The question of eating special food on a particular day immediately
brings in mind Thanksgiving Day, when turkey becomes the universal dish.
Perhaps no other day in the year can be so designated, except among a
few religious orders when the eating of meat is strictly prohibited on
certain days.
The belief that negroes are particularly addicted to eating pork is well
founded, as witness the sales of pork to colored people in most any meat
market. But who could imagine that cotton-seed was once the universal
food eaten in this vicinity by the colored people? That, according to
Doc Quinn, a former slave, and self-styled exmember of Cullen Baker's
Gang, was the custom before and shortly after the Civil War.
The cotton-seed would be dumped into a hugh pot, and boiled for several
hours, the seed gradually rising to the top. The seed would then be
dipped off with a ladle. The next and final step would be to pour
corn-meal into the thick liquid, after which it was ready to be eaten.
Cotton-seed, it must be remembered, had little value at that time,
except as livestock feed.
"Yes suh, Cap'n," the old negro went on to explain. "I has never eaten
anything whut tasted any better, or whut would stick to your ribs like
cotton-seed, and corn-meal cake. Rich? Why dey's nuthin dat is more
nutritious. You never saw a healthier or finer lookin' bunch of negroes
dan wuz on Colonel Harvey's place.
"I 'member one time tho' when he changed us off cotton-seed, but we
didn't stay changed fo' long. No suh. Of all de grumblin' dem niggers
did, becase dey insides had got so used to dat cotton-seed and corn-meal
dey wouldn't be satisfied wid nothing else."
"One mornin' when about forty of us niggers had reported sick, de
Mahster came down to de qua'ters. 'Whut ailin' ye' lazy neggers?' he
asked. Dem niggers los' about fifty pounds of weight apiece, and didn'
feel like doin' anything. 'Mahster,' I say. 'Iffen you'll have de wimmen
folks make us a pot full of dat cotton-seed and corn-meal, we'll be
ready to go to work.' And as long as I work fo' Colonel Harvey, one uv
de bes' men whut ever lived, we always had cotton-seed and corn-meal to
eat."
Texarkana District
FOLKLORE SUBJECTS
Name of Interviewer: Mrs. W.M. Ball
Subject: Anecdotes of an Aged Ex-Slave.
Subject: Superstitious Beliefs Among Negroes. (Negro lore)
Story:--Information:
Information given by: Doc Quinn
Place of Residence: 12th & Ash Sts., Texarkana, Ark.
Occupation: None (Ex-Slave)
Age: 92
[TR: Information moved from bottom of second page.]
[TR: Repetitive information deleted from subsequent pages.]
"Mah young marster wuz Joe Ogburn. Me and him growed up togedder an' I
wuz his body guard durin' de wahr. Many's de day I'ze watched de smoke
ob battle clear away an' wait fo' de return ob mah marster. All de time
I felt we wuz born to win dat wahr, but God knowed bes' an' you know de
result.
"Three years ago I went to Little Rook wid Mr. Fisher. Lac' all folks
whut goes to dis city, we wend our way to de Capitol to see de Governor.
Gov. Futtrell sittin' bac' in his great fine office, saw me and jined me
in conversation. De fus' question he axed me wuz 'whut party does yo'
'filiate wif?' I sez, 'de Democrat--de party whut's a frien' to de
nigger.' De Governor axed me how does I lac' dis life? I sez 'very well,
tho' things has changed since slavery days. Those wuz good ole days for
de black man; didn't hafter worry about nuthin'. Now, I sho' does mah
share ob worryin'. I worries from one meal to de odder, I worries about
whure I'ze gwine get some mo' clothes when dese wears out?'
"I tole de Governor mah 'sperience wif de Republican Party durin' de
wahr. I been hung fo' times in mah life an' one ob de times by de
Republicans. Long time ago, Mr. Roy Nash an' Mr. Hugh Sutton wuz a
settin' ovah de ballot box on 'lection day, when I voted 80 Democrats.
Yas, suh; I jus' marches 'em in an' tells 'em how to cas' dey vote. Dat
night, on mah way home frum de votin', goin' down de lonely road, I wuz
stopped an' strung up to a tree by de neck. Dey 'splained dat I wuz too
'fluential wid de niggers. When I wuz hangin' dere I did some manful
howlin'. Dat howlin' sho brought de white folks. When dey see mah
distres' dey 'leased de rope an' I wuz saved. Dat is when I 'pealed to
Col. Baker for 'tection. He wuz mah frien' as long as he lib, and he wuz
a good frien' ob de South 'cause he saved lots ob white folks frum de
wrath ob de mean niggers."
(Note: The Col. Baker referred to was Cullen Baker, the leader of a
ruthless gang of bushwhackers that operated in this section shortly
after the Civil War.)
Doc Quinn tells a "ghost story" connected with the old church at Rondo,
built in 1861.
"De Masonic Hall wuz built up ovah dis buildin' an' ever month dey had
dey meetin'. One night, when dey was 'sembled, two men wuz kilt. Dat
sho' did scatter dat lot ob Masons and frum dat time on de spirits ob
dese men roamed dis chu'ch. Sometime in de dead ob night, dat bell wud
ring loud an' clear, wakin' all de folks. Down dey wud come, clos' like,
to de chu'ch,--but scared to go closer. Mr. Bill Crabtree, a rich man
an' a man whut wuz scared too, offered anybody $100.00 to go inside dat
chu'ch an' stay one hour. Didn't nobody need dat $100.00 dat bad!"
The old negro tells the following grave yard story:
"One dark, drizzly night, de niggers wuz out in de woods shootin' craps.
I didn't hab no money to jine in de game. One nigger say, "Doc, effen
you go down to de cemetey' an' bring bac' one ob dem 'foot boa'ds' frum
one ob dem graves, we'll gib yo' a dollar." I ambles off to de cemete'y,
'cause I really needed dat money. I goes inside, walks careful like, not
wantin' to distu'b nuthin', an' finally de grave stone leapt up in front
ob me. I retches down to pick up de foot boa'd, an' lo! de black cats
wuz habin' a meetin' ovah dat grave an' dey objected to mah intrudin',
but I didn't pay 'em no mind; jus' fetched dat boa'd bac' to dem
niggers, an'--bless de Lawd,--dey gib me two dollars!"