Published by The History Press
Charleston, SC
www.historypress.com
Copyright 2019 by Tony Kail
All rights reserved
Front cover, top left: courtesy of authors collection; top center: courtesy of Farm Security AdministrationOffice of War Information Photograph Collection. Library of Congress;
top right: courtesy of authors collection; bottom: courtesy of Shelby County Library.
First published 2019
e-book edition 2019
ISBN 978.1.439668.276
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019945092
print edition ISBN 978.1.467139.892
Notice: The information in this book is true and complete to the best of our knowledge. It is offered without guarantee on the part of the author or The History Press. The author and The History Press disclaim all liability in connection with the use of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever without prior written permission from the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
There are a number of folklorists, historians, practitioners, families and scholars to whom I am extremely grateful, including the following: Jack Montgomery; Yvonne Chireau; Jeffrey Anderson; Carolyn Morrow Long; Katrina Hazzard-Donald; Robert Farris Thompson; David Metcalfe; Judith McWillie; Bill Ferris; Dorothy Armour; P.D. Newman; Miss Jessie, Terry Saunders and A. Schwab, Elliot Schwab; Debbie Halstead and Ebbo, Lucky Heart Cosmetics; Keystone Laboratories; Shelby County Public Library, Memphis; Cleveland Public Library; Doc Macon and the Macon family; Mother Jones, Lisa and Memphis Conjure; Bernice Strickland and the Strickland family; Madam Glover and the Glover family; Dr. Charles Champion and family; Bill Steber; Michael Pascoe; Millers Rexall; and my best friend and wife, Amy
INTRODUCTION
10:00p.m., October 22, 1934 Jackson, Mississippi
The light from Police Chief Simmonss flashlight cut through the darkness like a knife. The yellow-tinted beam of light was filled with dancing dust as it pierced the darkened dirt path into the woods. Lush green plants and spiraling kudzu covered the path, creating a tunnel effect into the property. Two officers followed Simmons as they crushed fallen branches and snapping twigs on the ground under their black leather boots. The Mississippi heat beat down on the men, sending trails of salty sweat down their foreheads. The trail seemed to go on forever, until the chief spotted tiny starlike flames through the darkness.
The humidity seemed to push the officers uniforms against their flesh as their hearts began to race. The two men seemed lost as they followed the chief into the darkness. It was only a few hours ago that he had told them of this special operation. The chief remained silent regarding the reason for this raid. He knew that if he mentioned the word voodoo it might affect the operation. Voodoo was a mystical phenomenon that was practiced in the back fields of farms among the impoverished black families, Simmons assumed. The curious chief had recently been alerted by a local informant that there was some sort of voodoo operation going on in an abandoned farm near the river.
The sparkling lights that danced in the darkness appeared to be getting clearer as the hushed sound of voices could be heard in the thicket ahead. The men could make out the shape of an old house made of rotting wood. Simmons turned to his men and raised his finger to his lips as an eerie voice cried out from within the structure: And the Holy Ghost is gonna take that spirit. Ohhhhh Lord, that spirit has no place in this man. Take it out! The booming voice drowned out the sound of insects chirping in the night sky. Simmonss hand slid down and rested on the leather snap that held his revolver in the holster. Pop!, the leather snap sounded as he removed the only thing holding back his weapon from being drawn. The sound of echoing pops from his officers soon followed.
As the men drew nearer, a scent of burning herbs that reminded the chief of his wifes cooking spices caused his nostrils to flare. The flames of candles could be seen illuminating through a chamois covering the window of the old wood house. The light from the candles grew as it cast a shadow on the walls, lighting shifting shapes of human figures. Chief Simmons could hear his officers breathing grow ever more intense.
Simmons turned and whispered to the men, There is no telling what we are about to see. Just follow my lead and make sure we round everyone up thats in this building. The men nodded as they wondered to themselves if this was going to be yet another bootlegging or prostitution operation.
As the men slowly walked out of the woods into the open yard before them, the light of the summer moon shined brightly, destroying any possibility of remaining hidden. The chief turned and raised his finger. Lets go. The three officers rushed toward the wooden door as the chief reached down and twisted the doorknob. Boom! The door slammed against the wall of the house as Simmonss boot crashed into the door. Everybody freeze! he yelled. Police!
Clouds of flowing white smoke filled the room as silhouettes of men and women fell to the floor. Simmonss eyes began to run along the walls of the room decorated with crosses and pictures of Jesus and saints. A table filled with various burning colored candles lit the room. Bowls of dried plants and glass bottles filled with multicolored oils adorned a wooden table in the corner.
As one of the younger officers began to walk toward a door on the east side of the room, he noticed the threshold of the room changing colors. Swinging his sidearm into the door, the officers eyes widened as a revolving colored lamp sat in the corner. An elderly man was in the corner, staring at the floor under a dark colored statue that held a burning bowl of incense. A young girl lay on a crude operating table against the far wall of the room. As frightened as she appeared to the officers, she would later go on to attest to the healing powers of the owner of this operation.
Courtesy of New York Public Library.
Doctor Claude Jones was arrested by Mississippi authorities for running a hoodoo hospital in the cradle of the Delta on Sunday October 21, 1934, in Jackson, Mississippi. As a spiritual doctor and rootworker specializing in African American healing practices, Jones created a clandestine spiritual sanctuary for local black men and women who struggled with sickness as well as spiritual curses. The local press described the activities of the hospital and Dr. Jones in tales of crystal balls, witchcraft and mystic potions. As usual, what actually went on in that facility was very different from what was reported in the outside press.
This would be one of the many discoveries of evidence of hoodoo and conjure in the Mid-South. There are several more, and these are their stories.
