John Smith 1905; History, Cameron, Louisiana Submitter: W. T. Block, Historian Date Submitted: July 10, 2004 ********************************************** Copyright. All rights reserved. http://usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://usgwarchives.net/la/lafiles.htm ********************************************** UNCLE JOHN CORNERED BEAUMONT'S YELLOW YAM TRADE By W. T. Block According to the Enterprise of Oct. 18, 1905, my great uncle, Capt. John Smith of Johnson's Bayou, LA., missed only one weekly visit to Beaumont, pulling his barge load of 50 sacks of yellow yams, and as a result he threw the entire Beaumont market for sweet potatoes into disarray. For some unknown reason, Beaumonters had suddenly developed a taste for yellow sweet potatoes, instead of the much more common rose-colored variety, and because the yellow yams were available only from Johnson's Bayou, Uncle John had cornered Beaumont's sweet potato market. And because Uncle John arrived there every Thursday afternoon as regularly as high tide, the price of yellow yams in Beaumont had remained constant at "six bits" (75 cents) a bushel. The bayou farmers raised about 3,000 bushels of the yellow yams annually, and Uncle John bought up half or more of their crop. The farmers knew that to market their crop all at once would drive the price down to "two bits" (25c) a bushel, so they developed a system of "banking" their potatoes, so they could be marketed gradually all through the year. Potatoes were stacked about 4 feet high, covered with layers of salt grass and sea cane, and topped with 8 inches of marsh mud as a roof. Although Beaumonters called Uncle John's tug the "potato boat," he carried other produce to Beaumont as well - that usually being several sacks of satsuma oranges and up to 100 gallons of sugar cane syrup when in season. Sometimes he added a few bales of cotton if he had room. His boat was 30 feet long, with an inboard, naphtha-burning engine, and he pulled a 30-foot barge, loaded with his produce. Usually Uncle John's business transactions in Beaumont were similar to a barter economy, since he always bought some grocery items, dry goods, and hardware, needed to restock his store shelves at Johnson's Bayou. After the storm of 1886 had destroyed the bayou community, only 100 families had moved back there as of 1900, and Smith owned one of the only two stores that had reopened there. One Thursday morning, Uncle John had his barge loaded and was ready to leave when Aunt Lottie stopped him. "John," she exclaimed. "I ain't gonna let you go to Beaumont today! It's raining, and besides, you got the hacks and sniffles, and probably fever too. You'd catch your death of pneumonia out in this weather!" So Uncle John did not arrive in Beaumont that Thursday evening; as a result, his wholesale produce dealer ordered a box car of red sweet potatoes from Houston. The dealer also jacked the price up to 90 cents a bushel, a price that Beaumonters were loathe to pay, even for yellow yams. Capt. Smith resumed his boat trips to Beaumont the following week, but things were never the same thereafter. He lost his stranglehold on the yellow yam trade, for Beaumonters soon learned that the rose-colored yams tasted no different. So not long after that, Uncle John closed his Johnson Bayou store and opened another store in Port Arthur, where he also died in 1921. If you have never raised sweet potatoes yourself, you've certainly missed a horticultural treat. If one planned to plant 5 acres, such would require a large seed bed of "mother" potatoes to produce enough sprouts or "runners." After the "runners" were cut and prepared on planting day, they were pushed into the ground with a sharp stick. The long potato runners had to be turned once or twice during growing season to remove weeds. At harvest time a farmer "turned over" the mature potatoes with a turning plow, so they were exposed above the soil. While scratching them from the earth, the yams exuded a milky substance which, when mixed with dirt, hardened on the hands to such a consistency that only kerosene could remove it. I hated digging potatoes then, and I'm sure I still do. And for my many labors, I was repaid by having a baked sweet potato put in my lunch every day.