I know they +said she was free. That's all I know. +</p> +<p> +"Sometimes the soldiers would do right smart damage. They set a lot of +houses on fire. They done right smart damage. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Jeff Davis</b></p> +<p> +"I have seen Jeff Davis. I never seen Lincoln. They said it was Jeff +Davis I seen. I seen him in Vicksburg. That was after the war was over. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> +<p> +"I have heered about the Ku Klux, but I don't know what it was I heered. +They never bothered me. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Right after the War</b></p> +<p> +"Right after the war, my mother and father hired out to work. They did +most any kind of work—whatever they could get to do. Mother cooked. +Father would generally do house cleaning. Mother didn't live long after +the war. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Blood Poisoning</b></p> +<p> +"I lost my finger because of blood poisoning. I had a scratch on my +finger. Pulled a hangnail out of it. I went around a lady who had a high +fever and she asked me to sponge her off and I did it. I got the finger +in the water that I sponged with and it got blood poisoned. I like to +have died. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Father's Death</b></p> +<p> +"I was married and had three children when my father died. I don't know +what he died with nor what year. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had had seven children—all girls. I had seven children. But +three of mine were boys and four were girls. Ain't none of them living +now. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Little Rock</b></p> +<p> +"My son was living in Little Rock and he kept after me to come here and +I come. After I come, he left and went to Kansas City. He died there. I +used to do laundry work. I quit that. I commenced to do sellin' for +different companies. I sold for Mack Brady, Crawford & Reeves, and a lot +of 'em. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> +<p> +"I don't know what I think about the young people. They ain't nothin' +like I was when I was a gal. Things have changed since I come along. I +better not say what I think." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +The interviewee says she is eighty-four, and her story hangs together. +Her husband died thirteen years ago, and they had been married fifty +years when he died. She "recollects" being about twenty years old when +she married. She says she was about twelve years old when her mother +died, one year after the close of the Civil War. This data seems to be +rather conclusive on the age of eighty-four. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsSarahWilliams"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Williams Wells, Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1866</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I jess can't tell much; my memory fails me. My white folks was John and +Mary Williams but I was born two years after the surrender. Soon after +the surrender they went to Lebanon, Tennessee. My folks stayed on wha I +was born round in Murry County. My father was killed after the war but I +was little. My mother died same year I married. I heard em say there was +John and Frank. They may be living over there now. I heard em talking +bout war times. They said my father was a blacksmith in the war. I come +here wid four little children on a ticket to Crocketts Bluff. We was +sick all that year. Made a fine crop. The man let another man have us to +work. He was a colored man. His wife she was mean to us. She never come +to see or do one thing when we all had fever. The babies nearly starved. +Took all for doctor bills and medicine. Had $12 when all bills settled +out of the whole crop. In all I had fifteen children. But two girls and +one boy all that livin now. I farmed and washed and ironed all my life. +My husband was born a slave. (He recently died.) +</p> +<p> +"The present generation ain't got no religion. They dances and cuts up a +heap. They don't care nothing bout settlin down. When they marry now, +that man say he got the law on her. She belongs to him. He thinks he can +make her do like he wants her all the time and they don't get along. Now +that's what I hear round. I sho got married and we got along good till +he died. We treated one another best we knowed how. The times is what +the folks making it. Time ain't no different, is like the folks make. +This depression is whut the folks is making. Some so scared they won't +get it all. They leave mighty little for the rest to get. They ain't +nothin matter with nothin but the greedy people want it all to split +through wid. I don't know what going to come of it all. Nothin I tell +you bout it ain't no good. Young folks done smarter than I is. They +don't listen to nobody." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WesleyJohn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: John Wesley, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: ?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was full grown when the Civil War come on. I was a slave till +'mancipation. I was born close to Lexington, Kentucky. My master in +Kentucky was Master Griter. He was 'fraid er freedom. Father belong to +Averys in Tennessee. He was a farm hand. They wouldn't sell him. I was +sold to Master Boone close to Moscow. I was sold on a scaffold high as +that door (twelve feet). I seen a lot of children sold on that scaffold. +I fell in the hands of George Coggrith. We come to Helena in wagons. We +crossed the river out from Memphis to Hopefield. I lived at Wittsburg, +Arkansas during the war. They smuggled us about from the Yankees and +took us to Texas. Before the war come on we had to fight the Indians +back. They tried to sell us in Texas. George Coggrith's wife died. +Mother was the cook for all the hands and the white folks too. She +raised two boys and three girls for him. She went on raising his +children during the war and after the war. During the war we hid out and +raised cotton and corn. We hid in the woods. The Yankees couldn't make +much out in the woods and canebrakes. We stayed in Texas about a year. +Four years after freedom we didn't know we was free. We was on his farm +up at Wittsburg. That is near Madison, Arkansas. Mother wouldn't let the +children get far off from our house. She was afraid the Indians would +steal the children. They stole children or I heard they did. The wild +animals and snakes was one thing we had to look out for. Grown folks and +children all kept around home unless you had business and went on a +trip. +</p> +<p> +"My wife died three years ago. I stay with a grandchild. I got a boy but +I don't know where he is now. +</p> +<p> +"I had a acre and a home. I got in debt and they took my place. +</p> +<p> +"I voted. The last time for President Wilson. We got a good President +now. I voted both kinds of tickets some. I think they called me a +Democrat. I quit voting. I'm too old. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed in my young days. I oil milled. I saw milled. I still black +smithing (in Helena now). I make one or two dollars a week. Work is hard +to git. Times is tight. I don't get help 'ceptin' some friend bring us +some work. I stay up here all time nearly. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know about the young generation. +</p> +<p> +"Well, we had a gin. During of the war it got burnt and lots of bales of +cotton went 'long with it. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux come about and drink water. They wanted folks to stay at +home and work. That what they said. We done that. We didn't know we was +free nohow. We wasn't scared." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WesleyRobert"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Robert Wesley, Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Shelby County, Alabama. My parents was Mary and Thomas +Wesley. Their master was Mary and John Watts. +</p> +<p> +"John Watts tried to keep me. I stayed round him all time and rode up +behind him on his horse. He was a soldier. +</p> +<p> +"Both my parents was sold but I don't know how it was done. There was +thirteen children in our family. The white folks had a picnic and took +colored long to do round. Some heard bout freedom and went home tellin' +bout it. We stayed on and worked. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux sure did run some of em. Seem like they didn't know what +freedom meant. Some of em run off and kept goin'. Never did get back. I +don't know a thing bout the Ku Klux. I heard em say they got whoopin's +for doin' too much visitin'. I was a baby so I don't know. +</p> +<p> +"I do not vote. I voted for McKinley in Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"I been farmin' all my life. I got one hog and a garden, three little +grand babies. My daughter died and their papa went off and left em. +Course I took em—had to. I pay $1 house rent. I get $12 from the PWA. +</p> +<p> +"The times is mighty fast. I recken the young folks do fair. There has +been big changes since I come on." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WesmolandMaggie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Maggie Wesmoland, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Arkansas in slavery time beyond Des Arc. My parents was +sold in Mississippi. They was brought to Arkansas. I never seed my +father after the closing of the war. He had been refugeed to Texas and +come back here, then he went on back to Mississippi. Mama had seventeen +children. She had six by my stepfather. When my stepfather was mustered +out at De Valls Bluff he come to Miss (Mrs.) Holland's and got mama and +took her on wid him. I was give to Miss Holland's daughter. She married +a Cargo. The Hollands raised me and my sister. I never seen mama after +she left. My mother was Jane Holland and my father was Smith Woodson. +They lived on different places here in Arkansas. I had a hard time. I +was awfully abused by the old man that married Miss Betty. She was my +young mistress. He was poor and hated Negroes. He said they didn't have +no feeling. He drunk all the time. He never had been used to Negroes and +he didn't like em. He was a middle age man but Miss Betty Holland was in +her teens. +</p> +<p> +"No, mama didn't have as hard a time as I had. She was Miss Holland's +cook and wash woman. Miss Betty told her old husband, 'Papa don't beat +his Negroes. He is good to his Negroes.' He worked overseers in the +field. Nothing Miss Betty ever told him done a bit of good. He didn't +have no feeling. I had to go in a trot all the time. I was scared to +death of him—he beat me so. I'm scarred up all over now where he lashed +me. He would strip me start naked and tie my hands crossed and whoop me +till the blood ooze out and drip on the ground when I walked. The flies +blowed me time and again. Miss Betty catch him gone, would grease my +places and put turpentine on them to kill the places blowed. He kept a +bundle of hickory switches at the house all the time. Miss Betty was +good to me. She would cry and beg him to be good to me. +</p> +<p> +"One time the cow kicked over my milk. I was scared not to take some +milk to the house, so I went to the spring and put some water in the +milk. He was snooping round (spying) somewhere and seen me. He beat me +nearly to death. I never did know what suit him and what wouldn't. +Didn't nothing please him. He was a poor man, never been used to nothin' +and took spite on me everything happened. They didn't have no children +while I was there but he did have a boy before he died. He died fore I +left Dardanelle. When Miss Betty Holland married Mr. Cargo she lived +close to Dardanelle. That is where he was so mean to me. He lived in the +deer and bear hunting country. +</p> +<p> +"He went to town to buy them some things for Christmas good while after +freedom—a couple or three years. Two men come there deer hunting every +year. One time he had beat me before them and on their way home they +went to the Freemens bureau and told how he beat me and what he done it +for—biggetness. He was a biggity acting and braggy talking old man. +When he got to town they asked him if he wasn't hiding a little Negro +girl, ask if he sent me to school. He come home. I slept on a bed made +down at the foot of their bed. That night he told his wife what all he +said and what all they ask him. He said he would kill whoever come there +bothering about me. He been telling that about. He told Miss Betty they +would fix me up and let me go stay a week at my sister's Christmas. He +went back to town, bought me the first shoes I had had since they took +me. They was brogan shoes. They put a pair of his sock on me. Miss Betty +made the calico dress for me and made a body out of some of his pants +legs and quilted the skirt part, bound it at the bottom with red +flannel. She made my things nice—put my underskirt in a little frame +and quilted it so it would be warm. Christmas day was a bright warm day. +In the morning when Miss Betty dressed me up I was so proud. He started +me off and told me how to go. +</p> +<p> +"I got to the big creek. I got down in the ditch—couldn't get across. I +was running up and down it looking for a place to cross. A big old mill +was upon the hill. I could see it. I seen three men coming, a white man +with a gun and two Negro men on horses or mules. I heard one say, +'Yonder she is.' Another said, 'It don't look like her.' One said, 'Call +her.' One said, 'Margaret.' I answered. They come to me and said, 'Go to +the mill and cross on a foot log.' I went up there and crossed and got +upon a stump behind my brother-in-law on his horse. I didn't know him. +The white man was the man he was share croppin' with. They all lived in +a big yard like close together. I hadn't seen my sister before in about +four years. Mr. Cargo told me if I wasn't back at his house New Years +day he would come after me on his horse and run me every step of the way +home. It was nearly twenty-five miles. He said he would give me the +worst whooping I ever got in my life. I was going back, scared not to be +back. Had no other place to live. +</p> +<p> +"When New Year day come the white man locked me up in a room in his +house and I stayed in there two days. They brought me plenty to eat. I +slept in there with their children. Mr. Cargo never come after me till +March. He didn't see me when he come. It started in raining and cold and +the roads was bad. When he come in March I seen him. I knowed him. I lay +down and covered up in leaves. They was deep. I had been in the woods +getting sweet-gum when I seen him. He scared me. He never seen me. This +white man bound me to his wife's friend for a year to keep Mr. Cargo +from getting me back. The woman at the house and Mr. Cargo had war +nearly about me. I missed my whoopings. I never got none that whole +year. It was Mrs. Brown, twenty miles from Dardanelle, they bound me +over to. I never got no more than the common run of Negro children but +they wasn't mean to me. +</p> +<p> +"When I was at Cargo's, he wouldn't buy me shoes. Miss Betty would have +but in them days the man was head of his house. Miss Betty made me +moccasins to wear out in the snow—made them out of old rags and pieces +of his pants. I had risings on my feet and my feet frostbite till they +was solid sores. He would take his knife and stob my risings to see the +matter pop way out. The ice cut my feet. He cut my foot on the side with +a cowhide nearly to the bone. Miss Betty catch him outer sight would +doctor my feet. Seem like she was scared of him. He wasn't none too good +to her. +</p> +<p> +"He told his wife the Freemens Bureau said turn that Negro girl loose. +She didn't want me to leave her. He despised nasty Negroes he said. One +of them fellows what come for me had been to Cargo's and seen me. He was +the Negro man come to show Patsy's husband and his share cropper where I +was at. He whooped me twice before them deer hunters. They visited him +every spring and fall hunting deer but they reported him to the Freemens +Bureau. They knowed he was showing off. He overtook me on a horse one +day four or five years after I left there. I was on my way from school. +I was grown. He wanted me to come back live with them. Said Miss Betty +wanted to see me so bad. I was so scared I lied to him and said yes to +all he said. He wanted to come get me a certain day. I lied about where +I lived. He went to the wrong place to get me I heard. I was afraid to +meet him on the road. He died at Dardanelle before I come way from +there. +</p> +<p> +"After I got grown I hired out cooking at $1.25 a week and then $1.50 a +week. When I was a girl I ploughed some. I worked in the field a mighty +little but I have done a mountain of washing and ironing in my life. I +can't tell you to save my life what a hard time I had when I was growing +up. My daughter is a blessing to me. She is so good to me. +</p> +<p> +"I never knowed nor seen the Ku Klux. The Bushwhackers was awful after +the war. They went about stealing and they wouldn't work. +</p> +<p> +"Conditions is far better for young folks now than when I come on. They +can get chances I couldn't get they could do. My daughter is tied down +here with me. She could do washings and ironings if she could get them +and do it here at home. I think she got one give over to her for awhile. +The regular wash woman is sick. It is hard for me to get a living since +I been sick. I get commodities. But the diet I am on it is hard to get +it. The money is the trouble. I had two strokes and I been sick with +high blood pressure three years. We own our house. Times is all right if +I was able to work and enjoy things. I don't get the Old Age Pension. I +reckon because my daughter's husband has a job—I reckon that is it. I +can't hardly buy milk, that is the main thing. The doctor told me to eat +plenty milk. +</p> +<p> +"I never voted." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WestCalvin"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Calvin West, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Mother belong to Parson Renfro. He had a son named Jim Renfro. She was +a cook and farm hand too. I never heard her speak much of her owners. +Pa's owner was Dr. West and Miss Jensie West. He had a son Orz West and +his daughter was Miss Lillie West. I never was around their owners. Some +was dead before I come on. My pa was a cripple man. His leg was drawn +around with rheumatism. During slavery he would load up a small cart wid +cider and ginger cakes and go sell it out. He sold ginger cakes two for +a nickel and I never heard how he sold the cider. I heard him tell close +speriences he had with the patrollers. Some of the landowners didn't +want him trespassing on their places. He got a part of the money he sold +out for. I judge from what he said his owner got part for the wagon and +horse. He sold some at stores before freedom. He farmed too. His name +was Phillip West and mother's name was Lear West. He was a crack hand at +making ginger cakes. He sold wagon loads in town on Saturday till he +died. I was a boy nearly grown. They had ten children in all. I was born +in Tate County, Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Miller had land here. I didn't work for him but he wanted me to +come here and work his land. He give us tickets. He said this was new +land and we could do better. We work a lot and make big crops and don't +hardly get a living out of it. We come on the train here. +</p> +<p> +"We come in 1920. The way we got down here now it is bad. We make big +crops and don't get much for it. We have no place to raise things to +help out and pay big prices for everything. I work. But times is hard. +That is the very reason it is hard. We got no place to raise nothing. +(Hard road and ditch in front and cotton field all around it except a +few feet of padded dirt and a wood pile.) Times is good and if a fellow +could ever get a little ahead I believe he could stay ahead. Since my +wife been sick we jes' can make it. +</p> +<p> +"We never called for no help. She cooked and I worked. She signed up but +it will be a long time, they said, till they could get to her." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WestMaryMays"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Mays West, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 65</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My parents' names was Josie Vesey and Henry Mays. They had ten children +and five lived to be full grown. I was born in Tate County, Mississippi. +Mother died in childbirth when she was twenty-eight years old. I'm the +mother of twelve and got five living. I been cooking out for white +people since I was nine years old. I am a good cook they all tell me and +I tries to be clean with my cooking. +</p> +<p> +"Mother died before I can remember much about her. My father said he had +to work before day and all day and till after night in the spring and +fall of the year. They ploughed with oxen and mules and horses all. He +said how they would rest the teams and feed and still they would go on +doing something else. They tromped cotton at night by torchlight. +Tromped it in the wagons to get off to the gin early next morning. +</p> +<p> +"In the winter they built fences and houses and got up wood and cleared +new ground. They made pots of lye hominy and lye soap the same day. They +had a ashhopper set all time. In the summer is when they ditched if they +had any of that to do. Farming has been pretty much the same since I was +a child. I have worked in the field all my life. I cook in the morning +and go to the field all evening. +</p> +<p> +"We just had a hard time this winter. I had a stroke in October and had +to quit cooking. (Her eye is closed on her left side—ed.) I love farm +life. The flood last year got us behind too. We could do fine if I had +my health." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WethingtonSylvester"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sylvester Wethington<br> + Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I recollect seeing the Malish (Malitia) pass up and down the road. I +can tell you two things happened at our house. The Yankee soldiers come +took all the stock we had all down to young mistress' mule. They come +fer it. Young mistress got a gun, went out there, put her side saddle on +the mule and climbed up. They let her an' that mule both be. Nother +thing they had a wall built in betwix er room and let hams and all kinds +provisions swing down in thor. It went unnoticed. I recken it muster +been 3 ft. wide and long as the room. Had to go up in the loft from de +front porch. The front porch wasn't ceiled but a place sawed out so you +could get up in the loft. They used a ladder and went up there bout once +a week. They swung hams and meal, flour and beef. They swung sacks er +corn down in that place. That all the place where they could keep us a +thing in de world to eat. They come an' got bout all we had. Look like +starvation ceptin' what we had stored way." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitakerJoe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Joe Whitaker, Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70 plus</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'm a blacksmith; my pa was a fine blacksmith. He was a blacksmith in +the old war (Civil War). He never got a pension. He said he loss his +sheep skin. His owners was George and Bill Whitaker. Mother always said +her owners was pretty good. I never heard my pa speak of them in that +way. They was both born in Tennessee. She was never sold. I was born in +Murray County, Tennessee too. My mother was named Fronie Whitaker and pa +Ike Whitaker. Mother had eleven children. My wife is a full-blood +Cherokee Indian. We have ten children and twenty-three grandchildren. +</p> +<p> +"I don't have a word to say against the times; they are close at +present. Nor a word to say about the next generation. I think times is +progressing and I think the people are advancing some too." +</p> +<br> +<p> +[TR: The following is typed, but scratched out by hand.]<br> +<b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Some say his wife is a small part African. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhiteJuliaA"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg<br> +Person interviewed: Mrs. Julia A. White, 3003 Cross St.,<br> + Little Rock, Ark.<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +Idiom and dialect are lacking in this recorded interview. Mrs. White's +conversation was entirely free from either. On being questioned about +this she explained that she was reared in a home where fairly correct +English was used. +<br> +</p> +<p> +My cousin Emanuel Armstead could read and write, and he kept the records +of our family. At one time he was a school director. Of course, that was +back in the early days, soon after the war closed. +</p> +<p> +My father was named James Page Jackson because he was born on the old +Jackson plantation in Lancaster county, Virginia. He named one of his +daughters Lancaster for a middle name in memory of his old home. Clarice +Lancaster Jackson was her full name. A man named Galloway bought my +father and brought him to Arkansas. Some called him by the name of +Galloway, but my father always had all his children keep the name +Jackson. There were fourteen of us, but only ten lived to grow up. He +belonged to Mr. Galloway at the time of my birth, but even at that, I +did not take the name Galloway as it would seem like I should. My father +was a good carpenter; he was a fine cook, too; learned that back in +Virginia. I'll tell you something interesting. The first cook stove ever +brought to this town was one my father had his master to bring. He was +cook at the Anthony House. You know about that, don't you? It was the +first real fine hotel in Little Rock. When father went there to be head +cook, all they had to cook on was big fireplaces and the big old Dutch +ovens. Father just kept on telling about the stoves they had in +Virginia, and at last they sent and got him one; it had to come by boat +and took a long time. My father was proud that he was the one who set +the first table ever spread in the Anthony House. +</p> +<p> +You see, it was different with us, from lots of slave folks. Some +masters hired their slaves out. I remember a drug store on the corner of +Main and Markham; it was McAlmont's drug store. Once my father worked +there; the money he earned, it went to Mr. Galloway, of course. He said +it was to pay board for mother and us little children. +</p> +<p> +My mother came from a fine family,—the Beebe family. Angeline Beebe was +her name. You've heard of the Beebe family, of course. Roswell Beebe at +one time owned all the land that Little Rock now sets on. I was born in +a log cabin where Fifth and Spring streets meet. The Jewish Synagogue is +on the exact spot. Once we lived at Third and Cumberland, across from +that old hundred-year-old-building where they say the legislature once +met. What you call it? Yes, that's it; the Hinterlider building. It was +there then, too. My father and mother had the kind of wedding they had +for slaves, I guess. Yes, ma'am, they did call them "broom-stick +weddings". I've heard tell of them. Yes, ma'am, the master and mistress, +when they find a couple of young slave folks want to get married, they +call them before themselves and have them confess they want to marry. +Then they hold the broom, one at each end, and the young folks told to +jump over. Sometimes they have a new cabin fixed all for them to start +in. After Peace, a minister came and married my father and mother +according to the law of the church and of the land. +</p> +<p> +The master's family was thoughtful in keeping our records in their own +big family Bible. All the births and deaths of the children in my +father's family was in their Bible. After Peace, father got a big Bible +for our family, and—wait, I'll show you.... Here they are, all copied +down just like out of old master's Bible.... Here's where my father and +mother died, over on this page. Right here's my own children. This space +is for me and my husband. +</p> +<p> +No ma'am, it don't make me tired to talk. But I need a little time to +recall all the things you want to know 'bout. I was so little when +freedom came I just can't remember. I'll tell you, directly. +</p> +<p> +I remember that the first thing my father did was to go down to a +plantation where the bigger children was working, and bring them all +home, to live together as one family. That was a plantation where my +mother had been; a man name Moore—James Moore—owned it. I don't know +whether he had bought my mother from Beebe or not. I can remember two +things plain what happened there. I was little, but can still see them. +One of my mother's babies died and Master went to Little Rock on a horse +and carried back a little coffin under his arm. The mistress had brought +mother a big washing. She was working under the cover of the wellhouse +and tears was running down her face. When master came back, he said: +"How come you are working today, Angeline, when your baby is dead?" +She showed him the big pile of clothes she had to wash, as mistress said. He +said: "There is plenty of help on this place what can wash. You come on +in and sit by your little baby, and don't do no more work till after the +funeral." He took up the little dead body and laid it in the coffin with +his own hands. I'm telling you this for what happened later on. +</p> +<p> +A long time after peace, one evening mother heard a tapping at the door. +When she went, there was her old master, James Moore. "Angeline," he +said, "you remember me, don't you?" Course she did. Then he told her he +was hungry and homeless. A man hiding out. The Yankees had taken +everything he had. Mother took him in and fed him for two or three days +till he was rested. The other thing clear to my memory is when my uncle +Tom was sold. Another day when mother was washing at the wellhouse and I +was playing around, two white men came with a big, broad-shouldered +colored man between them. Mother put her arms around him and cried and +kissed him goodbye. A long time after, I was watching one of my brothers +walk down a path. I told mother that his shoulders and body look like +that man she kissed and cried over. "Why honey," she says to me, +"can you remember that?" Then she told me about my uncle Tom being +sold away. +</p> +<p> +So you see, Miss, it's a good thing you are more interested in what I +know since slave days. I'll go on now. +</p> +<p> +The first thing after freedom my mother kept boarders and done fine +laundry work. She boarded officers of the colored Union soldiers; she +washed for the officers' families at the Arsenal. Sometimes they come +and ask her to cook them something special good to eat. Both my father +and mother were fine cooks. That's when we lived at Third and +Cumberland. I stayed home till I was sixteen and helped with the cooking +and washing and ironing. I never worked in a cottonfield. The boys did. +All us girls were reared about the house. We were trained to be lady's +maids and houseworkers. I married when I was sixteen. That husband died +four years later, and the next year I married this man, Joel Randolph +White. Married him in March, 1879. In those days you could put a house +on leased ground. Could lease it for five years at a time. My father put +up a house on Tenth and Scott. Old man Haynie owned the land and let us +live in the house for $25.00 a year until father's money was all gone; +then we had to move out. The first home my father really owned was at +1220 Spring street, what is now. Course then, it was away out in the +country. A white lawyer from the north—B.F. Rice was his name—got my +brother Jimmie to work in his office. Jimmie had been in school most all +his life and was right educated for colored boy then. Mr. Rice finally +asked him how would he like to study law. So he did; but all the time he +wanted to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell Jimmie to go on studying law. It +is a good education; it would help him to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell +my father he can own his own home by law. So he make out the papers and +take care of everything so some persons can't take it away. All that +time my family was working for Mr. Rice and finally got the home paid +for, all but the last payment, and Mr. Rice said Jimmie's services was +worth that. So we had a nice home all paid for at last. We lived there +till father died in 1879, and about ten years more. Then sold it. +</p> +<p> +My father had more money than many ex-slaves because he did what the +Union soldiers told him. They used to give him "greenbacks" money and +tell him to take good care of it. You see, miss, Union money was not any +good here. Everything was Confederate money. You couldn't pay for a +dime's worth even with a five dollar bill of Union money then. The +soldiers just keep on telling my father to take all the greenbacks he +could get and hide away. There wasn't any need to hide it, nobody wanted +it. Soldiers said just wait; someday the Confederate money wouldn't be +any good and greenbacks would be all the money we had. So that's how my +father got his money. +</p> +<p> +If you have time to listen, miss, I'd like to tell you about a wonderful +thing a young doctor done for my folks. It was when the gun powder +explosion wrecked my brother and sister. The soldiers at the Arsenal +used to get powder in tins called canteens. When there was a little +left—a tablespoon full or such like, they would give it to the little +boys and show them how to pour it in the palm of their hand, touch a +match to it and then blow. The burning powder would fly off their hand +without burning. We were living in a double house at Eighth and Main +then; another colored family in one side. They had lots of children, +just like us. One canteen had a lot more powder in. My brother was +afraid to pour it on his hand. He put a paper down on top of the stove +and poured it out. It was a big explosion. My little sister was standing +beside her brother and her scalp was plum blowed off and her face burnt +terribly. His hand was all gone, and his face and neck and head burnt +terribly, too. There was a young doctor live close by name Deuell. +Father ran for him. He tell my mother if she will do just exactly what +he say, their faces will come out fine. He told her to make up bread +dough real sort of stiff. He made a mask of it. Cut holes for their +eyes, nose holes and mouths, so you could feed them, you see. He told +mother to leave that on till it got hard as a rock. Then still leave it +on till it crack and come off by itself. Nobody what ever saw their +faces would believe how bad they had been burnt. Only 'round the edges +where the dough didn't cover was there any scars. Dr. Deuell only +charged my father $50.00 apiece for that grand work on my sister and +brother. +</p> +<p> +<u>Yes ma'am</u>, I'll tell you how I come to speak what you call good +English. First place, my mother and father was brought up in families +where they heard good speech. Slaves what lived in the family didn't +talk like cottonfield hands. My parents sure did believe in education. +</p> +<p> +The first free schools in Little Rock were opened by the Union for +colored children. They brought young white ladies for teachers. They had +Sunday School in the churches on Sunday. In a few years they had colored +teachers come. One is still living here in Little Rock. I wish you would +go see her. She is 90 years old now. She founded the Wesley Chapel here. +On her fiftieth anniversary my club presented her a gold medal and had +"Mother Wesley" engraved on it. Her name is Charlotte E. Stevens. She +has the first school report ever put out in Little Rock. It was in the +class of 1869. Two of my sisters were graduated from Philander Smith +College here in Little Rock and had post graduate work in Fisk +University in Nashville, Tennessee. My brothers and sisters all did well +in life. Allene married a minister and did missionary work. Cornelia was +a teacher in Dallas, Texas. Mary was a caterer in Hot Springs. Clarice +went to Colorado Springs, Colorado and was a nurse in a doctor's office. +Jimmie was the preacher, as I told you. Gus learned the drug business +and Willie got to be a painter. Our adopted sister, Molly, could do +anything, nurse, teach, manage a hotel. Yes, our parents always insisted +we had to go to school. It's been a help to me all my life. I'm the only +one now living of all my brothers and sisters. +</p> +<p> +Well ma'am, about how we lived all since freedom; it's been good till +these last years. After I married my present husband in 1879, he worked +in the Missouri Pacific railroad shops. He was boiler maker's helper. +They called it Iron Mountain shops then, though. 52 years, 6 months and +24 days he worked there. In 1922, on big strike, all men got laid off. +When they went back, they had to go as new men. Don't you see what that +done to my man? He was all ready for his pension. Yes ma'am, had worked +his full time to be pensioned by the railroad. But we have never been +able to get any retirement pension. He should have it. Urban League is +trying to help him get it. He is out on account of disability and old +age. He got his eye hurt pretty bad and had to be in the railroad +hospital a long time. I have the doctor's papers on that. Then he had a +bad fall what put him again in the hospital. That was in 1931. He has +never really been discharged, but just can't get any compensation. He +has put in his claim to the Railroad Retirement office in Washington. +I'm hoping they get to it before he dies. We're both mighty old and +feeble. He had a stroke in 1933, since he been off the railroad. +</p> +<p> +How we living now? It's mighty poorly, please believe that. In his good +years we bought this little home, but taxes so high, road assessments +and all make it more than we can keep up. My granddaughter lives with +us. She teaches, but only has school about half a year. I was trying to +educate her in the University of Wisconsin, but poor child had to quit. +In summer we try to make a garden. Some of the neighbors take in washing +and they give me ironing to do. Friends bring in fresh bread when they +bake. It takes all my granddaughter makes to keep up the mortgage and +pay all the rest. She don't have clothes decent to go. +</p> +<p> +I have about sold the last of the antiques. In old days the mistress +used to give my mother the dishes left from broken sets, odd vases and +such. I had some beautiful things, but one by one have sold them to +antique dealers to get something to help out with. My church gives me a +donation every fifth Sunday of a collection for benefit. Sometimes it is +as much as $2.50 and that sure helps on the groceries. Today I bought +four cents worth of beans and one cent worth of onions. I say you have +to cut the garment according to the cloth. You ain't even living from +hand to mouth, if the hand don't have something in it to put to the +mouth. +</p> +<p> +No ma'am, we couldn't get on relief, account of this child teaching. One +relief worker did come to see us. She was a case worker, she said. She +took down all I told her about our needs and was about ready to go when +she saw my seven hens in the yard. "Whose chickens out there?" she +asked. "I keep a few hens," I told her. "Well," she +hollered, "anybody that's able to keep chickens don't need to be on relief +roll," and she gathered up her gloves and bag and left. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, I filed for old age pension, too. It was in April, 1935 I +filed. When a year passed without hearing, I took my husband down so +they could see just how he is not able to work. They told me not to +bring him any more. Said I would get $10.00 a month. Two years went, and +I never got any. I went by myself then, and they said yes, yes, they +have my name on file, but there is no money to pay. There must be +millions comes in for sales tax. I don't know where it all goes. Of +course the white folks get first consideration. Colored folks always has +to bear the brunt. They just do, and that's all there is to it. +</p> +<p> +What do I think of the younger generation? I wouldn't speak for all. +There are many types, just like older people. It has always been like +that, though. If all young folks were like my granddaughter—I guess +there is many, too. She does all the sewing, and gardening. She paints +the house, makes the draperies and bed clothing. She can cook and do all +our laundry work. She understands raising chickens for market but just +don't have time for that. She is honest and clean in her life. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, I did vote once, a long time ago. You see, I wasn't old +enough at first, after freedom, when all the colored people could vote. +Then, for many years, women in Arkansas couldn't vote, anyhow. I can +remember when M.W. Gibbs was Police Judge and Asa Richards was a colored +alderman. No ma'am! The voting law is not fair. It's most unfair! We +colored folks have to pay just the same as the white. We pay our sales +tax, street improvement, school tax, property tax, personal property +tax, dog license, automobile license—they what have cars—; we pay +utility tax. And we should be allowed to vote. I can tell you about +three years ago a white lady come down here with her car on election day +and ask my old husband would he vote how she told him if she carried him +to the polls. He said yes and she carried him. When he got there they +told him no colored was allowed to vote in that election. Poor old man, +she didn't offer to get him home, but left him to stumble along best he +could. +</p> +<p> +I'm glad if I been able to give you some help. You've been patient with +an old woman. I can tell you that every word I have told you is true as +the gospel. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhiteJulia"></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: Another interview with J. White, by a different interviewer.]<br> +[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>Julia White</b></big>, +3003 Cross Street, Little Rock. +</p> +<p> +2. Date and time of interview— +</p> +<p> +3. Place of interview—3003 Cross 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> +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.— +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Personal History of informant</b></p> +<p> +1. Ancestry— +</p> +<p> +2. Place and date of birth—Little Rock, Arkansas, 1858 +</p> +<p> +3. Family—Two children +</p> +<p> +4. Places lived in, with dates—Little Rock all her life. +</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— +</p> +<p> +10. Other points gained in interview—She tells of accomplishments made +by the Negro race. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> +<p> +"I was born right here in Little Rock, Arkansas, eighty years ago on the +corner of Fifth and Broadway. It was in a little log house. That used to +be out in the woods. At least, that is where they told me I was born. I +was there but I don't remember it. The first place I remember was a +house on Third and Cumberland, the southwest corner. That was before the +war. +</p> +<p> +"We were living there when peace was declared. You know, my father hired +my mother's time from James Moore. He used to belong to Dick Galloway. I +don't know how that was. But I know he put my mother in that house on +Third and Cumberland while she was still a slave. And we smaller +children stayed in the house with mother, and the larger children worked +on James Moore's plantation. +</p> +<p> +"My father was at that time, I guess, you would call it, a porter at +McAlmont's drug store. He was a slave at that time but he worked there. +He was working there the day this place was taken. I'll never forget +that. It was on September 10th. We were going across Third Street, and +there was a Union woman told mamma to bring us over there, because the +soldiers were about to attack the town and they were going to have a +battle. +</p> +<p> +"I had on a pair of these brogans with brass plates on them, and they +were flapping open and I tripped up just as the rebel soldiers were +running by. One of them said, "There's a like yeller nigger, les take +her." Mrs. Farmer, the Union woman ran out and said, "No you won't; +that's my nigger." And she took us in her house. And we stayed there +while there was danger. Then my father came back from the drug store, +she said she didn't see how he kept from being killed. +</p> +<p> +"At that time, there were about four houses to the block. On the place +where we lived there was the big house, with many rooms, and then there +was the barn and a lot of other buildings. My father rented that place +and turned the outbuildings into little houses and allowed the freed +slaves to live in them till they could find another place. +</p> +<p> +"My husband was an orphan child, and the people he was living with were +George Phelps and Ann Phelps. They were freed slaves. That was after the +war. They came here and had this little boy with them, that is how I +come to meet that gentlemen over there and get acquainted with him. When +they moved away from there Phelps was caretaker of the Oakland Cemetery. +We married on the twenty-seventh day of March, 1879. I still have the +marriage license. I married twice; my first husband was George W. Glenn +and my maiden name was Jackson. I married the first time June 10, 1875. +I had two children in my first marriage. Both of than are dead. Glenn +died shortly after the birth of the last child, February 15, 1878. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. White is a mighty good man. He is put up with me all these years. +And he took mighty good care of my children, them by my first husband as +well as his own. When I was a little girl, he used to tell me that he +wouldn't have me for a wife. After we were married, I used to say to +him, 'You said you wouldn't have me, but I see you're mighty glad to get +me.' +</p> +<p> +"I have the marriage license for my second marriage. +</p> +<p> +"There's quite a few of the old ones left. Have you seen Mrs. Gillam, +and Mrs. Stephen, and Mrs. Weathers? Cora Weathers? Her name is Cora not +Clora. She's about ninety years old. She's at least ninety years old. +You say she says that she is seventy-four. That must be her insurance +age. I guess she is seventy-four at that; she had to be seventy-four +before she was ninety. When I was a girl, she was a grown woman. She was +married when my husband went to school. That has been more than sixty +years ago, because we've been married nearly sixty years. My sister Mary +was ten years older than me, and Cora Weathers was right along with her. +She knew my mother. When these people knew my mother they've been here, +because she's been dead since '94 and she would have been 110 if she had +lived. +</p> +<p> +"My mother used to feed the white prisoners—the Federal soldiers who +were being held. They paid her and told her to keep the money because it +was Union Money. You know at that time they were using Confederate +money. My father kept it. He had a little box or chest of gold and +silver money. Whenever he got any paper money, he would change it into +gold or silver. +</p> +<p> +"Mother used to make these ginger cakes—they call 'em stage planks. My +brother Jimmie would sell them. The men used to take pleasure in trying +to cheat him. He was so clever they couldn't. They never did catch him +napping. +</p> +<p> +"Somebody burnt our house; it was on a Sunday evening. They tried to say +it caught from the chimney. We all like to uv burnt up. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a carpenter, whitewasher, anything. He was a common +laborer. We didn't have contractors then like we do now. Mother worked +out in service too. Jimmie was the oldest boy. He taught school too. +</p> +<p> +"My father set the first table that was ever set in the Anthony Hotel, +he was the cause of the first stove being brought here to cook on. +</p> +<p> +"Some of the children of the people that raised my mother are still +living. They are Beebes. Roswell Beebe was a little one. They had a +colored man named Peter and he was teaching Roswell to ride and the pony +ran away. Peter stepped out to stop him and Roswell said, 'Git out of +the way Peter, and let Billie Button come'. +</p> +<p> +"I get some commodities from the welfare. But I don't get nothing like a +pension. My husband worked at the Missouri Pacific shops for fifty-two +years, and he don't git nothing neither. It was the Iron Mountain when +he first went there on June 8, 1879. He was disabled in 1932 because of +injuries received on the job in March, 1931. But they hurried him out of +the hospital and never would give him anything. That Monday morning, +they had had a loving cup given them for not having had accidents in the +plant. And at three p.m., he was sent into the hospital. He had a fall +that injured his head. They only kept him there for two days and two +hours. He was hurt in the head. Dr. Elkins himself came after him and +let him set around in the tool room. He stayed there till he couldn't do +nothing at all. +</p> +<p> +"In 1881, he got his eye hurt on the job in the service of the Missouri +Pacific. It was the Iron Mountain then. He was off about three or four +months. They didn't pay his wages while he was off. They told him they +would give him a lifetime job, but they didn't. His eye gave him trouble +for the balance of his life. Sometimes it is worse than others. He had +to go to the St. Louis Hospital quite often for about three or four +years. +</p> +<p> +"When the house on Third and Cumberland was burnt, he rebuilded it, and +the owners charged him such rent he had to move. He rebuilt it for five +hundred dollars and was to get pay in rent. The owners jumped the rent +up to twenty-five dollars a month. That way it soon took up the five +hundred dollars. Then we moved to Eighth and Main. My brother Jimmie was +in an accident there. +</p> +<p> +"He was pouring powder on a fire from an old powder horn and the flames +jumped up in the horn and exploded and crippled his hand and burnt his +face. Dr. Duel, a right young doctor, said he could cure them if father +would pay him fifty dollars a piece. My sister was burnt at the same +time as my brother. He had them make a thin dough, and put it over their +faces and he cut pieces out for their eyes, and nose, and mouth. They +left that dough on their faces and chest till the dough got hard and +peeled off by itself. It left the white skin. Gradually the face got +back to itself and took its right color again, so you couldn't tell they +had ever been burnt. The only medicine the doctor gave them was Epsom +salts. Fifty dollars for each child. I used that remedy on a school boy +once and cured him, but I didn't charge him nothing. +</p> +<p> +"I have a program which was given in 1874. They don't give programs like +that now. People wouldn't listen that long. We each of us had two and +three, and some of us had six and seven parts to learn. We learnt them +and recited them and came back the next night to give a Christmas Eve +program. You can make a copy of it if you want. +</p> +<p> +"A.C. Richmond is Mrs. Childress' brother. Anna George is Bee Daniels' +mother (Bee Daniels is Mrs. Anthony, a colored public school teacher +here). Corinne Jordan is living on Gaines between Eighth and Ninth +streets. She is about seventy-five years old now. She was about Mollie's +age and I was about five years older than Molly. Mary Riley is C.C. +Riley's sister. C.C. Riley is Haven Riley's father. C.C. is dead now. +Haven Riley was a teacher, at Philander Smith, for a while. He's a +stenographer now. August Jackson and J.W. Jackson are my brothers. W.O. +Emory became one of our pastors at Wesley. John Bush, everybody's heard +of him. He had the Mosaic temple and got a big fortune together before +he died, but his children lost it all. Annie Richmond is Annie +Childress, the wife of Professor E.C. Childress, the State Supervisor. +Corinne Winfrey turned out to be John Bush's wife. Willie Lane married +W.O. Emery. Scipio Jordan became the big man in the Tabernacle. H.H. +Gilkey went to the post office. He married Lizzie Hull. She's living +still too." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Extra Comment</b></p> +<p> +The marriage license which Mrs. White showed me, was issued March 27, +1879, by A.W. Worthen, County Clerk, per W.H.W. Booker to Julia Glen and +J.R. White. It carries the name of Reverend W.H. Crawford who was the +Pastor of Wesley Chapel Church at that time. The license was issued in +Pulaski County. +</p> + +<pre> +GRAND ENTERTAINMENT AT WESLEY CHAPEL +Wednesday Evening, Dec'r. 23, 1874 + +PROGRAMME + + +Part I + +Address by the General Manager Mr. A.C. Richmond + +Song--We Come Today By the School + +Prayer Rev. William Henry Crawford + +Declamation--My Mother's Bible Miss Annie George + +Dialogue--Three Little Graves Miss M. Upshaw and + Miss M.A. Scruggs + +Dialogue--About Heaven Miss Julia Jackson and + Miss Alice Richardson + +Declamation--Mud Pie Miss Amelia Rose + +Declamation--Ducklins and Miss Goren Jordan + Ducklins + +Dialogue--The Beggar Mr. H.H. Gilkey and + Mr. W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Work While Master Albert Pryor + You Work + +Dialogue--The Miser Mr. C.C. Riley and + Mr. Charles Hurtt, Jr. + +Declamation--Pretty Pictures Miss Cally Sanders + +Declamation--Into the Sunshine Miss Mollie Jackson + +Song--Joy Bells By the School + +Dialogue--Sharp Shooting Master Asa Richmond, + Scipio Jordan, + and Miss Laura A. Morgan + +Declamation--What I Know Master Morton Hurtt + +Declamation--The Side to Look On Miss Dora Frierson + +Dialogue--The Tattler Miss Mary Alexander, + Miss M.A. Scrugg, + Miss Mary Rose + +Declamation--Little Clara Miss Rebecca Ferguson + +Dialogue--John Williams' Choice Scipio Jordan, H.H. Gilkey + and Julia Jackson + +Declamation--A Good Rule + Miss Lilly Pryor + +Declamation--Complaint of the Poor + Miss Riley + +Dialogue--The Examination + L.H. Haney, Jackson Crawford + and John Richmond + +THE END. + + +Part II. + +Dialogue--The Maniac + +Miss Willie Lane, A.C. Richmond, + Rafe May, and Master A. Pryon + +Dialogue--Father, Dear Father; + or The Fruits of Drunkenness + +John E. Bush, W.A.M. Cypers, + Wm. Emery, Miss Coren Winfrey, + Miss Maggie Green, and others. + +Dialogue--An Awakening + +Miss Mollie Pryor and + Miss Annie Richmond + +Dialogue--Betsy and I are out + +Alex. Scruggs and W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Lily of the Valley + +Miss Mary Foster + +Dialogue--Hasty Judgment + +C.C. Riley, A.C. Richmond, + Cypers and Haney + +Declamation--The Little Shooter + +Master August Jackson + +Dialogue--Practical Lesson + +Miss Julia Jackson, and August Jackson + +Declamation--Bird and the Baby + +Miss Julia Foster + +Dialogue--Scenes in the Police Court + +Richmond, Bush, and Emery + +Ballad--Yankee Doodle Dandy + +J.E. Bush + + +Part III + +Dialogue--Colloquy in Church + +Alice Richardson and Mollie + +Declamation--Lucy Gray + +Miss Alice Moore + +Dialogue--Matrimony + +Miss Willie Lane, M.A. Scruggs, + Mary Alexander, Mr. C.C. Riley + +Dialogue--Traveler + +Morton Hurtt and Scipio Jordan + +Declamation--Truth in Parenthesis + +Alice Moore. + +Dialogue--Forty Years Ago Ales, Scruggs, and J.P. Winfrey + +Declamation--The Last Footfall Lizzie Hull + +Declamation--Gone with a John E. Bush, Miss Maggie Green, + Handsomer Man than Me and H.G. Clay + +Declamation--Golden Side Annie Richmond + +Declamation--The Union was Swan Jeffries + saved by the Colored + Volunteers + +Dialogue--Relief Aid Saving Maggie Scruggs, Mary Ross, + Society Lizzie Hull, Alice Moore, + Mary Alexander, Mollie Pryor, + Annie Fairchild, Lizzie Wind, + Julia Jackson, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Song-Dutch Band A.C. Richardson, Wm. Emery, + J.H. Haney, W.A.M. Cypers, + J.O. Alexander, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Declamation--Number One Alice Richardson + +Declamation--What to Wear, and Miss Coren Winfrey + How to Wear It + +Dialogue--A Desirable J.E. Bush, J.W. Jackson, + A.C. Richmond + +Dialogue-The Little Bill Marion Henderson, J.E. Bush, + Miss Willie Lane, Miss Laura A. + Morgan, Asa Richmond, Jr. + +Dialogue--Country Aunt's Visit Henry Jackson, Misses Allice and + Julia Crawford, Maggie Howell, + Julia Jackson + +Dialogue--Beauty and the Beast Marion Henderson, Julia Jackson, + (six Scenes) Laura Morgan, Mary Scruggs, + Mary Ross, Coren Winfrey, + Willie Lane, Lizzie Wind, + Alice Crawford, J.E. Bush, + J.P. Winfrey + +Dialogue--How not to Get M.A. Scruggs and Mary Alexander + and Answer + +Declamation--The Incidents of John Richmond + Travel +</pre> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +This program was given on one night, and the participants doubled right +back the next night on another lengthy program celebrating Christmas Eve. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interview (continued)</b></p> +<p> +"The Commissary was on the northeast corner of Third and Cumberland. +They used to call it the government commissary building. It took up a +whole half block. Mrs. Farmer, the white woman, was living in what you +call the old Henderliter Place, the building on the northwest corner, +during the War. She was a Union woman, and was the one that took us in +when the Confederate soldiers were passing and wanted to take us to +Texas with them. +</p> +<p> +"I was so small I didn't know much about things then. When peace was +declared a preacher named Hugh Brady, a white man, came here and he had +my mother and father to marry over again. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Stephens' father was one of the first school-teachers here for +colored people. There were a lot of white people who came here from the +North to teach. Peabody School used to be called the Union School. Mrs. +Stephens has the first report of the school dated 1869. It gives the +names of the directors and all. J.H. Benford was one of the Northern +teachers. Anna Ware and Louise Coffman and Miss Henley were teachers +too. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Stephens is the oldest colored teacher in Little Rock. The A-B-C +children didn't want the old men to teach us. So they would teach +'Lottie'—she was only twelve years old then—and she would hear our +lessons. Then at recess time, we would all get out and play together. +She was my play mama. Her father, William Wallace Andrews, the first +pastor of Wesley Chapel M.E. Church, was the head teacher and Mr. Gray +was the other. They were teaching in Wesley Chapel Church. It was then +on Eighth and Broadway. This was before Benford's time. It was just +after peace had been declared. I don't know where Andrews come from nor +how much learning he had. Most of the people then got their learning +from white children. But I don't know where he got his. +</p> +<p> +"Wesley was his first church as far as I know. Before the War all the +churches were in with the white people. After freedom, they drew out. +Whether Wesley was his first church or not, he was Wesley's first +pastor. I got a history of the church." +</p> +<p> +"They had a real Sunday-school in those days. My sister when she was a +child about twelve years old said three hundred Bible verses at one time +and received a book as a prize. The book was named 'A Wonderful +Deliverance' and other Stories, printed by the American Tract Society, +New York, 150 Nassau Street. My sister's name was Mollie Jackson." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhiteLucy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Lucy White, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born on Jim Banks' place close to Felton. His wife named Miss +Puss. Mama and all of young master's niggers was brought from +Mississippi. I reckon it was 'fore I was born. Old master name Mack +Banks. I never heard mama say but they was good to my daddy. They had a +great big place in Mississippi and a good big place over here. +</p> +<p> +"I recollect seeing the soldiers prance 'long the road. I thought they +looked mighty pretty. Their caps and brass buttons and canteens shining +in the sun. They rode the prettiest horses. One of 'em come in our house +one day. He told Miss Puss he was goiner steal me. She say, 'Don't take +her off.' He give me a bundle er bread and I run in the other room and +crawled under the bed 'way back in the corner. It was dark up under +there. I didn't eat the bread then but I et it after he left. It sure +was good. I didn't recollect much but seeing them pass the road. I like +to watch 'em. My parents was field folks. I worked in the field. I was +raised to work. I keep my clothes clean. I washed 'em. I cooked and +washed and ironed and done field work all. When I first recollect +Marianna, Mr. Lon Tau and Mr. Free Landing (?) had stores here. Dr. +Steven (Stephen?) and Dr. Nunnaly run a drug store here. There was a big +road here. Folks started building houses here and there. They called the +town Mary Ann fo' de longest time. +</p> +<p> +"Well, the white folks told 'am, 'You free.' My folks worked on fer +about twenty years. They'd give 'em a little sompin outer dat crap. They +worked all sorter ways—that's right—they sure did. They rented and +share cropped together I reckon after the War ended. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. I heard 'bout 'em other places. +</p> +<p> +"I never voted and I never do 'sepect to now. What I know 'bout votin'? +</p> +<p> +"Well, I tell you, these young folks is cautions. They don't think so +but they is. Lazy, no'count, spends every cent they gits in their hands. +Some works, some work hard. They drink and carouse about all night +sometimes. No ma'am, I did not do no sich er way. I woulder been ashamed +of myself. I would. Times what done run away wid us all now. I don't +know what to look fer now but I know times changing all the time. +</p> +<p> +"I gets ten dollars and some little things to eat along. I say it do +help out. I got rheumatism and big stiff j'ints (enlarged wrist and +knuckles)." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitemanDavid"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: David Whiteman (c)<br> +Age: 88<br> +Home: 104 N. Kansas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas.</h3> +<br> +<p> +"How de do lady. Oh yes, I was a pretty good sized boy when the war +started. My old marster was sponsible Smith. My young marster was his +son-in-law. I member 'bout the Yankees and the "Revels". I member when a +great big troop of 'em went to war. Some of 'em was cryin' and some was +laughin'. I tried to get young marster to let me go with him, but he +wouldn't let me. Old marster was too old to go and his son dodged around +and didn't go either. I member he caught hisself a wild mustang and tied +hisself on it and rode off and they never did see him again. +</p> +<p> +"I know when they was fightin' we use to hear the balls when they was +goin' over. I used to pick up many a ball. +</p> +<p> +"I wish my recollection was with me like it used to be." (At this point +his wife spoke up and said "Seems like since he had the flu, his mind is +kinda frazzled.") +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I member the Ku Klux. They used to have the colored folks +dodgin' around tryin' to keep out of their way." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitesideDolly"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Dolly Whiteside (c)<br> +Age: 81<br> +Home: 103 Oregon Street, Pine Bluff, Ark.</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I reckon I did live in slavery times—look at my hair. +</p> +<p> +"I been down sick—I been right low and they didn't speck me to live. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I'll tell you. I was old enough to know when they runned us to +Texas so the Yankees couldn't overtaken us. We was in Texas when freedom +come, I remember I was sittin on the fence when the soldiers in them +blue uniforms with gold buttons come. He said, "I come to tell you you +is free". I didn't know what it was all about but everybody was sayin' +"Thank God". I thought it was the judgment day and I was lookin' for +God. I said to myself, I'm goin' have some buttons like that some day. +</p> +<p> +"Colonel Williams was my marster. My mother was a nurse and took care of +the colored folks when they was sick. I remember when people wasn't +given nothin' but blue mass, calomel, castor oil and gruel, and every +body was healthier than they is now. +</p> +<p> +"I'm the only one livin' that my mother birthed in this world. I was +born here, but I been travelin', I been to Memphis and around. +</p> +<p> +"No mam, I don't remember nothin' else. I done tole you all I know." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitfieldJW"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: J.W. Whitfield<br> + 3100 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 60<br> +Occupation: Preacher</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My father's name was Luke Whitfield. He was sixty-three years old when +he died in 1902. He was twenty-six years old when the Civil War ended. +He was a slave. There were three other boys in the family besides him. +No girls. +</p> +<p> +"His old mars' name was Bill Carraway. They lived at Nubian [HW: New +Bern], North Carolina. +</p> +<p> +"My father said that his work in slavery time was blacksmithing. He had +to fix the wagons and the plow too. He said that was his work during the +Civil War too. He worked in the Confederate army too. +</p> +<p> +"I remember him saying how they whipped him when he ran off. The +overseer got after him to whip him and he and one of his friends ran +off. As they jumped over the fence to go into the woods the old mars hit +my daddy with a cat-o-nine tails. You see, they took a strap of harness +leather and cut it into four thongs and then they took another and cut +it into five thongs, and they tied them together. When you got one blow +you got nine and when you got five blows you got forty-five. As his old +mars hit him, he said. 'I got him one, sir; it was a good one too, sir, +and a go-boy.'[HW: ?] But it was nine. +</p> +<p> +"My father told me how they married in slavery times. They didn't count +marriage like they do now. If one landowner had a girl and another +wanted that girl for one of his men, they would give him her to wife. +When a boy-child was born out of this marriage they would reserve him +for breeding purposes if he was healthy and robust. But if he was puny +and sickly they were not bothered about him. Many a time if the boy was +desirable, he was put on the stump and auctioned off by the time he was +thirteen years old. They called that putting him on the block. Different +ones would come and bid for him and the highest bidder would get him. +</p> +<p> +"My father spoke of a pass. That was when they wanted to see the girls +they would have to get a pass from the old mars. My father would speak +to his mars and get a pass. If he didn't have a pass, the other mars +would give him a whipping and sent him back. I told you about how they +whipped them. They used to use those cat-o-nine tails on them when they +didn't have a pass. +</p> +<p> +"They lived in a log cabin dobbed with dirt and their clothes were woven +on a loom. They got the cotton, spun it on the spinning-wheel, wove it +on the loom on rainy days. The women spun the thread and wove the cloth. +For the boys from five to fifteen years old, they would make long shirts +out of this cloth. The shirts had deep scallops in them. Then they would +take the same cloth and dye it with indigo and make pants out of it. The +boys never wore those pants in the field. No young fellow wore pants +until he began to court. +</p> +<p> +"My mother was a girl that was sold in Lenoir County, near Kenston, [HW: +Kinston?] North Carolina. My father met her in a place called Buford, +[HW: Beaufort? Carteret Co.] North Carolina. My father was sold several +times. The owner sold her to his owner and they jumped over a broomstick +and were married. My daddy's mars bought my mother for him. Her name was +Penny." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitmoreSarah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Whitmore, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> +Age: 100</h3> +<br> +<p> +<b>Note:</b> The interviewer found this ex-slave in small quarters. The bed, +the room and the Negro were filthy. A fire burned in an ironing bucket, +mostly papers and trash for fuel. During the visit of the interviewer a +white girl brought a tray with a measuring cup of coffee and two slices +of bread with butter and fruit spread between. When asked where she got +her dinner she said "The best way I can" meaning somebody might bring it +to her. Her hands are too stiff and shaky to cook. Her eye sight is so +bad she cannot clean her room. Two WPA county visitors, girls, bathe her +at intervals. +</p> +<p> +"I was born between Jackson and Brandon. Sure I was born down in +Mississippi. My mother's name they tole me was Rosie. She died when I +was a baby. My father named Richard Chamber. They called him Dick. He +was killed direckly after the war by a white man. He was a Rebel scout. +The man named Hodge. I seed him. He shot my father. Them questions been +called over to me so much I most forgot 'em. Well some jes' lack 'em. My +father's master was Hal Chambers and his wife Virginia. Recken I do +'member the Ku Klux. They scared me to death. I go under the bed every +time when I see them about. Then was when my father was killed. He went +off with a crowd of white men. They said they was Rebel scouts. All I +know I never seed him no more since that evening. They killed him across +the line, not far from Mississippi. Chambers had two or three farms. I +was on the village farm. I had one brother. Chambers sent him to the +salt works and I never seed him no more. I was a orphant. +</p> +<p> +"Chambers make you work. I worked in the field. I come wid a crowd to +Helena. I come on a boat. I been a midwife to black and white. I used to +cook some. I am master hand at ironin'. I have no children as I knows +of. I never born none. I help raise some. I come on a fine big steamboat +wid a crowd of people. I married in Arkansas. My husband died ten or +twelve years ago. I forgot which years it was. I been livin' in this +bery house seben years. +</p> +<p> +"The Government give me $10 a month. I would wash dishes but I can't see +'bout gettin' 'round no more. +</p> +<p> +"Don't ax me 'bout the young niggers. They too fast fo me. If I see 'em +they talkin' a passel of foolish talk. Whut I knows is times is hard wid +me shows you born. +</p> +<p> +"You come back to see me. If you don't I wanter meet you all in heaben. +By, by, by." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilbornDock"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Watt McKinney<br> +Person interviewed: Dock Wilborn<br> + A mile or so from Marvell, Arkansas<br> +Age: 95</h3> +<br> +<p> +Dock Wilborn was born a slave near Huntsville, Alabama on January 7, +1843, the property of Dan Wilborn who with his three brothers, Elias, +Sam, and Ike, moved to Arkansas and settled near Marvell in Phillips +County about 1855. +</p> +<p> +According to "Uncle Dock" the four Wilborn brothers each owning more +than one hundred slaves acquired a large body of wild, undeveloped land, +divided this acreage between them and immediately began to erect +numerous log structures for housing themselves, their Negroes, and their +stock, and to deaden the timber and clear the land preparatory to +placing their crops the following season. The Wilborns arrived in +Arkansas in the early fall of the year and for several months they +camped, living in tents until such time that they were able to complete +the erection of their residences. Good, substantial, well constructed +and warm cabins were built in which to house the slaves, much better +buildings "Uncle Dock" says than those in which the average Negro +sharecropper lives today on Southern cotton plantations. And these +Negroes were given an abundance of the same wholesome food as that +prepared for the master's family in the huge kettles and ovens of the +one common kitchen presided over by a well-trained and competent cook +and supervised by the wife of the master. +</p> +<p> +During the period of slavery the more apt and intelligent among those of +the younger Negroes were singled out and given special training for +those places in which their talents indicated they would be most useful +in the life of the plantation. Girls were trained in housework, cooking, +and in the care of children while boys were taught blacksmithing, +carpentrying, and some were trained for personal servants around the +home. Some were even taught to read and to write when it was thought +that their later positions would require this learning. +</p> +<p> +According to "Uncle Dock" Wilborn, slaves were allowed to enjoy many +pleasures and liberties thought by many in this day, especially by the +descendants of these slaves, not to have been accorded them, were +entirely free of any responsibility aside from the performance of their +alloted labors and speaking from his own experience received kind and +just treatment at the hands of their masters. +</p> +<p> +The will of the master was the law of the plantation and prompt +punishment was administered for any violation of established rules and +though a master was kind, he was of necessity invariably firm in the +administration of his government and in the execution of his laws. +Respect and obedience was steadfastly required and sternly demanded, +while indolence and disrespect was neither tolerated or permitted. +</p> +<p> +In refutation to often repeated expressions and beliefs that slaves were +cruelly treated, provided with insufficient food and apparel and +subjected to inhuman punishment, it is pointed out by ex-slaves +themselves that they were at that time very valuable property, worth on +the market no less than from one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars +each for a healthy, grown Negro and that it is unreasonable to suppose +that these slaveowners did not properly safeguard their investments with +the befitting care and attention such valuable property demanded or that +these masters would by rule or action bring about any condition +adversely effecting the health, efficiency or value of their slaves. +</p> +<p> +The spiritual and religious needs of the slaves received the attention +of the same minister who attended the like needs of the master and his +family, and services were often conducted on Sunday afternoons +exclusively for them at which times the minister exhorted his +congregation to live lives of righteousness and to be at all times +obedient, respectful and dutiful servants in the cause of both their +earthly and heavenly masters. +</p> +<p> +In the days of slavery, on occasion of the marriage of a couple in which +the participants were members of slave-owning families, it was the +custom for the father of each to provide the young couple with several +Negroes, the number of course depending on the relative wealth or +affluence of their respective families. It seems, however, that no less +than six or eight grown slaves were given in most instances as well as a +like number of children from two to four years of age. This provision on +the part of the parents of the newly-wedded pair was for the purpose as +"Uncle Dock" expressed it to give them a "start" of Negroes. The +children were not considered of much value at such an age and the young +master and his wife found themselves possessed with the responsibility +attached to their proper care and rearing until such time as they +reached the age at which they could perform some useful labor. These +responsibilities were bravely accepted and such children received the +best of care and attention, being it is said often kept in a room +provided for than in the master's own house where their needs could be +administered to under the watchful eye and supervision of their owners. +The food given these young children according to informants consisted +mainly of a sort of gruel composed of whole milk and bread made of whole +wheat flour which was set before them in a kind of trough and from which +they ate with great relish and grew rapidly. +</p> +<p> +Slaveowners, as a rule, arranged for their Negroes to have all needed +pleasure and enjoyment, and in the late summer after cultivation of the +crops was complete it was the custom for a number of them to give a +large barbecue for their combined groups of slaves, at which huge +quantities of beef and pork were served and the care-free hours given +over to dancing and general merry-making. "Uncle Dock" recalls that his +master, Dan Wilborn, who was a good-natured man of large stature, +derived much pleasure in playing his "fiddle" and that often in the +early summer evenings he would walk down to the slave quarters with his +violin remarking that he would supply the music and that he wished to +see his "niggers" dance, and dance they would for hours and as much to +the master's own delight and amusement as to theirs. +</p> +<p> +Dock Wilborn's "pappy" Sam was in some respects disobedient, prompted +mainly so it seems by his complete dislike for any form of labor and +which Dan Wilborn due to their mutual affection appeared to tolerate for +long periods or until such time that his patience was exhausted when he +would then apply his lash to Sam a few times and often after these +periodical punishments Sam would escape to the dense forests that +surrounded the plantation where he would remain for days or until +Wilborn would enlist the aid of Nat Turner and his hounds and chase the +Negro to bay and return him to his home. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Dock" Wilborn and his wife "Aunt Becky" are +among the oldest citizens of Phillips County and have been married for +sixty-seven years. Dan Wilborn performed their marriage ceremony. The only +formality required in uniting them as man and wife was that each jump over +a broom that had been placed on the floor between them. This old couple are the +parents of four children, the eldest of whom is now sixty-three. They +live alone in a small white-washed cabin only a mile or so from Marvell +being supported only by a small pension they receive each month from the +Social Security Board. They have a garden and a few chickens and a hog +or two and are happy and content as they dip their snuff and recall +those days long past during which they both contend that life was at its +best, "Aunt Becky" is religious and a staunch believer, a long-time +member of Mount Moriah Baptist Church while "Uncle Dock" +who has never been affiliated with any religious organization is yet as he terms +himself "a sinner man" and laughingly remarks that he is going to ride +into Heaven on "Aunt Becky's" ticket to which comment she promptly +replies that her ticket is good for only one passage and that if he +hopes to get there he must arrange for one of his own. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilksBell"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Bell Wilks, Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was raised in Pulaski, Tennessee, Giles County. The post office was +at one end of the town, bout half mile was the church down at the other +end. Yes'm, that way Pulaski looked when I lived there. My father's +master was Peter or Jerry Garn—I don't know which. They brothers? +Yes'm. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's master was John Wilks and Miss Betty. Mama's name was +Callie Wilks and papa's name was Freeman. Mama had seven children. She +was a field hand. She said all on their place could do nearly anything. +They took turns cooking. Seems like it was a week about they took +milkin', doin' house work, field work, and she said sometimes they +sewed. +</p> +<p> +"Father told my mother one day he was going to the Yankees. She didn't +want him to go much. He went. They mustered out drilling one day. He had +to squat right smart. He saw some cattle in the distance looked like +army way off. He fell dead. They said it was heart disease. They brought +him home and some of dem stood close to him drillin' told her that was +way it happened. +</p> +<p> +"The man what owned my mother was sorter of a Yankee hisself. We all +stayed till he wound up the crop. He sold his place and went to Collyoka +on the L. and N. Railway. He give us two and one-half bushels corn, +three bushels wheat, and some meat at the very first of freedom. When it +played out we went and he give us more long as he stayed there. +</p> +<p> +"When mama left she went to a new sorter mill town and cooked there till +1869. She carried me to a young woman to nurse for her what she nursed +at Mostor Wilks befo freedom. I stayed wid her till 1876. I sure does +remember dem dates. (laughed) +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I was nursin' for Dr. Rothrock when that Ku Klux scare was all +bout. They coma to our house huntin' a boy. They didn't find him. I +cover up my head when they come bout our house. Some folks they scared +nearly to death. I bein' in a strange place don't know much bout what +all I heard they done. +</p> +<p> +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for, let people vote know how. +</p> +<p> +"I get bout $8 and some commodities. It sure do help me out too. I tell +you it sure do." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsBell"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Bell Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85</h3> +<br> +<p> +"We was owned by Master Rucker. It seems I was about ten years old when +the Civil War started. It seems like a dream to me now. Mother was a +weaver. They said she was a fine weaver. She wove for all on the place +and some special pieces of cloth for outsiders. She wove woolen cloth +too. I don't know whether they paid for the extra weaving or not. People +didn't look on money like they do now. They was free with one another +about eating and visiting and work too when a man got behind with the +work. The fields get gone in the grass. Sometimes they would be sick or +it rained too much. The neighbor would send all his slaves to work till +they caught up and never charge a cent. I don't hear about people doing +that way now. +</p> +<p> +"My parents was named Clinton and Billy Bell. There was nine of us +children. +</p> +<p> +"I never seen nobody sold. Mother was darker. Papa was light—half +white. They didn't talk in front of children about things and I never +did know. I've wondered. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom my folks stayed on at Master Rucker's. I got to be a +midwife. I nursed and was a house girl after the war. Then the doctors +got to sending for me to nurse and I got to be a midwife. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a good Bible scholar. He preached all around +Murfreesboro, Tennessee. He was a Methodist. He died when he was +seventy-seven years old. He had read the Bible through seventy-seven +times--one time for every year old he was." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsCharley"></a> +<h3>Mrs. Mildred Thompson<br> +Mrs. Carol Graham<br> +El Dorado District<br> +Federal Writers Project<br> +Union County, Arkansas</h3> +<br> +<p> +<big><b>Charley Williams</b></big>, Ex-slave. Mawnin' Missy. Yo say wha Aint Fanny +Whoolah live? She live right down de road dar in dat fust house. Yas'm. Dat wha +she live. Yo say whut mah name? Mah name is Charley. Yas'm, Charley +Williams. Did ah live in slavery time? Yas'm sho' did. Mah marster wuz +Dr. Reed Williams and he live at Kew London (SE part of Union County) or +ah speck ah bettuh say near New London caise he live on de Mere-Saline +Road, de way de soldiers went and come. Marster died befo' de Civil Wah. +Does ah membah hit? Yas'm ah say ah does. Ah wuz bo'n in 1856. Mah ole +mutha died befo' de wah too. Huh name wuz Charity. Mah young marster +went tuh de wah an come back. He fit at Vicksburg an his name wuz Bennie +Williams. But he daid now tho. Dere was a hep uv dem white William +Chillun. Dere wuz Miss Narcissi an she am a livin now at Stong. Den +dere's Mr. Charley. Ah wuz named fuh him. He am a livin now too. Den +dere is Mr. Race Williams. He am a livin at Strong too. Dere wuz Miss +Annie, Miss Martha Jane and Miss Madie. Dey is all daid. When young +marster would come by home or any uv de udder soldiers us little niggers +would steal de many balls (bullets or shot) fum dey saddul bags and play +wid em. Ah nevah did see so many soldiers in mah life. Hit looked tuh me +like dey wuz enough uv em to reach clear cross de United States. An ah +nevah saw de like uv cows as they had. Dey wuz nuff uv em to rech clar +to Camden. +</p> +<p> +Is ah evah been mahried and does ah have any chillun? Yes'm. Yas'm. Ah's +been mahried three times. Me an mah fust wife had seven chillun. When we +had six chillun me and mah wife moved tuh Kansas. We had only been der +23 days when mah wife birthed a chile and her an de chile both died. Dat +left me wid Carey Dee, Lizzie, Arthur, Richmond, Ollie and Lillie to +bring back home. Ah mahried agin an me an dat wife had one chile name +Robert. Me an mah third wife has three: Joe Verna, Lula Mae an Johnnie +B. +</p> +<p> +Is dey hents? Ah've hearn tell uv em but nevah have seed no hants. One +uv mah friens whut lived on the Hommonds place at Hillsboro could see +em. His name wuz Elliott. One time me an Elliott wuz drivin along an +Elliott said: "Charley, somebody got hole uv mah horse!" Sho nuff dat +horse led right off inter de woods an comminced to buckin so Elliott and +his hoss both saw de haint but ah couldn' see hit. Yo know some people +jes caint see em. +</p> +<p> +Yas'm right up dere is wha Aint Fannie live. Yas'm. Goodday Missy." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>FOLK CUSTOMS</b></p> +<p> +We found Fannie Wheeler at home but not an ex-slave. She was making a +bedspread of tobacco sacks. +</p> +<p> +"Yas'm chillun ah'm piecing mahsef a bedspraid from dese heah backy +sacks. Yas'm dey sho does make er nice spraid. See dat'n on mah baid. +Aint hit purty. Hit wuz made fum backy sacks. Don yo all think dat +yaller bodah (border) set hit off purty? Ah'm aimin to bodah dis'n wid +pink er blue. +</p> +<p> +What am dat up dar in dat picture frame? Why dat am plaits of har +(hair). Hits uv mah kin and frien's. When we would move way off dey +would cut off a plait and give hit tuh us tuh membah dem by. Mos' uv dem +is daid now but ah still membahs dem and ah kin name evah plait now." +</p> +<p> +We were told that Sallie Sims was an old negress and went to see her she +was not an ex-slave either but she told us an interesting little story +about +</p> +<br> +<p><b>HAINTS and BODY MARKS</b></p> +<p> +"No'm, ah'm purty ole but ah wuz bo'n aftuh surrender. Is ah evah seen a +hant? Now ah nevah did but once and mah ma said dat wuz a hant. Ah wuz +out in de woods waukin (walking) an ah saw sumpin dat looked lak a +squirrel start up a tree and de fudder up hit got the bigger hit got an +hit wuz big as a bear when hit got to de top and ma said dat hit was a +haint. Dat is de only time ah evah seed one. +</p> +<p> +Now mah granchillun can all see hants and mah little great gran' chile +too. An evah one uv dem wuz bo'n wid a veil ovah dey face. Now when a +chile is bo'n wid a veil ovah his face—if de veil is lifted up de sho +can see hants and see evah thing but if'n de veil is pulled down stid up +bein lifted up de won't see em. After de veil is pulled down an taken +off, wrap hit up in a tissue paper and put hit in de trunk and let hit +stay dar till hit disappear and de chile won't nevah see hants. Mah +grandaughter what lives up north in Missouri come down heah to visit mah +son's fambly an me ah an brang huh li'l boy wid huh. Dat chile is bout +seben years ole an dat chile could see hants all in de house an he +wouldn' go tuh baid till his gran'pappy come home an went tuh baid wid +him. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Charlie Williams<br> + Brassfield; Ark.<br> +Age: 73</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born four miles from Holly Springs, Mississippi. My parents was +named Patsy and Tom Williams. They had twenty children. Nat Williams and +Miss Carrie Williams owned them both. They had four children. +</p> +<p> +"At freedom he was nice as could be—wanted em to stay on with him and +they did. He didn't whip em. They liked that in him. His wife was dead +and he come out to Arkansas with us. He died at Lonoke—Mr. Tom Williams +at Lonoke. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed nearly all my life. I worked on a steamboat on White River +five or six years—<i>The Ralph</i>. +</p> +<p> +"I never saw a Ku Klux. Mr. Williams kept us well protected. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's mother couldn't talk plain. My mother talked tolerably +plain. She was a 'Molly Glaspy' woman. My father had a loud heavy voice; +you could hear him a long ways off. +</p> +<p> +"I have no home. I am a widower. I have no land. I get a small check and +commodities. +</p> +<p> +"I vote. I haven't voted in a long time. I'm not educated to know how +that would serve us best." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsColumbus"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Columbus Williams<br> + Temporary: 2422 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> + Permanent: Box 12, Route 2, Ouachita County, Stevens, Arkansas<br> +Age: 98</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Union County, Arkansas, in 1841, in Mount Holly. +</p> +<p> +"My mother was named Clora Tookes. My father's name is Jordan Tookes. +Bishop Tookes is supposed to be a distant relative of ours. I don't know +my mother and father's folks. My mother and father were both born in +Georgia. They had eight children. All of them are dead now but me. I am +the only one left. +</p> +<p> +"Old Ben Heard was my master. He come from Mississippi, and brought my +mother and father with him. They were in Mississippi as well as in +Georgia, but they were born in Georgia. Ben Heard was a right mean man. +They was all mean 'long about then. Heard whipped his slaves a lot. +Sometimes he would say they wouldn't obey. Sometimes he would say they +sassed him. Sometimes he would say they wouldn't work. He would tie them +and stake them out and whip them with a leather whip of some kind. He +would put five hundred licks on them before he would quit. He would buy +the whip he whipped them with out of the store. After he whipped them, +they would put their rags on and go on about their business. There +wouldn't be no such thing as medical attention. What did he care. He +would whip the women the same as he would the men. +</p> +<p> +"Strip 'em to their waist and let their rags hang down from their hips +and tie them down and lash them till the blood ran all down over their +clothes. Yes sir, he'd whip the women the same as he would the men. +</p> +<p> +"Some of the slaves ran away, but they would catch them and bring them +back, you know. Put the dogs after them. The dogs would just run them up +and bay them just like a coon or 'possum. Sometimes the white people +would make the dogs bite them. You see, when the dogs would run up on +them, they would sometimes fight them, till the white people got there +and then the white folks would make the dogs bite them and make them +quit fighting the dogs. +</p> +<p> +"One man run off and stayed twelve months once. He come back then, and +they didn't do nothin' to him. 'Fraid he'd run off again, I guess. +</p> +<p> +"We didn't have no church nor nothing. No Sunday-schools, no nothin'. +Worked from Monday morning till Saturday night. On Sunday we didn't do +nothin' but set right down there on that big plantation. Couldn't go +nowhere. Wouldn't let us go nowhere without a pass. They had the +paterollers out all the time. If they caught you out without a pass, +they would give you twenty-five licks. If you outrun them and got home, +on your master's plantation, you saved yourself the whipping. +</p> +<p> +"The black people never had no amusement. They would have an old +fiddle—something like that. That was all the music I ever seen. +Sometimes they would ring up and play 'round in the yard. I don't +remember the games. Sing some kind of old reel song. I don't hardly +remember the words of any of them songs. +</p> +<p> +"Wouldn't allow none of them to have no books nor read nor nothin'. +Nothin' like that. They had corn huskin's in Mississippi and Georgia, +but not in Arkansas. Didn't have no quiltin's. Women might quilt some at +night. Didn't have nothin' to make no quilts out of. +</p> +<p> +"The very first work I did was to nurse babies. After that when I got a +little bigger they carried me to the field—choppin' cotton. Then I went +to picking cotton. Next thing—pullin' fodder. Then they took me from +that and put me to plowin', clearin' land, splittin' rails. I believe +that is about all I did. You worked from the time you could see till the +time you couldn't see. You worked from before sunrise till after dark. +When that horn blows, you better git out of that house, 'cause the +overseer is comin' down the line, and he ain't comin' with nothin' in +his hand. +</p> +<p> +"They weighed the rations out to the slaves. They would give you so many +pounds of meat to each working person in the family. The children didn't +count; they didn't git none. That would have to last till next Sunday. +They would give them three pounds of meat to each workin' person, I +think. They would give 'em a little meal too. That is all they'd give +'em. The slaves had to cook for theirselves after they come home from +the field. They didn't get no flour nor no sugar nor no coffee, nothin' +like that. +</p> +<p> +"They would give the babies a little milk and corn bread or a little +molasses and bread when they didn't have the milk. Some old person who +didn't have to go to the field would give them somethin' to eat so that +they would be out of the way when the folks come out of the field. +</p> +<p> +"The slaves lived in old log houses—one room, one door, <i>one window</i>, +one everything. There were <i>plenty windows</i> though. There were windows +all [HW: ?] around the house. They had cracks that let in more air than +the windows would. They had plank floors. Didn't have no furniture. The +bed would have two legs and would have a hole bored in the side of the +house where the side rail would run through and the two legs would be +out from the wall. Didn't have no springs and they made out with +anything they could git for a mattress. Master wouldn't furnish them +nothin' of that kind. +</p> +<p> +"The jayhawkers were white folks. They didn't bother we all much. That +was after the surrender. They go 'round here and there and git after +white folks what they thought had some money and jerk them 'round. They +were jus' common men and soldiers. +</p> +<p> +"I was not in the army in the War. I was right down here in Union County +then. I don't know just when they freed me but it was after the War was +over. The old white man call us up to the house and told us now we was +free as he was; that if we wanted to stay with him it was all right, if +we didn't and wanted to go away anywheres, we could have the privilege +to do it. +</p> +<p> +"Marriage wasn't like now. You would court a woman and jus' go on and +marry. No license, no nothing. Sometimes you would take up with a woman +and go on with her. Didn't have no ceremony at all. I have heard of them +stepping over a broom but I never saw it. Far as I saw there was no +ceremony at all. +</p> +<p> +"When the slaves were freed they expected to get forty acres and a mule. +I never did hear of anybody gettin' it. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the War, I worked on a farm with Ben Heard. I stayed with +him about three years, then I moved off with some other white folks. I +worked on shares. First I worked for half and he furnished a team. Then +I worked on third and fourth and furnished my own team. I gave the owner +a third of the corn and a fourth of the cotton and kept the rest. I kept +that up several years. They cheated us out of our part. If they +furnished anything, they would sure git it back. Had everything so high +you know. I have farmed all my life. Farmed till I got so old I +couldn't. I never did own my own farm. I just continued to rent. +</p> +<p> +"I never had any trouble about voting. I voted whenever I wanted to. I +reckon it was about three years after the War when I began to vote. +</p> +<p> +"I never went to school. One of the white boys slipped and learned me a +little about readin' in slave time. Right after freedom come, I was a +grown man; so I had to work. I married about four or five years after +the War. I was just married once. My wife is not living now. She's gone. +She's been dead for about twelve years. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to the A.M.E. Church and my membership is in the New Home +Church out in the country in Ouachita County." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsFrank"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Frank Williams<br> + County Hospital, ward eleven, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 100, or more</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'm a hundred years old. I know I'm a hundred. I know from where they +told me. I don't know when I was born. +</p> +<p> +"I been took down and whipped many a time because I didn't do my work +good. They took my pants down and whipped me just the same as if I'd +been a dog. Sometimes they would whip the people from Saturday night +till Monday morning. +</p> +<p> +"I run off with the Yankees. I was young then. I was in the Civil War. I +don't know how long I stayed in the army. I ain't never been back home +since. I wish I was. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back home. +</p> +<p> +"Mississippi was my home. I come up here with the Yankees and I ain't +never been back since. Laconia, Mississippi was the place I used to be +down there. I been wanting to go home, but I couldn't git off. I want to +git you to write there for me. I belong to the Baptist church. Write to +the elders of the church. I belong to the Mission Baptist Church on the +other side of Rock Creek here. +</p> +<p> +"They just lived in log houses in slave time. +</p> +<p> +"I want to go back home. They made me leave Laconia. +</p> +<p> +"Pateroles!! Oh, my God!!! I know 'nough 'bout them. Child, I've heard +'em holler, 'Run, nigger, run! The pateroles will catch you.' +</p> +<p> +"The jayhawkers would catch people and whip them. +</p> +<p> +"I would be back home yet if they hadn't made me come away. +</p> +<p> +"They didn't have no church in slavery time. They jus' had to hide +around and worship God any way they could. +</p> +<p> +"I used to live in Laconia. I ain't been back there since the war. I +want to go back to my folks." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Frank Williams is like a man suffering from amnesia. He is the first old +man that I have interviewed whose memory is so far gone. He remembers +practically nothing. He can't tell you where he was born. He can't tell +you where he lived before he came to Little Rock. Only when his +associates mention some of the things he formerly told them can he +remember that little of his past that he does state in any remote +approach to detail. +</p> +<p> +There is a strong emotional set which relates to his slave time +experiences. The emotion surges up in his mind at any mention of slave +time matters. But only the emotion remains. The details are gone +forever. Names, times, places, happenings are gone forever. He does not +even recall the name of his father, the name of his mother, or the name +of any of his relatives or masters, or old-time friends. No single +definite thing rises above the horizon of his mind and defines itself +clearly to him. +</p> +<p> +And always after every sentence he utters, there rises the old refrain: +"I want to go back home. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back +home. I live in Laconia. They made me come away." And that is the +substance of the story he remembers. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsGus"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Gus Williams, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Was you lookin' for me t'oder day? Sure, my name's Williams—Gus +Williams—not Wilson. Dey gits me mixed up wid dat young guy, Wilson. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I remembers you—sure—talks to yo' brother sometimes. +</p> +<p> +"I was born in Chatham County, Georgia—Savannah is de county seat. My +marster's name was Jim Williams. Never seen my daddy cause de Yankees +carried him away durin' de War, took him away to de North. Old marster +was good to his slaves, I was told, but don't ricollect anything about +em. Of course I was too young. Was born on Christmas day, 1857—but I +don't see anything specially interestin' in bein' a Christmas present; +never got me nothin', and never will. +</p> +<p> +"Was workin' on WPA—this big Tech. buildin'—but got laid off t'other +day. +</p> +<p> +"My mamma brought us to Arkansas in 1885, but we stopped and lived for +several years in Tennessee. Worked for twelve years out of Memphis on +the old Anchor Line steamboats on de Mississippi, runnin' from St. Louis +to N'Orleans. Plenty work in dem days. +</p> +<p> +"No, I ain't voted in a long time; can't afford to vote because I never +have the dollar. No dollar—no vote. Depression done fixed my votin'. +</p> +<p> +"Jest me and my wife, but it takes pluggin' away to get along. We +belongs to the C.M.E. Church since 1915. I was janitor at the West Ward +School for seven years, and sure liked dat job. +</p> +<p> +"Don't ask me anything about dese boys and gals livin' today. Much +difference in dem and de young folks livin' in my time as between me and +you. No dependence to be put in em. My <i>estimony</i> is dat de black +servants today workin' for de whites learns things from dem white girls +dat dey never knowed before, and den goes home and does things dey never +done before. +</p> +<p> +"Don't ricollect many of de old-time songs, but one was somep'n +like—"Am I Born to Die?" And—oh, yes,—lots of times we sung 'Amazin' +Grace, how sweet de soun' dat saves a <i>race</i> like me.' +</p> +<p> +"No suh, I ain't got no education—never had a chance to git one." +</p> +<br> +<p> +<b>NOTE:</b> The underscored words are actual quotations. "Estimony" for +"opinion" was a characteristic in Gus' vocabulary; "race" for the +original "wretch" in the song may have been a general error in some +local congregations. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsHenrietta"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson<br> +Person interviewed: Henrietta Williams<br> + B. Avenue, El Dorado, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I am about 82 years old. I was born in Georgia down in the cotton +patch. I did not know much about slavery, for I was raised in the white +folks' house, and my old mistress called me her little nigger, and she +didn't allow me to be whipped and drove around. I remember my old master +whipped me one time and old mistress fussed with him so much he never +did whip me any more. +</p> +<p> +"I never had to get out and do any real hard work until I was nearly +grown. My mother did not have but one child. My father was sold from my +mother when I was about two years old and he was carried to Texas and I +did not see him any more until I was 35 years old. So my mother married +again when she was set free. I didn't stay with my mother very much. She +stayed off in a little log house with a dirt floor, and she cooked on +the fireplace with a skillet and lid, and the house had one window with +a shutter. She had to cut logs and roll them like a man and split rails +and plow. I would sometimes ask old mistress to let me go out where my +mother was working to see her plow and when I got to be a big girl about +nine years she began learning me how to plow. +</p> +<p> +"I often told the niggers the white folks raised me. The niggers tell +me, 'Yes, the white folks raise you but the niggers is going to kill +you.' +</p> +<p> +"After freedom my mistress and master moved to Louisiana. They farmed. +They owned a big plantation. I did the housework. +</p> +<p> +"The biggest snow I remember was the big centennial snow. Oh, that's +been years ago. The snow was so deep you couldn't get out of the house. +The boys had to take the shovel and the hoe and keep the snow raked away +from around the door. +</p> +<p> +"There was a big old oak tree that stood in the corner of the yard. +People say that tree was a hundred years old. We could not get no wood, +so master had the boys to cut the big old oak tree for wood. +</p> +<p> +"Rabbits had a scant time. The boys would go out and track six or eight +rabbits at a time. We had rabbits of all descriptions. We had rabbits +for breakfast, rabbits for dinner, rabbits for supper time. We had fried +rabbits, baked rabbits, stewed rabbits, boiled rabbits. Had rabbits, +rabbits, rabbits the whole six or eight weeks the snow stayed on the +ground. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when I was about twelve years old a woman had two small +children. She went away from home and for fear that the children would +get hurt on the outside she put them in the house and locked the door. +In some way they got a match and struck it and the house caught fire. +All the neighbors were a long ways off and by the time they reched the +house it had fallen in. Finally the mother came and looked for her +children and asked the neighbors did they save them. They said no, they +did not know they were in the house. In fact they were too late anyway. +So the fire was still hot and they had to wait for the ashes to cool and +when the ashes got cool they went looking for the children and found the +burned buttons that were on their little clothes, so they began raking +around in the ashes and at last found each of their little hearts that +had not burned, but the little hearts were still jumping and the man who +found the hearts picked them up in his hand and stood speechless. He +became so nervous he could not move. Their little hearts just quivered. +They let their hearts lay out for a couple of days and when they buried +their hearts they was still jumpin'. That was a sad time. From that day +to this day I never lock no one up in the house." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsHenryAndrew"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Andrew (Tip) Williams<br> + Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born in 1854, 86</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born three and one-half miles from Jackson, North Carolina. I was +born a slave. I was put to work at six years old. They started me to +cleaning off new ground. I thinned corn on my knees with my hands. We +planted six or seven acres of cotton and got four or five cents a pound. +Balance we planted was something to live on. My master was Jason and +Betsy Williams. He had a small plantation; the smaller the plantation +the better they was to their slaves. +</p> +<p> +"Jim Johnson's farm joined. He had nine hundred ninety-nine niggers. It +was funny but every time a nigger was born one died. When he bought one +another one would die. He was noted as having nine hundred ninety-nine +niggers. It happened that way. He was rough on his place. He had a jail +on his place. It was wood but close built. Couldn't get out of there. +Put them in there and lock them up with a big padlock. He kept a male +hog in the jail to tramp and walk over them. They said they kept them +tied down in that place. Five hundred lashes and shot 'em up in jail was +light punishment. They said it was light brushing. I lived up in the +Piney Woods. It was big rich bottom plantations from Weldon Bridge to +Halifax down on the river. They was rough on 'em, killed some. No, I +never seen Jim Johnson to know him. He lived at Edenton, North Carolina. +I recollect mighty well the day he died we had a big storm, blowed down +big trees. That jail was standing when I come to Arkansas forty-seven +years ago. It was a 'Bill brew' (stocks) they put men in when they put +them in jail. Turned male hog in there for a blind. +</p> +<p> +"Part of Jim Johnson's overseers was black and part white. Hatterway was +white and Nat was black. They was the head overseers and both bad men. I +could hear them crying way to our place early in the morning and at +night. +</p> +<p> +"Lansing Kahart owned grandma when I was a little boy. +</p> +<p> +"They took hands in droves one hundred fifty miles to Richmond to sell +them. Richmond and New Orleans was the two big selling blocks. My uncle +was sold at Richmond and when I come to Arkansas he was living at +Helena. I never did get to see him but I seen his two boys. They live +down there now. I don't know how my uncle got to Helena but he was +turned loose down in this country at 'mancipation. They told me that. +</p> +<p> +"When a man wanted a woman he went and axed the master for her and took +her on. That is about all there was to it. No use to want one of the +women on Jim Johnson's, Debrose, Tillery farms. They kept them on their +own and didn't want visitors. They was big farms. Kershy had a big farm. +</p> +<p> +"The Yankees never went to my master's house a time. The black folks +knowd the Yankees was after freedom. They had a song no niggers ever +made up, 'I wanter be free.' +</p> +<p> +"My master was too old to go to war but Bill went. I think it was better +times in slavery than now but I'm not in favor of bringing it back on +account of the cruelty and dividing up families. My master was good to +us. He was proud of us. We fared fine. He had a five or six horse farm. +His land wasn't strong but we worked and had plenty. Mother cooked for +white and colored. We had what they et 'cepting when company come. When +they left we got scraps. Then when Christmas come we had cakes and pies +stacked up setting about for us to cut. They cut down through a whole +stack of pies. Cut them in halves and pass them among us. We got hunks +of cake a piece. We had plain eating er plenty all the time. You see I'm +a big man. I wasn't starved out till I was about grown, after the War +was over. Times really was hard. Hard, hard times come on us all. +</p> +<p> +"Mama got one whooping in her life. I seen that. Jason Williams whipped +only two grown folks in my life, mama and my brother. Mama sassed her +mistress or that what they called it then. Since then I've heard worse +jawing not called sassing, call it arguing now. Sassing was a bad trait +in them days. Brother was whooped in the field. He was seven years older +than me. I didn't see none of that. They talked a right smart about it. +</p> +<p> +"The Williams was good to us all. Master's wife heired two women and a +girl. Mama cooked, ironed, and worked in the field in time of a push +(when necessary). +</p> +<p> +"I was hauling for the Rebel soldiers one rainy evening. It was dark and +lightning every now and then. General Ransom was at the hotel porch when +Sherman turned the bend one mile to come in the town. It was about four +o'clock in the evening I judge. General Ransom's company was washing at +Boom's Mill three miles. About one thousand men was out there cooking +and in washing, resting. General Ransom went hollering, 'Yankees!' Went +to his men. They got away I reckon. Sherman killed sixty men in that +town I know. General Ransom went on his horse hollering, 'Yankees +coming!' He went to his home eight miles from there. They went on +through rough as could be. +</p> +<p> +"I hauled when it was so dark the team had to take me in home at night. +My circuit was ten miles a day. +</p> +<p> +"My young master Bill Williams come in April soon as he got home and +told us we was free but didn't have to leave. We stayed on and worked. +He said he had nothing but the land and we had nothing. At the end of +the year he paid off in corn and a little money. Us boys left then and +mother followed us about. We ain't done no better since then. We didn't +go far off. +</p> +<p> +"Forty-seven years ago I went to Weldon, North Carolina in a wagon, took +the train to Gettysburg and from there come to Biscoe, Arkansas. I been +about here ever since. Mr. Biscoe paid our way. We worked three years to +pay him back. I cleared good money since I cone out here. I had cattle I +owned and three head of horses all my own. Age crept up on me. I can't +work to do much good now. I gets six dollars—Welfare money. +</p> +<p> +"Times is a puzzle to me. I don't know what to think. Things is got all +wrong some way but I don't know whether it will get straightened out or +not. Folks is making the times. It's the folks cause of all this good or +bad. People not as good as they was forty years ago. They getting +greedy." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: James Williams, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I come from close to Montgomery, Alabama. Man named John G. Elliott +sent and got a number famlees to work his land. He was the richest man +in them parts round Fryers Point, Mississippi. I was born after the +Civil War. They used to say we what was raisin' up havin' so much easier +time an what they had in slavery times. That all old folks could talk +about. Said the onlies time the slaves had to comb their hair was on +Sunday. They would comb and roll each others hair and the men cut each +others hair. That all the time they got. They would roll the childerns +hair or keep it cut short one. Saturday mornin' was the time the men had +to curry and trim up the horses and mules. Clean out the lot and stalls. +The women would sweep and scour the floors for Sunday. +</p> +<p> +"I haven't voted for a long time. It used to be some fun votin'. Din in +Mississippi the whites vote one way and us the other. My father was a +Republican. I was too. +</p> +<p> +"I have cataracts growing on my eyes. That hinders my work now. I got a +little garden. It help out. I ain't got no propety no kind. +</p> +<p> +"The young folks seem happy. I guess they gettin' long fine. Some folks +jes' lucky bout gettin' ahead and stayin' ahead. I can't tell no moren +nothin' how times goiner serve this next generation they changein' all +time seems lack. If the white folks don't know what goiner become of the +next generation, they need not be asking a fellow lack me. I wish I did +know. +</p> +<p> +"I ain't been on the PWA. I don't git no help ceptin' when I can work a +little for myself." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsJohn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: John Williams<br> + County Hospital, ward 11, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 75</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in 1863 in Texas right in the city of Dallas right in the +heart of the town. After the War our owners brought us back to Little +Rock. That is where they left from. They left here on account of the +War. They run off their slaves to keep the Yankees from freeing them. +All the old masters were dead. But the young ones were Louis Fletcher, +John Fletcher, Dick Fletcher, Jeff Fletcher, and Len Fletcher. Five +brothers of them. Their home was here in Little Rock. The War was going +on. It went on four years and prior to the end of it I was born. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's name was Mary Williams. My father's name was John Williams. +I was named after him. +</p> +<p> +"It is funny how they changed their names. Now, his name was John Scott +before he went into the army. But after he went in, they changed his +name into John Williams. +</p> +<p> +"His master's name was Scott but I don't know the other part of it. All +five of the brothers was named for their mother's masters. She raised +them. She always called all of them master. 'Cordin' to what I hear from +the old folks, when one of them come 'round, you better call him master. +</p> +<p> +"In slave time, my father was a field hand, I know that. But I know more +about my mother. I heard her say she was always a cook. +</p> +<p> +"I heard her speak about having cruel treatment from her first masters; +I don't know who they were. But after the Fletchers bought them, they +had a good time. They come all the way out of Louisiana up here. My +mother was sold from her mother and sister-sold some two or three times. +She never did get no trace of her sister, but she found her grandmother +in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and brought her here. Her sister's name was +Fannie and her grandmother's name was Crecie Lander. That is an Indian +name. I couldn't understand nothing she would say hardly. She was +bright. All my folks were bright but me. My mother had hair way down her +shoulders and you couldn't tell my uncle from a dago. My grandmother was +a regular Indian color. She spoke Indian too. You couldn't understand +nothing she said. +</p> +<p> +"When I woke up, they had these homemade beds. I couldn't hardly +describe them, but they put the sides into the posts with legs. They +were stout things too what I am talkin' 'bout. They made cribs for us +little children and put them under the bed. They would pull the cribs +out at night and run them under the bed during the day. They called them +cribs trundles. They called them trundles because they run them under +the bed. For chairs and tables accordin' to what I heard my mother say, +she was cook and they had everything in the big house and et pretty much +what the white folks et. But we just had boxes in the cabins. +</p> +<p> +"Them that was in the white folks' house had pretty good meals, but them +that was in the field they would feed just about like they would the +hogs. They had little wooden trays and they would put little fat meat +and pot-liquor and corn bread in the tray, and hominy and such as that. +Biscuits came just on Sunday. +</p> +<p> +"They had old ladies to cook for the slave children and old ladies to +cook for the hands. What was in the big house stayed in the big house. +All the slave men ate in one place and all the slave women ate in one +place. They weren't supposed to have any food in their homes unless they +would go out foraging. Sometimes they would get it that way. They'd go +out and steal ol' master's sweet potatoes and roast them in the fire. +They'd go out and steal a hog and kill it. All of it was theirn; they +raised it. They wasn't to say stealin' it; they just went out and got +it. If old master caught them, he'd give 'em a little brushin' if he +thought they wouldn't run off. Lots of times they would run off, and if +he thought they'd run off because they got a whippin', he was kinda slow +to catch 'em. If one run off, he'd tell the res', 'If you see so and so, +tell 'im to come on back. I ain't goin' to whip 'im.' If he couldn't do +nothin' with 'em, he'd sell 'em. I guess he would say to hisself, 'I +can't do nothin' with this nigger. If I can't do nothing with 'im, I'll +sell him and git my money outa him.' +</p> +<p> +"I have heard my mother say that some of the slaves that ran away would +get destroyed by the wild animals and some of them would even be glad to +come back home. Right smart of them got clean away and went to free +states. +</p> +<p> +"After the War was over, they all was brought back here and the owners +let them know they was free. They had to let them know they were free. I +never heard my mother tell the details. I never heard her say just who +brought her word or how it was told to her when they was freed. +</p> +<p> +"I never heard her say much about the church because she was a sinner. +After they was freed, I would go many a night and set down in a corner +where they was having a big dance. +</p> +<p> +"The pateroles and jayhawkers were bad. Many of them got hurt too. They +tried to hurt the niggers and sometimes the niggers hurt them. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the War, my folks farmed for a living. They farmed on +shares. They didn't have nothing of their own. They never did get +nothing out of their work. I know they didn't get a thing. They farmed +at first about seven miles out from Little Rock, below Fourche Dam on +the Fletcher place. There ain't but one of the Fletchers living now, and +that is Molly Daniels. She is old Louis Fletcher's daughter. All their +brothers is dead. She's owning all the land now we used to till. It's +over a thousand acres. She [HW: mother] stayed down there for about +twenty or thirty years. Then she moved here to town. Here she cooked for +white folks. My mother died about forty years ago—forty-two or three +years; she's been dead sometime. My wife has been dead now for twelve +years. +</p> +<p> +"I didn't get but a little schooling, for my father used to send me +after the mules. One day the wheelbarrow had a load of bricks on it. It +was upset. They had histed the bricks up on a high platform. It turned +over as I was passing underneath, and one fell on me and struck my head. +It was a long time after that before they would let me go to school +again. After that I never got used to studying any more. +</p> +<p> +"My first teacher was Lottie Andrews (Charlotte Stephens). I had some +more teachers too. Lemme see—Professor Fish was a white man. We had +colored teachers under him. Then we had R.B. White. He was Reuben +White's brother. R.B. White's wife was a teacher. Professor Fish was the +superintendent. There ain't no truth to the tale that Reuben White was +put in a coffin before he was dead. Reuben White built the First Baptist +Church here and Milton White built a big church in Helena. They were +brothers. Them was two sharp darkies. +</p> +<p> +"When I first started working, I drove teams. I raised crops a while and +farmed. Then I left the country and come to town and got up to be a +quarry man for years. Then I quit that and went to driving teams for the +Merchant Transfer Company for years. Then I quit that and run on the +road—the Mountain—for four years. Then I taken a coal chute on the +Rock Island and run it for four years. Then I quit and went to working +as an all-'round man in the shop. I stayed with them about nine years. +Then I taken down in the shape that I am now. +</p> +<p> +"I have been out here to this hospital for twenty-four years going on +twenty-five. Been down so that I couldn't hit a lick of work for +twenty-five years. I have been in this building for eleven years. I get +along tolerable fair. As the old man says, we can just live. +</p> +<p> +"I think the young people are going wild and if something isn't done to +head them off pretty soon, they'll go too far. They ain't looking at +what's going on up the road; they just call theirselves having a good +time. They ain't looking to have nothing. They ain't looking to be +nothing. They ain't looking to get nothing for the future. Don't know +what they would do if they had to work part of the time for nothing like +we did. I see men working now for ten dollars a month. I could take a +fishing line and go fishing and beat that when I was young. Times is +getting back almost as hard as they used to be. +</p> +<p> +"I am a Christian. I belong to Shiloh Baptist Church in North Little +Rock. I helped build that church. Brother Hawkins was the pastor." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsLillie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Lillie Williams, Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 69</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born some place down in Mississippi. My papa's papa come from +Georgia. He had a tar kiln; he cut splinters put them on it. It would +smoke blackest smoke and drip for a week. He used it to grease the hubs +of the wagons. We drunk pine tar tea for coughs. He split rails, made +boards and shingles all winter. He had a draw-knife, a mall and wedges +to use in his work. He learned that where he come from in Georgia. He +sold boards, pailings when I can recollects. Grandma made tallow candles +for everybody on our place in the fall when they killed the first +yearling. They cooked up beeswax when they robbed bees. When I was a +child I picked up pine knots for torches to quilt and knit by. We raised +everything we lived on. I pulled sage grass to cure for brooms. Grandpa +planted some broom corn and we swept the yards and lots with brooms made +out of brush. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma kept a barrel to make locust and persimmon beer in. We dried +apples and peaches all summer and put chinaberry seed 'mongst them to +keep out worms. +</p> +<p> +"If we rode to church, it was in a steer wagon (ox wagon). Our oxen +named Buck, Brandy Barley. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma raised me, two more girls, and a boy. Mama worked out. Our pa +died. Mama worked 'mongst the white folks. Grandma was old-timey. She +made our dresses to pick cotton in every summer. They was hot and +stubby. They looked pretty. We was proud of them. Mama washed and +ironed. She kept us clean, too. Grandma made us card and spin. I never +could learn to spin but I was a good knitter. I could reel. I did love +to hear it crack. That was a cut. We had a winding blade. We would fill +the quills for our grandma to weave. Grandma was mighty quiet and +particular. She come from Kenturkey. We all ploughed. I've ploughed and +ploughed. +</p> +<p> +"I had three little children to raise and now I have nine grandchildren. +I got five here now to look after when their mother is out at work. I +have worked. We farmed in 1923 up till 1931 and got this house paid out. +(Fairly good square-boxed, unpainted house—ed.) +</p> +<p> +"My mother-in-law was sold in Aberdeen, Mississippi on a tall stump. She +clem up a ladder. Her ma was at the sale and said she was awful uneasy. +But she was sold to folks close by. She could go to see her. +</p> +<p> +"Freedom come on. The colored folks slip about from place to place and +whisper, 'We goiner be set free.' I think my mama left at freedom and +come to twenty or twenty-two miles from Oxford, Mississippi. I don't +know where I was born. But in Mississippi somewheres. +</p> +<p> +"There is something wrong about the way we are doing somehow. It is from +hand to mouth. We buys too many paper sacks. They say work is hard to +get. One thing now didn't used to be, you have to show the money before +you can buy a thing. Seem like we all gone money crazy. Automobiles and +silk stockings done ruined us all. White folks ought to straighten this +out." +</p> + +<p> +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Williams, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1872<br> +Light color</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My father was a slavery man two and one-half miles from Somerville, +Tennessee. Colonel Rivers owned him. Argile Rivers was papa's name. +</p> +<p> +"He went to war. His job was hauling food to the soldiers. He lay out in +the woods getting to his soldiers with provisions. He'd run hide under +the feed wagon from the shot. Him and old master would be together +sometimes. His master died, or was hurt and died after the War a long +while. +</p> +<p> +"He said his master was good to him all time. They had to work hard. He +raised one boy and me." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary2"></a> +[HW: Ex-slave] +<h3>Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave—Herbs "Hant" experiences<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Mary Williams<br> +Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Field Worker<br> +Age: 69</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +Mary Williams mother's name was Mariah and before she married her master +forced her to go wrong and she had a son by him. They all called him Jim +Rob. He was a mulatta. Then Mariah married Williams on General Garretts +farm. The Rob Roy farm and the Garrett farm joined. Mary was born at Rob +Roy, Arkansas near Humphrey. Mary said the master married her mother and +father after her mother was stood up on a stump and auctioned off. Her +mother was a house girl. Soon there were rumors of freedom but their +family lived on where they were. Her father said when he was a boy he +attended the draw bars and met the old master to get a ride up behind +him. +</p> +<p> +Once when her father was real small he was eating biscuit with a hole in +it made by a grown person sticking finger down in it, then fill the hole +with molasses. That was a rarity they had just cooked molasses. He was +sitting in front of the fire place. Big White Bobby stuck his nose and +mouth to take a bite of his bread. He picked the cat up and threw it in +the fire. The cat ran out, smutty, just flying. The old mistress came in +there and got after him about throwing the cat in the fire. +</p> +<p> +One time when my father was going to see my mother. Before they got +married, across the field. He had a bag of potatoes. He felt something, +felt like some one had caught his bag and was pulling him back. He was +much off a man and thought he could whip nearly every body around but he +was too scared to run and couldn't hardly get away. +</p> +<p> +Mary's mother, Mariah two children had been gone off. They were coming +in on the boat some time in the night. The master sent two of the big +boys down to build a fire and wait at the landing till they came. They +went in the wagon. There was an old empty house up on the hill. So they +went up there and built a fire and put their quilts down for pallets by +the fire place. They heard hants outside, they peeped out the log +cracks. They saw something white out there all the doors were buttoned +and propped. When the boat came it blew and blew. The master wondered +what in the world was the matter down there. The captian said he hated +to put them out and nobody to meet them. It was after midnight. So some +of the boat crew built them a fire and next morning when they got up on +the hill they noticed somebody asleep as they peeped through the cracks +and called them. Saw their wagon and knew it too. They said they was +afraid of them hants around the house, too afraid to go down to the boat +landing if they did hear the boat. Hants can't be seen in daytime only +by people "what born with veils over their faces." +</p> +<p> +Her father was going to mill to have corn ground. It was before day +light. He was driving an ox wagon. +</p> +<p> +In front of him he saw a sweet maple limb moving up and down over the +road in front of him. He went on and the ox butted and kicked at it and +it followed them nearly to the mill. It sounded like somebody crying. It +turned and went back still crying. Her father said there were hants up +in the tree and cut the limb off and followed him carrying it between +themselves so he couldn't see what they looked like. +</p> +<pre> +It is a sign of death for a hoot owl to come hollow in your yard. +</pre> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary3"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Williams<br> + 409 North Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Yes mam, I sure would be glad to talk to you 'bout slavery times. I can +sure tell about it—I certainly can, lady. +</p> +<p> +"I am so proud 'bout my white folks 'cause they learned me how to work +and tell the truth. I had a good master and mistress. Yes'm, I sure did. +</p> +<p> +"I was borned in middle Georgia and I just love the name of Georgia. I +was the second born of 'leven children and they is all dead 'cept +me—I'm the only one left to tell the tale. +</p> +<p> +"When the ginnin' started I was always glad 'cause I could ride the +crank they had the mules hitched to. And then after the cotton was +ginned they took it to the press and you could hear that screw go +z-m-m-m and dreckly that 'block and tickle' come down. Yes mam, I sure +did have good times. +</p> +<p> +"You ain't never seen a spinnin' wheel has you? Well, I used to card and +spin. I never did weave but I hope dye the hanks. They weaved it into +cloth and called it muslin. +</p> +<p> +"I can 'member all I want to 'bout the war. I 'member when the Yankees +come through Georgia. I walked out in the yard with 'em and my white +people just as scared of 'em as they could be. I heered the horses feet, +then the drums, and then 'bout twenty-five or thirty bugles. I was so +amazed when the Yankees come. I heered their songs but I couldn't +'member 'em. +</p> +<p> +"One thing I 'member jest as well as if 'twas this mornin'. That was the +day young master Henry Lee went off to war. Elisha Pearman hired him to +go and told him that when the war ceasted he would give him two or three +darkies and let him marry his daughter. Young master Henry (he was just +eighteen) he say he goin' to take old Lincoln the first thing and swing +him to a limb and let him play around awhile and then shoot his head +off. But I 'member the morning old mistress got a letter that told how +young master Henry was in a pit with the soldiers and they begged him +not to stick his head up but he did anyway and they shot it off. Old +mistress jest cry so. +</p> +<p> +"One thing I know, the Yankees took a lot of things. I 'member they took +Mrs. Fuller to the well and said they goin' hang her by the thumbs—but +they just done it for mischievous you know. They didn't take nothin' +from my white people 'cept some chickens and a hog, and cut down the +hams. They put the old rooster in the sack and he went to squawkin' so +they took him out and wrung his neck. +</p> +<p> +"My white people used to carry me with 'em anywhere they go. That's how +come I learn so much. I sure did learn a heap when I was small. I +'member the first time my old mistress and my young mistress carried me +to church. When the preacher got through preachin' (he was a big fine +lookin' man with white gray hair) he come down from the pulpit and say +'Come to me, you sinners, poor and needy.' And he told what Jesus said +to Nicodemus how he must be born again. I wanted to go to the mourners' +bench so bad, but old mistress wouldn't let me. When I got home I told +my mother to borned me again. You see I was jest little and didn't know +no better. +</p> +<p> +"I never seen no Ku Klux but I could have. They never bothered us but +they whipped the shirttails off some of 'em. Some darkies is the meanest +things God ever put breath in. +</p> +<p> +"Most generally the white folks was good to their darkies. My young +master used to sneak out his Blue Back Speller and learned my father how +to read, and after the war he taught school. He started me off and then +a teacher from the North come down and taught us. +</p> +<p> +"I've done pitty near every kind a work there is to do. There is some +few white people here can identify me. I most always work for +'ristocratic people. It seems that was just my luck. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think nothin' of this here younger generation. They ain't +nothin' to 'em. They say to me 'Why don't you have your hair +straightened' but I say 'I've got along this far without painted jaws +and straight hair.' And I ain't goin' wear my dresses up to my knees or +trail 'em in the mud, either. +</p> +<p> +"I been married four times and every one of 'em is dead and buried. My +las' husband was in the Spanish-American War and now I gets a pension. +Yes'm it sure does help. +</p> +<p> +"I only had two children is all I is had. They is both dead and when God +took my last one, I thought he wasn't jest but I see now God knows +what's best cause if I had my grandchildren now I'd sure beat 'em. I'd +love 'em, but I sure wouldn't let 'em run around. +</p> +<p> +"The biggest part of these niggers puts their mistakes on the white +folks. It's easier to do right than wrong cause right whips wrong every +time into a frazzle. +</p> +<p> +"I don't read much now since my eyes ain't so good but tell me whatever +become of Teddy Roosevelt? +</p> +<p> +"I'm sorry I can't offer you no dinner but I'm just cookin' myself some +peas. +</p> +<p> +"Well, lady, I sure am glad you come. I jest knew the Lord was goin' +send somebody for me to talk to. I loves to talk so well. Good bye and +come back again sometime." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary3B"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Williams<br> + 409 Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<p>[TR: Apparently a second interview with same person despite age discrepancy.]</p> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'am, I know all about slavery. I'll be eighty-four the +twenty-fifth of this month. I was born in 1855. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had eleven children and they all said I could remember the +best of all. I'm the second oldest. And they all dead but me. +</p> +<p> +"I used to spin and on Friday I'd set aside my wheel and on Saturday +morning we'd sweep yards. And Saturday evening was our holiday. +</p> +<p> +"I belonged to the Lees and my white folks was good to me. I was the +aptest one among 'em, so they'd give me a basket and a ginger cake and +I'd go to the Presly's after squabs. They'd be just nine days old 'cause +they said if they was any older they'd be tough. +</p> +<p> +"Now, when the Yankees come through ever'body was up in the house 'cept +me. I was out in the yard with the Yankees. No, I wasn't scared of +'em—I had better sense. +</p> +<p> +"This is all the 'joyment I have now is to think back in slavery times. +</p> +<p> +"In slavery times white folks used to carry me to church. They'd carry +me to church in preference to anybody else. When they'd sing I'd be so +happy I'd hop and skip. I'm one of the stewardess sisters of St. John's +Methodist Church. We takes care of the sacrament table. +</p> +<p> +"I believe in visions. I'm a great revisionist. I don't have to be +asleep either. Now if I see a vision of a black snake, it's a sign I got +a black enemy. And if it's a light colored snake, it's a sign I got a +white enemy. And if it's a kinda of a yellow snake, I got a enemy is a +yellow nigger. +</p> +<p> +"Now, here's a true sign of death. If you dream of seen' nakedness, +somebody sure goin' to die in your family or maybe your neighbors'. +</p> +<p> +"In slavery times they mostly wove their own dresses. Wove goods called +muslin. +</p> +<p> +"And they wore bonnets in slavery times made out of bull rush grass. +Called 'em bull rush bonnets. I knowed how to weave but they had me +spinnin' all the time. +</p> +<p> +"I've always worked for the 'ristocrat white people—lawyers, doctors, +and bankers. Mr. Frank Head was cashier of that old Merchant and +Planters Bank. He was a northern man. Oh, from away up North. +</p> +<p> +"When I cooked, the greatest trouble I had was gettin' away. Nobody +wanted me to leave. And I tell you those northern ladies wanted to call +me Mrs. Williams. I'd say, 'Don't do that. You know these southern +people don't like that—don't believe in that.' But you know she would +call me Miss Mary. But I said, 'Don't do that.' +</p> +<p> +"I'm just an old darky and can't 'spress myself but I try to do what's +right and I think that's the reason the Lord has let me live so long." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Husband was a soldier in the Spanish-American War and she receives a +pension. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsRosenaHunt"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Rosena Hunt Williams<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 56</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My mother was Amanda McVey. She was born two years, six months after +freedom in Corinth, Mississippi. My father was born in slavery. Grandma +lived with us at her death. Her name was Emily McVey. She was sold in +her girlhood days. Uncle George was sold to a man in the settlement +named Lee. His name was Joe Lee (Lea?). Another of my uncles was sold to +a man named Washington. His name was George Washington. They were sold +at different times. Being sold was their biggest dread. Some of them +wanted to be sold trusting to be treated better. +</p> +<p> +"Mother and grandma didn't have a hard time like my father said he come +up under. He said he was brought up hard. He was raised (reared) at +Jackson, Tennessee. He was never sold. Master Alf Hunt owned him and his +young master, Willie Hunt, inherited him. He said they never put him in +the field till he was twelve years old. He started ploughing a third +part of a day. A girl about grown and another boy a little older took +turns to do a 'buck's' (a grown man) work. They was lotted of a certain +tract and if it stay clear a certain time to get it all done. He said +they got whooped and half fed. When the War was on, his white folks had +to half feed their own selves. He talked like if the War had lasted much +longer it would been a famine in the land. He hit this world in time to +have a hard time of it. After freedom was worse time in his life. +</p> +<p> +"In August when the crops was laid by Master Hunt called them to the +house at one o'clock by so many taps of the farm bell. It hung in a +great big tree. He read a paper from his side porch telling them they +free. They been free several months then and didn't a one of them know +it." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsIIIWilliamBall"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: "Soldier" Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 98</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My name is William Ball Williams III. I was born in Greensburg. My +owners was Robert and Mary Ball. They had four children I knowd. Old man +Ball bought ma and two children for one thousand five hundred dollars. I +never was sold. I want to live to be a hundred years old. I'm +ninety-eight years old now. +</p> +<p> +"Ma was Margarett Ball. Pa was William Anderson. Ma was a cook and pa a +field hand. They whooped a plenty on the place where I come up. Some of +'em run off. Some they tied to a tree. Bob Ball didn't use no dogs. When +they got starved out they'd come outen the woods. Of course they would. +Bob Ball raised fine tobacco, fine Negroes, fine horses. He made us go +to church. Four or five of us would walk to the white folks' Baptist +church. The master and his family rode. It was a good piece. We had +dances in the cabins every once in a while. We dance more in winter time +so we could turn a pot down in the door to drown out the noise. We had +plenty plain grub to eat. +</p> +<p> +"I run away to Louisville to j'ine the Yankees one day. I was scared to +death all the time. They put us in front to shield themselves. They said +they was fighting for us—for our freedom. Piles of them was killed. I +got a flesh wound. I'm scarred up some. We got plenty to eat. I was in +two or three hot battles. I wanted to quit but they would catch them and +shoot them if they left. I didn't know how to get out and get away. I +mustered out at Jacksonville, Florida and walked every step of the way +back. When I got back it was fall of the year. My folks still at my +master's. I was on picket guard at Jacksonville, Florida. We fought a +little at Pensacola, Florida. +</p> +<p> +"At the end of the War provisions got mighty scarce. If we didn't have +enough to eat we took it. They hadn't raised nothing to eat the last two +years. Before I got back to Kentucky the Ku Klux was about and it was +hard to get enough to eat to keep traveling on. I was scared nearly to +death all the time. I'm not in favor of war. I didn't stay on with the +master but my folks lived on. They didn't want to hire Negro soldiers. I +traveled about hunting a good place and got to Osceola, Arkansas. I been +here in Forrest City twenty ard years. The best people in the world live +in Arkansas. +</p> +<p> +"I'm going to try to go to the Yankee Reunion. They sent me a big letter +(invitation). They going to send me a ticket and pay all my expenses. It +is at Gettysburg. It is from June 29th to July 6th. My grandson is going +to take care of me. +</p> +<p> +"I get one hundred dollars a month pension. It keeps us mighty well. I +want to live to be a hundred years old." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsonAnna"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Anna Williamson, Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: Between 75 and 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Grandma come from North Carolina. Her master was Rodes Herndon, then +Cager Booker. He owned my mama. My name is Anna Booker. I married Wes +Williamson. +</p> +<p> +"My papa's master was Calvin Winfree. He come from Virginia. Me and Bert +Winfree (white) raised together close to Somerville, Tennessee. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma and grandpa was named Maria and Allen. Her master was Rodes +Herndon. I was fourth to the oldest of mama's children. She give me to +grandma. That who raised me. Mama took to the field after freedom. Mama +had seven or eight children. +</p> +<p> +"Mama muster been a pretty big sorter woman when she young. A ridin' +boss went to whoopin' her once and she tore every rag clothes he had on +offen him. I heard em say he went home strip start naked. I think they +said he got turned off or quit, one. +</p> +<p> +"When mama was in slavery she had three girl babies and long wid them +she nursed some of the white babies. She cooked some but wasn't the +regular white folks' cook. Another black woman was the regular cook. I +heard her say she was a field hand mostly durin' slavery. +</p> +<p> +"Folks was free two or three years fore they knowed it. Nobody told em. +</p> +<p> +"I used to have to go up the road to get milk for the old mistress. She +boxed my ears. That when I was a child reckly after the war. +</p> +<p> +"They had a latch and a hart bar cross the door. I never was out but +once after dark. I never seen no Ku Klux. My folks didn't know they was +free. +</p> +<p> +"Dr. Washington lived in Somerville, Tennessee and brought us to +Arkansas to farm. He owned acres and acres of land here. I was grown and +had a house full of children. I got five living now. +</p> +<p> +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for. I would vote for the worst +kinder officers maybe and I wouldn't wanter make times harder on us all +'an they is. +</p> +<p> +"I been cookin' and farmin' all my life. Now I get $10 a month from the +Sociable Welfare. +</p> +<p> +"I used to pick up chips at Mrs. Willforms—pick up a big cotton basket +piled up fore I quit. I seen the Yankees, they camped at the fair +grounds. I thought they wore the prettiest clothes and the brass buttons +so pretty on the blue suits. I hear em beat the drum. I go peep out when +they come by. +</p> +<p> +"My old mistress slapped me till my eye was red cause one day I says +'Ain't them men pretty?' They camped at what is now the Fair Grounds at +Somerville, Tennessee, at sorter right of town. My papa was a ox driver. +That is all he done bout. Seem like there was haulin' to be done all the +time. +</p> +<p> +"The folks used to be heap better than they is now. Some of the masters +was mean to the slaves but they mortally had plenty to eat and wear and +a house to live in. Some of the houses was sorry and the snow come in +the cracks but we had big fire places and plenty wood to cook and keep +warm by. The children all wore flannel clothes then to keep em warm. +They raised sheep. +</p> +<p> +"It is a shame what folks do now. These young darky girls marries a boy +and they get tired each other. They quit. They ain't got no sign of +divorce! Course they ain't never been married! They jes' take up and +live together, then they both go on livin' with some other man an' +woman. It ain't right! Folks ain't good like they used to be. We old +folks ain't got no use for such doin's. They done too smart to be told +by us old folks. I do best I can an' be good as I knows how to be. +</p> +<p> +"The times is fine as I ever seen in my life. I wish I was young and +strong. I wouldn't ask nobody for sistance. Tey ain't nuthin' wrong wid +this year's crop as I sees. Times is fine." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsonCallieHalsey"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Callie Halsey Williamson, Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: 60?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Mother was born in Alabama during slavery. Her name was Levisa Halsey. +Neither of my parents were sold. Mother was tranferred (transferred) to +her young mistress. She had no children and still lived in the home with +her people. Her mother, Emaline, was the cook. Master Bradford owned +grandmother and grandfather both and my own father all. Mother was the +oldest and only child. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know whether they was mean to all the slaves or not. Seems they +were not to my folks. The old man died sometime before freedom. The +young master went to get a overseer. He brought a new man to take his +own place. He whooped grandma and auntie and cut grandma's long hair off +with his pocket-knife. +</p> +<p> +"During that time grandpa slip up on the house top and take some boards +off. Grandma would sit up in her bed and knit by moonlight through the +hole. He had to put the boards back. She had to work in the field in +daytime. +</p> +<p> +"During the War they were scared nearly to death of the soldiers and +would run down in their master's big orchard and hide in the tall broom +sage. They rode her young master on a rail and killed him. A drove of +soldiers come by and stopped. They said, 'Young man, can you ride a +young horse?' They gathered him and took him out and brought him in the +yard. He died. They hurt him and scared him to death. +</p> +<p> +"Another train come and loaded up all the slaves and somehow when +freedom come on, my folks was here at Arkadelphia. They said they lived +in fear of the soldiers all the time. +</p> +<p> +"Mother said a woman come first and stuck a flag out a upstairs window +and the Yankees shot the guns off and some of them made talks on freedom +to the Negroes and white folks. They seen that at Arkadelphia. +</p> +<p> +"Mama, grandma, and grandpa started on their way back home following +soldier camps. They never got back to their homes. They never did like +the Yankees and grieved about the way they done their young master. He +was like one of my father's own children. They seen hard times after +freedom. It was hard to live and they was used to work but they had a +good living. They had to die in Arkansas. How come I'm here now." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WillisCharlotte"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Charlotte Willis, Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 63</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Grandpa said he walked every step of the way from old Virginia to +Mississippi. They camped at night, cooked and fed them. They didn't eat +no more till they camped next night. They was walked in a peart pace and +the guards and traders rode. They stop every now and then for to be +cried off and some more be took on. +</p> +<p> +"Grandpa said he didn't wanter be sold but they never ax 'em no +diffurence. Sold 'em and took 'em right along. They better keep their +feelings hid, for them traders was same kind er stock these cattle men +is today judging from the way he say it was then. Grandpa loved Virginia +long as he have breath in him. +</p> +<p> +"We used to sing +</p> +<pre> +'Old Virginia nigger say he love hot mush; + Alabama nigger say, good God, nigger, hush.' +</pre> +<p> +(She sang it very fast and in a fashion Negroes only can do—ed.) He +wore a big straw hat and he'd get up and fan us out the way. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma was brought from South Carolina by the Willises to Mississippi. +I heard her say her and him was made to jump over the broom. Called that +getting 'em married. Grandpa said that was the way white folks had of +showing off the couples. Then it would be 'nounced from the big house +steps they was man and wife. Sometimes more than two be 'nounced at the +gatherin'. +</p> +<p> +"They had good times sometimes. They talked 'bout corn shuckings, corn +shellings, cotton traumpin's, (packing cotton in wagon beds by walking +on it over and over, she said—ed.) and dances. +</p> +<p> +"Mother said she never was sold. She b'long to the Willises in +Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"I reckon I sure do 'members my grandpa and grandma bof. Seventeen of us +all lived at Grandpa Wash Hollivy's home. He was paying on it and died. +The house have three rooms in it. In the fall of the year grandma took +all the rancid grease and skins and get the drippings from the ash +hopper and make soap 'nough to do 'er till sometime next year. She made +it in the iron washpot. He raised meat to do us till sometime next year. +We never run short on nothing to eat. +</p> +<p> +"We never had but 'bout two dresses at the same time. When I come on, +dresses was scarce. If we tore our dresses, we wore patches. We was +sorter 'shamed to have our dresses patched up. +</p> +<p> +"I heard 'em say grandpa's house was guarded to keep off the Ku Kluck +one night. They come all right 'nough but went to another house. They +started whooping. The guards left grandpa's house and went down there +and shot into them. Some of them was killed and the horses run off. Some +run off quick and got out the way. I never caught on to what they +guarded grandpa for. +</p> +<p> +"I had one girl baby what died. I been married once in my life. We rents +our house. I never 'plied to the Welfare yit. We been farming my +enduring life. Still farming; I says we is. +</p> +<p> +"Old folks give out and can't run on wid the work. Young folks no 'count +and works to sorter git by their own selfs. Way I see it. We got so far +off the track and can't git back. Starve 'fore we git back like we used +to be. We used to git credit. Now there ain't no place to git it. We +down and can't git up. Way I sees it. Young generation is so uneasy, +ain't still a minute. They wanter be going all the time. They don't +marry; they goes lives together. Then they quits and take up wid +somebody else. I don't know what make 'em do thater way. That the way +the right young ones doing now. +</p> +<p> +"My pa looked on me when I was three days old and left us. I ain't never +seen him since." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilsonElla"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ella Wilson<br> + 1611 McGowan Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: Claims 100</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. I don't remember the month. But when +the Civil War ceased I was here then and sixteen years old. I'm a +hundred years old. Some folks tries to make out like it ain't so. But I +reckon I oughter know. +</p> +<p> +"The white folks moved out from Georgia and went to Louisiana. I was +raised in Louisiana, but I was born in Georgia. I have had several +people countin' up my age and they all say I is a hundred years old. I +had eight children. All of them are free born. Four of them died when +they were babies. I lost one just a few days ago. +</p> +<p> +"I had such a hard time in slavery. Them white folks was slashing me and +whipping me and putting me in the buck, till I don't want to hear +nothin' about it. +</p> +<p> +"An old man named Dr. Polk got a dime from me and said it was for the +Old Age Pension. He lived in Magnolia, Arkansas. They ran him out of +Magnolia for ruining a colored girl and I don't know where he is now. I +know he got ten cents from me. +</p> +<p> +"The first work I ever did was nursing the white children. My old mis' +called me in the house and told me that she wanted me to take care of +her children and from then till freedom came, I stayed in the house +nursing. I had to get up every morning at five when the cook got up and +make the coffee and then I had to go in the dining-room and set the +table. Then I served breakfast. Then I went into the house and cleaned +it up. Then I 'tended to the white children and served the other meals +during the day. I never did work in the fields much. My old mars said I +was too damned slow. +</p> +<p> +"They carried me out to the field one evening. He never did show me nor +tell me how to handle it and when I found myself, he had knocked me +down. When I got up, he didn't tell me what to do, but when I picked up +my things and started droppin' the seeds ag'in, he picked up a pine root +and killed me off with it. When I come to, he took me up to the house +and told his wife he didn't want me into the fields because I was too +damned slow. +</p> +<p> +"My mars used to throw me in a buck and whip me. He would put my hands +together and tie them. Then he would strip me naked. Then he would make +me squat down. Then he would run a stick through behind my knees and in +front of my elbows. My knees was up against my chest. My hands was tied +together just in front of my shins. The stick between my arms and my +knees held me in a squat. That's what they called a buck. You could [TR: +sic: couldn't] stand up an' you couldn't git your feet out. You couldn't +do nothin' but just squat there and take what he put on you. You +couldn't move no way at all. Just try to. You jus' fall over on one side +and have to stay there till you turned over by him. +</p> +<p> +"He would whip me on one side till that was sore and full of blood and +then he would whip me on the other side till that was all tore up. I got +a scar big as the place my old mis' hit me. She took a bull whip +once—the bull whip had a piece of iron in the handle of it—and she got +mad. She was so mad she took the whip and hit me over the head with the +butt end of it, and the blood flew. It ran all down my back and dripped +off my heels. But I wasn't dassent to stop to do nothin' about it. Old +ugly thing! The devil's got her right now!! They never rubbed no salt +nor nothin' in your back. They didn't need to. +</p> +<p> +"When the war come, they made him serve. He would go there and run away +and come back home. One day after he had been took away and had come +back, he was settin' down talkin' to old mis', and I was huddled up in +the corner listenin', and I heered him tell her, 'Tain't no use to do +all them things. The niggers'll soon be free.' And she said, 'I'll be +dead before that happens, I hope.' And she died just one year before the +slaves was freed. They was a mean couple. +</p> +<p> +"Old mars used to strip my sister naked and make her lay down, and he +would lift up a fence rail and lay it down on her neck. Then he'd whip +her till she was bloody. She wouldn't get away because the rail held her +head down. If she squirmed and tried to git loose, the rail would choke +her. Her hands was tied behind her. And there wasn't nothin' to do but +jus' lay there and take it. +</p> +<p> +"I am almost a stranger here in Little Rock. My father was named Lewis +Hogan and I had one sister named Tina and one named Harriet. His white +folks what he lived with was Mrs. Thomas. He was a carriage driver for +her. Pleas Collier bought him from her and took him to Louisiana. All +the people on my mother's side was left in Georgia. My grandmother's +name was Rachel. Her white folks she lived with was named Dardens. They +all lived in Atlanta, Georgia. I remember the train we got on when we +left Georgia. Grandma Rachel had one daughter named Siney. Siney had a +son named Billie and a sister named Louise. And my grandmother was free +when I first got big enough to know myself. I don't know how come she +was free. That was a long time before the war. The part of Georgia we +lived in was where chestnuts grow, but they wasn't no chinkapins. All my +grandmother's people stayed in Atlanta, and they were living at the time +I left there. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's name was Dinah Hogans and my father's name was Lewis +Hogans. I don't know where they were borned. But when I knowed him, they +was in Georgia. My mother's mars bought my father 'cause my mother heard +that Collier was goin' to break up and go to Louisiana. My father told +his mars that if he (Collier) broke up and left, he never would be no +more good to him. Then my mother found out what he said to Collier, so +she told her old mis' if Collier left, she never would do her no more +good. You see, my mother was give to Mrs. Collier when old Darden who +was Mrs. Collier's father died. So Collier bought my father. Collier +kept us all till we all got free. White folks come to me sometimes about +all that. +</p> +<p> +"You jus' oughter hear me answer them. I tells them about it just like I +would colored folks. +</p> +<p> +"'Them your teeth in your mouth?' +</p> +<p> +"'Whose you think they is? Suttinly they're my teeth.' +</p> +<p> +"'Ain't you sorry you free?' +</p> +<p> +"'What I'm goin' to be sorry for? I ain't no fool.' +</p> +<p> +"'How old is you?' +</p> +<p> +"I tells them. Some of 'em want to argue with me and say I ain't that +old. Some of 'em say, 'Well, the Lawd sure has blessed you.' Sure he's +blessed me. Don't I know that? +</p> +<p> +"I've seen 'em run away from slavery. There was a white man that lived +close to us who had just one slave and he couldn't keep him out the +woods to save his soul. The white man was named Jim Sales and the +colored boy was named—shucks, I can't remember his name. But I know Jim +Sales couldn't keep that nigger out the woods nohow. +</p> +<p> +"I was freed endurin' the Civil War. We was in at dinner and my old mars +had been to town. Old man Pleas Collier, our mean mars, called my daddy +out and then he said, 'All you come out here.' I said to myself, 'I +wonder what he's a goin' to do to my daddy,' and I slipped into the +front room and listened. And he said, 'All of you come.' Then I went out +too. And he unrolled the Government paper he had in his hand and read it +and told us it meant that all of us was free. Didn't tell us we was free +as he was. Then he said the Government's going to send you some money to +live on. But the Government never did do it. I never did see nobody that +got it. Did you? They didn't give me nothin' and they didn't give my +father nothin'. They just sot us free and turned us loose naked. +</p> +<p> +"Right after they got through reading the papers and told us we was +free, my daddy took me to the field and put me to work. I'd been workin' +in the house before that. +</p> +<p> +"Then they wasn't payin' nobody nothin'. They just hired people to work +on halves. That was the first year. But we didn't get no half. We didn't +git nothin'. Just time we got our crop laid by, the white man run us off +and we didn't get nothin'. We had a fine crop too. We hadn't done +nothin' to him. He just wanted all the crop for hisself and he run us +off. That's all. +</p> +<p> +"Well, after that my daddy took and hired me out up here in Arkansas. He +hired me out with some old poor white trash. We was livin' then in +Louisiana with a old white man named Mr. Smith. I couldn't tell what +part of Louisiana it was no more than it was down there close to Homer, +about a mile from Homer. My mother died and my father come and got me +and took me home to take care of the chillen. +</p> +<p> +"I have been married twice. I married first time down there within four +miles of Homer. I was married to my first husband a number of years. His +name was Wesley Wilson. We had eight children. My second husband was +named Lee somepin or other. I married him on Thursday night and he left +on Monday morning. I guess he must have been taking the white folks' +things and had to clear out. His name was Lee Hardy. That is what his +name was. I didn't figure he stayed with me long enough for me to take +his name. That nigger didn't look right to me nohow. He just married me +'cause he thought I was a working woman and would give him money. He +asked me for money once but I didn't give 'im none. What I'm goin' to +give 'im money for? That's what I'd like to know. +</p> +<p> +"After my first husband died, I cooked and went on for them white folks. +That was the only thing I could do. I was cooking before he died. I +can't do no work now. I ain't worked for more than twenty years. I ain't +done no work since I left Magnolia. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to the Collins Street Baptist Church—Nichols' church. +</p> +<p> +"I don't git no pension. I don't git nothin'. I been down to see if I +could git it but they ain't give me nothin' yit. I'm goin' down ag'in +when I can git somebody to carry me." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Ella Wilson insists that she is one hundred years old and that she was +born sixteen years before freedom. The two statements conflict. From her +appearance and manner, either might be true. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilsonRobert"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Robert Wilson<br> + 811 West Pullen Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 101</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My name is Robert Wilson. I was born in Halifax County, Virginia. How +old am I? Accordin' to my recollection I was twenty-three years old +befo' the war started. Old master tole me how old I was. I'm a hundred +and one now. Yes'm I <i>knows</i> I am. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm I been sold. They put us up on the auction block jest like we was +a hoss. They put me up and white man ax 'Who want to buy this boy?' One +man say 'ten dollars' and then they run it up to a hundred. And they buy +a girl to match you and raise you up together. When you want to get +married you jump over the broomstick. I used to weigh one hundred and +fifty-six pounds and a half, standin' weight. I could pick four and five +hundred pounds of cotton in a day. +</p> +<p> +"When the Yankees come, old master make us boys take the sack of money +and hide it in the big pond. Yes'm, we drove the buggy right in the +water. +</p> +<p> +"Durin' the time of the war I used to ride 'long side of the Yankees. +They give me a blue coat with brass buttons and a blue cap and +brass-toed boots. I used to saddle and curry the bosses. I member +Company Fifth and Sixth. +</p> +<p> +"They tole us the war was to make things better. We didn't know we was +free till 'bout six months after the war was over. I didn't care whether +I was free or not. +</p> +<p> +"'Bout slavery—well, I thinks like this. I think they fared better +then. They didn't have to worry 'bout spenses. We had plenty chicken and +everything. Nowdays when you pay the rent you ain't got nothin' left to +buy somethin' to eat. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I been to school. I'se a preacher (showing me his certificate of +ordination). I lives close to the Lord. The Lord done left me here for a +purpose. +</p> +<p> +"When we used to pray we put our heads under the wash pot to keep old +master from hearin' us. Old master make us put the chillun to bed fo' +dark. I 'member one song he make us sing— +</p> +<pre> +'Down in Mobile, down in Mobile + How I love dat pretty yellow gal, + She rock to suit me--; + Down in Mobile, down in Mobile.' +</pre> +<p> +"You 'member when Grant took the fort at Vicksburg? I 'member he and +that general on the white hoss—yes'm, General Lee, they eat dinner +together and then after dinner they go to fightin'. +</p> +<p> +"Oh lord! Don't talk about them Ku Klux. +</p> +<p> +"Cose I believes in spirits. Don't you? Well you ain't never been +skeered. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom my folks refugeed from Virginia to Tennessee so I went to +Memphis. We got things from the Bureau. Yes, Lord! I had everything I +wanted. I wouldn't care if that time would come back now. +</p> +<p> +"'Did you ever vote?' Me? Yes'm I voted. Never had no trouble 'tall. I +voted for Garfield. I 'member when Garfield was shot. I was settln' out +in the yard. The moon was in the 'clipse. I'll never forget it. +</p> +<p> +"I think the colored folks should have a legal right to vote, cause if +ever they come another war—now listen—them darkies ain't never goin' +to France again. The nigger ain't got no country—this is white man's +town. +</p> +<p> +"What I been doin' since the war? Well, I'm a good cook. When I puts on +the white apron, I knows what to do. Then I preaches. The Lord done +revealed things to me. +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you 'bout this younger generation. They is goin' to +destruction. They is not envelopin (developing) their education. +</p> +<p> +"Well I done tole you all I know. Guess I tole you 'bout a book, ain't +I?" +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WindhamTom1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Tom Windham, 723 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 98</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was twenty-one years old when the war was settled. My mother and my +grandmother kep' my age up and after the death of them I knowed how to +handle it myself. +</p> +<p> +"My old master's name was Butler and he was pretty fair to his darkies. +He give em plenty to eat and wear. +</p> +<p> +"I was born and raised in Indian Territory and emigrated from there to +Atlanta, Georgia when I was about twelve or thirteen. We lived right in +Atlanta. I cleaned up round the house. Yes ma'm, that's what I followed. +When the Yankees come to Atlanta they just forced us into the army. +After I got into the army and got used to it, it was fun—just like meat +and bread. Yankees treated me good. I was sorry when it broke up. When +the bugle blowed we knowed our business. Sometimes, the age I is now, I +wish I was in it. Father Abraham Lincoln was our President. I knowed the +war was to free the colored folks. I run away from my white folks is how +come I was in the Yankee army. I was in the artillery. That deefened me +a whole lot and I lost these two fingers on my left hand—that's all of +my joints that got broke. +</p> +<p> +"Before the war my white folks was good to us. I had a better time than +I got now. +</p> +<p> +"My father and mother was sold away from me, but old mistress couldn't +rest without em and went and got em back. They stayed right there till +they died. Us folks was treated well. I think we should have our liberty +cause us ain't hogs or horses—us is human flesh. +</p> +<p> +"When I was with the Yankees, I done some livin'. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school two months in my life. I should a gone longer but I +found where I could get next to a dollar so I quit. If I had education +now it might a done me some good. +</p> +<p> +"I used to be in a brass band. I like a brass band, don't make no +difference where I hear it. +</p> +<p> +"There was one song we played when I was in the army. It was: +</p> +<pre> +'Rasslin Jacob, don't weep + Weepin' Mary, don't weep. + Before I'd be a slave + I'd be buried in my grave, + Go home to my father and be saved.' +</pre> +<p> +The Rebels was hot after us then. Another one we used to sing was: +</p> +<pre> +'My old mistress promised me + When she die, she'd set me free.' +</pre> +<p> +"After the war I continued to work around the white folks and yes ma'm, +I seen the Ku Klux many a time. They bothered me sometimes but they soon +let me alone. They was a few Yankees about and they come together and +made the Ku Klux stay in their place. +</p> +<p> +"One time after the war I went to Ohio and stayed three months but it +was too cold for me. Man I worked for was named Harper and as good a man +as ever broke a piece of bread. +</p> +<p> +"I come back South and learned how to farm. I been here in this country +of Arkansas a long time. I hoped clean up this place (Pine Bluff) and +make a town of it. +</p> +<p> +"I got a daughter and two sisters alive in Africa today—in Liberia. I +went there after we was free. I liked it. Just the thoughts of bein' +where Christ traveled—that's the good part of it. They furnished us +transportation to go to Africa after the war and a lot of the colored +folks went. I come back cause I had a lot of kin here, but I sent my +daughter and two sisters there and they're alive there today." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WindhamTomB"></a> +<h3>FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Subject: Apparitions<br> +<br> +Information by: Tom Windham<br> +Place of Residence: 723 Missouri St. Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Occupation: None (Age 92)</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]<br> +[TR: Same name, address, six year age difference from last informant.]</p> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'm, I believe in spirits—you got two spirits—one bad and one +good, and when you die your bad spirit here on this earth. +</p> +<p> +Now my mother comes to see me once in awhile at night. She been dead +till her bones is bleached, but she comes and tells me to be a good boy. +I always been obedient to old and young. She tell me to be good and she +banish from me. +</p> +<p> +My grandmother been to see me once. +</p> +<p> +Old Father Abraham Lincoln, I've seen him since he been dead too. I got +a gun old Father Abraham give me right out o' his own hand at Vicksburg. +I'm goin' to keep it till I die too. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'm, I know they is spirits." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WindhamTom2"></a> +<h3>Pine Bluff District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Interviewer: Martin - Barker<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave<br> +Story.<br> +<br> +Information by: Tom Windham<br> +Place of Residence: 1221 Georgia St.<br> +Age: 87</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +My master was an Indian. Lewis Butler of Oklahoma. I was born and raised +in Muskogee, Okla. +</p> +<p> +All of marse Butler's people were Creek Indians. They owned a large +plantation and raised vegetables. They lived in tepees, had floors and +were set on a lot and a wall boarded up around them. This was done so +that they could hide the slaves they had stolen. +</p> +<p> +I was twelve or thirteen years old, when the Indians had a small war. +They wouldn't allow us to fight. If we did, we were punished. They had a +place and made us work. I went to school two months also a little at +night. Cant read nor write. I am all alone now here in America. I have a +daughter in Ethiopia, teaching school, also two sisters. +</p> +<p> +I served in several wars and I have been to Ethiopia. We left Monroe, +La., took water, then went back by gun-boat to Galveston. The Government +took us over and brought us back. After the Civil war was over the +Indians let the slaves go. +</p> +<p> +I had an Indian wife and wore Indian dress and when I went to Milford, +Tenn., I had to send the outfit home to Okla. I had long hair until +1931. +</p> +<p> +My Indians believed in our God. They held their meetings in a large +tent. They believed in salvation and damnation, and in Heaven and Hell. +</p> +<p> +My idea of Heaven is that it is a holy place with God. We will walk in +Heaven just as on earth. As in him we believe, so shall we see. +</p> +<p> +The earth shall burn, and the old earth shall pass away and the new +earth will be created. The saints will return and live on, that is the +ones who go away now. +</p> +<p> +The new earth is when Jesus will cone to earth and reign. Every one has +two spirits. One that God kills and the other an evil spirit. I have had +communication with my dead wife twice since I been in Pine Bluff. Her +spirit come to me at night, calling me, asking whar wuz baby? +</p> +<p> +That meant our daughter whut is across the water. +</p> +<p> +My first wifes name was Arla Windham. My second wife was just part +Indian. I have seen spirits of friends just as they were put away. I +shore believe in ghosts. Their language is different from ours. I knew +my wife's voice cause she called me "Tommy". +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WiseAlice"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Alice Wise<br> + 1112 Indiana Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in South Carolina, and I sent and got my age and the man +sent me my age. He said he remembered me. He said, 'You married Marcus +Wise. I know you is seventy-nine 'cause I'm seventy-four and you're +older'n me. Why, I got a boy fifty-three years old. +</p> +<p> +"We belonged to Daniel Draft. His wife was named Maud. And my father's +people was named Wesley Caughman and his wife was Catherine Caughman. +</p> +<p> +"I can recollect hearin' the folks hollerin' when the Yankees come +through and singin' this old cornfield song +</p> +<pre> +'I'm a goin' away tomorrow + Hoodle do, hoodle do.' +</pre> +<p> +That's all I can recollect. +</p> +<p> +"I can recollect when we moved from the white folks. My father driv' a +wagon and hauled lumber to Columbia from Lexington. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know how old I was when I come here. My age got away from me, +that's how come I had to write home for it, but I had three chillun when +I come to this country; I know that. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school a little, but chillun in them days had to work. I was +always apt about washin' and ironin' and sewin' and so if anybody was +stopped from school I was stopped. I used to set pockets in pants for +mama. In them days they weaved and made their own. +</p> +<p> +"They'd do better if they had a factory here now. Things wouldn't be so +high. +</p> +<p> +"Oh Lord, yes, I could knit. I'd sit up some nights and knit a half a +sock and spin and card. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's boys would card and spin a broach when they wasn't doin' +nothin' else, but nowadays you can't get 'em to bring you a bucket of +water. +</p> +<p> +"They say they is weaker and wiser, but I say they is weaker and +foolisher. That's what I think. You know they ain't like the old folks +was. Folks works nowadays and keeps their chillun in school till they're +grown, and it don't do 'em much good-some of 'em." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WiseFrank"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Frank Wise, 1006 Victory Street,<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81 to 85</h3> +<br> +<p><b>Birth and Parents</b></p> +<p> +"I was born in Burch County, Georgia, in 1854. I came to this state in +1871; I think I was about sixteen years old then. +</p> +<p> +"My father was named Jim Wise and my mother was named Harriet Wise. My +father belonged to the Wises, and my mother to the Crawfords. They +didn't live on the same plantation. When they married, she was a +Crawford. Her old master was named Jim Crawford. I don't know how she +and my father happened to meet up. Wise and Crawford had adjoining +plantations. Both of them was in Burch County. My father's father was +named Jacob Wise and his mother was named Martha. I don't remember the +names of their master. I don't remember the names of my mother's people. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>War Memories</b></p> +<p> +"I remember the year the War ended. I remember when the Yankees came on +the place that day the War ended. We children was all settin' out in the +yard. Some of them ran under the house when they saw the soldiers. They +were shooting the chickens and everything, taking the horses, and +anything else they thought they could use. They said to the old lady, +'Lemme kill them little niggers.' Old miss said, 'No, wait till you set +them free.' He said, 'No, when we set them free, we ain't goin' to kill +them.' They got around in the house, under the house, and in the yard. +They asked the old lady, 'Where is the horses?' She said, 'I don't +know.' They said, 'Go down in the woods and get them.' Somebody went +down and brought back a mare and a mule and a colt. They knocked the +colt in the head and shot him. They took the mare and the mule. They +took all the meat out of the smokehouse. They didn't set us free, and +they didn't tell us anything about freedom. Not then. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> +<p> +"I don't remember how we got the news of freedom. I don't remember what +the slaves expected to get. I don't know what they got, if they got +anything. I don't remember nothin' about that. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Schooling</b></p> +<p> +"I went to school about eight days. That's all the schooling I ever got. +I had a brother and sister who went to school, but I never went much. I +went to school what little I did right here in Lonoke County, Arkansas. +My teacher was Tom Fuller. He was a colored man. He came from down in +Texas. I learned everything I know by watching people and listenin' to +them. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Occupational Experiences</b></p> +<p> +"The first thing I ever did was farming. I farmed all up till 1879. I +worked on steamboat till 1881, and then I went out railroading. I worked +at that a long time. I married in 1883. I was about twenty-seven years +old then, and a few months over. +</p> +<p> +"While I was farming, I did some sharecropping, but I never got cheated +out of anything. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Ku Klux</b> +</p> +<p> +"I remember the folks had been off to see their people and the Ku Klux +taken the stock while they were gone. I don't remember the Ku Klux Klan +interfering with the Negroes much. I never saw them. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Voting</b></p> +<p> +"I never voted till Cleveland began his campaign for President. I voted +for eight presidents. Nobody ever bothered me about it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Family</b></p> +<p> +"There were six children in my mother's family. My father had six +brothers. He made the seventh. I had nine children in all. Four of them +are living now. One is here; one, in St. Louis; and two, in Chicago. My +boy is in Chicago. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> +<p> +"The majority of the young people are just growing up. Lots of them are +not getting any raising at all." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Wise is between eighty-one and eighty-five years old. The data he gives +conflict, some of it indicating the earlier and some of it later years. +</p> +<p> +He doesn't talk much and has to be pumped. He doesn't lose the thread of +the discourse. His failure to talk on details of his early life seem to +the interviewer due to unwillingness rather than lack of memory. While +his age is advanced, his mind is sharp for one who has had such limited +training. +</p> +<p> +He has no definite means of support, but states that he has been +promised a pension in September--he means old age assistance. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WithersLucy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Lucy Withers, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 86</h3> +<br> +<p> +I was born 5-1/2 miles from Abbeville, South Carolina, in sight of +Little Mountain. I do remember the Civil War. I never seen them fight. +They come to about twenty or thirty miles from where I lived. They +didn't bother much in the parts where I lived. All the white men folks +went to war. My mama's master was Edward Roach and his wife was Miss +Sarah Roach. My papa's master was Peter Radcliff and Miss Nancy +Radcliff. They give me to her niece, Miss Jennie Shelitoe. When she +married she wanted me. After freedom I married. In 1866 we come to a big +farm close to Pine Bluff. Then we lived close to Memphis and I been +living here in Brinkley a long time. +</p> +<p> +The Ku Klux put down a Governor in South Carolina right after the war. +They rode everywhere night and day scaring everybody. They wouldn't let +no colored people hold office. That governor was a colored man. The Ku +Klux whipped both black and white folks. They run the Yankees plumb out +er that country. +</p> +<p> +No sir ree I never voted and I ain't never goner vote! Women is tearing +dis world up. +</p> +<p> +The ex-slaves was told that they would got things, different things. I +don't know what all. I know they didn't got nothing and when freedom +came they took their clothes and left. They scattered out and went to +different places. It was hard to get work and there was no money cept +what the Yankees give em. When they all got run off there was no money. +</p> +<p> +My husband was a Yankee soldier and he decided he wanter come to this +country. We come on the train and on the boat to Pine Bluff. We farmed. +I got three children but just two living. One boy lives at Fargo and the +girl lives at Chicago. My husband died. Me and my sister lives here. I +bought a place with my pension money. That since my husband died. +</p> +<p> +The present times is hard. I don't know nithin about these young folks. +I tends to my own business. I ain't got nothing to do with the young +folks. I don't know what causes the times to be so hard. Folks used to +wear more clothes than they do and let colored folks have more ironing +and bigger washings too. The washings bout played out. Some few folks +hire cooks. +</p> +<p> +I farmed and washed and ironed and I have cooked along some here in +Brinkley. +</p> +<p> +I am supported by my pension my husband left me. It ain't much but I +make out with it. It is Union Soldiers Pension. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WoodsAnna"></a> +[HW: Hot Springs] +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person interviewed: Anna Woods, 426 Grand Avenue<br> +</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'am. Come on in. Is you taking lists of folks for old age +pensions? Can you tell us what we going to get and when it's going to +come? No? Then—Oh, I see you is writing us up. Well maybe that will +help us to get attention. Cause we sure does need the pension. +</p> +<p> +To be sure I remembers slave days. My grandmother—she was give away in +the trading yard. She was aflicted. What was the matter with her? Was +she lame? No ma'am, she had the scrofula. So her mother was sold away +from her, but she was give away. She was give away to a woman named +Glover. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Glover was a old woman when I knowed her. She was an old, old +woman. She sort of studied before she'd say anything. She was a pretty +good old woman though, Mrs. Glover was. She wouldn't let her colored +folks be whipped. She wouldn't let me work in the field. Old Donovan +wanted me to work in the field—but she wouldn't let him make me. +Donovan was Mary's husband. Mary was Mrs. Glover's girl's girl. Mrs. +Glover's girl was named Kate. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Glover had a whole flock of slaves. My mother and another woman +named Sallie cooked and did the washing. Fannie, she was my sister, was +old Mrs. Glover's maid. Robert and Sally and Lucy—they was my brother +and sisters—all of them worked in the field. They had to begin early +and work late. They got them out way fore day. They worked them til +dark. +</p> +<p> +I remembers that Sally and Lucy used to wear boots and roll their skirts +up nearly to their waistses. Why—well you see sometimes it was muddy. +Did we raise rice—No, ma'am. We mostly raised corn and cotton, like +everybody else. +</p> +<p> +We lived near Natchez. No ma'am, I never see but one colored person +whipped. His name was Robert. They laid him down on his stomach to whip +him. Never did hear what he had done. Maybe he run off. They usually +whipped them for that. No ma'am. I was right. Mrs. Glover didn't let her +colored folks be whipped. Robert, you see, was Donovan's man. He didn't +belong to Mrs. Glover. Her folks never got whipped. +</p> +<p> +Maybe Robert run off. I don't know. The folks did one thing special to +keep them from running. They fastened a sort of yoke around they necks. +From it there run up a sort of piece and there was a bell on the top of +that. It was so high the folks who wore it couldn't reach the bell. But +if they run it would tinkle and folks could find them. I don't quite +know how it worked—I just slightly remembers. +</p> +<p> +No, ma'am, I was just sort of a little girl before the war. You might +say I was never a slave. Cause I didn't have to work. Mrs. Glover +wouldn't let me work in the field and I didn't have much work to do in +the house either. Mrs. Glover was an old widow woman, but she was shore +good. Miss Kate was her onliest child. Kate's daughter was named Mary. +</p> +<p> +Was I afraid of the soldiers? No ma'am. I wasn't. +</p> +<p> +Lots of them that came through were colored soldiers. I remember that +they wore long tailed coats. They had brass buttons on they coats. But +we had to move from Natchez. +</p> +<p> +First the soldiers run us off to Tennisaw Parish—an island there." (A +check on maps in the atlas of Encyclopedia Britannica reveals a Tenses +Parish, Louisiana—across the river and a few miles north of Natchez.) +"We couldn't even stay there. They drove us along, and finally we wound +up in Texas. +</p> +<p> +We wasn't there in Texas long when the soldiers marched in to tell us +that we was free. Seems to me like it was on a Monday morning when they +come in. Yes, it was a Monday. They went out to the field and told them +they was free. Marched them out of the fields. They come a'shouting. I +remembers one woman, she jumped up on a barrell and she shouted. She +jumped off and she shouted. She jumped back on again and shouted some +more. She kept that up for a long time, just jumping on a barrell and +back off again. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, we children played. I remembers that the grown folks used to +have church—out behind an old shed. They'd shout and they'd sing. We +children didn't know what it all meant. But every Monday morning we'd +get up and make a play house in an old wagon bed—and we'd shout and +sing too. We didn't know what it meant, or what we was supposed to be +doing. We just aped our elders. +</p> +<p> +When the war was over my brother, he drove the carriage, he drove the +white folks back to Natchez. But we didn't go—my family. We stopped +part way to Natchez. Never did see Miss Kate or Mrs. Glover again. Never +did see them again. Lots later my brother learned where we was. He came +back for us and took us to Natchez. But we never did see Mrs. Glover +again. +</p> +<p> +I lived on in Natchez. I worked for white folks—cooked for them. I did +a lot of traveling. Even went up into Virginia. Traveled most of the +time. I'd go with one family and when we'd get back, there'd be another +one who wanted me to go and take care of their children. +</p> +<p> +Been in Hot Springs since 1905. Worked for Dr. ---- first. Stayed right +in the house. Never did see such fine folks as Dr. ---- " (prominent +local surgeon) "and his wife. Then I worked for Mr. ---- " (prominent +realtor) "Yes, and I's worked at the Army and Navy Hospital too. Mighty +nice up there. Worked in the officer's mess—finest place up there. I's +worked for the officers too. Then I's worked for the Levi Hospital. +Worked for lots of folks. +</p> +<p> +I's worked for lots of folks and in lots of places. But I haven't got +anything now. How soon do you think they will begin paying us? I get +just $10 from the county every month. $5 of that goes for my house. +Folks gives me clothes, but if they'd only give me groceries too, I +could get along. When do you think they will begin to pay us? +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WoodsCal"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Cal Woods; R.F.D., Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I don't know zactly how old I is. I was good size boy when the war come +on. We all belonged to a man named John Woods. We lived in South +Carolina during slavery. Slavery was prutty bad itself but the bad time +come after the war. The land was hilly some red and some pore and sandy. +Had to plough a mule or horse. Hard to make a living. Some folks was +rich, had heap of slaves and some bout one family. Small farmer have 160 +acres and one family of slaves. When a man had one or two slave families +he treated em better an if he had a great big acreage and fifteen or +twenty families. The white folks trained the black man and woman. If he +have so many they didn't learn how to do but one or two things. Mas +generally they all worked in the fields in the busy seasons and +sometimes the white folks have to work out there too. Sometimes they get +in debt and have to sell off some slave to pay the debt. +</p> +<p> +"Things seemed heap mo plentiful. Before the war folks wore fine +clothes. They go to their nearest tradin point and sell cotton. They had +fine silk clothes and fine knives and forks. They would buy a whole case +o cheese at one time and a barrel of molasses. Folks eat more and worked +harder than they do now. +</p> +<p> +"Some folks was mean to their slaves and some slaves mean. It is lack it +is now, some folks good no matter what dey color, other folks bad. Black +folks never knowed there was freedom till they was fighting and going to +war. Some say they was fightin to save their slaves, some say the Union +broke. The slave never been free since he come to dis world, didn't know +nuthin bout freedom till they tole em bout it. +</p> +<p> +"I recollect bout the Ku Klux after the war. Some folks come over the +country and tell you you free and equal now. They tell you what to do an +how to run the country and then if you listen to them come the Ku Klux +all dressed half mile down the road. That Ku Klux sprung up after the +war bout votin an offis-holdin mong the white folks. The white folks +ain't then nor now havin no black man rulin over him. Them Ku Klux +walked bout on high sticks and drink all the water you have from the +spring. Seem lack they meddled a whole heap. Course the black folks +knowed they was white men. They hung some slaves and white Yankees too +if they be very mean. They beat em. Hear em hollowing and they hollow +too. They shoot all directions round and up an down the road. That's how +you know they comin close to yo house. If you go to any gatherins they +come break it up an run you home fast as you could run and set the dogs +on you. Course the dogs bite you. They say they was not goiner have +equalization if they have to kill all the Yankees and niggers in the +country. The masters sometime give em a home. My mother left John Woods +then. The family went back. He give her an my papa twenty acres their +lifetime. Where dey stayed on the old folks had a little at some places. +They didn't divide up no plantations I ever heard of. They never give em +no mules. If some tole em they would I know they sho didn't. Didn't give +em nuthin I tell you. My mother's name was Sylvia and papa's name was +Hack Woods. +</p> +<p> +"I come to Arkansas so my little boys would have a home. I had a little +home an sold it to come out here. Agents come round showin pictures how +big the cotton grow. They say it grow like trees out here. The children +climb the stalks an set on the limb lack birds to pick it. They show +pictures like that. Cotton basket way down under it on the ground. See +droves of wild hogs coming up, look big as mules. Men ridin em. No I +didn't know they said it was so fine. We come in freight cars wid our +furniture and everything we brought. We had our provision in baskets and +big buckets. It lasted till we passed Atlanta. We nearly starved the +rest of the way. When we did stop you never hear such a hollein. We come +two days and nights hard as we could come. We stayed up and eat, cooked +meat an eggs on the stove in the store till daybreak. Then they showed +us wha to go to our places the next day. I been here ever since. +</p> +<p> +"I hab voted. I done quit lettin votin bother me up. All I see it do is +give one fellow out of two or three a job both of them maybe ought to +have. The meanest man often gets lected. It the money they all after not +the work in it. I heard em say what all they do and when they got lected +they forgot to do all they say they would do. +</p> +<p> +"I never knowed bout no slave uprisins. Thed had to uprose wid rocks an +red clods. The black man couldn't shoot. He had no guns. They had so +much work they didn't know how to have a uprisin. The better you be to +your master the better he treat you. The white preachers teach that in +the church." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WoodsMaggie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Maggie Woods<br> + Brassfield, Ark.<br> + Deaner Farm.<br> +Age: 70</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My parents was Fannie and Alfred Douglas. They had three children, then +he died and my mother married a man name Thompson. My parents belong to +the Douglasses at Summerville, Tennessee. They had six children in their +family. +</p> +<p> +"I was born the second year of the surrender that make me seventy years +old. My folks was all field hands. They was all pure African stock. All +black folks like me. Grandma Liney Douglass said she was sold and +Grandpa was sold too. My own parents never was sold. The Douglass +men-folks whooped the slaves but they was good masters outside of that. +</p> +<p> +"They would steal off and have preachin' at night. Had preachin' nearly +all night sometimes. They'd hurry and get in home fore the day be +breakin'. From the way they talked they done more prayin' than +preachin'. +</p> +<p> +"Whenever they be sick they would send to the Douglasses to know what to +do. They would take them up to their house and doctor them or come down +to the quarters and wait on whoever be sick. They had some white doctors +about but not near enough. They trained black women to be midwives. +</p> +<p> +"I think my folks had enough to eat and clothes too I recken. They eat +meat to give them strength to work. My old stepdaddy always make us eat +piece of meat if we eat garden stuff. He say the meat have strength in +it. Cornbread, meat, peas and potatoes used to be the biggest part of +folks livin' in olden days. They had plenty milk. +</p> +<p> +"Children when I come on didn't have no use for money. We eat molasses. +Had a little candy once in a while. That be the best thing Santa Claus +would bring me. We get ginger cakes in our new stockings too. Santa +Claus been comin' ever since I been in the world. Seem like Christmas +never would come round agin. It don't seem near so long now. +</p> +<p> +"I was too young to know about freedom. We was livin' on Douglas farm +when George Flenol (white) come and brought us to Indian Bay. We worked +on Dick Mayo's place. I don't know what they expected from freedom but +I'm pretty sure they never got nothing. +</p> +<p> +"When the black folks come free then the Ku Klux took it up and made 'em +work and stay at home. I heard that some folks wanted to stay in the +road all the time. The Ku Klux nearly scared me to death to see pass by. +They never did bother us. +</p> +<p> +"I don't vote. Don't know nothing about it. I don't like the way that is +fixed for us to live now. We pay house rent and works as day laborers. +It makes the work too heavy at some times and no work to do nearly all +the time. It is making times hard. Cotton and corn choppin' time and +cotton pickin' time is all the times a woman like me can work. I raised +a shoat. I got no room for garden and chickens. +</p> +<p> +"I got one girl, she way from here, she sent me $2.00 for my Christmas. +</p> +<p> +"The young generation is weaker in body than us old folks has been. They +ain't been raised to hard work and they don't hold out. +</p> +<p> +"That is salve I'm making. What do it smell like? It smell like +chitlings. In that sack is the inside of the chitlings (hog manure). I +boil it down and strain it, then boll it down, put camphor gum and fresh +lard in it, boil it down low and pour it up. It is a green salve. It is +fine for piles, rub your back for lumbago, and swab out your throat for +sore throat. It is a good salve. I had a sore throat and a black woman +told me how to make it. It cures the sore throat right now. +</p> +<p> +"I live on what I am able to work and make. I never have got no help +from the government." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WordSam"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Sam Word, 1122 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'm a sure enough Arkansas man, born in Arkansas County near De Witt. +Born February 14, 1859, and belonged to Bill Word. I know Marmaduke come +down through Arkansas County and pressed Bill Word's son Tom into the +service. +</p> +<p> +"I 'member one song they used to sing called the 'Bonnie Blue Flag.' +</p> +<pre> +'Jeff Davis is our President + And Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + +'Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern rights, + Hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag + That bears a Single Star!'" +</pre> +<p> +(The above verse was sung to the tune of "The Bonnie Blue Flag." From +the Library of Southern Literature I find the following notation about +the original song and its author, Harry McCarthy: "Like Dixie, this +famous song originated in the theater and first became popular in New +Orleans. The tune was borrowed from 'The Irish Jaunting Car', a popular +Hibernian air. Harry McCarthy was an Irishman who enlisted in the +Confederate army from Arkansas. The song was written in 1861. It was +published by A.E. Blackmar who declared General Ben Butler 'made it very +profitable by fining every man, woman, or child who sang, whistled or +played it on any instrument twenty-five dollars.' Blackmar was arrested, +his music destroyed, and a fine of five hundred dollars imposed upon +him.") +</p> +<p> +"I stayed in Arkansas County till 1866. I was about seven years old and +we moved here to Jefferson County. Then my mother married again and we +went to Conway County and lived a few years, and then I come back to +Jefferson County, so I've lived in Jefferson County sixty-eight years. +</p> +<p> +"In Conway County when I was a small boy livin' on the Milton Powell +place, I 'member they sent me out in the field to get some peaches about +a half mile from the slave quarters. It was about three o'clock, late +summer, and I saw something in the tree—a black lookin' concern. Seem +like it got bigger the closer I got, and then just disappeared all of a +sudden and I didn't see it go. I know I went back without any peaches. +</p> +<p> +"And another thing I can tell you. In the spring of the year we was +hoein' and when they quit at night they'd leave the hoes in the field, +stickin' down in the ground. And next morning they wouldn't be where you +left 'em. You'd have to look for 'em and they'd be lyin' on top of the +ground and crossed just like sticks. +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you what I do know. When we was livin' in Conway County old +man Powell had about ten colored families he had emigrated from +Jefferson County. Our folks was the only colored people in that +neighborhood. And he had a white man that was a tenant on the place and +he died. Now my mother and his wife used to visit one another. In them +days the white folks wasn't like they are now. And so mother went there +to sit up with his wife. And while she was sittin' up the house was full +of people—white and colored. They begin to hear a noise about the +coffin. So they begin to investigate the worse it got and moved around +the room and it lasted till he was took out of the house. Now I've heard +white and colored say that was true. They never did see it but they +heard it. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think there is any ghosts now but they was in the past +generation. +</p> +<p> +"I know many times me and my stepfather would be pickin' cotton and my +dog would be up at the far end of the row and just before dark he'd +start barkin' and come towards us a barkin' and we never could see +anything. He'd do that every day. It was a dog named Natch—an English +bull terrier. He was give to me a puppy. He was a sure enough bulldog +and he could whip any dog I ever saw. He was an imported dog. +</p> +<p> +"I remember a house up in Conway County made out of logs—a two-story +one just this side of Cadron Creek on the Military Road. Then they +called it the Wire Road because the telegraph wire run along it. The +house was vacant after the people that owned it had died, and people +comin' along late at night would stop to spend the night, and in the +middle of the night they'd have to get out. Now I've heard that with my +own ears. There was a spring not far from the house. It had been a fine +house and was a beautiful place to stop. But in the night they'd hear +chairs rattlin' and fall down. It's my belief they had spooks in them +old days. +</p> +<p> +"Now I'll tell you another incident. This was in slave times. My mother +was a great hand for nice quilts. There was a white lady had died and +they were goin' to have a sale. Now this is true stuff. They had the +sale and mother went and bought two quilts. And let me tell you, we +couldn't sleep under 'em. What happened? Well, they'd pinch your toes +till you couldn't stand it. I was just a boy and I was sleepin' with my +mother when it happened. Now that's straight stuff. What do I think was +the cause? Well, I think that white lady didn't want no nigger to have +them quilts. I don't know what mother did with 'em, but that white lady +just wouldn't let her have 'em. +</p> +<p> +"Now I'm puttin' the oil out of the can—I mean that what I say is true. +People now will say they ain't nothin' to that story. At that time the +races wasn't 'malgamated. But people are different now—ain't like they +was seventy-five years ago. +</p> +<p> +"Visions? Well, now I'm glad you asked me that. I'll take pleasure in +tellin' you. Two years before I moved to this place I had a vision and I +think I saw every colored person that was ever born in America, I +believe. I was on the east side of my house and this multitude of people +was about four feet from me and they was as thick as sardines in a box +and they was from little tots up. Some had on derby hats and some was +bareheaded. I talked with one woman—a brown skinned woman. They was +sitting on seats just like circus seats just as far as my eyes could +behold. Looked like they reached clear up in the sky. That was when I +fust went blind. You've read about how John saw the multitude a hundred +forty and four thousand and I think that was about one-fourth of what I +saw. They was happy and talkin' and nothin' but colored people—no white +people. +</p> +<p> +"Another vision I had. I dreamed that the day that I lived to be +sixty-five, that day I would surely die. I thought the man that told me +that was a little old dried-up white man up in the air and he had scales +like the monkey and the cat weighed the cheese. I thought he said, 'That +day you will surely die,' and one side of the scales tipped just a +little and then I woke up. You know I believed this strong. That was in +1919 and I went out and bought a lot in Bellwood Cemetery. But I'm still +livin'. +</p> +<p> +"Old Major Crawley who owned what they called the Reader place on this +side of the river, four miles east of Dexter, he was supposed to have +money buried on his place. He owned it during slavery and after he died +his relatives from Mississippi come here and hired a carriage driver +named Jackson Jones. He married my second cousin. And he took 'em up +there to dig for the money, but I don't know if they ever found it. Some +people said the place was ha'nted." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WordSamB"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Sam Word<br> + 1122 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<p>[TR: Same birthdate as previous informant.]</p> +<br> +<p> +"I was born February 14, 1859. My birthplace was Arkansas County. Born +in Arkansas and lived in Arkansas seventy-eight years. I've kept up with +my age—didn't raise it none, didn't lower it none. +</p> +<p> +"I can remember all about the war, my memory's been good. Old man Bill +Word, that was my old master, had a son named Tom Word and long about in +'63 a general come and pressed him into the Civil War. I saw the Blue +and the Gray and the gray clothes had buttons that said C.S., that meant +secessioners. Yankees had U.S. on their buttons. Some of em come there +so regular they got familiar with me. Yankees come and wanted to hang +old master cause he wouldn't tell where the money was. They tied his +hands behind him and had a rope around his neck. Now this is the +straight goods. I was just a boy and I was cryin' cause I didn't want em +to hang old master. A Yankee lieutenant comes up and made em quit—they +was just the privates you know. +</p> +<p> +"My old master drove a ox wagon to the gold fields in California in '49. +That's what they told me—that was fore I was born. +</p> +<p> +"Good? Ben Word good? My God Amighty, I wish I had one-hundredth part of +what I got then. I didn't exist—I lived. +</p> +<p> +"Ben Word bought my mother from Phil Ford up in Kentucky. She was the +housekeeper after old mistress died. I'll tell you something that may be +amusing. Mother had lots of nice things, quilts and things, and kept em +in a chest in her little old shack. One day a Yankee soldier climbed in +the back window and took some of the quilts. He rolled em up and was +walking out of the yard when mother saw him and said, 'Why you nasty, +stinkin' rascal. You may you come down here to fight for the niggers, +and now you're stealin' from em.' He said, 'You're a G-D—liar, I'm +fightin' for $14 a month and the Union.' +</p> +<p> +"I member there was a young man named Dan Brown and they called him Red +Fox. He'd slip up on the Yankees and shoot em, so the Yankees was always +lookin' for him. He used to go over to Dr. Allen's to get a shave and +his wife would sit on the front porch and watch for the Yankees. One day +the Yankees slipped up in the back and his wife said, 'Lord, Dan, +there's the Yankees.' Course he run and they shot him. One of the +Yankees was tryin' to help him up and he said, 'Don't you touch me, call +Dr. Allen.' Yes ma'm, that was in Arkansas County. +</p> +<p> +"I never been anywhere 'cept Arkansas, Jefferson, and Conway Counties. I +was in Conway County when they went to the precinct to vote for or +against the Fort Smith & Little Rock Railroad. The precinct where they +went to vote was Springfield. It used to be the county seat of Conway +County. +</p> +<p> +"While the war was goin' on and when young Tom Word would come home from +school, he learned me and when the war ended, I could read in McGuffy's +Third Reader. After that I went to school three months for about four +years. +</p> +<p> +"Directly after Emancipation, the white men in the South had to take the +Oath of Allegiance. Old master took it but he hated to do it. Now these +are stubborn facts I'm givin' you but they's true. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom mother brought me here to Pine Bluff and put me in the +field. I picked up corn stalks and brush and carried water to the hands. +Children in them days worked. After they come from school, even the +white children had work to do. Trouble with the colored folks now, to my +way of thinkin', is they are top heavy with literary learning and +feather light with common sense and domestic training. +</p> +<p> +"I remember a song they used to sing daring the war: +</p> +<pre> +'Jeff Davis is our President + Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + </pre> +<p> + "And here's another one: +</p> +<pre> +'Hurrah for Southern rights, hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonny Blue Flag + That bore the single star.' +</pre> +<p> +"Yes, they was hants sixty years ago. The generation they was interested +has bred em out. Ain't none now. +</p> +<p> +"I never did care much for politics, but I've always been for the South. +I love the Southland. Only thing I don't like is they don't give a +square deal when it comes between the colored and the Whites. Ten years +ago, I was worth $15,000 and now I'm not worth fifteen cents. The real +estate men got the best of me. I've been blind now for four years and +all my wife and I have is what we get from the Welfare." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WorthyIke"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Ike Worthy<br> + 2413 W. 11th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Selma, Alabama on Christmas day and I'm goin' on 75. +</p> +<p> +"I can 'member old missis' name Miss Liza Ann Bussey. I never will +forget her name. Fed us in a trough—eighteen of us. Her husband was +named Jim Bussey, but they all dead now. +</p> +<p> +"When I got large enough to remember we went to Louisiana. I was sixteen +when we left Alabama—six hundred head of us. Dr. Bonner emigrated us +there for hisself and other white men. +</p> +<p> +"There was nine of us boys in my parents' family. We worked every day +and cleared land till twelve o'clock at night. On Saturday we played +ball and on Sunday we went to Sunday school. +</p> +<p> +"We worked on the shares—got half—and in the fall we paid our debts. +Sometimes we had as much as $150 in the clear. +</p> +<p> +"Most money I ever had was farmin'. I farmed 52 years and never did buy +no feed. Raised my own meat and lard and molasses. Had four milk cows +and fifteen to twenty hogs. You see, I had eight children in the family. +</p> +<p> +"Never went to school but one day in my life, then my father put us to +work. Never learned to read. You see everybody in the pen now'days got a +education. I don't think too much education is good for 'em. +</p> +<p> +"I was 74 Christmas day. +</p> +<p> +"Garland, Brewster—the sheriff and the judge—I missed them boys when +they was little. Worked at the brickyard. +</p> +<p> +"I got shot accidental and lost my right leg 32 years ago when I was +farmin'. I've chopped cotton and picked cotton with this peg-leg. Mr. +Emory say he don't see how I can do it but I goes right along. I made +$21 pickin' and $18 choppin' last year. I picked up until Thanksgiving +night. +</p> +<p> +"I worked at the Long-Bell Lumber Company since I had this peg-leg too. +I stayed in Little Rock 23 years. Had a wood yard and hauled wood. +</p> +<p> +"Yes ma'am, I voted the 'Publican ticket. No ma'am, I never did hold any +office. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what goin' come of the younger generation. To my idea I +don't think there's anything to 'em. They is goin' to suffer when all +the old ones is dead. +</p> +<p> +"I goes to the Zion Methodist Church. No ma'am, I'm not a preacher—just +a bench member." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WrightAlice"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Alice Wright<br> + 2418 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born way yonder in slavery time. I don't know what part of +Alabama nor exactly when, but I was born in slavery time and it was in +Alabama. My oldest boy would be fifty-six years old if he were living. +My father said he was born in slavery time and that I was born in +slavery time. I was a baby, my papa said, when he ran off from his old +master and went to Mississippi. He lived in the thickets for a year to +keep his old master from finding out where he was. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Father, Mother and Family</b></p> +<p> +"My father's name was Jeff Williams. He's been dead a long time. Nobody +living but me and my children. My mother's name was Malinda Williams. My +father had seven children, four girls and five boys. Four of the boys +were buried on the Cummins (?) place. It used to be the old place of old +Man Flournoy's. My oldest brother was named Isaac. +</p> +<p> +"I had sixteen children; four of them are still living—two boys and two +girls. The boys is married and the daughters is sick. No, honey, I can't +tell how many of em all was boys and girls. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>House</b></p> +<p> +"My folks lived right in the white folks' yard. I don't know what kind +of house it was. My mother used to cook and do for the white folks. She +caught her death of cold going backward and forward milking and so on. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How the Children were Fed</b></p> +<p> +"They'd put a trough on the floor with wooden spoons and as many +children as could get around that trough got there and eat, they would. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> +<p> +"Dolly and Evelyn were upstairs spinning thread and overheard the old +master saying that peace was declared but they didn't want the niggers +to know it. Father had them to throw their clothes out the windows. Then +he slipped out with them. Malinda Williams, my mother, came with them. +Dolly and Evelyn were my sisters. I don't know my master's name, but it +must have been Williams because all the slaves took their old master's +names when they were freed. I was a baby in my daddy's arms when he ran +away. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> +<p> +"I heard my papa talk about the patrollers. He said they used to run +them in many a time. That is the reason he had to cross the bridge that +night going over the Mississippi into Georgia. The slaves had been set +free in Georgia, and he wanted to get there from Alabama. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>What the Slaves Got</b></p> +<p> +"The slaves never got nothin' when they were freed. They just got out +and went to work for themselves. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> +<p> +"My father tended to the white folks' mules. He wasn't no soldier. When +he married my mother, he was only fifteen years old. His master told him +to go pick himself out a wife from a drove of slaves that were passing +through, and he picked out my mother. They married by stepping over the +broom. The old master pronounced them master and wife. +</p> +<p><b>Slave Droves</b></p> +<p> +"The drove passed through Alabama, but my father didn't know where it +came from nor where it went. They were selling slaves. They would pick +up a big lot of them somewhere, and they would drive them across the +country selling some every place they stopped. My master bought my +mother out of the drove. Droves came through very often. I don't know +where they came from. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>War Memories</b></p> +<p> +"My father remembered coming through Alabama. He remembered the soldiers +coming through Alabama. They didn't bother any colored people but they +killed a lot of white people, tore up the town and took some white +babies out and busted their brains out. That is what my father said. My +father died in 1910. He was pushing eighty then and maybe ninety. He had +a house full of grown children and grandchildren and great +grandchildren. He wasn't able to do no work when he died. It was during +the War that my father ran away into Georgia with me, too. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Breeding</b></p> +<p> +"My father said they put medicine in the water (cisterns) to make the +young slaves have more children. If his old master had a good breeding +woman he wouldn't sell her. He would keep her for himself. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Worship</b></p> +<p> +"When they were praying for peace they used to turn down the wash +kettles to keep the sound down. In the master's church, the biggest +thing that was preached to them was how to serve their master and +mississ. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Indians</b></p> +<p> +"My grandmother was a full-blood Indian. I don't know from what tribe. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Buried Treasure</b></p> +<p> +"People used to bury their money in iron pots and chests and things in +order to keep the soldiers from getting it. In Wabbaseka [HW: Ark.] +there they had money buried. They buried their money to keep the +soldiers from getting it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Ku Klux</b></p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux Klan came after freedom. They used to take the people out +and whip them. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Just After the War</b></p> +<p> +"Immediately after the War, papa farmed. Most of it was down at the +Cummins place. When he ran away to Georgia, he didn't stay there. He +left and came back to Mississippi. I don't know just when my papa came +to the Cummins' place. It was just after the War. After be left the +Cummins' place he worked at the Smith place. Then he was farming agent +for sometime for old man Cook in Jefferson County. He would see after +the hands. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Voting</b></p> +<p> +"I ain't never voted in my life. I know plenty men that used to vote but +I didn't. I never heard of no women voting. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Occupation</b></p> +<p> +"I used to do field work. I washed and ironed until I got too old to do +anything. I can't do anything now. I ain't able. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Support</b></p> +<p> +"I get the old age pension and the Welfare give me some commodities for +myself and my sick daughter. She ain't been able to walk for a year. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> +<p> +"I married Willis Wright in July 1901. He did farming mostly. When he +died in 1928, he was working at the Southern Oil Mill. He didn't leave +any property." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WrightHannahBrooks"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Hannah Brooks Wright<br> + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85<br> +Occupation: Laundress</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery times. I was born on Elsa Brooks' +plantation in Mississippi. I don't know what year 'twas but I know 'twas +in slavery times. +</p> +<p> +"I was a great big gal when the Yankees come through. I was Elsa Brooks' +house gal. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when a man come through to 'vascinate' all the chillun that +was born in slavery times. I cut up worse than any of 'em—I bit him. I +thought he was gwine cut off my arm. Old missis say our names gwine be +sent to the White House. Old missis was gwine around with him tryin' to +calm 'em down. +</p> +<p> +"And the next day the Yankees come through. The Lord have mercy! I +think I was 'bout twelve years old when freedom come. We used to ask old +missis how old we was. She'd say, 'Go on, if I tell you how old you is, +your parents couldn't do nothin' with you. Jus' tell folks you was born +in slavery times!' Gramma wouldn't tell me neither. She'd say, 'You +hush, you wouldn't work if you knowed how old you is.' +</p> +<p> +"I used to sit on the lever a many a day and drive the mule at the gin. +You don't know anything 'bout that, do you? +</p> +<p> +"I remember one time when the Yankees was comin' through. I was up on +top of a rail fence so I could see better. I said, 'Just look a there at +them bluebirds.' When the Yankees come along one of 'em said, 'You get +down from there you little son of a b----.' I didn't wait to climb down, +I jus' fell down from there. Old missis come down to the quarters in her +carriage—didn't have buggies in them days, just carriages—to see who +was hurt. The Yankees had done told her that one of her gals had fell +off the fence and got hurt. I said, 'I ain't hurt but I thought them +Yankees would hurt me.' She said, 'They won't hurt you, they is comin' +through to tell you you is free.' She said if they had hurt me she would +jus' about done them Yankees up. She said Jeff Davis had done give up +his seat and we was free. +</p> +<p> +"Our folks stayed with old missis as long as they lived. My mammy cooked +and I stayed in the house with missis and churned and cleaned up. Old +master was named Tom Brooks and her name was Elsa Brooks. Sometimes I +jus' called her 'missis.' +</p> +<p> +"Old missis told the patrollers they couldn't come on her place and +interfere with her hands. I don't know how many hands they had but I +know they had a heap of 'em. +</p> +<p> +"Sometimes missis would say it looked like I wanted to get away and +she'd say, 'Why, Hannah, you don't suffer for a thing. You stay right +here at the house with me and you have plenty to eat.' +</p> +<p> +"I was the oldest one in my mammy's family. +</p> +<p> +"I just went to school a week and mammy said they needed me at the +house. +</p> +<p> +"Then my daddy put me in the field to plow. Old missis come out one day +and say, 'Bill, how come you got Hannah plowin'? I don't like to see her +in the field.' He'd say, 'Well, I want to learn her to work. I ain't +gwine be here always and I want her to know how to work.' +</p> +<p> +"They had me throwin' the shickles (shuttles) in slavery times. I used +to handle the cyards (cards) too. Then I used to help clean up the milk +dairy. I'd be so tired I wouldn't know what to do. Old missis would say, +'Well, Hannah, that's your job.' +</p> +<p> +"We used to have plenty to eat, pies and cakes and custards. More than +we got now. +</p> +<p> +"I own this place if I can keep payin' the taxes. +</p> +<p> +"Old missis used to say, 'You gwine think about what I'm tellin' you +after I'm dead and gone.' +</p> +<p> +"Young folks call us old church folks 'old <i>ism</i> folks,' 'old fogies.' +They say, 'You was born in slavery times, you don't know nothin.' You +can't tell 'em nothin'. +</p> +<p> +"I follows my mind. You ain't gwine go wrong if you does what your mind +tells you." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YatesTom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Tom Yates, Marianna. Arkansas<br> +Age: 66</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in 1872 in Mississippi, on Moon Lake. Mama said she was +orphan. She was sold when she was a young woman. She said she come from +Richmond, Virginia to Charleston, South Carolina. Then she was brought +to Mississippi and married before freedom. She had two husbands. Her +owners was Master Atwood and Master Curtis Burk. I don't know how it +come about nor which one bought her. She had four children and I'm the +youngest. My sister lives in Memphis. +</p> +<p> +"My father was sold in Raleigh, North Carolina. His master was Tom +Yeates. I'm named fer some of them. Papa's name was William Yeates. He +told us how he come to be sold. He said they was fixing to sell grandma. +He was one of the biggest children and he ask his mother to sell him and +let grandma raise the children. She wanted to stay with the little ones. +He said he cried and cried long after they brought him away. They all +cried when he was sold, he said. I don't know who bought him. He must +have left soon after he was sold, for he was a soldier. He run away and +want in the War. He was a private and mustered out at DeValls Bluff, +Arkansas. That is how come my mother to come here. He died in 1912 at +Wilson, Arkansas. He got a federal pension, thirty-six dollars, every +three months. He wasn't wounded, or if he was I didn't hear him speak of +it. He didn't praise war." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungAnnie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Annie Young, 913 West Scull Street,<br> + Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My old master's name was Sam Knox. I 'members all my white people. My +mother was the cook. +</p> +<p> +"We had a good master and a good mistress too. I wish I could find some +of my master's family now. But after the war they broke up and went up +North. +</p> +<p> +"I 'member well the day my old master's son got killed. My mother was +workin' in the field and I know she come to the house a cryin'. I +'member well when we was out in the plum nursery and could hear the +cannons. My white girl Nannie told me 'Now listen, that's the war a +fightin'.' +</p> +<p> +"The soldiers used to come along and sometimes they were in a hurry and +would grab something to eat and go on and then sometimes they would sit +down to a long table. +</p> +<p> +"I could hear my great grandmother and my mother talkin' 'We'll be free +after awhile.' +</p> +<p> +"After the war my stepfather come and got my mother and we moved out in +the piney woods. My stepfather was a preacher and sometimes he was a +hundred miles from home. My mother hired out to work by the day. I was +the oldest of seven chillun and when I got big enough to work they +worked me in the field. When we cleaned up the new ground we got fifty +cents a day. +</p> +<p> +"I was between ten and twelve years old when I went to school. My first +teacher was white. But I tell you the truth, I learned most after my +children started to school. +</p> +<p> +"I worked twenty-three years for the police headquarters. I was janitor +and matron too. I washed and ironed too. I been here in Pine Bluff about +fifty or sixty years. +</p> +<p> +"If justice was done everybody would have a living. I earned the money +to buy this place and they come and wanted me to sign away my home so I +could get the old age pension but I just had sense enough not to do it. +I'm not goin' sign away my home just for some meat and bread." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungJohn1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: John Young<br> + 925 E. 15th Ave., Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 92</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Well, I don't know how old I is. I was born in Virginia, but my mother +was sold. She was bought by a speculator and brought here to Arkansas. +She brought me with her and her old master's name was Ridgell. We lived +down around Monticello. I was big enough to plow and chop cotton and +drive a yoke of oxen and haul ten-foot rails. +</p> +<p> +"Oh Lord, I don't know how many acres old master had. He had a +territory—he had a heap a land. I remember he had a big old carriage +and the carriage man was Little Alfred. The reason they called him that +was because there was another man on the place called Big Alfred. They +won't no relation—just happen to be the same name. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when the Yankees come and killed old master's hogs and +chickens and cooked 'em. There was a good big bunch of Yankees. They +said they was fightin' to free the niggers. After that I runned away and +come up here to Pine Bluff and stayed awhile and then I went to Little +Rock and jined the 57th colored infantry. I was the kittle drummer. We +marched right in the center of the army. We went from Little Rock to +Fort Smith. I never was in a big battle, just one little scrummage. I +was at Fort Smith when they surrendered and I was mustered out at +Leavenworth, Kansas. +</p> +<p> +"My grandfather went to war as bodyguard for his master, but I was with +the Yankees. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my grandmother's house. They nearly +scared us to death. I run and hid under the bed. They didn't do nothin', +just the looks of 'em scared us. I know they had the old folks totin' +water for 'em. Seemed like they couldn't get enough. +</p> +<p> +"After the war I come home and went to farmin'. Then I steamboated for +four years. I was on the Kate Adams, but I quit just 'fore it burned, +'bout two or three weeks. +</p> +<p> +"I never went to school a minute in my life. I had a chance to go but I +just didn't. +</p> +<p> +"No'm I can't remember nothin' else. It's been so long it done slipped +my memory." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungJohn2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: John Young<br> + 923 E. Fifteenth, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 89</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I know I was born in Arkansas. The first place I recollect I was in +Arkansas. +</p> +<p> +"I was a drummer in the Civil War. I played the little drum. The bass +drummer was Rheuben Turner. +</p> +<p> +"I run off from home in Drew County. Five or six of us run off here to +Pine Bluff. We heard if we could get with the Yankees we'd be free, so +we run off here to Pine Bluff and got with some Yankee soldiers—the +twenty-eighth Wisconsin. +</p> +<p> +"Then we went to Little Rock and I j'ined the fifty-seventh colored +infantry. I thought I was good and safe then. +</p> +<p> +"We went to Fort Smith from Little Rock and freedom come on us while we +was between New Mexico and Fort Smith. +</p> +<p> +"They mustered us out at Fort Leavenworth and I went right back to my +folks in Drew County, Monticello. +</p> +<p> +"I've been a farmer all my life till I got too old." +</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11422 ***</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: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States + From Interviews with Former Slaves + Arkansas Narratives, Part 7 + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: March 3, 2004 [EBook #11422] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOLK HISTORY OF SLAVERY *** + + + + +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 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 7</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="#VadenCharlie">Vaden, Charlie</a><br> +<a href="#VadenEllen">Vaden, Ellen</a><br> +<a href="#VanBurenNettie">Van Buren, Nettie</a><br> +<a href="#VaughnAdelaideJ">Vaughn, Adelaide J.</a><br> +<br><br> +<a href="#WadilleEmmeline">Wadille [TR: Waddille], Emmeline</a> + [TR: interview]<br> +<a href="#WaddellEmiline">Wadille (Waddell), Emmeline (Emiline)</a> + [TR: report]<br> +<a href="#WaldonHenry">Waldon, Henry</a><br> +<a href="#WalkerClara">Walker, Clara</a><br> +<a href="#WalkerHenry">Walker, Henry</a> + [TR: interview]<br> +<a href="#WalkerHenry2">Walker, Henry</a> + [TR: information]<br> +<a href="#WalkerJake1">Walker, Jake</a><br> +<a href="#WalkerJake2">Walker, Jake</a><br> +<a href="#WallaceWillie">Wallace, Willie</a><br> +<a href="#WarriorEvans">Warrior, Evans</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonAnna">Washington, Anna</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonEliza">Washington, Eliza</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonJennie">Washington, Jennie</a><br> +<a href="#WashingtonParrish">Washington, Parrish</a><br> +<a href="#WatsonCaroline">Watson, Caroline</a><br> +<a href="#WatsonMary">Watson, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WayneBart">Wayne, Bart</a><br> +<a href="#WeathersAnnieMae">Weathers, Annie Mae</a><br> +<a href="#WeathersCora">Weathers, Cora</a><br> +<a href="#WebbIshe">Webb, Ishe</a><br> +<a href="#WellsAlfred">Wells, Alfred</a><br> +<a href="#WellsDouglas">Wells, Douglas</a><br> +<a href="#WellsJohn">Wells, John</a><br> +<a href="#WellsSarah">Wells, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#WellsSarahWilliams">Wells, Sarah Williams</a><br> +<a href="#WesleyJohn">Wesley, John</a><br> +<a href="#WesleyRobert">Wesley, Robert</a><br> +<a href="#WesmolandMaggie">Wesmoland, Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#WestCalvin">West, Calvin</a><br> +<a href="#WestMaryMays">West, Mary Mays</a><br> +<a href="#WethingtonSylvester">Wethington, Sylvester</a><br> +<a href="#WhitakerJoe">Whitaker, Joe</a><br> +<a href="#WhiteJuliaA">White, Julia A.</a><br> +<a href="#WhiteJulia">White, Julia</a> + [TR: second interview]<br> +<a href="#WhiteLucy">White, Lucy</a><br> +<a href="#WhitemanDavid">Whiteman, David</a><br> +<a href="#WhitesideDolly">Whiteside, Dolly</a><br> +<a href="#WhitfieldJW">Whitfield, J.W.</a><br> +<a href="#WhitmoreSarah">Whitmore, Sarah</a><br> +<a href="#WilbornDock">Wilborn, Dock</a><br> +<a href="#WilksBell">Wilks, Bell</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsBell">Williams, Bell</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsCharley">Williams, Charley</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsCharlie">Williams, Charlie</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsColumbus">Williams, Columbus</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsFrank">Williams, Frank</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsGus">Williams, Gus</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsHenrietta">Williams, Henrietta</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsHenryAndrew">Williams, Henry Andrew (Tip)</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsJames">Williams, James</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsJohn">Williams, John</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsLillie">Williams, Lillie</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary1">Williams, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary2">Williams, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary3">Williams, Mary</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsMary3B">Williams, Mary</a> + [TR: second interview]<br> +<a href="#WilliamsRosenaHunt">Williams, Rosena Hunt</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsIIIWilliamBall">Williams, III, William Ball (Soldier)</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsonAnna">Williamson, Anna</a><br> +<a href="#WilliamsonCallieHalsey">Williamson, Callie Halsey</a><br> +<a href="#WillisCharlotte">Willis, Charlotte</a><br> +<a href="#WilsonElla">Wilson, Ella</a><br> +<a href="#WilsonRobert">Wilson, Robert</a><br> +<a href="#WindhamTom1">Windham, Tom</a> + [TR: interview]<br> +<a href="#WindhamTomB">Windham, Tom</a> + [TR: story]<br> +<a href="#WindhamTom2">Windham, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#WiseAlice">Wise, Alice</a><br> +<a href="#WiseFrank">Wise, Frank</a><br> +<a href="#WithersLucy">Withers, Lucy</a><br> +<a href="#WoodsAnna">Woods, Anna</a><br> +<a href="#WoodsCal">Woods, Cal</a><br> +<a href="#WoodsMaggie">Woods, Maggie</a><br> +<a href="#WordSam">Word, Sam</a><br> +<a href="#WordSamB">Word, Sam</a> + [TR: second interview]<br> +<a href="#WorthyIke">Worthy, Ike</a><br> +<a href="#WrightAlice">Wright, Alice</a><br> +<a href="#WrightHannahBrooks">Wright, Hannah Brooks</a><br> +<br><br> +<a href="#YatesTom">Yates, Tom</a><br> +<a href="#YoungAnnie">Young, Annie</a><br> +<a href="#YoungJohn1">Young, John</a><br> +<a href="#YoungJohn2">Young, John</a><br> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VadenCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Irene Robertson<br> +Subject: NEGRO LORE<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Charlie Vaden<br> +Place of Residence: Hazen, Green Grove, Ark.<br> +Occupation: Farming<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +Charlie Vaden's father ran away and went to the war to fight. He was a +slave and left his owner. His mother died when he was five years old but +before she died she gave Charlie to Mrs. Frances Owens (white lady). She +came to Des Arc and ran the City Hotel. He never saw his father till he +was grown. He worked for Mrs. Owens. He never did run with colored folks +then. He nursed her grandchildren, Guy and Ira Brown. When he was grown +he bought a farm at Green Grove. It consisted of a house and forty-seven +acres of land. He farmed two years. A fortune teller came along and told +him he was going to marry but he better be careful that they wouldn't +live together or he might "drop out." He went ahead and married like he +was "fixing" to do. They just couldn't get along, so they got divorced. +</p> +<p> +They had the wedding at her house and preacher Isarel Thomas (colored) +married them and they went on to his house. He don't remember how she +was dressed except in white and he had a "new outfit too." +</p> +<p> +Next he married Lorine Rogers at the Green Grove Church and took her +home. She fell off the porch with a tub of clothes and died from it just +about a year after they married. +</p> +<p> +He married again at the church and lived with her twenty years. They had +four girls and four boys. She died from the change of life. +</p> +<p> +The last wife he didn't live with either. She is still living. +</p> +<p> +Had another fortune teller tell his fortune. She said, "Uncle, you are +pretty good but be careful or you'll be walking around begging for +victuals." He said it had nearly come to that now except it hurt him to +walk. (He can hardly walk.) He believes some of what the fortune tellers +tell comes true. He has been on the same farm since 1887, which is +forty-nine years, and did fine till four years ago. He can't work, +couldn't pay taxes, and has lost his land. +</p> +<p> +He was paralized five months, helpless as a baby, couldn't dress +himself. An herb doctor settled at Green Grove and used herbs for tea +and poultices and cured him. The doctors and the law run him out of +there. His name was Hopkins from Popular Bluff, Missouri. +</p> +<p> +Charlie Vaden used to have rheumatism and he carried a buckeye in each +pants pocket to make the rheumatism lighter. He thought it did some +good. +</p> +<p> +He has a birthmark. Said his mother must have craved pig tails. He never +had enough pig tails to eat in his life. The butchers give them to him +when he comes to Hazen or Des Arc. He said he would "fight a circle saw +for a pig tail." +</p> +<p> +He can't remember any old songs or old tales. In fact he was too small +when his mother died (five years old). +</p> +<p> +He believes in herb medicine of all kinds but can't remember except +garlic poultice is good for neuralgia. Sassafras is a good tea, a good +blood purifier in the spring of the year. +</p> +<p> +He knows a weather sign that seldom or never falls. "Thunder in the +morning, rain before noon." "Seldom rains at night in July in Arkansas." +</p> +<p> +He has seen lots of lucky things but doesn't remember them. "It's bad +luck to carry hoes and rakes in the living house." "It's bad luck to spy +the new moon through bushes or trees." +</p> +<p> +He doesn't believe in witches, but he believes in spirits that direct +your course as long as you are good and do right. He goes to church all +the time if they have preaching. Green Grove is a Baptist church. He is +not afraid of dead people. "They can't hurt you if they are dead." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VadenEllen"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Ellen Vaden<br> + DeValls Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 83</h3> +<br> +<p>" +I am 83 years old. My mother come from Georgia. She left all her kin. +Our owner was Dave and Luiza Johnson. They had two girls and a +boy--Meely, Colly and Tobe. My mother's aunt come to Memphis in slavery +time and come to see us. She cooked and bought herself free. The folks +what owned her hired her out till they got paid her worth. She died in +Memphis. I never heard father say where he come from or who owned him. +He lived close by somewhere. +</p> +<p> +"I don't remember freedom. I know the Ku Klux was bad around Augusta, +Arkansas. One time when I was little a crowd of Ku Klux come at about +dusk. They told Dave Johnson they wanted water. He told them there was a +well full but not bother that woman and her children in the kitchen. +Dave Johnson was a Ku Klux himself. They went on down the road and met a +colored woman. She knowed their horses. She called some of them by name +and they let her alone. +</p> +<p> +"One time a colored man was settin' by the fire. His wife was sick in +bed. He seen the Ku Klux coming and said 'Lord God, here comes the +devil.' He run off. They didn't bother her. She told them she was sick. +When she got up and well she wouldn't live with that husband no more. +</p> +<p> +"Up at Bowens Ridge they took some colored men out one night and if they +said they was Republicans they let them go but if they said they was +Democrats they whooped them so hard they nearly killed some of them. +Some said they was bushwhackers or carpet baggers and not Ku Klux. +</p> +<p> +"I am a country-raised woman. I had a light stroke and cain't work in +the field. I get $8.00 and commodities. I like to live here very well. I +don't meddle with young folks business. Seems like they do mighty +foolish things to me. Times been changing ever since I come in this +world. It is the people cause the times to change. I wouldn't know how +to start to vote." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VanBurenNettie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Nettie Van Buren, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> + Ex school-teacher<br> +Age: 62</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My mother was named Isabel Porter Smith. She come from Springville. +Rev. Porter brought her to Mississippi close to Holly Springs. Then she +come to Batesville, Arkansas. He owned her. He was a circuit rider. I +think he was a Presbyterian minister. I heard her say they brought her +to Arkansas when she was a small girl. She nursed and cooked all the +time. After freedom she went with Reverend Porter's relatives to work +for them. I know so very little about what she said about slavery. +</p> +<p> +"My father was raised in North Carolina. His name was Jerry Smith and +his master he called Judge Smith. My father made all he ever had +farmin'. He knew how to raise cotton. He owned a home. This is his home +(a nice home on River Street in Clarendon) and 80 acres. He sold this +farm two miles from here after he had paralysis, to live on. +</p> +<p> +"My parents had two girls and two boys. They all dead but me. My +mother's favorite song was "Oh How I Love Jesus Because He First Loved +Me." They come here because my mother had a brother down here and she +heard it was such fine farmin' land. +</p> +<p> +"When I was a little girl my father was a Presbyterian so he sent me to +boardin' school in Cotton Plant and then sent me to Jacksonville, +Illinois. I worked my board out up there. Mrs. Dr. Carroll got me a +place to work. My sister learned to sew. She sewed for the public till +her death. She sewed for both black and white folks. I stretches +curtains now if I can get any to stretch and I irons. It give me +rheumatism to wash. I used to wash and iron. +</p> +<p> +"My husband cooks on a Government derrick boat. He gets $1.25 and his +board. They have the very best things to eat. He likes the work if he +can stay well. He can cook pies and fancy cookin'. They like that. Say +they can't hardly get somebody work long because they want to be in town +every night. +</p> +<p> +"We have one child. I used to be a primary teacher here at Clarendon. +</p> +<p> +"I never have voted. My husband votes but I don't know what he thinks +about it. +</p> +<p> +"I try to look at the present conditions in an encouraging way. The +young people are so extravagant. The old folks in need. The thing most +discouraging is the strangers come in and get jobs home folks could do +and need and they can't get jobs and got no money to leave on nor no +place to go. People that able to work don't work hard as they ought and +people could and willin' to work can't get jobs. Some of the young folks +do sure live wild lives. They think only of the present times. A few +young folks are buying homes but not half of them got a home. They work +where they let 'em have a room or a house. Different folks live all +kinds of ways." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="VaughnAdelaideJ"></a> +<h3>Name of Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person Interviewed: Adelaide J. Vaughn<br> + 1122 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 69</h3> +<br> + +<p> +"I was born in Huntsville, Alabama. My mother brought me from there when +I was five years old. She said she would come to Arkansas because she +had heard so much talk about it. But when she struck the Arkansas line, +she didn't like it and she wanted to go back. I have heard her say why +but I don't remember now; I done forgot. She thought she wouldn't like +it here, but she did after she stayed a while. +</p> +<p> +"My bronchial tubes git all stopped up and make it hard for me to talk. +Phlegm gits all around. I been bothered with them a good while now. +</p> +<p> +"My mother, she was sold from her father when she was four years old. +The rest of the children were grown then. Master Hickman was the one who +bought her. I don't know the one that sold her. Hickman had a lot of +children her age and he raised her up with them. They were nice to her +all the time. +</p> +<p> +"Once the pateroles came near capturing her. But she made it home and +they didn't catch her. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Candle hired her from her master when she was about eighteen years +old. He was nice to her but his wife was mean. Just because mother +wouldn't do everything the other servants said Mis' Candle wanted to +whip her. Mother said she knew that Mis' Candle couldn't whip her alone. +But she was 'fraid that she would have Sallie, another old Negro woman +slave, and Kitty, a young Negro woman slave, to help whip her. +</p> +<p> +"One day when it was freezing cold, she wanted mother to stand out in +the hall with Sallie and Clara and wash the glasses in boiling hot +water. She was making her do that because she thought she was uppity and +she wanted to punish her. When mother went out, she rattled the dishes +'round in the pan and broke them. They was all glasses. Mis' Candle +heard them breaking and come out to see about it. She wanted to whip +mother but she was 'fraid to do it while she was alone; so she waited +till her husband come home. When he come she told him. He said she +oughtn't to have sent them out in the cold to wash the glasses because +nobody could wash dishes outside in that cold weather. +</p> +<p> +"The first morning she was at Mis' Candle's, they called her to eat and +they didn't have nothing but black molasses and corn bread for mother's +meal. The other two ate it but mother didn't. She asked for something +else. She said she wasn't used to eating that--that she ate what her +master and mistress ate at home. +</p> +<p> +"Mis' Candle didn't like that to begin with. She told my mother that she +was a smart nigger. She told mother to do one thing and then before she +could do it, she would tell her do something else. Mother would just go +on doing the first thing till she finished that, and Mis' Candle would +git mad. But it wasn't nobody's fault but her own. +</p> +<p> +"She asked mother to go out and git water from the spring on a rainy +day. Mother wouldn't go. Finally mother got tired and went back home. +Her mistress heard what she had to tell her about the place she'd been +working. Then she said mother did right to quit. She had worked there +for three or four months. They meant to keep her but she wouldn't stay. +Mis' Hickman went over and collected her money. +</p> +<p> +"When mother worked out, the people that hired her paid her owners. Her +owners furnished her everything she wanted to eat and clothes to wear, +and all the money she earned went to them. +</p> +<p> +"Mis' Candle begged Mr. Hickman to let him have mother back. He said +he'd talk to his wife and she wouldn't mistreat her any more but mama +said that she didn't want to go back and Mrs. Hickman said, 'No, she +doesn't want to go back and I wouldn't make her.' And the girls said, +'No, mama, don't let her go back.' And Mis' Hickman said, 'No, she was +raised with my girls and I am not going to let her go back.' +</p> +<p> +"The Hickmans had my mother ever since she was four years old. My +grandfather was allowed to go a certain distance with her when she was +sold away from him. He walked and carried her in his arms. Mama said +that when he had gone as far as they would let him go, he put her in the +wagon and turned his head away. She said she wondered why he didn't look +at her; but later she understood that he hated so bad to 'part from her +and couldn't do nothing to prevent it that he couldn't bear to look at +her. +</p> +<p> +"Since I have been grown I have worked with some people at Newport. I +stayed with them there and married there, and had all my children there. +</p> +<p> +"I heard the woman I lived with, a woman named Diana Wagner, tell how +her mistress said, 'Come on, Diana, I want you to go with me down the +road a piece.' And she went with her and they got to a place where there +was a whole lot of people. They were putting them up on a block and +selling them just like cattle. She had a little nursing baby at home and +she broke away from her mistress and them and said, 'I can't go off and +leave my baby.' And they had to git some men and throw her down and hold +her to keep her from goin' back to the house. They sold her away from +her baby boy. They didn't let her go back to see him again. But she +heard from him after he became a young man. Some one of her friends that +knowed her and knowed she was sold away from her baby met up with this +boy and got to questioning him about his mother. The white folks had +told him his mother's name and all. He told them and they said, 'Boy, I +know your mother. She's down in Newport.' And he said, 'Gimme her +address and I'll write to her and see if I can hear from her.' And he +wrote. And the white people said they heard such a hollering and +shouting goin' on they said, 'What's the matter with Diana?' And they +came over to see what was happening. And she said, 'I got a letter from +my boy that was sold from me when he was a nursing baby.' She had me +write a letter to him. I did all her writing for her and he came to see +her. I didn't get to see him. I was away when he come. She said she was +willing to die that the Lord let her live to see her baby again and had +taken care of him through all these years. +</p> +<p> +"My father's name was Peter Warren and my mother was named Adelaide +Warren. Before she was married she went by her owner's name, Hickman. My +daddy belonged to the Phillips but he didn't go in their name. He went +in the Warren's name. He did that because he liked them. Phillips was +his real father, but he sold him to the Warrens and he took their name +and kept it. They treated him nice and he just stayed on in their name. +He didn't marry till after both of them were free. He met her somewheres +away from the Hickman's. They married in Alabama. +</p> +<p> +"Mama was born and mostly reared in Virginia and then come to Alabama. +That's where I was born, in Alabama. And they left there and came here. +I was four years old when they come here. +</p> +<p> +"I never did hear what my father did in slavery time. He was a twin. The +most he took notice of he said was his brother and him settin' on an old +three-legged stool. And his mother had left some soft soap on the fire. +His brother saw that the pot was goin' to turn over and he jumped up. My +father tried to get up too but the stool turned over and caught him, +caught his little dress and held him and the hot soap ran over his dress +and on to his bare skin. It left a big burn on his side long as he +lived. His mother was there close to the house because she knowed the +soap was on and those two little boys were in there. She heard him +crying and ran in and carried him to her master. He got the doctor and +saved him. My father's mother didn't do nothing after that but 'tend to +that baby. Her master loved those little boys and kept her and <u>didn't +sell her because of them</u>. (The underscoring is the interviewer's--ed.) +That was his last master--Warren. Warren loved him more than his real +father did. Warren said he knew my father would never live after he had +such a burn. But he did live. They never did let him do much work after +the accident. +</p> +<p> +"I think my father's master, Warren--I can't remember his first +name--farmed for a living. +</p> +<p> +"My father and mother had five children. I don't know how many brothers +my father had. I have heard my mother say she had four sisters. I never +heard her say nothin' 'bout no brothers--just sisters. +</p> +<p> +"I had six children. Got three living and three dead. They was grown +though when they died. I had three boys and three girls. I got two boys +living and one girl. The boy in St. Louis does pretty well. But the +other in Little Rock doesn't have much luck. If he'd get out of Little +Rock, he would find more to do. The one in St. Louis don't make much now +because they done cut wages. He's a dining-car waiter. This girl what's +here, she does all she can for me. She has a husband and my husband is +dead. He's been dead a long time. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to Bethel A.M.E. Church. You know where that is. Rev. Campbell +is a good man. We had him eight years. Then we got Brother Wilson one +year and then they put Campbell back. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what to think of these young people. Some of them is +running wild. +</p> +<p> +"When I was working for myself, I was generally a maid. But that is been +a long time ago. I washed and ironed and done laundry work when I was +able a long time ago. But I can't do it now. I can't do it for myself +now. I washed for myself a little and I got the flu and got in bad +health. That was about four years ago. I reckon it was the flu; I never +did have no doctor. When I take the least little cold, it comes back on +me." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +This old lady appears nearer eighty than sixty-nine, and she speaks with +the sureness of an eyewitness. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WadilleEmmeline"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Blanche Edwards <br> +Person interviewed: Emmeline Waddille (deceased)<br> + Lonoke County, Arkansas<br> +Age: 106</h3> +<br> +<p> +She immigrated with her owner, L.W.C. Waddille, to Lonoke County in +1851, coming to Hickory Plains and then to Brownsville. They moved from +Hayburn, Georgia in a covered wagon drawn by oxen. +</p> +<p> +She lived with a great-granddaughter, Mrs. John High, seven miles north +of Lonoke, until 1932, when she died. She had nursed six generations of +the Waddille family. She was born a deaf-mute but her hearing and speech +were restored many years ago when lightening struck a tree under which +she was standing. +</p> +<p> +Emmeline told of how they would stop for the night on the rough journey, +and while the men fed the stock, the women and slaves would cook the +evening meal of hoecake, fried venison, and coffee. The women slept in +the wagons and the men would sleep on the creek watching for wild life. +With other pioneers, they suffered all the hardships and dangers +incident to the settling of the new country more than three-fourths of a +century ago. +</p> +<p> +Emmeline always had good care. She worked hard and faithfully and was +amply rewarded. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WaddellEmiline"></a> +[HW: High] +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Blanche Edwards<br> +ADDRESS—Lonoke, Arkansas<br> +DATE—October 20, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—An Old Slave<br> +</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—Mrs. John G. High +<big><b>[TR: Emiline Waddell]</b></big>, living nine miles north of Lonoke, Arkansas.</p> + +<p>2. Date and time of interview—October 20, 1938.</p> + +<p>3. Place of interview—At the home of Mrs. John G. High, nine miles +north of Lonoke.</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>6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.</p> + +<br> +<p><b>Text of Interview</b></p> +<p> +Emiline Waddell, a former slave of the L.W. Waddell family, lived to be +106 years old, and was active up to her death. +</p> +<p> +She was born a slave in 1826 at Haben county, Georgia, a slave of +Claybourne Waddell, who emigrated to Brownsville, in 1851, in covered +wagons, oxen drawn. +</p> +<p> +Her "white folks" were three weeks making the trip from the ferry across +the Mississippi to old Brownsville; after traveling all day through the +bad and boggy woods, at the end of their rough journey at eventide, the +movers dismounted and began hasty preparations for the night. While the +men were feeding the stock and providing temporary quarters, the women +assisted the slaves in preparing the evening meal, of hoe-cake, fried +venison and coffee. Then the women and children would sleep in the +wagons while the men kept watch for wild life. +</p> +<p> +Mammy Emiline was a faithful old black mammy, true to life and +traditions, and refused her freedom, at the close of the war, as wanted +to stay and raise "Old Massa's chilluns," which she did, for she was +nursing her sixth generation in the Waddell family at the time of her +death. Even to that generation there was a close tie between the +southern child and his or her black mammy. A strange almost unbelievable +thing happened to Emiline; she was born a deaf mute, but her hearing and +speech was restored many years before her death, when lightening struck +a tree under which she was standing. +</p> +<p> +Superstitious beliefs were strong in her and her tales of "hants" were +to "her little white chilluns", really true but hair-raising. Then she +would talk and live again the "days that are no more", telling them of +the happy prosperous, sunny land, in her negro dialect, and then tell of +the ruin and desolation behind the Yankees; the hard times my white +folks had in the reconstruction days—negro and carpetbag rule; then +give them glimpses of good—much courage, some heart and human feeling; +perhaps ending with an outburst of the negro spiritual, her favorite +being, "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home." +</p> +<p> +After a faithful service of 106 years, Emiline died in 1932 at the home +of Mrs. John G. High, a great-granddaughter of L.W.C. Waddell living +nine miles north of Lonoke, and the grown up great-great-grandchildren +still miss Mammy. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WaldonHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Waldon<br> + 816 Walnut Street. North Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was plowing when they surrendered. I had just learned to plow, and +was putting up some land. My young master come home and was telling me +the War was ended and we was all free. +</p> +<p> +"I was born in Lauderdale County, Mississippi. I think it was about +1854. My father's name [HW: was] ----, my mother's [HW: was] ----, I +knew them both. +</p> +<p> +"My mother belonged to Sterling and my father belonged to a man named +Huff—Richmond Huff. +</p> +<p> +"We lived in Lauderdale County. Huff wouldn't sell my father and my +people wouldn't sell my mother. They lived about a mile or so apart. +They didn't marry in them days. The niggers didn't, that is. Father +would just come every Saturday night to see my mother. His cabin was +about three miles from her's. We moved from Lauderdale County to Scott +County, Mississippi, and that separated mama and papa. They never did +meet again. Of course, I mean it was the white people that moved, but +they carried mama and us with them. Papa and mama never did meet again +before freedom, and they didn't meet afterwards. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had twelve children—eight girls and four boys. She had one +by a man named Peter Smith. She was away from her husband then. She had +four by my father—two boys and two girls; my father's name was Peter +Huff. My mother's name was Mary Sterling. I never did see my father no +more after we moved away from him. +</p> +<p> +"My father made cotton and corn, plowed and hoed in slavery time. His +old master had seventy-five or eighty hands. His old master treated him +pretty rough. He whipped them about working. He never hired no overseer +over them. When he whipped them he took their shirts off and whipped +them on their naked backs. He cut the blood out of some of them. He +never did rub no salt nor vinegar in their wounds. His youngest son done +his overseeing. He would whip them sometime but he wasn't tight on them +like some that I knowed. +</p> +<p> +"A fellow by the name of Jim Holbert was mean to his slaves as a man +could be. He would whip them night and day. Work them till dark; then +they would eat supper. Cook their own supper. Had nothing to cook but a +little meat and bread and molasses. Then they would go back and bale up +three or four bales of cotton. Some nights they work till twelve o'clock +then get up before daylight—'round four o'clock—and cook their +breakfast and go to work again. That was on Jim Holbert and Lard Moore's +place. Them was two different men and two different places—plantations. +They whipped their slaves a good deal—always beating down on somebody. +They made their backs sore. Their backs would be bleeding just like they +cut it with knives. Then they would wash it down with water and salt. +</p> +<p> +"On my master's farm, each one cooked in his own cabin. While the hands +were working, my master left one child, the largest, stay there and +taken care of the little ones. +</p> +<p> +"They had bloodhounds too; they'd run you away in the woods. Send for a +man that had hounds to track you if you run away. They'd run you and bay +you, and a white man would ride up there and say, 'If you hit one of +them hounds, I'll blow your brains out.' He'd say 'your damn brains.' +Them hounds would worry you and bite you and have you bloody as a beef, +but you dassent to hit one of them. They would tell you to stand still +and put your hands over your privates. I don't guess they'd have killed +you but you believed they would. They wouldn't try to keep the hounds +off of you; they would set them on you to see them bite you. Five or six +or seven hounds bitin' you on every side and a man settin' on a horse +holding a doubled shotgun on you. +</p> +<p> +"My old miss's sister hired slave women out to old Jim Holbert once. One +of them was in a delicate state, and they dug a hole and put her stomach +down in it and whipped her till she could hardly walk. +</p> +<p> +"Holbert lived to see the niggers freed. All of his slaves left him +pretty well when freedom come. He managed to hold on to his money. He +didn't go to the War. He was pretty old. He had two sons in the War—his +wife had one in there and he had one. One of them got wounded but he +didn't die. +</p> +<p> +"My mistress's oldest son, Ed Sterling, got shot in the Civil War. He +got shot right in the side at Franklin, Tennessee. It tore his whole +side off—near about killed him. But he lived to ride paterole. He was +mean. Catch a man in bed with his wife at night, he'd whip him and make +him go home. He was the meanest man in the world. All the other sons +were better than he was. His name was Ed Sterling. +</p> +<p> +"The first thing I remember was work. You weren't allowed to remember +nothing but work in slave times and you got whipped about that. You +weren't allowed to go nowhere but carry the mules out to the pasture to +eat grass. Sometimes they jump the fence and go over in the field and +eat corn. Me and another fellow named Sandy used to watch them all day +Sunday. Watching the mules and working in the fields through the week +was the first work I remember. Me and my sister worked on one row. The +two of us made a hand. She is down in Texas somewheres now. They taken +her from old lady Sterling's place. She give them to her son and he +carried them down in Texas. He had a broken leg and never did go to the +war. If he did, I never knowed nothing about it. +</p> +<p> +"None of the masters never give me anything. None of them as I knows of +never give anything to any of the slaves when they freed 'em. Never give +a devilish thing. Told them that they was free as they was and that they +could stay there and help them make crops if they wanted to. The biggest +part of them stayed. The rest went away. Their husbands taken them away. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the war my mother married an old fellow who used to be old +Holbert's nigger driver. He stayed on Sterling's place one night. He +stayed there a year. Then he married my mother and went to old Holbert's +place and of course, we had to go too. I stayed there and worked for +him. And my mama too and the two youngest sisters and the youngest +brother stayed with me. I run away from him in '86. I went down the +railroad about five miles and an old colored fellow give me a job. He +used to belong to the railroad boss. +</p> +<p> +"I worked nearly two years on that railroad; then I left and come on +down to Arkansas. I have been right here on this spot about forty years. +I don't know how long it is been since I first come here, but it is been +a long time ago. I paid fire insurance on this place for thirty-nine +years. I lived over the river before I came to North Little Rock. I +worked for the railroad company thirty-eight years. It's been fifteen +years since I was able to work—maybe longer. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to Little Bethel Church (A.M.E.) here in North Little Rock. I +been a member of that church more than thirty-five years. +</p> +<p> +"I have been married twice, and I am the father of three children that +are living and two that dead—Tommy, Jim, Ewing, Mayzetta, and the baby. +He was too young to have a name when he died. +</p> +<p> +"I think things is worse than they ever was. Everything we get we have +to pay for, and then pay for paying for it. If it wasn't for my wife I +could hardly live because I don't get much from the railroad company." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerClara"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person interviewed: Aunt Clara Walker Aged: 111<br> + Home: "Flatwoods" district, Garland County. + Own property. +</h3> +<br> +<p><b>Story by Aunt Clara Walker</b></p> +<p> +"You'll have to wait a minute ma'am. Dis cornbread can't go down too +fas'. Yes ma'am, I likes cornbread. I eats it every meal. I wouldn't +trade just a little cornbread for all de flour dat is. +</p> +<p> +Where-bouts was I born? I was born right here in Arkansas. Dat is it was +between an on de borders of it an dat state to de south—yes ma'am, +dat's right, Louisiana. My mother was a slave before me. She come over +from de old country, she was a-runnin' along one day front of a—a—dat +stripedy animal—a tiger? an' a man come along on an elephant and scoop +her up an' put her on a ship. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am. My name's Clara Walker. I was born Clara Jones, cause my +pappy's name was Jones. But lots of folks called me Clara Cornelius, +cause Mr. Cornelius was de man what owned me. Did you ever hear of a +child born wid a veil over its face? Well I was one of dem! What it +mean? Why it means dat you can see spirits an' ha'nts, an all de other +creatures nobody else can see. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, some children is born dat way. You see dat great grandchild +of mine lyin' on de floor? He's dat way. He kin see 'em too. Is many of +'em around here? Lawsey dey's as thick as piss-ants. What does dey look +like? Some of 'em looks like folks; an' some of 'em looks like hounds. +When dey sees you, dey says "Howdy!" an' if you don't speak to 'em dey +takes you by your shoulders an dey shakes you. Maybe dey hits you on de +back. An' if you go over to de bed an lies in de bed an' goes to sleep, +dey pulls de cover off you. You got to be polite to 'em. What makes 'em +walk around? Well, I got it figgured out dis way. Dey's dissatisfied. +Dey didn't have time to git dey work done while dey was alive. +</p> +<p> +Dat greatgrandchild of mine, he kin see 'em too. Now my eight +grandchildren an' my three children what's alivin' none of 'em can see +de spirits. Guess dat greatgrandchild struck way back. I goes way back. +My ol' master what had to go to de war, little 'fore it was over told me +when he left dat I was 39 years old. Somebody figgured it out for me dat +I's 111 now. Dat makes me pretty old, don't it? +</p> +<p> +There was another fellow on a joinin' plantation. He was a witch doctor. +Brought him over from Africa. He didn't like his master, 'cause he was +mean. So he make a little man out of mud. An' he stick thorns in its +back. Sure 'nuff, his master got down with a misery in his back. An' de +witch doctor let de thorn stay in de mud-man until he thought his master +had got 'nuff punishment. When he tuck it out, his master got better. +</p> +<p> +Did I got to school. No ma'am. Not to book school. Dey wouldn't let +culled folks git no learnin'. When I was a little girl we skip rope an' +play high-spy (I Spy). All we had to do was to sweep de yard an go after +de cows an' de pigs an de sheep. An' dat was fun, cause dey was lots of +us children an we all did it together. +</p> +<p> +When I was 13 years old my ol' mistress put me wid a doctor who learned +me how to be a midwife. Dat was cause so many women on de plantation was +catchin' babies. I stayed wid dat doctor, Dr. McGill his name was, for 5 +years. I got to be good. Got so he'd sit down an' I'd do all de work. +</p> +<p> +When I come home, I made a lot o' money for old miss. Lots of times, +didn't sleep regular or git my meals on time for three—four days. Cause +when dey call, I always went. Brought as many white as culled children. +I's brought most 200, white an' black since I's been in Hot Springs. +Brought a little white baby—to de Wards it was—dey lived jest down de +lane—brought dat baby 'bout 7 year ago. +</p> +<p> +I's brought lots of 'em an' I ain't never lost a case. You know why. +It's cause I used my haid. When I'd go in, I'd take a look at de woman, +an' if it was beyond me, I'd say, 'Dis is a doctor case. Dis ain't no +case for a midwife. You git a doctor.' An' dey'd have to get one. I'd +jes' stan' before de lookin' glass, an' I wouldn't budge. Dey couldn't +make me. +</p> +<p> +I made a lot of money for ol' miss. But she was good to me. She give me +lots of good clothes. Those clothes an my mother's clothes burned up in +de fire I had a few years ago right on dis farm. Lawsey I hated loosin' +dose clothes I had when I was a girl more dan anything I lost. An' I +didn't have to work in de fields. In between times I cooked an' I would +jump in de loom. Yes, ma'am I could weave good. Did my yards every day. +I weave cloth for dresses—fine dresses you would use thread as thin as +dat you sews wid today—I weaves cloth for underclothes, an fo +handkerchiefs an for towels. Den I weaves nits and lice. What's +dat—well you see it was kind corse cloth de used for clothes like +overalls. It mas sort of speckeldy all over—dat's why dey called it +nits and lice. +</p> +<p> +Law, I used to be good once, but after I got all burned up I wasn't good +for so much. It happened dis way. A salt lick was on a nearby +plantation. Ever body who wanted salt, dey had to send a hand to help +make it. I went over one day—an workin' around I stepped on a live +coal. I move quick an' I fall plum over into a salt vat. Before dey got +me out I was pretty near ruined. +</p> +<p> +What did dey do? Dey killed a hog—fresh killed a hog. An' dey fry up de +fat—fry it up wid some of de hog hairs an' dey greesed me good. An' it +took all de fire out of de burns. Dey kept me greezed for a long time. I +was sick nearly six months. Dey was good to me. +</p> +<p> +An one day, young miss, she married. Ol' miss give me to her 'long of 23 +others. Twenty four was all she could spare an' keep some for herself an +save enough for de other children. We went to California. Young Miss was +good, but her husband was mean. He give me de only white folks whippin I +ever had. Ol' miss never had to whip her slaves. I was tryin' to cook on +an earth stove—dat's why it happen. Did you ever hear of an earth +stove? Well, dey make sort of drawers out of dirt. You burn wood in 'em. +After you git used to it you kin cook on it good. But dat day I was busy +an' I burned de biscuits. An' he whip me. +</p> +<p> +I run off. I knew in general de way home. When I come to de Brazos river +it looked most a mile across. But I jump in an' I swim it. One day I +done found a pearl handled pocket knife. A few days later I meet up wid +a white boy. An' he say its his knife, an' I say, 'White boy, I know dat +ain't your knife, an' you know it ain't. But if you'll write me out a +free pass, I'll give it to you.' An' so he wrote it. After dat, I could +walk right up to de front gates an ask for somthin' to eat. Cause I had +a paper sayin' I was Clara Jones an' I was goin' home to my ol' mistress +Mis' Cornelius. Please paterollers to leave me alone. An' folks along de +way, dey'd take me in an' feed me. Dey'd give me a place to stay an fix +me up a lunch to take along. Dey'd say, "Clara, you's a good nigger. +You's a goin' home to your ol' miss, so we's goin' to do for you." +</p> +<p> +An' I got within five miles of home before dey catch me. An' my ol' miss +won't let me go back. She keep me an' send another one in my place. An' +de war kept on, an ol' massa had to go. An' word come dat he been +killed. +</p> +<p> +Yes, 'em, some folks run off, an' some of 'em stayed. Finally ol' miss +refugeed a lot of us to California. What is it to refugee. Well, you +see, suppose you was afraid dat somebody go in' to take your property +an' you run 'em away off somewhere—how you come to know. +</p> +<p> +When de war was over, young miss she come in an she say, 'Clara, you's +as free as I am.' 'No, I ain't.' says I. 'Yes, you is,' says she. 'What +you goin' to do?' 'I's goin' to stay an' work for you.' says I. 'No' +says she, 'you ain't cause I can't pay you.' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll go +home to see my old mother.' 'Tell you what,' says she, 'I ain't got nuff +money to send you, only part—so you go down to whar' dey is a'pannin' +gold. You kin git a Job at $2.00 per day.' +</p> +<p> +Many's a day I've stood in water up to my waist pannin' gold. In dem +days dey worked women jest like men. I worked hard, an' young miss took +care of me. When I got ready to come home I bought my stage fare an' I +carried $300 on me back to my ol' mother. +</p> +<p> +De trip took six weeks. Everywhere de stage would stop young miss had +writ a note to somebody and de stage coach men give it to 'em an dey +took care of me—good care. +</p> +<p> +When I got home to my mother I found dat ol' miss had give all of 'em +somthin' along with settin 'em free. My mother had 12 children so she +git de mos'. She git a horse, a milk cow, 8 killin' hogs and 50 bushels +of corn. She moved off to a little house on ol' miss's plantation and +make a crop on halvers. She stay on dar for three—four years. Den she +move off into another county where she could go to meetin without havin' +to cross de river. An' I stayed on wid her an help her farm—I could +plow as good as a man in dem days. +</p> +<p> +Finally I hear dat you could make more money in Hot Springs, so I come +to see. My mother was dead by dat time. De first year I made a crop for +Mr. Clay—my granddaughter cooks and tends to children for some of his +folks today. When I went to town an I washed at de Arlington hotel. It +wasn't de fine place it is today. It was jest boards like dis cabin of +mine. An I washed at another hotel—what was it—down across de creek +from de Arlington. Yes ma'am, dat's it. De Grand Central—it was grand +too—for dem days. An' I cooked for Dr. McMasters. An' I cooked for +Colonel Rector—de Rectors had lots of money in dem days. I could make a +weddin' cake good as anybody—with, a 'gagement ring in it. I could make +it fine—tho I don't know but two letters in de book an' thoses is A and +B. +</p> +<p> +I married Mr. Walker. He was a hod carrier when dey built de old red +brick Arlington. I remember lots of things dat happened here. I remember +seein' de smoke from de fire—dat big one. We was a livin' near Picket +Springs—you don't know whare dat is. Well, does you know where de +soldier's breast work was—now I git you on to remembering. +</p> +<p> +Den, later on we moved out an' got a farm near Hawes. I traded dat place +for dis one. Yes, ma'am I likes livin' in de country. Never did like +livin' in town. +</p> +<p> +I don't right know whether culled folks wanted to be free or not. Lots +of 'em didn't rightly understand, Ol' miss was good to hers. Some of 'em +wasn't. She give 'em things before an she give 'em things after. Of +course, we went back an' we washed for 'em. But one mortal blessin. Ol' +miss had made her girls learn how to cook an' wait on themselves. +</p> +<p> +Now take de Combinders. Dey was on de next plantation. Dey was mean. +Many a time you could hear de bull whip, clear over to our place, PLOP, +PLOP. An' if dey died, dey jest wrapped 'em in cloth an' dig a trench, +an' plow right over 'em. An' when de war was over, dey wouldn't turn dey +slaves loose. An de Federals marched in an' marched 'em off. An' ol' +Mis' Combinder she holler out an she say, 'What my girls goin' to do? +Dey ain't never dressed deyselves in dey life. We can't cook? What we +do?' An' de soldiers didn't pay no attention. Dey just marched 'em off. +</p> +<p> +An' ol' man Combinder he lay down an' he have a chill an' he die. He die +because day take his property away from him. +</p> +<p> +Yes, ma'am, Thank you for the quarter. I's goin' to buy snuff. I gets +along good. My grandson he hauls wood for de paper mill. An' my +granddaughters dey works for folks cooks an takes care of children. I +had a good crop dis year. I'll have meat, I got lots of corn, an' I got +other crops. We're gettin' along nice, mighty nice. Thank you ma'am." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerHenry"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Walker, Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +I was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. The first I ever +knowed or heard of a war, I saw a lot of the funniest wagons coming up +to the house from the road. I called the old mistress. She looked out +the window and pushed me back up in the corner and shot the door. She +was so scared. I thought them things they had on their coats (buttons) +was pretty. I found out they was brass buttons. I peeped out a crack it +was already closed 'cept a big crack, I seed through. Well, the wagons +was high in front and high in the back and sunk in the middle. Had pens +in the wheels instead of axels. Wagon had a box instead of a bed. The +wagons would hold a crib full of corn. They loaded up everything on the +place there was to eat and carried it off. My folks and the other folks +was in the field. Colored folks didn't like 'em taking all they had to +eat and had stored up to live on. They didn't leave a hog nor a chicken, +nor anything else they could find. They drove off all the cows and +calves they could find. Colonel Sam Williams, the old master, soon did +go to war then. The folks had a hard time making a living. Old mistress +had four girls and her baby Ed was one day older than I was. The +children of the hands played around in the woods and every place and +stayed in the field if they was big enough to do any work. Old mistress +had all the children pick up scaley barks and hickory nuts and chestnuts +and walnuts. She put them in barrels. She sold some of them. She had a +heap of sugar maple trees. They put an elder funnel to run the sap in +buckets. We carried that and she boiled it down to brown sugar. She had +up pick up chips to burn when she simmered it down or made soap. She +kept all the children hunting ginsing up in the mountains. She kept it +in sacks. A man come by and buy it. We hunted chenqupins down in the +swamps. There was lots of walnut trees in the woods. +</p> +<p> +No the slaves didn't leave Colonel Williams. He left them. He brought me +and Ed and we went back and moved to the old Williams farm on Arkansas +River close to Little Rock. Then he sent for my folks. They come in +wagons. They worked for him a long time and scattered about. I stayed at +his house till he said "Henry, you are grown; you better look out for +yourself now." Ed was gone. He sent all the girls off to school and Ed +too. They taught me if I wanted to learn but I didn't care much about +it. I went to the colored school and Ed to the white school. He learned +pretty well. I never did like to 'sociate or stay 'bout colored folks +and I didn't like to mind 'em. Old mistress show did brush me out +sometimes and they called my mother to tend to me. When I was real +little they drove the hands to the block to be sold out along the road. +Old mistress say: "If you don't be good and mind we'll send yare off and +sell you wid 'em." That scared me worse than a whooping. Never did see +anybody sold. Heard them talk a heap about it. When one of them wouldn't +work and lay out in the woods, or they wouldn't mind they soon got sold +off. They mated a heap of them and sold them for speculation. No mam I +didn't like slavery. We had plenty to eat but they worked for all they +got. Had good fires and good warm houses and good clothes but I did not +like the way they give out the provisions. They blowed a horn and +measured out the weeks paratta for every family. They cooked at the +cabins for their own families. There was several springs and a deep rock +walled well at old mistress' house. Old mistress always lived in a fine +house. I slept at my mother's house nearly all the time. She had a big +family. White folks raised me up to play with Ed till I thought I was +white. They taught me to do right and I ain't forgot it. I never was +arrested. I married three times, bought three marriage license all in +Prairie County. All three wives died. +</p> +<p> +I owns dis house 'cept a mortgage of $50. One of my boys got in a +difficulty. I don't know where he is to get him to pay it off. The other +boy he's not man enough either to pay it off. +</p> +<p> +I never did know jess when the Civil War did close. I kept hearing 'em +say we are free. I didn't see much difference only when Colonel Williams +come back times wasn't so hard. Then he sold out and come to Arkansas. +Then each family raised his own hogs and chickens and finally got to +have cows. +</p> +<p> +I was as scared of the Ku Klux Klan as of rattlesnakes. In Tennessee +they come up the road and back just after dark. They rode all night and +if you wasn't on your master's own land and didn't have a pass from him +or the overseer they would set the dogs on you and run you home. +Sometimes they would whip them. Take them home to the old master. I +never heard of no uprisings. People loved each other better then than +now. They didn't have so much idle time. There was always some work to +be doing. When they didn't mind they run them with dogs and whipped +them. The overseer and paddyrollers seed about that. The first day of +the year everybody went up to hear the rules and see who was to be the +overseer. Then they knowed what to do for the year. They never did kill +nobody. No mam that was too costly. They had work according to their +strength and age. The Ku Klux was to keep order. +</p> +<p> +I been living in Hazen forty or fifty years. All I ever have done was +farm sometimes one-half-for-the-other and sometimes on share-crop. +</p> +<p> +I have voted but not lately. I votes a Republican ticket. I votes that +way because it was the Republicans that set us free, I always heard it +said. I jess belongs to that party. Seems lack we gets easier times when +the Democrats reign. Colonel Williams was a Democrat. +</p> +<p> +The young folks are not as well off as I was at their age. They are +restless and won't work unless they gets big pay and they spends the +money too easy. The colored people are too idle and orderless. They +fight and hate one another and roam around in too much confusion. +</p> +<p> +I gets from $3 to $8 last month from the Sociable Welfare. My children +helps me mighty little. They got their own children to see after and +don't make much. +</p> +<p> +Colonel Williams and Ed are both dead. They did give me a lot of fine +clothes when I went to see them as long as they lived. I don't know +where the girls hab gone. Scattered around. I oughter never left my good +old home and white folks. They was show always mighty good to me. +</p> +<p> +I never could sing much. I used to give the Rebbel Yell. Colonel Yopp +give me a dime every time I give it. Since he died I ain't yelled it no +more. I learned it from Colonel Williams. I jess took it up hearing him +about the place. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerHenry2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Irene Robertson<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave-Hunting<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Henry Walker<br> +Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Farmer.<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +Henry Walker was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. +Remembered the soldiers and ran to the windows to see them pass. One day +he saw a lot of soldiers coming to the house. Henry ran in ahead and +said out loud, "them Yankeys are coming up here." The mistress slapped +Henry, hid him and slammed the doors. The soldiers did not get in but +they did other damage that day. They took all the mules out of the lot +and drove them away. They filled their "dugout wagons" with corn. A +dugout wagon would hold nearly a crib full of corn. They were high in +front and back and came down to a point, nearly touched the ground +between the wheels. The wheels had pens instead of axles in them. +</p> +<p> +The children ran like pigs every morning. The pigs ran to eat acorns and +the children—white and black—to pick up chestnuts, scaly barks and +hickory nuts. There were <u>lots</u> of black walnuts. "We had barrels of +nuts to eat all winter and the mistress sold some every year at +Nashville, Tennessee. The woods were full of nut trees and we had a few +maple and sweet gum trees. We simmered down maple sap for brown sugar +and chewed the sweet gum. We picked up chips to simmer the sweet maple +sap down. We used elder tree wood to make faucets for syrup barrels. +There were chenquipins down in the swamps that the children gathered." +</p> +<p> +Henry Walker said that they were sent upon the hills to find ginsing and +often found long beds of it. They put it in sacks and a man came and +bought it from the mistress. The mistress' name was Mrs. Williams. She +kept the money for the ginsing and nuts too when she sold them. +</p> +<p> +Henry said he ate at Mrs. Williams', but the other children ate at the +cabin. On Saturday evening the horn would sound and every slave would +come to get his allowance of provisions. They used a big bell hung up in +a tree to call them to meals and to begin work. They could also hear +other farm bells and horns. Colored folks could have dances if they +would get permission. Some masters were overseers themselves and some +hired overseers. Patty Rell was a white man and the bush-wackers give us +trouble sometimes. +</p> +<p> +On January first every year everybody ate peas and "hog jole" and +received the new rules. The masters would say, "don't be running up here +telling me on the overseer." They had a bush harbor church and the white +preacher came to preach to black and white sometimes. They taught +obedience and the Golden Rules. No schools—Henry said since freedom the +white men had cheated him out of all he had ever made, with pen-and-ink. +He rather be whipped with a stick than a writing pen. He said Mr. and +Mrs. Williams were good people. Henry learned to knit his socks and +gloves at night watching the grown people. They made a certain number of +broches every night. He liked that. +</p> +<p> +Henry said Mr. Williams let him carry his gun hunting with him and +taught him how to shoot squirrels. They were plentiful. He had a lot of +dogs. The master went to the deer stand and Henry managed the twelve +hounds. He didn't like to fox hunt. About a hundred men and thirty dogs, +horns, etc. out for the chase. They came from Nashville and in the +country. A fox make three rounds from where he is jumped and then widens +out. They brought "fine whiskey" out on the chases. +</p> +<p> +When they had corn shuckings one Negro would sit on the fence and lead +the singing, the others shuck on each side. The master would pour out a +tin cup full of whiskey from a big jug for each corn shucker, and Mrs. +Williams would give each a square of gingerbread. +</p> +<p> +Mr. Williams set aside a certain number of acres of land every year to +be cleared, fenced and broke for cultivation by spring. Six or eight men +worked together. They used tong-hand sticks to carry the logs to the +piles where they were burning them. A saw was a side show, they used +mall, axe and wedge. After the log rolling there would be a big supper +and a good one. The visitors got what they wanted from the table first. +"That was manners." +</p> +<p> +"We took turns going to the Methodist church at Nashville with Mr. and +Mrs. Williams. They went in the fine carriage and the maid held the baby +but anybody else rode along behind on horseback. The carriage horses +were curried every day, kept up and ate corn and fodder. Mr. and Mrs. +Williams came to Nashville to big weddings and dances often." +</p> +<p> +After Henry Walker came to Hazen, Colonel Yopp had him feed his dogs and +attend him on big fox hunting trips. Since Colonel Yopp died January +1928 Henry seldom, or perhaps has never sung the song he sang to Colonel +for dimes if he needed a little change. He learned the song and whoop +back in in slavery days. He said William Dorch (colored boy) took it up +from hearing him sing for Colonel Yopp and would write it for me and +sing it and give it with the old Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee whoop. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerJake1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Jake Walker<br> + 3002 Short W. Ninth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 95</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Well, I was here"I was born in 1842, August the 4th. That makes me +ninety-five in the clear. If I live till next August I'll be ninety-six. +</p> +<p> +"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas, I was born in Alabama. I been here +in Arkansas bout forty or fifty years. I used to live in Mississippi +when I first left the old country. +</p> +<p> +"Oh yes'm, I was bout big enough to go durin' the War, but I wouldn't +run off. Couldn't a had no better master. That's the reason I'm livin' +like I do. Always took good care of myself. Never had no exposure. +</p> +<p> +"I <u>did</u> work fore the War, I'll say! Done anything they said. +</p> +<p> +"John Carmichael was my old master and Miss Nancy was old missis. +</p> +<p> +"Oh yes ma'am, I seed the Yankees. They stopped there. I wasn't askeered +of nobody. I have went to the well and drawed water for em. +</p> +<p> +"I member when the War was gwine on. I didn't know why they was +fightin'. If I did I done forgot"I'll be honest with you. I didn't know +nothin' only they was fightin'. Most of my work was around the house. I +never paid no tention to that war. I was livin' too fine them days. I +was livin' a hundred days to the week. Yes ma'am, I did get along fine. +</p> +<p> +"Oh yes ma'am, I had good white folks. I never was sold. No ma'am, I +born right on the old home place. +</p> +<p> +"Patrollers? Had to get a pass from your master to go over there. Oh +yes, I know all about them. I have seed the Ku Klux too. Yes ma'am, I +know all about them things. +</p> +<p> +"I never been to school but half a day. I went to work when I was eight +years old and been workin' ever since. +</p> +<p> +"My father died in slave times and my mother died the fourth year after +surrender. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom, I worked there bout the course of three or four years. +Then I emigrated and come on to Mississippi. The most I done them times +was farmin'. Reckon I stayed in Mississippi five or six years. +</p> +<p> +"The most work I done here in Arkansas is carpenter work. I'm the first +colored man ever contracted in Pine Bluff. +</p> +<p> +"If I wasn't able to work, I don't think I'd stay here long. +</p> +<p> +"Used to drive the mule in the gin in slave times. +</p> +<p> +"We didn't have a bit of expense on us. Our doctor bills was paid and +had clothes give to us and had plenty of something to eat. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I used to vote but it's been for years since I voted. Voted +Republican. I don't know why the colored people is Republican. You +askin' me something now I don't know nothin' about, but I believe in +votin' for the man goin' to do good"do the country good. +</p> +<p> +"Oh, don't talk about the younger generation"I jist can't accomplish +em, I sure can't. They ain't got the 'regenious' and get-up about em +they had in my time. They is more wiser, that's about all. The young +race these days"I don't know what's gwine come of em. If twasn't for we +old fogies, don't know what they'd do. +</p> +<p> +"We ain't never had that World War yet told about in the Bible. Called +this last war the World War but twasn't. +</p> +<p> +"I've always tried to keep my place and I ain't never been in any kind +of trouble." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WalkerJake2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Jake Walker, Wheatley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born seven or eight miles from Hernando, Mississippi. My pa was a +slave over twenty years. He belong to Master Will Walker, and his white +mistress was Ann. They brought him from 'round Athens, Georgia. He was +heired through his master. His own mother died at his birth and he was +the son of a peddler through the country. He was a furriner but pa never +could tell. His young master never told him. His ma was the nurse about +the place. The peddler was a white man of some kind. He kept coming +about selling goods. The dogs made a bad racket. They never bought +nothing much. Old master suspicioned him trying to get away with +something about the place. He come right out and accused him to being up +to something. He denied it. He told the peddler not to come back. He +never. After it was over she told her mistress. He wanted her to go on +off with him. That made them mad. But he never was seen about there. +</p> +<p> +"When Will Walker got married he wanted my pa and he was give to him, a +horse and buggy, two mules, a lamb, and five young cows. He had some +money and he come to Mississippi. I reckon he did buy some land. He got +to be a slave owner before freedom. Pa said he drove the horse to the +buggy and his master rode a mule, led a mule and brought his cows, and +they kept the lamb in the buggy with them nearly all the way. +</p> +<p> +"I think they was good to him. His young mistress cried so much they all +went back once before freedom. They went on Christmas time. Only time he +ever was drunk. He got down and nearly froze to death. The white folks +heard he was somewhere down. They went and got him one Sunday morning in +a two-horse wagon. He was nearly dead. That was his first and last +spree. +</p> +<p> +"Pa said he nursed three of his young mistress' babies, Alfred, Tom, and +Kenneth. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom pa went to Texas with Alfred Walker. He owned a ranch out +on the desert and raised Texas ponies and big horn cows. They sent a +carload of young cattle to St. Louis and pa stopped back in Mississippi +and married ma. She was a Walker too, Libbie Walker. There was fourteen +of us children. They nearly all went to Louisiana to work in the timber. +I come to Clarendon. I been married three times. My last wife left me +and took my onliest child. Only child I ever had. They was at Hot +Springs last account I had of them. She was cooking for a woman over +there. My girl is up 'bout grown now. She come to Clarendon to see me +three years ago. I sent for her but she wouldn't stay. She writes to me, +but I have to get somebody to write for me and somebody to read her +letters. I can read print real good. I never went to school a day in my +whole life. We had to work early and late when I come up. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed, sawmilled, worked in the timber. I do public work, haul wood, +cut wood, and work in the field by day labor. +</p> +<p> +"I votes a Republican ticket. I haven't voted since Mr. Taft run. I +don't have no way to keep up with elections now. Folks used to talk +more, now they keeps quiet. +</p> +<p> +"I never heard pa say how he come to know about freedom. Ma said she was +refugeed to Texas and when they brung them back, Master Will Walker met +them at the creek on his place and he said, 'You all are free now. You +can go on my place or hunt other places.' They went on his place and +they lived there a long time. I don't remember ever living on that +place. Pa wasn't there then. I don't know where be could been. Ma and pa +was both Walkers but no blood kin. Ma didn't talk much about old times. +She was sold once, she said. Bass Kelly bought her. I don't know if Will +Walker traded for her. She never did say. Bass Kelly was mean to her. He +beat her and one time she hid and kept hid till she nearly starved, she +said. She hid in the corn crib. It was a log house. She didn't enjoy +slavery. Pa had a very good time, better than us boys had it when we +come up. He worked and kept us with him. He and ma died the same week. +They had pneumonia in Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"I got one sister. She lives close to Shreveport. She keeps up with us +all. I go down there every now and then. She's not stove up like I am. +She wants me to stay with her all the time. I gets work down there +easier but I have the rheumatism bad down there. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what will become of young folks. I wish I had their +chance. They can't wait for nothing. They in too big a hurry for the +crop to grow. Busy living by the day. When the year gone they ain't no +better off. Times is good in places. Hard in places. Times better in +Louisiana than up here. Work easier to get. Folks got more living. +</p> +<p> +"I'm chopping cotton on Mr. Hill's place. I gets ninety cents a day. I +can't get over the ground fast." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WallaceWillie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Willie Wallace<br> + 40th and Georgia Streets, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Green County, Alabama. Elihu Steele was my old master. +Miss Julia was old missis. She was Elihu's wife. Her mother's name was +Penny Hatter. Miss Penny give my mother to her daughter Julia. +</p> +<p> +"I was a twin and they choosed us for the cook and washer and ironer, +but surrender come along 'fore we got big enough to do anything. +</p> +<p> +"My father was crippled and couldn't work in the field, and I remember +he used to carry the children out to the field to be suckled. +</p> +<p> +"They had a right smart of slaves. My mother had twelve children and I'm +the baby. +</p> +<p> +"I remember they'd make up a big pot of corn bread and pot-liquor and +they'd say, 'Eat, chillun, eat.' +</p> +<p> +"I remember one time the white folks had some stock tied out, and I know +my sister's little boy didn't know no better and he showed the Yankees +where they was. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when they said the people was free, but our folks stayed +right on there—I don't know how many years—'cause my mother thought a +heap of her old missis, Penny. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school after freedom and learned how to read and write and +figger. I worked in the field till I got disabled. I never did wash and +iron and cook for the white folks. +</p> +<p> +"I was fifteen—somewhere in there—when I married and I'm the mother of +twelve children. +</p> +<p> +"I have lived in Thomas, West Virginia; Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; +Cumberland, Maryland; Milliken, Louisiana; and Birmingham, Alabama. I +just lived in all them places following my children around. +</p> +<p> +"I fell through a trestle in Birmingham and injured myself comin' from +church. +</p> +<p> +"I think the people is gettin' terrible now. You think they're gettin' +better? I think they're gettin' wuss. +</p> +<p> +"I got a book here called 'Uncle Tom' and I hates to read it sometimes +'cause the people suffered so. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think old master had any overseers. Miss Julia wouldn't 'low +any of her people to be beat." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WarriorEvans"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Evans Warrior<br> + 609 E. 23rd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born here in Arkansas in Dallas County. I don't know zackly what +year but I was bout five when they drove us to Texas. Stayed there three +years till the war ceasted. +</p> +<p> +"Old master's name was Nat Smith. He was good to me. I was big enough to +plow same year the war ceasted. +</p> +<p> +"Yankees come through Texas after peace was 'clared. They'd come by and +ask my mother for bread. She was the cook. +</p> +<p> +"We left Arkansas 'fore the war got busy. Everything was pretty ragged +after we got back. White folks was here but colored folks was scattered. +My folks come back and went to their native home in Dallas County. +</p> +<p> +"Never did nothin' but farm work. Worked on the shares till I got able +to rent. Paid five or six dollars a acre. Made some money. +</p> +<p> +"I heered of the Ku Klux. Some of em come through the Clemmons place and +put notice on the doors. Say VACATE. All the women folks got in one +house. Then the boss man come down and say there wasn't nothin' to it. +Boss man didn't want em there. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school a little. Kep' me in the field all the tims. Didn't +get fur enuf to read and write. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I voted. Voted the Republican ticket. That's what they give me +to vote. I couldn't read so I'd tell em who I wanted to vote for and +they'd put it down. Some of my friends was justice of the peace and +constables. +</p> +<p> +"I been in Pine Bluff bout four years—till I got disabled to work. +</p> +<p> +"I been married five times. All dead but two. Don't know how many +chillun we had—have to go back and study over it. +</p> +<p> +"Some of the younger generation is out of reason. Ain't strict on +chillun now like the old folks was." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonAnna"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Anna Washington, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> + (Back of Mrs. Maynard's home in the alley)<br> +Age: 77 </h3> +<br> +<p> +"I've forgot who my mother's owner was. She was born in Virginia. She +was put on a block and sold. She was fifteen years old and she never +seen her mother again after she left her. Her master was George +Birdsong. He bought my papa too. They was onliest two he owned. He +wanted them both light so the children would be light for house girls +and waiting boys. Light colored folks sold for more money on the block. +</p> +<p> +"The boss man over grandpa and grandma in Virginia was John Glover. But +he was not their owner. My grandpa was about white. He said his owners +was good to him but now grandma had a pided back where she had been +whooped. Grandpa come down from the Washington slaves so my papa said. +That is the reason I holds to his name and my boy holds to it. Papa said +he had to plough and clean up new ground for Master Birdsong. He was a +young man starting out and papa and mama was young too. +</p> +<p> +(She left and came back with some old scraps of yellow and torn papers +dimly written all over: Anna Washington, born 1860 at Hines County at +Big Rock. Mother born at Capier County. Father born at White County, +Virginia—ed.) +</p> +<p> +"This is what was told to me by my papa: His grandmother was born of +George Washington's housemaid. That was one hundred forty years ago. His +papa was educated under a fine mechanic and he help build the old +State-house at Washington. Major Rousy Paten was the Washington nigger +'ministrator. +</p> +<p> +"I had a sister named Martha Curtis after his young wife. I had a +brother named Housy Patton. They are both dead now. Pa lived to be +ninety-eight years old. My mama was as white as you is but she was a +nigger woman. Pa was lighter than I is now. I'm getting darker 'cause +I'm getting old. My pa was named Benjamin Washington. +</p> +<p> +"I heard my pa talk about Nat Turner. (She knew who he was o.k.—ed.) He +got up a rebellion of black folk back in Virginia. I heard my pa sit and +tell about him. Moses Kinnel was a rich white man wouldn't sell Nellie +'cause of what his wife said. She was a housemaid. He wrote own free +pass book and took her to Maryland. Father's father wanted to buy Nellie +but her owner wouldn't sell her. He took her. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had fourteen children. We and Archie was the youngest. +</p> +<p> +"Moses Kinnel was a rich white man and had lots of servants. He promised +never to sell Nellie and keep her to raise his white children. She was +his maid. He promised that her dying bed. But father's father stole her +and took her to Maryland. +</p> +<p> +"Pa run away and was sold twice or more. When he was small chile his +mother done fine washing. She seat him to go fetch her some fine laundry +soap what they bought in the towns. Two white men in a two-wheel open +buggy say, 'Hey, don't you want to ride?' 'I ain't got time.' 'Get in +buggy, we'll take you a little piece.' One jumped out and tied his hands +together. They sold him. They let him go to nigger traders. They had him +at a doctor's examining his fine head see what he could stand. The +doctor say, 'He is a fine man. Could trust him with silver and gold—his +weight in it.' They brung him to Mississippi and sold him for a big +price. He had these papers the doctor wrote on him to show. +</p> +<p> +"Then he sent for my mama after they sat him free. His name was Ben +Washington. +</p> +<p> +"He never spoke much of freedom. He said his master in Mississippi told +them and had them sign up contracts to finish that year's crop. He took +back his old Virginia name and I don't recollect that master's name. +Heard it too. Yes ma'am, heap er times. My recollection is purty nigh +gone. +</p> +<p> +"I don't get no younger in feelings 'cause I'm getting old." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonEliza"></a> +<h3>FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Interviewer: S.S. Taylor<br> +Subject: Slave memories—Birth, Mother, Father, Separation House<br> +Subject: Slaves—Dwellings, Food, Clothes<br> +Subject: Corn Shucking, Dances, Quiltings, Weddings among Slaves<br> +Subject: Slaves—Fight with Master (junior); Slave uprisings<br> +Subject: Confederate Army Negroes; Ex-slave Occupations<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Eliza Washington<br> +Place of Residence: 1517 West Seventeenth<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Washing and Ironing (When able)<br> +Age: About 77</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]<br> +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]</p> +<br> +<p> +The first thing I remember was living with my mother about six miles +from Scott's Crossing in Arkansas, about the year 1866. I know it was +1866 because it was the year after the surrender, and we know the +surrender was in 1865. I know the dates after 1866. You don't know +nothin' when you don't know dates. If you get up in court and say +somethin', the lawyers ask you when it happened and then they ask you +where did it happen, and if you can't tell them, they say "Witness is +excused. You don't know nothin'." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Mother and Father</b></p> +<p> +My mother was born in North Carolina in Mecklinberg in Henderson County. +I don't know when she came to Arkansas, and I don't know when she went +to Tennessee. +</p> +<p> +My father was born in Tennessee. I don't know the county like I did in +North Carolina. I don't know the town either, but I think it was in the +rurals somewhere. The white folks separated my mother and father when I +was a little baby in their arms. The people to whom my father belonged +stayed in Tennessee, but my mother's people came to Arkansas. It must +have been along in the time of the war that they come to Arkansas. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Dwelling</b></p> +<p> +My mother lived in a log house chinked with wood chinks. The chinks +looked like gluts. You know what a glut is? No? Well a glut looks like +the pattern of a shoe. They lay the logs together, and then chink up the +cracks with wood blocks made up like the pattern of a shoe. These were +chinks, wooden things about a foot long, shaped like a wedge. They were +used for chinking. After the logs were laid together, chinks would be +needed to stop up the holes between the logs. After the chinking was +finished, clay was stuffed in to stop up the cracks and make the house +warm. I've seen a many a one built. +</p> +<p> +Wide planks were used for the floors. The doors were hung on wooden +hinges. The doors were never locked. They didn't have any looks on them. +You could bar them on the inside if you wanted to. They didn't have no +fear of burglars in them days. People wasn't bad then as they is now. +They had just one window and one door in the house. The chimney was +built up like a ladder and clay and straw was stuffed in the framework. +</p> +<p> +I have seen such houses built right down here in Scott's. My mother was +a field hand. She lived in such a house in Tennessee. There wasn't no +brick about the house, not even in the chimney. In later years, they +have covered up all those logs with weather boards and made the houses +look like what they call "modern", but theyr'e the same old log houses. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Food</b></p> +<p> +My mother said her white folks fed her well. She had whatever they had. +When she came to Arkansas, they issued rations, but she never was issued +rations before. When they issued rations, they gave them so much food +each week—so much corn meal, so much potatoes, so much cabbage, so much +molasses, so much meat—mostly rubbish-like food. We went out in the +garden and dug the potatoes and got the cabbage. +</p> +<p> +But in Tennessee, my mother got what ever she wanted whenever she wanted +it. If she wanted salt, she went and got it. If she wanted meat, she +went to the smokehouse and got it. Whatever she wanted, she went and got +it, and they didn't have no times for issuing out. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Social Affairs—Corn Shuckings, Quiltings and Dances</b></p> +<p> +The biggest time I remember on the plantations was corn shucking time. +Plenty of corn was brought in from the cribs and strowed along where +everybody could get to it freely. Then they would all get corn and shuck +it until near time to quit. The corn shucking was always at night, and +only as much corn as they thought would be shucked was brought from the +cribs. Just before they got through, they would begin to sing. Some of +the songs were pitiful and sad. I can't remember any of them, but I can +remember that they were sad. One of them began like this: +</p> +<pre> +"The speculator bought my wife and child + And carried her clear away." +</pre> +<p> +When they got through shucking, they would hunt up the boss. He would +run away and hide just before. If they found him, two big men would take +him up on their shoulders and carry him all around the grounds while +they sang. My mother told me that they used to do it that way in slave +time. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Dances</b></p> +<p> +They didn't dance then like they do now all hugged up and indecent. In +them days, they danced what you call square dances. They don't do those +dances now, they're too decent. There were eight on a set. I used to +dance those myself. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Quiltings</b></p> +<p> +I heard mother say she went to a lot of quiltings. I suppose they had +them much the same as they do now. Everybody took a part of the quilt to +finish. They talked and sang and had a good time. And they had somethin' +to eat at the close just as they did in the corn shucking. I never went +to a quilting. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Worship</b></p> +<p> +Some of the Niggers went to church then just as they do now, and some of +them weren't allowed to go. +</p> +<p> +Reverend Winfield used to preach to the colored people that if they +would be good niggers and not steal their master's eggs and chickens and +things, that they might go to the kitchen of heaven when they died. +</p> +<p> +An old lady once said to me, "I would give anything if I could have +Maria in heaven with me to do little things for me." My mother told me +that the niggers had to turn the pots down to keep their voices from +sounding when they were praying at night. And they couldn't sing at all. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Weddings</b></p> +<p> +I can remember that they used to have weddings when I was a child around +the years 1867 and 1868. My mother told me of marriages and weddings. +She never saw no paint on anybody's face. They used to have powder, but +they never used any paint. Girls were better then than they are now. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Fight with Master</b></p> +<p> +My mother's first master was named Rasly, and her second was named +Neely. She and her young master, John McNeely, who was raised with her +and who was about the same age as she was, got to fighting one day and +she whipped him clear as a whistle. After she whipped him that fight +went all over the country. She was between sixteen and seventeen years +old an he was about the same. She had never been whipped by the white +folks. +</p> +<p> +She was in the kitchen. I don't know what the trouble started over. But +they had an argument. There were some other white boys in the kitchen +with her young master, and they kept pushing the two of them up to +fight. He wanted to show off; so he told her what he would do to her if +she didn't hush her mouth. She told him to just try it, and the fight +was on. So they fought for about an hour, and the other white boys egged +them on. +</p> +<p> +She said that her old master never did whip her, and she sure wasn't +going to let the young one do it. I never heard that they punished her +for whipping her young master. I never heard her say that anybody tried +to whip her at any other time. My mother was a strong woman. She could +lift one end of a log with any man. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Slave Uprisings</b></p> +<p> +My mother used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, (That +was about the time that the stars fell, and the stars fell in 1833 +[HW:*]. So she must have been born in 1819. In 1833, she was sold for a +fourteen year old girl. That was the only time that she ever was sold. +That left her about eighty-three years old when she died in 1903.) She +used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, and was living +in North Carolina in Mecklinburg Co, in Henderson County, that the white +folks called all the slaves up to the big house and kept them there a +few days. There wasn't no trouble on my mother's place, but they had +heard that there was an uprising among the slaves, and they called all +the Niggers up to the house. They didn't do nothin' to them. They just +called them up to the house, and kept them there. It all passed over +soon. I don't know nothin' else about it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Confederate Army Negroes</b></p> +<p> +I've "heered" old Brother Zachary who used to belong to Bethel Church +tell about the surrender. Brother Zachary is dead now. He was a soldier +In the Confederate army. He fought all through the war and he used to +tell lots of stories about it. +</p> +<p> +You know, Lee was a tall man, fine looking and dignified. Grant was a +little man and short. Those two generals walked up to each other with a +white flag in their hands. And they talked and agreed just when they +would fight. And then they both went back to their armies, and they +fought the awfulest battle you ever "heered" of. The men lay dead in +rows and rows and rows. The dead men covered whole fields. And General +Lee said that there wasn't any use doing any more fighting. General +Grant let all the rebels keep their guns. He didn't take nothin' away +from them. +</p> +<p> +I saw General Grant when he came to Little Rock. There was an old white +man who had never been to Little Rock in his life. He said "I just had +to come up here to see this great general that they are talking about." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Occupations</b></p> +<p> +We always worked in the field in slave time. I don't know nothin about +share cropping because I always did days work. I used to get four and +five dollars a week for washing. But now they wants the young folks and +they don't pay them five dollars for everything. I can't get a pension. +Why you reckon they won't give me one. They don't understand that that +little house I own doesn't even keep itself up. My daughter-in-law is +good to me but she needs everything she makes. I can't get much to do +now, and what little I gets, they don't pay me much for. +</p> +<p> +I don' remember nothin' else. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonJennie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Jennie Washington, DeValls Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80 </h3> +<br> +<p> +"My mother was a slave and my father too I recken. They belonged to Jack +Walton when I remembered. I was born at St. Charles. My mother died in +time of the war at St. Louis. This is whut I remembers. My mother was +sold twice. The Prices owned her and the Wakefields owned her before she +was owned by old Jack Walton. I was the youngest child. I had one +brother went to war and he drawed a pension long as he lived. We +children all got scattered out. Mr. Walton bout the age of my father and +he said some day all these niggers be set free and warnt long fore they +sho was. I had one older sister I recollect mighty well. My mother named +Fannie, my father named Abe Walton. He had a young master James Walton. +</p> +<p> +"When I was nuthin but a chile I remembers James dressed up like Ku Klux +Klan and scared me. The old master sho did whoop him bout that. They +take care of the little black children and feed em good an don't let em +do too hard er work to stunt em so they take em off and sell em for a +good price. +</p> +<p> +"I remembers the little old log house my granma and granpa way back over +on the place stayed in till they died. We went back after the war and +lived ten years on the same place. We lived close to the white folks in +a bigger house. +</p> +<p> +"I don't recollect no big change after freedom cept they quit selling +and working folks without giving them money. I was too small to notice +much change then I speck. Times has always been tight wid me. I ain't +never had very much. I did work an a livin is all I ever got out of it. +Never could make enough to get ahead. +</p> +<p> +"The white folks never give the darky nothing when freedom declared. We +used to raise tobacco and sell it to smoke and make snuff. And he had em +make ax handles to sell on the side for money till the crops gathered. +</p> +<p> +"If you believe in the Bible you won't believe in women votin' I never +did vote. I ain't goner never vote. +</p> +<p> +"The present condition is fine. Mrs. Robinson carries a great big truck +load to her farm every day to pick cotton. She sent word up here she +take anybody whut wanter work. I wish I was able to go. I loves to pick +cotton. She pay em seventy-five cents a hundred. She'll pay em too! I +don't know what they do this winter. Set by the fire I recken. But next +spring she'll let hoe that crop. She took em this past year to hoe out +that very cotton they pickin now. Her husband, he's sick. He keeps their +store up town. She takes a few white hands too if they wanter work. I +don't think the present generation no worse en they ever been. They +drawed up closer together than they used to be. They buys everything now +an they don't raise nuthin. It's the Bible fulfillin. Everything so high +they caint save nuthin! +</p> +<p> +"I married twice. First time in the church, other time at home. I had +four children. I had two in Detroit. I don't know where my son is. He +may be there yet. My daughter there got fourteen children her own. I +don't know where the others are. Nom [TR: long "o" diacritical] they +don't help me a bit, do well helpin theirselves. I gets the Welfare +sistance and I works my garden back here." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WashingtonParrish"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Parrish Washington<br> + 812 Spruce Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 86</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in 1852—born in Arkansas. Sam Warren was my old master. +</p> +<p> +"I remember some of the Rebel generals—General Price and General +Marmaduke. +</p> +<p> +"We had started to Texas but the Yankees got in ahead of us in the +Saline bottoms and we couldn't go no further. +</p> +<p> +"My boss had so much faith in his own folks he wouldn't leave here 'til +it was too late. He left home on Saturday night and got into the bottoms +on Sunday and made camp. Then the Yankees got in ahead of him and he +couldn't go no further, so we come back to Jefferson County. +</p> +<p> +"The Yankees had done took Little Rock and come down to Pine Bluff. +</p> +<p> +"My father died in 1860 and my mother in 1865. +</p> +<p> +"I can remember when they whipped the slaves. Never whipped me +though—they was just trainin' me up. +</p> +<p> +"Had an old lady on the place cooked for the children and we just got +what we could. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when peace was declared, the people shouted and rejoiced—a +heavy load had fell off. +</p> +<p> +"All the old hands stayed on the place. I stayed there with my uncle and +aunt. We was treated better then. I was about 25 years old when I left +there. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed 'til '87. Then I joined the Conference and preached nearly +forty years when I was superannuated. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when the Rebels was camped up there on my boss's place. I +used to love to see the soldiers. Used to see the horses hitched to the +artillery. +</p> +<p> +"Two or three of Sam Warren's hands run off and joined the Yankees. They +didn't know what it was goin' to be and two of 'em come back—stayed +there too. +</p> +<p> +"I used to vote the Republican ticket. I was justice of the peace four +years—two terms. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school here in Pine Bluff about two or three terms and I was +school director in district number two about six or seven years. +</p> +<p> +"I have great hope for the young people of the future. 'Course some of +'em are not worth killin' but the better class—I think there is a +bright future for 'em. +</p> +<p> +"But for the world in general, if they don't change they goin' to the +devil. But God always goin' to have some good people in reserve 'til the +Judgment." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WatsonCaroline"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Caroline Watson<br> + 517 E. 21st Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in '55 in March on the 13th on Sunday morning in time for +breakfast. I was born in Mississippi. I never will forget my white +folks. Oh, I was raised good. I had good white folks. Wish I could see +some of em now. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I specs I do remember when the war started. I member when twas +goin' on. Oh Lord, I member all bout it. Old mistress' name was Miss +Ellen Shird. +</p> +<p> +"Oh the Yankees used to come around. I can see us chillun sittin' on the +gallery watchin' em. I disremember what color uniform they had on, but I +seen a heap of em. +</p> +<p> +"My old master, I can see him now—old Joe Shird. Just as good as they +could be. +</p> +<p> +"I should say I do remember when they surrendered. I know everybody was +joyous. But they done better fore surrender than they did +afterwards—that is them that had to go off to themselves. +</p> +<p> +"I was always so fast tryin' to work I wasn't studyin' bout no books, +but I went to school after surrender. My father and mother was smart old +folks and made us work. +</p> +<p> +"I just been married once. I did pretty well. I like to been married +since he's dead but I seen so many didn't do so well. I has four sons +and one daughter. My son made me quit workin'. They gets me anything I +want. I got a religion that will do to die with. I done give up +everything. +</p> +<p> +"Younger generation? What we goin' do with em? They ought to be sent off +some place and put to work. They just gone to the dogs. The Lord have +mercy. My heart just aches and moans and groans for em." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WatsonMary"></a> +<h3>STATE—Arkansas<br> +NAME OF WORKER—Samuel S. Taylor<br> +ADDRESS—Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +DATE—December, 1938<br> +SUBJECT—Ex-slave<br> +</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>Mary Watson</b></big>, +1500 Cross Street, Little Rock. +</p> +<p> +2. Date and time of interview— +</p> +<p> +3. Place of interview—1500 Cross Street, Little Rock. +</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> +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.— +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Personal History of Informant</b></p> +<p> +1. Ancestry—father, Abram McCoy; mother, Louise McCoy. +</p> +<p> +2. Place and date of birth—Mississippi. No date. +</p> +<p> +3. Family— +</p> +<p> +4. Places lived in, with dates—Lived in Mississippi until 1891 then +moved to Arkansas. +</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— +</p> +<p> +10. Other points gained in interview—This person tells very little of +life, but tells of her parents. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> +<p> +"My mother and father were McCoys. His name was Abram and her name was +Louise. My mother died right here when Brewer was Pastor of Wesley. You +ought to remember her. My mother died in 1928. My father died in 1897 +when Joe Sherrill was pastor. Joe Sherrill went to Africa, you know. He +was a missionary. +</p> +<p> +"My mother was owned by Bill Mitchell. He came from Alabama. I can't +call the name of the town, just now. Yes, I can; it was Tuscaloosa. My +father came from South Carolina. McCoy was his owner. But how come him +to leave South Carolina he was sold after his master died and the +property was divided. He was sold away from his family. He had a large +family—about nine children. My mother was sold away from her mother +too. She was little and couldn't help herself. My grandma didn't want to +come. And she managed not to; I don't know how she managed it. +</p> +<p> +"Before freedom my father was a farmer. My mother was a farmer too. My +mother wasn't so badly treated. She was a slave but she worked right +along with the white children. She had two brothers. The other sister +stayed with her mother. She was sold—my mother's mother. But I don't +know to whom. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a preacher. He could word any hymn. How could he do it, I +don't know. On his Sunday, when the circuit rider wasn't there, he would +have me read the Bible to him and then he could get up and tell it to +the people. I don't know how he managed it. He didn't know how to read. +But he had a wonderful memory. He always had his exhorting license +renewed and he exhorted the people both Methodists and Baptists. After +freedom, when I went to school I knew and always helped him. +</p> +<p> +"My father voted on the election days all the time. Be was a Republican, +and he rallied to them all the time. Before the war, my father farmed. +He commenced in the early fall hauling the cotton from Abbeville, South +Carolina to Augusta, Georgia. That was his business—teamster, hauling +cotton. He never did talk like his owners were so mean to him. Of +course, they weren't mean. When her master died and the property had to +be sold, his master bought her and her babies. +</p> +<p> +"My father met my mother before the war started. Colored people were +scarce in the locality where she lived. These white people saw my father +and liked him. And they encouraged her to marry him. She was only +seventeen. My father was much older. He remembered the dark day in May +and when the stars fell. +</p> +<p> +"He didn't show his age much though till he came to Little Rock. He had +been used to farming and city life didn't agree with him. He left about +seven years after coming here. +</p> +<p> +"My father and mother met and married in Mississippi. He came from South +Carolina and she came from Alabama. They had nine children. All of them +were born after the war. I am the oldest. Lee McCoy is my youngest +brother. You know him, I'm sure. He is the president of Rust College. I +was born right after the war. Don't put me down as no ex-slave. I was +born right after the war. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the war, my father farmed in Mississippi. He took a notion +to come to Arkansas in 1891. He brought his whole family with him. And I +have been out here ever since. +</p> +<p> +"I never saw any slave houses. I wasn't a slave. I have been to the +place where my mother was raised. I was teaching school near there and +just wanted to see. After her master died, Sam McCallister, his cousin, +took the slave children and was their guardian. Years later it come up +in court and they took all his land. Bill Mitchell was her first master. +He died during slave time. McCallister was made administrator of the +estate. He was made guardian of all the children too. He was made +guardian of the white children and of the colored children. He raised +them all. There was Ma and her auntie and three or four children of her +auntie's. Later on, way after the war, there was a lawsuit. I was grown +then. The courts made him pay the white children their share as far as +he was able. Of course, the colored children got nothing because they +were slaves when he took them. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know nothing about the Ku Klux Klan bothering my family. I +don't remember anything except that I hear them talking about the Ku +Klux and the Pateroles. I wasn't here. +</p> +<p> +"Don't put me down as an ex-slave. I am not an ex-slave. I was born +after the war. I don't know nothing about slavery except what I heard +others say. I expect I have talked too much anyway." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Extra Comment</b></p> +<p> +The constant reiteration of the phrase, "I'm not an ex-slave" roused my +curiosity and drove me to a superficial investigation. Persons who are +acquainted with her and her family estimate that Mary Watson is nearer +eighty than seventy. She started her story pleasantly enough. But when +she got the obsession that she would be put down as an ex-slave, she +refused to tell more. +</p> +<p> +There is one thing not to be overlooked. Mary Watson has a mind that is +still keen. She tells what she wants to tell, and she doesn't state a +thing that she does not want to state. The hidden facts are to be +discerned only by subtle inference. This trait interested me, for her +younger brother, mentioned in the story, is a distinguished character, +President of Rust College, Holly Springs, Mississippi, and known to be +experienced and efficient in his work. Whatever she may have reserved or +stated, in reading her story, we are reading at least a sidelight on a +family of which some of the members have done some fine work within the +race. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WayneBart"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Person interviewed: Bart Wayne, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born at Holly Springs in 1866. It was in the springtime. Ma said +I was born two years after the surrender. Ma was named Mary and pa +Dan—Dan Wayne. They never was sold. In 1912 Dr. Leard was living in a +big fine house at Sardia, Mississippi. He was our last owner. Mallard +Jones owned them too. Pa didn't have no name. He was called for his +owners. I don't know if he named hisself Dan Wayne or not. The way I +think it was, Mr. Jones give Dr. Leard's wife them. He give her a big +plantation. I knowed Dr. Leard my own self all my life. I'd go to see +him. +</p> +<p> +"The present times is hard. I get ten dollars a month. I don't know what +to say about folks now—none of them." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WeathersAnnieMae"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella Anderson<br> +Person interviewed: Annie Mae Weathers<br> + East Bone Street<br> + El Dorado, Ark.<br> +Age: ?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born bout the second year after surrender right down here at +Caledonia. Now the white folks that ma and pa and me belonged to was +named Fords. We farmed all the time. The reason we farmed all the time +was because that was all for us to do. You see there wasn't nothin' else +for us to do. There wasn't no schools in my young days to do no good, +and this time of year we was plowin' to beat the band and us always +planted corn in February and in April our corn was. +</p> +<p> +"We fixed our ground early and planted early and we had good crops of +everything. We went to bed early and rose early. We had a little song +that went like this: +</p> +<pre> +Early to bed and early to rise +Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. + + and + +The early bird catches the worm. +</pre> +<p> +Cooked breakfast every morning by a pine torch. +</p> +<p> +"I member hearin' my pa say that when somebody come and hollowed: 'Yer +niggers is free at last' say he just dropped his hoe and said in a queer +voice: 'Thank God for that.' It made old miss and old moss so sick till +they stopped eating a week. Pa said old moss and old miss looked like +their stomach and guts had a law suit and their navel was called in for +a witness, they was so sorry we was free. +</p> +<p> +"After I got a good big girl I was hired out for my clothes and +something to eat. My dresses was made out of cotton stripes and my +chemise was made out of flannelette and my under pants was made out of +homespun. +</p> +<p> +"Our games was 'Honey, honey Bee,' 'Ball I can't Yall,' and a nother one +of our games was 'Old Lady Hypocrit.'" +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WeathersCora"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Cora Weathers<br> + 818 Chester Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I have been right on this spot for sixty-three years. I married when I +was sixteen and he brought me here and put me down and I have been here +ever since. No, I don't mean he deserted me; I mean he put me on this +spot of ground. Of course, I have been away on a visit but I haven't +been nowheres else to live. +</p> +<p> +"When I came here, there was only three houses—George Winstead lived on +Chester and Eighth Street; Dave Davis lived on Ninth and Ringo; and +George Gray lived on Chester and Eighth. Rena Lee lived next to where +old man Paterson stays now, 906 Chester. Rena Thompson lived on Chester +and Tenth. The old people that used to live here is mostly dead or moved +up North. +</p> +<p> +"On Seventh and Ringo there was a little store. It was the only store +this side of Main Street. There was a little old house where Coffin's +Drug Store is now. The branch ran across there. Old man John Peyton had +a nursery in a little log house. You couldn't see it for the trees. He +kept a nursery for flowers. On the next corner, old man Sinclair lived. +That is the southeast corner of Ninth and Broadway. Next to him was the +Hall of the Sons of Ham. +</p> +<p> +"That was the first place I went to school. Lottie Stephens, Robert +Lacy, and Gus Richmond were the teacher. Hollins was the principal. That +was in the Sons of Ham's Hall. +</p> +<p> +"I was born in Dallas County, Arkansas. It must have been 'long 'bout in +eighty-fifty-nine, 'cause I was sixteen years old when I come here and I +been here sixty-three years. +</p> +<p> +"During the War, I was quite small. My mother brought me here after the +War and I went to school for a while. Mother had a large family. So I +never got to go to school but three months at a time and only got one +dollar and twenty-five cents a week wages when I was working. My father +drove a wagon and hoed cotton. Mother kept house. She had—lemme +see—one, two, three, four—eight of us, but the youngest brother was +born here. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's name was Millie Stokes. My mother's name before she was +married was—I don't know what. My father's name was William Stokes. My +father said he was born in Maryland. I met Richard Weathers here and +married him sixty-three years ago. I had six children, three girls and +three boys. Children make you smart and industrious—make you think and +make you get about. +</p> +<p> +"I've heard talk of the pateroles; they used to whip the slaves that was +out without passes, but none of them never bothered us. I don't remember +anything myself, because I was too small. I heard of the Ku Klux too; +they never bothered my people none. They scared the niggers at night. I +never saw none of them. I can't remember how freedom came. First I +knowed, I was free. +</p> +<p> +"People in them days didn't know as much as the young people do now. But +they thought more. Young people nowadays don't think. Some of them will +do pretty well, but some of them ain't goin' to do nothin'. They are +gittin' worse and worser. I don't know what is goin' to become of them. +They been dependin' on the white folks all along, but the white folks +ain't sayin' much now. My people don't seem to want nothin'. The +majority of them just want to dress and run up and down the streets and +play cards and policy and drink and dance. It is nice to have a good +time but there is something else to be thought of. But if one tries to +do somethin', the rest tries to pull him down. The more education they +get, the worse they are—that is, some of them." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WebbIshe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ishe Webb<br> + 1610 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78, or more</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born October 14. That was in slavery time. The record is burnt +up. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. My father's master was a Webb. His +first name was Huel. My father was named after him. I came here in 1874, +and I was a boy eleven or twelve years old then. +</p> +<p> +"My father was sold to another man for seventeen hundred dollars. My +mother was sold for twenty hundred. I have heard them say that so much +that I never will forget it. Webb sold my father and bought him back. My +mother's folks were Calverts. The Calverts and the Webbs owned adjoining +plantations. +</p> +<p> +"My grandmother on my mother's side was a Calvert too. Her first name +was Joanna. I think my father's parents got beat to death in slavery. +Grandfather on my mother's side was tied to a stump and whipped to +death. He was double jointed and no two men could whip him. They wanted +to whip him because he wouldn't work. That was what they would whip any +one for. They would run off before they would work. Stay in the woods +all night. +</p> +<p> +"My Grandma Calvert was buried over here in Galloway on the Rock Island +road on the John Eynes plantation. +</p> +<p> +"My folks' masters were all right. But them nigger drivers were bad, +just like the county farm. A man sitting in the house and putting you +over a lot of men, you gwinter go up high as you want to. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a weaver. There was a lot +of those slavery folks 'round the house, and they tell me they didn't +work them till they were twenty-one, they put them in the field when +they were twenty-two. If you didn't work they would beat you to death. +My father killed his overseer and went on off to the War. +</p> +<p> +"The pateroles used to drive and whip them. They would catch the slaves +off without a pass and whip them and then make the boss pay for them +when they took them back. I never seen the pateroles but I have seen the +Ku Klux and they were the same thing. +</p> +<p> +"The jayhawkers would catch you when the pateroles didn't. They would +carry you to the pateroles and get pay for you, and the pateroles would +turn you over to the owners. You had to have a pass. If you didn't the +pateroles would catch you and wear you out, keep you till the next +morning, and then send you home by the jayhawkers. They didn't call them +that though, they called them bushwhackers. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux came after the War. They was the same thing as the +pateroles—they come out from them. I know where the Ku Klux home is +over here on Eighteenth and Broadway. That is where they broke up. It +ain't never been open since. (Not correct—ed.) +</p> +<p> +"I saw the Yankees come in the yard on the Webb place. That was in the +time of the War. The old man got on his horse and flew. The Yankees went +in the smokehouse, broke it open, got all the meat they wanted. They +didn't pay you nothing in slavery time. But what meat the Yankees didn't +take for themselves, they give to the niggers. +</p> +<p> +"My folks never got anything for their work that I know of. I heard my +mother say that nobody got paid for their work. I don't know whether +they had a chance to make anything on the side or not. +</p> +<p> +"The Yankees, when they come in the yard that morning, told my father he +was free. I remember that myself. They come up riding horses and +carryin' long old guns with bayonets on them, and told him. They rode +all over the country from one place to another telling the niggers they +were free. Master didn't get a chance to tell us because he left when he +saw them comin'. +</p> +<p> +"When my mother and father were living on the plantation, they lived in +an old frame building. A portion of it was log. My father stayed with +the Calverts—his wife's white folks. At first old man Webb sold him to +them; then he bought him back and bought my mother too. They were +together when freedom came. You know they auctioned you off in slavery +time. Every year, they would, they put you up on the auction block and +buy and sell. That was down in Georgia. We was in Georgia when we was +freed—in Atlanta. My father and mother had fourteen children +altogether. My mother died the year after we came out here. That would +be about 1875. I never had but three children because my wife died +early. Two of them are dead. +</p> +<p> +"Right after freedom, my father plaited baskets and mats. He shucked +mops, put handles on rakes and did things like that in addition to his +farming. He was a blacksmith all the time too. He used to plait collars +for mules. He farmed and got his harvests in season. The other things +would be a help to him between times. +</p> +<p> +"My father came here because he thought that there was a better +situation here than in Georgia. Of course, the living was better there +because they had plenty of fruit. Then he worked on a third and fourth. +He got one bale of cotton out of every three he made. The slaves left +many a plantation and they would grow up in weeds. When a man would +clear up the ground like this and plant it down in something, he would +get all he planted on it. That was in addition to the ground that he +would contract to plant. He used to plant rice, peas, potatoes, corn, +and anything else he wanted too. It was all his'n so long as it was on +extra ground he cleared up. +</p> +<p> +"But they said, 'Cotton grows as high as a man in Arkansas.' Then they +paid a man two dollars fifty cents for picking cotton here in Arkansas +while they just paid about forty cents in Georgia. So my father came +here. Times was good when we come here. The old man cleared five bales +of cotton for himself his first year, and he raised his own corn. He +bought a pony and a cow and a breeding hog out of the first year's +money. He died about thirty-five years ago. +</p> +<p> +"When I was coming along I did public work after I became a grown man. +First year I made crops with him and cleared two bales for myself at +twelve and a half cents a pound. The second year I hired out by the +month at forty-five dollars per month and board. I had to buy my clothes +of course. After seven years I went to doing work as a millwright here +in Arkansas. I stayed at that eighteen months. Then I steamboated. +</p> +<p> +"We had a captain on that steamboat that never called any man by his +name. We rolled cotton down the hill to the boat and loaded it on, and +if you weren't a good man, that cotton got wet. I never wetted my +cotton. But jus' the same, I heard what the others heard. One day after +we had finished loading, I thought I'd tell him something. The men +advised me not to. He was a rough man, and he carried a gun in his +pocket and a gun in his shirt. I walked up to him and said, 'Captain, I +don't know what your name is, but I know you's a white man. I'm a +nigger, but I got a name jus' like you have. My name's Webb. If you call +Webb, I'll come jus' as quick as I will for any other name and a lot +more willing. If you don't want to say Webb, you can jus' say "Let's +go," and you'll find me right there.' He looked at me a moment, and then +he said, 'Where you from?' I said, 'I'm from Georgia, but I came on this +boat from Little Hock.' He put his arm around my shoulder and said, +'Come on upstairs.' We had two or three drinks upstairs, and he said, +'You and your pardner are the only two men I have that is worth a damn.' +Then he said, 'But you are right; you have a name, and you have a right +to be called by it.' And from then on, he quit callin' us out of our +names. +</p> +<p> +"But I only stayed on the boat six months. It wasn't because of the +captain. Them niggers was bad. They gambled all the time, and I gambled +with them. But they wouldn't stop at that. They would argue and fight +and cut and shoot. A man would shoot a man down, and then kick him off +into the river. Then when there was roll call, nobody would know what +became of him. I didn't like that. I knew that I was goin' to kill +somebody if I stayed on that boat 'cause I didn't intend for nobody to +kill me. So I stopped. +</p> +<p> +"After that, I went back to the man that I worked for the month for and +stayed with him till I married. I took care of the stock. I was only +married once. My wife died the fourteenth of October. We had three +children, and I have one daughter living. +</p> +<p> +"I have voted often. I never had no trouble. I am a colored man and I +ain't got nothin' but my character, but I take care of that. I let them +know I am in Arkansas. I ain't been out of Arkansas but to Memphis and +Vicksburg, and I took them trips on the boat I was working on. I was a +good man then. +</p> +<p> +"I can't say nothing about these wild-headed young people. They ain't +got no sense. Take God to handle them. +</p> +<p> +"Some parts of politics are all right and some are all wrong. It is like +Grant. He was straddled the fence part of the time. I believe Roosevelt +wants eight more years. Of course, he did a great deal for the people +but the working man isn't getting enough money. Prices are so high and +wages so low that a man keeps up to the grindstone and never gets ahead. +They don't mean for a colored man to prosper by money. Senator Robinson +said a nigger wasn't worth but fifty cents a day. But the nigger is +coming anyhow. He is stinching hisself and doing without. The young +folks ain't doing it though. These young folks doing every devilishment +on earth they can. Look at that boy they caught the other day who had +robbed twenty houses. This young race ain't goin' to stan' what I stood +for. They goin' to school every day but they ain't learning nothin'. +What will take us through this tedious journey through the world is his +manners, his principle, and his behavior. Money ain't goin' to do it. +You can't get by without principles, manner, and good behavior. Niggers +can't do it. And white folks can't either." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsAlfred"></a> +<h3>Pine Bluff District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Name of Interviewer: Martin - Barker<br> +Subject: (Negro Lore)--Ex-Slave<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Alfred Wells<br> +Place of Residence: <br> +Occupation: <br> +Age: 77</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +I has de eye of an eagle. One in my haid, de other in my chest. +Sometimes us slaves would stay out later at night than ole marster seid +we could and they send the patrols out for us. +</p> +<p> +And we started a song; "Run nigger run, the petlo' catch you, run nigger +run, its almost day." +</p> +<p> +My brother run off and hid in the pasture. I wuz a small boy, dey called +me nigger cowboy, cause I drive de cows up at night, and took em to de +paster in the mornings. +</p> +<p> +I knowed my brother runned off, but I wouldn't tell on him. He run off +to join the Yankees. They never found him, although, they used the +nigger dogs, who were taken out by men who were looking for runaway +nigger slaves. +</p> +<p> +Ef I had my choice, I'd ruther be a slave. But we cant always have our +ruthers. Them times I had good food, plenty to wear, and no more work +than was good for me. +</p> +<p> +Now I is kinder miliated, when I think of what a high stepper I used to +be. Having, to hang around with a sack on my back begging de government +to keep me fum starving. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsDouglas"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Douglas Wells<br> + 1419 Alabama Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 83 </h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'se just a kid 'bout six or seven when the war started and 'bout ten +or twelve when it ceasted. +</p> +<p> +"I'se born in Mississippi on Miss Nancy Davis' plantation. Old Jeff +Davis was some relation. +</p> +<p> +"My brother Jeff jined the Yankees but I never seen none till peace was +declared. +</p> +<p> +"I heered the old folks talkin' and they said they was fightin' to keep +the people slaves. +</p> +<p> +"I 'member old mistress, Miss Nancy. She was old when I was a kid. She +had a big, large plantation. She had a lot of hands and big quarter +houses. Oh, I 'member you could go three miles this way and three miles +that way. Oh, she had a big plantation. I reckon it was mighty near big +as this town. I 'member they used to take the cotton and hide it in the +woods. I guess it was to keep the Yankees from gettin' it. +</p> +<p> +"I lived in the quarters with my father and mother and we stayed there +after the war—long time after the war. I stayed there till I got to be +grown. I continued there. I 'member her house and yard. Had a big yard. +</p> +<p> +"I can read some. Learned it at Miss Nancy Davis' plantation after the +war. They had a little place where they had school. I went to church +some a long time ago. +</p> +<p> +"Abraham Lincoln was a white man. He fought in the time of the war, +didn't he? Oh, yes, he issued freedom. The Yankees and the Rebels +fought. +</p> +<p> +"After the war I worked at farm work. I ain't did no real hard work for +over a year." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsJohn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: John Wells, Edmondson, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born down here at Edmondson, Arkansas. My owner was a captain in +the Rebel War (Civil War). He run us off to Texas close to Greenville. +He was keeping us from the Yankees. In fact my father had planned to go +to the Yankees. My mother died on the way to Texas close to the Arkansas +line. She was confined and the child died too. We went in a wagon. Uncle +Tom and his wife and Uncle Granville went too. He left his wife. She +lived on another white man's farm. My master was Captain R. Campbell +Jones. He took us to Texas. He and my father come back in the same wagon +we went to Texas in. My father (Joe Jones Wells) told Captain R. +Campbell Jones if he didn't let him come back here that he would be here +when he got here—beat him back. That's what he told him. Captain +brought him on back with him. +</p> +<p> +"What didn't we do in Texas? Hooeee! I had five hundred head of sheep +belonging to J. Gardner, a Texan, to herd every day—twice a day. Carry +'em off in the morning early and watch 'em and fetch 'em back b'fore +dark. I was a shepherd boy is right. I liked the job till the snow +cracked my feet open. No, I didn't have no shoes. Little round cactuses +stuck in my feet. +</p> +<p> +"I had shoes to wear home. Captain Jones gave leather and everything +needed to Uncle Granville. He was a shoemaker. He made us all shoes jus' +before we was to start back. Captain Jones sent the wagon back for us. +My father come back right here at Edmondson and farmed cotton and corn. +Uncle Tom and Uncle Granville raised wheat out in Texas. They didn't +have no overseer but they said they worked harder 'an ever they done in +their lives, 'fore or since. +</p> +<p> +"My father went to war with his master. Captain Jones served 'bout three +years I judge. My father went as his waiter. He got enough of war, he +said. +</p> +<p> +"Captain R. Campbell Jones had a wife, Miss Anne, and no children. I +seen mighty near enough war in Texas. They fit there. Yes ma'am, they +did. I seen soldiers in Greenville, Texas. I seen the cavalry there. +They looked so fine. Prettiest horses I ever seen. +</p> +<p> +"Freedom! Master Campbell Jones come to us and said, 'You free this +morning. The war is over.' It been over then but travel was slow. 'You +all can go back home, I'll take you, or you can go root hog or die.' We +all got to gatherin' up our belongings to come back home. Tired of no +wood neither, besides that hard work. We all share cropped with Captain +R. Campbell Jones two years. I know that. We got plenty wood without +going five or six miles like in Texas. After freedom folks got to +changing 'bout to do better I reckon. I been farmin' right here all my +life. We didn't have a lot to eat out in Texas neither. Mother was a +farm woman too. +</p> +<p> +"I never seen a Ku Klux. Bad Ku Klux sound sorter like good Santa Claus. +I heard 'em say it was real. I never seen neither one. +</p> +<p> +"I did own ten acres of land. I own a home now. +</p> +<p> +"My father drove a grub wagon from Memphis to Lost Swamp Bottom—near +Edmondson—when they built this railroad through here. +</p> +<p> +"Father never voted. I have voted several times. +</p> +<p> +"Present times is tougher now than before it come on. Things not going +like it ought somehow. We wants more pension. Us old folks needs a good +living 'cause we ain't got much more time down here. +</p> +<p> +"Present generation—they are slack—I means they slack on their +parents, don't see after them. They can get farm work to do. They waste +their money more than they ought. Some folks purty nigh hungry. That is +for a fact the way it is going. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Edmondson, Arkansas</b></p> +<p> +"Master Henry Edmondson owned all the land to the Chatfield place to +Lehi, Arkansas. He owned four or five thousand acres of land. It was +bottoms and not cleared. They had floods then, rode around in boats +sometimes. Colored folks could get land through Andy Flemming (colored +man). Mr. Henry Edmondson and whole family died with the yellow fever. +He had several children—Miss Emma, Henry, and Will I knowed. It is +probably his father buried at far side of this town. A rattlesnake bit +him. Lake Rest or Scantlin was a boat landing and that was where the +nearest white folks lived to the Edmondsons. I worked for Mr. Henry +Edmondson, the one died with yellow fever. He was easy to work for. Land +wasn't cleared out much. He was here before the Civil War. Good many +people, in fact all over there, died of yellow fever at Indian Mound. Me +and my brother waited on white folks all through that yellow fever +plague. Very few colored folks had it. None of 'em I heered tell of died +with it. White folks died in piles. Now when the smallpox raged the +colored folks had it seem like heap more and harder than white folks. +Smallpox used to rage every few years. It break out and spread. That is +the way so many colored folks come to own land and why it was named +Edmondson. Named for Master Henry—Edmondson, Arkansas. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Cynthia Ann Earle wrote a diary during the Civil War. It was +partly published in the Crittenden County Times—West Memphis +paper—Fridays, November 27 and December 4, 1936. She tells interesting +things happening. Mentions two books she is reading. She tells about a +flood, etc. She tells about visiting and spending over a thousand +dollars. Mrs. L.A. Stewart or Mrs. H.E. Weaver of Edmondson owns copies +if they cannot be obtained at the printing office at West Memphis." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsSarah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Wells<br> + 1012 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84<br> +Occupation: Field hand</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Warren County, Mississippi, on Ben Watkins' plantation. +That was my master—Ben Worthington. I don't know nothin' about the year +but it was before the war—the Civil War. I was born on Christmas day. +</p> +<p> +"Isaac Irby was my father. I don't know how you spell it. I can't read +and write. I can tell you this. My mother's dead. She's been dead since +I was twelve years old. Her name was Jane Irby. My name is Wells because +I have been married. Willis was my husband's name. I have just been +married once. I was married to him fifty years. He has been dead +thirteen years the fifteenth of October. I don't know how old I was when +I was married. But I know I am eighty-four years old now. I must have +been about twenty or twenty-one when I married. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Slave Houses</b></p> +<p> +"The slaves lived in log houses, dirt chimneys, plank floors. They had +beds made out of wood—that's all I know. I don't know where they kept +their food. They kept it in the house when they had any. The slaves +didn't have to cook much. Mars Ben had a slave to cook for them. They +all et breakfast together, and lunch in the fiel'. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Food and Cooking</b></p> +<p> +"There was a great big shed. They'd all go up there and eat—the slaves +would all go up and eat. I don't know what the grown folks had. They +used to give us children milk and corn bread for breakfast. They'd give +us greens, peas, and all like that for dinner. Didn't know nothin' about +no lunch. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Work and Runaways; Day's Work</b></p> +<p> +"My mother and father worked in the field hoeing, plowing and all like +that—doing whatever they told 'em to do. They raised corn and ground +meal. Some of the slaves would pick five hundred pounds of cotton in a +day; some of them would pick three hundred pounds; and some of them only +picked a hundred. IF YOU DIDN'T PICK TWO HUNDRED FIFTY POUNDS, THEY'D +PUNISH YOU, put you in the stocks. If you'd run off, they put the nigger +hounds behind you. I never run off, but my mother run off. +</p> +<p> +"She would go in the woods. I don't know where she'd go after she'd get +in the woods. She would go in the woods and hide somewheres. She'd take +somethin' to eat with her. I couldn't find her myself. She take +somethin' to eat with her. She didn't know what flour bread was. I don't +remember what she'd take—somethin' she could carry. Sometimes she would +stay in the woods two months, sometimes three months. They'd pay for the +nigger hounds and let them chase her back. She'd try to get away. She +never took me with her when she ran away. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Buying and Selling</b></p> +<p> +"My mother and her sister were bought in old Virginny. Ben Watkins was +the one that bought her. He bought my father too. Then he sold my father +to the Leightons. Leighton bought my father from Ben Watkins for a +carriage driver. I was never bought nor sold. I was born on Ben Watkins' +plantation and freed on it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> +<p> +"I've heered them say the pateroles is out. I don't know who they was. I +know they'd whip you. I was a child then. I would just know what I was +told mostly. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> +<p> +"The Yankees told my mother she was free. They had on blue clothes. They +said them was the Yankees. I don't know what they told her. I know they +said she was free. That's all I know. +</p> +<p> +"Sometimes the soldiers would do right smart damage. They set a lot of +houses on fire. They done right smart damage. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Jeff Davis</b></p> +<p> +"I have seen Jeff Davis. I never seen Lincoln. They said it was Jeff +Davis I seen. I seen him in Vicksburg. That was after the war was over. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Ku Klux Klan</b></p> +<p> +"I have heered about the Ku Klux, but I don't know what it was I heered. +They never bothered me. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Right after the War</b></p> +<p> +"Right after the war, my mother and father hired out to work. They did +most any kind of work—whatever they could get to do. Mother cooked. +Father would generally do house cleaning. Mother didn't live long after +the war. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Blood Poisoning</b></p> +<p> +"I lost my finger because of blood poisoning. I had a scratch on my +finger. Pulled a hangnail out of it. I went around a lady who had a high +fever and she asked me to sponge her off and I did it. I got the finger +in the water that I sponged with and it got blood poisoned. I like to +have died. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Father's Death</b></p> +<p> +"I was married and had three children when my father died. I don't know +what he died with nor what year. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had had seven children—all girls. I had seven children. But +three of mine were boys and four were girls. Ain't none of them living +now. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Little Rock</b></p> +<p> +"My son was living in Little Rock and he kept after me to come here and +I come. After I come, he left and went to Kansas City. He died there. I +used to do laundry work. I quit that. I commenced to do sellin' for +different companies. I sold for Mack Brady, Crawford & Reeves, and a lot +of 'em. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> +<p> +"I don't know what I think about the young people. They ain't nothin' +like I was when I was a gal. Things have changed since I come along. I +better not say what I think." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +The interviewee says she is eighty-four, and her story hangs together. +Her husband died thirteen years ago, and they had been married fifty +years when he died. She "recollects" being about twenty years old when +she married. She says she was about twelve years old when her mother +died, one year after the close of the Civil War. This data seems to be +rather conclusive on the age of eighty-four. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WellsSarahWilliams"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Williams Wells, Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1866</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I jess can't tell much; my memory fails me. My white folks was John and +Mary Williams but I was born two years after the surrender. Soon after +the surrender they went to Lebanon, Tennessee. My folks stayed on wha I +was born round in Murry County. My father was killed after the war but I +was little. My mother died same year I married. I heard em say there was +John and Frank. They may be living over there now. I heard em talking +bout war times. They said my father was a blacksmith in the war. I come +here wid four little children on a ticket to Crocketts Bluff. We was +sick all that year. Made a fine crop. The man let another man have us to +work. He was a colored man. His wife she was mean to us. She never come +to see or do one thing when we all had fever. The babies nearly starved. +Took all for doctor bills and medicine. Had $12 when all bills settled +out of the whole crop. In all I had fifteen children. But two girls and +one boy all that livin now. I farmed and washed and ironed all my life. +My husband was born a slave. (He recently died.) +</p> +<p> +"The present generation ain't got no religion. They dances and cuts up a +heap. They don't care nothing bout settlin down. When they marry now, +that man say he got the law on her. She belongs to him. He thinks he can +make her do like he wants her all the time and they don't get along. Now +that's what I hear round. I sho got married and we got along good till +he died. We treated one another best we knowed how. The times is what +the folks making it. Time ain't no different, is like the folks make. +This depression is whut the folks is making. Some so scared they won't +get it all. They leave mighty little for the rest to get. They ain't +nothin matter with nothin but the greedy people want it all to split +through wid. I don't know what going to come of it all. Nothin I tell +you bout it ain't no good. Young folks done smarter than I is. They +don't listen to nobody." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WesleyJohn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: John Wesley, Helena, Arkansas<br> +Age: ?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was full grown when the Civil War come on. I was a slave till +'mancipation. I was born close to Lexington, Kentucky. My master in +Kentucky was Master Griter. He was 'fraid er freedom. Father belong to +Averys in Tennessee. He was a farm hand. They wouldn't sell him. I was +sold to Master Boone close to Moscow. I was sold on a scaffold high as +that door (twelve feet). I seen a lot of children sold on that scaffold. +I fell in the hands of George Coggrith. We come to Helena in wagons. We +crossed the river out from Memphis to Hopefield. I lived at Wittsburg, +Arkansas during the war. They smuggled us about from the Yankees and +took us to Texas. Before the war come on we had to fight the Indians +back. They tried to sell us in Texas. George Coggrith's wife died. +Mother was the cook for all the hands and the white folks too. She +raised two boys and three girls for him. She went on raising his +children during the war and after the war. During the war we hid out and +raised cotton and corn. We hid in the woods. The Yankees couldn't make +much out in the woods and canebrakes. We stayed in Texas about a year. +Four years after freedom we didn't know we was free. We was on his farm +up at Wittsburg. That is near Madison, Arkansas. Mother wouldn't let the +children get far off from our house. She was afraid the Indians would +steal the children. They stole children or I heard they did. The wild +animals and snakes was one thing we had to look out for. Grown folks and +children all kept around home unless you had business and went on a +trip. +</p> +<p> +"My wife died three years ago. I stay with a grandchild. I got a boy but +I don't know where he is now. +</p> +<p> +"I had a acre and a home. I got in debt and they took my place. +</p> +<p> +"I voted. The last time for President Wilson. We got a good President +now. I voted both kinds of tickets some. I think they called me a +Democrat. I quit voting. I'm too old. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed in my young days. I oil milled. I saw milled. I still black +smithing (in Helena now). I make one or two dollars a week. Work is hard +to git. Times is tight. I don't get help 'ceptin' some friend bring us +some work. I stay up here all time nearly. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know about the young generation. +</p> +<p> +"Well, we had a gin. During of the war it got burnt and lots of bales of +cotton went 'long with it. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux come about and drink water. They wanted folks to stay at +home and work. That what they said. We done that. We didn't know we was +free nohow. We wasn't scared." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WesleyRobert"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Robert Wesley, Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Shelby County, Alabama. My parents was Mary and Thomas +Wesley. Their master was Mary and John Watts. +</p> +<p> +"John Watts tried to keep me. I stayed round him all time and rode up +behind him on his horse. He was a soldier. +</p> +<p> +"Both my parents was sold but I don't know how it was done. There was +thirteen children in our family. The white folks had a picnic and took +colored long to do round. Some heard bout freedom and went home tellin' +bout it. We stayed on and worked. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux sure did run some of em. Seem like they didn't know what +freedom meant. Some of em run off and kept goin'. Never did get back. I +don't know a thing bout the Ku Klux. I heard em say they got whoopin's +for doin' too much visitin'. I was a baby so I don't know. +</p> +<p> +"I do not vote. I voted for McKinley in Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"I been farmin' all my life. I got one hog and a garden, three little +grand babies. My daughter died and their papa went off and left em. +Course I took em—had to. I pay $1 house rent. I get $12 from the PWA. +</p> +<p> +"The times is mighty fast. I recken the young folks do fair. There has +been big changes since I come on." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WesmolandMaggie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Maggie Wesmoland, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Arkansas in slavery time beyond Des Arc. My parents was +sold in Mississippi. They was brought to Arkansas. I never seed my +father after the closing of the war. He had been refugeed to Texas and +come back here, then he went on back to Mississippi. Mama had seventeen +children. She had six by my stepfather. When my stepfather was mustered +out at De Valls Bluff he come to Miss (Mrs.) Holland's and got mama and +took her on wid him. I was give to Miss Holland's daughter. She married +a Cargo. The Hollands raised me and my sister. I never seen mama after +she left. My mother was Jane Holland and my father was Smith Woodson. +They lived on different places here in Arkansas. I had a hard time. I +was awfully abused by the old man that married Miss Betty. She was my +young mistress. He was poor and hated Negroes. He said they didn't have +no feeling. He drunk all the time. He never had been used to Negroes and +he didn't like em. He was a middle age man but Miss Betty Holland was in +her teens. +</p> +<p> +"No, mama didn't have as hard a time as I had. She was Miss Holland's +cook and wash woman. Miss Betty told her old husband, 'Papa don't beat +his Negroes. He is good to his Negroes.' He worked overseers in the +field. Nothing Miss Betty ever told him done a bit of good. He didn't +have no feeling. I had to go in a trot all the time. I was scared to +death of him—he beat me so. I'm scarred up all over now where he lashed +me. He would strip me start naked and tie my hands crossed and whoop me +till the blood ooze out and drip on the ground when I walked. The flies +blowed me time and again. Miss Betty catch him gone, would grease my +places and put turpentine on them to kill the places blowed. He kept a +bundle of hickory switches at the house all the time. Miss Betty was +good to me. She would cry and beg him to be good to me. +</p> +<p> +"One time the cow kicked over my milk. I was scared not to take some +milk to the house, so I went to the spring and put some water in the +milk. He was snooping round (spying) somewhere and seen me. He beat me +nearly to death. I never did know what suit him and what wouldn't. +Didn't nothing please him. He was a poor man, never been used to nothin' +and took spite on me everything happened. They didn't have no children +while I was there but he did have a boy before he died. He died fore I +left Dardanelle. When Miss Betty Holland married Mr. Cargo she lived +close to Dardanelle. That is where he was so mean to me. He lived in the +deer and bear hunting country. +</p> +<p> +"He went to town to buy them some things for Christmas good while after +freedom—a couple or three years. Two men come there deer hunting every +year. One time he had beat me before them and on their way home they +went to the Freemens bureau and told how he beat me and what he done it +for—biggetness. He was a biggity acting and braggy talking old man. +When he got to town they asked him if he wasn't hiding a little Negro +girl, ask if he sent me to school. He come home. I slept on a bed made +down at the foot of their bed. That night he told his wife what all he +said and what all they ask him. He said he would kill whoever come there +bothering about me. He been telling that about. He told Miss Betty they +would fix me up and let me go stay a week at my sister's Christmas. He +went back to town, bought me the first shoes I had had since they took +me. They was brogan shoes. They put a pair of his sock on me. Miss Betty +made the calico dress for me and made a body out of some of his pants +legs and quilted the skirt part, bound it at the bottom with red +flannel. She made my things nice—put my underskirt in a little frame +and quilted it so it would be warm. Christmas day was a bright warm day. +In the morning when Miss Betty dressed me up I was so proud. He started +me off and told me how to go. +</p> +<p> +"I got to the big creek. I got down in the ditch—couldn't get across. I +was running up and down it looking for a place to cross. A big old mill +was upon the hill. I could see it. I seen three men coming, a white man +with a gun and two Negro men on horses or mules. I heard one say, +'Yonder she is.' Another said, 'It don't look like her.' One said, 'Call +her.' One said, 'Margaret.' I answered. They come to me and said, 'Go to +the mill and cross on a foot log.' I went up there and crossed and got +upon a stump behind my brother-in-law on his horse. I didn't know him. +The white man was the man he was share croppin' with. They all lived in +a big yard like close together. I hadn't seen my sister before in about +four years. Mr. Cargo told me if I wasn't back at his house New Years +day he would come after me on his horse and run me every step of the way +home. It was nearly twenty-five miles. He said he would give me the +worst whooping I ever got in my life. I was going back, scared not to be +back. Had no other place to live. +</p> +<p> +"When New Year day come the white man locked me up in a room in his +house and I stayed in there two days. They brought me plenty to eat. I +slept in there with their children. Mr. Cargo never come after me till +March. He didn't see me when he come. It started in raining and cold and +the roads was bad. When he come in March I seen him. I knowed him. I lay +down and covered up in leaves. They was deep. I had been in the woods +getting sweet-gum when I seen him. He scared me. He never seen me. This +white man bound me to his wife's friend for a year to keep Mr. Cargo +from getting me back. The woman at the house and Mr. Cargo had war +nearly about me. I missed my whoopings. I never got none that whole +year. It was Mrs. Brown, twenty miles from Dardanelle, they bound me +over to. I never got no more than the common run of Negro children but +they wasn't mean to me. +</p> +<p> +"When I was at Cargo's, he wouldn't buy me shoes. Miss Betty would have +but in them days the man was head of his house. Miss Betty made me +moccasins to wear out in the snow—made them out of old rags and pieces +of his pants. I had risings on my feet and my feet frostbite till they +was solid sores. He would take his knife and stob my risings to see the +matter pop way out. The ice cut my feet. He cut my foot on the side with +a cowhide nearly to the bone. Miss Betty catch him outer sight would +doctor my feet. Seem like she was scared of him. He wasn't none too good +to her. +</p> +<p> +"He told his wife the Freemens Bureau said turn that Negro girl loose. +She didn't want me to leave her. He despised nasty Negroes he said. One +of them fellows what come for me had been to Cargo's and seen me. He was +the Negro man come to show Patsy's husband and his share cropper where I +was at. He whooped me twice before them deer hunters. They visited him +every spring and fall hunting deer but they reported him to the Freemens +Bureau. They knowed he was showing off. He overtook me on a horse one +day four or five years after I left there. I was on my way from school. +I was grown. He wanted me to come back live with them. Said Miss Betty +wanted to see me so bad. I was so scared I lied to him and said yes to +all he said. He wanted to come get me a certain day. I lied about where +I lived. He went to the wrong place to get me I heard. I was afraid to +meet him on the road. He died at Dardanelle before I come way from +there. +</p> +<p> +"After I got grown I hired out cooking at $1.25 a week and then $1.50 a +week. When I was a girl I ploughed some. I worked in the field a mighty +little but I have done a mountain of washing and ironing in my life. I +can't tell you to save my life what a hard time I had when I was growing +up. My daughter is a blessing to me. She is so good to me. +</p> +<p> +"I never knowed nor seen the Ku Klux. The Bushwhackers was awful after +the war. They went about stealing and they wouldn't work. +</p> +<p> +"Conditions is far better for young folks now than when I come on. They +can get chances I couldn't get they could do. My daughter is tied down +here with me. She could do washings and ironings if she could get them +and do it here at home. I think she got one give over to her for awhile. +The regular wash woman is sick. It is hard for me to get a living since +I been sick. I get commodities. But the diet I am on it is hard to get +it. The money is the trouble. I had two strokes and I been sick with +high blood pressure three years. We own our house. Times is all right if +I was able to work and enjoy things. I don't get the Old Age Pension. I +reckon because my daughter's husband has a job—I reckon that is it. I +can't hardly buy milk, that is the main thing. The doctor told me to eat +plenty milk. +</p> +<p> +"I never voted." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WestCalvin"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Calvin West, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 68</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Mother belong to Parson Renfro. He had a son named Jim Renfro. She was +a cook and farm hand too. I never heard her speak much of her owners. +Pa's owner was Dr. West and Miss Jensie West. He had a son Orz West and +his daughter was Miss Lillie West. I never was around their owners. Some +was dead before I come on. My pa was a cripple man. His leg was drawn +around with rheumatism. During slavery he would load up a small cart wid +cider and ginger cakes and go sell it out. He sold ginger cakes two for +a nickel and I never heard how he sold the cider. I heard him tell close +speriences he had with the patrollers. Some of the landowners didn't +want him trespassing on their places. He got a part of the money he sold +out for. I judge from what he said his owner got part for the wagon and +horse. He sold some at stores before freedom. He farmed too. His name +was Phillip West and mother's name was Lear West. He was a crack hand at +making ginger cakes. He sold wagon loads in town on Saturday till he +died. I was a boy nearly grown. They had ten children in all. I was born +in Tate County, Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. Miller had land here. I didn't work for him but he wanted me to +come here and work his land. He give us tickets. He said this was new +land and we could do better. We work a lot and make big crops and don't +hardly get a living out of it. We come on the train here. +</p> +<p> +"We come in 1920. The way we got down here now it is bad. We make big +crops and don't get much for it. We have no place to raise things to +help out and pay big prices for everything. I work. But times is hard. +That is the very reason it is hard. We got no place to raise nothing. +(Hard road and ditch in front and cotton field all around it except a +few feet of padded dirt and a wood pile.) Times is good and if a fellow +could ever get a little ahead I believe he could stay ahead. Since my +wife been sick we jes' can make it. +</p> +<p> +"We never called for no help. She cooked and I worked. She signed up but +it will be a long time, they said, till they could get to her." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WestMaryMays"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Mays West, Widener, Arkansas<br> +Age: 65</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My parents' names was Josie Vesey and Henry Mays. They had ten children +and five lived to be full grown. I was born in Tate County, Mississippi. +Mother died in childbirth when she was twenty-eight years old. I'm the +mother of twelve and got five living. I been cooking out for white +people since I was nine years old. I am a good cook they all tell me and +I tries to be clean with my cooking. +</p> +<p> +"Mother died before I can remember much about her. My father said he had +to work before day and all day and till after night in the spring and +fall of the year. They ploughed with oxen and mules and horses all. He +said how they would rest the teams and feed and still they would go on +doing something else. They tromped cotton at night by torchlight. +Tromped it in the wagons to get off to the gin early next morning. +</p> +<p> +"In the winter they built fences and houses and got up wood and cleared +new ground. They made pots of lye hominy and lye soap the same day. They +had a ashhopper set all time. In the summer is when they ditched if they +had any of that to do. Farming has been pretty much the same since I was +a child. I have worked in the field all my life. I cook in the morning +and go to the field all evening. +</p> +<p> +"We just had a hard time this winter. I had a stroke in October and had +to quit cooking. (Her eye is closed on her left side—ed.) I love farm +life. The flood last year got us behind too. We could do fine if I had +my health." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WethingtonSylvester"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sylvester Wethington<br> + Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 77</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I recollect seeing the Malish (Malitia) pass up and down the road. I +can tell you two things happened at our house. The Yankee soldiers come +took all the stock we had all down to young mistress' mule. They come +fer it. Young mistress got a gun, went out there, put her side saddle on +the mule and climbed up. They let her an' that mule both be. Nother +thing they had a wall built in betwix er room and let hams and all kinds +provisions swing down in thor. It went unnoticed. I recken it muster +been 3 ft. wide and long as the room. Had to go up in the loft from de +front porch. The front porch wasn't ceiled but a place sawed out so you +could get up in the loft. They used a ladder and went up there bout once +a week. They swung hams and meal, flour and beef. They swung sacks er +corn down in that place. That all the place where they could keep us a +thing in de world to eat. They come an' got bout all we had. Look like +starvation ceptin' what we had stored way." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitakerJoe"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Joe Whitaker, Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 70 plus</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'm a blacksmith; my pa was a fine blacksmith. He was a blacksmith in +the old war (Civil War). He never got a pension. He said he loss his +sheep skin. His owners was George and Bill Whitaker. Mother always said +her owners was pretty good. I never heard my pa speak of them in that +way. They was both born in Tennessee. She was never sold. I was born in +Murray County, Tennessee too. My mother was named Fronie Whitaker and pa +Ike Whitaker. Mother had eleven children. My wife is a full-blood +Cherokee Indian. We have ten children and twenty-three grandchildren. +</p> +<p> +"I don't have a word to say against the times; they are close at +present. Nor a word to say about the next generation. I think times is +progressing and I think the people are advancing some too." +</p> +<br> +<p> +[TR: The following is typed, but scratched out by hand.]<br> +<b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Some say his wife is a small part African. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhiteJuliaA"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg<br> +Person interviewed: Mrs. Julia A. White, 3003 Cross St.,<br> + Little Rock, Ark.<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +Idiom and dialect are lacking in this recorded interview. Mrs. White's +conversation was entirely free from either. On being questioned about +this she explained that she was reared in a home where fairly correct +English was used. +<br> +</p> +<p> +My cousin Emanuel Armstead could read and write, and he kept the records +of our family. At one time he was a school director. Of course, that was +back in the early days, soon after the war closed. +</p> +<p> +My father was named James Page Jackson because he was born on the old +Jackson plantation in Lancaster county, Virginia. He named one of his +daughters Lancaster for a middle name in memory of his old home. Clarice +Lancaster Jackson was her full name. A man named Galloway bought my +father and brought him to Arkansas. Some called him by the name of +Galloway, but my father always had all his children keep the name +Jackson. There were fourteen of us, but only ten lived to grow up. He +belonged to Mr. Galloway at the time of my birth, but even at that, I +did not take the name Galloway as it would seem like I should. My father +was a good carpenter; he was a fine cook, too; learned that back in +Virginia. I'll tell you something interesting. The first cook stove ever +brought to this town was one my father had his master to bring. He was +cook at the Anthony House. You know about that, don't you? It was the +first real fine hotel in Little Rock. When father went there to be head +cook, all they had to cook on was big fireplaces and the big old Dutch +ovens. Father just kept on telling about the stoves they had in +Virginia, and at last they sent and got him one; it had to come by boat +and took a long time. My father was proud that he was the one who set +the first table ever spread in the Anthony House. +</p> +<p> +You see, it was different with us, from lots of slave folks. Some +masters hired their slaves out. I remember a drug store on the corner of +Main and Markham; it was McAlmont's drug store. Once my father worked +there; the money he earned, it went to Mr. Galloway, of course. He said +it was to pay board for mother and us little children. +</p> +<p> +My mother came from a fine family,—the Beebe family. Angeline Beebe was +her name. You've heard of the Beebe family, of course. Roswell Beebe at +one time owned all the land that Little Rock now sets on. I was born in +a log cabin where Fifth and Spring streets meet. The Jewish Synagogue is +on the exact spot. Once we lived at Third and Cumberland, across from +that old hundred-year-old-building where they say the legislature once +met. What you call it? Yes, that's it; the Hinterlider building. It was +there then, too. My father and mother had the kind of wedding they had +for slaves, I guess. Yes, ma'am, they did call them "broom-stick +weddings". I've heard tell of them. Yes, ma'am, the master and mistress, +when they find a couple of young slave folks want to get married, they +call them before themselves and have them confess they want to marry. +Then they hold the broom, one at each end, and the young folks told to +jump over. Sometimes they have a new cabin fixed all for them to start +in. After Peace, a minister came and married my father and mother +according to the law of the church and of the land. +</p> +<p> +The master's family was thoughtful in keeping our records in their own +big family Bible. All the births and deaths of the children in my +father's family was in their Bible. After Peace, father got a big Bible +for our family, and—wait, I'll show you.... Here they are, all copied +down just like out of old master's Bible.... Here's where my father and +mother died, over on this page. Right here's my own children. This space +is for me and my husband. +</p> +<p> +No ma'am, it don't make me tired to talk. But I need a little time to +recall all the things you want to know 'bout. I was so little when +freedom came I just can't remember. I'll tell you, directly. +</p> +<p> +I remember that the first thing my father did was to go down to a +plantation where the bigger children was working, and bring them all +home, to live together as one family. That was a plantation where my +mother had been; a man name Moore—James Moore—owned it. I don't know +whether he had bought my mother from Beebe or not. I can remember two +things plain what happened there. I was little, but can still see them. +One of my mother's babies died and Master went to Little Rock on a horse +and carried back a little coffin under his arm. The mistress had brought +mother a big washing. She was working under the cover of the wellhouse +and tears was running down her face. When master came back, he said: +"How come you are working today, Angeline, when your baby is dead?" +She showed him the big pile of clothes she had to wash, as mistress said. He +said: "There is plenty of help on this place what can wash. You come on +in and sit by your little baby, and don't do no more work till after the +funeral." He took up the little dead body and laid it in the coffin with +his own hands. I'm telling you this for what happened later on. +</p> +<p> +A long time after peace, one evening mother heard a tapping at the door. +When she went, there was her old master, James Moore. "Angeline," he +said, "you remember me, don't you?" Course she did. Then he told her he +was hungry and homeless. A man hiding out. The Yankees had taken +everything he had. Mother took him in and fed him for two or three days +till he was rested. The other thing clear to my memory is when my uncle +Tom was sold. Another day when mother was washing at the wellhouse and I +was playing around, two white men came with a big, broad-shouldered +colored man between them. Mother put her arms around him and cried and +kissed him goodbye. A long time after, I was watching one of my brothers +walk down a path. I told mother that his shoulders and body look like +that man she kissed and cried over. "Why honey," she says to me, +"can you remember that?" Then she told me about my uncle Tom being +sold away. +</p> +<p> +So you see, Miss, it's a good thing you are more interested in what I +know since slave days. I'll go on now. +</p> +<p> +The first thing after freedom my mother kept boarders and done fine +laundry work. She boarded officers of the colored Union soldiers; she +washed for the officers' families at the Arsenal. Sometimes they come +and ask her to cook them something special good to eat. Both my father +and mother were fine cooks. That's when we lived at Third and +Cumberland. I stayed home till I was sixteen and helped with the cooking +and washing and ironing. I never worked in a cottonfield. The boys did. +All us girls were reared about the house. We were trained to be lady's +maids and houseworkers. I married when I was sixteen. That husband died +four years later, and the next year I married this man, Joel Randolph +White. Married him in March, 1879. In those days you could put a house +on leased ground. Could lease it for five years at a time. My father put +up a house on Tenth and Scott. Old man Haynie owned the land and let us +live in the house for $25.00 a year until father's money was all gone; +then we had to move out. The first home my father really owned was at +1220 Spring street, what is now. Course then, it was away out in the +country. A white lawyer from the north—B.F. Rice was his name—got my +brother Jimmie to work in his office. Jimmie had been in school most all +his life and was right educated for colored boy then. Mr. Rice finally +asked him how would he like to study law. So he did; but all the time he +wanted to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell Jimmie to go on studying law. It +is a good education; it would help him to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell +my father he can own his own home by law. So he make out the papers and +take care of everything so some persons can't take it away. All that +time my family was working for Mr. Rice and finally got the home paid +for, all but the last payment, and Mr. Rice said Jimmie's services was +worth that. So we had a nice home all paid for at last. We lived there +till father died in 1879, and about ten years more. Then sold it. +</p> +<p> +My father had more money than many ex-slaves because he did what the +Union soldiers told him. They used to give him "greenbacks" money and +tell him to take good care of it. You see, miss, Union money was not any +good here. Everything was Confederate money. You couldn't pay for a +dime's worth even with a five dollar bill of Union money then. The +soldiers just keep on telling my father to take all the greenbacks he +could get and hide away. There wasn't any need to hide it, nobody wanted +it. Soldiers said just wait; someday the Confederate money wouldn't be +any good and greenbacks would be all the money we had. So that's how my +father got his money. +</p> +<p> +If you have time to listen, miss, I'd like to tell you about a wonderful +thing a young doctor done for my folks. It was when the gun powder +explosion wrecked my brother and sister. The soldiers at the Arsenal +used to get powder in tins called canteens. When there was a little +left—a tablespoon full or such like, they would give it to the little +boys and show them how to pour it in the palm of their hand, touch a +match to it and then blow. The burning powder would fly off their hand +without burning. We were living in a double house at Eighth and Main +then; another colored family in one side. They had lots of children, +just like us. One canteen had a lot more powder in. My brother was +afraid to pour it on his hand. He put a paper down on top of the stove +and poured it out. It was a big explosion. My little sister was standing +beside her brother and her scalp was plum blowed off and her face burnt +terribly. His hand was all gone, and his face and neck and head burnt +terribly, too. There was a young doctor live close by name Deuell. +Father ran for him. He tell my mother if she will do just exactly what +he say, their faces will come out fine. He told her to make up bread +dough real sort of stiff. He made a mask of it. Cut holes for their +eyes, nose holes and mouths, so you could feed them, you see. He told +mother to leave that on till it got hard as a rock. Then still leave it +on till it crack and come off by itself. Nobody what ever saw their +faces would believe how bad they had been burnt. Only 'round the edges +where the dough didn't cover was there any scars. Dr. Deuell only +charged my father $50.00 apiece for that grand work on my sister and +brother. +</p> +<p> +<u>Yes ma'am</u>, I'll tell you how I come to speak what you call good +English. First place, my mother and father was brought up in families +where they heard good speech. Slaves what lived in the family didn't +talk like cottonfield hands. My parents sure did believe in education. +</p> +<p> +The first free schools in Little Rock were opened by the Union for +colored children. They brought young white ladies for teachers. They had +Sunday School in the churches on Sunday. In a few years they had colored +teachers come. One is still living here in Little Rock. I wish you would +go see her. She is 90 years old now. She founded the Wesley Chapel here. +On her fiftieth anniversary my club presented her a gold medal and had +"Mother Wesley" engraved on it. Her name is Charlotte E. Stevens. She +has the first school report ever put out in Little Rock. It was in the +class of 1869. Two of my sisters were graduated from Philander Smith +College here in Little Rock and had post graduate work in Fisk +University in Nashville, Tennessee. My brothers and sisters all did well +in life. Allene married a minister and did missionary work. Cornelia was +a teacher in Dallas, Texas. Mary was a caterer in Hot Springs. Clarice +went to Colorado Springs, Colorado and was a nurse in a doctor's office. +Jimmie was the preacher, as I told you. Gus learned the drug business +and Willie got to be a painter. Our adopted sister, Molly, could do +anything, nurse, teach, manage a hotel. Yes, our parents always insisted +we had to go to school. It's been a help to me all my life. I'm the only +one now living of all my brothers and sisters. +</p> +<p> +Well ma'am, about how we lived all since freedom; it's been good till +these last years. After I married my present husband in 1879, he worked +in the Missouri Pacific railroad shops. He was boiler maker's helper. +They called it Iron Mountain shops then, though. 52 years, 6 months and +24 days he worked there. In 1922, on big strike, all men got laid off. +When they went back, they had to go as new men. Don't you see what that +done to my man? He was all ready for his pension. Yes ma'am, had worked +his full time to be pensioned by the railroad. But we have never been +able to get any retirement pension. He should have it. Urban League is +trying to help him get it. He is out on account of disability and old +age. He got his eye hurt pretty bad and had to be in the railroad +hospital a long time. I have the doctor's papers on that. Then he had a +bad fall what put him again in the hospital. That was in 1931. He has +never really been discharged, but just can't get any compensation. He +has put in his claim to the Railroad Retirement office in Washington. +I'm hoping they get to it before he dies. We're both mighty old and +feeble. He had a stroke in 1933, since he been off the railroad. +</p> +<p> +How we living now? It's mighty poorly, please believe that. In his good +years we bought this little home, but taxes so high, road assessments +and all make it more than we can keep up. My granddaughter lives with +us. She teaches, but only has school about half a year. I was trying to +educate her in the University of Wisconsin, but poor child had to quit. +In summer we try to make a garden. Some of the neighbors take in washing +and they give me ironing to do. Friends bring in fresh bread when they +bake. It takes all my granddaughter makes to keep up the mortgage and +pay all the rest. She don't have clothes decent to go. +</p> +<p> +I have about sold the last of the antiques. In old days the mistress +used to give my mother the dishes left from broken sets, odd vases and +such. I had some beautiful things, but one by one have sold them to +antique dealers to get something to help out with. My church gives me a +donation every fifth Sunday of a collection for benefit. Sometimes it is +as much as $2.50 and that sure helps on the groceries. Today I bought +four cents worth of beans and one cent worth of onions. I say you have +to cut the garment according to the cloth. You ain't even living from +hand to mouth, if the hand don't have something in it to put to the +mouth. +</p> +<p> +No ma'am, we couldn't get on relief, account of this child teaching. One +relief worker did come to see us. She was a case worker, she said. She +took down all I told her about our needs and was about ready to go when +she saw my seven hens in the yard. "Whose chickens out there?" she +asked. "I keep a few hens," I told her. "Well," she +hollered, "anybody that's able to keep chickens don't need to be on relief +roll," and she gathered up her gloves and bag and left. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, I filed for old age pension, too. It was in April, 1935 I +filed. When a year passed without hearing, I took my husband down so +they could see just how he is not able to work. They told me not to +bring him any more. Said I would get $10.00 a month. Two years went, and +I never got any. I went by myself then, and they said yes, yes, they +have my name on file, but there is no money to pay. There must be +millions comes in for sales tax. I don't know where it all goes. Of +course the white folks get first consideration. Colored folks always has +to bear the brunt. They just do, and that's all there is to it. +</p> +<p> +What do I think of the younger generation? I wouldn't speak for all. +There are many types, just like older people. It has always been like +that, though. If all young folks were like my granddaughter—I guess +there is many, too. She does all the sewing, and gardening. She paints +the house, makes the draperies and bed clothing. She can cook and do all +our laundry work. She understands raising chickens for market but just +don't have time for that. She is honest and clean in her life. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, I did vote once, a long time ago. You see, I wasn't old +enough at first, after freedom, when all the colored people could vote. +Then, for many years, women in Arkansas couldn't vote, anyhow. I can +remember when M.W. Gibbs was Police Judge and Asa Richards was a colored +alderman. No ma'am! The voting law is not fair. It's most unfair! We +colored folks have to pay just the same as the white. We pay our sales +tax, street improvement, school tax, property tax, personal property +tax, dog license, automobile license—they what have cars—; we pay +utility tax. And we should be allowed to vote. I can tell you about +three years ago a white lady come down here with her car on election day +and ask my old husband would he vote how she told him if she carried him +to the polls. He said yes and she carried him. When he got there they +told him no colored was allowed to vote in that election. Poor old man, +she didn't offer to get him home, but left him to stumble along best he +could. +</p> +<p> +I'm glad if I been able to give you some help. You've been patient with +an old woman. I can tell you that every word I have told you is true as +the gospel. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhiteJulia"></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: Another interview with J. White, by a different interviewer.]<br> +[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>Julia White</b></big>, +3003 Cross Street, Little Rock. +</p> +<p> +2. Date and time of interview— +</p> +<p> +3. Place of interview—3003 Cross 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> +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.— +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Personal History of informant</b></p> +<p> +1. Ancestry— +</p> +<p> +2. Place and date of birth—Little Rock, Arkansas, 1858 +</p> +<p> +3. Family—Two children +</p> +<p> +4. Places lived in, with dates—Little Rock all her life. +</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— +</p> +<p> +10. Other points gained in interview—She tells of accomplishments made +by the Negro race. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Text of Interview (Unedited)</b></p> +<p> +"I was born right here in Little Rock, Arkansas, eighty years ago on the +corner of Fifth and Broadway. It was in a little log house. That used to +be out in the woods. At least, that is where they told me I was born. I +was there but I don't remember it. The first place I remember was a +house on Third and Cumberland, the southwest corner. That was before the +war. +</p> +<p> +"We were living there when peace was declared. You know, my father hired +my mother's time from James Moore. He used to belong to Dick Galloway. I +don't know how that was. But I know he put my mother in that house on +Third and Cumberland while she was still a slave. And we smaller +children stayed in the house with mother, and the larger children worked +on James Moore's plantation. +</p> +<p> +"My father was at that time, I guess, you would call it, a porter at +McAlmont's drug store. He was a slave at that time but he worked there. +He was working there the day this place was taken. I'll never forget +that. It was on September 10th. We were going across Third Street, and +there was a Union woman told mamma to bring us over there, because the +soldiers were about to attack the town and they were going to have a +battle. +</p> +<p> +"I had on a pair of these brogans with brass plates on them, and they +were flapping open and I tripped up just as the rebel soldiers were +running by. One of them said, "There's a like yeller nigger, les take +her." Mrs. Farmer, the Union woman ran out and said, "No you won't; +that's my nigger." And she took us in her house. And we stayed there +while there was danger. Then my father came back from the drug store, +she said she didn't see how he kept from being killed. +</p> +<p> +"At that time, there were about four houses to the block. On the place +where we lived there was the big house, with many rooms, and then there +was the barn and a lot of other buildings. My father rented that place +and turned the outbuildings into little houses and allowed the freed +slaves to live in them till they could find another place. +</p> +<p> +"My husband was an orphan child, and the people he was living with were +George Phelps and Ann Phelps. They were freed slaves. That was after the +war. They came here and had this little boy with them, that is how I +come to meet that gentlemen over there and get acquainted with him. When +they moved away from there Phelps was caretaker of the Oakland Cemetery. +We married on the twenty-seventh day of March, 1879. I still have the +marriage license. I married twice; my first husband was George W. Glenn +and my maiden name was Jackson. I married the first time June 10, 1875. +I had two children in my first marriage. Both of than are dead. Glenn +died shortly after the birth of the last child, February 15, 1878. +</p> +<p> +"Mr. White is a mighty good man. He is put up with me all these years. +And he took mighty good care of my children, them by my first husband as +well as his own. When I was a little girl, he used to tell me that he +wouldn't have me for a wife. After we were married, I used to say to +him, 'You said you wouldn't have me, but I see you're mighty glad to get +me.' +</p> +<p> +"I have the marriage license for my second marriage. +</p> +<p> +"There's quite a few of the old ones left. Have you seen Mrs. Gillam, +and Mrs. Stephen, and Mrs. Weathers? Cora Weathers? Her name is Cora not +Clora. She's about ninety years old. She's at least ninety years old. +You say she says that she is seventy-four. That must be her insurance +age. I guess she is seventy-four at that; she had to be seventy-four +before she was ninety. When I was a girl, she was a grown woman. She was +married when my husband went to school. That has been more than sixty +years ago, because we've been married nearly sixty years. My sister Mary +was ten years older than me, and Cora Weathers was right along with her. +She knew my mother. When these people knew my mother they've been here, +because she's been dead since '94 and she would have been 110 if she had +lived. +</p> +<p> +"My mother used to feed the white prisoners—the Federal soldiers who +were being held. They paid her and told her to keep the money because it +was Union Money. You know at that time they were using Confederate +money. My father kept it. He had a little box or chest of gold and +silver money. Whenever he got any paper money, he would change it into +gold or silver. +</p> +<p> +"Mother used to make these ginger cakes—they call 'em stage planks. My +brother Jimmie would sell them. The men used to take pleasure in trying +to cheat him. He was so clever they couldn't. They never did catch him +napping. +</p> +<p> +"Somebody burnt our house; it was on a Sunday evening. They tried to say +it caught from the chimney. We all like to uv burnt up. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a carpenter, whitewasher, anything. He was a common +laborer. We didn't have contractors then like we do now. Mother worked +out in service too. Jimmie was the oldest boy. He taught school too. +</p> +<p> +"My father set the first table that was ever set in the Anthony Hotel, +he was the cause of the first stove being brought here to cook on. +</p> +<p> +"Some of the children of the people that raised my mother are still +living. They are Beebes. Roswell Beebe was a little one. They had a +colored man named Peter and he was teaching Roswell to ride and the pony +ran away. Peter stepped out to stop him and Roswell said, 'Git out of +the way Peter, and let Billie Button come'. +</p> +<p> +"I get some commodities from the welfare. But I don't get nothing like a +pension. My husband worked at the Missouri Pacific shops for fifty-two +years, and he don't git nothing neither. It was the Iron Mountain when +he first went there on June 8, 1879. He was disabled in 1932 because of +injuries received on the job in March, 1931. But they hurried him out of +the hospital and never would give him anything. That Monday morning, +they had had a loving cup given them for not having had accidents in the +plant. And at three p.m., he was sent into the hospital. He had a fall +that injured his head. They only kept him there for two days and two +hours. He was hurt in the head. Dr. Elkins himself came after him and +let him set around in the tool room. He stayed there till he couldn't do +nothing at all. +</p> +<p> +"In 1881, he got his eye hurt on the job in the service of the Missouri +Pacific. It was the Iron Mountain then. He was off about three or four +months. They didn't pay his wages while he was off. They told him they +would give him a lifetime job, but they didn't. His eye gave him trouble +for the balance of his life. Sometimes it is worse than others. He had +to go to the St. Louis Hospital quite often for about three or four +years. +</p> +<p> +"When the house on Third and Cumberland was burnt, he rebuilded it, and +the owners charged him such rent he had to move. He rebuilt it for five +hundred dollars and was to get pay in rent. The owners jumped the rent +up to twenty-five dollars a month. That way it soon took up the five +hundred dollars. Then we moved to Eighth and Main. My brother Jimmie was +in an accident there. +</p> +<p> +"He was pouring powder on a fire from an old powder horn and the flames +jumped up in the horn and exploded and crippled his hand and burnt his +face. Dr. Duel, a right young doctor, said he could cure them if father +would pay him fifty dollars a piece. My sister was burnt at the same +time as my brother. He had them make a thin dough, and put it over their +faces and he cut pieces out for their eyes, and nose, and mouth. They +left that dough on their faces and chest till the dough got hard and +peeled off by itself. It left the white skin. Gradually the face got +back to itself and took its right color again, so you couldn't tell they +had ever been burnt. The only medicine the doctor gave them was Epsom +salts. Fifty dollars for each child. I used that remedy on a school boy +once and cured him, but I didn't charge him nothing. +</p> +<p> +"I have a program which was given in 1874. They don't give programs like +that now. People wouldn't listen that long. We each of us had two and +three, and some of us had six and seven parts to learn. We learnt them +and recited them and came back the next night to give a Christmas Eve +program. You can make a copy of it if you want. +</p> +<p> +"A.C. Richmond is Mrs. Childress' brother. Anna George is Bee Daniels' +mother (Bee Daniels is Mrs. Anthony, a colored public school teacher +here). Corinne Jordan is living on Gaines between Eighth and Ninth +streets. She is about seventy-five years old now. She was about Mollie's +age and I was about five years older than Molly. Mary Riley is C.C. +Riley's sister. C.C. Riley is Haven Riley's father. C.C. is dead now. +Haven Riley was a teacher, at Philander Smith, for a while. He's a +stenographer now. August Jackson and J.W. Jackson are my brothers. W.O. +Emory became one of our pastors at Wesley. John Bush, everybody's heard +of him. He had the Mosaic temple and got a big fortune together before +he died, but his children lost it all. Annie Richmond is Annie +Childress, the wife of Professor E.C. Childress, the State Supervisor. +Corinne Winfrey turned out to be John Bush's wife. Willie Lane married +W.O. Emery. Scipio Jordan became the big man in the Tabernacle. H.H. +Gilkey went to the post office. He married Lizzie Hull. She's living +still too." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Extra Comment</b></p> +<p> +The marriage license which Mrs. White showed me, was issued March 27, +1879, by A.W. Worthen, County Clerk, per W.H.W. Booker to Julia Glen and +J.R. White. It carries the name of Reverend W.H. Crawford who was the +Pastor of Wesley Chapel Church at that time. The license was issued in +Pulaski County. +</p> + +<pre> +GRAND ENTERTAINMENT AT WESLEY CHAPEL +Wednesday Evening, Dec'r. 23, 1874 + +PROGRAMME + + +Part I + +Address by the General Manager Mr. A.C. Richmond + +Song--We Come Today By the School + +Prayer Rev. William Henry Crawford + +Declamation--My Mother's Bible Miss Annie George + +Dialogue--Three Little Graves Miss M. Upshaw and + Miss M.A. Scruggs + +Dialogue--About Heaven Miss Julia Jackson and + Miss Alice Richardson + +Declamation--Mud Pie Miss Amelia Rose + +Declamation--Ducklins and Miss Goren Jordan + Ducklins + +Dialogue--The Beggar Mr. H.H. Gilkey and + Mr. W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Work While Master Albert Pryor + You Work + +Dialogue--The Miser Mr. C.C. Riley and + Mr. Charles Hurtt, Jr. + +Declamation--Pretty Pictures Miss Cally Sanders + +Declamation--Into the Sunshine Miss Mollie Jackson + +Song--Joy Bells By the School + +Dialogue--Sharp Shooting Master Asa Richmond, + Scipio Jordan, + and Miss Laura A. Morgan + +Declamation--What I Know Master Morton Hurtt + +Declamation--The Side to Look On Miss Dora Frierson + +Dialogue--The Tattler Miss Mary Alexander, + Miss M.A. Scrugg, + Miss Mary Rose + +Declamation--Little Clara Miss Rebecca Ferguson + +Dialogue--John Williams' Choice Scipio Jordan, H.H. Gilkey + and Julia Jackson + +Declamation--A Good Rule + Miss Lilly Pryor + +Declamation--Complaint of the Poor + Miss Riley + +Dialogue--The Examination + L.H. Haney, Jackson Crawford + and John Richmond + +THE END. + + +Part II. + +Dialogue--The Maniac + +Miss Willie Lane, A.C. Richmond, + Rafe May, and Master A. Pryon + +Dialogue--Father, Dear Father; + or The Fruits of Drunkenness + +John E. Bush, W.A.M. Cypers, + Wm. Emery, Miss Coren Winfrey, + Miss Maggie Green, and others. + +Dialogue--An Awakening + +Miss Mollie Pryor and + Miss Annie Richmond + +Dialogue--Betsy and I are out + +Alex. Scruggs and W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Lily of the Valley + +Miss Mary Foster + +Dialogue--Hasty Judgment + +C.C. Riley, A.C. Richmond, + Cypers and Haney + +Declamation--The Little Shooter + +Master August Jackson + +Dialogue--Practical Lesson + +Miss Julia Jackson, and August Jackson + +Declamation--Bird and the Baby + +Miss Julia Foster + +Dialogue--Scenes in the Police Court + +Richmond, Bush, and Emery + +Ballad--Yankee Doodle Dandy + +J.E. Bush + + +Part III + +Dialogue--Colloquy in Church + +Alice Richardson and Mollie + +Declamation--Lucy Gray + +Miss Alice Moore + +Dialogue--Matrimony + +Miss Willie Lane, M.A. Scruggs, + Mary Alexander, Mr. C.C. Riley + +Dialogue--Traveler + +Morton Hurtt and Scipio Jordan + +Declamation--Truth in Parenthesis + +Alice Moore. + +Dialogue--Forty Years Ago Ales, Scruggs, and J.P. Winfrey + +Declamation--The Last Footfall Lizzie Hull + +Declamation--Gone with a John E. Bush, Miss Maggie Green, + Handsomer Man than Me and H.G. Clay + +Declamation--Golden Side Annie Richmond + +Declamation--The Union was Swan Jeffries + saved by the Colored + Volunteers + +Dialogue--Relief Aid Saving Maggie Scruggs, Mary Ross, + Society Lizzie Hull, Alice Moore, + Mary Alexander, Mollie Pryor, + Annie Fairchild, Lizzie Wind, + Julia Jackson, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Song-Dutch Band A.C. Richardson, Wm. Emery, + J.H. Haney, W.A.M. Cypers, + J.O. Alexander, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Declamation--Number One Alice Richardson + +Declamation--What to Wear, and Miss Coren Winfrey + How to Wear It + +Dialogue--A Desirable J.E. Bush, J.W. Jackson, + A.C. Richmond + +Dialogue-The Little Bill Marion Henderson, J.E. Bush, + Miss Willie Lane, Miss Laura A. + Morgan, Asa Richmond, Jr. + +Dialogue--Country Aunt's Visit Henry Jackson, Misses Allice and + Julia Crawford, Maggie Howell, + Julia Jackson + +Dialogue--Beauty and the Beast Marion Henderson, Julia Jackson, + (six Scenes) Laura Morgan, Mary Scruggs, + Mary Ross, Coren Winfrey, + Willie Lane, Lizzie Wind, + Alice Crawford, J.E. Bush, + J.P. Winfrey + +Dialogue--How not to Get M.A. Scruggs and Mary Alexander + and Answer + +Declamation--The Incidents of John Richmond + Travel +</pre> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +This program was given on one night, and the participants doubled right +back the next night on another lengthy program celebrating Christmas Eve. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interview (continued)</b></p> +<p> +"The Commissary was on the northeast corner of Third and Cumberland. +They used to call it the government commissary building. It took up a +whole half block. Mrs. Farmer, the white woman, was living in what you +call the old Henderliter Place, the building on the northwest corner, +during the War. She was a Union woman, and was the one that took us in +when the Confederate soldiers were passing and wanted to take us to +Texas with them. +</p> +<p> +"I was so small I didn't know much about things then. When peace was +declared a preacher named Hugh Brady, a white man, came here and he had +my mother and father to marry over again. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Stephens' father was one of the first school-teachers here for +colored people. There were a lot of white people who came here from the +North to teach. Peabody School used to be called the Union School. Mrs. +Stephens has the first report of the school dated 1869. It gives the +names of the directors and all. J.H. Benford was one of the Northern +teachers. Anna Ware and Louise Coffman and Miss Henley were teachers +too. +</p> +<p> +"Mrs. Stephens is the oldest colored teacher in Little Rock. The A-B-C +children didn't want the old men to teach us. So they would teach +'Lottie'—she was only twelve years old then—and she would hear our +lessons. Then at recess time, we would all get out and play together. +She was my play mama. Her father, William Wallace Andrews, the first +pastor of Wesley Chapel M.E. Church, was the head teacher and Mr. Gray +was the other. They were teaching in Wesley Chapel Church. It was then +on Eighth and Broadway. This was before Benford's time. It was just +after peace had been declared. I don't know where Andrews come from nor +how much learning he had. Most of the people then got their learning +from white children. But I don't know where he got his. +</p> +<p> +"Wesley was his first church as far as I know. Before the War all the +churches were in with the white people. After freedom, they drew out. +Whether Wesley was his first church or not, he was Wesley's first +pastor. I got a history of the church." +</p> +<p> +"They had a real Sunday-school in those days. My sister when she was a +child about twelve years old said three hundred Bible verses at one time +and received a book as a prize. The book was named 'A Wonderful +Deliverance' and other Stories, printed by the American Tract Society, +New York, 150 Nassau Street. My sister's name was Mollie Jackson." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhiteLucy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Lucy White, Marianna, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born on Jim Banks' place close to Felton. His wife named Miss +Puss. Mama and all of young master's niggers was brought from +Mississippi. I reckon it was 'fore I was born. Old master name Mack +Banks. I never heard mama say but they was good to my daddy. They had a +great big place in Mississippi and a good big place over here. +</p> +<p> +"I recollect seeing the soldiers prance 'long the road. I thought they +looked mighty pretty. Their caps and brass buttons and canteens shining +in the sun. They rode the prettiest horses. One of 'em come in our house +one day. He told Miss Puss he was goiner steal me. She say, 'Don't take +her off.' He give me a bundle er bread and I run in the other room and +crawled under the bed 'way back in the corner. It was dark up under +there. I didn't eat the bread then but I et it after he left. It sure +was good. I didn't recollect much but seeing them pass the road. I like +to watch 'em. My parents was field folks. I worked in the field. I was +raised to work. I keep my clothes clean. I washed 'em. I cooked and +washed and ironed and done field work all. When I first recollect +Marianna, Mr. Lon Tau and Mr. Free Landing (?) had stores here. Dr. +Steven (Stephen?) and Dr. Nunnaly run a drug store here. There was a big +road here. Folks started building houses here and there. They called the +town Mary Ann fo' de longest time. +</p> +<p> +"Well, the white folks told 'am, 'You free.' My folks worked on fer +about twenty years. They'd give 'em a little sompin outer dat crap. They +worked all sorter ways—that's right—they sure did. They rented and +share cropped together I reckon after the War ended. +</p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. I heard 'bout 'em other places. +</p> +<p> +"I never voted and I never do 'sepect to now. What I know 'bout votin'? +</p> +<p> +"Well, I tell you, these young folks is cautions. They don't think so +but they is. Lazy, no'count, spends every cent they gits in their hands. +Some works, some work hard. They drink and carouse about all night +sometimes. No ma'am, I did not do no sich er way. I woulder been ashamed +of myself. I would. Times what done run away wid us all now. I don't +know what to look fer now but I know times changing all the time. +</p> +<p> +"I gets ten dollars and some little things to eat along. I say it do +help out. I got rheumatism and big stiff j'ints (enlarged wrist and +knuckles)." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitemanDavid"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: David Whiteman (c)<br> +Age: 88<br> +Home: 104 N. Kansas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas.</h3> +<br> +<p> +"How de do lady. Oh yes, I was a pretty good sized boy when the war +started. My old marster was sponsible Smith. My young marster was his +son-in-law. I member 'bout the Yankees and the "Revels". I member when a +great big troop of 'em went to war. Some of 'em was cryin' and some was +laughin'. I tried to get young marster to let me go with him, but he +wouldn't let me. Old marster was too old to go and his son dodged around +and didn't go either. I member he caught hisself a wild mustang and tied +hisself on it and rode off and they never did see him again. +</p> +<p> +"I know when they was fightin' we use to hear the balls when they was +goin' over. I used to pick up many a ball. +</p> +<p> +"I wish my recollection was with me like it used to be." (At this point +his wife spoke up and said "Seems like since he had the flu, his mind is +kinda frazzled.") +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I member the Ku Klux. They used to have the colored folks +dodgin' around tryin' to keep out of their way." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitesideDolly"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Dolly Whiteside (c)<br> +Age: 81<br> +Home: 103 Oregon Street, Pine Bluff, Ark.</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I reckon I did live in slavery times—look at my hair. +</p> +<p> +"I been down sick—I been right low and they didn't speck me to live. +</p> +<p> +"Well, I'll tell you. I was old enough to know when they runned us to +Texas so the Yankees couldn't overtaken us. We was in Texas when freedom +come, I remember I was sittin on the fence when the soldiers in them +blue uniforms with gold buttons come. He said, "I come to tell you you +is free". I didn't know what it was all about but everybody was sayin' +"Thank God". I thought it was the judgment day and I was lookin' for +God. I said to myself, I'm goin' have some buttons like that some day. +</p> +<p> +"Colonel Williams was my marster. My mother was a nurse and took care of +the colored folks when they was sick. I remember when people wasn't +given nothin' but blue mass, calomel, castor oil and gruel, and every +body was healthier than they is now. +</p> +<p> +"I'm the only one livin' that my mother birthed in this world. I was +born here, but I been travelin', I been to Memphis and around. +</p> +<p> +"No mam, I don't remember nothin' else. I done tole you all I know." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitfieldJW"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: J.W. Whitfield<br> + 3100 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 60<br> +Occupation: Preacher</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My father's name was Luke Whitfield. He was sixty-three years old when +he died in 1902. He was twenty-six years old when the Civil War ended. +He was a slave. There were three other boys in the family besides him. +No girls. +</p> +<p> +"His old mars' name was Bill Carraway. They lived at Nubian [HW: New +Bern], North Carolina. +</p> +<p> +"My father said that his work in slavery time was blacksmithing. He had +to fix the wagons and the plow too. He said that was his work during the +Civil War too. He worked in the Confederate army too. +</p> +<p> +"I remember him saying how they whipped him when he ran off. The +overseer got after him to whip him and he and one of his friends ran +off. As they jumped over the fence to go into the woods the old mars hit +my daddy with a cat-o-nine tails. You see, they took a strap of harness +leather and cut it into four thongs and then they took another and cut +it into five thongs, and they tied them together. When you got one blow +you got nine and when you got five blows you got forty-five. As his old +mars hit him, he said. 'I got him one, sir; it was a good one too, sir, +and a go-boy.'[HW: ?] But it was nine. +</p> +<p> +"My father told me how they married in slavery times. They didn't count +marriage like they do now. If one landowner had a girl and another +wanted that girl for one of his men, they would give him her to wife. +When a boy-child was born out of this marriage they would reserve him +for breeding purposes if he was healthy and robust. But if he was puny +and sickly they were not bothered about him. Many a time if the boy was +desirable, he was put on the stump and auctioned off by the time he was +thirteen years old. They called that putting him on the block. Different +ones would come and bid for him and the highest bidder would get him. +</p> +<p> +"My father spoke of a pass. That was when they wanted to see the girls +they would have to get a pass from the old mars. My father would speak +to his mars and get a pass. If he didn't have a pass, the other mars +would give him a whipping and sent him back. I told you about how they +whipped them. They used to use those cat-o-nine tails on them when they +didn't have a pass. +</p> +<p> +"They lived in a log cabin dobbed with dirt and their clothes were woven +on a loom. They got the cotton, spun it on the spinning-wheel, wove it +on the loom on rainy days. The women spun the thread and wove the cloth. +For the boys from five to fifteen years old, they would make long shirts +out of this cloth. The shirts had deep scallops in them. Then they would +take the same cloth and dye it with indigo and make pants out of it. The +boys never wore those pants in the field. No young fellow wore pants +until he began to court. +</p> +<p> +"My mother was a girl that was sold in Lenoir County, near Kenston, [HW: +Kinston?] North Carolina. My father met her in a place called Buford, +[HW: Beaufort? Carteret Co.] North Carolina. My father was sold several +times. The owner sold her to his owner and they jumped over a broomstick +and were married. My daddy's mars bought my mother for him. Her name was +Penny." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WhitmoreSarah"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Sarah Whitmore, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> +Age: 100</h3> +<br> +<p> +<b>Note:</b> The interviewer found this ex-slave in small quarters. The bed, +the room and the Negro were filthy. A fire burned in an ironing bucket, +mostly papers and trash for fuel. During the visit of the interviewer a +white girl brought a tray with a measuring cup of coffee and two slices +of bread with butter and fruit spread between. When asked where she got +her dinner she said "The best way I can" meaning somebody might bring it +to her. Her hands are too stiff and shaky to cook. Her eye sight is so +bad she cannot clean her room. Two WPA county visitors, girls, bathe her +at intervals. +</p> +<p> +"I was born between Jackson and Brandon. Sure I was born down in +Mississippi. My mother's name they tole me was Rosie. She died when I +was a baby. My father named Richard Chamber. They called him Dick. He +was killed direckly after the war by a white man. He was a Rebel scout. +The man named Hodge. I seed him. He shot my father. Them questions been +called over to me so much I most forgot 'em. Well some jes' lack 'em. My +father's master was Hal Chambers and his wife Virginia. Recken I do +'member the Ku Klux. They scared me to death. I go under the bed every +time when I see them about. Then was when my father was killed. He went +off with a crowd of white men. They said they was Rebel scouts. All I +know I never seed him no more since that evening. They killed him across +the line, not far from Mississippi. Chambers had two or three farms. I +was on the village farm. I had one brother. Chambers sent him to the +salt works and I never seed him no more. I was a orphant. +</p> +<p> +"Chambers make you work. I worked in the field. I come wid a crowd to +Helena. I come on a boat. I been a midwife to black and white. I used to +cook some. I am master hand at ironin'. I have no children as I knows +of. I never born none. I help raise some. I come on a fine big steamboat +wid a crowd of people. I married in Arkansas. My husband died ten or +twelve years ago. I forgot which years it was. I been livin' in this +bery house seben years. +</p> +<p> +"The Government give me $10 a month. I would wash dishes but I can't see +'bout gettin' 'round no more. +</p> +<p> +"Don't ax me 'bout the young niggers. They too fast fo me. If I see 'em +they talkin' a passel of foolish talk. Whut I knows is times is hard wid +me shows you born. +</p> +<p> +"You come back to see me. If you don't I wanter meet you all in heaben. +By, by, by." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilbornDock"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Watt McKinney<br> +Person interviewed: Dock Wilborn<br> + A mile or so from Marvell, Arkansas<br> +Age: 95</h3> +<br> +<p> +Dock Wilborn was born a slave near Huntsville, Alabama on January 7, +1843, the property of Dan Wilborn who with his three brothers, Elias, +Sam, and Ike, moved to Arkansas and settled near Marvell in Phillips +County about 1855. +</p> +<p> +According to "Uncle Dock" the four Wilborn brothers each owning more +than one hundred slaves acquired a large body of wild, undeveloped land, +divided this acreage between them and immediately began to erect +numerous log structures for housing themselves, their Negroes, and their +stock, and to deaden the timber and clear the land preparatory to +placing their crops the following season. The Wilborns arrived in +Arkansas in the early fall of the year and for several months they +camped, living in tents until such time that they were able to complete +the erection of their residences. Good, substantial, well constructed +and warm cabins were built in which to house the slaves, much better +buildings "Uncle Dock" says than those in which the average Negro +sharecropper lives today on Southern cotton plantations. And these +Negroes were given an abundance of the same wholesome food as that +prepared for the master's family in the huge kettles and ovens of the +one common kitchen presided over by a well-trained and competent cook +and supervised by the wife of the master. +</p> +<p> +During the period of slavery the more apt and intelligent among those of +the younger Negroes were singled out and given special training for +those places in which their talents indicated they would be most useful +in the life of the plantation. Girls were trained in housework, cooking, +and in the care of children while boys were taught blacksmithing, +carpentrying, and some were trained for personal servants around the +home. Some were even taught to read and to write when it was thought +that their later positions would require this learning. +</p> +<p> +According to "Uncle Dock" Wilborn, slaves were allowed to enjoy many +pleasures and liberties thought by many in this day, especially by the +descendants of these slaves, not to have been accorded them, were +entirely free of any responsibility aside from the performance of their +alloted labors and speaking from his own experience received kind and +just treatment at the hands of their masters. +</p> +<p> +The will of the master was the law of the plantation and prompt +punishment was administered for any violation of established rules and +though a master was kind, he was of necessity invariably firm in the +administration of his government and in the execution of his laws. +Respect and obedience was steadfastly required and sternly demanded, +while indolence and disrespect was neither tolerated or permitted. +</p> +<p> +In refutation to often repeated expressions and beliefs that slaves were +cruelly treated, provided with insufficient food and apparel and +subjected to inhuman punishment, it is pointed out by ex-slaves +themselves that they were at that time very valuable property, worth on +the market no less than from one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars +each for a healthy, grown Negro and that it is unreasonable to suppose +that these slaveowners did not properly safeguard their investments with +the befitting care and attention such valuable property demanded or that +these masters would by rule or action bring about any condition +adversely effecting the health, efficiency or value of their slaves. +</p> +<p> +The spiritual and religious needs of the slaves received the attention +of the same minister who attended the like needs of the master and his +family, and services were often conducted on Sunday afternoons +exclusively for them at which times the minister exhorted his +congregation to live lives of righteousness and to be at all times +obedient, respectful and dutiful servants in the cause of both their +earthly and heavenly masters. +</p> +<p> +In the days of slavery, on occasion of the marriage of a couple in which +the participants were members of slave-owning families, it was the +custom for the father of each to provide the young couple with several +Negroes, the number of course depending on the relative wealth or +affluence of their respective families. It seems, however, that no less +than six or eight grown slaves were given in most instances as well as a +like number of children from two to four years of age. This provision on +the part of the parents of the newly-wedded pair was for the purpose as +"Uncle Dock" expressed it to give them a "start" of Negroes. The +children were not considered of much value at such an age and the young +master and his wife found themselves possessed with the responsibility +attached to their proper care and rearing until such time as they +reached the age at which they could perform some useful labor. These +responsibilities were bravely accepted and such children received the +best of care and attention, being it is said often kept in a room +provided for than in the master's own house where their needs could be +administered to under the watchful eye and supervision of their owners. +The food given these young children according to informants consisted +mainly of a sort of gruel composed of whole milk and bread made of whole +wheat flour which was set before them in a kind of trough and from which +they ate with great relish and grew rapidly. +</p> +<p> +Slaveowners, as a rule, arranged for their Negroes to have all needed +pleasure and enjoyment, and in the late summer after cultivation of the +crops was complete it was the custom for a number of them to give a +large barbecue for their combined groups of slaves, at which huge +quantities of beef and pork were served and the care-free hours given +over to dancing and general merry-making. "Uncle Dock" recalls that his +master, Dan Wilborn, who was a good-natured man of large stature, +derived much pleasure in playing his "fiddle" and that often in the +early summer evenings he would walk down to the slave quarters with his +violin remarking that he would supply the music and that he wished to +see his "niggers" dance, and dance they would for hours and as much to +the master's own delight and amusement as to theirs. +</p> +<p> +Dock Wilborn's "pappy" Sam was in some respects disobedient, prompted +mainly so it seems by his complete dislike for any form of labor and +which Dan Wilborn due to their mutual affection appeared to tolerate for +long periods or until such time that his patience was exhausted when he +would then apply his lash to Sam a few times and often after these +periodical punishments Sam would escape to the dense forests that +surrounded the plantation where he would remain for days or until +Wilborn would enlist the aid of Nat Turner and his hounds and chase the +Negro to bay and return him to his home. +</p> +<p> +"Uncle Dock" Wilborn and his wife "Aunt Becky" are +among the oldest citizens of Phillips County and have been married for +sixty-seven years. Dan Wilborn performed their marriage ceremony. The only +formality required in uniting them as man and wife was that each jump over +a broom that had been placed on the floor between them. This old couple are the +parents of four children, the eldest of whom is now sixty-three. They +live alone in a small white-washed cabin only a mile or so from Marvell +being supported only by a small pension they receive each month from the +Social Security Board. They have a garden and a few chickens and a hog +or two and are happy and content as they dip their snuff and recall +those days long past during which they both contend that life was at its +best, "Aunt Becky" is religious and a staunch believer, a long-time +member of Mount Moriah Baptist Church while "Uncle Dock" +who has never been affiliated with any religious organization is yet as he terms +himself "a sinner man" and laughingly remarks that he is going to ride +into Heaven on "Aunt Becky's" ticket to which comment she promptly +replies that her ticket is good for only one passage and that if he +hopes to get there he must arrange for one of his own. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilksBell"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Bell Wilks, Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was raised in Pulaski, Tennessee, Giles County. The post office was +at one end of the town, bout half mile was the church down at the other +end. Yes'm, that way Pulaski looked when I lived there. My father's +master was Peter or Jerry Garn—I don't know which. They brothers? +Yes'm. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's master was John Wilks and Miss Betty. Mama's name was +Callie Wilks and papa's name was Freeman. Mama had seven children. She +was a field hand. She said all on their place could do nearly anything. +They took turns cooking. Seems like it was a week about they took +milkin', doin' house work, field work, and she said sometimes they +sewed. +</p> +<p> +"Father told my mother one day he was going to the Yankees. She didn't +want him to go much. He went. They mustered out drilling one day. He had +to squat right smart. He saw some cattle in the distance looked like +army way off. He fell dead. They said it was heart disease. They brought +him home and some of dem stood close to him drillin' told her that was +way it happened. +</p> +<p> +"The man what owned my mother was sorter of a Yankee hisself. We all +stayed till he wound up the crop. He sold his place and went to Collyoka +on the L. and N. Railway. He give us two and one-half bushels corn, +three bushels wheat, and some meat at the very first of freedom. When it +played out we went and he give us more long as he stayed there. +</p> +<p> +"When mama left she went to a new sorter mill town and cooked there till +1869. She carried me to a young woman to nurse for her what she nursed +at Mostor Wilks befo freedom. I stayed wid her till 1876. I sure does +remember dem dates. (laughed) +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I was nursin' for Dr. Rothrock when that Ku Klux scare was all +bout. They coma to our house huntin' a boy. They didn't find him. I +cover up my head when they come bout our house. Some folks they scared +nearly to death. I bein' in a strange place don't know much bout what +all I heard they done. +</p> +<p> +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for, let people vote know how. +</p> +<p> +"I get bout $8 and some commodities. It sure do help me out too. I tell +you it sure do." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsBell"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Bell Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85</h3> +<br> +<p> +"We was owned by Master Rucker. It seems I was about ten years old when +the Civil War started. It seems like a dream to me now. Mother was a +weaver. They said she was a fine weaver. She wove for all on the place +and some special pieces of cloth for outsiders. She wove woolen cloth +too. I don't know whether they paid for the extra weaving or not. People +didn't look on money like they do now. They was free with one another +about eating and visiting and work too when a man got behind with the +work. The fields get gone in the grass. Sometimes they would be sick or +it rained too much. The neighbor would send all his slaves to work till +they caught up and never charge a cent. I don't hear about people doing +that way now. +</p> +<p> +"My parents was named Clinton and Billy Bell. There was nine of us +children. +</p> +<p> +"I never seen nobody sold. Mother was darker. Papa was light—half +white. They didn't talk in front of children about things and I never +did know. I've wondered. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom my folks stayed on at Master Rucker's. I got to be a +midwife. I nursed and was a house girl after the war. Then the doctors +got to sending for me to nurse and I got to be a midwife. +</p> +<p> +"My father was a good Bible scholar. He preached all around +Murfreesboro, Tennessee. He was a Methodist. He died when he was +seventy-seven years old. He had read the Bible through seventy-seven +times--one time for every year old he was." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsCharley"></a> +<h3>Mrs. Mildred Thompson<br> +Mrs. Carol Graham<br> +El Dorado District<br> +Federal Writers Project<br> +Union County, Arkansas</h3> +<br> +<p> +<big><b>Charley Williams</b></big>, Ex-slave. Mawnin' Missy. Yo say wha Aint Fanny +Whoolah live? She live right down de road dar in dat fust house. Yas'm. Dat wha +she live. Yo say whut mah name? Mah name is Charley. Yas'm, Charley +Williams. Did ah live in slavery time? Yas'm sho' did. Mah marster wuz +Dr. Reed Williams and he live at Kew London (SE part of Union County) or +ah speck ah bettuh say near New London caise he live on de Mere-Saline +Road, de way de soldiers went and come. Marster died befo' de Civil Wah. +Does ah membah hit? Yas'm ah say ah does. Ah wuz bo'n in 1856. Mah ole +mutha died befo' de wah too. Huh name wuz Charity. Mah young marster +went tuh de wah an come back. He fit at Vicksburg an his name wuz Bennie +Williams. But he daid now tho. Dere was a hep uv dem white William +Chillun. Dere wuz Miss Narcissi an she am a livin now at Stong. Den +dere's Mr. Charley. Ah wuz named fuh him. He am a livin now too. Den +dere is Mr. Race Williams. He am a livin at Strong too. Dere wuz Miss +Annie, Miss Martha Jane and Miss Madie. Dey is all daid. When young +marster would come by home or any uv de udder soldiers us little niggers +would steal de many balls (bullets or shot) fum dey saddul bags and play +wid em. Ah nevah did see so many soldiers in mah life. Hit looked tuh me +like dey wuz enough uv em to reach clear cross de United States. An ah +nevah saw de like uv cows as they had. Dey wuz nuff uv em to rech clar +to Camden. +</p> +<p> +Is ah evah been mahried and does ah have any chillun? Yes'm. Yas'm. Ah's +been mahried three times. Me an mah fust wife had seven chillun. When we +had six chillun me and mah wife moved tuh Kansas. We had only been der +23 days when mah wife birthed a chile and her an de chile both died. Dat +left me wid Carey Dee, Lizzie, Arthur, Richmond, Ollie and Lillie to +bring back home. Ah mahried agin an me an dat wife had one chile name +Robert. Me an mah third wife has three: Joe Verna, Lula Mae an Johnnie +B. +</p> +<p> +Is dey hents? Ah've hearn tell uv em but nevah have seed no hants. One +uv mah friens whut lived on the Hommonds place at Hillsboro could see +em. His name wuz Elliott. One time me an Elliott wuz drivin along an +Elliott said: "Charley, somebody got hole uv mah horse!" Sho nuff dat +horse led right off inter de woods an comminced to buckin so Elliott and +his hoss both saw de haint but ah couldn' see hit. Yo know some people +jes caint see em. +</p> +<p> +Yas'm right up dere is wha Aint Fannie live. Yas'm. Goodday Missy." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>FOLK CUSTOMS</b></p> +<p> +We found Fannie Wheeler at home but not an ex-slave. She was making a +bedspread of tobacco sacks. +</p> +<p> +"Yas'm chillun ah'm piecing mahsef a bedspraid from dese heah backy +sacks. Yas'm dey sho does make er nice spraid. See dat'n on mah baid. +Aint hit purty. Hit wuz made fum backy sacks. Don yo all think dat +yaller bodah (border) set hit off purty? Ah'm aimin to bodah dis'n wid +pink er blue. +</p> +<p> +What am dat up dar in dat picture frame? Why dat am plaits of har +(hair). Hits uv mah kin and frien's. When we would move way off dey +would cut off a plait and give hit tuh us tuh membah dem by. Mos' uv dem +is daid now but ah still membahs dem and ah kin name evah plait now." +</p> +<p> +We were told that Sallie Sims was an old negress and went to see her she +was not an ex-slave either but she told us an interesting little story +about +</p> +<br> +<p><b>HAINTS and BODY MARKS</b></p> +<p> +"No'm, ah'm purty ole but ah wuz bo'n aftuh surrender. Is ah evah seen a +hant? Now ah nevah did but once and mah ma said dat wuz a hant. Ah wuz +out in de woods waukin (walking) an ah saw sumpin dat looked lak a +squirrel start up a tree and de fudder up hit got the bigger hit got an +hit wuz big as a bear when hit got to de top and ma said dat hit was a +haint. Dat is de only time ah evah seed one. +</p> +<p> +Now mah granchillun can all see hants and mah little great gran' chile +too. An evah one uv dem wuz bo'n wid a veil ovah dey face. Now when a +chile is bo'n wid a veil ovah his face—if de veil is lifted up de sho +can see hants and see evah thing but if'n de veil is pulled down stid up +bein lifted up de won't see em. After de veil is pulled down an taken +off, wrap hit up in a tissue paper and put hit in de trunk and let hit +stay dar till hit disappear and de chile won't nevah see hants. Mah +grandaughter what lives up north in Missouri come down heah to visit mah +son's fambly an me ah an brang huh li'l boy wid huh. Dat chile is bout +seben years ole an dat chile could see hants all in de house an he +wouldn' go tuh baid till his gran'pappy come home an went tuh baid wid +him. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsCharlie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Charlie Williams<br> + Brassfield; Ark.<br> +Age: 73</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born four miles from Holly Springs, Mississippi. My parents was +named Patsy and Tom Williams. They had twenty children. Nat Williams and +Miss Carrie Williams owned them both. They had four children. +</p> +<p> +"At freedom he was nice as could be—wanted em to stay on with him and +they did. He didn't whip em. They liked that in him. His wife was dead +and he come out to Arkansas with us. He died at Lonoke—Mr. Tom Williams +at Lonoke. +</p> +<p> +"I farmed nearly all my life. I worked on a steamboat on White River +five or six years—<i>The Ralph</i>. +</p> +<p> +"I never saw a Ku Klux. Mr. Williams kept us well protected. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's mother couldn't talk plain. My mother talked tolerably +plain. She was a 'Molly Glaspy' woman. My father had a loud heavy voice; +you could hear him a long ways off. +</p> +<p> +"I have no home. I am a widower. I have no land. I get a small check and +commodities. +</p> +<p> +"I vote. I haven't voted in a long time. I'm not educated to know how +that would serve us best." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsColumbus"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Columbus Williams<br> + Temporary: 2422 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> + Permanent: Box 12, Route 2, Ouachita County, Stevens, Arkansas<br> +Age: 98</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Union County, Arkansas, in 1841, in Mount Holly. +</p> +<p> +"My mother was named Clora Tookes. My father's name is Jordan Tookes. +Bishop Tookes is supposed to be a distant relative of ours. I don't know +my mother and father's folks. My mother and father were both born in +Georgia. They had eight children. All of them are dead now but me. I am +the only one left. +</p> +<p> +"Old Ben Heard was my master. He come from Mississippi, and brought my +mother and father with him. They were in Mississippi as well as in +Georgia, but they were born in Georgia. Ben Heard was a right mean man. +They was all mean 'long about then. Heard whipped his slaves a lot. +Sometimes he would say they wouldn't obey. Sometimes he would say they +sassed him. Sometimes he would say they wouldn't work. He would tie them +and stake them out and whip them with a leather whip of some kind. He +would put five hundred licks on them before he would quit. He would buy +the whip he whipped them with out of the store. After he whipped them, +they would put their rags on and go on about their business. There +wouldn't be no such thing as medical attention. What did he care. He +would whip the women the same as he would the men. +</p> +<p> +"Strip 'em to their waist and let their rags hang down from their hips +and tie them down and lash them till the blood ran all down over their +clothes. Yes sir, he'd whip the women the same as he would the men. +</p> +<p> +"Some of the slaves ran away, but they would catch them and bring them +back, you know. Put the dogs after them. The dogs would just run them up +and bay them just like a coon or 'possum. Sometimes the white people +would make the dogs bite them. You see, when the dogs would run up on +them, they would sometimes fight them, till the white people got there +and then the white folks would make the dogs bite them and make them +quit fighting the dogs. +</p> +<p> +"One man run off and stayed twelve months once. He come back then, and +they didn't do nothin' to him. 'Fraid he'd run off again, I guess. +</p> +<p> +"We didn't have no church nor nothing. No Sunday-schools, no nothin'. +Worked from Monday morning till Saturday night. On Sunday we didn't do +nothin' but set right down there on that big plantation. Couldn't go +nowhere. Wouldn't let us go nowhere without a pass. They had the +paterollers out all the time. If they caught you out without a pass, +they would give you twenty-five licks. If you outrun them and got home, +on your master's plantation, you saved yourself the whipping. +</p> +<p> +"The black people never had no amusement. They would have an old +fiddle—something like that. That was all the music I ever seen. +Sometimes they would ring up and play 'round in the yard. I don't +remember the games. Sing some kind of old reel song. I don't hardly +remember the words of any of them songs. +</p> +<p> +"Wouldn't allow none of them to have no books nor read nor nothin'. +Nothin' like that. They had corn huskin's in Mississippi and Georgia, +but not in Arkansas. Didn't have no quiltin's. Women might quilt some at +night. Didn't have nothin' to make no quilts out of. +</p> +<p> +"The very first work I did was to nurse babies. After that when I got a +little bigger they carried me to the field—choppin' cotton. Then I went +to picking cotton. Next thing—pullin' fodder. Then they took me from +that and put me to plowin', clearin' land, splittin' rails. I believe +that is about all I did. You worked from the time you could see till the +time you couldn't see. You worked from before sunrise till after dark. +When that horn blows, you better git out of that house, 'cause the +overseer is comin' down the line, and he ain't comin' with nothin' in +his hand. +</p> +<p> +"They weighed the rations out to the slaves. They would give you so many +pounds of meat to each working person in the family. The children didn't +count; they didn't git none. That would have to last till next Sunday. +They would give them three pounds of meat to each workin' person, I +think. They would give 'em a little meal too. That is all they'd give +'em. The slaves had to cook for theirselves after they come home from +the field. They didn't get no flour nor no sugar nor no coffee, nothin' +like that. +</p> +<p> +"They would give the babies a little milk and corn bread or a little +molasses and bread when they didn't have the milk. Some old person who +didn't have to go to the field would give them somethin' to eat so that +they would be out of the way when the folks come out of the field. +</p> +<p> +"The slaves lived in old log houses—one room, one door, <i>one window</i>, +one everything. There were <i>plenty windows</i> though. There were windows +all [HW: ?] around the house. They had cracks that let in more air than +the windows would. They had plank floors. Didn't have no furniture. The +bed would have two legs and would have a hole bored in the side of the +house where the side rail would run through and the two legs would be +out from the wall. Didn't have no springs and they made out with +anything they could git for a mattress. Master wouldn't furnish them +nothin' of that kind. +</p> +<p> +"The jayhawkers were white folks. They didn't bother we all much. That +was after the surrender. They go 'round here and there and git after +white folks what they thought had some money and jerk them 'round. They +were jus' common men and soldiers. +</p> +<p> +"I was not in the army in the War. I was right down here in Union County +then. I don't know just when they freed me but it was after the War was +over. The old white man call us up to the house and told us now we was +free as he was; that if we wanted to stay with him it was all right, if +we didn't and wanted to go away anywheres, we could have the privilege +to do it. +</p> +<p> +"Marriage wasn't like now. You would court a woman and jus' go on and +marry. No license, no nothing. Sometimes you would take up with a woman +and go on with her. Didn't have no ceremony at all. I have heard of them +stepping over a broom but I never saw it. Far as I saw there was no +ceremony at all. +</p> +<p> +"When the slaves were freed they expected to get forty acres and a mule. +I never did hear of anybody gettin' it. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the War, I worked on a farm with Ben Heard. I stayed with +him about three years, then I moved off with some other white folks. I +worked on shares. First I worked for half and he furnished a team. Then +I worked on third and fourth and furnished my own team. I gave the owner +a third of the corn and a fourth of the cotton and kept the rest. I kept +that up several years. They cheated us out of our part. If they +furnished anything, they would sure git it back. Had everything so high +you know. I have farmed all my life. Farmed till I got so old I +couldn't. I never did own my own farm. I just continued to rent. +</p> +<p> +"I never had any trouble about voting. I voted whenever I wanted to. I +reckon it was about three years after the War when I began to vote. +</p> +<p> +"I never went to school. One of the white boys slipped and learned me a +little about readin' in slave time. Right after freedom come, I was a +grown man; so I had to work. I married about four or five years after +the War. I was just married once. My wife is not living now. She's gone. +She's been dead for about twelve years. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to the A.M.E. Church and my membership is in the New Home +Church out in the country in Ouachita County." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsFrank"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Frank Williams<br> + County Hospital, ward eleven, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 100, or more</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'm a hundred years old. I know I'm a hundred. I know from where they +told me. I don't know when I was born. +</p> +<p> +"I been took down and whipped many a time because I didn't do my work +good. They took my pants down and whipped me just the same as if I'd +been a dog. Sometimes they would whip the people from Saturday night +till Monday morning. +</p> +<p> +"I run off with the Yankees. I was young then. I was in the Civil War. I +don't know how long I stayed in the army. I ain't never been back home +since. I wish I was. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back home. +</p> +<p> +"Mississippi was my home. I come up here with the Yankees and I ain't +never been back since. Laconia, Mississippi was the place I used to be +down there. I been wanting to go home, but I couldn't git off. I want to +git you to write there for me. I belong to the Baptist church. Write to +the elders of the church. I belong to the Mission Baptist Church on the +other side of Rock Creek here. +</p> +<p> +"They just lived in log houses in slave time. +</p> +<p> +"I want to go back home. They made me leave Laconia. +</p> +<p> +"Pateroles!! Oh, my God!!! I know 'nough 'bout them. Child, I've heard +'em holler, 'Run, nigger, run! The pateroles will catch you.' +</p> +<p> +"The jayhawkers would catch people and whip them. +</p> +<p> +"I would be back home yet if they hadn't made me come away. +</p> +<p> +"They didn't have no church in slavery time. They jus' had to hide +around and worship God any way they could. +</p> +<p> +"I used to live in Laconia. I ain't been back there since the war. I +want to go back to my folks." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Frank Williams is like a man suffering from amnesia. He is the first old +man that I have interviewed whose memory is so far gone. He remembers +practically nothing. He can't tell you where he was born. He can't tell +you where he lived before he came to Little Rock. Only when his +associates mention some of the things he formerly told them can he +remember that little of his past that he does state in any remote +approach to detail. +</p> +<p> +There is a strong emotional set which relates to his slave time +experiences. The emotion surges up in his mind at any mention of slave +time matters. But only the emotion remains. The details are gone +forever. Names, times, places, happenings are gone forever. He does not +even recall the name of his father, the name of his mother, or the name +of any of his relatives or masters, or old-time friends. No single +definite thing rises above the horizon of his mind and defines itself +clearly to him. +</p> +<p> +And always after every sentence he utters, there rises the old refrain: +"I want to go back home. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back +home. I live in Laconia. They made me come away." And that is the +substance of the story he remembers. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsGus"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy<br> +Person interviewed: Gus Williams, Russellville, Arkansas<br> +Age: 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Was you lookin' for me t'oder day? Sure, my name's Williams—Gus +Williams—not Wilson. Dey gits me mixed up wid dat young guy, Wilson. +</p> +<p> +"Yes, I remembers you—sure—talks to yo' brother sometimes. +</p> +<p> +"I was born in Chatham County, Georgia—Savannah is de county seat. My +marster's name was Jim Williams. Never seen my daddy cause de Yankees +carried him away durin' de War, took him away to de North. Old marster +was good to his slaves, I was told, but don't ricollect anything about +em. Of course I was too young. Was born on Christmas day, 1857—but I +don't see anything specially interestin' in bein' a Christmas present; +never got me nothin', and never will. +</p> +<p> +"Was workin' on WPA—this big Tech. buildin'—but got laid off t'other +day. +</p> +<p> +"My mamma brought us to Arkansas in 1885, but we stopped and lived for +several years in Tennessee. Worked for twelve years out of Memphis on +the old Anchor Line steamboats on de Mississippi, runnin' from St. Louis +to N'Orleans. Plenty work in dem days. +</p> +<p> +"No, I ain't voted in a long time; can't afford to vote because I never +have the dollar. No dollar—no vote. Depression done fixed my votin'. +</p> +<p> +"Jest me and my wife, but it takes pluggin' away to get along. We +belongs to the C.M.E. Church since 1915. I was janitor at the West Ward +School for seven years, and sure liked dat job. +</p> +<p> +"Don't ask me anything about dese boys and gals livin' today. Much +difference in dem and de young folks livin' in my time as between me and +you. No dependence to be put in em. My <i>estimony</i> is dat de black +servants today workin' for de whites learns things from dem white girls +dat dey never knowed before, and den goes home and does things dey never +done before. +</p> +<p> +"Don't ricollect many of de old-time songs, but one was somep'n +like—"Am I Born to Die?" And—oh, yes,—lots of times we sung 'Amazin' +Grace, how sweet de soun' dat saves a <i>race</i> like me.' +</p> +<p> +"No suh, I ain't got no education—never had a chance to git one." +</p> +<br> +<p> +<b>NOTE:</b> The underscored words are actual quotations. "Estimony" for +"opinion" was a characteristic in Gus' vocabulary; "race" for the +original "wretch" in the song may have been a general error in some +local congregations. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsHenrietta"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson<br> +Person interviewed: Henrietta Williams<br> + B. Avenue, El Dorado, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I am about 82 years old. I was born in Georgia down in the cotton +patch. I did not know much about slavery, for I was raised in the white +folks' house, and my old mistress called me her little nigger, and she +didn't allow me to be whipped and drove around. I remember my old master +whipped me one time and old mistress fussed with him so much he never +did whip me any more. +</p> +<p> +"I never had to get out and do any real hard work until I was nearly +grown. My mother did not have but one child. My father was sold from my +mother when I was about two years old and he was carried to Texas and I +did not see him any more until I was 35 years old. So my mother married +again when she was set free. I didn't stay with my mother very much. She +stayed off in a little log house with a dirt floor, and she cooked on +the fireplace with a skillet and lid, and the house had one window with +a shutter. She had to cut logs and roll them like a man and split rails +and plow. I would sometimes ask old mistress to let me go out where my +mother was working to see her plow and when I got to be a big girl about +nine years she began learning me how to plow. +</p> +<p> +"I often told the niggers the white folks raised me. The niggers tell +me, 'Yes, the white folks raise you but the niggers is going to kill +you.' +</p> +<p> +"After freedom my mistress and master moved to Louisiana. They farmed. +They owned a big plantation. I did the housework. +</p> +<p> +"The biggest snow I remember was the big centennial snow. Oh, that's +been years ago. The snow was so deep you couldn't get out of the house. +The boys had to take the shovel and the hoe and keep the snow raked away +from around the door. +</p> +<p> +"There was a big old oak tree that stood in the corner of the yard. +People say that tree was a hundred years old. We could not get no wood, +so master had the boys to cut the big old oak tree for wood. +</p> +<p> +"Rabbits had a scant time. The boys would go out and track six or eight +rabbits at a time. We had rabbits of all descriptions. We had rabbits +for breakfast, rabbits for dinner, rabbits for supper time. We had fried +rabbits, baked rabbits, stewed rabbits, boiled rabbits. Had rabbits, +rabbits, rabbits the whole six or eight weeks the snow stayed on the +ground. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when I was about twelve years old a woman had two small +children. She went away from home and for fear that the children would +get hurt on the outside she put them in the house and locked the door. +In some way they got a match and struck it and the house caught fire. +All the neighbors were a long ways off and by the time they reched the +house it had fallen in. Finally the mother came and looked for her +children and asked the neighbors did they save them. They said no, they +did not know they were in the house. In fact they were too late anyway. +So the fire was still hot and they had to wait for the ashes to cool and +when the ashes got cool they went looking for the children and found the +burned buttons that were on their little clothes, so they began raking +around in the ashes and at last found each of their little hearts that +had not burned, but the little hearts were still jumping and the man who +found the hearts picked them up in his hand and stood speechless. He +became so nervous he could not move. Their little hearts just quivered. +They let their hearts lay out for a couple of days and when they buried +their hearts they was still jumpin'. That was a sad time. From that day +to this day I never lock no one up in the house." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsHenryAndrew"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Henry Andrew (Tip) Williams<br> + Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born in 1854, 86</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born three and one-half miles from Jackson, North Carolina. I was +born a slave. I was put to work at six years old. They started me to +cleaning off new ground. I thinned corn on my knees with my hands. We +planted six or seven acres of cotton and got four or five cents a pound. +Balance we planted was something to live on. My master was Jason and +Betsy Williams. He had a small plantation; the smaller the plantation +the better they was to their slaves. +</p> +<p> +"Jim Johnson's farm joined. He had nine hundred ninety-nine niggers. It +was funny but every time a nigger was born one died. When he bought one +another one would die. He was noted as having nine hundred ninety-nine +niggers. It happened that way. He was rough on his place. He had a jail +on his place. It was wood but close built. Couldn't get out of there. +Put them in there and lock them up with a big padlock. He kept a male +hog in the jail to tramp and walk over them. They said they kept them +tied down in that place. Five hundred lashes and shot 'em up in jail was +light punishment. They said it was light brushing. I lived up in the +Piney Woods. It was big rich bottom plantations from Weldon Bridge to +Halifax down on the river. They was rough on 'em, killed some. No, I +never seen Jim Johnson to know him. He lived at Edenton, North Carolina. +I recollect mighty well the day he died we had a big storm, blowed down +big trees. That jail was standing when I come to Arkansas forty-seven +years ago. It was a 'Bill brew' (stocks) they put men in when they put +them in jail. Turned male hog in there for a blind. +</p> +<p> +"Part of Jim Johnson's overseers was black and part white. Hatterway was +white and Nat was black. They was the head overseers and both bad men. I +could hear them crying way to our place early in the morning and at +night. +</p> +<p> +"Lansing Kahart owned grandma when I was a little boy. +</p> +<p> +"They took hands in droves one hundred fifty miles to Richmond to sell +them. Richmond and New Orleans was the two big selling blocks. My uncle +was sold at Richmond and when I come to Arkansas he was living at +Helena. I never did get to see him but I seen his two boys. They live +down there now. I don't know how my uncle got to Helena but he was +turned loose down in this country at 'mancipation. They told me that. +</p> +<p> +"When a man wanted a woman he went and axed the master for her and took +her on. That is about all there was to it. No use to want one of the +women on Jim Johnson's, Debrose, Tillery farms. They kept them on their +own and didn't want visitors. They was big farms. Kershy had a big farm. +</p> +<p> +"The Yankees never went to my master's house a time. The black folks +knowd the Yankees was after freedom. They had a song no niggers ever +made up, 'I wanter be free.' +</p> +<p> +"My master was too old to go to war but Bill went. I think it was better +times in slavery than now but I'm not in favor of bringing it back on +account of the cruelty and dividing up families. My master was good to +us. He was proud of us. We fared fine. He had a five or six horse farm. +His land wasn't strong but we worked and had plenty. Mother cooked for +white and colored. We had what they et 'cepting when company come. When +they left we got scraps. Then when Christmas come we had cakes and pies +stacked up setting about for us to cut. They cut down through a whole +stack of pies. Cut them in halves and pass them among us. We got hunks +of cake a piece. We had plain eating er plenty all the time. You see I'm +a big man. I wasn't starved out till I was about grown, after the War +was over. Times really was hard. Hard, hard times come on us all. +</p> +<p> +"Mama got one whooping in her life. I seen that. Jason Williams whipped +only two grown folks in my life, mama and my brother. Mama sassed her +mistress or that what they called it then. Since then I've heard worse +jawing not called sassing, call it arguing now. Sassing was a bad trait +in them days. Brother was whooped in the field. He was seven years older +than me. I didn't see none of that. They talked a right smart about it. +</p> +<p> +"The Williams was good to us all. Master's wife heired two women and a +girl. Mama cooked, ironed, and worked in the field in time of a push +(when necessary). +</p> +<p> +"I was hauling for the Rebel soldiers one rainy evening. It was dark and +lightning every now and then. General Ransom was at the hotel porch when +Sherman turned the bend one mile to come in the town. It was about four +o'clock in the evening I judge. General Ransom's company was washing at +Boom's Mill three miles. About one thousand men was out there cooking +and in washing, resting. General Ransom went hollering, 'Yankees!' Went +to his men. They got away I reckon. Sherman killed sixty men in that +town I know. General Ransom went on his horse hollering, 'Yankees +coming!' He went to his home eight miles from there. They went on +through rough as could be. +</p> +<p> +"I hauled when it was so dark the team had to take me in home at night. +My circuit was ten miles a day. +</p> +<p> +"My young master Bill Williams come in April soon as he got home and +told us we was free but didn't have to leave. We stayed on and worked. +He said he had nothing but the land and we had nothing. At the end of +the year he paid off in corn and a little money. Us boys left then and +mother followed us about. We ain't done no better since then. We didn't +go far off. +</p> +<p> +"Forty-seven years ago I went to Weldon, North Carolina in a wagon, took +the train to Gettysburg and from there come to Biscoe, Arkansas. I been +about here ever since. Mr. Biscoe paid our way. We worked three years to +pay him back. I cleared good money since I cone out here. I had cattle I +owned and three head of horses all my own. Age crept up on me. I can't +work to do much good now. I gets six dollars—Welfare money. +</p> +<p> +"Times is a puzzle to me. I don't know what to think. Things is got all +wrong some way but I don't know whether it will get straightened out or +not. Folks is making the times. It's the folks cause of all this good or +bad. People not as good as they was forty years ago. They getting +greedy." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsJames"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: James Williams, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 72</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I come from close to Montgomery, Alabama. Man named John G. Elliott +sent and got a number famlees to work his land. He was the richest man +in them parts round Fryers Point, Mississippi. I was born after the +Civil War. They used to say we what was raisin' up havin' so much easier +time an what they had in slavery times. That all old folks could talk +about. Said the onlies time the slaves had to comb their hair was on +Sunday. They would comb and roll each others hair and the men cut each +others hair. That all the time they got. They would roll the childerns +hair or keep it cut short one. Saturday mornin' was the time the men had +to curry and trim up the horses and mules. Clean out the lot and stalls. +The women would sweep and scour the floors for Sunday. +</p> +<p> +"I haven't voted for a long time. It used to be some fun votin'. Din in +Mississippi the whites vote one way and us the other. My father was a +Republican. I was too. +</p> +<p> +"I have cataracts growing on my eyes. That hinders my work now. I got a +little garden. It help out. I ain't got no propety no kind. +</p> +<p> +"The young folks seem happy. I guess they gettin' long fine. Some folks +jes' lucky bout gettin' ahead and stayin' ahead. I can't tell no moren +nothin' how times goiner serve this next generation they changein' all +time seems lack. If the white folks don't know what goiner become of the +next generation, they need not be asking a fellow lack me. I wish I did +know. +</p> +<p> +"I ain't been on the PWA. I don't git no help ceptin' when I can work a +little for myself." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsJohn"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: John Williams<br> + County Hospital, ward 11, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 75</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in 1863 in Texas right in the city of Dallas right in the +heart of the town. After the War our owners brought us back to Little +Rock. That is where they left from. They left here on account of the +War. They run off their slaves to keep the Yankees from freeing them. +All the old masters were dead. But the young ones were Louis Fletcher, +John Fletcher, Dick Fletcher, Jeff Fletcher, and Len Fletcher. Five +brothers of them. Their home was here in Little Rock. The War was going +on. It went on four years and prior to the end of it I was born. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's name was Mary Williams. My father's name was John Williams. +I was named after him. +</p> +<p> +"It is funny how they changed their names. Now, his name was John Scott +before he went into the army. But after he went in, they changed his +name into John Williams. +</p> +<p> +"His master's name was Scott but I don't know the other part of it. All +five of the brothers was named for their mother's masters. She raised +them. She always called all of them master. 'Cordin' to what I hear from +the old folks, when one of them come 'round, you better call him master. +</p> +<p> +"In slave time, my father was a field hand, I know that. But I know more +about my mother. I heard her say she was always a cook. +</p> +<p> +"I heard her speak about having cruel treatment from her first masters; +I don't know who they were. But after the Fletchers bought them, they +had a good time. They come all the way out of Louisiana up here. My +mother was sold from her mother and sister-sold some two or three times. +She never did get no trace of her sister, but she found her grandmother +in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and brought her here. Her sister's name was +Fannie and her grandmother's name was Crecie Lander. That is an Indian +name. I couldn't understand nothing she would say hardly. She was +bright. All my folks were bright but me. My mother had hair way down her +shoulders and you couldn't tell my uncle from a dago. My grandmother was +a regular Indian color. She spoke Indian too. You couldn't understand +nothing she said. +</p> +<p> +"When I woke up, they had these homemade beds. I couldn't hardly +describe them, but they put the sides into the posts with legs. They +were stout things too what I am talkin' 'bout. They made cribs for us +little children and put them under the bed. They would pull the cribs +out at night and run them under the bed during the day. They called them +cribs trundles. They called them trundles because they run them under +the bed. For chairs and tables accordin' to what I heard my mother say, +she was cook and they had everything in the big house and et pretty much +what the white folks et. But we just had boxes in the cabins. +</p> +<p> +"Them that was in the white folks' house had pretty good meals, but them +that was in the field they would feed just about like they would the +hogs. They had little wooden trays and they would put little fat meat +and pot-liquor and corn bread in the tray, and hominy and such as that. +Biscuits came just on Sunday. +</p> +<p> +"They had old ladies to cook for the slave children and old ladies to +cook for the hands. What was in the big house stayed in the big house. +All the slave men ate in one place and all the slave women ate in one +place. They weren't supposed to have any food in their homes unless they +would go out foraging. Sometimes they would get it that way. They'd go +out and steal ol' master's sweet potatoes and roast them in the fire. +They'd go out and steal a hog and kill it. All of it was theirn; they +raised it. They wasn't to say stealin' it; they just went out and got +it. If old master caught them, he'd give 'em a little brushin' if he +thought they wouldn't run off. Lots of times they would run off, and if +he thought they'd run off because they got a whippin', he was kinda slow +to catch 'em. If one run off, he'd tell the res', 'If you see so and so, +tell 'im to come on back. I ain't goin' to whip 'im.' If he couldn't do +nothin' with 'em, he'd sell 'em. I guess he would say to hisself, 'I +can't do nothin' with this nigger. If I can't do nothing with 'im, I'll +sell him and git my money outa him.' +</p> +<p> +"I have heard my mother say that some of the slaves that ran away would +get destroyed by the wild animals and some of them would even be glad to +come back home. Right smart of them got clean away and went to free +states. +</p> +<p> +"After the War was over, they all was brought back here and the owners +let them know they was free. They had to let them know they were free. I +never heard my mother tell the details. I never heard her say just who +brought her word or how it was told to her when they was freed. +</p> +<p> +"I never heard her say much about the church because she was a sinner. +After they was freed, I would go many a night and set down in a corner +where they was having a big dance. +</p> +<p> +"The pateroles and jayhawkers were bad. Many of them got hurt too. They +tried to hurt the niggers and sometimes the niggers hurt them. +</p> +<p> +"Right after the War, my folks farmed for a living. They farmed on +shares. They didn't have nothing of their own. They never did get +nothing out of their work. I know they didn't get a thing. They farmed +at first about seven miles out from Little Rock, below Fourche Dam on +the Fletcher place. There ain't but one of the Fletchers living now, and +that is Molly Daniels. She is old Louis Fletcher's daughter. All their +brothers is dead. She's owning all the land now we used to till. It's +over a thousand acres. She [HW: mother] stayed down there for about +twenty or thirty years. Then she moved here to town. Here she cooked for +white folks. My mother died about forty years ago—forty-two or three +years; she's been dead sometime. My wife has been dead now for twelve +years. +</p> +<p> +"I didn't get but a little schooling, for my father used to send me +after the mules. One day the wheelbarrow had a load of bricks on it. It +was upset. They had histed the bricks up on a high platform. It turned +over as I was passing underneath, and one fell on me and struck my head. +It was a long time after that before they would let me go to school +again. After that I never got used to studying any more. +</p> +<p> +"My first teacher was Lottie Andrews (Charlotte Stephens). I had some +more teachers too. Lemme see—Professor Fish was a white man. We had +colored teachers under him. Then we had R.B. White. He was Reuben +White's brother. R.B. White's wife was a teacher. Professor Fish was the +superintendent. There ain't no truth to the tale that Reuben White was +put in a coffin before he was dead. Reuben White built the First Baptist +Church here and Milton White built a big church in Helena. They were +brothers. Them was two sharp darkies. +</p> +<p> +"When I first started working, I drove teams. I raised crops a while and +farmed. Then I left the country and come to town and got up to be a +quarry man for years. Then I quit that and went to driving teams for the +Merchant Transfer Company for years. Then I quit that and run on the +road—the Mountain—for four years. Then I taken a coal chute on the +Rock Island and run it for four years. Then I quit and went to working +as an all-'round man in the shop. I stayed with them about nine years. +Then I taken down in the shape that I am now. +</p> +<p> +"I have been out here to this hospital for twenty-four years going on +twenty-five. Been down so that I couldn't hit a lick of work for +twenty-five years. I have been in this building for eleven years. I get +along tolerable fair. As the old man says, we can just live. +</p> +<p> +"I think the young people are going wild and if something isn't done to +head them off pretty soon, they'll go too far. They ain't looking at +what's going on up the road; they just call theirselves having a good +time. They ain't looking to have nothing. They ain't looking to be +nothing. They ain't looking to get nothing for the future. Don't know +what they would do if they had to work part of the time for nothing like +we did. I see men working now for ten dollars a month. I could take a +fishing line and go fishing and beat that when I was young. Times is +getting back almost as hard as they used to be. +</p> +<p> +"I am a Christian. I belong to Shiloh Baptist Church in North Little +Rock. I helped build that church. Brother Hawkins was the pastor." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsLillie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Lillie Williams, Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 69</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born some place down in Mississippi. My papa's papa come from +Georgia. He had a tar kiln; he cut splinters put them on it. It would +smoke blackest smoke and drip for a week. He used it to grease the hubs +of the wagons. We drunk pine tar tea for coughs. He split rails, made +boards and shingles all winter. He had a draw-knife, a mall and wedges +to use in his work. He learned that where he come from in Georgia. He +sold boards, pailings when I can recollects. Grandma made tallow candles +for everybody on our place in the fall when they killed the first +yearling. They cooked up beeswax when they robbed bees. When I was a +child I picked up pine knots for torches to quilt and knit by. We raised +everything we lived on. I pulled sage grass to cure for brooms. Grandpa +planted some broom corn and we swept the yards and lots with brooms made +out of brush. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma kept a barrel to make locust and persimmon beer in. We dried +apples and peaches all summer and put chinaberry seed 'mongst them to +keep out worms. +</p> +<p> +"If we rode to church, it was in a steer wagon (ox wagon). Our oxen +named Buck, Brandy Barley. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma raised me, two more girls, and a boy. Mama worked out. Our pa +died. Mama worked 'mongst the white folks. Grandma was old-timey. She +made our dresses to pick cotton in every summer. They was hot and +stubby. They looked pretty. We was proud of them. Mama washed and +ironed. She kept us clean, too. Grandma made us card and spin. I never +could learn to spin but I was a good knitter. I could reel. I did love +to hear it crack. That was a cut. We had a winding blade. We would fill +the quills for our grandma to weave. Grandma was mighty quiet and +particular. She come from Kenturkey. We all ploughed. I've ploughed and +ploughed. +</p> +<p> +"I had three little children to raise and now I have nine grandchildren. +I got five here now to look after when their mother is out at work. I +have worked. We farmed in 1923 up till 1931 and got this house paid out. +(Fairly good square-boxed, unpainted house—ed.) +</p> +<p> +"My mother-in-law was sold in Aberdeen, Mississippi on a tall stump. She +clem up a ladder. Her ma was at the sale and said she was awful uneasy. +But she was sold to folks close by. She could go to see her. +</p> +<p> +"Freedom come on. The colored folks slip about from place to place and +whisper, 'We goiner be set free.' I think my mama left at freedom and +come to twenty or twenty-two miles from Oxford, Mississippi. I don't +know where I was born. But in Mississippi somewheres. +</p> +<p> +"There is something wrong about the way we are doing somehow. It is from +hand to mouth. We buys too many paper sacks. They say work is hard to +get. One thing now didn't used to be, you have to show the money before +you can buy a thing. Seem like we all gone money crazy. Automobiles and +silk stockings done ruined us all. White folks ought to straighten this +out." +</p> + +<p> +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Williams, Clarendon, Arkansas<br> +Age: Born 1872<br> +Light color</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My father was a slavery man two and one-half miles from Somerville, +Tennessee. Colonel Rivers owned him. Argile Rivers was papa's name. +</p> +<p> +"He went to war. His job was hauling food to the soldiers. He lay out in +the woods getting to his soldiers with provisions. He'd run hide under +the feed wagon from the shot. Him and old master would be together +sometimes. His master died, or was hurt and died after the War a long +while. +</p> +<p> +"He said his master was good to him all time. They had to work hard. He +raised one boy and me." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary2"></a> +[HW: Ex-slave] +<h3>Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave—Herbs "Hant" experiences<br> +Story:—Information<br> +<br> +This information given by: Mary Williams<br> +Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas<br> +Occupation: Field Worker<br> +Age: 69</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +Mary Williams mother's name was Mariah and before she married her master +forced her to go wrong and she had a son by him. They all called him Jim +Rob. He was a mulatta. Then Mariah married Williams on General Garretts +farm. The Rob Roy farm and the Garrett farm joined. Mary was born at Rob +Roy, Arkansas near Humphrey. Mary said the master married her mother and +father after her mother was stood up on a stump and auctioned off. Her +mother was a house girl. Soon there were rumors of freedom but their +family lived on where they were. Her father said when he was a boy he +attended the draw bars and met the old master to get a ride up behind +him. +</p> +<p> +Once when her father was real small he was eating biscuit with a hole in +it made by a grown person sticking finger down in it, then fill the hole +with molasses. That was a rarity they had just cooked molasses. He was +sitting in front of the fire place. Big White Bobby stuck his nose and +mouth to take a bite of his bread. He picked the cat up and threw it in +the fire. The cat ran out, smutty, just flying. The old mistress came in +there and got after him about throwing the cat in the fire. +</p> +<p> +One time when my father was going to see my mother. Before they got +married, across the field. He had a bag of potatoes. He felt something, +felt like some one had caught his bag and was pulling him back. He was +much off a man and thought he could whip nearly every body around but he +was too scared to run and couldn't hardly get away. +</p> +<p> +Mary's mother, Mariah two children had been gone off. They were coming +in on the boat some time in the night. The master sent two of the big +boys down to build a fire and wait at the landing till they came. They +went in the wagon. There was an old empty house up on the hill. So they +went up there and built a fire and put their quilts down for pallets by +the fire place. They heard hants outside, they peeped out the log +cracks. They saw something white out there all the doors were buttoned +and propped. When the boat came it blew and blew. The master wondered +what in the world was the matter down there. The captian said he hated +to put them out and nobody to meet them. It was after midnight. So some +of the boat crew built them a fire and next morning when they got up on +the hill they noticed somebody asleep as they peeped through the cracks +and called them. Saw their wagon and knew it too. They said they was +afraid of them hants around the house, too afraid to go down to the boat +landing if they did hear the boat. Hants can't be seen in daytime only +by people "what born with veils over their faces." +</p> +<p> +Her father was going to mill to have corn ground. It was before day +light. He was driving an ox wagon. +</p> +<p> +In front of him he saw a sweet maple limb moving up and down over the +road in front of him. He went on and the ox butted and kicked at it and +it followed them nearly to the mill. It sounded like somebody crying. It +turned and went back still crying. Her father said there were hants up +in the tree and cut the limb off and followed him carrying it between +themselves so he couldn't see what they looked like. +</p> +<pre> +It is a sign of death for a hoot owl to come hollow in your yard. +</pre> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary3"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Williams<br> + 409 North Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 82</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Yes mam, I sure would be glad to talk to you 'bout slavery times. I can +sure tell about it—I certainly can, lady. +</p> +<p> +"I am so proud 'bout my white folks 'cause they learned me how to work +and tell the truth. I had a good master and mistress. Yes'm, I sure did. +</p> +<p> +"I was borned in middle Georgia and I just love the name of Georgia. I +was the second born of 'leven children and they is all dead 'cept +me—I'm the only one left to tell the tale. +</p> +<p> +"When the ginnin' started I was always glad 'cause I could ride the +crank they had the mules hitched to. And then after the cotton was +ginned they took it to the press and you could hear that screw go +z-m-m-m and dreckly that 'block and tickle' come down. Yes mam, I sure +did have good times. +</p> +<p> +"You ain't never seen a spinnin' wheel has you? Well, I used to card and +spin. I never did weave but I hope dye the hanks. They weaved it into +cloth and called it muslin. +</p> +<p> +"I can 'member all I want to 'bout the war. I 'member when the Yankees +come through Georgia. I walked out in the yard with 'em and my white +people just as scared of 'em as they could be. I heered the horses feet, +then the drums, and then 'bout twenty-five or thirty bugles. I was so +amazed when the Yankees come. I heered their songs but I couldn't +'member 'em. +</p> +<p> +"One thing I 'member jest as well as if 'twas this mornin'. That was the +day young master Henry Lee went off to war. Elisha Pearman hired him to +go and told him that when the war ceasted he would give him two or three +darkies and let him marry his daughter. Young master Henry (he was just +eighteen) he say he goin' to take old Lincoln the first thing and swing +him to a limb and let him play around awhile and then shoot his head +off. But I 'member the morning old mistress got a letter that told how +young master Henry was in a pit with the soldiers and they begged him +not to stick his head up but he did anyway and they shot it off. Old +mistress jest cry so. +</p> +<p> +"One thing I know, the Yankees took a lot of things. I 'member they took +Mrs. Fuller to the well and said they goin' hang her by the thumbs—but +they just done it for mischievous you know. They didn't take nothin' +from my white people 'cept some chickens and a hog, and cut down the +hams. They put the old rooster in the sack and he went to squawkin' so +they took him out and wrung his neck. +</p> +<p> +"My white people used to carry me with 'em anywhere they go. That's how +come I learn so much. I sure did learn a heap when I was small. I +'member the first time my old mistress and my young mistress carried me +to church. When the preacher got through preachin' (he was a big fine +lookin' man with white gray hair) he come down from the pulpit and say +'Come to me, you sinners, poor and needy.' And he told what Jesus said +to Nicodemus how he must be born again. I wanted to go to the mourners' +bench so bad, but old mistress wouldn't let me. When I got home I told +my mother to borned me again. You see I was jest little and didn't know +no better. +</p> +<p> +"I never seen no Ku Klux but I could have. They never bothered us but +they whipped the shirttails off some of 'em. Some darkies is the meanest +things God ever put breath in. +</p> +<p> +"Most generally the white folks was good to their darkies. My young +master used to sneak out his Blue Back Speller and learned my father how +to read, and after the war he taught school. He started me off and then +a teacher from the North come down and taught us. +</p> +<p> +"I've done pitty near every kind a work there is to do. There is some +few white people here can identify me. I most always work for +'ristocratic people. It seems that was just my luck. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think nothin' of this here younger generation. They ain't +nothin' to 'em. They say to me 'Why don't you have your hair +straightened' but I say 'I've got along this far without painted jaws +and straight hair.' And I ain't goin' wear my dresses up to my knees or +trail 'em in the mud, either. +</p> +<p> +"I been married four times and every one of 'em is dead and buried. My +las' husband was in the Spanish-American War and now I gets a pension. +Yes'm it sure does help. +</p> +<p> +"I only had two children is all I is had. They is both dead and when God +took my last one, I thought he wasn't jest but I see now God knows +what's best cause if I had my grandchildren now I'd sure beat 'em. I'd +love 'em, but I sure wouldn't let 'em run around. +</p> +<p> +"The biggest part of these niggers puts their mistakes on the white +folks. It's easier to do right than wrong cause right whips wrong every +time into a frazzle. +</p> +<p> +"I don't read much now since my eyes ain't so good but tell me whatever +become of Teddy Roosevelt? +</p> +<p> +"I'm sorry I can't offer you no dinner but I'm just cookin' myself some +peas. +</p> +<p> +"Well, lady, I sure am glad you come. I jest knew the Lord was goin' +send somebody for me to talk to. I loves to talk so well. Good bye and +come back again sometime." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMary3B"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Mary Williams<br> + 409 Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 84</h3> +<p>[TR: Apparently a second interview with same person despite age discrepancy.]</p> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'am, I know all about slavery. I'll be eighty-four the +twenty-fifth of this month. I was born in 1855. +</p> +<p> +"My mother had eleven children and they all said I could remember the +best of all. I'm the second oldest. And they all dead but me. +</p> +<p> +"I used to spin and on Friday I'd set aside my wheel and on Saturday +morning we'd sweep yards. And Saturday evening was our holiday. +</p> +<p> +"I belonged to the Lees and my white folks was good to me. I was the +aptest one among 'em, so they'd give me a basket and a ginger cake and +I'd go to the Presly's after squabs. They'd be just nine days old 'cause +they said if they was any older they'd be tough. +</p> +<p> +"Now, when the Yankees come through ever'body was up in the house 'cept +me. I was out in the yard with the Yankees. No, I wasn't scared of +'em—I had better sense. +</p> +<p> +"This is all the 'joyment I have now is to think back in slavery times. +</p> +<p> +"In slavery times white folks used to carry me to church. They'd carry +me to church in preference to anybody else. When they'd sing I'd be so +happy I'd hop and skip. I'm one of the stewardess sisters of St. John's +Methodist Church. We takes care of the sacrament table. +</p> +<p> +"I believe in visions. I'm a great revisionist. I don't have to be +asleep either. Now if I see a vision of a black snake, it's a sign I got +a black enemy. And if it's a light colored snake, it's a sign I got a +white enemy. And if it's a kinda of a yellow snake, I got a enemy is a +yellow nigger. +</p> +<p> +"Now, here's a true sign of death. If you dream of seen' nakedness, +somebody sure goin' to die in your family or maybe your neighbors'. +</p> +<p> +"In slavery times they mostly wove their own dresses. Wove goods called +muslin. +</p> +<p> +"And they wore bonnets in slavery times made out of bull rush grass. +Called 'em bull rush bonnets. I knowed how to weave but they had me +spinnin' all the time. +</p> +<p> +"I've always worked for the 'ristocrat white people—lawyers, doctors, +and bankers. Mr. Frank Head was cashier of that old Merchant and +Planters Bank. He was a northern man. Oh, from away up North. +</p> +<p> +"When I cooked, the greatest trouble I had was gettin' away. Nobody +wanted me to leave. And I tell you those northern ladies wanted to call +me Mrs. Williams. I'd say, 'Don't do that. You know these southern +people don't like that—don't believe in that.' But you know she would +call me Miss Mary. But I said, 'Don't do that.' +</p> +<p> +"I'm just an old darky and can't 'spress myself but I try to do what's +right and I think that's the reason the Lord has let me live so long." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Husband was a soldier in the Spanish-American War and she receives a +pension. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsRosenaHunt"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Rosena Hunt Williams<br> + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 56</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My mother was Amanda McVey. She was born two years, six months after +freedom in Corinth, Mississippi. My father was born in slavery. Grandma +lived with us at her death. Her name was Emily McVey. She was sold in +her girlhood days. Uncle George was sold to a man in the settlement +named Lee. His name was Joe Lee (Lea?). Another of my uncles was sold to +a man named Washington. His name was George Washington. They were sold +at different times. Being sold was their biggest dread. Some of them +wanted to be sold trusting to be treated better. +</p> +<p> +"Mother and grandma didn't have a hard time like my father said he come +up under. He said he was brought up hard. He was raised (reared) at +Jackson, Tennessee. He was never sold. Master Alf Hunt owned him and his +young master, Willie Hunt, inherited him. He said they never put him in +the field till he was twelve years old. He started ploughing a third +part of a day. A girl about grown and another boy a little older took +turns to do a 'buck's' (a grown man) work. They was lotted of a certain +tract and if it stay clear a certain time to get it all done. He said +they got whooped and half fed. When the War was on, his white folks had +to half feed their own selves. He talked like if the War had lasted much +longer it would been a famine in the land. He hit this world in time to +have a hard time of it. After freedom was worse time in his life. +</p> +<p> +"In August when the crops was laid by Master Hunt called them to the +house at one o'clock by so many taps of the farm bell. It hung in a +great big tree. He read a paper from his side porch telling them they +free. They been free several months then and didn't a one of them know +it." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsIIIWilliamBall"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: "Soldier" Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas<br> +Age: 98</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My name is William Ball Williams III. I was born in Greensburg. My +owners was Robert and Mary Ball. They had four children I knowd. Old man +Ball bought ma and two children for one thousand five hundred dollars. I +never was sold. I want to live to be a hundred years old. I'm +ninety-eight years old now. +</p> +<p> +"Ma was Margarett Ball. Pa was William Anderson. Ma was a cook and pa a +field hand. They whooped a plenty on the place where I come up. Some of +'em run off. Some they tied to a tree. Bob Ball didn't use no dogs. When +they got starved out they'd come outen the woods. Of course they would. +Bob Ball raised fine tobacco, fine Negroes, fine horses. He made us go +to church. Four or five of us would walk to the white folks' Baptist +church. The master and his family rode. It was a good piece. We had +dances in the cabins every once in a while. We dance more in winter time +so we could turn a pot down in the door to drown out the noise. We had +plenty plain grub to eat. +</p> +<p> +"I run away to Louisville to j'ine the Yankees one day. I was scared to +death all the time. They put us in front to shield themselves. They said +they was fighting for us—for our freedom. Piles of them was killed. I +got a flesh wound. I'm scarred up some. We got plenty to eat. I was in +two or three hot battles. I wanted to quit but they would catch them and +shoot them if they left. I didn't know how to get out and get away. I +mustered out at Jacksonville, Florida and walked every step of the way +back. When I got back it was fall of the year. My folks still at my +master's. I was on picket guard at Jacksonville, Florida. We fought a +little at Pensacola, Florida. +</p> +<p> +"At the end of the War provisions got mighty scarce. If we didn't have +enough to eat we took it. They hadn't raised nothing to eat the last two +years. Before I got back to Kentucky the Ku Klux was about and it was +hard to get enough to eat to keep traveling on. I was scared nearly to +death all the time. I'm not in favor of war. I didn't stay on with the +master but my folks lived on. They didn't want to hire Negro soldiers. I +traveled about hunting a good place and got to Osceola, Arkansas. I been +here in Forrest City twenty ard years. The best people in the world live +in Arkansas. +</p> +<p> +"I'm going to try to go to the Yankee Reunion. They sent me a big letter +(invitation). They going to send me a ticket and pay all my expenses. It +is at Gettysburg. It is from June 29th to July 6th. My grandson is going +to take care of me. +</p> +<p> +"I get one hundred dollars a month pension. It keeps us mighty well. I +want to live to be a hundred years old." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsonAnna"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Anna Williamson, Holly Grove, Arkansas<br> +Age: Between 75 and 80</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Grandma come from North Carolina. Her master was Rodes Herndon, then +Cager Booker. He owned my mama. My name is Anna Booker. I married Wes +Williamson. +</p> +<p> +"My papa's master was Calvin Winfree. He come from Virginia. Me and Bert +Winfree (white) raised together close to Somerville, Tennessee. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma and grandpa was named Maria and Allen. Her master was Rodes +Herndon. I was fourth to the oldest of mama's children. She give me to +grandma. That who raised me. Mama took to the field after freedom. Mama +had seven or eight children. +</p> +<p> +"Mama muster been a pretty big sorter woman when she young. A ridin' +boss went to whoopin' her once and she tore every rag clothes he had on +offen him. I heard em say he went home strip start naked. I think they +said he got turned off or quit, one. +</p> +<p> +"When mama was in slavery she had three girl babies and long wid them +she nursed some of the white babies. She cooked some but wasn't the +regular white folks' cook. Another black woman was the regular cook. I +heard her say she was a field hand mostly durin' slavery. +</p> +<p> +"Folks was free two or three years fore they knowed it. Nobody told em. +</p> +<p> +"I used to have to go up the road to get milk for the old mistress. She +boxed my ears. That when I was a child reckly after the war. +</p> +<p> +"They had a latch and a hart bar cross the door. I never was out but +once after dark. I never seen no Ku Klux. My folks didn't know they was +free. +</p> +<p> +"Dr. Washington lived in Somerville, Tennessee and brought us to +Arkansas to farm. He owned acres and acres of land here. I was grown and +had a house full of children. I got five living now. +</p> +<p> +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for. I would vote for the worst +kinder officers maybe and I wouldn't wanter make times harder on us all +'an they is. +</p> +<p> +"I been cookin' and farmin' all my life. Now I get $10 a month from the +Sociable Welfare. +</p> +<p> +"I used to pick up chips at Mrs. Willforms—pick up a big cotton basket +piled up fore I quit. I seen the Yankees, they camped at the fair +grounds. I thought they wore the prettiest clothes and the brass buttons +so pretty on the blue suits. I hear em beat the drum. I go peep out when +they come by. +</p> +<p> +"My old mistress slapped me till my eye was red cause one day I says +'Ain't them men pretty?' They camped at what is now the Fair Grounds at +Somerville, Tennessee, at sorter right of town. My papa was a ox driver. +That is all he done bout. Seem like there was haulin' to be done all the +time. +</p> +<p> +"The folks used to be heap better than they is now. Some of the masters +was mean to the slaves but they mortally had plenty to eat and wear and +a house to live in. Some of the houses was sorry and the snow come in +the cracks but we had big fire places and plenty wood to cook and keep +warm by. The children all wore flannel clothes then to keep em warm. +They raised sheep. +</p> +<p> +"It is a shame what folks do now. These young darky girls marries a boy +and they get tired each other. They quit. They ain't got no sign of +divorce! Course they ain't never been married! They jes' take up and +live together, then they both go on livin' with some other man an' +woman. It ain't right! Folks ain't good like they used to be. We old +folks ain't got no use for such doin's. They done too smart to be told +by us old folks. I do best I can an' be good as I knows how to be. +</p> +<p> +"The times is fine as I ever seen in my life. I wish I was young and +strong. I wouldn't ask nobody for sistance. Tey ain't nuthin' wrong wid +this year's crop as I sees. Times is fine." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsonCallieHalsey"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Callie Halsey Williamson, Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: 60?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Mother was born in Alabama during slavery. Her name was Levisa Halsey. +Neither of my parents were sold. Mother was tranferred (transferred) to +her young mistress. She had no children and still lived in the home with +her people. Her mother, Emaline, was the cook. Master Bradford owned +grandmother and grandfather both and my own father all. Mother was the +oldest and only child. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know whether they was mean to all the slaves or not. Seems they +were not to my folks. The old man died sometime before freedom. The +young master went to get a overseer. He brought a new man to take his +own place. He whooped grandma and auntie and cut grandma's long hair off +with his pocket-knife. +</p> +<p> +"During that time grandpa slip up on the house top and take some boards +off. Grandma would sit up in her bed and knit by moonlight through the +hole. He had to put the boards back. She had to work in the field in +daytime. +</p> +<p> +"During the War they were scared nearly to death of the soldiers and +would run down in their master's big orchard and hide in the tall broom +sage. They rode her young master on a rail and killed him. A drove of +soldiers come by and stopped. They said, 'Young man, can you ride a +young horse?' They gathered him and took him out and brought him in the +yard. He died. They hurt him and scared him to death. +</p> +<p> +"Another train come and loaded up all the slaves and somehow when +freedom come on, my folks was here at Arkadelphia. They said they lived +in fear of the soldiers all the time. +</p> +<p> +"Mother said a woman come first and stuck a flag out a upstairs window +and the Yankees shot the guns off and some of them made talks on freedom +to the Negroes and white folks. They seen that at Arkadelphia. +</p> +<p> +"Mama, grandma, and grandpa started on their way back home following +soldier camps. They never got back to their homes. They never did like +the Yankees and grieved about the way they done their young master. He +was like one of my father's own children. They seen hard times after +freedom. It was hard to live and they was used to work but they had a +good living. They had to die in Arkansas. How come I'm here now." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WillisCharlotte"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Charlotte Willis, Madison, Arkansas<br> +Age: 63</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Grandpa said he walked every step of the way from old Virginia to +Mississippi. They camped at night, cooked and fed them. They didn't eat +no more till they camped next night. They was walked in a peart pace and +the guards and traders rode. They stop every now and then for to be +cried off and some more be took on. +</p> +<p> +"Grandpa said he didn't wanter be sold but they never ax 'em no +diffurence. Sold 'em and took 'em right along. They better keep their +feelings hid, for them traders was same kind er stock these cattle men +is today judging from the way he say it was then. Grandpa loved Virginia +long as he have breath in him. +</p> +<p> +"We used to sing +</p> +<pre> +'Old Virginia nigger say he love hot mush; + Alabama nigger say, good God, nigger, hush.' +</pre> +<p> +(She sang it very fast and in a fashion Negroes only can do—ed.) He +wore a big straw hat and he'd get up and fan us out the way. +</p> +<p> +"Grandma was brought from South Carolina by the Willises to Mississippi. +I heard her say her and him was made to jump over the broom. Called that +getting 'em married. Grandpa said that was the way white folks had of +showing off the couples. Then it would be 'nounced from the big house +steps they was man and wife. Sometimes more than two be 'nounced at the +gatherin'. +</p> +<p> +"They had good times sometimes. They talked 'bout corn shuckings, corn +shellings, cotton traumpin's, (packing cotton in wagon beds by walking +on it over and over, she said—ed.) and dances. +</p> +<p> +"Mother said she never was sold. She b'long to the Willises in +Mississippi. +</p> +<p> +"I reckon I sure do 'members my grandpa and grandma bof. Seventeen of us +all lived at Grandpa Wash Hollivy's home. He was paying on it and died. +The house have three rooms in it. In the fall of the year grandma took +all the rancid grease and skins and get the drippings from the ash +hopper and make soap 'nough to do 'er till sometime next year. She made +it in the iron washpot. He raised meat to do us till sometime next year. +We never run short on nothing to eat. +</p> +<p> +"We never had but 'bout two dresses at the same time. When I come on, +dresses was scarce. If we tore our dresses, we wore patches. We was +sorter 'shamed to have our dresses patched up. +</p> +<p> +"I heard 'em say grandpa's house was guarded to keep off the Ku Kluck +one night. They come all right 'nough but went to another house. They +started whooping. The guards left grandpa's house and went down there +and shot into them. Some of them was killed and the horses run off. Some +run off quick and got out the way. I never caught on to what they +guarded grandpa for. +</p> +<p> +"I had one girl baby what died. I been married once in my life. We rents +our house. I never 'plied to the Welfare yit. We been farming my +enduring life. Still farming; I says we is. +</p> +<p> +"Old folks give out and can't run on wid the work. Young folks no 'count +and works to sorter git by their own selfs. Way I see it. We got so far +off the track and can't git back. Starve 'fore we git back like we used +to be. We used to git credit. Now there ain't no place to git it. We +down and can't git up. Way I sees it. Young generation is so uneasy, +ain't still a minute. They wanter be going all the time. They don't +marry; they goes lives together. Then they quits and take up wid +somebody else. I don't know what make 'em do thater way. That the way +the right young ones doing now. +</p> +<p> +"My pa looked on me when I was three days old and left us. I ain't never +seen him since." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilsonElla"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Ella Wilson<br> + 1611 McGowan Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: Claims 100</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. I don't remember the month. But when +the Civil War ceased I was here then and sixteen years old. I'm a +hundred years old. Some folks tries to make out like it ain't so. But I +reckon I oughter know. +</p> +<p> +"The white folks moved out from Georgia and went to Louisiana. I was +raised in Louisiana, but I was born in Georgia. I have had several +people countin' up my age and they all say I is a hundred years old. I +had eight children. All of them are free born. Four of them died when +they were babies. I lost one just a few days ago. +</p> +<p> +"I had such a hard time in slavery. Them white folks was slashing me and +whipping me and putting me in the buck, till I don't want to hear +nothin' about it. +</p> +<p> +"An old man named Dr. Polk got a dime from me and said it was for the +Old Age Pension. He lived in Magnolia, Arkansas. They ran him out of +Magnolia for ruining a colored girl and I don't know where he is now. I +know he got ten cents from me. +</p> +<p> +"The first work I ever did was nursing the white children. My old mis' +called me in the house and told me that she wanted me to take care of +her children and from then till freedom came, I stayed in the house +nursing. I had to get up every morning at five when the cook got up and +make the coffee and then I had to go in the dining-room and set the +table. Then I served breakfast. Then I went into the house and cleaned +it up. Then I 'tended to the white children and served the other meals +during the day. I never did work in the fields much. My old mars said I +was too damned slow. +</p> +<p> +"They carried me out to the field one evening. He never did show me nor +tell me how to handle it and when I found myself, he had knocked me +down. When I got up, he didn't tell me what to do, but when I picked up +my things and started droppin' the seeds ag'in, he picked up a pine root +and killed me off with it. When I come to, he took me up to the house +and told his wife he didn't want me into the fields because I was too +damned slow. +</p> +<p> +"My mars used to throw me in a buck and whip me. He would put my hands +together and tie them. Then he would strip me naked. Then he would make +me squat down. Then he would run a stick through behind my knees and in +front of my elbows. My knees was up against my chest. My hands was tied +together just in front of my shins. The stick between my arms and my +knees held me in a squat. That's what they called a buck. You could [TR: +sic: couldn't] stand up an' you couldn't git your feet out. You couldn't +do nothin' but just squat there and take what he put on you. You +couldn't move no way at all. Just try to. You jus' fall over on one side +and have to stay there till you turned over by him. +</p> +<p> +"He would whip me on one side till that was sore and full of blood and +then he would whip me on the other side till that was all tore up. I got +a scar big as the place my old mis' hit me. She took a bull whip +once—the bull whip had a piece of iron in the handle of it—and she got +mad. She was so mad she took the whip and hit me over the head with the +butt end of it, and the blood flew. It ran all down my back and dripped +off my heels. But I wasn't dassent to stop to do nothin' about it. Old +ugly thing! The devil's got her right now!! They never rubbed no salt +nor nothin' in your back. They didn't need to. +</p> +<p> +"When the war come, they made him serve. He would go there and run away +and come back home. One day after he had been took away and had come +back, he was settin' down talkin' to old mis', and I was huddled up in +the corner listenin', and I heered him tell her, 'Tain't no use to do +all them things. The niggers'll soon be free.' And she said, 'I'll be +dead before that happens, I hope.' And she died just one year before the +slaves was freed. They was a mean couple. +</p> +<p> +"Old mars used to strip my sister naked and make her lay down, and he +would lift up a fence rail and lay it down on her neck. Then he'd whip +her till she was bloody. She wouldn't get away because the rail held her +head down. If she squirmed and tried to git loose, the rail would choke +her. Her hands was tied behind her. And there wasn't nothin' to do but +jus' lay there and take it. +</p> +<p> +"I am almost a stranger here in Little Rock. My father was named Lewis +Hogan and I had one sister named Tina and one named Harriet. His white +folks what he lived with was Mrs. Thomas. He was a carriage driver for +her. Pleas Collier bought him from her and took him to Louisiana. All +the people on my mother's side was left in Georgia. My grandmother's +name was Rachel. Her white folks she lived with was named Dardens. They +all lived in Atlanta, Georgia. I remember the train we got on when we +left Georgia. Grandma Rachel had one daughter named Siney. Siney had a +son named Billie and a sister named Louise. And my grandmother was free +when I first got big enough to know myself. I don't know how come she +was free. That was a long time before the war. The part of Georgia we +lived in was where chestnuts grow, but they wasn't no chinkapins. All my +grandmother's people stayed in Atlanta, and they were living at the time +I left there. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's name was Dinah Hogans and my father's name was Lewis +Hogans. I don't know where they were borned. But when I knowed him, they +was in Georgia. My mother's mars bought my father 'cause my mother heard +that Collier was goin' to break up and go to Louisiana. My father told +his mars that if he (Collier) broke up and left, he never would be no +more good to him. Then my mother found out what he said to Collier, so +she told her old mis' if Collier left, she never would do her no more +good. You see, my mother was give to Mrs. Collier when old Darden who +was Mrs. Collier's father died. So Collier bought my father. Collier +kept us all till we all got free. White folks come to me sometimes about +all that. +</p> +<p> +"You jus' oughter hear me answer them. I tells them about it just like I +would colored folks. +</p> +<p> +"'Them your teeth in your mouth?' +</p> +<p> +"'Whose you think they is? Suttinly they're my teeth.' +</p> +<p> +"'Ain't you sorry you free?' +</p> +<p> +"'What I'm goin' to be sorry for? I ain't no fool.' +</p> +<p> +"'How old is you?' +</p> +<p> +"I tells them. Some of 'em want to argue with me and say I ain't that +old. Some of 'em say, 'Well, the Lawd sure has blessed you.' Sure he's +blessed me. Don't I know that? +</p> +<p> +"I've seen 'em run away from slavery. There was a white man that lived +close to us who had just one slave and he couldn't keep him out the +woods to save his soul. The white man was named Jim Sales and the +colored boy was named—shucks, I can't remember his name. But I know Jim +Sales couldn't keep that nigger out the woods nohow. +</p> +<p> +"I was freed endurin' the Civil War. We was in at dinner and my old mars +had been to town. Old man Pleas Collier, our mean mars, called my daddy +out and then he said, 'All you come out here.' I said to myself, 'I +wonder what he's a goin' to do to my daddy,' and I slipped into the +front room and listened. And he said, 'All of you come.' Then I went out +too. And he unrolled the Government paper he had in his hand and read it +and told us it meant that all of us was free. Didn't tell us we was free +as he was. Then he said the Government's going to send you some money to +live on. But the Government never did do it. I never did see nobody that +got it. Did you? They didn't give me nothin' and they didn't give my +father nothin'. They just sot us free and turned us loose naked. +</p> +<p> +"Right after they got through reading the papers and told us we was +free, my daddy took me to the field and put me to work. I'd been workin' +in the house before that. +</p> +<p> +"Then they wasn't payin' nobody nothin'. They just hired people to work +on halves. That was the first year. But we didn't get no half. We didn't +git nothin'. Just time we got our crop laid by, the white man run us off +and we didn't get nothin'. We had a fine crop too. We hadn't done +nothin' to him. He just wanted all the crop for hisself and he run us +off. That's all. +</p> +<p> +"Well, after that my daddy took and hired me out up here in Arkansas. He +hired me out with some old poor white trash. We was livin' then in +Louisiana with a old white man named Mr. Smith. I couldn't tell what +part of Louisiana it was no more than it was down there close to Homer, +about a mile from Homer. My mother died and my father come and got me +and took me home to take care of the chillen. +</p> +<p> +"I have been married twice. I married first time down there within four +miles of Homer. I was married to my first husband a number of years. His +name was Wesley Wilson. We had eight children. My second husband was +named Lee somepin or other. I married him on Thursday night and he left +on Monday morning. I guess he must have been taking the white folks' +things and had to clear out. His name was Lee Hardy. That is what his +name was. I didn't figure he stayed with me long enough for me to take +his name. That nigger didn't look right to me nohow. He just married me +'cause he thought I was a working woman and would give him money. He +asked me for money once but I didn't give 'im none. What I'm goin' to +give 'im money for? That's what I'd like to know. +</p> +<p> +"After my first husband died, I cooked and went on for them white folks. +That was the only thing I could do. I was cooking before he died. I +can't do no work now. I ain't worked for more than twenty years. I ain't +done no work since I left Magnolia. +</p> +<p> +"I belong to the Collins Street Baptist Church—Nichols' church. +</p> +<p> +"I don't git no pension. I don't git nothin'. I been down to see if I +could git it but they ain't give me nothin' yit. I'm goin' down ag'in +when I can git somebody to carry me." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Ella Wilson insists that she is one hundred years old and that she was +born sixteen years before freedom. The two statements conflict. From her +appearance and manner, either might be true. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilsonRobert"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Robert Wilson<br> + 811 West Pullen Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 101</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My name is Robert Wilson. I was born in Halifax County, Virginia. How +old am I? Accordin' to my recollection I was twenty-three years old +befo' the war started. Old master tole me how old I was. I'm a hundred +and one now. Yes'm I <i>knows</i> I am. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm I been sold. They put us up on the auction block jest like we was +a hoss. They put me up and white man ax 'Who want to buy this boy?' One +man say 'ten dollars' and then they run it up to a hundred. And they buy +a girl to match you and raise you up together. When you want to get +married you jump over the broomstick. I used to weigh one hundred and +fifty-six pounds and a half, standin' weight. I could pick four and five +hundred pounds of cotton in a day. +</p> +<p> +"When the Yankees come, old master make us boys take the sack of money +and hide it in the big pond. Yes'm, we drove the buggy right in the +water. +</p> +<p> +"Durin' the time of the war I used to ride 'long side of the Yankees. +They give me a blue coat with brass buttons and a blue cap and +brass-toed boots. I used to saddle and curry the bosses. I member +Company Fifth and Sixth. +</p> +<p> +"They tole us the war was to make things better. We didn't know we was +free till 'bout six months after the war was over. I didn't care whether +I was free or not. +</p> +<p> +"'Bout slavery—well, I thinks like this. I think they fared better +then. They didn't have to worry 'bout spenses. We had plenty chicken and +everything. Nowdays when you pay the rent you ain't got nothin' left to +buy somethin' to eat. +</p> +<p> +"Yes'm, I been to school. I'se a preacher (showing me his certificate of +ordination). I lives close to the Lord. The Lord done left me here for a +purpose. +</p> +<p> +"When we used to pray we put our heads under the wash pot to keep old +master from hearin' us. Old master make us put the chillun to bed fo' +dark. I 'member one song he make us sing— +</p> +<pre> +'Down in Mobile, down in Mobile + How I love dat pretty yellow gal, + She rock to suit me--; + Down in Mobile, down in Mobile.' +</pre> +<p> +"You 'member when Grant took the fort at Vicksburg? I 'member he and +that general on the white hoss—yes'm, General Lee, they eat dinner +together and then after dinner they go to fightin'. +</p> +<p> +"Oh lord! Don't talk about them Ku Klux. +</p> +<p> +"Cose I believes in spirits. Don't you? Well you ain't never been +skeered. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom my folks refugeed from Virginia to Tennessee so I went to +Memphis. We got things from the Bureau. Yes, Lord! I had everything I +wanted. I wouldn't care if that time would come back now. +</p> +<p> +"'Did you ever vote?' Me? Yes'm I voted. Never had no trouble 'tall. I +voted for Garfield. I 'member when Garfield was shot. I was settln' out +in the yard. The moon was in the 'clipse. I'll never forget it. +</p> +<p> +"I think the colored folks should have a legal right to vote, cause if +ever they come another war—now listen—them darkies ain't never goin' +to France again. The nigger ain't got no country—this is white man's +town. +</p> +<p> +"What I been doin' since the war? Well, I'm a good cook. When I puts on +the white apron, I knows what to do. Then I preaches. The Lord done +revealed things to me. +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you 'bout this younger generation. They is goin' to +destruction. They is not envelopin (developing) their education. +</p> +<p> +"Well I done tole you all I know. Guess I tole you 'bout a book, ain't +I?" +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WindhamTom1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Tom Windham, 723 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 98</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was twenty-one years old when the war was settled. My mother and my +grandmother kep' my age up and after the death of them I knowed how to +handle it myself. +</p> +<p> +"My old master's name was Butler and he was pretty fair to his darkies. +He give em plenty to eat and wear. +</p> +<p> +"I was born and raised in Indian Territory and emigrated from there to +Atlanta, Georgia when I was about twelve or thirteen. We lived right in +Atlanta. I cleaned up round the house. Yes ma'm, that's what I followed. +When the Yankees come to Atlanta they just forced us into the army. +After I got into the army and got used to it, it was fun—just like meat +and bread. Yankees treated me good. I was sorry when it broke up. When +the bugle blowed we knowed our business. Sometimes, the age I is now, I +wish I was in it. Father Abraham Lincoln was our President. I knowed the +war was to free the colored folks. I run away from my white folks is how +come I was in the Yankee army. I was in the artillery. That deefened me +a whole lot and I lost these two fingers on my left hand—that's all of +my joints that got broke. +</p> +<p> +"Before the war my white folks was good to us. I had a better time than +I got now. +</p> +<p> +"My father and mother was sold away from me, but old mistress couldn't +rest without em and went and got em back. They stayed right there till +they died. Us folks was treated well. I think we should have our liberty +cause us ain't hogs or horses—us is human flesh. +</p> +<p> +"When I was with the Yankees, I done some livin'. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school two months in my life. I should a gone longer but I +found where I could get next to a dollar so I quit. If I had education +now it might a done me some good. +</p> +<p> +"I used to be in a brass band. I like a brass band, don't make no +difference where I hear it. +</p> +<p> +"There was one song we played when I was in the army. It was: +</p> +<pre> +'Rasslin Jacob, don't weep + Weepin' Mary, don't weep. + Before I'd be a slave + I'd be buried in my grave, + Go home to my father and be saved.' +</pre> +<p> +The Rebels was hot after us then. Another one we used to sing was: +</p> +<pre> +'My old mistress promised me + When she die, she'd set me free.' +</pre> +<p> +"After the war I continued to work around the white folks and yes ma'm, +I seen the Ku Klux many a time. They bothered me sometimes but they soon +let me alone. They was a few Yankees about and they come together and +made the Ku Klux stay in their place. +</p> +<p> +"One time after the war I went to Ohio and stayed three months but it +was too cold for me. Man I worked for was named Harper and as good a man +as ever broke a piece of bread. +</p> +<p> +"I come back South and learned how to farm. I been here in this country +of Arkansas a long time. I hoped clean up this place (Pine Bluff) and +make a town of it. +</p> +<p> +"I got a daughter and two sisters alive in Africa today—in Liberia. I +went there after we was free. I liked it. Just the thoughts of bein' +where Christ traveled—that's the good part of it. They furnished us +transportation to go to Africa after the war and a lot of the colored +folks went. I come back cause I had a lot of kin here, but I sent my +daughter and two sisters there and they're alive there today." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WindhamTomB"></a> +<h3>FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden<br> +Subject: Apparitions<br> +<br> +Information by: Tom Windham<br> +Place of Residence: 723 Missouri St. Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Occupation: None (Age 92)</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]<br> +[TR: Same name, address, six year age difference from last informant.]</p> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'm, I believe in spirits—you got two spirits—one bad and one +good, and when you die your bad spirit here on this earth. +</p> +<p> +Now my mother comes to see me once in awhile at night. She been dead +till her bones is bleached, but she comes and tells me to be a good boy. +I always been obedient to old and young. She tell me to be good and she +banish from me. +</p> +<p> +My grandmother been to see me once. +</p> +<p> +Old Father Abraham Lincoln, I've seen him since he been dead too. I got +a gun old Father Abraham give me right out o' his own hand at Vicksburg. +I'm goin' to keep it till I die too. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'm, I know they is spirits." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WindhamTom2"></a> +<h3>Pine Bluff District<br> +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS<br> +Interviewer: Martin - Barker<br> +Subject: Ex-Slave<br> +Story.<br> +<br> +Information by: Tom Windham<br> +Place of Residence: 1221 Georgia St.<br> +Age: 87</h3> +<p>[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]</p> +<br> +<p> +My master was an Indian. Lewis Butler of Oklahoma. I was born and raised +in Muskogee, Okla. +</p> +<p> +All of marse Butler's people were Creek Indians. They owned a large +plantation and raised vegetables. They lived in tepees, had floors and +were set on a lot and a wall boarded up around them. This was done so +that they could hide the slaves they had stolen. +</p> +<p> +I was twelve or thirteen years old, when the Indians had a small war. +They wouldn't allow us to fight. If we did, we were punished. They had a +place and made us work. I went to school two months also a little at +night. Cant read nor write. I am all alone now here in America. I have a +daughter in Ethiopia, teaching school, also two sisters. +</p> +<p> +I served in several wars and I have been to Ethiopia. We left Monroe, +La., took water, then went back by gun-boat to Galveston. The Government +took us over and brought us back. After the Civil war was over the +Indians let the slaves go. +</p> +<p> +I had an Indian wife and wore Indian dress and when I went to Milford, +Tenn., I had to send the outfit home to Okla. I had long hair until +1931. +</p> +<p> +My Indians believed in our God. They held their meetings in a large +tent. They believed in salvation and damnation, and in Heaven and Hell. +</p> +<p> +My idea of Heaven is that it is a holy place with God. We will walk in +Heaven just as on earth. As in him we believe, so shall we see. +</p> +<p> +The earth shall burn, and the old earth shall pass away and the new +earth will be created. The saints will return and live on, that is the +ones who go away now. +</p> +<p> +The new earth is when Jesus will cone to earth and reign. Every one has +two spirits. One that God kills and the other an evil spirit. I have had +communication with my dead wife twice since I been in Pine Bluff. Her +spirit come to me at night, calling me, asking whar wuz baby? +</p> +<p> +That meant our daughter whut is across the water. +</p> +<p> +My first wifes name was Arla Windham. My second wife was just part +Indian. I have seen spirits of friends just as they were put away. I +shore believe in ghosts. Their language is different from ours. I knew +my wife's voice cause she called me "Tommy". +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WiseAlice"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Alice Wise<br> + 1112 Indiana Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in South Carolina, and I sent and got my age and the man +sent me my age. He said he remembered me. He said, 'You married Marcus +Wise. I know you is seventy-nine 'cause I'm seventy-four and you're +older'n me. Why, I got a boy fifty-three years old. +</p> +<p> +"We belonged to Daniel Draft. His wife was named Maud. And my father's +people was named Wesley Caughman and his wife was Catherine Caughman. +</p> +<p> +"I can recollect hearin' the folks hollerin' when the Yankees come +through and singin' this old cornfield song +</p> +<pre> +'I'm a goin' away tomorrow + Hoodle do, hoodle do.' +</pre> +<p> +That's all I can recollect. +</p> +<p> +"I can recollect when we moved from the white folks. My father driv' a +wagon and hauled lumber to Columbia from Lexington. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know how old I was when I come here. My age got away from me, +that's how come I had to write home for it, but I had three chillun when +I come to this country; I know that. +</p> +<p> +"I went to school a little, but chillun in them days had to work. I was +always apt about washin' and ironin' and sewin' and so if anybody was +stopped from school I was stopped. I used to set pockets in pants for +mama. In them days they weaved and made their own. +</p> +<p> +"They'd do better if they had a factory here now. Things wouldn't be so +high. +</p> +<p> +"Oh Lord, yes, I could knit. I'd sit up some nights and knit a half a +sock and spin and card. +</p> +<p> +"My mother's boys would card and spin a broach when they wasn't doin' +nothin' else, but nowadays you can't get 'em to bring you a bucket of +water. +</p> +<p> +"They say they is weaker and wiser, but I say they is weaker and +foolisher. That's what I think. You know they ain't like the old folks +was. Folks works nowadays and keeps their chillun in school till they're +grown, and it don't do 'em much good-some of 'em." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WiseFrank"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Frank Wise, 1006 Victory Street,<br> + Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: 81 to 85</h3> +<br> +<p><b>Birth and Parents</b></p> +<p> +"I was born in Burch County, Georgia, in 1854. I came to this state in +1871; I think I was about sixteen years old then. +</p> +<p> +"My father was named Jim Wise and my mother was named Harriet Wise. My +father belonged to the Wises, and my mother to the Crawfords. They +didn't live on the same plantation. When they married, she was a +Crawford. Her old master was named Jim Crawford. I don't know how she +and my father happened to meet up. Wise and Crawford had adjoining +plantations. Both of them was in Burch County. My father's father was +named Jacob Wise and his mother was named Martha. I don't remember the +names of their master. I don't remember the names of my mother's people. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>War Memories</b></p> +<p> +"I remember the year the War ended. I remember when the Yankees came on +the place that day the War ended. We children was all settin' out in the +yard. Some of them ran under the house when they saw the soldiers. They +were shooting the chickens and everything, taking the horses, and +anything else they thought they could use. They said to the old lady, +'Lemme kill them little niggers.' Old miss said, 'No, wait till you set +them free.' He said, 'No, when we set them free, we ain't goin' to kill +them.' They got around in the house, under the house, and in the yard. +They asked the old lady, 'Where is the horses?' She said, 'I don't +know.' They said, 'Go down in the woods and get them.' Somebody went +down and brought back a mare and a mule and a colt. They knocked the +colt in the head and shot him. They took the mare and the mule. They +took all the meat out of the smokehouse. They didn't set us free, and +they didn't tell us anything about freedom. Not then. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> +<p> +"I don't remember how we got the news of freedom. I don't remember what +the slaves expected to get. I don't know what they got, if they got +anything. I don't remember nothin' about that. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Schooling</b></p> +<p> +"I went to school about eight days. That's all the schooling I ever got. +I had a brother and sister who went to school, but I never went much. I +went to school what little I did right here in Lonoke County, Arkansas. +My teacher was Tom Fuller. He was a colored man. He came from down in +Texas. I learned everything I know by watching people and listenin' to +them. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Occupational Experiences</b></p> +<p> +"The first thing I ever did was farming. I farmed all up till 1879. I +worked on steamboat till 1881, and then I went out railroading. I worked +at that a long time. I married in 1883. I was about twenty-seven years +old then, and a few months over. +</p> +<p> +"While I was farming, I did some sharecropping, but I never got cheated +out of anything. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Ku Klux</b> +</p> +<p> +"I remember the folks had been off to see their people and the Ku Klux +taken the stock while they were gone. I don't remember the Ku Klux Klan +interfering with the Negroes much. I never saw them. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Voting</b></p> +<p> +"I never voted till Cleveland began his campaign for President. I voted +for eight presidents. Nobody ever bothered me about it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Family</b></p> +<p> +"There were six children in my mother's family. My father had six +brothers. He made the seventh. I had nine children in all. Four of them +are living now. One is here; one, in St. Louis; and two, in Chicago. My +boy is in Chicago. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Opinions</b></p> +<p> +"The majority of the young people are just growing up. Lots of them are +not getting any raising at all." +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Interviewer's Comment</b></p> +<p> +Wise is between eighty-one and eighty-five years old. The data he gives +conflict, some of it indicating the earlier and some of it later years. +</p> +<p> +He doesn't talk much and has to be pumped. He doesn't lose the thread of +the discourse. His failure to talk on details of his early life seem to +the interviewer due to unwillingness rather than lack of memory. While +his age is advanced, his mind is sharp for one who has had such limited +training. +</p> +<p> +He has no definite means of support, but states that he has been +promised a pension in September--he means old age assistance. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WithersLucy"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Lucy Withers, Brinkley, Arkansas<br> +Age: 86</h3> +<br> +<p> +I was born 5-1/2 miles from Abbeville, South Carolina, in sight of +Little Mountain. I do remember the Civil War. I never seen them fight. +They come to about twenty or thirty miles from where I lived. They +didn't bother much in the parts where I lived. All the white men folks +went to war. My mama's master was Edward Roach and his wife was Miss +Sarah Roach. My papa's master was Peter Radcliff and Miss Nancy +Radcliff. They give me to her niece, Miss Jennie Shelitoe. When she +married she wanted me. After freedom I married. In 1866 we come to a big +farm close to Pine Bluff. Then we lived close to Memphis and I been +living here in Brinkley a long time. +</p> +<p> +The Ku Klux put down a Governor in South Carolina right after the war. +They rode everywhere night and day scaring everybody. They wouldn't let +no colored people hold office. That governor was a colored man. The Ku +Klux whipped both black and white folks. They run the Yankees plumb out +er that country. +</p> +<p> +No sir ree I never voted and I ain't never goner vote! Women is tearing +dis world up. +</p> +<p> +The ex-slaves was told that they would got things, different things. I +don't know what all. I know they didn't got nothing and when freedom +came they took their clothes and left. They scattered out and went to +different places. It was hard to get work and there was no money cept +what the Yankees give em. When they all got run off there was no money. +</p> +<p> +My husband was a Yankee soldier and he decided he wanter come to this +country. We come on the train and on the boat to Pine Bluff. We farmed. +I got three children but just two living. One boy lives at Fargo and the +girl lives at Chicago. My husband died. Me and my sister lives here. I +bought a place with my pension money. That since my husband died. +</p> +<p> +The present times is hard. I don't know nithin about these young folks. +I tends to my own business. I ain't got nothing to do with the young +folks. I don't know what causes the times to be so hard. Folks used to +wear more clothes than they do and let colored folks have more ironing +and bigger washings too. The washings bout played out. Some few folks +hire cooks. +</p> +<p> +I farmed and washed and ironed and I have cooked along some here in +Brinkley. +</p> +<p> +I am supported by my pension my husband left me. It ain't much but I +make out with it. It is Union Soldiers Pension. +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WoodsAnna"></a> +[HW: Hot Springs] +<h3>Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins<br> +Person interviewed: Anna Woods, 426 Grand Avenue<br> +</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'am. Come on in. Is you taking lists of folks for old age +pensions? Can you tell us what we going to get and when it's going to +come? No? Then—Oh, I see you is writing us up. Well maybe that will +help us to get attention. Cause we sure does need the pension. +</p> +<p> +To be sure I remembers slave days. My grandmother—she was give away in +the trading yard. She was aflicted. What was the matter with her? Was +she lame? No ma'am, she had the scrofula. So her mother was sold away +from her, but she was give away. She was give away to a woman named +Glover. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Glover was a old woman when I knowed her. She was an old, old +woman. She sort of studied before she'd say anything. She was a pretty +good old woman though, Mrs. Glover was. She wouldn't let her colored +folks be whipped. She wouldn't let me work in the field. Old Donovan +wanted me to work in the field—but she wouldn't let him make me. +Donovan was Mary's husband. Mary was Mrs. Glover's girl's girl. Mrs. +Glover's girl was named Kate. +</p> +<p> +Mrs. Glover had a whole flock of slaves. My mother and another woman +named Sallie cooked and did the washing. Fannie, she was my sister, was +old Mrs. Glover's maid. Robert and Sally and Lucy—they was my brother +and sisters—all of them worked in the field. They had to begin early +and work late. They got them out way fore day. They worked them til +dark. +</p> +<p> +I remembers that Sally and Lucy used to wear boots and roll their skirts +up nearly to their waistses. Why—well you see sometimes it was muddy. +Did we raise rice—No, ma'am. We mostly raised corn and cotton, like +everybody else. +</p> +<p> +We lived near Natchez. No ma'am, I never see but one colored person +whipped. His name was Robert. They laid him down on his stomach to whip +him. Never did hear what he had done. Maybe he run off. They usually +whipped them for that. No ma'am. I was right. Mrs. Glover didn't let her +colored folks be whipped. Robert, you see, was Donovan's man. He didn't +belong to Mrs. Glover. Her folks never got whipped. +</p> +<p> +Maybe Robert run off. I don't know. The folks did one thing special to +keep them from running. They fastened a sort of yoke around they necks. +From it there run up a sort of piece and there was a bell on the top of +that. It was so high the folks who wore it couldn't reach the bell. But +if they run it would tinkle and folks could find them. I don't quite +know how it worked—I just slightly remembers. +</p> +<p> +No, ma'am, I was just sort of a little girl before the war. You might +say I was never a slave. Cause I didn't have to work. Mrs. Glover +wouldn't let me work in the field and I didn't have much work to do in +the house either. Mrs. Glover was an old widow woman, but she was shore +good. Miss Kate was her onliest child. Kate's daughter was named Mary. +</p> +<p> +Was I afraid of the soldiers? No ma'am. I wasn't. +</p> +<p> +Lots of them that came through were colored soldiers. I remember that +they wore long tailed coats. They had brass buttons on they coats. But +we had to move from Natchez. +</p> +<p> +First the soldiers run us off to Tennisaw Parish—an island there." (A +check on maps in the atlas of Encyclopedia Britannica reveals a Tenses +Parish, Louisiana—across the river and a few miles north of Natchez.) +"We couldn't even stay there. They drove us along, and finally we wound +up in Texas. +</p> +<p> +We wasn't there in Texas long when the soldiers marched in to tell us +that we was free. Seems to me like it was on a Monday morning when they +come in. Yes, it was a Monday. They went out to the field and told them +they was free. Marched them out of the fields. They come a'shouting. I +remembers one woman, she jumped up on a barrell and she shouted. She +jumped off and she shouted. She jumped back on again and shouted some +more. She kept that up for a long time, just jumping on a barrell and +back off again. +</p> +<p> +Yes ma'am, we children played. I remembers that the grown folks used to +have church—out behind an old shed. They'd shout and they'd sing. We +children didn't know what it all meant. But every Monday morning we'd +get up and make a play house in an old wagon bed—and we'd shout and +sing too. We didn't know what it meant, or what we was supposed to be +doing. We just aped our elders. +</p> +<p> +When the war was over my brother, he drove the carriage, he drove the +white folks back to Natchez. But we didn't go—my family. We stopped +part way to Natchez. Never did see Miss Kate or Mrs. Glover again. Never +did see them again. Lots later my brother learned where we was. He came +back for us and took us to Natchez. But we never did see Mrs. Glover +again. +</p> +<p> +I lived on in Natchez. I worked for white folks—cooked for them. I did +a lot of traveling. Even went up into Virginia. Traveled most of the +time. I'd go with one family and when we'd get back, there'd be another +one who wanted me to go and take care of their children. +</p> +<p> +Been in Hot Springs since 1905. Worked for Dr. ---- first. Stayed right +in the house. Never did see such fine folks as Dr. ---- " (prominent +local surgeon) "and his wife. Then I worked for Mr. ---- " (prominent +realtor) "Yes, and I's worked at the Army and Navy Hospital too. Mighty +nice up there. Worked in the officer's mess—finest place up there. I's +worked for the officers too. Then I's worked for the Levi Hospital. +Worked for lots of folks. +</p> +<p> +I's worked for lots of folks and in lots of places. But I haven't got +anything now. How soon do you think they will begin paying us? I get +just $10 from the county every month. $5 of that goes for my house. +Folks gives me clothes, but if they'd only give me groceries too, I +could get along. When do you think they will begin to pay us? +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WoodsCal"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Cal Woods; R.F.D., Biscoe, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85?</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I don't know zactly how old I is. I was good size boy when the war come +on. We all belonged to a man named John Woods. We lived in South +Carolina during slavery. Slavery was prutty bad itself but the bad time +come after the war. The land was hilly some red and some pore and sandy. +Had to plough a mule or horse. Hard to make a living. Some folks was +rich, had heap of slaves and some bout one family. Small farmer have 160 +acres and one family of slaves. When a man had one or two slave families +he treated em better an if he had a great big acreage and fifteen or +twenty families. The white folks trained the black man and woman. If he +have so many they didn't learn how to do but one or two things. Mas +generally they all worked in the fields in the busy seasons and +sometimes the white folks have to work out there too. Sometimes they get +in debt and have to sell off some slave to pay the debt. +</p> +<p> +"Things seemed heap mo plentiful. Before the war folks wore fine +clothes. They go to their nearest tradin point and sell cotton. They had +fine silk clothes and fine knives and forks. They would buy a whole case +o cheese at one time and a barrel of molasses. Folks eat more and worked +harder than they do now. +</p> +<p> +"Some folks was mean to their slaves and some slaves mean. It is lack it +is now, some folks good no matter what dey color, other folks bad. Black +folks never knowed there was freedom till they was fighting and going to +war. Some say they was fightin to save their slaves, some say the Union +broke. The slave never been free since he come to dis world, didn't know +nuthin bout freedom till they tole em bout it. +</p> +<p> +"I recollect bout the Ku Klux after the war. Some folks come over the +country and tell you you free and equal now. They tell you what to do an +how to run the country and then if you listen to them come the Ku Klux +all dressed half mile down the road. That Ku Klux sprung up after the +war bout votin an offis-holdin mong the white folks. The white folks +ain't then nor now havin no black man rulin over him. Them Ku Klux +walked bout on high sticks and drink all the water you have from the +spring. Seem lack they meddled a whole heap. Course the black folks +knowed they was white men. They hung some slaves and white Yankees too +if they be very mean. They beat em. Hear em hollowing and they hollow +too. They shoot all directions round and up an down the road. That's how +you know they comin close to yo house. If you go to any gatherins they +come break it up an run you home fast as you could run and set the dogs +on you. Course the dogs bite you. They say they was not goiner have +equalization if they have to kill all the Yankees and niggers in the +country. The masters sometime give em a home. My mother left John Woods +then. The family went back. He give her an my papa twenty acres their +lifetime. Where dey stayed on the old folks had a little at some places. +They didn't divide up no plantations I ever heard of. They never give em +no mules. If some tole em they would I know they sho didn't. Didn't give +em nuthin I tell you. My mother's name was Sylvia and papa's name was +Hack Woods. +</p> +<p> +"I come to Arkansas so my little boys would have a home. I had a little +home an sold it to come out here. Agents come round showin pictures how +big the cotton grow. They say it grow like trees out here. The children +climb the stalks an set on the limb lack birds to pick it. They show +pictures like that. Cotton basket way down under it on the ground. See +droves of wild hogs coming up, look big as mules. Men ridin em. No I +didn't know they said it was so fine. We come in freight cars wid our +furniture and everything we brought. We had our provision in baskets and +big buckets. It lasted till we passed Atlanta. We nearly starved the +rest of the way. When we did stop you never hear such a hollein. We come +two days and nights hard as we could come. We stayed up and eat, cooked +meat an eggs on the stove in the store till daybreak. Then they showed +us wha to go to our places the next day. I been here ever since. +</p> +<p> +"I hab voted. I done quit lettin votin bother me up. All I see it do is +give one fellow out of two or three a job both of them maybe ought to +have. The meanest man often gets lected. It the money they all after not +the work in it. I heard em say what all they do and when they got lected +they forgot to do all they say they would do. +</p> +<p> +"I never knowed bout no slave uprisins. Thed had to uprose wid rocks an +red clods. The black man couldn't shoot. He had no guns. They had so +much work they didn't know how to have a uprisin. The better you be to +your master the better he treat you. The white preachers teach that in +the church." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WoodsMaggie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Maggie Woods<br> + Brassfield, Ark.<br> + Deaner Farm.<br> +Age: 70</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My parents was Fannie and Alfred Douglas. They had three children, then +he died and my mother married a man name Thompson. My parents belong to +the Douglasses at Summerville, Tennessee. They had six children in their +family. +</p> +<p> +"I was born the second year of the surrender that make me seventy years +old. My folks was all field hands. They was all pure African stock. All +black folks like me. Grandma Liney Douglass said she was sold and +Grandpa was sold too. My own parents never was sold. The Douglass +men-folks whooped the slaves but they was good masters outside of that. +</p> +<p> +"They would steal off and have preachin' at night. Had preachin' nearly +all night sometimes. They'd hurry and get in home fore the day be +breakin'. From the way they talked they done more prayin' than +preachin'. +</p> +<p> +"Whenever they be sick they would send to the Douglasses to know what to +do. They would take them up to their house and doctor them or come down +to the quarters and wait on whoever be sick. They had some white doctors +about but not near enough. They trained black women to be midwives. +</p> +<p> +"I think my folks had enough to eat and clothes too I recken. They eat +meat to give them strength to work. My old stepdaddy always make us eat +piece of meat if we eat garden stuff. He say the meat have strength in +it. Cornbread, meat, peas and potatoes used to be the biggest part of +folks livin' in olden days. They had plenty milk. +</p> +<p> +"Children when I come on didn't have no use for money. We eat molasses. +Had a little candy once in a while. That be the best thing Santa Claus +would bring me. We get ginger cakes in our new stockings too. Santa +Claus been comin' ever since I been in the world. Seem like Christmas +never would come round agin. It don't seem near so long now. +</p> +<p> +"I was too young to know about freedom. We was livin' on Douglas farm +when George Flenol (white) come and brought us to Indian Bay. We worked +on Dick Mayo's place. I don't know what they expected from freedom but +I'm pretty sure they never got nothing. +</p> +<p> +"When the black folks come free then the Ku Klux took it up and made 'em +work and stay at home. I heard that some folks wanted to stay in the +road all the time. The Ku Klux nearly scared me to death to see pass by. +They never did bother us. +</p> +<p> +"I don't vote. Don't know nothing about it. I don't like the way that is +fixed for us to live now. We pay house rent and works as day laborers. +It makes the work too heavy at some times and no work to do nearly all +the time. It is making times hard. Cotton and corn choppin' time and +cotton pickin' time is all the times a woman like me can work. I raised +a shoat. I got no room for garden and chickens. +</p> +<p> +"I got one girl, she way from here, she sent me $2.00 for my Christmas. +</p> +<p> +"The young generation is weaker in body than us old folks has been. They +ain't been raised to hard work and they don't hold out. +</p> +<p> +"That is salve I'm making. What do it smell like? It smell like +chitlings. In that sack is the inside of the chitlings (hog manure). I +boil it down and strain it, then boll it down, put camphor gum and fresh +lard in it, boil it down low and pour it up. It is a green salve. It is +fine for piles, rub your back for lumbago, and swab out your throat for +sore throat. It is a good salve. I had a sore throat and a black woman +told me how to make it. It cures the sore throat right now. +</p> +<p> +"I live on what I am able to work and make. I never have got no help +from the government." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WordSam"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Sam Word, 1122 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 79</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I'm a sure enough Arkansas man, born in Arkansas County near De Witt. +Born February 14, 1859, and belonged to Bill Word. I know Marmaduke come +down through Arkansas County and pressed Bill Word's son Tom into the +service. +</p> +<p> +"I 'member one song they used to sing called the 'Bonnie Blue Flag.' +</p> +<pre> +'Jeff Davis is our President + And Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + +'Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern rights, + Hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag + That bears a Single Star!'" +</pre> +<p> +(The above verse was sung to the tune of "The Bonnie Blue Flag." From +the Library of Southern Literature I find the following notation about +the original song and its author, Harry McCarthy: "Like Dixie, this +famous song originated in the theater and first became popular in New +Orleans. The tune was borrowed from 'The Irish Jaunting Car', a popular +Hibernian air. Harry McCarthy was an Irishman who enlisted in the +Confederate army from Arkansas. The song was written in 1861. It was +published by A.E. Blackmar who declared General Ben Butler 'made it very +profitable by fining every man, woman, or child who sang, whistled or +played it on any instrument twenty-five dollars.' Blackmar was arrested, +his music destroyed, and a fine of five hundred dollars imposed upon +him.") +</p> +<p> +"I stayed in Arkansas County till 1866. I was about seven years old and +we moved here to Jefferson County. Then my mother married again and we +went to Conway County and lived a few years, and then I come back to +Jefferson County, so I've lived in Jefferson County sixty-eight years. +</p> +<p> +"In Conway County when I was a small boy livin' on the Milton Powell +place, I 'member they sent me out in the field to get some peaches about +a half mile from the slave quarters. It was about three o'clock, late +summer, and I saw something in the tree—a black lookin' concern. Seem +like it got bigger the closer I got, and then just disappeared all of a +sudden and I didn't see it go. I know I went back without any peaches. +</p> +<p> +"And another thing I can tell you. In the spring of the year we was +hoein' and when they quit at night they'd leave the hoes in the field, +stickin' down in the ground. And next morning they wouldn't be where you +left 'em. You'd have to look for 'em and they'd be lyin' on top of the +ground and crossed just like sticks. +</p> +<p> +"I'll tell you what I do know. When we was livin' in Conway County old +man Powell had about ten colored families he had emigrated from +Jefferson County. Our folks was the only colored people in that +neighborhood. And he had a white man that was a tenant on the place and +he died. Now my mother and his wife used to visit one another. In them +days the white folks wasn't like they are now. And so mother went there +to sit up with his wife. And while she was sittin' up the house was full +of people—white and colored. They begin to hear a noise about the +coffin. So they begin to investigate the worse it got and moved around +the room and it lasted till he was took out of the house. Now I've heard +white and colored say that was true. They never did see it but they +heard it. +</p> +<p> +"I don't think there is any ghosts now but they was in the past +generation. +</p> +<p> +"I know many times me and my stepfather would be pickin' cotton and my +dog would be up at the far end of the row and just before dark he'd +start barkin' and come towards us a barkin' and we never could see +anything. He'd do that every day. It was a dog named Natch—an English +bull terrier. He was give to me a puppy. He was a sure enough bulldog +and he could whip any dog I ever saw. He was an imported dog. +</p> +<p> +"I remember a house up in Conway County made out of logs—a two-story +one just this side of Cadron Creek on the Military Road. Then they +called it the Wire Road because the telegraph wire run along it. The +house was vacant after the people that owned it had died, and people +comin' along late at night would stop to spend the night, and in the +middle of the night they'd have to get out. Now I've heard that with my +own ears. There was a spring not far from the house. It had been a fine +house and was a beautiful place to stop. But in the night they'd hear +chairs rattlin' and fall down. It's my belief they had spooks in them +old days. +</p> +<p> +"Now I'll tell you another incident. This was in slave times. My mother +was a great hand for nice quilts. There was a white lady had died and +they were goin' to have a sale. Now this is true stuff. They had the +sale and mother went and bought two quilts. And let me tell you, we +couldn't sleep under 'em. What happened? Well, they'd pinch your toes +till you couldn't stand it. I was just a boy and I was sleepin' with my +mother when it happened. Now that's straight stuff. What do I think was +the cause? Well, I think that white lady didn't want no nigger to have +them quilts. I don't know what mother did with 'em, but that white lady +just wouldn't let her have 'em. +</p> +<p> +"Now I'm puttin' the oil out of the can—I mean that what I say is true. +People now will say they ain't nothin' to that story. At that time the +races wasn't 'malgamated. But people are different now—ain't like they +was seventy-five years ago. +</p> +<p> +"Visions? Well, now I'm glad you asked me that. I'll take pleasure in +tellin' you. Two years before I moved to this place I had a vision and I +think I saw every colored person that was ever born in America, I +believe. I was on the east side of my house and this multitude of people +was about four feet from me and they was as thick as sardines in a box +and they was from little tots up. Some had on derby hats and some was +bareheaded. I talked with one woman—a brown skinned woman. They was +sitting on seats just like circus seats just as far as my eyes could +behold. Looked like they reached clear up in the sky. That was when I +fust went blind. You've read about how John saw the multitude a hundred +forty and four thousand and I think that was about one-fourth of what I +saw. They was happy and talkin' and nothin' but colored people—no white +people. +</p> +<p> +"Another vision I had. I dreamed that the day that I lived to be +sixty-five, that day I would surely die. I thought the man that told me +that was a little old dried-up white man up in the air and he had scales +like the monkey and the cat weighed the cheese. I thought he said, 'That +day you will surely die,' and one side of the scales tipped just a +little and then I woke up. You know I believed this strong. That was in +1919 and I went out and bought a lot in Bellwood Cemetery. But I'm still +livin'. +</p> +<p> +"Old Major Crawley who owned what they called the Reader place on this +side of the river, four miles east of Dexter, he was supposed to have +money buried on his place. He owned it during slavery and after he died +his relatives from Mississippi come here and hired a carriage driver +named Jackson Jones. He married my second cousin. And he took 'em up +there to dig for the money, but I don't know if they ever found it. Some +people said the place was ha'nted." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WordSamB"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Sam Word<br> + 1122 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 78</h3> +<p>[TR: Same birthdate as previous informant.]</p> +<br> +<p> +"I was born February 14, 1859. My birthplace was Arkansas County. Born +in Arkansas and lived in Arkansas seventy-eight years. I've kept up with +my age—didn't raise it none, didn't lower it none. +</p> +<p> +"I can remember all about the war, my memory's been good. Old man Bill +Word, that was my old master, had a son named Tom Word and long about in +'63 a general come and pressed him into the Civil War. I saw the Blue +and the Gray and the gray clothes had buttons that said C.S., that meant +secessioners. Yankees had U.S. on their buttons. Some of em come there +so regular they got familiar with me. Yankees come and wanted to hang +old master cause he wouldn't tell where the money was. They tied his +hands behind him and had a rope around his neck. Now this is the +straight goods. I was just a boy and I was cryin' cause I didn't want em +to hang old master. A Yankee lieutenant comes up and made em quit—they +was just the privates you know. +</p> +<p> +"My old master drove a ox wagon to the gold fields in California in '49. +That's what they told me—that was fore I was born. +</p> +<p> +"Good? Ben Word good? My God Amighty, I wish I had one-hundredth part of +what I got then. I didn't exist—I lived. +</p> +<p> +"Ben Word bought my mother from Phil Ford up in Kentucky. She was the +housekeeper after old mistress died. I'll tell you something that may be +amusing. Mother had lots of nice things, quilts and things, and kept em +in a chest in her little old shack. One day a Yankee soldier climbed in +the back window and took some of the quilts. He rolled em up and was +walking out of the yard when mother saw him and said, 'Why you nasty, +stinkin' rascal. You may you come down here to fight for the niggers, +and now you're stealin' from em.' He said, 'You're a G-D—liar, I'm +fightin' for $14 a month and the Union.' +</p> +<p> +"I member there was a young man named Dan Brown and they called him Red +Fox. He'd slip up on the Yankees and shoot em, so the Yankees was always +lookin' for him. He used to go over to Dr. Allen's to get a shave and +his wife would sit on the front porch and watch for the Yankees. One day +the Yankees slipped up in the back and his wife said, 'Lord, Dan, +there's the Yankees.' Course he run and they shot him. One of the +Yankees was tryin' to help him up and he said, 'Don't you touch me, call +Dr. Allen.' Yes ma'm, that was in Arkansas County. +</p> +<p> +"I never been anywhere 'cept Arkansas, Jefferson, and Conway Counties. I +was in Conway County when they went to the precinct to vote for or +against the Fort Smith & Little Rock Railroad. The precinct where they +went to vote was Springfield. It used to be the county seat of Conway +County. +</p> +<p> +"While the war was goin' on and when young Tom Word would come home from +school, he learned me and when the war ended, I could read in McGuffy's +Third Reader. After that I went to school three months for about four +years. +</p> +<p> +"Directly after Emancipation, the white men in the South had to take the +Oath of Allegiance. Old master took it but he hated to do it. Now these +are stubborn facts I'm givin' you but they's true. +</p> +<p> +"After freedom mother brought me here to Pine Bluff and put me in the +field. I picked up corn stalks and brush and carried water to the hands. +Children in them days worked. After they come from school, even the +white children had work to do. Trouble with the colored folks now, to my +way of thinkin', is they are top heavy with literary learning and +feather light with common sense and domestic training. +</p> +<p> +"I remember a song they used to sing daring the war: +</p> +<pre> +'Jeff Davis is our President + Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + </pre> +<p> + "And here's another one: +</p> +<pre> +'Hurrah for Southern rights, hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonny Blue Flag + That bore the single star.' +</pre> +<p> +"Yes, they was hants sixty years ago. The generation they was interested +has bred em out. Ain't none now. +</p> +<p> +"I never did care much for politics, but I've always been for the South. +I love the Southland. Only thing I don't like is they don't give a +square deal when it comes between the colored and the Whites. Ten years +ago, I was worth $15,000 and now I'm not worth fifteen cents. The real +estate men got the best of me. I've been blind now for four years and +all my wife and I have is what we get from the Welfare." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WorthyIke"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Ike Worthy<br> + 2413 W. 11th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in Selma, Alabama on Christmas day and I'm goin' on 75. +</p> +<p> +"I can 'member old missis' name Miss Liza Ann Bussey. I never will +forget her name. Fed us in a trough—eighteen of us. Her husband was +named Jim Bussey, but they all dead now. +</p> +<p> +"When I got large enough to remember we went to Louisiana. I was sixteen +when we left Alabama—six hundred head of us. Dr. Bonner emigrated us +there for hisself and other white men. +</p> +<p> +"There was nine of us boys in my parents' family. We worked every day +and cleared land till twelve o'clock at night. On Saturday we played +ball and on Sunday we went to Sunday school. +</p> +<p> +"We worked on the shares—got half—and in the fall we paid our debts. +Sometimes we had as much as $150 in the clear. +</p> +<p> +"Most money I ever had was farmin'. I farmed 52 years and never did buy +no feed. Raised my own meat and lard and molasses. Had four milk cows +and fifteen to twenty hogs. You see, I had eight children in the family. +</p> +<p> +"Never went to school but one day in my life, then my father put us to +work. Never learned to read. You see everybody in the pen now'days got a +education. I don't think too much education is good for 'em. +</p> +<p> +"I was 74 Christmas day. +</p> +<p> +"Garland, Brewster—the sheriff and the judge—I missed them boys when +they was little. Worked at the brickyard. +</p> +<p> +"I got shot accidental and lost my right leg 32 years ago when I was +farmin'. I've chopped cotton and picked cotton with this peg-leg. Mr. +Emory say he don't see how I can do it but I goes right along. I made +$21 pickin' and $18 choppin' last year. I picked up until Thanksgiving +night. +</p> +<p> +"I worked at the Long-Bell Lumber Company since I had this peg-leg too. +I stayed in Little Rock 23 years. Had a wood yard and hauled wood. +</p> +<p> +"Yes ma'am, I voted the 'Publican ticket. No ma'am, I never did hold any +office. +</p> +<p> +"I don't know what goin' come of the younger generation. To my idea I +don't think there's anything to 'em. They is goin' to suffer when all +the old ones is dead. +</p> +<p> +"I goes to the Zion Methodist Church. No ma'am, I'm not a preacher—just +a bench member." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WrightAlice"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor<br> +Person interviewed: Alice Wright<br> + 2418 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas<br> +Age: About 74</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born way yonder in slavery time. I don't know what part of +Alabama nor exactly when, but I was born in slavery time and it was in +Alabama. My oldest boy would be fifty-six years old if he were living. +My father said he was born in slavery time and that I was born in +slavery time. I was a baby, my papa said, when he ran off from his old +master and went to Mississippi. He lived in the thickets for a year to +keep his old master from finding out where he was. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Father, Mother and Family</b></p> +<p> +"My father's name was Jeff Williams. He's been dead a long time. Nobody +living but me and my children. My mother's name was Malinda Williams. My +father had seven children, four girls and five boys. Four of the boys +were buried on the Cummins (?) place. It used to be the old place of old +Man Flournoy's. My oldest brother was named Isaac. +</p> +<p> +"I had sixteen children; four of them are still living—two boys and two +girls. The boys is married and the daughters is sick. No, honey, I can't +tell how many of em all was boys and girls. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>House</b></p> +<p> +"My folks lived right in the white folks' yard. I don't know what kind +of house it was. My mother used to cook and do for the white folks. She +caught her death of cold going backward and forward milking and so on. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How the Children were Fed</b></p> +<p> +"They'd put a trough on the floor with wooden spoons and as many +children as could get around that trough got there and eat, they would. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>How Freedom Came</b></p> +<p> +"Dolly and Evelyn were upstairs spinning thread and overheard the old +master saying that peace was declared but they didn't want the niggers +to know it. Father had them to throw their clothes out the windows. Then +he slipped out with them. Malinda Williams, my mother, came with them. +Dolly and Evelyn were my sisters. I don't know my master's name, but it +must have been Williams because all the slaves took their old master's +names when they were freed. I was a baby in my daddy's arms when he ran +away. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Patrollers</b></p> +<p> +"I heard my papa talk about the patrollers. He said they used to run +them in many a time. That is the reason he had to cross the bridge that +night going over the Mississippi into Georgia. The slaves had been set +free in Georgia, and he wanted to get there from Alabama. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>What the Slaves Got</b></p> +<p> +"The slaves never got nothin' when they were freed. They just got out +and went to work for themselves. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> +<p> +"My father tended to the white folks' mules. He wasn't no soldier. When +he married my mother, he was only fifteen years old. His master told him +to go pick himself out a wife from a drove of slaves that were passing +through, and he picked out my mother. They married by stepping over the +broom. The old master pronounced them master and wife. +</p> +<p><b>Slave Droves</b></p> +<p> +"The drove passed through Alabama, but my father didn't know where it +came from nor where it went. They were selling slaves. They would pick +up a big lot of them somewhere, and they would drive them across the +country selling some every place they stopped. My master bought my +mother out of the drove. Droves came through very often. I don't know +where they came from. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>War Memories</b></p> +<p> +"My father remembered coming through Alabama. He remembered the soldiers +coming through Alabama. They didn't bother any colored people but they +killed a lot of white people, tore up the town and took some white +babies out and busted their brains out. That is what my father said. My +father died in 1910. He was pushing eighty then and maybe ninety. He had +a house full of grown children and grandchildren and great +grandchildren. He wasn't able to do no work when he died. It was during +the War that my father ran away into Georgia with me, too. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Breeding</b></p> +<p> +"My father said they put medicine in the water (cisterns) to make the +young slaves have more children. If his old master had a good breeding +woman he wouldn't sell her. He would keep her for himself. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Worship</b></p> +<p> +"When they were praying for peace they used to turn down the wash +kettles to keep the sound down. In the master's church, the biggest +thing that was preached to them was how to serve their master and +mississ. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Indians</b></p> +<p> +"My grandmother was a full-blood Indian. I don't know from what tribe. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Buried Treasure</b></p> +<p> +"People used to bury their money in iron pots and chests and things in +order to keep the soldiers from getting it. In Wabbaseka [HW: Ark.] +there they had money buried. They buried their money to keep the +soldiers from getting it. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Ku Klux</b></p> +<p> +"The Ku Klux Klan came after freedom. They used to take the people out +and whip them. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Just After the War</b></p> +<p> +"Immediately after the War, papa farmed. Most of it was down at the +Cummins place. When he ran away to Georgia, he didn't stay there. He +left and came back to Mississippi. I don't know just when my papa came +to the Cummins' place. It was just after the War. After be left the +Cummins' place he worked at the Smith place. Then he was farming agent +for sometime for old man Cook in Jefferson County. He would see after +the hands. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Voting</b></p> +<p> +"I ain't never voted in my life. I know plenty men that used to vote but +I didn't. I never heard of no women voting. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Occupation</b></p> +<p> +"I used to do field work. I washed and ironed until I got too old to do +anything. I can't do anything now. I ain't able. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Support</b></p> +<p> +"I get the old age pension and the Welfare give me some commodities for +myself and my sick daughter. She ain't been able to walk for a year. +</p> +<br> +<p><b>Marriage</b></p> +<p> +"I married Willis Wright in July 1901. He did farming mostly. When he +died in 1928, he was working at the Southern Oil Mill. He didn't leave +any property." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WrightHannahBrooks"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Hannah Brooks Wright<br> + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 85<br> +Occupation: Laundress</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery times. I was born on Elsa Brooks' +plantation in Mississippi. I don't know what year 'twas but I know 'twas +in slavery times. +</p> +<p> +"I was a great big gal when the Yankees come through. I was Elsa Brooks' +house gal. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when a man come through to 'vascinate' all the chillun that +was born in slavery times. I cut up worse than any of 'em—I bit him. I +thought he was gwine cut off my arm. Old missis say our names gwine be +sent to the White House. Old missis was gwine around with him tryin' to +calm 'em down. +</p> +<p> +"And the next day the Yankees come through. The Lord have mercy! I +think I was 'bout twelve years old when freedom come. We used to ask old +missis how old we was. She'd say, 'Go on, if I tell you how old you is, +your parents couldn't do nothin' with you. Jus' tell folks you was born +in slavery times!' Gramma wouldn't tell me neither. She'd say, 'You +hush, you wouldn't work if you knowed how old you is.' +</p> +<p> +"I used to sit on the lever a many a day and drive the mule at the gin. +You don't know anything 'bout that, do you? +</p> +<p> +"I remember one time when the Yankees was comin' through. I was up on +top of a rail fence so I could see better. I said, 'Just look a there at +them bluebirds.' When the Yankees come along one of 'em said, 'You get +down from there you little son of a b----.' I didn't wait to climb down, +I jus' fell down from there. Old missis come down to the quarters in her +carriage—didn't have buggies in them days, just carriages—to see who +was hurt. The Yankees had done told her that one of her gals had fell +off the fence and got hurt. I said, 'I ain't hurt but I thought them +Yankees would hurt me.' She said, 'They won't hurt you, they is comin' +through to tell you you is free.' She said if they had hurt me she would +jus' about done them Yankees up. She said Jeff Davis had done give up +his seat and we was free. +</p> +<p> +"Our folks stayed with old missis as long as they lived. My mammy cooked +and I stayed in the house with missis and churned and cleaned up. Old +master was named Tom Brooks and her name was Elsa Brooks. Sometimes I +jus' called her 'missis.' +</p> +<p> +"Old missis told the patrollers they couldn't come on her place and +interfere with her hands. I don't know how many hands they had but I +know they had a heap of 'em. +</p> +<p> +"Sometimes missis would say it looked like I wanted to get away and +she'd say, 'Why, Hannah, you don't suffer for a thing. You stay right +here at the house with me and you have plenty to eat.' +</p> +<p> +"I was the oldest one in my mammy's family. +</p> +<p> +"I just went to school a week and mammy said they needed me at the +house. +</p> +<p> +"Then my daddy put me in the field to plow. Old missis come out one day +and say, 'Bill, how come you got Hannah plowin'? I don't like to see her +in the field.' He'd say, 'Well, I want to learn her to work. I ain't +gwine be here always and I want her to know how to work.' +</p> +<p> +"They had me throwin' the shickles (shuttles) in slavery times. I used +to handle the cyards (cards) too. Then I used to help clean up the milk +dairy. I'd be so tired I wouldn't know what to do. Old missis would say, +'Well, Hannah, that's your job.' +</p> +<p> +"We used to have plenty to eat, pies and cakes and custards. More than +we got now. +</p> +<p> +"I own this place if I can keep payin' the taxes. +</p> +<p> +"Old missis used to say, 'You gwine think about what I'm tellin' you +after I'm dead and gone.' +</p> +<p> +"Young folks call us old church folks 'old <i>ism</i> folks,' 'old fogies.' +They say, 'You was born in slavery times, you don't know nothin.' You +can't tell 'em nothin'. +</p> +<p> +"I follows my mind. You ain't gwine go wrong if you does what your mind +tells you." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YatesTom"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson<br> +Person interviewed: Tom Yates, Marianna. Arkansas<br> +Age: 66</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I was born in 1872 in Mississippi, on Moon Lake. Mama said she was +orphan. She was sold when she was a young woman. She said she come from +Richmond, Virginia to Charleston, South Carolina. Then she was brought +to Mississippi and married before freedom. She had two husbands. Her +owners was Master Atwood and Master Curtis Burk. I don't know how it +come about nor which one bought her. She had four children and I'm the +youngest. My sister lives in Memphis. +</p> +<p> +"My father was sold in Raleigh, North Carolina. His master was Tom +Yeates. I'm named fer some of them. Papa's name was William Yeates. He +told us how he come to be sold. He said they was fixing to sell grandma. +He was one of the biggest children and he ask his mother to sell him and +let grandma raise the children. She wanted to stay with the little ones. +He said he cried and cried long after they brought him away. They all +cried when he was sold, he said. I don't know who bought him. He must +have left soon after he was sold, for he was a soldier. He run away and +want in the War. He was a private and mustered out at DeValls Bluff, +Arkansas. That is how come my mother to come here. He died in 1912 at +Wilson, Arkansas. He got a federal pension, thirty-six dollars, every +three months. He wasn't wounded, or if he was I didn't hear him speak of +it. He didn't praise war." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungAnnie"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: Annie Young, 913 West Scull Street,<br> + Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 76</h3> +<br> +<p> +"My old master's name was Sam Knox. I 'members all my white people. My +mother was the cook. +</p> +<p> +"We had a good master and a good mistress too. I wish I could find some +of my master's family now. But after the war they broke up and went up +North. +</p> +<p> +"I 'member well the day my old master's son got killed. My mother was +workin' in the field and I know she come to the house a cryin'. I +'member well when we was out in the plum nursery and could hear the +cannons. My white girl Nannie told me 'Now listen, that's the war a +fightin'.' +</p> +<p> +"The soldiers used to come along and sometimes they were in a hurry and +would grab something to eat and go on and then sometimes they would sit +down to a long table. +</p> +<p> +"I could hear my great grandmother and my mother talkin' 'We'll be free +after awhile.' +</p> +<p> +"After the war my stepfather come and got my mother and we moved out in +the piney woods. My stepfather was a preacher and sometimes he was a +hundred miles from home. My mother hired out to work by the day. I was +the oldest of seven chillun and when I got big enough to work they +worked me in the field. When we cleaned up the new ground we got fifty +cents a day. +</p> +<p> +"I was between ten and twelve years old when I went to school. My first +teacher was white. But I tell you the truth, I learned most after my +children started to school. +</p> +<p> +"I worked twenty-three years for the police headquarters. I was janitor +and matron too. I washed and ironed too. I been here in Pine Bluff about +fifty or sixty years. +</p> +<p> +"If justice was done everybody would have a living. I earned the money +to buy this place and they come and wanted me to sign away my home so I +could get the old age pension but I just had sense enough not to do it. +I'm not goin' sign away my home just for some meat and bread." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungJohn1"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: John Young<br> + 925 E. 15th Ave., Pine Bluff, Ark.<br> +Age: 92</h3> +<br> +<p> +"Well, I don't know how old I is. I was born in Virginia, but my mother +was sold. She was bought by a speculator and brought here to Arkansas. +She brought me with her and her old master's name was Ridgell. We lived +down around Monticello. I was big enough to plow and chop cotton and +drive a yoke of oxen and haul ten-foot rails. +</p> +<p> +"Oh Lord, I don't know how many acres old master had. He had a +territory—he had a heap a land. I remember he had a big old carriage +and the carriage man was Little Alfred. The reason they called him that +was because there was another man on the place called Big Alfred. They +won't no relation—just happen to be the same name. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when the Yankees come and killed old master's hogs and +chickens and cooked 'em. There was a good big bunch of Yankees. They +said they was fightin' to free the niggers. After that I runned away and +come up here to Pine Bluff and stayed awhile and then I went to Little +Rock and jined the 57th colored infantry. I was the kittle drummer. We +marched right in the center of the army. We went from Little Rock to +Fort Smith. I never was in a big battle, just one little scrummage. I +was at Fort Smith when they surrendered and I was mustered out at +Leavenworth, Kansas. +</p> +<p> +"My grandfather went to war as bodyguard for his master, but I was with +the Yankees. +</p> +<p> +"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my grandmother's house. They nearly +scared us to death. I run and hid under the bed. They didn't do nothin', +just the looks of 'em scared us. I know they had the old folks totin' +water for 'em. Seemed like they couldn't get enough. +</p> +<p> +"After the war I come home and went to farmin'. Then I steamboated for +four years. I was on the Kate Adams, but I quit just 'fore it burned, +'bout two or three weeks. +</p> +<p> +"I never went to school a minute in my life. I had a chance to go but I +just didn't. +</p> +<p> +"No'm I can't remember nothin' else. It's been so long it done slipped +my memory." +</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungJohn2"></a> +<h3>Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden<br> +Person interviewed: John Young<br> + 923 E. Fifteenth, Pine Bluff, Arkansas<br> +Age: 89</h3> +<br> +<p> +"I know I was born in Arkansas. The first place I recollect I was in +Arkansas. +</p> +<p> +"I was a drummer in the Civil War. I played the little drum. The bass +drummer was Rheuben Turner. +</p> +<p> +"I run off from home in Drew County. Five or six of us run off here to +Pine Bluff. We heard if we could get with the Yankees we'd be free, so +we run off here to Pine Bluff and got with some Yankee soldiers—the +twenty-eighth Wisconsin. +</p> +<p> +"Then we went to Little Rock and I j'ined the fifty-seventh colored +infantry. I thought I was good and safe then. +</p> +<p> +"We went to Fort Smith from Little Rock and freedom come on us while we +was between New Mexico and Fort Smith. +</p> +<p> +"They mustered us out at Fort Leavenworth and I went right back to my +folks in Drew County, Monticello. +</p> +<p> +"I've been a farmer all my life till I got too old." +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: A Folk History of +Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, +by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOLK HISTORY OF SLAVERY *** + +***** This file should be named 11422-h.htm or 11422-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/2/11422/ + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +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: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States + From Interviews with Former Slaves + Arkansas Narratives, Part 7 + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: March 3, 2004 [EBook #11422] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOLK HISTORY OF SLAVERY *** + + + + +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 7 + + + + +Prepared by +the Federal Writers' Project of +the Works Progress Administration +for the State of Arkansas + + + +INFORMANTS + +Vaden, Charlie +Vaden, Ellen +Van Buren, Nettie +Vaughn, Adelaide J. + +Wadille [TR: Waddille], Emmeline +Wadille (Waddell), Emmeline (Emiline) +Waldon, Henry +Walker, Clara +Walker, Henry +Walker, Jake +Walker, Jake +Wallace, Willie +Warrior, Evans +Washington, Anna +Washington, Eliza +Washington, Jennie +Washington, Parrish +Watson, Caroline +Watson, Mary +Wayne, Bart +Weathers, Annie Mae +Weathers, Cora +Webb, Ishe +Wells, Alfred +Wells, Douglas +Wells, John +Wells, Sarah +Wells, Sarah Williams +Wesley, John +Wesley, Robert +Wesmoland, Maggie +West, Calvin +West, Mary Mays +Wethington, Sylvester +Whitaker, Joe +White, Julia A. +White, Lucy +Whiteman, David +Whiteside, Dolly +Whitfield, J.W. +Whitmore, Sarah +Wilborn, Dock +Wilks, Bell +Williams, Bell +Williams, Charley +Williams, Charlie +Williams, Columbus +Williams, Frank +Williams, Gus +Williams, Henrietta +Williams, Henry Andrew (Tip) +Williams, James +Williams, John +Williams, Lillie +Williams, Mary +Williams, Mary +Williams, Mary +Williams, Rosena Hunt +Williams, III, William Ball (Soldier) +Williamson, Anna +Williamson, Callie Halsey +Willis, Charlotte +Wilson, Ella +Wilson, Robert +Windham, Tom +Wise, Alice +Wise, Frank +Withers, Lucy +Woods, Anna +Woods, Cal +Woods, Maggie +Word, Sam +Worthy, Ike +Wright, Alice +Wright, Hannah Brooks + +Yates, Tom +Young, Annie +Young, John + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS + +Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson +Subject: NEGRO LORE +Story:--Information + +This information given by: Charlie Vaden +Place of Residence: Hazen, Green Grove, Ark. +Occupation: Farming +Age: 77 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +Charlie Vaden's father ran away and went to the war to fight. He was a +slave and left his owner. His mother died when he was five years old but +before she died she gave Charlie to Mrs. Frances Owens (white lady). She +came to Des Arc and ran the City Hotel. He never saw his father till he +was grown. He worked for Mrs. Owens. He never did run with colored folks +then. He nursed her grandchildren, Guy and Ira Brown. When he was grown +he bought a farm at Green Grove. It consisted of a house and forty-seven +acres of land. He farmed two years. A fortune teller came along and told +him he was going to marry but he better be careful that they wouldn't +live together or he might "drop out." He went ahead and married like he +was "fixing" to do. They just couldn't get along, so they got divorced. + +They had the wedding at her house and preacher Isarel Thomas (colored) +married them and they went on to his house. He don't remember how she +was dressed except in white and he had a "new outfit too." + +Next he married Lorine Rogers at the Green Grove Church and took her +home. She fell off the porch with a tub of clothes and died from it just +about a year after they married. + +He married again at the church and lived with her twenty years. They had +four girls and four boys. She died from the change of life. + +The last wife he didn't live with either. She is still living. + +Had another fortune teller tell his fortune. She said, "Uncle, you are +pretty good but be careful or you'll be walking around begging for +victuals." He said it had nearly come to that now except it hurt him to +walk. (He can hardly walk.) He believes some of what the fortune tellers +tell comes true. He has been on the same farm since 1887, which is +forty-nine years, and did fine till four years ago. He can't work, +couldn't pay taxes, and has lost his land. + +He was paralized five months, helpless as a baby, couldn't dress +himself. An herb doctor settled at Green Grove and used herbs for tea +and poultices and cured him. The doctors and the law run him out of +there. His name was Hopkins from Popular Bluff, Missouri. + +Charlie Vaden used to have rheumatism and he carried a buckeye in each +pants pocket to make the rheumatism lighter. He thought it did some +good. + +He has a birthmark. Said his mother must have craved pig tails. He never +had enough pig tails to eat in his life. The butchers give them to him +when he comes to Hazen or Des Arc. He said he would "fight a circle saw +for a pig tail." + +He can't remember any old songs or old tales. In fact he was too small +when his mother died (five years old). + +He believes in herb medicine of all kinds but can't remember except +garlic poultice is good for neuralgia. Sassafras is a good tea, a good +blood purifier in the spring of the year. + +He knows a weather sign that seldom or never falls. "Thunder in the +morning, rain before noon." "Seldom rains at night in July in Arkansas." + +He has seen lots of lucky things but doesn't remember them. "It's bad +luck to carry hoes and rakes in the living house." "It's bad luck to spy +the new moon through bushes or trees." + +He doesn't believe in witches, but he believes in spirits that direct +your course as long as you are good and do right. He goes to church all +the time if they have preaching. Green Grove is a Baptist church. He is +not afraid of dead people. "They can't hurt you if they are dead." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Ellen Vaden + DeValls Bluff, Ark. +Age: 83 + + +"I am 83 years old. My mother come from Georgia. She left all her kin. +Our owner was Dave and Luiza Johnson. They had two girls and a +boy--Meely, Colly and Tobe. My mother's aunt come to Memphis in slavery +time and come to see us. She cooked and bought herself free. The folks +what owned her hired her out till they got paid her worth. She died in +Memphis. I never heard father say where he come from or who owned him. +He lived close by somewhere. + +"My mother cooked. Me and Dave Johnson's boy nursed together. When they +had company, Miss Luiza was so modest she wouldn't let Tobe have +'titty'. He would come lead my mother behind the door and pull at her +till she would take him and let him nurse. She said he would lead her +behind the door. + +"I don't remember freedom. I know the Ku Klux was bad around Augusta, +Arkansas. One time when I was little a crowd of Ku Klux come at about +dusk. They told Dave Johnson they wanted water. He told them there was a +well full but not bother that woman and her children in the kitchen. +Dave Johnson was a Ku Klux himself. They went on down the road and met a +colored woman. She knowed their horses. She called some of them by name +and they let her alone. + +"One time a colored man was settin' by the fire. His wife was sick in +bed. He seen the Ku Klux coming and said 'Lord God, here comes the +devil.' He run off. They didn't bother her. She told them she was sick. +When she got up and well she wouldn't live with that husband no more. + +"Up at Bowens Ridge they took some colored men out one night and if they +said they was Republicans they let them go but if they said they was +Democrats they whooped them so hard they nearly killed some of them. +Some said they was bushwhackers or carpet baggers and not Ku Klux. + +"I am a country-raised woman. I had a light stroke and cain't work in +the field. I get $8.00 and commodities. I like to live here very well. I +don't meddle with young folks business. Seems like they do mighty +foolish things to me. Times been changing ever since I come in this +world. It is the people cause the times to change. I wouldn't know how +to start to vote." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Nettie Van Buren, Clarendon, Arkansas + Ex school-teacher +Age: 62 + + +"My mother was named Isabel Porter Smith. She come from Springville. +Rev. Porter brought her to Mississippi close to Holly Springs. Then she +come to Batesville, Arkansas. He owned her. He was a circuit rider. I +think he was a Presbyterian minister. I heard her say they brought her +to Arkansas when she was a small girl. She nursed and cooked all the +time. After freedom she went with Reverend Porter's relatives to work +for them. I know so very little about what she said about slavery. + +"My father was raised in North Carolina. His name was Jerry Smith and +his master he called Judge Smith. My father made all he ever had +farmin'. He knew how to raise cotton. He owned a home. This is his home +(a nice home on River Street in Clarendon) and 80 acres. He sold this +farm two miles from here after he had paralysis, to live on. + +"My parents had two girls and two boys. They all dead but me. My +mother's favorite song was "Oh How I Love Jesus Because He First Loved +Me." They come here because my mother had a brother down here and she +heard it was such fine farmin' land. + +"When I was a little girl my father was a Presbyterian so he sent me to +boardin' school in Cotton Plant and then sent me to Jacksonville, +Illinois. I worked my board out up there. Mrs. Dr. Carroll got me a +place to work. My sister learned to sew. She sewed for the public till +her death. She sewed for both black and white folks. I stretches +curtains now if I can get any to stretch and I irons. It give me +rheumatism to wash. I used to wash and iron. + +"My husband cooks on a Government derrick boat. He gets $1.25 and his +board. They have the very best things to eat. He likes the work if he +can stay well. He can cook pies and fancy cookin'. They like that. Say +they can't hardly get somebody work long because they want to be in town +every night. + +"We have one child. I used to be a primary teacher here at Clarendon. + +"I never have voted. My husband votes but I don't know what he thinks +about it. + +"I try to look at the present conditions in an encouraging way. The +young people are so extravagant. The old folks in need. The thing most +discouraging is the strangers come in and get jobs home folks could do +and need and they can't get jobs and got no money to leave on nor no +place to go. People that able to work don't work hard as they ought and +people could and willin' to work can't get jobs. Some of the young folks +do sure live wild lives. They think only of the present times. A few +young folks are buying homes but not half of them got a home. They work +where they let 'em have a room or a house. Different folks live all +kinds of ways." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Adelaide J. Vaughn + 1122 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 69 + + +"I was born in Huntsville, Alabama. My mother brought me from there when +I was five years old. She said she would come to Arkansas because she +had heard so much talk about it. But when she struck the Arkansas line, +she didn't like it and she wanted to go back. I have heard her say why +but I don't remember now; I done forgot. She thought she wouldn't like +it here, but she did after she stayed a while. + +"My bronchial tubes git all stopped up and make it hard for me to talk. +Phlegm gits all around. I been bothered with them a good while now. + +"My mother, she was sold from her father when she was four years old. +The rest of the children were grown then. Master Hickman was the one who +bought her. I don't know the one that sold her. Hickman had a lot of +children her age and he raised her up with them. They were nice to her +all the time. + +"Once the pateroles came near capturing her. But she made it home and +they didn't catch her. + +"Mr. Candle hired her from her master when she was about eighteen years +old. He was nice to her but his wife was mean. Just because mother +wouldn't do everything the other servants said Mis' Candle wanted to +whip her. Mother said she knew that Mis' Candle couldn't whip her alone. +But she was 'fraid that she would have Sallie, another old Negro woman +slave, and Kitty, a young Negro woman slave, to help whip her. + +"One day when it was freezing cold, she wanted mother to stand out in +the hall with Sallie and Clara and wash the glasses in boiling hot +water. She was making her do that because she thought she was uppity and +she wanted to punish her. When mother went out, she rattled the dishes +'round in the pan and broke them. They was all glasses. Mis' Candle +heard them breaking and come out to see about it. She wanted to whip +mother but she was 'fraid to do it while she was alone; so she waited +till her husband come home. When he come she told him. He said she +oughtn't to have sent them out in the cold to wash the glasses because +nobody could wash dishes outside in that cold weather. + +"The first morning she was at Mis' Candle's, they called her to eat and +they didn't have nothing but black molasses and corn bread for mother's +meal. The other two ate it but mother didn't. She asked for something +else. She said she wasn't used to eating that--that she ate what her +master and mistress ate at home. + +"Mis' Candle didn't like that to begin with. She told my mother that she +was a smart nigger. She told mother to do one thing and then before she +could do it, she would tell her do something else. Mother would just go +on doing the first thing till she finished that, and Mis' Candle would +git mad. But it wasn't nobody's fault but her own. + +"She asked mother to go out and git water from the spring on a rainy +day. Mother wouldn't go. Finally mother got tired and went back home. +Her mistress heard what she had to tell her about the place she'd been +working. Then she said mother did right to quit. She had worked there +for three or four months. They meant to keep her but she wouldn't stay. +Mis' Hickman went over and collected her money. + +"When mother worked out, the people that hired her paid her owners. Her +owners furnished her everything she wanted to eat and clothes to wear, +and all the money she earned went to them. + +"Mis' Candle begged Mr. Hickman to let him have mother back. He said +he'd talk to his wife and she wouldn't mistreat her any more but mama +said that she didn't want to go back and Mrs. Hickman said, 'No, she +doesn't want to go back and I wouldn't make her.' And the girls said, +'No, mama, don't let her go back.' And Mis' Hickman said, 'No, she was +raised with my girls and I am not going to let her go back.' + +"The Hickmans had my mother ever since she was four years old. My +grandfather was allowed to go a certain distance with her when she was +sold away from him. He walked and carried her in his arms. Mama said +that when he had gone as far as they would let him go, he put her in the +wagon and turned his head away. She said she wondered why he didn't look +at her; but later she understood that he hated so bad to 'part from her +and couldn't do nothing to prevent it that he couldn't bear to look at +her. + +"Since I have been grown I have worked with some people at Newport. I +stayed with them there and married there, and had all my children there. + +"I heard the woman I lived with, a woman named Diana Wagner, tell how +her mistress said, 'Come on, Diana, I want you to go with me down the +road a piece.' And she went with her and they got to a place where there +was a whole lot of people. They were putting them up on a block and +selling them just like cattle. She had a little nursing baby at home and +she broke away from her mistress and them and said, 'I can't go off and +leave my baby.' And they had to git some men and throw her down and hold +her to keep her from goin' back to the house. They sold her away from +her baby boy. They didn't let her go back to see him again. But she +heard from him after he became a young man. Some one of her friends that +knowed her and knowed she was sold away from her baby met up with this +boy and got to questioning him about his mother. The white folks had +told him his mother's name and all. He told them and they said, 'Boy, I +know your mother. She's down in Newport.' And he said, 'Gimme her +address and I'll write to her and see if I can hear from her.' And he +wrote. And the white people said they heard such a hollering and +shouting goin' on they said, 'What's the matter with Diana?' And they +came over to see what was happening. And she said, 'I got a letter from +my boy that was sold from me when he was a nursing baby.' She had me +write a letter to him. I did all her writing for her and he came to see +her. I didn't get to see him. I was away when he come. She said she was +willing to die that the Lord let her live to see her baby again and had +taken care of him through all these years. + +"My father's name was Peter Warren and my mother was named Adelaide +Warren. Before she was married she went by her owner's name, Hickman. My +daddy belonged to the Phillips but he didn't go in their name. He went +in the Warren's name. He did that because he liked them. Phillips was +his real father, but he sold him to the Warrens and he took their name +and kept it. They treated him nice and he just stayed on in their name. +He didn't marry till after both of them were free. He met her somewheres +away from the Hickman's. They married in Alabama. + +"Mama was born and mostly reared in Virginia and then come to Alabama. +That's where I was born, in Alabama. And they left there and came here. +I was four years old when they come here. + +"I never did hear what my father did in slavery time. He was a twin. The +most he took notice of he said was his brother and him settin' on an old +three-legged stool. And his mother had left some soft soap on the fire. +His brother saw that the pot was goin' to turn over and he jumped up. My +father tried to get up too but the stool turned over and caught him, +caught his little dress and held him and the hot soap ran over his dress +and on to his bare skin. It left a big burn on his side long as he +lived. His mother was there close to the house because she knowed the +soap was on and those two little boys were in there. She heard him +crying and ran in and carried him to her master. He got the doctor and +saved him. My father's mother didn't do nothing after that but 'tend to +that baby. Her master loved those little boys and kept her and _didn't +sell her because of them_. (The underscoring is the interviewer's--ed.) +That was his last master--Warren. Warren loved him more than his real +father did. Warren said he knew my father would never live after he had +such a burn. But he did live. They never did let him do much work after +the accident. + +"I think my father's master, Warren--I can't remember his first +name--farmed for a living. + +"My father and mother had five children. I don't know how many brothers +my father had. I have heard my mother say she had four sisters. I never +heard her say nothin' 'bout no brothers--just sisters. + +"I had six children. Got three living and three dead. They was grown +though when they died. I had three boys and three girls. I got two boys +living and one girl. The boy in St. Louis does pretty well. But the +other in Little Rock doesn't have much luck. If he'd get out of Little +Rock, he would find more to do. The one in St. Louis don't make much now +because they done cut wages. He's a dining-car waiter. This girl what's +here, she does all she can for me. She has a husband and my husband is +dead. He's been dead a long time. + +"I belong to Bethel A.M.E. Church. You know where that is. Rev. Campbell +is a good man. We had him eight years. Then we got Brother Wilson one +year and then they put Campbell back. + +"I don't know what to think of these young people. Some of them is +running wild. + +"When I was working for myself, I was generally a maid. But that is been +a long time ago. I washed and ironed and done laundry work when I was +able a long time ago. But I can't do it now. I can't do it for myself +now. I washed for myself a little and I got the flu and got in bad +health. That was about four years ago. I reckon it was the flu; I never +did have no doctor. When I take the least little cold, it comes back on +me." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This old lady appears nearer eighty than sixty-nine, and she speaks with +the sureness of an eyewitness. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Blanche Edwards +Person interviewed: Emmeline Waddille (deceased) + Lonoke County, Arkansas +Age: 106 + + +She immigrated with her owner, L.W.C. Waddille, to Lonoke County in +1851, coming to Hickory Plains and then to Brownsville. They moved from +Hayburn, Georgia in a covered wagon drawn by oxen. + +She lived with a great-granddaughter, Mrs. John High, seven miles north +of Lonoke, until 1932, when she died. She had nursed six generations of +the Waddille family. She was born a deaf-mute but her hearing and speech +were restored many years ago when lightening struck a tree under which +she was standing. + +Emmeline told of how they would stop for the night on the rough journey, +and while the men fed the stock, the women and slaves would cook the +evening meal of hoecake, fried venison, and coffee. The women slept in +the wagons and the men would sleep on the creek watching for wild life. +With other pioneers, they suffered all the hardships and dangers +incident to the settling of the new country more than three-fourths of a +century ago. + +Emmeline always had good care. She worked hard and faithfully and was +amply rewarded. + + + + +[HW: High] + +Circumstances of Interview +STATE--Arkansas +NAME OF WORKER--Blanche Edwards +ADDRESS--Lonoke, Arkansas +DATE--October 20, 1938 +SUBJECT--An Old Slave [TR: Emiline Waddell] +[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.] + + +1. Name and address of informant--Mrs. John G. High, living nine miles +north of Lonoke, Arkansas. + +2. Date and time of interview--October 20, 1938 + +3. Place of interview--At the home of Mrs. John G. High, nine miles +north of Lonoke. + +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-- + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc. + + +Text of Interview + +Emiline Waddell, a former slave of the L.W. Waddell family, lived to be +106 years old, and was active up to her death. + +She was born a slave in 1826 at Haben county, Georgia, a slave of +Claybourne Waddell, who emigrated to Brownsville, in 1851, in covered +wagons, oxen drawn. + +Her "white folks" were three weeks making the trip from the ferry across +the Mississippi to old Brownsville; after traveling all day through the +bad and boggy woods, at the end of their rough journey at eventide, the +movers dismounted and began hasty preparations for the night. While the +men were feeding the stock and providing temporary quarters, the women +assisted the slaves in preparing the evening meal, of hoe-cake, fried +venison and coffee. Then the women and children would sleep in the +wagons while the men kept watch for wild life. + +Mammy Emiline was a faithful old black mammy, true to life and +traditions, and refused her freedom, at the close of the war, as wanted +to stay and raise "Old Massa's chilluns," which she did, for she was +nursing her sixth generation in the Waddell family at the time of her +death. Even to that generation there was a close tie between the +southern child and his or her black mammy. A strange almost unbelievable +thing happened to Emiline; she was born a deaf mute, but her hearing and +speech was restored many years before her death, when lightening struck +a tree under which she was standing. + +Superstitious beliefs were strong in her and her tales of "hants" were +to "her little white chilluns", really true but hair-raising. Then she +would talk and live again the "days that are no more", telling them of +the happy prosperous, sunny land, in her negro dialect, and then tell of +the ruin and desolation behind the Yankees; the hard times my white +folks had in the reconstruction days--negro and carpetbag rule; then +give them glimpses of good--much courage, some heart and human feeling; +perhaps ending with an outburst of the negro spiritual, her favorite +being, "Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to carry me home." + +After a faithful service of 106 years, Emiline died in 1932 at the home +of Mrs. John G. High, a great-granddaughter of L.W.C. Waddell living +nine miles north of Lonoke, and the grown up great-great-grandchildren +still miss Mammy. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Henry Waldon + 816 Walnut Street. North Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 84 + + +"I was plowing when they surrendered. I had just learned to plow, and +was putting up some land. My young master come home and was telling me +the War was ended and we was all free. + +"I was born in Lauderdale County, Mississippi. I think it was about +1854. My father's name [HW: was] ----, my mother's [HW: was] ----, I +knew them both. + +"My mother belonged to Sterling and my father belonged to a man named +Huff--Richmond Huff. + +"We lived in Lauderdale County. Huff wouldn't sell my father and my +people wouldn't sell my mother. They lived about a mile or so apart. +They didn't marry in them days. The niggers didn't, that is. Father +would just come every Saturday night to see my mother. His cabin was +about three miles from her's. We moved from Lauderdale County to Scott +County, Mississippi, and that separated mama and papa. They never did +meet again. Of course, I mean it was the white people that moved, but +they carried mama and us with them. Papa and mama never did meet again +before freedom, and they didn't meet afterwards. + +"My mother had twelve children--eight girls and four boys. She had one +by a man named Peter Smith. She was away from her husband then. She had +four by my father--two boys and two girls; my father's name was Peter +Huff. My mother's name was Mary Sterling. I never did see my father no +more after we moved away from him. + +"My father made cotton and corn, plowed and hoed in slavery time. His +old master had seventy-five or eighty hands. His old master treated him +pretty rough. He whipped them about working. He never hired no overseer +over them. When he whipped them he took their shirts off and whipped +them on their naked backs. He cut the blood out of some of them. He +never did rub no salt nor vinegar in their wounds. His youngest son done +his overseeing. He would whip them sometime but he wasn't tight on them +like some that I knowed. + +"A fellow by the name of Jim Holbert was mean to his slaves as a man +could be. He would whip them night and day. Work them till dark; then +they would eat supper. Cook their own supper. Had nothing to cook but a +little meat and bread and molasses. Then they would go back and bale up +three or four bales of cotton. Some nights they work till twelve o'clock +then get up before daylight--'round four o'clock--and cook their +breakfast and go to work again. That was on Jim Holbert and Lard Moore's +place. Them was two different men and two different places--plantations. +They whipped their slaves a good deal--always beating down on somebody. +They made their backs sore. Their backs would be bleeding just like they +cut it with knives. Then they would wash it down with water and salt. + +"On my master's farm, each one cooked in his own cabin. While the hands +were working, my master left one child, the largest, stay there and +taken care of the little ones. + +"They had bloodhounds too; they'd run you away in the woods. Send for a +man that had hounds to track you if you run away. They'd run you and bay +you, and a white man would ride up there and say, 'If you hit one of +them hounds, I'll blow your brains out.' He'd say 'your damn brains.' +Them hounds would worry you and bite you and have you bloody as a beef, +but you dassent to hit one of them. They would tell you to stand still +and put your hands over your privates. I don't guess they'd have killed +you but you believed they would. They wouldn't try to keep the hounds +off of you; they would set them on you to see them bite you. Five or six +or seven hounds bitin' you on every side and a man settin' on a horse +holding a doubled shotgun on you. + +"My old miss's sister hired slave women out to old Jim Holbert once. One +of them was in a delicate state, and they dug a hole and put her stomach +down in it and whipped her till she could hardly walk. + +"Holbert lived to see the niggers freed. All of his slaves left him +pretty well when freedom come. He managed to hold on to his money. He +didn't go to the War. He was pretty old. He had two sons in the War--his +wife had one in there and he had one. One of them got wounded but he +didn't die. + +"My mistress's oldest son, Ed Sterling, got shot in the Civil War. He +got shot right in the side at Franklin, Tennessee. It tore his whole +side off--near about killed him. But he lived to ride paterole. He was +mean. Catch a man in bed with his wife at night, he'd whip him and make +him go home. He was the meanest man in the world. All the other sons +were better than he was. His name was Ed Sterling. + +"The first thing I remember was work. You weren't allowed to remember +nothing but work in slave times and you got whipped about that. You +weren't allowed to go nowhere but carry the mules out to the pasture to +eat grass. Sometimes they jump the fence and go over in the field and +eat corn. Me and another fellow named Sandy used to watch them all day +Sunday. Watching the mules and working in the fields through the week +was the first work I remember. Me and my sister worked on one row. The +two of us made a hand. She is down in Texas somewheres now. They taken +her from old lady Sterling's place. She give them to her son and he +carried them down in Texas. He had a broken leg and never did go to the +war. If he did, I never knowed nothing about it. + +"None of the masters never give me anything. None of them as I knows of +never give anything to any of the slaves when they freed 'em. Never give +a devilish thing. Told them that they was free as they was and that they +could stay there and help them make crops if they wanted to. The biggest +part of them stayed. The rest went away. Their husbands taken them away. + +"Right after the war my mother married an old fellow who used to be old +Holbert's nigger driver. He stayed on Sterling's place one night. He +stayed there a year. Then he married my mother and went to old Holbert's +place and of course, we had to go too. I stayed there and worked for +him. And my mama too and the two youngest sisters and the youngest +brother stayed with me. I run away from him in '86. I went down the +railroad about five miles and an old colored fellow give me a job. He +used to belong to the railroad boss. + +"I worked nearly two years on that railroad; then I left and come on +down to Arkansas. I have been right here on this spot about forty years. +I don't know how long it is been since I first come here, but it is been +a long time ago. I paid fire insurance on this place for thirty-nine +years. I lived over the river before I came to North Little Rock. I +worked for the railroad company thirty-eight years. It's been fifteen +years since I was able to work--maybe longer. + +"I belong to Little Bethel Church (A.M.E.) here in North Little Rock. I +been a member of that church more than thirty-five years. + +"I have been married twice, and I am the father of three children that +are living and two that dead--Tommy, Jim, Ewing, Mayzetta, and the baby. +He was too young to have a name when he died. + +"I think things is worse than they ever was. Everything we get we have +to pay for, and then pay for paying for it. If it wasn't for my wife I +could hardly live because I don't get much from the railroad company." + + + + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person Interviewed: Aunt Clara Walker Aged: 111 + Home: "Flatwoods" district, Garland County. Own property. + + +Story by Aunt Clara Walker + +"You'll have to wait a minute ma'am. Dis cornbread can't go down too +fas'. Yes ma'am, I likes cornbread. I eats it every meal. I wouldn't +trade just a little cornbread for all de flour dat is. + +Where-bouts was I born? I was born right here in Arkansas. Dat is it was +between an on de borders of it an dat state to de south--yes ma'am, +dat's right, Louisiana. My mother was a slave before me. She come over +from de old country, she was a-runnin' along one day front of a--a--dat +stripedy animal--a tiger? an' a man come along on an elephant and scoop +her up an' put her on a ship. + +Yes ma'am. My name's Clara Walker. I was born Clara Jones, cause my +pappy's name was Jones. But lots of folks called me Clara Cornelius, +cause Mr. Cornelius was de man what owned me. Did you ever hear of a +child born wid a veil over its face? Well I was one of dem! What it +mean? Why it means dat you can see spirits an' ha'nts, an all de other +creatures nobody else can see. + +Yes ma'am, some children is born dat way. You see dat great grandchild +of mine lyin' on de floor? He's dat way. He kin see 'em too. Is many of +'em around here? Lawsey dey's as thick as piss-ants. What does dey look +like? Some of 'em looks like folks; an' some of 'em looks like hounds. +When dey sees you, dey says "Howdy!" an' if you don't speak to 'em dey +takes you by your shoulders an dey shakes you. Maybe dey hits you on de +back. An' if you go over to de bed an lies in de bed an' goes to sleep, +dey pulls de cover off you. You got to be polite to 'em. What makes 'em +walk around? Well, I got it figgured out dis way. Dey's dissatisfied. +Dey didn't have time to git dey work done while dey was alive. + +Dat greatgrandchild of mine, he kin see 'em too. Now my eight +grandchildren an' my three children what's alivin' none of 'em can see +de spirits. Guess dat greatgrandchild struck way back. I goes way back. +My ol' master what had to go to de war, little 'fore it was over told me +when he left dat I was 39 years old. Somebody figgured it out for me dat +I's 111 now. Dat makes me pretty old, don't it? + +There was another fellow on a joinin' plantation. He was a witch doctor. +Brought him over from Africa. He didn't like his master, 'cause he was +mean. So he make a little man out of mud. An' he stick thorns in its +back. Sure 'nuff, his master got down with a misery in his back. An' de +witch doctor let de thorn stay in de mud-man until he thought his master +had got 'nuff punishment. When he tuck it out, his master got better. + +Did I got to school. No ma'am. Not to book school. Dey wouldn't let +culled folks git no learnin'. When I was a little girl we skip rope an' +play high-spy (I Spy). All we had to do was to sweep de yard an go after +de cows an' de pigs an de sheep. An' dat was fun, cause dey was lots of +us children an we all did it together. + +When I was 13 years old my ol' mistress put me wid a doctor who learned +me how to be a midwife. Dat was cause so many women on de plantation was +catchin' babies. I stayed wid dat doctor, Dr. McGill his name was, for 5 +years. I got to be good. Got so he'd sit down an' I'd do all de work. + +When I come home, I made a lot o' money for old miss. Lots of times, +didn't sleep regular or git my meals on time for three--four days. Cause +when dey call, I always went. Brought as many white as culled children. +I's brought most 200, white an' black since I's been in Hot Springs. +Brought a little white baby--to de Wards it was--dey lived jest down de +lane--brought dat baby 'bout 7 year ago. + +I's brought lots of 'em an' I ain't never lost a case. You know why. +It's cause I used my haid. When I'd go in, I'd take a look at de woman, +an' if it was beyond me, I'd say, 'Dis is a doctor case. Dis ain't no +case for a midwife. You git a doctor.' An' dey'd have to get one. I'd +jes' stan' before de lookin' glass, an' I wouldn't budge. Dey couldn't +make me. + +I made a lot of money for ol' miss. But she was good to me. She give me +lots of good clothes. Those clothes an my mother's clothes burned up in +de fire I had a few years ago right on dis farm. Lawsey I hated loosin' +dose clothes I had when I was a girl more dan anything I lost. An' I +didn't have to work in de fields. In between times I cooked an' I would +jump in de loom. Yes, ma'am I could weave good. Did my yards every day. +I weave cloth for dresses--fine dresses you would use thread as thin as +dat you sews wid today--I weaves cloth for underclothes, an fo +handkerchiefs an for towels. Den I weaves nits and lice. What's +dat--well you see it was kind corse cloth de used for clothes like +overalls. It mas sort of speckeldy all over--dat's why dey called it +nits and lice. + +Law, I used to be good once, but after I got all burned up I wasn't good +for so much. It happened dis way. A salt lick was on a nearby +plantation. Ever body who wanted salt, dey had to send a hand to help +make it. I went over one day--an workin' around I stepped on a live +coal. I move quick an' I fall plum over into a salt vat. Before dey got +me out I was pretty near ruined. + +What did dey do? Dey killed a hog--fresh killed a hog. An' dey fry up de +fat--fry it up wid some of de hog hairs an' dey greesed me good. An' it +took all de fire out of de burns. Dey kept me greezed for a long time. I +was sick nearly six months. Dey was good to me. + +An one day, young miss, she married. Ol' miss give me to her 'long of 23 +others. Twenty four was all she could spare an' keep some for herself an +save enough for de other children. We went to California. Young Miss was +good, but her husband was mean. He give me de only white folks whippin I +ever had. Ol' miss never had to whip her slaves. I was tryin' to cook on +an earth stove--dat's why it happen. Did you ever hear of an earth +stove? Well, dey make sort of drawers out of dirt. You burn wood in 'em. +After you git used to it you kin cook on it good. But dat day I was busy +an' I burned de biscuits. An' he whip me. + +I run off. I knew in general de way home. When I come to de Brazos river +it looked most a mile across. But I jump in an' I swim it. One day I +done found a pearl handled pocket knife. A few days later I meet up wid +a white boy. An' he say its his knife, an' I say, 'White boy, I know dat +ain't your knife, an' you know it ain't. But if you'll write me out a +free pass, I'll give it to you.' An' so he wrote it. After dat, I could +walk right up to de front gates an ask for somthin' to eat. Cause I had +a paper sayin' I was Clara Jones an' I was goin' home to my ol' mistress +Mis' Cornelius. Please paterollers to leave me alone. An' folks along de +way, dey'd take me in an' feed me. Dey'd give me a place to stay an fix +me up a lunch to take along. Dey'd say, "Clara, you's a good nigger. +You's a goin' home to your ol' miss, so we's goin' to do for you." + +An' I got within five miles of home before dey catch me. An' my ol' miss +won't let me go back. She keep me an' send another one in my place. An' +de war kept on, an ol' massa had to go. An' word come dat he been +killed. + +Yes, 'em, some folks run off, an' some of 'em stayed. Finally ol' miss +refugeed a lot of us to California. What is it to refugee. Well, you +see, suppose you was afraid dat somebody go in' to take your property +an' you run 'em away off somewhere--how you come to know. + +When de war was over, young miss she come in an she say, 'Clara, you's +as free as I am.' 'No, I ain't.' says I. 'Yes, you is,' says she. 'What +you goin' to do?' 'I's goin' to stay an' work for you.' says I. 'No' +says she, 'you ain't cause I can't pay you.' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll go +home to see my old mother.' 'Tell you what,' says she, 'I ain't got nuff +money to send you, only part--so you go down to whar' dey is a'pannin' +gold. You kin git a Job at $2.00 per day.' + +Many's a day I've stood in water up to my waist pannin' gold. In dem +days dey worked women jest like men. I worked hard, an' young miss took +care of me. When I got ready to come home I bought my stage fare an' I +carried $300 on me back to my ol' mother. + +De trip took six weeks. Everywhere de stage would stop young miss had +writ a note to somebody and de stage coach men give it to 'em an dey +took care of me--good care. + +When I got home to my mother I found dat ol' miss had give all of 'em +somthin' along with settin 'em free. My mother had 12 children so she +git de mos'. She git a horse, a milk cow, 8 killin' hogs and 50 bushels +of corn. She moved off to a little house on ol' miss's plantation and +make a crop on halvers. She stay on dar for three--four years. Den she +move off into another county where she could go to meetin without havin' +to cross de river. An' I stayed on wid her an help her farm--I could +plow as good as a man in dem days. + +Finally I hear dat you could make more money in Hot Springs, so I come +to see. My mother was dead by dat time. De first year I made a crop for +Mr. Clay--my granddaughter cooks and tends to children for some of his +folks today. When I went to town an I washed at de Arlington hotel. It +wasn't de fine place it is today. It was jest boards like dis cabin of +mine. An I washed at another hotel--what was it--down across de creek +from de Arlington. Yes ma'am, dat's it. De Grand Central--it was grand +too--for dem days. An' I cooked for Dr. McMasters. An' I cooked for +Colonel Rector--de Rectors had lots of money in dem days. I could make a +weddin' cake good as anybody--with, a 'gagement ring in it. I could make +it fine--tho I don't know but two letters in de book an' thoses is A and +B. + +I married Mr. Walker. He was a hod carrier when dey built de old red +brick Arlington. I remember lots of things dat happened here. I remember +seein' de smoke from de fire--dat big one. We was a livin' near Picket +Springs--you don't know whare dat is. Well, does you know where de +soldier's breast work was--now I git you on to remembering. + +Den, later on we moved out an' got a farm near Hawes. I traded dat place +for dis one. Yes, ma'am I likes livin' in de country. Never did like +livin' in town. + +I don't right know whether culled folks wanted to be free or not. Lots +of 'em didn't rightly understand, Ol' miss was good to hers. Some of 'em +wasn't. She give 'em things before an she give 'em things after. Of +course, we went back an' we washed for 'em. But one mortal blessin. Ol' +miss had made her girls learn how to cook an' wait on themselves. + +Now take de Combinders. Dey was on de next plantation. Dey was mean. +Many a time you could hear de bull whip, clear over to our place, PLOP, +PLOP. An' if dey died, dey jest wrapped 'em in cloth an' dig a trench, +an' plow right over 'em. An' when de war was over, dey wouldn't turn dey +slaves loose. An de Federals marched in an' marched 'em off. An' ol' +Mis' Combinder she holler out an she say, 'What my girls goin' to do? +Dey ain't never dressed deyselves in dey life. We can't cook? What we +do?' An' de soldiers didn't pay no attention. Dey just marched 'em off. + +An' ol' man Combinder he lay down an' he have a chill an' he die. He die +because day take his property away from him. + +Yes, ma'am, Thank you for the quarter. I's goin' to buy snuff. I gets +along good. My grandson he hauls wood for de paper mill. An' my +granddaughters dey works for folks cooks an takes care of children. I +had a good crop dis year. I'll have meat, I got lots of corn, an' I got +other crops. We're gettin' along nice, mighty nice. Thank you ma'am." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Henry Walker, Hazen, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +I was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. The first I ever +knowed or heard of a war, I saw a lot of the funniest wagons coming up +to the house from the road. I called the old mistress. She looked out +the window and pushed me back up in the corner and shot the door. She +was so scared. I thought them things they had on their coats (buttons) +was pretty. I found out they was brass buttons. I peeped out a crack it +was already closed 'cept a big crack, I seed through. Well, the wagons +was high in front and high in the back and sunk in the middle. Had pens +in the wheels instead of axels. Wagon had a box instead of a bed. The +wagons would hold a crib full of corn. They loaded up everything on the +place there was to eat and carried it off. My folks and the other folks +was in the field. Colored folks didn't like 'em taking all they had to +eat and had stored up to live on. They didn't leave a hog nor a chicken, +nor anything else they could find. They drove off all the cows and +calves they could find. Colonel Sam Williams, the old master, soon did +go to war then. The folks had a hard time making a living. Old mistress +had four girls and her baby Ed was one day older than I was. The +children of the hands played around in the woods and every place and +stayed in the field if they was big enough to do any work. Old mistress +had all the children pick up scaley barks and hickory nuts and chestnuts +and walnuts. She put them in barrels. She sold some of them. She had a +heap of sugar maple trees. They put an elder funnel to run the sap in +buckets. We carried that and she boiled it down to brown sugar. She had +up pick up chips to burn when she simmered it down or made soap. She +kept all the children hunting ginsing up in the mountains. She kept it +in sacks. A man come by and buy it. We hunted chenqupins down in the +swamps. There was lots of walnut trees in the woods. + +No the slaves didn't leave Colonel Williams. He left them. He brought me +and Ed and we went back and moved to the old Williams farm on Arkansas +River close to Little Rock. Then he sent for my folks. They come in +wagons. They worked for him a long time and scattered about. I stayed at +his house till he said "Henry, you are grown; you better look out for +yourself now." Ed was gone. He sent all the girls off to school and Ed +too. They taught me if I wanted to learn but I didn't care much about +it. I went to the colored school and Ed to the white school. He learned +pretty well. I never did like to 'sociate or stay 'bout colored folks +and I didn't like to mind 'em. Old mistress show did brush me out +sometimes and they called my mother to tend to me. When I was real +little they drove the hands to the block to be sold out along the road. +Old mistress say: "If you don't be good and mind we'll send yare off and +sell you wid 'em." That scared me worse than a whooping. Never did see +anybody sold. Heard them talk a heap about it. When one of them wouldn't +work and lay out in the woods, or they wouldn't mind they soon got sold +off. They mated a heap of them and sold them for speculation. No mam I +didn't like slavery. We had plenty to eat but they worked for all they +got. Had good fires and good warm houses and good clothes but I did not +like the way they give out the provisions. They blowed a horn and +measured out the weeks paratta for every family. They cooked at the +cabins for their own families. There was several springs and a deep rock +walled well at old mistress' house. Old mistress always lived in a fine +house. I slept at my mother's house nearly all the time. She had a big +family. White folks raised me up to play with Ed till I thought I was +white. They taught me to do right and I ain't forgot it. I never was +arrested. I married three times, bought three marriage license all in +Prairie County. All three wives died. + +I owns dis house 'cept a mortgage of $50. One of my boys got in a +difficulty. I don't know where he is to get him to pay it off. The other +boy he's not man enough either to pay it off. + +I never did know jess when the Civil War did close. I kept hearing 'em +say we are free. I didn't see much difference only when Colonel Williams +come back times wasn't so hard. Then he sold out and come to Arkansas. +Then each family raised his own hogs and chickens and finally got to +have cows. + +I was as scared of the Ku Klux Klan as of rattlesnakes. In Tennessee +they come up the road and back just after dark. They rode all night and +if you wasn't on your master's own land and didn't have a pass from him +or the overseer they would set the dogs on you and run you home. +Sometimes they would whip them. Take them home to the old master. I +never heard of no uprisings. People loved each other better then than +now. They didn't have so much idle time. There was always some work to +be doing. When they didn't mind they run them with dogs and whipped +them. The overseer and paddyrollers seed about that. The first day of +the year everybody went up to hear the rules and see who was to be the +overseer. Then they knowed what to do for the year. They never did kill +nobody. No mam that was too costly. They had work according to their +strength and age. The Ku Klux was to keep order. + +I been living in Hazen forty or fifty years. All I ever have done was +farm sometimes one-half-for-the-other and sometimes on share-crop. + +I have voted but not lately. I votes a Republican ticket. I votes that +way because it was the Republicans that set us free, I always heard it +said. I jess belongs to that party. Seems lack we gets easier times when +the Democrats reign. Colonel Williams was a Democrat. + +The young folks are not as well off as I was at their age. They are +restless and won't work unless they gets big pay and they spends the +money too easy. The colored people are too idle and orderless. They +fight and hate one another and roam around in too much confusion. + +I gets from $3 to $8 last month from the Sociable Welfare. My children +helps me mighty little. They got their own children to see after and +don't make much. + +Colonel Williams and Ed are both dead. They did give me a lot of fine +clothes when I went to see them as long as they lived. I don't know +where the girls hab gone. Scattered around. I oughter never left my good +old home and white folks. They was show always mighty good to me. + +I never could sing much. I used to give the Rebbel Yell. Colonel Yopp +give me a dime every time I give it. Since he died I ain't yelled it no +more. I learned it from Colonel Williams. I jess took it up hearing him +about the place. + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson +Subject: Ex-Slave-Hunting +Story:--Information + +This information given by: Henry Walker +Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas +Occupation: Farmer. +Age: 78 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +Henry Walker was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. +Remembered the soldiers and ran to the windows to see them pass. One day +he saw a lot of soldiers coming to the house. Henry ran in ahead and +said out loud, "them Yankeys are coming up here." The mistress slapped +Henry, hid him and slammed the doors. The soldiers did not get in but +they did other damage that day. They took all the mules out of the lot +and drove them away. They filled their "dugout wagons" with corn. A +dugout wagon would hold nearly a crib full of corn. They were high in +front and back and came down to a point, nearly touched the ground +between the wheels. The wheels had pens instead of axles in them. + +The children ran like pigs every morning. The pigs ran to eat acorns and +the children--white and black--to pick up chestnuts, scaly barks and +hickory nuts. There were _lots_ of black walnuts. "We had barrels of +nuts to eat all winter and the mistress sold some every year at +Nashville, Tennessee. The woods were full of nut trees and we had a few +maple and sweet gum trees. We simmered down maple sap for brown sugar +and chewed the sweet gum. We picked up chips to simmer the sweet maple +sap down. We used elder tree wood to make faucets for syrup barrels. +There were chenquipins down in the swamps that the children gathered." + +Henry Walker said that they were sent upon the hills to find ginsing and +often found long beds of it. They put it in sacks and a man came and +bought it from the mistress. The mistress' name was Mrs. Williams. She +kept the money for the ginsing and nuts too when she sold them. + +Henry said he ate at Mrs. Williams', but the other children ate at the +cabin. On Saturday evening the horn would sound and every slave would +come to get his allowance of provisions. They used a big bell hung up in +a tree to call them to meals and to begin work. They could also hear +other farm bells and horns. Colored folks could have dances if they +would get permission. Some masters were overseers themselves and some +hired overseers. Patty Rell was a white man and the bush-wackers give us +trouble sometimes. + +On January first every year everybody ate peas and "hog jole" and +received the new rules. The masters would say, "don't be running up here +telling me on the overseer." They had a bush harbor church and the white +preacher came to preach to black and white sometimes. They taught +obedience and the Golden Rules. No schools--Henry said since freedom the +white men had cheated him out of all he had ever made, with pen-and-ink. +He rather be whipped with a stick than a writing pen. He said Mr. and +Mrs. Williams were good people. Henry learned to knit his socks and +gloves at night watching the grown people. They made a certain number of +broches every night. He liked that. + +Henry said Mr. Williams let him carry his gun hunting with him and +taught him how to shoot squirrels. They were plentiful. He had a lot of +dogs. The master went to the deer stand and Henry managed the twelve +hounds. He didn't like to fox hunt. About a hundred men and thirty dogs, +horns, etc. out for the chase. They came from Nashville and in the +country. A fox make three rounds from where he is jumped and then widens +out. They brought "fine whiskey" out on the chases. + +When they had corn shuckings one Negro would sit on the fence and lead +the singing, the others shuck on each side. The master would pour out a +tin cup full of whiskey from a big jug for each corn shucker, and Mrs. +Williams would give each a square of gingerbread. + +Mr. Williams set aside a certain number of acres of land every year to +be cleared, fenced and broke for cultivation by spring. Six or eight men +worked together. They used tong-hand sticks to carry the logs to the +piles where they were burning them. A saw was a side show, they used +mall, axe and wedge. After the log rolling there would be a big supper +and a good one. The visitors got what they wanted from the table first. +"That was manners." + +"We took turns going to the Methodist church at Nashville with Mr. and +Mrs. Williams. They went in the fine carriage and the maid held the baby +but anybody else rode along behind on horseback. The carriage horses +were curried every day, kept up and ate corn and fodder. Mr. and Mrs. +Williams came to Nashville to big weddings and dances often." + +After Henry Walker came to Hazen, Colonel Yopp had him feed his dogs and +attend him on big fox hunting trips. Since Colonel Yopp died January +1928 Henry seldom, or perhaps has never sung the song he sang to Colonel +for dimes if he needed a little change. He learned the song and whoop +back in in slavery days. He said William Dorch (colored boy) took it up +from hearing him sing for Colonel Yopp and would write it for me and +sing it and give it with the old Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee whoop. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Jake Walker + 3002 Short W. Ninth Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 95 + + +"Well, I was here--I was born in 1842, August the 4th. That makes me +ninety-five in the clear. If I live till next August I'll be ninety-six. + +"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas, I was born in Alabama. I been here +in Arkansas bout forty or fifty years. I used to live in Mississippi +when I first left the old country. + +"Oh yes'm, I was bout big enough to go durin' the War, but I wouldn't +run off. Couldn't a had no better master. That's the reason I'm livin' +like I do. Always took good care of myself. Never had no exposure. + +"I _did_ work fore the War, I'll say! Done anything they said. + +"John Carmichael was my old master and Miss Nancy was old missis. + +"Oh yes ma'am, I seed the Yankees. They stopped there. I wasn't askeered +of nobody. I have went to the well and drawed water for em. + +"I member when the War was gwine on. I didn't know why they was +fightin'. If I did I done forgot--I'll be honest with you. I didn't know +nothin' only they was fightin'. Most of my work was around the house. I +never paid no tention to that war. I was livin' too fine them days. I +was livin' a hundred days to the week. Yes ma'am, I did get along fine. + +"Oh yes ma'am, I had good white folks. I never was sold. No ma'am, I +born right on the old home place. + +"Patrollers? Had to get a pass from your master to go over there. Oh +yes, I know all about them. I have seed the Ku Klux too. Yes ma'am, I +know all about them things. + +"I never been to school but half a day. I went to work when I was eight +years old and been workin' ever since. + +"My father died in slave times and my mother died the fourth year after +surrender. + +"After freedom, I worked there bout the course of three or four years. +Then I emigrated and come on to Mississippi. The most I done them times +was farmin'. Reckon I stayed in Mississippi five or six years. + +"The most work I done here in Arkansas is carpenter work. I'm the first +colored man ever contracted in Pine Bluff. + +"If I wasn't able to work, I don't think I'd stay here long. + +"Used to drive the mule in the gin in slave times. + +"We didn't have a bit of expense on us. Our doctor bills was paid and +had clothes give to us and had plenty of something to eat. + +"Yes'm, I used to vote but it's been for years since I voted. Voted +Republican. I don't know why the colored people is Republican. You +askin' me something now I don't know nothin' about, but I believe in +votin' for the man goin' to do good--do the country good. + +"Oh, don't talk about the younger generation--I jist can't accomplish +em, I sure can't. They ain't got the 'regenious' and get-up about em +they had in my time. They is more wiser, that's about all. The young +race these days--I don't know what's gwine come of em. If twasn't for we +old fogies, don't know what they'd do. + +"We ain't never had that World War yet told about in the Bible. Called +this last war the World War but twasn't. + +"I've always tried to keep my place and I ain't never been in any kind +of trouble." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Jake Walker, Wheatley, Arkansas +Age: 68 + + +"I was born seven or eight miles from Hernando, Mississippi. My pa was a +slave over twenty years. He belong to Master Will Walker, and his white +mistress was Ann. They brought him from 'round Athens, Georgia. He was +heired through his master. His own mother died at his birth and he was +the son of a peddler through the country. He was a furriner but pa never +could tell. His young master never told him. His ma was the nurse about +the place. The peddler was a white man of some kind. He kept coming +about selling goods. The dogs made a bad racket. They never bought +nothing much. Old master suspicioned him trying to get away with +something about the place. He come right out and accused him to being up +to something. He denied it. He told the peddler not to come back. He +never. After it was over she told her mistress. He wanted her to go on +off with him. That made them mad. But he never was seen about there. + +"When Will Walker got married he wanted my pa and he was give to him, a +horse and buggy, two mules, a lamb, and five young cows. He had some +money and he come to Mississippi. I reckon he did buy some land. He got +to be a slave owner before freedom. Pa said he drove the horse to the +buggy and his master rode a mule, led a mule and brought his cows, and +they kept the lamb in the buggy with them nearly all the way. + +"I think they was good to him. His young mistress cried so much they all +went back once before freedom. They went on Christmas time. Only time he +ever was drunk. He got down and nearly froze to death. The white folks +heard he was somewhere down. They went and got him one Sunday morning in +a two-horse wagon. He was nearly dead. That was his first and last +spree. + +"Pa said he nursed three of his young mistress' babies, Alfred, Tom, and +Kenneth. + +"After freedom pa went to Texas with Alfred Walker. He owned a ranch out +on the desert and raised Texas ponies and big horn cows. They sent a +carload of young cattle to St. Louis and pa stopped back in Mississippi +and married ma. She was a Walker too, Libbie Walker. There was fourteen +of us children. They nearly all went to Louisiana to work in the timber. +I come to Clarendon. I been married three times. My last wife left me +and took my onliest child. Only child I ever had. They was at Hot +Springs last account I had of them. She was cooking for a woman over +there. My girl is up 'bout grown now. She come to Clarendon to see me +three years ago. I sent for her but she wouldn't stay. She writes to me, +but I have to get somebody to write for me and somebody to read her +letters. I can read print real good. I never went to school a day in my +whole life. We had to work early and late when I come up. + +"I farmed, sawmilled, worked in the timber. I do public work, haul wood, +cut wood, and work in the field by day labor. + +"I votes a Republican ticket. I haven't voted since Mr. Taft run. I +don't have no way to keep up with elections now. Folks used to talk +more, now they keeps quiet. + +"I never heard pa say how he come to know about freedom. Ma said she was +refugeed to Texas and when they brung them back, Master Will Walker met +them at the creek on his place and he said, 'You all are free now. You +can go on my place or hunt other places.' They went on his place and +they lived there a long time. I don't remember ever living on that +place. Pa wasn't there then. I don't know where be could been. Ma and pa +was both Walkers but no blood kin. Ma didn't talk much about old times. +She was sold once, she said. Bass Kelly bought her. I don't know if Will +Walker traded for her. She never did say. Bass Kelly was mean to her. He +beat her and one time she hid and kept hid till she nearly starved, she +said. She hid in the corn crib. It was a log house. She didn't enjoy +slavery. Pa had a very good time, better than us boys had it when we +come up. He worked and kept us with him. He and ma died the same week. +They had pneumonia in Mississippi. + +"I got one sister. She lives close to Shreveport. She keeps up with us +all. I go down there every now and then. She's not stove up like I am. +She wants me to stay with her all the time. I gets work down there +easier but I have the rheumatism bad down there. + +"I don't know what will become of young folks. I wish I had their +chance. They can't wait for nothing. They in too big a hurry for the +crop to grow. Busy living by the day. When the year gone they ain't no +better off. Times is good in places. Hard in places. Times better in +Louisiana than up here. Work easier to get. Folks got more living. + +"I'm chopping cotton on Mr. Hill's place. I gets ninety cents a day. I +can't get over the ground fast." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Willie Wallace + 40th and Georgia Streets, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was born in Green County, Alabama. Elihu Steele was my old master. +Miss Julia was old missis. She was Elihu's wife. Her mother's name was +Penny Hatter. Miss Penny give my mother to her daughter Julia. + +"I was a twin and they choosed us for the cook and washer and ironer, +but surrender come along 'fore we got big enough to do anything. + +"My father was crippled and couldn't work in the field, and I remember +he used to carry the children out to the field to be suckled. + +"They had a right smart of slaves. My mother had twelve children and I'm +the baby. + +"I remember they'd make up a big pot of corn bread and pot-liquor and +they'd say, 'Eat, chillun, eat.' + +"I remember one time the white folks had some stock tied out, and I know +my sister's little boy didn't know no better and he showed the Yankees +where they was. + +"I remember when they said the people was free, but our folks stayed +right on there--I don't know how many years--'cause my mother thought a +heap of her old missis, Penny. + +"I went to school after freedom and learned how to read and write and +figger. I worked in the field till I got disabled. I never did wash and +iron and cook for the white folks. + +"I was fifteen--somewhere in there--when I married and I'm the mother of +twelve children. + +"I have lived in Thomas, West Virginia; Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; +Cumberland, Maryland; Milliken, Louisiana; and Birmingham, Alabama. I +just lived in all them places following my children around. + +"I fell through a trestle in Birmingham and injured myself comin' from +church. + +"I think the people is gettin' terrible now. You think they're gettin' +better? I think they're gettin' wuss. + +"I got a book here called 'Uncle Tom' and I hates to read it sometimes +'cause the people suffered so. + +"I don't think old master had any overseers. Miss Julia wouldn't 'low +any of her people to be beat." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Evans Warrior + 609 E. 23rd Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was born here in Arkansas in Dallas County. I don't know zackly what +year but I was bout five when they drove us to Texas. Stayed there three +years till the war ceasted. + +"Old master's name was Nat Smith. He was good to me. I was big enough to +plow same year the war ceasted. + +"Yankees come through Texas after peace was 'clared. They'd come by and +ask my mother for bread. She was the cook. + +"We left Arkansas 'fore the war got busy. Everything was pretty ragged +after we got back. White folks was here but colored folks was scattered. +My folks come back and went to their native home in Dallas County. + +"Never did nothin' but farm work. Worked on the shares till I got able +to rent. Paid five or six dollars a acre. Made some money. + +"I heered of the Ku Klux. Some of em come through the Clemmons place and +put notice on the doors. Say VACATE. All the women folks got in one +house. Then the boss man come down and say there wasn't nothin' to it. +Boss man didn't want em there. + +"I went to school a little. Kep' me in the field all the tims. Didn't +get fur enuf to read and write. + +"Yes'm, I voted. Voted the Republican ticket. That's what they give me +to vote. I couldn't read so I'd tell em who I wanted to vote for and +they'd put it down. Some of my friends was justice of the peace and +constables. + +"I been in Pine Bluff bout four years--till I got disabled to work. + +"I been married five times. All dead but two. Don't know how many +chillun we had--have to go back and study over it. + +"Some of the younger generation is out of reason. Ain't strict on +chillun now like the old folks was." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Anna Washington, Clarendon, Arkansas + (Back of Mrs. Maynard's home in the alley) +Age: 77 + + +"I've forgot who my mother's owner was. She was born in Virginia. She +was put on a block and sold. She was fifteen years old and she never +seen her mother again after she left her. Her master was George +Birdsong. He bought my papa too. They was onliest two he owned. He +wanted them both light so the children would be light for house girls +and waiting boys. Light colored folks sold for more money on the block. + +"The boss man over grandpa and grandma in Virginia was John Glover. But +he was not their owner. My grandpa was about white. He said his owners +was good to him but now grandma had a pided back where she had been +whooped. Grandpa come down from the Washington slaves so my papa said. +That is the reason I holds to his name and my boy holds to it. Papa said +he had to plough and clean up new ground for Master Birdsong. He was a +young man starting out and papa and mama was young too. + +(She left and came back with some old scraps of yellow and torn papers +dimly written all over: Anna Washington, born 1860 at Hines County at +Big Rock. Mother born at Capier County. Father born at White County, +Virginia--ed.) + +"This is what was told to me by my papa: His grandmother was born of +George Washington's housemaid. That was one hundred forty years ago. His +papa was educated under a fine mechanic and he help build the old +State-house at Washington. Major Rousy Paten was the Washington nigger +'ministrator. + +"I had a sister named Martha Curtis after his young wife. I had a +brother named Housy Patton. They are both dead now. Pa lived to be +ninety-eight years old. My mama was as white as you is but she was a +nigger woman. Pa was lighter than I is now. I'm getting darker 'cause +I'm getting old. My pa was named Benjamin Washington. + +"I heard my pa talk about Nat Turner. (She knew who he was o.k.--ed.) He +got up a rebellion of black folk back in Virginia. I heard my pa sit and +tell about him. Moses Kinnel was a rich white man wouldn't sell Nellie +'cause of what his wife said. She was a housemaid. He wrote own free +pass book and took her to Maryland. Father's father wanted to buy Nellie +but her owner wouldn't sell her. He took her. + +"My mother had fourteen children. We and Archie was the youngest. + +"Moses Kinnel was a rich white man and had lots of servants. He promised +never to sell Nellie and keep her to raise his white children. She was +his maid. He promised that her dying bed. But father's father stole her +and took her to Maryland. + +"Pa run away and was sold twice or more. When he was small chile his +mother done fine washing. She seat him to go fetch her some fine laundry +soap what they bought in the towns. Two white men in a two-wheel open +buggy say, 'Hey, don't you want to ride?' 'I ain't got time.' 'Get in +buggy, we'll take you a little piece.' One jumped out and tied his hands +together. They sold him. They let him go to nigger traders. They had him +at a doctor's examining his fine head see what he could stand. The +doctor say, 'He is a fine man. Could trust him with silver and gold--his +weight in it.' They brung him to Mississippi and sold him for a big +price. He had these papers the doctor wrote on him to show. + +"Then he sent for my mama after they sat him free. His name was Ben +Washington. + +"He never spoke much of freedom. He said his master in Mississippi told +them and had them sign up contracts to finish that year's crop. He took +back his old Virginia name and I don't recollect that master's name. +Heard it too. Yes ma'am, heap er times. My recollection is purty nigh +gone. + +"I don't get no younger in feelings 'cause I'm getting old." + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: S.S. Taylor +Subject: Slave memories--Birth, Mother, Father, Separation House +Subject: Slaves--Dwellings, Food, Clothes +Subject: Corn Shucking, Dances, Quiltings, Weddings among Slaves +Subject: Slaves--Fight with Master (junior); Slave uprisings +Subject: Confederate Army Negroes; Ex-slave Occupations +Story:--Information +[TR: Topics moved from subsequent pages.] + +This information given by: Eliza Washington +Place of Residence: 1517 West Seventeenth + Little Rock, Arkansas +Occupation: Washing and Ironing (When able) +Age: About 77 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +The first thing I remember was living with my mother about six miles +from Scott's Crossing in Arkansas, about the year 1866. I know it was +1866 because it was the year after the surrender, and we know the +surrender was in 1865. I know the dates after 1866. You don't know +nothin' when you don't know dates. If you get up in court and say +somethin', the lawyers ask you when it happened and then they ask you +where did it happen, and if you can't tell them, they say "Witness is +excused. You don't know nothin'." + + +Mother and Father + +My mother was born in North Carolina in Mecklinberg in Henderson County. +I don't know when she came to Arkansas, and I don't know when she went +to Tennessee. + +My father was born in Tennessee. I don't know the county like I did in +North Carolina. I don't know the town either, but I think it was in the +rurals somewhere. The white folks separated my mother and father when I +was a little baby in their arms. The people to whom my father belonged +stayed in Tennessee, but my mother's people came to Arkansas. It must +have been along in the time of the war that they come to Arkansas. + + +Dwelling + +My mother lived in a log house chinked with wood chinks. The chinks +looked like gluts. You know what a glut is? No? Well a glut looks like +the pattern of a shoe. They lay the logs together, and then chink up the +cracks with wood blocks made up like the pattern of a shoe. These were +chinks, wooden things about a foot long, shaped like a wedge. They were +used for chinking. After the logs were laid together, chinks would be +needed to stop up the holes between the logs. After the chinking was +finished, clay was stuffed in to stop up the cracks and make the house +warm. I've seen a many a one built. + +Wide planks were used for the floors. The doors were hung on wooden +hinges. The doors were never locked. They didn't have any looks on them. +You could bar them on the inside if you wanted to. They didn't have no +fear of burglars in them days. People wasn't bad then as they is now. +They had just one window and one door in the house. The chimney was +built up like a ladder and clay and straw was stuffed in the framework. + +I have seen such houses built right down here in Scott's. My mother was +a field hand. She lived in such a house in Tennessee. There wasn't no +brick about the house, not even in the chimney. In later years, they +have covered up all those logs with weather boards and made the houses +look like what they call "modern", but theyr'e the same old log houses. + + +Food + +My mother said her white folks fed her well. She had whatever they had. +When she came to Arkansas, they issued rations, but she never was issued +rations before. When they issued rations, they gave them so much food +each week--so much corn meal, so much potatoes, so much cabbage, so much +molasses, so much meat--mostly rubbish-like food. We went out in the +garden and dug the potatoes and got the cabbage. + +But in Tennessee, my mother got what ever she wanted whenever she wanted +it. If she wanted salt, she went and got it. If she wanted meat, she +went to the smokehouse and got it. Whatever she wanted, she went and got +it, and they didn't have no times for issuing out. + + +Social Affairs--Corn Shuckings, Quiltings and Dances + +The biggest time I remember on the plantations was corn shucking time. +Plenty of corn was brought in from the cribs and strowed along where +everybody could get to it freely. Then they would all get corn and shuck +it until near time to quit. The corn shucking was always at night, and +only as much corn as they thought would be shucked was brought from the +cribs. Just before they got through, they would begin to sing. Some of +the songs were pitiful and sad. I can't remember any of them, but I can +remember that they were sad. One of them began like this: + + "The speculator bought my wife and child + And carried her clear away." + +When they got through shucking, they would hunt up the boss. He would +run away and hide just before. If they found him, two big men would take +him up on their shoulders and carry him all around the grounds while +they sang. My mother told me that they used to do it that way in slave +time. + + +Dances + +They didn't dance then like they do now all hugged up and indecent. In +them days, they danced what you call square dances. They don't do those +dances now, they're too decent. There were eight on a set. I used to +dance those myself. + + +Quiltings + +I heard mother say she went to a lot of quiltings. I suppose they had +them much the same as they do now. Everybody took a part of the quilt to +finish. They talked and sang and had a good time. And they had somethin' +to eat at the close just as they did in the corn shucking. I never went +to a quilting. + + +Worship + +Some of the Niggers went to church then just as they do now, and some of +them weren't allowed to go. + +Reverend Winfield used to preach to the colored people that if they +would be good niggers and not steal their master's eggs and chickens and +things, that they might go to the kitchen of heaven when they died. + +An old lady once said to me, "I would give anything if I could have +Maria in heaven with me to do little things for me." My mother told me +that the niggers had to turn the pots down to keep their voices from +sounding when they were praying at night. And they couldn't sing at all. + + +Weddings + +I can remember that they used to have weddings when I was a child around +the years 1867 and 1868. My mother told me of marriages and weddings. +She never saw no paint on anybody's face. They used to have powder, but +they never used any paint. Girls were better then than they are now. + + +Fight with Master + +My mother's first master was named Rasly, and her second was named +Neely. She and her young master, John McNeely, who was raised with her +and who was about the same age as she was, got to fighting one day and +she whipped him clear as a whistle. After she whipped him that fight +went all over the country. She was between sixteen and seventeen years +old an he was about the same. She had never been whipped by the white +folks. + +She was in the kitchen. I don't know what the trouble started over. But +they had an argument. There were some other white boys in the kitchen +with her young master, and they kept pushing the two of them up to +fight. He wanted to show off; so he told her what he would do to her if +she didn't hush her mouth. She told him to just try it, and the fight +was on. So they fought for about an hour, and the other white boys egged +them on. + +She said that her old master never did whip her, and she sure wasn't +going to let the young one do it. I never heard that they punished her +for whipping her young master. I never heard her say that anybody tried +to whip her at any other time. My mother was a strong woman. She could +lift one end of a log with any man. + + +Slave Uprisings + +My mother used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, (That +was about the time that the stars fell, and the stars fell in 1833 +[HW:*]. So she must have been born in 1819. In 1833, she was sold for a +fourteen year old girl. That was the only time that she ever was sold. +That left her about eighty-three years old when she died in 1903.) She +used to say that when she was about fourteen years old, and was living +in North Carolina in Mecklinburg Co, in Henderson County, that the white +folks called all the slaves up to the big house and kept them there a +few days. There wasn't no trouble on my mother's place, but they had +heard that there was an uprising among the slaves, and they called all +the Niggers up to the house. They didn't do nothin' to them. They just +called them up to the house, and kept them there. It all passed over +soon. I don't know nothin' else about it. + + +Confederate Army Negroes + +I've "heered" old Brother Zachary who used to belong to Bethel Church +tell about the surrender. Brother Zachary is dead now. He was a soldier +In the Confederate army. He fought all through the war and he used to +tell lots of stories about it. + +You know, Lee was a tall man, fine looking and dignified. Grant was a +little man and short. Those two generals walked up to each other with a +white flag in their hands. And they talked and agreed just when they +would fight. And then they both went back to their armies, and they +fought the awfulest battle you ever "heered" of. The men lay dead in +rows and rows and rows. The dead men covered whole fields. And General +Lee said that there wasn't any use doing any more fighting. General +Grant let all the rebels keep their guns. He didn't take nothin' away +from them. + +I saw General Grant when he came to Little Rock. There was an old white +man who had never been to Little Rock in his life. He said "I just had +to come up here to see this great general that they are talking about." + + +Occupations + +We always worked in the field in slave time. I don't know nothin about +share cropping because I always did days work. I used to get four and +five dollars a week for washing. But now they wants the young folks and +they don't pay them five dollars for everything. I can't get a pension. +Why you reckon they won't give me one. They don't understand that that +little house I own doesn't even keep itself up. My daughter-in-law is +good to me but she needs everything she makes. I can't get much to do +now, and what little I gets, they don't pay me much for. + +I don' remember nothin' else. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Jennie Washington, DeValls Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"My mother was a slave and my father too I recken. They belonged to Jack +Walton when I remembered. I was born at St. Charles. My mother died in +time of the war at St. Louis. This is whut I remembers. My mother was +sold twice. The Prices owned her and the Wakefields owned her before she +was owned by old Jack Walton. I was the youngest child. I had one +brother went to war and he drawed a pension long as he lived. We +children all got scattered out. Mr. Walton bout the age of my father and +he said some day all these niggers be set free and warnt long fore they +sho was. I had one older sister I recollect mighty well. My mother named +Fannie, my father named Abe Walton. He had a young master James Walton. + +"When I was nuthin but a chile I remembers James dressed up like Ku Klux +Klan and scared me. The old master sho did whoop him bout that. They +take care of the little black children and feed em good an don't let em +do too hard er work to stunt em so they take em off and sell em for a +good price. + +"I remembers the little old log house my granma and granpa way back over +on the place stayed in till they died. We went back after the war and +lived ten years on the same place. We lived close to the white folks in +a bigger house. + +"I don't recollect no big change after freedom cept they quit selling +and working folks without giving them money. I was too small to notice +much change then I speck. Times has always been tight wid me. I ain't +never had very much. I did work an a livin is all I ever got out of it. +Never could make enough to get ahead. + +"The white folks never give the darky nothing when freedom declared. We +used to raise tobacco and sell it to smoke and make snuff. And he had em +make ax handles to sell on the side for money till the crops gathered. + +"If you believe in the Bible you won't believe in women votin' I never +did vote. I ain't goner never vote. + +"The present condition is fine. Mrs. Robinson carries a great big truck +load to her farm every day to pick cotton. She sent word up here she +take anybody whut wanter work. I wish I was able to go. I loves to pick +cotton. She pay em seventy-five cents a hundred. She'll pay em too! I +don't know what they do this winter. Set by the fire I recken. But next +spring she'll let hoe that crop. She took em this past year to hoe out +that very cotton they pickin now. Her husband, he's sick. He keeps their +store up town. She takes a few white hands too if they wanter work. I +don't think the present generation no worse en they ever been. They +drawed up closer together than they used to be. They buys everything now +an they don't raise nuthin. It's the Bible fulfillin. Everything so high +they caint save nuthin! + +"I married twice. First time in the church, other time at home. I had +four children. I had two in Detroit. I don't know where my son is. He +may be there yet. My daughter there got fourteen children her own. I +don't know where the others are. Nom [HW: long "o" diacritical] they +don't help me a bit, do well helpin theirselves. I gets the Welfare +sistance and I works my garden back here." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Parrish Washington + 812 Spruce Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 86 + + +"I was born in 1852--born in Arkansas. Sam Warren was my old master. + +"I remember some of the Rebel generals--General Price and General +Marmaduke. + +"We had started to Texas but the Yankees got in ahead of us in the +Saline bottoms and we couldn't go no further. + +"My boss had so much faith in his own folks he wouldn't leave here 'til +it was too late. He left home on Saturday night and got into the bottoms +on Sunday and made camp. Then the Yankees got in ahead of him and he +couldn't go no further, so we come back to Jefferson County. + +"The Yankees had done took Little Rock and come down to Pine Bluff. + +"My father died in 1860 and my mother in 1865. + +"I can remember when they whipped the slaves. Never whipped me +though--they was just trainin' me up. + +"Had an old lady on the place cooked for the children and we just got +what we could. + +"I remember when peace was declared, the people shouted and rejoiced--a +heavy load had fell off. + +"All the old hands stayed on the place. I stayed there with my uncle and +aunt. We was treated better then. I was about 25 years old when I left +there. + +"I farmed 'til '87. Then I joined the Conference and preached nearly +forty years when I was superannuated. + +"I remember when the Rebels was camped up there on my boss's place. I +used to love to see the soldiers. Used to see the horses hitched to the +artillery. + +"Two or three of Sam Warren's hands run off and joined the Yankees. They +didn't know what it was goin' to be and two of 'em come back--stayed +there too. + +"I used to vote the Republican ticket. I was justice of the peace four +years--two terms. + +"I went to school here in Pine Bluff about two or three terms and I was +school director in district number two about six or seven years. + +"I have great hope for the young people of the future. 'Course some of +'em are not worth killin' but the better class--I think there is a +bright future for 'em. + +"But for the world in general, if they don't change they goin' to the +devil. But God always goin' to have some good people in reserve 'til the +Judgment." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Caroline Watson + 517 E. 21st Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was born in '55 in March on the 13th on Sunday morning in time for +breakfast. I was born in Mississippi. I never will forget my white +folks. Oh, I was raised good. I had good white folks. Wish I could see +some of em now. + +"Well, I specs I do remember when the war started. I member when twas +goin' on. Oh Lord, I member all bout it. Old mistress' name was Miss +Ellen Shird. + +"Oh the Yankees used to come around. I can see us chillun sittin' on the +gallery watchin' em. I disremember what color uniform they had on, but I +seen a heap of em. + +"My old master, I can see him now--old Joe Shird. Just as good as they +could be. + +"I should say I do remember when they surrendered. I know everybody was +joyous. But they done better fore surrender than they did +afterwards--that is them that had to go off to themselves. + +"I was always so fast tryin' to work I wasn't studyin' bout no books, +but I went to school after surrender. My father and mother was smart old +folks and made us work. + +"I just been married once. I did pretty well. I like to been married +since he's dead but I seen so many didn't do so well. I has four sons +and one daughter. My son made me quit workin'. They gets me anything I +want. I got a religion that will do to die with. I done give up +everything. + +"Younger generation? What we goin' do with em? They ought to be sent off +some place and put to work. They just gone to the dogs. The Lord have +mercy. My heart just aches and moans and groans for em." + + + + +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--Mary Watson, 1500 Cross Street, Little +Rock. + +2. Date and time of interview-- + +3. Place of interview--1500 Cross Street, Little Rock. + +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-- + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.-- + + +Personal History of Informant + +1. Ancestry--father, Abram McCoy; mother, Louise McCoy. + +2. Place and date of birth--Mississippi. No date. + +3. Family-- + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Lived in Mississippi until 1891 then +moved to Arkansas. + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates-- + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview--This person tells very little of +life, but tells of her parents. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"My mother and father were McCoys. His name was Abram and her name was +Louise. My mother died right here when Brewer was Pastor of Wesley. You +ought to remember her. My mother died in 1928. My father died in 1897 +when Joe Sherrill was pastor. Joe Sherrill went to Africa, you know. He +was a missionary. + +"My mother was owned by Bill Mitchell. He came from Alabama. I can't +call the name of the town, just now. Yes, I can; it was Tuscaloosa. My +father came from South Carolina. McCoy was his owner. But how come him +to leave South Carolina he was sold after his master died and the +property was divided. He was sold away from his family. He had a large +family--about nine children. My mother was sold away from her mother +too. She was little and couldn't help herself. My grandma didn't want to +come. And she managed not to; I don't know how she managed it. + +"Before freedom my father was a farmer. My mother was a farmer too. My +mother wasn't so badly treated. She was a slave but she worked right +along with the white children. She had two brothers. The other sister +stayed with her mother. She was sold--my mother's mother. But I don't +know to whom. + +"My father was a preacher. He could word any hymn. How could he do it, I +don't know. On his Sunday, when the circuit rider wasn't there, he would +have me read the Bible to him and then he could get up and tell it to +the people. I don't know how he managed it. He didn't know how to read. +But he had a wonderful memory. He always had his exhorting license +renewed and he exhorted the people both Methodists and Baptists. After +freedom, when I went to school I knew and always helped him. + +"My father voted on the election days all the time. Be was a Republican, +and he rallied to them all the time. Before the war, my father farmed. +He commenced in the early fall hauling the cotton from Abbeville, South +Carolina to Augusta, Georgia. That was his business--teamster, hauling +cotton. He never did talk like his owners were so mean to him. Of +course, they weren't mean. When her master died and the property had to +be sold, his master bought her and her babies. + +"My father met my mother before the war started. Colored people were +scarce in the locality where she lived. These white people saw my father +and liked him. And they encouraged her to marry him. She was only +seventeen. My father was much older. He remembered the dark day in May +and when the stars fell. + +"He didn't show his age much though till he came to Little Rock. He had +been used to farming and city life didn't agree with him. He left about +seven years after coming here. + +"My father and mother met and married in Mississippi. He came from South +Carolina and she came from Alabama. They had nine children. All of them +were born after the war. I am the oldest. Lee McCoy is my youngest +brother. You know him, I'm sure. He is the president of Rust College. I +was born right after the war. Don't put me down as no ex-slave. I was +born right after the war. + +"Right after the war, my father farmed in Mississippi. He took a notion +to come to Arkansas in 1891. He brought his whole family with him. And I +have been out here ever since. + +"I never saw any slave houses. I wasn't a slave. I have been to the +place where my mother was raised. I was teaching school near there and +just wanted to see. After her master died, Sam McCallister, his cousin, +took the slave children and was their guardian. Years later it come up +in court and they took all his land. Bill Mitchell was her first master. +He died during slave time. McCallister was made administrator of the +estate. He was made guardian of all the children too. He was made +guardian of the white children and of the colored children. He raised +them all. There was Ma and her auntie and three or four children of her +auntie's. Later on, way after the war, there was a lawsuit. I was grown +then. The courts made him pay the white children their share as far as +he was able. Of course, the colored children got nothing because they +were slaves when he took them. + +"I don't know nothing about the Ku Klux Klan bothering my family. I +don't remember anything except that I hear them talking about the Ku +Klux and the Pateroles. I wasn't here. + +"Don't put me down as an ex-slave. I am not an ex-slave. I was born +after the war. I don't know nothing about slavery except what I heard +others say. I expect I have talked too much anyway." + + +Extra Comment + +The constant reiteration of the phrase, "I'm not an ex-slave" roused my +curiosity and drove me to a superficial investigation. Persons who are +acquainted with her and her family estimate that Mary Watson is nearer +eighty than seventy. She started her story pleasantly enough. But when +she got the obsession that she would be put down as an ex-slave, she +refused to tell more. + +There is one thing not to be overlooked. Mary Watson has a mind that is +still keen. She tells what she wants to tell, and she doesn't state a +thing that she does not want to state. The hidden facts are to be +discerned only by subtle inference. This trait interested me, for her +younger brother, mentioned in the story, is a distinguished character, +President of Rust College, Holly Springs, Mississippi, and known to be +experienced and efficient in his work. Whatever she may have reserved or +stated, in reading her story, we are reading at least a sidelight on a +family of which some of the members have done some fine work within the +race. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Bart Wayne, Helena, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I was born at Holly Springs in 1866. It was in the springtime. Ma said +I was born two years after the surrender. Ma was named Mary and pa +Dan--Dan Wayne. They never was sold. In 1912 Dr. Leard was living in a +big fine house at Sardia, Mississippi. He was our last owner. Mallard +Jones owned them too. Pa didn't have no name. He was called for his +owners. I don't know if he named hisself Dan Wayne or not. The way I +think it was, Mr. Jones give Dr. Leard's wife them. He give her a big +plantation. I knowed Dr. Leard my own self all my life. I'd go to see +him. + +"The present times is hard. I get ten dollars a month. I don't know what +to say about folks now--none of them." + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella Anderson +Person Interviewed: Annie Mae Weathers + East Bone Street + El Dorado, Ark. +Age: ? + + +"I was born bout the second year after surrender right down here at +Caledonia. Now the white folks that ma and pa and me belonged to was +named Fords. We farmed all the time. The reason we farmed all the time +was because that was all for us to do. You see there wasn't nothin' else +for us to do. There wasn't no schools in my young days to do no good, +and this time of year we was plowin' to beat the band and us always +planted corn in February and in April our corn was. + +"We fixed our ground early and planted early and we had good crops of +everything. We went to bed early and rose early. We had a little song +that went like this: + + Early to bed and early to rise + Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise. + + and + + The early bird catches the worm. + +Cooked breakfast every morning by a pine torch. + +"I member hearin' my pa say that when somebody come and hollowed: 'Yer +niggers is free at last' say he just dropped his hoe and said in a queer +voice: 'Thank God for that.' It made old miss and old moss so sick till +they stopped eating a week. Pa said old moss and old miss looked like +their stomach and guts had a law suit and their navel was called in for +a witness, they was so sorry we was free. + +"After I got a good big girl I was hired out for my clothes and +something to eat. My dresses was made out of cotton stripes and my +chemise was made out of flannelette and my under pants was made out of +homespun. + +"Our games was 'Honey, honey Bee,' 'Ball I can't Yall,' and a nother one +of our games was 'Old Lady Hypocrit.'" + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Cora Weathers + 818 Chester Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I have been right on this spot for sixty-three years. I married when I +was sixteen and he brought me here and put me down and I have been here +ever since. No, I don't mean he deserted me; I mean he put me on this +spot of ground. Of course, I have been away on a visit but I haven't +been nowheres else to live. + +"When I came here, there was only three houses--George Winstead lived on +Chester and Eighth Street; Dave Davis lived on Ninth and Ringo; and +George Gray lived on Chester and Eighth. Rena Lee lived next to where +old man Paterson stays now, 906 Chester. Rena Thompson lived on Chester +and Tenth. The old people that used to live here is mostly dead or moved +up North. + +"On Seventh and Ringo there was a little store. It was the only store +this side of Main Street. There was a little old house where Coffin's +Drug Store is now. The branch ran across there. Old man John Peyton had +a nursery in a little log house. You couldn't see it for the trees. He +kept a nursery for flowers. On the next corner, old man Sinclair lived. +That is the southeast corner of Ninth and Broadway. Next to him was the +Hall of the Sons of Ham. + +"That was the first place I went to school. Lottie Stephens, Robert +Lacy, and Gus Richmond were the teacher. Hollins was the principal. That +was in the Sons of Ham's Hall. + +"I was born in Dallas County, Arkansas. It must have been 'long 'bout in +eighty-fifty-nine, 'cause I was sixteen years old when I come here and I +been here sixty-three years. + +"During the War, I was quite small. My mother brought me here after the +War and I went to school for a while. Mother had a large family. So I +never got to go to school but three months at a time and only got one +dollar and twenty-five cents a week wages when I was working. My father +drove a wagon and hoed cotton. Mother kept house. She had--lemme +see--one, two, three, four--eight of us, but the youngest brother was +born here. + +"My mother's name was Millie Stokes. My mother's name before she was +married was--I don't know what. My father's name was William Stokes. My +father said he was born in Maryland. I met Richard Weathers here and +married him sixty-three years ago. I had six children, three girls and +three boys. Children make you smart and industrious--make you think and +make you get about. + +"I've heard talk of the pateroles; they used to whip the slaves that was +out without passes, but none of them never bothered us. I don't remember +anything myself, because I was too small. I heard of the Ku Klux too; +they never bothered my people none. They scared the niggers at night. I +never saw none of them. I can't remember how freedom came. First I +knowed, I was free. + +"People in them days didn't know as much as the young people do now. But +they thought more. Young people nowadays don't think. Some of them will +do pretty well, but some of them ain't goin' to do nothin'. They are +gittin' worse and worser. I don't know what is goin' to become of them. +They been dependin' on the white folks all along, but the white folks +ain't sayin' much now. My people don't seem to want nothin'. The +majority of them just want to dress and run up and down the streets and +play cards and policy and drink and dance. It is nice to have a good +time but there is something else to be thought of. But if one tries to +do somethin', the rest tries to pull him down. The more education they +get, the worse they are--that is, some of them." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ishe Webb + 1610 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 78, or more + + +"I was born October 14. That was in slavery time. The record is burnt +up. I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. My father's master was a Webb. His +first name was Huel. My father was named after him. I came here in 1874, +and I was a boy eleven or twelve years old then. + +"My father was sold to another man for seventeen hundred dollars. My +mother was sold for twenty hundred. I have heard them say that so much +that I never will forget it. Webb sold my father and bought him back. My +mother's folks were Calverts. The Calverts and the Webbs owned adjoining +plantations. + +"My grandmother on my mother's side was a Calvert too. Her first name +was Joanna. I think my father's parents got beat to death in slavery. +Grandfather on my mother's side was tied to a stump and whipped to +death. He was double jointed and no two men could whip him. They wanted +to whip him because he wouldn't work. That was what they would whip any +one for. They would run off before they would work. Stay in the woods +all night. + +"My Grandma Calvert was buried over here in Galloway on the Rock Island +road on the John Eynes plantation. + +"My folks' masters were all right. But them nigger drivers were bad, +just like the county farm. A man sitting in the house and putting you +over a lot of men, you gwinter go up high as you want to. + +"My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a weaver. There was a lot +of those slavery folks 'round the house, and they tell me they didn't +work them till they were twenty-one, they put them in the field when +they were twenty-two. If you didn't work they would beat you to death. +My father killed his overseer and went on off to the War. + +"The pateroles used to drive and whip them. They would catch the slaves +off without a pass and whip them and then make the boss pay for them +when they took them back. I never seen the pateroles but I have seen the +Ku Klux and they were the same thing. + +"The jayhawkers would catch you when the pateroles didn't. They would +carry you to the pateroles and get pay for you, and the pateroles would +turn you over to the owners. You had to have a pass. If you didn't the +pateroles would catch you and wear you out, keep you till the next +morning, and then send you home by the jayhawkers. They didn't call them +that though, they called them bushwhackers. + +"The Ku Klux came after the War. They was the same thing as the +pateroles--they come out from them. I know where the Ku Klux home is +over here on Eighteenth and Broadway. That is where they broke up. It +ain't never been open since. (Not correct--ed.) + +"I saw the Yankees come in the yard on the Webb place. That was in the +time of the War. The old man got on his horse and flew. The Yankees went +in the smokehouse, broke it open, got all the meat they wanted. They +didn't pay you nothing in slavery time. But what meat the Yankees didn't +take for themselves, they give to the niggers. + +"My folks never got anything for their work that I know of. I heard my +mother say that nobody got paid for their work. I don't know whether +they had a chance to make anything on the side or not. + +"The Yankees, when they come in the yard that morning, told my father he +was free. I remember that myself. They come up riding horses and +carryin' long old guns with bayonets on them, and told him. They rode +all over the country from one place to another telling the niggers they +were free. Master didn't get a chance to tell us because he left when he +saw them comin'. + +"When my mother and father were living on the plantation, they lived in +an old frame building. A portion of it was log. My father stayed with +the Calverts--his wife's white folks. At first old man Webb sold him to +them; then he bought him back and bought my mother too. They were +together when freedom came. You know they auctioned you off in slavery +time. Every year, they would, they put you up on the auction block and +buy and sell. That was down in Georgia. We was in Georgia when we was +freed--in Atlanta. My father and mother had fourteen children +altogether. My mother died the year after we came out here. That would +be about 1875. I never had but three children because my wife died +early. Two of them are dead. + +"Right after freedom, my father plaited baskets and mats. He shucked +mops, put handles on rakes and did things like that in addition to his +farming. He was a blacksmith all the time too. He used to plait collars +for mules. He farmed and got his harvests in season. The other things +would be a help to him between times. + +"My father came here because he thought that there was a better +situation here than in Georgia. Of course, the living was better there +because they had plenty of fruit. Then he worked on a third and fourth. +He got one bale of cotton out of every three he made. The slaves left +many a plantation and they would grow up in weeds. When a man would +clear up the ground like this and plant it down in something, he would +get all he planted on it. That was in addition to the ground that he +would contract to plant. He used to plant rice, peas, potatoes, corn, +and anything else he wanted too. It was all his'n so long as it was on +extra ground he cleared up. + +"But they said, 'Cotton grows as high as a man in Arkansas.' Then they +paid a man two dollars fifty cents for picking cotton here in Arkansas +while they just paid about forty cents in Georgia. So my father came +here. Times was good when we come here. The old man cleared five bales +of cotton for himself his first year, and he raised his own corn. He +bought a pony and a cow and a breeding hog out of the first year's +money. He died about thirty-five years ago. + +"When I was coming along I did public work after I became a grown man. +First year I made crops with him and cleared two bales for myself at +twelve and a half cents a pound. The second year I hired out by the +month at forty-five dollars per month and board. I had to buy my clothes +of course. After seven years I went to doing work as a millwright here +in Arkansas. I stayed at that eighteen months. Then I steamboated. + +"We had a captain on that steamboat that never called any man by his +name. We rolled cotton down the hill to the boat and loaded it on, and +if you weren't a good man, that cotton got wet. I never wetted my +cotton. But jus' the same, I heard what the others heard. One day after +we had finished loading, I thought I'd tell him something. The men +advised me not to. He was a rough man, and he carried a gun in his +pocket and a gun in his shirt. I walked up to him and said, 'Captain, I +don't know what your name is, but I know you's a white man. I'm a +nigger, but I got a name jus' like you have. My name's Webb. If you call +Webb, I'll come jus' as quick as I will for any other name and a lot +more willing. If you don't want to say Webb, you can jus' say "Let's +go," and you'll find me right there.' He looked at me a moment, and then +he said, 'Where you from?' I said, 'I'm from Georgia, but I came on this +boat from Little Hock.' He put his arm around my shoulder and said, +'Come on upstairs.' We had two or three drinks upstairs, and he said, +'You and your pardner are the only two men I have that is worth a damn.' +Then he said, 'But you are right; you have a name, and you have a right +to be called by it.' And from then on, he quit callin' us out of our +names. + +"But I only stayed on the boat six months. It wasn't because of the +captain. Them niggers was bad. They gambled all the time, and I gambled +with them. But they wouldn't stop at that. They would argue and fight +and cut and shoot. A man would shoot a man down, and then kick him off +into the river. Then when there was roll call, nobody would know what +became of him. I didn't like that. I knew that I was goin' to kill +somebody if I stayed on that boat 'cause I didn't intend for nobody to +kill me. So I stopped. + +"After that, I went back to the man that I worked for the month for and +stayed with him till I married. I took care of the stock. I was only +married once. My wife died the fourteenth of October. We had three +children, and I have one daughter living. + +"I have voted often. I never had no trouble. I am a colored man and I +ain't got nothin' but my character, but I take care of that. I let them +know I am in Arkansas. I ain't been out of Arkansas but to Memphis and +Vicksburg, and I took them trips on the boat I was working on. I was a +good man then. + +"I can't say nothing about these wild-headed young people. They ain't +got no sense. Take God to handle them. + +"Some parts of politics are all right and some are all wrong. It is like +Grant. He was straddled the fence part of the time. I believe Roosevelt +wants eight more years. Of course, he did a great deal for the people +but the working man isn't getting enough money. Prices are so high and +wages so low that a man keeps up to the grindstone and never gets ahead. +They don't mean for a colored man to prosper by money. Senator Robinson +said a nigger wasn't worth but fifty cents a day. But the nigger is +coming anyhow. He is stinching hisself and doing without. The young +folks ain't doing it though. These young folks doing every devilishment +on earth they can. Look at that boy they caught the other day who had +robbed twenty houses. This young race ain't goin' to stan' what I stood +for. They goin' to school every day but they ain't learning nothin'. +What will take us through this tedious journey through the world is his +manners, his principle, and his behavior. Money ain't goin' to do it. +You can't get by without principles, manner, and good behavior. Niggers +can't do it. And white folks can't either." + + + + +Pine Bluff District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of Interviewer: Martin - Barker +Subject: (Negro Lore)--Ex-Slave +Story:--information + +This information given by: Alfred Wells +Place of residence: +Occupation: +Age 77 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +I has de eye of an eagle. One in my haid, de other in my chest. +Sometimes us slaves would stay out later at night than ole marster seid +we could and they send the patrols out for us. + +And we started a song; "Run nigger run, the petlo' catch you, run nigger +run, its almost day." + +My brother run off and hid in the pasture. I wuz a small boy, dey called +me nigger cowboy, cause I drive de cows up at night, and took em to de +paster in the mornings. + +I knowed my brother runned off, but I wouldn't tell on him. He run off +to join the Yankees. They never found him, although, they used the +nigger dogs, who were taken out by men who were looking for runaway +nigger slaves. + +Ef I had my choice, I'd ruther be a slave. But we cant always have our +ruthers. Them times I had good food, plenty to wear, and no more work +than was good for me. + +Now I is kinder miliated, when I think of what a high stepper I used to +be. Having, to hang around with a sack on my back begging de government +to keep me fum starving. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Douglas Wells + 1419 Alabama Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 83 + + +"I'se just a kid 'bout six or seven when the war started and 'bout ten +or twelve when it ceasted. + +"I'se born in Mississippi on Miss Nancy Davis' plantation. Old Jeff +Davis was some relation. + +"My brother Jeff jined the Yankees but I never seen none till peace was +declared. + +"I heered the old folks talkin' and they said they was fightin' to keep +the people slaves. + +"I 'member old mistress, Miss Nancy. She was old when I was a kid. She +had a big, large plantation. She had a lot of hands and big quarter +houses. Oh, I 'member you could go three miles this way and three miles +that way. Oh, she had a big plantation. I reckon it was mighty near big +as this town. I 'member they used to take the cotton and hide it in the +woods. I guess it was to keep the Yankees from gettin' it. + +"I lived in the quarters with my father and mother and we stayed there +after the war--long time after the war. I stayed there till I got to be +grown. I continued there. I 'member her house and yard. Had a big yard. + +"I can read some. Learned it at Miss Nancy Davis' plantation after the +war. They had a little place where they had school. I went to church +some a long time ago. + +"Abraham Lincoln was a white man. He fought in the time of the war, +didn't he? Oh, yes, he issued freedom. The Yankees and the Rebels +fought. + +"After the war I worked at farm work. I ain't did no real hard work for +over a year." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: John Wells, Edmondson, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"I was born down here at Edmondson, Arkansas. My owner was a captain in +the Rebel War (Civil War). He run us off to Texas close to Greenville. +He was keeping us from the Yankees. In fact my father had planned to go +to the Yankees. My mother died on the way to Texas close to the Arkansas +line. She was confined and the child died too. We went in a wagon. Uncle +Tom and his wife and Uncle Granville went too. He left his wife. She +lived on another white man's farm. My master was Captain R. Campbell +Jones. He took us to Texas. He and my father come back in the same wagon +we went to Texas in. My father (Joe Jones Wells) told Captain R. +Campbell Jones if he didn't let him come back here that he would be here +when he got here--beat him back. That's what he told him. Captain +brought him on back with him. + +"What didn't we do in Texas? Hooeee! I had five hundred head of sheep +belonging to J. Gardner, a Texan, to herd every day--twice a day. Carry +'em off in the morning early and watch 'em and fetch 'em back b'fore +dark. I was a shepherd boy is right. I liked the job till the snow +cracked my feet open. No, I didn't have no shoes. Little round cactuses +stuck in my feet. + +"I had shoes to wear home. Captain Jones gave leather and everything +needed to Uncle Granville. He was a shoemaker. He made us all shoes jus' +before we was to start back. Captain Jones sent the wagon back for us. +My father come back right here at Edmondson and farmed cotton and corn. +Uncle Tom and Uncle Granville raised wheat out in Texas. They didn't +have no overseer but they said they worked harder 'an ever they done in +their lives, 'fore or since. + +"My father went to war with his master. Captain Jones served 'bout three +years I judge. My father went as his waiter. He got enough of war, he +said. + +"Captain R. Campbell Jones had a wife, Miss Anne, and no children. I +seen mighty near enough war in Texas. They fit there. Yes ma'am, they +did. I seen soldiers in Greenville, Texas. I seen the cavalry there. +They looked so fine. Prettiest horses I ever seen. + +"Freedom! Master Campbell Jones come to us and said, 'You free this +morning. The war is over.' It been over then but travel was slow. 'You +all can go back home, I'll take you, or you can go root hog or die.' We +all got to gatherin' up our belongings to come back home. Tired of no +wood neither, besides that hard work. We all share cropped with Captain +R. Campbell Jones two years. I know that. We got plenty wood without +going five or six miles like in Texas. After freedom folks got to +changing 'bout to do better I reckon. I been farmin' right here all my +life. We didn't have a lot to eat out in Texas neither. Mother was a +farm woman too. + +"I never seen a Ku Klux. Bad Ku Klux sound sorter like good Santa Claus. +I heard 'em say it was real. I never seen neither one. + +"I did own ten acres of land. I own a home now. + +"My father drove a grub wagon from Memphis to Lost Swamp Bottom--near +Edmondson--when they built this railroad through here. + +"Father never voted. I have voted several times. + +"Present times is tougher now than before it come on. Things not going +like it ought somehow. We wants more pension. Us old folks needs a good +living 'cause we ain't got much more time down here. + +"Present generation--they are slack--I means they slack on their +parents, don't see after them. They can get farm work to do. They waste +their money more than they ought. Some folks purty nigh hungry. That is +for a fact the way it is going. + + +Edmondson, Arkansas + +"Master Henry Edmondson owned all the land to the Chatfield place to +Lehi, Arkansas. He owned four or five thousand acres of land. It was +bottoms and not cleared. They had floods then, rode around in boats +sometimes. Colored folks could get land through Andy Flemming (colored +man). Mr. Henry Edmondson and whole family died with the yellow fever. +He had several children--Miss Emma, Henry, and Will I knowed. It is +probably his father buried at far side of this town. A rattlesnake bit +him. Lake Rest or Scantlin was a boat landing and that was where the +nearest white folks lived to the Edmondsons. I worked for Mr. Henry +Edmondson, the one died with yellow fever. He was easy to work for. Land +wasn't cleared out much. He was here before the Civil War. Good many +people, in fact all over there, died of yellow fever at Indian Mound. Me +and my brother waited on white folks all through that yellow fever +plague. Very few colored folks had it. None of 'em I heered tell of died +with it. White folks died in piles. Now when the smallpox raged the +colored folks had it seem like heap more and harder than white folks. +Smallpox used to rage every few years. It break out and spread. That is +the way so many colored folks come to own land and why it was named +Edmondson. Named for Master Henry--Edmondson, Arkansas. + +"Mrs. Cynthia Ann Earle wrote a diary during the Civil War. It was +partly published in the Crittenden County Times--West Memphis +paper--Fridays, November 27 and December 4, 1936. She tells interesting +things happening. Mentions two books she is reading. She tells about a +flood, etc. She tells about visiting and spending over a thousand +dollars. Mrs. L.A. Stewart or Mrs. H.E. Weaver of Edmondson owns copies +if they cannot be obtained at the printing office at West Memphis." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Sarah Wells + 1012 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 84 +Occupation: Field hand + + +"I was born in Warren County, Mississippi, on Ben Watkins' plantation. +That was my master--Ben Worthington. I don't know nothin' about the year +but it was before the war--the Civil War. I was born on Christmas day. + +"Isaac Irby was my father. I don't know how you spell it. I can't read +and write. I can tell you this. My mother's dead. She's been dead since +I was twelve years old. Her name was Jane Irby. My name is Wells because +I have been married. Willis was my husband's name. I have just been +married once. I was married to him fifty years. He has been dead +thirteen years the fifteenth of October. I don't know how old I was when +I was married. But I know I am eighty-four years old now. I must have +been about twenty or twenty-one when I married. + + +Slave Houses + +"The slaves lived in log houses, dirt chimneys, plank floors. They had +beds made out of wood--that's all I know. I don't know where they kept +their food. They kept it in the house when they had any. The slaves +didn't have to cook much. Mars Ben had a slave to cook for them. They +all et breakfast together, and lunch in the fiel'. + + +Food and Cooking + +"There was a great big shed. They'd all go up there and eat--the slaves +would all go up and eat. I don't know what the grown folks had. They +used to give us children milk and corn bread for breakfast. They'd give +us greens, peas, and all like that for dinner. Didn't know nothin' about +no lunch. + + +Work and Runaways; Day's Work + +"My mother and father worked in the field hoeing, plowing and all like +that--doing whatever they told 'em to do. They raised corn and ground +meal. Some of the slaves would pick five hundred pounds of cotton in a +day; some of them would pick three hundred pounds; and some of them only +picked a hundred. IF YOU DIDN'T PICK TWO HUNDRED FIFTY POUNDS, THEY'D +PUNISH YOU, put you in the stocks. If you'd run off, they put the nigger +hounds behind you. I never run off, but my mother run off. + +"She would go in the woods. I don't know where she'd go after she'd get +in the woods. She would go in the woods and hide somewheres. She'd take +somethin' to eat with her. I couldn't find her myself. She take +somethin' to eat with her. She didn't know what flour bread was. I don't +remember what she'd take--somethin' she could carry. Sometimes she would +stay in the woods two months, sometimes three months. They'd pay for the +nigger hounds and let them chase her back. She'd try to get away. She +never took me with her when she ran away. + + +Buying and Selling + +"My mother and her sister were bought in old Virginny. Ben Watkins was +the one that bought her. He bought my father too. Then he sold my father +to the Leightons. Leighton bought my father from Ben Watkins for a +carriage driver. I was never bought nor sold. I was born on Ben Watkins' +plantation and freed on it. + + +Patrollers + +"I've heered them say the pateroles is out. I don't know who they was. I +know they'd whip you. I was a child then. I would just know what I was +told mostly. + + +How Freedom Came + +"The Yankees told my mother she was free. They had on blue clothes. They +said them was the Yankees. I don't know what they told her. I know they +said she was free. That's all I know. + +"Sometimes the soldiers would do right smart damage. They set a lot of +houses on fire. They done right smart damage. + + +Jeff Davis + +"I have seen Jeff Davis. I never seen Lincoln. They said it was Jeff +Davis I seen. I seen him in Vicksburg. That was after the war was over. + + +Ku Klux Klan + +"I have heered about the Ku Klux, but I don't know what it was I heered. +They never bothered me. + + +Right after the War + +"Right after the war, my mother and father hired out to work. They did +most any kind of work--whatever they could get to do. Mother cooked. +Father would generally do house cleaning. Mother didn't live long after +the war. + + +Blood Poisoning + +"I lost my finger because of blood poisoning. I had a scratch on my +finger. Pulled a hangnail out of it. I went around a lady who had a high +fever and she asked me to sponge her off and I did it. I got the finger +in the water that I sponged with and it got blood poisoned. I like to +have died. + + +Father's Death + +"I was married and had three children when my father died. I don't know +what he died with nor what year. + +"My mother had had seven children--all girls. I had seven children. But +three of mine were boys and four were girls. Ain't none of them living +now. + + +Little Rock + +"My son was living in Little Rock and he kept after me to come here and +I come. After I come, he left and went to Kansas City. He died there. I +used to do laundry work. I quit that. I commenced to do sellin' for +different companies. I sold for Mack Brady, Crawford & Reeves, and a lot +of 'em. + + +Opinions + +"I don't know what I think about the young people. They ain't nothin' +like I was when I was a gal. Things have changed since I come along. I +better not say what I think." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +The interviewee says she is eighty-four, and her story hangs together. +Her husband died thirteen years ago, and they had been married fifty +years when he died. She "recollects" being about twenty years old when +she married. She says she was about twelve years old when her mother +died, one year after the close of the Civil War. This data seems to be +rather conclusive on the age of eighty-four. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sarah Williams Wells, Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: Born 1866 + + +"I jess can't tell much; my memory fails me. My white folks was John and +Mary Williams but I was born two years after the surrender. Soon after +the surrender they went to Lebanon, Tennessee. My folks stayed on wha I +was born round in Murry County. My father was killed after the war but I +was little. My mother died same year I married. I heard em say there was +John and Frank. They may be living over there now. I heard em talking +bout war times. They said my father was a blacksmith in the war. I come +here wid four little children on a ticket to Crocketts Bluff. We was +sick all that year. Made a fine crop. The man let another man have us to +work. He was a colored man. His wife she was mean to us. She never come +to see or do one thing when we all had fever. The babies nearly starved. +Took all for doctor bills and medicine. Had $12 when all bills settled +out of the whole crop. In all I had fifteen children. But two girls and +one boy all that livin now. I farmed and washed and ironed all my life. +My husband was born a slave. (He recently died.) + +"The present generation ain't got no religion. They dances and cuts up a +heap. They don't care nothing bout settlin down. When they marry now, +that man say he got the law on her. She belongs to him. He thinks he can +make her do like he wants her all the time and they don't get along. Now +that's what I hear round. I sho got married and we got along good till +he died. We treated one another best we knowed how. The times is what +the folks making it. Time ain't no different, is like the folks make. +This depression is whut the folks is making. Some so scared they won't +get it all. They leave mighty little for the rest to get. They ain't +nothin matter with nothin but the greedy people want it all to split +through wid. I don't know what going to come of it all. Nothin I tell +you bout it ain't no good. Young folks done smarter than I is. They +don't listen to nobody." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: John Wesley, Helena, Arkansas +Age: ? + + +"I was full grown when the Civil War come on. I was a slave till +'mancipation. I was born close to Lexington, Kentucky. My master in +Kentucky was Master Griter. He was 'fraid er freedom. Father belong to +Averys in Tennessee. He was a farm hand. They wouldn't sell him. I was +sold to Master Boone close to Moscow. I was sold on a scaffold high as +that door (twelve feet). I seen a lot of children sold on that scaffold. +I fell in the hands of George Coggrith. We come to Helena in wagons. We +crossed the river out from Memphis to Hopefield. I lived at Wittsburg, +Arkansas during the war. They smuggled us about from the Yankees and +took us to Texas. Before the war come on we had to fight the Indians +back. They tried to sell us in Texas. George Coggrith's wife died. +Mother was the cook for all the hands and the white folks too. She +raised two boys and three girls for him. She went on raising his +children during the war and after the war. During the war we hid out and +raised cotton and corn. We hid in the woods. The Yankees couldn't make +much out in the woods and canebrakes. We stayed in Texas about a year. +Four years after freedom we didn't know we was free. We was on his farm +up at Wittsburg. That is near Madison, Arkansas. Mother wouldn't let the +children get far off from our house. She was afraid the Indians would +steal the children. They stole children or I heard they did. The wild +animals and snakes was one thing we had to look out for. Grown folks and +children all kept around home unless you had business and went on a +trip. + +"My wife died three years ago. I stay with a grandchild. I got a boy but +I don't know where he is now. + +"I had a acre and a home. I got in debt and they took my place. + +"I voted. The last time for President Wilson. We got a good President +now. I voted both kinds of tickets some. I think they called me a +Democrat. I quit voting. I'm too old. + +"I farmed in my young days. I oil milled. I saw milled. I still black +smithing (in Helena now). I make one or two dollars a week. Work is hard +to git. Times is tight. I don't get help 'ceptin' some friend bring us +some work. I stay up here all time nearly. + +"I don't know about the young generation. + +"Well, we had a gin. During of the war it got burnt and lots of bales of +cotton went 'long with it. + +"The Ku Klux come about and drink water. They wanted folks to stay at +home and work. That what they said. We done that. We didn't know we was +free nohow. We wasn't scared." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Robert Wesley, Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +"I was born in Shelby County, Alabama. My parents was Mary and Thomas +Wesley. Their master was Mary and John Watts. + +"John Watts tried to keep me. I stayed round him all time and rode up +behind him on his horse. He was a soldier. + +"Both my parents was sold but I don't know how it was done. There was +thirteen children in our family. The white folks had a picnic and took +colored long to do round. Some heard bout freedom and went home tellin' +bout it. We stayed on and worked. + +"The Ku Klux sure did run some of em. Seem like they didn't know what +freedom meant. Some of em run off and kept goin'. Never did get back. I +don't know a thing bout the Ku Klux. I heard em say they got whoopin's +for doin' too much visitin'. I was a baby so I don't know. + +"I do not vote. I voted for McKinley in Mississippi. + +"I been farmin' all my life. I got one hog and a garden, three little +grand babies. My daughter died and their papa went off and left em. +Course I took em--had to. I pay $1 house rent. I get $12 from the PWA. + +"The times is mighty fast. I recken the young folks do fair. There has +been big changes since I come on." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Maggie Wesmoland, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 85 + + +"I was born in Arkansas in slavery time beyond Des Arc. My parents was +sold in Mississippi. They was brought to Arkansas. I never seed my +father after the closing of the war. He had been refugeed to Texas and +come back here, then he went on back to Mississippi. Mama had seventeen +children. She had six by my stepfather. When my stepfather was mustered +out at De Valls Bluff he come to Miss (Mrs.) Holland's and got mama and +took her on wid him. I was give to Miss Holland's daughter. She married +a Cargo. The Hollands raised me and my sister. I never seen mama after +she left. My mother was Jane Holland and my father was Smith Woodson. +They lived on different places here in Arkansas. I had a hard time. I +was awfully abused by the old man that married Miss Betty. She was my +young mistress. He was poor and hated Negroes. He said they didn't have +no feeling. He drunk all the time. He never had been used to Negroes and +he didn't like em. He was a middle age man but Miss Betty Holland was in +her teens. + +"No, mama didn't have as hard a time as I had. She was Miss Holland's +cook and wash woman. Miss Betty told her old husband, 'Papa don't beat +his Negroes. He is good to his Negroes.' He worked overseers in the +field. Nothing Miss Betty ever told him done a bit of good. He didn't +have no feeling. I had to go in a trot all the time. I was scared to +death of him--he beat me so. I'm scarred up all over now where he lashed +me. He would strip me start naked and tie my hands crossed and whoop me +till the blood ooze out and drip on the ground when I walked. The flies +blowed me time and again. Miss Betty catch him gone, would grease my +places and put turpentine on them to kill the places blowed. He kept a +bundle of hickory switches at the house all the time. Miss Betty was +good to me. She would cry and beg him to be good to me. + +"One time the cow kicked over my milk. I was scared not to take some +milk to the house, so I went to the spring and put some water in the +milk. He was snooping round (spying) somewhere and seen me. He beat me +nearly to death. I never did know what suit him and what wouldn't. +Didn't nothing please him. He was a poor man, never been used to nothin' +and took spite on me everything happened. They didn't have no children +while I was there but he did have a boy before he died. He died fore I +left Dardanelle. When Miss Betty Holland married Mr. Cargo she lived +close to Dardanelle. That is where he was so mean to me. He lived in the +deer and bear hunting country. + +"He went to town to buy them some things for Christmas good while after +freedom--a couple or three years. Two men come there deer hunting every +year. One time he had beat me before them and on their way home they +went to the Freemens bureau and told how he beat me and what he done it +for--biggetness. He was a biggity acting and braggy talking old man. +When he got to town they asked him if he wasn't hiding a little Negro +girl, ask if he sent me to school. He come home. I slept on a bed made +down at the foot of their bed. That night he told his wife what all he +said and what all they ask him. He said he would kill whoever come there +bothering about me. He been telling that about. He told Miss Betty they +would fix me up and let me go stay a week at my sister's Christmas. He +went back to town, bought me the first shoes I had had since they took +me. They was brogan shoes. They put a pair of his sock on me. Miss Betty +made the calico dress for me and made a body out of some of his pants +legs and quilted the skirt part, bound it at the bottom with red +flannel. She made my things nice--put my underskirt in a little frame +and quilted it so it would be warm. Christmas day was a bright warm day. +In the morning when Miss Betty dressed me up I was so proud. He started +me off and told me how to go. + +"I got to the big creek. I got down in the ditch--couldn't get across. I +was running up and down it looking for a place to cross. A big old mill +was upon the hill. I could see it. I seen three men coming, a white man +with a gun and two Negro men on horses or mules. I heard one say, +'Yonder she is.' Another said, 'It don't look like her.' One said, 'Call +her.' One said, 'Margaret.' I answered. They come to me and said, 'Go to +the mill and cross on a foot log.' I went up there and crossed and got +upon a stump behind my brother-in-law on his horse. I didn't know him. +The white man was the man he was share croppin' with. They all lived in +a big yard like close together. I hadn't seen my sister before in about +four years. Mr. Cargo told me if I wasn't back at his house New Years +day he would come after me on his horse and run me every step of the way +home. It was nearly twenty-five miles. He said he would give me the +worst whooping I ever got in my life. I was going back, scared not to be +back. Had no other place to live. + +"When New Year day come the white man locked me up in a room in his +house and I stayed in there two days. They brought me plenty to eat. I +slept in there with their children. Mr. Cargo never come after me till +March. He didn't see me when he come. It started in raining and cold and +the roads was bad. When he come in March I seen him. I knowed him. I lay +down and covered up in leaves. They was deep. I had been in the woods +getting sweet-gum when I seen him. He scared me. He never seen me. This +white man bound me to his wife's friend for a year to keep Mr. Cargo +from getting me back. The woman at the house and Mr. Cargo had war +nearly about me. I missed my whoopings. I never got none that whole +year. It was Mrs. Brown, twenty miles from Dardanelle, they bound me +over to. I never got no more than the common run of Negro children but +they wasn't mean to me. + +"When I was at Cargo's, he wouldn't buy me shoes. Miss Betty would have +but in them days the man was head of his house. Miss Betty made me +moccasins to wear out in the snow--made them out of old rags and pieces +of his pants. I had risings on my feet and my feet frostbite till they +was solid sores. He would take his knife and stob my risings to see the +matter pop way out. The ice cut my feet. He cut my foot on the side with +a cowhide nearly to the bone. Miss Betty catch him outer sight would +doctor my feet. Seem like she was scared of him. He wasn't none too good +to her. + +"He told his wife the Freemens Bureau said turn that Negro girl loose. +She didn't want me to leave her. He despised nasty Negroes he said. One +of them fellows what come for me had been to Cargo's and seen me. He was +the Negro man come to show Patsy's husband and his share cropper where I +was at. He whooped me twice before them deer hunters. They visited him +every spring and fall hunting deer but they reported him to the Freemens +Bureau. They knowed he was showing off. He overtook me on a horse one +day four or five years after I left there. I was on my way from school. +I was grown. He wanted me to come back live with them. Said Miss Betty +wanted to see me so bad. I was so scared I lied to him and said yes to +all he said. He wanted to come get me a certain day. I lied about where +I lived. He went to the wrong place to get me I heard. I was afraid to +meet him on the road. He died at Dardanelle before I come way from +there. + +"After I got grown I hired out cooking at $1.25 a week and then $1.50 a +week. When I was a girl I ploughed some. I worked in the field a mighty +little but I have done a mountain of washing and ironing in my life. I +can't tell you to save my life what a hard time I had when I was growing +up. My daughter is a blessing to me. She is so good to me. + +"I never knowed nor seen the Ku Klux. The Bushwhackers was awful after +the war. They went about stealing and they wouldn't work. + +"Conditions is far better for young folks now than when I come on. They +can get chances I couldn't get they could do. My daughter is tied down +here with me. She could do washings and ironings if she could get them +and do it here at home. I think she got one give over to her for awhile. +The regular wash woman is sick. It is hard for me to get a living since +I been sick. I get commodities. But the diet I am on it is hard to get +it. The money is the trouble. I had two strokes and I been sick with +high blood pressure three years. We own our house. Times is all right if +I was able to work and enjoy things. I don't get the Old Age Pension. I +reckon because my daughter's husband has a job--I reckon that is it. I +can't hardly buy milk, that is the main thing. The doctor told me to eat +plenty milk. + +"I never voted." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Calvin West, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 68 + + +"Mother belong to Parson Renfro. He had a son named Jim Renfro. She was +a cook and farm hand too. I never heard her speak much of her owners. +Pa's owner was Dr. West and Miss Jensie West. He had a son Orz West and +his daughter was Miss Lillie West. I never was around their owners. Some +was dead before I come on. My pa was a cripple man. His leg was drawn +around with rheumatism. During slavery he would load up a small cart wid +cider and ginger cakes and go sell it out. He sold ginger cakes two for +a nickel and I never heard how he sold the cider. I heard him tell close +speriences he had with the patrollers. Some of the landowners didn't +want him trespassing on their places. He got a part of the money he sold +out for. I judge from what he said his owner got part for the wagon and +horse. He sold some at stores before freedom. He farmed too. His name +was Phillip West and mother's name was Lear West. He was a crack hand at +making ginger cakes. He sold wagon loads in town on Saturday till he +died. I was a boy nearly grown. They had ten children in all. I was born +in Tate County, Mississippi. + +"Mr. Miller had land here. I didn't work for him but he wanted me to +come here and work his land. He give us tickets. He said this was new +land and we could do better. We work a lot and make big crops and don't +hardly get a living out of it. We come on the train here. + +"We come in 1920. The way we got down here now it is bad. We make big +crops and don't get much for it. We have no place to raise things to +help out and pay big prices for everything. I work. But times is hard. +That is the very reason it is hard. We got no place to raise nothing. +(Hard road and ditch in front and cotton field all around it except a +few feet of padded dirt and a wood pile.) Times is good and if a fellow +could ever get a little ahead I believe he could stay ahead. Since my +wife been sick we jes' can make it. + +"We never called for no help. She cooked and I worked. She signed up but +it will be a long time, they said, till they could get to her." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Mays West, Widener, Arkansas +Age: 65 + + +"My parents' names was Josie Vesey and Henry Mays. They had ten children +and five lived to be full grown. I was born in Tate County, Mississippi. +Mother died in childbirth when she was twenty-eight years old. I'm the +mother of twelve and got five living. I been cooking out for white +people since I was nine years old. I am a good cook they all tell me and +I tries to be clean with my cooking. + +"Mother died before I can remember much about her. My father said he had +to work before day and all day and till after night in the spring and +fall of the year. They ploughed with oxen and mules and horses all. He +said how they would rest the teams and feed and still they would go on +doing something else. They tromped cotton at night by torchlight. +Tromped it in the wagons to get off to the gin early next morning. + +"In the winter they built fences and houses and got up wood and cleared +new ground. They made pots of lye hominy and lye soap the same day. They +had a ashhopper set all time. In the summer is when they ditched if they +had any of that to do. Farming has been pretty much the same since I was +a child. I have worked in the field all my life. I cook in the morning +and go to the field all evening. + +"We just had a hard time this winter. I had a stroke in October and had +to quit cooking. (Her eye is closed on her left side--ed.) I love farm +life. The flood last year got us behind too. We could do fine if I had +my health." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sylvester Wethington + Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: 77 + + +"I recollect seeing the Malish (Malitia) pass up and down the road. I +can tell you two things happened at our house. The Yankee soldiers come +took all the stock we had all down to young mistress' mule. They come +fer it. Young mistress got a gun, went out there, put her side saddle on +the mule and climbed up. They let her an' that mule both be. Nother +thing they had a wall built in betwix er room and let hams and all kinds +provisions swing down in thor. It went unnoticed. I recken it muster +been 3 ft. wide and long as the room. Had to go up in the loft from de +front porch. The front porch wasn't ceiled but a place sawed out so you +could get up in the loft. They used a ladder and went up there bout once +a week. They swung hams and meal, flour and beef. They swung sacks er +corn down in that place. That all the place where they could keep us a +thing in de world to eat. They come an' got bout all we had. Look like +starvation ceptin' what we had stored way." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Joe Whitaker, Madison, Arkansas +Age: 70 plus + + +"I'm a blacksmith; my pa was a fine blacksmith. He was a blacksmith in +the old war (Civil War). He never got a pension. He said he loss his +sheep skin. His owners was George and Bill Whitaker. Mother always said +her owners was pretty good. I never heard my pa speak of them in that +way. They was both born in Tennessee. She was never sold. I was born in +Murray County, Tennessee too. My mother was named Fronie Whitaker and pa +Ike Whitaker. Mother had eleven children. My wife is a full-blood +Cherokee Indian. We have ten children and twenty-three grandchildren. + +"I don't have a word to say against the times; they are close at +present. Nor a word to say about the next generation. I think times is +progressing and I think the people are advancing some too." + + +[TR: The following is typed, but scratched out by hand:] +Interviewer's Comment + +Some say his wife is a small part African. + + + + +Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg +Person interviewed: Mrs. Julia A. White, 3003 Cross St., + Little Rock, Ark. +Age: 79 + + +Idiom and dialect are lacking in this recorded interview. Mrs. White's +conversation was entirely free from either. On being questioned about +this she explained that she was reared in a home where fairly correct +English was used. + + +My cousin Emanuel Armstead could read and write, and he kept the records +of our family. At one time he was a school director. Of course, that was +back in the early days, soon after the war closed. + +My father was named James Page Jackson because he was born on the old +Jackson plantation in Lancaster county, Virginia. He named one of his +daughters Lancaster for a middle name in memory of his old home. Clarice +Lancaster Jackson was her full name. A man named Galloway bought my +father and brought him to Arkansas. Some called him by the name of +Galloway, but my father always had all his children keep the name +Jackson. There were fourteen of us, but only ten lived to grow up. He +belonged to Mr. Galloway at the time of my birth, but even at that, I +did not take the name Galloway as it would seem like I should. My father +was a good carpenter; he was a fine cook, too; learned that back in +Virginia. I'll tell you something interesting. The first cook stove ever +brought to this town was one my father had his master to bring. He was +cook at the Anthony House. You know about that, don't you? It was the +first real fine hotel in Little Rock. When father went there to be head +cook, all they had to cook on was big fireplaces and the big old Dutch +ovens. Father just kept on telling about the stoves they had in +Virginia, and at last they sent and got him one; it had to come by boat +and took a long time. My father was proud that he was the one who set +the first table ever spread in the Anthony House. + +You see, it was different with us, from lots of slave folks. Some +masters hired their slaves out. I remember a drug store on the corner of +Main and Markham; it was McAlmont's drug store. Once my father worked +there; the money he earned, it went to Mr. Galloway, of course. He said +it was to pay board for mother and us little children. + +My mother came from a fine family,--the Beebe family. Angeline Beebe was +her name. You've heard of the Beebe family, of course. Roswell Beebe at +one time owned all the land that Little Rock now sets on. I was born in +a log cabin where Fifth and Spring streets meet. The Jewish Synagogue is +on the exact spot. Once we lived at Third and Cumberland, across from +that old hundred-year-old-building where they say the legislature once +met. What you call it? Yes, that's it; the Hinterlider building. It was +there then, too. My father and mother had the kind of wedding they had +for slaves, I guess. Yes, ma'am, they did call them "broom-stick +weddings". I've heard tell of them. Yes, ma'am, the master and mistress, +when they find a couple of young slave folks want to get married, they +call them before themselves and have them confess they want to marry. +Then they hold the broom, one at each end, and the young folks told to +jump over. Sometimes they have a new cabin fixed all for them to start +in. After Peace, a minister came and married my father and mother +according to the law of the church and of the land. + +The master's family was thoughtful in keeping our records in their own +big family Bible. All the births and deaths of the children in my +father's family was in their Bible. After Peace, father got a big Bible +for our family, and--wait, I'll show you.... Here they are, all copied +down just like out of old master's Bible.... Here's where my father and +mother died, over on this page. Right here's my own children. This space +is for me and my husband. + +No ma'am, it don't make me tired to talk. But I need a little time to +recall all the things you want to know 'bout. I was so little when +freedom came I just can't remember. I'll tell you, directly. + +I remember that the first thing my father did was to go down to a +plantation where the bigger children was working, and bring them all +home, to live together as one family. That was a plantation where my +mother had been; a man name Moore--James Moore--owned it. I don't know +whether he had bought my mother from Beebe or not. I can remember two +things plain what happened there. I was little, but can still see them. +One of my mother's babies died and Master went to Little Rock on a horse +and carried back a little coffin under his arm. The mistress had brought +mother a big washing. She was working under the cover of the wellhouse +and tears was running down her face. When master came back, he said: +"How come you are working today, Angeline, when your baby is dead?" She +showed him the big pile of clothes she had to wash, as mistress said. He +said: "There is plenty of help on this place what can wash. You come on +in and sit by your little baby, and don't do no more work till after the +funeral." He took up the little dead body and laid it in the coffin with +his own hands. I'm telling you this for what happened later on. + +A long time after peace, one evening mother heard a tapping at the door. +When she went, there was her old master, James Moore. "Angeline," he +said, "you remember me, don't you?" Course she did. Then he told her he +was hungry and homeless. A man hiding out. The Yankees had taken +everything he had. Mother took him in and fed him for two or three days +till he was rested. The other thing clear to my memory is when my uncle +Tom was sold. Another day when mother was washing at the wellhouse and I +was playing around, two white men came with a big, broad-shouldered +colored man between them. Mother put her arms around him and cried and +kissed him goodbye. A long time after, I was watching one of my brothers +walk down a path. I told mother that his shoulders and body look like +that man she kissed and cried over. "Why honey," she says to me, "can +you remember that?" Then she told me about my uncle Tom being sold away. + +So you see, Miss, it's a good thing you are more interested in what I +know since slave days. I'll go on now. + +The first thing after freedom my mother kept boarders and done fine +laundry work. She boarded officers of the colored Union soldiers; she +washed for the officers' families at the Arsenal. Sometimes they come +and ask her to cook them something special good to eat. Both my father +and mother were fine cooks. That's when we lived at Third and +Cumberland. I stayed home till I was sixteen and helped with the cooking +and washing and ironing. I never worked in a cottonfield. The boys did. +All us girls were reared about the house. We were trained to be lady's +maids and houseworkers. I married when I was sixteen. That husband died +four years later, and the next year I married this man, Joel Randolph +White. Married him in March, 1879. In those days you could put a house +on leased ground. Could lease it for five years at a time. My father put +up a house on Tenth and Scott. Old man Haynie owned the land and let us +live in the house for $25.00 a year until father's money was all gone; +then we had to move out. The first home my father really owned was at +1220 Spring street, what is now. Course then, it was away out in the +country. A white lawyer from the north--B.F. Rice was his name--got my +brother Jimmie to work in his office. Jimmie had been in school most all +his life and was right educated for colored boy then. Mr. Rice finally +asked him how would he like to study law. So he did; but all the time he +wanted to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell Jimmie to go on studying law. It +is a good education; it would help him to be a preacher. Mr. Rice tell +my father he can own his own home by law. So he make out the papers and +take care of everything so some persons can't take it away. All that +time my family was working for Mr. Rice and finally got the home paid +for, all but the last payment, and Mr. Rice said Jimmie's services was +worth that. So we had a nice home all paid for at last. We lived there +till father died in 1879, and about ten years more. Then sold it. + +My father had more money than many ex-slaves because he did what the +Union soldiers told him. They used to give him "greenbacks" money and +tell him to take good care of it. You see, miss, Union money was not any +good here. Everything was Confederate money. You couldn't pay for a +dime's worth even with a five dollar bill of Union money then. The +soldiers just keep on telling my father to take all the greenbacks he +could get and hide away. There wasn't any need to hide it, nobody wanted +it. Soldiers said just wait; someday the Confederate money wouldn't be +any good and greenbacks would be all the money we had. So that's how my +father got his money. + +If you have time to listen, miss, I'd like to tell you about a wonderful +thing a young doctor done for my folks. It was when the gun powder +explosion wrecked my brother and sister. The soldiers at the Arsenal +used to get powder in tins called canteens. When there was a little +left--a tablespoon full or such like, they would give it to the little +boys and show them how to pour it in the palm of their hand, touch a +match to it and then blow. The burning powder would fly off their hand +without burning. We were living in a double house at Eighth and Main +then; another colored family in one side. They had lots of children, +just like us. One canteen had a lot more powder in. My brother was +afraid to pour it on his hand. He put a paper down on top of the stove +and poured it out. It was a big explosion. My little sister was standing +beside her brother and her scalp was plum blowed off and her face burnt +terribly. His hand was all gone, and his face and neck and head burnt +terribly, too. There was a young doctor live close by name Deuell. +Father ran for him. He tell my mother if she will do just exactly what +he say, their faces will come out fine. He told her to make up bread +dough real sort of stiff. He made a mask of it. Cut holes for their +eyes, nose holes and mouths, so you could feed them, you see. He told +mother to leave that on till it got hard as a rock. Then still leave it +on till it crack and come off by itself. Nobody what ever saw their +faces would believe how bad they had been burnt. Only 'round the edges +where the dough didn't cover was there any scars. Dr. Deuell only +charged my father $50.00 apiece for that grand work on my sister and +brother. + +_Yes ma'am_, I'll tell you how I come to speak what you call good +English. First place, my mother and father was brought up in families +where they heard good speech. Slaves what lived in the family didn't +talk like cottonfield hands. My parents sure did believe in education. + +The first free schools in Little Rock were opened by the Union for +colored children. They brought young white ladies for teachers. They had +Sunday School in the churches on Sunday. In a few years they had colored +teachers come. One is still living here in Little Rock. I wish you would +go see her. She is 90 years old now. She founded the Wesley Chapel here. +On her fiftieth anniversary my club presented her a gold medal and had +"Mother Wesley" engraved on it. Her name is Charlotte E. Stevens. She +has the first school report ever put out in Little Rock. It was in the +class of 1869. Two of my sisters were graduated from Philander Smith +College here in Little Rock and had post graduate work in Fisk +University in Nashville, Tennessee. My brothers and sisters all did well +in life. Allene married a minister and did missionary work. Cornelia was +a teacher in Dallas, Texas. Mary was a caterer in Hot Springs. Clarice +went to Colorado Springs, Colorado and was a nurse in a doctor's office. +Jimmie was the preacher, as I told you. Gus learned the drug business +and Willie got to be a painter. Our adopted sister, Molly, could do +anything, nurse, teach, manage a hotel. Yes, our parents always insisted +we had to go to school. It's been a help to me all my life. I'm the only +one now living of all my brothers and sisters. + +Well ma'am, about how we lived all since freedom; it's been good till +these last years. After I married my present husband in 1879, he worked +in the Missouri Pacific railroad shops. He was boiler maker's helper. +They called it Iron Mountain shops then, though. 52 years, 6 months and +24 days he worked there. In 1922, on big strike, all men got laid off. +When they went back, they had to go as new men. Don't you see what that +done to my man? He was all ready for his pension. Yes ma'am, had worked +his full time to be pensioned by the railroad. But we have never been +able to get any retirement pension. He should have it. Urban League is +trying to help him get it. He is out on account of disability and old +age. He got his eye hurt pretty bad and had to be in the railroad +hospital a long time. I have the doctor's papers on that. Then he had a +bad fall what put him again in the hospital. That was in 1931. He has +never really been discharged, but just can't get any compensation. He +has put in his claim to the Railroad Retirement office in Washington. +I'm hoping they get to it before he dies. We're both mighty old and +feeble. He had a stroke in 1933, since he been off the railroad. + +How we living now? It's mighty poorly, please believe that. In his good +years we bought this little home, but taxes so high, road assessments +and all make it more than we can keep up. My granddaughter lives with +us. She teaches, but only has school about half a year. I was trying to +educate her in the University of Wisconsin, but poor child had to quit. +In summer we try to make a garden. Some of the neighbors take in washing +and they give me ironing to do. Friends bring in fresh bread when they +bake. It takes all my granddaughter makes to keep up the mortgage and +pay all the rest. She don't have clothes decent to go. + +I have about sold the last of the antiques. In old days the mistress +used to give my mother the dishes left from broken sets, odd vases and +such. I had some beautiful things, but one by one have sold them to +antique dealers to get something to help out with. My church gives me a +donation every fifth Sunday of a collection for benefit. Sometimes it is +as much as $2.50 and that sure helps on the groceries. Today I bought +four cents worth of beans and one cent worth of onions. I say you have +to cut the garment according to the cloth. You ain't even living from +hand to mouth, if the hand don't have something in it to put to the +mouth. + +No ma'am, we couldn't get on relief, account of this child teaching. One +relief worker did come to see us. She was a case worker, she said. She +took down all I told her about our needs and was about ready to go when +she saw my seven hens in the yard. "Whose chickens out there?" she +asked. "I keep a few hens," I told her. "Well," she hollered, "anybody +that's able to keep chickens don't need to be on relief roll," and she +gathered up her gloves and bag and left. + +Yes ma'am, I filed for old age pension, too. It was in April, 1935 I +filed. When a year passed without hearing, I took my husband down so +they could see just how he is not able to work. They told me not to +bring him any more. Said I would get $10.00 a month. Two years went, and +I never got any. I went by myself then, and they said yes, yes, they +have my name on file, but there is no money to pay. There must be +millions comes in for sales tax. I don't know where it all goes. Of +course the white folks get first consideration. Colored folks always has +to bear the brunt. They just do, and that's all there is to it. + +What do I think of the younger generation? I wouldn't speak for all. +There are many types, just like older people. It has always been like +that, though. If all young folks were like my granddaughter--I guess +there is many, too. She does all the sewing, and gardening. She paints +the house, makes the draperies and bed clothing. She can cook and do all +our laundry work. She understands raising chickens for market but just +don't have time for that. She is honest and clean in her life. + +Yes ma'am, I did vote once, a long time ago. You see, I wasn't old +enough at first, after freedom, when all the colored people could vote. +Then, for many years, women in Arkansas couldn't vote, anyhow. I can +remember when M.W. Gibbs was Police Judge and Asa Richards was a colored +alderman. No ma'am! The voting law is not fair. It's most unfair! We +colored folks have to pay just the same as the white. We pay our sales +tax, street improvement, school tax, property tax, personal property +tax, dog license, automobile license--they what have cars--; we pay +utility tax. And we should be allowed to vote. I can tell you about +three years ago a white lady come down here with her car on election day +and ask my old husband would he vote how she told him if she carried him +to the polls. He said yes and she carried him. When he got there they +told him no colored was allowed to vote in that election. Poor old man, +she didn't offer to get him home, but left him to stumble along best he +could. + +I'm glad if I been able to give you some help. You've been patient with +an old woman. I can tell you that every word I have told you is true as +the gospel. + + + + +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--Julia White, 3003 Cross Street, Little +Rock. + +2. Date and time of interview-- + +3. Place of interview--3003 Cross 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-- + +6. Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.-- + + +Personal History of informant + +1. Ancestry-- + +2. Place and date of birth--Little Rock, Arkansas, 1858 + +3. Family--Two children + +4. Places lived in, with dates--Little Rock all her life. + +5. Education, with dates-- + +6. Occupations and accomplishments, with dates-- + +7. Special skills and interests-- + +8. Community and religious activities-- + +9. Description of informant-- + +10. Other points gained in interview--She tells of accomplishments made +by the Negro race. + + +Text of Interview (Unedited) + +"I was born right here in Little Rock, Arkansas, eighty years ago on the +corner of Fifth and Broadway. It was in a little log house. That used to +be out in the woods. At least, that is where they told me I was born. I +was there but I don't remember it. The first place I remember was a +house on Third and Cumberland, the southwest corner. That was before the +war. + +"We were living there when peace was declared. You know, my father hired +my mother's time from James Moore. He used to belong to Dick Galloway. I +don't know how that was. But I know he put my mother in that house on +Third and Cumberland while she was still a slave. And we smaller +children stayed in the house with mother, and the larger children worked +on James Moore's plantation. + +"My father was at that time, I guess, you would call it, a porter at +McAlmont's drug store. He was a slave at that time but he worked there. +He was working there the day this place was taken. I'll never forget +that. It was on September 10th. We were going across Third Street, and +there was a Union woman told mamma to bring us over there, because the +soldiers were about to attack the town and they were going to have a +battle. + +"I had on a pair of these brogans with brass plates on them, and they +were flapping open and I tripped up just as the rebel soldiers were +running by. One of them said, "There's a like yeller nigger, les take +her." Mrs. Farmer, the Union woman ran out and said, "No you won't; +that's my nigger." And she took us in her house. And we stayed there +while there was danger. Then my father came back from the drug store, +she said she didn't see how he kept from being killed. + +"At that time, there were about four houses to the block. On the place +where we lived there was the big house, with many rooms, and then there +was the barn and a lot of other buildings. My father rented that place +and turned the outbuildings into little houses and allowed the freed +slaves to live in them till they could find another place. + +"My husband was an orphan child, and the people he was living with were +George Phelps and Ann Phelps. They were freed slaves. That was after the +war. They came here and had this little boy with them, that is how I +come to meet that gentlemen over there and get acquainted with him. When +they moved away from there Phelps was caretaker of the Oakland Cemetery. +We married on the twenty-seventh day of March, 1879. I still have the +marriage license. I married twice; my first husband was George W. Glenn +and my maiden name was Jackson. I married the first time June 10, 1875. +I had two children in my first marriage. Both of than are dead. Glenn +died shortly after the birth of the last child, February 15, 1878. + +"Mr. White is a mighty good man. He is put up with me all these years. +And he took mighty good care of my children, them by my first husband as +well as his own. When I was a little girl, he used to tell me that he +wouldn't have me for a wife. After we were married, I used to say to +him, 'You said you wouldn't have me, but I see you're mighty glad to get +me.' + +"I have the marriage license for my second marriage. + +"There's quite a few of the old ones left. Have you seen Mrs. Gillam, +and Mrs. Stephen, and Mrs. Weathers? Cora Weathers? Her name is Cora not +Clora. She's about ninety years old. She's at least ninety years old. +You say she says that she is seventy-four. That must be her insurance +age. I guess she is seventy-four at that; she had to be seventy-four +before she was ninety. When I was a girl, she was a grown woman. She was +married when my husband went to school. That has been more than sixty +years ago, because we've been married nearly sixty years. My sister Mary +was ten years older than me, and Cora Weathers was right along with her. +She knew my mother. When these people knew my mother they've been here, +because she's been dead since '94 and she would have been 110 if she had +lived. + +"My mother used to feed the white prisoners--the Federal soldiers who +were being held. They paid her and told her to keep the money because it +was Union Money. You know at that time they were using Confederate +money. My father kept it. He had a little box or chest of gold and +silver money. Whenever he got any paper money, he would change it into +gold or silver. + +"Mother used to make these ginger cakes--they call 'em stage planks. My +brother Jimmie would sell them. The men used to take pleasure in trying +to cheat him. He was so clever they couldn't. They never did catch him +napping. + +"Somebody burnt our house; it was on a Sunday evening. They tried to say +it caught from the chimney. We all like to uv burnt up. + +"My father was a carpenter, whitewasher, anything. He was a common +laborer. We didn't have contractors then like we do now. Mother worked +out in service too. Jimmie was the oldest boy. He taught school too. + +"My father set the first table that was ever set in the Anthony Hotel, +he was the cause of the first stove being brought here to cook on. + +"Some of the children of the people that raised my mother are still +living. They are Beebes. Roswell Beebe was a little one. They had a +colored man named Peter and he was teaching Roswell to ride and the pony +ran away. Peter stepped out to stop him and Roswell said, 'Git out of +the way Peter, and let Billie Button come'. + +"I get some commodities from the welfare. But I don't get nothing like a +pension. My husband worked at the Missouri Pacific shops for fifty-two +years, and he don't git nothing neither. It was the Iron Mountain when +he first went there on June 8, 1879. He was disabled in 1932 because of +injuries received on the job in March, 1931. But they hurried him out of +the hospital and never would give him anything. That Monday morning, +they had had a loving cup given them for not having had accidents in the +plant. And at three p.m., he was sent into the hospital. He had a fall +that injured his head. They only kept him there for two days and two +hours. He was hurt in the head. Dr. Elkins himself came after him and +let him set around in the tool room. He stayed there till he couldn't do +nothing at all. + +"In 1881, he got his eye hurt on the job in the service of the Missouri +Pacific. It was the Iron Mountain then. He was off about three or four +months. They didn't pay his wages while he was off. They told him they +would give him a lifetime job, but they didn't. His eye gave him trouble +for the balance of his life. Sometimes it is worse than others. He had +to go to the St. Louis Hospital quite often for about three or four +years. + +"When the house on Third and Cumberland was burnt, he rebuilded it, and +the owners charged him such rent he had to move. He rebuilt it for five +hundred dollars and was to get pay in rent. The owners jumped the rent +up to twenty-five dollars a month. That way it soon took up the five +hundred dollars. Then we moved to Eighth and Main. My brother Jimmie was +in an accident there. + +"He was pouring powder on a fire from an old powder horn and the flames +jumped up in the horn and exploded and crippled his hand and burnt his +face. Dr. Duel, a right young doctor, said he could cure them if father +would pay him fifty dollars a piece. My sister was burnt at the same +time as my brother. He had them make a thin dough, and put it over their +faces and he cut pieces out for their eyes, and nose, and mouth. They +left that dough on their faces and chest till the dough got hard and +peeled off by itself. It left the white skin. Gradually the face got +back to itself and took its right color again, so you couldn't tell they +had ever been burnt. The only medicine the doctor gave them was Epsom +salts. Fifty dollars for each child. I used that remedy on a school boy +once and cured him, but I didn't charge him nothing. + +"I have a program which was given in 1874. They don't give programs like +that now. People wouldn't listen that long. We each of us had two and +three, and some of us had six and seven parts to learn. We learnt them +and recited them and came back the next night to give a Christmas Eve +program. You can make a copy of it if you want. + +"A.C. Richmond is Mrs. Childress' brother. Anna George is Bee Daniels' +mother (Bee Daniels is Mrs. Anthony, a colored public school teacher +here). Corinne Jordan is living on Gaines between Eighth and Ninth +streets. She is about seventy-five years old now. She was about Mollie's +age and I was about five years older than Molly. Mary Riley is C.C. +Riley's sister. C.C. Riley is Haven Riley's father. C.C. is dead now. +Haven Riley was a teacher, at Philander Smith, for a while. He's a +stenographer now. August Jackson and J.W. Jackson are my brothers. W.O. +Emory became one of our pastors at Wesley. John Bush, everybody's heard +of him. He had the Mosaic temple and got a big fortune together before +he died, but his children lost it all. Annie Richmond is Annie +Childress, the wife of Professor E.C. Childress, the State Supervisor. +Corinne Winfrey turned out to be John Bush's wife. Willie Lane married +W.O. Emery. Scipio Jordan became the big man in the Tabernacle. H.H. +Gilkey went to the post office. He married Lizzie Hull. She's living +still too." + + +Extra Comment + +The marriage license which Mrs. White showed me, was issued March 27, +1879, by A.W. Worthen, County Clerk, per W.H.W. Booker to Julia Glen and +J.R. White. It carries the name of Reverend W.H. Crawford who was the +Pastor of Wesley Chapel Church at that time. The license was issued in +Pulaski County. + + + +GRAND ENTERTAINMENT AT WESLEY CHAPEL +Wednesday Evening, Dec'r. 23, 1874 + + * * * * * + +PROGRAMME + + +Part I + +Address by the General Manager Mr. A.C. Richmond + +Song--We Come Today By the School + +Prayer Rev. William Henry Crawford + +Declamation--My Mother's Bible Miss Annie George + +Dialogue--Three Little Graves Miss M. Upshaw and + Miss M.A. Scruggs + +Dialogue--About Heaven Miss Julia Jackson and + Miss Alice Richardson + +Declamation--Mud Pie Miss Amelia Rose + +Declamation--Ducklins and Miss Goren Jordan + Ducklins + +Dialogue--The Beggar Mr. H.H. Gilkey and + Mr. W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Work While Master Albert Pryor + You Work + +Dialogue--The Miser Mr. C.C. Riley and + Mr. Charles Hurtt, Jr. + +Declamation--Pretty Pictures Miss Cally Sanders + +Declamation--Into the Sunshine Miss Mollie Jackson + +Song--Joy Bells By the School + +Dialogue--Sharp Shooting Master Asa Richmond, + Scipio Jordan, + and Miss Laura A. Morgan + +Declamation--What I Know Master Morton Hurtt + +Declamation--The Side to Look On Miss Dora Frierson + +Dialogue--The Tattler Miss Mary Alexander, + Miss M.A. Scrugg, + Miss Mary Rose + +Declamation--Little Clara Miss Rebecca Ferguson + +Dialogue--John Williams' Choice Scipio Jordan, H.H. Gilkey + and Julia Jackson + +Declamation--A Good Rule + Miss Lilly Pryor + +Declamation--Complaint of the Poor + Miss Riley + +Dialogue--The Examination + L.H. Haney, Jackson Crawford + and John Richmond + +THE END. + + +Part II. + +Dialogue--The Maniac + +Miss Willie Lane, A.C. Richmond, + Rafe May, and Master A. Pryon + +Dialogue--Father, Dear Father; + or The Fruits of Drunkenness + +John E. Bush, W.A.M. Cypers, + Wm. Emery, Miss Coren Winfrey, + Miss Maggie Green, and others. + +Dialogue--An Awakening + +Miss Mollie Pryor and + Miss Annie Richmond + +Dialogue--Betsy and I are out + +Alex. Scruggs and W.A.M. Cypers + +Declamation--Lily of the Valley + +Miss Mary Foster + +Dialogue--Hasty Judgment + +C.C. Riley, A.C. Richmond, + Cypers and Haney + +Declamation--The Little Shooter + +Master August Jackson + +Dialogue--Practical Lesson + +Miss Julia Jackson, and August Jackson + +Declamation--Bird and the Baby + +Miss Julia Foster + +Dialogue--Scenes in the Police Court + +Richmond, Bush, and Emery + +Ballad--Yankee Doodle Dandy + +J.E. Bush + + +Part III + +Dialogue--Colloquy in Church + +Alice Richardson and Mollie + +Declamation--Lucy Gray + +Miss Alice Moore + +Dialogue--Matrimony + +Miss Willie Lane, M.A. Scruggs, + Mary Alexander, Mr. C.C. Riley + +Dialogue--Traveler + +Morton Hurtt and Scipio Jordan + +Declamation--Truth in Parenthesis + +Alice Moore. + +Dialogue--Forty Years Ago Ales, Scruggs, and J.P. Winfrey + +Declamation--The Last Footfall Lizzie Hull + +Declamation--Gone with a John E. Bush, Miss Maggie Green, + Handsomer Man than Me and H.G. Clay + +Declamation--Golden Side Annie Richmond + +Declamation--The Union was Swan Jeffries + saved by the Colored + Volunteers + +Dialogue--Relief Aid Saving Maggie Scruggs, Mary Ross, + Society Lizzie Hull, Alice Moore, + Mary Alexander, Mollie Pryor, + Annie Fairchild, Lizzie Wind, + Julia Jackson, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Song-Dutch Band A.C. Richardson, Wm. Emery, + J.H. Haney, W.A.M. Cypers, + J.O. Alexander, J.E. Bush, + J.W. Jackson + +Declamation--Number One Alice Richardson + +Declamation--What to Wear, and Miss Coren Winfrey + How to Wear It + +Dialogue--A Desirable J.E. Bush, J.W. Jackson, + A.C. Richmond + +Dialogue-The Little Bill Marion Henderson, J.E. Bush, + Miss Willie Lane, Miss Laura A. + Morgan, Asa Richmond, Jr. + +Dialogue--Country Aunt's Visit Henry Jackson, Misses Allice and + Julia Crawford, Maggie Howell, + Julia Jackson + +Dialogue--Beauty and the Beast Marion Henderson, Julia Jackson, + (six Scenes) Laura Morgan, Mary Scruggs, + Mary Ross, Coren Winfrey, + Willie Lane, Lizzie Wind, + Alice Crawford, J.E. Bush, + J.P. Winfrey + +Dialogue--How not to Get M.A. Scruggs and Mary Alexander + and Answer + +Declamation--The Incidents of John Richmond + Travel + + * * * * * + + +Interviewer's Comment + +This program was given on one night, and the participants doubled right +back the next night on another lengthy program celebrating Christmas Eve. + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Julia White (Continued) + 3003 Cross Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"The Commissary was on the northeast corner of Third and Cumberland. +They used to call it the government commissary building. It took up a +whole half block. Mrs. Farmer, the white woman, was living in what you +call the old Henderliter Place, the building on the northwest corner, +during the War. She was a Union woman, and was the one that took us in +when the Confederate soldiers were passing and wanted to take us to +Texas with them. + +"I was so small I didn't know much about things then. When peace was +declared a preacher named Hugh Brady, a white man, came here and he had +my mother and father to marry over again. + +"Mrs. Stephens' father was one of the first school-teachers here for +colored people. There were a lot of white people who came here from the +North to teach. Peabody School used to be called the Union School. Mrs. +Stephens has the first report of the school dated 1869. It gives the +names of the directors and all. J.H. Benford was one of the Northern +teachers. Anna Ware and Louise Coffman and Miss Henley were teachers +too. + +"Mrs. Stephens is the oldest colored teacher in Little Rock. The A-B-C +children didn't want the old men to teach us. So they would teach +'Lottie'--she was only twelve years old then--and she would hear our +lessons. Then at recess time, we would all get out and play together. +She was my play mama. Her father, William Wallace Andrews, the first +pastor of Wesley Chapel M.E. Church, was the head teacher and Mr. Gray +was the other. They were teaching in Wesley Chapel Church. It was then +on Eighth and Broadway. This was before Benford's time. It was just +after peace had been declared. I don't know where Andrews come from nor +how much learning he had. Most of the people then got their learning +from white children. But I don't know where he got his. + +"Wesley was his first church as far as I know. Before the War all the +churches were in with the white people. After freedom, they drew out. +Whether Wesley was his first church or not, he was Wesley's first +pastor. I got a history of the church." + +"They had a real Sunday-school in those days. My sister when she was a +child about twelve years old said three hundred Bible verses at one time +and received a book as a prize. The book was named 'A Wonderful +Deliverance' and other Stories, printed by the American Tract Society, +New York, 150 Nassau Street. My sister's name was Mollie Jackson." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Lucy White, Marianna, Arkansas +Age: 74 + + +"I was born on Jim Banks' place close to Felton. His wife named Miss +Puss. Mama and all of young master's niggers was brought from +Mississippi. I reckon it was 'fore I was born. Old master name Mack +Banks. I never heard mama say but they was good to my daddy. They had a +great big place in Mississippi and a good big place over here. + +"I recollect seeing the soldiers prance 'long the road. I thought they +looked mighty pretty. Their caps and brass buttons and canteens shining +in the sun. They rode the prettiest horses. One of 'em come in our house +one day. He told Miss Puss he was goiner steal me. She say, 'Don't take +her off.' He give me a bundle er bread and I run in the other room and +crawled under the bed 'way back in the corner. It was dark up under +there. I didn't eat the bread then but I et it after he left. It sure +was good. I didn't recollect much but seeing them pass the road. I like +to watch 'em. My parents was field folks. I worked in the field. I was +raised to work. I keep my clothes clean. I washed 'em. I cooked and +washed and ironed and done field work all. When I first recollect +Marianna, Mr. Lon Tau and Mr. Free Landing (?) had stores here. Dr. +Steven (Stephen?) and Dr. Nunnaly run a drug store here. There was a big +road here. Folks started building houses here and there. They called the +town Mary Ann fo' de longest time. + +"Well, the white folks told 'am, 'You free.' My folks worked on fer +about twenty years. They'd give 'em a little sompin outer dat crap. They +worked all sorter ways--that's right--they sure did. They rented and +share cropped together I reckon after the War ended. + +"The Ku Klux never bothered us. I heard 'bout 'em other places. + +"I never voted and I never do 'sepect to now. What I know 'bout votin'? + +"Well, I tell you, these young folks is cautions. They don't think so +but they is. Lazy, no'count, spends every cent they gits in their hands. +Some works, some work hard. They drink and carouse about all night +sometimes. No ma'am, I did not do no sich er way. I woulder been ashamed +of myself. I would. Times what done run away wid us all now. I don't +know what to look fer now but I know times changing all the time. + +"I gets ten dollars and some little things to eat along. I say it do +help out. I got rheumatism and big stiff j'ints (enlarged wrist and +knuckles)." + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden. +Person interviewed: David Whiteman (c) +Age: 88 +Home: 104 N. Kansas Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas. + + +"How de do lady. Oh yes, I was a pretty good sized boy when the war +started. My old marster was sponsible Smith. My young marster was his +son-in-law. I member 'bout the Yankees and the "Revels". I member when a +great big troop of 'em went to war. Some of 'em was cryin' and some was +laughin'. I tried to get young marster to let me go with him, but he +wouldn't let me. Old marster was too old to go and his son dodged around +and didn't go either. I member he caught hisself a wild mustang and tied +hisself on it and rode off and they never did see him again. + +"I know when they was fightin' we use to hear the balls when they was +goin' over. I used to pick up many a ball. + +"I wish my recollection was with me like it used to be." (At this point +his wife spoke up and said "Seems like since he had the flu, his mind is +kinda frazzled.") + +"Yes'm, I member the Ku Klux. They used to have the colored folks +dodgin' around tryin' to keep out of their way." + + + + +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Person Interviewed: Dolly Whiteside (c) +Age: 81 +Home: 103 Oregon Street, Pine Bluff, Ark. + + +"I reckon I did live in slavery times--look at my hair. + +"I been down sick--I been right low and they didn't speck me to live. + +"Well, I'll tell you. I was old enough to know when they runned us to +Texas so the Yankees couldn't overtaken us. We was in Texas when freedom +come, I remember I was sittin on the fence when the soldiers in them +blue uniforms with gold buttons come. He said, "I come to tell you you +is free". I didn't know what it was all about but everybody was sayin' +"Thank God". I thought it was the judgment day and I was lookin' for +God. I said to myself, I'm goin' have some buttons like that some day. + +"Colonel Williams was my marster. My mother was a nurse and took care of +the colored folks when they was sick. I remember when people wasn't +given nothin' but blue mass, calomel, castor oil and gruel, and every +body was healthier than they is now. + +"I'm the only one livin' that my mother birthed in this world. I was +born here, but I been travelin', I been to Memphis and around. + +"No mam, I don't remember nothin' else. I done tole you all I know." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: J.W. Whitfield + 3100 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 60 +Occupation: Preacher + + +"My father's name was Luke Whitfield. He was sixty-three years old when +he died in 1902. He was twenty-six years old when the Civil War ended. +He was a slave. There were three other boys in the family besides him. +No girls. + +"His old mars' name was Bill Carraway. They lived at Nubian [HW: New +Bern], North Carolina. + +"My father said that his work in slavery time was blacksmithing. He had +to fix the wagons and the plow too. He said that was his work during the +Civil War too. He worked in the Confederate army too. + +"I remember him saying how they whipped him when he ran off. The +overseer got after him to whip him and he and one of his friends ran +off. As they jumped over the fence to go into the woods the old mars hit +my daddy with a cat-o-nine tails. You see, they took a strap of harness +leather and cut it into four thongs and then they took another and cut +it into five thongs, and they tied them together. When you got one blow +you got nine and when you got five blows you got forty-five. As his old +mars hit him, he said. 'I got him one, sir; it was a good one too, sir, +and a go-boy.'[HW: ?] But it was nine. + +"My father told me how they married in slavery times. They didn't count +marriage like they do now. If one landowner had a girl and another +wanted that girl for one of his men, they would give him her to wife. +When a boy-child was born out of this marriage they would reserve him +for breeding purposes if he was healthy and robust. But if he was puny +and sickly they were not bothered about him. Many a time if the boy was +desirable, he was put on the stump and auctioned off by the time he was +thirteen years old. They called that putting him on the block. Different +ones would come and bid for him and the highest bidder would get him. + +"My father spoke of a pass. That was when they wanted to see the girls +they would have to get a pass from the old mars. My father would speak +to his mars and get a pass. If he didn't have a pass, the other mars +would give him a whipping and sent him back. I told you about how they +whipped them. They used to use those cat-o-nine tails on them when they +didn't have a pass. + +"They lived in a log cabin dobbed with dirt and their clothes were woven +on a loom. They got the cotton, spun it on the spinning-wheel, wove it +on the loom on rainy days. The women spun the thread and wove the cloth. +For the boys from five to fifteen years old, they would make long shirts +out of this cloth. The shirts had deep scallops in them. Then they would +take the same cloth and dye it with indigo and make pants out of it. The +boys never wore those pants in the field. No young fellow wore pants +until he began to court. + +"My mother was a girl that was sold in Lenoir County, near Kenston, [HW: +Kinston?] North Carolina. My father met her in a place called Buford, +[HW: Beaufort? Carteret Co.] North Carolina. My father was sold several +times. The owner sold her to his owner and they jumped over a broomstick +and were married. My daddy's mars bought my mother for him. Her name was +Penny." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Sarah Whitmore, Clarendon, Arkansas +Age: 100 + + +_Note_--The interviewer found this ex-slave in small quarters. The bed, +the room and the Negro were filthy. A fire burned in an ironing bucket, +mostly papers and trash for fuel. During the visit of the interviewer a +white girl brought a tray with a measuring cup of coffee and two slices +of bread with butter and fruit spread between. When asked where she got +her dinner she said "The best way I can" meaning somebody might bring it +to her. Her hands are too stiff and shaky to cook. Her eye sight is so +bad she cannot clean her room. Two WPA county visitors, girls, bathe her +at intervals. + +"I was born between Jackson and Brandon. Sure I was born down in +Mississippi. My mother's name they tole me was Rosie. She died when I +was a baby. My father named Richard Chamber. They called him Dick. He +was killed direckly after the war by a white man. He was a Rebel scout. +The man named Hodge. I seed him. He shot my father. Them questions been +called over to me so much I most forgot 'em. Well some jes' lack 'em. My +father's master was Hal Chambers and his wife Virginia. Recken I do +'member the Ku Klux. They scared me to death. I go under the bed every +time when I see them about. Then was when my father was killed. He went +off with a crowd of white men. They said they was Rebel scouts. All I +know I never seed him no more since that evening. They killed him across +the line, not far from Mississippi. Chambers had two or three farms. I +was on the village farm. I had one brother. Chambers sent him to the +salt works and I never seed him no more. I was a orphant. + +"Chambers make you work. I worked in the field. I come wid a crowd to +Helena. I come on a boat. I been a midwife to black and white. I used to +cook some. I am master hand at ironin'. I have no children as I knows +of. I never born none. I help raise some. I come on a fine big steamboat +wid a crowd of people. I married in Arkansas. My husband died ten or +twelve years ago. I forgot which years it was. I been livin' in this +bery house seben years. + +"The Government give me $10 a month. I would wash dishes but I can't see +'bout gettin' 'round no more. + +"Don't ax me 'bout the young niggers. They too fast fo me. If I see 'em +they talkin' a passel of foolish talk. Whut I knows is times is hard wid +me shows you born. + +"You come back to see me. If you don't I wanter meet you all in heaben. +By, by, by." + + + + +Interviewer: Watt McKinney +Person interviewed: Dock Wilborn + A mile or so from Marvell, Arkansas +Age: 95 + + +Dock Wilborn was born a slave near Huntsville, Alabama on January 7, +1843, the property of Dan Wilborn who with his three brothers, Elias, +Sam, and Ike, moved to Arkansas and settled near Marvell in Phillips +County about 1855. + +According to "Uncle Dock" the four Wilborn brothers each owning more +than one hundred slaves acquired a large body of wild, undeveloped land, +divided this acreage between them and immediately began to erect +numerous log structures for housing themselves, their Negroes, and their +stock, and to deaden the timber and clear the land preparatory to +placing their crops the following season. The Wilborns arrived in +Arkansas in the early fall of the year and for several months they +camped, living in tents until such time that they were able to complete +the erection of their residences. Good, substantial, well constructed +and warm cabins were built in which to house the slaves, much better +buildings "Uncle Dock" says than those in which the average Negro +sharecropper lives today on Southern cotton plantations. And these +Negroes were given an abundance of the same wholesome food as that +prepared for the master's family in the huge kettles and ovens of the +one common kitchen presided over by a well-trained and competent cook +and supervised by the wife of the master. + +During the period of slavery the more apt and intelligent among those of +the younger Negroes were singled out and given special training for +those places in which their talents indicated they would be most useful +in the life of the plantation. Girls were trained in housework, cooking, +and in the care of children while boys were taught blacksmithing, +carpentrying, and some were trained for personal servants around the +home. Some were even taught to read and to write when it was thought +that their later positions would require this learning. + +According to "Uncle Dock" Wilborn, slaves were allowed to enjoy many +pleasures and liberties thought by many in this day, especially by the +descendants of these slaves, not to have been accorded them, were +entirely free of any responsibility aside from the performance of their +alloted labors and speaking from his own experience received kind and +just treatment at the hands of their masters. + +The will of the master was the law of the plantation and prompt +punishment was administered for any violation of established rules and +though a master was kind, he was of necessity invariably firm in the +administration of his government and in the execution of his laws. +Respect and obedience was steadfastly required and sternly demanded, +while indolence and disrespect was neither tolerated or permitted. + +In refutation to often repeated expressions and beliefs that slaves were +cruelly treated, provided with insufficient food and apparel and +subjected to inhuman punishment, it is pointed out by ex-slaves +themselves that they were at that time very valuable property, worth on +the market no less than from one thousand to fifteen hundred dollars +each for a healthy, grown Negro and that it is unreasonable to suppose +that these slaveowners did not properly safeguard their investments with +the befitting care and attention such valuable property demanded or that +these masters would by rule or action bring about any condition +adversely effecting the health, efficiency or value of their slaves. + +The spiritual and religious needs of the slaves received the attention +of the same minister who attended the like needs of the master and his +family, and services were often conducted on Sunday afternoons +exclusively for them at which times the minister exhorted his +congregation to live lives of righteousness and to be at all times +obedient, respectful and dutiful servants in the cause of both their +earthly and heavenly masters. + +In the days of slavery, on occasion of the marriage of a couple in which +the participants were members of slave-owning families, it was the +custom for the father of each to provide the young couple with several +Negroes, the number of course depending on the relative wealth or +affluence of their respective families. It seems, however, that no less +than six or eight grown slaves were given in most instances as well as a +like number of children from two to four years of age. This provision on +the part of the parents of the newly-wedded pair was for the purpose as +"Uncle Dock" expressed it to give them a "start" of Negroes. The +children were not considered of much value at such an age and the young +master and his wife found themselves possessed with the responsibility +attached to their proper care and rearing until such time as they +reached the age at which they could perform some useful labor. These +responsibilities were bravely accepted and such children received the +best of care and attention, being it is said often kept in a room +provided for than in the master's own house where their needs could be +administered to under the watchful eye and supervision of their owners. +The food given these young children according to informants consisted +mainly of a sort of gruel composed of whole milk and bread made of whole +wheat flour which was set before them in a kind of trough and from which +they ate with great relish and grew rapidly. + +Slaveowners, as a rule, arranged for their Negroes to have all needed +pleasure and enjoyment, and in the late summer after cultivation of the +crops was complete it was the custom for a number of them to give a +large barbecue for their combined groups of slaves, at which huge +quantities of beef and pork were served and the care-free hours given +over to dancing and general merry-making. "Uncle Dock" recalls that his +master, Dan Wilborn, who was a good-natured man of large stature, +derived much pleasure in playing his "fiddle" and that often in the +early summer evenings he would walk down to the slave quarters with his +violin remarking that he would supply the music and that he wished to +see his "niggers" dance, and dance they would for hours and as much to +the master's own delight and amusement as to theirs. + +Dock Wilborn's "pappy" Sam was in some respects disobedient, prompted +mainly so it seems by his complete dislike for any form of labor and +which Dan Wilborn due to their mutual affection appeared to tolerate for +long periods or until such time that his patience was exhausted when he +would then apply his lash to Sam a few times and often after these +periodical punishments Sam would escape to the dense forests that +surrounded the plantation where he would remain for days or until +Wilborn would enlist the aid of Nat Turner and his hounds and chase the +Negro to bay and return him to his home. + +"Uncle Dock" Wilborn and his wife "Aunt Becky" are among the oldest +citizens of Phillips County and have been married for sixty-seven years. +Dan Wilborn performed their marriage ceremony. The only formality +required in uniting them as man and wife was that each jump over a broom +that had been placed on the floor between them. This old couple are the +parents of four children, the eldest of whom is now sixty-three. They +live alone in a small white-washed cabin only a mile or so from Marvell +being supported only by a small pension they receive each month from the +Social Security Board. They have a garden and a few chickens and a hog +or two and are happy and content as they dip their snuff and recall +those days long past during which they both contend that life was at its +best, "Aunt Becky" is religious and a staunch believer, a long-time +member of Mount Moriah Baptist Church while "Uncle Dock" who has never +been affiliated with any religious organization is yet as he terms +himself "a sinner man" and laughingly remarks that he is going to ride +into Heaven on "Aunt Becky's" ticket to which comment she promptly +replies that her ticket is good for only one passage and that if he +hopes to get there he must arrange for one of his own. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Bell Wilks, Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"I was raised in Pulaski, Tennessee, Giles County. The post office was +at one end of the town, bout half mile was the church down at the other +end. Yes'm, that way Pulaski looked when I lived there. My father's +master was Peter or Jerry Garn--I don't know which. They brothers? +Yes'm. + +"My mother's master was John Wilks and Miss Betty. Mama's name was +Callie Wilks and papa's name was Freeman. Mama had seven children. She +was a field hand. She said all on their place could do nearly anything. +They took turns cooking. Seems like it was a week about they took +milkin', doin' house work, field work, and she said sometimes they +sewed. + +"Father told my mother one day he was going to the Yankees. She didn't +want him to go much. He went. They mustered out drilling one day. He had +to squat right smart. He saw some cattle in the distance looked like +army way off. He fell dead. They said it was heart disease. They brought +him home and some of dem stood close to him drillin' told her that was +way it happened. + +"The man what owned my mother was sorter of a Yankee hisself. We all +stayed till he wound up the crop. He sold his place and went to Collyoka +on the L. and N. Railway. He give us two and one-half bushels corn, +three bushels wheat, and some meat at the very first of freedom. When it +played out we went and he give us more long as he stayed there. + +"When mama left she went to a new sorter mill town and cooked there till +1869. She carried me to a young woman to nurse for her what she nursed +at Mostor Wilks befo freedom. I stayed wid her till 1876. I sure does +remember dem dates. (laughed) + +"Yes'm, I was nursin' for Dr. Rothrock when that Ku Klux scare was all +bout. They coma to our house huntin' a boy. They didn't find him. I +cover up my head when they come bout our house. Some folks they scared +nearly to death. I bein' in a strange place don't know much bout what +all I heard they done. + +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for, let people vote know how. + +"I get bout $8 and some commodities. It sure do help me out too. I tell +you it sure do." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Bell Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 85 + + +"We was owned by Master Rucker. It seems I was about ten years old when +the Civil War started. It seems like a dream to me now. Mother was a +weaver. They said she was a fine weaver. She wove for all on the place +and some special pieces of cloth for outsiders. She wove woolen cloth +too. I don't know whether they paid for the extra weaving or not. People +didn't look on money like they do now. They was free with one another +about eating and visiting and work too when a man got behind with the +work. The fields get gone in the grass. Sometimes they would be sick or +it rained too much. The neighbor would send all his slaves to work till +they caught up and never charge a cent. I don't hear about people doing +that way now. + +"My parents was named Clinton and Billy Bell. There was nine of us +children. + +"I never seen nobody sold. Mother was darker. Papa was light--half +white. They didn't talk in front of children about things and I never +did know. I've wondered. + +"After freedom my folks stayed on at Master Rucker's. I got to be a +midwife. I nursed and was a house girl after the war. Then the doctors +got to sending for me to nurse and I got to be a midwife. + +"My father was a good Bible scholar. He preached all around +Murfreesboro, Tennessee. He was a Methodist. He died when he was +seventy-seven years old. He had read the Bible through seventy-seven +times--one time for every year old he was." + + + + +Mrs. Mildred Thompson +Mrs. Carol Graham +El Dorado District +Federal Writers Project +Union County, Arkansas + + +Charley Williams, Ex-slave. "Mawnin' Missy. Yo say wha Aint Fanny Whoolah +live? She live right down de road dar in dat fust house. Yas'm. Dat wha +she live. Yo say whut mah name? Mah name is Charley. Yas'm, Charley +Williams. Did ah live in slavery time? Yas'm sho' did. Mah marster wuz +Dr. Reed Williams and he live at Kew London (SE part of Union County) or +ah speck ah bettuh say near New London caise he live on de Mere-Saline +Road, de way de soldiers went and come. Marster died befo' de Civil Wah. +Does ah membah hit? Yas'm ah say ah does. Ah wuz bo'n in 1856. Mah ole +mutha died befo' de wah too. Huh name wuz Charity. Mah young marster +went tuh de wah an come back. He fit at Vicksburg an his name wuz Bennie +Williams. But he daid now tho. Dere was a hep uv dem white William +Chillun. Dere wuz Miss Narcissi an she am a livin now at Stong. Den +dere's Mr. Charley. Ah wuz named fuh him. He am a livin now too. Den +dere is Mr. Race Williams. He am a livin at Strong too. Dere wuz Miss +Annie, Miss Martha Jane and Miss Madie. Dey is all daid. When young +marster would come by home or any uv de udder soldiers us little niggers +would steal de many balls (bullets or shot) fum dey saddul bags and play +wid em. Ah nevah did see so many soldiers in mah life. Hit looked tuh me +like dey wuz enough uv em to reach clear cross de United States. An ah +nevah saw de like uv cows as they had. Dey wuz nuff uv em to rech clar +to Camden. + +Is ah evah been mahried and does ah have any chillun? Yes'm. Yas'm. Ah's +been mahried three times. Me an mah fust wife had seven chillun. When we +had six chillun me and mah wife moved tuh Kansas. We had only been der +23 days when mah wife birthed a chile and her an de chile both died. Dat +left me wid Carey Dee, Lizzie, Arthur, Richmond, Ollie and Lillie to +bring back home. Ah mahried agin an me an dat wife had one chile name +Robert. Me an mah third wife has three: Joe Verna, Lula Mae an Johnnie +B. + +Is dey hents? Ah've hearn tell uv em but nevah have seed no hants. One +uv mah friens whut lived on the Hommonds place at Hillsboro could see +em. His name wuz Elliott. One time me an Elliott wuz drivin along an +Elliott said: "Charley, somebody got hole uv mah horse!" Sho nuff dat +horse led right off inter de woods an comminced to buckin so Elliott and +his hoss both saw de haint but ah couldn' see hit. Yo know some people +jes caint see em. + +Yas'm right up dere is wha Aint Fannie live. Yas'm. Goodday Missy." + + +FOLK CUSTOMS + +We found Fannie Wheeler at home but not an ex-slave. She was making a +bedspread of tobacco sacks. + +"Yas'm chillun ah'm piecing mahsef a bedspraid from dese heah backy +sacks. Yas'm dey sho does make er nice spraid. See dat'n on mah baid. +Aint hit purty. Hit wuz made fum backy sacks. Don yo all think dat +yaller bodah (border) set hit off purty? Ah'm aimin to bodah dis'n wid +pink er blue. + +What am dat up dar in dat picture frame? Why dat am plaits of har +(hair). Hits uv mah kin and frien's. When we would move way off dey +would cut off a plait and give hit tuh us tuh membah dem by. Mos' uv dem +is daid now but ah still membahs dem and ah kin name evah plait now." + +We were told that Sallie Sims was an old negress and went to see her she +was not an ex-slave either but she told us an interesting little story +about + + +HAINTS and BODY MARKS + +"No'm, ah'm purty ole but ah wuz bo'n aftuh surrender. Is ah evah seen a +hant? Now ah nevah did but once and mah ma said dat wuz a hant. Ah wuz +out in de woods waukin (walking) an ah saw sumpin dat looked lak a +squirrel start up a tree and de fudder up hit got the bigger hit got an +hit wuz big as a bear when hit got to de top and ma said dat hit was a +haint. Dat is de only time ah evah seed one. + +Now mah granchillun can all see hants and mah little great gran' chile +too. An evah one uv dem wuz bo'n wid a veil ovah dey face. Now when a +chile is bo'n wid a veil ovah his face--if de veil is lifted up de sho +can see hants and see evah thing but if'n de veil is pulled down stid up +bein lifted up de won't see em. After de veil is pulled down an taken +off, wrap hit up in a tissue paper and put hit in de trunk and let hit +stay dar till hit disappear and de chile won't nevah see hants. Mah +grandaughter what lives up north in Missouri come down heah to visit mah +son's fambly an me ah an brang huh li'l boy wid huh. Dat chile is bout +seben years ole an dat chile could see hants all in de house an he +wouldn' go tuh baid till his gran'pappy come home an went tuh baid wid +him." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person Interviewed: Charlie Williams + Brassfield; Ark. +Age: 73 + + +"I was born four miles from Holly Springs, Mississippi. My parents was +named Patsy and Tom Williams. They had twenty children. Nat Williams and +Miss Carrie Williams owned them both. They had four children. + +"At freedom he was nice as could be--wanted em to stay on with him and +they did. He didn't whip em. They liked that in him. His wife was dead +and he come out to Arkansas with us. He died at Lonoke--Mr. Tom Williams +at Lonoke. + +"I farmed nearly all my life. I worked on a steamboat on White River +five or six years--_The Ralph_. + +"I never saw a Ku Klux. Mr. Williams kept us well protected. + +"My mother's mother couldn't talk plain. My mother talked tolerably +plain. She was a 'Molly Glaspy' woman. My father had a loud heavy voice; +you could hear him a long ways off. + +"I have no home. I am a widower. I have no land. I get a small check and +commodities. + +"I vote. I haven't voted in a long time. I'm not educated to know how +that would serve us best." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Columbus Williams + Temporary: 2422 Howard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas + Permanent: Box 12, Route 2, Ouachita County, Stevens, Arkansas +Age: 98 + + +"I was born in Union County, Arkansas, in 1841, in Mount Holly. + +"My mother was named Clora Tookes. My father's name is Jordan Tookes. +Bishop Tookes is supposed to be a distant relative of ours. I don't know +my mother and father's folks. My mother and father were both born in +Georgia. They had eight children. All of them are dead now but me. I am +the only one left. + +"Old Ben Heard was my master. He come from Mississippi, and brought my +mother and father with him. They were in Mississippi as well as in +Georgia, but they were born in Georgia. Ben Heard was a right mean man. +They was all mean 'long about then. Heard whipped his slaves a lot. +Sometimes he would say they wouldn't obey. Sometimes he would say they +sassed him. Sometimes he would say they wouldn't work. He would tie them +and stake them out and whip them with a leather whip of some kind. He +would put five hundred licks on them before he would quit. He would buy +the whip he whipped them with out of the store. After he whipped them, +they would put their rags on and go on about their business. There +wouldn't be no such thing as medical attention. What did he care. He +would whip the women the same as he would the men. + +"Strip 'em to their waist and let their rags hang down from their hips +and tie them down and lash them till the blood ran all down over their +clothes. Yes sir, he'd whip the women the same as he would the men. + +"Some of the slaves ran away, but they would catch them and bring them +back, you know. Put the dogs after them. The dogs would just run them up +and bay them just like a coon or 'possum. Sometimes the white people +would make the dogs bite them. You see, when the dogs would run up on +them, they would sometimes fight them, till the white people got there +and then the white folks would make the dogs bite them and make them +quit fighting the dogs. + +"One man run off and stayed twelve months once. He come back then, and +they didn't do nothin' to him. 'Fraid he'd run off again, I guess. + +"We didn't have no church nor nothing. No Sunday-schools, no nothin'. +Worked from Monday morning till Saturday night. On Sunday we didn't do +nothin' but set right down there on that big plantation. Couldn't go +nowhere. Wouldn't let us go nowhere without a pass. They had the +paterollers out all the time. If they caught you out without a pass, +they would give you twenty-five licks. If you outrun them and got home, +on your master's plantation, you saved yourself the whipping. + +"The black people never had no amusement. They would have an old +fiddle--something like that. That was all the music I ever seen. +Sometimes they would ring up and play 'round in the yard. I don't +remember the games. Sing some kind of old reel song. I don't hardly +remember the words of any of them songs. + +"Wouldn't allow none of them to have no books nor read nor nothin'. +Nothin' like that. They had corn huskin's in Mississippi and Georgia, +but not in Arkansas. Didn't have no quiltin's. Women might quilt some at +night. Didn't have nothin' to make no quilts out of. + +"The very first work I did was to nurse babies. After that when I got a +little bigger they carried me to the field--choppin' cotton. Then I went +to picking cotton. Next thing--pullin' fodder. Then they took me from +that and put me to plowin', clearin' land, splittin' rails. I believe +that is about all I did. You worked from the time you could see till the +time you couldn't see. You worked from before sunrise till after dark. +When that horn blows, you better git out of that house, 'cause the +overseer is comin' down the line, and he ain't comin' with nothin' in +his hand. + +"They weighed the rations out to the slaves. They would give you so many +pounds of meat to each working person in the family. The children didn't +count; they didn't git none. That would have to last till next Sunday. +They would give them three pounds of meat to each workin' person, I +think. They would give 'em a little meal too. That is all they'd give +'em. The slaves had to cook for theirselves after they come home from +the field. They didn't get no flour nor no sugar nor no coffee, nothin' +like that. + +"They would give the babies a little milk and corn bread or a little +molasses and bread when they didn't have the milk. Some old person who +didn't have to go to the field would give them somethin' to eat so that +they would be out of the way when the folks come out of the field. + +"The slaves lived in old log houses--one room, one door, _one window_, +one everything. There were _plenty windows_ though. There were windows +all [HW: ?] around the house. They had cracks that let in more air than +the windows would. They had plank floors. Didn't have no furniture. The +bed would have two legs and would have a hole bored in the side of the +house where the side rail would run through and the two legs would be +out from the wall. Didn't have no springs and they made out with +anything they could git for a mattress. Master wouldn't furnish them +nothin' of that kind. + +"The jayhawkers were white folks. They didn't bother we all much. That +was after the surrender. They go 'round here and there and git after +white folks what they thought had some money and jerk them 'round. They +were jus' common men and soldiers. + +"I was not in the army in the War. I was right down here in Union County +then. I don't know just when they freed me but it was after the War was +over. The old white man call us up to the house and told us now we was +free as he was; that if we wanted to stay with him it was all right, if +we didn't and wanted to go away anywheres, we could have the privilege +to do it. + +"Marriage wasn't like now. You would court a woman and jus' go on and +marry. No license, no nothing. Sometimes you would take up with a woman +and go on with her. Didn't have no ceremony at all. I have heard of them +stepping over a broom but I never saw it. Far as I saw there was no +ceremony at all. + +"When the slaves were freed they expected to get forty acres and a mule. +I never did hear of anybody gettin' it. + +"Right after the War, I worked on a farm with Ben Heard. I stayed with +him about three years, then I moved off with some other white folks. I +worked on shares. First I worked for half and he furnished a team. Then +I worked on third and fourth and furnished my own team. I gave the owner +a third of the corn and a fourth of the cotton and kept the rest. I kept +that up several years. They cheated us out of our part. If they +furnished anything, they would sure git it back. Had everything so high +you know. I have farmed all my life. Farmed till I got so old I +couldn't. I never did own my own farm. I just continued to rent. + +"I never had any trouble about voting. I voted whenever I wanted to. I +reckon it was about three years after the War when I began to vote. + +"I never went to school. One of the white boys slipped and learned me a +little about readin' in slave time. Right after freedom come, I was a +grown man; so I had to work. I married about four or five years after +the War. I was just married once. My wife is not living now. She's gone. +She's been dead for about twelve years. + +"I belong to the A.M.E. Church and my membership is in the New Home +Church out in the country in Ouachita County." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Frank Williams + County Hospital, ward eleven, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 100, or more + + +"I'm a hundred years old. I know I'm a hundred. I know from where they +told me. I don't know when I was born. + +"I been took down and whipped many a time because I didn't do my work +good. They took my pants down and whipped me just the same as if I'd +been a dog. Sometimes they would whip the people from Saturday night +till Monday morning. + +"I run off with the Yankees. I was young then. I was in the Civil War. I +don't know how long I stayed in the army. I ain't never been back home +since. I wish I was. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back home. + +"Mississippi was my home. I come up here with the Yankees and I ain't +never been back since. Laconia, Mississippi was the place I used to be +down there. I been wanting to go home, but I couldn't git off. I want to +git you to write there for me. I belong to the Baptist church. Write to +the elders of the church. I belong to the Mission Baptist Church on the +other side of Rock Creek here. + +"They just lived in log houses in slave time. + +"I want to go back home. They made me leave Laconia. + +"Pateroles!! Oh, my God!!! I know 'nough 'bout them. Child, I've heard +'em holler, 'Run, nigger, run! The pateroles will catch you.' + +"The jayhawkers would catch people and whip them. + +"I would be back home yet if they hadn't made me come away. + +"They didn't have no church in slavery time. They jus' had to hide +around and worship God any way they could. + +"I used to live in Laconia. I ain't been back there since the war. I +want to go back to my folks." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Frank Williams is like a man suffering from amnesia. He is the first old +man that I have interviewed whose memory is so far gone. He remembers +practically nothing. He can't tell you where he was born. He can't tell +you where he lived before he came to Little Rock. Only when his +associates mention some of the things he formerly told them can he +remember that little of his past that he does state in any remote +approach to detail. + +There is a strong emotional set which relates to his slave time +experiences. The emotion surges up in his mind at any mention of slave +time matters. But only the emotion remains. The details are gone +forever. Names, times, places, happenings are gone forever. He does not +even recall the name of his father, the name of his mother, or the name +of any of his relatives or masters, or old-time friends. No single +definite thing rises above the horizon of his mind and defines itself +clearly to him. + +And always after every sentence he utters, there rises the old refrain: +"I want to go back home. I wouldn't be in this condition if I was back +home. I live in Laconia. They made me come away." And that is the +substance of the story he remembers. + + + + +Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy +Person interviewed: Gus Williams, Russellville, Arkansas +Age: 80 + + +"Was you lookin' for me t'oder day? Sure, my name's Williams--Gus +Williams--not Wilson. Dey gits me mixed up wid dat young guy, Wilson. + +"Yes, I remembers you--sure--talks to yo' brother sometimes. + +"I was born in Chatham County, Georgia--Savannah is de county seat. My +marster's name was Jim Williams. Never seen my daddy cause de Yankees +carried him away durin' de War, took him away to de North. Old marster +was good to his slaves, I was told, but don't ricollect anything about +em. Of course I was too young. Was born on Christmas day, 1857--but I +don't see anything specially interestin' in bein' a Christmas present; +never got me nothin', and never will. + +"Was workin' on WPA--this big Tech. buildin'--but got laid off t'other +day. + +"My mamma brought us to Arkansas in 1885, but we stopped and lived for +several years in Tennessee. Worked for twelve years out of Memphis on +the old Anchor Line steamboats on de Mississippi, runnin' from St. Louis +to N'Orleans. Plenty work in dem days. + +"No, I ain't voted in a long time; can't afford to vote because I never +have the dollar. No dollar--no vote. Depression done fixed my votin'. + +"Jest me and my wife, but it takes pluggin' away to get along. We +belongs to the C.M.E. Church since 1915. I was janitor at the West Ward +School for seven years, and sure liked dat job. + +"Don't ask me anything about dese boys and gals livin' today. Much +difference in dem and de young folks livin' in my time as between me and +you. No dependence to be put in em. My _estimony_ is dat de black +servants today workin' for de whites learns things from dem white girls +dat dey never knowed before, and den goes home and does things dey never +done before. + +"Don't ricollect many of de old-time songs, but one was somep'n +like--"Am I Born to Die?" And--oh, yes,--lots of times we sung 'Amazin' +Grace, how sweet de soun' dat saves a _race_ like me.' + +"No suh, I ain't got no education--never had a chance to git one." + + +NOTE: The underscored words are actual quotations. "Estimony" for +"opinion" was a characteristic in Gus' vocabulary; "race" for the +original "wretch" in the song may have been a general error in some +local congregations. + + + + +Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson +Person interviewed: Henrietta Williams + B. Avenue, El Dorado, Arkansas +Age: About 82 + + +"I am about 82 years old. I was born in Georgia down in the cotton +patch. I did not know much about slavery, for I was raised in the white +folks' house, and my old mistress called me her little nigger, and she +didn't allow me to be whipped and drove around. I remember my old master +whipped me one time and old mistress fussed with him so much he never +did whip me any more. + +"I never had to get out and do any real hard work until I was nearly +grown. My mother did not have but one child. My father was sold from my +mother when I was about two years old and he was carried to Texas and I +did not see him any more until I was 35 years old. So my mother married +again when she was set free. I didn't stay with my mother very much. She +stayed off in a little log house with a dirt floor, and she cooked on +the fireplace with a skillet and lid, and the house had one window with +a shutter. She had to cut logs and roll them like a man and split rails +and plow. I would sometimes ask old mistress to let me go out where my +mother was working to see her plow and when I got to be a big girl about +nine years she began learning me how to plow. + +"I often told the niggers the white folks raised me. The niggers tell +me, 'Yes, the white folks raise you but the niggers is going to kill +you.' + +"After freedom my mistress and master moved to Louisiana. They farmed. +They owned a big plantation. I did the housework. + +"The biggest snow I remember was the big centennial snow. Oh, that's +been years ago. The snow was so deep you couldn't get out of the house. +The boys had to take the shovel and the hoe and keep the snow raked away +from around the door. + +"There was a big old oak tree that stood in the corner of the yard. +People say that tree was a hundred years old. We could not get no wood, +so master had the boys to cut the big old oak tree for wood. + +"Rabbits had a scant time. The boys would go out and track six or eight +rabbits at a time. We had rabbits of all descriptions. We had rabbits +for breakfast, rabbits for dinner, rabbits for supper time. We had fried +rabbits, baked rabbits, stewed rabbits, boiled rabbits. Had rabbits, +rabbits, rabbits the whole six or eight weeks the snow stayed on the +ground. + +"I remember when I was about twelve years old a woman had two small +children. She went away from home and for fear that the children would +get hurt on the outside she put them in the house and locked the door. +In some way they got a match and struck it and the house caught fire. +All the neighbors were a long ways off and by the time they reched the +house it had fallen in. Finally the mother came and looked for her +children and asked the neighbors did they save them. They said no, they +did not know they were in the house. In fact they were too late anyway. +So the fire was still hot and they had to wait for the ashes to cool and +when the ashes got cool they went looking for the children and found the +burned buttons that were on their little clothes, so they began raking +around in the ashes and at last found each of their little hearts that +had not burned, but the little hearts were still jumping and the man who +found the hearts picked them up in his hand and stood speechless. He +became so nervous he could not move. Their little hearts just quivered. +They let their hearts lay out for a couple of days and when they buried +their hearts they was still jumpin'. That was a sad time. From that day +to this day I never lock no one up in the house." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Henry Andrew (Tip) Williams + Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: Born in 1854, 86 + + +"I was born three and one-half miles from Jackson, North Carolina. I was +born a slave. I was put to work at six years old. They started me to +cleaning off new ground. I thinned corn on my knees with my hands. We +planted six or seven acres of cotton and got four or five cents a pound. +Balance we planted was something to live on. My master was Jason and +Betsy Williams. He had a small plantation; the smaller the plantation +the better they was to their slaves. + +"Jim Johnson's farm joined. He had nine hundred ninety-nine niggers. It +was funny but every time a nigger was born one died. When he bought one +another one would die. He was noted as having nine hundred ninety-nine +niggers. It happened that way. He was rough on his place. He had a jail +on his place. It was wood but close built. Couldn't get out of there. +Put them in there and lock them up with a big padlock. He kept a male +hog in the jail to tramp and walk over them. They said they kept them +tied down in that place. Five hundred lashes and shot 'em up in jail was +light punishment. They said it was light brushing. I lived up in the +Piney Woods. It was big rich bottom plantations from Weldon Bridge to +Halifax down on the river. They was rough on 'em, killed some. No, I +never seen Jim Johnson to know him. He lived at Edenton, North Carolina. +I recollect mighty well the day he died we had a big storm, blowed down +big trees. That jail was standing when I come to Arkansas forty-seven +years ago. It was a 'Bill brew' (stocks) they put men in when they put +them in jail. Turned male hog in there for a blind. + +"Part of Jim Johnson's overseers was black and part white. Hatterway was +white and Nat was black. They was the head overseers and both bad men. I +could hear them crying way to our place early in the morning and at +night. + +"Lansing Kahart owned grandma when I was a little boy. + +"They took hands in droves one hundred fifty miles to Richmond to sell +them. Richmond and New Orleans was the two big selling blocks. My uncle +was sold at Richmond and when I come to Arkansas he was living at +Helena. I never did get to see him but I seen his two boys. They live +down there now. I don't know how my uncle got to Helena but he was +turned loose down in this country at 'mancipation. They told me that. + +"When a man wanted a woman he went and axed the master for her and took +her on. That is about all there was to it. No use to want one of the +women on Jim Johnson's, Debrose, Tillery farms. They kept them on their +own and didn't want visitors. They was big farms. Kershy had a big farm. + +"The Yankees never went to my master's house a time. The black folks +knowd the Yankees was after freedom. They had a song no niggers ever +made up, 'I wanter be free.' + +"My master was too old to go to war but Bill went. I think it was better +times in slavery than now but I'm not in favor of bringing it back on +account of the cruelty and dividing up families. My master was good to +us. He was proud of us. We fared fine. He had a five or six horse farm. +His land wasn't strong but we worked and had plenty. Mother cooked for +white and colored. We had what they et 'cepting when company come. When +they left we got scraps. Then when Christmas come we had cakes and pies +stacked up setting about for us to cut. They cut down through a whole +stack of pies. Cut them in halves and pass them among us. We got hunks +of cake a piece. We had plain eating er plenty all the time. You see I'm +a big man. I wasn't starved out till I was about grown, after the War +was over. Times really was hard. Hard, hard times come on us all. + +"Mama got one whooping in her life. I seen that. Jason Williams whipped +only two grown folks in my life, mama and my brother. Mama sassed her +mistress or that what they called it then. Since then I've heard worse +jawing not called sassing, call it arguing now. Sassing was a bad trait +in them days. Brother was whooped in the field. He was seven years older +than me. I didn't see none of that. They talked a right smart about it. + +"The Williams was good to us all. Master's wife heired two women and a +girl. Mama cooked, ironed, and worked in the field in time of a push +(when necessary). + +"I was hauling for the Rebel soldiers one rainy evening. It was dark and +lightning every now and then. General Ransom was at the hotel porch when +Sherman turned the bend one mile to come in the town. It was about four +o'clock in the evening I judge. General Ransom's company was washing at +Boom's Mill three miles. About one thousand men was out there cooking +and in washing, resting. General Ransom went hollering, 'Yankees!' Went +to his men. They got away I reckon. Sherman killed sixty men in that +town I know. General Ransom went on his horse hollering, 'Yankees +coming!' He went to his home eight miles from there. They went on +through rough as could be. + +"I hauled when it was so dark the team had to take me in home at night. +My circuit was ten miles a day. + +"My young master Bill Williams come in April soon as he got home and +told us we was free but didn't have to leave. We stayed on and worked. +He said he had nothing but the land and we had nothing. At the end of +the year he paid off in corn and a little money. Us boys left then and +mother followed us about. We ain't done no better since then. We didn't +go far off. + +"Forty-seven years ago I went to Weldon, North Carolina in a wagon, took +the train to Gettysburg and from there come to Biscoe, Arkansas. I been +about here ever since. Mr. Biscoe paid our way. We worked three years to +pay him back. I cleared good money since I cone out here. I had cattle I +owned and three head of horses all my own. Age crept up on me. I can't +work to do much good now. I gets six dollars--Welfare money. + +"Times is a puzzle to me. I don't know what to think. Things is got all +wrong some way but I don't know whether it will get straightened out or +not. Folks is making the times. It's the folks cause of all this good or +bad. People not as good as they was forty years ago. They getting +greedy." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: James Williams, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 72 + + +"I come from close to Montgomery, Alabama. Man named John G. Elliott +sent and got a number famlees to work his land. He was the richest man +in them parts round Fryers Point, Mississippi. I was born after the +Civil War. They used to say we what was raisin' up havin' so much easier +time an what they had in slavery times. That all old folks could talk +about. Said the onlies time the slaves had to comb their hair was on +Sunday. They would comb and roll each others hair and the men cut each +others hair. That all the time they got. They would roll the childerns +hair or keep it cut short one. Saturday mornin' was the time the men had +to curry and trim up the horses and mules. Clean out the lot and stalls. +The women would sweep and scour the floors for Sunday. + +"I haven't voted for a long time. It used to be some fun votin'. Din in +Mississippi the whites vote one way and us the other. My father was a +Republican. I was too. + +"I have cataracts growing on my eyes. That hinders my work now. I got a +little garden. It help out. I ain't got no propety no kind. + +"The young folks seem happy. I guess they gettin' long fine. Some folks +jes' lucky bout gettin' ahead and stayin' ahead. I can't tell no moren +nothin' how times goiner serve this next generation they changein' all +time seems lack. If the white folks don't know what goiner become of the +next generation, they need not be asking a fellow lack me. I wish I did +know. + +"I ain't been on the PWA. I don't git no help ceptin' when I can work a +little for myself." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: John Williams + County Hospital, ward 11, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 75 + + +"I was born in 1863 in Texas right in the city of Dallas right in the +heart of the town. After the War our owners brought us back to Little +Rock. That is where they left from. They left here on account of the +War. They run off their slaves to keep the Yankees from freeing them. +All the old masters were dead. But the young ones were Louis Fletcher, +John Fletcher, Dick Fletcher, Jeff Fletcher, and Len Fletcher. Five +brothers of them. Their home was here in Little Rock. The War was going +on. It went on four years and prior to the end of it I was born. + +"My mother's name was Mary Williams. My father's name was John Williams. +I was named after him. + +"It is funny how they changed their names. Now, his name was John Scott +before he went into the army. But after he went in, they changed his +name into John Williams. + +"His master's name was Scott but I don't know the other part of it. All +five of the brothers was named for their mother's masters. She raised +them. She always called all of them master. 'Cordin' to what I hear from +the old folks, when one of them come 'round, you better call him master. + +"In slave time, my father was a field hand, I know that. But I know more +about my mother. I heard her say she was always a cook. + +"I heard her speak about having cruel treatment from her first masters; +I don't know who they were. But after the Fletchers bought them, they +had a good time. They come all the way out of Louisiana up here. My +mother was sold from her mother and sister-sold some two or three times. +She never did get no trace of her sister, but she found her grandmother +in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and brought her here. Her sister's name was +Fannie and her grandmother's name was Crecie Lander. That is an Indian +name. I couldn't understand nothing she would say hardly. She was +bright. All my folks were bright but me. My mother had hair way down her +shoulders and you couldn't tell my uncle from a dago. My grandmother was +a regular Indian color. She spoke Indian too. You couldn't understand +nothing she said. + +"When I woke up, they had these homemade beds. I couldn't hardly +describe them, but they put the sides into the posts with legs. They +were stout things too what I am talkin' 'bout. They made cribs for us +little children and put them under the bed. They would pull the cribs +out at night and run them under the bed during the day. They called them +cribs trundles. They called them trundles because they run them under +the bed. For chairs and tables accordin' to what I heard my mother say, +she was cook and they had everything in the big house and et pretty much +what the white folks et. But we just had boxes in the cabins. + +"Them that was in the white folks' house had pretty good meals, but them +that was in the field they would feed just about like they would the +hogs. They had little wooden trays and they would put little fat meat +and pot-liquor and corn bread in the tray, and hominy and such as that. +Biscuits came just on Sunday. + +"They had old ladies to cook for the slave children and old ladies to +cook for the hands. What was in the big house stayed in the big house. +All the slave men ate in one place and all the slave women ate in one +place. They weren't supposed to have any food in their homes unless they +would go out foraging. Sometimes they would get it that way. They'd go +out and steal ol' master's sweet potatoes and roast them in the fire. +They'd go out and steal a hog and kill it. All of it was theirn; they +raised it. They wasn't to say stealin' it; they just went out and got +it. If old master caught them, he'd give 'em a little brushin' if he +thought they wouldn't run off. Lots of times they would run off, and if +he thought they'd run off because they got a whippin', he was kinda slow +to catch 'em. If one run off, he'd tell the res', 'If you see so and so, +tell 'im to come on back. I ain't goin' to whip 'im.' If he couldn't do +nothin' with 'em, he'd sell 'em. I guess he would say to hisself, 'I +can't do nothin' with this nigger. If I can't do nothing with 'im, I'll +sell him and git my money outa him.' + +"I have heard my mother say that some of the slaves that ran away would +get destroyed by the wild animals and some of them would even be glad to +come back home. Right smart of them got clean away and went to free +states. + +"After the War was over, they all was brought back here and the owners +let them know they was free. They had to let them know they were free. I +never heard my mother tell the details. I never heard her say just who +brought her word or how it was told to her when they was freed. + +"I never heard her say much about the church because she was a sinner. +After they was freed, I would go many a night and set down in a corner +where they was having a big dance. + +"The pateroles and jayhawkers were bad. Many of them got hurt too. They +tried to hurt the niggers and sometimes the niggers hurt them. + +"Right after the War, my folks farmed for a living. They farmed on +shares. They didn't have nothing of their own. They never did get +nothing out of their work. I know they didn't get a thing. They farmed +at first about seven miles out from Little Rock, below Fourche Dam on +the Fletcher place. There ain't but one of the Fletchers living now, and +that is Molly Daniels. She is old Louis Fletcher's daughter. All their +brothers is dead. She's owning all the land now we used to till. It's +over a thousand acres. She [HW: mother] stayed down there for about +twenty or thirty years. Then she moved here to town. Here she cooked for +white folks. My mother died about forty years ago--forty-two or three +years; she's been dead sometime. My wife has been dead now for twelve +years. + +"I didn't get but a little schooling, for my father used to send me +after the mules. One day the wheelbarrow had a load of bricks on it. It +was upset. They had histed the bricks up on a high platform. It turned +over as I was passing underneath, and one fell on me and struck my head. +It was a long time after that before they would let me go to school +again. After that I never got used to studying any more. + +"My first teacher was Lottie Andrews (Charlotte Stephens). I had some +more teachers too. Lemme see--Professor Fish was a white man. We had +colored teachers under him. Then we had R.B. White. He was Reuben +White's brother. R.B. White's wife was a teacher. Professor Fish was the +superintendent. There ain't no truth to the tale that Reuben White was +put in a coffin before he was dead. Reuben White built the First Baptist +Church here and Milton White built a big church in Helena. They were +brothers. Them was two sharp darkies. + +"When I first started working, I drove teams. I raised crops a while and +farmed. Then I left the country and come to town and got up to be a +quarry man for years. Then I quit that and went to driving teams for the +Merchant Transfer Company for years. Then I quit that and run on the +road--the Mountain--for four years. Then I taken a coal chute on the +Rock Island and run it for four years. Then I quit and went to working +as an all-'round man in the shop. I stayed with them about nine years. +Then I taken down in the shape that I am now. + +"I have been out here to this hospital for twenty-four years going on +twenty-five. Been down so that I couldn't hit a lick of work for +twenty-five years. I have been in this building for eleven years. I get +along tolerable fair. As the old man says, we can just live. + +"I think the young people are going wild and if something isn't done to +head them off pretty soon, they'll go too far. They ain't looking at +what's going on up the road; they just call theirselves having a good +time. They ain't looking to have nothing. They ain't looking to be +nothing. They ain't looking to get nothing for the future. Don't know +what they would do if they had to work part of the time for nothing like +we did. I see men working now for ten dollars a month. I could take a +fishing line and go fishing and beat that when I was young. Times is +getting back almost as hard as they used to be. + +"I am a Christian. I belong to Shiloh Baptist Church in North Little +Rock. I helped build that church. Brother Hawkins was the pastor." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Lillie Williams, Madison, Arkansas +Age: 69 + + +"I was born some place down in Mississippi. My papa's papa come from +Georgia. He had a tar kiln; he cut splinters put them on it. It would +smoke blackest smoke and drip for a week. He used it to grease the hubs +of the wagons. We drunk pine tar tea for coughs. He split rails, made +boards and shingles all winter. He had a draw-knife, a mall and wedges +to use in his work. He learned that where he come from in Georgia. He +sold boards, pailings when I can recollects. Grandma made tallow candles +for everybody on our place in the fall when they killed the first +yearling. They cooked up beeswax when they robbed bees. When I was a +child I picked up pine knots for torches to quilt and knit by. We raised +everything we lived on. I pulled sage grass to cure for brooms. Grandpa +planted some broom corn and we swept the yards and lots with brooms made +out of brush. + +"Grandma kept a barrel to make locust and persimmon beer in. We dried +apples and peaches all summer and put chinaberry seed 'mongst them to +keep out worms. + +"If we rode to church, it was in a steer wagon (ox wagon). Our oxen +named Buck, Brandy Barley. + +"Grandma raised me, two more girls, and a boy. Mama worked out. Our pa +died. Mama worked 'mongst the white folks. Grandma was old-timey. She +made our dresses to pick cotton in every summer. They was hot and +stubby. They looked pretty. We was proud of them. Mama washed and +ironed. She kept us clean, too. Grandma made us card and spin. I never +could learn to spin but I was a good knitter. I could reel. I did love +to hear it crack. That was a cut. We had a winding blade. We would fill +the quills for our grandma to weave. Grandma was mighty quiet and +particular. She come from Kenturkey. We all ploughed. I've ploughed and +ploughed. + +"I had three little children to raise and now I have nine grandchildren. +I got five here now to look after when their mother is out at work. I +have worked. We farmed in 1923 up till 1931 and got this house paid out. +(Fairly good square-boxed, unpainted house--ed.) + +"My mother-in-law was sold in Aberdeen, Mississippi on a tall stump. She +clem up a ladder. Her ma was at the sale and said she was awful uneasy. +But she was sold to folks close by. She could go to see her. + +"Freedom come on. The colored folks slip about from place to place and +whisper, 'We goiner be set free.' I think my mama left at freedom and +come to twenty or twenty-two miles from Oxford, Mississippi. I don't +know where I was born. But in Mississippi somewheres. + +"There is something wrong about the way we are doing somehow. It is from +hand to mouth. We buys too many paper sacks. They say work is hard to +get. One thing now didn't used to be, you have to show the money before +you can buy a thing. Seem like we all gone money crazy. Automobiles and +silk stockings done ruined us all. White folks ought to straighten this +out." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Mary Williams, Clarendon, Arkansas +Age: Born 1872 +Light color + + +"My father was a slavery man two and one-half miles from Somerville, +Tennessee. Colonel Rivers owned him. Argile Rivers was papa's name. + +"He went to war. His job was hauling food to the soldiers. He lay out in +the woods getting to his soldiers with provisions. He'd run hide under +the feed wagon from the shot. Him and old master would be together +sometimes. His master died, or was hurt and died after the War a long +while. + +"He said his master was good to him all time. They had to work hard. He +raised one boy and me." + + + + +[HW: Ex-slave] + +Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson +Subject: Ex-Slave--Herbs "Hant" experiences +Story:--Information + +This information given by: Mary Williams +Place of residence: Hazen, Arkansas +Occupation: Field Worker +Age: 69 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +Mary Williams mother's name was Mariah and before she married her master +forced her to go wrong and she had a son by him. They all called him Jim +Rob. He was a mulatta. Then Mariah married Williams on General Garretts +farm. The Rob Roy farm and the Garrett farm joined. Mary was born at Rob +Roy, Arkansas near Humphrey. Mary said the master married her mother and +father after her mother was stood up on a stump and auctioned off. Her +mother was a house girl. Soon there were rumors of freedom but their +family lived on where they were. Her father said when he was a boy he +attended the draw bars and met the old master to get a ride up behind +him. + +Once when her father was real small he was eating biscuit with a hole in +it made by a grown person sticking finger down in it, then fill the hole +with molasses. That was a rarity they had just cooked molasses. He was +sitting in front of the fire place. Big White Bobby stuck his nose and +mouth to take a bite of his bread. He picked the cat up and threw it in +the fire. The cat ran out, smutty, just flying. The old mistress came in +there and got after him about throwing the cat in the fire. + +One time when my father was going to see my mother. Before they got +married, across the field. He had a bag of potatoes. He felt something, +felt like some one had caught his bag and was pulling him back. He was +much off a man and thought he could whip nearly every body around but he +was too scared to run and couldn't hardly get away. + + * * * * * + +Mary's mother, Mariah two children had been gone off. They were coming +in on the boat some time in the night. The master sent two of the big +boys down to build a fire and wait at the landing till they came. They +went in the wagon. There was an old empty house up on the hill. So they +went up there and built a fire and put their quilts down for pallets by +the fire place. They heard hants outside, they peeped out the log +cracks. They saw something white out there all the doors were buttoned +and propped. When the boat came it blew and blew. The master wondered +what in the world was the matter down there. The captian said he hated +to put them out and nobody to meet them. It was after midnight. So some +of the boat crew built them a fire and next morning when they got up on +the hill they noticed somebody asleep as they peeped through the cracks +and called them. Saw their wagon and knew it too. They said they was +afraid of them hants around the house, too afraid to go down to the boat +landing if they did hear the boat. Hants can't be seen in daytime only +by people "what born with veils over their faces." + +Her father was going to mill to have corn ground. It was before day +light. He was driving an ox wagon. + +In front of him he saw a sweet maple limb moving up and down over the +road in front of him. He went on and the ox butted and kicked at it and +it followed them nearly to the mill. It sounded like somebody crying. It +turned and went back still crying. Her father said there were hants up +in the tree and cut the limb off and followed him carrying it between +themselves so he couldn't see what they looked like. + + * * * * * + +It is a sign of death for a hoot owl to come hollow in your yard. + + * * * * * + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mary Williams + 409 North Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 82 + + +"Yes mam, I sure would be glad to talk to you 'bout slavery times. I can +sure tell about it--I certainly can, lady. + +"I am so proud 'bout my white folks 'cause they learned me how to work +and tell the truth. I had a good master and mistress. Yes'm, I sure did. + +"I was borned in middle Georgia and I just love the name of Georgia. I +was the second born of 'leven children and they is all dead 'cept +me--I'm the only one left to tell the tale. + +"When the ginnin' started I was always glad 'cause I could ride the +crank they had the mules hitched to. And then after the cotton was +ginned they took it to the press and you could hear that screw go +z-m-m-m and dreckly that 'block and tickle' come down. Yes mam, I sure +did have good times. + +"You ain't never seen a spinnin' wheel has you? Well, I used to card and +spin. I never did weave but I hope dye the hanks. They weaved it into +cloth and called it muslin. + +"I can 'member all I want to 'bout the war. I 'member when the Yankees +come through Georgia. I walked out in the yard with 'em and my white +people just as scared of 'em as they could be. I heered the horses feet, +then the drums, and then 'bout twenty-five or thirty bugles. I was so +amazed when the Yankees come. I heered their songs but I couldn't +'member 'em. + +"One thing I 'member jest as well as if 'twas this mornin'. That was the +day young master Henry Lee went off to war. Elisha Pearman hired him to +go and told him that when the war ceasted he would give him two or three +darkies and let him marry his daughter. Young master Henry (he was just +eighteen) he say he goin' to take old Lincoln the first thing and swing +him to a limb and let him play around awhile and then shoot his head +off. But I 'member the morning old mistress got a letter that told how +young master Henry was in a pit with the soldiers and they begged him +not to stick his head up but he did anyway and they shot it off. Old +mistress jest cry so. + +"One thing I know, the Yankees took a lot of things. I 'member they took +Mrs. Fuller to the well and said they goin' hang her by the thumbs--but +they just done it for mischievous you know. They didn't take nothin' +from my white people 'cept some chickens and a hog, and cut down the +hams. They put the old rooster in the sack and he went to squawkin' so +they took him out and wrung his neck. + +"My white people used to carry me with 'em anywhere they go. That's how +come I learn so much. I sure did learn a heap when I was small. I +'member the first time my old mistress and my young mistress carried me +to church. When the preacher got through preachin' (he was a big fine +lookin' man with white gray hair) he come down from the pulpit and say +'Come to me, you sinners, poor and needy.' And he told what Jesus said +to Nicodemus how he must be born again. I wanted to go to the mourners' +bench so bad, but old mistress wouldn't let me. When I got home I told +my mother to borned me again. You see I was jest little and didn't know +no better. + +"I never seen no Ku Klux but I could have. They never bothered us but +they whipped the shirttails off some of 'em. Some darkies is the meanest +things God ever put breath in. + +"Most generally the white folks was good to their darkies. My young +master used to sneak out his Blue Back Speller and learned my father how +to read, and after the war he taught school. He started me off and then +a teacher from the North come down and taught us. + +"I've done pitty near every kind a work there is to do. There is some +few white people here can identify me. I most always work for +'ristocratic people. It seems that was just my luck. + +"I don't think nothin' of this here younger generation. They ain't +nothin' to 'em. They say to me 'Why don't you have your hair +straightened' but I say 'I've got along this far without painted jaws +and straight hair.' And I ain't goin' wear my dresses up to my knees or +trail 'em in the mud, either. + +"I been married four times and every one of 'em is dead and buried. My +las' husband was in the Spanish-American War and now I gets a pension. +Yes'm it sure does help. + +"I only had two children is all I is had. They is both dead and when God +took my last one, I thought he wasn't jest but I see now God knows +what's best cause if I had my grandchildren now I'd sure beat 'em. I'd +love 'em, but I sure wouldn't let 'em run around. + +"The biggest part of these niggers puts their mistakes on the white +folks. It's easier to do right than wrong cause right whips wrong every +time into a frazzle. + +"I don't read much now since my eyes ain't so good but tell me whatever +become of Teddy Roosevelt? + +"I'm sorry I can't offer you no dinner but I'm just cookin' myself some +peas. + +"Well, lady, I sure am glad you come. I jest knew the Lord was goin' +send somebody for me to talk to. I loves to talk so well. Good bye and +come back again sometime." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Mary Williams + 409 Hickory, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 84 +[TR: Apparently a second interview with same person despite age +discrepancy.] + + +"Yes ma'am, I know all about slavery. I'll be eighty-four the +twenty-fifth of this month. I was born in 1855. + +"My mother had eleven children and they all said I could remember the +best of all. I'm the second oldest. And they all dead but me. + +"I used to spin and on Friday I'd set aside my wheel and on Saturday +morning we'd sweep yards. And Saturday evening was our holiday. + +"I belonged to the Lees and my white folks was good to me. I was the +aptest one among 'em, so they'd give me a basket and a ginger cake and +I'd go to the Presly's after squabs. They'd be just nine days old 'cause +they said if they was any older they'd be tough. + +"Now, when the Yankees come through ever'body was up in the house 'cept +me. I was out in the yard with the Yankees. No, I wasn't scared of +'em--I had better sense. + +"This is all the 'joyment I have now is to think back in slavery times. + +"In slavery times white folks used to carry me to church. They'd carry +me to church in preference to anybody else. When they'd sing I'd be so +happy I'd hop and skip. I'm one of the stewardess sisters of St. John's +Methodist Church. We takes care of the sacrament table. + +"I believe in visions. I'm a great revisionist. I don't have to be +asleep either. Now if I see a vision of a black snake, it's a sign I got +a black enemy. And if it's a light colored snake, it's a sign I got a +white enemy. And if it's a kinda of a yellow snake, I got a enemy is a +yellow nigger. + +"Now, here's a true sign of death. If you dream of seen' nakedness, +somebody sure goin' to die in your family or maybe your neighbors'. + +"In slavery times they mostly wove their own dresses. Wove goods called +muslin. + +"And they wore bonnets in slavery times made out of bull rush grass. +Called 'em bull rush bonnets. I knowed how to weave but they had me +spinnin' all the time. + +"I've always worked for the 'ristocrat white people--lawyers, doctors, +and bankers. Mr. Frank Head was cashier of that old Merchant and +Planters Bank. He was a northern man. Oh, from away up North. + +"When I cooked, the greatest trouble I had was gettin' away. Nobody +wanted me to leave. And I tell you those northern ladies wanted to call +me Mrs. Williams. I'd say, 'Don't do that. You know these southern +people don't like that--don't believe in that.' But you know she would +call me Miss Mary. But I said, 'Don't do that.' + +"I'm just an old darky and can't 'spress myself but I try to do what's +right and I think that's the reason the Lord has let me live so long." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Husband was a soldier in the Spanish-American War and she receives a +pension. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Rosena Hunt Williams + R.F.D., Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 56 + + +"My mother was Amanda McVey. She was born two years, six months after +freedom in Corinth, Mississippi. My father was born in slavery. Grandma +lived with us at her death. Her name was Emily McVey. She was sold in +her girlhood days. Uncle George was sold to a man in the settlement +named Lee. His name was Joe Lee (Lea?). Another of my uncles was sold to +a man named Washington. His name was George Washington. They were sold +at different times. Being sold was their biggest dread. Some of them +wanted to be sold trusting to be treated better. + +"Mother and grandma didn't have a hard time like my father said he come +up under. He said he was brought up hard. He was raised (reared) at +Jackson, Tennessee. He was never sold. Master Alf Hunt owned him and his +young master, Willie Hunt, inherited him. He said they never put him in +the field till he was twelve years old. He started ploughing a third +part of a day. A girl about grown and another boy a little older took +turns to do a 'buck's' (a grown man) work. They was lotted of a certain +tract and if it stay clear a certain time to get it all done. He said +they got whooped and half fed. When the War was on, his white folks had +to half feed their own selves. He talked like if the War had lasted much +longer it would been a famine in the land. He hit this world in time to +have a hard time of it. After freedom was worse time in his life. + +"In August when the crops was laid by Master Hunt called them to the +house at one o'clock by so many taps of the farm bell. It hung in a +great big tree. He read a paper from his side porch telling them they +free. They been free several months then and didn't a one of them know +it." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: "Soldier" Williams, Forrest City, Arkansas +Age: 98 + + +"My name is William Ball Williams III. I was born in Greensburg. My +owners was Robert and Mary Ball. They had four children I knowd. Old man +Ball bought ma and two children for one thousand five hundred dollars. I +never was sold. I want to live to be a hundred years old. I'm +ninety-eight years old now. + +"Ma was Margarett Ball. Pa was William Anderson. Ma was a cook and pa a +field hand. They whooped a plenty on the place where I come up. Some of +'em run off. Some they tied to a tree. Bob Ball didn't use no dogs. When +they got starved out they'd come outen the woods. Of course they would. +Bob Ball raised fine tobacco, fine Negroes, fine horses. He made us go +to church. Four or five of us would walk to the white folks' Baptist +church. The master and his family rode. It was a good piece. We had +dances in the cabins every once in a while. We dance more in winter time +so we could turn a pot down in the door to drown out the noise. We had +plenty plain grub to eat. + +"I run away to Louisville to j'ine the Yankees one day. I was scared to +death all the time. They put us in front to shield themselves. They said +they was fighting for us--for our freedom. Piles of them was killed. I +got a flesh wound. I'm scarred up some. We got plenty to eat. I was in +two or three hot battles. I wanted to quit but they would catch them and +shoot them if they left. I didn't know how to get out and get away. I +mustered out at Jacksonville, Florida and walked every step of the way +back. When I got back it was fall of the year. My folks still at my +master's. I was on picket guard at Jacksonville, Florida. We fought a +little at Pensacola, Florida. + +"At the end of the War provisions got mighty scarce. If we didn't have +enough to eat we took it. They hadn't raised nothing to eat the last two +years. Before I got back to Kentucky the Ku Klux was about and it was +hard to get enough to eat to keep traveling on. I was scared nearly to +death all the time. I'm not in favor of war. I didn't stay on with the +master but my folks lived on. They didn't want to hire Negro soldiers. I +traveled about hunting a good place and got to Osceola, Arkansas. I been +here in Forrest City twenty ard years. The best people in the world live +in Arkansas. + +"I'm going to try to go to the Yankee Reunion. They sent me a big letter +(invitation). They going to send me a ticket and pay all my expenses. It +is at Gettysburg. It is from June 29th to July 6th. My grandson is going +to take care of me. + +"I get one hundred dollars a month pension. It keeps us mighty well. I +want to live to be a hundred years old." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Anna Williamson, Holly Grove, Arkansas +Age: Between 75 and 80 + + +"Grandma come from North Carolina. Her master was Rodes Herndon, then +Cager Booker. He owned my mama. My name is Anna Booker. I married Wes +Williamson. + +"My papa's master was Calvin Winfree. He come from Virginia. Me and Bert +Winfree (white) raised together close to Somerville, Tennessee. + +"Grandma and grandpa was named Maria and Allen. Her master was Rodes +Herndon. I was fourth to the oldest of mama's children. She give me to +grandma. That who raised me. Mama took to the field after freedom. Mama +had seven or eight children. + +"Mama muster been a pretty big sorter woman when she young. A ridin' +boss went to whoopin' her once and she tore every rag clothes he had on +offen him. I heard em say he went home strip start naked. I think they +said he got turned off or quit, one. + +"When mama was in slavery she had three girl babies and long wid them +she nursed some of the white babies. She cooked some but wasn't the +regular white folks' cook. Another black woman was the regular cook. I +heard her say she was a field hand mostly durin' slavery. + +"Folks was free two or three years fore they knowed it. Nobody told em. + +"I used to have to go up the road to get milk for the old mistress. She +boxed my ears. That when I was a child reckly after the war. + +"They had a latch and a hart bar cross the door. I never was out but +once after dark. I never seen no Ku Klux. My folks didn't know they was +free. + +"Dr. Washington lived in Somerville, Tennessee and brought us to +Arkansas to farm. He owned acres and acres of land here. I was grown and +had a house full of children. I got five living now. + +"I don't vote. I don't know who to vote for. I would vote for the worst +kinder officers maybe and I wouldn't wanter make times harder on us all +'an they is. + +"I been cookin' and farmin' all my life. Now I get $10 a month from the +Sociable Welfare. + +"I used to pick up chips at Mrs. Willforms--pick up a big cotton basket +piled up fore I quit. I seen the Yankees, they camped at the fair +grounds. I thought they wore the prettiest clothes and the brass buttons +so pretty on the blue suits. I hear em beat the drum. I go peep out when +they come by. + +"My old mistress slapped me till my eye was red cause one day I says +'Ain't them men pretty?' They camped at what is now the Fair Grounds at +Somerville, Tennessee, at sorter right of town. My papa was a ox driver. +That is all he done bout. Seem like there was haulin' to be done all the +time. + +"The folks used to be heap better than they is now. Some of the masters +was mean to the slaves but they mortally had plenty to eat and wear and +a house to live in. Some of the houses was sorry and the snow come in +the cracks but we had big fire places and plenty wood to cook and keep +warm by. The children all wore flannel clothes then to keep em warm. +They raised sheep. + +"It is a shame what folks do now. These young darky girls marries a boy +and they get tired each other. They quit. They ain't got no sign of +divorce! Course they ain't never been married! They jes' take up and +live together, then they both go on livin' with some other man an' +woman. It ain't right! Folks ain't good like they used to be. We old +folks ain't got no use for such doin's. They done too smart to be told +by us old folks. I do best I can an' be good as I knows how to be. + +"The times is fine as I ever seen in my life. I wish I was young and +strong. I wouldn't ask nobody for sistance. Tey ain't nuthin' wrong wid +this year's crop as I sees. Times is fine." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Callie Halsey Williamson, Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: 60? + + +"Mother was born in Alabama during slavery. Her name was Levisa Halsey. +Neither of my parents were sold. Mother was tranferred (transferred) to +her young mistress. She had no children and still lived in the home with +her people. Her mother, Emaline, was the cook. Master Bradford owned +grandmother and grandfather both and my own father all. Mother was the +oldest and only child. + +"I don't know whether they was mean to all the slaves or not. Seems they +were not to my folks. The old man died sometime before freedom. The +young master went to get a overseer. He brought a new man to take his +own place. He whooped grandma and auntie and cut grandma's long hair off +with his pocket-knife. + +"During that time grandpa slip up on the house top and take some boards +off. Grandma would sit up in her bed and knit by moonlight through the +hole. He had to put the boards back. She had to work in the field in +daytime. + +"During the War they were scared nearly to death of the soldiers and +would run down in their master's big orchard and hide in the tall broom +sage. They rode her young master on a rail and killed him. A drove of +soldiers come by and stopped. They said, 'Young man, can you ride a +young horse?' They gathered him and took him out and brought him in the +yard. He died. They hurt him and scared him to death. + +"Another train come and loaded up all the slaves and somehow when +freedom come on, my folks was here at Arkadelphia. They said they lived +in fear of the soldiers all the time. + +"Mother said a woman come first and stuck a flag out a upstairs window +and the Yankees shot the guns off and some of them made talks on freedom +to the Negroes and white folks. They seen that at Arkadelphia. + +"Mama, grandma, and grandpa started on their way back home following +soldier camps. They never got back to their homes. They never did like +the Yankees and grieved about the way they done their young master. He +was like one of my father's own children. They seen hard times after +freedom. It was hard to live and they was used to work but they had a +good living. They had to die in Arkansas. How come I'm here now." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Charlotte Willis, Madison, Arkansas +Age: 63 + + +"Grandpa said he walked every step of the way from old Virginia to +Mississippi. They camped at night, cooked and fed them. They didn't eat +no more till they camped next night. They was walked in a peart pace and +the guards and traders rode. They stop every now and then for to be +cried off and some more be took on. + +"Grandpa said he didn't wanter be sold but they never ax 'em no +diffurence. Sold 'em and took 'em right along. They better keep their +feelings hid, for them traders was same kind er stock these cattle men +is today judging from the way he say it was then. Grandpa loved Virginia +long as he have breath in him. + +"We used to sing + + 'Old Virginia nigger say he love hot mush; + Alabama nigger say, good God, nigger, hush.' + +(She sang it very fast and in a fashion Negroes only can do--ed.) He +wore a big straw hat and he'd get up and fan us out the way. + +"Grandma was brought from South Carolina by the Willises to Mississippi. +I heard her say her and him was made to jump over the broom. Called that +getting 'em married. Grandpa said that was the way white folks had of +showing off the couples. Then it would be 'nounced from the big house +steps they was man and wife. Sometimes more than two be 'nounced at the +gatherin'. + +"They had good times sometimes. They talked 'bout corn shuckings, corn +shellings, cotton traumpin's, (packing cotton in wagon beds by walking +on it over and over, she said--ed.) and dances. + +"Mother said she never was sold. She b'long to the Willises in +Mississippi. + +"I reckon I sure do 'members my grandpa and grandma bof. Seventeen of us +all lived at Grandpa Wash Hollivy's home. He was paying on it and died. +The house have three rooms in it. In the fall of the year grandma took +all the rancid grease and skins and get the drippings from the ash +hopper and make soap 'nough to do 'er till sometime next year. She made +it in the iron washpot. He raised meat to do us till sometime next year. +We never run short on nothing to eat. + +"We never had but 'bout two dresses at the same time. When I come on, +dresses was scarce. If we tore our dresses, we wore patches. We was +sorter 'shamed to have our dresses patched up. + +"I heard 'em say grandpa's house was guarded to keep off the Ku Kluck +one night. They come all right 'nough but went to another house. They +started whooping. The guards left grandpa's house and went down there +and shot into them. Some of them was killed and the horses run off. Some +run off quick and got out the way. I never caught on to what they +guarded grandpa for. + +"I had one girl baby what died. I been married once in my life. We rents +our house. I never 'plied to the Welfare yit. We been farming my +enduring life. Still farming; I says we is. + +"Old folks give out and can't run on wid the work. Young folks no 'count +and works to sorter git by their own selfs. Way I see it. We got so far +off the track and can't git back. Starve 'fore we git back like we used +to be. We used to git credit. Now there ain't no place to git it. We +down and can't git up. Way I sees it. Young generation is so uneasy, +ain't still a minute. They wanter be going all the time. They don't +marry; they goes lives together. Then they quits and take up wid +somebody else. I don't know what make 'em do thater way. That the way +the right young ones doing now. + +"My pa looked on me when I was three days old and left us. I ain't never +seen him since." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Ella Wilson + 1611 McGowan Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: Claims 100 + + +"I was born in Atlanta, Georgia. I don't remember the month. But when +the Civil War ceased I was here then and sixteen years old. I'm a +hundred years old. Some folks tries to make out like it ain't so. But I +reckon I oughter know. + +"The white folks moved out from Georgia and went to Louisiana. I was +raised in Louisiana, but I was born in Georgia. I have had several +people countin' up my age and they all say I is a hundred years old. I +had eight children. All of them are free born. Four of them died when +they were babies. I lost one just a few days ago. + +"I had such a hard time in slavery. Them white folks was slashing me and +whipping me and putting me in the buck, till I don't want to hear +nothin' about it. + +"An old man named Dr. Polk got a dime from me and said it was for the +Old Age Pension. He lived in Magnolia, Arkansas. They ran him out of +Magnolia for ruining a colored girl and I don't know where he is now. I +know he got ten cents from me. + +"The first work I ever did was nursing the white children. My old mis' +called me in the house and told me that she wanted me to take care of +her children and from then till freedom came, I stayed in the house +nursing. I had to get up every morning at five when the cook got up and +make the coffee and then I had to go in the dining-room and set the +table. Then I served breakfast. Then I went into the house and cleaned +it up. Then I 'tended to the white children and served the other meals +during the day. I never did work in the fields much. My old mars said I +was too damned slow. + +"They carried me out to the field one evening. He never did show me nor +tell me how to handle it and when I found myself, he had knocked me +down. When I got up, he didn't tell me what to do, but when I picked up +my things and started droppin' the seeds ag'in, he picked up a pine root +and killed me off with it. When I come to, he took me up to the house +and told his wife he didn't want me into the fields because I was too +damned slow. + +"My mars used to throw me in a buck and whip me. He would put my hands +together and tie them. Then he would strip me naked. Then he would make +me squat down. Then he would run a stick through behind my knees and in +front of my elbows. My knees was up against my chest. My hands was tied +together just in front of my shins. The stick between my arms and my +knees held me in a squat. That's what they called a buck. You could [TR: +sic: couldn't] stand up an' you couldn't git your feet out. You couldn't +do nothin' but just squat there and take what he put on you. You +couldn't move no way at all. Just try to. You jus' fall over on one side +and have to stay there till you turned over by him. + +"He would whip me on one side till that was sore and full of blood and +then he would whip me on the other side till that was all tore up. I got +a scar big as the place my old mis' hit me. She took a bull whip +once--the bull whip had a piece of iron in the handle of it--and she got +mad. She was so mad she took the whip and hit me over the head with the +butt end of it, and the blood flew. It ran all down my back and dripped +off my heels. But I wasn't dassent to stop to do nothin' about it. Old +ugly thing! The devil's got her right now!! They never rubbed no salt +nor nothin' in your back. They didn't need to. + +"When the war come, they made him serve. He would go there and run away +and come back home. One day after he had been took away and had come +back, he was settin' down talkin' to old mis', and I was huddled up in +the corner listenin', and I heered him tell her, 'Tain't no use to do +all them things. The niggers'll soon be free.' And she said, 'I'll be +dead before that happens, I hope.' And she died just one year before the +slaves was freed. They was a mean couple. + +"Old mars used to strip my sister naked and make her lay down, and he +would lift up a fence rail and lay it down on her neck. Then he'd whip +her till she was bloody. She wouldn't get away because the rail held her +head down. If she squirmed and tried to git loose, the rail would choke +her. Her hands was tied behind her. And there wasn't nothin' to do but +jus' lay there and take it. + +"I am almost a stranger here in Little Rock. My father was named Lewis +Hogan and I had one sister named Tina and one named Harriet. His white +folks what he lived with was Mrs. Thomas. He was a carriage driver for +her. Pleas Collier bought him from her and took him to Louisiana. All +the people on my mother's side was left in Georgia. My grandmother's +name was Rachel. Her white folks she lived with was named Dardens. They +all lived in Atlanta, Georgia. I remember the train we got on when we +left Georgia. Grandma Rachel had one daughter named Siney. Siney had a +son named Billie and a sister named Louise. And my grandmother was free +when I first got big enough to know myself. I don't know how come she +was free. That was a long time before the war. The part of Georgia we +lived in was where chestnuts grow, but they wasn't no chinkapins. All my +grandmother's people stayed in Atlanta, and they were living at the time +I left there. + +"My mother's name was Dinah Hogans and my father's name was Lewis +Hogans. I don't know where they were borned. But when I knowed him, they +was in Georgia. My mother's mars bought my father 'cause my mother heard +that Collier was goin' to break up and go to Louisiana. My father told +his mars that if he (Collier) broke up and left, he never would be no +more good to him. Then my mother found out what he said to Collier, so +she told her old mis' if Collier left, she never would do her no more +good. You see, my mother was give to Mrs. Collier when old Darden who +was Mrs. Collier's father died. So Collier bought my father. Collier +kept us all till we all got free. White folks come to me sometimes about +all that. + +"You jus' oughter hear me answer them. I tells them about it just like I +would colored folks. + +"'Them your teeth in your mouth?' + +"'Whose you think they is? Suttinly they're my teeth.' + +"'Ain't you sorry you free?' + +"'What I'm goin' to be sorry for? I ain't no fool.' + +"'How old is you?' + +"I tells them. Some of 'em want to argue with me and say I ain't that +old. Some of 'em say, 'Well, the Lawd sure has blessed you.' Sure he's +blessed me. Don't I know that? + +"I've seen 'em run away from slavery. There was a white man that lived +close to us who had just one slave and he couldn't keep him out the +woods to save his soul. The white man was named Jim Sales and the +colored boy was named--shucks, I can't remember his name. But I know Jim +Sales couldn't keep that nigger out the woods nohow. + +"I was freed endurin' the Civil War. We was in at dinner and my old mars +had been to town. Old man Pleas Collier, our mean mars, called my daddy +out and then he said, 'All you come out here.' I said to myself, 'I +wonder what he's a goin' to do to my daddy,' and I slipped into the +front room and listened. And he said, 'All of you come.' Then I went out +too. And he unrolled the Government paper he had in his hand and read it +and told us it meant that all of us was free. Didn't tell us we was free +as he was. Then he said the Government's going to send you some money to +live on. But the Government never did do it. I never did see nobody that +got it. Did you? They didn't give me nothin' and they didn't give my +father nothin'. They just sot us free and turned us loose naked. + +"Right after they got through reading the papers and told us we was +free, my daddy took me to the field and put me to work. I'd been workin' +in the house before that. + +"Then they wasn't payin' nobody nothin'. They just hired people to work +on halves. That was the first year. But we didn't get no half. We didn't +git nothin'. Just time we got our crop laid by, the white man run us off +and we didn't get nothin'. We had a fine crop too. We hadn't done +nothin' to him. He just wanted all the crop for hisself and he run us +off. That's all. + +"Well, after that my daddy took and hired me out up here in Arkansas. He +hired me out with some old poor white trash. We was livin' then in +Louisiana with a old white man named Mr. Smith. I couldn't tell what +part of Louisiana it was no more than it was down there close to Homer, +about a mile from Homer. My mother died and my father come and got me +and took me home to take care of the chillen. + +"I have been married twice. I married first time down there within four +miles of Homer. I was married to my first husband a number of years. His +name was Wesley Wilson. We had eight children. My second husband was +named Lee somepin or other. I married him on Thursday night and he left +on Monday morning. I guess he must have been taking the white folks' +things and had to clear out. His name was Lee Hardy. That is what his +name was. I didn't figure he stayed with me long enough for me to take +his name. That nigger didn't look right to me nohow. He just married me +'cause he thought I was a working woman and would give him money. He +asked me for money once but I didn't give 'im none. What I'm goin' to +give 'im money for? That's what I'd like to know. + +"After my first husband died, I cooked and went on for them white folks. +That was the only thing I could do. I was cooking before he died. I +can't do no work now. I ain't worked for more than twenty years. I ain't +done no work since I left Magnolia. + +"I belong to the Collins Street Baptist Church--Nichols' church. + +"I don't git no pension. I don't git nothin'. I been down to see if I +could git it but they ain't give me nothin' yit. I'm goin' down ag'in +when I can git somebody to carry me." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Ella Wilson insists that she is one hundred years old and that she was +born sixteen years before freedom. The two statements conflict. From her +appearance and manner, either might be true. + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Robert Wilson + 811 West Pullen Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 101 + + +"My name is Robert Wilson. I was born in Halifax County, Virginia. How +old am I? Accordin' to my recollection I was twenty-three years old +befo' the war started. Old master tole me how old I was. I'm a hundred +and one now. Yes'm I _knows_ I am. + +"Yes'm I been sold. They put us up on the auction block jest like we was +a hoss. They put me up and white man ax 'Who want to buy this boy?' One +man say 'ten dollars' and then they run it up to a hundred. And they buy +a girl to match you and raise you up together. When you want to get +married you jump over the broomstick. I used to weigh one hundred and +fifty-six pounds and a half, standin' weight. I could pick four and five +hundred pounds of cotton in a day. + +"When the Yankees come, old master make us boys take the sack of money +and hide it in the big pond. Yes'm, we drove the buggy right in the +water. + +"Durin' the time of the war I used to ride 'long side of the Yankees. +They give me a blue coat with brass buttons and a blue cap and +brass-toed boots. I used to saddle and curry the bosses. I member +Company Fifth and Sixth. + +"They tole us the war was to make things better. We didn't know we was +free till 'bout six months after the war was over. I didn't care whether +I was free or not. + +"'Bout slavery--well, I thinks like this. I think they fared better +then. They didn't have to worry 'bout spenses. We had plenty chicken and +everything. Nowdays when you pay the rent you ain't got nothin' left to +buy somethin' to eat. + +"Yes'm, I been to school. I'se a preacher (showing me his certificate of +ordination). I lives close to the Lord. The Lord done left me here for a +purpose. + +"When we used to pray we put our heads under the wash pot to keep old +master from hearin' us. Old master make us put the chillun to bed fo' +dark. I 'member one song he make us sing-- + + 'Down in Mobile, down in Mobile + How I love dat pretty yellow gal, + She rock to suit me-- + Down in Mobile, down in Mobile.' + +"You 'member when Grant took the fort at Vicksburg? I 'member he and +that general on the white hoss--yes'm, General Lee, they eat dinner +together and then after dinner they go to fightin'. + +"Oh lord! Don't talk about them Ku Klux. + +"Cose I believes in spirits. Don't you? Well you ain't never been +skeered. + +"After freedom my folks refugeed from Virginia to Tennessee so I went to +Memphis. We got things from the Bureau. Yes, Lord! I had everything I +wanted. I wouldn't care if that time would come back now. + +"'Did you ever vote?' Me? Yes'm I voted. Never had no trouble 'tall. I +voted for Garfield. I 'member when Garfield was shot. I was settln' out +in the yard. The moon was in the 'clipse. I'll never forget it. + +"I think the colored folks should have a legal right to vote, cause if +ever they come another war--now listen--them darkies ain't never goin' +to France again. The nigger ain't got no country--this is white man's +town. + +"What I been doin' since the war? Well, I'm a good cook. When I puts on +the white apron, I knows what to do. Then I preaches. The Lord done +revealed things to me. + +"I'll tell you 'bout this younger generation. They is goin' to +destruction. They is not envelopin (developing) their education. + +"Well I done tole you all I know. Guess I tole you 'bout a book, ain't +I?" + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Tom Windham, 723 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 98 + + +"I was twenty-one years old when the war was settled. My mother and my +grandmother kep' my age up and after the death of them I knowed how to +handle it myself. + +"My old master's name was Butler and he was pretty fair to his darkies. +He give em plenty to eat and wear. + +"I was born and raised in Indian Territory and emigrated from there to +Atlanta, Georgia when I was about twelve or thirteen. We lived right in +Atlanta. I cleaned up round the house. Yes ma'm, that's what I followed. +When the Yankees come to Atlanta they just forced us into the army. +After I got into the army and got used to it, it was fun--just like meat +and bread. Yankees treated me good. I was sorry when it broke up. When +the bugle blowed we knowed our business. Sometimes, the age I is now, I +wish I was in it. Father Abraham Lincoln was our President. I knowed the +war was to free the colored folks. I run away from my white folks is how +come I was in the Yankee army. I was in the artillery. That deefened me +a whole lot and I lost these two fingers on my left hand--that's all of +my joints that got broke. + +"Before the war my white folks was good to us. I had a better time than +I got now. + +"My father and mother was sold away from me, but old mistress couldn't +rest without em and went and got em back. They stayed right there till +they died. Us folks was treated well. I think we should have our liberty +cause us ain't hogs or horses--us is human flesh. + +"When I was with the Yankees, I done some livin'. + +"I went to school two months in my life. I should a gone longer but I +found where I could get next to a dollar so I quit. If I had education +now it might a done me some good. + +"I used to be in a brass band. I like a brass band, don't make no +difference where I hear it. + +"There was one song we played when I was in the army. It was: + + 'Rasslin Jacob, don't weep + Weepin' Mary, don't weep. + Before I'd be a slave + I'd be buried in my grave, + Go home to my father and be saved.' + +The Rebels was hot after us then. Another one we used to sing was: + + 'My old mistress promised me + When she die, she'd set me free.' + +"After the war I continued to work around the white folks and yes ma'm, +I seen the Ku Klux many a time. They bothered me sometimes but they soon +let me alone. They was a few Yankees about and they come together and +made the Ku Klux stay in their place. + +"One time after the war I went to Ohio and stayed three months but it +was too cold for me. Man I worked for was named Harper and as good a man +as ever broke a piece of bread. + +"I come back South and learned how to farm. I been here in this country +of Arkansas a long time. I hoped clean up this place (Pine Bluff) and +make a town of it. + +"I got a daughter and two sisters alive in Africa today--in Liberia. I +went there after we was free. I liked it. Just the thoughts of bein' +where Christ traveled--that's the good part of it. They furnished us +transportation to go to Africa after the war and a lot of the colored +folks went. I come back cause I had a lot of kin here, but I sent my +daughter and two sisters there and they're alive there today." + + + + +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Interviewer: Bernice Bowden +Subject: Apparitions + +This information given by: Tom Windham +Place of Residence: 723 Missouri St. Pine Bluff, Ark. +Occupation: None (Age 92) +[TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] + + +"Yes ma'm, I believe in spirits--you got two spirits--one bad and one +good, and when you die your bad spirit here on this earth. + +Now my mother comes to see me once in awhile at night. She been dead +till her bones is bleached, but she comes and tells me to be a good boy. +I always been obedient to old and young. She tell me to be good and she +banish from me. + +My grandmother been to see me once. + +Old Father Abraham Lincoln, I've seen him since he been dead too. I got +a gun old Father Abraham give me right out o' his own hand at Vicksburg. +I'm goin' to keep it till I die too. + +Yes ma'm, I know they is spirits." + + + + +Pine Bluff District +FOLKLORE SUBJECTS +Name of interviewer: Martin - Barker +Subject: Ex-Slave +Story. + +Information by: Tom Windham +Place of residence: 1221 Georgia St. +Age: 87 +[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.] + + +My master was an Indian. Lewis Butler of Oklahoma. I was born and raised +in Muskogee, Okla. + +All of marse Butler's people were Creek Indians. They owned a large +plantation and raised vegetables. They lived in tepees, had floors and +were set on a lot and a wall boarded up around them. This was done so +that they could hide the slaves they had stolen. + +I was twelve or thirteen years old, when the Indians had a small war. +They wouldn't allow us to fight. If we did, we were punished. They had a +place and made us work. I went to school two months also a little at +night. Cant read nor write. I am all alone now here in America. I have a +daughter in Ethiopia, teaching school, also two sisters. + +I served in several wars and I have been to Ethiopia. We left Monroe, +La., took water, then went back by gun-boat to Galveston. The Government +took us over and brought us back. After the Civil war was over the +Indians let the slaves go. + +I had an Indian wife and wore Indian dress and when I went to Milford, +Tenn., I had to send the outfit home to Okla. I had long hair until +1931. + +My Indians believed in our God. They held their meetings in a large +tent. They believed in salvation and damnation, and in Heaven and Hell. + +My idea of Heaven is that it is a holy place with God. We will walk in +Heaven just as on earth. As in him we believe, so shall we see. + +The earth shall burn, and the old earth shall pass away and the new +earth will be created. The saints will return and live on, that is the +ones who go away now. + +The new earth is when Jesus will cone to earth and reign. Every one has +two spirits. One that God kills and the other an evil spirit. I have had +communication with my dead wife twice since I been in Pine Bluff. Her +spirit come to me at night, calling me, asking whar wuz baby? + +That meant our daughter whut is across the water. + +My first wifes name was Arla Windham. My second wife was just part +Indian. I have seen spirits of friends just as they were put away. I +shore believe in ghosts. Their language is different from ours. I knew +my wife's voice cause she called me "Tommy". + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Alice Wise + 1112 Indiana Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I was born in South Carolina, and I sent and got my age and the man +sent me my age. He said he remembered me. He said, 'You married Marcus +Wise. I know you is seventy-nine 'cause I'm seventy-four and you're +older'n me. Why, I got a boy fifty-three years old. + +"We belonged to Daniel Draft. His wife was named Maud. And my father's +people was named Wesley Caughman and his wife was Catherine Caughman. + +"I can recollect hearin' the folks hollerin' when the Yankees come +through and singin' this old cornfield song + + 'I'm a goin' away tomorrow + Hoodle do, hoodle do.' + +That's all I can recollect. + +"I can recollect when we moved from the white folks. My father driv' a +wagon and hauled lumber to Columbia from Lexington. + +"I don't know how old I was when I come here. My age got away from me, +that's how come I had to write home for it, but I had three chillun when +I come to this country; I know that. + +"I went to school a little, but chillun in them days had to work. I was +always apt about washin' and ironin' and sewin' and so if anybody was +stopped from school I was stopped. I used to set pockets in pants for +mama. In them days they weaved and made their own. + +"They'd do better if they had a factory here now. Things wouldn't be so +high. + +"Oh Lord, yes, I could knit. I'd sit up some nights and knit a half a +sock and spin and card. + +"My mother's boys would card and spin a broach when they wasn't doin' +nothin' else, but nowadays you can't get 'em to bring you a bucket of +water. + +"They say they is weaker and wiser, but I say they is weaker and +foolisher. That's what I think. You know they ain't like the old folks +was. Folks works nowadays and keeps their chillun in school till they're +grown, and it don't do 'em much good-some of 'em." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Frank Wise, 1006 Victory Street, + Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: 81 to 85 + + +Birth and Parents + +"I was born in Burch County, Georgia, in 1854. I came to this state in +1871; I think I was about sixteen years old then. + +"My father was named Jim Wise and my mother was named Harriet Wise. My +father belonged to the Wises, and my mother to the Crawfords. They +didn't live on the same plantation. When they married, she was a +Crawford. Her old master was named Jim Crawford. I don't know how she +and my father happened to meet up. Wise and Crawford had adjoining +plantations. Both of them was in Burch County. My father's father was +named Jacob Wise and his mother was named Martha. I don't remember the +names of their master. I don't remember the names of my mother's people. + + +War Memories + +"I remember the year the War ended. I remember when the Yankees came on +the place that day the War ended. We children was all settin' out in the +yard. Some of them ran under the house when they saw the soldiers. They +were shooting the chickens and everything, taking the horses, and +anything else they thought they could use. They said to the old lady, +'Lemme kill them little niggers.' Old miss said, 'No, wait till you set +them free.' He said, 'No, when we set them free, we ain't goin' to kill +them.' They got around in the house, under the house, and in the yard. +They asked the old lady, 'Where is the horses?' She said, 'I don't +know.' They said, 'Go down in the woods and get them.' Somebody went +down and brought back a mare and a mule and a colt. They knocked the +colt in the head and shot him. They took the mare and the mule. They +took all the meat out of the smokehouse. They didn't set us free, and +they didn't tell us anything about freedom. Not then. + + +How Freedom Came + +"I don't remember how we got the news of freedom. I don't remember what +the slaves expected to get. I don't know what they got, if they got +anything. I don't remember nothin' about that. + + +Schooling + +"I went to school about eight days. That's all the schooling I ever got. +I had a brother and sister who went to school, but I never went much. I +went to school what little I did right here in Lonoke County, Arkansas. +My teacher was Tom Fuller. He was a colored man. He came from down in +Texas. I learned everything I know by watching people and listenin' to +them. + + +Occupational Experiences + +"The first thing I ever did was farming. I farmed all up till 1879. I +worked on steamboat till 1881, and then I went out railroading. I worked +at that a long time. I married in 1883. I was about twenty-seven years +old then, and a few months over. + +"While I was farming, I did some sharecropping, but I never got cheated +out of anything. + + +Ku Klux + +"I remember the folks had been off to see their people and the Ku Klux +taken the stock while they were gone. I don't remember the Ku Klux Klan +interfering with the Negroes much. I never saw them. + + +Voting + +"I never voted till Cleveland began his campaign for President. I voted +for eight presidents. Nobody ever bothered me about it. + + +Family + +"There were six children in my mother's family. My father had six +brothers. He made the seventh. I had nine children in all. Four of them +are living now. One is here; one, in St. Louis; and two, in Chicago. My +boy is in Chicago. + + +Opinions + +"The majority of the young people are just growing up. Lots of them are +not getting any raising at all." + + +Interviewer's Comment + +Wise is between eighty-one and eighty-five years old. The data he gives +conflict, some of it indicating the earlier and some of it later years. + +He doesn't talk much and has to be pumped. He doesn't lose the thread of +the discourse. His failure to talk on details of his early life seem to +the interviewer due to unwillingness rather than lack of memory. While +his age is advanced, his mind is sharp for one who has had such limited +training. + +He has no definite means of support, but states that he has been +promised a pension in September--he means old age assistance. + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Lucy Withers, Brinkley, Arkansas +Age: 86 + + +I was born 5-1/2 miles from Abbeville, South Carolina, in sight of +Little Mountain. I do remember the Civil War. I never seen them fight. +They come to about twenty or thirty miles from where I lived. They +didn't bother much in the parts where I lived. All the white men folks +went to war. My mama's master was Edward Roach and his wife was Miss +Sarah Roach. My papa's master was Peter Radcliff and Miss Nancy +Radcliff. They give me to her niece, Miss Jennie Shelitoe. When she +married she wanted me. After freedom I married. In 1866 we come to a big +farm close to Pine Bluff. Then we lived close to Memphis and I been +living here in Brinkley a long time. + +The Ku Klux put down a Governor in South Carolina right after the war. +They rode everywhere night and day scaring everybody. They wouldn't let +no colored people hold office. That governor was a colored man. The Ku +Klux whipped both black and white folks. They run the Yankees plumb out +er that country. + +No sir ree I never voted and I ain't never goner vote! Women is tearing +dis world up. + +The ex-slaves was told that they would got things, different things. I +don't know what all. I know they didn't got nothing and when freedom +came they took their clothes and left. They scattered out and went to +different places. It was hard to get work and there was no money cept +what the Yankees give em. When they all got run off there was no money. + +My husband was a Yankee soldier and he decided he wanter come to this +country. We come on the train and on the boat to Pine Bluff. We farmed. +I got three children but just two living. One boy lives at Fargo and the +girl lives at Chicago. My husband died. Me and my sister lives here. I +bought a place with my pension money. That since my husband died. + +The present times is hard. I don't know nithin about these young folks. +I tends to my own business. I ain't got nothing to do with the young +folks. I don't know what causes the times to be so hard. Folks used to +wear more clothes than they do and let colored folks have more ironing +and bigger washings too. The washings bout played out. Some few folks +hire cooks. + +I farmed and washed and ironed and I have cooked along some here in +Brinkley. + +I am supported by my pension my husband left me. It ain't much but I +make out with it. It is Union Soldiers Pension. + + + + +[HW: Hot Springs] + +Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins +Person Interviewed: Anna Woods, 426 Grand Avenue + + +"Yes ma'am. Come on in. Is you taking lists of folks for old age +pensions? Can you tell us what we going to get and when it's going to +come? No? Then--Oh, I see you is writing us up. Well maybe that will +help us to get attention. Cause we sure does need the pension. + +To be sure I remembers slave days. My grandmother--she was give away in +the trading yard. She was aflicted. What was the matter with her? Was +she lame? No ma'am, she had the scrofula. So her mother was sold away +from her, but she was give away. She was give away to a woman named +Glover. + +Mrs. Glover was a old woman when I knowed her. She was an old, old +woman. She sort of studied before she'd say anything. She was a pretty +good old woman though, Mrs. Glover was. She wouldn't let her colored +folks be whipped. She wouldn't let me work in the field. Old Donovan +wanted me to work in the field--but she wouldn't let him make me. +Donovan was Mary's husband. Mary was Mrs. Glover's girl's girl. Mrs. +Glover's girl was named Kate. + +Mrs. Glover had a whole flock of slaves. My mother and another woman +named Sallie cooked and did the washing. Fannie, she was my sister, was +old Mrs. Glover's maid. Robert and Sally and Lucy--they was my brother +and sisters--all of them worked in the field. They had to begin early +and work late. They got them out way fore day. They worked them til +dark. + +I remembers that Sally and Lucy used to wear boots and roll their skirts +up nearly to their waistses. Why--well you see sometimes it was muddy. +Did we raise rice--No, ma'am. We mostly raised corn and cotton, like +everybody else. + +We lived near Natchez. No ma'am, I never see but one colored person +whipped. His name was Robert. They laid him down on his stomach to whip +him. Never did hear what he had done. Maybe he run off. They usually +whipped them for that. No ma'am. I was right. Mrs. Glover didn't let her +colored folks be whipped. Robert, you see, was Donovan's man. He didn't +belong to Mrs. Glover. Her folks never got whipped. + +Maybe Robert run off. I don't know. The folks did one thing special to +keep them from running. They fastened a sort of yoke around they necks. +From it there run up a sort of piece and there was a bell on the top of +that. It was so high the folks who wore it couldn't reach the bell. But +if they run it would tinkle and folks could find them. I don't quite +know how it worked--I just slightly remembers. + +No, ma'am, I was just sort of a little girl before the war. You might +say I was never a slave. Cause I didn't have to work. Mrs. Glover +wouldn't let me work in the field and I didn't have much work to do in +the house either. Mrs. Glover was an old widow woman, but she was shore +good. Miss Kate was her onliest child. Kate's daughter was named Mary. + +Was I afraid of the soldiers? No ma'am. I wasn't. + +Lots of them that came through were colored soldiers. I remember that +they wore long tailed coats. They had brass buttons on they coats. But +we had to move from Natchez. + +First the soldiers run us off to Tennisaw Parish--an island there." (A +check on maps in the atlas of Encyclopedia Britannica reveals a Tenses +Parish, Louisiana--across the river and a few miles north of Natchez.) +"We couldn't even stay there. They drove us along, and finally we wound +up in Texas. + +We wasn't there in Texas long when the soldiers marched in to tell us +that we was free. Seems to me like it was on a Monday morning when they +come in. Yes, it was a Monday. They went out to the field and told them +they was free. Marched them out of the fields. They come a'shouting. I +remembers one woman, she jumped up on a barrell and she shouted. She +jumped off and she shouted. She jumped back on again and shouted some +more. She kept that up for a long time, just jumping on a barrell and +back off again. + +Yes ma'am, we children played. I remembers that the grown folks used to +have church--out behind an old shed. They'd shout and they'd sing. We +children didn't know what it all meant. But every Monday morning we'd +get up and make a play house in an old wagon bed--and we'd shout and +sing too. We didn't know what it meant, or what we was supposed to be +doing. We just aped our elders. + +When the war was over my brother, he drove the carriage, he drove the +white folks back to Natchez. But we didn't go--my family. We stopped +part way to Natchez. Never did see Miss Kate or Mrs. Glover again. Never +did see them again. Lots later my brother learned where we was. He came +back for us and took us to Natchez. But we never did see Mrs. Glover +again. + +I lived on in Natchez. I worked for white folks--cooked for them. I did +a lot of traveling. Even went up into Virginia. Traveled most of the +time. I'd go with one family and when we'd get back, there'd be another +one who wanted me to go and take care of their children. + +Been in Hot Springs since 1905. Worked for Dr. ---- first. Stayed right +in the house. Never did see such fine folks as Dr. ----" (prominent +local surgeon) "and his wife. Then I worked for Mr. ----" (prominent +realtor) "Yes, and I's worked at the Army and Navy Hospital too. Mighty +nice up there. Worked in the officer's mess--finest place up there. I's +worked for the officers too. Then I's worked for the Levi Hospital. +Worked for lots of folks. + +I's worked for lots of folks and in lots of places. But I haven't got +anything now. How soon do you think they will begin paying us? I get +just $10 from the county every month. $5 of that goes for my house. +Folks gives me clothes, but if they'd only give me groceries too, I +could get along. When do you think they will begin to pay us?" + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Cal Woods; R.F.D., Biscoe, Arkansas +Age: 85? + + +"I don't know zactly how old I is. I was good size boy when the war come +on. We all belonged to a man named John Woods. We lived in South +Carolina during slavery. Slavery was prutty bad itself but the bad time +come after the war. The land was hilly some red and some pore and sandy. +Had to plough a mule or horse. Hard to make a living. Some folks was +rich, had heap of slaves and some bout one family. Small farmer have 160 +acres and one family of slaves. When a man had one or two slave families +he treated em better an if he had a great big acreage and fifteen or +twenty families. The white folks trained the black man and woman. If he +have so many they didn't learn how to do but one or two things. Mas +generally they all worked in the fields in the busy seasons and +sometimes the white folks have to work out there too. Sometimes they get +in debt and have to sell off some slave to pay the debt. + +"Things seemed heap mo plentiful. Before the war folks wore fine +clothes. They go to their nearest tradin point and sell cotton. They had +fine silk clothes and fine knives and forks. They would buy a whole case +o cheese at one time and a barrel of molasses. Folks eat more and worked +harder than they do now. + +"Some folks was mean to their slaves and some slaves mean. It is lack it +is now, some folks good no matter what dey color, other folks bad. Black +folks never knowed there was freedom till they was fighting and going to +war. Some say they was fightin to save their slaves, some say the Union +broke. The slave never been free since he come to dis world, didn't know +nuthin bout freedom till they tole em bout it. + +"I recollect bout the Ku Klux after the war. Some folks come over the +country and tell you you free and equal now. They tell you what to do an +how to run the country and then if you listen to them come the Ku Klux +all dressed half mile down the road. That Ku Klux sprung up after the +war bout votin an offis-holdin mong the white folks. The white folks +ain't then nor now havin no black man rulin over him. Them Ku Klux +walked bout on high sticks and drink all the water you have from the +spring. Seem lack they meddled a whole heap. Course the black folks +knowed they was white men. They hung some slaves and white Yankees too +if they be very mean. They beat em. Hear em hollowing and they hollow +too. They shoot all directions round and up an down the road. That's how +you know they comin close to yo house. If you go to any gatherins they +come break it up an run you home fast as you could run and set the dogs +on you. Course the dogs bite you. They say they was not goiner have +equalization if they have to kill all the Yankees and niggers in the +country. The masters sometime give em a home. My mother left John Woods +then. The family went back. He give her an my papa twenty acres their +lifetime. Where dey stayed on the old folks had a little at some places. +They didn't divide up no plantations I ever heard of. They never give em +no mules. If some tole em they would I know they sho didn't. Didn't give +em nuthin I tell you. My mother's name was Sylvia and papa's name was +Hack Woods. + +"I come to Arkansas so my little boys would have a home. I had a little +home an sold it to come out here. Agents come round showin pictures how +big the cotton grow. They say it grow like trees out here. The children +climb the stalks an set on the limb lack birds to pick it. They show +pictures like that. Cotton basket way down under it on the ground. See +droves of wild hogs coming up, look big as mules. Men ridin em. No I +didn't know they said it was so fine. We come in freight cars wid our +furniture and everything we brought. We had our provision in baskets and +big buckets. It lasted till we passed Atlanta. We nearly starved the +rest of the way. When we did stop you never hear such a hollein. We come +two days and nights hard as we could come. We stayed up and eat, cooked +meat an eggs on the stove in the store till daybreak. Then they showed +us wha to go to our places the next day. I been here ever since. + +"I hab voted. I done quit lettin votin bother me up. All I see it do is +give one fellow out of two or three a job both of them maybe ought to +have. The meanest man often gets lected. It the money they all after not +the work in it. I heard em say what all they do and when they got lected +they forgot to do all they say they would do. + +"I never knowed bout no slave uprisins. Thed had to uprose wid rocks an +red clods. The black man couldn't shoot. He had no guns. They had so +much work they didn't know how to have a uprisin. The better you be to +your master the better he treat you. The white preachers teach that in +the church." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Maggie Woods, + Brassfield, Ark. + Deaner Farm. +Age: 70 + + +"My parents was Fannie and Alfred Douglas. They had three children, then +he died and my mother married a man name Thompson. My parents belong to +the Douglasses at Summerville, Tennessee. They had six children in their +family. + +"I was born the second year of the surrender that make me seventy years +old. My folks was all field hands. They was all pure African stock. All +black folks like me. Grandma Liney Douglass said she was sold and +Grandpa was sold too. My own parents never was sold. The Douglass +men-folks whooped the slaves but they was good masters outside of that. + +"They would steal off and have preachin' at night. Had preachin' nearly +all night sometimes. They'd hurry and get in home fore the day be +breakin'. From the way they talked they done more prayin' than +preachin'. + +"Whenever they be sick they would send to the Douglasses to know what to +do. They would take them up to their house and doctor them or come down +to the quarters and wait on whoever be sick. They had some white doctors +about but not near enough. They trained black women to be midwives. + +"I think my folks had enough to eat and clothes too I recken. They eat +meat to give them strength to work. My old stepdaddy always make us eat +piece of meat if we eat garden stuff. He say the meat have strength in +it. Cornbread, meat, peas and potatoes used to be the biggest part of +folks livin' in olden days. They had plenty milk. + +"Children when I come on didn't have no use for money. We eat molasses. +Had a little candy once in a while. That be the best thing Santa Claus +would bring me. We get ginger cakes in our new stockings too. Santa +Claus been comin' ever since I been in the world. Seem like Christmas +never would come round agin. It don't seem near so long now. + +"I was too young to know about freedom. We was livin' on Douglas farm +when George Flenol (white) come and brought us to Indian Bay. We worked +on Dick Mayo's place. I don't know what they expected from freedom but +I'm pretty sure they never got nothing. + +"When the black folks come free then the Ku Klux took it up and made 'em +work and stay at home. I heard that some folks wanted to stay in the +road all the time. The Ku Klux nearly scared me to death to see pass by. +They never did bother us. + +"I don't vote. Don't know nothing about it. I don't like the way that is +fixed for us to live now. We pay house rent and works as day laborers. +It makes the work too heavy at some times and no work to do nearly all +the time. It is making times hard. Cotton and corn choppin' time and +cotton pickin' time is all the times a woman like me can work. I raised +a shoat. I got no room for garden and chickens. + +"I got one girl, she way from here, she sent me $2.00 for my Christmas. + +"The young generation is weaker in body than us old folks has been. They +ain't been raised to hard work and they don't hold out. + +"That is salve I'm making. What do it smell like? It smell like +chitlings. In that sack is the inside of the chitlings (hog manure). I +boil it down and strain it, then boll it down, put camphor gum and fresh +lard in it, boil it down low and pour it up. It is a green salve. It is +fine for piles, rub your back for lumbago, and swab out your throat for +sore throat. It is a good salve. I had a sore throat and a black woman +told me how to make it. It cures the sore throat right now. + +"I live on what I am able to work and make. I never have got no help +from the government." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Sam Word, 1122 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 79 + + +"I'm a sure enough Arkansas man, born in Arkansas County near De Witt. +Born February 14, 1859, and belonged to Bill Word. I know Marmaduke come +down through Arkansas County and pressed Bill Word's son Tom into the +service. + +"I 'member one song they used to sing called the 'Bonnie Blue Flag.' + + 'Jeff Davis is our President + And Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + + 'Hurrah! Hurrah! for Southern rights, + Hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonnie Blue Flag + That bears a Single Star!'" + +(The above verse was sung to the tune of "The Bonnie Blue Flag." From +the Library of Southern Literature I find the following notation about +the original song and its author, Harry McCarthy: "Like Dixie, this +famous song originated in the theater and first became popular in New +Orleans. The tune was borrowed from 'The Irish Jaunting Car', a popular +Hibernian air. Harry McCarthy was an Irishman who enlisted in the +Confederate army from Arkansas. The song was written in 1861. It was +published by A.E. Blackmar who declared General Ben Butler 'made it very +profitable by fining every man, woman, or child who sang, whistled or +played it on any instrument twenty-five dollars.' Blackmar was arrested, +his music destroyed, and a fine of five hundred dollars imposed upon +him.") + +"I stayed in Arkansas County till 1866. I was about seven years old and +we moved here to Jefferson County. Then my mother married again and we +went to Conway County and lived a few years, and then I come back to +Jefferson County, so I've lived in Jefferson County sixty-eight years. + +"In Conway County when I was a small boy livin' on the Milton Powell +place, I 'member they sent me out in the field to get some peaches about +a half mile from the slave quarters. It was about three o'clock, late +summer, and I saw something in the tree--a black lookin' concern. Seem +like it got bigger the closer I got, and then just disappeared all of a +sudden and I didn't see it go. I know I went back without any peaches. + +"And another thing I can tell you. In the spring of the year we was +hoein' and when they quit at night they'd leave the hoes in the field, +stickin' down in the ground. And next morning they wouldn't be where you +left 'em. You'd have to look for 'em and they'd be lyin' on top of the +ground and crossed just like sticks. + +"I'll tell you what I do know. When we was livin' in Conway County old +man Powell had about ten colored families he had emigrated from +Jefferson County. Our folks was the only colored people in that +neighborhood. And he had a white man that was a tenant on the place and +he died. Now my mother and his wife used to visit one another. In them +days the white folks wasn't like they are now. And so mother went there +to sit up with his wife. And while she was sittin' up the house was full +of people--white and colored. They begin to hear a noise about the +coffin. So they begin to investigate the worse it got and moved around +the room and it lasted till he was took out of the house. Now I've heard +white and colored say that was true. They never did see it but they +heard it. + +"I don't think there is any ghosts now but they was in the past +generation. + +"I know many times me and my stepfather would be pickin' cotton and my +dog would be up at the far end of the row and just before dark he'd +start barkin' and come towards us a barkin' and we never could see +anything. He'd do that every day. It was a dog named Natch--an English +bull terrier. He was give to me a puppy. He was a sure enough bulldog +and he could whip any dog I ever saw. He was an imported dog. + +"I remember a house up in Conway County made out of logs--a two-story +one just this side of Cadron Creek on the Military Road. Then they +called it the Wire Road because the telegraph wire run along it. The +house was vacant after the people that owned it had died, and people +comin' along late at night would stop to spend the night, and in the +middle of the night they'd have to get out. Now I've heard that with my +own ears. There was a spring not far from the house. It had been a fine +house and was a beautiful place to stop. But in the night they'd hear +chairs rattlin' and fall down. It's my belief they had spooks in them +old days. + +"Now I'll tell you another incident. This was in slave times. My mother +was a great hand for nice quilts. There was a white lady had died and +they were goin' to have a sale. Now this is true stuff. They had the +sale and mother went and bought two quilts. And let me tell you, we +couldn't sleep under 'em. What happened? Well, they'd pinch your toes +till you couldn't stand it. I was just a boy and I was sleepin' with my +mother when it happened. Now that's straight stuff. What do I think was +the cause? Well, I think that white lady didn't want no nigger to have +them quilts. I don't know what mother did with 'em, but that white lady +just wouldn't let her have 'em. + +"Now I'm puttin' the oil out of the can--I mean that what I say is true. +People now will say they ain't nothin' to that story. At that time the +races wasn't 'malgamated. But people are different now--ain't like they +was seventy-five years ago. + +"Visions? Well, now I'm glad you asked me that. I'll take pleasure in +tellin' you. Two years before I moved to this place I had a vision and I +think I saw every colored person that was ever born in America, I +believe. I was on the east side of my house and this multitude of people +was about four feet from me and they was as thick as sardines in a box +and they was from little tots up. Some had on derby hats and some was +bareheaded. I talked with one woman--a brown skinned woman. They was +sitting on seats just like circus seats just as far as my eyes could +behold. Looked like they reached clear up in the sky. That was when I +fust went blind. You've read about how John saw the multitude a hundred +forty and four thousand and I think that was about one-fourth of what I +saw. They was happy and talkin' and nothin' but colored people--no white +people. + +"Another vision I had. I dreamed that the day that I lived to be +sixty-five, that day I would surely die. I thought the man that told me +that was a little old dried-up white man up in the air and he had scales +like the monkey and the cat weighed the cheese. I thought he said, 'That +day you will surely die,' and one side of the scales tipped just a +little and then I woke up. You know I believed this strong. That was in +1919 and I went out and bought a lot in Bellwood Cemetery. But I'm still +livin'. + +"Old Major Crawley who owned what they called the Reader place on this +side of the river, four miles east of Dexter, he was supposed to have +money buried on his place. He owned it during slavery and after he died +his relatives from Mississippi come here and hired a carriage driver +named Jackson Jones. He married my second cousin. And he took 'em up +there to dig for the money, but I don't know if they ever found it. Some +people said the place was ha'nted." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Sam Word + 1122 Missouri, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 78 + + +"I was born February 14, 1859. My birthplace was Arkansas County. Born +in Arkansas and lived in Arkansas seventy-eight years. I've kept up with +my age--didn't raise it none, didn't lower it none. + +"I can remember all about the war, my memory's been good. Old man Bill +Word, that was my old master, had a son named Tom Word and long about in +'63 a general come and pressed him into the Civil War. I saw the Blue +and the Gray and the gray clothes had buttons that said C.S., that meant +secessioners. Yankees had U.S. on their buttons. Some of em come there +so regular they got familiar with me. Yankees come and wanted to hang +old master cause he wouldn't tell where the money was. They tied his +hands behind him and had a rope around his neck. Now this is the +straight goods. I was just a boy and I was cryin' cause I didn't want em +to hang old master. A Yankee lieutenant comes up and made em quit--they +was just the privates you know. + +"My old master drove a ox wagon to the gold fields in California in '49. +That's what they told me--that was fore I was born. + +"Good? Ben Word good? My God Amighty, I wish I had one-hundredth part of +what I got then. I didn't exist--I lived. + +"Ben Word bought my mother from Phil Ford up in Kentucky. She was the +housekeeper after old mistress died. I'll tell you something that may be +amusing. Mother had lots of nice things, quilts and things, and kept em +in a chest in her little old shack. One day a Yankee soldier climbed in +the back window and took some of the quilts. He rolled em up and was +walking out of the yard when mother saw him and said, 'Why you nasty, +stinkin' rascal. You may you come down here to fight for the niggers, +and now you're stealin' from em.' He said, 'You're a G-D--liar, I'm +fightin' for $14 a month and the Union.' + +"I member there was a young man named Dan Brown and they called him Red +Fox. He'd slip up on the Yankees and shoot em, so the Yankees was always +lookin' for him. He used to go over to Dr. Allen's to get a shave and +his wife would sit on the front porch and watch for the Yankees. One day +the Yankees slipped up in the back and his wife said, 'Lord, Dan, +there's the Yankees.' Course he run and they shot him. One of the +Yankees was tryin' to help him up and he said, 'Don't you touch me, call +Dr. Allen.' Yes ma'm, that was in Arkansas County. + +"I never been anywhere 'cept Arkansas, Jefferson, and Conway Counties. I +was in Conway County when they went to the precinct to vote for or +against the Fort Smith & Little Rock Railroad. The precinct where they +went to vote was Springfield. It used to be the county seat of Conway +County. + +"While the war was goin' on and when young Tom Word would come home from +school, he learned me and when the war ended, I could read in McGuffy's +Third Reader. After that I went to school three months for about four +years. + +"Directly after Emancipation, the white men in the South had to take the +Oath of Allegiance. Old master took it but he hated to do it. Now these +are stubborn facts I'm givin' you but they's true. + +"After freedom mother brought me here to Pine Bluff and put me in the +field. I picked up corn stalks and brush and carried water to the hands. +Children in them days worked. After they come from school, even the +white children had work to do. Trouble with the colored folks now, to my +way of thinkin', is they are top heavy with literary learning and +feather light with common sense and domestic training. + +"I remember a song they used to sing daring the war: + + 'Jeff Davis is our President + Lincoln is a fool; + Jeff Davis rides a fine white horse + While Lincoln rides a mule.' + +"And here's another one: + + 'Hurrah for Southern rights, hurrah! + Hurrah for the Bonny Blue Flag + That bore the single star.' + +"Yes, they was hants sixty years ago. The generation they was interested +has bred em out. Ain't none now. + +"I never did care much for politics, but I've always been for the South. +I love the Southland. Only thing I don't like is they don't give a +square deal when it comes between the colored and the Whites. Ten years +ago, I was worth $15,000 and now I'm not worth fifteen cents. The real +estate men got the best of me. I've been blind now for four years and +all my wife and I have is what we get from the Welfare." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Ike Worthy + 2413 W. 11th Avenue, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age 74 + + +"I was born in Selma, Alabama on Christmas day and I'm goin' on 75. + +"I can 'member old missis' name Miss Liza Ann Bussey. I never will +forget her name. Fed us in a trough--eighteen of us. Her husband was +named Jim Bussey, but they all dead now. + +"When I got large enough to remember we went to Louisiana. I was sixteen +when we left Alabama--six hundred head of us. Dr. Bonner emigrated us +there for hisself and other white men. + +"There was nine of us boys in my parents' family. We worked every day +and cleared land till twelve o'clock at night. On Saturday we played +ball and on Sunday we went to Sunday school. + +"We worked on the shares--got half--and in the fall we paid our debts. +Sometimes we had as much as $150 in the clear. + +"Most money I ever had was farmin'. I farmed 52 years and never did buy +no feed. Raised my own meat and lard and molasses. Had four milk cows +and fifteen to twenty hogs. You see, I had eight children in the family. + +"Never went to school but one day in my life, then my father put us to +work. Never learned to read. You see everybody in the pen now'days got a +education. I don't think too much education is good for 'em. + +"I was 74 Christmas day. + +"Garland, Brewster--the sheriff and the judge--I missed them boys when +they was little. Worked at the brickyard. + +"I got shot accidental and lost my right leg 32 years ago when I was +farmin'. I've chopped cotton and picked cotton with this peg-leg. Mr. +Emory say he don't see how I can do it but I goes right along. I made +$21 pickin' and $18 choppin' last year. I picked up until Thanksgiving +night. + +"I worked at the Long-Bell Lumber Company since I had this peg-leg too. +I stayed in Little Rock 23 years. Had a wood yard and hauled wood. + +"Yes ma'am, I voted the 'Publican ticket. No ma'am, I never did hold any +office. + +"I don't know what goin' come of the younger generation. To my idea I +don't think there's anything to 'em. They is goin' to suffer when all +the old ones is dead. + +"I goes to the Zion Methodist Church. No ma'am, I'm not a preacher--just +a bench member." + + + + +Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor +Person interviewed: Alice Wright + 2418 Center Street, Little Rock, Arkansas +Age: About 74 + + +"I was born way yonder in slavery time. I don't know what part of +Alabama nor exactly when, but I was born in slavery time and it was in +Alabama. My oldest boy would be fifty-six years old if he were living. +My father said he was born in slavery time and that I was born in +slavery time. I was a baby, my papa said, when he ran off from his old +master and went to Mississippi. He lived in the thickets for a year to +keep his old master from finding out where he was. + + +Father, Mother and Family + +"My father's name was Jeff Williams. He's been dead a long time. Nobody +living but me and my children. My mother's name was Malinda Williams. My +father had seven children, four girls and five boys. Four of the boys +were buried on the Cummins (?) place. It used to be the old place of old +Man Flournoy's. My oldest brother was named Isaac. + +"I had sixteen children; four of them are still living--two boys and two +girls. The boys is married and the daughters is sick. No, honey, I can't +tell how many of em all was boys and girls. + + +House + +"My folks lived right in the white folks' yard. I don't know what kind +of house it was. My mother used to cook and do for the white folks. She +caught her death of cold going backward and forward milking and so on. + + +How the Children were Fed + +"They'd put a trough on the floor with wooden spoons and as many +children as could get around that trough got there and eat, they would. + + +How Freedom Came + +"Dolly and Evelyn were upstairs spinning thread and overheard the old +master saying that peace was declared but they didn't want the niggers +to know it. Father had them to throw their clothes out the windows. Then +he slipped out with them. Malinda Williams, my mother, came with them. +Dolly and Evelyn were my sisters. I don't know my master's name, but it +must have been Williams because all the slaves took their old master's +names when they were freed. I was a baby in my daddy's arms when he ran +away. + + +Patrollers + +"I heard my papa talk about the patrollers. He said they used to run +them in many a time. That is the reason he had to cross the bridge that +night going over the Mississippi into Georgia. The slaves had been set +free in Georgia, and he wanted to get there from Alabama. + + +What the Slaves Got + +"The slaves never got nothin' when they were freed. They just got out +and went to work for themselves. + + +Marriage + +"My father tended to the white folks' mules. He wasn't no soldier. When +he married my mother, he was only fifteen years old. His master told him +to go pick himself out a wife from a drove of slaves that were passing +through, and he picked out my mother. They married by stepping over the +broom. The old master pronounced them master and wife. + + +Slave Droves + +"The drove passed through Alabama, but my father didn't know where it +came from nor where it went. They were selling slaves. They would pick +up a big lot of them somewhere, and they would drive them across the +country selling some every place they stopped. My master bought my +mother out of the drove. Droves came through very often. I don't know +where they came from. + + +War Memories + +"My father remembered coming through Alabama. He remembered the soldiers +coming through Alabama. They didn't bother any colored people but they +killed a lot of white people, tore up the town and took some white +babies out and busted their brains out. That is what my father said. My +father died in 1910. He was pushing eighty then and maybe ninety. He had +a house full of grown children and grandchildren and great +grandchildren. He wasn't able to do no work when he died. It was during +the War that my father ran away into Georgia with me, too. + + +Breeding + +"My father said they put medicine in the water (cisterns) to make the +young slaves have more children. If his old master had a good breeding +woman he wouldn't sell her. He would keep her for himself. + + +Worship + +"When they were praying for peace they used to turn down the wash +kettles to keep the sound down. In the master's church, the biggest +thing that was preached to them was how to serve their master and +mississ. + + +Indians + +"My grandmother was a full-blood Indian. I don't know from what tribe. + + +Buried Treasure + +"People used to bury their money in iron pots and chests and things in +order to keep the soldiers from getting it. In Wabbaseka [HW: Ark.] +there they had money buried. They buried their money to keep the +soldiers from getting it. + + +Ku Klux + +"The Ku Klux Klan came after freedom. They used to take the people out +and whip them. + + +Just After the War + +"Immediately after the War, papa farmed. Most of it was down at the +Cummins place. When he ran away to Georgia, he didn't stay there. He +left and came back to Mississippi. I don't know just when my papa came +to the Cummins' place. It was just after the War. After be left the +Cummins' place he worked at the Smith place. Then he was farming agent +for sometime for old man Cook in Jefferson County. He would see after +the hands. + + +Voting + +"I ain't never voted in my life. I know plenty men that used to vote but +I didn't. I never heard of no women voting. + + +Occupation + +"I used to do field work. I washed and ironed until I got too old to do +anything. I can't do anything now. I ain't able. + + +Support + +"I get the old age pension and the Welfare give me some commodities for +myself and my sick daughter. She ain't been able to walk for a year. + + +Marriage + +"I married Willis Wright in July 1901. He did farming mostly. When he +died in 1928, he was working at the Southern Oil Mill. He didn't leave +any property." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Hannah Brooks Wright + W. 17th, Highland Addition, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 85 +Occupation: Laundress + + +"Yes ma'am, I was born in slavery times. I was born on Elsa Brooks' +plantation in Mississippi. I don't know what year 'twas but I know 'twas +in slavery times. + +"I was a great big gal when the Yankees come through. I was Elsa Brooks' +house gal. + +"I remember when a man come through to 'vascinate' all the chillun that +was born in slavery times. I cut up worse than any of 'em--I bit him. I +thought he was gwine cut off my arm. Old missis say our names gwine be +sent to the White House. Old missis was gwine around with him tryin' to +calm 'em down. + +"And the next day the Yankees come through. The Lord have mercy! I +think I was 'bout twelve years old when freedom come. We used to ask old +missis how old we was. She'd say, 'Go on, if I tell you how old you is, +your parents couldn't do nothin' with you. Jus' tell folks you was born +in slavery times!' Gramma wouldn't tell me neither. She'd say, 'You +hush, you wouldn't work if you knowed how old you is.' + +"I used to sit on the lever a many a day and drive the mule at the gin. +You don't know anything 'bout that, do you? + +"I remember one time when the Yankees was comin' through. I was up on +top of a rail fence so I could see better. I said, 'Just look a there at +them bluebirds.' When the Yankees come along one of 'em said, 'You get +down from there you little son of a b----.' I didn't wait to climb down, +I jus' fell down from there. Old missis come down to the quarters in her +carriage--didn't have buggies in them days, just carriages--to see who +was hurt. The Yankees had done told her that one of her gals had fell +off the fence and got hurt. I said, 'I ain't hurt but I thought them +Yankees would hurt me.' She said, 'They won't hurt you, they is comin' +through to tell you you is free.' She said if they had hurt me she would +jus' about done them Yankees up. She said Jeff Davis had done give up +his seat and we was free. + +"Our folks stayed with old missis as long as they lived. My mammy cooked +and I stayed in the house with missis and churned and cleaned up. Old +master was named Tom Brooks and her name was Elsa Brooks. Sometimes I +jus' called her 'missis.' + +"Old missis told the patrollers they couldn't come on her place and +interfere with her hands. I don't know how many hands they had but I +know they had a heap of 'em. + +"Sometimes missis would say it looked like I wanted to get away and +she'd say, 'Why, Hannah, you don't suffer for a thing. You stay right +here at the house with me and you have plenty to eat.' + +"I was the oldest one in my mammy's family. + +"I just went to school a week and mammy said they needed me at the +house. + +"Then my daddy put me in the field to plow. Old missis come out one day +and say, 'Bill, how come you got Hannah plowin'? I don't like to see her +in the field.' He'd say, 'Well, I want to learn her to work. I ain't +gwine be here always and I want her to know how to work.' + +"They had me throwin' the shickles (shuttles) in slavery times. I used +to handle the cyards (cards) too. Then I used to help clean up the milk +dairy. I'd be so tired I wouldn't know what to do. Old missis would say, +'Well, Hannah, that's your job.' + +"We used to have plenty to eat, pies and cakes and custards. More than +we got now. + +"I own this place if I can keep payin' the taxes. + +"Old missis used to say, 'You gwine think about what I'm tellin' you +after I'm dead and gone.' + +"Young folks call us old church folks 'old _ism_ folks,' 'old fogies.' +They say, 'You was born in slavery times, you don't know nothin.' You +can't tell 'em nothin'. + +"I follows my mind. You ain't gwine go wrong if you does what your mind +tells you." + + + + +Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson +Person interviewed: Tom Yates, Marianna. Arkansas +Age: 66 + + +"I was born in 1872 in Mississippi, on Moon Lake. Mama said she was +orphan. She was sold when she was a young woman. She said she come from +Richmond, Virginia to Charleston, South Carolina. Then she was brought +to Mississippi and married before freedom. She had two husbands. Her +owners was Master Atwood and Master Curtis Burk. I don't know how it +come about nor which one bought her. She had four children and I'm the +youngest. My sister lives in Memphis. + +"My father was sold in Raleigh, North Carolina. His master was Tom +Yeates. I'm named fer some of them. Papa's name was William Yeates. He +told us how he come to be sold. He said they was fixing to sell grandma. +He was one of the biggest children and he ask his mother to sell him and +let grandma raise the children. She wanted to stay with the little ones. +He said he cried and cried long after they brought him away. They all +cried when he was sold, he said. I don't know who bought him. He must +have left soon after he was sold, for he was a soldier. He run away and +want in the War. He was a private and mustered out at DeValls Bluff, +Arkansas. That is how come my mother to come here. He died in 1912 at +Wilson, Arkansas. He got a federal pension, thirty-six dollars, every +three months. He wasn't wounded, or if he was I didn't hear him speak of +it. He didn't praise war." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: Annie Young, 913 West Scull Street, + Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 76 + + +"My old master's name was Sam Knox. I 'members all my white people. My +mother was the cook. + +"We had a good master and a good mistress too. I wish I could find some +of my master's family now. But after the war they broke up and went up +North. + +"I 'member well the day my old master's son got killed. My mother was +workin' in the field and I know she come to the house a cryin'. I +'member well when we was out in the plum nursery and could hear the +cannons. My white girl Nannie told me 'Now listen, that's the war a +fightin'.' + +"The soldiers used to come along and sometimes they were in a hurry and +would grab something to eat and go on and then sometimes they would sit +down to a long table. + +"I could hear my great grandmother and my mother talkin' 'We'll be free +after awhile.' + +"After the war my stepfather come and got my mother and we moved out in +the piney woods. My stepfather was a preacher and sometimes he was a +hundred miles from home. My mother hired out to work by the day. I was +the oldest of seven chillun and when I got big enough to work they +worked me in the field. When we cleaned up the new ground we got fifty +cents a day. + +"I was between ten and twelve years old when I went to school. My first +teacher was white. But I tell you the truth, I learned most after my +children started to school. + +"I worked twenty-three years for the police headquarters. I was janitor +and matron too. I washed and ironed too. I been here in Pine Bluff about +fifty or sixty years. + +"If justice was done everybody would have a living. I earned the money +to buy this place and they come and wanted me to sign away my home so I +could get the old age pension but I just had sense enough not to do it. +I'm not goin' sign away my home just for some meat and bread." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: John Young + 925 E. 15th Ave., Pine Bluff, Ark. +Age: 92 + + +"Well, I don't know how old I is. I was born in Virginia, but my mother +was sold. She was bought by a speculator and brought here to Arkansas. +She brought me with her and her old master's name was Ridgell. We lived +down around Monticello. I was big enough to plow and chop cotton and +drive a yoke of oxen and haul ten-foot rails. + +"Oh Lord, I don't know how many acres old master had. He had a +territory--he had a heap a land. I remember he had a big old carriage +and the carriage man was Little Alfred. The reason they called him that +was because there was another man on the place called Big Alfred. They +won't no relation--just happen to be the same name. + +"I remember when the Yankees come and killed old master's hogs and +chickens and cooked 'em. There was a good big bunch of Yankees. They +said they was fightin' to free the niggers. After that I runned away and +come up here to Pine Bluff and stayed awhile and then I went to Little +Rock and jined the 57th colored infantry. I was the kittle drummer. We +marched right in the center of the army. We went from Little Rock to +Fort Smith. I never was in a big battle, just one little scrummage. I +was at Fort Smith when they surrendered and I was mustered out at +Leavenworth, Kansas. + +"My grandfather went to war as bodyguard for his master, but I was with +the Yankees. + +"I remember when the Ku Klux come to my grandmother's house. They nearly +scared us to death. I run and hid under the bed. They didn't do nothin', +just the looks of 'em scared us. I know they had the old folks totin' +water for 'em. Seemed like they couldn't get enough. + +"After the war I come home and went to farmin'. Then I steamboated for +four years. I was on the Kate Adams, but I quit just 'fore it burned, +'bout two or three weeks. + +"I never went to school a minute in my life. I had a chance to go but I +just didn't. + +"No'm I can't remember nothin' else. It's been so long it done slipped +my memory." + + + + +Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden +Person interviewed: John Young + 923 E. Fifteenth, Pine Bluff, Arkansas +Age: 89 + + +"I know I was born in Arkansas. The first place I recollect I was in +Arkansas. + +"I was a drummer in the Civil War. I played the little drum. The bass +drummer was Rheuben Turner. + +"I run off from home in Drew County. Five or six of us run off here to +Pine Bluff. We heard if we could get with the Yankees we'd be free, so +we run off here to Pine Bluff and got with some Yankee soldiers--the +twenty-eighth Wisconsin. + +"Then we went to Little Rock and I j'ined the fifty-seventh colored +infantry. I thought I was good and safe then. + +"We went to Fort Smith from Little Rock and freedom come on us while we +was between New Mexico and Fort Smith. + +"They mustered us out at Fort Leavenworth and I went right back to my +folks in Drew County, Monticello. + +"I've been a farmer all my life till I got too old." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: A Folk History +of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, +by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A FOLK HISTORY OF SLAVERY *** + +***** This file should be named 11422.txt or 11422.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/2/11422/ + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders + +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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