http://library.duke.edu/digitalcollections/behindtheveil  

 

     

 

Interview with Alfred James Smith

August 2, 1994 Transcript of an Interview about Life in the Jim Crow South New Iberia (La.) Interviewer: Felix Armfield ID: btvct07058 Interview Number: 797

SUGGESTED CITATION

Interview with Alfred James Smith (btvct07058), interviewed by Felix Armfield, New Iberia (La.), August 2, 1994, Behind the Veil: Documenting African-American Life in the Jim Crow South Digital Collection, John Hope Franklin Research Center, Duke University Libraries. Behind the Veil: Documenting African-American Life in the Jim Crow South An oral history project to record and preserve the living memory of African American life during the age of legal segregation in the American South, from the 1890s to the 1950s. ORIGINAL PROJECT Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University (1993-1995)  

COLLECTION LOCATION & RESEARCH ASSISTANCE John Hope Franklin Research Center for African and African American History and Culture

at the David M. Rubenstein Rare Book & Manuscript Library

The materials in this collection are made available for use in research, teaching and private study. Texts and recordings from this collection may not be used for any commercial purpose without prior permission. When use is made of these texts and recordings, it is the responsibility of the user to obtain additional permissions as necessary and to observe the stated access policy, the laws of copyright and the educational fair use guidelines.

Center for Documentary Studies at Duke University Behind the Veil: Documenting African American Life in the Jim Crow South

Interview with Alfred James Smith

New Iberia, LA August 2, 1994

Interviewed by Felix Armfield

Unedited Transcript by Frances A. Copeland Transcribing Service

Alfred Smith 1

Armfield: Today is August 2, 1994, and I’m Felix Armfield, the interviewer, and

I’m about to interview Mr. Alfred James Smith at 522 Weeks Street in

New Iberia, Louisiana. Mr. Smith, would you state your full name for

the records, please.

Smith: My name is Alfred James Smith

Armfield: Okay. And, Mr. Smith, how long have you lived here in New Iberia?

Smith: Well, this is my home. I was born and breed here, went to school, to

the high school years, and …

Armfield: You actually finished high school?

Smith: Yes. I finished high school.

Armfield: And what year did you finish high school?

Smith: Oh God. That’s awful. I don’t remember right now.

Armfield: When were you born?

Alfred Smith 2

Smith: January 29, 1907.

Armfield: You were born January 29, 1907?

Smith: And in my elementary years I attended private school here. There’s

two sisters and their mother had a private school called Miss Daisy

Roberson’s Private School.

Armfield: Roberson?

Smith: Yeah.

Armfield: Okay.

Smith: And from there I went to Howell Institute.

Armfield: Howell.

Armfield: Is that called institute?

Alfred Smith 3

Smith: That was a school run by the Baptist associations of this state.

Armfield: Was your family Baptist or Catholic?

Smith: No, they were Baptist.

Armfield: You were Baptist?

Smith: Uh huh. And that school was located where the court house is over

here.

Armfield: Where the old court house building is now?

Smith: Well, we don’t call it the old court house building because that was

built over the last twenty years. It’s right over here on the railroad

track at Madison Avenue. That is the grounds, those grounds and

where that building is there is where Howell Institute was.

Armfield: Now Howell Institute, that was a black educational.

Alfred Smith 4

Smith: That was a black educational school run by the Baptist. The Baptist

Ministers Association had a lot to do with it, you know, uh huh.

Armfield: And what grades were at Howell Institute?

Smith: What grades?

Armfield: Yes sir.

Smith: Let me see now. I think we graduated at ninth grade, I think. If I

remember correctly. Yeah, ninth grade. Go up to the ninth grades.

Yeah.

Armfield: And once you finished at Howell Institute, in the ninth grade, where

did you go on to?

Smith: I went to Straight College in New Orleans.

Armfield: That’s where you finished high school?

Alfred Smith 5

Smith: I finished 12th grade there and two years of college there.

Armfield: You attended Howell Institute up until the ninth grade. Then after

you completed the ninth grade.

Smith: I went to New Orleans to school.

Armfield: Your family sent you to New Orleans.

Smith: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

Armfield: To continue your education?

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Of course to continue your education.

Smith: That’s right. Ninth, tenth, eleven, and twelfth grades.

Alfred Smith 6

Armfield: Tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grades. And that’s what you did at what

was called Straight College?

Smith: Yes.

Armfield: It was like a normal school.

Smith: It was a normal school. They had freshman college, sophomore, and

junior college also, you know, there, but I was in high school

department there.

Armfield: When did you finish up those high school years at Straight?

Smith: I don’t know. My memory is kind of bad. Frankly, I’ve forgotten.

I’m having trouble with my memory now.

Armfield: That’s okay. That’s okay. Now once you did finish your high school

years at Straight College, you went onto two more years of college.

Smith: Right.

Alfred Smith 7

Armfield: At Straight College.

Smith: Right.

Armfield: Okay. What was it like there at Straight College at that time?

Smith: Well, it was, you know it was an AMA school, American Missionary

Association school and it was very nice. I enjoyed it. I had no

problems there at all. The teachers were all good. I lived in the

boarding department there. They had a man’s dormitory and a lady’s

dormitory, you know. That is located on Canal Street, Canal and

Rosherblade.

Armfield: And this was around the 1920s?

Smith: Let me see now.

Armfield: Somewhere in the 1920s.

Alfred Smith 8

Smith: Let me see. Let me see. Around ’20, ’21, ’22. Somewhere along in

that area there, you know, as far as I can remember.

Armfield: Now how did you manage to get to New Orleans? Your family

afforded you financially.

Smith: Uh huh.

Armfield: Now what did your parents do here in New Iberia.

Smith: Well, my father and mother lived in Orange, Texas, but I spent most

of my time here in New Iberia with my grandmother. My

grandmother partly raised me. I’d go back and forwards, but most of

my schooling was done in Louisiana here. I think I went to school

two years in Orange, Texas. It was in the 5th or 6th grade if I can

remember correctly.

Armfield: But for the most part it was here.

Smith: But it was here in Louisiana. Right here in New Iberia.

Alfred Smith 9

Armfield: With your grandmother.

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Now what did your grandmother do for a living.

Smith: She was just a housewife. She didn’t work out nowhere. Sometimes

she had certain white families here, a couple of doctor’s families she

would do laundry at home for, you know. They liked for her to do

their white shirts and she could turn out – they was wearing those stiff

collars at the time. I don’t think you know anything about that. But

she could turn them out same as a China man. So she had one or two

doctors here that she used to do work at home for them. Yeah, yeah.

Just one or two. Not no large amount, just one or two doctors. But

she never worked out no where.

Armfield: Were there other children in the home with your grandmother and

you?

Alfred Smith 10

Smith: No, I only had one brother and I’m about eight years older than him

and he always stayed in Orange, Texas, with my mother. He would

come down, but I spent most of my time here in New Iberia with my

grandmother cause I had a lot of friends in the neighborhood and

things like I, like I never did like Texas. I never did like Orange,

Texas. I went to school there though about two years, but I didn’t

care for it.

Armfield: You were pretty much sold on being with your grandmother.

Smith: That’s right. We had a large place. The house is still there on Field

Street. 427 Field Street.

Armfield: At 427 Field Street.

Smith: That’s right. And my grandmother, we had a lot of fruit trees on the

place there and my grandmother canned a lot of stuff, you know, and

we lived good. And I had a lot of friends. Also, my play mates and

friends were here in New Iberia round this area. I never did like

Orange, Texas much. And my reason for not liking it, when I first

Alfred Smith 11

went to Orange, my father went to Orange and started working there

and me and my mother went to Orange. I remember I was there

about, oh, less than a year and it was a bad place for black people that

Orange, Texas.

Armfield: What made it bad for black people?

Smith: Well, the first thing that greeted me, that I remember that really stuck

in my mind was a black man hung by his neck on one of the streets in

Orange. They was very hard on black people there. And there were

times the train’d go through there and the Jim Crow car they’d throw

bricks, knock the glasses out, you know. Shoot in the cars. Some of

the cars that a way, you know . It was a real rough place for blacks at

that time.

Armfield: Now was your grandmother a real church woman, religious?

Smith: Well she wasn’t over zealous at that, you know. She’d go to church

and things of that kind, but she wasn’t a fanatic with that, but she was,

she belonged to the Eastern Star Lodge.

Alfred Smith 12

Armfield: What do you mean by the Eastern Star Lodge?

Smith: Well, that’s a women’s branch of the Masonic. My grandfather was a

Mason and my daddy was a Mason. My grandmother was Eastern

Star. That’s a women branch of the Masonic Lodge. She was

treasurer of that for years.

Armfield: What kind of things are your earliest memories of your community

and neighborhood here in New Iberia in those early years.

Smith: Well, the community was good and back at that time it was what you

call not integrated because they had white families living in the block

with us and behind us, the street behind us, and things of that kind.

They all got along very well together. Better than they do now, in my

opinion, because I had infantile paralysis when I was five years old.

And we had white neighbors in the next block from us and on the side

street from us. Incidentally, I was born and grew up at 427 Field

Street. That house is still standing, my grandmother’s place at 427

Field Street. And when you had sickness in the family anything of the

Alfred Smith 13

kind the white people came in and then helped, you know. They were

very neighborly. They got along better then I think in a way, in a

neighborly fashion than what they do now with the exception of

probably certain cases.

Armfield: So in essence your childhood neighborhood was rather integrated.

Smith: Oh yeah. It was mixed. It was mixed. The blacks were in the

majority, but we had a few families within a half a block of us, you

know, and so on that away and they all got along together. If one

family had sickness or something of the kind, cause hospitals, I don’t

know if they had, during that time there was no hospital here in New

Iberia. You had to go to New Orleans.

Armfield: All the way to New Orleans?

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Not even in Lafayette?

Alfred Smith 14

Smith: Not to my knowledge. I don’t remember nobody. That I don’t know.

But anybody who had to be hospitalized back at that time they went to

New Orleans, you know.

Armfield: Now how is it that you got to be so fortunate to live with your grand-

parents?

Smith: I always would rather be with my grandparents than with my father

and mother for the simple reason.

Armfield: Were you born here in New Iberia?

Smith: I was born here in New Iberia. You see.

Armfield: And your parents left?

Smith: Yeah. Later on my daddy moved to Orange, Texas, and I didn’t like

Texas at all. And I always could, because most of my playmates and

friends and things were here in New Iberia, you know. And, I was

Alfred Smith 15

very fond of my grandfather and my grandmother. And my

grandfather worked in the woods, in the swamp most of the time.

Armfield: Now what did he do out there.

Smith: Well, he trapped. He caught, and trees. You take here on Main Street

as you go on Main Street, going east on Main Street, all those large

oak trees and things you see on those old houses there - we used to

have storms here sort of regular in September. Well, most of those

white people there would wait for Uncle Jimmy. That’s what they

called my grandfather. He would always cut those trees, top them.

Nobody could touch those trees and top them but him because the

limbs are all over those old houses, mansions and things, downtown.

They wouldn’t trust nobody to do that but him. And he’d come in

town. We used to have storms here regularly in September and

around August 15th he would be busy. They’d have him busy

trimming, cutting limbs off of trees or cutting down trees that would

threaten their residences.

Armfield: Preparing for the storm.

Alfred Smith 16

Smith: That’s right. He was noted for that. All those old mansion you see

down Main Street going east.

Armfield: And as a youngster would you tag along?

Smith: Oh, a lot of times. Yeah. He’d be working down there and I’d do

down there to take his dinner or his lunch in a bucket, you know. And

I remember one incident. The house was high off the ground, you

know, and this September, because we used to have storms here the

later part of September and everybody wanted their trees trimmed and

any limbs that was threatening the house they wanted them cut off and

thing like that, you know. I went to take my grandfather’s dinner to

him. It was a high house off the ground and it started drizzling rain,

getting cool and the white lady came out and said, Jimmy - my

grandfather was named James Smith and they called him Jimmy -

Jimmy, you and that boy get out of that rain. It’s drizzling rain out

there and the weather’s turning cool. You’ll catch your death of cold

there. Get under, it was a high house, get under the house with Rover.

Alfred Smith 17

He ain’t going to bother you. Not come in the house or get on the

porch, but go under the house with Rover.

Armfield: Now who was Rover?

Smith: That’s the dog.

Armfield: Isn’t that something.

Smith: Go under the house with Rover. It was a high house. It was off the

ground, you know. We sit down under there until the showers

stopped, you know.

Armfield: But you said you were not even asked to come and sit on the porch or

as you were saying you weren’t asked to come inside.

Smith: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. In most cases a lot of times though

they would, you’d go on the porch or go in the kitchen, you know,

cause they had colored servants, cooks would stay in the kitchen.

Well, in the kitchen, they’d fix a big plate of food for you, you know,

Alfred Smith 18

but this particular incident stuck in my mind. Jimmy, you and that

boy get out of that rain. You going to catch your death of cold. Get

under the house with Rover. This house was high off the ground.

Rover was a big Airedale dog.

Armfield: Would the dog bother you?

Smith: No. Uh uh. The dog didn’t bother you.

Armfield: So I assume you ran into those kinds of situations?

Smith: Yeah, but on a whole the blacks and the whites got along better with

less friction than they do now, cause right here, this house here. Miss

Simon and her family lived here. She grew up here in this house and

there’s white people across the street was there and white people lived

down the street, you know. And one thing about ‘em, they didn’t

utilize hospitals like they do now. If there was sickness or something

in the house, the whites would come in and help with the sick patients.

Sit up with them all night. In fact there was more cooperation then I

think and better comradeship than what it is now.

Alfred Smith 19

Armfield: So basically the community took on the health care concerns.

Smith: Oh yeah. Oh yeah. They helped each other, you know. If one had

sickness, they all pitched in and helped - white and black.

Armfield: When you finally do leave the area to go on to New Orleans and

you’re fairly young when you go to New Orleans I would think.

You’re about 15, 16.

Smith: Yes, along in that. Along in that bracket. I disremember now.

Armfield: What are your initial impressions of New Orleans when you get there,

at that young age.

Smith: At that young age? Well, that was my first time a going there and I

was real excited about it, you know, cause New Orleans was a real

exciting place, had the carnival, you know, parades and all that kind

of stuff, you know. The big city street cars and that situation. Here in

New Iberia they had a trolley car that ran from New Iberia to

Alfred Smith 20

Jeanerette. Jeanerette is about 12 miles east from here. And I was

talking down to the court house with a couple of lawyers, young

lawyers, and I was telling them about the trolley car. The trolley car

made about six trips a day to Jeanette which is about 12 miles from

here. And usually three or four times a week the trolley car would

wreck, run off the track or separate the cars. One of them lawyers

said, you know, you ought to have heard my grandfather say the same

thing. But it did. That trolley line didn’t survive very long, cause I

went to Texas and I come back then they had took it up. It used to run

on Main Street from New Iberia to Jeanerette which is just about 12

miles.

Armfield: Now, again, when you were in New Orleans after you had been in

high school when you left did you come back to New Iberia?

Smith: No. No. After I finished high school there I stayed on there and did

my freshman year and sophomore year at college, see.

Armfield: Okay. And what are you studying? What are you studying in those

years of college?

Alfred Smith 21

Smith: Well, my main interest was music, cause I started taking music

lessons when I was about, oh, about nine years old.

Armfield: So you started taking music lessons relatively young.

Smith: Yeah, nine or ten years old, cause I had a very good music teacher

here. Mr. Ed Readum. He’s a violinist. This was about, that is the

first instrument I tackled. I studied the violin under him and when I

went to school in New Orleans I studied under Professor Nicholson.

He had a daughter, Camille Nicholson, that taught at Overland

Conservatory. I studied the violin under him quite awhile.

Armfield: And that was Professor Nicholson?

Smith: Yeah.

Armfield: Who was your teacher here?

Smith: Ed Readum.

Alfred Smith 22

Armfield: Ed Readum.

Smith: That was my first music teacher, the violin. I studied the violin. They

had a very good orchestra here. The Banner Orchestra was the name

of it.

Armfield: And who was your teacher again when you got to New Orleans before

I forget.

Smith: Professor Nicholson. He had a daughter by the name of Camille

Nicholson who taught at the Overland Conservatory.

Armfield: Over at the Overland Conservatory, okay. Now what you were saying

about your first lessons here.

Smith: Was the violin. Studied under Ed Readum who was my instructor. At

that time New Iberia had an excellent orchestra about nine or ten

pieces. They kept busy. They played mostly to whites, all the big

Alfred Smith 23

white society dances in the country they play. Ed Readum was the

leader of that band. That was my first music teacher.

Armfield: Now was this a black man?

Smith: Yeah. Uh huh.

Armfield: What was it that gave you this great love of music?

Smith: I don’t know. They tell me even as a child four or five years old if I

heard any music my foot went to tapping. And as I grew up, got

older, well I changed from the violin to the saxophone. I played tenor

saxophone. Then I went into the dance orchestra musician. Well, the

saxophones came in and things of that then they kind of knocked the

violins out, you know. I do special numbers sometimes on the violin,

you know. In the waltz category, you know. But I played tenor

saxophone. My first, oh, I’d say, my first professional job, I met a

young man. Well, I knew of this man long before I left here to go to

college. He was a band, the name of it was Louisiana Black Devil

Band. Black Devil Band. They come from Plaquemines, Louisiana,

Alfred Smith 24

and they were one of the outstanding dance bands in this area. And,

whenever they would come to town, if I was in town here I would go

to hear them play. And when I got in New Orleans in Straight

College one of the young men students there he was from

Plaquemines, where this band, you know, was head quartered.

Plaquemines, Louisiana. And, I got to talking with him about the

band and he said he knew all the fellows in the band because he was

from that little town, you know. So, he said, yeah. He knew all the

fellows in the band. Joe Walker was the manager of the band and

Theo Kern a friend of his daddy’s. So that summer just before school

closed he contacted the fellows in Plaquemines, Black Devil fellows

in Plaquemines tell them about me and that I would be interested in

working with them during the summer if they had openings. So they

added another saxophone which made a full section with me and after

school closed I toured with them that summer. I worked all the

summer with them and that was my first professional, you know, job.

Armfield: Okay. ( )

Smith: Oh yeah.

Alfred Smith 25

Armfield: And where did you tour and what were your ( ).

Smith: Mostly around in the Louisiana area, you know, and this Louisiana

area with the white people’s a great dance place. That was Saturday

night dances, you know, and Sunday dances and things of that kind.

These Cajuns, you know. And the Black Devil Band had a good

reputation. They played a lot of white dances, mostly white dances,

you know. So during the summer while I was on vacation I had an

opportunity to work with them. The manager, business manager of

that outfit’s name was Joe Walker. And I got along fine with them.

They wanted me to stay on with them. I told them no. I had to go

back to school in September, you know.

Armfield: Why were they called the Louisiana Black Devils?

Smith: That is the name they give them. I don’t know. God knows. I don’t

know.

Armfield: But you played with the Louisiana Black Devil Band?

Alfred Smith 26

Smith: Yeah.

Armfield: As you were touring throughout Louisiana, what happened when you

were on the road. Could you stay anywhere you wanted to?

Smith: No. That’s a good question. Back in those times you couldn’t go in

no hotel. There was no hotel or nothing for you to get a room in, of

the kind. Now I’ll give you an example.

Armfield: Now I assume we’re talking about still the 1920s here.

Smith: Oh yeah. In the ‘20s. Up until.

Armfield: But during the time that you were traveling with them.

Smith: During the time I was traveling you couldn’t even get no

accommodations around here.

Armfield: ( ) you did that tour with them. That was in the 1920s wasn’t it?

Alfred Smith 27

Smith: Yeah. Yeah. You take all that. Early ‘20s up until say the early ‘30s,

accommodations was very bad for blacks anywhere. The hotels

between here and New Orleans you couldn’t get no room or nothing

there. You had to stay at somebody’s private house, had an extra

room, they’d take you in or some that away. That was all the way

around. I left for, when I finally left New Orleans I went to Jackson,

Tennessee, and I worked with Johnny Brown’s band out of Jackson,

Tennessee. Now we toured all through Tennessee, the northern edge

of Mississippi, Cairo, Illinois and around in that area there and there

wasn’t no accommodations nowhere there for colored. Somebody had

a large rooming house, you understand. They was glad to take you in

to make that extra money, you know, or something of the kind, but

there was no hotel accommodations for blacks at all. At some of

those, we’ve played dances, had white dances at hotels and things of

that kind and we couldn’t go up to the dance floor on the elevator pass

the elevator. We had to go around through the alley and go on the

freight elevator to bring the slop and stuff. That’s right. Things are

all together different now in the world. For instance, I went into, let’s

see, it was Birmingham? I think it was Birmingham. I was with

Alfred Smith 28

Johnny Brown’s band out of Jackson, Tennessee. We was playing a

white dance there and a black dance there. The school teachers had a

club and we was playing a dance for them and we was playing a white

dance there. So as we were getting, driving into town I saw a big

laundry, you know, and we’d been out about ten days on the road and

I had about, I had four white shirts I wanted laundered. We was going

to be there two days. I’d put them in special and I’d be able to get

them the next day, you know. So after we got to the rooming house

and thing of the card, I would walk back about five blocks where I

passed this laundry. So I opened the door and walked on in, had these

shirts wrapped up, and the man in the laundry he saw me come in the

door and he was standing looking out the window. I stood there a

good five minutes. He come there. What you want? I said I have.

Armfield: Now this was happening where?

Smith: This was in Birmingham, Alabama.

Armfield: Okay.

Alfred Smith 29

Smith: So I say I have, I think I had four white shirts, I said I’d like to put

these white shirts in special for I can get them tomorrow evening

some time before you close. He looked at me. He said you must be

with that nigger band that’s playing at such and such hotel tonight.

We was playing the white dance first. Then the next night we was

playing the colored dance. I said, yeah, that’s right. Johnny Brown’s

band out of Jackson, Tennessee. He said, well, look. We don’t do

nigger laundry here and he said, come, I’ll show you where to go. He

walked me to the door. He said see, go down there next block and

turn right. There’s a chink laundry in the middle of the block. That’s

where the niggers carry their clothes.

Armfield: Are you kidding?

Smith: It was tough back in that time.

Armfield: How did you respond to him?

Smith: Well, there was nothing for me to do. He wasn’t going to take my

shirts and I had four or five white shirts I wanted laundered. We was

Alfred Smith 30

going to be there two days you see and I’d put them in special. So I

went to find the China man. We don’t do them. He looked at me and

said, that’s right. You with one of the bands that’s playing. The band

that’s playing at such and such hotel tonight. He said, well, look. We

don’t take nigger clothes here. Come here I’ll show you. Walked to

the door. See, go down there and make a right turn to that next corner

and in the middle of the next block there’s a chink laundry that

niggers can take clothes there. Lord, I’m telling you. Things are good

now to what they used to be for blacks, you know. There was no

accommodations for you at all. Colored people had rooming houses

and things of the kind. Some of them was nice and some of them

were rougher. Some of them was hardly fit for a dog to go in, but

what you going to do.

Armfield: You were telling me about some particular individuals on Saturday at

the barber’s when we initially met, telling me about Bunk Johnson.

Smith: Yeah, Bunk Johnson. That’s a big trumpet player

Armfield: And what was the other gentleman’s name? Gus Fartney.

Alfred Smith 31

Smith: Gus Fartney and Gus Fartney was manager of the band here in New

Iberia, the Banner Orchestra here, was the name of the orchestra here.

Very good band. The violin player was my first music teacher.

Armfield: Did you ever play with Bunk Johnson and Gus Fartney.

Smith: No. No. I never did play with their orchestra or the band here. I was

always out of town going, you know, cause later I was in

Donaldsonville awhile when school closed.

Armfield: You went where?

Smith: Donaldsonville. That’s where the Black Devil Band was head

quarters was at the time.

Armfield: And that’s here in Louisiana?

Smith: In Louisiana. Yeah. Yeah. That’s about 70 miles from here.

Alfred Smith 32

Armfield: Okay.

Smith: When I left school, I joined Victor’s band out of Baton Rouge. That

was a large traveling orchestra, 12 piece band, large band.

Armfield: And you were still playing the saxophone?

Smith: Oh yeah. Yeah. And by that band, Victor’s band, we played a lot of

LSUs. Students for LSU ( ). We went on football trips with them.

Armfield: That’s were you were telling me you encountered Huey P. Long?

Smith: Yeah. Yeah. That was early ‘30s. Yeah. Yeah, old Huey.

Armfield: Now what are some of your memories of the kind of encounters with

Huey P. Long?

Smith: With Huey P. Long?

Armfield:. Did you and he have a decent relationship?

Alfred Smith 33

Smith: Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. He talked to me. I tell you what he used

to do. We used to play, whenever we played at Baton Rouge, white

dances at Baton Rouge, if he was in town before he got to going back

and forward to Washington and things of the card, he would always

be there cause a lot of the LSU students was there. A lot of times

their clubs we played for, you know, and things of the card, and he

knew all, cause we played quite a few, most of their dances and all.

He knew all of us by name, first names. He was all right. He was

kind of rough at the edges, you know. He was no college graduate or

deck of cards. He do okay. He did a lot for Louisiana. All these

good roads, highways and bridges, and pick of the card. He’s

responsible for that. Cause a hog would get bogged on these

highways and things. I’m telling you. I’ll give you an example of

what I’m talking about. In north Louisiana there’s the Red River

going up to Bunkie and around that area. They didn’t have no

bridges. They’d have to cross on a ferry and some old white guy he

would have a little barge that would hold about two cars, you

understand, and a four or five cylinder boat that would pull that barge

across the river, hook on to side and guide it across the river, you

Alfred Smith 34

know. And sometimes he may charge you $5 a car to cross. If he’s in

a good humor, he may charge you $3 a car. Whatever he wanted you

had to pay to cross. That was particularly at that Red River up in

north Louisiana. And all these nice bridges and highways and things

now you see was started by Huey Long. Negroes couldn’t register to

vote or nothing until he made it possible.

Armfield: Now what did he do to make that possible?

Smith: Well, he was governor. After he got to be governor of Louisiana his

word was law. They used to call him the king fish. You might have

heard of that.

Armfield: Huey “King Fish” Long.

Smith: That’s right. That’s right. I’m telling you. He really pulled Louisiana

out of the hole. For years I heard them talk about putting a bridge

across the Mississippi River in New Orleans and that bridge wasn’t

built until Huey Long got to be governor and think of the time he said

I’m going to build, everybody come out of the corner. It’s too strong.

Alfred Smith 35

The water too. He said, I just got damn ( ) fixed. The current is too

strong. No bridge can be put across the Mississippi River here in New

Orleans. The current is too strong and the water is too deep and it’s

either too wet. God damn it, I’m going to put a bridge across there if I

have to send to England and get some engineers. And he did too. If

I’m not mistaken now, I think some engineers from France he got

come here and put that bridge, the foundation of that bridge and thing

down. And he cussed, he cussed out Tulane College, University.

Ya’ll call yourself and you ain’t got no engineers turned out. Talking

about the water too wet or either the current is too strong. God damn

it. I’m going to put a bridge here. So he got that bridge put there.

He’s the one, that bridge was going into New Orleans was his project.

Armfield: Well, isn’t that the bridge’s name? Huey P. Long Bridge there.

Smith: I think it is. I think it is. I done forgot. Yeah, he’s the one put that

bridge there, you know.

Armfield: Now you were telling me a couple of stories on Saturday as we sat

and sort of chit chatted at the barber shop and unfortunately we didn’t

Alfred Smith 36

have the tape recorder on, but I hope you can recall telling me about

what would happen when you all would go and try to register to vote

or even attempted to vote.

Smith: Oh, yeah, yeah. That’s right. Right at the registration office.

Armfield: What would happen? What was that primarily like?

Smith: They’d take the card. They wouldn’t refuse you the card to fill out,

you know.

Armfield: They would not refuse the card?

Smith: No, no, no. They’d give it to you, but all they ask for there was your

name, your address, you age, you know, what year you was born in,

your birthday and they’d take the card and look. And I stood there

one day, I was there to try to register too, Dr. Segood.

Armfield: Now this was in New Orleans.

Alfred Smith 37

Smith: Yeah, that was in New Orleans. He was in line. Then Dr. Taylor

behind, and then me behind Dr. Taylor. You can’t tell me Dr. Segood

and Dr. Taylor they got to fill out that registration card, all that’s on

there.

Armfield: In the early ‘30s?

Smith: Oh yeah, that was during the ‘30s. You know. All they asked you

was your name and address and just ordinary things which the average

person who could read and write, would know, you know. A guy’d

take it, look at it, nope. Error on here. Tear it up and they wouldn’t

give you another card ( ). Come back again. Do all that kind of stuff

to intimidate you. And, so about, oh, about three or four weeks after

that I was back in Baton Rouge and we were playing a white dance

there and Huey was there. He came there and come up on the band

stand. He knew all of us by first name.

Armfield: Who was this?

Alfred Smith 38

Smith: Huey Long. He came up on the bandstand, talked with us pick of the

card and I was telling him about that. He said, you mean to tell me,

said well, hell, it ain’t nothing. You mean to tell me Dr. Taylor or Dr.

Segood can’t fill out one of them cards. Said, well, they filled it out.

The man tore it up. I was right there. He said, all right. I’m going to

see about that. We’ll put a stop to that.

Armfield: You got registered after that?

Smith: Oh yeah, yeah. Got registered. But I’ll tell you what he did. He put,

he called out a company of the state militia and put them in the

registration office. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but about a

week or so after that I went back there one day and there was one

sitting in the window with a rifle across his shoulder, two standing in

the door you had to go through and one standing at the counter right at

the registration office. I said, well, well, well. He made it possible

for Negroes to register and vote. He made it possible. He did a lot of

good for the city, the state rather, in my opinion.

Alfred Smith 39

Armfield: What was the other situation that you mentioned to me where he

wrote a letter to someone and you were able to get that job.

Smith: Oh, oh, oh, oh yeah, yeah. Well, when I left Baton Rouge, left

Victor’s band because I was half sick and I was having a lot of

problems and he told me, I told him, I said well, governor, he was

talking about one of the big football games that he wanted the band to

go to Vanderbilt. I said, well, I ain’t going to be with you all on that

trip. I say I’m leaving. He say what the matter, Vic ain’t treating you

right? I said no, no, it ain’t Vic, and I explained to him my condition,

pick of the cards. So he said, well, you got a family haven’t you. I

said I got a wife and one child. Said well, you’re going to need

something to do, a job. Said when you planning to go. I said, oh, not

before, I got two more weeks here with Vic. He said, well, you

remind me of it before you go. I’m going to give you a letter to give

Mr. Gindrick, the personnel director of Charity Hospital. He’ll give

you something to do, because you got to have something to do,

income of some kind, you know.

Armfield: At the Charity Hospital?

Alfred Smith 40

Smith: That’s right. Charity Hospital. So he did. I got a job there - through

him. Every time he would come to New Orleans, pass through New

Orleans he’d stop there. That was the old Charity Hospital. They

hadn’t built this hospital here, you know. When ever he’d come

through there, he’d always come there, you know, and go around the

place there and pick of the card, nursing office and ask for me and

them sisters say, Alfred, go change that uniform. Put on a clean

uniform. I said, Sister, I just got this uniform yesterday. Don’t argue

with me, man. Them Catholic sisters. They learned you how to work

though. They worked their selves and they will learn you how to

work. They know what it’s all about. Any hospital that you go to

those Catholic sisters’ run you got good attention there. They really

know their business.

Armfield: Tell me about the scenario that you told me about. How you walked

in the office and the woman, says, well, we ain’t got no work.

Smith: I walked in there, in the office. We not hiring nobody today, boy.

Well, Huey Long just had turned down, you know, his strategy was

Alfred Smith 41

this, to get them, he made it possible for Negroes to register and vote.

But to make everybody vote the way he wanted them to pick of the

card, especially them white people. They let out a gang of them.

They fired a gang of them.

Armfield: At Charity?

Smith: That’s right and everybody was scared of losing their job. Those were

jobs that he controlled, the state jobs too, you see. Then he took them

back with the understanding that they’d vote for him, you know.

That’s why he had such a following. If he hadn’t been assassinated,

he had a damn good chance of becoming president of the United

States, in my opinion. I really believe that.

Armfield: Okay. Now what happened when you took the letter to the people at

Charity.

Smith: I walked into the office, personnel office. Old white gal sitting there

at the desk in the outer office, you know. So I walk in. Boy, we not

hiring nobody. I said, lady, I didn’t come here to get burned. I got a

Alfred Smith 42

letter here. Give that to Mr. Gindrick. This is from Governor Long.

She’d look at the letter with the seal stamp on it caught her eyes.

She’d run in the back office, give it to this little Cajun back there, you

know and them was political jobs, you know. Give it to him. So after

awhile he come to the door. You Alfred? I said, yes sir. Come in

Alfred. Come in. Come in. I didn’t know what the hell Long had on

that letter. He took the letter and he read it. He said Governor Long

thinks very well of you. I said yes sir, I know. So he told his

secretary, said take this boy over to Sister Colette and tell her to give

him a job. Give him something to do. So the girl took, follow me.

She, her expression, everything had changed then, you know. Walked

in there, Sister Colette, Mr. Gindricks, told me to bring this boy over

here. I’ve had enough of them lazy boys here now. I don’t need

nobody. The girl said, well, look, Mr. Gindricks said this boy was

sent here by Governor Long. Governor Long said to put him on the

payroll. Mr. Gindricks said put him on the payroll if he just got to

hold your beads, your prayer beads, and walk around with them. So

that was that. Lord, have mercy.

Alfred Smith 43

SIDE B

Armfield: Did you serve in the war?

Smith: No. No. Cause I had a disability, you know. I had polio when I was

five years old. I am trying to think how many years I stayed at

Charity Hospital. Did I tell you?

Armfield: No, you didn’t. Did you retire from there?

Smith: No, I didn’t retire. I just left, decided to leave New Orleans. I went to

New York.

Armfield: Went to New York. And when did you leave New Orleans to go to

New York?

Smith: Wait a minute. I think that was ’44, about ’44. My memory ain’t too

good these days. I went to New York and with my hospital

experience and thank God, I got a job right away at Montiferal

Alfred Smith 44

Medical Center and I stayed there about seven years I think, if I

remember correctly. That’s where I got a chance to go into the

nursing field.

Armfield: Into the nursing field?

Smith: Yeah, I got a New City licensed practical nurse.

Armfield: Okay. So you actually did nursing - in New York.

Smith: In New York, yeah.

Armfield: Now how many years did you remain in New York, Mr. Smith.

Smith: Oh, Lord. Let me see. Somewhere around, let me see now. I stayed

in New York about seven or eight years. Or eight or nine years. One,

because I came here when I retired. I came on down here. I was there

a good eight or nine years. My memory is kind of fuzzy now, you

know.

Alfred Smith 45

Armfield: At some point I think you said to me that you spent some time in

Chicago as well.

Smith: Oh yeah. That was in the earlier years. That was back in the ‘30s.

That was back in the ‘30s.

Armfield: Now what were you doing back in Chicago. Were you playing music

at that time?

Smith: As a side line. I had went to Chicago and I went to school there, to a

business school there. I used to do Gregg shorthand and I won a

couple of metals in typewriting, the Underwood Company and the

Royal Company, pick of the cards, you know. My mother always

wanted me to prepare myself to do office work. Back in that time

Negroes ain’t had no business. The Negro insurance company was a

family set up, you understand. You had as much chance getting a job

in there as swimming the Mississippi River backwards, you

understand? But to please them I just went along and took it, you see,

but if it hadn’t been for my musical ability that’s where I got my

income from because there was a time I could do Gregg shorthand at,

Alfred Smith 46

I’d say at, oh, about 80 words a minutes. But, getting a job, if you’re

in that area there white people wasn’t hiring Negroes into their

business in that area and the Negro business, the Negro insurance

company thing was a family affair. You understand? So I had to fall

back on my music for a livelihood. I never did, you know. I knew it

was a lost cause, but in order to just not contrary my mother and them,

you know, I just went along the deal, you know. Cause the only

Negroes was working in offices then was probably relatives of these

big old insurance concerns, you know, and that was a family set up.

You didn’t have much of a chance getting in there, you know.

Armfield: When you did return to New Iberia, what kind of New Iberia did you

return to as opposed to the New Iberia that you had left many years

earlier?

Smith: Oh well. There was quite a bit of improvement. Not a whole lot,

because this was always a close community with the white and the

blacks, you understand. Cause you take this street here. This family

here, Miss Simon here, her family always lived in this house here, you

understand. And the next door there that house there was for the Cape

Alfred Smith 47

family. That was a colored family, but across the street where this

office building is there was white families there. There’s a white

family right there that was very good friends to Miss Simon here and

if they could help in any way they did. We never had, I don’t

remember any friction between the white and the blacks when I was a

kid growing up here.

Armfield: Do you think that perhaps then because for the most part black people

knew their place?

Smith: That was partly that too, but these Cajuns they were always, they all

got along together with the blacks. For instance hospitals weren’t

popular then at that time. Most people died at home and they stayed

sick at home, pick of the cards, and if a black family had somebody

very sick at the home the white neighbors would come in and help

with him or sit up at night with and pick of the cards, you know.

Because I had polio when I was five years old and my grandmother

had white friends in the neighborhood who would come there and

help with me, and sit up with me, and pick of the cards, you know.

Alfred Smith 48

Cause at that time the only time you went into a hospital you went in

there to die. People thought that, you know.

Armfield: Did you have any black doctors in town in those earlier days?

Smith: Well, back at that time we had one black doctor that I know. Dr.

Welch. T. L. Welch. A Dr. Welch was the first black doctor I know

of. Then there’s a Dr. Easter, another black doctor. Dr. Easter’s the

one vaccinated me for smallpox. They had a smallpox epidemic here.

Yeah, they had two black doctors to my remembrance. Dr. Easter and

Dr. Welch.

Armfield: Okay. Dr. Easter. Dr. Welch.

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Now was either of them a female or they both were?

Smith: They both were male doctors. It was two black male doctors.

Alfred Smith 49

Armfield: And how long did they stay here in Iberia?

Smith: Oh, I left them here when I went to New Orleans to school. And,

shortly, my first year in school in New Orleans my grandfather died. I

came back here for his funeral and my grandmother stayed here, oh,

she probably stayed here about eight or nine months afterwards. And

she left and went to Orange, Texas to live with my mother.

Armfield: Now these were your mother’s parents that you were living with?

Smith: That’s right. That’s right. That’s right.

Armfield: And that’s when you gave up the family home here in the area.

Smith: Yes. My grandmother she moved on to Orange, Texas with my

mother and she rented the place out. The house is still standing. 427

Field Street. Big white house. It’s still standing. My grandmother

rented it out for a couple of years.

Armfield: Does that mean you still own the property?

Alfred Smith 50

Smith: No. No. A couple of years and the people’s tear up the property so

she finally sold it. She sold it before she died. And that house is still

standing there. 427 Field Street. It’s near the corner of Coread. This

side of Bankers. Now the house next to it that house wasn’t there then

cause all that property that land there went with my grandmother’s

house, went with the 427 Field Street house. My grandmother, after

she moved to Texas with my mother.

Armfield: And this was after you left here to go to New Orleans?

Smith: Oh yeah, oh yeah. All that happened after, let’s see. My grandfather

died. I was still in school in New Orleans. I think I was in my second

year there, cause they sent for me to come home and the next day after

I got here he died. Cause I always stayed with my grandmother and

my grandfather both. So I stayed with my mother in Orange, I didn’t

like Orange, Texas. All my friends were here and I didn’t like

Orange, Texas. Orange was a hell of a place there. You could go out

there in the water and see a Negro hanging by his neck in Orange.

That was a lynch mob place, that Orange, Texas. That’s the town, as

Alfred Smith 51

soon as you leave Lake Charles, Louisiana, about 40 miles you get

over into Texas. The first town in the state of Texas, Orange, Texas.

I never did like that. I went to school one or two years there and I

came back here, because I never did like Orange, Texas. Never did

like Orange, Texas.

Armfield: Now do you recall anyone in particular that you knew of that was

lynched while you were growing up here in New Iberia?

Smith: No. We never had that here in New Iberia. I tell you.

Armfield: In the surrounding areas?

Smith: Well, if I’m not mistaken I heard my grandmother, my grandmother

talking about they lynched a colored man in St. Martinville. That’s

about 15 miles from here. But we never had that here. We always

had pretty fair peace before. I’ll give you an example. There was a

white man found dead on the railroad track, the railroad coming from

the salt mine, from Edward’s Island, New Iberia and a bunch of these

rabble rousing Cajuns here they got in the street looking for

Alfred Smith 52

somebody. They say there was a nigger killed a white man. That was

the expression. And, George Henderson, a white man by the name of

George Henderson was the sheriff here. He and my grandfather were

good friends. They used to hunt together when my grandpa would be

in town or my grandpa come into town he’d bring game, you know, to

Sheriff Henderson, thing of the card. And I remember that it was the

winter time. We were all sitting around there in one of the rooms.

Each room had a fireplace with a grate in it. We weren’t cold. And I

believe my grandmother was popping some pop corn or something

because when somebody knocked at the door it was Sheriff

Henderson. At the time, he and my grandfather were great friends and

they had arrested a colored fellow on suspicion of murder. A white

man was found murdered on the salt mine track out here, come from

the salt mine.

Armfield: Not the railroad track.

Smith: Huh? On the railroad track. Yeah, on the railroad track. So he came.

We were all sitting, it was the winter time. We was popping pop corn

and sitting there talking. He knocked at the door and my grandma

Alfred Smith 53

went to the door. So I heard my grandma say, come in, Sheriff.

Come in. We all here eating some pop corn. He come in. So he told

my grandpa. He said, Jim, I want you to do something. He said, you

know we found a white fellow killed on the salt mine track on the

railroad track there and these crazy Cajuns here they want to start

some trouble here. They figure some black man killed him and he

said the man wasn’t killed by no black man and they got a boy. I had

to arrest a boy and lock him up in jail for safe keeping. And he said

they trying to form a lynch mob. And he said what I’m going to do, I

just called Sheriff Motaw, the sheriff at Lafayette and telling him that

I’m going to, sneak him out of jail and send him there and I want you

to take him. He say I got a skiff, the jail still sits on the bayou ( ). He

said there’s a skiff I’ve got tied up behind the jail there. Now I’m

going to lower this guy out the jail on a rope he said because this boy

didn’t, I know this boy didn’t kill this white man, but these crazy

Cajuns here they just want some Negro to lynch. I’m not going to

have that here. So my grandpa reached up and got his Winchester

rifle and went and left with the sheriff. I was about, about, around

about six or seven years old. The winter time too. And the sheriff

turned this fellow over to my grandpa. My grandpa got into the skiff

Alfred Smith 54

behind the jail because the jail sits right on the bayou, still sits on the

bayou like it is there now and lowered him down in the skiff. He had

called the sheriff in Lafayette that he was sending this man there with

my grandfather for safe keeping, you know.

Armfield: Do you know whatever happened to the man?

Smith: No, I don’t remember. I don’t remember, cause I was about seven or

eight years old then. Cause this sheriff here said, Henderson, he said I

know that boy didn’t kill this man. He said but these Cajuns all drunk

and they wants a lynching. I ain’t going to have that here. So how it

ever come out I don’t know because I was just about, I must have

been about six years old or seven years old. But to my knowledge,

nothing like that never happened here. I understand they had

something like that happen in St. Martinsville. That’s a little town 16

miles from here, but we never had that here.

Armfield: Sounds like they were getting ready to lynch somebody that night.

Alfred Smith 55

Smith: Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, you know. A few drunk rabble-rousers, you

know, and Henderson was a good law enforcement officer. He’s a

sheriff that’s no nonsense.

Armfield: Henderson?

Smith: Yeah. Sheriff Henderson. You go in the lobby of the courthouse

over there. You know where the new courthouse building over there?

Armfield: Uh huh.

Smith: The lobby, you’ll see Sheriff Henderson on the wall, the picture all up

in the lobby there. I don’t know what you call them there.

Armfield: Okay. I think I’ll maybe get a chance to stop by there and see that

picture before I leave town. Okay, if you don’t have anything else

that you just particularly want to say.

Smith: That’s about, anything you got in mind, you got to remind me.

Alfred Smith 56

Armfield: What I’m going to do is I’m going to take the time to fill out this brief

paperwork with you to get your family history and as we talk, you

never know.

Smith: Yeah. Something will come up.

Armfield: Another story may come up, but we’ll keep the tape recorder running

and we’ll get your family history for the paperwork. Now your last

name is Smith.

Smith: Right.

Armfield: And your first name is?

Smith: Alfred.

Armfield: A-l-f-r-e-d.

Smith: Alfred J. Smith. J for James.

Alfred Smith 57

Armfield: Alfred J. Smith. The address here is 522.

Smith: Weeks Street.

Armfield: Weeks Street. And this is New Iberia?

Smith: New Iberia, Louisiana. Now my birthplace, where I was raised at is

…

Armfield: I’m going to ask you that.

Smith: Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

Armfield: We’re going to get to all of that. What’s your birth date?

Smith: January 29, 1907.

Armfield: January 29, 19.

Smith: 07.

Alfred Smith 58

Armfield: ‘07. Man, have you been blessed to be around quite awhile.

Smith: I’m going down hill gradually though. Old age has caught up with

me.

Armfield: I’ll be. You’ve just got a head cold. It’ll be okay.

Smith: Oh, got more than a head cold. My memory is bad. It’s better now

than in the last two weeks than it was a month ago.

Armfield: So you really have good days and bad days.

Smith: Oh yeah. I’m improved. My memory has improved a lot. I had some

very bad experience in New Orleans there with my family, my

daughter, you know, a thing of the card. These young people, you

know, they take advantage, a thing of the card. I’m going to let them

go so far and no further, you know, and that upset me quite a bit.

That’s why I left New Orleans and came on here. And Miss Simon

here, my friend, we been friends a long time, she gave me a place to

Alfred Smith 59

stay here, you know, and to recuperate and my doctors, Dr. Castello, I

knew him in New York. He practiced -- I was surprised when I come

and find him here. He was taking care of me, you know. So I’m

comfortable.

Armfield: I trusted ( ) strength. Now your place of birth. You were born?

Smith: New Iberia.

Armfield: In New Iberia.

Smith: 427 Field Street.

Armfield: And that’s Iberia Parish. And your principle occupation? You were a

musician.

Smith: I was a musician. And then in my later years, after I went to New

York, I went to nursing school and was LPN New York state licensed.

And I worked at Montiferal Medical Center nine years.

Alfred Smith 60

Armfield: Just hold off. I’m going to get that in just a few minutes. This phone

number here again is?

Smith: 364-3185. Let me look again. 365. I think that’s.

Armfield: 365-3187.

Smith: That’s it. That’s it. That’s it

Armfield: Now for the official records the materials that we are collecting from

you will be housed at Duke University in the archives. For the official

record you want your name to be listed as Alfred J. Smith or you want

to write out James.

Smith: You can just put Alfred J. Smith. Either one. It doesn’t make any

difference.

Armfield: Alfred J. Did you have a nickname of sorts?

Alfred Smith 61

Smith: Let me see. Yes, some of my boys I grew up around here with used to

call me Britt, B-r-i-t-t. I think they took that from some cowboy

picture long years ago.

Armfield: Local people, some of them know you as Britt?

Smith: Yeah. I think I’ve outlived all that old bunch though. My last friend

died here about eight months ago.

Armfield: Really. Now your marital status. Single, married, divorced or

widowed?

Smith: I’m divorced.

Armfield: What was your wife’s found name?

Smith: Well, my first wife’s name was Elizabeth Samson. Elizabeth Samson.

That’s my children’s mother.

Armfield: Okay. Sampson was her last name.

Alfred Smith 62

Smith: Uh huh. She’s a native of New Orleans.

Armfield: Is that S-a-m-p-s-o-n?

Smith: S-a-m-s-o-n. I think that’s the way she spells it. S-a-m-s-o-n.

Armfield: That’s spelled S-a-m-s-o-n?

Smith: Yes, uh huh.

Armfield: Okay. Did you remember her birth date?

Smith: No, I sure don’t.

Armfield: Is she alive?

Smith: No. She died. We separated and divorced. She remarried and she

died, let me see. Elizabeth died. She died since I retired and left New

Alfred Smith 63

York and came here. I can’t think of the date right now. I’d have to

look it up or call the kids and ask about it.

Armfield: Okay. Do you recall where she was born?

Smith: She was born here in New Orleans, in New Orleans.

Armfield: In New Orleans. That was one of the two you had.

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: And what was her occupation?

Smith: She was a nurse. She worked for Turow Infirmary. Obstetrics was

her specialty, cause at that time Turow, Negroes could go to Turow

Clinic, but they didn’t admit no Negroes into the hospitals as patients.

And her specialty was obstetrics. And say for instance, women who

went to Turow Clinic and come time for them to confine to have their

child, they had them at home. So my wife delivered them at home.

That was her job.

Alfred Smith 64

Armfield: Okay. So she was a traveling nurse.

Smith: Yeah.

Armfield: She went door to door.

Smith: Yeah. That’s right and her chief, her doctor who she worked under

was Dr. Avan. He was chief of obstetrics at Turow Infirmary.

Armfield: Dr. Avan. Was he in fact a black man or a white man?

Smith: No, he was a white man.

Armfield: Okay. Now what was your mother’s first name.

Smith: Well, mother’s first name was Alvertia, A-l-v-e-r-t-i-a. Alvertia

Smith. She was a Smith and married a Smith. Her maiden name was

Smith.

Alfred Smith 65

Armfield: She never changed her name. A-l-v-e-r-t-i-a.

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Now, and Smith was her maiden name?

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Okay. Do you recall your mother’s birth date?

Smith: I sure don’t.

Armfield: Okay. What about her death date?

Smith: Let me see now. I’m trying to think. Let me see. Just let me see. I

can’t remember it right now.

Armfield: Okay. What about your mother’s place of birth? Where was your

mother born?

Alfred Smith 66

Smith: New Iberia. My father’s home was New Iberia too.

Armfield: And your mother, what was your mother’s occupation?

Smith: She was a hair dresser at one time. She ran a beauty parlor at one

time.

Armfield: Your father’s first name?

Smith: Alfred.

Armfield: Alfred Smith I assume?

Smith: That’s right.

Armfield: Did he have a middle name?

Smith: No.

Armfield: Okay, and do you know your father’s birth date?

Alfred Smith 67

Smith: Uh, right off hand, no.

Armfield: Okay. Can you recall when he died?

Smith: Wait a minute. Let me put my hand on this. I think I got it written in

here.

Armfield: So you have your father’s birth date in your bible?

Smith: I’m not sure. My mother had a real large bible, you know.

Armfield: That’s okay. We only want what you know anyway and you don’t

remember your father’s birth date nor when he died, right?

Smith: No.

Armfield: Okay. And your father was from New Iberia also. And your father’s

occupation.

Alfred Smith 68

Smith: Worked at a saw mill, laborer.

Armfield: Day laborer. Did you have brothers and sisters?

Smith: I got one brother.

Armfield: Okay. And what was his name?

Smith: Hinton. H-i-n-t-o-n.

Armfield: H-i-n-t-o-n.

Smith: C for Clyde.

Armfield: Smith?

Smith: Smith.

Armfield: And what was your brother’s birth date?

Alfred Smith 69

Smith: I’m seven years older than him.

Armfield: And you were born in 1907. So he was born in 1914. Do you know

his birth date?

Smith: It was in the month of July I know, but right off hand I can’t.

Armfield: July 1914. Close enough. Is your brother still alive?

Smith: Oh yeah.

Armfield: Okay. And where was he born?

Smith: New Iberia. He grew up and went to school in Orange, Texas, you

know. I never did like Orange.

Armfield: And you were the, you were the first child, right?

Smith: I’m the first child. It’s only two of us.

Alfred Smith 70

Armfield: Now do you have children?

Smith: Yes. I have two sons and a daughter. My elder son died about, oh,

about a year and a half ago.

Armfield: Okay. Well, give me your children’s names in the order of their ages.

Smith: Okay. Anthony E. Smith. That’s my eldest, oldest boy. He died

about three years ago in Veteran’s Hospital. He was a 30 year veteran

in the army.

Armfield: All right. What’s your second child’s name?

Smith: Alfred S. Smith.

Armfield: And your youngest?

Smith: That’s my daughter. Mary. Mary Illa. Parkman. ( )

Alfred Smith 71

Armfield: Okay. Do you remember all three of your children’s birth dates, Mr.

Smith.

Smith: I sure don’t.

Armfield: Do you remember Anthony’s birth date, your oldest?

Smith: Wait a minute. Let’s see. I’m having sort of a memory lapse. Andy

was born in 19. I think I got that written down in another bible if I

can put my hand on the one I was looking for.

Armfield: Go ahead.

END OF INTERVIEW