Document text
September 21, 1939
Tohn Polk Wallace (Farmer)
HUntersville, N.C.
Mary P. Wilson, writer
Dudley W. Crawford, reviser
Original Names: Changed Names:
John Polk Wallace George T. Wilkins
Fannie Emmie
Tim Sid
Daisy Dixon Dona Dean
"Good God almighty, Miss Emmie, can't you teach
these blame chickens no better manners than this? Hope
I may die if they ain't roosting in my jalopy (automobile).
George Wilkins was more than six feet tall with a heavy
head of hair which was liberally turning grey. He wore
waist -length overalls which looked many sizes too small.
His peculiar tone of voice, his unusual appearance and
extreme animation marked him as either a half-wit or
a man who had carried his childhood propensities into
middle life. His habit of calling his mother "Miss
Emmie", and his father "Sid", might possibly be accounted
for by classifying him as an example of arrested develop-
ment.
"No wonder I have trouble keeping me a gal friend; 'course
they don't want to ride in a chicken coop."
Miss Elamie ignored the ravings of her over grown
son until she looked at him for a while and then remarked:
"All right, George J, go ahead and use that gun you keep
swinging in your belt; shoot the whole bunch and then
I'll let you look after the grocery bill. You know these
chickens keep your Pa and you from having to go in debt;
furthermore, if you'd find a girl that was any account
to work, I'd much rather you'd marry her and bring her
on home so she could help me with my chores. No, you're
not satisfied unless you're romping the roads, sucking
cigarettes and drinking liquor. You needn't shake your
head at me, I don't need to hush 'cause we got a visitor.
You're going to have to stay here and entertain her while
I take my eggs to the market. Where's your Pa?
"How you expect me to keep up with Sid? Maybe he
is out in the crib sampling that wine you hid the other
day."
"Don't tell me you both have found it. I declare
to goodness, I won't have a drop left for the preacher
to use for communion." Miss Ettimie hurried toward the
crib and emerged with her guilty spouse.
"I'll never give you another drink of any liquor
I have", Sid told his son. "You could have told your
MA I WAS at the stable and give me a chance to come in
the house instead of telling her where I was. Some of
these days I'm going to forget myself and give you the
thrashing you deserve." George's Pa was a short, thick
shouldered man. His red -rimmed eyes rested in pains-
taking scrutiny on the figure of his son.
"Came on MA, let's get to town early 'fore such a
crowd gathers. I'm sure the lady understands why we
have to leave; George X. can talk enough and more for
all of us."
In a few minutes Miss Emmie and Sid were headed
toward town with their eggs, leaving their peculiar son
to give the story I wanted.
"It's a wonder they didn't have two or three flat
tires for me to fix for them 'fore they could leave.
Sid won't even let me have a piece of patching rubber
for my jalopy, but they always know who to call on when
they have trouble. I ain't treated right, but I have
to put up with it; I ain't got no education to git out
in the world and hustle for myself. Now, Sid and Miss
Emmie will give my arother anything, and to my notion
he's as law -down mean to them as anyone could possibly
be. He went and mistreated his wife 'fore they married
and I seen his shot -gun wedding. He lives down yonder
in the field in that new house and Sid and Miss Emmie
supports him and his wife and two children. Sid expects
me to plow today while he's gone, but he's going to get
fooled. Me, I'm going to leave and get drunk after a
while." George slammed his car door and turned, rage
clouding his heavy features. His stained hands knotted
into fists. His tousled hair and whiskers bristled
with resentment. "Now, I knowlI knawiI would hurt myself
more than Sid; I guess I'll forget about it. Come
in the house and stay as long as you like.
"I was born and raised here in this old house.
You can see Sid tried to keep it painted but Miss Mamie
don't waste much time inside since she got those chickens;
she's got about two or three thousand. She don't even
let Sid and me have any milk to drink; gives it all to
them pets of hers.
"I'm thirty eight years old and I want to leave
the farm. One of my boy friends promised to get me
a job scrubbing in the mill where he works. I'm going
to take it if he does; maybe I can get to learn haw to
do something else and make some real money. Sid only
gives me one third of the cotton crop for all the work
I do. I'd done left him 'fore now if he hadn't been
getting old. 4Taint no use of him taking advantage
of me 'cause I belong to him. All I hope is I'll be
missed a little if I do get a chance to go in the mill.
"I wish you could see my gal, her name is Dona
Dean. Miss Mimie says she's too young for me, but I
enjoy going to see her and if she ain't got no better
sense than to like a no-good ugly thing like me, well,
that's my good luck. I ain't a -wanting to get married
nohow; what would an old ignorant man like me do with
a wife if he had one?
I don't mean to rush you, but I tspect I'd
better get that work done for Sid sots he'll forget
about me telling Miss Emmie he was in her wine.
"Fore you go, I'll tell you something right funny.
About three months ago I went to the mail box for Sid
and found thirty five gallons of whiskey some bootlegger
had hid in the bushes. I rushed back to the house and
got the wagon. I remember loading it on early that
morning, but I don't know much about what happened after
that. Sid says I was gone 'till after dark and when
I brung the team home I had drunk or wasted five gallons
of moonshine. He took a plank and beat me 'cause I was
so excited I left his cotton check in the mail box."