Left Wing Gordon was and is a very real person, “traveling man” de luxe in the flesh and blood. Not so John Henry, who was most probably a mythical character. Whatever other studies may report, no Negro whom we have questioned in the states of North Carolina, South Carolina and Georgia has ever seen or known of John Henry personally or known any one who has, although it is well understood that he was “mos’ fore-handed steel-drivin’ man in the world.” Still he is none the less real as a vivid picture and example of the good man hero of the race.

Although, like the story of Left Wing, the John Henry ballad carries its own intrinsic merit, this song of the black Paul Bunyan of the Negro workingman is significant for other reasons. It is, first of all, a rare creation of considerable originality, dignity and interest. It provides an excellent study in diffusion, and, as soon as the settings, variations, comparisons, and adaptations have been completed, will deserve a special brochure. For the purposes of this volume, however, we shall present simply the John Henry ballad in the forms and versions heard within the regions of this collection, with some comparative evidence of the workingman’s varied mirror of his hero. John Henry is still growing in reputation and in stature and in favor with the Negro singer, ranging in repute from the ordinary fore-handed steel-driving man to a martyred president of the United States struck down, with the hammer in his hand, by some race assassin. One youth reminiscent of all that he had heard, and minded to make his version complete, set down this:

We have found a few Negroes who were not clear in their minds about Booker T. Washington, but we have found none in North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia who had not heard something some time about John Henry. In other places, however, in Mississippi and Maryland, for instance, we understand he is not so well known. To trace the story of the ballad to its origin[89] is a difficult task and one awaiting the folk-lorist; but to gather these samples of this sort of nomad ballad is a comparatively easy and always delightful task.

There are many versions of the common story. Some hold that John Henry’s “captain” made a large wager with the boss of the steel-driving crew that John Henry could beat the steam drill down, and that John Henry did succeed but died with the last stroke of his hammer. Others claim that the wager was John Henry’s own doing and that he never could stand the new-fangled steam contraption. Leastwise he died with the hammer in his hand, some claiming in the mountain drilling stone, others in railroad cuts or tunnels of various roads recently under construction. But in all cases the central theme is the same: John Henry, powerful steel-driving man, races with the steam-drill and dies with the hammer in his hand.

Of the fragments or variations of John Henry there seems to be no end. One at Columbia, South Carolina, sets the standard of conduct as at par with John Henry and affirms that “If I could hammer like John Henry, I’d bro-by, Lawd, I’d bro-by,” which was interpreted to mean the act of passing by the whole procession of steel drivers. An Atlanta version represented John Henry as sitting on his mother’s knee, whereupon she “looked in his face an’ say, ‘John Henry, you’ll be the death o’ me’.” Another fragment from an old timer, self-styled “full-handed musicianer,” described John Henry as a steel driver who “always drove the steel” and always “beat the steam drill down,” and added that if he could drill like John Henry he would “beat all the steam drills down.” While most of the versions limited John Henry to steel driving on mountain or railroad, nevertheless there seems to be a general idea that he took turns at being a railroad man, not in the sense of working on the railroad section gangs but as an engineer, perhaps a skilled one. Part of this is the natural story centering around the logical outcome of a railroad man, and part is corruption of the Casey Jones and other noted engineer songs. One opening stanza has it,

while still others thought the K. C. or Frisco or C. & O. roads would be fatal. In the colloquial story, part of which is given later, John Henry usually told his mother and friends, just as did Jagooze and the other railroad men, about his proprietary powers in the noted railroads across the continent. Then there were the references to his firemen and “riders” and the fear of a wreck. Sometimes, as indicative of the changing form, the singer switches off from the standard John Henry lines to some other, like “goin’ up Decatur wid hat in my hand, lookin’ for woman ain’t got no man.”

For the most part, however, the versions are rather consistent. The chief differences have to do with minor details. The main story is always the same. We are now presenting a dozen or more versions of the song, beginning with what may be called the purer or more composite versions and ending with versions that have strayed far from the simple story of John Henry. The first is a common Chapel Hill version, but even that is varied almost as often as it is sung by different groups. In this and the other versions, John Henry’s wife or woman becomes in turn Delia Ann, Lizzie Ann, Polly Ann, or whatever other Ann may be thought of as representing an attractive person. Sometimes John Henry carried her in the “palm of his hand,” as indeed he is also reported to have carried his little son. When a child, John Henry also sat on his father’s knee as well as his mother’s. Sometimes it was seven-, sometimes nine-, sometimes ten-pound hammer that would be the death of him. Sometimes it was the C. & O. tunnel, sometimes steel, sometimes the hammer which was going to bring him down.

It would take a large volume to record all of the ways in which John Henry is known to the Negro worker and singer. He is known far and wide in song and story and he is the hero of hundreds of thousands of black toilers. Negroes who do work that requires rhythmic movements, such as digging or driving steel, naturally like to dwell upon the thought of the great John Henry, and they make work songs about the great hero. The four songs which follow are not only good examples of this kind of work song, but reveal something of the worker’s feeling for John Henry.

In story John Henry’s deeds often assume magnificent proportions. Indeed, the stories about him are in many respects more interesting than the songs, for the stories usually have more range and reflect more imagination than the songs. Occasionally one can find a Negro who will tell the story simply and without exaggeration, but one usually gets a version which is more or less embellished with the legendary attributes and attainments of John Henry. In the following story, John Henry is credited with such powers as would make him a close rival of Paul Bunyan himself.[94]

“One day John Henry lef’ rock quarry on way to camp an’ had to go through woods an’ fiel’. Well, he met big black bear an’ didn’t do nothin’ but shoot ’im wid his bow an’ arrer, an’ arrer went clean through bear an’ stuck in big tree on other side. So John Henry pulls arrer out of tree an’ pull so hard he falls back ’gainst ’nother tree which is full o’ flitterjacks, an’ first tree is full o’ honey, an’ in pullin’ arrer out o’ one he shaken down honey, an’ in failin’ ’gainst other he shaken down flitterjacks. Well, John Henry set there an’ et honey an’ flitterjacks an’ set there an’ et honey an’ flitterjacks, an’ after while when he went to git up to go, button pop off’n his pants an’ kill a rabbit mo’ ’n hundred ya’ds on other side o’ de tree. An’ so up jumped brown baked pig wid sack o’ biscuits on his back, an’ John Henry et him too.

“So John Henry gits up to go on through woods to camp for supper, ’cause he ’bout to be late an’ he mighty hongry for his supper. John Henry sees lake down hill and thinks he’ll git him a drink o’ water, cause he’s thirsty, too, after eatin’ honey an’ flitterjacks an’ brown roast pig an’ biscuits, still he’s hongry yet. An’ so he goes down to git drink water an’ finds lake ain’t nothin’ but lake o’ honey, an’ out in middle dat lake ain’t nothin but tree full o’ biscuits. An’ so John Henry don’t do nothin’ but drink dat lake o’ honey dry. An’ he et the tree full o’ biscuits, too.

“An’ so ’bout that time it begin’ to git dark, an’ John Henry sees light on hill an’ he think maybe he can git sumpin to eat, cause he’s mighty hongry after big day drillin’. So he look ’roun’ an’ see light on hill an’ runs up to house where light is an’ ast people livin’ dere, why’n hell dey don’t give him sumpin’ to eat, ’cause he ain’t had much. An’ so he et dat, too.

“Gee-hee, hee, dat nigger could eat! But dat ain’t all, cap’n. Dat nigger could wuk mo’ ’n he could eat. He’s greates’ steel driller ever live, regular giaunt, he wus; could drill wid his hammer mo’ ’n two steam drills, an’ some say mo’ ’n ten. Always beggin’ boss to git ’im bigger hammer, always beggin’ boss git ’im bigger hammer. John Henry wus cut out fer big giaunt driller. One day when he wus jes’ few weeks ol’ settin’ on his mammy’s knee he commence cryin’ an’ his mommer say, “John Henry, whut’s matter, little son?” An’ he up an’ say right den an’ dere dat nine-poun’ hammer be death o’ him. An’ so sho’ ’nough he grow up right ’way into bigges’ steel driller worl’ ever see. Why dis I’s tellin’ you now wus jes’ when he’s young fellow; waits til’ I tells you ’bout his drillin’ in mountains an’ in Pennsylvania. An’ so one day he drill all way from Rome, Georgia, to D’catur, mo’ ’n a hundred miles drillin’ in one day, an’ I ain’t sure dat wus his bes’ day. No, I ain’t sure dat wus his bes’ day.

“But, boss, John Henry wus a regular boy, not lak some o’ dese giaunts you read ’bout not likin’ wimmin an’ nothin’. John Henry love to come to town same as any other nigger, only mo’ so. Co’se he’s mo’ important an’ all dat, an’ co’se he had mo’ wimmin ’an anybody else,’some say mo’ ’n ten, but as to dat I don’t know. I means, boss, mo’ wimmen ’an ten men, ’cause, Lawd, I specs he had mo’ ’n thousand wimmin’. An’ John Henry wus a great co’tin’ man, too, cap’n. Always wus dat way. Why, one day when he settin’ by his pa’ in san’ out in front o’ de house, jes’ few weeks old, women come along and claim him fer deir man. An’ dat’s funny, too, but it sho’ wus dat way all his life. An’ so when he come to die John Henry had mo’ wimmin, all dressed in red an’ blue an’ all dem fine colors come to see him dead, if it las’ thing they do, an’ wus mighty sad sight, people all standin’ ’roun’, both cullud an’ white.”

Of course, no Negro believes that the foregoing story is true. But there are innumerable stories which stay within the bounds of possibility—though not always probability, to be sure—and which are thoroughly believed by the Negroes who tell them. One of the most widespread of these, and at the same time interesting and artistic, was concluded as follows by a North Carolina Negro workman:

“An’ John Henry beat dat ol’ steam drill down, but jes’ as he took his las’ stroke he fell over daid wid de hammer in his han’. Dey buried him dere in de tunnel, an’ now dey got his statue carved in solid rock at de mouth o’ de Big Ben’ tunnel on de C. & O.—das right over dere close to Asheville somewhere. No, I ain’t never been dere, but dere he stan’, carved in great big solid rock wid de hammer in his han’.”