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JAMES KERBY WARD
(Florida)
After I got off the Ortega bus I walked
four blocks that seemed like eight. My warm coat became warmer and heavier
as I ploughed through ankle-deep sand.
The Ward home on Shelby street in St. Johns] Park, the most carelessly
kept of all the houses on the block, had no garden, no lawn and no
flowers. A shaggy hedge of evergreen grew in the white sand that
surrounded the house.
Two cars were parked at the entrance and evidently the cause of the deep
ruts in the yard. The porch looked cool and inviting. The large chairs had
clean tie-backs and cushions on them; the morning paper was thrown
negligently on the couch-swing, and a smoking-stand nearby held a pipe.
All around the porch potted plants in cans and tubs bloomed vigorously;
the largest, a Christmas Cactus in full flower, grew sturdily in a
white-enameled slop-jar near the front door.
The door was open, and the screen stood ajar. I could see the family in
the dining room at their noon meal. Mr. Ward, a small, stout, gray man,
came to the door and invited me in.
"Mr. Whitfield told me somebody wanted me to give them a life story or
something. Mr. Whitfield's my superintendent. He's a mighty fine feller
and a good friend of mine too.'
I seated myself on a green divan, and he chose a matching easy chair and
started to talk.
"Well, to begin with I'm the poorest feller you ever saw about remembering
dates and such, my wife'll have to help out a lot, I imagine. She's got a
heap better mem'ry than me." He raised his voice a trifle and called to
his wife in the dining room, "Come in here, sweetheart, and set down a
minute." Turning to me, he said, "Her health ain't so good and it'll do
her good to rest a little, anyway."
Mrs. Ward, unusually stout and very pale, came in reluctantly.
"Sweetheart, this is Mrs. whad-y' say-the-name-was?"
"What did you say you wuz a-sellin," she asked me. "I'll just tell you we
had so much sickness lately that we ain't in no shape to buy nothin." At
that point her husband explained, "Mr. Whitfield wants me to give her my
life history, and I want you to help me out a little 'cause you know me
better than I know myself.
"A feller's wife usually does know more 'n the man does hisself about his
own life. We married a-way back in 1913 and that boy there was the oldest
one of the children that was not born here." He nodded to his son sitting
in the next room at the dining table. "He was born at Worthington Springs
21 years ago and we come to Jacksonville when he was a little feller."
"You came here in 1918 and you went to work for the Traction Company the
next day," Mrs. Ward interposed.
Mr. Ward continued: "A man didn't need no pull or nuthin in them days to
get a job. All he had to do was to use his own face. Business was good
then and jobs wuz plentiful. But I've seen times change with all kinds of
business since then. When times get hard the transportation suffers,
'cause people just don't ride like they do in good times. They get out and
walk where they want to go; and then, too, more people have bought cars
since I went to work for the company. Believe me we can tell you how good
business is all right, 'cause when times pick up people ride a-plenty.
"I been on the job steady ever since I started except when I get off a few
days to go up home to fish a little. I got a 100-acre farm at Worthington
Springs where I was born. That's not the place where I was really born and
raised. I was born at a little town called Lulu about 12 miles from Lake
City and that's my wife's home, too.
"Her ma and pa were friends of my pa and ma. We knew each other all our
lives just about, didn't we, sweetheart?"
Mrs. Ward was rocking rhythmically and seemed to be enjoying herself. She
smiled proudly and replied, "Yes, but we didn't go together but about [3?]
years. When we decided to get married, about all the folks around there
got married, too. We caused a little excitement among the young folks. You
see his folks were running a cotton gin and we had a sawmill. We both had
big farms and all the kids worked on the farms in them days; even the
girls worked some in the fields.
"But we had our good times, too. When we did turn out, we use to go to old
barn dances and dance till daylight, work all day the next day, and never
think of saying that we were tired. If there was another one anywhere
around we would all turn out and go again. We would have our good time for
a spell and then settle down to work again and go to bed early for a
while. We were all healthier then than the present generation ever thought
about being. Nowadays you hear young men and girls a-saying that they are
tired. Why I wouldn't think of saying the work myself, and neither would
dad, would you?"
Mr. Ward smiled at her and said: "I reckon we done right well. We coulda
done better though if we hadn't had so much sickness. You know that takes
a lot of money for doctors and medicine and for hospitals. I had to have
my wife operated on a year or two ago and we are just now a-gettin out of
that debt.
"That boy of mine, nodding toward the dining room where the boy sat at the
table working a cross-word puzzle, has been healthy like me. It's the
wimmen folks that 're always ailing. William there had been real smart.
He's been graduated from every school that he ever went to; the
soda-jerking school graduated him, too. That 's his diploma a-hanging
there on the wall over the piano. He's bought and paid for everything he
has had since he was a little feller of 14; so you can see that I ain't
proud of him much!
"That 's his car out there, that new Plymouth. He's bought five cars and
one motorcycle. I did help him pay for his motorcycle, but all the rest he
done by hisself."
At this William rose from the table and
came into the room saying: "I wish Dad had another boy to talk about
besides me." He was a dark, tall, and quite handsome boy. He tossed the
paper into his mother's lap. "Keep this for me, I didn't finish it, but I
got to go. Have I got a clean shirt?" He came toward the divan where I was
sitting and I noticed for the first time that he was in his stocking feet
and his shoes were on the floor beside me. He seemed quite embarrassed at
having to retrieve them and explained a little defensively, "I have to
rest my feet when I come to lunch." As he walked into his room his mother
whispered, "He's so proud I know he felt terrible to be barefooted while
you were here."
Mr. Ward continued, "My two girls are at school. One goes to Lee and is in
the 11th grade. She wants to be a business girl and wants a good course
that teaches everything. She's smart and anxious to make her own money.
That's Geneva. And Pauline's in the ninth grade and her health isn't good.
She's got some kind of gland trouble. She ain't just right, somehow, like
girls ought to be that's her age. It's the same kind of trouble that her
mother had to have a operation about. She says she wants to be a teacher
and I am going to send her to college if I have to mortgage the house to
send her. It 'll be worth it, I reckon, if she still wants to go by the
time she's ready. I always try to give my family what they want.
"One thing I've got that I'm proud of, is good credit. That Coldspot there
is paid for, and the washing machine, and the radio, and the piano, and
the Chevrolet. I put a new roof on this house, too, since I bought it
seven years ago, and we built the two rooms and later William added the
little one of his."
Mrs. Ward reminded her husband, "Daddy, you forgot that we had those
floors sanded and scraped, and that cost a lot. But we like them like this
so much better, makes things look a lot cleaner and I can just throw a rug
around here or wherever I want one and it makes the house look a heap
better.
"Yes, we spent considerable money on fixin up the place, but I do want the
kids to have a nice home to remember after we are dead and gone. I want
the girls and William to bring their friends home and have a good clean
time. Now just last night there was a crowd here, a-playing and a-singin.
Geneva can't play much but hymns. But they do have a good clean time and I
make them some chocolate or tea. I most always try to have a little cake
in the house 'cause you never can tell when you gonna have company.
"I want you to see my new range that Mr. Ward bought me the other day. I
told him I knowed that he couldn't stay outa debt two weeks and sure nuff
he couldn't."
We walked to the kitchen and she pointed at the stove proudly. "It don't
look like a stove a-tall, does it? It looks more like a chest of drawers
that belongs in the bedroom. I'm proud of it all right.
"Mr. Ward's been good to get me everything I ever wanted for the house. I
try to fix it up nice; I did all the crochet and fancy work you see around
here. The girls have so much home-work to do that they don't have time to
do things like that, and they think it's a waste of time, anyway, to sit
and do it. But you see I got the low blood pressure and heart trouble. I
can't do no more 'n I have to, after they come home from school."
"Show her the other rooms, sweetheart, so she can see just how we poor
folks live," Mr. Ward suggested.
[MISSING PAGE]
furniture in the living room was upholstered in dark green mohair, badly
soiled. The piano was an old upright with numerous photographs and several
old hymnals on it. The electric sewing machine was placed at the front
window and over this was a scarf of hand crochet. There were more pictures
of the family on the machine.
"Now, that's Mr. Ward's pa and ma a-hanging up on the wall. I got one of
mine, but it's a-needing a frame and I keep it put away in the cedar
chest. His pa is a widower and mine is dead but ma is married again. She
lives at Lulu right on and there she'll stay I reckon. But his pa is
a-living in Miami. He's been there about five years, and a-stayin with his
oldest daughter. He calls that home."
She turned back to Mr. Ward. He was sound asleep in his chair. "You see,"
she said maternally, "he usually takes a nap when he comes home for
lunch."
At that moment the sound of an automobile horn wakened him. "I get so
sleepy every day about this time, if I don't drop off a few minutes, I
almost die. That horn means that the ladies that 're a-goin to the funeral
with my wife are here. They don't know the man that died; they're just
goin to console his sister who's a member of the church we all go to. I
don't get to go regular, but the folks go right often. The girls and boy
go to [?.?.?], but the boy can't go as regular now that he's a-workin
where he is. He makes about as much money on his job as I do. He makes $25
a week and I make about $30. He works for a package house and of course
mixes drinks too. He wants to quit and go on the road as a salesman for
some good company. He mentioned it today. He thinks he may go with the
Hygienic Company. He's a good talker if I do say so myself. Everybody says
I got a mighty good boy. Anyway, he's the best one we ever had.
"When I started working I got 40 cents an hour and we've been paid up to
53 cents, but have been cut down as low as 41 cents. Now we have got back
to the 51 cents. When the times get hard the company has to cut down a
little everywhere they can. But they're a mighty good place to work and
will treat you right, too.
"I been there since 1918 and I really like driving the buses. I don't have
any trouble with anybody. Seems like everybody is about the same. Some
people think the conductor ought to make the Negroes get up and give up
their seats, but if they got on first and get the seats they are entitled
to them. Lots of times I have let people ride for nothin, if I knew that
they didn't have the money and that they rode when they had it. The
company tells us when we start to work to use our own judgment about
things like that.
"I've had a chance to make a lot of friends in the years that I've been a-drivin.
I enjoy my work a lot. No, they never say a word about who a feller votes
for. We'd all vote like we wanted to, anyway, no matter if they did say
something.
"I've voted the straight Democratic ticket ever since I started and that
boy will do the same. I never did try and tell my wife to vote.
She usually votes her own way, anyway. She has friends that discuss the
elections and such, and she's a member of the P.T.A., who all urged us to
vote for the bond issue for the schools, and we did, but some of it we did
not vote for. I don't think much about the political parties. I just know
that I am a old-fashioned Democrat, and don't fly the coop to vote for
somebody else just to suit another feller.
"I better get ready to go now. You can ride back with us. The car will be
kinda crowded but there's always more room if you try to find it. Anyway,
it'll save you that walk even if it is crowded."
Mrs. Ward emerged from her room looking stouter than ever in her homemade
royal-blue silk dress. She was heavily powdered and no trace of color was
on her face or lips.
"We'd better get started, the funeral starts at 3:30. I do hope they open
the coffin. I sure would like to see him. The preacher said that he use to
come to the church once in a while and I'd like to see if I remember him."
"Don't you all lock up the doors when you leave like this?" asked one of
her friends.
Mrs. Ward laughed, "No, we just push the front door to, and don't bother
locking up nothin. There's nothin in my house nobody would want anyway,
unless its something to eat, that one thing we do have and plenty of."
I complimented Mrs. Ward on her driving, and she turned immediately to her
husband. "There now, see, you said I couldn't drive good. I never heard
anyone compliment you on the way you drive."
"O, well, I'm a good bus driver anyway. My record is the best, or about
the best, of any of the drivers. I got a good run now; Brentwood and Main,
and that sure is a lot better 'n that congested section of Riverside
Avenue and Day Street.
Mr. Ward left the car to board a bus for the car barn and said to me as he
got out, "I hope that story turns out all right, but I never was much of a
talker, nohow."
James Kerby Ward
4515 Shelby Street
Jacksonville, Florida
Bus Driver (White
Lillian Stedman, writer
February 17, 1939
Evelyn Werner, Reviser
Text from: Library of
Congress, Manuscript Division, WPA Federal Writers' Project Collection
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