J.O. Thompson: Magic Tricks with Tobacco

I recently got a recording of some stories from a Thompson family reunion. I transcribed a few of them, and they'll be popping up on the blog over the next month or so. The following stories are both about J.O. Thompson.

Uncle Bob shared this story, and I think it's a good introduction for the next:

I never really knew him [Granddad Thompson] very well. I got back here when he was about ready to pass on. He was always chewing tobacco. I never knew anything about tobacco--you know in our family nobody chewed. You know, he looked like he really liked it. So I said, “Hey Granddaddy, can I have some of that tobacco? So I can chew some?” He said, “Sure, son! Here, son!” So I put some back and started chewing. I didn’t know you were supposed to spit it! So I was swallowing the juice. I was chewing it like chewing gum. That was one of my first experiences with Granddaddy. He was a funny guy.

One line from that story--"He was always chewing tobacco," made this next story seem more relevant. This one's told by my mom's cousin Wayne Thompson. I really enjoy his story telling style of quoting without introduction. It keeps you on your toes!

Granddaddy kept saying, “I can kill a snake if you bring ‘im to me.” So we was down there in the plum bushes picking plums and we saw a green snake about 20 inches long. “Let’s catch that snake. Take ‘im to Granddaddy. I wanna see ‘im kill it!” So we caught the snake and brought ‘im up there. “Granddady we got you a snake! We wanna see you kill it.” He says just a minute. Take that ol plug of brown mule [chewing tobacco] and cut the corner off it with a knife he always kept razor sharp. He set there and chawed and chawed and chawed. We kept lookin’ at him. “You better gonna get ready to kill it, y’know? We have it here.” So he turned to us and, “watch this,” he said. He spit there on the snake’s head and, “wraaaagh!” the snake said and when that snake come up and “wraaagh!” he spit again right there in its mouth. Chewing tobacco, brown mule. Anyhow, that snake wiggled and carried on awful “My God, this man’s killin’ me.” He spit on him the third time in three spots he died. It killed ‘im! It killed the snake.

Sounds like someone enjoyed fascinating little boys with how powerful his spit was! 

There's another story that Mom told me about J.O. Thompson that was pretty funny, too. She said that whenever he'd located a honey tree, J.O. would work up a sweat and make sure his B.O. was all over him, and then he'd go and get the honey. The bees never bothered him because he smelled so bad!

Grace (nee Campbell) and J.O. Thompson