*John Love, 76, was born near Crockett, Texas, a slave of John Smelley.
John tells of the days of Reconstruction, and life in the river bottoms.
He now lives in Marlin, Texas.*
"I's born on de Neches River and spends all my earlies' life right down
in de river bottoms, 'cause I done live in de Brazos bottom, too. Mammy
and pappy 'longed to John Smelley and was Rose and John.
"It was wild down in de Neches bottom den, plenty bears and panthers and
deers and wolves and catamounts, and all kind birds and wild turkeys.
Jes' a li'l huntin' most allus fill de pot dem days. De Indians traps de
wild animals and trade de hides for supplies. We was right near to de
Cherokee and Creek res'vation. I knowed lots of Indians, and some what
was Alabama Indians and done come over here. Dey said de white people
was wrong when dey thinks Alabama mean 'here we rest.' It don't mean dat
a-tall. It mean "people what gathers mulberries.' You see, dem Alabama
Indians right crazy 'bout mulberries and has a day for a feast when de
mulberries gits ripe. Dat where de tribe git its name and de town named
after de tribe.
"Massa Smelley fit in de Mexico War and in de Freedom War, but I don't
know nothin' 'bout de battles. De bigges' thing I 'members am when de
soldiers come back, 'cause dey finds all dey cattle stoled or dead. De
soldiers, both kinds, de 'Federates and Yankees, done took what dey
want. De plantations all growed up in weeds and all de young slaves
gone, and de ones what stayed was de oldes' and faithfulles'.
"Times was hard and no money, and if dere wasn't plenty wild animals
everybody done starve. But after 'while, new folks come in, and has some
money and things picks up a li'l more'n more.
"We has de sugar cane and makes sorghum, and has our own mill. Us all,
mammy and pappy and us chillun, done stay with Massa Smelley long time
after freedom, 'cause we ain't got nowhere to go or nothin'. I'd holp in
de 'lasses mill, and when we grinds dat cane to cook into syrup, dis am
de song:
"'Ain't no more cane on de Neches,
Ain't no more cane on de land;
Oh---- ooooo---- ooooo---- oO!
Done grind it all in 'lasses,
Oh---- ooooo---- ooooo---- oO!
"After I's 'bout growed, I moves to de Brazos bottom and works for a
stockman, den I works for de man what driv de first post on de Houston &
Texas Central right-of-way. I holped build dat railroad from Houston to
Waco, and build de fences and lay de cross-tires. Den I broke wild
hosses for Mr. Curry. He give me my groceries and twenty-five cents a
day. I was sho' proud of de job.
"After dis, I carries de mail from Marlin to Eddy, on hossback. De roads
went through de Brazos bottom. Dey was jes' cowtrails, 'stead of roads.
Dere was a road through dat bottom so bad de white man wouldn't carry
dat mail, so dey gives it to me and I ain't got no better sense dan to
try it. Dat six miles through de bottom was all mudholes and when de
river git out de banks dat was bad. But I helt out for eight years, till
de mail sent by train.
"I knows why dat boll-weevil done come. Dey say he come from Mexico, but
I think he allus been here. Away back yonder a spider live in de
country, 'specially in de bottoms. He live on de cotton leaves and
stalks, but he don't hurt it. Dese spiders kep' de insects eat up. Dey
don't plow deep den, and plants cotton in February, so it made 'fore de
insects git bad.
"Den dey gits to plowin' deep, and it am colder 'cause de trees all cut,
and dey plows up all de spiders and de cold kill dem. Dey plants later,
and dere ain't no spiders left to eat up de boll-weevil.
"I knows an old boll-weevil song, what us sing in de fields:
"De bollweevil is a li'l bug, from Mexico, dey say,
He come try dis Texas soil, and think he better stay,
A-lookin' for a home--jes' lookin' for a home.
"De farmer took de bollweevil and put him in de sand.
Boll weevil said to farmer, 'I'll stand it like a man,
For it's jes' my home--it's jes' my home.'
"First time I seed de weevil, he on de eastern train,
Nex' time I seed dat weevil, he on de Memphis train,
A-lookin' for a home--jes' lookin' for a home.
"If anybody axes you who writ dis li'l song,
It's jes' a dark-skin nigger, with old blue duckin's on."