THE POOR TOWN NEWS
Pictures and Short Stories from the PoorTown eBook
© 2002 James D. Pearce and Rebecca P. Pearce

Number 37
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This Week's Picture

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Taking some time from the print-shop grime

Stanley Pearce, Jim Pearce, Joe Dickerson
downtown Murfreesboro, 1947

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This Week's Story

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joe Dickerson served in Co. E, 116th Infantry, 29th Division, in World War II. His company was one of the first to go ashore at Omaha Beach on D-Day, and he took part in several major battles later. He was wounded five times, and received numerous medals. He has written and printed a book about his experiences during the war, entitled "Visitor to Hell." Copies can be found at the Elizabeth Parker Sewell Library, Murfreesboro NC 27855, and at Chowan College, Murfreesboro 27855. In this chapter, Joe tells about his pre-war days.

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WHITE POTATOES AND NAVY BEANS
From the book "Visitor to Hell"
© 1999 Joseph Quinton Dickerson

I was born April 29, 1923, in Northampton County in a little town called Rich Square.

We moved to an even smaller town in Northampton County, called "George," when I was two years old.

My grandparents on my mother's side were Joe and Effie Jenkins. They were married in 1900, on Valentine's Day, and had three children, one of whom died at birth.

My mother, their only girl, was named Fannie. She was born Dec. 23, 1900.

My father was George Dickerson, born in Philadelphia May 2, 1888. He came to North Carolina from Salisbury, Md., and worked for J. M. Brown & Son in George, making baskets by hand.

I was the oldest of their three children, all of whom were boys.

My daddy died when I was 16, leaving me to try to look after my two younger brothers and my mother.

I attended Woodland-Olney High School, in the nearby town of Woodland, and had to walk a mile to school from George. Rain or shine, it didn't matter, we would have to go.

I attended Woodland Baptist Church (where later I was chairman of the board of ushers for several years and also on the board of deacons).

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Due to the hard times, when school was out in the summer I went to stay with my grandparents, "Pa Joe" and Grandmammy Jenkins, near Rich Square, and helped them farm a little bit.

I went to stay with them each summer because, as I said, food was very scarce at our house. With my dad dead, I was always trying to make a little money, so I went to stay with them much of the time.

When my daddy died, I wasn't old enough to work in the basket factory, which was only about 50 yards from where we lived.

We had an old wood-shed in the back yard, and some friends of ours at the factory would bring basket forms around so I could have something to do to make a little money for my mom, to help keep us in a little food and a few clothes when I was going to school.

During the day, they would bring the materials that we made the baskets with, and when I got home from school, the wood-shed was where I stayed until about 11 p.m. or midnight, making baskets by hand.

I never participated in any sports at school because I had to come home to go to work.

At night, when it got dark under the wood-shed, I would hang up a kerosene lantern so I could see to make the baskets. Around 11 p.m. or so, I usually would go in and try to get up my lessons so I could go to bed by 1 a.m.

When I was a little older, I received special permission to work inside the factory, afternoons and nights, and I worked there until I was 19 years old.

The factory didn't operate much in the winter time, and after it closed I worked with REA (the Rural Electrification Administration). I helped clean out right-of-ways for the new power lines they were putting up in the country, so folks outside the towns could have electricity.

As I said, we had hard times with food. We lived off white potatoes and navy beans.

We had white potatoes fried for breakfast and stewed for dinner and baked for supper, and of course we had navy beans on Sunday. That was quite a jump from potatoes, but navy beans and potatoes were what I was raised on.

I remember very well when my mom would go to the grocery store and buy beef bones after all the beef had been cut off them. She would bring them home and boil them, put potatoes with them and boil the bones two or three times – until she about wore them out – to get a little different taste for the potatoes.

White potatoes and navy beans. That was what we lived on for quite a few years.

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We went on one school trip while I was in high school. That was the only time I'd ever been out of Northampton County. I was about 16 or 17. We went to Richmond, Va., on that trip, and until I was drafted that was as far as I'd ever been out of Northampton County or North Carolina.

I was drafted into the army in 1943 and took my basic training at Camp Wheeler, Ga. After six months of training, I received a three-day furlough on the way to Fort Meade, Md.

During those three days, I was married to my high school sweetheart, the former Eyssel Connor, of Woodland. Eyssel was born in Aulander, the daughter of Charlie and Lettie Connor, and moved to Woodland when she was in the second grade. We spent about nine years together in elementary and high school.

But we didn't have a honeymoon. That three-day pass was to be the full extent of our newlywed companionship until I came back from Germany. After the third day I had to report to Fort Meade to get ready to go overseas.

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This Week's Verse

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Eleven-cent cotton used to wrinkle my brow,
But, oh Good Lord, look what it's at now.
We've gone in debt way past our ears,
Ain't had a square meal in the past two years.
Ain't felt no money in such a long time,
I'd feel I was rich if I had a thin dime.

Five-cent cotton and forty-cent meat,
How in the world can the poor folks eat?
Just look me over and you can see
That a good square meal would kill poor me.
In Washington they eat the corn while we get the cob,
After next election somebody'll be lookin' for a job.

Five-cent cotton and forty-cent meat,
How in the world can the poor folks eat?
The folks up in Washington are fat and full
While we've been a-starvin' on promises and bull.
Wasn't we promised a full dinner pail?
Now the only thing full is the county jail.

Five-cent cotton and forty-cent meat,
How in the world can the poor folks eat?
When our clothes wear out, we can all go nude,
But what are we gonna substitute instead of food?

(1932. Bob Miller)

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This Week's Recollection

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PICKIN' COTTON

© 2001 James D. Pearce

Hertford County cotton fields of 1937 beginning to look pretty good 'bout now ~

all a kid needed was a tow-sack with a tied-on shoulder sling ~ didn't even need any shoes ~

you'd throw that sling over your shoulder and drag that bag down the row ~ stoop and pick ~ stoop and pick ~

takes a lot of cotton to fill a tow-bag ~

get it 'most full and so heavy you can hardly drag it ~ leave it at the end of the row and get another one ~

pick 'em up at the end of the day and pull 'em down to the man with the balance-scales ~

picked a hundred and sixty pounds today ~ did good ~

a penny a pound ~ cripes ~ a dollar and sixty cents ~

pay you right there ~ right on the spot ~ a dollar bill, two quarters and a dime ~

we'll eat tomorrow ~ and pick some more ~ good times are comin' ~

frank d roosevelt's in the White House ~ and happy days are here again ~

good to think about the bygone days ~ the good old days ~

and the cotton fields back home ~