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Transcript on deposit at The Southern Historical Collection, The Louis Round Wilson Library
Citation of this interview should be as follows:
“Interview H-0194-2, in
the Southern Oral History Program Collection #4007,
Southern Historical
Collection, The Wilson Library,
University of North Carolina at Chapel
Hill”
Thomas Burt's wide array of jobs in and around Durham, North Carolina, ranged from working on a streetcar line to farming. Although he worked for only eighteen months in a tobacco factory, most of this interview is devoted to his experiences there. His descriptions of the factory contain many interesting and valuable details, from the lunchboxes full of irregularly cut cigarettes he and his fellow workers brought home after their shifts, to the swirling clouds of tobacco dust that would settle under feet and eventually become snuff, to the spirituals and blues songs the workers sang to pass the time. This interview provides a rich look at the tobacco industry in Durham in the first half of the twentieth century, as well as a portrait of a colorful character.
Thomas Burt, a journeyman worker, recalls a variety of jobs he took in and around Durham, North Carolina, with a focus on his employment in a tobacco factory.
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
After I come twenty-one, I went to Durham. I stayed in Durham some before then. But I went back to the country on the farm and stayed on the farm till I come twenty-one. I messed around, quit the farming and went off to Durham.
The first job I got after I got in Durham, I went to work at the Bull
factory. I worked at the Bull factory, I reckon, six or eight months.
When I first went there and start to work, they put me down in the
shipping room where they put labels on the packs of cigarettes. I worked
down in there for a while. Then they wanted me to come up and help sweep
the floor every evening an hour or hour and a half before quittin'
time—sweep the floor so the floor would be clean the next morning. I
done that for a while, and it give me the worst cold. I just got to
coughin'. They all told me, if they'd me, they'd quit cause that's
dangerous goin' into TB. I quit and walked around town and messed around
town three or four weeks before I found another job. I was standing on
the street one morning, and Eulis Holloway—colored fellow I knowed
there—he come up from down where he was roomin' and come out there to
catch his way out to the brick yard. He asked me, "Boy, what you
doin'standin' here?" I said, "Well, I'm just standin' around. Maybe I
might luck up on a job." He says, "I believe I can get you a job." I
said, "Well, if you can, good." He said, "I believe I can get you a job
out there on the brick yard where I work." I said, "Well, if you do,
look out for me." He said, "I'll tell you,
The next job I got was drivin' wagons—old Squat's junk shop, haulin'
iron. I drove for them two years. The man where was runnin' the shop was
a police. Luther Byrd was his name. Everybody call him "Police Byrd." He
had a butler boy stayed round the house all the time; he raised hogs out
there where he lived, and had some horses. This boy just stayed out
there to keep the stables all clean. When we'd go in every evenin', he
be done fed and had water out there. We didn't have to do nothin' but
take them out. This boy what done that, home was in Winston-Salem. He
take sick and went home. Old man Luther then jumped at me to take his
job. I didn't want the job to start with, but they just worried me so
bad till I
I went up in Lebanon township and went to work sawmillin' with Will Markham and his brother Walter Markham—two brothers run the sawmill up there. I went up there and went to work with them. I went to turnin' logs. I stayed with them, I reckon, a year and a half or more. They went busted and quit millin', so I come back home again and worked a year or two on the farm with my daddy. Then I strayed off and went to workin' with old man Will Connally. I worked with him three or four years—sawmill. Finally, I quit him and went to old man Justin Keason. I worked with him till he got all messed up, and they sold him out. He just got so far in debt with the company down in Durham furnishing him horsefeed and someplace that he was gettin' all his equipment for the framing mill. He just got so deep in debt till they just busted him down.
I walked around a month or two, hangin' around Durham,
Finally, I come back home again and took over the farm. My daddy, he went out and worked about two years on the sawmill. I done the farmin' there at home. After he come back in and took over the farmin', I sold out to the railroad, got me a job on the railroad. I worked railroad work seven years straight. The first year I worked over at Gorman with that man. I left him and come on over here at Wilton and worked six years up there on that section. I quit that and went to Richmond. Got a job at the bridge on the railroad; I worked on the bridge eighteen months, probably longer than that. I put that down and got tired of that. That was too hard a work and dangerous too, workin' on the trestle, puttin' new seals under it. I got kind of scared of that job; it's kind of dangerous work. You're liable to slip and fall or somethin' and hurt yourself. My mother kept on beggin' me, say, "I'd quit that. That's dangerous." I thought about it and it was right dangerous, so I give up that job.
From that, I got married then, settled down and commenced farmin'. I
farmed for about fourteen years. My first wife, she died, then I worked
on the farm for
Did you at one point live in Durham with Pauline?
Me and Pauline, we went to Durham in 1945. Didn't stay in Durham but one year. We stayed at my brother's one year, then we left there and went to Mr. Roy Keith and stayed with him one year. He build him a new home over yonder and went in it. Then I went down to Mr. Wyatt Fuller's and farmed. I stayed down there four years. I come in and been here ever since; this year makes fifteen years I been here.
Why did you go to Durham in the first place?
I had some kinpeople over there. I went over there to stay with them; I just got tired of the country for a while and decided I'd go to Durham. I stayed over there with them. That's where I stayed all the time I's workin'.
All the time you were workin' in Durham, you stayed with your kinpeople?
Yeah, I stayed with my kinpeople when I stayed in Durham. They stayed right down below—you know where the coal shute was in Durham?—the coal shute weren't too far from the Regal Theater. I stayed right across the street from the coal shute. It wasn't nowhere from there out to East Durham where the brickyard was.
Were you stayin' in a house or was it apartments?
They had a house with about five or six rooms. I roomed there with them.
What was their name?
Her name was Kizzie Cheeks, Uncle Paul Cheeks' wife. Uncle Paul Cheeks married my aunt the first time. She died, then he married this woman next. I wasn't no relation to him or her; I was just relation to the children. His oldest children, my mother's sister was they mother, so that throwed us first cousins. I stayed down in the house with them. After Uncle Paul died, the widow kept on keepin' house. Didn't break up or nothin', so that's where I stayed.
That's when you were twenty-one years old?
I was about twenty-one, -two years old.
Were you in Durham during the war?
Yeah. World War I.
When the war started, where were you working?
When the war started, I was out here in the country. I hadn't been to
Durham when the war started. I went to Durham the time the war was goin'
on. I registered out here in the country up at Gorman's store. Then I
went to Durham. It was so long before they called me to be examined, I
done even forgot about I'd registered. Finally, they called me. I went
and was examined three different times. The first two times, they turned
me down. Then they called me back again to be examined the third time. I
went up there and was examined Sunday morning at 10:00. There was a
soldier doctor there that examined me that time. They got two of them, a
soldier doctor and another doctor that'd been there all the
time—civilian doctor. They run
Here's what happened. What made it so bad, I made South Carolina before I was twenty-one. I run away from home by the time I was sixteen, seventeen years old. I got up and run away from home and went to South Carolina. I had never given no tax or nothin'. Wasn't old enough—you didn't have to give your taxes till twenty-one years old. I got down there and them folks made me give them a tax. I told them, "I ain't old enough to give any tax." That man told me, "Yes you is. You got a grown man's face on you. You gonna have to give me the tax." That boy made me give him my tax down there. I was only about sixteen or seventeen years old. I hung around South Carolina for a while, and I said, "This is the wrong place." Soon as I got where I could get back this-away, I left that place. Them folks down there are crap! I ain't even work a lick while I was down there. I come away from down there.
Whereabouts were you in South Carolina?
Charleston. Those were the most curious talkin' folks! I don't know what
I went that-a-way for noway I just went the wrong direction. I got with
a girl down there. Her home was in Winston-Salem. She asked me what in
the world I wanted to come South for. She said she was leavin' there and
goin' home just as soon as she could get away from there.
Did you have your guitar with you then?
No, I didn't have my guitar with me. I left my guitar at home. I just got
up there one night and run away. Old man looked like he tried to work me
to death, and it looked like to me that I couldn't do nothin' to suit
him. I just got it in my head and slipped out the window one night; got
a few clothes and ran away from there. I wished I'd stayed on there. I
didn't like South Carolina. Them folks down there in South Carolina was
rough! Kickin' folks and beatin' them around, makin' them work for
nothin'. They weren't payin' them nothin' at that time. Wages was cheap
along then anyhow. They workin' them folks down there for nothin'. I
ain't been to South Carolina no more, nor aim to go no more
I had a pretty rough time gettin' up about twenty-five, thirty years old. I done some hard, hard work. I tell the old lady lots of times, I'm lucky to walk. I walked four miles for about eighteen months; eight miles a day I walked and sawmilled, workin' then ten hours a day. Me and a second cousin of mine, we'd get up in the mornin' and walk some four miles, work all day, and walk 'em back at night. I bet you can't guess what we'd get in a day.
How much?
Started at 75¢. I worked at 75¢ a day, then they
When you first moved out to Durham, were you lookin' to try and get more money than you were doin' out in the country.
No. I wasn't especially lookin' for no more money. You couldn't get no more in town than you could in the country. I just got it in my head to go to Durham and stay. I didn't make a bit more money there than I did out in the country.
How did you end up doin' any work at the Bull factory? Is there any reason you worked at that factory?
There was an openin' there. You got to get on a job where there's an openin' for you. A man quit or lay out or somethin' and they let him go, if they see you and you be lucky enough, you could get that man's job. So that's just the way I got on. Paul Horton got me on down there. He'd been workin' there for several years. I knowed him.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE A]
[START OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
Me and him run together a whole lot out here in the country before I went
to Durham. I got with him one Saturday night over there in North Durham.
He asked me where I been workin'. I told him I'd just been pickin' up
three or four hours work a day around there helpin' somebody with a yard
or somethin' like that. I said, "I ain't got no regular job." He said,
"Boy, I'll tell you somethin'. I believe I can get you on down there
where I work." I said, "All right, if you can, get me on." He said,
"I'll let you know somethin' in a day or two. I'll see what I can do." A
few days after that, he come by the house one night. The factory weren't
far from where I was roomin'. He said, "Boy, I believe I got you a job.
The man said to come in and he'd try you out. You ever worked in a
factory?" "No, man, I ain't never worked in no factory." He said, "The
man said to tell you to come in. He believed he could use you if you
could catch on to the work." I went on down there to the gate when he
come in. The gate didn't open till exactly 7:00. The whistle blow, and
that gate was opened. It stayed open
They put me down in the shippin' room. That's where I started off at
packin' up cigarettes. Them cigarettes come down, some of them long as
that chair. They had a machine. Them cigarettes go up there and that
knife cut them. That thing raised up and clip them. They'd go on down
and some folks puttin' them in the packs. They'd go up yonder, turn and
come back, and men was puttin' labels on them. My job was to have a
place long as across this house—little shelves—I had to put them
cigarettes where they belonged, different packs. They'd pack them up,
and a man standin' there cartonin' them up, so many to a
They put me to sweepin'. I told the man I'd have to quit that cause I had
a cold. This Paul, he run the elevator for three stories, four with the
basement. He put me up there with Paul. He say, "You work here with
Paul." We had to carry different stuff from the first floor to the
second one on up. Sometimes we had to go up to the top floor. One Friday
morning, I felt funny. I felt curious all night that night. I couldn't
half sleep. I told Miss Kizzie, "I ain't half slept last night. I'm
feelin' kind of funny. I coughin'." She said, "Yes, I noticed you
coughed all night. You better do something for that cough." I said,
"I'll tell you what I'm goin' do, I'm goin' to quit that factory." She
said, "Are you still sweepin'?" I said, "No. They put me on the
elevator." She said, "That's dangerous ain't it?" I said, "I don't know.
Paul been runnin' it for four or five years. Ain't nothin' ever happened
to him." Went on down there that mornin', went up to the third floor
three times that mornin' carryin' stuff up there. The next time I had to
go up, I had somethin' for the second floor and the third floor. Got up
there to the second floor and took that off, packed it on the truck. He
said, "Thomas, tell you what you do. You truck this on back yonder and
put it where it belongs and I'll go on up to the third floor and unload
this and put it where it belong. We'll kill two birds with one shot." So
I took the truck and went all round there to where it supposed to go.
After a
You were right smart lucky.
Yes sir. If I hadn't got off at the second floor, I'd been on there. I'd gone on up to the top with him like I been doin'. I don't know why he speak. He said, "Thomas, you carry this on yonder and unload it while I go up and take this off up yonder up on the second floor." I said, "All right." I went on round there, and just about time I got about half of that stuff off of that truck, I heard that thing when it started. Whoom! It scared me so bad. I run down the step; I seed it. It wasn't closed in like the elevators is now. It was just a open place. I seed that thing pass and it was just like a bullet goin' down. He was hollerin', "Help me! Help me!" I heard him say it twice before it hit down there. "Help me!" he said, "Help me!" He couldn't get off it the way it was goin'. Lordy, Lord, I hate that thing so bad, I didn't know what in the world to do.
I went on out there to the brickyard and seed another man get killed. We
had a scaffold where we load these things and push them. The scaffold
didn't go right straight up; it went kind of curved until you got up
there where you dump that mud over in that hopper. I was goin' on up
there, three boys in front of me. Goin' along up there, the front boy
pushin' that thing. I don't know what happened. When I looked, all I
seed was his heels. He turned that thing up sideways—they had a lever on
the side—pulled that lever up, take one hand and turn the body over. I
don't know what happened to the boy. I looked and seed his heels fly up
in the air, and he went over in that hopper with all that
Could you explain a little more about what you were doin' in the factory when you first started there? About how you were takin' up the cigarettes?
The cigarettes come up here just like this at a little old trough about this wide.
About six inches wide.
They used that machine come right on up there. They had another machine
settin' up there. Them cigarettes
Was it a machine that was packing them?
Yeah, a machine puttin' them in the packs. Then somebody put the label on and seal them up. They'd go up there and turn right around and come on back down to a great big table—big old wide table. They'd fall on that table, then you took them up. They had little shelves just wide enough to put a cigarette pack in. You just keep puttin' them in there, different ones.
Was there different types of packages coming down?
There used to be a cigarette they called "Solomon" cigarettes, "PV" cigarettes. I done forgot the name of all them different cigarettes. They'd put them in different packs with different labels on them. You just pack them up in different places.
So you would pack
All I had to do was sort them out and start a rack of one kind and keep
that rack goin', start a rack of another one… I reckon it was about
three and one-half foot long. All them fell on the floor, you'd get all
you wanted. You'd pick them up, they wouldn't say a word to you. You had
a lunch bucket, you could fill that box full and they wouldn't say a
word. The rest of them, they'd sweep them
Who would?
The bossman. They put that rum in the chewin' tobacco, and he had it
there in barrels. It was good to drink! They'd give you a whole quart of
it every night, to them that drinked. It didn't cost nary a dime. You'd
go by there and if the man had some, they'd give you a quart. It drank
near about as good as wine! They put that in tobacco and cigars. I come
home and told my mother, "Momma, let me tell you what's so. If you could
see what they do when they make snuff, you wouldn't never dip no more
stuff. They hark and spit in that mess, walk all in it with their feet.
You would never dip another dip."
I didn't know that.
Yeah, they take the stems out of the tobacco—that tobacco was stemmed.
They'd make cigarettes and chewing tobacco out of the leaves, and they
had a machine over there to grind that up and make snuff. Yeah, I'm
tellin' you the truth. They'd make sweet snuff—liquid, some of it would
be sweet snuff. That strong snuff, they had some different kind of
liquids to put in that. It was all the same dust, but they just put the
different flavors in it.
Pauline used to work in the factory. She could tell you about it. Pauline worked in a factory at Oxford a long time. It's some sort of work goin' in a tobacco factory.
When you first started off there how much money were you making?
$1.25 a day, ten hours, paid off every two weeks.
How many days did you work?
Work everyday but the payday. Worked from Monday morning till Saturday night, this week. Next week, pay week, you work from Monday morning till Saturday at 12:00—pay off Saturday at dinner. Then if you wanted to work, you could work on till 4:00 and knock off at 4:00. A whole lot of the boys would get paid off and work straight on till 4:00, but that was on the next payday. That was what you say extra. You didn't get paid for that that same Saturday, but you get it on your next pay check. There weren't no jobs then paying off every Friday and Saturday like they do now. You be paid off every two weeks about everywhere you worked. Some places weren't payin' you but once a month—sawmill.
What about when you got transferred to Were you making the same amount of money?
Yeah, I was makin' the same amount of money. That's what they started me off at—$1.25. When I left, that's all they payin'. They might have been payin' some of them men that was operatin' them machines a little more. But ordinary worker, that's all everybody was gettin'—$1.25 a day.
When you were sweepin' floors, what floor were you workin' on then?
I was workin' on the first floor. That's where all the action was, down
there on the bottom floor. That's where they doin' all this stemmin'
tobacco, and shakin' tobacco. You had to shake that tobacco down there
on the
When did you shake it?
They kept somebody shakin' it all the time. That was some of the jobs went on all the time. They had women doin' nothin' but stemmin' tobacco.
Would you shake it before you stemmed it?
Yeah. That tobacco was in good order when it come in. They would come in
there and they'd hang it and put in some place up there. It'd come out,
they'd take it off the sticks, stem it, it went on up to the trough and
it went on up yonder. You see that tobacco goin' on up there after they
done stemmed it. Next time you see it, it was in a cigarette or chewin'
tobacco or whatever they's gonna make out of it. It go on up yonder and
come down in a great big hopper. That thing was goin' around all the
time grindin' that tobacco up. It siftin' out there, and they'd—I can't
hardly tell you how that thing worked. I never had time to see it work
much, puttin' that tobacco in that paper. That paper was layin' open,
spread it out in the place. They'd put that tobacco in that paper. Some
of them'd be as long as that door yonder go by. When they get so many,
then they'd put it in a trough. It was a thing kind of like that, and it
would run right up against that thing. That machine was right busy
clippin' it. Sometimes some of it would go by. That's what made them
long ones. You'd clip them and some of them were that long. They'd fall
on the floor, and that's what we'd pick up when we
When you talked about the first floor in the factory, you said before they did any pulling off sticks and the hanging, it was in good order. Would the tobacco come in in
No, it come in in baskets. The tobacco come from the warehouse, it's in baskets. Then they hung it on sticks after it got to the factory.
[END OF TAPE 1, SIDE B]
[START OF TAPE 2, SIDE A]
It was bundled up?
Yeah, tied up in bundles. It come to the factory just like it left the warehouse. They'd bring it in there in big truckloads. There's a place out there where they'd unload them trucks and baskets. It come from the warehouse when it come to the factory. They had folks back there hangin' tobacco after they bring it in there. I never could understand that. They had to hang it to put it in that dry kiln, or whatever they call it. It was somethin' to see.
After it was dry somebody untied them all?
Yeah, cut them heads loose. Big trough there, you'd take it and dump it
over there, and somebody clippin' the heads loose. Then they'd shake it
out, somebody'd stem it, pull the whole stem out. Had a place to put the
stems in one place over there in a pile. The leaves, they'd pack that in
a big, deep trough. They were right busy goin' up. Left the bottom floor
and went on up to the second floor where the machines was—all but this
one that was down there clippin' the cigarettes. That great big hopper,
it was down next to the bottom floor. The shippin' room was down in the
basement, but you could see that big hopper right back there in the
corner. They had a trough comin' out, and that tobacco's right busy
runnin' out somewhere. I don't know where it went. The next time you see
it, it'd rolled up. I don't know how it rolled it. It'd rolled up and
them
When you were sweeping, you were sweeping on the first floor. You were sweeping where the folks were shaking the tobacco?
Yeah, I just had a section to sweep. Just three or four sweepin'. I didn't sweep the whole factory. I had a part I swept, and another man a part he swept.
What did you do … ?
Run it over. You didn't sweep that outdoors, you just swept it in a pile
over there in the corner, and they'd run that stuff over again.
Sometimes, it's whole leaves, half of leaves, and tobacco trash. That's
all it was. Course there was dirt in it, but I reckon that machine got
the dirt out. You just sweep it over in the corner in a great big pile
of tobacco. They had a big fork—they kept it piled up out your way—you'd
sweep so much and then you take that fork and throw it up. Sometimes
that pile'd be as high as this house. That dust! I'd sneeze and cough,
your eyes'd burnin'. I had to wear me some of them big
Was it that dusty for most of the people working on that floor?
No. For one thing, after so long a time, they got to sprinklin' that floor. Folks just couldn't stand it. After a while, they'd just go over that whole floor. The section I worked in, the section everybody worked in, they'd sprinkle it a little bit to kind of settle that dust. All of them talkin' about quittin'. If they hadn't done that, I don't think they would have had no floor sweepers if it hadn't stopped.
How did they sprinkle it?
With a sprinklin' pot. They'd fill that thing full of water. It had a cap that screwed on the end of it; they'd go along, carry it in their hand. That thing just foggin' water. That's a dusty, dusty, dusty place.
I liked it after I got caught onto down in the shippin' room. That
weren't so hard. That was easy work; only thing, you had to keep your
mind on what you're doin' or you'd get the cigarettes mixed up. That's
kind of a tedious job, but it weren't hard. I'd stack up them things as
high as them pictures up yonder (about six feet). I'd start at the
bottom and pack up a rack and just keep on packin'. Them folks over on
the other side of us, they was the ones puttin' the labels on them,
cappin' them up, and packin' them up in
In the shipping room, were most of the folks working there black folks?
About all of them; there was three or four white boys down there. There weren't no womens in that part. Weren't no one down there but men. The women was on the first floor and the second floor. The top floor was the place where they put the stuff that was ordered and shipped in there. All the machines was on the second floor. The top floor was the storage room up there. They had another big storage room out there where they put tobacco. They'd unload that tobacco out yonder in that other big one, and bring it in as they used it. They didn't put a whole load of tobacco in there at one time. They had trucks and runways, and they'd go out there and bring that different tobacco in there.
On the second floor, you said there was mostly women there?
Yeah, mostly women on the second floor.
Was it women running the machines?
Some of them, yeah. There was two or three women runnin' the machines.
Were they white or black?
Some black. There weren't no white women runnin' them machines. In other
words, there weren't too many white women in there, nothing but
secretaries, bookkeepers, and stuff like that. Most of the folks
What about white men? What did most white men do?
There's a bunch of white men workin'. Some of them was operatin' them machines. Most of them were operatin' the machines.
Were they different machines from what the women were operating?
Yeah, some of them was. They had a machine to fix tobacco for cigarettes, they had a machine to fix tobacco for cigars, and they had one for chewin' tobacco. All the machines where was runnin' operating for cigarettes, that was all the same tobacco; there was no difference in that. All the tobacco come through there was just cigarette tobacco. Them other machines over there was makin' different cigars. Then they had another machine over there to grind up these stems I was tellin' you about for snuff. A whole lot of colored women runnin' them machines; they done been there long enough to know how to operate them machines. I didn't never fool with none of them.
One thing someone mentioned to me—a woman; she used to work in one of the factories—she said that sometimes the women used to get to singing while they were working.
Oh yeah, you could hear that all over the factory.
Could you?
Man, them women get to workin' up there sometimes,
Did they sing during the day? Would they sing all the time?
No, they didn't sing all the time. Sometimes you couldn't hear nobody singin' at all, and then again, it looked like to be everybody singin'. Somebody'd start a song the rest of them knowed, and they singin' all over the factory.
Was somebody singing some every day?
Everyday, near about every day, mostly in the evenin'. After 1:00, they'd
go back to work. Long over in the evenin' they'd start singin', and
they'd sing from then to near about quittin' time, one song after
another. The time looked like we just slipped away. It didn't look like
it was long, and we makin' ten hours too. It didn't seem long—all that
good singin', all that machines goin', different things goin' there.
Looked like to me the time just eased right on away, 12:00 come before
you know it. Sometimes that bull would open his mouth and bellow—it
would scare you! You didn't even know it was 12:00! That big rascal
could open his mouth. That was the whistle;
Where was that at? Was that right on the roof of the factory?
No, that was down across the railroad track, down where Sears and Roebuck used to be. It used to be right on down there across the railroad. At that time, it weren't many houses back down there in Haiti then like it is now, just a house here and yonder. They had a great big place where that factory was, two or three acres of ground, I reckon, that place covered. Weren't no houses; you'd just see a house here and yonder. It's wooods about like it is out yonder. I know when I bet it weren't a hundred houses in Durham, in places. Near about like the country.
I know when they built the first warehouse in Durham—the first tobacco warehouse built in Durham, I remember.
Which one was that?
The Big Four.
Where was it at?
Up on the hill—you know where the Roycroft's warehouse is—pass them goin' uptown to the next corner, that block right in there. I believe there's a parkin' lot there now.
There's a parking lot and there's a tire place.
That's right. Right there there used to be a warehouse called the Big Four Warehouse. That's the first warehouse that was built in Durham.
How old were you then, do you remember?
I was about thirteen, fourteen years old.
Before then, where would they have the auctions at?
They had a place where they called—down there next to the factory—called the Co-op place where they carried tobacco, sold it.
When they started building the warehouses, that was a big change.
Oh yeah. They built that one, and they commenced buildin' till they got what they got there now. Old man Henry Roycroft, he build one down in the bottom. Old man Cozart, he was runnin' that one up there on the corner I was tellin' you about. His caught a-fire and burnt up, then he went down in the bottom and build one right across from in front of Old man Roycroft. Then them others on up the hill there that weren't in the bottom, the Tally boys, they built one up there. Then the Roycroft build another one up there; they called it Little Star. Then they build another one right straight across from this one where got burnt down up there on the corner—one on that side and one on the left hand side goin' up—called that the Banner. Then they commenced buildin' these out here on the outside of town. There was some warehouses out here on Old Oxford Highway.
You were talking about the factory and the singing, did the men ever join in the singing?
Oh yeah, some of the men was up there with them.
What about down on the first floor, on the basement?
You didn't hardly ever hear much singin' down there 'cause weren't too many men down in the basement. On the first floor, you could hear them up there singing' sometimes, and whoopin' and hollerin' and singin'.
Did they ever sing anyting other than spirituals?
Oh yeah, some of them were singin' Blues, I mean reels. There weren't no Blues songs come out at that time. Some sort of old reel, they'd sing. Some of them sang good songs, hymns, some of these old-timey reels where folks used to sing way back. There weren't too much singin' goin' on down there. You's too busy down there do much singin'. I tell you, that was a tedious job down there in that shippin' room. You had to keep your mind on what you do in', you don't, you'd mess up somethin' down there. So, you didn't have time to do too much down there but keep your mind on what you doin'.
What about when you got off for lunch? Did you used to eat lunch together right around there?
Oh yeah, everybody'd eat right down there in the factory, all them that weren't close enough to go home. A whole lot of people didn't live too far from the factory; they'd go home to lunch. As far as I lived, I always carried mine. Whole lot of them carried their lunch, eat it right there in the factory.
You had an hour for lunch?
Hour, that's all. One hour.
Was there ever any singing or carrying on at that time?
No! You didn't hear much singin' at lunch hour. Folks sittin' round eatin', some of them stretch out and get a little short nap. Some of them be sleep when the whistle blow. No, they just sit around, laugh, and talk, time to go back to work. No, weren't much carryin' on at lunch hour. Everybody's kinda tired and jaded. Some of them, soon as they swallowed, they stretch out on a basket or somewhere and go to sleep.
How long did you work total in the Bull factory?
I reckon seventeen, eighteen months in all.
END OF INTERVIEW