Browse:Zippy Tull of the Eastern Shore (Volume 1, entries 3102–3107)
Zippy Tull of the Eastern Shore
Volume 1, entries 3102–3107. 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 3102
[My discovery of Zippy Tull and George Jackson - former celebrities of the high-man or witchcraft world along the Eastern Shore - I have described in the INTRODUCTION. One of the great stories about her has already been given - No. 8, page 5. For George Jackson, see page 912.] [Nicknames characterize the woman - "Zippy'" meaning '"lively'" and 'smart," and "Aunt Zippy'" revealing an affectionate regard by many people. She lived a large part of her life a mile or so from the Maryland line at a place once called Drummondtown, near New Church, Accomac County, Virginia. Approximate dates of birth and death would be the decade of 1830 and the year 1900. I have four stories about her, each told by a different informant; also three remedies given by a fifth person. Never again would I meet anyone who, I felt, had actually been so near old-time workers. All material, except the story by Mrs. Williams, I collected while working the region and stay- ing the last few days at the old Washington Hotel in Princess Anne, Maryland.] [Story No. 1 - recorded in my hotel dining room, Princess Anne, Maryland, was told by a former slave 89 years old.] That's been aboat [about] 70 years ago when I wus - 75 years ago [1861]. I know dat myself, I'm not talkin' about whut I hear somebody 'say. I wus a young man - guess I wusn't a young man neither. I called myself a young man an' I wus courtin' a girl. An' some people lived on a fahm [farm] that didn't like me so very well. I wus a very bright boy an' very swift at that time. So dey begin to wuk [work] on me, as I thought. We has an ol' woman named Zippy Tull, she's a fortuneteller. So I goes down to Miss Zippy an' I says to 'er, "I wan' chew to tell my fortune." She knew my father. She says, "All right, George," she says, "take a seat there." An' she goes over [the cards] an' I never said a word. I jis' sit down there an' listened at 'er. I hadn't tol' 'er nuthin atall yet. So she said, "George," she said, "there's a big dark woman," she said, "that don't like your mother an' don't like your father - an' she poisoned your dog." Well, that wus a fact. An' this dog died sort of tight anyhow. "Well, anyhow," she says, "it's workin' on you. Now, I ain't had no mind it seems to me for nuthin atall. "Well," I said, "I wan' chew to do somepin for me if you kin." She says, "I will, if you do whut I tell you to do," she says. "I will, an' farthermore," she says, "I'll make dem people come to you an' 'splain to you dey done it demselves." I tol' 'er that wus purtty good. Well, I goes to work an' done whut she told me to do. An' fo' or five days from that.
(What did she tell you to do?)
I ain't exposed [supposed] to do [tell] this.
[After all these years the old man was reluctant to tell!]
(Oh! I see. All right.)
In fo' or five days from that, I done jis' whut she told me, an' I done whut she tole me to do Saturday night. Aboat in two or three davs from then, mayhaps a week - that woman hadn't beer to my house in three years - she come there at twelve o'clock. She don't come in. She put both hands on the door an' says - my mother's name wus Liddy - she says, "Liddy," she said, "if ever I git over this, I shall never do any harm to nobody else while I live." "Well, Caroline," she said, "git over whut?" "Whut I've done." She says, "Whut have you done?" "Well," she said, "Liddy, I done a whole lot, I've done a whole lot in my time, but, '' she says, "I've done somepin now which I think that I've gone to my good scene [death] from outside [outside because her own spell had been turned against her by Zippy Tull]. She said, "I'll jes' say to you that I'll never will do nuthin else to nobody while I live, again." "Well, whut have you done?" "Well," she said, "I'll never do nuthin to nobody else while I live." Well, that woman went away, she went back to her home again - she went back aboat a quarter of a mile from me and she pined away. An' whut I done - as that stuff wasted away, she wasted away; when that stuff wus all gone, she went.
(What did she do? Can't you tell?)
Did I tell what I done?
(No. Did she [Zippy] tell what she [the bewitcher] did?)
No, she didn't tell me what she done to me.
(And what did you do, now? What did you get?)
Well, I [he still hesitates] - well, I done this. She [Zippy Tull] tole me to git some new needles, pins, an' some of my own water - an' I fergit now the other t'ings I take, been so long. I fergit the other odd t'ings that she tole me aboat, but some five or six diff'rent. But I know these new needles an' these new pins, an' I think some shot; put it all into a bottle, an' some of my own water into the bottle, an' dug a hole in de fahplace - taken up a brick an' dug a hole in de fahplace in my home. An' I buried this bottle, put it down - the stopper down. She says, "Now, when dat bottle leaks out - all dat stuff dat's in dat bottle, she'll die," she said, "but she'll waste away dat way same as dat bottle." She said, "Stop it up tight," she said, "turn it upside down, cover it up an' place this brick back on top of it." Well, I done that an' buried it, jest as she tole me, where I dug.
(Did she die?)
DIEI Why she smothered! [Princess Anne, Md., (127), 29:2.] 0. [Story No. 2 - came from Mr. J. Shrieve (Numbers Book 83-134), my hotel manager at Princess Anne, a man past fifty, the only white informant interviewed. The latter alone makes him memorable, but a favor he also did later made the day doubly a worthy memory (see INTRODUCTION). This story, No. 2, is numbered 0000. because it is already in the text - see No. 8, page 5.]
Entry 3103
[Story No. 3 - recorded in dining room of my hotel at Princess Anne - comes from Joe Dorman, No. 133, the man who told the remarkable storv. POWER FROM DEAD PREACHER'S BONE, p.285. Another story of his, about a whistling snake, has been lost.] I know of an old Indian, the old Indian's name was Marcellus Gates. His wife [a white Woman] left him, and he come to Miss Zippy [Tull] and wanted to find out all about this. She told him everything, she told him the man and all. He wanted to kill this man. "No," she says, "I won't do that." He wanted to kill this other old man whose name of - I can't think of his name now. Anyhow, he wanted to kill 'im. Old man Wainwrightl He was a Wainwright. So he wanted to kill old man Wainwright. "Well, no," she wouldn't do it. "No, I don't do that," she says. "But," she says, "I will fix it so tha' chew kin kill him if you want." "Oh yes," he'd kill 'im. So she told him what to do. He was to draw his phorto on a bran'-new shingle, just so he had his phorto. He goes to work and draws that thing. And she told him just exactly how much powder and shot must go in de gun. They used these old muscle [muzzle]-loaders, then. But de old man was so proud to git to kill 'im, he overloaded his gun. And she told him a certain distance to git off. And he was so proud to git to kill 'im, he went an' got closeter. Uncle Mack! That was his name. Old Mack Wainwright. So he got closeter. This is a real fact. He shot at Uncle Mack on that shingle. An' he ups with his gun, an' when he shot, he busted the shingle all to thunder. She told him if he busted it, he wouldn't die. "Now, you jis' got to mark dat shingle" - had to put one or two shot in it - "if you do, he'll die instantly." And he bust dat shingle all to 'plinters [splinters].
[How well Zippy provided against her own failure!]
But Uncle Mack fell. He was digging up his potatoes. Uncle Mack fell dead as a dead man - ker-boom - as soon as he shot. Here come de girl a-runnin'. Grandpap was killed - or somepin was de matter with him. She didn't know what was ailin' 'im. She knowed he fell. Somebody help her to git 'im to the house. They taken Uncle Mack to the house. And he aimed de gun right middle-way of this pixschure [picture]. And Uncle Mack wus peppered. Ev'ry shot wus in that gun wus on his stumick.
(All the shot that was in the shingle?)
Yes sir.
(They hit him?)
Dat was re'lly de fact. You could see them little bumps - looked like shot.
(On his skin?)
Yes sir - after he fell and was takened to de house and his clothes wus takened off. They didn't know what wus ailing him, you know - his clothes wus takened off and everything, and they wus tryin' to work him up, you know, and bring life to him. And he wus peppered!
(How long ago was that?)
Well, let me see. I'm about 60. That's been 45 or 50 year ago [before 1936]. They wus elderly along that time. Of course, the old Indian lived until I was a good [sized] boy. He lived a long time. I knowed him well. But I knew' d'ole man Mack. He died from it. He wus waitin' to hear, and when he hear' d'ole Uncle Mack fell, he thought he wus dead and he went over to see about it. So he told them what he done. He told he shot him. "By God," he says [on seeing Uncle Mack's stomach], 'that's wah [where] I shot him." He says, "I shot to kill him. Tha' chew see all over there, that's wah I shot 'im. He got so he never will be no better." So after he owned it all up, you know, it was no use to send for no doctor. He told 'em all what he'd done and ev'rything. Old man Mack lived about two or three months. I don't know if he lived that long before he died.
Entry 3104
[Story No. 4 - recorded in Baltimore, Maryland, was told by Mrs. Williams, mother of my contact man Jerry Williams. Her deceased husband was a nephew of George Jackson - see her material about him under GEORGE JACKSON, p.912f.] This old lady wus named Harriet Hen'erson. Why, she an' my grandma were good friends - supposed to be. An' then the' wus another woman named Emmer [Emma] Hen'erson. An' this woman Harriet Hen'erson, she didn't like this Emmer Hen'er- son, an' she told my grandma not to give her nuthin to eat. An' my grandma just shooed off, you know. She said, "Oh, I'm gon'a give 'er somepin to eat, if the woman come along an' want somepin to eat - sure I'm gon'a give 'er somepin to eat." An' this old woman Harriet Hen'erson said, "If you do, bad luck will take after you." [This is called a bad mouth - see BAD MOUTH, p.255f.] An' my grandma says, "Oh, I'm not 'fraid of no bad luck" - jis' like that [imitating her - as she says later, "She used to talk funny."]. So she goes on an' gives this Emmer Hen'erson somepin to eat. So the old woman Harriet she found out. She said, "Oh, yes," she said - my grandma wus named Liza - "Oh, yes," she said, "Liza, you give Emmer somepin to eat, did jeh?" My grandma said, "Yes, I did. She come to the house an' I give her somepin to eat." She said, "All rightl Then you see whut happens." So in a - I don't know just how long, I don't think it wus more than a month or So though before my grandmother taken sick. But at first, she had a close-piece - you know, her underwear - an' she hanged it out on the bushes. In those days that was the place where they hung clothes. An' this old woman Harriet, she's suppose - it must have been her. But anyhow, she [grandmother] found cut out of her close-piece [a piece] in the shape of a coffin. An' she takes it - not thinking, she takes a needle an' sews it [hole] up an' puts it on. [By sewing up the hole she closed the coffinl] So I think about a month - well, it wasn't more than a month, say a month, any way after that she taken sick. An' so this old woman Harriet goes - it must have been her - got the [sewed upl piece or sent someone to get it. Anyhow, she takes an' measures her foot- track - my grandma would use to go barefooted off ten [often] - she takes an' measures her track with a stick, an' takes this piece of garment an' wraps it around [stick] an' puts it into the latest grave, a new grave, puts that the foot at the grave. An' then my grandmother taken sick. They called it the Marle's graves, cemetery, then - a graveyard they called it then. That's near - well, it's about five miles of Pocomoke [City, Maryland] down near St. James [a small negro community where I had collected by hand one day and evening]. Well then, she stayed sick from Apurl until I guess August maybe. An' she crawled on her knees, she bark an' howl like a dog - my grandmother, my own grandmother [for barking, see 775-776, p.256]. She couldn't walk at all. An her husband, my grandfather, had to lift her up an' lift her down. An' every- thing she eat come right on up. You see, they didn't put anything [poison] in her, that wus whut wus so funny. An' so anyhow, they couldn't discover whut wus happen. She had doctors after doctors - old Dr. Quinn, he doctored on her - an' doctor, Hall wus his name - an' Dr. McMurray[?] but we used to call him Dr. Mack, an' he doctored on 'er an' he give 'er up. All those doctors give 'er up. So she said to my grandfather - she believe in cunjuration - an' she said to my grandfather, she said, "James, I'm hurt." An' he said, "Well, I 'spect you are." She said, "Yes," she said, "I wan' chew to go to old Miss" - she used to talk funny, my grandmother did - 'I wan' chew to go to ol' Miz-ez-ez-ez-Zippy Tull.' We used to laugh at her. She [Zippy] lived at Drummondtown. That was in Virginia a few miles away]. It's there yet. That's somewhere near New Church. [Zippy Tull lived at Drummondtown, near the north boundary of Accomac County, Virginia, on the Delmarva Peninsula - so called from Delaware, Maryland, Va.
(Virginia) - between Chesapeake and Delaware Bays.]
Then, anyhow, when he came in - 'twus that night when he drove up there. He got a horse from the lady he worked for named Miss Marle, Miss Liza Marle. An' when he got there an' he opened the door, she said, "uh huh," she said, "I see whu' chew come for," she said, "your wife if lying the pint of death." She say, "She hasn't but three more days to live." An' she says, "An' a woman told her not give another woman somepin to eat' - jis' settin' talkin' right to 'im like that - she says, "an' she did it, an' this woman told her bad luck would take after her." [The narrator in Story No. 2 says Zippy lived near Siloam, Wicomico County - north of and contiguous to Worcester County. New Church and Drummondtown are in Accomac County, Virginia, a few miles from the Maryland line and southern bound- ary of Worcester County; these 3 adjoining counties being on the Eastern Shore - east of Chesapeake Bay.] That's whut he [grandfather] said. He said she talkin' to 'im jes' like I'm talkin' to you. And she didn't look into any cards [to tell his fortune] or anything, but jis' told him right straight. She says, "An' she's took a piece out of her close garment" - but they called it then, shimmy, you know - "out of her close garment an' has wrapped it around - then took the measure of her foot, an' she's wrapped it around the measure of her foot an' put it at a graveyard, a new grave," she said, "right at the foot of a new grave," she says, "and you go there and take it up." She says, "Yes, your wife is barkin' an' howlin' like a dog." She said, "An' you go there an' take it up, an' then after you take it up," she says, "you wind it up, it's almost to dust." She says, "If that piece of goods do plainly rot, '' she says, "then your wife will die," she said, "but chew go right straight back now," she said, "it's almost rotten," she says, "an' you take it up an'" - I don't know whut she told him to do with it, but anyhow she told him that she would do the balance, for him to take it up. An' he went home he said. An' when he first got home he heard my grandma moanin' an' groanin' an' howlin' like she did, an' he goes to the house. Well, she told him to go to take it up before he got to the house, but he wus so 'fraid she'd die, she wus dead, he run to the house - he couldn't git it at first [on his first attempt in the graveyard], full of hurry, in such a hurry - he run to the house an' listened at her, an' run back in [the graveyard]. An' he triggered down there agin, dug down there agin, an' he got this thing up. It wus the mea- sure of her foot an' the piece of her garment. An' the garment wus almost rot. An' when he got it up, it come to pieces - that rotten. An' after that my grandmother begin to git better. After awhile she got well. That wus in Apurl [she took sick] - about August that he goes to Miss Zippy. She said in September she got so she could go out an' go to the orchard an' git a basket of apples.
Entry 3105
[The following remedies come from Joshua Wilson, who said he had acted as runner years ago for Zippy Tull and George Jackson - drove clients out to them. Even if what he says is true, I doubt him ever being in the confidence of either. What little information he could have gathered would have been given by talkative patients on the homeward journey.] Now, to take this spell off, she [Zippy Tull would] go to work you understand, she take a live chicken. She killed this live chicken and just speld [= split - from Scotland] de head back - no matters war's [where is] it at, she banished [bandaged] this live chicken right to the place, right war this poison cunjura- tion were, and let that chicken die she banished with. And she'd take that chicken away from it, the chicken got all that poison; chicken dcne turnt - sometimes she turnt black and some[times] green, depends what kind of stuff you [spellthrower] put on. So she takes this chicken - after she takes this chicken from this woman [victim], she carry it to the running stream, sent it wid de wind and tide, fer [far] as de wind and tide will carry it. And that woman [spell- thrower] has got to go away from that place, she must drift like de tide and wind, drift away like dat chicken. She can't stay no more. This woman [patient] will come all right, and this woman [spell-thrower] been driftin', galloppin' around, until she'd have to leave the whole neighborhood, jis' can't stay.
The account explicitly names a chicken, while the editor doubts the informant's access. The live/killed sequence, application wording and alleged effects remain unresolved or unverified.
Entry 3106
All she [Zippy Tull] wanted was the photograph. She could take this photograph, an' she had a regular little gun, she put it [photograph] up, she get huh quicksilver [either (l) tin foil, sometimes called silver paper, a sub- stitute for silver bullet, or (2) silver from the backing of a mirror], steel dus', an' she'd shoot this pitchure full of holes an' tell you to take this pitchure - you bring her firs' thing, this goes with a red brick, a right bran'- new brick never been used. She'd have you go to work an' write this party's name on this new brick. You take this pitchure, this new brick, go to the graveyard, you bury that crossways [the picture and brick crossing each other] on a man's breast, an' it wouldn't be many days before you commenced to lingah. If somepin wouldn't change, you never got better unless that wus moved. Now, she called that sZow death. An' it wus slow death, too!
Entry 3107
If she'd [some woman had] gone away from you, she'd [Zippy Tull would] tell you, "Bring me the right shoe an' the last track she made of goin' from home" - take the dirt from that track goin' from home, an' her right shoe, an' bring it to her. She'd take this shoe, she dressed this shoe an' had this shoe - you see, the toe wus goin' from the house, she'd have you to bury it, the toe goin' to de house; the shoe, you change it right around. She put that [track] in the shoe. An' in nine day's time she'd tell you she'd [be] there, she come very near bein' there.