Lina
insisted on showing the small double locks that joined the side pieces
to the head and foot boards. These are rarely seen now. She was using
the original old wooden-framed wire fabric springs, and a straw
mattress. As she displayed the latter, she said, "Yes, Chile, I still
sleeps on my straw tick, 'cause dat's what I was raised on and dere
ain't nothin' sleeps as good as dat old tick when it's full of good
fresh wheat straw."

Lina's coffeepot on the charcoal bucket was steaming and the visitor
prepared to depart so that the old woman could enjoy her drink while it
was fresh and hot. Lina followed her to the veranda and said with much
enthusiasm, "God bless you, Lady. You sho is done made me happy, and
I'se gwine to pray for you evvy day and ask de Lord to take keer of you
all de time. I'se gwine to do dat, 'cause I wants you to come back and
let me sing some more of our good old songs for you sometime." After the
house was no longer in sight, Lina's high pitched voice could be heard
singing =My Old Mammy Died a-Shoutin'=.

[TR: Date stamp: MAY 8 1937]

SUBJECT: EMMA HURLEY OF WASHINGTON-WILKES

RESEARCH WORKER: MINNIE BRANHAM STONESTREET

EDITOR: JOHN N. BOOTH

SUPERVISOR: MISS VELMA BELL

DISTRICT: W.P.A. NO. I

DATE: MARCH 22, 1937

EMMA HURLEY OF WASHINGTON-WILKES

With snow white hair peeping from underneath a spotless "head rag" and
wearing a big white apron, Emma Hurley reminds one of the plantation
days of the long ago. She is eighty-odd years old, but does not know her
exact age. From all she remembers she is sure she was at least 7 or 8 at
the beginning of the war for she clearly recalls the talk of war and all
the excitement of those anxious days.

Unfortunately, Aunt Emma was born of parents belonging to a family that
bought and sold slaves as they did cattle and thought of them only in
terms of dollars and cents. The story she tells of her childhood would
make a Simon Legree turn pale with envy. She is not resentful, but is
honest in telling of those early years of her life, years of suffering
and great hardship.

Although she has never been to school, she uses very little dialect: "No
mam, honey, the folks I belonged to said it wouldn't do fer niggers to
learn out'n books; that schools warn't fer them. They said learnin'
would git us so they couldn't do nothin' wid us. After freedom I wuz
nussin' here in Washin'ton