Hogs, Mules, and Yellow Dogs: Growing Up on a Mississippi Subsistence Farm

Uncle Bo

159 Uncle Bo “Jim. Jim!” he exclaimed plaintively as he pulled up his shorts hurriedly to hide his hot rod. “Jim,” he begged, “you won’t tell nobody bout this, will you?” I was on my way back from feeding hogs on Sand Ridge and had stumbled upon him and a high school dropout in Lovers Cluster, a patch of bushes behind the field on the Old Mobile Road. It was a favorite spot; I had discovered others “at it” while passing by this lovely nook. “No, sir!” I assured him. I understood his amorous proclivities, even though I was only eight. Uncle Bo was always one step ahead of respect, two steps ahead of a real job. Born in 1906, Bo grew to hate his given name. His mother wanted him christened Robert Edward after Robert E. Lee, the great Confederate general. But his father had a friend, Eugene, and persuaded his wife to make the switch to Robert Eugene, which became Bobby Gene. Only his mamma could tolerate little “Gene” for more than five minutes, and knowing of his lack of love for his name, she began calling him “Boy,” which was soon shortened to “Bo.” At the turn of the century, birth certificates hardly existed in rural Greene County, and he was never officially recorded. His name, nevertheless, appeared in the family Bible; otherwise it was just “Bo.” Those who wanted to saddle him with first-name handles were brushed off by his inborn legerdemain. If anyone ever used “Bobby Gene,” he quickly cut them off with “Don’t call me that!” Later in life he incorporated Bo into all his legal matters. Once a special delivery letter came to Neely post office addressed to B. G. Hillman, only to be returned as “unknown.” Life on the Farm 160 It was, indeed, the best of times in Neely, and Bobby Gene was to the manor born. In Southern households, a father’s doting focused on the youngest female. However, in this case, Eugenia was pushed aside by her younger brother. Perhaps Bobby Gene had usurped his sister’s privileged place in the family hierarchy while at the same time rejecting her name. Or maybe he simply hated being called by Eugenia’s name. In short order, such deference to Bo melded into tolerance; tolerance gave way to teenage permission; and permission ultimately became adult support. Charles Hillman’s local empire flourished in the boom days around World War I. Prohibition, or what we called “the Noble Experiment,” made no impact on Bo’s finances, but there were other ways to spend his money. To pull off his carousing, Bo spent it widely at Greene County’s few fancy haberdasheries, such as Rounsaville’s. After he showed up in church wearing a bow tie and straw katie, people began calling him the Beau Brummell of Neely. In the flapper twenties he courted the daughters of farmers as far away as Hattiesburg and mythical Vinegar Bend across the Chickasawhay River in Alabama. But the container of my Grandpa’s fortune really sprang a leak in the 1920s with Bo’s discovery of check writing, and with his ability to flawlessly sign his father’s name. When he wasn’t writing checks on Grandpa, Bo could convince “Pa” to purchase anything to support his lifestyle. That included buying a horseless carriage, one of the first in the village. So, when he came home from Churchwell Auto with the latest Model T Ford, it was: “Watch out! Here he comes!” Free-ranging chickens beware. Even hogs and other animals were in danger on the roads. Being his father’s driver and handyman helped him avoid plowing mules and the cotton field for a while. Although he was able to hold farm work at bay, he did manage Grandpa’s several properties. Harvesting timber provided occasional spending money. Grandpa’s support fed his son’s indulgence, and that indulgence inhabited a restless body and mind. As his “young buck” persona grew in the community, many old-timers wondered whether he would be a Hillman or a Green, the high-strung, hard-drinking Irish who came up the rivers to Greene County. But in reality, few were critical of Uncle Charlie’s offspring. Just about everyone liked him Uncle Bo 161 for his ability to entertain. His favorite antic was to mimic a famous silent movie actor, for which he was...