The John Burrison Georgia Folklore Archive recordings contains unedited versions of all interviews. Some material may contain descriptions of violence, offensive language, or negative stereotypes reflecting the culture or language of a particular period or place. There are instances of racist language and description, particularly in regards to African Americans. These items are presented as part of the historical record. This project is a repository for the stories, accounts, and memories of those who chose to share their experiences for educational purposes. The viewpoints expressed in this project do not necessarily represent the viewpoints of the Atlanta History Center or any of its officers, agents, employees, or volunteers. The Atlanta History Center makes no warranty as to the accuracy or completeness of any information contained in the interviews and expressly disclaims any liability therefore. If you believe you are the copyright holder of any of the content published in this collection and do not want it publicly available, please contact the Kenan Research Center at the Atlanta History Center at 404-814-4040 or reference@atlantahistorycenter.com.
Note: This recording includes discussion of violence and racist language and has feedback noises throughout. The first of a two part interview, this recording contains interviews with residents of Augusta, Georgia. Carl Black starts by recollecting his childhood, which was difficult because his father passed away when he was eleven. He then describes his fathers blacksmith shop, farm responsibilities, and his four mile walk to school. Then Black remembers two of his grandfathers former slaves, whom he grew up with. At 5:15 he tells a story about sticking a pitch fork into a bull, then shares remedies to stop nose bleeds. Next at 8:06, Black explains when to plant crops according to the phases of the moon. Then Black talks about his genealogy, including his grandparents six month journey from Ireland to Savannah. At 14:44, Black tells a story about his grandfather seeing the devil, then a pro-Southern theory about the cause of the Civil War. Next Black retells his fathers story about General Sherman stealing his horse, then talks about his grandmothers family settling on a farm in Thompson, Georgia. At 18:57 he tells two stories about haunted houses, then shares folklore behind money needles. At 27:00 Black claims that witches cast spells on him. Claire Hatfield begins her interview at 33:00 by describing her childhood growing up on a farm in Missouri. Her family moved when her father was elected sheriff. At 36:10 Hatfield explains how her mother planted crops to the sky signs, then she tells two stories about tornadoes in Missouri. Next she discusses house raisings when men in a community came together to build a familys house. At 43:34 Hatfield shares details about the only execution performed in Missouri; she also shares her disapproval of capital punishment. Next at 46:42, she describes the spiritualism movement that occurred during her childhood, in which women talked to the dead. Then she tells a ghost story and one about her aunt, who was a medium. At 52:20 Hatfield shares that her family is a mix of Cherokee Native American, Irish, and French. Then she describes her grandfathers journey to participate in the 1849 California Gold Rush. Next at 54:55, she recalls her father, William J. Gentry, teaching shape note singing to community members and her mother singing ballads. Then she sings several ballads her mother taught her. At 1:05:10 Hatfield describes a popular song about Charles Guiteau, who assassinated President James A. Garfield.
Mable Claire Gentry Hatfield (1888-1972) was born in Ava, Missouri, to William J. Gentry (1864-1951) and Rebecca A. Gentry (1866-1947). In 1908 she married Rolla Virgil Hatfield (1879-1941). Hatfield moved to Pasadena, California, then Augusta, Georgia, to live with her son. John Carl Black (1892-1970) was born on a farm in Warren County, Georgia, to Thomas Black (1853-1903) and Macy Hamilton (1866-1920). He married Nancy Pearl Gregg (1898-1964) and they had three children together. Black moved to Augusta, Georgia, as a young man, where he lived until his death. Mildred Evelyn Goodwin Powell (1900-1985) was born in Augusta, Georgia, to John W. Goodwin (1876-1944) and Cora Goodwin (1878-1957). She married Arthur Pierce Powell (1901-1956), and they had four children together. James Arthur Powell (1924-2004) was born in Augusta, Georgia, to Arthur Pierce Powell (1901-1956) and Mildred Goodwin Powell (1900-1985). He served in the United States Navy for 17 years and was married. MaryAlice Toomey (1947-1995) was born in Augusta, Georgia, to Dorothy Virginia Powell (1924-2004) and Patrick Joseph Toomey Jr. (1918-1986). She married in 1969 and had several children. Toomey graduated from Georgia State University, and later moved to Pennsylvania, where she lived until her death. Additional biographical information has not been determined.
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Dy'\O...)\~ SC~\<:>,,)\ C~f\' \ W".( Corporate names Geographic locations Topics by MaryAlice Toomey fa r Hr. ;J ohn Burrison December 2, 1968 GEO HG IA S'rA'IE COLLEGE FOLKLORE COLLECTING PROJt~CT by MaryAlice Toomey 219 Calvary Drive Augusta, Georgia December 2, 1968 INTRODUCTION: During the past two months I have collected folklore from four informants. All of these people live in the city limits or suburbs of Augusta, Georgia in Richmond County. My til ree elderly informants now live with their chi,ldren in Augusta. 'I'wo of them, hmr8ver, did experience childhood and adolescence in a predominantly folk envil'onment. As my permanent home is in Augusta, I had no particularly exciting experiences on the trip itself; and due to the fact that the informants Hve either in the city limits or in major residentia] areas, I am not inc]uding detailed cJirections to their residences, All of my informants are extremely interesting persons, and I feel that my experiences with each of them \.,ere truly "learntng" expertences,' The informants are Clatre Hatfield, Carl Black, HiIdred Powell, and James Powell. INFORNANT #1: Nrs. Hatfield is an extremely colorful personality for her 80 years. She was born and raised in Missouri and now resides with her son, Nr. Rupert Hatfield, at 15'15 Wi1der Road in Augusta. l1rs. Hatf1elcJ's daughter-in-law ls my great aunt and 1t was t.hrongh her that I became acqua1nted with Mrs. Hatfield several years ago. I (2) went to her mainly for her tales about the "cyclones" that she saw and experienced while she lived in t1issouri. But I came away with a storehouse of folklore. I had to pry a little to get her to sing a few ballads; but as she sang them her face was aglo"l. She was skeptical going into the discussion, but after it she appeared to be gra teful. 'Ihe following is the discussion, in dialogue form, that I had vlith Hrs. Hatfield on November 2, 1968, at 4:00 PM: Maryl\.lice: Hrs. Hatfield, would you telLme your full name, please? Mrs. Hatfield: Mable Claire Gentry Hatfiflld. HaryAlice: And where were you born? Mrs. Hatfield: Ava, IUssouri, Douglas County. MaryAlice: Douglas County? Okay--uh--would you bit about your life as you grew up~ though, please tell me when you were tell me a little First of all, born? Hrs. Ha tfield: July the fourteenth, eighteen and eighty-eight. MaryAlice: Okay, now tell me--uh--what--wha t your house was like that you were born in and a little bit about your life when--as you grew up as a child. Mrs. Ha tfield: My father and mother were young people and I was their first child and I was born in a log cabi.n-not exactly a log cabin--uh--but a small log house-and-- uh-- MaryAlice: \.'ias ita one-room log cabin? Hrs. Hatfield: I think it was one room. I don't remember much a bout it. ~'hey moved out of it and--uh--the one we built later on was one room. For several years we ,just had one room while we children were small. MaryAlice: Okay--do you remember--uh--when you first started going to school? About how long was it that you went to school everyday? Did you go to school a fUll day or what were the hours? Do you remember that? Mrs. Hatfield: I went to school several terms from the ti.me I first started until I--til I finished the eighth grade an' never-went many a term an' never missed a day. HaryA lice: Okay--uh--woula you tell me a little bit about your economic background? Were ya' ll--were you pretty well off financially? Mrs. Hatfiela: No, we--we were real poor when I was small but after we got up any size we had what most farmers an' most country people called a good living. HaryAlice: So you did live on a farm? Mrs. Hatfield: Urn-hum, lived on a farm until my daddy was elected t' office an' then we moved to town. HaryAlice: ~bat office was that? Mrs. Hatfield: He was sheriff a long time. MaryAlice: Okay, and how long did you live in Ava in Douglas County? Mrs. Hatfield: Well, I'd say thi.rty"'four years. 14aryAlice: And when did you ccme to Augusta? Mrs. Hatfield: I been here seventeen years. MaryAli.ce: And why--why did you come to Augusta" Mrs. Hatfield: My son an'his famiJy lives here an' I wanted t' be with my granchi.ldren. MaryAlice: Okay, fine. Now, Mrs. Hatfield, you mentioned--uh-that you lived on a farm. Did you plant, or tHd your mother or parents plant by the signs? Hrs. Ha trield: 'They di.d. HaryAlice: "Tould you tell me a little bit abol1t that--what you can remember? Mrs. Hatfield: 1.'1ell, 1--1 never did know just when to plant garden. I'd'Allays go on back to mother to find out when is--the sign is right so I could plant my beans an' my cucumbers an' everything that I raised in the garaen. I wanted to get it so it would make vegetaSIcs an' not--just t! make all blooms. HaryAlice: Okay. Now, I kno", in Missouri there are--uh--it's noted for having had a lot of tornadoes and storms like that. And I kno]'l there's one particular story that you can tell me about a boy that was in one of these storms ant I think you called them then--uh--cyclones. Could you tell me about this one particular story? Mrs. Hatfleld: vlell, it "1813 way back \"hen my--my father was--before my father an' mother was married-about eight years, I think-they--my daddy said he 'uz standing in the yard one Sunday afternoon an' he~hea:rd"thi;.;-this" awful roaring. An' he looked over to-wa,rds;:the town of Marshfield which is a town a way over in Webster County, north of Douglas County where we lived, and they--he--he seen objects a-whirlin' through the air an' he seen the--the lightning an' the thunder an' the black clouds an' could even hear the roaring. An' I jllst don't know how far that is. It must be about forty miles from Ava to Marshfield. An' it blew that town away. There uz way up to- \"a rds a--a hunderd people killed. I've forgotten just how many. But they'Uz a little, they 'uz a little boy, a baby, who wuz blown up an' caught in a fork of a tree an' they never did know whose child that wuz--they wuz so many people killed-.-they just didn't have no way to trace that little boy down an' he grew to be a man an' they called ,fitnJohrillY!'" Cyclone. That's the only name he ever had. NaryAlice: Do you Imow anything about thi..s man's whereabouts today? Did you ever hear anything allout him a fter he grew up? Mrs. Hatfield: No, No I don't. I didn't pay too much attention to it. I've hea rd tha t told a good many times 0 because-- uh--they 'lZ so many people tha t lived in our town that 'uz--'uz--in Marshfield a lot of the time, too, and it wuz a raLI center then wheT'e they had to go to the raUroad to get whatever they needed that 'uz shipped in. MaryAlice: Fine. Mrs. Hatfield, would you tell about the twister tha t--tha t yOll vi.e\vec! from your own house-- that you saw out--out your window? Mrs. Hatfield: Well, that \vuZ in May I think it wuz. It'd been arai-- an awful lot of rain an' --Uh--WE1 went to a birthday dinner that day an' --for the minis ter--an'-uh-- they sat on the porch an' visited all afternoon-uh-- members of the church did an' everbody commented about how hard the wind 'uz a-blowin'. The leaves were 13.1] turned up bottom side up like they will in a storm like that an' they stayed that way. Vie11 , t~lBt night in early part of the night it commenced t' rain--an'--iJ.h--well a bunch 0' young folks--my son was in the group a' young people that--uh--wuz out--they seen the lightning strike or seen this--this house ca'--this canning factory ca tch fire an' it burned to the ground. An' --uh-- oh there uz so many houses demolished that night. ( '5) NaryAlice: 1--1--1 think there'uz two in the west part 0' town an' then o--skipped over--raised and skipped over in--uh--to several in the north part 0' town an' two peonle'uz killed in the north part 0' town--an' --uh ,,"ent on out to the--the county horne an' my father an' mother were--uh--superintendent an' matron of that then. An' that done a lot of damage there and went on over the hill--just over the hill a little ways an' blew a man--rnan' shouse down--his "life was pregnant an' just--just tore that house all t' pieces an' everyone 0' his family-tha t man's fami ly wuz under that debris Lphone rings, HI'S. Hatfi.eld whispers, "Can I talk away?'.!-; and--an' that woman under there an' her pregnant an' she told her husband to go ahead and get the child ern out'l'!ays, 1\ I'm alright;' says" go ahead an' get them outran' afterwhile she 'uz seen--she 'uz gonna smother anL-uh-- I have no tellin' what kind of a bad time an' she says, (jut.l 'fD(')~~:s_a-YS'.\I can't stand i t.;'an' that. man uz a walkin' ~.....'" around without a stit.ch 0' clothing on--nothin' but just a string around his neck from his underwear an' barefooted an' a-walkin' on them nails. Q'course t.hey 'uz nails al] in that house as it tore up an' my daddy--uh--run over there an'--an' his daddy-inlaw an' they got in there an' pulled them childern outs from under that wrecked house an' one girl had a broken hip. That woman lost her baby. Now that-now I could 'a put that a little better'n that couldn't I? ' No, that's fine, that's fine--uh--now would you tell me about what you mentioned to me a while ago about house raising? 1lfould you telJ me what that involved and--? HI'S. Hatfield: Well, now I don't know where I can make it plain enough or not. I--uh--years ago before there vlUZ any saw mills --there ivasn' t no saw mills in the country when we built our little house--house where I lived so long when I was a child. There wasn't no saw mills. My daddy went to a saw mill miles an' mi.les away an' come back through the awfullest LQl"tJ .._..~Jn storm you ever s~ed to get some lllmber to make t t 0 (,J-ilI.. ourl house. and--uh--thls--uh--my great grandaddy ",,,J vJ'l.:'r;,~.,i.. Martin was-considered quite a well-to-do man. He Ii'" jr">'-'+'/r'I...ttAj'.'J had lots 0' land an' worlds an' worlds 0' stock (}~trl/'f ~'~ vv''''''' an I everything that people that's good farmers has ,Q1~~I'J.'il' . on a farm but it didn't have no buildings because ~.. t('~) there ivasn' t anything--I can remember i"hen they-- , uh--had the sorriest kind 0' nails to bUild with. And--l1h--they'd have what they called house raisings an' invite every man that--uh--that could get to this site:where they were gonna have the house raising--invite as many as they could get there an' (6) then they'd trim the logs and get straight logs an t trim them dO\m an t notch 'em 30 they'd 1'1 t together an' they:'d raise these houses when they could get enough men together to do--do like that. That's the way they had to maRe them buildings an' this great grandfather 0' mine had his buildings made so small they v/ere just po' ole. pansey--wasn' t enough' men to build 'em.-to throw 'em--they called-called it house raising. l1aryAlicfl: Okay, now we'll get on a little different subject and would you tell me about what you had told me previously a bout the execution in Douglas County? l1rs. Hatfield: Oh, I ain't a bit proud 0' that. I been sick all my life about that. That was just wanton, needless murder. I don't believe in--in--uh--ca pital puniShment-- not a'tall I don't. This boy, twenty-two year'old boy--an' his uncle would--uh--which was a quite a bit older man--they killed some ole people for a wagon an' team an' a little bit a' money-two or three hunderd dollars I think they had saved up an' had it in the house of course. An' this boy'd been a-makin' his home with these ole people. He sa id he ha ted to hi t the ole woman. He knocked the boy, the young man, an' the ole man in the head out in the barn an' she come on out see what 'uz the matter with 'em an' he hit her an' said he hated to hit her~-said she'd cooked me so many good meals. Put' em in this house and of course people didn't miss' em for several. days an' they got to smellin' a terrible odor an'--uh-- green flies 'uz allover the windows an' the doors. An' the tovm people gathered in there an' they didn't take 'em l.ong to find out who done i t. ~'he boy went off to Springfiel.d with the wa--sold the wagon an' team an' 1 don't know where he got it--I think maybe he got the vlagon an' team for his part of that terribl.e thing--an' brought 'em back an it wasn't long til they found out that him an' this other man had done tha t. An' they--didn' t take 'em long to bring 'im' the death sentence. An' when--the day they hung him they had to tear him out 0' his mother's arms an' her a-screamin' an' a-cryin'. I just always ha ted that. 1 wish I"'d brought tha t book. down here; my brother's got that book with all them stories in it an' that's a true story of Douglas County. MaryAJice; Okay, and didn't you say that--uh--that this was--has been the onl.y execution in Douglas County? l1rs. Hatfield: That's the only execution that there ever was in Dou~pas County. 1--1 don't think Hissour1 has cani.. taI punishment now. MaryAltce: Didn't you say that-that your parents did go to the hanging? Mrs. Hatfield: Yes, they did--they were young people an' of course young people don't like to miss ,out on an ything. We children \vere small. I think maybe 1--1 don't know-I think maybe I 'uz big enough to take care a' the baby while they went that day--I"m not right sure who stayed with us but they went. They went two days before that hangin' took place. The first day they postponed it. MaryAlice: Do you happen to know why they postponed it? Mrs. Hatfield: No. MaryAlice: Was it that they doubted that he did it or--or was it the--the punishment itself--the death sentence or what? Mrs. Hatfield: I ,iust--I just don't know why they did that. I wuz aw--I wuz an' awful little girl then, an' I've allays been a shamed 0' that--even for Douglas County. MaryAlice: Okay--uh--Lomething happened to the tape at this P2int as I was asking Mrs. Hatfield about "Spiritualism.':/ HI'S. Hatfield: 1"1911, several years ago there wuz s'many people got interested in--uh--Spiritua lism. Uh--ca llin' up the dead--ca1li n' up the dead an' talkin' to the dead an' them that wuz gone from this world already and--uh--my husband 'uz ,i us t a lad of a boy--he 'uz, he 'uz about ten years older than me I guess. I'd 'a been a bout three or four years old then an' he wuz in his early teens an' he went to church there a t night where he went to school in the daytime. An' he, boylike, had tr: go out one night and sit on the stiles. They had a fence around the churchhouse. Now I dunno why they did that but they had these s-stiles--steps on one side to walk up an' then get up there on a platform up there an' then you \'1all{ down the other side an' he Wl1Z sittin' on that an' he looked up an' seen a woman a-comin' down the hill, bright moonlight night, an' he said "Oh," says-uh-- Say. tol1isself, he told me about this. I eo~'t-he-- he JdncJa believed it. He sayil "some 0' Uncle Rube Hartley;" says "that's some 0' Uncle Rube Hartley's folks a-comin' there," says "it's a somethin' shorely has happened." She 'uz a-com in , d own the hill ;just a-floaUn' down the hilL He thought she luz a-running' at first, but she whatn't--she 'uz a-floatin' along. And--uh--she got down to where he wuz sittin' an she just turned 'er head an' looked at'i.m--went right on across the road an' down under ( 8) the--now he belie--he died beJievin' that. I said "1'!elJ--un--!1al, die1 that woman look like me? Did--uh--wuz that me--wuz tha t an apparition ashovlin' you wha t k.ind of a wife you \'lUZ gonna gi t'?" "No'; he said-he thought it wuz one-some 0' Uncle Rube Hartley's girls to begin with an' then he seen it \vasn't, He said she went over the fence an' down under the hill. Now he-..uh--he .just-oh, they just believed that an' his grandmother wuz a quarter-breed Cherokee Indian an' she wuz just as superstitious as she could be, Some of 'em kicked a smooth--uh--uh--sa--uh--flat iron under the bed one day an' stubbed theIr toe on It--just give it a kick an' kicked it under the bed an' it come right back out, I don't know whar' it could 'a bounced out or not. It could have but they thought there 'uz a spirIt under there that throwed that iron back out 0' there. MaryAlice: And who was this that that happened to? Mrs.' Hatfield: 'That 'uz at--that 'uz at my husband's gram1mother-and-- uh--her bachelor son wuz Ilvin' there and--uh-an '--I~h--orphan glrl that' uz s tayln' there. MaryAl1ce: vlhat was your husband's grapdmother's name? HI'S. HatHeld: Turner. MaryAlice: Turner~' Mrs. Hatfield: Urn-hum. 14aryAlice: Olmy, now, what were yc'u tellin' me a few minutes ago about your--I believe you sald your Aunt Nary? And she used to call up the spJ.rJ.ts or ? l11's. lIa tfield : \tiell, she wuz with a group 0' young people tha t did--that 'uz before she married my uncle. He vmz a doctor. And--uh--she--how come tha t she--uh-- how come she believed in that I can't see but she-they all got so interested an' they'd meet places an! call up the dead. And--uh--th~y just-they just-- it bothered her so bad she couldn't sleep at night. ~laryAlice: But--and you say you don't bel.ieve that you can do this at all, right? Mrs. Hatfield: iShakJ.ng her hea.\ll I don't believe in it. I don't-I just don't think--I don't think the Lord aims fer us to call the dead back here an' talk with 'em. MaryAIJ.ce: But they actua lly--she actually believed she could do this? Mrs. Hatfield: They a"[l thought--they all thought they did, of course, an'--but that died down for some cause or another. I guess somebody got their Bible out an' went t'readin' it. MaryAlice: 1/ihat was her name,--Mary? Mrs. Hatfield: Gentry. MaryAlice: Mary Gentry. Okay. HI'S. Ila tfi.eld: Lord' a mercy. He might have--my Uncle Marvin would have a fit if I'd tell that on his mother. MaryAlice: Okay, Mrs. Hatfield, what you just told me about the ghosts and the haints and all, now do you remember, about what time was this? Was this after you were--were born and you heard about it or did it happen while you were old enough to be around and experience it yourself with people? Mrs. Hatfield: v,'e 11 , I wuz quite a small girl--I didn't--we had an' old lady come to our house one night and--uh-we wanted--she uz a "spiritualist" and we wanted her to s how us what ehe could do. vIe 'uz all scared V death but we got around a--we didn't have a ta ble--we got around L.box--we got a box that mother'd had onions inLA.t this point Mrs. Hatfield began to laugh/--that ole little lady got us all sittin' around there an' we 'uz afraid somethin' would come--and the--couldn't--she just couldn't make tha t box budge. It jus t i"ouldn' t move a tall and well she said there wuz just too much onion scent LRere Mrs. Hatfield was laughing hysterica11x7 I didn't believe a word of it. I di.dn' t think we wuz ever gonna see anything but I couldn't help but be a little afraid. I don't want no spirits-- I don't want no even no good spirits. I'd-die if I'd see sornethin'. MaryAlice: Okay, and this--uh--uh--Mr. Rube Hartley and your aunt and a11--did this all happen in Ava? HI'S. Hatfield: No, it 'uz--it 'uz at Arno, a little town west of Ava. MaryAlice: Arna? Mrs. Hatfield: A-R-N-O. MaryA1i.ce: Okay. Mrs. Hatfiel?1 would you tell me a 1i.ttle bit of ,,[hat you can remember about your ancestry on your side and then on your husband's Side? Mrs. Hatfield: Well, my husband's grandmother "mz a quarterbreed Indian, Cherokee Indian. MaryAlice: lhhat was--what was her first name and her last name? (IO) Mrs. Hatfield: Her name wuz--uh--Mary 'Purner and--uh--his granddaddy on--his granddaddy was Irish--full-blooded Irish--Indian an' Irish--wuz a mixture wasn't it and uh--my people--my uncle--my daddy's brother traced the fa mily tree back to France. It--uh--originated in France or come from France and it was spelled J -E-N-T-R-E. 'I'hat wuz the French name for Gentry an' then they moved to England--they went to England from France an' they changed it to G-E-N-T-R-Y. \'Iell, then they came on over here an' settled in Alabama. Oh, thew s a big family 0' Gentry's in Alabama. I dunno how many brothers Granddad had-my father's granddad--and-uh-an' -_then Grand--Grandfather-- before the war broke out between the states, Grandfa ther come on to Missoura and he wa s a young man then; he had never married; an' he went--he an' another broth--brother went to California to the Gold Rush an' the other brother (Hed on~-l dunno whar' he died on the way out or back and t.hey had to make just a makeshift of a box to bury lim in an' course Grandpa wuz just a boy but he t.ook-- he took t.hat t.erribly to heart. My brot.her said he'd heard him tell it an' just. sit an' cry about t.hat boy havin' to be buried that way. An' then he come back an' he married an' raised a big famJ. 1y an' he 'uz considered quite an honorable man. My people were prominent people. HaryAlice: D--Do you remember--uh-the uncle's name that you were talking about that--that traced this genealogy back-this, this family tr, HI'S. Hatfield: Dr. J. L. Gentry. HaryAlice: Dr. J. L. Gentry? Okay, Mrs. Hatfield: My daddy's brother. MaryAlice: Okay. Fine. Thank you. Mrs. Hatfield, would you tell me about your father's teaching shapenote singing? Mrs. Hatfield: 1JlellLMrs. Hatfield cleared her throa..t7 my daddy wuz a--had an' awful good voice. He could sing. He taught--uh--he taught--uh--vocal music an' he taught voice, He taught--trained people to sing. Of course, that'uz uR-that'uz just--uh--went on in that day an' age fer,;.musement. And--uh--he taught us childern to sing. l:}e could read them ole' shape notes just Uke--uh--anybody can play the piano can go there an' sit down to that instrument an' play--play it--find the note an' we cou]d just sing those ole' shape notes out 0' this 1t1OI'ld--everyone of us childern could. (11) MaryAlice: And didn't you say you had a quartet? Mrs. Hatfield: \I/ell, they--they 'uz a quar--they 'uz four of us childern an' we .just sang-- we ;!ust-.-my youngest brother sang tenor an' I sang the alto a~'--an'-uh-- I guess-my other brother must 'a sang the--the lead. An' Sis--I dunno who she joined in with-there 'uz four of us an' we could make good music. HaryAlice: Did it t.1!ke long to learn how toLEroblem vli,th tape recorde.r,t-Ho\o, long did it take to learn shapenote singing? HI'S. Hatfield: Not too long. Dad taught a couple 0' terms. Dad-Dad caught a I --taught a couple 0' terms and of course all the people in the country came an' studied. Oh, we had a fine singin' class. MaryAltce: \,ihat was your father's name? Mrs. TIa tfield: VfiJliam J. Gentry'. MaryAlice: And was this in Missouri? HI'S. Hatfield: iNo:l7 Ha ryA lice: 1:)ha t town? Mrs. Hatfield: Ava. MaryAlice: This was in Ava? Mrs. Hatfield: ..Jio:l7 HaryAlice: Okay. NoW, Mrs. Hatfield you know the words--you said you could remember the words to one of the--the hymnalS that-that you used to shapenote sing an'--uh-- would you tell me the name of the book that it was in an' and would you tell me the words and the name of the song, please. Mrs. Hatfield: In the ole' Christian Harmony, and the song viaS "The Dying Boy." MaryAlice: Okay, now, ,just tell me the words. Mrs. Hatfield: I'm dying mother, dying now. Please mise my aching head;. And fan my hea ted, burning brow. Your boy will soon be dead. A band of angels beckon me; I can no longer stay. Ha rk, how they sing, II we welcome thee. II IDear Brother, haste away.' . I'm not such a good elocutionist. ( 12) Ma ryA licl'!: Do you remember--uh--anyth.1ng a bout the' song--LA~nother problem \vi th ta De recorde.r:/ Do you remember anything about the song other than it was in this--this hymnal? Mrs. Hatfield: No, I don't reml'!mber the--there's more to it than that bnt I can't recall it. MaryAlice: Bnt yon don't remember for sure where it came from or . Mrs. Hatfield: No, I dunno who wrote the song. MaryAlice: Okay. lOurIng this Ume I was coaxing Mrs. Hatfield to try to sing the song to which she has just recited the wordt Now, Mrs. Hatfield, you've fina] ly--finall"Y consented to--to t.r:y to sing the song for me and I Ltrouble with recorde.r:/--I realize that you think you're going to have a bit of trouble singing it but you just--just do your best for me. It'll be just fine. HI's. Hatfield: I know every note and I Imow when anybody mal, es a sour note. I kno'lol when even In--on--instrumental music--1 Imo\, when it's played rlght but I lost my voice when I 'uz eighteen years old an' I can I t do anything but growl. I'm dylng mother, aylng now. Please raise my achlng headi And fan my heated, burning brow. Your boy will soon be dead. A band of angels beckon me; I can no longer stay. Hark, hovi they sing, "we welcome thee." Dear Brother, haste away. NOvl they's about six more--uh--four more verses to that anyhow but I can't remembcr 'cm. Someone in the room: Vic 11, that's good. MaryAlice: That's flne. Thank you so much. ffit this point I began to ask NI's. Hatfieid about some of the balladd listed on the sheet given to us. Mrs. Hatfield did remember a few of them/ Okay. Now sing--sing what you can remember of' "The Blind Child." . HI'S. Hatfield: Well, I can't do anything but ,just growl at 'chi. (13) They say Dear Father that tonight You wed another bride. That you will clasp hel' in your arms Where my Dear Hother died. 1'hey say her name is Mary, too, The name my mother bore. Oh, Father, is she kind an' true Like her you loved before. And is her step so soft an' low, Her tolce so sweet an' mild, And, Father, will she love me, too, Your blind an' helpless child. That's all I know of it. l1aryA lice: Okay. Do you--where did you--where do you remember h~aring this song~ HI's. Hatfield: Hy mother sang it when I 'uz a 11ttle girl. HaryAlice: And do you know where--she just--she just had le,a.rned for , HI'S. Hatfield: Well, I dunno, she might 'a had--they had what:th,y called ba.llads then and they were just "'1'1tten do\\rn by somebody in longhand. Ma.ryAlice: Okay. \!iould you sing a little bit of "The Dying Soldier'!' for me~ ~lrs. Hatfield: vlant me to sing again? vlell, I can't remembE'.r tha.t. ~l, Wait just a minute. N Two soldiers lying as they fell Upon the reddened clay. In'Gwtime folds that night in peace, Breathe there their lives awa.y. Brave hearts that stirred each manly breast. FatE'. only made them foes. An' lying, dying side by side, ~ softenE'.d feeling rose. Among New Hampshire's snowy hills There prays for me tonight A 'lioman and a ] i ttle girl 1ilith hair like golden light. And as the thought broke forth at last, A cry of anguish wild That could no longer be repressed, "0 God, my Wife, my child." Then spoke the other dying man ~cross the Georgie plains, "ThE'.re waits an' .watch fer me loved ones I'll never see again." A little girl with golden hair, An' she with dark eyes bright On Hampshire hills or Georgie plains Vlere fatherless that night. NaryAlice: Olmy, and te11 me what vial' this was and what yon remember abont it. Nrs. Hatfield: v'ell, I, of course, I don't remember anything about the 1JIar-Between-the-Sta tes--1 j nst happened to know the song from hearin' older people sing it. It was two soldiers, though, from the North an' the South that haspened to both be deathly wounded an' died there together. MaryAlice: And you remember this as a child~ You were sung thi.s as a child'? Mrs. Hatfield: Yes, I~ve heard my mother sing it a many a time. MaryAlice: Okay, Now Nrs. Hatfield, there's several of the,;e ba Hads tha t yon said you d idn 't really remember the words or the tunes but--uh--that you had heard of ~hem and you knew a little bit ab0.llt them. Tell me .Ltrouble wi th th,~ tape recorcler again_j Mrs. Hatfield: It'll q~it. NaryAlice: D1dn't you say you remembered playing"Little Rosewood Casket" and It Put Ny Little Shoes Away"on the 6rgam WOUld you tell me a little bH about that? HI'S. Hatfield: evell we--my sister an' I--,iust played fer our own personal satisfaction. As y"u can see from what you've already heard of me that I can't slng. I used to be able to sing but I can't anymore. But so many 0' them ole I tunes fall in place whIm I get to hummln' on 'em. An' "Little Rosewood Casket,"-I've got that ballad an' H.'s a great long ballad. I'te got it here somewhere if I haven't glven it to somebody. Ha ryA lice: But yon don' t-.,you don't: knm'l where It is? HI's. Ha tfie1d: I don't know where it is. I'll look fer it an' if I can ~ver f1nd it I'll tell you about it. JvIaryAli ce: Okay--uh--wha t do you remember a bou t Cha rles Gll1 tean. Nrs. Hatfield: Charles Guiteau wuz a young man that--uh--took it in his head to kill President Garfijld. He shot 'im an' he liv",d from--oh, he lived several days after he wuz --uh--aft~,r he wuz wounded. An' now they made a song about this--uh--this Charles Guiteau an' it was qu i te a popula r song fer a good many years but I can't recal] a word of it: (151 Xy namp j,s Charl~s Guit~au; My name I'],J, n~ver 6~ny; r~r the mut'Der of ,Jamfl's A. rfi~lc I am ccnd~mned tc dl~. trs aJJ T can r~call of It, lice: about Floyd Collins, who was he~ t:field: Gyd Collins vJUZ a ,VC\LHlf: nan ttat li/ante':d to e>: lore every cave, every hole in the ground could nd, an' tJf: fc,und this cave an' crawled c1o\.;n th~re an' a rock fell an' caught his foot an' he oouldn't-never know-- they couldn't get 'im-- t lim out anI n~v~r--h~ s th~re s~v~raJ ys anI 1'ihally (Eed. ryAJice: y, fin~. ~h8nk you v~ry much) Ml'S. flatfi~],d. !-iPS, HhrIFIELL: ( 15) My name is Charles GUiteaui My name I'll never denYi Fer the murder of James A. Garfield I am condemned to die. That's all I can recall of it. !laryAlice: Ho'd a.bout Floyd Collins, who was he? Mrs. Hatfield: Floyd Collins wuz a young man that wanted to explore every cave, every hole in the ground he could find, an' he found this cave an' crawled down there an' a rock fell an' caugnt his foot an' he couldn' t- never know-- they cOUldn't get 'im--get 'im out 'an' never--he staycd in there several days an' finally died. Ma ryAlice: Okay, fine. Thank you very much, Mrs. Hatfield. MRS. HATFIELD: ( 16) INFORM/\ WI:' 1/2: Mr. Black is also a very interesting person. He lacks the color and zest that Mrs. Hatfield possesses, but his background, which shall be discussed in the dialogue, explains this. HI'. Bb ck. is very prond of his forefathers, but he rE'counted his knolVledge of them to me with overwhelming sadness and tears. It seems that he is the only one of his generation still living, and despite the fact that several of his children live within a radius of fifteen miles or so, he apPears to be a very lonely man. He lost his wife about four or five years ago; she was very, very dear to him. ~1r. Black points to his conversion to Christianity as a major turning point in his life. He is a very devout Christian now and so was his wife when she was alUve. She believed so profoundly in the direct healing of God that when she began to get sick she refused to go to a doctor. She belived that whatever happened to her ~lOuld be the will of God. Mr. Black supported her in her belief. Mrs. Black fina lly took an extreme turn for the ~lorSe and her son, John T. Black, ~Jho is my nncle by marriage, forced her to go to the hospita 1. It wa s discovered that she had cancer in its most advanced stages and she lived less than a weelj: after that. 14r. Bb cIt ,-;as torn apart but he concluded that this was the will of God. One of 141'. Black's children is a heavy drinlter; one was murdered by his lthe son' s_7wife; and one was killed in an automobile acciden t just two weeks ago on November 18, 1968. Mr. Black now lives with a daughter, Mrs. Dorothy O'Shields, and her husband Willi8JJl, at 2433 Demetree Way in the suburbs of Augusta. Ihe following is a transcript of a discussion that I had with Mr. Black at my home on October 26, 1968, at approximately 2:00 PM. (17) During the recording session Mr. Black spoke in a low and quivering voice. He talked quHe a lot with his hands, and as I mentioned before, at several instances tears came to his eyes. Be knows that my sister and I sing together, and after our discussion he asked us to sing his favorite song, uHow Great Thou Art. " MaryAlice: Mr. Black, would you state your full name for me please? Nr. Bla ck: .John Carl BlaCk. !1aryAlice: Okay, and would you tell me Where you vJere born? Mr. ,Black: In Warren County--Panhandler, Warren County. Ivla ryA lice: In Georgia? Mr. Black: In Georgia. MaryAlice: Okay.,.-uh--would you tell me a little bit about your early life--first ofcAll please tell me when you were born and tell me what type of house you were born in and a little bit about your early life. Mr. Black: Yea, I was born eighteen ninety-two (1892), April the thritYith, and--uh--we was raised in a log house and we had to take mud and dobb the outside you know to keep the ,dnd out and was sealed with plain plank on the inside, see. And--uh--\ve--vie had plenty to eat but you know just--uh--ordinary country living, see and we raised the most of it at home, see. And--uh-so we had plenty milk and butter and cows and hogs and meat and all at home, see, and--uh my dad died vlhen I was eleven years old so we had it pl~nky tough,from then on, see. PUyt~ MaryAlice: What kind of' work did your dad do? v!hat--how--what did he do to support you? Hr. Black: Uh--well, we farmed and--uh--he--he looked after the blacksmith shop. He run a blacksm:Lth shop and--uh--uh taken those people's stock in and doctored 'em and put-kept shoes on their feet and everything like that and us chillun'run the farm see. Ano--uh--he made all the money. He bought slUff from the outside like that, see. And--uh--he used to'draw sh:Lngles, too, on the side. He'd make shingles to go on top of peoples' houses and carem ' to town and sell 'em on and he'd get little extra things that 1,1" had to have, see. (13) l1aryAlice: Vhat about school? V'ould you tell me a litt.le bit aboll; how you went to school and when" Hr. Blac],: School? j.Te had to walk four miles to school an' we had to leave home 'bollt daylight and it was nearly dark when:! we got home, see--an'--uh--so whatn't very much we could do exceptin' feed the stocle an' stuff like that at night, see, And--uh~~so we on]:1T had about two months before Christmas an' two months afterwards to go to school and that's all the schooli.n' we got during the y~,ar, see- Q ~laryA1ic",: How many rooms were in your--in your house? Was it one room or sev",ral or,., Mr, Black: Naw, they was about five rooms in the house, ' 'bout five--they was a large family of us and we had about five rooms in the house, s , And my--my father had these slavery people that was with his father,see-and when my father got married Why those slavery people followed him, seel MaryA1ice: So he did have slavery people with him? 1\11'. Black: Oh, yes--I--I--remember t.hose slav""ry people--the ole' man and ole' lady--I remember those well and know th""ir names and everythi.ng, see--an' t.he old--old lady Vi"" ca:ll.led her Auntt Mary and Uncle Hez Vias their names, see--an' they wuz ,just like a mother to us. MaryAlice: What. was your fath""r's name? HI'. Black: Tom, HaryAlice: Tom, okay--Uh--did you live your early life in 1,c1arren COl1nty or \'Ih""re--wh""re were you actL1a11y raised:; Mr. Black: vIe11, uh--after my father died we w""nt to--moved to Thompson to my mother's place, se",,--an' ,just four miles out of Thompson and--uh--so vie stayed there three years and my sister, the only one was l",,1't. at home, she run a"ray and married!. see anr. she married a man dovll1 in-- in--uh Jefferson CoLmty and so aft.er the three years we moved down there in Jefferson County, see--so there's where VII' stayed until I become tVlenty years 010, see, When I become twenty years old I left. home, J.1aryA1ice: And vlOu[td you tell me why you left there to come to Augusta? Mr. Black: Yeah, I l""ft ~here to come to Augusta to a fair an'--uh-wasn t intentJ.oneo to stay but I come to the fair and I never did go back, see, MaryAlice: You stay""d right here i,n Augusta? Mr. Black: Right here in Augusta. HaryAlice: Mr. Black: HaryAlice: fill'. Black: ( 19) "'hat was your address in Augllsta when you moved here? Where dL(l yOIl live in Augustq:'? On Saint Luke Street; I don't know the number. And where do yOIl live now in Augusta? I don't live in Augusta; I live in Pine Height off of Fifty-s ix Highway. HaryAUce: Mr. Black: Okay, but it's right outside of Augusta? Twenty-hlO--twenty--no - hlenty-four thirty-three Demetree \,,ray. filaryA lice: DemetreI' ltJay--okay--and--uh--you told me one tlme a bout running after anlmal..,-an animal wl th a pitchfork. 1IJould you tell me something a bout that'? Mr. Black: Yeah, that was when we wuz beatin' out the peas, see, and the cows come up to eat the hulls and all and--llh this old big cow come up there and tried to hook us ;ta' know, see, with horns and I jogged a pitchfork in 'im and it stuck so deep; I did'know I jogged lt that deep; it stllck so deep in his side until he started to runnin t and I I uz hold in , to theoitchfork and so he jerked it out of my hands an' I dem't know where he lost the pitchfork at, see, but he never did come back no more. MaryAlice: And tell me a coupl e of remedies that you have told me about stopping the blood; one time you told me about when you cut yourself and what your mother did to stop the bleeding in your leg. Mr. Black: Well, uh--tha t--uh-,-I bdieve I told you tha t ",h 111' ago about when I cut it with a axe, see, and stopped the blood but see everybody did that because everybody in the whole countr'yknew that, see, and knew that was the qUickest "Jay to stop the blood, s~e and--uh--so we always_ used that method of taller Ltallow - greasy animal fat_land spider web--they called it cob web, see. MaryA Hce: And she stuffed your leg with this and it healed'? How long did i.t take it to heal? Mr. Black: Well, it don't take it very long because the taller is medicated itself, see,and somethin' in the taller that makes it heal, see. And i.t leaves a dark spot wherever you out it,see. It leaves a dark spot, see ... We had it good in some ways and Some ways we had it bad, see. Uh--we didn't have the--uh--fear of things to contend wi th then tha t viii" have now, see, beca use--uh-,-everybody wuz nice to everybody and nobody wouldn~ do his fellow man no wrong nor nothin' like that, see, thl'n, see. T~ley' d help each other inst",Slc1 of going agains t 'im. But tlmes has changed since then" see. (20) MaryAlice: Y)hat was that you told me about stopping a nosebleed'? Y!hat did you tell me that you Md for that'? Mr, Black: Well, you iJut the key--uh--cold keys down ya' back 0' ya' neck a I' a cold rag and cause the blood to turn and go back the other way, see, Maryl\lice: Okay, Mr, Black, you said your family used to plant by the signs. Ylould you tell me a little bit about that because I don't know really anything about that'? Hr. Black: Ye.ah, vie planted by the signs of the moon and by the Greer's Almanac, see, and signs in the knees and--uh-that's what we planted by and if it was goin' be a dry year we planted deep in the ground and if it vlaS gain' be a wet ye.ar \ve--we plant shallow, see, MaryAli.ce: 11!hat was the sign of the moon that told you whether or not it was going to be dry or wet? How was the moon'? Mr. Black: I'Jell, the moon hanging on it's point--uh--denoted wet weather, see! but when it was laying on it's back llk, see, it denoted dry weather, see, and that's the way w could tell and if they had a circle around the moon and--uh you count the stars that was inside of that circle and then you could tell hO'w many days it'd be before it would ra in and it vlOuld really do that, see. HaryAlice: Nr, Black, would you tell me nOVi--uh--some of Viha t you remember about your ancestry or what you remember being told about your--your older people, your mother's people and your fa ther' s people and where they came from and hoVi they came. Mr, Black: Yeah, my grandfather on my father's sic1e--uh--they come from Ireland, see, an'--uh--he Vias Irish and his wife was Scot--Vias--uh--Lutch, An' --uhb-so they eome aeross on a sailboatan' it taken 'em six months to come cross an'--uh--when--uh--they com", cross down here below Savannah and they come up to Gibson, Georgia an' settled there. At tha t time--uh--thi.s country was owned by--uh just,You might say the government, see, an'--uh--everybody that come over here from over there would just go to a certain place that they liked an' just drive up stakes of hoVi much they wanted see and they'd stalH~ it off at the corner~ see, an'--uh--they'd settle there-the whole family'd settle there, Well, then if you had some more brothers--if they didn't want to live close to him, they \vent close to another little town--place jla' knmr--where they could make a town out of it. 'Ere\Sa general rule that somewhere close to there they would set up a little town, see. Maybe two or three sto reS and-uh-- I remember at my Granddaddy Black's, he was four miles from Gibson, Georgia. It was just two ]j.ttle stores at that time and it growed to be a pretty good size tovm, see,--uh--and that's where he done all his trad1n' an' ev<'Orythi.ng at that time, see, an' so he was-- (21) he \vas lIke most--nh--oth<"r xonng folks when him and his grandmother first rnarrl<"d. Ll am prl'tty sur", that Hr. Black Is referrlng to his grandt1ther's wife when he uses the t",rm "his grandmother.:; He loved danclng an' she didn't care too mnch abou,t dancing but h", did and th",y had no buggi",s nor nothin' like that to ride In. They had saddles, horseback see, and he'd get on a horse and go for ten an' fjfteen miles to a dance and he dranked a little bit he said an' so he stopped that night before he got to where he Was supposed to go because there wa s a honse lit up and they wuz callin' thE>. sets of dancing an' the music and everything an ' he just hitched his horse to a 11mb an'went on in there to--gonna stop there instead a' goln' on to where he was gain' an' when h", wa lked up on th", doors teps all th llghts wnt out and all the music stopped. He stood there for a second and nobody mad no fuss nor nothin', H", turned around an' went back to hiS horse. And when he went back to his horse the music come back on again, see, an' so he turned around an' went back to the house an' caught hold't the door then to go inside an' all the music stopped,see,an' he got skiddish then about it an' he ,,("nt back to his horse an' untied the horse an' when--as he untled th", hors"',the horse snort",d two or thre", tlm",s an' he jumped on the hoI'S'" an' tore ont back towards home an' --uh--so when he come to this little creek--H was just one mile" from home an'--uh-the hoI'S e snorted an' he s topp",d anI lool{ed up an' this d!'lvil was on the side this tr",e "lith a fat light a' smoke COOlin" out of hls !'lyes an' nose. I've heard hlm telL it many times, see, com in , out 0' his eyes an' nose an' h'" sald that--uh--to go by it he'd have to take a chance an' h", thought on", time to go back around slx miles further out the way to keep from gain' by the d"'V'lI , s"'''', an 'he "~ a"dl, tiN. aw, J_"l~l'.]u'.~"t. kJ'.Ck th hor,,d(!; in the side an' run by him,"se",; so h", klck",d his horse :Ln the slde with the spurs an' rnn by' it an' when he got even with it, lt jumped en the horse behlnd him an' held't to him. He--he said he was scared to cl@ath .iust about an' the horse was, too; an' (l:randmoth",r heard th", horse com in , an' she Imew there was somethin' wrong an' sh", run opened the locked gate an' as this horse started in th", lock",d gate it thowed him off. If lt hadn't the piece acrosi the top 0' th!'l gate would 'a hit him about his head an' nose, see. And so th", hoI'S'" run on in th", stable am I hO\'I the horse run ln the stable an' stopp",d as quick as it did th",y don't know, bllt they n",ver did Imow what become of the devil, see; but hc" WB.S on the back a' that horse, on the backend. And so--uhafter that he W"11t tJ--to town and bought him a Bible the next day an' the fIrst page he opened had that devil on the side of a tree just like he saw the night b",for~, see. And from that day on he never touched a drop a' whiskey of no kind--not even wine nor nothin', see. (22) An'--uh--so--then the war come on. Uh--Daddy--my daddy viaS seventeen years old when the war COIN~ on, see, and--uh--that was between the states--btween thl~ North and the South and that was to fre th--llh-- Nigg<'lrs. Ya' see, uh--the North bought these Niggers from Afica for a hundred dollars a pair--a man and a woman for a hunderd dollars a pair, an' they give 'em a hunderd doll;~rs for 'em an' they couldn't work 'em thd'th~ wintertime cause the Niggers couldn't stand thR cold weather an' they turn around an' sale 'Rm to the South for t,olO hunderd dollars and then after they sold 'em to the South an' the South made such a good progress with the Niggers--ya' see, because they built a house right in the yard for those colored people an'-uh-- uh--moved 'em right in the yard with 'em--an" they' 'et out 0' the smokehouse jus t like we did, ya I see an' we treat'd 'em better'd 'nthey did in the North ya' SM, an' they'd do anything in the world fer us that we'd ask 'em to do, see. An'--uh--so the North didn't like it an'--uh--they started a racket to free the Niggers r ya' lena"', turn' em alose., see. An'-uh-- so--uh--that s what the war "'uz about oetween the North an' the South. An'--uh--so from then on the Southern people didn't have too much use 1'0' the Northern people a' tall, see, on account of the way they done. An' ole' Sherman come thu--him and his men come thu, and he took my daddy's young horse that he was plowin' right in the time that he needed it bad, see, an' they took hish::ir,se an' give him an ole' horse that they had run to death, just about it, see, and they had to bury they meat in the ground before they got there to keep 'em from takin' all of it, see. An' they come in. an' they couldn't find none 0' tlley meat an' they got mad an' broke up the dishes. An'--uh--they had a awful time, see. An1-uh--so that's all I knew about the older people back on--on that side, see. MaryA lice: Okay, well befor"" you get off of tha t would you tell me about--uh--your grandmother as they came over~ You didn't tell me about that When you told me about the trip over. 1'11'. Black: '['hat's on my mother's side. MaryAlice: Oh, this is the other side'? Okay, all right, now you can go on wUh it if you'd like. Mr. BlAck: Uh--on my mother's side--her people come from Scotland an'--uh--they wuz Casons an' Hamiltons see. An'--uh-my mother's grandmother died at sea ani it taken them six months to cross an' I dop' t know where they landed a t but they s topped at Thompson, Georgia up th en~, an' --. uh--so--sh~ died at sea an' they had to sew 'er up in a blanket an' thaw 'er ov~rboard to keep the big fish ? from turnin' the boat over, s~e. An' two days later (23) th'!y land'!d. They didn't know they wuz that n""ar to land, see. But it happen'd that way, see. I've' h'!ard my mother s Deak of ita lot, see, my grandmother j too, see. An'--llh--they \v<He--they'd lived on a farm thelYself. In fact everbody did them days, sele, cause nobody whadn't. "l!"'althy 'a;' tall,see. T'helY ,just had to battlit out for thc'y O\'111s"'lf, se. An' eours they o"m",d thelY own land an'--un--they own stock an' everthing an' mos t everbody had stock an' ya I know--hogs an I CO"IS an' chick'!ns an' stuff lilie that an' they lived a t. home. Th".y didn't liy" out of a paper sack lll,,~ we do now, SM LChuckl",,_/. So that's about all I know on that sIde. NaryIlliceq Now, you told me about the story about your grandfath<'!r-uh-- Iet's go on--you had an aunt I believe htH<'! in Augusta who lived on Hick Street an' nO"1 they seem to think that house 1s haunt!!!d. !!iI'. Black: Oh, that was my s1st'!'I'-i.n-lB\>l's mother--no, not my sister- in-la\<l; it. whatn't her mother; it "laS my sisterin- law's husband's moth!!!r. lIiaryAlice: Do you happen to kno\>! her name? Do you remember heT' name? Hr. Black: Uh--VUIiams--the only thing I k.no\>! i.s \!/Lll1ams--I'1rs. Villiams. }t,aryAl:i.c!l': 1.'IUI you tel] me exactly what happened in the house to makei them t.h1nk it \>!as haunt<'ld? Hr. B]ack: 1"eill , uh--they had a upstairs to thts house, Sei, an'-uh-- she l:lved there for years an' y!!!ars--uh-they knew sh1' had a Ii t.tle money but they didn 't knovl wha t be com!!! of it, see, an'-un-they think that she hid that money in th!!! staircase, see_-&n'-because my brother-1n-law, her son, had se'm hl'r a coupl eo' times com in , dovm th!!! st!!!PS after she had passed away,s... An'--uh--a lot 0' times t.hey could hear a noise up an' dO\<ln tha t stairCaBei, see, a;n:,--uh--they nev!!!r did know,,-nonei of' 'eim ever did kno~i;,what. caused it, S"'''I,). But they still think that they was money burled i.n--hid in that sta1rcas!!!. So, those things 'ud happen like that back them days, se!!!. An' we lived in a place ourself t.hat a dark, drizzly night you could hear a noise like somebody cryin' an' you could--you could look out an'--uh--llP the road an'--an' s!!!e a light.--little bit 0' light--just looked like it 'uz bout th!!! size o' yo' thumb--it'd be just wavin' backards and forards l1ke that, see, an' it 'uz UP there close to an' ole' stump where a tree had boen cut down, But we wuz told 'forO!! \>Ie went th!!!n, that a child was k1l1ed last \>I!!!!!!k an' it eVidently wuz a tok!!!n of this cb:Ud wh!!!r!!! it was murdered or some thin " Se. MaryAlic!!!: Dld you ever go out to th", light'? ~4r, Blacle: Oh, yeah. I went to the light many times, SM, to see, but just didn't see nobody. 14aryAlice: And did the light just disappear as you vlent up to i.t? Hr. 13lfl ck: The light 'ud disanpear when you'd get close to it; it'd disappear, see. An' we went up there lot 0' times to it, see. HaryAlic@: Vihere vIlIS this, DOl>!? Was this in--llh--Jefferson County'! Nr. Black: That 1>!I1Z in--1n Jefferson County. NaryAlice: About how old w@re yOI1 then vlhen ym used to go follow the light'; Nr. Bl~ck: Oh, I wuz--must 'a been about sixteen, seventeen years old. Ma rylUice: Olmy, and do you know Why the--the child Has ldlled-vJhat-- for Hhat reason. Mr. Black: Never did fInd out--never d J.d fInd out who killed it.. HaryAlicl: Okay, me,I think, a little bit about an instrument i a money needle that people used to--some people used to get hold of back then. 1;iould you tell me vlhat you can about that'! Mr. Black: They used to get ahold of-~of a needle--they call it a money needle an'--uh--they'd mostly go out just for fun, see! just to SM what they ~()\~1<1 fi.nd, see, atl'-uh-- they d start diggil'1'. I 'uz with a bunch o' felloc>!s one night an' diggin' some an' they said they 'uz money there an' they 'uz diggin' an' it sound just like trace chains a comin' --somebody with trace eha ins eomin' daVin thu the wood s but Wi! never d10 see 'em. An' --uh--, we left it. Anothi!r timi! I'uz with 'em an' it sound 1:LJ<:e cats fightIn' an' they "IUZ no cats no where around I see, cause ther", whatn't no houses nowhere around close, see, an' just different things like that. An' another time we' uz at another place an' --uh--w'l--'UZ d iggin' and it caved in with quick sand an' we had to run leave that, too. HaryAlice: V'ell, did--uh-- have you ever knovrtl of anybody f:Lnding money with a needle like that? Mr. Black: WeD, I've heard of it, yeah, lmt I wasn't \>lith 'em when they found 1t. An' --uh-I lmow a fell!!!r r tght ehere in town that bought him a place an' got 13.,tra11e1' court no,,1 wh(~re he found some money that \'Jay, but I dreamed vlhere that money '1m2, myself, see an' I vlUZ t.llin' another feller about it that had a money needle and we wer<" goin' after it an' he jumped 1n h1s car an' run out there an' got it, see, 'fore we got. th,re, l-iaryi\:Li.ce: You dr<'!amec1 this'? How do you-how do you'ihink--you think you can--things can be revealed to you in dreams like that? Hr. Black: I don't know--I don't know why I dreamed it, but--uh-I dreamed right where it wuz at and--uh--how it wuz-what it wuz in an' everything, see. An'--uh--I even saw in my dream--I even saw the pot legs three pot Iegs, that Wl1Z settln' l1nder the roof o,that. tree and wha t pos 1tion it. WUZ settin' 1n--50 we went Ol1t there that night, but this fella went ah<'!ad of l1S be:cause he used to live out there. too, see. An' he went ahead of us an' got it, see. He knew where the tree "ruz an' I did, too, and he went ahead of us an' got it an' when we started across the creek our light shined on the tree and he got the money and run, see. There was his foottracks, see, where he dug it out and thl'!re I-Ja8 thl'! place whN'e the not wa 8 lifted out from undernE'a th the. t clayroot, see t l1aryA lice: Where was this? Was this in J I!lfferson County? MI'. Black: Jefferson County, yeah. 1'1aryA ltce: Uh--do you rt'lm",mber how long people had b,.,en--this instrument had b,.,t'ln in existence bofore--before you 1mo\'1' about itc.--how old the actual instrument was? Mr. Black: 1--1 don't know. I don't know how old it wuz, MaryAlice: 1.\hat was it made out of? Mr. Black: Fell, there "JUZ two or three differnt kinds--some of 'em vlUZ made out 0' raWhide, lil<e a forke;d stick or somelhin', an' back when I wuz a kid me an' my uncle used to dig weDs ya' know to get water out of an' 1 See him cut a 'simmon tree down--a stick, just a small stick, with--uh--two fork~d sUcks on 1. t an' he'd takecut around the stick an' scrape 1t vlith his Imife an' then paIl the--Iet the bark be lose on it. An' he'd take a poi.nt that'd be on that stick an' he'd walk around on the ground an' 1'1n6 a stream 0' water with it. 1'h.. same way by those needl<,:s. If there 'uz anything in the ground like--uh--silver or cop--uh--silver or are in the ground like gold or silver, it would pUll to i.t but it wouldn't pull to nothin' else l see. It wouIdn' t pulI to no paper money nor nothin'. NaryAlice: Did-d1dn,'t you.tell'me one tim(~ about if a man wh:ile he had said--what happened to him if he -- if he said a curse word--that something would happen to him. What did you tell me abollt that? Mr. Black: Well, I said that if whlle you wuz diggin' it if anybody said a bad word, a curse word or anything, it would drop ,just twiced as far down as It \vUZ wh,m you started diggln'. Ma ryAl10c : 'rhe money would? HaryAllcc: Do you think t111s ~,-this rea lly l1a ppened? 1',11'. Black: Oh, it happened to me and som@ rna' boys--ha ppened to me an' sc:me mo' fellas. }'1aryAUce: Now, Hr. BlacY" I'd like to ask you something aboui-1-- 1 remember you had told me--I think--that you yourself did not belIeve in witches, but--but I think you can tell me--uh--a little bit--there was once a superstitIon that you had told me one time about--about a ~Jj. tch--a bout a brooms tick or something. Hr. Black: Yeah, uh-,-that's morE' or less-uh--witchcraft is just-uh-- what a oerson stUdies, see, and yOU'd have to give yourself over to the devil to be a wItch, see, or to even put a spell on anybody. You have to do that, see. An'~-uh--so-uh--otherwiseyou or I couldn't go out there and do that unless we give ourself over to the deVil, see. As long as we stay in the realm of God's doin', see, uh--the Bible or anything. Long as w''! stay in the realm of that, tbe dev--the devil and hls--uh--witchcraft cannot hurt us at. all--can' t hurt none of us. Because I've had--before I beco~. a Christian I did have a spell put on me one time by one of 'em an'--uh-"'l '.vent to somebody /"lse an' had it took off, s@e, L I tried to get Hr. Bloc)\: to 11 me the xact na ture of the spell, but he ki.nd of grinned and said he couldn't possibly do that. I got the impresslon that it had something to do with my being a IadLI HaryAlice: \I'hat--what do they call this person'? Do thE'lY havE'l a name for these people that can take the spells off? Mr, Black: I never did knol-J. But I just went to th,"O person an' he took it off, see, an'--uh--so--uh--a woman that I knoweo ma rried a un c Ie 0' mine. She ~IUZ one. HaryAlice: She ~las a witch or , Mr. Black: She wuz a Witch, see. An'--uh--she OU~ a spell on one a , our gran""daugI1''eers cause s I1e go"?ci',a' ~',rith , ,"'t' an , .. - uh--the girl died later cause she would~'t take the spen off! see, an' it \Vould kilJ anybody if' they didn't take the spell off, see. MaryAlice: ( 2'7) If they didn't take the spell off. spell was--that you would just die of time or something or was it~~b Is that what the in a certain amount Mr. Black: Yeah, that's what she done, see iCough_1 an'--uh--so nobody knew it at that time, see, but this ole' woman died, se"" herself. She died 'erself l se'e, an' she told 'em that she did do it. So that s th", ,>Jay that story go",s. But as long as you live und",r the realm of th", Lord's work, see, and try to serve th", Lord, s",,,,, witches cannot do nothin' to you a'taI1, s"'e. M.aryAlice: Vi",1l, do you think, once a per--if a person becomes a witch do you think there is anyway they can get riel of this themselves and not be a witch? Mr. Black: No, because they've blasphemed the Il0Jy Ghost, see, and they can't get forgiveness for that, see. The Bible plainly tells you that you cannot g",t forgiveness for blasph",ming the Holy Chost, SM, and so they have to die an' go to Hell. If they become a witch, they're just lost, that's all. MaryAlice: Uh-do--do you know,..-are there any witches around today that you know? Mr. Black: Oh, yeah, plenty of 'em. Augusta's full of 'em. MaryAlice: Some that YOU--YOll know yourself? Mr. Black: Some that I kno;1 myself. Augusta's full of 'ern. MaryAlice: And do you--do they put spells on people today? 1'11'. Blaclu Ivell, I don't know now--I guess they do. If they--they did back in them days then--I know they do now. vie had-,the reason I know--they some come 1.n our church up there an' we rebuked the dev1.1 in 'em an' they got up an' left. An' we have two or three people in_our church that has the touch of the Holy 8p1.rit, see LHoliness _ Church in Augusta - The Church of the Lord Jesus Christl an' th",y can put their hands on you an' it feelS lil,e ~ fire goes a 11 thu ya'. viE!! got a young boy who can do the same thing an' h", out his Qiillld on that woman an' she fell in the flo'-just fel1r~Ih the flo' and she jumped up an' as she grabbed her pocl,etbook' and: tore out up the aisle as hard as she could she; says, "It can't be so, it can't be so, it can't be so," and sh" nevr did come back. 1'1ary1\lic,,: Did--did she--what-did she tell the congregation that she wuz. a witch or they .just lmew it whn she cam in'? 1'11'. Black: She didn't tll 'ml she didn't tell 'em. But thy found out she wuz, see. They didn't know for shore (28) but when she saId that and done like she di.d then they got to lnvestlgatin' and found out she wuz a witch, see,. She WU2 st!;\dy ing witchcraft is what sh", WUZ ooin' I se",. Don't know how long she had been in i. t but sh I' wa s in witchcraft. Yeah, we got lot of 'em here in this town now. HaryA lice: Viill you tell mel something about \lIha t you can do to keep a witch out of your house, something you can do with a brooms tic],"; \I:hat did you t",ll me about that? Hr. Black: VieD, uh--back "Ihen this old' woman had this spell on my uncle's daughter we put a broom under the doorstep, see. She couldn't come in a't.all, set'!!, That's "Ihy I ]mo\Ved that a wi tch couldn' t cowt'!! over a broom, see. And she went round to the backdoor to come in at t.he backdoor and Wt'!! had one t.here and she couldn't come in t.ht'!!re, MaryAlice: What stooped her from coming? Did she ,just sto!J and couldn't- move anymore? - Hr. Black: Couldn't move. She couldn't move. She couldn't even come IIp the doorstep. Just like you had tied her fe.t \Vhere she couldn't come up t.he doorstep, se HaryAlice: Do you knoH any other things like that, about ho,,! you could keep a witch out? Mr. Black: \\Iel1, no, I1h~-I don't other than .jUBt what 1 ,jUf"t told you, you see. HaryA1 i.cEl: Do YOu--wbat was your uncle's name? Nr. Black: George Black. MaryA1:i.ce: 1'h18 is the man whose daught",r had the spll put on h/jr? Mr. Black: LNod_7 MaryAlicl,: lI'hanl< you very much, Mr. Black. )'1Ho BLACK: INFOm1AN'f' #3: "11':3, Powell is my grandmother.,.-my mother's mother, She Ii VIlS with her daughter and son-in-law, Mr, & Mrs. J. T, Black, at 2044 Central Avenue :in the city liml ts of Augusta. Sh(~ is very sp ry for her 68 years, even after being incapacltated for sE'veral months with a broken arm and cracked rib, which she obtained as a result of her havlng fallen dmm a steep set of frontporch steps. I remember her relating her tale about Little Orphan AnniO"! way back into my chHcJhood. The following is a transcript of the r@cording session that I had wi th my grandmother on OctobO"!r ;~6, 1968, a t a pproxima tely 6:00 PN. MaryA Hce: Mrs. Powell, will you to"!l] me your full name, please? Mrs e Powell: Mildr~d Goodwin Powell e MaryAlice: And where were you born? Mrs. Powell: In Augusta, on Ninth Street, Richmond County. NaryAliee: Is thls wh<'\re YOll grew up? HI's. P01l1<'\11: No,. I lived i.n s<'\veral diff<'\rent--uh--parts of town but alv18.ys in the city of Augusta. MaryAllee: l/Jhen were you born? HI's. PO\'lell: N:l.netElen hundred [1900_7, September t1l1E"ntieth. MaryAllee: Would you tell me a little bit about your early 1:1.1'&-- your--h01l1 much--your Bconom:l.e baekground--if you were well off financially and a little bit about your schooling? Hrs.I)01l1ell: \:.'ell, \'Ie wasn't, as Yoll \'!ould say, rich, but \'Ie whadn't--uh--the poorest because my father vms an enginBI'I'--ra ilroad eng:i.n@er and at tha t timp, tha t was a pr",tty good ;job. 'f'h@re was a big famEy of us bull'!e lived well and alw~yS lived in a bIg home and there was elevf!lD chlldren. j1aryAlice: This e~<'!ven children' d:l.dh' t work a hardship financially? You shU had enough for all of you? (31) HI'S, Pow&.ll: Y@s, we a1--\<le always had a plenty--even had~-uh-hIred help to do such thIngs as \'!ashIn' --the laundry. NaryAlice; lihere do you now resIde? Nrs. Powel1: i\ t--uh--~'wenty forty-four C@ntra1 Avenue with my daughter. NaryAlice: HI's. Povlel1, dId you liv(~ on a farm, or was it always in town? Mrs. Powell: Always in the city. !1a ryA lice : Do you lwol'! anything about the custom of planting by the signs? Mrs. Powell: Hell, we never dId have--uh--anything likl'; a garden-just yards-,,-but we dId li.ve in a neighborhood vlhere there were people an' I've always he'ard that the moon governed everything an' I do know of thes" two neighbors that one a1vJays planted and they were arguing about olantin' at the tim<!l of the moon an' onE' was Dlantin' an' the other onl; told her that she was plantin' at the wrong time--that what grew--uh-yi. eldd above the ground you plan ted when the moon was growin' an' on the wanEl of th... moon you planted \<lhat yield",d underground, An' she said, "Well 1 don't plant in th moon; I plant on ground," Slthat's about all 1--1 heard that when 1 was real little. NaryAlice: "'auld you t",ll me--uh--vlha t you had told me b",fore; tho. t ha ppened--uh--to your father on thl' ra D road line--something that--that most people might consi.der as superstition--would you--were--are you yourself superstitious or dId you know pl;ople; and would you tell me; about this story'? Mrs. Powell: Hell, 1 nEwer vras superstitious myslf. 1 hea rei a lot of things but 1 do know that this happened to my father, 11", was a railroad enginei'll' an' working one night wh",n it was real--had been real bad an' raining the rlight before. An' after he got way out on the line, the fireman who stands at the fr'ont of the englne always waves his lantern, They had lanterns in them days l to stop or di--different signals. An' he waved it an my father stopped the engine an' he--the fireman asked what did he stop for. He said, ""~/ ,1e1, you wavde,t"le 1an t ern.1\"1re sal. d 1 'h'>' !O, 'I didn't wave it," So they went on an' i.t happened again. An' the firE!man come back to hlm an' hI; said, "vihy cHd you do that--what'd you stop for?" II L o0J 81.(A' ') l(''\,'0J~..'.ll , 1 cl]_d.!. l' t/e 1\ l. Ie~_ s. a''1'(1., "\""&,\'1:1'., '_I.C'~, t'' vc valk UD the) track an' see if there's somebody up thl;re," So when th~y walked up the track a piece--not very far-thleY found that the track was all wash(~d out wrl:1ch ,<lould havt" caus<od them a bad vlrecK, had they gone' on. MaryAHce: NI's. Powell: Mrs. Pow",ll: (32) Does he thInk this vJaS a warning to hIm or 'vlhat-what do you think hI!) thought about it'? Yes, he thinks that that was a warnIng because if hehadn I t made th<'!!m stops-.a.n' --an' walked up to have seen he--it would have run--ran over an' the engine would have turned over. Mrs. PoweD., \<Jould you tell me what yOIJ. know about-~ uh--your family's ancestry? Well, my fa--my s1st.I' that'~ older than I am told me t.rlCl.t my father's p1'1ople-,ouh--way back came from Ireland. Now, my mother's 9",ople--I don't know if they came from any foreign country but I do know that--that my father desc"'nded from Ireland. NaryAlic",: What is your sister's name? Mrs. Powell: Mrs. Stratacos. lhat is a Greek name. Her husband was a Grka MaryAlice: Does she livl'l here :l.n Augusta? Mrs. Posell: She lives at Country Club Apartments, Augusta, Georg:l.a. MaryA] ice: 'Im.y, now--uh--I understand that yon lmowoooo uh--a ballad type of a song a bout a "lar that you can tell me a littl~ bit about and then sing some of it for mee V'otU.d 0'011 do this now? Mrs. Powell: Well, this song that I'm thinking of is one that--uh well my grandfather fought In the vJaroowhat they called the boys In bIlle, an' my mother, 1-lhen I was r"a1 little used to sing the song, an' her father had rn it to her. An'--uh--it-~I don't think it's "'ThE! Dying Soldier" but it was something lik" the--the message that the boy sent-his last words to his mother. An' it went like this: The shot an I :3hell was screamlng Upon the battlefield; The boys in blue were fighting, Thei.r noble flag to shleld. Came the cry from their great captain "oay.u1g, "t"O3y"", our f.: .Jag 'J.5... d.,)wn. Who'll volunteer to save it from disgrace'?" "I wllI!" a young man shouted, "I'll bring it back or (He." He sprang into the thickest of the fight. Saved the flag but lost his young life All for his country's sake. They brought him back an' h~ard lim softly say, (33) "J us t break the news to mo ther; ,c'hl" 1"now~3 how dear I love her. An' tell her not to look for me, For I'm not coming hom. Say, boys there is no other Can tak the place of my mother; So kiss her dear sweet lips for me, For I'm not coming home." HaryAlice: 'Kay, an' when did you say you first r",m@mber hearing thi.s song'r' HI'S. Powell: 1:JhE'm I was real Ii ttll'--as far back as I can rememb",r my mother "IOu]d sing it an' she said that her father who fought in that war had taught :l.t to th"'m--to her and her sisters. NaryAHce: \'!hat about the" ballad of"LittIe Mary l"agan"'i Mrs. 20w"11.: ':'1'011, 1 never did know but just a couple of verses-I never did learn it but I rememb!lr at the tim('l when it haClpened an' it was all :l.n the newspapers an' that :l.t did haopen :l.n Atlanta, Georg:l.a. An' I believe the name of the murderer vIaS Leo Frank. An' I thInk that h. was drug out an' lynched right there short.ly aft.er :l.t happened--as well as I can remember--but that was years ago, too. An' all I know of :l.t is: 1,ittl. Mary Fagan, she went to town one day. She went to the pencil factry to get her last week's pay. She left her home at eleven an' kissed her mother good-bye. Not one time did the poor child think that she was going to die. Leo I'rank, who met her, with a brutal heart., you knov!. He laughed an' so. id to Ma ry, "You' 11 go hom'!' no more." Thore's severs] ve rses but I .j ust don't remember becaus'!' I was real smal1 an' I don't remember It all, but I did remember that they said that he was a Jew, an' that hE" o\.JYlf"ld that p.ncil factory that thIs l:l.ttle girl worked in an' she made her liv:l.n' there-just f' she an' her mother. l'laryAlic/;: Do you know when--what year th1s was supposed to'av/!!' ha,l pen ed', Mrs. Povl"ll: No, I don't .know vlhat' cheal' it vlaS. t'laryAIic.: All right, nowwoulc1 you tell me about th" "Littl@ Orphan Annie" tale? Mrs. Powell: viell, that's just a 1:lttle fairy tale, of caul's"" that we used to sit around--an' I had a couple of ole' maid aunts that just lived with us an' they used t' sit with us at night an' tell u.s that cha' knOlv, just lIke little ghost stories. And that was; Little Orphan Annie came t' our house t' stay '1'0 vlash the cups an' saucers up an' brush the crumbs away An' shlo the chickens from the porch An' dust the hearth an' sweep, Make the fires an' make the bread An' earn her board an' keElp. An' all us other chUdren, when the supper thIngs were done, We'd sit around th' kitchen fire an' had th' mostest fun. We'd listen to th' witch tales that Annie told a bout. She sa 113, "Th' goblins' 11 gi t ehujf you don't wa teh outo" So once there was a little boy; He didn't say '1s prayers; An' whIm he went t' bed a t night away upsta Irs, IUs mama heard 'im holler an' hIs poppa hea I'd 'im baWl, An' when they went to look 1" him, 1'urned th' covers down, He wasn't ther~ at all. They seeked 'im in the rafty room , the cubby holes an' press; They look.ed 1" hIm in th' chimney an' everywhere I guess. But all they ever found was this-Hi spants an' roundabouts. An' th' gobl1ns'll glt 'chu, too,if, you don't watch out. An' then there was a little girl; f3he always laughed an' grinn!'\d. She made fun of everyOne an' all her blood an' kin; An' once whl'ln the re was compny an' th' 01<'" folks Wl'l re the I'e, She mocked 'em an' she shockl'ld 'l'lill an' she said she didn't care. JIlSt as she turned to run an' hide, Two great big black things were right by her sIde. They snatched her through th' cl'liling 'fo' she knew what shO'! was about Cause th' gob] ins 'II gl t t ctl~~ if you don't WR. tch out. An' Little Orohan Annie says, "\/hen the blaze is blue, the lampwicl<, sputters , an' the wind goes 'woo', You better mind your parents an' yo' teachers fond an' dear, erJsll ::i] } thai, ,1(>v~' ycu an' (~r/ 1 or Til s i. eB r, YOr'thE" 51],] glt Iei'lL! sure, If you (ten l ,,: -via. tch CL1~t .. lJ, Cherish all that love you an' dry th' orphan's tear, For the goblins'll git 'ehu sure, if you don't 'VIa teh out, MaryAlice: 'Thanl( you, HI's, Pow"lL Nrs. Powell: YOll' re vreleorr:e. NRS. POvlELL: (6) INFO RHANT 1/4: Hr. POI-Jell is my uncle~-my grandmoth"r's son. He lives with his family and works in Gracewood, Georgia, v/hioh t. s ,j ust a bout seven miles south of Augusta. H. is a very haapy-go-lucky person, and I have often listened to him play the harmonica. '1he follovl1.ng is a transcript of the recording session th8.t I had wIth my uncle on October 26, 196B, at approximately B:l1 ') P11\; l'taryAlic",: tll', ~)owell,would you stat", your full nam", for me, please? Mr, Powell: James Arthur Powell. HaryAlice: v!hen were you born? Mr, Powell: In 192'). Maryl\lIcA: And where were you born? H:c. !)owAIl: In August.a, GeorgIa, down on Calhoun St.reet. MaryAlice: t';here do you live now? Mr. POi,jell: At Gracewood, GeorgIa, at the Gracewood St.ate School and H.ospital. HaryAliee: HD.ve you always lIved around August.a? Hr. Powell: Host of my life exempt. sevent.een years that I spent in the United States Navy. HaryA lice: "'iha t ls your occllpa t.i.on? llcT'. Powell: I'm a ~mp.rvlsor over heatll'll' faciltties at t.he Gracewood Instltutton. HaryAlice: Okay, would you tell me when you fIrst started playing t.he harmonIca and--uh--how you came to be interest. ed In the instrument? HI', Powell: We]], it ViaS! back in x\inl'iteen forty-two or forty three-1.1, \"as dLu'jng World 1,\ar II an' I was what they call s baUer' tenc1ant--watchln' an' checldn' bollers. An' I was checkin' vlster--feedin' the boilers water. An'-the hours got. long an'--lonely an'~.s'I bought. myself a harmonica an' ,just sit up thl'tY'e an' hummed on one (37) an' playt,d on one until I found out whIch note viaS whIch until I could--P\lt 'em together to wake it com~ out an' sound like somethin'. ~'laryAlice: A' right, would you playa few of thos01 songs for m", now? Mr. PO\fell: Sure willlclearB throat_/First song we'll try 'a be "Down Yonder." lSong is played_/ Now, we'll play the second song--we'll play kind of a sad song--<we1' 11 play "Down In 'J'he Vall~y." An' nO\f a right oretty song--\fe' call it "V'ildwood Flowe'r. " Now w,,' 11 play "Home, Sweet Home." lSong is played_/ An' now we gon' try a little faster song with a different type 0' harmonica an' hope it t 11 sound like "Boil ~'be Cabbage Down." Now we'll go back t' th' other harmonica Bn' play "On ~IOp of Ole Smokey," LSong is Illayed.../ Miss Toomey, we gon' try a little somethin' \fith the singl. not. harmonica an'--uh--I used to could make th.-harmonica talk a litt1. bit. So I'm 'anna ast you a f.w qUi"stions an' you talk back to the harmonica an' vle'll see if ,vI" can't make the harmonica answer you. Now the first thing I want you to do is just say, "Harmonica," an' when you say that, then I'm 'on try to rnal,e the harmonica answer you. 'J'hen after that, when the harmoniea answers you--then after that yOll !3ay, "Harmoniea, whata you want'?" An' then! I'll do my best to answer that question for you, MaryAUce: Okay. l[:low 1<11', Po,vell is warming up B little-L MaryAlice: Harmonica? (8) HaryAlic",: 1',hat' chn want? LHarmonica answ~rs_7 11a,ryAlic~: I want my mama, Mr, Powell: Yeahl An' now, we'll s.~ if w~ can't mak~ this harmonica sound somethin' a little bit like B train-it might not sound like it--but we'll do our best with it. iUa I'mon lca_7 Ma ryA Hec: 'Iha t wa s good. HI', Powell: ~'hc next song we gon' play is a purty song an' it was a song that when my mother first found out that I was playin' th' harmonica an' I playcd this song on~ time an' f' th' past tw~nty--tw~nty-flve years it'd ahlays been h~r favorit~. f30 \v~ gon' playa littll" bit of S'--"Dells of St. Hary's," An' now, in finishin' this little part f' Miss Toomey, we'll end all these little songs up with a little prayer son!? I'm really not gon' say what tb' namE' of it is an' f' this project I'm jus' gon'play it. l1iss Toomey lmows the' name' of it; but Vie' 11 SN, if any otber stncJen t:s can.. -uh,~-t",11 you what th' words are an' if they've ",Vel' heard it bcfore. iPlays th", song, "Nmv I Lay He DovlYl 1'0 Sleep,"'_} MaryAHce: ~lr. Powell, yon told me that this used to be a theme song--somethin' for a particular radio program. Would you tell me about that? ~1r. Powell: Yeah, yes it cHd. It was a theme song about far back as I can rememb<!lr ,.hen I was a little flla' about sev'n or eight years old. It used to be a theme song for a radi.O program :f' a man an t his son, which they calld, "Littltll Jimmy," an' h", always sang th is song when he came on radio an' When be went off. MaryAlice; Okay, thank you very much, MR. POWELL: (39)
A PDF transcript exists for this recording. Please contact an archivist for access.
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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