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From Slavery to Wealth. The Life of Scott Bond. The Rewards of Honesty, Industry, Economy and Perseverance:
Electronic Edition.

Rudd, Dan A. (Daniel Arthur), b. 1854

Bond, Theo. (Theophilus), b. 1879

Funding from the National Endowment for the Humanities supported the electronic publication of this title.

Text scanned (OCR) by Chris Hill
Images scanned by Chris Hill
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First edition, 2000
ca. 600K
Academic Affairs Library, UNC-CH
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill,
2000.

        © This work is the property of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. It may be used freely by individuals for research, teaching and personal use as long as this statement of availability is included in the text.

Source Description:
(title page) From Slavery to Wealth The Life of Scott Bond The Rewards of Honesty, Industry, Economy and Perseverance.
(cover) The Life of Scott Bond
(spine) The Life of Scott Bond
Dan A. Rudd and Theo. Bond
384 p., ill.
Madison, Ark.
The Journal Printing Company
1917

Call number 326.93 B711R (Perkins Library, Duke University)


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Illustration

        

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SCOTT BOND AT 40.

        

Illustration

MRS. MAGNOLIA BOND.

FROM
SLAVERY TO WEALTH THE LIFE OF
SCOTT BOND THE REWARDS OF HONESTY, INDUSTRY, ECONOMY
AND PERSEVERANCE

BY

DAN. A. RUDD AND THEO. BOND

WITH PREFACE BY HON. J. C. NAPIER
President National Negro Business League and Ex-Register of U. S. Treasury

PUBLISHED BY
THE JOURNAL PRINTING COMPANY
MADISON, ARK.
1917.

Page verso

Copyright, 1917
By
The Journal Printing Co.

Page 4

CONTENTS.

        

Illustration

Page 7

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Page 12

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT.

         The Journal Printing Company's plant at Madison, Ark., was not large enough to print this book and in order to have the work done by Negroes the National Baptist Publishing Board at Nashville Tenn., was awarded the contract for printing and binding.

         How well the work was done is attested by the appearance of the book.

         The magnitude of the plant of that great concern must be seen to be appreciated. With its large batteries of linotype machines, presses and cutters, and complete bindery with all the latest mechanical devices it is indeed an establishment for the race to proud of.

         Tuskegee Institute furnished the photographs illustrating in Mr. Bond's visit to that school. The portraits, as well photographs showing some of Mr. Bond's activities and were made by Hooks Bros. of Memphis. The engravings from these pictures were made by the Bluff City Engraving Co. of Memphis.

         The generous courtesy of all these people merits our highest praise.

Page 13

PREFACE.

         I have known Mr. Scott Bond since 1905. He is unassuming and progressive and while lacking in what men generally term education, I regard him as highly intelligent. To value him at his true worth, one must become thoroughly acquainted with him; upon such acquaintance, his motives, purposes, and aims in life become more highly appreciated. By intuition, he is naturally a merchant, a conservative trader, and a man who at a glance sees the advantages and disadvantages of any proposition made to him.

         During the sessions of the National Negro Business League, he has been the very spice of all meetings he has attended. Dr. Booker T. Washington, founder and lifetime President of this League, was always insistent upon his being present at these gatherings, because of the life he always threw into their proceedings.

         His unique and purely Southern method of expression always added, not only to the material and interesting side of the League's deliberations, but also presented a most exemplary phase that increased the inspiration of the many young men who have heard him and known of his life and work.

         On the occasion of the League's meeting at Little Rock, Ark., in 1911, a special visit was made to his home and place of business at Madison, Arkansas. There we found him surrounded by every comfort of life, domiciled in a beautiful home, presided over by a devoted wife and surrounded by a happy family of children whose loyalty and devotion to him were made manifest by very action and movement. His place of business was perhaps the largest in Madison, every part of which showed method, order and intelligent direction.

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         The people of his community were unanimous in their praise of the manner in which he conducted his business and of his life among them as a citizen. At a recent meeting of the National Negro Business League, at Chattanooga, Tenn., Mr. Bond was really the life of every proposition presented before that body; and while he did not fail to express himself on every question that came before the League, he at no time failed to make good his point and to impress his views thereon, firmly and intelligently.

         I regard Mr. Bond as one of the most substantial, exemplary and really meritorious men produced by our race.

        

Illustration

J. C. NAPIER

Page 15

INTRODUCTION.

         The world of unrest in these days is but the harbinger of better things. This is a crucial period in the history of mankind. Whatever may be the efforts of men to force certain unholy conditions, history proves that in the end right will triumph over wrong. Truth and justice will at last prevail.

         In offering this biography to the public, it is our purpose to show some of the many disadvantages that must be overcome by the Negro in his way upward. We also want to impress the idea that the Negro will be measured by the white man's standard; that he must survive or perish when measured by that scale. The Negro must "find a way or make one." His goal must be the highest Christian civilization. His character, his moral courage, his thrift and his energy must be in excess of the difficulties to be surmounted. He must use his own powers to the limit, then depend upon God and the saving common sense of the American people for his reward in years to come.

         To the white friends of the race and to the progressive, earnest Negroes of all our country this book is especially dedicated by the authors.

Page 17

SCOTT BOND.

         SIXTY-FOUR years ago there was born near Canton, in Madison County, Mississippi, a slave child that was destined to show the possibilities of every American-born child of any race. It was a boy. His mother was subject to the unhallowed conditions of that time. That her son was to be numbered among the leaders of his generation was not to be thought of; that he should become the largest planter and land owner of his race and state seemed impossible; that as a merchant and all-round business man, owning and operating the finest and one of the largest mercantile establishments in his state was not to be dreamed of; that at the advanced age of 61 he would erect and operate successfully the largest excavating plant of its kind in Arkansas and one of the only two in the entire southland was beyond conception. Yet, these things and many others equally remarkable have been accomplished by the little Mississippi-born slave boy whose history these pages recount.

         The illustrations in this book show some of the many successful enterprises owned and managed by Scott Bond, and also some interesting incidents in his still more interesting life. This is the story of one, who started to lay the foundations of his career at the age of 22, with a bed quilt, a clean character and a manly determination to do something and to be somebody. Today he is one of the largest land owners, merchants and stock-raisers in Arkansas.

         Mr. Bond credits much of his success to his charming wife, who has been his helper and his comforter in all his struggles. We offer this as an inspiration to the young men of the race and of all races. No race that produces men who can build and operate such works as these needs have any fear for the future.

Page 18

         At the age of eighteen months, little Scott, removed with his mother to Collierville, Fayette County, Tennessee, and at the age of five years removed with his mother and step-father, William Bond, to the Bond farm, Cross County, Arkansas. The question of "States' Rights" was uppermost in the mind of the American people. Mighty things were to happen that would settle forever this vexatious question. The south was drawing farther and farther from the north. The north was declaring "union forever."

         Bleeding Kansas! Forensic battles in the Congress of the United States! John Brown's Raid! Then in April, 1861, the first shot of the civil war crashed against the solid granite walls of old Fort Sumpter. What has all this to do with some little obscure mulatto boy, born on an obscure plantation somewhere down in Dixie? Just this: Had these tremendous events not transpired and ended as they did, the country would have still kept in bondage a race of men who have in fifty years-- years of oppression and repression--shown to the world what America was losing. Booker T. Washington would not have revolutionized the educational methods of the world. Granville T. Woods would not have invented wireless telegraphy. There would have been no Negro troops to save the rough riders on San Juan Hill. There would have been no Negro soldiers to pour out their life blood at Carrizal. There would be no black American troops to offer to bare their dusky bosoms in the fiery hell beyond the seas today in the mighty struggle for world democracy. Scott Bond would have had no opportunity to prove to the world that if a man will be may.

         There were many things in the life of the slave to break the monotony of daily, unrequited toil. At no time in the history of slavery in America was there more rapid change of scenes than during the years of the civil war. It was in these years little Scott had his ups and his downs, enjoying as others the bitters and the sweets of youthful slave life. As the fratricidal strife neared its close, and the dawn of freedom appeared upon the horizon, slaveholders were put to their trumps to keep their human chattels. When the union soldiers would be nearing some big plantation the slaves were hurriedly secreted in some out-of-the-way

Page 19

Illustration

FLOOD IN THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER.

Page 21

place to keep them out of sight until the apparent danger had passed. It was an occasion like this in 1865 that the overseer on the Bond farm was ordered to hurry the Negroes to a hiding place in the swamps. News that the Yankees were coming had spread abroad. Teams were hitched to the wagons and some provisions for camping were loaded and the Negroes, some seventy-five in number, were started for the hidden camp ground. This was great fun for these poor people. The overseer had some of the slaves make brooms of brush and spoil out the mule and wagon tracks to keep the Yankees from following. They were headed for the big blue canebrakes on the banks of the bay and Morris pond, a great fishing ground, where little Scott joined the others in fishing and frolicking. They had not been long at this place before the cry was raised, "The Yankees are coming." Soon a troop of union cavalrymen came upon the scene. They ordered the slaves to surrender. A few knew what this meant and threw up their hands. The lieutenant in command ordered his troopers to dismount. Then all fell to fishing, singing, dancing and feasting. Skillets, pots and frying pans were called for. Mr. Bond says he never saw men eat fried speckled perch as did those soldiers. This was a picnic for the slaves. "The only thing," says Mr. Bond, "that threw cold water over my pleasure was that my good mother could not be with us; she being the house maid had to remain with the mistress while all the other slaves were sent to the bottoms."

         "When the dinner of fish was finished, the lieutenant ordered us to gather up our things and load them into the wagons. This was done. He got upon a stump and said: 'This war will certainly end successfully for the union. Every Negro under the stars and stripes will be free.'

         "Right there," says Mr. Bond, "was one of the greatest events of my life. Old gray-headed women with children clasped in their arms; old, feeble, decrepid, worn-out men, all shouting--Hallelujah! Hallelujah. The officers stood quiet until the hysterical demonstration had subsided. He then continued: 'I am going to take you back home to the farm from which you came. Don't leave home and run from place to place while the war is going on. Stay at home and be good and obedient servants as you have been, until

Page 22

the war is over.' The drivers mounted their seats, the children climbed upon the wagons, and men and women walked behind, the soldiers bringing up the rear started back home. When they reached the Bond farm, they came as they went through the middle of the field down the turn row. I saw things happen up and down that turn row, young as I was" says Mr. Bond, "that I thought were very wrong and think so to this day. The hoes and harrows lay along the turn row. Some of the Negroes in the crowd took axes and broke every one of these farm implements."

         When they reached the great house, Mrs. Bond, the mistress, walked out on the front veranda and with her little Scott espied his dear mother. The lieutenant introduced himself and said: "I have come to restore to you about fifty head of mules and seventy-five colored people. I regret very much to know that you thought that we as union men were coming down here to destroy the south. I want to congratulate you upon the skill with which you had your colored people hidden. It required some skill to find them but we had more fish to eat than we have had since the war began."

         The madam replied: "I am so much obliged to you for your kindness and generosity. I was not indeed looking for union soldiers; I was expecting the jayhawkers, that was my reason for sending them down there." The soldiers then rode off.

         One of little Scott's duties was to ride behind the madam and carry her key basket, for in those days when she would be absent from the house she would turn the keys in the locks, then put the keys in a basket kept for that purpose.


                         "But they change as all things change here,
                         Nothing in this world can last."

SCOTT BOND'S MOTHER DIES.

         Not long after this Scott Bond's mother died leaving him yet a little boy with his step-father. They laid her to rest on a beautiful spot on the side of a towering hill overlooking the Bond farm.

Page 23

        

Illustration

SHEEP AND CATTLE. UNLOADING HAY IN THE BACK GROUND.

Page 25

STARTING A NEGRO SCHOOL.

         In 1866, a northern gentleman, Mr. Thorn, was renting the Bond farm. He was very kindly disposed toward the colored people. He wrote to Memphis for a teacher for a colored school. The parties to whom he wrote, referred him to Miss Celia Winchester. She accepted the school.

         There were no railroads in this part of the country at that time. The only method of transportation was from Memphis, by steam boat, down the Mississippi and up the St. Francis rivers to Wittsburg.

         When the boat arrived at Wittsburg, Mr. Thorn, not knowing the customs of the south, secured a room at the hotel for Miss Winchester, who was an Oberlin, Ohio, graduate. She had attended school with the whites at that famous seat of learning. She too, was ignorant of the customs prevailing in the south.

         When the proprietor of the hotel learned that Miss Winchester was colored, he went out and bought a cowhide. He met Mr. Thorn on the street, held a pistol on him and cowhided him.

         Mr. Thorn stood and cried. He said that he was seventy years old and had never done any one any harm in his life. What he had done was not intended as a violation of custom.

         We lived about sixteen miles out from Wittsburg. The next day a wagon met Mr. Thorn and Miss Winchester and took them the farm.

         Thus was opened the first school for Negroes in this part of the country and the first school I had ever seen. In the school my step-father and myself were classmates in the A B C class.

         Later on, Mr. Thorn's wife came from the north to visit her husband. She opened a night school for those old people who could not attend the day school. The hours were from seven to nine.

         It was a curiosity to me to see so many people, some of whom were gray-headed, trying to learn to read and write. They were enthusiastic and very much in earnest.

         This condition held good for the whole neighborhood. In the daytime, the children would gather pine knots to make light at

Page 26

night. All about the country one could see lights in the homes and people trying to learn their lessons.

         Coal oil and electric lights were unknown. The white people, in the great house, used candles. The colored people used pine knots and little flat iron lamps filled with grease; and used a rag for a wick.

         When the weather grew warm, people would collect pine knots and at night they would gather in great crowds in the open, and then such singing of A B C's and a-b ab, you never heard. The whole colored population seemed to be crazy about education.

         I remember an old lady seventy-eight years old, who was determined to learn to read, and in less than eight weeks she was reading the Bible. I know of another instance of a Negro, named John Davis, who in twelve months after he learned his A B C's, was elected Justice of the Peace. He had learned to read and write. He did not know enough to prepare his docket and papers, but the kindly disposed white people for whom he worked, would fix up his documents for him. He would sign them "John Davis," J. P. These white people were southern born democrats.

         There was a. Mr. Brooks, a white democrat, who was John Davis' predecessor in office, who would frequently prepare Davis' docket and warrants. The docket went regularly before the grand jury and was favorably passed upon. Davis served out his term and was eventually married. He lived respected by all who knew him.

         It must be remembered that at that time the southern white man was largely disfranchised.

         As Mrs. Thorn advanced with her educational work, it was very encouraging to see the good results of her efforts.

         As the season drew to a close, it was common to hear the old people spelling at their exercises. When they reached "baker" in the old blue back speller, it was b-a ba, k-e-r ker, baker; l-a la, d-y dy, lady; s-h-a sha, d-y dy, shady; at the wash tub, over the cook pot, in the kitchen, at the mule lot and in the cotton patch, it was "baker," "lady," "shady," from sun-up to sunset, and way into the night.

Page 27

        

Illustration

SCENE ON GRAY FARM, LOOKING SOUTH.

Page 29

         Had that enthusiasm kept up until to day the Negro would be the best educated race in the world.

         What the Negro needs today is more of the eager enthusiasm of the years just after the close of the Civil War. From this cup we must quaff deeply and often from the cradle to the grave.

         There is no place for drones in human society. The lazy man, the listless man, the passive, happy, go-lucky man is a real curse to his race.

         "Up and at them!" is the command that comes ringing down the ages. "Up and at" the obstacles that stand athwart the pathway of progress. Think! Work! Get results!!

         If one would study German history of the last fifty years, he would find out what it means to be thorough; what results come from intense application in developing human efficiency.

         Yet, after all that is said and done concerning the Negro race in America, we must admit that they are a great people. If the Negro has plenty, he is happy; if he has nothing, he is happy. He can come about as near living on nothing as any other race and still be happy.

         This philosophic tendency to be happy under all conditions and in all circumstances is characteristic of the race.

         Before the war a Negro's rations consisted of three pounds of meat, a peck of meal, and a pint of black molasses; and they lived to be one hundred and one hundred and ten years old and would still be strong men to the day of their death.

         It was a rare thing before the war, to hear of a Negro having tuberculosis.

         He is as proud as a peacock. The jolly good nature of the race has been its salvation. In fact, the Negro is the only race that can look the white man in the face and live.

         Better still, the white man does not want to get rid of the Negro.

MAKING A SLIP GAP.

         "I remember," says Mr. Bond, "once when I was quite young, one of my tasks was to look after the calves. When the cows came up to the cow pen, I would let them in. Then I would drive

Page 30

the calves half a mile to get them into the lane and back through the lane to the cow pen.

         I thought I would make a slip gap. I got some rails and dragged them up. I was not big enough to carry the rails, so I would move one end ahead, then I would go back and move the other end. When I got ready to put it into place, I would take a rail and by prizing, managed to get the rail in.

         The overseer came by one day and asked me who made the slip gap. I told him I made it. He had a paddle with a strap on the end. He said he was going to whip me for lying to him. I told him I had not lied. He said he would like to see me make another. I then showed him how I managed to make it.

DEER FOR DINNER.

         In the time of the Civil War, the high cost of living was as much in evidence as it is today.

         I can remember that when I was a little boy, living on the Bond farm on the Bay road in Cross County, Ark., that anything like a square meal was a thing of the past. There was neither meat nor bread to be had. We had a little wheat that would be ground in an old-fashioned corn mill. From this we would make mush for breakfast and cush and greens for dinner.

         On one occasion my step-father killed a quail with a clod. My mother prepared and cooked the bird with dumplings. It made a meal for seven people.

         One morning as we were going to the field we heard the hounds in the distance. As the sun rose higher the hounds seemed to be getting nearer. About nine o'clock the dogs were running around the north end of the farm. This was not unusual, as there were plenty of deer and panther in Arkansas, so we paid little attention to the hounds. To our surprise a big buck jumped into the field where we were at work. It was about a mile and a half to the next fence. Mr. Cook, the overseer, had his horse tied to a bush near where the deer jumped into the field. The overseer being like the rest of us, half starved, mounted his horse and gave chase. The deer that had been running for six or seven hours was

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Illustration

SCOTT BOND'S SHEEP AT HOME.

Page 33

practically run down. So when the overseer overtook the deer, he leaped from the back of his horse to the back of the deer and cut the throat of the fleeing animal.

         That was meat in the pot. There was no more work that day. It was deer for dinner, deer for supper and deer for breakfast.

SITTING ON A SNAKE.

         There was a woman named Julia Ann on our plantation, who, one day at dinner time, went to a tree where she had hung her dinner bucket. She reached up and got the bucket and backed up to the tree and sat down between its protruding roots to eat her dinner. When she got up, she found she had been sitting on a rattle snake. The snake was killed. He had fifteen rattlers and a button on his tail. Ann fainted when she saw the snake. She said that she had felt the snake move, but thought that it was the cane giving way beneath her.

         Snakes of that size and variety were numerous in Arkansas in those times.

         I heard of an instance where a man built a house on a flat, smooth rock on a piece of land that he had bought. It was in the autumn when he built his house. When the weather grew cold he made a fire on the rock. There had been a hole in the rock, but the man had stopped it up.

         One night he had retired, and late in the night, his child, which was sleeping between him and his wife, became restless and awakened him. He reached for the child and found what he supposed was his wife's arm across the child. He undertook to remove it and to his consternation, found he had hold of a large snake. He started to get out of bed, to make a light, and the whole floor was covered with snakes. He got out of the house with his wife and child.

         The next day the neighbors gathered, burned the house and killed hundreds of snakes.

         The house had been built over a den of snakes.

         When I first came to Arkansas as a little slave boy, things were different from what they are today. Arkansas was on the western

Page 34

frontier. The clearings were small and far between. There were trails here and there, but few roads.

         Wild game of all kinds was abundant. Deer, turkeys, bears, raccoons, o'possums and all varieties of small game were so plentiful that one only had to look about him to see some one or more kinds of game.

         It was next to impossible to make a corn crop unless there was some one to hunt at night and guard the fields of ripening grain. If this was not done, the farms would be stripped of their corn.

         There was a man named Slade, whose duty it was to hunt all night. He slept in the day time. He could not bring in all the game he would kill, hence the hands on our place would divide themselves into squads and take time about hunting with Slade at night until he had killed a load of coons, and they would then carry them home and go to sleep, leaving Slade to make the rest of the night alone.

         The meat secured in this way would last several families for some time. The next night another squad would accompany Slade on his hunt.

         One night a party who had been hunting with Slade, started for home. The night was dark and cloudy. They lost their way. They finally came to the bank of a lake they had never seen before. There was a boat moored where they came out. They saw a light across the lake, so they got into the boat and rowed across to see if they could get information as to the direction home.

         One their way back across the lake--it was by this time nearly sun-up--they ran their boat upon something which began to move. Upon investigation, it proved to be a large turtle. They secured it and sent for a mule to haul it out. When the shell was removed they had one hundred and forty-eight pound of turtle meat.

         Such was the abundance of wild life in those days that whole families could subsist on game if they so desired.

Page 35

        

Illustration

CATTLE JUST AFTER DIPPING.

Page 37

SCOTT BOND MOVES TO MADISON.

         Scott Bond moved to Madison, St. Francis County, Ark., with his step-father, who had bargained to buy a farm, in 1872, and remained with him until he was 21 years of age. He then undertook to vouch for himself. His step-father contracted with him to remain with him until he was 22 years of age. His pay was to be one bale of cotton, board, washing and patching. He thought the pay was small, but for the sake of his little brothers, that they might have a home paid for, he remained that year. The next year he walked eighteen miles to the Allen farm, having seen the possibilities in the fertile soil of that place in the two years he had worked on it with his step-father. He decided that would be the place to make money. He rented 12 acres of land at $6.50 per acre. He had no money, no corn, no horse, nothing to eat, no plows, no gears; but all the will-power that could be contained in one little hide. In 1876 he rented 35 acres and hired one man. In 1877 he married Miss Magnolia Nash of Forrest City. The Allen farm, as stated elsewhere, contained 2,200 acres. The proprietor lived in Knoxville, Tenn. She sent her son over the next autumn, who insisted on Scott Bond renting the whole place. This he refused to do on the ground that he was unable to furnish the mules, feed, tools and other stock sufficient to cultivate it. Mr. Allen took a letter from his pocket that read: "Now, Scott, I have told Johnnie to be sure and do his uttermost to rent you this place, and as I am sure it would be quite a burden on you financially, you may draw on me for all the money that is required to buy mules, corn and tools." And at the bottom: "Scott, I think this will be one of the golden opportunities of your life." This lady was near kin to Scott Bond's former owner. He grasped the opportunity. There were all sorts of people living on the Allen farm. Some half-breed Indians, some few white families and some low, degraded colored people. The whites were no better than the others. The first thing Scott Bond had to do was to clean up the farm along those lines. He then secured axes, cross cut saws, and built a new fence around the entire farm--something that had not been done for 20 years. When the crops were gathered and disposed of, Scott paid Mrs. Allen and everyone else for the rent and all other obligations.

Page 38

He received from Mrs. Allen, the owner of the farm, who lived in Knoxville, Tenn., a fine letter of thanks and congratulations for the improvements on the farm. The net profits, all bills paid, were $2500, in addition to the gains on cotton seed. This farm is situated right at the east base of Crowley's Ridge, 42 miles due west of the Mississippi river. There were no levees in the county at that time, and when the overflows came we had a sea of water spread out from the Mississippi to the ridge. Mr. Bond said the next winter there came the biggest overflow he had ever seen. He took his boat and moved all the people, mules, cattle, hogs and horses to Crowley's Ridge. He lived about a mile and a half from Crowley's Ridge and owing to a deep slough or bayou between him and the ridge he was compelled to use a boat. There was perhaps no more exciting time in Mr. Bond's life than when with his boat he would brave the dangers of the murky flood and with the help of his crew scout the country over hunting out and rescuing people and stock from the rising, rushing waters. It is said by those who know, that Scott Bond saved the lives of hundreds of people, white and black. In this particular overflow he had 7,000 bushels of corn and 10,000 pounds of meat that he had killed and cured. He saved all this by putting it in the lofts of the different buildings on the place. Having secured his own people and property, he spent his time looking out and helping his neighbors. He lived in the great house on the Allen farm. He took flour barrels, placed planks on them for a scaffold to put his cooking stove and bed on. The next day he ran his dugout into the house and tied it to his bedpost. Three days later he was compelled to get another set of barrels, to raise his scaffold a little higher. On the third evening he arrived at home between sundown and dark with all his boatmen in dugouts. It was impossible to get in the door on account of the water. They ran the boats in through the windows, each man to his sleeping place. Every one of them was as wet as rats. They would have to stand on the head end of their boats to change their wet clothing before getting into their beds. The cook and his helper, who looked after things in the absence of the boats, were brave to start in with and promised to stay with Scott Bond as long as there was a button on his shirt, but when they saw the boats coming in

Page 39

Illustration

"THE CEDARS" SCOTT BOND'S HOME AT MADISON, ARK.

Page 41

through the top sash of the window their melts drew up. They said, "Mr. Bond, we like you and have always been willing to do anything you asked us to do, but this water is away beyond where we had any idea it would be. We are going to leave tomorrow morning."

         They had all changed and put on dry clothing, and as a matter of course felt better. The next call was supper and dinner combined. A big tea kettle full of strong, hot coffee, spare ribs, back bones, hog heads, ears and noses. There was some shouting around that table. Mr. Bond says he did not attempt to pacify the cook and hostler until after all had finished supper, as the time to talk to an individual is when he has a full stomach.

         "The next day when we started out," says Mr. Bond, "I instructed my men to 'do as you see me do.' If a cow jumps over board, follow her and grab her by the tail and stick to her until you come to some sappling or grape vine; grab it and hold to it until help arrives. Any man can hold a cow by the tail or horn in this way."

         All Mr. Bond's people were comfortably housed on Crowley's Ridge. In those days people did not need the assistance of the government to take care of them. They had plenty of corn, meat and bread they produced at home. Six months later you could not tell that there ever had been an overflow from the looks of the corn and cotton.

         "But to return to the boys who were getting frightened at the ever-increasing flood," said Mr. Bond, "we all loaded our pipes and you may know there was a smoke in the building. 'Twas then I said, 'Boys, all sit down and let's reason with one another. The water will be at a standstill tomorrow evening. I really know what I am talking about, because the stage of the river at Cairo always governs the height of the water here. That is a thing I always keep posted on. While this, the great house, is two-thirds full of water, you must remember that this is the eddy right along here, and anyone of you take your spike pole and let it down to the floor and you will find from 8 to 10 inches of sand and sediment.'

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         "One man said, 'I know he is right, because whenever an overflow subsides I have to shovel out from ten to twelve inches of sand. This house is built out of hewn logs, 46 feet long and the biggest brick stack chimneys in the middle I ever saw. Now, boys, with all this meat and other things piled on this scaffold you are perfectly safe. I am feeding you boys and paying you well. I am asking you to do what you see me do. This satisfied them and we stuck together."

         Mr. Bond rented the same farm for eleven years. In that time he had paid for rent $16,000. He then wrote Mrs. Allen at Knoxville in the month of August for her to be sure and try to get a tenant for the next year, as he had bought a farm of 300 acres of land at Madison on the St. Francis River, and he would be compelled to go and develop it; that he had seven boys and he really felt that he would be doing them an injustice to have them renters the balance of their days. He received a letter from Mrs. Allen in reply. The offer she made was hard to turn down, but looking around at his wife and beautiful boys, there was a longing for home sweet home and while he regretted to have to do so, he refused the offer. Mr. Bond says: "I paid $2 per acre for 320 acres and today I am offered $85 per acre for every foot of it. If one had seen it before I bought it and would see it now with all its improvements, with splendid roads around it, over which automobiles pass every few minutes, they could hardly realize that it is the same place."

         The south seems to be the only place on earth for the Negro, with its fertile soil, its mild climate, its sunshine and its flowers, it does seem that nature had left this fair land in which to raise the Negro to the highest state of civilization.

         Mrs. Allen asked Mr. Bond to recommend to her the best tenant he could find. He could only think of two colored men whom he thought had the ability to take and manage the place, Richard Miller and Henry Anderson. They were so placed at the time that they said it would be impossible for them to take hold. His next thought was of a white man named Newt Johnson, who had been his neighbor on the Allen farm for ten years. Mr. Johnson was proud of the chance. The next year there came another overflow, Mr. Johnson was unable to employ the right kind of hands and made

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Illustration

SCOTT BOND'S BIRTHPLACE.

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a failure. He told Mrs. Allen his troubles with the overflow and he agreed to try it another year, that he thought he would succeed. I don't know what percent of the rent young Mr. Allen collected that autumn. Mr. Johnson and others told young Allen that those two big overflows had literally ruined the farm. They took him around and showed him the different sand bars that had accumulated on the place. Mr. Allen, a gentleman as he was, not being posted about these conditions, said; 'Gentlemen, I have heard of just such things." No sprouts had been cut nor ditch banks been cleaned off for two years. The place really did look desperate. Mr. Allen returned to his mother at Knoxville and explained things to her just as he found them. They held a consultation. Mrs. Allen said: 'Johnnie, what shall we do with that farm? I would not have you go back and live there for anything. You know that the Boyd Manufacturing Company promised that if I would not take your wife back to Arkansas to give you a half interest in the manufacturing concern. Now, Johnnie, I had rather for Uncle Scott to have that place than anyone I know. Get your pen and I will dictate a contract to Uncle Scott. It read thus: 'Uncle Scott, if you will pay the taxes which amount to $136 and then pay me $1,000 every November until you pay me $5,000, I will make you a warranty deed to the whole 2,200 acres.

         "When Mr. Allen arrived with the contract in his pocket," Mr. Bond says, 'he found me ginning cotton to beat the band on gin on my new farm that I had cleaned up. The sun was about three hours high the morning Mr. Allen came to me. He seemed to be full of glee. His aristocratic breeding and training showed in his every movement. He grasped my hand and said, "Howdy, Uncle Scott, mamma sends her highest regards to you and your family.' I was proud to have the pleasure of meeting Mr. Allen at my new steam gin with all the modern improvements and last but not least, it was built on my own land. I showed him my now brick kiln that I had just blown out. I made everything around the gin plant as pleasant for him as I knew how and looked every moment for him to say, 'Good bye, Uncle Scott,' knowing his quickness of movement and decision. I was at a loss to know what to do for him. At 10:30 o'clock I sent a messenger to inform my wife that Mr. John

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Allen of Knoxville would be with me for dinner. She had not much time to prepare, but when the boy returned he brought turnip salad, eggs and fried chicken. Knowing the customs that existed between the white man and the Negro in the south, I spread a cloth on the top board of the scales, fixed his plate, knife and fork and said, 'Mr. Allen, have a lunch.' Mr. Allen said, 'Uncle Scott, this is your gin and your property. As you used to belong to Cousin Mary Francis Bond, who always felt dear to mother, now you come and let's eat together.'

         " 'You know a man feels best just after he has had a good dinner. Mr. Allen said, 'Uncle Scott, I have a proposition for you that will make you scratch the back of your head.' This, of cause, took no effect on me, but when he drew from his pocket the contract his mother had authorized him to submit to me, I was struck with amazement.

         When I came to myself I was standing on the front side of the scales scratching my head. I looked around and Mr. Allen laughingly remarked: 'I told you I would have you scratching your head.' I then began to figure. I had hundreds of acres of land already on hand that were already paid for, but I reasoned that if I could rent a farm and pay $1,250 a year rent until I had paid the proprietor $16,000, as I had done on that same farm, it looked to me like the proposition was a good one. I said, 'Where will you be tomorrow at 9 o'clock?' He said he could be at any place I would have him to be."

         Mr. Bond agreed to meet Mr. Allen in Forrest City the next morning and close the deal. "The next morning," says Mr. Bond, "I rode over to Forrest City and met Mr. Allen and Mr. T. O. Fitzpatrick on the sidewalk. As usual Mr. Fitzpatrick said, 'Good morning, Uncle Scott.' Mr. Allen said, "Uncle Scott, I have a better proposition to offer you than the one I offered you yesterday. I have a party who will take it at $5,000 and pay half of the money cash.' Mr. Fitzpatrick said. 'Have you been talking with Uncle Scott about this deal?' 'Yes,' I was at his gin plant yesterday all day and he promised to be here this morning at 9 o'clock to close the deal.' Mr. Fitzpatrick remarked: 'Now, I take down my proposition

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Illustration

SPRING CREEK MISSIONARY BAPTIST CHURCH OF WHICH SCOTT BOND IS A MEMBER.

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and have nothing to do with the deal. There stands one man, Scott Bond, that I always thought to be a gentleman.'"

         Mr. Bond said: "Mr. Fitzpatrick that is all O. K. Now in order to help Mr. Allen out and also better your condition we will buy the farm in partnership." Mr. Fitzpatrick said: "That would suit me better than buying it by myself, provided you promise me that you will superintend the farm for five years, with the understanding that T. O. Fitzpatrick will allow you big wages for superintending the farm."

         Here, again, Scott Bond showed his ability and foresight. He says: "I grabbed like a trout at a troll. I sold my new gin plant on my place and moved back to the Allen farm. The only thing invested in the farm to start with was a pair of plug mules and 180 bushels of corn." He says when he got on the good old farm he felt like he was the big dog of the bone yard. We here again repeat Mr. Bond's word without quotation: When I was on this farm as a renter I thought I had a big melt. When I looked around and seeing there was a probability of me becoming proprietor I felt that I could do four times the amount of work I could do before. There was immediate demand for axes, hoes, plows and people. In four years' time there was over 100 additional acres of land brought under cultivation; fourteen new houses with brick chimneys, a new steam gin and a kiln of brick; the farm was stocked out with work stock and tools and the farm all paid for. I then turned everything over to Mr. Fitzpatrick and rented to him my interest in the farm, gin, mules and horses. I moved back home with my beautiful wife and children and began clearing and improving my big farm at Madison. Some years later the colored people all around Madison, where I live, became Africa struck. I begged them not to sell their farms and go to Africa, but first go and see for themselves. All my begging and advising did not avail. I owned at that time 320 acres in that inmmediate locality and saw there was another opportunity. I sold my interest in the Allen farm to Mr. T. O. Fitzpatrick and received every dollar in cash. This money bought in seven other little farms adjoining mine. I told Mr. Fitzpatrick that he and I could get along in perfect harmony all the days of our lives but after our days our boys might not agree as we had

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done; that I thought it good policy as well as profitable to myself to sell. When I got the seven little farms attached to my main big farm, I found there was room for the little bull dog to grow larger and stronger as there was plenty of room for work and improvement. All these years cotton was only 5 cents a pound. My larger children were all in college. One can readily see there was plenty of room and reason for the little bull dog to raise his bristles. All this land was high-class, fertile land. I came to the conclusion that I would go into the Irish potato business. Potato growing was something new to me, but I always felt I could learn to do anything any one else could do. I paid $500 for seed potatoes the first dash out of the box and planted fifty acres. We made a very good crop, shipped about 20 car loads and made a nice profit. Seeing this was the thing to do, I next year planted 110 acres. I got a good stand and by digging time I found a tremendous crop of potatoes. I had everything arranged, about 75 hands, buckets, baskets, barrels and teams ready to start digging potatoes on Monday morning. I awoke at 3 o'clock and said to my wife in the bed, "Just listen to the rain." This of course knocked potato digging in the head. I thought, however, that it would be all right in a day or two, but it rained a solid week and when I started digging the ground was really too wet, but I thought I had to do something but the next day it rained again. I finally made up my mind to continue digging but it was a bad old go. As fast as I would load one end of the car I could smell the potatoes rotting, in the other end of the car.

         I shipped about 30 car loads, many of which when they reached their destination the consignee would write back, "Please remit $5 or $10 to pay balance of freight." One can see that I had the land and had the potatoes, there was no reason in the world why I should not have shipped 65 or 70 car loads of nice, clean, commercial potatoes, but the rain did it all. Instead of making a profit I lost $5,000. I soon learned to realize that this was an unavoidable accident. There was no negligence on my part. The little bull dog raised his bristles again and remarked to himself, "The place you lost it is the place to make it." I prepared the land again for a fall crop, got a good stand, built a potato house, dug and housed

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Illustration

SCOTT BOND LANDING LOGS AT HIS SAW MILL.

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the potatoes and saved them for seed potatoes on the Texas market the following spring. I had about 10,000 bushels, which by holding until February brought $1.25 per bushel. I got back all the money lost on the first crop to pay all the expenses of the second crop and leave me a neat margin.

         Cotton was still selling for four and five cents a pound and as a matter of course I continued to grow potatoes. There is perhaps no vegetable that is more palatable and more nutritious than the humble potato. The next year I grew seventy-five acres of potatoes as the seasons came right and I had learned to prepare the land to cultivate a potato crop. All this gave me a wonderful yield. We began digging about the 10th of June. The market opened up at $1.10 per bushel, but this only held good for a few car loads and the prices took a downward trend. Chicago and Pittsburg were my best markets. My commission men in those two cities kept writing me, telling me to rush my shipments as the price would go sky high in a few days. I had not much confidence in their predictions. Potatoes had fallen to 75c a bushel. I was not able at that time to keep up with interstate commerce. I made up my mind to try some good horse sense concerning the market. Two of my southern friends came by to view my potato crop and to see the manner in which I was selecting potatoes for the market, as they were strictly in the potato business and had handled several hundred car loads from this community. They insisted that I should let them handle my potatoes for me. I told them I could not do it. I was taking at that time a paper that was devoted especially to potatoes that were grown in all parts of the United States. This gave me a chance to see and learn something of the market. I had already decided to close out my entire crop to some other people who understood the market better than I did, so I remarked to them: "Gentlemen, I cannot let you take this crop and handle it for me, but I have a proposition to make you; that is, I will sell you these two cars we are now loading for 75 cents per bushel, and then I will close out the balance of my crop to you for 65 cents per bushel and will gather, sort and load them, that is, deliver them to our station for 65c per bushel."They were both perfect gentlemen. They conferred with each other a short time, then

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turned to me and said, "Uncle Scott, we will take your proposition if you will allow us to put two inspectors to see that potatoes are selected and loaded properly." This I agreed to. It was about the 11th of June. I further agreed to get the crop loaded by 12 o'clock midnight, June 16th. I had worlds of potatoes to dig. Then and there I got busy. We finished those two cars that day, ate supper and that night I jumped into my saddle and rode over the entire community. The next morning at sun up I had 125 hands in my potato field. I sent eighteen miles to my upper farm to get more mules and wagons to double my capacity. I figured that I only had five days in which to dig and load this crop, but if I got 10 days out of five days by working day and night I could complete my contract. Business picked up, but the price of potatoes continued to fall. This inspired me with more ambition to hustle. We would begin in the morning as soon as it was daylight. I had my teams arranged so as to give each one of them rest. We would dig and barrel all day and at sundown have fresh teams and a fresh crew and load cars all night. This enabled me to load from two to four cars a day. On the 16th I had finished digging my entire crop with the exception of one small car. I dug that next day and it netted me only 15 cents a bushel. From the day I sold the two cars at 75 cents and the balance of my crop at 65 cents a bushel the market continued to go down every day, so you can see that it was to my interest to push things and get through by the 16th. Just think about it! I had no written contract with these gentlemen. The contract was only verbal. The names of these gentlemen were Mr. Eugene Rolfe, now county judge of our county, and Mr. Eugene Borrow. Both of them were southern born, aristocratic gentlemen who always stand upon their honor. They paid me every dollar they agreed to like heroes. I wound up that year by making a handsome profit on my potato crop. Cotton advanced that year to 8 cents per pound. This brought about quite a change as cotton had been four and five cents for years. I looked over the situation and concluded that on account of the advance in cotton it would be hard to got hands to handle a potato crop. I knew the potato to be a leguminous plant. Then considering the amount of plowing I had to do to make two potato crops, I concluded that that

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Illustration

MR. BOND AND MR. BRIDGEFORTH DISCUSSING HOGS IN THE MULBERRY ORCHARD AT TUSKEGEE.

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land would grow a good crop of cotton. I planted that land to cotton. I never had in all my days such cotton crops as were grown on that land for the next two or three years[.] Cotton sold that year for 10 1-2 cents and by Texas going into the potato business on account of the boll weevil, I decided to stop potato growing while times were good. Cotton has remained at a fair price from that time until the European war, when in 1914 the bottom again fell out of the cotton market. I then began to diversify my crops in earnest. I planted wheat, rye, oats and alfalfa and began in a small way to accumulate cattle and hogs. I saw the prices on that class of farm produce was up and going higher. During all these years I kept my children in college and managed to buy another farm every year.

         One of the greatest mistakes people make is when they take their children out of school in the very years they should be in training. It is false economy to think they are of more permanent help in the field than in the school room. More children are cheated out of an education in this way than in any other.

SCOTT BOND'S FIRST MERCHANDISING.

         In this age of specialization, it is unusal to find a man who does many things well. A saying that "a jack of all trades is good at none," is certainly not appropriate in relation to the subject of this sketch. It may be that the exception proves the rule: If this be true then, the life of Scott Bond is the exception. Mr. Bond not only did many things, but he also made a success of everything he touched.

         In 1876, the records show that he was the first of his race to do merchandising in the then little town of Forrest City, which has since become the county seat of St. Francis County.

         At that time, Mr. William Bond, Scott Bond's step-father and Mr. Abe Davis, proposed to him to open a store. They agreed to go each one-third share and share alike; each to invest $200 dollars and Scott Bond to be in charge to handle the business. Each was to pay one-third of the expenses, rent, clerk hire, etc. So about the 15th of December, Mr. Scott Bond insisted that

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business should be started in order to get the benefit of the Christmas trade. He therefore invested his $200 and his stepfather and Mr. Davis agreeing to come in with their share a little later. January, February, March and April came and still they were not ready. The business was a success for the capital invested, but the capital was not large enough, so May 3rd Mr. Bond decided to pack up and store his goods. He stored them with Mr. Abe Davis, and on May 4th, went back to the Allen farm to make a crop.

         About this time he was engaged to be married to Miss Maggie Nash of Forrest City. The night before he went to the Allen farm, he called on his fiance. She was living with a white family, one of whom a young lady was also named Miss Maggie Nash. Mr. Bond told his future wife that he was going to the Allen farm and promised her a box of stationery and stamps, that she might write him. The next day he purchased a nice box envelopes, writing paper and stamps and sent them to her by a young colored man, who marched up to the front door and delivered the package.

         The young white lady received it, thinking it was for her. At this time Mr. Bond's future wife entered the room and noticing the package claimed it and told Miss Nash to look at the name on the box, which she did and found it from Scott Bond. After a jolly laugh in which all joined, the present Mrs. Scott Bond was allowed to take her stationery.

         It was in the time of the old horse gin, and the conveniences of the modern gin were undreamed of. The cotton was hauled to the gin and unloaded in baskets, then fed to the gin by hand and pressed into bales with the old wooden screw.

         So when Mr. Bond had picked all his cotton he and his wife hauled it to the gin house and unloaded it up into the gin. He had two ponies and two borrowed horses. His wife, to save 75 cents a day insisted on driving the ponies for the week and his cousin Ananias drove the borrowed horses and it took all week to gin 12 bales. At noon they would go home to dinner of left overs from breakfast.

         One of the most delightful southern dishes is baked raccoon.

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Illustration

CORNER OF BED-ROOM. SHOWING FIRE PLACE WHERE CAN WAS FOUND SUPPOSED TO CONTAIN $500.

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Mrs. Bond, a past mistress in the art culinary, would often get her husband to visit a famous trapper who was camped not far away to procure a raccoon, which she would proceed to cook after a fashion that would delight an epicure.

         Upon one of these visits, the trapper had no coons, and offered Mr. Bond a beaver. Mrs. Bond had always said that she would not eat a beaver. The trapper skinned a beaver and persuaded Mr. Bond to take it and not tell Mrs. Bond it was a beaver. When he arrived at home, his wife remarked that it was the largest and fattest "coon" she had ever seen. She cooked it and both ate very heartily of it. Some time later she told Mr. Bond to bring her another "coon" large and fat, just like the other one. Mr. Bond then told her that what she had before was a beaver. Well it was excellent and that he had better get her another beaver.

         Mr. Bond swapped a mule for a yoke of small steers and he would load two bales of cotton on a little ox cart and drive 16 miles to Forrest City and get home again late in the night.

         The next year he increased his acreage, procured more stock and took on some share croppers. By this time his wife was compelled to stay at home, to use Mr. Bond's own words, "because we had gone into the baby business."

         With three share croppers he cultivated 75 acres in corn and cotton and gathered 67 bales of cotton and all the corn, hay and potatoes needed. He would never tell his hands to go on but would say "come on and let's go." He never knew what it was to get tired; and he never allowed any one about him to get tired. He was a close observer. Whenever he would find his hands becoming fatigued he would start joking and make them forget that they were working.

         It was actuallly fun for him in those days to take an interest in what is now called diversified farming. Cotton, corn peas, vegetables, calves and pigs each had a share of his interest and in each line he was unusally successful. And the things that encouraged him most was when he saw that his two boys were growing. This fired his ambition for greater effort, as he knew they would soon be ready for college.

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         One of his families of share croppers had worked with Mr. Bond's step-father while Mr. Bond was quite a boy. The old man's name was Bill Thomas. Another man, named Albert Banks, with Thomas and Mr. Bond were picking cotton for Mr. Bond's step-father. The rumor got out that Mr. Bond's step-father was going to give up the farm they were working, and move to a farm he had bought. Old man Bill Thomas was tongue-tied, hence could not speak very plainly. The three were picking cotton, side by side in cotton taller than themselves. Bill Thomas said to Banks:

         "Suppose you and I rent this big farm next year and hire Scott to feed horses and do chores, and we will grease his mouth every day with a 'eatskin (meaning meatskin)."

         Scott remarked you had better learn how to talk and not say 'eatskin, 'eatskin.

         It would make the old man exceeding angry for anyone to mock him, because he was tongue-tied. He grabbed his sack and leaped across the rows after Scott exclaiming: "You stinkin' booga! I'll lick you if it is the last thing I do!"

         The cotton was higher than one's head on horse back. Scott was so small he could run under the cotton and out run the old man. He chased Scott for some time and finally gave up, saying to Scott, "I'll git yer."

         Time rolled on and Scott grew to manhood and finally bought the farm where they had this controversy, and the old man, Bill Thomas came to Mr. Bond and offered to work on shares with him. Knowing he was a good hand and easy to get along with, his proposition was accepted. Mr. Bond fed all the hands out of his own smoke house.

         One Saturday evening all of the people came up to the smoke house to get their weekly rations, and to use Mr. Bond's words again:

         "I locked the door and started into the house. All had their meat and were sitting under a large shade tree in front of the smoke house. Old man Thomas called and said, 'Bond come back here.' "

         "I turned and went back to see what he wanted."

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Illustration

GIN WITH COTTON READY FOR SHIPPING.

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         He said: "Boys, listen and let me tell you something. Some five or six years ago, I chased that ere man you see standin thar all over dat ar cotton patch over yonder, for mocking me when I said I would grease his mouf wid a 'eatskin. Little did I think at dat time, dat some day he would be greasin my mouf and my wife's mouf and my child's mouf wid a 'eatskin and heres de 'eatskin under my arm."

SCOTT BOND PAYS HIS FIRST CASH RENT.

         While money in one sense of the word is no more than chips, yet it has a great power. The first money I ever had in my hands to amount to anything was $1,250.00. This money was to pay the rent on the farm I had rented. I had paid out this amount for several successive years before that. But as it was the custom and habit in those days, the Negro would give the land owner an order to his merchant and the merchant would pay the rent.

         Toward the last it appeared that my merchant and my landlord did not agree pleasantly, when she went to collect her rent. I had paid out seven or eight thousand dollars for rent by giving orders in this way. So my landlord wrote me a note, telling me to go and get the money and bring it over and pay it to her, and she would give me my rent note. I was very busy at the time and thought this was working a hardship on me. But seeing this was the proper thing to do, I saddled my horse and proceeded at once. I had to go six miles to get to the merchant, and then nine miles to the landlord.

         The merchant asked why I did not give an order as I had been doing.

         I replied: "You Dutchmen have insulted my landlord, and you know she don't have to come after it. It is my place to carry it to her, so get it out."

         As I had money there to my credit of course they proceeded to count it out.

         I had made thousands and thousands of dollars up to this time, but I had never allowed the money to go through my hands. My business had all been done through orders and checks.

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         When Mr. Block, my merchant counted out this money, there was $500 in bran new $10 bills, $500 in $5 bills, pinned in two different packages, then $250 in $1 and $2 bills. He looked at me and said: "Here is your money."

         I took the money and placed it in the inside pocket of my overcoat. This gave me a new idea of the difference between handling the money and handling orders. I used great precaution in buttoning up my overcoat, bounced into my saddle and rode off to my landlord. Once in a while I felt like hugging this money. After I had gone about two miles I stopped my horse in the road and said to myself. I must take this money out, look at it and count it.

         Another thought came to me, that no, I must not do that, some highwayman might come along, see it and rob me. I rode off into the woods until I came to a log. I dismounted, tied my horse to a brush, went up to the log, pulled out my money, unpinned it and scattered it all up and down the log. After I had this money all scattered up and down the log, it seemed that I could not view the money standing right over it so I stepped back from it a piece and walked up and down by the log. I said, "This is product of labor of my own hand. Here is $1,250 which I am giving the landlord to let me cultivate her land." and at that point, when I could realize how hard I had strived and struggled, to make this money, and as far is I was concerned it was just like taking that much money casting it into the fire or throwing it into the well so far is any good it would do me. Then I could look and see what it was to own a farm.

         Now when I looked ahead of me down the lane of time, seeing what a hill I had to pull, by way of educating my children and also buying a farm, I was compelled to shed a few tears. But I soon looked on the bright side and said, "Others have accomplished those things and so can I, and I said then and there if I live, some day I will have others bringing it to me this way." I can say today, if I would sit down and demand it, I could have more than ten times the amount brought to me for rents.

         I gathered up my money. I was not able to get it in as neat

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Illustration

WHEAT STACKED ON SIDE OF FIELD. LAND BEING PREPARED FOR PEAS.

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a package as when I started from town with it. Off I went to my landlord

         The landlord of whom I speak and my mistress were first cousins. They frequently visited each other. I was a little servant boy. When my mistress would visit the lady of whom I speak, of course I would at meal times, take my meals in the kitchen with the other servants. When I reached there with this money, it was then I learned another new lesson in the difference between orders and real money.

         It was a little after 11 o'clock when I arrived at the lady's front door. I pulled off my hat and laid it on the steps which was customary for Negroes at that time. I rang the door bell. Mrs. Allen came to the door and said good morning Uncle Scott, how do you do. Walk in. "I replied, howdy, I have come to bring you your money."

         She said, "That is all right." I took out the money and placed it on the center table and asked her to please count it and if correct to give me my rent note.

         This she did in a few minutes. The money was all right. She hunted up the rent note, marked it paid and handed it to me, and said "Scott, I am much obliged to you for the rent money and your promptness in paying same."

         "Mrs. Allen you are perfectly welcome, but I realize the fact that I am the dependent party. I have no property of my own and I am the one that is much obliged."

         I turned around and said good bye Mrs. Allen. She said no, no, you can't go home until you have dinner. You have to ride 7 miles and now it only a few minutes to 12 o'clock. Take this seat and sit down and I will go and see Maria and have her to rush dinner. She soon returned and got a chair and sat down and asked how was "Bunnie" (nick name for my wife) and the two boys.

         Then she asked me hundreds of questions and entertained me in a way that I had never been entertained before in life. She was cultured and refined and had the ability to entertain any body.

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         In a little while she had the servant to bring a small table. They used nothing but linen table cloths, silver knives and forks, and napkins. The servant was sent to the pantry and set all sorts of preserves on this little table. Dinner was brought in and I was asked to sit up and eat dinner. Mrs. Allen said, "I will sit and entertain you while you eat."

         I want to say that this was an unusually fine dinner for a man like me. I ate very heartily, but I could not really enjoy this wonderful dinner. My mind ran back to the time when I was glad to eat in the kitchen among the cook pots and slop buckets, and at the time enjoyed the meals in the kitchen better than I did the feast set before me by Mrs. Allen. Instead of enjoying my dinner, I took all my time to figure out what had brought about this great and wonderful change. Now to solve this problem and entertain Mrs. Allen all at the same time was quite a job for a fellow who was uneducated, but by the time I got through eating and entertaining Mrs. Allen I had worked out the problem; that was this, the $1,250 paid it all.

         I mounted my horse and arrived at home about sun down. This days trip caused me to look and see differently from what I had ever seen in all my life. After supper I sat down with my wife and talked the whole thing over. I said, "wife I am going tomorrow and buy 300 acres of land. I have learned today what it is to own a farm."

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Illustration

VIEW ON STEVENS FARM LOOKING NORTH.

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SCOTT BOND BUYS HIS FIRST FARM.

         There was a man in Forrest City, a saloon keeper named Pritchard, who had offered me 300 acres of land and made me two propositions. One was $800 in two payments and the other $600 cash.

         The next morning I got on my horse and started to Forrest City, eighteen miles from where I lived. I found Mr. Pritchard very busy, but walked up to him and said:

         "Is the deal still open on the piece of land that you spoke of, 300 acres on the Little Rock and Memphis R. R., right close to Madison?["]

         He said, "Yes."

         "I think I understood you to say that you would take $800 in two payments or $600 spot cash."

         "Yes, that is what I said."

         "I will be here Friday next with the money."

         ["]I suppose you will be ready to make me a deed on that date."

         "Yes, that is a trade and I will be here."

         I returned home that evening went to Wittsburg and told my merchants, R. and B. Block, that I wanted $400. They asked me when I wanted it. I told them I would call for it Thursday evening at 6 o'clock. At this time I walked in. Mr. Ralph Block said to his partner:

         "Ben here is Uncle Scott. He wants $400."

         Mr. Ben Block said "What are you going to do with it."

         I said: "I am going to buy a piece of land."

         "How much will the land cost you?"

         "Six hundred dollars."

         Mr. Ralph Block said: "You told me you only wanted $400.["]

         I said: "Yes, sir, but I have $200 in my pocket."

         Mr. R. Block said: "How will this suit you, you give us your $200 and we will give you a check on M. Y. Myers, New Orleans, for $600."

         "I said: That is all O. K., if that will answer the purpose."

         I paid over the $200 and got the check for $600. Went to Forrest City the next day. Found Mr. Pritchard very busy in his saloon.

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         I stepped up to him and said: "I am ready for the deed."

         He said: "Have you got the money?"

         "Yes, sir."

         All right I will go and see Mr. Wilson, J. P., and have him write the deed.

         We walked over to the Justice's office.

         "Mr. Wilson I want you to write a deed to this man, Scott Bond, for a piece of land that I own on the Little Rock R. R., close to Madison. Here is my deed from which you can get the description of the property."

         "All right I will have the deed ready for you in a few minutes. But I want to know what is the consideration."

         Mr. Pritchard said: "Let's see I made him two propositions, one was $800 in two payments, the other $600 cash, which one are you going to take?"

         I told him I would take the one for $600 cash.

         Mr. Wilson said all right and started writing.

         Mr. Pritchard looked at me a few minutes and said: "Nigger I am very busy and I have no time for foolishness. I want to know if you have the money."

         "Yes sir. I will hand you a check from R. and B. Block at Wittsburg, Ark., payable by M. Y. Myers and Co., N. O."

         He took the check and looked at it and said, "Wilson what do you think of that?"

         Mr. Wilson said, "R. and B. Block at Wittsburg are all right I know. M. Y. Myers at N. O., has a fine rating and I think the check is all O. K., but carry it down stairs, L. Rollwage and Co. and they can give you the information you want."

         Mr. Pritchard took the check to L. Rollwage and Co., and they told him the check was as good as gold and they would be glad to cash it for him as soon as it was in his possession.

         In a little while, Mr. Wilson had finished the deed. After the deed was signed and the check paid over, my appearance showed a fellow that lived away back in the sticks, had not been to the barber shop for some time. My hair was long, my clothing were patches. I had been working at the gin and was full of cotton and really looked pretty tough.

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Illustration

NEAR VIEW OF FRUIT FARM.

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         Mr. Pritchard looked at me and made an oath and said: "Nigger, where did you get all this money?"

         "You can readily see from the check that I got it from R. and B. Block at Wittsburg."

         "I want to know how you got the prestige to get that much money?"

         "From the day that your action drove me from Mrs. Maloney's hotel, where I was a waiter boy, I have learned to realize that all the money, gold and silver has been dug from the bowels of the earth. I am glad to say to you that I made 156 bales of cotton last year and I will get something over 175 this year, so you can see where the Negro got the money from."

SALE OF THE ALLEN FARM.

         The incidents of Mr. Bond's life are all very interesting, but perhaps none will portray the financial foresightedness and ready ability of the man more than the sale of the Allen Farm. First the method in making the sale, second the look ahead for breakers that in time of prosperity and general contentment would not be thought of by the ordinary mind.

         The attempt to sell a bunch of cattle caused him to find a ready buyer for the Allen farm.

         He was in partnership in this farm with Mr. T. O. Fitzpatrick and had been superintendent of the farm for four or five years for himself and Mr. Fitzpatrick. At this time Mr. Fitzpatrick was superintending the Allen farm for himself and Mr. Bond.

         On a certain day Mr. Eugene Rolfe a prominent white gentleman who is now County Judge of St. Francis County, wanted to buy a bunch of cattle Mr. Bond had at that time running on the Allen farm. Mr. Bond says:

         "I agreed to sell these cattle and the day was set to go and look at them. Mr. Rolfe and he went up in a two horse rig. This was about the middle of November."

         Mr. Bond says: "To get to where the cattle were we had to pass a gin I had built but was then being operated by Mr. Fitzpatrick. Prior to this time Mr. Fitzpatrick had agreed to turn

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over to me twenty bales of cotton as my interest as rent on the farm that year. This was one of the most notable farms in the county at that time, being situated on the St. Francis river, where the military road, built by Gen. Jackson, crosses that stream. There was a ferry boat there to transfer people back and forth across the river. It contained 2,200 acres of the most fertile land in Eastern Arkansas.

         As Mr. Rolfe and myself reached the gin I asked Mr. Rolfe to stop a minute, and shouted, hello. Mr. Fitzpatrick came out on the platform. I said, "Good morning Mr. Fitzpatrick.["] Mr. Rolfe said good morning also. I said, "what day shall I send my wagons for the cotton?"

         He said: "I have 18 bales ready for you now and expect to gin the other two bales this evening, so you can send your wagons tomorrow morning."

         "All right sir." Mr. Rolfe and I drove on. Mr. Fitzpatrick was one of the most noted and influential white citizens of the county, was a Republican and had been County Clerk for a number of years. Mr. Rolfe was also a very noted gentleman in the county, being honest and upright.

         We had been boys together and threw rocks on the creek on Sundays. This grew into manhood friendship. Mr. Rolfe remarked to me: "Scott you ought to feel mighty grand."

         "Why so, Mr. Rolfe?"

         "Just think of you driving up to a steam gin and hailing a man like Mr. Fitzpatrick, who is finely educated, who has a reputation equal to any man in the county and also having a man like myself driving you in a double rig."

         "Mr. Rolfe it is a long lane that never turns. You must realize that Mr. Fitzpatrick has used me this way for several years."

         (At the same time I was on his bond for $5,000.)

         "So far as you are concerned it would be a real pleasure to me to drive you or wait on you in any way."

         We drove on up to what was known as the big house. There we unloaded and took it afoot all over the farm, hunting up the cattle, I had agreed to sell to Mr. Rolfe.

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Illustration

LAYING BY CORN WITH CULTIVATORS.

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         Mr. Fitzpatrick and Mr. Rolfe were friends morally and socially. Mr. Rolfe being a very shrewd trader, Mr. Fitzpatrick was somewhat shy of him along these lines. After we passed the gin, Mr. Fitzpatrick began to wonder what Scott and Rolfe were up to. So he sent a boy out on the farm to see what Mr. Rolfe and I were doing.

         The boy returned to Mr. Fitzpatrick and told him he really could not tell what we were doing. He saw us go up the river bank and then along the levee, thence south to the old mill yard; that we had left the double rig at the big house and gone afoot.

         Mr. Rolfe and I found all the cattle. I closed the deal and sold him the cattle. We both got into the rig and started back to Forrest City. As we passed the gin Mr. Fitzpatrick was out marking some cotton. We raised our hands and waved him good bye.

         This was 18 miles from my home place. I arrived home about 7 o'clock, which at that season of the year is after dark. Wife as usual had a hot supper waiting for me.

         Right here I want to say something that a very few men can say. My wife has never turned me out from home, regardless of the time of night, without a warm breakfast or waiting supper for my return, in all our forty years of married life.

         About 9 o'clock that same evening I heard some one speak at the front gate.

         I remarked to my wife that, "that is Mr. Fitzpatrick. I wonder what is the matter? I just left him about five hours ago on the Allen farm." I walked to the door and said, "Get down Mr. Fitzpatrick and come in. I have a good fire. I will have a boy unsaddle and put up your horse and feed him."

         He walked in. I gave him a chair and he sat down by the fire.

         "I am sure you have had no supper."

         "No, but it is too late now to think of supper."

         "Yes, but it is never too late for a hungry man to eat."

         "Well, as you insist, I will have a snack, for your wife can cook the best biscuit I ever ate."

         My wife got busy and then the conversation started.

         "Now I see that you and Rolfe were today on the Allen farm

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looking over and inspecting the farm. I don't intend to have anything to do with Rolfe as a partner on the Allen Farm. It is a part of our contract that when either of us take a notion the other should have the refusal of buying, and I am here tonight to say to you that I demand that refusal."

         I dropped my head and began to think that the time had presented itself for me to sell out to a good advantage. I had several times thought of selling, but had decided that it would be a hard matter to find a man with the cash money to buy.

         Mr. Rolfe had never said anything to me about buying the Allen farm, nor had I said a word to him about selling the Allen farm. I thought for a few minutes, that it would not do to mislead Mr. Fitzpatrick as we had always been friends and on the other hand I did not feel guilty of doing so.

         I raised my head and said, are you willing to buy?

         "Well, yes. What do you want for your interest?"

         "I want $5,000 all cash."

         "That is really more cash than I have, but I am sure I can raise the balance provided that you take my note 90 days for $500."

         ["]I will be able to close the deal with you, Mr. Fitzpatrick I think by 9 o'clock tomorrow."

         Now he said, "I am not going to have a thing to do with Rolfe."

         "All right, the chances are we can get together at 9 o'clock and close the deal."

         He had supper and remained all night at my house. Next morning we were in town, and by this time I had figured the thing out clearly that this was the best chance for me to sell. I met Mr. Rolfe in town and he said, "I suppose our deal is all right," but he meant the cattle deal.

         I remarked, "Yes that is all O. K."

         This made Mr. Fitzpatrick more anxious to close the deal so he proposed to give me $100 as earnest money. He gave me a written description of the farm and the conditions of purchase and paid me the $100 earnest money, and allowed himself 10 days to get the deed ready.

         This I said to myself is all right. "Mr. Fitzpatrick I want

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Illustration

BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF MADISON FROM "THE CEDARS."

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you to know that I really believe that we could get along as partners in this farm for forty years, but as you have boys and I have boys, after our days, the boys might not get along as well as we have. For that cause I think this is the proper thing to do."

         When the ten days had passed the deed was ready and the money paid over. I took the same money and bought seven other farms and added to the three hundred acres I had at Madison. This gave me a large and beautiful farm. These farms were fresher and hence far more fertile than the one I had sold to Mr. Fitzpatrick.

A CROP OF ARTICHOKES.

         At the time of the aforementioned incidents I was living on a farm, which I had bought near Forrest City known as the Neely farm. It was also known as a fine fruit farm. The land being upland was of a poor nature. I bought the farm mainly on account of the health of my wife and children. I paid old man Neely $900 for 120 acres. This farm was two and a half miles from my main bottom farm. After moving on the Neely place and getting straight, looking over the farm and finding that the land was far from fertile, I decided to sow the whole farm in peas, knowing peas were a legume and hence fine to put life in the soil. I excepted several small spots that I planted in corn. I got a fine stand of peas, and looked as if I would make worlds of pea hay. When the peas were ripe I took my mower and rake to harvest my hay crop. This was the first time I had undertaken to cultivate this class of land. I prepared to house the hay and after the hay was cut and raked, I only got one-tenth of the amount of hay I counted on. I prepared the land that fall and sowed it down in clover. I got a fine stand. The clover grew and did well. The next year I took two four horse wagons and hauled from the Allen farm large loads of defective cotton seed. I turned all this under and planted the land the next year in corn. I made and gathered a large corn crop that year. I was at that time taking

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a paper known as the "Home and Farm." I would usually sit at night and read my farm paper and entertain my wife, while she was sewing. I read an article, where a party in Illinois had claimed that he had gathered 900 bushels of artichokes from one acre of land. That did not look reasonable to me at that time. I said to my wife: "Listen what a mistake this fellow has made. He claims to have gathered 900 bushels of artichokes from one acre of land." This seemed impossible to me.

         In the next issue of this paper, I read where another man claimed to have raised 1,100 bushels to the acre. This put me at a further wonder as to the artichoke crop. I decided to try a crop of artichokes. I had a very nice spot of land that I thought would suit for this purpose. I prepared it as I would prepare land for Irish potatoes, knowing that artichokes were, like the Irish potato a tuber. I took a four horse wagon and hauled one and a half tons of rotten cotton seed put a big double handful every 18 inches apart in the drill, then dropped the artichokes between the hills. I cultivated first as I would Irish potatoes. The plants grew luxuriantly and were all the way from 8 to 12 feet tall.

         About the 10th of August I noticed the plants were blooming it occurred to me that there must be artichokes on the roots. I got my spade and began to dig. I could not find a single artichoke. I took my spade back home and decided within myself that both parties were mistaken when they claimed to have grown so many hundreds of bushels to the acre. After a few days I went to my lower farm and started picking cotton, and was busy as busy could be all that fall gathering and housing my cotton crop as usual.

         Just before Christmas I promised my wife that I would be at home on Christmas Eve in order to accompany her to our church conference. I was on time according to my promise, helped her to get her household affairs straight and the children settled. I had bought my wife a beautiful cape. She took the cape, I took my overcoat and off we went. In order to take a near route we decided to climb the fence and go through the artichoke patch. As we had none of the children along and I helping

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Illustration

VIEW ON FISHING LAKE FARM.

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her over the fence, made me recall our old days when we were courting. I remarked to her:

         "Gee whiz wife, you certainly look good under that cape!"

         She said: "Do you think so?"

         "Yes, I have always thought that you looked good."

         By this time we had gotten to the middle of the artichoke patch. I grabbed an artichoke stalk and tried to pull it up. I made one or two surges and it failed too come, but in bending it over I found a great number of artichokes attached to the tap root. I asked my wife to wait a few minutes. She asked me what I was going to do. I told her I would run back and get the grubbing hoe and see what is under these artichokes. She said, "don't this beat the band? Stop on your way to church to go to digging artichokes."

         "All right I will be back in a few minutes."

         I came with my grubbing hoe and went to work. I dug on all sides of the stalk, then raised it up. I believe I am safe in saying there was a half bushel of artichokes on the roots of this stalk. I then noticed that the dirt in the drills, the sides of the rows and the middles were all puffed up. One could not stick the end of his finger in the ground without touching an artichoke. I found that the whole earth was matted with artichokes. And really believe that had I had a full acre in and could have gathered all the artichokes, I would have gotten at least 1,500 bushels of artichokes.

         I told my wife that now I could see that those people had told the truth when they said they had gathered 900 and 1100 bushels to the acre.

         When I returned from church, I at once turned my hogs into the artichoke patch. I then climbed up on the fence and took a seat to watch the hogs root and crush artichokes. I looked around and saw my clover had made a success, the little artichoke patch had turned out wonderfully. The little poor farm, I said to myself: "Just think of millions and millions of dollars deposited in all of these lands both rich and poor soils. And just to think how easy this money could be obtained if one would think right and hustle."

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SCOTT BOND SWAPS FISH FOR MEAT.

         He said to the writer:

         The first time I ever undertook to make a crop for myself and manage it, I had an experience that has been a lesson to me all through life.

         I did not own a horse but my aunt owned a little pony and she loaned him to me.

         I secured a piece of land. I had no money to start with.

         I sold a gold ring for which I had swapped a pig, for $5.00. With this I bought twenty pounds of meat and three bushels of meal.

         I prepared the land and planted it. I then secured a trot line and set it. I would feed my horse as soon as I got up in the morning. Then I would run my trotline, take off the fish and re-bait the hooks. This task would be completed before sun-up. I would put the fish in a slatted box in the river. At noon when I came from the field I would go through the same process. In the evening this would be repeated. By Saturday I would have a nice lot of fish. These I would take out and sell.

         I was too small to fill my sacks and put them on my horse, so I got two cotton seed bags and fastened them together. I put one fish in each bag and threw them across my saddle. I would then put a fish in one bag and go around my horse and put one in the other bag, continuing in this way until I had all my horse could carry. I would lead him along the road and dispose of my fish.

         Sometimes a customer would have no money and would swap me eggs for fish. Another would give me a chicken for a fish. These I would leave until on my return home. Many of my neighbors passing along the road on the way home from town would trade me a piece of meat for a fish. I never refused a trade. Meat then selling for twenty-two and twenty-three cents a pound. In this way, when I reached home on Saturday night, I would have enough meat, eggs and chickens to do my aunt's family for a week or two: besides some little money to pay the blacksmith and buy other things.

         Times were very hard that year. Corn sold for $1.75 a bushel.

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Illustration

BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF FRUIT FARM.

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There had been a drought, and everything was literally parched. Hence meat and everything else was unusually high.

         A quart of corn was my pony's noon feed. While he was eating I made it my business to keep the chickens away and pick the grains from the cracks with a little stick, that he should get every grain.

         I made and gathered the crop without making a cent of debt; paid my rent and cleared $200.00 in money.

BRICK FOR ALLEN FARM.

         The year I bought the Allen farm, Mr. Fitzpatrick and myself in partnership, and knowing that we had to build houses with brick chimneys, these brick had to be bought and hauled eighteen or nineteen miles, which would make the hauling cost as much as the brick. So I decided to burn a brick kiln on that farm. Mr. Fitzpatrick refused to do so, claiming that the soil would not make brick, and furthermore he was not willing to risk his money on my judgment in burning brick.

         "Now this is all right Mr. Fitzpatrick, but this will not change my decision. I intend to make and burn this kiln at my own expense. When they are burned and proved to be O. K. I expect to charge Fitzpatrick and Bond the customary price for the brick at the kiln plus what the hauling would be from Forrest City, which will be about $18.00 per M. I really believe Mr. Fitzpatrick that if soil will make brick for one man, with the same precaution and attention, it will make brick for the other man. There are signs of brick that were burned on that farm forty years ago and they are as fine brick as I ever saw.

         With the experience I have as a brick man now, I am sure I can make and burn as good brick as anybody. So I bought my wheelbarrows, sent down to my home place and got my old brick molds, wrote to Kerr Station again for Mr. Brown. I did not hire Mr. Brown, because I did not understand the brick business myself. It was because I had so much other business to look after that it was impossible for me to be there at all times.