"I think times is tight now. Tighter than I ever knowed 'em to be
before. Quite a change in this world now. There is not enough work now
for the people and from what I can see, electricity has knocked the
laboring man out. It has cut the mules and the men out.
"My opinion of these young people is that they got all the education
in the world and no business qualifications. They are too fast for any
use."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: John Johnson
R.F.D., Clarendon, Arkansas
Age: 73
"I was born sixteen miles on the other side of Jackson, Tennessee. The
old mistress was Miss Sally, and old master was Mr. Steve Johnson,
same name as mine. My papa's name was Louis Johnson but my mama
belonged to the Conleys and befo' she married papa her name was Martha
Conley. My folks fur as I knowed was field hands. They stayed on at
Johnsons and worked a long time after freedom. I was born just befo'
freedom. From what I heard all of my folks talkin' the Ku Klux 'fected
the colored folks right smart, more than the war. Seemed 'bout like
two wars and both of 'em tried their best to draw in the black race.
The black race wanted peace all the time. It was Abraham Lincoln whut
wanted to free the black race. He was the President. The first war was
'bout freedom and the war right after it was equalization. The Ku Klux
muster won it cause they didn't want the colored folks have as much as
they have. I heard my folks say they knowed some of the Ku Klux. They
would get killed sometimes and then you hear 'bout it. They would be
nice as pie in day time and then dress up at night and be mean as they
could be. They wanted the colored folks think they was hants and
monsters from the bad place. All the Yankees whut wanted to stay after
they quit fighting, they run 'em out wid hounds at night. The Ku Klux
was awful mean I heard 'em say. Mr. Steve Johnson looked after all his
hands. All that stayed on to work for him. He told 'em long as they
stayed home at night and behave 'em selves they needn't be scared.
They wanter go out at night they had to have him write 'em a pass.
Jess like slavery an' they were free.
"The master didn't give 'em nuthin'. He let 'em live in his
houses--log houses, and he had 'em fed from the store stead of the
smoke house. He give 'em a little money in the fall to pay 'em. 'Bout
all the difference they didn't get beat up. If they didn't work he
would make 'em leave his place.
"That period--after the Civil War, it sure was hard. It was a
_de_'pression I'll tell you. I never seed a dollar till I was 'bout
grown. They called 'em 'wagon wheels.' They was mighty scarce. Great
big heavy pieces of silver. I ain't seed one fer years. But they used
to be some money.
"Lady, whut you wanter know was fo my days, fo I was born. My folks
could answered all dem questions. There was 4 girls and 6 boys in my
family.
"Course I did vote. I used to have a heap a fun on election day. They
give you a drink. It was plentiful I tell you. I never did drink much.
I voted Republican ticket. I know it would sho be too bad if the white
folks didn't hunt good canidates. The colored race got too fur behind
to be able to run our govmint. Course I mean education. When they git
educated they ain't studyin' nuthin' but spendin' all they make and
havin' a spreein' time. Lady, that is yo job. The young generation
ain't carin' 'bout no govinment.
"The present conditions--that's whut I been tellin' you 'bout. It is
hard to get work heap of the time. When the white man got money he
sure give the colored man and woman work to do. The white man whut
live 'mong us is our best friend. He stand by our color the best. It
is a heap my age, I reckon, I can't keep in work. Young folks can pick
up work nearly all time.
"I started to pay fer my home when I worked at the mill. I used to
work at a shoe and shettle mill. I got holt of a little cash. I still
tryin' to pay fer my home. I will make 'bout two bales cotton this
year. Yes maam they is my own. I got a hog. I got a garden. I ain't
got no cow.
"No maam I don't get no 'sistance from the govmint. No commodities--no
nuthin'. I signed up but they ain't give me nuthin'. I think I am due
it. I am gettin' so no account I needs it. Lady, I never do waste no
money. I went to the show ground and I seed 'em buyin' goobers and
popcorn. I seed a whole drove of colored folks pushin' and scrouging
in there so feared they wouldn't get the best seat an' miss somepin.
Heap of poor white people scrouging in there too all together. They
need their money to live on fo cold weather come. Ain't I tellin' you
right? I sho never moved outer my tracks. I never been to a show in my
life. Them folks come in here wid music and big tent every year. I
never been to a show in my life. That what they come here fur, to get
the cotton pickin' money. Lady, they get a pile of money fore they
leave. Course folks needs it now.
"When I had my mules and rented I made most and next to that when I
farmed for a fourth. When I was young I made plenty. I know how cotton
an' corn is made now but I ain't able to do much work, much hard work.
The Bible say twice a child and once a man. My manhood is gone fur as
work concerned.
"I like mighty well if you govmint folks could give me a little
'sistance. I need it pretty bad at times and can't get a bit."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Letha Johnson
2203 W. Twelfth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 77
"I heered the people say I was born in time of slavery. I was born
durin' of the War.
"And when we went back home they said we had been freed four years.
"My father's last owner was named Crawford. He was a awful large man.
That was in Monroe County, Mississippi.
"I know they was good to us 'cause we stayed right there after freedom
till my father died in 1889. And mama stayed a year or two, then she
come to Arkansas.
"After my husband died in 1919, I went to Memphis. Then this girl I
raised--her mother willed her to me--I come here to Arkansas to live
with her after I got down with the rheumatism so I couldn't wash and
iron.
"In my husband's lifetime I didn't do nothin' but farm. And after I
went to Memphis I cooked. Then I worked for a Italian lady, but she
did her own cookin'. And oh, I thought she could make the best
spaghetti.
"I used to spin and make soap. My last husband and I was married
fifteen years and eight months and we never did buy a bar of soap. I
used to be a good soap maker. And knit all my own socks and stockin's.
"I used to go to a school-teacher named Thomas Jordan. I remember he
used to have us sing a song
'I am a happy bluebird
Sober as you see;
Pure cold water
Is the drink for me.
I'll take a drink here
And take a drink there,
Make the woods ring
With my temperance prayer.'
We'd all sing it; that was our school song. I believe that's the
onliest one I can remember.
"'Bout this younger generation--well, I tell you, it's hard for me to
say. It just puts me to a wonder. They gone a way back there. Seem
like they don't have any 'gard for anything.
"I heard 'em 'fore I left Mississippi singin'
'Everybody's doin' it, doin' it.'
"'Co'se when I was young they was a few that was wild, but seem like
now they is all wild. But I feels sorry for 'em."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Lewis Johnson
713 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 87
"I'll be eighty-seven the eighteenth of this month if I live.
"They's a heap of things the human family calls luck. I count myself
lucky to be livin' as old as I is.
"Some says it is a good deed I've done but I says it's the power of
God.
"I never had but two spells of sickness when I was spectin' to die.
Once was in Mississippi. I had a congestis chill. I lay speechless
twenty-four hours and when I come to myself they had five doctors in
the house with me.
"But my time hadn't come and I'm yet livin' by the help of the good
Master.
"I stole off when I was eighteen and got my first marriage license.
They was a white fellow was a justice of the peace and he took
advantage of my father and he stood for me 'cause he wanted me to work
on his place. In them days they'd do most anything to gain labor.
"When they was emigratin' 'em from Georgia to these countries, they
told 'em they was hogs runnin' around already barbecued with a knife
and fork in their back. Told 'em the cotton growed so tall you had to
put little chaps up the stalk to get the top bolls.
"But they tole some things was true. Said in Mississippi the cotton
growed so tall and spread so it took two to pick a row, and I found
that true.
"Old master always fed his hands good so they could meet the demands
when he called on 'em. He worked 'em close but he fed 'em.
"He raised wheat, corn, peas, rye, and oats, and all such like that.
Oh, he was a round farmer all right. And he raised feed for his stock
too.
"My old boss used to raise sweet potatoes enough to last three years.
"The people of the South was carried through that sweat of freedom.
They was compelled to raise cotton and not raise much to eat. They
told 'em they could buy it cheaper than raise it, but it was a
mistake.
"I used to have a wood yard on the Mississippi and when the steamers
come down the river, I used to go aboard and quiz the people from the
North. Heap of 'em would get chips of different woods and put it away
to carry home to show. And they'd take cotton bolls and some limbs to
show the people at home how cotton grows.
"To my idea, the North is wiser than the South. My idea of the North
is they is more samissive to higher trades--buildin' wagons and
buggies, etc.
"Years ago they wasn't even a factory here to make cloth. Had to send
the cotton to the North and then order the cloth from the North, and
time they got it the North had all the money.
"In the old days they was only two countries they could depend on to
raise tobacco and that was Virginia and South Carolina.
"I can remember a right smart before the War started. Now I can set
down and think of every horse's name my old boss had. He had four he
kept for Sunday business. Had Prince, Bill, Snap, and Puss. And every
Saturday evening he had the boys take 'em in the mill pond and wash
'em off--fix 'em up for Sunday."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Lizzie Johnson,
Biscoe, Arkansas
Age: 65
"I was born at Holly Springs, Mississippi. My mother was fifteen years
old when the surrender come on. Her name was Alice Airs. Mama said she
and grandma was sold in the neighborhood and never seen none of her
folks after they was sold. The surrender come on. They quit and went
on with some other folks that come by. Mama got away from them and
married the second year of the surrender. She said she really got
married; she didn't jump the broom. Mama was a cook in war times.
Grandma churned and worked in the field. Grandma lived in to herself
but mama slept on the kitchen floor. They had a big pantry built
inside the kitchen and in both doors was a sawed-out place so the cats
could come and go.
"My father was sold during of the War too but he never said much about
it. He said some of the slaves would go in the woods and the masters
would be afraid to go hunt them out without dogs. They made bows and
arrows in the woods.
"I heard my parents tell about the Ku Klux come and made them cook
them something to eat. They drunk water while she was cooking. I heard
them say they would get whooped if they sot around with a book in
their hand. When company would come they would turn the pot down and
close the shutters and doors. They had preaching and prayed that way.
The pot was to drown out the sound.
"They said one man would sell off his scrawny niggers. He wanted fine
looking stock on his place. He couldn't sell real old folks. They kept
them taking care of the children and raising chickens, turkeys, ducks,
geese, and made some of them churn and milk.
"My stepfather said he knowed a man married a woman after freedom and
found out she was his mother. He had been sold from her when he was a
baby. They quit and he married ag'in. He had a scar on his thigh she
recollected. The scar was right there when he was grown. That brought
up more talk and they traced him up to be her own boy.
"Hester Swafford died here in Biscoe about seven years ago. Said she
run away from her owners and walked to Memphis. They took her up over
there. Her master sent one of the overseers for her. She rode
astraddle behind him back. They got back about daylight. They whooped
her awful and rubbed salt and pepper in the gashes, and another man
stood by handed her a hoe. She had to chop cotton all day long. The
women on the place would doctor her sores.
"Grandma said she remembered the stars falling. She said it turned
dark and seem like two hours sparkles fell. They said stars fell. She
said it was bad times. People was scared half to death. Mules and
horses just raced. She said it took place up in the day. They didn't
have time-pieces to know the time it come on.
"Young folks will be young the way I see it. They ain't much
different. Times is sure 'nough hard for old no 'count folks. Young
folks makes their money and spends it. We old folks sets back needing.
Times is lots different now. It didn't used to be that way."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Louis Johnson
721 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 86
"My father said I was fifteen when peace was declared. In slavery days
they didn't low colored folks to keep their ages and didn't low em to
be educated. I was born in Georgia. I went to a little night school
but I never learned to read. I never learned to write my own name.
"I never did see no fightin' a tall but I saw em refugeein' goin'
through our country night and day. Said they was goin' to the Blue
Ridge Mountains to pitch battle. They was Rebels gettin' out of the
way of the Yankees.
"Old master was a pretty tough old fellow. He had work done aplenty.
He had a right smart of servants. I wasn't old enough to take a record
of things and they didn't low grown folks to ask too many questions.
"I can sit and study how the rich used to do. They had poor white
folks planted off in the field to raise hounds to run the colored
folks. Colored folks used to run off and stay in the woods. They'd
kill old master's hogs and eat em. I've known em to stay six months at
a time. I've seen the hounds goin' behind niggers in the woods.
"We had as good a time as we expected. My old master fed and clothed
very well but we had to keep on the go. Some masters was good to em.
Yes, madam, I'd ruther be in times like now than slavery. I like it
better now--I like my liberty.
"In slavery days they made you pray that old master and mistress would
hold their range forever.
"My old master was Bob Johnson. He lived in Muskoge County where I was
born. Then he moved to Harris County and that's where the war ketched
him. He become to be a widower there.
"I member when the Yankees come and took old master's horses and
mules.
"I had a young boss that went to the war and come home with the
rheumatism. He was walkin' on crutches and I know they sent him to a
refugee camp to see to things and when he come back he didn't have no
crutches. I guess the Yankees got em.
"Childern travels now from one seaport to another but in them days
they kept the young folks confined. I got along all right 'cept I
didn't have no liberty.
"I believe it was in June when they read the freedom papers. They told
us we was free but we could stay if we wanted to. My father left Bob
Johnson's and went to work for his son-in-law. I was subject to him
cause I was a minor, so I went with him. Before freedom, I chopped
cotton, hoed corn and drapped peas, but now I was big enough to follow
the plows. I was a cowboy too. I tended to the cows. Since I've been
grown I been a farmer--always was a farmer. I never would live in town
till I got disabled for farming.
"After we was free we was treated better. They didn't lash us then. We
was turned loose with the white folks to work on the shares. We always
got our share. They was more liberal along that line than they is now.
"After I come to this country of Arkansas I bought several places but
I failed to pay for them and lost them. Now my wife and me are livin'
on my daughter.
"I been married three times. I married 'fore I left Georgia but me and
her couldn't get along. Then I married in Mississippi and I brought
her to Arkansas. She died and now I been married to this woman
fifty-three years.
"I been belongin' to the church over forty years. I have to belong to
the church to give thanks for my chance here now. I think the people
is gettin' weaker and wiser."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Mag Johnson,
Clarendon, Arkansas
Age: 65 or 70?
"Pa was born in North Ca'lina. Ma was born in Virginia. Their names
George and Liza Fowler.
"Ma's fust owner what I heard her tell 'bout was Master Ed McGehee in
Virginia. He's the one what brung her in a crowd of nigger traders to
Somerville, Tennessee. The way it was, a cavalry of Yankees got in
back of them. The nigger trader gang drive up. They got separated. My
ma and her gang hid in a cave two weeks an' not much to eat. The
Yankees overtook 'em hid in the cave and passed on. Ma say one day the
nigger traders drive up in front McGehee's yard and they main heads
and Master Ed had a chat. They hung around till he got ready and took
off a gang of his own slaves wid him. They knowed he was after selling
them off when he left wid 'em.
"Ben Trotter in Tennessee bought ma and three more nigger girls. The
Yankees took and took from 'em. They freed a long time b'fore she
knowed of. She said they would git biscuits on Sunday around. Whoop
'em if one be gone.
"Ole miss went out to the cow pen an' ma jus' a gal like stole outen a
piece er pie and a biscuit and et it. The cook out the cow pen too but
the three gals was doing about in the house and yard. Ma shut polly up
in the shed room. Then she let it out when she et up the pie and
biscuit. Ole miss come in. Polly say, 'Liza shut me up, Liza shut me
up.' She missed the pie. Called all four the girls and ma said, 'I
done et it. I was so hungry.' Ole miss said that what polly talking
'bout, but she didn't understand the bird so very well. Ole miss say,
'I'm goiner tell Ben and have him whoop you.' That scared all four the
girls case he did whoop her which he seldom done. She say when Master
Ben come they stood by the door in a 'joining room. Ma say 'fore God
ole miss tole him. Master Ben sont 'em out to pick up apples. He had a
pie a piece cooked next day and a pan of hot biscuits and brown gravy,
tole 'em to fill up. He tole 'em he knowed they got tired of corn
batter cakes, milk and molasses but it was best he had to give them
till the War was done.
"Ma said her job got to be milking, raising and feeding the fowls,
chickens, ducks, geese, guineas, and turkeys all. The Yankees
discouraged her. They come so many times till they cleaned 'em out she
said.
"What they done to shut up polly's mouf was sure funny. He kept on
next morning saying, 'Liza shut me up, Liza shut me up.' Liza pulled
up her dress and underskirt and walked back'ards, bent down at him. He
got scared. He screamed and then he hollered 'Ball-head and no eyes'
all that day.
"Ma said they had corn shuckings and corn shellings and brush
burnings. Had music and square dancing plenty times.
"When they got free they didn't know what it was nor what in the world
to do with it. What they said 'minds me of folks now what got
education. Seems like they don't know what to do nor where to put it.
"Pa said the nigger men run off to get a rest. They'd take to the
woods and canebrakes. Once four of the best nigger fellars on their
master's place took to the woods for to git a little rest. The master
and paddyrolls took after 'em. They'd been down in there long 'nough
they'd spotted a hollow cypress with a long snag of a limb up on it.
It was in the water. They got them some vines and fixed up on the
snag. They heard the dogs and the horn. They started down in the
hollow cypress. One went down, the others coming on. He started
hollering. But he thought a big snake in there. He brought up a cub on
his nearly bare foot. They clem out and went from limb to limb till
they got so away the dogs would loose trail. They seen the mama bear
come and nap four her cubs to another place. His foot swole up so.
They had to tote my pa about. Next day the dogs bayed them up in the
trees. Master took them home, doctored his foot. Ast 'em why they
runed off and so much to be doing. They tole 'em they taking a little
rest. He whooped them every one.
"Pretty soon the Yankees come along and broke the white folks up. Pa
went wid the Yankees. He said he got grown in the War. He fed horses
for his general three years. He got arm and shoulder wounded, scalped
his head. They mustered him out and he got his bounty. He got sixty
dollars every three months.
"He died at Holly Grove, Arkansas about fifty years ago. Them was his
favorite stories."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Mandy Johnson
607 Cypress Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 92
"This is me. I'se old and ain't no 'count. I was done grown when the
war started. You _know_ I was grown when I was washin' and ironin'. I
stood right there and watched the soldiers goin' to war. I heered the
big bell go b-o-n-g, b-o-n-g and everybody sayin' 'There's goin' to be
a war, there's goin' to be a war!' They was gettin' up the force to go
bless your heart! Said they'd be back by nine tomorrow and some said
'I'm goin' to bring you a Yankee scalp.' And then they come again and
want _so many_. You could hear the old drums go boom--boom. They was
drums on this side and drums on that side and them drums was a
talkin'! Yes'm, I'se here when it started--milkin' cows, washin' and
cookin'. Oh, that was a time. Oh my Lord--them Yankees come in just
like blackbirds. They said the war was to free the folks. Lots of 'em
got killed on the first battle.
"I was born in Bastrop, Louisiana in February--I was a February colt.
"My old master was John Lovett and he was good to us. If anybody put
their hands on any of his folks they'd have him to whip tomorrow. They
called us old John's free niggers. Yes ma'm I had a good master. I
ain't got a scratch on me. I stayed right in the house and nussed till
I'se grown. We had a good time but some of 'em seed sights. I stayed
there a year after we was free.
"I married durin' the war and my husband went to war with my uncle. He
didn't come back and I waited three years and then I married again.
"You know they used to give the soldiers furloughs. One time one young
man come home and he wouldn't go back, just hid out in the cane brake.
Then the men come that was lookin' for them that 'exerted' durin' the
war and they waited till he come out for somethin' to eat and they
caught him and took him out in the bayou and shot him. That was the
onliest dead man I ever seen. I seen a heap of live ones.
"The war was gettin' hot then and old master was in debt. Old mistress
had a brother named Big Marse Lewis. He wanted to take all us folks
and sell us in New Orleans and said he'd get 'em out of debt. But old
master wouldn't do it. I know Marse Lewis got us in the jail house in
Bastrop and Mars John come to get us out and Marse Lewis shot him
down. I went to my master's burial--yes'm, I did! Old mistress didn't
let us go to New Orleans either. Oh Lordy, I was young them days and I
wasn't afraid of nothin'.
"Oh ho! What you talkin' 'bout? Ku Klux? They come out here just like
blackbirds. They tried to scare the people and some of 'em they
killed.
"Yes Lord, I seen a heap. I been through a lot and I seen a heap, but
I'm here yet. But I hope I never live to see another war.
"When peace was declared, old mistress say 'You goin' to miss me' and
I sho did. They's good to us. I ain't got nothin' to do now but sit
here and praise the Lord cause I gwine to go home some day."
Interviewer: Mrs. Carol Graham
Person interviewed: Marion Johnson
"Howdy, Missy, glad to see you again. As you sees I'm 'bout wound up
on my cotton baskets and now I got these chairs to put bottoms in but
I can talk while I does this work cause it's not zacting like making
baskets.
"'Pears like you got a cold. Now let me tell you what to do for it.
Make a tea out of pine straw and mullein leaves an' when you gets
ready for bed tonight take a big drink of it an' take some tallow and
mix snuff with it an' grease the bottom of your feets and under your
arms an' behind your ears and you'll be well in the mornin'.
"Yes'm hits right in the middle of cotton picking time now. Always
makes me think of when I was a boy. I picked cotton some but I got
lots of whippins 'cause I played too much. They was some chinquapin
trees in the fiel' and I jest natchally couldn' help stopping to pick
up some 'chanks' now an' then. I likes the fall time. It brings back
the old times on the plantation. After frost had done fell we would go
possum huntin' on bright moonlight nights and we would mostly find Mr.
Possum settin' in the 'simmon tree just helpin' hisself to them good
old ripe juicy 'simmons. We'd catch the possum an' then we'd help
ourselves to the 'simmons. Mentionin' 'simmons, my mammy sure could
make good pies with them. I can most taste them yet and 'simmon bread
too.
"He! he! he! jes' look at that boy goin' by with that stockin' on his
head. Niggers used to wear stockings on they legs but now they wear
them on they heads to make they hair lay down.
"Since this rain we had lately my rheumatism been botherin' me some. I
is gone to cutting my fingernails on Wednesday now so's I'll have
health; an' I got me a brand new remedy too an' it's a good one. Take
live earth worms an' drop them in hot grease an' let them cook till
there's no 'semblance of a worm then let the grease cool an' grease
the rheumatic parts. You know that rheumatism done come back cause I
got out of herbs. I just got to git some High John the Conqueror root
an' fix a red flannel sack an' put it in the sack along with five
finger grass, van van oil, controllin' powder, magnetic loadstone an'
drawin' powder. Now, missy, the way I fixes that sure will ward off
evil an' bring heaps of good luck. And I just got to fix myself that.
You better let me fix you one too. If you and me had one of them
wouldn't neither one of us be ailing. You needs some lucky hand root
too to carry round with you all the time. Better let Uncle Marion fix
you up.
"Did I ever tell you I used to tell fortunes with cards? But I stopped
that cause I got my jack now and it's so much truthfuler than cards.
You 'members when I answered that question for you and missy last year
and how what I told you come true. Yes'm I never misses now. Uncle
Marion can sure help you.
"There goes sister Melissy late with her washin' ergin. You know,
Missy, niggers is always slow and late. They'll be wantin' God to wait
on them when they start to heaven. White folks is always on time and
they sings 'When The Roll Is Called Up Yonder I'll Be There', and
niggers sing 'Don't Call The Roll Till I Get There.' You know I hates
for it to get so cool. I'll have to move in off the gallery to work.
When I sits on the gallery I sees everybody pass an' changes the time
of day with them. 'Howdy, Sister Melissy. Late ergin I see.' Yes, I
sees everything that goes on from my gallery. I hates for cool weather
to come so's I have to move in.
"Ain't that a cute little feller in long pants? Lawsy me! chillun
surely dresses diffunt now from when I was a chap. I didn' know
nothin' 'bout no britches; I went in my shirt tail--didn' wear nothin'
but a big old long shirt till I was 'bout twelve. You know that little
fellow's mama had me treat him for worms. I made him a medicine of
jimson weed an' lasses for his mama to give him every morning before
breakfast an' that sure will kill 'em. Yes'm, that little fellow is
all dressed up. 'Minds me of when I used to dress up to go courtin' my
gal. I felt 'bout as dressed up as that little fellow does. I'd take
soot out of the chimney and black my shoes then take a biscuit and rub
over them to shine 'em. You know biscuits have grease in them and my
shoes looked just like they done been shined by the bootblack.
"Law, missy, I don' know nothin' to tell you this time. Maybe if you
come back I can think of something 'bout when niggers was in politics
after the war but now I just can't 'member nothin'."
Interviewer: Carol Graham (Add.)
Person interviewed: Marion Johnson
El Dorado, Ark.
Age: ?
"Dar's golden streets and a pearly gate somewhars,
Dar's golden streets and a pearly gate somewhars,
I gwian ter keep on searchin' till I finds hit,
Dar's golden streets and a pearly gate somewhars.
"Dar's perfect peace somewhars,
Dar's perfect peace somewhars,
I gwian ter keep on searchin' till I finds hit,
Dar's perfect peace somewhars.
"Good mornin', Missie! Glad to see you again. I is workin' on chairs
again. Got these five to bottom for Mr. Brown and I sho can talk while
I does this work.
"Ain't the sunshine pretty this mornin'? I prayed last night that the
Lord would let today be sunny. I 'clare, Missie, hits rained so much
lately till I bout decided me and all my things was goin' to mildew.
Yes'm, me and all-l-l my things. And I done told you I likes to set on
my gallery to work. I likes to watch the folks go by. It seems so
natchel like to set here and howdy with em.
"I been in this old world a long time, but just can recollect bein' a
slave. Since Christmas ain't long past it sets me to thinkin' bout the
last time old Sandy Claus come to see us. He brought us each one a
stick of candy, a apple and a orange, and he never did come to see us
no more after that time cause we peeped. That was the last time he
ever filt our stockin'. But you knows how chaps is. We just had to
peep.
"You knows I was born and raised in Louisiana. I done told you that
many times. And I just wish you could see the vituals on old marster's
table at Christmas time. Lawdy, but his table jes groaned with good
things. Old Mistress had the cook cookin' for weeks before time it
seemed to me. There was hams and turkeys and chickens and cakes of all
kinds. They sho was plenty to eat. And they was a present for all the
niggers on the place besides the heaps of pretty things that Marster's
family got off the tree in the parlor.
"When I first began to work on the farm old master put me to cuttin'
sprouts, then when I got big enough to make a field hand, I went to
the field then. I done lots of kinds of work--worked in the field,
split rails, built fences, cleared new ground and just anything old
marster wanted me to do. I members one time I got a long old splinter
in my foot and couldn't get it out, so my mammy bound a piece of fat
meat round my foot and let it stay bout a couple days, then the
splinter come out real easy like. And I was always cutting myself too
when I was a chap. You know how careless chaps is. An soot was our
main standby for cuts. It would close the gash and heal it. And soot
and sugar is extra good to stop bleeding. Sometime, if I would be in
the field too far away from the house or anyplace where we could get
soot, we would get cobwebbs from the cotton house and different places
to stop the bleeding. One time we wasn't close to neither and one the
men scraped some felt off from a old black hat and put it on to stop
the bleedin'.
"My feets was tough. Didn't wear shoes much till I was grown. Went
barefooted. My feets was so tough I could step on stickers and not
feel em. Just to show how tough I was I used to take a blackberry limb
and take my toes and skin the briers off and it wouldn't hurt my
feets.
"Did I ever tell you bout my first pair of breeches? I was bout twelve
then and before that I went in my shirt tail. I thought I was goin' to
be so proud of my first breeches but I didn't like them. They was too
tight and didn't have no pockets. They come just below my knees and I
felt so uncomfortable-like that I tore em off me. And did I get a
lickin? I got such a lickin' that when my next ones was made I was
glad to put em on and wear em.
"I stayed round with marster's boys a lot, and them white boys was as
good to me as if I had been their brother. And I stayed up to the big
house lots of nights so as to be handy for runnin' for old master and
mistress. The big house was fine but the log cabin where my mammy
lived had so many cracks in it that when I would sleep down there I
could lie in bed and count the stars through the cracks. Mammy's beds
was ticks stuffed with dried grass and put on bunks built on the wall,
but they did sleep so good. I can most smell that clean dry grass now.
Mammy made her brooms from broom sage, and she cooked on a fireplace.
They used a oven and a fireplace up at the big house too. I never saw
no cookstove till I was grown.
"I members one time when I was a little shaver I et too many green
apples. And did I have the bellie ache, whoo-ee! And mammy poured cold
water over hot ashes and let it cool and made me drink it and it sure
cured me too. I members seein' her make holly bush tea, and parched
corn tea too for sickness. Nother time I had the toothache and mammy
put some axle grease in the hollow of the tooth and let it stay there.
The pain stopped and the tooth rotted out and we didn't have to pull
it.
"Whee! Did you see how that car whizzed round the corner? There warn't
no cars in my young days. They had mostly two-wheeled carts with
shafts for the horse to be hitched in, and lots of us drove oxen to
them carts. I plowed oxen many-a-day and rode em to and from the
field. Let me tell you, Missy, if you don't know nothin' bout
oxen--they surely does sull on you--you beat them and the more you
beat the more they sulls. Yes'm, they sure sulls in hot weather, but
it never gets too cold for em.
"Howdy, Parson. That sho was good preachin' Sunday. Yes suh, it was
fine.
"That's the pastor of our church, an he sho preached two good sermons
last Sunday. Sunday mornin' he preached 'Every kind of fish is caught
in a net' and that night he preached 'Marvel not you must be born
again.' But that mornin' sermon, it capped the climax. Parson sho told
em bout it. He say, 'First, they catch the crawfish, and that fish
ain't worth much; anybody that gets back from duty or one which says I
will and then won't is a crawfish Christian.' Then he say, 'The next
is a mudcat; this kind of a fish likes dark trashy places. When you
catch em you won't do it in front water; it likes back water and wants
to stay in mud. That's the way with some people in church. You can't
never get them to the front for nothin'. You has to fish deep for
them. The next one is the jellyfish. It ain't got no backbone to face
the right thing. That the trouble with our churches today. Too many
jellyfishes in em.' Next, he say is the gold fish--good for nothin'
but to look at. They is pretty. That the way folks is. Some of them go
to church just to sit up and look pretty to everybody. Too pretty to
sing; too pretty to say Amen! That what the parson preached Sunday.
Well, I'm a full-grown man and a full-grown Christian, praise the
Lord. Yes,'m, parson is a real preacher."
VOODOO MAN
UNCLE MARION JOHNSON, EX-SLAVE.
[Date Stamp: OCT 26 1936]
"Yes young missey ah'll sho tell yo-all whut yo wants ter know. Yes'm
ole Uncle Marion sho kin. Mah price is fo' bits fer one question.
No'm, not fo' bits fo th' two uv yo but fo' bits each. Yo say yo all
ain't got much money and yo all both wants ter know th' same thing.
Well ah reckon since yo all is been comin' roun' and tawkin' to ole
Uncle Marion ah cud make hit answer th' one question fuh both uv yo
fuh fo' bits 'tween yo. No'm ah caint bring hit out heah. Yo all will
haft tuh come inside th' house."
"[TR: " should be (]We went inside the house and Uncle Marion
unwrapped his voodoo instrument which proved to be a small glass
bottle about 2-1/2 inches tall wrapped to the neck in pink washable
adhesive tape and suspended from a dirty twine about six inches long.
At the top of the twine was a slip knot and in a sly way Uncle Marion
would twist the cord before asking the question. If the cord was
twisted in one direction the bottle would swing in a certain direction
and if the cord was twisted in the other direction the bottle would
swing in the opposite direction. Uncle Marion thought that we did not
observe this and of course we played dumb. By twisting the cord and
slyly working the muscles of his arm Uncle Marion made his instrument
answer his questions in the way that he wished them answered.)
"Now ifn the answer to huh question is yais swing towards huh and ifn
taint be still. (The bottle slowly swung toward me.) Now missy see hit
have done answered yo question and yo done seed hit say yes. Yes'm hit
sho am yes and yo' jes wait and see ifn ole Uncle Marion aint right.
Now yo jes answer the same question fuh tother young missy heah. Now
ifn the answer is yais yo turn toward huh which am the opposite to
which yo jes turnt and ifn the answer is no sta' still. (The bottle
then slowly turned around and went in Mrs. Thompson's direction.)
"Yo say whut do ah call dis heah? Ah calls hit a "jack". Yas'm hits a
jack an' hit sho will answer any question yo wants ter ask hit. No'm
yo cuden ask hit yo-self. Ah would haft ter ask hit fer yo. An' let me
tell yo' ole Uncle Marion sho kin help youall chillun. Ah kin help yo
all ward off evil and jinx; ah kin help yo all git a job; ah kin help
yo all ovah come the ruination uv yo home. Uncle Marion sho cain give
yo a helpin good luck hand. Ah cain help yo ovah come yo enemies.
"Now since ah knows yo young misses am in'erested an ah knows yo will
sen' othah fokes tuh me what am in trouble ah am gointer tell yo all
whut some uv mah magic remidies is so yo all kin tell fokes that ah
have them yarbs (herbs) fuh sale. Yes'm ah has them yarbs right hea
fuh sale and hit sho will work too.
"Now thar is High John the Conquerer Root. If'n yo totes one o' them
roots in yo pocket yo will nevah be widout money. No mam. And you'll
always conquer yo troubles an yo enemies. An fokes can sho git them
yarbs thru me. Efn Uncle Marion don' have non on han' he sho kin git
em for em.
"Den dar is five finger grass, ah kin git dat fuh yo too. Ifn dat is
hung up ovah th' bedstid hit brings restful sleep and keeps off evil.
Each one uv dem five fingahs stans for sumpin too. One stans fuh good
luck, two fuh money, thee fuh wisdom, fo' fuh power an five fuh love.
"Yas'm an ah kin buil' a unseen wall aroun' yo so as ter keep evil,
jinx and enemies way fum yo and hit'll bring heaps uv good luck too.
The way ah does hit is this way: Ah takes High John the Conqueror Root
and fixes apiece of red flannel so as ter make a sack and puts hit in
the sack along wid magnetic loadstone, five finger grass, van van oil,
controllin' powdah and drawin powdah and the seal uv powah. This heah
mus be worn aroun the neck and sprinkle hit ever mornin fuh seven
mornins wid three drops uv holy oil. Then theah is lucky han' root.
Hit looks jes like a human han'. If yo carries hit on yo person hit
will shake yo jinx and make yo a winnah in all kinds o games and
hit'll help yo choose winnin numbers."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Martha Johnson,
West Memphis
Age: 71
"I was born at Lake Providence, Louisiana second year after the War.
Mother's mother was left in Jackson, Tennessee. Mother was sold at
Vicksburg, Mississippi. Father's mother was left at Pittsburg,
Virginia. Father was brought to Lake Providence and sold to Master
Ross and Mr. Coleman was his overseer. He was stripped stark naked and
put up on the block. That was Nigger Traders Rule, he said. He was
black as men get to be. Mother was three-fourths white. Her master was
her father. He had two families. They was raised up in the same house
with his white family. Master's white wife raised her and kept her
till her death. He was dead I think.
"Then her young white master sold her. He sold his half-sister. She
met my father at Vicksburg, Mississippi where he mustered out. She was
chambermaid when the surrender came on, on the Gray Eagle boat from
Vicksburg to Memphis. Mother died when I was nine years old. Papa had
no boys, only three girls. I was his 'Tom Boy.' I did the milking and
out-of-door turns. Papa was a small man. He weighed 150 pounds. He
carpentered, made and mended shoes, and was a blacksmith. We farmed
and farmed. I was chambermaid in Haynes, Arkansas hotel three years. I
washed and ironed. I'm not much cook. I never was fond of cooking.
"I never voted. I'm not starting now. I'm too old.
"Times is hard. You can't get ahead no way. It keeps you hustling all
the time to live. Times is going pretty fast. In some ways times is
better for some people and harder for other people.
"These young folks don't want to be advised and I don't advise them
except my own children. I tell them all they listen to. They listen
now better than they did when they was younger. They are all grown.
"I don't get no help from nowhere but my children a little. I own my
home."
Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson
Person interviewed: Millie Johnson (Old Bill)
El Dorado, Arkansas
Age: ?
"I was born in Caledonia, Arkansas but I don't know when. I just can't
tell you nothing hardly about when I was a child because my mind goes
and comes. I was a slave and my white folks were good to me. They let
me play and have a good time just like their children did.
"After I got grown I run around terrible. My husband quit me a long
time ago. The white folks let me have my way. They said I was mean and
if my husband fooled with me, told me to shoot him. I am going back
home to Caledonia when I get a chance. My sister's boy brought me up
here; Mack Ford is his name.
"A long time ago--I don't know how long it's been--I came out of the
back door something hung their teeth in my ankle. I hollered and
looked down and it was a big old rattlesnake. I cried to my sister to
get him off of me. She was scared, so all I knew to do was run, jump
and holler. I ran about--oh, I don't know how far--with the snake
hanging to my ankle. The snake would not let me go, and it wasn't but
one thing for me to do and that was stop and pull the snake off of me.
I stopped and began pulling. I pulled and pulled and pulled and
pulled. The snake would not let me go. I began pulling again. After
awhile I got it off. When I pulled the snake away the snake brought
his mouth full of my meat. You talk about hurting, that like to have
killed me. That place stayed sore for twenty years before it healed
up. After it had been healed a couple years I then scratched the
place on a bob wire that inflamed it. That has been about 25 or 30
years ago and it's been sore ever since. Lord, I sure have been
suffering too. As soon as it gets well I am going back to Caledonia. I
am praying for God to let me live to get back home. Mack Ford is the
cause of me being up here.
"I was born in slavery time way before the War. My name is Millie
Johnson but they call me Bill."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Rosie Johnson,
Holly Grove, Arkansas
Age: 76
"I was born and raised on Mr. Dial's place. Mama belong to them. My
papa belong to Frank Kerr. His old mistress' name Jane Roberts in
Alabama. His folks come from Alabama. He say Jane Roberts wouldn't
sell her slaves. They was aired (heired) down mong the children. David
Dial had sebral children and mama was his house girl and nurse. They
was married in Dial's yard. My papa name Jacob Kerr. They took me to
Texas when I warn't but two years old. We rode in the covered wagon
where they hauled the provisions. They muster stayed a pretty good
time. I heard em talkin' what all they raised out there and what a
difference they found in the country. They wanted to go. They didn't
wanter be in the war they said. It was too close to suit them.
"I recken I was too small to recollect the Ku Klux. I heard em talk
bout how mean the Jayhaws was.
"I never voted. What business I got votin' I would jes' lak you tell
me? I don't believe in it no more'n nuthin'.
"I been farmin' all my life. I had fourteen children. Eight livin'
now. They scattered bout up North. It took meat and bread to put in
their mouths and somebody workin' to get it there I tell you. There
ain't a lazy bone in me. I jes' give out purty nigh. I wash and iron
some when I ken get it.
"I got a hog and a garden. I ain't got nuthin' else. I don't own no
house, no place. I got a few chickens bout the place what eat up the
scraps what the pig don't get.
"I signed up three years ago. I don't get nuthin' now. What I scrape
round and make is all I has.
"I was born in June 1861. I don't recollect what day they said. Pear
lack it been so long. When it come to work I recken I is had a hard
time all my life. I never minded nuthin' till I got so slow and no
count."
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Saint Johnson
Izard Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: --
Occupation: Drayman
"As far as slavery is concerned I know nothing about it except as the
white people told me. My mother would ask me what they told me and I
would tell her that Miss Annie said I didn't have to call her father
'Master' any more. And she would say, 'No, you don't.'
"My father's name was Wiley Johnson. He was ninety years old when he
died. He was born in Cave Spring, Georgia, in Floyd County. My mother
was born in the same place. Both of them were Johnsons. They were
married during slavery times. I don't know what her name was before
she married.
"Anyway, I've told you enough. I've told you too much. How come they
want all this stuff from the colored people anyway? Do you take any
stories from the white people? They know all about it. They know more
about it than I do. They don't need me to tell it to them.
"I don't tell my age. I just say I was born after slavery. Then I
can't be bothered about all this stuff about records. Colored people
didn't keep any records. How they goin' to know when they were born or
anything? I don't believe in all that stuff.
"You know these young people as well as I do. They ain't nothin'.
"I ain't got nothin' to say about politics. You know what the truth
is. Why don't you say it? You don't need to hide behind my words.
You're educated and I'm not; you don't need to get anything from me.
"Yes, I had some schoolin'. But you know more about these things than
I do."