Sidney Bonner's Recollections of Pickens County

"Randy, I want to talk to you about Sidney Bonner, who was an ex-slave that lived on the Bonner place, between Pickensville and Carrollton. She was living there during the War Between the States, and after the War came to work at the Phoenix Hotel, and later lived in Birmingham. One day a news reporter saw her walking down by the railroad track, an old woman bent over picking poke salat. So he stopped, thinking that she would, this would make a good story for him to write about. And, this is what she said to him:

'ADey whistles on de big jacks what used to pulled dem high-steppin' I.C.'ns, de I.C. trains, sho' do remind me ob dem steamboats what used to pull up at de landin' at ole Pickensville, on dat big Tombigbee River.

Cos, twuou'n't no railroads back den, an' de only way folks could travel wuz on de steamboats, which run up an' down most every week, an' de stagecoach, which passed through Pickensville twice a week. Lawsy, man, dem wuz de days, an' many de time after my daddy, whose name wuz Green Bonner, heared da steamboat blowin' down below Pickensville, he would run an' hitch up de mules to de wagon, an' follow Marse John on horseback down to de landin' to fotch back de supplies, sugar, an' coffee, an' plow tooths needed on de plan'ation..

ADey would take me along, to hol' de mules, and watch de wagon, an' it sho' wuz a reg'lar picnic fo' me to see dat big shiny boat, an' watch de goin's on dat went on down dare. Now Marse John sho' did depend on my daddy. He had paid a thousand greenback dollars fo' him down in Mobile, when he wuz sol' on de auction block. It wuz enough greenbacks to rop him up in, so, Marse Bonner named my daddy Green Bonner.

Yassah, we wuz all Baptists, we wuz de deep-water kind, and every Sunday all of us would pile into a wagon an' pull out bright an' early fo' Big Creek Church, on de Carrollton Road. Everybody fotched a big basket o' grub, and, saints alive, such a dunnah you nevah seen in all yo' life! Spread out on dose tables undah de grassy grove by de ole graveyard. Now, I wonna tell you one thing, all de quality white folks in Pickens County b'longed to Big Creek. An' whenevah a slave got sho' nuff ligun, dey jined Big Creek an' dey wuz baptized in de swimming hole. Now some o' de niggahs decided dey wanted to have deir meetin's, off t' by de selfs, but Lawd, chile, dem niggahs got happy, and dey go t' shoutin' all ovah de meadow, whar dey had dun built dem a brush arbor. So Marse John put a stop to dat quick. He said, F yaw's guine to preach an' sing, you must de washpot up, meanin' no mo' shoutin' out heah in de meadow. Dem Baptists at Big Creek wuz sho' tight wid dey rules, too. Man, dey'd turn you out in a minute if you drinked too much lickah, or danced, or cussed, or ran aroun' wid women.

Marse John had a big, fine bird dog, an' she wuz a mammy dog, an' one day she found six baby puppies out in de harness house. Dey wuz most all girl puppies, so Marse John wuz goin' to drown em. I axed him, give dem to me, and purty soon de Missus sent me to de Post Office in Pickensville, so I put de puppies in a basket, an' tuck em wid me. Now Doctah Lars came walkin' by whar I wuz settin' an' he said, Sidney, you want t' sell dem puppies, an' I said, yassuh. An' he said, well, what denomination is dey. An' I said, now you know dat dese is Meth'dist dawgs. He didn' say no mo', just kep' walkin.' About a week aftah dat Ole Miss sent me back to de Post Office, an' agin I took my basket wid de puppies in it. An,' sho' nuff, who came walkin' by but Doctah Lars, an' he said, Sidney, I see you ain't sol' a puppy yet. An' I said, Nawsuh. Den he said, what denomination you say dey were? I tol' him, dey's Baptist dawgs. He say, how come you tol' me las' week dat dey wuz Meth'dist pups? Bless God, you see doctah, dey got dey eyes open, an' now dey has seen de light. He jes' laughed and went on down to his newspaper office.

How ol' is I? Lawd, chile, I don' know. I wuz fifteen years ol' at de time of surrender, on de day dat Lee gave up at Attomattox Coa't house, I remember mighty well. Ol' Marsah John, he called all de niggahs on de plan'ation round im to come up to de big house, an' he said, now, you all is jes' as free as I am. I ain't yo' marstah no mo.' I've tried to be good to you, I've tried to take good care of you. You's all welcome to stay, an' we'll all work together to try to make a livin' somehow. But, f you don' wonna stay, dem what will, will jes' have to root pig or die, an' get goin.' Some stayed, some leff. But my daddy stayed. He stayed with Marse John til he wuz called to Glory, and now dey all gone but Sidney, an' I'm jus' waitin' heah fo' de call to come.

Yassuh, I lived round Carrollton, an' he, an aftah Marse John an' my daddy both died, I ran up, I lookin' fo' a place to work. An' I went work at de Phoenix Hotel. An' I wuz deah when Gen'r'l Forrest come and danced up to de hotel one day drivin' a spankin' team of black horses. It wuz aftah de War wuz ovah, and de folks said dat de Gen'r'l come to build a railroad through de town. He hitched dem horses to de oak sapplin' what had been planted out dar by Col. Matt Thaxton. Now Matt Thaxton wuz th' maternal, th' paternal, uh, grandfather of de Leach children and de Gordan children. An' he wuz Mistah Robert Thaxton's grandfather. Purdy soon dem hosses got skeerd at somethin' an' busted loose, an' purdy neahly smashed dat sappling, I guess it's still deah, but it wuz called de Forrest Oak.

Den I recollect when dat ol' house wuz burned, and de offisuhs, when de Coa'thouse wuz burned, an' de offisahs catched some niggahs named Bill Burkhalter an' HenryY I can't think of his name no mo.' Henry Wells, dat wuz it!! D' offisahs stahted takin' em to Montgomery, but dey got to Sipsey Rivah, a mob catched up wid em, an' dey had to bring em back up heah. An' dey confessed to it. An' I cane' member mo' bout it cept Henry Welles got killed. An' aftah dat, his picture came in de coa'thouse window. Cause it wuz on a big stormy night, an' dey said de lightening took his picture on de window, an' I dun seed it wid my own eyes. I dun inspected dat picture, an' I know'd it wuz still deah right in front of de Phoenix Hotel where I used to work fo' Mrs. Roper, an' Mistah Thaxton used to run dis hotel, too.

But Lawdy, me, I got to get goin,' I's got to cook dis poke salat what I dun picked down here by de railroad track. Poke salat and young onions gon' t be mighty good today, almost as good dey wuz back in Pickens County'."