Henry Nelson
From:
Arkansas
Interviewer: Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed: Henry Nelson
904 E. Fifth Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age: About 70
"My name is Henry Nelson. I was born in Arkansas--Crittenden County near
Memphis, Tennessee. I was born not far from Memphis but on this side.
"My mother's name was Adeline Taylor. That was her old slavery folks'
name. She was a Taylor before she married my father--Nelson. My father's
first name was Green. I don't remember none of my grandparents. My
father's mother died before I come to remember and I know my mother's
mother died before I could remember.
"My father was born in Mississippi--Sardis, Mississippi--and my mother
was a Tennesseean--Cartersville[HW:?] Tennessee, twenty-five miles
above Memphis. [HW: Carter, in Carter County, about 35 m. north of
Memphis, but no Cartersville.] [TR: moved from bottom of following
page.]
"After peace was declared, they met in Tennessee. That was where my
mother was born, you know. They fell in love with one another in Shelby
County, and married there. My mother had been married once before during
slavery time. She had been made to marry by her master. Her first
husband was named Eli. He was my oldest sister's father. Him and my
mother had the same master and missis. She was made to marry him. She
was only thirteen years old when she married him. She was fine and stout
and her husband was fine and stout, and they wanted more from that
stock. I don't know how old he was but he was a lot older than she was.
He was a kind of an elderly man. She had just one child by him--my
oldest sister, Georgia. She was only married a short time before freedom
came.
"My father farmed. He was always a farmer--raised cotton and corn. My
mother was a farmer too. Both of them--that is both of her
husbands--were farmers.
"My mother and father used to go off to places to dance and the
pateroles would get after them. You had to have a pass to go off your
place and if you didn't have a pass, they would make you warm. Some of
them would get caught sometimes and the pateroles would whip them. They
would sure got whipped if they didn't have a pass.
"The old master come out and told them they were free when peace was
declared. He said, 'You are free this morning--free as I am.'
"Right after the War, my mother come further down in Tennessee, and that
is how she met my father where she was when she was married. They went
farming. They farmed on shares--sharecropped. They were on a big place
called Ensley place. The man that owned the place was called Nuck
Ensley.
"My mother and father didn't have no schooling. I never heard that they
were bothered by the Ku Klux.
"She didn't live with her first husband after slavery. She left him when
she was freed. She never did intend to marry him. She was forced to
that."
Interviewer's Comment
Nelson evidently rents rooms. A yellow sallow-faced, cadaverous, and
dissatisfied looking "gentleman" went into the house eyeing me
suspiciously as he passed. In a moment he was out again interrupting the
old man with pointless remarks. In--out again--standing over me--peering
on my paper in the offensive way that ill-bred people have. He
straightened up with a disgusted look on his face. He couldn't read
shorthand.
"What's that you're writin'?"
"Shorthand."
"What's that about?"
"History."
"History uv whut?"
"Slavery."
"He don't know nothin' about slavery."
"Thank you. However, if he says he does, I'll just continue to listen to
him if you don't mind."
"Humph," and the "yellow gentleman" passed in.
Out again--eyeing both the old man and me with disgust that was
unconcealed. To him, "You don't know whutchu're doin'."
Deep silence by all. Exit the yellow brother.
To the old man, I said, "Is that your son?"
"Lawd, no, that's jus' a roomer."
Out came the yellow brother again. "See here, Uncle, if you want me to
fix that fence you'd bettuh come awn out heah now. It's gettin' dark."
I closed my notebook and arose. "Don't let me interfere with your
program, Brother Nelson."
The old man settled back in his chair. His eyes inspected the sky, his
jaw "sorta" set. The yellow brother looked at him a minute and passed
on.
Five minutes later. Enter, the Madam. She also was of the yellow variety
with the suspicious and spiteful look of an undersized black Belgian
police dog. A moment of silence--a word to him.
"You don't know whutchu're doin'." Silence all around. To me, "You're
upsettin' my work."
I arose. "Madam, I'm sorry."
The old man spoke, "You ain't keepin' me from nothin'."
"Well, I said, you've given me a nice start; I'll come again and get the
rest."
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Henry Nelson
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Emaline Neland
