Interview with Fil Hancock,Rolla, Missouri."Uncle" Fil Hancock
The following interview, bristling with facts and vivid recollections covering more than three quarters of a century was obtained recently by a worker employed by the Federal Writers' Project in Missouri from "Uncle" Fil Hancock, eighty-six year old Negro, living at Rolla, Missouri. The old man's story, told as nearly as possible in his own dialect runs thus:
"I was born 1851, de 28th day of February. My granny come here with her missus-Hancock—when dey brung de Cherokee Indian tribe here from middlin' Tennessee, de time dey moved de Missouri Indians back to Oklahoma, what dey called Indian Territory way back 'bout 135 or 140 years ago. Our old missus maiden name was Riggs. My old master was Scotch-Irish. A big, red faced man wid sandy hair, mostly baldheaded. Us little niggers was scairt of him and run and hid when we see him coming. He weren't 'lowed to whip us, 'cause he didn't own us. Our old missus had eleven of us and he had twenty-one niggers of his own. And our old missus wouldn't let him tech us.
"We had to mind him though. But she done de whipping. My own mammy whipped us good and proper—She used a razor strop, and shore poured it on us. She was puny and sick most all de time. Dey said she had consumption, now-days dey calls it T.B. But it was plain old consumption in dem days. I 'member, she were so sick dat she were not able to hold us an' whip us, and she made one of us little niggers push de other one up to her bed while she whipped us. We took our turns in gittin' a whipping. Poor old mammy, she loved us and wanted us to do right. We never got a whipping 'ceptin' we needed it. Old granny, my mammy's mother and old missus whipped us a little, an only wid buckbresh, jes' a little 'roun' de ankles. All us little niggers was jes' like stairsteps, one after de other. I got whipped plenty, but I needed it.
"My ol' missus Hancock named me herself—called me Filmore Taylor Hancock, after two presidents who took der seats in 1850. Ol' Colonel Hancock was our master an' he was de richest man in Greene County, Missouri, and owned more slaves than any man in Missouri. His wife, old missus was born in 1804. My own granny on my mammy's side was born in 1805. My granny was given to missus, as her own de day she was born. 'Course old missus was only a year old den. Der was thirty-two of us slaves on our old missus place, and eleven of us sprung from old granny.
"We had five young missus. My young missus names were Winnie, Elizabeth, Lucinda, Luella, and Tennessee. Dey was so rich and proud, dey wouldn't look at any body to marry. Only two of 'em ever married. Dey was fine ladies, but dey shore had me plumb spilt. Some of dem whipped me three or four times, but I 'member how dey jes' breshed me a little roun' de legs, and turn away and laugh a little. I can see now I needed more'n I got. If I told a lie I got whipped for it, and old missus poured it on if we lied.
"I and de other two gals, my sisters and a brudder of mine—well, when our mammy died, old missus took us down to her house, away from our cabin, so she could look after us. Our old granny was de white folk's cook. She helped look after us. We got to eat what de white folk did. Up to de cabins where de other niggers was, had salt meat, cabbage, 'taters, and shortnin' bread three times a day. We all had plenty vegetables we raised ourselves. Every Sunday mornin' our missus sent us up a big tray 'bout three feet long, made of sycamore—and it full of flour. Once a week we had hot biscuits. But me and Squire, my brudder and my sisses, Mary and Margot had it a little better, we had what our old missus had. I was ten years an' six months old when de war come up.
"In '61, I see General Lyons, when he passed right by our house. All de Union sojers had to pass by our house time of de war. We lived on the main wagon road from Rolla to Springfield. Well child, Lordy me! dat's funny for me to tell you how General Lyon look. It was a sight to see him with them 'purties'! And we asked old missus what dat was, them 'purties' he had on his shoulders. She says to us chillun: 'He is de general. All dem odder men got to mind him'. He was killed in dat battle of Wilson Creek. Dey kept him in an icehouse in a spring, owned by a man named Phelps. He lived west of Springfield. Dey keep General Lyon two weeks, 'fore they brung him down dis-a-way. Dey shipped him out of Rolla to Connecticut—dat's what I hear de ol folks says. Dat man Phelps was our neighbor and later he got to be governor of Missouri in 1876. Crittenden was first de Democratic governor in '73.
"Old missus called us little darkies all up—and carried us down to de wagon General Lyon's body was in, when dey was bringin' him back here. And we looked at him and asked what was de matter. Old missus said 'He was killed.' He was packed in ice in de wagon and de wagon had four mules hitched to it. I wanted to know if he was de man who had dem 'purties' on his shoulders. She said 'Yes'.
"I said, 'Did marse Bill and marse George and marse Jeff Hancock hep kill him?' She said: 'Yes'. Marse Bill, marse George an' marse Jeff was my young bosses, my old master's sons. Old missus didn't seem glad or anything, jes' looked kinda sad. We asked her would he ever fight again. She said, 'No'. I won't ever forget how General Lyon looked. He rode a kinda gray-white horse when I first see him and looked so tall and proud like.
"De rebels held Springfield from 1861 till 1862, when General Freemont come in and took it. Marmaduke and Price had de biggest armies of de southerners, Freemont come sneaking in, wrapped his wagon wheels with old blankets so dey wouldn't hear him coming, and he had a body guard of three hundred. Marmaduke and Price was den in Springfield. Freemont come 'bout daybreak, and started shooting de town up. He got de town and held it.
"Marmaduke and Price drifted 'round to de Southeast part of de State and went into Arkansas. Later dey had a three hour scrummage at Pea Ridge, Arkansas. Either 62 or 63, I kaint 'member much, I was too little and scairt to know. Being only ten or eleven years old. Dey was a man named Finis McCrae, a rebel in de Marmaduke and Price Army, in de infantry. He took sick some place in Arkansas. Dey brung him to us, we being rebels, and keep him two weeks in our up-stairs, not letting any one know he was dere. We kept him till he got better and he went back into de army and fit some more.
"I seen Marmaduke in person, when he was making his campaign for governor, down in Cuba, Missouri. All de Union sojers stopped at our house to get water. We had a runnin' stream that never did go dry. They filled their canteens there. All us chillun fussed 'bout 'em takin' our milk and butter outen de spring-house. Old missus keep all her milk and butter and cheese in dere to keep it cool. When de Union sojers come by our house to Rolla dey took so much of de water to fill dere canteens it nearly took our spring dry. Took every thing we had in de spring-house—milk, butter—everything.
"I don't 'member how dey was dressed, but dey all had on sumpin' blue. Uniforms I guess. Me and four more little darkies was one-half mile offen de big road when dey passed, and got scared and run back to old missus house and hid in de old barn loft all dat night. Old missus asked us what we did for sumpin' to eat. We told her we bent de rye down in de field and rubbed de grain out wid our hands and eat dat. She took us to de house and give us sompin' to eat. De sojers was still passing de house den.
"In time of de Civil War we wouldn't come down to Rolla, we went south to do our trading. We wasn't Union and Rolla was Union Headquarters. Old Master was getting old den, he had been a colonel in some army or other way 'fore de Civil War.
"Lincoln issued 'green backs' 'long 'bout '61 or '62, after Stephen A. Douglas goes up to Washington and tell Lincoln, after he got de 'nomination dat if he didn't get Jeff Davis and some of de leaders and prosecute 'em, he was going to have war on his hands. Lincoln tells Douglas to go back and tell Jeff Davis to lay dem guns down, dat in 90 days he would 'low dem so much a head for dere niggers. Dat if dey would free dem dey could be paid for so much a head, by taxation. But Lincoln told dem dey would all have to come back together again same as before like dey was. You see dese folks in de south had done got $8,000,000, all dat ammunition and guns and things from England. Jeff Davis and dem leaders wouldn't give it up.
"De first issue of greenbacks was $175,000,000 and de next issue was $250,000,000. We had been told all dis and I ask old missus if she reckon we could whip dem 'blue bellied yankees'. I says: 'Dey ain't got no money'.
"We called de Union sojers—'Yankees' and our side was called de Gray or de Rebels. It's 75 years, the 10th day of August, 1937, that General Lyon was killed.
"My boss—Hancock was de biggest slave holder in Missouri when de war first come up. He settled four miles east of Springfield, Missouri. He owned close to 1200 or 1500 acres of ground. From Springfield to Strafford—east. We had 375 acres in cultivation—corn, oats, wheat, rye, and clover was our main crops.
"My daddy belonged to a man named Lou Langston. There is a railroad station named for this same Langston. What was known as the 'Gulf Road.' I took my mammy's white folk's name. They were as fine and good as anybody. The first child old missus had was a boy, Bill Hancock. The first child my old granny had (on my mammy's side) was a boy, named Joe. Old missus gave granny's boy Joe, to her boy Bill, as a slave. You see my old missus and my old granny was born a year apart demselves.
"One time my old master Hancock, got mad at my uncle, who was a growed up nigger. Old marse wanted to whip him. He tried to make my uncle put his head twixt his (old marser's) knees. My uncle didn't offer to fight him, but twisted him roun' and roun' trying to get his head out. He gave one twist dat throwed old marse down to de ground. My uncle jumped and run and jumped over de fence. My uncle did not belong to old marse but to his son, Bill. But old marse sure got mad when my uncle run. So he sold him to a man named Dokes—a nigger trader of dat neighborhood. Dokes bought niggers and sold dem on de block in St. Louis. When Dokes took my uncle away, one of our neighbors by de name of Fisher—up near Strafford, gits on his horse and goes to Springfield and tells my young boss, Bill, dat old man Hancock had sold Joe and Jane. Jane belonged to Marse Hancock. Mister Fisher had only one colored man, and he told my young boss, Bill, dat if he would buy both them niggers back, dat he would buy Jane for his (Fisher's) colored man. He didn't have no woman for him.
"Old Dokes was on his way den to St. Louis with 'em. Bill and Fisher started out, rode and caught up with dem near what is now known as Knob View, Missouri. When dey come in sight of Dokes, Bill stopped and dropped back. Fisher goes up to de wagon, stopped Dokes and asked him what he would take for Joe and Jane. They was settin' up in the wagon handcuffed together. I think it was a thousand dollars or fifteen hundred dollars he asked for both. Den Fisher beckoned to Bill Hancock to come on. Bill come up and paid Dokes what he asked. Dokes was to take 'em back, hisself, to dere own neighborhood.
"When marse Bill rode up, my uncle said, 'Take these handcuffs off me'. Mr. Dokes took them off. My uncle jumped out of de wagon and run up to de big mule my young boss was settin' on, he reached up an' took Bill, his marster off dat mule so quick and lay him down on de ground. He commenced to love and kiss him on side of his head. He picked him up and sat marse Bill on his mule again and said, 'I know marse Bill wasn't goin' to let me be sold.' He takes him off his mule again and lay him down two times more and keep lovin' and kissin' him, he was dat happy.
"But old marse Hancock, jes' wouldn't let Joe live on his place again, no more. He was dat mad. It made him so mad to think Joe had turn him over when he had his legs twixt his knees. But young marse Bill took Joe to Springfield and hired him out to a blacksmith by de name of Lehr. He got forty dollars a month for him. Joe stayed dere till de Civil War. Old master let Joe come to de house to see his mother, my old granny, once in a while, but never to live.
"Old man Fisher bought de colored woman from marse Bill, for his colored man, and paid him as he could. Our white folks had plenty of money to get any thing they wanted.
"I first come to Rolla in 1869 and stayed till 1870. Then dere was only one brick house in Rolla, standin' where the Edwin Long Hotel now stands. Den I left and went to Cuba and stayed dere and at Salem til' 1882. I come back to Rolla when de Crandel House was built, where de Rolla Hospital now is located. I started a barber shop here under the Crandel House basement. I have been here and at Salem ever since 1882, Rolla my headquarters.
"If I can leave enough when I die, I want to be buried at the Union Graveyard in Greene County, Missouri, where my mammy is buried since three years before the Civil War. My daddy was buried there in 1863.
"When I was young, we didn't know nuthin' 'bout churches. Us kids never got to go no place 'less de old niggers took us. And dey wouldn't take us. De older ones had church out in de brash, under de shade trees.
"I kin 'member one of my cousins carryin' me pick-a-back, one time, three miles to church. Dey only had church in de summer time, or meeting dey called it. It was allus in de woods. We dassen't be ketched wid a book to read or to try to be educated. Course every one wasn't treated dat-a-way. Sometimes de niggers would have dancin', if de bosses or masters gave dem passes. De passes read sumpin' like dis: 'Let my nigger file pass and repass to such and such a place'.
"I 'member once, my missus bought me a pair of high top red boots. My! I was proud. In dem days, we went barefoot most all year round. But my missus tried to make us happy on Christmas. I put dem boots on and I pranced round and round jes' to hear dem squeak. I done thought dat was de purtiest noise I ever heard. I asked old missus, could I go to old Massy's house. He were our neighbor, 'bout half mile—but it were dark. Old missus said, 'Hain't you scared to go?' I say, 'No'. I went up de road, my boots squeaking and squeaking. Didn't have time to be scared—listenin' to dem boots.
"Aunt Rachel, my own aunt, lived at Massy's house. You see Masseys was dere name and dey was white folks but we say Massy's house. I wanted my old aunt to see my new boots. When I got dere I called my aunt to come see my boots. She come and say, 'Hain't you scared to come here all 'lone'. I say, 'no'. I twisted and turn, round and round so she could hear 'em squeak. But when it come time to go home, I got plum' scared. Aunt Rachel had to take me. She took me where I could see our house. My! How old missus laughed when she found I had to be brung home. She say, 'I told you, you be scared to come alone'.
"In dem days no nigger got boots till he was big and able to work for 'em. I was old missus pet and she plum' spilt me. I allus got more'n de odder niggers got. Boys had cotton shirts and de gals had cotton dresses.
"You know it's a funny thing, de white folks took everything from us niggers, even try to take our old songs and have dem on de radio. We niggers say 'De white folks take everything, dis, dat, an' t'other, but what we got is jes' natural borned to us.'
"I knocks a tamborine jes' like de Georgia niggers played a tambourine, 'fore de Civil War. Dem Georgia minstrels was taken over to England to perform 'fore de Queen Victoria, way 'fore Civil War. Folks from way up East got 'em and took 'em. Dey ain't many plays like dem no more."
"Uncle" Fil, as he was familiarly known in Rolla, played for the Folk Festival in Rolla and received so much applause, he had to be helped off the stage. He is exceedingly active. He plays the old tambourine, (he owned so many years) under and over his legs, behind his head, bouncing it and catching it, never losing the rhythm an instant.
He is tall and erect, and has a remarkable memory, especially for dates, names and places. He loves children, and usually has a pocket full of pennies for the babies. His home is a one-room hut (plain shed building) back of the Post Office on Ninth Street, Rolla, Missouri. He lives alone and has no living relatives. The people of Rolla aid him with gifts.
Uncle "Fil's" favorite old spiritual is below. He says: "Dis song, I'm a tellin' you, is de truf."
Dis Is My Buryin' Groun'Ask my Lord for mercy,Good Lord, gimme religion,Good Lord, gimme me a heart to b'lieve,Dis is de buryin' groun'.Amen, Hallelujah. Dis is de buryin' groun'.Tell your mother,Tell your father,Dis is de buryin' groun',Tell all your neighbors,Tell all your neighbors chillun,Dis is de buryin' groun'.
Uncle Fil says, "Niggers jes' makes dey own verses, jes' naturally comes to us, and we make our own rhyme as we go."
One of the humorous songs, a favorite of his, goes:
You, by word, now all we go,In fact we spoke both high and low,In the house and out of doors,Ebening in the baby's nose.When I was young an' in my prime,I'se a countin' courtin' them gals,Most all de time.Now I'm old and you will see,I'm not as young as I used to be.Now when the elephant moves aroun'The music begins to play,Oh, the boys aroun' dat monkey's cageI'd better keep away.Rock the cradle John,Rock the cradle John,Many a man is rockin' another man's sonWhen he thinks he's rockin' his own.