"Dese young folks want too easy living. And dey ain't brung up to show respect to old folks like we is. If I goes down de walk and a bunch young folks is coming along, I knows I's got to step out of de way—'cause dey won't give any. And if some little ones on roller skates is coming down de sidewalk—you better git off or dey'll run right into you.
"I was tellin' you 'bout Miss Katie coming to see me, wasn't I? Well just last week her boy come to see me. He's maybe 25 or 30 year old. Somebody told him 'bout me and he come here and he sit right dar on de porch fer a hour and talk with me. He was a fine young man, he was."
Interview with George Bollinger
[TR: by Mollie E. Smith].
NOTE: George Bollinger and his family live in a nice one-and-one-half story house, which they own. They have always been industrious people and their home is nicely kept. George is 84 years old and seems to enjoy life. He was glad to talk over "old times", especially after he recognized me, (The "Me" being Mollie E. Smith) and recalled that he used to work in my grandfather's Tan Yard. George Bollinger is living at 320 N. Spriggs St., Cape Girardeau, Missouri.
"We lived out on de edge o' Bollinger County. 'Ole Massa's' name was 'Dal Bollinger'. 'Ole Missus,' we always called, "Aunt Polly". Den day wuz young 'Massa Dave,' and young 'Missie Katie'.
"My Pappy's name wuz 'Bollinger' 'en my mammy wuz 'Temple'. My pappy wuz a smart man. He cud read and write. I don't know whar he learned it. An' he had de power, my daddy did. He cud break a 'Hoodoo' spell, an' he cud tell things dat happened wen he diden see it—If one a' de folks went to town he cud tell 'em jes everything dey don dere.
"Dey wuz 'bout 20, mebby 25, slaves on de place, 'en we all lived in a big, old log house. My mammy wus a good cook 'en she cud spin en weave. She made all de clothes we wore. Us chilluns never wore no pants—jes sumpin like a long shirt made o' homespun. We didden know nuthin' 'bout learnin'. Dey wuz a church, but we didden go much, 'en we never had no kind 'er gatherin's. Dey wouldn' let de cullered folks congregate—no, shu, why, even de man over at de store wouldn't let mo' dan two cullud folks come in at a time.
"I didden even know what money wuz. Massa' had a chest 'bout three feet long—up in a little attic. It wuz jes' full o' gold 'en silver money—no 'greenbacks'. It wuz covered over wif rugs, 'en I never know'd what wuz in dere—we used to go up der to play sumtimes on rainy days, an Aunt Polly'd holler, 'Ef you don' cum down fum dere de ghosts 'ul git ye'. I never seed inside de chest 'till dey bury it—dat wuz in war-time. Dey put a big hand spike under it 'en de men carry it down by de sugar grove de udder side o' de graveyard. I cud go, right now 'en show you de very spot dey bury it. De bes' times we-ens had wuz going fishing, an' man! did we like to fish. Allus we had Saturday atternoon off, 'lessen it wer wheat harvest 'er sumthin' special like. 'En Sunday's we allus fished all day long.
"One time day wuz two hundred sojers cum to our place—dey wuz Southerners, an' dey wuz nearly starved. Massa tole 'em dey cud kill dat big steer. Dey shoots him 'en 'fore he drops dey wuz on him; skinnin' him. By dat time udders had a fire built 'en de men pull out dey knives 'en dey cut off hunks; dey puts 'em on a stick 'en hol's 'em ovar de fire a few minutes—didden give 'em time to cook thru fore dey et it. Dat ole steer didden last long. 'En 'Massa' had ten cribs 'er corn. He tole' em to —— dey selves. 'Bout dat time a dispatch came, dat de "Yankees" wuz commin'. Dey went up to meet 'em, 'an dey had a battle over at Patton. Long 'bout midnight sum of 'em came back, wounded. Aunt Polly helped 'em, but she begged 'em not to stay dere, or de "Yankees" cum in, burn de house down.
"Aunt Polly 'en mammy allus know'd whut to do when a body wuz ailin'. Dey allus had a bag o' yarbs hangin' under de porch. When de sojers wuz commin' we allus hid de hosses. Massa' had lots ob 'em, 'en Missie —— had de pudttiest black mare. It's name wuz 'Kate'. Des one time de hosses musta skered 'er sumpin—de sojers foun' 'em, an' here dey com ridin' up past de house wid every on of our hosses.