Видеоистория Бесси Скотт: воспоминания о детстве в Техасе и судьбе семьи Уайthead

In 1976, when she was over 80 years old, Bessie Lorena Whitehead Scott recorded the William Tazewell Whitehead family from the time they lived in Georgia to their life in Blanket, Texas. The little blonde girl was the last of the children in the Taz Whitehead family. Bessie Lorena was born on the cold winter night of December 13, 1890. She felt like she was a Christmas present to her mother, Carrie, who was thirty-five when Carrie was born. Since she was Carrie’s ninth child, and a girl, her mother was not enthusiastic about her “present,” but her father was delighted. Four boys had arrived between Bessie and another girl. Her father said he was tired of boys and treated her like a special pet. His enjoyment of his baby girl was a comfort to Bessie’s mother, after her father died when she was two. The family had to get by with the older brothers helping out. Bessie was born in the log house, and was a year old when the family moved into a new “plank” house. Plank wood cut from a lumber mill was an improvement over logs that did not fit well and let cold air in even when they were chinked with mud. Following a severe case of measles when Bessie was just six months old, an ear infection started that troubled her all her life that caused a severe loss of hearing. When she was a little girl, her brothers worked in the fields, attended school and went their own ways. She learned to play by herself, making mud pies, playing doctor to her family of dolls, riding her “horse” made out of a mesquite tree limb, and playing “piano,” which was the removable top of her Mother’s old Singer sewing machine. She learned songs at Sunday school and would prop the songbook against the wall and play spiritedly on the machine top. She sang the words as she heard them, sometimes people said she misunderstood them, which stemmed from her hearing problems. She had a playmate named Ira. When she sang, “At the cross, at the cross where I received my sight…” she sang “Ira ceived my sight.” She was fascinated by books or any printed material. She begged her Mother to teach her to read. Because she was busy cooking, cleaning, sewing, washing and all the daily chores of caring for a large family, her mother had little time to teach her. Her older sister, who was 14 years old when Bessie was born, also loved to read. She was the one that taught Bessie to read when she was five years old. Bessie’s Mother was deeply concerned about some of her reading materials, because she read anything that she could beg or borrow. Her Mother felt some of it was “trash” and would be a “bad influence.” Bessie’s days were not all play. Her Mother believed that every child should have a job to do and assume the responsibility of doing it well. Her dolls and books had to wait until she had performed her specific daily duties. One of her jobs was to fill a basket of chips from the woodpile, sometimes adding corn cobs from the hoselot after the horses had eaten the corn, and put it by the kitchen stove for kindling. The other was to sit for one hour on a stool made from tin cans, and tack carpet rags. The floors were covered with carpets woven on a hand loom from discarded sheets, clothing and other cloths. Bessie’s Mother saved all the dresses, underskirts, shirts, pants and other clothing too worn for wear. She cut out the stronger parts, washed and dyed them blue, green, red and yellow. Then she tore them into strips about one inch in width. These strips were sewn together at the ends by hand, then wound into balls – some for to five inches in diameter. The process of sewing the strips together was called “tacking carpet rags” and even a child could do it. This part of the work was no fun, and Bessie watched the old clock on the mantel and fretted at how slowly the hands moved to end the hour of toil. If Bessie did a sloppy job, she was made to do it again. Looking back, Bessie was appreciative of the self-discipline that her Mother imposed on her children. She ingrained in them the value of taking pains to do a job well the first time, the acceptance of responsibility, and the joy of achievement. One time, when it was very cold out, their Mother put the big wash pot on the coals in the kitchen fireplace, and was doing the family wash. Bessie had her family of dolls beside her on the bench. She was busy talking to them, playing like she was putting them to sleep and punishing those who were naughty, and she played like she “dipped snuff” which was made from cinnamon and sugar. No one in their family ever dipped snuff, but it was a common custom for men and women of that time. Bessie grew up seeing neighbor women dip snuff, using toothbrushes from mesquite or plum twigs. Her Mother had sat down on a stool by the fireplace, holding the yellow paper in her hands, crying. Her Mother said, “I just had a message that my Mother is dead. When I was little like you, she took care of me and loved me just like I love you and I loved her very much.” When Bessie was seven, she could walk down the big road alone and play for hours with the little girls of the John Knudson family. Their daughter’s name was Carrie, named after Bessie’s Mother, who helped deliver her. The girls could only play together for two hours because of their chores. If they did not come back after that time, they were punished. Bessie had several small dolls, including rag dolls that her Mother made and cloth dolls with china heads. Her favorite was “Marye Elizabeth,” a 21-inch beauty with blond curls and eyes that rolled up and made it look like the doll went to sleep. She was a Christmas gift to Bessie, from a cousin near the same age of eight, in Georgia named Marye Elizabeth Barnett. Bessie kept the doll in the dresser drawer in Lizzie’s room, the least used room in the hose, and Bessie’s Mother’s strict rule was that Marye Elizabeth must be put back in the drawer when playtime was over. One summer afternoon, Carrie came to play with Bessie and they played for two blissful hours, sharing Marye Elizabeth. When Carrie looked at the clock, she saw she was overstaying her time. Bessie said, “Mama, Carrie has to go quick! Can I go to the Big Ellum with her?” Her Mother said, “Yes, but put your doll in the drawer first.” Bessie rushed to obey. When the drawer stuck, she slammed it shut. Marye Elizabeth’s pretty face was too near the top of the drawer, and it was crushed completely. Bessie lay on the floor and sobbed. Carrie ran all the way home. Her story of the doll brought her Mother’s sympathy. She did not get a whipping for being late. Bessie never had another Marye Elizabeth. Carrie and Bessie continued to meet at the Big Ellum. Bessie put Marye Elizabeth away in a little streamer trunk, with the smaller dolls, other childhood treasures and the only picture made of Bessie as a child. It showed her at six years old with straight, yellow braids, wearing a pink wool dress with a yoke outlined in insertion and pink baby ribbon. There was a fire that destroyed that trunk when Bessie was sixteen. That was the end of her little girlhood. The book, “The Way It Was,” by Bess Whitehead Scott can be purchased from the Blanket Museum or from the Brown County Historical Society. - Article submited by Donnie Lappe and Ronnie Lappe