Cora Horton is the first president of the Woman's Missionary Society
composed of the societies of the three Arkansas C. M. E. Conferences.
She has been president of the Annual Conference division of the Woman's
Home Missionary Society of the Little Rock Conference for about seven
years. She visits all meetings of the General Conference and the General
Board of the C. M. E. church as well as all connectional meetings of the
Little Rock Conference, and such meetings of the Arkansas and Southwest
Conferences as relate to the discharge of her duties as president of the
State Woman's Home Missionary Society organization.
She has been president of the N. C. Cleves Club of Bullock Temple
C. M. E. Church of Little Rock for seven years and is a most active
church worker as will be seen from this comment. In her worship she
represents the traditional Negro type, but she buys the current issue of
the C. M. E. Church Discipline and is well acquainted with its
provisions relating to her specific church work as well as to all
ordinary phases of church work and administration.
There is a lot of drama in her story of the mother who unwittingly
married her son.
There is an interesting sidelight on slavery separations in this
interview. Never had it occurred to me that imposters among Negroes
might seize upon the idea of missing relatives as the basis for a
confidence scheme.
There is also an interesting sidelight on C. M. E. Church history in the
naming of Jane Hunter as the woman who baked the first sacrament bread
at the organization of that Church in 1870.
Name of interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy
Person interviewed: Laura House
Russellville, Arkansas
Age: 75?
"No sir, I don't remember hearing my parents ever tell me just when I
was born, the year or the month, but it was sometime during the War. My
parents' master was named Mentor--spelled M-e-n-t-o-r. We come to Pope
County several years after the War, and I have lived here in
Russellville forty years and raised our family here. Father passed away
about fifteen years ago.
"Mother used to tell me that the master wasn't overly kind to them. I
remember she used to talk of some money being promised to them after
they were freed, but I don't know how much. But I do know that none was
ever paid to them.
"No sir, I cannot read or write.
"I have been a member of the A. M. E. Church ever since I was a little
girl."
NOTE: Mrs. House is very neat in her dress and general deportment, is
industrious, and keeps busy working here and there at odd jobs, but her
memory is very uncertain as to many important details about her
ancestry.
NOV 30 1936
Mrs. Mildred Thompson
Mrs. Carol Graham
El Dorado District
_Ex-Slave--Hoodoo--Haunted Houses_
Aunt _Pinkey Howard_, an old negress of slavery days, can't "comember" her
age but she must be about 85 or 86 years old as she was about fourteen
or fifteen when the war closed. In speaking of those days Aunt Pinkie
said:
"Oooh, chile, you ought to been there when Mr. Linktum come down to free
us. Policemen aint in it. You ought ter seen them big black bucks. Their
suits was so fine trimmed with them eagle buttons and they wuz gold too.
And their shoes shined so they hurt your eyes. I tell yo ah cant
comember my age but it's been a long time ago.
"My ole Marsa Holbrook lived at Hillsboro and he wuz a good marsta. I
never went hungry or wid out cloes in them days. Slavery days was good
old days. These days is hard days. Po' ole neeger caint git enough to
feed herself. Them days weuns made our cloth and growed our food and
never paid for it. Never did want for nothin' and Marster had heaps of
slaves. Use to bring them across Moro Bay and them neegers always
fighting and running off. They'd run off and go across Moro Bay trying
to get back home. Marsta neva went after em. Said: 'Let 'em go. Aint no
count no ways.'
"I wooden take $100 for living in slavery days and I member when they
all parted out. Mr. Linktum come down. Yasum, Mr. Abe Linktum and his
partner Horace Greeley, comed down. Lieutenants and 'Sarges' all comed.
And some big yaller buck niggers all dressed up fine. I served Mr.
Linktum myself wid my own hands. Yasum I did. I fetched cold water from
the spring on a waiter and I stood straight an held it out just like dis
in front of me. Yasum and his partner, Mr. Horace Greeley too. And them
big yaller buck niggers went in the kitchen where my mammy was cookin
and tole her: 'Git out er here nigger. You don have to wait on dese
white fokes no more.' Yasum dey did. And they done said: 'You aint got
no more marster and no more missus. Yo don' have to work here no more.'
But my mother said: 'I'se puttin old marster's victuals on to cook. Wait
till I gets em on.' An they tole her again that she didn't have no more
marster and no more missus. I tole my mammy to kick him down the step
but she said she was afeard he would shoot her. All I hates about them
'Sarges' and Lieutenants is they never did shave. Them days all wore
whiskers. I 'comember' when I was a little chap standin on the block
with my mammy and being sold. But Ah always had a good marster.
"Ah members standin on nuther block to cook. Tables wuz high to keep
nothin from draggin things off. Grandma Aiken learnt me to cook an I
stood on a block and made out biscuits with a spoon. Ah neber put my
scratchers in the dough in my life. And I could cook good too. Wuz
knowed as the drummers cook. Drummers would come through fum New Orleens
and et at ole marsters and bragged on my cookin and tried to git me ter
go wif them to New Orleans and cook fuh they wives.
"Mah fust name was Pinkie Dixon. I was married on ole mistesses front
gallery and mah name wuz Cook then. Next time ah married mah name wuz
Howard.
"Ah can count but not to member hit. Ah don' know the number of my
chilluns but ah kin name em. There's Alec, Henry, Winnie, Ellen, Mary,
Gola, Seebucky, Crawford, Sarah and Ruby. Seebucky wuz named fer Sears
and Roebuck. Cause at that time weuns ordered things fum them and
ordered Seebuckys clo'es fore she cum fum thar. That why we named 'er
that.
"Ah deednt git no book larnin. Ah larnt enough to keep out of devilment
and ah knowed how to cook. Now these fools aroun here don' know nothin.
They never did see Linktum or Horace Greeley. Ah wishes it wuz work time
agin but ah caint hold out now."
"Ah never gits hot nor cold lak yo does. Ah takes mah cold bath ever
mornin and ah feels good."
Thus old aunt Pinkey rambled on and on talking of this and that and
especially the good days--slavery days. She evidently thought that some
of the army officers were Lincoln and Greeley. She probably heard her
master or mistress talk about these men and got them confused with the
army officers who visited in the home.
_Old Marion Johnson_ was seven years old when the war closed. Is 79 now.
"Chillun let me tell you ah don want to go over what I done been over.
Not agin. In slavery days we had plenty to eat and plenty to wear but
since then Oh, Lordy. My old Mawster's name was Alex Anderson and he
lived in Jackson Parrish, Louisiana. Yuh say youh wants me to tell you
some tales about ole times, ghostes and the like. Well ah sure can if ah
gits started but somehow I jest don' seem wound up this mawnin.
"One time there was a man what had a house full of daughters and his
girl Janie wanted to git married. Her lover asked her father's
permission to wed. He said: 'Well Mr. have you got any objection to me
and your daughter Janie maryin'?' The old man didn't want the young one
to see how anxious he was to get rid of his daughter so he said: 'You
wantin to marry my daughter, Janie? Janie don't want ter git married.'
The girl was behind the door listening and when her father said that she
spoke up and said: 'Yes I do pappa, bad.' The young man said: 'See there
now we both wants to git married.' The ole man spoke then and said:
'Well, damn you, dash you take her.'
"You know what the clocks says? The big old mantle clocks we used to
have ticked along real slow and they said: 'Take your time. Take your
time. Take your time.' The little alarm clocks of today say: 'Get
together. Get together. Get together.' And that is jes like the young
folks. When I was young the young folks them days young folks took their
time and went together a long time and they married they stayed married.
The young folks today rush around and get married in a week and fust
thing you knows they is done duvoced and married agin. They is jest as
diffunt as the clocks is diffunt.
"You knows if you makes up yo mind to do somethin and asks the Lord to
help you he will. I was comin along that path in June 12 years ago. I
chewed Brown Mule tobacco and wanted a chaw. I had been plowing all day
and when I pulled the tobacco outen my pocket it was wet where I had
sweated on hit and the outer leaves wuz all curled up so I said 'Lord
help me' and throwed it out in the weeds and havn't taken a chew since.
"Youns notice how the younguns cuss this day. The womens too. In the
olden days the women didn't cuss out loud but they did 'wooden cussin.'
Now I bet you girls is done wooden cussin lots o times. Loose your
temper and want to say things and don't dare so you slams chairs around
on the floor when you is movin them to sweep. That is wooden cussin.
"You says you is interested in buried treasure? Well near Strong where
the CCC Camp is was a place of buried treasure. Madam Hartline and three
other white folks and myself went down there in a car. With a finding
rod (divining rod) we located the treasure. Then I took this here
proving rod you sees here and drove it down in the groun till hit struck
somethin hard. A voice from somewhere said: 'What you all doing here?
What you after?' Ever body lit a shuck to the car and nobody ever did go
back to see about the treasure. You says why did I run? Dese feets wuz
made to take care of this body and I used em is all.
"When ah was a young man and livin down in Louisiana below Farmerville
ah went with a bunch of white fellows to dig fer buried gold. They
didn't begin diggin until after dark. Six men were on guard. We dug by a
light made by a big pine torch. Dug and dug and dug. Finally we struck
hit. Got hit all uncovered and sure nuff there hit was. Jest then the
torch blew out and we heard the quarest noises and ever' body run to
camp. Hit jest poured down rain that night and the next mornin, we went
back to get the money and hit was gone.
"And you says you is interested in spooks and ghosties. Down in
Louisiana Dr. Fred Hodge (white) had me to hitch up his buggy and go
with him on my horse to make a call many miles away from home one night.
Hit must have ben bout nineteen miles. I was ter go on some other place
with him but the patient was so bad that he had ter stay and sent me on
in the buggy an kept my horse to ride back. I was glad to git the buggy
sos I could take my gal for a ride. The doctor stayed till bout four
o'clock in the mornin. He had to go home by a graveyard. There was a big
white oak tree growin by the side of the road and when the doctor passed
there every limb fell off the tree and left the naked tree standin
there. The doctor rode back to the house where he had been and he rode
so fast that the horse was winded when he got there. The man went on
back with him and there stood the tree just as hit was before ever a
limb fell ofn it.
"Nother man I knew went to town on horseback and bought a bolt of
domestic for his wife and tied it on the back of his saddle. He had to
pass a cemetery. Jest as he passed he noticed a flapping sound and
looked back to see sumpin white wavin behind. He whipped his horse and
made him run and the faster he ran the more the flapping sounded and it
got longer and longer behind him. At last he got home and found that the
domestic had got unwrapped and was flappin in the wind. The man was
plumb weak and the horse died he had run him so hard.
"An talk of hainted houses. This here one that ahm livin in is hainted.
Frank Thompson a yaller nigger died here before me and mah wife moved
here. Before mah wife died, weuns would hear things and mah wife said
hit was Frank Thompson come back. We would be in bed and would hear
fokes walkin aroun and the door would come unlatched and come open. Mah
wife would say that hit wes Frank Thompson's sperit come back and as
soon as he got through ramblin aroun she would git up and bolt the door
agin. One Satiday night me and her went to town. On our way back as we
wuz comin acrost that little ditch out thar she said to me step aside
Marion and let Frank Thompson pass. Don' you see him comin? And we
stepped aside an she said he passed and we come on home. Ah hears him
now at times walkin aroun and goin in and out the doors but ah aint
never done seen him like she has.
"Now ah'll tell you about a curious happenin'. One time down in
Louisiana a brown skin girl died. When they started to the graveyard
with her the sun was shinin as purty as hit is right now they lowered
the coffin in the grave and it 'come-inced' to rain hard and ever'body
run in the church and stayed till it quit raining. The rain stood in
holes and puddles and ever'body expected the grave to be full but when
we went out there was not a bit of water in the grave. How come if it
wasn't hoodooed?
"Ah jes aint wound up right this mawnin to tell youns what you wants to
know but if you all will come back ahm sure ah can member some more ah
knows."
And Uncle Marion kept working with the chair in which he was weaving a
new bottom of white-oak splits. Before we left he showed us baskets that
he had woven.
Old _Della Benton_ can neither read nor write and doesn't know
her age she must be near seventy. Della was my washwoman several years
ago and I remembered hearing her tell something about hoodoes
so we went to see Della to get all we could about it.
"Honey don' you know that if you make a hole in a tree and put a hair
from the head of the person you want to hoodoo in the tree and seal it
up in there the person will go crazy. Yas mam and ifn you puts pins and
needles in with the hair before you seals the hole they will die. Why my
neighbor _Angelina Thompson_ was hoodood by a woman and Ah'll jest take
you all ovah and let her tell you for herself.
"And ifn you all wants to drive somebody away fum home sos they'll nevah
come back take one of their hairs and put hit in a steam of runnin water
so hit'll run off and they will leave home and nevah come back.
"An somebody can git your track and run you slam crazy. Yasum they kin
too. Where you steps in the clay or mud they gits hit and takes hit up
with sumpin and does things to you and you goes crazy.
"Now you chillun come with me ovah to Sister Thompson's and she kin tell
you fer herself what was done done to her when she wuz hoodooed."
We went to a nearby house and Della called Angelina out. She told us
that she was truly hoodoed and what she said was as follows:
"Sister Thompson tell these ladies about bein hoodooed. Oh they is
alright. This is some of my white folks I used to work fuh long time
ago."
Then Angelina told the following:
"Yasum, I sholey wuz hoodooed. How hit come about I loaned my clothes to
a woman. A dress and shoes. She put something on them that looked like
snuff. It was brown lookin and I jes though she had spilled snuff on em.
That wuz 18 years ago and she done hit outa jealousy. She wanted my ole
man and she thought she would hoodoo me and ahd die and she'd get him.
And she woulda too ifn hit hadn a been for Mother Dye. You all know
she's a doodoo doctor who lived at Newport. An I went to her fer bout
two years and she cured me. Mother Dye is daid now but Jess Rogers, a
man thar does the docterin now.
"You all ask how hit fected me when ah was hoodooed. I tole you bout the
brown stuff bein in my shoes and on mah dress. Well ah put em on and in
a little while mah feet itched lak an could claw the bones out. Ah nevah
was in such misery. Then ah tuk somethin like the dry rot. The meat
come off my fingers and toes. Jest look at them scars. And look at these
scars in mah hair. See how mah haid is all scarred up. At times ah had a
mind that ah wanted to go and didn' know where. They had to watch me all
the time. But ole Mother Dye cured me and that woman didn' git mah ole
man aftah all."
Della and Angelina talked among themselves for a moment and Della said
"Ah believe ah will." Then she said: "Does you all know Phil Green? He
lives about two miles and a half down the Junction City Highway and he
is a hoodoo man. He can tell you all things efn you all cares to go ahll
go with you. He can tell you what is gwianter happen and what has
happened and he can hoodoo." Of course we were in for going right then
while we had a car so Della crawled in the back seat and we were away to
Phil Green's. Went out the highway about two miles and turned off on a
country road. Up hill and down, around this field and that and through a
big gate, winding around through a field and orchard. At last we
arrived. _Phil Green_ looked to be a prosperous farmer. We drove up to the
back of the house and around front. Some negro had just killed a chicken
for dinner. Several cars were parked in the yard. One bore a Louisiana
license. The porch was full of negroes. Della called and asked if Phil
was there. They replied that he was but that he was busy. Della said,
"We wants to see him" and a black negro woman came out to the car. My,
but she was furious. We had never seen a negro so angry before. The
first thing she did was to tell us that they didn't serve white people
but the way she expressed it was a scream she said: "We don' use white
people. No suh! We don' use em. Hits too dangerous. Ah don't care who
tole you Phil used white people. He don'. He is may husban and ah won't
let him."
We soon pacified her by telling her that we appreciated her point of
view and that it was perfectly alright with us. Della crawled out of the
car right now and said: "You all knows the way back to town don' you?
Ah's going ter stay."
The next morning we went back to Della's. She told us that the people on
Phil's front porch were from Marion Louisiana and they had come to get
him to tell them how to get one of the men of the family out of the
penitentiary. She apologized for taking us out there and declared that
she believed that he once served white people.
Aunt _Dilcie Raborn_ and all her family declared that she would be a
hundred this August. She is an ex-slave and Mr. John Wright of Louisiana
was her master.
"Yas'm chillun I'se a hunnerd years ole. Ah was one of the las' young
niggers on marster's plantation. Mah job was nusin the chillun. Ole
Marster's father was livin in them days and he fought in the Resolution
War. Yasum he did. He was rail old and my mother chawed fer him jes like
she did fer her baby. I'se seen more hardness since I got old than ah
ever did in mah life. Slavery wuz the easiest time of all. Mah muthas
name was Charity and she wuz the family cook, yasum an ah wuz the nuss
girl. I tuk care of the chilluns. Ole marster's wife lost her mind and
they had to watch her all the time. Did you ask they send her to the
sylum? No man Thar warn't no sylums in them days and anyway ole marster
had plenty of niggers to wait on her and take care of her and watch her
sos she wouldn't git out and git hurt. She did slip out one time and ah
was totin the flour from mill from the gate to the kitchen and she
grabbed hit away fum me and throwed hit all ovah me and rubbed hit in
mah face good and then laughed at me. Then she run and got in the creek
and set down in the watah and the niggas had to git in thar and git her
out. Hit made her sick and old marster sho did git them niggers fer
lettin her git out.
"I sho wish all times could be slavery times. Ah had everything nice
then.
"I had some chillun. Ah cant count em but ah can name em. Joe, Habe,
Abram, Billy, Johnny, Charity and Caline. Ah makes mah home here with
Charity, she is mah baby chile and she is fifty.
"You asks is ah afeard of haints? Ah'v never taken no frightment off'n
em. Ah'v lived in houses other folks couldn't live in but ah'v never
lived that way that I had to run from haints.
"Ah lived jes like a millionaire when ah lived in slavery times, seed
more hardness since I got old than I ever did in mah life."
Then we left aunt Dilcie with her snuff and went to find _Aunt
Jane Carter_.
After rambling around in Rock Island quarters we at last found Jane
Carter. She was living with her grand daughter and was sitting out in
the yard with a bunch of her great-grand-children. She was so deaf that
we were not able to talk to her, much to our disappointment. The
granddaughter told us that she was 106 years old and that Mrs. Roscoe
Taunton's granfather was Jane's old master.
We later saw Mrs. Taunton and she told us that Jane had belonged to her
grandfather Stephen Manning and was her mother's nurse. Jane was grown
when Mrs. Taunton's mother was born.
We were told about _old Bill_ who lives in Barton Quarters and went to
find her. She was sitting out on the porch of her cabin and we sat on
the edge of the porch much to the dismay of Bill who could not walk
because of a sore foot which she told us was caused by the bite of a
rattlesnake years ago in slavery time.
"Ah don' want mah white folks to sit on the floo'. Honey go in dah and
git dat sheet and spred hit on the floo'. Ole Bill would go herself efn
she could walk. Honey you all is gwianter git blistered out in de sun
like you is widout no hats on. Don you all know you had orter take keer
of thet purty white skin of yourn? My ole missus never would git
out in the sun widout somethin on her haid. Ole Mawster thought she was
purty and she aimed to stay purty.
"You all says you wants ter heah ole Bill tell about slavery days, lawsy
chillun Ah pray ter God ah'll be with mah white chillun agin and play
mah harp with em. We'll have plenty to eat and plenty to wear jes as we
did when we had our good mawster in slavery days. Marster's grown son
used to say: 'Bill she's ruint to death.' Why I used ter git my young
mistesses dresses and put em on and git out in the yard and flounce and
flip. The young mistess would scole me but young marster would say
'Leave Bill erlone, ah lack to see her dance. Dance some moah Bill.' Mah
white folks use ter teach me. Now when white folks taugh me ahm a nigger
done taughted.
"Honey ah jes don' like ter see mah white folks sit on the floo' ah
wishes ole Bill cud foch some cheers fer yo all ter set on.
"How ole is ah? Ah jes don' member but ah's powerful ole.
"Yas'm ah' wuz nurse girl for marsters chillun. I nevah had ter wuk hard
a tall, all ah had ter do was play wid the chillun and take keer of em.
Oncet a circus show comed thru and mawster bought a rattle snake fum em
fer a pet. Hit nevah did have hits teeth pulled (fangs). Hit wuz a plum
pet too, allus followin us about. We would have to knock hit back outn
de way sometimes. One time ah wuz comin down de stairs wid a chile in
each arm and de snake wuz crawlin erlong sides me. Jest as we got ter
the bottom hit crawled roun front of me and ah didn see hit cause of
havin the chillun in mah arms and ah stepped slambang on that snake an
hit turnt aroun and bit mah foot. Ah nevah drapped them chillun though.
My ole man said ifn hit had been him he'd a throwd them chillun down and
run but not ole Bill. Marster and Mistess trusted Bill to take keer of
them chillun and ole Bill sho did take keer of em. But mah foot nigh
bout kilt me and thet foot is whut is the mattah wid me terday.
"You ask haint ah got no folks? No'm. Ah nevah had but one youngun and
hit died wid the croup. The man next doo' owns this heah house and lets
ole Bill live heah. The guvment lady send me a check ever' month
(pension) and Joe Lyons gits hit and fetches hit out ter me.
"You ask does ah know erbout any hainted houses? No'm when ah fin's a
house is hainted ah aint gwian in. No'm not ole Bill. But sumpin
happened not long ergo that give me a big fright. Hit waz long bout dusk
ah seed two women, white as anybody gwian down de road and when they got
along thar they quit the road and come aroun the path. Ah said: 'Howdy'
and they never even speak jus kep' a goin'. Ah say: 'Whar is you all a
goin' and they nevah say a word. Then ah say to em: 'Won't you
all come by and set with ole Bill a while.' An still they nevah say
nothin. Jus kep' on a goin' roun' that house and down the road. Then ah
got skeered and went in the house an ah doan set out late no moah. Efn
them ghost had uh come in th house ah would a gone undah the house.
"You all chillun ain goin is you? Come back ter see ole Bill. Ah sholey
hates to have mah white folks sit on the floor but mebby ole Bill's foot
will be bettuh next time an she can git her white fokes some cheers."
Aunt _Sally Fields_ said to be 106 years old lived in Mack Quarters about
two and a half or three miles south of El Dorado. She is blind and
lives with Hattie Moseley. During slavery days she belonged to the
Patterson family and came with them from Alabama to Louisiana and later
to Caledonia where she was living at the close of the Civil War. Her
mind was wandering to such an extent that we could not get very much
from her and when asked about slavery times she said:
"Slavery time is gone. The stars are passed. The white folks that raised
me said: 'I want you all to get up in the morning and tell me about the
stars.' Oh Lordy! The stars fell. Ole Missus would come say: 'Ah want to
be standing up behind the door. Ah don' want to be buried.' My ole
missus was good to all the niggers.
"There was a big spring on marsters plantation. When we would start to
the spring mistress would say: 'Don't go on the left hand side of the
spring, go up the right hand side to the chinquapin tree.'"
It took Sally about twenty minutes to say that much so we didn't stay
longer.
Interviewer: Carol Graham
Person Interviewed: Pinkie Howard (Add)
El Dorado, Ark.
Age: ?
"Mornin', honey! Here you is to see Aunt Pinkie again. What did you
bring me? Didn't you bring old Aunt Pinkie somethin' good to eat?
"Lawsy, honey, its been so long I can't member much bout plantation
days. But I members the children on the plantation would ring up and
play ring games. And we used to have the best things to eat back in them
days. We used to take taters and grate them and make tater pudding. Made
it in ovens. Made corn bread and light bread in ovens too and I used to
bake the best biscuits anybody ever et and I didn't put my scratchers in
them neither. Old Miss taught me how. And we had lasses pone corn bread
and them good old tater biscuits. We used to eat parched corn, and
cornmeal dumplings was all the go back there.
"I worked all my life and hard, too, but I still is a pretty good old
frame.
"He! He! He! Look at that black boy passing, will you? Them brichie legs
is half way his thighs. He needs to put sugar in his shoes to sweet talk
his brichie legs down. And did you notice he didn't speak to old Aunt
Pinkie. Young folks ain't got no manners these days. Now when I was
young back there on that plantation at Hillsboro old Miss Aiken taught
all her niggers manners. She would say to us, 'Now, you all don' clean
your noses, or years, or fingernails before folks; it's ill manners.
And don' make no 'marks bout folks. Don' eat onions and go out in
company, if you does, eat coffee to kill the taste. Don't talk with yo'
mouth full of sumpin' to eat; that ill manners too. Don' eat too fast
cause you is liable to git strangled. And don' wear yo' welcome out by
staying too long.'
"Ain't it warm and nice today missy? Jus like a spring day. An see that
bee after my flower? Wasn't it a bee? You know, bees used to swarm in
the springtime back on the plantation. The way they would catch em was
to ring a bell or beat on a old plow and keep beatin' and ringin' till
they settled on a tree limb. Then they made a bee gum and covered it and
left a hole at the bottom of the gum for them to go in and out, then
they sawed the limb off and put the bees in the gum and put some
sweetened water made from molasses so they can start to makin' honey.
Sometimes the bees would sting some of us and we would put a little
snuff on it and cure it right up."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Josephine Howell
Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: 72
"My mother was Rebecca Jones. She was born in Nashville, Tennessee.
Grandma was a cook and a breeding woman. The Jones thought she was very
valuable. They prized her high. She was the mother of twenty-one
children. Mother was more than half Indian. She was bright color. The
Jones wanted to keep her, thought she would be a fine cook and house
woman and a fine breeder. She had such a terrible temper they sold her
to McAlways, some of their relations close to Augusta, Arkansas.
"Mama said she was eight years old when Gabe McAlway come to Nashville,
Tennessee and got her. He bought her. He was a young man and a
saloon-keeper at Augusta, Arkansas. He put her out on the farm at his
father's. She was a field hand. She was part African and a whole lot
Indian. She was fractious and high tempered. The old man McAlway and the
overseers would drop her clothes down in the field before all the hands
and whoop her. Gabe never even slapped her. His aunt Mrs. Jones didn't
want them to put her in the field. She wanted to keep her but couldn't
she was so fractious, and she didn't know how bad old man treated her.
"When mother was sold she was brought from twenty brothers and her
mother and never saw none of them no more. She left them at Wolf River.
They took the boat. Wolf River is close to Memphis. They must have
brought them that far but I don't know. This is what all she told me
minua and minua time. Her own papa bought her when she was eight years
old, Gabe McAlway. When she got to be a young maid he forced motherhood
up on her. I was born before freedom. How old I am I don't know. Gabe
McAlway was sort of a young bachelor. He got killed in the Civil War. He
was a Scotch-Irishman. I never seen my father.
"Mother married then and had five children. She lived in the back yard
of Mrs. Will Thompson. Dr. Goodridge stopped her from having children,
she raved wild. She had such a bad fractious temper. She suckled both
Mrs. Will Thompson's children, old man Nathan McGreggor's grandchildren.
She lived in Mrs. Thompson's back yard but she slept in their house to
help with the babies.
"Judge Milwee's wife and auntie, Mrs. Baxter, raised me from a baby
(infant). Judge Milwee was in Brinkley but he moved to Little Rock. Them
is my own dear white folks. Honey, I can't help but love them, they part
of me. They raised me. They learned me how to do everything.
"My son live with me and I raising my little great-grandson. We can't
throw him away. My baby's mother is way off in St. Louis. He is three
years old.
"Mother never talked much about slavery other than I have told you. She
said during of the War women split and sawed rails and laid fences all
winter like men. Food got scarce. They sent milk to the soldiers. Meat
was scarce. After she was free she went on like she had been living at
John McAlway's. She said she didn't know how to start doing for herself.
"Some of our young generation is all right and some of them is too
thoughtless. Times is too fast. Folks is shortening their days by fast
living. Hurting their own bodies. Forty years ago folks lived like we
ought to be living now."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Pauline Howell Nickname Pearl
Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: 65 or 70?
"I was born in Paris, Tennessee and come to Arkansas when I was a child.
I don't know how old I am but my mama knowed 'bout when I was born. It
warnt long after the war. I past sixty-five and it is nearer seventy
from what she said. She ain't been dead long. She was about a hundred
years old. I. C. switch killed her. She was going cross there to Fisher
Body and the switch engine struck her head. She dropped something and
stooped to pick it up or the engine wouldn't touched her. She lived in
Memphis.
"She was born at Oaks, Tennessee. She took me down to see the cabin
locks where she was born. They had rotted down and somebody lived in the
big house. It had gone to rack then pretty bad. My father's master was
George Harris. He was Governor of Tennessee. My mother's mistress at
Oaks was Miss Ann LaGuion (or maybe Gwion). I never heard her husband's
name. They had several farms and on each farm was the cabin locks
(little houses all in a row or two rows). The houses was exactly alike.
Grandma cooked for the white folks and mama nursed. The baby was a big
fat heavy sort, a boy, and it was so heavy she couldn't hardly pick it
up. She had to carry it around all day long. When night come she was
wore out. There was several of them. When she go to their houses in
Memphis they honor her. They take her down town and buy her shoes and
dresses. Buy her whatever she say she want. They say they was proud of
her. She was a little black guinea woman (low and stocky). Not long go
Mr. (_white man_) in Brinkley asked me when my ma coming back here. Said
he ain't seed her for so long. I tole him she was dead. He said he have
to go tell Mrs. ____ (his wife). She come out here and stay and piece
quilts. She sewed so nice. Made pretty little stitches. She'd take the
most time and pains fixing the pieces together to look pretty. She'd set
there and sew and me over there and tell me bout how she was raised and
I'd cry. Cry cause she had so hard a time when she was a girl.
"The old master sent my father to Liverpool, England to bury his money.
He was his own son anyhow. Sent him with his money to keep the Yankees
from taking it. My aunt, my father and Uncle Jesse all his own children.
Course old mistress love them little children like her own. She couldn't
help herself.
"Mariah Steed went in Governor Harrises name after freedom. So did
Randall Travis Harris.
"My mama said she was never sold but her sister and her children were.
She was put upon the auction stile and all her little children. A man in
Mobile, Alabama bought her. They never did see nor hear tell of her no
more. The reason they sold her was she killed two men overseers. They
couldn't manage her. The last one was whipping her with a black snake
whip and she grabbed him. Grabbed his privates and pulled 'em out by the
roots. That the way she killed both the overseers. Cause she knowed that
was show death. My mama said that was the nicest little soft man--the
last man she killed. She said he just clum the walls in so much misery
that night.
"She said they would whisper after they go to bed. They used pine
torches for lights. They had to cover up the fire--cover up fire in the
ashes so it be coals to kindle a fire in the morning--put out the light
pretty early. Old master come stand round outside see if they all gone
to bed.
"When freedom--my mama said old master called all of 'em to his house
and he said: 'You all free, we ain't got nothing to do wid you no more.
Go on away. We don't whoop you no more, go on your way.' My mama said
they go on off then they come back and stand around jess lookin' at him
an' old mistress. They give 'em something to eat and he say: 'Go on
away, you don't belong to us no more you been freed.'
"They go way and they kept coming back. They didn't have no place to go
and nothing to eat. From what she said they had a terrible time. She
said it was bad times. Some took sick and had no 'tention and died.
Seemed like it was four or five years before they got to places they
could live. They all got scattered.
"She said they did expect something from freedom but the only thing old
master give Jesse was a horse and bridle and saddle. It was new. Old
master every time they go back say: 'You all go on away. You been set
free. You have to look out for your selves now.'
"The only way I know this is I remembers from hearin' my dear old mama
tell me when she come here to see me. I was too little. I guess I wasn't
born till two or three years, maybe longer than that, after freedom.
"After my son died here I get $2.50 a month, just my house rent. I work
out when I can get something to do. Work is so scarce I hardly get a
living.
"If you could see my brother in Little Rock he could tell you a heap he
remembers. He is white headed, keeps his hair cut close and goes dressed
up all the time. They say he is a good old man. He does public work in
Little Rock. Henry Travis is his son. His phone is 4-5353. His street is
3106 Arch. My brother is really born a slave, I ain't. Ask for E. K.
Travis, that is his name. He can tell you bout all you want to know."
JAN 29 1938
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Molly Hudgens
DeValls Bluff, Arkansas
Age: Born in 1868
"I was born in Clarendon in 1868. My mother was sold to Judge Allen at
Bihalia, N. C. and brought to Arkansas. The Cunninghams brought father
from Tennessee when they moved to this State. His mother died when he
was three months old and the white mistress had a baby three weeks older
en him so she raised my father. She nursed him with Gus Cunningham. My
father had us call them Grandma, Aunt Indiana, and Aunt Imogene.
"When I was seven or eight years old I went to see them at Roe. When I
first come to know how things was, father had bought a place--home and
piece of land west of Clarendon and across the river. I don't know if
the Cunninghams ever give him some land or a mule or cow or not. He
never said. His owner was Moster John Henry Cunningham.
"My father was a medium light man but not as light as I am. My mother
was lighter than I am. I heard her say her mother did the sewing for all
on her owner's place in North Carolina. My mother was a house girl. The
reason she was put up to be sold she was hired out and they put her in
the field to work. A dispute rose over her some way so her owner sold
her when she was eighteen years old. Her mother was crying and begging
them not to sell her but it didn't do no good she said. After the war
was over she got somebody to write back and ask about her people. She
got word about her sister and aunt and uncle. She never seen none of
them after she was sold. Never did see a one of her people again. She
was sold to Judge Allen for a house girl. His wife was dead. My mother
sewed at Judge Allen's and raised two little colored children he bought
somewhere cheap. He had a nephew that lived with him.
"Mr. Felix Allen and some other of his kin folks, one of them made me
call him 'Tuscumby Bob.' I said it funny and they would laugh at me.
Judge Allen went to Memphis and come home and took smallpox and died. I
heard my mother say she seen him crying, sitting out under a tree. He
said he recken he would give smallpox to all the colored folks on his
place. Some of them took smallpox.
"We have been good living colored folks, had a right smart. I farmed,
cooked, sewed a little along. I washed. I been living in DeValls Bluff
38 years. I got down and they put me on the relief. Seems I can't get
back to going agin.
"Don't get me started on this young generation. I don't want to start
talking about how they do. Times is right smartly changed somehow.
Everybody is in a hurry to do something and it turns out they don't do
nuthin'. Times is all in a stir it seem like to me.
"I don't vote. I get $8 and demodities and I make the rest of my
keepin'."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Charlie Huff
Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: Born 1864
"I was born close to Charlotte, North Carolina. Alex Huff owned my
parents and me. My pa was a dark man. He was named Alex Huff too. Ma was
named Sarah Huff. She was ginger cake color they called it. Both her
parents was part Creek Indian. I seen the block at Richmond, Virginia
where they sold pa. They kept him three weeks away from me before he was
sold. They sold him at the last of slavery for $1,500. Ma never seen him
no more. After freedom she brought me and immigrated to Arkansas. My
sister wouldn't come, she was fixing to marry. We come on the train,
paid our own way. We heard it was a fine country and ma heard somebody
out here bought pa. We kept inquiring till after she died. I heard where
he was. I went to see him. He told me what I told you. He was sold and
brought to Louisiana. He was a cross-eyed man and named Alex the best
way I found him. My ma never was sold as she remembered.
"Master Alex Huff owned a turpentine factory and pa worked at it. Ma
washed and cooked. Master Alex Huff raised Palmer Christy beans. I think
he sold the seed to keep moles out of the land. Moles was bad in new
cleared land. When they found a mole hill they opened it and put in a
few beans so the mole would eat them and die. He sold the beans.
"The Ku Klux never bothered us.
"We come to Arkansas as soon as we could after freedom. We wanted to
find pa. When we first come I worked on a steamboat, then I mined at
Pratt City, Tennessee--coal mines--a year and a half. Then for
forty-five years I worked on the railroad section as a hand. I made two
crops in all my life. The first year I did fine and not so bad the next.
But since three years ago I had these two strokes. I am here and not
able to work. My wife draws $12 from the Welfare Order.
"It has been a long time since I voted. I voted last time for President
McKinley. I didn't like the strict franchise laws."
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Louvenia Huff
Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: 64
"I was born third year after the surrender. There was thirteen children
in my family when I was a child. We was different sizes and the grown
children helped look after the little ones. My parents was field hands.
My parents belong to Dr. Hatch. He lived in Aberdeen, Mississippi. We
lived in the country on his place. He had five or six children. Ben and
Needham come out to the farm. He was an old man and we stayed on the
son's place--same place--till I come to Arkansas. We come in 1885. We
heard it was a better country and open stock range. Dr. Hatch was very
good to my folks.
"I don't think the Ku Klux bothered my folks but we was afraid of them.
"My father voted a Republican ticket. I never voted.
"My grandmother was real light skin. Mother was mixed with white. She
told us she was sold away from her mother when she was a little bitter
of a girl and never seen her no more till she was the mother of six
children. They didn't know one another when they met. Her mother knowed
who bought her and after freedom she kept asking about her and finally
heard where she was and come to her. There was no selling place at
Aberdeen so I don't know where she was bought. Dr. Hatch lived to be an
old man. He owned a lot of slaves and lots of land.
"Father's old master was Whitfield. He sold him to Dr. Hatch when he was
a young man. Father was a driver in the Civil War. He hauled soldiers
and dumped them in the river. The Union soldiers wouldn't give them time
to bury the other side. He took rations all but the times he hauled dead
soldiers. He got shot in his arm above the wrist. He died before they
give him a pension. He was a Union soldier. He talked a lot but that is
all I can tell straight. I don't know if he mustered out or not.
"I worked in the field, wash, iron, and cooked. We get $12 from the
Welfare. My husband had two strokes. He has been sick three years.
"My parents' name Simpson Hatch and Jacob Hatch. They had thirteen
children."
Interviewer: Mary D. Hudgins
Person Interviewed: Mrs. Anna Huggins
Home: Pleasant at John Street.
"Miss Huggins? (pronounced hew--gins) Yes, ma'am she lives here. Oh Miss
Huggins, Miss Huggins. They's somebody to see you."
The interviewer had approached an open door of an "L" kitchen attached
to a "shot gun house". Thru the dining room and a bed room she was
conducted to the front bedroom. This was furnished simply but with a
good deal of elaboration. The bed was gay with brightly colored pillows.
Most of them had petal pillow tops made from brilliant crepe paper
touched with silver and guilt. The room was evidently not occupied by
Mrs. Huggins herself for late in the interview a colored girl entered
the room. "Do you want your room now?" Mrs. Huggins inquired. "No
indeed, there's lots of time," the girl replied politely. But the
interviewer managed to terminate the interview quickly.
"So you knew Fanny McCarty. Well, well, so you knew Fanny. I don't know
when I've heard anybody speak about her. She's not so much on looks, but
Fanny is a good little woman, a mighty good little woman. She's up in
Michigan. You know she worked at one of the big hotels here--the Eastman
it was. When they closed in the summer they sent her up to the big hotel
on Mackinac. For a while she was here in the winter and up there for the
summer season. Then she stayed on up there.
"You say she worked for you when you were a little girl? Before the fire
of 1913? Now, I remember, you were just a little girl and you used to
come over to my house sometimes with her. I remember." (A delighted
smile.) "Now I remember.
"No, I don't remember very much about the war. It is mostly what I heard
the older ones say. My grandmother used to tell me a lot about it. I was
just a little thing in my mother's arms when the war was over. Guess I
was about four years old. We lived in St. Francis County and as soon as
we were free pappa sent for us. He sent for us to come by boat to where
he was. We went to Helena. I remember they were all lined up--the
colored soldiers were. But I knew pappa. They all wondered how, hadn't
seen him in a long time. But I picked him out of all the line of men and
I said, 'There's my pappa.' Yes, my pappa was a soldier in the war. He
was gone from home most of the time. I only saw him once in a while.
"My grandmother told me lots of things about slavery. She was born a free
girl. But when she was just a little girl somebody stole her and brought
her to Arkansas and sold her. No, from the things they told
me--especially grandmother--they weren't very good to them. Lots of
times I've gone down on my knees to my grandmother to hear her tell
about how mean they were to them.
"I'd say to her, 'Grandmother, why didn't you fight back?' 'You couldn't
fight back,' she said, 'you just had to take it.' 'I wouldn't,' I said,
'I wouldn't take it.' Guess there's too much Indian blood in me. A white
person never struck me but once. I was a girl--not so very big and I was
taking care of a white lady's little girl. She and a friend of hers were
talking and I sneaked up to the door and tried to listen to what they
were saying. She caught me and she scolded me--she struck at me with her
fan--it was just a light tap, but it made me mad. I fought her and I ran
off home, she came to get me too. I never would have gone back
otherways. She said she never did see a girl better with children.
"I remember my grandmother telling about once when she was cooking in the
kitchen, her back was turned and an old hound dog got in and started to
take the chicken which was on the table. He had even got part of it in
his mouth. But she turned and saw him--she choked the dog--and choked
him until she choked the chicken out of him. You can see she must have
been pretty scared to be afraid to let them know the chicken had been
tampered with. Then we always thought my mother's death was caused by
her being beat by an overseer--she caused that overseer's death, she got
him while he was beating her. They had to hide her out to save her
life--but a long time afterwards she died--we always laid it to that
hard beating.
"We lived in Helena after the war. My father was the marrying kind. He
was a wild marrying man. He had lots of wives. But Mother and
grandmother wouldn't let us call them Mother--she made us call them
Aunt. It really was my grandmother who reared me. She was a good cook,
had good jobs all the time.
"When I grew up I married. Mr. Huggins was a bar tender in a saloon. He
made good money. We had a good home and I took care of the home. I had
it mighty easy. Then one day he fell in the floor paralyzed. I brought
him to Hot Springs. That was back in 1905. We stayed on and he lived for
18 years.
"I got a house there and I kept roomers. That was where Fanny stayed with
me. It was at 311 Pleasant. You remember the place, tho. When I was
young, I had it easy. But now I'm old and I don't have it so well. A few
years ago I was out in California on a visit. There was a man shining up
to me and I wrote my niece 'What would you think if your aunty married?'
'Law,' she wrote back to me, 'you've lived by yourself so long now, you
couldn't stand a man.' Maybe she was right."
(At this point the girl passed into the room.) "Look Maggie! three
pretty handkerchiefs. Miss Hudgins brought them. And I was just writing
to my sister--my half sister today, I didn't even expect to much as a
handkerchief for Christmas. And my initials embroidered on them two. One
with A on it and two with H. I'm really proud of them.
"I'm going to write to Fanny to tell her about your coming to see me.
She'll be so glad to know about you. I'll tell her about the
handkerchiefs. You know, for a while Fanny had it pretty hard while she
was here. She stayed at my house and I kept her for a long time without
pay. I knew Fanny was a good girl and that when she got work she would
pay me back. Do you know what Fanny has done? When she heard I was hard
up she wrote me and told me to come up to Michigan to her and she would
take care of me just as I had taken care of her. But I didn't want to
go. Wasn't it nice of her, though?
"Yes, when I was young I had it easy. I had my home and took care of it.
If I needed more money, I mortgaged my home and paid it back. Then I'd
mortgage it and pay it back. But I mortgaged it once too often. That
time I couldn't pay it back. I lost it.
"Well, I'm so glad you came to see me. I remember the pretty little girl
who used to come to my house with Fanny. Be sure to write to her, she'll
appreciate it, and thank you for the handkerchiefs."
Interviewer: Mrs. Annie L. LaCotts
Person interviewed: Margret Hulm, Humphrey, Arkansas
Age: 97
(Story of Abraham Lincoln as a spy)
In the west edge of Humphrey in a small house beneath huge old trees
lives an aged Negro woman with her boy (61 years old) and his wife. This
woman is Margret Hulm who says she was born March 5, 1840 in Hardeman
County, Tennessee. When asked if she remembered anything about the war
and slavery days she said:
"Oh yes mam. I was 24 years old when the slaves were set free. My folks
belonged to Master Jimmie Pruitt, who owned lots of other slaves. When
they told him his niggers were free, he let them go or let them stay on
with him and he'd give them a place to live and some of the crops. I
guess that's what folks call a share crop now. I was what folks called a
house girl. I didn't work in the field like some of the other slaves. I
waited on my mistress and her chillun, answered the door, waited on de
table and done things like that. I remember Mr. Lincoln. He came one day
to our house (I mean my white folks' house). They told me to answer the
door and when I opened it there stood a big man with a gray blanket
around him for a cape. He had a string tied around his neck to hold it
on. A part of it was turned down over the string like a ghost cape. How
was he dressed beneath the blanket? Well, he had on jeans pants and big
mud boots and a big black hat kinda like men wear now. He stayed all
night. We treated him nice like we did everybody when they come to our
house. We heard after he was gone that he was Abraham Lincoln and he was
a spy. That was before the war. Oh, yes, I remember lots about the war.
I remember dark days what we called the black days. It would be so dark
you couldn't see the sun even. That was from the smoke from the
fighting. You could just hear the big guns going _b-o-o-m, boom_, all day.
Yes, I do remember seeing the Yankees. I saw 'em running fast one day
past our house going back away from the fighting place. And once they
hung our master. They told him they wanted his money. He said he didn't
have but one dollar. They said 'we know better than that.' Then they
took a big rope off of one de Yankee's saddle and took de master down in
de horse lot and hung him to a big tree. The rope must a been old, for
it broke. Our master was a big man though. Then they hung him again. He
told 'em he didn't have but one dollar and they let him down and said
'Well, old man, maybe you haven't got any more money.' So they let him
go when the mistress and her little chillun come down there. He didn't
have but one dollar in his pockets but had lots buried about the place
in two or three places."
While Margret was giving this information she was busily sewing together
what looked like little square pads. When examined they proved to be
tobacco sacks stuffed with cotton and then sewed together which would
make a quilt already quilted when she got enough of them sewed together
to cover a bed.
Interviewer: S. S. Taylor
Person interviewed: John Hunter
3200 W. 17th Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 74