Chapter IV: Part 4

"I was set free in April. About nine o'clock in the morning when we went to see what work we would do, ol' man Wright called us all up and told us to come together. Then he told us we were free. I couldn't get nothing to do; so I jus' stayed on and made a crop."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: John W. H. Barnett, Marianna, Arkansas Age: 81

"I was born at Clinton Parish, Louisiana. I'm eighty-one years old. My parents and four children was sold and left six children behind. They kept the oldest children. In that way I was sold but never alone. Our family was divided and that brought grief to my parents. We was sold on a block at New Orleans. J.J. Gambol (Gamble?) in north Louisiana bought us. After freedom I seen all but one of our family. I don't recollect why that was.

"For three weeks steady after the surrender people was passing from the War and for two years off and on somebody come along going home. Some rode and some had a cane or stick walking. Mother was cooking a pot of shoulder meat. Them blue soldiers come by and et it up. I didn't get any I know that. They cleaned us out. Father was born at Eastern Shore, Maryland. He was about half Indian. Mother's mother was a squaw. I'm more Indian than Negro. Father said it was a white man's war. He didn't go to war. Mother was very dark. He spoke a broken tongue.

"We worked on after freedom for the man we was owned by. We worked crops and patches. I didn't see much difference then. I see a big change come out of it. We had to work. The work didn't slacken a bit. I never owned land but my father owned eighty acres in Drew County. I don't know what become of it. I worked on the railroad section, laid crossties, worked in stave mills. I farmed a whole lot all along. I hauled and cut wood.

"I get ten dollars and I sells sassafras and little things along to help out. My wife died. My two sons left just before the World War. I never hear from them. I married since then.

"Present times--I can't figure it out. Seems like a stampede. Not much work to do. If I was young I reckon I could find something to do.

"Present generation--Seem like they are more united. The old ones have to teach the young ones what to do. They don't listen all the time. The times is strange. People's children don't do them much good now seems like. They waste most all they make some way. They don't make it regular like we did farming. The work wasn't regular farming but Saturday was ration day and we got that."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Josephine Ann Barnett, R.F.D., De Valls Bluff, Arkansas Age: 75 or 80

"I do not knows my exact age. I judge I somewhere between 75 and 80 years old. I was born close to Germantown, Tennessee. We belong, that is my mother, to Phillip McNeill and Sally McNeill. My mother was a milker. He had a whole heap of hogs, cattle and stock. That not all my mother done. She plowed. Children done the churnin'.

"The way it all come bout I was the onliest chile my mother had. Him and Miss Sallie left her to help gather the crop and they brought me in the buggy wid them. I set on a little box in the foot of the buggy. It had a white umbrella stretched over it. Great big umbrella run in between them. It was fastened to the buggy seat. When we got to Memphis they loaded the buggy on the ship. I had a fine time coming. When we got to Bucks Landing we rode to his place in the buggy. It is 13 miles from here (De Valls Bluff). In the fall nearly all his slaves come out here. Then when my mother come on. I never seen my papa after I left back home [TR: Crossed out: (near Germantown)]. My father belong to Boston Hack. He wouldn't sell and Mr. McNeill wouldn't sell and that how it come.

"I muster been five or six years old when I come out here to Arkansas. My grandma was a midwife. She was already out here. She had to come with the first crowd cause some women was expecting. I tell you it sho was squally times. This country was wild. It was different from Tennessee or close to Germantown where we come from. None of the slaves liked it but they was brought.

"The war come on direckly after we got here. Several families had the slaves drove off to Texas to save them. Keep em from following the Yankee soldiers right here at the Bluff off. I remember seein' them come up to the gate. My mother and two aunts went. His son and some more men drove em. After freedom them what left childern come back. I stayed with my grandma while they gone. I fed the chickens, shelled corn, churned, swept. I done any little turns they sent me to do.

"One thing I remember happened when they had scrimmage close--it mighter been the one on Long Prairie--they brought a young boy shot through his lung to Mr. Phillip McNeill's house. He was a stranger. He died. I felt so sorry for him. He was right young. He belong to the Southern army. The Southern army nearly made his place their headquarters.

"Another thing I remember was a agent was going through the country settin' fire to all the cotton. Mr. McNeill had his cotton--all our crop we made. That man set it afire. It burned more than a week big. He burned some left at the gin not Mr. McNeill's. It was fun to us children but I know my grandma cried and all the balance of the slaves. Cause they got some Christmas money and clothes too when the cotton was sold.

"The slaves hated the Yankees. They treated them mean. They was having a big time. They didn't like the slaves. They steal from the slaves too. Some poor folks didn't have slaves.

"After freedom my mother come back after me and we come here to De Valls Bluff and I been here ever since. The Yankee soldiers had built shacks and they left them. They would do. Some was one room, log, boxed and all sorts. They give us a little to eat to keep us from starvin'. It sho was a little bit too. My mother got work about.

"The first schoolhouse was a colored school. We had two rooms and two teachers sent down from the North to teach us. If they had a white school I didn't know it. They had one later on. I was bout grown. Mr. Proctor and Miss Rice was the first teachers. We laughed bout em. They was rough looking, didn't look like white folks down here we'd been used to. They thought they sho was smart. Another teacher come down here was Mr. Abner. White folks wouldn't have nothin' to do with em. We learned. They learned us the ABC's and to write. I can read. I learned a heap of it since I got grown just trying. They gimme a start.

"Times is hard in a way. Prices so high. I never had a hard time in my life. I get $40 a month. It is cause my husband was a soldier here at De Valls Bluff.

"I do not vote. I ain't goiner vote.

"I don't know what to think of the young generation. They are on the road to ruin seems like. I speakln' of the real young folks. They do like they see the white girls and boys doin'. I don't know what to become of em. The women outer stay at home and let the men take care of em. The women seems like taking all the jobs. The colored folks cookin' and making the living for their men folks. It ain't right--to me. But I don't care how they do. Things ain't got fixed since that last war." (World War).

Interviewer: Mrs. Rosa B. Ingram Person interviewed: Lizzie Barnett; Conway, Arkansas Age: 100?

"Yes; I was born a slave. My old mammy was a slave before me. She was owned by my old Miss, Fanny Pennington, of Nashville, Tennessee. I was born on a plantation near there. She is dead now. I shore did love Miss Fanny.

"Did you have any brothers and sisters, Aunt Liz.?"

"Why, law yes, honey, my mammy and Miss Fanny raised dey chillun together. Three each, and we was jes' like brothers and sisters, all played in de same yard. No, we did not eat together. Dey sot us niggers out in de yard to eat, but many a night I'se slept with Miss Fanny.

"Mr. Pennington up and took de old-time consumption. Dey calls it T.B. now. My mammy nursed him and took it from him and died before Mr. Abe Lincoln ever sot her free.

"I have seen hard times, Miss, I shore have.

"In dem days when a man owned a plantation and had children and they liked any of the little slave niggers, they were issued out to 'em just like a horse or cow.

"'Member, honey, when de old-time war happened between the North and South, The Slavery War. It was so long ago I just can 'member it. Dey had us niggers scared to death of the Bluejackets. One day a man come to Miss Fanny's house and took a liking to me. He put me up on a block an' he say, 'How old is dis nigger?' An' she say 'five' when she know well an' good I was ten. No, he didn't get me. But I thought my time had come.

"Yes, siree, I was Miss Fanny's child. Why wouldn't I love her when I sucked titty from her breast when my mammy was working in the field? I shore did love Miss Fanny.

"When de nigger war was over and dey didn't fit (fight) any longer, Abe Lincoln sot all de niggers free and den got 'sassinated fer doin it.

"Miss, you don't know what a hard life we slaves had, cause you ain't old enough to 'member it. Many a time I've heard the bull whips a-flying, and heard the awful cries of the slaves. The flesh would be cut in great gaps and the maggits (maggots) would get in them and they would squirm in misery.

"I want you to know I am not on Arkansas born nigger. I come from Tennessee. Be sure to put that down. I moved to Memphis after Miss Fanny died.

"While I lived in Memphis, de Yellow Fever broke out. You have never seed the like. Everything was under quarantine. The folks died in piles and de coffins was piled as high as a house. They buried them in trenches, and later they dug graves and buried them. When they got to looking into the coffins, they discovered some had turned over in dey coffins and some had clawed dey eyes out and some had gnawed holes in dey hands. Dey was buried alive!

"Miss, do you believe in ha'nts? Well, if you had been in Memphis den you would. Dey was jes' paradin' de streets at nite and you'd meet dem comin at you round de dark corners and all de houses everywhere was ha'nted. I've seed plenty of 'em wid my own eyes, yes, siree.

"Yes, the times were awful in Memphis endurin the plague. Women dead lying around and babies sucking their breasts. As soon as the frost came and the quarantine was lifted, I came to Conway, 1867. But I am a Tennessee nigger.

"When I cams to Conway there were few houses to live in. No depot. I bought this piece of land to build my shanty from Mr. Jim Harkrider for $25.00. I worked hard for white folks and saved my money and had this little two-room house built (mud chimney, and small porch and one small window). It is about to fall down on me, but it will last as long as I live. At first, I lived and cooked under a bush (brush) arbor. Cooked on the coals in an iron skillet. Here it it, Miss.

"Part ob de time after de nigger war (Civil) I lived in Hot Springs. President 'Kinley had a big reservation over there and a big hospital for the sick and wounded soldiers. Den de war broke out in Cuba and dere was a spatch (dispatch) board what de news come over dat de war was on. Den when dat war was over and 'Kinley was tryin to get us niggers a slave pension dey up and 'sassinated him.

"After Mr. Lincoln sot de slaves free, dey had Northern teachers down South and they were called spies and all left the country.

"I don't know 'sactly how old I am. Dey say I am 100. If Miss Fanny was livin' she could settle it. But I have had a hard life. Yes mam. Here I is living in my shanty, 'pendin' on my good white neighbors to feed me and no income 'cept my Old Age Pension. Thank God for Mr. Roosevelt. I love my Southern white friends. I am glad the North and South done shook hands and made friends. All I has to do now is sit and look forward to de day when I can meet my old mammy and Miss Fanny in the Glory Land. Thank God."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Spencer Barnett (blind), Holly Grove, Ark. Age: 81

"I was born April 30, 1856. It was wrote in a old Bible. I am 81 years old. I was born 3 miles from Florence, Alabama. The folks owned us was Nancy and Mars Tom Williams. To my recollection they had John, William, and Tom, boys; Jane, Ann, Lucy, and Emma, girls. In my family there was 13 children. My parents name Harry and Harriett Barnett.

"Mars Tom Williams had a tanning yard. He bought hides this way: When a fellow bring hides he would tan em then give him back half what he brought. Then he work up the rest in shoes, harness, whoops, saddles and sell them. The man all worked wid him and he had a farm. He raised corn, cotton, wheat, and oats.

"That slavery was bad. Mars Tom Williams wasn't cruel. He never broke the skin. When the horn blowed they better be in place. They used a twisted cowhide whoop. It was wet and tied, then it mortally would hurt. One thing you had to be in your place day and night. It was confinin'.

"Sunday was visiting day.

"One man come to dinner, he hit a horse wid a rock and run way. He missed his dinner. He come back fo dark and went tole Mars Tom. He didn't whoop him. I was mighty little when that took place.

"They worked on Saturday like any other day. One man fixed out the rations. It didn't take long fer to go git em.

"The women plowed like men in plow time. Some women made rails. When it was cold and raining they spun and wove in the house. The men cut wood under a shed or side the barn so it knock off the wind. Mars Tom Williams had 12 grown men and women. I was too little to count but I heard my folks call am over by name and number more times en I got fingers and toes. He would hire em out to work some.

"When freedom come on I was on Hawkin Lankford Simpson place. It was 3 or 5 miles from town. They had a big dinner-picnic close by. It was 4 or 5 day of August. A lot of soldiers come by there and said, 'You niggers air free.' It bout broke up the picnic. The white folks broke off home. Them wanted to go back went, them didn't struck off gone wild. Miss Lucy and Mr. Bob Barnett give all of em stayed some corn and a little money. Then he paid off at the end of the year. Then young master went and rented at Dilly Hunt place. We stayed wid him 3 or 4 years then we went to a place he bought. Tom Barnett come to close to Little Rock. Mars William started and died on the way in Memphis. We come on wid the family. Guess they are all dead now. Wisht I know or could find em. Tom never married. He was a soldier. One of the boys died fo the war started.

"My brother Joe married Luvenia Omsted and Lewis Omsted married my sister Betsy and Mars Tom Williams swapped the women. My ma was a cook for the white folks how I come to know so much bout it all. Boys wore loose shirts till they was nine or ten years old. The shirt come to the calf of the leg. No belt.

"We had plenty common eating. They had a big garden and plenty milk. They cooked wid the eggs mostly. They would kill a beef and have a week of hog killing. They would kill the beef the hardest weather that come. The families cooked at night and on Sunday at the log cabins. They cook at night for all next day. The old men hauled wood.

"When I was a little boy I could hear men runnin' the slaves wid hounds in the mountains. The landmen paid paddyrollers to keep track of slaves. Keep em home day and night.

"We took turns bout going to white church. We go in washin' at the creek and put on clean clothes. She learned me a prayer. Old mistress learned me to say it nights I slept up at the house. I still can say it:

'Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the Lord my soul to keep
If I should die fo I wake
I pray the Lord my soul to take.'

"The slaves at our places had wheat straw beds. The white folks had fine goose feather beds. We had no idle days. Had a long time at dinner to rest and rest and water the teams. Sometimes we fed them. Old mistress had two peafowls roosted in the Colonial poplar trees. She had a pigeon house and a turkey house. I recken chicken and goose house, too. When company come you take em to see the farm, the garden, the new leather things jes' made and to see the little ducks, calves, and colts. Folks don't care bout seeing that now.

"The girls went to Florence to school. All I can recollect is them going off to school and I knowed it was Florence.

"The Yankees burned the big house. It was a fine house. Old mistress moved in the overseer's house. He was a white man. He moved somewhere else. The Yankees made raids and took 15 or 20 calves from her at one time. They set the tater house afire. They took the corn. Old mistress cried more on one time. The Yankees starved out more black faces than white at their stealing. After that war it was hard for the slaves to have a shelter and enough eatin' that winter. They died in piles bout after that August I tole you bout. Joe Innes was our overseer when the house burned.

"The Ku Klux come to my house twice. They couldn't get filled up wid water. They scared us to death. I heard a lot of things they done.

"I don't vote. I voted once in all my life fo some county officers.

"I been in Arkansas since February 5, 1880. I come to Little Cypress. I worked for Mr. Clark by the month, J.W. Crocton's place, Mr. Kitchen's place. I was brakeman on freight train awhile. I worked on the section. I farmed and worked in the timber. I don't have no children; I never been married. I wanted to work by the month all my life. I sells mats (shuck mats) $1.00 and I bottom chairs 50¢. The Social Welfare gives me $10.00. That is 10¢ a meal. That woman next door boards me--table board--for 50¢ a day. I make all I can outer fust one thing and another." (He is blind--cataracts.)

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Emma Barr, Madison, Arkansas Age: 65

"My parents belong to two people. Mama was born in Mississippi I think and papa come from North Carolina. Papa's master was Lark Hickerson. Mama was sold from Dr. Ware to Dr. Pope. She was grown when she was sold. She was the mother of twenty-seven children. She had twins three times.

"During the Civil War she was run from the Yankees and had twins on the road. They died or was born dead and she nearly died. They was buried between twin trees close to Hernando, Mississippi. Her last owner was Dr. Pope, ten miles south of Augusta, Arkansas. I was born there and raised up three miles south of Augusta, Arkansas.

"When mama was sold she left her people in Mississippi but after freedom her sisters, Aunt Mariah and Aunt Mary, come here to mama. Aunt Mariah had no children. Aunt Mary had four boys, two girls. She brought her children. Mama said her husband when Dr. Ware owned her was Maxwell but she married my papa after Dr. Pope bought her.

"Dr. Ware had a fine man he bred his colored house women to. They didn't plough and do heavy work. He was hostler, looked after the stock and got in wood. The women hated him, and the men on the place done as well. They hated him too. My papa was a Hickerson. He was a shoemaker and waited on Dr. Pope. Dr. Pope and Miss Marie was good to my parents and to my auntees when they come out here.

"I am the onliest one of mama's children living. Mama was sold on the block and cried off I heard them say when they lived at Wares in Mississippi. Mama was a house girl, Aunt Mary cooked and my oldest sister put fire on the skillet and oven lids. That was her job.

"Mama was lighter than I am. She had Indian blood in her. One auntee was half white. She was lighter than I am, had straight hair; the other auntee was real dark. She spun and wove and knit socks. Mama said they had plenty to eat at both homes. Dr. Pope was good to her. Mama went to the white folks church to look after the babies. They took the babies and all the little children to church in them days.

"Mama said the preachers told the slaves to be good and bedient. The colored folks would meet up wid one another at preaching same as the white folks. I heard my auntees say when the Yankees come to the house the mistress would run give the house women their money and jewelry and soon as the Yankees leave they would come get it. That was at Wares in Mississippi.

"I heard them talk about slipping off and going to some house on the place and other places too and pray for freedom during the War. They turned an iron pot upside down in the room. When some mens' slaves was caught on another man's place he was allowed to whoop them and send them home and they would git another whooping. Some men wouldn't allow that; they said they would tend to their own slaves. So many men had to leave home to go to war times got slack.

"It was Judge Martin that owned my papa before he was freed. He lived close to Augusta, Arkansas. When he was freed he lived at Dr. Pope's. He was sold in North Carolina. Dr. Pope and Judge Martin told them they was free. Mama stayed on with Dr. Pope and he paid her. He never did whoop her. Mama told me all this. She died a few years ago. She was old. I never heard much about the Ku Klux. Mama was a good speller. I was a good speller at school and she learned with us. I spelled in Webster's Blue Back Speller.

"We children stayed around home till we married off. I nursed nearly all my life. Me and my husband farmed ten years. He died. I don't have a child. I wish I did have a girl. My cousin married us in the church. His name was Andrew Baccus.

"After my husband died I went to Coffeeville, Kansas and nursed an old invalid white woman three years, till she died. I come back here where I was knowed. I'm keeping this house for some people gone off. Part of the house is rented out and I get $8 and commodities. I been sick with the chills."

Interviewer: S.S. Taylor Person interviewed: Robert Barr 3108 West 18th St. Little Rock, Ark. Age: 73 Occupation: Preaching

[HW: A Preacher Tells His Story]

"I am a minister of the Gospel. I have been preaching for the last thirty years. I am batching here. A man does better to live by himself. Young people got the devil in them now a days. Your own children don't want you around.

"I got one grand-daughter that ain't never stood on the floor. Her husband kicked her and hit her and she ain't never been able to stand up since. I got another daughter that ain't thinking about marrying. She just goes from one man to the other.

"The government gives me a pension. The white folks help me all along. Before I preached, I fiddled, danced, shot craps, did anything.

"My mother was born in Chickasaw, Mississippi. She was born a slave. Old man Barr was her master. She was a Lucy Appelin and she married a Barr. I don't know whether she stood on the floor and married them as they do now or not. They tell me that they just gave them to them in those days. My mother said that they didn't know anything about marriage then. They had some sort of a way of doing. Ol' Massa would call them up and say, 'You take that man, and go ahead. You are man and wife.' I don't care whether you liked it or didn't. You had to go ahead. I heard em say: 'Nigger ain't no more'n a horse or cow,' But they got out from under that now. The world is growing more and more civilized. But when a nigger thinks he is something, he ain't nothin'. White folks got all the laws and regulations in their hands and they can do as they please. You surrender under em and go along and you are all right. If they told a woman to go to a man and she didn't, they would whip her. You didn't have your own way. They would make you do what they wanted. They'd give you a good beating too.

"My father was born in Mississippi. His name was Simon Barr. My mother and father both lived on the same plantation. In all groups of people they went by their master's name. Before she married, my mother's master and mistress were Appelins. When she got married--got ready to marry--the white folks agreed to let them go together. Old Man Barr must have paid something for her. According to my mother and father, that's the way it was. She had to leave her master and go with her husband's master.

"According to my old father and mother, the Patteroles went and got the niggers when they did something wrong. They lived during slave time. They had a rule and government over the colored and there you are. When they caught niggers out, they would beat them. If you'd run away, they'd go and get you and beat you and put you back. When they'd get on a nigger and beat him, the colored folks would holler, 'I pray, Massa.' They had to have a great war over it, before they freed the nigger. The Bible says there is a time for all things.

"My mother and father said they got a certain amount when they was freed. I don't know how much it was. It was only a small amount. After a short time it broke up and they didn't get any more. I get ten dollars pension now and that is more than they got then.

"I heard Old Brother Page in Mississippi say that the slaves had heard em say they were going to be free. His young mistress heard em say he was going to be free and she walked up and hocked and spit in his face. When freedom came, old Massa came out and told them.

"I have heard folks talk of buried treasure. I'll bet there's more money under the ground than there is on it. They didn't have banks then, and they put their money under the ground. For hundreds of years, there has been money put under the ground.

"I heard my mother talk about their dances and frolics then. I never heard her speak of anything else. They didn't have much freedom. They couldn't go and come as they pleased. You had to have a script to go and come. Niggers ain't free now. You can't do anything; you got nothin'. This whole town belongs to white folks, and you can't do nothin'. If nigger get to have anything, white folks will take it.

"We raised our own food. We made our own flour. We wove our own cloth. We made our clothes. We made our meal. We made our sorghum cane molasses. Some of them made their shoes, made their own medicine, and went around and doctored on one another. They were more healthy then than they are now. This generation don't live hardly to get forty years old. They don't live long now.

"I came to Arkansas about thirty-five years ago. I got right into ditches. The first thing I did was farm. I farmed about ten years. I made about ten crops. Mississippi gave you more for your crops than Arkansas."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: Matilda Bass 1100 Palm Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age: 80

"Yes ma'am, I was eight years old when the Old War ceasted.

"Honey, I've lived here twenty years and I don't know what this street is.

"I was born in Greenville, Mississippi. They took my parents and carried 'em to Texas to keep 'em from the Yankees. I think they stayed three years 'cause I didn't know 'em when they come back.

"I 'member the Yankees come and took us chillun and the old folks to Vicksburg. I 'member the old man that seed after the chillun while their parents was gone, he said I was eight when freedom come. We didn't know nothin' 'bout our ages--didn't have 'nough sense.

"My parents come back after surrender and stayed on my owner's place--John Scott's place. We had three masters--three brothers.

"I been in Arkansas twenty years--right here. I bought this home.

"I married my husband in Mississippi. We farmed.

"The Lord uses me as a prophet and after my husband died, the Lord sent me to Arkansas to tell the people. He called me out of the church. I been out of the church now thirty-three years. Seems like all they think about in the churches now is money, so the Lord called me out."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Emmett Beal, Biscoe, Arkansas Age: 78

"I was born in Holloman County, Bolivar, Tennessee. Master Dr. Jim May owned my set er folks. He had two girls and two boys. I reckon he had a wife but I don't recollect seeing her. Ma suckled me; William May with me. Ely and Seley and Susie was his children.

"I churned for mama in slavery. She tied a cloth around the top so no flies get in. I better hadn't let no fly get in the churn. She take me out to a peach tree and learn me how to keep the flies outen the churn next time.

"Mama was Dr. May's cook. We et out the dishes but I don't know how all of 'em done their eating. They eat at their houses. Dr. May had a good size bunch of hands, not a big crowd. We had straw beds. Made new ones every summer. In that country they didn't 'low you to beat yo' hands up. I heard my folks say that more'n one time.

"Dr. May come tole 'em it was freedom. They could get land and stay--all 'at wanted to. All his old ones kept on wid him. They sharecropped and some of them got a third. I recollect him and worked for him.

"The Ku Klux didn't bother none of us. Dr. May wouldn't 'low them on his place.

"Mama come out here in 1880. I figured there better land out here and I followed her in 1881. We paid our own ways. Seem like the owners ought to give the slaves something but seem like they was mad 'cause they set us free. Ma was named Viney May and pa, Nick May.

"Pa and four or five brothers was sold in Memphis. He never seen his brothers no more. They come to Arkansas.

"Pa and Dr. May went to war. The Yankees drafted pa and he come back to Dr. May after he fit. He got his lip split open in the War. Dr. May come home and worked his slaves. He didn't stay long in war.

"I reckon they had plenty to eat at home. They didn't run to the stores every day 'bout starved to death like I has to do now. Ma said they didn't 'low the overseers to whoop too much er Dr. May would turn them off.

"Er horse stomped on my foot eight years ago. I didn't pay it much 'tention. It didn't hurt. Blood-p'ison come in it and they took me to the horsepital and my leg had to come off, (at the knee).

"We have to go back to Africa to vote all the 'lections. Voting brings up more hard feelings."

Interviewer: Pernella Anderson, colored.

_EX-SLAVES_

Yes I was born in slavery time. I was born September 2, 1862 in the field under a tree. I don't know nothing about slavery. I was too young to remember anything about slavery. But I tell you this much, times ain't like they used to be. There was easy living back in the 18 hundred years. People wore homemade clothes, what I mean homespun and lowell clothes. My ma spun and weaved all of her cloth. We wore our dresses down to our ankles in length and my dresses was called mother hubbards. The skirts had about three yards circumference and we wore plenty of clothes under our dress. We did not go necked like these folks do now. Folk did not know how we was made. We did not show our shape, we did not disgrace ourself back in 1800. We wore our hair wrapped and head rags tied on our head. I went barefooted until I was a young missie then I wore shoes in the winter but I still went barefooted in the summer. My papa was a shoemaker so he made our shoes. We raised everything that we ate when I was a chap. We ate a plenty. We raised plenty of whippowell peas. That was the only kind of peas there was then. We raised plenty Moodie sweet potatoes they call them nigger chokers now. We had cows so we had plenty of milk and butter. We cooked on the fireplace. The first stove I cooked on was a white woman's stove, that was 1890.

I never chanced to go to school because where we lived there wasn't no school. I worked all of the time. In fact that was all we knew. White people did not see where negroes needed any learning so we had to work. We lived on a place with some white people by the name of Dunn. They were good people but they taken all that was made because we did not know. I ain't never been sick in my life and I have never had a doctor in my life. I am in good health now.

We traveled horseback in the years of 1800. We did not ride straddle the horse's back we rode sideways. The old folks wore their dreses dragging the ground. We chaps called everybody old that married. We respected them because they was considered as being old. Time has made a change.

--Dina Beard, Douglas Addition.

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Annie Beck, West Memphis, Arkansas Age: 50

"I was born in Mississippi. Mama was born in Alabama and sold to Holcomb, Mississippi. Her owner was Master Beard. She was a field woman. They took her in a stage-coach. Their owner wanted to keep it a secret about freedom. But he had a brother that fussed with him all the time and he told the slaves they was all free. Mama said they was pretty good always to her for it to be slavery, but papa said his owners wasn't so good to him. He was sold in Richmond, Virginia to Master Thomas at Grenada, Mississippi. He was a plain farming man."

Interviewer: Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: J.H. Beckwith 619 North Spruce Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age: 68

"No ma'm I was not born in the time of slavery. I was sixty-eight last Friday. I was born November 18, 1870 in Johnson County, North Carolina.

"My mother was born in Georgia and her name was Gracie Barum. Father was born in North Carolina. His name was Rufus Beckwith. He belonged to Doctor Beckwith and mother, I think, belonged to Tom Barum. Barum was just an ordinary farmer. He was just a second or third class farmer--just poor white folks. I think my mother was the only slave he owned.

"My father had to walk seven miles every Saturday night to see my mother, and be back before sunrise Monday.

"My parents had at least three or four children born in slavery. I know my father said he worked at night and made shoes for his family.

"My father was a mulatto. He had a negro mother and a white father. He had a mechanical talent. He seemed to be somewhat of a genius. He had a productive mind. He could do blacksmithing, carpenter work, brick work and shoe work.

"Father was married twice. He raised ten children by each wife. I think my mother had fifteen children and I was the the thirteenth child. I am the only boy among the first set, called to the ministry. And there was one in the second set. Father learned to read and write after freedom.

"After freedom he sent my oldest brother and sister to Hampton, Virginia and they were graduated from Hampton Institute and later taught school. They were graduated from the same school Booker T. Washington was. He got his idea of vocational education there.

"I haven't had much education. I went as far as the eighth grade. The biggest education I have had was in the Conference.

"I joined the Little Rock General Conference at Texarkana in 1914. This was the Methodist Episcopal, North, and I was ordained as a deacon and later an elder by white bishops. Then in 1930 I joined the African Methodist.

"By trade I am a carpenter and bricklayer. I served an apprentice under my father and under a German contractor.

"I used to be called the best negro journeyman carpenter between Monroe, Louisiana and Little Rock, Arkansas.

"I made quite a success in my trade. I have a couple of United States Patent Rights. One is a brick mold holding ten bricks and used to make bricks of concrete. The other is a sliding door. (See attached drawings) [TR: Drawings missing.]

"I was in the mercantile business two and one-half years in Sevier County. I sold that because it was too confining and returned to the carpenter's trade. I still practice my trade some now.

"I have not had to ask help from anyone. I have helped others. I own my home and I sent my daughter to Fisk University where she was graduated. While there she met a young man and they were later married and now live in Chicago. They own their home and are doing well.

"In my work in the ministry I am trying to teach my people to have higher ideals. We have to bring our race to that high ideal of race integrity. I am trying to keep the negro from thinking he is hated by the upper class of white people. What the negro needs is self-consciousness to the extent that he aspires to the higher principles in order to stand on an equal plane in attainment but not in a social way.

"At present, the negro's ideals are too low for him to visualize the evils involved in race mixture. He needs to be lifted in his own estimation and learn that a race cannot be estimated by other races--by anything else but their own ideals.

"The younger generation is off on a tangent. They'll have to hit something before they stop.

"The salvation of our people--of all people--white and colored, is leadership. We've got to have vision and try to give the people vision. Not to live for ourselves but for all. The present generation is selfish. The life should flow out and as it flows out it makes room for more life. If it does not flow out, it congeals and ferments. Selfishness is just like damming a stream.

"I think Woodrow Wilson won the World War with his fourteen points of democracy. If the people of foreign countries had not that old imperialism sentiment, the Jew would not be where he is today."

Interviewer's Comment

This man is the best informed and most sensible negro I have interviewed. In the room where I interviewed him, were a piano, a radio, many ferns, a wool rug, chairs, divan, and a table on which were books including a set of the Standard History of the World. I asked if he had read the history and he replied, "Not all of it but I have read the volumes pertaining to the neolithic age."

On the walls were several pictures and two tapestries.

The house was a good frame one and electric current was used.

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Enoch Beel; Green Grove, Hazen, Arkansas Age: 79

"Yes maam I was born a slave, born in slavery times. I wer born in Hardman County, Tennessee. My own daddy was a Union soldier and my mama was a cook fer the mistress. We belonged to Miss Viney and Dr. Jim Mass. My daddy drawed a pension fer bein a soldier till he die. He went off to wait on some men he know. Then he met some men wanted him to join the army. They said then he get paid and get a bounty. No maam he never got a red cent. He come back broke as he went off. He say he turned loose soon as he could and mustered out and lef them right now. He had no time to ax em no questions. That what he said! We stayed on that place till I was big nuf to do a days work. We had no other place to go. There was plenty land and no stock. Houses to stay in got scarce. If a family had a place to stay at when that war ended he counted hisself lucky I tell you. Heap of black an white jes ramlin round through the woods an over the roads huntin a little to eat or a little sumpin to do. If you stay in the field workin about puttin back the fences an round yo own house you wouldn't be hurt.

"The Ku Kluxes war not huntin work theirselves. They was keepin order at the gatherins and down the public roads. Folks had came toted off all the folks made in the crops till they don't call nuthin stealin'. They whooped em and made em ride on rails. I don't know all the carrings on did take place. I sho would been scared if I seed em comin to me. We left Dr. Mass and went to Grain, Tennessee. I had three sisters and half-brothers. I don't remember how many, some dead. I farmed all my life. Everybody said the land was so much better and newer out in Arkansas. When I married I come to Tomberlin and worked fer Sam Dardnne bout twelve years. Then I rented from Jim Hicks at England. I rented from one of the Carlley boys and Jim Neelam. When I very fust come here I worked at Helena on a farm one year. When I got my leg taken off it cost bout all I ever had cumlated. I lives on my sister's place. Henry Bratcher's wife out at Green Grove. The Wellfare give me $8 cause I caint get bout.

"I don't know bout the times. It is so unsettled. Folks want work caint get it and some won't work that could. You caint get help so you can make a crop of your own no more, fer sometimes is close."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Sophie D. Belle, Forrest City, Arkansas Age: 77

"I was born near Knoxville, Georgia. My mother was a professional pastry cook. She was a house woman during slavery. She was owned by Lewis Hicks and Ann Hicks. They had Saluda, Mary, Lewis, and Oscar.

"Mother was never sold. Mr. Hicks reared her. She was three-fourths Indian. Her father was George Hicks. Gordon carried him to Texas. Mr. Bob Gordon was mean. He asked Mr. Hicks to keep mother and auntie while he went to Texas, Mr. Gordon was so mean. My mother had two little girls but my sister died while small.

"I never saw any one sold. I never saw a soldier. But I noticed the grown people whispering many times. Mother explained it to me, they had some news from the War. Aunt Jane said she saw them pass in gangs. I heard her say, 'Did you see the soldiers pass early this morning?' I was asleep. Sometimes I was out at play when they passed.

"Master Hicks called us all up at dinner one day to the big house. He told us, 'You are free as I am.' I never had worked any then. No, they cried and went on to their homes. Aunt Jane was bad to speak out, she was so much Indian. She had three children. She went to another place to live. She was in search of her husband and thought he might be there at Ft. Valley.

"Mother stayed on another year. Mr. Hicks was good to us. None of the children ever worked till they was ten or twelve years old. He had a lot of slaves and about twenty-five children on the place growing. He had just a big plantation. He had a special cook, Aunt Mariah, to cook for the field hands. They eat like he did. Master Hicks would examine their buckets and a great big split basket. If they didn't have enough to eat he would have her cook more and send to them. They had nice victuals to eat. He had a bell to ring for all the children to be put to bed at sundown and they slept late. He said, 'Let them grow.' Their diet was milk and bread and eggs. We had duck eggs, guinea eggs, goose eggs, and turkey eggs.

"I don't know what all the slaves had but mother had feather beds. They saved all kind of feathers to make pillows and bed and chair cushions. We always had a pet pig about our place. Master Hicks kept a drove of pea-fowls. He had cows, goats, sheep. We children loved the lambs. Elvira attended to the milk. She had some of the girls and boys to milk. Uncle Dick, mother's brother, was Mr. Hicks' coachman. He was raised on the place too.

"I think Master Hicks and his family was French, but, though they were light-skin people. They had light hair too, I think.

"One day a Frenchman (white) that was a doctor come to call. My Aunt Jane said to me, 'He is your papa. That is your papa.' I saw him many times after that. I am considered eight-ninth white race. One little girl up at the courthouse asked me a question and I told her she was too young to know about such sin. (This girl was twenty-four years old and the case worker's stenographer.)

"Master Hicks had Uncle Patrick bury his silver and gold in the woods. It was in a trunk. The hair and hide was still on the trunk when the War ceased. He used his money to pay the slaves that worked on his place after freedom.

"I went to school to a white man from January till May and mother paid him one dollar a month tuition. After I married I went to school three terms. I married quite young. Everyone did that far back.

"I married at Aunt Jane's home. We got married and had dinner at one or two o'clock. Very quiet. Only a few friends and my relatives. I wore a green wool traveling dress. It was trimmed in black velvet and black beads. I married in a hat. At about seven o'clock we went to ny husband's home at Perry, Georgia. He owned a new buggy. We rode thirty miles. We had a colored minister to marry us. He was a painter and a fine provider. He died. I had no children.

"I came to Forrest City 1874. There was three dry-goods and grocery stores and two saloons here--five stores in all. I come alone. Aunt Jane and Uncle Sol had migrated here. My mother come with me. There was one railroad through here. I belong to the Baptist church.

"I married the second time at Muskogee, Oklahoma. My husband lived out there. He was Indian-African. He was a Baptist minister. We never had any children. I never had a child. They tell me now if I had married dark men I would maybe had children. I married very light men both times.

"I washed and ironed, cooked and kept house. I sewed for the public, black and white. I washed and ironed for Mrs. Grahan at Crockettsville twenty-three years and three months. I inherited a home here. Owned a home here in Forrest City once. I live with my cousin here. He uses that house for his study. He is a Baptist minister. (The church is in front of their home--a very nice new brick church--ed.) I'm blind now or I could still sew, wash and iron some maybe.

"I get eight dollars from the Social Welfare. I do my own cooking in the kitchen. I am seventy-seven years old. I try to live as good as my age. Every year I try to live a little better, 'A little sweeter as the years go by.'"

Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor Person interviewed: Cyrus Bellus 1320 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas Age: 73

[HW: Made Own Cloth]

"I was born in Mississippi in 1865 in Jefferson County. It was on the tenth of March. My father's name was Cyrus Bellus, the same as mine. My mother's name was Matilda Bellus.

"My father's master was David Hunt. My father and mother both belonged to him. They had the same master. I don't know the names of my grandfather and mother. I think they were Jordons. No, I know my grandmother's name was Annie Hall, and my grandfather's name was Stephen Hall. Those were my mother's grandparents. My father's father was named John Major and his mother was named Dinah Major. They belonged to the Hunts. I don't know why the names was different. I guess he wasn't their first master.

Slave Sales, Whippings, Work

"I have heard my folks talk about how they were traded off and how they used to have to work. Their master wouldn't allow them to whip his hands. No, it was the mistress that wouldn't allow them to be whipped. They had hot words about that sometimes.

"The slaves had to weave cotton and knit sox. Sometimes they would work all night, weaving cloth, and spinning thread. The spinning would be done first. They would make cloth for all the hands on the place.

"They used to have tanning vats to make shoes with too. Old master didn't know what it was to buy shoes. Had a man there to make them.

"My father and mother were both field hands. They didn't weave or spin. My grandmother on my mother's side did that. They were supposed to pick--the man, four hundred pounds of cotton, and the woman three hundred. And that was gittin' some cotton. If they didn't come up to the task, they was took out and give a whipping. The overseer would do the thrashing. The old mistress and master wouldn't agree on that whipping.

Fun