THE EATONVILLE ANTHOLOGY
By ZORA NEALE HURSTON
The Messenger The World's Greatest Negro Monthly Volume VIII September, October, November, 1926
I The Pleading Woman
Mrs. Tony Roberts is the pleading woman. She just loves to ask for things. Her husband gives her all he can rake and scrape, which is considerably more than most wives get for their housekeeping, but she goes from door to door begging for things.
She starts at the store. “Mist’ Clarke,” she sing-songs in a high keening voice, “gimme lil’ piece uh meat tuh boil a pot uh greens wid. Lawd knows me an’ mah chillen is SO hongry! Hits uh SHAME! Tony don’t fee-ee-eee-ed me!”
Mr. Clarke knows that she has money and that her larder is well stocked, for Tony Roberts is the best provider on his list. But her keening annoys him and he arises heavily. The pleader at this shows all the joy of a starving man being seated at a feast.
“Thass right Mist’ Clarke. De Lawd loveth de cheerful giver. Gimme jes’ a lil’ piece ’bout dis big (indicating the width of her hand) an’ de Lawd’ll bless yuh.”
She follows this angel-on-earth to his meat tub and superintends the cutting, crying out in pain when he refuses to move the knife over just a teeny bit mo’.
Finally, meat in hand, she departs, remarking on the meanness of some people who give a piece of salt meat only two-fingers wide when they were plainly asked for a hand-wide piece. Clarke puts it down to Tony’s account and resumes his reading.
With the slab of salt pork as a foundation, she visits various homes until she has collected all she wants for the day. At the Piersons, for instance: “Sister Pierson, plee-ee-ease gimme uh han’ful uh collard greens fuh me an’ mah po’ chillen! ’Deed, me an’ mah chillen is SO hongry. Tony doan’ fee-ee-eed me!”
Mrs. Pierson picks a bunch of greens for her, but she springs away from them as if they were poison. “Lawd a mussy, Mis’ Pierson, you ain’t gonna gimme dat lil’ eye-full uh greens fuh me an’ mah chillen, is you? Don’t be so graspin’; Gawd won’t bless yuh. Gimme uh han’full mo’. Lawd, some folks is got everything, an’ theys jes’ as gripin’ an stingy!”
Mrs. Pierson raises the ante, and the pleading woman moves on to the next place, and on and on. The next day, it commences all over.
II Turpentine Love
Jim Merchant is always in good humor—even with his wife. He says he fell in love with her at first sight. That was some years ago. She has had all her teeth pulled out, but they still get along splendidly.
He says the first time he called on her he found out that she was subject to fits. This didn’t cool his love, however. She had several in his presence.
One Sunday, while he was there, she had one, and her mother tried to give her a dose of turpentine to stop it. Accidently, she spilled it in her eye and it cured her. She never had another fit, so they got married and have kept each other in good humor ever since.
III
Becky Moore has eleven children of assorted colors and sizes. She has never been married, but that is not her fault. She has never stopped any of the fathers of her children from proposing, so if she has no father for her children it’s not her fault. The men round about are entirely to blame.
The other mothers of the town are afraid that it is catching. They won’t let their children play with hers.
IV Tippy
Sykes Jones’ family all shoot craps. The most interesting member of the family—also fond of bones, but of another kind—is Tippy, the Jones’ dog.
He is so thin, that it amazes one that he lives at all. He sneaks into village kitchens if the housewives are careless about the doors and steals meats, even off the stoves. He also sucks eggs.
For these offenses he has been sentenced to death dozens of times, and the sentences executed upon him, only they didn’t work. He has been fed bluestone, strychnine, nux vomica, even an entire Peruna bottle beaten up. It didn’t fatten him, but it didn’t kill him. So Eatonville has resigned itself to the plague of Tippy, reflecting that it has erred in certain matters and is being chastened.
In spite of all the attempts upon his life, Tippy is still willing to be friendly with anyone who will let him.
V The Way of a Man with a Train
Old Man Anderson lived seven or eight miles out in the country from Eatonville. Over by Lake Apopka. He raised feed-corn and cassava and went to market with it two or three times a year. He bought all of his victuals wholesale so he wouldn’t have to come to town for several months more.
He was different from us citybred folks. He had never seen a train. Everybody laughed at him for even the smallest child in Eatonville had either been to Maitland or Orlando and watched a train go by. On Sunday afternoons all of the young people of the village would go over to Maitland, a mile away, to see Number 35 whizz southward on its way to Tampa and wave at the passengers. So we looked down on him a little. Even we children felt superior in the presence of a person so lacking in worldly knowledge.
The grown-ups kept telling him he ought to go see a train. He always said he didn’t have time to wait so long. Only two trains a day passed through Maitland. But patronage and ridicule finally had its effect and Old Man Anderson drove in one morning early. Number 78 went north to Jacksonville at 10:20. He drove his light wagon over in the woods beside the railroad below Maitland, and sat down to wait. He began to fear that his horse would get frightened and run away with the wagon. So he took him out and led him deeper into the grove and tied him securely. Then he returned to his wagon and waited some more. Then he remembered that some of the train-wise villagers had said the engine belched fire and smoke. He had better move his wagon out of danger. It might catch afire. He climbed down from the seat and placed himself between the shafts to draw it away. Just then 78 came thundering over the trestle spouting smoke, and suddenly began blowing for Maitland. Old Man Anderson became so frightened he ran away with the wagon through the woods and tore it up worse than the horse ever could have done. He doesn’t know yet what a train looks like, and says he doesn’t care.
