*Interview with Emma Crockett*
--_Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama_
On the old east road from Livingston to Epes, about six miles north-east
of Livingston, is the "double house" built of widely assorted materials,
where Emma Crockett lives. The older part of the house is the "settin'
room" where the stick-and-clay chimney of its earlier days has been
replaced by a new brick chimney. A roof of corrugated sheet metal tops
the warped, roughly hewn logs which form the walls. The "new room" is
built in the later shanty style--pine boards, unplaned, and nailed
upright to a frame of 2X4's, the cracks of the flat joints "stripped"
with narrow siding. A roof of "bought" shingles covers this room.
Connecting the two rooms is an open hall roofed with heavy boards
"rived" from pine blocks. Despite its conglomerate architecture this is
a better "colored folks'" house than many in the Black Belt. These
"double houses" often have no roof for the hall and some also lack a
floor, the hall being made entirely of earth, sky and imagination.
Emma settled herself on the top step at the front of the hall to talk to
me, after first ironing a tiny wrinkle out of her "string apron" with
her hand.
[Illustration: _Emma Crockett, Livingston, Alabama_]
"Miss, I'm 'bout sebenty-nine or eighty year old," she told me, "and I
belonged to Marse Bill Hawkins and Miss Betty. I lived on deir
plantation right over yander. My mammy was called Cassie Hawkins and my
pappy was Alfred Jolly. I was Emma Jolly 'fore I married Old Henry
Crockett. Us had five chillun and dey's two of 'em livin' in Bummin'ham,
Fannie and Mary.
"Sometimes I kain't git my min' together so as I kin tell nothin'. I
fell out t'other day and had a misery in my head ever since. I wish I
could read, but I wa'n't never l'arnt nothin' 'ceptin' atter Surrender
Miss Sallie Cotes she showed us how to read printin'; but I kain't read
no writin. I kain't tell you so much 'bout de wah' ca'se my recollection
ain't no 'count dese days. All I knowed, 'twas bad times and folks got
whupped, but I kain't say who was to blame; some was good and some was
bad. I seed the patterollers, and atter Surrender de Ku Kluxes dey come
den, but didn't never bother me. See, I wan't so old and I minded
ev'ybody, and didn't vex 'em none. Us didn't go to church none, but I
goes now to de New Prophet Church and my favorite song is:
Set down, set down, set down,
Set down, set down,
Set down, chile, set down.
Soul so happy till I kain't set down.
Move de member, move Dan-u-el,
Move de member, move Dan-u-el.
Dan-u-el, member, don' move so slow.
Dan-u-el, member, don' move so slow.
Got on my rockin' shoes, Dan-u-el.
Got on my rockin' shoes, Dan-u-el.
Shoes gwine to rock me home,
Shoes gwine to rock me home, Dan-u-el,
Shoes gwine to rock me home, Dan-u-el,
Shoes gwine to rock me home, Dan-u-el,
Dan-u-el.
Shoes gwine to rock by faith,
Shoes gwine to rock by faith, Dan-u-el,
Shoes gwine to rock by faith, Dan-u-el.
Love de member, move Dan-u-el.
Love de member, move Dan-u-el.
Got on my starry crown, Dan-u-el.
Got on my starry crown, Dan-u-el.
"Dat's all I kin tell you today, honey. Come back when dis misery leave
my head and I gwine to think up some tales and old songs.
[Illustration: _Emma Crockett's House, Livingston, Alabama_]
"But I didn't never fool wid no hoodoo and no animal stories neither. I
didn't have no time for no sich foolishness. And I ain't scared of
nothin' neither.
"I lives here wid my grandchile now on Mr. Bob Davis' place. Us gits
enough to eat, I reckon, but it's tight, I tell you dat!"