Gracie Hall-Hampton
The Arkansas Years, 1917-1953
by
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"Oh, I know if you had saw anything you would tell me. I am doggone sure of that, Rand, ‘cause you good people. What were you and your grandson doing out here?" "I was takin’ Peanut here up to Papa Warner's store for a candy cane and soda pop." "Peanut? Now what in the world is a peanut, and what is your real name son?” "Peanut is what they call me. My real name is Rand Tatum III suh." "That's a long moniker. I think Peanut will do just fine. Go over there and tell the Deputy to get that candy cane out of my little bag and give it to you, ‘cause you and me are gonna be friends just like me and your grandpa is. Go on now…," he urged. Peanut, ever so grateful somebody remembered what this trip was about, thanked the sheriff and ran over to where his deputy was waving goodbye to the part time coroner. He happily relayed the news, walking and skipping with the deputy to the police vehicle. The boy grabbed the candy cane like it was lost treasure and began to enjoy the red stripped flavored cane. While Sheriff Dan Penelton and Rand reminisced about the good old days, how things have changes yet stayed the same, the deputy and Peanut was carrying on all kind of conversations. "Tell me something, Peanut, where did that car go? You know the one that ran those nice folks off the road. Did you see which direction it was going?" "Sho’, it went up in that little road over there." It took him a minute but he stopped licking the candy cane, realizing what he'd said. He looked at his hand still pointing to the road the deputy knew as the turnoff to Harvey Sampson's farm. Dropping the candy in the dirt, he ran back to his grandpa's side and grabbed his hand. There was no need to tell his grandfather what happen, the old man knew the cat was out of the bag. Deputy Stovall picked up the candy cane, washed it off with water from a canteen he had in the vehicle, and dried it with a paper towel. He then joined the two men and the boy standing over by where the two bodies once laid before being removed by the part time coroner. The three man clean-up crew was working quickly to clean up the debris. They had already hoisted the dead horse onto their wagon team to clear the road. Now they were picking up the last bit of the shattered wagon. The Sheriff, too realizing that these two individuals, a man he had grown up respecting and who he reminded of that fact now, and his grandson had additional information that may lead them to who committed this act of murder on the road. He stared at Rand, who returned his gaze with a guilty expression. Rand looked at Peanut who looked to him for acceptance and guidance more so ever right now. "It's alright Pea. We have a duty to the two people who lost their life today. It just wouldn’t be right not to tell what we saw." Rand went on to provide in detail all that he witnessed, including when the auto began to speed up after spotting Viola and Edgar in the wagon. Then, driving straight toward the couple, and at the last minute, trying to swerve around them, causing the wagon to overturn, etc. etc. Finally, just as Peanut had told the deputy, the car, being driven by a white man whose description fit Bob, with another white man in the passenger seat, that was either Clarke's twin or Clarke himself. Rand concluded by adding, despite the horse damaging the back of the vehicle, the driver managed to get control driving off and turning right onto the Sampson road. Resolved to reviewing pictures of Bob and Clarke for an exact identification, Rand and Peanut joined the sheriff and deputy on their ride to the office. Peanut felt relieved that he could talk about this, especially to his parents. He was also being reacquainted with the candy cane. Rand Tatum felt a sense of relief too. He didn't realize the burden he was putting on himself and his grandson. What kind of role model was he projecting if he withheld important information about a potential homicide of one of his own people?
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About the Book
I have learned over the years that there is no greater feeling of accomplishment than to give something of oneself in hopes that others will benefit from that gift. The idea was planted in my being by my father’s way of raising his children. It grew in leaps and bounds and, in fact, was magnified when actually I began to listen to stories about my family history.
I took those stories passed on to me by my father, mother, grandmother, and other family members to form a story about my Grandmother Gracie Hampton. It was her lifestyle, environment, conditions and timeline in which she lived, that is the story’s anchor, and my inspiration. And make no mistake, even though I have used the real names of the Hampton’s family central characters, and most relatives, all words written as dialog in this book are mine and mine alone. I’ve adding my words as dialog, along with a few fictional characters to facilitate a story line of how it could have happened during the events noted.
At times, it was a struggle to keep an eye on my purpose in life. God knows I have been distracted many times. Often, by my own misguided actions. Yet, I’ve always returned to my roots, the foundation of my upbringing, the unapologetic belief that I can not only survive but thrive and compete in any environment. I learned that from my ancestors. My youngest son, once remarked, “I’m not sure who I am.” At the time, he was going through an identity crisis trying to find out where he belonged in life. My advice was simple, “Go look in the mirror. That’s who you are and who will get you where you want to go.”
I hope this book helps others remember who and where they came from.
Codis Hampton II
About the Author
By going back to school as a young adult, I was introduced to Abraham H. Maslow, (1908-1970), A well respected psychologist and his famous Hierarchy of Needs. Mr. Maslow theory is that each individual is motivated by needs. So much so that we spend a lifetime going up and down a pyramid of needs beginning with Physiological, through Safety, Love/Belonging, and Esteem, up through Self-actualization. I found his pyramid of needs which details the different levels; addressed a lot of loose ends for me. It spoke to my life goals and the reasons for a lot of my decisions on certain matters.
I’d been chasing self-independence which led me to open a retail business. Success with no capital for expansion led to its closure. I wanted a career, not just a job. I needed to be in charge of my own destiny. In 1978, I left my beloved Milwaukee and moved to California where a Civil Service position awaited. It turned out to be one of the best decisions my wife, and I have ever made.
A few years before retiring from the “rat race” in 1996, I discovered my true love, writing. I started by publishing an online newsletter with my own opinionated articles leading off each issue. I graduated by writing my first book, Unchon-ni, a semi-biography tale about my military tour in Korea in the early sixties.
In this politically charged year of 2013, most people have become accustomed to instant critique and sound bites from various media. The truth is often bent; twisted, shredded, and repackaged to resemble something that your conscious tells you is a lie. Independent thinking is not a lost art. Just because people with those types of opinions seem to dominate the landscape, they are still the minority, no matter their color or creed.
It’s these life altering events that shape a person, a family, a neighborhood, and a community. The truth must be treasured and not compromised. Those real experiences supply the foundation upon which we are built and thus enable us to do the right thing based upon facts. That is the creed upon which I’ve based my life in every circumstance. No matter what, somehow one should always do the right thing for all involved. It keeps one grounded.