All God's Dangers (34 page)

Well, I didn't get two miles and right there at Highgate, Mr. Craven had a son livin up there, called him Doc Craven. He lived on the left of the road right along there before you get to Zion. I looked out and seed Mr. Doc Craven walkin along the road a short distance this side of his house.

He hollered, “Let me ride in there, let me ride in there.”

I was goin to Apafalya to get me some salt; I stopped the mule and buggy—and that mule was just as fat as a pig, she just wobbled almost in the harness between the shafts. Mr. Craven climbed in my buggy, raised up and looked around. Said, “Goddamn, there aint many white folks got a outfit like this, and no niggers—” throwin that slang just like his daddy done in my yard a few minutes before.

I didn't say a word. I said to myself, ‘I didn't haul you up here to hear that shit.' I got him right to his house, stopped and let him off. Well, I thought over his comment and what his daddy had said. One made a moderation at my meat, the other, here he was makin a moderation at my mule and buggy. It just fell in my mind that the Craven family hated to see niggers livin like people.

I carried him home and stopped. I'd picked him up way down the road below his house—don't know what business he had in the road and didn't try to find out. It was none of my business. I just picked him up and pleasured him to a ride on home. At that present time he was livin in a house that I do definitely know it was built for a Negro, built for John Ivey, a nigger. The house was right on the public line; white folks didn't like to see niggers livin right on the front—that was well known amongst the niggers.

Well, I was a Negro of this type: regardless to what people said, regardless to how much I knowed that they was a enemy to me, I just pulled myself along anyhow to the best of my abilities and knowledge. Didn't hold myself back like they wanted me to. So that man that spoke that word about my meat, then I went on up the road and done his son a favor, picked him up and carried him home, cut him out of some of that walkin, and he jumped up and admired my mule and buggy in a way that made it clear he didn't like to see no nigger have a outfit like that—and it would have made him spiteful to see a
white
man with it—happened all one evenin.

T
IME
I could get my crop planted and laid by, here come Mr. George Pike, goin by Mr. Ed's orders, put some men to haulin lumber. And he come to my house a bustin.

“Nate, the lumber's dry enough to haul. Why don't you put your wagon on the road and go to haulin?”

He changed his song right there. I picked up that pair of mules, hitched em up, and crawled right on the job. They was haulin from a yard of lumber just south of me right joinin my daddy-in-law's plantation, up a big swamp. Mr. Ed gived us three dollars a thousand to haul that lumber in to the planer at Apafalya. Shipped that lumber out of there, every bit of it, shipped it on the railroad. I didn't know where it was goin. That lumber run right out from under the shed where the planin machine was set; had
a man standin there feedin it in, and it goin right up in a carbox. And a man, one or two men in that carbox catchin that lumber, drawin it in, stackin it.

Put me in there haulin that lumber; put white men in there with their teams. Put Mr. Horace Tucker in there, Lemuel Tucker's brother, him drivin a pair of mules; and Mr. Horace's son, Estes Tucker, he was big enough to drive. Mr. Horace would come in there, him and Estes drivin a pair of mules apiece to two wagons. Mr. Horace would help load Estes' wagon and his'n too, and him and Estes would take off to that planer. Mr. Ben Stark was in there with a team, haulin, and I don't know who-all else; two or three more white men with their teams in there haulin. I was in there haulin.

When we hauled that first yard in to Apafalya, me in with that white crowd, Mr. Ed was payin us three dollars a thousand—Ooooooo, that just ruined some of the people, that's no lie. I hated to see it, but then if a man bring a thing on himself, why, he just out of luck; I can't help him. They runned in there, soon as they cleaned that yard up—I carried the last load in from that yard. Mr. Horace Tucker and them had done runned in there with their last loads and I was behind em, carryin in my last load, and wanted to find out from Mr. Ed Pike where was the next yard he wanted to haul from. He told em. They jumped up, bein white folks—but they got the wrong hog by the ear when they told Mr. Ed Pike the words that they told him—they told me that they told him when he told em what was the next yard, “We can't haul that yard as cheap as we hauled this other yard.” Wanted more money for haulin that yard than they got for the yard they just finished. What did he tell em? I heard definitely what he told em; he didn't tell me but some other parties was standin listenin at the subject. He told em, “Well, I'm runnin my own business. If you can't haul at the price I'm offerin you—now, boys, I'm lettin you all haul, farmers and all, if you got stock sufficient to haul that lumber in to me. I'm goin to pay a reasonable price that you can live on to help the poor class of people and the farmin people, givin you a job after your crop is laid by. I aint obliged to hire you; I'm doin that to help the people of the community. And if you can't haul at my price, go home and put your damn mules in the lot and stay off the job.”

That day we went in with our last loads, I didn't question him about it; he just come up and spilled it to me himself, told me,
“Well, Nate, I cut off them white fellows—” told me who-all they was. I hated to hear that. Mr. Horace Tucker was one of the ones he cut off; he always appeared to be a friend of mine. I didn't know his heart but I knowed what he done, how he acted and what he said. I hated to hear Mr. Ed Pike call off them white men's names—told em to go home and put their damn mules in the lot, turned em out. He didn't tell me what he said to em but other parties heard the conversation. Told em he weren't obliged to hire none of em, he was lettin em haul to help em. Well, that was true, in a way, but lumber don't walk to the mill. He stopped em cold from the shoulder then; there weren't no comeback to em.

I went on to the next yard where he directed me. There weren't no white men at that time real eager to go back with him because all the white people that was haulin from that yard where I started haulin from, he done stopped em, sent em home. When I drove up to the planer that mornin the mess was over; them white men had got their walkin papers. Well, I drove up, Mr. Ed come out to meet my wagon. I'd hauled my loads with a smile. Right then I had done set my business, got my crop laid by and turned my mules back to haulin lumber. Now especially he knowed he was goin to need me. He said, “Nate, do you want a regular job haulin lumber and maybe haulin logs sometimes? Do you want a regular job?”

Told him, “Yes sir, I'd be glad to have it.”

He said, “All right, tell you what I want you to do. You go over there to that yard of lumber back of Israel Fry, you topload that lumber out. I'm goin to give you a price that you can live at and clear a little money along for other uses or purposes. You go on over there and start to haulin that lumber out. See what you can make out of it at that price. And I'll be out there Tuesday mornin—that'll give you a day's haul over there before I come. And I'll see how you gettin along at it and decide with you whether you can make anything at it or not. If you can't I'll raise your wages.”

Monday mornin I hitched them mules of mine up and crawled on over there and got on the job. Hauled all day, I didn't play, hauled all day. And I seed that I
could
make a livin at it and have money to buy extra things at the price he first offered me. I always tried to look out in a way to not want more than I was worth—or less than I was worth. I wanted to get a reasonable price that I could live at for my labor.

Mr. Ed Pike come out there that Tuesday mornin and definitely
asked me, “Well, Nate, what have you decided? You think you can make it at that price or not?”

I said, “Mr. Ed, just let the matter rock along, I can live at that.”

I had done seed that I could make a livin—and I expect he seed I could too—and I didn't ask him to go up. Right there he liked my opinion, couldn't help but like it. Good times, fair days, with my health and strength, I could make a good livin at his price. I couldn't average top money every month of the year, but what was my place to do? Look out for off times and rainy days.

Soon, after awhile, some of them white men come back to haulin. Mr. Ed took em back at his price. They seed where they was losin money; their stock was standin in the lots at home and they feedin em and weren't makin a penny. Mr. Horace Tucker got back on, and a few more. And he put some colored men to haulin lumber beside me. All of us at the same price, one price for white and colored. Mr. Ed Pike come into this country from North Carolina; he weren't native to the state of Alabama, and that was his system of business.

Mr. Henry Culpepper went to Mr. Ed Pike one day—some of the rest of em come out that way, but weren't no use for me to worry; just go on haulin for the trucks out from them mill places. And Mr. Henry Culpepper went to him—I hated it but I couldn't help it, I didn't ask Mr. Ed for
that.
Mr. Henry Culpepper went to him one day and tried to get a job haulin, on the same job I was haulin, a job he used to have—Mr. Culpepper was in that crowd turned off their jobs. Some of em begged back, begged back. But Mr. Ed wouldn't take him back directly, and he told Mr. Culpepper and he told me—I hated that, Mr. Ed tellin him all that. He told him if he got a job he'd have to come in under me, said, “I got Nate out there haulin and all the business at the present time is in his hands about haulin out for the trucks. You can go and see what you can do with him. Whatever he says about it, that's with you and him. But listen, all your pay on haulin goes to Nate; you'll just have to look up to Nate for your money. I got him out there, he's over the job and you'll have to make it agreeable to him.”

Mr. Ed told me these words himself but I wouldn't mention to Mr. Culpepper what Mr. Ed told me. I just turned Mr. Culpepper down to his head. Here's the way he come to me: let him haul a week or two in my place and couldn't I find somethin else to do and
give him a chance to haul some. And even told me that he weren't able, out of his crop and so on, to pay his tax without gettin a job as a addition.

I said, “Well, I'm sorry, Mr. Culpepper, but I'm tied up with Mr. Ed Pike; I'm responsible to Mr. Pike to stay on this job. If I stays here there aint no room for nobody else. I got my family to support and my little demands to meet. I'm sorry, but I can't lay off my job a week or two, I can't do it.”

I just had to turn him down and I knowed that weren't quite agreeable in this country, a colored man have a job tied down and a white man turned away.

I told him, “Just aint no way in the world I can turn loose my job. I'm sorry for you, Mr. Culpepper, it's nothin in me against you, but it's nothin I can afford to take away from my family if I can help it. I can't do no more for you than feel your sympathy. I'm obliged to stay on my job.”

R
IGHT
at that particular time, I was haulin with as good a pair of mules as this country could afford. They wasn't as big as some mules, but big don't get it all the time; it's how they work and their attitude. I gived Mr. Grimes at the Apafalya mule pen one hundred and eighty-five dollars for that Mattie mule; and I gived Mr. Jeb Birch two hundred dollars for her mate—I called her Calley—and I made my figures this way on that mule. Mr. Birch lived right close to the gin house and I first asked him about that mule that fall when I was haulin cotton. I had thought it over and I was goin to try to buy the mule. I seed Mr. Birch hangin around the gin one day and I asked him, “Mr. Birch, you got a mule that I'd love to own, to match my mule that I already got”—I had two head of stock right at that time but one of em was a rented animal, young horse. I wanted another mule of my own, quit rentin stock.

He said, “Which one of my mules?”

One of em was a blocky mare mule and the other was this Calley mule, I knowed her good. Mr. Freeman North was the man that bought her out the drove and she was pretty tight and he couldn't handle her like he wanted to, so he sold her to Mr. Jeb Birch. I wanted the mule.

I said, “That Calley mule, that bay mule, that's the mule I want if money will buy her.”

He said, “O, that mule will cost you two hundred dollars.”

Well, I went on. I wasn't against givin that for the mule but I went on and studied over it. She was a nice match for Mattie—and that finally moved me to pay a little more for her than ever I paid before for a mule. It was my business to buy just as cheap as I could and work the mule to the greatest limit without injurin her.

I told my wife one day, “Darlin, I'm goin down to Mr. Birch's, see if I can buy that Calley mule from him my way. I got my limits fixed; if he'll come to my figures I'll buy that mule.”

I was pickin cotton at the time. Hitched Mattie to the buggy that evenin late and drove down to Mr. Birch's. He was livin on the Calusa road close to Tucker's crossin. I had a rope in the buggy to carry Calley back if he'd deal with me.

“Hello, Mr. Birch.”

“Hello, Nate.”

All these white folks knowed my voice; ever they messed with me a little bit they knowed my voice.

“Come out here, Mr. Birch, please, sir, I want to talk with you a little.”

Out he come.

“Well, what do you say, Nate?”

“Mr. Birch, I'm down here tonight—you know, you told me, we was talkin on that Calley mule of yours, and you told me it would take two hundred dollars to move her.”

Doggone good mule but she weren't as heavy a mule—she wouldn't a weighed but a thousand pounds, she'd make a clear thousand though.

He said, “Yes, that's what I said it'd cost you. She's one of the best ones. Take two hundred dollars to move her.”