wanted me to work on the roof and I told him if that was all he had for
me to do he could pay me off because that was off the ground and I was
fraid of falling. He said that I was a good hand and that he hated to
lose me.
In March, 4, 1907, I came here (Little Rock) and at first rolled
concrete in Niemeyer's at $1.50 a day where the other men were getting
from two to two and a half dollars. They quit for more wages and I had
to quit with them. Then I worked around till May 24 when I was hired at
the Mountain Shops as Engine wiper for about six or eight months, then
painted flues for three or four months, then was wood hauler for about
thirteen or more years, then took care of the situation with shavings
and oil, then stayed in wash room six or seven years until I was
retired. I had control of the ice house, too.
IDEAS ABOUT THE PRESENT
Young people are just going back to old Ante-Bellum days. They are going
to destruction. They got a way of their own and you can't tell them
anything. They don't educate anything but their heads. The heart isn't
educated and if my heart is black as my hat, can I do anything for God?
The old people are not getting a square deal. Some of them are being
moved.
SCHOOLING
I did not get much schooling. Between the time I was old enough to go to
school and the time I went to the field, I got a little. I would go to
school from July to September, and also about six weeks in January.
They had public school taught by some of the people. I went to a white
man once. An old white woman taught there before him. I went to a Negro
woman, Old Lady Abbie Lindsay. She lives here now down on State Street.
She is about ninety years old. I went to Jube Williams (white), Current
Lewis, Abbie Lindsay, and A.G. Mertin. They did n't paas you by grades
then. I got through the fourth reader. If you got through, they would go
back and carry you through again. They had the old Blue Back Speller. I
got ready for the fifth reader but I quit. I had just begun to cipher,
in arithmetic, but I had to quit because they could n't spare me out of
the field. In fact they put me into the field when I was eight years
old, but I managed to go to school until I was about twelve years old or
something like that. I never got a year's schooling all put together. My
mother was a widow and had five or six children, none of them able or
big enough to work but my oldest sister. She raised five of us.
If I had done as she told me, I might have been a good scholar. But I
played around and went off with the other children. I learnt way
afterwards when I was grown how to write my name. I could work addition
and I could work some in multiplication, but I couldn't work division
and couldn't work subtraction. Come around any time, specially on Sunday
afternoons.
Name of Interviewer: Velma Sample
Subject: NEGRO LORE--THE STORY OF CASIE JONES BROWN
Casie Jones Brown was a dearly loved Negro servant. He was known for his
loving kindness toward children, both black and white. Lots of the white
children would say, "Casie sure is smart" because Casie was a funny and
witty old darkie. Casie has a log house close to his master, Mr. Brown.
They live on what is called the Brown Plantation. The yard had large old
cedars planted all around it. They were planted almost a century ago.
The plantation is about six miles from Paragould, [TR: possibly
Baragould] Arkansas, where the hills are almost mountains. There have
been four generations living in the old house. They have the big sand
stone fireplaces. Casie has a spiritual power that makes him see and
hear things. He says that sometimes he can hear sweet voices somewhere
in his fireplace. In the winter time he does all of his cooking in a big
black kettle with three legs on it, or a big iron skillet. And when he
first settled there he did not have a stove to cook on except the
fireplace. He says the singing that comes from somewhere about the
fireplace is God having his angels entertain him in his lonely hours.
Casie is 91 years old and has been in that settlement as long as he can
remember.
The little white boys and girls like to be entertained by Casie. He
tells them stories about the bear and peter rabbit. Also he has subjects
for them to ask questions about and he answers them in a clever way. He
was kind enough to let me see the list and the answers. He cannot write
but he has little kids to write them for him. He cannot read, but they
appoint one to read for him, and he has looked at the list so much that
he has it memorized.
Casie, what does hat mean or use hat for a subject. "De price ob your
hat ain't de medjer ob your brain."
Coat--"Ef your coat tail catch afire don't wait till you kin see de
blaze 'fo' you put it out."
Graveyard--"De graveyard is de cheapes' boardin' house."
Mules--"Dar's a fam'ly coolness 'twix' de mule an' de single-tree."
Mad--"It pesters a man dreadful when he git mad an' don' know who to
cuss."
Crop--"Buyin' on credit is robbin' next 'er's crop."
Christmas--"Christmas without holiday is like a candle without a wick."
Crawfish--"De crawfish in a hurry look like he tryin' to git dar
yastiddy."
Lean houn'--"Lean houn' lead de pack when de rabbit in sight."
Snow Flakes--"Little flakes make de deepes' snow."
Whitewash--"Knot in de plank will show froo de whitewash."
Yardstick--"A short yardstick is a po' thing to fight de debbul wid."
Cotton--"Dirt sho de quickes' on de cleanes' cotton."
Candy--"De candy-pullin' din call louder dan de log-rollin'."
Apple--"De bes' apple float on de top o' 'ligion heaps de half-bushel."
Hoe--"De steel hoe dat laughs at de iron one is like de man dat is
shamed of his grand-daddy."
Mule--"A mule kin tote so much goodness in his face dat he don't hab
none lef' for his hind legs."
Walks--"Some grabble walks may lead to de jail."
Cow bell--"De cow bell can't keep a secret."
Tree--"Ripe apples make de tree look taller."
Rose--"De red rose don't brag in de dark."
Billy-goat--"De billy-goat gits in his hardes' licks when he looks like
he gwine to back out of de fight."
Good luck--"Tis hard for de bes' an' smartes' fokes in de wul' to git
'long widout a little tech o' good luck."
Blind horse--"Blind horse knows when de trough empty."
Wagon--"De noise of de wheels don't medjer de load in de wagon."
Hot--"Las' 'ear's hot spell cools off mighty fast."
Hole--"Little hole in your pocket is wusser'n a big one at de knee."
Tim o' day--"Appetite don't regerlate de time o' day."
Quagmire--"De quagmire don't hang out no sign."
Needle--"One pusson kin th'ead a needle better than two."
Pen--"De pint o' de pin is de easier in' to find."
Turnip--"De green top don't medjer de price o' de turnip."
Dog--"Muzzle on de yard dog unlocks de smokehouse."
EQUAL TO THE EMERGENCY
Hebe: "Unc Isrul, mammy says, hoocume de milk so watery on top in de
mornin'."
Patriarch: "Tell you' mammy dat's de bes' sort o' milk, dat's de dew on
it, de cows been layin' in de dew."
Hebe: "An' she tell me to ax you what meck it so blue."
Patriarch: "You ax your mammy what meck she so black."
Here are some of Casie's little rhymes that he entertained the neighbor
children with:
Look at dat possum in dat holler log. He hidin' he know dis nigger eat
possum laik a hog.
Hear dat hoot owl in dat tree. Dat old hoot owl gwine hoot right out at
yew.
Rabbit, rabbit, do you know; I can track you in de snow.
One young man lingered at the gate after a long visit, but a lots ob
sweethearts do det. His lady love started to cry. He said, "Dear, don't
cry; I will come to see you again." But she cried on. "Oh, darling don't
cry so; I will come back again, I sure will." Still she cried. At last
he said: "Love, did I not tell you that I would soon come again to see
you?" And through her tears she replied: "Yes, but I am afraid you will
never go; that is what is the matter with me. We must all go."
Uncle Joshua was once asked a great question. It was: "If you had to be
blown up which would you choose, to be blown up on the railroad or the
steamboat?" "Well," said Uncle Joshua, "I don't want to be blowed up no
way; but if I had to be blowed up I would rather be blowed up on de
railroad, because, you see, if you is blowed up on de railroad, dar you
is, but if you is blowed up on de steamboat, whar is you?"
Casie tells me of some of his superstitions:
If you are the first person a cat looks at after he has licked hisself,
you are going to be married.
If you put a kitten under the cover of your bed and leave it until it
crawls out by itself, it will never leave home.
If you walk through a place where a horse wallows, you will have a
headache.
If a woodpecker raps on the house, someone is going to die.
If an owl screeches, turn the pocket of your apron inside out, tie a
knot in your apron string, and he will stop.
If a rabbit runs across the road in front of you, to the left, it is a
sign of bad luck; if it goes to the right, it is a sign of good luck.
If you cut a child's finger nails before it is a year old, it will steal
when it grows up.
If you put your hand on the head of a dead man, you will never worry
about him; he will never haunt you, and you will never fear death.
If the pictures are not turned toward the wall after a death, some other
member of the family will die.
If you see a dead man in the mirror, you will be unlucky the rest of
your life.
Name of Interviewer: Velma Sample
Subject: Slavery Days
THE ATTACK THE YANKEES MADE ON JOHNNIE REAVES PLACE GIVEN BY AUNT ELCIE
BROWN
Aunt Elcie Brown (a negro girl age nine years old) was living in the
clay hills of Arkansas close to Centerville, and Clinton in Amid County
on Johnnie Reeves Place. Johnnie Reeves was old and had a son named
Henry L. Reeves who was married. Young Reeves got the news that they
were to be attacked by the Yankees at a certain time and he took his
family and all the best stock such as horses, cattle, and sheep to a
cave in a bluff which was hid from the spy-glasses of the Yankees, by
woods all around it. Johnnie Reeves was left to be attacked by the
soldiers. He was blind and almost paralyzed. He had to eat dried beef
shaved real fine and the negro children fed him. They ate as much of it
as he did. Aunt Elcie and her brother fed him most of the time. They
would get on each side of him and lead him for a walk most every day.
The natives thought they would bluff the soldiers and cut the bridge
into and thought that the soldiers would be unable to cross Beavers
Creek, but the Yankees was prepared. They had made a long bridge for the
soldiers to come marching right over. This bridge was just a mile from
Reeves farm. Then the soldiers came they were so many that they could
not all come up the big road but part of them came over the hill by the
sheeps spring and through the pasture.
All the negroes came out of their shacks and watched them march toward
their houses. Elcie and her brother got scared and ran in the house,
crawled in bed and thought they were hid, as they had scrutched down in
the middle of the bed with the door locked. But the soldiers bursted in
and moved the bed from the corner. One stood over the bed and laughed,
then asked the other man to look, then threw the covers off of them. He
first took her brother by one arm and one leg and stood him on his feet,
patted his head and told him not to be afraid, that they would not hurt
them. Then took Elcie and stood her up. He reached in a bag lined with
fur which was strapped on them and gave them both a stick of candy.
Elcie says she thinks that is why she has always liked stick candy. She
also says that that day has stood out to her and she can see everything
just like it was yesterday. All the negro homes were close together and
the soldiers raided them in small bunches. They were kind to the negro
children. Wnen they started to the big house where Johnnie Reeves lived
all the negro children followed them. When they entered the house Mr.
Reeves was sitting by the side of the fire-place and every one that
passed him kicked him brutely. They ransacked the place all over and
when they got up stairs they kicked out all the window pains and tore
off all the window-shutters. They took all the things they wanted out of
the house, such as silver-ware, and jewelry. The smoke-house, milk-house
and store-house was three separate buildings in a row. The first one
they entered was the milk-house. It had seven shelves of milk, cream and
butter in it. There was eleven crocks of sweet milk larger than a
waterbucket. They had forty gallons of butter milk, and over three
gallons of butter in a large flat crock. They also had over five gallons
of cream. The Yankee soldiers ate all the butter and cream and set the
milk in the yard and ask the negro kids to finish the milk.
They drank it like pigs without a cup, just stuck their heads down and
drank like pigs. When they were full the balance of the milk was so
dirty it looked like pigs had been in it.
The soldiers entered the next building which was the store-room where
they stored rice, flour, sugar, coffee, and such like, and they took
what they wanted, then destroyed the rest. Mr. Reeves had just been to
town and bought a hogshead of sugar and they took it out and burst it
and invited the negro children to help themselves. Elcie says that when
the kids all got full there was not a half bushel left. The last raid
was the smoke-house where stuffed sausage was hanging by the hundred and
hams by the dozens. They didn't leave a thing, took lard and everything.
It took over two wagons to hold everything. Then they crossed over to
the next place owned by Bill Gunley.
* * * * *
Dr. Levy tells me of his father being partial to the southerners
although he lived in Evansville, Indiana, and fought as a Yankee. He was
accused of being partial and they would turn over his wagons and cause
him trouble. He had fine wagons and sometimes when he would be turning
his wagons back up after them being turned over to contrary him, he
would curse Gen. Grant and call him that G.D. Old Tobacco spitter.
Although Henry Levy seldom did swear as he was French, sometimes they
would make him mad and he would do so.
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: F. H. Brown
701 Hickory Street, North Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: 75
[HW: Builds Church and School]
"I was born in Marion County, Mississippi. Columbus is the county-seat.
My father's name was Hazard Brown, and my mother's name was Willie
Brown. She was a Rankin before she married. My mother was born in
Lawrence County, Mississippi, and married father there. My father was
born in Tangipahoa Parish, Louisiana. I was born in three feet of the
line in Louisiana. I was born in the old slave quarters. The house was
just across the line between Mississippi and Louisiana. The lower room
was in Louisiana and the other was in Mississippi. There was a three
foot hall between the rooms. It was a matter of convenience that I was
born in Mississippi. I might have been just as well born in Louisiana.
The house was in both states.
"My father's master was Black Bill Warren. Black Bill was just a title
they give him. I think that his name was Joe Warren, but they nicknamed
him Black Bill, and everybody called him that. My mother belonged to the
Rankinses.
"My mother's mother was named Dolly Ware. My father's mother was named
Maria. Their papa's father was named Thomas, and I forget my mother's
father's name. I know it but I forget it just now. I haven't thought
over it for a long time.
"My father when he died was eighty-five years old. He was treated pretty
good in slavery time. He did farm work. His mars had about ninety
slaves, that is, counting children and all. When I was a boy, I was in
those quarters and saw them. I went back there and though it was some
time afterward, taught in them. And later on, I preached in them, since
I have been a preacher, of course. I have a cousin there now. He is
about a hundred years old. He belongs to the Methodist Episcopal Church.
"My father lived to see freedom. He has been dead more than twelve
years. He died at my home.
"He was so close to the fighting that he could hear the guns and the
firing. When they was freed, some white people told him, 'You are just
as free as we are.' I was born after the Emancipation proclamation. The
proclamation was issued in September and I was born in October. It
didn't become effective till January first. So I was born a slave any
way you take it.
"The farm my father worked on was on the Pearl River. It was very
fertile. It was in Mississippi. A very big road runs beside the farm.
The road is called the Big Road. The nigger quarters were across the
road on the south side.
"My mother's folks treated her nicely too. Mr. Rankins didn't have any
slaves but Mrs. Rankins had some. Her people gave them to her. My
grandma who belonged to her had twenty-six children. She got her start
off of the slaves her parents gave her, and finally she had about
seventy-five. She ran a farm. My mother's work was house woman. She
worked in the house. Her mistress was good to her. The overseer couldn't
whip the niggers, except in her presence, so that she could see that it
wasn't brutal. She didn't allow the women to be whipped at all. When an
overseer got rough, she would fire him. Slaves would run away sometimes
and stay in the woods if they thought that they would get a whipping for
it. But she would send word for them to come on back and they wouldn't
be whipped. And she would keep her word about it. The slaves on her
place were treated so good that they were called free niggers by the
other white people. When they were whipped, they would go to the woods.
"I have heard them speak of the pateroles often. They had to get a pass
and then the pateroles wouldn't bother them. They would whip you and
beat you if you didn't have a pass. Slavery was an awful low thing. It
was a bad system. You had to get a pass to go to see your wife. If you
didn't have that pass, they would whip you. The pateroles carried on
their work for a good while after slavery was over, and the Civil War
had ended.
"I was pretty good when I was a boy. So I never had any trouble then. I
was right smart size when I saw the Ku Klux. They would whip men and
women that weren't married and were living together. On the first day of
January, they would whip men and boys that didn't have a job. They kept
the Negroes from voting. They would whip them. They put up notices, 'No
niggers to come out to the polls tomorrow.' They would run them off of
government land which they had homesteaded. Sometimes they would just
persuade them not to vote. A Negro like my father, they would say to
him, 'Now, Brown, you are too good to get messed up. Them other niggers
'round here ain't worth nothing, but you are, and we don't want to see
you get hurt. So you stay 'way from the polls tomorrow.' And tomorrow,
my father would stay away, under the circumstances. They had to depend
on the white people for counsel. They didn't know what to do themselves.
The other niggers they would threaten them and tell them if they came
out they would kill them.
"Right after the war, we farmed on shares. When we made our last
share-crop, father farmed on Senator Bilbo's mother's farm on the State
line. I nursed Senator Bilbo when he was a baby. Theoda Bilbo. He is the
one who says Negroes should be sent to Africa. Then there wouldn't be
nobody here to raise people like him. He fell into the mill pond one day
and I pulled him out and kept him from drowning. If it weren't for that,
he wouldn't be here to say, 'Send all the Negroes to Africa.' If I'd see
him right now, he'd give me ten dollars.
"Mrs. Bilbo's first husband was a Crane. He killed himself. He didn't
intend to. It was in a horse race. The horse ran away with him and
killed him. Then Theoda's father married her. He was a poor man. He
married that widow and got up in the world. They had a gin mill, and a
grist mill, and a sawmill. They got business from everybody. That was
Theoda's daddy--old man Bilbo.
"In 1870, we stayed on Elisha McGhee's farm. We called him Elisha but
his name was Elijah. I began to remember them. The next year, we farmed
for old man William Bilbo. But we didn't get along so well there because
daddy wouldn't let anybody beat him out of anything that was his. That
was Theoda's gran'daddy. Then we went to (Mississippi) Miss Crane's. The
next year she married Theoda Bilbo's daddy and in 1874, my daddy moved
up on his own place at Hurricane Creek. There he built a church and
built a school, and I went to the school on our own place. He stayed
there till 1880. In 1880, we moved to Holly Springs. That was right
after the yellow fever epidemic. I went to school there at Shaw
University. I stayed in that school a good while. It's called Rust
College now. It's named after the Secretary of the Freedman's Aid
Society. Rust was the greatest donor and they named the school after
him. I went to the state school in my last year because they would give
you a lifetime certificate when you finished there. I mean a lifetime
teaching certificate for Mississippi. I finished the course and got the
certificate. There is the diploma up there on the wall. J.H. Henderson
was the principal and he was one of my teachers too. Henderson was a
wonderful man. You know he died out here in the county hospital sometime
ago. Sometime I'll tell you all about him. He was a remarkable man. He
taught there behind Highgate, a Northern man. I'll tell you all about
him sometime.
"I farmed with my father in the early part of my life. When I went to
Holly Springs in 1881, I worked for Dr. T.J. Malone, a banker there, and
a big farmer--President of the Holly Springs Bank. I worked for him
mornings and evenings and slept at home of nights. I would work in
vacation times too at whatever I could find to do till I got about able
to teach. When I first commenced to teach, I taught in several
counties--Lincoln, Simpson, Pike, Marion (the place I went to school),
and Copiah. I built the school at Lawrence County. I organized the
Folsom High School there. It was named after President Cleveland's wife.
I taught there nine years. I married there. My wife's name was Narcissa
Davis. She was a teacher and graduated from the same school I did. She
lived in Calhoun County. She died in 1896, in Conway.
"I taught school at Conway in Faulkner County, and joined the ministry
as a local preacher, in 1896. I moved from there to White County and
taught in Searcy one term. Taught at Beebe ten years. Married again in
1898--Annie Day. I taught at Beebe and lived in White County. Then I
bought me a home at Higginson, and went into the ministry solely. I left
Higginson and taught and pastored seven years at Des Arc. I know
practically everybody in Des Arc. I was thinking today about writing
Brick Williams. He is the son of old man Williams, the one you know I
think. Then I come to what is called Sixteen Section three miles from
Galloway and taught there seven years and pastored. I presided too as
Elder some of those years--North Little Rock District. Then I went back
and pastored there and taught at West Point, Arkansas four years. Then I
pastored at Prescott and was on the Magnolia District as Presiding Elder
two years. Then I presided over the North Little Rock District again.
Pastored St. Luke Circuit in southwest part of Arkansas below
Washington. Then I built a church at Jonesboro. I pastored twenty-nine
years altogether, built five churches, and have been responsible for
five hundred conversions.
"I think the prospects of the country and the race are good. I don't see
much dark days ahead. It is just a new era. You are doing something
right now I never saw done before in my life. Even when they had the
census, I didn't see any colored people taking it.
"I don't get any assistance in the form of money from the government. I
have been trying to get it but I can't. Looks like they cut off a lot of
them and can't reach it. Won't let me teach school. Say I am too old for
WPA teaching. Superannuate me in the church, and say I'm too old to
preach, and still I haven't gotten anything from my church since last
January. I get some commodities from the state. I belong to the C.M.E.
Church. I have lived in this community twenty-five years."
Interviewer's Comment
Hanging on the wall was the old man's diploma from the Mississippi State
Normal School for colored persons. It was dated May 30, 1888, and it
bore the signatures of J.R. Preston, State Superintendent; E.D. Miller,
County Superintendent (both members of the Board of Directors); J.H.
Henderson, Principal; Narcissa Hill and Maria Rabb, faculty members.