Today I sent the picture of the Parchman inmates with the bloodhounds to my brother in North Carolina.
When we were kids back around 1950 we lived at Camp 2. Mother was the secretary for the superintendent of Parchman. The picture was his office building. The dogs may have been the great grandfathers of some that put my brother and me up a peach tree in the orchard. We had gone to check out the crop when the man who ran the dogs happened to pass our way. We had the run of Parchman from having meals in the Camp 2 dining hall to watching movies in the hall on Saturday night with the inmates. We had a cook who was a trusty that Grandfather and Dad were able to get paroled to them when we later moved to Pheba. Mother had taught him to read and he became a preacher. Our childhood would have been an award winning book for Willie Morris.
Mickey Burgess
Tibbee
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