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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview H-0190, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Annie Mack Barbee's family lived as sharecroppers in South Carolina for much of her childhood. Barbee describes her parents' values and how they passed those along to their children. She relates how her life changed following her mother's death as she assumed greater responsibility in the household. When Barbee was an adolescent, the family decided to leave the countryside and go to Durham to work in the factories.
In Durham, Barbee went to work in the Liggett & Myers tobacco factories. The overall environment of the tobacco factories harmed the women's health, but Barbee explains how segregation and racism worsened conditions even further. She lists the reasons she did not strongly support the unions and then reflects on the many differences race made in her life, even affecting the color of uniform she wore. Using an illustration from her own work experience, Barbee insists that African American women must learn to stand for themselves, refusing to give up their rights even when the white men in authority demand it.
Because her father feared that she would be sexually assaulted on the walk to and from school, he forced Barbee to quit school before she wanted to do so. She describes how she tried to continue her own education even after she stopped attending classes. She reflects on the opportunities African American children had to further their education and the pressure they felt to succeed.
Barbee did not marry until she was in her early forties; she bore a daughter, Louise, a short time later. She describes how being an older mother made her a different parent and explains her basic parenting philosophies.
Annie Mack Barbee describes her life as a worker in the segregated Liggett & Myers tobacco factories, and discusses how gender, class and race affected her life and the choices she made.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
What is your complete name?
Annie Mack Barbee.
And where were you born?
Manning, South Carolina.
What is your father's name?
Necoda Mack—what you got on there? (Person answers: Charlie) Charlie N. Mack.
And he was born when, do you know? I think he told me October the fourth, 1860.
Eighteen ninety or 1860. How old did he say he was?
Let's see, he said he was almost eighty-nine years old.
Eighty-nine. That would be what
You said you were born where?
Manning, South Carolina.
Now your granddaddy told me that he was a tobacco worker. What is the impression of your father when you were growing up?
He was a good provider and he was very, very strict.
What do you mean by strict?
Well, had to go to church three times a day. If you didn't go and wanted
to go somewhere in the afternoon and you was sick that morning, you
couldn't go out that evening. You just had to stay sick all day long
regardless of how you felt about it. And the church was a must. You had
the family prayer on Sunday morning, read the bible. Everybody say bible
for instance, before you could eat. That was a must. And when you had
company at night, nine o'clock was the limit. They had to go home
regardless. And when you went out you had a certain hour to come in.
Eleven o'clock. Well it was all right providing where you were going, to
Okay, let me get some more background before we move into the factory. So was granddaddy the backbone of the family or was your mother the backbone. I think his first wife was Annie Miller. So who was the backbone?
Of the family—he was. And he was the backbone of the family when he and Janet was living together.
That was his second wife.
Janet Mack, yeah, that was his second wife. Yeah, let's get back to momma, that's where I'm going to go back if you don't mind. To my real mother.
Annie.
Well, I can vaguely remember some of my childhood with her before we came
to Durham. I can remember her cooking little johnnycakes and little
colored things. Hanging 'em in a little flour sack behind the door in
the kitchen. And somebody came through Manning selling these large bible
story books, where you read stories out of it, to children, and had
pictures, you know. And the one that answered the most questions—she'd
have a question period after she'd read the story. And the one that
answered the most questions would get the most cookies. I can remember a
whole lot of my childhood with her at that particular time, because she
wasn't sick. And it was a very happy childhood, very happy. She was a
humble type of person. I've never heard her curse. She'd get angry but
the anger that she got, you couldn't tell it because she didn't use any
kind of bad words or nothing. And her voice never would get real loud.
She was very humble. She was a humble type of person. Very, unusually
humble. And she gave us principles to go by which I can remember so
well.
I know in my interview with granddaddy he mentioned that she graduated from high school in 1911.
She did.
So was she a force in your life that pushed you toward trying to gain a type of knowledge in reference to education?
Oh yes, beyond a reasonable doubt. Oh yes, beyond a reasonable doubt. Oh yeah, she was.
Now let me see, her background was what again?
Her mother and father were—well I won't say they were wealthy, 'cause when you say wealthy I don't know how you say whether it consists of how much they own or how rich they were. I'll just say they were well to do. They lived well. And they owned a lot of land then. She didn't know what it was to get out and work like other farmers in the area—their daughters. 'Cause her mother and father had a plenty.
Well do you recall any instances of her feeling sort of downtrodden basically, since she was living in a type of, I would say middle class or well to do family, and then she became granddaddy's wife and of course things weren't as good as it was living with her parents. Were there any times in which she really felt very sad, or just felt completely upset because of this movement from …
Oh, I get the picture now. Because of the environment that she came out of, the one that she went in when she married. I get the picture very clearly. Well by me being so young, it's hard for me to define that. But I do know that she stayed sick a lot, you know, kind of stayed sick a lot. But by me being a child I don't know how deeply rooted it was, or what it came from or nothing. But I do know she kept it hid from us. She was very jolly with us, very happy, seemly so. And when we came to Durham after Polly, my baby sister was born, then she really was sick. She wasn't well at all. She was sick, but she just held up, you know, because of us I imagine.
Okay, she seemed to be a very strong and loving mother. How would you describe her?
We don't have any of that humbleness from her. Some of us don't. Laura
may have it. She was a meek and humble person. When I say meek, no
outbursts, you know where you just rare up and pitch a fit and go to
pieces. We didn't get that from her. Now I'll pitch a fit in a minute.
What about her physical features?
She was a kind of low brown skinned woman with a round face. I'm trying
to think who in the family favors her. Her face is very round, and she
was little. Long black hair that hung down her back. She could sit on
her hair, and we used to play with it. So I think she'd taken that after
her mother—Indian blood. She had some Indian blood in her. Brown
skinned. I wouldn't say she was pretty, I wouldn't call her pretty. But
her features—she had nice features, you know, her facial features.
Did she ever recall her parents. I know you said they were sort of well to do. Do you know the name of her parents—they were probably Miller's since she was Annie Miller.
Yeah, her mother was named Hester Miller. I don't know, I have to ask granddaddy what her daddy was named. We didn't never see him.
Oh, you only saw the mother.
Yeah. We saw a picture of him in her living room. She had a nice living room and I asked her who that old man is. She told me one day, 'cause I didn't know who he was. And I'd go in there unbeknown to them and stand up and look at that picture, and I said, they called him Uncle Doc or poppa. I don't know whether he knows his real name or not. But they called him Uncle Doc—that's what they called him. Doc Miller. But I know he must have—I'm quite sure he had a name.
Do you know how they acquired their land? Do you have any idea?
No I sure don't.
That was very unusual for a black family to have such a large amount—how much land do you think they had?
Well, as near as I can remember, they owned that whole area. I don't know
whether you go by acres of land—surrounding the house. I can see that
old house now. And he could have had more. Yes, wait a minute. I can't
tell you how they acquired the land, because when your grandmother came
to Durham, her brother—they called Richard Miller—bought her part out
from the home place and gave her some money. She was getting ready to
come here to your granddaddy. So it must have been
Yeah.
Over the property although Richard was the executive over the entire
thing. And see by him being the oldest son, they helped grandmomma carry
on. And somehow or another they fell out, they couldn't make it. And he
took his part and went and built him a store beyond where she lived. And
that's where he was living when he married. When he married after
grandma died, he married again, then he went back to the home place. I
don't know how he got back there, I don't whether he was in business or
what. But that's where he died at, the home. place. So his son now owns
the home place. It's a kind of tangled up. I was a child, I didn't know
too much about it. But you know when you put one child over something
that they don't mean to do right, they'll mess up. You have to be
careful, who you put over it. But it must've been quite a bit, 'cause
granddaddy figured grandmomma couldn't handle it so he fixed it up so
that if he died Uncle Richard could help her carry on. And so, somehow
or another, along the line they couldn't make it. So she just went
downtown and gave him his part and he just went on about his business.
But I remember my mother, she was supposed to be coming to Durham the
next day. And he met her beyond the fence and when she came back she had
a whole lot of money rolled up in her hand. I've never known why he gave
her that money. She said, I saw your uncle.
But it was a large house, very large. Along then, they'd have the porch here, go all the way around the house. Something like these old—the ranch houses are something like 'em now. Only thing the ranch houses are not up. The ranch houses—you know the ranch houses. Start here with a porch and go all the way around. You'd walk from the living room—from her bedroom, all the way down, clean down a long lane, to the kitchen. Large house. But it wasn't a two story. Compared to the houses now, I wouldn't have it, the way it was built, you know.
But it seems beautiful.
Yeah. It was a nice, very nice house. With rooms going to bed. You'd
never go outdoors—if you come from her bedroom, by the living room. You
start—here's her bedroom, come right on out down the
Let's see, what year are we probably talking about. What, nineteen hundreds?
Yup. Nineteen hundreds. My father came here in '22, he said. I can't remember the year he came here. It must've been 01900.
Okay, so that means that everybody was brought up on the farm.
Yeah.
And I think, in granddaddy's interview, the farm was not owned by the family, but it was rented from a landlord.
Well now, when he died he owned the house.
Who was that, granddaddy? I didn't know that.
Probably didn't go into the details about that. He can't remember. That's
why I have to—I'm glad you… Property from this old man, Mr. Dick Tilson,
for years and years. Granddaddy did—my grandfather. Well he fixes up in
his will—he didn't die but he gave it
So granddaddy owned his own—because his father gave him the land. Is that what you're saying?
No, I'm talking about his father owned the house.
Okay, his father. That's Charlie …
Mack.
Franklin Mack.
Charlie Franklin Mack. He owned his own house and about a acre of land. When we left here and went to him, that's where he was at and that's where he died at.
Now where did granddaddy and Annie stay?
Out in the country on a rented—I can see that house now, Out way in the country on a rented farm. And then when he came to Durham she went to her mother's with us, and stayed there 'till he sent for her. With her mother.
Oh I see. So that meant that granddaddy never owned any land at all, he only rented.
Only rented, he never owned no land. No, no, no.
Now what happened to the house and the land that Charlie Franklin Mack had?
Okay. When he got so sick, our Aunt Bessie took him, Aunt Maggie took momma—grandmother. And when they died, Uncle Robert—that's your uncle—came up here and got Mr. O'Kelly. You don't know nothing about him, your mother and father knew him. To notorize some papers and they sold the house to pay for their burial.
Oh, so they sold the house and the land.
They sold the house, yeah. Sold the house and the land to pay for their burial expenses. And everybody had to sign it. All the heirs had to sign to get this money to pay for both of their burial experiences. And one couldn't do it without the other. So Uncle Robert came here for poppa to do it, 'cause he was living at that time. So he came here and poppa had to put his signature on it and Aunt Bessie and Aunt Maggie had to. Maybe the doctor bills, what have you—those two sisters had to use the money from the sale of this land to pay for their burial and what doctor bills that may have accumulated during that time. So they were staying—one was staying with one daughter and one was staying with the other daughter, and that's where they died at. And both of 'em—one of 'em was a widow. Her husband had died years ago. So that's the only way they could get any money to pay for the burial expenses, what have you. So they sold it. I don't know who they sold it to, but they sold that house. And the land.
Okay, while growing up on the farm, the immediate white contact was the landlord. And what type of person was he, was he a good person to work for?
I don't know nothing about him.
You were very young.
Very young, I can't remember. But I do know when the bo weevils came
through—they probably have already told you. The mule died. And what
else died. And he was supposed to come and get the mule, and I got a
first cousing—he's dead now—Joe. That's my oldest aunts' son. And Joe
would come over there and help ma. He'd come over there every Saturday
night. And boil peanuts. He'd boil peanuts in a iron kettle. And Joe
would come over and help her do little things around the house until it
was time for us to move from the farm to her home, that left my
grandmomma. Getting ready to come to Durham, but before that Joe would
come over there every Saturday night. Now I remember him telling my
mother, he said if old McFadden come here and bothering you let me know,
'cause if you ain't going to—he cursed, I won't say the curse word—he
won't find nothing here. Momma said, well the mule is sick. He said, let
the so and so die. He said, I won't bury him 'till McFadden come here.
But sure enough the mule died so McFadden—I can remember seeing him, but
I don't know him—he came with that old mule. And Joe said, the so and so
out there
And so Mr. McFadden did allow the family to leave without paying off what …
Yeah, 'cause Joe—you see, Joe, my cousing, they had some words. And I
don't know what their words were exactly but I know, knowing Joe, told
him he couldn't get nothing if she didn't have it. Or something like
that. I was small then. And so, everything he could find he would take
it to his daddy's. You know, little tools around the house and the plow
and all that. He'd take that stuff and carry it to his father, before my
mother left. So the man really didn't have anything to go there and get
but a empty house, and Joe saw to that. That's her nephew on my daddy's
side. And so we left, and went on to her mother's. And they had to crate
the stuff to bring it to Durham. And every time they'd crate something,
the man at the freight station would tell Joe it was wrong. So Joe
crated three times, I do remember that. Peanuts and peas and we'd put it
in crates, stuff that the man was supposed to get and Joe wouldn't let
him get it. The last time Joe went down to the station, the freight
station, he told Joe it wasn't right. And Joe said, I did everything you
told me to do. He said if this is not right—and I won't say the curse
word—and he grabbed the man. And a man that knew my uncle, which was
Joe's father, went and told Uncle Buddy to send Uly down to the freight
station because Joe was fixing to kill that white man. So Uly got on the
car and went on down there, and when he
It's 01900's and they're talking about, you're white.
Yeah.
It must have been a very reputable family.
They was. Because here's why I say. You see, Uly was know all over Manning and surrounding country—towns rather. Because he had the only black mechanic shop.
Oh.
There's a connection there. Anything got wrong with your car, unless you
wanted to take it to Sumter or somewhere, you had to go to him. Nowhere
else to go. You had no choice, you had to go to him. And they knew, he
knew what he was doing. He went to school for it. So whenever he spoke,
he was heard. 'Cause if a man said, (nonsense), he said, no sir, you're
going to put it on there. And he'd better get to Durham safe. Joe had to
crate this stuff three times, and each time he sent it back. He said,
now, it's not going back. It's not, and if
Do you recall what school did he go to to acquire this skill?
Somewhere in Missouri, I don't know. Yeah, it was in the state of
Missouri, 'cause that's how he got acquainted with your cousin Susan.
He'd go to school with her on his vacation or spring breaks or whatever
you might call it—he'd go over to Ohio State with his uncle. See he'd go
over there and stay with Susan then. Now that's how they—he was the
first one in the family was known to that family. 'Cause none of 'em,
they won't own him. They'd been knowing him for years when they were
growing up, because he'd visit them. And go to Uncle Arthur and stay,
and work around there in Ohio, and then in the fall he'd go back to
school. Yeah, he was the only mechanic anywhere in that town.
Were there any other black businesses that you can recall of?
Yeah, oh yeah. Black doctors. Doctor Whitney, Doctor Brown, and I think they have some kind of printing something. Della White's father. But I can't recall no store being run by—oh yes they did. Aunt Allen and them ran a store. They sure did. 'Cause Uly built a store right there adjoined to the house as something for her to do, and he helped her. Yeah, she ran a store for awhile but she got so old, he had to do away with it. Yeah, she ran a store. See people'd come to have their cars fixed, and he could see to make a business.
Right.
Buy loaves of bread and drinks and popcorn and ice cream and all of that. And when he'd work on the cars they'd go in the store, you know, and get something or another—refreshments. Yeah, they ran a little store, it wasn't a large one. Kind of a small place. Something like these little places we got around here. I'm trying to remember about the other black businesses, if I can remember. Manning was so small. I don't remember no store, no dry good stores, I mean. Clothing stores—I don't remember any of those. I know we did have a black doctor, Dr. Brown. Of course you know, you had more than one white one. But I remember him. He was the only black doctor there. And Stella White's father—I don't know what he was. I don't know whether he ran a printing shop. If he did, it had something to do with the Household of Ruth, that's something for women. That's a old organization for women—Household of Ruth. He had something to do with that.
Was it a type of what?
Something like the Masons and Elks, something on that order. It's the oldest one I can remember, the household Now that's the oldest—all these others came up later. I can remember that Household of Ruth when I was a child. And it's still active. It's active here in Durham. I don't know how strong it is, but it's still active.
Okay, let's go back to you know. I think I've got a substantial amoung of information in reference to the family background. Now, how old are you?
Sixty-six.
Okay, and you went to—in regard to education, what grade did you go to?
Seventh. I hate it, but that's where I stopped at.
Okay, so that means on the farm you went to school.
Oh yes.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
It got so dangerous. He would let us stay with his mother in town.
What do you mean by dangerous?
Walking on the highway, you know, people picking up girls and things. We had to walk so far.
Was there a lot of assaults against women in this time period?
Maybe not. But he didn't trust 'em. Especially on white picks. You know, old white men riding down the highway and stuff.
Were they known for stopping women?
Well, he said they was. So he said it was too far for us to walk and he
didn't have no way to carry us back and forth every morning
So the school was in town.
Yes, lord, right in her back door. Oh let me see, how far was that school from grandmomma and them. About as far as from here to Miss Jones. Go right through their back gate and there's the school.
So did you have a black teacher or a white teacher?
Oh yeah.
You had a black?
Black, all black.
Oh.
Though, I shouldn't say it, but I always—not so much as I did in my early years—I've always regretted that I didn't continue some type of education, you know, after. Even though, although working in the factory—it's no excuse. I could've gone and gone to school at night. I can remember every teacher I had mostly. Miss Reynolds, she was one of 'em. I'm going to tell you something about the school now. I can remember more about after poppa let us go back home to his mother and father. I can remember more of that school period than I did in the beginning, the earlier time when they both were living. This part, after mother died, and we went back to live with his mother and father, now that part …
What year was that about?
Oh, she died in twenty-five, twenty-six or something like that I guess.
But we did go to school down there. I don't—might two or three years out
there. Now I can really remember that part of it. Used to have spelling
matches. And I can remember, I'd sit up at night, and fractions—oh.
Granddaddy and I—I always betted on him to teach me,
Well that's good. Let me go back to your education. Now the type of school, what grade did it go through?
Well the one I went to, it didn't have but one. It went as far as the eleventh grade I think.
Well did you come in and everybody of the same age was there, the same grade, or did you divide up.
No they had different sections. Fifth grade, sixth grade, seventh, on like that.
And how many teachers?
Oh I forgot how many. There was a whole lot of teachers. Different teachers. In other words, to make it very clear, the teacher that taught the seventh grade, she had too many pupils for one teacher. I do know that.
Now how was the school supported. Was it state supported or did the community support it?
Yeah, it was state supported. You heard talk of—Rosenwald used to go around and build these schools for black people.
Yeah, Rosenwald, okay, a philanthropist.
Yeah that's what he was. But it was really segragated, I'll have you to know why I say that. Because our school burned down, we were living with grandmother and grandfather when it burned down. And instead of them building a new school, they hauled a old school. Of course we left there a little after that, came to Durham to father. Instead of building a new school they hauled a old school—out of fashioned—I don't know what you call it—on that lot. That's where it was when I left and came to Durham. Our school burnt clean—and I'm thinking, I'm trying to remember—yeah, the school we had before this one burnt down, was a nice school. It was a school for black folks and it was nice, but the one they moved over there was terrible. Old upstairs and—it was a terrible school. See we left and came to Durham a little after that. But I don't know where the schools are. I went down there and was trying to ask questions about the first one we had. And I do believe it was deliberately burnt. I've always believed that. None of those nice schools like that for no nigger children, no. No way.
You don't have any idea who probably would have done it?
One of them white folks I guess, because it was nice, very nice. Burnt down to the ground. And I don't believe they even tried to save it.
Now your teachers, were they southerners or northerners?
They were southerners, more than likely they were southerners.
And you don't recall whether they got there …
But I went to school with a boy named Harrison Preston. That was a very
influential family there. And his older sister—this woman had ten
children. I knew his mother, she was a real missionary
Okay, now, let's see, you said you are sixty-six years old. When were you married?
October the tenth 1953.
And how long had you known your husband before you married?
About a year.
And where did you meet him?
Let me see, I'm trying to think where I was. Oh yeah, through a lady named Victoria Lawson, 'cause she had a son named Jake and they were friends.
What is your husbands name, his complete name?
Louis Barbee.
Now where was he from?
Chatham County. It's down there near Apex.
And what type of family did he come from. Do you recall who was his mother and father?
His mother was named Edna Barbee. And his father was named Robert Barbee, Robert.
What did they do for a living?
Farmers.
Okay, so the farming tradition continues.
Yeah, farmers. Until they got real old, they wasn't able. They lived in a
rural district but they wasn't able to do anything, you know. Just lived
out there and the children would see about 'em. I don't know whether
they got any type of check or—I don't know—the children, his brothers
and sisters was talking about it. I don't know whether they got any type
of check but I know they got some type of assistance. I don't know what
it was. 'Cause I visited her in her illness quite a bit, his mother.
Then after she died the father went to live with one of the other
brothers. And that's another case. They don't know anything about his
people, on their father's side. But that boy was trying to say
Yeah, and was having difficulty.
He was having difficulty. And he told me that when he came he'd had a whole lot of trouble about his grandfather's people. But his grandmother was a Counsel before she married. So they know some of her people which helps. 'Cause some of her people are still living. She was Edna Counsel Barbee. Edna Counsel Barbee. That's her full name. So they wouldn't have any trouble, they want to find their roots about that, about their grandmother. But they had a lot of trouble on their grandfather's side. They're not having any luck about that. 'Cause he mentioned it when he was down here. When I was up there in March he mentioned it. They're going to continue to search and ask from some of the rest of 'em, you know, to help 'em search the family roots. So I don't know how successful he's been. I never known nobody but him but I knew some of her people, grandmother Counsel. I met several of them. His grandmother's people.
Do you know if they own their own land or do they just rent it?
No, they didn't own their own land but he got a uncle, which is his
father's brother. He owned the land of his father's brother's—called him
Henderson. Okay, Henderson owned his own house, a nice house. His wife
died here about two or three years ago. Mabel, Nett, Betty, and John. He
got four daughters. And all four got nice beautiful homes right around
him. That's his uncle now, I'm just talking about his uncle. His daddy's
brother. He got four daughters and he must own quite a bit of land
around there. And all four of his
How many children did you have?
One, Louise.
Okay, her name is Louise?
Yeah.
Barbee.
Louise Valveeta Barbee. Just put Louise V. Barbee. I never could pronounce that. He named her. I never could pronounce that.
Okay, what is your philosophy on rearing your daughter, since you only had one child. What is your philosophy about rearing children in reference to your daughter Louise?
Well, in my opinion, if you're going to have children, don't have 'em too late in life.
So how old were you when you had Louise?
Forty-three.
Well you married late.
That's what I'm telling you now.
Okay, he was your first husband.
First husband. See I married in '53. Louise was born in '56. That's on
her birth certificate. It's around here, she didn't take it with her,
that's on her birth certificate. So I married late in life. But if
you're going to have children, that's my philosophy—have 'em early. Not
too early, 'cause maybe there are some things you want to do before you
start a family. But don't wait too late. Because if you have children,
you have more patience. Now having children late in life don't take the
love away. I think you love 'em just as well if you have 'em early. But
there's a kind of conflict between you and the child. You know, you're
old, up in age—not too old, but old. And the child will say, momma, such
and such a thing. She won't see it like I do. But when you're kind of
young you can kind of relate to the child, you see. 'Cause you're kind
of young and the children are young, so there's another meaning in there
between you and the child. And so, I was fortunate to be near Polly in
her early childhood. So she was a second mother, see what I mean. She
could relate to her. And part your own—well, in other words, Polly'd
take her children like her sisters and brothers. Her first early
childhood baby like, she was up to her house because I had to work. So
she was just a second momma, see. I didn't spend too much time with her,
only at night 'cause I was working.
Why not?
I wanted her to go but come back. I didn't put that so nough strictness
on her, you know. She wouldn't take it, she wouldn't accept it had I
gone along with it. The way I was raised that wouldn't have worked at
all. I know she wanted to go and I wanted her to go. She wanted to be
like others. And I remember a incident. These children were going to DTI
(Durham Technical Institute) to a
You got to know where to draw the line between permissiveness and, you know, permission, with children. You got to know where to draw the line. That's hard sometimes. You let 'em go and do too much, then you try to hold 'em back. Now that is hard. Don't you let nobody fool you. And then you want to let 'em hang out on their own and then you interfere and they rebel. That's another hard thing. They rebel. "Oh mommy, I know what I'm doing." I said, now what can you do. And the thing—in other words, they rebel against you and you drive 'em in the very thing you don't want 'em to get in. And it's hard, and you don't mean to be hard on 'em, in those ways. But, you draw the line, you draw it too tight or you slack it up, and here you go.
The same situation develops.
Same thing develops. It's no different. You let 'em go too much. Then you
keep 'em home too much. And then you say, I got a lady called me last
night sometime. She said to me, Mrs. Barbee, where
Well I don't think anybody would know it.
Well anyway, I said children grow up over night. And when you do your
very best—I said, and it's another thing being parents. I said, don't
think of blaming yourself too much, it's the age that we're living in.
They hold 'em too tight. That's dangerous, that's a whole lot worse I
think. When you hold—they haven't been out there to find out what it's
all about. They are not equipped to meet it, you know. You're just
holding 'em. Then when you let 'em go, and they're heading into danger
and you know it. You know it, you see the danger. Then you tell 'em
about it and try to hold 'em back and they rebel. I don't think they
mean to do it—they rebel against you. You're their target. They rebel
against you, and it make me sick, I can't go, I can't do this and I
can't do that—let me live my life. Well you don't want surrender. You
keep on bumping at that thing and harping at you. You won't surrender.
You talk and talk and talk. So finally you do surrender. But when you
surrender, don't give yourself the credit. They've seen where they were
wrong, but they ain't going to give you no credit for that. 'Cause a
incident happened to me. Louise left, and I begged and I cried. Going
down there to Fayetteville to see a vet—she met a guy. I liked the guy,
I did. Really frankly speaking, I ain't going to tell no lie, I really
liked him. But, he was married. He wasn't living with
Came here one Friday evening, I'll never forget it. Just crying, oh boy,
was she crying. I got sick as a dog. She was just crying and crying. She
said, "Momma, I wish I had listened at you." I said, lord. She said,
"What." I didn't question, he broke it off. And she cried and she cried.
So I said to Vets, I said, you know I was thinking about that thing. I
said Marshall could've used Louise, but he didn't do it, he was too much
of a gentleman. He could've had her running down there every five
minutes. The way she was going, he could get out about going. But you
see, I don't know what happened between
Now what is your daughter doing now?
She's in D.C. getting a job. She's supposed to be interviewed for a job today.
And she is in school.
Yeah. She got a paper to go back in September. Hopefully that she will.
So she'll be a senior.
Yeah.
At North Carolina Central University.
Yeah.
When did your husband die?
October the 19, 1966.
And was it very difficult for you to make it economically and socially after his death. Especially having a daughter who probably at this time was about—Louise was born in…
She was nine. Nine years old. Nine, she was ten December—he was already dead. Yes, it was very difficult. Economically, socially, and everything else. Because of the fact—I had to be two parents in one. Two of 'em. And at that early stage it wasn't too much of a problem. It was more economical than anything else, 'cause she hadn't got out into the social light. You know, like young girls get. She hadn't never got out into that. But when she began to get in the social light, I had to be the spokesman, trying to tell her what's right and what's wrong. And telling her what's out there. And I had to keep it up continuously, telling her that I don't care who go out there and do something and get by with it, you can't. Just be yourself. And I've told her, I've said, Louise—and I've told others that were involved in it—I said, now if you do wrong, do it 'cause you want to do it. I've told her that more than one time. I said, if you go out here and get drunk, get drunk 'cause you want to get drunk. I said, there's liquor out there, drink it because you want to drink it. Don't drink it for nobody else. 'Cause somebody else will go out there and get drunk and they've been doing it for years, it won't scar them much. They could probably handle it. But if you go out there and get drunk, something might happen to you.
What type of job did your husband have, what did he do for a living?
Domestic. I would come under domestic work, because he raked yards and worked in private homes, you know. Raking the yard, yard work—mostly yard work.
Let me go back to 1922, the family moves to Durham and you stay here for awhile, and then you move back. Well, the family moves back to Manning in 1925, and then later granddaddy brings you back up here.
Yeah.
How old were you when you came to Durham, can you recall. I'm quite sure you were very young.
The first time or the last time granddaddy brought us here.
The first time.
The first time. Wasn't even in school. Yeah, wait a minute. Yes I was. I'm getting confused. Yes, we were in school, because I went to Hillside. I can see some of my teachers now. One of 'em was so mean. I went to Hillside.
Well, maybe you were
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
You know for the early part of your life.
Exciting.
What, the buildings.
Exciting, where we lived at there was something going on all the time. People cutting up and going on. Over there on Poplar Street. I can see that now. We had some nice elderly neighbors, but it was very exciting.
So what do you mean, cutting up, people fighting?
Yeah, fighting and going on.
So the farm was quite…
Dull. Very dull.
So this was exciting.
Exciting. Being children we didn't know any better. It was very exciting to stand up and see somebody, you know, lay somebody out. Very exciting. And some neighbors, that wasn't so nice, using them kind of words, you know. They was very exciting to us. But, it didn't rub off on us.
So he made sure of that.
He made very, very sure of that. But to us it was very exciting, you know, even though …
Well how was it like living in the city with people near you. Because you were on the farm and people were maybe miles apart from you.
Oh yeah.
Did you get adjusted to living so close to individuals.
Yeah, yeah. Very, very much so. Because we was fortunate enough—despite the exciting people that did things they shouldn't have did, we had some nice elderly neighbors. Very friendly. Older people lived near us on the same street. They were very friendly and very nice.
You were renting?
Yeah, we were renting. They were, all of us were renting. Those houses torn right round there on Poplar Street. That's where my mother died, the second house from the corner. And I think I carried Louise by to show it to her before they tore 'em down. And another thing, the show was right round the corner.
Oh, the movie house.
The movie house.
So everything was exciting.
Yeah. Bakery, movie house, bakery, a barber shop, and all that, right there in Hayti. If we wanted anything, we'd go around there to the bakery, get it. Wanted to go to the show, go right down to the corner. They was right round there. The hosiery mill is right over there, people passing by, going back and forth to work at the hosiery mill. So we were really right in the center. We were right there on Poplar Street. That's right in the center of uptown, almost uptown. 'Cause we wasn't very far from uptown where we were living at that time—where he first carried us when we first came to Durham.
What was your first job in Durham?
At the factory.
Okay, so Liggett and Myers. Do you recall when you began working there?
I'd say '28 or '29.
And what type of job?
What I was doing—mostly sweeping. I couldn't stem the tobacco, I just couldn't do it. But they had women stemming, but I never was a stemmer.
Were the women that were stemming, were they all black or were they white women?
Oh, on that side, I'm going to tell it like it is now. On that side where we were working, black women did all the hard and nasty work, that's what I say. On the cigarette side, where they wore those white uniforms and made sure no blacks worked over there.
So what type of hard and nasty jobs did black women have to perform?
Okay, I'm going to describe it for you. Okay, you know, they had a season of year—they'd send tobacco in sheets from Georgia. It'd come in sheets, full of sand, full of everything. It was their job to take this tobacco out of the sheets and put it on a machine. You could just lift it out—you didn't have to—just as much as you want, and feed it in this belt that ran down to a large machine. And then the next job when the green season was over for Georgia leaves from Georgia, you'd work in the fall and take in this tobacco off a large thing called a hartege. It was already tied up and dried out and you'd take it off and feed it in a machine. The same thing, same type of work, wasn't nasty and dirty because it had been seasoned out. And you'd work up there, it was so hot the sweat would be—I never did perspire much, you know. Sweat would be—you'd see the women coming out there, you couldn't find a dry place on 'em. For water. I'm telling you 'cause I was up there. But I never did sweat much, I don't know why. Some boys teased me once, they said, you're higher brown. I said, maybe I am. But I worked with that, you know, condition.
There was no ventilation.
Yeah, the windows were open but the building was so large. No air conditioning.
So the women—now you did sweeping, so that meant that you swept up all the …
Yeah, swept the floors, sweep around the harteges, and just had a broom sweeping and getting up the waste tobacco that didn't get in the machine.
How much did you get paid?
Well I can remember when I worked, that was for twenty cent a hour. Twenty cents per hour.
Do you know the women that were doing the stemming, did they get more?
Well, you see in stemming you could make as much as you want. They gave you so much per pound. That's where you had it on the others. If you could stem a lot, you got a lot of money because they were paying you per pound to stem. There was a lot of money in that for stemming. Oh I couldn't stem, I never was a stemmer. You take that tobacco out and you pile it on a sheet and they weigh it. The man write it down. If you have a hundred pounds and three hundred or four hundred or what have you. But the stemmers made good money because—but you had to really stem the count because—in other words, you was mostly your own boss, depending on how much you could stem. That's they way that worked.
Let me see, let me go back. You mentioned that it was so hot that women would come out just perspiring and their clothes would be wet. Was it healthy working in the factory at that time?
I've often—now I'm glad you brought that up, I'm so glad. I've often wondered about that, because of the fact that the working conditions wasn't all that pleasant. I'm glad you brought that up. And the dust, there was a lot of dust. They had something to kind of keep the dust down, but naturally regardless of how cautious they were you couldn't—they couldn't have something to accumulate all that dust so that it wouldn't get to the workers. I'm quite sure. I and everybody else inhaled some of it.
Were there any women that became very sickly because …
Yeah.
What, do you recall what were some of the complaints, coughing, whatever?
Some of 'em became sickly, some of 'em would get too hot and fall out. Oh yeah I'm glad you brought—they had salt tablets in a dispenser on the wall. When you get too hot you go there and get a—I distinctly remember that—they had salt tablets, you could go there and get a salt. I never did bother because I just never lose that much water. But you can go there and get your salt tablets. They say that would help. And they had a little—what you call it—a dispenser, hospital up there, on our part. But, I want you to get this, they had a small one on ours, but the largest one was on the other side.
So they completely—that was a form of racism.
Yeah. Beyond a reasonable doubt. It was on the other side. But they had
one on our side though, they had one. A small one, you could go over
there and get first aid treatments, the nurse would examine you. And
you'd go home, and then—they had a factory doctor. Dr. Roberts. I got a
splinter in my finger, some kind of way, it wouldn't come out. I told
them that I got it up there in some tobacco, I don't know whether I did
or not. But you know how I had to go to the factory doctor. He treated
it and I waited as long as he say go, you know. Yeah they had a—Dr.
Roberts was the factory doctor. The company had employed a doctor, you
know, he just worked for the company only. How I found out, they told me
to go to him for the splinter in my finger. And I went. And they asked
me, did you get it up in here. I said yes. I forgot, I might not have
gotten it up there. But anyway, he treated it.
Were there black nurses?
Yeah.
Oh, okay.
Carolina Dunn is the only one that had her certificate though. Them others, I'm not quite sure about that. But Miss Carolina Dunn, I'm quite sure she was a R.N., a registered nurse. She worked up there for I don't know how many—and I think Junior Amey's wife worked up in the latter part of the years, I think. I'm not for sure, I have to—I've forgotten. Now maybe she did, in the latter years, worked up there in that, you know, that part of the hospital where the employees could go.
Do you recall any woman at that time that became sick and was hospitalized, you know, taken to a hospital, because of maybe being drained physically because of the work of just being dehydrated, or any instances in reference to a woman who might've been taken out or taken to the hospital because of conditions.
No, I don't believe I have. I know there were some sickness up there but the cause, I don't know. They would get sick, yeah, they would get sick. Some of 'em would get sick and stay out a long time.
What about women that are pregnant. Were they allowed to work up to a certain time, or were they just …
I'm trying to think—because she went to work and had her baby that night.
Who was that, Mariah? Oh she did, she worked up until the baby …
The baby was born that night. I had to think about the incident I knew about because she was the only one I could—you know, she worked in there. I think she worked in there and the baby was born that night, I think.
So Mrs. Judd was working in the factory about the same time you were?
Yes, we worked together up there. She sure was. She and her husband both. Yes sir. Both of 'em worked at Liggett and Myers. Both of 'em. Yeah, they both worked up there. Miss Herlan worked up there, Miss Daniels, Willie, Sadie—what's her name—Sadie Green.
I didn't know that. What time did you have to report to work, what time did you go to work?
I'm trying to think. Seven o'clock.
And what time did you get off?
Four.
Did you have lunch?
Yeah. One hour, it seems like to me in the beginning it was thirty minutes but I think they lengthen to an hour, one hour. I would say one hour, the latter years we worked, one hour. And we have worked on Sunday. You're too young to know about that. Somewhere where their get their tobacco from, the flood came and ruined the tobacco. And they wanted to use it anyway so you had to work on Sunday.
Now were you paid extra for working on Sunday?
I think at that particular time you were paid extra, working on Sunday. And late—I've worked up there long enough to get time and a half for holidays and time and a half for Saturdays, and double time for Sunday.
Okay, what facilities were provided for eating—you know, you got an hour for lunch.
Got a hour for lunch. Had a large cafeteria. Go over there and get your breakfast, and you could also buy your food. They had men up there cooking. Mr. Alston used to live in that house right there, him and his wife, who was named Maggie. He was one of the cooks at Liggett and Myers. He died. You don't know nothing about him. They owned that house next to where Panzola is living. He was a cook up there.
I remember some members of the family. Yeah, 'cause one of the daughters was at Hillside when I was there.
Now that might've been Maggie's son's daughter I guess.
It could've been. So they provided an area so that you could eat.
Eat, yeah. A large cafeteria.
And you could leave what you were doing, the type of work you were doing, to use the bathroom facilities.
Yes lordy. They would take advantage of it too and I couldn't blame 'em.
Okay, where were the bathrooms, were they on the floor or …
On the floors, every one of the bathrooms was on the floor. The only thing, in my opinion, that wasn't so nice—you got to work on the fourth floor, you climbed the steps but they got so they wouldn't bother you about riding the elevator. Which is a freight elevator. But you could ride it. They didn't bother you about riding the elevator.
Did all women work on the same floor or did they put men …
No, in the beginning they had the second floor, third floor, three floors.
For all women. Did men and women work together.
Yeah. But in my opinion mostly men—that was a women thing, mostly the women that work was done by. Oh they got a few men, the most of the men worked down in the pipe—where they make pipe smoking tobacco. And the men would work on the outside where you handle the harteges. Handle the tobacco for us to work with, that's where most of the men work. But the other type of work I'm telling you, women did it.
So most of the immediate preparation for the stemming and the tobacco preparation was done by women.
Women, women, women.
How about children. Did children work in the factory?
They may have, before they passed that law. They may have. 'Cause I've worked with a old lady, she went up there when she weren't nothing but a child. I reckon they didn't have a law. That was maybe when the company was first establshed. Later years you had to get your birth certificate and everything.
Now in the community in which you lived, did the majority of women work, and if so, what type of work did they do? Were you still living on Poplar Street than?
We was living on Cobb Street.
On Cobb.
Yeah.
Well do you recall …
Yeah, not all of 'em worked, 'cause there was Miss Cora Hernley, you know Charlie Hernley barber shop down here. Well she was the one who married Charlie Hernley, but he wasn't with her. Oh yes he did, 'cause Miss Daisy worked at the factory and her sister Ruth—Ruth died, yeah they worked at the factory. Most of the women that we knew real well, they worked at the factory. Mamie Robinson worked there and Lee Johnson. All around the area, younger women worked, the same thing. If they didn't work there they'd work at the American. Either one of the plants.
What about the hosiery mill?
I don't know, that was before my time. Tell me it was blooming, but that was before my time. Yeah it was blooming, but that was in the early years when poppa first came here it was blooming. Black women worked there, but I don't know. A whole lot of 'em, they tell me, a whole lot. Mr. Fogle's mother worked there. She worked there for awhile, yeah. I've never been in a hosiery mill, but now let me see, did Minnie Gaines. No, I think she said cousin Lizzie used to work there, her mother.
So Mrs. Folger's mother did work in the hosiery mill?
Yeah.
Now, what benefits did you receive working at Liggett and Myers. Were there any benefits like hospitalization or vacation and whatever?
Yep.
Now I was told in the forties there was a strike. Do you know anything about Local 308 and Local 194?
Seem like that 194 ring a bell. 'Cause I was in the union, I forgot. I think that 194 might have been the black—they were separated, now they tell me they're incorporated.
Right. I was told that the 194 was for the stemmery and women were basically in that …
That's it—194.
Okay. So there was a strike in the forties.
There was a strike in the forties. I'm trying to think. The strike in the forties might have been before they got established good, you know, got it up off the ground you'd call it. Just before they got it up off the ground. But I have worked under that union, you know, take out union dues. And it was a thing that wasn't compulsory, you could join if you wanted to. But it would have been better that everybody join it because you see, if it became known to the other employees you weren't in it, they could kind of make it hard for you, you know. The work conditions—bad for the work with somebody. When you're working, there's got to be some harmony there to make the work easier for you. But if you divided a group of people over here belong to the union and a group over there don't, there's going to be a conflict, in there. I don't mean they would just, you know, come out and fight you. But they can do so many other things that make your working conditions very unpleasant. And so, I don't know, I was in the union, joined it. They'd tell you not to join in and I said, well it'd be better to join it than to be outside it—they'd worry you so much, they'd worry you to death. And I worked under it to see what good it would do. 'Cause Miss Dora Jones, she lived down here—you know her don't you?
Right.
Lois used to live with her. A incident happened there …
She worked at the factory?
Oh yeah, she was one of the leaders in the union thing the last year.
Oh she was.
Yeah, she'd take the complaints and things. She was a hard worker in that
union. Very hard worker. A incident happened one day, with this young
boy. The foreman was another young boy. So he told the boy, he said,
"Boy, move these trucks out of the way." The boy acted like he didn't
hear him. And he said, "I'm talking to you boy." He said, "Are you
talking to me?" He said, "Yeah, I'm talking to you." "No you're not." He
said, "I have a name 'cause it's on the payroll, and you carry it." Kept
on, "I mean move these trucks." I mean, it kept on. I told that child, I
said, look we're going to have some excitement directly. He went up to
the boy and pointed his fingers in his face. He said, "Boy I mean for
you to move these trucks." He said, "You still talking to me. Okay, so
I'll move 'em." I won't say the cuss word. He took that man by the seat
of his pants. We was four floors up. He said, "When I get you to this
window you going to be four floors down." And Dora went running up
there, she said he was laid on the floor. He had him. Was going to drag
him to the window and pitch him out. And Dora came up there and somebody
told her and when Dora got to 'em, this boy had him. Carried him to the
window. And he had to pass right by us where we were working near the
window—it faces the main street. And honey, when Dora went up there it
was all she could do to make that black boy turn that boy loose. We was
four floors up and he said in a few minutes you going to be four floors
down 'cause I'm carrying you to the window right now. Oh, she had to
call for some of those men to come and
Okay, that's like in the forties. What were the demands, what were the grievances. Do you recall?
More money and better working conditions if I can recall. More money and better working conditions.
And what type of strategy did you use. You just boycotted Liggett and Myers or you just didn't go to work at all.
I think the strategy they used is oneness, you see. Because of the fact, over there where the white people worked and over where the black people worked, somehow or another they got together. But you know, I'm going to tell it like it is. The black people had no choice. When the white people closed down on there side, you see—see how much pull they got. When they closed down there where they actually made the cigarettes, automatically the company had no choice but to close down where we were at. So they really had the ace card over there. So the company just closed down. I don't say the black people did it, 'cause they didn't have no voice no how. The white people did, over where they actually make the cigarettes. All of them got together, and said we won't go to work. Well the company just closed down over there where we were. And that was oneness. But they did it. I've said as poor as black folks is, you know they won't stay home, no, that was their bread, you know. The white people did. They got together and say, if they won't do it, we'll just close down. They did it.
And you got what you wanted?
I guess they got what they wanted. I know that the salaries began to increase. So that was one of the demands, the salary.
How much were you making after the strike? Were you still working at Liggett and Myers after the strike?
I worked at Liggett and Myers up until 1963. 'Cause I went up there to
see about something one day and the man over there in that know Poppa
said, yeah you worked here as late as '63. I said '63 is seasonal work.
You know, working the season. You work with green tobacco see, when
that's over you're out. So he told me and I said, what. And he said
yeah, it's on record. You worked your last working period was in '63.
And as near as I can remember—I got some of
So when you were doing the job of sweeping the floors you were just working as a full time employee.
Yeah.
And then later on you switched to a seasonal type of work.
When the machines came. There was a reason for that though. They put these machines in.
About when was that, do you recall?
Nineteen sixty, early sixties. When they put those machines in, and they
didn't need no more black employees. Just a few of 'em go. In the later
years they worked a few black women up until, I know Hannah Williams
said she went back. I didn't go back, my seniority wasn't long enough.
Worked a few black women up until '65 I think. Seasonal work. That's
because, whoever they send back for is because of your seniority. So at
last they phased all of 'em out. I don't know whether there were any
black women working on that side that I worked on or not. I don't know.
But you see, here's the hang up Beverly. When they began to pay decent
wages, machinery took over, you know what I'm talking about. The
machinery came in there and did the work that we were supposed to be
doing. You did it by machine. So machinery really put a lot of black
women out doors. I don't know how it is on the Duke side. They got a lot
of black women over there now, actually helping make the cigarettes on
that side I heard. Now I haven't been in communication with the factory
in so long I wouldn't know. But I heard there was a lot of black women
over there, actually
Now what did you wear in the earlier part?
Blue uniforms, white cuffs and collar, and blue hats with a white band on it. Yeah, we wore uniforms.
Were these supplied by the company or did you have to buy 'em.
Seems like to me you had to pay for 'em. That weren't no good either.
So this would have to come out of your check.
Yeah, we had to pay for 'em. I always thought that was—but they were
pretty. Along then when Liggett and Myers was in their bloom a lady came
from New York—I don't know who that lady was. And we were going downtown
one day and she said, "Where do you all work. I came to Durham
especially to see Liggett and Myers." I said we worked at Liggett and
Myers. She said, "Is everybody uniformed?" I said, yeah, everybody is
uniformed. She said, "I'm going to have to get me a picture of this." I
said well, you'll have to go to the main office. She said, "Where is the
main office?" I told her where to get to the main office. She said,
"I've got to have one." And she was standing up there in front of Roses.
No, United Auto Store. And she was standing up just looking. Kind of
early, you know, her early sixties. She said, "I've never seen nothing
like this in all of my life. I've got to have a picture." I said, well
you go up there and they'll tell you how to get a picture. Wanted to get
a picture of all the employees in all this blue. And they had a lawn
over there right where the office is now. And honey, all out
Now in the earlier years in the twenties, in the later twenties, do you know of any woman that was fired?
Lord they'd fire 'em all the time honey.
Why?
Yeah, they would fire 'em. There's a lot of prejudice up there among the—I call 'em the little foremens.
Were there any black foremans?
Yeah.
Were there any black women foremen or supervisors?
No, I wouldn't call 'em supervisors, they just had a little job to go around and read the meters. You know the stemming machine had a meter on it. They could go around and read the meters and things like that.
Now this was in the later twenties.
No, that was later than that, must be '44.
What about the later twenties, were there any black women who were…
Not that I know of.
So all your foremen were men …
And white.
In the later twenties.
Yeah, men and white. All of them was white.
Well how did they relate to black women working. Basically what I'm trying to get at is how did they treat you.
Now, that's the thing. Oh they'd treat you nice. But some of our women made it very hard by being so humble.
So they would say yes sir or mister.
Being humble. I had a incident that happened to me and they was fixing to
fire me. I went to New York with Dorothy Campbell, you know the
Thompsons around here, Gertrude and all—her aunt, Dorothy, Dee and I,
her mother is too. Well I went to New York and stayed with her, she and
Marie, in the early forties. I was up there during the strike in Harlem.
It's been so long, you don't know nothing about that. Buddie Farrington
her brother, came over there to take me to Harlem. They were striking
over there, I told him I didn't want to go. So I went to New York and
stayed two weeks and never did see Harlem. Went up there and stayed. And
I told Marie, Marie
[END OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE B]
'Cause I wouldn't buy it. Coming up there an telling old nasty jokes.
Who was that?
The foreman, saying old nasty jokes.
In front of women?
They joined in, I'm telling you now.
Black women
Well, you just don't know. You see, I think some of these women ought to tell the young people how it is. I think it's time for them to tell how it is. Any two time you put yourself on the line and don't demand respect and carry yourself in a way that makes somebody respect you, that's your fault. I don't care if it's the president of the United States, I'm a person and I demand respect. If it costs me something I'll pay it. They didn't do it. They'd laugh and play them old nasty jokes and here they go. And I would never laugh. Someone'd say, you so solemn. I said I'm up here to work, 'cause that's my purpose in this factory, is to work. And I don't tell nasty jokes whether they're black or white, nobody, I don't tell no nasty jokes with nobody. I said, I'm a person. I said well if you're scared you're going to get fired and let them man fumble your behind and say all that …
They didn't do that did they? The white foremen would do this to black women?
Who was at fault. They were. If you don't put dignity on you there ain't
nobody else who's going to do it. You sit around here and don't put it
on you, who else going to put it on you. You're a
So that means you were living with him and …
No, I think he was over there with Miss Carrie. Him and Polly and Laura.
So where were you?
I was there with them too but in New York at that time.
Oh so the rest of the sisters had already married out.
Yeah, me, Polly, Laura and I were living together. And I went to New York
and stayed two weeks and left them in the house. He never did know that
they sent for me. They told your momma. She's the one that had them to
call me. Tell me to come back and Mr. Vicker see,
So let me get an idea of how you were working in your seasonal. It was a very large room that you worked in.
Yeah, everybody. All this whole thing and Lottie, over there was Ms. Jones.
Okay, now you had tables and chairs, you know, how was it set up?
You were standing. No tables and chairs, you were standing.
You stood up from seven to four o'clock?
On the stemming machine, before they'd get away with it. You'd stand here and feed tobacco. And you and two more women putting tobacco on the table getting ready for her, and she'd feed it. Then you all would switch. But you were standing on your feet. No table, no chairs. And when we got ready to feed the tobacco on—'cause when I was carrying Louise, that's the last job I did up there, I think I went back a little after that—and …
How long did you work while you were carrying Louise?
I worked a whole season, 'cause she was just born in December. I worked up until—we got out before Christmas, yeah. And he looked at me, he said, "Annie, I don't think you can …
You were standing up while you were pregnant?
Yeah. He said, "I don't think you can lift this tobacco." He came to me, I didn't ask him. He said, "I'm going to give you a job sweeping. You're not in a position to lift no tobacco. From now on to the season, you just mess around and sweep." He came and told me. He said, "I'm going to give you a job sweeping, and only mess around." So I swept and messed around. I was sick though, heartburn. Physically fit but just a heartburn. I had it so bad, I declare. And other than that it wasn't… And my doctor, I had Dr. Ethel Easeley, she's my doctor. I went to a private doctor. I wasn't taking no chances, I was scared as what. And so she, Dr. Evelyn Easeley, Dr. Richard Pierce and Dr…
That's at the Women's Clinic.
Yeah, that's where I went.
Right, that's where, okay, I know where …
Yeah, that's where I went.
Yeah.
You see, let me tell you. That's why I got to—if Louise come home, I've
got to get to her fast. It's nice for people to work together, if it was
black and you're white. But when things—I'm not talking about nobody,
'cause I married the man—when you know things ain't right, god gave you
a head and some sense. That's your body. I knew I wasn't going to Duke's
Clinic. And I was working, making on my own money, and I went where I
wanted to go. You see, being married don't mean that your husband
controls your whole life. You all work together. If he didn't have no
money, no job, fitting to do, then he might have resented it anyway. I'm
not saying that he did. But I knew what I was going to do. That was my
life and I was carrying his child, it's true, but I was going to look
after myself which was number one. And I went to Dr. Easley from then on
until my baby was born. Oh, I was talked about like a dog. Mandy Black
was one of 'em. "You went to—oh lord, Duke." I said, look Mandy, I had
to get her told, 'cause that was my body. And I knew at the age I was
fixing to have a baby anything could've happened. And I said, it was my
money. I shut her up there one day. She didn't speak to me for a whole
day. "I went to the clinic." I said, yeah, you've had more than one
child too. And I imagine you had your child before I had mine. I said,
now that's my money. And I went where the doctor's going to look after
me. She said, "They do the same thing at Duke." I said, yeah, but you
got to go through so much rigamarole.
Nothing. I mean you were just mainly concerned about your health and the health of your baby. And at that age that was the most wise decision you could've made.
That was it. At that age, the age was a factor in it. Forty-three, you
having a baby. Honey I was talked about. "Going to a private doctor. You
can go to Duke." I said I knew about Dukes. I said, sure I could've gone
to Duke. I said, I didn't want to go there. I went where I wanted to go.
And I was taken care of. Because I know Dr. Evelyn Easley is a woman
specialist. Do you know her? She is a woman specialist. Because I had
been to her before and she had my record there. I had a flowing spell, a
long time, about two weeks. And when I got better I went to her. And she
had that on record. Because you see Dr. Austin Secatur; I went to him
first, I'd been to him. That was Ms. Carrie's doctor, you know. When he
got through I said, Dr. Secatur what's wrong with me, do I have a
cancer, something's bound to be wrong with me. He said, "Take these
pills and this stuff and you'll
Confirmed what?
Pregnancy.
So that's what it was coming from.
But how come I didn't have no symptoms. Secatur had done given me all this here durn medicine. I didn't vomit, I didn't do nothing. You see the picture.
Right, so actually he was just trying to …
He had them confirmed but he wouldn't tell me. I begged him. I said Dr. Secatur. He said, "No." I said well I'm married, and it's no harm to tell me that I'm pregnant. "You'll be allright. Take this medicine, this medicine, and when this give out you can get some more." I said to myself I'm going to take all of this but I'll never see you no more.
And so I went to Dr. Easley and I reckon I was almost two and a half
months. It didn't take her long to do it. She said, "I can not do
nothing with you until you lay still. What you so nervous about." I
said, nothing. She said, "Now will you relax." I said yes.
I felt so good 'till I go around there and be doing things and I went to
lift a tub. And everybody says, "Miss Annie, don't you do that." I
forgot about how I was pregnant, until the baby went to kicking. You
know I forgot all about it. I felt so good, and eat. But I was
scared—no, I won't tell a lie, I didn't stay on that diet. This same Dr.
Richard Percy, I went to him, 'cause it was my time to go. I'd been to
Dr. Easley. He said, "Didn't Dr. Easley give you a diet?" I said yes she
did. He said, "What's the matter with you?" I said what you mean? He
said, "You're not keeping it." I said how do you know. He said, "Your
intake of salt is too much. You're not supposed to have any. Your intake
of salt is too much." And he said, "The diet you're eating is not for
you." I said well she put me on a quart of buttermilk every day. He
said, "Yeah, you're getting the milk. But the other things you're doing.
She said no coke?" I said, yes she did, no coke. "She
Okay, now let's go back to the factory. The way you said it was, you had large tables and you would stand from seven to four.
Yeah, when I was carrying Louise though, you stand up to a machine and put tobacco on it, you know. Just stand up to a machine and—'56, yeah. Fifty-six they hadn't made a seasonal planting had they?
I don't think so, I think you said sixties.
That's right, they hadn't made the seasonal planting 'till the sixties I don't think. Maybe they had but I was working in another department. Just stand up from seven 'till four, yeah.
So that was pretty rough work for awhile.
Yeah.
Do you know of any women that had miscarriages because of …
I don't know where they came from but some of 'em had miscarriages, I don't know where they came from. I worked with a girl named Lottie, her children are grown, she got some grandchildren. Her feet and legs were swelled and the foreman gave her something. She couldn't sit but the job that she did was very easy for her. Her legs and feet swelled out like that.
While she was pregnant?
Yeah. And one thing they had—they would try to look out for pregnant women because they didn't give you no limit time to quit. I think you quit on your own. That was up to you when you wanted to go home to stay. You could if you wanted to. But I don't think, you know, it wasn't compulsory that you quit at a certain time. And plenty of 'em worked up there 'till the last minute, plenty of 'em, plenty of 'em. Used to work up there to the last, very last minute.
Did many of these women have to work?
I'm thinking, I don't know, I'm thinking that they did. I don't know. I have a idea that they had no choice. That's in my opinion, I could be wrong. They had no choice. And some women worked I reckon, because they'd been up there so long so the habit of working. But I know I'm of the opinion they had to.
Now did many of them have large families?
Not all of 'em.
Do you recall?
There's some of 'em was just starting out on their families, their families wasn't very large. Just starting out on their families. Some of 'em was kind of young, you know, starting out.
So this was basically the type of work that black women could easily get.
Yes, and I think it was paying more than anything else. For economic reasons—the pay was better, yeah. In the end it was rather.
What are your dislikes about working, as a woman, in a factory at Liggett and Myers in the latter twenties. What are your likes about it, or are there any advantages or disadvantages, in the latter twenties when you began to work.
In the latter twenties when I began to work up there—when a young woman
begins to work in a place like that, I don't know whether they were
paying more or less at that time than domestic work. But a young woman
going in a place like that to work, you never get anywhere in your
goals, you just get up there and work and then it becomes habit forming.
You just work, work. A lot of 'em did though—I've known quite a few
women quit working up there. Some of 'em went to taking up something
else, some of 'em became beauticians, what have you. But it was a few,
the ones that didn't outnumbered the few. So, I wouldn't advise no young
woman to go in a place like that, and stay, no. No young woman,
especially a young woman. It's allright to go there and get some money
for awhile but once you get there and get stuck, you don't try to go
nowhere, you just stay there. Not only Liggett and Myers, any place like
that. In other words, what I'm trying to say, I wouldn't advise no young
woman to go in a place like that with no hopes of
Now would you say in the latter twenties that the working conditions were worse.
When I worked up there, the twenties. Yeah it was worse. In other words, what I would say, when they made it better everybody was about gone, you know. When they made it better—more benefits, you could get shares of anything, your daddy got shares in the company. The mass of people didn't get that.
What about deaths among black women. Let's see, you worked from '29 to '65. Within that time span do you know of any black women who worked in tobacco at Liggett and Myers that died—I'm quite sure they died.
I know what you mean.
But what about the age, maybe, at which they died, or maybe the cause of their death or anything like that?
No, 'cause most of the women I knowed—just a few blacks died but I don't
know the cause of their death. That's a funny thing, I'm glad you
brought that up. It's a funny thing that the most women that I know—of
course they might have been old when I got acquainted
Okay, anything else you want to add in reference to your experieces at the factory.
Well, one thing I can say is this. A mass—of course it could be better
now—a mass of black women working for a large company like that, no. If
the conditions is allright in the beginning, maybe it's better. But you
see, in the early twenties when I went there, maybe they weren't paying
much nowhere. But I'm saying about what you have to do. You're over here
doing all the nasty dirty work. And over there on the cigarette side—I
don't know what they get—the white women over there wear white uniforms.
See what I'm talking about. Wearing white uniforms and white dresses.
And you're over here handling all that old sweaty tobacco though, you
see. There's a large difference. We both going to smoke the cigarettes,
oh yeah. I don't smoke but some women do smoke. Now if you got a group
of people and both of 'em are making your product, why not make working
conditions equal, why not do that. I've thought about it. Don't you
think I have, but I have. Why not make it equally. If you don't want to
work 'em in the same place, make the working conditions better where
they are, whatever they're doing.
Yeah the benefits.
Direct from the company only, see, direct from the company. I don't get nothing from 'em.
Let me ask you, with black women working together did you all have a type of feeling of responsibility for each other. You know, if one got sick or if the family was in need?
END OF INTERVIEW