A mighty sweet old lady to talk to.
Interviewer: Pernella M. Anderson
Person interviewed: Rachel Hankins
El Dorado, Arkansas
Age: 88
"I was born in Alabama. My old mistress and master told me that I was
born in 1850. Get that good--1850! That makes me about 88 but I can't
member the day and month. I was a girl about twelve or fourteen years
old when the old darkies was set free. My old mistress and master did
not call us niggers; they called us darkies. I can't recollect much
about slavery and I can recollect lots too at times. My mind goes and
comes. I tell you children you all is living a white life nowdays. When
I was coming up I was sold to a family in Alabama by the name of
Columbus. They was poor people and they did not own but a few slaves and
it was a large family of them and that made us have to work hard. We
lived down in the field in a long house. We ladies and girls lived in a
log cabin together. Our cabin had a stove room made on the back and it
was made of clay and grass with a hearth made in it and we cooked on the
hearth. We got our food from old mistress's and master's house. We
raised plenty of grub such as peas, greens, potatoes. But our potatoes
wasn't like the potatoes is now. They was white and when you eat them
they would choke you, especially if they was cold. And sorghum molasses
was the only kind there was. I don't know where all these different
kinds of molasses come from.
"They issued our grub out to us to cook. They had cows and we got milk
sometimes but no butter. They had chickens and eggs but we did not. We
raised cotton, sold part and kept enough to make our clothes out of.
Raised corn. And there wasn't no grist mills then so we had a pounding
rock to pound the corn on and we pound and pound until we got the corn
fine enough to make meal, then we separated the husk from the meal and
parched the husk real brown and we used it for coffee. We used brown
sugar from sorghum molasses. We spun all our thread and wove it into
cloth with a hand loom. The reason we called that cloth home-spun is
because it was spun at home. Splitting rails and making rail fences was
all the go. Wasn't no wire fences. Nothing but rail fences. Bushing and
clearing was our winter jobs. You see how rough my hands is? Lord have
mercy! child, I have worked in my life.
"Master Columbus would call us niggers up on Sunday evening and read the
Bible to us and tell us how to do and he taught us one song to sing and
it was this 'Keep Your Lamp Trimmed and Burning' and he'd have us to
sing it every Sunday evening and he told us that that song meant to do
good and let each other see our good. When it rained we did not have
meeting but when it was dry we always had meeting.
"I never went to school a day in my life. I learned to count money after
I was grown and married.
"My feet never saw a shoe until I was fourteen. I went barefooted in ice
and snow. They was tough. I did not feel the cold. I never had a cold
when I was young. If we had ep-p-zu-dit we used different things to make
tea out of, such as shucks, cow chips, hog hoofs, cow hoofs. Ep-p-zu-dit
then is what people call flu now.
"When war broke out I was a girl just so big. All I can recollect is
seeing the soldiers march and I recollect them having on blue and gray
jackets. Some would ride and some would walk and when they all got
lined up that was a pretty sight. They would keep step with the music.
The Southern soldiers' song was 'Look Away Down in Dixie' and the
Northern soldiers' song was 'Yankee Doodle Dandy.' So one day after
coming in from the field old master called his slaves and told us we was
free and told us we could go or stay. If we stayed he would pay us to
work. We did not have nothing to go on so we stayed and he paid us.
Every 19th of June he would let us clean off a place and fix a platform
and have dancing and eating out there in the field. The 19th of June
1865 is the day we thought we was freed but they tell me now that we was
freed in January 1865 but we did not know it until June 19, 1865. Never
got a beating the whole time I was a slave.
"I came to north Arkansas forty years ago and I been in Union County a
short while. My name is Rachel Hankins."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Mary Jane Hardridge
1501 West Barraque St., Pine Bluff, Ark.
Age: 85
"Oh don't ask me that, honey. Yes, I was here in slavery days. I reckon
I was here before the Civil War; I was born in '58. I'm right now in my
birth county about four miles from this city.
"I can remember my young masters that went to war. One was named Ben and
one Chris. Old master's name was James Scull. He was kinda mixed up--he
wasn't the cruelest one in the world. I've heard of some that was worse
than he was. I never suffered for nothin' to eat.
"I can tell you about myself as far back as I can remember. I know I was
about thirteen or fourteen when the war ended.
"My father's birth home was in Virginia. His name was Flem Price and his
father was a doctor and a white man. Mother's name was Mary Price and
she was half Indian. You can tell that by looking at her picture. She
was born in Arkansas.
"I can remember seeing the soldiers. I had to knit socks for them. Used
to have to knit a pair a week. Yes ma'm I used to serve them. I had it
to do or get a whippin'. I nursed and I sewed a little. My mother was a
great seamstress. We did it by hand too. They didn't have no sewing
machines in them times.
"When my white folks went on summer vacations--they was rich and
traveled a great deal--mama always went along and she just left us
children on the plantation just like a cow would leave a calf. She'd
hate to do it though. I remember she went off one time and stayed three
months and left me sick in the white folks house on a pallet. I know I
just hollered and cried and mama cried too. There was another old
colored lady there and she took me to her house. We lived right on the
river where the boat landed and I remember the boat left at high noon
and I cried all the rest of the afternoon.
"I remember the first Yankee I ever saw. They called him Captain Hogan.
I had a white chile in my arms. He set there and asked the boss how many
Negroes did he have and the boss said what was the news. He come out to
let the Negroes know they was as free as he was and told Marse Jim to
bring all of them back from Texas. I know I run and told mama and she
said 'You better hush, you'll get a whippin'.'
"They sho didn't burn up nothin'--Just took the mules and horses. Now I
remember that--they didn't burn up nothin' where I lived.
"I heard of the Ku Klux but I never seen any. We was expectin' 'em
though at all times.
"My grandmother belonged to Creed Taylor and after freedom mama got her
and she lived there with the Sculls two years. My mother and father was
paid a salary and they paid me too--four dollars a month. And I remember
mama never would let me have it--just give me what she wanted me to
have. They treated us better than they did before the war. Cose they was
a little rough, but they couldn't whip you like they did. They could
threaten it though.
"I went to school just a little after freedom. Mama and papa wasn't able
to send me. Wasn't no colored teachers competent to teach then and we
had to pay the white teacher a dollar a month.
"I had very strict parents and was made to mind. When I went out I knew
when I was comin' in. I had one daughter who died when she was eight
years old and if I could bring her back now, I wouldn't do it cause I
know she would worry me to death.
"I used to sew a lot for people in Pine Bluff but I am too old now. I
own my home and I have some rooms rented to three young men students and
I get a little help from the Welfare so I manage to get along.
"Well good-bye--I'm glad you come."
#748
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Mary Jane Hardrige
1501 W. Barraque, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 79
"Well, I don't believe in signs much. My sister was sick about a year
once. They said she had the T. B. (tuberculosis). One day I was there
and she said, 'Sis, do you hear that peckerwood? He's drivin' a nail in
my coffin.' And sure enough she died not long after.
"But let me tell you I had a peculiar dream yesterday morning just
before day. There's a little child here. His mother died and left him,
the baby child. I dreamt his mother brought him to me. She said, 'I
brought my boy here and I want you to keep him.' I thought he come to me
just as naked as he could be. He kept sayin', 'Come on, Mrs. Hardrige,
and let's go home, I'm cold.' He didn't have a garment on. His mother
was with him and she's dead you know.
"I mentioned it to one of my neighbors and she said it was a sign of
some woman's death.
"I was very much devoted to the child. I love him, and that dream stayed
with me all day. I don't know but I've always heard if you dream of the
dead it's goin' to rain.
"I ain't four miles from where I was born. I was born across the river.
We belonged to Jim Scull. I've lived all my life in Jefferson County."
Interviewer: Pernella Anderson
Person Interviewed: O. C. Hardy
El Dorado, Ark.
Age: 69
"O. C. Hardy is my name and I is 69 years old. I like [HW: lack? KWF]
a lot of being a real old time slave, but I tell you I am a slave now,
and ain't no 1800 slave. I was born way down in Louisiana. We lived on a
plantation with some white people by the name of Chick Johnson. That is
the first place I remember we ever stayin' on. My ma and pa slave for
them folks. All of the children worked like slaves. What I mean by
working like slaves--we didn't stop to get our breath until night. I was
slavin' for just the white folks then and since I got grown and married
I've been slavin' for my wife and children and the white folks. My mama
and papa went in the name of their mistress and master's name and so did
I, so we was all Hardys.
"Sixty-nine years ago the time wasn't like it is now. Everything was
different. There was no cars, no airplanes, a few buggies, no trains.
The go was ox teams and stage coaches. People used ox teams in place of
mule and horse teams. Sometimes you would see ox teams with twelve and
fourteen oxen. The ox wore yokes that sometime weigh a hundred or more
pounds. The reason of that, they were so mean they had to wear them
yokes to hold em down. One yoke would go across two oxen's heads. They
could pull--oh my!--as much as some big trucks. We made much better
crops back in the 1800s than we do now. The winters was much harder and
you know the harder the winter the better the crop year you have. We
always plowed and turned our ground over in the hard of winter--that was
in order for the cold to kill all insect and germs in the ground. You
see, worms eats up your seed and plant, and germs do your seed and plant
just like they would do your body. So we got rid of them little
hinderings. In January we was ready to get our corn ground ready for
planting, and man! we raised some crops. I recollect one year way back
yonder we had what they called a centennial snow--that was the biggest
snow that's ever been and the best crop year I ever knowed. I started
plowing when I was about eight. Before then all I can remember doin' was
bushing. After gathering crops we split rails and built fences. We
played on Sunday evening. Our sport was huntin', fishin', and bird
thrashin' and trap settin'. To catch fish easy we baited snuff and
tobacco on the hook. We used to be bad about stealin' watermelons, eggs,
chickens and sweet potatoes and slippin' way down in the woods and
cookin'.
"Wasn't no such things as screen windows and doors. That is some of this
1900 stuff to my knowing. Flies and mosquitos was plentiful. Our cooking
was plain boiled or fried cause we cooked on fireplaces. Wasn't no
stoves. We used all brown sugar from syrup that turned to sugar. White
sugar is about forty years old to my knowings. My ma used to cook the
best old syrup cake and syrup potatoes pudding. She knitted all our
socks and sweaters for you couldn't buy things like that because stores
was few and she spun and wove for the white folks and knitted too."
#658
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Rosa Hardy
Biscoe, Arkansas
Age: ?
"I was born in Brownsville, Tennessee. My mother died when I was real
young, and I had no father. Pike Sutton was mother's master. He was my
old grandfather. He owned a big farm. Tove Sutton was his son and my
father. Mother was light but not as light as I am. I had a sister older
than I am I lived with. I never lived among white folks except in a town
with them. I don't know a thing about my people to tell. I don't know my
age. I give myself a birthday. I don't know the day nor month I was
born. But I'm old. I can count back enough to tell that.
"I work in the sewing room. I'm the oldest woman in there at De Valls
Bluff. I get twenty-one dollars and this month I am to get twenty-seven.
"If you don't have work times are not good. I know that. I don't hardly
know the young generation. Of course I see them but that is all. They
hurrying their way and I'm going my way."
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Ida Harper
819 West Pullen Street; Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 93
"Now what you want with me? I was born in Mississippi. I come here
tollable young. I'se ninety-three now.
"My old master mean to us. We used to watch for him to come in the big
gate, then we run and hide. He used to come to the quarters and make us
chillun sing. He make us sing Dixie. Sometimes he make us sing half a
day. Seems like Dixie his main song. I tell you I don't like it _now_. But
have mercy! He make us sing it. Seems like all the white folks like
Dixie. I'se glad when he went away to war.
"But they used to feed you. Heap better meat than you get now. I tell
you they _had_ things to eat in them days.
"I 'member when the soldiers was comin' through and runnin' the white
folks both ways. Law chile--you don't know nothin'! We used to hide in
the cistern. One time when the Yankees come in a rush my brother and me
hide in the feather bed.
"When the war ended, white man come to the field and tell my
mother-in-law she free as he is. She dropped her hoe and danced up to
the turn road and danced right up into old master's parlor. She went so
fast a bird could a sot on her dress tail. That was in June. That night
she sent and got all the neighbors and they danced all night long.
"I never went to school a day in my life. I wish I could read but they
ain't no use wishin' for spilt milk.
"How long I been in Arkansas? Let me see how many chillun I had since I
been to Arkansas. Let me see--I fotch four chillun with me and I'se the
mother of ten.
"Yes'm I sho' has worked hard. I worked in the field and cooked and
washed and ironed. But oh Lord I likes my freedom.
"I couldn't tell you what I think of this present generation. They is
just like a hoss on the battle field--white and black. They say
'Grandma, you just an old fogy.'
"I think they is another slave-time gal down in the next block. You want
me to show you?"