I stopped this clean, feeble, old Negro--humble as could be--on the edge
of town. He had a basket of groceries taking to his old wife. It was a
small split basket. His taxes worried him. He couldn't get a holt on any
money, so I told him about the Farmers' Loan. He was so scared looking
I felt he didn't tell me all he knew. He looked tired. I gave it up and
jokingly asked him if he had ever been in jail. He said, "I never been
in jail. I never been arrested in my whole life." I laughed good and
thanked him. I told a young woman who had curiously been trying to catch
the conversation from her yard that I feared I frightened the old man
till he couldn't think to tell me all he knew. She said, "Maybe so but
he has a reputation of being good as gold and his word his bond."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Ky (Hezekiah) Steel
West Fifth Avenue (rear), Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 85
Occupation: Yard man
"What is it you want to know? Well, I was born in North Carolina. I know
they brought me here from North Carolina in slavery times. I couldn't
keep no count of it, lady, 'cause I didn't know. I know I was big enough
to walk behind the wagon pickin' up corn. I know that. That was in
slavery times.
"Mr. June Ingraham's father brought me here.
"Oh, that's a long time ago. Mr. June and I was boys together. I was
born in the Ingraham family.
"They carried me from here to Texas. I stayed there till I was grown and
married. Then I come back to Arkansas I got with Mr. June's son and I
been here since.
"Never have gone to school a day. Can't read but I can spell a little.
"I've done most all kinds of work--split rails, cut wood, farm work, and
railroad work on the section.
"Ku Klux come out there where I was in Texas. Didn't bother me--they was
just around first one place, then another.
"I voted once. I guess it was Republican. I don't remember now who I
voted for. I didn't take much interest in politics--only just what I'd
hear somebody say.
"Yankees was camped near us in Texas to keep the wild Indians back. That
was after the War. Yes'm, sure was.
"I know the very night old missis told us we was free. Called all us
slaves up there together. Told us we was just as free as she was. I
always will remember that.
"I stayed there till we got through the crop. Then I went to
Paris, Texas and portered in a little hotel there. Then I went
wagonin'--haulin' stuff.
"They used to whip me in slavery times when they got ready. Need it?
well, they said I did. Hurt my feelin's and hurt my hide too, but they
raised me to do whatever they said.
"This younger generation ain't no good--they ain't raised up like I was.
Things is a whole lot different than they used to be. The folks ain't
prayin' to God like they used to. Ain't livin' right.
"I had two brothers killed in time of the War. That's what the old
people told me after I come back from Texas.
"Yes'm, I've had plenty to eat all my life--up until now; I ain't got so
much now.
"I keep the rheumatism pretty much all the time but I ain't never been
down sick so I couldn't help myself.
"I'm telling you just what I know and what I don't know I couldn't tell
you. Good-bye."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person Interviewed: Maggie Stenhouse,
(a mile down the railway track),
Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: 72?
"Mama was owned by Master Barton. She lived on the line of North
Carolina and South Carolina. Her husband was sold away from her and two
children. She never seen him no more. Rangments was made with Master
Barton to let Master Liege Alexander have her for a cook. Then she went
to Old Pickens, South Carolina. Liege Alexander had a white wife and by
her he had two girls and a boy. He had a black cook and by her he had
two boys and a girl. One of these boys was my papa and I told you the
old man bought my mama from Master Barton for his colored son. My papa
never was sold you see cause he was the old white man's boy. After his
white wife died his two girls married and the boy left Old Pickens, and
they told his colored wife and her two boys and girl if they would stay
and take care of him as long as he lived they could have the property.
My papa went off five or six miles and built him a log house.
"The old man--Master Liege Alexander--was blind when his wife died and
he had to be tended to like a child. He would knock his stick on the
wall and some of the small children would lead him about where he wanted
to go. His white children didn't like the way he had lived so they
didn't want to be bothered with him.
"My parents' names was Cheney Barton and Jim Alexander. Papa was medium
dark and so was his own brother but their sister was as white as the
woman's two girls and boy.
"After the railroads sprung up the town moved to New Pickens.
"Master Liege Alexander had lots of slaves and land. I reckon the white
wife's children fell heir to the farm land.
"My aunt and grandma cooked for him till he died. They kept him clean
and took care of him like as if his white wife was living. The colored
wife and her girl waited on the white wife and her children like queens.
That is what papa said.
"Durin' slavery there was stockmen. They was weighed and tested. A man
would rent the stockman and put him in a room with some young women he
wanted to raise children from. Next morning when they come to let him
out the man ask him what he done and he was so glad to get out. Them
women nearly kill him. If he said nothin' they wouldn't have to pay for
him. Them women nearly kill him. Some of the slave owners rented these
stockmen. They didn't let them work in the field and they kept them fed
up good.
"Fore the Civil War broke out mama said Master Barton hid a half bushel
solid gold and silver coins over the mountains. He had it close to the
spring awhile. Mama had to go by it to tote water to the house. She said
she never bothered it. He said he could trust her and she wouldn't
tell a lie. He took another sack of money over the mountains and the
silverware. His wife died during the war. A lot of people died from
hearing of the war--heart failure. I don't know what become of his
money. He lost it. He may forgot where he hid it. It was after his wife
died that he sold mama to Jim Alexander's papa.
"The Yankees rode three years over the country in squads and colored
folks didn't know they was free. I have seen them in their old uniforms
riding around when I was a child. White folks started talking about
freedom fore the darkies and turning them loose with the clothes they
had on and what they could tote away. No land, no home, no place; they
roamed around.
"When it was freedom the thing papa done was go to a place and start out
share croppin'. Folks had no horses or mules. They had to plough new
ground with oxen. I ploughed when I was a girl, ploughed oxen. If you
had horses or mules and the Yankees come along three or four years after
the war, they would swap horses, ride a piece, and if they had a chance
swap horses again. Stealing went on during and long after the war.
"The Ku Klux was awful in South Carolina. The colored folks had no
church to go to. They gather around at folks' houses to have preaching
and prayers. One night we was having it at our house, only I was the
oldest and was in another room sound asleep on the bed. There was a
crowd at our house. The Ku Klux come, pulled off his robe and door face,
hung it up on a nail in the room, and said, 'Where's that Jim Jesus?' He
pulled him out the room. The crowd run off. Mama took the three little
children but forgot me and run off too. They beat papa till they thought
he was dead and throwed him in a fence corner. He was beat nearly to
death, just cut all to pieces. He crawled to my bed and woke me up and
back to the steps. I thought he was dead--bled to death--on the steps.
Mama come back to leave and found he was alive. She doctored him up and
he lived thirty years after that. We left that morning.
"The old white woman that owned the place was rich--big rich. She been
complaining about the noise--singing and preaching. She called him
Praying Jim Jesus till he got to be called that around. He prayed in
the field. She said he disturbed her. Mama said one of the Ku Klux she
knowed been raised up there close to Master Barton's but papa said he
didn't know one of them that beat on him.
"Papa never did vote. I don't vote. I think women should vote much as
men. They live under the same law.
"I come to Arkansas about forty-five years ago. Papa brought us to a new
country, thought we could do better. I been farming, cooking, washing. I
can't do my own cooking and washing now. I got rheumatism in my joints,
feet, knees, and hands. We don't get no help of no kind.
"My daughter is in Caldwell, New Jersey at work. She went there to get
work. She heard about it and went and haven't come home. I jes' got one
child."
Interviewer: Beulah Sherwood Hagg
Person interviewed: Mrs. Charlotte E. Stephens
1420 West 15th Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 83
I was born right here in Little Rock. My father was owned by a splendid
family--the Ashleys. The family of Noah Badgett owned my mother and the
children. Pardon me, madam, and I shall explain how that was. In many
cases the father of children born in slavery could not be definitely
determined. There was never a question about the mother. From this you
will understand that the children belonged to the master who owned the
mother. This was according to law.
My father's family name was Andrews. How did it happen that it was not
Ashley?... Oh, my dear, you have been misinformed about all slaves
taking the name of the master who owned them when peace came.... No,
madam. My father was named William Wallace Andrews after his father,
who was an English gentleman. He had come to Missouri in early days and
owned slaves.... Yes, my grandfather was white. The Ashleys brought my
father to Arkansas Territory when they came. They always permitted him
to keep his family name. Many other masters did the same.
From the standpoint of understanding between the white and colored
races, Little Rock has always been a good place to live. The better
class families did not speak of their retainers as slaves; they were
called servants. Both my parents were educated by their masters. Besides
being a teacher and minister my father was a carpenter and expert
cabinet worker.
The first school for Negroes in Little Rock was opened in 1863 and was
taught by my father. I went to school to him. A few months later there
came from the north a company of missionary teachers and opened a school
which I attended until 1867. My father was a minister of the Methodist
Episcopal church for colored people on what is now Eighth and Broadway.
He also had a chapel on the property of Mr. Ashley. You probably know
that during slavery days the slaves belonged to and attended the same
church as their white folks. They sat in the back, or in a balcony built
for them. My father was considered the founder of Wesley Chapel, which
was Methodist Episcopal. From that time until this day I have been a
member of that church. Seventy-three years, I think it is. Before the
break came in the Methodist church, you know, it was all the same, north
and south. After the division on account of slavery the Methodist church
in the south had the word "south" attached. For a long time my father
did not realize that. In 1863 he and his church went back into the
original Methodist church.
In 1867 the Society of Friends--we called them Quakers--came and erected
a large two-story schoolhouse at Sixth and State streets. It was called
Union school. When it was built it was said by the Quakers that it was
to be for the use of colored children forever, but within a year or two
the city bought the property and took charge of the school. As far as
I can now recall, white and colored children never did attend the same
school in Little Rock. There have always been separate schools for the
races. I am able to remember the names of the first teachers in the
Quaker school; J.H. Binford was the principal and his sister taught the
primary department. Other teachers were Miss Anna Wiles (or Ware), Miss
Louise Coffin, Miss Lizzie Garrison, and Sarah Henley.
I was about 11 years old when peace came and was living with my mother
and the other children on the Badgett plantation about 7 miles east of
Little Rock. Mother did laundry and general house work. Being a small
child, all that was asked of me was to run errands and amuse the little
white children. Madam, if I could tell you the great difference between
slave owners it would help you in understanding conditions of today
among the colored people. Both my father and my mother had peculiar
privileges. The Ashley family were exceptional slave owners; they
permitted their servants to hire their time. There was class
distinction, perhaps to greater extent than among the white people. Yes,
madam, the slaves who lived in the family with master and mistress were
taught just about the same as their own children. At any rate, they
imitated them in all matters; to speak with a low voice, use good
English, the niceties of manners, good form and courtesy in receiving
and attending guests.
I began teaching in Little Rock schools when I was 15 years old and am
still teaching. In all, it is 69 years, and my contract is still good.
My first experience as a teacher, (as I told you I was fifteen) was by
substituting for a teacher in that first Missionary school, in 1869. For
some reason, she did not return, and the School Board appointed me in
her place. After one year I was given leave of absence to attend Oberlin
College in Ohio. I spent three years there, but not in succession. When
my money would give out I would come home and the School Board would
provide work for me until I could earn enough to carry me through
another term. I finished at Oberlin in 1873. I extended my work through
courses at Normal schools and Teacher's Institutes. I have taken lecture
courses in many colleges, notably the University of California in 1922.
I have taught all grades from the first to the twelfth. My principal
work, for the last 35 years, however, has been high school Latin and
English and Science.
At present I am serving as librarian at the Senior high school and
Junior College. I have twice served as principal of city schools in
Little Rock. First at Capitol Hill. The Charlotte E. Stephens school at
18th and Maple was named in my honor. I have a book I have kept for 68
years regarding those first schools, and I'm told it is the only one
in existence. I also have the first monthly report card ever issued in
Little Rock. Mr. Hall (Superintendent of Little Rock City Schools) has
asked me to will it to the School Board.
I could recall many interesting events of those early schools for the
colored race. Old, old slaves came, desiring to learn to read and spell.
They brought the only books they could find, many of which proved to be
almanacs, paper bound novels discarded by their mistress and ancient
dictionaries, about half of which might be missing.
Yes, madam, I do remember that the emancipated slaves were led to
believe they would be given property and have just what their masters
had been accustomed to enjoy. I remember hearing my mother tell, in
later years, that she really had expected to live as her mistress had;
having some one to wait upon her, plenty of money to spend, ride in a
carriage with a coachman. But she always added that the emancipated ones
soon found out that freedom meant more work and harder than they had
ever done before.
What did they work at? Pardon me please for so often reminding you of
conditions of that time. Few of the trades workers were white. Brick
makers and brick layers, stone masons, lathers, plasters,--all types of
builders were of the freed men. You must remember that slaves were the
only ones who did this work. Their masters had used their labor as their
means of income. Not all slaves were in the cotton fields, as some
suppose. The slave owners of towns and villages had their slaves learn
skilled trade occupations and made a great deal of money by their
earnings. The Yankee soldiers and the many Northern people who lived
here hired the freed men and paid them. Quite soon the colored people
were buying homes. Many were even hired by their former masters and paid
for the work they formerly did without pay under slavery.
I remember Bill Read and Dave Lowe. They had been coachmen before
freedom. By combining their first savings, they bought a hack, as it was
called. It was more of a cab. For all those who did not have private
conveyances, this was the only way of getting about town. It was Little
Rock's first taxi-cab business, I should say. Bill and Dave made a
fortune; they had a monopoly of business for years and eventually had
enough cabs to take the entire population to big evening parties,
theater, and all places where crowds would gather.
No, madam, I do not recall that we had any inconvenience from the Ku
Klux Klan. If they made trouble in Little Rock I do not now remember it.
I did hear that out in the country they drove people from their homes.
Yes, madam, I do remember, quite distinctly, the times when colored men
were voted into public offices. John C. Corbin was State Superintendent
of Public Instruction. Phillips county sent two colored men to the
legislature; they were W.H. Gray and H.H. White, both from Helena.
J.E. Bush of this city followed M.W. Gibbs as Police Judge. After
reconstruction when all colored people were eliminated from public life
all these people returned to their trade.
I was 22 when I married. My husband was a teacher but knew the carpenter
trade. During the time that Negroes served in public office he served as
deputy sheriff and deputy constable. He was with me for 41 years before
his death; we raised a family of six children and gave each one a
college education.
Now, you have asked my opinion of present conditions of the younger
generation. It seems to me they are living in an age of confusion; they
seem to be all at sea as to what they should get for themselves. I do
know this. In some respects the modern frankness is an improvement over
the old suppression and repression in the presence of their elders.
At the same time, I think the young people of today lack the proper
reverence and respect for age and the experience it brings as a guide
for them. During my long years of teaching I have had opportunity to
study this question. I am still making a study of the many phases of
modern life as it affects the young people. I do not like the trend
of amusements of today; I would like for our young people to become
interested in things more worth while; in a higher type of amusement.
Conditions of morality and a lack of regard for conventions is
deplorable. Smoking among the girls has increased the common use of
liquor between the sexes.
Did you ask me about the voting restrictions for the colored race in
this State? I will tell you frankly that I think the primary law here is
unjust; most unjust. We are citizens in every other respect; the
primary voting privilege should be ours also. This restriction has been
explained as coming down from "the grandfather clause" inserted in early
legislation. I cannot give you the exact wording of the clause but
the substance was that no person whose ancestor--grandfather--was not
entitled to vote _before_ 1863 should have the right to the ballot.
Of course it is readily seen that this clause was written purely for the
purpose of denying the vote to the colored people.
Perhaps, madam, my talk has been too much along educational lines. You
asked me about my life since freedom came and how I have lived to the
present time. I have had the blessed privilege of being a teacher--of
doing the work I love best of all in the world to do. I have written the
story of my life work; it is all ready to be published. I have written
"The Story of Negro Schools in Little Rock" and "Memoirs of Little
Rock." Madam, I have written, I suppose, what would amount to volumes
for our church papers and local Negro newspaper. My daughter was, at one
time, editor of the Womens' Page. No, I'm indeed sorry that I have not
kept a scrapbook of such writings. In these latter years my friends
scold me for having destroyed all the papers as fast as they were read.
The most of the news in the articles, however, I have used in the
manuscripts of the books I hope to have published.
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: William J. Stevens, Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: Up in 70's
"I was born in Pleasant Hill, Alabama. My owners were Haley and Missouri
Stevens. They owned Grandma Mary. Pa was born on the place. Mother was
sold from the Combesses to Stevens. Mother's mother was a Turk Dark
Creek Indian. She was a free woman. Her name was Judy. I called her
Grandma Judy. She was old but not gray. She had long black hair as I
remember her. Mother was named Millie. Haley bought her for my pa. _My
pa's father was Haley Stevens' own son_. He was his coachman. Pa
never worked a great deal. Mother never cooked till after emancipation.
She was the house girl and nurse. Life moved along smoothly as much as I
ever heard till freedom come on. The Indians was independent folks. My
mother was like that. Haley Stevens took his family to Texas soon as
freedom come on. Mother went with them. They treated her so nicely. Pa
wouldn't follow. He said she thought more of them than she did him. He
kept me with him. He married again. He was a barber at Selma, Alabama.
He died a barber at Anniston, Alabama. While my mother was in Texas
she went to see her mother in Hickory, Alabama. She was talking with a
tramp. He had helped my pa in the shop at Selma. Mother took the train
and come to pa's and my stepmother's house. I was fourteen years old
then and still wore a long shirt-like dress. They treated her the
nicest kind. She told them she was married to a man named Sims down in
Mississippi. She went back. I don't know where. The barber business was
a colored man's trade in the early days.
"Soon after freedom I made two trips a day and carried my young
mistress' books to school. It was a mile for us to go 'round the road to
Pleasant Hill. She married C.C. Williams. I cooked for her. I cooked her
daughter's weddin' supper. She had two girls, Maude and Pearl. I worked
there fourteen years for my clothes and something to eat. Then I went to
myself. When I wasn't cooking I worked in Mr. C.C. Williams' sash and
blind factory. They was big rich folks. Mrs. Williams had a hundred rent
houses. She went about in her carriage and collected rent. That was at
Meridian, Mississippi. They learned me more than an education--to work.
She learned me to cook. I cooked all my life. I cooked here at the
Rusher Hotel till I got so old I was not able to do the work.
"I do little odd jobs of work where I can find them. I 'plied for the
Old Age Pension but they give me commodities and that's all. I supports
my own self such as it be.
"I find the young generation don't stick to jobs like I had to do. Seems
like they want an education to keep them out of work. Education does
some good and some more harm than good. Oh, times! Times is going fast.
Well with some I reckon. Some like me is done left. I mean I got slower.
Time getting faster. I'm done left outen the game. Time wait for no
man."
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Minnie Johnson Stewart
3210 W. Sixteenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: Between 50 and 60?
"My mother's name was Mahala McElroy. Her master's name was Wiley
McElroy. She was living in Howard County, Arkansas near Nashville. She
worked in the field, and sewed in the house for her mistress. One time
she said she never would forget about slavery was a time when she was
thirteen years old, and the overseer beat her.
"My mother was a real bright woman with great long black hair. Her
master was her father. She told me that the overseer grabbed her by her
hair and wound it 'round his arm and then grabbed her by the roots of it
and jerked her down to the ground and beat her till the blood ran out of
her nose and mouth. She was 'fraid to holler.
"Mother married when she was fourteen. I can't remember the name of
her husband. The preacher was an old man, a faith doctor, who read the
ceremony. His name was Lewis Hill.
"I heard mother say they beat my brother-in-law (his name was Dave
Denver) till he was bloody as a hog. Then they washed him down in salt
and water. Then they beat him again because he hollered.
"She told us how the slaves used to try to pray. They were so scared
that the overseer would see them that early in the morning while they
were going to their work in the field at daybreak that they would fall
down on one knee and pray. They were so 'fraid that the overseer would
catch them that they would be watching for him with one eye and looking
for God with the other. But the Lord understood.
"My mother was seventy years old when she died. She has been dead thirty
years."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Liza Stiggers, Forrest City, Arkansas
Age: 70 plus
"I was born in Poplar Grove, Arkansas on Col. Bibbs' place. Mama was
sold twice. Once she was sold in Georgia, once in Alabama, and brought
to Tennessee, later to Arkansas. Master Ben Hode brought her to
Arkansas. She had ten children and I'm the only one living. Mama was a
dancing woman. She could dance any figure. They danced in the cabins and
out in the yards.
"The Yankees come one day to our house and I crawled under the house. I
was scared to death. They called me out. I was scared not to obey and
scared to come on out. I come out. They didn't hurt me. Mr. Ben Hode hid
a small trunk of money away. He got it after the War. The slaves never
did know where it was hid. They said the hair was on the trunk he hid
his money in. It was made out of green hide for that purpose.
"Mama had a slave husband. He was a field hand and all kind of a hand
when he was needed. Mama done the sewing for white and black on the
place. She was a maid. She could cook some in case they needed her. She
died first. Papa's foot got hurt some way and it et off. He was so old
they couldn't cure it. He was named Alfred Hode. Mama was Viney Hode.
She said they had good white folks. They lived on Ben Hode's place two
or three years after freedom.
"I farmed, cooked, and ironed all my life. I don't know how to do
nothing else.
"I live with my daughter. I got a son."
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: James Henry Stith
2223 W. Nineteenth Street
Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 72
"I was born la Sparta in Hancock County, Georgia, in January 26, 1866.
My father was named William Henry Stith, and I was a little tot less
than two years old when my mother died. My father has called her name
often but I forget it. I forget the names of my father's father, too,
and of mother's people. That is too far back.
"My father was born in 1818. He was born in Georgia. His master was
named W.W. Simpson. He had a master before Simpson. Simpson bought him
from somebody else. I never can remember the man's name.