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ROSA GREEN, 85 years old, was born at Ketchi, Louisiana, but as soon as she was old enough became a housegirl
on the plantation of Major "Bob" Rollingsworth at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the best of her knowledge, she was
about 13 when the "freedom papers" were read. She had had 13 children by her two husbands, both deceased, and
lives with her youngest daughter in Beaumont. Their one-room, unpainted house is one of a dozen unprepossessing
structures bordering an alleyway leading off Pine Street. Rosa, a spry little figure, crowned with short, snow-white
pigtails extending in various directions, spends most of her time tending her small flowerbeds and vegetable garden.
She is talkative and her memory seems quite active.
"When de w'ite folks read de freedom paper I was 13 year old. I jos' lean up agin de porch, 'cause I didn' know den
what it was all about. I war'nt bo'n in Texas, I was bo'n in Ketchi, but I was rais' in Manfiel'. Law, yes, I 'member de
fight at Manfiel'. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers and lef' at night. Lef' us little ones; say de Yankees could git us
effen day wan' to, 'cause we no good no way, and I wouldn' care if day did git us, Dey put us in a sugar hogshead
and give us a spoon to scrape out de sugar. 'Bout de ol' plantation, I work a little w'ile in de fiel'. I didn' know den
like I see now. Dese chillen bo'n wid no' sense now dan we was den. Dey was 'bout ten cullud folks on de place. My
ol' marster name Bob Hollingsworth, but day call 'im Major, 'cause he was a major in de war, not de las' one, but de
one way back yonder. Ol' missus work de little ones roun' de house and under de house and kep' ev'yt'ing clean as
yo' has'.
The ol' marster I thought was de meanes' man de Lawd ever made. Look like he cuse ev'y time he open he mouth.
De neighbor w'ite folks, some good, some bad. My work was cleanin' up 'roun de house and nussin' de chillen. Only
times I went to church when day tuk us long to min' de chillens. When de battle of Manfiel' was, we didn' git out
much. When de Yankees was comin' to Gran' Cane, my w'ite folks dig a big pit and put der meat and flour and all in
it and cover it over wid dirt and put wagon loads of pine straw over it. It was 'bout five or six mile to Manfield and
'bout 49 or 50 mile to Shreveport. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers and went off somewheres, day called it Texas,
but I didn' know where. De ol'er ones farm. Day rais' ev'yt'ing dey could put in de groun', day did. My pa was
kirrige (carriage) driver for my ol' missus. He was boss nigger fo' de cullud men when marster wasn't right dere. My
father jis' stay dere. See, day free our people in July. Dat leave de whole crop standin' dere in de fiel'. Day had to
stay dere and take care of de crop. After dat dey commence makin' contraks and bargins. I was 22 years ol' when I
marry de fus' time. Both my husban's dead. I had 13 chillen in all.
"De fus' time I went to church, missus tuk me and another gal to min' de chillen. I never heared a preacher befo'. I
'member how de preacher word de hymn:
'Come, ye sinners, po' and needy,
Weak and wounded, sick and so'.'
"I couldn' understan' it, but now when I look down on it I sees it now. I believe us been here goin' on fo' year' right
yere in dis house".
Green, Rosa -- Additional Interview
Rosa Green, 85 years old, was born at Ketchi, Louisiana, but as soon as she was old enough became a housegirl on
the plantation of her owner, Major "Bob" Hollingsworth at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the best of her recollection she
was about 13 when the "freedom papers" were read. Rosa has had 13 children by her two husbands, both now
deceased, and makes her home with her youngest daughter in Beaumont. Their unpainted house has only one room
and is one of a dozen similarly unprepossessing structures bordering an alleyway leading off Pine street. In the
midst of an otherwise barren yard, Rosa, a spry little figure, crowned with short, snow white "pigtails" of hair
extending in every direction on her head, spends most of her time in tending her small flower beds and vegetable
garden. She is talkative, and her memory seems quite active.
"W'en de w'ite folks read d' freedom paper I wus 13 year old. I jes' lean up agin' d' poch (porch) cas I didn' know
den what it wus all about. I warn't bo'n in Texas, I wus bo'n in Ketchi, but I wus raise in Manfiel'. Law, yes, I
'member d' fight at Manfiel'. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers an' lef' at night. Lef' us little ones; say d' Yankees
could git us ef'n dey wan' to, cas we no good no way, an' I wouldn' care if dey did git us. Dey put us in a sugar
hogshed (hogshead) an' give us a spoon t' scrape out d' sugar. 'Bout d' ol' plantation, I
work a little w'ile in d' fiel'. I didn' know den like I see now. Dese chillen bo'n wid mo' sense now dan we wus den.
Dey wus 'bout ten cullud folks on d' place. My ol' marster name Bob Hollingsworth, but dey call 'im Major, cas he
wus a major in d' war, not d' las' one, but d' one way back yonder. Ol' missus work d' little ones roun' d' house an'
under d' house an' kep' ev'yt'ing clean as yo' han'. The ol' marster I thought wus d' meanes' man d' Lawd ever made.
Look like he cuss ev'y time he open he mouth. De neighbor w'ite folks, some good, some bad. My work wus
cleanin' up 'roun d' house and nussin' d' chillen. Only times I went t' chuch w'en dey tuk us long t' min' d' chillen.
W'en d' Yankees wus comin' t' Gran Cane, my w'ite folks dig a big pit an' put der meat, an' flour, an' all in it an'
cover it over wid dirt an' put wagon loads of pine straw over it. It wus 'bout five or six mile' t' Manfield an' 'bout 49
or 50 mile' t' Shreveport. My ol' marster tuk all he niggers an' went off somewheres, dey call' it Texas but I don'
know where. D' ol'er ones farm. Dey rais' ev'yt'ing dey could put in d' groun', dey did. My pa wus kirrige (carriage)
driver for my ol' missus. He wus boss nigger fo' d' cullud men w'en marster wan't right dere. My father jis' stay dere.
See, dey free our people in July, dat leave d' whol' crop stanin' dere in d' fiel'. Dey had t' stay dere an' take care of d'
crop. After dat dey commence makin' contraks an' bargins. I wus 22 year' ol' w'en I marry d' fus time. Both my
husban's dead. I had 13 chillen in all. D' fus time I went t' chuch, missus tuk me an' anuther gal t' min' d' chillen. I
never heard a preacher befo'. I 'member how d' preacher word d' hymn:
"Come, ye sinners, po' an' needy, Weak an' wounded, sick an' so'."
I couldn' understan' it, but now w'en I look down in it I sees it now. I bleeve us been here goin' on fo' year' right yere
in dis house.
Green, Rosa -- Additional Interview
Rosa Green, 85 years old, was born at Ketchi, Louisiana, but as soon as she was old enough, became a housegirl on
the plantation of her owner, Major "Bob" Hollingsworth at Mansfield, Louisiana. To the best of her recollection she
was about 13 when the "freedom papers" were read. Rosa has had 13 children by her two husbands, both now
deceased, and makes her home with her youngest daughter in Beaumont. Their unpainted house has only one room
and is one of a dozen similarly unprepossessing structures bordering an alleyway off Pine street. In the midst of an
otherwise barren yard, Rosa, a spry little figure, crowned with short, snow white "pigtails" of hair extending in
every direction on her head, spends most of her time in tending her small flower beds and vegetable garden. She is
talkative, and her memory seems quite active.
"W'en I's a li'l gal I uster b'long to ol' marster Bob Hollingsworth over close by Mansfiel', Lou'siana. My father he
was a preacher, and his name was Dawson Adkins. My mudder name was Matilda, and dey bofe come from
Alabama. I 'members dey uster pray in de chim'ly corner. Sometimes dey uster set 'roun' de chim'ly and sing. One of
de songs dey uster sing go like dis:
'Set knee to knee and look in de place Hadn' you ruther be at home? Yes, Lawd."
"W'en de folks want to go to chu'ch dey hafter ax ol' marster and git a permit. I uster t'ink ol' marster de meanes'
man in de worl'. Dey couldn' go to chu'ch or anyw'ere iffen dey didn' had a permit. It was 'bout ten mile' to de
Bowman place w'ere de church was. Dat was close to Mansfiel'."
"I 'members dat w'en I's a li'l chile my mammy uster sing to me. She uster sing, 'Oh, Susanna' and I uster like to hear
dat song. But I can't tune dat song now to save my life."
"Dey uster tek care of de li'l chilluns. One t'ing dat give 'em lots of trubble was dem li'l t'ings w'at crawl 'roun' in yo'
head---dey call 'em head lice now but dey uster call 'em "boogers". Dey'd jis' hafter comb and comb, and eben den
sometime' dey couldn' git 'em out. W'en dey jis' couldn' git 'em out dey hafter shave dey head, and w'en dey do dat
dey warn't nuffin' to comb but jis' de bare skull."
"Lots of times dey bo' (bore) de chillen's ears. Dey stick a needle froo de bottom en' of de ear. Dey lef' de thread in
de hole, den ev'ry now and den dey pull de string and it warn't long befo' it heal up. Den dey put dey earring in."
"W'en de w'ite folks read de freedom paper I was 13 year' ol'. I jes' lean up ag'in de po'ch (porch) 'cause I didn'
know den w'at it was all 'bout. I warn' bo'n in Texas, I was bo'n in Ketchi, but I was raise' in Mansfiel'. Law, yes, I
'members de fight at Mansfiel'. My ol' marsta tuk all he niggers and lef' at night. Lef' us little ones; say de Yankees
could git us iffen dey want to, 'cause we no good no way, and I wouldn' care if dey did git us. Dey put us in a sugar
hogshead and give us a spoon to scrape out de sugar. 'Bout de ol' plantation, I wuk a little w'ile in de fiel'. I didn'
know den like I see now. Dese chillen bo'n wid mo' sense now dan we was den. Dey was 'bout ten cullud folks on
de place."
"My ol' marster name' Bob Hollingsworth, but dey call 'im Major, 'cause he was a major in de war, not de las' one,
but de one way back yonder. De ol' marster I t'ought was de meanes' man de Lawd ever made. Look like he cuss
eb'ry time he open he mouf. De neighbor w'ite folks, some good, some bad."
"My wuk was cleanin' up roun' de house and nussin' de chillen. Only times I went to chu'ch was w'en dey tuk us
'long to min' de chillen."
"W'en de battle of Mansfiel' was on, we didn' git out much. W'en de Yankees was comin' to Gran' Cane, my w'ite
folks dig a big pit and put de meat and flour and all in it, and kivver it over wid dirt and put wagon loads of pine
straw over it. It was 'bout five or six mile' to Mansfiel' and 'bout 49 or 50 mile' to Shrevepo't. My ol' marster tuk all
he niggers and went off somew'ers, dey call' it Texas, but I don' know w'er."
"De ol'er ones farm. Dey raise' eb'ryt'ing dey could put in de groun', dey did. My pa was kirrige (carriage) driver for
my ol' missus. He was boss nigger for de cullud men w'en marster warn't right dere. My father jis' stay dere. See,
dey free our people in July, dat leave de whole crop stan'in' dere in de fiel'. Dey had to stay dere and tek care of de
crop. Atter dat dey commence' makin' contracks and bargins."
"I was 22 year' ol' w'en I marry de fus' time. Bofe my husban's dead. I had 13 chillen in all. De fus' time I went to
chu'ch, missus tuk me and anudder gal to min' de chillen. I never heard a preacher befo'. I 'member how de preacher
word de hymn:
'Come, ye sinners, po' an' needy, Weak an' wounded, sick an' po'.'
I couldn' understan' it, but now w'en I look down in it, I sees it now. I b'leeve us been here goin' on fo' year' right in
dis house.
"I uster could run a car, and Lawd, how I'd git wid is. Dey didn' hab cars and dese t'ings w'at you hop 'roun' in, in
dem day'."
"De Lawd, He gimme good healt'. I ain't never been in bed sick two whole day' in my life. But, I's weak. Iffen dat
room could talk it would witness me dat right now. Den my eyes ain't too good. You kin see clear, but I jis' kin 'zern
(discern) you. My eyes are ol' for my glasses."
Nixon (February 9, 1938 (Yes))
