My second favorite Jeanne Robertson story was ‘the Rafting Story’, the tale of a well-intentioned getaway when almost everything that could have gone wrong did, and Jeanne insisting on finding the humor in the suffering. I think I’ve watched this one at least a dozen times. She was such a funny lady.
What happens on the river, stays on the river.
A Horse Scrape.
Late yesterday afternoon Mr. Leon Ullman ordered a horse from the livery stable to take a ride down to Oxford. The animal was hitched to the same post the horse of J.W. Harris was standing tied, and Mr. Ullman made the mistake of riding off on that gentleman’s horse.
In the mean time Mr. Harris had half of the police in the city looking for the horse-thief, while Mr. Ullman was congratulating himself upon having secured such a good riding animal. His feelings can better be imagined than felt when an officer tapped him on the shoulder and informed him that he was under arrest for horse stealing. The matter was explained and a good laugh was had at his expence. He brags on the many different gaits of Mr. Harris’ horse.
THE EVENING NEWS, THURSDAY, MARCH 21, 1889
Cotton thieves have been operating in Beat 8 of this county. Mr. Butler Green has lost two bales, and Mr. John Maxwell has lost three bales. One of the bales was found secreted in the woods. The sheriff had made arrangements to watch the bale found in the woods and catch the thieves when they came after it at night; but the owner, not knowing of the intention of the sheriff, removed the bale before night, and thus the opportunity for the detection of the bold thieves was lost.
JACKSONVILLE REPUBLICAN SATURDAY JANUARY, 1890
EDITOR OF THE INQUIRER : – I wish to notify all whom it may concern, that on and after March 25, visitors will not be allowed to go through the workroom of the Piedmont Shoe Factory without paying an admission fee of fifty cents, and will not be allowed to exceed thirty minutes in going through same, which is ample time to see the workings of all the machinery. My reasons for making this a rule is not by any means a money-making scheme, but simply to keep the employees from being constantly annoyed. A person of reason understands, that when a man is working to do his best, and especially a beginner, and is aware of some one watching every movement, is liable to make false movements and damage valuable stock. This has occurred quite frequently. People cannot imagine the delay caused by visitors, and we hope they will understand this statement as it is meant.
GEO. H. KINGMAN, Prop’r A.G. WILLIAMS, Sup’t.
PIEDMONT INQUIRER, THURSDAY, MARCH,1891
Annoying the Shoemakers.
Tonight in my X feed.
Notes from Prices Switch, October, 1932
PIEDMONT JOURNAL, FRIDAY, OCTOBER, 1932
Princes Switch News
In some mysterious way the news got circulated that Mr. F.G. Becknell, formerly of Piedmont, but now of Anniston, had died. Nearly everyone you met was under the impression our old friend had passed off the stage of action, but his family and intimate friends here were very much gratified to find when calling up his family in Anniston, that Mr. Becknell was not dead. Not only that, but stated that he had not even been sick or even feeling bad, so “I’m glad to tell you that I’m not dead, and glad of it,” was his comment to his friends.
F.G. BECKNELL NOT DEAD AND IS GLAD OF IT
PIEDMONT, ALA. , Jan. 5.
THE JACKSONVILLE RECORD, FRIDAY, JANUARY, 1933
We’re coming up on the anniversary of the passing of my all-time favorite speaker, Mrs. Jeanne Robertson. I was rewatching one of my favorite clips from her recorded specials earlier today. Since it’s one of those tales that’s lived rent-free in my head for a decade or so, I thought I would l share it here. It’s called ‘the Interments of Cousin Rudolph Elroy’ a/k/a ‘Rudolph Elroy Branch’.
Here’s Jeanne’s story about a relative who traveled a long way, ages after his death, to finally (at least we hope) find his final resting place.
If I ever find myself in Mr. Branch’s part of Mississippi, I know I’ll have to stop in and eat some fried chicken and potato salad, and pay my respects.
