RL00170-CS-0645_01
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Sonya Ramsey | Testing, testing, testing. Mr. Francis, could you describe the area where you grew up? | 0:20 |
Eddie Francis | I grew up in an area called Delmar. It's in Enfield. And where I grew up, it used to be a mill there called the Delmar Mill years ago. And when the mill moved out, it was seven men in the area, all Black. They got together and they purchased the entire section, which was about 2300 acres of land. And at that time, it was the largest track of land known, in this area, to be purchased by Blacks at that time. | 0:32 |
Sonya Ramsey | And that was the 1920s? | 1:06 |
Eddie Francis | Yes. They purchased it in 1926. | 1:10 |
Sonya Ramsey | Okay. How did your family come to live in Delmar? Do you remember that? Anything about that? | 1:13 |
Eddie Francis | My grandfather used to run a commissary at that mill. And when the mill moved out, he was interested in acquiring some of the land, and he purchased it from some of the original owners who purchased it, and he bought several tracks of land. And he was able to eventually purchase enough that he felt he had a comfortable farm that he could provide for 14 children, large families in those days, on a farm. It was a way of survival, because the more help you had, the more land you could acquire. | 1:22 |
Sonya Ramsey | Do you have any special remembrances of your grandfather? | 2:04 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, I sure do. My grandfather, he was a terrific man. He was one of the hardest working men that I've ever known in my life. And he was up in the morning before anybody else, working. And when everybody else had quit and gone to bed at night, he was still working. He always said five hours of sleep is enough for anybody. If you got more than that, you were missing out on something. And that's the way he worked all the time. And he lived until 1973. | 2:07 |
Sonya Ramsey | Oh, okay. | 2:41 |
Eddie Francis | Was always a healthy man. And one of his sayings was that work has never hurt anybody. It's the worry that gets you. And evidently, he didn't have too much to worry about. He worked all the time, because he lived a good, healthy life. | 2:43 |
Sonya Ramsey | You said he owned a commissary. You know how he came to own the store? And can you talk about that? | 3:00 |
Eddie Francis | I don't know exactly how he came to own that store, but my grandfather was an adventurous person. And he saw the need for a commissary there, because, as I understand, it was about 200 to 300 workers at that mill, and there was no other place for them to acquire anything there. So, I believe that's the reason he went into the commissary business. And later, he had a store. And as each one of his sons would get married, he would move them in a house that was just across from his house, next to this store. | 3:09 |
Eddie Francis | And that's the way they would get their start in life. They would run the store for a while, then until they were ready to move out and go on wherever they were going and start their lives. But he always had that store there for any of his sons who wanted to move into the store and they would run the store. And I think that was his way of teaching them the principles of business, because he always believed in doing for yourself. | 3:52 |
Sonya Ramsey | Was he from Halifax County too? Or did he come from another— | 4:21 |
Eddie Francis | Yes, yes. No, he was born here in Halifax County. I don't know exactly where, but it wasn't in Delmar. | 4:26 |
Sonya Ramsey | Okay. I was going to ask, did he ever have any problems with White people because he owned the store? | 4:33 |
Eddie Francis | No. My grandfather, he was respected by Whites. Things that he wanted, he would go to Whites and tell them. And for some reason, they would just support him. And even when he went to banks for loans, and I guess it was because of his reputation, and everybody knew that if he asked for something, he saw his way through it. And now, he was never one of those who bowed to White people just because they were White. Because he used to tell us, if you owe the White man something, pay him what you owe him and go on about your business. | 4:40 |
Eddie Francis | And that's just the way he was. But I've heard many Whites in the area, when I tell them I'm a Francis, they say, "Are you related to the Francis in Delmar?" And I say yes. They said, "James Francis?" I say, "That was my grandfather." And even today they said, "That was one wonderful man." And I remember when my grandfather passed, it's not often you find Whites that would attend the funerals of Black people, but in this case, it was several of them who did. Before the funeral they came to the house and they bought bread and they bought food and sodas and things, and they were extend their condolences. And they'd tell us what a wonderful man he was. But now, my grandmother— | 5:35 |
Sonya Ramsey | I was going to ask you about her. Okay. | 6:31 |
Eddie Francis | It was a mixture with my grandmother. My my grandmother's father was a White man who was a sheriff here in Halifax County. And I think that has something to do with the way they felt about her, and about him too. And I was looking up some deeds in the courthouse not long ago, and his name was Sheriff Dawson. And I saw on one of the deeds, in fact, it was a deed to some land that my grandfather acquired for a cemetery. And it had James Henry Dawson. | 6:36 |
Eddie Francis | And there's a crossroad near where the cemetery is, was Dawson Crossroad. And I didn't know Halifax County had two Dawson Crossroads until just a few weeks ago. And that's what it was. That was the name of it. James Henry. Sheriff Dawson's Crossroad. And then I found out that this was the Sheriff Dawson who was her father. But years ago, Whites often associated with Black women. They always said the Black woman and the White man are the two freest people on earth. And I guess there's a lot of truth to it. | 7:18 |
Sonya Ramsey | What was your grandmother like as a person? | 7:59 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, my grandmother, as far as I'm concerned, she was the greatest grandmother in the world. I guess a lot of people would say the same thing. Her hobbies were fishing and hunting. | 8:01 |
Sonya Ramsey | Oh, was she hunting? | 8:13 |
Eddie Francis | Yeah, she hunted. She could out shoot any man. My grandfather used to invite people down to hunt on the farm. And they would come the beautiful hunting suits from New York and from Washington. And they would have a automatic shotguns and they'd be rabbit hunting. They would shoot at the rabbit and miss it. My grandmother had a little barrel, 410. When the rabbit come by, she would shoot and they would say, "Did you get him?" And my grandfather say, "She shot, she did." | 8:14 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did she work outside the home? | 8:46 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, yes, yes. She worked the fields. And well, when I came along, most of her work was over. My grandfather, he worked up until the last day. But it was an enjoyment for him to get out on the farm. But my grandmother, so far as the garden, my grandmother always made sure that the garden was intact and the orchard was intact. And what we call a cellar, they had, I think, I believe, to be the first house in Halifax County that was built with the basement to it. And my grandfather built that house with his sons. And all of his sons could do carpentry work, with an exception maybe of one or two. And I think by doing these things, he would always build his barns and his storage houses, everything. And he built this house and he showed me the receipts for this house. | 8:49 |
Eddie Francis | It was $2100. He built this house and I think it was a 14 room house. And I remember it had the Corvallis lights in it. I had never even heard of Corvallis lights. And I've only seen maybe one or two houses who had the Corvallis lights. | 9:50 |
Sonya Ramsey | What are those? | 10:09 |
Eddie Francis | Corvallis is something like a gas. It was a powder. The people would come by and put it in. But you had bright lights instead of the lamps. You'd strain your eyes to read. | 10:10 |
Sonya Ramsey | Oh, before electric light. | 10:20 |
Eddie Francis | Right. That was before. Yeah. Well, that was the modern day electric lights at that time. Then electricity came. | 10:21 |
Sonya Ramsey | Okay. | 10:28 |
Eddie Francis | But even today, the Corvallis fixtures are still in that house. | 10:29 |
Sonya Ramsey | Do you have any remembrances of your other set of grandparents? | 10:34 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, yes. My mother's parents. Now, my mother's parents, they were wonderful grandparents. But my grandmother on my mother's side, she was quick to get the switch. She was a strict disciplinarian and she always believed in doing it with the switch, which was just the opposite from my other grandmother. My other grandmother was, she wouldn't dare let anybody whip us unless we were really doing—But my grandmother on my mother's side, they were sharecroppers. | 10:38 |
Eddie Francis | They lived on a White man's farm. And I remember as a boy growing up, we used to go down to stay with my grandmother when my mother and father was going someplace. And there was some White boys who lived across the road, the Morrises. And they had the motor scooters. Even as little kids, they had all them modern day conveniences. And it was a wealthy family. And they would come over with their little motor scooters. And we would wait for them to come over so we could ride the motor scooters. | 11:18 |
Eddie Francis | And I didn't notice this until later in life, but they would always ride us up behind the house and down through the woods. They would never ride us on the highway where anybody could see us. And then later in life I began to identify with the reason they were doing this. Because Whites weren't allowed to be seen playing— | 11:48 |
Sonya Ramsey | Even as children? | 12:08 |
Eddie Francis | Even as children, weren't allowed to be seen playing. And the same kids, later when we started to school, we would walk to school. And the White kids always were in the school bus. And we would be walking the school, and when the Whites on the buses would pass us, they would throw things out the window. Bottles, soda bottles, rocks, sticks. And we would always have to be on guard to dodge. They didn't do it every day, but occasionally they just, "Oh, here they come. Get ready." | 12:09 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did they ever get in trouble for doing that, or? | 12:47 |
Eddie Francis | No. Because if you reported it, they wouldn't do anything to them. I remember one in incident, a boy was struck in the head by a soda bottle. And I mean, it put a real gash in his head. And the principal of the school, we went to the school and told him what happened. And he said, "Well, it's no need to making no big deal out of it. They not going to do anything about it." I don't think, until this day, they reported it. But now, when we got to high school, it was somewhat of a different story. We rode the bus to high school, because that was like eight mile away. And I remember one incident, our bus driver, you're supposed to stop for the railroad before crossing. And I remember one day, our bus driver was a guy I grew up with just across the field. | 12:49 |
Eddie Francis | And he stopped for the railroad. And you station a person to look both ways before you cross. And a White man said the bus driver didn't stop. And he reported it. And the superintendent, who was Overman at that time, he called the school and told the principal about it. And the principal asked him about it. And now, this principal was different than the principal in elementary school. He was somewhat what we call Uncle Tom. He just went along with the White man wishes. And so Mr. Wilder, our high school principal, he called when we got ready to load the bus that day after they called. He asked everybody, "Did Clinton Scott stop for the railroad?" "Yes, sir. Mr. Wilder." So, Mr. Wilder told them that everybody on the bus said he stopped. But this one White man said he didn't. | 13:46 |
Eddie Francis | And they took his license and the superintendent told him—Didn't take his license, took the bus, told him that he couldn't drive bus anymore, because of that one White man word. But he never came to the school to challenge it or anything. Just a telephone call. And this same principal, Mr. Wilder, now, he was a man of principle. And we had a janitor at the school who was handicapped. He was paralyzed in one leg, but he was a man that everybody at the school respected. He demanded respect. And he may have been a little slower getting the job done, but he did the job. We never attended a dirty school, especially as long as he was there. And Mrs. Johnson. Well, Mrs. Willa Blacksheir now. But at that time it was Willa Cofield, then Willa Johnson, then Blacksheir. She was married to a man by the name of Reid Johnson. | 14:44 |
Eddie Francis | Reid Johnson was a man, he stood strong on his convictions. The first demonstration I participated in was in Enfield, a place called the Plantation Grill. It was right on 301. 301 was the main highway going north and south in those days. And Reid wanted to demonstrate on this place, because they wouldn't feed Blacks. The only thing you went in there for to wash dishes and sweep the floor. And he was trying to get a group of people, so I volunteered. I was living in Washington at that time, and I volunteered to participate in the demonstration. And he started demonstrating. And then his wife was teaching at school. She was the English teacher in high school. And I think this could have contributed to it too. Mr. Overman wanted Mrs. Johnson and wanted Major Pittman, the janitor, he wanted them fired. So— | 15:45 |
Sonya Ramsey | Why did he want Mr. Pittman fired? [indistinct 00:16:57]? | 16:54 |
Eddie Francis | I can't understand. Well, I never understood why. He just did. He just didn't want him there. But it sure wasn't because of his performance, because we were there to see his performance. And Mr. Wilder told Mr. Overman— | 16:57 |
Sonya Ramsey | Mr. Overman is? | 17:13 |
Eddie Francis | Was the superintendent. After Mr. Overman gave him the instruction to get rid of these two individuals, Mr. Wilder told him, said, "Well, Mr. Overman, I'm satisfied with their performance." Said, "So, if you are not satisfied with their performance, then you'll have to fire them. He said, "Well, I'll just fire you." And so Mr. Overman fired Mr. Wilder. And then they hired Mr. Luther Williams to succeed Mr. Wilder. I mean to replace Mr. Wilder. So, Mr. Williams came in, that's the first thing he did. He fired Major Pitman and he fired Ms. Johnson. And I guess that was putting security on his job. He just retired a few years ago. | 17:14 |
Sonya Ramsey | Now, when they fired the Mr. Wilder, was this during the early 60s? Or the late 50s? | 18:10 |
Eddie Francis | Yeah, early 60s. In fact, I think, yeah, it was early 60s. In fact, I think it was the year of 1960. And the 1961 school year, I think that was when they got rid of Mr. Wilder. But Mr. Wilder was no doubt, in my mind, just a good principal as has ever held the job. And Mr. Wilder, he passed just about three years ago. And Ms. Johnson later, shortly after that, she filed a discrimination suit against the Halifax School Board. And I think got what she want. She beat the case and it was something like 60 or 70 some thousand dollars that she got, she was awarded because of the discrimination case. | 18:20 |
Sonya Ramsey | Okay. Can we go back and talk some more about your elementary school? And what type of school it was? | 19:06 |
Eddie Francis | My elementary school was what was known as the Rosenwald Schools, back in the early days of Black education. It was a man named Mr. Rosenwald who had the schools built. They raised money to build these schools. And well, I guess throughout the South, but I'm familiar with almost all of them that were in Halifax County at the time. And they were three and four room schools. But I remember they were built with partitions between the classrooms, so if you had something at school, you could open the partitions up and have one big room for whatever was taking place. And then you could close the partitions and cordon it off so you would have the private classrooms. | 19:12 |
Eddie Francis | And the one, my elementary school I attended was McDaniel Elementary School. But it was in the Daniels Chapel community. And I remember times we didn't even have water at the school. In fact, I remember when they finally put water in the school, they wouldn't even us a well. They ran the pipes from the church well to the school. In those days they had all of the modern day facilities in the White schools. But the, wouldn't even dig a well for us at our school. They ran it. And that's the way it was with most of the schools, because they usually built those schools near a Black church. And some of them were named after that community. | 20:02 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did the community help? I know since the schools were lacking in some of its basic needs, did the community help try to supplement some of those needs? | 20:56 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, yes. We could always go to the nearest person's house to get water when the pump wasn't working or something. But so far as lunches and so forth, we didn't have any of that. Lunch was always in your box or your bag when you got to school. | 21:05 |
Sonya Ramsey | Children had to bring their lunch. | 21:22 |
Eddie Francis | That's true. And it was rough for some in those days. I remember one case in particular where it was a large family, but they would come to school and they would bring herring fish and cornbread. And the teacher would let them go into the cloak room. | 21:23 |
Sonya Ramsey | Why was that? So they could— | 21:47 |
Eddie Francis | They were embarrassed. | 21:47 |
Sonya Ramsey | Oh, okay. | 21:50 |
Eddie Francis | But it was just survival. We were all having a hard time, but to some it didn't look as bad as others. But we managed to get through it. | 21:50 |
Sonya Ramsey | Do you have any remembrances of any of your teachers in elementary school? | 22:03 |
Eddie Francis | Every one of them. | 22:07 |
Sonya Ramsey | Oh, okay. | 22:11 |
Eddie Francis | Quite vivid. | 22:12 |
Sonya Ramsey | Does anything stand out in your mind? | 22:12 |
Eddie Francis | Oh yes. My first grade teacher was Ms. Margaret Scott, who was married to my cousin. And my second grade teacher happened to be my aunt who was Nancy Francis. And she was my second and third. Back then, one teacher would teach two classes. And Ms. Eason, who lives in Hertford, North Carolina, I saw her just a few weeks ago. She was my fourth and fifth grade teacher. And my principal, the sixth and seventh grade teacher, you never forget him for his whippings. I mean, this man, to me, he just loved punishing, you know? Because he wouldn't even ask questions. I remember once, we had the pot belly stoves, and he used to stick these long switches into the heater and when they were burned, he would hit you with the fire on the switch. | 22:13 |
Eddie Francis | And I remember one he struck at my brother, because he was talking or something, and they got some fire from the stick in my brother's ear. And that's the first time I ever seen my father really mad with anybody. My father was a very humble man. And when we went home and told my father what happened, he went out there. And I really think he wouldn't have taken anything for him to really beat the man up a chop. But he told me, he said, "Now, I whip my children. I don't have any problem with that." He said, "But I never burned one and nobody else is going to do it and get away with it." He said, "Don't you ever hit my children, any of my children, with a stick with fire it again as long as you live." And after that, I think that kind of—In fact the doctor that they took my brother to was a White doctor. And he tried to get my father to press charges, but he wouldn't. | 23:15 |
Sonya Ramsey | Could you go back and talk some more about, I asked you about your grandparents. Could you talk some about your parents? What were they like? | 24:17 |
Eddie Francis | Oh yeah, yeah. Well, my parents, my mother was a nice, easygoing, very religious person, and so was my father. I remember as kids growing up, my father was a superintendent of Sunday school. Church was a way of life with us. When Sunday came, it was no question what you were going to do. | 24:22 |
Sonya Ramsey | And what church did your family attend? | 24:43 |
Eddie Francis | Daniel's Chapel Baptist Church. | 24:45 |
Sonya Ramsey | Okay. | 24:46 |
Eddie Francis | And it was a walking distance from our house. And in those days, the children enjoyed getting up, walking to Sunday school with the other children. Sometime we would walk with the group, and then sometime we would ride, but, to us, it was a disadvantage to have the ride, because you missed the walk with the other children. You always look forward to Sunday, even to just walking up and down the Daniel's Chapel Road to the railroad and back to the main road. And we were always active in Sunday school and church, and as well as my mother. And I remember we used to have to go to represent the Sunday school at the Sunday school conventions, and churches at the church convention. It was always a challenge, because there was nine of us in my family. | 24:46 |
Eddie Francis | And my mother, when they would ask for volunteers to speak for the Sunday school or speak for the church, my mother would even ask us. She would just say, "Well, I have two," or, "I have three." And I always knew I was one of them. And we would go to speak. And then those days, the first prize was $5. The second prize was $3. And the third prize was $2. And I remember one incident, my brother won first place, I won second place, and my sister won third place at the Halifax County Sunday School. | 25:38 |
Sonya Ramsey | Oh, you did a sweep. | 26:11 |
Eddie Francis | Yeah, so and my mother, she still is a very terrific speaker, and she loved poems. And everywhere she goes, she carried poems with her, just in case she need them. And when the three of us won, the judges came out and they announced it. Then they went back. They said it wasn't fair to give all three prizes to one Sunday school, and particularly to one family. So they didn't want to do it, and they knew they were going to cause confusion if they didn't, once they announced it. So they called my mother in the back and they told my mother what the situation was. My mother said, "It doesn't matter to me." She said, "I know who earned them. You can give them to who you want to." | 26:13 |
Eddie Francis | So, they changed it and gave the third prize to somebody else. But that was my first and last time winning second place. From then on, it was always the first prize for me, because my brother, he rode me so hard after that. We would be in the field working and he would start saying a speech or something. He said, "And you better be practicing or something." And I just got tired of it, so I just made up my mind. I said, "This is never going to happen to me again." And it didn't. It never did. | 27:01 |
Sonya Ramsey | Can you talk some about what your father was like? | 27:37 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, my father, he was a easygoing person, but he was a strict disciplinarian too now. My mother would say things like, "I'm going to tell your daddy," if we got to that point. But usually she would just take care of the situation. But my father wasn't the type of guy that would constantly punish you. She would tell him something on Monday or Tuesday—And my brother and I, we were responsible for feeding the livestock. And we were guilty of not always feeding them like we were supposed to. We would say we fed him or something. But my father would always check. And on Sunday morning, everything would be totaled up and he'd be ready to pay off with the switch. He would always come in on Sunday mornings, just before you get out of bed. And he said, "You remember the other day when I told you to water the hogs and you said you watered them?" | 27:42 |
Eddie Francis | He said, "Well, when you water the hogs, the trough is always left wet. And I checked him and you told a tale." But he would water, but he wouldn't say anything. But then when he got ready to punish you. And when my father whip you, you didn't forget it the next day. And you never appreciate it then, but late in life, when you stop to think that he never had to come get one out of jail or never had to witness one going to jail or anything, I guess it all paid off in the long run. | 28:50 |
Sonya Ramsey | You said your parents both farmed? | 29:22 |
Eddie Francis | Yes. | 29:24 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did they own their own land? | 29:25 |
Eddie Francis | Yes. My father bought a 58 acre farm in 1950. But until then, he was renting the same farm, 58 acre farm, that was part of this 2300 acre track I was talking about was purchased by all Blacks. | 29:27 |
Sonya Ramsey | Okay. So, he rented from a Black person? | 29:47 |
Eddie Francis | Yes, yes. All the land, the entire community that I grew up in, it was owned by Blacks, all of my life, until last year they sold one White man, I think it was—I'm not sure, but I think it was 173 acre track of land in there. But until then, it was an all Black community. | 29:49 |
Sonya Ramsey | What was that like? Were you ever in contact with Whites that much and things? | 30:13 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, sure. Yeah. Almost constantly. Not maybe directly, but the Whites were always coming in to try to sell fertilizer. And my grandfather, he was noted as a great farmer. People used to come from all over to ride down on Sunday. It was a dead end road. The dead end at the railroad. And my grandfather would not plant anything in a crooked row. When he planted the first row of whatever he was planting, I have known him to plant that one row at least three and four times. It had to be exactly straight and he would plant the rest of them from that. He just could not stand a crooked row of anything. And I remember people used to come down just to ride by to look at his place. | 30:18 |
Eddie Francis | And sometime they would even, they were sneaky, they'd have a camera and take a picture of the straight rows and his place. And always kept everything clean, like grass. Some people were lazy and wouldn't keep the grass out of the crop. My grandfather didn't believe in harvesting grass. Only the crop that he was interested in harvesting, usually. That's what it was he was harvesting. And people were always interested in how many bags of peanuts he made per acre, and how many bushel of soybeans he made per acre, how many bales of cotton. But my grandfather, he didn't care too much for tobacco. He always said there's more work in tobacco than tobacco's worth. | 31:09 |
Sonya Ramsey | So, he farmed cotton? And so, what crops did he farm? | 31:54 |
Eddie Francis | He raised cotton, corn, peanuts. Now. he had a tobacco allotment, but as far back as I can remember, he always rented that allotment out, because— | 31:56 |
Sonya Ramsey | [indistinct 00:32:09] somebody's grandpa. Okay. I'm sorry. You said he had a tobacco allotment but he didn't— | 32:09 |
Eddie Francis | Yeah, he always rented that allotment out, because he said it was too much work in tobacco, in those days. | 32:14 |
Sonya Ramsey | When you were growing up, did you have to help work in the farm? | 32:22 |
Eddie Francis | Did you put it on? | 32:23 |
Sonya Ramsey | Mm-hmm. | 32:23 |
Eddie Francis | Oh. | 32:23 |
Sonya Ramsey | Mm-hmm. | 32:23 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, yes. Worked on the farm every day. We used to get up in the morning, five o'clock in the morning, and work, sometime two hours before going to school. Then we would come home from the school directly, and my mother would have the food ready when we got home from the school. And then we would go in the fields and work until dark. And on Saturdays we always worked at least a half a day on Saturdays. And depending on the time of the year, but during the time of the year when the crop is coming on to chopping and the plowing and so forth, we always worked every day. And that was another thing about the school, and it used to bother me when we were in school. The children who lived on a White man's farm, the only time some of them would come to school was when it rained so bad that night they couldn't get in the field to work. | 32:27 |
Eddie Francis | The next day the classrooms were full. And I remember sometimes, about one o'clock, sometimes 12:00 or 1 o'clock, that White man was at the school with his truck and he would come up there, this was the elementary school, and he would just blow his horn. And we had one teacher who they would find out he was out there and she would go to every classroom and she said, "Everybody on Mr. Birch farm, everybody from Mr. Meyer's farm, he's out there waiting for you." And some of the kids, could see the embarrassment. They would get their books and some of would even leave the books and just walk out. | 33:25 |
Eddie Francis | And they would get on the truck and this man would pull off, taking his help home. And I was always thankful to God that my parents didn't allow us to go through that, but I was always sympathetic toward those who had to do it. And some of those kids, I followed them. And today some of those sharecroppers, like Good and [indistinct 00:34:30], he used to be a sharecropper up here in North Hampton County. And there were many of them just like him, who, they went off on their own, but did good. | 34:06 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did the teachers try to help them, since they couldn't go to school as much as the other kids? | 34:40 |
Eddie Francis | They didn't even have—Well, the people weren't even interested. The school system, the school board, the school system weren't even interested in those days in tutoring programs. You either got it when it was going or you didn't get it at all. And then, later on, they had the night schools. And when night school started, it was mostly for adults. But now they have it so you can get it night, or day, or in between. But I don't recall any such programs in those days. | 34:47 |
Sonya Ramsey | Do you remember any things, I'm sorry, losing my voice, that your parents or your grandparents told you when you were a child, how to behave in front of White people? Anything they told you about that? Or told you about segregation and what to do? | 35:27 |
Eddie Francis | That was mostly they would set examples. Now, like I said, my grandfather, he respected everybody. But I guess it's like they said about Jesus in the Bible, he have no respect of persons. And my grandfather, he was the same way. Now my father, he never bowed. But I remember once, in fact the year was 1963, I came home from Washington to go to buy a hunting license from a place—No, buy some shells, because I was going to go hunting. And my father went with me to this place. And the man who owned this place, he was a big White farmer. And the man was talking and he was saying yes and no. And my father said, "Yes, sir." I said, "Wait a minute." I said, "Don't. If there's any sir'ing to be done, we are the one that's buying." | 35:42 |
Eddie Francis | And when we got in the car, I was telling him, I said, "When you go someplace to spend money, don't say 'sir' to White people. If you spending your money with them, let them say sir to you because that's the way it's supposed to be." And he said, "Well, you have to do what you have to do to get along." But I never believed that. But that was the way he was brought up. But as time changed, I guess people changed. But I just never liked seeing people bow to Whites because they were White, or because the Whites thought they were superior. Because that's never been part of my belief. | 36:36 |
Sonya Ramsey | And I'm sorry, you said, how many brothers and sisters did you have? | 37:15 |
Eddie Francis | It was nine in the family. Right. | 37:19 |
Sonya Ramsey | Nine. Okay. Did you have chores around the house to do? | 37:19 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, sure. In fact, we were responsible for everything around the house. Cutting the grass, cutting the ditch banks every year. When the farming begin at spring season, it's always work on the farm. It's no such thing as a break on the farm, that's if you farming like you're supposed to, because there's always something to do. And the certain days of the year it's time to start. | 37:20 |
Sonya Ramsey | Sorry, there's a little ant on you. Okay. | 37:48 |
Eddie Francis | They're supposed to start cleaning the ditch banks, then you start breaking land. And when we were farming, we were breaking land with mules. I mean, my brother and I, we had to walk over every foot of the land. But to us, it was a way of life. And the hardest part of any job is dreading it. If you know that's the way it is and you got to do it, you just go and do it, and the job is two-thirds done. But if you sit around and cry about it, it just makes the job harder. And that's the way I found it then, and I still believe that today. | 37:50 |
Sonya Ramsey | And what were the holidays like in your home? | 38:25 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, see, the 4th of July—Well, holidays was time for celebration. Families coming together. And our community was so close-knit. I have never—I've traveled all over these United States, and I have yet to see a community that was as close as the community I grew up in. This community was so close. If one person really got sick, I think most of the people in there would at least get a fever, because I remember they would come with their home remedies and everything. And doctors were hard to find in those days. Only time you went to a doctor in those days was after everybody had done everything they could for you and nothing else worked. Then they would try to get a doctor. And that was a job, even in those days. The first doctor I remember was Dr. Bryan coming to Enfield. And he stayed here for a few years and he left. | 38:27 |
Sonya Ramsey | He was a Black doctor? | 39:32 |
Eddie Francis | Yes. Because there just wasn't enough business here to support him. And I remember when I was in the elementary school, an incident with the doctor. I fell and I sprained my wrist and my thumb. And my wrist swoll up. We thought it had broken it. And my first grade teacher took me to the doctor. And this doctor gave me any medicine and we were on our way back to school. And I swear to the day that this man told me to take that medicine once a day, when it was hurting. And on the way back to school, I looked at the bottle. We stopped and we got the medicine. And I saw the skeleton on the bottle. And I told my teacher, I said, "This thing says poison." | 39:35 |
Eddie Francis | She said, "No," said, "It can't be." I said, "That's what it says." She looked at it. She said, "Sure is." So, we went on to the school and she showed it to my principal. In those days we had no telephones in the school. We went back to town. He said, "No, no, no. I told him to soak his hand in it twice a day." And it was a sprain. We thought it was broken. But, now that was a White doctor. But in those days they had, what was the [indistinct 00:40:43] insurance and insurance paid for the accidents. And I think the teachers were instructed to take their patients to this particular doctor. But I never went to that doctor again, and never recommended him to anybody. | 40:17 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did they have people in the community try to help people when they got sick? | 40:59 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, sure, sure. When the word went out that somebody was sick, it was almost like constant visitation. And I remember sometime people would sit up in the house so late at night, it was enough to make the people sicker instead of trying to get them well. And the same community where I lived, it was in 1949 I think, man by the name of Mr. Jim Marilyn Scott, who lived just across from us, he built a store. A new store. I mean, it was a nice store. And that became a community center. And Blacks would come from all over. At night they would sit and talk. And he had this huge fan that would keep them cool. And they would sit and drink and kids weren't allowed to sit around and listen to the old folks talk. Well, this man, he was a great lover of children, not just his own. He had nine of his own, but he just loved children. And he gave us a ball diamond behind that store. | 41:03 |
Sonya Ramsey | A baseball diamond? | 42:07 |
Eddie Francis | A baseball diamond, yes. And he gave us the balls, the basket gloves. He didn't ask anybody else in the community or the county or town, anybody. He gave us this himself. And of course he was a great lover of the game of baseball, period. But he wouldn't allow us to play on Sunday. That was the only thing. We could play ball anytime except for Sundays. And I remember sometime we would be playing ball and the temperature would be in the upper 90s or sometime approaching 100. And he would send his boys down to his house to pump a half a tub of water. | 42:08 |
Eddie Francis | And he would roll the lemons and make lemonade. And sometimes, as kids, you thought of having a soda, which was only five cent in those days, you thought it was a big thing. So, we would take the lemonade. We would rinse out a soda bottle and pour the lemonade in a soda bottle and drink. But later in life, I realized how important—in fact, he just died last year. And for somebody to just give you these things, and then watching you play the game, he see you sweating. He knew soda was only five cent, but he also knew half of us couldn't afford them. And he would give us the lemonade, because lemonade was cheap. But yet and still, it was just as good as any soda you could get. | 42:46 |
Sonya Ramsey | You talked about playing baseball. What other kind of games did you play growing up with you and your friends for fun? | 43:28 |
Eddie Francis | That was about it. Baseball and softball. It was never football. Well, we weren't that familiar with the game, and as rough as football is, I don't think we would've excelled in the game. | 43:34 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did you ever play basketball? | 43:50 |
Eddie Francis | Oh, yes. Basketball. Yes, basketball. But in high school. And you didn't even get to basketball until you went to high school. And I remember when we would go to another town and we'd win the game, and you know how you always tease the other guy, "Man, you get your game together and we'll come back and play you again. Practice or something." And some of the guys couldn't take the joke and the fighting would start. We'd have a little spat or something. Or sometimes they would come out throw at the bus or something when they get ready to leave. And some of those same people, I see them now, and even today we kid about it. | 43:53 |
Sonya Ramsey | Could you talk to him about your high school then? Or did we get everything? Did you want to add anything about elementary school? Or anything you remember? Or we could go on high school now. | 44:36 |
Eddie Francis | Okay, now high school, the thing that stand out in my mind most is Mr. Wilder, the principal I was talking about they fired. Now, he was a terrific principal. In those days, I don't think the Whites wanted us to have the teachers who were really dedicated to educating Blacks. And I remember one incident when we—well, this was before I went to high school. They were trying to give, it was a man by the name of Mr. Marcellus Miller. He was like a genius. He lives in Rocky Mountain. | 44:43 |
Eddie Francis | And practically everybody around here know Mr. Marcellus Miller. He taught in several of the schools. And he taught at Eastman High School. And he always believed that they should have a business administration in their curriculum. So, he would get the people together and the superintendent would always tell him, "Okay, if you want a business administration department, you buy the typewriters and the desks and you buy the equipment, and we'll see that you get it," thinking they couldn't do it. | 45:27 |
Eddie Francis | And they would go into the community. And Mr. Holmes, who was the principal of Eastman, he would go into the community. I remember many times he would come to my grandparents' house and come to our house and go into the garden and get the vegetables. They had what was called the teacher [indistinct 00:46:16]. It was a two-story building, had about six rooms in it that the teachers stayed in. And each week, two teachers were responsible for cooking. But he always made himself responsible for getting the food to cook. And it had to be donated. And my grandparents in particular, used to raise food just for the teachers. | 45:59 |
Sonya Ramsey | Really? | 46:39 |
Eddie Francis | The garden was always extended because of the teachers. Strawberry time they would come down and pick strawberries. And— | 46:40 |
Sonya Ramsey | Did the teachers not get paid enough, so they could do that? Or why did they do that for the teachers? | 46:48 |
Eddie Francis | Well, no, the teachers, as far as I'm concerned, teachers have never been paid what they deserve. In fact, today, they should be getting hazards of duty pay, on top of what they're giving them. But they had to be doing it out of dedication, because it just wasn't that much money in it, and particularly in those days. And Mr. Miller, who was teaching at Eastman, he went out into the community along with Mr. Holmes, and I remember when they were raising the money. | 46:54 |
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