http://library.duke.edu/digitalcollections/behindtheveil
Interview with Alfred James Smith
August 2, 1994 Transcript of an Interview about Life in the Jim Crow South New Iberia (La.) Interviewer: Felix Armfield ID: btvct07058 Interview Number: 797
SUGGESTED CITATION
Interview with Alfred James Smith (btvct07058), interviewed by Felix Armfield, New Iberia (La.), August 2, 1994, Behind the Veil: Documenting African-American Life in the Jim Crow South Digital Collection, John Hope Franklin Research Center, Duke University Libraries. Behind the Veil: Documenting African-American Life in the Jim Crow South An oral history project to record and preserve the living memory of African American life during the age of legal segregation in the American South, from the 1890s to the 1950s. ORIGINAL PROJECT Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University (1993-1995)
COLLECTION LOCATION & RESEARCH ASSISTANCE John Hope Franklin Research Center for African and African American History and Culture
at the David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library
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Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University Behind the Veil: Documenting African American Life in the Jim Crow South
Interview with Alfred James Smith
New Iberia, LA August 2, 1994
Interviewed by Felix Armfield
Unedited Transcript by Frances A. Copeland Transcribing Service
Alfred Smith 1
Armfield: Today is August 2, 1994, and I’m Felix Armfield, the interviewer, and
I’m about to interview Mr. Alfred James Smith at 522 Weeks Street in
New Iberia, Louisiana. Mr. Smith, would you state your full name for
the records, please.
Smith: My name is Alfred James Smith
Armfield: Okay. And, Mr. Smith, how long have you lived here in New Iberia?
Smith: Well, this is my home. I was born and breed here, went to school, to
the high school years, and …
Armfield: You actually finished high school?
Smith: Yes. I finished high school.
Armfield: And what year did you finish high school?
Smith: Oh God. That’s awful. I don’t remember right now.
Armfield: When were you born?
Alfred Smith 2
Smith: January 29, 1907.
Armfield: You were born January 29, 1907?
Smith: And in my elementary years I attended private school here. There’s
two sisters and their mother had a private school called Miss Daisy
Roberson’s Private School.
Armfield: Roberson?
Smith: Yeah.
Armfield: Okay.
Smith: And from there I went to Howell Institute.
Armfield: Howell.
Armfield: Is that called institute?
Alfred Smith 3
Smith: That was a school run by the Baptist associations of this state.
Armfield: Was your family Baptist or Catholic?
Smith: No, they were Baptist.
Armfield: You were Baptist?
Smith: Uh huh. And that school was located where the court house is over
here.
Armfield: Where the old court house building is now?
Smith: Well, we don’t call it the old court house building because that was
built over the last twenty years. It’s right over here on the railroad
track at Madison Avenue. That is the grounds, those grounds and
where that building is there is where Howell Institute was.
Armfield: Now Howell Institute, that was a black educational.
Alfred Smith 4
Smith: That was a black educational school run by the Baptist. The Baptist
Ministers Association had a lot to do with it, you know, uh huh.
Armfield: And what grades were at Howell Institute?
Smith: What grades?
Armfield: Yes sir.
Smith: Let me see now. I think we graduated at ninth grade, I think. If I
remember correctly. Yeah, ninth grade. Go up to the ninth grades.
Yeah.
Armfield: And once you finished at Howell Institute, in the ninth grade, where
did you go on to?
Smith: I went to Straight College in New Orleans.
Armfield: That’s where you finished high school?
Alfred Smith 5
Smith: I finished 12th grade there and two years of college there.
Armfield: You attended Howell Institute up until the ninth grade. Then after
you completed the ninth grade.
Smith: I went to New Orleans to school.
Armfield: Your family sent you to New Orleans.
Smith: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
Armfield: To continue your education?
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Of course to continue your education.
Smith: That’s right. Ninth, tenth, eleven, and twelfth grades.
Alfred Smith 6
Armfield: Tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grades. And that’s what you did at what
was called Straight College?
Smith: Yes.
Armfield: It was like a normal school.
Smith: It was a normal school. They had freshman college, sophomore, and
junior college also, you know, there, but I was in high school
department there.
Armfield: When did you finish up those high school years at Straight?
Smith: I don’t know. My memory is kind of bad. Frankly, I’ve forgotten.
I’m having trouble with my memory now.
Armfield: That’s okay. That’s okay. Now once you did finish your high school
years at Straight College, you went onto two more years of college.
Smith: Right.
Alfred Smith 7
Armfield: At Straight College.
Smith: Right.
Armfield: Okay. What was it like there at Straight College at that time?
Smith: Well, it was, you know it was an AMA school, American Missionary
Association school and it was very nice. I enjoyed it. I had no
problems there at all. The teachers were all good. I lived in the
boarding department there. They had a man’s dormitory and a lady’s
dormitory, you know. That is located on Canal Street, Canal and
Rosherblade.
Armfield: And this was around the 1920s?
Smith: Let me see now.
Armfield: Somewhere in the 1920s.
Alfred Smith 8
Smith: Let me see. Let me see. Around ’20, ’21, ’22. Somewhere along in
that area there, you know, as far as I can remember.
Armfield: Now how did you manage to get to New Orleans? Your family
afforded you financially.
Smith: Uh huh.
Armfield: Now what did your parents do here in New Iberia.
Smith: Well, my father and mother lived in Orange, Texas, but I spent most
of my time here in New Iberia with my grandmother. My
grandmother partly raised me. I’d go back and forwards, but most of
my schooling was done in Louisiana here. I think I went to school
two years in Orange, Texas. It was in the 5th or 6th grade if I can
remember correctly.
Armfield: But for the most part it was here.
Smith: But it was here in Louisiana. Right here in New Iberia.
Alfred Smith 9
Armfield: With your grandmother.
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Now what did your grandmother do for a living.
Smith: She was just a housewife. She didn’t work out nowhere. Sometimes
she had certain white families here, a couple of doctor’s families she
would do laundry at home for, you know. They liked for her to do
their white shirts and she could turn out – they was wearing those stiff
collars at the time. I don’t think you know anything about that. But
she could turn them out same as a China man. So she had one or two
doctors here that she used to do work at home for them. Yeah, yeah.
Just one or two. Not no large amount, just one or two doctors. But
she never worked out no where.
Armfield: Were there other children in the home with your grandmother and
you?
Alfred Smith 10
Smith: No, I only had one brother and I’m about eight years older than him
and he always stayed in Orange, Texas, with my mother. He would
come down, but I spent most of my time here in New Iberia with my
grandmother cause I had a lot of friends in the neighborhood and
things like I, like I never did like Texas. I never did like Orange,
Texas. I went to school there though about two years, but I didn’t
care for it.
Armfield: You were pretty much sold on being with your grandmother.
Smith: That’s right. We had a large place. The house is still there on Field
Street. 427 Field Street.
Armfield: At 427 Field Street.
Smith: That’s right. And my grandmother, we had a lot of fruit trees on the
place there and my grandmother canned a lot of stuff, you know, and
we lived good. And I had a lot of friends. Also, my play mates and
friends were here in New Iberia round this area. I never did like
Orange, Texas much. And my reason for not liking it, when I first
Alfred Smith 11
went to Orange, my father went to Orange and started working there
and me and my mother went to Orange. I remember I was there
about, oh, less than a year and it was a bad place for black people that
Orange, Texas.
Armfield: What made it bad for black people?
Smith: Well, the first thing that greeted me, that I remember that really stuck
in my mind was a black man hung by his neck on one of the streets in
Orange. They was very hard on black people there. And there were
times the train’d go through there and the Jim Crow car they’d throw
bricks, knock the glasses out, you know. Shoot in the cars. Some of
the cars that a way, you know . It was a real rough place for blacks at
that time.
Armfield: Now was your grandmother a real church woman, religious?
Smith: Well she wasn’t over zealous at that, you know. She’d go to church
and things of that kind, but she wasn’t a fanatic with that, but she was,
she belonged to the Eastern Star Lodge.
Alfred Smith 12
Armfield: What do you mean by the Eastern Star Lodge?
Smith: Well, that’s a women’s branch of the Masonic. My grandfather was a
Mason and my daddy was a Mason. My grandmother was Eastern
Star. That’s a women branch of the Masonic Lodge. She was
treasurer of that for years.
Armfield: What kind of things are your earliest memories of your community
and neighborhood here in New Iberia in those early years.
Smith: Well, the community was good and back at that time it was what you
call not integrated because they had white families living in the block
with us and behind us, the street behind us, and things of that kind.
They all got along very well together. Better than they do now, in my
opinion, because I had infantile paralysis when I was five years old.
And we had white neighbors in the next block from us and on the side
street from us. Incidentally, I was born and grew up at 427 Field
Street. That house is still standing, my grandmother’s place at 427
Field Street. And when you had sickness in the family anything of the
Alfred Smith 13
kind the white people came in and then helped, you know. They were
very neighborly. They got along better then I think in a way, in a
neighborly fashion than what they do now with the exception of
probably certain cases.
Armfield: So in essence your childhood neighborhood was rather integrated.
Smith: Oh yeah. It was mixed. It was mixed. The blacks were in the
majority, but we had a few families within a half a block of us, you
know, and so on that away and they all got along together. If one
family had sickness or something of the kind, cause hospitals, I don’t
know if they had, during that time there was no hospital here in New
Iberia. You had to go to New Orleans.
Armfield: All the way to New Orleans?
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Not even in Lafayette?
Alfred Smith 14
Smith: Not to my knowledge. I don’t remember nobody. That I don’t know.
But anybody who had to be hospitalized back at that time they went to
New Orleans, you know.
Armfield: Now how is it that you got to be so fortunate to live with your grand-
parents?
Smith: I always would rather be with my grandparents than with my father
and mother for the simple reason.
Armfield: Were you born here in New Iberia?
Smith: I was born here in New Iberia. You see.
Armfield: And your parents left?
Smith: Yeah. Later on my daddy moved to Orange, Texas, and I didn’t like
Texas at all. And I always could, because most of my playmates and
friends and things were here in New Iberia, you know. And, I was
Alfred Smith 15
very fond of my grandfather and my grandmother. And my
grandfather worked in the woods, in the swamp most of the time.
Armfield: Now what did he do out there.
Smith: Well, he trapped. He caught, and trees. You take here on Main Street
as you go on Main Street, going east on Main Street, all those large
oak trees and things you see on those old houses there - we used to
have storms here sort of regular in September. Well, most of those
white people there would wait for Uncle Jimmy. That’s what they
called my grandfather. He would always cut those trees, top them.
Nobody could touch those trees and top them but him because the
limbs are all over those old houses, mansions and things, downtown.
They wouldn’t trust nobody to do that but him. And he’d come in
town. We used to have storms here regularly in September and
around August 15th he would be busy. They’d have him busy
trimming, cutting limbs off of trees or cutting down trees that would
threaten their residences.
Armfield: Preparing for the storm.
Alfred Smith 16
Smith: That’s right. He was noted for that. All those old mansion you see
down Main Street going east.
Armfield: And as a youngster would you tag along?
Smith: Oh, a lot of times. Yeah. He’d be working down there and I’d do
down there to take his dinner or his lunch in a bucket, you know. And
I remember one incident. The house was high off the ground, you
know, and this September, because we used to have storms here the
later part of September and everybody wanted their trees trimmed and
any limbs that was threatening the house they wanted them cut off and
thing like that, you know. I went to take my grandfather’s dinner to
him. It was a high house off the ground and it started drizzling rain,
getting cool and the white lady came out and said, Jimmy - my
grandfather was named James Smith and they called him Jimmy -
Jimmy, you and that boy get out of that rain. It’s drizzling rain out
there and the weather’s turning cool. You’ll catch your death of cold
there. Get under, it was a high house, get under the house with Rover.
Alfred Smith 17
He ain’t going to bother you. Not come in the house or get on the
porch, but go under the house with Rover.
Armfield: Now who was Rover?
Smith: That’s the dog.
Armfield: Isn’t that something.
Smith: Go under the house with Rover. It was a high house. It was off the
ground, you know. We sit down under there until the showers
stopped, you know.
Armfield: But you said you were not even asked to come and sit on the porch or
as you were saying you weren’t asked to come inside.
Smith: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. In most cases a lot of times though
they would, you’d go on the porch or go in the kitchen, you know,
cause they had colored servants, cooks would stay in the kitchen.
Well, in the kitchen, they’d fix a big plate of food for you, you know,
Alfred Smith 18
but this particular incident stuck in my mind. Jimmy, you and that
boy get out of that rain. You going to catch your death of cold. Get
under the house with Rover. This house was high off the ground.
Rover was a big Airedale dog.
Armfield: Would the dog bother you?
Smith: No. Uh uh. The dog didn’t bother you.
Armfield: So I assume you ran into those kinds of situations?
Smith: Yeah, but on a whole the blacks and the whites got along better with
less friction than they do now, cause right here, this house here. Miss
Simon and her family lived here. She grew up here in this house and
there’s white people across the street was there and white people lived
down the street, you know. And one thing about ‘em, they didn’t
utilize hospitals like they do now. If there was sickness or something
in the house, the whites would come in and help with the sick patients.
Sit up with them all night. In fact there was more cooperation then I
think and better comradeship than what it is now.
Alfred Smith 19
Armfield: So basically the community took on the health care concerns.
Smith: Oh yeah. Oh yeah. They helped each other, you know. If one had
sickness, they all pitched in and helped - white and black.
Armfield: When you finally do leave the area to go on to New Orleans and
you’re fairly young when you go to New Orleans I would think.
You’re about 15, 16.
Smith: Yes, along in that. Along in that bracket. I disremember now.
Armfield: What are your initial impressions of New Orleans when you get there,
at that young age.
Smith: At that young age? Well, that was my first time a going there and I
was real excited about it, you know, cause New Orleans was a real
exciting place, had the carnival, you know, parades and all that kind
of stuff, you know. The big city street cars and that situation. Here in
New Iberia they had a trolley car that ran from New Iberia to
Alfred Smith 20
Jeanerette. Jeanerette is about 12 miles east from here. And I was
talking down to the court house with a couple of lawyers, young
lawyers, and I was telling them about the trolley car. The trolley car
made about six trips a day to Jeanette which is about 12 miles from
here. And usually three or four times a week the trolley car would
wreck, run off the track or separate the cars. One of them lawyers
said, you know, you ought to have heard my grandfather say the same
thing. But it did. That trolley line didn’t survive very long, cause I
went to Texas and I come back then they had took it up. It used to run
on Main Street from New Iberia to Jeanerette which is just about 12
miles.
Armfield: Now, again, when you were in New Orleans after you had been in
high school when you left did you come back to New Iberia?
Smith: No. No. After I finished high school there I stayed on there and did
my freshman year and sophomore year at college, see.
Armfield: Okay. And what are you studying? What are you studying in those
years of college?
Alfred Smith 21
Smith: Well, my main interest was music, cause I started taking music
lessons when I was about, oh, about nine years old.
Armfield: So you started taking music lessons relatively young.
Smith: Yeah, nine or ten years old, cause I had a very good music teacher
here. Mr. Ed Readum. He’s a violinist. This was about, that is the
first instrument I tackled. I studied the violin under him and when I
went to school in New Orleans I studied under Professor Nicholson.
He had a daughter, Camille Nicholson, that taught at Overland
Conservatory. I studied the violin under him quite awhile.
Armfield: And that was Professor Nicholson?
Smith: Yeah.
Armfield: Who was your teacher here?
Smith: Ed Readum.
Alfred Smith 22
Armfield: Ed Readum.
Smith: That was my first music teacher, the violin. I studied the violin. They
had a very good orchestra here. The Banner Orchestra was the name
of it.
Armfield: And who was your teacher again when you got to New Orleans before
I forget.
Smith: Professor Nicholson. He had a daughter by the name of Camille
Nicholson who taught at the Overland Conservatory.
Armfield: Over at the Overland Conservatory, okay. Now what you were saying
about your first lessons here.
Smith: Was the violin. Studied under Ed Readum who was my instructor. At
that time New Iberia had an excellent orchestra about nine or ten
pieces. They kept busy. They played mostly to whites, all the big
Alfred Smith 23
white society dances in the country they play. Ed Readum was the
leader of that band. That was my first music teacher.
Armfield: Now was this a black man?
Smith: Yeah. Uh huh.
Armfield: What was it that gave you this great love of music?
Smith: I don’t know. They tell me even as a child four or five years old if I
heard any music my foot went to tapping. And as I grew up, got
older, well I changed from the violin to the saxophone. I played tenor
saxophone. Then I went into the dance orchestra musician. Well, the
saxophones came in and things of that then they kind of knocked the
violins out, you know. I do special numbers sometimes on the violin,
you know. In the waltz category, you know. But I played tenor
saxophone. My first, oh, I’d say, my first professional job, I met a
young man. Well, I knew of this man long before I left here to go to
college. He was a band, the name of it was Louisiana Black Devil
Band. Black Devil Band. They come from Plaquemines, Louisiana,
Alfred Smith 24
and they were one of the outstanding dance bands in this area. And,
whenever they would come to town, if I was in town here I would go
to hear them play. And when I got in New Orleans in Straight
College one of the young men students there he was from
Plaquemines, where this band, you know, was head quartered.
Plaquemines, Louisiana. And, I got to talking with him about the
band and he said he knew all the fellows in the band because he was
from that little town, you know. So, he said, yeah. He knew all the
fellows in the band. Joe Walker was the manager of the band and
Theo Kern a friend of his daddy’s. So that summer just before school
closed he contacted the fellows in Plaquemines, Black Devil fellows
in Plaquemines tell them about me and that I would be interested in
working with them during the summer if they had openings. So they
added another saxophone which made a full section with me and after
school closed I toured with them that summer. I worked all the
summer with them and that was my first professional, you know, job.
Armfield: Okay. ( )
Smith: Oh yeah.
Alfred Smith 25
Armfield: And where did you tour and what were your ( ).
Smith: Mostly around in the Louisiana area, you know, and this Louisiana
area with the white people’s a great dance place. That was Saturday
night dances, you know, and Sunday dances and things of that kind.
These Cajuns, you know. And the Black Devil Band had a good
reputation. They played a lot of white dances, mostly white dances,
you know. So during the summer while I was on vacation I had an
opportunity to work with them. The manager, business manager of
that outfit’s name was Joe Walker. And I got along fine with them.
They wanted me to stay on with them. I told them no. I had to go
back to school in September, you know.
Armfield: Why were they called the Louisiana Black Devils?
Smith: That is the name they give them. I don’t know. God knows. I don’t
know.
Armfield: But you played with the Louisiana Black Devil Band?
Alfred Smith 26
Smith: Yeah.
Armfield: As you were touring throughout Louisiana, what happened when you
were on the road. Could you stay anywhere you wanted to?
Smith: No. That’s a good question. Back in those times you couldn’t go in
no hotel. There was no hotel or nothing for you to get a room in, of
the kind. Now I’ll give you an example.
Armfield: Now I assume we’re talking about still the 1920s here.
Smith: Oh yeah. In the ‘20s. Up until.
Armfield: But during the time that you were traveling with them.
Smith: During the time I was traveling you couldn’t even get no
accommodations around here.
Armfield: ( ) you did that tour with them. That was in the 1920s wasn’t it?
Alfred Smith 27
Smith: Yeah. Yeah. You take all that. Early ‘20s up until say the early ‘30s,
accommodations was very bad for blacks anywhere. The hotels
between here and New Orleans you couldn’t get no room or nothing
there. You had to stay at somebody’s private house, had an extra
room, they’d take you in or some that away. That was all the way
around. I left for, when I finally left New Orleans I went to Jackson,
Tennessee, and I worked with Johnny Brown’s band out of Jackson,
Tennessee. Now we toured all through Tennessee, the northern edge
of Mississippi, Cairo, Illinois and around in that area there and there
wasn’t no accommodations nowhere there for colored. Somebody had
a large rooming house, you understand. They was glad to take you in
to make that extra money, you know, or something of the kind, but
there was no hotel accommodations for blacks at all. At some of
those, we’ve played dances, had white dances at hotels and things of
that kind and we couldn’t go up to the dance floor on the elevator pass
the elevator. We had to go around through the alley and go on the
freight elevator to bring the slop and stuff. That’s right. Things are
all together different now in the world. For instance, I went into, let’s
see, it was Birmingham? I think it was Birmingham. I was with
Alfred Smith 28
Johnny Brown’s band out of Jackson, Tennessee. We was playing a
white dance there and a black dance there. The school teachers had a
club and we was playing a dance for them and we was playing a white
dance there. So as we were getting, driving into town I saw a big
laundry, you know, and we’d been out about ten days on the road and
I had about, I had four white shirts I wanted laundered. We was going
to be there two days. I’d put them in special and I’d be able to get
them the next day, you know. So after we got to the rooming house
and thing of the card, I would walk back about five blocks where I
passed this laundry. So I opened the door and walked on in, had these
shirts wrapped up, and the man in the laundry he saw me come in the
door and he was standing looking out the window. I stood there a
good five minutes. He come there. What you want? I said I have.
Armfield: Now this was happening where?
Smith: This was in Birmingham, Alabama.
Armfield: Okay.
Alfred Smith 29
Smith: So I say I have, I think I had four white shirts, I said I’d like to put
these white shirts in special for I can get them tomorrow evening
some time before you close. He looked at me. He said you must be
with that nigger band that’s playing at such and such hotel tonight.
We was playing the white dance first. Then the next night we was
playing the colored dance. I said, yeah, that’s right. Johnny Brown’s
band out of Jackson, Tennessee. He said, well, look. We don’t do
nigger laundry here and he said, come, I’ll show you where to go. He
walked me to the door. He said see, go down there next block and
turn right. There’s a chink laundry in the middle of the block. That’s
where the niggers carry their clothes.
Armfield: Are you kidding?
Smith: It was tough back in that time.
Armfield: How did you respond to him?
Smith: Well, there was nothing for me to do. He wasn’t going to take my
shirts and I had four or five white shirts I wanted laundered. We was
Alfred Smith 30
going to be there two days you see and I’d put them in special. So I
went to find the China man. We don’t do them. He looked at me and
said, that’s right. You with one of the bands that’s playing. The band
that’s playing at such and such hotel tonight. He said, well, look. We
don’t take nigger clothes here. Come here I’ll show you. Walked to
the door. See, go down there and make a right turn to that next corner
and in the middle of the next block there’s a chink laundry that
niggers can take clothes there. Lord, I’m telling you. Things are good
now to what they used to be for blacks, you know. There was no
accommodations for you at all. Colored people had rooming houses
and things of the kind. Some of them was nice and some of them
were rougher. Some of them was hardly fit for a dog to go in, but
what you going to do.
Armfield: You were telling me about some particular individuals on Saturday at
the barber’s when we initially met, telling me about Bunk Johnson.
Smith: Yeah, Bunk Johnson. That’s a big trumpet player
Armfield: And what was the other gentleman’s name? Gus Fartney.
Alfred Smith 31
Smith: Gus Fartney and Gus Fartney was manager of the band here in New
Iberia, the Banner Orchestra here, was the name of the orchestra here.
Very good band. The violin player was my first music teacher.
Armfield: Did you ever play with Bunk Johnson and Gus Fartney.
Smith: No. No. I never did play with their orchestra or the band here. I was
always out of town going, you know, cause later I was in
Donaldsonville awhile when school closed.
Armfield: You went where?
Smith: Donaldsonville. That’s where the Black Devil Band was head
quarters was at the time.
Armfield: And that’s here in Louisiana?
Smith: In Louisiana. Yeah. Yeah. That’s about 70 miles from here.
Alfred Smith 32
Armfield: Okay.
Smith: When I left school, I joined Victor’s band out of Baton Rouge. That
was a large traveling orchestra, 12 piece band, large band.
Armfield: And you were still playing the saxophone?
Smith: Oh yeah. Yeah. And by that band, Victor’s band, we played a lot of
LSUs. Students for LSU ( ). We went on football trips with them.
Armfield: That’s were you were telling me you encountered Huey P. Long?
Smith: Yeah. Yeah. That was early ‘30s. Yeah. Yeah, old Huey.
Armfield: Now what are some of your memories of the kind of encounters with
Huey P. Long?
Smith: With Huey P. Long?
Armfield:. Did you and he have a decent relationship?
Alfred Smith 33
Smith: Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. He talked to me. I tell you what he used
to do. We used to play, whenever we played at Baton Rouge, white
dances at Baton Rouge, if he was in town before he got to going back
and forward to Washington and things of the card, he would always
be there cause a lot of the LSU students was there. A lot of times
their clubs we played for, you know, and things of the card, and he
knew all, cause we played quite a few, most of their dances and all.
He knew all of us by name, first names. He was all right. He was
kind of rough at the edges, you know. He was no college graduate or
deck of cards. He do okay. He did a lot for Louisiana. All these
good roads, highways and bridges, and pick of the card. He’s
responsible for that. Cause a hog would get bogged on these
highways and things. I’m telling you. I’ll give you an example of
what I’m talking about. In north Louisiana there’s the Red River
going up to Bunkie and around that area. They didn’t have no
bridges. They’d have to cross on a ferry and some old white guy he
would have a little barge that would hold about two cars, you
understand, and a four or five cylinder boat that would pull that barge
across the river, hook on to side and guide it across the river, you
Alfred Smith 34
know. And sometimes he may charge you $5 a car to cross. If he’s in
a good humor, he may charge you $3 a car. Whatever he wanted you
had to pay to cross. That was particularly at that Red River up in
north Louisiana. And all these nice bridges and highways and things
now you see was started by Huey Long. Negroes couldn’t register to
vote or nothing until he made it possible.
Armfield: Now what did he do to make that possible?
Smith: Well, he was governor. After he got to be governor of Louisiana his
word was law. They used to call him the king fish. You might have
heard of that.
Armfield: Huey “King Fish” Long.
Smith: That’s right. That’s right. I’m telling you. He really pulled Louisiana
out of the hole. For years I heard them talk about putting a bridge
across the Mississippi River in New Orleans and that bridge wasn’t
built until Huey Long got to be governor and think of the time he said
I’m going to build, everybody come out of the corner. It’s too strong.
Alfred Smith 35
The water too. He said, I just got damn ( ) fixed. The current is too
strong. No bridge can be put across the Mississippi River here in New
Orleans. The current is too strong and the water is too deep and it’s
either too wet. God damn it, I’m going to put a bridge across there if I
have to send to England and get some engineers. And he did too. If
I’m not mistaken now, I think some engineers from France he got
come here and put that bridge, the foundation of that bridge and thing
down. And he cussed, he cussed out Tulane College, University.
Ya’ll call yourself and you ain’t got no engineers turned out. Talking
about the water too wet or either the current is too strong. God damn
it. I’m going to put a bridge here. So he got that bridge put there.
He’s the one, that bridge was going into New Orleans was his project.
Armfield: Well, isn’t that the bridge’s name? Huey P. Long Bridge there.
Smith: I think it is. I think it is. I done forgot. Yeah, he’s the one put that
bridge there, you know.
Armfield: Now you were telling me a couple of stories on Saturday as we sat
and sort of chit chatted at the barber shop and unfortunately we didn’t
Alfred Smith 36
have the tape recorder on, but I hope you can recall telling me about
what would happen when you all would go and try to register to vote
or even attempted to vote.
Smith: Oh, yeah, yeah. That’s right. Right at the registration office.
Armfield: What would happen? What was that primarily like?
Smith: They’d take the card. They wouldn’t refuse you the card to fill out,
you know.
Armfield: They would not refuse the card?
Smith: No, no, no. They’d give it to you, but all they ask for there was your
name, your address, you age, you know, what year you was born in,
your birthday and they’d take the card and look. And I stood there
one day, I was there to try to register too, Dr. Segood.
Armfield: Now this was in New Orleans.
Alfred Smith 37
Smith: Yeah, that was in New Orleans. He was in line. Then Dr. Taylor
behind, and then me behind Dr. Taylor. You can’t tell me Dr. Segood
and Dr. Taylor they got to fill out that registration card, all that’s on
there.
Armfield: In the early ‘30s?
Smith: Oh yeah, that was during the ‘30s. You know. All they asked you
was your name and address and just ordinary things which the average
person who could read and write, would know, you know. A guy’d
take it, look at it, nope. Error on here. Tear it up and they wouldn’t
give you another card ( ). Come back again. Do all that kind of stuff
to intimidate you. And, so about, oh, about three or four weeks after
that I was back in Baton Rouge and we were playing a white dance
there and Huey was there. He came there and come up on the band
stand. He knew all of us by first name.
Armfield: Who was this?
Alfred Smith 38
Smith: Huey Long. He came up on the bandstand, talked with us pick of the
card and I was telling him about that. He said, you mean to tell me,
said well, hell, it ain’t nothing. You mean to tell me Dr. Taylor or Dr.
Segood can’t fill out one of them cards. Said, well, they filled it out.
The man tore it up. I was right there. He said, all right. I’m going to
see about that. We’ll put a stop to that.
Armfield: You got registered after that?
Smith: Oh yeah, yeah. Got registered. But I’ll tell you what he did. He put,
he called out a company of the state militia and put them in the
registration office. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but about a
week or so after that I went back there one day and there was one
sitting in the window with a rifle across his shoulder, two standing in
the door you had to go through and one standing at the counter right at
the registration office. I said, well, well, well. He made it possible
for Negroes to register and vote. He made it possible. He did a lot of
good for the city, the state rather, in my opinion.
Alfred Smith 39
Armfield: What was the other situation that you mentioned to me where he
wrote a letter to someone and you were able to get that job.
Smith: Oh, oh, oh, oh yeah, yeah. Well, when I left Baton Rouge, left
Victor’s band because I was half sick and I was having a lot of
problems and he told me, I told him, I said well, governor, he was
talking about one of the big football games that he wanted the band to
go to Vanderbilt. I said, well, I ain’t going to be with you all on that
trip. I say I’m leaving. He say what the matter, Vic ain’t treating you
right? I said no, no, it ain’t Vic, and I explained to him my condition,
pick of the cards. So he said, well, you got a family haven’t you. I
said I got a wife and one child. Said well, you’re going to need
something to do, a job. Said when you planning to go. I said, oh, not
before, I got two more weeks here with Vic. He said, well, you
remind me of it before you go. I’m going to give you a letter to give
Mr. Gindrick, the personnel director of Charity Hospital. He’ll give
you something to do, because you got to have something to do,
income of some kind, you know.
Armfield: At the Charity Hospital?
Alfred Smith 40
Smith: That’s right. Charity Hospital. So he did. I got a job there - through
him. Every time he would come to New Orleans, pass through New
Orleans he’d stop there. That was the old Charity Hospital. They
hadn’t built this hospital here, you know. When ever he’d come
through there, he’d always come there, you know, and go around the
place there and pick of the card, nursing office and ask for me and
them sisters say, Alfred, go change that uniform. Put on a clean
uniform. I said, Sister, I just got this uniform yesterday. Don’t argue
with me, man. Them Catholic sisters. They learned you how to work
though. They worked their selves and they will learn you how to
work. They know what it’s all about. Any hospital that you go to
those Catholic sisters’ run you got good attention there. They really
know their business.
Armfield: Tell me about the scenario that you told me about. How you walked
in the office and the woman, says, well, we ain’t got no work.
Smith: I walked in there, in the office. We not hiring nobody today, boy.
Well, Huey Long just had turned down, you know, his strategy was
Alfred Smith 41
this, to get them, he made it possible for Negroes to register and vote.
But to make everybody vote the way he wanted them to pick of the
card, especially them white people. They let out a gang of them.
They fired a gang of them.
Armfield: At Charity?
Smith: That’s right and everybody was scared of losing their job. Those were
jobs that he controlled, the state jobs too, you see. Then he took them
back with the understanding that they’d vote for him, you know.
That’s why he had such a following. If he hadn’t been assassinated,
he had a damn good chance of becoming president of the United
States, in my opinion. I really believe that.
Armfield: Okay. Now what happened when you took the letter to the people at
Charity.
Smith: I walked into the office, personnel office. Old white gal sitting there
at the desk in the outer office, you know. So I walk in. Boy, we not
hiring nobody. I said, lady, I didn’t come here to get burned. I got a
Alfred Smith 42
letter here. Give that to Mr. Gindrick. This is from Governor Long.
She’d look at the letter with the seal stamp on it caught her eyes.
She’d run in the back office, give it to this little Cajun back there, you
know and them was political jobs, you know. Give it to him. So after
awhile he come to the door. You Alfred? I said, yes sir. Come in
Alfred. Come in. Come in. I didn’t know what the hell Long had on
that letter. He took the letter and he read it. He said Governor Long
thinks very well of you. I said yes sir, I know. So he told his
secretary, said take this boy over to Sister Colette and tell her to give
him a job. Give him something to do. So the girl took, follow me.
She, her expression, everything had changed then, you know. Walked
in there, Sister Colette, Mr. Gindricks, told me to bring this boy over
here. I’ve had enough of them lazy boys here now. I don’t need
nobody. The girl said, well, look, Mr. Gindricks said this boy was
sent here by Governor Long. Governor Long said to put him on the
payroll. Mr. Gindricks said put him on the payroll if he just got to
hold your beads, your prayer beads, and walk around with them. So
that was that. Lord, have mercy.
Alfred Smith 43
SIDE B
Armfield: Did you serve in the war?
Smith: No. No. Cause I had a disability, you know. I had polio when I was
five years old. I am trying to think how many years I stayed at
Charity Hospital. Did I tell you?
Armfield: No, you didn’t. Did you retire from there?
Smith: No, I didn’t retire. I just left, decided to leave New Orleans. I went to
New York.
Armfield: Went to New York. And when did you leave New Orleans to go to
New York?
Smith: Wait a minute. I think that was ’44, about ’44. My memory ain’t too
good these days. I went to New York and with my hospital
experience and thank God, I got a job right away at Montiferal
Alfred Smith 44
Medical Center and I stayed there about seven years I think, if I
remember correctly. That’s where I got a chance to go into the
nursing field.
Armfield: Into the nursing field?
Smith: Yeah, I got a New City licensed practical nurse.
Armfield: Okay. So you actually did nursing - in New York.
Smith: In New York, yeah.
Armfield: Now how many years did you remain in New York, Mr. Smith.
Smith: Oh, Lord. Let me see. Somewhere around, let me see now. I stayed
in New York about seven or eight years. Or eight or nine years. One,
because I came here when I retired. I came on down here. I was there
a good eight or nine years. My memory is kind of fuzzy now, you
know.
Alfred Smith 45
Armfield: At some point I think you said to me that you spent some time in
Chicago as well.
Smith: Oh yeah. That was in the earlier years. That was back in the ‘30s.
That was back in the ‘30s.
Armfield: Now what were you doing back in Chicago. Were you playing music
at that time?
Smith: As a side line. I had went to Chicago and I went to school there, to a
business school there. I used to do Gregg shorthand and I won a
couple of metals in typewriting, the Underwood Company and the
Royal Company, pick of the cards, you know. My mother always
wanted me to prepare myself to do office work. Back in that time
Negroes ain’t had no business. The Negro insurance company was a
family set up, you understand. You had as much chance getting a job
in there as swimming the Mississippi River backwards, you
understand? But to please them I just went along and took it, you see,
but if it hadn’t been for my musical ability that’s where I got my
income from because there was a time I could do Gregg shorthand at,
Alfred Smith 46
I’d say at, oh, about 80 words a minutes. But, getting a job, if you’re
in that area there white people wasn’t hiring Negroes into their
business in that area and the Negro business, the Negro insurance
company thing was a family affair. You understand? So I had to fall
back on my music for a livelihood. I never did, you know. I knew it
was a lost cause, but in order to just not contrary my mother and them,
you know, I just went along the deal, you know. Cause the only
Negroes was working in offices then was probably relatives of these
big old insurance concerns, you know, and that was a family set up.
You didn’t have much of a chance getting in there, you know.
Armfield: When you did return to New Iberia, what kind of New Iberia did you
return to as opposed to the New Iberia that you had left many years
earlier?
Smith: Oh well. There was quite a bit of improvement. Not a whole lot,
because this was always a close community with the white and the
blacks, you understand. Cause you take this street here. This family
here, Miss Simon here, her family always lived in this house here, you
understand. And the next door there that house there was for the Cape
Alfred Smith 47
family. That was a colored family, but across the street where this
office building is there was white families there. There’s a white
family right there that was very good friends to Miss Simon here and
if they could help in any way they did. We never had, I don’t
remember any friction between the white and the blacks when I was a
kid growing up here.
Armfield: Do you think that perhaps then because for the most part black people
knew their place?
Smith: That was partly that too, but these Cajuns they were always, they all
got along together with the blacks. For instance hospitals weren’t
popular then at that time. Most people died at home and they stayed
sick at home, pick of the cards, and if a black family had somebody
very sick at the home the white neighbors would come in and help
with him or sit up at night with and pick of the cards, you know.
Because I had polio when I was five years old and my grandmother
had white friends in the neighborhood who would come there and
help with me, and sit up with me, and pick of the cards, you know.
Alfred Smith 48
Cause at that time the only time you went into a hospital you went in
there to die. People thought that, you know.
Armfield: Did you have any black doctors in town in those earlier days?
Smith: Well, back at that time we had one black doctor that I know. Dr.
Welch. T. L. Welch. A Dr. Welch was the first black doctor I know
of. Then there’s a Dr. Easter, another black doctor. Dr. Easter’s the
one vaccinated me for smallpox. They had a smallpox epidemic here.
Yeah, they had two black doctors to my remembrance. Dr. Easter and
Dr. Welch.
Armfield: Okay. Dr. Easter. Dr. Welch.
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Now was either of them a female or they both were?
Smith: They both were male doctors. It was two black male doctors.
Alfred Smith 49
Armfield: And how long did they stay here in Iberia?
Smith: Oh, I left them here when I went to New Orleans to school. And,
shortly, my first year in school in New Orleans my grandfather died. I
came back here for his funeral and my grandmother stayed here, oh,
she probably stayed here about eight or nine months afterwards. And
she left and went to Orange, Texas to live with my mother.
Armfield: Now these were your mother’s parents that you were living with?
Smith: That’s right. That’s right. That’s right.
Armfield: And that’s when you gave up the family home here in the area.
Smith: Yes. My grandmother she moved on to Orange, Texas with my
mother and she rented the place out. The house is still standing. 427
Field Street. Big white house. It’s still standing. My grandmother
rented it out for a couple of years.
Armfield: Does that mean you still own the property?
Alfred Smith 50
Smith: No. No. A couple of years and the people’s tear up the property so
she finally sold it. She sold it before she died. And that house is still
standing there. 427 Field Street. It’s near the corner of Coread. This
side of Bankers. Now the house next to it that house wasn’t there then
cause all that property that land there went with my grandmother’s
house, went with the 427 Field Street house. My grandmother, after
she moved to Texas with my mother.
Armfield: And this was after you left here to go to New Orleans?
Smith: Oh yeah, oh yeah. All that happened after, let’s see. My grandfather
died. I was still in school in New Orleans. I think I was in my second
year there, cause they sent for me to come home and the next day after
I got here he died. Cause I always stayed with my grandmother and
my grandfather both. So I stayed with my mother in Orange, I didn’t
like Orange, Texas. All my friends were here and I didn’t like
Orange, Texas. Orange was a hell of a place there. You could go out
there in the water and see a Negro hanging by his neck in Orange.
That was a lynch mob place, that Orange, Texas. That’s the town, as
Alfred Smith 51
soon as you leave Lake Charles, Louisiana, about 40 miles you get
over into Texas. The first town in the state of Texas, Orange, Texas.
I never did like that. I went to school one or two years there and I
came back here, because I never did like Orange, Texas. Never did
like Orange, Texas.
Armfield: Now do you recall anyone in particular that you knew of that was
lynched while you were growing up here in New Iberia?
Smith: No. We never had that here in New Iberia. I tell you.
Armfield: In the surrounding areas?
Smith: Well, if I’m not mistaken I heard my grandmother, my grandmother
talking about they lynched a colored man in St. Martinville. That’s
about 15 miles from here. But we never had that here. We always
had pretty fair peace before. I’ll give you an example. There was a
white man found dead on the railroad track, the railroad coming from
the salt mine, from Edward’s Island, New Iberia and a bunch of these
rabble rousing Cajuns here they got in the street looking for
Alfred Smith 52
somebody. They say there was a nigger killed a white man. That was
the expression. And, George Henderson, a white man by the name of
George Henderson was the sheriff here. He and my grandfather were
good friends. They used to hunt together when my grandpa would be
in town or my grandpa come into town he’d bring game, you know, to
Sheriff Henderson, thing of the card. And I remember that it was the
winter time. We were all sitting around there in one of the rooms.
Each room had a fireplace with a grate in it. We weren’t cold. And I
believe my grandmother was popping some pop corn or something
because when somebody knocked at the door it was Sheriff
Henderson. At the time, he and my grandfather were great friends and
they had arrested a colored fellow on suspicion of murder. A white
man was found murdered on the salt mine track out here, come from
the salt mine.
Armfield: Not the railroad track.
Smith: Huh? On the railroad track. Yeah, on the railroad track. So he came.
We were all sitting, it was the winter time. We was popping pop corn
and sitting there talking. He knocked at the door and my grandma
Alfred Smith 53
went to the door. So I heard my grandma say, come in, Sheriff.
Come in. We all here eating some pop corn. He come in. So he told
my grandpa. He said, Jim, I want you to do something. He said, you
know we found a white fellow killed on the salt mine track on the
railroad track there and these crazy Cajuns here they want to start
some trouble here. They figure some black man killed him and he
said the man wasn’t killed by no black man and they got a boy. I had
to arrest a boy and lock him up in jail for safe keeping. And he said
they trying to form a lynch mob. And he said what I’m going to do, I
just called Sheriff Motaw, the sheriff at Lafayette and telling him that
I’m going to, sneak him out of jail and send him there and I want you
to take him. He say I got a skiff, the jail still sits on the bayou ( ). He
said there’s a skiff I’ve got tied up behind the jail there. Now I’m
going to lower this guy out the jail on a rope he said because this boy
didn’t, I know this boy didn’t kill this white man, but these crazy
Cajuns here they just want some Negro to lynch. I’m not going to
have that here. So my grandpa reached up and got his Winchester
rifle and went and left with the sheriff. I was about, about, around
about six or seven years old. The winter time too. And the sheriff
turned this fellow over to my grandpa. My grandpa got into the skiff
Alfred Smith 54
behind the jail because the jail sits right on the bayou, still sits on the
bayou like it is there now and lowered him down in the skiff. He had
called the sheriff in Lafayette that he was sending this man there with
my grandfather for safe keeping, you know.
Armfield: Do you know whatever happened to the man?
Smith: No, I don’t remember. I don’t remember, cause I was about seven or
eight years old then. Cause this sheriff here said, Henderson, he said I
know that boy didn’t kill this man. He said but these Cajuns all drunk
and they wants a lynching. I ain’t going to have that here. So how it
ever come out I don’t know because I was just about, I must have
been about six years old or seven years old. But to my knowledge,
nothing like that never happened here. I understand they had
something like that happen in St. Martinsville. That’s a little town 16
miles from here, but we never had that here.
Armfield: Sounds like they were getting ready to lynch somebody that night.
Alfred Smith 55
Smith: Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, you know. A few drunk rabble-rousers, you
know, and Henderson was a good law enforcement officer. He’s a
sheriff that’s no nonsense.
Armfield: Henderson?
Smith: Yeah. Sheriff Henderson. You go in the lobby of the courthouse
over there. You know where the new courthouse building over there?
Armfield: Uh huh.
Smith: The lobby, you’ll see Sheriff Henderson on the wall, the picture all up
in the lobby there. I don’t know what you call them there.
Armfield: Okay. I think I’ll maybe get a chance to stop by there and see that
picture before I leave town. Okay, if you don’t have anything else
that you just particularly want to say.
Smith: That’s about, anything you got in mind, you got to remind me.
Alfred Smith 56
Armfield: What I’m going to do is I’m going to take the time to fill out this brief
paperwork with you to get your family history and as we talk, you
never know.
Smith: Yeah. Something will come up.
Armfield: Another story may come up, but we’ll keep the tape recorder running
and we’ll get your family history for the paperwork. Now your last
name is Smith.
Smith: Right.
Armfield: And your first name is?
Smith: Alfred.
Armfield: A-l-f-r-e-d.
Smith: Alfred J. Smith. J for James.
Alfred Smith 57
Armfield: Alfred J. Smith. The address here is 522.
Smith: Weeks Street.
Armfield: Weeks Street. And this is New Iberia?
Smith: New Iberia, Louisiana. Now my birthplace, where I was raised at is
…
Armfield: I’m going to ask you that.
Smith: Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.
Armfield: We’re going to get to all of that. What’s your birth date?
Smith: January 29, 1907.
Armfield: January 29, 19.
Smith: 07.
Alfred Smith 58
Armfield: ‘07. Man, have you been blessed to be around quite awhile.
Smith: I’m going down hill gradually though. Old age has caught up with
me.
Armfield: I’ll be. You’ve just got a head cold. It’ll be okay.
Smith: Oh, got more than a head cold. My memory is bad. It’s better now
than in the last two weeks than it was a month ago.
Armfield: So you really have good days and bad days.
Smith: Oh yeah. I’m improved. My memory has improved a lot. I had some
very bad experience in New Orleans there with my family, my
daughter, you know, a thing of the card. These young people, you
know, they take advantage, a thing of the card. I’m going to let them
go so far and no further, you know, and that upset me quite a bit.
That’s why I left New Orleans and came on here. And Miss Simon
here, my friend, we been friends a long time, she gave me a place to
Alfred Smith 59
stay here, you know, and to recuperate and my doctors, Dr. Castello, I
knew him in New York. He practiced -- I was surprised when I come
and find him here. He was taking care of me, you know. So I’m
comfortable.
Armfield: I trusted ( ) strength. Now your place of birth. You were born?
Smith: New Iberia.
Armfield: In New Iberia.
Smith: 427 Field Street.
Armfield: And that’s Iberia Parish. And your principle occupation? You were a
musician.
Smith: I was a musician. And then in my later years, after I went to New
York, I went to nursing school and was LPN New York state licensed.
And I worked at Montiferal Medical Center nine years.
Alfred Smith 60
Armfield: Just hold off. I’m going to get that in just a few minutes. This phone
number here again is?
Smith: 364-3185. Let me look again. 365. I think that’s.
Armfield: 365-3187.
Smith: That’s it. That’s it. That’s it
Armfield: Now for the official records the materials that we are collecting from
you will be housed at Duke University in the archives. For the official
record you want your name to be listed as Alfred J. Smith or you want
to write out James.
Smith: You can just put Alfred J. Smith. Either one. It doesn’t make any
difference.
Armfield: Alfred J. Did you have a nickname of sorts?
Alfred Smith 61
Smith: Let me see. Yes, some of my boys I grew up around here with used to
call me Britt, B-r-i-t-t. I think they took that from some cowboy
picture long years ago.
Armfield: Local people, some of them know you as Britt?
Smith: Yeah. I think I’ve outlived all that old bunch though. My last friend
died here about eight months ago.
Armfield: Really. Now your marital status. Single, married, divorced or
widowed?
Smith: I’m divorced.
Armfield: What was your wife’s found name?
Smith: Well, my first wife’s name was Elizabeth Samson. Elizabeth Samson.
That’s my children’s mother.
Armfield: Okay. Sampson was her last name.
Alfred Smith 62
Smith: Uh huh. She’s a native of New Orleans.
Armfield: Is that S-a-m-p-s-o-n?
Smith: S-a-m-s-o-n. I think that’s the way she spells it. S-a-m-s-o-n.
Armfield: That’s spelled S-a-m-s-o-n?
Smith: Yes, uh huh.
Armfield: Okay. Did you remember her birth date?
Smith: No, I sure don’t.
Armfield: Is she alive?
Smith: No. She died. We separated and divorced. She remarried and she
died, let me see. Elizabeth died. She died since I retired and left New
Alfred Smith 63
York and came here. I can’t think of the date right now. I’d have to
look it up or call the kids and ask about it.
Armfield: Okay. Do you recall where she was born?
Smith: She was born here in New Orleans, in New Orleans.
Armfield: In New Orleans. That was one of the two you had.
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: And what was her occupation?
Smith: She was a nurse. She worked for Turow Infirmary. Obstetrics was
her specialty, cause at that time Turow, Negroes could go to Turow
Clinic, but they didn’t admit no Negroes into the hospitals as patients.
And her specialty was obstetrics. And say for instance, women who
went to Turow Clinic and come time for them to confine to have their
child, they had them at home. So my wife delivered them at home.
That was her job.
Alfred Smith 64
Armfield: Okay. So she was a traveling nurse.
Smith: Yeah.
Armfield: She went door to door.
Smith: Yeah. That’s right and her chief, her doctor who she worked under
was Dr. Avan. He was chief of obstetrics at Turow Infirmary.
Armfield: Dr. Avan. Was he in fact a black man or a white man?
Smith: No, he was a white man.
Armfield: Okay. Now what was your mother’s first name.
Smith: Well, mother’s first name was Alvertia, A-l-v-e-r-t-i-a. Alvertia
Smith. She was a Smith and married a Smith. Her maiden name was
Smith.
Alfred Smith 65
Armfield: She never changed her name. A-l-v-e-r-t-i-a.
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Now, and Smith was her maiden name?
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Okay. Do you recall your mother’s birth date?
Smith: I sure don’t.
Armfield: Okay. What about her death date?
Smith: Let me see now. I’m trying to think. Let me see. Just let me see. I
can’t remember it right now.
Armfield: Okay. What about your mother’s place of birth? Where was your
mother born?
Alfred Smith 66
Smith: New Iberia. My father’s home was New Iberia too.
Armfield: And your mother, what was your mother’s occupation?
Smith: She was a hair dresser at one time. She ran a beauty parlor at one
time.
Armfield: Your father’s first name?
Smith: Alfred.
Armfield: Alfred Smith I assume?
Smith: That’s right.
Armfield: Did he have a middle name?
Smith: No.
Armfield: Okay, and do you know your father’s birth date?
Alfred Smith 67
Smith: Uh, right off hand, no.
Armfield: Okay. Can you recall when he died?
Smith: Wait a minute. Let me put my hand on this. I think I got it written in
here.
Armfield: So you have your father’s birth date in your bible?
Smith: I’m not sure. My mother had a real large bible, you know.
Armfield: That’s okay. We only want what you know anyway and you don’t
remember your father’s birth date nor when he died, right?
Smith: No.
Armfield: Okay. And your father was from New Iberia also. And your father’s
occupation.
Alfred Smith 68
Smith: Worked at a saw mill, laborer.
Armfield: Day laborer. Did you have brothers and sisters?
Smith: I got one brother.
Armfield: Okay. And what was his name?
Smith: Hinton. H-i-n-t-o-n.
Armfield: H-i-n-t-o-n.
Smith: C for Clyde.
Armfield: Smith?
Smith: Smith.
Armfield: And what was your brother’s birth date?
Alfred Smith 69
Smith: I’m seven years older than him.
Armfield: And you were born in 1907. So he was born in 1914. Do you know
his birth date?
Smith: It was in the month of July I know, but right off hand I can’t.
Armfield: July 1914. Close enough. Is your brother still alive?
Smith: Oh yeah.
Armfield: Okay. And where was he born?
Smith: New Iberia. He grew up and went to school in Orange, Texas, you
know. I never did like Orange.
Armfield: And you were the, you were the first child, right?
Smith: I’m the first child. It’s only two of us.
Alfred Smith 70
Armfield: Now do you have children?
Smith: Yes. I have two sons and a daughter. My elder son died about, oh,
about a year and a half ago.
Armfield: Okay. Well, give me your children’s names in the order of their ages.
Smith: Okay. Anthony E. Smith. That’s my eldest, oldest boy. He died
about three years ago in Veteran’s Hospital. He was a 30 year veteran
in the army.
Armfield: All right. What’s your second child’s name?
Smith: Alfred S. Smith.
Armfield: And your youngest?
Smith: That’s my daughter. Mary. Mary Illa. Parkman. ( )
Alfred Smith 71
Armfield: Okay. Do you remember all three of your children’s birth dates, Mr.
Smith.
Smith: I sure don’t.
Armfield: Do you remember Anthony’s birth date, your oldest?
Smith: Wait a minute. Let’s see. I’m having sort of a memory lapse. Andy
was born in 19. I think I got that written down in another bible if I
can put my hand on the one I was looking for.
Armfield: Go ahead.
END OF INTERVIEW