"I haven't done a day's work for seven years. I haven't been able. I
have a son, but he has a family of his own to support and can't do
nothin' for me. I have another son but he is now out of work himself. He
can't get anything to do. I just have to git along on what little I can
turn up myself, and what little I get from my friends.
"My husband died about seven years ago. I have lost two boys inside of
seven years. After they died, I went right on down. I ain't been no good
since. The youngest one, Mose, got killed on a Sunday night. I felt it
on Saturday night and screamed so that people had to come 'round me and
hold me and comfort me. Then on Sunday night Mose got shot and I went
crazy. He was my baby boy and he and his brother were my only support.
My other boy got sick and died at the hospital. When the man stepped on
the porch to tell me he was dead, I knew it when I heard him step up
before he could say a word. I can't git to see his wife now. She was the
sweetest woman ever was. She was sure good to my son. She treated him
like he was a baby. She was devoted to him and his last request to her
was to see to me. I don't know just where she is now, but she's in the
city somewheres. She would help me I know if I could get to her.
"My husband was a preacher. He pastored the St. John Baptist Church for
fifteen years. He lived here over thirty years before he died. I left a
good home in Brownsville, Tennessee. That's where we were married. I
have been married twice. I lived with my first husband, George Shaver, a
year. I married him about 1876. I was single for two years. After that
I married Rev. Hays. I lived with Rev. Hays about twenty-one years in
Brownsville, Tennessee. We bought a house and lot there. We were gettin'
along fine when we decided to come here. He was a shoemaker then. He
made shoes after he came here, too. I ran a restaurant in Brownsville. I
guess we lived together more then fifty years in all. He died seven
years ago.
"I rent these two rooms in this little shack. They won't give me no help
at the Welfare."
--- 1- 1937
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Tom Haynes
1110 W. Second Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age:
"I was six years old when the war ended--the day we was set free. My old
mistress, Miss Becky Franks, come in and say to my mother 'Addie, you is
free this morning' and commenced cryin'. She give my mother some jerked
beef for us.
"I know I run out in the yard where there was eighty Yankee soldiers and
I pulled out my shirt tail and ran down the road kickin' up the dust and
sayin', 'I'm free, I'm free!' My mother said, 'You'd better come back
here!'
"I never knew my mother to get but one whippin'. She put out her mouth
against old mistress and she took her out and give her a breshin'.
"I can remember away back. I can remember when I was three years old.
One day I was out in the yard eatin' dirt and had dirt all over my face.
Young master Henry come out and say 'Stick out your tongue, I'm goin' to
cut it off.' I was scared to death. He said 'Now you think you can quit
eatin' that dirt?' I said 'Yes' so he let me go.
"One time the Yankee soldiers took young Master Henry and hung him up by
the thumbs and tried to make him tell where the money was. Master
Henry's little brother Jim and me run and hid. We thought they was goin'
to hang us too. We crawled under the house just like two frogs lookin'
out.
"Old master had about thirty-five hands but some of em run away to war.
My father run away too, but the war ended before he could get into it.
"I went to school a little while, but my father died and my mother bound
me out to a white man.
"When we was first freed I know those eighty soldiers took us colored
folks to the county band in Monticello. There was forty soldiers in the
back and forty in front and we was in the swing.
"I learned to read after I was grown. I worked for the railroad in the
freight office fifteen years and learned to check baggage.
"I was a house mover when I was able, but I'm not able to work now. I
own this house here and I'm livin' on the relief.
"My father was a blacksmith and shoemaker--made all our shoes. I've
lived in town all my life.
"The people are better off free if they had any sense. They need a
leader. When they had a chance if they had bought property, but no--they
wanted to get in office and when they got in they didn't know how to
act. And the young people don't use their education to help
themselves."
#782
Interviewer: Bernice Bowden
Person Interviewed: Joe Haywood
2207 West Eleventh Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 76
"I was born the first day of January, 1862 Born in Mississippi,
Yazoo County. My mother said I was a New Year's present. A. M. Payne was
our owner.
"I just do 'member seein' the soldiers and that's all. I 'member the
brim of slavery and that's all.
"I member Henry Dixon. He was a Klu Klux. He was Klu Klukin round
breakin' up the benevolent societies. He was a real bad man. He just
went round with his crowd and broke 'em up. My owner was a good
man--good man. They all give him a good name.
"Our folks stayed there till I was plumb grown.
"I've farmed, carpentered, and all kinds of work on the plantation. I've
been a engineer in a gin and gettin' out crops every year.
"After I left Mississippi I just roved around. Went through Louisiana to
Texas. I lived in Texas. I reckon, from 1893 to '96. Then I started to
rove again. I roved from Texas back home to Mississippi in 1902. Stayed
there till 1932, then I roved over here to Arkansas. I done got too old
to rove now.
"School? Oh Lord, I went to school all my days till I was grown. They
kep' me in school. My mother kep' me in till she died and then my
stepmother kep' me in. I got very near through the fifth grade. In my
day the fifth grade was pretty good. Wilson's Fifth Reader was a pretty
good book. They took me out of Wilson's Fifth Reader and put me in
McGuffy's and there's where I quit. Studied the Blue Back Speller.
"I've had some narrow escapes in my life. I had a shot right through
here in the breast bone--right over my heart. That was in ninety-six. Me
and another fellow was projectin with a gun.
"Then I had a bad accident on the ninth of March, 1914. A 800-foot log
came down on me. It near 'bout killed me. I was under a doctor 'bout six
or eight months. That's how come I'm crippled now. It broke my leg and
it's two inches shorter than the other one. I walked on crutches 'bout
five years. Got my jawbone broke too. Couldn't eat? I ain't never
stopped eatin'. Ain't no way to stop me from eatin' 'cept to not give it
to me.
"I compressed after I got my leg broke. And I was a noble good
bricklayer.
"I never have voted. Nobody ever pushed me up to it and I ain't never
been bothered 'bout anything like that. Everythin was a satisfaction to
me. Just whatever way they went was a satisfaction to me.
"I have never heard my folks give my white folks no 'down the hill'. My
daddy was brought from Charleston, South Carolina. He was a ship
carpenter. He did all of Payne's carpenter work from my baby days up.
"The last of the Paynes died since I came here to Arkansas. He was a
A. M. Payne, too.
"I can 'member the soldiers marchin' by. They wore yellow shirts and
navy blue coats. I know the coats had two little knobs right behind,
just the color of the coat.
"I don't know what to think of the younger generation. I don't know why
and what to think of 'em. Just don't know how to take 'em. Ain't comin'
like I did. Lay it to the parents. They have plenty of leaders outside
the family.
"I'm lookin' for a better time. God's got His time set for 'em on that.
"I belong to St. James Methodist Episcopal Church."
#737
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Marie E. Hervey
1520 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 62
"I have heard my father and mother talk over the War so many times. They
would talk about how the white people would do the colored and how the
Yankees would come in and tear up everything and take anything they
could get their hands on. They would tell how the colored people would
soon be free. My mama's white folks went out and hid when the Yankees
were coming through.
"My father's white people were named Taylor's--old Job Taylor's folks.
They lived in Tennessee.
"My mother said they had a block to put the colored people and their
children on and they would tell them to tell people what they could do
when the people asked them. It would just be a lot of lies. And some of
them wouldn't do it. One or two of the colored folks they would sell and
they would carry the others back. When they got them back they would
lock them up and they would have the overseers beat them, and bruise
them, and knock them 'round and say, 'Yes, you can't talk, huh? You
can't tell people what you can do?' But they got a beating for lying,
and they would uh got one if they hadn't lied, most likely.
"They used to take pregnant women and dig a hole in the ground and put
their stomachs in it and whip them. They tried to do my grandma that
way, but my grandpa got an ax and told them that if they did he would
kill them.
"They never could do anything with him.
"My mother's people were the Hess's. They were pretty good to her. It
was them that tried to whip my grandma though.
"You had to call everybody 'Mis'' and 'Mars' in those days. All the old
people did it right after slavery. They did it in my time. But we
children wouldn't. They sent me and my sister up to the house once to
get some meal. We said we weren't goin' to call them no 'Mars' and
'Mis'.' Two or three times we would get up to the house, and then we
would turn 'round and go back. We couldn't make up our minds how to get
what we was sent after without sayin' 'Mars' and 'Mis'.' Finally old man
Nick noticed us and said, 'What do you children want?' And we said,
'Grandma says she wants some meal.' When we got back, grandma wanted to
know why we took so long to go and come. We told her all about it.
"People back home still have those old ways. If they meet them on the
street, you got to get off and let them by. An old lady just here a few
years ago wouldn't get off the sidewalk and they went to her house and
beat her up that night. That is in Brownsville, Tennessee in Hayeard
[HW: Haywood] County. That's an old rebel place.
"White people were pretty good to the old colored folks right after the
War. The white folks were good to my grandfather. The Taylors were. They
would give him a hog or something every Christmas. All the old slaves
used to go to the big house every Christmas and they would give them a
present.
"My husband ran off from his white people. They was in Helena. That's
where he taken the boat. He and a man and two women crossed the river on
a plank. He pulled off his coat and got a plank and carried them across
to the other side. He was goin' to meet the soldiers. He had been told
that they were to come through there on the boat at four o'clock that
afternoon. The rebels had him and the others taking them some place to
keep them from fallin' into the hands of the Yankees, and they all ran
off and hid. They laid in water in the swamp all that night. Their
bosses were looking for them everywhere and the dogs bayed through the
forest, but they didn't find them. And they met some white folks that
told them the boat would come through there at four o'clock and the
white folks said, 'When it comes through, you run and get on it, and
when you do, you'll be free. You'll know when it's comin' by its blowin'
the whistle. You'll be safe then, 'cause they are Yankees.'
"And he caught it. He had to cross the river to get over into Helena to
the place where the boat would make its landin'. After that he got with
the Yankees and went to a whole lot of places. When he was mustered out,
they brought him back to Little Rock. The people were Burl Ishman and
two women who had their children with them. I forget the names of the
women. They followed my husband up when he ran off. My husband's first
name was Aaron.
"My husband had a place on his back I'll remember long as I live. It was
as long as your forearm. They had beat him and made it. He said they
used to beat niggers and then put salt and pepper into their wounds. I
used to tell daddy that 'You'll have to forget that if you want to go to
heaven.' I would be in the house working and daddy would be telling some
white person how they 'bused the slaves, and sometimes he would be
tellin' some colored person 'bout slavery.
"They sold him from his mother. They sold his mother and two children
and kept him. He went into the house crying and old mis' gave him some
biscuits and butter. You see, they didn't give them biscuits then. That
was the same as givin' him candy. She said, 'Old mis' goin' to give you
some good biscuits and some butter.' He never did hear from his mother
until after freedom. Some thought about him and wrote him a letter for
her. There was a man here who was from North Carolina and my husband got
to talking with him and he was going back and he knew my husband's
mother and his brother and he said he would write to my husband if my
husband would write him a letter and give it to him to give to his
mother. He did it and his mother sent him an answer. He would have gone
to see her but he didn't have money enough then. The bank broke and he
lost what little he had saved. He corresponded with her till he died.
But he never did get to see her any more.
"Nothin' slips up on me. I have a guide. I am warned of everything.
Nothin' happens to me that I don't know it before. Follow your first
mind. Conscience it is. It's a great thing to have a conscience.
"I was born in Tennessee. I have been in Arkansas about forty-six years.
I used to cook but I didn't do it long. I never have worked out much
only just my work in the house. My husband has been dead four years this
last April. He was a good man. We were married forty years the eleventh
of December and he died on the eighth of April."
MAY 11 1938
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Phillis Hicks
Edmondson, Arkansas
Age: 71
"My mother's owner was Master Priest Gates. He had a son in Memphis. I
seen him not long ago. He is an insurance agent. They was rosy rich
looking folks. Mama was a yellow woman. She had fourteen living
children. Her name was Harriett Gates. Papa named Shade Huggins. They
belong to different folks. They was announced married before the War and
they didn't have to remarry.
"She said the overseers was cruel to them. They had white men overseers.
She was a field hand. I heard her say she was so tired when she come to
the house she would take her baby in her arms to nurse and go to sleep
on the steps or under a tree and never woke till they would be going to
the field. She would get up and go on back. They et breakfast in the
field many and many a time. Old people cooked and took care of the
children. She never was sold. I don't know if my father was. They come
from Alabama to Mississippi and my mother had been brought from Georgia
to Alabama.
"She picked geese till her fingers would bleed to make feather beds for
old master I reckon. They picked geese jus' so often. The Gates had
several big quarters and lots of land. They come to be poor people after
the War--land poor. Mother left Gates after the War. They didn't get
nothing but good freedom as I ever heard of. My father was a shoemaker
at old age. He said he learned his trade in slavery times. He share
cropped and rented after freedom.
"I heard 'em say the Ku Klux kept 'em run in home at night. So much
stealing going on and it would be laid at the hands of the colored folks
if they didn't stay in place. Ku Klux made them work, said they would
starve and starve white folks too if they didn't work. They was share
cropping then, yes ma'am, all of them. I know that they said they had no
stock, no land, no rations, no houses to live in, their clothes was
thin. They said it was squally times in slavery and worse after freedom.
They wore the new clothes in winter. By summer they was wore thin and by
next winter they had made some more cloth to make more new clothes. They
wove one winter for the next winter. When they got to share croppin'
they had to keep a fire in the fireplace all night to warm by. The
clothes and beds was rags. Corn bread and meat was all they had to eat.
Maybe they had pumpkins, corn, and potatoes. They said it was squally
times.
"I got a place. I rented it out to save it. My brother rents it. I can't
hardly pay taxes. I'd like to get some help. I could sew if they would
let me on. I can see good. I'm going to chop cotton but it so long till
then.
"I washed and ironed in Memphis till washing went out of style. Prices
are so high now and cotton cheap. I'm counting on better times.
"Times is close. Young folks is like young folks always been. Some are
smart and some lazy. None don't look ahead. They don't think about
saving. Guess they don't know how to save. Right smart spends it
foolish. I'm a widow and done worked down."