“They had good times sometimes.  They talked ’bout corn shuckings, corn shellings, cotton traumpin’s, (packing cotton in wagon beds by walking on it over and over, she said—­ed.) and dances.

“Mother said she never was sold.  She b’long to the Willises in Mississippi.

“I reckon I sure do ’members my grandpa and grandma bof.  Seventeen of us all lived at Grandpa Wash Hollivy’s home.  He was paying on it and died.  The house have three rooms in it.  In the fall of the year grandma took all the rancid grease and skins and get the drippings from the ash hopper and make soap ’nough to do ’er till sometime next year.  She made it in the iron washpot.  He raised meat to do us till sometime next year.  We never run short on nothing to eat.

“We never had but ’bout two dresses at the same time.  When I come on, dresses was scarce.  If we tore our dresses, we wore patches.  We was sorter ’shamed to have our dresses patched up.

“I heard ’em say grandpa’s house was guarded to keep off the Ku Kluck one night.  They come all right ’nough but went to another house.  They started whooping.  The guards left grandpa’s house and went down there and shot into them.  Some of them was killed and the horses run off.  Some run off quick and got out the way.  I never caught on to what they guarded grandpa for.

“I had one girl baby what died.  I been married once in my life.  We rents our house.  I never ’plied to the Welfare yit.  We been farming my enduring life.  Still farming; I says we is.

“Old folks give out and can’t run on wid the work.  Young folks no ’count and works to sorter git by their own selfs.  Way I see it.  We got so far off the track and can’t git back.  Starve ’fore we git back like we used to be.  We used to git credit.  Now there ain’t no place to git it.  We down and can’t git up.  Way I sees it.  Young generation is so uneasy, ain’t still a minute.  They wanter be going all the time.  They don’t marry; they goes lives together.  Then they quits and take up wid somebody else.  I don’t know what make ’em do thater way.  That the way the right young ones doing now.

“My pa looked on me when I was three days old and left us.  I ain’t never seen him since.”

Interviewer:  Samuel S. Taylor
Person interviewed:  Ella Wilson
                    1611 McGowan Street, Little Rock, Arkansas
Age:  Claims 100

“I was born in Atlanta, Georgia.  I don’t remember the month.  But when the Civil War ceased I was here then and sixteen years old.  I’m a hundred years old.  Some folks tries to make out like it ain’t so.  But I reckon I oughter know.

“The white folks moved out from Georgia and went to Louisiana.  I was raised in Louisiana, but I was born in Georgia.  I have had several people countin’ up my age and they all say I is a hundred years old.  I had eight children.  All of them are free born.  Four of them died when they were babies.  I lost one just a few days ago.