At the time of the interview, Edna Boysaw had lived near Brazil for about sixty-five years—forty of these years on a small farm two miles east of Brazil on the Pinkley Street Road. Her husband had been dead for thirty-five years, and most of her twelve children had relocated to other places throughout the United States. Only her youngest son and the son of one of her daughters lived with her. Edna was not certain about her age, but thought she was around eighty-seven. She was very active and alert, though, as she still did her own housework and performed other chores about the farm.
Because of her long residence in the community, Edna was looked upon as one of Brazil’s pioneers. According to her many friends, including a number of prominent citizens of Brazil, she was very kind and intelligent, and her family was well liked and respected in the community. Edna was an active church worker and often was asked to speak at white churches as well as black churches. One of her daughters was a talented singer, and Edna appeared on many church programs with her. According to her obituary in the Brazil Daily Times (January 8, 1942), she died at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Frances Foulkes Gaines, in Chicago in 1942, but her body was returned to Brazil for burial in Cottage Hill Cemetery. Her obituary stresses that she was a very religious person:
When Mrs. Boysaw was a small slave girl she had a dream in which she had a vision that she would some day go from city to city, county to county and state to state spreading the gospel. As she had been doing this lately telling groups what a Christian life has meant for her, she said she felt this vision had been fulfilled. Part of her daily prayer for many years was, “Make my last days my best days and heaven my resting place.” She declared her last days were her happiest and her friends and neighbors are confident she has received her heavenly reward....
When in mature age she attended night school and learned to read. Her best tutor was Marie Knapp, then a little child living across the road. As Marie learned her letters and primary subjects she would sit on the porch with Mrs. Boysaw and teach her what she had learned that day in school. Mrs. Boysaw learned to write fairly well and to read. It was a happy day when she learned to read her Bible.
After coming to Brazil she organized a prayer band which met in her home and through this she established the First [Second] Baptist Church, which is active today at east Jackson and south Alabama streets.
Edna’s narrative, which follows, is one of the best in the Indiana collection:
When the Civil War ended, I was living near Richmond, Virginia. I am not sure just how old I was, but I was a big, flat-footed woman and had worked as a slave on a plantation. My master was a good one, but many of them were not. In a way, we were happy and contented, working from sunup to sundown. But when Lincoln freed us, we rejoiced, yet we knew we had to seek employment now and make our own way. Wages were low. You worked from morning until night for a dollar, but we didn’t complain. About 1870 a Mr. Masten, who was a coal operator, came to Richmond seeking laborers for his mines in Clay County. He told us that men could make four to five dollars a day working in the mines, going to work at seven and quitting at three-thirty each day. That sounded like a paradise to our menfolks. Big money, and you could get rich in little time! But he didn’t tell all because he wanted the menfolk to come with him to Indiana. Three or four hundred came with Mr. Masten. They were brought in boxcars. Mr. Masten paid their transportation, but was to keep it out of their wages. My husband was in that bunch, and the womenfolk stayed behind until their men could earn enough for their transportation to Indiana.
When they arrived about four miles east of Brazil, or what was known as Harmony, the train was stopped, and a crowd of white miners ordered them not to come any nearer Brazil. Then the trouble began. Our men didn’t know of the labor trouble, as they were not told of that part. Here they were, fifteen hundred miles from home, no money. It was terrible. Many walked back to Virginia. Some went on foot to Illinois. Mr. Masten took some of them south of Brazil about three miles, where he had a number of company houses, and they tried to work in his mine there. But many were shot at from the bushes and killed. Guards were placed about the mine by the owner, but still there was trouble all the time. The men didn’t make what Mr. Masten told them they could make; yet they had to stay, for they had no place to go. After about six months, my husband, who had been working in that mine, fell into the shaft and was injured. He was unable to work for over a year. I came with my two children to take care of him. We had only a little furniture, slept in what was called “box beds.” I walked to Brazil each morning and worked at whatever I could get to do. Often I did three washings a day and then walked home each evening, a distance of two miles, and got a dollar a day.
Many of the white folks I worked for were well-to-do, and often I would ask the mistress for small amounts of food, which they would throw out if left over from a meal. They didn’t know what a hard time we were having, but they told me to take home any of such food that I cared to. I was sure glad to get it, for it helped to feed our family. Often the white folks would give me other articles, which I appreciated. I managed in this way to get the children enough to eat, and later when my husband was able to work, we got along very well and were thankful. After the strike was settled, things were better. My husband was not afraid to go out after dark. But the coal operators didn’t treat the colored folks very good. We had to trade at the company store and often pay a big price for it. But I worked hard and am still alive today, while all the others are gone who lived around here about that time.
There has sure been a change in the country. The country was almost a wilderness, and where my home is today, there were very few roads, just what we called a pig path through the woods. We used lots of cornmeal, cooked beans, and raised all the food we could during them days. But we had many white friends and sure was thankful for them. Here I am, and still thankful for the many friends I have.