A HARROWING CHILDHOOD EXPERIENCE

By Oliver L. Howard

This year marks the 9^th year of the Howard Family reunion, which first met in that state where our roots are solidly planted, Macon, Georgia 1980. Each year since that day we have come together from various parts of the country to celebrate our kinship and honor those who made it possible.

Like the pieces of a puzzle, each representing a significant lineage to the puzzle, we close ranks and become one with the single purpose of mind and spirit which is to preserve our historical roots for those generations of Howards who succeed us.

Although this is an occasion we look to each year for fun and relaxation, we should ever be reminded of the long and arduous struggle and supreme sacrifices our relatives made that allowed us to enjoy this day, at this hour.

As I prepare for this reunion I am reminded of an incident told to me at our first family reunion by Uncle Obie in his home. We had gone there to seek information about our family history and hoped he could provide this. 

However, we were to learn about a frightening ordeal that probably happened in the late 1800’s somewhere in the state of Georgia.

This was during the time after reconstruction a period long after the Civil War and many plantation owners had lost their land and were bitter toward Blacks who were seen somehow as responsible for their hardships. The Civil Rights Act of 1875 had been ruled unconstitutional, the Republican Party had withdrawn its support of Blacks, and white southerners had free rein to victimize Blacks.

The night this incident happened was like many other nights on a farm when after supper the older people would sit and talk after the children went to bed. Uncle Obie said it seemed he had just fell asleep along with his brothers and sisters when he was awakened by shouts from his parents telling the children to get up and get out of the house.* 

Probing his mind as if he was reliving that night, he continued. The children had no time to dress as they were yanked from their beds and pushed out the door and told to run into the woods.

It had rained for most of the day and the clouds covered the usually bright moonlight, making it impossible to see where you were going. As a child growing up in the South he was aware that Blacks were treated badly, but this was different, he could tell by the anguish in the voices of the grownups that this was life-threatening.

He could hear the shouts of angry white men somewhere behind him as he ran through the woods, as the voices from the white men behind him grew more distant he chanced a look over his shoulder and could see the glow from a fire in the direction of his house.

Uncle Obie never finished this story, we had talked for some time and I could see he was growing tired. He promised me that he would finish this story the next day, however, I was unable to return.

I have attempted to re-construct the events of that night without the benefit of an eyewitness by seeking information from our relatives and Uncle Obie’s immediate family. For the most part this story has been completed and should make for very interesting reading. 

This fall, I will publish the story in the AGI REPORT (Oliver’s newsletter) and copies of this issue will be sent to family members. I can assure you that the events of that period will captivate your attention.

                _____________________

* This incident likely occurred in the early 1900s rather than the late 1800s. Obie could only have experienced it as a young boy sometime after 1900, the year he was born. (The 1910 Census lists him as a boy of 8 years old; the Census did not always get info correct when it came to Black people.) 

For Obie to remember it, the incident may have happened between 1905 and 1910. It was a time in U.S. history when whites were terrorizing Black citizens, particularly in the South.