Browse:George Jackson: of the Eastern Shore (Volume 1, entries 3092–3095)
George Jackson: of the Eastern Shore
Volume 1, entries 3092–3095. Source context: THE DOCTORS AT WORK: REPORTS FROM LAYMEN → MORE DOCTORS DESCRIBED BY LAYMEN. Entries listed under this heading in the source volume.
Entries
Entry 3092
[I heard about George Jackson and Zippy Tull of the Eastern Shore at the same time and from some of the same persons - for her, see later in this sub- section. The first two stories describing Uncle George, as he was called, are by Mrs. Elijah Williams - widow of George's nephew - whom I interviewed while collecting in Baltimore. She Was also mother of Jerry Williams, my contact man on the Eastern Shore and in Baltimore, who tells the third story. The fourth story, statement rather, comes from Joshua Wilson, who as a young man drove an occasional client out to George Jackson or to Zippy Tull.] Pitt's Creek wharh [where] he wus born at. That's in Worcester County [Maryland]. Well then, after he growed up to be a man - of course that wus years and years before I wus born - why then he moved to the place they called Fairmount. It's in Somerset County. And he stayed there his life - he died in Fairmount.
(How long ago did he die?)
Well, he's been dead about 35 years [before 1936].
(How old was he when he died?)
I don't know his age but I'm sure he wus around about 70. I'm sure he wus.
(He had quite a reputation?)
Yes indeed.
(How did he learn this work?)
Well, I suppose it must have been gifted 'cause he couldn't read - he could not read or write, so he must have been gifted. But he could read the Bible. He didn't have no one to learn him anything.
(Was he born in slavery?) [I wanted to double-check his age.]
Born in slavery? Oh, yes indeed! Real old slaveryl Now, he might have been older than that when he died, but he, you know, he kept youngified. You wouldn't know he was old - you knew he was old, that's all.
(Did anyone ever try to carry on his work? Did he have a son or anyone?)
He never had no children.
(Has anyone a photograph of him?)
No, I have no photograph of him.
(Was a photograph ever taken of him?)
Not as I know of. You know, in them times they didn't take much photographs. He never was married, and he had a housekeeper. Now, whether she tried to do anything or not I do not know.
(Where is he buried?)
He was buried in Fairmount but I don't know the graveyard because I didn't go, neither did his nephew [informant's husband] becus we didn't know he was dead until the day he was buried. That was the first time they sent him word that his uncle was dead. [His name was] George Jackson, but you know in olden times de folks who wus born children then, they named George Jackson and Nathan Williams and Josiah and all that, and they give 'em that name. But his re'lly name would have been George Dennis, George Jackson Dennis. Old John Hugh Dennis they called him, a white man, you know he was his owner, he was his master.
(John Hugh Dennis?)
Yes sir. Well, do you know - no, you don't know becus joo don't belong here [in Baltimore]. Why Samuel Dennis used to be de chief jurdge here in Baltimore, it was his father.
(Where did he have the farm?)
They had the farm on - they called it the Cedar Hall. That wus near Pocomoke City [Maryland].
Entry 3093
My mother - well, she was about 40 I guess or maybe 40 odd. She wus 42 - my brother wus two years old. She taken sick. She went outdoors - I wus livin' in Pocomoke [City, Maryland] then - an' she went out de door. Well, these ole houses, country places, the chimleys, zhoo know, aside yeh house - an' she went out there an' stopped de side de chimley [for chimney-corner toilet, see 203, p.56] an' she taken a pain in her right [big] toe an' it went on up in her knee. An' when she got in the house she said, "Mama, I can't walk." That wus my grandmother an' my grandma lived to be 85. She said, "Mama, I can't walk," she said, "my knee - I got a pain in my toe an' it's went up in my knee. I can't walk." So my grandmother - she wus a mighty one fer rubbin', you know, an' she rub 'er. An' she went an' got some ole horehoun' an [or] yard marvel - de grass, dey call it yard marvel grass - an' she stews this stuff up an' she rubs zer in it. An' it didn't do 'er any good. She couldn't walk. So she put her in the baid. An' when she got in the baid she couldn't get out any more - taken para- lize all the way from 'er shoulder clear down. She couldn't move dat foot, dat right foot. She couldn't move her right foot no way - had to take 'er 'bout de baid an' put 'er in. She jes' gotta wha' choo call a perilous [paralysis] stroke, we thought. So we sent - my grandmother doh [though], she sent fuh de doctor. An' de Doctor Quinn come, why he said 'twas a col' [cold] rheumatis. So she got worser an' worser. All he did to 'er - everything he give 'er would make 'er worse. So my husband an' I - that wus his uncle, Uncle George Jackson wus - I said, "I very mind to go to Uncle George an' see if they is anything ailin' mah mother. I believe dey's somepin wrong about her - she can't walk an' de doctor can't do 'er no good, she can't use her side." Well, I thought then in that time that de people didn't take wit perilous strokes, zhoo know, offten, like they do now. So I says, "I don't believe it's any perilous stroke." He says, "All right, then, let's us go." So we walked. We got out about nine a'clock at night, one night, an' walked down to Fairmount [Maryland], down whare I told joo Uncle George wus. When we got there 'twas daybreak - he wus settin' up then, he had his clothes on - I guess about five a'clock in the morning [eight hours walk]. It wus in June when we went. I suppose it wus about five a'clock in de morning 'cus it wus light. An' we rahpped [rapped] on de door an' he opened de door. You know, mah husband didn't go to see 'im as offten as he wanted it to see 'im, to go see him. An' he said, "Uh huh!" He said, "I knowed somepin happen," he said, "iss [else] you wouldn't of been here." So we laffed an' tole 'im, "No, not much happened." He said, "Yes it did," he said - to me, he said. He said, "Ya, your mother's layin' pint [point] of death, she can't walk." I said to 'im - I wus always kin'a jokin' - I said, "How did joo know that?" "Uh huhI" he said - he wus a great big fellah, he'd filled this chair up - he said, "Uh huhI your mother's down an' can't walk." I said, "Yes." "An' why didn't choo come fer 'er before?" He said, "She's been down now ever since Apurl an' you jis' come here in June." I said, "Yes, she did." He said, "She started to a show." Well, she did. She started to git ready to go to a show an' she taken dat pain in de foot. De show wus at Pocomoke City, an' she wus down in kin'a about two mile from de show, from de city, out in de country part. An' he said, "Well, why didn't zhah come here before?" An' he said, "She wus gettin' ready to go to a show an' dat's de show she got to!" I said, "Well, that's true." "Uh huh!" he said. So he jis' set back in de chair - he always set in a chair, somepin like this. "Uh huh!" he said. "Well, a lady dat she thought dat wouldn't nevah do 'er no harm, a woman," he said, "an' she's a little short woman," he said, "she's jist about so high" - an' sure enough she wus - "an' she's light [in color]," he said. "An' she put dat [image there because] she an' her husband got mad with 'er, 'cus she wanted her to go to her house an' she wouldn't go," he said. "An' she come down there an' laffed an' talked with 'er, an' went out side de chimley at night an' put a piece of a tin," he said. "So when you go back, '' he said, "they'll be a piece of tin put right inside [in the corner] of de chimley," he said, "an' it's in de shape of her." He said, "It's in de shape of your mother," he said, "an' it's got one foot off" - had been cut out a piece of tin. "An," he said, "it wus put down," he said, "an' the foot's cut off." He said, "You go back, Elijay" - he called mah husband - of course he wus his nephew. He said, "Elijay, you go back, you go an' look, feel down, take a trowel, '' he said, "don't take anything else, don't take no spade, no shovel, '' he said, "an' take a trowel, an' you dig down an' you dig your mother-in-law up, he said, "an' I'll do the balance." He said, "You bring dat piece of tin to me," he said, "an' I'll do de balance. Zhoo [the informant] walk with him." He laffed. An' we stayed there all day. We stayed an' visited. We stayed there about fo' a'clock. He wus gon'a stay till five but he told us not to. He said, "Now, don't choo stay here no longer." He set an' talked with us, first one thing an' then another. He said, "Now listen, an' git yerself ready an' go on back so you kin take that up," he said, "befo' morning." He said, "I want choo to git up out of here, I want choo to git back in time enough befo' fo' or five a'clock tonight [that is, before sunrise] an' take that up." He said, "You'll find it." An' sure enough we did git it. We went back home, an' Elijah went an' took his trowel like he told him an' lifted that up. An' there wus that piece of tin. It had legs an' all, an' this piece [a foot] wus cut off. An' he took it back there. Now, I don't know whut he [George Jackson] did, but he took it back to him. Mah mother got well. She lived about ten years after that. Baltimore, Md.,
(139, Mrs. Williams), 40:1; happened about 1896.]
Entry 3094
My grandmother - well, I'm speaking of my aunt - just as well say grandmother, she was born a slave. She [aunt] said that one night she dreamt that this friend of hers was mixing up something that was green, yet it was sup- posed to be milk. And she said to her husband next day, "Purnell, don't you take dinner with Bettie on Sunday." But sure enough he would go and take dinner with this woman on Sunday - they were friends - and sure enough this woman did poison her [aunt's] husband in milk. So he called on a man by the name of George Jackson who lived out here near Girdletree [Maryland] at that time - he's dead now. [George Jackson never lived at Girdletree.] And he went to call on this old man George Jackson. And he went to get some roots out of the woods and boiled it up. And while he was boiling these up he was singing a song. And the more he'd sing, the more this stuff would boil. I suppose that was just [uncle's] imagination. But when he got it boiled as much as he wanted it, he gave my uncle this to drink. And there had been things crawling up and down - running up and down - inside of him. You could hear them. She [aunt] said this had happened about two weeks after he took this dinner. You could hear these things squealing as if though they were mice and rats. And finally, when he drank this up, an hour or so afterwards, why these things came from him - he discharged these things. And they were wood- bitches - ground puppies.
[For another example of singing while something boils, see 918, p.337.]
This happened down here at St. James [a Negro community in which I was to work a few days later]. St. James is five miles on the other side of Pocomoke [City, Maryland] right on the border of Virginia. [The speaker is Jerry Williams, George Jackson's grandnephew and my contact man. I had interviewed him that summer at Ocean City, Md. We are about to start my second collecting trip in Maryland - Friday, Dec. 14, 1936 - as well as to use the Telediphone for the first time. This unusual story of George Jackson singing to his brew, the first recording for the Telediphone, signifies bubbling luck - also work - for the 3000 cylinders to follow.]
Entry 3095
Uncle George [Jackson] always called for wah choo calied a jack. This jack is a magnet, a magnet jack. Magnets dey called jacks them days. This mag- net, you know, [is] a piece of little steel in pickin' up pins. He'd tell you git him a magnet, an' he'd take this hair [which client brought from woman], an' this magnet, an' gits de - I'm sure he had other things put with it, you know. But anyhow, that was fixed up in a bag. An' when he'd give you that you wore that an' they'd always [be] success[ful] ever he'd fixed that for 'em. You couldn't fool with a woman. I don't care how many tried to beat it, they could not git her away from him. [Ten dollars was charged from this protective device. It is interesting to learn that formerly magnets were so commonly used as jacks that a magnet in some places was called a jack. But this device is not a jack, it is a hand; a type of CHASTITY HAND, p.534, which contains two other examples of Uncle George's love hands, Nos.1767-1768.]