Samuel Proctor Oral History Program College of Liberal...

For information on terms of use of this interview, please see the SPOHP Creative Commons license at http://ufdc.ufl.edu/AfricanAmericanOralHistory.

Joel Buchanan Archive of African American History: http://ufdc.ufl.edu/ohfb

AAHP 145 Beatrice Certain

African American History Project (AAHP) Interview conducted by Rebecca Jilliner on October 28, 2010

1 hour, 31 minutes | 39 pages Abstract: Beatrice Certain was raised in LaCrosse, Florida, and as an adult she worked as a custodian at A.L. Mebane high school. Though she was not a teacher, teachers would sometimes call her in to settle students because she had that kind of influence over them. She relates some of her family history, including her father’s farming activities. She also recalls the names of many of the teachers and administrators who worked contemporaneously with her at Mebane. She also describes enjoying attendance at sporting events at Mebane. She also describes some of the people associated with her time at Mebane, and the things she had to do as custodian. Mrs. Certain briefly mentions that at the time of the interview, she was chief of the Female Protective Society. [Keywords: African American History; Alachua County, Florida; Mebane High School]

Samuel Proctor Oral History Program College of Liberal Arts and Sciences Program Director: Dr. Paul Ortiz

241 Pugh Hall PO Box 115215 Gainesville, FL 32611 (352) 392-7168 https://oral.history.ufl.edu

http://ufdc.ufl.edu/AfricanAmericanOralHistory

AAHP 145 Interviewee: Beatrice Certain Interviewer: Rebecca Gelner Date: October 28, 2010 J: This is Rebecca Gelner interviewing Mrs. Barbara Certain on October 28, 2010

in her home. Mrs. Certain can you tell me when you were born, a little bit about

your parents, what they did?

C: Oh, I was born in Ferguson, 24 of January 1924. I was born in LaCrosse, Florida.

And my parents was named James Merits and Louisa Dicks. My parents was

from, my daddy was from Union County. And my mother was from Bradford

County. So all of us come from there to Alachua, Florida. And that’s where I been

ever since. I went to school at ACT here in Alachua until I got married. I married

Salmon Certain in 1948. So he deceased in 1999. I have four children. I have

three boys and one girl. The girl deceased. I have three boys now. And I started

at Mebane in, oh it been, I had two sons. I started at Mebane in [19]67, I believe

it was around [19]72, working.

J: Okay.

C: So, I worked for Alachua County for twenty-nine years and a half. So, the school

I was working called A.L. Mebane, first it was all-Black school. And they

integrated, I forgot the years, but they integrated.

J: Had you been working there long when they integrated?

C: Yeah. I was working. I was working before they integrated.

J: Right.

C: And it was all-Black school but it was a high school. From the twelfth grade to

Kindergarten. So when they integrated, it was the same way. But it was White

and Black school. Teachers, there was already White teachers there when it was

AAHP 145; Certain; Page 2

a Black school. And the children was fine. I loved every one of ‘em. When I said

something, it was okay. I worked with the teachers, I worked with the students.

And the school went along easy. You know you have a few odds and ends, but it

wasn’t the children. The children got along good. It just was the older age, after

they integrated. But none of them was very nice, ‘cause I talked with ‘em. I sit

down and I showed them well God didn’t make us all the same way. He make us

different color but He wanted us to love one another. And that’s what we did. And

I worked at that school until I retired. I think it was 1984 I believe, when I retired.

J: What grades did you teach?

C: I didn’t teach any I just be in the classroom.

J: Oh, okay.

C: I was the custodian.

J: Oh, okay.

C: But I worked everywhere. In the classrooms, in the kitchens, and on the outside.

‘Cause everybody called for Mrs. Certain. So I’d go in the classroom, keep the

children, and everybody thought I was a teacher but I wasn’t no teacher. But I

could do with them, more than some of them teachers did. And that’s how come

they be calling me. But I enjoyed it. And I loved every one of those children. And

right now if they meet me anywhere, they holler to me just like I was still working.

And I enjoyed working there.

J: For twenty-four years, that’s right? That’s a very long time.

C: Oh, twenty-nine years and a half.

J: Twenty-nine and a half years.


C: Yeah. Worked with Alachua County School Board.

J: Did your kids go to Mebane?

C: Yeah, my kids went there.

J: Did they graduate?

C: Yeah, I had two graduate. Leon Bell and Salmon Jr., III. And I had two graduate

there. I had one graduate to Santa Fe, that was Allen. And Carla they sent her to

Santa Fe College there in Gainesville. That’s where she graduated at. So Allen

went with ‘em, to integrate ‘em ‘cause he went to Santa Fe. And that’s where all

of them started going.

J: After they integrated that’s where they went?

C: Yes, after they integrated. They made that a middle school.

J: Oh, Mebane?

C: Mebane. Then from ninth grade to twelfth they went to Santa Fe.

J: Okay, and your other two sons had already graduated?

C: Yeah. My children already graduated. But the two oldest boys, they was there

when it was an all-Black school, they graduated there at Mebane. And there’s a

lot of children that graduated from A.L. Mebane before they integrated. So, that’s

about all. ‘Cause it was a school year, and year round.

J: They integrated in the school year? During?

C: Yeah, they integrated. They integrated and, I think my boys were in the tenth

grade or eleventh. One of them grades Allen was in when they integrated.

‘Cause he finished at Santa Fe.

J: How far away from here is Santa Fe? Did he get a bus?


C: Right ‘round there.

J: It’s right around the corner?

C: Yes, like you’re going to High Springs. And all the children didn’t ride the bus if

their parents’ punished them ‘cause they’d go to school then. So that’s what they

doing, today I don’t know what they doing ‘cause I ain’t been up there in a long

time.

J: What was it like, the year that the school got integrated, at the school? In the

city?

C: It was, well you know how it is. Some didn’t wanna be integrated. Cause Dr.

Goons he was the doctor. He built it for the Black schools when they integrated.

Why, it wasn’t no trouble. The parents didn’t cut up, just one or two. But all the

rest of ‘em was calm and kind and we all got together, they started coming to

PTA. There wasn’t no fight there or nothing. And the children got along fine.

J: And, so I guess I never thought of that but, PTA integrated too?

C: Yeah, PTA integrated. Everything was integrated. Yeah, after they, after

everybody they had just integrated it was integrated all over the world then.

J: Right.

C: So there was PTA meetings, graduations, everybody marched together. When

they had the program, all the children was on the program. They sung in the

choir together. They sung, my boy in Mr. Hargraves, his daughter. They had

sung a solo ‘cause they was graduating. The Santa Fe High School that was they

graduate so they was going to perform the same.

J: Yeah.


C: And it was nice.

J: Do you wanna answer?

C: Yeah, excuse me.

J: When did you move to Alachua? Were you born here or?

C: I was born in LaCrosse, right around the corner. LaCrosse, Florida. And I been

staying here about fifty-something years in Alachua. ‘Cause I was renting over

there, and then we bought this house. And we been in this house ever since

1965. So I’m a Florida woman. Born in Florida, and I’m gonna stay in Florida. I’ll

go and visit my people in Miami and different, Detroit. But I’ma stay right here.

J: What did your parents do?

C: They farmed.

J: They farmed, were they sharecroppers or did they own their farm?

C: Yeah, they farmed and my daddy was a tobacco man, corn and peanuts. Stayed

out there on the other side of High Springs. It’s called, a little town like you’re

going, they called it Wade. And that’s out there on the other side of High Springs.

We stayed out there, and out there was Bland. But he was a farm man. First he

was a [inaudible 10:39]. He chipped boxes back in the old days, when I was

born. And that was in LaCrosse. And after then, he farmed. So that’s why I was

raised up on the farm. After I was born. So after I worked for the county I been

right here ever since. Back when I was working for Alachua County, I stayed you

know, we rented over there and we build it. Bought this and built it, so I been,

ever since 1965 I been right here.

J: Oh wow.


C: And I ain’t going nowhere. Hello Mastercard.

J: [Laughter]

C: So it’s nice. It was nice working for the county ‘cause everybody got along. It

wasn’t no fighting or nothing like that. After they integrated I think everybody

loved one another. And them children didn’t fight, raise no sand or nothing. They

were playful. All of them played football and basketball, they ate together. And

they was nice children. Just a few was bad but it didn’t matter. Or if they didn’t

raise no sand, they didn’t send ‘em home or nothing. They sent ‘em out there to

be working. So they would write on the school counter and we’d get to working

‘em and they’d go back to class. So everything was nice. It couldn’t’ve been no

better. ‘Cause I worked there twenty-nine years and I enjoyed it. ‘Cause I was

boss to everybody, everybody listened to Mrs. Certain. [Laughter] And I enjoyed

it. So when I retired, why, I was glad I stayed there until I could retire. That’s what

I’m living off right now. And I’ve gotten old, eighty-six years old and I thank God

for it. But I’m still alive. May not be going like I used to, but I’m still here. And, it’s

just a blessing.

J: Um, where do you, what church do you go to? Do you go to a church?

C: Mt. Nebo Methodist Church.

J: Okay, how long have you been going there?

C: Oh about fifty years.

J: Oh my goodness.

C: I didn’t have but one child, and that was Leon when I joined Mt. Nebo Methodist

Church. So after then, I married Salmon Certain. We had three children. So


Salmon Jr. was born out there in Nebo at that John Nebo church. And that’s my

church.

J: So Leon is the oldest?

C: Leon Bell, yes.

J: Leon Bell.

C: He the oldest.

J: Um, and then Simon.

C: Salmon and then Allen and then Carla.

J: Carla. Alright, were you involved in your church? Are you?

C: Yes, I’m the mother of the church. Of Mt. Nebo. Singing number one choir. I tell

‘em I love it. Go to church first, second, and third. We just had Sunday school on

the fourth Sunday. [Coughing] Excuse me. Oh, but we have church every month.

And our pastor name Ricardo George. William. William Ricardo George.

J: What was it like in the rest of the city when the school integrations were going

on?

C: Oh it was fine. It run smooth, they didn’t cut up or nothing like that. I think

everybody was lovely. Every now and then a child would do something wrong

but, all these schools been working ‘round here. I ain’t tell them nothing, you

know be bad about A.L. Mebane and Santa Fe.

J: Mmhm.

C: And I think they doing a good job in them schools. ‘Cause now children, they

didn’t like it when I was going there. See everybody, when you walked round that

corner, everybody be getting’ into class but every now and then you’d find a


sassy child. But not when I worked there. ‘Cause they didn’t meddle, they didn’t

with me now. They didn’t play with Mrs. Certain. I didn’t care what color you

were. You come up there to that school, you were mine. And that’s what they did.

And I had no trouble out of ‘em. And all of ‘em wind up loving one another. We

ain’t had no bit of trouble. Them children come every day. Them busses run, they

get off them busses, come around there they know to go in the auditorium ‘til

they go to the class. And you see ‘em lining up. First thing they say, “You better

get in the auditorium, you know Mrs. Certain ‘round here somewhere.” They

wouldn’t know where I be but they know I’m on campus. That’s all they had to

say. And everybody be falling in line. So I tell ‘em I love ‘em. And I didn’t play

with ‘em. And I didn’t carry my problems to work. Don’t care how much I had

going on. When I go to work, I went to work. ‘Cause a lot of people carry they

problems to work and you can’t get along with them. But that’s something I never

did. I had a lot of problems but I didn’t carry it to work with me. I leave it home.

When I come back if I wanna pick it up I pick it up. If I didn’t, I let God handle it.

And I’m going on, that’s the way I did. So I’m here today, and I thank God. The

old master got me alive. I may not can get around like I used to do, but I thank

God for what it is. ‘Cause He could not of, I could not have been here. But the

Lord see fit to keep us. He just ready for us, so we got something to thank Him

for. So that’s what I do, and be satisfied. But all them schools honey, they were

fine. When I worked to them I had no problems. That’s about it. Anything else?

J: What sort of, were you in any sort of, I don’t know, do you remember—Let me

see where I’m going with this. The other teachers and the principal?


C: Yup, Mr. Oliver Jones. Limus Burgess, Mr. Hightower, Mr. Stigmiller. Mr. Whole,

Mr. William, and Mrs., Mrs. Stanley is one of the teachers. Mrs. Margaret

Johnson, Taylor Mae Williams. Sandy Gasset, and Esther Gasset, and Limus

Burgess and Liam Burgess. Mrs. Burgess, Miriam Burgess, Mr. Whitfield, Mrs.

Whitfield, Mr. Bayloft, Mrs. Bayloft. Regina, I got a daughter-in-law was working

there. Regina Bell. She was Regina Tillman then. All of them teachers.

J: Mmhm. When integration happened, was there a lot of staff change or did a lot of

the teachers get to stay?

C: No, it was no changes. When they integrated it was Black teachers and White

teachers already there. So they didn’t change them, all of them stayed in their

places.

J: There were already White teachers there?

C: Yeah, Mmhm. There was already White teachers there when A.L. Mebane was

integrated.

J: Were there any Black teachers at the White schools? Or that wouldn’t have

happened?

C: Yeah, there wasn’t all of them was mostly, all of them was Black people except

one or two at Mebane when they integrated. But after they integrated, some of

the Black teachers went to Santa Fe. I had a teacher up there, Mr. Hancock and I

think Mr. William. And Alice Curtis, Alice May Curtis. But all of them I named,

they went to Mebane.

J: Oh yeah, what were some of your rivals? High school rivals? What were

Mebane’s rivals? Football, basketball?


C: Basketball. I loved basketball. But I went ‘cause when they played basketball I’d

always go. And when they played football, ‘cause somebody had to be on duty

when they used the school up there. So they played football, we’d have to be on

duty. So we were just there working. We’d go noticing ‘round the children and

stuff like that when they played ball. ‘Cause they used the dining room to cook

and stuff like that. And they used the gym for the children to change and we’d

have to clean up for the next day. When school comes they’d use them

bathrooms, we’d have to go in there and check ‘em and out and clean ‘em for the

next day when they come to school. So we always, somebody always be there

when they playing basketball and football. ‘Cause they used to have a football

team there on the back, you know, place where they played football. And

basketball they played in the gym. So we had to be on duty at all time when they

used the school. But it was nice, we had no trouble. ‘Cause everybody worked

together. When they had PTA meetings, you’d have a house full of people.

‘Cause the parents would come participate and it was nice. We had a nice group

of teachers, White and Black. And they got along with each other. So that’s all

they could ask. ‘Cause everybody, whenever the principal come, I closed up the

school after everybody left. ‘Til we hired, ‘til they hired a paid custodian, Mr.

Ralph Lee. So me and him worked there together. So I retired before he did. So

he done deceased but all us worked together. And Mrs. Janet Wheeler and Mrs.

McLeod. So we was the custodians and Charlie Bridger. And we all worked

together. So all of ‘em done deceased except me. We worked there, custodians.

We didn’t have no trouble it was nice. We had, when graduate it’d be a lot of


people. The auditorium would be full of White and Black. And they had a nice

time. You didn’t hear no cussing np nothing like that. It just was nice, couldn’t

have been no better. But I don’t know what they have now ‘cause I don’t be up

there with those children. But those other children, they had no cussing or

nothing like that. Not when I be on duty. But they know I didn’t have it. And they

just is calm, so you couldn’t expect no better.

J: Your sons went to Mebane. Did they play any sports or go to prom or, what did

they do?

C: They played the oldest boys played football. And the youngest one, and the girl

they played basketball. So they played, and the oldest boys finished there. First

day, when they opened Mebane for Black school, my oldest boy graduate ‘cause

they uh left ‘em down there at ACT. They tore that school down and build

Mebane up there, A.L. Mebane.

J: What does ACT stand for?

C: That’s a school, was down there in the other part. That was the first one what

was built here in Alachua. ACT, that was the school name. So that wasn’t nothing

but a Black school. So they built A.L. Mebane. Dr. Goons had helped build. And

they build that, then when they integrated, that’s where they integrated to A.L.

Mebane. So after they integrated they changed it to A.L. Mebane Middle School.

Then Santa Fe as the high school. So, that’s about it.

J: Do you know where your sons and their friends would hang out after games, or?

C: Well.

J: Did they tell you?


C: Uh-uh. One good thing, now my children now I’d tell ‘em, my children, they didn’t

go out and stay in the streets ‘cause I didn’t have that. And we had a lot of

parents strict on they children. And we didn’t hear nothing about they going out

somewhere after. Now these younger group come up, now that’s what they be

going, like to see the girls I reckon. Or play ball or something like that, they’d go

to one of they friend’s house. But my children, I never would let ‘em go too much.

‘Cause if they go, they better be back at a certain time. And I would know where

you were going. ‘Cause anything can happen. See, long and then, children didn’t

go and do like these children. Break into things, you couldn’t hear nothing like

that. Like they do now, these children will break into anybody house. ‘Cause they

got a lot of this stuff going ‘round. And when I went up and worked up there at

that school, wasn’t nothing but boys. Sometimes you’d catch a boy smoking. But

this other stuff going ‘round now, people out here run up on anything. And them

children, they liable to kill you or look at you. See it ain’t like it. When I worked,

them children didn’t bother nobody. They’d go up there and play that ball, they

got a place down there in them parks where they play. Them boys get down

there and they play, all of them together. You didn’t hear nothing like you do now.

But you could walk out and leave your door unlocked. You can’t do that now. You

got to lock it up, bar it up, and everything else and then they come in. And you

call the cops, they come when they get ready. So, that’s just the way it is. You

can call one of our children, and you gon’ see him about two or three hours

before he get ya. But, if they got ‘em here in Alachua, mine in the county. Mine

got to come from the county. ‘Cause these in Alachua can’t do nothing for me.


‘Cause I’m in the county. So the police have to come from the county. But now,

children is, I don’t know why they do. But, I just tell ‘em you have to pray for all of

‘em. ‘Cause all of ‘em is in a situation that nobody can fix but God. We can’t do

nothing ‘bout it. And all our boys going to jail and, Black boys and White boys.

You can’t do nothing ‘bout that, ‘cause maybe some of ‘em wanna stay in there

and some of ‘em wanna get out. But they wanna get out, they give ‘em so long a

time they have to stay in there. So that’s just the way it is, the world today. Now it

ain’t the world, the people in the world doing all kinds of things. And you just have

to be careful, that’s all. But it way different. Way back then, when I raised ‘em.

‘Cause it’s a risky one. Now you have to be so careful. You have to lock up, bar

up, but then it don’t make any difference. This summer, they come in anyhow.

Then when you ain’t got nothing, they wind up beating you half to death or killing

you or something like that. So you have to be careful, that’s all. But the police

sure ain’t gonna get you on time. And when they think they searching, they riding

by. But you try to stop ‘em, they looking one way and they going on. I tell ‘em

they need to be riding around more, besides sitting up talking. But I, I get along

with everybody ‘cause I just tell ‘em what I mean. And they know me, everybody

know Mrs. Certain. ‘Cause I don’t bite my tongue. If you wrong, you just wrong.

That’s all it is to it. And I laugh and I love ‘em, and I just tell ‘em. God didn’t mean

for all us to be the same color. We wouldn’t get along. He separate us, but He tell

us to love if we wanna go to Heaven. So that’s what we have to do. And a lot of

‘em don’t get along, and I know that. But they don’t bother me. I’ma treat you

right. ‘Cause I don’t know you and you don’t know me. But I feel like though I


know you already. Gotta talk with people, that’s just the way it is. So, I’m glad to

talk with you. And I’m glad to tell you something. I may not tell it like it is, but I tell

it like when I worked there with them children.

J: Have you always felt this way about it?

C: Uh-huh, yeah. Always. I tell ‘em, I had nothing against integration. ‘Cause I was

already, a White lady raised me anyway. I stayed with her. Mrs. Carla, she

stayed to Duke’s, and we stayed at Duke’s. And she didn’t have no children and

she asked momma could I stay with her. And I stayed with her and her husband.

J: For how long?

C: Oh, till I was about sixteen.

J: Oh wow. Who were the Duke’s?

C: That’s a little old town we stayed in. Yeah, like you’re going to Lake Butler. And I

stayed with her. They were nice, all of ‘em was. And I’d go to school, she took

me to school every day. And I got along with them. Raised up with them. That’s

because I tell them what I want ‘em to know. All of them, I’d tell ‘em, all of us got

the same blood. I said but, we ain’t the same color. And go right on. You find nice

people. Then you find some don’t like Black people. And I know that, but

everyone I meet I speak to ‘em nice. If they speak enough, I’ma speak to you.

And I left it up to you. And if you don’t feel like you wanna speak, it’s alright with

me. I’m still gonna speak ‘cause that’s my job, and that’s the way I was brought

up. I may stay with White people, but she showed me how to be nice to folks.

And I appreciate that.

J: How old were you when you went to go live with them?


C: I was about nine when I started staying there. So I enjoyed it.

J: When you were sixteen, did you go back to your family?

C: Yeah. We moved over here to High Springs.

J: Where did you meet your husband?

C: Oh I met him, hah. [Laughter] I met Salmon, 19 what 46? 1946 I met him at Boyd

that’s where my daddy and momma was staying. And I met him ‘cause he come

where I was, riding a horse. He had a pretty horse. He was riding that horse and I

met him. And me and him courted for two years. And I married him in 1940, and

when he passed we had been married fifty-one years.

J: Congratulations.

C: Fifty-one years, and I won’t regret it a bit. Me and my husband got along. He did

what he wanted to do but he took care of his family. And I think that we loved

each other. ‘Cause if we didn’t love each other we wouldn’t have been together.

But he went and come when he got ready, I went and come when I got ready. I

did my church work. I went to church every Sunday, me and him. We dressed

our children and we’d all go to church. I was the mother of the church after I

joined Mt. Nebo. I’d go and fix the communion with Mrs. Winnie London and Mrs.

Ella Dobe and Mrs. Maggie Lum. And that’s what I did. I’m doing it. I don’t get

around like I used to but I still go to church. So, me and my husband, I tell him,

you’re just Salmon Certain that’s all. But he took care of his family. And me and

him not alone. ‘Cause I was intending, I’d tell him, if he leave, I’ma stay in the

house. So that’s what I did. We stayed together ‘til the Lord took him. It was fifty-

one years, and if he’d have lived ‘til January. But he died 1999. So, I tell him that


was a blessing. Me and him. I enjoyed married life, ‘cause I did my church work.

That didn’t stop me from working for the Lord. And we worked every day, he’d

come in and help with the children when they were small. When they got up

some size them children do it themselves. So I kept my aunt, my two aunts. And I

kept my mother-in-law. And I cared for my daddy and his mom and them when

they was sick. I, my sisters and brothers, I kept all of them when they was sick,

and worked every day. But I thank God for it. So I enjoyed it.

J: What did your husband do?

C: Telephone.

J: Like laying telephone wires or?

C: Yeah he worked for A&T, Alltel.

J: Alltel.

C: Yeah he worked for them. He worked for them for oh, about thirty-something

years. A long time, before he retired. So that’s, that’s all I can go way back.

[Laughter] But it’s a blessing. That I can think of all of that. ‘Cause there’s the

times go by, sometime you forget. I didn’t forget, ‘cause all of them teachers’

names, every one of them. They would ride up there to Mebane. And now, I think

half of them deceased. I don’t know about Mrs. Stanley. Of course, I ain’t see

none of them a long, long time. Nobody but Katie May and Mr. Jones, Oliver

Jones. He was one of the principals. And Hightower, he was one of the

principals. Limus Burgess, Mr. Stigmiller. That was a White man that teacher, I

ain’t see him since he left. And Bethel Hall. There were lots of ‘em. Mr. Spencer,


Arthur Spencer, I think his name, we just called him, he wasn’t Arthur, he was

Dover Spencer. But one of ‘em run the drugstore in Alachua.

J: He ran the drugstore?

C: One of the Spencer’s run the drugstore. The other Mr. Spencer was he was the

principal. I just called him Mr. Spencer. I don’t know whether he still living or not.

But every one of them teachers was nice. Mr. Spencer was a nice man, the

principal. Of course all of ‘em treated me nice. ‘Cause I was behaved custodian

and everybody called me when they wanted something. So everybody was nice

to each other. We ain’t had no problems. Not with the teachers and they had

none with the children when they integrated. Everything went just fine. ‘Cause

that police come ‘round, they be checking ‘round, and we ain’t had no problems.

J: The police would come during the school day or?

C: If they need ‘em they’d come, but they mostly check in the afternoon after all the

children leave. And at night, they’d come and check ‘round. But they didn’t come

unless they needed ‘em. And we sure didn’t need none of ‘em. Some of ‘em had

children going to school, and they’ll come up there. Outside of that, they didn’t

come up there to Mebane. ‘Cause ain’t nobody need ‘em. Wasn’t nobody doing

anything. The children wasn’t cutting up, so we don’t need no police up there.

‘Cause all of ‘em stayed in the classroom. They’d see me coming, they go in that

classroom. There would be nobody on that walkway but me, ‘cause they know I

[laughter] if they go in the bathroom and huddle up, I’d go in there and get ‘em

and bring ‘em out, send ‘em to class. And that’s what we did. And I enjoyed it.

[Laughter] I think they enjoyed me too.


J: When did, how did you start at Mebane? How did you get your job there, do you

remember?

C: Uh, Mr. Whitfield. I was working for Clay Whitfield and cooking for him. And

Arely, Arely was working to the schoolhouse. So she wanted to change jobs and

work to the house. So that’s when I started working to Mebane. And Mr. Whitfield

was the principal there. So I worked there ‘til, twenty-nine years and a half. So

Arely, she went to the house anyway. That was a Black girl. We had swapped

jobs. So I worked there twenty-nine years and a half. ‘Til I retired, so that’s where

I was working. And me and her just swapped. She went to the house and I went

to the schoolhouse. ‘Cause she said there was too many rooms. We had about

fifteen rooms and you had to sweep ‘em. And you had to scrub them floors, you

had to wipe them. And you had to strip ‘em, put sealant on the floor. I did all of

that. And I said Lord have mercy, it’s something I ain’t never did. But I learned

how to run that scrubbing brush, and we’d scrub them floors and have ‘em so

pretty and clean. And hate for ‘em to go in there the next morning and mess ‘em

up, but they have to go in there. But a lot of them kept the room clean, and a lot

of ‘em they tried. But we didn’t, I didn’t holler at them I just told ‘em, I said, “Y’all

can help us cleaning.” When the children leave, let them pick up the paper.

‘Cause we had them dust mops that you’d push round, but I had to sweep mine. I

just couldn’t stand all that paper ‘cause that mop didn’t get it. Round there in

them cracks that mop didn’t get that, it’d push it up there in them cracks. And I

just had to sweep, I’d rather sweep than to push that mop. So that’s what we did.

Sometimes there’d be dirt there around the sink where the children washed their


hands and drop it on the floor and walk in it. Mop it up. Keep it clean. They wasn’t

in no dirty class, they’d do that in the daytime. So I told them, the teacher, I said

we got napkins there, we got everything to wash their hands. And when they get

through washing it, get your napkin and dry your hands before you walk ‘round

and drop it on the floor. And so that’s what they did. They got carpet on the floor

now so I don’t know, I don’t know how them people do it. But we didn’t have

carpet, nothing but in the office and in the library. And them was the only two

places we had carpet. ‘Cause we had to mop that kitchen, and the dining room,

we did all that mopping. And you’d mop after them, put that soap on that mop

and you’d clean. That’s the only way you’d get that tile clean. And you can tell, I

could tell where I mopped. ‘Cause the other person, you had to mop it and wet it

with soap then go back and rake it. And then take your mop and dry it up. But

when they go in there, if you don’t go in there together, you could walk and you

could look what each one of us had mopped, ‘cause it ain’t gonna be the same.

And then we start, I started all of us going there together. Then it’d be the same.

But if we didn’t, mine would be cleaner ‘cause I’d rake mine. Take that mop and,

we had about wide as this house for each one of us in that diner. And you could

tell the difference, I can. So that’s the way we had to do it but all of us got along.

We didn’t have no arguments. Sometimes I’d get so tickled out. I had to go.

‘Cause they talking about, “Sir you boss everybody.” It didn’t make no difference,

they wanted a clean place they got to help us keep it clean. And they put a lot of

paper down. I told them, “Go back and get that paper. Don’t drop no paper right

there on that sidewalk. If you drop it, pick it up.” You want a clean place, you got


to help keep it clean. And that’s what they do. I tell the principal, pick it up.

‘Cause he dropped, and I told him, “Wait a minute.” That was Mr. Stigmiller. I

said, “You want a clean place, you dropped a piece of paper.” “Oh Mrs. Certain,

did I drop that?” I said, “You sure did, go back and get it.” He went on back and

picked it up. [Laughter] I enjoyed it, and when I retired I still, I went up there a

couple of times. Just walked around and looked. But it sure wasn’t like when I

was there.

J: When did you become head custodian?

C: I become a custodian when I got there. And they hired me. I worked there about

a year and a half before they put me in head.

J: Oh wow.

C: So I had to go up there 5:00 and light the burners, ‘cause they had them heaters.

They had central and air heat, in the wood buildings they had them old heaters.

And I had to go up there, 5:00, and light them burners and things so it’d be warm

when it gets cold. And that’s what I did. ‘Til they hired Mr. Ralph Meeks, put him

to be the head custodian. And I was glad ‘cause I got tired as well. I went just as

soon, ‘cause I learned him how to cut the heat off and run that scrubbing breast.

And everything he know, how to lock up. ‘Cause he was driving the school bus.

So we got along. I was glad when they hired him. I got a little tired, going up

there 5:00 in the morning. But, I went on to work. So when they hired him to be

the head custodian that was better for me.

J: How old was your youngest when you went to work?


C: Oh Lord. They were about six years old. ‘Cause my children went to kindergarten

with the Leap preschool over there. They was down the hill there. My children

were going to school, all of ‘em. Them two, and then they started going to regular

school ‘cause they had kindergarten up there in Mebane.

J: Oh really?

C: Uh-huh, they had kindergarten there. And mine went to kindergarten in school.

Them now, that’s the great-grandchildren. The girl coming there, that’s the

grandchild.

J: Oh my goodness.

C: All of ‘em went to Leap preschool over there. The house full, I get rid of another

group here and another come. So I just keep a house full.

J: Does most of your family still live here?

C: Uh-huh.

J: Children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren?

C: Grandchildren, yeah. All these my grandchildren that live here. All my children,

my three boys, my girl’s deceased. She passed. I got a boy in North Carolina.

And I got one drives a truck. He just called me in Texas. I got one in the nursing

home, that’s the oldest boy. ‘Cause he had a stroke.

J: I’m very sorry.

C: So he in the nursing home. But he doing good. He married. His wife stay in

Gainesville over there on 8th Avenue. But he doing real good ‘cause he’s a big

man. Weigh about 400 pounds.

J: Oh goodness.


C: But he probably done lost some weight. I tell him, do good and thank the Lord.

‘Cause he may not wanna be there but they take care of him. Give him his

medicine and stuff. He got something to thank God for, he got a place to go.

J: Yeah.

C: ‘Cause everywhere you got to pay somewhere to stay. So, it’s good, and he

doing real good. And I thank the Lord.

J: Yeah, definitely. I was wondering if we could shift gears a little bit and talk a little

bit about the civil rights movement and voting. Do you remember the first time

you voted?

C: Oh. I been voting ever since I was eighteen.

J: Really?

C: Mmhm. So I’ve been voting a long time.

J: Wow.

C: I’m eighty-six now and so, I just sent off the ballot. I can’t tell you who I voted for.

J: [Laughter]

C: But so many people running and you don’t know all them people. You can’t vote

for everybody.

J: Right.

C: So I just vote what the good Lord tell me to do, I do that. ‘Cause you don’t know

who gonna win. ‘Cause nobody can’t do nothing by themselves. I don’t care how

many votes, how many people get in there. And if they get in there, if they don’t

pull together, they can’t do nothing. They got to work together. And then you got

to have a little that gonna stick with it. And they follow you. ‘Cause I’m the chief of


the female protection, and I’m the president of Lloyd Number Three. And you got

people that ain’t gonna do what you ask them to do. But if they would lead, and

they want you to do what they do. But it’s like I tell ‘em, I can’t make nobody do

anything. If you don’t, if God don’t let you do it in your mind, that’s you and Him.

I’m gonna do right, and I’ma treat you right. Whether you treat me right or not,

I’ma do that. ‘Cause that’s what I’m here for. You can’t be a leader and hate this

and hate that. You got to love everybody, whether they love you or not. So that’s

the way I do it. A lot of them don’t care for me, but it don’t matter. But just like I

tell ‘em, they don’t take care of me. They don’t give me that piece of bread. So

what I’ma worry or get mad with them? You don’t get mad with them. You love

‘em. And that’s what, that’ll make ‘em say well, “We don’t like her but she love

us.” Love ‘em. Talk with ‘em. And I like your attitude ‘cause you, I can feel

people. I can feel you and you don’t wanna talk. I can walk in a place and look

like my mind or sit down and somebody will talk to me. That’s the way I do. And

singing, like the spirit, the spirit works with me a lot. And the spirit will tell me to

sing such and such a song, I’ll do that. But I got to feel and work with that spirit.

So that’s the, that’s the way the world go. Love ‘em, whether they love you or not.

They may not wanna have contact with you, but you might not say nothing to

‘em. And they’ll look at you, well she don’t wanna speak or something. A lot of

time people be prayin’. When you see ‘em don’t speak, a lot of time people be

praying. And some of them will tell you, “Oh I didn’t see you.” ‘Cause my mind,

they have their mind somewhere else. And I do that sometimes but I don’t forget

to speak now. God don’t send me somewhere and I don’t walk by you and don’t


say, “Good morning, good evening.” If I know you I say, “How you doing? Yes

ma’am, no ma’am.” But a lot of ‘em ain’t gonna do that.

J: Have you always been active in the community? And taking leadership

positions?

C: Yeah, mmhm. Going out and praying for people, seeing people. And it’s just a

blessing. Since I been on oxygen I go with the, the members meeting with some

of the females and ladies. We go different places and see a bunch of members.

Go to the nursing home, have prayer with ‘em and stuff. I just enjoy it. I have to

go on dialysis three times a week so, I get up about 4:00 in the morning. Get

ready, and my granddaughter and them carry me on. And pick me up. So I’ve

been on that ever since 2005. So this is 2010.

J: That’s incredible.

C: Mmhm. So, I’ma go Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Have to go in the morning.

So it’s just a blessing. But that’s about all.

J: Is there anything else you wanna share? Any other stories? Parting words of

wisdom.

C: No but, that’s about all. Gone ‘round the whole world. [Laughter] I enjoyed it. Just

one of those, one of those times and it’s just a blessing for me to even think all of

that. ‘Cause I can’t think of half of it. Just I got up where I could work. Like A.L.

Mebane, worked at each school. ‘Cause when I was the supervisor I went all

over Gainesville schools, meeting and stuff, when they’d have meetings. ‘Cause

my supervisor, he was a White fellow named Mr. King. Arthur King, I don’t know

whether he living or dead. He was a nice man. ‘Cause me and him worked


together. Now that’s one man, he worked with people before they was integrated,

he was our supervisor. And he was nice, he treated everybody alike. Didn’t make

him no different. When he come to them schools, those all-Black schools, he

treat you just like he treated the White schools. And when you find people like

that, that’s a good supervisor. Mr. King was real, ‘cause he said he was working

for a living just like me. And we wasn’t getting nothing when we working there for

that county. They get money now but we wasn’t getting no money. ‘Cause we, a

whole month was just sixty-four dollars. That was the whole month. You worked

them four weeks, and they take out a dollar and a quarter for retirement or

something like that. Maybe two dollars the next time. And shoot, them people

make money now. But you hadn’t made no money. That wasn’t no money, sixty-

four dollars for a whole week, four weeks. And you worked from eight ‘til seven.

J: At the school?

C: At the school, yeah. Some of ‘em, I went to work 5:00 and didn’t get home ‘til

nine.

J: At night?

C: At night.

J: Wow.

C: For sixty-four dollars. But I didn’t grumble, I stayed there. ‘Cause everything

along then was cheap. You could get twenty-five cents worth of meals or grits or

something, it’d last you a long time. See it ain’t that way now. You buy them by

the pack. You go into these people stores, if you don’t get a hundred or two

hundred dollars, you ain’t getting no groceries. So it ain’t like it used to be.


Everything is going up. Everything but wages, they don’t wanna pay you nothing

with wages. But they can charge you with that food. You go in these stores, you

go in these people’s stores you better have some money. ‘Cause they look at

you like you gonna steal something. And a lot of them do pick up things, and they

have to call the man. But I tell ‘em, they ain’t got nothing in that store that I

couldn’t buy. And if I don’t have the money, I’m going to the head man. You don’t

just walk and get what you want in them people store, ‘cause you know you got

to have money. And I put the man on you, too. ‘Cause that’s what you gonna do.

Some of them do go in there and try to steal or something. But you don’t do that,

if you want something, ask. Go to the man and ask, and a lot of ‘em gonna give it

to you rather than you steal. Then some of ‘em ain’t gonna give you nothing, they

run you out them stores. But a lot of ‘em said, “Well go ahead.” He’ll walk by

there and give you something. Like the children go in the people’s stores and like

to pick up this and pick up that. I tell mine, “Don’t put your hands on nothing. All

that I don’t put my hand on, don’t you put your hand on. Let me do the picking, if

you want something you ask me for it.” And that’s the way I raised mine. And

they know me good and well.

J: Are there a lot of the same businesses around here from when you were, or I

guess when you moved here in the [19]60s?

C: Um, yeah, a lot of ‘em. Now this section, they when I moved up here I had this

one built, there wasn’t but two houses. That was Reverend Johnson on the end,

and the Wilkerson’s next house, there at that yellow house they do come in. Now

them two was already here. And one down there, Mrs. Richardson, what my


brother built. Mine was the third house built here. ‘Cause Reverend Johnson and

Mrs. Johnson, they put that trailer up there on the end. And the Strickland’s them,

they was here when I built this house. But, they two done deceased but the girl’s

staying in the house. So all the rest of these, Reverend Johnson and them, that’s

they houses and they built ‘em. And when these stay down here in this one, right

next to me. So we got a good settlement.

J: Yeah. Did it take you long to save up the money to build the house?

C: Yeah, thirty years. We built it and we paid on it thirty years, but we got it paid. My

husband, he passed about—he passed after we got it about four years. I kept

paying for it after he passed in 1999. So this house paid, it may not look much

but it’s paid for.

J: No, it’s a beautiful house.

C: Yeah. Nobody come here to look for rent, nobody but me. [Laughter] And I’m

doing some work on it. So I tell the children, it look like a rag mop but when I get

through it’ll get straightened up. Yeah.

J: Well, thank you very much for your time.

C: Yeah, thank you.

J: I really appreciate everything that you’ve had to share with me.

C: Yeah, I’m glad you do it. But I know, and I think that was enough. It’s a lot.

J: It was a lot, definitely.

C: But integrating, it was nice.

J: Mmhm.


C: It was nice, nobody fight, nobody called people out their name or nothing like

that. It just was nice. Couldn’t have been no better. The grown people might not

have like it, but them children would love it. They went to playing together and

eating together. So it wasn’t nothing did on this side. The grown people, but they

didn’t do it to Mebane. They ain’t did nothing. They said what they gonna do, but

ain’t nobody do a thing but try to send them children to school. That’s all they

could do. ‘Cause they had done integrating, and you either send them to school

or you carry them somewhere else, see? That’s all that mattered. But they didn’t,

they come there to Mebane. And they had nothing to do but settle, because they

had done integrated, and that was all over the world. So that’s just the way it

goes. Nothing to do but integrate. So that’s how come everybody now is

integrated together. All them, a lot of them don’t like it. And a lot of ‘em get, they

can get along. ‘Cause a lot of ‘em they speak, and a lot of ‘em don’t speak. So

them don’t speak, you speak to them and go right on. But if they got any

Christian in ‘em, they’ll speak. And a lot of people is Christian heart, there’s lots

of them.

J: You think integration was good?

C: Yeah, I do. I know it’s worked for, when they integrated to Mebane. Them

children got along, White and Black. And I think it worked. Some didn’t want it to

work, they didn’t let it work ‘cause they’d pull out their children and send them

somewhere else. And some of them White children were bad. The teacher

couldn’t, Mrs. Brown couldn’t do nothing to them. Some of them, I brought

children right here to my house. And the boys stayed with me, White boys. She


couldn’t do nothing with him, but I brought him here. Everyday he come home

with me, every day. Stayed here with me, just like he were mine. I ain’t have no

trouble out of him. He’d go to school every morning and meet his momma. And

she’d tell me, “Mrs. Certain, I can’t do nothing with him.” I go, “Oh yeah you can.”

He stayed with me a couple of days and I said, “Now see here. When you go

home,” I said, “When your momma tell you to get up out that bed, you get up and

get ready for school. ‘Cause you know she have to come and teach school.” And

that’s what he did. He was nice, growed up. Stayed right here with me. ‘Cause

Johnny, my husband raised him, stayed right out there with him. And Patty,

raised him with her children. ‘Cause they momma be workin’. Mrs. Daubigny, she

wasn’t working but Jim was a lawyer. And Johnny was home, I worked out there

every day. And he went to school every day. That same Johnny Woodshore out

there. But he stayed right with my husband, stayed with my husband that Johnny

when he wasn’t in school. But he went to school every day. So I tell ‘em that

integrating, I think it was good. Made a lot of people get together, Black and

White. Lots of ‘em. ‘Cause some of ‘em they, I don’t know. But they didn’t bother

me, I don’t know why. [Laughter] I never was the kind of person that didn’t fool

with people. I loved people. And it didn’t make me no different what color it was.

But when I was working and going around, I went to churches. White people

churches, we sung, my choir. I carried my choir and we sung. And I enjoyed that,

we had a good time. And we weren’t integrated then, they invited us. So we

invited them to Mt. Nebo. And them people saw, and they were Christian people.

And if they wasn’t, they wouldn’t have come. And I enjoyed ‘em. And we went


back to ‘em and they enjoyed us. I had about thirty young people in the choir.

And we had a good time. Down there to the Baptist church right there in Alachua.

We enjoyed it. So after they integrated, if I wanted to stop down there to the

church. I used to work for Mrs. Betty but she passed. I used to stop down there to

her church. Sanctified people. Stopped down there to her church. Go to church

with her. And them people nice. I sit in there, and I’d have to sing, you know. But

it didn’t matter, I loved to sing. So it didn’t matter with me. I enjoyed it.

J: Were you or your children active in the civil rights movement in the sixties?

C: Yeah, uh-huh. Yeah all my children went to church. All my children, my daughter

she sung. Me and her sung together. ‘Cause I was the president over the young

people. And she was, I was, she was the president. And I was just working with

the young people. And I would know all of them. All of my children worked in the

church.

J: Were any of them active in, was there an active civil rights movement in

Alachua?

C: Civil rights?

J: Civil rights like, agitate for integration or anything in the sixties?

C: No.

J: No, okay.

C: No ‘cause everybody did what they wanted to do. And everybody, looked like

they lived together. And they had us, when I think about it they didn’t have no

fighting here like they do other places with White people. We didn’t have that in

Alachua. If it is, I ain’t hear tell of it. You know, like other places and stuff. But


everybody was nice here. ‘Cause Mr. Hitchcock, he runs a store down there. He

knows several people. And all the Black people want to trade with him.

Everybody traded with Hitchcock. So after he passed, Allen his son had it. And

everybody go to his store. We ain’t have that here. And if it is, I ain’t here tell of it.

Like it do other places. I think everybody was nice here in this little town. We ain’t

had all that running and throwing in your house and stuff like that. I ain’t hear tell

of it. But now, I think some of ‘em go round now like they used to. Long and then

you ain’t hear that kind of stuff. Children they be out in the streets, throwing in

people house and getting into all of that stuff, you couldn’t hear that. But now

you’ll hear anything. So you just have to keep your doors locked, ‘cause they

sure be back. But, don’t bother me. ‘Cause if they come up here, if they don’t

come to my door, I ain’t gonna open my door. You don’t run and open the door

every time somebody knock. You look and see who it is. Sometimes it be the

wrong people. And I ain’t gonna open that door before I look through that window

and I see who you is, then I tell you to come in. But other than that, we don’t

have that. Not here in Alachua. It’s just a little town that anybody can enjoy. They

moved me here ‘cause they don’t have that kind of, you know, the way people

going in the house every now and then. You’d hear it but not like they used to.

Long and then when they integrated, it was just nice. It wasn’t nobody fighting or

nothing like that. So, that’s all you could look for. They sure didn’t fight at Mebane

‘cause I worked, I was working there when they integrated. When the president

got killed, too. Everybody cried.

J: Kennedy?


C: Yeah, Kennedy, mmhm. He got killed. Everybody was crying ‘cause he was a

good president. Back about it then, president leading but he can’t do nothing

without his coworkers. They got to get together. And if you ain’t a Christian

person, you’ll bring your president down. ‘Cause you gonna be mean and

disobedient. And we got a lot of people that disobedient. And some of ‘em, don’t

care how you treat ‘em, they gonna have some negative words to say to you. But

don’t pay that no attention. Go on. But some of them just don’t know how good it

is to be with people, to know people. It’s a blessing to love. You can know

somebody, but a lot of people ain’t gonna wanna tell you nothing. And they ain’t

gonna tell you nothing. If you don’t know nothing, they ain’t gonna tell you

nothing. Just like I tell ‘em, I been ‘round here eighty-six years. All that I don’t

know, I don’t wanna know. [Laughter] I know enough. I just sit up and watch

people. I say you can tell some people by their looks. You can, you just get a

look at that person and say, “Well I’m not gonna bother her ‘cause she don’t look

too pleased.” And it’s just your spirit work with ‘em. And if your spirit don’t work

with ‘em, you better leave that person alone. [Laughter] And that’s the way I am. I

don’t bother nobody. But I love people. You can mistreat me all you want, I’m

gonna treat you right. And that, that’s the honest way to live. Some people think

you be doing ‘em wrong. But I don’t do ‘em. I tell ‘em what I want to know, and

I’m going. They can like it if they want, it don’t make me no different, ‘cause I’m

going on. That’s all you can do. And some of ‘em think you be doing wrong. You

don’t do wrong. You tell ‘em what’s right, and if they don’t wanna deal with you,

leave them alone. ‘Cause some of ‘em ain’t gonna work with you, they sure ain’t


gonna do that. ‘Cause I’m the president and the chief of the women down there

and honey, I never get upset, I love ‘em all. I tell ‘em what I want them to know,

and I’m going on. And I treat them all the same. If I can’t get along with you, I’ll

speak to you and I’ll keep going. I don’t give you nothing to carry back. What I got

to tell you, I’ll tell you to your face and I’m gone. And I’ll still love you, go right on.

Sometimes I have to laugh, but I still, I still love ‘em. Going on about my

business. But a lot of times people make you sin. If you follow up the devil, then

you’ll get in a lot of trouble. Leave them alone. I tell ‘em, when they integrated,

wasn’t no fighting up there. What they gonna stir up? They couldn’t stir up

nothing ‘cause the children were playing together already. So they had nothing to

come up there for, and they didn’t. So everything went good up there, we had no

trouble up there. It just was an integrated school, that’s all. We didn’t have that

kind of trouble. All of ‘em went to school together. They ate, played together. So

that’s all that matters. Couldn’t do no better. So they was good children. Some

made doctors, some made lawyers, some made drunkards, but they still was

integrated when they went to school. So I appreciate every one of ‘em. ‘Cause

they look up to me and they still look up to me, right on. ‘Cause whenever they

see Mrs. Certain, they speak to me just like they always. And I enjoyed them

children.

J: I can see all your awards, it’s very nice.

C: Yeah [laughter] thank you. I was the boss lady, that’s what they called me, the

Boss Lady. That’s my name. And I was glad to work with ‘em. So it has been a


blessing talking to you. I answered what I know, and I hope you’ll get something

out of it.

J: Most definitely.

C: Yeah, ‘cause integrating and working with people, that’s what we here for. To

work with one another. And it look like everybody really gonna miss me. I go to

that hospital. I got, them nurses is just nice to me. They be waiting on me and

calling me, “Mrs. Certain what you need what you need.” And I had my fun off

‘em, I enjoyed it. Every time I go to North Florida they treat me nice, I don’t have

no trouble. ‘Cause I don’t be waiting on, I get up and do. I don’t be waiting on

people to do for me all the time. ‘Cause when I need ‘em I call ‘em. I ain’t gonna

call ‘em. I don’t need them to go with me to the bathroom. So if you were

supposed to get up, mmhm, yeah. The bed take your strength. And so I get up,

walk. And that’s what they want you to do. But you ain’t got to get up and overdo

it. So that’s just the way it is. Well you can tell ‘em. When they integrated,

everybody was nice and calm. The children wasn’t bad. The children worked

together, learned together. They marched together, they sung together. And they

played together, and eat together. Some of ‘em were coaching one another. So

they enjoyed it, Black and White. All of ‘em had boyfriend, girlfriend. And all of

them that didn’t want the Black people, they’d leave ‘em alone. Yes, a lot of ‘em

got married. Worked at, some of ‘em worked out there where I go to dialysis.

Nice people too. One of ‘em married my cousin. So that’s just the way it is. Black

and White they mix up together. So I tell ‘em, all of us can be satisfied. Let

everybody live their own life. And it’d be better. I live mine, you live yours, others


live theirs, and it be better. And if you get what you want, that’s all that matter. Be

satisfied. But a lot of ‘em, they don’t want to be satisfied. But you can be satisfied

and live right on, see? You can’t have everything in the world. ‘Cause some

people is rich. I mean, they ain’t got nothing to worry about. Some of their

children don’t have to work. But the more you give a child, the worser they be.

You just have enough for him, let him work some. They got to work some. But

some of ‘em don’t work, see, ‘cause their parents is rich. And if the parents rich,

they gonna give ‘em. “Well my daddy and momma rich.” Yeah but, what hard

time they had to get that? Well, they had to work for it but ain’t nobody gonna

give them nothing. Some of them stay on the job till they can’t hardly go. But

when I got work, shoot I was living on that county job, I give them people that job

to let somebody else have it. I retired, but a lot of them don’t do that. Well y’all

young people need to get a job. Us old people, some of ‘em still working in

eighties. [Laughter] Some of ‘em nearly ninety years old, but they workin’. ‘Cause

medicine so high, they have to have money to buy they medicine. And like me, I

spend nearly three hundred and something dollars a month getting my medicine.

And the rest of ‘em, all of us, but God make a way. Give you that social security

check. You have to not go to the store and just spend it all in one place. You

have to look out for your medicine and your food. And they think you getting a

bunch of money, but you not. But that’s just the way it is. They give you so much

and they look for, some of ‘em look for you to close world. Just like that White

man he was, talking to me there in the doctor’s office the other day. He said, “I

don’t get but a little bit of money.” And he pay nearly four hundred dollars for his


medicine. And he said, “I have to buy my medicine and stuff.” I said, “You know

what?” I said wasn’t nobody but him. I said, “Ain’t nobody but you.” I said “You

could fix it.” I said, “Maybe if you talk to your doctor you may get a lot of them

medicine what they give you, for free.” So he said, “Well I’ma do that.” And me

and him go to the same doctor. So he talked to Dr. Thomas. They had a lot of

that medicine on their hands, so he gave him a bunch of it. And I told him I said,

“See that? That’ll help you out.” ‘Cause everything is high. And people there, we

sitting there talking. If you was Black or White, and I was Black. So we integrated

there together, and it was nice. His spirit fit right with mine, and mine with him.

He said he belongs to a church there in, down in Newberry. I said well I belongs

to Mt. Nebo out there on the road, I think that’s 241. I think, going to 39. And he

said, “Well I’ma stop by one Sunday” and I said, “Well do that.” But he ain’t never

got by there. So, people integrated and they go to different churches. And it don’t

make no difference, just the word of God, that’s what you wanna hear. You ain’t

going there to look at the people, you going there to hear the word. And if that

pastor can’t preach the word, he don’t need to be in that pulpit. That’s what you

go to hear, the word. And that’s coming from this Bible. So a lot of preachers,

and they gonna preach what God tell ‘em to do. And that’s what we all got to do.

What God tell us to do, that’s what we do. Integrated and everything else. Be

nice to people and people will be nice to you. And we live here together, that’s all

we can do. So I’m glad you come.

J: Thank you so much for having me, and taking your Thursday evening to do this.

C: Yeah. [Laughter] You could put in place. Yeah, that was nice.


J: Yeah, thank you.

C: Mmhm, you’re welcome. You’re welcome.

[End of Interview]

Audit-edited by: Cristina Rodriguez, November 2, 2017

Final edit by: Ryan Morini, February 19, 2019

Samuel Proctor Oral History Program College of Liberal...

Documents

Transcript of Samuel Proctor Oral History Program College of Liberal...