Chapter VI: Part 6

"Dar warnt none er de white folks in dem slabery times whut wud let dey niggers hab any learnin. Yo sho better not be cotch er tryin ter learn no readin er writin. Our Marster neber eben lowed dat, en iffen er nigger wus ter be foun whut cud write, den right straight dey wud chop his fore finger offen dat han whut he write wid. Dar warnt no sich er thing es no schools fer de niggers till atter de surrender.

"Endurin er de war, dar warnt no fightin tuk place roun whar us libed, en de onliest Yankees dat I eber seed wus in Greenville atter de surrender. I sho wus sprized when I seed dem Yankees, kass I neber knowed whut sort er lookin thing dat er Yankee wus. No Sir, Cap'n, I neber knowed dat er Yankee wus er man jes lak my white folks till I seed dem in Greenville, but yo know Cap'n er Yankee looks jes lak yo is, only he do talk funny en fast, mo so dan de kine er white folks dat I is always been er roun.

"Dar warnt nary one er old Marsters niggers whut lef him eben when dey set free, dat is dey did'n lebe him fer two er three years eny way, but atter den sum of em started ter driftin er roun en hirin er roun er bout. When de surrender cum, Old Marster tole em all dat dey free en kin go iffen dey want ter go, en effen dey want ter go dat he gib em sum grub ter go on. Marster wus er good man en iffen he war libin ter day, I wud sho quit dis place en go on wid him, whar-sum-eber he want me ter go.

"No Sir, Cap'n, de niggers dey did'n know what de war wus gwine on fer, en dey did'n know dat dey free till dere marsters tole em, whilst dey wus wantin ter be free all right. Atter us wus free, de white folks hab ter teach us jes lak yo teach er chile.

"Dem Klu Klux whut dey brought on atter de surrender wus sho pizen. Dey wus white mens. Dats whut dey wus, en all dressed up in dem long white garments wid er red cross on em en ridin er big hoss. Dey wus atter dem niggers whut dey claim is mean en zerted dey marsters en went en tuk up wid de Yankees. When dem Klu Klux fust cum in operation de niggers think dat dey is hants er spirits, till dey fine out dat dey warnt nuthin but white mens wid dem garments on em. Dem Klux wud cotch er nigger dat dey want en pin he haid down ter de groun wid er forked stick en one wud hold him whilst de others whip im wid er strop er a lash. Yes sir, Cap'n, dem Klu Klux sho did dis-encourage de niggers er heap.

"Plenty er de white mens whut wus mustered in ter de war wud tek er nigger wid em ter wait on em en ter tend ter de hosses en de sich eber whut dey want done, en I sho did want ter go wid Marse Hampton, en mebbe dat I cud tek care of im. Marse Hampton want me ter go wid him too en try ter swade Old Marster ter let me go, but Old Marster sey dat he hab ter hab me dar at home ter help mek de crops so's dat he kin send corn en meat ter de sojers. De day dat Marse Hampton lebe, he cum down ter de quarters fer ter tell all de niggers good-bye, en he sey ter me 'Abe,' he called me Abe, 'I gwine off ter dat war en kill out dat whole crowd er Yankees, en den I'se cumin bak en gwine ter Georgia en buy me er farm whar I kin git rich mekin cotton en terbakker. Yo know yo is my nigger en yo gwine ter Georgia wid me, when I goes'. Hit sho did hurt me when Marse Hampton got kilt kase I lubed dat white man. He wus good ter me.

"In my dreams at night I kin yit see Marse Hampton, en er heap er times in de day when I is by myself er hoein de cotton he talks ter me plain so's I kin understand, en he ax me iffin I is yit en still er good nigger, en tell me ter not be dis-encouraged. Cap'n de Bible is right when hit sey dat, 'De young mens dream dreams en de old uns see de visions'.

"I kin jes natchally feel spirits, Cap'n, I sho don't spute dat. I is skeered ter spute hit. When yo is gwine long de road en feel sum warm air, den dat is whar de spirits hes jes been. De wings er de daid has done fanned dat air till hits hot, en when I is gwine er long en hits dat hot air, den I knows dat sum spirit er hant hes been er long dat same route, kase hit sho is hants in dis worl, yit en still dey don't walk en act lak natchal people.

"Yes Sir, Cap'n, I kin tell yo sum er dem old songs whut de niggers used ter sing in de slabery times. Dis is sum of em:"

Black Judy wus er good gal,
En Black Judy wus er bad gal too.

Mus Jesus bear de cross alone
and all de worl go free?
Oh Brother don't stay away
Oh Blackslider, don't stay away.

My old Mistis promised me
dat when she died, she gwine set me free,
But she lived so long en got so po
dat she lef me diggin wid er garden ho.

Wheel er bout en do er bout
en jump Jim Crow.
Ebery time I do er bout
I do jes so.

Yo can't do wrong en git by
no matter how hard yo try.
Yo kin do lak you please
en feel at yo ease
But you can't do wrong en git by.

MAY 31 1938
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Betty Harris
Brinkley, Arkansas
Age: About 45 or 50?

"My parents wus both in the Civil War. He was Levi Berthy and she was Misson Berthy. Mid Hill was mother's owner. She said he was better to them than most owners. He never whooped 'em. Mother was real light and father was dark. I was born in Pinola County, Mississippi. I had a stroke five years ago. I can't walk a step for two years now. My parents didn't let us hear them talk, they sent us out to play, then they died before they got old. I never heard much of their own lives. I live with my daughter and her husband. I don't get Welfare aid."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Mary Harris
713 N. Plum Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 82

"I was born right here in Arkansas and I remember they was havin' somethin'. I remember when they taken this town (Pine Bluff). The people what owned me was the parson of the Methodist church--Parson Walsh. Yes ma'm I knowed the Union soldiers was dressed in blue and the Secessors was called Greybacks. My father was with the Yankee soldiers. I don't know how he got with em but I know he was gone away from this town three years. He come back here after he was mustered out in Vicksburg.

"I remember the Yankee soldiers come and took the colored folks away if they wanted to go. That was after surrender. They carried us to the 'county band' and fed us.

"I know the day the Yankees taken Pine Bluff; it was on Sunday and Marse Jesse went to services. The Secessor soldiers left Pine Bluff. Of course I didn't understand what it was all about cause in them times people didn't enlighten children like they does now. They know everything now, ain't no secrets.

"Most work I've done is washin' and ironin' since I been a full-grown, married woman. I was twenty some odd when I was married. I know I was out of my teens.

"I went to school a good while after the war. My first teacher was Mr. Todd from the North.

"I used to do right smart sewing. I did sewing before machines come to this town. The frocks they used to make had from five to ten yards.

"We is livin' now in a time of worry. What they is doin' is told about in the scripture."

DEC 21 1937
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Rachel Harris
816½ E. Fifth, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 90

"I reekolect when the war started. I was big enuf to be totin' water, sweepin', feedin' chickens. I was a big chap when it started. I went with the white chillun and watched the soldiers marchin'. The drums was playin' and the next thing I heered, the war was gwine on. You could hear the guns just as plain. The soldiers went by just in droves from soon of a mornin' till sundown. They said they was goin' to head off the Yankees. Dis fore the war ended I heered en say they was gwine to free the colored folks. That was in Mississippi.

"My old master was Jim Smith and old mistress' name was Louisa Smith.

"I had many a whip put on me. When they wasn't whippin' me the chillun was. They whipped my mother and everybody.

"My brother Lewis went plum through the war till surrender. He waited on a Rebel soldier--cooked and washed for him. I never did see no white Yankee soldiers but I seed the colored soldiers with the blue suits. I stood out many a night and day and heered them guns.

"Jim Smith had near bout a hundred head of colored folks on his place. He didn't go to war--he just seed that all the white women had plenty to eat while their men folks was away.

"My mother was sold away from my father long 'fore I was born. He used to come to visit, but a little while 'fore I was born they stopped him and wouldn't let him come no more.

"After surrender one of my brothers come home and say the war was over.

"We stayed there three years after surrender. They paid my mother and stepfather but they wouldn't pay us chillun nothin', so my mother sent me to town to live with my sister.

"I hired out as a nurse girl and them white folks just as good to me as could be. She paid me $3 a month and give me all my clothes. I was young and didn't have no sense, but all I didn't spend on candy I sent to my mother.

"In slavery times the white folks had a servant to comb the hair and lift up the dress. Yes ma'm, they had servants. I sho was glad they had that war and freed me.

"Yes, Jesus, I seen them Ku Klux. I member once we had a big ball. We was cuttin' a dash that night. The Ku Klux come and made out they was dead. Some of the folks run they was so scared, but one woman come out and said she knowed every one of the men. She knowed em by their hosses. Next mornin' we went by old Purvis Newman's house and it looked like they was a hundred saddles layin' out in the yard. I was a young woman then and sparkin' fit to kill. Yes ma'm I member all about it. I reekolect it just as well as I can walk out that door.

"My son wrote me bout eight years ago and say, 'Mama, you is might near a hunderd.' My daughter, my baby chile, is bout sixty-three.

"About this younger generation, I don't know what to think. Some say the devil loose 'for a season.' I say if he ain't loose, he tied mighty slack."

FOLKLORE SUBJECTS

Little Rock District
Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson
Subject: TALES [HW: Superstitions and Charms]
Story--Information (If not enough space on this page add page)

When she was a child she remembered white children and colored playing "No Boogerman Tonight." One would catch the others as they ran from behind big trees. Then whoever he caught would be the boogerman, till he caught somebody else.

* * * * *

They made ash cakes and put black walnuts in it. It was just as good as crackling bread which was made from rendering lard. They made molasses candy and pulled it at the Master's house during Christmas.

* * * * *

Mothers combed their children's hair Sunday and wrapped it, sometimes had dyed string.

The Master had a mule named Beck. Only one on the farm could tend old Beck. He would buck and kick. Sometimes he would run and he would lope if you "hitched" him to a buggy. When freedom came the master studied who would tend old Beck so he gave him to Jack. Jack felt so free as he rode from the farm out into the big world all his own and no place to go. In about a year Jack sent a letter back by somebody to the Master. "I want you to send me $2.00 of your own money. My wife has gone raving destracted. My mule is dead. I am pestered and bothered. I bound you."

* * * * *

Will said there used to be witches when somebody got mad with somebody they would bewitch the cows. You couldn't get the butter to come no matter how long you churned and sometimes a bewitched cow would come up and give bloody milk. If you keep plenty salt around in the troughs the witches wouldn't come about so much.

* * * * *

If you carry a rabbit foot in your pocket it will bring you good luck. If you find anything pointed with point toward you, that is a sign of good luck. If you put your shirt or dress on wrong side out, don't change it. Thats good luck for the day.

* * * * *

Don't start to sew a piece of goods on Friday unless you are sure you can get it done before night for that is bad luck.

* * * * *

This information given by: Rachel Harris
Place of Residence: Green Grove, Hazen, Arkansas
Occupation: Field.--Lives with her daughter.
AGE: 80

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person Interviewed: William Harris
DeValls Bluff, Ark.
Age: 75 or 80

"I was born in Chetam County close to Nashville, Tennessee. Our master was named Joe Harris. His wife was Miss Sallie Harris. They had eight children. I knowed Newt, Tom and Kittie. My mother had nine children. Her name was Julia. My papa's name was Isom Harris. I think they belong to the same family of white folks. Granny was old woman looked after white children. See if any of em got sick. She seen after little nigger children too. Mama was a field hand like papa. After war Plummer Harris went on off. He was cruel to his wife and grown folks but good to the children. We had good houses and plenty wood but the feed was light.

"I seen the Yankees riding through the country. They looked pretty, 'specially them on white horses. My papa and mama left. Mama died with pneumonia. Papa died, too. We had a mighty hard time after freedom and before too. Papa worked about on shares--hired out on jobs.

"When freedom come on we went on and they didn't think to give us nothing. When the hands all left they had the land and nobody to work. They was land pore. It was tore up. Fences down, houses down, and nothing to be raised to eat in the winter.

"When I got bigger I helped build the North Western Railroad into Nashville. I made right smart of money. I was building up the track bed. I farmed, worked on the section. I delivered here till my feet got in bad fix.

"I got thirteen children in all. Some in Tennessee by my first wife and some here and some grandchildren.

"Folks won't work like I used to work. It ain't no use to be 'larmed bout the times--they been changing since the world started--still changing. If you able it is best to go hunt work and be at a job working.

"I heard about the Ku Klux, they never troubled us. I seen em. I was scared of em.

"I get commodities and a check for us three old folks. My wife washes and irons.

"I got a bunion on one foot and raw sores on top of my toes. It won't cure up. Both feet in bad shape. My wife had both her legs broke. We doing very well."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: William H. Harrison
Forrest City, Arkansas
Age: Over 100

"I was born March 4, 1832 in Richmond, Virginia. Master Anderson Harrison was a cousin to Benjamin Harrison, the twenty-third President of the United States. Master Anderson Harrison was my owner. I was a personal attendant of his young son and when I reached manhood I was the carriage boy. I did all the driving on all the trips the young people of the family took. My memories of slave days was my easiest days. Slavery was pleasant for me. My owner's wife was named Ann. The son was Gummel L. Harrison. I went with him to war. I was his servant in the battle-field till we fought at Gettysburg and Manassas Gap. Then I was captured at Bulls Gap and brought to Knoxville, Tennessee and made a soldier. I was in the War three and one half years. They had us going to school. They had Yankee teachers in the army. All the schooling I ever got. I was mustered out at Chattanooga, Tennessee.

"My parents was Julia Ann Hodge and Cairo Hodge. I don't know my mother's last owners. When I was about eight years old I was sold to Ben Cowen. When I was thirteen years old I was sold to Master Anderson Harrison. My brothers Sam and Washington never were sold. Me and Sam Hodge, my brother, was in the War together. We struck up and knowed one another. A man bought mama that lived at Selma, Alabama. I never seen her ag'in to know her. After I was mustered out I went to Birmingham where she was drove and sold in search of her. I heard she was taken to Selma. I went there. I give out hunting for her. It was about dusk. I saw a woman standing in the door. I asked her to tell me where I could stay. She said, 'You can stay here tonight.' I went in, hung my overcoat up. I started to the saloon. I met her husband with a basket on his arm coming home. I told him who I was. We went to get a drink. I offered him sherry but he took whiskey. I got a pint of brandy, two apples, two oranges, for his wife and two little boys. I spent two nights there and two and a half days there, with my own mother but neither of us knew it then.

"Fourteen years later Wash wrote to me giving me the address. I told him about this and he said it was mama. He told her about it. She jumped up and shouted and fell dead. I never seen her but that one time after I was sold the first time. I was about eight years old then. She had eighteen of us boys and one girl, Diana, and then the half-brothers I seen at Selma. I had eleven brothers took off in a drove at one time and sold. They was older than I was. I don't know what become of them. I never seen my papa after I was sold. Diana died in Knoxville, Tennessee after freedom. I seen better times in slavery than I've ever seen since but I don't believe in slave traffic--that being sold.

"I was with my young master till my capture. That was my part in freedom. I was forced to fight by the Yankees then in the Union army. I was with General Grant when Lee surrendered at Appomattox. That was freedom. After the War I come to Arkansas and settled at Madison. My hardships started. I got married the first thing.

"This is how good my owners was to me. He sent me to Hendersonville, North Carolina (Henderson?) to learn to fiddle. I was so afraid of the old colored teacher I learned in a month about all he could play. I played for parties in eight states in slavery. All up in the North. They trained children to dance then. I took Martha Jane, Easter Ann, Jane Daniel, my young mistresses and their mother's sisters, Emma and Laura, to parties and dances all time. We went to Ashville, North Carolina to a big party. While they was having fine victuals after the dance they sent me out a plate of turnip greens and turnips, fat meat and corn bread. I took it and set it down. When Miss Martha Jane got in sight I took her to our carriage. She said, 'Empty it to the dogs,' and give me one dollar fifty cents and told me to go to town and buy my supper. I was treated same as kin folks. I et and drunk same as they had to use. After freedom I fixed up twice to move back to my young master. Once he sent me three hundred fifty dollars to move on. Betty fell off the porch and broke her thigh. That ended my hopes of going back. Betty was my first wife. I had seven children by her and one by my second wife and this wife ain't had none. She's been married twice though.

"I got one boy in Virginia seventy-three years old and one boy sixty-eight years old. My boys are scattered. One lives here. I don't hear from them now.

"After the War I come to Madison. It was a thriving little river town surrounded on all sides by wilderness. There were thousands of Indians camped in the neighboring woods. There was nothing but wooded hills where Forrest City now stands.

"When General Nathan Bedford Forrest built the cut between Forrest City and Madison for the road, I was his cook and the first fireman to make the run through the cut. I used to drive a stagecoach over the Old Military Road through Pine Tree on the stage run from Memphis to Little Rock.

"Game was the nicest thing the country afforded. I killed bear and other wild game on sites where Marianna, Wynn, and Jonesboro now stand. Where this house now is was a lake then. (West part of town on north side of the railroad track.) They caught fish in it then.

"When I heard Benjamin Harrison had been elected President of the United States, I asked Mr. George Lewis to write to him for me. I was working for him then. I handled freight at the depot for him. He was dubious of me knowing such a person but wrote it to please me. A few weeks a reply come to our letter and a ticket.

"I got my fiddle and went and visited two weeks. I et at the same table with the President. I slept in the White House. We et out of skillets together when I was a little boy and drunk out of the same cups. Me and him and Gummel raised up together. I played for the President and his Cabinet.

"Twice more I went and it cost me nothing. I played for big balls. My young master sent me my gold name plate. (It is heart shaped with his name, birth and birthplace--ed.) I been wearing it on my watch chain a long time. It is my charm. Mr. Lewis was so glad when I got my letter and ticket. He was good to me.

"I have voted. I voted a Republican ticket because it hope the party out that freed my race. Some white men told me they burnt up a lot of our votes. I never seen it done. I can't see to fool with voting.

"The colored folks are seeing a worse time now than in slavery times. There is two sides to it. The Bible say they get weaker and wiser. I did read before I got blind. I get a Federal pension of one hundred dollars a month. I'm thankful for it."

Interviewer's Comment

He has trouble talking. One lung is affected. He is deaf. He is blind. He said he was wounded caused his lung trouble. Seems to me old age. He isn't very feeble in the house. Their house was clean and he and his wife, also born in slavery, looked clean.

Interviewer: Bernice Bowden
Person Interviewed: Laura Hart
Eleventh & Orange St., Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 85

"I just can't tell you when I was born cause I don't know. My mother said I was born on Christmas Eve morning. I'm a old woman. I was big enough to work in slave times.

"Yes ma'am. I member when the war started. I was born in Arkansas. I'm a Arkansas Hoosier. You know I had to have some age on me to work in slave times.

"I pulled corn, picked cotton and drive the mule at the gin. Just walked behind him all day. I've pulled fodder, pulled cotton stalks, chopped down corn stalks. I never worked in the house when I was a child while I was under the jurisdiction of the white folks.

"My old master was Sam Carson and his wife was named Phoebe Carson, boy named Andrew and a daughter named Mary and one named Rosie.

"We had plenty to eat and went to church on Sunday. After the white folks had their services we went in. The church was on his place right across the river. That's where I was when freedom taken place.

"When the war started--I remember that all right--cause when they was gettin' started old master sent a colored man to take his son's place in the war.

"I was born up here at Fort Smith and brought here to Jefferson County and sold--my mother and three chillun.

"Now wait--I'm goin' to give you the full history. My father's mother was a white woman from the North and my father was a colored man. Her folks run her here to Arkansas and she stayed with her brother till my father was nine months old and then she went back North and my papa stayed with his uncle.

"When his uncle died he willed my papa his place. He had it recorded at the cotehouse in Little Rock that my papa was a free man. But he couldn't stay in Arkansas free, so he just rambled 'till he found old man Carson and my mother. He offered to buy my mother but old master wouldn't sell her so he stayed with old man Carson till they was all free.

"My white folks was tollable fair--they didn't beat up the people.

"My mother was as bright as you are. She could sit on her hair. Her mother was a Creole and her father was a Frenchman. After freedom they would a killed my father if it hadn't been for old Sam Carson, cause they thought my mother was a white woman, she was so bright.

"Ku Klux? The Lord have mercy! I remember them. They came and surrounded the house, hundreds of em. We had a loose plank in the floor and we'd hide under the floor with the dogs and stay there, too, till they'd gone.

"My father was a gambler. He gambled and farmed. My mother was a Christian woman. When I got big enough to know anything, she was a Christian woman.

"I married when I was fourteen. We lived at a place called 'Wildcat.' Didn't have no school. Nothin' up there but saloons and gambling.

"Then we moved to what they called the Earl Wright place. I had four chillun--three boys and one girl. Most of my work was in the field.

"I been here in Pine Bluff gwine on seventy-one years. You know--I knowed this town when they wasn't but one store and two houses. I'm a old woman--I ain't no baby.

"Honey, I even remember when the Indians was run out o' this town!

"Well, I done telled you all I know. In my comin' up, the colored people didn't have time to study bout the chillun's ages."

#715
Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden
Person interviewed: Hatty Haskell
1416 W. Pullen, Pine Bluff, Arkansas
Age: 85

"Yes'm, I reckon I was about twelve when the Civil War ended. Oh, I could nurse a little.

"No ma'am, I wasn't born in Arkansas. I was born in Tennessee, but I was brought here when I was a baby. Come here before the war. The old master had sold 'em.

"We was bought by Will Nichols. You ever hear of this here Dick Lake? Well, that's the place.

"They taken my father and my sister to Texas and stayed till after freedom. My mother was sick and they didn't carry her and I was too little, so they left me. They was pretty good to us as far as I know.

"I remember when the Yankees come through. Oh, yes'm, I was scared. I used to hide under the bed. I wouldn't give 'em a chance to talk to me.

"Our folks stayed on the Nichols' place about two years. Then they farmed on the shares till he got able to buy him a mule, then he rented.

"After the war the cholera disease come along. My mother and sister died with it.

"Somebody said if you would hang up some beef outdoors between the road and the house, it would stop the disease. I know old master hung up about a half a quarter and it seemed to work. The meat would turn green.

"The Yankees took things to eat but the Rebels would take the women's clothes--and the men's too. I guess they just took 'em 'cause they could.

"Biggest work I've done is farm work.

"My daddy said I was sixteen when I married. I had thirteen children but they ain't all livin'.

"I remember when they said they was free. Some of the folks left the place and never come back and some of 'em stayed.

"Sometimes I had a pretty good time and sometimes pretty tough.

"I'm gettin' along all right now. I stay here with my son part of the time and then I go to the country and stay with my daughter."

#786
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Matilda Hatchett
424 W. Twenty-Fifth Street, North Little Rock,
Arkansas
Age: Between 98 and 100

"I was born right here in Arkansas about nine miles from Dardanelles (Dardanelle) in Sevier County. I think it's Sevier. No, it was Yell County. Yell County, that's it. You put the Dardanelles there and if they get that they'll get the Yell part. Can't miss Yell if you get Dardanelles.

"I wish I could get holt of some of my old white folks. Maybe you can find 'em for me. There's one big policeman here looks like them but I don't know whether he is or not. The first white owners that I knowed was Jackie George in South Carolina. That is where I heard them talkin' about him comin' from. I wasn't born there; I was born here. I wasn't born when he come from South Carolina. His wife was named Nealie. He was just like a ole shoe. Never whipped me but one time in my life.

"I'll tell you about it. This is what they whipped me for. Me and my brother, Sam, had to water the horses. I didn't have to go with Sam, but I was big enough to do that. We had one ole horse named John--big ole horse. I would have to git up on a ten-rail fence to git on him. One day I was leading ole John back and I got tired of walking. So when I come to a ten-rail fence, I got up on ole John. I got up on 'im backwards and I didn't have hold of no bridle nor nothin' because I was lookin' at his tail.

"The others got back there before they did. Ole master said to them, 'Where's Tillie?'

"They said to him, 'She's comin', leadin' ole John.'

"Atter a while they saw me comin', an' one of 'em said, 'There's Tillie now.'

"An' 'nother one, 'Man, she's sittin' on the horse backwards.' And ole John was amblin' along nippin' the grass now an' then with his bridle draggin' and me sittin' up on his back facin' his tail and slippin' and slidin' with every step.

"Ole John was gentle. But they were scairt he would throw me off. Ole missis come out the gate and met him herself, 'cause she was 'fraid the others would 'cite him and make him throw me down. She gentled him and led him up to ole master. They was careful and gentle till they got me off that horse, and then ole master turned and lit into me and give me a brushin'.

"That's the only whippin' he ever give me. But that didn't do me no good. Leastwise, it didn't stop me from ridin' horses. I rode ole John ever chance I could git. But I didn't ride him backwards no more."

Dresses

"We used to wear homespun dresses. I have spun a many a yard and wove it. Did you ever see a loom? I used to have a wheel, and my children tore it up some way or 'nother. I still have the cards. We done our own knittin' and spun our own thread and knitted our socks and stockings."

Houses

"The white folks lived in pretty good houses and we did too. They lived in big log houses. The white folks' houses had piazzas between the rooms. That Haney didn't build them houses. His daddy, Tim Haney, built 'em. The Haneys come in by Tim bein' Thad's father. Thad married Jackie George's daughter--Louisa George. George was her daddy and Haney was her husband.

"There were four rooms besides the piazza. On one side, there was a big room built out of lumber. On the other side, there was a big room that a doctor lived in. There was a great big kitchen west of the piazza. The kitchen was about fifteen by fifteen. I know it was that large because we'd all eat at the same time. The old man, Tim, owned about thirty niggers. After he died they were all divided out among the boys. Every boy took his part of the land and his part of the niggers. But I wasn't at his house then. I was livin' with ole Jackie George. The white folks hadn't moved together then.

"But I went to ole Tim Haney's funeral. The old white woman fainted and they rubbed her with camphor and stuff and had her layin' out there. I wasn't old enough to cry over him and wouldn't anyhow because I didn't care nothin' much about him. But I would have cried for my ole master though, because I really loved him."

Soldiers

"I saw the soldiers when they come through our place. The first start of us noticin' them was this. I was always up to the white folks' house. Thad was goin' back to the Rebel army. Ole master tole my dad to go git 'im a hat. He'd got 'im one and was ridin' back with Thad's hat on on top of his'n. Before he could git back, here come a man jus' a ridin'.

"Thad was eatin'. He look out, and then he throwed his head back and said, 'Them's the Federals.'

"Thad finished his breakfast and then he ran on out and got with the Federals. He didn't join 'em. He jus' fooled 'em. The bridge was half a mile from our house and the Yankee army hadn't near finished crossing it when the head of it reached us.

"While they were at the house, pa came ridin' up with the two hats on his head. They took the hats and throwed pa's on the ground and tried Thad's on. They took the mare but they give it back.

"Them folks stood 'round there all day. Killed hogs and cooked them. Killed cows and cooked them. Took all kinds of sugar and preserves and things like that. Tore all the feathers out of the mattress looking for money. Then they put ole miss (Nealie Haney) and her daughter (Louisa Haney) in the kitchen to cookin'.

"Ma got scairt and went to bed. Dreckly the lieutenant come on down there and said, 'Auntie, get up from there. We ain't a goin' to do you no hurt. We're after helpin' you. We are freein' you. Aunt Dinah, you can do as you please now. You're free.'

"She was free!

"They stayed 'round there all night cooking and eatin' and carryin' on. They sent some of the meat in there to us colored folks.

"Next mornin' they all dropped off goin' down to take Dardanelles. You could hear the cannons roarin' next day. They was all night gettin' away. They went on and took Dardanelles. Had all them white folks runnin' and hidin'.

"The Secesh wouldn't go far. They would just hide. One night there'd be a gang of Secesh, and the next one, there'd come along a gang of Yankees. Pa was 'fraid of both of 'em. Secesh said they'd kill 'im if he left his white folks. Yankees said they'd kill 'im if he didn't leave 'em. He would hide out in the cotton patch and keep we children out there with him. Ole mis' made him carry us.

"We was freed and went to a place that was full of people. We had to stay in a church with about twenty other people and two of the babies died there on account of the exposure. Two of my aunts died, too, on account of exposure then.

"The soldiers didn't take anything that night but food. They left all the horses. What they took was what they could eat. But they couldn't catch the turkeys. The lieutenant stayed around all the time to make the soldiers behave themselves. The meals he made my ole mis' and her daughter cook was for the officers.

"Yes Lawd! I have been here so long I ain't forgot nothin'. I can remember things way back. I can remember things happening when I was four years old. Things that happen now I can't remember so well. But I can remember things that happened way back yonder."

Schooling

"I learnt to read a little after peace was declared. A ole lady, Aunt Sarah Nunly, learnt us how to spell and then after that we went to school. I went to school three weeks. I never went to school much.

"Didn't git no chance to learn nothin' in slavery. Sometimes the children would teach the darkies 'round the house their ABC's. I've heard of folks teachin' their slaves to read the Bible. They didn't teach us to read nothin'. I've heard of it, but I've never seen it, that some folks would cut off the first finger of a nigger that could write."

Father's Children Freed Before Emancipation

"My father had some children that were set free. They lived down on the river bottom. Their ole master was named ole Crow. He died and sot his niggers free. He had four slaves. He had five. If any of you know Philo Pointer, his father was one of 'em. They sot him free. His daughter--Crow's daughter--wanted the niggers and they would break the ole man's will. They furnished them a wagon and sot them free. They came by my father's place and he killed his hog and fed them and they put the rest of it in the wagon and went on to the free state. I've got an old piece of a dish them boys give my mama. It's done broke up to a piece now, but I saves that.

"Patsy Crow was the name of the girl that was freed, and one of the boys was named Joe Crow, and the others I don't know what it was. I guess it was Jim. Their old master had left a will givin' them the wagon and team because he knew it wouldn't be possible for them to stay there after he died. He said he didn't want his niggers to be under anybody after he died. Wills was wills in them days. His daughter wanted them niggers, but they didn't give them to her. They sot them free and sont them off."

Wants to See Her People

"I nursed three children for Thad Haney and Louisa, his wife. Them girls' names was: the oldest was Julia; the next one was named Emma; and the youngest one was named Virginia. If I can find them and see them again, I'll be so happy. I jus' want to meet them one more time--some of them--all of them if they're livin'; but I know they can't all be living.

"Matilda Haney was my name then, and I nursed Thad's children in slavery time."

Age

"I think I'm between ninety-seven and ninety-eight years old. They had an old-age contest in Reverend Smith's time. They had Reverend Coffee and another man here since Reverend Smith. The pastor we have now is Yates. Our church is Lee Chapel A. M. E. Church. The contest was in 1935 I think and the people all agreed that I was the oldest colored woman in North Little Rock. They said I was ninety-six years old then. That would make me about ninety-eight years old now. But I saw my children afterwards and they said I was a year older. I used to have my age in the family Bible and my husband's too, but it got burnt up. Accordin' to them I oughta be about ninety-nine or a hundred."

Occupation

"My folks didn't raise no cotton. They raised about two bales a year. Didn't have nobody to raise it. Thirty slaves were not enough for that. And they didn't care nothin' about it nohow. They had forty-six acres of land in wheat and lots in corn and potatoes. They raised cows, hogs, horses, turkeys, chickens, and everything else. Even had peafowls. The geese used to run me 'round many a day.

"They ran a cotton gin and my father managed it. That was his job all the time before the War.

"After the War, my father farmed. He worked on shares. They never cheated him that he knew about. If they did, he didn't know it. He owned his horses and cows."

#657
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: John G. Hawkens
Biscoe, Arkansas
Age: 71

"I was born in Monroe County, Mississippi December 9, 1866. My parents was Frances Hawkens. She was a half white woman. I was told my daddy was a white man, Mr. Young. Mother was a cook and house woman. Grandmother was a field woman. She was dark but had some Indian blood in her. I believe they said it was part Choctaw Indian. I don't remember a grandfather.

"Lamar County, Alabama was across the line from Monroe County, Mississippi. One of the Hawkens girls (white girl) married a man in Mississippi. The master had three boys and one or two girls. Grandmother was sold to the Hawkens and mother was born there in Alabama. There was another woman they owned called Mandy. They was all the slaves they owned that I knowd of.

"When the War come on, the old man Hawkens was dead. His widow had three sons but one was married and off from her home somewhere. All three boys went to war. Her married son died in the War.

"One son went to war but he didn't want to go. He ask his mother if she rather free the Negroes or go to war. She said, 'Go fight till you die, it won't be nothing but a breakfast spell.' He went but come back on a furlough. He spent the rest of the time in a cave he dug down back of the field. He'd slip out and come to the house a little while at night. It was in the back woods and not very near anybody else.

"Aunt Mandy, another old man, grandmother and my mother lived in a house in the yard, two of us was born in slavery. My sister Mandy was fifteen years old when slavery ended.

"The way we first heard about freedom, one of the boys come home to stay but no one knew that when he came. He told sister Mandy cook him a good supper and he would tell her something good. She cooked him a good supper and set the table. He set to eat and she ask him what it was. He told her, 'All the slaves are free now.' From that on it was talked. We left there. My mother and sister Mandy told me I wasn't born. We went to Mississippi then. I was born over there. Some sharecropped and some worked as renters.

"Sister Mandy told so many times about carrying fire in a coffeepot--had a lid and handle--to the son in the cave. She'd go across there, a meadow like and a field, calling the sheep for a blind so if the cavalry spied her they would think she had a little feed for the sheep. The cavalry was close about. It was cold and the young master would nearly freeze in his cave.

"Mother said they was good to them. They never touched them to beat them but they all went from early till late. They all worked and the old mistress too.

"Two of mother's children was slave born. Sister Mandy is dead but my brother George Hawkens is on 1114 Appenway, Little Rock. He can tell you more than I know. Two of us was born after slavery. We all had the same father--Mr. Young. He lived about two miles from Hawkens and had a white wife and family. I carried water to the field where he worked and talked a little with him. I saw him when he was sick. He had consumption. I heard when he died and was buried. He never did one thing for us children. Mr. Young and the Hawkens was partners some way in the farming. Mr. Young died young.

"When her son told my sister Mandy at supper table, 'All the slaves are free now', old mistress jumped up and said, 'It's not recorded! It's not recorded!'

"Mr. Wolf was a man, old, old man on a big plantation. He had one hundred slaves. He didn't know his slaves when he met one of them. He had overseers. He talked with his slaves when he met one about and they would tell him, 'You're my master.' They said during the War the old man had cotton seed boiled down for his slaves to eat. The War was about to starve them all out. Oil mills were unheard of at that time.

"The War brought freedom and starvation both to the slaves. I heard old people say they died in piles from exposure and hunger. There was no let-up to their work after freedom.

"All my family came from Mississippi to Forrest City, Arkansas together. I married the first time there. My wife died. Then I married at Brinkley, Arkansas. We have one boy living in Lee County. He's my only child."

Interviewer's Comment

J. G. Hawkens is the whitest Negro I have ever seen. He has blue eyes and straight hair. He was fishing two days I went to see him.

#656
Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson
Person interviewed: Lizzie Hawkens
Biscoe, Arkansas
Age: 65

"I was born close to Magnolia, Arkansas.

"My mother was Harriett Marshal. Her old mistress was a Marshal. She was a widow woman and had let all her slaves go out to her children but mama. Mama was her husband's chile, what she tole mama. They come here from Atlanta, Georgia visiting her married daughter. They was the Joiners at Magnolia, Arkansas. She brought mama and on her way back home to Atlanta she died. Her daughter brought her back and buried her in Arkansas and kept mama.

"Mama said they was nice to her. They wouldn't let her keep company with no black folks. She was about as white as white folks. She was white as my husband. Her mother was light or half white. My own papa was a black man.

"The Joiners and Scotts visited down at Magnolia among themselves but they didn't want mama to marry in the Scott family (of Negroes). But the white folks was mighty good friends. Mama took care of the children. They was in the orchard one day. Papa spied mama. He picked up a plum and threw at her. She say, 'Where that come from?' He stooped down and seen her under the limbs. They was under another plum tree. Papa got to talk to her that day. The old mistress wouldn't let her out of sight. Papa never could have got her if Mistress Marshal had lived.

"Mama had three or four sisters and brothers in Atlanta, and her mother was in Atlanta. Her parents were Bob and Lucindy Marshal. Bob was Lucindy's master. Mama told old mistress to bring Harriett back and she promised she would. That was one thing made her watch after her so close. She never had been made a slave. She was to look after old mistress.

"After she died mama's young mistress let papa have her. He mustered up courage to ax for her and she said, 'Yes, L (for Elbert), you can have her.' That was all the marrying they ever done. They never jumped over no broom she said. They was living together when she died. But in slavery times mama lived on at Judge Joiner's and papa at Scott's place. One family lived six miles east of Magnolia and the other six miles north of Magnolia. Papa went to see mama twelve miles. They cut through sometimes. It was dense woods. Mama had one boy before freedom. In all she had three boys and four girls.

"The Scott and Joiner white folks told the slaves about freedom. Papa homesteaded a place one mile of the courthouse square. The old home is standing there now.

"Papa said during the Civil War he hauled corn in an ox wagon. The cavalry met him more than once and took every ear and grain he had. He'd have to turn and go back.

"He said when freedom come, some of the people tole the slaves, 'You have to root pig or die poor.'

"My great-grandpa was sold in South Carolina. He said he rather die than be sold. He went up in the mountains and found a den of rattlesnakes to bite him. They was under a stone. Said when he seen them he said, 'Uhher! You can't bite me.' They commenced to rattle like dry butter-beans. He went on and dressed to be sold. Master Scott bought him and brought him on to Arkansas. He had to leave his wife. He never got back to see her.

"Grandpa had to come leave his wife. He married ag'in and had five sons and a girl. They was Glasco, Alex, Hilliard, Elbert, Bill, and Katherine. They belong to Spencers till the Scotts bought them but all these children was his Scott children.

"My uncle's wife belong to white folks not Scotts. Scotts wouldn't sell and her folks wouldn't part from her. They moved down in Louisiana and took her and one chile. Uncle run away to see her. The Scotts put the hounds after him and run him two days and two nights. He was so tired he stopped to rest. The dogs come up around him. He took a pine knot and killed the lead dog, hit him in the head and put him in a rotten knot hole of a hollow tree been burned out and just flew. The dogs scattered and he heard the horns. He heard the dogs howl and the hoofs of the man's horses. The old master was dead. He didn't allow the boys to slash in among his niggers. After he died they was bossy. Uncle said he made his visit and come back. He didn't ever tell them he killed the lead dog nor how close they come up on him. He said they was glad to see him when he come back. His wife was named Georgana.

"After freedom grandpa named himself Spencer Scott. He buried his money. He made a truck garden and had patches in slavery both in South Carolina and at Magnolia. He told me he had rusty dollars never been turned over since they made him came here. He left some money buried back there. We found his money on his place at Magnolia when he died. He tole us where it was.