Halliday was the scene for this sit-down meal for the traveling recruits
I remember: Picking, Chopping Cotton
| The first that really
remember, I think it was 1913. I was 4. We lived somewhere near
Marmaduke. That year in August, a doctor -- I believe his name was Bradsher -- came to our house and brought us a baby sister. This doctor had the first car I had ever seen. While he was busy, I tried to drive his car. It went backwards, down hill. Now to 1917 and 1918. We lived at Mainshore. By that time I was big enough to work, hoe and pick cotton. Back then, kids on the farm either worked or went to school. They made us eat cornbread for breakfast; I never did figure why, we had flour. One time, we had over 100 soldiers visit Miller School and the ladies made a big dinner for them. That was April, before the Armis-tice. The flu epidemic hit. My mother died in October. We sold out and left Greene County for one year. Then we moved to Paragould. Kingshighway, on the east side, was called Junction Street. In winter it was muddy; in summer, dusty. But we had nice picnics at Labor Park. We had band concerts on Pruett Street at the bandstand on Friday nights. We also had a big swimming pool on North Pruett near the laundry. Not everyone had cars in those days -- but who needed them, anyway? I'm afraid I got married after that and went away to Kansas City for two years. But I was glad to get |
back to Greene County until
1929 when we went to St. Louis. Know what happened then? That's
when the old men started selling apples on the street
and I beat it back to Greene County to
survive.
Know where I landed? In the cotton patch. It seemed to me that the farmers
didn't like to chop cotton. That
cotton was really grassy, really hot. But I did
survive. $1.50 per day. Then several ladies I knew had let their houses get in a mess. They gave me $5 a week to clean the house. Some paid me, some didn't. That was 1931 and 1932. By the end of the '30s, they were talking about war again. My father had a friend that knew Hitler after World War I. He got a paper from Germany and kept us posted. By the last of '41, we were in it. So I had to leave Greene County again --that time, to Marion, Ill., to build hospitals to bring the boys back to. Another year out, but we were back. By that time, I had too much family to work. I had to keep the kids in school. I was so busy, I didn't have time to notice much out-side my house. But I didn't leave anymore 'til 1951. I really don't know what the matter was -- there must have been plenty of work, for I'm pretty sure we kept a Democrat for president. But back to St. Louis through 1967. After that, everybody knows. I'll let someone else tell the rest. I think everybody knows more what goes on now than I do. Della Bridges |
Company F visited several Greene County communities during "The Hike"
April 8 through 13, 1918. Tom McHaney documen-ted several of the
excursions including the ones pictured above.
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In the top right photo, the residents appear to be awaiting the arrival
of the soldiers. When they march in, it's time for another picture and
then the soldiers get their orders: at eats
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.Hard Times
1930
Times were, oh, so hard in 1930.
Everyone was, oh, so poor.
We all had corn bread and peas,
also a patch on both knees.
But no one had to lock his door.
Ilene Scott
The superstition of 13 being an unlucky number did not affect my thoughts or feelings in the least in regard to my first day of teaching, coming on the 13th of July. On that day, I was to become the teacher of the advanced pupils of the old Mt. Carmel School, a three-room, two-teacher school.
When Monday morning came, I rose early and ate very little break-fast. I dressed myself carefully, being particular to wear my lavendar ging-ham dress because it made me ap-pear mature and "teacherly." (So I thought.)
I arrived at school early, before most of the pupils came. When the children began to gather, they used their own methods for be-coming acquainted with the new teacher. Some of the timid ones looked shyly in my direction, smiled and passed to the rear room to leave their lunch boxes or pails. the bolder pupils came forward to talk. Some com-mented on the weather, some asked questions about their lessons and still others volunteered general information about the community.
My prospects for the day and for the term were splendid until noticed a large man talking with the older boys. I knew he was not one of the school directors and I could not imagine why he was at school.
After a few minutes, he came to me and said, "Little girl, could you tell me who the teacher is going to be? The county supervisor told me that I could get a good review in the 7th and 8th grades here. I plan to enter Jonesboro Agricultural School this fall."
As this large, 30-year-old man stood be-fore me and looked down at me for an answer, my lavendar gingham made me appear small and insignificant. Nevertheless, I hesitated not a minute and answered, "I am she." he seemed surprised and confused and I felt better.
Mabel Huston Spence
Jonesboro, Ark.