BETSY BRINSON: … is an interview with Julia Cowan. The interview takes place at
her residence on Chestnut Street in Lexington, Kentucky, and the interviewer is Betsy Brinson. Miss Cowan, give me your full name, if you would please, so I can get a voice level.JULIA COWANS: Ah, Julia Bell Cowans.
BRINSON: Okay.
[Tape clicks off and on.]
BRINSON: Well thank you very much for agreeing to talk with me today.
COWANS: Mm-hmm.
BRINSON: We’re, we’re picking up, as you know, with some of the interview
material that you did back in the 1980s with Alessandro Portelli.COWANS: Mm-hmm.
BRINSON: And I have some additional questions that we wanted to, to know about you.
COWANS: Okay
BRINSON: Could, could you begin, please, by telling me where and when you were born?
COWANS: I was born in, ah, Cardinal, Kentucky.
BRINSON: Cardinal?
COWANS: Bell County, Bell County, Kentucky. Ah, 19. . . 25, on May fifth. 1925.
BRINSON: And that makes you. . . how old?
COWANS: Seventy-six, in a few days, if I live, I’ll be seventy-seven.
BRINSON: May, twenty-five.
COWANS: Mm-hmm.
BRINSON: Okay. Um, and could you tell me a little bit about your family at the
time that you were born? Who was in your family?COWANS: Well I was born in a little coal mining community. Uh, Bell County. Ah,
my mother’s, ah name was . . . Winnie Zellers , that was her maiden name. But her married name was Winnie Smith. That was her married name. And of course, just grew up like the only—it was a little mining camp, and, ah—BRINSON: And your father worked in the mines?
COWANS: Was a coal miner.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: He was a coal miner. My grandfather, far as I know, my grandfather, was
a coal miner, my uncles, everybody that—that I—in my immediate family around there, they all were coal miners. ‘Cause you had to be, or you didn’t live in that community. ‘Cause it was a coal mining community and that was the only industry there.BRINSON: Mm-hmm.
COWANS: So, all, far as I can go back, ah, and remember, my great grandfather,
my grandfather, my uncle, they all were coal miners.BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: And my great-grandmother, she ran a boarding house. Black men come there
and get jobs, they didn’t have furniture, no--they would live at the boarding house. My great-grandmother--kids that died--she ran that boardinghouse for men that would come there and get jobs that would stay there until they moved their families there or maybe just leave and go, uh, elsewhere.BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: And, ah, I grew up in that area, went to a one-room school. The grades
went from, uh, what we used to call primer to the eighth grade and all that was in one room.BRINSON: Now did you go to an all-black school?
COWANS: Oh, yeah. It—it—
BRINSON: How many children, approximately, went to that school with you?
COWANS: Well, now, I. . . I. . . couldn’t be precise, but, maybe. . . ‘cause,
because in the coal mining area wasn’t nothing but children. And all the black children went to the black school, and white children went to the white schools. ‘Cause wasn’t no such thing as integration, but in Bell County or Harlan County, well, down in, that part of Kentucky. Or as I know . . . and ah, we, uh, went to this, ah, one-room school, that--My gosh, I guess, oh, Lord, I – I guess it about at—maybe, between—I would—be safe in saying, between . . . maybe forty-five and fifty children in that one room.BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: Because they took them from the primer, that’s what they—you know, used
to call it the primer, nowadays, what they call it now? First grade? Or something, or, I don’t know what they call it now. But it was a primer. Uh, and the—but you didn’t start until you were six. Six years old, that’s when you started in the primer.BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: And so we, uh, all went in that, that one room school there, in that community.
BRINSON: Let me go back and ask you about the town. Um, how did – did the blacks
and whites live together or where there separate sections for …?COWANS: It was separate sessions. Ah, sections. Uh, you came to the white, where
we called it, camp. Come to the white camp first and then over on the hill, that’s where the blacks were.BRINSON: Mm-hmm, okay. And was it fairly equal, black and white, or where there
more whites than blacks, or. . . ?COWANS: Well, I, I would say it was more white than black. But at that time, far
as I, remember, it was a lot of blacks too, because I could—I’ve heard my mother and them say, they bought an inn there to go, leave the miners—coal operators would--just say, for instance, when my father came from Georgia, Alabama, he come to the coal mine, then they would run what you call transportation? They go back home and get they people and bring them up to the coal mines, you know? And they, and now, this is what I used to hear them say, now, I don’t, I wasn’t in the knowledge of this at that time.BRINSON: Right
COWANS: But I heard them talk about, how you know, if, if when one brother came
up, and he’s working coal mine making good money--or whatever money they were making, it was better than what they had--and they go back home and they had to . . . what do you call it? Sneak them away? Steal them away? Or something, because down there, on the plantations where they were; if they, ah, the plantation owner knew that they’s coming around, uh, a sneaking them families away; they couldn’t of done it. I used to hear them talk about that. And they migrated from, down south, uh, uh, Georgia, Alabama, you know, places like that. And they migrated from down there up into the, Kentucky coal mines. I think that that was done just about every where it was coal mining, ah, carrying on.BRINSON: Okay. How far did you get in school?
COWANS: I got to the eighth grade. I lived to get out of the eighth grade.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: Uh. . .
BRINSON: And. . . ?
COWANS: Because, my stepfather—my mother and father separated when I was too
young to know him—but she was married, uh, to my stepfather. Ah, Will Smith, that was his name. And up until he . . . died, I was in the eighth grade and I had to stop school. Because at that time there were no help for a widow woman with a lot of kids--with kids at all. And I can remember. . . I can remember, ah, men, getting, uh, killed in the mines; and they families—I, I, I didn’t understand it then, but they families would have to pack up and leave and go back where ever they come from, or where ever they had folks to go to. And then, it’s, it’s,. . . uh, I can remember this, too, that sometime if the husband lost the wife, and it always was a lot of children; uh, that they would—people in the community, you know--would take some of the kids to help raise them, you know. A lot of families got tore up like that, ‘cause folks would move, and you’d never hear of your brother or sister anymore, you know. That happened. Because. . . I, I, I didn’t realize it was hard times, you know, and folks had a hard time struggling trying, to live out, just young, and didn’t understand it.BRINSON: Right, right.
COWANS: But back then, it happened.
BRINSON: Right. How did you meet your husband?
COWANS: Oh, my first husband. . . I’ve been married twice.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: Henry Coleman. I met him, in, on the--uh, Cardinal, Kentucky, there. And
my stepfather. . . had died. My mother. . . had, ah, . . . eight children, and was pregnant with the baby when he died. And I had to stop school and go to work, such as to be done there, in that community there; like . .. uh, domestic work, you know. Scrubbing floors, windows, washing and--we took in washing and ironing and things. That’s what kept us going. And it was a hard struggle. By this time I’m understanding all this you, you know. And I worked—I’d leave--work at the—boarding house, the white boarding house in the white community. And when, uh, they had, like a morning shift and an afternoon shift in the coal mine. And, ah, I had to be up before day to go down to, to the white boarding house. To help in the kitchen, getting the miners out to they jobs. Then, to help, you know, clean, clean, make beds and things. Uh, the—by, by, one o’clock the second shift was getting up, see they done slept all night. Then I had, it was just a constant thing, making beds and cleaning up. Ah, getting them out. That’s what, that’s how I, I—and I was doing all of that for five dollars a week. Five dollars a week. That’s what my mother—would take that money, ‘cause she was—be pregnant, she was sick. So many times we didn’t think she was going live. And take care my other sisters and brother. Didn’t have but one brother. At that time. The rest was girls. And, ah—BRINSON: Were you the oldest child?
COWANS: I was the oldest child. And, ah, the other children went to school, and
I went to work. I worked a many time —uh, look at these shoes, they called Buddies. You know, and, at that time they wasn’t but ‘bout fifty cents, twenty-five, thirty cents, what ever. And, I—we could not even afford. I would have on them shoes, cut, carve cardboard—be worn, my cut cardboards and put in them shoes. You know, keep feet from getting wet and muddy and stuff like that. And, ah, I did that. I did that for my family. And, ah, this guy what—uh, I married, he, he had come in that community. . . uh, and I’ll tell you this—at that time, too, our young boys were going to World War Two. And it cleaned out the community, wasn’t no young boys there. They all, gone to the Army. And this single man had come there and got a job and was staying, I see there, renting my house or something out there and staying there. And I happened to go to the store one day from over to the boarding house where I was working, and I saw that strange man in the Commissary. And I had never seen him, you know. And I know, in that community where we were, everybody knew everybody. And so, when I went home that night, I, I was telling Momma about it. I said, “Momma, I saw a strange black man in the Commissary today when I had to go to the store for Miss Georgie.” And, uh, she said, “Oh,” say, “His name Henry Coleman. Said, “He been here about three, four weeks that he rent that house, out there and that’s where he live.” And I didn’t think nothing else about it, and, uh, [clears throat], got to the place after that and--occasionally, I’d have to go to the stores sometime, or, . . . be going, uh, uh, to Sunday school on Sunday. Uh, and he—would be standing in the row, talking to somebody. That man looked at me one day, said, “I’m gonna marry you.” And, ah, ooh, I hated him on sight, and that’s the truth. ‘Cause he, took the bottle, you know.BRINSON: Mm-hmm.
COWANS: And, ah, I, when he was talking to that man I didn’t speak to that man.
Well, times was so hard, for us. My uncle, well, that—I had two uncles, three uncles in that community at that time—and ah, if we ran out of salt, of baking powders or something like that, and Momma would send some of the kids over there to Uncle, Charlie’s house. And said, “Ah, tell him, send me a spoon of baking powder.” And he would get very upset. He said, “If she, if Julia didn’t think she was so much and go on and marry Henry, you all wouldn’t have to ask nobody for nothing.” You know. He’d get mad, and dog us, you know.[Sound of child crying gets louder throughout speech.]
BRINSON: Mm-hmm.
COWANS: And, um, just to tell you the truth, I was pushed into that marriage,
with somebody I didn’t even like. I didn’t even like that man.BRINSON: Was he working in the coal mines?
COWANS: Oh, yeah, he had to be a coal miner, to get the, to be there on that,
that’s the only industry there, was coal mining. Ain’t no--do nothing else. [To crying baby:] Okay. Uh—[Tape clicks off and on]
COWANS: . . . And she don’t come up.
BRINSON: Tell me—I’m going to jump ahead—tell me how you met Hugh, Cowans,
because you have most of the interview with—COWANS: With Hugh.
BRINSON: Yes.
COWANS: Okay.
BRINSON: Yes, and, both of you.
COWANS: I married Henry Coleman. And we stayed together twenty-two years. Had
ten children. [To someone with crying child.] You might take her out of here. We had ten children. We ended in divorce, . . . uh—by this time, we done left--I done left, uh, Bell County, we was living in Harlan County. And, uh, . . . and so during my divorce. Well, I met Hugh Cowans—I met--I knew his mother, years before I even, knew them, because we were real good friends. She helped me with my kids and everything and I worked. And, uh, he, and his wife--he had a wife—used to come from West Virginia over to Harlan to see his mother. And then, uh, eventually, their marriage ended in divorce. But by this time he was, a, preaching, he’d been called into the ministry. And they. . . marriage had ended in, ah, divorce. And he. . . but before they divorced, he went blind. He say they told him when he come out of the Army, that one day he might lose his sight because of war--war injuries. When he was in, he was in World War Two. And, ah, but he’s, he said he’d come out and work twelve years before, and went fishing one Saturday evening, come back, backed into his garage, went black, his sight went just like that. And so, after that, he and his—I don’t know what they problem was, but—I know, too, but I’m not going say—but, they finally ended in divorce. And, ah, he went to Hines Illinois, and—a school for the blind. And learned Braille and everything. And he come back, and he stayed with his mother. And I used to help him. . . with, that’s--supposed how he got his Braille bibles and all that material that he needed. And so, eventually, we got married. We got married. I had ten children. . . by my first husband. And, uh. . .BRINSON: And did you and Hugh have children?
COWANS: One, that’s, these are his grandchildren.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: We had one, one daughter. Sylvia. And, ah—
BRINSON: And, I, I understand that he died a year or so ago?
COWANS: Yes,
BRINSON: How old was he?
COWANS: He was eighty-seven. He was eighty-seven. And he, we were married—
BRINSON: A long time.
COWANS: Long, we were married, oh, about thirty—two, thirty three years, before
he died. And, ah, that’s his picture over there on the wall.BRINSON: Oh, okay.
COWANS: And, ah, . . . he had had a son by a former marriage, but he got killed,
in a car wreck. And, ah, then we have one, one—‘course I didn’t think I was ever going to have any more kids. ‘Cause I’m old now, you know. And ah, my baby was ten years old by my first husband. And, ah, he--we--this is my baby by the preacher there. That’s her.BRINSON: Oh, yeah, she’s beautiful.
COWANS: And, ah –
BRINSON: Where does she live?
COWANS: They live out on Wood Hill.
BRINSON: Okay. Here in Lexington?
COWANS: Uh-huh.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: And, and, these, five of these kids are hers.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: Uh-huh. And so, . . . we, we had the kids. We—He helped organize the
coal in Harlan County. He, he was in that—we wasn’t together,BRINSON: Right.
COWANS: In those days, but he was. . .a, uh, organizer.
BRINSON: I want—I want to go back. When I talked to you on the phone, and, uh, I
said to you, I wanted to talk about, um, segregation and the effort to integrate in Eastern County and you said there wasn’t any integration—COWANS: Uh, well—
BRINSON: Could you talk about that a little bit more?
COWANS: Wait a minute, let me understand what I’ve said to you—
BRINSON: Well—well first off, help me to understand what segregation was like in
Eastern Kentucky in the years that you were living there.COWANS: Where we grew up, where I grew up, . . . it was a segregation, alright;
such as white school, black school, white church, black church. And--but they all did the same work, coal mining. They did different grade, uh, levels--but ah--my great-grandmother, she was a midwife. And she helped deliver or delivered most of the white and black babies. They call her, everybody call her [phones ring], maybe—[Tape clicks off and on]
COWANS: --she, everybody called her, white and black. Either Grandma Kisey or
Aunt Kisey.BRINSON: Mm-hmm.
COWANS: And, uh, she--I told you she ran this boarding house-- You go in her
dining room, you see them children around that table, you see just as many whites and you see black. If they was out there playing at meal times, she make everybody come in there, wash up and eat. Sit around—and honestly, I didn’t even know what integration or segregation was all about, till—what? I guess I about six…teen. And I used to throw papers, in the afternoon, after school; I’d go get the papers and throw papers. And right where I had to pick up my papers, uh, this white family lived there where they’d throw them up at they house. And they had the prettiest little girl, she was about four, three or four, it’s what I think, and she sit out there with me everyday, to wait on the man that bring the paper. And we’d talk, and, uh, she’d ask me—[Man’s voice interrupts; tape clicks off and on.]
COWANS: I’m sorry about this, I told you--
BRINSON: That’s okay.
COWANS: I told you—about my kids--with kids, there’d be a lot of interruptions.
And he’s working out there. . .[Sounds of coughing; tape clicks off and on]
COWANS: And, uh. . . she would, a, would--be everybody together—
[Tape clicks off and on.]
COWANS: about six--did I carry papers. And, and, this little girl would come out
everyday, we’d sit there—UNIDENTIFIED VOICE: ‘Scuse me—is this--
[Tape clicks off and on.]
COWANS: And, ah, -- she wanted to go home with me, you know. And I’d tell her,
I’d say, you can’t go, Dorothy, honey, I said, I gotta go throw papers. And, uh, if she was so persistent. “But I want to go home with you, Julia. I want to go play with you”—you know, little blessed baby. And so I thought I’d just get back on my bike, I said, “Well, you ask your mother, and if she say you can go I—I’ll take you home with me a little while.” So, I—this—I got my papers and left. And next day I went to get my papers, and she came out, and she was pouting; and, uh, I said, “Dorothy, what’s the matter?” She said, “Julia, I, asked my mommy if I could go home with you.” And she said, “No, I would have to wait till I turned to a nigger.” And I said, “Now, I told her one of these days, I’m gonna get mad, turn black as tar.” (laughter both) And that’s when it dawned on me, you know, uh, that, that was a level that you didn’t cross, you know. And that’s, that’s when I first noticed segregation. Played with white children all my life. We played together, slept together; ‘cause if dark caught you over on that hill, my grandmother got you in there, you took a bath and got in that bed and that’s where you stayed. Slept with them, ate with them, we had our differences but it never turned or dawned on me, that we was segregated like that. And so, after that, ah, I been—I grew up, married, and we moved to Harlan County. And, uh, I saw more of it in Harlan County than in Bell County—either I just didn’t notice it, growing up, you know, around it. And, ah, when I married Hugh Cowan, he come over West Virginia, well—that’s why he said they were over in West Virginia, they had organized Harlan County, but I wasn’t there at that time. And, uh, that’s why he went to West Virginia to get a job, ‘cause he said he couldn’t get a job nowhere in Harlan County. Being an organizer. Uh-huh.BRINSON: So, when you, what, uh, what period did you two live in Harlan County?
When you met him? What year are we talking about there?COWANS: We talking about nineteen six. .. we’re talking about nineteen fifty-nine.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: Fifty-nine.
BRINSON: What, what can you tell me about, um, Harlan County at that point in
terms of segregation?COWANS: Well, now, I can truthfully say this: . . . from what I know—there was
never no difference, uh, . . on, on the mining communities. You got along with your neighbors or you let them alone. If you couldn’t get along with them, you didn’t bother them. And I can tell you this, too—you didn’t bother them, they didn’t bother you. We got blacks and whites far as I know, never ever had no confrontation, till after the segregation thing came about. And then, we didn’t—I me—You were my neighbor! We--you know--we’d talk together, we’d go to the store, we, that’s—done the same thing every day, together. But it’s just, ah, some people, they--if they had they difference they kept it to themselves and stayed the—they distance. White and black.BRINSON: Can you remember any demonstrations in Harlan?
COWANS: Now we were in. . . Evarts, that’s where we lived, the first place I
went, in, in Harlan County. The only. . . and I don’t—it might have been, uh, so—some differences or something’ bad, uh, but, not that—I know about, that I can recall except this one incident. . . when they started to integrate. I had, Reverend, I, I called him Rev, he’s the preacher, we had become, uh, members of the NAACP. I wrote up the—I wrote up the first white man in Evarts in the NAACP. He was our police chief!BRINSON: What do you mean—he, he joined the NAACP?
COWANS: He joined the—we, we, we sat down, we talked to him, and told him the
nature of this NAACP. It ain’t white against blacks against white. It’s about equal opportunity. If my child education, uh, requires him to be a president, why can’t he run? But whatever his ability is, it wasn’t no white man marry black woman, why—why—uh, black man, red man, white woman; and I looked him in his face like I’m looking at you. I said, “Marvin, it’s not about sex--sex mix.” I said, “No, I don’t want my son to have your daughter, any more than you would want your daughter to have my son.” I said, “But it’s equal opportunity.” I said, “Now, we don’t have this. We don’t have this year.” And, I wrote Marvin the police chief, up the first man I wrote up. He said, “Well, Julia, that’s the way I am.” He said “That’s the way I feel about it.”BRINSON: What, what was his full name? Or his--?
COWANS: We all call him Gunsmoke.
BRINSON: Gunsmoke.
COWANS: But I—I know his first name’s Marvin. It’ll come to me—
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: But I can’t think of it, his last name, ‘cause everybody say, you know,
get these nicknames, there, but I know his first name—BRINSON: Was it Tipton or something?
COWANS: Marvin, ah—I can get it—
BRINSON: That’s okay, it doesn’t – I’m going to turn the tape over here.
COWANS: Okay.
END SIDE ONE TAPE ONE
BEGIN SIDE TWO TAPE ONE
COWANS: “Julia, that’s the way it is,” he said, “that’s what I’m for.” And he
said, “You write me up.” And I wrote him up first before I wrote anybody else up. As a member.BRINSON: What kinds of activities did the local NAACP do in Harlan?
COWANS: Ah, we—Listen. For—as—that’s what I’m telling now, in Evarts—they had. .
. open counters where they served. Black children go in there sit by the white children order what they—we never had this problem in Evarts. We never did have that problem. We had no problem, uh, to confront us, you know, that we had to have meetings and things, and—and, and, all that kind of stuff. We—I, my husband and myself—set up a Junior NAACP. We told them . . . what they knew. We schooled them on what it was all about. Our children got along fine. The boy—those kids raised up together right there. . . and they would fight for each other. No I’m going--I’m gonna tell you about it. This, uh, one boy, he didn’t live in Evarts, but they lived down the road somewhere. I don’t even know his name—but that he would--in the Army--he dropped out of school and went in the Army. Then when he came back out he started—went to school to pick up his grades, you know; go back, finish his education. And my nephew, and I guess about this time Sonny’s about, uh, sixteen, or seventeen, yeah, yeah, if I can—getting ready to get out of school. He, uh, they got into it. I don’t know how it come about or what, but this man pulled a knife! Gonna cut, this boy. And ran him out of the school. My husband and I—he told, just, just let it—don’t, don’t—we won’t have this, we won’t. We went to the Chairman of the School Board that ran a hardware and furniture store there in Evarts. We sat down and talked it out. Mr. Coleman, his name was Carson Coleman. He said, “Well, I’ll tell you, Hugh,” said, “Don’t worry about it. He will never go another day in that school.” And he didn’t. And that’s—went out, just like that.BRINSON: Mm. Okay.
COWANS: Now that’s the only. . . incident—
BRINSON: Right.
COWANS: --That I can remember we had in Evarts. And far as I know at Harlan,
which was—little county seat there, I don’t remember, uh, any. Now I didn’t live down there, but we lived about eight or ten miles, up this community where we live. And, um. . . they started, we started, encouraging the children to have sit-ins. ‘Cause there were some who wouldn’t serve you, in Harlan, there, which wasn’t no trouble in Evarts. And, they’d start, let the children sit in. Didn’t have not one, only—it was—ah—one drugstore that had—this old drugstore, that had a--that had a restaurant in there. And he said, “Before I would serve those people, I’ll shut it down.” And that’s what he did. Wasn’t no, hey, or yea, or nay, or nothing about it.BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: He closed it down. I don’t remember it being no – fighting or fussing or
–and they could’ve been and I didn’t know about it. But I’m talking about what I know. But I know it didn’t happen in Evarts.BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: ‘Cause I was right there and involved in community services. Uh, we was,
uh, sat on the Board of the National, uh Equal Rights Congress—BRINSON: And I want to talk to you more about that—
COWANS: Mm-hmm.
BRINSON: --Organization. Um, what—what can you tell me about them, uh, what, uh,
and how did you get involved with them?COWANS: I got in—we got involved by two, uh, ah, man and wife, Betsy and Chuck.
They were, in, uh. . . [clears throat] on the National and involved in the national work. And, uh, they, uh, we had never ever met in the national, meetings. And, uh, then, Betsy and Chuck—you ain’t gonna believe this, but I, I, I been sick, and a lot of things I forget temporarily, but later on it comes back to me.BRINSON: No, I understand—
COWANS: And, uh, and I’m trying to think of Chuck and Betsy’s last, uh, name—I
got some, dues, newspapers and things, when we were active, somewhere in some of these boxes packed up. And, uh, they got us involved. We went to Jackson, Mississippi. They flew us down there. And that’s where my first meeting was in Jackson Mississippi. [Laughs]. Wearing them big “Ban the Klan” buttons—mine’s there in my drawer right now—“Ban the Klan.” We went down there, that’s where we had, I met with them for the first time was in Jackson, Mississippi. And, ah, . . . I know this much about the, National Board. They just don’t bring anybody in and okay, you can. . . .I know you got to be screened, you know? You got to be a, ah, law-abiding citizen, you know, you--. I mean, they screened, you just don’t walk in there and tell them this or that. It’s everything you say’s got to be proven. You’re not a trouble maker. Not quick to lose your temper. Not, you know, . . . it’s stuff like that, you know.BRINSON: And, and the, official name was the Equal Rights Congress?
COWANS: National.
BRINSON: National Equal Rights Congress.
COWANS: National Equal Rights Congress.
BRINSON: What—
COWANS: They had every nationality, in there, but one. And it was the Indian.
Now, after I left, they might have got them, but at that time, when we was involved, . . . uh, they had every nationality.BRINSON: The first meeting that you attended in Jackson would have been about
what year are we talking about? In the seventies or the sixties. . . ?COWANS: Mmm, now wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute . . . yeah, it was
in the seventies. It was is in the seventies.BRINSON: And how long did you stay active with them?
COWANS: I. . . I, I stayed active for about--been about three years, ‘cause
that’s when I went and started getting sick and everything, you know, like. . . and a lot of times I should have been going I couldn’t go. Rather then them, them dragging me along I’d rather give up my seat, let somebody else take it, you know. And, uh—BRINSON: What—
COWANS: Ahh, go ahead.
BRINSON: What—and, board, at these meetings, of the board, what kinds of issues
did you discuss?COWANS: They—we, discussed, uh, . . uh. . . [banging noise] [sighs]. . .[to
herself] Jesus. Well, we discussed, like . . . [sighs]. Wait a minute, it’s trying to come to me. . . . Inhuman treatments. You know. Beating, mistreat because of the color of your skin. Holding you down from jobs. Uh, . . . and, uh, equal opportunities. And how to deal with these problems without going out want to kill, shooting guns, and things, you know, no that was never discussed. It was how you, uh, go about having these situations—you know, nobody don’t want to have no war. No, that’s out of the question. But how to deal with these things intelligently, soberly, you know, and, and, uh,—not, not be, uh, bringing about riots. You know, just ‘cause you had a bad something to happen here don’t go rioting at things like that, you know. But, uh, the people, that’s what the NAACP is for, in a community, if a situation break out, instead of, uh, uh, grabbing guns and sticks and things, wanting to fight and kill; let them come together and discuss this stuff and try to work it out. Uh, uh, right, you know, the best way you know how. And you can—and I know it can be done! I’m going tell you, I remember. . . oh, one situation, in Harlan, now that my mind is kind of working a little bit. This, this white--black boy, white girl was going together in school. And she been going with that boy, they--uh, it came out--for two school terms. But somehow or the other, somebody caught them. And when she got—because her parents. . . hated blacks. And when they caught them, she cried, “rape.” She said the boy was raping her. And this went to court. But the NAACP. . . most of the kids knew--the black kids--they had heard what was going on, and they, they didn’t, a--the NAACP got a lawyer, to come in, and we got this lawyer to come in there. . .BRINSON: Do you remember his name at all?
COWANS: Uh, he wasn’t from Harlan. We got him out of Louisville, Kentucky. And
he come to Harlan—BRINSON: This would have been James Crumlin?
COWANS: I know—I know his name, but I, you know, I’m kind of careful about
calling folks’ name,BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: You know, because then and now is a different time. And something I
might say to, interrogate somebody or, but--BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: We got this lawyer and he came to Harlan. And he, that, that morning for
the trial. And this guy come walking in, and they knew nobody had gotten no lawyer up there; ‘cause everybody in Harlan know everything, you know. But when that lawyer, that black man come in there; and they didn’t know where he come from, just as cool as a cucumber. Never raised his voice. Soft spoken. Uh, now don’t bring it here (whispered aside) I’m doing a--take it back. And he listened to her lawyer, then when time come. . .he talked to that girl. . . just as soft spoken, because she broke down in tears, and admitted, that that was her boyfriend. Sure did!BRINSON: Hmm.
COWANS: And I’m gonna tell you another issue that come up now that--once we got
on past in Evarts--the white girls, uh, high school, just across the track—I mean the white high school—in fact, they had it integrated at this time. White and black was going to this school. But they could come right out the school and go right up the hill over there. . . . There was a lot of boys up there, like drop-outs and who wouldn’t attend the school like they should. Them girls would take out of that school and right up that hill, go right up that hill with them. Black boys were. . . one man, was so. . . so. . . tore up, he didn’t want his girl on that hill. He said the boys was chasing the girls. I tell you what they did, they locked the school at lunchtime to keep them girls in. But that didn’t suit this dad. My husband--we all, you know--we talked, you know, when we had issues and things there, we’d talk about it. My husband told, Gunsmoke, said, “I want to show you something.” Said, “I want you to sit right here on my porch.” Said, “Now, when noon come,” said, “I want you to see if the black boys is chasing the white girls, or the white girls is chasing the black boys.” That was before they put the lock on there when this Daddy was raising so much sand. And, uh, at noon, boy, yeah, them girls come. Up that hill, just as fast as—and the Chief of Police sat there and saw it for himself. He saw it for himself. And Rev said, “Now you see what a problem is that? So it’s not the black boys chasing the white girls, it’s the, uh, white girls chasing the black boys.”BRINSON: Okay. I want to ask you just a couple more questions about the National
Equal Rights Congress?COWANS: Uh-huh?
BRINSON: And then we’ll be about through, I think. This has been real good, real
helpful. Um, when you went to the meetings of the Congress, about how many people would be present, and where would, where would they come from?COWANS: They—I’m telling you had every nationality there but one, that was the Indian—
BRINSON: Alright.
COWANS: We. . . had the meetings at that time and it was—a black, uh--at, at, I
think, ah, the black Governor, in Jackson Mississippi, or black Mayor, one of the two, I don’t think—BRINSON: It’s not a mayor, I think …
[Child calls, tape clicks off and on]
COWANS: In that building, in Jackson, Mississippi. He was either the Mayor or
the Governor of the state, something.BRINSON: So you met in a government building?
COWANS: In that building, yes, it was a government building. ‘Scuse me one
minute, turn that off …[Tape clicks off and on.]
BRINSON: …that again. You walked the streets?
COWANS: We walked the streets and they was just droves and droves and droves. .
. of Jackson Mississippi, with these big “Ban the Klan”--and I had never heard nothing good about Mississippi in my life. And was scared to death, of Jackson, Mi--of Mississippi. But we went, and everybody that was walking had on one o’ these buttons.BRINSON: Hmm. And they wanted to get rid of the Klan.
COWANS: The Klans. They was getting a lot of trouble in that area in that day at
that time. I’ve had that button all this—I kept mine, I don’t know what Rev did with his; but this was the button we had on, walking the streets of Jackson, Mississippi.BRINSON: Yeah, hmm.
COWANS: It took courage. If you was scared, you wouldn’t—you couldn’t do it. You
couldn’t do it. We integrated a restaurant, there. And the--when we went in to be served, the, the—the waiters and things, they were shaking. They were so nervous and scared. The men and women that was in there, they was getting up, getting their hats, leaving out. They never said nothing, they just left.BRINSON: Were the waiters black or white?
COWANS: They were white. This was a, white restaurant that we were integrating.
And them, them girls was just shaking all over. ‘Cause they didn’t know what was going happen, any more than we knew what was going happen. But we didn’t go for trouble, we went to integrate that restaurant. And we had on these buttons.BRINSON: And did they serve you?
COWANS: Yes, they did. Yes, they sure did!
BRINSON: Did you like the food?
COWANS: It was delicious. (laughter Brinson) I had never, in my life, I don’t
think, had eaten clam chowder, until them.BRINSON: Hmm.
COWANS: And it was good, it was delicious.
BRINSON: That’s good.
COWANS: And the boys that wanted to stay in that restaurant--the whites--they
stayed there, they laughed, they talked to us; but the ones that didn’t want no part of it, they just politely got up with they wives and whoever, they left.BRINSON: Mm-hmm.
COWANS: Was not a cross word said.
BRINSON: Did the National Equal Rights Congress have a newsletter, or?
COWANS: Yes.
BRINSON: Printed literature?
COWANS: Yes, in them days, yes. And if I hadn’t done moved so many times, I—I
saved all the literature I had; but, uh, I lost them. Oh, I know, in the flood. I lost a lot of stuff in the flood.BRINSON: Mm-hmm. What flood?
COWANS: Uh, in Harlan County.
BRINSON: Okay.
COWANS: Uh, Back in the . .. seventy--sixty flood, you know, in the seventies.
Big floods that wash away everybody that lived, about, just about.BRINSON: Right.
COWANS: Uh, and, oh, but we were so, fortunate, that’s what I call it. Wasn’t
that nobody was scared of anybody, or, anybody went to make trouble; ‘cause, uh, up there where I come from, buddy, uh, them folks would kill they momma, if they got mad enough. So you knew we didn’t make no difference. But we just—everybody knew everybody, everybody grew up together, you know, and okay, if that’s what it take. You know, we just--we’ll go along. [Clears throat.] I’m trying to think of the year that, uh--what’s the name of that, ooh, Duke—Duke--Klan leader?BRINSON: Oh, David Duke.
COWANS: David Duke come to Harlan and burnt a cross.
[Sound of child running into room, breathing heavily. Tape clicks off and on.]
BRINSON: So David Duke came to burn a cross?
COWANS: We lived at Evarts, but, even, one mile from Evarts was called Verta, a
little community.BRINSON: How do you spell that?
COWANS: V-E-R-D-A. Verda, Kentucky. David Duke burned, and, and the folks come
down and burned a cross. Now I’m going tell you something, honey. My oldest children at that time, my oldest son--had—they had just graduated from high school. The white boys, they had graduated and left. Some was in Cincinnati, some was in Indiana, Detroit, they migrated different places. But when they read about them, uh, Klansmen was going to meet in Verda? Them boys came home. These white boys. To get with the black boys. They brought all kinds of ammunition. Yes they did!BRINSON: Wow.
COWANS: My son, told me, he said, “Mama,” little place about half a mile from
where we live called Kilday. He said, “I just come from Kilday.”[Child running and yelling; tape clicks off and on.]
COWANS: And, uh, he said, “Mama,” said, “I’ve been over on Kilday Hill.” And I
said, “What, what you doing over there?” He said, he went to naming all the boys that come home, when they read about this cross-burning and all going to be there, in Verda? “Them white boys came home,” and he said, “Mama, you, you oughta see the ammunition and things that they got.” Said, “Look like an arsenal. And these white boys and. .. armed all of these black boys.”BRINSON: Did they ever have to …?
COWANS: Wait, they, they had to--the meeting down there, in Verda. Them white
boys was all--and black boys all up in the trees. Up, around there, but in the trees, up on the hill there, prepared for anything they wanted to start. But as God would have it—they burnt the cross—(to child) Come here, you come to me, now! (tape clicks off and on.) And as God would have it, David Duke made his speech. David Duke made his speech. He came out in that Harlan paper, didn’t put out much about it. Harlan Daily Enterprise. But the Louisville Times, they were there, oh, the media was there from everywhere. And he made this big speech. And the Louisville Times got it. And it, uh, I wrote a response, to David Duke. I wrote a response. In the Harlan coal miner’s paper. They had just started, that coal mining paper. And I knew everybody in Harlan County would get one. And I wrote a response to David Duke. But, I, always been some trying and close times, but, we never had no physical action. And, now, maybe, I might find that paper, ‘cause I got it somewhere, and I’d send it to you so you could read it for yourself.BRINSON: That would be great.
COWANS: So you can read it for yourself.
BRINSON: I’d make a copy and …
COWANS: Yeah.
BRINSON: …bring the original back.
COWANS: Yeah, yeah, I got it, but I’ve got to find it.
BRINSON: Before we, we stop, let me just ask you, how many children do you have,
and how many grandchildren do you have; and how many great-grandchildren do you have?COWANS: I got, um, I got, uh, ten living children—I had eleven, raised eleven
out of sixteen pregnancies.BRINSON: Mm-hmm.
COWANS: But I lost, my son, last year, right after I lost my husband. I’d never
buried a grown child and he was forty-five. So I got ten living now, that I birthed. But I raised foster children. I raised, uh, two, that, of my husband’s people--uh, family had died, mother and father--I raised that boy and girl. That was her on the phone just now talking to you. And, uh, I’ve foster kids that reckon down there--foster care records will show you how many foster kids that I’ve been--had in my home. And one boy. . . that foster care could not do nothing with, Gene Jones, black boy. They had sent him out of state, time and again, and in state he wouldn’t stay no where. They just couldn’t do—this boy was sixteen years old, when they brought him in my house over on Eastfield Street. They said, “Wanted to know if I could just keep him over the weekend, till they could find a place to keep him.” And I told them, “Yeah.” And he said, you could just tell he had a grudge against the world. And I said, “I’m talking to you, me and my husband.” We said, “Gene,” said, “We’ve got you here for the weekend, now we’re not going to mistreat you, we’re not going to abuse you, nobody in this house is going to do that. And you are not going to do that to nobody either.” “Long as you in my house,” I said, “Won’t work. You be nice, ‘cause, that’s what we going be.” I talked—You know how old that boy was when he left my house? Twenty-one. And didn’t want to leave then! They got the record down there they couldn’t find nobody could handle that boy.BRINSON: How many grandchildren do you have?
COWANS: Got about. .. oh my Lordy, I—I got about a. . . ten, lalalala, I think I
got about, ah, forty-five grandchildren.BRINSON: Wow.
COWANS: The last count I had.
BRINSON: Okay. And how—and great-grandchildren?
COWANS: I got. . .about twenty-five great-grandchildren. And I got one, two,
three—oh, about eight great-grands, great-great grands.BRINSON: Right. That’s a big family.
COWANS: It is a family. The fifth—you see that little baby here, that’s my fifth generation.
BRINSON: Wow.
COWANS: And my momma lived to see her fifth generation. That boy was twenty
years old when she died. And that was her fifth generation.BRINSON: That’s wonderful.
COWANS: Yes.
BRINSON: I’m going to stop the tape, thank you very much for talking.
COWANS: Well, thank you.
END OF INTERVIEW
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