Roanoke Beacon Blog

Flipp
November 1, 1889
Pg. 3

“Flipp” – Makes a visit to the schools — has a talk with some of our business men — goes out to the railroad — gives the people some advice and goes to the Edenton Fair.

Mr. Editor – I closed last week by saying I would go to the Edenton Fair and write on my return, but after giving it a thought I guess I will go Wednesday and not return until Friday, that being too late for your paper I will write before going. Lots of the Plymouth people went over Monday and I should have been with them, but “that wife of mine” gave me to understand that she was to be my companion on the trip so I concluded to wait until Wednesday, I wrote John Bonner, of the Bay View, word to save me a room that looks like style don’t it?

After the boat left I called on Prof. Toms, principal of the High School. I found him sitting at his desk before about fifty pupils. I remained with him long enough to learn that he, though a young man, is thoroughly competent of carrying out his duties as a teacher. Heretofore our schools have failed to receive the proper attention, but, if I am not mistaken, Prof. Toms, with the right encouragement from our people, will build up a first-class school, which is one of the greatest needs of our town.

Leaving the high school I walked around to the Free School building where I met the teacher, Miss Margie Garett, who is conducting a primary class of about thirty as bright children as I ever saw, they, one and all, seem to be devoted to Miss Garrett, and she says that they are learning very rapidly. After a few words of encouragement to the teacher and scholars I withdrew and went home to dinner where I found “that wife of mine,” in all her female loveliness, sitting up to one of the best meals you ever stuck a tooth in. I filled up on roast beef and such like then I fired up the fur end of one of Gns. Haswells’s “coon skin” cigars, placed my feet on the window sill and rested. After resting for an hour I walked down to the stable to see how my horses was getting along, here I found to my horror that Ben Owens had bought one of those “Royal Bumpers,” a William Goat. I did not take much stock in him, though Mr. Owens said he was a dandy. I found my horse O.K., so I started down town. On passing the undertaking establishment of Nurney & Jackson, Joe Jackson called me in and we had a chat about making coffins and the like. He told me that his partner, Mr. B. Nurney, was sick at his home. I did not say the price of coffins as he told me they did not trust. I remained with “Joe” until he began to knock and kept up so much racket I had to leave. I loafed on down town, tried to get in conversation with several gentlemen but they were all off on the subject of the Railroad and I could not make a point.

Soon after night came on I walked into the Bay Oyster saloon, Weaver & Garrett, proprietors, the cook, Dan Nichols, brought in some of the finest oysters I ever ate. Instead of going home from the oyster saloon I stood on the corner and talked to a policeman until 10 o’clock, when I reached home, “that wife of mine,” gave me a round of being ont late, smelt of my breath like all wives do when their husbands stay out late, after rendering a verdict of not guilty she began to tell me about a new dress she was going to get of Reid & Duke, and a new bonnet at Mrs. Annie Walker’s, and a pair of those fine $3 shoes at G.H. Harrisons and various other things. I said nothing until she informed me that she had given B.F. Owens an order for a pony and phaeton like Mrs. Reed’s, then I gently raised from my chair, handed her my pocketbook which contained 14 cents, and told her if she could get a clear deed to buy the United States.

By the way, I forgot to tell you that I was among the multitude that walked out to see the Railroad on Sunday afternoon. As I sit in the office at the Latham House I noticed the large crowd going out but did not think much about it until I saw one man go out six times, then my curiosity being up, I started out with the procession, wondering all the time what was up, at last I09 came to the railroad. Yes, there right before me was a real railroad. Some of the visitors were counting the ties, some were counting the spikes, while others were saying how it should have been. Some it smited while others will have it changed. There before my eyes stood that wonderful “Iron Horse” which I have read so much about in the Beacon. I could hardly realize that a railroad was so close to Plymouth, but it is a fact, no hearsay , I saw it with my own eyes (by the help of a new pair of glasses I got from Yeager). I left the railroad about 4 o’clock giving my space to some of the more anxious of both color. It is my opinion that, unless the company have the railroad fenced in before the train starts, there will be an advance in the price of coffins and a man will not be able to get his life insured at any price. Just here I would say to those who never tackled a train, that if you should be walking down the track and see the locomotive coming, don’t insist on having it walk round you, or even giving you half the road, for it might cause some trouble in your family. “That wife of mine” says I need not fear the railroads for there is not enough roads in America to kill or cripple me as long as she holds a paid up accidental policy on my life.

Well, I go to Edenton tomorrow and take in the fair, will write next week. — “Flipp”

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“Flipp”
December 20, 1889
Pg. 3

Mr. Editor – As this is your last issue for the year 1889, and as you say makes the Beacon six months old, allow me to congratulate you upon your success. I little thought when the Beacon flashed its rays before our people, that it would be here six months, but as you have held on so long without skipping the country I think there is a chance for you to hold on longer. From your columns, I see that the business men of our town are not giving you the support they ought in the way of advertising, that is the reason we cannot keep a good paper in the town, the men fail to give it the proper support.

Say editor, I went down to the Latham House Sunday night to have a little round with Col. L. S. Read, “Jack’s” pa, who has been stopping there for several days. Well, I got in the office and shook hands with the old gentleman, I think he is the jolliest and best hearted man I ever met, but before I could say more than two words I was all broke up by some of the loafers. Why man there were so many boys in that office the boarders and strangers had to stand up and the clerk, Mr. Smith, he had to stand out on the piazza. We saw one young man walk in and get mad because he could not get a rocking chair. I think Mr. Smith must have a good disposition or he would put the makehaste on some one. Of course I expected to see you, the editor of a newspaper there, but I must say I was surprised to see you occupying the lounge, while men like Mr. Read and I, had to stand up. It is natural that the young men want to be together but, they should not take charge of the hotel.

Well, Xmas is almost at hand and the average child is looking forward to its coming with joyous anticipation, and even the old folks, whose silvery locks allow that they have seen many Christmas days, will gladly welcome the coming. I look upon the coming of Christmas as one of the most sacred holidays of our nation, as the day draws near it brings together friends and relatives that may have been parted for months, or if by chance some loved one has wandered too far to return and mingle their joys with the rest around the family fire-side, their thoughts will be turned homeward. At this time, the girl or boy that has been absent at college are returning home to spend the Xmas vacation with their parents. Parents are busy preparing good things for the young folks, fond lovers are busy selecting presents for their sweethearts. Then remember the little ones, as on Christmas-eve night they hang up the little stocking for Santa Claus to fill, and retire with heart almost bursting with the happy thoughts of the morrow morning.

I suppose the Beacon will take a week’s vacation during the holidays, if so, let me give you some advice, don’t drink too much dram because it might cause some delay in the next issue of the paper.

“That wife of mine” says if I get drunk Christmas she will go home to her ma, she forgets her ma, has died since I got drunk last, but any way I shall try to stay sober and enjoy the holidays.

What has become of my “Tormentor” as he signs himself, has he met the fool-killer or committed suicide? If no accident has happened to him, I guess he will come out in the paper this week giving me rats. You will please inform him for me, that if he uses any more slander in his letters that I shall enter suit, having employed Mr. C. L. Pettigrew, one of the swiftest little lawyers in the state. Hon. S. B. Spruill, perhaps one of the steadiest and most successful attorneys that ever faced a jury, also A. O. Gaylord, a fine lawyer and perhaps as hard a man to down as ever stood before a Bar (I don’t mean a bar room). Mr. J. L. Whedbee has been employed as a body guard and will also appear before the jury.

On beating around the town Wednesday my attention was called to the crowd that were making for Bryan’s Drug Store, so I out of curiosity went in to see what the excitement was and guess what it was. I was surprised to see so many curious things in the way of Christmas presents, I tell you “Jack” is getting to the front, and that clerk, I tell you the truth he is a dandy. I bought several presents and left. — “Flipp.”

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“Flipp.”
December 13, 1889
Pg. 3

Mr. Editor: My time at Washington was spent in a most pleasant manner, I met many old friends and would be glad to give you some of the most interesting points but, since some crank has taken it upon himself to reply to my letters through your columns, I will drop the Washington trip and devote my time to a few remarks on his article. I fail to see what he has replied to but, as he [...] a reply I will accept it as such.

He opens his letter by saying he does not know whether I am a gentleman or a grand rascal. I don’t suppose his knowing has anything to do with what I am. He says the Bible tells him to judge not, so it does but I wonder if this individual has read that book enough to know that it also speaks against slander, and has he sense enough to know that when he calls a man a rascal he is by law guilty of slander. We think he is either a brave man or a man with but little sense, to attack a man in such a manner without a cause. We do not think any gentleman would have opened a public letter by insinuating a man was a rascal.

In his first feeble effort he breakes the laws of his country and his God. He says he thinks I was among the crowd that went to Windsor, that is alright, this is a free country every man has a right to his own thought, no matter how unreasonable they may be. He says I was quite poetical in one of the back issues of the Beacon. Will he please inform me what date the issue was, if I ever wrote a line of poetry it is more than I know and doubtless he is the only reader of your paper that has ever seen that issue.

As to the advice he gives the young ladies about looking out for the man dressed in the garb he described, I would say he must think our girls have but little sense. Does he mean to insult them by giving them such silly advice? In the first place there is no such man in this town, again our girls are too pure and noble and have too many admirers to ever have to pop the question, and even if they were not admired, they have too much pride and intelligence to be going around popping the question to everything that wears pants.

I would like to know what his studying having a swelled head etc., has got to do with a reply to my letters.

He speaks of my going to Washington and says he don’t think I ever saw that town, well, that could have been possible, but I did not say I had been there, I only said I was going. I have been and am at home again, and did not get lost as he expected.

In writing up his trip on the Str. Bertie he gives a grand description of it. He said he was making the trip in company with some lady friends from Bertie but he goes on to say that one of the ladies broke the lamb and as the alarm of fire was given he rushed up stairs and found the room in a blaze. If he had been making the trip in company with the ladies, why was he on the first deck and they in the saloon? The only explanation I can give is this, he was on the same boat at the same time ladies were admitted to the saloon, while he was either beating his passage or had taken a second-class ticket and had to stay on the first deck. He said he got scared and going to the stern of the boat he made a cross on his forehead and knelt down to pray while kneeling there he went to sleep and was awakened by the Capt. asking for his fare. He says he got off at the first landing, but first tried to convince the captain that he was a man of learning. Now I know Capt. Pipkin and know it is useless for such a crack as that man is to try to make him think he had any learning and but little common sense.

Reply to “Flipp”
December 6, 1889
pg. 3

I have been watching “Flipp’s” articles ever since he began to write, and it is hard for me to tell whether he is a gentleman or a g–d f–l. But the Bible tells me, “Judge not, least ye be judged,” and so I reckon I had better stop before I get judged; because they might judge me a little too severly, and that would hurt my feelings. Mr. ‘Flipp’ gives a very vivid description of the trip to Windsor, but just let me tell you something. I expect that Mr. “Flipp” was one of the party, and that is why “that wife of his” gets the best of him so many times, is because he gets into so much trouble. In one of the back issues of the Beacon Mr. “Flipp” gets rather poetical I think, and that leads me to believe that he is not married at all. Look out girls for him. When you see a man wearing a beaver hat, a cuff for a dollar and a pair of pants three sizes too small for him and a single eye glass – that is him. But you must remember that this is not leap year, and so not make a mistake and pop the question to him.

I have been studying right much lately, and the consequence is that my head has grown, and forced me to buy a new hat. Everything that we do creates wear and tear, and sometimes I think that if we did not have to eat and wear this world would be a paradise.

Mr. “Flipp” says in the last Beacon that he is going to Washington, and will write up the trip. I doubt very much that he has ever been to Washington, and as to writing up the trip I know he is lost.

Last week I was taking a little trip on the Str. Bertie, in company with some ladies of Bertie county. One of them playfully gave the swinging lamp a turn, when lamp, fixtures and everything came down to the floor. The scene was appalling. I was down on the first deck, and heard such a stamped and cries of fire that I rushed up, to find the whole room in a blaze. I felt like I was about to make the Roanoke my resting place, and so I lept to the stern of the noble steamer and made a cross on my forehead and knelt in prayer. I prayed until I went asleep. I had not been asleep long when some one tapped me on the should and said: “Fare, please.” It was the captain, and I asked him if the boat had been turned up. He replied, “Oh no, I haven’t seen any fire worth mentioning.” I paid my fare and got off at the first landing; but not before I tried to convince the captain that I was a man of learning. — “Flipp’s” Tormentor.

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“Flipp”
November 29, 1889
Pg. 3

Takes a trip to Jamesville – Has a conversation with one of the excursionist – Gives his view of this trip – Tells how a man got a ride – Sees a man fall in the creek – Says a word to husbands, etc., etc.

Mr. Editor – It seems that our people dislike to stay at home on the Sabbath day. On last Sunday there were several who went to Williamston on the train to spend the day. Quite a number drove through the country to Jamesville, and among that number were “Pesky Snipes” and myself. On my arrival I went down town, there in the midst of a large crowd, stood “Pesky” he was telling some joke as usual, and I think his subject was about that J & W Railroad.

While part of our town were there enjoying the gentle breezes of a more western climate, there was yet another crows that were off for a day away from this historic city. That party, composed of only four of our most popular young men, had chartered the steamer Armitage and gone to Windsor.

In a conversation with one of the party I got the following report, he said: “We left Plymouth at 8 o’clock in the morning and arrived at Windsor at 11. The day was spent quite pleasant until 5 pm, when we again boarded the little steamer for home, everything went lovely until about six miles down stream, when the Captain who was not altogether right, ran the boat into the woods, someone cried out that we were sinking, we grabbed as many little preservers we could carry and all four made our escape over the bow of the boat into the swamp leaving the captain and his crew to fill, as we expected, a watery grave. We wandered through the swamp for one hour without hearing a sound, when all at ones one of the boys yelled “bear” we made a rush for other parts. From the first, one of our crowd had made night hideouts by calling for help, but not until after we had been scared by the supposed bear, which was nothing more than one of our number who fell in the swamp, did any answer or living sound greet our ears, then it was we heard a voice. On going to it we found a man standing in the road, we thanked him for his kindness and asked him how far it was to windsor, on being told six miles we laid aside 150lb of life-preservers each, pulled off our shoes and started for Windsor where we arrived at 1 o’clock. Next morning we came home on the Bertie, and as these No. 11 feet of mine embraced old Plymouth’s grit again, I promised my Ma and my God that I would never take such a trip again on Sunday.”

I can imagine how those young men looked as with an excited rush they deserted that steamer and went plunging through the swamp, then after being scared almost to death, I can see their faces grow bright as through the darkness there comes the voice of a rescuer. Then again methinks I see the bright smile, from their visage fade, adn I can hear the slow dull thump of those heavy hearts as they are told six miles. Then editor, imagine what a picture those young men made, as they took from their backs all the life preservers they had brought from the ill fated steamer sit down and taking off their shoes tied them together and swinging them over their shoulder they march on up the road in the darkness, then see them as they march through the deserted streets of the town where only a few hours before they had said good bye to their “beat” girl and left for home with light hearts. Then see them again as in the early dawn they board the steamer Bertie and the Captain refuses to admit them, with their muddy and torn garments to first class fare, and they have to be shoved away in the dark recesses of the freight room like so many tramps.

“What fools some mortals be?” I think the most anxious man for a ride I ever saw was that dark haired gentleman who walked to Jamesville on Sunday last to get a ride back on the train. I asked him why he did not go out in the morning and be said he got left, but if that train comes back I will ride or fight.” guess he got that ride. I left him at 4 o’clock sitting in the middle of the track waving a red bandana.

I understand that some of the gentler sex did not like the way I scared “that wife of mine” with a mouse. Really, I am sorry if any of them are mad, but think if all husbands would use the same mouse trick more comfortable. You had as well try to reverse the moon or feel safe near the rear of a mule as to try to jaw with a woman. She will always have the last word and if you are not sharp she will say every word and make you believe yourself unworthy to be a man. I have adopted the mouse as my wife subduer, and it works like a charm.

One of our most popular counter hoppers was out to the mill yesterday with several other young men and while there he saw some men rafting logs. Thinking himself as smart as the raftmen he mounted a log to help them. That log took a turn. That boy took a fall and I never saw a man so wet and scared in my life. He crawled up on a log to dry out after shaking the bark all off he found more comfortable quarters in a nigger hut near by where he was dried out and sent home.
Well as tomorrow is Thanksgiving, I guess our town will be quiet. I had a fine turkey up fatning for that day but I found this morning that some one else had him and the coop is empty so I will feast on fried herring while the individual who stoled my turkey will be making arrangement for his burial cause let me tell you that turkey has been fed on danymite for the last ten days and the man that tackels him will have a fine time.

Say I am going to Washington next week and I will write up the trip. — Flipp.

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“Flipp”
November 22, 1889
Pg. 3

Has an interview with pesky snipes – tackels a snake – has a round with his wife and is called upon by the police force and fire company – goes to the depot hears a conversation and sees a foot race etc., etc.

On Tuesday afternoon I walked into the dry goods store of Davenport and Piercy and asked for the proprietors. Mr. Day, that dandy clerk of theirs, with his hair roached back like an Indian, told me one of them was in. Just then Mr. Piercy, the funny man of the firm, and well known to the journalistic world as “Pesky Snipes” [...] up and taking a good look at my style asked if I was “Flipp.” I bowed and taking the proffered chair started to sit down, when to my horror I saw beneath me coiled in that chair a huge snake. I jumped near ten feet, yelled murder, fire, snakes and such things and swore I had been bitten by that reptile, and while standing there wonderin ghow to make my will (for I was sure I would die from the effects of that snake bite) John Piercy, or “Pesky” as I will call him was just dying with laughter, then I got mad and grabbingan axe helve, began to pound that snake; every lick I hit, the thing would jump at me. Mr. Day came from behind the counter with a two foot smile playing around his ruby lips and taking the snake by the head, said, “Man, what is the matter, are you wild? this is a rubber snake which Piercy bought to have some fun with.” After cooling down a little, I took a good look at it and sure enough I had been fooled, but “Pesky” being such a dear good fellow, I could not get mad, so I took what was left of that chair and sit down to ask him some questions. He gave me the history of Mr. Days’ coutship which was very interesting, then he quoted one of Mr. Days’ latest poems, entitled “Vine Hill Cottage.” He also quoted some from Josiah Allen, winding up on the “Peg Horn” boys. As I had laughed most all the buttons off of my vest, I started to leave but he said he had a new drawing to show me. It was a scene, the first was a saw dust road, leading from the town to a beautiful cottage. The second was a cottage at the end of said road, in the door of which stood a pretty girl and as the soft light from the hall lamp falls on the scene we see, standing on the steps hat in hand, a young man, we can, as we look on that scene, imagine we hear the soft good night, the door closes and the light in the parlor goes out, the gate slams and all is darkness. Scene 3d, a white cow coming out of the woods, the young man (which we recognize to be a popular dry goods clerk, also a member of the band.) pistol in one hand and hat in the other, coming home at a break-neck speed, and from the position of his lips I should say the man was yelling murder of ghosts.

Well after looking at that picture I went home where I found “that wife of mine” as mad a woman ever gets, she said I had been down town and made a big fool of myself by letting John Piercy scare the life out of me with one of those rubber snakes. She said that every woman in the town was making fun of my ignorance and that I had just gone and played the duce. I tried to reason with her, but woman like she would see but one way. She said that the most timid lady would have had better sense than to get frighten at such a thing. Just here I happened to think about the candy mouse I had in my pocket, so I just sliped it in her apron, she gave a scream lit with both feet in a chair then to the centre table, still screaming as loud as her voice would let her. I asked her what was the trouble but could get no sense in her. Hearing a terrible racket in the hall I went to the door, there came Police Ayers with a dozen men, asking who was murdered, and in the front door came Capt. E. R. Latham followed by his company, the most excited lot of firemen I ever saw, seeking where the fire was at, then came the Beacon reporter, paper and pencil in hand, asking if he should head that article “A tragical murder, or a disastrous fire.” I was so full of laugh that I could not say a word, I opened the sitting room door and let the excited crowd take in the scene. There upon the table stood “that wife of mine”and upon the rug before the fire lay the candy mouse which had caused the great panic. The men left in disgust, and I told the figure on the table to come down and try in future not to get scared at such little things. She came down, but there was a like of pleasantness in her voice for several days.

I was among the multitude that met the train on Wednesday night. Never in my life have I seen such a gang looking for a train. Why editor there were all colors, shapes and sizes of people. I got in the waiting room and held fast to the ticket office window until some lady place her No. 6 on my corn, then I let go that window and was pushed out on the walk, there I was caught between two ladied that would tip the beam at 187 lbs, and had the breath and shape mashed out of me. After escapeing from their loving embrace I was shoved on around the building to the freight protector where I saw what is called a “he” dance, the sot was made up of nothing but colored men. Walking past the protector to the wharf, there I saw fond lovers promenading too and fro. One couple I noticed more closely than the others, they seemed to be getting to the point, that a lover stammers to make. The lady wore a beautiful costume of green, th eman wore a black suit, blue eye-glasses and in his hand he held a cane. They drew near the edge of the wharf and stopped, the young man gazed out upon the star-lit waters as if he could catch from the silent deep, some tender expression, then looking up into the lustrous eyes of the fair maiden he, in a tremling voice, said: “If your answer be no my body shall rest beneath the deep and the waves that now roll on in playful glee, will then roll over the watery grave of a broken-hearted lover, but if yes, I will be the happiest man that ever lived.” As my attention was then called to a foot race between a young lady and the B. M., of the Beacon, I did not hear her answer, it must have been yes as the young man is yet on the town. While you know the man as no other person does, yet your readers do not, and for their benefit I will say, watch for the man that sports a cane and blue eye glasses. — Flipp.

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“Flipp”
November 15, 1889
Pg. 3

HAS A ROUND WITH SOME OF OUR BUSINESS MEN – MAKES A VISIT TO THE NEW DEPOT- GIVES A SKETCH OF HIS EARLY LIFE – HEARS A CONVERSATION AND TAKES A RIDE WITH HIS WIFE.

Mr. Editor: I called on that popular coach maker, G. R. Bateman, this week, he at first refused to talk to me, he said he had but little opinion of a newspaper man, of course I dropped the subject and struck him for a horse trade. That was a point, and soon he was telling me that he had all the work he could do and about how low he sold riding vehicles. I was glad to hear such good news and did not detain him longer but walked down to the A & R depot.

There I found that the depot was almost ready for business. This is one of the best arranged depots I ever saw. On entering it from the west end you first come to the freight room, which is large and well arranged, next you come to the telegraph and ticket office, then to the waiting room for whites and last to the waiting room for the colored people. The wharf is large and convenient with a freight protector in the center.

Leaving the depot I came up town and on passing Reid & Duke, I remembered that “that wife of mine” had told me to place a tomb at the grave of her deceased mother, so I went in and gave H. H. Brown an order for one of the finest he could get and to have the following epitaph inscribed upon it: “Deo Gratias! This is my last gift to the mother of “that wife of mine. Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum.” Then I came out and went home.

You said in your introductory that I would give sketches of my life and at the time I thought of so doing, but I fear that my life will not be interesting to your readers, though to me it has been quite a comfort.

I was born Oct. 29th, 1867, at 4 o’clock in the afternoon, my mother being present on the occasion, and, to the best of my knowledge of that wonderful event it was snowing. This is not my native county. I was born in a more western section of the State, I refrain from giving the exact place as there has been a warrant issued in that section for the arrest of a man that looks like me, and it might cause me some trouble. One thing however, I do say and that is this: I am a native of the Old North State and love her laws with the devotion of an old patriot. My eyes, like those of some of our Ex-Presidents and other smart men, of the present and past generations, first saw the sunshine of heaven through the narrow door of a log cabin. My parents were poor, as most parents were at the close of the war. At the age of three years my father died leaving my mother with three small children to care for. She being a christian woman and possessing as she does great physical ability, went to work with a sad, but noble heart, to raise us three to be a help to her in her old age, an honor to our deceased father and a blessing to our country.

From 1867 until 1875 my life was not so bright, nothing of interest hapened to me. During that year my mother moved east and settled on a farm in this county where we lived one year at the expiration of that time we moved to Plymough and I commenced a town boys life sketches of which will appear later.

Say editor, did you ever listen to a private chat between two colored individuals? Here is part of one I heard today while standing on the wharf talking to Jim Smith.

John – say Jim, dat air way how Bill Mahone got left is a nut to make us nigers quit de publican party.
Jim – no it aint what’s us North Carolina nigers got to do wid de Viginia lection?
John – kaze hits got a mity heap to do wid hit
Jim – dem Virginia darkies had mor sence than to vote fur a man dey nows is not true to dem
John – gues youse rite Jim. I does’nt now Mahone but gess he’s a week man in dat state

Then they change the conversation to our State.

John – Jim I specks I wood vote fur a democrat fore I wood fur a comon man
Jim – yes and me two if al unem is like “Dan” (meaning Gov. Fowle) he is a fine man and is guine to gin us black folks a show
John – den you sed it
Jim – I bleves we wood do better if we wood vote fur the man and let dis air party muleishness die out
John – den you sed it agin, de white folks likes us but we aint had de humility and sence to do it.
Jim – what bout dem ly–

I lost the rest of the sentence as they walked off leaving me to wonder why all colored people could not see, like John, that the whites are their friends. I will close as “that wife of mine” wants me to take her for a drive. — “Flipp”

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“Flipp”
[...] Norfolk and is Arrested — Comes Home and Has A Round With Some of Our Business Men and Sees a Clerk Disfigured.
November 8, 1889

Mr. Editor: Boarding the beautiful steamer Plymouth on Wednesday morning of last week at 10 o’clock, accompanied by “that wife of mine,” we were soon steaming down the placid stream for the Edenton Fair. After a run of forty minutes we passed the light house and were out upon the glittering bosom of the Albemarle sound, the steamer, held steady by the strong arm of the man at the wheel, Capt. Williams, who has no equal as a commanding officer, glided over the white capped waves with as much grace as the swan. After a steady run of some fifty minutes we entered Edenton Bay, as pretty a sheet of water as can be found in the State.

At last, after an hour and fifty minutes spent most pleasantly on board the steamer we were landed safe at Edenton. We were at once escorted to the Bay View hack and were driven through the streets of that old historic town at a break neck speed up to the Bay View where we were met by that courteous proprietor, John Bonner. After partaking of a first-class dinner we went out to the Fair ground where everybody seemed to be having a good time. Leaving “that wife of mine” in the care of some friends I walked around to the stables to see the stock, there I met Mr. James B. Waters, the man who has few equals as a horse trainer, he told me he was going to pull the strings over “Gypsy Blair” in the next race, I told him at once that I had $50 to loose on her, some man near by took up the bet, so while he bet on another horse I pinned my faith and cash to “Gypsy Blair” and the result was this, I got the $50. The owner of the trotter, Mr. L. L. Newberry, said I ought to “divy” but I failed to see the point.

Well the fair was a grand success and everybody left satisfied, except “that wife of mine,” she wanted me to buy her a race horse, I refused of course and told her to go home, buy Jim Midgett’s steer and a side saddle and have her own time. One of the most creditable features of this occasion was the fact that the Plymouth and Edenton boys met and parted without a fight or even a cross word and it is the first time for years. I hope the old annimosity that has existed so long has passed into the forggotten future never again to be remembered by either town.

Well, I parted with “that wife of mine” she returned home and I boarded the N. 8 Train for Norfolk, arriving at that city I went at once to the Percel House where I remained all night, next morning I called on Mr. T. A. Perry, of the Perry Manufactoring Company, I found him to be the same old easy Perry we all use to know and like so well while in this town. Mr. Perry told me that his business was good and he had every encouragement of a future success. In the office I found his son Nelson, better known to our people as “Little Perry,” he is not much larger than when he left here, he asked me about his old chum, Charlie Jackson, and others of our citizen, who he said, use to take him for a play thing. I spent the time quite pleasant until on my way to the hotel at night, a man tried to take all the side walk, and I, with all the dignity of a Plymouthian, tried to break a few of his ribs and as he roled in the gutter I intended to prepare a job for the dentist, by knocking a few of his teeth down his throat when a policeman asked me to take a walk with him, and I think I would have spent the night in the station house but Bill Harrison came up and told the policeman that I was a good fellow and only wanted to start, within myself, a house of correction for the young man in the gutter, then the man that wore the blue and brass said I could go. I and Mr. Harrison walked down to the hotel, I thanked him for getting me out of trouble and he left me.

I spent Sunday very quietly and was glad to see Monday come, when I again boarded the train for home where I arrived O.K. On looking around town the next day, to see what had happened since I left, I found that Sam Beasley had traded horses twice, the first time he got a gray horse and the next time he got a horse that he has to go to the corner of a street to turn round he is so long sided.

On my round I stepped into the oyster saloon of Robt. Wright here I was served to oysters in the finest style. There were lots of customers in there and I could not get on to his popularity until I saw his ad in the Beacon, then I “caught on.”

On going to my wardrobe this Wednesday morning to look for my old clothes I failed to find them, but in their place hung as I thought new ones, but “that wife of mine” informed me that she had [...] the clothes cleaner, at work on them. Well, I doned a suit of them and went down to see Mr. Dan Garrett, the popular manager of Geo. E. Stevenson’s Food Store. I found him just as busy as if he had to sell all the corn, hay, and meal that was to be sold in town, while his clerk, Herbert Hooker, was equally busy, selling groceries of which they carry a large stock. After taking a look at that beautiful sign you spoke of last week I walked on down the street. On passing the Kentucky Stables I heard something fall, on looking in there was a certain young dry goods clerk pulling himself up off the floor looking like a cyclone had struck him. I could not imagine what had happened until he limped out with his pants torn in the mos conspicious places, saying something about the d–n goat, then I knew he had been fooling with one of those “royal bumpers.” If you are anxious to know who this clerk is, just walk in Hornthal’s dry goods store and yell “goats” and then see which of his clerks makes for the back door.” — “Flipp”

“Flipp”
October 18, 1889
Pg. 3

He spends a night with an Alliance man – takes in the town and has a chat with some our business men.

Mr. Editor — I never did write any for a journal before and may not succeed now, but I am in town again and to occupy my mind I will write you a short letter.

I was out in that rain on Sunday night last, was coming up the second road in a cloud of dust when night sod and the rain came on. I stopped all night at a man’s house don’t remember his name, but this I do remember, that he was an Alliance man – gave me ‘liance for supper and for breakfast so I left next morning determined to be an alliance man myself. I came into town by Mr. B. F. Owens house, which I notice is one of the handsome residences to be seen on the road between Plymouth and Columbia. I noticed many other fine and comfortably situated residents on this street among which are J. M. Reid’s, A.O. Gaylord’s, E. A. Carter’s, J. F. Norman’s, E. R. Latham’s and others.

While driving in I was wondering where to stop my horse, and remembering that I saw the name of B.F. Owens in the Beacon, I drove up to that large stable of his, and just as you said, he keeps polite grooms and everything in order. Why Mr. Editor them darkies were so dog gone polite one of the fall down over the other to get to my horse first. Mr. Owens waled out of his office, whip in one hand, cigar in the other and was so courteous that I accepted his invitation to look at his fine stock, and bless my life that man talked so fast that before the boy got the harness off of my horse I had traded for a fine black and we were on our way down to D.O. Brinkley & Co.’s to get a, no not a drink, but one of the best cigars you ever puffed away at. Mr. Brinkley told me that his partner, Col. Fitchett, was up in the mountains and would be home in a few days, but if we wished anything in the way of accommodation just call on him. I tell you he is one of the finest men that ever mixed a cocktail, he gave us a knock down to his clerk, Mr. Louis Landing, who Mr. Owens says is the best boy that ever slung red liquor over a bar counter. Just here let me say that I never visited a bar that was kept in a more orderly manner, everything is quiet and every one has to behave when in this bar so “Dave” says.

Here I left Mr. Owens to go back to his stables and I walked across the street to see S. Adler. I was surprised to find such a large and well assorted stock of general merchandise, the old man was standing in the door and said as I came up, “py tam its wet come in,” we went in and were glad to see behind the counter the handsome face of Mr. E. S. Chesson, he seems to be quite proficient in the manipulation of the yard stick. Behind the other counter Master Tommie Rogerson was just appearing out of a barrel of flour. We walked back to the office where, upon a high school at his desk, found Mr. T. J. Lewis he seemed sorter glad to see us but brushing the hair back from his brow, asked us to excuse him as he was quite busy, we did so and walked out of the store.

[...] Murray the medical man and E. E. Murray the dentist, both busy, they are doing a big business. We did not get chance to talk to them as the medical man was called out and some man came in with about three yards of red flanel on his jaw and told the dentist that the tooth ache, they [..] his office and in a few seconds reappeared leaving the red flanel and aching tooth behind, the patients face was about ten inches shorter, and with a smile of satisfaction he said, “Dat air doctor gits there.”

After leaving the Murray Drug Store I loafed down to Reid & Duke’s and after pushing and shoving for several minutes I succeeded in getting through the immense crowd of customers and into the office, here I met Mr. E. F. Duke and Mr. J. E. Reid the junior members of the firm, they told that Mr. J. M. Reid, the senior member, was out at the time attending to some business around their shingle yard. Taking a look down behind the long counters I saw Mess. R.H Brown, Joe Norman, C A Walker, E R Marriner and two other salesmen moving with lightening speed from one customer to another. Turning to Mr. Duke I asked if those men were kept as busy as that all the time and he said “almost and said “almost and sometimes we have to leave the office to help them.” From the office I made a visit to the meat department where barrel after barrel of pork and fish was roled out. From here I went to the second story where I found the furniture and clothing clerks busy. From there I made my way to the street, satisfied in my own mind that Reid and Duke were getting their share of the public patronage.

Weary with my days adventure, I wended my way home, hoping to find a good supper waiting for me, but instead, that wife of mine had been down to Mrs. S. A Blount’s Millinery store and bought one of those new winter hats, which she had to take around and show to all the neighbors, and asked their opinion iof it and tell them how cheap it was, hence I found no supper, but as she seemed to be so happy over the hat I said nothing and went to bed. Thus ended the day. — “Flipp”

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