by Oscar L. Robinson
I worked and would go home every Sat. night to see father and
mother and the folks, and I would go to church to see the young
folks I was raised with. I worked about a year at this place and
one day I had a birthday--on the 12th day of July I was 19 years
old. Mr. Mall learned that I was going to have a birthday and the
Co. arranged a big barbecue with cold drinks in honor of my
birthday. I had the pleasure of inviting all the folks that I
wanted too--it was a free dinner. There was folks that I wanted to
have a special invitation, especially my intended wife, and all of
my kinfolks and friends. Mr. Mall told me it was my day. He had
a fine wife and two fine girls and I had gained their love and
confidence. They made everything so pleasant, and showed me as
good a time as was possible.
I worked with the Mall Sawmill Co. until they moved their mill.
As I am looking over this old mill location and as I view the
situation it brings my memories back as a young man of 19 years.
I remember the good times I had here, but it makes me sad as I look
over the old ruins of this old village.
My cousin, William Bean owns all the land where the village and
mill was, and is a farm now, and this is the part of the country
that my mother's people live, so I am visiting mothers folks.
There is a big bunch of them--the Beans and Collins and Burnette
and Martins. So I am having a good time. I am here for a week or
so, going from place to place, going to church and visiting.
Cousin Akins Collins is the principal of a singing school-he is a
fine teacher and singer and was elected Tax Assessor in the Primary Election on July 26th. I am now in the Collins Community, going to
a revival meeting at the Collins Chapel Church. As I sit here in
Old Chapel Church that feeling so sacred to me, the church that
Mother was a member and where I heard her shout for God so many
times. I'm sad as I look over the large congregation, everyone
related to me, all kin folks of mine are here and are strangers to
me. I will visit the old homes of my aunts and uncles. mother's
sisters and brother's homes that I used to visit and love so well.
As I visit here for a week or so, going from place to place, having
a good time and meeting so many kin folks andbeing in their homes.
I just want to say I met the most pleasant and the happiest folks
I ever met. They did not have anything to do but go to church and
to the singings and big dinners and just have a good time. It
just seems to me they are the most satisfied and contented
set of people I ever met in all my life.
So I visit all of mothers people and Mother's home that she was
raised up in and I am very proud of being here and visiting. Those
I meet and raise their hats and say: O.L., I am so glad to see you
out this morning. How is the Boss? Old Tab, the preacher, told me
one day, he says: Mr. O.L., you know I worked for Mr. Zed Robinson,
your father, before you was born and here you is 18 or 19 years old
and you is my boss. I tell you, they never was a man like Mr. Zed,
he show did know how to treat a Negro good. As I view over this
old place, I look not very far and see the old home of Mr. Dudley
where I boarded when I worked here. Mrs. Dudley was the first
sanctified person I ever saw and I thought she was crazy.
I went to work for the J. M. Dudley Sawmill Co. when I was 19
years old, when the Fox-Mall sawmill moved, I was out of a job for
awhile so father learned that Mr. Dudley who was a warm friend of
fathers, wanted a sawyer or courage runner, so father advised me to
go down and see the Dudley Co. So I went down and got the job of
sawyer and foreman of the mill crew. The crew consisted of 210
negros. There wasn't but two while men on the works, that was me
and Mr. Dudley. Mr. Dudley was the office man and he tended to all
of his business himself, so now I am here visiting friends. I
don't have any kin folks here in these parts of the country. It is
about 25 miles from my old home. I worked here about 2 years and
made a host of friends, so I was invited to come down and visit.
I sure had a fine time and enjoyed myself meeting my many friends,
who made me welcome. They sure are fine people. I visited here 2
or 3 days and saw the old mill where I worked. It looked so
desolated and so lonesome it made me sad. On the other hand, it
encourgaged me to think that I made and had so many friends. As I
stand here it comes to my mind how those negroes that was working
under my authority and how they would respect me, it looked like
they just worshipped me and I just believe some of them would of
sealed their love for me and my protection with their blood if it
had been necessary. They would of done anything in the world for
me, so it encourgages me as I sit here and think back how I gained
the love and confidence of a crew of Negroes. It encourgages me as
I think back as a young man how nice and kind I was to those
negros under my authority as a Boss. My head block-sitter was a
preacher named Tabe Walker. He would have some big meeting going
on and he would invite me to come. When I would go out to hear him
preach, oh, how he would pray to God to save his fine young boss.
As I came to my work every morning Tabe would be there praying and
I could hear him praying for his young boss and as I would come
under the shed, they would all pray hard for me.
One day Mrs. Dudley came down to the mill and ordered me to
shut the mill down. I said: What do you mean? She said: I want
to preach to this crew. So I shut down the mill and she preached
for 30 minutes, and she came several times after that and preached
to the crew. I did not know what about shutting down, so I go see
Mr. Dudley about the matter and he said: O.L., you did just right.
When she comes down and demands you shut down, just stop. So
before I quit working for them I found that Mrs. Dudley was a real
good Christian and her daughter Lulu was about 16 years old. There
was 2 boys younger than the girl. Lulu was a real good Christian,
too. Mr. Dudley was a wicked man, wouldn't carry Mrs. Dudley and
Lulu to church, so I am very glad that I can look back as a moral
young man. I am proud that I was moral as I made many friends and
gained the confidence and friendship of Christians. I remember one
day Mrs. Dudley says: Mr. Robinson, I don' think I would be
saying too much to tell you that I think you are one of the
cleanest and nicest moral young men I ever met and I adore your
morality and know you can be such a good man. You don't have any
bad habits, or use bad language and I have all confidence in you as
a young gentleman, and that is fine and I adore that. Yet you are
not a Christian. Your great morality and personality aint going to
save you...She talked to me about my soul's salvation and I was
almost persuaded to be a Christian, but I just waved it off and
went on.
Then one day there came a great sadness and discourgagement to
my heart when a message came to me that my father was very sick and
for me to come at once. I went to Mr. Dudley with the message to
come home at once to fathers bedside, so I gave instructions to the
hands and turned over to Tabe Walker until I returned. Seeing me
so sad and discourgaged, he broke down and prayed to God to
encourgage and to strengthen his young boss and prayed that father
would be better when I got home and that he might be well soon so
that I could return to work. So I was encourgaged to think that I
had the love and sympathy of these negroes. I went on home and
found father very low. I was confined to his bedside until he
passed away and was put away in the Robinson Cemetary. I went back
to work, but would come home once in awhile and turn over my check
to mother-oh, how it would encourgage her when I would come home.
I worked here until I got married, when I was betweein 20 and
21. As I look over this part of the country where I worked for 2
years and had such a good time when I worked here I have some fine
friends here which I am glad to meet again. As I look over this
old mill place I think back 35 or 40 years ago whre so many
incidences come into my life, some made me sad and some things make
me glad. I am very glad to have the chance of being here, visiting
old friends and wandering over the old ruins of this place. Now I
leave and go back up to my old home where I was married. I travel
the very same old road I used to travel 40 years ago.
As I come in to Clanton, the country site of my home I come to
the old lumber yard where all the lumber was loaded on cars and
shipped to market. Clanton is a great lumber and material center,
great lumber yards. As I look over them, it brings to my memory
when my passengers would unload in this village. I remember my
father owned those big lumber yards and when I pulled the engine
into this town and stop, the empoyees would wave their hands and
yell: Hello, boy, how are you? They all knew me and would come to
my engine and talk to me until my conductor would say: ALL Aboard.
Oh, how glad I am to have this priviledge to see this old yard, as
I love this little city. As I go on out and come to a sawmill town
and as I approach the old ruins where a great tragedy occurred one
day, years ago. I was called by my older brother, who was the
General Machinest and sawyer. This accident occured to a young man
who was rolling sawdust from under the circle saw and happened to
raise up and the saw struck his head and split his head wide open.
My brother called me, as I was not far away, so I witnessed the
scene. When I got there, they had the young man laid out on some
timber and my brother had been standing up in front using the lever
and as the saw struck the young man's head, the saw sling his
brains and blood all over brothers face and all over his clothes.
As I look over this scene that was the first thing that came into
my mind. It was an awful sight.
As I go on two or three miles further I come to the rail road
crossing where another great tragedy occured when my uncle was
killed by the train. I was 7 or 8 years at the time, but I
remember it well. I remember going to the spot several times after
he was killed and I could see the spots of his brains on the
crossties and thos spots stayed there until the ties rotted out.
So I am not at the spot where he was killed. He was a school
teacher and was going home one Friday night after his school was
out. He was supposed to have been robbed and killed and laid on
the railroad tracks. Oh, so sad.
When I was engineer on this great railroad I never passed this
spot that I did not think of my dear uncle, so I am very sad as I
leave this spot. It is the saddest part of my visit here. As I go
on, I come to another sad spot, to Salem Church where 200 yards
from where another of my Uncles was killed. Uncle Mat Davis.
He was killed after I left this country. There is a large rock
standing at the spot where he lay, so sad as I sit there thinking
how he was murdered--he was drunk and was shot down like a dog.
Died drunk with his clothes and shoes on. Oh, how sad I am as I
think what the Bible says about no drunkard shall enter the Kingdom
of Heaven. I go on into my old home again and as I begin to make
preparations to leave on my journey home, the sadness of leaving my
old home sweet home is great.
As I come up to my old home where I was married, where I lived
the first 2 years of my married life, the house me and my wife left
37 years ago with our little baby girl. And as I come in sight of
the old home where my granddad lives now, I see a great crowd of
folks, brothers and sisters, loved ones and friends there waiting
to see me start for my distant home. It seems like it was the
saddest time of my life. As I waited for the bus, I sat on the
front porch and looked over the beautiful apple orchard that I had
eaten apples out of years ago. Looking in the distance I see the
beautiful mountains where I killed wild turkeys. I was pleased to
be in that home sweet home once more.
The bus was about due, the sad time has come for me to say
goodbye, maybe for the last time on this earth, so I gave them my
parting hand and said a few words, with my eyes looking to Jesus
and my hand raised toward the skies: Brothers and Sisters and
Friends, if we never meet on this earth again, I hope we will meet
in that Great Beyond, where no more partings and no more sad
hearts and where we will shed no more tears---no more sickness and
no more deaths, but where we will have love, joy, and peace and
happiness and will live eternally.
Now I leave and I look back and see the grand old home sweet
home, and I cried, but I had to go.
This story of Grandfather Robinson's Sentimental Journey was
transcribed in long hand by his daughter, Lola Robinson Lugo, from
a tablet journal he kept. This journal was found in his
possessions after his death here in California.
At the insistence of my father, Oscar Davis Robinson, Aunt Lola
completed the work and it was given to me to type and prepare for
copying. This was brought on by a visit to Alabama by my father
last year, where he felt the need to preserve some of the family
history.
I have enjoyed doing this very much as it gave me an insight
into a grandfather whom I knew very slightly. I do remember him
visiting our home in Seminole, OK when I was a very little girl,
but until I worked with this story, I really didn't know him at
all.
I hope those of you who read this will over look any
typographical errors or continuity of thought, as we have tried to
stay as close to the journal as we could.
Respectfully yours,
Nina Robinson Darling
