Mami T -- Part 2

In the files that were shared with me by Sharon Tibbits Grant there is a note which stated that Mami T was a Cherokee Indian. This information had been shared with Sharon, by whom I do not know.  However this information has never been verified or documented that Sharon nor I have been able to find, and Sharon is a researcher who is now retired.

If Mami T was Native American, I would be more inclined to think she was of Creek descent rather than Cherokee. Also if she was Native American this would explain why she was not subservient to males. In most clans or tribes females are equal, and in most; the lineage is through the female, and they are highly honored as the givers of life.

Her father’s name was James Taylor, and he was born in 1800 in Beaufort, South Carolina. The Native Americans I found there are listed as Cusabo Creeks, and I also find they are listed as an extinct clan or tribe. I have since received information from Richard Thorton, that they are not extinct; they were absorbed by other tribes.

 I have found Taylor’s on both Creek and Cherokee rolls, but I have never found his name on any of the rolls that I've looked at, and I have never discovered the names of his parent’s in any census records or any other source.

On the entire census records that I have looked at they were listed as white. But this was at a time in history when many Native Americans were deliberately trying to hide their identity by passing for white if their skin was light enough, if not then Black Irish or Black Dutch or maybe even Mulatto, anything except Native American!

I have found the migration route that he traveled from South Carolina to the place they migrated to and settled in what eventually became Holmes County, Florida which was located on the Choctawhatchee River.

I checked with a friend Richard Thorton, who is a Native American Architect, Historian and researcher, and he told me this route was a Creek migration route, and the area where they settled on the River was where many Creeks and other Native American’s came to and settled in those days, and those who were not captured and removed to the Indian Territories or killed; were eventually absorbed into the white population.

In order to avoid capture and survive they had to deny who they actually were and live in secrecy for the remainder of their lives. And so many never talked about their true identities, not even to their descendants it was too dangerous, even through several generations! And this has only changed in the recent past.

So much has been lost of their culture and their records; a tremendous injustice to say the very least; has been done to the Native American by the influx of those who came to take their lands from them in the name of greed!  Instead of trying to live in peace among them as guests in their homeland, they slaughtered them by the thousands, and drove them from their homes and took their lands!

Mami T -- Part 1

When I first began trying to write this short story several years ago about my great, great grandmother Charity A. Taylor McDuffie, who was known to our family as Mami T, I only had the stories about her that my dad had told us many times while I was growing up to write her story with.

I am quite sure that these stories were handed down from older family members who knew her quite well. Daddy was born in 1915 in the Whitewater Community, and she died in 1917. But even though he was so young he remembered her vividly, and admired her greatly!

My dad was a great story-teller and spinner of yarns; he could tell such a great story that it made the listener feel as though you were there too. And in my mind she became a powerful and living memory; so much so that I always felt as though I knew her personally, even though she died long before I was born.

I was so intrigued by the stories he told us about her because she was such a strong woman that she seemed larger than life to me. I was born and grew up in an era when southern women were subservient to men.  But she was not; she was always her own person; which was very unusual to say the least.

She became my hero, I know that heroine is the correct term for female, but I think if I am able to convey to the reader her true character, you will understand why I admired her as my hero!

Daddy described her as being a tiny woman, four feet eleven inches tall, and she had long jet black hair. He said, "She was not afraid of anything that walked, neither man nor beast, she was a free-thinking woman way ahead of her time."

She lived in an era when females were ‘Chattel’ or property of their father or husband, and women and children were subservient to males. But no man ruled her!

This might be a little difficult for some in today’s world to even imagine how it was back then, but for me it was not so difficult; things had not changed all that much from the period of time when she lived in the Panhandle to the time when I was born and raised.

A Corn Cob Pipe

She spent much time alone with her three small children in the wilderness of the sparsely settled Florida Panhandle, and she needed to be able to think for herself. Daddy said, 

"She was feisty, a scrapper if need be, and she smoked a corn-cob pipe and cussed worse than any sailor you ever heard."

For many years I had thought that she was my great grandmother, and that William H. (Tony) McDuffie was my great grandfather, because when Daddy spoke of them it was always in the same context. So I just assumed they were husband and wife instead of mother and son.

I mentioned this in conversation with another family member quite a number of years ago, and she corrected me, and gave me the right connection. This sparked my interest even more about Mami T.

Then I wondered why my Dad had never mentioned my great, great grandfather, and it was only after I began doing some research (I use this term loosely, I am a novice at researching), and began to come across records that I could even think about piecing together a more complete story about Mami T; the tiny woman who cast a giant shadow; which spanned several generations!

I consider myself to have been very blessed that another family member, Sharon Tibbits Grant, had been doing research for many years; and she has very graciously and generously shared her files with me; all of the files that she had been working on for many years collecting and compiling about our family and its various connections; which are many.

Her file was and is a treasure trove of information to me, especially the information I gleaned about Mami T. I began trying to write a short story about this wonderful woman with strength of steel back then, and as I learned more I had to re-write it several times, and now I have decided to just begin a new one.

Daddy always referred to her as Mami T, and I always assumed it was spelled Mammy T. But somewhere in someone’s writings I came across this present spelling which is now the name of her story.

Grandpa Collins Prize Green Turtle

One of Chuck’s favorite stories was a story he told about his Grandpa Collins back in the day when Grandpa fished with a fourteen foot sailboat.  He took his turtle net one day and sailed down around Corrigan’s Reef on the eastern shore to one of the turtle sets that he knew was a good set.

Chuck's Grandpa Nard Collins

Even though he was primarily a fisherman, till the Fiber Factory opened and he became a foreman at the plant.  He did go every now and then to a catch turtle for the family dining table.  Grandpa’s name was Monardy, but most people called him Nard.

When he got to the right place he let his net out.  When that was finished he went back down the cork line tripping it to make sure the net was hanging straight in the water.  Finished, he backed off a ways to wait and watch the cork line. 

I don’t know how long he waited, but when the turtle hit the net he knew whatever had hit it was big by the reaction in the cork line.  He waited some more till the action calmed down. 

He didn’t want to wait too long, if it was a turtle and it drowned no one would eat any of it and that would be a waste! At last the cork line calmed down and he went out and started taking up the net.

When he got to it he knew this was the biggest green turtle he’d ever seen in his life!  Green turtle is the most delectable of all the sea turtles because they are vegetarians.

Green Turtle

They graze on the grasses and algae that grow on the sea floor.  All of the other turtles eat crabs, snails, fish and whatever else they can catch.  Their meat tastes stronger, and fishy, totally different from a green turtle which taste much like veal.

He tied a line around a flipper and secured it to a boat seat.  He worked the net off the turtle and untangled it as he went along.  He let the turtle swing out from the boat and then finished taking up the net. 

He knew there was no way he could boat that big turtle by himself and it was too far back to the fish house to tow the turtle that far.  So, he sailed up to one of the many oyster bars in the area, and eased the bow up over the edge.

He sat there awhile studying the situation.  He knew for certain he was not going to let the turtle go; there were too many hungry mouths to feed, and this was too much food to let it go. 

As he thought about it he got an idea that if it worked would solve the problem, at least it was worth a try.  He off loaded his net, and then backed the boat off enough so that the bow was just at the edge of the oyster bar. 

He bailed water into the boat and sunk the stern to the level he needed it to be able to guide the turtle far enough into the boat and across the seats. 

As long as the big turtle was in the water he could manage it. He had tied lines around both front flippers to use as reins; he could stay behind the turtle so it would move forward and help in loading itself.

He lashed the turtle to the seats to secure it and keep it from thrashing around and possibly escaping, and then came the long arduous task of bailing all of the water out until the boat floated again.

That done he reloaded his net; he couldn't afford to take the chance of leaving it there and loosing it.  The next incoming tide would wash it away and if he ever found it again he would never get all the tangles out.

He sailed in with very little free-board.  The turtle took up a lot of the space and then with himself and the net, he had a full load! 

He knew if he made it back in to the fish house he would have a lot of help to offload.  He was fortunate that the weather was good.  Had a squall popped up he more than likely would not have made it in.  He and his prize green turtle would have been lost at sea!

No one knows exactly how much that turtle weighed.  The scales at the fish house in those days were not big enough to handle that much weight.  But everybody said it was the biggest Green Turtle ever caught in the waters around Cedar Key at that time!

They guesstimated it weighed more than six hundred pounds.  For many, many years all of the older folks that remembered seeing it, (and the entire island turned out to see it) told that story again and again.

Green Turtles get their name from the green fat inside their upper shell. They are classified as large sea turtles. I found an official record for the largest ever caught and it weighed in at 395 kg which converts to 871 pounds.

Boogalooing

Uncle Leo
in his senior years

When Chuck wasn't fishing he was boogalooing.  These days I think it’s called partying.  One night when he was out with his Uncle Leo and some of his friends, they decided they would introduce Chuck to one of the “ladies of the night” who worked in a house of ill-repute up near Chiefland. 

They assumed that Chuck was still a virgin and they would assist him in changing that. When they arrived and the Madam saw Chuck she screamed at Leo. “How dare you bring that boy in here Leo!”  “He ain’t even dry behind the ears yet!”

Chuck was close to, or was already sixteen years old.  To Chuck she said “Boy you wait out there on the porch till they’re all through here.”  And then to Leo she said “Leo don’chu ever make the mistake of bringing another young’un in here agin, ‘cause if you do you won’t ever get back in again.”

Duly chastised, Leo laughed and promised it wouldn't happen again.   Chuck wasn't a virgin, but that was the first whorehouse he’d ever been in and it was a tremendous embarrassment and humiliation to be thrown out! 

He was really ticked off at his Uncle Leo and his friends.  He had to sit out on the porch steps with the mosquito's sucking his blood, and fume till long after midnight while Leo and his friends were inside having a great time.

When they came out and headed back to Cedar Key Chuck told Leo, “Unk, I ain’t ever going off with you again.”  And as far as I know about he never did, before he joined the Navy.  If he had I’m sure I would have heard those stories too. They both told this story many times over the years and had many laughs about it.

An Angry Sea

Back in the early and mid forties there was very little communication about the weather such as we have this day and time.  If you happened to get caught in a storm while fishing at sea you just had to ride it out.  I’ve always thought that a boat was an extension of my husband’s body.  He was totally at home at the helm of a boat at sea.

But I believe even though it was a natural thing to him, it was also due to the fact that he had the very best teachers while he was growing up.  On one occasion he had been ice fishing again with his Uncle’s. 

They had gone out deep sea fishing for grouper.  Long story short when they headed back in to shore they got caught in a small storm and later discovered when they made it back to shore it was a small hurricane with 78 mph. winds.  

Chuck had the distinct privilege, and benefit of watching his Uncle Bum’s expertise at manning the helm during the rough ride.  Chuck said “I’ve never seen anything like it before or since.

A Boat On An Angry Sea 

His intense concentration, reading the wind and the sea, anticipating how to answer to the helm, and holding the boat into the sea at just the right angle, and at the same time working the throttle back and forth holding it at the just right speed to meet each gigantic wave, and then easing her down in the trough, only to climb the next one. 

And as scarred as I was, it was awesome to watch him at work.  And no one aboard even gave a thought about taking the helm from him.”

Leotis, Bum, Odie Boy Collins

“Odie Boy, seemed to be gifted in that area, and the other thing he seemed to be gifted in was finding the bodies of fishermen and others whose bodies had wound up overboard for one reason or another. 

He just had a knack for it.  And neither he nor anyone else could ever explain it.  They might drag the bottom for days in search of a lost body and not find them.  But when Bum came on the scene he would find them in one or two passes.  He was so consistent it was almost spooky!”

The Florida Panther

Once in a while he would go ice fishing with his Uncle’s in their launch.  They would stay out several days and fish till they filled the hold.  As they filled the hold, they layered each catch with ice till the hold was full and then they came back in. 

That was as much to keep the fish moist so they didn't dry out as it was to keep them cold, and to keep them from spoiling.

Isaac Henry bott Richburg poling
his mullet skiff in Cedar Key 1900

They towed their skiff boats behind the launch; they used them for running out their nets and catching the fish. 

They slept, cooked and ate on the launch.  Chetter did a lot of the cooking and he was heavy handed with the pepper.  But if anyone complained, they had to do the cooking for awhile.  So, there were hardly ever any complaints.

And usually after the evening meal they always told scary ghost stories.  This was mostly for the benefit of the younger men.  They would swap stories till the tide was just right to drop the nets and fish.  One such night, they were in the Wacasassa River near the mouth.  Chuck told me “It was so dark in there you couldn’t see the man rowing in the boat next to you, he said we maneuvered by sound.”

Leotis (Bum, Odie Boy) Collins

Just before they left the launch Leotis (called Bum or Odie Boy) had been telling a tale about a big “Florida Panther.”  He said, “The panther comes to the river to drink and lays in wait to jump you, and he’s has been known to kill and eat grown men.”  By the time they got in their skiffs to go fishing, the younger guys were scared half to death.

They were rowing along as quietly as possible, listening for fish breaking. Bum suddenly stood up and threw his let-er-go toward the bank, and at the same time without his knowing, he had rowed up under a fork of a tree limb that was hanging out over the river and it caught him.

One limb slid under each arm and lifted him clear of the boat; at the same time the let-er-go hit a big bull that had come down to the river to drink.  The bull let out a bellow and Bum let out a scream that chilled the blood.

Chuck rescued Bum; his lower body was dangling in the river.  Bum still had the screaming memies, but everybody else was laughing so hard their sides hurt and they were teasing him about almost getting caught by that “Big old Florida Panther!” 

They had to go back down the river a ways to catch his skiff; it had drifted down river with the current while Bum was hanging in the tree waiting for Chuck to rescue him.

The power’s that be, refuse to admit that there are Florida Panther in our woods and hammocks up there, this area being known today as “Florida’s Nature Coast.”  But there most definitely are! 

And have been for many years, long before they imported the Puma or mountain lion which are basically the same cat, and there still are some originals in the Gulf Hammock! 

Too many people have been seeing them for too many years!  People who grew up in the area, and know those woods and hammocks like the back of their hands. 

A Florida Panther Track

One of the Wildlife Officer’s who worked in the area quite some time back and before any Panther was ever imported, took pictures, and made plaster casts of the tracks.  But those in power refused to admit that they were panther tracks.

There are also a few Florida Black Bear still in those woods too.  My husband decided before he died, that it was political. 

If the Power’s that be, admitted there were Florida Panther there, they would then have to force the timber companies to cease the destruction of their habitat.

To be continued

The Barefoot Artist and The Cross

Before I posted the ‘Stop Fishing’ story I was wishing I had a copy of this. I searched and could not find it. And then a few days after I posted I received this email. I thought wow; even though I have already posted it I can edit and add this in.

I wrote and asked, and permission was given, and then I decided this is such a great short story in its own right I would write it, and again permission was given.

Oftentimes our greatest inspiration will come from great inner turmoil of mixed emotions which are a result of whatever the trauma in our life is at the time! Such is the case with this beautiful painting.

During the process of the Net Ban there was a lot of anger, anguish, hurt and turmoil in homes of commercial fishermen all over the State of Florida. A way of life was being destroyed in the voting booth.

 When it was over there were thousands of people out of work. Some felt a few hunger pains for awhile; there were empty spaces under a lot of Christmas trees where presents should have been for the children, among other needs.

One more trial for this tiny fishing village whose livelihood has always been from the harvest of the sea to overcome, but Cedar Keyans being such a resilient people  have survived.

In the midst of all that was happening she remembered a friend had said to her, whenever there is a problem you can’t solve, just bring it and lay it at the foot of the cross.

With pen in hand she began to draw and this first picture above is the result, the first draft was published in the Cedar Key Beacon and the Gainesville Sun.

On the editorial page this inscription was added: “Father forgive them, they know not what they have done.”

Painting by Carmen Day Williams, Cedar Key, Florida

And then someone, I don’t know who; made a large a cross with a net draped around it and it was posted at the mainland side of # 4 Bridge and it is still there.

This next picture, is a beautiful painting of what the first drawing evolved to over a period of time!

This painting has never been put up for sale!

For the benefit of those who would like to read about the Net Ban go to Florida Marine Net Fishing, Amendment 3 (1994) click on this highlighted title.