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Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

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  • Karen Venable
    I can t speak for everyone, but I certainly Do want to hear the stories. ________________________________ From: Jewel Casey To:
    Message 1 of 63 , Jun 18, 2013
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      I can't speak for everyone, but I certainly Do want to hear the stories.



      ________________________________
      From: Jewel Casey <jcasey@...>
      To: jacksongenealogy@yahoogroups.com
      Sent: Monday, June 17, 2013 2:16 PM
      Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

       
      Well, you Jerry I have enjoyed reading each and every one of these stories so very much. I tend not to get upset over anyone's memories because I might remember something different than someone else or not remember it at all. I'll be 82 years old tomorrow and think my memory is excellent, but who knows? I'm thinking about writing a book on my childhood also but have no ides what I would call it. Perhaps "Stumping My Toes." Yep, because that's what I did when Mama had me walk about a mile to our landlord's house to pick up the milk she had earned for us to drink all week by doing their washing every Monday morning! It took my Mama all day to do their washing to earn our milk for one week and so I was chosen to go bring the milk home at dusky dark every afternoon and my brothers would way lay me and scare the daylights out of me until Mama caught on and whipped the daylights out of them. I would come home crying with blood running out of my toes, trying to
      hold on to a big jug of milk with both arms, and I never dropped any because I didn't want a whipping. One of my brothers would start moaning like a ghost or crying like a wild cat then go home and lie like a yellow dog and swear they didn't do it. Well, I'm sure ya'll don't want to hear all this ????.
      Jewel
      ----- Original Message -----
      From: Jerry Triplett
      To: mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com
      Sent: Saturday, June 15, 2013 4:06 PM
      Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

      I started this particular discussion about sharecroppers several days ago and have enjoyed reading the various posts from several different people. But this particular post seems to have gone a little far from the purpose of Jackson County genealogy. Here is why.

      Kenneth Thomas is not very mean these days. He is in a nursing home in Chattanooga having lost both legs to diabetes. I don't know whether Roy is still mean or not; I'll try to remember to ask him the next time I talk to him. As far as Lindsay is concerned he has been dead for several years. Carl, well, I'll start looking for him in mine shafts.

      And Fred, the barber, next time I see him here in Chattanooga, I'll mention to him one of his long ago satisfied customers.

      But back to my point. Perhaps such banter about people that are (or could be) alive is better carried in other places.

      Jerry T in Chattanooga

      -----Original Message-----
      From: cagle8185 <mailto:cagle8185%40aol.com>
      To: jacksongenealogy <mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com>
      Sent: Sat, Jun 15, 2013 12:03 pm
      Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

      I was in school at Bridgeport in 1955 and in the 10th grade. Many of the stories in "My Boyhood Memories", I can relate to.

      Kenneth Thomas had a older brother Roy Huge Thomas and they were both mean.

      The old house and the broom factory were across the street from the school. It was not locked and we slipped in there one rainy Sunday afternoon. Ever thing was just like it was when it was abandon. It was a very spooky place. There were tails about its history but I will not go into that.

      Did you ever hear the name Puter Garner. He lived in Oram and was a big gambler about that time. The Thomas boys had a uncle named Carl Thomas. Carl was at Garner place gambling and was accused of cheating. He puled a gun, took his money and left. He was never seen again. Stories were he was at the bottom of one of the old coal mine shafts.

      Did "Fred" cut your flat top? He was the best and there were only three barbers in town.

      When your mom took a taxi to Chattanooga she had to use another uncle of the Thomas boys because he had the only taxi in town.

      My dad also worked for TVA at the same time as your dad.

      I could go on but you covered the times very well.

      Bill Cagle

      -----Original Message-----
      From: rayburnhall <mailto:rayburnhall%40comcast.net>
      To: jacksongenealogy <mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com>
      Sent: Thu, Jun 13, 2013 10:03 pm
      Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

      http://rayburnchall.blogspot.com/

      The link above should connect you to My Boyhood Memories.

      From: Regina Pipes
      Sent: Thursday, June 13, 2013 9:11 PM
      To: mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com
      Subject: RE: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

      Yep, we all would like the link.

      From: mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com [mailto:mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of mailto:rayburnhall%40comcast.net
      Sent: Thursday, June 13, 2013 3:44 PM
      To: mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com
      Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

      I didn’t publish the book. I made about 20 copies and gave it to family members. I have a copy of it on a Blog if you would like a link to it.

      From: T'Lene Tillotson
      Sent: Thursday, June 13, 2013 11:14 AM
      To: mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com <mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com>;;
      Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South

      This is wonderful. Where can I purchase a copy?

      On Jun 13, 2013, at 7:27 AM, <mailto:rayburnhall%40comcast.net>;; wrote:

      > I grew up in Jackson County Alabama, part of the time on Sand Mountain, part of the time in Stevenson and Bridgeport until I was 19 years old. A few years ago I wrote an autobiography covering those years. The Clarion of Jackson County publishes one of my stories each month about growing up on Sand Mountain.
      >
      > From: Karl Plenge
      > Sent: Wednesday, June 12, 2013 9:53 PM
      > To: mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com
      > Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South
      >
      > I am really enjoying this current dialogue and finding something about it that is both ironic and fantastic at the same time - here everyone is, sharing their stories of growing up poor on computers and the Internet!
      >
      > The thing that is truly fantastic about it is that, as was mentioned a day or two ago, this information will be lost if those of you who experienced it don't share it, and rather than being stuck away in someone's notebook or filing cabinet where no one else has access to it, it will forever (hopefully) be available on the World Wide Web where anyone who does develop the inclination to want to know can find it.
      >
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      No virus found in this message.
      Checked by AVG - www.avg.com
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    • SUE
      thanks for the memories
      Message 63 of 63 , Jun 19, 2013
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        thanks for the memories

        --- In jacksongenealogy@yahoogroups.com, "CULBERSON, SUSAN" <sc1698@...> wrote:
        >
        > What a fantastic view into your childhood! Thanks so very much for sharing!
        >
        > From: jacksongenealogy@yahoogroups.com [mailto:jacksongenealogy@yahoogroups.com] On Behalf Of rayburnhall@...
        > Sent: Tuesday, June 11, 2013 10:42 PM
        > To: jacksongenealogy@yahoogroups.com
        > Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South
        >
        >
        >
        > Rayburn Casey Hall
        >
        > Every year when September rolls around my memory goes back to a job I had every fall while growing up in Jackson County Alabama on Sand Mountain. I picked cotton to earn money for winter school clothes. I know most people that picked cotton would rather forget the experience but I really enjoy thinking about my life in that period in the 1950's. I learned some valuable lessons in work ethics and it help me appreciate life today.
        >
        > The majority of the farms on Sand Mountain were small and the cotton could be picked by the members of the family. But the larger farmers with small families would hire other families to pick their cotton crops. Daddy wasn't a farmer but drove a truck and this gave my family the opportunity to hire out to pick cotton for other farmers.
        >
        > Picking cotton is back breaking work because you have to stay bent over at the waist dragging a sack behind you with 60 or 70 pounds of cotton in it all day. Those people that had weak backs had to crawl along the cotton rows on their knees because they couldn't stay bent over all day.
        >
        > Cotton grows inside a round hard ball about the size of a golf ball called a cotton boll until it matures. In early Fall the bolls began to open exposing the locks of cotton. After the boll opens and dries, it is called a cotton burr and has about 4 or 5 sharp spurs on it. The hands of a picker stay sore from sticking his fingers with the sharp tips all season.
        >
        > Saw briars and cuckle burrs were a menace that pickers had to contend with in the cotton patch. The saw briars would cut your legs and the cuckle burrs would stick to your clothes and cotton sack and the cotton itself. Picking cotton in a field overgrown with cuckle burrs could really be a sticky mess.
        >
        > But the one thing that would ruin your day was to get stung with a Pack Saddle. The Pack Saddle is a worm that is beautiful in color with a design on its back that looks like a saddle. The worm loves cotton leaves almost as much as the boil weevil loves the cotton boll. Getting stung by the little worm was a very painful experience and just hearing about someone else getting stung slowed your cotton picking down tremendously.
        >
        > When the cotton picking season begins the weather in the mornings are pleasant but the temperatures are Summer like during the afternoons and evenings. Later in the season the temperatures can be quite cool in the mornings even to the point of frost being formed on the cotton. By this time the days are getting shorter and cotton prices are dropping and you can't wait until mid morning to hit the fields when the temperatures are warmer. If the cotton isn't picked during the Fall because of too many rainy days the pickers are still in the fields in the Winter. I have picked cotton with ice on the ground and it spitting snow.
        >
        > The best cotton pickers pick 300 or 400 pounds a day. You were paid by the pound and the rate ranged from $1.00 to $3.00 per hundred pounds. Because all the cotton bolls don't open at the same time, pickers had to go back over the field several times a season. The rate of pay was based on whether the cotton was being picked the first, second or third time. The first time the cotton was harvested it was heavier and there may be a half a dozen bolls on the stalk and you received less per pound. But by the third or fourth picking the cotton was dry and had maybe one boll to a stalk.
        >
        > But I remember the good times I had picking cotton in spite of the hard work. It was a time my family worked together to make money for the entire family. We all pitched in and did what we could to help out. My sister took care of the baby at the end of the cotton rows under a shade tree but sometimes it would ride on one of our cotton sacks through the fields. The children old enough to walk but not big enough to drag a sack full of cotton walked along side one of us and picked cotton and put it in our sacks. Society would be ready to scorn my parents for this today but they raised six children and neither one of us can imagine how to make a living without performing honest work for it today.
        >
        > I remember finding watermelons in the cotton rows and we would all sit down to take a break and rest our backs and eat the melon. There was always a water boy that carried ice cold water throughout the field in a jug or water bucket to the hands. The water was a great thirst quencher but there was no comparison to an ice cold Coke or RC during an afternoon break. This was a time when a Cola was a treat and everybody didn't substitute water with them.
        >
        > Lunch was always a special time while working in the cotton fields. If you worked for a small farmer and he had only a few hands working for him his wife would cook dinner for everyone in his home. But I enjoyed eating lunch in the fields the most. This meant we got a rare treat for lunch. You may laugh but a bologna or potted meat sandwich and Pork N Beans and a Cola was something we rarely got when I was a kid. And then there was the time after dinner when you could lay under a big Oak tree with a cool breeze and rest until work time. But I was like most children, I didn't know what being tired and resting was so I joined the other kids playing until work time.
        >
        > From my description of the work in picking cotton I suppose you would never think of it being a romantic place to meet the opposite sex but this happen to a lot of people. The boys would rush to get the cotton row by a pretty girl and the amount of cotton picked depended on how much the girl could pick. If she picked a lot of cotton the boy had to work hard to keep up and stay beside her. If she was slow very little cotton was picked by either person.
        >
        > There was always a contest to see who could pick the most cotton by the end of the day. The owner usually was involved in getting these races started. One such owner got my brother and me in a contest that I will never forget. He promised the winner that he could go to his apple orchard and pick all the apples that he could carry back home. I won the contest and got the privilege of gathering the apples and carrying them home. A few years later I realized something was funny about the contest. My brother ate as many apples as I did and that was the only time I remember ever beating him in picking cotton.
        >
        > After filling the sacks up the cotton pickers would carry them to a truck or a wagon located in the middle of the field to be weighed and emptied. Some farmers still used mules to pull the wagons but I rarely saw this in 1957. Some times if it was a big farmer and he had a lot of hands picking cotton he would pay someone extra to empty the sacks. When I got older I had the pleasure of making a few extra dollars this way. But most of the time the young stronger boys emptied the sacks for the women and older men because it was common courtesy and expected.
        >
        > Another part of the job of picking cotton I enjoyed was going to the cotton gin. Some times a farmer would hire Daddy to deliver his load of cotton to the gin and if it was after work time he would let my brother and I go with him. It was a thrill to two young boys to ride on a load of cotton in the back of a wagon or truck. If it was after dark and the weather was cool we would burrow ourselves in the cotton to keep warm. We always had to wait in a long line and this gave us the opportunity to play with the other boys waiting in line to unload their cotton.
        >
        > Some times Daddy would let my brother and me help unload the cotton. The cotton was vacuumed out of the truck by a big metal pipe that sucked the cotton into the cotton gin machinery. We were always warned to never lose any thing out of our pockets in the cotton because it would cause the gin to catch on fire. After unloading the cotton Daddy would let us go into the gin with him to wait on our load to be bailed and weighed. It was really amazing to watch the cotton going through the machinery being stretched, pulled and shredded to remove the seeds and trash.
        >
        > And then the day finally came when we could take all the money that we had saved up from picking cotton and go to town and spend it. We would buy new clothes, shoes and a winter coat. After we bought everything we needed we would go to a restaurant and eat a hamburger and drink a Coke. If we had enough money left, we would go to see a movie after we ate dinner.
        >
        > When I retired a few years ago I had a great job with an office of my own. And in my office I had a cotton burr hanging over a plaque given to me by the organization that I am employed by for hard work and dedication. When people asked me about the cotton burr I told them the cotton burr represent my first job and I hope the plaque represent my last job until retirement.
        >
        > From: Larry Williams
        > Sent: Tuesday, June 11, 2013 8:19 PM
        > To: jacksongenealogy@yahoogroups.com<mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com>
        > Subject: Re: [jacksongenealogy] Re: Sharecroppers and Other Tales of the South
        >
        > Back then the bologna came in long sticks and we used to call it "cotton
        > picking bologna". Never knew if there was a brand called that or it was
        > called that because they took it to the fields.
        > Larry Williams
        >
        > On Tue, Jun 11, 2013 at 4:20 PM, gary_bsanders <mailto:gbs0010%40gmail.com> wrote:
        >
        > > **
        > >
        > >
        > > I, too, was given a small "tow sack" when I was about four years old and
        > > allowed to pick cotton with my parents in the fields. I remember how
        > > impressed I was with the amount I picked that day, only to be told later
        > > that I was supposed to separate the cotton from the boll. The best part of
        > > the day was when we ate a bologna sandwich (or sometimes sardines and
        > > crackers) for lunch. My little sister once got lost in the cotton field and
        > > my parents had to search frantically for her until they found her, all safe
        > > and sound.
        > >
        > > Although my parents owned their own small farm, financially they were not
        > > much better off than sharecroppers. When the cotton crops came in every
        > > year, they would travel to other counties and work as hired pickers for
        > > farmers who grew cotton. Our family usually lived in rooms provided by the
        > > families that employed us. I think this type of arrangement was pretty
        > > common in those days. This was in the late 1940s in East Texas.
        > > --Gary
        > >
        > > --- In mailto:jacksongenealogy%40yahoogroups.com, blackcloud27030@ wrote:
        > > >
        > > > While my parents were not sharecroppers (they and my Granny worked in
        > > the mills) they did pick cotton for others on the weekends in order to earn
        > > extra cash. I remember when I was 4 or 5 years old going with them to the
        > > cotton fields, they gave me a kid size bag and I had to reach up to pick
        > > the the cotton, only earned 5 cents or so but that was my first cash money.
        > > Was I proud!
        > > >
        > > > My Mother said when they were working in the mills in late 1920s early
        > > 1930s they earned $1.00 per 10 hour day, 6 days a week! The mills provided
        > > cheap housing, what was know as "shotgun" houses for the mill workers who
        > > did not have a house.
        > > >
        > > >
        > > > As far as going barefoot we went barefoot year round only wearing shoes
        > > in the winter when it got too cold to go barefoot. We usually got a new
        > > pair of shoes and two sets of new clothes at the start of the new school
        > > year.
        > > >
        > > >
        > > > What is a shame it is that all these stories we have told on this group
        > > about what it was like growing up in the South in times past will be gone
        > > when we are gone as you won't find them in history books and none that they
        > > use in the schools today, they only teach the official history. IF they are
        > > not told on here, where will they be told? They are part of our oral
        > > history and should be told and remembered.
        > > >
        > > >
        > > > There are so many questions that I would like to have asked my
        > > grandparents and parents about what it was like in the late 1880s and the
        > > early 1900s and now they are all gone.
        > > >
        > > >
        > > > I remember my Granny saying the first auto that came up on Sand Mountain
        > > that the livestock went crazy with fear the cows and horses and other
        > > livestock running all over the place trying to get away. The time she said
        > > she hated worse was in the late spring with they killed the young male
        > > lambs that their crying when they hung them up to cut their necks was when
        > > she would run to the woods so as not to hear their crying.
        > > >
        > > >
        > > > Clay
        > > >
        > > >
        > > > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
        > > >
        > >
        > >
        > >
        >
        > --
        > Larry G. Williams
        > Co-Director, Agrimissions
        > 43 Crisp Lane
        > Trenton, GA 30752
        > (706) 657-7778 Home
        > (423) 240-2089 Cell/Business
        > mailto:agrimissions.williams%40gmail.com
        > mailto:lgwilliams1947%40gmail.com
        > http://agrimissions.com
        > http://themissionsociety.org
        >
        > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
        >
        > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
        >
        >
        >
        > [Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
        >
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