Shirley Sheffield interview with William Harvey Hicks, Ella Lee White, and Julia McKinney Hicks (part two)

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This is the second of a two part interview. It begins with William Hicks recalling a spiritual healing cure in which repeating a wounded persons name stops their bleeding. Then at 3:26, he tells a few tall tales that he learned from a local storyteller named Bill Morrison. At 6:10, Julia Hicks, his wife, recalls corn shuckings, and then he tells a joke about a woman cooking bread on a tree stump. After sharing biographical information, at 9:30 William Hicks explains how lunar phases helped determine when to plant vegetables. At 12:30, he recounts folk remedies he used after a drunk man shot him in the lung: peachtree poultice to reduce inflammation, drinking apple brandy, and eating rock candy and raw eggs. Next at 14:10 William Hicks tells a story about a man who started a fire in winter, a folk superstition about rattlesnakes charming people, and a joke about a preacher and an unfaithful woman. Afterwards, the Hickses discuss how hornet nests and the thickness of a corn husk can indicate the severity of the upcoming winter. At 19:00, William Hicks tells a few funny stories about Irishmen and churches. At 22:00, Julia Hicks explains that corn harvests were a communal and gendered event where women cooked dinner and men worked the fields. At the end of the recording, William Hicks tells a few jokes.
William Harvey Hicks (1881-1978) was born to William (1851-1923) and Mary Hicks (1857-1932), along with six siblings, in White County, Georgia. He worked as a carpenter, cobbler, and farmer before marrying Dovie Hensley (1884-1964) in 1900. They had two daughters, Hettie Jane (1902-1988) and Dorothy Marie Hicks (1925-2011). After the death of his first wife, in 1967, he married Julia McKinney (1909-1991). Ella Lee (1886-1983) was born to Luella Ester McWilliams (1858-1945) and Henry Walter McWilliams (1857-1936), along with six siblings, in Spalding, Georgia. In 1908 she married Arthur Ambrose White (1888-1936), and they had six children. After her first husband died, she remarried and moved to Fannin County, Georgia, near Copper Ridge, Tennessee.
It was late afternoon on October 31, 1970 when we discovered the beginning of mountain-road Route 2 off Route 5 just outside of Blue Ridge, Fannin County, Georgia. The winding road eventually crossed a sturdily-built- bridge, wide enough to accomodate only one car, spanning Jack's River, which at this point, is fairly wide and fast-running. Only a few feet from the road and facing the bridge squarely, sat a fine, two-storied old house, with a painted porch on the first floor, and an unpainted balcony on the second. An elderly gentleman was seated on the front porch, and the scene was so picturesque that we stopped immediately and met Mr. W. H. Hicks, a wonderfully spry old gentleman of 89, and his slightly younger wife, Julie. Mr. Hicks, who is a bloodstopper, was eager to talk. Mr. Hicks was born in Cleveland, White County, Georgia in July, 1881. He has spent a good deal of his life travelling throughout the Southeast, pursuing his trade as carpenter. He has also worked as a cobbler in south Georgia, and as a farmer. In 1900, he married his first wife, who died in 1964. In 1967, he married "the widder McKinney," who is his present wife. Mr. Hicks is an attractive man, with sparkling blue eyes and a shock of white hair. He is a willing raconteur who delights in telling the tall tales that were told to him in his youth by a man named Bill Morrison, who apparently was an enthusiastic liar. Mr. Hicks said that he had not told these tales in years and has, indeed, forgotten most of them. I got the impression from his wife's reactions to his tale-telling that she is a little embarrassed by his repertoire (which must have been formidable in his younger years), and that they both considered "lying" to be the occupation of a younger and less Christian man. However, with some encouragement, Mr. Hicks remembered a few tall tales which I felt were valuable, and we were genuinely entertained by his enthusiastic storytelling, despite his now somewhat limited repertoire. I felt, too that he was pleased by our interest, and enjoyed our visit as much as we did. On our second visit, on November 13, however, he and his wife had both been ill, and he was in a less cheerful mood and was less eager to talk. Mr. Hicks was not in the least mike-shy, although his wife was. The few instances on the tape in which she contributed her memories of corn-shuckin's and log-rollin's were obtained after much encouragement. She actually participated in these activities, whereas Mr. Hicks had merely "heerd tell of workin's an' sech" but could not recall participating in any himself. My only major disappointment was Mr. Hicks' reticence when questioned about his work as carpenter. He was not willing to talk with me in any detail about house plans, although he has "built many a house." 2. Bloodstopping Sheffield: This is Mr. Hicks in Blue Ridge, Georgia, and he's going to tell us how to stop blood. Mr. Hicks: Say, if I was goin' to stop it on my wife, I'd have to say: And when I passed by thee and saw thee, Julie Hicks, in thine own blood polluted, thine own blood polluted, I said unto thee, Julie Hicks, when thou wast in thy blood, live. Yea, I said unto thee, Julie Hicks, when thy- wast in thy blood, live. That there's what you do now, to stop it. Just whoever you're stoppin' it on, you got to call their name in it as you come to it, you know. Here, you got to call her name three times. Hit's right here, see? Now you look at it. And when I passed by Julie Hicks, and saw thee polluted in thine own blood, I said unto Julie Hicks, when thou wast in thy blood, live. Yea, I said unto Julie Hicks, when thou wast in they blood, live. (The Bible verse referred to in the above is Ezekiel 16:6. The following is a memorate concerning Mr. Hicks' experience as a bloodstopper.) Mr. Hicks: This was in my first wife's lifetime, you know, and my friend and I went to Tifton to trade some, and as we went on back, why, we didn't have brakes on the wagon, and the going down the hill the mule started trottin' pretty fast and--and he ---1 hollered scat thar at the mule, you know, and hit started runnin'. An' I grabbed the lines and was gonna drag 'em back hard that way and slow 'em down; he grabbed a-hold of the lines in front of my hands, and jerked and broke the lines--both of 'em. That mule didn't have--it run a lick down the hill and uh I jumped out over the wheel, an' he went to the back an' jumped out an' it cut a great gash over his eye. An' the blood uz just a-runnin' down his face--just a-pourin'. And he said: Oh, Harvey, I'm killed: An' so I said: Well, what's all your name? An' he give it to me, and I--the blood quit in just a few steps after we were there. You've got to say this, it's supposed to be your--I mean uh interest in it, you know. . . . Sheffield: You have to believe it. Mr. Hicks: . . . .and believin' in it, you see. You got to believe the Bible. I read the New Testament through nine--twenty times and started way over into the twenty-second time, from one side to the other. I read ev'ry day and ev'ry night. 3. Tall Tales Mr. Hicks: He was out a-huntin' an' he come to a branch an' he wanted a drink, well, it uz late, an' he just jerked his hat off an' hung it up an' stooped down an' got him a drink a water, an' when he got up, why, he'd hung it on a corner of the moon an' it'd got so high, he couldn't reach it! Mrs. Hicks: Now thrt was a tale! Mr. Hicks: He had to wait until the next night to get his hat. Said he was goin' along the road then, an' he heard a awful racket right over (?) the log, said he went up thar an' he said the moon uz trying to make change an' it lost a quarter an' he throwed. a quarter over there an' it went right on! Sheffield: You do know some old tales. Mr. Hicks: Oh, I used to know a lot of 'em. His name uz Bill Morrison, an' he uz awful to tell tales. Said. whenever he uh died an' was buried, you might say there laid a pile of truth--he uz tellin' his lies out all before he died. Said the feller had a little bottom an' it had a little mountain in it an' said that he'd been tryin' to roll it out an' he'd been-- had a prise pole tryin' to turn it out an' said he couldn't do nothin' with it an' Morrison told him he'd move it out for so much money an' he said alright, he'd give it. Well, he had five yoke of cattle he said, an' he just told them all to go yonder one an' he was goin' to drive that steer up on that mountain an' tie tail to this prise pole an' drive the steer on over an' roll the mountain out. But when th3 steer got up pretty close, got scared asomethin' an' a-snorted an' it blowed the mountain out but that prise pole hit the owner of it an' knocked him clear 'cross the river. An' he said: Come on over an' git your money, if it don't do me no good, maybe hit wi1l some of my folks." He'd just tell them big lies, you know, and knowed that nobody didn't believe nothin' of it. (The above tall tales are part of the repertoire told to Mr. Hicks by Bill Morrison. They were told by Mr. Hicks with few gestures, but with merry eyes--giving his delighted audience a hint that the tale was a lie before he ever reached the punch line!) 4. Memorate (After much cajoling, Mrs. Hicks, who was very mike-shy, agreed to relate for us her memories of corn shuckin's her father held.) Mrs. Hicks: Ev'ry fall, he'd git his corn together an' then he'd invite the neighbors in (that sun!) he'd invite the neighbors in to shuck it. An' they'd all come in, just a lot of 'em, an' he'd have it piled up an' they'd gather around that big pile a corn an' we'd fix 'em a nice dinner an' they'd all shuck the corn an' have dinner an' they'd have singin' after they got through with their corn shuckin', an' have a good time 'tit way in the night. Sheffield: Banjer playing and fiddles? Mrs. Hicks: An' fiddles? Yes an'. . . .but it was all nice, it all had to be uh carried .on nice--no drinkin' or anything like that, he didn't allow that. Joke (Mr. Hicks told. this as a true story, although it seems to be a joke concerning the battle of the sexes. On my second visit, he repeated this story, telling it in a slightly different way, so that it appears later on the tape.) Mr. Hicks: This is the truth, though. This man he wasn't much good. to get his wife stove wood, you know, to cook with, an' he'd made a workin' an' uh they'd went on up an' doin'`the:work an' when dinner time come he come to the house an' ask his wife was dinner ready. Well, she said uh: I'll go out an' see if the bread's done, I made up my bread an' set it out in the sunshine on a stump. (Said) I didn't have no stove wood. I'll go see if it's done. He went out and got her some stove wood then she cooked her bread. (The following are some reminiscences.) Mr. Hicks: In 1900, I come to the store here on this place here an' bought my suit of clothes that I got married in the first time. I got married in the first time. I got married seventy years ago this third Sunday in last month. Sheffield: Really? Mr. Hicks: And uh, then I lost my wife six years ago in July. An' three years ago in last July, I married this woman here. Mrs. Hicks: Miz McKinney. Mr. Hicks: She was Miz McKinney. I used to know 'em long way back yonder, you know. But, I move around a lot. Used to. I've sorta quit it now, got--got sorta old now. I've quit movin' so much. I moved to 5. Maryville twenty years ago an' stayed there 'tit my wife died. An' then, after I got married to Miz McKinney I stayed with her here. Let my daughter have my home up there. I still got a. home up in Maryville, Tennessee. But uh she lives there an' I just. . . .my wife's lived here ever since she got married the first time--right here in this house, ever since 19 and 13. Sheffield: Wow. You've been here a long time. Mr. Hicks: It seems like home to her you know. An', it seems like home to me now. I like it allright. Planting Signs i'; r. Hicks: (When the sign is) in the breast, it's a good time to plant most anything. But don't never plant beans when the signs is in the bowels-- they'll just bloom theirselves to death an' not have no beans, they'll just shed off. An' don't never plant right on the new of the moon if you corn. If you do it just runs way up yonder in the air right up towards the top. When the moon is full or about full, it's a good time to plant. An' don't plant when the sign's in the heart too much. An' when you dig Arsh (Irish) taters, wait 'tit the sign gets out of the body down in the legs to dig Arsh taters. I was comin' over here to the store one day an' a man was diggin' his taters an' I said: Why, Wes, I wouldn't dig my taters now. He laughed in my face about it. I said: Well, they'll all rot. An' before Christmas, he was just a-givin' his taters to anybody'd take 'em they was just a-rottin' an' mush-rottin' an' he lost 'em all. I wait 'til time to dig mine an' I never lost a tater. I had taters next spring, never rotted a one. They's a lot in signs, 'bout your plantin' an' diggin' an' gatherin' you know. Folk Cure Memorate Mr. Hicks: Over on the mountain, on the store that I lived with, you know, an' I went up there to the store fer somethin' an' the womenfolks was all in the dinin' room eatin' dinner an' they's three men out thar that didn't belong thar just no more than I did you know, an' one of 'em was drunk. An' he got up, went in an' got a .22 rifle, I was sittin' in the chair out by the hall door an' them other men sittin' right on the other side of me, an' there's an L to the house an' this drunk man was out here on this porch an' the phone wire come in at that corner yonder, an' he said: I'm gonna shoot the phone wire in two. An' this--my landlady's girl 'bout 12 years old just had come out thar an' was standin' by my side an' had her hand on my shoulder, an' I'd spoke somethin' or other to this man was sittin' on the other side of the door to me, from me, an' the drunk feller come 'round an' he shot me through the right lung. Bullet's thar in the muscle of my back now. An' uh I asked him why he shot me an' he said: Oh, I didn't go to do it! He throwed the gun down an' run up to me an' said: I didn't go to do it: An' I went an'; told the menfolks to call the doctor fer me an' I lived 'bout as fer from here to the barn over thar an' I started home, why, them two fellers run out thar an' got me one under the arm under the other one an' went on down the house. Doctor come in a little bit an' he tol' my wife said: There ain't no transfer him. He might live six hours but (said) that he uh cain't live. An' she called another one an' he said: He might live ten or twelve hours (said) they ain't no chance fer him. Ain't no use try to git the bullet. An' she said: Well, long as they is breath, let's do what we can fer him. An' he said: Well, if anythin' keep down inflamation it will be a peachtree poultice. Take boiled peachtree, you know, an' get a strong leaf (?) an' thicken it with meal put a little turpentine an' salt in it. Put it on my stomach an' my wife an' my landlady together put a fresh poultice on my stomach every thirty minutes day an' night fer two weeks. An' I began to git better. Well, got up where I could walk around an' uh insurance on me to go to Atlanter. An' they'd set up abcess on my lung, wanted me ter go to Atlanter, an' they said they'd pay my way down thar an' back an' have a doctor examine me. y ell, we went down thar an' doctor said: Well. (Said) you got an abcess on your lung 'cause the bullet went through part of your lung. (Interruption by cement truck passing on the bridge in front of house) Said you're goin' to have t'have an operation. ti n' my landlord said: Ain't they no chance fer him without the operation" He said: No. Well, I said: I ain't a-gonna have it. I got up an' went on back to the train an' went home an' called this doctor that first doctored me. Told him, I said: I realize I cain't 7. stay here long if thar ain't somethin' done fer this lung. He said: Git you a gallon of apple brandy an' put rock candy in it, take you a spoonful of it twice--ub three times a day. An' eat two raw eggs 'fore dinner an' two 'fore supper. (Said) that'll hep your lungs. Well, I weighed a hunerd an' eight pounds--I's just skin an' bones when I commenced with that an' I tuk it fer forty days an' weighed a hunerd an' sixty-five pounds. An' I'm still here, that was in 19 an 12, an' I'm still here with the bullet in my back, not a-botherin' me a bit. Tall Tale Mr. Hicks: He said one time he was out a-huntin' an' said he killed a bar (bear) way up on a. high bluff, said it was about forty feet straight down an' said thar was solid rock down thar. Said that bar pushed him off that bluff an' he marred (mired) up in that rock to his knees. Said it--snow was 'bout shoe-mouth deep an' said he had to go home an' git the mattock to dig out with an' said when he got dug out he's so hot he's 'fraid he'd take cold so he clumb up an' down the hick'ry sapplin' 'til he set the woods afire. Snow shoe-mouth deep! Said that's the hottest fire he ever seen. (This tall tale was told to Mr. Hicks by Bill Morrison) Memorate (The following is a memorate containing a folk belief) Mr. Hicks; When I moved in we moved up in the mountains, just cleared out a place an' built a house outa logs. Cut a big chestnut tree right down by the edge of the yard, an' it was holler, an' that spring, why, the sprouts come up around the stump, an' my little brother was got out thar on the end of the log an' was a-pullin' them sprouts off en the stump an' they was a rattlesnake in the stump, stuck its head up through them sprouts an' went to singin', an' it charmed him--he couldn't move'. He could talk, but he couldn't move: An' he hollered: Mother, come here, thar's a rattlesnake: An' she said: Well, git away! He said: I cain't. An' when she run grabbed him by the arm, jerked him away, why he'd hit the log right where he was sittin'. She got out the broom an' killed it. (The following material was taped on my second visit to Mr. Hicks on November 13, 1970.) Preacher Joke Mrs. Hicks: You ready to tell her that un again" Mr. Hicks: You want me to tell her that un? Feller lived back in the backwoods, didn't never go no where an' preacher thought one Sunday mornin' he'd go up an' see if he couldn't get him to go to church. Well, he walked up to the door' an' the woman come to the door an' he said good mornin', an' she said good mornin'. He said: Where's John? She said: Why, he took his gun an' went off squirrel huntin' a while ago. He said: Mir good woman, didn't you know Jesus Christ died fer us? She said: Why, Law no, is he dead? I tol' John we'd live back out here in the backwoods an' never go no where an' we wouldn't know nothin'. Take no papers. He said: I'm afraid you're in the dark. She said: Yeah, I been tryin' to get John to cut out a winder a good while, an' he won't do it. He said: I'm afraid you're weak sister. She said: Yeah, an' if you'd a-suckled twin boys all summer an' a-had the belly ache all summer you'da been weak, too. He said: If you'll give me a chew terbaccer, I'll go. She said: I ain't got no terbaccer, but (she said) I got some a the best pine resin you ever chewed. I give you some a hit. I suppose she left--he left her at that time. Weather Signs Mr. Hicks: If a hornet build his nest on the ground, you may look out fer a rough winter. But if they livebuild up high, why, you generally have a perty well open winter. If you'll notice that, why you'll see it works pretty good. Mrs. Hicks: When the corn has a heavy shuck, a very thick, heavy shuck on it, why, it'll be a very cold winter. As many fogs as they is in summer, they'll be that many a snows durin' the winter months. 10. Numbskull Tales Mr. Hicks: Arshman (Irishman) come over to this country an' he got a place to stay all night an' it was on Saturday. Sunday mornin', why, this man he stayed all night with said: Let's go to church. He said: What is church? He said: Why, it's whar a crowd gathers in thar an' nobody talks but the man in the box. An' he went with him an' went on in thar an preacher got t'preachin' perty good an' they's an of man that the Arshman happent to be a-settin' by he'd say: Amen! ev'ry once an' a while. An' the Arshman ud punch 'im in the side an' say: Faith an' be Christ, nobody talks but the man in the box! An' he kept punchin' him an' the preacher noticed it, an' said: I wish some a you gentlemen ud take that man outa here. An a course they meant f'take the Arshman out you know, an the Arshman jumped up an' said: Faith an' be Christ, I kin take 'im out by myself an' grabbed t'ol' man up a.n^r drug ' .him out. They tell a lot a tales on Arshmans. One stayed all night with my neighbor he was uh I used to work fer this man that he stayed with an' he went to feed the stock next mornin' at the barn, he said: I'll go with you. An' he had a terbaccer patch, perty big terbaccer--nearly grown you know, nearly big enough to cut. He said: Faith an' be Christ, what's this big weed? An' the man told him it uz terbaccer. He said: Terbaccer. Terbaccer. Pulled out a piece a plug outa his pocket an' said: It don't look like terbaccer to me. He said: Well, uh, when it gets ripe we cut it down, an' cure it an' se:-ic it to the fact'ry an' they pack it like your terbaccer. Oh, Well, he said, I'd love to git some seed of it (he said) if I couldn't git but a peck it'd be puttin' me in seed--a peck a terbaccy seed would plant the whole county! But he did, he thought it was such a big weed, had to be a big seed'. They tell a lot a tales on Arshmans. I'm part Arsh myself. But I never was that bad off! Another feller was a Arshman come an he--he uh stayed all night with a feller an he wanted 'im to go to church with 'em, well he went but he wouldn't go in. Stood out thar in the yard, tarpan (terrapin) come walkin' through the yard. An' he said: Hey, you man of God, come out here! Kept on 'tit the preacher come to the door, he said: That's the first cow turd I ever seen a-walkin'. 11. Mr. Hicks: . . . .Arshman did, an' got him a home. An' he wrote to his partner in Arland an' told him to come over here, they had best fruits ev'rything over here uz good. An' there uz a persimmon tree thar fulla 'simons an' it--they wasn't ripe. An' I said: I'll (this man that lived thar said) I'll climb up in the tree an' I'll shake 'em off, an you kir. eat. An' he got up thar an' commenced to shakin' the persimmons off an them green, you 'know, they wouldn't--they would be drawy, you know they would. AA he eat a few an' he said: Faith an' be Christ, (he said) if you want a know anythin' about the of country you'd better come down, I'm closin' up. Persimmons uz drawin' his mouth up. I guess that's all I know to tell you, honey. Memora to Mrs. Hicks: I don't know hardly how to put things together like that. Well, people used to--the men would pull an' clear up a field. An' then they'd have let the country come in--the neighbors all of 'em, they'd go the day before, an' invite the neighbors uh when they got ready to roll the logs an' pile 'em all up an' uh burn 'em. An' the women would uh usually on the day before, they would cook, mostly cakes an' custard pies--mostly gingerbread at that time they called it, an uh kill chicken an' have chicken an' dumplins, an' uh turnips, an' taters, an' fix a big dinner then fer the men that uz a-rollin' logs an' burnin' 'em. They'd pile 'em up and have great piles a logs an' burn 'em. An' hepped one another a lot like that. Sheffield: This was just to clear land, wasn't it? Mrs. Hicks: Yes, whar they was wantin' to clear land you know to make it--to plant corn during that settlin' (?). Tall Tale Mr..Hicks: Ol' man Bill Morrison, he an another feller started off deer huntin'. Well, they got after a deer, an' they uz watchin' the deer an' the other feller with 'im run agin a snag, an' snagged his guts out. Well, Morrison said he run on a little piece an' he seed a bunch a-- sheep an' he shot one a them down an gutted it an run back put it in the man an' he started on but he said he never went but a. little piece 'tit he found a lamb an' had to stop an let it suck, an' the deer got away at last. 12. Joke (This is the same battle-of-the-sexes joke Mr. Hicks told me on my first visit.) Mr. Hicks: A man made a workin' once, an' they went on out to work an' dinner time come an' he come to the house. . . . Mrs. Hicks: I believe he told you that un before. Mr. Hicks: . . . .to see if dinner's ready an' she said: Well, I'll go out an' see if the bread's done, she'd--(said) they didn't have no stove wood an' I made up my bread an' took it out thar an' set it on the stump. (Said) I'll go see if it's done. Course her bread was dough, you know, just like it was when she stuck it out thar. Well, he went an' got her some stove wood then, an' she got her dinner. He wouldn't keep her stove wood to cook with. I figured he uz a pretty sorry man. I do git my wife stove wood when--that is, when we cook with wood. (The following are from Bill Morrison, who once built chimneys.) Mr. Hicks: Odell, he said when he used to build chimbleys, said the first un he built, he started at the top an' built down on it, an' that thar uz all thar uz to that. An' I built a chimbley fer a feller an' he said to me one day after I'd built it: (he said) My wife cain't git up thar close to the fire, said it draws so it pulled her dress up! Too good a chimbley, wasn't it? 13. The following pages consist of transcription of a. tape which I made on October 31, 1970, of Mrs. E. L. White, 74, wife of Reverend White. Their address is Route 1, Box 125, Mineral Bluff, Georgia, although Mrs. White referred to the area in which they live as Painterstown. This is in Fannin County, Georgia, but is very close to Copper Hill, Tennessee. Mrs. White told me several ha'nt stories about the area, but could not recall any of the stories which her mother, who was born with a veil, had told her. She did, however, remember a story about hunting on Sunday, and a story about the use of silver to kill a witch, which interested me. Sheffield: This is Mrs. E. L. White in "Painterstown" Georgia, and you were telling me, Mrs. White, about how they pray the fire out of a burn? Mrs. White: Yeah, they use the uh the verse in the Bible--I don't know just where it's at now, but they--there's a verse in the Bible where hit's--they--they say that over in their minds, you know, and--and uh they uh blow the fire to it. They blow it 'bout three times, you know, where it was uh uh burned, an' they blow that. Sheffield: I see, yes, and would you tell me again. . . . Mrs. White: An' then they's a verse in the Bible where you uh--where they stop blood., they can--a nose'll be a-bleedin', you know, an' they can quote over that uh verse in the Bible, an' it'll stop blood. Yes. Yes. Sheffield: I see, very interesting. Have you ever had that done? Mrs. White: No, I never did have it. . . .No, I never did have. . . . Rev. White: Now, that's always been claimed, we don't know that. . . . we've heard it was thar, but. . . . Mrs. White: Well, I've always uh--well, I've saw--I've saw--i've saw it uh--I saw people uh that did have it--that did do it. Yes, I have. Sheffield: Oh. Did it work every time? Mrs. White: Yeah, it worked--it sure did. Sheffield: Oh, that's good. Yeah. Well, uh, would you tell me again the uh ha'nt story you were telling me--about the wagon? Mrs. White: My childhood days? Sheffield: Yes; Tell me all about it. Mrs. White: Yes, back when I was little, now I didn't--I don't remember that but that's what my mother tol' me. She said that--that they lived back over here in this place in the Copper Basin you know. Well uh it i;asn't Copper Basin at that time, it was back when--when they burnt ore on top of the mountain over there. Back over here at Mary Mine. An' that's where we lived an' it the--the--when the ore was uh--when they uz burnin' ore hit'd git so foggy--that smoke that couldn't hardly see your hand before you. An' that uz back in my childhood--I kin remember a, little bit about it. (Background noise is Rev. White talking on the telephone.) 'Bout people gittin' lost in that smoke, you know, but we lived over thar an uh my mother said that uh she was a-sewin' on the porch--you know people didn't have sewin' machines at that time. That's been--I'm 74 yars old-- that's been, I guess, around 70 yars. An uh so she said that they uh--she was a-sittin' on the porch a-sewin' you know an' said she saw a covered wagon a-comin'. An well she just never noticed, you know, an' it never did come on. An' she said at that time then they lived in a house--said it was in war tines, you krow, an' said a lot a times, why they'd be uh they'd be jus' like a--a barrel a nails come runnin'--rollin' down the hill. They could hear it but they couldn't see it. An' uh then she said that they uh--I c;in't remember much about it-- but nothin' on just the smoke, you know, an hearin' a people gittin' lost an 'fraid my sisters would when they'd go carry dinner to my daddy. But I remember that. An' so then uh she uh--they lived whar they lived thar why, when it was rainin', drizzly-time, why, they'd be--right down blow 'em was a--a swamp. An' the y 'd be uh--they'd be uh--they'd be settin' on the porch--she kept boarders an uh said there'd be a woman down thar in that swamp just like a woman a-screamin', you know? But they never could find 'er. They never could find 'er. But uh she said just diff'rent thangs that way happened. Well, my daddy was uh---'d come from work, you know, an lot a times, why, there's a time er two that he said he met a woman an' a man with--a woman with no head on an' a man, a-walkin', a-comin' right towards him. Well, they'd just pass him up. An' said he saw that a lot a times. Well, uh one a his nephews was a-boardin' thar an' he said: The nex' time I see that tha.ng, says, I'm gonna cuss it. An' so he did! An' it got him down in a ditch, an' his print was thar for a long time they said. Sheffield: Really? Mrs. White: Yeah. I don't know--now that's what they told. I wasn't--I was too small but he said it sure was true. An' his print was thar in that mud hole fer a long time. An' said that he uh--hit never did leave him 'til he went to callin' on the lord. An'. . . . Sheffield: By callin' on the lord, he made it go away? Mrs. White: By callin' on the lord--why that--hit left him then. An' he got up an' come on then. Sure did. An' well--that's about all I know in that place now. Sheffield: But you were telling me about the uh--who was it that was hunting on Sundays? Mrs. White: Oh yeah, that was his father--John White. His father--my husband's father. An' he was uh--hc was uh=-out huntin' uh--coon huntin' I reckon, or somethin' you know in the mountains an' so hit got--uh atter it turned, you knov; over midnight, why he thought he'd just lay down thar an' he'd wait uh long towards daylight, so it would, maybe, you know, he could see somethin' n'other, you know, to shoot at or whatever he uz huntin' for. An' he laid down an' he said that he uz layin' tha.r an all at once thar come just a-come a big racket 'round the side of the hill, an' it made just a big racket--somepin' runnin' you know? An' said that thar was a log right down near whar he laid b'low him, you know, an' he said all at once that thang just jumped up thar an' put its four feet up on that an said hit's eyes looked like they's big as saucers. Sheffield: Gave him a good scare" Mrs. White: Yeah, he had a good scare--he never did--never did hunt no more on Sunday. Sure did. An' he never did hunt no more on Sunday. That showed he uz wrong, wasn't it? Sheffield: Must have: Mrs. White: Uh his uncle--uh he uh-- uz out a-huntin' an they was a squirrel up in the tree, an' they was an of man thar an' that's true--an' he said that this of man tol' him he couldn't kill that squirrel, an' said he tol' him-- he didn't say nothin'--said he jus' took a dime out of his pocket an' you know them's of muzzle-load shotguns then, they had to load 'em with powder or somethin' n'other, you know way that was--I don't know. But they loaded them with somethin' you know. An' said he--he just got a dime out a his pocket an' took his knife an' whittled off some a that dime in that uh--whar you load it, you know, an' he shot that squirrel, an hit uh--killed hit. But when he done that, that of man just grabbed his head. An' said that--that they took him home then, an' he went an' set up with him that night an' he died. He must a been a witchcraft or somethin'--don't you imagine? Sheffield: Hmm. Yes. He must've been. Mrs. White: Guess he was by that. They say that when they bewitch anythin' that a.-hay that uh silver will--put it in the load uh whatever you shoot, you know whatever that--wherever you load it. That--that would uh kill anythin'-- that silver will. Sheffield: Do you know any more stories about witches? Have you heard any more about witches around here= Mrs. White: Well. I don't know 'bout uh uh--yeah. His brother one time he's comin'-- they's all comin' from church, him an' his sisters, an' so his brother uh-- they's comin' along an' says they uz a little nekkid baby come out an' it's not--it uz right around up here--just not far from here where it was at. An' said they uz comin' along an' said that there's little baby just jumped out in the road. An' said it was nekkid an' said it just run. An' that--one a his brothers took after it, an' he went on, you know, that uh-- that that little thang it jumped over a log an' they never did find it. They don't know what it was, you know, they thought, course that's what it was--somethin' that a-way, you know. An' I don't know--let me see. Let me think. Not Transcribed. Not Transcribed. Mrs. White: They had wagons, an' they'd take 'em fer--maybe they'd go to Cleveland, an' places like that an'--an' they was kinda a campground up thar. An' they'd uh stop thar you k, ow, to spend thenight, ant camp thar, an' they'd hear thangs. An' uh--an' there's a--some a them tol' -'em not to never cut no wood thar. Not to never cut any wood a-tall that--that the land uz somebody's that'd died, I reckon., or so,~rethin' n'other. But he said that they'd saw a lot a things thar. I don't know just how it was. But they'd always git scared thar, you know. An' they didn't--an' then right out from thar was a church house. An' they said that uh--that they uh ud pass thax--lotta times they git in sight--course they all walked at that time, you know, an' si-id tha.t,why, I believe--it uz our uncle an' him, an' somebody else was walkin' along thar one night, an' said that church house was as lit up--completely. An' that thar is just right up here not very far. An' uh, then, when they'd git past it, why, er git to it, why, they'd be a man come up thar with no head on. An' they run theirseif to death. They did! They just run theirself to death. Course, it didn't foller 'em, but they'd run--that's the way it was. They said that--they told that fer the truth. An' they always said that--my aint she was uh--they's a-walkin'--her an' her daughter was a-walkin' an' goin' somewheres, an' they decided uh--one day they had their lunch with 'em, an' they'd go in that church-- said they'd thought they'd go in that church, you know, an' eat their lunch before they went on. An' said they got in thar, said the sun was shinin' as bright as it could be--now she tol' this as the truth--she's a good of woman--an' she said that uh that they went in thar an' just set down on the bench t'ea.t their lunch, an' said thar come the awfullest storm--jus' like it was goin' to blow that church away an' ever'thing. An' it jus'--it scared 'em, you know, an' they knowed the sun was shinin' when they went in thar, an' they said that they got out an' the sun was still shinin'--wind wasn't blowin' a bit. Sheffield: And they just heard this storm while they were insider' Mrs. White: Yes, it was at the windows, just a-blowin' ever' thing around. Hit was while they uz in thar. An' that uz all she said when they come out, why, that was it--she didn't know why, but they always claimed that church was haunted, you know. Not Transcribed. Mrs. White: Now, back when I's a child, they had square-dances, you know, Well, they did, they had corn shuckin' parties, too, you know, an' they'd all shuck 'til they'd git to that--they always had a bottle in that. One got to the bottle first--got t'--got it, you know. That's the way they used to do. An' they--an' they had square dances, an' they'd--well now here's all this through fun--it wasn't--it wasn't undecent, nothin' wasn't you know. But they'd just go an'--I had a uncle that uh uncle that picked the banjer an' a uncle that played the fiddle. An' they'd uh just have the best time, you know, an' they'd roast potatoes an' go git corn an'--an' cook it, you know--they'd--I don't know how they'd roasted it someway or n'other too, you know--corn--roastin' ears, you know, they called 'em. They'd fix that you know, too. Well, they just had a good time, you know--that uz all. Not Transcribed. Mrs. White: But there wasn't as many of 'em--as many people at that time. Why, Copper Basin, when I was a girl, well my uncle was one uh--come here from--yeah, my uncle--my daddy's--my daddy's uncle--my great uncle he's the one that come to here an' this used to be called McKaysville, all of it was, because he uz a McKay. An' he owned ever'thing here. An' he fixed--helped build this railroad through here. Not Transcribed. Mrs. White: Elijah uh he went to Hezeki'--God tol' him to go to Hezeki' an' tell him that--that he was goin' a die you know. Well, he uh--he turned his face to the wall an' prayed an' God spared his life fifteen yars. An' they took uh a fig an' made a poultice an' put on the boils, an' that cured 'im. They used t'do that, you know fer boils, they--in that day an' time they used uh uh figs to make poultices to cure boils, I guess we would today iffen we had 'ern. Don't you guess? Sheffield: If we knew how to use it. Mrs. White: Yeah. They just made poultices--somethin' like that an' put on that boil, you know. Sheffield: And people used to do that, and they learned it from the Bible' Mrs. White: Well, I guess they did. They learned it--that's what the Lord had tol' them to do, you know, I reckon he tol' 'em to do that, you know. Not Transcribed. ,Mrs. White: My mother said that you'd have a--be born with a veil over your face before you could see thangs like that. Sheffield: Did you ever know anyone who was born with a veil? Mrs. White: Uh, she was. Sheffield: Your mother was? Mrs. White: Yeah, or she couldn't a saw these thangs you know. Ah, she was always aseein' somethin'. Sheffield: Really? Mrs. White: Yeah, she was, but I cain't remember what-all she tol' me, you know, she did see. But uh she uz always seein' thangs she said. But I cain't remember the thangs she told me. Not Transcribed. Mrs. White: An' thar used to be a place back over here in the country uz called Jeffrey's Hell. An' I don't know whether it's thataway now, or not, but hit uz called Jeffrey's Hell there uz a man went in that uh laurel swamp an' he never did come out. Nobody never knowedwhat went with 'im, a course it's been some kind a beast that's uh eat 'im up, you know. An' they jus' called that Jeffrey's Hell after that. I don't know--I guess it's been cleared up now, don't you? You don't hear tell a nothin' like that no more. Thar used to be a lot a thangs that way, but, happened, but. . . . Rev. White: Say you-all's from Atlanter?
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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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