We had a terrible time getting along during those years. I don't believe

we could have done it except for the Northern soldiers. You might say

the Confederacy was kept up by private subscription, but the Yankees had

the whole Federal government back of them. They had good rations which

were issued uncooked. They could get them prepared anywhere they liked.

We were good cooks so that is the way we got our food--preparing it for

soldiers and eating it with them. They had quite a variety and a lot of

everything. They were given bacon and coffee and sugar and flour and

beans and somthing they called 'mixed vegetables'. Those beans were

little and sweet--not like the big ones we have today. The mixed

vegetables were liked by lots of folks--I didn't care for them.

Everything was ground up together and then dried. You had to soak it

like dried peas before cooking.

After the war they came to Mrs. Blakeley, the soldiers did, and accused

her of keeping me against my will. I told them that I stayed because I

wanted to, the Blakeleys were my people. They let me alone, the whites

did, but the negroes didn't like it. They tried to fight me and called

me names. There was a well near the square from which everybody got

water. Between it and our house was a negro cabin. The little negroes

would rock me. I stood it as long as I could. Then I told Mrs. Blakeley.

She said to get some rocks in my bucket and if they rocked me to heave

back. I was a good shot and they ran. Their mother came to Mrs. Blakeley

to complain, but she told her after hearing her thru that I had stood

all I could and the only reason I hadn't been seriously hurt was because

her children weren't good shots. They never bothered me again.

It was hard after the war. The Federals stayed on for a long time.

Fences were down, houses were burned, stock was gone, but we got along

somehow. When Nora Blakeley was 14 a lady was teaching a subscription

school in the hall across the street--the same hall Mrs. Blakely had

saved from burning. She wanted Nora to teach for her. So, child that she

was, she went over and pretty soon she was teaching up to the fourth

grade. I went over every morning and built a fire for her before she

arrived.

That fall she went over to the University, but the next year she had to

stay out to earn money. She wanted to finish so badly that we decided to

take boarders. They would come to us from way over on the campus. There

were always lots more who wanted to stay than we could take. We bought

silver and dishes just as we could pay for them, and we added to the

house in the summer time. I used to cook their breakfasts and dinners

and pack baskets of lunch for them to take over to the Campus. We had

lots of interesting people with us. One was Jeff Davis--later he was

governor and then senator. He and a Creek Indian boy named Sam Rice were

great friends. There were lots of Indians in school at the University

then. They didn't have so many Indian schools and tribes would make up

money and send a bright boy here.

Ten years after she graduated from the University Nora married Harvey M.

Hudgins. They moved to Hot springs and finally ran a hotel. It burned

the night of Washington's birthday in 1895. It was terrible, we saved

nothing but the night clothes we were in. Next morning it was worse for

we saw small pox flags all over town. Our friends came to our rescue and

gave us clothes and we went with friends out into the country to escape

the epidemic. There were three or four families in one little house. It

was crowded, but we were all friends so it was nice after all.

About ten years before Mr. Hudgins had built a building in Fayetteville.

They used the second floor for an Opera House. When we came back here

after the fire we took it over to run. Mr. Hudgins had that and all the

billboards in town. We saw all the shows. Several years later the twins,

Helen and Wade were born. I always went to see the shows and took them

with me. Folks watched them more than the shows. I kept them neat and

clean and they were so cute.

We saw the circuses too. I remember once Barnum and Bailey were coming

to Fort Smith. We were going down. I didn't tell anybody, but I put $45

in my purse. I made money then. Mr. Hudgins got me a cow and I sold milk

and butter and kept all I made. Why the first evening dress Helen had

and the first long pants Bud (Wade) had I bought. Well, we were going

down to Fort Smith, but Bud got sick and we couldn't go. You know, Mary,

it seemed so queer. When Helen and I went to California, we all saw the

same circus together. Yes, I've been to California with her twice.

Whenever the train would stop she would come from the pullman to the

coach where the colored persons had to ride to see about me. We went out

to visit Sister (Bess Hudgins Clayton) and Bud. While we were there,

Barnum and Bailey came to Los Angeles. It seemed so funny. There we

were--away out in California--all the children grown up and off to

themselves. There we were--all of us--seeing the show we had planned to

see way back in Arkansas, years and years before.

You know, Honey, that doll Ann has--she got it for her seventh birthday

(Elisabeth Ann Wiggans--daughter of Helen Hudgins Wiggans). It was

restrung for her, and was once before for her mother. But it's the same

doll Baby Dean (Dean Hudgins) carried out of that fire in Hot Springs in

1895. Everybody loves Ann. She makes the fifth generation I've cared

for. When Helen is going out she brings Ann down here or I go up there.

It's usually down here tho. Because since we turned the old home into

apartments I take care of them, and it's best for me to be here most of

the time.

All the people in the apartments are mighty nice to me. Often for days

at a time they bring me so much to eat that I don't have to cook for

myself. A boy going to the University has a room here and tends to the

furnace. He's a nice boy. I like him.

My life's been a full one, Honey, and an interesting one. I can't really

say which part of it is best. I can't decide whether it's a better world

now or then. I've had lots of hard work, and lots of friends, lots of

fun and I've gone lots of places. Life is interesting."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson

Person interviewed: Vera Roy Bobo (Mulatto, almost white)

Holly Grove, Arkansas

Age: 62

"My parents come from Macon, Georgia. My mother was Margaret Cobb. Her

people were owned by the Cobbs. They reared her. She was a house girl

and a seamstress. She sewed for both white and black. She was light

color.

"My father was St. Roy Holmes. He was a C.M.E. preacher in Georgia and

later in Arkansas. He came on the train to Forrest City, 1885. He

crossed the Mississippi River on a ferry boat. Later he preached at

Wynne. He was light color.

"I never heard them say very much about slavery. This was their own

home.

"My husband's father was the son of a white man also--Randall Bobo. He

used to visit us from Bobo, Mississippi. The Bobo a owned that town and

were considered rich people. My husband was some darker and was born at

Indian Bay, Arkansas. He was William Bobo. I never knew him till two

months before I married him. We had a home wedding and a wedding supper

in this house."

(This may be continued)

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson

Person interviewed: Liddie Boechus, (second interview)

Madison, Arkansas

Age: 73

"I was born in West Point, Mississippi. My own dear mother's owner was

Pool. His wife was Mistress Patty Pool. Old man Pool raised our set. He

was an old soldier, I think. He was old when I came to know him.

"My own papa's pa was Smith. After he came back from the Civil War he

took back his Smith name. He changed it back from Pool to Smith.

"I was a small child when my own dear mother died. My stepmother had

some children of her own, so papa hired me out by the year to nurse for

my board and clothes. My stepmother didn't care for me right. White

folks raised me.

"I married when I was fifteen years old to a man twenty years old or

more. White folks was good to me but I didn't have no sense. I lef' 'em.

I married too young. I lived wid him little over twelve years, and I had

twelve children by him. Then I married a preacher. We had two more

children. My first husband was trifling. I ploughed, hoed, split wood to

raise my babies.

"My daughter come from Louisiana to stay with me last winter when I was

sick. I got eight dollars, now I gets six dollars from the Welfare. My

daughter here now.

"I went to one white teacher a few days--Miss Perkins. I never got to go

enough to learn. I took up reading and writing from my children. I write

mighty poor I tell you.

"I used to be a midwife and got ten dollars a case. They won't pay off

now. I do a little of that work, but I don't get nothing for it. They

have a doctor or won't pay.

"My husband was a good man. He was a preacher. I'm a Baptist.

"I don't know what to think about young folks. Every feller is for his

own self. Times is hard with old folks. I had a stroke they said. This

new generation ain't got no strength. I think it is because they set

around so much. What would a heap of them do? A long day's work in the

field would kill some of them. It would! Some folks don't work 'nough to

be healthy. I don't know, but though, I really believes education and

automobiles is the whole cause."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson

Person interviewed: Maggie (Bunny) Bond, Madison, Arkansas

Age: Well up in 80's

"I was born at Magnolia, North Carolina. Lou Nash named me Maggie after

my mistress. That was her name. They had a rabbit they called Bunny. It

died. They started calling me Bunny. Our old mistress was a Mallory from

Virginia. She was the old head of all these at Forrest City. (A big

family of people are descendants at Forrest City.)

School During the War

"Mrs. Eddy Williams said to my mother, 'Let her go to school and play

with the children.' I was young. I don't know how old I was. I was

washed, my hair combed, and clean dresses put on me. I went to school

four or five days. I set by different ones. They used slates. It was a

log schoolhouse. It had a platform the teacher sat on. They preached in

it on Sunday. Where Mt. Vernon Cemetery now stands. The teacher was Mrs.

McCallis. She rode horseback from out of the bottoms. The families of

children that come there were: Mallorys, Izards, Nashs, Dawsons,

Kittrells, and Pruitts.

"There was a big oak tree in front. The boys played on one side, the

girls on the other. Cake and pie was a fortune then. If the children had

any they would give me part of it. Times was so hard then people had

plain victuals every day at school.

"The children tried to learn me at recess under the tree. They used

McGuffey's and Blue Back books. One day I said out loud, 'I want to go

home.' The children all laughed. One day I went to sleep and the teacher

sent me out doors to play. Mrs. McCallis said, 'Bunny, you mus'n't talk

out loud in school.' I was nodding one day. The teacher woke me up. She

wrapped her long switch across the table. She sent me to play. The house

set up on high blocks. I got under it and found some doodle holes. Mrs.

McCallis come to the door and said, 'Bunny, don't call so loud. You must

keep quiet.' I would say: 'Doodle, doodle, your house on fire. Come get

some bread and butter.' They would come up.

"After the War I had a white lady teacher from the North. I went a

little bit to colored school but I didn't care about books. I learned to

sew for my dolls. The children would give me a doll all along.

"The happiest year of my whole life was the first year of my married

life. I hardly had a change of clothes. I had lots of friends. I went to

the field with Scott. I pressed cotton with two horses, one going around

and the other coming. Scott could go upstairs in the gin and look over

at us. We had two young cows. They had to be three years old then before

they were any service. I fed hogs. I couldn't cook but I learned. I had

been a house girl and nurse.

"I was nursing for Mrs. Pierce at Goodwin. I wanted to go home. She

didn't want me to leave. I wouldn't tell her why. She said, 'I speck you

going to get married.' She gave me a nice white silk dress. Mrs.

Drennand made it. My owner, Miss Leila Nash, lend me one of her

chemisette, a corset cover, and a dress had ruffles around the bottom.

It was wide. She never married. I borrowed my veil from a colored woman

that had used it. Mr. Rollwage (dead now but was a lawyer at Forrest

City) gave Scott a tie and white vest and lend him his watch and chain

to be married in. They was friends. Miss Leila made my cake. She wanted

my gold band ring to go in it. I wouldn't let her have it for that. Not

my ring! She put a dime in it. Miss Maggie Barrow and Mrs. Maggie

Hatcher made two baskets full of maple biscuits for my wedding. They was

the best cake. Made in big layers and cut and iced. Two laundry baskets

full to the brim."

She showed us a white cedar three-gallon churn, brass hoops hold the

staves in place, fifty-seven years old and a castor with seven cruits

patented December 27, 1859. It was a silver castor and was fixed to ring

for the meal.

She showed us the place under a cedar tree where there are four unmarked

graves--Mr. and Mrs. McMurray and their son and daughter and one niece.

The graves are being ploughed over now.

"Mrs. Murray's son gave her five hundred dollars. She hid it. After she

died no one knew where to find it."

Scott Bond bought the place. Bunny was fixing the hearth (she showed us

the very spot) brick and found a brick. Dora threw it out. The can could

never be found and soon Dora went home near Chattanooga, Tennessee. Dora

was a Negro servant in the Bond home. It seems the money was in the old

can that Bunny found but thought it was just a prop for the brick.

Maggie (Bunny) Bond has given two of her white friends coffins. One was

to a man and two years ago one was to a woman, Mrs. Evans' daughter. She

wanted to do something, the nicest thing she could do for them, for they

had been good to her. People who raised them and had owned them. They

gratefully accepted her present. In her life she has given beautiful and

expensive wedding preaents to her white friends who raised her and owned

her. She told us about giving one and someone else said she gave two.

Theo Bond's wife said this about the second one.

The Yankees passed along in front of the Scott Bond home from Hunter,

Arkansas to Madison, Arkansas. It was an old military road. The Yankees

burnt up Mt. Vernon, Arkansas. Madison was a big town but it overflowed

so bad. There were pretty homes at Madison. Levies were not known, so

the courthouse was moved to Forrest City. Yankees camped at Madison. A

lot of them died there. A cemetery was made in sight of the Scott Bond

yard. The markings were white and black letters and the pailings were

white with black pointed tips. They were moved to the north. Madison

grew to be large because it was on a river.

Interviewer's Comment

Maggie (Bunny) Bond is eight-ninth white.

Interviewer: Thomas Elmore Lucy

Person interviewed: Caroline Bonds

Russellville, Arkansas

Age: 70

"What's all dis info'mation you askin' about goin' to be for? Will it

help us along any or make times any better? All right, then. My name's

Caroline Bonds. I don't know jist exactly when I was born, but I think

it was on de twentieth of March about--about--yes, in 1866, in Anderson

County, North Carolina.

"So you was a 'Tarheel' too? Bless my soul!

"My old master was named Hubbard, and dat was my name at first. My

parents belonged to Marse Hubbard and worked on his big plantation till

dey was freed.

"I was too little to remember much about what happened after de War. My

folks moved to Arkansas County, in Arkansas, soon after de War and lived

down dere a long time.

"I joined de Missionary Baptis' Church when I was fifteen and has

belonged to it ever' since.

"No sir, I never got in de habit of votin' and never did vote, never

thought it was necessary."

Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor

Person interviewed: Rev. Frank T. Boone

1410 W. Seventeenth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas

Age: 80

[HW: Free Colonies]

"I was born in Nansemond County, Virginia on my father's place near the

center of the County. I was born free. We were members of the colonies.

You know there were what is known as Free Colonies. They were Negroes

that had always been free. The first landing of the Negroes in America,

they claimed, formed a colony. The Negro men who came over, it is said,

could buy their freedom and a number of them did.

"But I didn't become free that way. My ancestors were a white man and an

Indian woman. He was my great-grandfather. None of my family have been

slaves as far back as I know.

"There was one set of white people in Virginia called Quakers. Their

rule was to free all slaves at the age of twenty-one. So we got some

free Negroes under that rule. My mother who was a Negro woman was freed

under this rule. My father was always free.

"My grandmother on my father's side owned slaves. The law was that

colored people could own slaves but they were not allowed to buy them. I

don't know how many slaves my grandmother owned. I didn't know they were

slaves until the War was over. I saw the colored people living in the

little houses on the place but I didn't know they was slaves.

"One morning my grandmother went down to the quarters and when she came

back she said to my aunt, 'Well, the slaves left last night.' And that

was the first I knew of their being slaves.

"My father's name was Frank Boone. I was named for him. My mother's name

was Phoebe Chalk. I don't know who her mother and father were. She said

that her mother died when she was a child. She was raised by Quaker

people. I presume that her mother belonged to these Quaker people.

"On our place no grown person was ever whipped. They was just like one

family. They called grandmother's house the big house. They farmed. They

didn't raise cotton though. They raised corn, peas, wheat, potatoes, and

all things for the table. Hogs, cows, and all such like was raised. I

never saw a pound of meat or a peck of flour or a bucket of lard or

anything like that bought. We rendered our own lard, pickled our own

fish, smoked our own meat and cured it, ground our own sausage, ground

our own flour and meal from our own wheat and corn we raised on our

place, spun and wove our own cloth. The first suit of clothes I ever

wore, my mother spun the cotton and wool, wove the cloth and made the

clothes. It was a mixed steel gray suit. She dyed the thread so as to

get the pattern. One loom carried the black thread through and the other

carried the white thread to weave the cloth into the mixed pattern.

"I don't know how large our place was. Maybe it was about a hundred

acres. Every one that married out of the family had a home. They called

it a free Negro colony. Nothing but Negroes in it.

"My father volunteered and went to the army in 1862. He served with the

Yankees. You know Negroes didn't fight in the Confederate armies. They

was in the armies, but they were servants. My father enrolled as a

soldier. I think it was in Company F. I don't know the regiment or the

division. He was a sergeant last time I saw him. I remember that well, I

remember the stripes on his arm. He was mustered out in Galveston,

Texas, in 1865.

"The house I was born in was a log house, sealed inside. The cracks were

chinked with dirt and mud, and it was weather boarded on the outside.

You couldn't tell it was a log house. It had two rooms. In them times

you didn't cook in the house you lived in. You had a kitchen built off

from the house you lived in just like you have servant quarters now. You

went across the yard to do your cooking. The smokehouse was off by

itself. Milk was off by itself too. The dairy house was where you kept

the flour and sugar and preserves and fruit and pickles and all those

kind of things. No food was kept in the house. The milk house had

shelves all up in it and when you milked the cows the pans and bowls and

crocks were put up on the shelves. Where it was possible the milk house

was built on a branch or spring where you could get plenty of cold

water. You didn't milk in the milk house. You milked in the cow pen

right out in the weather. Then you carried it down to the milk house and

strained it. It was poured out in vessels. When the cream rose it was

skimmed off to churn for butter.

"Feed for the stock was kept in the corn crib. We would call it a barn

now. That barn was for corn and oft'times we had overhead a place where

we kept fodder. Bins were kept in the barn for wheat and peas.

Slaves on Other Places

"I seen the slaves outside the colonies. I was little and didn't pay any

attention to them. Slaves would run away. They had a class of white

people known as patrollers. They would catch the slaves and whip them. I

never saw that done. I heard them talking about it. I was only a child

and never got a chance to see the slaves on the places of other people,

but just heard the folks talking about them.

Within the Yankee Lines

"When the War broke out, the free colored people became fearful. There

was a great deal of stuff taken away from them by the Confederate

soldiers. They moved into the Yankee lines for protection. My family

moved also. They lost live stock and feed. They lost only one horse and

then they came back home. I can see that old horse right now. He was a

sorrel horse, with a spot in his forehead, and his name was John. My

father was inside the Yankee lines when he volunteered for the service.

I don't know how much he got or anything about it except that I know the

Yankees were holding Portsmouth, Norfolk, Hampton Roads, and all that

country.

Expectations of the Slaves

"I could hear my mother and uncle talk about what the slaves expected. I

know they was expecting to get something. They weren't supposed to be

turned out like wild animals like they were. I think it was forty acres

and a mule. I am not sure but I know they expected something to be

settled on them.

What They Got

"If any of them got anything in Virginia, I don't know anything about

it. They might have been some slaves that did get something--just like

they was here in Arkansas.

"Old Man Wilfong, when he freed Andy Wilfong in Bradley County,

Arkansas, gave Andy plenty. He did get forty acres of land. That is

right down here out from Warren. Wilfong owned that land and a heap more

when he died. He hasn't been dead more than six or seven years. I

pastored him in 1904 and 1905. There were others who expected to get

something, but I don't know any others that got it. Land was cheap then.

Andy bought land at twenty-five and fifty cents an acre, and sold the

timber off of it at the rate of one thousand dollars for each forty

acres. He bought hundreds of acres. He owned a section and a section and

one-half of land when he was my member. He had seven boys and two girls

and he gave them all forty acres apiece when they married. Then he sold

the timber off of four forties. Whenever a boy or girl was married he'd

give him a house. He'd tell him to go out and pick himself out a place.

"He sold one hundred and sixty acres of timber for four thousand

dollars, but if he had kept it for two years longer, he would have got

ten thousand dollars for it. The Bradley Lumber Company went in there

and cut the timber all through.

"Wilfong's master's name was Andrew Wilfong, same as Andy's. His master

came from Georgia, but he was living in Arkansas when freedom came.

Later on Andy bought the farm his master was living on when freedom

came. His master was then dead.

Right After the War

"My mother came back home and we went on farming just like we did

before, raising stuff to eat. You know I can't remember much that they

did before the War but I can remember what they did during the War and

after the War,--when they came back home. My folks still own the old

place but I have been away from there sixty-one years. A whole

generation has been raised up and died since I left.

"I came out with one of my cousins and went to Georgia (Du Pont)

following turpentine work. It was turpentine farming. You could cut a

hole in the tree known as the box. It will hold a quart. Rosin runs out

of that tree into the box. Once a week, they go by and chip a tree to

keep the rosin running. Then the dippers dip the rosin out and put it in

barrels. Them barrels is hauled to the still. Then it is distilled just

like whiskey would be. The evaporation of it makes turpentine; the rosin

is barreled and shipped to make glass. The turpentine is barreled and

sold. I have dipped thousands of gallons of turpentine.

Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States from Interviews with Former Slaves, Volume II, Arkansas Narratives, Part 1 · 第 10 / 18 段