"Our house was a frame building, boxed in with one-by-twelve like we
have here in the country. That was a good house with regular flooring,
tongue and groove. We was raised up in a good house. Old Colonel Rice
had to protect his standing. He had good stock. My father was a carriage
man. He had to keep those horses clean and they always looked good. That
carriage had to shine too. Colonel Rice was a high stepper. He'd take
his handkerchief and rub it over the horses hair to see if they were
really clean. He would always find 'em clean though when the old man got
through with them. He would drive fine stock. Had some fine horses.
Couldn't trust 'em with just anybody.
"My mother was cook. She helped Mrs. Rice take care of the kids, and
cooked around the house. She took care of her kids, too.
"The house we was born and bred in was built for a carriage house, but
somehow or 'nother they give it to us to live in. My mother being a
cook, she got what she wanted. That was a good house too. It was sealed.
It had good floors. It had two rooms. It had about three windows and
good doors to each room.
"We had just common furniture. Niggers didn't have much then. My father
was a good mechanic though and he would make anything he wanted. We
didn't have much, just common things. But all my people were mechanics,
harness makers, shoemakers,--they could make anything. Young Sam Parker
could make any kind of shoe. He made shoes for the white folks; Young
Jacob was a blacksmith; he made horseshoes and anything else out of
iron. He may still be living. In fact, he made anything he could get his
hands on. My young uncles on my mother's side, I don't know much about
them, because they were all mechanics. My grandfather on my mother's
side could make baskets--any kind--could make baskets that would hold
water.
"My father had thirteen children. Three of them are living now. My
brother lives here in the city. He was born during the war and his
mother was supposed to be free when he was born.