George Morrison, called Uncle George by his neighbors, came to Indiana from Uniontown, Kentucky, and was living at 25 East 5th Street in New Albany when he was interviewed on separate occasions by two fieldworkers. George would not allow the female fieldworkers in his house, though, unless they were accompanied by a man. He said, “It just ain’t the proper thing to do.”
In his interview with Beulah Van Meter, George offered some information about popular entertainments. He said that the square dance was not popular in towns, but like the play party it was a great source of amusement in the country. At sundown in the summer and after dark in winter, whole families rode in wagons or buggies, set out on horseback, or walked to the house where the square dance was held. Babies went, too, and generally slept on the same bed where the visitors’ coats were placed. In a room lighted by kerosene lamps, or sometimes by a lantern hanging on the wall, all the furnishings were removed. Music usually was provided by a single fiddler, who played on a platform in a convenient corner of the room. The fiddler had to be able to play good hoe-downs and to call the sets. Sometimes another person called the sets and a banjo or guitar was added to the band, but usually the fiddler would be the band leader and the band.
Partners were chosen, which required no formalities or introductions since everyone knew one another and danced together. Often it was understood which couples would be partners. Dancing continued until about midnight, when everyone went home. The playing of “Old Dan Tucker” usually signaled the last dance.
George recalled a square dance that was held near Saint Joseph, Indiana, one summer afternoon. When interest began to lag and people seemed tired of dancing, George was invited to perform a dance from plantation days. The fiddler played a hoedown, which the audience had not anticipated, and George did his best to interpret a dance that slaves performed on the plantation. The audience’s appreciation of his efforts pleased him: “Yes, ma’am,” he told fieldworker Van Meter, “I had everybody laughin’. You could hear them for four miles.”
Since George would not let unaccompanied women in his house, Iris Cook interviewed him at a neighbor’s house, and got the following account:
I was born in Union County, Kentucky, near Morganfield. My master was Mr. Ray. He made me call him Mr. Ray, wouldn’t let me call him Master. They was seven cabins of us. I was the oldest child in the family. Mr. Ray said that he didn’t want me in the tobacco, so I stayed at the house and waited on the womenfolk and went after the cows when I was big enough. I carried my stick over my shoulder, for I was afraid of snakes.
Mr. Ray was always very good to me. He liked to play with me, ‘cause I was so full of tricks and so mischievous. He give me a pair of boots with brass toes. I shined them up every day till you could see your face in ’em.
There was two ladies at the house, the missus and her daughter, who was old enough to keep company when I was a little boy. They used to have me to drive ’em to church. I’d drive the horses. They’d say, “George, you come in here to church.” But I always slipped off with the other boys who was standing around outside waitin’ for their folks and played marbles.
Yes, ma’am, the war sure did affect my family. My father, he fought for the North. He got shot in his side, but it finally got all right. He saved his money and came north after the war and got a good job. But I saw them fellows from the south take my uncle. They put his clothes on him right in the yard and took him with them to fight. And even the white folks, they all cried. But he came back. He wasn’t hurt, but he wasn’t happy in his mind like my pappy was.
Yes, ma’am, I would rather live in the North. The South’s all right, but someways I just don’t feel down there like I does up here.
No, ma’am, I was never married. I don’t believe in getting married unless you got plenty of money. So many married folks don’t do nothing but fuss and fight. Even my father and mother always spatted, and I never liked that, and so I says to myself “What do I want to get married for? I’m happier just living by myself.”
Yes, ma’am, I remember when people used to take wagonloads of corn to the market in Louisville, and they would bring back home lots of groceries and things. A colored man told me he had come north to the market in Louisville with his master and was working hard unloading the corn when a white man walks up to him, shows him some money, and asks him if he wanted to be free. He said he stopped right then and went with the man, who hid him in his wagon under the provisions, and they crossed the Ohio River right on the ferry. That’s the way lots of ’em got across here.
Did I ever hear of any ghosts? Yes, ma’am, I have. I heard noises and saw something once that I never could figure out. I was going through the woods one day and come up sudden in a clear patch of ground. There sat a little hoy on a stump all by himself there in the woods. I asks him who he was and was he lost, and he never answered me. Just sat there looking at me. All of a sudden he ups and runs, and I took out after him. He run behind a big tree, and when I got up where I last saw him, he was gone. And there sits a great big brown man twice as big as me on another stump. He never says a word, just looks at me. And then I got away from there. Yes, ma’am, I really did!
A man I knew saw a ghost once, and he hit at it. He always said he wasn’t afraid of no ghost, but that ghost hit him and hit him so hard it knocked his face to one side, and the last time I saw him it was still that way. No, ma’am, I don’t really believe in ghosts, but you know how it is. I live by myself, and I don’t like to talk about them, for you never can tell what they might do.
Lady, you ought to hear me rattle bones when I was young. I can’t do it much now, for my wrists are too stiff. When they played “Turkey in the Straw,” how we all used to dance and cut up. We’d cut the pigeon wing, and buck the wind, and all. But I got rheumatism in my feet now, ain’t much good anymore, but I sure has done lots of things and had lots of fun in my time.