"The onlies sperience I had myself wid the Ku Klux was one night fo
Grandma and auntie left. Somebody wrap on our cabin door. They opened
it. We gat scared when we seed em. They had the horses wrapped up. They
had on white long dresses and caps. Every one of em had a horse whoop
(whip). They called me out. Grandma and auntie so scared they hid. They
tole me to git em water. They poured it some whah it did not spill on
the ground. Kept me totin' water. Then they say, "You bin a good boy?"
They still drinkin'. One say, "Just from Hell pretty dry." Then they
tole me to stand on my head. I turned summer sets a few times. They
tickled me round wid the ends of the whoops. I had on a long shirt. They
laugh when I stand on my head. Old Mars White laughed. I knowed his
laugh. Then I got over my scare. They say, "Who live next down the
road?" I tole em Nells Christian. They say, "What he do?" I said, "Works
in the field." They all grunt, m-m-m-m. Then they say, "Show us the
way." I nearly run to death cross the field to keep outer the way of the
white horses. The moon shining bright as day. They say Nells come out
here. He say "Holy Moses." He come out. They say "Nells what you do?" "I
farms." They say "What you raise?" He say "Cotton and corn." They say
"Take us to see yo cotton we jess from Hell. We ain't got no cotton
there." He took em out there where it was clean. They got down and felt
it. Then they say "What is dat?", feelin' the grass. Nells say "That is
grass." They say, "You raise grass too?" He said, "No. It come up." They
say "Let us see yo corn." He showed em the corn. They felt it. They say
"What this?" Nells say, "It grass." They say, "You raise grass here?"
They all grunt m-m-m-m everything Nells say. They give him one bad
whoopin' an' tell him they be back soon see if he raisin' grass. They
said "You raise cotton and corn but not grass on this farm." They they
moan, "m-m-m-m." I herd em say his whole family and him too was out by
day light wid their hoes cuttin' the grass out their crop. I was sho
glad to git back to our cabin. They didn't come back to Nells no more
that I herd bout. The man Nells worked for muster been one in that
crowd. He lived way over yonder. No I think the Ku Klux was a good thing
at that time. The darkies got sassy (saucy), trifling, lazy. They was
notorious. They got mean. The men wouldn't work. Their families have to
work an' let them roam round over the country. Some of em mean to their
families. They woulder starved the white out and their selves too. I
seed the Ku Klux heap a times but they didn't bother me no more. I herd
a heap they done along after that. They say some places the Ku Klux go
they make em git down an' eat at the grass wid their mouths then they
whoop em. Sometimes they make em pull off their clothes and whoop em. I
sho did feel for em but they knowd they had no business strollin' round,
vistin'. The Ku Klux call that whoopin' helpin' em git rid of the grass.
Nells moster lived at what they called Caneville over cross the field.
"The way that Patty Rollers was. The mosters paid somebody. Always
somebody round wantin' a job like that. Mars White was his own overseer.
All round there was good livers. They worked long wid the slaves. Some
of the slaves would race. Papa would race. He wanted to race all time.
Grandma cooked for all of us. They had a stone chimney in the kitchen.
Big old hearth way out in front. Made outer stone too. We all et the
same victuals long as Mars White lived. Then I left."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: James Dickey, Marianna, Arkansas
Age: 68
[May 31 1939]
"I don't know much to tell about my folks. My parents died when I was
young. Mother died when I was twelve and father when I was seven years
old. Great-grandma was an Indian squaw. My father's pa was his young
master. His old master was named George Dickey. The young master was
John Dickey. I reckon to start with my mother had a husband. She had
twelve children but the last seven was by my pa. He was lighter than I
am and paler. This red is Indian in me. I know how he looked and how she
looked too. The young master never married. He had some brothers. My
father lived with us and his pa was there too some. I don't know what
become of John Dickey but my pa was buried at Mt. Tursey Cemetery. It
was a sorter mixed burying grown (ground) but at a white church. Mother
come here and was buried at Cat Island in a colored church cemetery.
"I farmed in Mississippi, then I come to Miller Lumber Company and I
worked with them forty-two years. I worked at Marked Tree, then they
sent me here (Marianna).
"I voted in Caruthersville, Missouri last I voted. It don't do much good
to vote. I am too old to vote. I never voted in Arkansas. I voted some
in Mississippi but not regular.
"Times is hard. So many white women do their own cooking and washing
till it don't leave no work fer the colored folks. The lumber work is
gone fer good.
"The present generation is going back'ards. For awhile it looked like
they was rising--I'm speaking morally. They going back down in a hurry.
Drinking and doing all kinds of devilment. The race is going back'ard
now. Seems like everybody could see that when whiskey come back in.
"I got high blood pressure. I do a little work. I watch on Sunday at the
mills. I don't get no help from the Gover'ment."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Benjamin Diggs
420 N. Cypress, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 79
"I was born in 1859 in North Carolina. Oh, sure, I remember when the
Yankees come through. They said they done right smart of damage. I
remember goin' by a place where they had burned it down. They didn't do
nothin' to my white folks 'cept took the stock.
"The Lyles was my white folks. They called her Polly Lyles. Oh, they was
good to us. My mother and her sister and another colored woman and we
children all belonged to one set of people--Miss Polly Lyles; and my
father belonged to the Diggs.
"After freedom we moved off but they was good to us just the same, and
we was glad to pay 'em a visit and they was glad to have us.
"I've heard my mother say she'd ignore the idea of a cold biscuit but my
father said he was glad to get one. He said he didn't get 'em but once a
week.
"Oh, indeed there was a lot of difference in the way the colored folks
was treated. Some of 'em was very good, just like they is now.
"Well, all those old people is dead and gone now 'cause they was old
then.
"I come here to Arkansas in '88. That was when they was emigratin' the
folks. I was grown and married then. I was twenty-six when I married in
'85.
"I went to school a little. I can sorta scribble a little and read a
little, but my eyes is failin' now. I started wearin' glasses 'fore I
really needed 'em. I got to projectin' with my mother's glasses Looked
like they read so good.
"Farmin' is all I know how to do. Never done anything else. I owned some
land and farmed for myself.
"Sure, I used to vote--Republican. I never had any trouble. I always
tried to conduct my life to avoid trouble. I believe in that policy.
"I joined the church when I was very young, very young. I go by the
Golden Rule and by the Bible.
"I first lived in Pope County.
"I learned since I come here to Pine Bluff there's enough churches here
to save the world, but there's some mean people here."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Katie Dillon
307 Hazel Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 82
[Dec 31 1937]
"I hope I was here in slavery days--don't I look like it? I was a good
big girl after surrender.
"I was born in Rodney, Mississippi in 1855.
"I had a good old master--Doctor Williams. Didn't have no mistress. He
never married till after surrender.
"We lived right in town--right on the Mississippi River where the gun
boats went by. They shelled the town one day. Remember it just as well
as if 'twas now. I hope it was exciting. Everybody moved out. Some run
and left their stores. They run to Alcorn University, five miles from
there. Some of em come back next day and some never come back till after
surrender.
"The old Doctor bought my mother when she was twelve years old. When she
got big enough she was the cook. Made a fine one too. I worked around
the house and toted in wood and water.
"After surrender, Dr. Williams wanted my mother to give me and my
brother to him and he would give her a home, but she wouldn't. I wish
she had but you know I wasn't old enough to know what was best. She
hired out and took us with her. I hired out too. I reckon I was paid but
I never did see it. I reckon my mother collected it. I know she clothed
me. I had better clothes than I got now. We stayed there till we come to
Arkansas. I was married then. I married when I was seventeen. I was fast
wasn't I? I got a good husband. Didn't have to work, only do my own
work. Just clean up the house and garden and tend to the chickens. My
husband was a picture man. Yes'm, I've lived in town all my life--born
and raised up in town.
"After surrender I went to the first free school ever was in Rodney,
Mississippi. I went about two sessions. I ought to've learned more'n I
did but I didn't see how it would benefit me.
"In slavery days we used to go right to the table and eat after the
white folks was through. We didn't eat out of no pots and pans. Whatever
was on the table you et it until you got enough.
"When I was comin' up and they was goin' to have a private ball, they
sent out invitations and I went, but when they had that kind where
everybody could go I wouldn't a gone to one of them for nothin'.
"The way things is goin' now I don't think the end can be very far off.
"I remember when peace was declared I saw the soldiers across the street
and they had their guns all stacked. I was lookin' and wonderin' what it
was. You know children didn't ask questions in them days. I heard some
of the older ones talkin' and I heard em say the war was over.
"I never had but two children and only one livin' now. Yes'm, I own my
home and my son helps me what he can. I'm thankful I got as much as I
have."
El Dorado District
FOLKLORE SUBJECTS [HW: Customs]
Name of Interviewer: Pernella Anderson
Subject: Customs--Slavery Days
[Nov 30 1936]
This information given by: Alice Dixon
Place of Residence: Rock Island quarters
Occupation: None
Age: 80 (approx)
[TR: Personal information moved from last page of interview.]
Well honey ah can't tell jes when ah wuz born. De white fokes have mah
age. Ah blong tuh de Newtons. As near as ah can get at mah age ahm bout
74 now but ah wuz big nough to member the soldiers comin aroun atter
surrender.
Mah mutha had ten chillun but ah can't member but two uv mah sisters and
one uv mah bruthes. We staid wid de Newtons till we wuz set free and I
nuss fuh de Newtons aftuh we wuz set free. De Newtons wuz awful good ter
me and dey wuz good tuh mah ma too. Ah slept up in de big house wid de
Newtons. Ah nevah went ter school. Ah didn' have a chance. Ah went ter
church jes sometimes. We didn have churches. We jes had meetin in our
house we lived in. We cooked on fire places. We cooked our bread in what
we called oven bout so high. We had chickens and eggs, peas, tatoes,
meat and bread but ah didn know there was no sich thing as cake an pie
till ah got to be an oman. Ah can't recollect jes how ole ah wuz in
slave time but ah shore can recollect dem Yankees riding dem hosses and
ah ask may ma what dey was doin and she said gatherin up cotton dey made
in slave time an ah kin recollect an oman a gin. Yo know we had steps
made of blocks saved from trees and she wuz a goin ovah em steps er
shoutin and singin "Ah am free, at last, ah am free at last, ah'm free
at last, thank Gawd a Mighty ah'm free at last." She wuz so glad ter be
free.
My ma in huh time would make cloth. She had a loom. Hit wuz a high thing
and th thread would go ovah th top and come down jes so in what we call
shickle. She'd have a bench so high. The loom was high as dis door and
my ma would set on the bench and her foots wuz on somethin like a
bicycle and when she put her foots on de pedal dat shickle would come
open and make a blum blum an that would make a yard of cloth, an she'd
mash the pedal agin and another yard of cloth. Jes so we'd make eight
and ten yards of cloth in one day. An when hit wuz made we would carry
hit to de white fokes. Dey would make us clo'es outn dat cloth. Ifn dey
wanted colored cloth dey would dye de thread. Dey had what we called a
loom dat would make, le' me see now, Card would card the cotton, and de
looms would make de thread and de shickle would make de cloth, as well
as ah can recollect we would make little roll uv cotton on de cards an
put it on de loom and make thread. De looms was jes so long. Ever time
the wheel would say o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o we had a spool uv thread. Ah
don' know whar dey got the spools, made em tho ah guess. Ah jes caint
tell you how hit wuz hits so much.
De Newton's nevah did whup me. She started to whup me tho one day. Ah
kin recollect bout de dogs. There wuz one dog whut wuz called Dinah. But
yo know dey had ten uv em. One day ole Uncle Henry Jones done somethin
and run off and climbed a tree and de Newton's miss him so dey called de
dogs and dey went on to de tree. Dat very tree wha he wuz and stopped.
Uncle Henry had been gone all dat mornin and dem dogs track him right
dere, to de spot and wouldn let him down till de Newtons come. An chile
dem Newtons whip de skin off Uncle Herny's [TR: Henry's] back. Dem dogs
would git yo.
Mrs. Newton nevah got outn de bed no time. Ah would lift her from one
bed to de utha to make de beds and when she got ready to get dressed ah
would bath her and dress huh all de times.
Ah'll tell yo nother funny joke bout Henry Johnson. He had ter clean up
mos uv de time. So Mrs. Newton's dress wuz hangin in de room up on de
wall and when he come out he said to ole Uncle Jerry, he said: "Jerry
guess whut ah done" and Jerry said: "Whut?" And Uncle Henry said: "Ah
put mah han undah ole Mistess dress." Uncle Jerry said: "Whut did she
say?" Uncle Henry say: "She didn' say nothin." So Uncle Jerry cided he'd
try hit. So he went draggin on in de house. Set down on de floor by ole
mistess. Ater while he run his han' up under huh dress and old marster
jumped up and jumped on Jerry and like to beat him ter death. Jerry went
out cryin and got out and called Henry. He said: "Henry ah though yo
said yo put yo hand undah ole Mistess's dress and she didn' say nothin."
Uncle Henry said: "Ah did and she didn' say nuthin." Jerry said: "Ah put
mah han' undah huh dress and ole marster like tuh beat me ter death."
Uncle Henry said: "Yo crazy thing huh dress wuz hangin up on de wall
when ah put mah han up undah hit."
We didn' eat eggs only on Sunday mornin. Me and mah sis et together in
de same plate. We didn know whut knives and forkes wuz den. We et wid
our fingahs.
Ah had a good ole pa too. He died a long time ago. Ah member one night
he started tuh whoop mah brudder and mah pa and mah brudder had hit. So
mah brudder runned off, an de marster called ole Dinah, Dinah wuz a dog
yo know but Dinah was a big dog ovah the other dogs yo know and dem dogs
went and got me brudder and dem Newtons sho did beat him. But twasnt
long befo mah pa taken sick and died aftuh dat. An when we wuz goin ter
bury mah pa lamme tell yo what happened: Two turtle doves flew roun the
wagon three times, den dey flew right on top uv mah pa's coffin box an
hollered three times; and yo know mah sistuh died bout three days aftuh
dat. Ah didn' bleave in signs till den. Ah know mah pa always bleaved in
signs cause ah know when hit would start lightnin and thunderin round
dat place of ourn mah pa would always make us stop. He say twas bad
luck. An ah know when evah a dove would holler at night he'd tell us jes
tuh tie a knot in th' south cornuh uv de sheet and he would hush. An we
would do hit an he would hush. Yo kno hits bad luck fuh dem tuh holler
roun yo place.
Oh we use ter have lots o sheep, at least ole mistess did. We made all
of our wool clothes from dem sheeps wool and let me tell yo somethin
else, ah think ah got some sheep wool in mah trunk now ah had hit fifty
years. Hits good fer sores if yo has er cut on yo han' or feet or if
blood poison set up jes take a little piece of dat wool an put a piece
of fire on hit and [HW: put] some [HW: on] the sore parts and chile,
honey, hit will git well right now.
Chile ah had use ter ruther go ter dances than ter eat. Ah'd go ter
dances an git early dare and heah dem fiddles. Uh, my! ah jus couldn
make mah foots act right. We use ter dance sixteen sets. We'd be er
dancing and hit would sound so good. Someone would say swing de one yo
love bes but ah wouldn swing de one ah love best cause ah didn want
anyone tah know him.
On Sunday mornin dats when we play. Ole marster would put a rope cross
fer us ter jump and we'd line up. The rope wuz bout five feet high and
chile if we didn' jump it we'd catch hit. O-o-o-o-oooo. We had ter run.
He line up two at a time an he say one fuh de money, two fuh de show,
three tuh make ready and fo' tuh go. An yo talk bout runnin. We had ter
run. He would make us box and de one dat git whooped is de one dat would
haft ter box till he got whooped and we had ter whoop three times befo'
stoppin. Oh chile, ah had a time when ah miz a chile.
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Luke D. Dixon
DeValls Bluff, Ark.
Age: 81
"My father's owner was Jim Dixon in Elmo County, Virginia. That is where
I was born. I am 81 years old. Jim Dixon had several boys--Baldwin and
Joe. Joe took some of the slaves, his pa give him, and went to New
Mexico to shun the war. Uncle and pa went in the war as waiters. They
went in at the ending up. We lived on the big road that run to the
Atlantic Ocean. Not far from Richmond. Ma lived three or four miles from
Pa. She lived across big creek--now they call it Farrohs Run. Ma belong
to Harper Williams. Pa's folks was very good but Ma's folks was
unpleasant.
"Ma lived to be 103 years old. Pa died in 1905 and was 105 years old. I
used to set on Grandma's lap and she told me about how they used to
catch people in Africa. They herded them up like cattle and put them in
stalls and brought them on the ship and sold them. She said some they
captured they left bound till they come back and sometimes they never
went back to get them. They died. They had room in the stalls on the
boat to set down or lie down. They put several together. Put the men to
themselves and the women to themselves. When they sold Grandma and
Grandpa at a fishing dock called New Port, Va., they had their feet
bound down and their hands bound crossed, up on a platform. They sold
Grandma's daughter to somebody in Texas. She cried and begged to let
them be together. They didn't pay no 'tenshion to her. She couldn't talk
but she made them know she didn't want to be parted. Six years after
slavery they got together. When a boat was to come in people come and
wait to buy slaves. They had several days of selling. I never seen this
but that is the way it was told to me.
"The white folks had an iron clip that fastened the thumbs together and
they would swing the man or woman up in a tree and whoop them. I seen
that done in Virginia across from where I lived. I don't know what the
folks had done. They pulled the man up with block and tackle.
"Another thing I seen done was put three or four chinquapin switches
together green, twist them and dry them. They would cry like a leather
whip. They whooped the slaves with them.
"Grandpa was named Sam Abraham and Phillis Abraham was his mate. They
was sold twice. Once she was sold away from her husband to a speculator.
Well, it was hard on the Africans to be treated like cattle. I never
heard of the Nat Turner rebellion. I have heard of slaves buying their
own freedom. I don't know how it was done. I have heard of folks being
helped to run off. Grandma on mother's side had a brother run off from
Dalton, Mississippi to the North. After the war he come to Virginia.
"When freedom was declared we left and went to Wilmington and Wilson,
North Carolina. Dixon never told us we was free but at the end of the
year he gave my father a gray mule he had ploughed for a long time and
part of the crop. My mother jes picked us up and left her folks now. She
was cooking then I recollect. Folks jes went wild when they got turned
loose.
"My parents was first married under a twenty-five cents license law in
Virginia. After freedom they was remarried under a new law and the
license cost more but I forgot how much. They had fourteen children to
my knowing. After the war you could register under any name you give
yourself. My father went by the name of Right Dixon and mother Jilly
Dixon.
"The Ku Klux was bad. They was a band of land owners what took the law
in hand. I was a boy. I scared to be caught out. They took the place of
pattyrollers before freedom.
"I never went to public school but two days in my life. I went to night
school and paid Mr. J.C. Price and Mr. S.H. Vick to teach me. My father
got his leg shot off and I had to work. It kept me out of meanness. Work
and that woman has kept me right. I come to Arkansas, brought my wife
and one child, April 5, 1889. We come from Wilson, North Carolina. Her
people come from North Carolina and Moultrie, Georgia.
"I do vote. I sell eggs or a little something and keep my taxes paid up.
It look like I'm the kind of folks the government would help--them that
works and tries hard to have something--but seems like they don't get no
help. They wouldn't help me if I was bout to starve. I vote a Republican
ticket."
NOTE: On the wall in the dining room, used as a sitting room, was a
framed picture of Booker T. Washington and Teddy Roosevelt sitting at a
round-shaped hotel dining table ready to be served. Underneath the
picture in large print was "Equality." I didn't appear to ever see the
picture.
This negro is well-fixed for living at home. He is large and very black,
but his wife is a light mulatto with curly, nearly-straightened hair.
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Martha Ann Dixon (mulatto)
DeValls Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 81
"I am eighty-one years old. I was born close to Saratoga, North
Carolina. My mother died before I can recollect and my grandmother
raised me. They said my father was a white man. They said Jim Beckton. I
don't recollect him. My mother was named Mariah Tyson.
"I recollect how things was. My grandmother was Miss Nancy Tyson's cook.
She had one son named Mr. Seth Tyson. He run her farm. They et in the
dining room, we et in the kitchen. Clothes and something to eat was
scarce. I worked at whatever I was told to do. Grandma told me things to
do and Miss Nancy told me what to do. I went to the field when I was
pretty little. Once my uncle left the mule standing out in the field and
went off to do something else. It come up a hard shower. I crawled under
the mule. If I had been still it would been all right but my hair stood
up and tickled the mule's stomach. The mule jumped and the plough hit me
in my hip here at the side. It is a wonder I didn't get killed.
"After the Civil War was times like now. Money scarce and prices high,
and you had to start all over new. Pigs was hard to start, mules and
horses was mighty scarce. Seed was scarce. Everything had to be started
from the stump. Something to eat was mighty plain and scarce and one or
two dresses a year had to do. Folks didn't study about going so much.
"I had to rake up leaves and fetch em to the barn to make beds for the
little pigs in cold weather. The rake was made out of wood. It had
hickory wood teeth and about a foot long. It was heavy. I put my leaves
in a basket bout so high [three or four feet high]. I couldn't tote
it--I drug it. I had to get leaves in to do a long time and wait till
the snow got off before I could get more. It seem like it snowed a lot.
The pigs rooted the leaves all about in day and back up in the corners
at night. It was ditched all around. It didn't get very muddy. Rattle
snakes was bad in the mountains. I used to tote water--one bucketful on
my head and one bucketful in each hand. We used wooden buckets. It was
lot of fun to hunt guinea nests and turkey nests. When other little
children come visiting that is what we would do. We didn't set around
and listen at the grown folks. We toted up rocks and then they made rock
rows [terraces] and rock fences about the yard and garden. They looked
so pretty. Some of them would be white, some gray, sometimes it would be
mixed. They walled wells with rocks too. All we done or knowed was work.
When we got tired there was places to set and rest. The men made plough
stocks and hoe handles and worked at the blacksmith shop in snowy
weather. I used to pick up literd [HW: lightwood] knots and pile them in
piles along the road so they could take them to the house to burn. They
made a good light and kindling wood.
"They didn't whoop Grandma but she whooped me a plenty.
"After the war some white folks would tell Grandma one thing and some
others tell her something else. She kept me and cooked right on. I
didn't know what freedom was. Seemed like most of them I knowed didn't
know what to do. Most of the slaves left the white folks where I was
raised. It took a long time to ever get fixed. Some of them died, some
went to the cities, some up North, some come to new country. I married
and come to Fredonia, Arkansas in 1889. I had been married since I was a
young girl. But as I was saying the slaves was still hunting a better
place and more freedom. The young folks is still hunting a better place
and more freedom. Grandma learnt me to set down and be content. We have
done better out here than we could done in North Carolina but I don't
believe in so much rambling.
"We come on the passenger train and paid our own way to Arkansas. It was
a wild and sickly country and has changed. Not like living in the same
country. I try to live like the white folks and Grandma raised me. I do
like they done. I think is the reason we have saved and have good a
living as we got. We do on as little as we can and save a little for the
rainy day."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Railroad Dockery
1103 Short 13th, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 81
"Railroad Dockery, that's my name. I belonged to John Dockery and we
lived at Lamertine, Arkansas where I was born. My mother's name was
Martha and I am one of quadruplets, three girls and one boy, that's me.
Red River, Ouachita, Mississippi and Railroad were our names. (Mrs. Mary
Browning, who is now ninety-eight years of age, told me that her father,
John Dockery, was the president of the Mississippi, Red River, Ouachita
Railroad, the first one to be surveyed in Arkansas, and that when the
directors heard of the quadruplets' birth, they wanted to name them
after the railroad, which was done--ed.)
"Yes ma'm, Red River and Ouachita died when they were tots and
Mississippi and Railroad were raised. Now that's what my mother said.
Mississippi died five or six years ago and I'm the onliest one left.
"I remember mighty little about the war. I never thought anything about
the war. All I did then was a crowd of us little chaps would go to the
woods and tote in the wood every day for the cook woman. That's what I
followed. Never did nothing else but play till after the war.
"After surrender I went with my father and mother to work for General
Tom Dockery. He was John Dockery's brother. I was big enough to plow
then. I followed the plow all the time. My father and mother were paid
for their work. We stayed there about five years and then moved to
Falcon, Arkansas. Father died there.
"In the time of the war I heard the folks talkin' about freedom, and I
heard my father talk about the Ku Klux but that was all I knowed, just
what he said about it.
"I remember the presidents and I voted for some of them but oh Lord, I
haven't voted in several years.
"I got along after freedom just as well as I ever did. I never had no
trouble--never been in no trouble.
"About the world now--it looks like to me these days things are pretty
tight. I could hardly tell you what I think of the younger generation. I
think one thing--if the old heads would die all at once they would be
out, because it's all you can do to keep em straight now.
"I went to school only three months in my life. I learned to read and
write very well. I don't need glasses and I read principally the Bible.
To my mind it is the best book in the world. Biggest part of the
preachers now won't preach unless they are paid three-fourths more than
they are worth.
"The biggest part of my work was farming. I never did delight in
cooking. Now I can do any kind of housework, but don't put me to
cooking.
"I just can't sing to do no good. Never could sing. Seems like when I
try to sing something gets tangled in my throat.
"Oh Lord, I remember one old song they used to sing
'A charge to keep I have
A God to glorify.'
"I don't remember anything else but now if Mississippi was here, she
could tell you lots of things."
Interviewer: Irene Robertson
Subject: Ex-slave
Information given by: Callie Donalson, Biscoe, Arkansas