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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:46 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:38:46 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/12055-0.txt b/12055-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3a6b9f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/12055-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4869 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12055 *** + +[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note +[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note +[FN: ***] = Footnote + + + + +SLAVE NARRATIVES + + +A Folk History of Slavery in the United States +From Interviews with Former Slaves + + +TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT. +1936-1938 +ASSEMBLED BY +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS + +Illustrated with Photographs + + +WASHINGTON 1941 + + + + +VOLUME IX + +MISSISSIPPI NARRATIVES + + + + +Prepared by +the Federal Writers' Project of +the Works Progress Administration +for the State of Mississippi + + + +INFORMANTS + +Allen, Jim + +Baker, Anna + +Cameron, John +Clark, Gus +Cornelius, James + +Davenport, Charlie + +Emanuel, Gabe + +Franks, Dora +Franks, Pet + +Henry, Nettie +Hodges, Fanny Smith +Holliday, Wayne + +Johnson, Prince + +Kennedy, Hamp + +Lucas, James + +McAllum, Sam +Moses, Charlie + +Necaise, Henri + +Singleton, Rev. James +Smith, Berry +Snow, Susan +Stier, Isaac +Sutton, Jane + +Williams, Mollie +Wilson, Tom + +Young, Clara C. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +Mollie Williams + +Tom Wilson + + + + +[TR: Footnotes have been moved to appear within the text.] +[TR: Informant names and locations that appear in brackets + have been drawn from interviews.] + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies +Jim Allen, Clay Co. +FEC +Mrs. Ed Joiner + +[JIM ALLEN +West Point, Mississippi] + + +Jim Allen, West Point, age 87, lives in a shack furnished by the city. +With him lives his second wife, a much older woman. Both he and his wife +have a reputation for being "queer" and do not welcome outside visitors. +However, he readily gave an interview and seemed most willing to relate +the story of his life. + +"Yas, ma'm, I 'members lots about slav'ry time, 'cause I was old 'nough. + +"I was born in Russell County, Alabamy, an' can tell you 'bout my own +mammy an' pappy an' sisters an' brudders. + +"Mammy's name was Darkis an' her Marster was John Bussey, a reg'lar old +drunkard, an' my pappy's name was John Robertson an' b'longed to Dr. +Robertson, a big farmer on Tombigbee river, five miles east of Columbus. +De doctor hisself lived in Columbus. + +"My sister Harriett and brudder John was fine fiel' hands an' Marster +kep' 'em in de fiel' most of de time, tryin' to dodge other white folks. + +"Den dere was Sister Vice an' brudder George. Befo' I could 'member +much, I 'members Lee King had a saloon close to Bob Allen's store in +Russell County, Alabama, and Marse John Bussey drunk my mammy up. I +means by dat, Lee King tuk her an' my brudder George fer a whiskey +debt. Yes, old Marster drinked dem up. Den dey was car'ied to Florida by +Sam Oneal, an' George was jes a baby. You know, de white folks wouldn't +often sep'rate de mammy an' baby. I ain't seen' em since. + +"Did I work? Yes ma'm, me an' a girl worked in de fiel', carryin' one +row; _you_ know, it tuk two chullun to mek one han'. + +"Did we have good eatins? Yes ma'm, old Marster fed me so good, fer I +was his pet. He never 'lowed no one to pester me neither. Now dis +Marster was Bob Allen who had tuk me for a whiskey debt, too. Marse +Bussey couldn't pay, an' so Marse Allen tuk me, a little boy, out'n de +yard whar I was playin' marbles. De law 'lowed de fust thing de man saw, +he could take. + +"I served Marse Bob Allen 'til Gen'al Grant come 'long and had me an' +some others to follow him to Miss'sippi. We was in de woods hidin' de +mules an' a fine mare. Dis was after Emanc'pation, an' Gen'al Grant was +comin' to Miss'sippi to tell de niggers dey was free. + +"As I done tol' you, I was Marse Allen's pet nigger boy. I was called a +stray. I slep' on de flo' by old Miss an' Marse Bob. I could'a slep' on +de trun'le bed, but it was so easy jes to roll over an' blow dem ashes +an' mek dat fire burn. + +"Ole Miss was so good, I'd do anything fer her. She was so good an' +weighed' round 200 poun's. She was Marse Bob's secon' wife. Nobody +'posed on me, No, Sir! I car'ied water to Marse Bob's sto' close by an' +he would allus give me candy by de double han'full, an' as many juice +harps as I wanted. De bes' thing I ever did eat was dat candy. Marster +was good to his only stray nigger. + +"Slave niggers didn't fare wid no gardens 'cept de big garden up at de +Big House, when fiel' han's was called to wuk out hers (old Miss). All +de niggers had a sight of good things to eat from dat garden an' smoke +house. + +"I kin see old Lady Sally now, cookin' for us niggers, an' Ruth cooked +in de white folk's kitchen. Ruth an' old Man Pleas' an' old Lady Susan +was give to Marse Bob when he mar'ied an' come to Sandford, Alabamy. + +"No, dere wa'nt no jails, but a guard house. When niggers did wrong, dey +was oft'n sent dere, but mos' allus dey was jes whupped when too lazy to +wuk, an' when dey would steal. + +"Our clo'es was all wove and made on de plan'ation. Our ever'day ones, +we called 'hick'ry strips.' We had a' plen'y er good uns. We was fitted +out an' out each season, an' had two pairs of shoes, an' all de snuff +an' 'bacco we wanted every month. + +"No, not any weddin's. It was kinder dis way. Dere was a good nigger +man an' a good nigger woman, an' the Marster would say, 'I knows you +both good niggers an' I wants you to be man an' wife dis year an' raise +little niggers; den I won't have to buy' em.' + +"Marse Bob lived in a big white house wid six rooms. He had a cou't +house an' a block whar he hired out niggers, jes like mules an' cows. + +"How many slaves did us have? Les' see. Dere was old Lady Sally an' her +six chullun an' old Jake, her husban', de ox driver, fer de boss. Den +dere was old Starlin', Rose, his wife an' fo' chullun. Some of dem was +mixed blood by de oberseer. I sees 'em right now. I knowed de oberseer +was nothin' but po' white trash, jes a tramp. Den dere was me an' +Katherin. Old Lady Sally cooked for de oberseers, seven miles 'way frum +de Big House. + +"Ever'body was woke up at fo' o'clock by a bugle blowed mos'ly by a +nigger, an' was at dey work by sun-up. Den dey quits at sunset. I sho' +seed bad niggers whupped as many times as dere is leaves on dat groun'. +Not Marse Bob's niggers, but our neighbors. We was called 'free,' 'cause +Marse Bob treated us so good. The whuppin' was done by de oberseer or +driver, who would say as he put de whup to de back, '_Pray sir, pray +sir_!' + +"I seed slaves sol' oft'ener dan you got fingers an' toes. You know I +tol' you dere was a sellin' block close to our sto'. Den plen'y niggers +had to be chained to a tree or post 'cause he would run 'way an' wouldn' +wuk. + +"Dey would track de runways wid dogs an' sometimes a white scal'wag or +slacker wud be kotched dodgin' duty. I seed as many deserters as I see +corn stalks ober in dat fiel'. Dey would hide out in day time an' steal +at night. + +"No'm I didn' learn to read an' write but my folks teached me to be +honest an' min' Old Miss an' Granny. Dey didn' want us to learn how to +go to de free country. + +"We had a neighborhood chu'ch an bofe black an' white went to it. Dere +was a white preacher an' sometimes a nigger preacher would sit in de +pulpit wid him. De slaves set on one side of de aisle an' white folks on +de other. I allus liked preacher Williams Odem, an' his brudder Daniel, +de 'Slidin' Elder'.[FN: back slider] Dey come frum Ohio. Marse Bob Allen +was head steward. I' members lots of my fav'rite songs. Some of dem was, +_Am I born to Die_, _Alas and Did my Savior Bleed_, an' _Must I to de +Judgment be Brought_. The preacher would say 'Pull down de line and let +de spirit be a witnes, workin' fer faith in de future frum on high.' + +"I seed de patyrollers every week. If de niggers didn' get a pass in +han' right frum one plan'ation to 'nother, dem patyrollers would git +you. Dey would be six an' twelve in a drove, an' day would git you if +you didn' have dat piece of paper. No sun could go down on a pass. Dere +was no trouble twixt niggers den. + +"We lay down an' res' at night in de week time. Niggers in slav'ry time +riz up in de Quarters, you could hear 'em for miles. Den da cornshucking +tuk place. Den we would have singin'. When one foun' a red ear of corn, +dey would take a drink of whiskey frum de jug an' cup. We'd get through' +bout ten o'clock. De men did'n care if dey worked all night, fer we had +the 'Heav'nly Banners'[FN: women and whiskey] by us[HW:?]. + +"Sometimes we worked on Sat'day a'ternoon, owin' to de crops; but women +all knocked off on Sat'day a'ternoon. On Sat'day night, we mos'ly had +fun, playin' an drinking whiskey an' beer--no time to fool 'roun' in de +week time. + +"Some went to chu'ch an' some went fishin' on Sunday. On Chris'mas we +had a time--all kinds eatin'--wimmen got new dresses--men tobacco--had +stuff to las' 'til Summer. Niggers had good times in mos' ways in +slav'ry time. July 4th, we would wash up an' have a good time. We +hallowed dat day wid de white folks. Dere was a barbecue; big table set +down in bottoms. Dere was niggers strollin' 'roun' like ants. We was +havin' a time now. White folks too. When a slave died, dere was a to-do +over dat, hollerin' an' singin'. More fuss dan a little--'Well, sich a +one has passed out an we gwine to de grave to 'tend de fun'ral; we will +talk about Sister Sallie.' De niggers would be jumpin' as high as a cow +er mule. + +"A song we used to sing was" [HW: Sang] + + 'Come on Chariot an' Take Her Home, Take Her Home, + Here Come Chariot, les' ride, + Come on les' ride, Come on les' ride.' + +"Yessum we believed ha'nts would be at de grave yard. I didn' pay no' +tention to dem tho', for I know de evil spirit is dere. Iffen you don't +believe it, let one of 'em slap you. I ain't seed one, but I'se heard +'em. I seed someone, dey said was a ghos', but it got 'way quick. + +"When we got sick de doctor come at once, and Mistiss was right dere to +see we was cared fer. A doctor lived on our place. If you grunt he was +right dere. We had castor oil an' pills an' turpentine an' quinine when +needful, an' herbs was used. I can fin' dat stuff now what we used when +I was a boy. + + +[HW: Superstition] + +"Some of us wore brass rings on our fingers to keep off croup. Really +good--_good now_. See mine? + +"Yessum I knows all 'bout when Yankees come. Dey got us out'er de +swamp. I was layin' down by a white oak tree 'sleep, an' when I woke up +an' looked up an' saw nothin' but blue, blue, I said, 'Yonder is my +Boss's fine male hoss, Alfred. He 'tended dat horse hisself.' He took it +to heart, an' he didn' live long afte' de Blue Coats took Alfred. + +"Peace was declared to us fust in January in Alabamy, but not in +Miss'sippi 'til Grant come back, May 8th. + +"I ain't seen my boss since dem Yankees took me 'way. I was seven miles +down in de swamp when I was tuk. I wouldn' of tol' him goodbye. I jes +wouldn' of lef' him. No sir, I couldn' have lef' my good boss. He tol' +me dem Yankees was comin' to take me off. I never wanted to see him +'cause I would have went back 'cause he pertected me an' loved me. + +"Like dis week, I lef' de crowd. One day, Cap'in Bob McDaniel came by, +an' asked me if I wanted to mek fires an' wuk 'round de house. I said, +'I'd like to see de town whar you want me to go, an' den I come to West +Point. It wa'nt nothin' but cotton rows--lot of old shabby shanties, +with jes one brick sto', an' it b'longed to Ben Robertson, an' I +hope[FN: helped] build all de sto'es in West Point since den. + +"I seed de KuKlux. We would be workin'. Dem people would be in de fiel', +an' must get home 'fo dark an' shet de door. Dey wo' three cornered +white hats with de eyes way up high. Dey skeered de breeches off'n me. +First ones I got tangled up wid was right down here by de cemetery. Dey +just wanted to scare you. Night riders was de same thing. I was one of +de fellers what broke 'em up. + +"Old man Toleson was de head leader of de Negroes. Tryin' to get Negroes +to go 'gainst our white people. I spec' he was a two faced Yankee or +carpetbagger. + +"We had clubs all 'round West Point. Cap'in Shattuck out about Palo Alto +said to us niggers one day, 'Stop your foolishness--go live among your +white folks an' behave. Have sense an' be good citizens.' His advice was +good an' we soon broke up our clubs. + +"I ain't been to no school 'cept Sunday School since Surrender. A good +white man I worked with taught me 'nough to spell 'comprestibility' and +'compastibility.' I had good 'membrance an' I could have learned what +white folks taught me, an' dey sees dey manners in me. + +"I mar'ied when I was turnin' 19, an' my wife, 15. I mar'ied at big +Methodist Chu'ch in Needmore. Same old chu'ch is dere now. I hope build +it in 1865. Aunt Emaline Robertson an' Vincent Petty an' Van McCanley +started a school in de northeast part of town two years afte' de War. + +"Emaline was Mr. Ben Robertson's cook, an' her darter, Callie, was his +housekeeper, an' George an' Walter was mechanics. George became a school +teacher. + +"Abraham Lincoln worked by 'pinions of de Bible. He got his meanin's +from de Bible. 'Every man should live under his own vine and fig tree.' +Dis was Abraham's commandments. Dis is where Lincoln started, 'no one +should work for another.' + +"Jefferson Davis wanted po' man to work for rich man. He was wrong in +one 'pinion, an' right in t'other. He tried to take care of his Nation. +In one instance, Lincoln was destroying us. + +"I j'ined the church to do better an' to be with Christians an' serve +Christ. Dis I learned by 'sociation an' harmonious livin' with black an' +white, old an' young, an' to give justice to all. + +"Be fust work I did after de War was for Mr. Bob McDaniel who lived near +Waverly on de Tombigbee River. Yes ma'am, I knowed de Lees, an' de +Joiners, but on de river den an' long afte', an' worked for 'em lots in +Clay County." + + + + +Anna Baker, Ex-slave, Monroe County +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +ANNA BAKER +Aberdeen, Mississippi + + +Anna Baker, 80-year old ex-slave, is tall and well built. She is what +the Negroes term a "high brown." Her high forehead and prominent cheek +bones indicate that there is a strain of other than the pure African in +her blood. She is in fair health. + +"Lemme see how old I is. Well, I tells you jus' lak I tol' dat Home Loan +man what was here las' week. I 'members a pow'ful lot 'bout slavery +times an' 'bout 'fore surrender. I know I was a right smart size den, +so's 'cording to dat I mus' be 'roun' 'bout eighty year old. I aint sho' +'bout dat an' I don't want to tell no untruth. I know I was right smart +size 'fore de surrender, as I was a-sayin', 'cause I 'members Marster +comin' down de road past de house. When I'd see 'im 'way off I'd run to +de gate an' start singin' dis song to 'im: + + 'Here come de marster, root toot too! + Here come Marster, comin' my way! + Howdy, Marster, howdy do! + What you gwine a-bring from town today?' + +Dat would mos' nigh tickle him to death an' he'd say, 'Loosahna (dat was +his pet name for me) what you want today? I'd say, 'Bring me some +goobers, or a doll, or some stick candy, or anything. An' you can bet +yo' bottom doller he'd always bring me somp'n'. + +"One reason Marse Morgan thought so much o' me, dey say I was a right +peart young'n' an' caught on to anything pretty quick. Marster would +tell me, 'Loosanna, if you keep yo' ears open an' tell me what de +darkies talk 'bout, dey'll be somp'n' good in it for you.' (He meant for +me to listen when dey'd talk 'bout runnin' off an' such.) I'd stay +'roun' de old folks an' make lak I was a-playin'. All de time I'd be +a-listenin'. Den I'd go an' tell Marster what I hear'd. But all de time +I mus' a-had a right smart mind, 'cause I'd play 'roun' de white folks +an' hear what dey'd say an' den go tell de Niggers.--Don't guess de +marster ever thought 'bout me doin' dat. + +"I was born an' bred 'bout seven miles from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I was +de baby of de fam'ly. De house was on de right han' side o' de road to +town. I had four sisters an' one brother dat I knows of. Dey was named +Classie, Jennie, Florence, Allie, an' George. My name was Joanna, but +dey done drap de Jo part a long time ago. + +"I don't recollec' what my ma's mammy an' pappy was named, but I know +dat her pappy was a full blooded Injun. (I guess dat is where I gits my +brown color.) Her mammy was a full blooded African though, a great big +woman. + +"I recollec' a tale ray mammy tol' me 'bout my gran'pa. When he took up +wid my gran'mammy de white man what owned her say, 'If you want to stay +wid her I'll give you a home if you'll work for me lak de Niggers do.' +He 'greed, 'cause he thought a heap o' his Black Woman. (Dat's what he +called her.) Ever'thing was all right 'til one o' dem uppity overseers +tried to act smart. He say he gwine a-beat him. My gran'pappy went home +dat night an' barred de door. When de overseer an' some o' his frien's +come after him, he say he aint gwine a-open dat door. Dey say if he +don't dey gwine a-break it in. He tell' em to go 'head. + +"Whilst dey was a-breakin' in he filled a shovel full o' red hot coals +an' when dey come in he th'owed it at 'em. Den whilst dey was +a-hollerin' he run away. He aint never been seen again to dis good day. +I'se hear'd since den dat white folks learnt dat if dey started to whip +a Injun dey'd better kill him right den or else he might git dem. + +"My mammy's name was Harriet Clemens. When I was too little to know +anything 'bout it she run off an' lef' us. I don't 'member much 'bout +her 'fore she run off, I reckon I was mos' too little. + +"She tol' me when she come after us, after de war was over, all 'bout +why she had to run away: It was on 'count of de Nigger overseers. (Dey +had Niggers over de hoers an' white mens over de plow han's.) Dey kep' +a-tryin' to mess 'roun' wid her an' she wouldn' have nothin' to do wid +'em. One time while she was in de fiel' de overseer asked her to go over +to de woods wid him an' she said, 'All right, I'll go find a nice place +an' wait.' She jus' kep'a-goin. She swum de river an' run away. She +slipped back onct or twict at night to see us, but dat was all. She +hired out to some folks dat warnt rich' nough to have no' slaves o' dey +own. Dey was good to her, too. (She never lacked for work to do.) + +"When my ma went off a old woman called Aunt Emmaline kep' me. (She kep' +all de orphunt chillun an' dem who's mammas had been sent off to de +breedin' quarters. When dem women had chillun dey brung 'em an' let +somebody lak Aunt Emmaline raise em.) She was sho' mean to me. I think +it was 'cause de marster laked me an' was always a-pettin' me. She was +jealous. + +"She was always a-tryin' to whip me for somethin' or nother. One time +she hit me wid a iron miggin. (You uses it in churnin'.) It made a bad +place on my head. She done it 'cause I let some meal dat she was +parchin' burn up. After she done it she got sort a scared an' doctored +me up. She put soot on de cut to make it stop bleedin'. Nex' day she +made me promise to tell de marster dat I hurt my head when I fell out o' +de door dat night he whip Uncle Sim for stealin' a hog. Now I was asleep +dat night, but when he asked me I said, 'Aunt Emmaline say tell you I +hurt my head fallin' out de door de night you whip Uncle Sim.' Den he +say, 'Is dat de truf?' I say, 'Naw sir.' He took Aunt Emmaline down to +de gear house an' wore her out. He wouldn' tell off on me. He jus' tol' +her dat she had no bus'ness a-lettin' me stay up so late dat I seen him +do de whippin'. + +"My pa was named George Clemens. Us was all owned by Marster Morgan +Clemens. Master Hardy, his daddy, had give us to him when he 'vided out +wid de res' o' his chillun. (Marster Morgan was a settled man. He went +'roun' by hisse'f mos' o' de time. He never did marry.) + +"My pa went to de war wid Marster Morgan an' he never come back. I don't +'member much 'bout 'em goin', but after dey lef' I 'member de Blue Coats +a-comin'. Dey tore de smoke house down an' made a big fire an' cooked +all de meat dey could hol'. All us Niggers had a good time, 'cause, dey +give us all us wanted. One of 'em put me up on his knee an' asked me if +I'd ever seen Marster wid any little bright 'roun' shiny things. (He +held his hand up wid his fingers in de shape of a dollar.) I, lak a +crazy little Nigger said, 'Sho', Marster draps 'em 'hind de +mantelpiece.' Den, if dey didn' tear dat mantel down an' git his money, +I's a son-of-a-gun! + +"After de war was over my ma got some papers from de progo[FN: provost] +marshal. She come to de place an 'tol' de marster she want her chillun. +He say she can have all 'cept me. She say she want me, too, dat I was +her'n an' she was gwine a-git me. She went back an 'got some more papers +an' showed 'em to Marster Morgan. Den he lemme go. + +"She come out to de house to git us. At firs' I was scared o' her, +'cause I didn' know who she was. She put me in her lap an' she mos' nigh +cried when she seen de back o' my head. Dey was awful sores where de +lice had been an' I had scratched 'em. (She sho' jumped Aunt Emmaline +'bout dat.) Us lef' dat day an' went right on to Tuscaloosa. My ma had +married again an' she an' him took turns 'bout carrying me when I got +tired. Us had to walk de whole seven miles. + +"I went to school after dat an' learnt to read an' write. Us had white +Yankee teachers. I learnt to read de Bible well' nough an' den I quit. + +"I was buried in de water lak de Savior. I's a real Baptis'. De Holy +Sperrit sho' come into my heart. + +"I b'lieves in de Sperrit. I b'lieves all o' us when us dies is +sperrits. Us jus' hovers 'roun' in de sky a-ridin' on de clouds. Course, +some folks is born wid a cloud over dey faces. Dey can see things dat us +can't. I reckon dey sees de sperrits. I know' bout dem Kloo Kluxes. I +had to go to court one time to testify 'bout' em. One night after us had +moved to Tuscaloosa dey come after my step-daddy. Whilst my ma an' de +res' went an' hid I went to de door. I warnt scared. I says, 'Marster +Will, aint dat you?' He say, 'Sho', it's me. Whar's yo' daddy?' I tol' +'im dat he'd gone to town. Den dey head out for 'im. In de meantime my +ma she had started out, too. She warned him to hide, so dey didn' git +'im. + +"Soon after dat de Yankees hel' a trial in Tuscaloosa. Dey carried me. A +man hel' me up an' made me p'int out who it was dat come to our house. I +say, 'Dat's de man, aint it Marster Will?' He couldn' say "No", 'cause +he'd tol' me twas him dat night. Dey put 'em in jail for six months an' +give 'em a big fine. + +"Us moved from Tuscaloosa while I was still a young girl an' went to +Pickensville, Alabama. Us stayed dar on de river for awhile an' den +moved to Columbus, Mississippi. I lived dar 'til I was old 'nough to git +out to myse'f. + +"Den I come to Aberdeen an' married Sam Baker. Me an' Sam done well. He +made good money an' us bought dis very house I lives in now. Us never +had no chillun, but I was lef' one by a cousin o' mine what died. I +raised her lak she was my own. I sont her to school an' ever'thing. She +lives in Chicago now an' wants me to come live wid her. But shucks! What +would a old woman lak me do in a place lak dat? + +"I aint got nothin' lef now 'cept a roof over my head. I wouldn' have +dat 'cept for de President o' de United States. Dey had loaned me some +money to fix up de house to keep it from fallin' down on me. Dey said +I'd have fifteen year to pay it back in. Now course, I knowed I'd be +dead in dat time, so I signed up wid' em. + +"Las' year de men dat collec' nearly worrit me to death a-tryin' to git +some money from me. I didn' have none, so dey say dey gwine a-take my +home. + +"Now I hear tell o' dat barefoot Nigger down at Columbus callin' de +president an' him bein' so good to 'im. So I 'cided to write an' tell +'im what a plight dis Nigger was in. I didn' say nothin noxious[FN: +obnoxious], but I jus' tol' him plain facts. He writ me right back an' +pretty soon he sont a man down to see me. He say I needn' bother no +more, dat dey won't take my house 'way from me. An' please de Lawd! Dey +aint nobody else been here a-pesterin' me since. + +"Dat man tol' me soon as de old age pension went th'ough I'd git thirty +dollars a mont' stid[FN: instead] o' de four I's a-gittin' now. Now +won't dat be gran'? I could live lak de white folks on dat much. + +"I'se had 'ligion all my born days. (I never learnt to read de Bible an' +'terpet de Word 'til I was right smart size, but I mus' o' b'lieved in +de Lawd since 'way back.) I'se gwine a-go right 'long an' keep +a-trustin' de good Lawd an' I knows ever'thing gwine a-come out all +right. + +"'Twixt de Lawd an' de good white folks I know I's gwine always have +somethin' t'eat. President Roosevelt done 'tended to de roof over my +head." + + + + +JOHN CAMERON +Jackson, Mississippi + + +John Cameron, ex-slave, lives in Jackson. He was born in 1842 and was +owned by Howell Magee. He is five feet six inches tall, and weighs about +150 pounds. His general coloring is blackish-brown with white kinky +hair. He is in fairly good health. + +"I'se always lived right here in Hinds County. I's seen Jackson grow +from de groun' up. + +"My old Marster was de bes' man in de worl'. I jus' wish I could tell, +an' make it plain, jus' how good him an' old Mistis was. Marster was a +rich man. He owned 'bout a thousand an' five hund'ed acres o' lan' an' +roun' a hund'ed slaves. Marster's big two-story white house wid +lightning rods standin' all 'bout on de roof set on top of a hill. + +"De slave cabins, 'cross a valley from de Big House, was built in rows. +Us was 'lowed to sing, play de fiddles, an' have a good time. Us had +plenty t' eat and warm clo'es an' shoes in de winter time. De cabins was +kep' in good shape. Us aint never min' workin' for old Marster, cause us +got good returns. Dat meant good livin' an' bein' took care of right. +Marster always fed his slaves in de Big House. + +"De slaves would go early to de fiel's an work in de cotton an' corn. +Dey had different jobs. + +"De overseers was made to un'erstan' to be 'siderate of us. Work went on +all de week lak dat. Dey got off from de fiel's early on Satu'd'y +evenin's, washed up an' done what dey wanted to. Some went huntin' or +fishin', some fiddled an' danced an' sung, while de others jus' lazed +roun' de cabins. Marse had two of de slaves jus' to be fiddlers. Dey +played for us an' kep' things perked up. How us could swing, an' +step-'bout by dat old fiddle music always a-goin' on. Den old Marster +come 'roun' wid his kin'ly smile an' jov'al sp'rits. When things went +wrong he always knowed a way. He knowed how to comfort you in trouble. + +"Now, I was a gardner or yard boy. Dat was my part as a slave. I he'ped +keep de yard pretty an' clean, de grass cut, an' de flowers' tended to +an' cut. I taken dat work' cause I lak's pretty flowers. I laks to buil' +frames for 'em to run on an' to train 'em to win' 'roun'. I could monkey +wid 'em all de time. + +"When folks started a-comin' through talkin' 'bout a-freein' us an' +a-givin' us lan' an' stuff, it didn' take wid Marster's slaves. Us didn' +want nothin' to come 'long to take us away from him. Dem a tellin' de +Niggers dey'd git lan' an' cattle an' de lak of dat was all foolis'ness, +nohow. Us was a-livin' in plenty an' peace. + +"De war broke out spite o' how Marster's Niggers felt. When I seen my +white folks leave for war, I cried myself sick, an' all de res' did too. +Den de Yankees come through a-takin' de country. Old Marster refugeed us +to Virginny. I can't say if de lan' was his'n, but he had a place for us +to stay at. I know us raised 'nough food stuff for all de slaves. +Marster took care o' us dere 'til de war ended. + +"Den he come to camp late one evenin' an tol' us dat us was free as he +was; dat us could stay in Virginny an work or us could come to +Mississippi wid him. Might nigh de whole passel bun'led up an' come +back, an' glad to do it, too. Dar us all stayed 'til de family all died. +De las' one died a few years ago an' lef' us few old darkies to grieve +over 'em. + +"I don' know much 'bout de Klu Klux Klan an' all dat. Dey rode 'bout at +night an' wore long white ghos'-lak robes. Dey whup folks an' had +meetin's way off in de woods at midnight. Dey done all kinds o' curious +things. None never did bother 'bout Marster's place, so I don' know much +'bout 'em. + +"After de War it took a mighty long time to git things a-goin' smooth. +Folks an' de Gov'ment, too, seem lak dey was all up-set an' threatened +lak. For a long time it look lak things gwine bus' loose ag'in. Mos' +ever'thing was tore up an' burned down to de groun'. It took a long time +to build back dout no money. Den twant de gran' old place it was de +firs' time. + +"I married when I was a young man. I was lucky 'nough to git de nex' +bes' woman in de worl'. (Old Mis' was de bes'.) Dat gal was so good 'til +I had to court 'er mos' two years 'fore she'd say she'd have me. + +"Us had six chillun. Three of 'em's still livin'. I can't say much for +my chillun. I don' lak to feel hard, but I tried to raise my chillun de +bes' I could. I educated 'em; even bought 'em a piano an' give em' +music. One of 'em is in Memphis, 'nother'n in Detroit, an' de other'n in +Chicago. I writes to 'em to he'p me, but don' never hear from 'em. I's +old an' dey is forgot me, I guess. + +"Dat seems to be de way of de worl' now. Ever'thing an' ever'body is too +fas' an' too frivoless[FN: frivilous] dese here times. I tell you, folks +ought to be more lak old Marster was. + +"I's a Christian an' loves de Lawd. I expects to go to him 'fore long. +Den I know I's gwine see my old Marstar an' Mistis ag'in." + + +BIBLIOGRAPHY + +John Cameron: Jackson, Mississippi. + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[GUS CLARK +Howison, Mississippi] + + +Uncle Gus Clark and his aged wife live in a poverty-stricken deserted +village about an eighth of a mile east of Howison. + +Their old mill cabin, a relic of a forgotten lumber industry, is +tumbling down. They received direct relief from the ERA until May, 1934, +when the ERA changed the dole to work relief. Uncle Gus, determined to +have a work card, worked on the road with the others until he broke down +a few days later and was forced to accept direct relief. Now, neither +Gus nor Liza is able to work, and the only help available for them is +the meager State Old Age Assistance. Gus still manages to tend their +tiny garden. + +He gives his story: + +"I'se gwine on 'bout eighty-five. 'At's my age now. I was born at +Richmond, Virginny, but lef' dare right afte' de War. Dey had done +surrendered den, an' my old marster doan have no mo' power over us. We +was all free an' Boss turned us loose. + +"My mammy's name was Judy, an' my pappy was Bob. Clark was de Boss's +name. I doan 'member my mammy, but pappy was workin' on de railroad +afte' freedom an' got killed. + +"A man come to Richmond an' carried me an' pappy an' a lot of other +niggers ter Loos'anna ter work in de sugar cane. I was little but he +said I could be a water boy. It sho' was a rough place. Dem niggers +quar'l an' fight an' kills one 'nother. Big Boss, he rich, an' doan 'low +no sheriff ter come on his place. He hol' cou't an' settle all 'sputes +hisself. He done bury de dead niggers an' put de one what killed him +back to work. + +"A heap of big rattlesnakes lay in dem canebrakes, an' dem niggers shoot +dey heads off an' eat 'em. It didn' kill de niggers. Dem snakes was fat +an' tender, an' fried jes lak chicken. + +"Dere in Loos'anna we doan get no pay 'til de work is laid by. Den we'se +paid big money, no nickels. Mos' of de cullud mens go back to where dey +was raised. + +"Dat was afte' freedom, but my daddy say dat de niggers earn money on +Old Boss' place even durin' slav'ry. He give 'em every other Sat'dy fer +deyse'ves. Dey cut cordwood fer Boss, wimmens an' all. Mos' of de mens +cut two cords a day an' de wimmens one. Boss paid 'em a dollar a cord. +Dey save dat money, fer dey doan have to pay it out fer nothin'. Big +Boss didn' fail to feed us good an' give us our work clo'es. An' he paid +de doctor bills. Some cullud men saved enough to buy deyse'ves frum +Boss, as free as I is now. + +"Slav'ry was better in some ways 'an things is now. We allus got plen'y +ter eat, which we doan now. We can't make but fo' bits a day workin' out +now, an' 'at doan buy nothin' at de sto'. Co'se Boss only give us work +clo'es. When I was a kid I got two os'berg[FN: Osnaberg: the cheapest +grade of cotton cloth] shirts a year. I never wo' no shoes. I didn' know +whut a shoe was made fer, 'til I'se twelve or thirteen. We'd go rabbit +huntin' barefoot in de snow. + +"Didn' wear no Sunday clo'es. Dey wa'nt made fer me, 'cause I had +nowhere ter go. You better not let Boss ketch you off'n de place, less'n +he give you a pass to go. My Boss didn' 'low us to go to church, er to +pray er sing. Iffen he ketched us prayin' er singin' he whupped us. He +better not ketch you with a book in yo' han'. Didn' 'low it. I doan know +whut de reason was. Jess meanness, I reckin. I doan b'lieve my marster +ever went to church in his life, but he wa'nt mean to his niggers, 'cept +fer doin' things he doan 'low us to. He didn' care fer nothin' 'cept +farmin'. + +"Dere wa'nt no schools fer cullud people den. We didn' know whut a +school was. I never did learn to read. + +"We didn' have no mattresses on our beds like we has now. De chullun +slep' under de big high beds, on sacks. We was put under dem beds 'bout +eight o'clock, an' we'd jes better not say nothin' er make no noise +afte' den. All de cullud folks slep' on croker sacks full of hay er +straw. + +"Did I ever see any niggers punished? Yessum, I sho' has. Whupped an' +chained too. Day was whupped 'til de blood come, 'til dey back split all +to pieces. Den it was washed off wid salt, an' de nigger was put right +back in de fiel'. Dey was whupped fer runnin' away. Sometimes dey run +afte' 'em fer days an nights with dem big old blood houn's. Heap o' +people doan b'lieve dis. But I does, 'cause I seed it myse'f. + +"I'se lived here forty-five years, an' chipped turpentine mos' all my +life since I was free. + +"I'se had three wives. I didn' have no weddin's, but I mar'ied 'em +'cordin to law. I woan stay with one no other way. My fust two wives is +dead. Liza an' me has been mar'ied 'bout 'leven years. I never had but +one chile, an' 'at by my fust wife, an' he's dead. But my other two +wives had been mar'ied befo', an' had chullun. 'Simon here,' pointing to +a big buck of fifty-five sitting on the front porch, 'is Liza's oldest +boy.'" + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[JAMES CORNELIUS +Magnolia, Mississippi] + + +James Cornelius lives in Magnolia in the northwestern part of the town, +in the Negro settlement. He draws a Confederate pension of four dollars +per month. He relates events of his life readily. + +"I does not know de year I was borned but dey said I was 15 years old +when de War broke out an' dey tell me I'se past 90 now. Dey call me +James Cornelius an' all de white folks says I'se a good 'spectable +darkey. + +"I was borned in Franklin, Loos'anna. My mammy was named Chlo an' dey +said my pappy was named Henry. Dey b'longed to Mr. Alex Johnson an' +whil'st I was a baby my mammy, my brudder Henry, an' me was sol' to +Marse Sam Murry Sandell an' we has brung to Magnolia to live an' I niver +remember seein' my pappy ag'in. + +"Marse Murry didn' have many slaves. His place was right whar young +Mister Lampton Reid is buildin' his fine house jes east of de town. My +mammy had to work in da house an' in de fiel' wid all de other niggers +an' I played in de yard wid de little chulluns, bofe white an' black. +Sometimes we played 'tossin' de ball' an' sometimes we played +'rap-jacket' an' sometimes 'ketcher.' An' when it rained we had to go in +de house an' Old Mistess made us behave. + +"I was taught how to work 'round de house, how to sweep an' draw water +frum de well an' how to kin'le fires an' keep de wood box filled wid +wood, but I was crazy to larn how to plow an' when I could I would slip +off an' get a old black man to let me walk by his side an' hold de lines +an' I thought I was big 'nouf to plow. + +"Marse Murry didn' have no overseer. He made de slaves work, an' he was +good an' kind to 'em, but when dey didn' do right he would whip 'em, but +he didn' beat 'em. He niver stripped 'em to whip 'em. Yes ma'm, he +whipped me but I needed it. One day I tol' him I was not goin' to do +whut he tol' me to do--feed de mule--but when he got through wid me I +_wanted_ to feed dat mule. + +"I come to live wid Marse Murry 'fo dar was a town here. Dar was only +fo' houses in dis place when I was a boy. I seed de fust train dat come +to dis here town an' it made so much noise dat I run frum it. Dat smoke +puffed out'n de top an' de bell was ringin' an' all de racket it did +make made me skeered. + +"I heered dem talkin' 'bout de war but I didn' know whut dey meant an' +one day Marse Murry said he had jined de Quitman Guards an' was goin' to +de war an' I had to go wid him. Old Missus cried an' my mammy cried but +I thought it would be fun. He tuk me 'long an' I waited on him. I kept +his boots shinin' so yer could see yer face in 'em. I brung him water +an' fed an' cur'ied his hoss an' put his saddle on de hoss fer him. Old +Missus tol' me to be good to him an' I was. + +"One day I was standin' by de hoss an' a ball kilt[FN: killed] de hoss +an' he fell over dead an' den I cried like it mout[FN: might] be my +brudder. I went way up in Tennessee an' den I was at Port Hudson. I seed +men fall dawn an' die; dey was kilt like pigs. Marse Murry was shot an' +I stayed wid him 'til dey could git him home. Dey lef' me behin' an' +Col. Stockdale an' Mr. Sam Matthews brung me home. + +"Marse Murry died an' Old Missus run de place. She was good an' kind to +us all an' den she mar'ied afte' while to Mr. Gatlin. Dat was afte' de +war was over. + +"Whil'st I was in de war I seed Mr. Jeff Davis. He was ridin' a big hoss +an' he looked mighty fine. I niver seed him 'ceptin he was on de hoss. + +"Dey said old man Abe Lincoln was de nigger's friend, but frum de way +old Marse an' de sojers talk 'bout him I thought he was a mighty mean +man. + +"I doan recollec' when dey tol' us we was freed but I do know Mr. Gatlin +would promise to pay us fer our work an' when de time would come fer to +pay he said he didn' have it an' kep' puttin us off, an' we would work +some more an' git nothin' fer it. Old Missus would cry an' she was good +to us but dey had no money. + +"'Fo de war Marse Murry would wake all de niggers by blowin' a big +'konk' an' den when dinner time would come Old Missus would blow de +'konk' an' call dem to dinner. I got so I could blow dat 'konk' fer Old +Missus but oh! it tuk my wind. + +"Marse Murry would 'low me to drive his team when he would go to market. +I could haul de cotton to Covin'ton an' bring back whut was to eat, an' +all de oxen could pull was put on dat wagon. We allus had good eatin +afte' we had been to market. + +"Every Chris'mus would come I got a apple an' some candy an' mammy would +cook cake an' pies fer Old Missus an' stack dem on de shelf in de big +kitchen an' we had every thing good to eat. Dem people sho' was good an' +kind to all niggers. + +"Afte de war de times was hard an' de white an' black people was +fightin' over who was to git de big office, an' den dere was mighty +leetle to eat. Dar was plen'y whiskey, but I'se kep' 'way frum all dat. +I was raised right. Old Missus taught me ter 'spect white folks an' some +of dem promised me land but I niver got it. All de land I'se ever got I +work mighty hard fer it an' I'se got it yit. + +"One day afte' Mr. Gatlin said he couldn' pay me I run 'way an' went to +New Orleans an' got a job haulin' cotton, an' made my 50 cents an' +dinner every day. I sho' had me plen'y money den. I stayed dere mighty +close on to fo' years an' den I went to Tylertown an' hauled cotton to +de railroad fer Mr. Ben Lampton. Mr. Lampton said I was de bes' driver +of his team he ever had caze I kep' his team fat. + +"Afte I come back to Miss'ssippi I mar'ied a woman named Maggie Ransom. +We stayed together 51 years. I niver hit her but one time. When we was +gittin' mar'ied I stopped de preacher right in de ceremony an' said to +her, 'Maggie, iffen you niver call me a liar I will niver call you one' +an' she said, 'Jim, I won't call you a liar.' I said, 'That's a bargain' +an' den de preacher went on wid de weddin'. Well, one day afte' we had +been mar'ied' bout fo' years, she ast[FN: asked] me how come I was so +late comin' to supper, an' I said I found some work to do fer a white +lady, an' she said, that's a lie,' an' right den I raised my han' an' +let her have it right by de side of de head, an' she niver called me a +liar ag'in. No ma'm, dat is somethin' I won't stand fer. + +"My old lady had seven chulluns dat lived to git grown. Two of 'em lived +here in Magnolia an' de others gone North. Maggie is daid an' I live wid +my boy Walter an' his wife Lena. Dey is mighty good to me. I owns dis +here house an' fo' acres but day live wid me an' I gits a Confed'rate +pension of fo' dollars a month. Dat gives me my coffee an' 'bacco. I'se +proud I'se a old sojer, I seed de men fall when dey was shot but I was +not skeered. We et bread when we could git it an' if we couldn' git it +we done widout. + +"Afte' I lef' Mr. Lampton I'se come here an' went to work fer Mr. Enoch +at Fernwood when his mill was jes a old rattletrap of a mill. I work fer +him 45 years. At fust I hauled timber out'n de woods an' afte' whil'st I +hauled lumber to town to build houses. I sometimes collec' fer de lumber +but I niver lost one nickle, an' dem white folks says I sho' was a +honest nigger. + +"I lived here on dis spot an' rode a wheel to Fernwood every day, an' +fed de teams an' hitched 'em to de wagons an' I was niver late an' niver +stopped fer anything, an' my wheel niver was in de shop. I niver 'lowed +anybody to prank wid it, an' dat wheel was broke up by my gran'chulluns. + +"Afte I quit work at de mill I'se come home an' plow gardens fer de +white folks an' make some more money. I sho' could plow. + +"I jined de New Zion Baptist Church here in Magnolia an' was baptized in +de Tanghipoa River one Sunday evenin'. I was so happy dat I shouted, me +an' my wife bofe. I'se still a member of dat church but I do not preach +an' I'm not no deacon; I'se jes a bench member an' a mighty po' one at +dat. My wife was buried frum dat church. + +"Doan know why I was not called Jim Sandell, but mammy said my pappy was +named Henry Cornelius an' I reckin I was give my pappy's name. + +"When I was a young man de white folks' Baptist Church was called Salem +an' it was on de hill whar de graveyard now is. It burnt down an' den +dey brung it to town, an' as I was goin' to tell yer I went possum +huntin' in dat graveyard one night. I tuk my ax an' dog 'long wid me an' +de dog, he treed a possum right in de graveyard. I cut down dat tree an' +started home, when all to once somethin' run by me an' went down dat big +road lak light'ning an' my dog was afte' it. Den de dog come back an' +lay down at my feet an' rolled on his back an' howled an' howled, an' +right den I knowed it was a sperit an' I throwed down my 'possum an' ax +an' beat de dog home. I tell you dat was a sperit--I'se seed plen'y of +'em. Dat ain't de only sperit I ever seed. I'se seen 'em a heap of +times. Well, dat taught me niver to hunt in a grave yard ag'in. + +"No ma'm, I niver seed a ghost but I tell yer I know dere is sperits. +Let me tell yer, anudder time I was goin' by de graveyard an' I seed a +man's head. He had no feet, but he kep' lookin' afte' me an' every way I +turned he wouldn' take his eye offen me, an' I walked fast an' he got +faster an' den I run an' den he run, an' when I got home I jes fell on +de bed an' hollered an' hollered an' tol' my old lady, an' she said I +was jes' skeered, but I'se sho' seed dat sperit an' I ain't goin' by de +grave yard at night by myse'f ag'in. + +"An' let me tell yer dis. Right in front of dis house--yer see dat +white house?--Well, last Febr'ary a good old cullud lady died in dat +house, an' afte' she was buried de rest of de fambly moved away, an' +every night I kin look over to dat house an' see a light in de window. +Dat light comes an' goes, an' nobody lives dar. Doan I know dat is de +sperit of dat woman comin' back here to tell some of her fambly a +message? Yes ma'm, dat is her sperit an' dat house is hanted an' nobody +will live dar ag'in. + +"No ma'm, I can't read nor write." + + + + +Charlie Davenport, Ex-slave, Adams County +FEC +Edith Wyatt Moore +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +[CHARLIE DAVENPORT +Natchez, Mississippi] + + +"I was named Charlie Davenport an' encordin'[FN: according] to de way I +figgers I ought to be nearly a hund'ed years old. Nobody knows my +birthday, 'cause all my white folks is gone. + +"I was born one night an' de very nex' mornin' my po' little mammy died. +Her name was Lucindy. My pa was William Davenport. + +"When I was a little mite dey turnt me over to de granny nurse on de +plantation. She was de one dat 'tended to de little pickaninnies. She +got a woman to nurse me what had a young baby, so I didn' know no +dif'ence. Any woman what had a baby 'bout my age would wet nurse me, so +I growed up in de quarters an' was as well an' as happy as any other +chil'. + +"When I could _tote taters_[FN: sweet potatoes] dey'd let me pick' em up +in de fiel'. Us always hid a pile away where us could git' em an' roast' +em at night. + +"Old mammy nearly always made a heap o' dewberry an' 'simmon[FN: +persimmon]. wine. + +"Us little tykes would gather black walnuts in de woods an' store 'em +under de cabins to dry. + +"At night when de work was all done an' de can'les was out us'd set +'roun' de fire an' eat cracked nuts an' taters. Us picked out de nuts +wid horse-shoe nails an' baked de taters in ashes. Den Mammy would pour +herse'f an' her old man a cup o' wine. Us never got none o' dat +less'n[FN: unless] us be's sick. Den she'd mess it up wid wild cherry +bark. It was bad den, but us gulped it down, anyhow. + +"Old Granny used to sing a song to us what went lak dis: + + 'Kinky head, whar-fore you skeered? + Old snake crawled off, 'cause he's afeared. + Pappy will smite 'im on de back + Wid a great big club--ker whack! Ker whack!' + +"Aventine, where I was born an' bred, was acrost Secon' Creek. It was a +big plantation wid 'bout a hund'ed head o' folks a-livin' on it. It was +only one o' de marster's places, 'cause he was one o' de riches' an' +highes' quality gent'men in de whole country. I's tellin' you de trufe, +us didn' b'long to no white trash. De marster was de Honorable Mister +Gabriel Shields hisse'f. Ever'body knowed 'bout him. He married a +Surget. + +"Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches' fam'ly in +de lan'. Dey was de out-fightin'es', out-cussin'es', fastes' ridin', +hardes' drinkin', out-spendin'es' folks I ever seen. But Lawd! Lawd! Dey +was gent'men even in dey cups. De ladies was beautiful wid big black +eyes an' sof' white han's, but dey was high strung, too. + +"De marster had a town mansion what's pictured in a lot o' books. It was +called 'Montebella.' De big columns still stan' at de end o' Shields +Lane. It burnt 'bout thirty years ago (1937). + +"I's part Injun. I aint got no Nigger nose an' my hair is so long I has +to keep it wropped[FN: wrapped]. I'se often heard my mammy was +redish-lookin' wid long, straight, black hair. Her pa was a full blooded +Choctaw an' mighty nigh as young as she was. I'se been tol' dat nobody +dast[FN: dared] meddle wid her. She didn' do much talkin', but she sho' +was a good worker. My pappy had Injun blood, too, but his hair was +kinky. + +"De Choctaws lived all 'roun' Secon' Creek. Some of 'em had cabins lak +settled folks. I can 'member dey las' chief. He was a tall pow'ful built +man named 'Big Sam.' What he said was de law, 'cause he was de boss o' +de whole tribe. One rainy night he was kilt in a saloon down in 'Natchez +Under de Hill.' De Injuns went wild wid rage an' grief. Dey sung an' +wailed an' done a heap o' low mutterin'. De sheriff kep' a steady watch +on' em, 'cause he was afeared dey would do somethin' rash. After a long +time he kinda let up in his vig'lance. Den one night some o' de Choctaw +mens slipped in town an' stobbed[FN: stabbed] de man dey b'lieved had +kilt Big Sam. I 'members dat well. + +"As I said b'fore, I growed up in de quarters. De houses was clean an' +snug. Us was better fed den dan I is now, an' warmer, too. Us had +blankets an' quilts filled wid home raised wool an' I jus' loved layin' +in de big fat feather bed a-hearin' de rain patter on de roof. + +"All de little darkeys he'ped bring in wood. Den us swept de yards wid +brush brooms. Den sometimes us played together in de street what run de +length o' de quarters. Us th'owed horse-shoes, jumped poles, walked on +stilts, an' played marbles. Sometimes us made bows an' arrows. Us could +shoot 'em, too, jus lak de little Injuns. + +"A heap of times old Granny would brush us hide wid a peach tree limb, +but us need it. Us stole aigs[FN: eggs] an' roasted 'em. She sho' +wouldn' stan' for no stealin' if she knowed it. + +"Us wore lowell-cloth shirts. It was a coarse tow-sackin'. In winter us +had linsey-woolsey pants an' heavy cow-hide shoes. Dey was made in three +sizes--big, little, an' mejum[FN: medium]. Twant no right or lef'. Dey +was sorta club-shaped so us could wear 'em on either foot. + +"I was a teasin', mis-che-vious chil' an' de overseer's little gal got +it in for me. He was a big, hard fisted Dutchman bent on gittin' riches. +He trained his pasty-faced gal to tattle on us Niggers. She got a heap +o' folks whipped. I knowed it, but I was hasty: One day she hit me wid a +stick an' I th'owed it back at her. 'Bout dat time up walked her pa. He +seen what I done, but he didn' see what she done to me. But it wouldn' +a-made no dif'ence, if he had. + +"He snatched me in de air an' toted me to a stump an' laid me 'crost it. +I didn' have but one thickness 'twixt me an' daylight. Gent'men! He laid +it on me wid dat stick. I thought I'd die. All de time his mean little +gal was a-gloatin' in my misery. I yelled an' prayed to de Lawd 'til he +quit. + +"Den he say to me, + +'From now on you works in de fiel'. I aint gwine a-have no vicious boy +lak you 'roun de lady folks.' I was too little for fiel' work, but de +nex' mornin' I went to choppin' cotton. After dat I made a reg'lar fiel' +han'. When I growed up I was a ploughman. I could sho' lay off a pretty +cotton row, too. + +"Us slaves was fed good plain grub. 'Fore us went to de fiel' us had a +big breakfas' o' hot bread, 'lasses, fried salt meat dipped in corn +meal, an' fried taters[FN: sweet potatoes]. Sometimes us had fish an' +rabbit meat. When us was in de fiel', two women 'ud come at dinner-time +wid baskets filled wid hot pone, baked taters, corn roasted in de +shucks, onion, fried squash, an' b'iled pork. Sometimes dey brought +buckets o' cold buttermilk. It sho' was good to a hongry man. At +supper-time us had hoecake an' cold vi'tals. Sometimes dey was sweetmilk +an' collards. + +"Mos' ever' slave had his own little garden patch an' was 'lowed to cook +out of it. + +"Mos' ever plantation kep' a man busy huntin' an' fishin' all de time. +(If dey shot a big buck, us had deer meat roasted on a spit.) + +"On Sundays us always had meat pie or fish or fresh game an' roasted +taters an' coffee. On Chris'mus de marster 'ud give us chicken an' +barrels o' apples an' oranges. 'Course, ever' marster warnt as free +handed as our'n was. (He was sho' 'nough quality.) I'se hear'd dat a +heap o' cullud people never had nothin' good t'eat. + +"I warnt learnt nothin' in no book. Don't think I'd a-took to it, +nowhow. Dey learnt de house servants to read. Us fiel' han's never +knowed nothin' 'cept weather an' dirt an' to weigh cotton. Us was learnt +to figger a little, but dat's all. + +"I reckon I was 'bout fifteen when hones' Abe Lincoln what called +hisse'f a rail-splitter come here to talk wid us. He went all th'ough de +country jus' a-rantin' an' a-preachin' 'bout us bein' his black +brothers. De marster didn' know nothin' 'bout it, 'cause it was sorta +secret-lak. It sho' riled de Niggers up an' lots of 'em run away. I sho' +hear'd him, but I didn' pay 'im no min'. + +"When de war broke out dat old Yankee Dutch overseer o' our'n went back +up North, where he b'longed. Us was pow'ful glad an' hoped he'd git his +neck broke. + +"After dat de Yankees come a-swoopin' down on us. My own pappy took off +wid 'em. He j'ined a comp'ny what fit[FN: fought] at Vicksburg. I was +plenty big 'nough to fight, but I didn' hanker to tote no gun. I stayed +on de plantation an' put in a crop. + +"It was pow'ful on easy times after dat. But what I care 'bout freedom? +Folks what was free was in misery firs' one way an' den de other. + +"I was on de plantation closer to town, den. It was called 'Fish Pond +Plantation.' De white folks come an' tol' us we mus' burn all de cotton +so de enemy couldn' git it. + +"Us piled it high in de fiel's lak great mountains. It made my innards +hurt to see fire 'tached to somethin' dat had cost us Niggers so much +labor an' hones' sweat. If I could a-hid some o' it in de barn I'd +a-done it, but de boss searched ever'where. + +"De little Niggers thought it was fun. Dey laughed an' brung out big +armfuls from de cotton house. One little black gal clapped her han's an' +jumped in a big heap. She sunk down an' down' til she was buried deep. +Den de wind picked up de flame an' spread it lak lightenin'. It spread +so fas' dat 'fore us could bat de eye, she was in a mountain of fiah. +She struggled up all covered wid flames, a-screamin',' Lawdy, he'p me!' +Us snatched her out an' rolled her on de groun', but twant no use. She +died in a few minutes. + +"De marster's sons went to war. De one what us loved bes' never come +back no more. Us mourned him a-plenty, 'cause he was so jolly an' +happy-lak, an' free wid his change. Us all felt cheered when he come +'roun'. + +"Us Niggers didn' know nothin' 'bout what was gwine on in de outside +worl'. All us knowed was dat a war was bein' fit. Pussonally, I b'lieve +in what Marse Jefferson Davis done. He done de only thing a gent'man +could a-done. He tol' Marse Abe Lincoln to 'tend to his own bus'ness an' +he'd 'tend to his'n. But Marse Lincoln was a fightin' man an' he come +down here an' tried to run other folks' plantations. Dat made Marse +Davis so all fired mad dat he spit hard 'twixt his teeth an' say, 'I'll +whip de socks off dem dam Yankees.' + +"Dat's how it all come 'bout. + +"My white folks los' money, cattle, slaves, an' cotton in de war, but +dey was still better off dan mos' folks. + +"Lak all de fool Niggers o' dat time I was right smart bit by de freedom +bug for awhile. It sounded pow'ful nice to be tol': + +'You don't have to chop cotton no more. You can th'ow dat hoe down an' +go fishin' whensoever de notion strikes you. An' you can roam' roun' at +night an' court gals jus' as late as you please. Aint no marster gwine +a-say to you, "Charlie, you's got to be back when de clock strikes +nine."' + +"I was fool 'nough to b'lieve all dat kin' o' stuff. But to tell de +hones' truf, mos' o' us didn' know ourse'fs no better off. Freedom meant +us could leave where us'd been born an' bred, but it meant, too, dat us +had to scratch for us ownse'fs. Dem what lef' de old plantation seemed +so all fired glad to git back dat I made up my min' to stay put. I +stayed right wid my white folks as long as I could. + +"My white folks talked plain to me. Dey say real sad-lak, 'Charlie, +you's been a dependence, but now you can go if you is so desirous. But +if you wants to stay wid us you can share-crop. Dey's a house for you +an' wood to keep you warm an' a mule to work. We aint got much cash, but +dey's de lan' an' you can count on havin' plenty o' vit'als. Do jus' as +you please.' When I looked at my marster an' knowed he needed me, I +pleased to stay. My marster never forced me to do nary thing' bout it. +Didn' nobody make me work after de war, but dem Yankees sho' made my +daddy work. Dey put a pick in his han' stid[FN: instead] o' a gun. Dey +made' im dig a big ditch in front o' Vicksburg. He worked a heap harder +for his Uncle Sam dan he'd ever done for de marster. + +"I hear'd tell 'bout some Nigger sojers a-plunderin' some houses: Out at +Pine Ridge dey kilt a white man named Rogillio. But de head Yankee +sojers in Natchez tried 'em for somethin' or nother an' hung 'em on a +tree out near de Charity Horspital. Dey strung up de ones dat went to +Mr. Sargent's door one night an' shot him down, too. All dat hangin' +seemed to squelch a heap o' lousy goin's-on. + +"Lawd! Lawd! I knows 'bout de Kloo Kluxes. I knows a-plenty. Dey was +sho' 'nough devils a-walkin' de earth a-seekin' what dey could devour. +Dey larruped de hide of'n de uppity Niggers an' driv[FN: drove] de white +trash back where dey b'longed. + +"Us Niggers didn' have no secret meetin's. All us had was church +meetin's in arbors out in de woods. De preachers 'ud exhort us dat us +was de chillun o' Israel in de wilderness an' de Lawd done sont us to +take dis lan' o' milk an' honey. But how us gwine a-take lan' what's +already been took? + +"I sho' aint never hear'd' bout no plantations bein' 'vided up, neither. +I hear'd a lot o' yaller Niggers spoutin' off how dey was gwine a-take +over de white folks' lan' for back wages. Dem bucks jus' took all dey +wages out in talk. 'Cause I aint never seen no lan' 'vided up yet. + +"In dem days nobody but Niggers an' shawl-strop[FN: carpet baggers] +folks voted. Quality folks didn' have nothin' to do wid such truck. If +dey had a-wanted to de Yankees wouldn' a-let 'em. My old marster didn' +vote an' if anybody knowed what was what he did. Sense didn' count in +dem days. It was pow'ful ticklish times an' I let votin' alone. + +"De shawl-strop folks what come in to take over de country tol' us dat +us had a right to go to all de balls, church meetin's, an' 'tainments de +white folks give. But one night a bunch o' uppity Niggers went to a +'tainment in Memorial Hall. Dey dressed deysef's fit to kill an' walked +down de aisle an' took seats in de very front. But jus' 'bout time dey +got good set down, de curtain drapped[FN: dropped] an' de white folks +riz[FN: arose] up widout a-sayin' airy word. Dey marched out de buildin' +wid dey chins up an' lef' dem Niggers a-settin' in a empty hall. + +"Dat's de way it happen ever' time a Nigger tried to git too uppity. Dat +night after de breakin' up o' dat' tainment, de Kloo Kluxes rid[FN: +rode] th'ough de lan'. I hear'd dey grabbed ever' Nigger what walked +down dat aisle, but I aint hear'd yet what dey done wid 'em. + +"Dat same thing happened ever' time a Nigger tried to act lak he was +white. + +"A heap o' Niggers voted for a little while. Dey was a black man what +had office. He was named Lynch. He cut a big figger up in Washington. Us +had a sheriff named Winston. He was a ginger cake Nigger an' pow'ful +mean when he got riled. Sheriff Winston was a slave an', if my mem'ry +aint failed me, so was Lynch. + +"My granny tol' me 'bout a slave uprisin' what took place when I was a +little boy. None o' de marster's Niggers' ud have nothin' to do wid it. +A Nigger tried to git 'em to kill dey white folks an' take dey lan'. But +what us want to kill old Marster an' take de lan' when dey was de bes' +frien's us had? Dey caught de Nigger an' hung 'im to a limb. + +"Plenty folks b'lieved in charms, but I didn' take no stock in such +truck. But I don't lak for de moon to shine on me when I's a-sleepin'. + +"De young Niggers is headed straight for hell. All dey think' bout is +drinkin' hard likker, goin' to dance halls, an' a-ridin' in a old rattle +trap car. It beats all how dey brags an' wastes things. Dey aint one +whit happier dan folks was in my day. I was as proud to git a apple as +dey is to git a pint o' likker. Course, schools he'p some, but looks lak +all mos' o' de young'n's is studyin' 'bout is how to git out o' hones' +labor. + +"I'se seen a heap o' fools what thinks 'cause they is wise in books, +they is wise in all things. + +"Mos' all my white folks is gone, now. Marse Randolph Shields is a +doctor 'way off in China. I wish I could git word to' im, 'cause I know +he'd look after me if he knowed I was on charity. I prays de Lawd to see +'em all when I die." + + + + +Gabe Emanuel, Ex-slave, Claiborne County +FEC +Esther de Sola +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +GABE EMANUEL +Port Gibson, Mississippi + + +Gabe Emanuel is the blackest of Negroes. He is stooped and wobbly from +his eighty-five years and weighs about one hundred and thirty-five +pounds. His speech is somewhat hindered by an unbelievable amount of +tobacco rolled to one side of his mouth. He lives in the Negro quarters +of Port Gibson. Like most ex-slaves he has the courtesy and the +gentleness of a southern gentleman. + +"Lawsy! Dem slav'ry days done been s'long ago I jus' 'member a few +things dat happen den. But I's sho' mighty pleased to relate dat what I +recollec'. + +"I was de house boy on old judge Stamps' plantation. He lived 'bout nine +miles east o' Port Gibson an' he was a mighty well-to-do gent'man in dem +days. He owned 'bout 500 or 600 Niggers. He made plenty o' money out o' +his fiel's. Dem Niggers worked for dey keep. I 'clare, dey sho' did. + +"Us 'ud dike out in spick an' span clean clothes come Sund'ys. Ever'body +wore homespun clo'es den. De mistis an' de res' o' de ladies in de Big +House made mos' of 'em. De cullud wimmins wore some kin' o' dress wid +white aprons an' de mens wore overalls an' homespun pants an' shirts. +Course, all de time us gits han'-me-downs from de folks in de Big House. +Us what was a-servin' in de Big House wore de marster's old dress suits. +Now, dat was somep'n'! Mos' o' de time dey didn' fit--maybe de pants +hung a little loose an' de tails o' de coat hung a little long. Me bein' +de house boy, I used to look mighty sprucy when I put on my frock tail. + +"De mistis used to teach us de Bible on Sund'ys an' us always had Sund'y +school. Us what lived in de Big House an' even some o' de fiel' han's +was taught to read an' write by de white folks. + +"De fiel' han's sho' had a time wid dat man, Duncan. He was de overseer +man out at de plantation. Why, he'd have dem poor Niggers so dey didn' +know if dey was gwine in circles or what. + +"One day I was out in de quarters when he brung back old man Joe from +runnin' away. Old Joe was always a-runnin' away an' dat man Duncan put +his houn' dogs on 'im an' brung 'im back. Dis time I's speakin' 'bout +Marster Duncan put his han' on old Joe's shoulder an' look him in de eye +sorrowful-lak. 'Joe', he say, 'I's sho' pow'ful tired o' huntin' you. +I'spect I's gwina have to git de marster to sell you some'r's else. +Another marster gwina whup you in de groun' if he ketch you runnin' 'way +lak dis. I's sho sad for you if you gits sol' away. Us gwina miss you +'roun' dis plantation.' After dat old Joe stayed close in an' dey warnt +no more trouble out o' him. + +"Dat big white man called Duncan, he seen dat de Niggers b'have +deyse'ves right. Dey called him de 'Boss Man.' He always carried a big +whup an' when dem Niggers got sassy, dey got de whup 'crost dey hides. + +"Lawsy! I's recallin' de time when de big old houn' dog what fin' de +run-away Niggers done die wid fits. Dat man Duncan, he say us gwina hol' +fun'al rites over dat dog. He say us Niggers might better be's pow'ful +sad when us come to dat fun'al. An' dem Niggers was sad over de death o' +dat poor old dog what had chased 'em all over de country. Dey all stan' +'roun' a-weepin' an' a-mournin'. Ever' now an' den dey'd put water on +dey eyes an' play lak dey was a-weepin' bitter, bitter tears. 'Poor old +dog, she done died down dead an' can't kotch us no more. Poor old dog. +Amen! De Lawd have mercy!' + +"De Judge was a great han' for 'tainment[FN: entertainment]. He always +had a house full o' folks an' he sho' give 'em de bes' o' food an' +likker. Dey was a big room he kep' all polished up lak glass. Ever' now +an' den he'd th'ow a big party an' 'vite mos' ever'body in Mississippi +to come. Dey was fo' Niggers in de quarters what could sing to beat de +ban', an' de Judge would git 'em to sing for his party. + +"I 'member how 'cited I'd git when one o' dem shindigs 'ud come off. I +sho' would strut den. De mistis 'ud dress me up an' I'd carry de likker +an' drinks' roun' 'mongst de peoples. 'Would you prefer dis here mint +julip, Marster? Or maybe you'd relish dis here special wine o' de +Judge's. 'Dem white folks sho' could lap up dem drinks, too. De Judge +had de bes' o' ever'thing. + +"Dey was always a heap o' fresh meat in de meat house. De pantry fairly +bu'sted wid all kin' o' preserves an' sweetnin's. Lawdy! I mean to tell +you dem was de _good_ days. + +"I 'member I used to hate ever' Wednesday. Dat was de day I had to +polish de silver. Lawsy! It took me mos' all day. When I'd think I was +'bout th'ough de mistis was sho' to fin' some o' 'dat silver dat had to +be did over. + +"Den de war broke out. De marster went 'way wid de sojers an' gradual' +de hardness come to de plantation. + +"Us never knowed when dem Yankee sojers would come spen' a few weeks at +de Big House. Dey'd eat up all de marster's vit'als an' drink up all his +good likker. + +"I 'member one time de Yankees camped right in de front yard. Dey took +all de meat out'n de curin' house. Well sir! I done 'cide by myse'f dat +no Yankee gwina eat all us meat. So dat night I slips in dey camp; I +stole back dat meat from dem thievin' sojers an' hid it, good. Ho! Ho! +Ho! But dey never did fin' dat meat. + +"One time us sot fire to a bridge de Yankees had to cross to git to de +plantation. Dey had to camp on de other side, 'cause dey was too lazy to +put out de fire. Dat's jus' lak I figgered it. + +"When de war was over my mammy an' pappy an' us five chillun travelled +here to Port Gibson to live. My mammy hired out for washin'. I don't +know zackly what my pappy done. + +"Lincoln was de man dat sot us free. I don't recollec' much 'bout 'im +'ceptin' what I hear'd in de Big House 'bout Lincoln doin' dis an' +Lincoln doin' dat. + +"Lawdy! I sho' was happy when I was a slave. + +"De Niggers today is de same as dey always was, 'ceptin' dey's gittin' +more money to spen'. Dey aint got nobody to make' em' 'have deyse'ves +an' keep 'em out o' trouble, now. + +"I lives here in Port Gibson an' does mos' ever' kin' o' work. I tries +to live right by ever'body, but I 'spect I won't be here much longer. + +"I'se been married three times. + +"When de time comes to go I hopes to be ready. De Lawd God Almighty +takes good care o' his chillun if dey be's good an' holy." + + + + +Dora Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +DORA FRANKS +Aberdeen, Mississippi + + +Dora Franks, ex-slave, lives at Aberdeen, Monroe County. She is about +five feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. Her hair is inclined to be curly +rather than kinky. She is very active and does most of her own work. + +"I was born in Choctaw County, but I never knowed zackly how old I was, +'cause none o' my folks could read an' write. I reckon I be's 'bout a +hund'ed, 'cause I was a big girl long time fo' Surrender. I was old +'nough to marry two years after dat. + +"My mammy come from Virginny. Her name was Harriet Brewer. My daddy was +my young Marster. His name was Marster George Brewer an' my mammy always +tol' me dat I was his'n. I knew dat dere was some dif'ence 'tween me an' +de res' o' her chillun, 'cause dey was all coal black, an' I was even +lighter dan I is now. Lawd, it's bean to my sorrow many a time, 'cause +de chillun used to chase me 'round an' holler at me, 'Old yallow +Nigger.' Dey didn' treat me good, neither. + +"I stayed in de house mos' o' de time wid Miss Emmaline. Miss +Emmaline's hair was _dat_ white, den. I loved her' cause she was so good +to me. She taught me how to weave an' spin. 'Fore I was bigger'n a +minute I could do things dat lots o' de old han's couldn' come nigh +doin'. She an' Marse Bill had 'bout eight chillun, but mos' of 'em was +grown when I come 'long. Dey was all mighty good to me an' wouldn' 'low +nobody to hurt me. + +"I 'members one time when dey all went off an' lef' me wid a old black +woman call Aunt Ca'line what done de cookin' 'round de place some o' de +time. When dey lef' de house I went in de kitchen an' asked her for a +piece o' white bread lak de white folks eat. She haul off an' slap me +down an' call me all kin' o' names dat I didn' know what dey meant. My +nose bled an' ruint de nice clean dress I had on. When de Mistis come +back Marse George was wid 'er. She asked me what on earth happen to me +an' I tol' 'er. Dey call Ca'line in de room an' asked her if what I say +was de truf. She tell 'em it was, an' dey sent 'er away. I hear tell dat +dey whup her so hard dat she couldn' walk no mo'. + +"Us never had no big fun'als or weddin's on de place. Didn' have no +marryin' o' any kin'. Folks in dem days jus' sorter hitched up together +an' call deyse'ves man an' wife. All de cullud folks was buried on what +dey called Platnum Hill. Dey didn' have no markers nor nothin' at de +graves. Dey was jus' sunk in places. My brother Frank showed me once +where my mammy was buried. Us didn' have no preachin', or singin', or +nothin', neither. Us didn' even git to have meetin's on Sund'y less us +slip off an' go to some other plantation. Course, I got to go wid de +white folks sometime an' set in de back, or on de steps. Dat was whan I +was little. + +"Lots o' Niggers would slip off from one plantation to de other to see +some other Niggers. Dey would always manage to git back' fore daybreak. +De wors' thing I ever heard 'bout dat was once when my Uncle Alf run off +to 'jump de broom.' Dat was what dey called goin' to see a woman. He +didn' come back by daylight, so dey put de Nigger hounds after him. Dey +smelled his trail down in de swamp an' foun' where he was hidin'. + +"Now, he was one of da biggest Niggers on de place an' a powerful fas' +worker. But dey took an' give him 100 lashes wid de cat o' ninety-nine +tails. His back was somethin' awful, but dey put him in de fiel' to work +while de blood was still a-runnin'. He work right hard 'til dey lef'. +Den, when he got up to de end o' de row nex' to de swamp, he lit out +ag'in. + +"Dey never foun' 'im dat time. Dey say he foun' a cave an' fix him up a +room whar he could live. At nights he would come out on de place an' +steal enough t'eat an' cook it in his little dugout. When de war was +over an' de slaves was freed, he come out. When I saw him, he look lak a +hairy ape, 'thout no clothes on an' hair growin' all over his body. + +"Dem was pretty good days back in slav'ry times. My Marstar had a whole +passal o' Niggers on his place. When any of 'em would git sick dey would +go to de woods an' git herbs an roots an' make tea for 'em to drink. +Hogweed an' May apples was de bes' things I knowed of. Sometimes old +Mistis doctored 'em herse'f. One time a bunch o' us chillun was playin' +in de woods an foun' some o' dem May apples. Us et a lot of 'em an' got +awful sick. Dey dosed us up on grease an' Samson snake root to clean us +out. An' it sho' done a good job. I'se been a-usin' dat snake root ever +since. + +"De firs' thing dat I 'member hearin' 'bout de war was one day when +Marse George come in de house an' tell Miss Emmaline dat dey's gwine +have a bloody war. He say he feared all de slaves 'ud be took away. She +say if dat was true she feel lak jumpin' in de well. I hate to hear her +say dat, but from dat minute I started prayin' for freedom. All de res' +o' de women done de same. + +"De war started pretty soon after dat an' all de men folks went off an' +lef' de plantation for de women an' de Niggers to run. Us seen de sojers +pass by mos' ever' day. Once de Yankees come an' stole a lot o' de +horses an' somp'in' t'eat. Dey even took de trunk full o' 'Federate +money dat was hid in de swamp. How dey foun' dat us never knowed. + +"Marse George come home' bout two years after de war started an' married +Miss Martha Ann. Dey had always been sweethearts. Dey was promised 'fore +he lef'. + +"Marse Lincoln an' Marse Jeff Davis is two I 'members 'bout. But, +Lawzee! Dat was a long time back. Us liked Marse Jeff Davis de bes' on +de place. Us even made up a song 'bout him, but, I 'clare 'fore +goodness, I can't even 'member de firs' line o' dat song. You see, when +I got 'ligion, I asked de Lawd to take all de other songs out o' my +head an' make room for his word. + +"Since den it's de hardes' thing in de worl' for me to 'member de songs +us used to dance by. I do' member a few lak 'Shoo, Fly', 'Old Dan +Tucker', an' 'Run, Nigger, Run, de Pateroller Catch You.' I don' 'member +much o' de words. I does 'member a little o' 'Old Dan Tucker.' It went +dis way: + + 'Old Don Tucker was a mighty mean man, + He beat his wife wid a fryin' pan. + She hollered an' she cried, "I's gwineter go, + Dey's plenty o' men, won't beat me so." + + 'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, + You come too late to git yo' supper. + + 'Old Dan Tucker, he got drunk, + Fell in de fire, kicked up a chunk, + Red hot coal got down his shoe + Oh, Great Lawd, how de ashes flew. + + 'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, + You come too late to git yo' supper.' + +"When de war was over, my brother Frank slipped in de house where I was +still a-stayin'. He tol' me us was free an' for me to come out wid de +res'. 'Fore sundown dere warnt one Nigger lef' on de place. I hear tell +later dat de Mistis an' de gals had to git out an' work in de fiel's to +he'p gather in de crop. + +"Frank foun' us a place to work an' put us all in de fiel'. I never had +worked in de fiel' before. I'd faint away mos' ever'day 'bout eleven +o'clock. It was de heat. Some of 'em would have to tote me to de house. +I'd soon come to. Den I had to go back to de fiel'. Us was on Marse +Davis Cox's place den. + +"Two years later I met Pet Franks an' us married. De Cox's was good +folks an' give us a big weddin'. All de white folks an' de Niggers for +miles a-round come to see us git married. De Niggers had a big supper +an' had a peck t'eat. Us had eight chillun, but aint but three of 'em +livin'. Me an' Pet aint been a-livin' together for de las' twenty-three +years. Us jus' couldn' git 'long together, so us quit. He lives out at +Acker's Fishing Lodge now an' does de cookin' for 'em. + +"I never will forgit de Klu Klux Klan. Never will [TR: "I" deleted] +forgit de way dat horn soun' at night when dey was a-goin' after some +mean Nigger. Us'd all run an' hide. Us was livin' on de Troup place den, +near old Hamilton, in one o' de brick houses back o' de house whar dey +used to keep de slaves. Marse Alec Troup was one o' de Klu Klux's an' so +was Marse Thad Willis dat lived close by. Dey'd make plans together +sometime an' I'd hear 'em. One time dey caught me lis'nin', but dey +didn' do nothin' to me, 'cause dey knowed I warnt gwine tell. Us was all +good Niggers on his place. + +"Lawd, Miss, dese here young folks today is gwine straight to de Devil. +All dey do all day an' all night is run 'round an' drink corn likker +an' ride in automobiles. I'se got a grand-daughter here, an' she's dat +wil'. I worries a right smart 'bout her, but it don't do no good, 'cause +her mammy let her do jus' lak she please anyhow. + +"Den I tells you, de one thing I worries 'bout mos'. Dat is de white +folks what lives here 'mongst de Niggers. You know what kinda folks dey +is, an' it sho' is bad influence on 'em. You knows Niggers aint s'posed +to always know de right from de wrong. Dey aint got Marsters to teach +'em now. For de white folks to come down here an' do lak dey do, I tells +you, it aint right. De quality white folks ought-a do somethin' bout it. + +"I's had a right hard life, but I puts my faith in de Lawd an' I know +ever'thing gwine come out all right. I's lived a long life an' will soon +be a hund'ed, I guess. I's glad dat slav'ry is over, 'cause de Bible +don't say nothin' 'bout it bein right. I's a good Christian. I gits +sort-a res'less mos' o' de time an' has to keep busy to keep from +thinkin' too much." + + + + +Pet Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +PET FRANKS +Aberdeen, Mississippi + + +Uncle Pet, 92 year old ex-slave, is the favorite of Ackers' Fishing +Lodge which is situated 14 miles north of Aberdeen, Monroe County. He is +low and stockily built. His ancestry is pure African. Scarcely topping +five feet one inch, he weighs about 150 pounds. Though he walks with the +slightest limp, he is still very active and thinks nothing of cooking +for the large groups who frequent the lodge. He has his own little +garden and chickens which he tends with great care. + +"I knows all 'bout slav'ry an' de war. I was right dere on de spot when +it all happened. I wish to goodness I was back dere now, not in de war, +but in de slav'ry times. Niggers where I lived didn' have nothin' to +worry 'bout in dem days. Dey aint got no sense now-a-days. All dey +b'lieves in now is drinkin' an' carousin'. Dey aint got no use for +nothin' but a little corn likker an' a fight. I dont b'lieve in no such +gwine-on, no sir-ree. Dat's de reason I stays out here by myse'f all de +time. I don't want to have nothin' to do wid 'em. I goes to town 'bout +once a mont' to git s'pplies, but I don' never fool 'roun' wid dem +Niggers den. I gits 'long wid my white folks, too. All da mens an' +wimmens what comes out to de club is pow'ful good to me. + +"I was born up near Bartley's Ferry right on de river. De way I +cal'clates my age makes me 'bout 92 years old. My firs' Marster was name +Mr. Harry Allen. He died when I was a boy an' I don't 'member much 'bout +him. De Mistis, dat was his wife, married ag'in an' dat husband's name +was Marse Jimmy Tatum. Dey was sho' good white folks. My mammy an' pappy +was name Martha an' Martin Franks. Marse Harry brung 'em down from +Virginny, I thinks. Or else he bought 'em from Marse Tom Franks in West +Point. Anyways dey come from Virginny an' I don't know which one of 'em +brought 'em down here. Dey did b'long to Marse Tom. I knows dat. + +"Bartley's used to be some place. My folks had a big hotel down on de +river bank. Dey was a heap of stores right on de bank, too. De river +done wash' em all 'way now. Dey aint nothin' lef'. But Lawdy! When I was +a kid de boats used to come a-sailin' up de river 'bout once a week an' +I used to know de names o' all de big ones. Dey would stop an' pick up a +load o' cotton to carry to Mobile. When dey come back dey would be +loaded wid all kin' o' gran' things. + +"Us chillun had a big time playin' roun' de dock. Us played 'Hide de +Switch' an' 'Goose and Gander' in de day time. Den at nighttime when de +moon was shinin' big an' yaller, us'd play 'Ole Molly Bright.' Dat was +what us call de moon. Us'd make up stories 'bout her. Dat was de bes' +time o' all. Sometimes de old folks would join in an' tell tales too. +Been so long I forgits de tales, but I know dey was good'ns. + +"When I got big 'nough to work I he'ped 'roun' de lot mostly. Fac' is +I'se worked right 'roun' white folks mos' all my days. I did work in de +fiel' some, but us had a good overseer. His name was Marse Frank Beeks +an' he was good as any white man dat ever lived. I don't never 'member +him whippin' one o' de slaves, leastways not real whippin's. I do +'member hearin' 'bout slaves on other places gittin' whipped sometimes. +I guess Niggers lak dat wished dey was free, but I didn' want to leave +my white folks, ever. + +"Us had preachin' an' singin'. Dey was some mighty good meetin's on de +place. Old Daddy Young was 'bout de bes' preacher us ever had. Dey was +plenty o' Niggers dere, 'cause it was a powerful big place. Old Daddy +could sho' make 'em shout an' roll. Us have to hol' some of 'em dey'd +git so happy. I knowed I had 'ligion when I got baptized. Dey took me +out in de river an' it took two of 'em to put me under. When I come up I +tol' 'em, 'turn me loose, I b'lieve I can walk right on top o' de +water.' Dey don' have no 'ligion lak dat now-a-days. + +"All de Niggers on de Tatum place had dey own patches where dey could +plant what ever day wanted to. Dey'd work 'em on Satu'd'ys. When dey +sol' anything from dey patch Mistis 'ud let 'em keep de money. When de +boats went down to Mobile us could sen' down for anything us want to +buy. One time I had $10.00 saved up an' I bought lots o' pretties wid +it. Us always had plenty t'eat, too. All de greens, eggs, wheat, corn, +meat, an' chitlins dat anybody'd want. When hog killin' time come us +always have some meat lef' over from de year befo'. Us made soap out of +dat. + +"When da war broke out I went right wid de Marster up to Corinth. I +stayed up dere in de camp for de longes' time a-waitin' on de sojers an' +nussing de sick ones. I never seen much o' de real fightin'. But I heard +de cannons roar an' I waited on de sojers what got wounded. + +"After dey moved camp de Marster sont me back home to he'p look after de +Mistis an' chillun. De 'Federates had some cattle hid 'way in us pasture +an' I looked after 'em. One night when I was comin' home I met 'bout a +hund'ed Yankees comin' over a hill. Dey saw de cattle an' took 'bout +ha'f of 'em. I skidooed. Dey aint kotched me yet. + +"After de war de Yankees called deyse'ves 'Publicans. Dey come down here +an' wanted all de Niggers to vote de 'Publican ticket. Den, lemme tell +you, I went to work for my white folks. Dey was a-holdin' big meetin's +an' speakin's, but I was workin', too. On 'lection day I brung in 1500 +Niggers to vote de Democrat ticket. De folks what saw us comin' over de +hill say us look like a big black cloud. I reckon us sounded lak one wid +all dat hollerin' an' shoutin'. + +"All my folks was dead soon, an' I went 'bout lak I was in a trance for +awhile. I went firs' one place an' den 'nother. + +"When I was on de Cox place I met Dora an' us married. Dat was a big +weddin' an' a big feas'. Den us moved over to de Troup place an' stayed +dere for a long spell. While us was dere I 'member de Klu Kluxers an' +all de carryin' on. Dey would dress up in white sheets an' come 'roun' +an' scare all de Niggers. Dey'd whip de bad ones. Some of 'em would git +cow horns an' put on dey heads. One time dey chased a Nigger plumb under +de house jus' a-playin' wid 'im. Dey was a-bellowin' jus' lak bulls. + +"I can't read an' write. I aint got much use for a Nigger wid a little +education. I went to school twict. De firs' teacher I had, dey come an' +carried to de pen for signin' his old Marster's name. De nex' teacher, +dey put in jail for stealin'. So I jus' 'cided twas jus' better for me +not to know how to read'n write, less'n I might git in some kinda +trouble, too. + +"Dora an' me is got three out o' eight chillun livin'. Dora an' me don' +live together no more. She likes to stay in town an' I aint got no +patience wid city slickers an' dey ways. She stays wid us gal, Nanny. I +stays out here. I goes in to see her 'bout once a mont'. + +"I don't git lonesome. Lawdee, no'm! I's got my two dogs. Den de white +folks is always a-comin' out here. Dey is good to me. Dey is one right +pert Nigger woman what lives down de road a-piece. Her name is Katie, +an' I goes down dere when I gits tired o' eatin' my own cookin'. She +sets a plumb good table, too." + + + + +NETTIE HENRY +Meridian, Mississippi + + +Nettie Henry, ex-slave, 19th Street, Meridian, Lauderdale County, is 82 +years old. She is five feet tall and weighs one hundred pounds. + +"De Chil's place was at Livingston, Alabama, on Alamucha Creek. Dat's +where I was born, but I jus' did git borned good when Miss Lizzie--she +was Marse Chil's girl--married Marse John C. Higgins an' moved to +Mer-ree-dian. Me an' my mammy an' my two sisters, Liza an' Tempe, was +give to Miss Lizzie. + +"I aint no country Nigger; I was raised in town. My mammy cooked an' +washed an' ironed an' done ever'thing for Miss Lizzie. She live right +where Miss Annie--she was Miss Lizzie's daughter--live now. But den de +house face Eighth Street 'stead o' Seventh Street, lak it do now. Day +warnt any other houses in dat block. 'Fore de Surrender, dey turnt de +house to face Seventh Street 'cause de town was growin' an' a heap o' +folks was buildin' houses. I tell you somp'in' 'bout Seventh Street in a +minute. Couldn' nobody dat lived in Mer-ree-dian right after de +Surrender ever forgit Seventh Street an' where it head to. + +"My pappy didn' go wid us to Mer-ree-dian. He b'longed to one set o' +white people, you see, an' my mammy b'longed to another. He'd come to +see us till de War started, den his folks jus' kinda went to Texas. I +don' know why zackly 'cep' maybe it warnt so healthy for 'em 'roun' +Livingston. Dey didn' go to de War or nothin'. I 'spec' nice white folks +talked 'bout 'em an' wouldn' have nothin' to do wid 'em. So dey took an' +went to Texas an' took my pappy wid 'em. But after de War he come back +to us, walked mos' all de way frum Texas. He rented some lan' frum Mr. +Ragsdale. My pappy built us a shack on dat lan'. It's tore down now, but +it was built good. Us all he'ped. I pulled a cross-cut saw an' toted de +boards up on de roof on a ladder. De chimley was built out o' mud an' +rocks. Den us moved in an' started growin' us somp'in t'eat. Us didn' +have no horse an' plow; Yankees done carried off all de horses an' mules +an' burnt up ever'dthing lak plows. Us dug up de groun' wide a grubbin' +hoe an' raised pun-kins an' plenty o' chickens an' ever'thing. + +"Us lived nice. My people was smart. My white people was good white +people. Dey warnt brutish; never whupped us or nothin' lak dat. I don' +know nothin' 'bout no meanness. + +"Mr. Higgins he died pretty soon an' Miss Lizzie went to teachin' +school. Her chillun--Miss Annie an' dem--would try to teach us. Den us +carried Blue Back Spellers to Sund'y school an' a old Baptist cullud +preacher would teach us out o' it. He say, 'de same words is in dis book +what's in de Bible. You chillun learn 'em de way dey is fixed for you to +learn 'em in dis here Blue Back Speller, den de firs' thing you know you +can read de Bible.' Use went to de white folk's church endurin' o' de +War an' right after. Any o' de white folks can tell you 'bout Mr. +Preacher Hamlin. He was a preacher an' a school teacher mixed. He had de +firs' boardin' school for young white ladies. It's standin' right dare +on Eighth [HW: No 7] Street right now. I 'members de firs' one to +gragurate[FN: graduate] frum it. Well, Mr. Hamlin 'nitiated my pappy +right dare in de white folks's church, de Firs' Baptis' Church; it burnt +up long time ago. My pappy was Isam Allbrook. He was de firs' cullud +deacon ordained in Mer-ree-dian. + +"I was ten years old at de Surrender, but I took notice. Dem was scarey +times an' when you is scared you takes trigger-notice. It was nex' to de +las' year o' de War 'fore Sherman got to Mer-ree-dian--not Sherman +hisse'f but his sojers. Dey burnt up dat big house on Eighth Street hill +an' built camps for de sojers in de flower garden. De cap'ns went an' +live at Marse Greer's house. Marse Greer had done sunk all de silver in +de duck pond an' hid out de horses an' cows in de big cane-brake what +used to be on dis side o' Sowashee Creek. But, Lor!, it didn' do no +good. Sherman done caught on by dat time 'bout how to fin' things. Dey +got ever'thing an' burned Marse Greer's barn. Day lef' de house an' +didn' bother de fam'ly 'cause dey called deyse'fs company. De good Lord +knows Marse Greer didn' 'vite 'em! But de Cap'ns bein' dere kep' de +rip-rap[FN: riff-raff] sojers frum tearin' up ever'thing. + +"When word come dat dey was comin', it soun' lak a moanin' win' in de +quarter. Ever'body was a-sayin', 'De Yankees is comin'! De Yankees is +comin'!' Us chullun was scared, but it was lak Sund'y, too,--nobody +doin' nothin'. Us march' 'roun' de room an' sorter sing-lak, 'De Yankees +is comin'! De Yankees is comin'!' Dey wouldn' let us out in de big road. +Well, dey come. Dey burn up seventy houses an' all de stores. Dey tore +up de railroad tracks an' toted off ever'thing dey couldn' eat. I don' +un'erstan' nothin' 'bout how come dey act lak dat. Us aint done nothin' +to 'em. + +"Well things kep' gittin' worse an' worse. After de Surrender Niggers +got mighty biggity. Mos' of 'em was glad jus' to feel free. Dey didn' +have no better sense. Dey forgot wouldn' be nobody to take care of 'em. +Things warnt healthy an' my mammy an' me kep' close to de white folks. +'Course, Tempe she was grown an' could do what she please. She sho' done +somp'in' when she married Cal. Dat was de meanes' Nigger! He nail up a +board over de gate pos' what say, 'No visitors allowed'. Sho' 'nough +didn' no visitors want to go to his house! + +"I don' know how come things got so unnatchel after de Surrender. +Niggers got to bein all kin' o' things what de Lawd didn' inten' 'em +for, lak bein' policemen an' all lak dat. It was scan'lous! 'Course, it +was de Yankees what done it. Dey promise to give ever'body forty acres +o' lan' an' a mule. A lot of 'em didn' have no better sense dan to +believe 'em. Dey'd go 'head an' do what de Yankees 'ud tell 'em. Well, +dey didn' give' em nothin', not even a rooster. Didn' give 'em _nothin'_ +but trouble. + +"I don' know how come Mr. Theodore Sturges' brother was a Yankee. But +after de Surrender he come to Mer-ree-dian an' got to be Mayor. Didn' +none o' de white folks lak dat. Mr. Theodore didn' lak it hisse'f, but +nothin' he could do 'bout it. Things got so bad de Kloo-Kluxes[FN: Klu +Klux] started ridin' at night an' sposin'[FN: disposing] o' bad Niggers. +Den one Satu'd'y night Mr. Theodore's big sto' got set fiah to an' de +Mayor he tried to blame it on de Kloo-Kluxes. 'Course ever'body knowed +de Yankees done it. You see de Yankees was a-tryin' to git de Gov'nor to +run de Kloo-Kluxes out. Dat was one awful fiah. Near 'bout de whole town +burnt up down town an' ever' nice white man was down dare a-fightin' de +fiah. + +"Plenty o' Niggers was out, too, doin' devlishment. Three of 'em got +'rested an' dey had de trial Monday. In de meantime, all de +Yankee-lovin' Niggers had a big meetin' an' de loudes' mouf dere was dat +big buck Nigger Bill. He all time call hisse'f Dennis when he don' call +hisse'f Clopton. Here dey goes, all het up frum makin' speeches an' +a-drinkin', an' packs de courtroom full. When Mr. Patton got up on de +stan' an' say, he sho' done hear Bill Dennis say somp'in', Bill he +holler out, 'Dat's a lie!' Only he say a bad word dat I wouldn' say. Den +Mr. Patton raise up his walkin' stick an' start toward Bill. 'Bout den +Bill jerk out his pistol an' shoot at Mr. Patton. He miss Mr. Patton an' +hit Judge Bramlette. Yes'm, kilt him corpse-dead right dere on his high +pulpit chair! + +"'Bout dat time ever'thing bus' loose. Near 'bout all de white gent'mun +in de court room take a shot at Bill. He falls, but he aint dead yet. +Dey put him in de sheriff's office an' lef two white men wid him. But +things was a-happenin' so fas' by dat time dey couldn' stan' it. Dey +th'owed Bill out of dat two-story window an' run down to git in de +fight. De white folks was plumb wo' out by dat time wid all de +devilishment o' de Yankees an' de fool Niggers. Even a mean Nigger got +sense 'nough to know when he done gone too far. Dey all git away as fas' +as dey could an' scatter over town, den after dark dey come a-creepin' +back to de quarters. Dat was sho' de wronges' thing to do. Dat night, +all de sho' 'nough white men came a-marchin' out Seventh Street on dey +way to de quarters. + +"I had did up Miss Lizzie's parlor curtains dat very day an' de boy was +puttin' up de mouldin' frame 'roun' 'em when us hear dat trompin' soun'. +It didn' soun' lak no ever'day marchin'. It soun' lak Judgement Day. De +boy fell off de ladder an' run an' hid b'hind de flour barrel in de +pantry. Miss Lizzie was peepin' out 'twixt dem white lace curtains an' I +was right b'hin' 'er. I 'spec' Seventh Street was lined wid wimmin-folks +doin' jus' what us doin', 'cause dey husban's, sons, an' sweethearts was +out dere in dat march-line. + +"Well, dat night ended all de troubles. De line done stop at Mr. +Theodore Sturges' house' fore it git out far as us. 'Course, ever'body +know Mr. Theodore an' Miss Allie was sho' 'nough folks, but dey was +bound to have dat Yankee brother o' his'n. + +"De yard was plumb full o' white men ready to burn de house right down +on Miss Allie's head lessen dey'd give up dat Yankee Mayor. Mr. Theodore +come to de door an' say, 'Gent'mun, he aint here.' Aint nobody believe +dat. Dey was a-fixin' to bus' on in anyhow, when Miss Allie come out. +She come right down dem steps 'mongst all dem mad folks an' say, calm +an' lady-lak, 'Gent'mun, my brother-in-law is here, cert'ny. Where would +he go for safety 'cepn to his brother's house? But I give you my word +dat he gwine stay right here 'till you put him on de firs' train headin' +nawth. Den no mo' blood will be spilled.' An' dat's what dey done. + +"Yes'm it was all mighty bad, but plenty good things done happen in +Mer-ree-dian, too. I'se seen dis town grow frum nothin'. When us come +here 'fore de War, dey was hitchin' dey horses to little oak bushes +right in de middle o' town where de bigges' stores is now. I was a grown +girl by den an' could make horsemint tea for chills an' mullen leaves +for fever good as anybody; an' horehound tea for colds, bitter as gall. +I jus' now caught up how to cook an' sew. + +"I married when I was nineteen years old. I had nine chillun an' five of +'em's still livin'. Dey looks after me right nice, too. My son in +Chicago gimme dis house an' I lives here by myse'f. I keeps it nice an' +clean jus' lak I learnt how to do frum de white folks where I used to +work. I aint never work for no common folks. I tries to live lak a +Christian an' do jus' lak Old Mistis say. Den when I die I can go to +Heaven." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies +Smith Hodges, Ex-Slave, Pike County +FEC +Mrs. W.F. Holmes + +[FANNY SMITH HODGES +Berglundtown, Mississippi] + + +Fanny Smith Hodges lives in Berglundtown, in the northern part of town, +in the only Negro settlement within the corporate limits of McComb. + +"My name's Fanny Hodges. I was Fanny Smith befo' I was mar'ied. My mammy +was Jane Weathersby, an' she b'long ter old man Weathersby in Amite +County. He was de meanes' man what ever lived. My pappy was sol' befo' I +was born. I doan know nothin' 'bout him. I had one sister--her name was +Clara--and one brudder--his name was Jack. Dey said my pappy's name was +George. I doan know. + +"Mammy said when I was jes big 'nough to nuss an' wash leetle chulluns, +I was sol' to Marse Hiram Cassedy an' dat man give me ter his darter, +Miss Mary, to be her maid. De Cassedys sho' was good people. I was big +'nough to draw water, an' put it in a tub an' wash Miss Mary, Miss +Annie, an' Miss July. I had to keep 'em clean. I had to comb dey hair +an' dey would holler an' say I pulled. I was tol' not to let anything +hurt dem chulluns. + +"I slep' in de Quarters wid de other niggers. Befo' sunup I had to git +to de Big House ter dress dem chulluns. I doan' member whut kind of bed +I had, but reckin' it was good. I et in de kitchen. Dey fed fine. I et +whut de white folks lef', an' sometimes dey had 'possum an' taters. Dey +was good. + +"Marse Cassedy was a big Judge. He went to all de cou'ts, an' rode in a +fine carri'ge with two big horses hitched ter it, an' a driver. He wore +fine clo'es an' ever'body said he was a mighty big man. He had lots an' +lots of money. I doan know how many acres in his plantation, but he had +more'n 50 slaves. + +"When Marse Cassedy was gone, his oberseer would be hard on de slaves, +but Marse Cassedy would tell him not to be too hard. He never 'lowed his +driver to draw de blood when dey whupped. He fed his slaves. Dey all had +gardens and he tuk care of us. He had money in every one of us. De +oberseers was white men workin' fer wages. + +"I was never whupped afte' I went to Marse Cassedy. Slaves was whupped +when dey wouldn't work right. Sometimes dey was lazy. De oberseer blowed +a horn every mornin' and de slaves knowed to git up, an' when dat horn +blowed agin, dey knowed dey must go to de fiel'. Dey blowed de horn at +dinner an' night. Afte' supper, we set 'bout an' sing an go places. +Sometimes de men would steal off an' go ter other plantations, an' when +kotched dey got a whuppin'. If de pataroller got em, dey sho' kotched +it. Dey was whupped an' brung back. + +"De white folks had big dances in de Big House and de niggers played de +fiddle. Dey was fine times. Dey had good things ter eat, an' I allus got +some of whut was lef'. Christmas time de slaves had dances. I could sho' +shuffle my feet. Shucks, folks doan dance like dat any more. + +"When slaves was sick, dey went to de woods and got roots an' herbs ter +doctor 'em wid. If dey had runnin' off of de bowels, dey got red oak +barks an' boiled it an' made 'em drink it. It's de best thing right now +to cure runnin' off of de bowels. If young gals had pains in dey +stomachs dey made tea out'n gum bark and dat would bring 'em 'round. +When babies was born, dey had good midwives to wait on 'em. Dat was good +money. + +"When Miss July got mar'ied dey had two cooks in de kitchen makin' +pound cake fer more'n a week, an' pies, an' chicken pie, an' dey killed +a hog. Dey had ever'body in de country savin' butter an' eggs fer a long +time. I didn' see de weddin' but de yard was full and we had ever'thing +to eat. + +"My folks was rich. Marse Cassedy went to de War an' he was a big man +dere. He was gone a long time. Dey kep' tellin' us de Yankees was comin' +and Miss Fanny had her silver put in a bag and hid. Dey had de money put +in a wash pot and buried, an' dey ain't found dat money yet. Oh, dey had +_more_ money! Didn' I tell you dey was rich? No mam, dey wasn't po' when +war was over. Dey had ever'thing. When de Yankees come, dey carried off +all de meat in de smokehouse, an' de blanket an' quilts, an' every thing +dey wanted, dey he'ped deyse'ves. None of de slaves went wid' em. + +"When Marse Cassedy come home he had de oberseer blow de horn 'bout ten +o'clock and tol' 'em all dey was freed. He said he'd work 'em fer wages, +an' nearly everyone of 'em stayed fer wages. I stayed wid Miss Mary +'bout ten years. Den I mar'ied. No, Jake an' me rid horse back an' went +to Magnolia an' got mar'ied. I doan know who mar'ied us--somebody in de +cou't house. + +"Me an' Jake went to Summit ter live'. We had to work mighty hard. +Sometimes I plowed in de fiel' all day; sometimes I washed an' den I +cooked, an' afte' 'while, we moved down to de new town. I come here when +dis town fust started. I cooked fer Mrs. Badenhauser, while he was +mayor of de town. Dey worked me hard. Me'n Jake's had some hard ups an' +downs. I had fo' chullun, none of dem livin' dat I know of. I might have +some grandchulluns but if I do, dey live up North. + +"I'm old an' can hardly git about. I'se got a cancer. De doctor done cut +my lef' brest clear offen me, but dat hurts me somtimes yit. + +"I niver jined any church 'til 'bout 20 year ago, right here in +Berglundtown. My church is Flowery Mount Baptist Church, an' my Brudder +Washin'ton is my pastor, an' he is de best preacher what ever lived. No, +Marse Cassedy didn't have no church fer de slaves. Dey went to de white +folks' church. + +"How do I live? Well I gits a pension of fo' dollars a month, an' I try +to wash a leetle fer de colored folks, an' den I beg. I can't stay here +long but God won't low me to starve. Bless God, he's comin' fer me some +day." + + + + +Wayne Holliday, Ex-slave Monroe County +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb + +[WAYNE HOLLIDAY +Aberdeen, Mississippi] + + +"I was born an' raised in Aberdeen an' I'se been a railroad nigger fo' +mos' of my days. I'se retired now 'cause dey say I too old to work any +longer, but shucks, I ain't half dead yet. I was born in 1853 right here +close to whar I live now. My folks b'longed to de Hollidays--you know de +grand folks of Miss Maria Evans? An' we stayed right dere in de lot whar +de white folks lived. + +"My pa an' my ma was named Frank an' Sarah Holliday an' de Cunel brung +dem wid him frum North Car'lina. Dey was lot niggers an' never worked in +de fiel' or lived in de Quarters. My pa was one of de best carpenters in +de country. I was too young to work much but sometime I he'ped him +'roun' de house but mos' of de time, I jes played wid my brudders an' +sisters an' de white chullun what lived aroun'. We played marbles, +ridin' de stick hoss, an' play house jes lak de chullun do now days, but +I think we had mo' fun. Dey was fo'teen of us in our family an' we allus +had somebody to play wid. An' den li'l Marse Ben, he wa'nt much older +dan us. + +"Our marster's name was Cunel John Holiday. He got dat title in a war +before de slav'ry war. He was too old to fight in dat one, or I spect +he'd got another title, lak Gen'ral or somethin'. He an' Miss Julia--dat +was his wife--was mighty good to us an' so was Marse Tom and Marse Ben, +an' Miss Maria an' all. When de Cunel fust come to Mississippi he bought +a plantation in de prairies an' lived dere for a while. But later he +'cided to build him a house in town so he got my pa to he'p him build it +an' it was one of de purtiest houses in Aberdeen. It look jes lak it +allus did to me now. Co'se dey is worked on it several times since den, +but dey ain't changed it at all. + +"My mammy did de cookin' for de white folks dere. Dey all thought a lot +of her. I never knowed much what slav'ry was 'bout, to tell de truf. De +folks never treated us wrong an' chullun in dem days didn' get to run +aroun' lak dey do today an' we didn' get to hear no gossip 'bout de +other niggers. Since we didn' live in no quarters we didn' hear nothin. +Our folks never said nothin' 'cause dey was very well satisfied lak dey +was. We never hear of no whuppin's, or runaways either, 'til afte' de +War an' when we got older. + +"I 'member de War tho'. Marse Tom, he went fust, wid de Van Dorns. He +was made a capt'in or somethin' 'cause he was so brave. He fought long +wid de fust an' was one of de fust to get hit. Dey brung his body all de +way from Richmond, or Virginny, I fergit which, and lawzy, if de Cunel +an' de Miss didn' take on somethin' awful. Dey sho' loved dat boy an' +so did all of de niggers. Afte' dey buried him dey took his sword an' +hung it on de wall of de parlor. I reckin it still dar. + +"Marse Ben went afte' dat. He was jes old 'nough to go but he went an' +fought jes de same. He come back when de war was over an' dey was sho' +some rejoicin'. + +"Time wa'nt much diffrunt den dan it was 'fo de War. We stayed on wid +our folks for a long time. Den my pa started gettin' a li'l work here +an' dar an' purty soon he got all his chullun started out purty well. We +all went to de colored school what dey had down whar de railroad +crossin' is now, an' dat was whar I l'arned to read an' write. I didn' +marry for a good while an' den I went to work on de I.C. Railroad. I was +fust a coal heaver an' den a coach porter. I was faithful to my job an' +made good money an' soon built me a house of my own whar I raised my +family. I sent all my chullun to school an' dey is doin' well. My wife +worked right 'long wid me. She died 'bout two years ago. + +"I'se thankful I ain't got no sad mem'ries 'bout slav'ry times an' dat I +an' my folks is done as well as dey have. T'is de work of de Lawd." + +Wayne Holliday, who lived in slavery times, and whose father was a +slave, is 84 years old, a dried-up looking Negro of light tan color, +approximately 5 feet three inches high and weighing about 130 pounds, he +is most active and appears much younger than he really is. He is +slightly bent; his kinky hair is intermingled white and gray; and his +broad mouth boasts only one visible tooth, a particularly large one in +the extreme center of his lower gum. + +Wayne has the manner of a Negro of the old South and depicts, in his +small way, the gallantry of an age gone by. + + + + +Prince Johnson, Ex-slave, Coahoma County +FEC +Mrs. Carrie Campbell +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +PRINCE JOHNSON +Clarksdale, Mississippi + + +"Yes mam, I sho' can tell you all 'bout it 'cause I was dere when it all +happened. My gran'pa, Peter, gran'ma, Millie, my pa, John, an' my ma, +Frances, all come from Alabama to Yazoo County to live in de Love +fam'ly. Dey names was Dennis when day come, but, after de custom o' dem +days, dey took de name of Love from dey new owner. Me an' all o' my +brothers an' sisters was born right dere. Dey was eleven head o' us. I +was de oldes'. Den come Harry, John, William, Henry, Phillis, Polly, +Nellie, Virginny, Millie, an' de baby, Ella. + +"Us all lived in de quarters an' de beds was home made. Dey had wooden +legs wid canvas stretched 'crost 'em. I can't 'member so much 'bout de +quarters 'cause 'bout dat time de young miss married Colonel Johnson an' +moved to dis place in Carroll County. She carried wid her over one +hund'ed head o' darkies. + +"Den us names was changed from Love to Johnson. My new marster was sure +a fine gent'man. He lived in a big two-story white house dat had big +white posts in front. De flowers all' roun' it jus' set it off. + +"Marster took me for de house boy. Den I sho' carried my head high. +He'd say to me, 'Prince does you know who you is named for?' An' I'd say +to him, 'Yes sir. Prince Albert.' An' den he'd say to me, 'Well, always +carry yo'se'f lak he did.' To dis good day I holds myse'f lak Marster +said. + +"On certain days o' de week one o' de old men on de place took us house +servants to de fiel' to learn us to work. Us was brought up to know how +to do anything dat come to han'. Marster would let us work at odd times +for outsiders an' us could use de money for anything us pleased. My +gran'ma sol' 'nough corn to buy her two feather beds. + +"Us always had plenty t'eat. De old folks done de cookin' for all de +fiel' han's, 'cept on Sund'y when ever' fam'ly cooked for dey ownse'fs. +Old Mis' 'ud come over ever' Sund'y mornin' wid sugar an' white flour. +Us 'ud mos' ingen'ally have fish, rabbits, 'possums, or coons. Lord, +chil'! Dem 'possums was good eatin'. I can tas' 'em now. + +"Folks dese days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin'. My marster had a +great big garden for ever'body an' I aint never seen such 'taters as +growed in dat garden. Dey was so sweet de sugar 'ud bus' right th'ough +de peelin' when you roasted 'em in de ashes. + +"Old Aunt Emily cooked for all de chillun on de place. Ha'f a hour by de +sun, dey was all called in to supper. Dey had pot likker an' ash cake +an' such things as would make 'em grow. + +"Chillun den didn' know nothin' 'bout all de fancy ailments what chillun +have now. Dey run an' played all day in dey shirt tails in de summer +time. When winter come dey had good warm clo'es[FN: clothes] same as us +older ones. + +"One day Marster's chillun an' de cullud chillun slipped off to de +orchard. Dey was jus' a-eatin' green apples fas' as dey could when 'long +come de master, hisse'f. He lined 'em all up, black an' white alike, an' +cut a keen switch. Twant a one in dat line dat didn' git a few licks. +Den he called de old doctor woman an' made 'er give 'em ever' one a dose +o' medicine. Dey didn' a one of' em git sick. + +"Marster an' Old Mis' had five chillun. Dey is all dead an' gone now, +an' I's still here. One o' his sons was a Supreme Judge 'fore he died. + +"My folks was sho' quality. Marster bought all de little places 'roun' +us so he wouldn' have no po' white trash neighbors. Yes sir! He owned +'bout thirty-five hund'ed acres an' at leas' a hund'ed an' fifty slaves. + +"Ever' mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock us could hear dat horn blow for us to +git up an' go to de fiel'. Us always quit work 'fore de sun went down +an' never worked at night. De overseer was a white man. His name was +Josh Neighbors, but de driver was a cullud man, 'Old Man Henry.' He +wasn't 'lowed to mistreat noboby. If he got too uppity dey'd call his +han', right now. De rule was, if a Nigger wouldn' work he mus' be sol'. +'Nother rule on dat place was dat if a man got dissati'fied, he was to +go to de marster an' ask him to put 'im in his pocket.' Dat meant he +wanted to be sol' an' de money he brought put in de marster's pocket. I +aint never known o' but two askin' to be 'put in de pocket.' Both of +'em was sol'. + +"Dey had jails in dem days, but dey was built for white folks. No cullud +person was ever put in one of 'em 'til after de war. Us didn' know +nothin' 'bout dem things. + +"Course, Old Mis' knowed 'bout 'em, 'cause she knowed ever'thing. I +recollec' she tol' me one day dat she had learnin' in five diffe'ent +languages. + +"None o' us didn' have no learnin' atall. Dat is us didn' have no book +learnin'. Twant no teachers or anything lak dat, but us sho' was taught +to be Christians. Ever'thing on dat place was a blue stockin' +Presbyterian. When Sund'y come us dressed all clean an' nice an' went to +church. Us went to de white folks' church an' set in de gal'ry. + +"Us had a fine preacher. His name was Gober. He could sho' give out de +words o' wisdom. Us didn' have big baptisins lak was had on a heap o' +places, 'cause Presbyterians don't go down under de water lak de Baptis' +do. If one o' de slaves died he was sho' give a gran' Christian fun'al. +All o' us mourners was on han'. Services was conducted by de white +preacher. + +"Old Mis' wouldn' stan' for no such things as voodoo an' ha'nts. When +she 'spected[FN: inspected] us once a week, you better not have no charm +'roun' yo' neck, neither. She wouldn' even 'low[FN: allow] us wear a bag +o' asfittidy[FN: asafetida]. Mos' folks b'lieved dat would keep off +sickness. She called such as dat superstition. She say us was 'lightened +Christian Presbyterians, an' as such us mus' conduc' ourse'fs. + +"Nobody worked after dinner on Satu'd'y. Us took dat time to scrub up +an' clean de houses so as to be ready for 'spection Sund'y mornin'. Some +Satu'd'y nights us had dances. De same old fiddler played for us dat +played for de white folks. An' he sho' could play. When he got dat old +fiddle out you couldn' keep yo' foots still. + +"Christ'mus was de time o' all times on dat old plantation. Dey don't +have no such as dat now. Ever' chil' brought a stockin' up to de Big +House to be filled. Dey all wanted one o' de mistis' stockin's, 'cause +now she weighed nigh on to three hund'ed pounds. Candy an' presents was +put in piles for ever' one. When dey names was called dey walked up an' +got it. Us didn' work on New Year's Day. Us could go to town or anywhere +us wanted to. + +"De mos' fun was de corn shuckin'. Dey was two captains an' each one +picked de ones he wanted on his side. Den de shuckin' started. You can't +make mention o' nothin good dat us didn' have t'eat after de shuckin'. I +still studies' bout dem days now. + +"Dey was big parties at de white folks' house, me, all dressed up wid +taller[FN: tallow] on my face to make it shine, a-servin' de gues'es[FN: +guests]. + +"One time, jus' when ever'thing was a-goin' fine, a sad thing happened. +My young mistis, de one named for her ma, ups an' runs off wid de son o' +de Irish ditch digger an' marries 'im. She wouldn' a-done it if dey'd +a-let 'r marry de man she wanted. Dey didn' think he was good 'nough for +her. So jus' to spite' em, she married de ditch digger's son. + +"Old Mis' wouldn' have nothin' more to do wid 'er, same as if she warnt +her own chil'. But I'd go over to see 'er an' carry milk an' things out +o' de garden. + +"It was pitiful to see my little miss poor. When I couldn' stan' it no +longer I walks right up to Old Mis' an' I says, 'Old Mis', does you know +Miss Farrell aint got no cow.' She jus' act lak she aint hear'd me, an' +put her lips together dat tight. I couldn' do nothin' but walk off an' +leave her. Pretty soon she called, 'Prince!' I says, 'Yes mam.' She +says, 'Seein' you is so concerned 'bout Miss Farrell not havin' no cow, +you better take one to 'er.' I foun' de rope an' carried de bes' cow in +de lot to Miss Farrell. + +"Shortly after dat I lef' wid Old Marster to go to North Carolina. Jus' +'fore de war come on, my marster called me to' im an' tol' me he was +a-goin' to take me to North Carolina to his brother for safe keepin'. +Right den I knowed somethin' was wrong. I was a-wishin' from de bottom +o' my heart dat de Yankees 'ud stay out o' us business an' not git us +all 'sturbed in de min'. + +"Things went on at his brother's place 'bout lak dey done at home. I +stayed dere all four years o' de war. I couldn' leave 'cause de men +folks all went to de war an' I had to stay an' pertec' de women folks. + +"De day peace was declared wagon loads o' people rode all th'ough de +place a-tellin' us 'bout bein' free. De old Colonel was killed in battle +an' his wife had died. De young marster called us in an' said it was all +true, dat us was free as he was, an' us could leave whenever us got +ready. He said his money warnt no good anymore an' he dida' have no +other to pay us wid. + +"I can't recollec' if he got new money an' paid us or not, but I do +'member ever' las' one o' us stayed. + +"I never lef' dat place' til my young marster, Mr. Jim Johnson, de one +dat was de Supreme Judge, come for me. He was a-livin' in South Carolina +den. He took us all home wid 'im. Us got dere in time to vote for +Gov'nor Wade Hamilton. Us put 'im in office, too. De firs' thing I done +was join de Democrat Club an' hoped[FN: helped] 'em run all o' de +scalawags away from de place. My young marster had always tol' me to +live for my country an' had seen 'nought of dat war to know jus' what +was a-goin' on. + +"I'se seen many a patrol in my lifetime, but dey dassent come on us +place. Now de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Ku Kluxes] was diff'ent. I rid[FN: rode] +wid' em many a time. 'Twas de only way in dem days to keep order. + +"When I was 'bout twenty-two year old, I married Clara Breaden. I had +two chilluns by her, Diana an' Davis. My secon' wife's name was Annie +Bet Woods. I had six chillun by her: Mary, Ella, John D., Claud William, +an' Prince, Jr. Three boys an' two gals is still livin'. I lives wid my +daughter, Claud, what is farmin' a place 'bout five miles from +Clarksdale. I has' bout fifteen head o' gran'chillun an' ever' las' one +of 'em's farmers. + +"Things is all peaceful now, but de worl' was sho' stirred up when +Abraham Lincoln was 'lected. I 'member well when dey killed 'im. Us had +a song' bout 'im dat went lak dis: + + 'Jefferson Davis rode de milk white steed, + Lincoln rode de mule. + Jeff Davis was a mighty fine man, + An' Lincoln was a fool.' + +"One o' de little gals was a-singin' dat song one day an' she mixed dem +names up. She had it dat Marse Davis was de fool. I'se laughed 'bout dat +many a time. When Mistis finished wid' er she had sho' broke her from +suckin' eggs. + +"I knows all 'bout what slave uprisin's is, but never in my life has I +seen anything lak dat. Never! Never! Where I was brought up de white man +knowed his place an' de Nigger knowed his'n[FN: his]. Both of' em stayed +in dey place. We aint never had no lynchin's, neither. + +"I know all 'bout Booker T. Washington. He come to de state o' +Mississippi once an' hel' a meetin' in Jackson. He made a gran' talk. He +made mention 'bout puttin' money in de bank. Lots o' darkies made +'membrance o' dat an' done it. He tol' us de firs' thing us had to learn +was to work an' dat all de schoolin' in de worl' wouldn' mean nothin' if +us didn' have no mother wit[FN: energy & common sense]. It's a pity us +aint got more folks lak him to guide us now dat us aint got no marster +an' mistis to learn us. + +"I's a Nigger what has been prosperous. I made a-plenty cotton an' I +teached my chillun to be good blue stockin' Presbyterians. All 'roun' de +country I was knowed an' ever'body b'lieved in me. + +"Maybe things is better lak dey is today. Mos' folks says so anyway. But +if Old Marster were a-livin' I'd be better off. I know dat to be so. + +"I can hear 'im say to me new, 'Prince Albert, who is you named for? +Well den hol' yo' head high so folks can see you is quality.'" + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[HAMP KENNEDY +Mahned, Mississippi] + + +Uncle Hamp Kennedy, a farmer, 78 years old, weighs about 135 pounds, and +is about 5 feet 9 inches high. His head is bald with a little gray fuzz +over his ears and growing low toward the nape of his neck. He does not +wear spectacles nor smoke a pipe. His face is clean shaven. + +Physically active, he does not use a crutch or cane and his hearing, +eyesight, and mind appear alert. The old Negro cannot read or write, but +he has a remarkable memory. He seems very happy in his little cabin +where he and his wife live alone, and his eyes beam with interest when +he remembers and discusses slavery times. + +"I was jes a little nigger when de War broke out--'bout fo' years ol', +my white folks say. I had a sister an' three brudders. My mammy an' +pappy was Mary Kennedy an' Lon Kennedy. My mammy was Mary Denham befo' +she mar'ied. I was born an' raised at Mahned, Mississippi. Old Miss Bill +Griffin was my missus. + +"De Yankees sho' come to our house--yes sir, dey did. De fust time dey +kotched our hogs an' cut off de hind part an' take hit wid' em. De front +part dey lef' in de fiel'. Dey carries corn in de saddle bags an' +throwed hit out to de chickens. Den when de chickens come up to eat dey +kotched 'em by de head an' wring hit off an' take all de chickens wid +'em. + +"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses +in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey +hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef' +dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an' +orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none. + +"One time I 'member when Aunt Charity an' Winnie McInnis, two niggers on +our plantation, tried to swim some of our hosses cross de riber to save +'em frum de soljers an' dey rode 'cross in a little boat. Well, when de +hosses got in de middle of de water, up comes a' gator[FN: alligator], +grabs one hoss by de ear, an' we ain't neber seed him no mo'. + +"When niggers run 'way frum de plantation dey was whupped, but dey had +to go to da sheriff to be whupped. De sheriff, he would tie de nigger to +a tree an' whup him till de blood run out. + +"'Bout de only recr'ation us niggers had in dem days was candy pullin's. +We all met at one house an' tol' ghost stories, sung plantation songs, +an' danced de clog while de candy was cookin'. Dem was de good old days. +Dey don't do dem things no mo'. + +"When a nigger died, we had a wake an' dat was diffrunt too frum whut +'tis today. Dey neber lef' a dead nigger 'lone in de house, but all de +neighbors was dere an' hoped[FN: helped]. Dey turned de mirrors to de +wall 'cause dey say once a long time ago, a nigger died an' three days +afte'wards his people looked in a mirror an' dere dey see da dead nigger +plain as day in de mirror. + +"At da wake we clapped our han's an' kep' time wid our feet--_Walking +Egypt_, dey calls hit--an' we chant an' hum all night 'till de nigger +was _funeralized_. + +"If we heerd a little old shiverin' owl[FN: screech owl] we'd th'ow salt +in de fire an' th'ow a broom 'cross de do' fer folks say dat 'twas a +sign of bad luck, an' a charm had to be worked fas' to keep sumpin' +terrible frum happenin', an' if a _big owl_ hollered, we wasn't 'lowed +to say one word. + +"Fire was 'bout de hardes' thing fer us to keep. Dere wa'nt no matches +in dem days, an' we toted fire frum one plantation to 'nother when hit +burned out. We put live coals in pans or buckets an' toted it home. + +"Sometimes we put heavy waddin' in a old gun an' shot hit out into a +brush heap an' then blowed the sparks' til de fire blazed. Ever'body had +flint rocks too, but few niggers could work 'em an' de ones dat could +allus had dat job to do. + +"My gran'mammy come frum South Ca'lina an' libed fust at New Augusta, +Mississippi. She used to pick big Catawba leaves an' roll her dough in +'em an' bake hit in a log heap, pilin' ashes over hit. Some called hit +ash cakes an' hit sho' was good. Nothin' lak hit dese days--no sir. + +"We had plen'y to eat--smoke sausage, beef, home made lard, an'--yes +sir, possum when we wanted hit. + +"We didn' git any pay fer our work but we had plen'y to eat an' clo'es +to wear, our clo'es was coarse but good. Most of 'em was wove on de +looms an' our socks an' stockings was knitted by de wimmin. De white +folks though, dey wear linen an' fine silk clo'es fer de big times. We +made blankets--coverlets, too. + +"We had 'bout 60 slaves on our place, an' if a nigger man on one +plantation fall in love wid a slave girl on 'nother place, dey jus' come +to her plantation an' jump ober de broom an' den dey is mar'ied. De +slabes never had preachers lak dey do at weddin's dese days. If de girl +didn't love de boy an' he jumped ober de broom an' she didn't, den dey +wa'nt mar'ied. + +"Dere was no schools in dem days either, an' I can't read an' write +today. Some of de white folks taught de younger niggers an' den dey tuk +dey lessons an' studied at dey cabin of nights afte' dey had finished +work. + +"We had prayer meetin's in each others houses durin' de week. One +plantation owner built a little church on his place an' de niggers, dey +go in de back do' an' sit in de back, an' white folks dey come in de +front of de church an' sit. De Presbyterin chu'ch was de only one 'round +dere an' dey sprinkled ever'body--jes poured water ober dey heads frum a +glass an' den patted hit hit in (demonstrated). + +"'Twas funny--one time Joe an' Green, two niggers on our place, et dey +supper an' run 'way at night an' afte' dey was kotched, dey tol' us dat +when dey was passin' through de woods dat night a great big old +gran'daddy owl flopped his wings an' Joe said 'we'd better turn back.' I +allus heard hit was bad luck fer to hear a owl floppin' lack dat, but +Green said 'twant nothin', jes a old owl floppin', but he jes naturally +flopped diffrunt dat night, an' Green walked on 'bout 15 steps an' +somebody shot him dead. Joe said he tu'ned back an' run home. + +"All our niggers had to have passes to leave de plantation an' when de +pataroller kotched 'em wid out'n a pass, de nigger was whupped. +Sometimes de plantation owner did hit an' sometimes de sheriff. Dey +used a long leather strop cut at de ends. + +"We used snake root, hohound weed, life everlastin' weed, horse mint, +an' sassafras as medicine. + +"When de War was right on us, grub was scarce an' sometimes little +niggers only had clabber milk an' dey et it in de trough wid de pigs, +an' sometimes dey only had pie crusts an' bread crusts at night when dey +et on de cabin flo'. Dem was hard times afte' de War. + +"'Nother time one nigger run 'way frum our plantation an' hid by day an' +traveled by night so de nigger dogs wouldn't git him an' he hid in a +hollow tree. Dere was three cubs down in dat tree an' hit was so slick +inside an' so high 'til he couldn't clim' out, an' afte' while de ole +bear came back an' throw in half a hog. Den she go 'way an' come ag'in +an' throw in de other half. 'Bout a hour later, she came back an' crawl +in back'ards herse'f. De nigger inside de tree kotched her by de tail +an' pulled hisself out. Hit scared de bear so 'til she run in one +direction an' de nigger in 'nother. But de nigger, he run in de +direction of his marster's place an' said he'd neber run off again as +long as he libed. + +"I can't 'member de old songs but dese niggers today can't sing lak dat +neither 'cause dey ain't libed back dere, an' dey can't feel hit lak us +old folks. Dem was de good old days allright, an' dey was hard days +too." + + + + +JAMES LUCAS +Natchez, Mississippi + + +James Lucas, ex-slave of Jefferson Davis, lives at Natchez, Adams +County. Uncle Jim is small, wrinkled, and slightly stooped. His woolly +hair is white, and his eyes very bright. He wears a small grizzled +mustache. He is always clean and neatly dressed. + +"Miss, you can count up for yo'se'f. I was born on October 11, 1833. My +young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope'ty of his uncle, +Marse W.B. Withers. He was a-goin' through de papers an' a-burnin' some +of 'em when he foun' de one 'bout me. Den he says, 'Jim, dissen's 'bout +you. It gives yo' birthday.' + +"I recollec' a heap' bout slav'ry-times, but I's all by myse'f now. All +o' my frien's has lef' me. Even Marse Fleming has passed on. He was a +little boy when I was a grown man. + +"I was born in a cotton fiel' in cotton pickin' time, an' de wimmins +fixed my mammy up so she didn' hardly lose no time at all. My mammy sho' +was healthy. Her name was Silvey an' her mammy come over to dis country +in a big ship. Somebody give her de name o' Betty, but twant her right +name. Folks couldn' un'erstan' a word she say. It was some sort o' +gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an' it soun' _dat_ funny. My pappy was +Bill Lucas. + +"When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on +de week-a-days. Dey was long an' had big collars. When de seams ripped +de hide would show through. When I got big enough to wait 'roun' at de +Big House an' go to town, I wore clean rough clo'es. De pants was white +linsey-woolsey an' de shirts was rough white cotton what was wove at de +plantation. In de winter de sewin' wimmins made us heavy clothes an' +knit wool socks for us. De wimmins wore linsey-woolsey dresses an' long +leggin's lak de sojers wear. Dis was a long narrow wool cloth an' it +wropt 'roun' an' 'roun' dey legs an' fas'n at de top wid a string. + +"I never went to no church, but on Sund'ys a white man would preach an' +pray wid us an' when he'd git through us went on 'bout us own business. + +"At Chris'mus de Marster give de slaves a heap o' fresh meat an' whiskey +for treats. But you better not git drunk. No-sir-ree! Den on Chris'mus +Eve dey was a big dance an' de white folks would come an' see de one +what dance de bes'. Marster an' Mistis laugh fit to kill at de capers us +cut. Den sometimes dey had big weddin's an' de young white ladies +dressed de brides up lak dey was white. Sometimes dey sont to N'awleans +for a big cake. De preacher married' em wid de same testimony[FN: +ceremony] dey use now. Den ever'body'd have a little drink an' some +cake. It sho' was larrupin'[FN: very good][HW:?]. Den ever'body'd git +right. Us could dance near 'bout all night. De old-time fiddlers played +fas' music an' us all clapped han's an' tromped an' sway'd in time to de +music. Us sho' made de rafters ring. + +"Us slaves didn' pay no 'tention to who owned us, leastways de young +ones didn'. I was raised by a marster what owned a heap o' lan's. Lemme +see, dey is called Artonish, Lockdale, an' Lockleaven. Dey is +plantations 'long de river in Wilkinson County, where I was raised. Dey +is all 'long together. + +"I's sho' my firs' marster was Marse Jim Stamps an' his wife was Miss +Lucindy. She was nice an' sof'-goin'. Us was glad when she stayed on de +plantation. + +"Nex' thing I knowed us all b'longed to Marse Withers. He was from de +nawth an' he didn' have no wife. (Marsters wid-out wives was de debbil. +I knows a-plenty what I oughtn' tell to ladies. Twant de marsters whut +was so mean. Twas dem po' white trash overseers an' agents. Dey was +mean; dey was meaner dan bulldogs. Yes'm, wives made a big diffe'nce. +Dey was kin' an' went 'bout mongst de slaves a-lookin' after 'em. Dey +give out food an' clo'es an' shoes. Dey doctered de little babies.) When +things went wrong de wimmins was all de time puttin' me up to tellin' de +Mistis. Marse D.D. Withers was my young marster. He was a little man, +but ever'body stepped when he come 'roun'. + +"Don' rightly know how it come 'bout. Lemme see! De bes' I 'member my +nex' Marster was Pres'dent Jefferson Davis hisse'f. Only he warnt no +pres'dent den. He was jus' a tall quiet gent'man wid a pretty young wife +what he married in Natchez. Her name was Miss Varina Howell, an' he sho' +let her have her way. I spec I's de only one livin' whose eyes ever seed +'em bofe. I talked wid her when dey come in de big steamboat. 'Fore us +got to de big house, I tol' her all 'bout de goins'-on on de +plantations. She was a fine lady. When I was a boy 'bout thirteen years +old dey took me up de country toward Vicksburg to a place call +Briarsfield. It mus'-a been named for her old home in Natchez what was +called 'de Briars.' I didn' b'long to Marse Jeff no great while, but I +aint never fo'git de look of 'im. He was always calm lak an' savin' on +his words. His wife was jus' de other way. She talked more dan a-plenty. + +"I b'lieves a bank sol' us nex' to Marse L.Q. Chambers. I 'members him +well. I was a house-servant an' de overseer dassent hit me a lick. +Marster done lay de law down. Mos' planters lived on dey plantations +jus' a part o' de year. Dey would go off to Saratogy an' places up +nawth. Sometimes Marse L.Q. would come down to de place wid a big wagon +filled wid a thousan' pair o' shoes at one time. He had a nice wife. One +day whilst I was a-waitin' on de table I see old Marse lay his knife +down jus' lak he tired. Den he lean back in his chair, kinda still lak. +Den I say, 'What de matter wid Marse L.Q.?' Den dey all jump an' scream +an', bless de Lawd, if he warnt plumb dead. + +"Slaves didn' know what to 'spec from freedom, but a lot of 'em hoped +dey would be fed an' kep' by de gov'ment. Dey all had diffe'nt ways o' +thinkin' 'bout it. Mos'ly though dey was jus' lak me, dey didn' know +jus' zackly what it meant. It was jus' somp'n dat de white folks an' +slaves all de time talk 'bout. Dat's all. Folks dat ain' never been free +don' rightly know de _feel_ of bein' free. Dey don' know de meanin' of +it. Slaves like us, what was owned by quality-folks, was sati'fied an' +didn' sing none of dem freedom songs. I recollec' one song dat us could +sing. It went lak dis: + + 'Drinkin' o' de wine, drinkin' o' de wine, + Ought-a been in heaven three-thousan' yeahs + A-drinkin' o' dat wine, a-drinkin' o' dat wine.' + +Us could shout dat one. + +"I was a grown-up man wid a wife an' two chillun when de War broke out. +You see, I stayed wid de folks til 'long cum de Yanks. Dey took me off +an' put me in de War. Firs', dey shipped me on a gunboat an', nex', dey +made me he'p dig a canal at Vicksburg. I was on de gunboat when it +shelled de town. It was turrible, seein' folks a-tryin' to blow each +other up. Whilst us was bull-doggin' Vicksburg in front, a Yankee army +slipped in behin' de Rebels an' penned 'em up. I fit[FN: fought] at Fort +Pillow an' Harrisburg an' Pleasant Hill an' 'fore I was ha'f through wid +it I was in Ba'timore an' Virginny. + +"I was on han' when Gin'l Lee handed his sword to Gin'l Grant. You see, +Miss, dey had him all hemmed in an' he jus' natchelly had to give up. I +seen him stick his sword up in de groun'. + +"Law! It sho' was turrible times. Dese old eyes o' mine seen more people +crippled an' dead. I'se even seen 'em saw off legs wid hacksaws. I tell +you it aint right, Miss, what I seen. It aint right atall. + +"Den I was put to buryin' Yankee sojers. When nobody was lookin' I +stript de dead of dey money. Sometimes dey had it in a belt a-roun' dey +bodies. Soon I got a big roll o' foldin' money. Den I come a-trampin' +back home. My folks didn' have no money but dat wuthless kin'. It was +all dey knowed 'bout. When I grabbed some if it an' throwed it in de +blazin' fiah, dey thought I was crazy, 'til I tol' 'em, 'dat aint money; +it's no 'count!' Den I give my daddy a greenback an' tol' him what it +was. + +"Aftah de War was over de slaves was worse off dan when dey had +marsters. Some of 'em was put in stockades at Angola, Loosanna[FN: +Louisiana], an' some in de turrible corral at Natchez. Dey warnt used to +de stuff de Yankees fed 'em. Dey fed' em wasp-nes' bread, 'stead o' +corn-pone an' hoe cake, an' all such lak. Dey caught diseases an' died +by de hund'eds, jus' lak flies. Dey had been fooled into thinkin' it +would be good times, but it was de wors' times dey ever seen. Twant no +place for 'em to go; no bed to sleep on; an' no roof over dey heads. Dem +what could git back home set out wid dey min's made up to stay on de +lan'. Mos' of dey mistis' took 'em back so dey wuked de lan' ag'in. I +means dem what lived to git back to dey folks was more'n glad to wuk! +Dey done had a sad lesson. Some of 'em was worse'n slaves after de War. + +"Dem Ku Kluxes was de debbil. De Niggers sho' was scared of 'em, but dey +was more after dem carpet-baggers dan de Niggers. I lived right in +'mongst 'em, but I wouldn' tell. No Ma'm! I knowed 'em, but I dasn' +talk. Sometimes dey would go right in de fiel's an' take folks out an' +kill 'em. Aint none of 'em lef' now. Dey is all dead an' gone, but dey +sho' was rabid den. I never got in no trouble wid 'em, 'cause I tended +my business an' kep' out o' dey way. I'd-a been kilt if I'd-a run 'roun' +an' done any big talkin'. + +"I never knowed Marse Linc'um, but I heard he was a pow'ful good man. I +'members plain as yesterd'y when he got kilt an' how all de flags hung +at ha'f mas'. De Nawth nearly went wil' wid worryin' an' blamed +ever'body else. Some of 'em even tried to blame de killin' on Marse +Davis. I fit wid de Yankees, but I thought a mighty heap o' Marse Davis. +He was quality. + +"I guess slav'ry was wrong, but I 'members us had some mighty good +times. Some marsters was mean an' hard but I was treated good all time. +One thing I does know is dat a heap of slaves was worse off after de +War. Dey suffered 'cause dey was too triflin' to work widout a boss. Now +dey is got to work or die. In dem days you worked an' rested an' knowed +you'd be fed. In de middle of de day us rested an' waited for de horn to +blow to go back to de fiel'. Slaves didn' have nothin' turrible to worry +'bout if dey acted right. Dey was mean slaves de same as dey was mean +marsters. + +"Now-a-days folks don' live right. In slav'ry times when you got sick a +white docter was paid to git you well. Now all you gits is some no-count +paten' medicine. You is 'fraid to go to de horspital, 'cause de docters +might cut on yo' stummick. I think slav'ry was a lot easier dan de War. +Dat was de debbil's own business. Folks what hankers for war don' know +what dey is askin' for. Dey ain' never seen no bloodshed. In war-times a +man was no more dan a varmint. + +"When my white folks tol' us us was free, I waited. When de sojers come +dey turnt us loose lak animals wid nothin'. Dey had no business to set +us free lak dat. Dey gimme 160 acres of lan', but twant no 'count. It +was in Mt. Bayou, Arkansas, an' was low an' swampy. Twant yo' lan' to +keep lessen you lived on it. You had to clear it, dreen it, an' put a +house on it. + +"How I gwine-a dreen an' clear a lot o' lan' wid nothin' to do it wid? +Reckon somebody livin' on my lan' now. + +"One of de rights of bein' free was dat us could move 'roun' and change +bosses. But I never cared nothin' 'bout dat. + +"I hear somebody say us gwine-a vote. What I wanta vote for? I don' know +nothin' 'bout who is runnin'. + +"I draws a Federal pension now. If I lives' til nex' year I'll git $125 +a mont'. It sho' comes in handy. I paid $800 for my house an', if I'd-a +thought, I'd-a got one wid mo' lan'. I don' wan' to plant nothin'. I do +want to put a iron fence a-roun' it an' gild it wid silver paint. Den +when I's gone, dar it will be. + +"Yes'm. I'se raised a big fambly. Dem what aint dead, some of' em looks +as old as I does. I got one gran-chil' I loves jus' lak my own chillun. +I don' rightly 'member dis minute how many chillun I had, but I aint had +but two wives. De firs' one died long 'bout seventeen years ago, an' I +done what de Good Book say. It say, 'when you goes to de graveyard to +bury yo' firs' wife, look over de crowd an' pick out de nex' one.' + +"Dat's jus' what I done. I picked Janie McCoy, 'cause she aint never +been married b'fore. She's a good cook, even if she does smoke a pipe, +an' don' know much' bout nothin'. + +"I sho' don' live by no rules. I jus' takes a little dram when ever I +wants it, an' I smokes a pipe 'ceptin when de Mistis give me a +seegar[FN: cigar]. I can't chew tobacco on 'count my teeth is gone. I +aint been sick in bed but once in seventy years. + +"I is five feet, five inches tall. I used to weigh 150 pounds, but dis +old carcass o' mine done los' fifty pounds of meat. + +"Now-a-days I has a heap of misery in my knee, so I can't ride 'roun' no +mo'. Durin' de War I got a muskit ball in my hip an' now dat my meat's +all gone, it jolts a-roun' an' hurts me worse. I's still right sprightly +though. I can jump dat drainage ditch in front of de house, an' I sho' +can walk. Mos' every day I walks to de little sto' on Union Street. Dar +I rests long enough to pass de time-o-day wid my neighbors. My eyes is +still good, but I wears glasses for show an' for seein' close. + +"De longer I lives de plainer I see dat it ain' right to want mo' dan +you can use. De Lawd put a-plenty here for ever'body, but shucks! Us +don' pay no min' to his teachin'. Sometimes I gits lonesome for de +frien's I used to know, 'cause aint nobody lef' but me. I's sho' been +lef a fur piece[FN: long way] b'hin'. De white folks say, 'Old Jim is de +las' leaf on de tree,' an' I 'spec dey's 'bout right." + + + + +Sam McAllum, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County +FEC +Marjorie Woods Austin +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +SAM McALLUM +Meridian, Mississippi + + +To those familiar with the history of "Bloody Kemper" as recorded, the +following narrative from the lips of an eye-witness will be heresy. But +the subject of this autobiography, carrying his ninety-five years more +trimly than many a man of sixty, is declared sound of mind as well as of +body by the Hector Currie family, prominent in Mississippi, for whom he +has worked in a position of great trust and responsibility for fifty +years or more. + +While this old Negro may be mistaken at some points (the universal +failing of witnesses), his impressions are certainly not more involved +than the welter of local records. Mrs. Currie states that if Sam said he +saw a thing happen thus, it may be depended upon that he is telling +exactly what he really saw. + +Sam McAllum, ex-slave, lives in Meridian, Lauderdale County. Sam is five +feet three inches tall and weighs 140 pounds. + + +"De firs' town I ever seen were DeKalb in Kemper County. De Stephenson +Plantation where I were born warnt but 'bout thirteen miles north o' +DeKalb. I were born de secon' o' September in 1842. My mammy b'longed to +de Stephensons an' my pappy b'longed to Marster Lewis Barnes. His +plantation wasn't so very far from Stephenson. De Stephensons an' +Barneses were kin' white people. My pappy were a old man when I were +born--I were de baby chil'. After he died, my mammy marry a McAllum +Nigger. + +"Dey were 'bout thirty slaves at Stephenson. My mammy worked in de +fiel', an' her mammy, Lillie, were de yard-woman. She looked after de +little cullud chillun. + +"I don't recollec' any playthings us had 'cept a ball my young marster +gimme. He were Sam Lewis Stephenson, 'bout my age. De little cullud +chillun' ud play 'Blin' Man', 'Hidin'', an' jus' whatever come to han'. + +"My young marster learned me out o' his speller, but Mistis whupped me. +She say I didn' need to learn nothin' 'cept how to count so's I could +feed de mules widout colicin' 'em. You give' em ten years[FN: ears] o' +corn to de mule. If you give' em more, it 'ud colic' 'em an' dey'd die. +Dey cos' more'n a Nigger would. Dat were de firs' whuppin' I ever +got--when me an' my young marster were a-spellin'. + +"I stayed wid him special, but I waited on all de white folk's chillun +at Stephenson. I carried de foot tub in at night an' washed dey foots, +an' I'd pull de trun'le bed out from under de other bed. All de boys +slep' in de same room. + +"Den I were a yard boy an' waited on de young marster an' mistis. Hadn' +been to de fiel' den--hadn' worked yet. + +"Mr. Stephenson were a surveyor an' he fell out wid Mr. McAllum an' had +a lawsuit. He had to pay it in darkies. Mr. McAllum had de privilege o' +takin' me an' my mammy, or another woman an' her two. He took us. So us +come to de McAllum plantation to live. It were in Kemper, too, 'bout +eight miles from Stephenson. Us come dere endurin' of de war. Dat were +when my mammy marry one of de McAllum Niggers. My new pappy went to de +war wid Mr. McAllum an' were wid 'im when he were wounded at Mamassas +Gab Battle. He brung 'im home to die--an' he done it. + +"Den de Yankees come th'ough DeKalb huntin' up cannons an' guns an' +mules. Dey sho' did eat a heap. Us hid all de bes' things lak silver, +an' driv'[FN: drove] de stock to de swamp. Dey didn' burn nothin', but +us hear'd tell o' burnin's in Scooba an' Meridian. I were a-plowin' a +mule an' de Yankees made me take him out. De las' I seen o' dat mule, he +were headed for Scooba wid three Yankees a-straddle of 'im. + +"Times were tight--not a grain o' coffee an' not much else. When us +clo'es[FN: clothes] were plumb wore out, de mistis an' de Nigger wimmins +made us some out o' de cotton us had raised. My granny stayed de +loom-room all de time. De other winmins done de spinnin' an' she done de +weavin'. She were a' good'n'. + +"De M & O (Mobile & Ohio Railroad) were a-burnin' wood, den. Dey couldn' +git coal. Dey used taller[FN: tallow] pots 'stead o' oil. De engineer +had to climb out on de engine hisse'f an' 'tend to dam taller pots. Dey +do diffe'nt now. + +"Dey were such a sca'city of men, dey were a-puttin' 'em in de war at +sixty-five. But de war end 'fore dey call dat list. + +"Mistis didn' have nobody to he'p her endurin' de war. She had to do de +bes' she could. + +"When she hear'd de Niggers talkin' 'bout bein' free, she wore 'em out +wid a cowhide. She warnt a pow'ful-built woman, neither. She had to do +it herse'f, 'cause twant nobody to do it for 'er. Dey warnt nothin' a +Nigger could do but stan' up an' take it. + +"Some folks treated dey slaves mighty bad--put Nigger dogs on 'em. All +my white folks were good to dey slaves, 'cordin' to how good de Niggers +b'haved deyse'fs. Course, you couldn' leave no plantation widout a pass, +or de pateroller'd git you. I aint countin' dat, 'cause dat were +somthin' ever'body knowed 'forehan'. + +"Dey were a heap o' talk 'bout de Yankees a-givin' ever' Nigger forty +acres an' a mule. I don't know how us come to hear 'bout it. It jus' +kinda got aroun'. I picked out my mule. All o' us did. + +"Times were mighty tough. Us thought us knowed trouble endurin' de war. +Um-m-m! Us didn' know nothin' 'bout trouble. + +"Dey were so many slaves at McAllum's, dey had to thin 'em out. Mistis +put us out[FN: hired us out]. She sent me to Mr. Scott close to Scooba. +I were mos' a grown boy by den an' could plow pretty good. Come de +surrender, Mr. Scott say, 'Sambo, I don't have to pay yo' mistis for you +no more. I have to pay you if you stay. Niggers is free. You is free.' I +didn' b'lieve it. I worked dat crop out, but I didn' ask for no pay. Dat +didn' seem right. I didn' un'erstan' 'bout freedom, so I went home to my +old mistis. She say, 'Sambo, you don't b'long to me now.' + +"Dey bound us young Niggers out. Dey sent me an' my brother to a man dat +were goin' to give us some learnin' 'long wid farmin'. His name were +Overstreet. Us worked dat crop out, but us aint never seen no speller, +nor nothin'. + +"Den us went back to Stephenson's, where us were born, to git us age. +Old mistis say, 'Sambo, you aint twenty-one yet.' + +"She cried, 'cause I had to go back to Mr. Overstreet. But I didn'. My +mammy an' me went back to McAllum's an' stayed until a man give us a +patch in turn[FN: return] for us he'pin' him on his farm. + +"I know 'bout de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Klu Kluxes]. I seen 'em. 'Bout de firs' +time I seen 'em were de las'. Aint nobody know zackly[FN: exactly] 'bout +dem Kloo Kluxes. Some say it were a sperrit dat hadn' had no water since +de war. One rider would drink fo' or five gallons at one time--kep' us +a-totin' buckets fas' as us could carry 'em. It were a sperrit, a evil +sperrit. + +"But folks dat aint acted right liable to be found mos' anytime tied up +some'r's: De Niggers were a-havin' a party one Satu'd'y night on +Hampton's plantation. Come some men on horses wid some kin' o' +scare-face on 'em. Dey were all wropped[FN: wrapped] up, disguised. De +horses were kivered[FN: covered] up, too. Dey call for Miler Hampton. He +were one o' de Hampton Niggers. He been up to somethin'. I don't know +what he done, but dey say he done somethin' bad. Dey didn' have no +trouble gittin' him, 'cause us were all scared us'd git kilt, too. Dey +carried 'im off wid 'em an' kilt him dat very night. + +"Us went to DeKalb nex' day in a drove an' ask de white folks to he'p +us. Us buy all de ammunition us could git to take de sperrit, 'cause us +were a-havin' 'nother party de nex' week. Dey didn' come to dat party. + +"I don't know why dey don't have no Kloo Kluxes now. De sperrit still +have de same power. + +"Den I go to work for Mr. Ed McAllum in DeKalb--when I aint workin' for +de Gullies. Mr. Ed were my young marster, you know, an' now he were de +jailor in DeKalb. + +"I knowed de Chisolms, too. Dat's how come I seen all I seen an' know +what aint never been tol'. I couldn' tell you dat. Maybe I's de only one +still livin' dat were grown an' right dere an' seen it happen. I aint +scared now nothin' 'ud happen to me for tellin'--Mr. Currie'd see to +dat--I jus' aint never tol'. Dem dat b'longed to my race were scared to +tell. Maybe it were all for de bes'. Dat were a long time ago. Dey give +out things den de way dey wanted 'em to soun', an' dat's de way dey done +come down: + +"'It started wid Mr. John Gully gittin' shot. Now Mr. Gully were a +leadin' man 'mong de white democratic people in Kemper, but dey aint had +much chance for 'bout seven years (I disremember jus' how long) on +'count o' white folks lak de Chisolms runnin' ever'thing. Ever'body were +sho' it were some' o' de Chisolm crowd, but some folks knowed it were +dat Nigger, Walter Riley, dat shot Mr. Gully. (But aint nobody ever tol' +de sho' 'nough reason why Walter shot Mr. John Gully.) + +"'De Chisolms warnt Yankees, but dey warnt white democratic people. Dey +do say de Chisolms an' folks lak' em used to run 'roun' wid de Yankees. +Maybe dat's how come dey was diffe'nt. Even 'fore de Yankees come +a-tall, when Mr. Chisolm were on us side, he were loud moufed[FN: +mouthed] 'bout it. + +"'Mr. John Gully he'p Mr. Chisolm git to be judge, but he turnt out to +be worse dan dem he had to judge. Mr. Gully an' de others made 'im +resign. I reckon maybe dat's why he quit bein' a Democratic an' started +ructions wid Mr. Gully. + +"'Come de surrender, Mr. Chisolm, he got to be a big leader on de other +side. An' he seen to it dat a lot o' de white democratic men got he'p +from votin' an' a lot o' Niggers step up an' vote lak he tol' 'em (dey +were scared not to). So de Chisolms kep' gittin' all de big places. + +"'A lot o' widders an' folks lak dat what couldn' he'p deyse'fs los' dey +homes an' ever'thing dey had. De papers de gran' jury make out 'bout it +were stored in de sheriff's office. De sheriff give out dat his office +done been broke open an' all dem papers stole. + +"'Den Mr. Chisolm's brother got hisse'f p'inted[FN: appointed] sheriff +an' make Mr. Chisolm deputy. Dat's when he started runnin' things, sho' +'nough. Nex' thing you know, Mr. Chisolm is de sho' 'nough sheriff, +hisse'f. + +"'Den he gather all his kin' o' folks 'roun' 'im an' dey make out a +black lis'. De folkses names dat were on it were de ones de Chisolms +didn' need. It were talked 'roun' dat de firs' name on dat lis' were Mr. +John Gully's name. A heap o' Kloo Kluxes' names were on it, too. Mr. +Chisolm send de Kloo Kluxes' names to de Gov'nor an' spec' him to do +somethin' 'bout runnin' 'em out. But, course, he couldn' do nothin' +'bout dat, 'cause it were a sperrit. But ever' now an' den somebody +what's name were on dat lis' 'ud git shot in de back. + +"'Afore de 'lection come in November (it mus' a-been in '75) de Niggers +had been a-votin' an' doin' ever'thing de Chisolms say. Dey were still +a-harpin' back to dat forty acres an' a mule dey were promised what dey +aint never got. It were turnin' out to be jus' de same wid ever'thing +else Mr. Chisolm had been a-promisin' to give 'em. Dey aint never got +none of it. De white democratic folks won dat 'lection. + +"'Soon Mr. Chisolm run for somthin' or 'nother an' got beat bad. Den he +were mad sho' 'nough. He went to Jackson to see de Gov'nor 'bout it. +Soon a heap o' white democratic men in Kemper got arrested for somethin' +or nother. + +"'Den Mr. John Gully got shot an' ever'body were sho' de Chisolms done +it. Ever'body were dat mad. Chisolm an' dem had to go to court. But dey +were slippery as eels an' Walter Riley's name come out. (He were a +Nigger.) Dey give out at de trial dat Walter were hired to shoot 'im by +de Chisolm folks. Dat were not de reason, but dey was blood 'fore folks' +eyes by dat time. + +"'It got worse dat Satu'd'y when Mr. Gully were buried. Folks all over +Kemper done hear'd 'bout it by now, an' by nine o'clock Sund'y mornin', +people were a-comin' in over ever' road dat led to DeKalb. Dey all had +loaded guns. It were on a Sund'y when all de killin' happened--I mean, +de windin'-up killin'. I were dere 'fore a gun were fired. I were dere +when de firs' man were wounded. + +"'De cullud people had gathered in DeKalb at de Methodis' Church. Dey +hadn' a gun fired yet. Mr. Henry Gully goes to de cullud people's +church. He walked in at de front door an' took his hat off his head. Dey +were a-packed in de house for preachin'. He walked down de aisle 'til he +got in front o' de preacher an' he turn sideways an' speak: "I want to +ask you to dismiss yo' congregation. Dey is goin' to be some trouble +take place right here in DeKalb an' I don't want any cullud person to +git hurt." De preacher rise to his feet, ever' Nigger in de house were +up, an' he dismiss 'em. (Mr. Henry Gully were Mr. John Gully's brother +an' a leadin' man o' de right.) + +"'De town were a-millin' wid folks from ever'where. Chisolm an' dem done +got in de jail for safety an' Miss Cornelia Chisolm went back'ards an' +for'ards to de jail. Dey thought she were a-carryin' ammunition in her +clo'es[FN: clothes] to her father. Mr. McClendon--he were one of' +em--were wid her twict. He were on de right-hand side. Some b'lieved he +were de one dat killed Mr. John Gully. Dey tol' 'im dey'd burn his house +down if he stay in it, but if he'd go on to jail, dey'd give 'im a fair +trial. + +"'Well, Mr. McClendon were shot down 'side Miss Cornelia. I seen him +when he fell on his face. De man dat fired de gun turn him over an' say, +"Well, us got' im." Miss Cornelia run on to de jail where de bounce[FN: +balance] o' de fam'ly were. + +"'Dem outside say, "Boys, it'll never do! Dey aint all in dere yet. +Let's sen' to Scooba an' git Charlie Rosenbaum an' John Gilmore to come +help dey frien's. Dey b'longs to dat Chisolm crowd an' we want dem, +too." + +"'So dey come. Somebody say, "Let's commence right here." I never seen a +battle b'fore, but I sho' seen one den. It were lak dis: Mr. Cal Hull +was de only democratic white frien' Mr. Rosenbaum had. He stood' twixt +his white democratic frien's an' Mr. Rosenbaum. He put his arms over Mr. +Rosenbaum an' say, "Boys, he's a frien' o' mine. If you kill him, you +kill me." Mr. Rosenbaum crawled over to de courthouse wall, an' squatted +down, an' stayed dere. Mr. Hull stood over 'im, pertectin' 'im. But Mr. +John Gilmore make for de jail an', when dey open de door for 'im, de +shootin' start. Right den were when Mr. Gilmore got his. Miss Cornelia +were struck in de wris'. It mortified an' after 'while she died from +it.' + +"I know I aint tol' de sho' 'nough reason Mr. John Gully got killed. +Maybe de time done come for de truf to be tol'. Hope won't nobody think +hard o' me for tellin': + +"Mr. John Gully had a bar-room an' a clerk. A white man by de name o' +Bob Dabbs walked[FN: clerked] b'hin' dat counter. Dis Nigger, Walter +Riley, I was a-tellin' you 'bout awhile ago, were a-courtin' a +yaller[FN: yellow] woman. (Dey warnt so many of 'em in dem days.) Mr. +Dabbs say, "Walter, if I ever kotch[FN: catch] you walkin wid (he called +dat yaller woman's name) I'll give you de worst beatin' ever was." +Walter were kotch wid 'er ag'in. Dat Frid'y night he come a-struttin' +into de bar-room. Mr. Dabbs say, "Come he'p move dese boxes here in de +nex' room." Walter walked in lak a Nigger will when you ask 'im to do +somethin', an' Mr. Dabbs turnt de key. "Git 'crost dat goods box," he +say. "I'll give you what I promised you." Mr. Dabbs got 'im a piece o' +plank an' burnt Walter up. + +"All dis here were a-goin' on 'bout de time Niggers were a-votin' an' +doin' things 'roun' white folks. Dey thought dey were pertected by de +Chisolm crowd. + +"De nex' Frid'y night Walter walked right into dat bar-room ag'in. Mr. +Dabbs say, "What you doin' here, Nigger?" Walter say, "You 'member what +you done to me tonight one week?" An' he say, "Well, what's to it?" Den +Walter say, "Well, I come to settle wid you." Mr. Dabbs say, "Let me see +if I can't hurry you up some," an' he retch[FN: reached] his han' back +his han' to his hip. But 'fore he could draw[FN: draw his gun] out, +Walter done run back to de door. Dey were a chinaberry tree close to de +door an' Walter got b'hin' it an' fired a pistol. Mr. Dabbs were hit wid +his arm a-layin' 'crost de counter wid his pistol in his han'. + +"'Me an' Mr. Ed ('cause he were de jailor), we put him on a mattress in +de room back o' de bar. An' he died dat night. De word jus' kinda got' +roun' dat some of de Chisolm crowd done killed Mr. Gully's clerk. + +"'Walter run off to Memphis. Mr. Gully were pursuin' after 'im to ketch +'im. Walter sho' got tired of him pursuin' after 'im. Dat were de +evidence Walter give out 'fore dey put de rope on his neck an' start him +on his way to de gallows, but twant nobody dere to put it down jus' lak +it were. + +"'Mr. Sinclair were sheriff by dis time, an' my young marster an' me +went wid 'im to git Walter to take 'im to de gallows. Mr. Sinclair say, +"Ed, you goin' to de jail-house now? Here's a ha'f pint o' whiskey. Give +it to Walter, make 'im happy, den if he talk too much, nobody will +b'lieve it." Mr. Ed say, "Come on, Sambo, go wid me." He retched down +an' got a han'ful o' goobers an' put 'em in his pocket. We were eatin' +'em on de way down to de jail-house. He say, "Walter, Mr. Sinclair done +sent you a dram." Walter say, "Mr. McAllum, I see you an' Sam eatin' +peanuts comin' along. Jus' you give me a han'ful an' I'll eat dem on de +way to de gallows. I don't want no whiskey." + +"'Den us got on de wagon. (I can see Walter now, standin' dere wid his +cap on de back o' his head ready to pull down over his eyes after he +git dere.) Dey were a pow'ful crowd 'roun' dat wagon. + +"'Den come a rider from Scooba, pull a paper from his pocket, an' han' +it to Mr. Sinclair. He read it an' say," Let de people go on to de +gallows. De wagon turn 'roun' an' go back to de jail." De Gov'nor had +stopped de hangin' 'til de case were 'vestigated. (De people standin' +dere a-waitin' for Walter to be hung didn' know what were de matter.) + +"'Dey placed Walter back in jail an' his coffin 'long wid' im. De +lawyers would visit 'im to git his testimony. Dey'd show 'im his coffin +all ready an' ask him did he do dis killin' or not. Dey want 'im to say +he were hired to do it. Dey fixed it all up. Twant nobody to tell jus' +how it were.' + +"I were married by dis time to Laura. She were de nurse maid to Mr. J.H. +Currie. She's been dead twenty years, now. When de Curries come to +Meridian to live, dey give me charge o' dey plantation. I were de leader +an' stayed an' worked de plantation for' em. Dey been livin' in Meridian +twelve years. I's married now to dey cook. + +"Mr. Hector tol' me if I'd come an' live wid' em here, he'd gimme dis +house here in de back yard an' paint it an' fix it all up lak you see +it. It's mighty pleasant in de shade. Folks used to always set dey +houses in a grove, but now dey cuts down more trees dan dey keeps. Us +don't cut no trees. Us porches is always nice an' shady. + +"I'se got fo' boys livin'. One son were in de big strike in de +automobile plant in Detroit an' couldn' come to see me las' Chris'mus. +He'll come to see me nex' year if I's still here. + +"Maybe folks goin' a-think hard o' me for tellin' what aint never been +tol' b'fore. I been asked to tell what I seen an' I done it. + +"Dat's tellin' what I never thought to tell." + + + + +Charlie Moses, Ex-slave, Lincoln County +FEC +Esther de Sola +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +CHARLIE MOSES +Brookhaven, Mississippi + + +Charlie Moses, 84 year old ex-slave, lives at Brookhaven. He possesses +the eloquence and the abundant vocabulary of all Negro preachers. He is +now confined to his bed because of the many ailments of old age. His +weight appears to be about 140 pounds, height 6 feet 1 inch high. + +"When I gits to thinkin' back on them slavery days I feels like risin' +out o' this here bed an' tellin' ever'body 'bout the harsh treatment us +colored folks was given when we was owned by poor quality folks. + +"My marster was mean an' cruel. I hates him, hates him! The God Almighty +has condemned him to eternal fiah. Of that I is certain. Even the cows +and horses on his plantation was scared out o' their minds when he come +near 'em. Oh Lordy! I can tell you plenty 'bout the things he done to us +poor Niggers. We was treated no better than one o' his houn' dogs. +Sometimes he didn' treat us as good as he did them. I prays to the Lord +not to let me see him when I die. He had the devil in his heart. + +"His name was Jim Rankin an' he lived out on a plantation over in Marion +County. I was born an' raised on his place. I spec I was 'bout twelve +year old at the time o' the war. + +"Old man Rankin worked us like animals. He had a right smart plantation +an' kep' all his Niggers, 'cept one house boy, out in the fiel' +a-workin'. He'd say, 'Niggers is meant to work. That's what I paid my +good money for 'em to do.' + +"He had two daughters an' two sons. Them an' his poor wife had all the +work in the house to do, 'cause he wouldn' waste no Nigger to help 'em +out. His family was as scared o' him as we was. They lived all their +lives under his whip. No Sir! No Sir! There warnt no meaner man in the +world than old man Jim Rankin. + +"My pappy was Allen Rankin an' my mammy was Ca'line. There was twelve o' +us chillun, nine boys an' three girls. My pa was born in Mississippi an' +sol' to Marster Rankin when he was a young man. My mammy was married in +South Carolina an' sol' to Marster Rankin over at Columbia. She had to +leave her family. But she warnt long in gittin' her another man. + +"Oh Lordy! The way us Niggers was treated was awful. Marster would beat, +knock, kick, kill. He done ever'thing he could 'cept eat us. We was +worked to death. We worked all Sunday, all day, all night. He whipped us +'til some jus' lay down to die. It was a poor life. I knows it aint +right to have hate in the heart, but, God Almighty! It's hard to be +forgivin' when I think of old man Rankin. + +"If one o' his Niggers done something to displease him, which was mos' +ever' day, he'd whip him' til he'd mos' die an' then he'd kick him 'roun +in the dust. He'd even take his gun an', before the Nigger had time to +open his mouth, he'd jus' stan' there an' shoot him down. + +"We'd git up at dawn to go to the fiel's. We'd take our pails o' grub +with us an' hang' em up in a row by the fence. We had meal an' pork an' +beef an' greens to eat. That was mos'ly what we had. Many a time when +noontime come an' we'd go to eat our vittals the marster would come +a-walkin' through the fiel with ten or twelve o' his houn' dogs. If he +looked in the pails an' was displeased with what he seen in 'em, he took +'em an' dumped 'em out before our very eyes an' let the dogs grab it up. +We didn' git nothin' to eat then 'til we come home late in the evenin'. +After he left we'd pick up pieces of the grub that the dogs left an' eat +'em. Hongry--hongry--we was so hongry. + +"We had our separate cabins an' at sunset all of us would go in an' shut +the door an' pray the Lord Marster Jim didn' call us out. + +"We never had much clothes 'ceptin' what was give us by the marster or +the mistis. Winter time we never had 'nough to wear nor 'nough to eat. +We wore homespun all the time. The marster didn' think we needed +anything, but jus' a little. + +"We didn' go to church, but Sundays we'd gather 'roun' an' listen to the +mistis read a little out o' the Bible. The marster said we didn' need no +religion an' he finally stopped her from readin' to us. + +"When the war come Marster was a captain of a regiment. He went away an' +stayed a year. When he come back he was even meaner than before. + +"When he come home from the war he stayed for two weeks. The night +'fore he was a-fixin' to leave to go back he come out on his front porch +to smoke his pipe. He was a-standin' leanin' up ag'in' a railin' when +somebody sneaked up in the darkness an' shot him three times. Oh my +Lord! He died the nex' mornin'. He never knowed who done it. I was glad +they shot him down. + +"Sometimes the cavalry would come an' stay at the house an' the mistis +would have to 'tend to 'em an' see that they got plenty to eat an' fresh +horses. + +"I never seen no fightin'. I stayed on the plantation 'til the war was +over. I didn' see none o' the fightin'. + +"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout Jefferson Davis. Lincoln was the man that +set us free. He was a big general in the war. + +"I 'member a song we sung, then. It went kinda like this: + + 'Free at las', + Free at las', + Thank God Almighty + I's free at las'. + Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm.' + +"I only seen the Klu Klux Klan onct. They was a-paradin' the streets +here in Brookhaven. They had a Nigger that they was a-goin' to tar an' +feather. + +"When the mistis tol' us we was free (my pappy was already dead, then) +my mammy packed us chillun up to move. We travelled on a cotton wagon to +Covington, Louisiana. We all worked on a farm there 'bout a year. Then +all 'cept me moved to Mandeville, Louisiana an' worked on a farm there. +I hired out to Mr. Charlie Duson, a baker. Then we moved to a farm above +Baton Rouge, Louisiana an' worked for Mr. Abe Manning. We jus' +travelled all over from one place to another. + +"Then I got a letter from a frien' o' mine in Gainesville, Mississippi. +He had a job for me on a boat, haulin' lumber up the coast to Bay St. +Louis, Pass Christian, Long Beach, Gulfport, an' all them coast towns. I +worked out o' Gainesville on this boat for 'bout two year. I lost track +o' my family then an' never seen 'em no more. + +"In the year 1870 I got the call from the Lord to go out an' preach. I +left Gainesville an' travelled to Summit, Mississippi where another +frien' o' mine lived. I preached the words of the Lord an' travelled +from one place to another. + +"In 1873 I got married an' decided to settle in Brookhaven. I preached +an' all my flock believed in me. I bought up this house an' the two on +each side of it. Here I raised seven chillun in the way o' the Lord. +They is all in different parts of the country now, but I sees one of 'em +ever' now an' then. Las' April the Lord seen fit to put me a-bed an' I +been ailin' with misery ever since. + +"The young folks now-a-days are happy an' don't know' bout war an' +slavery times, but I does. They don't know nothin' an' don't make the +mark in the worl' that the old folks did. Old people made the first +roads in Mississippi. The Niggers today wouldn' know how to act on a +plantation. But they are happy. We was miserable. + +"Slavery days was bitter an' I can't forgit the sufferin'. Oh, God! I +hates 'em, hates 'em. God Almighty never meant for human beings to be +like animals. Us Niggers has a soul an' a heart an' a _min'_. We aint +like a dog or a horse. If all marsters had been good like some, the +slaves would all a-been happy. But marstars like mine ought never been +allowed to own Niggers. + +"I didn' spec nothin' out of freedom 'ceptin' peace an' happiness an' +the right to go my way as I pleased. I prays to the Lord for us to be +free, always. + +"That's the way God Almighty wants it." + + + + +Henri Necaise, Ex-Slave, Pearl River County +FEC +Mrs. C.E. Wells +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +HENRI NECAISE +Nicholson, Mississippi + + +Henri Necaise, ex-slave, 105 years old, lives a half-mile south of +Nicholson on US 11. Uncle Henri lives in a small plank cabin enclosed by +a fence. He owns his cabin and a small piece of land. He is about five +feet ten inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. His sight and hearing are +very good. + +"I was born in Harrison County, 19 miles from Pass Christian, 'long de +ridge road from de swamp near Wolf River. My Marster was Ursan Ladnier. +De Mistis' name was Popone. Us was all French. My father was a white +man, Anatole Necaise. I knowed he was my father, 'cause he used to call +me to him an' tell me I was his oldes' son. + +"I never knowed my mother. I was a slave an' my mother was sol' from me +an' her other chilluns. Dey tol' me when dey sol' 'er my sister was +a-holdin' me in her arms. She was standin' behin' da Big House peekin' +'roun' de corner an' seen de las' of her mother. I seen her go, too. Dey +tell me I used to go to de gate a-huntin' for my mammy. I used to sleep +wid my sister after dat. + +"Jus' lemme study a little, an' I'll tell you 'bout de Big House. It +was 'bout 60 feet long, built o' hewed logs, in two parts. De floors was +made o' clay dey didn' have lumber for floors den. Us lived right close +to de Big House in a cabin. To tell de truf, de fac' o' de business is, +my Marster took care o' me better'n I can take care o' myse'f now. + +"When us was slaves Marster tell us what to do. He say, 'Henri, do dis, +do dat.' An' us done it. Den us didn' have to think whar de nex' meal +comin' from, or de nex' pair o' shoes or pants. De grub an' clo'es give +us was better'n I ever gits now. + +"Lemme think an' counts. My Marster didn' have a lot o' slaves. Dere was +one, two, three, fo', yes'm, jus' fo' o' us slaves. I was de +stockholder. I tended de sheep an' cows an' such lak. My Marster didn' +raise no big crops, jus' corn an' garden stuff. He had a heap o' cattle. +Dey could run out in de big woods den, an' so could de sheeps. He sol' +cattle to N'awlins[FN: New Orleans] an' Mobile, where he could git de +bes' price. Dat's de way folks does now, aint it? Dey sells wherever dey +can git de mos' money. + +"Dey didn' give me money, but, you see, I was a slave. Dey sho' give me +ever'thing else I need, clo'es an' shoes. I always had a-plenty t'eat, +better'n I can git now. I was better off when I was a slave dan I is +now, 'cause I had ever'thing furnished me den. Now I got to do it all +myse'f. + +"My Marster was a Catholic. One thing I can thank dem godly white folks +for, dey raise' me right. Dey taught me out o' God's word, 'Our Father +which art in Heaven.' Ever'body ought-a know dat prayer." + +(Note. In this Wolf River territory in Harrison County, where Uncle +Henri was born and raised, all the settlers were French Catholics, and +it was the scene of early Catholic missions.) + +"I was rais' a Catholic, but when I come here twant no church an' I +joined de Baptis' an' was baptised. Now de white folks lemme go to dey +church. Dey aint no cullud church near 'nough so's I can go. I spec' its +all right. I figgers dat God is ever'where. + +"My Mistis knowed how to read an' write. I don' know 'bout de Marster. +He could keep sto' anyway. Us all spoke French in dem days. I near 'bout +forgit all de songs us used to sing. Dey was all in French anyway, an' +when you don' speak no French for 'bout 60 years, you jus' forgit it. + +"I'se knowed slaves to run away, an' I'se seen 'em whupped. I seen good +marsters an' mean ones. Dey was good slaves an' mean ones. But to tell +de truf, if dey tol' a slave to do anything, den he jus' better do it. + +"I was big' nough in de Civil War to drive five yoke o' steers to Mobile +an' git grub to feed de wimmins an' chilluns. Some o' de mens was +a-fightin' an' some was a-runnin' an' hidin'. I was a slave an' I had to +do what dey tol' me. I carried grub into de swamp to men, but I never +knowed what dey was a-hidin' from." + +(This may be explained by the fact that Uncle Henri was owned by and +lived in a settlement of French People, many of whom probably had no +convictions or feeling of loyalty, one way or the other, during the War +Between the States.) + +"My old Marster had fo' sons, an' de younges' one went to de war an' was +killed. + +"De Yankees come to Pass Christian, I was dere, an' seen 'em. Dey come +up de river an' tore up things as dey went along. + +"I was 31 years old when I was set free. My Marster didn' tell us' bout +bein' free. De way I foun' it out, he started to whup me once an' de +young Marster up an' says, 'You aint got no right to whup him now, he's +free.' Den Marster turnt me loose. + +"It was dem Carpetbaggers dat 'stroyed de country. Dey went an' turned +us loose, jus' lak a passel o' cattle, an' didn' show us nothin' or giv' +us nothin'. Dey was acres an' acres o' lan' not in use, an' lots o' +timber in dis country. Dey should-a give each one o' us a little farm +an' let us git out timber an' build houses. Dey ought to put a white +Marster over us, to show us an' make us work, only let us be free 'stead +o' slaves. I think dat would-a been better 'n turnin' us loose lak dey +done. + +"I lef' my Marster an' went over to de Jordon River, an' dere I stayed +an' worked. I saved my money an' dat giv' me a start. I never touched +it' til de year was winded up. To tell da truf, de fac's o' de matter +is, it was my Marstars kinfolks I was workin' for. + +"I bought me a schooner wid dat money an' carried charcoal to N'awlins. +I done dis for 'bout two years an' den I los' my schooner in a storm off +o' Bay St. Louis. + +"After I los' my schooner, I come here an' got married. Dis was in 1875 +an' I was 43 years old. Dat was my firs' time to marry. I'se got dat +same wife today. She was born a slave, too. I didn' have no chillun, but +my wife did. She had one gal-chil'. She lives at Westonia an' is de +mammy o' ten chillun. She done better'n us done. I'se got a lot o' +gran'-chillun. What does you call de nex' den? Lemme see, great +gran'-chillun, dat's it. + +"I never did b'lieve in no ghos' an' hoodoos an' charms. + +"I never did look for to git nothin' after I was free. I had dat in my +head to git me 80 acres o' lan' an' homestead it. As for de gov'ment +making me a present o' anything, I never thought 'bout it. But jus' now +I needs it. + +"I did git me dis little farm, 40 acres, but I bought it an' paid for it +myse'f. I got de money by workin' for it. When I come to dis country I +dug wells an' built chimneys on' houses. (Once I dug a well 27 feet an' +come to a coal bed. I went through de coal an' foun' water. Dat was on +de Jordon River.) Dat clay chimney an' dis here house has been built 52 +years. I's still livin' in' em. Dey's mine. One acre, I giv' to de Lawd +for a graveyard an' a churchhouse. I wants to be buried dere myse'f. + +"A white lady paid my taxes dis year. I raises a garden an' gits de Old +Age 'Sistance. It aint 'nough to buy grub an' clo'es for me an' de old +woman an' pay taxes, so us jus' has to git 'long de bes' us can wid de +white folks he'p. + +"It aint none o' my business' bout whether de Niggers is better off free +dan slaves. I dont know 'cept 'bout me, I was better off den. I did earn +money after I was free, but after all, you know _money is de root o' all +evil_. Dat what de Good Book say. When I was a slave I only had to obey +my Marster an' he furnish me ever'thing. Once in a while he would whup +me, but what was dat? You can't raise nary chile, white or black, widout +chastisin'. De law didn' low dem to dominize over us, an' dey didn' try. + +"I's gittin' mighty old now, but I used to be pretty spry. I used to go +60 miles out on de Gulf o' Mexico, as 'terpreter on dem big ships dat +come from France. Dat was 'fore I done forgot my French talk what I was +raised to speak. + +"De white folks is mighty good to me. De riches' man in Picayune, he +recognizes me an' gives me two bits or fo' bits. I sho' has plenty o' +good frien's. If I gits out o' grub, I catches me a ride to town, an' I +comes back wid de grub. + +"De good Lawd, he don't forgit me." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[REV. JAMES SINGLETON +Simpson, Mississippi] + + +"My name's James Singleton. I'se a Baptist preacher. I was born in 1856, +but I doan know zactly what date. My mammy was Harr'et Thompson. Her +marster was Marse Daniel Thompson over in Simpson County on Strong River +at a place called Westville. My pappy, he come from South +Ca'lina--Charleston--an' was give to do old folks' darter. His name was +John Black an' he was owned by Mr. Frank Smith over in Simpson. He was +brought down frum South Ca'lina in a wagon 'long wid lots mo'. + +"Me, I was sol' to Marse Harrison Hogg over in Simpson when I was 'bout +six years old, and Marse Hogg, he turn right 'roun', and sol' me an' +sister Harr'et an' brother John nex' day for fo' thousan'. Two thousan' +fo' John, 'cause he's older an' bigger, an' a thousan' fo' Harr'et an' +me. Miss Annie an' Marse Elbert Bell bought us. + +"Marse Elbert had three mo' sides us--makin' six. Us slep' on pallets on +de flo', an' all lived in one long room made out of logs, an' had a dirt +flo' an' dirt chimbly. There was a big old iron pot hangin' over de +hearth, an' us had 'possum, greens, taters, and de lak cooked in it. Had +coon sometimes, too. + +"Marse Elbert, he lived in jes a plain wood house made Califo'nia style, +wid a front room an' a shed room where de boys slep'. Dey had two boys, +Jettie an' William. + +"I reckin dere was 'bout a hun'erd an' sixty acres planted in taters an' +corn, an' dey made whiskey too. Yessum, dey had a 'stillery[FN: +distillery] hid down in de woods where dey made it. + +"My mammy an' pappy was fiel' han's, an' I was mighty little to do so +much. I jes minded de cow pen, made fires in de Big House, an' swep' de +house. When I made de fires, iffen dere wa'nt any live coale lef', we +had to use a flint rock to git it sta'ted. + +"Dere was a bell ringin' every mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock, fer to call de +slaves tar git up an' go to de fiel's. Day wuked 'til sundown. Dey was +fed in de white folks' kitchen, and Cook cooked fer us jes lak she done +fer de whites. De kitchen was built off a piece frum de hous', y'know. + +"Marse never did whup any of us li'l chullun. Miss Annie, she tried once +to whup me 'cause I chunked rocks at her li'l chickens, but mighty +little whuppin' she done. Dere wa'nt no overseer. + +"Chris'mas time, we had two or three days to play, an' had extry food. + +"I seen 'pattyrollers' ridin' 'bout to keep de darkies from runnin' +'roun' widout passes. I never seen 'em whup none but dey tol' us we'd +git twen'y-nine licks iffen we got caught by 'em. I seen darkies git +whuppin's on other plantations--whup 'em half a day sometimes, gen'ly +when dey tried to run away. + +"We didn' have no dancin' dat I 'member, but had plen'y log rollin's. +Had fiddlin', an' all would jine in singin' songs, lak, "Run nigger run, +pattyrollers ketch you, run nigger run, it's breakin' days." I still +fiddle dat chune[FN: tune]. Well, you see, dey jes rolled up all de old +dead logs an' trees in a big pile, and burned it at night. + +"I seen de Yankee sojers when dey passed our house but dey didn' bother +us none. None didn' even stop in. Dey was wearin' blue jackets an' had +gold buttons on caps an' jackets. But when de Confed'rate sojers come +along, dey stopped an' killed a fat cow er two, an' taken de fat hoss +an' lef' a lean one, an' taken ever'thing else dey seen dey wanted. + +"No'm, didn' none of de slaves run off wid dem dat I knows of, an' de +Yankees didn' try to bother us none. Well, afte' de War, Marse Elbert +tol' us dat we was free now, an' pappy come an' got us an' taken us to +live wid de cook on Mr. Elisha Bishop's place, an' he paid Mr. Barren +Bishop to teach us. He taught us out of Webster's Blue Back Spellin' +Book. + +"My pappy, he had a stolen ejucation--'at was cause his mistress back in +South Ca'Line hoped him to learn to read an' write 'fo he lef' there. +You see, in dem days, it was ag'inst de law fer slaves to read. + +"I was glad to be free 'cause I don't b'lieve sellin' an' whuppin' +peoples is right. I certainly does think religion is a good thing, +'cause I'se a Baptist preacher right now, and I live 'bout six miles +from Crystal Springs. I farm too." + + + + +Berry Smith, Ex-slave, Scott County +FEC +W.B. Allison +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +BERRY SMITH +Forest, Mississippi + + +"Uncle Berry" Smith is five feet two or three inches tall. He is +scrupulously neat. He is very independent for his age, which is +calculated at one hundred and sixteen years. He believes the figure to +be correct. His mind is amazingly clear. + +"I was born an' bred in Sumpter County, Alabama, in de prairie lan', six +miles from Gainesville. Dat's where I hauled cotton. It was close to +Livingston, Alabama, where we lived. + +"I was twelve years old when de stars fell. Dey fell late in de night +an' dey lighted up de whole earth. All de chaps was a-runnin' 'roun' +grabbin' for 'em, but none of us ever kotched[FN: caught] one. It's a +wonder some of' em didn' hit us, but dey didn'. Dey never hit de groun' +atall. + +"When dey runned de Injuns out de country, me an' another chap kotched +one o' dem Injun's ponies an hung him up[FN: tied him up] in de grape +vines. He said it was his pony an' I said it was mine. + +"Marse Bob's boy tol' us his daddy was gwine a-whup us for stealin' dat +pony, so we hid out in de cane for two nights. Marse Bob an' his brother +whupped us' til we didn' want to see no more Injuns or dey ponies, +neither. + +"I was born a slave to Old Marse Jim Harper an' I fell to Marse Bob. +Marse Jim bought my pa an' ma from a man by de name o' Smith, an' Pa +kep' de name. Dat's how come I is Berry Smith. + +"Dey didn' have no schools for us an' didn' teach us nothin' but work. +De bull-whip an' de paddle was all de teachin' we got. De white +preachers used to preach to de Niggers sometimes in de white folks' +church, but I didn' go much. + +"We had fun in dem days in spite o' ever'thing. De pranks we used to +play on dem paterollers! Sometimes we tied ropes 'crost de bridge an' de +paterollers'd hit it an' go in de creek. Maybe we'd be fiddlin' an' +dancin' on de bridge (dat was de grown folks, but de chaps 'ud come, +too) an' dey'd say, 'Here come de paterollers!' Den we'd put out. If we +could git to de marster's house, we was all right. Marse Bob wouldn' let +no pateroller come on his place. Marse Alf wouldn', neither. Dey said it +was all right if we could git home widout bein' kotched, but we have to +take dat chance. + +"At de Big House dey had spinnin' wheels an' a loom. Dey made all de +clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun was what dey called de goods. +My ma used to spin an' weave in de loom room at de Big House. + +"Dey was two plantations in de marster's lan' an' dey worked a heap o' +Niggers. I was a house boy an' didn' go to de fiel' much. + +"We had overseers on de place, but dey was jus' hired men. Dey was po' +white folks an' only got paid 'bout three or fo' hund'ed dollars a year. + +"When we lef' Alabama we come to Mississippi. We went to de Denham +place near Garlandsville. We brought eighteen Niggers. We walked a +hund'ed miles an' it took five days an' nights. De women an' little +chaps rid[FN: rode] on de wagons (dey had five mules to de wagon) an' de +men an' de big chaps walked. My pa an' ma come along. + +"We stayed on de Denham place 'bout three years. Den we moved to +Homewood an' stayed five years. I hung de boards for Marse Bob's house +in Homewood. + +"Den we come to Forest. Dey brought all de fam'ly over here--all my +brothers an' sisters. Dey was five of' em--Wash an' East is de two I +'members. All o' us b'longed to de Harper fam'ly. Marse Bob owned us. My +ma an' pa both died here in Forest. + +"I he'ped to build dis house for Marse Bob. I cleaned de lan' an' lef de +trees where he tol' me. He lived in a little old shack whilst we built +de Big House. + +"Mr. M.D. Graham put up de firs' store here an' de secon' was put up by +my marster. + +"I worked in de fiel' some, but mos'ly I was a house servant. I used to +go all over de country a-huntin' eggs an' chickens for de fam'ly on' +count dey was so much comp'ny at de house. + +"A heap o' white folks was good to dey Niggers, jus' as good as dey +could be, but a heap of' em was mean, too. My mistis was good to us an' +so was Marse Jim Harper. He wouldn' let de boys 'buse us while he lived, +but when he died dey was wild an' cruel. Dey was hard taskmasters. We +was fed good three times a day, but we was whupped too much. Dat got +me. I couldn' stan' it. De old marster give us good dinners at +Chris'mus, but de young ones stopped all dat. + +"De firs' train I ever seen was in Brandon. I went dere to carry some +horses for my marster. It sho' was a fine lookin' engine. I was lookin' +at it out of a upstairs window an' when it whistled I'd a-jumped out dat +window if Captain Harper hadn' a-grabbed me. + +"I didn' see no fightin' in de war. When Gen'l Sherman come th'ough +here, he come by Hillsboro. Marse Bob didn' go to de war. He 'listed[FN: +enlisted], but he come right back an' went to gittin' out cross ties for +de railroad. He warnt no sojer. Colonel Harper, dat was Marse Alf, _he_ +was de sojer. He warnt scared o' nothin' or nobody. + +"De Yankees ask me to go to de war, but I tol' 'em, 'I aint no rabbit to +live in de woods. My marster gives me three good meals a day an' a good +house an' I aint a-goin'.' Marse Bob used to feed us fine an' he was +good to us. He wouldn' let no overseer touch his Niggers, but he whupped +us, hisse'f. + +"Den de Yankees tol' me I was free, same as dey was. I come an' tol' +Marse Bob I was a-goin'. He say, 'If you don't go to work, Nigger, you +gwine a-git whupped.' So I run away an' hid out in de woods. De nex' day +I went to Meridian. I cooked for de sojers two months, den I come back +to Forest an' worked spikin' ties for de railroad. + +"I hear'd a heap of talk 'bout Jeff Davis an' Abe Lincoln, but didn' +know nothin' 'bout 'em. We hear'd 'bout de Yankees fightin' to free us, +but we didn' b'lieve it 'til we hear'd 'bout de fightin' at Vicksburg. + +"I voted de 'publican ticket after de surrender, but I didn' bother wid +no politics. I didn' want none of 'em. + +"De Kloo Kluxers[FN: Ku Klux's] was bad up above here, but I never seen +any. I hear'd tell of 'em whuppin' folks, but I don't know nothin' 'bout +it, much. + +"Mos' all de Niggers dat had good owners stayed wid 'em, but de others +lef'. Some of 'em come back an' some didn'. + +"I hear'd a heap o' talk 'bout ever' Nigger gittin forty acres an' a +mule. Dey had us fooled up 'bout it, but I never seen nobody git +nothin'. + +"I hope dey won't be no more war in my time. Dat one was turrible. Dey +can all go dat wants to, but I aint a-goin'. + +"I seen Gen'l Grant at Vicksburg after de war. (He was a little short +man.) All de Niggers went dere for somethin'--me 'mongst 'em. I don't +know what we went for. + +"I took to steamboatin' at Vicksburg 'cause I could cut[FN: place for +storage or shipment] cotton so good. (I could cut cotton now wid a +cotton hook if I warnt so old.) + +"I steamboated twixt New Orleans an' St. Louis on de 'Commonwealth,' a +freight packet, way up yonder in St. Louis. I don't know what country +dat was in. But de rousters had a big fight one night in New Orleans, +shootin' an' cuttin', so I lef'. When I got back to Vicksburg, I quit. + +"I picked cotton in de Delta awhile, but de folks, white an' black, is +too hard. Dey don't care 'bout nothin! I was in Greenville when de +water come. I hear'd a noise like de wind an' I asked dem Niggers, 'Is +dat a storm?' Dey said, 'No, dat's de river comin' th'ough an' you +better come back 'fore de water ketch[FN: catch] you.' I say, 'If it +ketch me it gwine a-ketch me on my way home.' I aint been back since. + +"Den I come back here an' went to farmin' an' I been here ever since. I +bought forty-seven acres an' a nice little house. De house burnt down, +but de white folks built me a better one. Dey's good an' kin' to me. Dey +say I's a good man. + +"My wife was six year old at de surrender. She b'longed to Marse Alf, +but we was free when we married. We had sixteen chillun. Mos' of 'em +lives 'roun 'here. Some in Newton, some in Scott, an' some in Texas. My +wife died two years ago las' March. + +"Marse Bob died right here in dis here house. He died a po' man. If my +old mistis had a-been here she wouldn' a-let' em treat him like dey +done. If I'd a-been here I wouldn' a-let' em done like dat, neither. + +"I been a-livin' by myse'f since my wife died. My son, Oscar, lives on +de lan' an' rents it from me. + +"I don't know what's gwine a-happen to de young folks now-a-days. Dey +know better, but dey's wild an' don't care 'bout nothin'. I aint got no +time to fool wid 'em. Looks like dey don't care 'bout workin' at +nothin'. + +"I been a-workin' all my life, an' I'se seen good times an' bad times. I +loves to work yet. I's gwine out now soon's I git my dinner an' he'p +finish pickin' dat patch o' cotton. I can pick two hund'ed pounds a day +an' I's one hund'ed an' sixteen year old. I picks wid both han's an' +don't have to stoop much. My back don't never ache me atall. My mammy +teached me to pick cotton. She took a pole to me if I didn' do it right. +I been a-pickin ever since. I'd ruther pick cotton dan eat, any day. + +"But I'se seen enough. I's jus' a-waitin' for de call to meet all my +folks in Heaven. Dey's a better place dan dis an' I's a-tryin' to treat +ever'body right so's I can git to go to it. + +"I's listenin' hard for dat call an' I know it won't be long a-comin'." + + + + +Susan Snow, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County +FEC +W.B. Allison +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +SUSAN SNOW +Meridian, Mississippi + + +"Aunt Sue" Snow, a rather small and profusely wrinkled 87-year-old +ex-slave, lives in the Negro quarters of the South Side in Meridian. + +In spite of her wild escapades, her reputation for honesty and +reliability is high and she carries and exhibits with pride numerous +letters attesting that fact. + +She often finds it necessary to stand and act the story she is telling. +Her memory is amazing and she turns with equal readiness to copious +quotations from the Scripture and other pious observations to amusing +but wholly unprintable anecdotes of her somewhat lurid past. + +"I was born in Wilcox County, Alabama, in 1850. W.J. Snow was my old +marster. He bought my ma from a man named Jerry Casey. Venus was her +name, but dey mos'ly called her 'Venie.' + +"I's workin' now for one o' my old folks. I can't work much--jus' +carries things to 'er an' such. She's my old mistis' own daughter an' +she's got gran'chillun grown an' married. All de chillun dat's livin' is +older'n me. + +"When her pa bought my mammy, I was a baby. Her pa owned a heap o' +Niggers. I's de only one still hangin' aroun'. + +"My ma was a black African an' she sho' was wild an' mean. She was so +mean to me I couldn' b'lieve she was my mammy. Dey couldn' whup her +widout tyin' her up firs'. Sometimes my marster would wait 'til de nex' +day to git somebody to he'p tie her up, den he'd forgit to whup 'er. Dey +used to say she was a cunger an' dey was all scared of 'er. But my ma +was scared o' cungers, too. + +"All de Niggers on de place was born in de fam'ly an' was kin, 'cept my +ma. She tol' me how dey brought her from Africa. You know, like we say +'President' in dis country, well dey call him 'Chief' in Africa. Seem +like de Chief made 'rangements wid some men an' dey had a big goober +grabbin' for de young folks. Dey stole my ma an' some more an' brung 'em +to dis country. + +"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout havin' no pa. You know, honey, in dem +days husbands an' wives didn' b'long to de same folks. My ma say her +husband was so mean dat after us lef' Alabama she didn' want to marry no +more. + +"A man didn' git to see his wife 'cept twict a week. Dat was Wednesday +an' Satu'd'y night. + +"De women had to walk a chalk line. I never hear'd tell o' wives runnin' +'roun' wid other men in dem days. + +"I was raised in Jasper County. Marster bought lan' from ever'body +'roun' 'til he had a big plantation. He had Niggers, horses, mules, +cows, hogs, an' chickens. He was a rich man, den. + +"Ever' Nigger had a house o' his own. My ma never would have no board +floor like de res' of' em, on' count she was a African--only dirt. (Dey +say she was 108 year old when she died.) + +"Us went to church wid de white folks if us wanted to. Dey didn' make +us. I didn' go much, 'cause I didn' have 'ligion, den. Us didn' have no +schoolin'. Us could go to school wid de white chillun if us wanted to, +but didn' nobody teach us. I's educated, but I aint educated in de +books. I's educated by de licks an' bumps I got. + +"My white folks was good people an' didn' whup nobody, 'less dey needed +it. Some o' de Niggers was sho' 'nough bad. Dey used to take de +marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got +dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course, +Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour +after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he +didn'. + +"When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for +deyse'ves. Dey called 'im in to 'scribe for us. I was snake-bit when I +was eight year old. Dey used to be a medicine named 'lobelia.' De doctor +give me dat an' whiskey. My ma carried me up to de Big House ever' +mornin' an' lef' me, an' carried me home at night. Old Mis' 'ud watch +over me in de day time. + +"My young marster tol' me dat when I got to be ten year old, I'd have a +snake coiled up on my liver. Dat scared me mos' to death 'til I was past +ten year old. + +"Dey made all de Niggers' clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun, dey +called it. Dey had spinnin' wheels an' cards an' looms at de Big House. +All de women spinned in de winter time. + +"I never knowed what it was to wear more dan one garment, 'til I was +mos' grown. I never had a pair o' shoes o' my own. Old Mis' let me wear +her'n sometimes. Dey had shoes for de old folks, but not for de chillun. + +"I got more whuppin's dan any other Nigger on de place, 'cause I was +mean like my mammy. Always a-fightin' an' scratchin' wid white an' +black. I was so bad Marster made me go look at de Niggers dey hung to +see what dey done to a Nigger dat harm a white man. + +"I's gwine tell dis story on myse'f. De white chillun was a-singin' dis +song: + + 'Jeff Davis, long an' slim, + Whupped old Abe wid a hick'ry limb. + + Jeff Davis is a wise man, Lincoln is a fool, + Jeff Davis rides a gray, an' Lincoln rides a mule.' + +I was mad anyway, so I hopped up an' sung dis one: + + 'Old Gen'l Pope had a shot gun, + Filled it full o' gum, + Killed 'em as dey come. + + Called a Union band, + Make de Rebels un'erstan' + To leave de lan', + Submit to Abraham.' + +"Old Mis' was a-standin' right b'hin' me. She grabbed up de broom an' +laid it on me. She made _me_ submit. I caught de feathers, don't you +forgit it. + +"I didn' know it was wrong. I'd hear'd de Niggers sing it an' I didn' +know dey was a-singin' in dey sleeves. I didn' know nothin' 'bout Abe +Lincoln, but I hear'd he was a-tryin' to free de Niggers an' my mammy +say she want to be free. + +"De young folks used to make up a heap o' songs, den. Dey'd +decompose[FN: compose] dey own songs an' sing' em. I never will forgit +one song dey sung when dey buried anybody. It made Old Marster, Mistis, +an' all of' em cry. Us chillun cried, too. It went like dis: + + 'My mother prayed in de wilderness, + In de wilderness, + In de wilderness. + My mother prayed in de wilderness. + An' den I'm a-goin' home. + + Chorus: + + Den I'm a-goin' home, + Den I'm a-goin' home. + + We'll all make ready, Lawd, + An' den I'm a-goin' home. + + She plead her cause in de wilderness, + In de wilderness, + In de wilderness. + She plead her cause in de wilderness. + An' den I'm a-goin' home.' + + (Repeat chorus) + +"Old Aunt Hannah fell to my marster from his daddy. She had twelve +chillun a-workin' on de place. De oldes' was named Adam an' de littlest +was named Eve. She had two twins what was named Rachel an' Leah. Dey +nussed my mistis' two twins. Dey kep' one a-nussin' mos' all de time. + +"My ma was de cause o' my marster a-firin' all de overseers. (Dey blamed +ever'thing on her 'cause she was de only bought Nigger.) Marster say she +was a valuable Nigger, but she was so mean he was afraid dey'd kill her. +He say, 'She'll work widout no watchin' an' overseers aint nothin', +nohow.' + +"Dey was a white man--I aint lyin'--I know him an' I seen him. He had +Nigger houn's an' he made money a-huntin' runaway Niggers. His own +Niggers kilt 'im. Dey hung 'em for it. Two was his Niggers an' one +b'long to somebody else. + +"My young marster used to work in de fiel' wid us. He'd boss de Niggers. +Dey called 'im Bud, but us all called 'im 'Babe.' Honey, I sho' did love +dat boy. + +"When de war come dey used to tease him an' say, 'Bud, why don't you go +to de war?' Dey laughed an' teased 'im when he went. But twant no +laughin' when he come home on a furlough an' went back. Dey was cryin' +den. An' well dey mought[FN: might] cry, 'cause he never come back no +more'. He was kilt in de war. + +"Endurin' de war, de white folks made dey clo'es same as de Niggers. Old +Mis' made dye an' dyed de thread. She made pretty cloth. + +"My ma was de firs' to leave de plantation after de surrender. All de +other Niggers had a contrac' to stay, but she didn'. She went to Newton +County an' hired out. She never wanted to stay in one place, nohow. If +she had a crop ha'f made an' somebody made her mad, she'd up an' leave +it an' go some'r's else. + +"You know, dey was mighty strict, 'bout den, wid cullud folks, an' white +people, too. De Kloo Kluxes was out nights. I hear'd tell 'bout 'em +whuppin' people. But dey never bothered me. + +"Dey was speakers gwine aroun', tellin' de Niggers what dey was gwine +a-git. Dey never got nothin' to my knowledge, 'cept de gov'ment let 'em +homestead lan'. My ma homesteaded a place close to Enterprise, Scott +County, but she got mad an' lef' it like she always done. + +"She was a-gittin' long in years afore she got 'ligion. (She was good to +me after dat.) She couldn' learn de Lawd's Prayer, but she used to pray, +'Our Father, which are in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name. Thy mercy, Lawd, +You've showed to others; That mercy show to me. Amen.' She went to res' +in it, too. + +"I went to Enterprise, den to Meridian, nussin' (wet-nussin' when I +could) an' workin' out. I never worked in de fiel', if I could he'p it. +(Old Mis' hired me out as a nuss firs' when I was eight year old.) + +"When I come to Meridian, I cut loose. I's tellin' de truf! I's a woman, +but I's a prodigal. I used to be a old drunkard. My white folks kep' +tellin' me if I got locked up one more time dey wouldn' pay my fine. But +dey done it ag'in an' ag'in. + +"De Niggers called me 'Devil.' I was a devil 'til I got 'ligion. I warnt +baptized 'til 1887. Den I foun' peace. I had a vision. I tol' it to a +white lady an' she say, 'Susie, dat's 'ligion a-callin' you.' (But you +know, honey, white folks' 'ligion aint like Niggers' 'ligion. I know a +woman dat couldn' 'member de Lawd's Prayer, an' she got 'ligion out o' +prayin', 'January, February, March'.) I didn' join de church 'til 1891, +after I had a secon' vision. I's a member in good standin' now. I done +put all my badness b'hin' me, 'cept my temper. I even got dat under more +control. + +"I didn' used to be scared o' cunjers. I's scared now, 'cause I had it +done to me. I want to bed well an' healthy an' de nex' nornin' I couldn' +git up atall. I's tellin de truf. A cullud man done it. He was a +crippled man, an' mean as he could be. I was good to him, too. He tol' +me' bout it, hisse'f: + +"'He went to de graveyard an' got some o' de meanes' dirt he could fin' +(I don't know how he knowed which was de meanes' grave) an' put it under +my doorsill.' He sho' fix' me. I ask him how come he done it to me an' I +been so good to him. He smile kinda tickle-lak an' say, 'It's a good +thing you was good to me, 'cause, if you hadn' a-been you'd a-been dead +an' in yo' grave by now.' + +"I aint got nary soul what's kin to me dat I knows of. I don't want none +of 'em comin' to me now an' a-sayin', 'Don't you 'member yo' own +cousin?' My white folks he'p me when I needs it. + +"Dese young folks. Shucks! Chile, dey's worse'n what I was, only dey's +more slyer. Dat's all. + +"I's glad I'se got 'ligion, 'cause when I dies I's gwine to de 'Good +Place.'" + + + + +Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County +FEC +Edith Wyatt Moore +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +ISAAC STIER +Natchez, Mississippi + + +"Miss, my name is Isaac Stier, but folks calls me 'Ike.' I was named by +my pappy's young Marster an' I aint never tol' nobody all o' dat name. +It's got twenty-two letters in it. It's wrote but in de fam'ly Bible. +Dat's how I knows I'll be one hund'ed years old if I lives 'til de turn +o' de year. I was born in Jefferson County 'tween Hamburg an' Union +Church. De plantation joined de Whitney place an' de Montgomery place, +too. I b'longed to Marse Jeems Stowers. I don't rightly 'member how many +acres my Marster owned, but 'twas a big plantation wid eighty or ninety +head o' grown folks workin' it. No tellin' how many little black folks +dey was. + +"My mammy was Ellen Stier an' my pappy was Jordon Stier. He was bought +to dis country by a slave dealer from Nashville, Tennessee. Dey traveled +all de way through de Injun Country on afoot. Dey come on dat Trace +road. Twant nothin' but a Injun Trail. + +"When dey got to Natchez de slaves was put in de pen 'tached to de slave +markets. It stood at de forks o' St. Catherine Street an' de Liberty +road. Here dey was fed an' washed an' rubbed down lak race hosses. Den +dey was dressed up an' put through de paces dat would show off dey +muscles. My pappy was sol' as a twelve year old, but he always said he +was nigher twenty. + +"De firs' man what bought him was a preacher, but he only kep' 'im a +little while. Den he was sol' to Mr. Preacher Robinson. He was a +Methodis'. + +"De slaves was well treated when dey got sick. My Marster had a standin' +doctor what he paid by de year. Dey was a horspital building near de +quarters an' a good old granny woman to nuss de sick. Dey was five or +six beds in a room. One room was for mens an' one for wimmins. Us doctor +was name Richardson an' he tended us long after de war. He sho' was a +gent'man an' a powerful good doctor. + +"Us had a overseer on de place, but he warnt mean lak I'se heard o' +other folks havin'. He was Mr. William Robinson. He was good to +ever'body, both white an' cullud. Folks didn' min' workin' for him, +'cause, he spoke kin'. But dey dassen' sass 'im. He was poor. My pappy +b'longed to his pa, Mr. John Robinson. Dat was a nice fam'ly wid sho' +'nough 'ligion. Whilst dey warnt rich, dey had learnin'. + +"As a little tike I wore long slip-lak shirts. When dey sont me to town +I put on britches an' stuffed de tail o' my slip in 'em so's it pass' +for a shirt. I always lived in de Big House an' played wid de white +chillun. I sorta looked after' em. I carried 'em to school. Den whilst +dey was in school I roamed de woods a-huntin'. Sometimes I'd git a big +bag o' game, mos'ly used to feed de slaves. + +"My mistis was Miss Sarah Stowers an' she teached me how to read. She +teached me how to be mannerly, too. On church days I driv'[FN: drove] de +carriage. I was proud to take my folks to meetin'. I always set in de +back pew an' heard de preachin' de same as dey did. + +"De bes' times I can 'member always come 'roun' de Fourth o' July. Dat +was always de beginnin' o' camp-meetin'. Aint nothin' lak dat in dese +days. + +"Ever'body what had any standin' went. Dey cooked up whole trunks full +o' good things t'eat an' driv' over to de camp groun's. De preacher had +a big pavilion covered wid sweet-gum branches an' carpeted wid sawdust. +Folks had wagons wid hay an' quilts whar de men-folks slep'. De ladies +slep' in little log houses an' dey took dey feather beds wid' em. I +always driv' de carriage for my white folks. Whilst dey was a-worshipin' +I'd slip 'roun' an' tas' out o' dey basket. Ever' day I'd eat 'til I was +ready to bus'. One day I got so sick I thought I'd pop wide open. I +crawled down to de spring an' washed my face in col' water, but I kep' +gittin' worse an' worse. Den somebody called out: 'Captain Stier, yo' +Nigger's a-dyin'!' My marster called de doctor. He sho' was shamed in +public, 'cause, he knowed pos'tive I'd been a-pilferin' in dem baskets. +Dem sho' was good old days. I'd love to live' em over ag'in. + +"Us slaves mos'ly sung hymns an' sa'ms.[TR: footnote indicated but none +found] But I' member one song' bout a frog pond an' one 'bout 'Jump, Mr. +Toad.' I's too wordless to sing 'em now, but dey was funny. Us danced +plenty, too. Some o' de men clogged an' pidgeoned, but when us had +dances dey was real cotillions, lak de white folks had. Dey was always +a fiddler an', on Chris'mus an' other holidays, de slaves was' lowed to' +vite dey sweethearts from other plantations. I use to call out de +figgers: 'Ladies, sasshay, Gents to de lef, now all swing.' Ever'body +lak my calls an' de dancers sho' moved smooth an' pretty. Long after de +war was over de white folks would 'gage me to come' roun' wid de band +an' call de figgers at all de big dances. Dey always paid me well. + +"Old Mis' 'ud let us cook a gran' supper an' Marse 'ud slip us some +likker. Dem suppers was de bes' I ever et. Sometimes dey'd be wil' +turkey, fried fish, hot corn pone, fresh pork ham, baked yams, chitlins, +pop corn, apple pie, pound cake, raisins, an' coffee. Law, Miss! de +folks now-a-days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin', nowhow. + +"When de big war broke out I sho' stuck by my marster. I fit[FN: fought] +de Yankees same as he did. I went in de battles 'long side o' him an' +both fit under Marse Robert E. Lee. I reckon ever'body has heard 'bout +him. I seen more folks dan anybody could count. Heaps of 'em was all +tore to pieces an' cryin' to God to let 'em die. I toted water to dem in +blue de same as dem in gray. Folks wouldn' b'lieve de truf if I was to +tell all I knows 'bout dem ungodly times. + +"Fore de war I never knowed what it was to go empty. My marster sho' set +a fine table an' fed his people de highes'. De hongriest I ever been was +at de Siege o' Vicksburg. Dat was a time I'd lak to forgit. De folks et +up all de cats an' dogs an' den went to devourin' de mules an' hosses. +Even de wimmin an' little chillun was a-starvin'. Dey stummicks was +stickin' to dey backbones. Us Niggers was sufferin' so us took de +sweaty hoss blankets an' soaked 'em in mudholes where de hosses tromped. +Den us wrung' em out in buckets an' drunk dat dirty water for +pot-likker. It tasted kinda salty an' was strength'nin', lak weak soup. + +"I tell you, dem Yankees took us by starvation. Twant a fair fight. Dey +called it a vict'ry an' bragged 'bout Vicksburg a-fallin', but hongry +folks aint got no fight lef' in 'em. Us folks was starved into +surrenderin'. + +"De slaves spected a heap from freedon dey didn' git. Dey was led to +b'lieve dey would have a easy time--go places widout passes--an have +plenty o' spendin' money. But dey sho' got fooled. Mos' of 'em didn' +fin' deyse'ves no better off. Pussonally, I had a harder time after de +war dan I did endurin' slav'ry. + +"De Yankees passed as us frien's. Dey made big promises, but dey was +poor reliance. Some of' em meant well towards us, but dey was mistol' +'bout a heap o' things. Dey promised us a mule an' forty acres o' lan'. +Us aint seen no mule yet. Us got de lan' all right, but twant no +service. Fac' is, 'twas way over in a territory where nothin' 'ud grow. +I didn' know nothin' 'bout farmin', nowhow, I'd always been a coachman +an' play companion to de white chillun. + +"De war was over in May 1865, but I was captured at Vicksburg an' hel' +in jail 'til I 'greed to take up arms wid de Nawth. I figgered dat was +'bout all I could do, 'cause dey warnt but one war at Vicksburg an' dat +was over. I was all de time hopin' I could slip off an' work my way +back home, but de Yankees didn' turn me loose 'til 1866. + +"Den I worked in a saloon in St. Louis. Dat was 'bout all I knowed to +do. All de time I was a-cravin' to come back to Mississippi. It sho' +suits my tas' better'n anywhere I'se ever been. + +"When I landed back home my white folks welcome me. After awhile I +married a gal what was real smart 'bout farmin' an' chicken raisin'. So +us share-cropped an' raised a fam'ly. Somehow us always scrapped along. +Sometimes it was by de hardes', but us always had plenty t'eat. + +"All de cullud folks what lived to git back home took to de lan' ag'in. +If dey marster was dead dey went to his frien's an' offered to +share-crop. Dey was all plumb sick o' war. Is sho' is ongodly business. +I never will forgit de fearsome sight o' seein' men die 'fore dey time. +War sho' is de debbil's own work. + +"De Klu Klux Klan didn' bother me none. Course, I was feared of' em at +firs', but I soon learnt dat long as I b'haved myse'f an' tended my +business dey warnt after me. Dey sho' disastered dem what meddled wid de +white folks. Nobody but a smart Alec would a-done dat. Only Niggers +huntin' trouble mixed into white folks bus'ness. Onct or twict I seen +Klu Klux's ridin' by, but dey always traveled fas' an' I kep' my +mouf[FN: mouth] shut. + +"After de war my marster come back home. De fences was gone, de cattle +was gone, de money an' de Niggers was gone, too. On top o' all dat de +whole country was over-run an' plumb took over by white trash. It was +cautious times. + +"After awhile, robbers an' low down trash got to wearin' robes an' +pretendin' dey was Klu Klux's. Folks called dem de 'white caps.' Dey was +vicious, an' us was more scared of 'em dan us'd ever been o' de Klan. +When dey got likkered up de debbil sho' was turnt loose. + +"Mr. Jefferson Davis was pretty good' bout some things. But if he hadn' +a-been mulish he could-a 'cepted de proposition Mr. Abe Lincum made 'im. +Den slav'ry would-a lasted always. But he flew into a huff an' swore dat +he'd whip de Yankees wid corn stalks. Dat made Mr. Lincum mad, so he sot +about to free de slaves. + +"Mr. Lincum was a good man, but dey tells me he was poor an' never cut +much figger in his clothes. Dat's why he never did un'erstan' how us +felt' bout us white folks. It takes de quality to un'erstan' such +things. + +"Right now, I loves my marster an' his wife in de grave. Dey raised me +an' showed me kindness all dey lives. I was proud of 'em. At de present +time I's under treatment o' young Dr. Stowers, my marster's gran'chil'. +I trusts him an' he is sho' good to me. + +"I rents a place on Providence Plantation 'bout three miles south o' +Natchez. De trip to Natchez in a rickety old wagon is mos' too much in +de hot weather. My heart's mos' wore out. I can't las' long, 'cause I's +had a heap sposure[FN: exposure]. + +"I's jus' a bag o' bones now, but onct I stood nearly six feet in my +stockings an' weighed 'bout one hundred an' eighty pounds. I was well +muscled, too. Now I's gittin' kinda gray an' gittin' bald at de same +time. Black folks lak me don't hardly ever git bald. + +"I's gittin' real feeble. De doctor say I got a bad heart. Sometimes I +jus' has to set on de curb an' res' myse'f a spell. I gits kinda +windless when I thinks 'bout all I been through. + +"My wife is been dead 'bout seventeen years an' my chillun is so +scattered dat I don't know where dey is. De folks I stays wid is +powerful good to me an' sees after me same as dey was my own. I reckon I +don't need nothin else. + +"Dis generation aint got much sense. Dey's tryin' to git somewheres too +fas'. None of 'em is sat'fied wid plain livin'. Dey wants too much. + +"Nobody needs more dan dey can use, nohow." + + + + +JANE SUTTON +Gulfport, Mississippi + + +Jane Sutton, ex-slave, is 84 years old. She is 5 feet, 6 inches tall and +weighs 130 pounds. She is what the Negroes themselves call a +"brown-skin." + +"I was born in Simpson County, near old Westville, on a big farm what +b'long to Marse Jack Berry. I was 12 years old when de surrender come, +so my ole Mis' say. Her name was 'Mis Ailsey an' all us cullud folks +call her 'Ole Mi's. She an' Old Marster had twelve chillun: Marthy, +'Lizabeth, Flavilia, Mary, Jack, Bill, Denson, Pink, Tally, Thomas, +Albert, and Frank. + +"My pappy's name was Steve Hutchins. He b'long to de Hutchins what live +down near Silver Creek. He jus' come on Satu'd'y night an' us don' see +much of 'im. Us call him 'dat man.' Mammy tol' us to be more 'spectful +to 'im 'cause he was us daddy, but us aint care nothin' 'bout 'im. He +aint never brung us no candy or nothin'. + +"My mammy was name Lucy Berry. She always go by de white folks name what +she live wid. She aint never marry. She had fo' boys an' three girls. +Dey was name Delia, Sarah, Ella, Nathan, Isom, Anderson, an' Pleas. She +work in de fiel' an Old Marster say she's de only woman on de place what +could plow lak a man. + +"I 'members my gran'ma, too. Us always call her 'Granny.' She say dey +stole her back in Virginny an' brung 'er to Mississippi an' sol' her to +Marse Berry. Her name was Hannah. She was my mammy's Mammy. I don' +'member nothin' 'bout my pappy's folks 'cause I never seen none of' em. + +"Old Marster was a rich man for dat day. He had a sawmill, a cotton gin, +an' a gris' mill. Us always had plenty t'eat an' wear. Dey spun an' +weaved dey own cloth an' made us clo'es out-a it. + +"I can jus' see de white folk's house now. It was a big house, nice an' +clean, but twant painted. It had a row o' rooms 'cross dis way an' +a-nother row dat way wid a hall between. Dey had plenty o' rooms for all +dem boys an' gals. Some of 'em was 'bout grown. De quarters[FN: slave +quarters] was in de back o' de house. De cook's house was closes' to de +Big House, den nex' was Granny's house where us stayed. Den come a long +row way down to de back fence. + +"Dey didn' have no overseer or driver. Dey was 'nough o' dem boys to +look after de work an' Old Marster say he don' need no overseer to look +after his slaves. + +"My white folks was all Baptis' an' dey made us go to church, too. De +church was called de Strong River Church. Dey had big baptisin's. I +'members when I joined de church. De white folks preacher baptised us in +de creek what run from Marse Berry's mill pond. I was dressed up in a +white lowell slip. When us dress' up in Sund'y clo'es us had caliker[FN: +calico] dresses. Dey sho' was pretty. I 'members a dress now dat Old +Marster bought for my granny. It was white an' yaller, an' it was de +prettiest thing I ever seen. + +"Us white folks was good to us. Dey warnt always a-beatin' an' +a-knockin' us 'roun'. De truf is you couldn' fin' a scar on nary one o' +us. 'Course, some times dey whup us, but dey didn' gash us lak some o' +de old marsters did dey Niggers. + +"When Old Marster died I didn' know nothin' bout him bein' sick. He took +a cramp colic in de night an' was dead 'fore mornin'. I hear somebody +a-cryin' at de Big House an' Granny tol' us dat Old Marster done die in +de night. Dey had a big fun'al an' all de folks come. De men carried him +to de graveyard by de church. Dey didn' have no hearses dem days. Twant +far to de graveyard so dey jus' toted de coffin to whar dey buried 'im. +Dey put flowers in cups an' vases on de grave, so's dey wouldn' wilt. + +"Us was all sorry when Old Marster died, I cried 'cause I said, 'Now us +won' git no more candy.' He used to bring us candy whan he went to town. +Us'd be lookin' for 'im when he come home. He'd say, 'Whars all my +little Niggers?' Den us'd come a-runnin' an' he'd han' it to us out-a +his saddle bags. It was mos'ly good stick candy. + +"I 'members de paterollers. Whenever de cullud folks would slip off an' +have dey frolics dout gittin' a pass from Old Marster de paterollers +would come. Lots-a time dey'd come while us was a-dancin' an' a-havin' a +big time. Dem paterollers would swarm in de room lak a lot o' bees. Fore +anybody knowed it, dey'd begin grabbing at de mens. If dey didn' have +dey pass wid 'em dey took 'em down in de woods an' whup 'em for runnin' +off wid out asking dey white folks. Dey didn' bother de wimnins much. +De wimmins mos' always got away while dey was catchin' de mens. + +"Onct I slipped off wid another gal an' went to a party dout asking Old +Mis'. When dem Night Riders come dat night, de Niggers was a-runnin' an' +a-dodgin' an' a-jumpin' out-a winders lak dey was scairt to death. I +runs too, me an' dat other gal. I fell down an' tore my dress, but I +warnt studyin' dat dress. I knows dat dem white folks had dat strap an' +I's gittin' 'way fas' as I could. + +"When Miss 'Lizabeth got married to Mr. Ras Laird, dey had a big weddin' +an' all dey folks come to see 'em married. Den dey went to live in +Rankin County an' took me wid 'em. Old Marster had give me to Miss +'Lizabeth. + +"I 'members when de Yankees come to de house. Us heard dey was comin', +so us hid all de hams an' shoulders up in de lof' o' de Big House. Dey +didn' git much. Dey was so mad dey jus' tore up some of Old Mis' clo'es +what was in de wardrobe. Us was sho' scairt of 'em. + +"I 'members dey promise to give de cullud folks all kin' o' things. Dey +never give 'em nothin' dat I know's about. Us was jus' turnt loose to +scratch for us ownse'ves. Us was glad to stay on wid de white folks, +'cause dey was de bes' frien's us had. I don' know nobody what got a +thing 'cept what Old Marster an' Old Mis' give 'em. + +"After freedom I went back to 'Old Mis'. I walked all de way back from +Rankin County. It was a long way, but I wanted to see Old Mis' an' my +Mammy an' my brothers an' sisters. + +"When de surrender come by pappy come to git me. I didn' wan'-a go. I +tol' 'im I's gwine stay wid Old Mis'. So he goes an' gits de sheriff an' +takes me anyway. I runned away twict an' come back to Old Mis'. He +whupped me de firs' time, but de nex' time I hid from him an' he couldn' +catch me. He went back home an' 'lemme 'lone. Den I went wid my mammy to +live wid Marse Tally Berry. He was one of Old Marster's sons. Dey used +to come an' tell me dat dat old Nigger was gwine kill me if I didn' come +wid him. But I jus' stayed hid out till he went away. + +"I spec' all my white folks is dead now. I wish I could go back to 'em +now. Dey help me. Dey was good to us after de War was over. Dis one +would want me to live wid dem, den de other one would want me to live +wid dem. Sometimes I quit one an' go live wid de other one. All of 'em +sho' did treat me good. I's havin' a heap harder time now dan I ever had +in slav'ry times. I sho' is. + +"Dey raised de young folks better dem days. Dey learnt 'em to work. Dey +didn' min' work. Today dey don' care 'bout nothin' but havin' a good +time. Dey ain' studyin' 'bout no hereafter, neither. + +"De Relief give me a little somethin' t'eat an' wear one time, but dey +aint never give me no money. I's old an' needy, but I's trustin' de Lord +an' de good white folks to he'p me now. All de white folks I used to +work for has moved away from town now. I don' have nobody to look to but +my daughter. She looks after me de bes' she can. Dey is some neighbor +wimmins dat comes an' sets wid me sometimes. + +"I's gittin' deaf an' I aint got a tooth lef' in my head. I's too feeble +to he'p make a livin', but maybe I'll git dat Old Age Pension 'fore I +die." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[MOLLIE WILLIAMS +Terry, Mississippi] + +[Illustration: Mollie Williams] + + +Mollie Williams, who lives two miles west of Terry, Miss., tells her +story: + +"Iffen I lives' til nex' September 15, I'll be eighty fo'! I was born +'bout three miles frum Utica on de Newsome place. Me an' brudder Hamp +b'longed to Marse George Newsome. Marse George was named afte' George +Washington up in Virginny whar he come frum. Miss Margurite was our +mistiss. My mammy? Well, I'll have to tell you now 'bout her. + +"You see, Marse George come off down here frum Virginny lak young folks +venturin' 'bout, an' mar'ied Mis' Margurite an' wanted to start up +livin' right over thar near Utica whar I was born. But Marse George was +po', an' he sho' foun' out ye can't make no crop wid'out'n a start of +darkies, so he writ home to Virginny fer to git some darkies. All dey +sont him was fo' mens an' old Aunt Harriet fer to cook. + +"One day Marse George an' his Uncle, Mr. John Davenport--now thar was a +rich man fer ye, why, he had two carri'ge drivers--dey rid over to Grand +Gulf whar dey was a sellin' slabes offen de block an' Mr. John tol' +Marse George to pick hisself out a pair of darkies to mate so's he could +git hisself a start of darkies fer to chop his cotton an' like. So Marse +George pick out my pappy fust. My pappy come frum North Ca'lina. Den he +seen my mammy an' she was big an' strengthy an' he wanted her pow'ful +bad. But lak I tol' you, he didn' have 'nough money to buy 'em both, so +his Uncle John say he'd buy mammy an' den he would loan her over to +Marse George fer pappy. An' de fust chile would be Mr. John's, an' de +secon' Marse George's, an' likewise. Mammy was a Missourian name Marylin +Napier Davenpo't. An' pappy was name Martin Newsome. + +"Darkies libed in li'l old log houses wid dirt chimbleys. Dat is, de +rest of de darkies did. Dey kep' me up in de Big House, bein' mammyless +lak. Mos'ly I slep' in de trun'le bed wid Miss Mary Jane till I got so +bad dey had to mek a pallet on de flo' fer me. Dey was Mr. Bryant, Mr. +A.D., Miss Martha, Miss Ann, Miss Helen, Miss Mary Jane, an' Mr. George, +all b'longin' to Marse George an' Miss Margurite. + +"Mammy was a fiel' han'. She could plow an' wuk in de fiel's jes' lak a +man, an' my pappy, he done de same. Mammy, she hated house wuk--lak me. +I jes natu'lly loves to be out runnin' roun' in de fiel's an' 'bout. I +neber lak'd to do wuk roun' de house none t'all. + +"We wo' lowell clo'es an' brass toed brogans. Miss Margurite made our +dresses an' lak, an' afte' Aunt Harriet died, she done de cookin' too +fer all de slabes an' de fambly. She fix up dinner fer de fiel' han's, +an' I taken it to 'em. Marse George had old powder horn he blowed +mornin's far to git de darkies up 'fo day good, an' dey come in 'bout +sundown. + +"We growed corn an' taters an' cotton plentiful, an' we had gran' +orchids[FN: orchids] an' penders[FN: peanuts]. Den, sheeps an' hogs an' +cows an' lak. + +"Miss Margurite had a piany, a 'cordian, a flutena, an' a fiddle. She +could play a fiddle good as a man. Law, I heerd many as three fiddles +goin' in dat house many a time, an' I kin jes see her li'l old fair +han's now, playin' jes as fast as lightnin' a chune[FN: tune] 'bout + + +[HW: Song] + + 'My father he cried, my mother she cried, + I wasn' cut out fer de army. + O, Capt'in Gink, my hoss me think, + But feed his hoss on co'n an' beans + An s'port de gals by any means! + 'Cause I'm a Capt'in in de army.' + +"All us chullun begged ter play dat an' we all sing an' dance--_great +goodness_! + +"One song I 'member mammy singin': + + +[HW: Song] + + 'Let me nigh, by my cry, + Give me Jesus. + You may have all dis world, + But give me Jesus.' + +"Singin' an' shoutin', she had 'ligion all right. She b'longed to Old +Farrett back in Missouri. + +"We didn' git sick much, but mammy made yeller top tea[FN: dog fennel] +fer chills an' fever an' give us. Den iffen it didn' do no good, Miss +Margurite called fer Dr. Hunt lak she done when her own chullun got +sick. + +"None of de darkies on dat place could read an' write. Guess Miss Helen +an' Miss Ann would'a learned me, but I was jes so bad an' didn' lak to +set still no longer'n I had to. + +"I seen plenty of darkies whupped. Marse George buckled my mammy down +an' whupped her 'cause she run off. Once when Marse George seen pappy +stealin' a bucket of 'lasses an' totin' it to a gal on 'nother place, he +whupped him but didn' stake him down. Pappy tol' him to whup him but not +to stake him--he'd stan' fer it wid'out de stakin'--so I 'member he +looked jes lak he was jumpin' a rope an' hollering', '_Pray Marser_', +ever time de strop hit 'im. + +"I heered 'bout some people whut nailed de darkies years[FN: ears] to a +tree an' beat' em but I neber seen none whupped dat way. + +"I neber got no whuppins frum Marse George 'cause he didn' whup de +chulluns none. Li'l darky chullun played 'long wid white chullun. Iffen +de old house is still thar I 'spec you kin fin' mud cakes up under de +house whut we made out'n eggs we stole frum de hen nests. Den we milked +jes anybody's cows we could ketch, an' churned it. We's all time in ter +some mischief. + +"Thar was plenty dancin' 'mong'st darkies on Marse George's place an' on +ones nearby. Dey danced reels an' lak in de moonlight: + + +[HW: Songs] + + 'Mamma's got de whoopin' cough, + Daddy's got de measles, + Dat's whar de money goes, + Pop goes de weasel.' + + + 'Buffalo gals, can't you come out tonight, + Come out tonight, an' dance by de light of de moon?' + + + 'Gennie, put de kettle on, + Sallie, boil de water strong, + Gennie, put de kittle on + An' le's have tea!' + + + 'Run tell Coleman, + Run tell everbody + Dat de niggers is arisin'!' + + + 'Run nigger run, de patterrollers ketch you-- + Run nigger run, fer hits almos' day, + De nigger run; de nigger flew; de nigger los' + His big old shoe.' + +"When de War come, Marse George went to fight back in Virginny. Us all +thought de Yankees was some kin' of debils an' we was skeered to death +of 'em. + +"One day Miss Mary Jane, Helen, an' me was playin' an' we seen mens all +dressed in blue coats wid brass buttons on dey bosoms ridin' on big fine +hosses, drive right up to our po'ch an' say to Aunt Dalia whar she was +sweepin': + +"'Good morning, Madam, no men's about?' + +"When she tol' 'em wa'nt no mens 'bout, day ax fer de keys to de +smokehouse an' went out an' hap'ed deyse'ves an' loaded dey wagons. Den +dey went out in de pasture 'mongst de sheeps an' killed off some of dem. +Nex' dey went in de buggy house an' all together shuck down de carri'ge +so we neber could use hit no mo'. Yessum, dey done right smart of +mischief 'roun' thar. + +"Some of de darkies went off wid de Yankees. My brudder Howard did, an' +we ain't heerd tell of him since. I'll tell you 'bout it. You see, Mr. +Davenpo't owned him an' when he heard 'bout da Yankees comin' dis way, +he sont his white driver an' Howard in de carri'ge wid all his valuables +to de swamp to hide, an' while dey was thar de white driver, he went +off to sleep an' Howard was prowlin' 'roun' an' we all jes reckin he +went on off wid de Yankees. + + +[HW: Superstition] + +"You mean hoo doo? Dat's whut ma pappy done to my mammy. You see, dey +was allus fussin' 'bout fust one thing, den 'nother, an' mammy got mad +'caus'n pappy slipped her clo'es out'n her ches' an' taken over to de +other gals fer to dance in, an' when he brung' em back mammy would see +finger prints on' em whar he been turnin' 'em 'roun' an' she sho' be mad +an' fight him. She could lick him too caus'n she was bigger. One day +pappy come in an' say to mammy: + +"'Does you want to be bigger an' stronger dan whut you already is?' An' +mammy say she did. So nex' day he brung her a li'l bottle of somethin' +blood red wid somethin' looked like a gourd seed in de middle of it, an' +he tol' her to drink hit iffen she want to be real strong. Frum de fust +drink she fell off. Place of walkin' off, she jes stumbled an' got +wo'ser an' wo'ser till she plum los' her min'. Fer a long time, dey had +to tie her to a tree. Den afte' de War, she lef Mr. Davenpo't's an' jes +traveled 'bout over de country. I stayed on wid Miss Margurite he'pin' +her jes lak I'd been doin'. One day mammy come afte' me an' I run an' +hid under a pile of quilts an' laked to smothered to death waitin' fer +her to go on off. + +"Nex' time she come, she brung a written letter to Miss Margurite frum +de Free Man's Board an' taken me wid her. We jes went frum place to +place 'til I got mar'ied an' settled down fer myself. I had three +chullun, but ain't none livin' now." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[TOM WILSON +near New Zion Church, Mississippi] + +[Illustration: Tom Wilson] + + +"My name is Tom Wilson an' I'se eighty fo' years old. My mammy was name +Ca'line an' my pappy was Jeff Wilson. Us lived right out on de old Jim +Wilson place, right by New Zion Chu'ch. I lives thar now--owns me a plot +of groun' an' farms. + +"Well, us b'longed to Marse Jim an' Miss Nancy Wilson. I was born right +out thar, but my mammy was brung down frum Ten'see. She come by heir to +Marse Jim but 'fo that her was sol' for ten hun'erd dollars. My mammy +was a big sportly woman an' brung a lot er money an' my pappy, he brung +nine hun'erd. Marse Jim bought him offen de block, but I don't know jes +whar frum. I jes 'members 'bout hearin' him tell 'bout bein' sol'. + +"Bofe of dem was fiel' han's. Law, mammy could plow jes lak a man all +day long; den milk twen'y head er cows afte' she quit de fiel' at night. + +"De Big House was made out'n logs an' reckin hit had 'bout seben er +eight rooms in hit, an' de kitchen sot a piece frum de mainest house. +Thar was one brick chimbly an' one dirt one to hit, an' a great big wide +po'ch 'cross de front of de house. I 'member Mis Nancy an' white folks +'ud set out thar of an evenin' an' mek us li'l cullud chullun dance an' +sing an' cut capers fer to 'muse 'em. Den dey had a trough, built 'bout +lak a pig trough, an' dey would mek de cook bake a gre't big slab er +co'n bread an' put hit in de trough an' po' milk or lasses over hit, +an' tu'n us li'l cullud chullun loose on hit. An' I'se tell'n y' as much +of hit went in our hair an' eyes an' years[FN: ears] as went in our +moufs[FN: mouths]. + +"I reckin thar was' bout two er three hun'erd acres in Marse Jim's +place. Us raised cotton, taters, an' hogs. No'm, slaves didn' have no +plots er dey own. Marse Jim give us our rashins' every week. Well, mos' +er de cullud people 'ud cook dey victuals over de fire place in dey own +houses. Us sho' did have 'possum an' taters. + +"My mammy wuked in de loom room at night by light of a pine knot. In de +Big House dey had taller[FN: tallow] can'les 'cause I 'member my mammy +moulded 'em. No'm, de spinnin' wheels was kep' in de kitchen of de Big +House. Hit had a dirt flo'. Us jes wo' li'l old suits made out'n lowell +cloth whut mammy wove on de loom. I doan 'member wearin' no shoes. + +"I jes played roun' 'bout de place an' he'ped wid de cleanin' up an' +dish washin'. Kinder house boy, I was. + + +[HW: Medicine] + +"When us got sick, mammy made us pills out'n herbs. She taken May apple +roots an' boiled hit down to a syrup; den she let dat, dry out an' +rolled hit inter pills. Day sho' was fin' fo' mos' anything we might +have. + +"Chris'mus was a mighty glad time fo' us. Yessum, us got extra rashins' +an' had time off ter play an' kick our heels. Gen'ly[FN: generally] had +'bout a week off. Tell you what Marse Jim 'ud do when Chris'mus come +'roun'. He'd sen' one of da cullud mans out to git a log an' say, 'Now +long as dis log burn, y'all kin have off'n wuk'. Co'se us'd hunt de +bigges' gum log an' den soak hit in de stream so hit wud burn on a long +time. Dey'd put hit on back er de fire an' hit wud las' mos' a week. + +"Couldn' none of us read or write, an' us wa'nt neber learned 'til afte' +us was set free. Den some went to li'l schools fer da cullud people. + +"I sho' has seen m' mammy an' lots mo' git whuppins. Marse Jim, he had a +strop er leather stuck in de slit end of a staff, an' he sho' did whup +'em layed 'cross a barrel. Once' m' pappy run away an' Marse Jim got de +blood houn's afte' him, an' catched him up 'fo he could git fur, an' dat +day he lay him 'cross de barrel, an' whupped him frum sun up til sun +down. When he quit off, m' pappy couldn' talk no more'n a whisper +sca'cely. + +"Pattyrollers, I heard of 'em allright 'cause dey sho' would git you +iffen y' went abroad widout a pass frum Marse Jim. + +"One day us li'l cullud chullun was frollicin' out in de front yard an' +Mis' Nancy an' some mo' was settin' on de po'ch an' all of a sudden I +see somebuddy comin' down de road an' I says 'Look, whut's dat?' + +"An' white folks run to de woods an' hid out caze dey seen hit was +Calv'ry 'bout a mile long comin' down de road. Sojer rid right up to me +an' stuck his bay'net at me an' says, 'Boy, whar de tater house?' An' I +sho' did show him whar 'twas. Dem sojers sho' was starved. Dey take +thirty tater punks, fifteen er twenty chickens, and five hams. Den dey +went in de smoke house an' grabbed off five er ten poun's er sausage, +middlln's, and sides. Dey take 'nough grub to load three wagons an' take +hit over to New Zion Church 'bout er mile frum us. An' right thar dey +camped that night. + +"That was afte' de Siege er Vicksburg. Marse Jim didn' keer, but he sent +us ober nex' mo'nin' to git de leavin's, an' thar was a wagon load er +jes de leavin's. + +"I 'members when us was sot free allright. 'Twas in de middle of da +winter y' know, an' Marse Jim was so mad 'bout hit he went off down to a +li'l stream or water an' broke de ice an' jumped in, an' he died 'bout +two weeks afte' of de pewmonia[FN: pneumonia]. + +"I was glad to git m' freedom 'cause I got out'n frum under dem +whuppins. + +"Afte' dat us bought lan' frum de Wilsons whut was lef' an' I been a +fa'min' thar ever since." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +CLARA C. YOUNG +Monroe County, Mississippi + + +Clara G. Young, ex-slave, Monroe County, is approximately 95 years old, +about five feet two inches tall, and weighs 105 pounds. She is a frail, +dark skinned Negro, with the typical broad nose and the large mouth of +the southern Negro. Her physical condition is especially good for a +woman of her age. She is very talkative at times, but her memory appears +to come and go, so that she has to be prompted at intervals in her +story-telling by her daughter or granddaughter, with whom she lives. +Familiarly known as "Aunt Classie," she is very proud of her age and +more especially of her long line of descendants. + +"Law, Miss, I doan know when I was born, but I do know dat I'se +sebenteen years old when I was fust sol'. Dey put me an' my brudder up +on de auction block at de same time. He brung $1400 but I dis'members +zactly what dey paid far me. Wa'nt dat much, tho', fer big strong mans +brung mo' dan wimmens an' gals." + +Long pauses accentuated the quavery voice of the old Negro, whose head +resembled a nappy patch of cotton, and who was so enthusiastic over +reminiscing about the days when she was young and carefree. + +"I was born in Huntsville, Alabamy, an' my mammy an' pappy was name +Silby an' Sharper Conley. Dey tuk de las' name frum de old marster dat +owned 'em. I lived dar wid 'em 'til de chullun drew dey parts an' us was +'vided out. While I was wid old marster, he let Miss Rachel--dat was +his wife--have me fer de house. She larned me how to cook an' wait on de +table, an' I declar', she call me her ver' smartest gal! Sometimes, +tho', I wouldn' come right quick lak when she ring de bell fer me, an' +she'd start ringin' it harder an' harder. I knowed den she was mad. When +I'd get dar, she'd fuss at me an' tu'n my dress up an' whup me--not hard +'cause she wa'nt so strong--_but I'd holler some_! + +"Dey had a nigger woman to teach all de house darkies how to read an' +write an' I larned how to sign my name an' got as fur as b-a-k-e-r in de +Blue Back Speller. + +"Marse Conley an' Miss Rachel had fo' chullun, Miss Mary, Miss Alice, +Miss Willie, an' Marse Andrew, an' when de time come, dey give me to +Marse Andrew. He car'ied me an' de rest out to Texas whar he thought he +would go an' git rich. We neber stayed long, tho', fer lots of de +niggers runned 'way to de Free State an' Marse Andrew didn' lak dat. + + +[HW: Pre-War Days] + +"It was when he brought us back to Huntsville dat I was sol'. All de +white folks was a gittin' scared dey was gwineter lose dey slaves an' +dere was a pow'ful lot er nigger sellin' goin' on den. Marse Ewing +bought me frum him an' car'ied me to his plantation near Aberdeen, +Mississippi. Den I started to workin' in de fiel' wid de rest of de +hands. De oberseer dat we had was right mean to us when we didn' work +our rows as fas' as de others, an' sometime he whup us, wimmen an' all. +When he did dat some of us most nigh allus tell de marster an' he would +jump on de oberseer an' tell him to lay off de wimmen an' chullun. Dey +was allus sort of thoughtful of us an' we loved old marster. + +"I heerd tell one time, tho', of de hired man (he was a nigger) an' de +oberseer whuppin' one of my cousins 'til she bled; she was jes' +sebenteen years old an' was in de fambly way fer de fust time, an' +couldn' work as hard as de rest. Nex' mawnin' afte' dat she died. De +hired man tol' de rest if dey said anything 'bout it to de marster, he'd +beat dem to death, too, so ever'body kep' quiet an' de marster neber +knowed. + +"We worked hard in de fiel' all day, but when dark come we would all go +to de Quarters an' afte' supper we would set 'roun' an' sing an' talk. +Mos' of de time we had good food to eat 'cause mos' of us had our +gardens, an' de Quarters cook would fix what we wanted if we brung it to +her. Durin' de last years 'fo de surrender, we didn' have much to eat +tho'; an' made out de best we could. + + +[HW: Religion] + +"De mos' fun we had was at our meetin's. We had dem mos' ever' Sunday +an' dey lasted way into de night. De preacher I laked de bes' was name +Mathew Ewing. He was a comely nigger, black as night, an' he sho' could +read out of his han'. He neber larned no real readin' an' writin' but +he sho' knowed his Bible an' would hol' his han' out an' mek lak he was +readin' an' preach de purtiest preachin' you ever heered. De meetin's +last frum early in de mawnin' 'til late at night. When dark come, de men +folks would hang up a wash pot, bottom up'ards, in de little brush +church-house us had, so's it would catch de noise an' de oberseer +wouldn' hear us singin' an' shoutin'. Dey didn' min' us meetin' in de +day time, but dey thought iffen we stayed up ha'f de night we wouldn' +work so hard de nex' day--an' dat was de truf. + +"You should'a seen some of de niggers get 'ligion. De best way was to +carry 'em to de cemetery an' let 'em stand ober a grave. Dey would start +singin' an' shoutin' 'bout sein' fire an' brimstone; den dey would sing +some mo' an' look plum sanctified. + +"When us had our big meetin's, dere would allus be some darkies frum de +plantations aroun' to come. Dey would have to slip off 'cause dey +marsters was afraid dey would git hitched up wid some other black boy er +gal on de other plantation an' den dey would either have to buy er sell +a nigger 'fo you could git any work out of him. + +"We neber knowed much bout de War, 'cept dat we didn' have as much to +eat er wear, an' de white men folks was all gone. Den, too, Old Miss +cried a lot of de time. + + +[HW: Reconstruction] + +"De Yankees come 'roun' afte' de War an' tol' us we's frea an' we +shouted an' sang, an' had a big celebration fer a few days. Den we got +to wonderin' 'bout what good it did us. It didn' feel no diffrunt; we +all loved our marster an' missus an' stayed on wid 'em jes' lak nothin' +had happened. De Yankees tried to git some of de men to vote, too, but +not many did 'cause dey was scared of de Ku Kluxers. Dey would come at +night all dressed up lak ghosts an' scare us all. We didn' lak de +Yankees anyway. Dey wa'nt good to us; when dey lef' we would allus sing +dat leetle song what go lak dis: + + +[HW: Song] + + 'Old Mister Yankee, think he is so grand, + Wid his blue coat tail a draggin' on de ground!' + +"I stayed on wid Old Marster afte' de surrender, wid de res', 'til I met +Joshua. Joshua Young was his name an' he b'longed to de Youngs whut +lived out at Waverly. I moved out dar wid him afte' we mar'ied. We didn' +have no big weddin' 'cause dere wa'nt much money den. We had a preacher +tho', an' den went along jes' lak we had allus been mar'ied. + +"Josh, he's been daid fer a long time now but we had a good life out at +Waverly an' many a night stood outside de parlor do' an' watch de white +folks at dey big dances an' parties. De folks was pow'ful nice to us an' +we raised a passel er chullun out dar. All of 'em 'ceptin' three be daid +now. George is de oldes' of those lef'. He's a bricklayer, carpenter, +preacher, an' mos anything else he 'cides to call hisse'f. He's got 19 +or 20 chullun, I dis'members which. Edith ain't got so many. She live up +North. I lives wid my other darter an' her gal. I named her afte' my +sisters. Her name is Anna Luvenia Hulda Larissa Jane Bell Young +McMillan. Dere may be more'n dat now, but anyways dere is five +generations livin'. + +"What I think 'bout slav'ry? Well, leetle Miss, I tell you, I wish it +was back. Us was a lot better off in dem days dan we is now. If dem +Yankees had lef us 'lone we'd been a lot happier. We wouldn' been on +'lief an' old age pension fer de las' three years. An' Janie May, here, +I b'lieve, sure as goodness, would'a been de Missus' very smartes' gal, +an' would'a stayed wid her in de Big House lak I did." + + +Note: This autobiography is exactly as related by the Negro to the field +worker with exception of a few changes in spelling. Phraseology is the +same. + +B.Y. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: A Folk History of +Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12055 *** diff --git a/12055-h/12055-h.htm b/12055-h/12055-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..204dbee --- /dev/null +++ b/12055-h/12055-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4958 @@ + +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8"> +<title>Born in Slavery: Slave Narratives from the Federal Writers' Project, 1936-1938: +Mississippi Narratives, Volume IX</title> +<meta name="author" content="Federal Writers' Project"> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12055 ***</div> + +<p>[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note</p> +<p>[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note</p> +<p>[FN: ***] = Footnote</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br> + + + +<h1>SLAVE NARRATIVES</h1> +<br> + +<h2><i>A Folk History of Slavery in the United States<br> +From Interviews with Former Slaves</i></h2> +<br> + + +<h4>TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY<br> +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT<br> +1936-1938<br> +ASSEMBLED BY<br> +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT<br> +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION<br> +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA<br> +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</h4> +<br> + +<p><i>Illustrated with Photographs</i></p> +<br> + +<p>WASHINGTON 1941</p> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>VOLUME IX</h2> + +<h2>MISSISSIPPI NARRATIVES</h2> + + +<h3>Prepared by<br> +the Federal Writers' Project of<br> +the Works Progress Administration<br> +for the State of Mississippi</h3> +<br><br><br> + +<h2>INFORMANTS</h2> + +<a href="#AllenJim">Allen, Jim</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#BakerAnna">Baker, Anna</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#CameronJohn">Cameron, John</a><br> +<a href="#ClarkGus">Clark, Gus</a><br> +<a href="#CorneliusJames">Cornelius, James</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#DavenportCharlie">Davenport, Charlie</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#EmanuelGabe">Emanuel, Gabe</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#FranksDora">Franks, Dora</a><br> +<a href="#FranksPet">Franks, Pet</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#HenryNettie">Henry, Nettie</a><br> +<a href="#HodgesFannie">Hodges, Fanny Smith</a><br> +<a href="#HollidayWayne">Holliday, Wayne</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#JohnsonPrince">Johnson, Prince</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#KennedyHamp">Kennedy, Hamp</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#LucasJames">Lucas, James</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#McAllumSam">McAllum, Sam</a><br> +<a href="#MosesCharlie">Moses, Charlie</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#NecaiseHenri">Necaise, Henri</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#SingletonJames">Singleton, Rev. James</a><br> +<a href="#SmithBerry">Smith, Berry</a><br> +<a href="#SnowSusan">Snow, Susan</a><br> +<a href="#StierIsaac">Stier, Isaac</a><br> +<a href="#SuttonJane">Sutton, Jane</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#WilliamsMollie">Williams, Mollie</a><br> +<a href="#WilsonTom">Wilson, Tom</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#YoungClaraC">Young, Clara C.</a><br> +<br><br> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<a href="#img_WM">Mollie Williams</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#img_WT">Tom Wilson</a><br> +<br><br> + +<p>[TR: Footnotes have been moved to appear within the text.]<br> +[TR: Informant names and locations that appear in brackets have been drawn +from interviews.]</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="AllenJim"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +Jim Allen, Clay Co.<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Ed Joiner<br> +<br> +[JIM ALLEN<br> +West Point, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Jim Allen, West Point, age 87, lives in a shack furnished by the city. +With him lives his second wife, a much older woman. Both he and his wife +have a reputation for being "queer" and do not welcome outside visitors. +However, he readily gave an interview and seemed most willing to relate +the story of his life.</p> + +<p>"Yas, ma'm, I 'members lots about slav'ry time, 'cause I was old 'nough.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Russell County, Alabamy, an' can tell you 'bout my own +mammy an' pappy an' sisters an' brudders.</p> + +<p>"Mammy's name was Darkis an' her Marster was John Bussey, a reg'lar old +drunkard, an' my pappy's name was John Robertson an' b'longed to Dr. +Robertson, a big farmer on Tombigbee river, five miles east of Columbus. +De doctor hisself lived in Columbus.</p> + +<p>"My sister Harriett and brudder John was fine fiel' hands an' Marster +kep' 'em in de fiel' most of de time, tryin' to dodge other white folks.</p> + +<p>"Den dere was Sister Vice an' brudder George. Befo' I could 'member +much, I 'members Lee King had a saloon close to Bob Allen's store in +Russell County, Alabama, and Marse John Bussey drunk my mammy up. I +means by dat, Lee King tuk her an' my brudder George fer a whiskey debt. +Yes, old Marster drinked dem up. Den dey was car'ied to Florida by Sam +Oneal, an' George was jes a baby. You know, de white folks wouldn't +often sep'rate de mammy an' baby. I ain't seen' em since.</p> + +<p>"Did I work? Yes ma'm, me an' a girl worked in de fiel', carryin' one +row; <u>you</u> know, it tuk two chullun to mek one han'.</p> + +<p>"Did we have good eatins? Yes ma'm, old Marster fed me so good, fer I +was his pet. He never 'lowed no one to pester me neither. Now dis +Marster was Bob Allen who had tuk me for a whiskey debt, too. Marse +Bussey couldn't pay, an' so Marse Allen tuk me, a little boy, out'n de +yard whar I was playin' marbles. De law 'lowed de fust thing de man saw, +he could take.</p> + +<p>"I served Marse Bob Allen 'til Gen'al Grant come 'long and had me an' +some others to follow him to Miss'sippi. We was in de woods hidin' de +mules an' a fine mare. Dis was after Emanc'pation, an' Gen'al Grant was +comin' to Miss'sippi to tell de niggers dey was free.</p> + +<p>"As I done tol' you, I was Marse Allen's pet nigger boy. I was called a +stray. I slep' on de flo' by old Miss an' Marse Bob. I could'a slep' on +de trun'le bed, but it was so easy jes to roll over an' blow dem ashes +an' mek dat fire burn.</p> + +<p>"Ole Miss was so good, I'd do anything fer her. She was so good an' +weighed' round 200 poun's. She was Marse Bob's secon' wife. Nobody +'posed on me, No, Sir! I car'ied water to Marse Bob's sto' close by an' +he would allus give me candy by de double han'full, an' as many juice +harps as I wanted. De bes' thing I ever did eat was dat candy. Marster +was good to his only stray nigger.</p> + +<p>"Slave niggers didn't fare wid no gardens 'cept de big garden up at de +Big House, when fiel' han's was called to wuk out hers (old Miss). All +de niggers had a sight of good things to eat from dat garden an' smoke +house.</p> + +<p>"I kin see old Lady Sally now, cookin' for us niggers, an' Ruth cooked +in de white folk's kitchen. Ruth an' old Man Pleas' an' old Lady Susan +was give to Marse Bob when he mar'ied an' come to Sandford, Alabamy.</p> + +<p>"No, dere wa'nt no jails, but a guard house. When niggers did wrong, dey +was oft'n sent dere, but mos' allus dey was jes whupped when too lazy to +wuk, an' when dey would steal.</p> + +<p>"Our clo'es was all wove and made on de plan'ation. Our ever'day ones, +we called 'hick'ry strips.' We had a' plen'y er good uns. We was fitted +out an' out each season, an' had two pairs of shoes, an' all de snuff +an' 'bacco we wanted every month.</p> + +<p>"No, not any weddin's. It was kinder dis way. Dere was a good nigger man +an' a good nigger woman, an' the Marster would say, 'I knows you both +good niggers an' I wants you to be man an' wife dis year an' raise +little niggers; den I won't have to buy' em.'</p> + +<p>"Marse Bob lived in a big white house wid six rooms. He had a cou't +house an' a block whar he hired out niggers, jes like mules an' cows.</p> + +<p>"How many slaves did us have? Les' see. Dere was old Lady Sally an' her +six chullun an' old Jake, her husban', de ox driver, fer de boss. Den +dere was old Starlin', Rose, his wife an' fo' chullun. Some of dem was +mixed blood by de oberseer. I sees 'em right now. I knowed de oberseer +was nothin' but po' white trash, jes a tramp. Den dere was me an' +Katherin. Old Lady Sally cooked for de oberseers, seven miles 'way frum +de Big House.</p> + +<p>"Ever'body was woke up at fo' o'clock by a bugle blowed mos'ly by a +nigger, an' was at dey work by sun-up. Den dey quits at sunset. I sho' +seed bad niggers whupped as many times as dere is leaves on dat groun'. +Not Marse Bob's niggers, but our neighbors. We was called 'free,' 'cause +Marse Bob treated us so good. The whuppin' was done by de oberseer or +driver, who would say as he put de whup to de back, '<u>Pray sir, pray +sir</u>!'</p> + +<p>"I seed slaves sol' oft'ener dan you got fingers an' toes. You know I +tol' you dere was a sellin' block close to our sto'. Den plen'y niggers +had to be chained to a tree or post 'cause he would run 'way an' wouldn' +wuk.</p> + +<p>"Dey would track de runways wid dogs an' sometimes a white scal'wag or +slacker wud be kotched dodgin' duty. I seed as many deserters as I see +corn stalks ober in dat fiel'. Dey would hide out in day time an' steal +at night.</p> + +<p>"No'm I didn' learn to read an' write but my folks teached me to be +honest an' min' Old Miss an' Granny. Dey didn' want us to learn how to +go to de free country.</p> + +<p>"We had a neighborhood chu'ch an bofe black an' white went to it. Dere +was a white preacher an' sometimes a nigger preacher would sit in de +pulpit wid him. De slaves set on one side of de aisle an' white folks on +de other. I allus liked preacher Williams Odem, an' his brudder Daniel, +de 'Slidin' Elder'.[FN: back slider] Dey come frum Ohio. Marse Bob Allen +was head steward. I' members lots of my fav'rite songs. Some of dem was, +<u>Am I born to Die</u>, <u>Alas and Did my Savior Bleed</u>, an' +<u>Must I to de Judgment be Brought</u>. The preacher would say 'Pull +down de line and let de spirit be a witnes, workin' fer faith in de +future frum on high.'</p> + +<p>"I seed de patyrollers every week. If de niggers didn' get a pass in +han' right frum one plan'ation to 'nother, dem patyrollers would git +you. Dey would be six an' twelve in a drove, an' day would git you if +you didn' have dat piece of paper. No sun could go down on a pass. Dere +was no trouble twixt niggers den.</p> + +<p>"We lay down an' res' at night in de week time. Niggers in slav'ry time +riz up in de Quarters, you could hear 'em for miles. Den da cornshucking +tuk place. Den we would have singin'. When one foun' a red ear of corn, +dey would take a drink of whiskey frum de jug an' cup. We'd get through' +bout ten o'clock. De men did'n care if dey worked all night, fer we had +the 'Heav'nly Banners'[FN: women and whiskey] by us[HW:?].</p> + +<p>"Sometimes we worked on Sat'day a'ternoon, owin' to de crops; but women +all knocked off on Sat'day a'ternoon. On Sat'day night, we mos'ly had +fun, playin' an drinking whiskey an' beer—no time to fool 'roun' in de +week time.</p> + +<p>"Some went to chu'ch an' some went fishin' on Sunday. On Chris'mas we +had a time—all kinds eatin'—wimmen got new dresses—men tobacco—had +stuff to las' 'til Summer. Niggers had good times in mos' ways in +slav'ry time. July 4th, we would wash up an' have a good time. We +hallowed dat day wid de white folks. Dere was a barbecue; big table set +down in bottoms. Dere was niggers strollin' 'roun' like ants. We was +havin' a time now. White folks too. When a slave died, dere was a to-do +over dat, hollerin' an' singin'. More fuss dan a little—'Well, sich a +one has passed out an we gwine to de grave to 'tend de fun'ral; we will +talk about Sister Sallie.' De niggers would be jumpin' as high as a cow +er mule.</p> + +<p>"A song we used to sing was"</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Sang]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Come on Chariot an' Take Her Home, Take Her Home, +Here Come Chariot, les' ride, +Come on les' ride, Come on les' ride.' +</pre> + +<p>"Yessum we believed ha'nts would be at de grave yard. I didn' pay no' +tention to dem tho', for I know de evil spirit is dere. Iffen you don't +believe it, let one of 'em slap you. I ain't seed one, but I'se heard +'em. I seed someone, dey said was a ghos', but it got 'way quick.</p> + +<p>"When we got sick de doctor come at once, and Mistiss was right dere to +see we was cared fer. A doctor lived on our place. If you grunt he was +right dere. We had castor oil an' pills an' turpentine an' quinine when +needful, an' herbs was used. I can fin' dat stuff now what we used when +I was a boy.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Superstition]</b></p> + +<p>"Some of us wore brass rings on our fingers to keep off croup. Really +good—<u>good now</u>. See mine?</p> + +<p>"Yessum I knows all 'bout when Yankees come. Dey got us out'er de swamp. +I was layin' down by a white oak tree 'sleep, an' when I woke up an' +looked up an' saw nothin' but blue, blue, I said, 'Yonder is my Boss's +fine male hoss, Alfred. He 'tended dat horse hisself.' He took it to +heart, an' he didn' live long afte' de Blue Coats took Alfred.</p> + +<p>"Peace was declared to us fust in January in Alabamy, but not in +Miss'sippi 'til Grant come back, May 8th.</p> + +<p>"I ain't seen my boss since dem Yankees took me 'way. I was seven miles +down in de swamp when I was tuk. I wouldn' of tol' him goodbye. I jes +wouldn' of lef' him. No sir, I couldn' have lef' my good boss. He tol' +me dem Yankees was comin' to take me off. I never wanted to see him +'cause I would have went back 'cause he pertected me an' loved me.</p> + +<p>"Like dis week, I lef' de crowd. One day, Cap'in Bob McDaniel came by, +an' asked me if I wanted to mek fires an' wuk 'round de house. I said, +'I'd like to see de town whar you want me to go, an' den I come to West +Point. It wa'nt nothin' but cotton rows—lot of old shabby shanties, +with jes one brick sto', an' it b'longed to Ben Robertson, an' I +hope[FN: helped] build all de sto'es in West Point since den.</p> + +<p>"I seed de KuKlux. We would be workin'. Dem people would be in de fiel', +an' must get home 'fo dark an' shet de door. Dey wo' three cornered +white hats with de eyes way up high. Dey skeered de breeches off'n me. +First ones I got tangled up wid was right down here by de cemetery. Dey +just wanted to scare you. Night riders was de same thing. I was one of +de fellers what broke 'em up.</p> + +<p>"Old man Toleson was de head leader of de Negroes. Tryin' to get Negroes +to go 'gainst our white people. I spec' he was a two faced Yankee or +carpetbagger.</p> + +<p>"We had clubs all 'round West Point. Cap'in Shattuck out about Palo Alto +said to us niggers one day, 'Stop your foolishness—go live among your +white folks an' behave. Have sense an' be good citizens.' His advice was +good an' we soon broke up our clubs.</p> + +<p>"I ain't been to no school 'cept Sunday School since Surrender. A good +white man I worked with taught me 'nough to spell 'comprestibility' and +'compastibility.' I had good 'membrance an' I could have learned what +white folks taught me, an' dey sees dey manners in me.</p> + +<p>"I mar'ied when I was turnin' 19, an' my wife, 15. I mar'ied at big +Methodist Chu'ch in Needmore. Same old chu'ch is dere now. I hope build +it in 1865. Aunt Emaline Robertson an' Vincent Petty an' Van McCanley +started a school in de northeast part of town two years afte' de War.</p> + +<p>"Emaline was Mr. Ben Robertson's cook, an' her darter, Callie, was his +housekeeper, an' George an' Walter was mechanics. George became a school +teacher.</p> + +<p>"Abraham Lincoln worked by 'pinions of de Bible. He got his meanin's +from de Bible. 'Every man should live under his own vine and fig tree.' +Dis was Abraham's commandments. Dis is where Lincoln started, 'no one +should work for another.'</p> + +<p>"Jefferson Davis wanted po' man to work for rich man. He was wrong in +one 'pinion, an' right in t'other. He tried to take care of his Nation. +In one instance, Lincoln was destroying us.</p> + +<p>"I j'ined the church to do better an' to be with Christians an' serve +Christ. Dis I learned by 'sociation an' harmonious livin' with black an' +white, old an' young, an' to give justice to all.</p> + +<p>"Be fust work I did after de War was for Mr. Bob McDaniel who lived near +Waverly on de Tombigbee River. Yes ma'am, I knowed de Lees, an' de +Joiners, but on de river den an' long afte', an' worked for 'em lots in +Clay County."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="BakerAnna"></a> +<h3>Anna Baker, Ex-slave, Monroe County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +ANNA BAKER<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Anna Baker, 80-year old ex-slave, is tall and well built. She is what +the Negroes term a "high brown." Her high forehead and prominent cheek +bones indicate that there is a strain of other than the pure African in +her blood. She is in fair health.</p> + +<p>"Lemme see how old I is. Well, I tells you jus' lak I tol' dat Home Loan +man what was here las' week. I 'members a pow'ful lot 'bout slavery +times an' 'bout 'fore surrender. I know I was a right smart size den, +so's 'cording to dat I mus' be 'roun' 'bout eighty year old. I aint sho' +'bout dat an' I don't want to tell no untruth. I know I was right smart +size 'fore de surrender, as I was a-sayin', 'cause I 'members Marster +comin' down de road past de house. When I'd see 'im 'way off I'd run to +de gate an' start singin' dis song to 'im:</p> + +<pre> +'Here come de marster, root toot too! +Here come Marster, comin' my way! +Howdy, Marster, howdy do! +What you gwine a-bring from town today?' +</pre> + +<p>Dat would mos' nigh tickle him to death an' he'd say, 'Loosahna (dat was +his pet name for me) what you want today? I'd say, 'Bring me some +goobers, or a doll, or some stick candy, or anything. An' you can bet +yo' bottom doller he'd always bring me somp'n'.</p> + +<p>"One reason Marse Morgan thought so much o' me, dey say I was a right +peart young'n' an' caught on to anything pretty quick. Marster would +tell me, 'Loosanna, if you keep yo' ears open an' tell me what de +darkies talk 'bout, dey'll be somp'n' good in it for you.' (He meant for +me to listen when dey'd talk 'bout runnin' off an' such.) I'd stay +'roun' de old folks an' make lak I was a-playin'. All de time I'd be +a-listenin'. Den I'd go an' tell Marster what I hear'd. But all de time +I mus' a-had a right smart mind, 'cause I'd play 'roun' de white folks +an' hear what dey'd say an' den go tell de Niggers.—Don't guess de +marster ever thought 'bout me doin' dat.</p> + +<p>"I was born an' bred 'bout seven miles from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I was +de baby of de fam'ly. De house was on de right han' side o' de road to +town. I had four sisters an' one brother dat I knows of. Dey was named +Classie, Jennie, Florence, Allie, an' George. My name was Joanna, but +dey done drap de Jo part a long time ago.</p> + +<p>"I don't recollec' what my ma's mammy an' pappy was named, but I know +dat her pappy was a full blooded Injun. (I guess dat is where I gits my +brown color.) Her mammy was a full blooded African though, a great big +woman.</p> + +<p>"I recollec' a tale ray mammy tol' me 'bout my gran'pa. When he took up +wid my gran'mammy de white man what owned her say, 'If you want to stay +wid her I'll give you a home if you'll work for me lak de Niggers do.' +He 'greed, 'cause he thought a heap o' his Black Woman. (Dat's what he +called her.) Ever'thing was all right 'til one o' dem uppity overseers +tried to act smart. He say he gwine a-beat him. My gran'pappy went home +dat night an' barred de door. When de overseer an' some o' his frien's +come after him, he say he aint gwine a-open dat door. Dey say if he +don't dey gwine a-break it in. He tell' em to go 'head.</p> + +<p>"Whilst dey was a-breakin' in he filled a shovel full o' red hot coals +an' when dey come in he th'owed it at 'em. Den whilst dey was +a-hollerin' he run away. He aint never been seen again to dis good day. +I'se hear'd since den dat white folks learnt dat if dey started to whip +a Injun dey'd better kill him right den or else he might git dem.</p> + +<p>"My mammy's name was Harriet Clemens. When I was too little to know +anything 'bout it she run off an' lef' us. I don't 'member much 'bout +her 'fore she run off, I reckon I was mos' too little.</p> + +<p>"She tol' me when she come after us, after de war was over, all 'bout +why she had to run away: It was on 'count of de Nigger overseers. (Dey +had Niggers over de hoers an' white mens over de plow han's.) Dey kep' +a-tryin' to mess 'roun' wid her an' she wouldn' have nothin' to do wid +'em. One time while she was in de fiel' de overseer asked her to go over +to de woods wid him an' she said, 'All right, I'll go find a nice place +an' wait.' She jus' kep'a-goin. She swum de river an' run away. She +slipped back onct or twict at night to see us, but dat was all. She +hired out to some folks dat warnt rich' nough to have no' slaves o' dey +own. Dey was good to her, too. (She never lacked for work to do.)</p> + +<p>"When my ma went off a old woman called Aunt Emmaline kep' me. (She kep' +all de orphunt chillun an' dem who's mammas had been sent off to de +breedin' quarters. When dem women had chillun dey brung 'em an' let +somebody lak Aunt Emmaline raise em.) She was sho' mean to me. I think +it was 'cause de marster laked me an' was always a-pettin' me. She was +jealous.</p> + +<p>"She was always a-tryin' to whip me for somethin' or nother. One time +she hit me wid a iron miggin. (You uses it in churnin'.) It made a bad +place on my head. She done it 'cause I let some meal dat she was +parchin' burn up. After she done it she got sort a scared an' doctored +me up. She put soot on de cut to make it stop bleedin'. Nex' day she +made me promise to tell de marster dat I hurt my head when I fell out o' +de door dat night he whip Uncle Sim for stealin' a hog. Now I was asleep +dat night, but when he asked me I said, 'Aunt Emmaline say tell you I +hurt my head fallin' out de door de night you whip Uncle Sim.' Den he +say, 'Is dat de truf?' I say, 'Naw sir.' He took Aunt Emmaline down to +de gear house an' wore her out. He wouldn' tell off on me. He jus' tol' +her dat she had no bus'ness a-lettin' me stay up so late dat I seen him +do de whippin'.</p> + +<p>"My pa was named George Clemens. Us was all owned by Marster Morgan +Clemens. Master Hardy, his daddy, had give us to him when he 'vided out +wid de res' o' his chillun. (Marster Morgan was a settled man. He went +'roun' by hisse'f mos' o' de time. He never did marry.)</p> + +<p>"My pa went to de war wid Marster Morgan an' he never come back. I don't +'member much 'bout 'em goin', but after dey lef' I 'member de Blue Coats +a-comin'. Dey tore de smoke house down an' made a big fire an' cooked +all de meat dey could hol'. All us Niggers had a good time, 'cause, dey +give us all us wanted. One of 'em put me up on his knee an' asked me if +I'd ever seen Marster wid any little bright 'roun' shiny things. (He +held his hand up wid his fingers in de shape of a dollar.) I, lak a +crazy little Nigger said, 'Sho', Marster draps 'em 'hind de +mantelpiece.' Den, if dey didn' tear dat mantel down an' git his money, +I's a son-of-a-gun!</p> + +<p>"After de war was over my ma got some papers from de progo[FN: provost] +marshal. She come to de place an 'tol' de marster she want her chillun. +He say she can have all 'cept me. She say she want me, too, dat I was +her'n an' she was gwine a-git me. She went back an 'got some more papers +an' showed 'em to Marster Morgan. Den he lemme go.</p> + +<p>"She come out to de house to git us. At firs' I was scared o' her, +'cause I didn' know who she was. She put me in her lap an' she mos' nigh +cried when she seen de back o' my head. Dey was awful sores where de +lice had been an' I had scratched 'em. (She sho' jumped Aunt Emmaline +'bout dat.) Us lef' dat day an' went right on to Tuscaloosa. My ma had +married again an' she an' him took turns 'bout carrying me when I got +tired. Us had to walk de whole seven miles.</p> + +<p>"I went to school after dat an' learnt to read an' write. Us had white +Yankee teachers. I learnt to read de Bible well' nough an' den I quit.</p> + +<p>"I was buried in de water lak de Savior. I's a real Baptis'. De Holy +Sperrit sho' come into my heart.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieves in de Sperrit. I b'lieves all o' us when us dies is +sperrits. Us jus' hovers 'roun' in de sky a-ridin' on de clouds. Course, +some folks is born wid a cloud over dey faces. Dey can see things dat us +can't. I reckon dey sees de sperrits. I know' bout dem Kloo Kluxes. I +had to go to court one time to testify 'bout' em. One night after us had +moved to Tuscaloosa dey come after my step-daddy. Whilst my ma an' de +res' went an' hid I went to de door. I warnt scared. I says, 'Marster +Will, aint dat you?' He say, 'Sho', it's me. Whar's yo' daddy?' I tol' +'im dat he'd gone to town. Den dey head out for 'im. In de meantime my +ma she had started out, too. She warned him to hide, so dey didn' git +'im.</p> + +<p>"Soon after dat de Yankees hel' a trial in Tuscaloosa. Dey carried me. A +man hel' me up an' made me p'int out who it was dat come to our house. I +say, 'Dat's de man, aint it Marster Will?' He couldn' say "No", 'cause +he'd tol' me twas him dat night. Dey put 'em in jail for six months an' +give 'em a big fine.</p> + +<p>"Us moved from Tuscaloosa while I was still a young girl an' went to +Pickensville, Alabama. Us stayed dar on de river for awhile an' den +moved to Columbus, Mississippi. I lived dar 'til I was old 'nough to git +out to myse'f.</p> + +<p>"Den I come to Aberdeen an' married Sam Baker. Me an' Sam done well. He +made good money an' us bought dis very house I lives in now. Us never +had no chillun, but I was lef' one by a cousin o' mine what died. I +raised her lak she was my own. I sont her to school an' ever'thing. She +lives in Chicago now an' wants me to come live wid her. But shucks! What +would a old woman lak me do in a place lak dat?</p> + +<p>"I aint got nothin' lef now 'cept a roof over my head. I wouldn' have +dat 'cept for de President o' de United States. Dey had loaned me some +money to fix up de house to keep it from fallin' down on me. Dey said +I'd have fifteen year to pay it back in. Now course, I knowed I'd be +dead in dat time, so I signed up wid' em.</p> + +<p>"Las' year de men dat collec' nearly worrit me to death a-tryin' to git +some money from me. I didn' have none, so dey say dey gwine a-take my +home.</p> + +<p>"Now I hear tell o' dat barefoot Nigger down at Columbus callin' de +president an' him bein' so good to 'im. So I 'cided to write an' tell +'im what a plight dis Nigger was in. I didn' say nothin noxious[FN: +obnoxious], but I jus' tol' him plain facts. He writ me right back an' +pretty soon he sont a man down to see me. He say I needn' bother no +more, dat dey won't take my house 'way from me. An' please de Lawd! Dey +aint nobody else been here a-pesterin' me since.</p> + +<p>"Dat man tol' me soon as de old age pension went th'ough I'd git thirty +dollars a mont' stid[FN: instead] o' de four I's a-gittin' now. Now +won't dat be gran'? I could live lak de white folks on dat much.</p> + +<p>"I'se had 'ligion all my born days. (I never learnt to read de Bible an' +'terpet de Word 'til I was right smart size, but I mus' o' b'lieved in +de Lawd since 'way back.) I'se gwine a-go right 'long an' keep +a-trustin' de good Lawd an' I knows ever'thing gwine a-come out all +right.</p> + +<p>"'Twixt de Lawd an' de good white folks I know I's gwine always have +somethin' t'eat. President Roosevelt done 'tended to de roof over my +head."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="CameronJohn"></a> +<h3>JOHN CAMERON<br> +Jackson, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>John Cameron, ex-slave, lives in Jackson. He was born in 1842 and was +owned by Howell Magee. He is five feet six inches tall, and weighs about +150 pounds. His general coloring is blackish-brown with white kinky +hair. He is in fairly good health.</p> + +<p>"I'se always lived right here in Hinds County. I's seen Jackson grow +from de groun' up.</p> + +<p>"My old Marster was de bes' man in de worl'. I jus' wish I could tell, +an' make it plain, jus' how good him an' old Mistis was. Marster was a +rich man. He owned 'bout a thousand an' five hund'ed acres o' lan' an' +roun' a hund'ed slaves. Marster's big two-story white house wid +lightning rods standin' all 'bout on de roof set on top of a hill.</p> + +<p>"De slave cabins, 'cross a valley from de Big House, was built in rows. +Us was 'lowed to sing, play de fiddles, an' have a good time. Us had +plenty t' eat and warm clo'es an' shoes in de winter time. De cabins was +kep' in good shape. Us aint never min' workin' for old Marster, cause us +got good returns. Dat meant good livin' an' bein' took care of right. +Marster always fed his slaves in de Big House.</p> + +<p>"De slaves would go early to de fiel's an work in de cotton an' corn. +Dey had different jobs.</p> + +<p>"De overseers was made to un'erstan' to be 'siderate of us. Work went on +all de week lak dat. Dey got off from de fiel's early on Satu'd'y +evenin's, washed up an' done what dey wanted to. Some went huntin' or +fishin', some fiddled an' danced an' sung, while de others jus' lazed +roun' de cabins. Marse had two of de slaves jus' to be fiddlers. Dey +played for us an' kep' things perked up. How us could swing, an' +step-'bout by dat old fiddle music always a-goin' on. Den old Marster +come 'roun' wid his kin'ly smile an' jov'al sp'rits. When things went +wrong he always knowed a way. He knowed how to comfort you in trouble.</p> + +<p>"Now, I was a gardner or yard boy. Dat was my part as a slave. I he'ped +keep de yard pretty an' clean, de grass cut, an' de flowers' tended to +an' cut. I taken dat work' cause I lak's pretty flowers. I laks to buil' +frames for 'em to run on an' to train 'em to win' 'roun'. I could monkey +wid 'em all de time.</p> + +<p>"When folks started a-comin' through talkin' 'bout a-freein' us an' +a-givin' us lan' an' stuff, it didn' take wid Marster's slaves. Us didn' +want nothin' to come 'long to take us away from him. Dem a tellin' de +Niggers dey'd git lan' an' cattle an' de lak of dat was all foolis'ness, +nohow. Us was a-livin' in plenty an' peace.</p> + +<p>"De war broke out spite o' how Marster's Niggers felt. When I seen my +white folks leave for war, I cried myself sick, an' all de res' did too. +Den de Yankees come through a-takin' de country. Old Marster refugeed us +to Virginny. I can't say if de lan' was his'n, but he had a place for us +to stay at. I know us raised 'nough food stuff for all de slaves. +Marster took care o' us dere 'til de war ended.</p> + +<p>"Den he come to camp late one evenin' an tol' us dat us was free as he +was; dat us could stay in Virginny an work or us could come to +Mississippi wid him. Might nigh de whole passel bun'led up an' come +back, an' glad to do it, too. Dar us all stayed 'til de family all died. +De las' one died a few years ago an' lef' us few old darkies to grieve +over 'em.</p> + +<p>"I don' know much 'bout de Klu Klux Klan an' all dat. Dey rode 'bout at +night an' wore long white ghos'-lak robes. Dey whup folks an' had +meetin's way off in de woods at midnight. Dey done all kinds o' curious +things. None never did bother 'bout Marster's place, so I don' know much +'bout 'em.</p> + +<p>"After de War it took a mighty long time to git things a-goin' smooth. +Folks an' de Gov'ment, too, seem lak dey was all up-set an' threatened +lak. For a long time it look lak things gwine bus' loose ag'in. Mos' +ever'thing was tore up an' burned down to de groun'. It took a long time +to build back dout no money. Den twant de gran' old place it was de +firs' time.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was a young man. I was lucky 'nough to git de nex' +bes' woman in de worl'. (Old Mis' was de bes'.) Dat gal was so good 'til +I had to court 'er mos' two years 'fore she'd say she'd have me.</p> + +<p>"Us had six chillun. Three of 'em's still livin'. I can't say much for +my chillun. I don' lak to feel hard, but I tried to raise my chillun de +bes' I could. I educated 'em; even bought 'em a piano an' give em' +music. One of 'em is in Memphis, 'nother'n in Detroit, an' de other'n in +Chicago. I writes to 'em to he'p me, but don' never hear from 'em. I's +old an' dey is forgot me, I guess.</p> + +<p>"Dat seems to be de way of de worl' now. Ever'thing an' ever'body is too +fas' an' too frivoless[FN: frivilous] dese here times. I tell you, folks +ought to be more lak old Marster was.</p> + +<p>"I's a Christian an' loves de Lawd. I expects to go to him 'fore long. +Den I know I's gwine see my old Marstar an' Mistis ag'in."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>BIBLIOGRAPHY</b></p> + +<p>John Cameron: Jackson, Mississippi.</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ClarkGus"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[GUS CLARK<br> +Howison, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Uncle Gus Clark and his aged wife live in a poverty-stricken deserted +village about an eighth of a mile east of Howison.</p> + +<p>Their old mill cabin, a relic of a forgotten lumber industry, is +tumbling down. They received direct relief from the ERA until May, 1934, +when the ERA changed the dole to work relief. Uncle Gus, determined to +have a work card, worked on the road with the others until he broke down +a few days later and was forced to accept direct relief. Now, neither +Gus nor Liza is able to work, and the only help available for them is +the meager State Old Age Assistance. Gus still manages to tend their +tiny garden.</p> + +<p>He gives his story:</p> + +<p>"I'se gwine on 'bout eighty-five. 'At's my age now. I was born at +Richmond, Virginny, but lef' dare right afte' de War. Dey had done +surrendered den, an' my old marster doan have no mo' power over us. We +was all free an' Boss turned us loose.</p> + +<p>"My mammy's name was Judy, an' my pappy was Bob. Clark was de Boss's +name. I doan 'member my mammy, but pappy was workin' on de railroad +afte' freedom an' got killed.</p> + +<p>"A man come to Richmond an' carried me an' pappy an' a lot of other +niggers ter Loos'anna ter work in de sugar cane. I was little but he +said I could be a water boy. It sho' was a rough place. Dem niggers +quar'l an' fight an' kills one 'nother. Big Boss, he rich, an' doan 'low +no sheriff ter come on his place. He hol' cou't an' settle all 'sputes +hisself. He done bury de dead niggers an' put de one what killed him +back to work.</p> + +<p>"A heap of big rattlesnakes lay in dem canebrakes, an' dem niggers shoot +dey heads off an' eat 'em. It didn' kill de niggers. Dem snakes was fat +an' tender, an' fried jes lak chicken.</p> + +<p>"Dere in Loos'anna we doan get no pay 'til de work is laid by. Den we'se +paid big money, no nickels. Mos' of de cullud mens go back to where dey +was raised.</p> + +<p>"Dat was afte' freedom, but my daddy say dat de niggers earn money on +Old Boss' place even durin' slav'ry. He give 'em every other Sat'dy fer +deyse'ves. Dey cut cordwood fer Boss, wimmens an' all. Mos' of de mens +cut two cords a day an' de wimmens one. Boss paid 'em a dollar a cord. +Dey save dat money, fer dey doan have to pay it out fer nothin'. Big +Boss didn' fail to feed us good an' give us our work clo'es. An' he paid +de doctor bills. Some cullud men saved enough to buy deyse'ves frum +Boss, as free as I is now.</p> + +<p>"Slav'ry was better in some ways 'an things is now. We allus got plen'y +ter eat, which we doan now. We can't make but fo' bits a day workin' out +now, an' 'at doan buy nothin' at de sto'. Co'se Boss only give us work +clo'es. When I was a kid I got two os'berg[FN: Osnaberg: the cheapest +grade of cotton cloth] shirts a year. I never wo' no shoes. I didn' know +whut a shoe was made fer, 'til I'se twelve or thirteen. We'd go rabbit +huntin' barefoot in de snow.</p> + +<p>"Didn' wear no Sunday clo'es. Dey wa'nt made fer me, 'cause I had +nowhere ter go. You better not let Boss ketch you off'n de place, less'n +he give you a pass to go. My Boss didn' 'low us to go to church, er to +pray er sing. Iffen he ketched us prayin' er singin' he whupped us. He +better not ketch you with a book in yo' han'. Didn' 'low it. I doan know +whut de reason was. Jess meanness, I reckin. I doan b'lieve my marster +ever went to church in his life, but he wa'nt mean to his niggers, 'cept +fer doin' things he doan 'low us to. He didn' care fer nothin' 'cept +farmin'.</p> + +<p>"Dere wa'nt no schools fer cullud people den. We didn' know whut a +school was. I never did learn to read.</p> + +<p>"We didn' have no mattresses on our beds like we has now. De chullun +slep' under de big high beds, on sacks. We was put under dem beds 'bout +eight o'clock, an' we'd jes better not say nothin' er make no noise +afte' den. All de cullud folks slep' on croker sacks full of hay er +straw.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever see any niggers punished? Yessum, I sho' has. Whupped an' +chained too. Day was whupped 'til de blood come, 'til dey back split all +to pieces. Den it was washed off wid salt, an' de nigger was put right +back in de fiel'. Dey was whupped fer runnin' away. Sometimes dey run +afte' 'em fer days an nights with dem big old blood houn's. Heap o' +people doan b'lieve dis. But I does, 'cause I seed it myse'f.</p> + +<p>"I'se lived here forty-five years, an' chipped turpentine mos' all my +life since I was free.</p> + +<p>"I'se had three wives. I didn' have no weddin's, but I mar'ied 'em +'cordin to law. I woan stay with one no other way. My fust two wives is +dead. Liza an' me has been mar'ied 'bout 'leven years. I never had but +one chile, an' 'at by my fust wife, an' he's dead. But my other two +wives had been mar'ied befo', an' had chullun. 'Simon here,' pointing to +a big buck of fifty-five sitting on the front porch, 'is Liza's oldest +boy.'"</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="CorneliusJames"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[JAMES CORNELIUS<br> +Magnolia, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>James Cornelius lives in Magnolia in the northwestern part of the town, +in the Negro settlement. He draws a Confederate pension of four dollars +per month. He relates events of his life readily.</p> + +<p>"I does not know de year I was borned but dey said I was 15 years old +when de War broke out an' dey tell me I'se past 90 now. Dey call me +James Cornelius an' all de white folks says I'se a good 'spectable +darkey.</p> + +<p>"I was borned in Franklin, Loos'anna. My mammy was named Chlo an' dey +said my pappy was named Henry. Dey b'longed to Mr. Alex Johnson an' +whil'st I was a baby my mammy, my brudder Henry, an' me was sol' to +Marse Sam Murry Sandell an' we has brung to Magnolia to live an' I niver +remember seein' my pappy ag'in.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry didn' have many slaves. His place was right whar young +Mister Lampton Reid is buildin' his fine house jes east of de town. My +mammy had to work in da house an' in de fiel' wid all de other niggers +an' I played in de yard wid de little chulluns, bofe white an' black. +Sometimes we played 'tossin' de ball' an' sometimes we played +'rap-jacket' an' sometimes 'ketcher.' An' when it rained we had to go in +de house an' Old Mistess made us behave.</p> + +<p>"I was taught how to work 'round de house, how to sweep an' draw water +frum de well an' how to kin'le fires an' keep de wood box filled wid +wood, but I was crazy to larn how to plow an' when I could I would slip +off an' get a old black man to let me walk by his side an' hold de lines +an' I thought I was big 'nouf to plow.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry didn' have no overseer. He made de slaves work, an' he was +good an' kind to 'em, but when dey didn' do right he would whip 'em, but +he didn' beat 'em. He niver stripped 'em to whip 'em. Yes ma'm, he +whipped me but I needed it. One day I tol' him I was not goin' to do +whut he tol' me to do—feed de mule—but when he got through wid me I +<u>wanted</u> to feed dat mule.</p> + +<p>"I come to live wid Marse Murry 'fo dar was a town here. Dar was only +fo' houses in dis place when I was a boy. I seed de fust train dat come +to dis here town an' it made so much noise dat I run frum it. Dat smoke +puffed out'n de top an' de bell was ringin' an' all de racket it did +make made me skeered.</p> + +<p>"I heered dem talkin' 'bout de war but I didn' know whut dey meant an' +one day Marse Murry said he had jined de Quitman Guards an' was goin' to +de war an' I had to go wid him. Old Missus cried an' my mammy cried but +I thought it would be fun. He tuk me 'long an' I waited on him. I kept +his boots shinin' so yer could see yer face in 'em. I brung him water +an' fed an' cur'ied his hoss an' put his saddle on de hoss fer him. Old +Missus tol' me to be good to him an' I was.</p> + +<p>"One day I was standin' by de hoss an' a ball kilt[FN: killed] de hoss +an' he fell over dead an' den I cried like it mout[FN: might] be my +brudder. I went way up in Tennessee an' den I was at Port Hudson. I seed +men fall dawn an' die; dey was kilt like pigs. Marse Murry was shot an' +I stayed wid him 'til dey could git him home. Dey lef' me behin' an' +Col. Stockdale an' Mr. Sam Matthews brung me home.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry died an' Old Missus run de place. She was good an' kind to +us all an' den she mar'ied afte' while to Mr. Gatlin. Dat was afte' de +war was over.</p> + +<p>"Whil'st I was in de war I seed Mr. Jeff Davis. He was ridin' a big hoss +an' he looked mighty fine. I niver seed him 'ceptin he was on de hoss.</p> + +<p>"Dey said old man Abe Lincoln was de nigger's friend, but frum de way +old Marse an' de sojers talk 'bout him I thought he was a mighty mean +man.</p> + +<p>"I doan recollec' when dey tol' us we was freed but I do know Mr. Gatlin +would promise to pay us fer our work an' when de time would come fer to +pay he said he didn' have it an' kep' puttin us off, an' we would work +some more an' git nothin' fer it. Old Missus would cry an' she was good +to us but dey had no money.</p> + +<p>"'Fo de war Marse Murry would wake all de niggers by blowin' a big +'konk' an' den when dinner time would come Old Missus would blow de +'konk' an' call dem to dinner. I got so I could blow dat 'konk' fer Old +Missus but oh! it tuk my wind.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry would 'low me to drive his team when he would go to market. +I could haul de cotton to Covin'ton an' bring back whut was to eat, an' +all de oxen could pull was put on dat wagon. We allus had good eatin +afte' we had been to market.</p> + +<p>"Every Chris'mus would come I got a apple an' some candy an' mammy would +cook cake an' pies fer Old Missus an' stack dem on de shelf in de big +kitchen an' we had every thing good to eat. Dem people sho' was good an' +kind to all niggers.</p> + +<p>"Afte de war de times was hard an' de white an' black people was +fightin' over who was to git de big office, an' den dere was mighty +leetle to eat. Dar was plen'y whiskey, but I'se kep' 'way frum all dat. +I was raised right. Old Missus taught me ter 'spect white folks an' some +of dem promised me land but I niver got it. All de land I'se ever got I +work mighty hard fer it an' I'se got it yit.</p> + +<p>"One day afte' Mr. Gatlin said he couldn' pay me I run 'way an' went to +New Orleans an' got a job haulin' cotton, an' made my 50 cents an' +dinner every day. I sho' had me plen'y money den. I stayed dere mighty +close on to fo' years an' den I went to Tylertown an' hauled cotton to +de railroad fer Mr. Ben Lampton. Mr. Lampton said I was de bes' driver +of his team he ever had caze I kep' his team fat.</p> + +<p>"Afte I come back to Miss'ssippi I mar'ied a woman named Maggie Ransom. +We stayed together 51 years. I niver hit her but one time. When we was +gittin' mar'ied I stopped de preacher right in de ceremony an' said to +her, 'Maggie, iffen you niver call me a liar I will niver call you one' +an' she said, 'Jim, I won't call you a liar.' I said, 'That's a bargain' +an' den de preacher went on wid de weddin'. Well, one day afte' we had +been mar'ied' bout fo' years, she ast[FN: asked] me how come I was so +late comin' to supper, an' I said I found some work to do fer a white +lady, an' she said, that's a lie,' an' right den I raised my han' an' +let her have it right by de side of de head, an' she niver called me a +liar ag'in. No ma'm, dat is somethin' I won't stand fer.</p> + +<p>"My old lady had seven chulluns dat lived to git grown. Two of 'em lived +here in Magnolia an' de others gone North. Maggie is daid an' I live wid +my boy Walter an' his wife Lena. Dey is mighty good to me. I owns dis +here house an' fo' acres but day live wid me an' I gits a Confed'rate +pension of fo' dollars a month. Dat gives me my coffee an' 'bacco. I'se +proud I'se a old sojer, I seed de men fall when dey was shot but I was +not skeered. We et bread when we could git it an' if we couldn' git it +we done widout.</p> + +<p>"Afte' I lef' Mr. Lampton I'se come here an' went to work fer Mr. Enoch +at Fernwood when his mill was jes a old rattletrap of a mill. I work fer +him 45 years. At fust I hauled timber out'n de woods an' afte' whil'st I +hauled lumber to town to build houses. I sometimes collec' fer de lumber +but I niver lost one nickle, an' dem white folks says I sho' was a +honest nigger.</p> + +<p>"I lived here on dis spot an' rode a wheel to Fernwood every day, an' +fed de teams an' hitched 'em to de wagons an' I was niver late an' niver +stopped fer anything, an' my wheel niver was in de shop. I niver 'lowed +anybody to prank wid it, an' dat wheel was broke up by my gran'chulluns.</p> + +<p>"Afte I quit work at de mill I'se come home an' plow gardens fer de +white folks an' make some more money. I sho' could plow.</p> + +<p>"I jined de New Zion Baptist Church here in Magnolia an' was baptized in +de Tanghipoa River one Sunday evenin'. I was so happy dat I shouted, me +an' my wife bofe. I'se still a member of dat church but I do not preach +an' I'm not no deacon; I'se jes a bench member an' a mighty po' one at +dat. My wife was buried frum dat church.</p> + +<p>"Doan know why I was not called Jim Sandell, but mammy said my pappy was +named Henry Cornelius an' I reckin I was give my pappy's name.</p> + +<p>"When I was a young man de white folks' Baptist Church was called Salem +an' it was on de hill whar de graveyard now is. It burnt down an' den +dey brung it to town, an' as I was goin' to tell yer I went possum +huntin' in dat graveyard one night. I tuk my ax an' dog 'long wid me an' +de dog, he treed a possum right in de graveyard. I cut down dat tree an' +started home, when all to once somethin' run by me an' went down dat big +road lak light'ning an' my dog was afte' it. Den de dog come back an' +lay down at my feet an' rolled on his back an' howled an' howled, an' +right den I knowed it was a sperit an' I throwed down my 'possum an' ax +an' beat de dog home. I tell you dat was a sperit—I'se seed plen'y of +'em. Dat ain't de only sperit I ever seed. I'se seen 'em a heap of +times. Well, dat taught me niver to hunt in a grave yard ag'in.</p> + +<p>"No ma'm, I niver seed a ghost but I tell yer I know dere is sperits. +Let me tell yer, anudder time I was goin' by de graveyard an' I seed a +man's head. He had no feet, but he kep' lookin' afte' me an' every way I +turned he wouldn' take his eye offen me, an' I walked fast an' he got +faster an' den I run an' den he run, an' when I got home I jes fell on +de bed an' hollered an' hollered an' tol' my old lady, an' she said I +was jes' skeered, but I'se sho' seed dat sperit an' I ain't goin' by de +grave yard at night by myse'f ag'in.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<p>An' let me tell yer dis. Right in front of dis house—yer see dat white +house?—Well, last Febr'ary a good old cullud lady died in dat house, +an' afte' she was buried de rest of de fambly moved away, an' every +night I kin look over to dat house an' see a light in de window. Dat +light comes an' goes, an' nobody lives dar. Doan I know dat is de sperit +of dat woman comin' back here to tell some of her fambly a message? Yes +ma'm, dat is her sperit an' dat house is hanted an' nobody will live dar +ag'in.</p> + +<p>"No ma'm, I can't read nor write."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="DavenportCharlie"></a> +<h3>Charlie Davenport, Ex-slave, Adams County<br> +FEC<br> +Edith Wyatt Moore<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +[CHARLIE DAVENPORT<br> +Natchez, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was named Charlie Davenport an' encordin'[FN: according] to de way I +figgers I ought to be nearly a hund'ed years old. Nobody knows my +birthday, 'cause all my white folks is gone.</p> + +<p>"I was born one night an' de very nex' mornin' my po' little mammy died. +Her name was Lucindy. My pa was William Davenport.</p> + +<p>"When I was a little mite dey turnt me over to de granny nurse on de +plantation. She was de one dat 'tended to de little pickaninnies. She +got a woman to nurse me what had a young baby, so I didn' know no +dif'ence. Any woman what had a baby 'bout my age would wet nurse me, so +I growed up in de quarters an' was as well an' as happy as any other +chil'.</p> + +<p>"When I could <u>tote taters</u>[FN: sweet potatoes] dey'd let me pick' +em up in de fiel'. Us always hid a pile away where us could git' em an' +roast' em at night.</p> + +<p>"Old mammy nearly always made a heap o' dewberry an' 'simmon[FN: +persimmon]. wine.</p> + +<p>"Us little tykes would gather black walnuts in de woods an' store 'em +under de cabins to dry.</p> + +<p>"At night when de work was all done an' de can'les was out us'd set +'roun' de fire an' eat cracked nuts an' taters. Us picked out de nuts +wid horse-shoe nails an' baked de taters in ashes. Den Mammy would pour +herse'f an' her old man a cup o' wine. Us never got none o' dat +less'n[FN: unless] us be's sick. Den she'd mess it up wid wild cherry +bark. It was bad den, but us gulped it down, anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Old Granny used to sing a song to us what went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +'Kinky head, whar-fore you skeered? +Old snake crawled off, 'cause he's afeared. +Pappy will smite 'im on de back +Wid a great big club—ker whack! Ker whack!' +</pre> + +<p>"Aventine, where I was born an' bred, was acrost Secon' Creek. It was a +big plantation wid 'bout a hund'ed head o' folks a-livin' on it. It was +only one o' de marster's places, 'cause he was one o' de riches' an' +highes' quality gent'men in de whole country. I's tellin' you de trufe, +us didn' b'long to no white trash. De marster was de Honorable Mister +Gabriel Shields hisse'f. Ever'body knowed 'bout him. He married a +Surget.</p> + +<p>"Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches' fam'ly in +de lan'. Dey was de out-fightin'es', out-cussin'es', fastes' ridin', +hardes' drinkin', out-spendin'es' folks I ever seen. But Lawd! Lawd! Dey +was gent'men even in dey cups. De ladies was beautiful wid big black +eyes an' sof' white han's, but dey was high strung, too.</p> + +<p>"De marster had a town mansion what's pictured in a lot o' books. It was +called 'Montebella.' De big columns still stan' at de end o' Shields +Lane. It burnt 'bout thirty years ago (1937).</p> + +<p>"I's part Injun. I aint got no Nigger nose an' my hair is so long I has +to keep it wropped[FN: wrapped]. I'se often heard my mammy was +redish-lookin' wid long, straight, black hair. Her pa was a full blooded +Choctaw an' mighty nigh as young as she was. I'se been tol' dat nobody +dast[FN: dared] meddle wid her. She didn' do much talkin', but she sho' +was a good worker. My pappy had Injun blood, too, but his hair was +kinky.</p> + +<p>"De Choctaws lived all 'roun' Secon' Creek. Some of 'em had cabins lak +settled folks. I can 'member dey las' chief. He was a tall pow'ful built +man named 'Big Sam.' What he said was de law, 'cause he was de boss o' +de whole tribe. One rainy night he was kilt in a saloon down in 'Natchez +Under de Hill.' De Injuns went wild wid rage an' grief. Dey sung an' +wailed an' done a heap o' low mutterin'. De sheriff kep' a steady watch +on' em, 'cause he was afeared dey would do somethin' rash. After a long +time he kinda let up in his vig'lance. Den one night some o' de Choctaw +mens slipped in town an' stobbed[FN: stabbed] de man dey b'lieved had +kilt Big Sam. I 'members dat well.</p> + +<p>"As I said b'fore, I growed up in de quarters. De houses was clean an' +snug. Us was better fed den dan I is now, an' warmer, too. Us had +blankets an' quilts filled wid home raised wool an' I jus' loved layin' +in de big fat feather bed a-hearin' de rain patter on de roof.</p> + +<p>"All de little darkeys he'ped bring in wood. Den us swept de yards wid +brush brooms. Den sometimes us played together in de street what run de +length o' de quarters. Us th'owed horse-shoes, jumped poles, walked on +stilts, an' played marbles. Sometimes us made bows an' arrows. Us could +shoot 'em, too, jus lak de little Injuns.</p> + +<p>"A heap of times old Granny would brush us hide wid a peach tree limb, +but us need it. Us stole aigs[FN: eggs] an' roasted 'em. She sho' +wouldn' stan' for no stealin' if she knowed it.</p> + +<p>"Us wore lowell-cloth shirts. It was a coarse tow-sackin'. In winter us +had linsey-woolsey pants an' heavy cow-hide shoes. Dey was made in three +sizes—big, little, an' mejum[FN: medium]. Twant no right or lef'. Dey +was sorta club-shaped so us could wear 'em on either foot.</p> + +<p>"I was a teasin', mis-che-vious chil' an' de overseer's little gal got +it in for me. He was a big, hard fisted Dutchman bent on gittin' riches. +He trained his pasty-faced gal to tattle on us Niggers. She got a heap +o' folks whipped. I knowed it, but I was hasty: One day she hit me wid a +stick an' I th'owed it back at her. 'Bout dat time up walked her pa. He +seen what I done, but he didn' see what she done to me. But it wouldn' +a-made no dif'ence, if he had.</p> + +<p>"He snatched me in de air an' toted me to a stump an' laid me 'crost it. +I didn' have but one thickness 'twixt me an' daylight. Gent'men! He laid +it on me wid dat stick. I thought I'd die. All de time his mean little +gal was a-gloatin' in my misery. I yelled an' prayed to de Lawd 'til he +quit.</p> + +<p>"Den he say to me,</p> + +<p>'From now on you works in de fiel'. I aint gwine a-have no vicious boy +lak you 'roun de lady folks.' I was too little for fiel' work, but de +nex' mornin' I went to choppin' cotton. After dat I made a reg'lar fiel' +han'. When I growed up I was a ploughman. I could sho' lay off a pretty +cotton row, too.</p> + +<p>"Us slaves was fed good plain grub. 'Fore us went to de fiel' us had a +big breakfas' o' hot bread, 'lasses, fried salt meat dipped in corn +meal, an' fried taters[FN: sweet potatoes]. Sometimes us had fish an' +rabbit meat. When us was in de fiel', two women 'ud come at dinner-time +wid baskets filled wid hot pone, baked taters, corn roasted in de +shucks, onion, fried squash, an' b'iled pork. Sometimes dey brought +buckets o' cold buttermilk. It sho' was good to a hongry man. At +supper-time us had hoecake an' cold vi'tals. Sometimes dey was sweetmilk +an' collards.</p> + +<p>"Mos' ever' slave had his own little garden patch an' was 'lowed to cook +out of it.</p> + +<p>"Mos' ever plantation kep' a man busy huntin' an' fishin' all de time. +(If dey shot a big buck, us had deer meat roasted on a spit.)</p> + +<p>"On Sundays us always had meat pie or fish or fresh game an' roasted +taters an' coffee. On Chris'mus de marster 'ud give us chicken an' +barrels o' apples an' oranges. 'Course, ever' marster warnt as free +handed as our'n was. (He was sho' 'nough quality.) I'se hear'd dat a +heap o' cullud people never had nothin' good t'eat.</p> + +<p>"I warnt learnt nothin' in no book. Don't think I'd a-took to it, +nowhow. Dey learnt de house servants to read. Us fiel' han's never +knowed nothin' 'cept weather an' dirt an' to weigh cotton. Us was learnt +to figger a little, but dat's all.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I was 'bout fifteen when hones' Abe Lincoln what called +hisse'f a rail-splitter come here to talk wid us. He went all th'ough de +country jus' a-rantin' an' a-preachin' 'bout us bein' his black +brothers. De marster didn' know nothin' 'bout it, 'cause it was sorta +secret-lak. It sho' riled de Niggers up an' lots of 'em run away. I sho' +hear'd him, but I didn' pay 'im no min'.</p> + +<p>"When de war broke out dat old Yankee Dutch overseer o' our'n went back +up North, where he b'longed. Us was pow'ful glad an' hoped he'd git his +neck broke.</p> + +<p>"After dat de Yankees come a-swoopin' down on us. My own pappy took off +wid 'em. He j'ined a comp'ny what fit[FN: fought] at Vicksburg. I was +plenty big 'nough to fight, but I didn' hanker to tote no gun. I stayed +on de plantation an' put in a crop.</p> + +<p>"It was pow'ful on easy times after dat. But what I care 'bout freedom? +Folks what was free was in misery firs' one way an' den de other.</p> + +<p>"I was on de plantation closer to town, den. It was called 'Fish Pond +Plantation.' De white folks come an' tol' us we mus' burn all de cotton +so de enemy couldn' git it.</p> + +<p>"Us piled it high in de fiel's lak great mountains. It made my innards +hurt to see fire 'tached to somethin' dat had cost us Niggers so much +labor an' hones' sweat. If I could a-hid some o' it in de barn I'd +a-done it, but de boss searched ever'where.</p> + +<p>"De little Niggers thought it was fun. Dey laughed an' brung out big +armfuls from de cotton house. One little black gal clapped her han's an' +jumped in a big heap. She sunk down an' down' til she was buried deep. +Den de wind picked up de flame an' spread it lak lightenin'. It spread +so fas' dat 'fore us could bat de eye, she was in a mountain of fiah. +She struggled up all covered wid flames, a-screamin',' Lawdy, he'p me!' +Us snatched her out an' rolled her on de groun', but twant no use. She +died in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"De marster's sons went to war. De one what us loved bes' never come +back no more. Us mourned him a-plenty, 'cause he was so jolly an' +happy-lak, an' free wid his change. Us all felt cheered when he come +'roun'.</p> + +<p>"Us Niggers didn' know nothin' 'bout what was gwine on in de outside +worl'. All us knowed was dat a war was bein' fit. Pussonally, I b'lieve +in what Marse Jefferson Davis done. He done de only thing a gent'man +could a-done. He tol' Marse Abe Lincoln to 'tend to his own bus'ness an' +he'd 'tend to his'n. But Marse Lincoln was a fightin' man an' he come +down here an' tried to run other folks' plantations. Dat made Marse +Davis so all fired mad dat he spit hard 'twixt his teeth an' say, 'I'll +whip de socks off dem dam Yankees.'</p> + +<p>"Dat's how it all come 'bout.</p> + +<p>"My white folks los' money, cattle, slaves, an' cotton in de war, but +dey was still better off dan mos' folks.</p> + +<p>"Lak all de fool Niggers o' dat time I was right smart bit by de freedom +bug for awhile. It sounded pow'ful nice to be tol':</p> + +<p>'You don't have to chop cotton no more. You can th'ow dat hoe down an' +go fishin' whensoever de notion strikes you. An' you can roam' roun' at +night an' court gals jus' as late as you please. Aint no marster gwine +a-say to you, "Charlie, you's got to be back when de clock strikes +nine."'</p> + +<p>"I was fool 'nough to b'lieve all dat kin' o' stuff. But to tell de +hones' truf, mos' o' us didn' know ourse'fs no better off. Freedom meant +us could leave where us'd been born an' bred, but it meant, too, dat us +had to scratch for us ownse'fs. Dem what lef' de old plantation seemed +so all fired glad to git back dat I made up my min' to stay put. I +stayed right wid my white folks as long as I could.</p> + +<p>"My white folks talked plain to me. Dey say real sad-lak, 'Charlie, +you's been a dependence, but now you can go if you is so desirous. But +if you wants to stay wid us you can share-crop. Dey's a house for you +an' wood to keep you warm an' a mule to work. We aint got much cash, but +dey's de lan' an' you can count on havin' plenty o' vit'als. Do jus' as +you please.' When I looked at my marster an' knowed he needed me, I +pleased to stay. My marster never forced me to do nary thing' bout it. +Didn' nobody make me work after de war, but dem Yankees sho' made my +daddy work. Dey put a pick in his han' stid[FN: instead] o' a gun. Dey +made' im dig a big ditch in front o' Vicksburg. He worked a heap harder +for his Uncle Sam dan he'd ever done for de marster.</p> + +<p>"I hear'd tell 'bout some Nigger sojers a-plunderin' some houses: Out at +Pine Ridge dey kilt a white man named Rogillio. But de head Yankee +sojers in Natchez tried 'em for somethin' or nother an' hung 'em on a +tree out near de Charity Horspital. Dey strung up de ones dat went to +Mr. Sargent's door one night an' shot him down, too. All dat hangin' +seemed to squelch a heap o' lousy goin's-on.</p> + +<p>"Lawd! Lawd! I knows 'bout de Kloo Kluxes. I knows a-plenty. Dey was +sho' 'nough devils a-walkin' de earth a-seekin' what dey could devour. +Dey larruped de hide of'n de uppity Niggers an' driv[FN: drove] de white +trash back where dey b'longed.</p> + +<p>"Us Niggers didn' have no secret meetin's. All us had was church +meetin's in arbors out in de woods. De preachers 'ud exhort us dat us +was de chillun o' Israel in de wilderness an' de Lawd done sont us to +take dis lan' o' milk an' honey. But how us gwine a-take lan' what's +already been took?</p> + +<p>"I sho' aint never hear'd' bout no plantations bein' 'vided up, neither. +I hear'd a lot o' yaller Niggers spoutin' off how dey was gwine a-take +over de white folks' lan' for back wages. Dem bucks jus' took all dey +wages out in talk. 'Cause I aint never seen no lan' 'vided up yet.</p> + +<p>"In dem days nobody but Niggers an' shawl-strop[FN: carpet baggers] +folks voted. Quality folks didn' have nothin' to do wid such truck. If +dey had a-wanted to de Yankees wouldn' a-let 'em. My old marster didn' +vote an' if anybody knowed what was what he did. Sense didn' count in +dem days. It was pow'ful ticklish times an' I let votin' alone.</p> + +<p>"De shawl-strop folks what come in to take over de country tol' us dat +us had a right to go to all de balls, church meetin's, an' 'tainments de +white folks give. But one night a bunch o' uppity Niggers went to a +'tainment in Memorial Hall. Dey dressed deysef's fit to kill an' walked +down de aisle an' took seats in de very front. But jus' 'bout time dey +got good set down, de curtain drapped[FN: dropped] an' de white folks +riz[FN: arose] up widout a-sayin' airy word. Dey marched out de buildin' +wid dey chins up an' lef' dem Niggers a-settin' in a empty hall.</p> + +<p>"Dat's de way it happen ever' time a Nigger tried to git too uppity. Dat +night after de breakin' up o' dat' tainment, de Kloo Kluxes rid[FN: +rode] th'ough de lan'. I hear'd dey grabbed ever' Nigger what walked +down dat aisle, but I aint hear'd yet what dey done wid 'em.</p> + +<p>"Dat same thing happened ever' time a Nigger tried to act lak he was +white.</p> + +<p>"A heap o' Niggers voted for a little while. Dey was a black man what +had office. He was named Lynch. He cut a big figger up in Washington. Us +had a sheriff named Winston. He was a ginger cake Nigger an' pow'ful +mean when he got riled. Sheriff Winston was a slave an', if my mem'ry +aint failed me, so was Lynch.</p> + +<p>"My granny tol' me 'bout a slave uprisin' what took place when I was a +little boy. None o' de marster's Niggers' ud have nothin' to do wid it. +A Nigger tried to git 'em to kill dey white folks an' take dey lan'. But +what us want to kill old Marster an' take de lan' when dey was de bes' +frien's us had? Dey caught de Nigger an' hung 'im to a limb.</p> + +<p>"Plenty folks b'lieved in charms, but I didn' take no stock in such +truck. But I don't lak for de moon to shine on me when I's a-sleepin'.</p> + +<p>"De young Niggers is headed straight for hell. All dey think' bout is +drinkin' hard likker, goin' to dance halls, an' a-ridin' in a old rattle +trap car. It beats all how dey brags an' wastes things. Dey aint one +whit happier dan folks was in my day. I was as proud to git a apple as +dey is to git a pint o' likker. Course, schools he'p some, but looks lak +all mos' o' de young'n's is studyin' 'bout is how to git out o' hones' +labor.</p> + +<p>"I'se seen a heap o' fools what thinks 'cause they is wise in books, +they is wise in all things.</p> + +<p>"Mos' all my white folks is gone, now. Marse Randolph Shields is a +doctor 'way off in China. I wish I could git word to' im, 'cause I know +he'd look after me if he knowed I was on charity. I prays de Lawd to see +'em all when I die."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="EmanuelGabe"></a> +<h3>Gabe Emanuel, Ex-slave, Claiborne County<br> +FEC<br> +Esther de Sola<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +GABE EMANUEL<br> +Port Gibson, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Gabe Emanuel is the blackest of Negroes. He is stooped and wobbly from +his eighty-five years and weighs about one hundred and thirty-five +pounds. His speech is somewhat hindered by an unbelievable amount of +tobacco rolled to one side of his mouth. He lives in the Negro quarters +of Port Gibson. Like most ex-slaves he has the courtesy and the +gentleness of a southern gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Lawsy! Dem slav'ry days done been s'long ago I jus' 'member a few +things dat happen den. But I's sho' mighty pleased to relate dat what I +recollec'.</p> + +<p>"I was de house boy on old judge Stamps' plantation. He lived 'bout nine +miles east o' Port Gibson an' he was a mighty well-to-do gent'man in dem +days. He owned 'bout 500 or 600 Niggers. He made plenty o' money out o' +his fiel's. Dem Niggers worked for dey keep. I 'clare, dey sho' did.</p> + +<p>"Us 'ud dike out in spick an' span clean clothes come Sund'ys. Ever'body +wore homespun clo'es den. De mistis an' de res' o' de ladies in de Big +House made mos' of 'em. De cullud wimmins wore some kin' o' dress wid +white aprons an' de mens wore overalls an' homespun pants an' shirts. +Course, all de time us gits han'-me-downs from de folks in de Big House. +Us what was a-servin' in de Big House wore de marster's old dress suits. +Now, dat was somep'n'! Mos' o' de time dey didn' fit—maybe de pants +hung a little loose an' de tails o' de coat hung a little long. Me bein' +de house boy, I used to look mighty sprucy when I put on my frock tail.</p> + +<p>"De mistis used to teach us de Bible on Sund'ys an' us always had Sund'y +school. Us what lived in de Big House an' even some o' de fiel' han's +was taught to read an' write by de white folks.</p> + +<p>"De fiel' han's sho' had a time wid dat man, Duncan. He was de overseer +man out at de plantation. Why, he'd have dem poor Niggers so dey didn' +know if dey was gwine in circles or what.</p> + +<p>"One day I was out in de quarters when he brung back old man Joe from +runnin' away. Old Joe was always a-runnin' away an' dat man Duncan put +his houn' dogs on 'im an' brung 'im back. Dis time I's speakin' 'bout +Marster Duncan put his han' on old Joe's shoulder an' look him in de eye +sorrowful-lak. 'Joe', he say, 'I's sho' pow'ful tired o' huntin' you. +I'spect I's gwina have to git de marster to sell you some'r's else. +Another marster gwina whup you in de groun' if he ketch you runnin' 'way +lak dis. I's sho sad for you if you gits sol' away. Us gwina miss you +'roun' dis plantation.' After dat old Joe stayed close in an' dey warnt +no more trouble out o' him.</p> + +<p>"Dat big white man called Duncan, he seen dat de Niggers b'have +deyse'ves right. Dey called him de 'Boss Man.' He always carried a big +whup an' when dem Niggers got sassy, dey got de whup 'crost dey hides.</p> + +<p>"Lawsy! I's recallin' de time when de big old houn' dog what fin' de +run-away Niggers done die wid fits. Dat man Duncan, he say us gwina hol' +fun'al rites over dat dog. He say us Niggers might better be's pow'ful +sad when us come to dat fun'al. An' dem Niggers was sad over de death o' +dat poor old dog what had chased 'em all over de country. Dey all stan' +'roun' a-weepin' an' a-mournin'. Ever' now an' den dey'd put water on +dey eyes an' play lak dey was a-weepin' bitter, bitter tears. 'Poor old +dog, she done died down dead an' can't kotch us no more. Poor old dog. +Amen! De Lawd have mercy!'</p> + +<p>"De Judge was a great han' for 'tainment[FN: entertainment]. He always +had a house full o' folks an' he sho' give 'em de bes' o' food an' +likker. Dey was a big room he kep' all polished up lak glass. Ever' now +an' den he'd th'ow a big party an' 'vite mos' ever'body in Mississippi +to come. Dey was fo' Niggers in de quarters what could sing to beat de +ban', an' de Judge would git 'em to sing for his party.</p> + +<p>"I 'member how 'cited I'd git when one o' dem shindigs 'ud come off. I +sho' would strut den. De mistis 'ud dress me up an' I'd carry de likker +an' drinks' roun' 'mongst de peoples. 'Would you prefer dis here mint +julip, Marster? Or maybe you'd relish dis here special wine o' de +Judge's. 'Dem white folks sho' could lap up dem drinks, too. De Judge +had de bes' o' ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"Dey was always a heap o' fresh meat in de meat house. De pantry fairly +bu'sted wid all kin' o' preserves an' sweetnin's. Lawdy! I mean to tell +you dem was de <u>good</u> days.</p> + +<p>"I 'member I used to hate ever' Wednesday. Dat was de day I had to +polish de silver. Lawsy! It took me mos' all day. When I'd think I was +'bout th'ough de mistis was sho' to fin' some o' 'dat silver dat had to +be did over.</p> + +<p>"Den de war broke out. De marster went 'way wid de sojers an' gradual' +de hardness come to de plantation.</p> + +<p>"Us never knowed when dem Yankee sojers would come spen' a few weeks at +de Big House. Dey'd eat up all de marster's vit'als an' drink up all his +good likker.</p> + +<p>"I 'member one time de Yankees camped right in de front yard. Dey took +all de meat out'n de curin' house. Well sir! I done 'cide by myse'f dat +no Yankee gwina eat all us meat. So dat night I slips in dey camp; I +stole back dat meat from dem thievin' sojers an' hid it, good. Ho! Ho! +Ho! But dey never did fin' dat meat.</p> + +<p>"One time us sot fire to a bridge de Yankees had to cross to git to de +plantation. Dey had to camp on de other side, 'cause dey was too lazy to +put out de fire. Dat's jus' lak I figgered it.</p> + +<p>"When de war was over my mammy an' pappy an' us five chillun travelled +here to Port Gibson to live. My mammy hired out for washin'. I don't +know zackly what my pappy done.</p> + +<p>"Lincoln was de man dat sot us free. I don't recollec' much 'bout 'im +'ceptin' what I hear'd in de Big House 'bout Lincoln doin' dis an' +Lincoln doin' dat.</p> + +<p>"Lawdy! I sho' was happy when I was a slave.</p> + +<p>"De Niggers today is de same as dey always was, 'ceptin' dey's gittin' +more money to spen'. Dey aint got nobody to make' em' 'have deyse'ves +an' keep 'em out o' trouble, now.</p> + +<p>"I lives here in Port Gibson an' does mos' ever' kin' o' work. I tries +to live right by ever'body, but I 'spect I won't be here much longer.</p> + +<p>"I'se been married three times.</p> + +<p>"When de time comes to go I hopes to be ready. De Lawd God Almighty +takes good care o' his chillun if dey be's good an' holy."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="FranksDora"></a> +<h3>Dora Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +DORA FRANKS<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Dora Franks, ex-slave, lives at Aberdeen, Monroe County. She is about +five feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. Her hair is inclined to be curly +rather than kinky. She is very active and does most of her own work.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Choctaw County, but I never knowed zackly how old I was, +'cause none o' my folks could read an' write. I reckon I be's 'bout a +hund'ed, 'cause I was a big girl long time fo' Surrender. I was old +'nough to marry two years after dat.</p> + +<p>"My mammy come from Virginny. Her name was Harriet Brewer. My daddy was +my young Marster. His name was Marster George Brewer an' my mammy always +tol' me dat I was his'n. I knew dat dere was some dif'ence 'tween me an' +de res' o' her chillun, 'cause dey was all coal black, an' I was even +lighter dan I is now. Lawd, it's bean to my sorrow many a time, 'cause +de chillun used to chase me 'round an' holler at me, 'Old yallow +Nigger.' Dey didn' treat me good, neither.</p> + +<p>"I stayed in de house mos' o' de time wid Miss Emmaline. Miss Emmaline's +hair was <u>dat</u> white, den. I loved her' cause she was so good to +me. She taught me how to weave an' spin. 'Fore I was bigger'n a minute I +could do things dat lots o' de old han's couldn' come nigh doin'. She +an' Marse Bill had 'bout eight chillun, but mos' of 'em was grown when I +come 'long. Dey was all mighty good to me an' wouldn' 'low nobody to +hurt me.</p> + +<p>"I 'members one time when dey all went off an' lef' me wid a old black +woman call Aunt Ca'line what done de cookin' 'round de place some o' de +time. When dey lef' de house I went in de kitchen an' asked her for a +piece o' white bread lak de white folks eat. She haul off an' slap me +down an' call me all kin' o' names dat I didn' know what dey meant. My +nose bled an' ruint de nice clean dress I had on. When de Mistis come +back Marse George was wid 'er. She asked me what on earth happen to me +an' I tol' 'er. Dey call Ca'line in de room an' asked her if what I say +was de truf. She tell 'em it was, an' dey sent 'er away. I hear tell dat +dey whup her so hard dat she couldn' walk no mo'.</p> + +<p>"Us never had no big fun'als or weddin's on de place. Didn' have no +marryin' o' any kin'. Folks in dem days jus' sorter hitched up together +an' call deyse'ves man an' wife. All de cullud folks was buried on what +dey called Platnum Hill. Dey didn' have no markers nor nothin' at de +graves. Dey was jus' sunk in places. My brother Frank showed me once +where my mammy was buried. Us didn' have no preachin', or singin', or +nothin', neither. Us didn' even git to have meetin's on Sund'y less us +slip off an' go to some other plantation. Course, I got to go wid de +white folks sometime an' set in de back, or on de steps. Dat was whan I +was little.</p> + +<p>"Lots o' Niggers would slip off from one plantation to de other to see +some other Niggers. Dey would always manage to git back' fore daybreak. +De wors' thing I ever heard 'bout dat was once when my Uncle Alf run off +to 'jump de broom.' Dat was what dey called goin' to see a woman. He +didn' come back by daylight, so dey put de Nigger hounds after him. Dey +smelled his trail down in de swamp an' foun' where he was hidin'.</p> + +<p>"Now, he was one of da biggest Niggers on de place an' a powerful fas' +worker. But dey took an' give him 100 lashes wid de cat o' ninety-nine +tails. His back was somethin' awful, but dey put him in de fiel' to work +while de blood was still a-runnin'. He work right hard 'til dey lef'. +Den, when he got up to de end o' de row nex' to de swamp, he lit out +ag'in.</p> + +<p>"Dey never foun' 'im dat time. Dey say he foun' a cave an' fix him up a +room whar he could live. At nights he would come out on de place an' +steal enough t'eat an' cook it in his little dugout. When de war was +over an' de slaves was freed, he come out. When I saw him, he look lak a +hairy ape, 'thout no clothes on an' hair growin' all over his body.</p> + +<p>"Dem was pretty good days back in slav'ry times. My Marstar had a whole +passal o' Niggers on his place. When any of 'em would git sick dey would +go to de woods an' git herbs an roots an' make tea for 'em to drink. +Hogweed an' May apples was de bes' things I knowed of. Sometimes old +Mistis doctored 'em herse'f. One time a bunch o' us chillun was playin' +in de woods an foun' some o' dem May apples. Us et a lot of 'em an' got +awful sick. Dey dosed us up on grease an' Samson snake root to clean us +out. An' it sho' done a good job. I'se been a-usin' dat snake root ever +since.</p> + +<p>"De firs' thing dat I 'member hearin' 'bout de war was one day when +Marse George come in de house an' tell Miss Emmaline dat dey's gwine +have a bloody war. He say he feared all de slaves 'ud be took away. She +say if dat was true she feel lak jumpin' in de well. I hate to hear her +say dat, but from dat minute I started prayin' for freedom. All de res' +o' de women done de same.</p> + +<p>"De war started pretty soon after dat an' all de men folks went off an' +lef' de plantation for de women an' de Niggers to run. Us seen de sojers +pass by mos' ever' day. Once de Yankees come an' stole a lot o' de +horses an' somp'in' t'eat. Dey even took de trunk full o' 'Federate +money dat was hid in de swamp. How dey foun' dat us never knowed.</p> + +<p>"Marse George come home' bout two years after de war started an' married +Miss Martha Ann. Dey had always been sweethearts. Dey was promised 'fore +he lef'.</p> + +<p>"Marse Lincoln an' Marse Jeff Davis is two I 'members 'bout. But, +Lawzee! Dat was a long time back. Us liked Marse Jeff Davis de bes' on +de place. Us even made up a song 'bout him, but, I 'clare 'fore +goodness, I can't even 'member de firs' line o' dat song. You see, when +I got 'ligion, I asked de Lawd to take all de other songs out o' my head +an' make room for his word.</p> + +<p>"Since den it's de hardes' thing in de worl' for me to 'member de songs +us used to dance by. I do' member a few lak 'Shoo, Fly', 'Old Dan +Tucker', an' 'Run, Nigger, Run, de Pateroller Catch You.' I don' 'member +much o' de words. I does 'member a little o' 'Old Dan Tucker.' It went +dis way:</p> + +<pre> +'Old Don Tucker was a mighty mean man, +He beat his wife wid a fryin' pan. +She hollered an' she cried, "I's gwineter go, +Dey's plenty o' men, won't beat me so." + +'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, +You come too late to git yo' supper. + +'Old Dan Tucker, he got drunk, +Fell in de fire, kicked up a chunk, +Red hot coal got down his shoe +Oh, Great Lawd, how de ashes flew. + +'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, +You come too late to git yo' supper.' +</pre> + +<p>"When de war was over, my brother Frank slipped in de house where I was +still a-stayin'. He tol' me us was free an' for me to come out wid de +res'. 'Fore sundown dere warnt one Nigger lef' on de place. I hear tell +later dat de Mistis an' de gals had to git out an' work in de fiel's to +he'p gather in de crop.</p> + +<p>"Frank foun' us a place to work an' put us all in de fiel'. I never had +worked in de fiel' before. I'd faint away mos' ever'day 'bout eleven +o'clock. It was de heat. Some of 'em would have to tote me to de house. +I'd soon come to. Den I had to go back to de fiel'. Us was on Marse +Davis Cox's place den.</p> + +<p>"Two years later I met Pet Franks an' us married. De Cox's was good +folks an' give us a big weddin'. All de white folks an' de Niggers for +miles a-round come to see us git married. De Niggers had a big supper +an' had a peck t'eat. Us had eight chillun, but aint but three of 'em +livin'. Me an' Pet aint been a-livin' together for de las' twenty-three +years. Us jus' couldn' git 'long together, so us quit. He lives out at +Acker's Fishing Lodge now an' does de cookin' for 'em.</p> + +<p>"I never will forgit de Klu Klux Klan. Never will [TR: "I" deleted] +forgit de way dat horn soun' at night when dey was a-goin' after some +mean Nigger. Us'd all run an' hide. Us was livin' on de Troup place den, +near old Hamilton, in one o' de brick houses back o' de house whar dey +used to keep de slaves. Marse Alec Troup was one o' de Klu Klux's an' so +was Marse Thad Willis dat lived close by. Dey'd make plans together +sometime an' I'd hear 'em. One time dey caught me lis'nin', but dey +didn' do nothin' to me, 'cause dey knowed I warnt gwine tell. Us was all +good Niggers on his place.</p> + +<p>"Lawd, Miss, dese here young folks today is gwine straight to de Devil. +All dey do all day an' all night is run 'round an' drink corn likker an' +ride in automobiles. I'se got a grand-daughter here, an' she's dat wil'. +I worries a right smart 'bout her, but it don't do no good, 'cause her +mammy let her do jus' lak she please anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Den I tells you, de one thing I worries 'bout mos'. Dat is de white +folks what lives here 'mongst de Niggers. You know what kinda folks dey +is, an' it sho' is bad influence on 'em. You knows Niggers aint s'posed +to always know de right from de wrong. Dey aint got Marsters to teach +'em now. For de white folks to come down here an' do lak dey do, I tells +you, it aint right. De quality white folks ought-a do somethin' bout it.</p> + +<p>"I's had a right hard life, but I puts my faith in de Lawd an' I know +ever'thing gwine come out all right. I's lived a long life an' will soon +be a hund'ed, I guess. I's glad dat slav'ry is over, 'cause de Bible +don't say nothin' 'bout it bein right. I's a good Christian. I gits +sort-a res'less mos' o' de time an' has to keep busy to keep from +thinkin' too much."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="FranksPet"></a> +<h3>Pet Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +PET FRANKS<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Uncle Pet, 92 year old ex-slave, is the favorite of Ackers' Fishing +Lodge which is situated 14 miles north of Aberdeen, Monroe County. He is +low and stockily built. His ancestry is pure African. Scarcely topping +five feet one inch, he weighs about 150 pounds. Though he walks with the +slightest limp, he is still very active and thinks nothing of cooking +for the large groups who frequent the lodge. He has his own little +garden and chickens which he tends with great care.</p> + +<p>"I knows all 'bout slav'ry an' de war. I was right dere on de spot when +it all happened. I wish to goodness I was back dere now, not in de war, +but in de slav'ry times. Niggers where I lived didn' have nothin' to +worry 'bout in dem days. Dey aint got no sense now-a-days. All dey +b'lieves in now is drinkin' an' carousin'. Dey aint got no use for +nothin' but a little corn likker an' a fight. I dont b'lieve in no such +gwine-on, no sir-ree. Dat's de reason I stays out here by myse'f all de +time. I don't want to have nothin' to do wid 'em. I goes to town 'bout +once a mont' to git s'pplies, but I don' never fool 'roun' wid dem +Niggers den. I gits 'long wid my white folks, too. All da mens an' +wimmens what comes out to de club is pow'ful good to me.</p> + +<p>"I was born up near Bartley's Ferry right on de river. De way I +cal'clates my age makes me 'bout 92 years old. My firs' Marster was name +Mr. Harry Allen. He died when I was a boy an' I don't 'member much 'bout +him. De Mistis, dat was his wife, married ag'in an' dat husband's name +was Marse Jimmy Tatum. Dey was sho' good white folks. My mammy an' pappy +was name Martha an' Martin Franks. Marse Harry brung 'em down from +Virginny, I thinks. Or else he bought 'em from Marse Tom Franks in West +Point. Anyways dey come from Virginny an' I don't know which one of 'em +brought 'em down here. Dey did b'long to Marse Tom. I knows dat.</p> + +<p>"Bartley's used to be some place. My folks had a big hotel down on de +river bank. Dey was a heap of stores right on de bank, too. De river +done wash' em all 'way now. Dey aint nothin' lef'. But Lawdy! When I was +a kid de boats used to come a-sailin' up de river 'bout once a week an' +I used to know de names o' all de big ones. Dey would stop an' pick up a +load o' cotton to carry to Mobile. When dey come back dey would be +loaded wid all kin' o' gran' things.</p> + +<p>"Us chillun had a big time playin' roun' de dock. Us played 'Hide de +Switch' an' 'Goose and Gander' in de day time. Den at nighttime when de +moon was shinin' big an' yaller, us'd play 'Ole Molly Bright.' Dat was +what us call de moon. Us'd make up stories 'bout her. Dat was de bes' +time o' all. Sometimes de old folks would join in an' tell tales too. +Been so long I forgits de tales, but I know dey was good'ns.</p> + +<p>"When I got big 'nough to work I he'ped 'roun' de lot mostly. Fac' is +I'se worked right 'roun' white folks mos' all my days. I did work in de +fiel' some, but us had a good overseer. His name was Marse Frank Beeks +an' he was good as any white man dat ever lived. I don't never 'member +him whippin' one o' de slaves, leastways not real whippin's. I do +'member hearin' 'bout slaves on other places gittin' whipped sometimes. +I guess Niggers lak dat wished dey was free, but I didn' want to leave +my white folks, ever.</p> + +<p>"Us had preachin' an' singin'. Dey was some mighty good meetin's on de +place. Old Daddy Young was 'bout de bes' preacher us ever had. Dey was +plenty o' Niggers dere, 'cause it was a powerful big place. Old Daddy +could sho' make 'em shout an' roll. Us have to hol' some of 'em dey'd +git so happy. I knowed I had 'ligion when I got baptized. Dey took me +out in de river an' it took two of 'em to put me under. When I come up I +tol' 'em, 'turn me loose, I b'lieve I can walk right on top o' de +water.' Dey don' have no 'ligion lak dat now-a-days.</p> + +<p>"All de Niggers on de Tatum place had dey own patches where dey could +plant what ever day wanted to. Dey'd work 'em on Satu'd'ys. When dey +sol' anything from dey patch Mistis 'ud let 'em keep de money. When de +boats went down to Mobile us could sen' down for anything us want to +buy. One time I had $10.00 saved up an' I bought lots o' pretties wid +it. Us always had plenty t'eat, too. All de greens, eggs, wheat, corn, +meat, an' chitlins dat anybody'd want. When hog killin' time come us +always have some meat lef' over from de year befo'. Us made soap out of +dat.</p> + +<p>"When da war broke out I went right wid de Marster up to Corinth. I +stayed up dere in de camp for de longes' time a-waitin' on de sojers an' +nussing de sick ones. I never seen much o' de real fightin'. But I heard +de cannons roar an' I waited on de sojers what got wounded.</p> + +<p>"After dey moved camp de Marster sont me back home to he'p look after de +Mistis an' chillun. De 'Federates had some cattle hid 'way in us pasture +an' I looked after 'em. One night when I was comin' home I met 'bout a +hund'ed Yankees comin' over a hill. Dey saw de cattle an' took 'bout +ha'f of 'em. I skidooed. Dey aint kotched me yet.</p> + +<p>"After de war de Yankees called deyse'ves 'Publicans. Dey come down here +an' wanted all de Niggers to vote de 'Publican ticket. Den, lemme tell +you, I went to work for my white folks. Dey was a-holdin' big meetin's +an' speakin's, but I was workin', too. On 'lection day I brung in 1500 +Niggers to vote de Democrat ticket. De folks what saw us comin' over de +hill say us look like a big black cloud. I reckon us sounded lak one wid +all dat hollerin' an' shoutin'.</p> + +<p>"All my folks was dead soon, an' I went 'bout lak I was in a trance for +awhile. I went firs' one place an' den 'nother.</p> + +<p>"When I was on de Cox place I met Dora an' us married. Dat was a big +weddin' an' a big feas'. Den us moved over to de Troup place an' stayed +dere for a long spell. While us was dere I 'member de Klu Kluxers an' +all de carryin' on. Dey would dress up in white sheets an' come 'roun' +an' scare all de Niggers. Dey'd whip de bad ones. Some of 'em would git +cow horns an' put on dey heads. One time dey chased a Nigger plumb under +de house jus' a-playin' wid 'im. Dey was a-bellowin' jus' lak bulls.</p> + +<p>"I can't read an' write. I aint got much use for a Nigger wid a little +education. I went to school twict. De firs' teacher I had, dey come an' +carried to de pen for signin' his old Marster's name. De nex' teacher, +dey put in jail for stealin'. So I jus' 'cided twas jus' better for me +not to know how to read'n write, less'n I might git in some kinda +trouble, too.</p> + +<p>"Dora an' me is got three out o' eight chillun livin'. Dora an' me don' +live together no more. She likes to stay in town an' I aint got no +patience wid city slickers an' dey ways. She stays wid us gal, Nanny. I +stays out here. I goes in to see her 'bout once a mont'.</p> + +<p>"I don't git lonesome. Lawdee, no'm! I's got my two dogs. Den de white +folks is always a-comin' out here. Dey is good to me. Dey is one right +pert Nigger woman what lives down de road a-piece. Her name is Katie, +an' I goes down dere when I gits tired o' eatin' my own cookin'. She +sets a plumb good table, too."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="HenryNettie"></a> +<h3>NETTIE HENRY<br> +Meridian, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Nettie Henry, ex-slave, 19th Street, Meridian, Lauderdale County, is 82 +years old. She is five feet tall and weighs one hundred pounds.</p> + +<p>"De Chil's place was at Livingston, Alabama, on Alamucha Creek. Dat's +where I was born, but I jus' did git borned good when Miss Lizzie—she +was Marse Chil's girl—married Marse John C. Higgins an' moved to +Mer-ree-dian. Me an' my mammy an' my two sisters, Liza an' Tempe, was +give to Miss Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"I aint no country Nigger; I was raised in town. My mammy cooked an' +washed an' ironed an' done ever'thing for Miss Lizzie. She live right +where Miss Annie—she was Miss Lizzie's daughter—live now. But den de +house face Eighth Street 'stead o' Seventh Street, lak it do now. Day +warnt any other houses in dat block. 'Fore de Surrender, dey turnt de +house to face Seventh Street 'cause de town was growin' an' a heap o' +folks was buildin' houses. I tell you somp'in' 'bout Seventh Street in a +minute. Couldn' nobody dat lived in Mer-ree-dian right after de +Surrender ever forgit Seventh Street an' where it head to.</p> + +<p>"My pappy didn' go wid us to Mer-ree-dian. He b'longed to one set o' +white people, you see, an' my mammy b'longed to another. He'd come to +see us till de War started, den his folks jus' kinda went to Texas. I +don' know why zackly 'cep' maybe it warnt so healthy for 'em 'roun' +Livingston. Dey didn' go to de War or nothin'. I 'spec' nice white folks +talked 'bout 'em an' wouldn' have nothin' to do wid 'em. So dey took an' +went to Texas an' took my pappy wid 'em. But after de War he come back +to us, walked mos' all de way frum Texas. He rented some lan' frum Mr. +Ragsdale. My pappy built us a shack on dat lan'. It's tore down now, but +it was built good. Us all he'ped. I pulled a cross-cut saw an' toted de +boards up on de roof on a ladder. De chimley was built out o' mud an' +rocks. Den us moved in an' started growin' us somp'in t'eat. Us didn' +have no horse an' plow; Yankees done carried off all de horses an' mules +an' burnt up ever'dthing lak plows. Us dug up de groun' wide a grubbin' +hoe an' raised pun-kins an' plenty o' chickens an' ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"Us lived nice. My people was smart. My white people was good white +people. Dey warnt brutish; never whupped us or nothin' lak dat. I don' +know nothin' 'bout no meanness.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Higgins he died pretty soon an' Miss Lizzie went to teachin' +school. Her chillun—Miss Annie an' dem—would try to teach us. Den us +carried Blue Back Spellers to Sund'y school an' a old Baptist cullud +preacher would teach us out o' it. He say, 'de same words is in dis book +what's in de Bible. You chillun learn 'em de way dey is fixed for you to +learn 'em in dis here Blue Back Speller, den de firs' thing you know you +can read de Bible.' Use went to de white folk's church endurin' o' de +War an' right after. Any o' de white folks can tell you 'bout Mr. +Preacher Hamlin. He was a preacher an' a school teacher mixed. He had de +firs' boardin' school for young white ladies. It's standin' right dare +on Eighth [HW: No 7] Street right now. I 'members de firs' one to +gragurate[FN: graduate] frum it. Well, Mr. Hamlin 'nitiated my pappy +right dare in de white folks's church, de Firs' Baptis' Church; it burnt +up long time ago. My pappy was Isam Allbrook. He was de firs' cullud +deacon ordained in Mer-ree-dian.</p> + +<p>"I was ten years old at de Surrender, but I took notice. Dem was scarey +times an' when you is scared you takes trigger-notice. It was nex' to de +las' year o' de War 'fore Sherman got to Mer-ree-dian—not Sherman +hisse'f but his sojers. Dey burnt up dat big house on Eighth Street hill +an' built camps for de sojers in de flower garden. De cap'ns went an' +live at Marse Greer's house. Marse Greer had done sunk all de silver in +de duck pond an' hid out de horses an' cows in de big cane-brake what +used to be on dis side o' Sowashee Creek. But, Lor!, it didn' do no +good. Sherman done caught on by dat time 'bout how to fin' things. Dey +got ever'thing an' burned Marse Greer's barn. Day lef' de house an' +didn' bother de fam'ly 'cause dey called deyse'fs company. De good Lord +knows Marse Greer didn' 'vite 'em! But de Cap'ns bein' dere kep' de +rip-rap[FN: riff-raff] sojers frum tearin' up ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"When word come dat dey was comin', it soun' lak a moanin' win' in de +quarter. Ever'body was a-sayin', 'De Yankees is comin'! De Yankees is +comin'!' Us chullun was scared, but it was lak Sund'y, too,—nobody +doin' nothin'. Us march' 'roun' de room an' sorter sing-lak, 'De Yankees +is comin'! De Yankees is comin'!' Dey wouldn' let us out in de big road. +Well, dey come. Dey burn up seventy houses an' all de stores. Dey tore +up de railroad tracks an' toted off ever'thing dey couldn' eat. I don' +un'erstan' nothin' 'bout how come dey act lak dat. Us aint done nothin' +to 'em.</p> + +<p>"Well things kep' gittin' worse an' worse. After de Surrender Niggers +got mighty biggity. Mos' of 'em was glad jus' to feel free. Dey didn' +have no better sense. Dey forgot wouldn' be nobody to take care of 'em. +Things warnt healthy an' my mammy an' me kep' close to de white folks. +'Course, Tempe she was grown an' could do what she please. She sho' done +somp'in' when she married Cal. Dat was de meanes' Nigger! He nail up a +board over de gate pos' what say, 'No visitors allowed'. Sho' 'nough +didn' no visitors want to go to his house!</p> + +<p>"I don' know how come things got so unnatchel after de Surrender. +Niggers got to bein all kin' o' things what de Lawd didn' inten' 'em +for, lak bein' policemen an' all lak dat. It was scan'lous! 'Course, it +was de Yankees what done it. Dey promise to give ever'body forty acres +o' lan' an' a mule. A lot of 'em didn' have no better sense dan to +believe 'em. Dey'd go 'head an' do what de Yankees 'ud tell 'em. Well, +dey didn' give' em nothin', not even a rooster. Didn' give 'em +<u>nothin'</u> but trouble.</p> + +<p>"I don' know how come Mr. Theodore Sturges' brother was a Yankee. But +after de Surrender he come to Mer-ree-dian an' got to be Mayor. Didn' +none o' de white folks lak dat. Mr. Theodore didn' lak it hisse'f, but +nothin' he could do 'bout it. Things got so bad de Kloo-Kluxes[FN: Klu +Klux] started ridin' at night an' sposin'[FN: disposing] o' bad Niggers. +Den one Satu'd'y night Mr. Theodore's big sto' got set fiah to an' de +Mayor he tried to blame it on de Kloo-Kluxes. 'Course ever'body knowed +de Yankees done it. You see de Yankees was a-tryin' to git de Gov'nor to +run de Kloo-Kluxes out. Dat was one awful fiah. Near 'bout de whole town +burnt up down town an' ever' nice white man was down dare a-fightin' de +fiah.</p> + +<p>"Plenty o' Niggers was out, too, doin' devlishment. Three of 'em got +'rested an' dey had de trial Monday. In de meantime, all de +Yankee-lovin' Niggers had a big meetin' an' de loudes' mouf dere was dat +big buck Nigger Bill. He all time call hisse'f Dennis when he don' call +hisse'f Clopton. Here dey goes, all het up frum makin' speeches an' +a-drinkin', an' packs de courtroom full. When Mr. Patton got up on de +stan' an' say, he sho' done hear Bill Dennis say somp'in', Bill he +holler out, 'Dat's a lie!' Only he say a bad word dat I wouldn' say. Den +Mr. Patton raise up his walkin' stick an' start toward Bill. 'Bout den +Bill jerk out his pistol an' shoot at Mr. Patton. He miss Mr. Patton an' +hit Judge Bramlette. Yes'm, kilt him corpse-dead right dere on his high +pulpit chair!</p> + +<p>"'Bout dat time ever'thing bus' loose. Near 'bout all de white gent'mun +in de court room take a shot at Bill. He falls, but he aint dead yet. +Dey put him in de sheriff's office an' lef two white men wid him. But +things was a-happenin' so fas' by dat time dey couldn' stan' it. Dey +th'owed Bill out of dat two-story window an' run down to git in de +fight. De white folks was plumb wo' out by dat time wid all de +devilishment o' de Yankees an' de fool Niggers. Even a mean Nigger got +sense 'nough to know when he done gone too far. Dey all git away as fas' +as dey could an' scatter over town, den after dark dey come a-creepin' +back to de quarters. Dat was sho' de wronges' thing to do. Dat night, +all de sho' 'nough white men came a-marchin' out Seventh Street on dey +way to de quarters.</p> + +<p>"I had did up Miss Lizzie's parlor curtains dat very day an' de boy was +puttin' up de mouldin' frame 'roun' 'em when us hear dat trompin' soun'. +It didn' soun' lak no ever'day marchin'. It soun' lak Judgement Day. De +boy fell off de ladder an' run an' hid b'hind de flour barrel in de +pantry. Miss Lizzie was peepin' out 'twixt dem white lace curtains an' I +was right b'hin' 'er. I 'spec' Seventh Street was lined wid wimmin-folks +doin' jus' what us doin', 'cause dey husban's, sons, an' sweethearts was +out dere in dat march-line.</p> + +<p>"Well, dat night ended all de troubles. De line done stop at Mr. +Theodore Sturges' house' fore it git out far as us. 'Course, ever'body +know Mr. Theodore an' Miss Allie was sho' 'nough folks, but dey was +bound to have dat Yankee brother o' his'n.</p> + +<p>"De yard was plumb full o' white men ready to burn de house right down +on Miss Allie's head lessen dey'd give up dat Yankee Mayor. Mr. Theodore +come to de door an' say, 'Gent'mun, he aint here.' Aint nobody believe +dat. Dey was a-fixin' to bus' on in anyhow, when Miss Allie come out. +She come right down dem steps 'mongst all dem mad folks an' say, calm +an' lady-lak, 'Gent'mun, my brother-in-law is here, cert'ny. Where would +he go for safety 'cepn to his brother's house? But I give you my word +dat he gwine stay right here 'till you put him on de firs' train headin' +nawth. Den no mo' blood will be spilled.' An' dat's what dey done.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm it was all mighty bad, but plenty good things done happen in +Mer-ree-dian, too. I'se seen dis town grow frum nothin'. When us come +here 'fore de War, dey was hitchin' dey horses to little oak bushes +right in de middle o' town where de bigges' stores is now. I was a grown +girl by den an' could make horsemint tea for chills an' mullen leaves +for fever good as anybody; an' horehound tea for colds, bitter as gall. +I jus' now caught up how to cook an' sew.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was nineteen years old. I had nine chillun an' five of +'em's still livin'. Dey looks after me right nice, too. My son in +Chicago gimme dis house an' I lives here by myse'f. I keeps it nice an' +clean jus' lak I learnt how to do frum de white folks where I used to +work. I aint never work for no common folks. I tries to live lak a +Christian an' do jus' lak Old Mistis say. Den when I die I can go to +Heaven."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="HodgesFannie"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +Smith Hodges, Ex-Slave, Pike County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. W.F. Holmes<br> +<br> +[FANNY SMITH HODGES<br> +Berglundtown, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Fanny Smith Hodges lives in Berglundtown, in the northern part of town, +in the only Negro settlement within the corporate limits of McComb.</p> + +<p>"My name's Fanny Hodges. I was Fanny Smith befo' I was mar'ied. My mammy +was Jane Weathersby, an' she b'long ter old man Weathersby in Amite +County. He was de meanes' man what ever lived. My pappy was sol' befo' I +was born. I doan know nothin' 'bout him. I had one sister—her name was +Clara—and one brudder—his name was Jack. Dey said my pappy's name was +George. I doan know.</p> + +<p>"Mammy said when I was jes big 'nough to nuss an' wash leetle chulluns, +I was sol' to Marse Hiram Cassedy an' dat man give me ter his darter, +Miss Mary, to be her maid. De Cassedys sho' was good people. I was big +'nough to draw water, an' put it in a tub an' wash Miss Mary, Miss +Annie, an' Miss July. I had to keep 'em clean. I had to comb dey hair +an' dey would holler an' say I pulled. I was tol' not to let anything +hurt dem chulluns.</p> + +<p>"I slep' in de Quarters wid de other niggers. Befo' sunup I had to git +to de Big House ter dress dem chulluns. I doan' member whut kind of bed +I had, but reckin' it was good. I et in de kitchen. Dey fed fine. I et +whut de white folks lef', an' sometimes dey had 'possum an' taters. Dey +was good.</p> + +<p>"Marse Cassedy was a big Judge. He went to all de cou'ts, an' rode in a +fine carri'ge with two big horses hitched ter it, an' a driver. He wore +fine clo'es an' ever'body said he was a mighty big man. He had lots an' +lots of money. I doan know how many acres in his plantation, but he had +more'n 50 slaves.</p> + +<p>"When Marse Cassedy was gone, his oberseer would be hard on de slaves, +but Marse Cassedy would tell him not to be too hard. He never 'lowed his +driver to draw de blood when dey whupped. He fed his slaves. Dey all had +gardens and he tuk care of us. He had money in every one of us. De +oberseers was white men workin' fer wages.</p> + +<p>"I was never whupped afte' I went to Marse Cassedy. Slaves was whupped +when dey wouldn't work right. Sometimes dey was lazy. De oberseer blowed +a horn every mornin' and de slaves knowed to git up, an' when dat horn +blowed agin, dey knowed dey must go to de fiel'. Dey blowed de horn at +dinner an' night. Afte' supper, we set 'bout an' sing an go places. +Sometimes de men would steal off an' go ter other plantations, an' when +kotched dey got a whuppin'. If de pataroller got em, dey sho' kotched +it. Dey was whupped an' brung back.</p> + +<p>"De white folks had big dances in de Big House and de niggers played de +fiddle. Dey was fine times. Dey had good things ter eat, an' I allus got +some of whut was lef'. Christmas time de slaves had dances. I could sho' +shuffle my feet. Shucks, folks doan dance like dat any more.</p> + +<p>"When slaves was sick, dey went to de woods and got roots an' herbs ter +doctor 'em wid. If dey had runnin' off of de bowels, dey got red oak +barks an' boiled it an' made 'em drink it. It's de best thing right now +to cure runnin' off of de bowels. If young gals had pains in dey +stomachs dey made tea out'n gum bark and dat would bring 'em 'round. +When babies was born, dey had good midwives to wait on 'em. Dat was good +money.</p> + +<p>"When Miss July got mar'ied dey had two cooks in de kitchen makin' pound +cake fer more'n a week, an' pies, an' chicken pie, an' dey killed a hog. +Dey had ever'body in de country savin' butter an' eggs fer a long time. +I didn' see de weddin' but de yard was full and we had ever'thing to +eat.</p> + +<p>"My folks was rich. Marse Cassedy went to de War an' he was a big man +dere. He was gone a long time. Dey kep' tellin' us de Yankees was comin' +and Miss Fanny had her silver put in a bag and hid. Dey had de money put +in a wash pot and buried, an' dey ain't found dat money yet. Oh, dey had +<u>more</u> money! Didn' I tell you dey was rich? No mam, dey wasn't po' +when war was over. Dey had ever'thing. When de Yankees come, dey carried +off all de meat in de smokehouse, an' de blanket an' quilts, an' every +thing dey wanted, dey he'ped deyse'ves. None of de slaves went wid' em.</p> + +<p>"When Marse Cassedy come home he had de oberseer blow de horn 'bout ten +o'clock and tol' 'em all dey was freed. He said he'd work 'em fer wages, +an' nearly everyone of 'em stayed fer wages. I stayed wid Miss Mary +'bout ten years. Den I mar'ied. No, Jake an' me rid horse back an' went +to Magnolia an' got mar'ied. I doan know who mar'ied us—somebody in de +cou't house.</p> + +<p>"Me an' Jake went to Summit ter live'. We had to work mighty hard. +Sometimes I plowed in de fiel' all day; sometimes I washed an' den I +cooked, an' afte' 'while, we moved down to de new town. I come here when +dis town fust started. I cooked fer Mrs. Badenhauser, while he was mayor +of de town. Dey worked me hard. Me'n Jake's had some hard ups an' downs. +I had fo' chullun, none of dem livin' dat I know of. I might have some +grandchulluns but if I do, dey live up North.</p> + +<p>"I'm old an' can hardly git about. I'se got a cancer. De doctor done cut +my lef' brest clear offen me, but dat hurts me somtimes yit.</p> + +<p>"I niver jined any church 'til 'bout 20 year ago, right here in +Berglundtown. My church is Flowery Mount Baptist Church, an' my Brudder +Washin'ton is my pastor, an' he is de best preacher what ever lived. No, +Marse Cassedy didn't have no church fer de slaves. Dey went to de white +folks' church.</p> + +<p>"How do I live? Well I gits a pension of fo' dollars a month, an' I try +to wash a leetle fer de colored folks, an' den I beg. I can't stay here +long but God won't low me to starve. Bless God, he's comin' fer me some +day."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="HollidayWayne"></a> +<h3>Wayne Holliday, Ex-slave Monroe County<br> +Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +<br> +[WAYNE HOLLIDAY<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born an' raised in Aberdeen an' I'se been a railroad nigger fo' +mos' of my days. I'se retired now 'cause dey say I too old to work any +longer, but shucks, I ain't half dead yet. I was born in 1853 right here +close to whar I live now. My folks b'longed to de Hollidays—you know de +grand folks of Miss Maria Evans? An' we stayed right dere in de lot whar +de white folks lived.</p> + +<p>"My pa an' my ma was named Frank an' Sarah Holliday an' de Cunel brung +dem wid him frum North Car'lina. Dey was lot niggers an' never worked in +de fiel' or lived in de Quarters. My pa was one of de best carpenters in +de country. I was too young to work much but sometime I he'ped him +'roun' de house but mos' of de time, I jes played wid my brudders an' +sisters an' de white chullun what lived aroun'. We played marbles, +ridin' de stick hoss, an' play house jes lak de chullun do now days, but +I think we had mo' fun. Dey was fo'teen of us in our family an' we allus +had somebody to play wid. An' den li'l Marse Ben, he wa'nt much older +dan us.</p> + +<p>"Our marster's name was Cunel John Holiday. He got dat title in a war +before de slav'ry war. He was too old to fight in dat one, or I spect +he'd got another title, lak Gen'ral or somethin'. He an' Miss Julia—dat +was his wife—was mighty good to us an' so was Marse Tom and Marse Ben, +an' Miss Maria an' all. When de Cunel fust come to Mississippi he bought +a plantation in de prairies an' lived dere for a while. But later he +'cided to build him a house in town so he got my pa to he'p him build it +an' it was one of de purtiest houses in Aberdeen. It look jes lak it +allus did to me now. Co'se dey is worked on it several times since den, +but dey ain't changed it at all.</p> + +<p>"My mammy did de cookin' for de white folks dere. Dey all thought a lot +of her. I never knowed much what slav'ry was 'bout, to tell de truf. De +folks never treated us wrong an' chullun in dem days didn' get to run +aroun' lak dey do today an' we didn' get to hear no gossip 'bout de +other niggers. Since we didn' live in no quarters we didn' hear nothin. +Our folks never said nothin' 'cause dey was very well satisfied lak dey +was. We never hear of no whuppin's, or runaways either, 'til afte' de +War an' when we got older.</p> + +<p>"I 'member de War tho'. Marse Tom, he went fust, wid de Van Dorns. He +was made a capt'in or somethin' 'cause he was so brave. He fought long +wid de fust an' was one of de fust to get hit. Dey brung his body all de +way from Richmond, or Virginny, I fergit which, and lawzy, if de Cunel +an' de Miss didn' take on somethin' awful. Dey sho' loved dat boy an' so +did all of de niggers. Afte' dey buried him dey took his sword an' hung +it on de wall of de parlor. I reckin it still dar.</p> + +<p>"Marse Ben went afte' dat. He was jes old 'nough to go but he went an' +fought jes de same. He come back when de war was over an' dey was sho' +some rejoicin'.</p> + +<p>"Time wa'nt much diffrunt den dan it was 'fo de War. We stayed on wid +our folks for a long time. Den my pa started gettin' a li'l work here +an' dar an' purty soon he got all his chullun started out purty well. We +all went to de colored school what dey had down whar de railroad +crossin' is now, an' dat was whar I l'arned to read an' write. I didn' +marry for a good while an' den I went to work on de I.C. Railroad. I was +fust a coal heaver an' den a coach porter. I was faithful to my job an' +made good money an' soon built me a house of my own whar I raised my +family. I sent all my chullun to school an' dey is doin' well. My wife +worked right 'long wid me. She died 'bout two years ago.</p> + +<p>"I'se thankful I ain't got no sad mem'ries 'bout slav'ry times an' dat I +an' my folks is done as well as dey have. T'is de work of de Lawd."</p> + +<p>Wayne Holliday, who lived in slavery times, and whose father was a +slave, is 84 years old, a dried-up looking Negro of light tan color, +approximately 5 feet three inches high and weighing about 130 pounds, he +is most active and appears much younger than he really is. He is +slightly bent; his kinky hair is intermingled white and gray; and his +broad mouth boasts only one visible tooth, a particularly large one in +the extreme center of his lower gum.</p> + +<p>Wayne has the manner of a Negro of the old South and depicts, in his +small way, the gallantry of an age gone by.</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="JohnsonPrince"></a> +<h3>Prince Johnson, Ex-slave, Coahoma County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Carrie Campbell<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +PRINCE JOHNSON<br> +Clarksdale, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes mam, I sho' can tell you all 'bout it 'cause I was dere when it all +happened. My gran'pa, Peter, gran'ma, Millie, my pa, John, an' my ma, +Frances, all come from Alabama to Yazoo County to live in de Love +fam'ly. Dey names was Dennis when day come, but, after de custom o' dem +days, dey took de name of Love from dey new owner. Me an' all o' my +brothers an' sisters was born right dere. Dey was eleven head o' us. I +was de oldes'. Den come Harry, John, William, Henry, Phillis, Polly, +Nellie, Virginny, Millie, an' de baby, Ella.</p> + +<p>"Us all lived in de quarters an' de beds was home made. Dey had wooden +legs wid canvas stretched 'crost 'em. I can't 'member so much 'bout de +quarters 'cause 'bout dat time de young miss married Colonel Johnson an' +moved to dis place in Carroll County. She carried wid her over one +hund'ed head o' darkies.</p> + +<p>"Den us names was changed from Love to Johnson. My new marster was sure +a fine gent'man. He lived in a big two-story white house dat had big +white posts in front. De flowers all' roun' it jus' set it off.</p> + +<p>"Marster took me for de house boy. Den I sho' carried my head high. He'd +say to me, 'Prince does you know who you is named for?' An' I'd say to +him, 'Yes sir. Prince Albert.' An' den he'd say to me, 'Well, always +carry yo'se'f lak he did.' To dis good day I holds myse'f lak Marster +said.</p> + +<p>"On certain days o' de week one o' de old men on de place took us house +servants to de fiel' to learn us to work. Us was brought up to know how +to do anything dat come to han'. Marster would let us work at odd times +for outsiders an' us could use de money for anything us pleased. My +gran'ma sol' 'nough corn to buy her two feather beds.</p> + +<p>"Us always had plenty t'eat. De old folks done de cookin' for all de +fiel' han's, 'cept on Sund'y when ever' fam'ly cooked for dey ownse'fs. +Old Mis' 'ud come over ever' Sund'y mornin' wid sugar an' white flour. +Us 'ud mos' ingen'ally have fish, rabbits, 'possums, or coons. Lord, +chil'! Dem 'possums was good eatin'. I can tas' 'em now.</p> + +<p>"Folks dese days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin'. My marster had a +great big garden for ever'body an' I aint never seen such 'taters as +growed in dat garden. Dey was so sweet de sugar 'ud bus' right th'ough +de peelin' when you roasted 'em in de ashes.</p> + +<p>"Old Aunt Emily cooked for all de chillun on de place. Ha'f a hour by de +sun, dey was all called in to supper. Dey had pot likker an' ash cake +an' such things as would make 'em grow.</p> + +<p>"Chillun den didn' know nothin' 'bout all de fancy ailments what chillun +have now. Dey run an' played all day in dey shirt tails in de summer +time. When winter come dey had good warm clo'es[FN: clothes] same as us +older ones.</p> + +<p>"One day Marster's chillun an' de cullud chillun slipped off to de +orchard. Dey was jus' a-eatin' green apples fas' as dey could when 'long +come de master, hisse'f. He lined 'em all up, black an' white alike, an' +cut a keen switch. Twant a one in dat line dat didn' git a few licks. +Den he called de old doctor woman an' made 'er give 'em ever' one a dose +o' medicine. Dey didn' a one of' em git sick.</p> + +<p>"Marster an' Old Mis' had five chillun. Dey is all dead an' gone now, +an' I's still here. One o' his sons was a Supreme Judge 'fore he died.</p> + +<p>"My folks was sho' quality. Marster bought all de little places 'roun' +us so he wouldn' have no po' white trash neighbors. Yes sir! He owned +'bout thirty-five hund'ed acres an' at leas' a hund'ed an' fifty slaves.</p> + +<p>"Ever' mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock us could hear dat horn blow for us to +git up an' go to de fiel'. Us always quit work 'fore de sun went down +an' never worked at night. De overseer was a white man. His name was +Josh Neighbors, but de driver was a cullud man, 'Old Man Henry.' He +wasn't 'lowed to mistreat noboby. If he got too uppity dey'd call his +han', right now. De rule was, if a Nigger wouldn' work he mus' be sol'. +'Nother rule on dat place was dat if a man got dissati'fied, he was to +go to de marster an' ask him to put 'im in his pocket.' Dat meant he +wanted to be sol' an' de money he brought put in de marster's pocket. I +aint never known o' but two askin' to be 'put in de pocket.' Both of 'em +was sol'.</p> + +<p>"Dey had jails in dem days, but dey was built for white folks. No cullud +person was ever put in one of 'em 'til after de war. Us didn' know +nothin' 'bout dem things.</p> + +<p>"Course, Old Mis' knowed 'bout 'em, 'cause she knowed ever'thing. I +recollec' she tol' me one day dat she had learnin' in five diffe'ent +languages.</p> + +<p>"None o' us didn' have no learnin' atall. Dat is us didn' have no book +learnin'. Twant no teachers or anything lak dat, but us sho' was taught +to be Christians. Ever'thing on dat place was a blue stockin' +Presbyterian. When Sund'y come us dressed all clean an' nice an' went to +church. Us went to de white folks' church an' set in de gal'ry.</p> + +<p>"Us had a fine preacher. His name was Gober. He could sho' give out de +words o' wisdom. Us didn' have big baptisins lak was had on a heap o' +places, 'cause Presbyterians don't go down under de water lak de Baptis' +do. If one o' de slaves died he was sho' give a gran' Christian fun'al. +All o' us mourners was on han'. Services was conducted by de white +preacher.</p> + +<p>"Old Mis' wouldn' stan' for no such things as voodoo an' ha'nts. When +she 'spected[FN: inspected] us once a week, you better not have no charm +'roun' yo' neck, neither. She wouldn' even 'low[FN: allow] us wear a bag +o' asfittidy[FN: asafetida]. Mos' folks b'lieved dat would keep off +sickness. She called such as dat superstition. She say us was 'lightened +Christian Presbyterians, an' as such us mus' conduc' ourse'fs.</p> + +<p>"Nobody worked after dinner on Satu'd'y. Us took dat time to scrub up +an' clean de houses so as to be ready for 'spection Sund'y mornin'. Some +Satu'd'y nights us had dances. De same old fiddler played for us dat +played for de white folks. An' he sho' could play. When he got dat old +fiddle out you couldn' keep yo' foots still.</p> + +<p>"Christ'mus was de time o' all times on dat old plantation. Dey don't +have no such as dat now. Ever' chil' brought a stockin' up to de Big +House to be filled. Dey all wanted one o' de mistis' stockin's, 'cause +now she weighed nigh on to three hund'ed pounds. Candy an' presents was +put in piles for ever' one. When dey names was called dey walked up an' +got it. Us didn' work on New Year's Day. Us could go to town or anywhere +us wanted to.</p> + +<p>"De mos' fun was de corn shuckin'. Dey was two captains an' each one +picked de ones he wanted on his side. Den de shuckin' started. You can't +make mention o' nothin good dat us didn' have t'eat after de shuckin'. I +still studies' bout dem days now.</p> + +<p>"Dey was big parties at de white folks' house, me, all dressed up wid +taller[FN: tallow] on my face to make it shine, a-servin' de gues'es[FN: +guests].</p> + +<p>"One time, jus' when ever'thing was a-goin' fine, a sad thing happened. +My young mistis, de one named for her ma, ups an' runs off wid de son o' +de Irish ditch digger an' marries 'im. She wouldn' a-done it if dey'd +a-let 'r marry de man she wanted. Dey didn' think he was good 'nough for +her. So jus' to spite' em, she married de ditch digger's son.</p> + +<p>"Old Mis' wouldn' have nothin' more to do wid 'er, same as if she warnt +her own chil'. But I'd go over to see 'er an' carry milk an' things out +o' de garden.</p> + +<p>"It was pitiful to see my little miss poor. When I couldn' stan' it no +longer I walks right up to Old Mis' an' I says, 'Old Mis', does you know +Miss Farrell aint got no cow.' She jus' act lak she aint hear'd me, an' +put her lips together dat tight. I couldn' do nothin' but walk off an' +leave her. Pretty soon she called, 'Prince!' I says, 'Yes mam.' She +says, 'Seein' you is so concerned 'bout Miss Farrell not havin' no cow, +you better take one to 'er.' I foun' de rope an' carried de bes' cow in +de lot to Miss Farrell.</p> + +<p>"Shortly after dat I lef' wid Old Marster to go to North Carolina. Jus' +'fore de war come on, my marster called me to' im an' tol' me he was +a-goin' to take me to North Carolina to his brother for safe keepin'. +Right den I knowed somethin' was wrong. I was a-wishin' from de bottom +o' my heart dat de Yankees 'ud stay out o' us business an' not git us +all 'sturbed in de min'.</p> + +<p>"Things went on at his brother's place 'bout lak dey done at home. I +stayed dere all four years o' de war. I couldn' leave 'cause de men +folks all went to de war an' I had to stay an' pertec' de women folks.</p> + +<p>"De day peace was declared wagon loads o' people rode all th'ough de +place a-tellin' us 'bout bein' free. De old Colonel was killed in battle +an' his wife had died. De young marster called us in an' said it was all +true, dat us was free as he was, an' us could leave whenever us got +ready. He said his money warnt no good anymore an' he dida' have no +other to pay us wid.</p> + +<p>"I can't recollec' if he got new money an' paid us or not, but I do +'member ever' las' one o' us stayed.</p> + +<p>"I never lef' dat place' til my young marster, Mr. Jim Johnson, de one +dat was de Supreme Judge, come for me. He was a-livin' in South Carolina +den. He took us all home wid 'im. Us got dere in time to vote for +Gov'nor Wade Hamilton. Us put 'im in office, too. De firs' thing I done +was join de Democrat Club an' hoped[FN: helped] 'em run all o' de +scalawags away from de place. My young marster had always tol' me to +live for my country an' had seen 'nought of dat war to know jus' what +was a-goin' on.</p> + +<p>"I'se seen many a patrol in my lifetime, but dey dassent come on us +place. Now de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Ku Kluxes] was diff'ent. I rid[FN: rode] +wid' em many a time. 'Twas de only way in dem days to keep order.</p> + +<p>"When I was 'bout twenty-two year old, I married Clara Breaden. I had +two chilluns by her, Diana an' Davis. My secon' wife's name was Annie +Bet Woods. I had six chillun by her: Mary, Ella, John D., Claud William, +an' Prince, Jr. Three boys an' two gals is still livin'. I lives wid my +daughter, Claud, what is farmin' a place 'bout five miles from +Clarksdale. I has' bout fifteen head o' gran'chillun an' ever' las' one +of 'em's farmers.</p> + +<p>"Things is all peaceful now, but de worl' was sho' stirred up when +Abraham Lincoln was 'lected. I 'member well when dey killed 'im. Us had +a song' bout 'im dat went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +'Jefferson Davis rode de milk white steed, +Lincoln rode de mule. +Jeff Davis was a mighty fine man, +An' Lincoln was a fool.' +</pre> + +<p>"One o' de little gals was a-singin' dat song one day an' she mixed dem +names up. She had it dat Marse Davis was de fool. I'se laughed 'bout dat +many a time. When Mistis finished wid' er she had sho' broke her from +suckin' eggs.</p> + +<p>"I knows all 'bout what slave uprisin's is, but never in my life has I +seen anything lak dat. Never! Never! Where I was brought up de white man +knowed his place an' de Nigger knowed his'n[FN: his]. Both of' em stayed +in dey place. We aint never had no lynchin's, neither.</p> + +<p>"I know all 'bout Booker T. Washington. He come to de state o' +Mississippi once an' hel' a meetin' in Jackson. He made a gran' talk. He +made mention 'bout puttin' money in de bank. Lots o' darkies made +'membrance o' dat an' done it. He tol' us de firs' thing us had to learn +was to work an' dat all de schoolin' in de worl' wouldn' mean nothin' if +us didn' have no mother wit[FN: energy & common sense]. It's a pity us +aint got more folks lak him to guide us now dat us aint got no marster +an' mistis to learn us.</p> + +<p>"I's a Nigger what has been prosperous. I made a-plenty cotton an' I +teached my chillun to be good blue stockin' Presbyterians. All 'roun' de +country I was knowed an' ever'body b'lieved in me.</p> + +<p>"Maybe things is better lak dey is today. Mos' folks says so anyway. But +if Old Marster were a-livin' I'd be better off. I know dat to be so.</p> + +<p>"I can hear 'im say to me new, 'Prince Albert, who is you named for? +Well den hol' yo' head high so folks can see you is quality.'"</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="KennedyHamp"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[HAMP KENNEDY<br> +Mahned, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Uncle Hamp Kennedy, a farmer, 78 years old, weighs about 135 pounds, and +is about 5 feet 9 inches high. His head is bald with a little gray fuzz +over his ears and growing low toward the nape of his neck. He does not +wear spectacles nor smoke a pipe. His face is clean shaven.</p> + +<p>Physically active, he does not use a crutch or cane and his hearing, +eyesight, and mind appear alert. The old Negro cannot read or write, but +he has a remarkable memory. He seems very happy in his little cabin +where he and his wife live alone, and his eyes beam with interest when +he remembers and discusses slavery times.</p> + +<p>"I was jes a little nigger when de War broke out—'bout fo' years ol', +my white folks say. I had a sister an' three brudders. My mammy an' +pappy was Mary Kennedy an' Lon Kennedy. My mammy was Mary Denham befo' +she mar'ied. I was born an' raised at Mahned, Mississippi. Old Miss Bill +Griffin was my missus.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees sho' come to our house—yes sir, dey did. De fust time dey +kotched our hogs an' cut off de hind part an' take hit wid' em. De front +part dey lef' in de fiel'. Dey carries corn in de saddle bags an' +throwed hit out to de chickens. Den when de chickens come up to eat dey +kotched 'em by de head an' wring hit off an' take all de chickens wid +'em.</p> + +<p>"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses +in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey +hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef' +dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an' +orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none.</p> + +<p>"One time I 'member when Aunt Charity an' Winnie McInnis, two niggers on +our plantation, tried to swim some of our hosses cross de riber to save +'em frum de soljers an' dey rode 'cross in a little boat. Well, when de +hosses got in de middle of de water, up comes a' gator[FN: alligator], +grabs one hoss by de ear, an' we ain't neber seed him no mo'.</p> + +<p>"When niggers run 'way frum de plantation dey was whupped, but dey had +to go to da sheriff to be whupped. De sheriff, he would tie de nigger to +a tree an' whup him till de blood run out.</p> + +<p>"'Bout de only recr'ation us niggers had in dem days was candy pullin's. +We all met at one house an' tol' ghost stories, sung plantation songs, +an' danced de clog while de candy was cookin'. Dem was de good old days. +Dey don't do dem things no mo'.</p> + +<p>"When a nigger died, we had a wake an' dat was diffrunt too frum whut +'tis today. Dey neber lef' a dead nigger 'lone in de house, but all de +neighbors was dere an' hoped[FN: helped]. Dey turned de mirrors to de +wall 'cause dey say once a long time ago, a nigger died an' three days +afte'wards his people looked in a mirror an' dere dey see da dead nigger +plain as day in de mirror.</p> + +<p>"At da wake we clapped our han's an' kep' time wid our feet—<u>Walking +Egypt</u>, dey calls hit—an' we chant an' hum all night 'till de nigger +was <u>funeralized</u>.</p> + +<p>"If we heerd a little old shiverin' owl[FN: screech owl] we'd th'ow salt +in de fire an' th'ow a broom 'cross de do' fer folks say dat 'twas a +sign of bad luck, an' a charm had to be worked fas' to keep sumpin' +terrible frum happenin', an' if a <u>big owl</u> hollered, we wasn't +'lowed to say one word.</p> + +<p>"Fire was 'bout de hardes' thing fer us to keep. Dere wa'nt no matches +in dem days, an' we toted fire frum one plantation to 'nother when hit +burned out. We put live coals in pans or buckets an' toted it home.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes we put heavy waddin' in a old gun an' shot hit out into a +brush heap an' then blowed the sparks' til de fire blazed. Ever'body had +flint rocks too, but few niggers could work 'em an' de ones dat could +allus had dat job to do.</p> + +<p>"My gran'mammy come frum South Ca'lina an' libed fust at New Augusta, +Mississippi. She used to pick big Catawba leaves an' roll her dough in +'em an' bake hit in a log heap, pilin' ashes over hit. Some called hit +ash cakes an' hit sho' was good. Nothin' lak hit dese days—no sir.</p> + +<p>"We had plen'y to eat—smoke sausage, beef, home made lard, an'—yes +sir, possum when we wanted hit.</p> + +<p>"We didn' git any pay fer our work but we had plen'y to eat an' clo'es +to wear, our clo'es was coarse but good. Most of 'em was wove on de +looms an' our socks an' stockings was knitted by de wimmin. De white +folks though, dey wear linen an' fine silk clo'es fer de big times. We +made blankets—coverlets, too.</p> + +<p>"We had 'bout 60 slaves on our place, an' if a nigger man on one +plantation fall in love wid a slave girl on 'nother place, dey jus' come +to her plantation an' jump ober de broom an' den dey is mar'ied. De +slabes never had preachers lak dey do at weddin's dese days. If de girl +didn't love de boy an' he jumped ober de broom an' she didn't, den dey +wa'nt mar'ied.</p> + +<p>"Dere was no schools in dem days either, an' I can't read an' write +today. Some of de white folks taught de younger niggers an' den dey tuk +dey lessons an' studied at dey cabin of nights afte' dey had finished +work.</p> + +<p>"We had prayer meetin's in each others houses durin' de week. One +plantation owner built a little church on his place an' de niggers, dey +go in de back do' an' sit in de back, an' white folks dey come in de +front of de church an' sit. De Presbyterin chu'ch was de only one 'round +dere an' dey sprinkled ever'body—jes poured water ober dey heads frum a +glass an' den patted hit hit in (demonstrated).</p> + +<p>"'Twas funny—one time Joe an' Green, two niggers on our place, et dey +supper an' run 'way at night an' afte' dey was kotched, dey tol' us dat +when dey was passin' through de woods dat night a great big old +gran'daddy owl flopped his wings an' Joe said 'we'd better turn back.' I +allus heard hit was bad luck fer to hear a owl floppin' lack dat, but +Green said 'twant nothin', jes a old owl floppin', but he jes naturally +flopped diffrunt dat night, an' Green walked on 'bout 15 steps an' +somebody shot him dead. Joe said he tu'ned back an' run home.</p> + +<p>"All our niggers had to have passes to leave de plantation an' when de +pataroller kotched 'em wid out'n a pass, de nigger was whupped. +Sometimes de plantation owner did hit an' sometimes de sheriff. Dey used +a long leather strop cut at de ends.</p> + +<p>"We used snake root, hohound weed, life everlastin' weed, horse mint, +an' sassafras as medicine.</p> + +<p>"When de War was right on us, grub was scarce an' sometimes little +niggers only had clabber milk an' dey et it in de trough wid de pigs, +an' sometimes dey only had pie crusts an' bread crusts at night when dey +et on de cabin flo'. Dem was hard times afte' de War.</p> + +<p>"'Nother time one nigger run 'way frum our plantation an' hid by day an' +traveled by night so de nigger dogs wouldn't git him an' he hid in a +hollow tree. Dere was three cubs down in dat tree an' hit was so slick +inside an' so high 'til he couldn't clim' out, an' afte' while de ole +bear came back an' throw in half a hog. Den she go 'way an' come ag'in +an' throw in de other half. 'Bout a hour later, she came back an' crawl +in back'ards herse'f. De nigger inside de tree kotched her by de tail +an' pulled hisself out. Hit scared de bear so 'til she run in one +direction an' de nigger in 'nother. But de nigger, he run in de +direction of his marster's place an' said he'd neber run off again as +long as he libed.</p> + +<p>"I can't 'member de old songs but dese niggers today can't sing lak dat +neither 'cause dey ain't libed back dere, an' dey can't feel hit lak us +old folks. Dem was de good old days allright, an' dey was hard days +too."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="LucasJames"></a> +<h3>JAMES LUCAS<br> +Natchez, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>James Lucas, ex-slave of Jefferson Davis, lives at Natchez, Adams +County. Uncle Jim is small, wrinkled, and slightly stooped. His woolly +hair is white, and his eyes very bright. He wears a small grizzled +mustache. He is always clean and neatly dressed.</p> + +<p>"Miss, you can count up for yo'se'f. I was born on October 11, 1833. My +young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope'ty of his uncle, +Marse W.B. Withers. He was a-goin' through de papers an' a-burnin' some +of 'em when he foun' de one 'bout me. Den he says, 'Jim, dissen's 'bout +you. It gives yo' birthday.'</p> + +<p>"I recollec' a heap' bout slav'ry-times, but I's all by myse'f now. All +o' my frien's has lef' me. Even Marse Fleming has passed on. He was a +little boy when I was a grown man.</p> + +<p>"I was born in a cotton fiel' in cotton pickin' time, an' de wimmins +fixed my mammy up so she didn' hardly lose no time at all. My mammy sho' +was healthy. Her name was Silvey an' her mammy come over to dis country +in a big ship. Somebody give her de name o' Betty, but twant her right +name. Folks couldn' un'erstan' a word she say. It was some sort o' +gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an' it soun' <u>dat</u> funny. My +pappy was Bill Lucas.</p> + +<p>"When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on +de week-a-days. Dey was long an' had big collars. When de seams ripped +de hide would show through. When I got big enough to wait 'roun' at de +Big House an' go to town, I wore clean rough clo'es. De pants was white +linsey-woolsey an' de shirts was rough white cotton what was wove at de +plantation. In de winter de sewin' wimmins made us heavy clothes an' +knit wool socks for us. De wimmins wore linsey-woolsey dresses an' long +leggin's lak de sojers wear. Dis was a long narrow wool cloth an' it +wropt 'roun' an' 'roun' dey legs an' fas'n at de top wid a string.</p> + +<p>"I never went to no church, but on Sund'ys a white man would preach an' +pray wid us an' when he'd git through us went on 'bout us own business.</p> + +<p>"At Chris'mus de Marster give de slaves a heap o' fresh meat an' whiskey +for treats. But you better not git drunk. No-sir-ree! Den on Chris'mus +Eve dey was a big dance an' de white folks would come an' see de one +what dance de bes'. Marster an' Mistis laugh fit to kill at de capers us +cut. Den sometimes dey had big weddin's an' de young white ladies +dressed de brides up lak dey was white. Sometimes dey sont to N'awleans +for a big cake. De preacher married' em wid de same testimony[FN: +ceremony] dey use now. Den ever'body'd have a little drink an' some +cake. It sho' was larrupin'[FN: very good][HW:?]. Den ever'body'd git +right. Us could dance near 'bout all night. De old-time fiddlers played +fas' music an' us all clapped han's an' tromped an' sway'd in time to de +music. Us sho' made de rafters ring.</p> + +<p>"Us slaves didn' pay no 'tention to who owned us, leastways de young +ones didn'. I was raised by a marster what owned a heap o' lan's. Lemme +see, dey is called Artonish, Lockdale, an' Lockleaven. Dey is +plantations 'long de river in Wilkinson County, where I was raised. Dey +is all 'long together.</p> + +<p>"I's sho' my firs' marster was Marse Jim Stamps an' his wife was Miss +Lucindy. She was nice an' sof'-goin'. Us was glad when she stayed on de +plantation.</p> + +<p>"Nex' thing I knowed us all b'longed to Marse Withers. He was from de +nawth an' he didn' have no wife. (Marsters wid-out wives was de debbil. +I knows a-plenty what I oughtn' tell to ladies. Twant de marsters whut +was so mean. Twas dem po' white trash overseers an' agents. Dey was +mean; dey was meaner dan bulldogs. Yes'm, wives made a big diffe'nce. +Dey was kin' an' went 'bout mongst de slaves a-lookin' after 'em. Dey +give out food an' clo'es an' shoes. Dey doctered de little babies.) When +things went wrong de wimmins was all de time puttin' me up to tellin' de +Mistis. Marse D.D. Withers was my young marster. He was a little man, +but ever'body stepped when he come 'roun'.</p> + +<p>"Don' rightly know how it come 'bout. Lemme see! De bes' I 'member my +nex' Marster was Pres'dent Jefferson Davis hisse'f. Only he warnt no +pres'dent den. He was jus' a tall quiet gent'man wid a pretty young wife +what he married in Natchez. Her name was Miss Varina Howell, an' he sho' +let her have her way. I spec I's de only one livin' whose eyes ever seed +'em bofe. I talked wid her when dey come in de big steamboat. 'Fore us +got to de big house, I tol' her all 'bout de goins'-on on de +plantations. She was a fine lady. When I was a boy 'bout thirteen years +old dey took me up de country toward Vicksburg to a place call +Briarsfield. It mus'-a been named for her old home in Natchez what was +called 'de Briars.' I didn' b'long to Marse Jeff no great while, but I +aint never fo'git de look of 'im. He was always calm lak an' savin' on +his words. His wife was jus' de other way. She talked more dan a-plenty.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieves a bank sol' us nex' to Marse L.Q. Chambers. I 'members him +well. I was a house-servant an' de overseer dassent hit me a lick. +Marster done lay de law down. Mos' planters lived on dey plantations +jus' a part o' de year. Dey would go off to Saratogy an' places up +nawth. Sometimes Marse L.Q. would come down to de place wid a big wagon +filled wid a thousan' pair o' shoes at one time. He had a nice wife. One +day whilst I was a-waitin' on de table I see old Marse lay his knife +down jus' lak he tired. Den he lean back in his chair, kinda still lak. +Den I say, 'What de matter wid Marse L.Q.?' Den dey all jump an' scream +an', bless de Lawd, if he warnt plumb dead.</p> + +<p>"Slaves didn' know what to 'spec from freedom, but a lot of 'em hoped +dey would be fed an' kep' by de gov'ment. Dey all had diffe'nt ways o' +thinkin' 'bout it. Mos'ly though dey was jus' lak me, dey didn' know +jus' zackly what it meant. It was jus' somp'n dat de white folks an' +slaves all de time talk 'bout. Dat's all. Folks dat ain' never been free +don' rightly know de <u>feel</u> of bein' free. Dey don' know de meanin' +of it. Slaves like us, what was owned by quality-folks, was sati'fied +an' didn' sing none of dem freedom songs. I recollec' one song dat us +could sing. It went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +'Drinkin' o' de wine, drinkin' o' de wine, +Ought-a been in heaven three-thousan' yeahs +A-drinkin' o' dat wine, a-drinkin' o' dat wine.' +</pre> + +<p>Us could shout dat one.</p> + +<p>"I was a grown-up man wid a wife an' two chillun when de War broke out. +You see, I stayed wid de folks til 'long cum de Yanks. Dey took me off +an' put me in de War. Firs', dey shipped me on a gunboat an', nex', dey +made me he'p dig a canal at Vicksburg. I was on de gunboat when it +shelled de town. It was turrible, seein' folks a-tryin' to blow each +other up. Whilst us was bull-doggin' Vicksburg in front, a Yankee army +slipped in behin' de Rebels an' penned 'em up. I fit[FN: fought] at Fort +Pillow an' Harrisburg an' Pleasant Hill an' 'fore I was ha'f through wid +it I was in Ba'timore an' Virginny.</p> + +<p>"I was on han' when Gin'l Lee handed his sword to Gin'l Grant. You see, +Miss, dey had him all hemmed in an' he jus' natchelly had to give up. I +seen him stick his sword up in de groun'.</p> + +<p>"Law! It sho' was turrible times. Dese old eyes o' mine seen more people +crippled an' dead. I'se even seen 'em saw off legs wid hacksaws. I tell +you it aint right, Miss, what I seen. It aint right atall.</p> + +<p>"Den I was put to buryin' Yankee sojers. When nobody was lookin' I +stript de dead of dey money. Sometimes dey had it in a belt a-roun' dey +bodies. Soon I got a big roll o' foldin' money. Den I come a-trampin' +back home. My folks didn' have no money but dat wuthless kin'. It was +all dey knowed 'bout. When I grabbed some if it an' throwed it in de +blazin' fiah, dey thought I was crazy, 'til I tol' 'em, 'dat aint money; +it's no 'count!' Den I give my daddy a greenback an' tol' him what it +was.</p> + +<p>"Aftah de War was over de slaves was worse off dan when dey had +marsters. Some of 'em was put in stockades at Angola, Loosanna[FN: +Louisiana], an' some in de turrible corral at Natchez. Dey warnt used to +de stuff de Yankees fed 'em. Dey fed' em wasp-nes' bread, 'stead o' +corn-pone an' hoe cake, an' all such lak. Dey caught diseases an' died +by de hund'eds, jus' lak flies. Dey had been fooled into thinkin' it +would be good times, but it was de wors' times dey ever seen. Twant no +place for 'em to go; no bed to sleep on; an' no roof over dey heads. Dem +what could git back home set out wid dey min's made up to stay on de +lan'. Mos' of dey mistis' took 'em back so dey wuked de lan' ag'in. I +means dem what lived to git back to dey folks was more'n glad to wuk! +Dey done had a sad lesson. Some of 'em was worse'n slaves after de War.</p> + +<p>"Dem Ku Kluxes was de debbil. De Niggers sho' was scared of 'em, but dey +was more after dem carpet-baggers dan de Niggers. I lived right in +'mongst 'em, but I wouldn' tell. No Ma'm! I knowed 'em, but I dasn' +talk. Sometimes dey would go right in de fiel's an' take folks out an' +kill 'em. Aint none of 'em lef' now. Dey is all dead an' gone, but dey +sho' was rabid den. I never got in no trouble wid 'em, 'cause I tended +my business an' kep' out o' dey way. I'd-a been kilt if I'd-a run 'roun' +an' done any big talkin'.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed Marse Linc'um, but I heard he was a pow'ful good man. I +'members plain as yesterd'y when he got kilt an' how all de flags hung +at ha'f mas'. De Nawth nearly went wil' wid worryin' an' blamed +ever'body else. Some of 'em even tried to blame de killin' on Marse +Davis. I fit wid de Yankees, but I thought a mighty heap o' Marse Davis. +He was quality.</p> + +<p>"I guess slav'ry was wrong, but I 'members us had some mighty good +times. Some marsters was mean an' hard but I was treated good all time. +One thing I does know is dat a heap of slaves was worse off after de +War. Dey suffered 'cause dey was too triflin' to work widout a boss. Now +dey is got to work or die. In dem days you worked an' rested an' knowed +you'd be fed. In de middle of de day us rested an' waited for de horn to +blow to go back to de fiel'. Slaves didn' have nothin' turrible to worry +'bout if dey acted right. Dey was mean slaves de same as dey was mean +marsters.</p> + +<p>"Now-a-days folks don' live right. In slav'ry times when you got sick a +white docter was paid to git you well. Now all you gits is some no-count +paten' medicine. You is 'fraid to go to de horspital, 'cause de docters +might cut on yo' stummick. I think slav'ry was a lot easier dan de War. +Dat was de debbil's own business. Folks what hankers for war don' know +what dey is askin' for. Dey ain' never seen no bloodshed. In war-times a +man was no more dan a varmint.</p> + +<p>"When my white folks tol' us us was free, I waited. When de sojers come +dey turnt us loose lak animals wid nothin'. Dey had no business to set +us free lak dat. Dey gimme 160 acres of lan', but twant no 'count. It +was in Mt. Bayou, Arkansas, an' was low an' swampy. Twant yo' lan' to +keep lessen you lived on it. You had to clear it, dreen it, an' put a +house on it.</p> + +<p>"How I gwine-a dreen an' clear a lot o' lan' wid nothin' to do it wid? +Reckon somebody livin' on my lan' now.</p> + +<p>"One of de rights of bein' free was dat us could move 'roun' and change +bosses. But I never cared nothin' 'bout dat.</p> + +<p>"I hear somebody say us gwine-a vote. What I wanta vote for? I don' know +nothin' 'bout who is runnin'.</p> + +<p>"I draws a Federal pension now. If I lives' til nex' year I'll git $125 +a mont'. It sho' comes in handy. I paid $800 for my house an', if I'd-a +thought, I'd-a got one wid mo' lan'. I don' wan' to plant nothin'. I do +want to put a iron fence a-roun' it an' gild it wid silver paint. Den +when I's gone, dar it will be.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm. I'se raised a big fambly. Dem what aint dead, some of' em looks +as old as I does. I got one gran-chil' I loves jus' lak my own chillun. +I don' rightly 'member dis minute how many chillun I had, but I aint had +but two wives. De firs' one died long 'bout seventeen years ago, an' I +done what de Good Book say. It say, 'when you goes to de graveyard to +bury yo' firs' wife, look over de crowd an' pick out de nex' one.'</p> + +<p>"Dat's jus' what I done. I picked Janie McCoy, 'cause she aint never +been married b'fore. She's a good cook, even if she does smoke a pipe, +an' don' know much' bout nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I sho' don' live by no rules. I jus' takes a little dram when ever I +wants it, an' I smokes a pipe 'ceptin when de Mistis give me a +seegar[FN: cigar]. I can't chew tobacco on 'count my teeth is gone. I +aint been sick in bed but once in seventy years.</p> + +<p>"I is five feet, five inches tall. I used to weigh 150 pounds, but dis +old carcass o' mine done los' fifty pounds of meat.</p> + +<p>"Now-a-days I has a heap of misery in my knee, so I can't ride 'roun' no +mo'. Durin' de War I got a muskit ball in my hip an' now dat my meat's +all gone, it jolts a-roun' an' hurts me worse. I's still right sprightly +though. I can jump dat drainage ditch in front of de house, an' I sho' +can walk. Mos' every day I walks to de little sto' on Union Street. Dar +I rests long enough to pass de time-o-day wid my neighbors. My eyes is +still good, but I wears glasses for show an' for seein' close.</p> + +<p>"De longer I lives de plainer I see dat it ain' right to want mo' dan +you can use. De Lawd put a-plenty here for ever'body, but shucks! Us +don' pay no min' to his teachin'. Sometimes I gits lonesome for de +frien's I used to know, 'cause aint nobody lef' but me. I's sho' been +lef a fur piece[FN: long way] b'hin'. De white folks say, 'Old Jim is de +las' leaf on de tree,' an' I 'spec dey's 'bout right."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="McAllumSam"></a> +<h3>Sam McAllum, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County<br> +FEC<br> +Marjorie Woods Austin<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +SAM McALLUM<br> +Meridian, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>To those familiar with the history of "Bloody Kemper" as recorded, the +following narrative from the lips of an eye-witness will be heresy. But +the subject of this autobiography, carrying his ninety-five years more +trimly than many a man of sixty, is declared sound of mind as well as of +body by the Hector Currie family, prominent in Mississippi, for whom he +has worked in a position of great trust and responsibility for fifty +years or more.</p> + +<p>While this old Negro may be mistaken at some points (the universal +failing of witnesses), his impressions are certainly not more involved +than the welter of local records. Mrs. Currie states that if Sam said he +saw a thing happen thus, it may be depended upon that he is telling +exactly what he really saw.</p> + +<p>Sam McAllum, ex-slave, lives in Meridian, Lauderdale County. Sam is five +feet three inches tall and weighs 140 pounds.</p> +<br> +<p>"De firs' town I ever seen were DeKalb in Kemper County. De Stephenson +Plantation where I were born warnt but 'bout thirteen miles north o' +DeKalb. I were born de secon' o' September in 1842. My mammy b'longed to +de Stephensons an' my pappy b'longed to Marster Lewis Barnes. His +plantation wasn't so very far from Stephenson. De Stephensons an' +Barneses were kin' white people. My pappy were a old man when I were +born—I were de baby chil'. After he died, my mammy marry a McAllum +Nigger.</p> + +<p>"Dey were 'bout thirty slaves at Stephenson. My mammy worked in de +fiel', an' her mammy, Lillie, were de yard-woman. She looked after de +little cullud chillun.</p> + +<p>"I don't recollec' any playthings us had 'cept a ball my young marster +gimme. He were Sam Lewis Stephenson, 'bout my age. De little cullud +chillun' ud play 'Blin' Man', 'Hidin'', an' jus' whatever come to han'.</p> + +<p>"My young marster learned me out o' his speller, but Mistis whupped me. +She say I didn' need to learn nothin' 'cept how to count so's I could +feed de mules widout colicin' 'em. You give' em ten years[FN: ears] o' +corn to de mule. If you give' em more, it 'ud colic' 'em an' dey'd die. +Dey cos' more'n a Nigger would. Dat were de firs' whuppin' I ever +got—when me an' my young marster were a-spellin'.</p> + +<p>"I stayed wid him special, but I waited on all de white folk's chillun +at Stephenson. I carried de foot tub in at night an' washed dey foots, +an' I'd pull de trun'le bed out from under de other bed. All de boys +slep' in de same room.</p> + +<p>"Den I were a yard boy an' waited on de young marster an' mistis. Hadn' +been to de fiel' den—hadn' worked yet.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stephenson were a surveyor an' he fell out wid Mr. McAllum an' had +a lawsuit. He had to pay it in darkies. Mr. McAllum had de privilege o' +takin' me an' my mammy, or another woman an' her two. He took us. So us +come to de McAllum plantation to live. It were in Kemper, too, 'bout +eight miles from Stephenson. Us come dere endurin' of de war. Dat were +when my mammy marry one of de McAllum Niggers. My new pappy went to de +war wid Mr. McAllum an' were wid 'im when he were wounded at Mamassas +Gab Battle. He brung 'im home to die—an' he done it.</p> + +<p>"Den de Yankees come th'ough DeKalb huntin' up cannons an' guns an' +mules. Dey sho' did eat a heap. Us hid all de bes' things lak silver, +an' driv'[FN: drove] de stock to de swamp. Dey didn' burn nothin', but +us hear'd tell o' burnin's in Scooba an' Meridian. I were a-plowin' a +mule an' de Yankees made me take him out. De las' I seen o' dat mule, he +were headed for Scooba wid three Yankees a-straddle of 'im.</p> + +<p>"Times were tight—not a grain o' coffee an' not much else. When us +clo'es[FN: clothes] were plumb wore out, de mistis an' de Nigger wimmins +made us some out o' de cotton us had raised. My granny stayed de +loom-room all de time. De other winmins done de spinnin' an' she done de +weavin'. She were a' good'n'.</p> + +<p>"De M & O (Mobile & Ohio Railroad) were a-burnin' wood, den. Dey couldn' +git coal. Dey used taller[FN: tallow] pots 'stead o' oil. De engineer +had to climb out on de engine hisse'f an' 'tend to dam taller pots. Dey +do diffe'nt now.</p> + +<p>"Dey were such a sca'city of men, dey were a-puttin' 'em in de war at +sixty-five. But de war end 'fore dey call dat list.</p> + +<p>"Mistis didn' have nobody to he'p her endurin' de war. She had to do de +bes' she could.</p> + +<p>"When she hear'd de Niggers talkin' 'bout bein' free, she wore 'em out +wid a cowhide. She warnt a pow'ful-built woman, neither. She had to do +it herse'f, 'cause twant nobody to do it for 'er. Dey warnt nothin' a +Nigger could do but stan' up an' take it.</p> + +<p>"Some folks treated dey slaves mighty bad—put Nigger dogs on 'em. All +my white folks were good to dey slaves, 'cordin' to how good de Niggers +b'haved deyse'fs. Course, you couldn' leave no plantation widout a pass, +or de pateroller'd git you. I aint countin' dat, 'cause dat were +somthin' ever'body knowed 'forehan'.</p> + +<p>"Dey were a heap o' talk 'bout de Yankees a-givin' ever' Nigger forty +acres an' a mule. I don't know how us come to hear 'bout it. It jus' +kinda got aroun'. I picked out my mule. All o' us did.</p> + +<p>"Times were mighty tough. Us thought us knowed trouble endurin' de war. +Um-m-m! Us didn' know nothin' 'bout trouble.</p> + +<p>"Dey were so many slaves at McAllum's, dey had to thin 'em out. Mistis +put us out[FN: hired us out]. She sent me to Mr. Scott close to Scooba. +I were mos' a grown boy by den an' could plow pretty good. Come de +surrender, Mr. Scott say, 'Sambo, I don't have to pay yo' mistis for you +no more. I have to pay you if you stay. Niggers is free. You is free.' I +didn' b'lieve it. I worked dat crop out, but I didn' ask for no pay. Dat +didn' seem right. I didn' un'erstan' 'bout freedom, so I went home to my +old mistis. She say, 'Sambo, you don't b'long to me now.'</p> + +<p>"Dey bound us young Niggers out. Dey sent me an' my brother to a man dat +were goin' to give us some learnin' 'long wid farmin'. His name were +Overstreet. Us worked dat crop out, but us aint never seen no speller, +nor nothin'.</p> + +<p>"Den us went back to Stephenson's, where us were born, to git us age. +Old mistis say, 'Sambo, you aint twenty-one yet.'</p> + +<p>"She cried, 'cause I had to go back to Mr. Overstreet. But I didn'. My +mammy an' me went back to McAllum's an' stayed until a man give us a +patch in turn[FN: return] for us he'pin' him on his farm.</p> + +<p>"I know 'bout de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Klu Kluxes]. I seen 'em. 'Bout de firs' +time I seen 'em were de las'. Aint nobody know zackly[FN: exactly] 'bout +dem Kloo Kluxes. Some say it were a sperrit dat hadn' had no water since +de war. One rider would drink fo' or five gallons at one time—kep' us +a-totin' buckets fas' as us could carry 'em. It were a sperrit, a evil +sperrit.</p> + +<p>"But folks dat aint acted right liable to be found mos' anytime tied up +some'r's: De Niggers were a-havin' a party one Satu'd'y night on +Hampton's plantation. Come some men on horses wid some kin' o' +scare-face on 'em. Dey were all wropped[FN: wrapped] up, disguised. De +horses were kivered[FN: covered] up, too. Dey call for Miler Hampton. He +were one o' de Hampton Niggers. He been up to somethin'. I don't know +what he done, but dey say he done somethin' bad. Dey didn' have no +trouble gittin' him, 'cause us were all scared us'd git kilt, too. Dey +carried 'im off wid 'em an' kilt him dat very night.</p> + +<p>"Us went to DeKalb nex' day in a drove an' ask de white folks to he'p +us. Us buy all de ammunition us could git to take de sperrit, 'cause us +were a-havin' 'nother party de nex' week. Dey didn' come to dat party.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why dey don't have no Kloo Kluxes now. De sperrit still +have de same power.</p> + +<p>"Den I go to work for Mr. Ed McAllum in DeKalb—when I aint workin' for +de Gullies. Mr. Ed were my young marster, you know, an' now he were de +jailor in DeKalb.</p> + +<p>"I knowed de Chisolms, too. Dat's how come I seen all I seen an' know +what aint never been tol'. I couldn' tell you dat. Maybe I's de only one +still livin' dat were grown an' right dere an' seen it happen. I aint +scared now nothin' 'ud happen to me for tellin'—Mr. Currie'd see to +dat—I jus' aint never tol'. Dem dat b'longed to my race were scared to +tell. Maybe it were all for de bes'. Dat were a long time ago. Dey give +out things den de way dey wanted 'em to soun', an' dat's de way dey done +come down:</p> + +<p>"'It started wid Mr. John Gully gittin' shot. Now Mr. Gully were a +leadin' man 'mong de white democratic people in Kemper, but dey aint had +much chance for 'bout seven years (I disremember jus' how long) on +'count o' white folks lak de Chisolms runnin' ever'thing. Ever'body were +sho' it were some' o' de Chisolm crowd, but some folks knowed it were +dat Nigger, Walter Riley, dat shot Mr. Gully. (But aint nobody ever tol' +de sho' 'nough reason why Walter shot Mr. John Gully.)</p> + +<p>"'De Chisolms warnt Yankees, but dey warnt white democratic people. Dey +do say de Chisolms an' folks lak' em used to run 'roun' wid de Yankees. +Maybe dat's how come dey was diffe'nt. Even 'fore de Yankees come +a-tall, when Mr. Chisolm were on us side, he were loud moufed[FN: +mouthed] 'bout it.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. John Gully he'p Mr. Chisolm git to be judge, but he turnt out to +be worse dan dem he had to judge. Mr. Gully an' de others made 'im +resign. I reckon maybe dat's why he quit bein' a Democratic an' started +ructions wid Mr. Gully.</p> + +<p>"'Come de surrender, Mr. Chisolm, he got to be a big leader on de other +side. An' he seen to it dat a lot o' de white democratic men got he'p +from votin' an' a lot o' Niggers step up an' vote lak he tol' 'em (dey +were scared not to). So de Chisolms kep' gittin' all de big places.</p> + +<p>"'A lot o' widders an' folks lak dat what couldn' he'p deyse'fs los' dey +homes an' ever'thing dey had. De papers de gran' jury make out 'bout it +were stored in de sheriff's office. De sheriff give out dat his office +done been broke open an' all dem papers stole.</p> + +<p>"'Den Mr. Chisolm's brother got hisse'f p'inted[FN: appointed] sheriff +an' make Mr. Chisolm deputy. Dat's when he started runnin' things, sho' +'nough. Nex' thing you know, Mr. Chisolm is de sho' 'nough sheriff, +hisse'f.</p> + +<p>"'Den he gather all his kin' o' folks 'roun' 'im an' dey make out a +black lis'. De folkses names dat were on it were de ones de Chisolms +didn' need. It were talked 'roun' dat de firs' name on dat lis' were Mr. +John Gully's name. A heap o' Kloo Kluxes' names were on it, too. Mr. +Chisolm send de Kloo Kluxes' names to de Gov'nor an' spec' him to do +somethin' 'bout runnin' 'em out. But, course, he couldn' do nothin' +'bout dat, 'cause it were a sperrit. But ever' now an' den somebody +what's name were on dat lis' 'ud git shot in de back.</p> + +<p>"'Afore de 'lection come in November (it mus' a-been in '75) de Niggers +had been a-votin' an' doin' ever'thing de Chisolms say. Dey were still +a-harpin' back to dat forty acres an' a mule dey were promised what dey +aint never got. It were turnin' out to be jus' de same wid ever'thing +else Mr. Chisolm had been a-promisin' to give 'em. Dey aint never got +none of it. De white democratic folks won dat 'lection.</p> + +<p>"'Soon Mr. Chisolm run for somthin' or 'nother an' got beat bad. Den he +were mad sho' 'nough. He went to Jackson to see de Gov'nor 'bout it. +Soon a heap o' white democratic men in Kemper got arrested for somethin' +or nother.</p> + +<p>"'Den Mr. John Gully got shot an' ever'body were sho' de Chisolms done +it. Ever'body were dat mad. Chisolm an' dem had to go to court. But dey +were slippery as eels an' Walter Riley's name come out. (He were a +Nigger.) Dey give out at de trial dat Walter were hired to shoot 'im by +de Chisolm folks. Dat were not de reason, but dey was blood 'fore folks' +eyes by dat time.</p> + +<p>"'It got worse dat Satu'd'y when Mr. Gully were buried. Folks all over +Kemper done hear'd 'bout it by now, an' by nine o'clock Sund'y mornin', +people were a-comin' in over ever' road dat led to DeKalb. Dey all had +loaded guns. It were on a Sund'y when all de killin' happened—I mean, +de windin'-up killin'. I were dere 'fore a gun were fired. I were dere +when de firs' man were wounded.</p> + +<p>"'De cullud people had gathered in DeKalb at de Methodis' Church. Dey +hadn' a gun fired yet. Mr. Henry Gully goes to de cullud people's +church. He walked in at de front door an' took his hat off his head. Dey +were a-packed in de house for preachin'. He walked down de aisle 'til he +got in front o' de preacher an' he turn sideways an' speak: "I want to +ask you to dismiss yo' congregation. Dey is goin' to be some trouble +take place right here in DeKalb an' I don't want any cullud person to +git hurt." De preacher rise to his feet, ever' Nigger in de house were +up, an' he dismiss 'em. (Mr. Henry Gully were Mr. John Gully's brother +an' a leadin' man o' de right.)</p> + +<p>"'De town were a-millin' wid folks from ever'where. Chisolm an' dem done +got in de jail for safety an' Miss Cornelia Chisolm went back'ards an' +for'ards to de jail. Dey thought she were a-carryin' ammunition in her +clo'es[FN: clothes] to her father. Mr. McClendon—he were one of' +em—were wid her twict. He were on de right-hand side. Some b'lieved he +were de one dat killed Mr. John Gully. Dey tol' 'im dey'd burn his house +down if he stay in it, but if he'd go on to jail, dey'd give 'im a fair +trial.</p> + +<p>"'Well, Mr. McClendon were shot down 'side Miss Cornelia. I seen him +when he fell on his face. De man dat fired de gun turn him over an' say, +"Well, us got' im." Miss Cornelia run on to de jail where de bounce[FN: +balance] o' de fam'ly were.</p> + +<p>"'Dem outside say, "Boys, it'll never do! Dey aint all in dere yet. +Let's sen' to Scooba an' git Charlie Rosenbaum an' John Gilmore to come +help dey frien's. Dey b'longs to dat Chisolm crowd an' we want dem, +too."</p> + +<p>"'So dey come. Somebody say, "Let's commence right here." I never seen a +battle b'fore, but I sho' seen one den. It were lak dis: Mr. Cal Hull +was de only democratic white frien' Mr. Rosenbaum had. He stood' twixt +his white democratic frien's an' Mr. Rosenbaum. He put his arms over Mr. +Rosenbaum an' say, "Boys, he's a frien' o' mine. If you kill him, you +kill me." Mr. Rosenbaum crawled over to de courthouse wall, an' squatted +down, an' stayed dere. Mr. Hull stood over 'im, pertectin' 'im. But Mr. +John Gilmore make for de jail an', when dey open de door for 'im, de +shootin' start. Right den were when Mr. Gilmore got his. Miss Cornelia +were struck in de wris'. It mortified an' after 'while she died from +it.'</p> + +<p>"I know I aint tol' de sho' 'nough reason Mr. John Gully got killed. +Maybe de time done come for de truf to be tol'. Hope won't nobody think +hard o' me for tellin':</p> + +<p>"Mr. John Gully had a bar-room an' a clerk. A white man by de name o' +Bob Dabbs walked[FN: clerked] b'hin' dat counter. Dis Nigger, Walter +Riley, I was a-tellin' you 'bout awhile ago, were a-courtin' a +yaller[FN: yellow] woman. (Dey warnt so many of 'em in dem days.) Mr. +Dabbs say, "Walter, if I ever kotch[FN: catch] you walkin wid (he called +dat yaller woman's name) I'll give you de worst beatin' ever was." +Walter were kotch wid 'er ag'in. Dat Frid'y night he come a-struttin' +into de bar-room. Mr. Dabbs say, "Come he'p move dese boxes here in de +nex' room." Walter walked in lak a Nigger will when you ask 'im to do +somethin', an' Mr. Dabbs turnt de key. "Git 'crost dat goods box," he +say. "I'll give you what I promised you." Mr. Dabbs got 'im a piece o' +plank an' burnt Walter up.</p> + +<p>"All dis here were a-goin' on 'bout de time Niggers were a-votin' an' +doin' things 'roun' white folks. Dey thought dey were pertected by de +Chisolm crowd.</p> + +<p>"De nex' Frid'y night Walter walked right into dat bar-room ag'in. Mr. +Dabbs say, "What you doin' here, Nigger?" Walter say, "You 'member what +you done to me tonight one week?" An' he say, "Well, what's to it?" Den +Walter say, "Well, I come to settle wid you." Mr. Dabbs say, "Let me see +if I can't hurry you up some," an' he retch[FN: reached] his han' back +his han' to his hip. But 'fore he could draw[FN: draw his gun] out, +Walter done run back to de door. Dey were a chinaberry tree close to de +door an' Walter got b'hin' it an' fired a pistol. Mr. Dabbs were hit wid +his arm a-layin' 'crost de counter wid his pistol in his han'.</p> + +<p>"'Me an' Mr. Ed ('cause he were de jailor), we put him on a mattress in +de room back o' de bar. An' he died dat night. De word jus' kinda got' +roun' dat some of de Chisolm crowd done killed Mr. Gully's clerk.</p> + +<p>"'Walter run off to Memphis. Mr. Gully were pursuin' after 'im to ketch +'im. Walter sho' got tired of him pursuin' after 'im. Dat were de +evidence Walter give out 'fore dey put de rope on his neck an' start him +on his way to de gallows, but twant nobody dere to put it down jus' lak +it were.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Sinclair were sheriff by dis time, an' my young marster an' me +went wid 'im to git Walter to take 'im to de gallows. Mr. Sinclair say, +"Ed, you goin' to de jail-house now? Here's a ha'f pint o' whiskey. Give +it to Walter, make 'im happy, den if he talk too much, nobody will +b'lieve it." Mr. Ed say, "Come on, Sambo, go wid me." He retched down +an' got a han'ful o' goobers an' put 'em in his pocket. We were eatin' +'em on de way down to de jail-house. He say, "Walter, Mr. Sinclair done +sent you a dram." Walter say, "Mr. McAllum, I see you an' Sam eatin' +peanuts comin' along. Jus' you give me a han'ful an' I'll eat dem on de +way to de gallows. I don't want no whiskey."</p> + +<p>"'Den us got on de wagon. (I can see Walter now, standin' dere wid his +cap on de back o' his head ready to pull down over his eyes after he git +dere.) Dey were a pow'ful crowd 'roun' dat wagon.</p> + +<p>"'Den come a rider from Scooba, pull a paper from his pocket, an' han' +it to Mr. Sinclair. He read it an' say," Let de people go on to de +gallows. De wagon turn 'roun' an' go back to de jail." De Gov'nor had +stopped de hangin' 'til de case were 'vestigated. (De people standin' +dere a-waitin' for Walter to be hung didn' know what were de matter.)</p> + +<p>"'Dey placed Walter back in jail an' his coffin 'long wid' im. De +lawyers would visit 'im to git his testimony. Dey'd show 'im his coffin +all ready an' ask him did he do dis killin' or not. Dey want 'im to say +he were hired to do it. Dey fixed it all up. Twant nobody to tell jus' +how it were.'</p> + +<p>"I were married by dis time to Laura. She were de nurse maid to Mr. J.H. +Currie. She's been dead twenty years, now. When de Curries come to +Meridian to live, dey give me charge o' dey plantation. I were de leader +an' stayed an' worked de plantation for' em. Dey been livin' in Meridian +twelve years. I's married now to dey cook.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hector tol' me if I'd come an' live wid' em here, he'd gimme dis +house here in de back yard an' paint it an' fix it all up lak you see +it. It's mighty pleasant in de shade. Folks used to always set dey +houses in a grove, but now dey cuts down more trees dan dey keeps. Us +don't cut no trees. Us porches is always nice an' shady.</p> + +<p>"I'se got fo' boys livin'. One son were in de big strike in de +automobile plant in Detroit an' couldn' come to see me las' Chris'mus. +He'll come to see me nex' year if I's still here.</p> + +<p>"Maybe folks goin' a-think hard o' me for tellin' what aint never been +tol' b'fore. I been asked to tell what I seen an' I done it.</p> + +<p>"Dat's tellin' what I never thought to tell."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="MosesCharlie"></a> +<h3>Charlie Moses, Ex-slave, Lincoln County<br> +FEC<br> +Esther de Sola<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +CHARLIE MOSES<br> +Brookhaven, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Charlie Moses, 84 year old ex-slave, lives at Brookhaven. He possesses +the eloquence and the abundant vocabulary of all Negro preachers. He is +now confined to his bed because of the many ailments of old age. His +weight appears to be about 140 pounds, height 6 feet 1 inch high.</p> + +<p>"When I gits to thinkin' back on them slavery days I feels like risin' +out o' this here bed an' tellin' ever'body 'bout the harsh treatment us +colored folks was given when we was owned by poor quality folks.</p> + +<p>"My marster was mean an' cruel. I hates him, hates him! The God Almighty +has condemned him to eternal fiah. Of that I is certain. Even the cows +and horses on his plantation was scared out o' their minds when he come +near 'em. Oh Lordy! I can tell you plenty 'bout the things he done to us +poor Niggers. We was treated no better than one o' his houn' dogs. +Sometimes he didn' treat us as good as he did them. I prays to the Lord +not to let me see him when I die. He had the devil in his heart.</p> + +<p>"His name was Jim Rankin an' he lived out on a plantation over in Marion +County. I was born an' raised on his place. I spec I was 'bout twelve +year old at the time o' the war.</p> + +<p>"Old man Rankin worked us like animals. He had a right smart plantation +an' kep' all his Niggers, 'cept one house boy, out in the fiel' +a-workin'. He'd say, 'Niggers is meant to work. That's what I paid my +good money for 'em to do.'</p> + +<p>"He had two daughters an' two sons. Them an' his poor wife had all the +work in the house to do, 'cause he wouldn' waste no Nigger to help 'em +out. His family was as scared o' him as we was. They lived all their +lives under his whip. No Sir! No Sir! There warnt no meaner man in the +world than old man Jim Rankin.</p> + +<p>"My pappy was Allen Rankin an' my mammy was Ca'line. There was twelve o' +us chillun, nine boys an' three girls. My pa was born in Mississippi an' +sol' to Marster Rankin when he was a young man. My mammy was married in +South Carolina an' sol' to Marster Rankin over at Columbia. She had to +leave her family. But she warnt long in gittin' her another man.</p> + +<p>"Oh Lordy! The way us Niggers was treated was awful. Marster would beat, +knock, kick, kill. He done ever'thing he could 'cept eat us. We was +worked to death. We worked all Sunday, all day, all night. He whipped us +'til some jus' lay down to die. It was a poor life. I knows it aint +right to have hate in the heart, but, God Almighty! It's hard to be +forgivin' when I think of old man Rankin.</p> + +<p>"If one o' his Niggers done something to displease him, which was mos' +ever' day, he'd whip him' til he'd mos' die an' then he'd kick him 'roun +in the dust. He'd even take his gun an', before the Nigger had time to +open his mouth, he'd jus' stan' there an' shoot him down.</p> + +<p>"We'd git up at dawn to go to the fiel's. We'd take our pails o' grub +with us an' hang' em up in a row by the fence. We had meal an' pork an' +beef an' greens to eat. That was mos'ly what we had. Many a time when +noontime come an' we'd go to eat our vittals the marster would come +a-walkin' through the fiel with ten or twelve o' his houn' dogs. If he +looked in the pails an' was displeased with what he seen in 'em, he took +'em an' dumped 'em out before our very eyes an' let the dogs grab it up. +We didn' git nothin' to eat then 'til we come home late in the evenin'. +After he left we'd pick up pieces of the grub that the dogs left an' eat +'em. Hongry—hongry—we was so hongry.</p> + +<p>"We had our separate cabins an' at sunset all of us would go in an' shut +the door an' pray the Lord Marster Jim didn' call us out.</p> + +<p>"We never had much clothes 'ceptin' what was give us by the marster or +the mistis. Winter time we never had 'nough to wear nor 'nough to eat. +We wore homespun all the time. The marster didn' think we needed +anything, but jus' a little.</p> + +<p>"We didn' go to church, but Sundays we'd gather 'roun' an' listen to the +mistis read a little out o' the Bible. The marster said we didn' need no +religion an' he finally stopped her from readin' to us.</p> + +<p>"When the war come Marster was a captain of a regiment. He went away an' +stayed a year. When he come back he was even meaner than before.</p> + +<p>"When he come home from the war he stayed for two weeks. The night 'fore +he was a-fixin' to leave to go back he come out on his front porch to +smoke his pipe. He was a-standin' leanin' up ag'in' a railin' when +somebody sneaked up in the darkness an' shot him three times. Oh my +Lord! He died the nex' mornin'. He never knowed who done it. I was glad +they shot him down.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes the cavalry would come an' stay at the house an' the mistis +would have to 'tend to 'em an' see that they got plenty to eat an' fresh +horses.</p> + +<p>"I never seen no fightin'. I stayed on the plantation 'til the war was +over. I didn' see none o' the fightin'.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout Jefferson Davis. Lincoln was the man that +set us free. He was a big general in the war.</p> + +<p>"I 'member a song we sung, then. It went kinda like this:</p> + +<pre> +'Free at las', +Free at las', +Thank God Almighty +I's free at las'. +Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm.' +</pre> + +<p>"I only seen the Klu Klux Klan onct. They was a-paradin' the streets +here in Brookhaven. They had a Nigger that they was a-goin' to tar an' +feather.</p> + +<p>"When the mistis tol' us we was free (my pappy was already dead, then) +my mammy packed us chillun up to move. We travelled on a cotton wagon to +Covington, Louisiana. We all worked on a farm there 'bout a year. Then +all 'cept me moved to Mandeville, Louisiana an' worked on a farm there. +I hired out to Mr. Charlie Duson, a baker. Then we moved to a farm above +Baton Rouge, Louisiana an' worked for Mr. Abe Manning. We jus' travelled +all over from one place to another.</p> + +<p>"Then I got a letter from a frien' o' mine in Gainesville, Mississippi. +He had a job for me on a boat, haulin' lumber up the coast to Bay St. +Louis, Pass Christian, Long Beach, Gulfport, an' all them coast towns. I +worked out o' Gainesville on this boat for 'bout two year. I lost track +o' my family then an' never seen 'em no more.</p> + +<p>"In the year 1870 I got the call from the Lord to go out an' preach. I +left Gainesville an' travelled to Summit, Mississippi where another +frien' o' mine lived. I preached the words of the Lord an' travelled +from one place to another.</p> + +<p>"In 1873 I got married an' decided to settle in Brookhaven. I preached +an' all my flock believed in me. I bought up this house an' the two on +each side of it. Here I raised seven chillun in the way o' the Lord. +They is all in different parts of the country now, but I sees one of 'em +ever' now an' then. Las' April the Lord seen fit to put me a-bed an' I +been ailin' with misery ever since.</p> + +<p>"The young folks now-a-days are happy an' don't know' bout war an' +slavery times, but I does. They don't know nothin' an' don't make the +mark in the worl' that the old folks did. Old people made the first +roads in Mississippi. The Niggers today wouldn' know how to act on a +plantation. But they are happy. We was miserable.</p> + +<p>"Slavery days was bitter an' I can't forgit the sufferin'. Oh, God! I +hates 'em, hates 'em. God Almighty never meant for human beings to be +like animals. Us Niggers has a soul an' a heart an' a <u>min'</u>. We +aint like a dog or a horse. If all marsters had been good like some, the +slaves would all a-been happy. But marstars like mine ought never been +allowed to own Niggers.</p> + +<p>"I didn' spec nothin' out of freedom 'ceptin' peace an' happiness an' +the right to go my way as I pleased. I prays to the Lord for us to be +free, always.</p> + +<p>"That's the way God Almighty wants it."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="NecaiseHenri"></a> +<h3>Henri Necaise, Ex-Slave, Pearl River County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. C.E. Wells<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +HENRI NECAISE<br> +Nicholson, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Henri Necaise, ex-slave, 105 years old, lives a half-mile south of +Nicholson on US 11. Uncle Henri lives in a small plank cabin enclosed by +a fence. He owns his cabin and a small piece of land. He is about five +feet ten inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. His sight and hearing are +very good.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Harrison County, 19 miles from Pass Christian, 'long de +ridge road from de swamp near Wolf River. My Marster was Ursan Ladnier. +De Mistis' name was Popone. Us was all French. My father was a white +man, Anatole Necaise. I knowed he was my father, 'cause he used to call +me to him an' tell me I was his oldes' son.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed my mother. I was a slave an' my mother was sol' from me +an' her other chilluns. Dey tol' me when dey sol' 'er my sister was +a-holdin' me in her arms. She was standin' behin' da Big House peekin' +'roun' de corner an' seen de las' of her mother. I seen her go, too. Dey +tell me I used to go to de gate a-huntin' for my mammy. I used to sleep +wid my sister after dat.</p> + +<p>"Jus' lemme study a little, an' I'll tell you 'bout de Big House. It was +'bout 60 feet long, built o' hewed logs, in two parts. De floors was +made o' clay dey didn' have lumber for floors den. Us lived right close +to de Big House in a cabin. To tell de truf, de fac' o' de business is, +my Marster took care o' me better'n I can take care o' myse'f now.</p> + +<p>"When us was slaves Marster tell us what to do. He say, 'Henri, do dis, +do dat.' An' us done it. Den us didn' have to think whar de nex' meal +comin' from, or de nex' pair o' shoes or pants. De grub an' clo'es give +us was better'n I ever gits now.</p> + +<p>"Lemme think an' counts. My Marster didn' have a lot o' slaves. Dere was +one, two, three, fo', yes'm, jus' fo' o' us slaves. I was de +stockholder. I tended de sheep an' cows an' such lak. My Marster didn' +raise no big crops, jus' corn an' garden stuff. He had a heap o' cattle. +Dey could run out in de big woods den, an' so could de sheeps. He sol' +cattle to N'awlins[FN: New Orleans] an' Mobile, where he could git de +bes' price. Dat's de way folks does now, aint it? Dey sells wherever dey +can git de mos' money.</p> + +<p>"Dey didn' give me money, but, you see, I was a slave. Dey sho' give me +ever'thing else I need, clo'es an' shoes. I always had a-plenty t'eat, +better'n I can git now. I was better off when I was a slave dan I is +now, 'cause I had ever'thing furnished me den. Now I got to do it all +myse'f.</p> + +<p>"My Marster was a Catholic. One thing I can thank dem godly white folks +for, dey raise' me right. Dey taught me out o' God's word, 'Our Father +which art in Heaven.' Ever'body ought-a know dat prayer."</p> + +<p>(Note. In this Wolf River territory in Harrison County, where Uncle +Henri was born and raised, all the settlers were French Catholics, and +it was the scene of early Catholic missions.)</p> + +<p>"I was rais' a Catholic, but when I come here twant no church an' I +joined de Baptis' an' was baptised. Now de white folks lemme go to dey +church. Dey aint no cullud church near 'nough so's I can go. I spec' its +all right. I figgers dat God is ever'where.</p> + +<p>"My Mistis knowed how to read an' write. I don' know 'bout de Marster. +He could keep sto' anyway. Us all spoke French in dem days. I near 'bout +forgit all de songs us used to sing. Dey was all in French anyway, an' +when you don' speak no French for 'bout 60 years, you jus' forgit it.</p> + +<p>"I'se knowed slaves to run away, an' I'se seen 'em whupped. I seen good +marsters an' mean ones. Dey was good slaves an' mean ones. But to tell +de truf, if dey tol' a slave to do anything, den he jus' better do it.</p> + +<p>"I was big' nough in de Civil War to drive five yoke o' steers to Mobile +an' git grub to feed de wimmins an' chilluns. Some o' de mens was +a-fightin' an' some was a-runnin' an' hidin'. I was a slave an' I had to +do what dey tol' me. I carried grub into de swamp to men, but I never +knowed what dey was a-hidin' from."</p> + +<p>(This may be explained by the fact that Uncle Henri was owned by and +lived in a settlement of French People, many of whom probably had no +convictions or feeling of loyalty, one way or the other, during the War +Between the States.)</p> + +<p>"My old Marster had fo' sons, an' de younges' one went to de war an' was +killed.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees come to Pass Christian, I was dere, an' seen 'em. Dey come +up de river an' tore up things as dey went along.</p> + +<p>"I was 31 years old when I was set free. My Marster didn' tell us' bout +bein' free. De way I foun' it out, he started to whup me once an' de +young Marster up an' says, 'You aint got no right to whup him now, he's +free.' Den Marster turnt me loose.</p> + +<p>"It was dem Carpetbaggers dat 'stroyed de country. Dey went an' turned +us loose, jus' lak a passel o' cattle, an' didn' show us nothin' or giv' +us nothin'. Dey was acres an' acres o' lan' not in use, an' lots o' +timber in dis country. Dey should-a give each one o' us a little farm +an' let us git out timber an' build houses. Dey ought to put a white +Marster over us, to show us an' make us work, only let us be free 'stead +o' slaves. I think dat would-a been better 'n turnin' us loose lak dey +done.</p> + +<p>"I lef' my Marster an' went over to de Jordon River, an' dere I stayed +an' worked. I saved my money an' dat giv' me a start. I never touched +it' til de year was winded up. To tell da truf, de fac's o' de matter +is, it was my Marstars kinfolks I was workin' for.</p> + +<p>"I bought me a schooner wid dat money an' carried charcoal to N'awlins. +I done dis for 'bout two years an' den I los' my schooner in a storm off +o' Bay St. Louis.</p> + +<p>"After I los' my schooner, I come here an' got married. Dis was in 1875 +an' I was 43 years old. Dat was my firs' time to marry. I'se got dat +same wife today. She was born a slave, too. I didn' have no chillun, but +my wife did. She had one gal-chil'. She lives at Westonia an' is de +mammy o' ten chillun. She done better'n us done. I'se got a lot o' +gran'-chillun. What does you call de nex' den? Lemme see, great +gran'-chillun, dat's it.</p> + +<p>"I never did b'lieve in no ghos' an' hoodoos an' charms.</p> + +<p>"I never did look for to git nothin' after I was free. I had dat in my +head to git me 80 acres o' lan' an' homestead it. As for de gov'ment +making me a present o' anything, I never thought 'bout it. But jus' now +I needs it.</p> + +<p>"I did git me dis little farm, 40 acres, but I bought it an' paid for it +myse'f. I got de money by workin' for it. When I come to dis country I +dug wells an' built chimneys on' houses. (Once I dug a well 27 feet an' +come to a coal bed. I went through de coal an' foun' water. Dat was on +de Jordon River.) Dat clay chimney an' dis here house has been built 52 +years. I's still livin' in' em. Dey's mine. One acre, I giv' to de Lawd +for a graveyard an' a churchhouse. I wants to be buried dere myse'f.</p> + +<p>"A white lady paid my taxes dis year. I raises a garden an' gits de Old +Age 'Sistance. It aint 'nough to buy grub an' clo'es for me an' de old +woman an' pay taxes, so us jus' has to git 'long de bes' us can wid de +white folks he'p.</p> + +<p>"It aint none o' my business' bout whether de Niggers is better off free +dan slaves. I dont know 'cept 'bout me, I was better off den. I did earn +money after I was free, but after all, you know <u>money is de root o' +all evil</u>. Dat what de Good Book say. When I was a slave I only had +to obey my Marster an' he furnish me ever'thing. Once in a while he +would whup me, but what was dat? You can't raise nary chile, white or +black, widout chastisin'. De law didn' low dem to dominize over us, an' +dey didn' try.</p> + +<p>"I's gittin' mighty old now, but I used to be pretty spry. I used to go +60 miles out on de Gulf o' Mexico, as 'terpreter on dem big ships dat +come from France. Dat was 'fore I done forgot my French talk what I was +raised to speak.</p> + +<p>"De white folks is mighty good to me. De riches' man in Picayune, he +recognizes me an' gives me two bits or fo' bits. I sho' has plenty o' +good frien's. If I gits out o' grub, I catches me a ride to town, an' I +comes back wid de grub.</p> + +<p>"De good Lawd, he don't forgit me."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SingletonJames"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[REV. JAMES SINGLETON<br> +Simpson, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My name's James Singleton. I'se a Baptist preacher. I was born in 1856, +but I doan know zactly what date. My mammy was Harr'et Thompson. Her +marster was Marse Daniel Thompson over in Simpson County on Strong River +at a place called Westville. My pappy, he come from South +Ca'lina—Charleston—an' was give to do old folks' darter. His name was +John Black an' he was owned by Mr. Frank Smith over in Simpson. He was +brought down frum South Ca'lina in a wagon 'long wid lots mo'.</p> + +<p>"Me, I was sol' to Marse Harrison Hogg over in Simpson when I was 'bout +six years old, and Marse Hogg, he turn right 'roun', and sol' me an' +sister Harr'et an' brother John nex' day for fo' thousan'. Two thousan' +fo' John, 'cause he's older an' bigger, an' a thousan' fo' Harr'et an' +me. Miss Annie an' Marse Elbert Bell bought us.</p> + +<p>"Marse Elbert had three mo' sides us—makin' six. Us slep' on pallets on +de flo', an' all lived in one long room made out of logs, an' had a dirt +flo' an' dirt chimbly. There was a big old iron pot hangin' over de +hearth, an' us had 'possum, greens, taters, and de lak cooked in it. Had +coon sometimes, too.</p> + +<p>"Marse Elbert, he lived in jes a plain wood house made Califo'nia style, +wid a front room an' a shed room where de boys slep'. Dey had two boys, +Jettie an' William.</p> + +<p>"I reckin dere was 'bout a hun'erd an' sixty acres planted in taters an' +corn, an' dey made whiskey too. Yessum, dey had a 'stillery[FN: +distillery] hid down in de woods where dey made it.</p> + +<p>"My mammy an' pappy was fiel' han's, an' I was mighty little to do so +much. I jes minded de cow pen, made fires in de Big House, an' swep' de +house. When I made de fires, iffen dere wa'nt any live coale lef', we +had to use a flint rock to git it sta'ted.</p> + +<p>"Dere was a bell ringin' every mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock, fer to call de +slaves tar git up an' go to de fiel's. Day wuked 'til sundown. Dey was +fed in de white folks' kitchen, and Cook cooked fer us jes lak she done +fer de whites. De kitchen was built off a piece frum de hous', y'know.</p> + +<p>"Marse never did whup any of us li'l chullun. Miss Annie, she tried once +to whup me 'cause I chunked rocks at her li'l chickens, but mighty +little whuppin' she done. Dere wa'nt no overseer.</p> + +<p>"Chris'mas time, we had two or three days to play, an' had extry food.</p> + +<p>"I seen 'pattyrollers' ridin' 'bout to keep de darkies from runnin' +'roun' widout passes. I never seen 'em whup none but dey tol' us we'd +git twen'y-nine licks iffen we got caught by 'em. I seen darkies git +whuppin's on other plantations—whup 'em half a day sometimes, gen'ly +when dey tried to run away.</p> + +<p>"We didn' have no dancin' dat I 'member, but had plen'y log rollin's. +Had fiddlin', an' all would jine in singin' songs, lak, "Run nigger run, +pattyrollers ketch you, run nigger run, it's breakin' days." I still +fiddle dat chune[FN: tune]. Well, you see, dey jes rolled up all de old +dead logs an' trees in a big pile, and burned it at night.</p> + +<p>"I seen de Yankee sojers when dey passed our house but dey didn' bother +us none. None didn' even stop in. Dey was wearin' blue jackets an' had +gold buttons on caps an' jackets. But when de Confed'rate sojers come +along, dey stopped an' killed a fat cow er two, an' taken de fat hoss +an' lef' a lean one, an' taken ever'thing else dey seen dey wanted.</p> + +<p>"No'm, didn' none of de slaves run off wid dem dat I knows of, an' de +Yankees didn' try to bother us none. Well, afte' de War, Marse Elbert +tol' us dat we was free now, an' pappy come an' got us an' taken us to +live wid de cook on Mr. Elisha Bishop's place, an' he paid Mr. Barren +Bishop to teach us. He taught us out of Webster's Blue Back Spellin' +Book.</p> + +<p>"My pappy, he had a stolen ejucation—'at was cause his mistress back in +South Ca'Line hoped him to learn to read an' write 'fo he lef' there. +You see, in dem days, it was ag'inst de law fer slaves to read.</p> + +<p>"I was glad to be free 'cause I don't b'lieve sellin' an' whuppin' +peoples is right. I certainly does think religion is a good thing, +'cause I'se a Baptist preacher right now, and I live 'bout six miles +from Crystal Springs. I farm too.</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithBerry"></a> +<h3>Berry Smith, Ex-slave, Scott County<br> +FEC<br> +W.B. Allison<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +BERRY SMITH<br> +Forest, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Uncle Berry" Smith is five feet two or three inches tall. He is +scrupulously neat. He is very independent for his age, which is +calculated at one hundred and sixteen years. He believes the figure to +be correct. His mind is amazingly clear.</p> + +<p>"I was born an' bred in Sumpter County, Alabama, in de prairie lan', six +miles from Gainesville. Dat's where I hauled cotton. It was close to +Livingston, Alabama, where we lived.</p> + +<p>"I was twelve years old when de stars fell. Dey fell late in de night +an' dey lighted up de whole earth. All de chaps was a-runnin' 'roun' +grabbin' for 'em, but none of us ever kotched[FN: caught] one. It's a +wonder some of' em didn' hit us, but dey didn'. Dey never hit de groun' +atall.</p> + +<p>"When dey runned de Injuns out de country, me an' another chap kotched +one o' dem Injun's ponies an hung him up[FN: tied him up] in de grape +vines. He said it was his pony an' I said it was mine.</p> + +<p>"Marse Bob's boy tol' us his daddy was gwine a-whup us for stealin' dat +pony, so we hid out in de cane for two nights. Marse Bob an' his brother +whupped us' til we didn' want to see no more Injuns or dey ponies, +neither.</p> + +<p>"I was born a slave to Old Marse Jim Harper an' I fell to Marse Bob. +Marse Jim bought my pa an' ma from a man by de name o' Smith, an' Pa +kep' de name. Dat's how come I is Berry Smith.</p> + +<p>"Dey didn' have no schools for us an' didn' teach us nothin' but work. +De bull-whip an' de paddle was all de teachin' we got. De white +preachers used to preach to de Niggers sometimes in de white folks' +church, but I didn' go much.</p> + +<p>"We had fun in dem days in spite o' ever'thing. De pranks we used to +play on dem paterollers! Sometimes we tied ropes 'crost de bridge an' de +paterollers'd hit it an' go in de creek. Maybe we'd be fiddlin' an' +dancin' on de bridge (dat was de grown folks, but de chaps 'ud come, +too) an' dey'd say, 'Here come de paterollers!' Den we'd put out. If we +could git to de marster's house, we was all right. Marse Bob wouldn' let +no pateroller come on his place. Marse Alf wouldn', neither. Dey said it +was all right if we could git home widout bein' kotched, but we have to +take dat chance.</p> + +<p>"At de Big House dey had spinnin' wheels an' a loom. Dey made all de +clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun was what dey called de goods. +My ma used to spin an' weave in de loom room at de Big House.</p> + +<p>"Dey was two plantations in de marster's lan' an' dey worked a heap o' +Niggers. I was a house boy an' didn' go to de fiel' much.</p> + +<p>"We had overseers on de place, but dey was jus' hired men. Dey was po' +white folks an' only got paid 'bout three or fo' hund'ed dollars a year.</p> + +<p>"When we lef' Alabama we come to Mississippi. We went to de Denham place +near Garlandsville. We brought eighteen Niggers. We walked a hund'ed +miles an' it took five days an' nights. De women an' little chaps +rid[FN: rode] on de wagons (dey had five mules to de wagon) an' de men +an' de big chaps walked. My pa an' ma come along.</p> + +<p>"We stayed on de Denham place 'bout three years. Den we moved to +Homewood an' stayed five years. I hung de boards for Marse Bob's house +in Homewood.</p> + +<p>"Den we come to Forest. Dey brought all de fam'ly over here—all my +brothers an' sisters. Dey was five of' em—Wash an' East is de two I +'members. All o' us b'longed to de Harper fam'ly. Marse Bob owned us. My +ma an' pa both died here in Forest.</p> + +<p>"I he'ped to build dis house for Marse Bob. I cleaned de lan' an' lef de +trees where he tol' me. He lived in a little old shack whilst we built +de Big House.</p> + +<p>"Mr. M.D. Graham put up de firs' store here an' de secon' was put up by +my marster.</p> + +<p>"I worked in de fiel' some, but mos'ly I was a house servant. I used to +go all over de country a-huntin' eggs an' chickens for de fam'ly on' +count dey was so much comp'ny at de house.</p> + +<p>"A heap o' white folks was good to dey Niggers, jus' as good as dey +could be, but a heap of' em was mean, too. My mistis was good to us an' +so was Marse Jim Harper. He wouldn' let de boys 'buse us while he lived, +but when he died dey was wild an' cruel. Dey was hard taskmasters. We +was fed good three times a day, but we was whupped too much. Dat got me. +I couldn' stan' it. De old marster give us good dinners at Chris'mus, +but de young ones stopped all dat.</p> + +<p>"De firs' train I ever seen was in Brandon. I went dere to carry some +horses for my marster. It sho' was a fine lookin' engine. I was lookin' +at it out of a upstairs window an' when it whistled I'd a-jumped out dat +window if Captain Harper hadn' a-grabbed me.</p> + +<p>"I didn' see no fightin' in de war. When Gen'l Sherman come th'ough +here, he come by Hillsboro. Marse Bob didn' go to de war. He 'listed[FN: +enlisted], but he come right back an' went to gittin' out cross ties for +de railroad. He warnt no sojer. Colonel Harper, dat was Marse Alf, +<u>he</u> was de sojer. He warnt scared o' nothin' or nobody.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees ask me to go to de war, but I tol' 'em, 'I aint no rabbit to +live in de woods. My marster gives me three good meals a day an' a good +house an' I aint a-goin'.' Marse Bob used to feed us fine an' he was +good to us. He wouldn' let no overseer touch his Niggers, but he whupped +us, hisse'f.</p> + +<p>"Den de Yankees tol' me I was free, same as dey was. I come an' tol' +Marse Bob I was a-goin'. He say, 'If you don't go to work, Nigger, you +gwine a-git whupped.' So I run away an' hid out in de woods. De nex' day +I went to Meridian. I cooked for de sojers two months, den I come back +to Forest an' worked spikin' ties for de railroad.</p> + +<p>"I hear'd a heap of talk 'bout Jeff Davis an' Abe Lincoln, but didn' +know nothin' 'bout 'em. We hear'd 'bout de Yankees fightin' to free us, +but we didn' b'lieve it 'til we hear'd 'bout de fightin' at Vicksburg.</p> + +<p>"I voted de 'publican ticket after de surrender, but I didn' bother wid +no politics. I didn' want none of 'em.</p> + +<p>"De Kloo Kluxers[FN: Ku Klux's] was bad up above here, but I never seen +any. I hear'd tell of 'em whuppin' folks, but I don't know nothin' 'bout +it, much.</p> + +<p>"Mos' all de Niggers dat had good owners stayed wid 'em, but de others +lef'. Some of 'em come back an' some didn'.</p> + +<p>"I hear'd a heap o' talk 'bout ever' Nigger gittin forty acres an' a +mule. Dey had us fooled up 'bout it, but I never seen nobody git +nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I hope dey won't be no more war in my time. Dat one was turrible. Dey +can all go dat wants to, but I aint a-goin'.</p> + +<p>"I seen Gen'l Grant at Vicksburg after de war. (He was a little short +man.) All de Niggers went dere for somethin'—me 'mongst 'em. I don't +know what we went for.</p> + +<p>"I took to steamboatin' at Vicksburg 'cause I could cut[FN: place for +storage or shipment] cotton so good. (I could cut cotton now wid a +cotton hook if I warnt so old.)</p> + +<p>"I steamboated twixt New Orleans an' St. Louis on de 'Commonwealth,' a +freight packet, way up yonder in St. Louis. I don't know what country +dat was in. But de rousters had a big fight one night in New Orleans, +shootin' an' cuttin', so I lef'. When I got back to Vicksburg, I quit.</p> + +<p>"I picked cotton in de Delta awhile, but de folks, white an' black, is +too hard. Dey don't care 'bout nothin! I was in Greenville when de water +come. I hear'd a noise like de wind an' I asked dem Niggers, 'Is dat a +storm?' Dey said, 'No, dat's de river comin' th'ough an' you better come +back 'fore de water ketch[FN: catch] you.' I say, 'If it ketch me it +gwine a-ketch me on my way home.' I aint been back since.</p> + +<p>"Den I come back here an' went to farmin' an' I been here ever since. I +bought forty-seven acres an' a nice little house. De house burnt down, +but de white folks built me a better one. Dey's good an' kin' to me. Dey +say I's a good man.</p> + +<p>"My wife was six year old at de surrender. She b'longed to Marse Alf, +but we was free when we married. We had sixteen chillun. Mos' of 'em +lives 'roun 'here. Some in Newton, some in Scott, an' some in Texas. My +wife died two years ago las' March.</p> + +<p>"Marse Bob died right here in dis here house. He died a po' man. If my +old mistis had a-been here she wouldn' a-let' em treat him like dey +done. If I'd a-been here I wouldn' a-let' em done like dat, neither.</p> + +<p>"I been a-livin' by myse'f since my wife died. My son, Oscar, lives on +de lan' an' rents it from me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's gwine a-happen to de young folks now-a-days. Dey +know better, but dey's wild an' don't care 'bout nothin'. I aint got no +time to fool wid 'em. Looks like dey don't care 'bout workin' at +nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I been a-workin' all my life, an' I'se seen good times an' bad times. I +loves to work yet. I's gwine out now soon's I git my dinner an' he'p +finish pickin' dat patch o' cotton. I can pick two hund'ed pounds a day +an' I's one hund'ed an' sixteen year old. I picks wid both han's an' +don't have to stoop much. My back don't never ache me atall. My mammy +teached me to pick cotton. She took a pole to me if I didn' do it right. +I been a-pickin ever since. I'd ruther pick cotton dan eat, any day.</p> + +<p>"But I'se seen enough. I's jus' a-waitin' for de call to meet all my +folks in Heaven. Dey's a better place dan dis an' I's a-tryin' to treat +ever'body right so's I can git to go to it.</p> + +<p>"I's listenin' hard for dat call an' I know it won't be long a-comin'."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SnowSusan"></a> +<h3>Susan Snow, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County<br> +FEC<br> +W.B. Allison<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +SUSAN SNOW<br> +Meridian, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Aunt Sue" Snow, a rather small and profusely wrinkled 87-year-old +ex-slave, lives in the Negro quarters of the South Side in Meridian.</p> + +<p>In spite of her wild escapades, her reputation for honesty and +reliability is high and she carries and exhibits with pride numerous +letters attesting that fact.</p> + +<p>She often finds it necessary to stand and act the story she is telling. +Her memory is amazing and she turns with equal readiness to copious +quotations from the Scripture and other pious observations to amusing +but wholly unprintable anecdotes of her somewhat lurid past.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Wilcox County, Alabama, in 1850. W.J. Snow was my old +marster. He bought my ma from a man named Jerry Casey. Venus was her +name, but dey mos'ly called her 'Venie.'</p> + +<p>"I's workin' now for one o' my old folks. I can't work much—jus' +carries things to 'er an' such. She's my old mistis' own daughter an' +she's got gran'chillun grown an' married. All de chillun dat's livin' is +older'n me.</p> + +<p>"When her pa bought my mammy, I was a baby. Her pa owned a heap o' +Niggers. I's de only one still hangin' aroun'.</p> + +<p>"My ma was a black African an' she sho' was wild an' mean. She was so +mean to me I couldn' b'lieve she was my mammy. Dey couldn' whup her +widout tyin' her up firs'. Sometimes my marster would wait 'til de nex' +day to git somebody to he'p tie her up, den he'd forgit to whup 'er. Dey +used to say she was a cunger an' dey was all scared of 'er. But my ma +was scared o' cungers, too.</p> + +<p>"All de Niggers on de place was born in de fam'ly an' was kin, 'cept my +ma. She tol' me how dey brought her from Africa. You know, like we say +'President' in dis country, well dey call him 'Chief' in Africa. Seem +like de Chief made 'rangements wid some men an' dey had a big goober +grabbin' for de young folks. Dey stole my ma an' some more an' brung 'em +to dis country.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout havin' no pa. You know, honey, in dem +days husbands an' wives didn' b'long to de same folks. My ma say her +husband was so mean dat after us lef' Alabama she didn' want to marry no +more.</p> + +<p>"A man didn' git to see his wife 'cept twict a week. Dat was Wednesday +an' Satu'd'y night.</p> + +<p>"De women had to walk a chalk line. I never hear'd tell o' wives runnin' +'roun' wid other men in dem days.</p> + +<p>"I was raised in Jasper County. Marster bought lan' from ever'body +'roun' 'til he had a big plantation. He had Niggers, horses, mules, +cows, hogs, an' chickens. He was a rich man, den.</p> + +<p>"Ever' Nigger had a house o' his own. My ma never would have no board +floor like de res' of' em, on' count she was a African—only dirt. (Dey +say she was 108 year old when she died.)</p> + +<p>"Us went to church wid de white folks if us wanted to. Dey didn' make +us. I didn' go much, 'cause I didn' have 'ligion, den. Us didn' have no +schoolin'. Us could go to school wid de white chillun if us wanted to, +but didn' nobody teach us. I's educated, but I aint educated in de +books. I's educated by de licks an' bumps I got.</p> + +<p>"My white folks was good people an' didn' whup nobody, 'less dey needed +it. Some o' de Niggers was sho' 'nough bad. Dey used to take de +marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got +dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course, +Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour +after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he +didn'.</p> + +<p>"When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for +deyse'ves. Dey called 'im in to 'scribe for us. I was snake-bit when I +was eight year old. Dey used to be a medicine named 'lobelia.' De doctor +give me dat an' whiskey. My ma carried me up to de Big House ever' +mornin' an' lef' me, an' carried me home at night. Old Mis' 'ud watch +over me in de day time.</p> + +<p>"My young marster tol' me dat when I got to be ten year old, I'd have a +snake coiled up on my liver. Dat scared me mos' to death 'til I was past +ten year old.</p> + +<p>"Dey made all de Niggers' clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun, dey +called it. Dey had spinnin' wheels an' cards an' looms at de Big House. +All de women spinned in de winter time.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed what it was to wear more dan one garment, 'til I was +mos' grown. I never had a pair o' shoes o' my own. Old Mis' let me wear +her'n sometimes. Dey had shoes for de old folks, but not for de chillun.</p> + +<p>"I got more whuppin's dan any other Nigger on de place, 'cause I was +mean like my mammy. Always a-fightin' an' scratchin' wid white an' +black. I was so bad Marster made me go look at de Niggers dey hung to +see what dey done to a Nigger dat harm a white man.</p> + +<p>"I's gwine tell dis story on myse'f. De white chillun was a-singin' dis +song:</p> + +<pre> +'Jeff Davis, long an' slim, +Whupped old Abe wid a hick'ry limb. + +Jeff Davis is a wise man, Lincoln is a fool, +Jeff Davis rides a gray, an' Lincoln rides a mule.' +</pre> + +<p>I was mad anyway, so I hopped up an' sung dis one:</p> + +<pre> +'Old Gen'l Pope had a shot gun, +Filled it full o' gum, +Killed 'em as dey come. + +Called a Union band, +Make de Rebels un'erstan' +To leave de lan', +Submit to Abraham.' +</pre> + +<p>"Old Mis' was a-standin' right b'hin' me. She grabbed up de broom an' +laid it on me. She made <u>me</u> submit. I caught de feathers, don't +you forgit it.</p> + +<p>"I didn' know it was wrong. I'd hear'd de Niggers sing it an' I didn' +know dey was a-singin' in dey sleeves. I didn' know nothin' 'bout Abe +Lincoln, but I hear'd he was a-tryin' to free de Niggers an' my mammy +say she want to be free.</p> + +<p>"De young folks used to make up a heap o' songs, den. Dey'd +decompose[FN: compose] dey own songs an' sing' em. I never will forgit +one song dey sung when dey buried anybody. It made Old Marster, Mistis, +an' all of' em cry. Us chillun cried, too. It went like dis:</p> + +<pre> +'My mother prayed in de wilderness, +In de wilderness, +In de wilderness. +My mother prayed in de wilderness. +An' den I'm a-goin' home. + +Chorus: + +Den I'm a-goin' home, +Den I'm a-goin' home. + +We'll all make ready, Lawd, +An' den I'm a-goin' home. + +She plead her cause in de wilderness, +In de wilderness, +In de wilderness. +She plead her cause in de wilderness. +An' den I'm a-goin' home.' + +(Repeat chorus) +</pre> + +<p>"Old Aunt Hannah fell to my marster from his daddy. She had twelve +chillun a-workin' on de place. De oldes' was named Adam an' de littlest +was named Eve. She had two twins what was named Rachel an' Leah. Dey +nussed my mistis' two twins. Dey kep' one a-nussin' mos' all de time.</p> + +<p>"My ma was de cause o' my marster a-firin' all de overseers. (Dey blamed +ever'thing on her 'cause she was de only bought Nigger.) Marster say she +was a valuable Nigger, but she was so mean he was afraid dey'd kill her. +He say, 'She'll work widout no watchin' an' overseers aint nothin', +nohow.'</p> + +<p>"Dey was a white man—I aint lyin'—I know him an' I seen him. He had +Nigger houn's an' he made money a-huntin' runaway Niggers. His own +Niggers kilt 'im. Dey hung 'em for it. Two was his Niggers an' one +b'long to somebody else.</p> + +<p>"My young marster used to work in de fiel' wid us. He'd boss de Niggers. +Dey called 'im Bud, but us all called 'im 'Babe.' Honey, I sho' did love +dat boy.</p> + +<p>"When de war come dey used to tease him an' say, 'Bud, why don't you go +to de war?' Dey laughed an' teased 'im when he went. But twant no +laughin' when he come home on a furlough an' went back. Dey was cryin' +den. An' well dey mought[FN: might] cry, 'cause he never come back no +more'. He was kilt in de war.</p> + +<p>"Endurin' de war, de white folks made dey clo'es same as de Niggers. Old +Mis' made dye an' dyed de thread. She made pretty cloth.</p> + +<p>"My ma was de firs' to leave de plantation after de surrender. All de +other Niggers had a contrac' to stay, but she didn'. She went to Newton +County an' hired out. She never wanted to stay in one place, nohow. If +she had a crop ha'f made an' somebody made her mad, she'd up an' leave +it an' go some'r's else.</p> + +<p>"You know, dey was mighty strict, 'bout den, wid cullud folks, an' white +people, too. De Kloo Kluxes was out nights. I hear'd tell 'bout 'em +whuppin' people. But dey never bothered me.</p> + +<p>"Dey was speakers gwine aroun', tellin' de Niggers what dey was gwine +a-git. Dey never got nothin' to my knowledge, 'cept de gov'ment let 'em +homestead lan'. My ma homesteaded a place close to Enterprise, Scott +County, but she got mad an' lef' it like she always done.</p> + +<p>"She was a-gittin' long in years afore she got 'ligion. (She was good to +me after dat.) She couldn' learn de Lawd's Prayer, but she used to pray, +'Our Father, which are in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name. Thy mercy, Lawd, +You've showed to others; That mercy show to me. Amen.' She went to res' +in it, too.</p> + +<p>"I went to Enterprise, den to Meridian, nussin' (wet-nussin' when I +could) an' workin' out. I never worked in de fiel', if I could he'p it. +(Old Mis' hired me out as a nuss firs' when I was eight year old.)</p> + +<p>"When I come to Meridian, I cut loose. I's tellin' de truf! I's a woman, +but I's a prodigal. I used to be a old drunkard. My white folks kep' +tellin' me if I got locked up one more time dey wouldn' pay my fine. But +dey done it ag'in an' ag'in.</p> + +<p>"De Niggers called me 'Devil.' I was a devil 'til I got 'ligion. I warnt +baptized 'til 1887. Den I foun' peace. I had a vision. I tol' it to a +white lady an' she say, 'Susie, dat's 'ligion a-callin' you.' (But you +know, honey, white folks' 'ligion aint like Niggers' 'ligion. I know a +woman dat couldn' 'member de Lawd's Prayer, an' she got 'ligion out o' +prayin', 'January, February, March'.) I didn' join de church 'til 1891, +after I had a secon' vision. I's a member in good standin' now. I done +put all my badness b'hin' me, 'cept my temper. I even got dat under more +control.</p> + +<p>"I didn' used to be scared o' cunjers. I's scared now, 'cause I had it +done to me. I want to bed well an' healthy an' de nex' nornin' I couldn' +git up atall. I's tellin de truf. A cullud man done it. He was a +crippled man, an' mean as he could be. I was good to him, too. He tol' +me' bout it, hisse'f:</p> + +<p>"'He went to de graveyard an' got some o' de meanes' dirt he could fin' +(I don't know how he knowed which was de meanes' grave) an' put it under +my doorsill.' He sho' fix' me. I ask him how come he done it to me an' I +been so good to him. He smile kinda tickle-lak an' say, 'It's a good +thing you was good to me, 'cause, if you hadn' a-been you'd a-been dead +an' in yo' grave by now.'</p> + +<p>"I aint got nary soul what's kin to me dat I knows of. I don't want none +of 'em comin' to me now an' a-sayin', 'Don't you 'member yo' own +cousin?' My white folks he'p me when I needs it.</p> + +<p>"Dese young folks. Shucks! Chile, dey's worse'n what I was, only dey's +more slyer. Dat's all.</p> + +<p>"I's glad I'se got 'ligion, 'cause when I dies I's gwine to de 'Good +Place.'"</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StierIsaac"></a> +<h3>Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County<br> +FEC<br> +Edith Wyatt Moore<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +ISAAC STIER<br> +Natchez, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Miss, my name is Isaac Stier, but folks calls me 'Ike.' I was named by +my pappy's young Marster an' I aint never tol' nobody all o' dat name. +It's got twenty-two letters in it. It's wrote but in de fam'ly Bible. +Dat's how I knows I'll be one hund'ed years old if I lives 'til de turn +o' de year. I was born in Jefferson County 'tween Hamburg an' Union +Church. De plantation joined de Whitney place an' de Montgomery place, +too. I b'longed to Marse Jeems Stowers. I don't rightly 'member how many +acres my Marster owned, but 'twas a big plantation wid eighty or ninety +head o' grown folks workin' it. No tellin' how many little black folks +dey was.</p> + +<p>"My mammy was Ellen Stier an' my pappy was Jordon Stier. He was bought +to dis country by a slave dealer from Nashville, Tennessee. Dey traveled +all de way through de Injun Country on afoot. Dey come on dat Trace +road. Twant nothin' but a Injun Trail.</p> + +<p>"When dey got to Natchez de slaves was put in de pen 'tached to de slave +markets. It stood at de forks o' St. Catherine Street an' de Liberty +road. Here dey was fed an' washed an' rubbed down lak race hosses. Den +dey was dressed up an' put through de paces dat would show off dey +muscles. My pappy was sol' as a twelve year old, but he always said he +was nigher twenty.</p> + +<p>"De firs' man what bought him was a preacher, but he only kep' 'im a +little while. Den he was sol' to Mr. Preacher Robinson. He was a +Methodis'.</p> + +<p>"De slaves was well treated when dey got sick. My Marster had a standin' +doctor what he paid by de year. Dey was a horspital building near de +quarters an' a good old granny woman to nuss de sick. Dey was five or +six beds in a room. One room was for mens an' one for wimmins. Us doctor +was name Richardson an' he tended us long after de war. He sho' was a +gent'man an' a powerful good doctor.</p> + +<p>"Us had a overseer on de place, but he warnt mean lak I'se heard o' +other folks havin'. He was Mr. William Robinson. He was good to +ever'body, both white an' cullud. Folks didn' min' workin' for him, +'cause, he spoke kin'. But dey dassen' sass 'im. He was poor. My pappy +b'longed to his pa, Mr. John Robinson. Dat was a nice fam'ly wid sho' +'nough 'ligion. Whilst dey warnt rich, dey had learnin'.</p> + +<p>"As a little tike I wore long slip-lak shirts. When dey sont me to town +I put on britches an' stuffed de tail o' my slip in 'em so's it pass' +for a shirt. I always lived in de Big House an' played wid de white +chillun. I sorta looked after' em. I carried 'em to school. Den whilst +dey was in school I roamed de woods a-huntin'. Sometimes I'd git a big +bag o' game, mos'ly used to feed de slaves.</p> + +<p>"My mistis was Miss Sarah Stowers an' she teached me how to read. She +teached me how to be mannerly, too. On church days I driv'[FN: drove] de +carriage. I was proud to take my folks to meetin'. I always set in de +back pew an' heard de preachin' de same as dey did.</p> + +<p>"De bes' times I can 'member always come 'roun' de Fourth o' July. Dat +was always de beginnin' o' camp-meetin'. Aint nothin' lak dat in dese +days.</p> + +<p>"Ever'body what had any standin' went. Dey cooked up whole trunks full +o' good things t'eat an' driv' over to de camp groun's. De preacher had +a big pavilion covered wid sweet-gum branches an' carpeted wid sawdust. +Folks had wagons wid hay an' quilts whar de men-folks slep'. De ladies +slep' in little log houses an' dey took dey feather beds wid' em. I +always driv' de carriage for my white folks. Whilst dey was a-worshipin' +I'd slip 'roun' an' tas' out o' dey basket. Ever' day I'd eat 'til I was +ready to bus'. One day I got so sick I thought I'd pop wide open. I +crawled down to de spring an' washed my face in col' water, but I kep' +gittin' worse an' worse. Den somebody called out: 'Captain Stier, yo' +Nigger's a-dyin'!' My marster called de doctor. He sho' was shamed in +public, 'cause, he knowed pos'tive I'd been a-pilferin' in dem baskets. +Dem sho' was good old days. I'd love to live' em over ag'in.</p> + +<p>"Us slaves mos'ly sung hymns an' sa'ms.[TR: footnote indicated but none +found] But I' member one song' bout a frog pond an' one 'bout 'Jump, Mr. +Toad.' I's too wordless to sing 'em now, but dey was funny. Us danced +plenty, too. Some o' de men clogged an' pidgeoned, but when us had +dances dey was real cotillions, lak de white folks had. Dey was always a +fiddler an', on Chris'mus an' other holidays, de slaves was' lowed to' +vite dey sweethearts from other plantations. I use to call out de +figgers: 'Ladies, sasshay, Gents to de lef, now all swing.' Ever'body +lak my calls an' de dancers sho' moved smooth an' pretty. Long after de +war was over de white folks would 'gage me to come' roun' wid de band +an' call de figgers at all de big dances. Dey always paid me well.</p> + +<p>"Old Mis' 'ud let us cook a gran' supper an' Marse 'ud slip us some +likker. Dem suppers was de bes' I ever et. Sometimes dey'd be wil' +turkey, fried fish, hot corn pone, fresh pork ham, baked yams, chitlins, +pop corn, apple pie, pound cake, raisins, an' coffee. Law, Miss! de +folks now-a-days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin', nowhow.</p> + +<p>"When de big war broke out I sho' stuck by my marster. I fit[FN: fought] +de Yankees same as he did. I went in de battles 'long side o' him an' +both fit under Marse Robert E. Lee. I reckon ever'body has heard 'bout +him. I seen more folks dan anybody could count. Heaps of 'em was all +tore to pieces an' cryin' to God to let 'em die. I toted water to dem in +blue de same as dem in gray. Folks wouldn' b'lieve de truf if I was to +tell all I knows 'bout dem ungodly times.</p> + +<p>"Fore de war I never knowed what it was to go empty. My marster sho' set +a fine table an' fed his people de highes'. De hongriest I ever been was +at de Siege o' Vicksburg. Dat was a time I'd lak to forgit. De folks et +up all de cats an' dogs an' den went to devourin' de mules an' hosses. +Even de wimmin an' little chillun was a-starvin'. Dey stummicks was +stickin' to dey backbones. Us Niggers was sufferin' so us took de sweaty +hoss blankets an' soaked 'em in mudholes where de hosses tromped. Den us +wrung' em out in buckets an' drunk dat dirty water for pot-likker. It +tasted kinda salty an' was strength'nin', lak weak soup.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, dem Yankees took us by starvation. Twant a fair fight. Dey +called it a vict'ry an' bragged 'bout Vicksburg a-fallin', but hongry +folks aint got no fight lef' in 'em. Us folks was starved into +surrenderin'.</p> + +<p>"De slaves spected a heap from freedon dey didn' git. Dey was led to +b'lieve dey would have a easy time—go places widout passes—an have +plenty o' spendin' money. But dey sho' got fooled. Mos' of 'em didn' +fin' deyse'ves no better off. Pussonally, I had a harder time after de +war dan I did endurin' slav'ry.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees passed as us frien's. Dey made big promises, but dey was +poor reliance. Some of' em meant well towards us, but dey was mistol' +'bout a heap o' things. Dey promised us a mule an' forty acres o' lan'. +Us aint seen no mule yet. Us got de lan' all right, but twant no +service. Fac' is, 'twas way over in a territory where nothin' 'ud grow. +I didn' know nothin' 'bout farmin', nowhow, I'd always been a coachman +an' play companion to de white chillun.</p> + +<p>"De war was over in May 1865, but I was captured at Vicksburg an' hel' +in jail 'til I 'greed to take up arms wid de Nawth. I figgered dat was +'bout all I could do, 'cause dey warnt but one war at Vicksburg an' dat +was over. I was all de time hopin' I could slip off an' work my way back +home, but de Yankees didn' turn me loose 'til 1866.</p> + +<p>"Den I worked in a saloon in St. Louis. Dat was 'bout all I knowed to +do. All de time I was a-cravin' to come back to Mississippi. It sho' +suits my tas' better'n anywhere I'se ever been.</p> + +<p>"When I landed back home my white folks welcome me. After awhile I +married a gal what was real smart 'bout farmin' an' chicken raisin'. So +us share-cropped an' raised a fam'ly. Somehow us always scrapped along. +Sometimes it was by de hardes', but us always had plenty t'eat.</p> + +<p>"All de cullud folks what lived to git back home took to de lan' ag'in. +If dey marster was dead dey went to his frien's an' offered to +share-crop. Dey was all plumb sick o' war. Is sho' is ongodly business. +I never will forgit de fearsome sight o' seein' men die 'fore dey time. +War sho' is de debbil's own work.</p> + +<p>"De Klu Klux Klan didn' bother me none. Course, I was feared of' em at +firs', but I soon learnt dat long as I b'haved myse'f an' tended my +business dey warnt after me. Dey sho' disastered dem what meddled wid de +white folks. Nobody but a smart Alec would a-done dat. Only Niggers +huntin' trouble mixed into white folks bus'ness. Onct or twict I seen +Klu Klux's ridin' by, but dey always traveled fas' an' I kep' my +mouf[FN: mouth] shut.</p> + +<p>"After de war my marster come back home. De fences was gone, de cattle +was gone, de money an' de Niggers was gone, too. On top o' all dat de +whole country was over-run an' plumb took over by white trash. It was +cautious times.</p> + +<p>"After awhile, robbers an' low down trash got to wearin' robes an' +pretendin' dey was Klu Klux's. Folks called dem de 'white caps.' Dey was +vicious, an' us was more scared of 'em dan us'd ever been o' de Klan. +When dey got likkered up de debbil sho' was turnt loose.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jefferson Davis was pretty good' bout some things. But if he hadn' +a-been mulish he could-a 'cepted de proposition Mr. Abe Lincum made 'im. +Den slav'ry would-a lasted always. But he flew into a huff an' swore dat +he'd whip de Yankees wid corn stalks. Dat made Mr. Lincum mad, so he sot +about to free de slaves.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lincum was a good man, but dey tells me he was poor an' never cut +much figger in his clothes. Dat's why he never did un'erstan' how us +felt' bout us white folks. It takes de quality to un'erstan' such +things.</p> + +<p>"Right now, I loves my marster an' his wife in de grave. Dey raised me +an' showed me kindness all dey lives. I was proud of 'em. At de present +time I's under treatment o' young Dr. Stowers, my marster's gran'chil'. +I trusts him an' he is sho' good to me.</p> + +<p>"I rents a place on Providence Plantation 'bout three miles south o' +Natchez. De trip to Natchez in a rickety old wagon is mos' too much in +de hot weather. My heart's mos' wore out. I can't las' long, 'cause I's +had a heap sposure[FN: exposure].</p> + +<p>"I's jus' a bag o' bones now, but onct I stood nearly six feet in my +stockings an' weighed 'bout one hundred an' eighty pounds. I was well +muscled, too. Now I's gittin' kinda gray an' gittin' bald at de same +time. Black folks lak me don't hardly ever git bald.</p> + +<p>"I's gittin' real feeble. De doctor say I got a bad heart. Sometimes I +jus' has to set on de curb an' res' myse'f a spell. I gits kinda +windless when I thinks 'bout all I been through.</p> + +<p>"My wife is been dead 'bout seventeen years an' my chillun is so +scattered dat I don't know where dey is. De folks I stays wid is +powerful good to me an' sees after me same as dey was my own. I reckon I +don't need nothin else.</p> + +<p>"Dis generation aint got much sense. Dey's tryin' to git somewheres too +fas'. None of 'em is sat'fied wid plain livin'. Dey wants too much.</p> + +<p>"Nobody needs more dan dey can use, nohow."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SuttonJane"></a> +<h3>JANE SUTTON<br> +Gulfport, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Jane Sutton, ex-slave, is 84 years old. She is 5 feet, 6 inches tall and +weighs 130 pounds. She is what the Negroes themselves call a +"brown-skin."</p> + +<p>"I was born in Simpson County, near old Westville, on a big farm what +b'long to Marse Jack Berry. I was 12 years old when de surrender come, +so my ole Mis' say. Her name was 'Mis Ailsey an' all us cullud folks +call her 'Ole Mi's. She an' Old Marster had twelve chillun: Marthy, +'Lizabeth, Flavilia, Mary, Jack, Bill, Denson, Pink, Tally, Thomas, +Albert, and Frank.</p> + +<p>"My pappy's name was Steve Hutchins. He b'long to de Hutchins what live +down near Silver Creek. He jus' come on Satu'd'y night an' us don' see +much of 'im. Us call him 'dat man.' Mammy tol' us to be more 'spectful +to 'im 'cause he was us daddy, but us aint care nothin' 'bout 'im. He +aint never brung us no candy or nothin'.</p> + +<p>"My mammy was name Lucy Berry. She always go by de white folks name what +she live wid. She aint never marry. She had fo' boys an' three girls. +Dey was name Delia, Sarah, Ella, Nathan, Isom, Anderson, an' Pleas. She +work in de fiel' an Old Marster say she's de only woman on de place what +could plow lak a man.</p> + +<p>"I 'members my gran'ma, too. Us always call her 'Granny.' She say dey +stole her back in Virginny an' brung 'er to Mississippi an' sol' her to +Marse Berry. Her name was Hannah. She was my mammy's Mammy. I don' +'member nothin' 'bout my pappy's folks 'cause I never seen none of' em.</p> + +<p>"Old Marster was a rich man for dat day. He had a sawmill, a cotton gin, +an' a gris' mill. Us always had plenty t'eat an' wear. Dey spun an' +weaved dey own cloth an' made us clo'es out-a it.</p> + +<p>"I can jus' see de white folk's house now. It was a big house, nice an' +clean, but twant painted. It had a row o' rooms 'cross dis way an' +a-nother row dat way wid a hall between. Dey had plenty o' rooms for all +dem boys an' gals. Some of 'em was 'bout grown. De quarters[FN: slave +quarters] was in de back o' de house. De cook's house was closes' to de +Big House, den nex' was Granny's house where us stayed. Den come a long +row way down to de back fence.</p> + +<p>"Dey didn' have no overseer or driver. Dey was 'nough o' dem boys to +look after de work an' Old Marster say he don' need no overseer to look +after his slaves.</p> + +<p>"My white folks was all Baptis' an' dey made us go to church, too. De +church was called de Strong River Church. Dey had big baptisin's. I +'members when I joined de church. De white folks preacher baptised us in +de creek what run from Marse Berry's mill pond. I was dressed up in a +white lowell slip. When us dress' up in Sund'y clo'es us had caliker[FN: +calico] dresses. Dey sho' was pretty. I 'members a dress now dat Old +Marster bought for my granny. It was white an' yaller, an' it was de +prettiest thing I ever seen.</p> + +<p>"Us white folks was good to us. Dey warnt always a-beatin' an' +a-knockin' us 'roun'. De truf is you couldn' fin' a scar on nary one o' +us. 'Course, some times dey whup us, but dey didn' gash us lak some o' +de old marsters did dey Niggers.</p> + +<p>"When Old Marster died I didn' know nothin' bout him bein' sick. He took +a cramp colic in de night an' was dead 'fore mornin'. I hear somebody +a-cryin' at de Big House an' Granny tol' us dat Old Marster done die in +de night. Dey had a big fun'al an' all de folks come. De men carried him +to de graveyard by de church. Dey didn' have no hearses dem days. Twant +far to de graveyard so dey jus' toted de coffin to whar dey buried 'im. +Dey put flowers in cups an' vases on de grave, so's dey wouldn' wilt.</p> + +<p>"Us was all sorry when Old Marster died, I cried 'cause I said, 'Now us +won' git no more candy.' He used to bring us candy whan he went to town. +Us'd be lookin' for 'im when he come home. He'd say, 'Whars all my +little Niggers?' Den us'd come a-runnin' an' he'd han' it to us out-a +his saddle bags. It was mos'ly good stick candy.</p> + +<p>"I 'members de paterollers. Whenever de cullud folks would slip off an' +have dey frolics dout gittin' a pass from Old Marster de paterollers +would come. Lots-a time dey'd come while us was a-dancin' an' a-havin' a +big time. Dem paterollers would swarm in de room lak a lot o' bees. Fore +anybody knowed it, dey'd begin grabbing at de mens. If dey didn' have +dey pass wid 'em dey took 'em down in de woods an' whup 'em for runnin' +off wid out asking dey white folks. Dey didn' bother de wimnins much. De +wimmins mos' always got away while dey was catchin' de mens.</p> + +<p>"Onct I slipped off wid another gal an' went to a party dout asking Old +Mis'. When dem Night Riders come dat night, de Niggers was a-runnin' an' +a-dodgin' an' a-jumpin' out-a winders lak dey was scairt to death. I +runs too, me an' dat other gal. I fell down an' tore my dress, but I +warnt studyin' dat dress. I knows dat dem white folks had dat strap an' +I's gittin' 'way fas' as I could.</p> + +<p>"When Miss 'Lizabeth got married to Mr. Ras Laird, dey had a big weddin' +an' all dey folks come to see 'em married. Den dey went to live in +Rankin County an' took me wid 'em. Old Marster had give me to Miss +'Lizabeth.</p> + +<p>"I 'members when de Yankees come to de house. Us heard dey was comin', +so us hid all de hams an' shoulders up in de lof' o' de Big House. Dey +didn' git much. Dey was so mad dey jus' tore up some of Old Mis' clo'es +what was in de wardrobe. Us was sho' scairt of 'em.</p> + +<p>"I 'members dey promise to give de cullud folks all kin' o' things. Dey +never give 'em nothin' dat I know's about. Us was jus' turnt loose to +scratch for us ownse'ves. Us was glad to stay on wid de white folks, +'cause dey was de bes' frien's us had. I don' know nobody what got a +thing 'cept what Old Marster an' Old Mis' give 'em.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I went back to 'Old Mis'. I walked all de way back from +Rankin County. It was a long way, but I wanted to see Old Mis' an' my +Mammy an' my brothers an' sisters.</p> + +<p>"When de surrender come by pappy come to git me. I didn' wan'-a go. I +tol' 'im I's gwine stay wid Old Mis'. So he goes an' gits de sheriff an' +takes me anyway. I runned away twict an' come back to Old Mis'. He +whupped me de firs' time, but de nex' time I hid from him an' he couldn' +catch me. He went back home an' 'lemme 'lone. Den I went wid my mammy to +live wid Marse Tally Berry. He was one of Old Marster's sons. Dey used +to come an' tell me dat dat old Nigger was gwine kill me if I didn' come +wid him. But I jus' stayed hid out till he went away.</p> + +<p>"I spec' all my white folks is dead now. I wish I could go back to 'em +now. Dey help me. Dey was good to us after de War was over. Dis one +would want me to live wid dem, den de other one would want me to live +wid dem. Sometimes I quit one an' go live wid de other one. All of 'em +sho' did treat me good. I's havin' a heap harder time now dan I ever had +in slav'ry times. I sho' is.</p> + +<p>"Dey raised de young folks better dem days. Dey learnt 'em to work. Dey +didn' min' work. Today dey don' care 'bout nothin' but havin' a good +time. Dey ain' studyin' 'bout no hereafter, neither.</p> + +<p>"De Relief give me a little somethin' t'eat an' wear one time, but dey +aint never give me no money. I's old an' needy, but I's trustin' de Lord +an' de good white folks to he'p me now. All de white folks I used to +work for has moved away from town now. I don' have nobody to look to but +my daughter. She looks after me de bes' she can. Dey is some neighbor +wimmins dat comes an' sets wid me sometimes.</p> + +<p>"I's gittin' deaf an' I aint got a tooth lef' in my head. I's too feeble +to he'p make a livin', but maybe I'll git dat Old Age Pension 'fore I +die."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMollie"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[MOLLIE WILLIAMS<br> +Terry, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<a name="img_WM"></a> + +<center><p> +<img src="images/mwilliams.jpg" width="250" height="416" +alt="Mollie Williams"></p> +</center> +<br> + +<p>Mollie Williams, who lives two miles west of Terry, Miss., tells her +story:</p> + +<p>"Iffen I lives' til nex' September 15, I'll be eighty fo'! I was born +'bout three miles frum Utica on de Newsome place. Me an' brudder Hamp +b'longed to Marse George Newsome. Marse George was named afte' George +Washington up in Virginny whar he come frum. Miss Margurite was our +mistiss. My mammy? Well, I'll have to tell you now 'bout her.</p> + +<p>"You see, Marse George come off down here frum Virginny lak young folks +venturin' 'bout, an' mar'ied Mis' Margurite an' wanted to start up +livin' right over thar near Utica whar I was born. But Marse George was +po', an' he sho' foun' out ye can't make no crop wid'out'n a start of +darkies, so he writ home to Virginny fer to git some darkies. All dey +sont him was fo' mens an' old Aunt Harriet fer to cook.</p> + +<p>"One day Marse George an' his Uncle, Mr. John Davenport—now thar was a +rich man fer ye, why, he had two carri'ge drivers—dey rid over to Grand +Gulf whar dey was a sellin' slabes offen de block an' Mr. John tol' +Marse George to pick hisself out a pair of darkies to mate so's he could +git hisself a start of darkies fer to chop his cotton an' like. So Marse +George pick out my pappy fust. My pappy come frum North Ca'lina. Den he +seen my mammy an' she was big an' strengthy an' he wanted her pow'ful +bad. But lak I tol' you, he didn' have 'nough money to buy 'em both, so +his Uncle John say he'd buy mammy an' den he would loan her over to +Marse George fer pappy. An' de fust chile would be Mr. John's, an' de +secon' Marse George's, an' likewise. Mammy was a Missourian name Marylin +Napier Davenpo't. An' pappy was name Martin Newsome.</p> + +<p>"Darkies libed in li'l old log houses wid dirt chimbleys. Dat is, de +rest of de darkies did. Dey kep' me up in de Big House, bein' mammyless +lak. Mos'ly I slep' in de trun'le bed wid Miss Mary Jane till I got so +bad dey had to mek a pallet on de flo' fer me. Dey was Mr. Bryant, Mr. +A.D., Miss Martha, Miss Ann, Miss Helen, Miss Mary Jane, an' Mr. George, +all b'longin' to Marse George an' Miss Margurite.</p> + +<p>"Mammy was a fiel' han'. She could plow an' wuk in de fiel's jes' lak a +man, an' my pappy, he done de same. Mammy, she hated house wuk—lak me. +I jes natu'lly loves to be out runnin' roun' in de fiel's an' 'bout. I +neber lak'd to do wuk roun' de house none t'all.</p> + +<p>"We wo' lowell clo'es an' brass toed brogans. Miss Margurite made our +dresses an' lak, an' afte' Aunt Harriet died, she done de cookin' too +fer all de slabes an' de fambly. She fix up dinner fer de fiel' han's, +an' I taken it to 'em. Marse George had old powder horn he blowed +mornin's far to git de darkies up 'fo day good, an' dey come in 'bout +sundown.</p> + +<p>"We growed corn an' taters an' cotton plentiful, an' we had gran' +orchids[FN: orchids] an' penders[FN: peanuts]. Den, sheeps an' hogs an' +cows an' lak.</p> + +<p>"Miss Margurite had a piany, a 'cordian, a flutena, an' a fiddle. She +could play a fiddle good as a man. Law, I heerd many as three fiddles +goin' in dat house many a time, an' I kin jes see her li'l old fair +han's now, playin' jes as fast as lightnin' a chune[FN: tune] 'bout</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Song]</b></p> + +<pre> +'My father he cried, my mother she cried, +I wasn' cut out fer de army. +O, Capt'in Gink, my hoss me think, +But feed his hoss on co'n an' beans +An s'port de gals by any means! +'Cause I'm a Capt'in in de army.' +</pre> + +<p>"All us chullun begged ter play dat an' we all sing an' dance—<u>great +goodness</u>!</p> + +<p>"One song I 'member mammy singin':</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Song]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Let me nigh, by my cry, +Give me Jesus. +You may have all dis world, +But give me Jesus.' +</pre> + +<p>"Singin' an' shoutin', she had 'ligion all right. She b'longed to Old +Farrett back in Missouri.</p> + +<p>"We didn' git sick much, but mammy made yeller top tea[FN: dog fennel] +fer chills an' fever an' give us. Den iffen it didn' do no good, Miss +Margurite called fer Dr. Hunt lak she done when her own chullun got +sick.</p> + +<p>"None of de darkies on dat place could read an' write. Guess Miss Helen +an' Miss Ann would'a learned me, but I was jes so bad an' didn' lak to +set still no longer'n I had to.</p> + +<p>"I seen plenty of darkies whupped. Marse George buckled my mammy down +an' whupped her 'cause she run off. Once when Marse George seen pappy +stealin' a bucket of 'lasses an' totin' it to a gal on 'nother place, he +whupped him but didn' stake him down. Pappy tol' him to whup him but not +to stake him—he'd stan' fer it wid'out de stakin'—so I 'member he +looked jes lak he was jumpin' a rope an' hollering', '<u>Pray +Marser</u>', ever time de strop hit 'im.</p> + +<p>"I heered 'bout some people whut nailed de darkies years[FN: ears] to a +tree an' beat' em but I neber seen none whupped dat way.</p> + +<p>"I neber got no whuppins frum Marse George 'cause he didn' whup de +chulluns none. Li'l darky chullun played 'long wid white chullun. Iffen +de old house is still thar I 'spec you kin fin' mud cakes up under de +house whut we made out'n eggs we stole frum de hen nests. Den we milked +jes anybody's cows we could ketch, an' churned it. We's all time in ter +some mischief.</p> + +<p>"Thar was plenty dancin' 'mong'st darkies on Marse George's place an' on +ones nearby. Dey danced reels an' lak in de moonlight:</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Songs]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Mamma's got de whoopin' cough, +Daddy's got de measles, +Dat's whar de money goes, +Pop goes de weasel.' + + +'Buffalo gals, can't you come out tonight, +Come out tonight, an' dance by de light of de moon?' + + +'Gennie, put de kettle on, +Sallie, boil de water strong, +Gennie, put de kittle on +An' le's have tea!' + + +'Run tell Coleman, +Run tell everbody +Dat de niggers is arisin'!' + + +'Run nigger run, de patterrollers ketch you— +Run nigger run, fer hits almos' day, +De nigger run; de nigger flew; de nigger los' +His big old shoe.' +</pre> + +<p>"When de War come, Marse George went to fight back in Virginny. Us all +thought de Yankees was some kin' of debils an' we was skeered to death +of 'em.</p> + +<p>"One day Miss Mary Jane, Helen, an' me was playin' an' we seen mens all +dressed in blue coats wid brass buttons on dey bosoms ridin' on big fine +hosses, drive right up to our po'ch an' say to Aunt Dalia whar she was +sweepin':</p> + +<p>"'Good morning, Madam, no men's about?'</p> + +<p>"When she tol' 'em wa'nt no mens 'bout, day ax fer de keys to de +smokehouse an' went out an' hap'ed deyse'ves an' loaded dey wagons. Den +dey went out in de pasture 'mongst de sheeps an' killed off some of dem. +Nex' dey went in de buggy house an' all together shuck down de carri'ge +so we neber could use hit no mo'. Yessum, dey done right smart of +mischief 'roun' thar.</p> + +<p>"Some of de darkies went off wid de Yankees. My brudder Howard did, an' +we ain't heerd tell of him since. I'll tell you 'bout it. You see, Mr. +Davenpo't owned him an' when he heard 'bout da Yankees comin' dis way, +he sont his white driver an' Howard in de carri'ge wid all his valuables +to de swamp to hide, an' while dey was thar de white driver, he went off +to sleep an' Howard was prowlin' 'roun' an' we all jes reckin he went on +off wid de Yankees.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Superstition]</b></p> + +<p>"You mean hoo doo? Dat's whut ma pappy done to my mammy. You see, dey +was allus fussin' 'bout fust one thing, den 'nother, an' mammy got mad +'caus'n pappy slipped her clo'es out'n her ches' an' taken over to de +other gals fer to dance in, an' when he brung' em back mammy would see +finger prints on' em whar he been turnin' 'em 'roun' an' she sho' be mad +an' fight him. She could lick him too caus'n she was bigger. One day +pappy come in an' say to mammy:</p> + +<p>"'Does you want to be bigger an' stronger dan whut you already is?' An' +mammy say she did. So nex' day he brung her a li'l bottle of somethin' +blood red wid somethin' looked like a gourd seed in de middle of it, an' +he tol' her to drink hit iffen she want to be real strong. Frum de fust +drink she fell off. Place of walkin' off, she jes stumbled an' got +wo'ser an' wo'ser till she plum los' her min'. Fer a long time, dey had +to tie her to a tree. Den afte' de War, she lef Mr. Davenpo't's an' jes +traveled 'bout over de country. I stayed on wid Miss Margurite he'pin' +her jes lak I'd been doin'. One day mammy come afte' me an' I run an' +hid under a pile of quilts an' laked to smothered to death waitin' fer +her to go on off.</p> + +<p>"Nex' time she come, she brung a written letter to Miss Margurite frum +de Free Man's Board an' taken me wid her. We jes went frum place to +place 'til I got mar'ied an' settled down fer myself. I had three +chullun, but ain't none livin' now."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilsonTom"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[TOM WILSON<br> +near New Zion Church, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<a name="img_WT"></a> + +<center><p> +<img src="images/twilson.jpg" width="252" height="412" +alt="Tom Wilson"></p> +</center> +<br> + +<p>"My name is Tom Wilson an' I'se eighty fo' years old. My mammy was name +Ca'line an' my pappy was Jeff Wilson. Us lived right out on de old Jim +Wilson place, right by New Zion Chu'ch. I lives thar now—owns me a plot +of groun' an' farms.</p> + +<p>"Well, us b'longed to Marse Jim an' Miss Nancy Wilson. I was born right +out thar, but my mammy was brung down frum Ten'see. She come by heir to +Marse Jim but 'fo that her was sol' for ten hun'erd dollars. My mammy +was a big sportly woman an' brung a lot er money an' my pappy, he brung +nine hun'erd. Marse Jim bought him offen de block, but I don't know jes +whar frum. I jes 'members 'bout hearin' him tell 'bout bein' sol'.</p> + +<p>"Bofe of dem was fiel' han's. Law, mammy could plow jes lak a man all +day long; den milk twen'y head er cows afte' she quit de fiel' at night.</p> + +<p>"De Big House was made out'n logs an' reckin hit had 'bout seben er +eight rooms in hit, an' de kitchen sot a piece frum de mainest house. +Thar was one brick chimbly an' one dirt one to hit, an' a great big wide +po'ch 'cross de front of de house. I 'member Mis Nancy an' white folks +'ud set out thar of an evenin' an' mek us li'l cullud chullun dance an' +sing an' cut capers fer to 'muse 'em. Den dey had a trough, built 'bout +lak a pig trough, an' dey would mek de cook bake a gre't big slab er +co'n bread an' put hit in de trough an' po' milk or lasses over hit, an' +tu'n us li'l cullud chullun loose on hit. An' I'se tell'n y' as much of +hit went in our hair an' eyes an' years[FN: ears] as went in our +moufs[FN: mouths].</p> + +<p>"I reckin thar was' bout two er three hun'erd acres in Marse Jim's +place. Us raised cotton, taters, an' hogs. No'm, slaves didn' have no +plots er dey own. Marse Jim give us our rashins' every week. Well, mos' +er de cullud people 'ud cook dey victuals over de fire place in dey own +houses. Us sho' did have 'possum an' taters.</p> + +<p>"My mammy wuked in de loom room at night by light of a pine knot. In de +Big House dey had taller[FN: tallow] can'les 'cause I 'member my mammy +moulded 'em. No'm, de spinnin' wheels was kep' in de kitchen of de Big +House. Hit had a dirt flo'. Us jes wo' li'l old suits made out'n lowell +cloth whut mammy wove on de loom. I doan 'member wearin' no shoes.</p> + +<p>"I jes played roun' 'bout de place an' he'ped wid de cleanin' up an' +dish washin'. Kinder house boy, I was.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Medicine]</b></p> + +<p>"When us got sick, mammy made us pills out'n herbs. She taken May apple +roots an' boiled hit down to a syrup; den she let dat, dry out an' +rolled hit inter pills. Day sho' was fin' fo' mos' anything we might +have.</p> + +<p>"Chris'mus was a mighty glad time fo' us. Yessum, us got extra rashins' +an' had time off ter play an' kick our heels. Gen'ly[FN: generally] had +'bout a week off. Tell you what Marse Jim 'ud do when Chris'mus come +'roun'. He'd sen' one of da cullud mans out to git a log an' say, 'Now +long as dis log burn, y'all kin have off'n wuk'. Co'se us'd hunt de +bigges' gum log an' den soak hit in de stream so hit wud burn on a long +time. Dey'd put hit on back er de fire an' hit wud las' mos' a week.</p> + +<p>"Couldn' none of us read or write, an' us wa'nt neber learned 'til afte' +us was set free. Den some went to li'l schools fer da cullud people.</p> + +<p>"I sho' has seen m' mammy an' lots mo' git whuppins. Marse Jim, he had a +strop er leather stuck in de slit end of a staff, an' he sho' did whup +'em layed 'cross a barrel. Once' m' pappy run away an' Marse Jim got de +blood houn's afte' him, an' catched him up 'fo he could git fur, an' dat +day he lay him 'cross de barrel, an' whupped him frum sun up til sun +down. When he quit off, m' pappy couldn' talk no more'n a whisper +sca'cely.</p> + +<p>"Pattyrollers, I heard of 'em allright 'cause dey sho' would git you +iffen y' went abroad widout a pass frum Marse Jim.</p> + +<p>"One day us li'l cullud chullun was frollicin' out in de front yard an' +Mis' Nancy an' some mo' was settin' on de po'ch an' all of a sudden I +see somebuddy comin' down de road an' I says 'Look, whut's dat?'</p> + +<p>"An' white folks run to de woods an' hid out caze dey seen hit was +Calv'ry 'bout a mile long comin' down de road. Sojer rid right up to me +an' stuck his bay'net at me an' says, 'Boy, whar de tater house?' An' I +sho' did show him whar 'twas. Dem sojers sho' was starved. Dey take +thirty tater punks, fifteen er twenty chickens, and five hams. Den dey +went in de smoke house an' grabbed off five er ten poun's er sausage, +middlln's, and sides. Dey take 'nough grub to load three wagons an' take +hit over to New Zion Church 'bout er mile frum us. An' right thar dey +camped that night.</p> + +<p>"That was afte' de Siege er Vicksburg. Marse Jim didn' keer, but he sent +us ober nex' mo'nin' to git de leavin's, an' thar was a wagon load er +jes de leavin's.</p> + +<p>"I 'members when us was sot free allright. 'Twas in de middle of da +winter y' know, an' Marse Jim was so mad 'bout hit he went off down to a +li'l stream or water an' broke de ice an' jumped in, an' he died 'bout +two weeks afte' of de pewmonia[FN: pneumonia].</p> + +<p>"I was glad to git m' freedom 'cause I got out'n frum under dem +whuppins.</p> + +<p>"Afte' dat us bought lan' frum de Wilsons whut was lef' an' I been a +fa'min' thar ever since."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungClaraC"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +CLARA C. YOUNG<br> +Monroe County, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Clara G. Young, ex-slave, Monroe County, is approximately 95 years old, +about five feet two inches tall, and weighs 105 pounds. She is a frail, +dark skinned Negro, with the typical broad nose and the large mouth of +the southern Negro. Her physical condition is especially good for a +woman of her age. She is very talkative at times, but her memory appears +to come and go, so that she has to be prompted at intervals in her +story-telling by her daughter or granddaughter, with whom she lives. +Familiarly known as "Aunt Classie," she is very proud of her age and +more especially of her long line of descendants.</p> + +<p>"Law, Miss, I doan know when I was born, but I do know dat I'se +sebenteen years old when I was fust sol'. Dey put me an' my brudder up +on de auction block at de same time. He brung $1400 but I dis'members +zactly what dey paid far me. Wa'nt dat much, tho', fer big strong mans +brung mo' dan wimmens an' gals."</p> + +<p>Long pauses accentuated the quavery voice of the old Negro, whose head +resembled a nappy patch of cotton, and who was so enthusiastic over +reminiscing about the days when she was young and carefree.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Huntsville, Alabamy, an' my mammy an' pappy was name +Silby an' Sharper Conley. Dey tuk de las' name frum de old marster dat +owned 'em. I lived dar wid 'em 'til de chullun drew dey parts an' us was +'vided out. While I was wid old marster, he let Miss Rachel—dat was his +wife—have me fer de house. She larned me how to cook an' wait on de +table, an' I declar', she call me her ver' smartest gal! Sometimes, +tho', I wouldn' come right quick lak when she ring de bell fer me, an' +she'd start ringin' it harder an' harder. I knowed den she was mad. When +I'd get dar, she'd fuss at me an' tu'n my dress up an' whup me—not hard +'cause she wa'nt so strong—<u>but I'd holler some</u>!</p> + +<p>"Dey had a nigger woman to teach all de house darkies how to read an' +write an' I larned how to sign my name an' got as fur as b-a-k-e-r in de +Blue Back Speller.</p> + +<p>"Marse Conley an' Miss Rachel had fo' chullun, Miss Mary, Miss Alice, +Miss Willie, an' Marse Andrew, an' when de time come, dey give me to +Marse Andrew. He car'ied me an' de rest out to Texas whar he thought he +would go an' git rich. We neber stayed long, tho', fer lots of de +niggers runned 'way to de Free State an' Marse Andrew didn' lak dat.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Pre-War Days]</b></p> + +<p>"It was when he brought us back to Huntsville dat I was sol'. All de +white folks was a gittin' scared dey was gwineter lose dey slaves an' +dere was a pow'ful lot er nigger sellin' goin' on den. Marse Ewing +bought me frum him an' car'ied me to his plantation near Aberdeen, +Mississippi. Den I started to workin' in de fiel' wid de rest of de +hands. De oberseer dat we had was right mean to us when we didn' work +our rows as fas' as de others, an' sometime he whup us, wimmen an' all. +When he did dat some of us most nigh allus tell de marster an' he would +jump on de oberseer an' tell him to lay off de wimmen an' chullun. Dey +was allus sort of thoughtful of us an' we loved old marster.</p> + +<p>"I heerd tell one time, tho', of de hired man (he was a nigger) an' de +oberseer whuppin' one of my cousins 'til she bled; she was jes' +sebenteen years old an' was in de fambly way fer de fust time, an' +couldn' work as hard as de rest. Nex' mawnin' afte' dat she died. De +hired man tol' de rest if dey said anything 'bout it to de marster, he'd +beat dem to death, too, so ever'body kep' quiet an' de marster neber +knowed.</p> + +<p>"We worked hard in de fiel' all day, but when dark come we would all go +to de Quarters an' afte' supper we would set 'roun' an' sing an' talk. +Mos' of de time we had good food to eat 'cause mos' of us had our +gardens, an' de Quarters cook would fix what we wanted if we brung it to +her. Durin' de last years 'fo de surrender, we didn' have much to eat +tho'; an' made out de best we could.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Religion]</b></p> + +<p>"De mos' fun we had was at our meetin's. We had dem mos' ever' Sunday +an' dey lasted way into de night. De preacher I laked de bes' was name +Mathew Ewing. He was a comely nigger, black as night, an' he sho' could +read out of his han'. He neber larned no real readin' an' writin' but he +sho' knowed his Bible an' would hol' his han' out an' mek lak he was +readin' an' preach de purtiest preachin' you ever heered. De meetin's +last frum early in de mawnin' 'til late at night. When dark come, de men +folks would hang up a wash pot, bottom up'ards, in de little brush +church-house us had, so's it would catch de noise an' de oberseer +wouldn' hear us singin' an' shoutin'. Dey didn' min' us meetin' in de +day time, but dey thought iffen we stayed up ha'f de night we wouldn' +work so hard de nex' day—an' dat was de truf.</p> + +<p>"You should'a seen some of de niggers get 'ligion. De best way was to +carry 'em to de cemetery an' let 'em stand ober a grave. Dey would start +singin' an' shoutin' 'bout sein' fire an' brimstone; den dey would sing +some mo' an' look plum sanctified.</p> + +<p>"When us had our big meetin's, dere would allus be some darkies frum de +plantations aroun' to come. Dey would have to slip off 'cause dey +marsters was afraid dey would git hitched up wid some other black boy er +gal on de other plantation an' den dey would either have to buy er sell +a nigger 'fo you could git any work out of him.</p> + +<p>"We neber knowed much bout de War, 'cept dat we didn' have as much to +eat er wear, an' de white men folks was all gone. Den, too, Old Miss +cried a lot of de time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Reconstruction]</b></p> + +<p>"De Yankees come 'roun' afte' de War an' tol' us we's frea an' we +shouted an' sang, an' had a big celebration fer a few days. Den we got +to wonderin' 'bout what good it did us. It didn' feel no diffrunt; we +all loved our marster an' missus an' stayed on wid 'em jes' lak nothin' +had happened. De Yankees tried to git some of de men to vote, too, but +not many did 'cause dey was scared of de Ku Kluxers. Dey would come at +night all dressed up lak ghosts an' scare us all. We didn' lak de +Yankees anyway. Dey wa'nt good to us; when dey lef' we would allus sing +dat leetle song what go lak dis:</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Song]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Old Mister Yankee, think he is so grand, +Wid his blue coat tail a draggin' on de ground!' +</pre> + +<p>"I stayed on wid Old Marster afte' de surrender, wid de res', 'til I met +Joshua. Joshua Young was his name an' he b'longed to de Youngs whut +lived out at Waverly. I moved out dar wid him afte' we mar'ied. We didn' +have no big weddin' 'cause dere wa'nt much money den. We had a preacher +tho', an' den went along jes' lak we had allus been mar'ied.</p> + +<p>"Josh, he's been daid fer a long time now but we had a good life out at +Waverly an' many a night stood outside de parlor do' an' watch de white +folks at dey big dances an' parties. De folks was pow'ful nice to us an' +we raised a passel er chullun out dar. All of 'em 'ceptin' three be daid +now. George is de oldes' of those lef'. He's a bricklayer, carpenter, +preacher, an' mos anything else he 'cides to call hisse'f. He's got 19 +or 20 chullun, I dis'members which. Edith ain't got so many. She live up +North. I lives wid my other darter an' her gal. I named her afte' my +sisters. Her name is Anna Luvenia Hulda Larissa Jane Bell Young +McMillan. Dere may be more'n dat now, but anyways dere is five +generations livin'.</p> + +<p>"What I think 'bout slav'ry? Well, leetle Miss, I tell you, I wish it +was back. Us was a lot better off in dem days dan we is now. If dem +Yankees had lef us 'lone we'd been a lot happier. We wouldn' been on +'lief an' old age pension fer de las' three years. An' Janie May, here, +I b'lieve, sure as goodness, would'a been de Missus' very smartes' gal, +an' would'a stayed wid her in de Big House lak I did."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Note:</b> This autobiography is exactly as related by the Negro to the field +worker with exception of a few changes in spelling. Phraseology is the +same.</p> + +<p>B.Y.</p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 12055 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/12055-h/images/mwilliams.jpg b/12055-h/images/mwilliams.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..cb8adf8 --- /dev/null +++ b/12055-h/images/mwilliams.jpg diff --git a/12055-h/images/twilson.jpg b/12055-h/images/twilson.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2a23c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/12055-h/images/twilson.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves + Mississippi Narratives + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: April 15, 2004 [EBook #12055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES *** + + + + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced +from images provided by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<p>[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note</p> +<p>[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note</p> +<p>[FN: ***] = Footnote</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;"><br><br> + + + +<h1>SLAVE NARRATIVES</h1> +<br> + +<h2><i>A Folk History of Slavery in the United States<br> +From Interviews with Former Slaves</i></h2> +<br> + + +<h4>TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY<br> +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT<br> +1936-1938<br> +ASSEMBLED BY<br> +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT<br> +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION<br> +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA<br> +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</h4> +<br> + +<p><i>Illustrated with Photographs</i></p> +<br> + +<p>WASHINGTON 1941</p> +<br><br><br> + + +<h2>VOLUME IX</h2> + +<h2>MISSISSIPPI NARRATIVES</h2> + + +<h3>Prepared by<br> +the Federal Writers' Project of<br> +the Works Progress Administration<br> +for the State of Mississippi</h3> +<br><br><br> + +<h2>INFORMANTS</h2> + +<a href="#AllenJim">Allen, Jim</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#BakerAnna">Baker, Anna</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#CameronJohn">Cameron, John</a><br> +<a href="#ClarkGus">Clark, Gus</a><br> +<a href="#CorneliusJames">Cornelius, James</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#DavenportCharlie">Davenport, Charlie</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#EmanuelGabe">Emanuel, Gabe</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#FranksDora">Franks, Dora</a><br> +<a href="#FranksPet">Franks, Pet</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#HenryNettie">Henry, Nettie</a><br> +<a href="#HodgesFannie">Hodges, Fanny Smith</a><br> +<a href="#HollidayWayne">Holliday, Wayne</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#JohnsonPrince">Johnson, Prince</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#KennedyHamp">Kennedy, Hamp</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#LucasJames">Lucas, James</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#McAllumSam">McAllum, Sam</a><br> +<a href="#MosesCharlie">Moses, Charlie</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#NecaiseHenri">Necaise, Henri</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#SingletonJames">Singleton, Rev. James</a><br> +<a href="#SmithBerry">Smith, Berry</a><br> +<a href="#SnowSusan">Snow, Susan</a><br> +<a href="#StierIsaac">Stier, Isaac</a><br> +<a href="#SuttonJane">Sutton, Jane</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#WilliamsMollie">Williams, Mollie</a><br> +<a href="#WilsonTom">Wilson, Tom</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#YoungClaraC">Young, Clara C.</a><br> +<br><br> + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<a href="#img_WM">Mollie Williams</a><br> +<br> +<a href="#img_WT">Tom Wilson</a><br> +<br><br> + +<p>[TR: Footnotes have been moved to appear within the text.]<br> +[TR: Informant names and locations that appear in brackets have been drawn +from interviews.]</p> + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="AllenJim"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +Jim Allen, Clay Co.<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Ed Joiner<br> +<br> +[JIM ALLEN<br> +West Point, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Jim Allen, West Point, age 87, lives in a shack furnished by the city. +With him lives his second wife, a much older woman. Both he and his wife +have a reputation for being "queer" and do not welcome outside visitors. +However, he readily gave an interview and seemed most willing to relate +the story of his life.</p> + +<p>"Yas, ma'm, I 'members lots about slav'ry time, 'cause I was old 'nough.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Russell County, Alabamy, an' can tell you 'bout my own +mammy an' pappy an' sisters an' brudders.</p> + +<p>"Mammy's name was Darkis an' her Marster was John Bussey, a reg'lar old +drunkard, an' my pappy's name was John Robertson an' b'longed to Dr. +Robertson, a big farmer on Tombigbee river, five miles east of Columbus. +De doctor hisself lived in Columbus.</p> + +<p>"My sister Harriett and brudder John was fine fiel' hands an' Marster +kep' 'em in de fiel' most of de time, tryin' to dodge other white folks.</p> + +<p>"Den dere was Sister Vice an' brudder George. Befo' I could 'member +much, I 'members Lee King had a saloon close to Bob Allen's store in +Russell County, Alabama, and Marse John Bussey drunk my mammy up. I +means by dat, Lee King tuk her an' my brudder George fer a whiskey debt. +Yes, old Marster drinked dem up. Den dey was car'ied to Florida by Sam +Oneal, an' George was jes a baby. You know, de white folks wouldn't +often sep'rate de mammy an' baby. I ain't seen' em since.</p> + +<p>"Did I work? Yes ma'm, me an' a girl worked in de fiel', carryin' one +row; <u>you</u> know, it tuk two chullun to mek one han'.</p> + +<p>"Did we have good eatins? Yes ma'm, old Marster fed me so good, fer I +was his pet. He never 'lowed no one to pester me neither. Now dis +Marster was Bob Allen who had tuk me for a whiskey debt, too. Marse +Bussey couldn't pay, an' so Marse Allen tuk me, a little boy, out'n de +yard whar I was playin' marbles. De law 'lowed de fust thing de man saw, +he could take.</p> + +<p>"I served Marse Bob Allen 'til Gen'al Grant come 'long and had me an' +some others to follow him to Miss'sippi. We was in de woods hidin' de +mules an' a fine mare. Dis was after Emanc'pation, an' Gen'al Grant was +comin' to Miss'sippi to tell de niggers dey was free.</p> + +<p>"As I done tol' you, I was Marse Allen's pet nigger boy. I was called a +stray. I slep' on de flo' by old Miss an' Marse Bob. I could'a slep' on +de trun'le bed, but it was so easy jes to roll over an' blow dem ashes +an' mek dat fire burn.</p> + +<p>"Ole Miss was so good, I'd do anything fer her. She was so good an' +weighed' round 200 poun's. She was Marse Bob's secon' wife. Nobody +'posed on me, No, Sir! I car'ied water to Marse Bob's sto' close by an' +he would allus give me candy by de double han'full, an' as many juice +harps as I wanted. De bes' thing I ever did eat was dat candy. Marster +was good to his only stray nigger.</p> + +<p>"Slave niggers didn't fare wid no gardens 'cept de big garden up at de +Big House, when fiel' han's was called to wuk out hers (old Miss). All +de niggers had a sight of good things to eat from dat garden an' smoke +house.</p> + +<p>"I kin see old Lady Sally now, cookin' for us niggers, an' Ruth cooked +in de white folk's kitchen. Ruth an' old Man Pleas' an' old Lady Susan +was give to Marse Bob when he mar'ied an' come to Sandford, Alabamy.</p> + +<p>"No, dere wa'nt no jails, but a guard house. When niggers did wrong, dey +was oft'n sent dere, but mos' allus dey was jes whupped when too lazy to +wuk, an' when dey would steal.</p> + +<p>"Our clo'es was all wove and made on de plan'ation. Our ever'day ones, +we called 'hick'ry strips.' We had a' plen'y er good uns. We was fitted +out an' out each season, an' had two pairs of shoes, an' all de snuff +an' 'bacco we wanted every month.</p> + +<p>"No, not any weddin's. It was kinder dis way. Dere was a good nigger man +an' a good nigger woman, an' the Marster would say, 'I knows you both +good niggers an' I wants you to be man an' wife dis year an' raise +little niggers; den I won't have to buy' em.'</p> + +<p>"Marse Bob lived in a big white house wid six rooms. He had a cou't +house an' a block whar he hired out niggers, jes like mules an' cows.</p> + +<p>"How many slaves did us have? Les' see. Dere was old Lady Sally an' her +six chullun an' old Jake, her husban', de ox driver, fer de boss. Den +dere was old Starlin', Rose, his wife an' fo' chullun. Some of dem was +mixed blood by de oberseer. I sees 'em right now. I knowed de oberseer +was nothin' but po' white trash, jes a tramp. Den dere was me an' +Katherin. Old Lady Sally cooked for de oberseers, seven miles 'way frum +de Big House.</p> + +<p>"Ever'body was woke up at fo' o'clock by a bugle blowed mos'ly by a +nigger, an' was at dey work by sun-up. Den dey quits at sunset. I sho' +seed bad niggers whupped as many times as dere is leaves on dat groun'. +Not Marse Bob's niggers, but our neighbors. We was called 'free,' 'cause +Marse Bob treated us so good. The whuppin' was done by de oberseer or +driver, who would say as he put de whup to de back, '<u>Pray sir, pray +sir</u>!'</p> + +<p>"I seed slaves sol' oft'ener dan you got fingers an' toes. You know I +tol' you dere was a sellin' block close to our sto'. Den plen'y niggers +had to be chained to a tree or post 'cause he would run 'way an' wouldn' +wuk.</p> + +<p>"Dey would track de runways wid dogs an' sometimes a white scal'wag or +slacker wud be kotched dodgin' duty. I seed as many deserters as I see +corn stalks ober in dat fiel'. Dey would hide out in day time an' steal +at night.</p> + +<p>"No'm I didn' learn to read an' write but my folks teached me to be +honest an' min' Old Miss an' Granny. Dey didn' want us to learn how to +go to de free country.</p> + +<p>"We had a neighborhood chu'ch an bofe black an' white went to it. Dere +was a white preacher an' sometimes a nigger preacher would sit in de +pulpit wid him. De slaves set on one side of de aisle an' white folks on +de other. I allus liked preacher Williams Odem, an' his brudder Daniel, +de 'Slidin' Elder'.[FN: back slider] Dey come frum Ohio. Marse Bob Allen +was head steward. I' members lots of my fav'rite songs. Some of dem was, +<u>Am I born to Die</u>, <u>Alas and Did my Savior Bleed</u>, an' +<u>Must I to de Judgment be Brought</u>. The preacher would say 'Pull +down de line and let de spirit be a witnes, workin' fer faith in de +future frum on high.'</p> + +<p>"I seed de patyrollers every week. If de niggers didn' get a pass in +han' right frum one plan'ation to 'nother, dem patyrollers would git +you. Dey would be six an' twelve in a drove, an' day would git you if +you didn' have dat piece of paper. No sun could go down on a pass. Dere +was no trouble twixt niggers den.</p> + +<p>"We lay down an' res' at night in de week time. Niggers in slav'ry time +riz up in de Quarters, you could hear 'em for miles. Den da cornshucking +tuk place. Den we would have singin'. When one foun' a red ear of corn, +dey would take a drink of whiskey frum de jug an' cup. We'd get through' +bout ten o'clock. De men did'n care if dey worked all night, fer we had +the 'Heav'nly Banners'[FN: women and whiskey] by us[HW:?].</p> + +<p>"Sometimes we worked on Sat'day a'ternoon, owin' to de crops; but women +all knocked off on Sat'day a'ternoon. On Sat'day night, we mos'ly had +fun, playin' an drinking whiskey an' beer—no time to fool 'roun' in de +week time.</p> + +<p>"Some went to chu'ch an' some went fishin' on Sunday. On Chris'mas we +had a time—all kinds eatin'—wimmen got new dresses—men tobacco—had +stuff to las' 'til Summer. Niggers had good times in mos' ways in +slav'ry time. July 4th, we would wash up an' have a good time. We +hallowed dat day wid de white folks. Dere was a barbecue; big table set +down in bottoms. Dere was niggers strollin' 'roun' like ants. We was +havin' a time now. White folks too. When a slave died, dere was a to-do +over dat, hollerin' an' singin'. More fuss dan a little—'Well, sich a +one has passed out an we gwine to de grave to 'tend de fun'ral; we will +talk about Sister Sallie.' De niggers would be jumpin' as high as a cow +er mule.</p> + +<p>"A song we used to sing was"</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Sang]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Come on Chariot an' Take Her Home, Take Her Home, +Here Come Chariot, les' ride, +Come on les' ride, Come on les' ride.' +</pre> + +<p>"Yessum we believed ha'nts would be at de grave yard. I didn' pay no' +tention to dem tho', for I know de evil spirit is dere. Iffen you don't +believe it, let one of 'em slap you. I ain't seed one, but I'se heard +'em. I seed someone, dey said was a ghos', but it got 'way quick.</p> + +<p>"When we got sick de doctor come at once, and Mistiss was right dere to +see we was cared fer. A doctor lived on our place. If you grunt he was +right dere. We had castor oil an' pills an' turpentine an' quinine when +needful, an' herbs was used. I can fin' dat stuff now what we used when +I was a boy.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Superstition]</b></p> + +<p>"Some of us wore brass rings on our fingers to keep off croup. Really +good—<u>good now</u>. See mine?</p> + +<p>"Yessum I knows all 'bout when Yankees come. Dey got us out'er de swamp. +I was layin' down by a white oak tree 'sleep, an' when I woke up an' +looked up an' saw nothin' but blue, blue, I said, 'Yonder is my Boss's +fine male hoss, Alfred. He 'tended dat horse hisself.' He took it to +heart, an' he didn' live long afte' de Blue Coats took Alfred.</p> + +<p>"Peace was declared to us fust in January in Alabamy, but not in +Miss'sippi 'til Grant come back, May 8th.</p> + +<p>"I ain't seen my boss since dem Yankees took me 'way. I was seven miles +down in de swamp when I was tuk. I wouldn' of tol' him goodbye. I jes +wouldn' of lef' him. No sir, I couldn' have lef' my good boss. He tol' +me dem Yankees was comin' to take me off. I never wanted to see him +'cause I would have went back 'cause he pertected me an' loved me.</p> + +<p>"Like dis week, I lef' de crowd. One day, Cap'in Bob McDaniel came by, +an' asked me if I wanted to mek fires an' wuk 'round de house. I said, +'I'd like to see de town whar you want me to go, an' den I come to West +Point. It wa'nt nothin' but cotton rows—lot of old shabby shanties, +with jes one brick sto', an' it b'longed to Ben Robertson, an' I +hope[FN: helped] build all de sto'es in West Point since den.</p> + +<p>"I seed de KuKlux. We would be workin'. Dem people would be in de fiel', +an' must get home 'fo dark an' shet de door. Dey wo' three cornered +white hats with de eyes way up high. Dey skeered de breeches off'n me. +First ones I got tangled up wid was right down here by de cemetery. Dey +just wanted to scare you. Night riders was de same thing. I was one of +de fellers what broke 'em up.</p> + +<p>"Old man Toleson was de head leader of de Negroes. Tryin' to get Negroes +to go 'gainst our white people. I spec' he was a two faced Yankee or +carpetbagger.</p> + +<p>"We had clubs all 'round West Point. Cap'in Shattuck out about Palo Alto +said to us niggers one day, 'Stop your foolishness—go live among your +white folks an' behave. Have sense an' be good citizens.' His advice was +good an' we soon broke up our clubs.</p> + +<p>"I ain't been to no school 'cept Sunday School since Surrender. A good +white man I worked with taught me 'nough to spell 'comprestibility' and +'compastibility.' I had good 'membrance an' I could have learned what +white folks taught me, an' dey sees dey manners in me.</p> + +<p>"I mar'ied when I was turnin' 19, an' my wife, 15. I mar'ied at big +Methodist Chu'ch in Needmore. Same old chu'ch is dere now. I hope build +it in 1865. Aunt Emaline Robertson an' Vincent Petty an' Van McCanley +started a school in de northeast part of town two years afte' de War.</p> + +<p>"Emaline was Mr. Ben Robertson's cook, an' her darter, Callie, was his +housekeeper, an' George an' Walter was mechanics. George became a school +teacher.</p> + +<p>"Abraham Lincoln worked by 'pinions of de Bible. He got his meanin's +from de Bible. 'Every man should live under his own vine and fig tree.' +Dis was Abraham's commandments. Dis is where Lincoln started, 'no one +should work for another.'</p> + +<p>"Jefferson Davis wanted po' man to work for rich man. He was wrong in +one 'pinion, an' right in t'other. He tried to take care of his Nation. +In one instance, Lincoln was destroying us.</p> + +<p>"I j'ined the church to do better an' to be with Christians an' serve +Christ. Dis I learned by 'sociation an' harmonious livin' with black an' +white, old an' young, an' to give justice to all.</p> + +<p>"Be fust work I did after de War was for Mr. Bob McDaniel who lived near +Waverly on de Tombigbee River. Yes ma'am, I knowed de Lees, an' de +Joiners, but on de river den an' long afte', an' worked for 'em lots in +Clay County."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="BakerAnna"></a> +<h3>Anna Baker, Ex-slave, Monroe County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +ANNA BAKER<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Anna Baker, 80-year old ex-slave, is tall and well built. She is what +the Negroes term a "high brown." Her high forehead and prominent cheek +bones indicate that there is a strain of other than the pure African in +her blood. She is in fair health.</p> + +<p>"Lemme see how old I is. Well, I tells you jus' lak I tol' dat Home Loan +man what was here las' week. I 'members a pow'ful lot 'bout slavery +times an' 'bout 'fore surrender. I know I was a right smart size den, +so's 'cording to dat I mus' be 'roun' 'bout eighty year old. I aint sho' +'bout dat an' I don't want to tell no untruth. I know I was right smart +size 'fore de surrender, as I was a-sayin', 'cause I 'members Marster +comin' down de road past de house. When I'd see 'im 'way off I'd run to +de gate an' start singin' dis song to 'im:</p> + +<pre> +'Here come de marster, root toot too! +Here come Marster, comin' my way! +Howdy, Marster, howdy do! +What you gwine a-bring from town today?' +</pre> + +<p>Dat would mos' nigh tickle him to death an' he'd say, 'Loosahna (dat was +his pet name for me) what you want today? I'd say, 'Bring me some +goobers, or a doll, or some stick candy, or anything. An' you can bet +yo' bottom doller he'd always bring me somp'n'.</p> + +<p>"One reason Marse Morgan thought so much o' me, dey say I was a right +peart young'n' an' caught on to anything pretty quick. Marster would +tell me, 'Loosanna, if you keep yo' ears open an' tell me what de +darkies talk 'bout, dey'll be somp'n' good in it for you.' (He meant for +me to listen when dey'd talk 'bout runnin' off an' such.) I'd stay +'roun' de old folks an' make lak I was a-playin'. All de time I'd be +a-listenin'. Den I'd go an' tell Marster what I hear'd. But all de time +I mus' a-had a right smart mind, 'cause I'd play 'roun' de white folks +an' hear what dey'd say an' den go tell de Niggers.—Don't guess de +marster ever thought 'bout me doin' dat.</p> + +<p>"I was born an' bred 'bout seven miles from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I was +de baby of de fam'ly. De house was on de right han' side o' de road to +town. I had four sisters an' one brother dat I knows of. Dey was named +Classie, Jennie, Florence, Allie, an' George. My name was Joanna, but +dey done drap de Jo part a long time ago.</p> + +<p>"I don't recollec' what my ma's mammy an' pappy was named, but I know +dat her pappy was a full blooded Injun. (I guess dat is where I gits my +brown color.) Her mammy was a full blooded African though, a great big +woman.</p> + +<p>"I recollec' a tale ray mammy tol' me 'bout my gran'pa. When he took up +wid my gran'mammy de white man what owned her say, 'If you want to stay +wid her I'll give you a home if you'll work for me lak de Niggers do.' +He 'greed, 'cause he thought a heap o' his Black Woman. (Dat's what he +called her.) Ever'thing was all right 'til one o' dem uppity overseers +tried to act smart. He say he gwine a-beat him. My gran'pappy went home +dat night an' barred de door. When de overseer an' some o' his frien's +come after him, he say he aint gwine a-open dat door. Dey say if he +don't dey gwine a-break it in. He tell' em to go 'head.</p> + +<p>"Whilst dey was a-breakin' in he filled a shovel full o' red hot coals +an' when dey come in he th'owed it at 'em. Den whilst dey was +a-hollerin' he run away. He aint never been seen again to dis good day. +I'se hear'd since den dat white folks learnt dat if dey started to whip +a Injun dey'd better kill him right den or else he might git dem.</p> + +<p>"My mammy's name was Harriet Clemens. When I was too little to know +anything 'bout it she run off an' lef' us. I don't 'member much 'bout +her 'fore she run off, I reckon I was mos' too little.</p> + +<p>"She tol' me when she come after us, after de war was over, all 'bout +why she had to run away: It was on 'count of de Nigger overseers. (Dey +had Niggers over de hoers an' white mens over de plow han's.) Dey kep' +a-tryin' to mess 'roun' wid her an' she wouldn' have nothin' to do wid +'em. One time while she was in de fiel' de overseer asked her to go over +to de woods wid him an' she said, 'All right, I'll go find a nice place +an' wait.' She jus' kep'a-goin. She swum de river an' run away. She +slipped back onct or twict at night to see us, but dat was all. She +hired out to some folks dat warnt rich' nough to have no' slaves o' dey +own. Dey was good to her, too. (She never lacked for work to do.)</p> + +<p>"When my ma went off a old woman called Aunt Emmaline kep' me. (She kep' +all de orphunt chillun an' dem who's mammas had been sent off to de +breedin' quarters. When dem women had chillun dey brung 'em an' let +somebody lak Aunt Emmaline raise em.) She was sho' mean to me. I think +it was 'cause de marster laked me an' was always a-pettin' me. She was +jealous.</p> + +<p>"She was always a-tryin' to whip me for somethin' or nother. One time +she hit me wid a iron miggin. (You uses it in churnin'.) It made a bad +place on my head. She done it 'cause I let some meal dat she was +parchin' burn up. After she done it she got sort a scared an' doctored +me up. She put soot on de cut to make it stop bleedin'. Nex' day she +made me promise to tell de marster dat I hurt my head when I fell out o' +de door dat night he whip Uncle Sim for stealin' a hog. Now I was asleep +dat night, but when he asked me I said, 'Aunt Emmaline say tell you I +hurt my head fallin' out de door de night you whip Uncle Sim.' Den he +say, 'Is dat de truf?' I say, 'Naw sir.' He took Aunt Emmaline down to +de gear house an' wore her out. He wouldn' tell off on me. He jus' tol' +her dat she had no bus'ness a-lettin' me stay up so late dat I seen him +do de whippin'.</p> + +<p>"My pa was named George Clemens. Us was all owned by Marster Morgan +Clemens. Master Hardy, his daddy, had give us to him when he 'vided out +wid de res' o' his chillun. (Marster Morgan was a settled man. He went +'roun' by hisse'f mos' o' de time. He never did marry.)</p> + +<p>"My pa went to de war wid Marster Morgan an' he never come back. I don't +'member much 'bout 'em goin', but after dey lef' I 'member de Blue Coats +a-comin'. Dey tore de smoke house down an' made a big fire an' cooked +all de meat dey could hol'. All us Niggers had a good time, 'cause, dey +give us all us wanted. One of 'em put me up on his knee an' asked me if +I'd ever seen Marster wid any little bright 'roun' shiny things. (He +held his hand up wid his fingers in de shape of a dollar.) I, lak a +crazy little Nigger said, 'Sho', Marster draps 'em 'hind de +mantelpiece.' Den, if dey didn' tear dat mantel down an' git his money, +I's a son-of-a-gun!</p> + +<p>"After de war was over my ma got some papers from de progo[FN: provost] +marshal. She come to de place an 'tol' de marster she want her chillun. +He say she can have all 'cept me. She say she want me, too, dat I was +her'n an' she was gwine a-git me. She went back an 'got some more papers +an' showed 'em to Marster Morgan. Den he lemme go.</p> + +<p>"She come out to de house to git us. At firs' I was scared o' her, +'cause I didn' know who she was. She put me in her lap an' she mos' nigh +cried when she seen de back o' my head. Dey was awful sores where de +lice had been an' I had scratched 'em. (She sho' jumped Aunt Emmaline +'bout dat.) Us lef' dat day an' went right on to Tuscaloosa. My ma had +married again an' she an' him took turns 'bout carrying me when I got +tired. Us had to walk de whole seven miles.</p> + +<p>"I went to school after dat an' learnt to read an' write. Us had white +Yankee teachers. I learnt to read de Bible well' nough an' den I quit.</p> + +<p>"I was buried in de water lak de Savior. I's a real Baptis'. De Holy +Sperrit sho' come into my heart.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieves in de Sperrit. I b'lieves all o' us when us dies is +sperrits. Us jus' hovers 'roun' in de sky a-ridin' on de clouds. Course, +some folks is born wid a cloud over dey faces. Dey can see things dat us +can't. I reckon dey sees de sperrits. I know' bout dem Kloo Kluxes. I +had to go to court one time to testify 'bout' em. One night after us had +moved to Tuscaloosa dey come after my step-daddy. Whilst my ma an' de +res' went an' hid I went to de door. I warnt scared. I says, 'Marster +Will, aint dat you?' He say, 'Sho', it's me. Whar's yo' daddy?' I tol' +'im dat he'd gone to town. Den dey head out for 'im. In de meantime my +ma she had started out, too. She warned him to hide, so dey didn' git +'im.</p> + +<p>"Soon after dat de Yankees hel' a trial in Tuscaloosa. Dey carried me. A +man hel' me up an' made me p'int out who it was dat come to our house. I +say, 'Dat's de man, aint it Marster Will?' He couldn' say "No", 'cause +he'd tol' me twas him dat night. Dey put 'em in jail for six months an' +give 'em a big fine.</p> + +<p>"Us moved from Tuscaloosa while I was still a young girl an' went to +Pickensville, Alabama. Us stayed dar on de river for awhile an' den +moved to Columbus, Mississippi. I lived dar 'til I was old 'nough to git +out to myse'f.</p> + +<p>"Den I come to Aberdeen an' married Sam Baker. Me an' Sam done well. He +made good money an' us bought dis very house I lives in now. Us never +had no chillun, but I was lef' one by a cousin o' mine what died. I +raised her lak she was my own. I sont her to school an' ever'thing. She +lives in Chicago now an' wants me to come live wid her. But shucks! What +would a old woman lak me do in a place lak dat?</p> + +<p>"I aint got nothin' lef now 'cept a roof over my head. I wouldn' have +dat 'cept for de President o' de United States. Dey had loaned me some +money to fix up de house to keep it from fallin' down on me. Dey said +I'd have fifteen year to pay it back in. Now course, I knowed I'd be +dead in dat time, so I signed up wid' em.</p> + +<p>"Las' year de men dat collec' nearly worrit me to death a-tryin' to git +some money from me. I didn' have none, so dey say dey gwine a-take my +home.</p> + +<p>"Now I hear tell o' dat barefoot Nigger down at Columbus callin' de +president an' him bein' so good to 'im. So I 'cided to write an' tell +'im what a plight dis Nigger was in. I didn' say nothin noxious[FN: +obnoxious], but I jus' tol' him plain facts. He writ me right back an' +pretty soon he sont a man down to see me. He say I needn' bother no +more, dat dey won't take my house 'way from me. An' please de Lawd! Dey +aint nobody else been here a-pesterin' me since.</p> + +<p>"Dat man tol' me soon as de old age pension went th'ough I'd git thirty +dollars a mont' stid[FN: instead] o' de four I's a-gittin' now. Now +won't dat be gran'? I could live lak de white folks on dat much.</p> + +<p>"I'se had 'ligion all my born days. (I never learnt to read de Bible an' +'terpet de Word 'til I was right smart size, but I mus' o' b'lieved in +de Lawd since 'way back.) I'se gwine a-go right 'long an' keep +a-trustin' de good Lawd an' I knows ever'thing gwine a-come out all +right.</p> + +<p>"'Twixt de Lawd an' de good white folks I know I's gwine always have +somethin' t'eat. President Roosevelt done 'tended to de roof over my +head."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="CameronJohn"></a> +<h3>JOHN CAMERON<br> +Jackson, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>John Cameron, ex-slave, lives in Jackson. He was born in 1842 and was +owned by Howell Magee. He is five feet six inches tall, and weighs about +150 pounds. His general coloring is blackish-brown with white kinky +hair. He is in fairly good health.</p> + +<p>"I'se always lived right here in Hinds County. I's seen Jackson grow +from de groun' up.</p> + +<p>"My old Marster was de bes' man in de worl'. I jus' wish I could tell, +an' make it plain, jus' how good him an' old Mistis was. Marster was a +rich man. He owned 'bout a thousand an' five hund'ed acres o' lan' an' +roun' a hund'ed slaves. Marster's big two-story white house wid +lightning rods standin' all 'bout on de roof set on top of a hill.</p> + +<p>"De slave cabins, 'cross a valley from de Big House, was built in rows. +Us was 'lowed to sing, play de fiddles, an' have a good time. Us had +plenty t' eat and warm clo'es an' shoes in de winter time. De cabins was +kep' in good shape. Us aint never min' workin' for old Marster, cause us +got good returns. Dat meant good livin' an' bein' took care of right. +Marster always fed his slaves in de Big House.</p> + +<p>"De slaves would go early to de fiel's an work in de cotton an' corn. +Dey had different jobs.</p> + +<p>"De overseers was made to un'erstan' to be 'siderate of us. Work went on +all de week lak dat. Dey got off from de fiel's early on Satu'd'y +evenin's, washed up an' done what dey wanted to. Some went huntin' or +fishin', some fiddled an' danced an' sung, while de others jus' lazed +roun' de cabins. Marse had two of de slaves jus' to be fiddlers. Dey +played for us an' kep' things perked up. How us could swing, an' +step-'bout by dat old fiddle music always a-goin' on. Den old Marster +come 'roun' wid his kin'ly smile an' jov'al sp'rits. When things went +wrong he always knowed a way. He knowed how to comfort you in trouble.</p> + +<p>"Now, I was a gardner or yard boy. Dat was my part as a slave. I he'ped +keep de yard pretty an' clean, de grass cut, an' de flowers' tended to +an' cut. I taken dat work' cause I lak's pretty flowers. I laks to buil' +frames for 'em to run on an' to train 'em to win' 'roun'. I could monkey +wid 'em all de time.</p> + +<p>"When folks started a-comin' through talkin' 'bout a-freein' us an' +a-givin' us lan' an' stuff, it didn' take wid Marster's slaves. Us didn' +want nothin' to come 'long to take us away from him. Dem a tellin' de +Niggers dey'd git lan' an' cattle an' de lak of dat was all foolis'ness, +nohow. Us was a-livin' in plenty an' peace.</p> + +<p>"De war broke out spite o' how Marster's Niggers felt. When I seen my +white folks leave for war, I cried myself sick, an' all de res' did too. +Den de Yankees come through a-takin' de country. Old Marster refugeed us +to Virginny. I can't say if de lan' was his'n, but he had a place for us +to stay at. I know us raised 'nough food stuff for all de slaves. +Marster took care o' us dere 'til de war ended.</p> + +<p>"Den he come to camp late one evenin' an tol' us dat us was free as he +was; dat us could stay in Virginny an work or us could come to +Mississippi wid him. Might nigh de whole passel bun'led up an' come +back, an' glad to do it, too. Dar us all stayed 'til de family all died. +De las' one died a few years ago an' lef' us few old darkies to grieve +over 'em.</p> + +<p>"I don' know much 'bout de Klu Klux Klan an' all dat. Dey rode 'bout at +night an' wore long white ghos'-lak robes. Dey whup folks an' had +meetin's way off in de woods at midnight. Dey done all kinds o' curious +things. None never did bother 'bout Marster's place, so I don' know much +'bout 'em.</p> + +<p>"After de War it took a mighty long time to git things a-goin' smooth. +Folks an' de Gov'ment, too, seem lak dey was all up-set an' threatened +lak. For a long time it look lak things gwine bus' loose ag'in. Mos' +ever'thing was tore up an' burned down to de groun'. It took a long time +to build back dout no money. Den twant de gran' old place it was de +firs' time.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was a young man. I was lucky 'nough to git de nex' +bes' woman in de worl'. (Old Mis' was de bes'.) Dat gal was so good 'til +I had to court 'er mos' two years 'fore she'd say she'd have me.</p> + +<p>"Us had six chillun. Three of 'em's still livin'. I can't say much for +my chillun. I don' lak to feel hard, but I tried to raise my chillun de +bes' I could. I educated 'em; even bought 'em a piano an' give em' +music. One of 'em is in Memphis, 'nother'n in Detroit, an' de other'n in +Chicago. I writes to 'em to he'p me, but don' never hear from 'em. I's +old an' dey is forgot me, I guess.</p> + +<p>"Dat seems to be de way of de worl' now. Ever'thing an' ever'body is too +fas' an' too frivoless[FN: frivilous] dese here times. I tell you, folks +ought to be more lak old Marster was.</p> + +<p>"I's a Christian an' loves de Lawd. I expects to go to him 'fore long. +Den I know I's gwine see my old Marstar an' Mistis ag'in."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>BIBLIOGRAPHY</b></p> + +<p>John Cameron: Jackson, Mississippi.</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="ClarkGus"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[GUS CLARK<br> +Howison, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Uncle Gus Clark and his aged wife live in a poverty-stricken deserted +village about an eighth of a mile east of Howison.</p> + +<p>Their old mill cabin, a relic of a forgotten lumber industry, is +tumbling down. They received direct relief from the ERA until May, 1934, +when the ERA changed the dole to work relief. Uncle Gus, determined to +have a work card, worked on the road with the others until he broke down +a few days later and was forced to accept direct relief. Now, neither +Gus nor Liza is able to work, and the only help available for them is +the meager State Old Age Assistance. Gus still manages to tend their +tiny garden.</p> + +<p>He gives his story:</p> + +<p>"I'se gwine on 'bout eighty-five. 'At's my age now. I was born at +Richmond, Virginny, but lef' dare right afte' de War. Dey had done +surrendered den, an' my old marster doan have no mo' power over us. We +was all free an' Boss turned us loose.</p> + +<p>"My mammy's name was Judy, an' my pappy was Bob. Clark was de Boss's +name. I doan 'member my mammy, but pappy was workin' on de railroad +afte' freedom an' got killed.</p> + +<p>"A man come to Richmond an' carried me an' pappy an' a lot of other +niggers ter Loos'anna ter work in de sugar cane. I was little but he +said I could be a water boy. It sho' was a rough place. Dem niggers +quar'l an' fight an' kills one 'nother. Big Boss, he rich, an' doan 'low +no sheriff ter come on his place. He hol' cou't an' settle all 'sputes +hisself. He done bury de dead niggers an' put de one what killed him +back to work.</p> + +<p>"A heap of big rattlesnakes lay in dem canebrakes, an' dem niggers shoot +dey heads off an' eat 'em. It didn' kill de niggers. Dem snakes was fat +an' tender, an' fried jes lak chicken.</p> + +<p>"Dere in Loos'anna we doan get no pay 'til de work is laid by. Den we'se +paid big money, no nickels. Mos' of de cullud mens go back to where dey +was raised.</p> + +<p>"Dat was afte' freedom, but my daddy say dat de niggers earn money on +Old Boss' place even durin' slav'ry. He give 'em every other Sat'dy fer +deyse'ves. Dey cut cordwood fer Boss, wimmens an' all. Mos' of de mens +cut two cords a day an' de wimmens one. Boss paid 'em a dollar a cord. +Dey save dat money, fer dey doan have to pay it out fer nothin'. Big +Boss didn' fail to feed us good an' give us our work clo'es. An' he paid +de doctor bills. Some cullud men saved enough to buy deyse'ves frum +Boss, as free as I is now.</p> + +<p>"Slav'ry was better in some ways 'an things is now. We allus got plen'y +ter eat, which we doan now. We can't make but fo' bits a day workin' out +now, an' 'at doan buy nothin' at de sto'. Co'se Boss only give us work +clo'es. When I was a kid I got two os'berg[FN: Osnaberg: the cheapest +grade of cotton cloth] shirts a year. I never wo' no shoes. I didn' know +whut a shoe was made fer, 'til I'se twelve or thirteen. We'd go rabbit +huntin' barefoot in de snow.</p> + +<p>"Didn' wear no Sunday clo'es. Dey wa'nt made fer me, 'cause I had +nowhere ter go. You better not let Boss ketch you off'n de place, less'n +he give you a pass to go. My Boss didn' 'low us to go to church, er to +pray er sing. Iffen he ketched us prayin' er singin' he whupped us. He +better not ketch you with a book in yo' han'. Didn' 'low it. I doan know +whut de reason was. Jess meanness, I reckin. I doan b'lieve my marster +ever went to church in his life, but he wa'nt mean to his niggers, 'cept +fer doin' things he doan 'low us to. He didn' care fer nothin' 'cept +farmin'.</p> + +<p>"Dere wa'nt no schools fer cullud people den. We didn' know whut a +school was. I never did learn to read.</p> + +<p>"We didn' have no mattresses on our beds like we has now. De chullun +slep' under de big high beds, on sacks. We was put under dem beds 'bout +eight o'clock, an' we'd jes better not say nothin' er make no noise +afte' den. All de cullud folks slep' on croker sacks full of hay er +straw.</p> + +<p>"Did I ever see any niggers punished? Yessum, I sho' has. Whupped an' +chained too. Day was whupped 'til de blood come, 'til dey back split all +to pieces. Den it was washed off wid salt, an' de nigger was put right +back in de fiel'. Dey was whupped fer runnin' away. Sometimes dey run +afte' 'em fer days an nights with dem big old blood houn's. Heap o' +people doan b'lieve dis. But I does, 'cause I seed it myse'f.</p> + +<p>"I'se lived here forty-five years, an' chipped turpentine mos' all my +life since I was free.</p> + +<p>"I'se had three wives. I didn' have no weddin's, but I mar'ied 'em +'cordin to law. I woan stay with one no other way. My fust two wives is +dead. Liza an' me has been mar'ied 'bout 'leven years. I never had but +one chile, an' 'at by my fust wife, an' he's dead. But my other two +wives had been mar'ied befo', an' had chullun. 'Simon here,' pointing to +a big buck of fifty-five sitting on the front porch, 'is Liza's oldest +boy.'"</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="CorneliusJames"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[JAMES CORNELIUS<br> +Magnolia, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>James Cornelius lives in Magnolia in the northwestern part of the town, +in the Negro settlement. He draws a Confederate pension of four dollars +per month. He relates events of his life readily.</p> + +<p>"I does not know de year I was borned but dey said I was 15 years old +when de War broke out an' dey tell me I'se past 90 now. Dey call me +James Cornelius an' all de white folks says I'se a good 'spectable +darkey.</p> + +<p>"I was borned in Franklin, Loos'anna. My mammy was named Chlo an' dey +said my pappy was named Henry. Dey b'longed to Mr. Alex Johnson an' +whil'st I was a baby my mammy, my brudder Henry, an' me was sol' to +Marse Sam Murry Sandell an' we has brung to Magnolia to live an' I niver +remember seein' my pappy ag'in.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry didn' have many slaves. His place was right whar young +Mister Lampton Reid is buildin' his fine house jes east of de town. My +mammy had to work in da house an' in de fiel' wid all de other niggers +an' I played in de yard wid de little chulluns, bofe white an' black. +Sometimes we played 'tossin' de ball' an' sometimes we played +'rap-jacket' an' sometimes 'ketcher.' An' when it rained we had to go in +de house an' Old Mistess made us behave.</p> + +<p>"I was taught how to work 'round de house, how to sweep an' draw water +frum de well an' how to kin'le fires an' keep de wood box filled wid +wood, but I was crazy to larn how to plow an' when I could I would slip +off an' get a old black man to let me walk by his side an' hold de lines +an' I thought I was big 'nouf to plow.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry didn' have no overseer. He made de slaves work, an' he was +good an' kind to 'em, but when dey didn' do right he would whip 'em, but +he didn' beat 'em. He niver stripped 'em to whip 'em. Yes ma'm, he +whipped me but I needed it. One day I tol' him I was not goin' to do +whut he tol' me to do—feed de mule—but when he got through wid me I +<u>wanted</u> to feed dat mule.</p> + +<p>"I come to live wid Marse Murry 'fo dar was a town here. Dar was only +fo' houses in dis place when I was a boy. I seed de fust train dat come +to dis here town an' it made so much noise dat I run frum it. Dat smoke +puffed out'n de top an' de bell was ringin' an' all de racket it did +make made me skeered.</p> + +<p>"I heered dem talkin' 'bout de war but I didn' know whut dey meant an' +one day Marse Murry said he had jined de Quitman Guards an' was goin' to +de war an' I had to go wid him. Old Missus cried an' my mammy cried but +I thought it would be fun. He tuk me 'long an' I waited on him. I kept +his boots shinin' so yer could see yer face in 'em. I brung him water +an' fed an' cur'ied his hoss an' put his saddle on de hoss fer him. Old +Missus tol' me to be good to him an' I was.</p> + +<p>"One day I was standin' by de hoss an' a ball kilt[FN: killed] de hoss +an' he fell over dead an' den I cried like it mout[FN: might] be my +brudder. I went way up in Tennessee an' den I was at Port Hudson. I seed +men fall dawn an' die; dey was kilt like pigs. Marse Murry was shot an' +I stayed wid him 'til dey could git him home. Dey lef' me behin' an' +Col. Stockdale an' Mr. Sam Matthews brung me home.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry died an' Old Missus run de place. She was good an' kind to +us all an' den she mar'ied afte' while to Mr. Gatlin. Dat was afte' de +war was over.</p> + +<p>"Whil'st I was in de war I seed Mr. Jeff Davis. He was ridin' a big hoss +an' he looked mighty fine. I niver seed him 'ceptin he was on de hoss.</p> + +<p>"Dey said old man Abe Lincoln was de nigger's friend, but frum de way +old Marse an' de sojers talk 'bout him I thought he was a mighty mean +man.</p> + +<p>"I doan recollec' when dey tol' us we was freed but I do know Mr. Gatlin +would promise to pay us fer our work an' when de time would come fer to +pay he said he didn' have it an' kep' puttin us off, an' we would work +some more an' git nothin' fer it. Old Missus would cry an' she was good +to us but dey had no money.</p> + +<p>"'Fo de war Marse Murry would wake all de niggers by blowin' a big +'konk' an' den when dinner time would come Old Missus would blow de +'konk' an' call dem to dinner. I got so I could blow dat 'konk' fer Old +Missus but oh! it tuk my wind.</p> + +<p>"Marse Murry would 'low me to drive his team when he would go to market. +I could haul de cotton to Covin'ton an' bring back whut was to eat, an' +all de oxen could pull was put on dat wagon. We allus had good eatin +afte' we had been to market.</p> + +<p>"Every Chris'mus would come I got a apple an' some candy an' mammy would +cook cake an' pies fer Old Missus an' stack dem on de shelf in de big +kitchen an' we had every thing good to eat. Dem people sho' was good an' +kind to all niggers.</p> + +<p>"Afte de war de times was hard an' de white an' black people was +fightin' over who was to git de big office, an' den dere was mighty +leetle to eat. Dar was plen'y whiskey, but I'se kep' 'way frum all dat. +I was raised right. Old Missus taught me ter 'spect white folks an' some +of dem promised me land but I niver got it. All de land I'se ever got I +work mighty hard fer it an' I'se got it yit.</p> + +<p>"One day afte' Mr. Gatlin said he couldn' pay me I run 'way an' went to +New Orleans an' got a job haulin' cotton, an' made my 50 cents an' +dinner every day. I sho' had me plen'y money den. I stayed dere mighty +close on to fo' years an' den I went to Tylertown an' hauled cotton to +de railroad fer Mr. Ben Lampton. Mr. Lampton said I was de bes' driver +of his team he ever had caze I kep' his team fat.</p> + +<p>"Afte I come back to Miss'ssippi I mar'ied a woman named Maggie Ransom. +We stayed together 51 years. I niver hit her but one time. When we was +gittin' mar'ied I stopped de preacher right in de ceremony an' said to +her, 'Maggie, iffen you niver call me a liar I will niver call you one' +an' she said, 'Jim, I won't call you a liar.' I said, 'That's a bargain' +an' den de preacher went on wid de weddin'. Well, one day afte' we had +been mar'ied' bout fo' years, she ast[FN: asked] me how come I was so +late comin' to supper, an' I said I found some work to do fer a white +lady, an' she said, that's a lie,' an' right den I raised my han' an' +let her have it right by de side of de head, an' she niver called me a +liar ag'in. No ma'm, dat is somethin' I won't stand fer.</p> + +<p>"My old lady had seven chulluns dat lived to git grown. Two of 'em lived +here in Magnolia an' de others gone North. Maggie is daid an' I live wid +my boy Walter an' his wife Lena. Dey is mighty good to me. I owns dis +here house an' fo' acres but day live wid me an' I gits a Confed'rate +pension of fo' dollars a month. Dat gives me my coffee an' 'bacco. I'se +proud I'se a old sojer, I seed de men fall when dey was shot but I was +not skeered. We et bread when we could git it an' if we couldn' git it +we done widout.</p> + +<p>"Afte' I lef' Mr. Lampton I'se come here an' went to work fer Mr. Enoch +at Fernwood when his mill was jes a old rattletrap of a mill. I work fer +him 45 years. At fust I hauled timber out'n de woods an' afte' whil'st I +hauled lumber to town to build houses. I sometimes collec' fer de lumber +but I niver lost one nickle, an' dem white folks says I sho' was a +honest nigger.</p> + +<p>"I lived here on dis spot an' rode a wheel to Fernwood every day, an' +fed de teams an' hitched 'em to de wagons an' I was niver late an' niver +stopped fer anything, an' my wheel niver was in de shop. I niver 'lowed +anybody to prank wid it, an' dat wheel was broke up by my gran'chulluns.</p> + +<p>"Afte I quit work at de mill I'se come home an' plow gardens fer de +white folks an' make some more money. I sho' could plow.</p> + +<p>"I jined de New Zion Baptist Church here in Magnolia an' was baptized in +de Tanghipoa River one Sunday evenin'. I was so happy dat I shouted, me +an' my wife bofe. I'se still a member of dat church but I do not preach +an' I'm not no deacon; I'se jes a bench member an' a mighty po' one at +dat. My wife was buried frum dat church.</p> + +<p>"Doan know why I was not called Jim Sandell, but mammy said my pappy was +named Henry Cornelius an' I reckin I was give my pappy's name.</p> + +<p>"When I was a young man de white folks' Baptist Church was called Salem +an' it was on de hill whar de graveyard now is. It burnt down an' den +dey brung it to town, an' as I was goin' to tell yer I went possum +huntin' in dat graveyard one night. I tuk my ax an' dog 'long wid me an' +de dog, he treed a possum right in de graveyard. I cut down dat tree an' +started home, when all to once somethin' run by me an' went down dat big +road lak light'ning an' my dog was afte' it. Den de dog come back an' +lay down at my feet an' rolled on his back an' howled an' howled, an' +right den I knowed it was a sperit an' I throwed down my 'possum an' ax +an' beat de dog home. I tell you dat was a sperit—I'se seed plen'y of +'em. Dat ain't de only sperit I ever seed. I'se seen 'em a heap of +times. Well, dat taught me niver to hunt in a grave yard ag'in.</p> + +<p>"No ma'm, I niver seed a ghost but I tell yer I know dere is sperits. +Let me tell yer, anudder time I was goin' by de graveyard an' I seed a +man's head. He had no feet, but he kep' lookin' afte' me an' every way I +turned he wouldn' take his eye offen me, an' I walked fast an' he got +faster an' den I run an' den he run, an' when I got home I jes fell on +de bed an' hollered an' hollered an' tol' my old lady, an' she said I +was jes' skeered, but I'se sho' seed dat sperit an' I ain't goin' by de +grave yard at night by myse'f ag'in.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;"> +<p>An' let me tell yer dis. Right in front of dis house—yer see dat white +house?—Well, last Febr'ary a good old cullud lady died in dat house, +an' afte' she was buried de rest of de fambly moved away, an' every +night I kin look over to dat house an' see a light in de window. Dat +light comes an' goes, an' nobody lives dar. Doan I know dat is de sperit +of dat woman comin' back here to tell some of her fambly a message? Yes +ma'm, dat is her sperit an' dat house is hanted an' nobody will live dar +ag'in.</p> + +<p>"No ma'm, I can't read nor write."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="DavenportCharlie"></a> +<h3>Charlie Davenport, Ex-slave, Adams County<br> +FEC<br> +Edith Wyatt Moore<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +[CHARLIE DAVENPORT<br> +Natchez, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was named Charlie Davenport an' encordin'[FN: according] to de way I +figgers I ought to be nearly a hund'ed years old. Nobody knows my +birthday, 'cause all my white folks is gone.</p> + +<p>"I was born one night an' de very nex' mornin' my po' little mammy died. +Her name was Lucindy. My pa was William Davenport.</p> + +<p>"When I was a little mite dey turnt me over to de granny nurse on de +plantation. She was de one dat 'tended to de little pickaninnies. She +got a woman to nurse me what had a young baby, so I didn' know no +dif'ence. Any woman what had a baby 'bout my age would wet nurse me, so +I growed up in de quarters an' was as well an' as happy as any other +chil'.</p> + +<p>"When I could <u>tote taters</u>[FN: sweet potatoes] dey'd let me pick' +em up in de fiel'. Us always hid a pile away where us could git' em an' +roast' em at night.</p> + +<p>"Old mammy nearly always made a heap o' dewberry an' 'simmon[FN: +persimmon]. wine.</p> + +<p>"Us little tykes would gather black walnuts in de woods an' store 'em +under de cabins to dry.</p> + +<p>"At night when de work was all done an' de can'les was out us'd set +'roun' de fire an' eat cracked nuts an' taters. Us picked out de nuts +wid horse-shoe nails an' baked de taters in ashes. Den Mammy would pour +herse'f an' her old man a cup o' wine. Us never got none o' dat +less'n[FN: unless] us be's sick. Den she'd mess it up wid wild cherry +bark. It was bad den, but us gulped it down, anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Old Granny used to sing a song to us what went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +'Kinky head, whar-fore you skeered? +Old snake crawled off, 'cause he's afeared. +Pappy will smite 'im on de back +Wid a great big club—ker whack! Ker whack!' +</pre> + +<p>"Aventine, where I was born an' bred, was acrost Secon' Creek. It was a +big plantation wid 'bout a hund'ed head o' folks a-livin' on it. It was +only one o' de marster's places, 'cause he was one o' de riches' an' +highes' quality gent'men in de whole country. I's tellin' you de trufe, +us didn' b'long to no white trash. De marster was de Honorable Mister +Gabriel Shields hisse'f. Ever'body knowed 'bout him. He married a +Surget.</p> + +<p>"Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches' fam'ly in +de lan'. Dey was de out-fightin'es', out-cussin'es', fastes' ridin', +hardes' drinkin', out-spendin'es' folks I ever seen. But Lawd! Lawd! Dey +was gent'men even in dey cups. De ladies was beautiful wid big black +eyes an' sof' white han's, but dey was high strung, too.</p> + +<p>"De marster had a town mansion what's pictured in a lot o' books. It was +called 'Montebella.' De big columns still stan' at de end o' Shields +Lane. It burnt 'bout thirty years ago (1937).</p> + +<p>"I's part Injun. I aint got no Nigger nose an' my hair is so long I has +to keep it wropped[FN: wrapped]. I'se often heard my mammy was +redish-lookin' wid long, straight, black hair. Her pa was a full blooded +Choctaw an' mighty nigh as young as she was. I'se been tol' dat nobody +dast[FN: dared] meddle wid her. She didn' do much talkin', but she sho' +was a good worker. My pappy had Injun blood, too, but his hair was +kinky.</p> + +<p>"De Choctaws lived all 'roun' Secon' Creek. Some of 'em had cabins lak +settled folks. I can 'member dey las' chief. He was a tall pow'ful built +man named 'Big Sam.' What he said was de law, 'cause he was de boss o' +de whole tribe. One rainy night he was kilt in a saloon down in 'Natchez +Under de Hill.' De Injuns went wild wid rage an' grief. Dey sung an' +wailed an' done a heap o' low mutterin'. De sheriff kep' a steady watch +on' em, 'cause he was afeared dey would do somethin' rash. After a long +time he kinda let up in his vig'lance. Den one night some o' de Choctaw +mens slipped in town an' stobbed[FN: stabbed] de man dey b'lieved had +kilt Big Sam. I 'members dat well.</p> + +<p>"As I said b'fore, I growed up in de quarters. De houses was clean an' +snug. Us was better fed den dan I is now, an' warmer, too. Us had +blankets an' quilts filled wid home raised wool an' I jus' loved layin' +in de big fat feather bed a-hearin' de rain patter on de roof.</p> + +<p>"All de little darkeys he'ped bring in wood. Den us swept de yards wid +brush brooms. Den sometimes us played together in de street what run de +length o' de quarters. Us th'owed horse-shoes, jumped poles, walked on +stilts, an' played marbles. Sometimes us made bows an' arrows. Us could +shoot 'em, too, jus lak de little Injuns.</p> + +<p>"A heap of times old Granny would brush us hide wid a peach tree limb, +but us need it. Us stole aigs[FN: eggs] an' roasted 'em. She sho' +wouldn' stan' for no stealin' if she knowed it.</p> + +<p>"Us wore lowell-cloth shirts. It was a coarse tow-sackin'. In winter us +had linsey-woolsey pants an' heavy cow-hide shoes. Dey was made in three +sizes—big, little, an' mejum[FN: medium]. Twant no right or lef'. Dey +was sorta club-shaped so us could wear 'em on either foot.</p> + +<p>"I was a teasin', mis-che-vious chil' an' de overseer's little gal got +it in for me. He was a big, hard fisted Dutchman bent on gittin' riches. +He trained his pasty-faced gal to tattle on us Niggers. She got a heap +o' folks whipped. I knowed it, but I was hasty: One day she hit me wid a +stick an' I th'owed it back at her. 'Bout dat time up walked her pa. He +seen what I done, but he didn' see what she done to me. But it wouldn' +a-made no dif'ence, if he had.</p> + +<p>"He snatched me in de air an' toted me to a stump an' laid me 'crost it. +I didn' have but one thickness 'twixt me an' daylight. Gent'men! He laid +it on me wid dat stick. I thought I'd die. All de time his mean little +gal was a-gloatin' in my misery. I yelled an' prayed to de Lawd 'til he +quit.</p> + +<p>"Den he say to me,</p> + +<p>'From now on you works in de fiel'. I aint gwine a-have no vicious boy +lak you 'roun de lady folks.' I was too little for fiel' work, but de +nex' mornin' I went to choppin' cotton. After dat I made a reg'lar fiel' +han'. When I growed up I was a ploughman. I could sho' lay off a pretty +cotton row, too.</p> + +<p>"Us slaves was fed good plain grub. 'Fore us went to de fiel' us had a +big breakfas' o' hot bread, 'lasses, fried salt meat dipped in corn +meal, an' fried taters[FN: sweet potatoes]. Sometimes us had fish an' +rabbit meat. When us was in de fiel', two women 'ud come at dinner-time +wid baskets filled wid hot pone, baked taters, corn roasted in de +shucks, onion, fried squash, an' b'iled pork. Sometimes dey brought +buckets o' cold buttermilk. It sho' was good to a hongry man. At +supper-time us had hoecake an' cold vi'tals. Sometimes dey was sweetmilk +an' collards.</p> + +<p>"Mos' ever' slave had his own little garden patch an' was 'lowed to cook +out of it.</p> + +<p>"Mos' ever plantation kep' a man busy huntin' an' fishin' all de time. +(If dey shot a big buck, us had deer meat roasted on a spit.)</p> + +<p>"On Sundays us always had meat pie or fish or fresh game an' roasted +taters an' coffee. On Chris'mus de marster 'ud give us chicken an' +barrels o' apples an' oranges. 'Course, ever' marster warnt as free +handed as our'n was. (He was sho' 'nough quality.) I'se hear'd dat a +heap o' cullud people never had nothin' good t'eat.</p> + +<p>"I warnt learnt nothin' in no book. Don't think I'd a-took to it, +nowhow. Dey learnt de house servants to read. Us fiel' han's never +knowed nothin' 'cept weather an' dirt an' to weigh cotton. Us was learnt +to figger a little, but dat's all.</p> + +<p>"I reckon I was 'bout fifteen when hones' Abe Lincoln what called +hisse'f a rail-splitter come here to talk wid us. He went all th'ough de +country jus' a-rantin' an' a-preachin' 'bout us bein' his black +brothers. De marster didn' know nothin' 'bout it, 'cause it was sorta +secret-lak. It sho' riled de Niggers up an' lots of 'em run away. I sho' +hear'd him, but I didn' pay 'im no min'.</p> + +<p>"When de war broke out dat old Yankee Dutch overseer o' our'n went back +up North, where he b'longed. Us was pow'ful glad an' hoped he'd git his +neck broke.</p> + +<p>"After dat de Yankees come a-swoopin' down on us. My own pappy took off +wid 'em. He j'ined a comp'ny what fit[FN: fought] at Vicksburg. I was +plenty big 'nough to fight, but I didn' hanker to tote no gun. I stayed +on de plantation an' put in a crop.</p> + +<p>"It was pow'ful on easy times after dat. But what I care 'bout freedom? +Folks what was free was in misery firs' one way an' den de other.</p> + +<p>"I was on de plantation closer to town, den. It was called 'Fish Pond +Plantation.' De white folks come an' tol' us we mus' burn all de cotton +so de enemy couldn' git it.</p> + +<p>"Us piled it high in de fiel's lak great mountains. It made my innards +hurt to see fire 'tached to somethin' dat had cost us Niggers so much +labor an' hones' sweat. If I could a-hid some o' it in de barn I'd +a-done it, but de boss searched ever'where.</p> + +<p>"De little Niggers thought it was fun. Dey laughed an' brung out big +armfuls from de cotton house. One little black gal clapped her han's an' +jumped in a big heap. She sunk down an' down' til she was buried deep. +Den de wind picked up de flame an' spread it lak lightenin'. It spread +so fas' dat 'fore us could bat de eye, she was in a mountain of fiah. +She struggled up all covered wid flames, a-screamin',' Lawdy, he'p me!' +Us snatched her out an' rolled her on de groun', but twant no use. She +died in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"De marster's sons went to war. De one what us loved bes' never come +back no more. Us mourned him a-plenty, 'cause he was so jolly an' +happy-lak, an' free wid his change. Us all felt cheered when he come +'roun'.</p> + +<p>"Us Niggers didn' know nothin' 'bout what was gwine on in de outside +worl'. All us knowed was dat a war was bein' fit. Pussonally, I b'lieve +in what Marse Jefferson Davis done. He done de only thing a gent'man +could a-done. He tol' Marse Abe Lincoln to 'tend to his own bus'ness an' +he'd 'tend to his'n. But Marse Lincoln was a fightin' man an' he come +down here an' tried to run other folks' plantations. Dat made Marse +Davis so all fired mad dat he spit hard 'twixt his teeth an' say, 'I'll +whip de socks off dem dam Yankees.'</p> + +<p>"Dat's how it all come 'bout.</p> + +<p>"My white folks los' money, cattle, slaves, an' cotton in de war, but +dey was still better off dan mos' folks.</p> + +<p>"Lak all de fool Niggers o' dat time I was right smart bit by de freedom +bug for awhile. It sounded pow'ful nice to be tol':</p> + +<p>'You don't have to chop cotton no more. You can th'ow dat hoe down an' +go fishin' whensoever de notion strikes you. An' you can roam' roun' at +night an' court gals jus' as late as you please. Aint no marster gwine +a-say to you, "Charlie, you's got to be back when de clock strikes +nine."'</p> + +<p>"I was fool 'nough to b'lieve all dat kin' o' stuff. But to tell de +hones' truf, mos' o' us didn' know ourse'fs no better off. Freedom meant +us could leave where us'd been born an' bred, but it meant, too, dat us +had to scratch for us ownse'fs. Dem what lef' de old plantation seemed +so all fired glad to git back dat I made up my min' to stay put. I +stayed right wid my white folks as long as I could.</p> + +<p>"My white folks talked plain to me. Dey say real sad-lak, 'Charlie, +you's been a dependence, but now you can go if you is so desirous. But +if you wants to stay wid us you can share-crop. Dey's a house for you +an' wood to keep you warm an' a mule to work. We aint got much cash, but +dey's de lan' an' you can count on havin' plenty o' vit'als. Do jus' as +you please.' When I looked at my marster an' knowed he needed me, I +pleased to stay. My marster never forced me to do nary thing' bout it. +Didn' nobody make me work after de war, but dem Yankees sho' made my +daddy work. Dey put a pick in his han' stid[FN: instead] o' a gun. Dey +made' im dig a big ditch in front o' Vicksburg. He worked a heap harder +for his Uncle Sam dan he'd ever done for de marster.</p> + +<p>"I hear'd tell 'bout some Nigger sojers a-plunderin' some houses: Out at +Pine Ridge dey kilt a white man named Rogillio. But de head Yankee +sojers in Natchez tried 'em for somethin' or nother an' hung 'em on a +tree out near de Charity Horspital. Dey strung up de ones dat went to +Mr. Sargent's door one night an' shot him down, too. All dat hangin' +seemed to squelch a heap o' lousy goin's-on.</p> + +<p>"Lawd! Lawd! I knows 'bout de Kloo Kluxes. I knows a-plenty. Dey was +sho' 'nough devils a-walkin' de earth a-seekin' what dey could devour. +Dey larruped de hide of'n de uppity Niggers an' driv[FN: drove] de white +trash back where dey b'longed.</p> + +<p>"Us Niggers didn' have no secret meetin's. All us had was church +meetin's in arbors out in de woods. De preachers 'ud exhort us dat us +was de chillun o' Israel in de wilderness an' de Lawd done sont us to +take dis lan' o' milk an' honey. But how us gwine a-take lan' what's +already been took?</p> + +<p>"I sho' aint never hear'd' bout no plantations bein' 'vided up, neither. +I hear'd a lot o' yaller Niggers spoutin' off how dey was gwine a-take +over de white folks' lan' for back wages. Dem bucks jus' took all dey +wages out in talk. 'Cause I aint never seen no lan' 'vided up yet.</p> + +<p>"In dem days nobody but Niggers an' shawl-strop[FN: carpet baggers] +folks voted. Quality folks didn' have nothin' to do wid such truck. If +dey had a-wanted to de Yankees wouldn' a-let 'em. My old marster didn' +vote an' if anybody knowed what was what he did. Sense didn' count in +dem days. It was pow'ful ticklish times an' I let votin' alone.</p> + +<p>"De shawl-strop folks what come in to take over de country tol' us dat +us had a right to go to all de balls, church meetin's, an' 'tainments de +white folks give. But one night a bunch o' uppity Niggers went to a +'tainment in Memorial Hall. Dey dressed deysef's fit to kill an' walked +down de aisle an' took seats in de very front. But jus' 'bout time dey +got good set down, de curtain drapped[FN: dropped] an' de white folks +riz[FN: arose] up widout a-sayin' airy word. Dey marched out de buildin' +wid dey chins up an' lef' dem Niggers a-settin' in a empty hall.</p> + +<p>"Dat's de way it happen ever' time a Nigger tried to git too uppity. Dat +night after de breakin' up o' dat' tainment, de Kloo Kluxes rid[FN: +rode] th'ough de lan'. I hear'd dey grabbed ever' Nigger what walked +down dat aisle, but I aint hear'd yet what dey done wid 'em.</p> + +<p>"Dat same thing happened ever' time a Nigger tried to act lak he was +white.</p> + +<p>"A heap o' Niggers voted for a little while. Dey was a black man what +had office. He was named Lynch. He cut a big figger up in Washington. Us +had a sheriff named Winston. He was a ginger cake Nigger an' pow'ful +mean when he got riled. Sheriff Winston was a slave an', if my mem'ry +aint failed me, so was Lynch.</p> + +<p>"My granny tol' me 'bout a slave uprisin' what took place when I was a +little boy. None o' de marster's Niggers' ud have nothin' to do wid it. +A Nigger tried to git 'em to kill dey white folks an' take dey lan'. But +what us want to kill old Marster an' take de lan' when dey was de bes' +frien's us had? Dey caught de Nigger an' hung 'im to a limb.</p> + +<p>"Plenty folks b'lieved in charms, but I didn' take no stock in such +truck. But I don't lak for de moon to shine on me when I's a-sleepin'.</p> + +<p>"De young Niggers is headed straight for hell. All dey think' bout is +drinkin' hard likker, goin' to dance halls, an' a-ridin' in a old rattle +trap car. It beats all how dey brags an' wastes things. Dey aint one +whit happier dan folks was in my day. I was as proud to git a apple as +dey is to git a pint o' likker. Course, schools he'p some, but looks lak +all mos' o' de young'n's is studyin' 'bout is how to git out o' hones' +labor.</p> + +<p>"I'se seen a heap o' fools what thinks 'cause they is wise in books, +they is wise in all things.</p> + +<p>"Mos' all my white folks is gone, now. Marse Randolph Shields is a +doctor 'way off in China. I wish I could git word to' im, 'cause I know +he'd look after me if he knowed I was on charity. I prays de Lawd to see +'em all when I die."</p> + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="EmanuelGabe"></a> +<h3>Gabe Emanuel, Ex-slave, Claiborne County<br> +FEC<br> +Esther de Sola<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +GABE EMANUEL<br> +Port Gibson, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Gabe Emanuel is the blackest of Negroes. He is stooped and wobbly from +his eighty-five years and weighs about one hundred and thirty-five +pounds. His speech is somewhat hindered by an unbelievable amount of +tobacco rolled to one side of his mouth. He lives in the Negro quarters +of Port Gibson. Like most ex-slaves he has the courtesy and the +gentleness of a southern gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Lawsy! Dem slav'ry days done been s'long ago I jus' 'member a few +things dat happen den. But I's sho' mighty pleased to relate dat what I +recollec'.</p> + +<p>"I was de house boy on old judge Stamps' plantation. He lived 'bout nine +miles east o' Port Gibson an' he was a mighty well-to-do gent'man in dem +days. He owned 'bout 500 or 600 Niggers. He made plenty o' money out o' +his fiel's. Dem Niggers worked for dey keep. I 'clare, dey sho' did.</p> + +<p>"Us 'ud dike out in spick an' span clean clothes come Sund'ys. Ever'body +wore homespun clo'es den. De mistis an' de res' o' de ladies in de Big +House made mos' of 'em. De cullud wimmins wore some kin' o' dress wid +white aprons an' de mens wore overalls an' homespun pants an' shirts. +Course, all de time us gits han'-me-downs from de folks in de Big House. +Us what was a-servin' in de Big House wore de marster's old dress suits. +Now, dat was somep'n'! Mos' o' de time dey didn' fit—maybe de pants +hung a little loose an' de tails o' de coat hung a little long. Me bein' +de house boy, I used to look mighty sprucy when I put on my frock tail.</p> + +<p>"De mistis used to teach us de Bible on Sund'ys an' us always had Sund'y +school. Us what lived in de Big House an' even some o' de fiel' han's +was taught to read an' write by de white folks.</p> + +<p>"De fiel' han's sho' had a time wid dat man, Duncan. He was de overseer +man out at de plantation. Why, he'd have dem poor Niggers so dey didn' +know if dey was gwine in circles or what.</p> + +<p>"One day I was out in de quarters when he brung back old man Joe from +runnin' away. Old Joe was always a-runnin' away an' dat man Duncan put +his houn' dogs on 'im an' brung 'im back. Dis time I's speakin' 'bout +Marster Duncan put his han' on old Joe's shoulder an' look him in de eye +sorrowful-lak. 'Joe', he say, 'I's sho' pow'ful tired o' huntin' you. +I'spect I's gwina have to git de marster to sell you some'r's else. +Another marster gwina whup you in de groun' if he ketch you runnin' 'way +lak dis. I's sho sad for you if you gits sol' away. Us gwina miss you +'roun' dis plantation.' After dat old Joe stayed close in an' dey warnt +no more trouble out o' him.</p> + +<p>"Dat big white man called Duncan, he seen dat de Niggers b'have +deyse'ves right. Dey called him de 'Boss Man.' He always carried a big +whup an' when dem Niggers got sassy, dey got de whup 'crost dey hides.</p> + +<p>"Lawsy! I's recallin' de time when de big old houn' dog what fin' de +run-away Niggers done die wid fits. Dat man Duncan, he say us gwina hol' +fun'al rites over dat dog. He say us Niggers might better be's pow'ful +sad when us come to dat fun'al. An' dem Niggers was sad over de death o' +dat poor old dog what had chased 'em all over de country. Dey all stan' +'roun' a-weepin' an' a-mournin'. Ever' now an' den dey'd put water on +dey eyes an' play lak dey was a-weepin' bitter, bitter tears. 'Poor old +dog, she done died down dead an' can't kotch us no more. Poor old dog. +Amen! De Lawd have mercy!'</p> + +<p>"De Judge was a great han' for 'tainment[FN: entertainment]. He always +had a house full o' folks an' he sho' give 'em de bes' o' food an' +likker. Dey was a big room he kep' all polished up lak glass. Ever' now +an' den he'd th'ow a big party an' 'vite mos' ever'body in Mississippi +to come. Dey was fo' Niggers in de quarters what could sing to beat de +ban', an' de Judge would git 'em to sing for his party.</p> + +<p>"I 'member how 'cited I'd git when one o' dem shindigs 'ud come off. I +sho' would strut den. De mistis 'ud dress me up an' I'd carry de likker +an' drinks' roun' 'mongst de peoples. 'Would you prefer dis here mint +julip, Marster? Or maybe you'd relish dis here special wine o' de +Judge's. 'Dem white folks sho' could lap up dem drinks, too. De Judge +had de bes' o' ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"Dey was always a heap o' fresh meat in de meat house. De pantry fairly +bu'sted wid all kin' o' preserves an' sweetnin's. Lawdy! I mean to tell +you dem was de <u>good</u> days.</p> + +<p>"I 'member I used to hate ever' Wednesday. Dat was de day I had to +polish de silver. Lawsy! It took me mos' all day. When I'd think I was +'bout th'ough de mistis was sho' to fin' some o' 'dat silver dat had to +be did over.</p> + +<p>"Den de war broke out. De marster went 'way wid de sojers an' gradual' +de hardness come to de plantation.</p> + +<p>"Us never knowed when dem Yankee sojers would come spen' a few weeks at +de Big House. Dey'd eat up all de marster's vit'als an' drink up all his +good likker.</p> + +<p>"I 'member one time de Yankees camped right in de front yard. Dey took +all de meat out'n de curin' house. Well sir! I done 'cide by myse'f dat +no Yankee gwina eat all us meat. So dat night I slips in dey camp; I +stole back dat meat from dem thievin' sojers an' hid it, good. Ho! Ho! +Ho! But dey never did fin' dat meat.</p> + +<p>"One time us sot fire to a bridge de Yankees had to cross to git to de +plantation. Dey had to camp on de other side, 'cause dey was too lazy to +put out de fire. Dat's jus' lak I figgered it.</p> + +<p>"When de war was over my mammy an' pappy an' us five chillun travelled +here to Port Gibson to live. My mammy hired out for washin'. I don't +know zackly what my pappy done.</p> + +<p>"Lincoln was de man dat sot us free. I don't recollec' much 'bout 'im +'ceptin' what I hear'd in de Big House 'bout Lincoln doin' dis an' +Lincoln doin' dat.</p> + +<p>"Lawdy! I sho' was happy when I was a slave.</p> + +<p>"De Niggers today is de same as dey always was, 'ceptin' dey's gittin' +more money to spen'. Dey aint got nobody to make' em' 'have deyse'ves +an' keep 'em out o' trouble, now.</p> + +<p>"I lives here in Port Gibson an' does mos' ever' kin' o' work. I tries +to live right by ever'body, but I 'spect I won't be here much longer.</p> + +<p>"I'se been married three times.</p> + +<p>"When de time comes to go I hopes to be ready. De Lawd God Almighty +takes good care o' his chillun if dey be's good an' holy."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="FranksDora"></a> +<h3>Dora Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +DORA FRANKS<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Dora Franks, ex-slave, lives at Aberdeen, Monroe County. She is about +five feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. Her hair is inclined to be curly +rather than kinky. She is very active and does most of her own work.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Choctaw County, but I never knowed zackly how old I was, +'cause none o' my folks could read an' write. I reckon I be's 'bout a +hund'ed, 'cause I was a big girl long time fo' Surrender. I was old +'nough to marry two years after dat.</p> + +<p>"My mammy come from Virginny. Her name was Harriet Brewer. My daddy was +my young Marster. His name was Marster George Brewer an' my mammy always +tol' me dat I was his'n. I knew dat dere was some dif'ence 'tween me an' +de res' o' her chillun, 'cause dey was all coal black, an' I was even +lighter dan I is now. Lawd, it's bean to my sorrow many a time, 'cause +de chillun used to chase me 'round an' holler at me, 'Old yallow +Nigger.' Dey didn' treat me good, neither.</p> + +<p>"I stayed in de house mos' o' de time wid Miss Emmaline. Miss Emmaline's +hair was <u>dat</u> white, den. I loved her' cause she was so good to +me. She taught me how to weave an' spin. 'Fore I was bigger'n a minute I +could do things dat lots o' de old han's couldn' come nigh doin'. She +an' Marse Bill had 'bout eight chillun, but mos' of 'em was grown when I +come 'long. Dey was all mighty good to me an' wouldn' 'low nobody to +hurt me.</p> + +<p>"I 'members one time when dey all went off an' lef' me wid a old black +woman call Aunt Ca'line what done de cookin' 'round de place some o' de +time. When dey lef' de house I went in de kitchen an' asked her for a +piece o' white bread lak de white folks eat. She haul off an' slap me +down an' call me all kin' o' names dat I didn' know what dey meant. My +nose bled an' ruint de nice clean dress I had on. When de Mistis come +back Marse George was wid 'er. She asked me what on earth happen to me +an' I tol' 'er. Dey call Ca'line in de room an' asked her if what I say +was de truf. She tell 'em it was, an' dey sent 'er away. I hear tell dat +dey whup her so hard dat she couldn' walk no mo'.</p> + +<p>"Us never had no big fun'als or weddin's on de place. Didn' have no +marryin' o' any kin'. Folks in dem days jus' sorter hitched up together +an' call deyse'ves man an' wife. All de cullud folks was buried on what +dey called Platnum Hill. Dey didn' have no markers nor nothin' at de +graves. Dey was jus' sunk in places. My brother Frank showed me once +where my mammy was buried. Us didn' have no preachin', or singin', or +nothin', neither. Us didn' even git to have meetin's on Sund'y less us +slip off an' go to some other plantation. Course, I got to go wid de +white folks sometime an' set in de back, or on de steps. Dat was whan I +was little.</p> + +<p>"Lots o' Niggers would slip off from one plantation to de other to see +some other Niggers. Dey would always manage to git back' fore daybreak. +De wors' thing I ever heard 'bout dat was once when my Uncle Alf run off +to 'jump de broom.' Dat was what dey called goin' to see a woman. He +didn' come back by daylight, so dey put de Nigger hounds after him. Dey +smelled his trail down in de swamp an' foun' where he was hidin'.</p> + +<p>"Now, he was one of da biggest Niggers on de place an' a powerful fas' +worker. But dey took an' give him 100 lashes wid de cat o' ninety-nine +tails. His back was somethin' awful, but dey put him in de fiel' to work +while de blood was still a-runnin'. He work right hard 'til dey lef'. +Den, when he got up to de end o' de row nex' to de swamp, he lit out +ag'in.</p> + +<p>"Dey never foun' 'im dat time. Dey say he foun' a cave an' fix him up a +room whar he could live. At nights he would come out on de place an' +steal enough t'eat an' cook it in his little dugout. When de war was +over an' de slaves was freed, he come out. When I saw him, he look lak a +hairy ape, 'thout no clothes on an' hair growin' all over his body.</p> + +<p>"Dem was pretty good days back in slav'ry times. My Marstar had a whole +passal o' Niggers on his place. When any of 'em would git sick dey would +go to de woods an' git herbs an roots an' make tea for 'em to drink. +Hogweed an' May apples was de bes' things I knowed of. Sometimes old +Mistis doctored 'em herse'f. One time a bunch o' us chillun was playin' +in de woods an foun' some o' dem May apples. Us et a lot of 'em an' got +awful sick. Dey dosed us up on grease an' Samson snake root to clean us +out. An' it sho' done a good job. I'se been a-usin' dat snake root ever +since.</p> + +<p>"De firs' thing dat I 'member hearin' 'bout de war was one day when +Marse George come in de house an' tell Miss Emmaline dat dey's gwine +have a bloody war. He say he feared all de slaves 'ud be took away. She +say if dat was true she feel lak jumpin' in de well. I hate to hear her +say dat, but from dat minute I started prayin' for freedom. All de res' +o' de women done de same.</p> + +<p>"De war started pretty soon after dat an' all de men folks went off an' +lef' de plantation for de women an' de Niggers to run. Us seen de sojers +pass by mos' ever' day. Once de Yankees come an' stole a lot o' de +horses an' somp'in' t'eat. Dey even took de trunk full o' 'Federate +money dat was hid in de swamp. How dey foun' dat us never knowed.</p> + +<p>"Marse George come home' bout two years after de war started an' married +Miss Martha Ann. Dey had always been sweethearts. Dey was promised 'fore +he lef'.</p> + +<p>"Marse Lincoln an' Marse Jeff Davis is two I 'members 'bout. But, +Lawzee! Dat was a long time back. Us liked Marse Jeff Davis de bes' on +de place. Us even made up a song 'bout him, but, I 'clare 'fore +goodness, I can't even 'member de firs' line o' dat song. You see, when +I got 'ligion, I asked de Lawd to take all de other songs out o' my head +an' make room for his word.</p> + +<p>"Since den it's de hardes' thing in de worl' for me to 'member de songs +us used to dance by. I do' member a few lak 'Shoo, Fly', 'Old Dan +Tucker', an' 'Run, Nigger, Run, de Pateroller Catch You.' I don' 'member +much o' de words. I does 'member a little o' 'Old Dan Tucker.' It went +dis way:</p> + +<pre> +'Old Don Tucker was a mighty mean man, +He beat his wife wid a fryin' pan. +She hollered an' she cried, "I's gwineter go, +Dey's plenty o' men, won't beat me so." + +'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, +You come too late to git yo' supper. + +'Old Dan Tucker, he got drunk, +Fell in de fire, kicked up a chunk, +Red hot coal got down his shoe +Oh, Great Lawd, how de ashes flew. + +'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, +You come too late to git yo' supper.' +</pre> + +<p>"When de war was over, my brother Frank slipped in de house where I was +still a-stayin'. He tol' me us was free an' for me to come out wid de +res'. 'Fore sundown dere warnt one Nigger lef' on de place. I hear tell +later dat de Mistis an' de gals had to git out an' work in de fiel's to +he'p gather in de crop.</p> + +<p>"Frank foun' us a place to work an' put us all in de fiel'. I never had +worked in de fiel' before. I'd faint away mos' ever'day 'bout eleven +o'clock. It was de heat. Some of 'em would have to tote me to de house. +I'd soon come to. Den I had to go back to de fiel'. Us was on Marse +Davis Cox's place den.</p> + +<p>"Two years later I met Pet Franks an' us married. De Cox's was good +folks an' give us a big weddin'. All de white folks an' de Niggers for +miles a-round come to see us git married. De Niggers had a big supper +an' had a peck t'eat. Us had eight chillun, but aint but three of 'em +livin'. Me an' Pet aint been a-livin' together for de las' twenty-three +years. Us jus' couldn' git 'long together, so us quit. He lives out at +Acker's Fishing Lodge now an' does de cookin' for 'em.</p> + +<p>"I never will forgit de Klu Klux Klan. Never will [TR: "I" deleted] +forgit de way dat horn soun' at night when dey was a-goin' after some +mean Nigger. Us'd all run an' hide. Us was livin' on de Troup place den, +near old Hamilton, in one o' de brick houses back o' de house whar dey +used to keep de slaves. Marse Alec Troup was one o' de Klu Klux's an' so +was Marse Thad Willis dat lived close by. Dey'd make plans together +sometime an' I'd hear 'em. One time dey caught me lis'nin', but dey +didn' do nothin' to me, 'cause dey knowed I warnt gwine tell. Us was all +good Niggers on his place.</p> + +<p>"Lawd, Miss, dese here young folks today is gwine straight to de Devil. +All dey do all day an' all night is run 'round an' drink corn likker an' +ride in automobiles. I'se got a grand-daughter here, an' she's dat wil'. +I worries a right smart 'bout her, but it don't do no good, 'cause her +mammy let her do jus' lak she please anyhow.</p> + +<p>"Den I tells you, de one thing I worries 'bout mos'. Dat is de white +folks what lives here 'mongst de Niggers. You know what kinda folks dey +is, an' it sho' is bad influence on 'em. You knows Niggers aint s'posed +to always know de right from de wrong. Dey aint got Marsters to teach +'em now. For de white folks to come down here an' do lak dey do, I tells +you, it aint right. De quality white folks ought-a do somethin' bout it.</p> + +<p>"I's had a right hard life, but I puts my faith in de Lawd an' I know +ever'thing gwine come out all right. I's lived a long life an' will soon +be a hund'ed, I guess. I's glad dat slav'ry is over, 'cause de Bible +don't say nothin' 'bout it bein right. I's a good Christian. I gits +sort-a res'less mos' o' de time an' has to keep busy to keep from +thinkin' too much."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="FranksPet"></a> +<h3>Pet Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +PET FRANKS<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Uncle Pet, 92 year old ex-slave, is the favorite of Ackers' Fishing +Lodge which is situated 14 miles north of Aberdeen, Monroe County. He is +low and stockily built. His ancestry is pure African. Scarcely topping +five feet one inch, he weighs about 150 pounds. Though he walks with the +slightest limp, he is still very active and thinks nothing of cooking +for the large groups who frequent the lodge. He has his own little +garden and chickens which he tends with great care.</p> + +<p>"I knows all 'bout slav'ry an' de war. I was right dere on de spot when +it all happened. I wish to goodness I was back dere now, not in de war, +but in de slav'ry times. Niggers where I lived didn' have nothin' to +worry 'bout in dem days. Dey aint got no sense now-a-days. All dey +b'lieves in now is drinkin' an' carousin'. Dey aint got no use for +nothin' but a little corn likker an' a fight. I dont b'lieve in no such +gwine-on, no sir-ree. Dat's de reason I stays out here by myse'f all de +time. I don't want to have nothin' to do wid 'em. I goes to town 'bout +once a mont' to git s'pplies, but I don' never fool 'roun' wid dem +Niggers den. I gits 'long wid my white folks, too. All da mens an' +wimmens what comes out to de club is pow'ful good to me.</p> + +<p>"I was born up near Bartley's Ferry right on de river. De way I +cal'clates my age makes me 'bout 92 years old. My firs' Marster was name +Mr. Harry Allen. He died when I was a boy an' I don't 'member much 'bout +him. De Mistis, dat was his wife, married ag'in an' dat husband's name +was Marse Jimmy Tatum. Dey was sho' good white folks. My mammy an' pappy +was name Martha an' Martin Franks. Marse Harry brung 'em down from +Virginny, I thinks. Or else he bought 'em from Marse Tom Franks in West +Point. Anyways dey come from Virginny an' I don't know which one of 'em +brought 'em down here. Dey did b'long to Marse Tom. I knows dat.</p> + +<p>"Bartley's used to be some place. My folks had a big hotel down on de +river bank. Dey was a heap of stores right on de bank, too. De river +done wash' em all 'way now. Dey aint nothin' lef'. But Lawdy! When I was +a kid de boats used to come a-sailin' up de river 'bout once a week an' +I used to know de names o' all de big ones. Dey would stop an' pick up a +load o' cotton to carry to Mobile. When dey come back dey would be +loaded wid all kin' o' gran' things.</p> + +<p>"Us chillun had a big time playin' roun' de dock. Us played 'Hide de +Switch' an' 'Goose and Gander' in de day time. Den at nighttime when de +moon was shinin' big an' yaller, us'd play 'Ole Molly Bright.' Dat was +what us call de moon. Us'd make up stories 'bout her. Dat was de bes' +time o' all. Sometimes de old folks would join in an' tell tales too. +Been so long I forgits de tales, but I know dey was good'ns.</p> + +<p>"When I got big 'nough to work I he'ped 'roun' de lot mostly. Fac' is +I'se worked right 'roun' white folks mos' all my days. I did work in de +fiel' some, but us had a good overseer. His name was Marse Frank Beeks +an' he was good as any white man dat ever lived. I don't never 'member +him whippin' one o' de slaves, leastways not real whippin's. I do +'member hearin' 'bout slaves on other places gittin' whipped sometimes. +I guess Niggers lak dat wished dey was free, but I didn' want to leave +my white folks, ever.</p> + +<p>"Us had preachin' an' singin'. Dey was some mighty good meetin's on de +place. Old Daddy Young was 'bout de bes' preacher us ever had. Dey was +plenty o' Niggers dere, 'cause it was a powerful big place. Old Daddy +could sho' make 'em shout an' roll. Us have to hol' some of 'em dey'd +git so happy. I knowed I had 'ligion when I got baptized. Dey took me +out in de river an' it took two of 'em to put me under. When I come up I +tol' 'em, 'turn me loose, I b'lieve I can walk right on top o' de +water.' Dey don' have no 'ligion lak dat now-a-days.</p> + +<p>"All de Niggers on de Tatum place had dey own patches where dey could +plant what ever day wanted to. Dey'd work 'em on Satu'd'ys. When dey +sol' anything from dey patch Mistis 'ud let 'em keep de money. When de +boats went down to Mobile us could sen' down for anything us want to +buy. One time I had $10.00 saved up an' I bought lots o' pretties wid +it. Us always had plenty t'eat, too. All de greens, eggs, wheat, corn, +meat, an' chitlins dat anybody'd want. When hog killin' time come us +always have some meat lef' over from de year befo'. Us made soap out of +dat.</p> + +<p>"When da war broke out I went right wid de Marster up to Corinth. I +stayed up dere in de camp for de longes' time a-waitin' on de sojers an' +nussing de sick ones. I never seen much o' de real fightin'. But I heard +de cannons roar an' I waited on de sojers what got wounded.</p> + +<p>"After dey moved camp de Marster sont me back home to he'p look after de +Mistis an' chillun. De 'Federates had some cattle hid 'way in us pasture +an' I looked after 'em. One night when I was comin' home I met 'bout a +hund'ed Yankees comin' over a hill. Dey saw de cattle an' took 'bout +ha'f of 'em. I skidooed. Dey aint kotched me yet.</p> + +<p>"After de war de Yankees called deyse'ves 'Publicans. Dey come down here +an' wanted all de Niggers to vote de 'Publican ticket. Den, lemme tell +you, I went to work for my white folks. Dey was a-holdin' big meetin's +an' speakin's, but I was workin', too. On 'lection day I brung in 1500 +Niggers to vote de Democrat ticket. De folks what saw us comin' over de +hill say us look like a big black cloud. I reckon us sounded lak one wid +all dat hollerin' an' shoutin'.</p> + +<p>"All my folks was dead soon, an' I went 'bout lak I was in a trance for +awhile. I went firs' one place an' den 'nother.</p> + +<p>"When I was on de Cox place I met Dora an' us married. Dat was a big +weddin' an' a big feas'. Den us moved over to de Troup place an' stayed +dere for a long spell. While us was dere I 'member de Klu Kluxers an' +all de carryin' on. Dey would dress up in white sheets an' come 'roun' +an' scare all de Niggers. Dey'd whip de bad ones. Some of 'em would git +cow horns an' put on dey heads. One time dey chased a Nigger plumb under +de house jus' a-playin' wid 'im. Dey was a-bellowin' jus' lak bulls.</p> + +<p>"I can't read an' write. I aint got much use for a Nigger wid a little +education. I went to school twict. De firs' teacher I had, dey come an' +carried to de pen for signin' his old Marster's name. De nex' teacher, +dey put in jail for stealin'. So I jus' 'cided twas jus' better for me +not to know how to read'n write, less'n I might git in some kinda +trouble, too.</p> + +<p>"Dora an' me is got three out o' eight chillun livin'. Dora an' me don' +live together no more. She likes to stay in town an' I aint got no +patience wid city slickers an' dey ways. She stays wid us gal, Nanny. I +stays out here. I goes in to see her 'bout once a mont'.</p> + +<p>"I don't git lonesome. Lawdee, no'm! I's got my two dogs. Den de white +folks is always a-comin' out here. Dey is good to me. Dey is one right +pert Nigger woman what lives down de road a-piece. Her name is Katie, +an' I goes down dere when I gits tired o' eatin' my own cookin'. She +sets a plumb good table, too."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="HenryNettie"></a> +<h3>NETTIE HENRY<br> +Meridian, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Nettie Henry, ex-slave, 19th Street, Meridian, Lauderdale County, is 82 +years old. She is five feet tall and weighs one hundred pounds.</p> + +<p>"De Chil's place was at Livingston, Alabama, on Alamucha Creek. Dat's +where I was born, but I jus' did git borned good when Miss Lizzie—she +was Marse Chil's girl—married Marse John C. Higgins an' moved to +Mer-ree-dian. Me an' my mammy an' my two sisters, Liza an' Tempe, was +give to Miss Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"I aint no country Nigger; I was raised in town. My mammy cooked an' +washed an' ironed an' done ever'thing for Miss Lizzie. She live right +where Miss Annie—she was Miss Lizzie's daughter—live now. But den de +house face Eighth Street 'stead o' Seventh Street, lak it do now. Day +warnt any other houses in dat block. 'Fore de Surrender, dey turnt de +house to face Seventh Street 'cause de town was growin' an' a heap o' +folks was buildin' houses. I tell you somp'in' 'bout Seventh Street in a +minute. Couldn' nobody dat lived in Mer-ree-dian right after de +Surrender ever forgit Seventh Street an' where it head to.</p> + +<p>"My pappy didn' go wid us to Mer-ree-dian. He b'longed to one set o' +white people, you see, an' my mammy b'longed to another. He'd come to +see us till de War started, den his folks jus' kinda went to Texas. I +don' know why zackly 'cep' maybe it warnt so healthy for 'em 'roun' +Livingston. Dey didn' go to de War or nothin'. I 'spec' nice white folks +talked 'bout 'em an' wouldn' have nothin' to do wid 'em. So dey took an' +went to Texas an' took my pappy wid 'em. But after de War he come back +to us, walked mos' all de way frum Texas. He rented some lan' frum Mr. +Ragsdale. My pappy built us a shack on dat lan'. It's tore down now, but +it was built good. Us all he'ped. I pulled a cross-cut saw an' toted de +boards up on de roof on a ladder. De chimley was built out o' mud an' +rocks. Den us moved in an' started growin' us somp'in t'eat. Us didn' +have no horse an' plow; Yankees done carried off all de horses an' mules +an' burnt up ever'dthing lak plows. Us dug up de groun' wide a grubbin' +hoe an' raised pun-kins an' plenty o' chickens an' ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"Us lived nice. My people was smart. My white people was good white +people. Dey warnt brutish; never whupped us or nothin' lak dat. I don' +know nothin' 'bout no meanness.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Higgins he died pretty soon an' Miss Lizzie went to teachin' +school. Her chillun—Miss Annie an' dem—would try to teach us. Den us +carried Blue Back Spellers to Sund'y school an' a old Baptist cullud +preacher would teach us out o' it. He say, 'de same words is in dis book +what's in de Bible. You chillun learn 'em de way dey is fixed for you to +learn 'em in dis here Blue Back Speller, den de firs' thing you know you +can read de Bible.' Use went to de white folk's church endurin' o' de +War an' right after. Any o' de white folks can tell you 'bout Mr. +Preacher Hamlin. He was a preacher an' a school teacher mixed. He had de +firs' boardin' school for young white ladies. It's standin' right dare +on Eighth [HW: No 7] Street right now. I 'members de firs' one to +gragurate[FN: graduate] frum it. Well, Mr. Hamlin 'nitiated my pappy +right dare in de white folks's church, de Firs' Baptis' Church; it burnt +up long time ago. My pappy was Isam Allbrook. He was de firs' cullud +deacon ordained in Mer-ree-dian.</p> + +<p>"I was ten years old at de Surrender, but I took notice. Dem was scarey +times an' when you is scared you takes trigger-notice. It was nex' to de +las' year o' de War 'fore Sherman got to Mer-ree-dian—not Sherman +hisse'f but his sojers. Dey burnt up dat big house on Eighth Street hill +an' built camps for de sojers in de flower garden. De cap'ns went an' +live at Marse Greer's house. Marse Greer had done sunk all de silver in +de duck pond an' hid out de horses an' cows in de big cane-brake what +used to be on dis side o' Sowashee Creek. But, Lor!, it didn' do no +good. Sherman done caught on by dat time 'bout how to fin' things. Dey +got ever'thing an' burned Marse Greer's barn. Day lef' de house an' +didn' bother de fam'ly 'cause dey called deyse'fs company. De good Lord +knows Marse Greer didn' 'vite 'em! But de Cap'ns bein' dere kep' de +rip-rap[FN: riff-raff] sojers frum tearin' up ever'thing.</p> + +<p>"When word come dat dey was comin', it soun' lak a moanin' win' in de +quarter. Ever'body was a-sayin', 'De Yankees is comin'! De Yankees is +comin'!' Us chullun was scared, but it was lak Sund'y, too,—nobody +doin' nothin'. Us march' 'roun' de room an' sorter sing-lak, 'De Yankees +is comin'! De Yankees is comin'!' Dey wouldn' let us out in de big road. +Well, dey come. Dey burn up seventy houses an' all de stores. Dey tore +up de railroad tracks an' toted off ever'thing dey couldn' eat. I don' +un'erstan' nothin' 'bout how come dey act lak dat. Us aint done nothin' +to 'em.</p> + +<p>"Well things kep' gittin' worse an' worse. After de Surrender Niggers +got mighty biggity. Mos' of 'em was glad jus' to feel free. Dey didn' +have no better sense. Dey forgot wouldn' be nobody to take care of 'em. +Things warnt healthy an' my mammy an' me kep' close to de white folks. +'Course, Tempe she was grown an' could do what she please. She sho' done +somp'in' when she married Cal. Dat was de meanes' Nigger! He nail up a +board over de gate pos' what say, 'No visitors allowed'. Sho' 'nough +didn' no visitors want to go to his house!</p> + +<p>"I don' know how come things got so unnatchel after de Surrender. +Niggers got to bein all kin' o' things what de Lawd didn' inten' 'em +for, lak bein' policemen an' all lak dat. It was scan'lous! 'Course, it +was de Yankees what done it. Dey promise to give ever'body forty acres +o' lan' an' a mule. A lot of 'em didn' have no better sense dan to +believe 'em. Dey'd go 'head an' do what de Yankees 'ud tell 'em. Well, +dey didn' give' em nothin', not even a rooster. Didn' give 'em +<u>nothin'</u> but trouble.</p> + +<p>"I don' know how come Mr. Theodore Sturges' brother was a Yankee. But +after de Surrender he come to Mer-ree-dian an' got to be Mayor. Didn' +none o' de white folks lak dat. Mr. Theodore didn' lak it hisse'f, but +nothin' he could do 'bout it. Things got so bad de Kloo-Kluxes[FN: Klu +Klux] started ridin' at night an' sposin'[FN: disposing] o' bad Niggers. +Den one Satu'd'y night Mr. Theodore's big sto' got set fiah to an' de +Mayor he tried to blame it on de Kloo-Kluxes. 'Course ever'body knowed +de Yankees done it. You see de Yankees was a-tryin' to git de Gov'nor to +run de Kloo-Kluxes out. Dat was one awful fiah. Near 'bout de whole town +burnt up down town an' ever' nice white man was down dare a-fightin' de +fiah.</p> + +<p>"Plenty o' Niggers was out, too, doin' devlishment. Three of 'em got +'rested an' dey had de trial Monday. In de meantime, all de +Yankee-lovin' Niggers had a big meetin' an' de loudes' mouf dere was dat +big buck Nigger Bill. He all time call hisse'f Dennis when he don' call +hisse'f Clopton. Here dey goes, all het up frum makin' speeches an' +a-drinkin', an' packs de courtroom full. When Mr. Patton got up on de +stan' an' say, he sho' done hear Bill Dennis say somp'in', Bill he +holler out, 'Dat's a lie!' Only he say a bad word dat I wouldn' say. Den +Mr. Patton raise up his walkin' stick an' start toward Bill. 'Bout den +Bill jerk out his pistol an' shoot at Mr. Patton. He miss Mr. Patton an' +hit Judge Bramlette. Yes'm, kilt him corpse-dead right dere on his high +pulpit chair!</p> + +<p>"'Bout dat time ever'thing bus' loose. Near 'bout all de white gent'mun +in de court room take a shot at Bill. He falls, but he aint dead yet. +Dey put him in de sheriff's office an' lef two white men wid him. But +things was a-happenin' so fas' by dat time dey couldn' stan' it. Dey +th'owed Bill out of dat two-story window an' run down to git in de +fight. De white folks was plumb wo' out by dat time wid all de +devilishment o' de Yankees an' de fool Niggers. Even a mean Nigger got +sense 'nough to know when he done gone too far. Dey all git away as fas' +as dey could an' scatter over town, den after dark dey come a-creepin' +back to de quarters. Dat was sho' de wronges' thing to do. Dat night, +all de sho' 'nough white men came a-marchin' out Seventh Street on dey +way to de quarters.</p> + +<p>"I had did up Miss Lizzie's parlor curtains dat very day an' de boy was +puttin' up de mouldin' frame 'roun' 'em when us hear dat trompin' soun'. +It didn' soun' lak no ever'day marchin'. It soun' lak Judgement Day. De +boy fell off de ladder an' run an' hid b'hind de flour barrel in de +pantry. Miss Lizzie was peepin' out 'twixt dem white lace curtains an' I +was right b'hin' 'er. I 'spec' Seventh Street was lined wid wimmin-folks +doin' jus' what us doin', 'cause dey husban's, sons, an' sweethearts was +out dere in dat march-line.</p> + +<p>"Well, dat night ended all de troubles. De line done stop at Mr. +Theodore Sturges' house' fore it git out far as us. 'Course, ever'body +know Mr. Theodore an' Miss Allie was sho' 'nough folks, but dey was +bound to have dat Yankee brother o' his'n.</p> + +<p>"De yard was plumb full o' white men ready to burn de house right down +on Miss Allie's head lessen dey'd give up dat Yankee Mayor. Mr. Theodore +come to de door an' say, 'Gent'mun, he aint here.' Aint nobody believe +dat. Dey was a-fixin' to bus' on in anyhow, when Miss Allie come out. +She come right down dem steps 'mongst all dem mad folks an' say, calm +an' lady-lak, 'Gent'mun, my brother-in-law is here, cert'ny. Where would +he go for safety 'cepn to his brother's house? But I give you my word +dat he gwine stay right here 'till you put him on de firs' train headin' +nawth. Den no mo' blood will be spilled.' An' dat's what dey done.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm it was all mighty bad, but plenty good things done happen in +Mer-ree-dian, too. I'se seen dis town grow frum nothin'. When us come +here 'fore de War, dey was hitchin' dey horses to little oak bushes +right in de middle o' town where de bigges' stores is now. I was a grown +girl by den an' could make horsemint tea for chills an' mullen leaves +for fever good as anybody; an' horehound tea for colds, bitter as gall. +I jus' now caught up how to cook an' sew.</p> + +<p>"I married when I was nineteen years old. I had nine chillun an' five of +'em's still livin'. Dey looks after me right nice, too. My son in +Chicago gimme dis house an' I lives here by myse'f. I keeps it nice an' +clean jus' lak I learnt how to do frum de white folks where I used to +work. I aint never work for no common folks. I tries to live lak a +Christian an' do jus' lak Old Mistis say. Den when I die I can go to +Heaven."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="HodgesFannie"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +Smith Hodges, Ex-Slave, Pike County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. W.F. Holmes<br> +<br> +[FANNY SMITH HODGES<br> +Berglundtown, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Fanny Smith Hodges lives in Berglundtown, in the northern part of town, +in the only Negro settlement within the corporate limits of McComb.</p> + +<p>"My name's Fanny Hodges. I was Fanny Smith befo' I was mar'ied. My mammy +was Jane Weathersby, an' she b'long ter old man Weathersby in Amite +County. He was de meanes' man what ever lived. My pappy was sol' befo' I +was born. I doan know nothin' 'bout him. I had one sister—her name was +Clara—and one brudder—his name was Jack. Dey said my pappy's name was +George. I doan know.</p> + +<p>"Mammy said when I was jes big 'nough to nuss an' wash leetle chulluns, +I was sol' to Marse Hiram Cassedy an' dat man give me ter his darter, +Miss Mary, to be her maid. De Cassedys sho' was good people. I was big +'nough to draw water, an' put it in a tub an' wash Miss Mary, Miss +Annie, an' Miss July. I had to keep 'em clean. I had to comb dey hair +an' dey would holler an' say I pulled. I was tol' not to let anything +hurt dem chulluns.</p> + +<p>"I slep' in de Quarters wid de other niggers. Befo' sunup I had to git +to de Big House ter dress dem chulluns. I doan' member whut kind of bed +I had, but reckin' it was good. I et in de kitchen. Dey fed fine. I et +whut de white folks lef', an' sometimes dey had 'possum an' taters. Dey +was good.</p> + +<p>"Marse Cassedy was a big Judge. He went to all de cou'ts, an' rode in a +fine carri'ge with two big horses hitched ter it, an' a driver. He wore +fine clo'es an' ever'body said he was a mighty big man. He had lots an' +lots of money. I doan know how many acres in his plantation, but he had +more'n 50 slaves.</p> + +<p>"When Marse Cassedy was gone, his oberseer would be hard on de slaves, +but Marse Cassedy would tell him not to be too hard. He never 'lowed his +driver to draw de blood when dey whupped. He fed his slaves. Dey all had +gardens and he tuk care of us. He had money in every one of us. De +oberseers was white men workin' fer wages.</p> + +<p>"I was never whupped afte' I went to Marse Cassedy. Slaves was whupped +when dey wouldn't work right. Sometimes dey was lazy. De oberseer blowed +a horn every mornin' and de slaves knowed to git up, an' when dat horn +blowed agin, dey knowed dey must go to de fiel'. Dey blowed de horn at +dinner an' night. Afte' supper, we set 'bout an' sing an go places. +Sometimes de men would steal off an' go ter other plantations, an' when +kotched dey got a whuppin'. If de pataroller got em, dey sho' kotched +it. Dey was whupped an' brung back.</p> + +<p>"De white folks had big dances in de Big House and de niggers played de +fiddle. Dey was fine times. Dey had good things ter eat, an' I allus got +some of whut was lef'. Christmas time de slaves had dances. I could sho' +shuffle my feet. Shucks, folks doan dance like dat any more.</p> + +<p>"When slaves was sick, dey went to de woods and got roots an' herbs ter +doctor 'em wid. If dey had runnin' off of de bowels, dey got red oak +barks an' boiled it an' made 'em drink it. It's de best thing right now +to cure runnin' off of de bowels. If young gals had pains in dey +stomachs dey made tea out'n gum bark and dat would bring 'em 'round. +When babies was born, dey had good midwives to wait on 'em. Dat was good +money.</p> + +<p>"When Miss July got mar'ied dey had two cooks in de kitchen makin' pound +cake fer more'n a week, an' pies, an' chicken pie, an' dey killed a hog. +Dey had ever'body in de country savin' butter an' eggs fer a long time. +I didn' see de weddin' but de yard was full and we had ever'thing to +eat.</p> + +<p>"My folks was rich. Marse Cassedy went to de War an' he was a big man +dere. He was gone a long time. Dey kep' tellin' us de Yankees was comin' +and Miss Fanny had her silver put in a bag and hid. Dey had de money put +in a wash pot and buried, an' dey ain't found dat money yet. Oh, dey had +<u>more</u> money! Didn' I tell you dey was rich? No mam, dey wasn't po' +when war was over. Dey had ever'thing. When de Yankees come, dey carried +off all de meat in de smokehouse, an' de blanket an' quilts, an' every +thing dey wanted, dey he'ped deyse'ves. None of de slaves went wid' em.</p> + +<p>"When Marse Cassedy come home he had de oberseer blow de horn 'bout ten +o'clock and tol' 'em all dey was freed. He said he'd work 'em fer wages, +an' nearly everyone of 'em stayed fer wages. I stayed wid Miss Mary +'bout ten years. Den I mar'ied. No, Jake an' me rid horse back an' went +to Magnolia an' got mar'ied. I doan know who mar'ied us—somebody in de +cou't house.</p> + +<p>"Me an' Jake went to Summit ter live'. We had to work mighty hard. +Sometimes I plowed in de fiel' all day; sometimes I washed an' den I +cooked, an' afte' 'while, we moved down to de new town. I come here when +dis town fust started. I cooked fer Mrs. Badenhauser, while he was mayor +of de town. Dey worked me hard. Me'n Jake's had some hard ups an' downs. +I had fo' chullun, none of dem livin' dat I know of. I might have some +grandchulluns but if I do, dey live up North.</p> + +<p>"I'm old an' can hardly git about. I'se got a cancer. De doctor done cut +my lef' brest clear offen me, but dat hurts me somtimes yit.</p> + +<p>"I niver jined any church 'til 'bout 20 year ago, right here in +Berglundtown. My church is Flowery Mount Baptist Church, an' my Brudder +Washin'ton is my pastor, an' he is de best preacher what ever lived. No, +Marse Cassedy didn't have no church fer de slaves. Dey went to de white +folks' church.</p> + +<p>"How do I live? Well I gits a pension of fo' dollars a month, an' I try +to wash a leetle fer de colored folks, an' den I beg. I can't stay here +long but God won't low me to starve. Bless God, he's comin' fer me some +day."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="HollidayWayne"></a> +<h3>Wayne Holliday, Ex-slave Monroe County<br> +Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Richard Kolb<br> +<br> +[WAYNE HOLLIDAY<br> +Aberdeen, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>"I was born an' raised in Aberdeen an' I'se been a railroad nigger fo' +mos' of my days. I'se retired now 'cause dey say I too old to work any +longer, but shucks, I ain't half dead yet. I was born in 1853 right here +close to whar I live now. My folks b'longed to de Hollidays—you know de +grand folks of Miss Maria Evans? An' we stayed right dere in de lot whar +de white folks lived.</p> + +<p>"My pa an' my ma was named Frank an' Sarah Holliday an' de Cunel brung +dem wid him frum North Car'lina. Dey was lot niggers an' never worked in +de fiel' or lived in de Quarters. My pa was one of de best carpenters in +de country. I was too young to work much but sometime I he'ped him +'roun' de house but mos' of de time, I jes played wid my brudders an' +sisters an' de white chullun what lived aroun'. We played marbles, +ridin' de stick hoss, an' play house jes lak de chullun do now days, but +I think we had mo' fun. Dey was fo'teen of us in our family an' we allus +had somebody to play wid. An' den li'l Marse Ben, he wa'nt much older +dan us.</p> + +<p>"Our marster's name was Cunel John Holiday. He got dat title in a war +before de slav'ry war. He was too old to fight in dat one, or I spect +he'd got another title, lak Gen'ral or somethin'. He an' Miss Julia—dat +was his wife—was mighty good to us an' so was Marse Tom and Marse Ben, +an' Miss Maria an' all. When de Cunel fust come to Mississippi he bought +a plantation in de prairies an' lived dere for a while. But later he +'cided to build him a house in town so he got my pa to he'p him build it +an' it was one of de purtiest houses in Aberdeen. It look jes lak it +allus did to me now. Co'se dey is worked on it several times since den, +but dey ain't changed it at all.</p> + +<p>"My mammy did de cookin' for de white folks dere. Dey all thought a lot +of her. I never knowed much what slav'ry was 'bout, to tell de truf. De +folks never treated us wrong an' chullun in dem days didn' get to run +aroun' lak dey do today an' we didn' get to hear no gossip 'bout de +other niggers. Since we didn' live in no quarters we didn' hear nothin. +Our folks never said nothin' 'cause dey was very well satisfied lak dey +was. We never hear of no whuppin's, or runaways either, 'til afte' de +War an' when we got older.</p> + +<p>"I 'member de War tho'. Marse Tom, he went fust, wid de Van Dorns. He +was made a capt'in or somethin' 'cause he was so brave. He fought long +wid de fust an' was one of de fust to get hit. Dey brung his body all de +way from Richmond, or Virginny, I fergit which, and lawzy, if de Cunel +an' de Miss didn' take on somethin' awful. Dey sho' loved dat boy an' so +did all of de niggers. Afte' dey buried him dey took his sword an' hung +it on de wall of de parlor. I reckin it still dar.</p> + +<p>"Marse Ben went afte' dat. He was jes old 'nough to go but he went an' +fought jes de same. He come back when de war was over an' dey was sho' +some rejoicin'.</p> + +<p>"Time wa'nt much diffrunt den dan it was 'fo de War. We stayed on wid +our folks for a long time. Den my pa started gettin' a li'l work here +an' dar an' purty soon he got all his chullun started out purty well. We +all went to de colored school what dey had down whar de railroad +crossin' is now, an' dat was whar I l'arned to read an' write. I didn' +marry for a good while an' den I went to work on de I.C. Railroad. I was +fust a coal heaver an' den a coach porter. I was faithful to my job an' +made good money an' soon built me a house of my own whar I raised my +family. I sent all my chullun to school an' dey is doin' well. My wife +worked right 'long wid me. She died 'bout two years ago.</p> + +<p>"I'se thankful I ain't got no sad mem'ries 'bout slav'ry times an' dat I +an' my folks is done as well as dey have. T'is de work of de Lawd."</p> + +<p>Wayne Holliday, who lived in slavery times, and whose father was a +slave, is 84 years old, a dried-up looking Negro of light tan color, +approximately 5 feet three inches high and weighing about 130 pounds, he +is most active and appears much younger than he really is. He is +slightly bent; his kinky hair is intermingled white and gray; and his +broad mouth boasts only one visible tooth, a particularly large one in +the extreme center of his lower gum.</p> + +<p>Wayne has the manner of a Negro of the old South and depicts, in his +small way, the gallantry of an age gone by.</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="JohnsonPrince"></a> +<h3>Prince Johnson, Ex-slave, Coahoma County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. Carrie Campbell<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +PRINCE JOHNSON<br> +Clarksdale, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Yes mam, I sho' can tell you all 'bout it 'cause I was dere when it all +happened. My gran'pa, Peter, gran'ma, Millie, my pa, John, an' my ma, +Frances, all come from Alabama to Yazoo County to live in de Love +fam'ly. Dey names was Dennis when day come, but, after de custom o' dem +days, dey took de name of Love from dey new owner. Me an' all o' my +brothers an' sisters was born right dere. Dey was eleven head o' us. I +was de oldes'. Den come Harry, John, William, Henry, Phillis, Polly, +Nellie, Virginny, Millie, an' de baby, Ella.</p> + +<p>"Us all lived in de quarters an' de beds was home made. Dey had wooden +legs wid canvas stretched 'crost 'em. I can't 'member so much 'bout de +quarters 'cause 'bout dat time de young miss married Colonel Johnson an' +moved to dis place in Carroll County. She carried wid her over one +hund'ed head o' darkies.</p> + +<p>"Den us names was changed from Love to Johnson. My new marster was sure +a fine gent'man. He lived in a big two-story white house dat had big +white posts in front. De flowers all' roun' it jus' set it off.</p> + +<p>"Marster took me for de house boy. Den I sho' carried my head high. He'd +say to me, 'Prince does you know who you is named for?' An' I'd say to +him, 'Yes sir. Prince Albert.' An' den he'd say to me, 'Well, always +carry yo'se'f lak he did.' To dis good day I holds myse'f lak Marster +said.</p> + +<p>"On certain days o' de week one o' de old men on de place took us house +servants to de fiel' to learn us to work. Us was brought up to know how +to do anything dat come to han'. Marster would let us work at odd times +for outsiders an' us could use de money for anything us pleased. My +gran'ma sol' 'nough corn to buy her two feather beds.</p> + +<p>"Us always had plenty t'eat. De old folks done de cookin' for all de +fiel' han's, 'cept on Sund'y when ever' fam'ly cooked for dey ownse'fs. +Old Mis' 'ud come over ever' Sund'y mornin' wid sugar an' white flour. +Us 'ud mos' ingen'ally have fish, rabbits, 'possums, or coons. Lord, +chil'! Dem 'possums was good eatin'. I can tas' 'em now.</p> + +<p>"Folks dese days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin'. My marster had a +great big garden for ever'body an' I aint never seen such 'taters as +growed in dat garden. Dey was so sweet de sugar 'ud bus' right th'ough +de peelin' when you roasted 'em in de ashes.</p> + +<p>"Old Aunt Emily cooked for all de chillun on de place. Ha'f a hour by de +sun, dey was all called in to supper. Dey had pot likker an' ash cake +an' such things as would make 'em grow.</p> + +<p>"Chillun den didn' know nothin' 'bout all de fancy ailments what chillun +have now. Dey run an' played all day in dey shirt tails in de summer +time. When winter come dey had good warm clo'es[FN: clothes] same as us +older ones.</p> + +<p>"One day Marster's chillun an' de cullud chillun slipped off to de +orchard. Dey was jus' a-eatin' green apples fas' as dey could when 'long +come de master, hisse'f. He lined 'em all up, black an' white alike, an' +cut a keen switch. Twant a one in dat line dat didn' git a few licks. +Den he called de old doctor woman an' made 'er give 'em ever' one a dose +o' medicine. Dey didn' a one of' em git sick.</p> + +<p>"Marster an' Old Mis' had five chillun. Dey is all dead an' gone now, +an' I's still here. One o' his sons was a Supreme Judge 'fore he died.</p> + +<p>"My folks was sho' quality. Marster bought all de little places 'roun' +us so he wouldn' have no po' white trash neighbors. Yes sir! He owned +'bout thirty-five hund'ed acres an' at leas' a hund'ed an' fifty slaves.</p> + +<p>"Ever' mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock us could hear dat horn blow for us to +git up an' go to de fiel'. Us always quit work 'fore de sun went down +an' never worked at night. De overseer was a white man. His name was +Josh Neighbors, but de driver was a cullud man, 'Old Man Henry.' He +wasn't 'lowed to mistreat noboby. If he got too uppity dey'd call his +han', right now. De rule was, if a Nigger wouldn' work he mus' be sol'. +'Nother rule on dat place was dat if a man got dissati'fied, he was to +go to de marster an' ask him to put 'im in his pocket.' Dat meant he +wanted to be sol' an' de money he brought put in de marster's pocket. I +aint never known o' but two askin' to be 'put in de pocket.' Both of 'em +was sol'.</p> + +<p>"Dey had jails in dem days, but dey was built for white folks. No cullud +person was ever put in one of 'em 'til after de war. Us didn' know +nothin' 'bout dem things.</p> + +<p>"Course, Old Mis' knowed 'bout 'em, 'cause she knowed ever'thing. I +recollec' she tol' me one day dat she had learnin' in five diffe'ent +languages.</p> + +<p>"None o' us didn' have no learnin' atall. Dat is us didn' have no book +learnin'. Twant no teachers or anything lak dat, but us sho' was taught +to be Christians. Ever'thing on dat place was a blue stockin' +Presbyterian. When Sund'y come us dressed all clean an' nice an' went to +church. Us went to de white folks' church an' set in de gal'ry.</p> + +<p>"Us had a fine preacher. His name was Gober. He could sho' give out de +words o' wisdom. Us didn' have big baptisins lak was had on a heap o' +places, 'cause Presbyterians don't go down under de water lak de Baptis' +do. If one o' de slaves died he was sho' give a gran' Christian fun'al. +All o' us mourners was on han'. Services was conducted by de white +preacher.</p> + +<p>"Old Mis' wouldn' stan' for no such things as voodoo an' ha'nts. When +she 'spected[FN: inspected] us once a week, you better not have no charm +'roun' yo' neck, neither. She wouldn' even 'low[FN: allow] us wear a bag +o' asfittidy[FN: asafetida]. Mos' folks b'lieved dat would keep off +sickness. She called such as dat superstition. She say us was 'lightened +Christian Presbyterians, an' as such us mus' conduc' ourse'fs.</p> + +<p>"Nobody worked after dinner on Satu'd'y. Us took dat time to scrub up +an' clean de houses so as to be ready for 'spection Sund'y mornin'. Some +Satu'd'y nights us had dances. De same old fiddler played for us dat +played for de white folks. An' he sho' could play. When he got dat old +fiddle out you couldn' keep yo' foots still.</p> + +<p>"Christ'mus was de time o' all times on dat old plantation. Dey don't +have no such as dat now. Ever' chil' brought a stockin' up to de Big +House to be filled. Dey all wanted one o' de mistis' stockin's, 'cause +now she weighed nigh on to three hund'ed pounds. Candy an' presents was +put in piles for ever' one. When dey names was called dey walked up an' +got it. Us didn' work on New Year's Day. Us could go to town or anywhere +us wanted to.</p> + +<p>"De mos' fun was de corn shuckin'. Dey was two captains an' each one +picked de ones he wanted on his side. Den de shuckin' started. You can't +make mention o' nothin good dat us didn' have t'eat after de shuckin'. I +still studies' bout dem days now.</p> + +<p>"Dey was big parties at de white folks' house, me, all dressed up wid +taller[FN: tallow] on my face to make it shine, a-servin' de gues'es[FN: +guests].</p> + +<p>"One time, jus' when ever'thing was a-goin' fine, a sad thing happened. +My young mistis, de one named for her ma, ups an' runs off wid de son o' +de Irish ditch digger an' marries 'im. She wouldn' a-done it if dey'd +a-let 'r marry de man she wanted. Dey didn' think he was good 'nough for +her. So jus' to spite' em, she married de ditch digger's son.</p> + +<p>"Old Mis' wouldn' have nothin' more to do wid 'er, same as if she warnt +her own chil'. But I'd go over to see 'er an' carry milk an' things out +o' de garden.</p> + +<p>"It was pitiful to see my little miss poor. When I couldn' stan' it no +longer I walks right up to Old Mis' an' I says, 'Old Mis', does you know +Miss Farrell aint got no cow.' She jus' act lak she aint hear'd me, an' +put her lips together dat tight. I couldn' do nothin' but walk off an' +leave her. Pretty soon she called, 'Prince!' I says, 'Yes mam.' She +says, 'Seein' you is so concerned 'bout Miss Farrell not havin' no cow, +you better take one to 'er.' I foun' de rope an' carried de bes' cow in +de lot to Miss Farrell.</p> + +<p>"Shortly after dat I lef' wid Old Marster to go to North Carolina. Jus' +'fore de war come on, my marster called me to' im an' tol' me he was +a-goin' to take me to North Carolina to his brother for safe keepin'. +Right den I knowed somethin' was wrong. I was a-wishin' from de bottom +o' my heart dat de Yankees 'ud stay out o' us business an' not git us +all 'sturbed in de min'.</p> + +<p>"Things went on at his brother's place 'bout lak dey done at home. I +stayed dere all four years o' de war. I couldn' leave 'cause de men +folks all went to de war an' I had to stay an' pertec' de women folks.</p> + +<p>"De day peace was declared wagon loads o' people rode all th'ough de +place a-tellin' us 'bout bein' free. De old Colonel was killed in battle +an' his wife had died. De young marster called us in an' said it was all +true, dat us was free as he was, an' us could leave whenever us got +ready. He said his money warnt no good anymore an' he dida' have no +other to pay us wid.</p> + +<p>"I can't recollec' if he got new money an' paid us or not, but I do +'member ever' las' one o' us stayed.</p> + +<p>"I never lef' dat place' til my young marster, Mr. Jim Johnson, de one +dat was de Supreme Judge, come for me. He was a-livin' in South Carolina +den. He took us all home wid 'im. Us got dere in time to vote for +Gov'nor Wade Hamilton. Us put 'im in office, too. De firs' thing I done +was join de Democrat Club an' hoped[FN: helped] 'em run all o' de +scalawags away from de place. My young marster had always tol' me to +live for my country an' had seen 'nought of dat war to know jus' what +was a-goin' on.</p> + +<p>"I'se seen many a patrol in my lifetime, but dey dassent come on us +place. Now de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Ku Kluxes] was diff'ent. I rid[FN: rode] +wid' em many a time. 'Twas de only way in dem days to keep order.</p> + +<p>"When I was 'bout twenty-two year old, I married Clara Breaden. I had +two chilluns by her, Diana an' Davis. My secon' wife's name was Annie +Bet Woods. I had six chillun by her: Mary, Ella, John D., Claud William, +an' Prince, Jr. Three boys an' two gals is still livin'. I lives wid my +daughter, Claud, what is farmin' a place 'bout five miles from +Clarksdale. I has' bout fifteen head o' gran'chillun an' ever' las' one +of 'em's farmers.</p> + +<p>"Things is all peaceful now, but de worl' was sho' stirred up when +Abraham Lincoln was 'lected. I 'member well when dey killed 'im. Us had +a song' bout 'im dat went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +'Jefferson Davis rode de milk white steed, +Lincoln rode de mule. +Jeff Davis was a mighty fine man, +An' Lincoln was a fool.' +</pre> + +<p>"One o' de little gals was a-singin' dat song one day an' she mixed dem +names up. She had it dat Marse Davis was de fool. I'se laughed 'bout dat +many a time. When Mistis finished wid' er she had sho' broke her from +suckin' eggs.</p> + +<p>"I knows all 'bout what slave uprisin's is, but never in my life has I +seen anything lak dat. Never! Never! Where I was brought up de white man +knowed his place an' de Nigger knowed his'n[FN: his]. Both of' em stayed +in dey place. We aint never had no lynchin's, neither.</p> + +<p>"I know all 'bout Booker T. Washington. He come to de state o' +Mississippi once an' hel' a meetin' in Jackson. He made a gran' talk. He +made mention 'bout puttin' money in de bank. Lots o' darkies made +'membrance o' dat an' done it. He tol' us de firs' thing us had to learn +was to work an' dat all de schoolin' in de worl' wouldn' mean nothin' if +us didn' have no mother wit[FN: energy & common sense]. It's a pity us +aint got more folks lak him to guide us now dat us aint got no marster +an' mistis to learn us.</p> + +<p>"I's a Nigger what has been prosperous. I made a-plenty cotton an' I +teached my chillun to be good blue stockin' Presbyterians. All 'roun' de +country I was knowed an' ever'body b'lieved in me.</p> + +<p>"Maybe things is better lak dey is today. Mos' folks says so anyway. But +if Old Marster were a-livin' I'd be better off. I know dat to be so.</p> + +<p>"I can hear 'im say to me new, 'Prince Albert, who is you named for? +Well den hol' yo' head high so folks can see you is quality.'"</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="KennedyHamp"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[HAMP KENNEDY<br> +Mahned, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>Uncle Hamp Kennedy, a farmer, 78 years old, weighs about 135 pounds, and +is about 5 feet 9 inches high. His head is bald with a little gray fuzz +over his ears and growing low toward the nape of his neck. He does not +wear spectacles nor smoke a pipe. His face is clean shaven.</p> + +<p>Physically active, he does not use a crutch or cane and his hearing, +eyesight, and mind appear alert. The old Negro cannot read or write, but +he has a remarkable memory. He seems very happy in his little cabin +where he and his wife live alone, and his eyes beam with interest when +he remembers and discusses slavery times.</p> + +<p>"I was jes a little nigger when de War broke out—'bout fo' years ol', +my white folks say. I had a sister an' three brudders. My mammy an' +pappy was Mary Kennedy an' Lon Kennedy. My mammy was Mary Denham befo' +she mar'ied. I was born an' raised at Mahned, Mississippi. Old Miss Bill +Griffin was my missus.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees sho' come to our house—yes sir, dey did. De fust time dey +kotched our hogs an' cut off de hind part an' take hit wid' em. De front +part dey lef' in de fiel'. Dey carries corn in de saddle bags an' +throwed hit out to de chickens. Den when de chickens come up to eat dey +kotched 'em by de head an' wring hit off an' take all de chickens wid +'em.</p> + +<p>"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses +in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey +hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef' +dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an' +orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none.</p> + +<p>"One time I 'member when Aunt Charity an' Winnie McInnis, two niggers on +our plantation, tried to swim some of our hosses cross de riber to save +'em frum de soljers an' dey rode 'cross in a little boat. Well, when de +hosses got in de middle of de water, up comes a' gator[FN: alligator], +grabs one hoss by de ear, an' we ain't neber seed him no mo'.</p> + +<p>"When niggers run 'way frum de plantation dey was whupped, but dey had +to go to da sheriff to be whupped. De sheriff, he would tie de nigger to +a tree an' whup him till de blood run out.</p> + +<p>"'Bout de only recr'ation us niggers had in dem days was candy pullin's. +We all met at one house an' tol' ghost stories, sung plantation songs, +an' danced de clog while de candy was cookin'. Dem was de good old days. +Dey don't do dem things no mo'.</p> + +<p>"When a nigger died, we had a wake an' dat was diffrunt too frum whut +'tis today. Dey neber lef' a dead nigger 'lone in de house, but all de +neighbors was dere an' hoped[FN: helped]. Dey turned de mirrors to de +wall 'cause dey say once a long time ago, a nigger died an' three days +afte'wards his people looked in a mirror an' dere dey see da dead nigger +plain as day in de mirror.</p> + +<p>"At da wake we clapped our han's an' kep' time wid our feet—<u>Walking +Egypt</u>, dey calls hit—an' we chant an' hum all night 'till de nigger +was <u>funeralized</u>.</p> + +<p>"If we heerd a little old shiverin' owl[FN: screech owl] we'd th'ow salt +in de fire an' th'ow a broom 'cross de do' fer folks say dat 'twas a +sign of bad luck, an' a charm had to be worked fas' to keep sumpin' +terrible frum happenin', an' if a <u>big owl</u> hollered, we wasn't +'lowed to say one word.</p> + +<p>"Fire was 'bout de hardes' thing fer us to keep. Dere wa'nt no matches +in dem days, an' we toted fire frum one plantation to 'nother when hit +burned out. We put live coals in pans or buckets an' toted it home.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes we put heavy waddin' in a old gun an' shot hit out into a +brush heap an' then blowed the sparks' til de fire blazed. Ever'body had +flint rocks too, but few niggers could work 'em an' de ones dat could +allus had dat job to do.</p> + +<p>"My gran'mammy come frum South Ca'lina an' libed fust at New Augusta, +Mississippi. She used to pick big Catawba leaves an' roll her dough in +'em an' bake hit in a log heap, pilin' ashes over hit. Some called hit +ash cakes an' hit sho' was good. Nothin' lak hit dese days—no sir.</p> + +<p>"We had plen'y to eat—smoke sausage, beef, home made lard, an'—yes +sir, possum when we wanted hit.</p> + +<p>"We didn' git any pay fer our work but we had plen'y to eat an' clo'es +to wear, our clo'es was coarse but good. Most of 'em was wove on de +looms an' our socks an' stockings was knitted by de wimmin. De white +folks though, dey wear linen an' fine silk clo'es fer de big times. We +made blankets—coverlets, too.</p> + +<p>"We had 'bout 60 slaves on our place, an' if a nigger man on one +plantation fall in love wid a slave girl on 'nother place, dey jus' come +to her plantation an' jump ober de broom an' den dey is mar'ied. De +slabes never had preachers lak dey do at weddin's dese days. If de girl +didn't love de boy an' he jumped ober de broom an' she didn't, den dey +wa'nt mar'ied.</p> + +<p>"Dere was no schools in dem days either, an' I can't read an' write +today. Some of de white folks taught de younger niggers an' den dey tuk +dey lessons an' studied at dey cabin of nights afte' dey had finished +work.</p> + +<p>"We had prayer meetin's in each others houses durin' de week. One +plantation owner built a little church on his place an' de niggers, dey +go in de back do' an' sit in de back, an' white folks dey come in de +front of de church an' sit. De Presbyterin chu'ch was de only one 'round +dere an' dey sprinkled ever'body—jes poured water ober dey heads frum a +glass an' den patted hit hit in (demonstrated).</p> + +<p>"'Twas funny—one time Joe an' Green, two niggers on our place, et dey +supper an' run 'way at night an' afte' dey was kotched, dey tol' us dat +when dey was passin' through de woods dat night a great big old +gran'daddy owl flopped his wings an' Joe said 'we'd better turn back.' I +allus heard hit was bad luck fer to hear a owl floppin' lack dat, but +Green said 'twant nothin', jes a old owl floppin', but he jes naturally +flopped diffrunt dat night, an' Green walked on 'bout 15 steps an' +somebody shot him dead. Joe said he tu'ned back an' run home.</p> + +<p>"All our niggers had to have passes to leave de plantation an' when de +pataroller kotched 'em wid out'n a pass, de nigger was whupped. +Sometimes de plantation owner did hit an' sometimes de sheriff. Dey used +a long leather strop cut at de ends.</p> + +<p>"We used snake root, hohound weed, life everlastin' weed, horse mint, +an' sassafras as medicine.</p> + +<p>"When de War was right on us, grub was scarce an' sometimes little +niggers only had clabber milk an' dey et it in de trough wid de pigs, +an' sometimes dey only had pie crusts an' bread crusts at night when dey +et on de cabin flo'. Dem was hard times afte' de War.</p> + +<p>"'Nother time one nigger run 'way frum our plantation an' hid by day an' +traveled by night so de nigger dogs wouldn't git him an' he hid in a +hollow tree. Dere was three cubs down in dat tree an' hit was so slick +inside an' so high 'til he couldn't clim' out, an' afte' while de ole +bear came back an' throw in half a hog. Den she go 'way an' come ag'in +an' throw in de other half. 'Bout a hour later, she came back an' crawl +in back'ards herse'f. De nigger inside de tree kotched her by de tail +an' pulled hisself out. Hit scared de bear so 'til she run in one +direction an' de nigger in 'nother. But de nigger, he run in de +direction of his marster's place an' said he'd neber run off again as +long as he libed.</p> + +<p>"I can't 'member de old songs but dese niggers today can't sing lak dat +neither 'cause dey ain't libed back dere, an' dey can't feel hit lak us +old folks. Dem was de good old days allright, an' dey was hard days +too."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="LucasJames"></a> +<h3>JAMES LUCAS<br> +Natchez, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>James Lucas, ex-slave of Jefferson Davis, lives at Natchez, Adams +County. Uncle Jim is small, wrinkled, and slightly stooped. His woolly +hair is white, and his eyes very bright. He wears a small grizzled +mustache. He is always clean and neatly dressed.</p> + +<p>"Miss, you can count up for yo'se'f. I was born on October 11, 1833. My +young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope'ty of his uncle, +Marse W.B. Withers. He was a-goin' through de papers an' a-burnin' some +of 'em when he foun' de one 'bout me. Den he says, 'Jim, dissen's 'bout +you. It gives yo' birthday.'</p> + +<p>"I recollec' a heap' bout slav'ry-times, but I's all by myse'f now. All +o' my frien's has lef' me. Even Marse Fleming has passed on. He was a +little boy when I was a grown man.</p> + +<p>"I was born in a cotton fiel' in cotton pickin' time, an' de wimmins +fixed my mammy up so she didn' hardly lose no time at all. My mammy sho' +was healthy. Her name was Silvey an' her mammy come over to dis country +in a big ship. Somebody give her de name o' Betty, but twant her right +name. Folks couldn' un'erstan' a word she say. It was some sort o' +gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an' it soun' <u>dat</u> funny. My +pappy was Bill Lucas.</p> + +<p>"When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on +de week-a-days. Dey was long an' had big collars. When de seams ripped +de hide would show through. When I got big enough to wait 'roun' at de +Big House an' go to town, I wore clean rough clo'es. De pants was white +linsey-woolsey an' de shirts was rough white cotton what was wove at de +plantation. In de winter de sewin' wimmins made us heavy clothes an' +knit wool socks for us. De wimmins wore linsey-woolsey dresses an' long +leggin's lak de sojers wear. Dis was a long narrow wool cloth an' it +wropt 'roun' an' 'roun' dey legs an' fas'n at de top wid a string.</p> + +<p>"I never went to no church, but on Sund'ys a white man would preach an' +pray wid us an' when he'd git through us went on 'bout us own business.</p> + +<p>"At Chris'mus de Marster give de slaves a heap o' fresh meat an' whiskey +for treats. But you better not git drunk. No-sir-ree! Den on Chris'mus +Eve dey was a big dance an' de white folks would come an' see de one +what dance de bes'. Marster an' Mistis laugh fit to kill at de capers us +cut. Den sometimes dey had big weddin's an' de young white ladies +dressed de brides up lak dey was white. Sometimes dey sont to N'awleans +for a big cake. De preacher married' em wid de same testimony[FN: +ceremony] dey use now. Den ever'body'd have a little drink an' some +cake. It sho' was larrupin'[FN: very good][HW:?]. Den ever'body'd git +right. Us could dance near 'bout all night. De old-time fiddlers played +fas' music an' us all clapped han's an' tromped an' sway'd in time to de +music. Us sho' made de rafters ring.</p> + +<p>"Us slaves didn' pay no 'tention to who owned us, leastways de young +ones didn'. I was raised by a marster what owned a heap o' lan's. Lemme +see, dey is called Artonish, Lockdale, an' Lockleaven. Dey is +plantations 'long de river in Wilkinson County, where I was raised. Dey +is all 'long together.</p> + +<p>"I's sho' my firs' marster was Marse Jim Stamps an' his wife was Miss +Lucindy. She was nice an' sof'-goin'. Us was glad when she stayed on de +plantation.</p> + +<p>"Nex' thing I knowed us all b'longed to Marse Withers. He was from de +nawth an' he didn' have no wife. (Marsters wid-out wives was de debbil. +I knows a-plenty what I oughtn' tell to ladies. Twant de marsters whut +was so mean. Twas dem po' white trash overseers an' agents. Dey was +mean; dey was meaner dan bulldogs. Yes'm, wives made a big diffe'nce. +Dey was kin' an' went 'bout mongst de slaves a-lookin' after 'em. Dey +give out food an' clo'es an' shoes. Dey doctered de little babies.) When +things went wrong de wimmins was all de time puttin' me up to tellin' de +Mistis. Marse D.D. Withers was my young marster. He was a little man, +but ever'body stepped when he come 'roun'.</p> + +<p>"Don' rightly know how it come 'bout. Lemme see! De bes' I 'member my +nex' Marster was Pres'dent Jefferson Davis hisse'f. Only he warnt no +pres'dent den. He was jus' a tall quiet gent'man wid a pretty young wife +what he married in Natchez. Her name was Miss Varina Howell, an' he sho' +let her have her way. I spec I's de only one livin' whose eyes ever seed +'em bofe. I talked wid her when dey come in de big steamboat. 'Fore us +got to de big house, I tol' her all 'bout de goins'-on on de +plantations. She was a fine lady. When I was a boy 'bout thirteen years +old dey took me up de country toward Vicksburg to a place call +Briarsfield. It mus'-a been named for her old home in Natchez what was +called 'de Briars.' I didn' b'long to Marse Jeff no great while, but I +aint never fo'git de look of 'im. He was always calm lak an' savin' on +his words. His wife was jus' de other way. She talked more dan a-plenty.</p> + +<p>"I b'lieves a bank sol' us nex' to Marse L.Q. Chambers. I 'members him +well. I was a house-servant an' de overseer dassent hit me a lick. +Marster done lay de law down. Mos' planters lived on dey plantations +jus' a part o' de year. Dey would go off to Saratogy an' places up +nawth. Sometimes Marse L.Q. would come down to de place wid a big wagon +filled wid a thousan' pair o' shoes at one time. He had a nice wife. One +day whilst I was a-waitin' on de table I see old Marse lay his knife +down jus' lak he tired. Den he lean back in his chair, kinda still lak. +Den I say, 'What de matter wid Marse L.Q.?' Den dey all jump an' scream +an', bless de Lawd, if he warnt plumb dead.</p> + +<p>"Slaves didn' know what to 'spec from freedom, but a lot of 'em hoped +dey would be fed an' kep' by de gov'ment. Dey all had diffe'nt ways o' +thinkin' 'bout it. Mos'ly though dey was jus' lak me, dey didn' know +jus' zackly what it meant. It was jus' somp'n dat de white folks an' +slaves all de time talk 'bout. Dat's all. Folks dat ain' never been free +don' rightly know de <u>feel</u> of bein' free. Dey don' know de meanin' +of it. Slaves like us, what was owned by quality-folks, was sati'fied +an' didn' sing none of dem freedom songs. I recollec' one song dat us +could sing. It went lak dis:</p> + +<pre> +'Drinkin' o' de wine, drinkin' o' de wine, +Ought-a been in heaven three-thousan' yeahs +A-drinkin' o' dat wine, a-drinkin' o' dat wine.' +</pre> + +<p>Us could shout dat one.</p> + +<p>"I was a grown-up man wid a wife an' two chillun when de War broke out. +You see, I stayed wid de folks til 'long cum de Yanks. Dey took me off +an' put me in de War. Firs', dey shipped me on a gunboat an', nex', dey +made me he'p dig a canal at Vicksburg. I was on de gunboat when it +shelled de town. It was turrible, seein' folks a-tryin' to blow each +other up. Whilst us was bull-doggin' Vicksburg in front, a Yankee army +slipped in behin' de Rebels an' penned 'em up. I fit[FN: fought] at Fort +Pillow an' Harrisburg an' Pleasant Hill an' 'fore I was ha'f through wid +it I was in Ba'timore an' Virginny.</p> + +<p>"I was on han' when Gin'l Lee handed his sword to Gin'l Grant. You see, +Miss, dey had him all hemmed in an' he jus' natchelly had to give up. I +seen him stick his sword up in de groun'.</p> + +<p>"Law! It sho' was turrible times. Dese old eyes o' mine seen more people +crippled an' dead. I'se even seen 'em saw off legs wid hacksaws. I tell +you it aint right, Miss, what I seen. It aint right atall.</p> + +<p>"Den I was put to buryin' Yankee sojers. When nobody was lookin' I +stript de dead of dey money. Sometimes dey had it in a belt a-roun' dey +bodies. Soon I got a big roll o' foldin' money. Den I come a-trampin' +back home. My folks didn' have no money but dat wuthless kin'. It was +all dey knowed 'bout. When I grabbed some if it an' throwed it in de +blazin' fiah, dey thought I was crazy, 'til I tol' 'em, 'dat aint money; +it's no 'count!' Den I give my daddy a greenback an' tol' him what it +was.</p> + +<p>"Aftah de War was over de slaves was worse off dan when dey had +marsters. Some of 'em was put in stockades at Angola, Loosanna[FN: +Louisiana], an' some in de turrible corral at Natchez. Dey warnt used to +de stuff de Yankees fed 'em. Dey fed' em wasp-nes' bread, 'stead o' +corn-pone an' hoe cake, an' all such lak. Dey caught diseases an' died +by de hund'eds, jus' lak flies. Dey had been fooled into thinkin' it +would be good times, but it was de wors' times dey ever seen. Twant no +place for 'em to go; no bed to sleep on; an' no roof over dey heads. Dem +what could git back home set out wid dey min's made up to stay on de +lan'. Mos' of dey mistis' took 'em back so dey wuked de lan' ag'in. I +means dem what lived to git back to dey folks was more'n glad to wuk! +Dey done had a sad lesson. Some of 'em was worse'n slaves after de War.</p> + +<p>"Dem Ku Kluxes was de debbil. De Niggers sho' was scared of 'em, but dey +was more after dem carpet-baggers dan de Niggers. I lived right in +'mongst 'em, but I wouldn' tell. No Ma'm! I knowed 'em, but I dasn' +talk. Sometimes dey would go right in de fiel's an' take folks out an' +kill 'em. Aint none of 'em lef' now. Dey is all dead an' gone, but dey +sho' was rabid den. I never got in no trouble wid 'em, 'cause I tended +my business an' kep' out o' dey way. I'd-a been kilt if I'd-a run 'roun' +an' done any big talkin'.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed Marse Linc'um, but I heard he was a pow'ful good man. I +'members plain as yesterd'y when he got kilt an' how all de flags hung +at ha'f mas'. De Nawth nearly went wil' wid worryin' an' blamed +ever'body else. Some of 'em even tried to blame de killin' on Marse +Davis. I fit wid de Yankees, but I thought a mighty heap o' Marse Davis. +He was quality.</p> + +<p>"I guess slav'ry was wrong, but I 'members us had some mighty good +times. Some marsters was mean an' hard but I was treated good all time. +One thing I does know is dat a heap of slaves was worse off after de +War. Dey suffered 'cause dey was too triflin' to work widout a boss. Now +dey is got to work or die. In dem days you worked an' rested an' knowed +you'd be fed. In de middle of de day us rested an' waited for de horn to +blow to go back to de fiel'. Slaves didn' have nothin' turrible to worry +'bout if dey acted right. Dey was mean slaves de same as dey was mean +marsters.</p> + +<p>"Now-a-days folks don' live right. In slav'ry times when you got sick a +white docter was paid to git you well. Now all you gits is some no-count +paten' medicine. You is 'fraid to go to de horspital, 'cause de docters +might cut on yo' stummick. I think slav'ry was a lot easier dan de War. +Dat was de debbil's own business. Folks what hankers for war don' know +what dey is askin' for. Dey ain' never seen no bloodshed. In war-times a +man was no more dan a varmint.</p> + +<p>"When my white folks tol' us us was free, I waited. When de sojers come +dey turnt us loose lak animals wid nothin'. Dey had no business to set +us free lak dat. Dey gimme 160 acres of lan', but twant no 'count. It +was in Mt. Bayou, Arkansas, an' was low an' swampy. Twant yo' lan' to +keep lessen you lived on it. You had to clear it, dreen it, an' put a +house on it.</p> + +<p>"How I gwine-a dreen an' clear a lot o' lan' wid nothin' to do it wid? +Reckon somebody livin' on my lan' now.</p> + +<p>"One of de rights of bein' free was dat us could move 'roun' and change +bosses. But I never cared nothin' 'bout dat.</p> + +<p>"I hear somebody say us gwine-a vote. What I wanta vote for? I don' know +nothin' 'bout who is runnin'.</p> + +<p>"I draws a Federal pension now. If I lives' til nex' year I'll git $125 +a mont'. It sho' comes in handy. I paid $800 for my house an', if I'd-a +thought, I'd-a got one wid mo' lan'. I don' wan' to plant nothin'. I do +want to put a iron fence a-roun' it an' gild it wid silver paint. Den +when I's gone, dar it will be.</p> + +<p>"Yes'm. I'se raised a big fambly. Dem what aint dead, some of' em looks +as old as I does. I got one gran-chil' I loves jus' lak my own chillun. +I don' rightly 'member dis minute how many chillun I had, but I aint had +but two wives. De firs' one died long 'bout seventeen years ago, an' I +done what de Good Book say. It say, 'when you goes to de graveyard to +bury yo' firs' wife, look over de crowd an' pick out de nex' one.'</p> + +<p>"Dat's jus' what I done. I picked Janie McCoy, 'cause she aint never +been married b'fore. She's a good cook, even if she does smoke a pipe, +an' don' know much' bout nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I sho' don' live by no rules. I jus' takes a little dram when ever I +wants it, an' I smokes a pipe 'ceptin when de Mistis give me a +seegar[FN: cigar]. I can't chew tobacco on 'count my teeth is gone. I +aint been sick in bed but once in seventy years.</p> + +<p>"I is five feet, five inches tall. I used to weigh 150 pounds, but dis +old carcass o' mine done los' fifty pounds of meat.</p> + +<p>"Now-a-days I has a heap of misery in my knee, so I can't ride 'roun' no +mo'. Durin' de War I got a muskit ball in my hip an' now dat my meat's +all gone, it jolts a-roun' an' hurts me worse. I's still right sprightly +though. I can jump dat drainage ditch in front of de house, an' I sho' +can walk. Mos' every day I walks to de little sto' on Union Street. Dar +I rests long enough to pass de time-o-day wid my neighbors. My eyes is +still good, but I wears glasses for show an' for seein' close.</p> + +<p>"De longer I lives de plainer I see dat it ain' right to want mo' dan +you can use. De Lawd put a-plenty here for ever'body, but shucks! Us +don' pay no min' to his teachin'. Sometimes I gits lonesome for de +frien's I used to know, 'cause aint nobody lef' but me. I's sho' been +lef a fur piece[FN: long way] b'hin'. De white folks say, 'Old Jim is de +las' leaf on de tree,' an' I 'spec dey's 'bout right."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="McAllumSam"></a> +<h3>Sam McAllum, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County<br> +FEC<br> +Marjorie Woods Austin<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +SAM McALLUM<br> +Meridian, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>To those familiar with the history of "Bloody Kemper" as recorded, the +following narrative from the lips of an eye-witness will be heresy. But +the subject of this autobiography, carrying his ninety-five years more +trimly than many a man of sixty, is declared sound of mind as well as of +body by the Hector Currie family, prominent in Mississippi, for whom he +has worked in a position of great trust and responsibility for fifty +years or more.</p> + +<p>While this old Negro may be mistaken at some points (the universal +failing of witnesses), his impressions are certainly not more involved +than the welter of local records. Mrs. Currie states that if Sam said he +saw a thing happen thus, it may be depended upon that he is telling +exactly what he really saw.</p> + +<p>Sam McAllum, ex-slave, lives in Meridian, Lauderdale County. Sam is five +feet three inches tall and weighs 140 pounds.</p> +<br> +<p>"De firs' town I ever seen were DeKalb in Kemper County. De Stephenson +Plantation where I were born warnt but 'bout thirteen miles north o' +DeKalb. I were born de secon' o' September in 1842. My mammy b'longed to +de Stephensons an' my pappy b'longed to Marster Lewis Barnes. His +plantation wasn't so very far from Stephenson. De Stephensons an' +Barneses were kin' white people. My pappy were a old man when I were +born—I were de baby chil'. After he died, my mammy marry a McAllum +Nigger.</p> + +<p>"Dey were 'bout thirty slaves at Stephenson. My mammy worked in de +fiel', an' her mammy, Lillie, were de yard-woman. She looked after de +little cullud chillun.</p> + +<p>"I don't recollec' any playthings us had 'cept a ball my young marster +gimme. He were Sam Lewis Stephenson, 'bout my age. De little cullud +chillun' ud play 'Blin' Man', 'Hidin'', an' jus' whatever come to han'.</p> + +<p>"My young marster learned me out o' his speller, but Mistis whupped me. +She say I didn' need to learn nothin' 'cept how to count so's I could +feed de mules widout colicin' 'em. You give' em ten years[FN: ears] o' +corn to de mule. If you give' em more, it 'ud colic' 'em an' dey'd die. +Dey cos' more'n a Nigger would. Dat were de firs' whuppin' I ever +got—when me an' my young marster were a-spellin'.</p> + +<p>"I stayed wid him special, but I waited on all de white folk's chillun +at Stephenson. I carried de foot tub in at night an' washed dey foots, +an' I'd pull de trun'le bed out from under de other bed. All de boys +slep' in de same room.</p> + +<p>"Den I were a yard boy an' waited on de young marster an' mistis. Hadn' +been to de fiel' den—hadn' worked yet.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stephenson were a surveyor an' he fell out wid Mr. McAllum an' had +a lawsuit. He had to pay it in darkies. Mr. McAllum had de privilege o' +takin' me an' my mammy, or another woman an' her two. He took us. So us +come to de McAllum plantation to live. It were in Kemper, too, 'bout +eight miles from Stephenson. Us come dere endurin' of de war. Dat were +when my mammy marry one of de McAllum Niggers. My new pappy went to de +war wid Mr. McAllum an' were wid 'im when he were wounded at Mamassas +Gab Battle. He brung 'im home to die—an' he done it.</p> + +<p>"Den de Yankees come th'ough DeKalb huntin' up cannons an' guns an' +mules. Dey sho' did eat a heap. Us hid all de bes' things lak silver, +an' driv'[FN: drove] de stock to de swamp. Dey didn' burn nothin', but +us hear'd tell o' burnin's in Scooba an' Meridian. I were a-plowin' a +mule an' de Yankees made me take him out. De las' I seen o' dat mule, he +were headed for Scooba wid three Yankees a-straddle of 'im.</p> + +<p>"Times were tight—not a grain o' coffee an' not much else. When us +clo'es[FN: clothes] were plumb wore out, de mistis an' de Nigger wimmins +made us some out o' de cotton us had raised. My granny stayed de +loom-room all de time. De other winmins done de spinnin' an' she done de +weavin'. She were a' good'n'.</p> + +<p>"De M & O (Mobile & Ohio Railroad) were a-burnin' wood, den. Dey couldn' +git coal. Dey used taller[FN: tallow] pots 'stead o' oil. De engineer +had to climb out on de engine hisse'f an' 'tend to dam taller pots. Dey +do diffe'nt now.</p> + +<p>"Dey were such a sca'city of men, dey were a-puttin' 'em in de war at +sixty-five. But de war end 'fore dey call dat list.</p> + +<p>"Mistis didn' have nobody to he'p her endurin' de war. She had to do de +bes' she could.</p> + +<p>"When she hear'd de Niggers talkin' 'bout bein' free, she wore 'em out +wid a cowhide. She warnt a pow'ful-built woman, neither. She had to do +it herse'f, 'cause twant nobody to do it for 'er. Dey warnt nothin' a +Nigger could do but stan' up an' take it.</p> + +<p>"Some folks treated dey slaves mighty bad—put Nigger dogs on 'em. All +my white folks were good to dey slaves, 'cordin' to how good de Niggers +b'haved deyse'fs. Course, you couldn' leave no plantation widout a pass, +or de pateroller'd git you. I aint countin' dat, 'cause dat were +somthin' ever'body knowed 'forehan'.</p> + +<p>"Dey were a heap o' talk 'bout de Yankees a-givin' ever' Nigger forty +acres an' a mule. I don't know how us come to hear 'bout it. It jus' +kinda got aroun'. I picked out my mule. All o' us did.</p> + +<p>"Times were mighty tough. Us thought us knowed trouble endurin' de war. +Um-m-m! Us didn' know nothin' 'bout trouble.</p> + +<p>"Dey were so many slaves at McAllum's, dey had to thin 'em out. Mistis +put us out[FN: hired us out]. She sent me to Mr. Scott close to Scooba. +I were mos' a grown boy by den an' could plow pretty good. Come de +surrender, Mr. Scott say, 'Sambo, I don't have to pay yo' mistis for you +no more. I have to pay you if you stay. Niggers is free. You is free.' I +didn' b'lieve it. I worked dat crop out, but I didn' ask for no pay. Dat +didn' seem right. I didn' un'erstan' 'bout freedom, so I went home to my +old mistis. She say, 'Sambo, you don't b'long to me now.'</p> + +<p>"Dey bound us young Niggers out. Dey sent me an' my brother to a man dat +were goin' to give us some learnin' 'long wid farmin'. His name were +Overstreet. Us worked dat crop out, but us aint never seen no speller, +nor nothin'.</p> + +<p>"Den us went back to Stephenson's, where us were born, to git us age. +Old mistis say, 'Sambo, you aint twenty-one yet.'</p> + +<p>"She cried, 'cause I had to go back to Mr. Overstreet. But I didn'. My +mammy an' me went back to McAllum's an' stayed until a man give us a +patch in turn[FN: return] for us he'pin' him on his farm.</p> + +<p>"I know 'bout de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Klu Kluxes]. I seen 'em. 'Bout de firs' +time I seen 'em were de las'. Aint nobody know zackly[FN: exactly] 'bout +dem Kloo Kluxes. Some say it were a sperrit dat hadn' had no water since +de war. One rider would drink fo' or five gallons at one time—kep' us +a-totin' buckets fas' as us could carry 'em. It were a sperrit, a evil +sperrit.</p> + +<p>"But folks dat aint acted right liable to be found mos' anytime tied up +some'r's: De Niggers were a-havin' a party one Satu'd'y night on +Hampton's plantation. Come some men on horses wid some kin' o' +scare-face on 'em. Dey were all wropped[FN: wrapped] up, disguised. De +horses were kivered[FN: covered] up, too. Dey call for Miler Hampton. He +were one o' de Hampton Niggers. He been up to somethin'. I don't know +what he done, but dey say he done somethin' bad. Dey didn' have no +trouble gittin' him, 'cause us were all scared us'd git kilt, too. Dey +carried 'im off wid 'em an' kilt him dat very night.</p> + +<p>"Us went to DeKalb nex' day in a drove an' ask de white folks to he'p +us. Us buy all de ammunition us could git to take de sperrit, 'cause us +were a-havin' 'nother party de nex' week. Dey didn' come to dat party.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why dey don't have no Kloo Kluxes now. De sperrit still +have de same power.</p> + +<p>"Den I go to work for Mr. Ed McAllum in DeKalb—when I aint workin' for +de Gullies. Mr. Ed were my young marster, you know, an' now he were de +jailor in DeKalb.</p> + +<p>"I knowed de Chisolms, too. Dat's how come I seen all I seen an' know +what aint never been tol'. I couldn' tell you dat. Maybe I's de only one +still livin' dat were grown an' right dere an' seen it happen. I aint +scared now nothin' 'ud happen to me for tellin'—Mr. Currie'd see to +dat—I jus' aint never tol'. Dem dat b'longed to my race were scared to +tell. Maybe it were all for de bes'. Dat were a long time ago. Dey give +out things den de way dey wanted 'em to soun', an' dat's de way dey done +come down:</p> + +<p>"'It started wid Mr. John Gully gittin' shot. Now Mr. Gully were a +leadin' man 'mong de white democratic people in Kemper, but dey aint had +much chance for 'bout seven years (I disremember jus' how long) on +'count o' white folks lak de Chisolms runnin' ever'thing. Ever'body were +sho' it were some' o' de Chisolm crowd, but some folks knowed it were +dat Nigger, Walter Riley, dat shot Mr. Gully. (But aint nobody ever tol' +de sho' 'nough reason why Walter shot Mr. John Gully.)</p> + +<p>"'De Chisolms warnt Yankees, but dey warnt white democratic people. Dey +do say de Chisolms an' folks lak' em used to run 'roun' wid de Yankees. +Maybe dat's how come dey was diffe'nt. Even 'fore de Yankees come +a-tall, when Mr. Chisolm were on us side, he were loud moufed[FN: +mouthed] 'bout it.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. John Gully he'p Mr. Chisolm git to be judge, but he turnt out to +be worse dan dem he had to judge. Mr. Gully an' de others made 'im +resign. I reckon maybe dat's why he quit bein' a Democratic an' started +ructions wid Mr. Gully.</p> + +<p>"'Come de surrender, Mr. Chisolm, he got to be a big leader on de other +side. An' he seen to it dat a lot o' de white democratic men got he'p +from votin' an' a lot o' Niggers step up an' vote lak he tol' 'em (dey +were scared not to). So de Chisolms kep' gittin' all de big places.</p> + +<p>"'A lot o' widders an' folks lak dat what couldn' he'p deyse'fs los' dey +homes an' ever'thing dey had. De papers de gran' jury make out 'bout it +were stored in de sheriff's office. De sheriff give out dat his office +done been broke open an' all dem papers stole.</p> + +<p>"'Den Mr. Chisolm's brother got hisse'f p'inted[FN: appointed] sheriff +an' make Mr. Chisolm deputy. Dat's when he started runnin' things, sho' +'nough. Nex' thing you know, Mr. Chisolm is de sho' 'nough sheriff, +hisse'f.</p> + +<p>"'Den he gather all his kin' o' folks 'roun' 'im an' dey make out a +black lis'. De folkses names dat were on it were de ones de Chisolms +didn' need. It were talked 'roun' dat de firs' name on dat lis' were Mr. +John Gully's name. A heap o' Kloo Kluxes' names were on it, too. Mr. +Chisolm send de Kloo Kluxes' names to de Gov'nor an' spec' him to do +somethin' 'bout runnin' 'em out. But, course, he couldn' do nothin' +'bout dat, 'cause it were a sperrit. But ever' now an' den somebody +what's name were on dat lis' 'ud git shot in de back.</p> + +<p>"'Afore de 'lection come in November (it mus' a-been in '75) de Niggers +had been a-votin' an' doin' ever'thing de Chisolms say. Dey were still +a-harpin' back to dat forty acres an' a mule dey were promised what dey +aint never got. It were turnin' out to be jus' de same wid ever'thing +else Mr. Chisolm had been a-promisin' to give 'em. Dey aint never got +none of it. De white democratic folks won dat 'lection.</p> + +<p>"'Soon Mr. Chisolm run for somthin' or 'nother an' got beat bad. Den he +were mad sho' 'nough. He went to Jackson to see de Gov'nor 'bout it. +Soon a heap o' white democratic men in Kemper got arrested for somethin' +or nother.</p> + +<p>"'Den Mr. John Gully got shot an' ever'body were sho' de Chisolms done +it. Ever'body were dat mad. Chisolm an' dem had to go to court. But dey +were slippery as eels an' Walter Riley's name come out. (He were a +Nigger.) Dey give out at de trial dat Walter were hired to shoot 'im by +de Chisolm folks. Dat were not de reason, but dey was blood 'fore folks' +eyes by dat time.</p> + +<p>"'It got worse dat Satu'd'y when Mr. Gully were buried. Folks all over +Kemper done hear'd 'bout it by now, an' by nine o'clock Sund'y mornin', +people were a-comin' in over ever' road dat led to DeKalb. Dey all had +loaded guns. It were on a Sund'y when all de killin' happened—I mean, +de windin'-up killin'. I were dere 'fore a gun were fired. I were dere +when de firs' man were wounded.</p> + +<p>"'De cullud people had gathered in DeKalb at de Methodis' Church. Dey +hadn' a gun fired yet. Mr. Henry Gully goes to de cullud people's +church. He walked in at de front door an' took his hat off his head. Dey +were a-packed in de house for preachin'. He walked down de aisle 'til he +got in front o' de preacher an' he turn sideways an' speak: "I want to +ask you to dismiss yo' congregation. Dey is goin' to be some trouble +take place right here in DeKalb an' I don't want any cullud person to +git hurt." De preacher rise to his feet, ever' Nigger in de house were +up, an' he dismiss 'em. (Mr. Henry Gully were Mr. John Gully's brother +an' a leadin' man o' de right.)</p> + +<p>"'De town were a-millin' wid folks from ever'where. Chisolm an' dem done +got in de jail for safety an' Miss Cornelia Chisolm went back'ards an' +for'ards to de jail. Dey thought she were a-carryin' ammunition in her +clo'es[FN: clothes] to her father. Mr. McClendon—he were one of' +em—were wid her twict. He were on de right-hand side. Some b'lieved he +were de one dat killed Mr. John Gully. Dey tol' 'im dey'd burn his house +down if he stay in it, but if he'd go on to jail, dey'd give 'im a fair +trial.</p> + +<p>"'Well, Mr. McClendon were shot down 'side Miss Cornelia. I seen him +when he fell on his face. De man dat fired de gun turn him over an' say, +"Well, us got' im." Miss Cornelia run on to de jail where de bounce[FN: +balance] o' de fam'ly were.</p> + +<p>"'Dem outside say, "Boys, it'll never do! Dey aint all in dere yet. +Let's sen' to Scooba an' git Charlie Rosenbaum an' John Gilmore to come +help dey frien's. Dey b'longs to dat Chisolm crowd an' we want dem, +too."</p> + +<p>"'So dey come. Somebody say, "Let's commence right here." I never seen a +battle b'fore, but I sho' seen one den. It were lak dis: Mr. Cal Hull +was de only democratic white frien' Mr. Rosenbaum had. He stood' twixt +his white democratic frien's an' Mr. Rosenbaum. He put his arms over Mr. +Rosenbaum an' say, "Boys, he's a frien' o' mine. If you kill him, you +kill me." Mr. Rosenbaum crawled over to de courthouse wall, an' squatted +down, an' stayed dere. Mr. Hull stood over 'im, pertectin' 'im. But Mr. +John Gilmore make for de jail an', when dey open de door for 'im, de +shootin' start. Right den were when Mr. Gilmore got his. Miss Cornelia +were struck in de wris'. It mortified an' after 'while she died from +it.'</p> + +<p>"I know I aint tol' de sho' 'nough reason Mr. John Gully got killed. +Maybe de time done come for de truf to be tol'. Hope won't nobody think +hard o' me for tellin':</p> + +<p>"Mr. John Gully had a bar-room an' a clerk. A white man by de name o' +Bob Dabbs walked[FN: clerked] b'hin' dat counter. Dis Nigger, Walter +Riley, I was a-tellin' you 'bout awhile ago, were a-courtin' a +yaller[FN: yellow] woman. (Dey warnt so many of 'em in dem days.) Mr. +Dabbs say, "Walter, if I ever kotch[FN: catch] you walkin wid (he called +dat yaller woman's name) I'll give you de worst beatin' ever was." +Walter were kotch wid 'er ag'in. Dat Frid'y night he come a-struttin' +into de bar-room. Mr. Dabbs say, "Come he'p move dese boxes here in de +nex' room." Walter walked in lak a Nigger will when you ask 'im to do +somethin', an' Mr. Dabbs turnt de key. "Git 'crost dat goods box," he +say. "I'll give you what I promised you." Mr. Dabbs got 'im a piece o' +plank an' burnt Walter up.</p> + +<p>"All dis here were a-goin' on 'bout de time Niggers were a-votin' an' +doin' things 'roun' white folks. Dey thought dey were pertected by de +Chisolm crowd.</p> + +<p>"De nex' Frid'y night Walter walked right into dat bar-room ag'in. Mr. +Dabbs say, "What you doin' here, Nigger?" Walter say, "You 'member what +you done to me tonight one week?" An' he say, "Well, what's to it?" Den +Walter say, "Well, I come to settle wid you." Mr. Dabbs say, "Let me see +if I can't hurry you up some," an' he retch[FN: reached] his han' back +his han' to his hip. But 'fore he could draw[FN: draw his gun] out, +Walter done run back to de door. Dey were a chinaberry tree close to de +door an' Walter got b'hin' it an' fired a pistol. Mr. Dabbs were hit wid +his arm a-layin' 'crost de counter wid his pistol in his han'.</p> + +<p>"'Me an' Mr. Ed ('cause he were de jailor), we put him on a mattress in +de room back o' de bar. An' he died dat night. De word jus' kinda got' +roun' dat some of de Chisolm crowd done killed Mr. Gully's clerk.</p> + +<p>"'Walter run off to Memphis. Mr. Gully were pursuin' after 'im to ketch +'im. Walter sho' got tired of him pursuin' after 'im. Dat were de +evidence Walter give out 'fore dey put de rope on his neck an' start him +on his way to de gallows, but twant nobody dere to put it down jus' lak +it were.</p> + +<p>"'Mr. Sinclair were sheriff by dis time, an' my young marster an' me +went wid 'im to git Walter to take 'im to de gallows. Mr. Sinclair say, +"Ed, you goin' to de jail-house now? Here's a ha'f pint o' whiskey. Give +it to Walter, make 'im happy, den if he talk too much, nobody will +b'lieve it." Mr. Ed say, "Come on, Sambo, go wid me." He retched down +an' got a han'ful o' goobers an' put 'em in his pocket. We were eatin' +'em on de way down to de jail-house. He say, "Walter, Mr. Sinclair done +sent you a dram." Walter say, "Mr. McAllum, I see you an' Sam eatin' +peanuts comin' along. Jus' you give me a han'ful an' I'll eat dem on de +way to de gallows. I don't want no whiskey."</p> + +<p>"'Den us got on de wagon. (I can see Walter now, standin' dere wid his +cap on de back o' his head ready to pull down over his eyes after he git +dere.) Dey were a pow'ful crowd 'roun' dat wagon.</p> + +<p>"'Den come a rider from Scooba, pull a paper from his pocket, an' han' +it to Mr. Sinclair. He read it an' say," Let de people go on to de +gallows. De wagon turn 'roun' an' go back to de jail." De Gov'nor had +stopped de hangin' 'til de case were 'vestigated. (De people standin' +dere a-waitin' for Walter to be hung didn' know what were de matter.)</p> + +<p>"'Dey placed Walter back in jail an' his coffin 'long wid' im. De +lawyers would visit 'im to git his testimony. Dey'd show 'im his coffin +all ready an' ask him did he do dis killin' or not. Dey want 'im to say +he were hired to do it. Dey fixed it all up. Twant nobody to tell jus' +how it were.'</p> + +<p>"I were married by dis time to Laura. She were de nurse maid to Mr. J.H. +Currie. She's been dead twenty years, now. When de Curries come to +Meridian to live, dey give me charge o' dey plantation. I were de leader +an' stayed an' worked de plantation for' em. Dey been livin' in Meridian +twelve years. I's married now to dey cook.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hector tol' me if I'd come an' live wid' em here, he'd gimme dis +house here in de back yard an' paint it an' fix it all up lak you see +it. It's mighty pleasant in de shade. Folks used to always set dey +houses in a grove, but now dey cuts down more trees dan dey keeps. Us +don't cut no trees. Us porches is always nice an' shady.</p> + +<p>"I'se got fo' boys livin'. One son were in de big strike in de +automobile plant in Detroit an' couldn' come to see me las' Chris'mus. +He'll come to see me nex' year if I's still here.</p> + +<p>"Maybe folks goin' a-think hard o' me for tellin' what aint never been +tol' b'fore. I been asked to tell what I seen an' I done it.</p> + +<p>"Dat's tellin' what I never thought to tell."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="MosesCharlie"></a> +<h3>Charlie Moses, Ex-slave, Lincoln County<br> +FEC<br> +Esther de Sola<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +CHARLIE MOSES<br> +Brookhaven, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Charlie Moses, 84 year old ex-slave, lives at Brookhaven. He possesses +the eloquence and the abundant vocabulary of all Negro preachers. He is +now confined to his bed because of the many ailments of old age. His +weight appears to be about 140 pounds, height 6 feet 1 inch high.</p> + +<p>"When I gits to thinkin' back on them slavery days I feels like risin' +out o' this here bed an' tellin' ever'body 'bout the harsh treatment us +colored folks was given when we was owned by poor quality folks.</p> + +<p>"My marster was mean an' cruel. I hates him, hates him! The God Almighty +has condemned him to eternal fiah. Of that I is certain. Even the cows +and horses on his plantation was scared out o' their minds when he come +near 'em. Oh Lordy! I can tell you plenty 'bout the things he done to us +poor Niggers. We was treated no better than one o' his houn' dogs. +Sometimes he didn' treat us as good as he did them. I prays to the Lord +not to let me see him when I die. He had the devil in his heart.</p> + +<p>"His name was Jim Rankin an' he lived out on a plantation over in Marion +County. I was born an' raised on his place. I spec I was 'bout twelve +year old at the time o' the war.</p> + +<p>"Old man Rankin worked us like animals. He had a right smart plantation +an' kep' all his Niggers, 'cept one house boy, out in the fiel' +a-workin'. He'd say, 'Niggers is meant to work. That's what I paid my +good money for 'em to do.'</p> + +<p>"He had two daughters an' two sons. Them an' his poor wife had all the +work in the house to do, 'cause he wouldn' waste no Nigger to help 'em +out. His family was as scared o' him as we was. They lived all their +lives under his whip. No Sir! No Sir! There warnt no meaner man in the +world than old man Jim Rankin.</p> + +<p>"My pappy was Allen Rankin an' my mammy was Ca'line. There was twelve o' +us chillun, nine boys an' three girls. My pa was born in Mississippi an' +sol' to Marster Rankin when he was a young man. My mammy was married in +South Carolina an' sol' to Marster Rankin over at Columbia. She had to +leave her family. But she warnt long in gittin' her another man.</p> + +<p>"Oh Lordy! The way us Niggers was treated was awful. Marster would beat, +knock, kick, kill. He done ever'thing he could 'cept eat us. We was +worked to death. We worked all Sunday, all day, all night. He whipped us +'til some jus' lay down to die. It was a poor life. I knows it aint +right to have hate in the heart, but, God Almighty! It's hard to be +forgivin' when I think of old man Rankin.</p> + +<p>"If one o' his Niggers done something to displease him, which was mos' +ever' day, he'd whip him' til he'd mos' die an' then he'd kick him 'roun +in the dust. He'd even take his gun an', before the Nigger had time to +open his mouth, he'd jus' stan' there an' shoot him down.</p> + +<p>"We'd git up at dawn to go to the fiel's. We'd take our pails o' grub +with us an' hang' em up in a row by the fence. We had meal an' pork an' +beef an' greens to eat. That was mos'ly what we had. Many a time when +noontime come an' we'd go to eat our vittals the marster would come +a-walkin' through the fiel with ten or twelve o' his houn' dogs. If he +looked in the pails an' was displeased with what he seen in 'em, he took +'em an' dumped 'em out before our very eyes an' let the dogs grab it up. +We didn' git nothin' to eat then 'til we come home late in the evenin'. +After he left we'd pick up pieces of the grub that the dogs left an' eat +'em. Hongry—hongry—we was so hongry.</p> + +<p>"We had our separate cabins an' at sunset all of us would go in an' shut +the door an' pray the Lord Marster Jim didn' call us out.</p> + +<p>"We never had much clothes 'ceptin' what was give us by the marster or +the mistis. Winter time we never had 'nough to wear nor 'nough to eat. +We wore homespun all the time. The marster didn' think we needed +anything, but jus' a little.</p> + +<p>"We didn' go to church, but Sundays we'd gather 'roun' an' listen to the +mistis read a little out o' the Bible. The marster said we didn' need no +religion an' he finally stopped her from readin' to us.</p> + +<p>"When the war come Marster was a captain of a regiment. He went away an' +stayed a year. When he come back he was even meaner than before.</p> + +<p>"When he come home from the war he stayed for two weeks. The night 'fore +he was a-fixin' to leave to go back he come out on his front porch to +smoke his pipe. He was a-standin' leanin' up ag'in' a railin' when +somebody sneaked up in the darkness an' shot him three times. Oh my +Lord! He died the nex' mornin'. He never knowed who done it. I was glad +they shot him down.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes the cavalry would come an' stay at the house an' the mistis +would have to 'tend to 'em an' see that they got plenty to eat an' fresh +horses.</p> + +<p>"I never seen no fightin'. I stayed on the plantation 'til the war was +over. I didn' see none o' the fightin'.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout Jefferson Davis. Lincoln was the man that +set us free. He was a big general in the war.</p> + +<p>"I 'member a song we sung, then. It went kinda like this:</p> + +<pre> +'Free at las', +Free at las', +Thank God Almighty +I's free at las'. +Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm.' +</pre> + +<p>"I only seen the Klu Klux Klan onct. They was a-paradin' the streets +here in Brookhaven. They had a Nigger that they was a-goin' to tar an' +feather.</p> + +<p>"When the mistis tol' us we was free (my pappy was already dead, then) +my mammy packed us chillun up to move. We travelled on a cotton wagon to +Covington, Louisiana. We all worked on a farm there 'bout a year. Then +all 'cept me moved to Mandeville, Louisiana an' worked on a farm there. +I hired out to Mr. Charlie Duson, a baker. Then we moved to a farm above +Baton Rouge, Louisiana an' worked for Mr. Abe Manning. We jus' travelled +all over from one place to another.</p> + +<p>"Then I got a letter from a frien' o' mine in Gainesville, Mississippi. +He had a job for me on a boat, haulin' lumber up the coast to Bay St. +Louis, Pass Christian, Long Beach, Gulfport, an' all them coast towns. I +worked out o' Gainesville on this boat for 'bout two year. I lost track +o' my family then an' never seen 'em no more.</p> + +<p>"In the year 1870 I got the call from the Lord to go out an' preach. I +left Gainesville an' travelled to Summit, Mississippi where another +frien' o' mine lived. I preached the words of the Lord an' travelled +from one place to another.</p> + +<p>"In 1873 I got married an' decided to settle in Brookhaven. I preached +an' all my flock believed in me. I bought up this house an' the two on +each side of it. Here I raised seven chillun in the way o' the Lord. +They is all in different parts of the country now, but I sees one of 'em +ever' now an' then. Las' April the Lord seen fit to put me a-bed an' I +been ailin' with misery ever since.</p> + +<p>"The young folks now-a-days are happy an' don't know' bout war an' +slavery times, but I does. They don't know nothin' an' don't make the +mark in the worl' that the old folks did. Old people made the first +roads in Mississippi. The Niggers today wouldn' know how to act on a +plantation. But they are happy. We was miserable.</p> + +<p>"Slavery days was bitter an' I can't forgit the sufferin'. Oh, God! I +hates 'em, hates 'em. God Almighty never meant for human beings to be +like animals. Us Niggers has a soul an' a heart an' a <u>min'</u>. We +aint like a dog or a horse. If all marsters had been good like some, the +slaves would all a-been happy. But marstars like mine ought never been +allowed to own Niggers.</p> + +<p>"I didn' spec nothin' out of freedom 'ceptin' peace an' happiness an' +the right to go my way as I pleased. I prays to the Lord for us to be +free, always.</p> + +<p>"That's the way God Almighty wants it."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="NecaiseHenri"></a> +<h3>Henri Necaise, Ex-Slave, Pearl River County<br> +FEC<br> +Mrs. C.E. Wells<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +HENRI NECAISE<br> +Nicholson, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Henri Necaise, ex-slave, 105 years old, lives a half-mile south of +Nicholson on US 11. Uncle Henri lives in a small plank cabin enclosed by +a fence. He owns his cabin and a small piece of land. He is about five +feet ten inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. His sight and hearing are +very good.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Harrison County, 19 miles from Pass Christian, 'long de +ridge road from de swamp near Wolf River. My Marster was Ursan Ladnier. +De Mistis' name was Popone. Us was all French. My father was a white +man, Anatole Necaise. I knowed he was my father, 'cause he used to call +me to him an' tell me I was his oldes' son.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed my mother. I was a slave an' my mother was sol' from me +an' her other chilluns. Dey tol' me when dey sol' 'er my sister was +a-holdin' me in her arms. She was standin' behin' da Big House peekin' +'roun' de corner an' seen de las' of her mother. I seen her go, too. Dey +tell me I used to go to de gate a-huntin' for my mammy. I used to sleep +wid my sister after dat.</p> + +<p>"Jus' lemme study a little, an' I'll tell you 'bout de Big House. It was +'bout 60 feet long, built o' hewed logs, in two parts. De floors was +made o' clay dey didn' have lumber for floors den. Us lived right close +to de Big House in a cabin. To tell de truf, de fac' o' de business is, +my Marster took care o' me better'n I can take care o' myse'f now.</p> + +<p>"When us was slaves Marster tell us what to do. He say, 'Henri, do dis, +do dat.' An' us done it. Den us didn' have to think whar de nex' meal +comin' from, or de nex' pair o' shoes or pants. De grub an' clo'es give +us was better'n I ever gits now.</p> + +<p>"Lemme think an' counts. My Marster didn' have a lot o' slaves. Dere was +one, two, three, fo', yes'm, jus' fo' o' us slaves. I was de +stockholder. I tended de sheep an' cows an' such lak. My Marster didn' +raise no big crops, jus' corn an' garden stuff. He had a heap o' cattle. +Dey could run out in de big woods den, an' so could de sheeps. He sol' +cattle to N'awlins[FN: New Orleans] an' Mobile, where he could git de +bes' price. Dat's de way folks does now, aint it? Dey sells wherever dey +can git de mos' money.</p> + +<p>"Dey didn' give me money, but, you see, I was a slave. Dey sho' give me +ever'thing else I need, clo'es an' shoes. I always had a-plenty t'eat, +better'n I can git now. I was better off when I was a slave dan I is +now, 'cause I had ever'thing furnished me den. Now I got to do it all +myse'f.</p> + +<p>"My Marster was a Catholic. One thing I can thank dem godly white folks +for, dey raise' me right. Dey taught me out o' God's word, 'Our Father +which art in Heaven.' Ever'body ought-a know dat prayer."</p> + +<p>(Note. In this Wolf River territory in Harrison County, where Uncle +Henri was born and raised, all the settlers were French Catholics, and +it was the scene of early Catholic missions.)</p> + +<p>"I was rais' a Catholic, but when I come here twant no church an' I +joined de Baptis' an' was baptised. Now de white folks lemme go to dey +church. Dey aint no cullud church near 'nough so's I can go. I spec' its +all right. I figgers dat God is ever'where.</p> + +<p>"My Mistis knowed how to read an' write. I don' know 'bout de Marster. +He could keep sto' anyway. Us all spoke French in dem days. I near 'bout +forgit all de songs us used to sing. Dey was all in French anyway, an' +when you don' speak no French for 'bout 60 years, you jus' forgit it.</p> + +<p>"I'se knowed slaves to run away, an' I'se seen 'em whupped. I seen good +marsters an' mean ones. Dey was good slaves an' mean ones. But to tell +de truf, if dey tol' a slave to do anything, den he jus' better do it.</p> + +<p>"I was big' nough in de Civil War to drive five yoke o' steers to Mobile +an' git grub to feed de wimmins an' chilluns. Some o' de mens was +a-fightin' an' some was a-runnin' an' hidin'. I was a slave an' I had to +do what dey tol' me. I carried grub into de swamp to men, but I never +knowed what dey was a-hidin' from."</p> + +<p>(This may be explained by the fact that Uncle Henri was owned by and +lived in a settlement of French People, many of whom probably had no +convictions or feeling of loyalty, one way or the other, during the War +Between the States.)</p> + +<p>"My old Marster had fo' sons, an' de younges' one went to de war an' was +killed.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees come to Pass Christian, I was dere, an' seen 'em. Dey come +up de river an' tore up things as dey went along.</p> + +<p>"I was 31 years old when I was set free. My Marster didn' tell us' bout +bein' free. De way I foun' it out, he started to whup me once an' de +young Marster up an' says, 'You aint got no right to whup him now, he's +free.' Den Marster turnt me loose.</p> + +<p>"It was dem Carpetbaggers dat 'stroyed de country. Dey went an' turned +us loose, jus' lak a passel o' cattle, an' didn' show us nothin' or giv' +us nothin'. Dey was acres an' acres o' lan' not in use, an' lots o' +timber in dis country. Dey should-a give each one o' us a little farm +an' let us git out timber an' build houses. Dey ought to put a white +Marster over us, to show us an' make us work, only let us be free 'stead +o' slaves. I think dat would-a been better 'n turnin' us loose lak dey +done.</p> + +<p>"I lef' my Marster an' went over to de Jordon River, an' dere I stayed +an' worked. I saved my money an' dat giv' me a start. I never touched +it' til de year was winded up. To tell da truf, de fac's o' de matter +is, it was my Marstars kinfolks I was workin' for.</p> + +<p>"I bought me a schooner wid dat money an' carried charcoal to N'awlins. +I done dis for 'bout two years an' den I los' my schooner in a storm off +o' Bay St. Louis.</p> + +<p>"After I los' my schooner, I come here an' got married. Dis was in 1875 +an' I was 43 years old. Dat was my firs' time to marry. I'se got dat +same wife today. She was born a slave, too. I didn' have no chillun, but +my wife did. She had one gal-chil'. She lives at Westonia an' is de +mammy o' ten chillun. She done better'n us done. I'se got a lot o' +gran'-chillun. What does you call de nex' den? Lemme see, great +gran'-chillun, dat's it.</p> + +<p>"I never did b'lieve in no ghos' an' hoodoos an' charms.</p> + +<p>"I never did look for to git nothin' after I was free. I had dat in my +head to git me 80 acres o' lan' an' homestead it. As for de gov'ment +making me a present o' anything, I never thought 'bout it. But jus' now +I needs it.</p> + +<p>"I did git me dis little farm, 40 acres, but I bought it an' paid for it +myse'f. I got de money by workin' for it. When I come to dis country I +dug wells an' built chimneys on' houses. (Once I dug a well 27 feet an' +come to a coal bed. I went through de coal an' foun' water. Dat was on +de Jordon River.) Dat clay chimney an' dis here house has been built 52 +years. I's still livin' in' em. Dey's mine. One acre, I giv' to de Lawd +for a graveyard an' a churchhouse. I wants to be buried dere myse'f.</p> + +<p>"A white lady paid my taxes dis year. I raises a garden an' gits de Old +Age 'Sistance. It aint 'nough to buy grub an' clo'es for me an' de old +woman an' pay taxes, so us jus' has to git 'long de bes' us can wid de +white folks he'p.</p> + +<p>"It aint none o' my business' bout whether de Niggers is better off free +dan slaves. I dont know 'cept 'bout me, I was better off den. I did earn +money after I was free, but after all, you know <u>money is de root o' +all evil</u>. Dat what de Good Book say. When I was a slave I only had +to obey my Marster an' he furnish me ever'thing. Once in a while he +would whup me, but what was dat? You can't raise nary chile, white or +black, widout chastisin'. De law didn' low dem to dominize over us, an' +dey didn' try.</p> + +<p>"I's gittin' mighty old now, but I used to be pretty spry. I used to go +60 miles out on de Gulf o' Mexico, as 'terpreter on dem big ships dat +come from France. Dat was 'fore I done forgot my French talk what I was +raised to speak.</p> + +<p>"De white folks is mighty good to me. De riches' man in Picayune, he +recognizes me an' gives me two bits or fo' bits. I sho' has plenty o' +good frien's. If I gits out o' grub, I catches me a ride to town, an' I +comes back wid de grub.</p> + +<p>"De good Lawd, he don't forgit me."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SingletonJames"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[REV. JAMES SINGLETON<br> +Simpson, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<p>"My name's James Singleton. I'se a Baptist preacher. I was born in 1856, +but I doan know zactly what date. My mammy was Harr'et Thompson. Her +marster was Marse Daniel Thompson over in Simpson County on Strong River +at a place called Westville. My pappy, he come from South +Ca'lina—Charleston—an' was give to do old folks' darter. His name was +John Black an' he was owned by Mr. Frank Smith over in Simpson. He was +brought down frum South Ca'lina in a wagon 'long wid lots mo'.</p> + +<p>"Me, I was sol' to Marse Harrison Hogg over in Simpson when I was 'bout +six years old, and Marse Hogg, he turn right 'roun', and sol' me an' +sister Harr'et an' brother John nex' day for fo' thousan'. Two thousan' +fo' John, 'cause he's older an' bigger, an' a thousan' fo' Harr'et an' +me. Miss Annie an' Marse Elbert Bell bought us.</p> + +<p>"Marse Elbert had three mo' sides us—makin' six. Us slep' on pallets on +de flo', an' all lived in one long room made out of logs, an' had a dirt +flo' an' dirt chimbly. There was a big old iron pot hangin' over de +hearth, an' us had 'possum, greens, taters, and de lak cooked in it. Had +coon sometimes, too.</p> + +<p>"Marse Elbert, he lived in jes a plain wood house made Califo'nia style, +wid a front room an' a shed room where de boys slep'. Dey had two boys, +Jettie an' William.</p> + +<p>"I reckin dere was 'bout a hun'erd an' sixty acres planted in taters an' +corn, an' dey made whiskey too. Yessum, dey had a 'stillery[FN: +distillery] hid down in de woods where dey made it.</p> + +<p>"My mammy an' pappy was fiel' han's, an' I was mighty little to do so +much. I jes minded de cow pen, made fires in de Big House, an' swep' de +house. When I made de fires, iffen dere wa'nt any live coale lef', we +had to use a flint rock to git it sta'ted.</p> + +<p>"Dere was a bell ringin' every mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock, fer to call de +slaves tar git up an' go to de fiel's. Day wuked 'til sundown. Dey was +fed in de white folks' kitchen, and Cook cooked fer us jes lak she done +fer de whites. De kitchen was built off a piece frum de hous', y'know.</p> + +<p>"Marse never did whup any of us li'l chullun. Miss Annie, she tried once +to whup me 'cause I chunked rocks at her li'l chickens, but mighty +little whuppin' she done. Dere wa'nt no overseer.</p> + +<p>"Chris'mas time, we had two or three days to play, an' had extry food.</p> + +<p>"I seen 'pattyrollers' ridin' 'bout to keep de darkies from runnin' +'roun' widout passes. I never seen 'em whup none but dey tol' us we'd +git twen'y-nine licks iffen we got caught by 'em. I seen darkies git +whuppin's on other plantations—whup 'em half a day sometimes, gen'ly +when dey tried to run away.</p> + +<p>"We didn' have no dancin' dat I 'member, but had plen'y log rollin's. +Had fiddlin', an' all would jine in singin' songs, lak, "Run nigger run, +pattyrollers ketch you, run nigger run, it's breakin' days." I still +fiddle dat chune[FN: tune]. Well, you see, dey jes rolled up all de old +dead logs an' trees in a big pile, and burned it at night.</p> + +<p>"I seen de Yankee sojers when dey passed our house but dey didn' bother +us none. None didn' even stop in. Dey was wearin' blue jackets an' had +gold buttons on caps an' jackets. But when de Confed'rate sojers come +along, dey stopped an' killed a fat cow er two, an' taken de fat hoss +an' lef' a lean one, an' taken ever'thing else dey seen dey wanted.</p> + +<p>"No'm, didn' none of de slaves run off wid dem dat I knows of, an' de +Yankees didn' try to bother us none. Well, afte' de War, Marse Elbert +tol' us dat we was free now, an' pappy come an' got us an' taken us to +live wid de cook on Mr. Elisha Bishop's place, an' he paid Mr. Barren +Bishop to teach us. He taught us out of Webster's Blue Back Spellin' +Book.</p> + +<p>"My pappy, he had a stolen ejucation—'at was cause his mistress back in +South Ca'Line hoped him to learn to read an' write 'fo he lef' there. +You see, in dem days, it was ag'inst de law fer slaves to read.</p> + +<p>"I was glad to be free 'cause I don't b'lieve sellin' an' whuppin' +peoples is right. I certainly does think religion is a good thing, +'cause I'se a Baptist preacher right now, and I live 'bout six miles +from Crystal Springs. I farm too.</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SmithBerry"></a> +<h3>Berry Smith, Ex-slave, Scott County<br> +FEC<br> +W.B. Allison<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +BERRY SMITH<br> +Forest, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Uncle Berry" Smith is five feet two or three inches tall. He is +scrupulously neat. He is very independent for his age, which is +calculated at one hundred and sixteen years. He believes the figure to +be correct. His mind is amazingly clear.</p> + +<p>"I was born an' bred in Sumpter County, Alabama, in de prairie lan', six +miles from Gainesville. Dat's where I hauled cotton. It was close to +Livingston, Alabama, where we lived.</p> + +<p>"I was twelve years old when de stars fell. Dey fell late in de night +an' dey lighted up de whole earth. All de chaps was a-runnin' 'roun' +grabbin' for 'em, but none of us ever kotched[FN: caught] one. It's a +wonder some of' em didn' hit us, but dey didn'. Dey never hit de groun' +atall.</p> + +<p>"When dey runned de Injuns out de country, me an' another chap kotched +one o' dem Injun's ponies an hung him up[FN: tied him up] in de grape +vines. He said it was his pony an' I said it was mine.</p> + +<p>"Marse Bob's boy tol' us his daddy was gwine a-whup us for stealin' dat +pony, so we hid out in de cane for two nights. Marse Bob an' his brother +whupped us' til we didn' want to see no more Injuns or dey ponies, +neither.</p> + +<p>"I was born a slave to Old Marse Jim Harper an' I fell to Marse Bob. +Marse Jim bought my pa an' ma from a man by de name o' Smith, an' Pa +kep' de name. Dat's how come I is Berry Smith.</p> + +<p>"Dey didn' have no schools for us an' didn' teach us nothin' but work. +De bull-whip an' de paddle was all de teachin' we got. De white +preachers used to preach to de Niggers sometimes in de white folks' +church, but I didn' go much.</p> + +<p>"We had fun in dem days in spite o' ever'thing. De pranks we used to +play on dem paterollers! Sometimes we tied ropes 'crost de bridge an' de +paterollers'd hit it an' go in de creek. Maybe we'd be fiddlin' an' +dancin' on de bridge (dat was de grown folks, but de chaps 'ud come, +too) an' dey'd say, 'Here come de paterollers!' Den we'd put out. If we +could git to de marster's house, we was all right. Marse Bob wouldn' let +no pateroller come on his place. Marse Alf wouldn', neither. Dey said it +was all right if we could git home widout bein' kotched, but we have to +take dat chance.</p> + +<p>"At de Big House dey had spinnin' wheels an' a loom. Dey made all de +clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun was what dey called de goods. +My ma used to spin an' weave in de loom room at de Big House.</p> + +<p>"Dey was two plantations in de marster's lan' an' dey worked a heap o' +Niggers. I was a house boy an' didn' go to de fiel' much.</p> + +<p>"We had overseers on de place, but dey was jus' hired men. Dey was po' +white folks an' only got paid 'bout three or fo' hund'ed dollars a year.</p> + +<p>"When we lef' Alabama we come to Mississippi. We went to de Denham place +near Garlandsville. We brought eighteen Niggers. We walked a hund'ed +miles an' it took five days an' nights. De women an' little chaps +rid[FN: rode] on de wagons (dey had five mules to de wagon) an' de men +an' de big chaps walked. My pa an' ma come along.</p> + +<p>"We stayed on de Denham place 'bout three years. Den we moved to +Homewood an' stayed five years. I hung de boards for Marse Bob's house +in Homewood.</p> + +<p>"Den we come to Forest. Dey brought all de fam'ly over here—all my +brothers an' sisters. Dey was five of' em—Wash an' East is de two I +'members. All o' us b'longed to de Harper fam'ly. Marse Bob owned us. My +ma an' pa both died here in Forest.</p> + +<p>"I he'ped to build dis house for Marse Bob. I cleaned de lan' an' lef de +trees where he tol' me. He lived in a little old shack whilst we built +de Big House.</p> + +<p>"Mr. M.D. Graham put up de firs' store here an' de secon' was put up by +my marster.</p> + +<p>"I worked in de fiel' some, but mos'ly I was a house servant. I used to +go all over de country a-huntin' eggs an' chickens for de fam'ly on' +count dey was so much comp'ny at de house.</p> + +<p>"A heap o' white folks was good to dey Niggers, jus' as good as dey +could be, but a heap of' em was mean, too. My mistis was good to us an' +so was Marse Jim Harper. He wouldn' let de boys 'buse us while he lived, +but when he died dey was wild an' cruel. Dey was hard taskmasters. We +was fed good three times a day, but we was whupped too much. Dat got me. +I couldn' stan' it. De old marster give us good dinners at Chris'mus, +but de young ones stopped all dat.</p> + +<p>"De firs' train I ever seen was in Brandon. I went dere to carry some +horses for my marster. It sho' was a fine lookin' engine. I was lookin' +at it out of a upstairs window an' when it whistled I'd a-jumped out dat +window if Captain Harper hadn' a-grabbed me.</p> + +<p>"I didn' see no fightin' in de war. When Gen'l Sherman come th'ough +here, he come by Hillsboro. Marse Bob didn' go to de war. He 'listed[FN: +enlisted], but he come right back an' went to gittin' out cross ties for +de railroad. He warnt no sojer. Colonel Harper, dat was Marse Alf, +<u>he</u> was de sojer. He warnt scared o' nothin' or nobody.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees ask me to go to de war, but I tol' 'em, 'I aint no rabbit to +live in de woods. My marster gives me three good meals a day an' a good +house an' I aint a-goin'.' Marse Bob used to feed us fine an' he was +good to us. He wouldn' let no overseer touch his Niggers, but he whupped +us, hisse'f.</p> + +<p>"Den de Yankees tol' me I was free, same as dey was. I come an' tol' +Marse Bob I was a-goin'. He say, 'If you don't go to work, Nigger, you +gwine a-git whupped.' So I run away an' hid out in de woods. De nex' day +I went to Meridian. I cooked for de sojers two months, den I come back +to Forest an' worked spikin' ties for de railroad.</p> + +<p>"I hear'd a heap of talk 'bout Jeff Davis an' Abe Lincoln, but didn' +know nothin' 'bout 'em. We hear'd 'bout de Yankees fightin' to free us, +but we didn' b'lieve it 'til we hear'd 'bout de fightin' at Vicksburg.</p> + +<p>"I voted de 'publican ticket after de surrender, but I didn' bother wid +no politics. I didn' want none of 'em.</p> + +<p>"De Kloo Kluxers[FN: Ku Klux's] was bad up above here, but I never seen +any. I hear'd tell of 'em whuppin' folks, but I don't know nothin' 'bout +it, much.</p> + +<p>"Mos' all de Niggers dat had good owners stayed wid 'em, but de others +lef'. Some of 'em come back an' some didn'.</p> + +<p>"I hear'd a heap o' talk 'bout ever' Nigger gittin forty acres an' a +mule. Dey had us fooled up 'bout it, but I never seen nobody git +nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I hope dey won't be no more war in my time. Dat one was turrible. Dey +can all go dat wants to, but I aint a-goin'.</p> + +<p>"I seen Gen'l Grant at Vicksburg after de war. (He was a little short +man.) All de Niggers went dere for somethin'—me 'mongst 'em. I don't +know what we went for.</p> + +<p>"I took to steamboatin' at Vicksburg 'cause I could cut[FN: place for +storage or shipment] cotton so good. (I could cut cotton now wid a +cotton hook if I warnt so old.)</p> + +<p>"I steamboated twixt New Orleans an' St. Louis on de 'Commonwealth,' a +freight packet, way up yonder in St. Louis. I don't know what country +dat was in. But de rousters had a big fight one night in New Orleans, +shootin' an' cuttin', so I lef'. When I got back to Vicksburg, I quit.</p> + +<p>"I picked cotton in de Delta awhile, but de folks, white an' black, is +too hard. Dey don't care 'bout nothin! I was in Greenville when de water +come. I hear'd a noise like de wind an' I asked dem Niggers, 'Is dat a +storm?' Dey said, 'No, dat's de river comin' th'ough an' you better come +back 'fore de water ketch[FN: catch] you.' I say, 'If it ketch me it +gwine a-ketch me on my way home.' I aint been back since.</p> + +<p>"Den I come back here an' went to farmin' an' I been here ever since. I +bought forty-seven acres an' a nice little house. De house burnt down, +but de white folks built me a better one. Dey's good an' kin' to me. Dey +say I's a good man.</p> + +<p>"My wife was six year old at de surrender. She b'longed to Marse Alf, +but we was free when we married. We had sixteen chillun. Mos' of 'em +lives 'roun 'here. Some in Newton, some in Scott, an' some in Texas. My +wife died two years ago las' March.</p> + +<p>"Marse Bob died right here in dis here house. He died a po' man. If my +old mistis had a-been here she wouldn' a-let' em treat him like dey +done. If I'd a-been here I wouldn' a-let' em done like dat, neither.</p> + +<p>"I been a-livin' by myse'f since my wife died. My son, Oscar, lives on +de lan' an' rents it from me.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what's gwine a-happen to de young folks now-a-days. Dey +know better, but dey's wild an' don't care 'bout nothin'. I aint got no +time to fool wid 'em. Looks like dey don't care 'bout workin' at +nothin'.</p> + +<p>"I been a-workin' all my life, an' I'se seen good times an' bad times. I +loves to work yet. I's gwine out now soon's I git my dinner an' he'p +finish pickin' dat patch o' cotton. I can pick two hund'ed pounds a day +an' I's one hund'ed an' sixteen year old. I picks wid both han's an' +don't have to stoop much. My back don't never ache me atall. My mammy +teached me to pick cotton. She took a pole to me if I didn' do it right. +I been a-pickin ever since. I'd ruther pick cotton dan eat, any day.</p> + +<p>"But I'se seen enough. I's jus' a-waitin' for de call to meet all my +folks in Heaven. Dey's a better place dan dis an' I's a-tryin' to treat +ever'body right so's I can git to go to it.</p> + +<p>"I's listenin' hard for dat call an' I know it won't be long a-comin'."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SnowSusan"></a> +<h3>Susan Snow, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County<br> +FEC<br> +W.B. Allison<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +SUSAN SNOW<br> +Meridian, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Aunt Sue" Snow, a rather small and profusely wrinkled 87-year-old +ex-slave, lives in the Negro quarters of the South Side in Meridian.</p> + +<p>In spite of her wild escapades, her reputation for honesty and +reliability is high and she carries and exhibits with pride numerous +letters attesting that fact.</p> + +<p>She often finds it necessary to stand and act the story she is telling. +Her memory is amazing and she turns with equal readiness to copious +quotations from the Scripture and other pious observations to amusing +but wholly unprintable anecdotes of her somewhat lurid past.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Wilcox County, Alabama, in 1850. W.J. Snow was my old +marster. He bought my ma from a man named Jerry Casey. Venus was her +name, but dey mos'ly called her 'Venie.'</p> + +<p>"I's workin' now for one o' my old folks. I can't work much—jus' +carries things to 'er an' such. She's my old mistis' own daughter an' +she's got gran'chillun grown an' married. All de chillun dat's livin' is +older'n me.</p> + +<p>"When her pa bought my mammy, I was a baby. Her pa owned a heap o' +Niggers. I's de only one still hangin' aroun'.</p> + +<p>"My ma was a black African an' she sho' was wild an' mean. She was so +mean to me I couldn' b'lieve she was my mammy. Dey couldn' whup her +widout tyin' her up firs'. Sometimes my marster would wait 'til de nex' +day to git somebody to he'p tie her up, den he'd forgit to whup 'er. Dey +used to say she was a cunger an' dey was all scared of 'er. But my ma +was scared o' cungers, too.</p> + +<p>"All de Niggers on de place was born in de fam'ly an' was kin, 'cept my +ma. She tol' me how dey brought her from Africa. You know, like we say +'President' in dis country, well dey call him 'Chief' in Africa. Seem +like de Chief made 'rangements wid some men an' dey had a big goober +grabbin' for de young folks. Dey stole my ma an' some more an' brung 'em +to dis country.</p> + +<p>"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout havin' no pa. You know, honey, in dem +days husbands an' wives didn' b'long to de same folks. My ma say her +husband was so mean dat after us lef' Alabama she didn' want to marry no +more.</p> + +<p>"A man didn' git to see his wife 'cept twict a week. Dat was Wednesday +an' Satu'd'y night.</p> + +<p>"De women had to walk a chalk line. I never hear'd tell o' wives runnin' +'roun' wid other men in dem days.</p> + +<p>"I was raised in Jasper County. Marster bought lan' from ever'body +'roun' 'til he had a big plantation. He had Niggers, horses, mules, +cows, hogs, an' chickens. He was a rich man, den.</p> + +<p>"Ever' Nigger had a house o' his own. My ma never would have no board +floor like de res' of' em, on' count she was a African—only dirt. (Dey +say she was 108 year old when she died.)</p> + +<p>"Us went to church wid de white folks if us wanted to. Dey didn' make +us. I didn' go much, 'cause I didn' have 'ligion, den. Us didn' have no +schoolin'. Us could go to school wid de white chillun if us wanted to, +but didn' nobody teach us. I's educated, but I aint educated in de +books. I's educated by de licks an' bumps I got.</p> + +<p>"My white folks was good people an' didn' whup nobody, 'less dey needed +it. Some o' de Niggers was sho' 'nough bad. Dey used to take de +marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got +dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course, +Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour +after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he +didn'.</p> + +<p>"When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for +deyse'ves. Dey called 'im in to 'scribe for us. I was snake-bit when I +was eight year old. Dey used to be a medicine named 'lobelia.' De doctor +give me dat an' whiskey. My ma carried me up to de Big House ever' +mornin' an' lef' me, an' carried me home at night. Old Mis' 'ud watch +over me in de day time.</p> + +<p>"My young marster tol' me dat when I got to be ten year old, I'd have a +snake coiled up on my liver. Dat scared me mos' to death 'til I was past +ten year old.</p> + +<p>"Dey made all de Niggers' clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun, dey +called it. Dey had spinnin' wheels an' cards an' looms at de Big House. +All de women spinned in de winter time.</p> + +<p>"I never knowed what it was to wear more dan one garment, 'til I was +mos' grown. I never had a pair o' shoes o' my own. Old Mis' let me wear +her'n sometimes. Dey had shoes for de old folks, but not for de chillun.</p> + +<p>"I got more whuppin's dan any other Nigger on de place, 'cause I was +mean like my mammy. Always a-fightin' an' scratchin' wid white an' +black. I was so bad Marster made me go look at de Niggers dey hung to +see what dey done to a Nigger dat harm a white man.</p> + +<p>"I's gwine tell dis story on myse'f. De white chillun was a-singin' dis +song:</p> + +<pre> +'Jeff Davis, long an' slim, +Whupped old Abe wid a hick'ry limb. + +Jeff Davis is a wise man, Lincoln is a fool, +Jeff Davis rides a gray, an' Lincoln rides a mule.' +</pre> + +<p>I was mad anyway, so I hopped up an' sung dis one:</p> + +<pre> +'Old Gen'l Pope had a shot gun, +Filled it full o' gum, +Killed 'em as dey come. + +Called a Union band, +Make de Rebels un'erstan' +To leave de lan', +Submit to Abraham.' +</pre> + +<p>"Old Mis' was a-standin' right b'hin' me. She grabbed up de broom an' +laid it on me. She made <u>me</u> submit. I caught de feathers, don't +you forgit it.</p> + +<p>"I didn' know it was wrong. I'd hear'd de Niggers sing it an' I didn' +know dey was a-singin' in dey sleeves. I didn' know nothin' 'bout Abe +Lincoln, but I hear'd he was a-tryin' to free de Niggers an' my mammy +say she want to be free.</p> + +<p>"De young folks used to make up a heap o' songs, den. Dey'd +decompose[FN: compose] dey own songs an' sing' em. I never will forgit +one song dey sung when dey buried anybody. It made Old Marster, Mistis, +an' all of' em cry. Us chillun cried, too. It went like dis:</p> + +<pre> +'My mother prayed in de wilderness, +In de wilderness, +In de wilderness. +My mother prayed in de wilderness. +An' den I'm a-goin' home. + +Chorus: + +Den I'm a-goin' home, +Den I'm a-goin' home. + +We'll all make ready, Lawd, +An' den I'm a-goin' home. + +She plead her cause in de wilderness, +In de wilderness, +In de wilderness. +She plead her cause in de wilderness. +An' den I'm a-goin' home.' + +(Repeat chorus) +</pre> + +<p>"Old Aunt Hannah fell to my marster from his daddy. She had twelve +chillun a-workin' on de place. De oldes' was named Adam an' de littlest +was named Eve. She had two twins what was named Rachel an' Leah. Dey +nussed my mistis' two twins. Dey kep' one a-nussin' mos' all de time.</p> + +<p>"My ma was de cause o' my marster a-firin' all de overseers. (Dey blamed +ever'thing on her 'cause she was de only bought Nigger.) Marster say she +was a valuable Nigger, but she was so mean he was afraid dey'd kill her. +He say, 'She'll work widout no watchin' an' overseers aint nothin', +nohow.'</p> + +<p>"Dey was a white man—I aint lyin'—I know him an' I seen him. He had +Nigger houn's an' he made money a-huntin' runaway Niggers. His own +Niggers kilt 'im. Dey hung 'em for it. Two was his Niggers an' one +b'long to somebody else.</p> + +<p>"My young marster used to work in de fiel' wid us. He'd boss de Niggers. +Dey called 'im Bud, but us all called 'im 'Babe.' Honey, I sho' did love +dat boy.</p> + +<p>"When de war come dey used to tease him an' say, 'Bud, why don't you go +to de war?' Dey laughed an' teased 'im when he went. But twant no +laughin' when he come home on a furlough an' went back. Dey was cryin' +den. An' well dey mought[FN: might] cry, 'cause he never come back no +more'. He was kilt in de war.</p> + +<p>"Endurin' de war, de white folks made dey clo'es same as de Niggers. Old +Mis' made dye an' dyed de thread. She made pretty cloth.</p> + +<p>"My ma was de firs' to leave de plantation after de surrender. All de +other Niggers had a contrac' to stay, but she didn'. She went to Newton +County an' hired out. She never wanted to stay in one place, nohow. If +she had a crop ha'f made an' somebody made her mad, she'd up an' leave +it an' go some'r's else.</p> + +<p>"You know, dey was mighty strict, 'bout den, wid cullud folks, an' white +people, too. De Kloo Kluxes was out nights. I hear'd tell 'bout 'em +whuppin' people. But dey never bothered me.</p> + +<p>"Dey was speakers gwine aroun', tellin' de Niggers what dey was gwine +a-git. Dey never got nothin' to my knowledge, 'cept de gov'ment let 'em +homestead lan'. My ma homesteaded a place close to Enterprise, Scott +County, but she got mad an' lef' it like she always done.</p> + +<p>"She was a-gittin' long in years afore she got 'ligion. (She was good to +me after dat.) She couldn' learn de Lawd's Prayer, but she used to pray, +'Our Father, which are in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name. Thy mercy, Lawd, +You've showed to others; That mercy show to me. Amen.' She went to res' +in it, too.</p> + +<p>"I went to Enterprise, den to Meridian, nussin' (wet-nussin' when I +could) an' workin' out. I never worked in de fiel', if I could he'p it. +(Old Mis' hired me out as a nuss firs' when I was eight year old.)</p> + +<p>"When I come to Meridian, I cut loose. I's tellin' de truf! I's a woman, +but I's a prodigal. I used to be a old drunkard. My white folks kep' +tellin' me if I got locked up one more time dey wouldn' pay my fine. But +dey done it ag'in an' ag'in.</p> + +<p>"De Niggers called me 'Devil.' I was a devil 'til I got 'ligion. I warnt +baptized 'til 1887. Den I foun' peace. I had a vision. I tol' it to a +white lady an' she say, 'Susie, dat's 'ligion a-callin' you.' (But you +know, honey, white folks' 'ligion aint like Niggers' 'ligion. I know a +woman dat couldn' 'member de Lawd's Prayer, an' she got 'ligion out o' +prayin', 'January, February, March'.) I didn' join de church 'til 1891, +after I had a secon' vision. I's a member in good standin' now. I done +put all my badness b'hin' me, 'cept my temper. I even got dat under more +control.</p> + +<p>"I didn' used to be scared o' cunjers. I's scared now, 'cause I had it +done to me. I want to bed well an' healthy an' de nex' nornin' I couldn' +git up atall. I's tellin de truf. A cullud man done it. He was a +crippled man, an' mean as he could be. I was good to him, too. He tol' +me' bout it, hisse'f:</p> + +<p>"'He went to de graveyard an' got some o' de meanes' dirt he could fin' +(I don't know how he knowed which was de meanes' grave) an' put it under +my doorsill.' He sho' fix' me. I ask him how come he done it to me an' I +been so good to him. He smile kinda tickle-lak an' say, 'It's a good +thing you was good to me, 'cause, if you hadn' a-been you'd a-been dead +an' in yo' grave by now.'</p> + +<p>"I aint got nary soul what's kin to me dat I knows of. I don't want none +of 'em comin' to me now an' a-sayin', 'Don't you 'member yo' own +cousin?' My white folks he'p me when I needs it.</p> + +<p>"Dese young folks. Shucks! Chile, dey's worse'n what I was, only dey's +more slyer. Dat's all.</p> + +<p>"I's glad I'se got 'ligion, 'cause when I dies I's gwine to de 'Good +Place.'"</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="StierIsaac"></a> +<h3>Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County<br> +FEC<br> +Edith Wyatt Moore<br> +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless<br> +Edited, Clara E. Stokes<br> +<br> +ISAAC STIER<br> +Natchez, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>"Miss, my name is Isaac Stier, but folks calls me 'Ike.' I was named by +my pappy's young Marster an' I aint never tol' nobody all o' dat name. +It's got twenty-two letters in it. It's wrote but in de fam'ly Bible. +Dat's how I knows I'll be one hund'ed years old if I lives 'til de turn +o' de year. I was born in Jefferson County 'tween Hamburg an' Union +Church. De plantation joined de Whitney place an' de Montgomery place, +too. I b'longed to Marse Jeems Stowers. I don't rightly 'member how many +acres my Marster owned, but 'twas a big plantation wid eighty or ninety +head o' grown folks workin' it. No tellin' how many little black folks +dey was.</p> + +<p>"My mammy was Ellen Stier an' my pappy was Jordon Stier. He was bought +to dis country by a slave dealer from Nashville, Tennessee. Dey traveled +all de way through de Injun Country on afoot. Dey come on dat Trace +road. Twant nothin' but a Injun Trail.</p> + +<p>"When dey got to Natchez de slaves was put in de pen 'tached to de slave +markets. It stood at de forks o' St. Catherine Street an' de Liberty +road. Here dey was fed an' washed an' rubbed down lak race hosses. Den +dey was dressed up an' put through de paces dat would show off dey +muscles. My pappy was sol' as a twelve year old, but he always said he +was nigher twenty.</p> + +<p>"De firs' man what bought him was a preacher, but he only kep' 'im a +little while. Den he was sol' to Mr. Preacher Robinson. He was a +Methodis'.</p> + +<p>"De slaves was well treated when dey got sick. My Marster had a standin' +doctor what he paid by de year. Dey was a horspital building near de +quarters an' a good old granny woman to nuss de sick. Dey was five or +six beds in a room. One room was for mens an' one for wimmins. Us doctor +was name Richardson an' he tended us long after de war. He sho' was a +gent'man an' a powerful good doctor.</p> + +<p>"Us had a overseer on de place, but he warnt mean lak I'se heard o' +other folks havin'. He was Mr. William Robinson. He was good to +ever'body, both white an' cullud. Folks didn' min' workin' for him, +'cause, he spoke kin'. But dey dassen' sass 'im. He was poor. My pappy +b'longed to his pa, Mr. John Robinson. Dat was a nice fam'ly wid sho' +'nough 'ligion. Whilst dey warnt rich, dey had learnin'.</p> + +<p>"As a little tike I wore long slip-lak shirts. When dey sont me to town +I put on britches an' stuffed de tail o' my slip in 'em so's it pass' +for a shirt. I always lived in de Big House an' played wid de white +chillun. I sorta looked after' em. I carried 'em to school. Den whilst +dey was in school I roamed de woods a-huntin'. Sometimes I'd git a big +bag o' game, mos'ly used to feed de slaves.</p> + +<p>"My mistis was Miss Sarah Stowers an' she teached me how to read. She +teached me how to be mannerly, too. On church days I driv'[FN: drove] de +carriage. I was proud to take my folks to meetin'. I always set in de +back pew an' heard de preachin' de same as dey did.</p> + +<p>"De bes' times I can 'member always come 'roun' de Fourth o' July. Dat +was always de beginnin' o' camp-meetin'. Aint nothin' lak dat in dese +days.</p> + +<p>"Ever'body what had any standin' went. Dey cooked up whole trunks full +o' good things t'eat an' driv' over to de camp groun's. De preacher had +a big pavilion covered wid sweet-gum branches an' carpeted wid sawdust. +Folks had wagons wid hay an' quilts whar de men-folks slep'. De ladies +slep' in little log houses an' dey took dey feather beds wid' em. I +always driv' de carriage for my white folks. Whilst dey was a-worshipin' +I'd slip 'roun' an' tas' out o' dey basket. Ever' day I'd eat 'til I was +ready to bus'. One day I got so sick I thought I'd pop wide open. I +crawled down to de spring an' washed my face in col' water, but I kep' +gittin' worse an' worse. Den somebody called out: 'Captain Stier, yo' +Nigger's a-dyin'!' My marster called de doctor. He sho' was shamed in +public, 'cause, he knowed pos'tive I'd been a-pilferin' in dem baskets. +Dem sho' was good old days. I'd love to live' em over ag'in.</p> + +<p>"Us slaves mos'ly sung hymns an' sa'ms.[TR: footnote indicated but none +found] But I' member one song' bout a frog pond an' one 'bout 'Jump, Mr. +Toad.' I's too wordless to sing 'em now, but dey was funny. Us danced +plenty, too. Some o' de men clogged an' pidgeoned, but when us had +dances dey was real cotillions, lak de white folks had. Dey was always a +fiddler an', on Chris'mus an' other holidays, de slaves was' lowed to' +vite dey sweethearts from other plantations. I use to call out de +figgers: 'Ladies, sasshay, Gents to de lef, now all swing.' Ever'body +lak my calls an' de dancers sho' moved smooth an' pretty. Long after de +war was over de white folks would 'gage me to come' roun' wid de band +an' call de figgers at all de big dances. Dey always paid me well.</p> + +<p>"Old Mis' 'ud let us cook a gran' supper an' Marse 'ud slip us some +likker. Dem suppers was de bes' I ever et. Sometimes dey'd be wil' +turkey, fried fish, hot corn pone, fresh pork ham, baked yams, chitlins, +pop corn, apple pie, pound cake, raisins, an' coffee. Law, Miss! de +folks now-a-days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin', nowhow.</p> + +<p>"When de big war broke out I sho' stuck by my marster. I fit[FN: fought] +de Yankees same as he did. I went in de battles 'long side o' him an' +both fit under Marse Robert E. Lee. I reckon ever'body has heard 'bout +him. I seen more folks dan anybody could count. Heaps of 'em was all +tore to pieces an' cryin' to God to let 'em die. I toted water to dem in +blue de same as dem in gray. Folks wouldn' b'lieve de truf if I was to +tell all I knows 'bout dem ungodly times.</p> + +<p>"Fore de war I never knowed what it was to go empty. My marster sho' set +a fine table an' fed his people de highes'. De hongriest I ever been was +at de Siege o' Vicksburg. Dat was a time I'd lak to forgit. De folks et +up all de cats an' dogs an' den went to devourin' de mules an' hosses. +Even de wimmin an' little chillun was a-starvin'. Dey stummicks was +stickin' to dey backbones. Us Niggers was sufferin' so us took de sweaty +hoss blankets an' soaked 'em in mudholes where de hosses tromped. Den us +wrung' em out in buckets an' drunk dat dirty water for pot-likker. It +tasted kinda salty an' was strength'nin', lak weak soup.</p> + +<p>"I tell you, dem Yankees took us by starvation. Twant a fair fight. Dey +called it a vict'ry an' bragged 'bout Vicksburg a-fallin', but hongry +folks aint got no fight lef' in 'em. Us folks was starved into +surrenderin'.</p> + +<p>"De slaves spected a heap from freedon dey didn' git. Dey was led to +b'lieve dey would have a easy time—go places widout passes—an have +plenty o' spendin' money. But dey sho' got fooled. Mos' of 'em didn' +fin' deyse'ves no better off. Pussonally, I had a harder time after de +war dan I did endurin' slav'ry.</p> + +<p>"De Yankees passed as us frien's. Dey made big promises, but dey was +poor reliance. Some of' em meant well towards us, but dey was mistol' +'bout a heap o' things. Dey promised us a mule an' forty acres o' lan'. +Us aint seen no mule yet. Us got de lan' all right, but twant no +service. Fac' is, 'twas way over in a territory where nothin' 'ud grow. +I didn' know nothin' 'bout farmin', nowhow, I'd always been a coachman +an' play companion to de white chillun.</p> + +<p>"De war was over in May 1865, but I was captured at Vicksburg an' hel' +in jail 'til I 'greed to take up arms wid de Nawth. I figgered dat was +'bout all I could do, 'cause dey warnt but one war at Vicksburg an' dat +was over. I was all de time hopin' I could slip off an' work my way back +home, but de Yankees didn' turn me loose 'til 1866.</p> + +<p>"Den I worked in a saloon in St. Louis. Dat was 'bout all I knowed to +do. All de time I was a-cravin' to come back to Mississippi. It sho' +suits my tas' better'n anywhere I'se ever been.</p> + +<p>"When I landed back home my white folks welcome me. After awhile I +married a gal what was real smart 'bout farmin' an' chicken raisin'. So +us share-cropped an' raised a fam'ly. Somehow us always scrapped along. +Sometimes it was by de hardes', but us always had plenty t'eat.</p> + +<p>"All de cullud folks what lived to git back home took to de lan' ag'in. +If dey marster was dead dey went to his frien's an' offered to +share-crop. Dey was all plumb sick o' war. Is sho' is ongodly business. +I never will forgit de fearsome sight o' seein' men die 'fore dey time. +War sho' is de debbil's own work.</p> + +<p>"De Klu Klux Klan didn' bother me none. Course, I was feared of' em at +firs', but I soon learnt dat long as I b'haved myse'f an' tended my +business dey warnt after me. Dey sho' disastered dem what meddled wid de +white folks. Nobody but a smart Alec would a-done dat. Only Niggers +huntin' trouble mixed into white folks bus'ness. Onct or twict I seen +Klu Klux's ridin' by, but dey always traveled fas' an' I kep' my +mouf[FN: mouth] shut.</p> + +<p>"After de war my marster come back home. De fences was gone, de cattle +was gone, de money an' de Niggers was gone, too. On top o' all dat de +whole country was over-run an' plumb took over by white trash. It was +cautious times.</p> + +<p>"After awhile, robbers an' low down trash got to wearin' robes an' +pretendin' dey was Klu Klux's. Folks called dem de 'white caps.' Dey was +vicious, an' us was more scared of 'em dan us'd ever been o' de Klan. +When dey got likkered up de debbil sho' was turnt loose.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Jefferson Davis was pretty good' bout some things. But if he hadn' +a-been mulish he could-a 'cepted de proposition Mr. Abe Lincum made 'im. +Den slav'ry would-a lasted always. But he flew into a huff an' swore dat +he'd whip de Yankees wid corn stalks. Dat made Mr. Lincum mad, so he sot +about to free de slaves.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Lincum was a good man, but dey tells me he was poor an' never cut +much figger in his clothes. Dat's why he never did un'erstan' how us +felt' bout us white folks. It takes de quality to un'erstan' such +things.</p> + +<p>"Right now, I loves my marster an' his wife in de grave. Dey raised me +an' showed me kindness all dey lives. I was proud of 'em. At de present +time I's under treatment o' young Dr. Stowers, my marster's gran'chil'. +I trusts him an' he is sho' good to me.</p> + +<p>"I rents a place on Providence Plantation 'bout three miles south o' +Natchez. De trip to Natchez in a rickety old wagon is mos' too much in +de hot weather. My heart's mos' wore out. I can't las' long, 'cause I's +had a heap sposure[FN: exposure].</p> + +<p>"I's jus' a bag o' bones now, but onct I stood nearly six feet in my +stockings an' weighed 'bout one hundred an' eighty pounds. I was well +muscled, too. Now I's gittin' kinda gray an' gittin' bald at de same +time. Black folks lak me don't hardly ever git bald.</p> + +<p>"I's gittin' real feeble. De doctor say I got a bad heart. Sometimes I +jus' has to set on de curb an' res' myse'f a spell. I gits kinda +windless when I thinks 'bout all I been through.</p> + +<p>"My wife is been dead 'bout seventeen years an' my chillun is so +scattered dat I don't know where dey is. De folks I stays wid is +powerful good to me an' sees after me same as dey was my own. I reckon I +don't need nothin else.</p> + +<p>"Dis generation aint got much sense. Dey's tryin' to git somewheres too +fas'. None of 'em is sat'fied wid plain livin'. Dey wants too much.</p> + +<p>"Nobody needs more dan dey can use, nohow."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="SuttonJane"></a> +<h3>JANE SUTTON<br> +Gulfport, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Jane Sutton, ex-slave, is 84 years old. She is 5 feet, 6 inches tall and +weighs 130 pounds. She is what the Negroes themselves call a +"brown-skin."</p> + +<p>"I was born in Simpson County, near old Westville, on a big farm what +b'long to Marse Jack Berry. I was 12 years old when de surrender come, +so my ole Mis' say. Her name was 'Mis Ailsey an' all us cullud folks +call her 'Ole Mi's. She an' Old Marster had twelve chillun: Marthy, +'Lizabeth, Flavilia, Mary, Jack, Bill, Denson, Pink, Tally, Thomas, +Albert, and Frank.</p> + +<p>"My pappy's name was Steve Hutchins. He b'long to de Hutchins what live +down near Silver Creek. He jus' come on Satu'd'y night an' us don' see +much of 'im. Us call him 'dat man.' Mammy tol' us to be more 'spectful +to 'im 'cause he was us daddy, but us aint care nothin' 'bout 'im. He +aint never brung us no candy or nothin'.</p> + +<p>"My mammy was name Lucy Berry. She always go by de white folks name what +she live wid. She aint never marry. She had fo' boys an' three girls. +Dey was name Delia, Sarah, Ella, Nathan, Isom, Anderson, an' Pleas. She +work in de fiel' an Old Marster say she's de only woman on de place what +could plow lak a man.</p> + +<p>"I 'members my gran'ma, too. Us always call her 'Granny.' She say dey +stole her back in Virginny an' brung 'er to Mississippi an' sol' her to +Marse Berry. Her name was Hannah. She was my mammy's Mammy. I don' +'member nothin' 'bout my pappy's folks 'cause I never seen none of' em.</p> + +<p>"Old Marster was a rich man for dat day. He had a sawmill, a cotton gin, +an' a gris' mill. Us always had plenty t'eat an' wear. Dey spun an' +weaved dey own cloth an' made us clo'es out-a it.</p> + +<p>"I can jus' see de white folk's house now. It was a big house, nice an' +clean, but twant painted. It had a row o' rooms 'cross dis way an' +a-nother row dat way wid a hall between. Dey had plenty o' rooms for all +dem boys an' gals. Some of 'em was 'bout grown. De quarters[FN: slave +quarters] was in de back o' de house. De cook's house was closes' to de +Big House, den nex' was Granny's house where us stayed. Den come a long +row way down to de back fence.</p> + +<p>"Dey didn' have no overseer or driver. Dey was 'nough o' dem boys to +look after de work an' Old Marster say he don' need no overseer to look +after his slaves.</p> + +<p>"My white folks was all Baptis' an' dey made us go to church, too. De +church was called de Strong River Church. Dey had big baptisin's. I +'members when I joined de church. De white folks preacher baptised us in +de creek what run from Marse Berry's mill pond. I was dressed up in a +white lowell slip. When us dress' up in Sund'y clo'es us had caliker[FN: +calico] dresses. Dey sho' was pretty. I 'members a dress now dat Old +Marster bought for my granny. It was white an' yaller, an' it was de +prettiest thing I ever seen.</p> + +<p>"Us white folks was good to us. Dey warnt always a-beatin' an' +a-knockin' us 'roun'. De truf is you couldn' fin' a scar on nary one o' +us. 'Course, some times dey whup us, but dey didn' gash us lak some o' +de old marsters did dey Niggers.</p> + +<p>"When Old Marster died I didn' know nothin' bout him bein' sick. He took +a cramp colic in de night an' was dead 'fore mornin'. I hear somebody +a-cryin' at de Big House an' Granny tol' us dat Old Marster done die in +de night. Dey had a big fun'al an' all de folks come. De men carried him +to de graveyard by de church. Dey didn' have no hearses dem days. Twant +far to de graveyard so dey jus' toted de coffin to whar dey buried 'im. +Dey put flowers in cups an' vases on de grave, so's dey wouldn' wilt.</p> + +<p>"Us was all sorry when Old Marster died, I cried 'cause I said, 'Now us +won' git no more candy.' He used to bring us candy whan he went to town. +Us'd be lookin' for 'im when he come home. He'd say, 'Whars all my +little Niggers?' Den us'd come a-runnin' an' he'd han' it to us out-a +his saddle bags. It was mos'ly good stick candy.</p> + +<p>"I 'members de paterollers. Whenever de cullud folks would slip off an' +have dey frolics dout gittin' a pass from Old Marster de paterollers +would come. Lots-a time dey'd come while us was a-dancin' an' a-havin' a +big time. Dem paterollers would swarm in de room lak a lot o' bees. Fore +anybody knowed it, dey'd begin grabbing at de mens. If dey didn' have +dey pass wid 'em dey took 'em down in de woods an' whup 'em for runnin' +off wid out asking dey white folks. Dey didn' bother de wimnins much. De +wimmins mos' always got away while dey was catchin' de mens.</p> + +<p>"Onct I slipped off wid another gal an' went to a party dout asking Old +Mis'. When dem Night Riders come dat night, de Niggers was a-runnin' an' +a-dodgin' an' a-jumpin' out-a winders lak dey was scairt to death. I +runs too, me an' dat other gal. I fell down an' tore my dress, but I +warnt studyin' dat dress. I knows dat dem white folks had dat strap an' +I's gittin' 'way fas' as I could.</p> + +<p>"When Miss 'Lizabeth got married to Mr. Ras Laird, dey had a big weddin' +an' all dey folks come to see 'em married. Den dey went to live in +Rankin County an' took me wid 'em. Old Marster had give me to Miss +'Lizabeth.</p> + +<p>"I 'members when de Yankees come to de house. Us heard dey was comin', +so us hid all de hams an' shoulders up in de lof' o' de Big House. Dey +didn' git much. Dey was so mad dey jus' tore up some of Old Mis' clo'es +what was in de wardrobe. Us was sho' scairt of 'em.</p> + +<p>"I 'members dey promise to give de cullud folks all kin' o' things. Dey +never give 'em nothin' dat I know's about. Us was jus' turnt loose to +scratch for us ownse'ves. Us was glad to stay on wid de white folks, +'cause dey was de bes' frien's us had. I don' know nobody what got a +thing 'cept what Old Marster an' Old Mis' give 'em.</p> + +<p>"After freedom I went back to 'Old Mis'. I walked all de way back from +Rankin County. It was a long way, but I wanted to see Old Mis' an' my +Mammy an' my brothers an' sisters.</p> + +<p>"When de surrender come by pappy come to git me. I didn' wan'-a go. I +tol' 'im I's gwine stay wid Old Mis'. So he goes an' gits de sheriff an' +takes me anyway. I runned away twict an' come back to Old Mis'. He +whupped me de firs' time, but de nex' time I hid from him an' he couldn' +catch me. He went back home an' 'lemme 'lone. Den I went wid my mammy to +live wid Marse Tally Berry. He was one of Old Marster's sons. Dey used +to come an' tell me dat dat old Nigger was gwine kill me if I didn' come +wid him. But I jus' stayed hid out till he went away.</p> + +<p>"I spec' all my white folks is dead now. I wish I could go back to 'em +now. Dey help me. Dey was good to us after de War was over. Dis one +would want me to live wid dem, den de other one would want me to live +wid dem. Sometimes I quit one an' go live wid de other one. All of 'em +sho' did treat me good. I's havin' a heap harder time now dan I ever had +in slav'ry times. I sho' is.</p> + +<p>"Dey raised de young folks better dem days. Dey learnt 'em to work. Dey +didn' min' work. Today dey don' care 'bout nothin' but havin' a good +time. Dey ain' studyin' 'bout no hereafter, neither.</p> + +<p>"De Relief give me a little somethin' t'eat an' wear one time, but dey +aint never give me no money. I's old an' needy, but I's trustin' de Lord +an' de good white folks to he'p me now. All de white folks I used to +work for has moved away from town now. I don' have nobody to look to but +my daughter. She looks after me de bes' she can. Dey is some neighbor +wimmins dat comes an' sets wid me sometimes.</p> + +<p>"I's gittin' deaf an' I aint got a tooth lef' in my head. I's too feeble +to he'p make a livin', but maybe I'll git dat Old Age Pension 'fore I +die."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilliamsMollie"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[MOLLIE WILLIAMS<br> +Terry, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<a name="img_WM"></a> + +<center><p> +<img src="images/mwilliams.jpg" width="250" height="416" +alt="Mollie Williams"></p> +</center> +<br> + +<p>Mollie Williams, who lives two miles west of Terry, Miss., tells her +story:</p> + +<p>"Iffen I lives' til nex' September 15, I'll be eighty fo'! I was born +'bout three miles frum Utica on de Newsome place. Me an' brudder Hamp +b'longed to Marse George Newsome. Marse George was named afte' George +Washington up in Virginny whar he come frum. Miss Margurite was our +mistiss. My mammy? Well, I'll have to tell you now 'bout her.</p> + +<p>"You see, Marse George come off down here frum Virginny lak young folks +venturin' 'bout, an' mar'ied Mis' Margurite an' wanted to start up +livin' right over thar near Utica whar I was born. But Marse George was +po', an' he sho' foun' out ye can't make no crop wid'out'n a start of +darkies, so he writ home to Virginny fer to git some darkies. All dey +sont him was fo' mens an' old Aunt Harriet fer to cook.</p> + +<p>"One day Marse George an' his Uncle, Mr. John Davenport—now thar was a +rich man fer ye, why, he had two carri'ge drivers—dey rid over to Grand +Gulf whar dey was a sellin' slabes offen de block an' Mr. John tol' +Marse George to pick hisself out a pair of darkies to mate so's he could +git hisself a start of darkies fer to chop his cotton an' like. So Marse +George pick out my pappy fust. My pappy come frum North Ca'lina. Den he +seen my mammy an' she was big an' strengthy an' he wanted her pow'ful +bad. But lak I tol' you, he didn' have 'nough money to buy 'em both, so +his Uncle John say he'd buy mammy an' den he would loan her over to +Marse George fer pappy. An' de fust chile would be Mr. John's, an' de +secon' Marse George's, an' likewise. Mammy was a Missourian name Marylin +Napier Davenpo't. An' pappy was name Martin Newsome.</p> + +<p>"Darkies libed in li'l old log houses wid dirt chimbleys. Dat is, de +rest of de darkies did. Dey kep' me up in de Big House, bein' mammyless +lak. Mos'ly I slep' in de trun'le bed wid Miss Mary Jane till I got so +bad dey had to mek a pallet on de flo' fer me. Dey was Mr. Bryant, Mr. +A.D., Miss Martha, Miss Ann, Miss Helen, Miss Mary Jane, an' Mr. George, +all b'longin' to Marse George an' Miss Margurite.</p> + +<p>"Mammy was a fiel' han'. She could plow an' wuk in de fiel's jes' lak a +man, an' my pappy, he done de same. Mammy, she hated house wuk—lak me. +I jes natu'lly loves to be out runnin' roun' in de fiel's an' 'bout. I +neber lak'd to do wuk roun' de house none t'all.</p> + +<p>"We wo' lowell clo'es an' brass toed brogans. Miss Margurite made our +dresses an' lak, an' afte' Aunt Harriet died, she done de cookin' too +fer all de slabes an' de fambly. She fix up dinner fer de fiel' han's, +an' I taken it to 'em. Marse George had old powder horn he blowed +mornin's far to git de darkies up 'fo day good, an' dey come in 'bout +sundown.</p> + +<p>"We growed corn an' taters an' cotton plentiful, an' we had gran' +orchids[FN: orchids] an' penders[FN: peanuts]. Den, sheeps an' hogs an' +cows an' lak.</p> + +<p>"Miss Margurite had a piany, a 'cordian, a flutena, an' a fiddle. She +could play a fiddle good as a man. Law, I heerd many as three fiddles +goin' in dat house many a time, an' I kin jes see her li'l old fair +han's now, playin' jes as fast as lightnin' a chune[FN: tune] 'bout</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Song]</b></p> + +<pre> +'My father he cried, my mother she cried, +I wasn' cut out fer de army. +O, Capt'in Gink, my hoss me think, +But feed his hoss on co'n an' beans +An s'port de gals by any means! +'Cause I'm a Capt'in in de army.' +</pre> + +<p>"All us chullun begged ter play dat an' we all sing an' dance—<u>great +goodness</u>!</p> + +<p>"One song I 'member mammy singin':</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Song]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Let me nigh, by my cry, +Give me Jesus. +You may have all dis world, +But give me Jesus.' +</pre> + +<p>"Singin' an' shoutin', she had 'ligion all right. She b'longed to Old +Farrett back in Missouri.</p> + +<p>"We didn' git sick much, but mammy made yeller top tea[FN: dog fennel] +fer chills an' fever an' give us. Den iffen it didn' do no good, Miss +Margurite called fer Dr. Hunt lak she done when her own chullun got +sick.</p> + +<p>"None of de darkies on dat place could read an' write. Guess Miss Helen +an' Miss Ann would'a learned me, but I was jes so bad an' didn' lak to +set still no longer'n I had to.</p> + +<p>"I seen plenty of darkies whupped. Marse George buckled my mammy down +an' whupped her 'cause she run off. Once when Marse George seen pappy +stealin' a bucket of 'lasses an' totin' it to a gal on 'nother place, he +whupped him but didn' stake him down. Pappy tol' him to whup him but not +to stake him—he'd stan' fer it wid'out de stakin'—so I 'member he +looked jes lak he was jumpin' a rope an' hollering', '<u>Pray +Marser</u>', ever time de strop hit 'im.</p> + +<p>"I heered 'bout some people whut nailed de darkies years[FN: ears] to a +tree an' beat' em but I neber seen none whupped dat way.</p> + +<p>"I neber got no whuppins frum Marse George 'cause he didn' whup de +chulluns none. Li'l darky chullun played 'long wid white chullun. Iffen +de old house is still thar I 'spec you kin fin' mud cakes up under de +house whut we made out'n eggs we stole frum de hen nests. Den we milked +jes anybody's cows we could ketch, an' churned it. We's all time in ter +some mischief.</p> + +<p>"Thar was plenty dancin' 'mong'st darkies on Marse George's place an' on +ones nearby. Dey danced reels an' lak in de moonlight:</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Songs]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Mamma's got de whoopin' cough, +Daddy's got de measles, +Dat's whar de money goes, +Pop goes de weasel.' + + +'Buffalo gals, can't you come out tonight, +Come out tonight, an' dance by de light of de moon?' + + +'Gennie, put de kettle on, +Sallie, boil de water strong, +Gennie, put de kittle on +An' le's have tea!' + + +'Run tell Coleman, +Run tell everbody +Dat de niggers is arisin'!' + + +'Run nigger run, de patterrollers ketch you— +Run nigger run, fer hits almos' day, +De nigger run; de nigger flew; de nigger los' +His big old shoe.' +</pre> + +<p>"When de War come, Marse George went to fight back in Virginny. Us all +thought de Yankees was some kin' of debils an' we was skeered to death +of 'em.</p> + +<p>"One day Miss Mary Jane, Helen, an' me was playin' an' we seen mens all +dressed in blue coats wid brass buttons on dey bosoms ridin' on big fine +hosses, drive right up to our po'ch an' say to Aunt Dalia whar she was +sweepin':</p> + +<p>"'Good morning, Madam, no men's about?'</p> + +<p>"When she tol' 'em wa'nt no mens 'bout, day ax fer de keys to de +smokehouse an' went out an' hap'ed deyse'ves an' loaded dey wagons. Den +dey went out in de pasture 'mongst de sheeps an' killed off some of dem. +Nex' dey went in de buggy house an' all together shuck down de carri'ge +so we neber could use hit no mo'. Yessum, dey done right smart of +mischief 'roun' thar.</p> + +<p>"Some of de darkies went off wid de Yankees. My brudder Howard did, an' +we ain't heerd tell of him since. I'll tell you 'bout it. You see, Mr. +Davenpo't owned him an' when he heard 'bout da Yankees comin' dis way, +he sont his white driver an' Howard in de carri'ge wid all his valuables +to de swamp to hide, an' while dey was thar de white driver, he went off +to sleep an' Howard was prowlin' 'roun' an' we all jes reckin he went on +off wid de Yankees.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Superstition]</b></p> + +<p>"You mean hoo doo? Dat's whut ma pappy done to my mammy. You see, dey +was allus fussin' 'bout fust one thing, den 'nother, an' mammy got mad +'caus'n pappy slipped her clo'es out'n her ches' an' taken over to de +other gals fer to dance in, an' when he brung' em back mammy would see +finger prints on' em whar he been turnin' 'em 'roun' an' she sho' be mad +an' fight him. She could lick him too caus'n she was bigger. One day +pappy come in an' say to mammy:</p> + +<p>"'Does you want to be bigger an' stronger dan whut you already is?' An' +mammy say she did. So nex' day he brung her a li'l bottle of somethin' +blood red wid somethin' looked like a gourd seed in de middle of it, an' +he tol' her to drink hit iffen she want to be real strong. Frum de fust +drink she fell off. Place of walkin' off, she jes stumbled an' got +wo'ser an' wo'ser till she plum los' her min'. Fer a long time, dey had +to tie her to a tree. Den afte' de War, she lef Mr. Davenpo't's an' jes +traveled 'bout over de country. I stayed on wid Miss Margurite he'pin' +her jes lak I'd been doin'. One day mammy come afte' me an' I run an' +hid under a pile of quilts an' laked to smothered to death waitin' fer +her to go on off.</p> + +<p>"Nex' time she come, she brung a written letter to Miss Margurite frum +de Free Man's Board an' taken me wid her. We jes went frum place to +place 'til I got mar'ied an' settled down fer myself. I had three +chullun, but ain't none livin' now."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="WilsonTom"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +[TOM WILSON<br> +near New Zion Church, Mississippi]</h3> +<br> + +<a name="img_WT"></a> + +<center><p> +<img src="images/twilson.jpg" width="252" height="412" +alt="Tom Wilson"></p> +</center> +<br> + +<p>"My name is Tom Wilson an' I'se eighty fo' years old. My mammy was name +Ca'line an' my pappy was Jeff Wilson. Us lived right out on de old Jim +Wilson place, right by New Zion Chu'ch. I lives thar now—owns me a plot +of groun' an' farms.</p> + +<p>"Well, us b'longed to Marse Jim an' Miss Nancy Wilson. I was born right +out thar, but my mammy was brung down frum Ten'see. She come by heir to +Marse Jim but 'fo that her was sol' for ten hun'erd dollars. My mammy +was a big sportly woman an' brung a lot er money an' my pappy, he brung +nine hun'erd. Marse Jim bought him offen de block, but I don't know jes +whar frum. I jes 'members 'bout hearin' him tell 'bout bein' sol'.</p> + +<p>"Bofe of dem was fiel' han's. Law, mammy could plow jes lak a man all +day long; den milk twen'y head er cows afte' she quit de fiel' at night.</p> + +<p>"De Big House was made out'n logs an' reckin hit had 'bout seben er +eight rooms in hit, an' de kitchen sot a piece frum de mainest house. +Thar was one brick chimbly an' one dirt one to hit, an' a great big wide +po'ch 'cross de front of de house. I 'member Mis Nancy an' white folks +'ud set out thar of an evenin' an' mek us li'l cullud chullun dance an' +sing an' cut capers fer to 'muse 'em. Den dey had a trough, built 'bout +lak a pig trough, an' dey would mek de cook bake a gre't big slab er +co'n bread an' put hit in de trough an' po' milk or lasses over hit, an' +tu'n us li'l cullud chullun loose on hit. An' I'se tell'n y' as much of +hit went in our hair an' eyes an' years[FN: ears] as went in our +moufs[FN: mouths].</p> + +<p>"I reckin thar was' bout two er three hun'erd acres in Marse Jim's +place. Us raised cotton, taters, an' hogs. No'm, slaves didn' have no +plots er dey own. Marse Jim give us our rashins' every week. Well, mos' +er de cullud people 'ud cook dey victuals over de fire place in dey own +houses. Us sho' did have 'possum an' taters.</p> + +<p>"My mammy wuked in de loom room at night by light of a pine knot. In de +Big House dey had taller[FN: tallow] can'les 'cause I 'member my mammy +moulded 'em. No'm, de spinnin' wheels was kep' in de kitchen of de Big +House. Hit had a dirt flo'. Us jes wo' li'l old suits made out'n lowell +cloth whut mammy wove on de loom. I doan 'member wearin' no shoes.</p> + +<p>"I jes played roun' 'bout de place an' he'ped wid de cleanin' up an' +dish washin'. Kinder house boy, I was.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Medicine]</b></p> + +<p>"When us got sick, mammy made us pills out'n herbs. She taken May apple +roots an' boiled hit down to a syrup; den she let dat, dry out an' +rolled hit inter pills. Day sho' was fin' fo' mos' anything we might +have.</p> + +<p>"Chris'mus was a mighty glad time fo' us. Yessum, us got extra rashins' +an' had time off ter play an' kick our heels. Gen'ly[FN: generally] had +'bout a week off. Tell you what Marse Jim 'ud do when Chris'mus come +'roun'. He'd sen' one of da cullud mans out to git a log an' say, 'Now +long as dis log burn, y'all kin have off'n wuk'. Co'se us'd hunt de +bigges' gum log an' den soak hit in de stream so hit wud burn on a long +time. Dey'd put hit on back er de fire an' hit wud las' mos' a week.</p> + +<p>"Couldn' none of us read or write, an' us wa'nt neber learned 'til afte' +us was set free. Den some went to li'l schools fer da cullud people.</p> + +<p>"I sho' has seen m' mammy an' lots mo' git whuppins. Marse Jim, he had a +strop er leather stuck in de slit end of a staff, an' he sho' did whup +'em layed 'cross a barrel. Once' m' pappy run away an' Marse Jim got de +blood houn's afte' him, an' catched him up 'fo he could git fur, an' dat +day he lay him 'cross de barrel, an' whupped him frum sun up til sun +down. When he quit off, m' pappy couldn' talk no more'n a whisper +sca'cely.</p> + +<p>"Pattyrollers, I heard of 'em allright 'cause dey sho' would git you +iffen y' went abroad widout a pass frum Marse Jim.</p> + +<p>"One day us li'l cullud chullun was frollicin' out in de front yard an' +Mis' Nancy an' some mo' was settin' on de po'ch an' all of a sudden I +see somebuddy comin' down de road an' I says 'Look, whut's dat?'</p> + +<p>"An' white folks run to de woods an' hid out caze dey seen hit was +Calv'ry 'bout a mile long comin' down de road. Sojer rid right up to me +an' stuck his bay'net at me an' says, 'Boy, whar de tater house?' An' I +sho' did show him whar 'twas. Dem sojers sho' was starved. Dey take +thirty tater punks, fifteen er twenty chickens, and five hams. Den dey +went in de smoke house an' grabbed off five er ten poun's er sausage, +middlln's, and sides. Dey take 'nough grub to load three wagons an' take +hit over to New Zion Church 'bout er mile frum us. An' right thar dey +camped that night.</p> + +<p>"That was afte' de Siege er Vicksburg. Marse Jim didn' keer, but he sent +us ober nex' mo'nin' to git de leavin's, an' thar was a wagon load er +jes de leavin's.</p> + +<p>"I 'members when us was sot free allright. 'Twas in de middle of da +winter y' know, an' Marse Jim was so mad 'bout hit he went off down to a +li'l stream or water an' broke de ice an' jumped in, an' he died 'bout +two weeks afte' of de pewmonia[FN: pneumonia].</p> + +<p>"I was glad to git m' freedom 'cause I got out'n frum under dem +whuppins.</p> + +<p>"Afte' dat us bought lan' frum de Wilsons whut was lef' an' I been a +fa'min' thar ever since."</p> + + + + +<br><br><hr width="65%"><br><br> +<a name="YoungClaraC"></a> +<h3>Mississippi Federal Writers<br> +Slave Autobiographies<br> +<br> +CLARA C. YOUNG<br> +Monroe County, Mississippi</h3> +<br> + +<p>Clara G. Young, ex-slave, Monroe County, is approximately 95 years old, +about five feet two inches tall, and weighs 105 pounds. She is a frail, +dark skinned Negro, with the typical broad nose and the large mouth of +the southern Negro. Her physical condition is especially good for a +woman of her age. She is very talkative at times, but her memory appears +to come and go, so that she has to be prompted at intervals in her +story-telling by her daughter or granddaughter, with whom she lives. +Familiarly known as "Aunt Classie," she is very proud of her age and +more especially of her long line of descendants.</p> + +<p>"Law, Miss, I doan know when I was born, but I do know dat I'se +sebenteen years old when I was fust sol'. Dey put me an' my brudder up +on de auction block at de same time. He brung $1400 but I dis'members +zactly what dey paid far me. Wa'nt dat much, tho', fer big strong mans +brung mo' dan wimmens an' gals."</p> + +<p>Long pauses accentuated the quavery voice of the old Negro, whose head +resembled a nappy patch of cotton, and who was so enthusiastic over +reminiscing about the days when she was young and carefree.</p> + +<p>"I was born in Huntsville, Alabamy, an' my mammy an' pappy was name +Silby an' Sharper Conley. Dey tuk de las' name frum de old marster dat +owned 'em. I lived dar wid 'em 'til de chullun drew dey parts an' us was +'vided out. While I was wid old marster, he let Miss Rachel—dat was his +wife—have me fer de house. She larned me how to cook an' wait on de +table, an' I declar', she call me her ver' smartest gal! Sometimes, +tho', I wouldn' come right quick lak when she ring de bell fer me, an' +she'd start ringin' it harder an' harder. I knowed den she was mad. When +I'd get dar, she'd fuss at me an' tu'n my dress up an' whup me—not hard +'cause she wa'nt so strong—<u>but I'd holler some</u>!</p> + +<p>"Dey had a nigger woman to teach all de house darkies how to read an' +write an' I larned how to sign my name an' got as fur as b-a-k-e-r in de +Blue Back Speller.</p> + +<p>"Marse Conley an' Miss Rachel had fo' chullun, Miss Mary, Miss Alice, +Miss Willie, an' Marse Andrew, an' when de time come, dey give me to +Marse Andrew. He car'ied me an' de rest out to Texas whar he thought he +would go an' git rich. We neber stayed long, tho', fer lots of de +niggers runned 'way to de Free State an' Marse Andrew didn' lak dat.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Pre-War Days]</b></p> + +<p>"It was when he brought us back to Huntsville dat I was sol'. All de +white folks was a gittin' scared dey was gwineter lose dey slaves an' +dere was a pow'ful lot er nigger sellin' goin' on den. Marse Ewing +bought me frum him an' car'ied me to his plantation near Aberdeen, +Mississippi. Den I started to workin' in de fiel' wid de rest of de +hands. De oberseer dat we had was right mean to us when we didn' work +our rows as fas' as de others, an' sometime he whup us, wimmen an' all. +When he did dat some of us most nigh allus tell de marster an' he would +jump on de oberseer an' tell him to lay off de wimmen an' chullun. Dey +was allus sort of thoughtful of us an' we loved old marster.</p> + +<p>"I heerd tell one time, tho', of de hired man (he was a nigger) an' de +oberseer whuppin' one of my cousins 'til she bled; she was jes' +sebenteen years old an' was in de fambly way fer de fust time, an' +couldn' work as hard as de rest. Nex' mawnin' afte' dat she died. De +hired man tol' de rest if dey said anything 'bout it to de marster, he'd +beat dem to death, too, so ever'body kep' quiet an' de marster neber +knowed.</p> + +<p>"We worked hard in de fiel' all day, but when dark come we would all go +to de Quarters an' afte' supper we would set 'roun' an' sing an' talk. +Mos' of de time we had good food to eat 'cause mos' of us had our +gardens, an' de Quarters cook would fix what we wanted if we brung it to +her. Durin' de last years 'fo de surrender, we didn' have much to eat +tho'; an' made out de best we could.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Religion]</b></p> + +<p>"De mos' fun we had was at our meetin's. We had dem mos' ever' Sunday +an' dey lasted way into de night. De preacher I laked de bes' was name +Mathew Ewing. He was a comely nigger, black as night, an' he sho' could +read out of his han'. He neber larned no real readin' an' writin' but he +sho' knowed his Bible an' would hol' his han' out an' mek lak he was +readin' an' preach de purtiest preachin' you ever heered. De meetin's +last frum early in de mawnin' 'til late at night. When dark come, de men +folks would hang up a wash pot, bottom up'ards, in de little brush +church-house us had, so's it would catch de noise an' de oberseer +wouldn' hear us singin' an' shoutin'. Dey didn' min' us meetin' in de +day time, but dey thought iffen we stayed up ha'f de night we wouldn' +work so hard de nex' day—an' dat was de truf.</p> + +<p>"You should'a seen some of de niggers get 'ligion. De best way was to +carry 'em to de cemetery an' let 'em stand ober a grave. Dey would start +singin' an' shoutin' 'bout sein' fire an' brimstone; den dey would sing +some mo' an' look plum sanctified.</p> + +<p>"When us had our big meetin's, dere would allus be some darkies frum de +plantations aroun' to come. Dey would have to slip off 'cause dey +marsters was afraid dey would git hitched up wid some other black boy er +gal on de other plantation an' den dey would either have to buy er sell +a nigger 'fo you could git any work out of him.</p> + +<p>"We neber knowed much bout de War, 'cept dat we didn' have as much to +eat er wear, an' de white men folks was all gone. Den, too, Old Miss +cried a lot of de time.</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Reconstruction]</b></p> + +<p>"De Yankees come 'roun' afte' de War an' tol' us we's frea an' we +shouted an' sang, an' had a big celebration fer a few days. Den we got +to wonderin' 'bout what good it did us. It didn' feel no diffrunt; we +all loved our marster an' missus an' stayed on wid 'em jes' lak nothin' +had happened. De Yankees tried to git some of de men to vote, too, but +not many did 'cause dey was scared of de Ku Kluxers. Dey would come at +night all dressed up lak ghosts an' scare us all. We didn' lak de +Yankees anyway. Dey wa'nt good to us; when dey lef' we would allus sing +dat leetle song what go lak dis:</p> +<br> + +<p><b>[HW: Song]</b></p> + +<pre> +'Old Mister Yankee, think he is so grand, +Wid his blue coat tail a draggin' on de ground!' +</pre> + +<p>"I stayed on wid Old Marster afte' de surrender, wid de res', 'til I met +Joshua. Joshua Young was his name an' he b'longed to de Youngs whut +lived out at Waverly. I moved out dar wid him afte' we mar'ied. We didn' +have no big weddin' 'cause dere wa'nt much money den. We had a preacher +tho', an' den went along jes' lak we had allus been mar'ied.</p> + +<p>"Josh, he's been daid fer a long time now but we had a good life out at +Waverly an' many a night stood outside de parlor do' an' watch de white +folks at dey big dances an' parties. De folks was pow'ful nice to us an' +we raised a passel er chullun out dar. All of 'em 'ceptin' three be daid +now. George is de oldes' of those lef'. He's a bricklayer, carpenter, +preacher, an' mos anything else he 'cides to call hisse'f. He's got 19 +or 20 chullun, I dis'members which. Edith ain't got so many. She live up +North. I lives wid my other darter an' her gal. I named her afte' my +sisters. Her name is Anna Luvenia Hulda Larissa Jane Bell Young +McMillan. Dere may be more'n dat now, but anyways dere is five +generations livin'.</p> + +<p>"What I think 'bout slav'ry? Well, leetle Miss, I tell you, I wish it +was back. Us was a lot better off in dem days dan we is now. If dem +Yankees had lef us 'lone we'd been a lot happier. We wouldn' been on +'lief an' old age pension fer de las' three years. An' Janie May, here, +I b'lieve, sure as goodness, would'a been de Missus' very smartes' gal, +an' would'a stayed wid her in de Big House lak I did."</p> +<br> + +<p><b>Note:</b> This autobiography is exactly as related by the Negro to the field +worker with exception of a few changes in spelling. Phraseology is the +same.</p> + +<p>B.Y.</p> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: A Folk History of +Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES *** + +***** This file should be named 12055-h.htm or 12055-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/5/12055/ + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Slave Narratives: A Folk History of Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves + Mississippi Narratives + +Author: Work Projects Administration + +Release Date: April 15, 2004 [EBook #12055] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES *** + + + + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. Produced +from images provided by the Library of Congress, Manuscript Division. + + + + + + +[TR: ***] = Transcriber Note +[HW: ***] = Handwritten Note +[FN: ***] = Footnote + + + + +SLAVE NARRATIVES + + +A Folk History of Slavery in the United States +From Interviews with Former Slaves + + +TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY +THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT. +1936-1938 +ASSEMBLED BY +THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT +WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION +FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA +SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS + +Illustrated with Photographs + + +WASHINGTON 1941 + + + + +VOLUME IX + +MISSISSIPPI NARRATIVES + + + + +Prepared by +the Federal Writers' Project of +the Works Progress Administration +for the State of Mississippi + + + +INFORMANTS + +Allen, Jim + +Baker, Anna + +Cameron, John +Clark, Gus +Cornelius, James + +Davenport, Charlie + +Emanuel, Gabe + +Franks, Dora +Franks, Pet + +Henry, Nettie +Hodges, Fanny Smith +Holliday, Wayne + +Johnson, Prince + +Kennedy, Hamp + +Lucas, James + +McAllum, Sam +Moses, Charlie + +Necaise, Henri + +Singleton, Rev. James +Smith, Berry +Snow, Susan +Stier, Isaac +Sutton, Jane + +Williams, Mollie +Wilson, Tom + +Young, Clara C. + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + +Mollie Williams + +Tom Wilson + + + + +[TR: Footnotes have been moved to appear within the text.] +[TR: Informant names and locations that appear in brackets + have been drawn from interviews.] + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies +Jim Allen, Clay Co. +FEC +Mrs. Ed Joiner + +[JIM ALLEN +West Point, Mississippi] + + +Jim Allen, West Point, age 87, lives in a shack furnished by the city. +With him lives his second wife, a much older woman. Both he and his wife +have a reputation for being "queer" and do not welcome outside visitors. +However, he readily gave an interview and seemed most willing to relate +the story of his life. + +"Yas, ma'm, I 'members lots about slav'ry time, 'cause I was old 'nough. + +"I was born in Russell County, Alabamy, an' can tell you 'bout my own +mammy an' pappy an' sisters an' brudders. + +"Mammy's name was Darkis an' her Marster was John Bussey, a reg'lar old +drunkard, an' my pappy's name was John Robertson an' b'longed to Dr. +Robertson, a big farmer on Tombigbee river, five miles east of Columbus. +De doctor hisself lived in Columbus. + +"My sister Harriett and brudder John was fine fiel' hands an' Marster +kep' 'em in de fiel' most of de time, tryin' to dodge other white folks. + +"Den dere was Sister Vice an' brudder George. Befo' I could 'member +much, I 'members Lee King had a saloon close to Bob Allen's store in +Russell County, Alabama, and Marse John Bussey drunk my mammy up. I +means by dat, Lee King tuk her an' my brudder George fer a whiskey +debt. Yes, old Marster drinked dem up. Den dey was car'ied to Florida by +Sam Oneal, an' George was jes a baby. You know, de white folks wouldn't +often sep'rate de mammy an' baby. I ain't seen' em since. + +"Did I work? Yes ma'm, me an' a girl worked in de fiel', carryin' one +row; _you_ know, it tuk two chullun to mek one han'. + +"Did we have good eatins? Yes ma'm, old Marster fed me so good, fer I +was his pet. He never 'lowed no one to pester me neither. Now dis +Marster was Bob Allen who had tuk me for a whiskey debt, too. Marse +Bussey couldn't pay, an' so Marse Allen tuk me, a little boy, out'n de +yard whar I was playin' marbles. De law 'lowed de fust thing de man saw, +he could take. + +"I served Marse Bob Allen 'til Gen'al Grant come 'long and had me an' +some others to follow him to Miss'sippi. We was in de woods hidin' de +mules an' a fine mare. Dis was after Emanc'pation, an' Gen'al Grant was +comin' to Miss'sippi to tell de niggers dey was free. + +"As I done tol' you, I was Marse Allen's pet nigger boy. I was called a +stray. I slep' on de flo' by old Miss an' Marse Bob. I could'a slep' on +de trun'le bed, but it was so easy jes to roll over an' blow dem ashes +an' mek dat fire burn. + +"Ole Miss was so good, I'd do anything fer her. She was so good an' +weighed' round 200 poun's. She was Marse Bob's secon' wife. Nobody +'posed on me, No, Sir! I car'ied water to Marse Bob's sto' close by an' +he would allus give me candy by de double han'full, an' as many juice +harps as I wanted. De bes' thing I ever did eat was dat candy. Marster +was good to his only stray nigger. + +"Slave niggers didn't fare wid no gardens 'cept de big garden up at de +Big House, when fiel' han's was called to wuk out hers (old Miss). All +de niggers had a sight of good things to eat from dat garden an' smoke +house. + +"I kin see old Lady Sally now, cookin' for us niggers, an' Ruth cooked +in de white folk's kitchen. Ruth an' old Man Pleas' an' old Lady Susan +was give to Marse Bob when he mar'ied an' come to Sandford, Alabamy. + +"No, dere wa'nt no jails, but a guard house. When niggers did wrong, dey +was oft'n sent dere, but mos' allus dey was jes whupped when too lazy to +wuk, an' when dey would steal. + +"Our clo'es was all wove and made on de plan'ation. Our ever'day ones, +we called 'hick'ry strips.' We had a' plen'y er good uns. We was fitted +out an' out each season, an' had two pairs of shoes, an' all de snuff +an' 'bacco we wanted every month. + +"No, not any weddin's. It was kinder dis way. Dere was a good nigger +man an' a good nigger woman, an' the Marster would say, 'I knows you +both good niggers an' I wants you to be man an' wife dis year an' raise +little niggers; den I won't have to buy' em.' + +"Marse Bob lived in a big white house wid six rooms. He had a cou't +house an' a block whar he hired out niggers, jes like mules an' cows. + +"How many slaves did us have? Les' see. Dere was old Lady Sally an' her +six chullun an' old Jake, her husban', de ox driver, fer de boss. Den +dere was old Starlin', Rose, his wife an' fo' chullun. Some of dem was +mixed blood by de oberseer. I sees 'em right now. I knowed de oberseer +was nothin' but po' white trash, jes a tramp. Den dere was me an' +Katherin. Old Lady Sally cooked for de oberseers, seven miles 'way frum +de Big House. + +"Ever'body was woke up at fo' o'clock by a bugle blowed mos'ly by a +nigger, an' was at dey work by sun-up. Den dey quits at sunset. I sho' +seed bad niggers whupped as many times as dere is leaves on dat groun'. +Not Marse Bob's niggers, but our neighbors. We was called 'free,' 'cause +Marse Bob treated us so good. The whuppin' was done by de oberseer or +driver, who would say as he put de whup to de back, '_Pray sir, pray +sir_!' + +"I seed slaves sol' oft'ener dan you got fingers an' toes. You know I +tol' you dere was a sellin' block close to our sto'. Den plen'y niggers +had to be chained to a tree or post 'cause he would run 'way an' wouldn' +wuk. + +"Dey would track de runways wid dogs an' sometimes a white scal'wag or +slacker wud be kotched dodgin' duty. I seed as many deserters as I see +corn stalks ober in dat fiel'. Dey would hide out in day time an' steal +at night. + +"No'm I didn' learn to read an' write but my folks teached me to be +honest an' min' Old Miss an' Granny. Dey didn' want us to learn how to +go to de free country. + +"We had a neighborhood chu'ch an bofe black an' white went to it. Dere +was a white preacher an' sometimes a nigger preacher would sit in de +pulpit wid him. De slaves set on one side of de aisle an' white folks on +de other. I allus liked preacher Williams Odem, an' his brudder Daniel, +de 'Slidin' Elder'.[FN: back slider] Dey come frum Ohio. Marse Bob Allen +was head steward. I' members lots of my fav'rite songs. Some of dem was, +_Am I born to Die_, _Alas and Did my Savior Bleed_, an' _Must I to de +Judgment be Brought_. The preacher would say 'Pull down de line and let +de spirit be a witnes, workin' fer faith in de future frum on high.' + +"I seed de patyrollers every week. If de niggers didn' get a pass in +han' right frum one plan'ation to 'nother, dem patyrollers would git +you. Dey would be six an' twelve in a drove, an' day would git you if +you didn' have dat piece of paper. No sun could go down on a pass. Dere +was no trouble twixt niggers den. + +"We lay down an' res' at night in de week time. Niggers in slav'ry time +riz up in de Quarters, you could hear 'em for miles. Den da cornshucking +tuk place. Den we would have singin'. When one foun' a red ear of corn, +dey would take a drink of whiskey frum de jug an' cup. We'd get through' +bout ten o'clock. De men did'n care if dey worked all night, fer we had +the 'Heav'nly Banners'[FN: women and whiskey] by us[HW:?]. + +"Sometimes we worked on Sat'day a'ternoon, owin' to de crops; but women +all knocked off on Sat'day a'ternoon. On Sat'day night, we mos'ly had +fun, playin' an drinking whiskey an' beer--no time to fool 'roun' in de +week time. + +"Some went to chu'ch an' some went fishin' on Sunday. On Chris'mas we +had a time--all kinds eatin'--wimmen got new dresses--men tobacco--had +stuff to las' 'til Summer. Niggers had good times in mos' ways in +slav'ry time. July 4th, we would wash up an' have a good time. We +hallowed dat day wid de white folks. Dere was a barbecue; big table set +down in bottoms. Dere was niggers strollin' 'roun' like ants. We was +havin' a time now. White folks too. When a slave died, dere was a to-do +over dat, hollerin' an' singin'. More fuss dan a little--'Well, sich a +one has passed out an we gwine to de grave to 'tend de fun'ral; we will +talk about Sister Sallie.' De niggers would be jumpin' as high as a cow +er mule. + +"A song we used to sing was" [HW: Sang] + + 'Come on Chariot an' Take Her Home, Take Her Home, + Here Come Chariot, les' ride, + Come on les' ride, Come on les' ride.' + +"Yessum we believed ha'nts would be at de grave yard. I didn' pay no' +tention to dem tho', for I know de evil spirit is dere. Iffen you don't +believe it, let one of 'em slap you. I ain't seed one, but I'se heard +'em. I seed someone, dey said was a ghos', but it got 'way quick. + +"When we got sick de doctor come at once, and Mistiss was right dere to +see we was cared fer. A doctor lived on our place. If you grunt he was +right dere. We had castor oil an' pills an' turpentine an' quinine when +needful, an' herbs was used. I can fin' dat stuff now what we used when +I was a boy. + + +[HW: Superstition] + +"Some of us wore brass rings on our fingers to keep off croup. Really +good--_good now_. See mine? + +"Yessum I knows all 'bout when Yankees come. Dey got us out'er de +swamp. I was layin' down by a white oak tree 'sleep, an' when I woke up +an' looked up an' saw nothin' but blue, blue, I said, 'Yonder is my +Boss's fine male hoss, Alfred. He 'tended dat horse hisself.' He took it +to heart, an' he didn' live long afte' de Blue Coats took Alfred. + +"Peace was declared to us fust in January in Alabamy, but not in +Miss'sippi 'til Grant come back, May 8th. + +"I ain't seen my boss since dem Yankees took me 'way. I was seven miles +down in de swamp when I was tuk. I wouldn' of tol' him goodbye. I jes +wouldn' of lef' him. No sir, I couldn' have lef' my good boss. He tol' +me dem Yankees was comin' to take me off. I never wanted to see him +'cause I would have went back 'cause he pertected me an' loved me. + +"Like dis week, I lef' de crowd. One day, Cap'in Bob McDaniel came by, +an' asked me if I wanted to mek fires an' wuk 'round de house. I said, +'I'd like to see de town whar you want me to go, an' den I come to West +Point. It wa'nt nothin' but cotton rows--lot of old shabby shanties, +with jes one brick sto', an' it b'longed to Ben Robertson, an' I +hope[FN: helped] build all de sto'es in West Point since den. + +"I seed de KuKlux. We would be workin'. Dem people would be in de fiel', +an' must get home 'fo dark an' shet de door. Dey wo' three cornered +white hats with de eyes way up high. Dey skeered de breeches off'n me. +First ones I got tangled up wid was right down here by de cemetery. Dey +just wanted to scare you. Night riders was de same thing. I was one of +de fellers what broke 'em up. + +"Old man Toleson was de head leader of de Negroes. Tryin' to get Negroes +to go 'gainst our white people. I spec' he was a two faced Yankee or +carpetbagger. + +"We had clubs all 'round West Point. Cap'in Shattuck out about Palo Alto +said to us niggers one day, 'Stop your foolishness--go live among your +white folks an' behave. Have sense an' be good citizens.' His advice was +good an' we soon broke up our clubs. + +"I ain't been to no school 'cept Sunday School since Surrender. A good +white man I worked with taught me 'nough to spell 'comprestibility' and +'compastibility.' I had good 'membrance an' I could have learned what +white folks taught me, an' dey sees dey manners in me. + +"I mar'ied when I was turnin' 19, an' my wife, 15. I mar'ied at big +Methodist Chu'ch in Needmore. Same old chu'ch is dere now. I hope build +it in 1865. Aunt Emaline Robertson an' Vincent Petty an' Van McCanley +started a school in de northeast part of town two years afte' de War. + +"Emaline was Mr. Ben Robertson's cook, an' her darter, Callie, was his +housekeeper, an' George an' Walter was mechanics. George became a school +teacher. + +"Abraham Lincoln worked by 'pinions of de Bible. He got his meanin's +from de Bible. 'Every man should live under his own vine and fig tree.' +Dis was Abraham's commandments. Dis is where Lincoln started, 'no one +should work for another.' + +"Jefferson Davis wanted po' man to work for rich man. He was wrong in +one 'pinion, an' right in t'other. He tried to take care of his Nation. +In one instance, Lincoln was destroying us. + +"I j'ined the church to do better an' to be with Christians an' serve +Christ. Dis I learned by 'sociation an' harmonious livin' with black an' +white, old an' young, an' to give justice to all. + +"Be fust work I did after de War was for Mr. Bob McDaniel who lived near +Waverly on de Tombigbee River. Yes ma'am, I knowed de Lees, an' de +Joiners, but on de river den an' long afte', an' worked for 'em lots in +Clay County." + + + + +Anna Baker, Ex-slave, Monroe County +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +ANNA BAKER +Aberdeen, Mississippi + + +Anna Baker, 80-year old ex-slave, is tall and well built. She is what +the Negroes term a "high brown." Her high forehead and prominent cheek +bones indicate that there is a strain of other than the pure African in +her blood. She is in fair health. + +"Lemme see how old I is. Well, I tells you jus' lak I tol' dat Home Loan +man what was here las' week. I 'members a pow'ful lot 'bout slavery +times an' 'bout 'fore surrender. I know I was a right smart size den, +so's 'cording to dat I mus' be 'roun' 'bout eighty year old. I aint sho' +'bout dat an' I don't want to tell no untruth. I know I was right smart +size 'fore de surrender, as I was a-sayin', 'cause I 'members Marster +comin' down de road past de house. When I'd see 'im 'way off I'd run to +de gate an' start singin' dis song to 'im: + + 'Here come de marster, root toot too! + Here come Marster, comin' my way! + Howdy, Marster, howdy do! + What you gwine a-bring from town today?' + +Dat would mos' nigh tickle him to death an' he'd say, 'Loosahna (dat was +his pet name for me) what you want today? I'd say, 'Bring me some +goobers, or a doll, or some stick candy, or anything. An' you can bet +yo' bottom doller he'd always bring me somp'n'. + +"One reason Marse Morgan thought so much o' me, dey say I was a right +peart young'n' an' caught on to anything pretty quick. Marster would +tell me, 'Loosanna, if you keep yo' ears open an' tell me what de +darkies talk 'bout, dey'll be somp'n' good in it for you.' (He meant for +me to listen when dey'd talk 'bout runnin' off an' such.) I'd stay +'roun' de old folks an' make lak I was a-playin'. All de time I'd be +a-listenin'. Den I'd go an' tell Marster what I hear'd. But all de time +I mus' a-had a right smart mind, 'cause I'd play 'roun' de white folks +an' hear what dey'd say an' den go tell de Niggers.--Don't guess de +marster ever thought 'bout me doin' dat. + +"I was born an' bred 'bout seven miles from Tuscaloosa, Alabama. I was +de baby of de fam'ly. De house was on de right han' side o' de road to +town. I had four sisters an' one brother dat I knows of. Dey was named +Classie, Jennie, Florence, Allie, an' George. My name was Joanna, but +dey done drap de Jo part a long time ago. + +"I don't recollec' what my ma's mammy an' pappy was named, but I know +dat her pappy was a full blooded Injun. (I guess dat is where I gits my +brown color.) Her mammy was a full blooded African though, a great big +woman. + +"I recollec' a tale ray mammy tol' me 'bout my gran'pa. When he took up +wid my gran'mammy de white man what owned her say, 'If you want to stay +wid her I'll give you a home if you'll work for me lak de Niggers do.' +He 'greed, 'cause he thought a heap o' his Black Woman. (Dat's what he +called her.) Ever'thing was all right 'til one o' dem uppity overseers +tried to act smart. He say he gwine a-beat him. My gran'pappy went home +dat night an' barred de door. When de overseer an' some o' his frien's +come after him, he say he aint gwine a-open dat door. Dey say if he +don't dey gwine a-break it in. He tell' em to go 'head. + +"Whilst dey was a-breakin' in he filled a shovel full o' red hot coals +an' when dey come in he th'owed it at 'em. Den whilst dey was +a-hollerin' he run away. He aint never been seen again to dis good day. +I'se hear'd since den dat white folks learnt dat if dey started to whip +a Injun dey'd better kill him right den or else he might git dem. + +"My mammy's name was Harriet Clemens. When I was too little to know +anything 'bout it she run off an' lef' us. I don't 'member much 'bout +her 'fore she run off, I reckon I was mos' too little. + +"She tol' me when she come after us, after de war was over, all 'bout +why she had to run away: It was on 'count of de Nigger overseers. (Dey +had Niggers over de hoers an' white mens over de plow han's.) Dey kep' +a-tryin' to mess 'roun' wid her an' she wouldn' have nothin' to do wid +'em. One time while she was in de fiel' de overseer asked her to go over +to de woods wid him an' she said, 'All right, I'll go find a nice place +an' wait.' She jus' kep'a-goin. She swum de river an' run away. She +slipped back onct or twict at night to see us, but dat was all. She +hired out to some folks dat warnt rich' nough to have no' slaves o' dey +own. Dey was good to her, too. (She never lacked for work to do.) + +"When my ma went off a old woman called Aunt Emmaline kep' me. (She kep' +all de orphunt chillun an' dem who's mammas had been sent off to de +breedin' quarters. When dem women had chillun dey brung 'em an' let +somebody lak Aunt Emmaline raise em.) She was sho' mean to me. I think +it was 'cause de marster laked me an' was always a-pettin' me. She was +jealous. + +"She was always a-tryin' to whip me for somethin' or nother. One time +she hit me wid a iron miggin. (You uses it in churnin'.) It made a bad +place on my head. She done it 'cause I let some meal dat she was +parchin' burn up. After she done it she got sort a scared an' doctored +me up. She put soot on de cut to make it stop bleedin'. Nex' day she +made me promise to tell de marster dat I hurt my head when I fell out o' +de door dat night he whip Uncle Sim for stealin' a hog. Now I was asleep +dat night, but when he asked me I said, 'Aunt Emmaline say tell you I +hurt my head fallin' out de door de night you whip Uncle Sim.' Den he +say, 'Is dat de truf?' I say, 'Naw sir.' He took Aunt Emmaline down to +de gear house an' wore her out. He wouldn' tell off on me. He jus' tol' +her dat she had no bus'ness a-lettin' me stay up so late dat I seen him +do de whippin'. + +"My pa was named George Clemens. Us was all owned by Marster Morgan +Clemens. Master Hardy, his daddy, had give us to him when he 'vided out +wid de res' o' his chillun. (Marster Morgan was a settled man. He went +'roun' by hisse'f mos' o' de time. He never did marry.) + +"My pa went to de war wid Marster Morgan an' he never come back. I don't +'member much 'bout 'em goin', but after dey lef' I 'member de Blue Coats +a-comin'. Dey tore de smoke house down an' made a big fire an' cooked +all de meat dey could hol'. All us Niggers had a good time, 'cause, dey +give us all us wanted. One of 'em put me up on his knee an' asked me if +I'd ever seen Marster wid any little bright 'roun' shiny things. (He +held his hand up wid his fingers in de shape of a dollar.) I, lak a +crazy little Nigger said, 'Sho', Marster draps 'em 'hind de +mantelpiece.' Den, if dey didn' tear dat mantel down an' git his money, +I's a son-of-a-gun! + +"After de war was over my ma got some papers from de progo[FN: provost] +marshal. She come to de place an 'tol' de marster she want her chillun. +He say she can have all 'cept me. She say she want me, too, dat I was +her'n an' she was gwine a-git me. She went back an 'got some more papers +an' showed 'em to Marster Morgan. Den he lemme go. + +"She come out to de house to git us. At firs' I was scared o' her, +'cause I didn' know who she was. She put me in her lap an' she mos' nigh +cried when she seen de back o' my head. Dey was awful sores where de +lice had been an' I had scratched 'em. (She sho' jumped Aunt Emmaline +'bout dat.) Us lef' dat day an' went right on to Tuscaloosa. My ma had +married again an' she an' him took turns 'bout carrying me when I got +tired. Us had to walk de whole seven miles. + +"I went to school after dat an' learnt to read an' write. Us had white +Yankee teachers. I learnt to read de Bible well' nough an' den I quit. + +"I was buried in de water lak de Savior. I's a real Baptis'. De Holy +Sperrit sho' come into my heart. + +"I b'lieves in de Sperrit. I b'lieves all o' us when us dies is +sperrits. Us jus' hovers 'roun' in de sky a-ridin' on de clouds. Course, +some folks is born wid a cloud over dey faces. Dey can see things dat us +can't. I reckon dey sees de sperrits. I know' bout dem Kloo Kluxes. I +had to go to court one time to testify 'bout' em. One night after us had +moved to Tuscaloosa dey come after my step-daddy. Whilst my ma an' de +res' went an' hid I went to de door. I warnt scared. I says, 'Marster +Will, aint dat you?' He say, 'Sho', it's me. Whar's yo' daddy?' I tol' +'im dat he'd gone to town. Den dey head out for 'im. In de meantime my +ma she had started out, too. She warned him to hide, so dey didn' git +'im. + +"Soon after dat de Yankees hel' a trial in Tuscaloosa. Dey carried me. A +man hel' me up an' made me p'int out who it was dat come to our house. I +say, 'Dat's de man, aint it Marster Will?' He couldn' say "No", 'cause +he'd tol' me twas him dat night. Dey put 'em in jail for six months an' +give 'em a big fine. + +"Us moved from Tuscaloosa while I was still a young girl an' went to +Pickensville, Alabama. Us stayed dar on de river for awhile an' den +moved to Columbus, Mississippi. I lived dar 'til I was old 'nough to git +out to myse'f. + +"Den I come to Aberdeen an' married Sam Baker. Me an' Sam done well. He +made good money an' us bought dis very house I lives in now. Us never +had no chillun, but I was lef' one by a cousin o' mine what died. I +raised her lak she was my own. I sont her to school an' ever'thing. She +lives in Chicago now an' wants me to come live wid her. But shucks! What +would a old woman lak me do in a place lak dat? + +"I aint got nothin' lef now 'cept a roof over my head. I wouldn' have +dat 'cept for de President o' de United States. Dey had loaned me some +money to fix up de house to keep it from fallin' down on me. Dey said +I'd have fifteen year to pay it back in. Now course, I knowed I'd be +dead in dat time, so I signed up wid' em. + +"Las' year de men dat collec' nearly worrit me to death a-tryin' to git +some money from me. I didn' have none, so dey say dey gwine a-take my +home. + +"Now I hear tell o' dat barefoot Nigger down at Columbus callin' de +president an' him bein' so good to 'im. So I 'cided to write an' tell +'im what a plight dis Nigger was in. I didn' say nothin noxious[FN: +obnoxious], but I jus' tol' him plain facts. He writ me right back an' +pretty soon he sont a man down to see me. He say I needn' bother no +more, dat dey won't take my house 'way from me. An' please de Lawd! Dey +aint nobody else been here a-pesterin' me since. + +"Dat man tol' me soon as de old age pension went th'ough I'd git thirty +dollars a mont' stid[FN: instead] o' de four I's a-gittin' now. Now +won't dat be gran'? I could live lak de white folks on dat much. + +"I'se had 'ligion all my born days. (I never learnt to read de Bible an' +'terpet de Word 'til I was right smart size, but I mus' o' b'lieved in +de Lawd since 'way back.) I'se gwine a-go right 'long an' keep +a-trustin' de good Lawd an' I knows ever'thing gwine a-come out all +right. + +"'Twixt de Lawd an' de good white folks I know I's gwine always have +somethin' t'eat. President Roosevelt done 'tended to de roof over my +head." + + + + +JOHN CAMERON +Jackson, Mississippi + + +John Cameron, ex-slave, lives in Jackson. He was born in 1842 and was +owned by Howell Magee. He is five feet six inches tall, and weighs about +150 pounds. His general coloring is blackish-brown with white kinky +hair. He is in fairly good health. + +"I'se always lived right here in Hinds County. I's seen Jackson grow +from de groun' up. + +"My old Marster was de bes' man in de worl'. I jus' wish I could tell, +an' make it plain, jus' how good him an' old Mistis was. Marster was a +rich man. He owned 'bout a thousand an' five hund'ed acres o' lan' an' +roun' a hund'ed slaves. Marster's big two-story white house wid +lightning rods standin' all 'bout on de roof set on top of a hill. + +"De slave cabins, 'cross a valley from de Big House, was built in rows. +Us was 'lowed to sing, play de fiddles, an' have a good time. Us had +plenty t' eat and warm clo'es an' shoes in de winter time. De cabins was +kep' in good shape. Us aint never min' workin' for old Marster, cause us +got good returns. Dat meant good livin' an' bein' took care of right. +Marster always fed his slaves in de Big House. + +"De slaves would go early to de fiel's an work in de cotton an' corn. +Dey had different jobs. + +"De overseers was made to un'erstan' to be 'siderate of us. Work went on +all de week lak dat. Dey got off from de fiel's early on Satu'd'y +evenin's, washed up an' done what dey wanted to. Some went huntin' or +fishin', some fiddled an' danced an' sung, while de others jus' lazed +roun' de cabins. Marse had two of de slaves jus' to be fiddlers. Dey +played for us an' kep' things perked up. How us could swing, an' +step-'bout by dat old fiddle music always a-goin' on. Den old Marster +come 'roun' wid his kin'ly smile an' jov'al sp'rits. When things went +wrong he always knowed a way. He knowed how to comfort you in trouble. + +"Now, I was a gardner or yard boy. Dat was my part as a slave. I he'ped +keep de yard pretty an' clean, de grass cut, an' de flowers' tended to +an' cut. I taken dat work' cause I lak's pretty flowers. I laks to buil' +frames for 'em to run on an' to train 'em to win' 'roun'. I could monkey +wid 'em all de time. + +"When folks started a-comin' through talkin' 'bout a-freein' us an' +a-givin' us lan' an' stuff, it didn' take wid Marster's slaves. Us didn' +want nothin' to come 'long to take us away from him. Dem a tellin' de +Niggers dey'd git lan' an' cattle an' de lak of dat was all foolis'ness, +nohow. Us was a-livin' in plenty an' peace. + +"De war broke out spite o' how Marster's Niggers felt. When I seen my +white folks leave for war, I cried myself sick, an' all de res' did too. +Den de Yankees come through a-takin' de country. Old Marster refugeed us +to Virginny. I can't say if de lan' was his'n, but he had a place for us +to stay at. I know us raised 'nough food stuff for all de slaves. +Marster took care o' us dere 'til de war ended. + +"Den he come to camp late one evenin' an tol' us dat us was free as he +was; dat us could stay in Virginny an work or us could come to +Mississippi wid him. Might nigh de whole passel bun'led up an' come +back, an' glad to do it, too. Dar us all stayed 'til de family all died. +De las' one died a few years ago an' lef' us few old darkies to grieve +over 'em. + +"I don' know much 'bout de Klu Klux Klan an' all dat. Dey rode 'bout at +night an' wore long white ghos'-lak robes. Dey whup folks an' had +meetin's way off in de woods at midnight. Dey done all kinds o' curious +things. None never did bother 'bout Marster's place, so I don' know much +'bout 'em. + +"After de War it took a mighty long time to git things a-goin' smooth. +Folks an' de Gov'ment, too, seem lak dey was all up-set an' threatened +lak. For a long time it look lak things gwine bus' loose ag'in. Mos' +ever'thing was tore up an' burned down to de groun'. It took a long time +to build back dout no money. Den twant de gran' old place it was de +firs' time. + +"I married when I was a young man. I was lucky 'nough to git de nex' +bes' woman in de worl'. (Old Mis' was de bes'.) Dat gal was so good 'til +I had to court 'er mos' two years 'fore she'd say she'd have me. + +"Us had six chillun. Three of 'em's still livin'. I can't say much for +my chillun. I don' lak to feel hard, but I tried to raise my chillun de +bes' I could. I educated 'em; even bought 'em a piano an' give em' +music. One of 'em is in Memphis, 'nother'n in Detroit, an' de other'n in +Chicago. I writes to 'em to he'p me, but don' never hear from 'em. I's +old an' dey is forgot me, I guess. + +"Dat seems to be de way of de worl' now. Ever'thing an' ever'body is too +fas' an' too frivoless[FN: frivilous] dese here times. I tell you, folks +ought to be more lak old Marster was. + +"I's a Christian an' loves de Lawd. I expects to go to him 'fore long. +Den I know I's gwine see my old Marstar an' Mistis ag'in." + + +BIBLIOGRAPHY + +John Cameron: Jackson, Mississippi. + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[GUS CLARK +Howison, Mississippi] + + +Uncle Gus Clark and his aged wife live in a poverty-stricken deserted +village about an eighth of a mile east of Howison. + +Their old mill cabin, a relic of a forgotten lumber industry, is +tumbling down. They received direct relief from the ERA until May, 1934, +when the ERA changed the dole to work relief. Uncle Gus, determined to +have a work card, worked on the road with the others until he broke down +a few days later and was forced to accept direct relief. Now, neither +Gus nor Liza is able to work, and the only help available for them is +the meager State Old Age Assistance. Gus still manages to tend their +tiny garden. + +He gives his story: + +"I'se gwine on 'bout eighty-five. 'At's my age now. I was born at +Richmond, Virginny, but lef' dare right afte' de War. Dey had done +surrendered den, an' my old marster doan have no mo' power over us. We +was all free an' Boss turned us loose. + +"My mammy's name was Judy, an' my pappy was Bob. Clark was de Boss's +name. I doan 'member my mammy, but pappy was workin' on de railroad +afte' freedom an' got killed. + +"A man come to Richmond an' carried me an' pappy an' a lot of other +niggers ter Loos'anna ter work in de sugar cane. I was little but he +said I could be a water boy. It sho' was a rough place. Dem niggers +quar'l an' fight an' kills one 'nother. Big Boss, he rich, an' doan 'low +no sheriff ter come on his place. He hol' cou't an' settle all 'sputes +hisself. He done bury de dead niggers an' put de one what killed him +back to work. + +"A heap of big rattlesnakes lay in dem canebrakes, an' dem niggers shoot +dey heads off an' eat 'em. It didn' kill de niggers. Dem snakes was fat +an' tender, an' fried jes lak chicken. + +"Dere in Loos'anna we doan get no pay 'til de work is laid by. Den we'se +paid big money, no nickels. Mos' of de cullud mens go back to where dey +was raised. + +"Dat was afte' freedom, but my daddy say dat de niggers earn money on +Old Boss' place even durin' slav'ry. He give 'em every other Sat'dy fer +deyse'ves. Dey cut cordwood fer Boss, wimmens an' all. Mos' of de mens +cut two cords a day an' de wimmens one. Boss paid 'em a dollar a cord. +Dey save dat money, fer dey doan have to pay it out fer nothin'. Big +Boss didn' fail to feed us good an' give us our work clo'es. An' he paid +de doctor bills. Some cullud men saved enough to buy deyse'ves frum +Boss, as free as I is now. + +"Slav'ry was better in some ways 'an things is now. We allus got plen'y +ter eat, which we doan now. We can't make but fo' bits a day workin' out +now, an' 'at doan buy nothin' at de sto'. Co'se Boss only give us work +clo'es. When I was a kid I got two os'berg[FN: Osnaberg: the cheapest +grade of cotton cloth] shirts a year. I never wo' no shoes. I didn' know +whut a shoe was made fer, 'til I'se twelve or thirteen. We'd go rabbit +huntin' barefoot in de snow. + +"Didn' wear no Sunday clo'es. Dey wa'nt made fer me, 'cause I had +nowhere ter go. You better not let Boss ketch you off'n de place, less'n +he give you a pass to go. My Boss didn' 'low us to go to church, er to +pray er sing. Iffen he ketched us prayin' er singin' he whupped us. He +better not ketch you with a book in yo' han'. Didn' 'low it. I doan know +whut de reason was. Jess meanness, I reckin. I doan b'lieve my marster +ever went to church in his life, but he wa'nt mean to his niggers, 'cept +fer doin' things he doan 'low us to. He didn' care fer nothin' 'cept +farmin'. + +"Dere wa'nt no schools fer cullud people den. We didn' know whut a +school was. I never did learn to read. + +"We didn' have no mattresses on our beds like we has now. De chullun +slep' under de big high beds, on sacks. We was put under dem beds 'bout +eight o'clock, an' we'd jes better not say nothin' er make no noise +afte' den. All de cullud folks slep' on croker sacks full of hay er +straw. + +"Did I ever see any niggers punished? Yessum, I sho' has. Whupped an' +chained too. Day was whupped 'til de blood come, 'til dey back split all +to pieces. Den it was washed off wid salt, an' de nigger was put right +back in de fiel'. Dey was whupped fer runnin' away. Sometimes dey run +afte' 'em fer days an nights with dem big old blood houn's. Heap o' +people doan b'lieve dis. But I does, 'cause I seed it myse'f. + +"I'se lived here forty-five years, an' chipped turpentine mos' all my +life since I was free. + +"I'se had three wives. I didn' have no weddin's, but I mar'ied 'em +'cordin to law. I woan stay with one no other way. My fust two wives is +dead. Liza an' me has been mar'ied 'bout 'leven years. I never had but +one chile, an' 'at by my fust wife, an' he's dead. But my other two +wives had been mar'ied befo', an' had chullun. 'Simon here,' pointing to +a big buck of fifty-five sitting on the front porch, 'is Liza's oldest +boy.'" + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[JAMES CORNELIUS +Magnolia, Mississippi] + + +James Cornelius lives in Magnolia in the northwestern part of the town, +in the Negro settlement. He draws a Confederate pension of four dollars +per month. He relates events of his life readily. + +"I does not know de year I was borned but dey said I was 15 years old +when de War broke out an' dey tell me I'se past 90 now. Dey call me +James Cornelius an' all de white folks says I'se a good 'spectable +darkey. + +"I was borned in Franklin, Loos'anna. My mammy was named Chlo an' dey +said my pappy was named Henry. Dey b'longed to Mr. Alex Johnson an' +whil'st I was a baby my mammy, my brudder Henry, an' me was sol' to +Marse Sam Murry Sandell an' we has brung to Magnolia to live an' I niver +remember seein' my pappy ag'in. + +"Marse Murry didn' have many slaves. His place was right whar young +Mister Lampton Reid is buildin' his fine house jes east of de town. My +mammy had to work in da house an' in de fiel' wid all de other niggers +an' I played in de yard wid de little chulluns, bofe white an' black. +Sometimes we played 'tossin' de ball' an' sometimes we played +'rap-jacket' an' sometimes 'ketcher.' An' when it rained we had to go in +de house an' Old Mistess made us behave. + +"I was taught how to work 'round de house, how to sweep an' draw water +frum de well an' how to kin'le fires an' keep de wood box filled wid +wood, but I was crazy to larn how to plow an' when I could I would slip +off an' get a old black man to let me walk by his side an' hold de lines +an' I thought I was big 'nouf to plow. + +"Marse Murry didn' have no overseer. He made de slaves work, an' he was +good an' kind to 'em, but when dey didn' do right he would whip 'em, but +he didn' beat 'em. He niver stripped 'em to whip 'em. Yes ma'm, he +whipped me but I needed it. One day I tol' him I was not goin' to do +whut he tol' me to do--feed de mule--but when he got through wid me I +_wanted_ to feed dat mule. + +"I come to live wid Marse Murry 'fo dar was a town here. Dar was only +fo' houses in dis place when I was a boy. I seed de fust train dat come +to dis here town an' it made so much noise dat I run frum it. Dat smoke +puffed out'n de top an' de bell was ringin' an' all de racket it did +make made me skeered. + +"I heered dem talkin' 'bout de war but I didn' know whut dey meant an' +one day Marse Murry said he had jined de Quitman Guards an' was goin' to +de war an' I had to go wid him. Old Missus cried an' my mammy cried but +I thought it would be fun. He tuk me 'long an' I waited on him. I kept +his boots shinin' so yer could see yer face in 'em. I brung him water +an' fed an' cur'ied his hoss an' put his saddle on de hoss fer him. Old +Missus tol' me to be good to him an' I was. + +"One day I was standin' by de hoss an' a ball kilt[FN: killed] de hoss +an' he fell over dead an' den I cried like it mout[FN: might] be my +brudder. I went way up in Tennessee an' den I was at Port Hudson. I seed +men fall dawn an' die; dey was kilt like pigs. Marse Murry was shot an' +I stayed wid him 'til dey could git him home. Dey lef' me behin' an' +Col. Stockdale an' Mr. Sam Matthews brung me home. + +"Marse Murry died an' Old Missus run de place. She was good an' kind to +us all an' den she mar'ied afte' while to Mr. Gatlin. Dat was afte' de +war was over. + +"Whil'st I was in de war I seed Mr. Jeff Davis. He was ridin' a big hoss +an' he looked mighty fine. I niver seed him 'ceptin he was on de hoss. + +"Dey said old man Abe Lincoln was de nigger's friend, but frum de way +old Marse an' de sojers talk 'bout him I thought he was a mighty mean +man. + +"I doan recollec' when dey tol' us we was freed but I do know Mr. Gatlin +would promise to pay us fer our work an' when de time would come fer to +pay he said he didn' have it an' kep' puttin us off, an' we would work +some more an' git nothin' fer it. Old Missus would cry an' she was good +to us but dey had no money. + +"'Fo de war Marse Murry would wake all de niggers by blowin' a big +'konk' an' den when dinner time would come Old Missus would blow de +'konk' an' call dem to dinner. I got so I could blow dat 'konk' fer Old +Missus but oh! it tuk my wind. + +"Marse Murry would 'low me to drive his team when he would go to market. +I could haul de cotton to Covin'ton an' bring back whut was to eat, an' +all de oxen could pull was put on dat wagon. We allus had good eatin +afte' we had been to market. + +"Every Chris'mus would come I got a apple an' some candy an' mammy would +cook cake an' pies fer Old Missus an' stack dem on de shelf in de big +kitchen an' we had every thing good to eat. Dem people sho' was good an' +kind to all niggers. + +"Afte de war de times was hard an' de white an' black people was +fightin' over who was to git de big office, an' den dere was mighty +leetle to eat. Dar was plen'y whiskey, but I'se kep' 'way frum all dat. +I was raised right. Old Missus taught me ter 'spect white folks an' some +of dem promised me land but I niver got it. All de land I'se ever got I +work mighty hard fer it an' I'se got it yit. + +"One day afte' Mr. Gatlin said he couldn' pay me I run 'way an' went to +New Orleans an' got a job haulin' cotton, an' made my 50 cents an' +dinner every day. I sho' had me plen'y money den. I stayed dere mighty +close on to fo' years an' den I went to Tylertown an' hauled cotton to +de railroad fer Mr. Ben Lampton. Mr. Lampton said I was de bes' driver +of his team he ever had caze I kep' his team fat. + +"Afte I come back to Miss'ssippi I mar'ied a woman named Maggie Ransom. +We stayed together 51 years. I niver hit her but one time. When we was +gittin' mar'ied I stopped de preacher right in de ceremony an' said to +her, 'Maggie, iffen you niver call me a liar I will niver call you one' +an' she said, 'Jim, I won't call you a liar.' I said, 'That's a bargain' +an' den de preacher went on wid de weddin'. Well, one day afte' we had +been mar'ied' bout fo' years, she ast[FN: asked] me how come I was so +late comin' to supper, an' I said I found some work to do fer a white +lady, an' she said, that's a lie,' an' right den I raised my han' an' +let her have it right by de side of de head, an' she niver called me a +liar ag'in. No ma'm, dat is somethin' I won't stand fer. + +"My old lady had seven chulluns dat lived to git grown. Two of 'em lived +here in Magnolia an' de others gone North. Maggie is daid an' I live wid +my boy Walter an' his wife Lena. Dey is mighty good to me. I owns dis +here house an' fo' acres but day live wid me an' I gits a Confed'rate +pension of fo' dollars a month. Dat gives me my coffee an' 'bacco. I'se +proud I'se a old sojer, I seed de men fall when dey was shot but I was +not skeered. We et bread when we could git it an' if we couldn' git it +we done widout. + +"Afte' I lef' Mr. Lampton I'se come here an' went to work fer Mr. Enoch +at Fernwood when his mill was jes a old rattletrap of a mill. I work fer +him 45 years. At fust I hauled timber out'n de woods an' afte' whil'st I +hauled lumber to town to build houses. I sometimes collec' fer de lumber +but I niver lost one nickle, an' dem white folks says I sho' was a +honest nigger. + +"I lived here on dis spot an' rode a wheel to Fernwood every day, an' +fed de teams an' hitched 'em to de wagons an' I was niver late an' niver +stopped fer anything, an' my wheel niver was in de shop. I niver 'lowed +anybody to prank wid it, an' dat wheel was broke up by my gran'chulluns. + +"Afte I quit work at de mill I'se come home an' plow gardens fer de +white folks an' make some more money. I sho' could plow. + +"I jined de New Zion Baptist Church here in Magnolia an' was baptized in +de Tanghipoa River one Sunday evenin'. I was so happy dat I shouted, me +an' my wife bofe. I'se still a member of dat church but I do not preach +an' I'm not no deacon; I'se jes a bench member an' a mighty po' one at +dat. My wife was buried frum dat church. + +"Doan know why I was not called Jim Sandell, but mammy said my pappy was +named Henry Cornelius an' I reckin I was give my pappy's name. + +"When I was a young man de white folks' Baptist Church was called Salem +an' it was on de hill whar de graveyard now is. It burnt down an' den +dey brung it to town, an' as I was goin' to tell yer I went possum +huntin' in dat graveyard one night. I tuk my ax an' dog 'long wid me an' +de dog, he treed a possum right in de graveyard. I cut down dat tree an' +started home, when all to once somethin' run by me an' went down dat big +road lak light'ning an' my dog was afte' it. Den de dog come back an' +lay down at my feet an' rolled on his back an' howled an' howled, an' +right den I knowed it was a sperit an' I throwed down my 'possum an' ax +an' beat de dog home. I tell you dat was a sperit--I'se seed plen'y of +'em. Dat ain't de only sperit I ever seed. I'se seen 'em a heap of +times. Well, dat taught me niver to hunt in a grave yard ag'in. + +"No ma'm, I niver seed a ghost but I tell yer I know dere is sperits. +Let me tell yer, anudder time I was goin' by de graveyard an' I seed a +man's head. He had no feet, but he kep' lookin' afte' me an' every way I +turned he wouldn' take his eye offen me, an' I walked fast an' he got +faster an' den I run an' den he run, an' when I got home I jes fell on +de bed an' hollered an' hollered an' tol' my old lady, an' she said I +was jes' skeered, but I'se sho' seed dat sperit an' I ain't goin' by de +grave yard at night by myse'f ag'in. + +"An' let me tell yer dis. Right in front of dis house--yer see dat +white house?--Well, last Febr'ary a good old cullud lady died in dat +house, an' afte' she was buried de rest of de fambly moved away, an' +every night I kin look over to dat house an' see a light in de window. +Dat light comes an' goes, an' nobody lives dar. Doan I know dat is de +sperit of dat woman comin' back here to tell some of her fambly a +message? Yes ma'm, dat is her sperit an' dat house is hanted an' nobody +will live dar ag'in. + +"No ma'm, I can't read nor write." + + + + +Charlie Davenport, Ex-slave, Adams County +FEC +Edith Wyatt Moore +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +[CHARLIE DAVENPORT +Natchez, Mississippi] + + +"I was named Charlie Davenport an' encordin'[FN: according] to de way I +figgers I ought to be nearly a hund'ed years old. Nobody knows my +birthday, 'cause all my white folks is gone. + +"I was born one night an' de very nex' mornin' my po' little mammy died. +Her name was Lucindy. My pa was William Davenport. + +"When I was a little mite dey turnt me over to de granny nurse on de +plantation. She was de one dat 'tended to de little pickaninnies. She +got a woman to nurse me what had a young baby, so I didn' know no +dif'ence. Any woman what had a baby 'bout my age would wet nurse me, so +I growed up in de quarters an' was as well an' as happy as any other +chil'. + +"When I could _tote taters_[FN: sweet potatoes] dey'd let me pick' em up +in de fiel'. Us always hid a pile away where us could git' em an' roast' +em at night. + +"Old mammy nearly always made a heap o' dewberry an' 'simmon[FN: +persimmon]. wine. + +"Us little tykes would gather black walnuts in de woods an' store 'em +under de cabins to dry. + +"At night when de work was all done an' de can'les was out us'd set +'roun' de fire an' eat cracked nuts an' taters. Us picked out de nuts +wid horse-shoe nails an' baked de taters in ashes. Den Mammy would pour +herse'f an' her old man a cup o' wine. Us never got none o' dat +less'n[FN: unless] us be's sick. Den she'd mess it up wid wild cherry +bark. It was bad den, but us gulped it down, anyhow. + +"Old Granny used to sing a song to us what went lak dis: + + 'Kinky head, whar-fore you skeered? + Old snake crawled off, 'cause he's afeared. + Pappy will smite 'im on de back + Wid a great big club--ker whack! Ker whack!' + +"Aventine, where I was born an' bred, was acrost Secon' Creek. It was a +big plantation wid 'bout a hund'ed head o' folks a-livin' on it. It was +only one o' de marster's places, 'cause he was one o' de riches' an' +highes' quality gent'men in de whole country. I's tellin' you de trufe, +us didn' b'long to no white trash. De marster was de Honorable Mister +Gabriel Shields hisse'f. Ever'body knowed 'bout him. He married a +Surget. + +"Dem Surgets was pretty devilish; for all dey was de riches' fam'ly in +de lan'. Dey was de out-fightin'es', out-cussin'es', fastes' ridin', +hardes' drinkin', out-spendin'es' folks I ever seen. But Lawd! Lawd! Dey +was gent'men even in dey cups. De ladies was beautiful wid big black +eyes an' sof' white han's, but dey was high strung, too. + +"De marster had a town mansion what's pictured in a lot o' books. It was +called 'Montebella.' De big columns still stan' at de end o' Shields +Lane. It burnt 'bout thirty years ago (1937). + +"I's part Injun. I aint got no Nigger nose an' my hair is so long I has +to keep it wropped[FN: wrapped]. I'se often heard my mammy was +redish-lookin' wid long, straight, black hair. Her pa was a full blooded +Choctaw an' mighty nigh as young as she was. I'se been tol' dat nobody +dast[FN: dared] meddle wid her. She didn' do much talkin', but she sho' +was a good worker. My pappy had Injun blood, too, but his hair was +kinky. + +"De Choctaws lived all 'roun' Secon' Creek. Some of 'em had cabins lak +settled folks. I can 'member dey las' chief. He was a tall pow'ful built +man named 'Big Sam.' What he said was de law, 'cause he was de boss o' +de whole tribe. One rainy night he was kilt in a saloon down in 'Natchez +Under de Hill.' De Injuns went wild wid rage an' grief. Dey sung an' +wailed an' done a heap o' low mutterin'. De sheriff kep' a steady watch +on' em, 'cause he was afeared dey would do somethin' rash. After a long +time he kinda let up in his vig'lance. Den one night some o' de Choctaw +mens slipped in town an' stobbed[FN: stabbed] de man dey b'lieved had +kilt Big Sam. I 'members dat well. + +"As I said b'fore, I growed up in de quarters. De houses was clean an' +snug. Us was better fed den dan I is now, an' warmer, too. Us had +blankets an' quilts filled wid home raised wool an' I jus' loved layin' +in de big fat feather bed a-hearin' de rain patter on de roof. + +"All de little darkeys he'ped bring in wood. Den us swept de yards wid +brush brooms. Den sometimes us played together in de street what run de +length o' de quarters. Us th'owed horse-shoes, jumped poles, walked on +stilts, an' played marbles. Sometimes us made bows an' arrows. Us could +shoot 'em, too, jus lak de little Injuns. + +"A heap of times old Granny would brush us hide wid a peach tree limb, +but us need it. Us stole aigs[FN: eggs] an' roasted 'em. She sho' +wouldn' stan' for no stealin' if she knowed it. + +"Us wore lowell-cloth shirts. It was a coarse tow-sackin'. In winter us +had linsey-woolsey pants an' heavy cow-hide shoes. Dey was made in three +sizes--big, little, an' mejum[FN: medium]. Twant no right or lef'. Dey +was sorta club-shaped so us could wear 'em on either foot. + +"I was a teasin', mis-che-vious chil' an' de overseer's little gal got +it in for me. He was a big, hard fisted Dutchman bent on gittin' riches. +He trained his pasty-faced gal to tattle on us Niggers. She got a heap +o' folks whipped. I knowed it, but I was hasty: One day she hit me wid a +stick an' I th'owed it back at her. 'Bout dat time up walked her pa. He +seen what I done, but he didn' see what she done to me. But it wouldn' +a-made no dif'ence, if he had. + +"He snatched me in de air an' toted me to a stump an' laid me 'crost it. +I didn' have but one thickness 'twixt me an' daylight. Gent'men! He laid +it on me wid dat stick. I thought I'd die. All de time his mean little +gal was a-gloatin' in my misery. I yelled an' prayed to de Lawd 'til he +quit. + +"Den he say to me, + +'From now on you works in de fiel'. I aint gwine a-have no vicious boy +lak you 'roun de lady folks.' I was too little for fiel' work, but de +nex' mornin' I went to choppin' cotton. After dat I made a reg'lar fiel' +han'. When I growed up I was a ploughman. I could sho' lay off a pretty +cotton row, too. + +"Us slaves was fed good plain grub. 'Fore us went to de fiel' us had a +big breakfas' o' hot bread, 'lasses, fried salt meat dipped in corn +meal, an' fried taters[FN: sweet potatoes]. Sometimes us had fish an' +rabbit meat. When us was in de fiel', two women 'ud come at dinner-time +wid baskets filled wid hot pone, baked taters, corn roasted in de +shucks, onion, fried squash, an' b'iled pork. Sometimes dey brought +buckets o' cold buttermilk. It sho' was good to a hongry man. At +supper-time us had hoecake an' cold vi'tals. Sometimes dey was sweetmilk +an' collards. + +"Mos' ever' slave had his own little garden patch an' was 'lowed to cook +out of it. + +"Mos' ever plantation kep' a man busy huntin' an' fishin' all de time. +(If dey shot a big buck, us had deer meat roasted on a spit.) + +"On Sundays us always had meat pie or fish or fresh game an' roasted +taters an' coffee. On Chris'mus de marster 'ud give us chicken an' +barrels o' apples an' oranges. 'Course, ever' marster warnt as free +handed as our'n was. (He was sho' 'nough quality.) I'se hear'd dat a +heap o' cullud people never had nothin' good t'eat. + +"I warnt learnt nothin' in no book. Don't think I'd a-took to it, +nowhow. Dey learnt de house servants to read. Us fiel' han's never +knowed nothin' 'cept weather an' dirt an' to weigh cotton. Us was learnt +to figger a little, but dat's all. + +"I reckon I was 'bout fifteen when hones' Abe Lincoln what called +hisse'f a rail-splitter come here to talk wid us. He went all th'ough de +country jus' a-rantin' an' a-preachin' 'bout us bein' his black +brothers. De marster didn' know nothin' 'bout it, 'cause it was sorta +secret-lak. It sho' riled de Niggers up an' lots of 'em run away. I sho' +hear'd him, but I didn' pay 'im no min'. + +"When de war broke out dat old Yankee Dutch overseer o' our'n went back +up North, where he b'longed. Us was pow'ful glad an' hoped he'd git his +neck broke. + +"After dat de Yankees come a-swoopin' down on us. My own pappy took off +wid 'em. He j'ined a comp'ny what fit[FN: fought] at Vicksburg. I was +plenty big 'nough to fight, but I didn' hanker to tote no gun. I stayed +on de plantation an' put in a crop. + +"It was pow'ful on easy times after dat. But what I care 'bout freedom? +Folks what was free was in misery firs' one way an' den de other. + +"I was on de plantation closer to town, den. It was called 'Fish Pond +Plantation.' De white folks come an' tol' us we mus' burn all de cotton +so de enemy couldn' git it. + +"Us piled it high in de fiel's lak great mountains. It made my innards +hurt to see fire 'tached to somethin' dat had cost us Niggers so much +labor an' hones' sweat. If I could a-hid some o' it in de barn I'd +a-done it, but de boss searched ever'where. + +"De little Niggers thought it was fun. Dey laughed an' brung out big +armfuls from de cotton house. One little black gal clapped her han's an' +jumped in a big heap. She sunk down an' down' til she was buried deep. +Den de wind picked up de flame an' spread it lak lightenin'. It spread +so fas' dat 'fore us could bat de eye, she was in a mountain of fiah. +She struggled up all covered wid flames, a-screamin',' Lawdy, he'p me!' +Us snatched her out an' rolled her on de groun', but twant no use. She +died in a few minutes. + +"De marster's sons went to war. De one what us loved bes' never come +back no more. Us mourned him a-plenty, 'cause he was so jolly an' +happy-lak, an' free wid his change. Us all felt cheered when he come +'roun'. + +"Us Niggers didn' know nothin' 'bout what was gwine on in de outside +worl'. All us knowed was dat a war was bein' fit. Pussonally, I b'lieve +in what Marse Jefferson Davis done. He done de only thing a gent'man +could a-done. He tol' Marse Abe Lincoln to 'tend to his own bus'ness an' +he'd 'tend to his'n. But Marse Lincoln was a fightin' man an' he come +down here an' tried to run other folks' plantations. Dat made Marse +Davis so all fired mad dat he spit hard 'twixt his teeth an' say, 'I'll +whip de socks off dem dam Yankees.' + +"Dat's how it all come 'bout. + +"My white folks los' money, cattle, slaves, an' cotton in de war, but +dey was still better off dan mos' folks. + +"Lak all de fool Niggers o' dat time I was right smart bit by de freedom +bug for awhile. It sounded pow'ful nice to be tol': + +'You don't have to chop cotton no more. You can th'ow dat hoe down an' +go fishin' whensoever de notion strikes you. An' you can roam' roun' at +night an' court gals jus' as late as you please. Aint no marster gwine +a-say to you, "Charlie, you's got to be back when de clock strikes +nine."' + +"I was fool 'nough to b'lieve all dat kin' o' stuff. But to tell de +hones' truf, mos' o' us didn' know ourse'fs no better off. Freedom meant +us could leave where us'd been born an' bred, but it meant, too, dat us +had to scratch for us ownse'fs. Dem what lef' de old plantation seemed +so all fired glad to git back dat I made up my min' to stay put. I +stayed right wid my white folks as long as I could. + +"My white folks talked plain to me. Dey say real sad-lak, 'Charlie, +you's been a dependence, but now you can go if you is so desirous. But +if you wants to stay wid us you can share-crop. Dey's a house for you +an' wood to keep you warm an' a mule to work. We aint got much cash, but +dey's de lan' an' you can count on havin' plenty o' vit'als. Do jus' as +you please.' When I looked at my marster an' knowed he needed me, I +pleased to stay. My marster never forced me to do nary thing' bout it. +Didn' nobody make me work after de war, but dem Yankees sho' made my +daddy work. Dey put a pick in his han' stid[FN: instead] o' a gun. Dey +made' im dig a big ditch in front o' Vicksburg. He worked a heap harder +for his Uncle Sam dan he'd ever done for de marster. + +"I hear'd tell 'bout some Nigger sojers a-plunderin' some houses: Out at +Pine Ridge dey kilt a white man named Rogillio. But de head Yankee +sojers in Natchez tried 'em for somethin' or nother an' hung 'em on a +tree out near de Charity Horspital. Dey strung up de ones dat went to +Mr. Sargent's door one night an' shot him down, too. All dat hangin' +seemed to squelch a heap o' lousy goin's-on. + +"Lawd! Lawd! I knows 'bout de Kloo Kluxes. I knows a-plenty. Dey was +sho' 'nough devils a-walkin' de earth a-seekin' what dey could devour. +Dey larruped de hide of'n de uppity Niggers an' driv[FN: drove] de white +trash back where dey b'longed. + +"Us Niggers didn' have no secret meetin's. All us had was church +meetin's in arbors out in de woods. De preachers 'ud exhort us dat us +was de chillun o' Israel in de wilderness an' de Lawd done sont us to +take dis lan' o' milk an' honey. But how us gwine a-take lan' what's +already been took? + +"I sho' aint never hear'd' bout no plantations bein' 'vided up, neither. +I hear'd a lot o' yaller Niggers spoutin' off how dey was gwine a-take +over de white folks' lan' for back wages. Dem bucks jus' took all dey +wages out in talk. 'Cause I aint never seen no lan' 'vided up yet. + +"In dem days nobody but Niggers an' shawl-strop[FN: carpet baggers] +folks voted. Quality folks didn' have nothin' to do wid such truck. If +dey had a-wanted to de Yankees wouldn' a-let 'em. My old marster didn' +vote an' if anybody knowed what was what he did. Sense didn' count in +dem days. It was pow'ful ticklish times an' I let votin' alone. + +"De shawl-strop folks what come in to take over de country tol' us dat +us had a right to go to all de balls, church meetin's, an' 'tainments de +white folks give. But one night a bunch o' uppity Niggers went to a +'tainment in Memorial Hall. Dey dressed deysef's fit to kill an' walked +down de aisle an' took seats in de very front. But jus' 'bout time dey +got good set down, de curtain drapped[FN: dropped] an' de white folks +riz[FN: arose] up widout a-sayin' airy word. Dey marched out de buildin' +wid dey chins up an' lef' dem Niggers a-settin' in a empty hall. + +"Dat's de way it happen ever' time a Nigger tried to git too uppity. Dat +night after de breakin' up o' dat' tainment, de Kloo Kluxes rid[FN: +rode] th'ough de lan'. I hear'd dey grabbed ever' Nigger what walked +down dat aisle, but I aint hear'd yet what dey done wid 'em. + +"Dat same thing happened ever' time a Nigger tried to act lak he was +white. + +"A heap o' Niggers voted for a little while. Dey was a black man what +had office. He was named Lynch. He cut a big figger up in Washington. Us +had a sheriff named Winston. He was a ginger cake Nigger an' pow'ful +mean when he got riled. Sheriff Winston was a slave an', if my mem'ry +aint failed me, so was Lynch. + +"My granny tol' me 'bout a slave uprisin' what took place when I was a +little boy. None o' de marster's Niggers' ud have nothin' to do wid it. +A Nigger tried to git 'em to kill dey white folks an' take dey lan'. But +what us want to kill old Marster an' take de lan' when dey was de bes' +frien's us had? Dey caught de Nigger an' hung 'im to a limb. + +"Plenty folks b'lieved in charms, but I didn' take no stock in such +truck. But I don't lak for de moon to shine on me when I's a-sleepin'. + +"De young Niggers is headed straight for hell. All dey think' bout is +drinkin' hard likker, goin' to dance halls, an' a-ridin' in a old rattle +trap car. It beats all how dey brags an' wastes things. Dey aint one +whit happier dan folks was in my day. I was as proud to git a apple as +dey is to git a pint o' likker. Course, schools he'p some, but looks lak +all mos' o' de young'n's is studyin' 'bout is how to git out o' hones' +labor. + +"I'se seen a heap o' fools what thinks 'cause they is wise in books, +they is wise in all things. + +"Mos' all my white folks is gone, now. Marse Randolph Shields is a +doctor 'way off in China. I wish I could git word to' im, 'cause I know +he'd look after me if he knowed I was on charity. I prays de Lawd to see +'em all when I die." + + + + +Gabe Emanuel, Ex-slave, Claiborne County +FEC +Esther de Sola +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +GABE EMANUEL +Port Gibson, Mississippi + + +Gabe Emanuel is the blackest of Negroes. He is stooped and wobbly from +his eighty-five years and weighs about one hundred and thirty-five +pounds. His speech is somewhat hindered by an unbelievable amount of +tobacco rolled to one side of his mouth. He lives in the Negro quarters +of Port Gibson. Like most ex-slaves he has the courtesy and the +gentleness of a southern gentleman. + +"Lawsy! Dem slav'ry days done been s'long ago I jus' 'member a few +things dat happen den. But I's sho' mighty pleased to relate dat what I +recollec'. + +"I was de house boy on old judge Stamps' plantation. He lived 'bout nine +miles east o' Port Gibson an' he was a mighty well-to-do gent'man in dem +days. He owned 'bout 500 or 600 Niggers. He made plenty o' money out o' +his fiel's. Dem Niggers worked for dey keep. I 'clare, dey sho' did. + +"Us 'ud dike out in spick an' span clean clothes come Sund'ys. Ever'body +wore homespun clo'es den. De mistis an' de res' o' de ladies in de Big +House made mos' of 'em. De cullud wimmins wore some kin' o' dress wid +white aprons an' de mens wore overalls an' homespun pants an' shirts. +Course, all de time us gits han'-me-downs from de folks in de Big House. +Us what was a-servin' in de Big House wore de marster's old dress suits. +Now, dat was somep'n'! Mos' o' de time dey didn' fit--maybe de pants +hung a little loose an' de tails o' de coat hung a little long. Me bein' +de house boy, I used to look mighty sprucy when I put on my frock tail. + +"De mistis used to teach us de Bible on Sund'ys an' us always had Sund'y +school. Us what lived in de Big House an' even some o' de fiel' han's +was taught to read an' write by de white folks. + +"De fiel' han's sho' had a time wid dat man, Duncan. He was de overseer +man out at de plantation. Why, he'd have dem poor Niggers so dey didn' +know if dey was gwine in circles or what. + +"One day I was out in de quarters when he brung back old man Joe from +runnin' away. Old Joe was always a-runnin' away an' dat man Duncan put +his houn' dogs on 'im an' brung 'im back. Dis time I's speakin' 'bout +Marster Duncan put his han' on old Joe's shoulder an' look him in de eye +sorrowful-lak. 'Joe', he say, 'I's sho' pow'ful tired o' huntin' you. +I'spect I's gwina have to git de marster to sell you some'r's else. +Another marster gwina whup you in de groun' if he ketch you runnin' 'way +lak dis. I's sho sad for you if you gits sol' away. Us gwina miss you +'roun' dis plantation.' After dat old Joe stayed close in an' dey warnt +no more trouble out o' him. + +"Dat big white man called Duncan, he seen dat de Niggers b'have +deyse'ves right. Dey called him de 'Boss Man.' He always carried a big +whup an' when dem Niggers got sassy, dey got de whup 'crost dey hides. + +"Lawsy! I's recallin' de time when de big old houn' dog what fin' de +run-away Niggers done die wid fits. Dat man Duncan, he say us gwina hol' +fun'al rites over dat dog. He say us Niggers might better be's pow'ful +sad when us come to dat fun'al. An' dem Niggers was sad over de death o' +dat poor old dog what had chased 'em all over de country. Dey all stan' +'roun' a-weepin' an' a-mournin'. Ever' now an' den dey'd put water on +dey eyes an' play lak dey was a-weepin' bitter, bitter tears. 'Poor old +dog, she done died down dead an' can't kotch us no more. Poor old dog. +Amen! De Lawd have mercy!' + +"De Judge was a great han' for 'tainment[FN: entertainment]. He always +had a house full o' folks an' he sho' give 'em de bes' o' food an' +likker. Dey was a big room he kep' all polished up lak glass. Ever' now +an' den he'd th'ow a big party an' 'vite mos' ever'body in Mississippi +to come. Dey was fo' Niggers in de quarters what could sing to beat de +ban', an' de Judge would git 'em to sing for his party. + +"I 'member how 'cited I'd git when one o' dem shindigs 'ud come off. I +sho' would strut den. De mistis 'ud dress me up an' I'd carry de likker +an' drinks' roun' 'mongst de peoples. 'Would you prefer dis here mint +julip, Marster? Or maybe you'd relish dis here special wine o' de +Judge's. 'Dem white folks sho' could lap up dem drinks, too. De Judge +had de bes' o' ever'thing. + +"Dey was always a heap o' fresh meat in de meat house. De pantry fairly +bu'sted wid all kin' o' preserves an' sweetnin's. Lawdy! I mean to tell +you dem was de _good_ days. + +"I 'member I used to hate ever' Wednesday. Dat was de day I had to +polish de silver. Lawsy! It took me mos' all day. When I'd think I was +'bout th'ough de mistis was sho' to fin' some o' 'dat silver dat had to +be did over. + +"Den de war broke out. De marster went 'way wid de sojers an' gradual' +de hardness come to de plantation. + +"Us never knowed when dem Yankee sojers would come spen' a few weeks at +de Big House. Dey'd eat up all de marster's vit'als an' drink up all his +good likker. + +"I 'member one time de Yankees camped right in de front yard. Dey took +all de meat out'n de curin' house. Well sir! I done 'cide by myse'f dat +no Yankee gwina eat all us meat. So dat night I slips in dey camp; I +stole back dat meat from dem thievin' sojers an' hid it, good. Ho! Ho! +Ho! But dey never did fin' dat meat. + +"One time us sot fire to a bridge de Yankees had to cross to git to de +plantation. Dey had to camp on de other side, 'cause dey was too lazy to +put out de fire. Dat's jus' lak I figgered it. + +"When de war was over my mammy an' pappy an' us five chillun travelled +here to Port Gibson to live. My mammy hired out for washin'. I don't +know zackly what my pappy done. + +"Lincoln was de man dat sot us free. I don't recollec' much 'bout 'im +'ceptin' what I hear'd in de Big House 'bout Lincoln doin' dis an' +Lincoln doin' dat. + +"Lawdy! I sho' was happy when I was a slave. + +"De Niggers today is de same as dey always was, 'ceptin' dey's gittin' +more money to spen'. Dey aint got nobody to make' em' 'have deyse'ves +an' keep 'em out o' trouble, now. + +"I lives here in Port Gibson an' does mos' ever' kin' o' work. I tries +to live right by ever'body, but I 'spect I won't be here much longer. + +"I'se been married three times. + +"When de time comes to go I hopes to be ready. De Lawd God Almighty +takes good care o' his chillun if dey be's good an' holy." + + + + +Dora Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +DORA FRANKS +Aberdeen, Mississippi + + +Dora Franks, ex-slave, lives at Aberdeen, Monroe County. She is about +five feet tall and weighs 100 pounds. Her hair is inclined to be curly +rather than kinky. She is very active and does most of her own work. + +"I was born in Choctaw County, but I never knowed zackly how old I was, +'cause none o' my folks could read an' write. I reckon I be's 'bout a +hund'ed, 'cause I was a big girl long time fo' Surrender. I was old +'nough to marry two years after dat. + +"My mammy come from Virginny. Her name was Harriet Brewer. My daddy was +my young Marster. His name was Marster George Brewer an' my mammy always +tol' me dat I was his'n. I knew dat dere was some dif'ence 'tween me an' +de res' o' her chillun, 'cause dey was all coal black, an' I was even +lighter dan I is now. Lawd, it's bean to my sorrow many a time, 'cause +de chillun used to chase me 'round an' holler at me, 'Old yallow +Nigger.' Dey didn' treat me good, neither. + +"I stayed in de house mos' o' de time wid Miss Emmaline. Miss +Emmaline's hair was _dat_ white, den. I loved her' cause she was so good +to me. She taught me how to weave an' spin. 'Fore I was bigger'n a +minute I could do things dat lots o' de old han's couldn' come nigh +doin'. She an' Marse Bill had 'bout eight chillun, but mos' of 'em was +grown when I come 'long. Dey was all mighty good to me an' wouldn' 'low +nobody to hurt me. + +"I 'members one time when dey all went off an' lef' me wid a old black +woman call Aunt Ca'line what done de cookin' 'round de place some o' de +time. When dey lef' de house I went in de kitchen an' asked her for a +piece o' white bread lak de white folks eat. She haul off an' slap me +down an' call me all kin' o' names dat I didn' know what dey meant. My +nose bled an' ruint de nice clean dress I had on. When de Mistis come +back Marse George was wid 'er. She asked me what on earth happen to me +an' I tol' 'er. Dey call Ca'line in de room an' asked her if what I say +was de truf. She tell 'em it was, an' dey sent 'er away. I hear tell dat +dey whup her so hard dat she couldn' walk no mo'. + +"Us never had no big fun'als or weddin's on de place. Didn' have no +marryin' o' any kin'. Folks in dem days jus' sorter hitched up together +an' call deyse'ves man an' wife. All de cullud folks was buried on what +dey called Platnum Hill. Dey didn' have no markers nor nothin' at de +graves. Dey was jus' sunk in places. My brother Frank showed me once +where my mammy was buried. Us didn' have no preachin', or singin', or +nothin', neither. Us didn' even git to have meetin's on Sund'y less us +slip off an' go to some other plantation. Course, I got to go wid de +white folks sometime an' set in de back, or on de steps. Dat was whan I +was little. + +"Lots o' Niggers would slip off from one plantation to de other to see +some other Niggers. Dey would always manage to git back' fore daybreak. +De wors' thing I ever heard 'bout dat was once when my Uncle Alf run off +to 'jump de broom.' Dat was what dey called goin' to see a woman. He +didn' come back by daylight, so dey put de Nigger hounds after him. Dey +smelled his trail down in de swamp an' foun' where he was hidin'. + +"Now, he was one of da biggest Niggers on de place an' a powerful fas' +worker. But dey took an' give him 100 lashes wid de cat o' ninety-nine +tails. His back was somethin' awful, but dey put him in de fiel' to work +while de blood was still a-runnin'. He work right hard 'til dey lef'. +Den, when he got up to de end o' de row nex' to de swamp, he lit out +ag'in. + +"Dey never foun' 'im dat time. Dey say he foun' a cave an' fix him up a +room whar he could live. At nights he would come out on de place an' +steal enough t'eat an' cook it in his little dugout. When de war was +over an' de slaves was freed, he come out. When I saw him, he look lak a +hairy ape, 'thout no clothes on an' hair growin' all over his body. + +"Dem was pretty good days back in slav'ry times. My Marstar had a whole +passal o' Niggers on his place. When any of 'em would git sick dey would +go to de woods an' git herbs an roots an' make tea for 'em to drink. +Hogweed an' May apples was de bes' things I knowed of. Sometimes old +Mistis doctored 'em herse'f. One time a bunch o' us chillun was playin' +in de woods an foun' some o' dem May apples. Us et a lot of 'em an' got +awful sick. Dey dosed us up on grease an' Samson snake root to clean us +out. An' it sho' done a good job. I'se been a-usin' dat snake root ever +since. + +"De firs' thing dat I 'member hearin' 'bout de war was one day when +Marse George come in de house an' tell Miss Emmaline dat dey's gwine +have a bloody war. He say he feared all de slaves 'ud be took away. She +say if dat was true she feel lak jumpin' in de well. I hate to hear her +say dat, but from dat minute I started prayin' for freedom. All de res' +o' de women done de same. + +"De war started pretty soon after dat an' all de men folks went off an' +lef' de plantation for de women an' de Niggers to run. Us seen de sojers +pass by mos' ever' day. Once de Yankees come an' stole a lot o' de +horses an' somp'in' t'eat. Dey even took de trunk full o' 'Federate +money dat was hid in de swamp. How dey foun' dat us never knowed. + +"Marse George come home' bout two years after de war started an' married +Miss Martha Ann. Dey had always been sweethearts. Dey was promised 'fore +he lef'. + +"Marse Lincoln an' Marse Jeff Davis is two I 'members 'bout. But, +Lawzee! Dat was a long time back. Us liked Marse Jeff Davis de bes' on +de place. Us even made up a song 'bout him, but, I 'clare 'fore +goodness, I can't even 'member de firs' line o' dat song. You see, when +I got 'ligion, I asked de Lawd to take all de other songs out o' my +head an' make room for his word. + +"Since den it's de hardes' thing in de worl' for me to 'member de songs +us used to dance by. I do' member a few lak 'Shoo, Fly', 'Old Dan +Tucker', an' 'Run, Nigger, Run, de Pateroller Catch You.' I don' 'member +much o' de words. I does 'member a little o' 'Old Dan Tucker.' It went +dis way: + + 'Old Don Tucker was a mighty mean man, + He beat his wife wid a fryin' pan. + She hollered an' she cried, "I's gwineter go, + Dey's plenty o' men, won't beat me so." + + 'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, + You come too late to git yo' supper. + + 'Old Dan Tucker, he got drunk, + Fell in de fire, kicked up a chunk, + Red hot coal got down his shoe + Oh, Great Lawd, how de ashes flew. + + 'Git out o' de way, Old Dan Tucker, + You come too late to git yo' supper.' + +"When de war was over, my brother Frank slipped in de house where I was +still a-stayin'. He tol' me us was free an' for me to come out wid de +res'. 'Fore sundown dere warnt one Nigger lef' on de place. I hear tell +later dat de Mistis an' de gals had to git out an' work in de fiel's to +he'p gather in de crop. + +"Frank foun' us a place to work an' put us all in de fiel'. I never had +worked in de fiel' before. I'd faint away mos' ever'day 'bout eleven +o'clock. It was de heat. Some of 'em would have to tote me to de house. +I'd soon come to. Den I had to go back to de fiel'. Us was on Marse +Davis Cox's place den. + +"Two years later I met Pet Franks an' us married. De Cox's was good +folks an' give us a big weddin'. All de white folks an' de Niggers for +miles a-round come to see us git married. De Niggers had a big supper +an' had a peck t'eat. Us had eight chillun, but aint but three of 'em +livin'. Me an' Pet aint been a-livin' together for de las' twenty-three +years. Us jus' couldn' git 'long together, so us quit. He lives out at +Acker's Fishing Lodge now an' does de cookin' for 'em. + +"I never will forgit de Klu Klux Klan. Never will [TR: "I" deleted] +forgit de way dat horn soun' at night when dey was a-goin' after some +mean Nigger. Us'd all run an' hide. Us was livin' on de Troup place den, +near old Hamilton, in one o' de brick houses back o' de house whar dey +used to keep de slaves. Marse Alec Troup was one o' de Klu Klux's an' so +was Marse Thad Willis dat lived close by. Dey'd make plans together +sometime an' I'd hear 'em. One time dey caught me lis'nin', but dey +didn' do nothin' to me, 'cause dey knowed I warnt gwine tell. Us was all +good Niggers on his place. + +"Lawd, Miss, dese here young folks today is gwine straight to de Devil. +All dey do all day an' all night is run 'round an' drink corn likker +an' ride in automobiles. I'se got a grand-daughter here, an' she's dat +wil'. I worries a right smart 'bout her, but it don't do no good, 'cause +her mammy let her do jus' lak she please anyhow. + +"Den I tells you, de one thing I worries 'bout mos'. Dat is de white +folks what lives here 'mongst de Niggers. You know what kinda folks dey +is, an' it sho' is bad influence on 'em. You knows Niggers aint s'posed +to always know de right from de wrong. Dey aint got Marsters to teach +'em now. For de white folks to come down here an' do lak dey do, I tells +you, it aint right. De quality white folks ought-a do somethin' bout it. + +"I's had a right hard life, but I puts my faith in de Lawd an' I know +ever'thing gwine come out all right. I's lived a long life an' will soon +be a hund'ed, I guess. I's glad dat slav'ry is over, 'cause de Bible +don't say nothin' 'bout it bein right. I's a good Christian. I gits +sort-a res'less mos' o' de time an' has to keep busy to keep from +thinkin' too much." + + + + +Pet Franks, Ex-Slave, Monroe County +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +PET FRANKS +Aberdeen, Mississippi + + +Uncle Pet, 92 year old ex-slave, is the favorite of Ackers' Fishing +Lodge which is situated 14 miles north of Aberdeen, Monroe County. He is +low and stockily built. His ancestry is pure African. Scarcely topping +five feet one inch, he weighs about 150 pounds. Though he walks with the +slightest limp, he is still very active and thinks nothing of cooking +for the large groups who frequent the lodge. He has his own little +garden and chickens which he tends with great care. + +"I knows all 'bout slav'ry an' de war. I was right dere on de spot when +it all happened. I wish to goodness I was back dere now, not in de war, +but in de slav'ry times. Niggers where I lived didn' have nothin' to +worry 'bout in dem days. Dey aint got no sense now-a-days. All dey +b'lieves in now is drinkin' an' carousin'. Dey aint got no use for +nothin' but a little corn likker an' a fight. I dont b'lieve in no such +gwine-on, no sir-ree. Dat's de reason I stays out here by myse'f all de +time. I don't want to have nothin' to do wid 'em. I goes to town 'bout +once a mont' to git s'pplies, but I don' never fool 'roun' wid dem +Niggers den. I gits 'long wid my white folks, too. All da mens an' +wimmens what comes out to de club is pow'ful good to me. + +"I was born up near Bartley's Ferry right on de river. De way I +cal'clates my age makes me 'bout 92 years old. My firs' Marster was name +Mr. Harry Allen. He died when I was a boy an' I don't 'member much 'bout +him. De Mistis, dat was his wife, married ag'in an' dat husband's name +was Marse Jimmy Tatum. Dey was sho' good white folks. My mammy an' pappy +was name Martha an' Martin Franks. Marse Harry brung 'em down from +Virginny, I thinks. Or else he bought 'em from Marse Tom Franks in West +Point. Anyways dey come from Virginny an' I don't know which one of 'em +brought 'em down here. Dey did b'long to Marse Tom. I knows dat. + +"Bartley's used to be some place. My folks had a big hotel down on de +river bank. Dey was a heap of stores right on de bank, too. De river +done wash' em all 'way now. Dey aint nothin' lef'. But Lawdy! When I was +a kid de boats used to come a-sailin' up de river 'bout once a week an' +I used to know de names o' all de big ones. Dey would stop an' pick up a +load o' cotton to carry to Mobile. When dey come back dey would be +loaded wid all kin' o' gran' things. + +"Us chillun had a big time playin' roun' de dock. Us played 'Hide de +Switch' an' 'Goose and Gander' in de day time. Den at nighttime when de +moon was shinin' big an' yaller, us'd play 'Ole Molly Bright.' Dat was +what us call de moon. Us'd make up stories 'bout her. Dat was de bes' +time o' all. Sometimes de old folks would join in an' tell tales too. +Been so long I forgits de tales, but I know dey was good'ns. + +"When I got big 'nough to work I he'ped 'roun' de lot mostly. Fac' is +I'se worked right 'roun' white folks mos' all my days. I did work in de +fiel' some, but us had a good overseer. His name was Marse Frank Beeks +an' he was good as any white man dat ever lived. I don't never 'member +him whippin' one o' de slaves, leastways not real whippin's. I do +'member hearin' 'bout slaves on other places gittin' whipped sometimes. +I guess Niggers lak dat wished dey was free, but I didn' want to leave +my white folks, ever. + +"Us had preachin' an' singin'. Dey was some mighty good meetin's on de +place. Old Daddy Young was 'bout de bes' preacher us ever had. Dey was +plenty o' Niggers dere, 'cause it was a powerful big place. Old Daddy +could sho' make 'em shout an' roll. Us have to hol' some of 'em dey'd +git so happy. I knowed I had 'ligion when I got baptized. Dey took me +out in de river an' it took two of 'em to put me under. When I come up I +tol' 'em, 'turn me loose, I b'lieve I can walk right on top o' de +water.' Dey don' have no 'ligion lak dat now-a-days. + +"All de Niggers on de Tatum place had dey own patches where dey could +plant what ever day wanted to. Dey'd work 'em on Satu'd'ys. When dey +sol' anything from dey patch Mistis 'ud let 'em keep de money. When de +boats went down to Mobile us could sen' down for anything us want to +buy. One time I had $10.00 saved up an' I bought lots o' pretties wid +it. Us always had plenty t'eat, too. All de greens, eggs, wheat, corn, +meat, an' chitlins dat anybody'd want. When hog killin' time come us +always have some meat lef' over from de year befo'. Us made soap out of +dat. + +"When da war broke out I went right wid de Marster up to Corinth. I +stayed up dere in de camp for de longes' time a-waitin' on de sojers an' +nussing de sick ones. I never seen much o' de real fightin'. But I heard +de cannons roar an' I waited on de sojers what got wounded. + +"After dey moved camp de Marster sont me back home to he'p look after de +Mistis an' chillun. De 'Federates had some cattle hid 'way in us pasture +an' I looked after 'em. One night when I was comin' home I met 'bout a +hund'ed Yankees comin' over a hill. Dey saw de cattle an' took 'bout +ha'f of 'em. I skidooed. Dey aint kotched me yet. + +"After de war de Yankees called deyse'ves 'Publicans. Dey come down here +an' wanted all de Niggers to vote de 'Publican ticket. Den, lemme tell +you, I went to work for my white folks. Dey was a-holdin' big meetin's +an' speakin's, but I was workin', too. On 'lection day I brung in 1500 +Niggers to vote de Democrat ticket. De folks what saw us comin' over de +hill say us look like a big black cloud. I reckon us sounded lak one wid +all dat hollerin' an' shoutin'. + +"All my folks was dead soon, an' I went 'bout lak I was in a trance for +awhile. I went firs' one place an' den 'nother. + +"When I was on de Cox place I met Dora an' us married. Dat was a big +weddin' an' a big feas'. Den us moved over to de Troup place an' stayed +dere for a long spell. While us was dere I 'member de Klu Kluxers an' +all de carryin' on. Dey would dress up in white sheets an' come 'roun' +an' scare all de Niggers. Dey'd whip de bad ones. Some of 'em would git +cow horns an' put on dey heads. One time dey chased a Nigger plumb under +de house jus' a-playin' wid 'im. Dey was a-bellowin' jus' lak bulls. + +"I can't read an' write. I aint got much use for a Nigger wid a little +education. I went to school twict. De firs' teacher I had, dey come an' +carried to de pen for signin' his old Marster's name. De nex' teacher, +dey put in jail for stealin'. So I jus' 'cided twas jus' better for me +not to know how to read'n write, less'n I might git in some kinda +trouble, too. + +"Dora an' me is got three out o' eight chillun livin'. Dora an' me don' +live together no more. She likes to stay in town an' I aint got no +patience wid city slickers an' dey ways. She stays wid us gal, Nanny. I +stays out here. I goes in to see her 'bout once a mont'. + +"I don't git lonesome. Lawdee, no'm! I's got my two dogs. Den de white +folks is always a-comin' out here. Dey is good to me. Dey is one right +pert Nigger woman what lives down de road a-piece. Her name is Katie, +an' I goes down dere when I gits tired o' eatin' my own cookin'. She +sets a plumb good table, too." + + + + +NETTIE HENRY +Meridian, Mississippi + + +Nettie Henry, ex-slave, 19th Street, Meridian, Lauderdale County, is 82 +years old. She is five feet tall and weighs one hundred pounds. + +"De Chil's place was at Livingston, Alabama, on Alamucha Creek. Dat's +where I was born, but I jus' did git borned good when Miss Lizzie--she +was Marse Chil's girl--married Marse John C. Higgins an' moved to +Mer-ree-dian. Me an' my mammy an' my two sisters, Liza an' Tempe, was +give to Miss Lizzie. + +"I aint no country Nigger; I was raised in town. My mammy cooked an' +washed an' ironed an' done ever'thing for Miss Lizzie. She live right +where Miss Annie--she was Miss Lizzie's daughter--live now. But den de +house face Eighth Street 'stead o' Seventh Street, lak it do now. Day +warnt any other houses in dat block. 'Fore de Surrender, dey turnt de +house to face Seventh Street 'cause de town was growin' an' a heap o' +folks was buildin' houses. I tell you somp'in' 'bout Seventh Street in a +minute. Couldn' nobody dat lived in Mer-ree-dian right after de +Surrender ever forgit Seventh Street an' where it head to. + +"My pappy didn' go wid us to Mer-ree-dian. He b'longed to one set o' +white people, you see, an' my mammy b'longed to another. He'd come to +see us till de War started, den his folks jus' kinda went to Texas. I +don' know why zackly 'cep' maybe it warnt so healthy for 'em 'roun' +Livingston. Dey didn' go to de War or nothin'. I 'spec' nice white folks +talked 'bout 'em an' wouldn' have nothin' to do wid 'em. So dey took an' +went to Texas an' took my pappy wid 'em. But after de War he come back +to us, walked mos' all de way frum Texas. He rented some lan' frum Mr. +Ragsdale. My pappy built us a shack on dat lan'. It's tore down now, but +it was built good. Us all he'ped. I pulled a cross-cut saw an' toted de +boards up on de roof on a ladder. De chimley was built out o' mud an' +rocks. Den us moved in an' started growin' us somp'in t'eat. Us didn' +have no horse an' plow; Yankees done carried off all de horses an' mules +an' burnt up ever'dthing lak plows. Us dug up de groun' wide a grubbin' +hoe an' raised pun-kins an' plenty o' chickens an' ever'thing. + +"Us lived nice. My people was smart. My white people was good white +people. Dey warnt brutish; never whupped us or nothin' lak dat. I don' +know nothin' 'bout no meanness. + +"Mr. Higgins he died pretty soon an' Miss Lizzie went to teachin' +school. Her chillun--Miss Annie an' dem--would try to teach us. Den us +carried Blue Back Spellers to Sund'y school an' a old Baptist cullud +preacher would teach us out o' it. He say, 'de same words is in dis book +what's in de Bible. You chillun learn 'em de way dey is fixed for you to +learn 'em in dis here Blue Back Speller, den de firs' thing you know you +can read de Bible.' Use went to de white folk's church endurin' o' de +War an' right after. Any o' de white folks can tell you 'bout Mr. +Preacher Hamlin. He was a preacher an' a school teacher mixed. He had de +firs' boardin' school for young white ladies. It's standin' right dare +on Eighth [HW: No 7] Street right now. I 'members de firs' one to +gragurate[FN: graduate] frum it. Well, Mr. Hamlin 'nitiated my pappy +right dare in de white folks's church, de Firs' Baptis' Church; it burnt +up long time ago. My pappy was Isam Allbrook. He was de firs' cullud +deacon ordained in Mer-ree-dian. + +"I was ten years old at de Surrender, but I took notice. Dem was scarey +times an' when you is scared you takes trigger-notice. It was nex' to de +las' year o' de War 'fore Sherman got to Mer-ree-dian--not Sherman +hisse'f but his sojers. Dey burnt up dat big house on Eighth Street hill +an' built camps for de sojers in de flower garden. De cap'ns went an' +live at Marse Greer's house. Marse Greer had done sunk all de silver in +de duck pond an' hid out de horses an' cows in de big cane-brake what +used to be on dis side o' Sowashee Creek. But, Lor!, it didn' do no +good. Sherman done caught on by dat time 'bout how to fin' things. Dey +got ever'thing an' burned Marse Greer's barn. Day lef' de house an' +didn' bother de fam'ly 'cause dey called deyse'fs company. De good Lord +knows Marse Greer didn' 'vite 'em! But de Cap'ns bein' dere kep' de +rip-rap[FN: riff-raff] sojers frum tearin' up ever'thing. + +"When word come dat dey was comin', it soun' lak a moanin' win' in de +quarter. Ever'body was a-sayin', 'De Yankees is comin'! De Yankees is +comin'!' Us chullun was scared, but it was lak Sund'y, too,--nobody +doin' nothin'. Us march' 'roun' de room an' sorter sing-lak, 'De Yankees +is comin'! De Yankees is comin'!' Dey wouldn' let us out in de big road. +Well, dey come. Dey burn up seventy houses an' all de stores. Dey tore +up de railroad tracks an' toted off ever'thing dey couldn' eat. I don' +un'erstan' nothin' 'bout how come dey act lak dat. Us aint done nothin' +to 'em. + +"Well things kep' gittin' worse an' worse. After de Surrender Niggers +got mighty biggity. Mos' of 'em was glad jus' to feel free. Dey didn' +have no better sense. Dey forgot wouldn' be nobody to take care of 'em. +Things warnt healthy an' my mammy an' me kep' close to de white folks. +'Course, Tempe she was grown an' could do what she please. She sho' done +somp'in' when she married Cal. Dat was de meanes' Nigger! He nail up a +board over de gate pos' what say, 'No visitors allowed'. Sho' 'nough +didn' no visitors want to go to his house! + +"I don' know how come things got so unnatchel after de Surrender. +Niggers got to bein all kin' o' things what de Lawd didn' inten' 'em +for, lak bein' policemen an' all lak dat. It was scan'lous! 'Course, it +was de Yankees what done it. Dey promise to give ever'body forty acres +o' lan' an' a mule. A lot of 'em didn' have no better sense dan to +believe 'em. Dey'd go 'head an' do what de Yankees 'ud tell 'em. Well, +dey didn' give' em nothin', not even a rooster. Didn' give 'em _nothin'_ +but trouble. + +"I don' know how come Mr. Theodore Sturges' brother was a Yankee. But +after de Surrender he come to Mer-ree-dian an' got to be Mayor. Didn' +none o' de white folks lak dat. Mr. Theodore didn' lak it hisse'f, but +nothin' he could do 'bout it. Things got so bad de Kloo-Kluxes[FN: Klu +Klux] started ridin' at night an' sposin'[FN: disposing] o' bad Niggers. +Den one Satu'd'y night Mr. Theodore's big sto' got set fiah to an' de +Mayor he tried to blame it on de Kloo-Kluxes. 'Course ever'body knowed +de Yankees done it. You see de Yankees was a-tryin' to git de Gov'nor to +run de Kloo-Kluxes out. Dat was one awful fiah. Near 'bout de whole town +burnt up down town an' ever' nice white man was down dare a-fightin' de +fiah. + +"Plenty o' Niggers was out, too, doin' devlishment. Three of 'em got +'rested an' dey had de trial Monday. In de meantime, all de +Yankee-lovin' Niggers had a big meetin' an' de loudes' mouf dere was dat +big buck Nigger Bill. He all time call hisse'f Dennis when he don' call +hisse'f Clopton. Here dey goes, all het up frum makin' speeches an' +a-drinkin', an' packs de courtroom full. When Mr. Patton got up on de +stan' an' say, he sho' done hear Bill Dennis say somp'in', Bill he +holler out, 'Dat's a lie!' Only he say a bad word dat I wouldn' say. Den +Mr. Patton raise up his walkin' stick an' start toward Bill. 'Bout den +Bill jerk out his pistol an' shoot at Mr. Patton. He miss Mr. Patton an' +hit Judge Bramlette. Yes'm, kilt him corpse-dead right dere on his high +pulpit chair! + +"'Bout dat time ever'thing bus' loose. Near 'bout all de white gent'mun +in de court room take a shot at Bill. He falls, but he aint dead yet. +Dey put him in de sheriff's office an' lef two white men wid him. But +things was a-happenin' so fas' by dat time dey couldn' stan' it. Dey +th'owed Bill out of dat two-story window an' run down to git in de +fight. De white folks was plumb wo' out by dat time wid all de +devilishment o' de Yankees an' de fool Niggers. Even a mean Nigger got +sense 'nough to know when he done gone too far. Dey all git away as fas' +as dey could an' scatter over town, den after dark dey come a-creepin' +back to de quarters. Dat was sho' de wronges' thing to do. Dat night, +all de sho' 'nough white men came a-marchin' out Seventh Street on dey +way to de quarters. + +"I had did up Miss Lizzie's parlor curtains dat very day an' de boy was +puttin' up de mouldin' frame 'roun' 'em when us hear dat trompin' soun'. +It didn' soun' lak no ever'day marchin'. It soun' lak Judgement Day. De +boy fell off de ladder an' run an' hid b'hind de flour barrel in de +pantry. Miss Lizzie was peepin' out 'twixt dem white lace curtains an' I +was right b'hin' 'er. I 'spec' Seventh Street was lined wid wimmin-folks +doin' jus' what us doin', 'cause dey husban's, sons, an' sweethearts was +out dere in dat march-line. + +"Well, dat night ended all de troubles. De line done stop at Mr. +Theodore Sturges' house' fore it git out far as us. 'Course, ever'body +know Mr. Theodore an' Miss Allie was sho' 'nough folks, but dey was +bound to have dat Yankee brother o' his'n. + +"De yard was plumb full o' white men ready to burn de house right down +on Miss Allie's head lessen dey'd give up dat Yankee Mayor. Mr. Theodore +come to de door an' say, 'Gent'mun, he aint here.' Aint nobody believe +dat. Dey was a-fixin' to bus' on in anyhow, when Miss Allie come out. +She come right down dem steps 'mongst all dem mad folks an' say, calm +an' lady-lak, 'Gent'mun, my brother-in-law is here, cert'ny. Where would +he go for safety 'cepn to his brother's house? But I give you my word +dat he gwine stay right here 'till you put him on de firs' train headin' +nawth. Den no mo' blood will be spilled.' An' dat's what dey done. + +"Yes'm it was all mighty bad, but plenty good things done happen in +Mer-ree-dian, too. I'se seen dis town grow frum nothin'. When us come +here 'fore de War, dey was hitchin' dey horses to little oak bushes +right in de middle o' town where de bigges' stores is now. I was a grown +girl by den an' could make horsemint tea for chills an' mullen leaves +for fever good as anybody; an' horehound tea for colds, bitter as gall. +I jus' now caught up how to cook an' sew. + +"I married when I was nineteen years old. I had nine chillun an' five of +'em's still livin'. Dey looks after me right nice, too. My son in +Chicago gimme dis house an' I lives here by myse'f. I keeps it nice an' +clean jus' lak I learnt how to do frum de white folks where I used to +work. I aint never work for no common folks. I tries to live lak a +Christian an' do jus' lak Old Mistis say. Den when I die I can go to +Heaven." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies +Smith Hodges, Ex-Slave, Pike County +FEC +Mrs. W.F. Holmes + +[FANNY SMITH HODGES +Berglundtown, Mississippi] + + +Fanny Smith Hodges lives in Berglundtown, in the northern part of town, +in the only Negro settlement within the corporate limits of McComb. + +"My name's Fanny Hodges. I was Fanny Smith befo' I was mar'ied. My mammy +was Jane Weathersby, an' she b'long ter old man Weathersby in Amite +County. He was de meanes' man what ever lived. My pappy was sol' befo' I +was born. I doan know nothin' 'bout him. I had one sister--her name was +Clara--and one brudder--his name was Jack. Dey said my pappy's name was +George. I doan know. + +"Mammy said when I was jes big 'nough to nuss an' wash leetle chulluns, +I was sol' to Marse Hiram Cassedy an' dat man give me ter his darter, +Miss Mary, to be her maid. De Cassedys sho' was good people. I was big +'nough to draw water, an' put it in a tub an' wash Miss Mary, Miss +Annie, an' Miss July. I had to keep 'em clean. I had to comb dey hair +an' dey would holler an' say I pulled. I was tol' not to let anything +hurt dem chulluns. + +"I slep' in de Quarters wid de other niggers. Befo' sunup I had to git +to de Big House ter dress dem chulluns. I doan' member whut kind of bed +I had, but reckin' it was good. I et in de kitchen. Dey fed fine. I et +whut de white folks lef', an' sometimes dey had 'possum an' taters. Dey +was good. + +"Marse Cassedy was a big Judge. He went to all de cou'ts, an' rode in a +fine carri'ge with two big horses hitched ter it, an' a driver. He wore +fine clo'es an' ever'body said he was a mighty big man. He had lots an' +lots of money. I doan know how many acres in his plantation, but he had +more'n 50 slaves. + +"When Marse Cassedy was gone, his oberseer would be hard on de slaves, +but Marse Cassedy would tell him not to be too hard. He never 'lowed his +driver to draw de blood when dey whupped. He fed his slaves. Dey all had +gardens and he tuk care of us. He had money in every one of us. De +oberseers was white men workin' fer wages. + +"I was never whupped afte' I went to Marse Cassedy. Slaves was whupped +when dey wouldn't work right. Sometimes dey was lazy. De oberseer blowed +a horn every mornin' and de slaves knowed to git up, an' when dat horn +blowed agin, dey knowed dey must go to de fiel'. Dey blowed de horn at +dinner an' night. Afte' supper, we set 'bout an' sing an go places. +Sometimes de men would steal off an' go ter other plantations, an' when +kotched dey got a whuppin'. If de pataroller got em, dey sho' kotched +it. Dey was whupped an' brung back. + +"De white folks had big dances in de Big House and de niggers played de +fiddle. Dey was fine times. Dey had good things ter eat, an' I allus got +some of whut was lef'. Christmas time de slaves had dances. I could sho' +shuffle my feet. Shucks, folks doan dance like dat any more. + +"When slaves was sick, dey went to de woods and got roots an' herbs ter +doctor 'em wid. If dey had runnin' off of de bowels, dey got red oak +barks an' boiled it an' made 'em drink it. It's de best thing right now +to cure runnin' off of de bowels. If young gals had pains in dey +stomachs dey made tea out'n gum bark and dat would bring 'em 'round. +When babies was born, dey had good midwives to wait on 'em. Dat was good +money. + +"When Miss July got mar'ied dey had two cooks in de kitchen makin' +pound cake fer more'n a week, an' pies, an' chicken pie, an' dey killed +a hog. Dey had ever'body in de country savin' butter an' eggs fer a long +time. I didn' see de weddin' but de yard was full and we had ever'thing +to eat. + +"My folks was rich. Marse Cassedy went to de War an' he was a big man +dere. He was gone a long time. Dey kep' tellin' us de Yankees was comin' +and Miss Fanny had her silver put in a bag and hid. Dey had de money put +in a wash pot and buried, an' dey ain't found dat money yet. Oh, dey had +_more_ money! Didn' I tell you dey was rich? No mam, dey wasn't po' when +war was over. Dey had ever'thing. When de Yankees come, dey carried off +all de meat in de smokehouse, an' de blanket an' quilts, an' every thing +dey wanted, dey he'ped deyse'ves. None of de slaves went wid' em. + +"When Marse Cassedy come home he had de oberseer blow de horn 'bout ten +o'clock and tol' 'em all dey was freed. He said he'd work 'em fer wages, +an' nearly everyone of 'em stayed fer wages. I stayed wid Miss Mary +'bout ten years. Den I mar'ied. No, Jake an' me rid horse back an' went +to Magnolia an' got mar'ied. I doan know who mar'ied us--somebody in de +cou't house. + +"Me an' Jake went to Summit ter live'. We had to work mighty hard. +Sometimes I plowed in de fiel' all day; sometimes I washed an' den I +cooked, an' afte' 'while, we moved down to de new town. I come here when +dis town fust started. I cooked fer Mrs. Badenhauser, while he was +mayor of de town. Dey worked me hard. Me'n Jake's had some hard ups an' +downs. I had fo' chullun, none of dem livin' dat I know of. I might have +some grandchulluns but if I do, dey live up North. + +"I'm old an' can hardly git about. I'se got a cancer. De doctor done cut +my lef' brest clear offen me, but dat hurts me somtimes yit. + +"I niver jined any church 'til 'bout 20 year ago, right here in +Berglundtown. My church is Flowery Mount Baptist Church, an' my Brudder +Washin'ton is my pastor, an' he is de best preacher what ever lived. No, +Marse Cassedy didn't have no church fer de slaves. Dey went to de white +folks' church. + +"How do I live? Well I gits a pension of fo' dollars a month, an' I try +to wash a leetle fer de colored folks, an' den I beg. I can't stay here +long but God won't low me to starve. Bless God, he's comin' fer me some +day." + + + + +Wayne Holliday, Ex-slave Monroe County +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies +FEC +Mrs. Richard Kolb + +[WAYNE HOLLIDAY +Aberdeen, Mississippi] + + +"I was born an' raised in Aberdeen an' I'se been a railroad nigger fo' +mos' of my days. I'se retired now 'cause dey say I too old to work any +longer, but shucks, I ain't half dead yet. I was born in 1853 right here +close to whar I live now. My folks b'longed to de Hollidays--you know de +grand folks of Miss Maria Evans? An' we stayed right dere in de lot whar +de white folks lived. + +"My pa an' my ma was named Frank an' Sarah Holliday an' de Cunel brung +dem wid him frum North Car'lina. Dey was lot niggers an' never worked in +de fiel' or lived in de Quarters. My pa was one of de best carpenters in +de country. I was too young to work much but sometime I he'ped him +'roun' de house but mos' of de time, I jes played wid my brudders an' +sisters an' de white chullun what lived aroun'. We played marbles, +ridin' de stick hoss, an' play house jes lak de chullun do now days, but +I think we had mo' fun. Dey was fo'teen of us in our family an' we allus +had somebody to play wid. An' den li'l Marse Ben, he wa'nt much older +dan us. + +"Our marster's name was Cunel John Holiday. He got dat title in a war +before de slav'ry war. He was too old to fight in dat one, or I spect +he'd got another title, lak Gen'ral or somethin'. He an' Miss Julia--dat +was his wife--was mighty good to us an' so was Marse Tom and Marse Ben, +an' Miss Maria an' all. When de Cunel fust come to Mississippi he bought +a plantation in de prairies an' lived dere for a while. But later he +'cided to build him a house in town so he got my pa to he'p him build it +an' it was one of de purtiest houses in Aberdeen. It look jes lak it +allus did to me now. Co'se dey is worked on it several times since den, +but dey ain't changed it at all. + +"My mammy did de cookin' for de white folks dere. Dey all thought a lot +of her. I never knowed much what slav'ry was 'bout, to tell de truf. De +folks never treated us wrong an' chullun in dem days didn' get to run +aroun' lak dey do today an' we didn' get to hear no gossip 'bout de +other niggers. Since we didn' live in no quarters we didn' hear nothin. +Our folks never said nothin' 'cause dey was very well satisfied lak dey +was. We never hear of no whuppin's, or runaways either, 'til afte' de +War an' when we got older. + +"I 'member de War tho'. Marse Tom, he went fust, wid de Van Dorns. He +was made a capt'in or somethin' 'cause he was so brave. He fought long +wid de fust an' was one of de fust to get hit. Dey brung his body all de +way from Richmond, or Virginny, I fergit which, and lawzy, if de Cunel +an' de Miss didn' take on somethin' awful. Dey sho' loved dat boy an' +so did all of de niggers. Afte' dey buried him dey took his sword an' +hung it on de wall of de parlor. I reckin it still dar. + +"Marse Ben went afte' dat. He was jes old 'nough to go but he went an' +fought jes de same. He come back when de war was over an' dey was sho' +some rejoicin'. + +"Time wa'nt much diffrunt den dan it was 'fo de War. We stayed on wid +our folks for a long time. Den my pa started gettin' a li'l work here +an' dar an' purty soon he got all his chullun started out purty well. We +all went to de colored school what dey had down whar de railroad +crossin' is now, an' dat was whar I l'arned to read an' write. I didn' +marry for a good while an' den I went to work on de I.C. Railroad. I was +fust a coal heaver an' den a coach porter. I was faithful to my job an' +made good money an' soon built me a house of my own whar I raised my +family. I sent all my chullun to school an' dey is doin' well. My wife +worked right 'long wid me. She died 'bout two years ago. + +"I'se thankful I ain't got no sad mem'ries 'bout slav'ry times an' dat I +an' my folks is done as well as dey have. T'is de work of de Lawd." + +Wayne Holliday, who lived in slavery times, and whose father was a +slave, is 84 years old, a dried-up looking Negro of light tan color, +approximately 5 feet three inches high and weighing about 130 pounds, he +is most active and appears much younger than he really is. He is +slightly bent; his kinky hair is intermingled white and gray; and his +broad mouth boasts only one visible tooth, a particularly large one in +the extreme center of his lower gum. + +Wayne has the manner of a Negro of the old South and depicts, in his +small way, the gallantry of an age gone by. + + + + +Prince Johnson, Ex-slave, Coahoma County +FEC +Mrs. Carrie Campbell +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +PRINCE JOHNSON +Clarksdale, Mississippi + + +"Yes mam, I sho' can tell you all 'bout it 'cause I was dere when it all +happened. My gran'pa, Peter, gran'ma, Millie, my pa, John, an' my ma, +Frances, all come from Alabama to Yazoo County to live in de Love +fam'ly. Dey names was Dennis when day come, but, after de custom o' dem +days, dey took de name of Love from dey new owner. Me an' all o' my +brothers an' sisters was born right dere. Dey was eleven head o' us. I +was de oldes'. Den come Harry, John, William, Henry, Phillis, Polly, +Nellie, Virginny, Millie, an' de baby, Ella. + +"Us all lived in de quarters an' de beds was home made. Dey had wooden +legs wid canvas stretched 'crost 'em. I can't 'member so much 'bout de +quarters 'cause 'bout dat time de young miss married Colonel Johnson an' +moved to dis place in Carroll County. She carried wid her over one +hund'ed head o' darkies. + +"Den us names was changed from Love to Johnson. My new marster was sure +a fine gent'man. He lived in a big two-story white house dat had big +white posts in front. De flowers all' roun' it jus' set it off. + +"Marster took me for de house boy. Den I sho' carried my head high. +He'd say to me, 'Prince does you know who you is named for?' An' I'd say +to him, 'Yes sir. Prince Albert.' An' den he'd say to me, 'Well, always +carry yo'se'f lak he did.' To dis good day I holds myse'f lak Marster +said. + +"On certain days o' de week one o' de old men on de place took us house +servants to de fiel' to learn us to work. Us was brought up to know how +to do anything dat come to han'. Marster would let us work at odd times +for outsiders an' us could use de money for anything us pleased. My +gran'ma sol' 'nough corn to buy her two feather beds. + +"Us always had plenty t'eat. De old folks done de cookin' for all de +fiel' han's, 'cept on Sund'y when ever' fam'ly cooked for dey ownse'fs. +Old Mis' 'ud come over ever' Sund'y mornin' wid sugar an' white flour. +Us 'ud mos' ingen'ally have fish, rabbits, 'possums, or coons. Lord, +chil'! Dem 'possums was good eatin'. I can tas' 'em now. + +"Folks dese days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin'. My marster had a +great big garden for ever'body an' I aint never seen such 'taters as +growed in dat garden. Dey was so sweet de sugar 'ud bus' right th'ough +de peelin' when you roasted 'em in de ashes. + +"Old Aunt Emily cooked for all de chillun on de place. Ha'f a hour by de +sun, dey was all called in to supper. Dey had pot likker an' ash cake +an' such things as would make 'em grow. + +"Chillun den didn' know nothin' 'bout all de fancy ailments what chillun +have now. Dey run an' played all day in dey shirt tails in de summer +time. When winter come dey had good warm clo'es[FN: clothes] same as us +older ones. + +"One day Marster's chillun an' de cullud chillun slipped off to de +orchard. Dey was jus' a-eatin' green apples fas' as dey could when 'long +come de master, hisse'f. He lined 'em all up, black an' white alike, an' +cut a keen switch. Twant a one in dat line dat didn' git a few licks. +Den he called de old doctor woman an' made 'er give 'em ever' one a dose +o' medicine. Dey didn' a one of' em git sick. + +"Marster an' Old Mis' had five chillun. Dey is all dead an' gone now, +an' I's still here. One o' his sons was a Supreme Judge 'fore he died. + +"My folks was sho' quality. Marster bought all de little places 'roun' +us so he wouldn' have no po' white trash neighbors. Yes sir! He owned +'bout thirty-five hund'ed acres an' at leas' a hund'ed an' fifty slaves. + +"Ever' mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock us could hear dat horn blow for us to +git up an' go to de fiel'. Us always quit work 'fore de sun went down +an' never worked at night. De overseer was a white man. His name was +Josh Neighbors, but de driver was a cullud man, 'Old Man Henry.' He +wasn't 'lowed to mistreat noboby. If he got too uppity dey'd call his +han', right now. De rule was, if a Nigger wouldn' work he mus' be sol'. +'Nother rule on dat place was dat if a man got dissati'fied, he was to +go to de marster an' ask him to put 'im in his pocket.' Dat meant he +wanted to be sol' an' de money he brought put in de marster's pocket. I +aint never known o' but two askin' to be 'put in de pocket.' Both of +'em was sol'. + +"Dey had jails in dem days, but dey was built for white folks. No cullud +person was ever put in one of 'em 'til after de war. Us didn' know +nothin' 'bout dem things. + +"Course, Old Mis' knowed 'bout 'em, 'cause she knowed ever'thing. I +recollec' she tol' me one day dat she had learnin' in five diffe'ent +languages. + +"None o' us didn' have no learnin' atall. Dat is us didn' have no book +learnin'. Twant no teachers or anything lak dat, but us sho' was taught +to be Christians. Ever'thing on dat place was a blue stockin' +Presbyterian. When Sund'y come us dressed all clean an' nice an' went to +church. Us went to de white folks' church an' set in de gal'ry. + +"Us had a fine preacher. His name was Gober. He could sho' give out de +words o' wisdom. Us didn' have big baptisins lak was had on a heap o' +places, 'cause Presbyterians don't go down under de water lak de Baptis' +do. If one o' de slaves died he was sho' give a gran' Christian fun'al. +All o' us mourners was on han'. Services was conducted by de white +preacher. + +"Old Mis' wouldn' stan' for no such things as voodoo an' ha'nts. When +she 'spected[FN: inspected] us once a week, you better not have no charm +'roun' yo' neck, neither. She wouldn' even 'low[FN: allow] us wear a bag +o' asfittidy[FN: asafetida]. Mos' folks b'lieved dat would keep off +sickness. She called such as dat superstition. She say us was 'lightened +Christian Presbyterians, an' as such us mus' conduc' ourse'fs. + +"Nobody worked after dinner on Satu'd'y. Us took dat time to scrub up +an' clean de houses so as to be ready for 'spection Sund'y mornin'. Some +Satu'd'y nights us had dances. De same old fiddler played for us dat +played for de white folks. An' he sho' could play. When he got dat old +fiddle out you couldn' keep yo' foots still. + +"Christ'mus was de time o' all times on dat old plantation. Dey don't +have no such as dat now. Ever' chil' brought a stockin' up to de Big +House to be filled. Dey all wanted one o' de mistis' stockin's, 'cause +now she weighed nigh on to three hund'ed pounds. Candy an' presents was +put in piles for ever' one. When dey names was called dey walked up an' +got it. Us didn' work on New Year's Day. Us could go to town or anywhere +us wanted to. + +"De mos' fun was de corn shuckin'. Dey was two captains an' each one +picked de ones he wanted on his side. Den de shuckin' started. You can't +make mention o' nothin good dat us didn' have t'eat after de shuckin'. I +still studies' bout dem days now. + +"Dey was big parties at de white folks' house, me, all dressed up wid +taller[FN: tallow] on my face to make it shine, a-servin' de gues'es[FN: +guests]. + +"One time, jus' when ever'thing was a-goin' fine, a sad thing happened. +My young mistis, de one named for her ma, ups an' runs off wid de son o' +de Irish ditch digger an' marries 'im. She wouldn' a-done it if dey'd +a-let 'r marry de man she wanted. Dey didn' think he was good 'nough for +her. So jus' to spite' em, she married de ditch digger's son. + +"Old Mis' wouldn' have nothin' more to do wid 'er, same as if she warnt +her own chil'. But I'd go over to see 'er an' carry milk an' things out +o' de garden. + +"It was pitiful to see my little miss poor. When I couldn' stan' it no +longer I walks right up to Old Mis' an' I says, 'Old Mis', does you know +Miss Farrell aint got no cow.' She jus' act lak she aint hear'd me, an' +put her lips together dat tight. I couldn' do nothin' but walk off an' +leave her. Pretty soon she called, 'Prince!' I says, 'Yes mam.' She +says, 'Seein' you is so concerned 'bout Miss Farrell not havin' no cow, +you better take one to 'er.' I foun' de rope an' carried de bes' cow in +de lot to Miss Farrell. + +"Shortly after dat I lef' wid Old Marster to go to North Carolina. Jus' +'fore de war come on, my marster called me to' im an' tol' me he was +a-goin' to take me to North Carolina to his brother for safe keepin'. +Right den I knowed somethin' was wrong. I was a-wishin' from de bottom +o' my heart dat de Yankees 'ud stay out o' us business an' not git us +all 'sturbed in de min'. + +"Things went on at his brother's place 'bout lak dey done at home. I +stayed dere all four years o' de war. I couldn' leave 'cause de men +folks all went to de war an' I had to stay an' pertec' de women folks. + +"De day peace was declared wagon loads o' people rode all th'ough de +place a-tellin' us 'bout bein' free. De old Colonel was killed in battle +an' his wife had died. De young marster called us in an' said it was all +true, dat us was free as he was, an' us could leave whenever us got +ready. He said his money warnt no good anymore an' he dida' have no +other to pay us wid. + +"I can't recollec' if he got new money an' paid us or not, but I do +'member ever' las' one o' us stayed. + +"I never lef' dat place' til my young marster, Mr. Jim Johnson, de one +dat was de Supreme Judge, come for me. He was a-livin' in South Carolina +den. He took us all home wid 'im. Us got dere in time to vote for +Gov'nor Wade Hamilton. Us put 'im in office, too. De firs' thing I done +was join de Democrat Club an' hoped[FN: helped] 'em run all o' de +scalawags away from de place. My young marster had always tol' me to +live for my country an' had seen 'nought of dat war to know jus' what +was a-goin' on. + +"I'se seen many a patrol in my lifetime, but dey dassent come on us +place. Now de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Ku Kluxes] was diff'ent. I rid[FN: rode] +wid' em many a time. 'Twas de only way in dem days to keep order. + +"When I was 'bout twenty-two year old, I married Clara Breaden. I had +two chilluns by her, Diana an' Davis. My secon' wife's name was Annie +Bet Woods. I had six chillun by her: Mary, Ella, John D., Claud William, +an' Prince, Jr. Three boys an' two gals is still livin'. I lives wid my +daughter, Claud, what is farmin' a place 'bout five miles from +Clarksdale. I has' bout fifteen head o' gran'chillun an' ever' las' one +of 'em's farmers. + +"Things is all peaceful now, but de worl' was sho' stirred up when +Abraham Lincoln was 'lected. I 'member well when dey killed 'im. Us had +a song' bout 'im dat went lak dis: + + 'Jefferson Davis rode de milk white steed, + Lincoln rode de mule. + Jeff Davis was a mighty fine man, + An' Lincoln was a fool.' + +"One o' de little gals was a-singin' dat song one day an' she mixed dem +names up. She had it dat Marse Davis was de fool. I'se laughed 'bout dat +many a time. When Mistis finished wid' er she had sho' broke her from +suckin' eggs. + +"I knows all 'bout what slave uprisin's is, but never in my life has I +seen anything lak dat. Never! Never! Where I was brought up de white man +knowed his place an' de Nigger knowed his'n[FN: his]. Both of' em stayed +in dey place. We aint never had no lynchin's, neither. + +"I know all 'bout Booker T. Washington. He come to de state o' +Mississippi once an' hel' a meetin' in Jackson. He made a gran' talk. He +made mention 'bout puttin' money in de bank. Lots o' darkies made +'membrance o' dat an' done it. He tol' us de firs' thing us had to learn +was to work an' dat all de schoolin' in de worl' wouldn' mean nothin' if +us didn' have no mother wit[FN: energy & common sense]. It's a pity us +aint got more folks lak him to guide us now dat us aint got no marster +an' mistis to learn us. + +"I's a Nigger what has been prosperous. I made a-plenty cotton an' I +teached my chillun to be good blue stockin' Presbyterians. All 'roun' de +country I was knowed an' ever'body b'lieved in me. + +"Maybe things is better lak dey is today. Mos' folks says so anyway. But +if Old Marster were a-livin' I'd be better off. I know dat to be so. + +"I can hear 'im say to me new, 'Prince Albert, who is you named for? +Well den hol' yo' head high so folks can see you is quality.'" + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[HAMP KENNEDY +Mahned, Mississippi] + + +Uncle Hamp Kennedy, a farmer, 78 years old, weighs about 135 pounds, and +is about 5 feet 9 inches high. His head is bald with a little gray fuzz +over his ears and growing low toward the nape of his neck. He does not +wear spectacles nor smoke a pipe. His face is clean shaven. + +Physically active, he does not use a crutch or cane and his hearing, +eyesight, and mind appear alert. The old Negro cannot read or write, but +he has a remarkable memory. He seems very happy in his little cabin +where he and his wife live alone, and his eyes beam with interest when +he remembers and discusses slavery times. + +"I was jes a little nigger when de War broke out--'bout fo' years ol', +my white folks say. I had a sister an' three brudders. My mammy an' +pappy was Mary Kennedy an' Lon Kennedy. My mammy was Mary Denham befo' +she mar'ied. I was born an' raised at Mahned, Mississippi. Old Miss Bill +Griffin was my missus. + +"De Yankees sho' come to our house--yes sir, dey did. De fust time dey +kotched our hogs an' cut off de hind part an' take hit wid' em. De front +part dey lef' in de fiel'. Dey carries corn in de saddle bags an' +throwed hit out to de chickens. Den when de chickens come up to eat dey +kotched 'em by de head an' wring hit off an' take all de chickens wid +'em. + +"Our white folks buried all dey silver in de groun' an' hid dey hosses +in de deep gullies near de plantation. Even dey clo'es an' meat dey +hide, an' de soljers didn' find nothin' 'cepin' de hosses, an' dey lef' +dey tired ones an' tuk our fresh ones wid' em. Dey burned de fiel's an' +orchards so our white folks couldn' he'p feed our soljers none. + +"One time I 'member when Aunt Charity an' Winnie McInnis, two niggers on +our plantation, tried to swim some of our hosses cross de riber to save +'em frum de soljers an' dey rode 'cross in a little boat. Well, when de +hosses got in de middle of de water, up comes a' gator[FN: alligator], +grabs one hoss by de ear, an' we ain't neber seed him no mo'. + +"When niggers run 'way frum de plantation dey was whupped, but dey had +to go to da sheriff to be whupped. De sheriff, he would tie de nigger to +a tree an' whup him till de blood run out. + +"'Bout de only recr'ation us niggers had in dem days was candy pullin's. +We all met at one house an' tol' ghost stories, sung plantation songs, +an' danced de clog while de candy was cookin'. Dem was de good old days. +Dey don't do dem things no mo'. + +"When a nigger died, we had a wake an' dat was diffrunt too frum whut +'tis today. Dey neber lef' a dead nigger 'lone in de house, but all de +neighbors was dere an' hoped[FN: helped]. Dey turned de mirrors to de +wall 'cause dey say once a long time ago, a nigger died an' three days +afte'wards his people looked in a mirror an' dere dey see da dead nigger +plain as day in de mirror. + +"At da wake we clapped our han's an' kep' time wid our feet--_Walking +Egypt_, dey calls hit--an' we chant an' hum all night 'till de nigger +was _funeralized_. + +"If we heerd a little old shiverin' owl[FN: screech owl] we'd th'ow salt +in de fire an' th'ow a broom 'cross de do' fer folks say dat 'twas a +sign of bad luck, an' a charm had to be worked fas' to keep sumpin' +terrible frum happenin', an' if a _big owl_ hollered, we wasn't 'lowed +to say one word. + +"Fire was 'bout de hardes' thing fer us to keep. Dere wa'nt no matches +in dem days, an' we toted fire frum one plantation to 'nother when hit +burned out. We put live coals in pans or buckets an' toted it home. + +"Sometimes we put heavy waddin' in a old gun an' shot hit out into a +brush heap an' then blowed the sparks' til de fire blazed. Ever'body had +flint rocks too, but few niggers could work 'em an' de ones dat could +allus had dat job to do. + +"My gran'mammy come frum South Ca'lina an' libed fust at New Augusta, +Mississippi. She used to pick big Catawba leaves an' roll her dough in +'em an' bake hit in a log heap, pilin' ashes over hit. Some called hit +ash cakes an' hit sho' was good. Nothin' lak hit dese days--no sir. + +"We had plen'y to eat--smoke sausage, beef, home made lard, an'--yes +sir, possum when we wanted hit. + +"We didn' git any pay fer our work but we had plen'y to eat an' clo'es +to wear, our clo'es was coarse but good. Most of 'em was wove on de +looms an' our socks an' stockings was knitted by de wimmin. De white +folks though, dey wear linen an' fine silk clo'es fer de big times. We +made blankets--coverlets, too. + +"We had 'bout 60 slaves on our place, an' if a nigger man on one +plantation fall in love wid a slave girl on 'nother place, dey jus' come +to her plantation an' jump ober de broom an' den dey is mar'ied. De +slabes never had preachers lak dey do at weddin's dese days. If de girl +didn't love de boy an' he jumped ober de broom an' she didn't, den dey +wa'nt mar'ied. + +"Dere was no schools in dem days either, an' I can't read an' write +today. Some of de white folks taught de younger niggers an' den dey tuk +dey lessons an' studied at dey cabin of nights afte' dey had finished +work. + +"We had prayer meetin's in each others houses durin' de week. One +plantation owner built a little church on his place an' de niggers, dey +go in de back do' an' sit in de back, an' white folks dey come in de +front of de church an' sit. De Presbyterin chu'ch was de only one 'round +dere an' dey sprinkled ever'body--jes poured water ober dey heads frum a +glass an' den patted hit hit in (demonstrated). + +"'Twas funny--one time Joe an' Green, two niggers on our place, et dey +supper an' run 'way at night an' afte' dey was kotched, dey tol' us dat +when dey was passin' through de woods dat night a great big old +gran'daddy owl flopped his wings an' Joe said 'we'd better turn back.' I +allus heard hit was bad luck fer to hear a owl floppin' lack dat, but +Green said 'twant nothin', jes a old owl floppin', but he jes naturally +flopped diffrunt dat night, an' Green walked on 'bout 15 steps an' +somebody shot him dead. Joe said he tu'ned back an' run home. + +"All our niggers had to have passes to leave de plantation an' when de +pataroller kotched 'em wid out'n a pass, de nigger was whupped. +Sometimes de plantation owner did hit an' sometimes de sheriff. Dey +used a long leather strop cut at de ends. + +"We used snake root, hohound weed, life everlastin' weed, horse mint, +an' sassafras as medicine. + +"When de War was right on us, grub was scarce an' sometimes little +niggers only had clabber milk an' dey et it in de trough wid de pigs, +an' sometimes dey only had pie crusts an' bread crusts at night when dey +et on de cabin flo'. Dem was hard times afte' de War. + +"'Nother time one nigger run 'way frum our plantation an' hid by day an' +traveled by night so de nigger dogs wouldn't git him an' he hid in a +hollow tree. Dere was three cubs down in dat tree an' hit was so slick +inside an' so high 'til he couldn't clim' out, an' afte' while de ole +bear came back an' throw in half a hog. Den she go 'way an' come ag'in +an' throw in de other half. 'Bout a hour later, she came back an' crawl +in back'ards herse'f. De nigger inside de tree kotched her by de tail +an' pulled hisself out. Hit scared de bear so 'til she run in one +direction an' de nigger in 'nother. But de nigger, he run in de +direction of his marster's place an' said he'd neber run off again as +long as he libed. + +"I can't 'member de old songs but dese niggers today can't sing lak dat +neither 'cause dey ain't libed back dere, an' dey can't feel hit lak us +old folks. Dem was de good old days allright, an' dey was hard days +too." + + + + +JAMES LUCAS +Natchez, Mississippi + + +James Lucas, ex-slave of Jefferson Davis, lives at Natchez, Adams +County. Uncle Jim is small, wrinkled, and slightly stooped. His woolly +hair is white, and his eyes very bright. He wears a small grizzled +mustache. He is always clean and neatly dressed. + +"Miss, you can count up for yo'se'f. I was born on October 11, 1833. My +young Marster give me my age when he heired de prope'ty of his uncle, +Marse W.B. Withers. He was a-goin' through de papers an' a-burnin' some +of 'em when he foun' de one 'bout me. Den he says, 'Jim, dissen's 'bout +you. It gives yo' birthday.' + +"I recollec' a heap' bout slav'ry-times, but I's all by myse'f now. All +o' my frien's has lef' me. Even Marse Fleming has passed on. He was a +little boy when I was a grown man. + +"I was born in a cotton fiel' in cotton pickin' time, an' de wimmins +fixed my mammy up so she didn' hardly lose no time at all. My mammy sho' +was healthy. Her name was Silvey an' her mammy come over to dis country +in a big ship. Somebody give her de name o' Betty, but twant her right +name. Folks couldn' un'erstan' a word she say. It was some sort o' +gibberish dey called gulluh-talk, an' it soun' _dat_ funny. My pappy was +Bill Lucas. + +"When I was a little chap I used to wear coarse lowell-cloth shirts on +de week-a-days. Dey was long an' had big collars. When de seams ripped +de hide would show through. When I got big enough to wait 'roun' at de +Big House an' go to town, I wore clean rough clo'es. De pants was white +linsey-woolsey an' de shirts was rough white cotton what was wove at de +plantation. In de winter de sewin' wimmins made us heavy clothes an' +knit wool socks for us. De wimmins wore linsey-woolsey dresses an' long +leggin's lak de sojers wear. Dis was a long narrow wool cloth an' it +wropt 'roun' an' 'roun' dey legs an' fas'n at de top wid a string. + +"I never went to no church, but on Sund'ys a white man would preach an' +pray wid us an' when he'd git through us went on 'bout us own business. + +"At Chris'mus de Marster give de slaves a heap o' fresh meat an' whiskey +for treats. But you better not git drunk. No-sir-ree! Den on Chris'mus +Eve dey was a big dance an' de white folks would come an' see de one +what dance de bes'. Marster an' Mistis laugh fit to kill at de capers us +cut. Den sometimes dey had big weddin's an' de young white ladies +dressed de brides up lak dey was white. Sometimes dey sont to N'awleans +for a big cake. De preacher married' em wid de same testimony[FN: +ceremony] dey use now. Den ever'body'd have a little drink an' some +cake. It sho' was larrupin'[FN: very good][HW:?]. Den ever'body'd git +right. Us could dance near 'bout all night. De old-time fiddlers played +fas' music an' us all clapped han's an' tromped an' sway'd in time to de +music. Us sho' made de rafters ring. + +"Us slaves didn' pay no 'tention to who owned us, leastways de young +ones didn'. I was raised by a marster what owned a heap o' lan's. Lemme +see, dey is called Artonish, Lockdale, an' Lockleaven. Dey is +plantations 'long de river in Wilkinson County, where I was raised. Dey +is all 'long together. + +"I's sho' my firs' marster was Marse Jim Stamps an' his wife was Miss +Lucindy. She was nice an' sof'-goin'. Us was glad when she stayed on de +plantation. + +"Nex' thing I knowed us all b'longed to Marse Withers. He was from de +nawth an' he didn' have no wife. (Marsters wid-out wives was de debbil. +I knows a-plenty what I oughtn' tell to ladies. Twant de marsters whut +was so mean. Twas dem po' white trash overseers an' agents. Dey was +mean; dey was meaner dan bulldogs. Yes'm, wives made a big diffe'nce. +Dey was kin' an' went 'bout mongst de slaves a-lookin' after 'em. Dey +give out food an' clo'es an' shoes. Dey doctered de little babies.) When +things went wrong de wimmins was all de time puttin' me up to tellin' de +Mistis. Marse D.D. Withers was my young marster. He was a little man, +but ever'body stepped when he come 'roun'. + +"Don' rightly know how it come 'bout. Lemme see! De bes' I 'member my +nex' Marster was Pres'dent Jefferson Davis hisse'f. Only he warnt no +pres'dent den. He was jus' a tall quiet gent'man wid a pretty young wife +what he married in Natchez. Her name was Miss Varina Howell, an' he sho' +let her have her way. I spec I's de only one livin' whose eyes ever seed +'em bofe. I talked wid her when dey come in de big steamboat. 'Fore us +got to de big house, I tol' her all 'bout de goins'-on on de +plantations. She was a fine lady. When I was a boy 'bout thirteen years +old dey took me up de country toward Vicksburg to a place call +Briarsfield. It mus'-a been named for her old home in Natchez what was +called 'de Briars.' I didn' b'long to Marse Jeff no great while, but I +aint never fo'git de look of 'im. He was always calm lak an' savin' on +his words. His wife was jus' de other way. She talked more dan a-plenty. + +"I b'lieves a bank sol' us nex' to Marse L.Q. Chambers. I 'members him +well. I was a house-servant an' de overseer dassent hit me a lick. +Marster done lay de law down. Mos' planters lived on dey plantations +jus' a part o' de year. Dey would go off to Saratogy an' places up +nawth. Sometimes Marse L.Q. would come down to de place wid a big wagon +filled wid a thousan' pair o' shoes at one time. He had a nice wife. One +day whilst I was a-waitin' on de table I see old Marse lay his knife +down jus' lak he tired. Den he lean back in his chair, kinda still lak. +Den I say, 'What de matter wid Marse L.Q.?' Den dey all jump an' scream +an', bless de Lawd, if he warnt plumb dead. + +"Slaves didn' know what to 'spec from freedom, but a lot of 'em hoped +dey would be fed an' kep' by de gov'ment. Dey all had diffe'nt ways o' +thinkin' 'bout it. Mos'ly though dey was jus' lak me, dey didn' know +jus' zackly what it meant. It was jus' somp'n dat de white folks an' +slaves all de time talk 'bout. Dat's all. Folks dat ain' never been free +don' rightly know de _feel_ of bein' free. Dey don' know de meanin' of +it. Slaves like us, what was owned by quality-folks, was sati'fied an' +didn' sing none of dem freedom songs. I recollec' one song dat us could +sing. It went lak dis: + + 'Drinkin' o' de wine, drinkin' o' de wine, + Ought-a been in heaven three-thousan' yeahs + A-drinkin' o' dat wine, a-drinkin' o' dat wine.' + +Us could shout dat one. + +"I was a grown-up man wid a wife an' two chillun when de War broke out. +You see, I stayed wid de folks til 'long cum de Yanks. Dey took me off +an' put me in de War. Firs', dey shipped me on a gunboat an', nex', dey +made me he'p dig a canal at Vicksburg. I was on de gunboat when it +shelled de town. It was turrible, seein' folks a-tryin' to blow each +other up. Whilst us was bull-doggin' Vicksburg in front, a Yankee army +slipped in behin' de Rebels an' penned 'em up. I fit[FN: fought] at Fort +Pillow an' Harrisburg an' Pleasant Hill an' 'fore I was ha'f through wid +it I was in Ba'timore an' Virginny. + +"I was on han' when Gin'l Lee handed his sword to Gin'l Grant. You see, +Miss, dey had him all hemmed in an' he jus' natchelly had to give up. I +seen him stick his sword up in de groun'. + +"Law! It sho' was turrible times. Dese old eyes o' mine seen more people +crippled an' dead. I'se even seen 'em saw off legs wid hacksaws. I tell +you it aint right, Miss, what I seen. It aint right atall. + +"Den I was put to buryin' Yankee sojers. When nobody was lookin' I +stript de dead of dey money. Sometimes dey had it in a belt a-roun' dey +bodies. Soon I got a big roll o' foldin' money. Den I come a-trampin' +back home. My folks didn' have no money but dat wuthless kin'. It was +all dey knowed 'bout. When I grabbed some if it an' throwed it in de +blazin' fiah, dey thought I was crazy, 'til I tol' 'em, 'dat aint money; +it's no 'count!' Den I give my daddy a greenback an' tol' him what it +was. + +"Aftah de War was over de slaves was worse off dan when dey had +marsters. Some of 'em was put in stockades at Angola, Loosanna[FN: +Louisiana], an' some in de turrible corral at Natchez. Dey warnt used to +de stuff de Yankees fed 'em. Dey fed' em wasp-nes' bread, 'stead o' +corn-pone an' hoe cake, an' all such lak. Dey caught diseases an' died +by de hund'eds, jus' lak flies. Dey had been fooled into thinkin' it +would be good times, but it was de wors' times dey ever seen. Twant no +place for 'em to go; no bed to sleep on; an' no roof over dey heads. Dem +what could git back home set out wid dey min's made up to stay on de +lan'. Mos' of dey mistis' took 'em back so dey wuked de lan' ag'in. I +means dem what lived to git back to dey folks was more'n glad to wuk! +Dey done had a sad lesson. Some of 'em was worse'n slaves after de War. + +"Dem Ku Kluxes was de debbil. De Niggers sho' was scared of 'em, but dey +was more after dem carpet-baggers dan de Niggers. I lived right in +'mongst 'em, but I wouldn' tell. No Ma'm! I knowed 'em, but I dasn' +talk. Sometimes dey would go right in de fiel's an' take folks out an' +kill 'em. Aint none of 'em lef' now. Dey is all dead an' gone, but dey +sho' was rabid den. I never got in no trouble wid 'em, 'cause I tended +my business an' kep' out o' dey way. I'd-a been kilt if I'd-a run 'roun' +an' done any big talkin'. + +"I never knowed Marse Linc'um, but I heard he was a pow'ful good man. I +'members plain as yesterd'y when he got kilt an' how all de flags hung +at ha'f mas'. De Nawth nearly went wil' wid worryin' an' blamed +ever'body else. Some of 'em even tried to blame de killin' on Marse +Davis. I fit wid de Yankees, but I thought a mighty heap o' Marse Davis. +He was quality. + +"I guess slav'ry was wrong, but I 'members us had some mighty good +times. Some marsters was mean an' hard but I was treated good all time. +One thing I does know is dat a heap of slaves was worse off after de +War. Dey suffered 'cause dey was too triflin' to work widout a boss. Now +dey is got to work or die. In dem days you worked an' rested an' knowed +you'd be fed. In de middle of de day us rested an' waited for de horn to +blow to go back to de fiel'. Slaves didn' have nothin' turrible to worry +'bout if dey acted right. Dey was mean slaves de same as dey was mean +marsters. + +"Now-a-days folks don' live right. In slav'ry times when you got sick a +white docter was paid to git you well. Now all you gits is some no-count +paten' medicine. You is 'fraid to go to de horspital, 'cause de docters +might cut on yo' stummick. I think slav'ry was a lot easier dan de War. +Dat was de debbil's own business. Folks what hankers for war don' know +what dey is askin' for. Dey ain' never seen no bloodshed. In war-times a +man was no more dan a varmint. + +"When my white folks tol' us us was free, I waited. When de sojers come +dey turnt us loose lak animals wid nothin'. Dey had no business to set +us free lak dat. Dey gimme 160 acres of lan', but twant no 'count. It +was in Mt. Bayou, Arkansas, an' was low an' swampy. Twant yo' lan' to +keep lessen you lived on it. You had to clear it, dreen it, an' put a +house on it. + +"How I gwine-a dreen an' clear a lot o' lan' wid nothin' to do it wid? +Reckon somebody livin' on my lan' now. + +"One of de rights of bein' free was dat us could move 'roun' and change +bosses. But I never cared nothin' 'bout dat. + +"I hear somebody say us gwine-a vote. What I wanta vote for? I don' know +nothin' 'bout who is runnin'. + +"I draws a Federal pension now. If I lives' til nex' year I'll git $125 +a mont'. It sho' comes in handy. I paid $800 for my house an', if I'd-a +thought, I'd-a got one wid mo' lan'. I don' wan' to plant nothin'. I do +want to put a iron fence a-roun' it an' gild it wid silver paint. Den +when I's gone, dar it will be. + +"Yes'm. I'se raised a big fambly. Dem what aint dead, some of' em looks +as old as I does. I got one gran-chil' I loves jus' lak my own chillun. +I don' rightly 'member dis minute how many chillun I had, but I aint had +but two wives. De firs' one died long 'bout seventeen years ago, an' I +done what de Good Book say. It say, 'when you goes to de graveyard to +bury yo' firs' wife, look over de crowd an' pick out de nex' one.' + +"Dat's jus' what I done. I picked Janie McCoy, 'cause she aint never +been married b'fore. She's a good cook, even if she does smoke a pipe, +an' don' know much' bout nothin'. + +"I sho' don' live by no rules. I jus' takes a little dram when ever I +wants it, an' I smokes a pipe 'ceptin when de Mistis give me a +seegar[FN: cigar]. I can't chew tobacco on 'count my teeth is gone. I +aint been sick in bed but once in seventy years. + +"I is five feet, five inches tall. I used to weigh 150 pounds, but dis +old carcass o' mine done los' fifty pounds of meat. + +"Now-a-days I has a heap of misery in my knee, so I can't ride 'roun' no +mo'. Durin' de War I got a muskit ball in my hip an' now dat my meat's +all gone, it jolts a-roun' an' hurts me worse. I's still right sprightly +though. I can jump dat drainage ditch in front of de house, an' I sho' +can walk. Mos' every day I walks to de little sto' on Union Street. Dar +I rests long enough to pass de time-o-day wid my neighbors. My eyes is +still good, but I wears glasses for show an' for seein' close. + +"De longer I lives de plainer I see dat it ain' right to want mo' dan +you can use. De Lawd put a-plenty here for ever'body, but shucks! Us +don' pay no min' to his teachin'. Sometimes I gits lonesome for de +frien's I used to know, 'cause aint nobody lef' but me. I's sho' been +lef a fur piece[FN: long way] b'hin'. De white folks say, 'Old Jim is de +las' leaf on de tree,' an' I 'spec dey's 'bout right." + + + + +Sam McAllum, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County +FEC +Marjorie Woods Austin +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +SAM McALLUM +Meridian, Mississippi + + +To those familiar with the history of "Bloody Kemper" as recorded, the +following narrative from the lips of an eye-witness will be heresy. But +the subject of this autobiography, carrying his ninety-five years more +trimly than many a man of sixty, is declared sound of mind as well as of +body by the Hector Currie family, prominent in Mississippi, for whom he +has worked in a position of great trust and responsibility for fifty +years or more. + +While this old Negro may be mistaken at some points (the universal +failing of witnesses), his impressions are certainly not more involved +than the welter of local records. Mrs. Currie states that if Sam said he +saw a thing happen thus, it may be depended upon that he is telling +exactly what he really saw. + +Sam McAllum, ex-slave, lives in Meridian, Lauderdale County. Sam is five +feet three inches tall and weighs 140 pounds. + + +"De firs' town I ever seen were DeKalb in Kemper County. De Stephenson +Plantation where I were born warnt but 'bout thirteen miles north o' +DeKalb. I were born de secon' o' September in 1842. My mammy b'longed to +de Stephensons an' my pappy b'longed to Marster Lewis Barnes. His +plantation wasn't so very far from Stephenson. De Stephensons an' +Barneses were kin' white people. My pappy were a old man when I were +born--I were de baby chil'. After he died, my mammy marry a McAllum +Nigger. + +"Dey were 'bout thirty slaves at Stephenson. My mammy worked in de +fiel', an' her mammy, Lillie, were de yard-woman. She looked after de +little cullud chillun. + +"I don't recollec' any playthings us had 'cept a ball my young marster +gimme. He were Sam Lewis Stephenson, 'bout my age. De little cullud +chillun' ud play 'Blin' Man', 'Hidin'', an' jus' whatever come to han'. + +"My young marster learned me out o' his speller, but Mistis whupped me. +She say I didn' need to learn nothin' 'cept how to count so's I could +feed de mules widout colicin' 'em. You give' em ten years[FN: ears] o' +corn to de mule. If you give' em more, it 'ud colic' 'em an' dey'd die. +Dey cos' more'n a Nigger would. Dat were de firs' whuppin' I ever +got--when me an' my young marster were a-spellin'. + +"I stayed wid him special, but I waited on all de white folk's chillun +at Stephenson. I carried de foot tub in at night an' washed dey foots, +an' I'd pull de trun'le bed out from under de other bed. All de boys +slep' in de same room. + +"Den I were a yard boy an' waited on de young marster an' mistis. Hadn' +been to de fiel' den--hadn' worked yet. + +"Mr. Stephenson were a surveyor an' he fell out wid Mr. McAllum an' had +a lawsuit. He had to pay it in darkies. Mr. McAllum had de privilege o' +takin' me an' my mammy, or another woman an' her two. He took us. So us +come to de McAllum plantation to live. It were in Kemper, too, 'bout +eight miles from Stephenson. Us come dere endurin' of de war. Dat were +when my mammy marry one of de McAllum Niggers. My new pappy went to de +war wid Mr. McAllum an' were wid 'im when he were wounded at Mamassas +Gab Battle. He brung 'im home to die--an' he done it. + +"Den de Yankees come th'ough DeKalb huntin' up cannons an' guns an' +mules. Dey sho' did eat a heap. Us hid all de bes' things lak silver, +an' driv'[FN: drove] de stock to de swamp. Dey didn' burn nothin', but +us hear'd tell o' burnin's in Scooba an' Meridian. I were a-plowin' a +mule an' de Yankees made me take him out. De las' I seen o' dat mule, he +were headed for Scooba wid three Yankees a-straddle of 'im. + +"Times were tight--not a grain o' coffee an' not much else. When us +clo'es[FN: clothes] were plumb wore out, de mistis an' de Nigger wimmins +made us some out o' de cotton us had raised. My granny stayed de +loom-room all de time. De other winmins done de spinnin' an' she done de +weavin'. She were a' good'n'. + +"De M & O (Mobile & Ohio Railroad) were a-burnin' wood, den. Dey couldn' +git coal. Dey used taller[FN: tallow] pots 'stead o' oil. De engineer +had to climb out on de engine hisse'f an' 'tend to dam taller pots. Dey +do diffe'nt now. + +"Dey were such a sca'city of men, dey were a-puttin' 'em in de war at +sixty-five. But de war end 'fore dey call dat list. + +"Mistis didn' have nobody to he'p her endurin' de war. She had to do de +bes' she could. + +"When she hear'd de Niggers talkin' 'bout bein' free, she wore 'em out +wid a cowhide. She warnt a pow'ful-built woman, neither. She had to do +it herse'f, 'cause twant nobody to do it for 'er. Dey warnt nothin' a +Nigger could do but stan' up an' take it. + +"Some folks treated dey slaves mighty bad--put Nigger dogs on 'em. All +my white folks were good to dey slaves, 'cordin' to how good de Niggers +b'haved deyse'fs. Course, you couldn' leave no plantation widout a pass, +or de pateroller'd git you. I aint countin' dat, 'cause dat were +somthin' ever'body knowed 'forehan'. + +"Dey were a heap o' talk 'bout de Yankees a-givin' ever' Nigger forty +acres an' a mule. I don't know how us come to hear 'bout it. It jus' +kinda got aroun'. I picked out my mule. All o' us did. + +"Times were mighty tough. Us thought us knowed trouble endurin' de war. +Um-m-m! Us didn' know nothin' 'bout trouble. + +"Dey were so many slaves at McAllum's, dey had to thin 'em out. Mistis +put us out[FN: hired us out]. She sent me to Mr. Scott close to Scooba. +I were mos' a grown boy by den an' could plow pretty good. Come de +surrender, Mr. Scott say, 'Sambo, I don't have to pay yo' mistis for you +no more. I have to pay you if you stay. Niggers is free. You is free.' I +didn' b'lieve it. I worked dat crop out, but I didn' ask for no pay. Dat +didn' seem right. I didn' un'erstan' 'bout freedom, so I went home to my +old mistis. She say, 'Sambo, you don't b'long to me now.' + +"Dey bound us young Niggers out. Dey sent me an' my brother to a man dat +were goin' to give us some learnin' 'long wid farmin'. His name were +Overstreet. Us worked dat crop out, but us aint never seen no speller, +nor nothin'. + +"Den us went back to Stephenson's, where us were born, to git us age. +Old mistis say, 'Sambo, you aint twenty-one yet.' + +"She cried, 'cause I had to go back to Mr. Overstreet. But I didn'. My +mammy an' me went back to McAllum's an' stayed until a man give us a +patch in turn[FN: return] for us he'pin' him on his farm. + +"I know 'bout de Kloo Kluxes[FN: Klu Kluxes]. I seen 'em. 'Bout de firs' +time I seen 'em were de las'. Aint nobody know zackly[FN: exactly] 'bout +dem Kloo Kluxes. Some say it were a sperrit dat hadn' had no water since +de war. One rider would drink fo' or five gallons at one time--kep' us +a-totin' buckets fas' as us could carry 'em. It were a sperrit, a evil +sperrit. + +"But folks dat aint acted right liable to be found mos' anytime tied up +some'r's: De Niggers were a-havin' a party one Satu'd'y night on +Hampton's plantation. Come some men on horses wid some kin' o' +scare-face on 'em. Dey were all wropped[FN: wrapped] up, disguised. De +horses were kivered[FN: covered] up, too. Dey call for Miler Hampton. He +were one o' de Hampton Niggers. He been up to somethin'. I don't know +what he done, but dey say he done somethin' bad. Dey didn' have no +trouble gittin' him, 'cause us were all scared us'd git kilt, too. Dey +carried 'im off wid 'em an' kilt him dat very night. + +"Us went to DeKalb nex' day in a drove an' ask de white folks to he'p +us. Us buy all de ammunition us could git to take de sperrit, 'cause us +were a-havin' 'nother party de nex' week. Dey didn' come to dat party. + +"I don't know why dey don't have no Kloo Kluxes now. De sperrit still +have de same power. + +"Den I go to work for Mr. Ed McAllum in DeKalb--when I aint workin' for +de Gullies. Mr. Ed were my young marster, you know, an' now he were de +jailor in DeKalb. + +"I knowed de Chisolms, too. Dat's how come I seen all I seen an' know +what aint never been tol'. I couldn' tell you dat. Maybe I's de only one +still livin' dat were grown an' right dere an' seen it happen. I aint +scared now nothin' 'ud happen to me for tellin'--Mr. Currie'd see to +dat--I jus' aint never tol'. Dem dat b'longed to my race were scared to +tell. Maybe it were all for de bes'. Dat were a long time ago. Dey give +out things den de way dey wanted 'em to soun', an' dat's de way dey done +come down: + +"'It started wid Mr. John Gully gittin' shot. Now Mr. Gully were a +leadin' man 'mong de white democratic people in Kemper, but dey aint had +much chance for 'bout seven years (I disremember jus' how long) on +'count o' white folks lak de Chisolms runnin' ever'thing. Ever'body were +sho' it were some' o' de Chisolm crowd, but some folks knowed it were +dat Nigger, Walter Riley, dat shot Mr. Gully. (But aint nobody ever tol' +de sho' 'nough reason why Walter shot Mr. John Gully.) + +"'De Chisolms warnt Yankees, but dey warnt white democratic people. Dey +do say de Chisolms an' folks lak' em used to run 'roun' wid de Yankees. +Maybe dat's how come dey was diffe'nt. Even 'fore de Yankees come +a-tall, when Mr. Chisolm were on us side, he were loud moufed[FN: +mouthed] 'bout it. + +"'Mr. John Gully he'p Mr. Chisolm git to be judge, but he turnt out to +be worse dan dem he had to judge. Mr. Gully an' de others made 'im +resign. I reckon maybe dat's why he quit bein' a Democratic an' started +ructions wid Mr. Gully. + +"'Come de surrender, Mr. Chisolm, he got to be a big leader on de other +side. An' he seen to it dat a lot o' de white democratic men got he'p +from votin' an' a lot o' Niggers step up an' vote lak he tol' 'em (dey +were scared not to). So de Chisolms kep' gittin' all de big places. + +"'A lot o' widders an' folks lak dat what couldn' he'p deyse'fs los' dey +homes an' ever'thing dey had. De papers de gran' jury make out 'bout it +were stored in de sheriff's office. De sheriff give out dat his office +done been broke open an' all dem papers stole. + +"'Den Mr. Chisolm's brother got hisse'f p'inted[FN: appointed] sheriff +an' make Mr. Chisolm deputy. Dat's when he started runnin' things, sho' +'nough. Nex' thing you know, Mr. Chisolm is de sho' 'nough sheriff, +hisse'f. + +"'Den he gather all his kin' o' folks 'roun' 'im an' dey make out a +black lis'. De folkses names dat were on it were de ones de Chisolms +didn' need. It were talked 'roun' dat de firs' name on dat lis' were Mr. +John Gully's name. A heap o' Kloo Kluxes' names were on it, too. Mr. +Chisolm send de Kloo Kluxes' names to de Gov'nor an' spec' him to do +somethin' 'bout runnin' 'em out. But, course, he couldn' do nothin' +'bout dat, 'cause it were a sperrit. But ever' now an' den somebody +what's name were on dat lis' 'ud git shot in de back. + +"'Afore de 'lection come in November (it mus' a-been in '75) de Niggers +had been a-votin' an' doin' ever'thing de Chisolms say. Dey were still +a-harpin' back to dat forty acres an' a mule dey were promised what dey +aint never got. It were turnin' out to be jus' de same wid ever'thing +else Mr. Chisolm had been a-promisin' to give 'em. Dey aint never got +none of it. De white democratic folks won dat 'lection. + +"'Soon Mr. Chisolm run for somthin' or 'nother an' got beat bad. Den he +were mad sho' 'nough. He went to Jackson to see de Gov'nor 'bout it. +Soon a heap o' white democratic men in Kemper got arrested for somethin' +or nother. + +"'Den Mr. John Gully got shot an' ever'body were sho' de Chisolms done +it. Ever'body were dat mad. Chisolm an' dem had to go to court. But dey +were slippery as eels an' Walter Riley's name come out. (He were a +Nigger.) Dey give out at de trial dat Walter were hired to shoot 'im by +de Chisolm folks. Dat were not de reason, but dey was blood 'fore folks' +eyes by dat time. + +"'It got worse dat Satu'd'y when Mr. Gully were buried. Folks all over +Kemper done hear'd 'bout it by now, an' by nine o'clock Sund'y mornin', +people were a-comin' in over ever' road dat led to DeKalb. Dey all had +loaded guns. It were on a Sund'y when all de killin' happened--I mean, +de windin'-up killin'. I were dere 'fore a gun were fired. I were dere +when de firs' man were wounded. + +"'De cullud people had gathered in DeKalb at de Methodis' Church. Dey +hadn' a gun fired yet. Mr. Henry Gully goes to de cullud people's +church. He walked in at de front door an' took his hat off his head. Dey +were a-packed in de house for preachin'. He walked down de aisle 'til he +got in front o' de preacher an' he turn sideways an' speak: "I want to +ask you to dismiss yo' congregation. Dey is goin' to be some trouble +take place right here in DeKalb an' I don't want any cullud person to +git hurt." De preacher rise to his feet, ever' Nigger in de house were +up, an' he dismiss 'em. (Mr. Henry Gully were Mr. John Gully's brother +an' a leadin' man o' de right.) + +"'De town were a-millin' wid folks from ever'where. Chisolm an' dem done +got in de jail for safety an' Miss Cornelia Chisolm went back'ards an' +for'ards to de jail. Dey thought she were a-carryin' ammunition in her +clo'es[FN: clothes] to her father. Mr. McClendon--he were one of' +em--were wid her twict. He were on de right-hand side. Some b'lieved he +were de one dat killed Mr. John Gully. Dey tol' 'im dey'd burn his house +down if he stay in it, but if he'd go on to jail, dey'd give 'im a fair +trial. + +"'Well, Mr. McClendon were shot down 'side Miss Cornelia. I seen him +when he fell on his face. De man dat fired de gun turn him over an' say, +"Well, us got' im." Miss Cornelia run on to de jail where de bounce[FN: +balance] o' de fam'ly were. + +"'Dem outside say, "Boys, it'll never do! Dey aint all in dere yet. +Let's sen' to Scooba an' git Charlie Rosenbaum an' John Gilmore to come +help dey frien's. Dey b'longs to dat Chisolm crowd an' we want dem, +too." + +"'So dey come. Somebody say, "Let's commence right here." I never seen a +battle b'fore, but I sho' seen one den. It were lak dis: Mr. Cal Hull +was de only democratic white frien' Mr. Rosenbaum had. He stood' twixt +his white democratic frien's an' Mr. Rosenbaum. He put his arms over Mr. +Rosenbaum an' say, "Boys, he's a frien' o' mine. If you kill him, you +kill me." Mr. Rosenbaum crawled over to de courthouse wall, an' squatted +down, an' stayed dere. Mr. Hull stood over 'im, pertectin' 'im. But Mr. +John Gilmore make for de jail an', when dey open de door for 'im, de +shootin' start. Right den were when Mr. Gilmore got his. Miss Cornelia +were struck in de wris'. It mortified an' after 'while she died from +it.' + +"I know I aint tol' de sho' 'nough reason Mr. John Gully got killed. +Maybe de time done come for de truf to be tol'. Hope won't nobody think +hard o' me for tellin': + +"Mr. John Gully had a bar-room an' a clerk. A white man by de name o' +Bob Dabbs walked[FN: clerked] b'hin' dat counter. Dis Nigger, Walter +Riley, I was a-tellin' you 'bout awhile ago, were a-courtin' a +yaller[FN: yellow] woman. (Dey warnt so many of 'em in dem days.) Mr. +Dabbs say, "Walter, if I ever kotch[FN: catch] you walkin wid (he called +dat yaller woman's name) I'll give you de worst beatin' ever was." +Walter were kotch wid 'er ag'in. Dat Frid'y night he come a-struttin' +into de bar-room. Mr. Dabbs say, "Come he'p move dese boxes here in de +nex' room." Walter walked in lak a Nigger will when you ask 'im to do +somethin', an' Mr. Dabbs turnt de key. "Git 'crost dat goods box," he +say. "I'll give you what I promised you." Mr. Dabbs got 'im a piece o' +plank an' burnt Walter up. + +"All dis here were a-goin' on 'bout de time Niggers were a-votin' an' +doin' things 'roun' white folks. Dey thought dey were pertected by de +Chisolm crowd. + +"De nex' Frid'y night Walter walked right into dat bar-room ag'in. Mr. +Dabbs say, "What you doin' here, Nigger?" Walter say, "You 'member what +you done to me tonight one week?" An' he say, "Well, what's to it?" Den +Walter say, "Well, I come to settle wid you." Mr. Dabbs say, "Let me see +if I can't hurry you up some," an' he retch[FN: reached] his han' back +his han' to his hip. But 'fore he could draw[FN: draw his gun] out, +Walter done run back to de door. Dey were a chinaberry tree close to de +door an' Walter got b'hin' it an' fired a pistol. Mr. Dabbs were hit wid +his arm a-layin' 'crost de counter wid his pistol in his han'. + +"'Me an' Mr. Ed ('cause he were de jailor), we put him on a mattress in +de room back o' de bar. An' he died dat night. De word jus' kinda got' +roun' dat some of de Chisolm crowd done killed Mr. Gully's clerk. + +"'Walter run off to Memphis. Mr. Gully were pursuin' after 'im to ketch +'im. Walter sho' got tired of him pursuin' after 'im. Dat were de +evidence Walter give out 'fore dey put de rope on his neck an' start him +on his way to de gallows, but twant nobody dere to put it down jus' lak +it were. + +"'Mr. Sinclair were sheriff by dis time, an' my young marster an' me +went wid 'im to git Walter to take 'im to de gallows. Mr. Sinclair say, +"Ed, you goin' to de jail-house now? Here's a ha'f pint o' whiskey. Give +it to Walter, make 'im happy, den if he talk too much, nobody will +b'lieve it." Mr. Ed say, "Come on, Sambo, go wid me." He retched down +an' got a han'ful o' goobers an' put 'em in his pocket. We were eatin' +'em on de way down to de jail-house. He say, "Walter, Mr. Sinclair done +sent you a dram." Walter say, "Mr. McAllum, I see you an' Sam eatin' +peanuts comin' along. Jus' you give me a han'ful an' I'll eat dem on de +way to de gallows. I don't want no whiskey." + +"'Den us got on de wagon. (I can see Walter now, standin' dere wid his +cap on de back o' his head ready to pull down over his eyes after he +git dere.) Dey were a pow'ful crowd 'roun' dat wagon. + +"'Den come a rider from Scooba, pull a paper from his pocket, an' han' +it to Mr. Sinclair. He read it an' say," Let de people go on to de +gallows. De wagon turn 'roun' an' go back to de jail." De Gov'nor had +stopped de hangin' 'til de case were 'vestigated. (De people standin' +dere a-waitin' for Walter to be hung didn' know what were de matter.) + +"'Dey placed Walter back in jail an' his coffin 'long wid' im. De +lawyers would visit 'im to git his testimony. Dey'd show 'im his coffin +all ready an' ask him did he do dis killin' or not. Dey want 'im to say +he were hired to do it. Dey fixed it all up. Twant nobody to tell jus' +how it were.' + +"I were married by dis time to Laura. She were de nurse maid to Mr. J.H. +Currie. She's been dead twenty years, now. When de Curries come to +Meridian to live, dey give me charge o' dey plantation. I were de leader +an' stayed an' worked de plantation for' em. Dey been livin' in Meridian +twelve years. I's married now to dey cook. + +"Mr. Hector tol' me if I'd come an' live wid' em here, he'd gimme dis +house here in de back yard an' paint it an' fix it all up lak you see +it. It's mighty pleasant in de shade. Folks used to always set dey +houses in a grove, but now dey cuts down more trees dan dey keeps. Us +don't cut no trees. Us porches is always nice an' shady. + +"I'se got fo' boys livin'. One son were in de big strike in de +automobile plant in Detroit an' couldn' come to see me las' Chris'mus. +He'll come to see me nex' year if I's still here. + +"Maybe folks goin' a-think hard o' me for tellin' what aint never been +tol' b'fore. I been asked to tell what I seen an' I done it. + +"Dat's tellin' what I never thought to tell." + + + + +Charlie Moses, Ex-slave, Lincoln County +FEC +Esther de Sola +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +CHARLIE MOSES +Brookhaven, Mississippi + + +Charlie Moses, 84 year old ex-slave, lives at Brookhaven. He possesses +the eloquence and the abundant vocabulary of all Negro preachers. He is +now confined to his bed because of the many ailments of old age. His +weight appears to be about 140 pounds, height 6 feet 1 inch high. + +"When I gits to thinkin' back on them slavery days I feels like risin' +out o' this here bed an' tellin' ever'body 'bout the harsh treatment us +colored folks was given when we was owned by poor quality folks. + +"My marster was mean an' cruel. I hates him, hates him! The God Almighty +has condemned him to eternal fiah. Of that I is certain. Even the cows +and horses on his plantation was scared out o' their minds when he come +near 'em. Oh Lordy! I can tell you plenty 'bout the things he done to us +poor Niggers. We was treated no better than one o' his houn' dogs. +Sometimes he didn' treat us as good as he did them. I prays to the Lord +not to let me see him when I die. He had the devil in his heart. + +"His name was Jim Rankin an' he lived out on a plantation over in Marion +County. I was born an' raised on his place. I spec I was 'bout twelve +year old at the time o' the war. + +"Old man Rankin worked us like animals. He had a right smart plantation +an' kep' all his Niggers, 'cept one house boy, out in the fiel' +a-workin'. He'd say, 'Niggers is meant to work. That's what I paid my +good money for 'em to do.' + +"He had two daughters an' two sons. Them an' his poor wife had all the +work in the house to do, 'cause he wouldn' waste no Nigger to help 'em +out. His family was as scared o' him as we was. They lived all their +lives under his whip. No Sir! No Sir! There warnt no meaner man in the +world than old man Jim Rankin. + +"My pappy was Allen Rankin an' my mammy was Ca'line. There was twelve o' +us chillun, nine boys an' three girls. My pa was born in Mississippi an' +sol' to Marster Rankin when he was a young man. My mammy was married in +South Carolina an' sol' to Marster Rankin over at Columbia. She had to +leave her family. But she warnt long in gittin' her another man. + +"Oh Lordy! The way us Niggers was treated was awful. Marster would beat, +knock, kick, kill. He done ever'thing he could 'cept eat us. We was +worked to death. We worked all Sunday, all day, all night. He whipped us +'til some jus' lay down to die. It was a poor life. I knows it aint +right to have hate in the heart, but, God Almighty! It's hard to be +forgivin' when I think of old man Rankin. + +"If one o' his Niggers done something to displease him, which was mos' +ever' day, he'd whip him' til he'd mos' die an' then he'd kick him 'roun +in the dust. He'd even take his gun an', before the Nigger had time to +open his mouth, he'd jus' stan' there an' shoot him down. + +"We'd git up at dawn to go to the fiel's. We'd take our pails o' grub +with us an' hang' em up in a row by the fence. We had meal an' pork an' +beef an' greens to eat. That was mos'ly what we had. Many a time when +noontime come an' we'd go to eat our vittals the marster would come +a-walkin' through the fiel with ten or twelve o' his houn' dogs. If he +looked in the pails an' was displeased with what he seen in 'em, he took +'em an' dumped 'em out before our very eyes an' let the dogs grab it up. +We didn' git nothin' to eat then 'til we come home late in the evenin'. +After he left we'd pick up pieces of the grub that the dogs left an' eat +'em. Hongry--hongry--we was so hongry. + +"We had our separate cabins an' at sunset all of us would go in an' shut +the door an' pray the Lord Marster Jim didn' call us out. + +"We never had much clothes 'ceptin' what was give us by the marster or +the mistis. Winter time we never had 'nough to wear nor 'nough to eat. +We wore homespun all the time. The marster didn' think we needed +anything, but jus' a little. + +"We didn' go to church, but Sundays we'd gather 'roun' an' listen to the +mistis read a little out o' the Bible. The marster said we didn' need no +religion an' he finally stopped her from readin' to us. + +"When the war come Marster was a captain of a regiment. He went away an' +stayed a year. When he come back he was even meaner than before. + +"When he come home from the war he stayed for two weeks. The night +'fore he was a-fixin' to leave to go back he come out on his front porch +to smoke his pipe. He was a-standin' leanin' up ag'in' a railin' when +somebody sneaked up in the darkness an' shot him three times. Oh my +Lord! He died the nex' mornin'. He never knowed who done it. I was glad +they shot him down. + +"Sometimes the cavalry would come an' stay at the house an' the mistis +would have to 'tend to 'em an' see that they got plenty to eat an' fresh +horses. + +"I never seen no fightin'. I stayed on the plantation 'til the war was +over. I didn' see none o' the fightin'. + +"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout Jefferson Davis. Lincoln was the man that +set us free. He was a big general in the war. + +"I 'member a song we sung, then. It went kinda like this: + + 'Free at las', + Free at las', + Thank God Almighty + I's free at las'. + Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm.' + +"I only seen the Klu Klux Klan onct. They was a-paradin' the streets +here in Brookhaven. They had a Nigger that they was a-goin' to tar an' +feather. + +"When the mistis tol' us we was free (my pappy was already dead, then) +my mammy packed us chillun up to move. We travelled on a cotton wagon to +Covington, Louisiana. We all worked on a farm there 'bout a year. Then +all 'cept me moved to Mandeville, Louisiana an' worked on a farm there. +I hired out to Mr. Charlie Duson, a baker. Then we moved to a farm above +Baton Rouge, Louisiana an' worked for Mr. Abe Manning. We jus' +travelled all over from one place to another. + +"Then I got a letter from a frien' o' mine in Gainesville, Mississippi. +He had a job for me on a boat, haulin' lumber up the coast to Bay St. +Louis, Pass Christian, Long Beach, Gulfport, an' all them coast towns. I +worked out o' Gainesville on this boat for 'bout two year. I lost track +o' my family then an' never seen 'em no more. + +"In the year 1870 I got the call from the Lord to go out an' preach. I +left Gainesville an' travelled to Summit, Mississippi where another +frien' o' mine lived. I preached the words of the Lord an' travelled +from one place to another. + +"In 1873 I got married an' decided to settle in Brookhaven. I preached +an' all my flock believed in me. I bought up this house an' the two on +each side of it. Here I raised seven chillun in the way o' the Lord. +They is all in different parts of the country now, but I sees one of 'em +ever' now an' then. Las' April the Lord seen fit to put me a-bed an' I +been ailin' with misery ever since. + +"The young folks now-a-days are happy an' don't know' bout war an' +slavery times, but I does. They don't know nothin' an' don't make the +mark in the worl' that the old folks did. Old people made the first +roads in Mississippi. The Niggers today wouldn' know how to act on a +plantation. But they are happy. We was miserable. + +"Slavery days was bitter an' I can't forgit the sufferin'. Oh, God! I +hates 'em, hates 'em. God Almighty never meant for human beings to be +like animals. Us Niggers has a soul an' a heart an' a _min'_. We aint +like a dog or a horse. If all marsters had been good like some, the +slaves would all a-been happy. But marstars like mine ought never been +allowed to own Niggers. + +"I didn' spec nothin' out of freedom 'ceptin' peace an' happiness an' +the right to go my way as I pleased. I prays to the Lord for us to be +free, always. + +"That's the way God Almighty wants it." + + + + +Henri Necaise, Ex-Slave, Pearl River County +FEC +Mrs. C.E. Wells +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +HENRI NECAISE +Nicholson, Mississippi + + +Henri Necaise, ex-slave, 105 years old, lives a half-mile south of +Nicholson on US 11. Uncle Henri lives in a small plank cabin enclosed by +a fence. He owns his cabin and a small piece of land. He is about five +feet ten inches tall and weighs 120 pounds. His sight and hearing are +very good. + +"I was born in Harrison County, 19 miles from Pass Christian, 'long de +ridge road from de swamp near Wolf River. My Marster was Ursan Ladnier. +De Mistis' name was Popone. Us was all French. My father was a white +man, Anatole Necaise. I knowed he was my father, 'cause he used to call +me to him an' tell me I was his oldes' son. + +"I never knowed my mother. I was a slave an' my mother was sol' from me +an' her other chilluns. Dey tol' me when dey sol' 'er my sister was +a-holdin' me in her arms. She was standin' behin' da Big House peekin' +'roun' de corner an' seen de las' of her mother. I seen her go, too. Dey +tell me I used to go to de gate a-huntin' for my mammy. I used to sleep +wid my sister after dat. + +"Jus' lemme study a little, an' I'll tell you 'bout de Big House. It +was 'bout 60 feet long, built o' hewed logs, in two parts. De floors was +made o' clay dey didn' have lumber for floors den. Us lived right close +to de Big House in a cabin. To tell de truf, de fac' o' de business is, +my Marster took care o' me better'n I can take care o' myse'f now. + +"When us was slaves Marster tell us what to do. He say, 'Henri, do dis, +do dat.' An' us done it. Den us didn' have to think whar de nex' meal +comin' from, or de nex' pair o' shoes or pants. De grub an' clo'es give +us was better'n I ever gits now. + +"Lemme think an' counts. My Marster didn' have a lot o' slaves. Dere was +one, two, three, fo', yes'm, jus' fo' o' us slaves. I was de +stockholder. I tended de sheep an' cows an' such lak. My Marster didn' +raise no big crops, jus' corn an' garden stuff. He had a heap o' cattle. +Dey could run out in de big woods den, an' so could de sheeps. He sol' +cattle to N'awlins[FN: New Orleans] an' Mobile, where he could git de +bes' price. Dat's de way folks does now, aint it? Dey sells wherever dey +can git de mos' money. + +"Dey didn' give me money, but, you see, I was a slave. Dey sho' give me +ever'thing else I need, clo'es an' shoes. I always had a-plenty t'eat, +better'n I can git now. I was better off when I was a slave dan I is +now, 'cause I had ever'thing furnished me den. Now I got to do it all +myse'f. + +"My Marster was a Catholic. One thing I can thank dem godly white folks +for, dey raise' me right. Dey taught me out o' God's word, 'Our Father +which art in Heaven.' Ever'body ought-a know dat prayer." + +(Note. In this Wolf River territory in Harrison County, where Uncle +Henri was born and raised, all the settlers were French Catholics, and +it was the scene of early Catholic missions.) + +"I was rais' a Catholic, but when I come here twant no church an' I +joined de Baptis' an' was baptised. Now de white folks lemme go to dey +church. Dey aint no cullud church near 'nough so's I can go. I spec' its +all right. I figgers dat God is ever'where. + +"My Mistis knowed how to read an' write. I don' know 'bout de Marster. +He could keep sto' anyway. Us all spoke French in dem days. I near 'bout +forgit all de songs us used to sing. Dey was all in French anyway, an' +when you don' speak no French for 'bout 60 years, you jus' forgit it. + +"I'se knowed slaves to run away, an' I'se seen 'em whupped. I seen good +marsters an' mean ones. Dey was good slaves an' mean ones. But to tell +de truf, if dey tol' a slave to do anything, den he jus' better do it. + +"I was big' nough in de Civil War to drive five yoke o' steers to Mobile +an' git grub to feed de wimmins an' chilluns. Some o' de mens was +a-fightin' an' some was a-runnin' an' hidin'. I was a slave an' I had to +do what dey tol' me. I carried grub into de swamp to men, but I never +knowed what dey was a-hidin' from." + +(This may be explained by the fact that Uncle Henri was owned by and +lived in a settlement of French People, many of whom probably had no +convictions or feeling of loyalty, one way or the other, during the War +Between the States.) + +"My old Marster had fo' sons, an' de younges' one went to de war an' was +killed. + +"De Yankees come to Pass Christian, I was dere, an' seen 'em. Dey come +up de river an' tore up things as dey went along. + +"I was 31 years old when I was set free. My Marster didn' tell us' bout +bein' free. De way I foun' it out, he started to whup me once an' de +young Marster up an' says, 'You aint got no right to whup him now, he's +free.' Den Marster turnt me loose. + +"It was dem Carpetbaggers dat 'stroyed de country. Dey went an' turned +us loose, jus' lak a passel o' cattle, an' didn' show us nothin' or giv' +us nothin'. Dey was acres an' acres o' lan' not in use, an' lots o' +timber in dis country. Dey should-a give each one o' us a little farm +an' let us git out timber an' build houses. Dey ought to put a white +Marster over us, to show us an' make us work, only let us be free 'stead +o' slaves. I think dat would-a been better 'n turnin' us loose lak dey +done. + +"I lef' my Marster an' went over to de Jordon River, an' dere I stayed +an' worked. I saved my money an' dat giv' me a start. I never touched +it' til de year was winded up. To tell da truf, de fac's o' de matter +is, it was my Marstars kinfolks I was workin' for. + +"I bought me a schooner wid dat money an' carried charcoal to N'awlins. +I done dis for 'bout two years an' den I los' my schooner in a storm off +o' Bay St. Louis. + +"After I los' my schooner, I come here an' got married. Dis was in 1875 +an' I was 43 years old. Dat was my firs' time to marry. I'se got dat +same wife today. She was born a slave, too. I didn' have no chillun, but +my wife did. She had one gal-chil'. She lives at Westonia an' is de +mammy o' ten chillun. She done better'n us done. I'se got a lot o' +gran'-chillun. What does you call de nex' den? Lemme see, great +gran'-chillun, dat's it. + +"I never did b'lieve in no ghos' an' hoodoos an' charms. + +"I never did look for to git nothin' after I was free. I had dat in my +head to git me 80 acres o' lan' an' homestead it. As for de gov'ment +making me a present o' anything, I never thought 'bout it. But jus' now +I needs it. + +"I did git me dis little farm, 40 acres, but I bought it an' paid for it +myse'f. I got de money by workin' for it. When I come to dis country I +dug wells an' built chimneys on' houses. (Once I dug a well 27 feet an' +come to a coal bed. I went through de coal an' foun' water. Dat was on +de Jordon River.) Dat clay chimney an' dis here house has been built 52 +years. I's still livin' in' em. Dey's mine. One acre, I giv' to de Lawd +for a graveyard an' a churchhouse. I wants to be buried dere myse'f. + +"A white lady paid my taxes dis year. I raises a garden an' gits de Old +Age 'Sistance. It aint 'nough to buy grub an' clo'es for me an' de old +woman an' pay taxes, so us jus' has to git 'long de bes' us can wid de +white folks he'p. + +"It aint none o' my business' bout whether de Niggers is better off free +dan slaves. I dont know 'cept 'bout me, I was better off den. I did earn +money after I was free, but after all, you know _money is de root o' all +evil_. Dat what de Good Book say. When I was a slave I only had to obey +my Marster an' he furnish me ever'thing. Once in a while he would whup +me, but what was dat? You can't raise nary chile, white or black, widout +chastisin'. De law didn' low dem to dominize over us, an' dey didn' try. + +"I's gittin' mighty old now, but I used to be pretty spry. I used to go +60 miles out on de Gulf o' Mexico, as 'terpreter on dem big ships dat +come from France. Dat was 'fore I done forgot my French talk what I was +raised to speak. + +"De white folks is mighty good to me. De riches' man in Picayune, he +recognizes me an' gives me two bits or fo' bits. I sho' has plenty o' +good frien's. If I gits out o' grub, I catches me a ride to town, an' I +comes back wid de grub. + +"De good Lawd, he don't forgit me." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[REV. JAMES SINGLETON +Simpson, Mississippi] + + +"My name's James Singleton. I'se a Baptist preacher. I was born in 1856, +but I doan know zactly what date. My mammy was Harr'et Thompson. Her +marster was Marse Daniel Thompson over in Simpson County on Strong River +at a place called Westville. My pappy, he come from South +Ca'lina--Charleston--an' was give to do old folks' darter. His name was +John Black an' he was owned by Mr. Frank Smith over in Simpson. He was +brought down frum South Ca'lina in a wagon 'long wid lots mo'. + +"Me, I was sol' to Marse Harrison Hogg over in Simpson when I was 'bout +six years old, and Marse Hogg, he turn right 'roun', and sol' me an' +sister Harr'et an' brother John nex' day for fo' thousan'. Two thousan' +fo' John, 'cause he's older an' bigger, an' a thousan' fo' Harr'et an' +me. Miss Annie an' Marse Elbert Bell bought us. + +"Marse Elbert had three mo' sides us--makin' six. Us slep' on pallets on +de flo', an' all lived in one long room made out of logs, an' had a dirt +flo' an' dirt chimbly. There was a big old iron pot hangin' over de +hearth, an' us had 'possum, greens, taters, and de lak cooked in it. Had +coon sometimes, too. + +"Marse Elbert, he lived in jes a plain wood house made Califo'nia style, +wid a front room an' a shed room where de boys slep'. Dey had two boys, +Jettie an' William. + +"I reckin dere was 'bout a hun'erd an' sixty acres planted in taters an' +corn, an' dey made whiskey too. Yessum, dey had a 'stillery[FN: +distillery] hid down in de woods where dey made it. + +"My mammy an' pappy was fiel' han's, an' I was mighty little to do so +much. I jes minded de cow pen, made fires in de Big House, an' swep' de +house. When I made de fires, iffen dere wa'nt any live coale lef', we +had to use a flint rock to git it sta'ted. + +"Dere was a bell ringin' every mornin' 'bout fo' 'clock, fer to call de +slaves tar git up an' go to de fiel's. Day wuked 'til sundown. Dey was +fed in de white folks' kitchen, and Cook cooked fer us jes lak she done +fer de whites. De kitchen was built off a piece frum de hous', y'know. + +"Marse never did whup any of us li'l chullun. Miss Annie, she tried once +to whup me 'cause I chunked rocks at her li'l chickens, but mighty +little whuppin' she done. Dere wa'nt no overseer. + +"Chris'mas time, we had two or three days to play, an' had extry food. + +"I seen 'pattyrollers' ridin' 'bout to keep de darkies from runnin' +'roun' widout passes. I never seen 'em whup none but dey tol' us we'd +git twen'y-nine licks iffen we got caught by 'em. I seen darkies git +whuppin's on other plantations--whup 'em half a day sometimes, gen'ly +when dey tried to run away. + +"We didn' have no dancin' dat I 'member, but had plen'y log rollin's. +Had fiddlin', an' all would jine in singin' songs, lak, "Run nigger run, +pattyrollers ketch you, run nigger run, it's breakin' days." I still +fiddle dat chune[FN: tune]. Well, you see, dey jes rolled up all de old +dead logs an' trees in a big pile, and burned it at night. + +"I seen de Yankee sojers when dey passed our house but dey didn' bother +us none. None didn' even stop in. Dey was wearin' blue jackets an' had +gold buttons on caps an' jackets. But when de Confed'rate sojers come +along, dey stopped an' killed a fat cow er two, an' taken de fat hoss +an' lef' a lean one, an' taken ever'thing else dey seen dey wanted. + +"No'm, didn' none of de slaves run off wid dem dat I knows of, an' de +Yankees didn' try to bother us none. Well, afte' de War, Marse Elbert +tol' us dat we was free now, an' pappy come an' got us an' taken us to +live wid de cook on Mr. Elisha Bishop's place, an' he paid Mr. Barren +Bishop to teach us. He taught us out of Webster's Blue Back Spellin' +Book. + +"My pappy, he had a stolen ejucation--'at was cause his mistress back in +South Ca'Line hoped him to learn to read an' write 'fo he lef' there. +You see, in dem days, it was ag'inst de law fer slaves to read. + +"I was glad to be free 'cause I don't b'lieve sellin' an' whuppin' +peoples is right. I certainly does think religion is a good thing, +'cause I'se a Baptist preacher right now, and I live 'bout six miles +from Crystal Springs. I farm too." + + + + +Berry Smith, Ex-slave, Scott County +FEC +W.B. Allison +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +BERRY SMITH +Forest, Mississippi + + +"Uncle Berry" Smith is five feet two or three inches tall. He is +scrupulously neat. He is very independent for his age, which is +calculated at one hundred and sixteen years. He believes the figure to +be correct. His mind is amazingly clear. + +"I was born an' bred in Sumpter County, Alabama, in de prairie lan', six +miles from Gainesville. Dat's where I hauled cotton. It was close to +Livingston, Alabama, where we lived. + +"I was twelve years old when de stars fell. Dey fell late in de night +an' dey lighted up de whole earth. All de chaps was a-runnin' 'roun' +grabbin' for 'em, but none of us ever kotched[FN: caught] one. It's a +wonder some of' em didn' hit us, but dey didn'. Dey never hit de groun' +atall. + +"When dey runned de Injuns out de country, me an' another chap kotched +one o' dem Injun's ponies an hung him up[FN: tied him up] in de grape +vines. He said it was his pony an' I said it was mine. + +"Marse Bob's boy tol' us his daddy was gwine a-whup us for stealin' dat +pony, so we hid out in de cane for two nights. Marse Bob an' his brother +whupped us' til we didn' want to see no more Injuns or dey ponies, +neither. + +"I was born a slave to Old Marse Jim Harper an' I fell to Marse Bob. +Marse Jim bought my pa an' ma from a man by de name o' Smith, an' Pa +kep' de name. Dat's how come I is Berry Smith. + +"Dey didn' have no schools for us an' didn' teach us nothin' but work. +De bull-whip an' de paddle was all de teachin' we got. De white +preachers used to preach to de Niggers sometimes in de white folks' +church, but I didn' go much. + +"We had fun in dem days in spite o' ever'thing. De pranks we used to +play on dem paterollers! Sometimes we tied ropes 'crost de bridge an' de +paterollers'd hit it an' go in de creek. Maybe we'd be fiddlin' an' +dancin' on de bridge (dat was de grown folks, but de chaps 'ud come, +too) an' dey'd say, 'Here come de paterollers!' Den we'd put out. If we +could git to de marster's house, we was all right. Marse Bob wouldn' let +no pateroller come on his place. Marse Alf wouldn', neither. Dey said it +was all right if we could git home widout bein' kotched, but we have to +take dat chance. + +"At de Big House dey had spinnin' wheels an' a loom. Dey made all de +clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun was what dey called de goods. +My ma used to spin an' weave in de loom room at de Big House. + +"Dey was two plantations in de marster's lan' an' dey worked a heap o' +Niggers. I was a house boy an' didn' go to de fiel' much. + +"We had overseers on de place, but dey was jus' hired men. Dey was po' +white folks an' only got paid 'bout three or fo' hund'ed dollars a year. + +"When we lef' Alabama we come to Mississippi. We went to de Denham +place near Garlandsville. We brought eighteen Niggers. We walked a +hund'ed miles an' it took five days an' nights. De women an' little +chaps rid[FN: rode] on de wagons (dey had five mules to de wagon) an' de +men an' de big chaps walked. My pa an' ma come along. + +"We stayed on de Denham place 'bout three years. Den we moved to +Homewood an' stayed five years. I hung de boards for Marse Bob's house +in Homewood. + +"Den we come to Forest. Dey brought all de fam'ly over here--all my +brothers an' sisters. Dey was five of' em--Wash an' East is de two I +'members. All o' us b'longed to de Harper fam'ly. Marse Bob owned us. My +ma an' pa both died here in Forest. + +"I he'ped to build dis house for Marse Bob. I cleaned de lan' an' lef de +trees where he tol' me. He lived in a little old shack whilst we built +de Big House. + +"Mr. M.D. Graham put up de firs' store here an' de secon' was put up by +my marster. + +"I worked in de fiel' some, but mos'ly I was a house servant. I used to +go all over de country a-huntin' eggs an' chickens for de fam'ly on' +count dey was so much comp'ny at de house. + +"A heap o' white folks was good to dey Niggers, jus' as good as dey +could be, but a heap of' em was mean, too. My mistis was good to us an' +so was Marse Jim Harper. He wouldn' let de boys 'buse us while he lived, +but when he died dey was wild an' cruel. Dey was hard taskmasters. We +was fed good three times a day, but we was whupped too much. Dat got +me. I couldn' stan' it. De old marster give us good dinners at +Chris'mus, but de young ones stopped all dat. + +"De firs' train I ever seen was in Brandon. I went dere to carry some +horses for my marster. It sho' was a fine lookin' engine. I was lookin' +at it out of a upstairs window an' when it whistled I'd a-jumped out dat +window if Captain Harper hadn' a-grabbed me. + +"I didn' see no fightin' in de war. When Gen'l Sherman come th'ough +here, he come by Hillsboro. Marse Bob didn' go to de war. He 'listed[FN: +enlisted], but he come right back an' went to gittin' out cross ties for +de railroad. He warnt no sojer. Colonel Harper, dat was Marse Alf, _he_ +was de sojer. He warnt scared o' nothin' or nobody. + +"De Yankees ask me to go to de war, but I tol' 'em, 'I aint no rabbit to +live in de woods. My marster gives me three good meals a day an' a good +house an' I aint a-goin'.' Marse Bob used to feed us fine an' he was +good to us. He wouldn' let no overseer touch his Niggers, but he whupped +us, hisse'f. + +"Den de Yankees tol' me I was free, same as dey was. I come an' tol' +Marse Bob I was a-goin'. He say, 'If you don't go to work, Nigger, you +gwine a-git whupped.' So I run away an' hid out in de woods. De nex' day +I went to Meridian. I cooked for de sojers two months, den I come back +to Forest an' worked spikin' ties for de railroad. + +"I hear'd a heap of talk 'bout Jeff Davis an' Abe Lincoln, but didn' +know nothin' 'bout 'em. We hear'd 'bout de Yankees fightin' to free us, +but we didn' b'lieve it 'til we hear'd 'bout de fightin' at Vicksburg. + +"I voted de 'publican ticket after de surrender, but I didn' bother wid +no politics. I didn' want none of 'em. + +"De Kloo Kluxers[FN: Ku Klux's] was bad up above here, but I never seen +any. I hear'd tell of 'em whuppin' folks, but I don't know nothin' 'bout +it, much. + +"Mos' all de Niggers dat had good owners stayed wid 'em, but de others +lef'. Some of 'em come back an' some didn'. + +"I hear'd a heap o' talk 'bout ever' Nigger gittin forty acres an' a +mule. Dey had us fooled up 'bout it, but I never seen nobody git +nothin'. + +"I hope dey won't be no more war in my time. Dat one was turrible. Dey +can all go dat wants to, but I aint a-goin'. + +"I seen Gen'l Grant at Vicksburg after de war. (He was a little short +man.) All de Niggers went dere for somethin'--me 'mongst 'em. I don't +know what we went for. + +"I took to steamboatin' at Vicksburg 'cause I could cut[FN: place for +storage or shipment] cotton so good. (I could cut cotton now wid a +cotton hook if I warnt so old.) + +"I steamboated twixt New Orleans an' St. Louis on de 'Commonwealth,' a +freight packet, way up yonder in St. Louis. I don't know what country +dat was in. But de rousters had a big fight one night in New Orleans, +shootin' an' cuttin', so I lef'. When I got back to Vicksburg, I quit. + +"I picked cotton in de Delta awhile, but de folks, white an' black, is +too hard. Dey don't care 'bout nothin! I was in Greenville when de +water come. I hear'd a noise like de wind an' I asked dem Niggers, 'Is +dat a storm?' Dey said, 'No, dat's de river comin' th'ough an' you +better come back 'fore de water ketch[FN: catch] you.' I say, 'If it +ketch me it gwine a-ketch me on my way home.' I aint been back since. + +"Den I come back here an' went to farmin' an' I been here ever since. I +bought forty-seven acres an' a nice little house. De house burnt down, +but de white folks built me a better one. Dey's good an' kin' to me. Dey +say I's a good man. + +"My wife was six year old at de surrender. She b'longed to Marse Alf, +but we was free when we married. We had sixteen chillun. Mos' of 'em +lives 'roun 'here. Some in Newton, some in Scott, an' some in Texas. My +wife died two years ago las' March. + +"Marse Bob died right here in dis here house. He died a po' man. If my +old mistis had a-been here she wouldn' a-let' em treat him like dey +done. If I'd a-been here I wouldn' a-let' em done like dat, neither. + +"I been a-livin' by myse'f since my wife died. My son, Oscar, lives on +de lan' an' rents it from me. + +"I don't know what's gwine a-happen to de young folks now-a-days. Dey +know better, but dey's wild an' don't care 'bout nothin'. I aint got no +time to fool wid 'em. Looks like dey don't care 'bout workin' at +nothin'. + +"I been a-workin' all my life, an' I'se seen good times an' bad times. I +loves to work yet. I's gwine out now soon's I git my dinner an' he'p +finish pickin' dat patch o' cotton. I can pick two hund'ed pounds a day +an' I's one hund'ed an' sixteen year old. I picks wid both han's an' +don't have to stoop much. My back don't never ache me atall. My mammy +teached me to pick cotton. She took a pole to me if I didn' do it right. +I been a-pickin ever since. I'd ruther pick cotton dan eat, any day. + +"But I'se seen enough. I's jus' a-waitin' for de call to meet all my +folks in Heaven. Dey's a better place dan dis an' I's a-tryin' to treat +ever'body right so's I can git to go to it. + +"I's listenin' hard for dat call an' I know it won't be long a-comin'." + + + + +Susan Snow, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County +FEC +W.B. Allison +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +SUSAN SNOW +Meridian, Mississippi + + +"Aunt Sue" Snow, a rather small and profusely wrinkled 87-year-old +ex-slave, lives in the Negro quarters of the South Side in Meridian. + +In spite of her wild escapades, her reputation for honesty and +reliability is high and she carries and exhibits with pride numerous +letters attesting that fact. + +She often finds it necessary to stand and act the story she is telling. +Her memory is amazing and she turns with equal readiness to copious +quotations from the Scripture and other pious observations to amusing +but wholly unprintable anecdotes of her somewhat lurid past. + +"I was born in Wilcox County, Alabama, in 1850. W.J. Snow was my old +marster. He bought my ma from a man named Jerry Casey. Venus was her +name, but dey mos'ly called her 'Venie.' + +"I's workin' now for one o' my old folks. I can't work much--jus' +carries things to 'er an' such. She's my old mistis' own daughter an' +she's got gran'chillun grown an' married. All de chillun dat's livin' is +older'n me. + +"When her pa bought my mammy, I was a baby. Her pa owned a heap o' +Niggers. I's de only one still hangin' aroun'. + +"My ma was a black African an' she sho' was wild an' mean. She was so +mean to me I couldn' b'lieve she was my mammy. Dey couldn' whup her +widout tyin' her up firs'. Sometimes my marster would wait 'til de nex' +day to git somebody to he'p tie her up, den he'd forgit to whup 'er. Dey +used to say she was a cunger an' dey was all scared of 'er. But my ma +was scared o' cungers, too. + +"All de Niggers on de place was born in de fam'ly an' was kin, 'cept my +ma. She tol' me how dey brought her from Africa. You know, like we say +'President' in dis country, well dey call him 'Chief' in Africa. Seem +like de Chief made 'rangements wid some men an' dey had a big goober +grabbin' for de young folks. Dey stole my ma an' some more an' brung 'em +to dis country. + +"I don't 'member nothin' 'bout havin' no pa. You know, honey, in dem +days husbands an' wives didn' b'long to de same folks. My ma say her +husband was so mean dat after us lef' Alabama she didn' want to marry no +more. + +"A man didn' git to see his wife 'cept twict a week. Dat was Wednesday +an' Satu'd'y night. + +"De women had to walk a chalk line. I never hear'd tell o' wives runnin' +'roun' wid other men in dem days. + +"I was raised in Jasper County. Marster bought lan' from ever'body +'roun' 'til he had a big plantation. He had Niggers, horses, mules, +cows, hogs, an' chickens. He was a rich man, den. + +"Ever' Nigger had a house o' his own. My ma never would have no board +floor like de res' of' em, on' count she was a African--only dirt. (Dey +say she was 108 year old when she died.) + +"Us went to church wid de white folks if us wanted to. Dey didn' make +us. I didn' go much, 'cause I didn' have 'ligion, den. Us didn' have no +schoolin'. Us could go to school wid de white chillun if us wanted to, +but didn' nobody teach us. I's educated, but I aint educated in de +books. I's educated by de licks an' bumps I got. + +"My white folks was good people an' didn' whup nobody, 'less dey needed +it. Some o' de Niggers was sho' 'nough bad. Dey used to take de +marster's horses out at night an' ride 'em down. One Nigger, Sam, got +dat mad at a mule for grabbin' at cotton he cut his tongue out. Course, +Marster whupped him, but when he went to look for 'im 'bout a hour +after, he foun' 'im soun' asleep. Said he ought to kill 'im, but he +didn'. + +"When we was sick dey had a doctor for us jus' like dey done for +deyse'ves. Dey called 'im in to 'scribe for us. I was snake-bit when I +was eight year old. Dey used to be a medicine named 'lobelia.' De doctor +give me dat an' whiskey. My ma carried me up to de Big House ever' +mornin' an' lef' me, an' carried me home at night. Old Mis' 'ud watch +over me in de day time. + +"My young marster tol' me dat when I got to be ten year old, I'd have a +snake coiled up on my liver. Dat scared me mos' to death 'til I was past +ten year old. + +"Dey made all de Niggers' clo'es[FN: clothes] on de place. Homespun, dey +called it. Dey had spinnin' wheels an' cards an' looms at de Big House. +All de women spinned in de winter time. + +"I never knowed what it was to wear more dan one garment, 'til I was +mos' grown. I never had a pair o' shoes o' my own. Old Mis' let me wear +her'n sometimes. Dey had shoes for de old folks, but not for de chillun. + +"I got more whuppin's dan any other Nigger on de place, 'cause I was +mean like my mammy. Always a-fightin' an' scratchin' wid white an' +black. I was so bad Marster made me go look at de Niggers dey hung to +see what dey done to a Nigger dat harm a white man. + +"I's gwine tell dis story on myse'f. De white chillun was a-singin' dis +song: + + 'Jeff Davis, long an' slim, + Whupped old Abe wid a hick'ry limb. + + Jeff Davis is a wise man, Lincoln is a fool, + Jeff Davis rides a gray, an' Lincoln rides a mule.' + +I was mad anyway, so I hopped up an' sung dis one: + + 'Old Gen'l Pope had a shot gun, + Filled it full o' gum, + Killed 'em as dey come. + + Called a Union band, + Make de Rebels un'erstan' + To leave de lan', + Submit to Abraham.' + +"Old Mis' was a-standin' right b'hin' me. She grabbed up de broom an' +laid it on me. She made _me_ submit. I caught de feathers, don't you +forgit it. + +"I didn' know it was wrong. I'd hear'd de Niggers sing it an' I didn' +know dey was a-singin' in dey sleeves. I didn' know nothin' 'bout Abe +Lincoln, but I hear'd he was a-tryin' to free de Niggers an' my mammy +say she want to be free. + +"De young folks used to make up a heap o' songs, den. Dey'd +decompose[FN: compose] dey own songs an' sing' em. I never will forgit +one song dey sung when dey buried anybody. It made Old Marster, Mistis, +an' all of' em cry. Us chillun cried, too. It went like dis: + + 'My mother prayed in de wilderness, + In de wilderness, + In de wilderness. + My mother prayed in de wilderness. + An' den I'm a-goin' home. + + Chorus: + + Den I'm a-goin' home, + Den I'm a-goin' home. + + We'll all make ready, Lawd, + An' den I'm a-goin' home. + + She plead her cause in de wilderness, + In de wilderness, + In de wilderness. + She plead her cause in de wilderness. + An' den I'm a-goin' home.' + + (Repeat chorus) + +"Old Aunt Hannah fell to my marster from his daddy. She had twelve +chillun a-workin' on de place. De oldes' was named Adam an' de littlest +was named Eve. She had two twins what was named Rachel an' Leah. Dey +nussed my mistis' two twins. Dey kep' one a-nussin' mos' all de time. + +"My ma was de cause o' my marster a-firin' all de overseers. (Dey blamed +ever'thing on her 'cause she was de only bought Nigger.) Marster say she +was a valuable Nigger, but she was so mean he was afraid dey'd kill her. +He say, 'She'll work widout no watchin' an' overseers aint nothin', +nohow.' + +"Dey was a white man--I aint lyin'--I know him an' I seen him. He had +Nigger houn's an' he made money a-huntin' runaway Niggers. His own +Niggers kilt 'im. Dey hung 'em for it. Two was his Niggers an' one +b'long to somebody else. + +"My young marster used to work in de fiel' wid us. He'd boss de Niggers. +Dey called 'im Bud, but us all called 'im 'Babe.' Honey, I sho' did love +dat boy. + +"When de war come dey used to tease him an' say, 'Bud, why don't you go +to de war?' Dey laughed an' teased 'im when he went. But twant no +laughin' when he come home on a furlough an' went back. Dey was cryin' +den. An' well dey mought[FN: might] cry, 'cause he never come back no +more'. He was kilt in de war. + +"Endurin' de war, de white folks made dey clo'es same as de Niggers. Old +Mis' made dye an' dyed de thread. She made pretty cloth. + +"My ma was de firs' to leave de plantation after de surrender. All de +other Niggers had a contrac' to stay, but she didn'. She went to Newton +County an' hired out. She never wanted to stay in one place, nohow. If +she had a crop ha'f made an' somebody made her mad, she'd up an' leave +it an' go some'r's else. + +"You know, dey was mighty strict, 'bout den, wid cullud folks, an' white +people, too. De Kloo Kluxes was out nights. I hear'd tell 'bout 'em +whuppin' people. But dey never bothered me. + +"Dey was speakers gwine aroun', tellin' de Niggers what dey was gwine +a-git. Dey never got nothin' to my knowledge, 'cept de gov'ment let 'em +homestead lan'. My ma homesteaded a place close to Enterprise, Scott +County, but she got mad an' lef' it like she always done. + +"She was a-gittin' long in years afore she got 'ligion. (She was good to +me after dat.) She couldn' learn de Lawd's Prayer, but she used to pray, +'Our Father, which are in Heaven; Hallowed be Thy name. Thy mercy, Lawd, +You've showed to others; That mercy show to me. Amen.' She went to res' +in it, too. + +"I went to Enterprise, den to Meridian, nussin' (wet-nussin' when I +could) an' workin' out. I never worked in de fiel', if I could he'p it. +(Old Mis' hired me out as a nuss firs' when I was eight year old.) + +"When I come to Meridian, I cut loose. I's tellin' de truf! I's a woman, +but I's a prodigal. I used to be a old drunkard. My white folks kep' +tellin' me if I got locked up one more time dey wouldn' pay my fine. But +dey done it ag'in an' ag'in. + +"De Niggers called me 'Devil.' I was a devil 'til I got 'ligion. I warnt +baptized 'til 1887. Den I foun' peace. I had a vision. I tol' it to a +white lady an' she say, 'Susie, dat's 'ligion a-callin' you.' (But you +know, honey, white folks' 'ligion aint like Niggers' 'ligion. I know a +woman dat couldn' 'member de Lawd's Prayer, an' she got 'ligion out o' +prayin', 'January, February, March'.) I didn' join de church 'til 1891, +after I had a secon' vision. I's a member in good standin' now. I done +put all my badness b'hin' me, 'cept my temper. I even got dat under more +control. + +"I didn' used to be scared o' cunjers. I's scared now, 'cause I had it +done to me. I want to bed well an' healthy an' de nex' nornin' I couldn' +git up atall. I's tellin de truf. A cullud man done it. He was a +crippled man, an' mean as he could be. I was good to him, too. He tol' +me' bout it, hisse'f: + +"'He went to de graveyard an' got some o' de meanes' dirt he could fin' +(I don't know how he knowed which was de meanes' grave) an' put it under +my doorsill.' He sho' fix' me. I ask him how come he done it to me an' I +been so good to him. He smile kinda tickle-lak an' say, 'It's a good +thing you was good to me, 'cause, if you hadn' a-been you'd a-been dead +an' in yo' grave by now.' + +"I aint got nary soul what's kin to me dat I knows of. I don't want none +of 'em comin' to me now an' a-sayin', 'Don't you 'member yo' own +cousin?' My white folks he'p me when I needs it. + +"Dese young folks. Shucks! Chile, dey's worse'n what I was, only dey's +more slyer. Dat's all. + +"I's glad I'se got 'ligion, 'cause when I dies I's gwine to de 'Good +Place.'" + + + + +Isaac Stier, Ex-slave, Lauderdale County +FEC +Edith Wyatt Moore +Rewrite, Pauline Loveless +Edited, Clara E. Stokes + +ISAAC STIER +Natchez, Mississippi + + +"Miss, my name is Isaac Stier, but folks calls me 'Ike.' I was named by +my pappy's young Marster an' I aint never tol' nobody all o' dat name. +It's got twenty-two letters in it. It's wrote but in de fam'ly Bible. +Dat's how I knows I'll be one hund'ed years old if I lives 'til de turn +o' de year. I was born in Jefferson County 'tween Hamburg an' Union +Church. De plantation joined de Whitney place an' de Montgomery place, +too. I b'longed to Marse Jeems Stowers. I don't rightly 'member how many +acres my Marster owned, but 'twas a big plantation wid eighty or ninety +head o' grown folks workin' it. No tellin' how many little black folks +dey was. + +"My mammy was Ellen Stier an' my pappy was Jordon Stier. He was bought +to dis country by a slave dealer from Nashville, Tennessee. Dey traveled +all de way through de Injun Country on afoot. Dey come on dat Trace +road. Twant nothin' but a Injun Trail. + +"When dey got to Natchez de slaves was put in de pen 'tached to de slave +markets. It stood at de forks o' St. Catherine Street an' de Liberty +road. Here dey was fed an' washed an' rubbed down lak race hosses. Den +dey was dressed up an' put through de paces dat would show off dey +muscles. My pappy was sol' as a twelve year old, but he always said he +was nigher twenty. + +"De firs' man what bought him was a preacher, but he only kep' 'im a +little while. Den he was sol' to Mr. Preacher Robinson. He was a +Methodis'. + +"De slaves was well treated when dey got sick. My Marster had a standin' +doctor what he paid by de year. Dey was a horspital building near de +quarters an' a good old granny woman to nuss de sick. Dey was five or +six beds in a room. One room was for mens an' one for wimmins. Us doctor +was name Richardson an' he tended us long after de war. He sho' was a +gent'man an' a powerful good doctor. + +"Us had a overseer on de place, but he warnt mean lak I'se heard o' +other folks havin'. He was Mr. William Robinson. He was good to +ever'body, both white an' cullud. Folks didn' min' workin' for him, +'cause, he spoke kin'. But dey dassen' sass 'im. He was poor. My pappy +b'longed to his pa, Mr. John Robinson. Dat was a nice fam'ly wid sho' +'nough 'ligion. Whilst dey warnt rich, dey had learnin'. + +"As a little tike I wore long slip-lak shirts. When dey sont me to town +I put on britches an' stuffed de tail o' my slip in 'em so's it pass' +for a shirt. I always lived in de Big House an' played wid de white +chillun. I sorta looked after' em. I carried 'em to school. Den whilst +dey was in school I roamed de woods a-huntin'. Sometimes I'd git a big +bag o' game, mos'ly used to feed de slaves. + +"My mistis was Miss Sarah Stowers an' she teached me how to read. She +teached me how to be mannerly, too. On church days I driv'[FN: drove] de +carriage. I was proud to take my folks to meetin'. I always set in de +back pew an' heard de preachin' de same as dey did. + +"De bes' times I can 'member always come 'roun' de Fourth o' July. Dat +was always de beginnin' o' camp-meetin'. Aint nothin' lak dat in dese +days. + +"Ever'body what had any standin' went. Dey cooked up whole trunks full +o' good things t'eat an' driv' over to de camp groun's. De preacher had +a big pavilion covered wid sweet-gum branches an' carpeted wid sawdust. +Folks had wagons wid hay an' quilts whar de men-folks slep'. De ladies +slep' in little log houses an' dey took dey feather beds wid' em. I +always driv' de carriage for my white folks. Whilst dey was a-worshipin' +I'd slip 'roun' an' tas' out o' dey basket. Ever' day I'd eat 'til I was +ready to bus'. One day I got so sick I thought I'd pop wide open. I +crawled down to de spring an' washed my face in col' water, but I kep' +gittin' worse an' worse. Den somebody called out: 'Captain Stier, yo' +Nigger's a-dyin'!' My marster called de doctor. He sho' was shamed in +public, 'cause, he knowed pos'tive I'd been a-pilferin' in dem baskets. +Dem sho' was good old days. I'd love to live' em over ag'in. + +"Us slaves mos'ly sung hymns an' sa'ms.[TR: footnote indicated but none +found] But I' member one song' bout a frog pond an' one 'bout 'Jump, Mr. +Toad.' I's too wordless to sing 'em now, but dey was funny. Us danced +plenty, too. Some o' de men clogged an' pidgeoned, but when us had +dances dey was real cotillions, lak de white folks had. Dey was always +a fiddler an', on Chris'mus an' other holidays, de slaves was' lowed to' +vite dey sweethearts from other plantations. I use to call out de +figgers: 'Ladies, sasshay, Gents to de lef, now all swing.' Ever'body +lak my calls an' de dancers sho' moved smooth an' pretty. Long after de +war was over de white folks would 'gage me to come' roun' wid de band +an' call de figgers at all de big dances. Dey always paid me well. + +"Old Mis' 'ud let us cook a gran' supper an' Marse 'ud slip us some +likker. Dem suppers was de bes' I ever et. Sometimes dey'd be wil' +turkey, fried fish, hot corn pone, fresh pork ham, baked yams, chitlins, +pop corn, apple pie, pound cake, raisins, an' coffee. Law, Miss! de +folks now-a-days don't know nothin' 'bout good eatin', nowhow. + +"When de big war broke out I sho' stuck by my marster. I fit[FN: fought] +de Yankees same as he did. I went in de battles 'long side o' him an' +both fit under Marse Robert E. Lee. I reckon ever'body has heard 'bout +him. I seen more folks dan anybody could count. Heaps of 'em was all +tore to pieces an' cryin' to God to let 'em die. I toted water to dem in +blue de same as dem in gray. Folks wouldn' b'lieve de truf if I was to +tell all I knows 'bout dem ungodly times. + +"Fore de war I never knowed what it was to go empty. My marster sho' set +a fine table an' fed his people de highes'. De hongriest I ever been was +at de Siege o' Vicksburg. Dat was a time I'd lak to forgit. De folks et +up all de cats an' dogs an' den went to devourin' de mules an' hosses. +Even de wimmin an' little chillun was a-starvin'. Dey stummicks was +stickin' to dey backbones. Us Niggers was sufferin' so us took de +sweaty hoss blankets an' soaked 'em in mudholes where de hosses tromped. +Den us wrung' em out in buckets an' drunk dat dirty water for +pot-likker. It tasted kinda salty an' was strength'nin', lak weak soup. + +"I tell you, dem Yankees took us by starvation. Twant a fair fight. Dey +called it a vict'ry an' bragged 'bout Vicksburg a-fallin', but hongry +folks aint got no fight lef' in 'em. Us folks was starved into +surrenderin'. + +"De slaves spected a heap from freedon dey didn' git. Dey was led to +b'lieve dey would have a easy time--go places widout passes--an have +plenty o' spendin' money. But dey sho' got fooled. Mos' of 'em didn' +fin' deyse'ves no better off. Pussonally, I had a harder time after de +war dan I did endurin' slav'ry. + +"De Yankees passed as us frien's. Dey made big promises, but dey was +poor reliance. Some of' em meant well towards us, but dey was mistol' +'bout a heap o' things. Dey promised us a mule an' forty acres o' lan'. +Us aint seen no mule yet. Us got de lan' all right, but twant no +service. Fac' is, 'twas way over in a territory where nothin' 'ud grow. +I didn' know nothin' 'bout farmin', nowhow, I'd always been a coachman +an' play companion to de white chillun. + +"De war was over in May 1865, but I was captured at Vicksburg an' hel' +in jail 'til I 'greed to take up arms wid de Nawth. I figgered dat was +'bout all I could do, 'cause dey warnt but one war at Vicksburg an' dat +was over. I was all de time hopin' I could slip off an' work my way +back home, but de Yankees didn' turn me loose 'til 1866. + +"Den I worked in a saloon in St. Louis. Dat was 'bout all I knowed to +do. All de time I was a-cravin' to come back to Mississippi. It sho' +suits my tas' better'n anywhere I'se ever been. + +"When I landed back home my white folks welcome me. After awhile I +married a gal what was real smart 'bout farmin' an' chicken raisin'. So +us share-cropped an' raised a fam'ly. Somehow us always scrapped along. +Sometimes it was by de hardes', but us always had plenty t'eat. + +"All de cullud folks what lived to git back home took to de lan' ag'in. +If dey marster was dead dey went to his frien's an' offered to +share-crop. Dey was all plumb sick o' war. Is sho' is ongodly business. +I never will forgit de fearsome sight o' seein' men die 'fore dey time. +War sho' is de debbil's own work. + +"De Klu Klux Klan didn' bother me none. Course, I was feared of' em at +firs', but I soon learnt dat long as I b'haved myse'f an' tended my +business dey warnt after me. Dey sho' disastered dem what meddled wid de +white folks. Nobody but a smart Alec would a-done dat. Only Niggers +huntin' trouble mixed into white folks bus'ness. Onct or twict I seen +Klu Klux's ridin' by, but dey always traveled fas' an' I kep' my +mouf[FN: mouth] shut. + +"After de war my marster come back home. De fences was gone, de cattle +was gone, de money an' de Niggers was gone, too. On top o' all dat de +whole country was over-run an' plumb took over by white trash. It was +cautious times. + +"After awhile, robbers an' low down trash got to wearin' robes an' +pretendin' dey was Klu Klux's. Folks called dem de 'white caps.' Dey was +vicious, an' us was more scared of 'em dan us'd ever been o' de Klan. +When dey got likkered up de debbil sho' was turnt loose. + +"Mr. Jefferson Davis was pretty good' bout some things. But if he hadn' +a-been mulish he could-a 'cepted de proposition Mr. Abe Lincum made 'im. +Den slav'ry would-a lasted always. But he flew into a huff an' swore dat +he'd whip de Yankees wid corn stalks. Dat made Mr. Lincum mad, so he sot +about to free de slaves. + +"Mr. Lincum was a good man, but dey tells me he was poor an' never cut +much figger in his clothes. Dat's why he never did un'erstan' how us +felt' bout us white folks. It takes de quality to un'erstan' such +things. + +"Right now, I loves my marster an' his wife in de grave. Dey raised me +an' showed me kindness all dey lives. I was proud of 'em. At de present +time I's under treatment o' young Dr. Stowers, my marster's gran'chil'. +I trusts him an' he is sho' good to me. + +"I rents a place on Providence Plantation 'bout three miles south o' +Natchez. De trip to Natchez in a rickety old wagon is mos' too much in +de hot weather. My heart's mos' wore out. I can't las' long, 'cause I's +had a heap sposure[FN: exposure]. + +"I's jus' a bag o' bones now, but onct I stood nearly six feet in my +stockings an' weighed 'bout one hundred an' eighty pounds. I was well +muscled, too. Now I's gittin' kinda gray an' gittin' bald at de same +time. Black folks lak me don't hardly ever git bald. + +"I's gittin' real feeble. De doctor say I got a bad heart. Sometimes I +jus' has to set on de curb an' res' myse'f a spell. I gits kinda +windless when I thinks 'bout all I been through. + +"My wife is been dead 'bout seventeen years an' my chillun is so +scattered dat I don't know where dey is. De folks I stays wid is +powerful good to me an' sees after me same as dey was my own. I reckon I +don't need nothin else. + +"Dis generation aint got much sense. Dey's tryin' to git somewheres too +fas'. None of 'em is sat'fied wid plain livin'. Dey wants too much. + +"Nobody needs more dan dey can use, nohow." + + + + +JANE SUTTON +Gulfport, Mississippi + + +Jane Sutton, ex-slave, is 84 years old. She is 5 feet, 6 inches tall and +weighs 130 pounds. She is what the Negroes themselves call a +"brown-skin." + +"I was born in Simpson County, near old Westville, on a big farm what +b'long to Marse Jack Berry. I was 12 years old when de surrender come, +so my ole Mis' say. Her name was 'Mis Ailsey an' all us cullud folks +call her 'Ole Mi's. She an' Old Marster had twelve chillun: Marthy, +'Lizabeth, Flavilia, Mary, Jack, Bill, Denson, Pink, Tally, Thomas, +Albert, and Frank. + +"My pappy's name was Steve Hutchins. He b'long to de Hutchins what live +down near Silver Creek. He jus' come on Satu'd'y night an' us don' see +much of 'im. Us call him 'dat man.' Mammy tol' us to be more 'spectful +to 'im 'cause he was us daddy, but us aint care nothin' 'bout 'im. He +aint never brung us no candy or nothin'. + +"My mammy was name Lucy Berry. She always go by de white folks name what +she live wid. She aint never marry. She had fo' boys an' three girls. +Dey was name Delia, Sarah, Ella, Nathan, Isom, Anderson, an' Pleas. She +work in de fiel' an Old Marster say she's de only woman on de place what +could plow lak a man. + +"I 'members my gran'ma, too. Us always call her 'Granny.' She say dey +stole her back in Virginny an' brung 'er to Mississippi an' sol' her to +Marse Berry. Her name was Hannah. She was my mammy's Mammy. I don' +'member nothin' 'bout my pappy's folks 'cause I never seen none of' em. + +"Old Marster was a rich man for dat day. He had a sawmill, a cotton gin, +an' a gris' mill. Us always had plenty t'eat an' wear. Dey spun an' +weaved dey own cloth an' made us clo'es out-a it. + +"I can jus' see de white folk's house now. It was a big house, nice an' +clean, but twant painted. It had a row o' rooms 'cross dis way an' +a-nother row dat way wid a hall between. Dey had plenty o' rooms for all +dem boys an' gals. Some of 'em was 'bout grown. De quarters[FN: slave +quarters] was in de back o' de house. De cook's house was closes' to de +Big House, den nex' was Granny's house where us stayed. Den come a long +row way down to de back fence. + +"Dey didn' have no overseer or driver. Dey was 'nough o' dem boys to +look after de work an' Old Marster say he don' need no overseer to look +after his slaves. + +"My white folks was all Baptis' an' dey made us go to church, too. De +church was called de Strong River Church. Dey had big baptisin's. I +'members when I joined de church. De white folks preacher baptised us in +de creek what run from Marse Berry's mill pond. I was dressed up in a +white lowell slip. When us dress' up in Sund'y clo'es us had caliker[FN: +calico] dresses. Dey sho' was pretty. I 'members a dress now dat Old +Marster bought for my granny. It was white an' yaller, an' it was de +prettiest thing I ever seen. + +"Us white folks was good to us. Dey warnt always a-beatin' an' +a-knockin' us 'roun'. De truf is you couldn' fin' a scar on nary one o' +us. 'Course, some times dey whup us, but dey didn' gash us lak some o' +de old marsters did dey Niggers. + +"When Old Marster died I didn' know nothin' bout him bein' sick. He took +a cramp colic in de night an' was dead 'fore mornin'. I hear somebody +a-cryin' at de Big House an' Granny tol' us dat Old Marster done die in +de night. Dey had a big fun'al an' all de folks come. De men carried him +to de graveyard by de church. Dey didn' have no hearses dem days. Twant +far to de graveyard so dey jus' toted de coffin to whar dey buried 'im. +Dey put flowers in cups an' vases on de grave, so's dey wouldn' wilt. + +"Us was all sorry when Old Marster died, I cried 'cause I said, 'Now us +won' git no more candy.' He used to bring us candy whan he went to town. +Us'd be lookin' for 'im when he come home. He'd say, 'Whars all my +little Niggers?' Den us'd come a-runnin' an' he'd han' it to us out-a +his saddle bags. It was mos'ly good stick candy. + +"I 'members de paterollers. Whenever de cullud folks would slip off an' +have dey frolics dout gittin' a pass from Old Marster de paterollers +would come. Lots-a time dey'd come while us was a-dancin' an' a-havin' a +big time. Dem paterollers would swarm in de room lak a lot o' bees. Fore +anybody knowed it, dey'd begin grabbing at de mens. If dey didn' have +dey pass wid 'em dey took 'em down in de woods an' whup 'em for runnin' +off wid out asking dey white folks. Dey didn' bother de wimnins much. +De wimmins mos' always got away while dey was catchin' de mens. + +"Onct I slipped off wid another gal an' went to a party dout asking Old +Mis'. When dem Night Riders come dat night, de Niggers was a-runnin' an' +a-dodgin' an' a-jumpin' out-a winders lak dey was scairt to death. I +runs too, me an' dat other gal. I fell down an' tore my dress, but I +warnt studyin' dat dress. I knows dat dem white folks had dat strap an' +I's gittin' 'way fas' as I could. + +"When Miss 'Lizabeth got married to Mr. Ras Laird, dey had a big weddin' +an' all dey folks come to see 'em married. Den dey went to live in +Rankin County an' took me wid 'em. Old Marster had give me to Miss +'Lizabeth. + +"I 'members when de Yankees come to de house. Us heard dey was comin', +so us hid all de hams an' shoulders up in de lof' o' de Big House. Dey +didn' git much. Dey was so mad dey jus' tore up some of Old Mis' clo'es +what was in de wardrobe. Us was sho' scairt of 'em. + +"I 'members dey promise to give de cullud folks all kin' o' things. Dey +never give 'em nothin' dat I know's about. Us was jus' turnt loose to +scratch for us ownse'ves. Us was glad to stay on wid de white folks, +'cause dey was de bes' frien's us had. I don' know nobody what got a +thing 'cept what Old Marster an' Old Mis' give 'em. + +"After freedom I went back to 'Old Mis'. I walked all de way back from +Rankin County. It was a long way, but I wanted to see Old Mis' an' my +Mammy an' my brothers an' sisters. + +"When de surrender come by pappy come to git me. I didn' wan'-a go. I +tol' 'im I's gwine stay wid Old Mis'. So he goes an' gits de sheriff an' +takes me anyway. I runned away twict an' come back to Old Mis'. He +whupped me de firs' time, but de nex' time I hid from him an' he couldn' +catch me. He went back home an' 'lemme 'lone. Den I went wid my mammy to +live wid Marse Tally Berry. He was one of Old Marster's sons. Dey used +to come an' tell me dat dat old Nigger was gwine kill me if I didn' come +wid him. But I jus' stayed hid out till he went away. + +"I spec' all my white folks is dead now. I wish I could go back to 'em +now. Dey help me. Dey was good to us after de War was over. Dis one +would want me to live wid dem, den de other one would want me to live +wid dem. Sometimes I quit one an' go live wid de other one. All of 'em +sho' did treat me good. I's havin' a heap harder time now dan I ever had +in slav'ry times. I sho' is. + +"Dey raised de young folks better dem days. Dey learnt 'em to work. Dey +didn' min' work. Today dey don' care 'bout nothin' but havin' a good +time. Dey ain' studyin' 'bout no hereafter, neither. + +"De Relief give me a little somethin' t'eat an' wear one time, but dey +aint never give me no money. I's old an' needy, but I's trustin' de Lord +an' de good white folks to he'p me now. All de white folks I used to +work for has moved away from town now. I don' have nobody to look to but +my daughter. She looks after me de bes' she can. Dey is some neighbor +wimmins dat comes an' sets wid me sometimes. + +"I's gittin' deaf an' I aint got a tooth lef' in my head. I's too feeble +to he'p make a livin', but maybe I'll git dat Old Age Pension 'fore I +die." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[MOLLIE WILLIAMS +Terry, Mississippi] + +[Illustration: Mollie Williams] + + +Mollie Williams, who lives two miles west of Terry, Miss., tells her +story: + +"Iffen I lives' til nex' September 15, I'll be eighty fo'! I was born +'bout three miles frum Utica on de Newsome place. Me an' brudder Hamp +b'longed to Marse George Newsome. Marse George was named afte' George +Washington up in Virginny whar he come frum. Miss Margurite was our +mistiss. My mammy? Well, I'll have to tell you now 'bout her. + +"You see, Marse George come off down here frum Virginny lak young folks +venturin' 'bout, an' mar'ied Mis' Margurite an' wanted to start up +livin' right over thar near Utica whar I was born. But Marse George was +po', an' he sho' foun' out ye can't make no crop wid'out'n a start of +darkies, so he writ home to Virginny fer to git some darkies. All dey +sont him was fo' mens an' old Aunt Harriet fer to cook. + +"One day Marse George an' his Uncle, Mr. John Davenport--now thar was a +rich man fer ye, why, he had two carri'ge drivers--dey rid over to Grand +Gulf whar dey was a sellin' slabes offen de block an' Mr. John tol' +Marse George to pick hisself out a pair of darkies to mate so's he could +git hisself a start of darkies fer to chop his cotton an' like. So Marse +George pick out my pappy fust. My pappy come frum North Ca'lina. Den he +seen my mammy an' she was big an' strengthy an' he wanted her pow'ful +bad. But lak I tol' you, he didn' have 'nough money to buy 'em both, so +his Uncle John say he'd buy mammy an' den he would loan her over to +Marse George fer pappy. An' de fust chile would be Mr. John's, an' de +secon' Marse George's, an' likewise. Mammy was a Missourian name Marylin +Napier Davenpo't. An' pappy was name Martin Newsome. + +"Darkies libed in li'l old log houses wid dirt chimbleys. Dat is, de +rest of de darkies did. Dey kep' me up in de Big House, bein' mammyless +lak. Mos'ly I slep' in de trun'le bed wid Miss Mary Jane till I got so +bad dey had to mek a pallet on de flo' fer me. Dey was Mr. Bryant, Mr. +A.D., Miss Martha, Miss Ann, Miss Helen, Miss Mary Jane, an' Mr. George, +all b'longin' to Marse George an' Miss Margurite. + +"Mammy was a fiel' han'. She could plow an' wuk in de fiel's jes' lak a +man, an' my pappy, he done de same. Mammy, she hated house wuk--lak me. +I jes natu'lly loves to be out runnin' roun' in de fiel's an' 'bout. I +neber lak'd to do wuk roun' de house none t'all. + +"We wo' lowell clo'es an' brass toed brogans. Miss Margurite made our +dresses an' lak, an' afte' Aunt Harriet died, she done de cookin' too +fer all de slabes an' de fambly. She fix up dinner fer de fiel' han's, +an' I taken it to 'em. Marse George had old powder horn he blowed +mornin's far to git de darkies up 'fo day good, an' dey come in 'bout +sundown. + +"We growed corn an' taters an' cotton plentiful, an' we had gran' +orchids[FN: orchids] an' penders[FN: peanuts]. Den, sheeps an' hogs an' +cows an' lak. + +"Miss Margurite had a piany, a 'cordian, a flutena, an' a fiddle. She +could play a fiddle good as a man. Law, I heerd many as three fiddles +goin' in dat house many a time, an' I kin jes see her li'l old fair +han's now, playin' jes as fast as lightnin' a chune[FN: tune] 'bout + + +[HW: Song] + + 'My father he cried, my mother she cried, + I wasn' cut out fer de army. + O, Capt'in Gink, my hoss me think, + But feed his hoss on co'n an' beans + An s'port de gals by any means! + 'Cause I'm a Capt'in in de army.' + +"All us chullun begged ter play dat an' we all sing an' dance--_great +goodness_! + +"One song I 'member mammy singin': + + +[HW: Song] + + 'Let me nigh, by my cry, + Give me Jesus. + You may have all dis world, + But give me Jesus.' + +"Singin' an' shoutin', she had 'ligion all right. She b'longed to Old +Farrett back in Missouri. + +"We didn' git sick much, but mammy made yeller top tea[FN: dog fennel] +fer chills an' fever an' give us. Den iffen it didn' do no good, Miss +Margurite called fer Dr. Hunt lak she done when her own chullun got +sick. + +"None of de darkies on dat place could read an' write. Guess Miss Helen +an' Miss Ann would'a learned me, but I was jes so bad an' didn' lak to +set still no longer'n I had to. + +"I seen plenty of darkies whupped. Marse George buckled my mammy down +an' whupped her 'cause she run off. Once when Marse George seen pappy +stealin' a bucket of 'lasses an' totin' it to a gal on 'nother place, he +whupped him but didn' stake him down. Pappy tol' him to whup him but not +to stake him--he'd stan' fer it wid'out de stakin'--so I 'member he +looked jes lak he was jumpin' a rope an' hollering', '_Pray Marser_', +ever time de strop hit 'im. + +"I heered 'bout some people whut nailed de darkies years[FN: ears] to a +tree an' beat' em but I neber seen none whupped dat way. + +"I neber got no whuppins frum Marse George 'cause he didn' whup de +chulluns none. Li'l darky chullun played 'long wid white chullun. Iffen +de old house is still thar I 'spec you kin fin' mud cakes up under de +house whut we made out'n eggs we stole frum de hen nests. Den we milked +jes anybody's cows we could ketch, an' churned it. We's all time in ter +some mischief. + +"Thar was plenty dancin' 'mong'st darkies on Marse George's place an' on +ones nearby. Dey danced reels an' lak in de moonlight: + + +[HW: Songs] + + 'Mamma's got de whoopin' cough, + Daddy's got de measles, + Dat's whar de money goes, + Pop goes de weasel.' + + + 'Buffalo gals, can't you come out tonight, + Come out tonight, an' dance by de light of de moon?' + + + 'Gennie, put de kettle on, + Sallie, boil de water strong, + Gennie, put de kittle on + An' le's have tea!' + + + 'Run tell Coleman, + Run tell everbody + Dat de niggers is arisin'!' + + + 'Run nigger run, de patterrollers ketch you-- + Run nigger run, fer hits almos' day, + De nigger run; de nigger flew; de nigger los' + His big old shoe.' + +"When de War come, Marse George went to fight back in Virginny. Us all +thought de Yankees was some kin' of debils an' we was skeered to death +of 'em. + +"One day Miss Mary Jane, Helen, an' me was playin' an' we seen mens all +dressed in blue coats wid brass buttons on dey bosoms ridin' on big fine +hosses, drive right up to our po'ch an' say to Aunt Dalia whar she was +sweepin': + +"'Good morning, Madam, no men's about?' + +"When she tol' 'em wa'nt no mens 'bout, day ax fer de keys to de +smokehouse an' went out an' hap'ed deyse'ves an' loaded dey wagons. Den +dey went out in de pasture 'mongst de sheeps an' killed off some of dem. +Nex' dey went in de buggy house an' all together shuck down de carri'ge +so we neber could use hit no mo'. Yessum, dey done right smart of +mischief 'roun' thar. + +"Some of de darkies went off wid de Yankees. My brudder Howard did, an' +we ain't heerd tell of him since. I'll tell you 'bout it. You see, Mr. +Davenpo't owned him an' when he heard 'bout da Yankees comin' dis way, +he sont his white driver an' Howard in de carri'ge wid all his valuables +to de swamp to hide, an' while dey was thar de white driver, he went +off to sleep an' Howard was prowlin' 'roun' an' we all jes reckin he +went on off wid de Yankees. + + +[HW: Superstition] + +"You mean hoo doo? Dat's whut ma pappy done to my mammy. You see, dey +was allus fussin' 'bout fust one thing, den 'nother, an' mammy got mad +'caus'n pappy slipped her clo'es out'n her ches' an' taken over to de +other gals fer to dance in, an' when he brung' em back mammy would see +finger prints on' em whar he been turnin' 'em 'roun' an' she sho' be mad +an' fight him. She could lick him too caus'n she was bigger. One day +pappy come in an' say to mammy: + +"'Does you want to be bigger an' stronger dan whut you already is?' An' +mammy say she did. So nex' day he brung her a li'l bottle of somethin' +blood red wid somethin' looked like a gourd seed in de middle of it, an' +he tol' her to drink hit iffen she want to be real strong. Frum de fust +drink she fell off. Place of walkin' off, she jes stumbled an' got +wo'ser an' wo'ser till she plum los' her min'. Fer a long time, dey had +to tie her to a tree. Den afte' de War, she lef Mr. Davenpo't's an' jes +traveled 'bout over de country. I stayed on wid Miss Margurite he'pin' +her jes lak I'd been doin'. One day mammy come afte' me an' I run an' +hid under a pile of quilts an' laked to smothered to death waitin' fer +her to go on off. + +"Nex' time she come, she brung a written letter to Miss Margurite frum +de Free Man's Board an' taken me wid her. We jes went frum place to +place 'til I got mar'ied an' settled down fer myself. I had three +chullun, but ain't none livin' now." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +[TOM WILSON +near New Zion Church, Mississippi] + +[Illustration: Tom Wilson] + + +"My name is Tom Wilson an' I'se eighty fo' years old. My mammy was name +Ca'line an' my pappy was Jeff Wilson. Us lived right out on de old Jim +Wilson place, right by New Zion Chu'ch. I lives thar now--owns me a plot +of groun' an' farms. + +"Well, us b'longed to Marse Jim an' Miss Nancy Wilson. I was born right +out thar, but my mammy was brung down frum Ten'see. She come by heir to +Marse Jim but 'fo that her was sol' for ten hun'erd dollars. My mammy +was a big sportly woman an' brung a lot er money an' my pappy, he brung +nine hun'erd. Marse Jim bought him offen de block, but I don't know jes +whar frum. I jes 'members 'bout hearin' him tell 'bout bein' sol'. + +"Bofe of dem was fiel' han's. Law, mammy could plow jes lak a man all +day long; den milk twen'y head er cows afte' she quit de fiel' at night. + +"De Big House was made out'n logs an' reckin hit had 'bout seben er +eight rooms in hit, an' de kitchen sot a piece frum de mainest house. +Thar was one brick chimbly an' one dirt one to hit, an' a great big wide +po'ch 'cross de front of de house. I 'member Mis Nancy an' white folks +'ud set out thar of an evenin' an' mek us li'l cullud chullun dance an' +sing an' cut capers fer to 'muse 'em. Den dey had a trough, built 'bout +lak a pig trough, an' dey would mek de cook bake a gre't big slab er +co'n bread an' put hit in de trough an' po' milk or lasses over hit, +an' tu'n us li'l cullud chullun loose on hit. An' I'se tell'n y' as much +of hit went in our hair an' eyes an' years[FN: ears] as went in our +moufs[FN: mouths]. + +"I reckin thar was' bout two er three hun'erd acres in Marse Jim's +place. Us raised cotton, taters, an' hogs. No'm, slaves didn' have no +plots er dey own. Marse Jim give us our rashins' every week. Well, mos' +er de cullud people 'ud cook dey victuals over de fire place in dey own +houses. Us sho' did have 'possum an' taters. + +"My mammy wuked in de loom room at night by light of a pine knot. In de +Big House dey had taller[FN: tallow] can'les 'cause I 'member my mammy +moulded 'em. No'm, de spinnin' wheels was kep' in de kitchen of de Big +House. Hit had a dirt flo'. Us jes wo' li'l old suits made out'n lowell +cloth whut mammy wove on de loom. I doan 'member wearin' no shoes. + +"I jes played roun' 'bout de place an' he'ped wid de cleanin' up an' +dish washin'. Kinder house boy, I was. + + +[HW: Medicine] + +"When us got sick, mammy made us pills out'n herbs. She taken May apple +roots an' boiled hit down to a syrup; den she let dat, dry out an' +rolled hit inter pills. Day sho' was fin' fo' mos' anything we might +have. + +"Chris'mus was a mighty glad time fo' us. Yessum, us got extra rashins' +an' had time off ter play an' kick our heels. Gen'ly[FN: generally] had +'bout a week off. Tell you what Marse Jim 'ud do when Chris'mus come +'roun'. He'd sen' one of da cullud mans out to git a log an' say, 'Now +long as dis log burn, y'all kin have off'n wuk'. Co'se us'd hunt de +bigges' gum log an' den soak hit in de stream so hit wud burn on a long +time. Dey'd put hit on back er de fire an' hit wud las' mos' a week. + +"Couldn' none of us read or write, an' us wa'nt neber learned 'til afte' +us was set free. Den some went to li'l schools fer da cullud people. + +"I sho' has seen m' mammy an' lots mo' git whuppins. Marse Jim, he had a +strop er leather stuck in de slit end of a staff, an' he sho' did whup +'em layed 'cross a barrel. Once' m' pappy run away an' Marse Jim got de +blood houn's afte' him, an' catched him up 'fo he could git fur, an' dat +day he lay him 'cross de barrel, an' whupped him frum sun up til sun +down. When he quit off, m' pappy couldn' talk no more'n a whisper +sca'cely. + +"Pattyrollers, I heard of 'em allright 'cause dey sho' would git you +iffen y' went abroad widout a pass frum Marse Jim. + +"One day us li'l cullud chullun was frollicin' out in de front yard an' +Mis' Nancy an' some mo' was settin' on de po'ch an' all of a sudden I +see somebuddy comin' down de road an' I says 'Look, whut's dat?' + +"An' white folks run to de woods an' hid out caze dey seen hit was +Calv'ry 'bout a mile long comin' down de road. Sojer rid right up to me +an' stuck his bay'net at me an' says, 'Boy, whar de tater house?' An' I +sho' did show him whar 'twas. Dem sojers sho' was starved. Dey take +thirty tater punks, fifteen er twenty chickens, and five hams. Den dey +went in de smoke house an' grabbed off five er ten poun's er sausage, +middlln's, and sides. Dey take 'nough grub to load three wagons an' take +hit over to New Zion Church 'bout er mile frum us. An' right thar dey +camped that night. + +"That was afte' de Siege er Vicksburg. Marse Jim didn' keer, but he sent +us ober nex' mo'nin' to git de leavin's, an' thar was a wagon load er +jes de leavin's. + +"I 'members when us was sot free allright. 'Twas in de middle of da +winter y' know, an' Marse Jim was so mad 'bout hit he went off down to a +li'l stream or water an' broke de ice an' jumped in, an' he died 'bout +two weeks afte' of de pewmonia[FN: pneumonia]. + +"I was glad to git m' freedom 'cause I got out'n frum under dem +whuppins. + +"Afte' dat us bought lan' frum de Wilsons whut was lef' an' I been a +fa'min' thar ever since." + + + + +Mississippi Federal Writers +Slave Autobiographies + +CLARA C. YOUNG +Monroe County, Mississippi + + +Clara G. Young, ex-slave, Monroe County, is approximately 95 years old, +about five feet two inches tall, and weighs 105 pounds. She is a frail, +dark skinned Negro, with the typical broad nose and the large mouth of +the southern Negro. Her physical condition is especially good for a +woman of her age. She is very talkative at times, but her memory appears +to come and go, so that she has to be prompted at intervals in her +story-telling by her daughter or granddaughter, with whom she lives. +Familiarly known as "Aunt Classie," she is very proud of her age and +more especially of her long line of descendants. + +"Law, Miss, I doan know when I was born, but I do know dat I'se +sebenteen years old when I was fust sol'. Dey put me an' my brudder up +on de auction block at de same time. He brung $1400 but I dis'members +zactly what dey paid far me. Wa'nt dat much, tho', fer big strong mans +brung mo' dan wimmens an' gals." + +Long pauses accentuated the quavery voice of the old Negro, whose head +resembled a nappy patch of cotton, and who was so enthusiastic over +reminiscing about the days when she was young and carefree. + +"I was born in Huntsville, Alabamy, an' my mammy an' pappy was name +Silby an' Sharper Conley. Dey tuk de las' name frum de old marster dat +owned 'em. I lived dar wid 'em 'til de chullun drew dey parts an' us was +'vided out. While I was wid old marster, he let Miss Rachel--dat was +his wife--have me fer de house. She larned me how to cook an' wait on de +table, an' I declar', she call me her ver' smartest gal! Sometimes, +tho', I wouldn' come right quick lak when she ring de bell fer me, an' +she'd start ringin' it harder an' harder. I knowed den she was mad. When +I'd get dar, she'd fuss at me an' tu'n my dress up an' whup me--not hard +'cause she wa'nt so strong--_but I'd holler some_! + +"Dey had a nigger woman to teach all de house darkies how to read an' +write an' I larned how to sign my name an' got as fur as b-a-k-e-r in de +Blue Back Speller. + +"Marse Conley an' Miss Rachel had fo' chullun, Miss Mary, Miss Alice, +Miss Willie, an' Marse Andrew, an' when de time come, dey give me to +Marse Andrew. He car'ied me an' de rest out to Texas whar he thought he +would go an' git rich. We neber stayed long, tho', fer lots of de +niggers runned 'way to de Free State an' Marse Andrew didn' lak dat. + + +[HW: Pre-War Days] + +"It was when he brought us back to Huntsville dat I was sol'. All de +white folks was a gittin' scared dey was gwineter lose dey slaves an' +dere was a pow'ful lot er nigger sellin' goin' on den. Marse Ewing +bought me frum him an' car'ied me to his plantation near Aberdeen, +Mississippi. Den I started to workin' in de fiel' wid de rest of de +hands. De oberseer dat we had was right mean to us when we didn' work +our rows as fas' as de others, an' sometime he whup us, wimmen an' all. +When he did dat some of us most nigh allus tell de marster an' he would +jump on de oberseer an' tell him to lay off de wimmen an' chullun. Dey +was allus sort of thoughtful of us an' we loved old marster. + +"I heerd tell one time, tho', of de hired man (he was a nigger) an' de +oberseer whuppin' one of my cousins 'til she bled; she was jes' +sebenteen years old an' was in de fambly way fer de fust time, an' +couldn' work as hard as de rest. Nex' mawnin' afte' dat she died. De +hired man tol' de rest if dey said anything 'bout it to de marster, he'd +beat dem to death, too, so ever'body kep' quiet an' de marster neber +knowed. + +"We worked hard in de fiel' all day, but when dark come we would all go +to de Quarters an' afte' supper we would set 'roun' an' sing an' talk. +Mos' of de time we had good food to eat 'cause mos' of us had our +gardens, an' de Quarters cook would fix what we wanted if we brung it to +her. Durin' de last years 'fo de surrender, we didn' have much to eat +tho'; an' made out de best we could. + + +[HW: Religion] + +"De mos' fun we had was at our meetin's. We had dem mos' ever' Sunday +an' dey lasted way into de night. De preacher I laked de bes' was name +Mathew Ewing. He was a comely nigger, black as night, an' he sho' could +read out of his han'. He neber larned no real readin' an' writin' but +he sho' knowed his Bible an' would hol' his han' out an' mek lak he was +readin' an' preach de purtiest preachin' you ever heered. De meetin's +last frum early in de mawnin' 'til late at night. When dark come, de men +folks would hang up a wash pot, bottom up'ards, in de little brush +church-house us had, so's it would catch de noise an' de oberseer +wouldn' hear us singin' an' shoutin'. Dey didn' min' us meetin' in de +day time, but dey thought iffen we stayed up ha'f de night we wouldn' +work so hard de nex' day--an' dat was de truf. + +"You should'a seen some of de niggers get 'ligion. De best way was to +carry 'em to de cemetery an' let 'em stand ober a grave. Dey would start +singin' an' shoutin' 'bout sein' fire an' brimstone; den dey would sing +some mo' an' look plum sanctified. + +"When us had our big meetin's, dere would allus be some darkies frum de +plantations aroun' to come. Dey would have to slip off 'cause dey +marsters was afraid dey would git hitched up wid some other black boy er +gal on de other plantation an' den dey would either have to buy er sell +a nigger 'fo you could git any work out of him. + +"We neber knowed much bout de War, 'cept dat we didn' have as much to +eat er wear, an' de white men folks was all gone. Den, too, Old Miss +cried a lot of de time. + + +[HW: Reconstruction] + +"De Yankees come 'roun' afte' de War an' tol' us we's frea an' we +shouted an' sang, an' had a big celebration fer a few days. Den we got +to wonderin' 'bout what good it did us. It didn' feel no diffrunt; we +all loved our marster an' missus an' stayed on wid 'em jes' lak nothin' +had happened. De Yankees tried to git some of de men to vote, too, but +not many did 'cause dey was scared of de Ku Kluxers. Dey would come at +night all dressed up lak ghosts an' scare us all. We didn' lak de +Yankees anyway. Dey wa'nt good to us; when dey lef' we would allus sing +dat leetle song what go lak dis: + + +[HW: Song] + + 'Old Mister Yankee, think he is so grand, + Wid his blue coat tail a draggin' on de ground!' + +"I stayed on wid Old Marster afte' de surrender, wid de res', 'til I met +Joshua. Joshua Young was his name an' he b'longed to de Youngs whut +lived out at Waverly. I moved out dar wid him afte' we mar'ied. We didn' +have no big weddin' 'cause dere wa'nt much money den. We had a preacher +tho', an' den went along jes' lak we had allus been mar'ied. + +"Josh, he's been daid fer a long time now but we had a good life out at +Waverly an' many a night stood outside de parlor do' an' watch de white +folks at dey big dances an' parties. De folks was pow'ful nice to us an' +we raised a passel er chullun out dar. All of 'em 'ceptin' three be daid +now. George is de oldes' of those lef'. He's a bricklayer, carpenter, +preacher, an' mos anything else he 'cides to call hisse'f. He's got 19 +or 20 chullun, I dis'members which. Edith ain't got so many. She live up +North. I lives wid my other darter an' her gal. I named her afte' my +sisters. Her name is Anna Luvenia Hulda Larissa Jane Bell Young +McMillan. Dere may be more'n dat now, but anyways dere is five +generations livin'. + +"What I think 'bout slav'ry? Well, leetle Miss, I tell you, I wish it +was back. Us was a lot better off in dem days dan we is now. If dem +Yankees had lef us 'lone we'd been a lot happier. We wouldn' been on +'lief an' old age pension fer de las' three years. An' Janie May, here, +I b'lieve, sure as goodness, would'a been de Missus' very smartes' gal, +an' would'a stayed wid her in de Big House lak I did." + + +Note: This autobiography is exactly as related by the Negro to the field +worker with exception of a few changes in spelling. Phraseology is the +same. + +B.Y. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Slave Narratives: A Folk History of +Slavery in the United States From Interviews with Former Slaves, by Work Projects Administration + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SLAVE NARRATIVES *** + +***** This file should be named 12055.txt or 12055.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/2/0/5/12055/ + +Produced by Andrea Ball and PG Distributed Proofreaders. 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