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Aged 111
Home "Flatwoods" district, Garland County. Own property.
"You'll have to wait a minute ma'am. Dis cornbread can't go down too fas'. Yes ma'am, I likes cornbread. I eats it
every meal. I wouldn't trade just a little cornbread for all de flour dat is.
Where-bouts was I born ? I was born right here in Arkansas. Dat is it was between an on de borders of it an dat state
to de south-----yes ma'am, dat 's right,
Louisiana. My mother was a slave before me. She come over from de old country. She was a-runnin' along one day
front of a --a-- dat stripedy animal--a tiger? an' a man come along on an elephant and scoop her up an' put her on a
ship.
Yes ma'am. My name's Clara Walker. I was born Clara Jones, cause my pappy's name was Jones. But lots of folks
called me Clara Cornelius, cause Mr. Cornelius was de man what owned me. Did you ever hear of a child born wid
a veil over its face? Well I was one of dem ? What it mean ? Why it means dat you can see spirits an' ha'nts, an all
de other creatures nobody else can see.
Yes ma'am, some children is born dat way. You see dat great grandchild of mine lyin' on de floor ? He's dat way. He
kin see 'em too. Is many of 'em around here ? Lawsey dey's as thick as piss-ants. What does dey look like? Some of
'em looks like folks; an' some of 'em looks like hounds. When dey sees you, dey says "Howdy" an' if you don't
speak to 'em dey takes you by your shoulders an dey shakes you. Maybe dey hits you on de back. An' if you go over
to de bed an lies in de bed an' goes to sleep, dey pulls de cover off you. You got to be polite to 'em. What makes 'em
walk around? Well, I got it figgured but dis way. Dey's dissatisfied. Dey didn't have time to git dey work done while
dey was alive.
Dat greatgrandchild of mine, he kin see 'em too. Now my eight grandchildren en' my three children what's a livin'
none of 'em can see de spirits. Guess dat greatgrandchild struck way back. I goes way back. My ol' master what had
to go to de war, little 'fore it was over told me when he left dat I was 39 years old. Somebody figgured it out for me
dat I's 111 now. Dat makes me pretty old, don't it?
There was another fellow on a joinin' plantation. He was a witch doctor. Brought him over from Africa. He didn't
like his master, 'cause he was Iean. So he make a little man out of mid. An' he stick thorns in its beck. Sure 'nuff, his
master god down with a misery in his back. An' de witch doctor let de thurn stay in de mud-man until he thought his
master had got 'nuff punishment. When he tuck it out, his master got better.
Did I got to school. No ma'am. Not to book school. Dey wouldn't let culled folks git no learnind. When I was a little
girl we skip rope an' play high-spy ( I Spy). All we had to do was to sweep do yard an go after de cows an' de pigs
an de sheep. An' dat was fun, cause dey was lots of us children an we all did it together.
When I was 13 years old my ol' mistress put me wid a doctor who learned me how to be a midwife. Dat was cause
so many women on de plantation was catchin' babies. I stayed wid dat doctor, Dr. Mc Gill his name was, for 5
years. I got to be good. Got so he'd sit down an' I'd do all de work.
When I come home, I made a lot o' money for old miss. Lots of times, didn't sleep regular or git my meals on time
for three--four days. Cause when dey call, I always went. Brought as many white as culled children. I's brought
most 200, white an' black since I's been in Hot Springs/. Brought a little white baby-----to de Wards it was----dey
lived jest down de lane-----brought dat baby 'bout 7 year ago.
I's brought lots of 'em an' I ain't never lost a case. You know why. It's cause I used my haid. When I'd go in, I'd take
a look at de woman, an' if it was beyond me, I'd say,
'Dis is a doctor case. Dis ain't no case for a midwife. You git a doctor.' An' dey'd have to get one. I'd jes' stan' before
de lookin' glass, an' I wouldn't budge. Dey couldn't make me.
I made a lot of money for ol' miss. But she was good to me. She give me lots of good clothes. Those clothes an my
mother's clothes burned up in de fire I had a few years ago right on dis farm. Lawsey I hated loosin' dose clothes I
had when I was a girl more den anything I lost. An' I didn't have to work in de fields. In between times I cooked an'
I would jump in de loom. Yes, ma'am I could weave good. Did my yards every day. I weave cloth for
dresses-----fine dresses you would use thread as thin as dat you sews wid today----I weaves cloth for underclothes,
an fo handkerchiefs an for towels. Den I weaves nits and lice. What's dat--well you see it was kind corse cloth de
used for clothes like overalls. It was sort of speckeldy all over-----dat's why de called it nits and lice.
Law, I used to be good once, but after I got all burned up I wasn't good for so much. It happened dis way. A salt lick
was on a nearby plantation. Ever body who wanted salt, dey had to send a hand to help make it. I went over one
day-----an workin around I stepped on a live coal. I move quick an' I fall plum over into a salt vat. Before dey got
me out I was pretty near ruined.
What did dey do? Dey killed a hog--fresh killed a hog. An' dey fry up de fat--fry it up wid some of de hog hairs an'
dey greased me good. An' it took all de fire out of de burns. Dey kept me greased for a long time. I was sick nearly
six months. Dey was good to me.
An one day, young miss, she married. Ol' miss give me to her 'long of 23 others. Twenty four was all she could
spare an' keep some for herself an save enough for de other children. We went to California. Young Miss was good,
but her husband was mean. He give me de only white folks whippin I ever had. Ol' miss never hed to whip her
slaves. I was tryin' to cook on an earth stove--dat's why it happen. Did you ever hear of an earth stove? Well, dey
make sort of drawers out of dirt. You burn wood in 'em. After you git used to it you kin cook on it good. But dat day
I was busy an' I burned de biscuits. An' he whip me.
I run off. I knew in general de way home. When I come to de Brazos river it looked most a mile across. But I jump
in an' I swim it. One day I done found a pearl handled pocket knife. A few days later I meet up wid a white boy. An'
he say its his knife, an' I say, 'White boy, I know dat ain't your knife, an' you know it ain't. But if you'll write me out
a free pass, I'll give it to you.' An' so he wrote it. After dat, I could walk right up to de front gates an ask for somthin'
to eat. Cause I had a paper sayin' I was Clara Jones an' I was goin' home to my ol' mistress Mis' cornelius. Please
paterollers to leave me alone. An' folks along de way, dey'd take me in an' feed me. Dey'd give me a place to stay an
fix me up a lunch to take along. Dey'd say, "Clara, you's a good nigger. You's a goin' home to your ol' miss. So we's
goin' to do for you."
An' I got within five miles of home before dey catch me. An' my ol' mas won't let me go back. She keep me an' send
another one in my place. An' de war kept on, an ol' massa had to go. An' word come dat he been killed.
Yes, 'em, some folks run off, an' some of 'em stayed. Finally ol' miss refugeed a lot of us to California. What is it to
refugee. Well, you see, suppose you was afraid dat somebody goin' to take your property en' you run dem away off
somewhere-------how you come to know.
When de war was over, young miss she come in an she ey, 'Clara, you's as free as I em.' 'No, I ain't.' says I. Yes, you
is,' says she. 'What you goin' to do ?' 'I's goin' to tay an' work for you.' says I. 'No'says she, ' you ain't cause I can't
pay you.' 'Well,' says I, 'I'll go home to see my old mother.' 'Tell you what,' says she, ' I ain't got nuff money to send
you, only part----so you go down to whar' dey is a'pannin' gold. You kin git a job at $2.00 per day.' Many's a day
I've stood in water up to my waist pannin' gold. In dem days dey worked women jest like men. I worked hard, an'
young miss took care of me. When I got ready to come home I bought my stage fare an' I carried $300 on me back
to my ol' mother.
De trip took six weeks. Everywhere de stage would stop young miss had writ a note to somebody and de stage
coach men give it to 'em an dey took care of me--good care.
When I got home to my mother I found dat ol' miss had give all of 'em somthin' along with settin 'em free. My
mother had 12 children so she git de mos'. She git a horse, a milk cow, 8 killin' hogs and 50 bushels of corn. She
moved off to a little house on ol' miss's plantation and make a crop on halvers. She stay on dar for three---four
years. Den she move off into another county where she could go to meetin without havin' to cross de river. An' I
stayed on wid her an help her farm----- I could plow as good as a man in dem days.
Finally I hear dat you could make more money in Hot Springs, so I come to see. My mother was dead by dat time.
De first year I made a crop for Mr. Clay-------my granddaughter cooks and tends to children for some of his folks
today. Then I went to town an I washed at de Arlington hotel. It wasn't de fine place it is today. It was jest boards
like dis cabin of mine. An' I washed at another hotel-----what was it----down across de creek from de Arlington.
Yes ma'am, dat's it. De Grand Central--it was grand too-----for dem days. An' I cooked for Dr. McMasters. An' I
cooked for Colonel Rector----de Rectors had lots of money in dem days. I could make a weddin' cake good as
anybody-----with a 'gagement ring in it. I could make it fine----tho I don't know but two letters in de book an' thoses
is A and B.
I married Mr. Walker. He was a hog carrier when dey built de old red brick Arlington. I remember lots of things dat
happened here. I remember seein ' de smoke from de fire--dat big one. We was a livin' near Picket Springs-----you
don't know whare dat is. Well, does you know where de soldier's breast work was----now I git you on to
rememberin'.
Den, later on we moved out an' got a farm near Hawes. I traded dat place for dis one. Yes, ma'am I likes livin' in de
country. Never did like livin' in town.
I don't right know whether culled folks wanted to be free or not. Lots of 'em didn't rightly understand. 01' miss was
good to hers. Some of 'em wasn't. She give 'em things before an she give 'em things after. Of course, we went back
an' we washed for 'em. But one mortal blessin. 01' miss had made her girls learn how to cook an' wait on
themselves.
Now take de Combinders. Dey was on de next plantation. Dey was mean. Many a time you could hear de bull whip,
clear over to our place, PLOP, PLOP. An' if dey died, dey jest wrapped 'em in cloth an' dig a trench, an' plow right
over 'em.
An' when de war was over, dey wouldn't turn dey slaves loose. An de Federals marched in an' marched 'em off. An'
ol' Mis' Combinder she holler out an she say, "What my girls goin' to do? Dey ain't never dressed deyselves in dey
life. We can't cook ? What we do ?' An' de soldiers didn't pay no attention. Dey just marched 'em off.
An' ol' man Combinder he lay down an' he have a chill an' he die. He die because day take his property away from
him.
Yes, ma'am, Thank you for the quarter. I's goin' to buy snuff. I gets along good. My grandson he hawls wood for de
paper mill. An' my granddaughters dey works for folks cooks an takes care of children. I had a good crop dis year.
I'll have meat, I got lots of corn, an' I got other crops. We're gettin' along nice, mighty nice. Thank you ma'am."
they soon got sold off. They mated a heap of them and sold them for speculation. No mam I didn't like slavery. We
had plenty to eat but they worked for all they got. Hed good fires and good warm houses and good clothes but I did
not like the way they give out the provisions. They blowed a born and measured out the weeks paratta for every
family. They cooked at the cabins for their own families. There was several springs and a deep rock walled well at
old mistress' house. Old mistress always lived in a fine house. I slept at my mother's house nearly all the time. She
had a big family. White folks raised me up to play with Ed till I thought I was white. They taught me to do right and
I ain't forgot it. I never was arrested. I married three times, bought three marriage license all in Prairie County. All
three wives died.
I owns dis house 'cept a mortgage of $50. One of my boys got in a difficulty. I don't know where he is to get him to
pay it off. The other boy he's not man enough either to pay it off.
I never did know jess when the Civil War did close. I kept hearing 'em say we are free. I didn't see much difference
only when Colonel Williams come back times wasn't so hard. Then he sold out and come to Arkansas. Then each
family raised his own hogs and chickens and finally got to have cows.
I was as scared of the Ku Klux Klan as of rattlesnakes. In Tennessee they come up the road and back just after dark.
They rode all night and if you wasn't on your master's own land and didn't have a pass from him or the overseer they
would set the dogs on you and run you home. Sometimes they would whip them.
Take them home to the old master. I never heard of no uprisings. People loved each other batter then than now.
They didn't have so ruch idle time. There was always some work to be doing. When they didn't mind they run them
with dogs and whipped them. The overseer and paddyrollers seed about that. The first day of the year every-body
went up to hear the rules and see who was to be the overseer. Then they knowed what to do for the year. They never
did kill nobody. No mam that was too costly. They had work according to their strength and age. The Ku Klux was
to keep order.
I been living in Hazen forty or fifty years. All I ever have done was farm sometimes one-half-for-the-other and
sometimes on share-crop.
I have voted but not lately. I votes a Republican ticket. I voses that way because it was the Republicans that set us
free, I always heard it said. I jess belongs to that party. Seems lack we gets easier times when the Democrats reign.
Colonel Williams was a Democrat.
The young folks are not as well off as I was at their age. They are restless and won't work unless they gets big pay
and they spends the money too easy. The colored people are too idle and orderless. They fight and hate one another
and roam around in too much confusion.
I gets from $3 to $8 last month from the Sociable Welfare. My children helps me mighty little. They got their own
children to see after and don't make much.
Colonel Williams and Ed are both dead. They did give me a lot of fine clothes when I went to see them as long as
they lived. I don't know where the girls hab gone. Scattered around. I oughter never left my good old home and
white folks. They was show always mighty good to me.
I never could sing much. I used to give the Rebbel Yell. Colonel Yopp give me a dine every time I give it. Since he
died I ain't yelled it no more. I learned it from Colonel Williams. I jess tock it up hearing him about the place.
(Little Rock District)
Name of Interviewer Irene Robertson
Subject Ex-Slave - Hunting
Henry Walker was born nine miles south of Nashville, Tennessee. Remembered the soldiers and ran to the windows
to see them pass. One day he saw a lot of soldiers coming to the house. Henry ran in ahead and said out loud, "them
Yankees are coming up here." The mistress slapped Henry, hid him and slammed the doors. The soldiers did not get
in but they did other damage that day. They took all the mules out of the lot and drove them away. They filled their
"dugout wagons" with corn. A dugout wagon would hold nearly a crib full of corn. They were high in front and
back and came down to a point, nearly touched the ground between the wheels. The wheels had pens instead of
axles in them. The children ran like pigs every morning. The pigs ran to at acorns and the children - white and black
to pick up chestnuts, sealy barks and hickory nuts. There were lots of black walnuts. "We had barrels of nuts to eat
all winter and the mistress sold some every year at Nashville, Tennessee. The woods were full of nut trees and we
had a few maple and sweet gum trees. We simmered down maple sap for brown sugar and chewed the sweet gum.
We picked up chips to simner the sweet maple sap down. We Used elder tree wood to make faucets for syrup
barrels. There were chenquipins down in the swamps that the children gathered." Henry Walker said that they were
sent upon the hills to find ginsing and often found long beds of it. They put it in sacks and a man came and bought it
from the mistress. The mistress name was Mrs. Williams.
This information given by Henry Walker
Place of Residence Hazen, Arkansas
Occupation Farmer.AGE 79 She kept the money for the ginsing and nuts too when she sold them.
Henry said he attest Mrs. Williams', but the other children ate at the cabin. On Saturday evening the horn would
sound and every slave would come to get his allowance of provisions. They used a big ball hung up in a tree to call
them to meals and to begin work. They could also hear other farm bolls and horns. Colored folks could have dances
in they would get permission. Some masters were overseers themselves and some hired overseers. Patty Roll was a
white man and the bush-wackers give us trouble sometimes.
On January first every year everybody ate peas and "hog jole" and received the now rules. The masters would say,
"don't be running up here telling me on the overseer." They had a bush harber church and the white preacher came
to preach to black and white sometimes. They taught obedience and the Golden Rules. No schools - Henry said
since freedom the white men had cheated him out of all he had over made with pon-and-ink. Me rather be whipped
with a stick than a writing pon. He said Mr. and Mrs. Williams were good people. Henry learned to limit his cocks
and gloves at night watching the grown people. They made a certain number or broches every night. He liked that.
Henry said Mr. Williams Ret him carry his gun hunting with him and taught him how to school squirrals. They were
plentiful. He had a lot or dogs. The master wont to the deer stared and Henry managed the twelve hounds. He didn't
like to fox hunt. About a hundred men and thirty dogs, horns, etc. cut for the chase. They came from Nashville and
in the counter. A fox makes three rounds from where he is jumped and then widons out. They brought "fine
whiskey" cut on the chases.
When they had corn shuckings one negro would sit on the fence and lead the singing, the others chuck on each side.
The master would pour out a tin cup full of whiskey from a big jug for each corn shucker, and Mrs. Williams would
give each a square of gingerbread.
Mr. Williams set aside a certain number of acres of land every year to be cleared, fenced and broke for cultivation
by spring. Six or bight men worked together. They used tong-hand sticks to carry the logs to the piles where they
were burning them. A saw was a side show, they used mall, axe and wedge. After the log rolling there would be a
big supper and a good one. The visitors got what they wanted from the table first. "That was manners."
"We took turns going to the Methodist church at Nashville with Mr. and Mrs. Williams. They went in the fine
carriage and the maid hold the baby but anybody else rode along behind on horseback. The carriage horses were
curried every day, kept up and ate corn and fodder. Mr. and Mrs. Williams came to Nashville to big weddings and
dances often.
After Henry Walker came to Hazen, Colonel Yopp had him feed his dogs and attend him on big foz hunting trips.
Since Colonel Yopp died January 1928 Henry seldom, or perhaps has never sung the song he sang to Colonel for
dimes if he needed a little change. He learned the song and whoop back in Tennessee in slavery days. He said
William Dorch (colored boy) took it up from hearing him sing for Colonel Yopp and would write it for me and sing
it and give it with the old Carolina, Georgia and Tennessee whoop.
Interviewer Mrs. Bernice Bowdan"
