"One time my old master Hancock, got mad at my uncle, who was a growed up nigger. Old marse wanted to whip him. He tried to make my uncle put his head twixt his (old marser's) knees. My uncle didn't offer to fight him, but twisted him roun' and roun' trying to get his head out. He gave one twist dat throwed old marse down to de ground. My uncle jumped and run and jumped over de fence. My uncle did not belong to old marse but to his son, Bill. But old marse sure got mad when my uncle run. So he sold him to a man named Dokes—a nigger trader of dat neighborhood. Dokes bought niggers and sold dem on de block in St. Louis. When Dokes took my uncle away, one of our neighbors by de name of Fisher—up near Strafford, gits on his horse and goes to Springfield and tells my young boss, Bill, dat old man Hancock had sold Joe and Jane. Jane belonged to Marse Hancock. Mister Fisher had only one colored man, and he told my young boss, Bill, dat if he would buy both them niggers back, dat he would buy Jane for his (Fisher's) colored man. He didn't have no woman for him.
"Old Dokes was on his way den to St. Louis with 'em. Bill and Fisher started out, rode and caught up with dem near what is now known as Knob View, Missouri. When dey come in sight of Dokes, Bill stopped and dropped back. Fisher goes up to de wagon, stopped Dokes and asked him what he would take for Joe and Jane. They was settin' up in the wagon handcuffed together. I think it was a thousand dollars or fifteen hundred dollars he asked for both. Den Fisher beckoned to Bill Hancock to come on. Bill come up and paid Dokes what he asked. Dokes was to take 'em back, hisself, to dere own neighborhood.
"When marse Bill rode up, my uncle said, 'Take these handcuffs off me'. Mr. Dokes took them off. My uncle jumped out of de wagon and run up to de big mule my young boss was settin' on, he reached up an' took Bill, his marster off dat mule so quick and lay him down on de ground. He commenced to love and kiss him on side of his head. He picked him up and sat marse Bill on his mule again and said, 'I know marse Bill wasn't goin' to let me be sold.' He takes him off his mule again and lay him down two times more and keep lovin' and kissin' him, he was dat happy.
"But old marse Hancock, jes' wouldn't let Joe live on his place again, no more. He was dat mad. It made him so mad to think Joe had turn him over when he had his legs twixt his knees. But young marse Bill took Joe to Springfield and hired him out to a blacksmith by de name of Lehr. He got forty dollars a month for him. Joe stayed dere till de Civil War. Old master let Joe come to de house to see his mother, my old granny, once in a while, but never to live.
"Old man Fisher bought de colored woman from marse Bill, for his colored man, and paid him as he could. Our white folks had plenty of money to get any thing they wanted.
"I first come to Rolla in 1869 and stayed till 1870. Then dere was only one brick house in Rolla, standin' where the Edwin Long Hotel now stands. Den I left and went to Cuba and stayed dere and at Salem til' 1882. I come back to Rolla when de Crandel House was built, where de Rolla Hospital now is located. I started a barber shop here under the Crandel House basement. I have been here and at Salem ever since 1882, Rolla my headquarters.
"If I can leave enough when I die, I want to be buried at the Union Graveyard in Greene County, Missouri, where my mammy is buried since three years before the Civil War. My daddy was buried there in 1863.
"When I was young, we didn't know nuthin' 'bout churches. Us kids never got to go no place 'less de old niggers took us. And dey wouldn't take us. De older ones had church out in de brash, under de shade trees.
"I kin 'member one of my cousins carryin' me pick-a-back, one time, three miles to church. Dey only had church in de summer time, or meeting dey called it. It was allus in de woods. We dassen't be ketched wid a book to read or to try to be educated. Course every one wasn't treated dat-a-way. Sometimes de niggers would have dancin', if de bosses or masters gave dem passes. De passes read sumpin' like dis: 'Let my nigger file pass and repass to such and such a place'.
"I 'member once, my missus bought me a pair of high top red boots. My! I was proud. In dem days, we went barefoot most all year round. But my missus tried to make us happy on Christmas. I put dem boots on and I pranced round and round jes' to hear dem squeak. I done thought dat was de purtiest noise I ever heard. I asked old missus, could I go to old Massy's house. He were our neighbor, 'bout half mile—but it were dark. Old missus said, 'Hain't you scared to go?' I say, 'No'. I went up de road, my boots squeaking and squeaking. Didn't have time to be scared—listenin' to dem boots.