BROWN A SMITH, a black man, was a small child during the civil war. He ended up as an adult in a very small town in Northern NE. He was quite the character who supported himself by teaching violin, growing and selling vegetables. To this day the stories of his life in Butte NE are still told and enjoyed by the small town of 200 residents.
The name that he responded to all his life is now politically incorrect to write here. He was called ****** Brown.
His grave was unmarked until 1991 when the Butte Centennial Committee voted to pay for the marker because of Brown A Smith's contribution to the history of the town of Butte Nebraska.
A WONDERFUL HISTORICAL REMEMBRANCE OF BROWN A SMITH BELOW BY A TOWN RESIDENT
Brown Smith came to our town of Butte, Ne. looking for work. He was hired to dig ditches for water pipes to a home under construction. He took many odd jobs to feed himself; stoking the bank's coal furnace, emptying the spittoons and cleaning the place. Eventually he was put on welfare. The businessmen were good to him and one man, Jake Sieler, gave him a place to live in. It was just off mainstreet and so it was convenient for him to do these chores. One of the "odd jobs" was killing rats for which he was paid a small amount.for each rat. In order to prove his successes he skinned and nailed the hides to the back side of his house. He proudly displayed these "kills" to his young visiters - possibly enjoying the expressions of their faces. The grocery stores gave him their un-sold produce. He also had a large fenced-in garden plot where he raised vegetables and lots of sweet corn. He was a knowledgeable gardener and his garden was ' weed free. He said never plant before the 15th of June. Anywhere from the 1st to the 15th actually.
He revealed to some that his master was in the Civil war and he went along to care for his master and his clothes etc. He said his master was good to him. His mother and sister were sold on the slave block & he had heard they were taken to Iowa so he went there looking for them & but never found them.
The fingers on one hand were gone - frozen off, he said, due to getting tipsy and careless. To others, he said, he lost them escaping from the south on horseback.
Many ladies in town took food to him; especially sharing their Sunday dinners. One Sunday my mother sent a plate of food to him and he scolded saying, "This is the 3rd dinner brought to me today; how am I going to eat all this?" ".Those ladies should check with me before bringing all this food." The druggist wife, Abbie Mahannah was consistent in providing his Sunday dinners.
My friend and I took turns sharing our popsicles with him. We each received 5 cents on Wed and Sat for our spending money so we would break the popsicles in two and he really seemed to enjoy them. On warm summer evenings he would sit outside in front of his little house on an old wooden chair and play his violin for himself and his audiences. He had another stringed instrument with broken strings and eventually the violin strings also broke.
We considered him a friend but he prefaced our every visit with this admonition. "If you girls call me nigger, I'll call you poor white trash." We always addressed him as Mr. Brown and were hurt that he never seemed to believe we were his friends. There were some boys in town that teased him and some who really didn't know enough not to call him Nigger.
All the older citizens of Butte who could recall more are deceased. In 1991 a centennial marker to honor him was placed on his grave to replace the hand-carved rock made for his resting place by one of the popsicle sharers.
The year of his birth is an estimate. He didn't know how old he was.
The name that he responded to all his life is now politically incorrect to write here. He was called ****** Brown.
His grave was unmarked until 1991 when the Butte Centennial Committee voted to pay for the marker because of Brown A Smith's contribution to the history of the town of Butte Nebraska.
A WONDERFUL HISTORICAL REMEMBRANCE OF BROWN A SMITH BELOW BY A TOWN RESIDENT
Brown Smith came to our town of Butte, Ne. looking for work. He was hired to dig ditches for water pipes to a home under construction. He took many odd jobs to feed himself; stoking the bank's coal furnace, emptying the spittoons and cleaning the place. Eventually he was put on welfare. The businessmen were good to him and one man, Jake Sieler, gave him a place to live in. It was just off mainstreet and so it was convenient for him to do these chores. One of the "odd jobs" was killing rats for which he was paid a small amount.for each rat. In order to prove his successes he skinned and nailed the hides to the back side of his house. He proudly displayed these "kills" to his young visiters - possibly enjoying the expressions of their faces. The grocery stores gave him their un-sold produce. He also had a large fenced-in garden plot where he raised vegetables and lots of sweet corn. He was a knowledgeable gardener and his garden was ' weed free. He said never plant before the 15th of June. Anywhere from the 1st to the 15th actually.
He revealed to some that his master was in the Civil war and he went along to care for his master and his clothes etc. He said his master was good to him. His mother and sister were sold on the slave block & he had heard they were taken to Iowa so he went there looking for them & but never found them.
The fingers on one hand were gone - frozen off, he said, due to getting tipsy and careless. To others, he said, he lost them escaping from the south on horseback.
Many ladies in town took food to him; especially sharing their Sunday dinners. One Sunday my mother sent a plate of food to him and he scolded saying, "This is the 3rd dinner brought to me today; how am I going to eat all this?" ".Those ladies should check with me before bringing all this food." The druggist wife, Abbie Mahannah was consistent in providing his Sunday dinners.
My friend and I took turns sharing our popsicles with him. We each received 5 cents on Wed and Sat for our spending money so we would break the popsicles in two and he really seemed to enjoy them. On warm summer evenings he would sit outside in front of his little house on an old wooden chair and play his violin for himself and his audiences. He had another stringed instrument with broken strings and eventually the violin strings also broke.
We considered him a friend but he prefaced our every visit with this admonition. "If you girls call me nigger, I'll call you poor white trash." We always addressed him as Mr. Brown and were hurt that he never seemed to believe we were his friends. There were some boys in town that teased him and some who really didn't know enough not to call him Nigger.
All the older citizens of Butte who could recall more are deceased. In 1991 a centennial marker to honor him was placed on his grave to replace the hand-carved rock made for his resting place by one of the popsicle sharers.
The year of his birth is an estimate. He didn't know how old he was.
BROWN A SMITH, a black man, was a small child during the civil war. He ended up as an adult in a very small town in Northern NE. He was quite the character who supported himself by teaching violin, growing and selling vegetables. To this day the stories of his life in Butte NE are still told and enjoyed by the small town of 200 residents.
The name that he responded to all his life is now politically incorrect to write here. He was called ****** Brown.
His grave was unmarked until 1991 when the Butte Centennial Committee voted to pay for the marker because of Brown A Smith's contribution to the history of the town of Butte Nebraska.
A WONDERFUL HISTORICAL REMEMBRANCE OF BROWN A SMITH BELOW BY A TOWN RESIDENT
Brown Smith came to our town of Butte, Ne. looking for work. He was hired to dig ditches for water pipes to a home under construction. He took many odd jobs to feed himself; stoking the bank's coal furnace, emptying the spittoons and cleaning the place. Eventually he was put on welfare. The businessmen were good to him and one man, Jake Sieler, gave him a place to live in. It was just off mainstreet and so it was convenient for him to do these chores. One of the "odd jobs" was killing rats for which he was paid a small amount.for each rat. In order to prove his successes he skinned and nailed the hides to the back side of his house. He proudly displayed these "kills" to his young visiters - possibly enjoying the expressions of their faces. The grocery stores gave him their un-sold produce. He also had a large fenced-in garden plot where he raised vegetables and lots of sweet corn. He was a knowledgeable gardener and his garden was ' weed free. He said never plant before the 15th of June. Anywhere from the 1st to the 15th actually.
He revealed to some that his master was in the Civil war and he went along to care for his master and his clothes etc. He said his master was good to him. His mother and sister were sold on the slave block & he had heard they were taken to Iowa so he went there looking for them & but never found them.
The fingers on one hand were gone - frozen off, he said, due to getting tipsy and careless. To others, he said, he lost them escaping from the south on horseback.
Many ladies in town took food to him; especially sharing their Sunday dinners. One Sunday my mother sent a plate of food to him and he scolded saying, "This is the 3rd dinner brought to me today; how am I going to eat all this?" ".Those ladies should check with me before bringing all this food." The druggist wife, Abbie Mahannah was consistent in providing his Sunday dinners.
My friend and I took turns sharing our popsicles with him. We each received 5 cents on Wed and Sat for our spending money so we would break the popsicles in two and he really seemed to enjoy them. On warm summer evenings he would sit outside in front of his little house on an old wooden chair and play his violin for himself and his audiences. He had another stringed instrument with broken strings and eventually the violin strings also broke.
We considered him a friend but he prefaced our every visit with this admonition. "If you girls call me nigger, I'll call you poor white trash." We always addressed him as Mr. Brown and were hurt that he never seemed to believe we were his friends. There were some boys in town that teased him and some who really didn't know enough not to call him Nigger.
All the older citizens of Butte who could recall more are deceased. In 1991 a centennial marker to honor him was placed on his grave to replace the hand-carved rock made for his resting place by one of the popsicle sharers.
The year of his birth is an estimate. He didn't know how old he was.
The name that he responded to all his life is now politically incorrect to write here. He was called ****** Brown.
His grave was unmarked until 1991 when the Butte Centennial Committee voted to pay for the marker because of Brown A Smith's contribution to the history of the town of Butte Nebraska.
A WONDERFUL HISTORICAL REMEMBRANCE OF BROWN A SMITH BELOW BY A TOWN RESIDENT
Brown Smith came to our town of Butte, Ne. looking for work. He was hired to dig ditches for water pipes to a home under construction. He took many odd jobs to feed himself; stoking the bank's coal furnace, emptying the spittoons and cleaning the place. Eventually he was put on welfare. The businessmen were good to him and one man, Jake Sieler, gave him a place to live in. It was just off mainstreet and so it was convenient for him to do these chores. One of the "odd jobs" was killing rats for which he was paid a small amount.for each rat. In order to prove his successes he skinned and nailed the hides to the back side of his house. He proudly displayed these "kills" to his young visiters - possibly enjoying the expressions of their faces. The grocery stores gave him their un-sold produce. He also had a large fenced-in garden plot where he raised vegetables and lots of sweet corn. He was a knowledgeable gardener and his garden was ' weed free. He said never plant before the 15th of June. Anywhere from the 1st to the 15th actually.
He revealed to some that his master was in the Civil war and he went along to care for his master and his clothes etc. He said his master was good to him. His mother and sister were sold on the slave block & he had heard they were taken to Iowa so he went there looking for them & but never found them.
The fingers on one hand were gone - frozen off, he said, due to getting tipsy and careless. To others, he said, he lost them escaping from the south on horseback.
Many ladies in town took food to him; especially sharing their Sunday dinners. One Sunday my mother sent a plate of food to him and he scolded saying, "This is the 3rd dinner brought to me today; how am I going to eat all this?" ".Those ladies should check with me before bringing all this food." The druggist wife, Abbie Mahannah was consistent in providing his Sunday dinners.
My friend and I took turns sharing our popsicles with him. We each received 5 cents on Wed and Sat for our spending money so we would break the popsicles in two and he really seemed to enjoy them. On warm summer evenings he would sit outside in front of his little house on an old wooden chair and play his violin for himself and his audiences. He had another stringed instrument with broken strings and eventually the violin strings also broke.
We considered him a friend but he prefaced our every visit with this admonition. "If you girls call me nigger, I'll call you poor white trash." We always addressed him as Mr. Brown and were hurt that he never seemed to believe we were his friends. There were some boys in town that teased him and some who really didn't know enough not to call him Nigger.
All the older citizens of Butte who could recall more are deceased. In 1991 a centennial marker to honor him was placed on his grave to replace the hand-carved rock made for his resting place by one of the popsicle sharers.
The year of his birth is an estimate. He didn't know how old he was.
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