Interview with George Bollinger,Cape Girardeau, Missouri.He Saw Many "Hants"
George Bollinger is a typical, old-time Negro who lives in Cape Girardeau. In his younger days he was big and powerful and even now at the age of 84 he is above the average in build. He owns his home and his is the last colored family to remain in this neighborhood which is rapidly being built up with modern homes.
George has little education, unlike his wife who is much younger and uses fairly good English. He sits on his porch and thoroughly enjoys talking of the long ago with those who appreciate listening to his story.
"Benton Hill?" he said. "Sure, it's hanted. I seen things and heard things there lots of times. Good gosh amighty! One night we was driving through dere and we heard something dat sound like a woman just a screaming. Old man Ousbery was with me and he wanted to stop and see what it was but I says, 'No you don't. Drive on. You don't know what dat might be.' Another time we's driving by there, and dey was a great big mule just standing cross de road and he just wouldn't move. I says, 'Just drive on and he'll get out of de way.' But he didn't. When we gets to him, he just parts right in de middle and half stands on one side and half on de other. We didn't look 'round. No, mo'—we just made dat hoss go.
"I don't know what makes dem hants round there—lessen it's de gold what's buried dere. And you know de spirits always come back fer gold. Sure dey's money buried dere. Didn't you all know dat? Lots of folks is dug there, but dey ain't never found it. Why dey is holes 'round dere where men's been digging for dat gold.
"Dey was one man had a-what you call it? A 'vinin' rod. That points to where things is hid. But he didn't find it neither. And then out by de Maberry place, close to Gordonville—who-e-e—I's sure enough seen things out dere lots of times. You know where dat clump of peach trees is at de corner of de fence? Dey always seems to come from right there. I worked out there for a long time. We'd get out to work early, sometimes 'twasn't good and day.
"One morning I's coming along there, on a hoss I was, and I met a hossman. He looks funny to me and when he asks me something I says, 'Git on. I ain't talking to you!' But he says, 'Wait, I wants to talk to you!' As I says, he looks funny to me and I pulls out my pistol. I always carries my gun, and I think if he makes a pass at me I'll git him. But I goes on without looking back. Now just dat one man is all I seen, but when I gets past, dey is lots of talking like dey is six or eight men. But I didn't look back.
"One morning I'd got out there real early, too early to go into de field and I thinks I'll rest awhile under de tree. I had my eyes shut for a while when something bothered me. When I opened up my eyes there was a lot a strange hosses standing 'round me in a ring. I jumped up and hollered, 'git out'. Dey turned and ran and dey run right off a steep bank on the other side of de field."
"Did you see them down there?" he was asked.
"Cose I never, nobody else never neither, dey wasn't dere, dat's why," he answered.
"Lord, when I thinks of de way we used to work. Out in de field before day and work till plumb dark. My boss would say, 'George take two men, or maybe three men, and git dat field plowed, or dat woods patch cleared'. And he knowed if he tell me, de work would be done.
"And I worked at anything. One time I steamboated for eight years. But what do dese young folks know 'bout work? Nuthin'! Look at dat grandson of mine, just crossed de porch—why he's fourteen and he can't even use a ax. Too young? Go on with you!
"I tells you dese young folks just don't know how to work. Dey has too much studying up here (pointing to his head and making motions like wheels going round.) When I's his age I's working at anything I could find. I worked on a farm and on a steamboat, I carried cross ties—just anything where I could earn money. And I saved money, too. When we bought dis house I had $2,400 saved up. And men was stronger in dem days and had better health.
"Dese young folks want too easy living. And dey ain't brung up to show respect to old folks like we is. If I goes down de walk and a bunch young folks is coming along, I knows I's got to step out of de way—'cause dey won't give any. And if some little ones on roller skates is coming down de sidewalk—you better git off or dey'll run right into you.
"I was tellin' you 'bout Miss Katie coming to see me, wasn't I? Well just last week her boy come to see me. He's maybe 25 or 30 year old. Somebody told him 'bout me and he come here and he sit right dar on de porch fer a hour and talk with me. He was a fine young man, he was."
Interview with George Bollinger[TR: by Mollie E. Smith].
NOTE: George Bollinger and his family live in a nice one-and-one-half story house, which they own. They have always been industrious people and their home is nicely kept. George is 84 years old and seems to enjoy life. He was glad to talk over "old times", especially after he recognized me, (The "Me" being Mollie E. Smith) and recalled that he used to work in my grandfather's Tan Yard. George Bollinger is living at 320 N. Spriggs St., Cape Girardeau, Missouri.
"We lived out on de edge o' Bollinger County. 'Ole Massa's' name was 'Dal Bollinger'. 'Ole Missus,' we always called, "Aunt Polly". Den day wuz young 'Massa Dave,' and young 'Missie Katie'.
"My Pappy's name wuz 'Bollinger' 'en my mammy wuz 'Temple'. My pappy wuz a smart man. He cud read and write. I don't know whar he learned it. An' he had de power, my daddy did. He cud break a 'Hoodoo' spell, an' he cud tell things dat happened wen he diden see it—If one a' de folks went to town he cud tell 'em jes everything dey don dere.
"Dey wuz 'bout 20, mebby 25, slaves on de place, 'en we all lived in a big, old log house. My mammy wus a good cook 'en she cud spin en weave. She made all de clothes we wore. Us chilluns never wore no pants—jes sumpin like a long shirt made o' homespun. We didden know nuthin' 'bout learnin'. Dey wuz a church, but we didden go much, 'en we never had no kind 'er gatherin's. Dey wouldn' let de cullered folks congregate—no, shu, why, even de man over at de store wouldn't let mo' dan two cullud folks come in at a time.
"I didden even know what money wuz. Massa' had a chest 'bout three feet long—up in a little attic. It wuz jes' full o' gold 'en silver money—no 'greenbacks'. It wuz covered over wif rugs, 'en I never know'd what wuz in dere—we used to go up der to play sumtimes on rainy days, an Aunt Polly'd holler, 'Ef you don' cum down fum dere de ghosts 'ul git ye'. I never seed inside de chest 'till dey bury it—dat wuz in war-time. Dey put a big hand spike under it 'en de men carry it down by de sugar grove de udder side o' de graveyard. I cud go, right now 'en show you de very spot dey bury it. De bes' times we-ens had wuz going fishing, an' man! did we like to fish. Allus we had Saturday atternoon off, 'lessen it wer wheat harvest 'er sumthin' special like. 'En Sunday's we allus fished all day long.
"One time day wuz two hundred sojers cum to our place—dey wuz Southerners, an' dey wuz nearly starved. Massa tole 'em dey cud kill dat big steer. Dey shoots him 'en 'fore he drops dey wuz on him; skinnin' him. By dat time udders had a fire built 'en de men pull out dey knives 'en dey cut off hunks; dey puts 'em on a stick 'en hol's 'em ovar de fire a few minutes—didden give 'em time to cook thru fore dey et it. Dat ole steer didden last long. 'En 'Massa' had ten cribs 'er corn. He tole' em to —— dey selves. 'Bout dat time a dispatch came, dat de "Yankees" wuz commin'. Dey went up to meet 'em, 'an dey had a battle over at Patton. Long 'bout midnight sum of 'em came back, wounded. Aunt Polly helped 'em, but she begged 'em not to stay dere, or de "Yankees" cum in, burn de house down.
"Aunt Polly 'en mammy allus know'd whut to do when a body wuz ailin'. Dey allus had a bag o' yarbs hangin' under de porch. When de sojers wuz commin' we allus hid de hosses. Massa' had lots ob 'em, 'en Missie —— had de pudttiest black mare. It's name wuz 'Kate'. Des one time de hosses musta skered 'er sumpin—de sojers foun' 'em, an' here dey com ridin' up past de house wid every on of our hosses.
"A sojer wuz ridin' 'Black Kate'. Wen 'Missie Katie' see dat—she holler, and she ran an' grab hol' de bridles, on han' on each side 'er his haid. De sojer put spurs to de mare, but she hung on jes a cryin'. I kin jes see her now; de mare a rarin' and 'Missie —— hangin on a-cryin'. She hung on till dey reach de creek. Den she lose her grip, but she sho' did cry.
"One night we had a big corn shuckin'. We shucked 'till way late in de nite: den sum de white men stay all nite. Day wuz a pile 'er shucks higher'en dat door. Nex' mornin' a bunch o' "Yankees" cum by. As dey wuz comin' thru' de yard, dey see one man runnin' to hide behin' de barn. Dey say; "Halt", but de man keep runnin'; so dey fire—de bullet thru' his had and he stop. Den dey say: "If day's one man, dey's more a hiddin.' Dey looks roun', den de haid man say: 'Men ride thru' dat pile 'er shucks 'en —— in dey hair. Den de sojers asks 'em things 'en iff'n de answers didden seem good; dey hit 'em over de haid wid dere guns. I wuz standin' right here, an' I saw 'Ole Massa' git hit on de haid once, den anudder time: an' he fell. I sho' thot he wuz daid, but warn't. Aunt Polly fix him up atter de sojers wuz gone, but de bushwackers got him.
"Dey must a heerd about de chest o' money he had buried. Dey try to make him tell; but he wouldn't. Den dey put 'er rope 'roun' his neck an' pulls him up. Den dey lets him down: but he wouldn' tell no how—so dey finished him.
"Yes, de' nigger buyers ust'a cum roun' our place. It was sight to see! Dere 'ud be mebbe five 'or six men a'ridin' fine hosses an a-drivin' a whole flock 'er slaves along de rode; jes' like stock, all chained togedder.
"On time dere wuz Pete Smith, 'Ole Tom Johnson, an' Fred an' Sam Daughery; all niggar buyers—dey wuz at our place an' dey wud all sit dar, an' us slaves had to stan' up in front o' em, an' dey'd bid on us. I 'members I wuz full chested an' dey laid a stick across my chest to see how straight I cud stan'. 'Ole Pete' Smith wuz gonna' buy me; but my young folks begged 'Massa' not to sell me, 'cause we'd all played togedder—so he didden' sell me.
"But dey wuz gonna buy my 'pappy' an take him way off, but, my 'pappy' was smart. He had made baskets at night an' sold 'em when he cud, 'en saved de money—dat night he goes to de fireplace an' lifts up a stone; an' out o' de hole he pulls out a bag a' money an' he runs away. I ain't never seed my 'pappy' since. Las' I hurd a' him he was in 'Indiana.' When Mista Lincoln made his Proclamation (dat wuz 'fore de war wuz over), young Massa' Dave set us free. He gave us a yoke of oxen an' a wagon full o' everythin' we needed. Der wuz a feather bed 'en quilts an' meat an' purvisions—an' he sent us into de Cape—an we been livin' roun' here ever since.
"All my white folks is daid 'cept 'Missie Kattie', an' do you know, some year back: she cum to see me. Yessir; her car druv up, right der, to de sidewalk, an' she made all her grandchillun get out an' shake han's wif me. She sho' wuz a fine woman!
"'Ku Klux?' Yes, dey wuz aroun' sometime', but dey didden bother ef you mind your own bizness. But de darkies better not congregate; 'caus' day shore take 'em out an' flag' em. If dey ketch you at a neighbor's house atter dar, you shore better have a pass fum yo' 'Massa.'"