Just Imagine. Cotton Fields! To many, especially those growing up on concrete in big cities, the thought of cotton fields probably conjures up romantic images of historical and fanciful times in the South; maybe the era of the famous book and movie, Gone With the Wind. Well, since I don't remember much about the 1860 period, let's just rewind the clock to about 1955.

If you aint' picked cotton, don't worry yourself over it, too much. Machines have, of course, replaced picking cotton by hand. I suspect there are a lot of people who haven't lost any sleep or romanticized over their cotton pick'in job being replaced by a machine, unless it was Fannie Hoskins.

Fannie must have been the cotton pickinest woman to ever drag a sack down a row. Okay, there was no southern cotton pickers association, so maybe no such title was ever granted to a cotton picker, but Fannie was a champion, pick'in 200 pounds a day by herself. Add to that, about 6 or 8 chillun helping her and the pounds added up. If you can't take my word for Fannie being a champion, then find yo' self a patch and try it; Then, we'll discuss what it takes to be a champion. I think my best day as a youngster of about 13 or 14 years was 65 or 70 pounds. A grown-up was expected to pick at least 100 pounds a day. When you realize that the pay for pick'in was $2 a hundred pounds, you understand the importance of crossing the hundred pound hurdle. A good size family might pick about a bale a day (500 pounds to a bale) You also have to understand that $2 would actually buy something then, like 6 loaves of bread, or 48 coca colas (2 cases), or 8 gallons of gas. So, 500 pounds meant $10 which would buy the family groceries for a week. Put in those terms, it doesn't sound quite so bad, hu? There are people who would debate that question so let's just say it's a good thing we have machines to do the job today. But, the cotton patch wasn't without it's pleasures and pleasant memories.

Pick'in was a social affair. With a dozen people slowly moving down rows, mostly together, there was time for lots of conversation about everything. Sometimes there was singing; usually some of the old time spiritual hymns. The adults would pick together and the chillun would pick together, not far from the adults. This was to accommodate both grown-up and chillun conversations. Sometimes the adults would make the little ones pick close by, when playing and horsing around got in the way of pick'in. Each child had to do his or her part because the family's total pounds for the day meant more money for the family.

The best part of pick'in cotton was get'in through it, reach'in the end of each day and laying a tired butt in the sheet of soft cotton under a shade. A sheet consisted of several burlap bags sewn together to form a cover to lay on the ground. Each picker had his or her own sheet where the day's pickins were piled and stored until the overseer came and weighed the days pick. There was always a bit of competition to see who had picked the most that day. The low picker had to work extra hard the next day to overcome the stigma of being the sorriest picker. There was a reputation to uphold or overcome whichever the case may have been. Cash payment for the days work came at the end of each day after the weighing was complete.

The next best thing about pick'in cotton was gett'in to ride to the gin on top of the big wagon, or trailer, or truck body filled with cotton. Even on the hottest days, it was usually a cool breezy ride on top of a load of cotton. Also, one could be sort of lazy around the gin while waiting to be unloaded. Trucks, tractors and trailer, and mules and wagons would be lined up waiting to be unloaded. Now, the overseer might not be too happy about the delays of unloading, but the rest of us kind of enjoyed it, cause it meant not being in the field pick'in.

About now, you're probably gett'in the idea that pick'in cotton wasn't a most favored vocation? You'd probably be right. Daddy and Jet, Fannie's husband owned the cotton patch on halves, called a sharecrop. I picked, but I won't pretend that I had to pick cotton for a living, although a lot of folks did. If Fannie was here today, she'd probably say, " did what I had to do to make a liv'in" but I'm glad that's done and gone ……………………………..with the wind."

©2003 - William C. Humphries, Jr.