War Games

When we were children, my siblings and I played “war” behind our great-grandparents home in Jasper County, Texas. We would throw dirts bombs, aim sticks as rifles, and the washed out ditches were the trenches where we sheltered from our enemies. We never thought that real troops might have marched over our playground. 

In his own words, Will Shelby (1850-1940), tell of his experiences during slavery, what he witnessed after the Civil War, and his life following the war. His narrative is a snapshot of the lives of my ancestors in the community where I was raised. 

What a history lesson about where we lived!

Texas Slave Narrative

 Will Shelby 

Will Shelby , of Peach Tree, is a slender negro about five feet and eight inches in height. He has thin features, bronze complexion, short whiskers, and a pleasant countenance. He rides horseback seven miles to town, which is proof of his activity for his eighty-six years. He seems to have character, and to have led a good, worth-while life.

My name's Will Shelby . I libs in the Peach Tree section, seben mile' nor'-wes' of Jasper. I was bo'n in Jasper eighty-six year' 'go las' October. My fadder's name was Peter Shelby , and he come from Arkansas. My mudder' name, Phillis Shelby and she part Injun. Us marster, Alfred Shelby , he hab big plantation at Peach Tree. He kep' only 'bout six or seben slaves, and was 'bout 's good to us 's mos' marsters. Marster funrnish' us wid shoes in the winter, but he fam'ly didn' b'long to no chu'ch and didn' read the Bible to us, or he'p us la'rn to read and write. Our mistess name was Lindy Shelby . Dey hab fo' or five chillen. Dey ol'es' son went to the war and git sho froo (through) de jaw, and git sont home. Atter so long a time, he git well. Bout the close of the war, t'ousands of sojers pass' the place goin' back Norf. Dey was t'ree or mo' day' passin' and us couldn' git no milk durin' dat time. Eb'ry time us go to milk, dey'd tek the milk and drink it befo' us could git to the house wid it. My gran'paren's come from Memphis, Tennessee. Dey was slaves all dey life'. My brudders name' was Clark , John , Henry and Ambrose . My sister' name' was Sally , Jane , Pet and Daffy . Us marster whip' us a-plenty. Iffen one run 'way, he sot the dogs on 'im, den dey brung 'im back and beat 'im up. I see us neighbors runnin' dey slaves wid dogs, and whippin' 'em 'til dey was plum' bloody. We uster git a pass and go to chu'ch at Peach Tree w'en we's slaves. Rev. Neeley , a Mef'dis' was my fav'rit preacher. He was de fust preacher w'at open up the cullud chu'ch dere of 'bout a hunnerd members. W'en us was freed, us move on Mistah Pickle's fa'm, and I's jes' fa'm mos' all my life. W'en I's 'bout nineteen, I marry Gracie Hadnot . I wo' a black suit and she wo' w'ite dress. Rev. Gilbert , another Mef'dis' preacher, marry us. Us hab 'leben chillen, but mos' of dem dead no'. My wife die' twenty-five year' 'go. I libs all by myse'f 'cept for my blin' daughter, w'at was bo'n blin', and she now sixty-five year' ol'. I gits 'leben dollars pension. Dey give her pension at fust, den dey stop' it. Don' know w'at for dey stop' it. She stay all by herse'f w'en I's gone. In winter, she allus stay in bed 'til I gits back, 'cause she skeert she bu'n the house, or bu'n up herse'f. I owns twenty-five acre farm, but I's got po' house, w'at I hopes to 'pair dis nix' fall. I rents my lan' out w'en I kin. W'en we fust uster come to Jasper, dar was only two sto's in the town. Ol' doctor W'ite he kep' a hotel close to w'er the Cit'zens Bank am now. W'en the war start' us didn' hab a mill or shingle in Jasper. Dey spin and weave all dey clo's. In the early day, us allus walk' de seben mile' to town. Us hab ox teams but us rather walk dan drive dem. Jes' atter freedom come, the sojers come and ax marster if he hab tu'n' he slaves loose. He tell dem dat he hab. 'Well'dey say, dey is jes' 's free 's you is now, and kin go and wuk w'er dey please. We sho' got 'nuf whippin' in dem days. Marster whip' the ol' folks, and mudder whip' us youngsters. Us uster hunt and fish w'en us hab time, and git fish, rabbits, 'possum, 'coon, squirrel, wild tukkey, deer, and I track' and see one or two bear, but never git 'em. I never see a ghos' or w'at look like one in all my life. Some of us neighbors' slaves run 'way and go down in ol' man Smith ' fiel' and mek a camp in a under-groun' tunnel. Dey hab cans, skillets, and all sich to cook wid. Me and another fin' dere camp w'ile us was fishin' one day, but co'se, us wouldn' tell on 'em. I's jes' stay 'roun' Jasper and fa'm all the time. I ain't been fifty mile' from home in all my life.

Eular Armstrong Jones

Eular Armstrongs 

1913-1990

When Eular Armstrong was born on September 15, 1913, in Nevada County, Arkansas her mother, Hattie Armstrong, was 21 years old. GEular married Henry B. Jones on September 4, 1943, in Nevada, Arkansas. They had five children (four sons and one daughter) during their marriage. She died on October 27, 1990 in Rosston, Arkansas at the age of 77, and was buried in Nevada County, Arkansas.

Eular is a descendant of the Ely Armstrong branch of our family tree. Ely was one of the five siblings born during the 1820s to Dennis Armstrong (born 1790), an enslaved man owned by John Everett Armstrong’s family in Wilcox County, Alabama. 

Linda Sue Jones Peevy

Ella Mae’s Sad Beginning

Ella Mae Cauley (4th cousin) was born March 16, 1932. When she was born, her mother, Gladys Land (3rd cousin 1x removed), was 20 years old. Her father, Rube Cauley, was 23 years old. Ella Mae was their first born. 

In April 1934 Gladys gave birth to a baby boy. Sadly, however, the baby passed away from asphyxia within 24 hours of his birth. This might have been the first tragic event in two year old Emma’s life, but it wouldn’t be the last. Less than 18 months later Ella’s mother, Gladys, would be murdered in their South Quarters home. The killer? Rube. 

Rube Cauley killed his wife inside their home with an axe. Maybe it was the realization and guilt of what he had done, but soon after Gladys was killed Rube drank lye and he too was dead. 

Three year old Ella Mae was left without either parent. She was taken in and raised by her grandparents, Glibert Land, Jr. (1st cousin 3x removed) and Adrilla Traylor Land (2nd cousin 2x removed). As a young adult, Ella Mae moved to Detroit, Michigan where she lived near members of the Land family. She soon married a man named Womack. Until her death in 2020, Ella lived in and around the Detroit area. Ella Mae Cauley Womack was 88 years old.

 Charles Bennie “C. B.” Redd

Charles Bennie “C. B.” Redd (1913-1982) was born in the Roganville community in Jasper County, Texas. His father, Charles Redd, Sr., was the son Charlotte Bryant. His mother, Bettie Bryant, was a from the same Bryant family.

Charles Redd was an educator, but education was not just a career for C. B., it was a way of life. He received his bachelor’s degree from Huston Tilotson College and a master’s degree from Texas Southern University. He also studied at New York University and North Texas State University. He was affectionately known as “Professor Redd”. 

During his 44 years as an educator, Professor Redd taught at Bishop and Butler Colleges. Most of his career as an educator, however, was served in Texas public schools including schools in Texas City, Lamar, and Longview. Denton ISD was where he spent the last 29 years as a school administrator. While in Longview Professor Redd was the principal at Fredonia Colored School, a Rosenwald school located in the Fredonia freedom colony near Kilgore, Texas. Longview is where he met and married his wife, Estella Timms (also a teacher in Kilgore and Denton), and where their son, Charles Redd, Jr. was born. 

C. B. Was a member of many social and civic organizations that included Omega Psi Phi fraternity, High Noon Lions Club, Masons Lodge, Texas Secondary Principals Association, and Boy Scouts of America. He was also a licensed real estate broker. 

On May 18, 1982, while in Palestine, Texas on personal business, 68 year old Charles Bennie Redd was found slumped over the steering wheel of his parked car. He was thought to have died of natural causes. Charles B. Redd, Sr. is buried in Roselawn Memorial Park, Denton, Texas. 

Albert Merrill,The Ageless Negro Bronco Buster

Albert Merrill was born in 1880 in Travis County near Austin, Texas. His family farmed, worked on ranches, and

Albert Merrill 
1880-1965

picked cotton. When Albert was a boy his job was to hold the reins while the White ranchers mounted their horses. By the age of 15 he found that he was good with horses. Really good. That is where his career as a bronco buster began. Even though he was only a little over 5 feet 7 inches tall, Albert Merrill became a bigger than life bronco buster. For 75 years Albert traveled from ranch to ranch in west and central Texas, east Texas, Louisiana, and Oklahoma.

Newspapers.com

He even spent a long stretch of time in Tampico, Mexico where he became fluent in Spanish. Albert Merrill was highly sought after by ranchers to ride the most difficult horses that no one else could break. He continued to ride and break horses into his seventies. A San Angelo newspaper referred to him as “the ageless Negro bronco buster”. Of course he was thrown a lot, but he only had fractures twice in his long career. The last fracture was to his leg. Even though it left him with a limp, Albert continued to ride. 

Albert, Mary, and their seven children
(Photo from Ancestry.com)

Albert married in 1904 to Mary Robison. They made San Angelo, Texas their home and there they raised six daughters and one son. In 1964 Albert and Mary celebrated 60 years of marriage. Albert died the next year at the age of eighty five. He is buried at Fairmount Cemetery in San Angelo, Tom Green County, Texas. 

Mother to Son

 by Langston Hughes

Well, son, I tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair. 

Jane Shelby 
1864-1954

It had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—Bare.

Unknown Location in Jasper County, Texas
Photo by Alonzo Jordan 

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

Unknown Children
Photo by Alonzo Jordan 

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

Louisa Jordan Wife of Isaac “Ike” Limbrick 
1846-1939

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

 Dinner On The Ground

There is nothing more southern than dinner-on-the-ground. These potluck get togethers were held yearly and were usually a part of the church homecoming celebration. Family and friends returned home from faraway places to join the festivities. It was a special occasion; a feast for the soul and the stomach. 

As a child in Southeast Texas, I grew up with dinner-on-the-ground at Dixie Missionary Baptist Church in the Dixie Community of rural Jasper County. Every year, the families whose ancestors had been a part of the church for decades gathered in the church for a sermon and singing. After the service, we poured out of the church and gathered under the surrounding shade trees. Permanent wood tables, built from scraps of lumber and often held up by sawhorses, were laden with a feast that would feed the entire community. Almost any southern dish you could name was likely to be found: Fried chicken, ham, chicken and dumplings, black eyed peas, turnip greens, potato salad, green beans, cornbread dressing, and more. But we all couldn’t wait to get to the dessert table: Pound cake, peach and blackberry cobbler, pecan pie, banana pudding, sweet potato pie, and jelly cake to name a few. And at the end of the last table were jugs of sweet tea wash it all down. 

Dinner-on-the-ground isn’t what it used to be. The fellowship is still there and families still gather, but most meals are served inside air conditioned church activity centers. The food is different as well. There are more store bought and restaurant prepared items. Nothing can replace those old fashioned outdoor dinner-on-the-ground homecomings. 

Some Memories Never Fade

In 1967 I was twelve years old sitting in a classroom at George Washington Carver Elementary School in Jasper County, Texas. We heard the sirens and within a few minutes our teacher, Mr. John Henry Mitchell, was beckoned to the door. We couldn’t hear what was being said, but Mr Mitchell’s facial expression told us it was something serious. He returned to the room and stood before the class and said “The church is on fire”. The room was still and quiet. We didn’t have to ask which church. 

Dixie Missionary Baptist Church was a fixture in the community, the county, and the southeast Texas area. Almost all of the students and faculty of  G. W. Carver were members there. My own family legacy began there. The church’s founder, Richard Seale, was my maternal third great grandfather. I was baptized there, attended church and Sunday school there, went to family funeral services there, and socialized and felt a family closeness there.

Sometimes people ask if you remember where you were when certain events occurred. I just say some memories never fade. This is one of them. 

Miss Millie’s Fried Fish 

I smile when I see this picture of my granddaughter. She was only eight years old,  but she chose to order the whole fried catfish when we took her out to dinner. I was reminded of a funny experience my sister and I had when we were about her age. 

 

When I was a kid, my sister and I rode along with our grandaunt, Eva, when she ran her errands. Sometimes we made stops along the way to check on elderly relatives, visited church folks, or just to say hello to people sitting on their front porches. My sister and I weren’t too keen on these inadvertently stops. We were only interested in whatever destination Auntie had originally set out for. As I reminisce, I now see those out of the way stops were little life lessons. 

One of my favorite memories is a visit to Miss Millie’s house. She and her husband were an older couple who lived alone at the time. Their house was small and dark, but it was spotless and inviting. Auntie sat and chatted with them while my sister and I went outside to play in the clean swept, grassless yard. I don’t remember what we played, but we probably found sticks and drew pictures in the dirt. Or maybe we drew a hopscotch and made a game of that. The smooth, hard packed ground was perfect for drawing. Soon, however, Ms Millie called us inside. The aroma of fried fish greeted us. Miss Millie handed us each a small plate with a tiny fried fish; head, tail, and scales still attached. The appetizing aroma vanished as we stared at the tiny creature and it seemed to stare back at us. Recognizing our hesitation, Auntie reminded us to say “thank you”. We could tell she expected us to be gracious and eat what we were being served. So, as not disobey Auntie or insult Miss Millie’s generosity, we painstakingly ate the fish while trying to avoid the scales and the eyes that stared at us. 

I know now the lesson I was being taught; When someone offers you the only thing they have to offer, be gracious, kind, and accepting. Miss Millie was sharing what she had.  Maybe all she had. When people who have little else to share they share their food. Food is more than just sustenance. In this case it was an expression of caring.

Thank you Miss Millie for teaching me that being a gracious recipient is a gift you give to the giver. 

Timothy 4:4

For everything God created is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving

The Voices of My Ancestors 

The first time I read slave narratives from the Federal Writers’ Project I could almost hear the voices of my ancestors. I felt their presence. Their pain, their fears, their joys leapt from my computer screen. I immediately began to search for recognizable names and places. The three obvious ones were the brother of my paternal great grandfather. 

Emanuel and Washington Armstrong were the brothers of my paternal great-grandfather. Nora was the sister of my paternal great-grandmother. They narrated, in their own words, their lives as enslaved people.

Emanuel "Manuel" Armstrong was born in January 1858 in Jasper, Texas to Zilpah Hadnot and Jackson Armstrong. He married Tempy Byerly and they had eight children together. Tempy died in 1895. Manuel later married Nora Ferrell Brumley in 1897. They had two children together. Manuel died on April 8, 1941, in Jasper, Texas, at the age of 83. He is buried in Hadnot Cemetery in Jasper County, Texas.

Washington "Wash" Armstrong was born enslaved to Zilpah Hadnot and Jackson Armstrong on April 5, 1860 in Cherokee County, Texas. As a young man, he had two daughters, one with Angie Grant and another with Effie Mitchell. Wash later married Lula Seale and together they had nine children. Wash died on September 18, 1942, in Jasper County, Texas, at the age of 82, and was buried in Hadnot Cemetery in Jasper County.

More narratives

Born in Slavery: These narratives were collected in the 1930s as part of the Federal Writers' Project (FWP) of the Works Progress Administration, later renamed Work Projects Administration (WPA).

Lucky Limbrick

Lucky Limbrick
1910-1957

Lucky Limbrick was born on March 18, 1910 in Jasper County, Texas. His father, Doucette Limbrick, was 25 and his mother, Maggie Frazier, was 20. In 1927 he had one daughter, Grander Lee Limbrick, with Sarah Byerly. Three years later, in 1930, Lucky’s son, Willie Luckie Limbrick, was born to Helen Armstrong. Lucky and Helen were married shortly after the birth of their son. There are no records of how long the marriage lasted. Lucky later married Elnora Johnson on May 13, 1937 in Harris County, Texas. 

In 1932 Lucky lived in at 2811 Anita Avenue in Houston, Texas. He worked at Sears and Roebuck as an attendant changing tires. In 1937 Lucky lived at 3404 Bmaunue in Houston and worked for Hiresch Brothers as a porter (custodian). Lucky registered for the draft on October 16, 1940. At the time he was six feet two inches tall and weighed 178 pounds.

 

             U.S. WWII Draft Cards Young Men

His complexion was listed as light brown, eyes brown, and hair brown. His wife, Elnora Limbrick, was listed as next of kin. His address was 1219 Hill Street, Houston, Texas and his employer was Earl North Buick Company. 

In 1958 Lucky was living with his sister, Jeanette, in Los Angeles, California at 1368 East 48th Street and was a registered Democrat voter.

Lucky Limbrick died on his birthday, March 18, 1957, in Los Angeles, California, at the age of 47. He is buried in Evergreen Cemetery in Los Angeles, California. 

Evergreen Cemetery
Los Angeles, California 

Doucette Limbrick 
Father of Lucky Limbrick