Lynda Carriveau interview with John Alex Merritt Jr., Annie Lee Merritt, Lottie Fraser, Archibald William Touchton, and Bob Carriveau

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Interviewer Lynda Carriveau is the wife of Bob Carriveau, daughter of John Alex Merritt, Jr. and Annie Lee Merritt, and granddaughter of Lottie Fraser. The interview starts with Archibald William Touchton singing Poor Uncle Ned, Druknards Doom, and Little Mary Fagen. He then tells a Pat and Mike Story about a cow and a tic. Then, Lynda Carriveau interviews Lottie Fraser who tells a ghost story about a man who married a rich girl and murdered his brother for his money. She then sings John Hardy. Next, Lynda interviews Bob Carriveau who talks about his father who lived in Spruce, Michigan, and shares riddles. He then discusses his mother, whose family was originally from Germany. He shares German superstitions she held about regarding weddings. He next discusses his grandparents, remembering a story his grandfather told him about the old country when he caught a hoop-snake. Carriveau then shares superstitions about the moon and describes a few pro-proberbs, or rhyming superstitions. Ending his interview by singing My Good-Looking Man, a song from Bobs grandfather. John A. Merritt is interviewed next, first sharing a ghost story about his bedsheet falling onto the floor every time they went to sleep. He then tells a story about buried-treasure-hunting. He talks about fishing and sings Lord Tomas and Fair Ellender, Charlie Lawson, Love Always Has its Way, Hangman, Hangman, Slacken Your Rope. Next, Lynda Carriveau interviews Lottie Fraser. She tells a story about a man who spent the night in the only bed in a home with seven children; he woke up in a different place than he fell asleep. She shares another story about a traveler who is rescued by attach by a whining dog. Afterwards, Mrs. Merritt shares a story called Why the Cat Washes its Face After it Eats Instead of Before. Archibald William Touchton speaks about living in Moultrie, Georgia, during World War I and then moving to Statenville. He explains the expression Sooner eat dog and tells a couple of fanciful stories about locals, the Brunswick salt mines, and a preacher who tried to disprove predestination but failed.
Lynda Carriveau (ne Merritt) (1947 - ?) was born to John A. Merritt and Merritt (ne Fraser). She has nine siblings: Evelyn Granade (ne Merritt), David Merritt, Janice Mathis (ne Merritt), Sarah Watson (ne Merritt), Gwen Allen (ne Merritt), Mark Merritt, Rhonda Williams (ne Merritt), Marvin Merritt, and Joseph Merritt. She is married to Bob Carriveau and lives in Leesburg, Georgia. She attended Worth County High School. John Alex Merritt Jr. married Annie Lee Merritt (ne Fraser) (1928 2017), and they had ten children: Lynda Carriveau (ne Merritt) (1947 - ?), Evelyn Granade (ne Merritt), David Merritt, Janice Mathis (ne Merritt), Sarah Watson (ne Merritt), Gwen Allen (ne Merritt), Mark Merritt, Rhonda Williams (ne Merritt), Marvin Merritt, and Joseph Merritt. Annie Lee Merritt (ne Fraser) (1928 2017) was born to John David Fraser and Lottie Fraser (ne Parrish) in Statenville, Georgia. She married John A. Merritt, and they had ten children: Lynda Carriveau (ne Merritt), Evelyn Granade (ne Merritt), David Merritt, Janice Mathis (ne Merritt), Sarah Watson (ne Merritt), Gwen Allen (ne Merritt), Mark Merritt, Rhonda Williams (ne Merritt), Marvin Merritt, and Joseph Merritt. Lottie Fraser (ne Parrish) (1888 1972) married John David Fraser, and they had four children: William Wallace Fraser, Lloyd Fraser, Cordele Fraser, and Annie Lee Merritt (ne Fraser) (1928 2017). She lived in Echols County. Archibald William Touchton (1901 1984) was born to Levin G. Touchton (1875 1952) and Mary Lee Touchton (1879 1913). He had eight siblings: Narcissa Cinderalla Tomlinson (ne Touchton) (1905 2000), Mary Sarah Fouraker (ne Touchton) (1902 1979), Charles Eugene Touchton (1909 1984), Kizzie Lee Touchton (1913 1913), Levin Thomas Touchton (1904 1987), James Thomas Touchton (1912 1982), and Lloyd Wilcox Touchton (). He was married to Ruby L. Touchton (1904 - 1939), and they had a son, Garland A Touchton (1926 - ?). He registered for the WWII draft in 1941. He was a lawyer and lived in both Florida and Georgia. Bob Carriveau is married to Lynda Carriveau (n Merritt) (1947 - ?). They live in Leesburg Georgia.
Proverbs; Family history
1 I am talking with Mr. and Mrs. John Merritt, my parents, on a chilly night (the twentieth of October) in their living room. Their present address is: P. O. Box 102, Warwick, Georgia 31976. Both were born in southern Georgia--my mother in Echols County in 1928 and Dad in Atkinson County in 1911--"next-to-the-youngest of seven." P/ / /'.' ~r and Mrs. John Merritt. They are standi~g by the birdfeeder shop in Warwick where he ' works part-time. My mother finished high school and married the day after. Dad only went through eighth grade but scored 2 high on a government employee test and now has a good job at the Marine Base in Albany. Ever since I can remember he has avidly devoured the newspaper and every book he can get, so his education is now, I'm sure, equivalent to a high school graduate's. The stories he will tell to us, he heard from his parents and others as he was growing up on the farm. Mom knows a lot of songs which she learned from her father, John Fr'l3.ser, who learned them "allover, traveled a lot while he was still single." He was born in 1876 and died when Mom was in high school. His parents came over to the United States from Scotland. Mom says that for a man her father used to sing a lot, ~ and I quess it's good he did. Partly because of it, today my mother still remembers quite a few that she hasn't sung or heard sung in many years. Lynda: We are at mY parents' home in Warwick, Georgia-Mr. and Mrs. John Merritt, and my father's going to tell some stories that he heard when he was young. Dad: I've heard my mother say--her and Dad moved to a house one time. And they put up the bed and started to bed that night. Ever time they bout go to sleep the cover'd be off in the f16or--spread out. They'd git up and git the cover agin. An' go back to bed--the cover'd do the same thing over agin--be out in the ficor. They couldn't keep the cover on. After a while Mother she couldn't stand it anymore. She made Dad take her away from that house that night. She couldn't stay the night in ~he house. Lynda: Do you know any more ghost stories like that? J Dad: Well, not right now. Lynda: Well, tell us the one about the buried treasure that you told us. (When my father first told this tale, the treasure was Jerked out of their hands almost taking their fingers with it.) Dad: Well, I heard a feller say one time that he went buried-treasure hunting when a feller had a money deal. Man that had the de-ul told 'em he had to git a preacher to pray while they dug the treasure. And they went an' got a old Nigger preacher an' tak'n him along. They went to an old place thet been laying out fer a long time--a old farm place, an' they located the treasure With this money deal. An' they made a circle round the place they uz gonna dig, an' one uf 'em go in and dig at the time While the old Nigger got off to the side and wuz gonna pray While they wuz diggin'. He got down ta praying an' one of 'em got ta diggin'. Kept camin' possums up through the woods. Gitting all round the old Nigger while he wuz praying there. Un t'reckly, they got ta climbin' allover 'im. They's more possums comin' through the woods--all around the old Nigger-- all ~ him and so he looked up and said, "Damn the possums'" and run. LAUGHTER They missed the treasure an' couldn't dig hit. Lynda: What happened to it? Dad: Well, I don't know. They seemed to say that the treasure disappeared after the old Nigger run that a way. That's all I know about it. The Nigger couldn't stay there in all them possums. LAUGHTER (The following are songs that I never heard my mother sing--didn't even know she knew them.) Lynda: Now Mom, would you sing ~Lord ThomaS and Fair Ellender" for us ag tin? Mom: Come riddle me, Mother; come riddle me now-Come riddle us both in one. Must I marry fair Ellender, Or bring the Brown gi~ home? 0 home-Or bring the Brown girl home? Come riddle me, Mother; come riddle me now-Come riddle us both in one. Mixed it all up. Lynda: Well, How does it go? Mom: The Brown girl, she has houses and land; Fair Ellender, she has none. I'll say to you with the best 0' my love, Go bring the Brown girl home--O home-Go bring the Brown girl home. Come riddle me, M~ther; come riddle me now-Come riddle us both in one. Must I go to Lord Thomas's wedding, Or must I stay at home? 0 home-Or must I stay at home? Oh, many and many may be your friends And many may be your foe. I'll say to you with the best 0' my love, Lord Thomas's wedding don't go--don'lt go-Lord Thomas's wedding don't go. Oh, many and many may be my friends, And many may be my foe. I'll say to you with the best of my love, Lord Thomas's wedding I'll go--I'll go-Whether you are willing or no. Lord Thomas, Is this your wonderful bride? Is this your wonderful Brown? You once could've married as fair a girl As ever the sun shown on--shown on-- As ever the sun shown on. The Brown girl, having a little pen knife That she had lately found, She cut fair Ellender'& head from her shoulders 4 5 And rolled it on the ground-And rolled it on the ground. Lord Thomas, him having a s~ord by his side, He waved it round and round. He cut the Brown girl's head from her shoulders And rolled it on the ground-- And rolled it on the ground. Go dig me a grave; go dig it deep . Go dig it wide and deep. And place fair Ellender in my arms And the Brown girl at my feet-And the Brown girl at my feet. If any of the children comes around Inquiring where I am, Just tell them I'm gone to sleep With dear fair Ellender in my arms And the Brown girl at my feet-- And the Brown girl at my feet. Lynda: Where did you hear this story--this song? Mom: My father use ta sing it when I was a girl. ~lom : Lynda: Now you said you would sing one for us called "Charlie Lawson." How does that go? His name was Charlie Lawson. He had a "loving wife, But no one knew what caused him To take his fam'ly's life. He killed his wife at first, they say While the little ones did cry, "Please, Father, won't you spare our lives? It is so hard to die." But the raging man could not be stopped. He did not hear their cry. He ktlled six children and his wife, And then he closed his eyes. They buried them all in a crowded grave While the angels watched above Come home, come home, my dear little ones To the world of peace and'love. They did not carry him to jail; No lawyer did he pay. He'll have his trial in another world On that final jUdgement day. Lynda: Did your father sing this one, too? Mom: No. I just heard it from some friends when I was a gitl. Lynda: When you were little? Was that a real person? Mom: I believe it was. Lynda: Oh. o. K. Mom says that the name of this one is in the last line so-- Mom: The judge was there, the jury, too, And people from afar. A fair young lad and tender youth Was prisoner at the bar. The great court room was crowded With eager, anxious throng. And many hearts were aching For the boy accused of wrong. A maiden fair with golden hair Came swlftly through the crowd. The people gazed in wonder But spoke no word aloud. She walked up to the judge's stand. One moment did she pause. Then turning to the jUdge, she said, "Please let me plead the cause. Now Judge, your mind must wonder back Through those long years gone by, And see your sweetheart and yourself Just as this lad an~' I. 6 7 Tomorrow was our wedding day, Sweet dreams of wondrous life, When at the altar he would make Me, his dear loving wife. Unless you aim to blight our lives, Don't say that we must part. Remember, Judge, your loving wife Was once your dear sweetheart." Then, turning to the jUry To make her simple plea, "This prison1r here is very sad. I'm sure you II set him free." The jUdge rose softly from his seat. The court was still as death. The tears were trickling down his cheeks; He spoke in faltering breath: "I have a little girl at home With just such baby eyes, And seeds of mercy scattered here Will flarish in the skies." 0" The jury did not leave the room, For they had quickly agreed. And everyone, he signed a note, And gave the clerk to read. Not guilty, were the only words The maiden heard them say. Her lover clasped her in his arms: "Love always has its way." Lynda: That's good. Did people sing these songs a lot--this type of song? Mom: Yes, a good bit. Lynda: Is that how you remember them so well? (I asked this question because her memory of the words to these songs seemed ama~ing. But Mom has a great memory. She still remembers the whole of "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere" among other things she memorized as a girl.) 8 Mom: Well, partly, and another thing, I just liked to memorize things when I was a girl. Lynda: All right. Good! ("You orta go see Lem Griffith if you want to hear some stories. He can rightly tell some whoppers!" Dad didn't much want to tell stuff he had heard Lem say, because, I guess, he felt it was Lem's to tell. But he did tell this one.) Well, Dad, have you thought of any more stories yet to tell us? Dad: Well, I useta go fishin' a lot. I lived down in Clinch County--an-' useta go to Swannee River fishin' a. lot. Went to Lem Griffis's fish camp on the Swannee River. Asked Lem how the fish was bitin'. He told me they was doin' poorty good cuz he'd jest went the day before by an old stump out dere in the river. Said he caught 'em so fast that he wore a hole in the water--wore a hole in the water comin' out. LAUGHTER I went down there didn't do quite as good but I caught some fish. Lynda: Didn't you say you used to know Lem very well? Dad: Yeah. Used ta go down there a lot fishin', huntin'. Go down there deer-huntin . there at his camp fishin' a lot Swannee River, Billy's Lake. (The way Mom was looking I could tell she had thought of another song.) Mom: This one's called: "Hangman, Hangman, Slacken Your Rope". Hangman, Hangman, slacken-your rope, And slacken it for aWhile. I thi~ I see my own dear mother Come runnhng from many a mile Come running from many a mile. 9 o Mother. have you brought my silver and gold? And have you paid my fee? Or have you come fOr to see me hung Under this junipher tree? Under this junipher tree. I have not brought your silver and gold. I have not paid your fee. But I have come for to see you hung Under this junipher tree. o Hangman. Hangman. slacken your rope. And slacken it for awhile. I think I see my own dear brother Come running from many a mile. o Brother. have you brought my silver and gold? And have you paid my fee? Or have you come for to see me hung Under this junipher tree? Under this junipher tree. I have not brought your silver and gold. I have not paid your fee. But I have come for to see you hung Under this junipher tree. o Hangman. Hangman. slacken your rope. And slacken it for awhile. I think I see my own true love Come running from many a mile Come running from many a mile. My love. have you brought my silver and gold? And have you paid my fee? Or have you come for to see me hung Under this junipher tree? o I have brought you silver and gold. And I have paid your fee. But I have not come for to see you hung Under this junipher tree Under this junipher tree. LY,nda: O.K. Good. (My mother later thought of part of another song which she wrote down for me: 10 Little Orphan Girl No home, No home, Cried the little orphan girl While the snow flakes covered her head. Oh, give me a home, she feebly cried. A home, and a piece of bread. The rich man lies on his velvet couch, And dreams of his silver ani gold, While the poor little girl Makes her bed in the snow And murmers, I'm cold, so cold. The next morning dawned, and the 11ttle girl Still lay at the rich man's door, But her soul had fled To that world above Where there's room and bread for the poor~ While my parents almost never tell these stories and sing these songs, tommorow we will go to Echols County (about a hundred miles south of here) where my grandmother,' Mrs. Lottie Fraser, who often tells stories of long ago, lives. And where I hope to find other residents who can recall some old stories or songs or tell me of the way life used to be. It's the twenty-first of October, and we are now at my grandmother's home, sitting around a crackling fire built in an old wood heater (stove, she calls it). My mother has come with us. On the porch are many pots of different kinds of flowers. Hanging from the ceiling are ropes that my grandmother uses in making her quilts. (See picture on next page) -------------------------- - -- 1J my grandmother is always ready to help anyone she can. And when you visit her home you always feel welcome. Lynda: We are nbw at my grandmother's house, Mrs. Lottie Fraser, in Statenville, Georgia. And now Gran, would you tell us the story about you know. (I wanted her to start with this story because it1s my favorite. I've heard her tell it many times on the occassions when a bunch of us grandchildren would spend the night with her. The whole floor would be covered with mattresses she would lay down for us to sleep on, and then she would say with a laugh, "Reminds me of the story about ...... ) Grandmother: One time there was a man. He went to a place to spend the night. And the feller saw they didn't have but jist one bed. But they had seven children, and he looked around, and he said, "Well, I wanted to spend the night but you haven '.t got but one bed." But he said, "Oh that's all right. You're plum welcome to spend the n:lJI." So he wondered where in the world would he sleep at--the house was so small. So evertime one of the little children went to sleep they'd lay him on the bed, and finally they all went to sleep and him and theman set and talked and talked and talked and after while he tak'n the children ann stood 'em upside the house. And he says, "Mister, You can occupy the bed." Says I went to bed and I wondered where they went. LAUGHTER Said next morning, when he got up, he was a stand_ ing upside the house--and the old man and the old lady was in the bed. LAUGHTER Lynda~ That's good. (She remembers another story to tell us.) How does that story go? Grandmother: There's a man one time he wuz a travelin' a foot 14 and he stopped at a place to spend the night. And the man told him he was sorry but he couldn't let him spend the night but to go to the next house and he could spend the night there. And so, he says, "Don't stop at the first house. Go on to the next 'un. n But he wuz tar'd, you know. So he went'in and the man told him, "Yes, Sir, just come right in." And said when he got ready to go to bed he carried him upstairs. And said he walked in and he said that after he got in, he noticed they wuz a bed lying here--the first room he went through waz a bed there--but somebody had slept on it and it looked like nobody hadn't never made it up. But he went in the next room and it was~. So he went to bed and he covered up. And said t'reckly a little dog come out of the close~.and whined and pulled an' pulled an' pulled. And he wondered what in the world's the matter? And he slapped the dog back and told him to go on out. And he'd come back an' pull on him ag'in. And finally, the little dog'd whine an' go back to the closet and finally, he got up and said, "I'll see what you want." And he went and looked in the.,closet and there wuz a dead man in there. An' he knew then that that wuz the reason that the dog--that that dog belonged to that dead man. And that wuz-the reason the bed wa'nt made up. Lynda: Well, how did the man get in the clos~t? Grandmother: They, they had went to his boys--him and his two boys had went in there and killed him, you tnow, and put hirn--didn't have time to hide him, so they just put him in this here box and put in the closet and shut the door. I mean pushed the door to. And so he studied what in the world to do, and he could hear 'em a mumblin' an' talkin' way down stairs. And after while he got up an' tak'n the little dog, and he hugged it up in his arms. An' he got right by--he couldn't get out, the doors wuz locked, an' he couldn't get out--so he got right behin~ the door back that a way and he waited. And said after while he could see a little dim light and two men a comin' with a can 'Ie, creepin' up the stairs, and he jest stepped back behind the door, and when fuey shoved the door op~~ and went into the other room, he takes the dead ma~Jan' puts him in his bed, ya see, an' he gits behind the door an' hides an' when he walked in, he jist stood there a -- ------------------------, 15 holding the dog an' he walked on in his roo~, ya see, he had to go out of this dead man's room into the other room. When he got in there he just went down them stairs as hard as he could run. And now, this is a true story. And he run jist as hard as he could, with that little dog hugged up in his arms, and when that dog died)he died in Floridy. He was old, ya know, an' they put a tombstone--the man ~ut a tombstone to his grave, an' they laughed-people did--aQ~ said, "What are you puttin' a tomb. stone to tha~:g~ave fer?" He says, "That dog saved my life." An' he told 'em what happened. Now that wuz a true story. Lynda.: Where did you hear this story? Grandmother: In Floridy where I wuz raised years ago. Lynda: And that's a true story? Grandmother: That's a true story. Says where in the world-why in the world did you put that tombstone to a dog's grave fer? He said, "That dog saved my life." Lynda: That's right. He did. Grandmother: And he up an'told 'em just how that dog had done, ya see, he--that was before he went to this country, ya see. And he had carried that dog there and worked right there in Floridy. (She said that was all the stories she could recall at the time. Meanwhile, Mom had gotten hungry, gone into the kitchen, and come back with a sandwich. My grandmother said, "Here I been sittin' around and ya'll are hungry. Reminds me of " Wait! Let'us turn the recorder on. I knew a story was coming up.) Lynda: O.K. Now tell it. I want to hear it. Grandmother: There's a feller one time, he come along with a wagin and he had a man in. there an' he says, they 16 stopped at a man's house; he says, "What in the world are you hauling him off fer?" He says, "He's sorry; he won't work; and ya can't make him do nothin' but set around an' eat. An' he says he's not able to eat--not able to work." Says, "Well, don't carry him off 'cause he's sorry." Says, "I'll give him a bushel a corn." And the old feller raised up and says, "Is it shelled?" He said, "No." Said, "Well, just drive on in your cart." LAUGHTER "Jist drive ya cart on." (My grandmother has a remarkably steady voice and alert mind for one her age.) Lynda: That was a good one. (Mom said, "You've heard the stories about animals, and why they do things, haven't you? Like, "Why the Cat Washes its Face After It Eats Instead of Before?" No, we hadn't heard that one.) Lynda: All right, Mom. Why ~ the cat wash its face after it eats instead of before? Mom: Long years ago cats used ta wash their face before they ate just like everyone else. Once this big cat caught a rat and he was playing with him before he ate him. So he would let the rat get away a little piece, then he would pounce on him and catch him ag'in. So finally he decided to eat him. And the rat told him--he said, "Turn me a loose just one more time so you can wash your face before you eat, and then you can eat me" So he turned the rat a loose one more time to wash his face, and while he was washing his face the rat ran away. So since then, cats have always washed their face after they ate instead of before. ------ LAUGHTER We went to many other homes in the community, but the people didn't either seem to know any 17 folklore or want to tell us any. If I mentioned my grandmother's name, they would act very kindly and give us the name of someone who might could help us. If I didn't mention her name, they would act like their privacy was being invaded. Finally, we get my mother to go with us (my husband and I). And about sixo'clock we get .on an old dirt road, and Mom remembers that the lawyer for the community, Mr. A. W. Touchton, lives "back in there." He and his wife were very friendly, and came outside to meet us. Mom was surprised that they still remembered her. While my mother talked with Mrs. Touchton, fir. Touchton came over and talked' with me. When he found out what I wanted, he said, yes, he could think of a few things that we might want to hear. So he allowed us to bring the tape recorder in. We set i.t up and all sat aroun{i the dining table in a very homey atmosphere and recorded the interview and folklore he knew. Lynda; We are at another home in Statenville, Georgia now, and could you please tell us your name, Sir. (He and his wife live outside of the "town", and their mailing address is: Route 1, Lake Park, Georgia.) Touchton: My name is A. W. Touchton--course I wuz born and named Archibald William~~my grandfathers--both grandfathers-- Archibald, my mother's father and William, my father's father. 18 Lynda: Oh, I see. Where were you born? Touchton: That is about fifty feet from where we're sitting. Lynda.: Really? Touchtonj To the west. Lynda: Uh-huh. Touchton: Back of this house. Lynda: Uh- huh. So you've lived here all your life? Touchton: No, I lived fer six years here--seven years. And then my father moved his family frum here to about nine miles south of Moultrie in Colquitt County on the south--southern line of Colquitt County. And we stayed there until near the end of the First World War, and then he moved us back--moved his family back to this county;about two miles south of where we're sittin' now--between here and Statenville. Lynda: What year were you born? Touchton: I was born in nineteen-hundred one. Lynda: Nineteen-oh-one. Touchton: The ninth day of February,nineteen-hundred one. Lynda: And you said you were gonna tell us some stories. What --can you tell us something about these stories? Touchton: Well, these stories that I'm tellin' were told to me by a or rather told in my presence, by my children's grandmother, Mrs. Eletha Thomlinson, who is now deceased. Lynda: All right. 19 Touchton: The first one that I kin recall quite readily is what occurred in the home of her husband soon after she and her husband married. And that was not very far away frum here. Her husband wuz one of eight or nine Children, and in their homes they had several young min and several young ladies-some of ' em nearly grown. The occurence that I'm going to tell you about is --happened in the summer of the year in question. The young men--my Children's grandfather wuz a young man--young married man--went to, out into the field where coons--racoons--had been breaking in-eating the roasting ear 0' corn,and brought two nice fat young coon in. And my children's grandfather enjoyed eating well-prepared racoon. But the grandmother and, didn't fancy it so much, but she would allow the girls to prepare it. Her brother came. Her brother was Roland Roberts, who is the grandfather of Winifred Roberts, who lives not far away from here, made the--he, was Visiting his sister, who was the old mother in the home. And the boys come in an' brought the--an' dressed the coons and the girls had made quite a dish of the delicacy of the day, and this--she knew that Roland Roberts who, by the way wus a veteran of .the Civil War, didn't eat coon. So she whispered in his ear when no one was listening that there'd be coon on the table at noon meal. ,SO~-but he pretended not to hear it; so when they called to dinner, they had a long table-bout four feet wide and about ten or twelve feet long. An' benches with no backs on each side and, chairs at the end. So they Sat Grandfather Rol--I call him Grandfather becuz'he was my great-grandfather-in a chair at one end and his brother-in-law, the father of ~e home, sat in a chair at the other end of the table. So they started serving, after the blessing had been said, and started serving an' they passed this plate; and they had previously agreed that they wuz going to call .tt "turkey". And the--so they started passing it and the father of the home wa1ted on his plate and passed it down the side--young men dishing out, waiting on their plates, an' come on down to Grandfather Rol. And he says uh--someone says, "Uncle HoI, will ya have some 'turkey?'" "Huh? Turkey? Hum, that's growler!" He wouldn't eb'n touch it. So he got into argument then with his brother-in-law at the other end of the table. His brother-in-law says, "Why, Rol, 20 Coon's good. You oughta try it." "NO, I don't eat coon." "Well, why don't you eat coon?" Said, "Sooner eat dogL" Lynda: (Laughs. ) Touchton: That was the expression--"Sooner eat dog." So that ended that story. Lynda: . What is a growler? Touchton: Growler was a coon. He: called a coon, a growler. Lynda: Oh. That's what they call it ? Touchton: Raccoon. We know 'em as raccoons, ya know, officially. But we out here in the country, we call 'em coons, you know. We leave the rae off of it. -,. Lynda: Okay. What~s the next story? Touchton: Now, let's go to another story, that was told 'bout a church way before the Civil War, not far north of Howell, between Howell and,'Naylor, and this near the northern edge of this county. The story goes that back in those days they held protracted: meetings in the church that lasted quite a long time. And at this particular time, this widow lady living a long just within sight of of the church, an' she fuad one little boy. I would presume from the nature of the tale that he wuz something like six or eight years of age. So she would attend church regularly every day. And, well, this time she left the boy at the house to look after some cooking that had been in the process. And so she went on to church and sat near the back where she could keep an eye out to the--see if there wuz any need fer her. And pretty quick, the young lad came running up to the church door, and he tried to motion to his mother--come out, see. Come out there; he had sumpin to tell her. She'd wink at him to be qUiet, wink at him to be qUiet,_ ,and he got a little bit 21 exasperated. Says--finally, he says, "Mamma, you can wink and you can blink, but that sheep head's gonna butt ill them dumplins out o' that pot!" LAUGHTER Lynda: That's good. Okay. What's the next story? Is that a true story? Touchton: Those were told to us as true stories. Lynda: Uh Huh. Touchton: Now this I know is true also. Back before the Civil War this country wuz not very thick settled as it still is t 'day. It's very sparsely settled. Few people live in the country here and the nearest neighborS of ten times wuz miles away. Back in those days, they had to go Savannah once a year--the men folks generally, would go to Savannah once a ~ear to buy their year's supply of staples--staple groceries, staple anything, whateyer it might be or a pair 0' tools for the farming operations or what have you. At this time a young man and his bride lived in a house with the fields were cleared all the way around--one hundred fifty, maybe two-hundred yards from the house all the way around. And they had been gone qUite some time, and so--they were supposed to be in, but this lady wuz stayin' by herself, and this lady happened to be my great-great-grandmother. She wuz there by herself, and her husband had gone with the group to Savannah, and was'soon to return or expected to return in the next two or three days. She, one day she heard a turkey gobbling, off at a distance, and she'd listen for it, and then it didn't gobble anymore. She came to the door, and she wuz there. Next day, bout the same time she heard that turkey gobblin' from close by--closer by. Then she went to the door and didn't see or hear anything. And the third day--the day before they got home--that turkey gobbler gobbled just outside the fence. And she went to the door and she saw an Indian stand up behind the fence and then drop back down. That wuz the-time when Billy Bow-Legs and his cohorts had not been driven out of this C.OVflltl"~. That wuz back in the eighteen and thirties. So she saw that,but she knew-- how to use the old muz22 zler-loader shotgun. And she loaded it, had it ready. But is seems that somehow or other the people came back, her husband came back, that same evening and she told him of the si tu,ation. And he got out-stirred around--but couldn't find anybody. But he did say that later on, as she told it, that this husband of hers went off--got a group of men together--and they were gone some day or so and when they came back they reported that there would be no more frightening the women-folks when they were gone. But talkin' about that kind of a situation, we have--there's another one that I would like to mention that happened right here where we're sitting. A little back of the house here where I wuz born~- where my father wuz born before me twenty-five years over, wuz a little single pSh log cabin 11~sitting out back of this house here. And at this time there were--out front, they wuz some old slave quarters, slave cabins, ~nd the people had hired some Negro servants, or Negro ChoPPer5>, to cut cross~ties--hew'cross-ties,in this which was quite a growing concern then back in this country. And they--two of 'em, 'wuz occup/r'ing one of those cabins, and they would have "to came to this ' place here where there was a well 0' water for the ,; r water supply. And my grandmother decided' that they were a little bit too forward, and she wouidn't spend much, wouldn't be aroun~ where they could, see her very much. They, so, but they~did come one morning after water, and she told em to open the gate and come on to the well and get the water and get on back. But this fellow wanted to stop and chat'a litple bit anJ she didn't like that. She had her muzle loader shotgun hanging on pegs over the dpor. She picked it down and.... He'd made the remid,rk already that he didn't think she could shoot anybody-shoot him. She took it down; and 'he dashed for the gate. "Wait, let me get out to the gate." He got out there and dashed behind a big gate post and says, "Please let me get to the cabin out there." So he got to the cabin and dashed in behind it. That night an old owl got into one of these trees back here that's still standing where her chickens were, and tryihg to push the chicken off the roost so the old owl could catch the chicken, and she-the chicken wuz kept fussin' and makin' noise and fussin' about it; finally, she got out with her shot gun-my father wuz a young chap. I wuz maybe four or five years old. She got him to help her locate the owl. But anyway, she got out the door, the front door, 2) and looking for the owl up the tree he flew, in the direction of this Negro cabin. And she up with her shotgun and when the owl wuz right in line with the cabin, she cracked down on the owl' and I don't know whether she kilt it or not, but next mornin', they-those colored people had been makin'a lot 0' noise up until that tim~but next morning they reported that the shot .in that, from that gun hit the chimney and fell trito their hoecakes 0' corn bread that wuz on the hearth beirg baked. Lynda: (Laughs). Gosh. Touchton: Back in those days, though, before the Civil War and a long time afterward, people in this country had to go to the coast, and they generally would go to the coast along, in the neighborhood of Brunswick, to get their salt. The only way they could get salt at that time--the salt mines had been shut off from them. We have salt mines in the northwest but they had been shut off from this area; and they had to to to the coast in order to get the--their salt. So these, I have seen~thirty-gallon pan--we call'um a kettle~~open, Wide open kettle that those people would boil their, the sea water down to get the water out of the salt, and the-in that way, get the oalt for their year's supply. That wuz one of the things that people in this country had to do back then. Going to the coast recalls something that happened in my young manhood. I didn't get to go, on this particular trip, but my father and a neighbor went along, several of 'em went in wagons, to the c'::>ast, to the Gulf Coast, to the fi sheri es. And going on, they, the Ulr. Pierce, Mr. Billy P~rce , the father of Mr. Frank Pierce who lives down the way here, had to be the cook. So he laid down the law to the folks that if they didn't like his cookin' they'd have to do the--cook the nex~, sornthin' to eat. So they come back sayin' that he'd burn the hoecake 0' corn bread or scorch somethin' else thet they were cookin' an' someone 'ud start complainin' and says, "Paul, ypu burnt the hoe cake, but I like it that way." He says. Save himself from havin' to cook. Lynda: Yeah. That's right. Touchton: 24 There ~s, back in the early days before the Civil War, the Baptist churches in this country were united; the Primitive Baptist and the Missionary Baptist were in one group back in the eighteen and thirties. The story is told about a very personable preacher of the church, realizing that they were going to divide--the church was facing a division--on the subject of predestination, so he figured that if he could get the people to eat--both sides of the division to eat together--that they would maybe stay together. So he made the provision for a big chicken dinner to the church, and all the members were invited. And they were havin' quite an enjoyable occasion, but it seems that two old fellows got to arguing back off to one side on the subject of predestination; and one of 'em spoke up an' says, to! I , "Now I kin prove presdination is the rule. It is the thing it. There's no way around it." Says,"An' I can prove that." So he picks a chicken leg outa, off the table and says, "Now I'm pre-des-tined to eat this chicken leg, and no power under the sun can prevent it. So if YOQgot any other way of showin' that it cain't be, better speak up now." But he reached up there 'n' bumped him on the elbow 'n' the chicken leg flew out of his hand an' the old hound dog picked it up 'n' run off with it. So he was not pre-des-tined to eat that chicken leg! LAUGHTER Lynda: That's good. .SIDE .II Lynda: Now I believe you said that you would try to sing some songs for us. What are these? Touchton: Well, one is a song of, that came out of the Civil War, prior to the Civil War; back in slavery days in the South, and we call it"Uncle Ned." Lynda: How's that go? Touchton: "Fool' Uncle Ned." Lynda: How's that go? Okay~ 25 Touchton: P?-rdon? Lynda: Go ahead. Touchton: Uncle Ned was a slave. And he had learned to play the fiddle,for the people to dance by, and he had quite a record; so, in his last days, he--a song was either written or sung by him er for him. And it goes something like this: Ole Uncle Ned, he's dead, dead-Dead 'long go, 'long go. He had no ha'r up on top 0' his haid, De place whar de gG~a ha'r ta grow. woo OV~ht"" Lay down the shovel and the hoe--O, Hang up the fiddle and the bOw--O. No more hard work for Poor Uncle Ned, He's a gone whar de good Nigger goes. Poor Uncle Ned, he's dead, dead-Dead 'long go, 'long go,' He had no teeth to eattcornbread So he had t'let the cornbread go. Lay down the shovel and the hoe--O, Hang up the fiddle and the bow--O. No more hard work for Poor Uncle Ned, He's a gone whar de good Nigger goes. That's two stanzas of "Uncle Ned." Lynda: Mmhmm. Touchton: Now there's an9ther one that was sung--I've heard my father sing~many times; and he has repeated that, many times, that 'he learned it from his father or maybe his grandfather. And that's called the "Drunkard's Doom": They .. let's see, it goes something like this: A dram of a good whiskey is a ~ery good thing. It a makes a man merry, and it cause him to sing. But a 11 t tle too .1ll.Y.Qh.,wi 11 put him to sleep. 26 He Hup! What shall I do? He Hup! Where shall I go? Ach Hum! When will I ever get home? As I wuz a lyin' upon my bed They shook the old brandy kag over my head. Oh, I thought, I thought in my soul That they would kill me stone dead. He Hup! What shall I do? He Hupl Where shall I go? Ach Huml When will I ever get home? As I wuz a' walkin' down by the well, It's a my foot slipt, and it's down I fell. Fair a well world, a good-bye heb'n and a howdy do. He Hupl What shall I do? He Hupl Where shall I go? Ach Hum! When will I ever get home? Lynda: That wuz good. Okay. (We asked him if he knew any Pat and Mike stories. He said yes, he could think of one.) Okay, Mr. Touchton, tell us a Pat and Mike story. Touchton: Well, there's one that I can recall that had to do with a tic. Lynda: 'ric? had little away know, back in the early days we our country here, and they were on our cows, md take them--take Touchton: A tic. Ya cattle ticks in fellas that get their vitality. Pat, he had just come over into this country, and uz walkin' along a road in the South here. He'd heard someone talk about dipping cows because they had tics on 'em. They had to kill the tics so that they wouldn't be,so that it'd ~eep the cows healthful. We'll say it that way. Anyway, he was walkin' along, and he didn't know what a tic was. He saw something shiney 'bout an inch and a half, two inches in diameter, round,and a little flat, on the road; Somebody had lost it. And re looked at it--examined it from afar and examined it a little closer, and the closer he got he could hear it say, tic, tiC, tic, tic, tic, tic, tiC, tic. And he never heard about--had never seen a tic--didn't know what it was, so he figured that that was a tic. So he goes out to. the edge of the road, piCks 27 him up a lighter knot and comes back an' beats it into fEnders. LAUGHTER It turned out 0' course, as you may very well understand, that that tic that he killed was a watch. Lynda: That I s good. (While I was talking with Mr. Touchton, his wife and my mother were getting together and writing down what words they both could remember of the song, '~ittle Mary Fagen." Mr. Touchton, then added what he remembered and tried picking out the tune on the piano. They wanted him to be the one to sing it; so he said he would try.) Touchton: Here's a song that we sang as a child--that I sang as a child--my sister and me; and it grew out of a tragedy in the city of Atlanta. The tille of the song; is "Little Mary Fagen." This child, rlary Fagen, ~oung lady, who was killed, and a song was written for her becau--because of it. Little Mary Fagen, she went to town one day. She went to the pencil factory to see the big parade. She left her home at eleven, and kissed her mother good-by; The poor child never thought that she was going to die. Leo Frank, he met her, with a brutal heart, we know. He smiled and said, "Little Mary, now you'll go home no more." He sneaked along behind her 'til he got to the metal room; Then he laughed and said, "Little Mary, you've met your fatal doom." She fell upon her knees, and to Leo Frank, she pled, While he took a stick from the trash pile and hit" her o'er the head. The tears rolled down her rosy cheeks, while the blood flowed down her back; But she still remembered her mother, and what time she woul~ TIBback. 29 As we were leaving,the Touchtons said that it had been a treat for them, because they never got to do stuff like that anymore; and that they enjoyed it greatly. Lynda: We are now back at my grandmother's house, and I think you said you could tell us a ghost story. Is that right? Grandmother: Uh Huh. One time they wuz a pore man married a rich girl. Lynda: Min hmm. Grandmother: And the girl's parents weren't willin' to it, and they lived off a little piece; and everytime they'd come to see her they'd throw off on him--make fun of him, ya know. And he come in at dinner one day and she wuz tellin' him about it; and 'he says, "You jest bundle up what clothes you can tote in a handkerchief and I'll bundle up what I can tote, and we'll leave, and we'll travel just as long as we got land to travel on." 'Says "We're leaving." So they done that. And they traveled fer miles and miles and'miles. And they passed a house that was empty~-looked like--and went to another house that!was close by, and asked if he could spend the night. And says, "It looks lik e it's gonta be bad weather and I don't want my wife to get wet." He S8.yS, "Mister," he says, "That house right down y.on.der that you just passed", ~ says, "is well-furnished and everything--stay there just as long as you waqt to. But I haven't got room enough here in this house. My famly's too big." He says, "That is, if you can keep the door shut." Says"l rThat' s the reason I left everything just ~~ it tis." So they went in and got 'em some splinters and made 'em up a little fahr. And they was sittin' there talkin' and terreckly a cat walked in. And he says, "Well, that is a purty cat, 30 itn't it?" It got up and walked out. And a big ole cat walked in. He says, "Well, that's the biggest cat I ever seen." He turned and walked out. And a little dog walked in and he says, "Well, thatone all these animals must belong to that man down there." Said. "Yeah." And he walked out. And direckly a Q1g ole dog walked in and stood. there, and he says, "I know that's where they come from is from th~t house down there." So they went on out. And the wind begin to blow, an~ it begin to drizzle rain and so he went to the door and shut hit. An' time he sat down, it flew open. He got up an' fastened it an' it flew open. Says, "Well, he said,if we c,)uld keep the door shut." So they just left it open. And t'reckly a man walked in with his head off, an' he stood there and looked at 'em. But when he walked in, this girl's husband jumped up and run out. And he didn't wanna leave his wife but he couldn't stay in there, so he run around ani hid in the chimney corner. And while he was there, this man said to her--she sat there and studied what to do, and terreckly she says, "What in the name of the Lord are you here fer?" He says, "Lady, you're the first person that's ever been spoke--that's ever spoke to me since I was kiJ.led." He says, "Don't be worried now." He said, "Listen to what I'm a tellin' ya now careful" Says, "Don't worrv. Your husband ain't gone nowheres. He's arou~ there in the chimney corner." Says, "My brother killed me fer my money but he couldn't find it." And says, "I want you to have it." And he says, "If you'll come an' go with me, I'll show it to ya." So she got up and walked out with him, and when she did, her husband walked along. So they all went on. And he went in an old buildin', in an ole log house, and he went to one of the logs an' he pulled out a plug-~stppper, you know, pulled it out and hand her so much money an' he went to another place an' he pulled that out and hand it to her. An' he says, "Now come and I'll show you my grave and you do what I tell ya. This money is yores." So they started back to the house, and there was just a little straw ever where and leaves. He walked to a place--says, "Right there," says, "you see, is where my brother buried me at," an' says, "nob,ody cain't--ain't never found me. They don't know what went wi' me." He says, "All I ask ya to' do, is go git the )1 Sher~ff tomorrow". And he told her how fer she'd have to go to git him. But says, "You git him an' bring him here time the sun rises good. And bring him here and tell him I says if he didn't believe it, to git my brother and bring him here and let him touch this grave with his fingers like that (taps the chair where the microphone is with finger) an' says, it'll bust into a glory 0' blood. And they said when he done that that there was fresh blood there. He done that to convict his brother, ya see, fer murderin' him. He murdered him, ya see, fer his money. Lynda: Gosh. Grandmother: But I thought that was the longest story I'd ever heerd told. Lynda: Ghost story? Grandmother: Uh Huh. (As my grandmother talked, I noticed that she frequently used gestures and a lot of different facial expressions. She enjoyed telling the stories. Also, she was not in the least embarrassed about the microphone and hardly seemed to know it was there.) My_address is: 1467 Ponce de Leon Ave. N.E., Atlanta, Georgia. )0)07. The date is November 17th Lynda: My mother only taught us kids one ballad an' that was so we could sing it for my grandmother when we visited her about twelve years ago. It was supposed to have been my grandfather's favorite. It's called, "John Hardy." John Hardy, he was an attractive little man. He carried a gun every day. He killed a man on the West Virginia line; Yo~ught to 'ave seen John Hardy gettin' away, 32 You ought to 'ave seen John Hardy gettin' away. He made his way to the East on the way. He made his way by the sea. Then up stepped a man and took him by the hand-Sayin' , "Johnny, come along with me." Sayin', "Johnny, come along with me." John Hardy, he had a pretty little girl. The dress that she wore was red. She came skipping down to the old jail hall Sayi~"Pappa, I'd rather be dead." Sayin', "Pappa, I'd rather be dead." John Hardy, he had an attractive little wife. The dress that she wore was blue. She followed him down to the hanging ground, Sayin', "Johnny, I'll be true to you." Sayin', "Johnny, I'll be true to you." Well, I been to the East, and I been to the West; Been the whole world around. Been to the river, and I been baptized, And now I'm on my hanging ground, And now I'm on my hanging ground. Folklore coll~cting, I learned, is not an easy job. There's a certain way you have to talk to people, certain questions you have to ask, and even certain Phraseology you have to use! For instance, one informant told me the title of a song. I said, "How's that go?" He thought that I was asking him to repeat what he had said, when actually I wanted him to sing the song. I would never use these words in that way, but that was the way he had always interpreted them. I, also, found that the odds for doing a thorough job are against you in situations of hurnied JJ interviews such as is forced upon certain students by lack of time and money. It goes without saying that, if a person could live near and talk with his informants informally and over several days' time, the insights to those informants and their beliefs would be greater. The former pages contain the folklore and the background data that I was able to find in the South. They are representative of the Southern way of life. On the succeeding pages are recorded the folklore of Northern origin which I was able to obtain. Therefore, I have placed it at this part of the report to separate the two. My informant was my husband, Bob, who is from Alpena, Michigan. Alpena originated as a lumber town. Because of its location at ~he mouth of the Thunder Bay River, it was a prime site for sawmills and was the shipping outlet for that area of Michigan. (See reverse side of map.) Lynda: Bob, my husband, remembers some riddles that he heard from his father. Where was your father born? Bob: My father was born in a log cabin in Spruce, Michigan. Lynda: On a farm? 34 Bob: Yeah--on a farm. Lynda: When was he born? Bob: Let's see, he's fifty so that would make it 1917. Lynda: Okay. Where did he hear these riddles? Bob: Oh. He heard 'em from his older brothers who had heard 'em from his dad. He did--he never knew his dad, actually. His dad died when he was a baby. I think he was two or three years old. Lynda: Where was his father from? Bob: His father was from Canada originally. But where the French comes in, I don't know. Lynda: Okay. What are these riddles? Bob: Well, let's see: Twenty white--twenty-eight white horses on a red hill. Now they tromp, now they stomp, ~ow they stand still.. What is it? That would be your teeth. Lynda: Oh! Good. Bob: And let's see Lynda: What's another one? Bob: Two lookers, two hookers, four stiff standers, four down-hangers, and a switch about. What is it? 35 Lynda: Cow. Bob: Right. You cheated. LAUGHTER Over on the hill, there's an old white horse. Lift up the tail and slop your bread there. What is it? Lynda: What is ~? Bob: That's a bee hive. Lynda: Really? Bob: Yeah. I guess back then they had somp'm to lift up to get the honey or something. I don't know. I never did understand it myself, but I remembered it. Lynda: What's another one? Bob: Oh boy, iet's see. Well, I think that's just Ohl Just a minute. -Over on the hill there's a green house. Inside of that green house there's a white house. Inside of that white house there's a red house. Inside of the red house there's a lot of little Niggers. What is it? Lynda: Sounds like a watermelo~. Bob: That's what it is. Lynda: Really? Bob: Really. (Laughs) Lynda: Do you remember any more rid4~es? 36 Bob: No, that's about it. Lynda: Well, how about superstitions? Bob: Well, I remember a few of those because my mother spouted off with a few. Lynda: when was your mother born? Bob: When? Lynda: Uh Huh. Bob: She was born about 1921--22. Lynda: Oh. Where was she born? Bob: She was born on a farm in Hubbard Lake, Michigan. That's not too far from Spruce. Lynda: Where did she hear these superstitions? Bob: She heard the superstitions from her parents. Lynda: Where were they from? Bob: They, well,originally, they were from Germany near the Russian border. Lynda: When did they come over to the United States? Bob: Well, they came over during World War I. Oh, by the way, I just there's one kind of a--I guess it's kind of a superstition that my grandmother used to say a lot. She didn't speak any English so well, I'll repeat it in German. That would be: e. ~hpinae urn morgen"vi-eT kommer und sorgen, 37 Schpinae urn abend viel glick zu haben. Lynda: What does that mean? Bob: Well, let's see, ~I 'm not too good at German, really. But I guess it would literally mean something like: If you see a spider in the morning, you'll have lots of worries and cares; if you see a spider in the evening, you'll have a lot--a lot of llfck. Lynda: I see; What are some that-your'mother used to say? Bob: Oh, my Let's see. start right mother? Well, there's seve~al of 'em. Well, let's see. We might as well star-off: Lynda: I don't either. Something came If you work on your wedding day, you will work all your life. and If it rains on your wedding day, you didn't feed the cats and dogs well enough. LAUGHTER Bob: I don't know what that means, to tell the truth. Did she just say these at ~y time? up? Bob: Well, yes, something--if somethi--if an event came up like a wedding or something; she might say something, you know. Maybe--maybe to the bride, or something. Lynda: Do you think tt's a German belief--thing they believe in? Bob: Mainly, I think so. Lynda: Well, what are some more: 38 Bob: Well, she'd &lways be saying, you know, to somebody that's--that's about to be married: That they must wear something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue, and a penny in her shoe. I guess it's suppose--that's suppose to bring a happy marriage--if you do that. Lynda: Remember any more? Bob: I Well, let s see. Oh, yeah! There's always--there's always--there's a couple regarding certain phenomema of the body like say your ear ringing. Lynda: Uh. Hum. Bob: Supposedly, if your --if your left ear rings someone is talking bad about you. And if your right ear rings someone is talking good about you. Lynda: Hmmmm. Bob: And let's see, let's see. If, and if, your left hand itches--let's see--which way is it? Oh, yeah. If the palm of your left hand itches, you'll git money. If the palm of your right hand itches, you'll spend money. Lynda: Oh. Bob: Course I don't know how accurate that is. LAUGHTER And let's see If your nose itches, you'll kiss a fool. Lynda: Hmmmm. Bob: If that's true I kissed a lot of fools. And I can--well, relating to that, I story that my grandfather told. 39 LAUGHTER And . Lynda: So you really don't believe in these things, huh? Bob: No, not really. Lynda: You think your mother does1 Bob: No, I don't think she really believed 'em because she was always--always said it jokingly. But I don't know. Maybe' her parents did. I don't know, and-Oh yeah! If you have the hiccups, a friend is thinking of you. How 'bout that? And that's about all I can think of on parts of the body. Oh. Oh. Yeah. If you sit up all night with the dead, the devil c~n't get their soul. So you always have to sit up all night when somebody dies. Lynda: Did you ever know anybody to do that? Bob: Well, yes, I did, as a matter of fact. Lynda: Who? Bob: It was when, when an aunt died--a great-aunt. My grandmother sat up all night after she died. Lynda: Really? Bob: Yeah, really. can remember a 40 Lynda: What? Bob: In that, that, supposedly, on this occasion, long long about, you know, she died late at night. It was right aroung midnight, and supposedly for the rest of the night the pump in the house worked all night. You know, it was a hand pump and it worked all by itself. Lynda: Really? Bob: That's what it's supposed to be. I really don't know. Lynda: That's what your grandfather said? Bob: That's what my grandfather said. Yeah. But I rather doubt it. Lynda: It's possible. Bcbb: Qh. And, and speaking about my grandf,ather; I remember he was--I remember a story he told once about when he was--about the old country that he, he said his dad or his uncle or someone had told him. It was about when they were gathering hay in the field when they were in Ger you know, just gathering hay and this, this one guy, he picked up--picked up some hay with his pitchfork, and there was a hoop-snake in there. And, and this guy started runnin' and the hoop-snake put his tail in his mouth and chased after him--with his tail in his moouth. And I know a hoopsnake can't do that, but that's what he said. Lynda: Hmmmm. Bob: But I guess, we better get back on the subject. Lynda: That's interesting. Do you know anymore superstitions, though? Bob: Well, let's see--If you're --oh yeah-- If you're on your way to go somewhere, and 41 you find you've forgotten something that you must have on this occasion, and, if you go back to git it, that's a sign of bad luck. Lynda: WhiY is that? Bob: I don't know really. signs. And let's see; oh, a couple about the moon. Lynda: What? Bob: If l1ke--;. It's just one of the yeah! Oh yeah, there's If a dog howls at the moon, there'll be a death in the fami.ly. . I don't know where these superstitions--some of these came from about the moon, but I guess it's because it was so beautiful or sometming--kin~ of awesome. And If there's a ring around the moon, there'll be a storm. The amount--and the amount of stars that's inside this ring means that many days before the storm. Such as if there's a ring around the moon and there's four stars inside the ring c~ose to the moon,'that means that it'll be four days before the storm. And .. If , let's see, oh yeah, if, if you see a light in the cemetery, that supposedly means a death in that area, you know, that area of the country. Lynda: Uh Hmmm. Bob: I don't know where that comes from--maybe from these old wur--werewolf things or something. LAUGHTER Lynda: Well, a cemetery looks kind of foreboding. Bob: That's true, it does look rather scary. Oh. Yeah! I remember another thing about the body. Such--like if the bottom of your feet itch. Lynda: Uh Huh. 42 Bob: It means you'll travel on strange ground. May--I don't know if this means danger or not. It's supposedly strange anyway. Lynda: I see. Bob: Well, let's see;, Lynda: Is that all you can remember? Bob: Yeah, that's about it, other than just the common things like: It's bad l~ck to open an umbrella in the house, and things like that. Bob: Oh. I can actly Well, speaking of superstitions and such, remember a couple of things that aren't exsuperstitions; you might s~y they're pro-proverbs. Lynda: What are these? Bob: Well, I only remember a couple but: A stitch in time saves nine. I guess this would indicate mending a dress or such so it wouldn't unravel much, you know~ a small repair jOb is better than a big repair job or something like tQis. And, if you get married and have twins, come to my house for safety pins. EVidently, this is'~ome sort of proverb for friendship or something. I really don't know what kind of a proverb it is. And well, there's always the good old--I don't know. I!ve never heard it down here or anything, but it's quite common up in the North to have a--to have the proverb: Rainbow in the morning Sailors, take warning. Rainbow at night, Sailors, delight. This is also applied to the sky quite a bit like-like, you know, how it gets red? Lynda: Uh.Huh. Bob: When the sun goes d~wn and the sun comes up-- 4) red in the sky? Before the sun sets, let's say. It a~so applies to that. In other words: Red in the Red in the morning, Sailors take warning; Red at night Sailors delight. Lynda: Uh huh. I see. Bob: I've heard it both ways. My mother always said, rainbow, but I've heaBd other people say about the red. And also, Watch your pennies and dollars will take care of themself. Lynda: Uh Huh. I see. Bob: And that's, that's about all I remember on Proverbs. Lynda: Did you hear these from your mother? Bob: Well, actually, I heard 'em quite a while ago. So I'm not sure whether I heard them from my mother and my dad or my dad. But I'd say I probably heard them from my mother, since my dad didn't talk too much. He really wasn't very talkative. He-_ he sang once in a while, something like that. But as far as talking, very little. My dad, speaking of singing, my dad sang mostly songs of--that were popular when he was a young man, you know. But there was one he used to sing that I guess you would classify as a folksong. Lynda: What was the name of it? Bob: The song It 's--It was called "My G::lOd-Looking Man." I think. Lynda: Where did he learn this ffQllg? Bob: His mother taught it to him. Remember you're asking me to Cau~~ I'm not a singer. 44 Lynda: Where was she from? Bob: She well, she was from Michigan, actually. Her parents came over from Poland--what part of Poland, I don't know. Her name was Jakubiak. That's pretty Polish, I think. Lynda: Yes. Well, how does the song go? Can you sing it? Bob: Un. Uh! Nope. Lynda: Well, will you just tell the words, if you remember, as you remember them? Bob: Well, I can rem~mber a lot of 'em because my dad sang it qUite often. Lynda: Okay. How does it go? Bob: You're remembering me-think back pretty good. Lynda: Okay. Bob: And it's a --it's a song about this girl that got married to this good-looting man. That's why I thin)!: the name of it is-- "My Good-looking Man." Ly.nda: Uh. Huh. Bob: And it goes--understand that it's the worn-woman supposedly singing this. And it goes: When I was scarce sixteen of age, A demand in my pride, I really thought of a wedded life, And just so at the time. I gazed upon a blooming youth. To marry was my plan; And very soon I married, too, My good-looking man. A scarce three weeks had married been When the sun--oh! I mixed it up. Just a minute A scarce three weeks had married been When, on a Sunday afternoon ,L When the sun--the sun went down an~he Out went our honeymoon. Let's see. There's aome more. Lynda: Just try to think of it. Bob: Oh yeah! My husband, by himself walked out. To follow, was my plan. And very soon a lady, I spies With my good-looking man. Let's see. Their kisses they were soft and sweet Tall stories they did tell. Says I, "Young man, when you get home I'll tan your hide right welL" They didn't dis--discover me at once As you should understan~. So home I went just for to wait For my good-looking man. Lynda: Is that the last? ground grew dark, Bob: No there--there's a definite ending. about--something about when he came home. me a minute. Lynda: Okay. Bob: Da dum. Okay. Oh, yeah. That's it. Something Just give Just as the clike--clock was striking ten, My gentleman walked in. I kindly says, "Oh-, William, dear, Where ever have you been?" "To church," says he; "You lie," says I No rue was in my plan. For the way I smashed the rolling pin On my good-looking man. I blackened his eyes and broke ris nose. In ring--ringlets tore his clothes. Next I took the pokersti--stiCk And layed it across his nose. Black as any chimney-sweep Out of doors he ran. I tell you, girls, never another fell In love with my good-looking man. 50 50 corne all you girls, Both low and high degree, If ever you such a husband get, Pitch into him like me. 46 ~ J
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Professor John Burrison founded the Atlanta Folklore Archive Project in 1967 at Georgia State University. He trained undergraduates and graduate students enrolled in his folklore curriculum to conduct oral history interviews. Students interviewed men, women, and children of various demographics in Georgia and across the southeast on crafts, storytelling, music, religion, rural life, and traditions.
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