One of the paradoxes of the "Jim Crow" era of segregation was the allowance made for black female fortune tellers. "Aunt" Caroline Dye of Newport was perhaps the most famous of these black clairvoyants.
During the years 1890 to 1965, Arkansas -- along with the rest of the American South -- was a land of strict segregation. Black children studied in all-black schools, black travelers were denied lodging in hotels, almost all churches were segregated, and when black folks cast off their mortal coil, they were buried in black cemeteries. Still, large numbers of white people not only sought out Mrs. Dye, they paid her well for her services.
Born enslaved in South Carolina around 1843, she was brought to Arkansas by her owners, the Tracy family, when they moved to Independence County. After the Civil War, she married Martin Dye of Sulphur Rock, and about 1900 the couple settled into a large but ramshackle home on Remmel Avenue in Newport. They had one child, a daughter who died in infancy.
Dye's reputation as a seer started when she was a child. One account told of her correct prediction during the Civil War that her owner's son had not been killed early in the war as the family thought. Indeed, the son showed up for Thanksgiving dinner, 1865, telling of spending most of the war in a military hospital.
After moving to Newport, her fame spread rapidly. She was reputed to be especially successful in locating lost items such as jewelry. One man remembered Dye as having a devoted clientele: "There were scores of both Negroes and white people who regarded her as lawyer, doctor, preacher, confessor and adviser."
First-time visitors were surprised by Dye's understated style. She dressed simply, and she made no use of crystal balls or other traditional fortuneteller props. She never claimed to communicate with the dead. Sometimes she used a deck of cards, though she said they merely served to focus her concentration and the cards had no mystical powers. She usually received clients in a small, plainly furnished consulting room -- though sometimes she could be found in her favorite rocking chair on the back porch. The only photo of Caroline Dye I have ever seen shows a tall woman with white hair wearing a somber floor-length dress.
Dye's fame spread as many of her predictions proved accurate, or at least close enough to count. Famed bluesman W.C. Handy made Caroline Dye a central figure in two songs, "St. Louis Blues" and "Sundown Blues." In the latter song, about a woman's "two-timing papa," contains the lines "I'm goin' to Newport ... I mean Newport, Arkansaw! / I'm goin' there to see Aunt Car'line Dye."
Despite the song, it is likely that W.C. Handy knew little about the actual Caroline Dye. The late folklorist John Quincy Wolf, who conducted numerous interviews with people who knew Dye, wrote in 1969 that "she turned away most of those who sought advice about sweethearts, wives and husbands, telling them to work out their own problems."
The railroad station in Newport saw a steady stream of passengers arriving from places throughout Arkansas and much of the nation. One witness recalled "when the crowds hit the board walk at Second Street [in Newport], it sounded like an army."
By 1909, Dye's powers landed her on the front page of the Arkansas Democrat, where she was reported to have been visited "by a deputation of citizens in an endeavor to ascertain whether a cowering wretch being guarded by a mob was the right man to hang, following an assault upon a young woman."
Sometimes predictions were attributed to Dye which she denied. For example, the same 1909 newspaper account cited above mentions that Dye had disclaimed any predictions of impending disaster for the town of Newport, "and as a result many uneasy feelings have been calmed."
It seems Dye did not charge fees, but she expected donations. These were usually in cash. She owned a large home, which provided housing not only for Dye and her husband, but also for a retinue of staff and friends. Being totally illiterate, she maintained a full-time secretary -- and some sources say she had two secretaries. At one time she owned eight farms. Without surviving offspring of her own, she raised a number of foster children.
When Dye died in 1918, her executor called authorities to her home where a search reportedly yielded $12,000 in cash, about one-third in silver dollars. For years before her death rumors had circulated that Dye distrusted banks and had buried her wealth in various locations.
About 20 years after her death newspapers reported that a Newport man had supposedly located Dye's buried money. This unfounded rumor brought scores of spade-wielding searchers into Newport's back allies and lanes. "Men and women are digging feverishly in old fence corners and under gnarled trees," reported one journalist.
Robert D. Craig, author of the entry on Dye in the Encyclopedia of Arkansas History & Culture has noted that in more recent years "...the legend of Dye has been distorted and stretched, identifying her as a fortune teller, a 'hoodoo' woman, or a 'two-headed doctor ..."
Tom Dillard is a historian and retired archivist living near Glen Rose in Hot Spring County. Email him at Arktopia.td@gmail.com. An earlier version of this column was published Oct. 6, 2002.
NAN Profiles on 09/17/2017