David Dollar Black and White Portrait

Podcast

Memories Podcast

Katheryne Dollar, director of the Retired Senior Volunteer Program in association with the Natchitoches Area Action Association arranged interviews with senior citizens around the parish. The interviews were conducted between 1971 and 1974 by David Dollar. Recordings were originally aired on KNOC Radio.

Tags: natchitoches, oral histories, oral history

Episodes

84. Paul Washington

Transcript

Jim Collie: This is the Memories program. I'm Jim Collie. Mr. Washington, welcome to the Memory show.

Paul Washington Jr.: Thank you.

Jim Collie: Glad to have you here.

Paul Washington Jr.: Yes, sir.

Jim Collie: You were telling me just a few minutes ago that you grew up around here.

Paul Washington Jr.: Yes, sir, I did.

Jim Collie: How long ago were you born?

Paul Washington Jr.: Around 1903.

Jim Collie: 1903. You've been around here a long time then.

Paul Washington Jr.: Five?

Jim Collie: 1905.

Paul Washington Jr.: 1905, 1905.

Jim Collie: Well, that's still a long time.

Paul Washington Jr.: That's a long time.

Jim Collie: Were you born here in Natchitoches?

Paul Washington Jr.: Yes, sir, born right down there on Cane River, down there in the Future, about six miles out of Natchitoches. And I stayed down there from one place to another on that place and I raised all my kids down there.

Jim Collie: Now that was a plantation down there.

Paul Washington Jr.: Yes. That's right.

Jim Collie: Who owned that?

Paul Washington Jr.: Ms. Future, she owned that plantation and Mama and them always did work for them you know.

Jim Collie: What do you remember about growing up on the plantation?

Paul Washington Jr.: Oh, I remember a whole lot of stuff. There was a lot of hard work when I got so I could work. There was a lot of hard work for you to do. But we got along very good, only sometimes the Panic would hit us, you know, and we had it kind of rough when the Panic was on, you know.

Jim Collie: Now is that the Depression that you're talking about?

Paul Washington Jr.: Yeah, that's the Depression.

Jim Collie: And you called it the Panic because nobody knew what they could do.

Paul Washington Jr.: No, well, the man we was living with then, he'd always provide pretty good living for us, whilst we ... and I started to working. I started with my grandmother. She took me in and I went to work for her, making crop for her. I was small, you know.

Jim Collie: What did you do for her?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, I plowed for her and made a crop and I started off that way when I didn't-

Jim Collie: So you started off pretty hard.

Paul Washington Jr.: Pretty hard, I started off. I come pretty rough. I'll tell you that.

Jim Collie: Did you plow behind an old mule?

Paul Washington Jr.: Yes sir, I did. That's all I plowed behind, an old mule. Well, you take up us boys. My daddy didn't do nothing but farm. He didn't know nothing else, I don't believe. And well, there's one hard part of it that I didn't ... well, I didn't like it, but I had to take it. We couldn't go to school. We had to go in the field and it never did ... it wasn't but three months school, and we couldn't get that. And that's the only thing [inaudible 00:02:51] me because I had the knowledge, but I couldn't get no schooling.

Jim Collie: You just couldn't get into that school and get what you needed.

Paul Washington Jr.: I couldn't. I needed schooling, but I couldn't get it.

Jim Collie: Learning to read and write was pretty important.

Paul Washington Jr.: Pretty important, that's right, pretty important. And I hate it until today. But I can't do nothing about it. But I'll tell you, we had 12 of us children. We had eight girls and four boys, and all of us, I raised them all.

Jim Collie: You were the oldest.

Paul Washington Jr.: I'm the oldest one out of 12 [inaudible 00:03:30].

Jim Collie: Boy.

Paul Washington Jr.: And I had it pretty tough, the decisions.

Jim Collie: I imagine raising eight girls was a pretty hard kind of thing.

Paul Washington Jr.: We had to scuffle. And I remember a long time ago back then in 1917, '18 where we were little boys. We had to get up [inaudible 00:03:55] in the morning and go pull grass for the hogs and the cow. And dad had a little old colt there and he wanted us to go pull that grass in the morning and keep it there for that colt. And so we'd get up in the morning, and we're there in old snaky country down there. And man, we'd get them old big snake crawling through the grass. We just was lucky we didn't got snake-bit, you know. But we didn't. But we had to scuffle in the fields. It was hard. It was hard living on us then. And I never got no let up on that until I got grown and married off and started my own business and then I've done pretty fair.

Jim Collie: What kind of business did you start?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, I didn't got nothing but farming. That's all I'd done. And I know that all right.

Jim Collie: I used to hear about the big floods of the Red River. Did you ever go through a big flood on the Red?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, I didn't live on the Red, but I remember my [inaudible 00:05:10] back there. We were living up on Cane River. Of course I know when Red, I mean, when Cane River was up to the top of the bank, the Red River was right up there, just right up there splashing in the road.

Jim Collie: Do you remember when that was?

Paul Washington Jr.: No, I can't remember what year that was.

Jim Collie: You were still a child though.

Paul Washington Jr.: I was a little boy. But outside of when we were small, we [inaudible 00:05:40] the man we was living with there on the place, he would get us to mind his hogs on the alfalfa field until, well, Sunday night. And then we'd come in. He gave us [inaudible 00:05:58]. Something like that. But you couldn't get no money. We'd just get a nickel or picking cotton time was only time we could get a nickel.

Jim Collie: How did that work? Were you paid by the 100 pound?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, they'd pay you by the 100 pound but it wasn't but it wasn’t but forty cents a 100. And you couldn't make very much off it.

Jim Collie: How much could you pick in the day?

Paul Washington Jr.: Oh, well, I got to where I could pick 100.

Jim Collie: And that was a long, hard day.

Paul Washington Jr.: Long, [inaudible 00:06:29] rough. And I'd pick 100, but my dad would take it all from us for the nickel. And that's enough to give to [inaudible 00:06:39]. Well, that's what we lived on. They'd have an old Long Johnny Crook.

Jim Collie: Now, wait a minute, tell me what a Long Johnny Crook is.

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, that's a big old candy made out of, looked like made out of syrup. You could twist it like that and stretch it. And man it was good, too. It was good.

Jim Collie: Made out of some kind of cane syrup.

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, I imagine so, but it was sweet, sweet, but was ... you couldn't buy one of them today for a dollar, I know. And so that's what we, we'd labor the day [inaudible 00:07:15] to get one of them. And my dad and them, they didn't do nothing. My dad never did [inaudible 00:07:22]. And when Monday morning come he going ... when you get up in the morning, he'd been up and he going to get ... picking cotton. He in the field, and you're going to do that work around that house and then you going to come to the field too, pick cotton.

Jim Collie: Everybody worked.

Paul Washington Jr.: Everybody worked. You couldn't stay around here [inaudible 00:07:47] and you had to work. Mother was ... stayed sickly. My mother stayed sickly you know. She couldn't do very much in the fields. But we big enough, we stayed with him and picked cotton, [inaudible 00:08:06]. So I know the time when it got so cold until the icicles would be hanging, I reckon, 10 foots on the tree. And they'd get so big that they'd break the limb down. We were staying pretty close to the woods. Well, I'd say about a half a mile from the woods. But you could hear the limbs breaking and after the cold was over, you could go back there to get a load of wood. You didn't have to cut no wood. There's enough already done broke down out there.

Jim Collie: That cold wasn't any good but that ice storm helped you bring the limbs out of the trees.

Paul Washington Jr.: Broke them down. It got so heavy on the limbs, they had to come down.

Jim Collie: And that's when you were a boy, growing up down in North Cane River.

Paul Washington Jr.: Yes, sir. That's right [inaudible 00:09:00].

Jim Collie: Mr. Washington, we'll be right back after this word from People's Bank and Trust, who sponsor this show. This is the Memory show, and we're visiting this morning with Mr. Paul Washington Jr, in his home here in Natchitoches. Mr. Washington, you told me you grew up as a farmer and spent most of your life farming.

Paul Washington Jr.: I did.

Jim Collie: I'll bet you had some things you had to build around there that farmers don't build now. We were talking just a few moments ago about a mud chimney.

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, I didn't build nothing, but I see them build them. They'd get out there in the yard and they'd dig a round pool or hole in the ground. And they'd have to go in the woods and get moss and they'd bring that moss and they would throw that moss in there and they'd throw some dirt in there and they'd roll that moss around in there until they get it all just full of mud. Well, they'd call them “cats”, and there'd be a fellow putting that mud ... they had sticks across there, you know, to wrap that stuff on until they get it out level and then smooth it off with mud, you see? And they done that with mostly clay dirt, you know, mostly just old heavy clay dirt, you know.

They'd build that chimney with that moss all the way up to the top, make it just like they do these brick chimneys, but instead they used wood for to hold the stuff on. And they done very good. They used to keep us warm. We stayed in the house right were they were. And every once in a while though, they'd catch a fire. They'd catch a fire. You had to knock it down or something to ...

Jim Collie: And that'd be pretty dangerous.

Paul Washington Jr.: Pretty dangerous.

Jim Collie: What other kind of things did you make, do you remember?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, I never did make nothing outside of ... well, we'd make all kinds of ... old wagons. We'd go over and if we could get somebody to saw them for us, we'd get somebody to saw some wheels out of some sort of timber, you know. And we'd bore a hole in it, take a red hot iron and we'd bore us a hole in all of them. And we'd put us an old wagon on there and that's what we would play with, you know. But I tell you, we used to make these old Tom Walkers.

Jim Collie: Now, what's that?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, that's a tall outfit, long, tall stick.

Jim Collie: About five feet tall?

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, it had to be a little higher than that, five, six, around six or seven feet high. And you take your two by four, well, if you could find it, and make you a block, cut you some blocks, you know, put them, nail them inside, just nail them just to the back side. And then you take your strap and you fasten them back over here on the end and then you nail them back to the staff. And then your feet just be in there just like it do in the saddle stirrup, you see? And then you're ready to ride. You could walk all the way [inaudible 00:12:37] just walk mud holes, [inaudible 00:12:40] the nearby [inaudible 00:12:42] place. Bad roads, you know.

Jim Collie: Now, I'll call those stilts. And you're calling them Tom Walkers.

Paul Washington Jr.: Tom Walkers, Tom Walkers.

Jim Collie: Tom Walkers.

Paul Washington Jr.: That's what we used to call Tom Walkers.

Jim Collie: Those are pretty good things to have.

Paul Washington Jr.: Well, they was all right. Only, they'd broke and throwed us in the mud a many time and we got whipped to death by them. [inaudible 00:13:03] in a hole, wet, and muddy. They'd broke sometimes. You know, if you didn't nail them good, they'd break down on you.

Jim Collie: And boy if you got muddy, mama doesn't like it, did she.

Paul Washington Jr.: You'll get a whipping that'll tear you up, I'm telling you.

Jim Collie: Mr. Washington, I'm sorry that our time is almost over with. But we've enjoyed visiting with you this morning.

Paul Washington Jr.: Thank you. Thank you, sir.

Jim Collie: It's important for us to know about your memories because those are times we don't know about.

Paul Washington Jr.: Oh, no, you couldn't remember them time, not at your age.

Jim Collie: That's right.

Paul Washington Jr.: And at my age, going way back, there's a lot of stuff back there I had done and had seen. Yes, sir.

Jim Collie: Well, we thank you very much, and on behalf of People's Bank, we wish you a good day.

Paul Washington Jr.: Thank you.

Jim Collie interviews Paul Washington about growing up on Cane River as the oldest of 12 children, farming and picking cotton.

83. Parthenia Delenious Morris

Transcript

Hubert Laster: This morning, we're visiting with Mrs. Parthenia Delenious Morris. And she's visited with us once before in the Memories program, and she was just so wonderful, we had to ask her back again. She's going to tell us about her father, first off.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, my father joined the Confederate army when he was about 17 years of age. And he helped to dig those old trenches over there at Grand Ecore. And they were stationed there until the Northern soldiers run them out later on. And it was pretty hard on them while they were there. They said they would go into people's cornfield there at night, and get corn, and put it in the ashes, to eat, because for several days they wouldn't have any food. So, he went on through the war and he was in the battle there in Mansfield, but he never got injured in any way.

And then he was a schoolteacher after he'd come out of the army. Well, him and my mother got married, and he began teaching school. They didn't have any public schools then, so he taught private school, and they would pay so much a pupil. So finally, his family got so large that he didn't make enough out of it to teach school. He got down to working first one thing, or another.

He farmed, and he farmed mostly with ox teams. Had the oxen that he drove to his wagon and also plowed them some. And he had a little shingle mill, he sold shingles, probably there's some of the shingles on the old buildings there up and down Cane River now. Some of them were shipped to New Orleans, and different places and he got out shingles by the hand.

And then he got into a little sawmill. He sawed them over there a while, just a small mill. And he ran a gin and grist mill. And this grist mill and gin that he run was about the last work that he did outside of the home. Of course, he farmed on as long he was able. He died at the age of 75.

Hubert Laster: That's pretty far. Well, that's a long time he lived, wasn't it?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Yes, it was. He'd done lots of work during that time too, different kind.

Hubert Laster: Did your father, was he ... Did he teach you at first?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: No, my two older brothers and sisters went to school with him. My schooling, I only got three months in the year of public school. No? Yes. No, it was private schools then, not public school.

And there was a man, George Coverdale, he came from London, England, over here, and he taught school here in Provencal a year or two, and then he came out to Vowells Mill. But anyway, he went to turn up to a teacher's meeting over at Natchitoches, and he said that they asked questions over there that his little ten-year-old children could answer. So, when they got through, he asked them, he said, "May I ask you some questions?" And they told him yes. He said they couldn't answer a question he asked them. He told them, he said, "No need for me to come here for you, I know more than you do." So, he couldn't get a public school from then on, he had to teach a private school.

Well, he came to Vowells Mill, and he got about 85 pupils there, for a dollar a month, and he taught an eight-month school. And then he taught another six-month school there. That was the biggest schooling that I got.

And then the 4L Lumber Company, Victoria Lumber Company at that time, hired him to do the scaling for them. And they sent him to Orange, Texas to do some work there, so that ended his teaching school around. And then he was transferred from there to Monroe, Louisiana, where he died.

Hubert Laster: You kept up with him all this time?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Yes. We knew about him all this while. Every once in a while, he'd come back and visit us. And his second-oldest son, he was sheriff there in Monroe for a number of years until he retired.

Hubert Laster: All right. They used to spell differently when they were teaching it than they do now.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Yes. We had to spell pronounced by syllable.

Hubert Laster: Spell punctuality for me.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: P-U-N-C-T, punct U, punctu, A-L-L, puntual, I, punctuali, T-Y, punctuality.

Hubert Laster: That's amazing. That is amazing. What kind of social things did you do just for fun?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, we had lots of dances. And we'd get together and we had picnics, and we had fishing parties, and we'd all ... There was a good many in the community and we'd have big dinners, at first one place, then another.

And when they'd have these dances, we danced all night. Sometime went to dancing before dark and danced till daylight. About midnight, they'll serve cake and coffee, and they danced on. We had two n***** men, they were the descendants of my grandfather Holt's slaves, and they played our music. They had two violins, and one played the lead, and the other one seconded, and they made music, and they'd play all night. Every once in a while, they'd take up a collection for them. They'd work all day for a dollar and a quarter a day, and then they'd get $4 or $5 for playing at night, the boys would pay them pretty well, so they'd play all night for them.

Hubert Laster: Well, after everybody danced all night long, what did they do just sleep the next day?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: No, we didn't, we went to work, like no different. We got in at 4:00 or 5:00. Dad would say, "Girls, go on, go on, go over, fix breakfast, and get ready to go to field." See, there was just four boys in the family that lived, and there was nine girls that lived, kept growing. And so us girls, we had to make field hands, and we all learned how to go to field. We learned things around the house, how to cook, sew, milk, churn, and then-

Hubert Laster: Just learned how to work, huh?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Learned how to work, that was it.

Hubert Laster: Well, it's a lot different now. We need to take a break right now, and we will be back in just a moment, after a word from our sponsor. This is Hubert Laster, and we're visiting with Mrs. E.W Morris. And she was talking about the things that she used to do when she was a girl, dancing, and what else?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, we'd get together and we'd have peanut parches, popcorn, popping corn. And then they'd make molasses candy, and they'd choose partners, and they began with this candy, just have it cooked hard enough it would pull good. And they'd get bigger and bigger rolls of it, they'd get rolls as large as your arm, and it'd take two to pull it, a boy on one side, and the girl on the other. And they'd pull out, and they'd double it back, and they'd pull out, and they'd double back, and all that way, and pull it till it was real white. And then they'd put it around in a greased dish. And then it would get hard, well, they'd cut it and eat it. It was real good.

Hubert Laster: That's taffy.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Taffy, yes.

Hubert Laster: How do you make taffy?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, we just boil syrup. We boil it down to where it would make a candy. Wouldn't put a thing in it. And it was really good. We'd sometimes put peanuts in it and have peanut candy. And then we had our popcorn. And we all enjoyed that.

And we'd play different plays, and we'd sing songs. And when any of us get together, there was always somebody around with a violin, or a harp, or something other, and we'd get in a few sets of dancing.

Hubert Laster: It just sounds like a wonderful time. I'd like to do that myself. We were talking about, a little bit before, about candle making. How do you candle make?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, mother had a candle ... I don't know what you'd call it, but anyway, it was a thing she could make eight candles. And she had a cord that she'd run, that she twisted this cord herself on this old spinning wheel, she-

Hubert Laster: Is this cotton cord?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Uh-huh. Cotton cord. And she'd run it through, and she'd have a nut down here at the bottom where it would pull through, and she'd pull it up here. She'd mount her tallow, made them mount of tallow, beef tallow, and pour it down through there, and she'd fill that one up. It was about as large as my thumb. She'd fill that one up, and she'd fill up all eight of them. And she'd let them set till they got hard, then she'd pour ... They all had little candle holders, little cans, little plates, about like that, with a handle on it.

Hubert Laster: Yes, ma'am.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: And she'd pour melted tallow in that, and she'd set this candle down in that, and let that harden. So, then it would stand up and-

Hubert Laster: Beef tallow.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Beef tallow.

Hubert Laster: What is tallow?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, I'll tell you when they kill beef, you know the fat on it?

Hubert Laster: Uh-huh.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Take it, and cook it out, and that's the tallow. You don't put no salt or anything in it, just-

Hubert Laster: It's just grease?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: No, it makes a hard tallow. It's not grease, it's hard. That's what we used to have to put on, we didn't have no cream, nothing like that for our hands, we would use tallow, and it made your hands soft.

Hubert Laster: Better than Vaseline.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Oh, I'll say. We didn't know what Vaseline was.

Hubert Laster: What is log rolling?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, it'd take about eight men to a log. They'd saw the log about eight feet long, and there was pretty good-sized trees. Timber wasn't worth anything at that day, and people cleaned up a new ground, they'd just cut the timber and burned it.

So, they would cut these trees up, trim the limbs off, and they'd give a log rolling then. And about eight or ten men would come in, and they'd take eight men to a log. And they had their sticks raised, made for that purpose, and they was made out of tough lumber, mostly I think hickory. And they had the handles smooth, and they had a band on the handle that you'd put on your arm so you wouldn't wrench your wrist.

And they'd put them poles under them logs, and a man would get on each end of them poles, and they'd tote them logs to a pile, and pile them up, to up about six feet high, as high up as they can reach to roll them up. And then they'd start in, and they'd start in with about four or five logs down at the bottom, and of course they'd come up putting the log in between on top. And up at the top, there'd just be one log up there. And then, along through that, they'd put ridge pine. And then, they'd leave it onto here, they held them on poles, so they'd put fire in onto there, and then pour coal oil over that. And then they'd put, some time they used a little gunpowder to get their stuff started with, not enough to blow up.

Hubert Laster: Just to get started.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: And they'd burn them logs. So clean up that ground, and that was a new ground, they'd just streak it off then, and plant corn in it the first year. And it didn't take too much work, all you had to do is just cut a few ... Keep your weeds cut out of it. You couldn't do much plowing in it, but it did make good corn.

And it'd be several years before they'd get the roots out of it, because they didn't have the plows they have nowadays to tear roots out like they do. So, they just had to kind of rot out. They'd pull a few out first, one way and another, and chop them loose and get them out. It'd be about three years before they'd put cotton there.

Hubert Laster: I see. Well, it's just about our time, but I'd like to ask you, what did they use for power for your gin mill, to grind up your corn?

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Well, when I was a child, we first started in, there was a man that Vowells Mill was named after, Vowells Mill post office leader, and he had a water mill there. There was a stream of water flowing continually, and you'd take big ... Like they used for the floor, and in the houses I was telling you about, only thicker, they was more like crossties, and they're something like nine or ten feet long.

They'd dig out a big pond in this water that was running, and they'd drive this punching down, and they'd make a big pond there. And then they had the mill house built across that stream of water and they had it boarded up on the side with this plank. And then they had it where you could raise that plank, the water would get up so high, and they could raise them plank up. They had them in two sections, and there's one section was stationary down here, it didn't raise up. But you'd raise this up, and let the water through, and that turned the wheels on the mill, that ground the corn, and gin the cotton, and also pressed the cotton with it.

Hubert Laster: All by one power source.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: All by waterpower.

Hubert Laster: We have the answer to the energy problem, water.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Yes, that's right.

Hubert Laster: We've enjoyed visiting with you, and I really hope to see you again. You're a beautiful lady.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: Thank you. I have really enjoyed this talk.

Hubert Laster: See you later.

Parthenia Delenious Morris: I hope you will.

Hubert Laster: This is Hubert Laster wishing all of you a very pleasant day.

Hubert Laster interviews Parthenia Delenious Morris about growing up in Natchitoches Parish, schooling, and going to dances.

82. Ollie Bates

Transcript

David Dollar: Good morning, this is David Dollar. We're glad you've joined us for Memories this morning. We're going to visit with Mrs. Ollie Bates of Natchitoches, and we'll start our program right after this message from Peoples Bank, our sponsor.

Hello again, in case you're just joining our program this morning, we're visiting on Memories with Mrs. Ollie Bates of Natchitoches. Ms. Bates, why don't you start things off this morning by telling us just a little bit about yourself, where you were born, and some of your family stuff and all.

Ollie Bates: Well, I was born in Winn Parish, but my parents died when I was young, and so one of my sisters take me and brought me up to Red River Parish, Coushatta, and she raised me. And I had a good home up there, and everything was just fine and lovely.

David Dollar: What were some of the things that you did as a little girl around Coushatta?

Ollie Bates: Oh, I helped take care of the chickens, and ducks, and turkeys, and every evening I'd have to go out and feed them. An, oh, they'd just swarm around you. We had to have that feed ready every evening for them because that's the time they fed them.

David Dollar: How old were you when you were doing these kind of things?

Ollie Bates: Well, I was about nine years old.

David Dollar: Was that pretty big responsibilities for a little girl then, or were you very much expected to do things?

Ollie Bates: No, I think I was born with the responsibility and knew how to handle it.

David Dollar: Just kind of had to do it, huh?

Ollie Bates: Yeah.

David Dollar: We were talking a little bit earlier and you mentioned some things about being around Hannah there and right on Red River, some of the things that went on.

Ollie Bates: Yeah, and the Steamboat used to come by and pick up the cotton, and they'd just come all the time of the night or day anytime, but way up the river they would be blowing the whistle, and people would know to get out there at the landing to get the grocers. They had whiskey, and corn, and-

David Dollar: Where, the steamboat was coming from what, like north from Shreveport?

Ollie Bates: It was coming from Shreveport, and they had a freight, and they would unload that. The crew, they had a big old gang plank they'd put out from the boat up on the bank, and they'd song and sang along, roll that stuff up there, and then just carry them bales or cotton back down like it was nothing-

David Dollar: My goodness.

Ollie Bates: -and stack them up. And sometimes they looked like they'd have about 100 bales on. And I'd love to meet it down there, but I never did go on the boat, I was afraid to, and I don't know why, I wish now that I had.

David Dollar: I guess so. What you were just talking about made me remember things like reading Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn about the big river boats and the lake on the rivers.

Ollie Bates: Yes.

David Dollar: The river boats would take the groceries off and then take the cotton from the farmers around there, take it down what I guess to-

Ollie Bates: Down to New Orleans.

David Dollar: Down to New Orleans and send it out West.

Ollie Bates: They'd take it down there. And there'd be a lot of stops along. They had to up to Coushatta and then they'd come on down. This is where that Hanna wasn't very far, but the river has changed so much now. The river's on the other side.

David Dollar: That's right, it's eaten all the land.

Ollie Bates: Yeah, it's taking on the land. And then it'd go on down and the Grand Ecore would stop down here the same way and on down to Alexandria. And every place like that. And plantations that had cotton for sale, they would have a landing and they wouldn't have to be at a town. This wasn't no town there where I lived, it was just a plantation. And they had a landing there and got the groceries and shipped the cotton from there.

David Dollar: It sounds like the river there was a pretty important to their way of life then, both as transportation and-

Ollie Bates: Yes, there wasn't no trains to there, then.

David Dollar: All they had was the river.

Ollie Bates: That's all they had was the river.

David Dollar: To get the grocers and to send the cotton out.

Ollie Bates: And send the cotton out, that's right.

David Dollar: I'll be. That's really something.

Ollie Bates: Yeah, they had the gin, but they didn't have no way to, wasn't no trucks in them days, and there wasn't no railroad there.

David Dollar: Yeah. We were talking too, you mentioned something about your husband also grew up there in town with you?

Ollie Bates: Yes.

David Dollar: What were we talking about there? You said he worked on one of these plantations?

Ollie Bates: Yes, he worked on the plantation with my brother-in-law. And of course I think he was a fine man, and he did too. And he always met the boat for him. And I'd be there too after I got older, old enough to go down there.

David Dollar: So he had some responsibility around the plantation too.

Ollie Bates: Yeah. And they tried to get me to go on the boat though, several people did, but I was afraid to go on there, but I'm sorry now that I didn't go on that because I'd have that to think about.

David Dollar: Well, I'll tell you, let me interrupt you just this one second. We need to take a little commercial break right here. We'll be right back after this message from Peoples Bank, our sponsor.

Hello once again. In case you're just joining us, this is David Dollar on Memories. This morning we're visiting with Mrs. Ollie Bates. Ms. Bates, we were talking about life right around Coushatta and Hanna, and you were telling us about the riverboats. About what time was this, what year were you growing up around there?

Ollie Bates: Well, I was growing up there in 1903, and I lived there until I moved down here in 1937. My husband had passed away. We had our home up there, but whenever he passed away, I decided I better come down here where I could send my children to college and school.

David Dollar: I see.

Ollie Bates: And I met all the fine folks down here and they're wonderful. And, I like living here and the community is so good.

David Dollar: Did you have any relatives here or friends at the time in Natchitoches?

Ollie Bates: Well, yes I had a sister-in-law here, Mrs. Wilson. Mrs. Bates Wilson.

David Dollar: But it was mainly the school that influenced you to move here.

Ollie Bates: Yeah, that was it mainly.

David Dollar: How many children did you have and what did they do? Did they go on to school like you wanted them to?

Ollie Bates: Well, I had one married son, and then one son was working in the oil field. And then I had three daughters and two more sons that come down here with me. Well, my daughter, oldest daughter, well, she married pretty soon after I got here, and so I sent the other children to school. But my youngest son, he didn't want to go to school, so he left home and he went back up there with one of our friends. And then he got after me, he wanted to go in the Army, and I had to sign for him. At first I would not sign for him, but then I decided I thought it over and I said, "Well, I'll know where he is at."

David Dollar: That's true.

Ollie Bates: Yeah.

David Dollar: At least you knew where he was.

Ollie Bates: And he stayed in 20 years, and he retired on a pension. And so he done good after all.

David Dollar: It worked out fine.

Ollie Bates: But he finished high school in the Army.

David Dollar: That's good.

Ollie Bates: And then the other son, Charles Bates, well he's a minister of the Gospel now, if you didn't know it. He was ordained last summer sometime. And he's preaching out at this little mission church on Wind West, out that Black Lake.

David Dollar: I know where that is.

Ollie Bates: Yeah.

David Dollar: I sure do.

Ollie Bates: And one of my daughters married a Lavishpen, and one of them married a Dykes, so that ended me. The oldest, second-oldest boy, he's still here with me. I never could marry him off.

David Dollar: So he stayed around here?

Ollie Bates: Yeah, he just stays around here.

David Dollar: Taking care of home and mama, huh?

Ollie Bates: Yeah, I've been taking care of him, but he's got to take care of me from now on.

David Dollar: Let me ask you one thing, Ms. Bates, and this is kind of a personal privilege question. You said you were born in 1892?

Ollie Bates: Yes, sir.

David Dollar: And here we are in 1976. Is there any one or maybe a couple of things you can think of that stand out in your mind as the biggest change you can imagine? Would it be in transportation or-

Ollie Bates: Oh, yeah.

David Dollar: -the airplane, or would it be in television?

Ollie Bates: Yeah. Yeah.

David Dollar: You've lived over such a great span of time, I just wonder. It must be-

Ollie Bates: Yeah, we got news in by the grapevine. We didn't get so much news and if it was bad, we didn't know anything about it.

David Dollar: That's right.

Ollie Bates: But I'll tell you one thing that happened, though, when I was a young girl. They made me real proud. My brother-in-law went to Coushatta, was at Coushatta, and he bought me a pair of shoes with brass toes on them. And I thought that was the wonderfullest thing, I was the only one had any. And I strutted around like a peacock with those shoes on.

David Dollar: They were made out of brass on the toes?

Ollie Bates: They were made out of leather. You've heard of this old course, they called them Brogan. Well, it was something sort of like that with just that brass on the toe.

David Dollar: The toe was brass.

Ollie Bates: Yeah, so you couldn't kick them out.

David Dollar: Scuff them all up, huh?

Ollie Bates: Afraid he thought I was going out kicking.

David Dollar: My goodness, I've never heard of anything like that.

Ollie Bates: Well, that's the only pair that I ever saw. None of the other girls never did get any.

David Dollar: Well I'll be. I think I'd like to see a pair of those. You don't happen to have them around still, do you?

Ollie Bates: No, I don't have nothing around. I'm the only antique thing of the family that's left.

David Dollar: My goodness. Well, I tell you what, Ms. Bates, our time is just about up. We like to try to close our program with a closing memory every time. And I wonder if there is anything in particular that you would like to close the program with?

Ollie Bates: Yes sir, there's one particular memory. It was the day that I married.

David Dollar: Okay.

Ollie Bates: It was the day I married. It was the 31st of January. Bright, cold, sunshiny day. And my brother-in-law, he fixed the room and we were married in there, and all the neighborhood was there. I had a nice wedding. That's one thing that's-

David Dollar: Well, I think that is a fitting memory and a fine one.

Ollie Bates: That's a good memory.

David Dollar: We thank you for sharing it with us and for the others you did. This has been David Dollar visiting with Mrs. Ollie Bates on Memories. If any of you folks listening at home have memories you'd like to share, we'd like to have you on the program, and we'd like for you to get in touch with either me, and you can reach me through KNOC, or you can call the Retired Senior Volunteer Program Office, and their number is 352-8647. We'd like to thank you for listening this morning. David Dollar visiting with Mrs. Ollie Bates. Join us again. Tell the folks at Peoples Bank thanks from me and from you for bringing us this program, and we'll see you next time. Thank you for joining us.

David Dollar interviews Ollie Bates about watching the river boats, growing up in Coushatta, her husband’s work on a plantation, moving to Natchitoches, her children, and memories of her wedding.

81. Nodee Scarborough pt. 2

Transcript

Jim Colley: Good morning. This is Jim Colley and this is The Memories Program. This morning in just a few minutes, we'll be visiting with Mrs. Nodee Scarborough. We'll be back with you, Ms. Scarborough, right after this word from Peoples Bank and Trust, our sponsors.

Good morning again. This is Jim Colley on the Memories Program, and we're visiting with Mrs. Scarborough. Mrs. Scarborough, welcome to the Memories Program.

Nodee Scarborough: I'm glad to be on it.

Jim Colley: We're glad to have you here. You're a long-term resident of this area.

Nodee Scarborough: Oh yeah, I've been here since 1921.

Jim Colley: When were you born? Can I ask that?

Nodee Scarborough: I was born 1899. I was not quite 22 when I married in June the 30th, 1921.

Jim Colley: And so when you got married, you moved out here?

Nodee Scarborough: Yeah, I came to... Well, I'd been to school down here and I finished college down here. And I went home and then my husband came up to visit me one summer. And we just rode off in the car and decided to get married on the way. We were going with my best friend and her husband who'd been married that morning at 8:30. We were going take them to Shreveport and they were catching the train to Galveston. They were going to spend their honeymoon in Galveston, and we got started the Shreveport. My husband said, "Oh, let's go buy a home. I want to go by that way." And I said, "Oh, no, it's way out of the way. We are not going to buy that." I said, "Rob, go on. Don't go buy that." And he says, "No, we are going to get married." And I thought he was joking because we had have a first [inaudible 00:01:39].

Jim Colley: And he wasn't joking?

Nodee Scarborough: No, he wasn't joking. He went on, got a license, we got married and went on and spent our honeymoon in Shreveport with this other couple who were married at 8:30. And we had a wonderful time and we got that night about 8:30. I said, "Lonnie, we better call mama. She's going to kill me." And so we called them. Lonnie called them. No, Bob Davison. He was the man that driving the car. He called them and said, Ernest answers the telephone. And I said, "Ernest, Nodee and Lonnie are married." He said, "Married? You tell her mama's going to tear her up."

Jim Colley: I bet that came as quite a surprise to your parents.

Nodee Scarborough: Oh, it did. Mama said though, she told me and Ruby that we were the youngest girls in the family. There was 12 of us and I was the 10th and Ruby was the 12th. And so she said after my three older sisters married, they all married at home, she said, "I don't want any more daughters to be married. I just can't stand it giving up a daughter every day." I said, "Why some of you boys don't get married?"

Jim Colley: I guess marriage was a pretty big deal.

Nodee Scarborough: Oh, well, it was. Like nowadays, the girls and boys get married and they say, "Well, if I don't like it, I can get a divorce."

Jim Colley: But you never thought about that back then?

Nodee Scarborough: No, no. You didn't think about getting a divorce. You didn't even consider it. Anybody that was divorced was just a bad person. That was the way-

Jim Colley: Things may have changed for the better with that. What was it like growing up back then?

Nodee Scarborough: Well, it was a terrible thing in a way. I had the most wonderful time in my life from the time I was about 5 to 16. But when I got 16, I was so miserably shy that I didn't know what to do. My mother had always... There was an unfortunate girl in the community who had had children out of wedlock and she'd say, I'd get an argument with her and she'd say, "All right, if you want to be like so-and-so, you just go ahead." And Lord, I'd take off my clothes and put on an undershirt under my [inaudible 00:03:49] blouse. She thought it would look terrible to see the flesh. You go, oh, I'm [inaudible 00:03:56]. That's just been about 65 years ago, 60 years ago.

Jim Colley: And I bet your dress went the way, almost all the way to the floor too.

Nodee Scarborough: Oh, it did. And you didn't dare cross your legs at the knees. You could put one foot on the other, but you couldn't cross your legs at the knees. That was terrible. I came down to college here and Mr. Roy, president V.L. Roy was the president of the college. And he made us take, he'd take a tape measure and measure how long the skirts were from the floor. If they were over 14 to 15 inches, you'd have to go take it off and put on one longer.

Jim Colley: Would Mr. Roy stop you in the hall and measure your dress?

Nodee Scarborough: Yeah, we go in to let them see how we look and he'd get down on the floor and measure to see. Yeah, Mr. Roy was very, very careful about that. He was a sweet old thing, though. He wanted me to go and advertise the Red Cross, you know, during the First World War. Now this is before the first World War. And he called me in a hall, I mean in an auditorium where we had our general assembly. And I wasn't there.

Esther Heck, a girlfriend of mine who stood up said, "Mr. Roy, Ms. Goree is so sorry, but she just had some work she just had to do." And she told me, and I went to Mr. Roy and I was so scared. I knew he was going to ball me out, but he said, "Come on in and don't be so afraid. I'm not going to ball you out." But said, "Listen, if you stay after to write your penmanship lesson, everybody in the class will want to do that too."

It made me think of the little joke. A man was in the restaurant and he was dipping up in his soup and he picked up a rat and he held it up to the waiter and he says, "Look here what I found in my soup." The waiter said, "Put it down. Don't make all that noise. Everybody else in the house will be wanting that same thing."

Jim Colley: That's right. I guess you were kind of a teacher's pet with Dr. Roy.

Nodee Scarborough: Well, no. He liked me though. He knew I was just a little country girl that didn't know anything. I didn't know beans about anything.

Jim Colley: Ms. Scarborough, we're going to take a break right now for an announcement from Peoples Bank and Trust, but we'll be back with you in just a moment.

Nodee Scarborough: I know Peoples Bank and Trust Company.

Jim Colley: All right, we'll take a break for them. Welcome back to The Memories Program. We're visiting this morning with Mrs. Nodee Scarborough. Ms. Scarborough, we were talking about dates we remember. What kind of dates do you remember best of all?

Nodee Scarborough: The dates that I remember most was 1908. That was most wonderful thing that ever happened. 1908, I was eight years old. At this 1908, May of 1908, just the most wonderful things happened on our place. We had a flood that just came down from way up in the northeast, Allegheny Mountain valleys, I guess. Appalachian Mountains somewhere. Anyway, the water just overflowed two or three feet higher than the level land and just stood there for a long time. And after the water, oh we had one accident. We were all on the front porch, the front gallery. We called them galleries then, and they call them porches now. We were on the front gallery and we looked up there, just pouring down and lightning and thunder and everything. And we saw four of our big Jersey cows standing under a pine tree. And after a while, everybody was quit looking so my daddy said, "I guess those cows are getting under that tree for protection from the rain." And we looked away after a little bit and looked back and they're all four of the cows were stretched out, dead around the foot of that tree. And they went up there and the lightning had struck them. They had their heads close to the pine tree.

And another time we were on the back kitchen gallery and it was just raining, just sheets of rain. It wasn't drops. It was just sheets of rain. And there's a great big fish about I guess 8 or 10 inches long, big, I'd call it a white perch, just flopped down out there in the middle of the yard. And mama says, "Well look at that fish." And Papa says, "Well go get it." And she said, No, you don't. It might be poisoned from lightning." But anyway, after the water went down, that was a wonderful time.

Oh, another time was it hailed, just terribly big hail, big as chicken eggs. And they fell off of the house and piled up by the porch of a yard high. It was high as the porch. And I decided I'd walked down the wall of hail and I took one foot and instead, I went shooting down. Liked to of killed me. And my mother said, "Well, you don't know you can't walk down that." But anyway, they put me to bed and put a cold press on my head. I hit the back of my head on the edge of the porch when I went.

Oh, what did I start tell you about? Oh yeah, in a few days the water was all, a lot of the water was gone and the creeks were back in the banks then. And Lord, I had the best time. I'd take a great big syrup bucket, a three-pound bucket, I guess it was. No, it was an eight-pound bucket. And I went down to the creeks, and the creeks were just working alive with fish, big fish. I had this great eight-pound, a lard bucket, and I found a place where I could see a lot of fish in there. I dammed up the little stream up above and dipped the water and picked up that bucket full of fish and went home. And the boy, my brother saw me coming and they just ran out and began to yell, "Mama, come and look what Nodee’s got." And it just tickled me to death because they never did want me to go with them anywhere. And I-

Jim Colley: So you had really put one over on them?

Nodee Scarborough: Yeah, I got that. They said, "Well, how'd you do?" I said, "Well, you can come along and find out." And they didn't want to go along with me because I was a little girl and little too. And so they always tell mama not to let Nodee go. She says, we have a fight with the boys every time we come because they always teasing and picking at her and making her cry. And said, "We don't want her along anyway." But after I found the fish and showed them how I did it, why they just were willing for me to go there until... Well, something they thought was terribly exciting and they didn't want me to go. Like one day we were out in the field, we'd been picking up acorn nuts. In the fall when the cotton began to be picked, the acorn nuts and just wonderful in the pasture.

And we were picking those up and Josh and Ulyss was standing there looking and whistling and Josh says, "Ulyss, we ought take Nodee out and let us see that bear track." And I said, "Where's the bear track?" And they said, "Just wait, we'll show you." And they carried me through creeks and rob bushes and everything you could think of just to show me the bear track. And when we got up to the old house, we had an old house on the place where during the war, the Civil War, a federal soldier was being chased by some dogs and men. And anyway, he was shot and he went in this old building to rest and he died there on the stairs. And every winter, the blood would come out fresh on the wall of the stairs.

Jim Colley: And right by that house was where the bear track was?

Nodee Scarborough: Yeah. Right in front of that house, there was a road, but by the side of the road there was a great, big piece of bark from a tree. It just fallen off and fell down there. And he picked it up. He says, "Now Nodee, be ready for the surprise. You're going to see the biggest bear track." And he picked up the piece of bark and there was something funny it looked like, it might have been. If you use your imagination, you see a bear track. But I went home and I was so excited I couldn't stand it. I was just talking at the table and mama says, "Nodee, now just wait and don't get so excited. We will hear it all." And I told them how Josh and Ulyss found that. Josh and Ulyss were my two brothers, and therefore, he didn't know anything about it [inaudible 00:13:09].

Jim Colley: But they had played a trick on you with that bear track.

Nodee Scarborough: And they carried me through the most miserable torture to get to see it.

Jim Colley: Brothers always did that, didn't they?

Nodee Scarborough: You know, they just did me terrible. And they hated to have me go along. If I'd been a little older...

Jim Colley: Okay, Ms. Scarborough, we appreciate visiting with you. Our time's up, but it's been good hearing from you. We will tape another one of these shows with you.

Nodee Scarborough: All right. All right.

Jim Colley: Thank you for being with us and thanks to Peoples Bank and Trust for making this time for the Memories Show.

Nodee Scarborough: I enjoyed it.

Jim Colley talks with Nodee Scarborough about

80. Nodee Scorborough pt. 1

Transcript

David Dollar: In case you're just joining us, this is David Dollar this morning, on Memories, visiting with Mrs. Nodee Goree Scarborough. Ms. Scarborough, why don't you start things off this morning. Tell us a little bit about yourself. And then, we'll talk about some schooling that you went through.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Well, I was born in Haynesville, Louisiana, in 19, 1899. I'm 76 years old. And I grew up in a family of 12. And I was the 10th, after six boys. And I had three older sisters, so glad to see me, a little girl. And I had a turned up nose and freckles all over my face. And they spoiled me, of course, because they were so glad to have me. And my sister used to curl my hair, it was curly, and carry me down to one of the neighbors' houses and compare me with their little girl. She had lighter hair than I had. Mine was kind of honey-colored and hers was a real blonde and light. And she'd laugh and say, "Jimmy, your little sister's got really kinky hair."

David Dollar: But your sisters were sure that you were the prettiest one, huh?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Oh, yeah, they was. Uh-huh. And mama said I was so ugly, when I was born, that she used to cover my face to keep from anybody from seeing the whole thing. But, anyway, I grew up that way, in Florida, and I had my way. And I used to grab my books on Saturday, when mama wanted me to sweep the yards, and go down to the fodder loft and climb up in the loft and dig a deep hole in the fodder and pull my books in there with me, in the hole, and they couldn't find me. And I'd hear mama say, "Boys, go find Nodee. I know she's around here." And they couldn't find me anywhere.

Anyway, I went to school and I started at seven years old. And my little brothers were six. And so, we'd go to school and come back. And on the way to school, we'd stop and pick these beautiful Indian pipes that grew out on the side of a pond. Oh, goodness.

David Dollar: Indian pipes?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Yeah.

David Dollar: What are, you're going to have to tell me about those.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Indian pipes are little... What do you call it? That grows off of another plant?

David Dollar: Parasites?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Parasites.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Parasites. They're these little parasites. And it was a little waxy stem, about four or five inches long, with a little cup, white cup, just like a pipe.

David Dollar: Like a little pipe, huh?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Yes. And I'd catch the teacher and I'd give her some. And they'd just make the room smell so wonderful. And I'd keep some in my desk and I used the smell of them, all during the day.

David Dollar: Smell nice.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: And came home in the evening. I just couldn't wait until I'd get there. But on the way through the orchard, past the orchard, was the plowed ground. And I'd run out in the plowed ground with my little bare feet and the sand in between my toes and I'd throw up big handful of sand and run under it and let it come down on my head and toes. And mama would see me out the back door, and she said, "Little lady, I see you. Come right in and wash your hair, now. And wash your dresses. You have to wash your dress yourself, you did it."

David Dollar: Seems like mothers never quite remember how good it feels to have dirt all over you, huh?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Oh. I loved to get dirty and I loved to smell the plowed ground.

David Dollar: Yeah.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Well, anyway, we went to school. And in this school I had a good friend, Blanche Lewis, she's Mrs. Lester Parker now, lives in Mobile. And she and I started school together. And she was smarter than I was in spelling, but I could beat her in reading and arithmetic. I wasn't very good in arithmetic, as I got older, but I could learn multiplication and things, and addition. And after, after a while, we finished. I finished high school and we were going to the college, to Northwestern State. It was an NAMA college. And, just as I-

David Dollar: When did you start NAMA?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: 19... December 3rd, 1916. And we started then, because I never had had to bought a suit. Mama made.

David Dollar: Everything was homemade clothes?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Mama made all my clothes. And all my five, four sisters and I, she made all our clothes and made them. She made all our clothes.

David Dollar: My goodness.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: And so, when the cotton was all brought in and we had money to buy a suit, I bought a little green suit, this beautiful suit, lovely material, and had a little muskrat collar. It was a green suit with kind of muted tones in the collar. And my friend, Blanche, bought a brown one with a tan collar.

David Dollar: And that was your off-to-school suit?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Yeah.

David Dollar: The first one you bought?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: And I had a coat, a little plaid coat, in something like a flannelette, but it was a coat that was bought in the store. Mama didn't make it.

David Dollar: And those things were hard to come by.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Oh, yeah. Those suits cost $15.00 a piece. Blanche paid $15.00 for hers and I paid $15.00.

David Dollar: I bet you just shocked some people that are listening right now, a suit costing $15.00. That's a long time-

Nodee Goree Scarborough: $15.00, well when cotton was $.05 and $.06 and $.08 a pound-

David Dollar: ... That's right, I guess that's a lot of money.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: ... that was... Because we were raised on the farm, where we raised that could be raised. And things that we couldn't raise, we raised enough that we could raise, to buy what we couldn't raise.

David Dollar: Right. Let me interrupt you, right here, just a second. We're going to need to take another short commercial.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Uh-huh.

David Dollar: We'll be right back, visiting with Ms. Nodee Goree Scarborough, right after this message with our sponsor, People's Bank & Trust Company.

Hello, once again. In case you've just joined us this is David Dollar, visiting this morning with Ms. Nodee Goree Scarborough. Ms. Scarborough, why don't we pick up where we left off. You were talking about growing up and going to school. Tell us about your home, I think you were going to tell us about, where you and all those kids grew up.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Well, there was 12 of us. And my father and mother bought the place when they first married, before even marrying. And it was just two huge rooms, 20 x 20 feet, and a big hall between them, about 14 to 15 feet wide. That's all it was, at first. But, as the children came, they'd add another big 20 x 20 room, until we had about seven or eight rooms. And the dining room and kitchen was a 20 x 20, but they had a wall through it and cut it off and made 10 x 20 dining room and 10 x 20 kitchen. And there was a big fireplace that I could stand up in, at nine years old. It was a great big wide thing, 8 feet wide, I guess it was. And they'd burn great long logs in there and put it in the kitchen. And in mama's bedroom, too, they had another one.

David Dollar: Seems like, if y'all had many more kids, that would've been about as big as The White House, it sounds like. That would've had to be a pretty good-sized place.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Well, we had two attic rooms. Over there one over mama's room and one over the big boys' room. And we had a parlor. And then, we had hallway that run north and south and one east and west. And we had the parlor, across the hall, at the south end. It was south end of the house, but was the front.

David Dollar: Let me ask you this. This is a very selfish question. I've seen it on movies a lot. I just want to know, did very many boys come court you and y'all have to sit in the parlor there?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Oh. Yeah.

David Dollar: Is that where your brothers brought their girlfriends?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Yeah. Well, they didn't bring their girls. Well, they did, sometimes, but not often. The boys always came home though. We usually, when I was growing up, we used to walk around in the country and to parties and dance and things. My momma and poppa, usually, they said they'd rather have us at home and they'd give parties at home. And we'd have one of these old cranky phonographs that you listen to music, momma and poppa would sit and play the phonograph for us to dance by.

David Dollar: Do you remember any of the songs or records you listened to?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Yeah. Red River Valley and-

David Dollar: Red River Valley.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: ... Now, let's see. What was that? What was the name of that? I can't think.

David Dollar: But y'all just danced?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: Oh, yeah, we danced. And, oh, we square danced. Not square danced. My older sisters square danced, but my younger sisters and I, we didn't know anything about square dancing and some things.

David Dollar: Y'all were part of the new generation then? Didn't like to square dance, I guess?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: We did the other kind of dancing, foxtrots.

David Dollar: Oh my goodness.

Nodee Goree Scarborough: One-steps and two-steps and things like that. And I remember the turkey trot, when I was just a little bitty six-year-old girl.

David Dollar: Oh, yeah?

Nodee Goree Scarborough: But we danced to it. The little kids at school, we had a room out. When it was raining, we'd have a room out in the yard, that just a big room out there, where it used to be the music room, but we used it to play in, in the school time, in the rainy times. And we'd dance the turkey trot. I don't remember how it goes. It was funny.

David Dollar: Well, Ms. Scarborough, we're just about out of time. We thank you for having us in your home today. We thank you for sharing these memories with us. I had forgotten how much fun, really, it was to do things like get dirty and go to school, even.

David Dollar interviews Nodee Scarborough about growing up as one of twelve siblings and going to school.

79. Verlon Larkin

Transcript

Hubert Laster: Good morning. This is Hubert Laster and this morning on the Memories Program, we're going to be visiting with Mrs. Verlon Larkin. We'll be back in just a moment after a word from our sponsors.

Hello. We're back again. We're visiting along Shady Grove with Mrs. Verlon Larkin. And she's been on the program once before, eight months back, and she was going to tell us about when she got married. Now your father and you worked a year as a blacksmith now. What did you do?

Verlon Larkin: After we left the farm, he moved to this job working for a lumber company. He kept the corral. He did the blacksmithing, kept up the teams, the harness, and he had to keep the mules shod all the time and did the feeding for 52 head mules, kept the harness up. So when he would work at the shop some days he would need us to help him. They had eight wheel log wagons and four mules pulled each wagon. So I've helped him build on those log wagons, worked all day with him, tightening bolts, holding things, turning the blowers for him to do the iron work. And some days the mule would be too bad to hold that had a chute that build to put him in that chute to put shoes on him.

Hubert Laster: Okay.

Verlon Larkin: But when he had ones that wasn't too bad, he would put a twist on the nose. It had a short rope like and on one end a long handle light, and he would put that twist on that mule's nose and tell us to hold him and we'd hold him.

Hubert Laster: The mule wouldn't move.

Verlon Larkin: He didn't go nowhere. It hurt him too bad.

Hubert Laster: I guess so. If somebody twisted my nose, I wouldn't move either.

Verlon Larkin: So that was for a year, we worked in taking care of this corral.

Hubert Laster: Now did he build wagons also?

Verlon Larkin: Well, he would build the wheels, put rims, new spokes, and any part of the wagon had to be rebuilt, he could put in the new parts.

Hubert Laster: How do you build a wheel, a wagon wheel?

Verlon Larkin: Well, he had a way, they built the wheels. They would have new spokes and then they would put these spokes all in this hub and then he would have a fire built hot enough to heat that rim real hot because when he'd get all that woodwork on there, you see that rim, it'd be just a little bit larger than the rim would be. So he'd heat that rim to where it would expand and then he would get it on that wheel then and then he would cool that in water when he got it done, and it was there to stay.

Hubert Laster: What kind of wood is a wagon wheel made out of?

Verlon Larkin: It was mostly made out of oak timber, something, you know, sturdy that would last.

Hubert Laster: Now did he cut the spokes himself or did-

Verlon Larkin: No, the spokes is factory made. They would order them from the factory, just big supply them at the time. And they kept up a lot of leather and different brands and different things where he'd have to redo the harness the same way, keep that up.

Hubert Laster: And after that you met your husband?

Verlon Larkin: While we were there, he running the shop, caring for the corral. I met my husband, he was swamping. They called it swamping.

Hubert Laster: What is it?

Verlon Larkin: Our cutting banking ground. It was cutting off, clearing a right-of-way for the log wagons to haul the logs in and bank them up close to the railroad track. They hauled those logs on trains. They would back those cars in there and load them and haul that out of the woods and pile them and bank them.

Hubert Laster: I see.

Verlon Larkin: So they call that cutting the banking ground. And then in the woods, the swamping part was out in the woods where the teams had to go and get the logs. See they'd go in there with the wagons. He'd have to cut roads and they called that swamping.

Hubert Laster: And you and your husband met each other-

Verlon Larkin: And he was working there for $3 a day. And my daddy run the blacksmith shop and his salary was $120 a month.

Hubert Laster: That was good pay.

Verlon Larkin: It was good pay for him because it was much better than what we were doing on the farm. And it didn't take as much labor for all of us on the farm. And there he could handle it about the help of us helping him some. And we'd go feed in the afternoon, we'd go and we'd pull down those sacks of oats and chops and drag them to the door for him. We, of course, wasn't very big. We'd crawl up in the cars easier. We'd throw a hook in that hay and drag it to the door.

Hubert Laster: I see. And you were 14 when you married your husband?

Verlon Larkin: I was 14 there and then... When we first moved there, I was 13 and we moved there in October of '26. I was 13. And then in November of '27, I married my husband.

Hubert Laster: What did you and him do afterwards?

Verlon Larkin: Well, he stayed on there a while from November until March, still swamping.

Hubert Laster: Okay.

Verlon Larkin: So we finally come down here on the farm and that's where I've been, well farm most of the time, farming down in here. And he'd go back to that job, you know, and farm again. And not farming, but do some more swamping.

Hubert Laster: He liked it.

Verlon Larkin: Well, when you don't have a home, you just go here and yonder and just no jobs and no pay. He's worked there for a salary of $1.72 cents a day.

Hubert Laster: Those must have been hard times.

Verlon Larkin: They were real hard times. I've lived through some thick and thin spots. Sure have.

Hubert Laster: You were talking about a little bit earlier that you'd done almost everything and you had, was it shucked cane? What is-

Verlon Larkin: After I married him, we come to the farm down here. We had cane. We growed our cane and had our own syrup. And I shucked cane. I sure did.

Hubert Laster: What's a shucked cane?

Verlon Larkin: Stripped cane. Stripped it with a knife. Sure did. They have, it's a knife that has a hook on the end, and you just get right down that cane, just go all around it and it'll just strip it off and you just... Oh, you know it grows in big bunches. So you just leave it that way until you get ready to cut it to grind, then they go in to top it.

Hubert Laster: I see.

Verlon Larkin: And then they cut it off at the ground and load it [inaudible 00:07:27] and carry it to the mill.

Hubert Laster: We need to take a break right now. We'll be back in just a moment. If you've just joined us, we're visiting with Mrs. Verlon Larkin out in Shady Grove area. You were talking about s

Verlon Larkin: That was what my husband's father told me when he was a boy. He said it was a real shoot-em-up town at times because they'd come through Robeline with their stuff going to Grand Ecore, to ship it on the boat and there was a little livery stable there. And when they got there, well they always put the teams, but it was nice. They left them there and they had the watering troughs and the well was in the street.

Hubert Laster: In the middle of the street?

Verlon Larkin: In the street because when they built this highway 10 years ago, one of the dozers got in that place and it was that ground had never a field settled like it would in the other place. And they got in that place and my husband's sister, she's 83 and she told me that it was a well had two water troughs and her daddy told me the same thing. That's where they watered the stock. They said come through town. And they get drunk, they had the saloon there. And so usually that whole bunch of them get drunk and get into little spats and he said sometimes it was rough. They called it “Scuffleville” he said because it was rough. It wasn't called Robeline then.

Hubert Laster: I wonder if the founding fathers of Robeline know that their town used to be “Scuffleville”.

Verlon Larkin: “Scuffleville”. That's right and he was 85 when he died. And he died in 1953. So he said when he was a boy, it must've been a pretty rough little town. There wasn't too much of nothing but just trails.

Hubert Laster: I guess so.

Verlon Larkin: That was what he told me.

Hubert Laster: Mrs. Larkin, tell me about broad axes off the wall and everything, but they're used to-

Verlon Larkin: Hue cross ties.

Hubert Laster: Yes ma'am.

Verlon Larkin: That's what they're used for.

Hubert Laster: They give a perfect depth each time they cut.

Verlon Larkin: Each time they cut and they can just cut that so thin and you can go hack and then you go back with that broad ax and it'll just cut that tie just almost like it's sawed with a saw. And there is a left hand broad ax and a right hand, sure is.

Hubert Laster: By the bevel or something?

Verlon Larkin: Yeah, the bevel. Go by the bevel because if you hue right-handed, use the ax right handed, the bevels made on the right outside. If you hue left-handed, it'll be on the left-hand side.

Hubert Laster: So it's not double bevel in other words?

Verlon Larkin: No, no.

Hubert Laster: I see. You're telling me about your father had a broad ax. No, your husband had-

Verlon Larkin: My husband had one. He had one he bought before me and him was married and he had let his daddy use it and his daddy was hewing ties over in the woods when these two men come walking by through the woods that day. And so that night he just pitched his axes up under a log and raked some leaves on it and next morning when he got back they were gone. Well, he had an idea who got them, but he couldn't do anything about it.

So here just a few years ago, a man bought a place over here and my husband and my daughter and myself was walking around there. Because the lady that bought it was a sister to her husband and she said, "Let's just see what we can find daddy." So he walked up to this shed and there was his ax. He said, "Look here Geraldine, here's my broad ax." It had his initials on it. He cut them with a file when he bought it so he would know it, there it lay. The very man that his daddy said he thought got the ax, must have been the one who got it because it was at his house.

Hubert Laster: Still in good condition.

Verlon Larkin: It was in good condition, didn't have any handle in it. But he'd taken it home and we was going to keep it and we kept it to seven years and then we moved here. I put it out here in the shed when we moved here, went fishing one weekend, and when come back someone had stolen it.

Hubert Laster: That broad ax just wasn't supposed to be y'alls-

Verlon Larkin: It wasn't supposed to be ours.

Hubert Laster: I guess not.

Verlon Larkin: It sure wasn't.

Hubert Laster: A lot of our listeners know that you quilt, and locally you're pretty famous as a quilter.

Verlon Larkin: I guess I am. Lots of people says I am.

Hubert Laster: What about the first time you ever quilted?

Verlon Larkin: Well, that was the first time I quilted was the night when my mother asked us to quilt. I quilted without a thimble and I can't make a stitch without a thimble now. I learned to quilt though, that night and from then on when she quilted, we'd quilt. When I married, I just kept it up. I had a lot of children, so I quilted lots of quilts for myself.

Hubert Laster: You were telling me about the first time, that that first time when you didn't have a thimble and where was your father?

Verlon Larkin: He had gone to carry two men some supper that was making moonshine whiskey.

Hubert Laster: And he made you go to bed at night?

Verlon Larkin: Always made us go to bed earlier, but that night he went to carry the supper, or we went and set up that night and quilted.

Hubert Laster: I see. That learned you to quilt.

Verlon Larkin: I learned to quilt that night and after that I would always quilt, help mama quilt.

Hubert Laster: Well, Mrs. Larkin, we've enjoyed visiting with you very much.

Verlon Larkin: Well, I enjoyed this and I thank you all much, but I can't give you too much information, I don't guess.

Hubert Laster: Oh, you've given us quite a lot, ma'am. If you have memories that you would like to share, would you please call the Retired Seniors Volunteer Program? That number is 352-8647. They're lovely people and I would like to have your memories myself. This is Hubert Laster wishing you all a very pleasant, good day.

In a follow up discussion, Hubert Laster interviews Verlon Larkin about helping her father with blacksmithing, making a wagon wheel, “swamping”, getting married, growing sugar cane, the history of Robeline, broadaxes, and quilting.

78. Mrs. Vernon C. Cloutier

Transcript

Jim Colley: Good morning. This morning, we're bringing you The Memories Program from Beaufort, the home of Mrs. Vernon C. Cloutier. And we'll be back in just a few minutes after this word from Peoples Bank and Trust, our sponsors.

Ms. Cloutier, we're glad to be visiting with you on The Memories Program. I'm Jim Colley. This is a beautiful home.

Mrs. Cloutier: Thank you so much, Mr. Colley. I am glad to be here. Glad to have you with me.

Jim Colley: Thank you, ma'am. We were talking before the show began. You said that you were the eighth generation to live in this area.

Mrs. Cloutier: I am. I am. And I've only lived in two houses in this area.

Jim Colley: Which two houses are those?

Mrs. Cloutier: The present home of Beaufort and the present home, which was my home where J.H., my brother lives. J.H. Williams lives up on Williams Avenue.

Jim Colley: You probably remember a lot about growing up in Natchitoches Parish since you were born and reared here. What was it like growing up in Natchitoches?

Mrs. Cloutier: It was small, country and wonderful. We knew everybody and we did everything in a wonderful way, in an innocent way, and we had a great rearing.

Jim Colley: I'll bet it was. What was school like? Did you go to school?

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh, yes. I went to school at St. Mary's Academy from the first grade through the 12th grade. There were only about 36 to 38 in the four grades, and we were all in one room. And it was like a big family, we had a wonderful time. When I graduated, there were only 12 in the class. It was a big class in those days.

Jim Colley: Can I ask you what year you graduated in?

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes. I finished St. Mary's Academy in 1922, and college in 1926.

Jim Colley: Where did you go to college?

Mrs. Cloutier: Right here in Natchitoches, four years.

Jim Colley: At the Normal School?

Mrs. Cloutier: Louisiana State Normal. And we had to sign before we entered that when we got our two-year certificate that we would promise to teach not less than one year in the state.

Jim Colley: They wanted all those people to teach.

Mrs. Cloutier: That's right.

Jim Colley: Who was the president of the school when you were there?

Mrs. Cloutier: Mr. V.L. Roy, and he was hard as tacks, one of the few men in the world that I was afraid of.

Jim Colley: I can't imagine you being afraid of anybody.

Mrs. Cloutier: Well, I was scared of him and the devil.

Jim Colley: And that's about all.

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes.

Jim Colley: You were saying that while you were in public school you had tutoring in the afternoons.

Mrs. Cloutier: At private school.

Jim Colley: At private school, right.

Mrs. Cloutier: I was tutored by my grandmother's sister, Mrs. Edwina Sutter, the first postmistress of Natchitoches. And she lived across the river from my home. But I had to walk up there carrying my books in a book satchel every day. Then coming back down front street where I meandered and maundered, looking in the windows and having fun talking to everybody until I got home. It was generally around five o'clock when I reached home.

Jim Colley: Now when you told it this time, you left out an important detail. Do you remember what that was?

Mrs. Cloutier: Walking across the bridge.

Jim Colley: And all the boys that were on the bridge.

Mrs. Cloutier: Seeing the boys on the bridge. But I happened to be tutored about 10 years so the boys wasn't interested to me at first, but there were towards the end.

Jim Colley: I see. You said that you used to wear a hat all the time.

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh yes, and sometimes the boys would take my hats off and throw them in the river and I'd come home hatless.

Jim Colley: I see. What was dating like in those days? Could you go out and date a lot?

Mrs. Cloutier: Well, we didn't know much about dating until we were finishing high school. We were just about ready to start dating. But having a half-sister who lived in Colfax, I visited her two weeks every summer, and that was where I made my debut and started going with boys when I was about 15, a very early age to date.

Jim Colley: That was very early in those days.

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes, indeed.

Jim Colley: Did they let you go out with boys who had cars?

Mrs. Cloutier: I was not allowed to ride in a car after dark until I was 21, and you know who he was?

Jim Colley: Who was the first one?

Mrs. Cloutier: A gentleman named Reverend Tenney, named Baptist minister, a very charming man. And he asked me for my first date when I was 21 years old, and I liked him very much. He lived with us at that time.

Jim Colley: And you got to go riding in the car with him at night.

Mrs. Cloutier: With a man, a Baptist preacher.

Jim Colley: That was something else.

Mrs. Cloutier: It really was.

Jim Colley: The events that happened and living in the country, you used to go up to Shreveport to the fair. What was the fair like?

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh, we had certain events like the Shreveport Fair all during high school. We thought that was great, that was something. And the Paul English shows that came, and tent shows, that was really something for us country girls. We had a great time.

Jim Colley: What was the fair like?

Mrs. Cloutier: Very similar to what it is today and even though we were juniors and seniors in high school, we didn't miss riding on one thing.

Jim Colley: That was quite an exciting thing to do.

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh, yes. Oh, yes.

Jim Colley: I want to talk to you about, did you call them the Paul English shows?

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes, they were the tent shows. Vaudevilles and minstrels.

Jim Colley: Let's talk about those shows in just a few minutes, but we'll take a break right now and let our sponsors, Peoples Bank and Trust have this commercial word.

In case you've just joined us, this is The Memories Program. I'm Jim Colley and we're visiting with Mrs. Vernon Cloutier. We were just talking about the Paul English Show. What was that?

Mrs. Cloutier: Well, they were mainly vaudevilles, and I just thought acting on the stage was great, and sometimes minstrels. And we heard that Paul English was coming to town, it was exciting days for us.

Jim Colley: I'll bet it was. Did they come in a tent?

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes, they did. And the tents, well sometimes they would come annually and then sometimes every other year. And they would pitch a tent either up at West Natchitoches, where the old ballpark was, I think now stands the present of federal project. Or, sometimes in that very bad section below the main bridge of town they call Lower East Natchitoches, very de fondue, where the present shopping center is at.

Jim Colley: So the Broadmoor Shopping Center used to be where-

Mrs. Cloutier: Was a woodland, and wasn't a road anywhere near there.

Jim Colley: And wasn't a very nice place to go.

Mrs. Cloutier: That's right.

Jim Colley: And that's where they had put the tent for the minstrel show and the vaudeville.

Mrs. Cloutier: It was a vacant slot there you see, and it had been cleared off and we could go there.

Jim Colley: Someone was telling me one time about the circuses that used to come to Natchitoches and the trains that would pull up and-

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh, yes. The circuses were held and sometimes they'd let us off from school to go see them unload the elephants. And that would be in the afternoon and we'd all be excited and watch and sometimes go walk down the parade with all the animals. It was a big to-do in Natchitoches.

Jim Colley: Where would they water the elephants? They'd get off at the rail yard and walk the elephants down, to what, the Cane River to water them?

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes, yes, yes.

Jim Colley: And that I'm sure was pretty exciting.

Mrs. Cloutier: Yes, it was, for all of us children.

Jim Colley: We were talking about your four years at the Normal School. What was life like living at the Normal School?

Mrs. Cloutier: Well, it was rather tough. The girls on Northwestern campus were, I would say 80% and the boys 20, sometimes maybe 10. And the girls were not allowed to come to town except on Saturday mornings. And oh, it was a to-do for the girls to come walking two-by-two, four-by-four, to do their shopping in Natchitoches once a week. We town girls would ride up and watch them because they couldn't ride in cars, they had to walk.

But the rules at Northwestern was something terrific. I don't think the present generation could stand it. There were many deans, whereas today the deans are not needed because the boys and girls stay in the same dormitories. But Mr. Roy, our president, was so strict and I was so afraid of him. I guess I wasn't afraid of anyone in those days, but Mr. Roy and the devil.

Jim Colley: Did you ever get into any trouble while you were in school?

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh, I stayed in trouble. I stayed in trouble. I got shipped, which it means, being sent home indefinitely, about five times.

Jim Colley: Ms. Cloutier, five times?

Mrs. Cloutier: About five times.

Jim Colley: What did you do?

Mrs. Cloutier: Well, the first time two other girls and I were talking on the wrong side. The boys were supposed to be on one side and the girls on the other side. The second time I was walking in front of Caldwell Hall, and she'd always liked the boys. And I had my arm hanging around two boys, our arms were clasped. These two boys were cute too and real lifelong friends, Jack Ducadeaux and Raymond Whitehead. Well, my underskirt happened to be passing. We wore underskirts in those days and my underskirt happened to be passing, so I was caught on two offenses. My underskirt passed and walking, talking with two boys.

Jim Colley: Now that means your underskirt was just showing out?

Mrs. Cloutier: Yeah, just a little bit. Then the third offense, in my junior year, I got shipped because I didn't wear a hairnet and my practice teacher knew. Then the fourth offense, I was also in my junior year or senior year. My senior year I was staying at the practice college on the campus. I had made a fruit cake for Christmas. Well, I come in with my bloomers on which were very wide-legged bloomers, hanging from my knee to my ankle halfway. And of course, we had not only deans but spies, they called them, that always were out to catch the other fellow doing something wrong, and I was caught going across the campus. I had gone to get a little cup of whiskey to put on my fruit cake, so I was called for two offenses there.

Then my last offense, I was a senior. I was dancing at noon in the main room as you entered Caldwell Hall with a very nice boy, Tommy Pearson. And the two people who were playing the jazz it up piano were Mr. Kenny Keegan, who was the Baptist minister later on, and our dear friend, Mimi Judd, they'd take turns. Well, one of the spies passed by and I was the only one seen, so I was the only one that shipped.

So I went home and my father didn't know what to expect and my mother went, "Now he says, well, we'll just go back and see, what is the trouble? What has happened to Roy again?" Well, my father and Mr. Roy happened to be at the same church and at that time they were having a terrific drive for the church. We walked in the office, he says, "Well, come in Mr. Henry, we going talk about the drive, best you go on back to school," and that was the end of my fifth shipping.

Jim Colley: It's a wonder to me that you ever got through school at all with being shipped that often?

Mrs. Cloutier: Well, I was by far from being an honor student.

Jim Colley: Ms. Cloutier, have so much enjoyed visiting with you this morning. We appreciate you sharing some of your memories with us about Natchitoches and what it was like growing up around here.

Mrs. Cloutier: Thank you. I think Natchitoches is a wonderful town and I wouldn't live anywhere else.

Jim Colley: Thank you, ma'am. On behalf of myself and Peoples Bank and Trust, we thank you for being with us.

Mrs. Cloutier: Oh.

Jim Colley interviews Mrs. Vernon Cloutier about growing up as the 8th generation of her family in Natchitoches, early school and tutoring, dating, fairs and shows, watching circus animals come in by train, and her university infractions.

77. Reba Wheat

Transcript

Jim Colley: This is Jim Colley and this is The Memory Show. This morning, we're visiting with Mrs. Reba Wheat. Welcome to the Memories Program.

Reba Wheat: Thank you.

Jim Colley: We're glad you're here. We were talking about where you grew up. You're an old kind of Natchitoches Parish person, aren't you?

Reba Wheat: Yes. I grew up out at Clarence. I was born there and spent most of my life until I married at Clarence.

Jim Colley: Is it fair to ask you when you were born?

Reba Wheat: Now that's personal.

Jim Colley: But over 50 years ago?

Reba Wheat: Over 50.

Jim Colley: All right. We'll leave-

Reba Wheat: ... Over 60, I'll leave it like that.

Jim Colley: That's fair game. What was it like growing up at Clarence over 60 years ago?

Reba Wheat: Well, as I remember it, it was a very good experience. We were happy. We were not rich, or in fact, we were among the poor people. Everybody was. Everybody took it for granted you were going to be. We were not property owners. My dad was a machinist, a blacksmith, worked whatever, well, any kind of machinery. He eventually ran the gin. He built the gin, he ran the gin. And so we lived in the country. We had all the advantages of country life and few of the disadvantages.

Jim Colley: What were some of those advantages to country life?

Reba Wheat: Plenty of room to run around, plenty of room to wander and to walk. A friendly, friendly people, just a happy experience. That's all I can say about it.

Jim Colley: Good for a kid to grow up in.

Reba Wheat: Ideal for a kid to grow up in.

Jim Colley: What were some of the disadvantages to country life?

Reba Wheat: One was school. We at times had a bit of a problem of keeping teachers. At that time, the parish organization was not what it is today, and school was apt to be cut short. That was one of the worst things that I can realize.

Jim Colley: The teacher would leave and that was that?

Reba Wheat: That was that. So actually, that's the only disadvantage I can think of because we had a doctor living in the community. We had our churches, we had two churches in that community when I was growing up, and I don't know what else we would've needed.

Jim Colley: So you had just about all there was to have a good community life and a good family life.

Reba Wheat: That's right, that's right.

Jim Colley: You said your dad was a blacksmith,

Reba Wheat: Right.

Jim Colley: Do you remember much about his old blacksmith shop?

Reba Wheat: I remember playing around in that shop the biggest portion of my growing up years. It was fun, it was dangerous, but he watched over us very carefully and taught us how to manage anything we were big enough to manage and of course it was a gathering place in the community. Everybody loved him, and he liked people very much. So it was just a good experience all around.

Jim Colley: What was his name, Mrs. Wheat?

Reba Wheat: Petey Span.

Jim Colley: I bet you some people will remember that name.

Reba Wheat: I know people will remember him. He died a couple of years ago at the age of 93.

Jim Colley: So he had a good long life?

Reba Wheat: A good long, full life.

Jim Colley: That's great.

Reba Wheat: Now there are a few things about my family of which I've been particularly proud. We always had reading material at home. We always had music of some kind. The good things, we had. Now, there were times when we had to do some scrapping to get the proper amount of food. There was never any money to throw away, but the good things we had.

Jim Colley: So you really feel good about growing up?

Reba Wheat: I really feel good about it.

Jim Colley: What was school like for a little girl?

Reba Wheat: Well, school was fun. You met your friends, you studied because you were interested. You were expected to study, that's the purpose in going. There was no such thing as somebody giving a grade, you learned because you wanted to know. In this little school, I have realized since that we were fortunate. We had, it was a very small library, but a very rich library, and we had some teachers who had sense enough to say, read if you want to. So I grew up reading.

Jim Colley: And they gave you the time to read?

Reba Wheat: And they gave us the time to read.

Jim Colley: Time and encouragement really helps.

Reba Wheat: That's right.

Jim Colley: How large was that school?

Reba Wheat: Well, couldn't have had more than 30 students in it.

Jim Colley: Two rooms.

Reba Wheat: Two rooms. Seven, and sometimes eight grades, but mostly seven. It was a school to which my mother had gone when she was about that age. I mean at the finishing age, seventh grade. Of course, to her, they had taught up the McGuffey readers, which gave you a liberal education. We didn't have the advantage of those readers, but we had the advantage of knowing the people who knew those readers.

Jim Colley: Now you're going to have to tell me about a McGuffey reader. Why do you call a McGuffey reader a liberal education?

Reba Wheat: Because McGuffey wrote them. Because they wrote them, they included all kinds of literature, good literature. They were moral teachings for kids. They had the fables in them in which a story or a moral was taught. But all the literature was what we really termed good literature. A basic moral foundation, a knowledge of words, a knowledge of meanings. They included writers from all sections back.

Jim Colley: So you said you didn't have the McGuffey reader.

Reba Wheat: No.

Jim Colley: But that you knew the people who did.

Reba Wheat: That's right.

Jim Colley: Now, how did they pass that along to you?

Reba Wheat: Because they expected something good out of us. We can't give you an education, but we can give you the opportunity to earn an education. I grew up knowing that nobody can be given anything like that, you have to work for it. Which so many of our kids today don't realize that we cannot give it to them.

Jim Colley: Have to work at it?

Reba Wheat: You have to work at it. Well, I grew up knowing that.

Jim Colley: The McGuffey Reader, it seems to me, if I remember what other people have told me, had a lot of poems in it.

Reba Wheat: Oh yes. And you memorized them. And I grew up memorizing poetry.

Jim Colley: What's your favorite poem that you memorized out of it?

Reba Wheat: The Time Solance Law.

Jim Colley: How does that begin?

Reba Wheat: I haven't [inaudible 00:07:06].

Jim Colley: Couldn't remember it now?

Reba Wheat: No. I could remember lines, but I couldn't remember.

Jim Colley: I had to remember Evangeline, to memorize Evangeline.

Reba Wheat: Oh, well, we did parts of it.

Jim Colley: And I could always do the first two lines and then I quit.

Reba Wheat: Oh, I could probably do that.

Jim Colley: This is the forest-

Reba Wheat: Primeval.

Jim Colley: The Murmuring Pines, and the hemlocks stand like druids of eld, whatever. I wish I could remember that.

We'll be back in just a moment to visit with you, Mrs. Wheat, after this word from People's Bank and Trust our sponsors.

This is Jim Colley and this morning on the Memory Show, we're visiting with Mrs. Reba Wheat in her home here in Natchitoches. Ms. Wheat, we were talking about the McGuffey Reader just a few minutes ago. You said that the school you went to in Clarence finished with you about the eighth grade.

Reba Wheat: That's right.

Jim Colley: What happened then?

Reba Wheat: We moved over here to town. I went into Natchitoches High School, finished there, went on into the college.

Jim Colley: Did you go straight into college after high school?

Reba Wheat: Yes. I went in the summer after we had finished in May and went straight on through.

Jim Colley: That just amazes me.

Reba Wheat: Not anybody who loved to study like I did.

Jim Colley: Okay. What was the normal school at that time?

Reba Wheat: Well, as I realize now, it wasn't very large. I don't know, the population must've been around a thousand, more or less.

Jim Colley: Which was a big school for you then.

Reba Wheat: Which was a pretty good-sized school, but it was not so large, but that there was a friendly communication between faculty and students. Now, of course, there were students at that time who rebelled just as there are students today.

Jim Colley: How did they rebel?

Reba Wheat: Slipping out of the dormitory, getting into trouble, cutting classes, all that kind of thing.

Jim Colley: Just like what goes on now.

Reba Wheat: Just like what goes on now, same type thing. Refusing to study because they didn't like such and such thing. It's hard to say.

Jim Colley: Who was the president when you were there?

Reba Wheat: V.L Roy.

Jim Colley: Did you ever have any contact with Dr. Roy?

Reba Wheat: Twice.

Jim Colley: Twice.

Reba Wheat: Twice.

Jim Colley: You remember those vividly, I take it?

Reba Wheat: First time I was late to class on January 1. Now we were actually in classes and I had been out the night before to watch a night service, and I was 10 minutes late. Well, he kind of got a little bit irate about it and wanted to know where I'd been out dancing, and I told him I hadn't and told him where I had been. He said, well go on to class, then. Gave me a note.

Jim Colley: Okay. That was the first one.

Reba Wheat: The next time I'm standing up in the hall talking to a friend of mine, a boy, a student, and Mr. Roy sent us in separate directions. He didn't like that one bit.

Jim Colley: Didn't like those boys talking with the girls?

Reba Wheat: No siree, at that time you didn't. And if you dared walk down the hall with one and Mr. Roy or one or two of the other teachers saw, you got called in about it and talked to pretty firmly.

Jim Colley: You saw quite a few of the teachers while you were there.

Reba Wheat: Right.

Jim Colley: Do you have any favorites who were professors?

Reba Wheat: Mr. Forinay, first.

Jim Colley: What did he teach?

Reba Wheat: Physics.

Jim Colley: Oh, my. How could anybody have a favorite physics teacher?

Reba Wheat: Oh, that man. He really knew what he was doing. He knew how to put it across and we had fun in his classes. So long as you did your work, he was not rigid. He was not unreasonable. Now, if you didn't make any effort, he could really ring you out about it. But if you were trying and were interested, he would go to any length whatever to help.

Jim Colley: Well, that sounds like a good teacher.

Reba Wheat: Well, he was a very good teacher.

Jim Colley: Did you have other favorites?

Reba Wheat: Well, Ms. Winters, Katherine Winters, was one of the best history teachers I ever ran into. Mr. Killen, Mr. Sparks and Mr. Maddox and my math classes. I was very fond of all of them. Some of the names of some of the others, I don't remember.

Jim Colley: Did all the faculty kind of live in one part of town?

Reba Wheat: Well, I don't know about that, but I do know that on our street, which is Cypress Lane, there were more faculty there. We called it Faculty Row because almost every other house, at least. Now, I can-

Jim Colley: So that's right over here on Cypress next-

Reba Wheat: Cypress Lane, that's right. Would you like for me to give you some of the names?

Jim Colley: I'd like to.

Reba Wheat: All right. Beginning at the end of the street, away from the college was Mr. Good, who taught sociology and who wrote the textbook that they used for a long time. Mr. Alama, who taught education, I believe. I'm not sure, but I think so. Then our house was next. Now there was two or three other houses, two other houses. I don't remember who lived in them, they were not faculty. Then a Mr. McAfee who taught education, and another one I don't remember. Then, by the way, was Mr. Limley, who was the Presbyterian minister, and Dr. Reed next to him. Now, I don't remember about the next house, whether that was Mr. Wagner or whether Mr. Wagner lived in the next one. There was a vacant lot of two on there. Now I'm going down just one side of the street. And then Mr. Asselt's home. Now going back up the other end again, there was a Mr. Prudem or maybe two houses with people named Prudem. I'm not sure about that. Then Mr. Prather, then a vacant lot, then a Ms. Taylor, I believe, and a Mr. Smith. Then a Ms. Prudem. Now in there is where they built, I don't remember who lives there now. Then Mr. Williamson, Mr. Guardia. Mr. Guardia taught geography. Mr. Williamson was, well, the museum's named after him, I don't know what he taught. And someone else on the corner, I don't remember who. Not too many houses in there, but a good representation.

Jim Colley: And you lived in the midst of Faculty Row and all those people around you. And you didn't have any choice but to be a good student, I think.

Reba Wheat: Well, I loved to study. That's was the, that’s the advantage that I had over so many others. It appealed to me. And these people were friendly. Oh, they are lovely people. I just enjoyed living with them very much. Now, Ms. Prather and Ms. Alama, and I believe Ms. Good had decided when I finished high school that I did too much studying and I was going to miss something out of college if I didn't.

Jim Colley: So did they see after your social life?

Reba Wheat: Well, they advised me, not to spend all my time studying.

Jim Colley: Mrs. Wheat, I've enjoyed visiting with you. I'm sorry our time is up.

Reba Wheat: Well...

Jim Colley: But it's been good for us and I've enjoyed sharing your memories.

Reba Wheat: Well, thank you. It's been nice.

Jim Colley: We hope that if you know someone who ought to be sharing their memories with us, you'll call either Roger Williams at People's Bank and Trust or Catherine Dollar with a retired senior volunteer program, and we'll get that word and go and have a good talk with them. Thank you again.

Reba Wheat: Thank you.

Jim Colley interviews Reba Wheat about growing up in Natchitoches Parish, and her experiences at school in Clarence and at the Normal School in Natchitoches.

76. Marie Dupre

Transcript

Jim Colley (00:04): Hello again. This is Jim Colley and we're visiting On Memories with Mrs. Marie Dupre. Ms. Dupre, welcome to the show. We're awful glad you're here. I understand you've been in teaching and working in education around here most of your life.

Marie Dupre (00:19): Yes, I have.

Jim Colley (00:21): How long did you teach in Natchitoches Parish?

Marie Dupre (00:24): I taught 47 years in Natchitoches Parish.

Jim Colley (00:26): Gosh, when did you begin?

Marie Dupre (00:27): I started teaching in 1927 and retired in 1952.

Jim Colley (00:34): Well you're still a spring chicken then, aren't you?

Marie Dupre (00:36): I certainly am.

Jim Colley (00:38): I'll bet you are. Did you go to school here yourself?

Marie Dupre (00:41): I went to school at... it was called St. Joseph Elementary School at the time. Then I went to a public school in Montrose, Louisiana. Professor Thomas was the principal. The dear Professor Thomas that stayed at Natchitoches Central so long.

Jim Colley (00:59): He came up to Natchitoches Central after teaching in Montrose?

Marie Dupre (01:02): After teaching in Montrose.

Jim Colley (01:05): He was the principal at that school then?

Marie Dupre (01:05): Yes, he was.

Jim Colley (01:06): Well, did you live real close to the school?

Marie Dupre (01:07): No, I didn't. I had to walk sometimes. Sometime I had to ride. I had a little horse was named Nell, and I rode the horse to school. And some days I walked to school.

Jim Colley (01:18): How long a walk was that?

Marie Dupre (01:20): Oh that must've been six miles or longer.

Jim Colley (01:23): You know now, I always hear folks saying, "Back when I was young, I had to walk six miles to go to school," but that's true, huh?

Marie Dupre (01:31): That's really true. Then when I was teaching in Chopin, I taught at Springhill School in Chopin, I had to walk there. I walked many a Sundays from Chopin to Cloutierville to the St. John's Catholic Church to mass and back.

Jim Colley (01:48): Hmm. People traveled on their feet most of the time back then, didn't they?

Marie Dupre (01:52): They certainly did.

Jim Colley (01:53): I don't guess many people had ponies they could use.

Marie Dupre (01:56): Well, quite a number of people had ponies, but of course, children went to school walking. Maybe some of the boys sometime rode the ponies.

Jim Colley (02:04): But you were lucky, you had a horse named Nell?

Marie Dupre (02:07): Yes, I was.

Jim Colley (02:09): After you got through at the St Joseph's School, where did you go?

Marie Dupre (02:12): After I finished from St. Joseph's School, in the elementary school, for eighth grade, I went to New Orleans in the public school one year. Then I went to Xavier Prep Catholic School. Then from Xavier Prep to Xavier College, the university now. I also went to Wiley College and took extension [inaudible 00:02:33]... from Southern University.

Jim Colley (02:34): Boy, you've had a lot of educational experiences. Saint Xavier was... where was that?

Marie Dupre (02:39): Xavier is in New Orleans, Louisiana. I caught a many foals trying to learn to skate since skating was the fad then. Roller skates.

Jim Colley (02:49): Oh, is that what you did for recreation?

Marie Dupre (02:50): Yes, I did quite a bit of that for recreation.

Jim Colley (02:53): And if you didn't know how to skate?

Marie Dupre (02:55): You just fell.

Jim Colley (02:55): That's right. What was dating like when you were in New Orleans? Could you go out with a boy?

Marie Dupre (03:04): Well, I went out once or twice. Of course, I had an old aunt that didn't like... Quite like old people do, when you were dating, they want to know who it was, where were you going, here, there and the other. It wasn't like the students of today, walk out the door and say I'm gone. Or maybe don't say that and go ahead anyway. But, I enjoyed it. I had quite a number of friends. Of course, I went to a number of football and basketball games, because I had one little friend that was all tied up in basketball and football, and he got all the tickets for me, so I went to the games.

Jim Colley (03:40): That was pretty handy. You were talking before we began taping about going to school in the Isle, now what was the Isle?

Marie Dupre (03:51): The Isle is this little settlement in Melrose just on this side of the river from the Melrose Plantation. It was called the Isle. And this is where St. Augustine's Catholic Church is located. This St. Augustine Catholic Church, this land was donated... the church was donated by Saint Augustus, Saint Augustine. It was known as Grand-pere Augustine.

Jim Colley (04:16): Grand-pere Augustine. When was that?

Marie Dupre (04:19): [foreign language 00:04:19]. Oh, that was way back centuries ago I'd say. I don't remember the exact date, so I won't try to.

Jim Colley (04:28): I bet there was a lot of stories about him.

Marie Dupre (04:30): There was a lot of stories about him. He's buried in this cemetery. So is his wife.

Jim Colley (04:36): What kind of man was grand-pere?

Marie Dupre (04:39): Well, grand-pere was, I think from what I read about him, he came from a... He's Spanish descent, Spanish and American descent. He came from Santo Domingo, from the islands.

Jim Colley (04:58): So that whole part of Melrose and the Cane River country is interesting to me. You were talking about the Isle and the Isle got its name from a little piece of land that looked like an island down there. And now that's called the Iberville. How did that get its name?

Marie Dupre (05:19): More or less, much as I know about it, I think this portion of this cemetery and this land in there is between a bayou. There was a Bayou Brevelle. So it gets this Isle Brevelle from this bayou, from this Brevelle between Cain River, which is where the church is located on Cane River, between this and Highway 1 out at Montrose, there's a bayou. This bayou goes all the way down and falls into Cane River, down below the Isle. And then it comes all the way up and somewhere around Cypress or further than that, this bayou.

Jim Colley (06:01): So what we know is Isle Brevelle is actually the combination of two names, the name for the Isle and the name for Bayou Brevelle. That's real interesting. Ms. Dupre, we're going to take a minute for People's Bank and Trust to give us a good word. We're grateful to them for sponsoring this. We hope you'll stay listening and come back to us after this word from our sponsor.

(06:26): This is Jim Colley, and we're back visiting On Memories with Mrs. Marie Dupre. Ms. Dupre, when you grow up in families and you have parents. They always give you a lot of advice. What kind of advice do you remember getting?

Marie Dupre (06:42): Well, I remember getting advice from my father. He always said to us, "I'll send you to school, for you to be independent, for you to help yourself. And of course, I don't want you to let this land get away from you. That's yours, keep it until you die." And that we have tried to do. We still have our home place.

Jim Colley (07:06): That's quite a thing. I guess I remember my parents by the kind of advice they give, and your dad said, get that education and hold onto the land. And you did both. That's quite a thing. Education was pretty important for folks growing up then. You've been around and in education in Natchitoches Parish for a long time. And you've seen a lot of changes, I'm sure. What kind of changes have you seen that strike you as is most important?

Marie Dupre (07:38): Well, I would say that the youth of today seem to not realize that an education that will help you more than just going along without one. Course they usually say, "Oh, this person didn't have an education. He has a better job than I have." But that doesn't always hold water. I think the youth of today should try to elevate himself as high as he can and continue to do a better job after he gets an education.

Jim Colley (08:21): What do you think of all these Women's Lib movements? Describing when you went off to college and came back and started teaching you were involved in some liberated women's activities way back then.

Marie Dupre (08:35): Well, I think to a certain extent Women Lib is in its place. But I wouldn't say that in every phase of life that a woman should be taking the lead.

Jim Colley (08:54): A lot of women have kind of held the South together. When people rewrite Southern history, they talk about the women who got out, and plowed the fields, and taught the children, and cooked the meals. That was pretty much a part of life, wasn't it?

Marie Dupre (09:09): Yes.

Jim Colley (09:10): Mr. Dupre, do you ever remember seeing a car for the first time or getting to own a car? What was your earliest memory about cars?

Marie Dupre (09:20): My earliest memory about cars might've been before the 30s. I think I had a car of my own, which was a Ford. And of course, they were a lot different from the cars of today. They moved much slower. They weren't such beautiful...

Jim Colley (09:50): Didn't have all those-

Marie Dupre (09:50): Didn't have all those gadgets on them as the cars of today.

Jim Colley (09:54): Not quite as comfortable I'd guess.

Marie Dupre (09:56): No, not quite as comfortable because I'm sure they didn't have any air conditioning in it. Didn't have any heat.

Jim Colley (10:03): The air conditioning wasn't... didn't have any windows.

Marie Dupre (10:06): Didn't have any windows in [inaudible 00:10:08]...

Jim Colley (10:09): But that was quite an improvement, wasn't it?

Marie Dupre (10:11): It certainly was.

Jim Colley (10:11): Everybody needed cars if they could get them. Ms. Dupre as we finish up this time, let me ask you about the church you're a member of. Which church is that?

Marie Dupre (10:21): I said it was then called St. Joseph's Catholic Church, but the name changed after all of this transposing of the picture and all of that. Well, this changed the St. Augustine Catholic Church. And this Saint Augustine Catholic Church, I was christened there or baptized if you want to say. I made my first communion there. I was confirmed there. I was married there and on August the 16, I celebrated my 25th anniversary there.

Jim Colley (10:56): My goodness. Little parish churches like that are just kind of at the heart of everybody's life that lives around them.

Marie Dupre (11:03): And you ask about remembering how we went about funerals. In those days, the bodies were carried to the church, and they will wait at the home. Then they were carried to the church in a wagon probably drawn by mules or horses or what have you.

Jim Colley (11:23): And then the funeral service was held there in the church.

Marie Dupre (11:27): The funeral services were held in the church.

Jim Colley (11:29): And then you just walked out the door and you're right in the cemetery.

Marie Dupre (11:30): You walked out the door and you walked in a cemetery. Then probably after, after the funeral, the family went to the home and had dinner or whatever it was.

Jim Colley (11:44): But little old parish churches were real important to folks. And a lot of life got lived there.

Marie Dupre (11:50): Yes.

Jim Colley (11:50): Ms. Dupre, we're so glad we visited with you today.

Marie Dupre (11:54): Maybe I told some tales. Some of those people be calling me.

Jim Colley (11:58): Oh, they won't mind hearing those tales.

Jim Colley interviews Mrs. Marie Dupre about growing up in Natchitoches Parish, getting an education, and becoming a teacher.

75. Monroe Roberts

Transcript

Hubert Laster (00:01): This is Hubert Laster. And this morning we're visiting with Mr. Monroe Roberts. We're pleased to welcome you to the show, sir.

(00:10): Good morning.

Monroe Roberts (00:11): Oh.

Hubert Laster (00:12): You're supposed to talk.

Monroe Roberts (00:13): Yeah. Hello.

Hubert Laster (00:17): Mr. Roberts has been a minister for 55 years.

Monroe Roberts (00:23): That's right.

Hubert Laster (00:23): He's 92 years old now.

Monroe Roberts (00:25): That's right, next Saturday.

Hubert Laster (00:28): Fixing to have a birthday.

Monroe Roberts (00:29): Yeah.

Hubert Laster (00:30): We were talking earlier about your boyhood and you were going to talk to us about the way it was on the farm.

Monroe Roberts (00:40): Yeah. Well, I grew up on a farm. My father was a farmer and we thought we had a good time, but I suppose as the generation now look upon it as a hard time.

Hubert Laster (00:55): How's that?

Monroe Roberts (00:56): We knew no better. We made our own bread, syrup, produced our own milk and butter, and most everything had to come from the ground, farming. There were no money in circulation much, very little money when I grew up. We just had to make it for our own selves.

Hubert Laster (01:19): What kind of good times did you make?

Monroe Roberts (01:21): Well, the good times when we were all well, and that isn't most of the time. We didn't hardly know what a doctor was in our home. We grew up, 11 children, father and mother were pretty good doctors themselves. [inaudible 00:01:40] medicines [crosstalk 00:01:41].

Hubert Laster (01:40): Did they make their own medicines?

Monroe Roberts (01:42): No, they'd buy it in the store. Sometimes they'd make a remedy for malaria, something.

Hubert Laster (01:49): Do you remember what they made?

Monroe Roberts (01:51): Kind of a tonic, they called it. Made of a bark. Bitter bark with a little, what we call liver regulator. Or black draw.

Hubert Laster (02:00): Black draw, okay.

Monroe Roberts (02:04): Yeah.

Hubert Laster (02:04): What about school?

Monroe Roberts (02:06): Well, I remember the first day I entered school. I was five years old. That morning, that Monday morning, there's a hundred pupils there. They ran from 25 age down to five. One teacher, one auditorium. They were building near homemade, except the flooring was lumber.

Hubert Laster (02:29): Now, where was this near?

Monroe Roberts (02:31): That was Harmony community below [Provencal 00:02:33], three miles. In Ward Seven, [Natolish 00:02:37] Parish.

Hubert Laster (02:38): And what did they teach you, just the three R's?

Monroe Roberts (02:40): Well, I had different, we called it classes. They call it grades now, of course. Wanted to ask me what grade I was in, I wouldn't know what they're talking about. We called it classes. Different classes.

Hubert Laster (02:55): How far did you go? In education?

Monroe Roberts (02:58): Three months of the year is all we ever.

Hubert Laster (03:00): Three months out of the year?

Monroe Roberts (03:01): Three month of out the year. And some years, no funds, there was no school. Went sometimes two year without any school.

Hubert Laster (03:01): My goodness.

Monroe Roberts (03:10): But when we did, we got three months. And we'd get over so far in the books we had the speller, the reader, the geography, and the history. And other books and writing, and we'd get so far in the book about half, maybe the three months. They'd shove us along pretty fast and make us study them days and measure off the ball game and played at home and then home ground, but couldn't leave home for a game, but we studied and hard lessons. We took our books home with us, teacher made us take our books home, learn a lesson at home, and then the school would be out. And of course, we'd forget a lot and we'd have to come way back here. But the next three months we'd go a little further. And the next three months, the next year we could go a little further. We finally got through what we call the first history and geography and speller. And then we'd get a higher one.

Hubert Laster (04:12): Yes, sir. Well, the other nine months out of the year, you just farmed or what?

Monroe Roberts (04:16): Yes. We farmed for a living, that's right. And me and my brother walked six miles to a school the year we didn't have any. Our father, quick as we got through with our crop, we had to walk until led by the crop, we had a little gentle horse. We both rode that horse six miles when we didn't walk to school in the other community that had a school and we didn't. Yeah.

Hubert Laster (04:44): Now where was the big town then that you went to for supplies?

Monroe Roberts (04:48): Provencal.

Hubert Laster (04:48): Provencal.

Monroe Roberts (04:51): Four miles.

Hubert Laster (04:52): You went by horse and wagon?

Monroe Roberts (04:55): No. You couldn't buy a wagon there. They didn't sell wagons. We had a little nack to get our wagons, [Capon 00:05:00] Brothers wagons.

Hubert Laster (05:01): Capon Brothers?

Monroe Roberts (05:02): Yeah, my father both bought a few brand new wagons and my first recollection as long as he was able to work, drive a team of wagons.

Hubert Laster (05:14): You come from rather large family.

Monroe Roberts (05:16): Yes. 11 children of us.

Hubert Laster (05:19): But you had a bigger one, right?

Monroe Roberts (05:24): Yeah.

Hubert Laster (05:25): How many do you have?

Monroe Roberts (05:25): 12 in all.

Hubert Laster (05:28): 12 children. How'd you support them all?

Monroe Roberts (05:32): I don't know. The Lord just helped me some way, I guess. I guess something provided. Sometimes I didn't see where was the next ration was coming from, but it would be there. We wouldn't starve. We might near lived on bread and syrup or getting out of debt, getting my mortgage paid off on my place. I bought land, put it under a mortgage, till I paid for it at 10 percent interest and I had a pretty hard time getting through it. But I got us all through and we didn't starve, we done pretty good.

Hubert Laster (06:09): How much did you pay an acre for it then?

Monroe Roberts (06:11): I paid a dollar and a quarter.

Hubert Laster (06:14): Dollar and a quarter.

Monroe Roberts (06:15): For 160 acres. And I paid $500 for an improved 40 acres with virgin timber on it and a little house, a little homestead house, which is here.

Hubert Laster (06:28): Yes, sir. You were talking about in the wintertime and you had all your children around you and how y'all kept warm at night.

Monroe Roberts (06:37): Well, we kept, we had Chamblin fireplace in both ends of the house and tell you the truth, we worked most of the time to keep warm. But when we didn't and it rained and we couldn't get out at work, we'd just keep them old fires going.

Hubert Laster (06:53): Just keep those old fires going.

Monroe Roberts (06:54): Find pine knots all over the woods here and we'd cut our hardwood, billets of wood, help keep the house warm. Keep the doors closed, you keep a warm house. We didn't freeze.

Hubert Laster (07:04): I don't guess so. A lot of love, [crosstalk 00:07:06] lots of love. We need to take a break right now for a word from our sponsors. We'll be right back in just a moment. In case you've just joined us, this is Hubert Laster visiting with Mr. Monroe Roberts on the Memories program. And we were just talking about your smokehouse out in the back that you don't use anymore, but how it used to be.

Monroe Roberts (07:31): Yeah, used smoke my meat in it. Kill my hogs, salt it down, hang it up back there and smoke it. Green Hickory. Give it a good flavor. Usually putting now just boxes and barrels and things in, about all I use it for now. The old smokehouse, still have it though. Wouldn't tear it down for nothing.

Hubert Laster (07:55): You talking about those old wooden barrels?

Monroe Roberts (07:57): Yeah.

Hubert Laster (07:57): They got flour in them?

Monroe Roberts (07:59): Yeah. Flour come in them. Yeah. I have one yet.

Hubert Laster (08:04): How much flour?

Monroe Roberts (08:05): Well, there's 196 pound in a barrel.

Hubert Laster (08:08): And how much did you pay for it?

Monroe Roberts (08:12): I bought two barrels once for $3 and 75 cents a barrel, 196 to the barrel. Pound.

Hubert Laster (08:21): Prices have changed, I think.

Monroe Roberts (08:22): Yeah. So.

Hubert Laster (08:24): You saw the first roads in this parish, didn't you?

Monroe Roberts (08:28): Saw what?

Hubert Laster (08:28): The first black top roads?

Monroe Roberts (08:30): Oh yeah, yes. Not too long ago in this community.

Hubert Laster (08:34): How was it before then?

Monroe Roberts (08:35): Well, it was a gravel road before that, then before that a graded road. And then first of all, my first recollection, just an old road without a grader on it or anything else.

Hubert Laster (08:46): Who did the repairs on it?

Monroe Roberts (08:48): The citizens, community worked their own road. The old system with no pay. Had an oversharer party, some of his hands, you got them out there, spade and access to other things, cross cut saws, and we worked the roads so wagons could get over.

Hubert Laster (09:08): What about when you hit a bayou or something like that?

Monroe Roberts (09:11): Well, if there was no bridge at all, we tried to make the ford as good as we could on both sides so that sometimes they had to swim in, if they had a horseback, even with a wagon [crosstalk 00:09:26] swimming across it before there was no bridge.

Hubert Laster (09:30): Did you cut the wood and make a bridge if possible?

Monroe Roberts (09:34): The parish would build a bridge. Even my first recollection, if it was extreme in its size, contract it out to somebody that knew how to make a bridge across the streams and the parish would pay for that.

Hubert Laster (09:50): What about holes in the road? How'd you repair them?

Monroe Roberts (09:52): [crosstalk 00:09:52] fill them up with spades, pine tops, and dirt on them with spades. Build them up so the wagons could get over. And there's plenty of them too, I want to tell you.

Hubert Laster (09:52): Lots of them.

Monroe Roberts (10:03): Lots of them.

Hubert Laster (10:05): I guess those little wagons just made holes, huh?

Monroe Roberts (10:07): Yes. Yeah. Yeah. It cut down. It was narrow, it was narrow you know.

Hubert Laster (10:07): Uh-huh (affirmative).

Monroe Roberts (10:12): It's called a butcher knife wagon just because they're narrow tire. See, that's where they're making them wider later on, but my first recollection is narrower and narrower and they'd cut down, go hub deep-

Hubert Laster (10:28): Yes, sir.

Monroe Roberts (10:29): [crosstalk 00:10:29] right in the center of the wheel. And you're almost hub deep. Mule and oxen. My first riding in wagon, an ox wagon, I went to church in an ox wagon.

Hubert Laster (10:43): Tell me something. Were those old springboard seats, were they comfortable or was it more comfortable to ride in the back?

Monroe Roberts (10:48): In where? In the school house you mean?

Hubert Laster (10:50): No, on the butt boards. Wagons.

Monroe Roberts (10:54): Oh, well my father and mother would always have a spring seat front. We'd sit down in the wagon and about three hours, take the end gate out. We was going to church or anywhere else, hang our feet out. We can jump out if we wanted to, play around and gather flower, and come jump back in, that ox was going, tugging along.

Hubert Laster (11:14): Pretty slow.

Monroe Roberts (11:15): Oh, we had a lot of fun.

Hubert Laster (11:17): Were the oxen a little slow?

Monroe Roberts (11:19): No, they'd walk on along. You could hurry them or you could slow them up either one. Well, I had a yokel option train and you'd have a little rope on them. Speak to them like one of us, and they'd mind it. Yes sir.

Hubert Laster (11:31): Well, besides church, what were big occasions back in those days?

Monroe Roberts (11:37): Well, the school and the church was the main things with us.

Hubert Laster (11:43): What about holidays?

Monroe Roberts (11:45): Well, we'd always take off holidays unless it was Thanksgiving sometime we would Thanksgiving, but my father wouldn't make us work on Fourth of July unless we wanted to. Ever so far behind at our work, he let us off the Fourth of July if we wanted to get off. That was the main day with us.

Hubert Laster (11:45): And Christmas?

Monroe Roberts (12:03): Christmas is the biggest day of all, greatest day of all, Christmas Day. And we looked forward to that from one year to the next. Felt it would never come when we were growing up because we looked forward to hanging up our sock and Santa Claus coming down the chimney and filling it up for us.

Hubert Laster (12:24): And he always did.

Monroe Roberts (12:25): Always did. Well, we thought it was Santa Claus. We didn't know any better and we would have surely been hurt if somebody that said there wasn't no Santa Claus.

Hubert Laster (12:35): I guess so. Did you celebrate Thanksgiving then?

Monroe Roberts (12:39): Well, not particularly as I spoke a while ago, like we did Christmas and Fourth of July. I don't know why. Everybody doesn't, seeing it's a great beginning and a great holiday for America if we just come to know it and appreciate it, like we ought to Thanksgiving Day. The last Thursday in November is the day that in 1620 our Pilgrim fathers landed, I believe and began settlement of America.

Hubert Laster (13:14): How many were there?

Monroe Roberts (13:16): 101, they left on the Mayflower from England. Of the 101, one man died on board and one was born. So it threw over the same amount as they landed as they left with.

Hubert Laster (13:34): And from that time until now it's still growing.

Monroe Roberts (13:41): Oh yeah, yeah. I guess it is. I guess it is. I guess it is. I think our country leads the world in most everything, America. We certainly have been blessed, doubly blessed because it was a good start. Our Pilgrim fathers come seeking, not wealth, but they were seeking God.

Hubert Laster (14:11): And they found him.

Monroe Roberts (14:11): They found him. And we've been here ever since and this country has moved along faster in progress than any nation under the shining sun because of that.

Hubert Laster (14:23): Didn't you tell me that you received a special award for preaching?

Monroe Roberts (14:29): Yeah. I'll show you that in a few minutes, I have it up there on a wall.

Hubert Laster (14:31): What was it for now?

Monroe Roberts (14:33): Well, they gave me one, the first one was a honor day, where they gave me $700 in cash besides other things. And all of them gathered in the little church I serve here in the community. Then my birthday just followed that and the state, from even headquarters, [Alexandra 00:14:53], were some state men here with five churches and their pastors here, gave me a celebration day for my birthday. Two in too much time.

Hubert Laster (15:03): And that's for being a minister of the gospel for 55 years.

Monroe Roberts (15:08): Yeah. Yeah, that's right.

Hubert Laster (15:09): And you're 92 now.

Monroe Roberts (15:10): That's right, that's right.

Hubert Laster (15:12): So quick arithmetic, that's, you've been doing it since you were 33.

Monroe Roberts (15:15): Yeah, that's right. I believe it's 33.

Hubert Laster (15:19): Mr. Roberts, we've enjoyed visiting with you.

Hubert Laster interviews Monroe Roberts about growing up in Natchitoches Parish in a farming family, attending school, and preaching.

74. Minnie Lee Odum

Transcript

Dan Banuska: Today we travel back in time with Ms. Minnie Lee Odom after this message from Peoples Bank, our sponsor. Ms. Odom, we are very happy to have you with us on Memories this morning. Could you tell us a little bit about your own personal history, where you grew up and about your family?

Minnie Lee Odum: Well, I grew up partially in Catahoula Parish, it was then, it's now LaSalle Parish between Tullos and Urania is where I was born. But we were very unfortunate there in losing my... typhoid fever that so many people did have in those days, we lost my oldest sister on the second day of August, and then following on the 24th day of September, the next month we lost my mother. And so at the time of that, that I had already taken down with the fever myself, but we had the doctor that rode by the house and he'd come in and I had gotten to where I could walk, but by being almost propped, because it takes all the strength out of your limbs, you just don't have any strength left hardly. And so then that was why that first spell I had was just after my sister had passed away and then my mother was living, but then my mother had it also and I was up so I could just walk around.

Dan Banuska: So you were the nurse really in the family.

Minnie Lee Odum: Yes, and my father and one older brother and one younger brother.

Dan Banuska: What time in history are we talking about?

Minnie Lee Odum: Well, that would've been almost 1905. It was around in 1905 that we lost my mother and my sister.

Dan Banuska: That was quite common then, too.

Minnie Lee Odum: Yes. Oh, yes. So many people and so many of our young people passed away that we knew so well and that were friends of my older sister, especially. She was six years older than I was and I had a brother and then I had lost a little brother just with the childhood. So people not understanding conditions, some troubles and all the children had, my mother used to say, if we'd known then as we knew even when I was a child, we could have saved my little brother, but had the doctor, and didn't know how to treat him.

Dan Banuska: What was the treatment that they gave at that time?

Minnie Lee Odum: Well, for the malaria it was calomel and quinine. And I learned to do that about as good as any of them did because my father did it. And if he had to be gone, because he was a very busy man there being... we were 10 children, we were not quite all living at the same time because we'd lost my little brother before I was born. He was just older than I was.

And by this time, the 10 had been born, the time had come on and my youngest sister now was not a year old when my mother and sister passed away. And so it meant that my father had many responsibilities. He had the farm and we never did have... well, we never did have colored people on our farm at all. It was done by white people, but you couldn't get real reliable white people. When I say they didn't always live up to their word, you'd have just verbal understandings.

And we always had the family store next to us and did the furnishing there and for the people in the surrounding area. So they would get on time, they'd call it on time, put it on the book. And I could, and it doesn't sound like much now, but I have a book where it's over $6,000 that was put on the book that never was paid. Not 1 cent of it at all.

Dan Banuska: What kind of wages were people making at that time?

Minnie Lee Odum: Oh, that was 50 cents a day and money was a real good rate.

Dan Banuska: What could you buy in 50 cents at that time?

Minnie Lee Odum: Oh, of course, the truth about it is if you took care of things, you didn't buy very much. We didn't buy anything except coffee and flour and sugar. We raised everything else that we ate, all the potatoes and all the vegetables and we canned. I remember when we had the first canning machine, we used to put in jars, but we had a canner that we did it at home. And then we could have anything, you see. But you can't can everything by jars. I learned a great deal then that there's botulism that comes in and you can't get the germs that would grow in certain foods by just cooking it in open flame. You had to have pressure.

And it was only when we had pressure that we could save, for instance, butter beans. They just couldn't be kept. My own eating, it wouldn't have mind, it wouldn't have been bad. But some people just think if they don't have butter beans, they're missed a great deal. Well, my father did that. He got the families working on the place and we had about usually four or five families. And that meant that they used our stock. We had the stock and fed them and took care of them because everything was the one horse plow. It was all done in that way. And then with the hole that you hold, there were no cultivators.

In fact, Papa put in the little cultivators that we had that had to be mule-drawn. We had mules and we'd a pair of them to draw to do this. Cultivating have all the little plows that went along and not only in the hills, in the upright parts, right where the seed was planted, but in the middles too, cultivate that, and keep the grass down. And then my father was an estimate of timber. He could go ride through the woods and see some timber. I can see him now and I've ridden with him a lot of times. I liked it. And I have some land now in Winn Parish that we used to go over to see about it. And he had looked at that tree and he'd said, there's so many board feet in that tree.

Dan Banuska: That's a real art, isn't it?

Minnie Lee Odum: Uh-huh. Yes. And he knew that. So he estimated timber for the Urania lumber company at that time. That was something. And everybody in that section knows that certain people that I could name their names this morning. I had the experience not very many years ago, and my second brother who was living where he is now, that we went over and one of the Harteners was there. And while you just thought we had been childhood playmates all the time, he says, oh, we're so glad to have you all come in. Let me get these old pictures down here that used to be made when you all walked from that place up to Urania to where we went to school about three months in the summertime.

Dan Banuska: Let me interrupt you at this moment for a message from our sponsor, Peoples Bank. Once again, this is Dan Banuska and we are talking with Ms. Minnie Lee Odum on Memories.

Minnie Lee Odum: Well, of course, in taking care of everything, everything that you ate, all the vegetables, and we had vegetables the year round. We didn't just have vegetables in the spring and let it go down, but there had to be your collards or your winter cabbage and there had to be onions. And then your fall potatoes and the sweet potatoes of course had to be dug before the frost fell too much. They couldn't get bitten by the frost and we'd bank them so we'd have potatoes until all through the whole winter. And then-

Dan Banuska: What does banking potatoes mean?

Minnie Lee Odum: Banking, well, you fix a good a spot and have dirt in there and then put a lot of hay down and then start putting the potatoes in and getting it filled up. It was in like a wigwam in that shape. And just wigwams aren't there to fill them up to a point. And then they'd put more hay and then have boards that you'd lay against that and get them all covered up well, and then dirt would be shoveled and put over that and leave one place right in the front where you could always get in and get out your potatoes.

Dan Banuska: So farming and living then was a real art. You had to make sure that you had vegetables and fruit for the whole year.

Minnie Lee Odum: Yes, because it wouldn't do, we all knew that you couldn't live without vegetables. That's the most we knew about it, didn't know much of the composition. It was after then that I studied foods and learned of proteins and carbohydrates and fats and the minerals and the vitamins and all that came later. But there was something built up in my father and mother that just knew that had that through their lives, that they had to have fresh vegetables and they had to have meat. But instead of having a market that you went to, there were no markets. I know at that time, if there were any in Alexandria and Monroe, they were the closest ones. I'm not quite certain if there'd be any there because when we got beef, we only got beef two or three times a year. And then my father was always fattening a yearling, getting it, put it up and feed plenty of corn and the hay and all that it needed, and then killed that and divided it out among the people in the community because-

Dan Banuska: So the beef then had to be-

Minnie Lee Odum: Killed at home.

Dan Banuska: Killed and distributed and eaten immediately.

Minnie Lee Odum: Yes, it did, because there was no way of keeping it. But then the pork was different because it could be-

Dan Banuska: I'm going to interrupt you at that time because I want you to tell the story of pork on the next Memories. But before we conclude this Memories, I want you to tell briefly the first time that you tasted iced tea.

Minnie Lee Odum: Yes.

Dan Banuska: You tell me that story.

Minnie Lee Odum: Well, we had some friends who we hadn't known them so very long, but we were invited there, my older sister to have dinner with them one evening and with Mary and Ida. Name's gone from me. But anyway, it was something. Of course, I was all eyes, I always was, if anything food was about. And so when they had put this ice in their glasses, and of course, we had plenty of water from cisterns that had been made perfectly clean by somebody going on a rope down and washing them out and catching the cold water and it was snowing at the time, and we kept our cold water that way, but there was no ice. And anytime we had ice, it would be when people were very sick and maybe we could get the train to stop and let you have a piece of ice off of the train. But I tell you, their father was a Section Foreman and they could get ice. And so when they served us tea and we drank it, but I couldn't say that we were so very fond of it.

Dan Banuska: That was something that we, I guess, take for granted today having ice. Ms. Odum, it's been my pleasure having you on Memories today. And like I said, I plan to have you back again and we're going to talk about a story that you told about pork. We would like to close each Memories program with information that might be of particular value to the senior citizens.

If a taxpayer was blind at the end of a tax year, he is entitled to an additional exemption of $750. Let me repeat that. If a taxpayer was blind at the end of a tax year, he's entitled to an additional exemption of $750. If you have any further questions about this matter, please stop by and talk to the folks at Peoples Bank. They'll be glad to have you out.

I have a personal favor to ask of you. If you like Memories, call the people of Peoples Bank, or better yet, stop by and tell them personally. If you are over 60 and you have some memories you'd like to share with your friends in Natchitoches, call Peoples Bank 352-6404 or 352-8343. Or call KNOC, 352-9596. Or you can also call the Retired Senior Volunteer Office, 352-8647.

Dan Benuska interviews Minnie Lee Odum about growing up in Catahoula Parish, typhoid fever, managing a farm, canning, collecting timber, banking potatoes, and the first time she tasted iced tea.

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