Chapter VI: Part 6

"My owner or least my folks was owned by Dr. [HW: 'Murder'] (Murdock). He had a big farm. He was a widower. He had no children as ever I knowed of. Dr. 'Murder' raised my father's mother. He bought her at Tupelo, Mississippi. He raised mother too. She was bright color. I'm sure they stayed on after freedom 'cause I stayed there till we come to Arkansas. Father was a teamster. He followed that till he died. He owned a dray and died at Brinkley. He was well-known and honorable.

"I worked in the oil mill at Brinkley-American Oil Company.

"Mother was learned durin' slavery but I couldn't say who done it. She taught school 'round Buena Vista and Okolona, Mississippi. She learned me. I was born 1874--November 25, 1874. I heard her say she worked in the field one year. They give her some land and ploughed it so she could have a patch. It was all she could work. I don't know how much. It was her patch. Our depot was Prairie Station, Mississippi. My parents was Monroe [HW: 'Murder'] Murdock[TR: lined out] and Lucy Ann Murdock[TR: lined out] [HW: Murder]. It is spelled M-u-r-d-o-c-k.

"I farmed all my whole life. Oil milling was the surest, quickest living but I likes farmin' all right.

"I never contacted the Ku Kluxes. They was 'bout gone when I come on.

"I voted off an' on. This is the white folks' country and they going to run their gov'mint. The thing balls us up is, some tells us one way and some more tells us a different way to do. And we don't know the best way. That balls us up. Times is better than ever I seen them, for the man that wants to work.

"I get $8 a month. I work all I can."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Bessie Myers, Brassfield, Arkansas Age: 50? didn't know

"My mother was named Jennie Bell. She was born in North Ca'lina (Carolina). She worked about the house. She said there was others at the house working all the time with her.

"She said they daresn't to cross the fence on other folks' land or go off up the road 'lessen you had a writing to show. One woman could write. She got a pass and this woman made some more. She said couldn't find nothing to make passes on. It happened they never got caught up. That woman didn't live very close by. She talked like she was free but was one time a slave her own self.

"Mother said she would run hide every time the Yankee men come. She said she felt safer in the dark. They took so many young women to wait on them and mother was afraid every time they would take her.

"She said she had been at the end of a corn row at daylight ready to start chopping it over, or pull fodder, or pull ears either. She said they thought to lie in bed late made you weak. Said the early fresh air what made children strong.

"On wash days they all met at a lake and washed. They had good times then. They put the clothes about on the bushes and briers and rail fences. Some one or two had to stay about to keep the clothes from a stray hog or goat till they dried. And they would forage about in the woods. It was cool and pleasant. They had to gather up the clothes in hamper baskets and bring them up to iron. Mother said they didn't mind work much. They got used to it.

"Mother told about men carried money in sacks. When they bought a slave, they open up a sack and pull out gold and silver.

"The way she talked she didn't mind slavery much. Papa lived till a few years ago but he never would talk about slavery at all. His name was Willis Bell."

Interviewer: Miss Sallie C. Miller Person interviewed: Mary Myhand, Clarksville, Arkansas Age: 85

"My mammie died when I was a little girl She had three children and our white folks took us in their house and raised us. Two of us had fever and would have died if they hadn't got us a good doctor. The doctor they had first was a quack and we were getting worse until they called the other doctor, then we commence to get well. I don't know how old I am. Our birthdays was down in the mistress' Bible and when the old war come up, the house was burned and lost everything but I know I am at least 83 or 84 years old. Our white folks was so good to us. They never whipped us, and we eat what they eat and when they eat. I was born in White County, Tennessee and moved to Missouri but the folks did not like it there so we come to Benton County, Arkansas. One side of the road was Benton County and the other side was Washington County but we always had to go to Bentonville, the county seat, to tend to business. I was a little tod of a girl when the war come up. One day word come that the 'Feds' were coming through and kill all of the old men and take all the boys with them, so master took my brother and a grandson of his and started South. I was so scared. I followed them about a half mile before they found me and I begged so hard they took me with them. We went to Texas and was there about one year when the Feds gave the women on our place orders to leave their home. Said they owned it now. They had just got to Texas where we was when the South surrendered and we all come back home.

"We stayed with our white folks for about twenty years after the war. They shore was good to me. I worked for them in the house but never worked in the field. I came across the mountain to Clarksville with a Methodist preacher and his family and married here. My husband worked in a livery stable until he died, then I worked for the white folks until I fell and hurt my knee and got too old. I draws my old age pension.

"I do not know about the young generation. I am old and crippled and don't go out none."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: Griffin Myrax 913 Missouri Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age 77?

"I don't know my age exactly. You know in them days people didn't take care of their ages like they do now. I couldn't give you any trace of the war, but I do remember when the Ku Klux was runnin' around.

"Oh Lord, so much of the time I heard my mother talk about the slavery. I was born in Oklahoma and my grandfather was a full-blooded Crete Indian. He was very much of a man and lived to be one hundred thirty years old. All Crete Indians named after some herb--that's what the name Myrax means.

"I heard my mother say that in slavery times the man worked all day with weights on their feet so when night come they take them off and their feet feel so light they could outran the Ku Klux. Now I heard her tell that.

"My parents moved from Oklahoma to Texas and I went to school in Marshall, Texas. All my schoolin' was in Texas--my people was tied up there. My last schoolin' was in Buchanan, Texas. The professor told my mother she would have to take me out of school for awhile, I studied too hard. I treasured my books. When other children was out playin' I was studyin'.

"There was some folks in that country that didn't get along so well. I remember there was a blind woman that the folks sent something to eat by another colored woman. But she eat it up and cooked a toadfrog for the old blind woman. That didn't occur on our place but in the neighborhood. When the people found it out they whipped her sufficient.

"When my grandfather died he didn't have a decayed tooth in his head. They was worn off like a horse's teeth but he had all of them.

"I always followed sawmill work and after I left that I followed railroading. I liked railroading. I more or less kept that in my view.

"About this slavery--I couldn't hardly pass my sentiments on it. The world is so far gone, it would be the hardest thing to put the bridle on some of the people that's runnin' wild now."

Name of Interviewer: Irene Robertson Subject: Ex-slaves--Dreams--Herbs: Cures and Remedies Story:--

This information given by: Tom Wylie Neal Place of Residence: Hazen, Arkansas--Near Green Grove Occupation: Farmer--Feeds cattle in the winter for a man in Hazen. Age: 85 [TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.]

His father and mother belonged to Tom Neal at Calhoun, Georgia. He remembers the big battle at Atlanta Ga. He was eight years old. He saw the lights, [saw the bullets in the air at night] and heard the boom, boom of guns and cannons. They passed along with loaded wagons and in uniforms. The horses were beautiful, and he saw lots of fine saddles and bridles. His mistress' name was Mrs. Tom Neal. She had the property and married Tom Neal. She had been married before and her first husband died but her first husband's name can't be recalled. She had two children--girls--by her first husband. Her second husband just married her to protect them all he could. He didn't do anything unless the old mistress told him to do it and how to do it. Wylie Neal was raised up with the old mistress' children. He was born a slave and lived to thirteen years. "The family had some better to eat and lots more to wear, but they gave me plenty and never did mistreat me. They had a peafowl. That was good luck, to keep some of them about on the place." They had guineas, chickens and turkeys. They never had a farm bell. He never saw one till he came to Arkansas. They blew a big "Conch shell" instead. Mistress had cows and she would pour milk or pot-liquor out in a big pewter bowl on a stump and the children would come up there from the cabins and eat [till the field hands had time to cook a meal.][HW:?] Wylie's mother was a field hand. They drank out of tin cans and gourds. The master mated his hands. Some times he would ask his young man or woman if they knew anybody they would like to marry that he was going to buy more help and if they knew anybody he would buy them if he could. The way they met folks they would get asked to corn shuckings and log rollings and Mrs. Neal always took some of her colored people to church to attend to the stock, tie the horses and hitch up, maybe feed and to nurse her little girls at church. The colored folks sat on the back seats over in a corner together. If they didn't behave or talked out they got a whipping or didn't go no more. "They kept the colored people scared to be bad."

The colored folks believed in hoodoo and witches. Heard them talking lots about witches. They said if they found anybody was a witch they would kill them. Witches took on other forms and went out to do meaness. They said sometimes some of them got through latch holes. They used buttons and door knobs whittled out of wood, and door latches with strings.

People married early in "Them days"--when Mistress' oldest girl married she gave her Sumanthy, Wylie's oldest sister when they come home [they would let her come.] They sent their children to school some but the colored folks didn't go because it was "pay school." Every year they had "pertracted meeting." Looked like a thousand people come and stayed two or three weeks along in August, in tents. "We had a big time then and some times we'd see a colored girl we'd ask the master to buy. They'd preach to the colored folks some days. Tell them the law. How to behave and serve the Lord." When Wylie was twelve years old the "Yanks" came and tore up the farm. "It was just like these cyclones that is [TR: illegible word] around here in Arkansas, exactly like that."

His mistress left and he never saw her again. General [HW: John Bell] Hood was the [TR: illegible word] he thinks, but he was given to Captain Condennens to wait on him. They went to Marietta, Ga., and Kingston, Ga. "Rumors came about that we were free and everybody was drifting around. The U.S. Government gave us food then like they do now and we hunted work. Everybody nearly froze and starved. We wore old uniforms and slept anywhere we could find, an old house or piece of a house. In 1865-1869--the Ku Klux was miserable on the colored folks. Lots of folks died out of consumption in the spring and pneumonia all winter.

"There wasn't any doctors seeing after colored folks for they had no money and they used herbs--only medicine they could get."

Only herbs he remembers he used is: chew black snake roots to settle sick stomach. Flux weed tea for disordered stomach. People eat so much "messed up food" lot of them got sick.

Wylie Neal wandered about and finally came to Chattanooga. They got old uniforms and victuals from the "Yanks" about a year.

Colonel Stocker come and got up a lot of hands and paid their way to Memphis on the train. From there they were put on the _Molly Hamilton_ boat and went to Linden, Arkansas, on the St. Francis River. "He fared fine" there. In 1906[TR: ?] he came to Hazen and since then he has owned small farms at Biscoe and forty acres near Hazen. It was joining the old Joe Perry place. Dr. ---- got a mortgage on it and took it. Wylie Neal lives with his niece and she is old too so they get relief and a pension.

"He don't believe in dreams but some dreams like when you dream of the dead there's sho' goner be falling weather." He "don't dream much" he says.

He has a birthmark on his leg. It looks like a bunch of berries. He never heard what caused it. It has always been there.

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: Sally Nealy 105 Mulberry Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age: 91

"Yes mam, I was a slave! I was sixteen years old when the war begun. I was born in Texas.

"My old master was John Hall and my young master was Marse Dick. Marse John went to war the 5th day of May in 1861 and he was killed in June. They wasn't nothin' left to bring home but his right leg and his left arm. They knowed it was him cause his name was tattooed on his leg.

"He was a mean rascal. He brought us up from the plantation and pat us on the head and give us a little whisky and say 'Your name is Sally or Mary or Mose' just like we was dogs.

"My old mistress, Miss Caroline, was a mean one too. She was the mother of eight children--five girls and three boys. When she combed her hair down low on her neck she was all right but when she come down with it done up on the top of her head--look out.

"It was my job to scrub the big cedar churns with brick dust and Irish potato and polish the knives and forks the same way. Then every other day I had to mold twelve dozen candles and sweep the yard with a dogwood bresh broom.

"She didn't give us no biscuits or sugar 'cept on Christmas. Jest shorts and molasses for our coffee. When the Yankee soldiers come through old mistress run and hide in the cellar but the Yankees went down in the collar too and took all the hams and honey and brandied peaches she had.

"They didn't have no doctors for the niggers then. Old mistress just give us some blue mass and castor oil and they didn't give you nothin' to take the taste out your mouth either.

"Oh lord, I know 'bout them Ku Klux. They wore false faces and went around whippin' people.

"After the surrender I went to stay with Miss Fulton. She was good to me and I stayed with her eleven years. She wanted to know how old I was so my father went to Miss Caroline and she say I 'bout twenty now.

"Some white folks was good to their slaves. I know one man, Alec Yates, when he killed hogs he give the niggers five of 'em. Course he took the best but that was all right.

"After freedom the Yankees come and took the colored folks away to the marshal's yard and kept them till they got jobs for 'em. They went to the white folks houses and took things to feed the niggers.

"I ain't been married but once. I thought I was in love but I wasn't. Love is a itchin' 'round the heart you can't get at to scratch.

"I 'member one song they sung durin' the war

'The Yankees are comin' through
By fall sez I
We'll all drink stone blind
Johnny fill up the bowl.'"

FOLKLORE SUBJECTS Name of interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Subject: Songs of Civil War Days Story:--Information

This information given by: Sally Neeley Place of residence: 105 N. Mulberry, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Occupation: None Age: 90 [TR: Information moved from bottom of first page.] [TR: Same as previous informant (Sally Nealy).]

(1)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-one
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-one
That's the year the war begun
We'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny, come fill up the bowl.

(2)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-two
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-two
That's the year we put 'em through
We'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny, come fill up the bowl.

(3)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-three
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-three
That's the year we didn't agree
We'll all drink stone blind.
Johnny, come fill up the bowl.

(4)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-four
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-four
We'll all go home and fight no more
We'll all drink stone blind.
Johnny, come fill up the bowl.

(5)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-five
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-five
We'll have the Rebels dead or alive
We'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny, come fill up the bowl.

(6)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-six
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-six
We'll have the Rebels in a helava fix
We'll all drink stone blind,
Johnny, come fill up the bowl.

(7)
"In eighteen hundred and sixty-seven
Football (?) sez I;
In eighteen hundred and sixty-seven
We'll have the Rebels dead and at the devil
We'll all drink stone blind.
Johnny, came fill up the bowl."

Interviewer's Comment

The word "football" doesn't sound right in this song, but I was unable to find it in print, and Sally seemed to think it was the right word.

Sally is a very wicked old woman and swears like a sailor, but she has a remarkable memory.

She was "bred and born" in Rusk County, Texas and says she came to Pine Bluff when it was "just a little pig."

Says she was sixteen when the Civil War began.

I have previously reported an interview with her.

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Wylie Nealy [HW: Biscoe Arkansas?] Age: 85

I was born in 1852. I am 85 years old. I was born in Gordon County. The closest town was Calhoun, South Carolina. My sister died in '59. That's the first dead, person I ever saw. One of my sisters was give away and another one was sold before the Civil War started. Sister Mariah was give to the young mistress, Miss Ella Conley. I didn't see her sold. I never seed nobody sold but I heard 'em talking about it. I had five sisters and one brother. My father was a free man always. He was a Choctaw Indian. Mother was part Cherokee Indian. My mother's mistress was Mrs. Martha Christian. He died and she married Tom Nealy, the one they call me fur, Wylie Nealy.

Liberty and Freedom was all I ever heard any colored folks say dey expected to get out of de war, and mighty proud of dot. Nobody knowed they was goin to have a war till it was done broke out and they was fightin about it. Didn't nobody want land, they jess wanted freedom. I remembers when Lincoln was made the President both times and when he was killed. I recollects all that like yesterday.

The army had been through and swept out everything. There wasn't a chicken or hog nowhere to be had, took the stock and cattle and all the provisions. So de slaves jess had to scatter out and leave right now. And after de army come through. I was goin back down to the old place and some soldiers passed riding along and one said "Boy where you goin? Said nothing up there." I says, "I knows it." Then he say "Come on here, walk along back there" and I followed him. I was twelve years old. He was Captain McClendenny. Then when I got to the camp wid him he say "You help around here." I got sick and they let me go back home then to Resacca, Georgia and my mother died. When I went back they sent me to Chattanooga with Captain Story. I was in a colored regiment nine months, I saw my father several times while I was at Chattanooga. We was in Shermans army till it went past Atlanta. They burned up the city. Two of my masters come out of the war alive and two dead. I was mustered out in August 1865. I stayed in camp till my sisters found a cabin to move in. Everybody got rations issued out. It was a hard time. I got hungry lots times. No plantations was divided and the masters didn't have no more than the slaves had when the war was done. After the Yankees come in and ripped them up old missus left and Mr. Tom Nealy was a Home Guard. He had a class of old men. Never went back or seen any more of them. Everybody left and a heap of the colored folks went where rations could be issued to them and some followed on in the armies. After I was mustered out I stayed around the camps and went to my sister's cabin till we left there. Made anything we could pick up. Men come in there getting people to go work for them. Some folks went to Chicago. A heap of the slaves went to the northern cities. Colonel Stocker, a officer in the Yankee army, got us to come to a farm in Arkansas. We wanted to stay together is why we all went on the farm. May 1866, when we come to Arkansas is the first farmin I had seen done since I left Tom Nealy's place. Colonel Stocker is mighty well known in St. Francis County. He brought lots of families, brought me and my brother, my two brothers and a nephew. We come on the train. It took four or five days. When we got to Memphis we come to Linden on a boat "Molly Hamilton" they called it. I heard it was sunk at Madison long time after that. Colonel Stocker promised to pay $6 a month and feed us. When Christmas come he said all I was due was $12.45. We made a good crop. That wasn't it. Been there since May. Had to stay till got all the train and boat fare paid. There wasn't no difference in that and slavery 'cept they couldn't sell us.

I heard a heap about the Ku Klux but I nebber seed them. Everybody was scared of them.

The first votin I ever heard of was in Grant's election. Both black and white voted. I voted Republican for Grant. Lot of the southern soldiers was franchised and couldn't vote. Just the private soldiers could vote at tall. I don't know why it was. I was a slave for thirteen years from birth. Every slave could vote after freedom. Some colored folks held office. I knew several magistrates and sheriffs. There was one at Helena (Arkansas) and one at Marianna. He was a High Sheriff. I voted some after that but I never voted in the last Presidento election. I heard 'em say it wasn't no use, this man would be elected anyhow. I sorter quit off long time ago.

In 1874 and 1875 I worked for halves and made nough to buy a farm in St. Francis County. It cost $925. I bought it in 1887. Eighty acres to be cleared down in the bottoms. My family helped and when my help got shallow, the children leaving me, I sold it for $2,000, in 1904. I was married jess once and had eight children; five livin and three dead. Me and the old woman went to Oklahoma. We went in January and come back to Biscoe (Arkansas) in September. It wasn't no place for farming. I bought 40 acres from Mr. Aydelott and paid him $500. I sold it and come to Mr. Joe Perry's place, paid $500 for 40 acres of timber land. We cleared it and I got way in debt and lost it. Clear lost it! Ize been working anywhere I could make a little since then. My wife died and I been doing little jobs and stays about with my children. The Welfare gives me a little check and some supplies now and then.

No maam, I can't read much. I was not learnt. I could figure a little before my eyes got bad. The white folks did send their children to pay schools but we colored children had to stay around the house and about in the field to work. I never got no schoolin. I went with old missus to camp meeting down in Georgia one time and got to go to white church sometimes. At the camp meeting there was a big tent and all around it there was brush harbors and tents where people stayed to attend the meetins. They had four meetins a day. Lots of folk got converted and shouted. They had a lot of singings They had a lots to eat and a big time.

I don't think much about these young folks now. It seems lack everybody is having a hard time to live among us colored folks. Some white folks has got a heap and fine cars to get about in. I don't know what go in to become of 'em.

People did sing more than I hear them now but I never could sing. They sing a lot of foolish songs and mostly religious songs.

I don't recollect of any slave uprising. I never heard of any. We didn't know they was going to have a war till they was fighting. Yes maam, they heard Lincoln was going to set 'em free, but they didn't know how he was going to do it. Everybody wanted freedom. Mr. Hammond (white) ask me not long ago if I didn't think it best to bring us from Africa and be slaves than like wild animals in Africa. He said we was taught about God and the Gospel over here if we was slaves. I told him I thought dot freedom was de best anywhere.

We had a pretty hard time before freedom. My mother was a field woman. When they didn't need her to work they hired her out and they got the pay. The master mated the colored people. I got fed from the white folks table whenever I curried the horses. I was sorter raised up with Mr. Nealy's children. They didn't mistreat me. On Saturday the mistress would blow a cone shell and they knowed to go and get the rations. We got plenty to eat. They had chickens and ducks and geese and plenty milk. They did have hogs. They had seven or eight guineas and a lot of peafowls. I never heard a farm bell till I come to Arkansas. The children et from pewter bowls or earthen ware. Sometimes they et greens or milk from the same bowl, all jess dip in. The Yankees took me to General Hood's army and I was Captain McCondennen's helper at the camps.[HW: ?] We went down through Marietta and Atlanta and through Kingston. Shells come over where we lived. I saw 'em fight all the time. Saw the light and heard the roaring of de guns miles away. It looked like a storm where the army went along. They tramped the wheat and oats and cotton down and turned the horses in on the corn. The slaves show did hate to see the Yankees waste everything. They promised a lot and wasn't as good as the old masters. All dey wanted was to be waited on too. The colored folks was freed when the Yankees took all the stock and cattle and rations. Everybody had to leave and let the government issue them rations. Everybody was proud to be free. They shouted and sung. They all did pretty well till the war was about to end then they was told to scatter and no whars to go. Cabins all tore down or burned. No work to do. There was no money to pay. I wore old uniforms pretty well till I come to Arkansas. I been here in Hazen since 1906. I come on a boat from Memphis to Linden. Colonel Stocker brought a lot of us on the train. The name of the boat was Molly Hamilton. It was a big boat and we about filled it. I show was glad to get back on a farm.

I don't know what is goin to become of the young folks. Everything is so different now and when I was growin up I don't know what will become of the younger generation.

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Emaline Neland, Marianna, Arkansas Age: Born 1859

"I was born two years before the War. I was born in Murray County, Tennessee. It was middle Tennessee. When I come to remembrance I was in Grant County, Arkansas. When I remember they raised wheat and corn and tobacco. Mother's master was Dr. Harrison. His son was married and me and my brother Anderson was give to him. He come to Arkansas 'fore ever I could remember. He was a farmer but I never seen him hit a lick of work in my life. He was good to me and my brother. She was good too. I was the nurse. They had two children. Brother was a house boy. Me and her girl was about the same size but I was the oldest. Being with the other children I called her mother too. I didn't know no other mother till freedom.

"Freedom! Well, here is the very way it all was: Old master told her (mother) she was free. He say, 'Go get your children, you free as I is now.' Ain't I heard her say it many a time? Well, mother come in a ox wagon what belong to him and got us. They run me down, caught me and got me in the wagon. They drove twenty-five miles. Old Dr. Harrison had moved to Arkansas. Being with the other children I soon learnt to call her ma. She had in all ten or eleven children. She was real dark.

"Pa was a slave too. He was a low man. He was a real bright man. He was brighter than I is. He belong to a widow woman named Tedford. He renamed his self after freedom. He took the name Brown 'stead of Tedford. I never heard him say why he wasn't satisfied with his own name. He was a soldier. He worked for the Yankees.

"After the War pa and ma got back together and lived together till she died. There was five days' difference in their deaths. They died of pneumonia. He was 64 years old and she was 54 years old. I was at home when pa come from the War. All my sisters was light, one sister had sandy hair like pa. She was real light. Ma was a good all 'round woman. She cooked more than anything else. She nursed. Dr. Harrison told her to stay till her husband come back or all the time if he didn't ever come back. Ma never worked in the field. When pa come he moved us on a place to share crop. Ma never worked in the field. He was buying a home in Grant County. He started to Mississippi and stopped close to Helena and ten or twelve miles from Marianna. He had a soldier friend wouldn't let him go. He told him this was a better country. He decided to stay down in here.

"I heard a whole heap about the Ku Klux. One time when a crowd was going to church, we heard horse's feet coming; sound like they would run over us. We all got clear out of reach so they wouldn't run over us. They had on funny caps was all I could see, they went so fast. We give them the clear road and they went on. That is all I ever seen of the Ku Klux.

"I seen Dr. Harrison's wife. She was a little old lady but we left after I went there.

"I used to sew for the public. Yes, white and colored folks. I learnt my own self to sew. I never had but one boy in my life. He died at seven weeks old. I raised a stepson. I married twice. I married at home both times. Just a quiet marriage and a colored preacher married me both times.

"The present conditions is hard. I want things and can't get 'em. If I had the strength to hold out to work I could get along.

"The present generation--young white and black--blinds me. They turns corners too fast. They going so fast they don't have time to take advice. They promise to do better but they don't. They do like they want to do and don't tell nobody till they done it. I say they just running way with their selves.

"I get $8 and a little help along. I'm thankful for it. It is a blessing I tell you."

Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor Person interviewed: Henry Nelson 904 E. Fifth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas Age: About 70

"My name is Henry Nelson. I was born in Arkansas--Crittenden County near Memphis, Tennessee. I was born not far from Memphis but on this side.

"My mother's name was Adeline Taylor. That was her old slavery folks' name. She was a Taylor before she married my father--Nelson. My father's first name was Green. I don't remember none of my grandparents. My father's mother died before I come to remember and I know my mother's mother died before I could remember.

"My father was born in Mississippi--Sardis, Mississippi--and my mother was a Tennesseean--_Cartersville_[HW:?] Tennessee, twenty-five miles above Memphis. [HW: Carter, in Carter County, about 35 m. north of Memphis, but no Cartersville.] [TR: moved from bottom of following page.]

"After peace was declared, they met in Tennessee. That was where my mother was born, you know. They fell in love with one another in Shelby County, and married there. My mother had been married once before during slavery time. She had been made to marry by her master. Her first husband was named Eli. He was my oldest sister's father. Him and my mother had the same master and missis. She was made to marry him. She was only thirteen years old when she married him. She was fine and stout and her husband was fine and stout, and they wanted more from that stock. I don't know how old he was but he was a lot older than she was. He was a kind of an elderly man. She had just one child by him--my oldest sister, Georgia. She was only married a short time before freedom came.

"My father farmed. He was always a farmer--raised cotton and corn. My mother was a farmer too. Both of them--that is both of her husbands--were farmers.

"My mother and father used to go off to places to dance and the pateroles would get after them. You had to have a pass to go off your place and if you didn't have a pass, they would make you warm. Some of them would get caught sometimes and the pateroles would whip them. They would sure got whipped if they didn't have a pass.

"The old master come out and told them they were free when peace was declared. He said, 'You are free this morning--free as I am.'

"Right after the War, my mother come further down in Tennessee, and that is how she met my father where she was when she was married. They went farming. They farmed on shares--sharecropped. They were on a big place called Ensley place. The man that owned the place was called Nuck Ensley.

"My mother and father didn't have no schooling. I never heard that they were bothered by the Ku Klux.

"She didn't live with her first husband after slavery. She left him when she was freed. She never did intend to marry him. She was forced to that."

Interviewer's Comment

Nelson evidently rents rooms. A yellow sallow-faced, cadaverous, and dissatisfied looking "gentleman" went into the house eyeing me suspiciously as he passed. In a moment he was out again interrupting the old man with pointless remarks. In--out again--standing over me--peering on my paper in the offensive way that ill-bred people have. He straightened up with a disgusted look on his face. He couldn't read shorthand.

"What's that you're writin'?"

"Shorthand."

"What's that about?"

"History."

"History uv whut?"

"Slavery."

"He don't know nothin' about slavery."

"Thank you. However, if he says he does, I'll just continue to listen to him if you don't mind."

"Humph," and the "yellow gentleman" passed in.

Out again--eyeing both the old man and me with disgust that was unconcealed. To him, "You don't know whutchu're doin'."

Deep silence by all. Exit the yellow brother.

To the old man, I said, "Is that your son?"

"Lawd, no, that's jus' a roomer."

Out came the yellow brother again. "See here, Uncle, if you want me to fix that fence you'd bettuh come awn out heah now. It's gettin' dark."

I closed my notebook and arose. "Don't let me interfere with your program, Brother Nelson."

The old man settled back in his chair. His eyes inspected the sky, his jaw "sorta" set. The yellow brother looked at him a minute and passed on.

Five minutes later. Enter, the Madam. She also was of the yellow variety with the suspicious and spiteful look of an undersized black Belgian police dog. A moment of silence--a word to him.

"You don't know whutchu're doin'." Silence all around. To me, "You're upsettin' my work."

I arose. "Madam, I'm sorry."

The old man spoke, "You ain't keepin' me from nothin'."

"Well, I said, you've given me a nice start; I'll come again and get the rest."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Henry Nelson, Edmondson, Arkansas Age: 70 [TR: Appears to be same as last informant despite different address.]

"My mother belong to the Taylors close to Carterville, Tennessee. My father never was sold. He belong to the Nelsons. My parents married toreckly after the surrender and come on to this state. I was born ten miles from Edmondson. Their names was Adeline and Green Nelson. They didn't get nothing after freedom like land or a horse. I'm seventy years old and I would have known.

"I was at Alton, Illinois in the lead works thirteen years ago and I had a stroke. I been cripple ever since.

"My folks never spoke of being nothing but field hands. Folks used to be proud of their crops, go look over them on Sunday when company come. Now if they got a garden they hide it and don't mention it. Times is changed that way.

"Clothes ain't as lasty as they used to be. People has a heap more money to spend and don't raise and have much at home as they did when I was a child. Times is all turned around and folks too. I always had plenty till I couldn't do hard work. I farmed my early life. We didn't have much money but we had rations and warm clothes. I cleared new ground, hauled wood, big logs. I steamboated on the Sun, Kate Adams, and One Arm John. I helped with the freight. I railroaded with pick and shovel and in the lead mines. I worked from Memphis to Helena on boats a good while. I come back here to farm. Time is changed and I'm changed.

"It has been so long since I heard my parents tell about slavery I couldn't tell you straight. She told till she died, talked about how the Yankees done when they come through. They took axes and busted up good furniture. They et up and wasted the rations, then humor up the black folks like they was in their favor when they was settin' out wasting their living. They done made it to live on. Some followed them and some stayed on. They wanted freedom but it wasn't like they thought it would be. They didn't know how it would be. They didn't know it meant _set out_. Seem like they left. In some ways times was better and some ways it was worse. They had to work or starve is what they told me. That's the way I found freedom. 'Course their owners made them work and he looked out for the ration and in slavery.

"I keeps up my own self all I can. I don't get help."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: Iran Nelson 603 E. Fourteenth Ave., Pine Bluff, Ark. Age: 77

"Yes ma'm, they fotch me from Mississippi to Arkansas on the steamboat--you know they didn't have railroads then. They fotch my mother and they went back after grandfather and grandmother too.

"Dr. Noell was our master and he had us under mortgage to his brother-in-law. They fotched us here till he could get straight from that debt, but fore that could be, we got free.

"I knowed slavery times. I member seem' em lash some of the rest but you know I wasn't big enough to put in the fields. Old mistress say when I got big enough, she goin' take me for a house girl. When they fotched mama and grandmother here they had eighty some odd head of niggers. They was gwine carry em back home after they got that mortgage paid but the war come.

"I member when the Yankees come, my white folks would run and hide and hide us colored folks too. Boss man had the colored folks get all the meat out of the smokehouse and hide it in the peach orchard in the grass.

"I used to play with old mistress daughter Addie. We would play in the parlor and after we moved to town some of the little girls would pick up and go home. You know these town folks didn't believe in playin' with the colored folks.

"After mama was free she stayed right there on the place and made a crop. Raised eight hundred bales and the average was nine. Mama plowed and hoed too. I had to work right with her too.

"I never went to school but once. I learned my ABC's but couldn't read. My next ABC's was a hoe in my hand. Mama had a switch right under her belt. I worked but I couldn't keep up. Just seein' that switch was enough. I had a pretty good time when I was young, but I had to go all the time."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: James Henry Nelson 1103 Orange, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age: 82 Occupation: Gardener

"I member all about the war--why of cose. I saddled many a cavalry hoss. I tell you how I know how old I am. Old master, Henry Stanley of Athens, Alabama, moved to Palaski, Tennessee and left me with young mistress to take care of things. One day we was drivin' up some stock and I said, 'Miss Nannie, how old is you?' And she said, 'I'm seventeen.' I was old enough to have the knowledge she would know how old I was and I said, 'How old am I?' And she said, 'You is seven years old.' That was durin' the war.

"I remember the soldiers comin' and stoppin' at our building--Yankees and Southern soldiers, too. They fit all around our plantation.

"The Yankees taken me when I was a little fellow. About two years after the war started, young Marse Henry went to war and took a colored man with him but he ran away--he wouldn't stay with the Rebel army. So young Marse Henry took me. I reckon I was bout ten. I know I was big enough to saddle a cavalry hoss. We carried three horses--his hoss, my hoss and a pack hoss. You know chillun them days, they made em do a man's work. I studied bout my mother durin' the war, so they let me go home.

"One day I went to mill. They didn't low the chillun to lay around, and while I was at the mill a Yankee soldier ridin' a white hoss captured me and took me to Pulaski, Tennessee and then I was in the Yankee army. I wasn't no size and I don't think he would a took me if it hadn't been for the hoss.

"We come back to Athens and the Rebels captured the whole army. Colonel Camp was in charge and General Forrest captured us and I was carried south. We was marchin' along the line and a Rebel soldier said, 'Don't you want to go home and stay with my wife?' And so I went there, to Millville, Alabama. Then he bound me to a friend of his and I stayed there till the war bout ended. I was getting along very well but a older boy 'suaded me to run away to Decatur, Alabama.

"Oh I seen lots of the war. Bof sides was good to me. I've seen many a scout. The captain would say 'By G----, close the ranks.' Captains is right crabbed. I stayed back with the hosses.

"After the war I worked about for this one and that one. Some paid me and some didn't.

"I can remember back to Breckenridge; and I can remember hearin' em say 'Hurrah for Buchanan!' I'm just tellin' you to show how fur back I can remember. I used to have a book with a picture of Abraham Lincoln with an axe on his shoulder and a picture of that log cabin, but somebody stole my book.

"I worked for whoever would take me--I had no mother then. If I had had parents to make me go to school, but I got along very well. The white folks taught me not to have no bad talk. They's all dead now and if they wasn't I'd be with them.

"I'm a natural born farmer--that's all I know. The big overflow drownded me out and my wife died with pellagra in '87. She was a good woman and nice to white folks. I'm just a bachin' here now. I did stay with my daughter but she is mean to me, so I just picked up my rags and moved into this room where I can live in peace. I'm a christian man, and I can't live right with her. When colored folks is mean, they's meaner than white folks.

"I'm gettin' along very well now. I been with white folks all my day--and it's hard for me to get along with my folks.

"In one way the world is crueler than they used to be. They don't appreciate things like they used to. They have no feelin's and don't care nothin' bout the olden people.

"Well, good-bye, I'm proud of you."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: John Nelson, Holly Grove, Arkansas Age: 76

"My parents was Jazz Nelson and Mahaney Nelson. He come from Louisiana durin' slavery. She come from Richmond, Virginia. I think from what they said he come to Louisiana from there too. They was plain field hands.

"My folks belong to Miss Mary Ann Richardson and Massa Harve Richardson. They had five children and every one dead now. They lived at Duncan Station.

"The white folks told em they was free. They had no place to go and they been workin' the crop. White folks glad for em to stay and work on. And the truth is they was glad to git to stay on cause they had no place to go. They kept stayin' on a long time.

"I was so small I don't know if the Ku Klux ever did come bout our place at tall."

Interviewer: Miss Irene Robertson Person interviewed: Lettie Nelson St. Marys Street, Helena, Arkansas Age: 55 or 56?

"Grandma was Patsy Smith. She said in slavery they had a certain amount of cotton to pick. If they didn't have that amount they would put their heads between the rails of the fences and whoop them. They whooped them in the ebenin' when they weighed up the cotton. Grandma was raised in Virginia. She was light. Mama was light. They was carried from Virginia to Louisiana in wagons. They found clothes along the road people had lost. She said several bundles of good clothes. They thought they had dropped off of wagons ahead of them. They washed and wore the clothes. Some of 'em fit so they wore them. Mama left her husband and brother in Virginia. Ed Smith was her second husband. He was a light man. My grandpa was a field man. I never heard if grandpa was sold. Jimmie Stansberry was the man that bought or brought mama and grandma to Louisiana. Mama cooked and worked in the field both. Grandma did too. She cooked in Louisiana more than mama. They belong to Lou and Jimmie Stansberry and they had two boys. They lived close to Minden, Louisiana. I don't know so much about my parents and grandma talked but we didn't pay enough attention to remember it all. She was old and got things confused.

"They was glad when freedom come but they lived on with Jimmie Stansberry. I remember them. Grandma raised me after my parents died. Then she lived with me till she died. She was awful old when she died. They would talk about how different Virginia and Louisiana was. It took them a long time to make that trip."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: Mattie Nelson 710 E. Fourth Street, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age: 72

"I was born in Chicot County, Arkansas in '65. They said I was born on the roadside while we was on our way here from Texas. They had to camp they said. Some people called it emigrate. Now that's the straightest way I can tell it.

"Our mistress and master was named Chapman. I member when I was a child mistress used to be so good to us. After surrender my parents stayed right on there with the Chapmans, stayed right on the place till they died.

"My mudder and pappy neither one of em could read or write, but I went to school. I always was apt. I am now. I always was one to work--yes ma'm--rolled logs, hope clean up new ground--yes ma'm. When we was totin' logs, I'd say, "Put the big end on me" but they'd say, "No, you're a woman." Yes ma'm I been here a long time. I do believe in stirrin' work for your livin', yes ma'm, that's what I believe in.

"I been workin' ever since I was six years old. My daughter was just like me--she had a gift, but she died. I seen all my folks die and that lets me know I got to die too.

"White folks used to come along in buggies, and hoss back too, and stop and watch me plow. Seem like the hotter the sun was the better I liked it.

"Yes ma'm, I done all kinds a work and I feels it now, too."

Interviewer: Mrs. Bernice Bowden Person interviewed: Dan Newborn 1000 Louisiana, Pine Bluff, Arkansas Age: 78

"I was born in 1860. Born in Knoxville, Tennessee. I suppose it was in the country.