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1215 W. Twenty-Fourth Street, Little Rook, Arkansas
Age 105?
"My native home is Alabama, I was born not far from Midway, Alabama, about twelve miles from Clayton.
Midway, Clayton, and Barber are all near-by towns. We used to go to all of them.
"My master was Tom Eford. When he died, I fell to Polly Eford. Polly Eford was the old lady. I don't know where
they is and they don't know nothing about where I is. It's been so long. Because I done lef' Alabama fifty years. I
don't know whether any of them is living or no. It's been so long.
"Their baby boy was named Giles Eford. My mother was Miami Eford and my father's name was Perry Eford. That
is the name he went in. My mother went in that name too. My father died the second year of the surrender. My
mother was a widow a long time. I was a grown-up woman and had children when my father died.
"I married during slavery time. I don't remember just how old I was then. My old man knows my age, but I can't
remember it. But he's been dead this year makes thirteen years. I had one child before the surrender. I was just
married to the one man. I was married after the surrander. I don't want to be married again. I never seed a man I
would give a thought to since he died. Lord knows how long we'd been married before he died.
"We came here and stayed four years and we bought a home down on Arch Street Pike about ten miles from here. I
lived there sixty years.
I've got the tax receipts for sixty years back. I ain't never counted the ones I paid since he's been dead.
"I was the mother of three children and none of them are living. All of them dead but me.
"They made like they was goin' to give old slave folks a pension. They ain't gimme none yit. I'm just livin' on the
mercy of the people. I can't keep up the taxes now. I wish I could git a pension. It would help keep me up till I died.
They won't even as much as give me nothin' on the relief. They say these grandchildren ought to keep me up. I have
to depend on them and they can't hardly keep up theirselves.
"When the Civil War broke out, my baby was about seven years old. My mother was here when the stars fell. She
had one child then.
"I remember a war before the Civil War. I heard the white folks talking about it. They wouldn't tell colored folks
nothin'. They'd work them to death and beat them to death. They'd sell them just like you sell hogs. My mother was
sold from me when I was little. Old lady Eford, she was my mistress and mammy too. If she ever slapped me, I don't
know nothin' 'bout it.
"My daddy made his farm jus' like colored people do now. White man would give him so much ground if he'd a
mind to work it. He had a horse he used.
"We lived a heap better than the people live now. They fed you then. You ate three times a day. When twelve
o'clock come, there dinner was, cooked and ready. Hothin' to do but eat it, and then set down and res' with the other
people. There was them that was good!
"But them what was mean done the colored folks bad.
"I was little when my mother was sold from me. I was runnin' about though in the yard. I couldn't do nothin'. But I
was a smart girl. The first work I can remember doin' was goin' to the field ploughing. That is the first thing I
remember. I was little. I just could come up to the plough. I out logs when I was a little child like them children
there (children about ten years old playing in the street). I used to clean up now ground---do anything.
"My mother and father both worked in the field. My father was sold away from me jus' like my mother was. Old
lady Eford was my mother and father too. That was in Clayton, Alabama. Old Tom Eford had three boys--- one
named Tom, one named William, and there was the one named Giles what I told you about. William was the oldest,
Tom was the second, and Giles was the youngest.
"I never learnt to read and write. In slave time, they didn't let you have no books. My brother though was a good
reader. He could write as well as any of them because he would be with the white children and they would show
him. That is the way my brother learnt. He would lay down all day Sunday and study. The good blessed Lord
helped him.
"The man I married was on the plantation. They married in slave time just like they do these days. When I married,
the justice of peace married me. That was after freedom, our folks would give big weddings just like they do now
(just after the war). I ain't got my license now. Movin' around, it got lost. I was married right at home where me and
my old man stayed. Wasn't nobody there but me and him and another man named Dr. Bryant. that wasn't far from
Midway.
"I can't talk much since I had those strokes. Can't talk plaing just have to push it out, but I thank God I can do that
much. The Lord let me stay here for some reason---I don't know what. I would rather go, but he ain't called me.
"We got up after daylight. Tom Eford didn't make his folks git up early. But after he was dead and gone, things
changed up. The res' made 'em git up before daylight. He was a good man. The Lord knows. Yes Lord, way before
day. You'd be in the field to work way before day and then work way into the night. The white folks called Eford's
colored people poor white folks because he was so good to them. Old Tom Eford was the sheriff of Clayton.
"His folks came back to the house at noon and et their dinner at the house. He had a cook and dinner was prepared
for them just like it was for the white folks. The colored woman that cooked for them had it ready when they came
there for it. They had a great big kitchen and the hands ate there. They came back to the same place for supper. And
they didn't have to work late either. Old Tom Eford never worked his hands extra. That is the reason they called his
niggers poor white folks. Folks lived at home them days and et in the same place. When my old man was living, I
had plenty. Smokehouse was full of good meat. Now everything you git, you have to buy.
"Next morning, they all et their breakfast in the same kitchen. They et three meals a day every day. My mother
never cooked except on Sunday. She didn't need to.
"Me and old lady Eford would be out in the yard and I would hear her cuss the pateroles because they didn't want
folks to 'buse their niggers. They had to git a pass from their masters when they would be out. If they didn't have a
pass, the pateroles would whip them.
"The jayhawkers would catch folks and carry them out in the woods and hang them up. They'd catch you and beat
you to death.
"Colored folks what would run away, old lady Eford would call them 'rottenheads' and 'bloody bones.' We would
hear the hounds baying after them and old lady Eford would stand out in the yard and cuss them---ouss the hounds I
mean. Like that would do any good. Some slaves would kill theirselves before they would be caught. They would
hear them dogs. I have seen old Tom Eford. He would have then dogs. He was sheriff and he had to do it. He
carried them dogs. He would be gone two weeks before he would be back sometimes. Alden or Alton was the place
they said they carried the runaways.
"They never kept no slaves for breeding on any plantation I heard of. They would work them to death and breed
them too. There was places where old massa kept one for hisself.
"Folks had heap more pleasure than they do now in slave time. They had parties and dances and they would bow
'round. They had fiddles and danced around them. Folks danced them days. They don't dance now, just mess
around.
My brother could scrape the fiddle and dance on, all at the same time. Folks would give big suppers and ask people
out. They would feed nice times with one another. Folks ain't got no love in their hearts like they used to have.
"Folks would give quiltings. They don't think about quilting now. They would quilt out a quilt and dance the rest of
the night. They would have a big supper at the quilting. Nice time too. They would kill a hog and barbeque it. They
would cook chicken. Have plenty of whiskey too. Some folks would get drunk. That was whiskey them days. They
ain't got no whiskey now---old poison stuff that will kill people.
"My daddy was jus' drunk all the time. He had plenty of whiskey. That was what killed old Tom Eford. He kept it
settin' on the dresser all the time. You couldn't walk in his house but what you would see it time you got in, Folks
hide it now. I have drunk a many a glass of it. I would go and take a glass whenever I wanted to.
"The old white folks told me I was free. They had me hired out. I wasn't staying with my owner. There wasn't
nobody there with me but the white folks where I was staying. That morning I got up to get breakfast and there
wasn't no fire and there wasn't no matches. I went to some neighbors to get a chunk of fire and they told me to go
back to my folks because I was free. When I got back to the house they was mad and wanted to whip me. So I just
put the fire down and never cooked no breakfast but jus' went on to my brother's. The reason they wanted to whip
me was because I had gone outside of the house without their knowing it.
"When I went to my brother's, I had to walk twelve miles. My brother carried me to my mother and father. And then
he took me back to old lady Eford, and she told me to go on to my mother, that I was free now. So he took me on
back to my ma and pa. He said he'd do that so that I could stay with them.
"Slaves had money in slave time. My daddy bought a horse. He made a crop every year. He made his bale of cotton.
He made corn to feed his horse with. He belonged to his white folks but he had his house and lot right next to theirs.
They would give him time you know. He didn't have to work in the heat of the day. He made his crop and bought
his whiskey. The white folks fed 'im. He had no expenses 'cept tending to his crop. He didn't have to give Tom
Eford anything he made. He just worked his crop in his extra time. Many folks too lary to git theirselves somethin'
when they have the chance to do it. But my daddy wasn't that kind. His old master gave him the ground and he
made it give him the money.
"My daddy left me plenty but I ain't got it now. I didn't care what happened when he died. People made out like they
was goin' to put my money in the bank for me and took it and destroyed it. Used it for theirselves I reckon. How I
need it and ain't got it---ain't got a penny. For five or six years at my home, I made good crops. We raised
everything we needed at home. Didn't know what it was to come to town to buy anything. If anybody had told me
twenty years ago I would be in this shape, I wouldn't have believed it because I had plenty.
"They said they was gwine a give the slaves something, but they never did do it. Then the master made out like he
was gwine a give the slaves so much if they stayed 'round and made his crops for him, but he didn't do it.
"If the Lord lets you git back tomorrow, try and come a little sooner in the day than you did today. I gits up about
six in the morning. I don't believe in layin' in bed late. I go to bed directly after dark and I wake up early. The Lord
never did mean for nobody to sleep all day."
A number of people testify to Laura Thornton's age. I am trying to check up on it. Results later. If she isn't a
hundred And five years old, she is "mighty nigh" it. She has feeble health, but a surprisingly alert mind, and a keen
sharp memory. She has a tendency to confuse Reconstruction times with slavery times, but a little questioning
always brings out the facts.
She doesn't like to talk much about marriage in slavery. Evidently she dislikes the fact that one of her children was
born before emancipation. She was evidently married only once, as questioning brought out; but she will refer to the
marriage before emancipation and the one afterward as though they were to different persons.
Ah'm one uv dem ole timers. Ah been here since way back yonder. Fust thing ah kin member is a bad storm an mah
ma put us undah de baid. She was skeered hit would blow us away. Ah use tuh play till ah got bigger nuff tuh work.
Ah member we use tuh play runnin. We'd play walkin tuh see which one uv us could walk de fastest tuh de field tuh
carry dinner. We use tuh jump an we use tuh ride stick hosses an limbs offn trees.
Ole boss learnt mah pa how tuh make shoes an de way he done: Dey kilt a cow an a deer an take dey hides an
tanned dem. De way he tanned hit was tuh take red oak bark an white oak bark an put in vats. Dese vats was
somethin like troughs dat helt water an he put a layer uv oak asbes an or layer uv ashes an a layer uv leather till he
got hit all in an covered wid water. Aftuh dat dey let hit soak till de hair come offn de hide den dey would take de
hide oft an hit was ready fuh tannin. Den de hide was put tuh soak in wid de redoak bark. Hit stayed in de water till
de hide turnt tan den pa took de hide out uv de redoak dye an hit would be a purty tan. Hit didn' have tuh soak so
long. Den he would git his pattern an cut an make tan shoes outn dat tanned hide. We called dem brogans. We all
wore shoes cause mah pa made em.
We planted indigo an hit growed jes like wheat. When hit got ripe we gathered hit an we would put hit in a barrel an
let hit soak bout er week den we would take de indigo stems out an squeeze all de juice outn dem, put de juice beck
in de barrel an let hit stay dere bout nother week, den we jes stirred an stirred one whole day. We let hit set three or
four days den drained de water offn hit an dat left de settlings an de settlings was blueing jes like we have dese
days. We cut ours in little blocks. Den we dyed clothes wid hit. We had purty blue cloth. De way we set de color we
put alumn in hit. Dat make de color stay right dere.
Ah'll tell yuh how tuh dye. Er little beech bark dyes slate color set wid copper. Hickory bark an bay leaves dyes
yellow set wid chamber lye; barboo dyes turkey red, set color wid copper. Pine straw an sweetgum dyes purple, set
color wid chamber lye. Ifn yuh don' bleave hit try em all.
Mah ma made cloth while mah pa made shoes. Ah member jes as good when dey handcuff mah ma's two brothers
tuh keep um from runnin off when dey got ready tuh sell em. Ah seed um handcuff as meny as eight tugethuh when
dey marched dem tuh de pen. Yuh know dey had uh pen kinder like de pond pen fer cows an hosses. Well dey
would drive us niggers tuh de pond pen an dey had or big block in de pen an dey put one uv us niggers on hit at a
time. Bid us off tuh de highest bidder. Mah ole boss was a gambler. People talk bout dis gamblin an drinkin bein a
late thing --- dem white fokes done hit way back yonder 90 years ergo, cause mah ole bose gambled me off, ah clare
he did. Gambled me off one Sunday mornin'. Ole Boss made whiskey jes like dey do tuhday.
Black preachers couldn' preach tuh us. Ole boss would tie em tuh a tree an whoop em if dey caught us eben praying.
We had er big black washpot an de way we prayed we'd go out an put our mouths to der groun an pray low an de
sound wud go up under de pot an ole boss couldn' hear us. De white preacher would call us under a tree Sunday
evenin tuh preach tuh us. Dis is whut his text would be: "Mind yo mistress." Den he would ceed tuh preach ---
"Don't steal der potatoes; don't lie bout nothin an don' talk back tuh yo boss; ifn yo does yo'll be tied tuh a tree an
stripped neckid. When dey tell yuh tuh do somethin run an do hit." Dat's de kind uv gospel we got.
We cooked on fiuhplaces in er iron pot; cooked bread in a ubben. We had ash cakes. We et purty good.
Ah didn go tuh school. Ah was awful sly. Ah wanted tuh learn tuh read so ah hung aroun ole mistess when she was
teachin huh chillun tuh read. Ah listened an when she put de book down an went out ah got de book. Ah kep' hit up
till ah learnt tuh read. Ah been teachin one Bible class in Curtis 42 years. Some uv em dare ask me how ah learnt
tuh read so good an ah tole dem dat a person dat couldn' learn tuh read in a hunnert years ought tuh be daid.
Ah was twenty-two when de silver war broke. Ah know when hit started but ah don' know whut hit was arbout. All
I know Jeff Davis an Abraham Lincoln was de two presidents. Lincoln was somethin like regular president an Jeff
Davis was somethin like er confedric president or somethin. Ah didn' know jes how hit was. Jeff Davis ah think was
or rebel and Lincoln republic. When de fight come up dey wuzn fightin tuh set de niggers free, ah don' think. At de
time dey was fightin ovah de Union but aftuh de slave owners was gwinter take de innocent slaves an make den
fight on dey side. Den Lincoln said hit wouldn' be. So dat when he sot em free. Whoopee! Yo ought ter seed dem
Yankees fightin. Aftuh de battle was ovah we would walk ovah de battle groun' an look at de daid bones, skellums
ah think dey called em. Aftuh de white fokes tole us we was free dey didn' give us nothin. Turnt us out widout a
place tuh stay, no clo'es but whut we had on our back an nuthin tuh eat. We jes slept undah trees an roun bout. Didn'
have nuthin tuh eat cept parched corn. We stole dat. Had tuh do somethin. De nex year de white fokes let us make a
crop wid dem fuh somethin tuh eat an clo'es an de women could work fuh a few clo'es an somethin tuh eat. So in er
year er two niggers went tuh tryin tuh duh somethin fuh demselves, an been tryin tuh help dey selfs evah since. Ah
know all bout hit. Ah was tall an ah is now when dey cried "Free!" Ain't growed nairy nother inch.
Interviewer Mrs. Bernice Bowden"
