Banning High School - San Gorgonian Yearbook (Banning, CA)

Page 26 text:

Very happy were they on this day, those carefree negroes, who had so little worldly goods but who were so contented and happy with what little they owned. Aunt Mandy, a good natured soul of about fifty years of age and some two hun- dred pounds in weight came from her cabin. Immediately a scream went up among the children, and they all ran to her, “Won't you please sing us a song, Aunt Mandy?” cried Liza, a long legged girl of ten. “Lawd, chillens, Aunt Mandy ain’t got no time for to sing you all no song, Yo’ jest run along and let old. aunty be,” replied Aunt Mandy. “No, no, Aunty, won’t yo’ please sing us jest one little song?” “All right den’ I will. Which un’ does yo’ want me to sing?” “Sing the one about the turkey,” said Rastus. Aunt Mandy picked up the smallest child in the group, put him on her knee, and rolling her eyes began to sing: “A-way down yander in the lot— De’ gander walk and the toikey he trot.” She sang this, Baa Baa Black Sheep, Johnny Get Your Gun, and Swing Low Sweet Chariot before the children would let her stop. When she finished at last and sent the children off to bed, Angeline came over to her, “Hello, Angeline. Sit down dere; I hain’t seen you since Buck wuz a calf. Whar hab you been keeping yoself heah lately “T ain’t been no place in particular, Aunt Mandy, jest kinda busy, dat’s all. I sez to myself tonite that it wuz about time I wuz a callin’ on you, and I come over to set awhile. How is things a goin’ on up at the big house?” “Fine as silk, Angeline. Say, reckon we'll have a pretty big crowd heah to- morrow. Don’t you?” ; “Yeah, I suppose we will. Alfonso sez that a lot of folks is a comin’ frum clean up Thomasville way. By the way, Aunt Mandy, will you tell me why Granny Cindy won’t come out of her cabin any durin’ the watermelon feast? Yestiddy I sez to her, sez I, ‘Is yo’ planning on a big time tomorrow, Granny?’ And she jest stared at me kinda queerish like and sez, ‘Go long chile, yo’ jest go long and let old Granny be.’ How come she do like that Aunt Mandy?” “Well, Angeline, yo’ jest sit still, an’ I will tell yo’ all about it.” “Jest forty years ago tonight all of us wuz a sittin’ around heah jest as we all is now an’ a plannin’ on wot a good time we wuz all a goin’ to have the next dayanI wuz jest about ten den, and and Granny Cindy wuz twenty and the belle of the colony, and she had jest married Moses Johnson that day. Moses wuz twenty-one and as fine a looking a young man as you would ever expect to see. They was gure- ly one happy couple dat day, and they had planned to stay heah until after the water- melon feast, and ‘en they wuz a goin’ to go clean up to Thomasville on their honey- moon. “Well, the day of the feast came, an’ we all had as good a time as we could and ate all dat we could hold, an’ dat night they all wuz a dancin,’ All ob dem wuz a dancin,’ and, chile alive, yo’ ought to hab seen Granny Cindy dance. Yo neber in yo’ life saw anybody what wuz half as good a dancer ag Granny Cindy—an’ Moses, why he wuz the best fiddler in the country. Honey lamb, onct yo’ heard him playin’ yo! feet would start to ticklin’ and’ yo’ couldn’t keep frum dancin’ if your feet wuz bound wid twine, “Well, dat night Moses wuz a playin’ an’ Granny Cindy wuz a settin’ by an’ a- PAGE TWENTY

Page 25 text:

“ LITERARY SECTION DESERT GLORIES High above the silent desert Then retires from sight leaving the world Slowly, softly, shadows shorten, All alone. As the sun climbs high and higher. Slowly the shadows of cacti lengthen, Sun-baked flowers look up and smile, But still the sun throws out its beauty, Soon to wince at the gaze of the sun; Reflecting colors in the sky. Sands reflect the morning radiance, Here a splash of golden yellow, Brightening the drab dunes of the waste There a streak of glowing rose Separated, joined and mingled With the blue of skies beyond. In the hidden glories of the twilight Shadows softly seem to deepen, And the splendors of the sand dunes Wrap themselves in darkest night, Hager to find a cooler place And like sentinels of the desert To rest their hot and sun-scorched feet. Cacti stand alone and watch, A desert bird appears in haste, Guarding o’er the waste land treasures Utters a short-breathed, panting cry Till they sparkle with the sun. From a dry and heat parched throat, —Dorothy Page. land Into a blinding, sparkling world, Wrapped in stillness, Silent as death, Except for the snapping of a twig As rabbits scamper from shade to shade “MELON TIME IN DIXIE LAND” twilight; a still breeze was blowing, and the air was fra- It was a balmy summer with their day’s. work grant with the smell of summer flowers. All were through in the rear of Oak Dale plantation, and all was quiet except g of a banjo. The negro men were of the colony and were discus- out in the negro colony for the hum of voices and the occasional strummin gathered together over by the brick well in the center sing the events of their day in the fields. Small dusky pickaninnies were playing out in front of the crowded one and two room cabins. Angeline and Alfonso, the Romeo and Juliette of the colony, were sit- ting under a large oak out of sight of the colony, but Alfonso’s deep bass came floating back, singing: “Good night ma’ Angeline, Farewell ma’ gal so fin-nn-ee. Leaving time is grieving time. Hates to part with baby mine. Night time was made for loving, It’s the right time for turtle doving.” Old Granny Cindy was sitting on a soap box out in front of her cabin, smoking A great sorrow had befallen Granny many years before, and her old corn cob pipe. old pipe as her best friend and sits out in front of her cabin now she clings to her and smokes it all day long. Everyone was happy tonight, and why shouldn’t he be? Wasn’t tomorrow the happiest day of all the year? It was the day when all the darkies gathered together from miles around and celebrated the ripening of the watermelons. On this day of days every mammy had a new gingham gown. Many people came from miles around, and they were allowed to eat all of the beloved fruit that they could possibly hold as well as feast on possum pie, sweet taters, and other foods dear to the negro’s heart. In the evening they could dance to their hearts content and enjoy themselves as only a carefree darky can. PAGE NINETEEN

Page 27 text:

ttle un- ong 2 irl] Yo’ nd WwW er ar ry listin’ when up comes Massa Tom from the big house. I kin see him as plain as if it wuz yestiddy when he walked up, grabbed Moses by the collar, and sez: “‘TLas’ night dis heah negro came to my house and stole my daughter’s rubies an’ now he must come wid me.’ “Moses tole him dat he neber took the rubies. But did it do any good? No siree, not wib Massa Tom; he jest uped an’ took Uncle Moses off widout sayin’ a word to nobody, and we ain’t seen hair nor hide of Uncle Moses since dat night. We think dat he wuz put in jail, and he might be in jail yet. “Granny hasn’t danced a step since dat night forty long years ago, and Uncle Moses’ fiddle is still in her cabin, and it hasn’t been played since dat night when he wuz took away. We all hopes dat he will show up some day yit tho. Dat is all of the story, Angeline.” “I am sho’ glad thet yo’ tole me de story, Aunt Mandy. I thinks myself dat some day Uncle Moses will come back. Good night, Aunt Mandy.” “Good night, Angeline, yo’ go git some sleep now cause I thinks dat yo’ dancin’ feets will sho’ be in demand tomorrow.” The day of days dawned very fair, and the people began pouring in; some came in old rickety wagons, some in buggies, some on foot, some hobbled in on canes, and a few came on the cars. Those negroes enjoyed themselves that day as only negroes can, They sat around and cracked jokes on each other, ate until they were hardly able to get around, and lay out under the large oak trees. Some strummed banjos all day, and singing was heard the whole day through. Some small pickaninnies danced and played blind-man’s-bluff out in the sunshine. About eleven o’clock the negroes saw Miss Margaret from the big house coming toward them. She went straight over to the merry makers and asked for Angeline. She took Angeline aside, and they whispered for some time, and then they called Alfonso over. In a few minutes he and Miss Margaret went off, and Angeline came back to the negroes with her dusky face shining. They all crowded around and begged her to tell them what had taken place, but she only smiled and said, “Yo’ all jest wait, and tonight yo’ will sho’ hab one mo’ big surprise.” That night they had a barn dance, and all of the negroes were dancing, too busy enjoying themselves to notice the trio that was standing in the barn door. The trio consisted of Alfonso, Granny Cindy, and a bent old man. Granny Cindy’s face was beaming and so was the old man’s that was standing by her. Alfonso went up to the fiddler and whispered a few words to him, and before the dancers knew what was taking place the music changed, and they heard music such as they had never heard before or since. The strings of the violin fairly talked. And everyone stopped dancing and listened. It seemed as if the violin was telling the story of a lifetime. One minute you could hear laughter and the next, weeping. In the music were all the longings and hopes of a lifetime and all the joys and sorrows. And when the dancers recognized the player they were sure that he was playing the story of his life. He seemed to give them a picture of that wedding day so long ago, of his hopes of happiness and then his sorrows when he was put in prison and at the last his violin seemed to tell of his happiness when the rubies had been found and he had been released. The music became softer and softer now and at last died out. Old Uncle Moses stood still a moment, and it seemed as if he were going to fall, but he raised his bow once more and with trembling fingers played that age old favorite which will never cease to be popular with the darkies—Old Black Joe: “T’'m comin,’ I’m comin,’ Though my head is bending low, I hear their gentle voices calling, Old Black Joe.” PAGE TWENTY-ONE