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1520 Pulaski Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age 62
"I have heard my father and mother talk over the War so many times. They would talk about how the white people
would do the colored and how the Yankees would come in and tear up everything and take anything they could get
their hands on. They would tell how the colored people would soon be free. My mama's white folks went out and
hid when the Yankees were coming through.
"My father's white people were named Taylor's--old Job Taylor's folks. They lived in Tennessee.
"My mother said they had a block to put the colored people and their children on and they would tell them to tell
people what they could do when the people asked them. It would just be a lot of lies. And some of them wouldn't do
it. One or two of the colored folks they would sell and they would carry the others back. When they got them back
they would lock them up and they would have the overseers beat them, and bruise them, and knock them 'round and
say, 'Yes, you can't talk, huh? You can't tell people what you can do?' But they got a beating for lying, and they
would uh got one if they hadn't lied, most likely.
"They used to take pregnant women and dig a hole in the ground and put their stomachs in it and whip them. They
tried to do my grandma that way, but my grandpa got an ax and told then that if they did he would kill them.
"They never could do anything with him.
"My mother's people were the Hess's. They were pretty good to her. It was them that tried to whip my grandma
though.
"You had to call everybody 'Mis'' and 'Mars' in those days. All the old people did it right after slavery. They did it in
my time. But we children wouldn't. They sent me and my sister up to the house once to get some meal. We said we
weren't goin' to call them no 'Mars' and 'Mis'.' Two or three times we would get up to the house, and then we would
turn 'round and go back. We couldn't make up our minds how to get what we was sent after without sayin' 'Mars'
and 'Mis'.' Finally old man Nick noticed us and said, 'What do you children want?' And we said, 'Grandma says she
wants some meal.' When we got back, grandma wanted to know why we took so long to go and come. We told her
all about it.
"People back home still have those old ways. If they meet them on the street, you got to get off and let them by. An
old lady just here a few years ago wouldn't get off the sidewalk and they want to her house and beat her up that
night. That is in Brownsville, Tennessee in Hayeard (Haywood) County. That's an old rebel place.
"White people were pretty good to the old colored folks right after the War. The white folks were good to my
grandfather. The Taylors were. They would give him a hog or something every Christmas. All the old slaves used to
go to the big house every Christmas and they would give them a present.
"My husband ran off from his white people. They was in Helena. That's where he taken the boat. He and a man and
two women crossed the river on a plank. He pulled off his coat and got a plank and carried them across to the other
side. He was goin' to meet the soldiers. He had been told that they were to come through there on the boat at four
o'clock that afternoon.
The rebels had him and the others taking them some place to keep them from fallin' into the hands of the Yankees,
and they all ran off and hid. They laid in water in the swamp all that night. Their bosses were looking for them
everywhere and the dogs bayed through the forest, but they didn't find them. And they met some white folks that
told them the boat would come through there at four o'clock and the white folks said, 'When it comes through, you
run and get on it, and when you do, you'll be free. You'll know when it's comin' by its blowin' the whistle. You'll be
safe then, 'cause they are Yankees.'
"And he caught it. He had to cross the river to get over into Helena to the place where the boat would make its
landin'. After that he got with the Yankees and went to a whole lot of places. When he was mustered out, they
brought him back to Little Rock. The people were Burl Ishman and two women who had their children with them. I
forget the names of the women. They followed my husband up when he ran off. My husband's first name was
Aaron.
"My husband had a place on his back I'll remember long as I live. It was as long as your forearm. They had beat him
and made it. He said they used to beat niggers and then put salt and pepper into their wounds. I used to tell daddy
that 'You'll have to forget that if you want to go to heaven.' I would be in the house working and daddy would be
telling some white person how they 'bused the slaves, and sometimes he would be tellin' some colored person 'bout
slavery.
"They sold him from his mother. They sold his mother and two children and kept him. He went into the house
crying and old mis' gave him some biscuits and butter. You ace, they didn't give them biscuits then. That was the
same as givin' him candy. She said, 'Old mis' goin' to give you some good biscuits and some butter.' He never did
hear from his mother until after freedom. Some thought about him and wrote him a letter for har. There was a man
here who was from North Carolina and my husband got to talking with him and he was going back and he knew my
husband's mother and his brother and he said be would write to my husband if my husband would write him a letter
and give it to him to give to his mother. He did it and his mother sent him an answer. He would have gone to see her
but he didn't have money enough then. The bank broke and he lost what little he had saved. He corresponded with
her till he died. But he never did get to see her any more.
"Nothin' slips up on me. I have a guide. I am warned of everything. Nothin' happens to me that I don't know it
before. Follow your first mind. Conscience it is. It's a great thing to have a conscience.
"I was born in Tennessee. I have been in Arkansas about forty-six years. I used to cook but I didn't do it long. I
never have worked out much only just my work in the house. My husband has been dead four years this last April.
He was a good man. We were married forty years the eleventh of December and he died on the eighth of April."
Interviewer Miss Irene Robertson"
