Document text
July U. 149
*imam and Carrie Mills (oisipm)
Route 06, Hendersonville, C.
Laborer*
?Ian* lwaesimino, Interviewer and writer*
UNCLE ULYSSES: BELIEF CLIENT
Origiaol
v4inalow kills
Carrie Allen Kills
adissiLliikau
Uncle Ulysses P101
Aunt Lucinda Peak
UNCLE ULUCESs RELIEF CLIENT
"Ue ain't none of us got nuthin' much nuthin' but
piddlin' little relief jobs an' young —um; t' put clothes
on an' we wouldn't have nuthin' t' put on 'am at it
warn't tar this yore place. And Unele Ulysses pointed
down the straggling. dejected line of :legroom in battered
overalls and faded dresose, to the doorway of the relief
agency.
i ain't nowt seed the country so rale poor."
he vent on, evidently bailing this observation upon the
length of tne line of relief clients. "Lardy. Lardy'
ain't this some line?"
"Longer'n I'd keen t' wait t" git inter heaven.*
put in his wife. *Ant it hotter'n a griddle on a
wood -stove out yere in the sun. too.*
As she spoke she shifted from one foot to the
other, fanning her face with the brim of a discolored
straw hat. ner dress, faded with many years exposure
to the intense neat of tne North Carolina sun, and
damp with perspiration* shaped itself with clammy
adhesiveness to her form and showed distinctly the
angular outline of her teal, thin old body.
"It's hot, for a irtain." remarked nor husband.
U4n hot, too, ever since we come this massive. I reckon
ef we don't it took Weer of direct14, we're likely t'
The old woman mopped her brow at this, and shifting
her feet, looked restlessly over t -e shoulders of those
ahead of her.
"Lf we don't it ti moving on directly, we're
likely t ,it left, you mean," se said, and she
pointed out tneir position near the end 4 the LAWS
and the infrc.uency with which the need of the line
melted off in segments inside the relief offices. To
those observations her husband wails no response, out
continued to ohuffle forward expectantly when the line
took up its slack, or peer ahead forlornly, with a
-mist anxiety, WAG the forward m,,v4o4.ent halted.
preeented no less a ia. careworn, sweating
picture of human poverty than his wife. IL* roughly
shod feet, t.,e *oiled, torn shirt, ti.e reasy suspenders
which supported trousers that were worn to shreds
around his -re ankles, the ,uiet concern in his
watery eyes, the bumble unobtrusivenese of his race
all owe bim the appearance of a peraou who had never
known anything uut tni despair of complete, abject
poverty.
"Sun's direotly overhead now," he ooserved at
last. "An' I Mimi them say that the offices collacts
the last ticket an' closes come dinner time. I reckon
we ain't about t' git took kaer of today."
He shifted from one foot to the other and signed.
"I toll, you." said his wife. "Wa should of got
us a early start. is Lough% of, too, hadn't ben for
you missinl aroma' loOcinl for the ow momt of the
mornin"."
"Hush up. Cindy1" the old colored man said
half credal/6 'Bow was I t' know the critter'd it
out. sides I hurried bast i. could. Lou ain't got
no call tl talk like that." And be sagged despondently
on one lag and lapsed into silence.
rive minuted later there was a stir at the bead
or the line. An important -looking person in a white
shirt appaured and valled down the line from the
doorway of the relief agency. "All right1 All right1
he shouted. "That's all for today1" AAQ he went
back inside and closed the door.
Old Aunt Lucinda 4,1aad at him hubeM, than
at the doorway, staring in chagrin.
"Well." she exclaimed aharkily. "I mought of
knowed it1"
6he put ths straw hat on her hard and lot her
sullen eyes rest on her husband. ha watched the
lino disintograta, then he squared his shoulders as
if disappointment were something to be borne manfully,
and with a polite nod in my direction started off down
the street.
"Hold onl" I cried. wa st we talk. I'd like
you to tell as about yourself."
"Nuthin' tl tell," he maid. "An' 'sides I jos'
got t' it me hoe. I'm plum wore outen with the
heat."
"Lind if I go along with you?"
"tio....but it's a long wads• An' it's hot."
"You live in the country, then"
iassir. ..iot me a caoin out in the hills.
"Well. I'll walk along with you."
Uncle Ulysses ieck and his wife, Lucinda. trudged
41ong Ule road through a oountryside so hot that the
heat devils playing along the rows of corn gave off
an appearance more of mist than of hese. Them wao
not a cloud in the sky; and U -4e parched meadows and
fields of grain glistened fiercely under the direst
rays of the sun. '*4hen it seemed impossible for the
old couple to walk further in the intense heat, they
suddenly left the road for a shaded path through the
woods that lead finally into an opening where stood
a one room, windowless, clapboard shack.
Uncle Ulysses glanced My vOY.
"it's good t/ giL hems," he said. "I reckon
I wouldn't never go nowhere. ef I didn't have to,
it feels that good jest.beins hers."
Aunt Lucinda seconded this.
"I feels thataway myself," she said, as she
swung around ner husband and shuffled up the steps
and into tie cabin. &merging a moment later, a
cane -bottomed ciwir in each hand, she proffered one
to her husband and one to Le, and with a sigh of
exhaustion went back insiae. I heard tne sound of
her weight being placed on the bed springs; and
later on I osugnt tne muffled totals of nor laborious
breathing. sanwhile Uysses placed the
chairs outside, against tne wall in tne *nano, and
with rtliof we 4k.Ink Into our seats aad leaned back
comfortably. or a while we just drank in the cool
air, but in a moment or two the old colored an broke
the silence.
"I've gone an' (WOO col.sidible walains in my
time," ne said, it hain't never dons me no hurt.
but I is a-gittin' old or eumthint now, for it plumb
wears me tauten t' tat...ens-go nowadays. bigh blood
pressure is what tne doctor tole me I got. idebbe
-6.
so. mebbe so. I ain't got no call t$ dis'grie with no
sich memo but I reckon my saint come from sumthin'
he ain't sot no call to rightly know 'bout. rook leo
I ain't felt pert since I lef' up yen.*
I let my eyes follow the direction in whioh he
pointed and made out a cabin welled half way up the
side of a distant mountain,
*How is that?*
%ell, come a time when I hired out t' tote ties
for the railroad peoples, so I moved from up on that
tar mounting where the air was fraish ant the water
was pures the Lord could make it, an' went an'
moved in a old section house near tLe tracks. where
I done took the fever a-drinkin' of the water autos
the community well. There was a passel of colored
folks what took the fever that summer and died; an'
all that well needed was a bit of cleanin° up. But
the boss man he said he hain't ben hired t' clear up
the wells, is said he was there for t' git the work
dons, an' that he meant fir us t$ work hard an' know
that an' fergit the well, an' we did. But only didn't
we sit the hie:00st vase* we ever floored tell of a
dollar ton a day an' overtime exSry we sought of
rix up ant quit.
"Ef I had a jigger of stnss in thaw days, I reckon
I would of quit at that. For tne folks** warn asgittin0
the fever riaot along, an' I mought of knowsd it'd
ketch up with 44. but I stayed on, a-feelinl quars
most of the time, but I never paid it no stention till
along about one ni-ut atter I nad ben on the job 'bout
three months.
"I had ben runnin a lee tie temperature far about
a week which I Laid t' ta sun, for it was hot work
a-ptotin' them ties in the heat, when all t' a swoldint
ohs niout t4Aa thoSti man rousted me o,.ten the bed an'
tole ma t' fetch alchg t' holp clear up a breakdown
up the line. *all, sir, I ris t' my feet, but when
I retch/id for my shoes, an' bet over like, sich a
fainty spell coma over M4 liked t' drap square on
my face. 'This ain't 'out t! do,' I said t' mrsOf,
an' I crawled utak on the bed an' pat for Zihkly t'
coma an' look attar 1:4. I co* near t' Oyins that
Ltight, an' I knowild in reason I done ketched the
fever from a-lapplh' up 40 mucn of that well water
t' keep my tongue from a..elogginl t' the rot of
my mouth whilst I was a-workine in the saa.
'Anywais, tho ztwornin' the railroad people
went an' fetched me a nurse, an' sue ‘iva me a doset
of castor oil an' said I would be all right. But I
didn't OA all right not far the lonost time. I
jos' sot en' sot in that old shanty, OareXy able t*
move, a-wastins an' awitorryin"cause I was a-fealin*
so bed an' ‘.ause my pay check didn't come no more an*
cause Cindy an' the kids warn't gittin' the right
kine of food. why, 1 kept so poor from jos' the curry,
that d'rect/y it was winter store I could git about
.in. When I did sit up an' aroun', the boss man
pestered ma far t' it. back ts work, but I tole him
had done uit. He tole ma that I would have t' git
outon the c.anty, than, an' make way far someone who
would work, an' 1 said it was all ricnt with ma. Then
I got. I was coin' t' leave anyhow. I didn't figger
far ts die a-drinkin' of that favor water."
Uncle Ulysses slipped off a shoe and with a bare
toe began to scratch his other leg. I wondered what
his reaction was to the manner in which ha had been
treated on the railroad Job. %dr& Judiciously asking
him about it, I discover d that he held himself entirely
to blame fvr what happened.
*It wasn't no fault of ludbody but myee'f," he
said. "I ain't aupiblamin" them. I brought myee'f down..
..that I did. I knowed about that lir wall. An' I
knowod in reason that of I took the job I'd have t work
in the heat of ti4o day socAtimos, eve, it out an'
work in U111 siii„4114. .4.4* ti nig.,t atter w,rain. all day,
like offon there was a train wreak or of the rains
came an' tore up a section ;:f the roadbed. All that
I knowod. o nobody was tl 04AM4 but spier. 'Course
I was findini it kinder hard tl git along, an' I had
a family, an' that was 'tout the oiaieot cash monsy
jaw I could it. An' when a an gits into a fix like
that, he jes' sort of clog)** his eyes t' some this,
lixe sich thil4,* as fever water, 'cause he is a-thinkin'
bout now handy will be the money he ear 44, Anyway*,
that's tno way I tiered. Lo I vomit to work a-knowin"
',out the work. An' cause of that, I reckon I should
of suffered. Qnly I should have felt right bad of
Cindy an' the young-iuns would of kotched ary of them
fever germs outon that well."
"Young ones?"
"Ussir. 'Utast they was younc,..uns then. Xow
they is gruwod up. Zhat is, four of 'es are. They
is s*SY in home* of their own now. Four of the hectic
ono* is at holm &ram' Wire with Cindy an' me."
Uncle Ulysses unfolded his hailds which were
cushioning his head from contact with the wall and
pointed to a child playing in a nearby field.
"Yanla my youngest," be said. he's six. The
other three what stays at home with us is all girls,
too. The oldest one is fifteen. Then there's two
married, an' two off a-workin' fir white folks in town.
Do the cooxins au' sich thins as that, an' make a
right smart of :iney at it, too.
oussatY Mo. 'We don't see such of 'em anymore.
Once in a while they comes tl call. But they says they
has their own lives t' live now, sich as it is, an'
they 'pears sometimes t' be plumb ashamed t have their
city friends know 'bout us i,kAorant country colored
folk. Hot that I bleu* them, either. But was a time
when things was different. shy, I 'members the time
when I give up a rii.a; good tenant farm what a white
man tgive me te wurk on sherws, jos' tl git them young
um, closter t/ t_wn wnere turf girls could pick up a
few dollars a-washins clothes an' tue boys could it
jobs a-drivin' tuea f'ai4cy ciare for tne tourister
peoples."
Uncle Ulysses, his watery eyes h4lf closed,
yawned. Lie lifted his flat from 'W,s head and dropped
it on the ground at tiAt side of his chair. His
ra&sd shirt roas and fell wit.t te swell of his breast.
His hared head disclosed a thatch of clOeiay-cropped,
cottony white hair, he scratched his head meditatively,
then finally Lxoke his silence e141 resumed where he
had left off.
'It *as different WNW they waa young. The
children, A. meaL. They was rale nice te Cindy an' me.
But when they 6ot rowed, an' got them a paosel of
friends, en' learned 'bout is from school books,
than they w different somehow. i don't rignt11
know why. uly do I know that ms an' Cindy ain't
never chogioiti much, an' we rowed up too. I reckon
mebbe it is 'cause we ain't never had no book learnine.
That's the trouble with bookie, an' with schools.....
fou it te knowin'what all is in the world what you
ain't got en' ain't never likely t' it, an' than you
ain't eprociable of the tnihgs you on brought up
to. I'm satisfi'd that is what them school books done
for m;,' own young-uhs.
"hike 1 said, Cindy an' ma hain't never nad no
book l'arnine an' we hainet never bad no cause te
miss it none. llien we got murri.z.d, we figgured
wed Jes' wive some young-uns, 4;it us a farm, an'
live back in tie yore hills. 44111, air, we had
the young-uns, out it was a long time afore we got
-3.
to it us a farm cack in tha hills, for directly them
children rowed up an' got in school, an' l'arnsd 'bout
how other people liveo, two' pestered me t' move from
one place t'oter, till 'fore I knowsd it I was even
dieginl sewer ditoLAss so's them young-uns could live
near town. An' 'till they was growid enough tl *ter
for themiefs, I worked like a dawg, mostly for nigger•
drivins white boss men, jea' far them, enAin all of the
time me an' Cindy could hardly b'ar bein' away from these
pm. hills."
"But you did come back finally."
"fassir. I coma back. I come back atter I was too
old an' wore outen t' it along on la;*d that most *woody
could make a livin' on an' not half ury. ias, I come
back. An' I ItAmbers when I fust s,t syss on that 'ax'
bottom over yen. 'Cindy,' I said, 'I swear that's the
:oshafulest gooa land did I ever see in my life. That
ar crick bio'll make tolerable corn.' An it did.
That is, it did the twit _oar. But I was ailin' too
bad LI keep t,4 lard up. me next plating time,
I was laid up with t.s hurtin' in my back. It was
all I could do t' fotch myee'f t' Vas dinner table.
"That was at fust. Atter that t.me time when
there wasn't nothing tl pull myse'f t' the table for.
»13
Hadn't been for relief Jos' then, I reckon we'd like
tl go plumb hongry. They ive us food for awhile, then,
later on, I neared Viloy was gwina t' pay colored mans
cash money fir a-workin° on the relief. I went an'
tole 'em I couldn't work none at rale hard labor, but
if they would hire me tley wouldn't be no nigger more
willin' than me, so they took my 'samination, an' all
tl oncet tile), called me tl work on a leetle piddlins
Job what didn't hurt me none, an' I ben a-workinl at
it ever
"workite Out what about the line at tne offices
of the relief agency?"
Hiassir. The line, tall, sir, tnat's different,
you see. That's for clotioss. You see we its paid
far workin1 all ri4nt, but it uon't never 'mount t'
waren enough t' pay tar food an' the like of that.
So one day evey month we-uns 40> mere t' OA shoes
an' old clothes, and sich as that. Yessir. That's
how cora far you t' ate us there this morninl."
The old colored an Oeca4le $ileht. e heard
Aunt LLcinda up ac stIrrili around inside the cabin'
Uncle Ulisses ti tilted his c air &wig from the wall
and stood as si,t came to tt:e door. Ti4 sun had
dropptd out t; -A, and triere vait; a orowinc, chill
in the air. "Y'all better come in," called ^unt Lucinda,
as Uncle Ulysses put on the shoe he had taken off.
I glanced at ttoO ski. "I didn't notice that the sun
mad down," I said. "I didn't msau to keep you. In
fact, as it is I'll have to hurry to LAM back into
town before ark."
"LI all ri htl 'S all riLphtl" ti.e old negroes
chorused. "Come agin."
They walked over to the door of the cabin and
stood there ti.etchin6 Ly ...aperture. Down the path a
way, I stopped fcr a islahce back at the openin401 I
saw Uhcle Llyesea carryiLg the chairs back into the
cabin. :here was another fic,ure i4 tht field alone.
side tne houde,t„etheri;., dry Lrush for the evening
fires. It appeared to cAl tr. little ,irl of six,
althe,h I could not see her ts. I could, however,
pmke out nor faded torn rees and ware feet that
must have found the early eveDina, dew zxceedingly
cold. I won,ared idly shetner Ione would have bosh
wearini, shoes nad the old couple .arrived earlier at
She relief agency that moraine:. .aybe yes. h.'aybe
no. Anyway, I found it distressin4 to think that
the comfort aii wall bet% of any hwt;In beih„; ni;ged
upon such ounce.