The Remembrances of Shelley Burch Watson of Suffolk, Virginia Recorded at the home of his daughter Dolly Bell Watson Carr 204 South Broad Street Suffolk, Virginia June 9, 1979 by his son The Rev. Shelley Burch (Joel) Watson Jr. "Burch" would have been seventy-two at the time.

Shelley "Burch" Watson, ca. 1931

.... Oh, that's when I was rooming over there with a Mr. and Mrs. Citizen and Oh, gosh, that'll be in there won't it? (It's just for me.) You better cut it off a minute. I can't...I gotta get myself together again, I had it all in my mind.... (...In one of the letters your wrote me, you told me something about, you mentioned something about when you were little, and I thought "that's the first thing that I ever remember you telling me," and I just never heard you...) Well, you're starting there as a ... there's too many years in there from when I was little... Oh, I wasn't little when... (Oh, that's right, tell me about that and then go back to when you were little) Golly ding! I was trying to get a, some idea of where I went when I left Mrs. Citizen's. Can't think.... 'certainly wasn't there I left here [Suffolk] to go to Canada. I can't remember... and yet it was along that time see, 'cause I was at that time working at Planter's [Nut and Chocolate Company, Suffolk, Virginia]. And I can't remember..., you better let me think about it son, you'd better erase that and let me think about it. (No, because you think better, you think better...) Naw, no, I can't think, I can't think what happened to me when I, what happened in between from there as to where I went. (Well, tell me about living there.) At that place? (Yeah.) Oh, well, there was nothin' to tell there, I was just rooming there... the place was perfectly clean... the room was without a doubt one of the cleanest places I have ever been in. (They were old?) "course it was the elderly people and nobody but just the three of us were there at the time (But how did you find out about it?) I don't remember that. I don't know where I got that information from, all I know is that I went and talked to them and they were glad for me to come there.... Who suggested me going there I don't know and I don't ever remember finding anything like that in the paper you know. (Tell me about Capron... what's the earliest thing you remember?) The earliest thing? Well the earliest thing I remember in there is where I was always playing under the house, with my little wooden trains that I built as I told you I had those little wooden blocks.... you could have a dozen or could have two... You see you make your own little train and you use an empty ah thread spool like your mother would take the thread off, drive a nail in, that was the smoke stack on the engine see, so that's how you could (they're re-selling those for forty-five dollars) well that that was the way the engine looked, you had to have then the caboose, then the other shorter piece to make build up like a caboose, then the other little cars in between which you could have any number as long as the string didn't break, you use little strings for couplin' and the sand was so dry that you could just run anywhere you want all the way under the house anywhere, you know, and it would follow right, it would stay always in the track, it was no pullin' off because it cut such a groove it would stay in there, you see. But that was one of my, one of the big things that even on a rainy day you could play there at that. Then we used to ah, the other kids around, ah, we'd go, what you call hoop-rollin' you know. Just imagine the old type of ah, tricycle they used to have... it didn't have rubber tires on it, it had a steel ring you know, well you pull all those out then you get yourself a good stick and you could run for yard after yard with a think like that ya know. Just playin', racin' with it and things like that. And then we used to have ah, another game we used to play... was takin', take an old can of some sort, it didn't matter what kind it was, we had a little wooden club there with a long wooden handle on it with a "T" at the bottom and you'd be knockin' that around and I've often thought about that... I don't know how old this golf game is in this country, but we were doin' the same thing, but we were doin' it with a tin can because we didn't have anything else to do it with. 's silly waddn't it? Well, that's the things kids had to do... Ah then, we used to have, ah, we had a big swing on the porch. That had like a little trestle in the bottom... of course, kids-like, you know, we wouldn't be satisfied sittin' in it like grown folks just swinging back and forth... we had to pull one... it had two seats in it. We'd pull one way as high as we could get it, take the trestle out of the bottom and use the other one really for a swing. So kids, kids along that time of [?], we didn't have that many things to do, but we had enough to entertain us, to keep us out of trouble you know. Of course you didn't think about trouble or anything like that in those times. And then that went on. And then we had, had this goat-- billy goat with a little wagon. And it would carry two people in it. We'd hook that up nearly every day and go for a ride somewhere. (Did it have a name?) No. Not... I don't remember any name. But all I remember was a billy goat. And I can remember that... do severely...the back end! I mean you... one of the biggest goats I ever say. And had the longest horns you ever saw. But he could pull that thing. When he was pulling.... I mean he never got tired, he just kept right on running. He'd ride all 'round Capron. 'Course Capron wasn't very big you know. Ah, we'd ride down the whole length of "The Main Street" I call it, and back again. And then, which right to this day, there's some of the old... I call 'em shanty houses, are still built there. They're still standing to this day! (I'll be darn.) Yeah they are! And you can hardly believe that people ever lived in 'em, but they did. And then, ah, across the street from us lived Mr. and Mrs. John Vincent. That was, I think I showed you that house one time, how it always reminds me of the Phantom of the Opera, that old place you know. On Sunday of course we went to the Methodist Church. But it was like I said, I can't remember being a Methodist whatever that, I can be sure in my mind that the ah, the ah baptismal pool was there because we went up the back window to get into it! And I can't be sure whether it was the Baptist or the Methodist Church. But we went to the Methodist Church. I was a Methodist. (Who used to do that?) (Who did you play with?) Well, 'twas just kids my age. I can't think of all their names. In fact, I can't think of the Rollings's. The Rollingses and the Reesees were about the biggest. They used to run a big grocery store there you know. And you'd go down there. But I can't remember any of the names of the children. That's too far back for me you know. Because they didn't mean much. A, the goat was more important. And the little deer that used to run around in the house. That was important see. But the names of the children didn't mean that much. But when we were seven was when ah, my Daddy moved to Suffolk. He was with the Truitt, The G. W. Truitt Lumber Company there. And ah, he came to Suffolk. Truitt was still.... That's where Truitt's plant was, here in Suffolk. And ah, that was... At that time everything had to be hauled on the railroad, in boxcars. And I of course, being a young'un-like, everybody was down there at the station to see the stuff being hauled and put into the boxcars to bring that to Suffolk. That was a big deal you know-- movin' away in a train...those days.... And then when I used to..., after we came here to the city, I was I believe seven years old. And I went to the George Mason School. And I believe Erma Hurff, which I think she may still be living today.... Did you remember her? (Yeah, I remember.) Well I think she is (She was old when I was....) Yeah, that's right. And I went to George Mason School. And ah, 'course I always liked her. To me she was a good teacher. I learned from her. (What grade was that?) Ah, can't remember the...if that was the first grade or the second grade. Seems to me it was the second grade, but I can't pick that first grade you know. It's kinds hard to get 'em. (I get confused first, second and third grade.) Yeah, when you think about it. Of course, and then as the years went on we.... I may have []m when, I think there came a time that when you got up to a certain grade you could go over to the, what's now the Old Suffolk High School you know, Thomas Jefferson School it was then. Daddy went to see John E. Martin which was at that time the Superintendent, and asked him about gettin' me and one of my other brothers, I think 'twas Otto, transferred over to that school. I don't know what the particular reason was but 'twas something anyway, and John E. Martin says "Well O.K." so that's how we got over there to that school. And then we...living on Pinner Street at that time. Seems to me the number was three hundred and nine Pinner Street. And it was right across the street from old John, John B. Pinner. He was the peanut man and his son John F. Pinner built a house, built his home right down on the corner which is still standing today-- the corner of Finney Avenue and Pinner Street. And ah, I used to play with Dick Hume. (Hume?) Dick Hume. Richard Hume his name was. H-U-M-E, uh-huh. Edward Everett , Jack Pinner. And Jack Pinner down there... that was...he and Edward Everett, they were somethin'. They had ponies and we didn't have any! (Where did they keep them?) I don't know. They kept them somewhere around there. I don't know just where they kept them. But they rode 'em every day. (They kept them in town?) Right! Sure did! Pinner Street didn't always have that roadway like you see it now. It sure didn't! I'll tell you now crude it was. Ah, this is long before your time.... The water wagon used to come down Pinner Street and ah, a great big water tank you see. And it had like a cup on either side. And the whole spout was shooting down just like it hit into a saucer and that threw the water as you do it like today with a water spigot. They watered the street to keep the dust down (It was dirt?) It was a dirt road! (I'll be damned!) Yes sir! It shore was! (Pinner Street?!) That's a long time ago id'n't it? And, and that how we could ride out there on those horses, so, I had... I guess I rode Edward Everett's horse, pony, and Jack Pinner's almost as much as they did. Because they were the kids I was playing with you see. And of course my older brothers, they had playmates of their own. They were too old for me. You know how the older ones are-- "You stay home!" See. So. I don't know where they went. I think most of the time they spent was down there around the Kingsborough bridge, what they used to call "Chicken Hill." Well, you had to be ah, tough... (What? Around the "hill?") Huh? (Around at the bridge?) Uh-huh, on this side, this side of the bridge, like you're going to Norfolk? (Yeah.) Well from Central Avenue to the bridge was called "Chicken Hill" (I didn't know that), and they were tough. Everything, they were in there was really tough. (I didn't know that). Yeah. They were the fellows they would play with. I can remember some of the names: Thornton Early was one, ah, Willard Matthews-- he lives right there close to the bridge...ah, Steven Wilkins, and he was just as tough as goard guts...he really was, and he lives right there...ah, behind, in the first house behind which today is...a grocery was a grocery store run by Almond [Allmond?]. A fellow named Almond. And he lived in that house. (Ben Traylor's store? Or right at the bridge?) Well, no, no. I think Traylor used to run that store or still runs it or something. (So that's the store then?) That's the, that's, that's the original store that was there when I was a little boy. (I'll be darn). Uh huh, and Steven Wilkins lived in the first house and then these other fellows, ah, 'course I didn't,...Edward Everett and, ah, Jack Pinner and myself...we didn't venture, hah, and Sam Brockenborough, you remember that name? (I know the name). Well he lives right there on the corner of ah, Grace Street and Pinner Street in a house that, ah, ah, I think the man that used to run a furniture business bought that house that...I can't think of what her name is right now, but I'll think of it pres'n'ly. And ah...that...we bunch of boys...stayed like down our end of the street and because if you went down to "Chicken Hill" you were just libel like to wind-up in a fight over there. Ah, and 'specially if you cross, if Chicken Hill gang, I don't know who the gang was on the other side, this is all could...you could find about in the city, but "Chicken Hill" if they got mad enough, they'd cross the bridge and go over and fight with the guys on the Kingsboro side [We all lived in Kingsboro from about 1949 until about 1954, at 208 Katherine Street]. Yeah; yes Sir, I’ve seen many-a-one pop, ah, after they've been in a fight and hit in the side of the head with a rock you know. But there was some of the beginnings of the, ah, most of my childhood days, the other time I spent of course going to school, trying to learn some common sense, and ah, I don't think I've left anything out son, (You're talking about ah, selling newspapers). Oh, during the, during the time I was living on Pinner Street, at 309, which I think today, I believe it was turned into a two-family apartment or something, and I believe that old house is still standing there. (It was one family then?) Huh? Un huh. My Daddy rented the whole house and he rented this house from ah, what was called her? Her name was Caddie Riddick, whe owned right much property. (Callie Riddick?) Caddie Riddick. She was a relative of a...of a...Beverley Holiday [Daddy's doctor]. She owned that house, you see...at the time...see when we lived there...that's when my mother was taken so ill, you see, and ah, during that time...I'm having lots to remember there...during that time was when one night they thought she was dead, and they woke everybody up in the house, and, and ah, so I got up, and we went into the bedroom [the mantle clock strikes four times. Dolly still has that clock. It was Seth Thomas that was always on the mantle at Nanny and Grump's house on Cedar Street], and had a dress, I think they call it a shroud or somethin' in those days, that they were gonna put on her, and she opened her eyes and asked us,"What are you all doin'?" You see... that was kinda hard you know. I heard that. (You heard her say it?) I heard her say that thing, and, and it, it scared me too you see. See, they're things that ah, you carry in here [pointing to his heart] all your life. But however, she got better, and then, ah, I think, ah, that, that, ah, I... I think it was maybe one or two days later, that's when she really died. But going back to the otther part of those days, ah, before all this took place, is when, oh, Daddy went to Emporia to see the old Dr. Wood about her. You see, and ah, he said, well the thing to do is to try to get her to Emporia and he would try, he would look after her. I don't believe he was practicing medicine at the time. But he would look after her as long as he could and as long as she was staying in Emporia, see, and he did that. And in the meantime, I figured, well, I might as well do somethin' and so ah, my ah, Mrs. Gray [a cousin?] She, her boy had change, he was carrying papers for "Th' Virginian Pilot," he'd pick 'em up off the Southern train in the mornin' and carry the papers, Well, so, he gave me that job. He just gave it up. And I carried, so I carried "The Virginian Pilot."  [Here in Suffolk?] No, in Emporia. I never carried papers in Suffolk. [She was a cousin?]. Humm? [Your cousin?] My cousin? [Yeah.] Yeah, yeah. [Mrs. Gray?] She was my cousin, my Aunt. And it was, he was my cousin, and he was the one that used to carry the papers. [What was his name?] Huh? [Do you remember his name?] Ah, I believe it eas William. It was. William. Sure was. And he jus', of course he was gettin' kinda big, and he didn't bother with it any more and so I just took it from there. And I had a little wagon... it... I would meet the train every day and get those papers and an, 'course she was billed for 'em you see, but I'd get 'em because she knew exactly how many customers I had, and I had a wagon, a four wheel wagon, I had so many papers it was impossible to carry 'em under your arm. You just couldn't do that and I had to tie 'em doen and as I went along you know, just throw 'em up on the porches for the people, so the paper delivery is just about the same thing that it is today, you still throw 'em up on the porch. Except I had one customer that would never pay, I could never get 'em and he and his Daddy both died still owing me for "The Virginian Pilot!" Seems kinda strange duddn't it, but that's the truth. [Funny thing, like that.] Yeah, And I can tell you what their names are. Their names were Ayers. E. W. Ayers and Son. They were candy makers in Emporia. And they were good ones! They made some beautiful candy. I used to go up there, but I could't get my money, you see for my paper. SO I just stopped carrin' the paper; to them; 'cause I could never collect anything, see, and I found out that they, my aunt was paying for the paper and they were doin' the reading. So I just stopped delivering the paper. But however it was not too long they moved to Suffolk, up here on Washington Stree., and opened up a little candy shop up there. And then, maybe I shouldn't 'ave even mentioned the papers because they were mighty good to me, years later, I'll never forget 'em for this, ah, They also had an ice cream place. They used to make ice cream right there the corner of ... Pine and Washington Street and I was at that time clerkin' at the A&P store... you know, those same men... It may sound jumpy around to you but I have to fit it in, like that to follow the same, thing, ah, some people they, they used to make this ice cream and I was working' at the A&P from four o'clock in the afternoon an, 'til six-thirty and all day Saturdays. And they'd make ice cream maybe twice a week. And ah, I don't ah, I've often thought it, and ah, because they would make their ice cream, they would come over and knock on the door and tell me to 'come on over and bring a grea-a-a-t big tray and I'd take the biggest tray that I could find which would hold five pounds of lard and go over there  and fill it up...(for free?) with ice cream, Yeah, 'course when they make the ice cream they've gotta wash 'em out anyhow, so they'd give you a great big scoop and you could fill 'em up or take as much as you want, so I, I was paid far more in ice cream, for me and the manager of the store. 'was named Mickey May, and as, we used to sit and eat ice cream 'til you couldn't hardly stand up... over in the A&P store. And, and down I think it was, one, next door or two doors down, was a DP store there, you know, David Pender? (down from the A&P or?) Yeah, from the A&P, you see. See, he had his ice cream place back there, then the A&P was there, then ah, ah, you see, it seems to me there was a, it seems to me there was a, it seems to me Walter Hosier had some kinda insurance business in a little cuddyhole in between the A&P and the DP store. (And this was on Saratoga?) Huh? no, this is on a, that's when the two doors, ah, two doors and that little cuddyhole from Pine Street, you see, and, and, I've often, often thought of it how names really get around to it and how this thing came about. And I've sat here in this room, and thought about it a lotta times-- how strange things work! Well, anyway... Oh, I worked, ah, there until Mickey May decided one day he had, he just had to be off. And he told the manager that he wanted to be off that particular day, and this, not the manager, the assistant, ah, whaddya, assistant to the ' he was, and he blew a fuse, he didn't want him to be off. He said, 'Well,' and his name was Flowers, he said, 'Mr. Flowers I'm gon' [pronounced with a long "O"] be off, like I said,' he said, "you can come down here, do anything you like.' He says 'I'm gonna give Burch the keys; he's gonna open that store and when you come he can give you the keys.' He said "If you wanna kick me out you can do that too.' And Mickey didn't come that mornin'. He gave me the keys the night before. Sure enough the next day down comes the big shot you know. And he hit the ceiling. I said, 'Well Mr. Flowers all I can tell you is I heard him tell you that he wasn't gonna be here, that he was gonna give me the keys' and I said 'Here they are.' So I gave him back the keys. Then they brought another fellow there named Tom Jobe, J-O-B-E, and he worked quite a while; but he wasn't the same type of man that was working for, So, ah, and I didn't stay much longer. Let's see, how long did I stay after that? Oh, I worked then on until,... as I said while I was working there, I was livin' with my older sister, which ah, and I did the best I could, I was trying to go to school and trying to earn....[here the tape ended and the conversation between the two tapes was lost]. "Is it on now? (Yeah.) Well, how do you know where I stopped? (you were talking about ah,) I mean how do you know where it is? (Well that was just the end of the tape, so I put it on the other side of the tape.) Oh, [he laughs], If I kept on talking after the end of the tape there's bound to be somethin' missin'--- that'd be be like Nixon's tape. [No Daddy, this tape is far more valuable to me than Nixon's tape, and I am sorry that his name even is to be found in this manuscript.] (You were talking about leaving the keys and then Tom... you started out with a man named Jobe) Yeah, along, yeah, Tom Jobe came there. But ah, in the meantime, ah, I was at that time had gotten into the tenth grade, and I could ah, ah, I was doin' the best I could... just bein' a boy. I was at that time just seventeen then, so I worked there, with them until my sister told me that she just, I'd just have to stop school and get somethin' to do 'cause she couldn't take care of me...[Daddy quavered here] you know. And, 'course, I was hurt, but ... I had... there was nothin' I could do about that, you see. So, ah, that's when I went down to see Mr. Obici [Amadeo Obici, the founder of Planter's Peanut and Chocolate Co.]. I didn't have any, I had a penny, that's all the money I had left, and ah, I went to see him and got the job with ah, ah, Planter's, which he personally told ah, Frank Patrick, the Superintendent of Planter's then, that to see that I had a job to do and he was--- and I went and did that for him. And however, 'course there's a lot in there, a million things that's in between, I can think of all of 'em it would take more than one tape (well, I've got some more tape) to tell it all to you, but I'll try to get as much of it all in there as I can, so--- in the time that I went there I felt like, well I'm gonna work hard, he put me, he put me in the print shop which was run by a Frank Krize, he was a German (how do you spell that?) K-R-I-Z-E, (Oh!), Frank Krize (I've heard of him) I know you have. And he was ____ good to me and he saw that I was trying and it didn't make any difference to me...

 Edward Everett was the husband of "Miss" Dolly and Shelley's piano teacher Gillette Everett. When we first began taking lessons, she was "Miss White." Her, and later their, home was directly across the street from the First Baptist Church. It was later bought by that church and torn down to make a parking lot. Jack Pinner's son Johnny Pinner and Shelley were friends when they were very young. They too went to George Mason School.