Violent death followed Lula Jackson's family like an implacable
avenger. Her father's mother was struck and killed by lightning. Her
mother's first husband was thrown to his death in a wrestling match.
Her own husband was dragged and kicked to death by a mule. Her
brother-in-law, Jerry Jackson, was killed by a horse. But Sister
Jackson is bright and cheery and full of faith in God and man, and
utterly without bitterness.
Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy
Person interviewed: Mary Jackson,
Russellville, Arkansas
Age: 75?
"My name is Mary Jackson, and I was born in Miller Grove, Hunt County,
Texas during the War. No sir, I do not know the year. Our master's
name was Dixon, and he was a wealthy plantation owner, had lots of
property in Hunt County.
"The days after the War--called the Reconstruction days, I
believe--were sure exciting, and I can 'mind' a lot of things the
people did, one of them a big barbecue celebration commemoratin' the
return of peace. They had speeches, and music by the band--and there
were a lot of soldiers carrying guns and wearing some kind of big
breastplates. The white children tried to scare us by telling us the
soldiers were coming to kill us little colored children. The band
played 'Dixie' and other familiar tunes that the people played and
sang in those days.
"Yes sir, I remember the Klu Klux Klan. They sure kept us frightened
and we would always run and hide when we heard they were comin'. I
don't know of any special harm they done but we were afraid of em.
"I have been a member of the A. M. E. Church for forty years, and my
children belong to the same church.
"No sir, I don't know if the government ever promised our folks
anything--money, or land, or anything else.
"Don't ask me anything about this 'new generation' business. They're
simply too much for me; I cannot understand em at all. Don't know
whether they are coming or going. In our day the parents were not near
so lenient as they are today. I think much of the waywardness of the
youth today should be blamed on the parents for being too slack in
their training."
NOTE: Mrs. Jackson and her son live in a lovely cottage, and her taste
in dress and general deportment are a credit to the race.
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Taylor Jackson,
Edmondson, Arkansas
Age: 88?
[Date Stamp: MAY 11 1938]
"I was born two miles from Baltimore, Maryland. I was a good size boy.
My father carried me to see the war flag go up. There was an awful
crowd, one thousand people, there. I had two masters in this country
besides in Virginia. When war was declared there was ten boats of
niggers loaded at Washington and shipped to New Orleans. We stayed in
the 'Nigger Traders Yard' there about three months. But we was not to
be sold. Master Cupps [Culps?] owned father, mother and all of us. If
they gained the victory he was to take us back to Virginia. I never
knowed my grandparents. The yard had a tall brick wall around it. We
had a bunk room, good cotton pads to sleep on and blankets. On one
side they had a wall fixed to go up on from the inside and twelve
platforms. You could see them being sold on the inside and the crowd
on the outside. When they auctioned them off they would come, pick out
what they wanted to sell next and fill them blocks again. They sold
niggers all day long. They come in another drove they had, had men out
buying over the country. They come in thick wood doors with iron nails
bradded through, fastened on big hinges, fastened it with chains and
iron bars. The house was a big red brick house. We didn't get none too
much to eat at that place. I reckon one side was three hundred yard
long of the wall and the house was that long. Some of them in there
cut their hands off with a knife or ax. Well, they couldn't sell
them. Nobody would buy them. I don't know what they ever done with
them. Plenty of them would cut their hand off if they could get
something to cut with to keep from being sold.
"We stayed in that place till Wyley Lions [Lyons?] come and got us in
wagons. He kept us for Master Cupps. Mother was a house girl in
Virginia. She was one more good cook. I started hoeing and picking
cotton in Virginia for master. When I was fourteen years old I done
the same in Mississippi with Wiley Lyons in Mississippi close to
Canton. In Canton, Mississippi Wiley Lyons had the biggest finest
brick house in that country. He had two farms. In Bolivar County was
the biggest. I could hear big shooting from Canton fifteen miles away.
He wasn't mean and he didn't allow the overseers to be mean.
"Hilliard Christmas [a neighbor] was mean to his folks. My father
hired his own time. He raised several ten acre gardens and
watermelons. He paid Mr. Cupp in Virginia. He come to see our folks
how they was getting along.
"A Negro on a joining farm run off. They hunted him with the dogs and
they found him at a log. Heap his legs froze, so the white doctor had
to cut them off. He was on Solomon's farms. After that he got to be a
cooper. He made barrels and baskets--things he could do sittin' in his
chair. They picked him up and made stumps for him. Some folks was
mean.
"My mother was Rachel and my father was Andrew Jackson. I had three
brothers fought in the War. I was too young. They talked of taking me
in a drummer boy the year it ceased. My nephew give me this uniform.
It is warm and it is good. My breeches needs some repairs reason I
ain't got them on. [He has worn a blue uniform for years and
years--ed.]
"There was nine of us children. I got one girl very low now. She's in
Memphis. I been in Arkansas 45 years. I come here jes' drifting
looking out a good location. I never had no dealings with the Ku Klux.
I been farming all my life. Yes, I did like it. I never owned a home
nor no land. I never voted in my life. I had nine children of my own
but only my girl living now.
"Nine or ten years ago I could work every minute. Times was good!
good! Could get plenty work--wood to cut and ditching. It is not that
way now. I can't do a day's work now. I'm failing fast. I feel it.
"Young folks can make a living if they work and try. Some works too
hard and some don't hardly work. Work is scarcer than it ever was to
my knowledge. Times changed and changed the young folks. Mother died
two or three years after the War. My father died first year we come to
Mississippi.
[We went by and took the old Negro to West Memphis. From there he
could take a jitney to Memphis to see his daughter--ed.]
"I ain't never been 'rested. I ain't been to jail. Nearly well be as
so confined with the mud. [We assured him it was nicer to ride in the
car than be in jail--ed.]
"I couldn't tell how many I ever seen sold. I seen some sold in
Virginia, I reckon, or Maryland--one off the boats. They kept them
tied. They was so scared they might do anything, jump in the big
waters. They couldn't talk but to some and he would tell white folks
what he said. [They used an interpreter.] Some couldn't understand one
another if they come from far apart in the foreign country. Slavery
wasn't never bad on me. I never was sold off from my folks and I had
warmer, better clothes 'an I have now. I had plenty to eat, more'an I
has now generally. I had better in slavery than I have now. That is
the truth. I'm telling the truth, I did. Some didn't. One neighbor got
mad and give each hand one ear of corn nine or ten o'clock. They take
it to the cook house and get it made up in hominy. Some would be so
hungry they would parch the corn rather 'an wait. He'd give 'em meal
to make a big kettle of mush. When he was good he done better. Give
'em more for supper.
"Freedom--soldiers come by two miles long look like. We followed them.
There was a crowd following. Wiley Lyons had no children; he adopted a
boy and a girl. Me and the boy was growing up together. Me and the
white boy (fifteen or sixteen years old, I reckon we was) followed
them. They said that was Grant's army. I don't know. 'That made us
free' they told us. The white boy was free, he just went to see what
was happening. We sure did see! We went by Canton to Vicksburg when
fighting quit. Folks rejoiced, and then went back wild. Smart ones
soon got work. Some got furnished a little provisions to help keep
them from starving. Mr. Wiley Lyons come got us after five months. We
hung around my brother that had been in the War. I don't know if he
was a soldier or a waiter. We worked around Master Lyons' house at
Canton till he died. I started farming again with him.
"I get $8 a month pension and high as things is that is a powerful
blessing but it ain't enough to feed me good. It cost more to go after
the commodities up at Marion than they come to [amount to in value]."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Virginia Jackson,
Helena, Arkansas
Age: 74
[Date Stamp: MAY 31 1938]
"Mother said I was born the same year peace was declared. I was born
before the Civil War close, I reckon. I was born in Tunica,
Mississippi. Mother belong to Mistress Cornelia and Master John Hood.
He come from Alabama in wagons and brought mother and whole lot of
'em, she said, to Tunica, Mississippi. My mother and father never
sold. They told me that. She said she was with the master and he give
her to father. He ask her did she want him and ask him if he want her.
They lived on joint places. They slept together on Wednesday and
Saturday nights. He stayed at Hood's place on Sunday. They was owned
by different masters. They didn't never say 'bout stepping over no
broom. He was a Prince. When he died she married a man named Russell.
I never heard her say what his name was. My father was Mathew Prince.
They was both field hands. I never knowed my father. I called my
stepfather popper. I always did say mother.
"Mother said her master didn't tell them it was freedom. Other folks
got told in August. They passed it 'round secretly. Some Yankees come
asked if they was getting paid for picking cotton in September. They
told their master. They told the Yankees 'yes' 'cause they was afraid
they would be run off and no place to go. They said Master Hood paid
them well for their work at cotton selling time. He never promised
them nothing. She said he never told one of them to leave or to stay.
He let 'em be. I reckon they got fed. I wore cotton sack dresses. It
wasn't bagging. It was heavy stiff cloth.
"Mother and her second husband come to Forrest City. They hoped they
could do better. I come too. I worked in the field all my whole life
'cepting six years I worked in a laundry. I washed and ironed. I am a
fine ironer. If I was younger I could get all the mens' shirts I could
do now. I do a few but I got neuralgia in my arms and shoulders.
"I don't believe in talking 'bout my race. They always been lazy folks
and smart folks, and they still is. The present times is good for me.
I'm so thankful. I get ten dollars and some help, not much. I don't go
after it. I let some that don't get much as I get have it. I told 'em
to do that way."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: William Jackson
Route 6, Box 81, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 84
"Me? Well, I was born July 12, 1853. Now you can figure that up.
"I was sold four times in slavery times. I was sold through the nigger
traders and you know they didn't keep you long.
"I was born in Tennessee, raised in Mississippi, and been here in
Arkansas up and down the Arkansas River ever since I was fifteen.
"A fellow bought me in Tennessee and sold me to a fellow named Abe
Collins in Mississippi. He sold me to Dr. Maloney and then Winn and
Trimble in Hempstead County bought me. They run a tanyard.
"I went to school one day in my life. My third master's children
learned me my ABC's in slavery times. I'm not educated but I can read.
Read the Bible and something like that.
"The Ku Klux run me one night. They come to the door and I went out
the window. They went to my master's tanyard in broad open day and
took leather. Oh, I been all through the roughness. But the Lord has
blessed me ever since I been in this world. I can see good and hear
good and get about.
"I come here to Arkansas with some refugees, and I been up and down
the river ever since.
"In slavery times I had plenty to eat, such as 'twas. Had biscuits on
Sunday made out of shorts.
"I lived with one man, Dr. Maloney, who was pretty cruel. I run away
from him once, but he caught me fore night. Put me in a little house
on bread and water for three or four days and then he sold me. Said he
wouldn't have a nigger that would run away. Otherwise I been treated
pretty well.
"I come to Pine Bluff in '82. Last place I farmed was at what they
call the Nichol place.
"I used to vote Republican--wouldn't let us vote nothin' else. In this
country they won't let niggers vote in the primary 'cause they can
vote in the presidential election. I held one office--justice of the
peace.
"If the younger generation don't change, the Lord goin' to put curses
on em. That's just what's goin' to come of em. More you do for em the
worse they is. Don't think about the future--just today."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Lawson Jamar,
Edmondson, Arkansas
Age: 66
[Date Stamp: MAY 11 1938]
"Papa had twelve children and when he died he lef' two and now I am
all the big family left.
"Mama was born in Huntsville, Alabama. I was born there too. She was
Liza, b'long to Tom and Unis Martin. Papa b'long to Mistress Sarah and
Jack Jamar. They had to work hard. They had to do good work. They had
to not slight their work. Papa's main job was to carry water to the
hands. He said it kept him on the go. They had more than one water
boy. They had to go to the wash hole before they went to bed and wash
clean. The men had a place and the women had their place. They didn't
have to get in if it was cold but they had to wash off.
"They hauled a wagon load of axes or hoes and lef' 'em in the field so
they could get 'em. Then they would haul plows, hoes or axes to the
shop to be fixed up. They had two or three sets. They worked from
early till late. They had a cook house. They cooked at their own
houses when the work wasn't pushing. When they got behind they would
work in the moonlight. If they got through they all went and help some
neighbor two or three nights and have a big supper sometimes. They
done that on Saturday nights, go home and sleep all day Sunday.
"If they didn't have time to wash and clean the houses and the beds
some older women would do that and tend to the babies. They had a hard
time during the War. It was hard after the War. Papa brought me to
this country to farm. He farmed till he started sawmilling for
Chappman Dewy at Marked Tree. Then he swept out and was in the office
to help about. He never owned nothing. He come and I farmed. He helped
a little. He was so old. He talked more about the War and slavery. I
always have farmed. Farmed all my life.
"I don't farm now. I got asthma and cripple with rheumatism. What my
wife and children can't do ain't done now. [Three children.] I don't
get no help but I applied for it.
"Present times is all right where a man can work. The present
generation rather do on heap less and do less work. They ain't got
manners and raisin' like I had. They don't know how to be polite. We
tries to learn 'em [their children] how to do."
NOTE: The woman was black and so was the cripple Negro man; their
house was clean, floors, bed, tables, chairs. Very good warm house.
They couldn't remember the old tales the father told to tell them to
me.
Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy
Person interviewed: Nellie James,
Russellville, Arkansas
Age: 72
"Nellie James is my name. Yes, Mr. D. B. James was my husband, and he
remembered you very kindly. They call me 'Aunt Nellie.' I was born in
Starkville, Ouachita County, Mississippi the twenty-ninth of March, in
1866, just a year after the War closed. My parents were both owned by
a plantation farmer in Ouachita County, Mississippi, but we came to
Arkansas a good many years ago.
"My husband was principal of the colored school here at Russellville
for thirty-five years, and people, both white and black, thought a
great deal of him. We raised a family of six children, five boys and a
girl, and they now live in different states, some of them in
California. One of my sons is a doctor in Chicago and is doing well.
They were all well educated. Mr. James saw to that of course.
"So far as I remember from what my parents said, the master was
reasonably kind to all his slaves, and my husband said the same thing
about his own master although he was quite young at the time they were
freed. (Yes sir, you see he was born in slavery.)
"I was too young to remember much about the Ku Klux Klan, but I
remember we used to be afraid of them and we children would run and
hide when we heard they were coming.
"No sir, I have never voted, because we always had to pay a dollar for
the privilege--and I never seemed to have the dollar (laughingly) to
spare at election time. Mr. James voted the Republican ticket
regularly though.
"All our family were Missionary Baptists. I united with the Baptist
church when I [HW: was] thirteen years old.
"I think the young people of both races are growing wilder and wilder.
The parents today are too slack in raising them--too lenient. I don't
know where they are headed, what they mean, what they want to do, or
what to expect of them. And I'm too busy and have too hard a time
trying to make ends meet to keep up with their carryings-on."
NOTE: Mrs. Nellie James, widow of Prof. D. B. James, one of the most
successful Negro teachers who ever served in Russellville, is a quiet,
refined woman, a good housekeeper, and has reared a large and
successful family. She speaks with good, clear diction, and has none
of the brogue that is characteristic of the colored race of the
South.
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Robert James
4325 W. Eighth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 66, or older
Occupation: Cook
"I was born in Lexington, Mississippi, in the year 1872. My mother's
name was Florida Hawkins. Florida James was her slavery name. David
Jones was her old master. That was in Mississippi--the good old
country! People hate it because they don't like the name but it was a
mighty good country when I was there. The white people there were
better to the colored people when I was there than they are here. But
there is a whole lots of places that is worse than Arkansas.
"I have been here forty-eight years and I haven't had any trouble with
nobody, and I have owned three homes in my time. My nephew and my
brother happened to meet up with each other in France. They thought
about me and wrote and told me about it. And I writ to my sister in
Chicago following up their information and got in touch with my
people. Didn't find them out till the great war started. Had to go to
Europe to find my relatives. My sister's people and mine too were born
in Illinois, but my mother and two sisters and another brother were
born in Mississippi. Their kin born in Illinois were half-brothers and
so on.