Rufus

On May 30, 1938, Louise Elizabeth and James Lovell Stephenson became my parents. I am Rufus Franklin, their second-oldest son, born in Meridian, Mississippi. My brother, James Kennie, who was 17 months older than me, was born there too. Like most babies in those days, we were born at home, delivered by a midwife. Our dad had also been born at home, to Frank Stephenson and Eula Lee Gipson Stephenson. They were sharecrop cotton farmers, and that was the only life my dad knew until he was 17. Dad and his family cultivated cotton and corn with walking plows pulled by mules. They lived in an old, unpainted, run-down shack without electricity or indoor plumbing. His mother cooked on a wood stove and heated the house with a fireplace. Out back was a two-seater outhouse. It was hard for him and his family during his childhood, and it never got any better. Payday came once each year after harvest. Money was scarce and there was never enough to take care of the family needs, though they grew most of their food in a garden that allowed them to raise vegetables year-round. Early one morning, just before Dad’s thirteenth birthday, he discovered his father lying face down on a dusty footpath. He had suffered a massive heart attack at the age of 42 on the way to the cotton field. He left behind a wife, three sons, a daughter, and two crops in the field yet to harvest. Dad became the man of the house at that young age and would continue working the farm with his mother, his two younger brothers, Sydney and Alton, and Ruth, his baby sister. There were 20 acres of cotton to be picked by the middle of September and 30 acres of corn to harvest before Thanksgiving! Even with my grandfather’s help, harvest would have been a major job. Now they had to depend on other families and friends if they needed help. On July 9, 1928, four days after his death, Grandpa was buried, and my dad’s childhood ended that fateful day. He would now assume the responsibility of an adult. He and his family were back working the day after the funeral. Family and friends would help when they could, but life for the Stephensons would never be the same. There was no welfare system for the needy back then. The family depended on their garden, along with wild game and fish from the nearby forest and creek, for most of their food. Grandma never married again. She did her best to raise her four kids all alone. The cotton picking began in the middle of August and it kept them busy through September. Corn harvest time was in November and they hoped to be finished by Thanksgiving. Their life and future had changed drastically, and their dreams had vanished. This tragedy left the family devastated and Dad’s mother prayed for the strength to go on. Sharecrop farming would not be available to the family the following year, but the land owner agreed to let them live in the old shack at no cost and continue raising a garden. This would supply most of their food, but they had no money for their other needs. Their only help would come from family and friends until Dad’s uncle, J.V. Gipson, got him a job as a page boy at the Mississippi state capital in Jackson. On October 13th, 1928, Dad turned 13 and he began working as a page boy the following spring after school was out. He would work four months each summer and when he was not working in Jackson, he and his brother Sidney earned a few dollars doing odd jobs for local farmers. This helped carry them over until he went back to work in Jackson with his uncle. Dad’s page boy job at the capitol was the family’s main source of income, providing for their basic needs, but any other means of earning a wage were always welcome. He even got in the ring with other kids his age and made a few extra bucks boxing. From stories I was told, Dad was a hard worker and tough as nails. Having grown up during hard times, he wasn't scared of anything and he helped his family survive the Great Depression. Losing his dad and taking on the responsibility of an adult was a burden on his shoulders, but he handled it like a grown man. While continuing to live in the old sharecrop shack, Dad and his two younger brothers worked any job that came their way. They all attended school but never had proper clothes and food was scarce.