The last of a two-part series about Marie Hernandez

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Sam Hernandez had completed two years of college when he went into the army in World War II, and once he was out he earned a degree in engineering at the University of Alabama. From there, he and his family — his wife, Marie, and their son, Bob — moved to Arkansas where he worked for the Corps of Engineers. Then they moved to Vicksburg.

Life for Marie took a very positive turn when she was playing bridge one day with Mary Etta Messina, who asked, “Marie, why don’t you get a job?”

Marie explained that she’d love it, but Sam didn’t want her to work. Mary Etta, who worked part time, said if she heard of anything she’d let her know.

Several nights later the phone rang. Sam answered it, and handing it to Marie, said, “The sheriff wants to talk to you.” Her thought was, “What have I done now?” It was Sheriff J.H. Henderson, who wanted somebody to start selling car tags in October, “back when you had to stand in line forever.”

She talked to Sam who reminded her about how he felt but said for her to do what she wanted to “because he knew I was going to do it anyway.” She started the next day, and when that job was over it was tax collecting time and Henderson asked her to stay on a little longer, “and I said, well, OK.”

Marie was then treasurer of the Council of Garden Clubs. They were in the process of buying Planters Hall and furnishing it, and she was negotiating to buy an antique bed from a man who had worked for the tax assessor, Henry Hayes. Hayes was handling the deal, so he got to know Marie quite well and offered her a job.

She and Sam talked about it. The salary was low, and Sam reminded her that in a professional position she’d have to spend money on clothes, more on gasoline, would have to hire someone to clean the house, would have to eat out a lot, “and it just wasn’t worth it.” She told Hayes, who said the supervisors set the salaries. A few days later he called — he had fixed it with the board of supervisors, he said.

Marie worked for Hayes until he retired, then for his successors Van Downey and Bill Anderson. When she retired in 1991, Mayor Robert Walker designated it “Marie Hernandez Day.”

Before she came to Vicksburg, Marie had another duty — she and Sam had a son to raise. While Sam was a student at the university, Marie and the baby stayed in Decatur with her mother. Across the street lived an aunt, and down the street was her grandmother. When those ladies got their husbands settled for the day, they made it straight to Marie and Bob. He was the first baby in the family in years, and they doted on him. A doctor in Decatur told Marie that the child had too many mothers!

When the family moved to Hot Springs, they lived next to an old house that had been divided into apartments. Bob was about 4 then, and every day he played with two little boys who lived next door. In the afternoons, Marie would place him on the bed and stretch out beside him so he would take a nap.

One day, as she was waiting for him to wind down and go to sleep, he asked if Mrs. Louis was Joey’s mother. She told him yes. Then he wanted to know if Mrs. Nelson was Butch’s mother. Again, she said yes and wondered, “Where is this leading?” when he asked, “Well, are you my mother?” When she assured him she was, he reached over and patted her on the cheek and said, “How nice. I’m so glad.”

Marie was “one of his four mothers, who raised him right,” and she said, “You know what? Even today, when I think about that, sometimes I tear up — when he found out that ‘Mother’ meant something.”

She laughs about the time she took him to Dr. G.B. Horn shortly after they moved here. There was nothing wrong — she just wanted the child to be used to seeing a doctor in case he got sick. After examining Bob, Dr. Horn said, “I believe you’re the prettiest little boy I’ve ever seen,” and Bob responded, “I know.”

Dr. Horn then asked him, “Are you pretty smart?” and the child assured him, “I sure am.” The doctor commented that there was nothing like self-confidence, and Marie told him he’d have to understand the background: “He was raised by four women who told him every day how pretty and how smart he was, and he doesn’t know any better.”

Marie had a chair, very pretty and upholstered in pink satin. Bob loved it, wanted to sit in it, but she wouldn’t let him until he’d had his bath. She was afraid that climbing onto it, he’d soil the fabric. After he’d had his bath, though, she’d put him in the chair, “and he’d sit there with his arms folded like he was king of the castle.”

One day, an older lady who lived nearby came for a visit and sat in the pink chair. Nobody was paying much attention to Bob who paced back and forth, clearly agitated. Finally, he stopped and looked at the lady and asked, “Are you clean?” She was probably a bit startled when she told him she thought so, but why did he ask? He told her, “You’re not allowed to sit in that chair unless you’re clean.”

Marie is a University of Alabama fan — she has to be. Her husband, son and granddaughter all went there. She does have a pin and ink of the famous coach, Bear Bryant, but admits she bought it just for the frame. She couldn’t take it out, though, “because my husband and son were so much in love with Bear Bryant.” She admits her loyalty to the Tide “cost me a fortune” because she underwrote a trip for her son and granddaughter and their spouses to an Alabama game on the West Coast.

Soon Marie will be moving to Alabama, to a retirement village near her son’s home in Birmingham. She wants her friends to visit and said, “Come on Thursday night when they have live music — and we’ll go dancing.”

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Gordon Cotton is an author and historian who lives in Vicksburg.