"I was born in Phillips County, Arkansas. My folks' master was named Dr. Jack Spivy. Grandma belong to him. She was a field woman. I don't know if he was a good master er not. They didn't know it was freedom till three or four months. They was at work and some man come along and said he was going home, the War was over. Some of the hands asked him who win and he told them the Yankees and told them they was free fer as he knowed. They got to inquiring and found out they done been free. They made that crap I know and I don't recollect nothing else.
"I farmed at Foreman, Arkansas for Taylor Price, Steve Pierce, John Huey. I made a crap here with Will Dale. I come to Arkansas twenty-nine years ago. I come to my son. He had a cleaning and pressing shop here (Marianna). He died. I hired to the city to work on the streets. I never been in jail. I owned a house here in town till me and my wife separated. She caused me to lose it. I was married once.
"I get ten dollars a month from the gover'ment.
"The present time is queer. I guess I could git work if I was able to do it. I believe in saving some of what you make along. I saved some along and things come up so I had to spend it. I made so little.
"Education has brought about a heap of unrest somehow. Education is good fer some folks and not good fer some. Some folks git spoilt and lazy. I think it helped to do it to the people of today."
"This is what my father, Isaac Johnson, always told us:
'I was born in Raleigh, North Carolina. Mama died and left three of us children and my papa. He was a blacksmith.' I don't recollect grandpa's name now.
'A man come to buy me. I was a twin. My sisters cried and cried but I didn't cry. I wanted to ride in the surrey. I was sold and taken to Montgomery, Alabama.'
"Angeline was his oldest sister and Emmaline was his twin sister. He never seen any of his people again. He forgot their names. His old master that bought him died soon after he come back from North Carolina.
"His young master didn't even know his age. He tried to get in the army and he did get in the navy. They said he was younger than he told his age. He enlisted for three years. He was in a scrimmage with the Indians once and got wounded. He got twenty dollars then fifty dollars for his services till he died.
"He wasn't old enough to be in the Civil War. He said he remembered his mistress crying and they said Lincoln was to sign a freedom treaty. His young master told him he was free. The colored folks was having a jubilee. He had nowheres to go. He went back to the big house and sot around. They called him to eat, and he went on sleeping where he been sleeping. He had nowheres to go. He stayed there till he joined the navy. Then he come to Mississippi and married Sallie Bratcher and he went back to Alabama and taught school. He went to school at night after the Civil War till he went to the navy. He was a light-brown skin.
"Grandma, Jane Cash, was one brought from Huntingdon, Tennessee in a gang and sold at auction in Memphis, Tennessee. She said her mother, father, the baby, her brother and two sisters and herself was sold, divided out and separated. Grandma said one of her sisters had a suckling baby. She couldn't keep it from crying. They stopped and made her give it away.
"Then grandma fell in the hands of the Walls at Holly Springs, Mississippi. She was a good breeder, so she didn't have to work so hard. They wouldn't let her work when she was pregnant.
"Mrs. Walls buried her silver in the front yard. She had an old trusty colored man to dig a hole and bury it. No one ever found it. The soldiers took their meat and let the molasses run out on the ground. They ransacked her house. Mr. Walls wasn't there.
"My auntie, Eliza Williamson, was half white. She was one of her master's son's children. Her first master put her and her husband together. She lives near Conway, Arkansas now and is very old.
"Grandma was living at Menifee, Arkansas, and a man from De Valls Bluff, Arkansas come to her house. She saw a scar on his arm. He was marked by gingerbread. She asked him some questions. Epps was his name and he was older than herself. He told her about the sale in Memphis. He remembered some things she didn't. He knowd where they all went. Her sister was Mary Wright at Milan, Tennessee. Grandma was twelve years old when that sale come off. She shouted and they cried. She couldn't eat for a week.
"She said old man Walls was good to them. When my mama was a little girl she was short and fat and light color. Old man Walls would call them in his parlor, all dress up and show them to his company. He was proud of them. He'd give them big dances ever so often. In the evening they had their own preaching in white folks' church. Grandma was good with the needle. She sewed for the mistress and her own family too. She had twelve children I think they said. They said her mistress had a large family too.
"Grandpa belong to Mike Cash. He give her husband what he made on Saturday evening. I think grandpa was sold from the Walls to Mike Cash. He took the Cash name and my mother was a Cash and she married Isaac Johnson. She was raised in Arkansas. Papa was married twice. I was raised around Holly Grove, Arkansas. That is where my folks lived in the last of slavery—that is mama's folks. Papa come to Arkansas at a later time.
"I think times is queer. I work and makes the best of 'em. (Ten dollars a month house rent.) I work all the time washing and ironing. (She has washed for the same families years and years. She is a light mulatto—ed.)
"Young folks is lost respect for the truth. Not dependable. That is their very worst fault, I think.
"No-oom, I wouldn't vote no quicker 'en I'd smoke a cigarette. But I haben never smoked narry one."
[TR: Personal information moved from bottom of first page.]
"Katie Butler was my old missis 'fore I married my husband. His name David Davis. I cooked for Jeff Davis and took care of his daughter, Winnie. I stayed with old missis, Jeff Davis' wife, till she died. She made me promise I'd stay with her. That was in Virginia."
(I have made three trips trying to get information and pictures of Winnie Davis. Her granddaughter said that a good many years ago when Winnie's mind was good, she was down town shopping and that when she gave her name, the clerk said, "Were you named after Jeff Davis' daughter?" and that Winnie replied, "She must have been named after me 'cause I cooked for Jeff Davis 'fore she was born."
Her mind is not very good at times, but the day I took her picture, I asked who she used to cook for and she said, "Jeff Davis."
She is rather deaf, nearly blind and toothless, but can get around the house quite well. The neighbors say that she has been a hard worker and of a very high-strung temperament.
The granddaughter, Mattie Sneed, says her grandmother said she was sold in Virginia when she was eight years old.)
"Good Lord yes, lady, I was here in slavery days. I remember my old marster had an overseer that whipped the people pretty rapid.
"I remember when the soldiers—the Yankees—come through, some said they was takin' things.
"Old Marster, his name was Joe Day, he was good to us. He seemed to be a Christian man and he was a Judge. They generally called him Judge Day. I never seen him whip nobody and never seen him have no dispute. I tell you if he wasn't a Christian, he looked like one.
"I was born in Georgia and I can remember the first Governor we had after freedom. His name was Governor Bullock. I heard it said the people raised a lot of sand because they said he was takin' the public money. That was when Milledgeville was the capital of Georgia.
"I used to vote after freedom. I voted Republican. I went to school a little after the war and then emigrated to Louisiana and Arkansas.
"Things has got so now everything is in politics. Some votes cause they want their friends in office and some don't take no interest.
"Some of the younger generation is prospering very well and some are goin' kinda slow. Some is goin' take another growth. The schoolin' they is gittin' is helpin' to build 'em up.
"Yes mam, I use to be strong and I have done a heap of work in my life. Cotton and corn was the business, the white man had the land and the money and we had to work to get some of that money.
"I remember when the Ku Klux was right bad in Louisiana. I never did see any—I didn't try to see 'em. I know I heard that they went to a school house and broke up a negro convention. They called for a colored man named Peck and when he come out they killed him and one white man got killed. They had a right smart little scrummage, and I know the colored people ran off and went to Kansas.
"The fust man I ever seed killed was one time a colored man's dog got in another colored man's field and ate his roasting ears, it made him so mad he shot the dog and then the man what owned the dog killed the other man. I never did know what the punishment was.
"Since I have become afflicted (I'm ruptured) I can't do no work any more. I can't remember anything else. If I had time to study I might think of something else."
[TR: Some word pronunciation was marked in this interview. Letters surrounded by [] represent long vowels.]
"I was born in Tennessee, 10 miles from Murfreesboro. They call it now Releford. I was born October 12, 1847. I stayed wid old master till he died. I was bout thirty-five years old. He lernt me a good trade, brick layin'. He give me everything I needed and more. After the war he took me by the old brass lamp wid twisted wick—it was made round—and lernt me outer the Blue Back Speller and Rithmetic. The spelling book had readin' in it. Lady ain't you seed one yit? Then I lernt outer Rays Rithmetic and McGuffeys Reader. Old master say it ginst the law to teach slaves foe the war. Dat what he said, it was ginst the law to educate a nigger slave. The white folks schools was pay foe the war.
"My old master had a small farm. His wife died. He never married no more. I caint member her name. She died when I was a little bitter of a boy. They had a putty large family. There was Marion, William, Fletcher, John, Miss Nancy, Miss Claricy, Miss Betsy. I think that all. The older childern raised up the little ones. My master named Mars Pleasant White. Long as I stayed wid him I had a plenty to eat an' wear an' a dollar to spend. I had no sense to save a cent for a old day. Mars White was a good man if ever one lived. He was a good man. Four old darkies all Mars White had. They was my mama, grandma, papa, auntie. My name I would lack it better White but that is where the Dell part come in; papa b'long to the Dells and b'fo the war he talked to me bout it. He took his old master's name. They call him Louis Dell White. He didn't have no brothers but my mama had two sisters. Her name was Mary White. Them was happy days b'fo the war. The happiest days in all my life. Bout at the beginnin' of the war Mama took cole at the loom and died. We all waited on her, white folks too. She didn't lack for waitin' on. Something white folks et, we et. We had plenty good grub all time long as Mars White live.
"How'd I know bout to git in war? I heard white folks talkin' bout it. One time I heard Mars White talkin' to my folks bout takin' us away. We was happy an' doin' well an' I didn't lack the talk but I didn't know what "war" was. No mam that was two years foe they got to fightin' down at Murfreesboro. Mars White was a ruptured man. He never left our place. I never heard bout none of my folks bein' sold. Mars White aired (heired) all us. My papa left and never come back. I d[o]n[o] how he got through the lines in the army. I guess he did fight wid the Yankees.
"Papa didn't speak plain. Grandma couldn't speak plain. They lisp. They talk fast. Sound so funny. Mama and auntie speak well. Plain as I do now. They was up wid Mars White's childern more. Mars White sent his childern to pay school. It was a log house and they had a lady teacher. They had a accordion. Mars Marion's neighbor had one too. All of em could play.
"White women would plat shucks an' make foot mats, rugs and horse collars. The white women lernt the darkie women. There was no leather horse collars as ever I seed. I lernt to twist shucks and weave chair bottoms. Then I lernt how to make white oak split chair bottoms. I made all kinds baskets. We had all sizes and kinds of baskets. When they git old they turn dark. Shuck bottom chairs last longer but they kinner ruff an' not so fancy.
"Well when they started off fightin' at Murfreesboro, it was a continual roar. The tin pans in the cubbord (cupboard) rattle all time. It was distressful. The house shakin' all time. All our houses jar. The earth quivered. It sound like the judgment. Nobody felt good. Both sides foragin' one bad as the other, hungry, gittin' everything you put way to live on. That's "war". I found out all bout what it was. Lady it ain't nuthin' but hell on dis erth.
"I tole you I was ten miles from the war and how it roared and bout how the cannons shook the earth. There couldn't be a chicken nor a goose nor a year of corn to be found bout our place. It was sich hard times. It was both sides come git what you had. Whole heap of Yankees come in their blue suits and caps on horses up the lane. They was huntin' horses. They done got every horse and colt on the place cepin one old mare, mother of all the stock they had on the place. Young mistress had a furs bout her and led her up the steps and put her in the house.
"Then when they started to leave, one old Yankee set the corner of the house on fire. We all got busy then, white folks and darkies both carry in' water ter put it out. We got it out but while we doin' that, mind out, they went down the lane to the road by the duck pond we had dug out. One old soldier spied a goose settin' in the grass. She been so scared she never come to the house no more. Nobody knowed there was one on our place. He took his javelin and stuck it through her back. She started hollowin' and flutterin' till the horses, nearly all of em, started runnin' and some of em buckin'. We got the fire bout out. We couldn't help laughin' it look so funny. I been bustin' I was so mad cause they tried take old Beck. Three of em horses throwd em. They struck out cross the jimpson weeds and down through the corn patch tryin' to head off their horses. Them horses throwd em sprawlin'. That was the funniest sight I ever seed.
"We got our water out of a cave. It was good cold limestone water. We had a long pole and a rope with a bucket on the end. We swing the pole round let it down then pull it back and tie it. They go to the other end and git the bucket of water. I toted bout all the water to both places what they used. One day I goin' to the cave after water. I had a habit of throwin' till I got to be prutty exact bout hittin'. I spied a hornets nest in a tree long the lane. I knowd them soldiers be long back fer sompin else, pillagin' bout. It wasn't long show nuff they come back and went up to the house.
"I got a pile of rocks in my hands. I hid down in the hazel nut bushes. When they come by gallopin' I throwd an' hit that big old hornets nest. The way they piled out on them soldiers. You could see em fightin' far as you could see em wid their blue caps. The horses runnin' and buckin'. I let out to the house to see what else they carried off.
"I tole Mars White bout how I hit that hornets nest wid the first rock I throwd. He scolded me, for he said if they had seen me they would killed me. It scared him. He said don't do no more capers like that. That old hornets nest soon come down. It was big as a water bucket. Mars White call me son boy. I tole him what terrible language they used, and bout some of the horses goin' over the lane fence. It was made outer rails piled up. Mars White sho was glad they didn't see me. He kept on sayin' son boy they would killed you right on the spot. Don't do nuthin' to em to aggravate em.
"It look lack we couldn't make a scratch on the ground nowhere the soldiers couldn't find it. We had a ash hopper settin' all time. We made our soap and lye hominy. They took all our salt. We couldn't buy none. We put the dirt in the hopper and simmered the water down to salt. We hid that. No they didn't find it. Our smoke house was logs dobbed wid mud and straw. It was good size bout as big as our cabins. It had somepin in it too. All the time I tell you.
"You ever eat dried beef? It is fine.
"I say I been to corn shuckins. They do that at night. We hurry and git through then we have a dance in front of Mars White's house. We had a good time. Mars White pass round ginger bread and hard cider. We wore a thing on our hands keep shucks from hurtin' our hands. One darkie sit up on the pile and lead the singin'. Old Dan Tucker was one song we lernt. I made some music instruments. We had music. Folks danced then more they do now. Most darkies blowed quills and Jew's harps. I took cane cut four or six made whistles then I tuned em together and knit em together in a row like a mouth harp you see.
drawing of whistle
Another way get a big long cane cut out holes long down to the joint, hold your fingers over different holes and blow. I never had a better time since freedom. I never had a doctor till since I been 80 years old neither.
"Later on I made me a bow of cedar, put one end in my mouth and pick the string wid my fingers while I hold the other end wid this hand. (Left hand. It was very peculiar shaped in the palm.) See my hand that what caused it. I have been a musician in my time. I lernt to handle the banjo, the fiddle and the mandolin. I played fer many a set, all over the country mostly back home (in Tennessee).
"We had a heap of log rollins back home in slavery times. They have big suppers spread under the trees. We sho know we have a good supper after a log rollin'.
"We most always worked at night in winter. Mama worked at the loom and weaved. Grandma and old mistress carded. They used hand cards. Auntie spun thread. I reeled the thread. I like to hear it cluck off the hanks. Papa he had to feed the stock and look after it. He'd fool round after that. He went off to the war at the first of it and never come home.
"The war broke us up and ruined us all but me. Grandma married old man soon after freedom. He whooped and beat her up till she died. He was a mean old scoundel. They said he was a nigger driver. His name was Wesley Donald. She died soon after the war. Mama was dead. Auntie married and went on off. I was 18 years old. When freedom come on Mars White says you all set free. You can leave or stay on here. I stayed there. Mars White didn't give us nuthin'. He was broke. All he had was land.
"Come a talk bout Lincoln givin' em homes. Some racketed bout what they outer git. That was after freedom. Most of em never got nuthin'. They up and left. Some kept on workin'. They got to stealin' right smart. Some the men got so lazy they woulder starved out their families and white folks too. White folks made em go to work. The darky men sorter quit work and made the women folks do the work. They do thater way now. Some worse den others bout it.
"Me and Mars White went to work. We see droves darkies just rovin' round. Said they huntin' work and homes. Some ask for victuals. Yes they give em something to eat. When they come in droves they couldn't give em much. Some of em oughter left. Some of the masters was mean. Some of em mighty good.
"Me and Mars White and his boys rigged up a high wheel that run a band to a lay (lathe). One man run the wheel wid his hands and one man at the lay (lathe) all time. We made pipes outer maple and chairs. We chiseled out table legs and bed post. We made all sort of things. Anything to sell. We sold a heap of things. We made money. If I'd had sense to keep part of it. Mars White always give me a share. We had a good livin' soon as we got over the war.
"I farmed. I was a brick layer. Mars White lernt me that. When he died I followed that trade. I worked at New Orleans, Van Buren, Jackson, Meridian. I worked at Lake Villiage with Mr. Lasley, and Mr. Ivy. They was fine brick layers. I worked for Dr. Stubbs. Mr. Scroggin never went huntin' without me but once over here on Cache River. He give me land to build my cabins. I got lumber up at the mills here. Folks come to my cabins from 23 states. J. Dall Long at St. Louis sent me a block wid my picture. I didn't know what it was. Mr. Moss told me it was a bomb like they used in the World War. I had some cards made in Memphis, some Little Rock. I sent em out by the telephone books tellin' em it was good fishin' now.
"J. Dall Long said when I go back home I send you somethin' nice. That what he sent in the mail.
"It was ugliest picture of me in a boat an' a big fish holt my britches leg pullin' me over out the boat. He had me named "Hambones" under it. I still got my block. I got nuther thing—old aunties bonnet she wore in slavery.
"I quit keepin' club house. I kept it 27 years. I rented the cabins, sold minnows and bates. They give me the land but I couldn't sell it. Old woman everybody call "Nig" cook fer me. I wanter live like Nig and go up yonder. I ainter goner be in this world long but I want to go to heben. Nig was not my wife. She was a fine cook. She cooked an' stayed at my cabins. This little chile—orphan chile—I got wid me was Nig's grandchild. When Nig died I took him. I been goin with him to pick cotton. I want er lern him to work. Egercation ain't no good much to darkies. I been tryin' to see what he could do bettern farm. They ain't nuthin'. I set down on the ground and pick some so he will pick. He is six years old. When it rain I caint pick and set on the wet ground.
Ku Klux
"The onlies sperience I had myself wid the Ku Klux was one night fo Grandma and auntie left. Somebody wrap on our cabin door. They opened it. We gat scared when we seed em. They had the horses wrapped up. They had on white long dresses and caps. Every one of em had a horse whoop (whip). They called me out. Grandma and auntie so scared they hid. They tole me to git em water. They poured it some whah it did not spill on the ground. Kept me totin' water. Then they say, "You bin a good boy?" They still drinkin'. One say, "Just from Hell pretty dry." Then they tole me to stand on my head. I turned summer sets a few times. They tickled me round wid the ends of the whoops. I had on a long shirt. They laugh when I stand on my head. Old Mars White laughed. I knowed his laugh. Then I got over my scare. They say, "Who live next down the road?" I tole em Nells Christian. They say, "What he do?" I said, "Works in the field." They all grunt, m-m-m-m. Then they say, "Show us the way." I nearly run to death cross the field to keep outer the way of the white horses. The moon shining bright as day. They say Nells come out here. He say "Holy Moses." He come out. They say "Nells what you do?" "I farms." They say "What you raise?" He say "Cotton and corn." They say "Take us to see yo cotton we jess from Hell. We ain't got no cotton there." He took em out there where it was clean. They got down and felt it. Then they say "What is dat?", feelin' the grass. Nells say "That is grass." They say, "You raise grass too?" He said, "No. It come up." They say "Let us see yo corn." He showed em the corn. They felt it. They say "What this?" Nells say, "It grass." They say, "You raise grass here?" They all grunt m-m-m-m everything Nells say. They give him one bad whoopin' an' tell him they be back soon see if he raisin' grass. They said "You raise cotton and corn but not grass on this farm." They they moan, "m-m-m-m." I herd em say his whole family and him too was out by day light wid their hoes cuttin' the grass out their crop. I was sho glad to git back to our cabin. They didn't come back to Nells no more that I herd bout. The man Nells worked for muster been one in that crowd. He lived way over yonder. No I think the Ku Klux was a good thing at that time. The darkies got sassy (saucy), trifling, lazy. They was notorious. They got mean. The men wouldn't work. Their families have to work an' let them roam round over the country. Some of em mean to their families. They woulder starved the white out and their selves too. I seed the Ku Klux heap a times but they didn't bother me no more. I herd a heap they done along after that. They say some places the Ku Klux go they make em git down an' eat at the grass wid their mouths then they whoop em. Sometimes they make em pull off their clothes and whoop em. I sho did feel for em but they knowd they had no business strollin' round, vistin'. The Ku Klux call that whoopin' helpin' em git rid of the grass. Nells moster lived at what they called Caneville over cross the field.
"The way that Patty Rollers was. The mosters paid somebody. Always somebody round wantin' a job like that. Mars White was his own overseer. All round there was good livers. They worked long wid the slaves. Some of the slaves would race. Papa would race. He wanted to race all time. Grandma cooked for all of us. They had a stone chimney in the kitchen. Big old hearth way out in front. Made outer stone too. We all et the same victuals long as Mars White lived. Then I left."
"I don't know much to tell about my folks. My parents died when I was young. Mother died when I was twelve and father when I was seven years old. Great-grandma was an Indian squaw. My father's pa was his young master. His old master was named George Dickey. The young master was John Dickey. I reckon to start with my mother had a husband. She had twelve children but the last seven was by my pa. He was lighter than I am and paler. This red is Indian in me. I know how he looked and how she looked too. The young master never married. He had some brothers. My father lived with us and his pa was there too some. I don't know what become of John Dickey but my pa was buried at Mt. Tursey Cemetery. It was a sorter mixed burying grown (ground) but at a white church. Mother come here and was buried at Cat Island in a colored church cemetery.
"I farmed in Mississippi, then I come to Miller Lumber Company and I worked with them forty-two years. I worked at Marked Tree, then they sent me here (Marianna).
"I voted in Caruthersville, Missouri last I voted. It don't do much good to vote. I am too old to vote. I never voted in Arkansas. I voted some in Mississippi but not regular.
"Times is hard. So many white women do their own cooking and washing till it don't leave no work fer the colored folks. The lumber work is gone fer good.
"The present generation is going back'ards. For awhile it looked like they was rising—I'm speaking morally. They going back down in a hurry. Drinking and doing all kinds of devilment. The race is going back'ard now. Seems like everybody could see that when whiskey come back in.
"I got high blood pressure. I do a little work. I watch on Sunday at the mills. I don't get no help from the Gover'ment."
"I was born in 1859 in North Carolina. Oh, sure, I remember when the Yankees come through. They said they done right smart of damage. I remember goin' by a place where they had burned it down. They didn't do nothin' to my white folks 'cept took the stock.
"The Lyles was my white folks. They called her Polly Lyles. Oh, they was good to us. My mother and her sister and another colored woman and we children all belonged to one set of people—Miss Polly Lyles; and my father belonged to the Diggs.
"After freedom we moved off but they was good to us just the same, and we was glad to pay 'em a visit and they was glad to have us.
"I've heard my mother say she'd ignore the idea of a cold biscuit but my father said he was glad to get one. He said he didn't get 'em but once a week.
"Oh, indeed there was a lot of difference in the way the colored folks was treated. Some of 'em was very good, just like they is now.
"Well, all those old people is dead and gone now 'cause they was old then.
"I come here to Arkansas in '88. That was when they was emigratin' the folks. I was grown and married then. I was twenty-six when I married in '85.
"I went to school a little. I can sorta scribble a little and read a little, but my eyes is failin' now. I started wearin' glasses 'fore I really needed 'em. I got to projectin' with my mother's glasses Looked like they read so good.
"Farmin' is all I know how to do. Never done anything else. I owned some land and farmed for myself.
"Sure, I used to vote—Republican. I never had any trouble. I always tried to conduct my life to avoid trouble. I believe in that policy.
"I joined the church when I was very young, very young. I go by the Golden Rule and by the Bible.
"I first lived in Pope County.
"I learned since I come here to Pine Bluff there's enough churches here to save the world, but there's some mean people here."
"I hope I was here in slavery days—don't I look like it? I was a good big girl after surrender.
"I was born in Rodney, Mississippi in 1855.
"I had a good old master—Doctor Williams. Didn't have no mistress. He never married till after surrender.
"We lived right in town—right on the Mississippi River where the gun boats went by. They shelled the town one day. Remember it just as well as if 'twas now. I hope it was exciting. Everybody moved out. Some run and left their stores. They run to Alcorn University, five miles from there. Some of em come back next day and some never come back till after surrender.
"The old Doctor bought my mother when she was twelve years old. When she got big enough she was the cook. Made a fine one too. I worked around the house and toted in wood and water.
"After surrender, Dr. Williams wanted my mother to give me and my brother to him and he would give her a home, but she wouldn't. I wish she had but you know I wasn't old enough to know what was best. She hired out and took us with her. I hired out too. I reckon I was paid but I never did see it. I reckon my mother collected it. I know she clothed me. I had better clothes than I got now. We stayed there till we come to Arkansas. I was married then. I married when I was seventeen. I was fast wasn't I? I got a good husband. Didn't have to work, only do my own work. Just clean up the house and garden and tend to the chickens. My husband was a picture man. Yes'm, I've lived in town all my life—born and raised up in town.
"After surrender I went to the first free school ever was in Rodney, Mississippi. I went about two sessions. I ought to've learned more'n I did but I didn't see how it would benefit me.
"In slavery days we used to go right to the table and eat after the white folks was through. We didn't eat out of no pots and pans. Whatever was on the table you et it until you got enough.
"When I was comin' up and they was goin' to have a private ball, they sent out invitations and I went, but when they had that kind where everybody could go I wouldn't a gone to one of them for nothin'.
"The way things is goin' now I don't think the end can be very far off.
"I remember when peace was declared I saw the soldiers across the street and they had their guns all stacked. I was lookin' and wonderin' what it was. You know children didn't ask questions in them days. I heard some of the older ones talkin' and I heard em say the war was over.
"I never had but two children and only one livin' now. Yes'm, I own my home and my son helps me what he can. I'm thankful I got as much as I have."
[TR: Personal information moved from last page of interview.]
Well honey ah can't tell jes when ah wuz born. De white fokes have mah age. Ah blong tuh de Newtons. As near as ah can get at mah age ahm bout 74 now but ah wuz big nough to member the soldiers comin aroun atter surrender.
Mah mutha had ten chillun but ah can't member but two uv mah sisters and one uv mah bruthes. We staid wid de Newtons till we wuz set free and I nuss fuh de Newtons aftuh we wuz set free. De Newtons wuz awful good ter me and dey wuz good tuh mah ma too. Ah slept up in de big house wid de Newtons. Ah nevah went ter school. Ah didn' have a chance. Ah went ter church jes sometimes. We didn have churches. We jes had meetin in our house we lived in. We cooked on fire places. We cooked our bread in what we called oven bout so high. We had chickens and eggs, peas, tatoes, meat and bread but ah didn know there was no sich thing as cake an pie till ah got to be an oman. Ah can't recollect jes how ole ah wuz in slave time but ah shore can recollect dem Yankees riding dem hosses and ah ask may ma what dey was doin and she said gatherin up cotton dey made in slave time an ah kin recollect an oman a gin. Yo know we had steps made of blocks saved from trees and she wuz a goin ovah em steps er shoutin and singin "Ah am free, at last, ah am free at last, ah'm free at last, thank Gawd a Mighty ah'm free at last." She wuz so glad ter be free.
My ma in huh time would make cloth. She had a loom. Hit wuz a high thing and th thread would go ovah th top and come down jes so in what we call shickle. She'd have a bench so high. The loom was high as dis door and my ma would set on the bench and her foots wuz on somethin like a bicycle and when she put her foots on de pedal dat shickle would come open and make a blum blum an that would make a yard of cloth, an she'd mash the pedal agin and another yard of cloth. Jes so we'd make eight and ten yards of cloth in one day. An when hit wuz made we would carry hit to de white fokes. Dey would make us clo'es outn dat cloth. Ifn dey wanted colored cloth dey would dye de thread. Dey had what we called a loom dat would make, le' me see now, Card would card the cotton, and de looms would make de thread and de shickle would make de cloth, as well as ah can recollect we would make little roll uv cotton on de cards an put it on de loom and make thread. De looms was jes so long. Ever time the wheel would say o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o we had a spool uv thread. Ah don' know whar dey got the spools, made em tho ah guess. Ah jes caint tell you how hit wuz hits so much.
De Newton's nevah did whup me. She started to whup me tho one day. Ah kin recollect bout de dogs. There wuz one dog whut wuz called Dinah. But yo know dey had ten uv em. One day ole Uncle Henry Jones done somethin and run off and climbed a tree and de Newton's miss him so dey called de dogs and dey went on to de tree. Dat very tree wha he wuz and stopped. Uncle Henry had been gone all dat mornin and dem dogs track him right dere, to de spot and wouldn let him down till de Newtons come. An chile dem Newtons whip de skin off Uncle Herny's [TR: Henry's] back. Dem dogs would git yo.
Mrs. Newton nevah got outn de bed no time. Ah would lift her from one bed to de utha to make de beds and when she got ready to get dressed ah would bath her and dress huh all de times.
Ah'll tell yo nother funny joke bout Henry Johnson. He had ter clean up mos uv de time. So Mrs. Newton's dress wuz hangin in de room up on de wall and when he come out he said to ole Uncle Jerry, he said: "Jerry guess whut ah done" and Jerry said: "Whut?" And Uncle Henry said: "Ah put mah han undah ole Mistess dress." Uncle Jerry said: "Whut did she say?" Uncle Henry say: "She didn' say nothin." So Uncle Jerry cided he'd try hit. So he went draggin on in de house. Set down on de floor by ole mistess. Ater while he run his han' up under huh dress and old marster jumped up and jumped on Jerry and like to beat him ter death. Jerry went out cryin and got out and called Henry. He said: "Henry ah though yo said yo put yo hand undah ole Mistess's dress and she didn' say nothin." Uncle Henry said: "Ah did and she didn' say nuthin." Jerry said: "Ah put mah han' undah huh dress and ole marster like tuh beat me ter death." Uncle Henry said: "Yo crazy thing huh dress wuz hangin up on de wall when ah put mah han up undah hit."
We didn' eat eggs only on Sunday mornin. Me and mah sis et together in de same plate. We didn know whut knives and forkes wuz den. We et wid our fingahs.
Ah had a good ole pa too. He died a long time ago. Ah member one night he started tuh whoop mah brudder and mah pa and mah brudder had hit. So mah brudder runned off, an de marster called ole Dinah, Dinah wuz a dog yo know but Dinah was a big dog ovah the other dogs yo know and dem dogs went and got me brudder and dem Newtons sho did beat him. But twasnt long befo mah pa taken sick and died aftuh dat. An when we wuz goin ter bury mah pa lamme tell yo what happened: Two turtle doves flew roun the wagon three times, den dey flew right on top uv mah pa's coffin box an hollered three times; and yo know mah sistuh died bout three days aftuh dat. Ah didn' bleave in signs till den. Ah know mah pa always bleaved in signs cause ah know when hit would start lightnin and thunderin round dat place of ourn mah pa would always make us stop. He say twas bad luck. An ah know when evah a dove would holler at night he'd tell us jes tuh tie a knot in th' south cornuh uv de sheet and he would hush. An we would do hit an he would hush. Yo kno hits bad luck fuh dem tuh holler roun yo place.
Oh we use ter have lots o sheep, at least ole mistess did. We made all of our wool clothes from dem sheeps wool and let me tell yo somethin else, ah think ah got some sheep wool in mah trunk now ah had hit fifty years. Hits good fer sores if yo has er cut on yo han' or feet or if blood poison set up jes take a little piece of dat wool an put a piece of fire on hit and [HW: put] some [HW: on] the sore parts and chile, honey, hit will git well right now.
Chile ah had use ter ruther go ter dances than ter eat. Ah'd go ter dances an git early dare and heah dem fiddles. Uh, my! ah jus couldn make mah foots act right. We use ter dance sixteen sets. We'd be er dancing and hit would sound so good. Someone would say swing de one yo love bes but ah wouldn swing de one ah love best cause ah didn want anyone tah know him.
On Sunday mornin dats when we play. Ole marster would put a rope cross fer us ter jump and we'd line up. The rope wuz bout five feet high and chile if we didn' jump it we'd catch hit. O-o-o-o-oooo. We had ter run. He line up two at a time an he say one fuh de money, two fuh de show, three tuh make ready and fo' tuh go. An yo talk bout runnin. We had ter run. He would make us box and de one dat git whooped is de one dat would haft ter box till he got whooped and we had ter whoop three times befo' stoppin. Oh chile, ah had a time when ah miz a chile.