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monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36020 ***</div> +<div class="document" id="slave-narratives"> +<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title with-subtitle">Slave Narratives</h1> +</div> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> +</div> +<div class="container" id="pg-produced-by"> +<p class="noindent pfirst">Produced by the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at <a class="reference external" href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>.</p> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<p class="center larger pfirst">SLAVE NARRATIVES</p> +<div class="center larger vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">A Folk History of Slavery in the United States</em></p> +<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">From Interviews with Former Slaves</em></p> +<div class="center vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pnext smaller">TYPEWRITTEN RECORDS PREPARED BY</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">THE FEDERAL WRITERS' PROJECT</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">1936-1938</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">ASSEMBLED BY</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS PROJECT</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">WORK PROJECTS ADMINISTRATION</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">FOR THE DISTRICT OF COLUMBIA</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">SPONSORED BY THE LIBRARY OF CONGRESS</p> +<div class="center smaller vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pnext"><em class="italics">Illustrated with Photographs</em></p> +<p class="center pnext">WASHINGTON 1941</p> +<div class="center vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center larger pnext">VOLUME I</p> +<p class="center larger pnext">ALABAMA NARRATIVES</p> +<div class="center larger vspace" style="height: 2em"> +</div> +<p class="center pnext smaller">Prepared by the Federal Writers' Project of</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">the Works Progress Administration</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">for the State of Alabama</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">[HW:] Handwritten note</p> +<p class="center pnext smaller">[TR:] Transcriber's note</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-72"> +<span id="a-slave-cabin-in-barbour-county-near-eufaula"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="A Slave Cabin in Barbour County near Eufaula" src="images/image000frontis.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +A Slave Cabin in Barbour County near Eufaula</div> +</div> +<div class="contents level-2 section" id="id1"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">INFORMANTS</h2> +<ul class="toc-list"> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charlie-aarons" id="id65">Charlie Aarons</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#anthony-abercrombie" id="id66">Anthony Abercrombie</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#molly-ammond-ammonds" id="id67">Molly Ammond (Ammonds)</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charity-anderson" id="id68">Charity Anderson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gus-askew" id="id69">Gus Askew</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#tom-baker" id="id70">Tom Baker</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#henry-barnes" id="id71">Henry Barnes</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#nathan-beauchamp" id="id72">Nathan Beauchamp</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#oliver-bell" id="id73">Oliver Bell</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#nelson-birdsong" id="id74">Nelson Birdsong</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ank-bishop" id="id75">Ank Bishop</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#siney-bonner" id="id76">Siney Bonner</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jennie-bowen" id="id77">Jennie Bowen</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#nannie-bradfield" id="id78">Nannie Bradfield</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#martha-bradley" id="id79">Martha Bradley</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#allen-brown" id="id80">Allen Brown</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gus-brown" id="id81">Gus Brown</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#walter-calloway" id="id82">Walter Calloway</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#esther-king-casey" id="id83">Esther King Casey</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#amy-chapman" id="id84">Amy Chapman</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-chapman" id="id85">Emma Chapman</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#henry-cheatam" id="id86">Henry Cheatam</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#laura-clark" id="id87">Laura Clark</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#hattie-clayton" id="id88">Hattie Clayton</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#wadley-shorty-clemons" id="id89">Wadley "Shorty" Clemons</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#william-colbert" id="id90">William Colbert</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#tildy-collins" id="id91">Tildy Collins</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sara-colquitt" id="id92">Sara Colquitt</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mandy-mccullough-cosby" id="id93">Mandy McCullough Cosby</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-crockett" id="id94">Emma Crockett</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#cheney-cross" id="id95">Cheney Cross</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#matilda-pugh-daniel" id="id96">Matilda Pugh Daniel</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#carrie-davis" id="id97">Carrie Davis</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#clara-davis" id="id98">Clara Davis</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#george-dillard" id="id99">George Dillard</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ella-dilliard" id="id100">Ella Dilliard</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#rufus-dirt" id="id101">Rufus Dirt</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#katherine-eppes" id="id102">Katherine Eppes</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#reuben-fitzpatrick" id="id103">Reuben Fitzpatrick</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#heywood-ford" id="id104">Heywood Ford</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#bert-frederick" id="id105">Bert Frederick</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#delia-garlic" id="id106">Delia Garlic</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#angie-garrett" id="id107">Angie Garrett</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#henry-garry" id="id108">Henry Garry</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#georgia" id="id109">Georgia</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#fannie-gibson" id="id110">Fannie Gibson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#frank-gill" id="id111">Frank Gill</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jim-gillard" id="id112">Jim Gillard</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mary-ella-grandberry" id="id113">Mary Ella Grandberry</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#esther-green" id="id114">Esther Green</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jake-green" id="id115">Jake Green</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charity-grigsby" id="id116">Charity Grigsby</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charles-hayes" id="id117">Charles Hayes</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lizzie-hill" id="id118">Lizzie Hill</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gabe-hines" id="id119">Gabe Hines</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#adeline-hodges" id="id120">Adeline Hodges</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#caroline-holland" id="id121">Caroline Holland</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jane-holloway" id="id122">Jane Holloway</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#joseph-holmes" id="id123">Joseph Holmes</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#josh-horn" id="id124">Josh Horn</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-l-howard" id="id125">Emma L. Howard</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#everett-ingram" id="id126">Everett Ingram</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#hannah-irwin" id="id127">Hannah Irwin</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#martha-jackson" id="id128">Martha Jackson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#jane" id="id129">Jane</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#hilliard-johnson" id="id130">Hilliard Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#randolph-johnson" id="id131">Randolph Johnson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#abraham-jones" id="id132">Abraham Jones</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-jones" id="id133">Emma Jones</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#hannah-jones" id="id134">Hannah Jones</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#josephine" id="id135">Josephine</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lucindy-lawrence-jurdon" id="id136">Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lucy-kimball" id="id137">Lucy Kimball</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ellen-king" id="id138">Ellen King</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mandy-leslie" id="id139">Mandy Leslie</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#dellie-lewis" id="id140">Dellie Lewis</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lightnin" id="id141">Lightnin'</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#billy-abraham-longslaughter" id="id142">Billy Abraham Longslaughter</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#louis" id="id143">Louis</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#tom-mcalpin" id="id144">Tom McAlpin</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#anne-maddox" id="id145">Anne Maddox</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mandy" id="id146">Mandy</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#frank-menefee" id="id147">Frank Menefee</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#isaam-morgan" id="id148">Isaam Morgan</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#tony-morgan" id="id149">Tony Morgan</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mose" id="id150">Mose</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sally-murphy" id="id151">Sally Murphy</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#hattie-anne-nettles" id="id152">Hattie Anne Nettles</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#w-e-northcross" id="id153">W.E. Northcross</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#wade-owens" id="id154">Wade Owens</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#molly-parker" id="id155">Molly Parker</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lindy-patton" id="id156">Lindy Patton</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#simon-phillips" id="id157">Simon Phillips</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#roxy-pitts" id="id158">Roxy Pitts</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#carrie-pollard" id="id159">Carrie Pollard</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#irene-poole" id="id160">Irene Poole</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#nicey-pugh" id="id161">Nicey Pugh</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#sally-reynolds" id="id162">Sally Reynolds</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mary-rice" id="id163">Mary Rice</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#cornelia-robinson" id="id164">Cornelia Robinson</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#gus-rogers" id="id165">Gus Rogers</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#janie-scott" id="id166">Janie Scott</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#maugan-shepherd" id="id167">Maugan Shepherd</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#allen-sims" id="id168">Allen Sims</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#frank-smith" id="id169">Frank Smith</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#john-smith" id="id170">John Smith</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#annie-stanton" id="id171">Annie Stanton</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#theodore-fontaine-stewart" id="id172">Theodore Fontaine Stewart</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#george-strickland" id="id173">George Strickland</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#cull-taylor" id="id174">Cull Taylor</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#daniel-taylor" id="id175">Daniel Taylor</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#george-taylor" id="id176">George Taylor</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#amanda-tellis" id="id177">Amanda Tellis</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#ellen-thomas" id="id178">Ellen Thomas</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#elizabeth-thomas" id="id179">Elizabeth Thomas</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mollie-tillman" id="id180">Mollie Tillman</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#alonza-fantroy-toombs" id="id181">Alonza Fantroy Toombs</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#william-henry-towns" id="id182">William Henry Towns</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#stepney-underwood" id="id183">Stepney Underwood</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charlie-van-dyke" id="id184">Charlie Van Dyke</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lilah-walker" id="id185">Lilah Walker</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#simon-walker" id="id186">Simon Walker</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#lucindia-washington" id="id187">Lucindia Washington</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#eliza-white" id="id188">Eliza White</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#mingo-white" id="id189">Mingo White</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#abe-whitess" id="id190">Abe Whitess</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#callie-williams" id="id191">Callie Williams</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#silvia-witherspoon" id="id192">Silvia Witherspoon</a></span></li> +<li class="level-2 toc-entry"><span class="first"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#george-young" id="id193">George Young</a></span></li> +</ul> +</div> +<p class="larger pfirst"><strong class="bold">ILLUSTRATIONS</strong></p> +<div class="line-block outermost smaller"> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#a-slave-cabin-in-barbour-county-near-eufaula">A Slave Cabin in Barbour County near Eufaula</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id2">Molly Ammond (Ammonds)</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id3">Charity Anderson</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id4">Gus Askew</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id5">Nathan Beauchamp</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id6">Oliver Bell</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id7">Ank Bishop</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id8">Siney Bonner</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id9">Jennie Bowen</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id10">Martha Bradley</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id11">Allen Brown</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id12">Gus Brown</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id13">Walter Calloway</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id14">Esther King Casey</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id15">Amy Chapman</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id16">Henry Cheatam</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id17">Laura Clark</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#laura-clark-s-house">Laura Clark's House</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id18">Wadley (Shorty) Clemons</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id19">William Colbert</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id20">Sara Colquitt</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id21">Emma Crockett</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#emma-crockett-s-house">Emma Crockett's House</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id22">Matilda Pugh Daniel</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id23">Carrie Davis</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id24">George Dillard</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id25">Bert Frederick</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id26">Delia Garlic</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id27">Angie Garrett</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id28">Henry Garry</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id29">Jake Green</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id30">Charity Grigsby</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#charity-grigsby-s-house">Charity Grigsby's House</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id31">Lizzie Hill</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id32">Gabe Hines</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id33">Jane Holloway</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id34">Emma L. Howard</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id35">Everett Ingram</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id36">Hannah Irwin</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id37">Martha Jackson</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id38">Abraham Jones</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#abraham-jones-back-yard">Abraham Jones' Back Yard</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#abraham-jones-house">Abraham Jones' House</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id39">Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id40">Tom McAlpin</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id41">Anne Maddox</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id42">Frank Menefee</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id43">Isaam Morgan</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id44">Hattie Anne Nettles</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#rev-wade-owens">Rev. Wade Owens</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id45">Molly Parker</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id46">Lindy Patton</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id47">Simon Phillips</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id48">Carrie Pollard</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id49">Nicey Pugh</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id50">Mary Rice</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id51">Cornelia Robinson</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id52">Maugan Shepherd</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id53">Allen Sims</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id54">Frank Smith</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id55">Theodore Fontaine Stewart</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id56">George Strickland</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id57">Daniel Taylor</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id58">Ellen Thomas</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id59">Alonza Fantroy Toombs</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id60">William Henry Towns</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id61">Stepney Underwood</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id62">Simon Walker</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#cindy-washington">Cindy Washington</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id63">Abe Whitess</a></div> +<div class="line"><a class="reference internal pginternal" href="#id64">George Young</a></div> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charlie-aarons"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id65">Charlie Aarons</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal contact with Uncle Charlie Aarons</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Oak Grove, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Written by Mary A. Poole</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HE LOVED YOUNG MARSTER JOHN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Some friends driving to Oak Grove, Ala., gave the writer the opportunity +on August 4th to interview an old ex-slave, Charlie Aarons, who is quite +venerable in appearance, and who, when asked his age, replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Madam I don't know but I sure been 'round here long time", and when +asked how old he was at the time of the Surrender he answered:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was a man able to do a man's work so I 'spects I was eighteen or +twenty years old."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie, as he is known among his own color and the white people +who know him, told the writer he was born at Petersburg Va., and his +parents, Aaron and Louisa, were owned by a Mr. J.H. White, who had a +store in the city, but no plantation. His parents had three children, +two boys and one girl, and when Uncle Charlie was about ten years of +age, he was sold by Mr. White to a speculator named Jones who brought +him to Mobile. He recalled being placed on the block, at the slave mart +on Royal and State streets, and the anxiety of hearing the different +people bidding for him, and being finally sold to a Mr. Jason Harris, +who lived near Newton Station in Jasper County, Miss.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie never saw or heard of his parents or brother and sister +again and never knew what became of them.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie said Mr. Harris was a pretty rough master, and somewhat +close. All rations were weighed out and limited. He had a white +overseer and a negro driver, who was the meanest of all.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mr. Jason Harris had about sixty slaves, and a large plantation of a +hundred acres, the men and women worked in the fields from six to six, +except on Saturday, when they had half day holiday to clean up +generally.</p> +<p class="pnext">The home of the Harris family was a large two story house and the +quarters were the regular log cabins with clay chimneys. They cooked in +their cabins, but during the busy season in the fields their dinners +were sent out to them each slave having his own tin pail marked with his +name. Water would be sent out in a barrel mounted on an ox cart.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old men and women looked after the children of the slaves while +their parents worked in the fields.</p> +<p class="pnext">When the writer asked Uncle Charlie, if his master or mistress ever +taught him to read or write, he smiled and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, Madam, only to work".</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked if they had any special festivities at Christmas or any other +holiday, he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, we had no special jolifications".</p> +<p class="pnext">Saturday nights they would sing and dance in the quarters +and have prayer meetings, then on some Sundays, they would hitch +up the mules to a big wagon and all go to the white folks church: +and again there would be camp meetings held and the slaves from +all the surrounding plantations would attend, going to same in +these large wagons, sometimes having four mules to a wagon. They then +would have a jolly time along the way, singing and calling to one +another, and making friends.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie, said, he drove many a load of cotton in the large mule +wagons from Newton Station to Enterprise, Mississippi.</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked if that wasn't a chance to run away, he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Git away, why Madam, those nigger dogs would track you and all you got +was a beating."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie seemed to look off in the distance and said: "You know, +Madam, I never saw a slave rebuked until I came to Mississippi," and I +just couldn't understand at first, but he grinned and said: "Lordy, +Madam, some of those niggers were onery, too, and a nigger driver was a +driver sure enough."</p> +<p class="pnext">When the Master's son John Harris went to war, Charlie went with him as +his body guard, and when asked what his duties were, he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I looked after Marster John, tended the horses and the tents. I recalls +well, Madam, the siege of Vicksburg."</p> +<p class="pnext">The writer then asked him if he wasn't afraid of the shot and shell all +around him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, Madam," he replied, "I kept way in the back where the camp was, for +I didn't like to feel the earth trembling 'neath my feet, but you see, +Madam, I loved young Marster John, and he loved me, and I just had to +watch over that boy, and he came through all right."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie said when they were told the Yankees were coming through +from their headquarters in Meridian, Mississippi, and warned of their +raids, they all made to the swamps and staid until they had passed on, +but that the Yankees did not disturb the Jason Harris plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">After the Surrender Charlie came to Mobile and worked at the Yankee +Camp, living in the quarters located in Holly's Garden. He drove their +wagons and was paid $14.00 a month and his keep. After his discharge he +worked on steamboats and followed different lines of work, being +employed for several years at Mr. M.L. Davis' saw mill, and is at +present living on the Davis place at Oak Grove, Ala., an old Southern +home, with quarters originally built for the employees of the mill and +still known as the "quarters", and like other ante-bellum homes they +have their private burying ground on the place.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie was married four times, but now a widower. He had four +children, two boys who are dead, and two girls, one Carrie Johnson, a +widow, living in Kushla, Ala., and the other, Ella Aarons, a grass +widow, living in Mobile, Ala.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie says he saw Jeff. Davis as an old man, after the war at +Mississippi City, Miss., and then his face lit up, and he said; "Wait a +minute, Madam, I saw another president, let me think,—Yes, Madam I saw +President Grant. He came through Mobile from New Orleans, and my! +there was a big parade that day."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked about Abraham Lincoln, Uncle Charlie thought awhile, and +answered:</p> +<p class="pnext">"According to what was issued out in the Bible, there was a time for +slavery, people had to be punished for their sin, and then there was a +time for it not to be, and the Lord had opened a good view to Mr. +Lincoln, and he promoted a good idea."</p> +<p class="pnext">When he was asked about Booker T. Washington he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was traversed out to him until the white folks took part with him +and helped him carry on."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie thinks the present day folks are bad and wicked, and dont +realize anything like the old folks.</p> +<p class="pnext">Charlie is a Baptist, became one when he sought the Lord and thinks all +people should be religious.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="anthony-abercrombie"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id66">Anthony Abercrombie</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Anthony Abercrombie</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">OLD JOE CAN KEEP HIS TWO BITS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Ant'ny sat dozing in the early morning sunshine on his rickety +front porch. He is a thin little old man with patches of white wool here +and there on his bald head, and an expression of kindness and gentleness +on his wrinkled old face.</p> +<p class="pnext">As I went cautiously up the steps, which appeared none too safe, his +cane which had been leaning against his chair, fell to the floor with a +clatter. He awoke with a start and began fumbling around for it with his +trembling and bony hands.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Ant'ny, you don't see so well, do you?" I asked as I recovered +the stick for him. "No ma'am, I sho' don't," he replied. "I ain't seed +none outen one of my eyes in near 'bout sixty years, and de doctor say I +got a catalac on de yuther one; but I knows you is white folks. I always +is been puny, but I reckon I does purty well considerin' I is a hundred +years old."</p> +<p class="pnext">"How do you know you are that old?" I inquired of him. Without +hesitation he answered, "I knows I's dat old 'cause my mistis put it +down in de Bible. I was born on de fourth day and I was a full growed +man when de war come on in '61.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, my mind kinder comes and goes, but I can always 'member 'bout +slave'y time. Hits de things what happen in dese days dat's so easy for +me to disremember. I b'longed to Marster Jim Abercrombie. His plantation +was 'bout sixteen miles north of Marion in Bibb county. When his son, +young Jim, ma'ied, old Marse Jim give me to him and he fetched me to +Perry county.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, old marster didn't go to war 'ca'se he was corrupted; he was +deaf in bofe ears and couldn't see good nuther. But he didn't care much +'bout me 'caze I was puny like and warn't much 'count in de field.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mistis, Miss Lou, was raisin' me up to be a carriage driver, an' she +was jes' as good to me as she could be. She useta dose me up wid castor +oil, jimson root, and dogwood tea when I'd be feelin' po'ly, and she'd +always take up for me when Marse Jim get in behind me 'bout somep'n. I +reckon though I was a purty worrisome nigger in dem days; always gettin' +in some kind of mischief.</p> +<p class="pnext">"O yassum, I useta go to meetin'. Us niggers didn't have no meetin' +house on de plantation, but Marse Jim 'lowed us to build a brush arbor. +Den two years atter de surrender I took consideration and j'ined up wid +de Lawd. Dat's how come I live so long. De Lawd done told me, 'Antn'y, +you got a hundred and twenty miles to trabel. Dat mean you gwine to live +a hundred and twenty years, if you stay on de straight an' narrow road. +But if you don't, you gotter go jes' de same as all de yuthers.'"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Tell me something about your master's slaves and his overseers," I +asked of him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well," he said, "Marse Jim had 'bout three hundred slaves, and he hed +one mighty bad overseer. But he got killed down on de bank of de creek +one night. Dey never did find out who killed him, but Marse Jim always +b'lieved de field han's done it. 'Fore dat us niggers useta go down to +de creek to wash ourselves, but atter de overseer got killed down +dar, us jes' leave off dat washin', 'cause some of 'em seed de +overseer's ha'nt down dar floatin' over de creek.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dar was another ha'nt on de plantation, too. Marse Jim had some trouble +wid a big double-j'inted nigger named Joe. One day he turn on Marse Jim +wid a fence rail, and Marse Jim had to pull his gun an' kill him. Well, +dat happen in a skirt of woods what I get my lightwood what I use to +start a fire. One day I went to dem same woods to get some 'simmons. +Another nigger went wid me, and he clumb de tree to shake de 'simmons +down whilst I be pickin' 'em up. 'Fore long I heared another tree +shakin' every time us shake our tree, dat other tree shake too, and down +came de 'simmons from it. I say to myself, 'Dat's Joe, 'cause he likes +'simmons too.' Den I grab up my basket and holler to de boy in de tree, +'nigger turn loose and drap down from dar, and ketch up wid me if you +can. I's leavin' here right now, 'cause Old Joe is over dar gettin' +'simmons too.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den another time I was in de woods choppin' lightwood. It was 'bout +sundown, and every time my ax go 'whack' on de lightwood knot, I hear +another whack 'sides mine. I stops and lis'ens and don't hear nothin'. +Den I starts choppin' ag'in I hears de yuther whacks. By dat time my +houn' dog was crouchin' at my feets, wid de hair standin' up on his back +and I couldn't make him git up nor budge.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dis time I didn' stop for nothin'. I jes' drap my ax right dar, an' me +and dat houn' dog tore out for home lickety split. When us got dar Marse +Jim was settin' on de porch, an' he say: 'Nigger, you been up to somep'n +you got no business. You is all outen breath. Who you runnin' from?' Den +I say: 'Marse Jim, somebody 'sides me is choppin' in yo' woods, an' I +can't see him. And Marse Jim, he say: 'Ah, dat ain't nobody but Ole Joe. +Did he owe you anythin'?' An' I say: 'Yassah, he owe me two-bits for +helpin' him shuck corn.' 'Well,' Marse Jim say, 'don't pay him no mind: +it jes' Old Joe come back to pay you.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Anyhow, I didn' go back to dem woods no mo'. Old Joe can jes' have de +two-bits what he owe me, 'cause I don't want him follerin' 'roun' atter +me. When he do I can't keep my mind on my business."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="molly-ammond-ammonds"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id67">Molly Ammond (Ammonds)</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Molly Ammond (Ammonds)</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">JESUS HAS MY CHILLUN COUNTED</em></p> +<p class="pnext">I walked along a dusty road under the blazing sun. In the shade of a +willow tree a Negro man was seated with his legs drawn up and his arms +crossed upon his knees. His head rested face downward upon his arms, as +he had the aspect of one in deep slumber. Beside him munching on a few +straggly weeds, a cantankerous mule took little notice of his +surroundings.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Can you tell me where Aunt Molly Ammonds lives?" I asked in a loud +voice. The Negro stirred slowly, finally raising his head, and +displaying three rabbit teeth, he accompanied his answer with a slight +gesture of his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, dar her house raght across de road; de house wid de climbin' +roses on hit."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Thank you," I said.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh," was the drawled response, and the Negro quickly resumed his +former posture.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Molly Ammonds is as gentle as a little child. Her voice is soft and +each phrase measured to the slow functionings of her aged mind.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-73"> +<span id="id2"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Molly Ammond (Ammonds)" src="images/image015ammond.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Molly Ammond (Ammonds), Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Honey," she said, "you ain't gwineter believe dis, but I is de mammy of +thirty chilluns. Jesus got 'em counted an' so is me. I was born in a log +cabin dat had a loft, an' it was on Marse Lee Cato's plantation five +miles wes' of Eufaula. My pappy's name was Tobe Cato an' my mammy's was +Sophia. I had one sister, Marthy, an' two brothers, Bong and Toge. My +pappy made all de furniture dat went in our house an' it were might' +good furniture too. Us useta cook on de fiahplace. Us would cook ash +cakes. Dey was made outen meal, water and a little pinch of lard; on +Sundays dey was made outen flour, buttermilk an' lard. Mammy would rake +all de ashes out de fiahplace, den kivver de cake wid de hot ashes an' +let it cool till it was done.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas Missy," she continued, "I recollects dat I was 'bout twelve or +fo'teen when de s'render come, kaze a little atter dat I ma'ied Pastor +Ammonds. We walked ober to Georgetown an' it was de fus' time I eber had +shoes, and I got dem fum ole Massa. I remembers dat I ma'ied in a +striped calico dress."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Molly," I said, "you're getting a little ahead of your story, tell +me something about your plantation life before the war."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, honey, Massa Lee's place was 'bout three miles long an' two miles +wide, and we raised cotton, cawn, 'taters and all sorts of vegetables. +We had a mean oberseer dat always wanted to whup us, but massa wouldn't +'llow no whuppin'. Sometimes de massa whould ride over de place on a +hoss, an' when he come up on de oberseer a-fussin' at a nigger, Massa +say, 'Don't talk rough to dat nigger when he doin' de bes' he can.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy had a little garden of his own back of his cabin, an' he +raised some chickens for us to eat, an' we had aigs nearly ev'y mornin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De only work I done on de plantation was to nuss some little niggers +when dere mammy an' pappy was in de fiel's. Twarn't hard.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh! I ain't never seed no slave in chains. Massa Lee was a good +man. He had a church built called de brush house, dat had a flo' and +some seats, an' a top made outen pine boughs, an' massa's pa, Mr. Cato, +would preach eve'y Sunday. We sung songs lak 'I Heered De Voice of Jesus +Say,' an' 'I'se Gwine to Die no Mo.' We was all babtized in de creek, +but none of us was taught to read or write.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No-suh, I ain't never seed no slave run away. Us was treated fine. Our +folks was quality. We had plenty som'n t'eat, but dem slaves hadda work +powerful hard though. Atter dey come home fum de fiel's dey was so +tired dat dey go raght to sleep, except when de massa had barbecues. +Christmas was de big time; dere was several days to res' an' make +merryin' an' lots of dem no count niggers got drunk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us slaves was sick, Massa Lee would send to Eufaula to fetch Dr. +Thornton to give us some medicine. We had de bes' treatment ever.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, white folks, dem days is long ago. All my chilluns done died or +wandered away an' my ole man been dead goin' on twenty years. I been +here a long time by myself."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Molly," I interrupted. "There's one thing I've always been wanting +to ask one of you ex-slaves, and that is: what you thought of people +like Abraham Lincoln, Jefferson Davis and Booker T. Washington."</p> +<p class="pnext">A puzzled expression came of the face of the old Negro. "White folks," +she said after a moments deliberation, "I don't believes I is had de +pleasure of meetin' dem gent'mens."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charity-anderson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id68">Charity Anderson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Charity Anderson</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Charity Anderson, who believes she is 101 years old, was born at Bell's +Landing on the Alabama River, where her owner, Leslie Johnson, operated +a wood-yard, which supplied fuel to the river steamers, and a tavern +where travelers whiled away the delays of a dubious riverboat schedule.</p> +<p class="pnext">Rheumatic and weak, she no longer ventures from her house in +Toulminville, on the outskirts of Mobile, but sits, with her turbaned +head and bespectacled eyes, rocking the long hours away in a creaky old +chair and knitting or sewing, or just gazing into a past painted by the +crackling flames in the fireplace.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-74"> +<span id="id3"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Charity Anderson" src="images/image018anderson.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Charity Anderson, Toulminville, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I has so much trouble gittin' up and down de steps and ober de groun', +I jist makes myself happy heah, cause—thank de Lawd—I'se on Zion's +March," is her resigned comment.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Missy, peoples don't live now; and niggers ain't got no manners, and +doan' know nothin' 'bout waitin' on folks. I kin remember de days w'en I +was one of de house servants. Dere was six of us in de ole Massa's +house—me, Sarai, Lou, Hester, Jerry and Joe. Us did'n' know nothin' but +good times den. My job was lookin' atter de corner table whar nothin' +but de desserts set. Joe and Jerry, dey was de table boys. Dey neber +tetched nothin' wid dere han's, but used de waiter to pass things wid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ole Massa was a good man. He treated all his slaves kind, and took +good kere of 'em. But, honey, all de white folks wan't good to dere +slaves. I's seen po' niggers 'mos' tore up by dogs and whupped 'tell dey +bled w'en dey did'n' do lak de white folks say. But, thank de Lawd, I +had good white folks and dey sho' did trus' me, too. I had charge of all +de keys to de house, and I waited on de Missis' and de chillun. I laid +out all de clo'se on Sat'dy night, and den Sunday mawnin's I'd pick up +all de dirty things. Dey did'n' have a thing to do. Us house servants +had a hahd job keepin' de pickaninnies out'er de dinin' room whar ole +Massa et, cause w'en dey would slip in and stan' by his cheer, w'en he +finished eatin' he would fix a plate for 'em and let 'em set on the +hearth.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No mam, Missy, I ain't neber worked in de fields. Ole Massa he neber +planted no cotton, and I ain't seen none planted 'tell after I was free. +But, honey, I could sho 'nuff wash, iron and knit and weave. Sometimes I +weaved six or seven yahds of cloth, and do my house work too. I lernt +the chillun how to weave, and wash, and iron, and knit too, and I's +waited on de fo'th generation of our fambly. I jes' wish I could tell +dese young chillun how to do. Iffen dey would only suffer me to talk to +dem, I'd tell dem to be more 'spectful to dere mammies and to dere white +folks and say 'yes mam' and 'no mam', instid of 'yes' and 'no' lek dey +do now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All dis generation thinks of is 'musement. I neber had seen a show in +my whole life 'tell jes' dis pas' yeah when one of dem carnival things +wid de swings, and lights, and all de doin's dey have stop right in +front of our house heah.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And I ain't neber been in no trouble in all my life—ain't been in no +lawsuits, and ain't been no witness eben. I allus treat ebrybody as good +as I kin, and I uses my manners as good as I knows how, and de Lawd sho' +has took good keer of me. Why, w'en my house burnt up, de white folks +helped me so dat in no time you couldn't tell I ebber los' a thing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But, honey, de good ole days is now gone foreber. De ole days was +railly de good times. How I wish I could go back to de days w'en we +lived at Johnson's landing on de riber, when de folks would come to +ketch de steamboats and we neber knowed how many to put on breakfas', +dinner or supper fo', cause de boats mought be behin' times. I ain't +neber had to pay a fare to ride a steamboat needer. I was a good lookin' +yaller gal in dem days and rid free wherever I wanted to go.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But whut's de use dreamin' 'bout de ole times? Dey's gone, and de world +is gettin' wicked'er and wicked'er, sin grows bolder and bolder, and +'ligion colder and colder."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gus-askew"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id69">Gus Askew</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Gus Askew</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dat was one time when de ban' was playin' and flags was flyin' dat us +lil' niggers didn't get no joy outen it." Gus Askew smiled at the +thought of the occasion as he sat on the sunny steps of his comfortable +house in Eufaula. Gus was telling about the investment of Eufaula during +the War between the States.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Gen'l Grierson and his men marched right through town," Gus went on +with his story of his boyhood. "Mr. Lincoln done said we was free, but +us lil' niggers was too skeered to lissen to any ban' music, even iffen +the so'jers had come to set us free. 'Pears like us was allus gittin' in +somebody's way in dem days and gittin' skeered of somepin'. But we went +on away from the so'jers and had a good time 'mongst ourselves like we +always done when there wasn't any cotton pickin'. Cotton pickin' time +was when we didn't have any chance to do any playin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After the surrender I didn't have to do any more cotton pickin' and I +went blacksmithin' for Joe Sturgis. He was the first blacksmith in dis +here town. I was the second. Now my son done took on de work. They ain't +so much sence all dese here automobiles done got so plentiful and might +'nigh ruint de business. But for seventy years I riz wid de sun and went +to dat blacksmith shop. I's enjoying a little misery now; so I's takin' +my rest."</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-75"> +<span id="id4"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Gus Askew" src="images/image021askew.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Gus Askew, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">Gus Askew was born a slave of the Edwards family in Henry County in +1853. He was brought to Eufaula just before the close of the war and +stayed on as a blacksmith after he was freed. In his seventy years of +hard work he saved enough to buy his home and some property which +maintains him and his wife since age and infirmity forced him to turn +over the work to his son. He has been married 54 years, numbers his +white friends by the hundreds and is held in great respect by his own +race.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="tom-baker"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id70">Tom Baker</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Tom Baker</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Sho, I recollects about de slabery days," said uncle Tom as he whittled +shavings from a soft piece of white pine. "I lived on a plantation down +in Perry County an' I remembers a story bout somp'n dat happen to me a +way back dar.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was a water boy for fifty fiel' han's dat worked in de sun all day +long, an' I hadda carry many a bucket from de spring dat was one fiel' +ober from where most of dem was workin'. De spring run down between some +willow trees an' it was powerful cool down dere in de shade. I use' to +lie on de moss an' let my bare belly git cool an' put my face in de +outlet of de spring an' let de water trickle over my haid. Jus' about de +time I gits a little rest one of dem niggers would call: 'Water boy! +Bring dat bucket!' Den I grab up de bucket an' run back out in de hot +sun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day, on my las' trip, I was mighty tired an' I flop down on dat +moss wid de sweat a-drippin' from my body, an' 'fo' I knowed it I done +fell slap to sleep. When I woke up, it was almos' dark, an' I couldn't +hear de slaves a-singing' in de fiel's, so I knowed dat dey had gone +home. I shake my haid, an' look about me, an' my eyes came to res' on a +little black bear cub a-drinkin' outen de spring. He so was a cute +little boogar an' I made up my mind right den to try an' kotch him. I +was jus' a little nigger 'bout ten year old an' didn't have no sense, +but I sho' wanted dat little bear. He ain't seed me a-settin' dere, so +I snuck up real cautious like, an' afore he knowed it I had dat little +debil a-squealin' in my han's. I was jus' about to start home wid him, +when I hears a rustlin' in de bushes an' afore I went ten feets, here +come a big, black bear a-lopin' along right outen dem willow trees. I +drop dat little critter 'caze I knowed dat was his mammy an' she was +ravin' mad. When I let de little feller fall it must have hurt him +somp'n awful caze he howl mo' dan eber, an' went a limpin' up to his +mammy. Well, suh, dat ole woman she got so mad she made fo' me lak two +bolts of lightnin', but dese here feets of mine begin a-doin' dere +stuff. I knowed she was a-gainin' on me so I lets out a whoop for help. +She chased me 'cross dat empty field an' 'bout dat time I seen big Jim +a-comin' through a row of cawn. 'Hurry Big Jim,' I calls, 'a bear is +atter me!' Big Jim was de biggest nigger on our place. He must have +weighed as much as half a bale of cotton. I was jus' 'bout gittin' to de +aidge of de cawn when dat bear ketched me. He give me a slap wid his paw +an' I goes down wid my mouf a-scoopin' up de dus'. My back felt like +somebody done put a hot iron on it. Dat bear was a mean one. I was +expectin' her to chaw me up an' I drawed my body up in a knot and +kivered my haid wid my hands an' waited. But dat bear neber touch me +agin'. I kinda snuck my eye aroun' an' I saw big Jim havin' it out wid +her. Jim, he had a long knife an' dey was a-tumblin' an' a-rollin' in de +dust, while I sot dere wid my eyes a-poppin' outen my haid an' my back +feelin' like it was broke. Jim he wrap his legs roun' dat bear an' 'fore +you knowed it he had done stuck dat ole critter a dozen times wid dat +knife.</p> +<p class="pnext">"About fifteen minutes later me an' Jim was a-walkin' back through de +cawn fiel' an' I guess we looked a sight, 'caze I was all tore up an' +Jim he looked like he done mess up wid a fambly of wildcats. He was +bleedin' from haid to foot. When we walked into de big house to git some +treatments an' medicine for our hurts, Mistis was a-standin' dere, and +when she seed me an' Jim, she almost faint. She say: 'Whut done happen +to my niggers?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter me an' Jim got fixed up I was jus' as happy, kaze I done seed de +bes' fight dere eber was, an' I had me a little orphan bear cub."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="henry-barnes"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id71">Henry Barnes</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Henry Barnes</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HE MISSES DEM 'SET-DOWN HAWGS'</em></p> +<p class="pnext">In Prichard, a suburb of Mobile, lives an old, blind Negro, "Uncle +Henry" Barnes, who says he was born in 1858, near Suggsville, Clarke +County, Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cose I was borned a slave, but I don't 'member much 'bout hit, 'caze I +was li'l. Dere is one t'ing I does 'member, an' dat was when dey cut +watermelons at de oberseer's house an' dey want us li'l niggers run +races to git our piece. I jes wouldn't run an' my mammy she whup me +'caze I so stubborn an' when I git my piece o' melon, I fly down de lane +whar our log cabins was. Dem cabins was daubed wid clay, an' de +chimbleys was built outten clay an' stick. Our beds was homemade an' had +t'ree legs wid de yuther side nail to de wall. I 'member atter I got a +big boy, my mammy had a bed made outten lumber an' I slep' in dat bed +'twel I was growed an' ma'ed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members us's Ole Mistis, Miss Dell. Miss Dell was a good Mistis an' +she useter hab Sunday School ebber' Sund'y mornin' at de Big House an' +all us li'l niggers went up dar for her to teach us 'bout de Bible an' +Jesus.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse John was good to all he slaves an' he wouldn't stan' no rush er +meanness to his niggers. Iffen de o'seer got mean, Ole Marster would +turn him off. Ole Marster allus tuk good keer of he slaves, 'caze when +dey got sick, he hab de doctor, jes lak when de white folks got sick. +One o' Marse John's boys, Marse Bennie, was a doctor, an' he was a good +doctor, cep'n' he gin us bad med'cin', but he cyured you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cose us hab our med'cin' sich lak elderbush tea. Hit was red 'mos' lak +whiskey an' us used hit for feber. Den dere was red sassafrac tea fer +spring feber, an' dey made Jerusalem oak candy full o' seeds an' gib to +de chilluns to eat so dey could git rid of worms. Den us had mullen an' +pine-top tea for colds an' feber. An' when us had a swellin' dey made a +poultice of mullen leabes to take de swellin' out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometimes I wishes dat I could be back to de ol' place, 'caze us did +hab plenty to eat, an' at hog-killin' time us had a mor'n a plenty. Ole +Marster kill eight or ten set-down hawgs at one time, an' de meat, an' +de lard an' de hawgjowl an' de chitt'lin's—m'm' I kin see 'em now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What a set-down hawg? Hit's a hawg what done et so much corn he got so +fat dat he feets can't hol' him up an' he jes set on he hin' quarters +an' grunts an' eats an' eats an' grunts, 'twell day knock him in de +head.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dem was sho' good times, 'caze us had all us could eat den, an' plenty +sugar cane to make 'lasses outten. An' dey made up biscuits in de big +wood trays. Dem trays was made outten tupelo gum an' dey was light as a +fedder. Us had plenty den, all de time, an' at Chris'mus an' when de +white folks get ma'ed, dey kill hawgs, turkeys, an' chickens an' +sometimes a yearlin'. En dey cook de hawgs whole, barbecue 'em an' fix +'em up wid a big apple in he mouf. When de big weddin' come off, de cook +in big pots, so's to hab 'nough for eber'body. Cose us didn't hab eaten' +lak dat all de time, 'caze de reg'lar rations was t'ree pound of meat +an' a peck of meal fer eber' han' from Sat'day twell Sat'day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De niggers was 'lowed to hab a li'l patch of dey own, dat dey could wuk +at night an' Sat'day ebenin'! What dey make on dis patch was dey'n, an' +Ole Marster pay 'em money for hit. Nobody didn't make de niggers wuk dey +patches—iffen dey want de grass to took 'em, dat's all right wid Ole +Marster. Ole Martser hab a big gyarden, 'mos' big as a fiel', whar dey +raise greens an' collards an' turnups fer de whole place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My granpappy was a carpenter an' Ole Marster contrac' him out to de +yuther plantations to build dey houses. De grown niggers had to be up +'fo' day. De oberseer blow he horn fust to git up by an' de nex' time he +blow dey hatter be ready to go to de fiel'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere was a ol' 'oman what kep' all de li'l niggers, whilst dey mammies +was in de fiel'. Dis ol' 'oman cooked fer de li'l uns an' fed 'em all +day, an' dey mammies tuk 'em at night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us's clo's was made outten osnaburg cloth an' dyed wid cop'rus an' +sometime dey mix terbaccy an' peach tree leabes wid de dye. Us had a big +orchard wid apples an' peaches an' pears, more'n us an' de hawgs +togedder could eat up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When a nigger died, dey was buried in de graveyard lak dey do now, an' +dey shouted an' hollered an' sometime a 'oman she faint an' hab to be +tote home. De song dey sing mos' at de fun'ral was: Hark from de Toom'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us sho' did hab plenty singin' o' hymns an' shoutin' at night in de +cabins. Iffen de men want to break a night res' he go possum huntin' or +rabbit huntin' jes' so he git pass from Ole Marster an' was at de fiel' +nex' mornin' on time wid de yuther han's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I knowed Ole Marster went to de war, 'caze I heerd de folks talkin' +bout hit an' wonder iffen Ole Marster gwine git kilt. Den I heerd 'em +say de niggers was free, but us didn't leave Ole Marster for 'bout a +year atter de s'render. Den us went to lib on de young mistis' place at +Barlow Bend, atter she ma'ed Mr. Bob Flynn. Right dar I stayed twell I +was grown and ma'ed. Den de fust move to town, us come up de Alabama +Ribber to James' Landin'. I members all de big boats on de ribber. Dey +sho' was fine 'uns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den, I 'members atter I growed up dey tell 'bout how de Yankees comin' +here an' how dey pester de white folks an' de niggers, too. Broke in dey +smoke-houses, burn 'em up an' t'row t'ings away an' lef' nobody nottin' +to eat. I don't 'member dat 'caze I was too li'l.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lady, you ax me iffen us knowed anyt'ng 'bout hoodoo? Yes, ma'am dere +sho' was folkses what could put spells on you. I sho' was skeered o' dem +kin' too. Atter I was nearly growed, dere was a gal name Penny what been +down sick a long time an' dere was a cunjer doctor wukkin' on her tryin' +cyure her, but her wan't 'greeable, so he let her die. Den a boy, name +Ed, he had a mis'ry in he foot, an' hit went up he leg an' he cripple. +Dere was a hoodoo doctor in de forks o' 'Bigbee Ribber come tend on him, +an' he tol' ebber'body git outten de house 'cep'n' him an' Ed an' de +Debil. He cyured Ed smack well.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy said I was borned wid a 'zernin' eye to see sperits, an' I +seed sump'n lak a cow wid no haid. So mammy made me stir de fresh lard +when dey was rendin' hit, 'caze dat cyures you of seein' de sperits. +Atter I stirred de lard, I didn't see 'em no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One time I was splittin' rails wid a nigger what could do anythin', but +he was a bad man an' I was 'feered of him. I tol' him, iffen I had a +pain or anything hurt me, I sho' would kill him wid my ax. I wudda split +dat nigger wide open, jes' lak I split dem rails, iffen he try dat +hoodoo on me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Talkin' 'bout fishin', I 'members when us would be plowin' down by de +ribber, when hit come dinner-time an' whilst de mules eatin', us go down +to de ribber an' fish. Den eb'ry Sat'day ebenin's us'd fish. Us kotch +trout, gyar, jack an' carp. May was when de carp bite. Dey was so fat +den dat you could cook em by deyse'f widout no grease. Den us ketch +turkeys in pole pens baited wid corn.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lor' what's de use me talkin' 'bout dem times. Dey all pas' an' gone. +Sometimes I gits to studyin' 'bout all de folks mos' is dead, an' I is +here yit, libin' an' blin'; but I 'spec's hit won't be long twell I is +ober de ribber wid de bles'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="nathan-beauchamp"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id72">Nathan Beauchamp</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Nathan Beauchamp</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, Eufaula, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HALF BREED</em></p> +<p class="pnext">I walked up a little path bordered with small stones, an atmosphere of +solitude surrounding me. In the sky, large, white cumulous clouds like +great bolls of cotton, floated leisurely northward. Far down the road a +ramshackle buckboard disappeared over a slight hill; directly in front +the path ran at twenty yards into the dilapidated steps of a Negro +cabin, while an old colored man in a vegetable garden to the left to the +cabin broke the stillness with the intermittent metallic sounds of his +spade digging into thirsty soil. I knew at a glance that this was Nathan +Beauchamp.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hello, Uncle Nathan," I called.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-76"> +<span id="id5"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Nathan Beauchamp" src="images/image031beauchamp.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Nathan Beauchamp, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Mornin', white folks," he answered, as he discontinued his spading and +raised his hand in a friendly gesture.</p> +<p class="pnext">I walked over to where Uncle Nathan was standing and stopped in the +little furrows of brown earth. Already a thick coat of dust had formed +on my shoes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Nathan," I said, "I'd like to have a brief chat with you about +slavery days, if you can spare a few minutes from your garden here?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, boss," he said, punctuating his reply with a spat of tobacco +that was soon nothing but a dark mark in the parched ground, "glad to be +of any 'sistance."</p> +<p class="pnext">We moved to the shade of a large oak where we sat down together on a +sturdy, home-made bench.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, white folks," he went on after taking a long turn at the dipper +hanging on the tree which shades a well. "I'll tell you a story of my +mammy an' pappy. Nathan Beauchamp, my pappy, belonged to Massa Green +Beauchamp at White Oak Springs, near Eufaula.</p> +<p class="pnext">Massa Green was a member of de legislature when de capital was at +Tuscaloosy. He had many a acre of land an' hund'eds of slaves. Pappy use +to dribe de wagon in to Eufaula to git supplies an' on de way he would +meet up wid an Injun gal a-carryin' big baskets dat she was a goin' to +sell dere. He would ask her iffen she wanted to ride, an' she always say +yes. So one day pappy came to de massa and tell him dat dere was an +Injun gal on de St. Francis Indian Village dat he wanted fo' a wife, an' +de boss say all right so pappy married de Indian gal. Her name was Mimi. +So I is half nigger an half Injun. My mammy died 'bout five year after +freedom, but I can remembers dat she had long black hair, and I +remembers de way de sun sparkle on her teeth when she smile. Atter she +married pappy, she still carried her pretty baskets to Eufaula to sell. +Sometime she walk all de way dere and back, twenty fo' miles. I been +libin' here in Eufaula fifty year or mo', white fo'ks, an' I owns my +little cabin an' de lan' around it. T'ain't much, but its enough to keep +me a-goin', dis wid de little sto' I owns."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="oliver-bell"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id73">Oliver Bell</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Oliver Bell</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DE BES' FRIEND A NIGGER EVER HAD</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Oliver Bell says the first thing he remembers was seeing his mother +whipped. He was born in slavery, but most of his knowledge of the evils, +as well as the joys of ante-bellum days, is by hearsay only.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was borned on de De Graffenreid Place," he said, "nine miles west of +Livingston-Boyd Road. My mother was Luella De Graffenreid an' my pappy +was Edmund De Graffenreid. Den dey changed my name to Bell. I had one +brother, Nat, an' two sisters, Jestina an' Clara. I has 'bout sixteen +chilluns, all born on de same place an' most of dem is livin' dere yit. +My chillun by my firs' wife are Ed, Jack, Holly, Buck, Clarence, Sally, +Liza, Mag an' Luella. Dey ma was Mandy Powell, frum York. Den my second +wife, Bettie Brown, gived me de res' of my chilluns. Le's see, dey is +Jimmy, J.W. Alfonso Wallace, Henry, Edna an' ——" He hesitated, +explained, "Dat's as many as I kin' 'member jest now.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-77"> +<span id="id6"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Oliver Bell" src="images/image033bell.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Oliver Bell, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"My gran'ma's name was Cely De Graffenreid an' my gran'pa's name +was Peter. He was a shoemaker fur de place an' made plows, too. He was +a worker an' he learnt me how to pull fodder an' chop corn an' cotton +when I was jest a little scamp jes' a little black nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us all b'longed to Mr. Tresvan De Graffenreid an' Mistus Rebecca; +an' dey was all good to us. Ol' Mistus read de Bible to us an' got us +baptized in de river at Horn's bridge, but dat was atter de surrender. In +slavery times dey didn't like for us to sing an play loud in de quarters. +Honey, I 'members when us had de big prayer meetin's. Dey would shut de +door so de voice won't git out, an' dey would turn de washpot down de door. +Dat was to keep de voice inside, dey tol' me."</p> +<p class="pnext">Oliver mused a moment, recalling the old times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us chilluns useta have a good time singin' an' a-playin'," he +said. "I 'members one of our little verses run somethin' lak dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Shoo, shoo, shoo gander</div> +<div class="line">Th'ow yo' feathers 'way yander.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Us had ol' corn hollers, too, but I fergits um now. I does remember +though you could hear dem niggers holler a whole mile.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, it warn't so bad wid us. De white folks was good to us niggers. +Us had 'nough to eat, lak greens, frum de big house. Us had our rations +weighted out; peck o' meal, three pounds of meat, half gallon of +'lasses, made at home in wodden mills; an' dat was for a week. An' +sometimes, on a Sunday us had a little sugar, coffee an' flour. No'm, us +didn't know what rice was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What I seed of slavery was a bad idea, I reckon, but ev'ybody thought +dey marster was de bes' in de lan'. Us didn't know no better. A man was +growed plum' green 'fo he knew de whole worl' didn't belong to his ol' +marster.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us didn't have no bought medicine in dem days; jes' whut us got outta +de woods lak slippery ellum fer fever an' poke salad root; dey he'p a +lot. An' May-apple root would he'p you same as castor oil.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Didn't nobody he'p us learn nothin' much, but mos' of my chilluns went +to Booker T's school. Dey say he's a mighty smart man, an' my chilluns +thinks so, too. It's all right; I wish I could read an' write; den I'd +tell you things you'd lak to know."</p> +<p class="pnext">His face clouded for the briefest moment.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tell you de fust thing I 'members, an' I don't know whut started it. +One day my mammy done sumpin' an' ol' marster made her pull her dress +down 'roun' her waist an' made her lay down 'crost de door. Den he taken +a leather strop an' whooped her. I 'members dat I started cryin' an' +Mistus Beckie said, 'Go git dat boy a biskit.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I reckerlecks my mammy was a plow han' an' she'd go to work soon an' +put me under de shade of a big ol' post-oak tree. Dere I sat all day, +an' dat tree was my nurse. It still standin' dere yit, an' I won't let +nobody cut it down.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mammy say I never did learn to walk; jes' one day she sot me down under +de oak, an' fust thing she knowed she look up an' dere I was walkin' +down de middle of a cotton row.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Nother thing I 'members when I was a little boy; dat dey was 'vidin' +de corn atter de s'render. Dr. DeGraffenreid measured de corn out to all +of 'em whut was share han's. He'd take a bushel an' give 'em a bushel. +When he mos' through he'd throw a ear of corn to dis one, an' give +himse'f a ear; den he break a ear in two, an' he take part an' give dem +part. Dat was close measurin', I tell you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us lived in de third house frum de big house in de quarter, an' when I +was a boy it was my job to set out shade trees. An' one day de Ku Klux +come ridin' by an' dey leader was Mister Steve Renfroe. (Alabama bandit +of Reconstruction days). He wore long hair an' he call my pappy out an' +ax him a heap of questions. While he sittin' dere his horse pull up nigh +'bout all de trees I done sot out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter talkin' to my pappy, he rode on 'cross Horn's bridge, 'bout two +miles souf of here, an' dere he met Ol' Man Enoch Sledge an' Frank +Sledge. Dey was darkies whut b'longed to Marsa Simmy Sledge's father, +Ol' Doctor Sledge. Slaves on dat plantation was 'lowed pretty good +privilege atter de s'rrender an' was workin' on halvens. Uncle Enoch an' +Frank was in town tradin' some, an' Mr. Renfroe didn't want 'em to have +anything. When dey lef' town, dey pass de Ku Kluxes raght on de slough +bridge. Mister Renfroe ax Enoch to give him a piece of string to fix his +saddle wid; den shot him. Frank run to de river, but de Ku Kluxes +cotched him an' shot him, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De niggers went down to de river dat night an' got de bodies an' buried +'em in de ol' Travis graveyard. My mammy an' daddy is buried dere, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Didn' nobody do nothin' 'bout Mister Renfroe 'till he went on an' got +to messin' wid Marsa Simmy Sledge's things; stole a pair of mules an' de +white folks rambled atter him 'till dey foun' him in Linden. Dey got so +hot atter him dat he went to his camp in de flat woods down on Bear +Creek. Dem was skeery times, 'case dat man never had no mercy for +nobody.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey's a cave down by de burial grounds whut de slaves dug when dey run +away, an' Mister Renfroe stayed dere. It's on de river bank an' its dug +up. You digs an' starts low an' pushes de dirt out an' digs up an' makes +a big room up so de water won't git you. I knows whar dey's two of de +caves on de place; my cow fell in one yestidy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Ol' Marster Amos Travis come out here from Californy, he taken a +lakin' to me an' wanted me to leave t'other side of de place an' move +down dis side of de big house to take keer of dis swamp an' look atter +de han's. But I wanted a big house wid four rooms an' two brick +chimneys, an' I had to talk five years to git it. I's got some +rosebushes now dat was at de big house raght atter de s'rrender, an' +dey's growin' in my yard now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Speakin' 'bout graveyard, I was passin' dere one night, ridin' on 'bout +midnight, an' sumpin' come draggin' a chain by me lak a dog. I got down +off'n my horse, but couldn't see nothin' wid no chain, so I got back on +de horse an' dere raght in front of me was a Jack-Me-Lantern wid de +brightes' light you ever seed. It was tryin' to lead me off, an' ev'y +time I'd git back in de road it would lead me off ag'in. You sho' will +git los' if you follow a Jack-Me-Lantern.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One of dem led a man down to de creek by dem double bridges; said he +foun' he was travelin' in de wrong direction, gittin' frum home stidder +clo'ster, so he jes' sit down under a tree an' waited 'til daylight. I +ain't skeered of nothin' but dem Jack-Me-Lanterns, but dey stirs you up +in yo' min' till you can't tell whar you's at; an' dey's so bright dey +nigh 'bout puts yo' eyes out. Dey is plenty of 'em over by de graveyard +raght over yonder whar all my white folks is buried, an' mammy an' +pappy, too. Dey's all dere 'cept Marsa Jess Travis; he was de nex' whut +come in line for de place, an' he was de bes' frein' dis here nigger +ever had.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Fac' was, dat's whut he call me; 't was 'nigger'. He an' Mistus Mag +lived raght dere in de big house; den dey move into town an' dat's whar +he died. Me an' Marsa Jess made a 'greement an' he said if he was de +longes' liver, he'd see me buried, an' if I be de longes' liver, I see +him buried. So dat day I went to his office in de co'thouse an' he say +he want to talk wid me. He say, 'You 'members us 'greement?' An' I say, +'Whut 'greement, Marsa Jess?' An' he say, 'Bout buryin'.' Den I say, +sho', 'I 'members dat.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den he got up an' give me some papers 'bout some lan', an' I say, 'Whut +do all dis here mean, Marse Jess?' He say, 'nothin', nigger, 'cept I's +jes' goin' outta business.' Den I say, 'Goodbye, Marse Jess,' an' he +say, 'Goodbye, nigger,' an' I walked on 'crost de street. Den Mr. +Killian say, 'Oliver, whut's happened over at de co'thouse?' An I say, +'Ain't nothin' as I knows of.' Den he say, 'Yes, dey is; jes' look at de +peoples gwine in a hurry.' Den I turn 'roun' an' run back an' dere lay +Marse Jess. Mr. Smith was gettin' him up an' Marse Jess say to me, +'Well, nigger, I didn't do whut I tended to; I missed it.' An' I say, +'Boss, fer God's sake go to de hospital; I'll go wid you an' stay wid +you.' Mistus Mag, she ast me to beg him, but he shuck his head an' say +'If I had a-wanted to live I wouldn't of shot myself.' He res' a minit, +den say, 'Nigger, write Miss Calline an' tell her I says to always be +good to you as long as you lives.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I was raght dere, done jes' whut I tol' him I'd do; kep' my +'greement an' followed him to de grave. Co'se dat last 'bout Marse Jess +ain't no slavery tale, but I thought you was atter hearin' all 'bout de +family whut owned dis ol' place; an' Marse Jess was de bes' white frein' +a nigger ever had; dis nigger, anyhow."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="nelson-birdsong"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id74">Nelson Birdsong</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Nelson and Virginia Birdsong</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Summerville, on Front Street</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">NELSON BIRDSONG REMEMBERS HIS MASTER</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Nelson Birdsong, who lives on Front Street in the old suburb of +Summerville, about three miles from Mobile, Alabama, was born +a slave. A tall dark Negro man, with white hair and whiskers, +he says he was born at Montgomery Hill, Alabama in Baldwin +County, and that his people and he were owned by Mr. Tom Adkins.</p> +<p class="pnext">Nelson said he was very small at the time of the Surrender, and could +not tell very much about slavery days. In fact, he adds, "You know, +missie, old folks in dem days did'nt 'low chillun to stan' 'roun' when +dey was talking. We chillun was lack a shot out of a gun when anybody +come in. We was glad when folks come in 'cause we c'ud run out an' play. +Chillun now-a-days knows as much as we did when we was twenty-five years +old."</p> +<p class="pnext">Nelson does remember his "massa" saying he neber was going to 'let dat +little nigger work.'</p> +<p class="pnext">He did not remember much about coming to Mobile, but "seemed lack" his +"mammy worked for Mrs. Dunn on Monroe street, and later dey moved out in +old Napoleonville" (which is now Crichton, Alabama, a suburb of +Mobile). He said his "Pa and Mammy den worked fo' gris' mill out dere, +and also owned a big gris' mill in de fork whar de big fire station is +now" (which is located at the intersection of St. Francis street and +Washington Avenue, the latter formerly Wilkinson street). This grist +mill was burned in the 1870's.</p> +<p class="pnext">Nelson says the first work he remembered doing was "nussing a baby boy +of Mr. Bramwell Burden, a gran'son of old man Burden."</p> +<p class="pnext">Nelson has owned his little farm and three-room house until the past two +or three years. He said he scuffled and tried to pay de taxes, but had +got so old and his "knees had give out on him, and I seed I was agoin' +to lose mah place so I turned it over to a man to keep up mah taxes, so +I'd have a place to lib. De relief gibes me a little he'p now, an' me +an' my wife makes out de bes' we can."</p> +<p class="pnext">The house is the familiar type of two-room Negro house, with a porch +across the front, and a shed room on the back. The bedroom had been +papered with scraps of wallpaper of varied designs and so old that most +of it had fallen off. The mantel is covered with the colored comics +section, cut in a fancy pattern of scallops. At the entrance of the +house is a sack nailed to the floor and used for a foot mat, and at the +two upper corners of the door are horse shoes for good luck. Nelson said +he is a member of the African Methodist Episcopal Zion Church, and has +been a Methodist all his life; that he and his wife Virginia "had only +two chillun' and dey were bofe dead."</p> +<p class="pnext">Nelson's wife, Virginia, came from a family of slaves, although she was +not one herself. She said her folks were owned by Mr. Joe Pickett of +Camden, Wilcox County, Alabama. She said she just can remember Mr. Joe +taking her in his buggy, and she called him "Toe-Toe," as she couldn't +say his name plainly. She also said as she grew older she always spoke +of Mr. Joe, as "my Papa," instead of "my master," for "he sho' was good +to me." She remembers her mother being chambermaid on the "Old +Eleanora," a boat on the Alabama river, and as a small child going back +and forth on the boat with her. When they finally settled in Mobile, her +mother worked for the family of Dr. Heustis who lived in the corner +house now occupied by the new Federal Court House and Custom House, at +St. Louis and St. Joseph streets.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ank-bishop"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id75">Ank Bishop</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ank Bishop</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">GABR'EL BLOW SOF'! GABR'EL BLOW LOUD!</em></p> +<p class="pnext">When "Gabr'el take his silver trump," he is going to blow soft for the +saved and loud for the lost souls, according to Ank Bishop who was born +into slavery eighty-nine years ago, and lives in Livingston, Alabama. +The days before the war were as good as the present, Ank believes. He +tells of them in the following story of his life:</p> +<p class="pnext">"My name is Ank Bishop, en I was born in 1849, August 16th, at Ward, +Alabama. My mother's name was Amy Larken, an' my father was Tom Bishop. +I had three brothers, Alf, Volen an' Jim, an' two sisters, Cely an' +Matildy. Us belonged to Lady Liza Larkin at Ward, right nigh Coke's +Chapel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother was brought out from South Car'lina in a speculator drove, +an' Lady Liza bought her at de auction at Coke's Chapel. She lef' her +mammy an' daddy back dere in South Car'lina an' never did see 'em no +more in dis life. She was bidded off an' Lady Liza got her, jes' her one +from all her family. She was got fer Lady Liza's house gal. But +sometimes she cooked or was de washer, den ag'in de milker. 'Twas my job +for to min' de ca'ves. Sometimes I went to Mr. Ed Western's sto' at +Gaston, three miles from us house, to see iffen was any mail for Lady +Liza, but 'twa'n't none.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey was good to us 'caze Lady Liza's son, Mr. Willie Larkin, was de +overseer for his ma, but co'se sometime dey git among 'em an' thrashed +'em out. One time one de niggers runned away, old Caesar Townsy, an' dey +sarnt for Dick Peters to come an' bring his "nigger dogs." Dem dogs was +trained to ketch a nigger same as rabbit dogs is trained to ketch a +rabbit. So Mr. Willie Larkin told Stuart for to say to old man Dick +Peters when he come, 'I'm gone,' but for him to come on. 'I'm gwineter +keep de road,' he say, 'an' cross 'Bigbee at Moscow landin'.' So ol' +Dick Peters, he kept de road lack he tole him to, an' he cross 'Bigbee +at Moscow landin' over in de cane-brake. But dem nigger dogs didn't +never ketch ol' man Caesar. He stayed right wharever he was at 'twell +after S'render, an' de War done ceased. Den he come out, but iffen he +had a been caught, dey'd a used him up pretty rough, but he stayed hid +twell de time done passed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All de women on Lady Liza's place had to go to de fiel' ev'y day an' +dem what had suckerlin' babies would come in 'bout nine o'clock in de +mawnin' an' when de bell ring at twelve an' suckerlin' 'em. One woman +tended to all of 'em in one house. Her name was Ellie Larkin, an' dey +call her 'Mammy Larkin.' She all time sarnt me down in de fiel' for to +git 'em come suckle de chillen, 'caze dat made hit hard on her when dey +gets hongry an' cry.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us didn't get to go to church none, an' us wa'n't larnt nothin'. I'm +nigh 'bout ninety an' I can't read a line. I got some chillun kin read; +one can't whut is sixty-five, but Henry he fifteen an' he kin. De ma, +she go by de name of Pearlie Beasley, she can't read neither, but she's +a good fiel' han' an' she patched dese breeches I'm wearin' an' dis ole +shirt. Miss, I ain't got a coat to my name. Can't go to church, so I +doan' know dat dis any better'n slav'y time. Hit's hard, anyway you got +to travel, got yo' nose on de groun' rock all de time. When pay day +come, ain't nothin' pay wid. Come git de rent, den you out do's ag'in. +Bred an' bawn in Sumter County, wore out in Sumter County, 'specks to +die in Sumter County, an' whut is I got? Ain't got nothin', ain't got +nothin', ain't got nothin'.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-78"> +<span id="id7"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Ank Bishop" src="images/image041bishop.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Ank Bishop, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"But I'm a believer, an' dis here voodoo an' hoodoo an' sper'ts ain't +nothin' but a lot of folk's outten Christ. Ha'nts ain't nothin' but +somebody died outten Christ an' his sper't ain't at res', jes' in a +wand'rin' condition in de world.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dis is de evil sper't what de Bible tells about when hit say a person +has got two sper'ts, a good one an' a evil one. De good sper't goes to a +place of happiness an' rest, an' you doan' see hit no mo', but de evil +sper't ain't got no place to go. Hit's dwellin' place done tore down +when de body died, an' hit's jes' a wand'rin' an a waitin' for Gabr'el +to blow his trump, den de worl' gwineter come to an en'. But when God +say, 'Take down de silver mouf trump an' blow, Gabr'el,' an' Gabr'el +say, 'Lord, how loud shell I blow?' Den de Lord say, 'Blow easy, +Gabr'el, en ca'm, not to 'larm my lilies.' De secon' time Gabr'el say, +'How loud mus' I blow, Lord?' Den de Lord say, 'Blow hit as loud as +seben claps of thunder all added into one echo, so as to wake up dem +damnable sper'ts sleepin' in de grave-ya'ds what ain't never made no +peace wid dey God, jes' alayin' dere in dey sins.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"But de Christ'en Army, hit gits up wid de fus' trump, an' dem +what is deef is de evil ones what anybody kin see anytime. I ain't +skeered of 'em, though. I passes 'em an' goes right on plowin', +but iffen you wants 'em to git outten your way, all you gotter do +is jes' turn your head least bit an' look back. Dey gone jes' lack +dat! When my fus' wife died 'bout thirty years ago, I was goin' up +to Gaston to see Sara Drayden, ole Scot Drayden's wife, an' I tuck +out through Kennedy bottom 'bout sundown right after a rain. I +seed sompin acomin' down de road 'bout dat high, 'bout size a little +black shaggy dog, an' I says, 'What's dat I sees commin' down de +road? Ain't nobody 'roun' here got no black shaggy dog? Hit kep' +a-comin' an' kep' a-gittin' bigger an' bigger an' closer an' closer, +an' time hit got right to me 'twas as big as a ha'f growed yearlin', +black as a crow. It had four feet an' drop years, jes' lack a dog, +but 'twa'n't no dog, I knows dat. Den he shy out in de bushes, an' +he come right back in de road, an' hit went on de way I was comin' +from, so I went on de way hit was comin' from. I ain't never seed +dat thing no mo'. But I'ze gotter pretty good notion 'bout who +hit 'twas."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="siney-bonner"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id76">Siney Bonner</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Siney Bonner</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.F. Jordan</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Hear dat whistle?" The speaker was Siney Bonner, an ex-slave, now +living in the Norwood section of Birmingham. She had stopped for a +"confab" where a group of other elderly Negroes of the neighborhood had +gathered. "De whistles on dem Big Jacks what pull dese highsteppin' I.C. +trains mind me of dem steamboats what used to pull up at de landin' at +ole Pickensville on de Tombigbee River.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Cose dar wa'n't no railroads dem days an' de onlies' way folks had +trabbelin' about was de steamboat which passed most every week, and de +stage coach which passed twice a week.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lawsy, man, dem was de days, and many de time atter my daddy, whose +name was Green Bonner, heard dat steamboat blow below Pickensville, he +would hitch up de mules to de waggin and foller Massa John on hossback +down to de landin' to fetch back de supply of sugar and coffee and +plow-tools needed on de plantation. Dey would take me 'long to hold de +mules and watch de waggin and it was a reglar picnic to me to see de big +shiney boat and watch de goin's on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa John Bonner sho' did 'pend on my daddy. De massa paid a thousand +green-back dollars for him down to Mobile. 'Nuf green-backs to wrap him +up in, he said, so he named him Green Bonner.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes suh, we was all Baptis'—de deep water kind, and every Sunday dey +used to pile us into de waggins and pull out bright and early for Big +Creek Church on the Carrollton road. Everybody fetched a big basket of +grub and, sakes alive! sech another dinner you never see, all spread out +on de grassy grove by de ole graveyard. Mos' all de quality white folks +belonged at Big Creek and when dere slaves got sho' nuff 'ligion, dey +have 'em jine at Big Creek and be baptized at de swimmin' hole. Some of +de niggers want to have dere own meetin's, but Lawd chile, dem niggers +get happy and get to shoutin' all over de meadow where dey built a brush +arbor. Massa John quick put a stop to dat. He say, 'if you gwine to +preach and sing you must turn de wash pot bottom up'; meanin', no +shoutin'. Dem Baptis' at Big Creek was sho' tight wid dere rules too. +Turn you out sho' if you drink too much cawn licker, or dance, or cuss.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa John had a big fine bird dog. She was a mammy dog and one day she +foun' six puppies out in de harness house. Dey was mos' all girl puppies +so massa gwine drown 'em. I axed him to give 'em to me and purty soon de +missus sent me to de pos'office, so I put de puppies in a basket and +took 'em wid me. Dr. Lyles come by whar I was settin' and he say, 'Want +to sell dem pups, Siney?' I tell him, uh-huh. Den he say, 'What +'nomination is dey?'. I tell him, dey's Methodis' dogs. He didn' say no +mo'. Bout a week atter dat ole missus sent me to 'de pos'office again, +so I took my basket of puppies. Sho' nuff, 'long come Dr. Lyles and he +say, 'Siney, see you still ain't sold dem pups'. I say, 'Naw-suh'. Den +he axed me ag'in what 'nomination dey b'long to. I tole him dey was +Baptis' dogs. He say, 'How come? You tole me las' week dem was Methodis' +pups'. Ha-ha! Bless God!, look like he had me. But I say, 'Yas-suh, but +you see, Doctah, dey got dere eyes open since den!' He laff and go on +down to his newspaper office.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-79"> +<span id="id8"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Siney Bonner" src="images/image045bonner.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Siney Bonner, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"How old is I? Law chile, I don't know. My mammy say I was fifteen year +old time of de surrender. I 'members dat mighty well. Massa John call +all de niggers on de plantation 'round him at de big house and he say +to 'em 'Now, you all jes' as free as I is. I ain't your marster no mo'. +I'se tried to be good to you and take keer of all of you. You is all +welcome to stay and we'll all wuk togedder and make a livin' somehow. Ef +you don' want to stay, dem dat go will jes' have to root, pig, or die.' +Some stayed and some lef'. My daddy stayed wid Marse John till he was +called home to glory. Now dey all gone but Siney, and I'se jes' here, +waitin' for 'em to call me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas suh, I been 'round Carrollton a heap. Atter Marse John and my daddy +bofe died, I wuk'd 'round from place to place. Used to wuk for Mrs. +Roper at de old Phoenix Hotel. I recollect when de new brick court house +was built. De ole court house had been burned and dey 'rested a nigger +named Bill Burkhalter for settin' it on fire. Dey sent him to de pen' +an' some officers started wid him to Montgomery. When dey got to Sipsey +River a mob ketched up wid 'em an' took Bill and hung him dere in the +swamp. 'Bout dat time a bad cloud come up. Dey axed Bill did he have +anything to say. He say, 'I ain't burn no court house, an' ef you all +kill me, my face gwine always ha'nt you'. Whilst he still hangin' dere +in dat swamp de lightnin' flash and de thunder an' wind was somp'n +awful. Nex' mornin' when de sun come up, bless my soul, right dere on de +winder in de court house tower was a photygraf of de face of de nigger +dey done hung for burnin' de old court house. Yas suh, I done seen dat +wid my own eyes an' I speck dat picture still dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But lawsy me, I got to get goin', kase I'se cookin' me a mess of poke +sallet I picked down by de railroad tracks dis mornin'. Dat poke sallet +and young ernions gwine to be mighty good, and dey sho 'mind me of dem +good old days in Pickens county."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jennie-bowen"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id77">Jennie Bowen</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jennie Bowen</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">NO BELL BRUNG HIM</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Jennie Bowen was surrounded by numerous little colored children as I +came upon her sitting on her front porch. She answered my questions +through a mouth void of teeth and with a constant blinking of her brown +eyes with their muddy whites. Her little grand-child had to act to some +extent as an interpreter, as her speech was at times most indistinct.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I remembers lots of things dat happened back in de days of de +Cibil War," she said. "I remembers de place whar I lived. It were de +prettiest house you ever seed. It were on a high hill overlooking a +small creek and de flowers 'roun' in de yard was somp'n to see, sho' +'nuff.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was bawn in 1847 on Massa Fisher's and Mistis Fisher's plantation +near Camden, Alabama. Us slaves lived in a row of whitewashed cabins in +de rear of de big house. We useta have a mean oberseer, white folks, an' +all de time dere was slaves on our place a runnin' away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I acted as nuss for massa's three chilluns, an' dey learnt me to read +an' write. My pappy was named Burl Fisher an' he come f'um Virginny when +Cap'n Fisher brung him. My mammy was named Grace Fisher, an' she was +'roun' de big house mos' of de time a weavin' an' a cardin' wool for de +slaves, who wo' calico spun in de summer an' wool in de winter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An ole nigger man rung a bell for us to get up by, an' to call de fiel' +han's in de evenin's. Atter Surrender, dis ole nigger stayed right on de +plantation an' was a workin' in de fiel's one day when de Fisher boy +rung de bell for de niggers to come in. All of 'em came 'cep'n dis ole +man an' later on dey ax him why he don't come when dey ring de bell. He +answer: 'Tain't no mo' bell ringin' for dis nigger, 'caze I is free.'</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-80"> +<span id="id9"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Jennie Bowen" src="images/image048bowen.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Jennie Bowen, Mobile, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"De Fishers was Pres'terians an' dey had dere own church on de place. +Eve'ybody had to go on Sunday; de white folks sittin' in de front, de +colored folks in de back. De onl'es' holidays us niggers had was +Chris'mas an' New Years. On dese days us all exchanged gif's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy an' mammy atter de war farmed on shares wid Cap'n Fisher. I +was ma'ied 'bout dis time, white folks, to Sam Bowen, who long been +daid. Us had a big weddin' an' de two Mistis Fishers (Massa's daughters) +baked us a cake an' I sont a piece to all my white frien's for dem to +dream on. Atter I come to Mobile, I changed my 'ligion to bein' a +Babtist.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I had ten chilluns, but seven of dem is daid. I is even got fo' great +gran' chilluns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, us had po' white trash back in dem days of de war. Dey lived +near our place, an' some of 'em didn't have no niggers at all. Dey +worked deyse'f in de fiel's. Us didn't fool 'long wid dem kinds of +people dough, white folks. Us kep' mostly to ourselves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, us house niggers et in de kitchens, dat was separated f'um de +main buildin' by a walkway, kivered at de top but not at de sides. All +de slave chilluns had a grown nigger woman and a young gal 'bout sixteen +to look atter dem. We-alls had a good time an' us was happy an' +secure."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="nannie-bradfield"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id78">Nannie Bradfield</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Nannie Bradfield</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">WHAT I KEER ABOUT BEIN' FREE?</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Nannie Bradfield is a fat little old woman almost as broad as she is +long, with a pleasant face and a broad smile which displays white teeth +still good at the age of eighty-five. She lives alone in a dilapidated +cabin which rests in a clump of trees by the side of the railroad. The +sagging roof is patched with pieces of rusty tin of many shapes and +sizes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nannie," I said, "aren't you afraid to live here alone?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"How come I be skeered? Ain't nobody gwine bother me lessen it be a +spirit, and dey don't come 'roun' 'cep'n on rainy nights, den all you +got to do is say 'Lawd have mercy! What you want here,' and dey go 'way +and leave you 'lone.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Any how I's gittin' pretty old and I won't be here so ve'y much longer +so I jes' as well start gittin' 'quainted wid de spirits."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Tell me something about yourself and your family, Nannie," I said. +"Dere ain't nothin' much to tell 'cep I was born in slav'y times and I +was 'bout twelve year old in May when 'mancipation come. My Pa and Ma +b'longed to Mars James and Miss Rebecca Chambers. Dey plantation was +jes' on de aidge of town and dat's what I was born. Mars James' son +William was in de war and old Miss would send me to town whar all de +sojers tents was, to tote sompen good to eat to dem. I don't 'member +much 'bout de war 'cep de tents and de bum shells shootin'. I was little +and couldn't do much but I waited on Miss Liz'beth, my young Miss, and +waited on table, toted battie cakes and sich like. No ma'am I don't +know nothin' 'tall 'bout de patterollers or de Klu Kluxers but I know +all 'bout de conjer doctors. Dey sho' kin fix you. Dey kin take yo' +garter or yo stockin' top an drap it in runnin' water and make you run +de res' of yo' life, you'll be in a hurry all de time, and if dey gits +holt of a piece of de seat of yo' draw's dey sprinkles a little conjer +powder on it and burns it den you can't never set down in no peace. You +jes' like you settin' on a coal of fiah 'till you git somebody to take +de spell offen you."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nannie, were you glad when the war was over and you were free?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"What I keer 'bout bein' free? Didn't old Marster give us plenty good +sompin to eat and clo's to wear? I stayed on de plantation 'til I +mah'ied. My old Miss give me a brown dress and hat. Well dat dress put +me in de country, if you mah'ie in brown you'll live in de country."</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Marry in brown you'll live out of town?'" I quoted. "Dat's it—my +remembrance ain't so good and I fergits.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No ma'am, I ain't got no chillun, but Bradfield had plenty un um, I was +his fouf wife. He died 'bout three years ago and he done well to live +dat long wid all dem wimmens to nag him. De Bible say it's better to +climb on top of the house and set, den to live inside wid a naggin' +'oman."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="martha-bradley"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id79">Martha Bradley</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Martha Bradley</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mabel Farrior, Montgomery, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">IN SLAVERY TIME</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Martha—as she is known to all her "white folks"—claims to be 100 +years old. She was a slave to Dr. Lucas of Mt. Meigs neighborhood long +before the War between the States. Dr. Lucas is one of the well known +Lucas family, with whom General LaFayette spent some time while touring +the United States in 1824.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our Marster wuz sho good to all his 'niggers'," she said. "Us allus had +plenty to eat and plenty to wear, but de days now is hard, if white +folks gin you a nickel or dime to git you sumpin' t' eat you has to +write everything down in a book before you can git it. I allus worked in +the field, had to carry big logs, had strops on my arms and them logs +was put in de strop and hauled to a pile where they all was. One morning +hit was rainin' ad I didn' wanna go to the field, but de oversee' he +come and got me and started whooping me. I jumped on him and bit and +kicked him 'til he lemme go. I didn't know no better then. I didn't know +he was de one to do dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But Marster Lucas gin us big times on Christmas and July. Us 'ud have +big dinners and all the lemonade us could drink. The dinner'd be spread +out on de ground an' all the niggers would stand roun' and eat all dey +wanted. What was lef' us'd take it to our cabins. Nancy Lucas was de +cook fer eber' body. Well, she'd sho cook good cake and had plenty of +'em but she wouldn't lak to cut dem cakes often. She keep 'em in a safe. +One day I go to dat safe and I seed some and I wanted it so bad till I +jes' had to have some. Nancy say to me, 'Martha, did you cut dat cake?' +I say, 'No sir! dat knife just flew 'roun by itself and cut dat cake.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day I was workin' in de field and de overseer he come 'roun and say +sumpin' to me he had no bizness say. I took my hoe and knocked him plum +down. I knowed I'se done sumpin' bad so I run to de bushes. Marster +Lucas come and got me and started whoopin' me. I say to Marster Lucas +whut dat overseer sez to me and Marster Lucas didn' hit me no more. +Marse Lucas was allus good to us and he wouldn' let nobody run over his +niggers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"There was plenty white folks dat was sho bad to de niggers, and +specially dem overseers. A nigger whut lived on the plantation jinin' +ours shot and killed an overseer; den he run 'way. He come to de river +and seed a white man on udder side and say, 'Come and git me.' Well, +when dey got him dey found out whut he'd done, and was gwine to burn him +'live. Jedge Clements, the man dat keep law and order, say he wouldn't +burn a dog 'live, so he lef'. But dey sho burn dat nigger 'live for I +seed him atter he was burned up.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-81"> +<span id="id10"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Martha Bradley" src="images/image052bradley.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Martha Bradley, Montgomery, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Us'd go to meetin' to de Antioch Church some Sundays. Us'd go to de +house and git a pass. When us'd pass by the patterole, us jes' hold up +our pass and den us'd go on. Dar was a 'vidin' 'twixt de niggers and de +white folks. De white preacher'd preach; den de colored man. Us'd stay +at church most all day. When we didn' go to church, us'd git together in +the quarters and have preachin' and singin' amongst ourselves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In cotton pickin' time us'd stay in de field till way atter dark and +us'd pick by candle light and den carry hit and put hit on de scaffold. +In de winter time us'd quilt; jes' go from one house to anudder in de +quarter. Us'd weave all our ever' day clothes but Marster Lucas'd go to +Mobile ever' July and Christmas and git our Sunday clothes, git us +dresses and shoes and we'd sho be proud of 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In slavery time dey doctored de sick folks dif'funt frum what dey does +now. I seed a man so sick dey had to put medicine down his tho'at lak he +was a horse. Dat man got well and sho lived to turn a key in de jail. Ef +it was in dese days dat man would be cay'd to de hospital and cut open +lak a hawg.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere was a slave whut lived in Macon county. He run 'way and when he +was catched dey dug a hole in de ground and put him crost it and beat +him nigh to death."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="allen-brown"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id80">Allen Brown</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Allen Brown</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">IS NIGH A HUNDERD</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Allen is a thin little man with a short white beard that hides +nothing of his ready, toothless smile always evident when conversing +with "de white folks" and contributes to his dignified mien when +solemnly lecturing to "de niggers" about their "no 'count ways." He is +as deaf as the proverbial post, and, once launched into a discourse, +rambles on to its end without regard to interruptions. Asked to tell +something of his early life, he said:</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-82"> +<span id="id11"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Allen Brown" src="images/image054brownallen.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Allen Brown, Eufala, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I is nigh on to a hundred yeahs old, Suh, and I was brung to dis +country from Virginny whar I was bawn. My mammy's mahster was movin' +from Virginny to Texas, and when he go dis fur he sole me and my mammy +to Mahster McRea. Den Mahster McRea he give me to Miss Julia; den Miss +Julia she mah'ied Mahs Henry Young and I was dere ca'iage driver. Mahs +Henry soon went off to de wawh and was kilt in de battle of Gettysbu'g +and dat nearly bout kilt Miss Julia.</p> +<p class="pnext">"A'ter de Surrender nothin' neber was de same. Jest hahd times mos'ly. +Neber been any times lak de days when I was drivin' my ca'iage amongst +de Eufaula high steppers, and I reckon dere neber will be ag'in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De ole man too ole and bruck down to wuhk now, and I gits along wid +whut de Welfare gives me."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gus-brown"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id81">Gus Brown</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Gus Brown</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Alexander B. Johnson, Birmingham, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">GUS SAW MASSA'S HAT SHOT OFF</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"They is all gone, scattered, and old massa and missus have died." That +was the sequence of the tragic tale of "Uncle" Gus Brown, the body +servant of William Brown; who fought beside him in the War between the +States and who knew Stonewall Jackson.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Gus" recalled happenings on the old plantation where he was +reared. His master was a "king" man, he said, on whose plantation in +Richmond, Virginia, Uncle Gus waited on the tables at large feasts and +functions of the spacious days before the War. He was entrusted to go +with the master's boys down to the old swimming hole and go in "washin." +They would take off their clothes, hide them in the bushes on the side +of the bank, put a big plank by the side of the old water hole and go in +diving, swimming and have all the fun that youngsters would want, he +said.</p> +<p class="pnext">Apparently his master's home was a plantation house with large columns +and with all the glitter and glamour that the homes around Richmond have +to offer. About it were large grain storage places for the master was a +grain dealer and men on the plantation produced and ground large +quantities into flour.</p> +<p class="pnext">Gus worked around the house, and he remembers well the corn shuckings as +he called them on which occasions the Negroes gave vent to emotion in +the form of dancing and music. "On those occasions we all got together +and had a regular good time," he said.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle," he was asked, "do you remember any of the old superstitions on +the plantation? Did they have any black cat stories?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"No sir, boss, we was educated Negroes on our plantation. The old +bossman taught his Negroes not to believe in that sort of thing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I well remember when de war came. Old massa had told his folks befo' de +war began dat it was comin', so we was ready for it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Beforehand the master called all the servants he could trust and told +them to get together all of the silver and other things of value. They +did that, he explained and afterward they took the big box of treasures +and carried it out in the forest and hid it under the trunk of a tree +which was marked. None of the Negroes ever told the Yankees where it was +so when the war ended the master had his silver back. Of course the war +left him without some of the things which he used to have but he never +suffered.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Then de war came and we all went to fight the Yankees. I was a body +servant to the master, and once a bullet took off his hat. We all +thought he was shot but he wasn't, and I was standin' by his side all +the time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remember Stonewall Jackson. He was a big man with long whiskers, and +very brave. We all fought wid him until his death.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We wan't beaten, we was starved out! Sometimes we had parched corn to +eat and sometimes we didn't have a bite o' nothin', because the Union +mens come and tuck all the food for their selves. I can still remember +part of my ninety years. I remembers we fought all de way from Virginia +and winded up in Manassas Gap.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When time came for freedom most of us was glad. We liked the Yankees. +They was good to us. 'You is all now free. You can stay on the +plantation or you can go.' We all stayed there until old massa died. Den +I worked on de Seaboard Airline when it come to Birmingham. I have been +here ever since.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-83"> +<span id="id12"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Gus Brown" src="images/image055browngus.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Gus Brown, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"In all de years since de war I cannot forget old massa. He was good and +kind. He never believed in slavery but his money was tied up in slaves +and he didn't want to lose all he had.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I knows I will see him in heaven and even though I have to walk ten +miles for a bite of bread I can still be happy to think about the good +times we had then. I am a Confederate veteran but my house burned up wid +de medals and I don't get a pension.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Thank you, mister bossman, fer the quarter. It will buy me a little +grub. I'se too old to work but I has to."</p> +<p class="pnext">The reporter left him sitting with his little pack and a long fork in +his hands; in his eyes, dimmed with age, a far-off look and a tear of +longing for the Old Plantation.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="walter-calloway"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id82">Walter Calloway</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Walter Calloway</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.F. Jordan</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">OLE JOE HAD REAL 'LIGION</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Walter Calloway lives alone half a block off Avenue F, the thoroughfare +on the southside of Birmingham on which live many of the leaders in the +Negro life of the city. For his eighty-nine years he was apparently +vigorous except for temporary illness. A glance at the interior of his +cabin disclosed the fact that it was scrupulously neat and quite orderly +in arrangement, a characteristic of a great many ex-slaves. As he sat in +the sunshine on his tiny front porch, his greeting was: "Come in, white +folks. You ain't no doctor is you?"</p> +<p class="pnext">To a negative reply, he explained as he continued, "Fo' de las' past +twenty-five years I been keepin' right on, wukkin' for de city in de +street department. 'Bout two mont's ago dis mis'ry attackted me an' +don't 'pear lak nothin' dem doctors gimme do no good. De preacher he +come to see me dis mornin' an' he say he know a white gemman doctor, +what he gwine to sen' him to see me. I sho' wants to git well ag'in +pow'ful bad, but mebby I done live long 'nuff an' my time 'bout come."</p> +<p class="pnext">Quizzed about his age and antecedents, he began his story: "Well, sir, +Cap'n, I was born in Richmond, Virginny, in 1848. Befo' I was ole 'nuff +to 'member much, my mammy wid me an' my older brudder was sold to Marse +John Calloway at Snowdoun in Montgomery county, ten miles south of de +town of Montgomery.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse John hab a big plantation an' lots of slaves. Dey treated us +purty good, but we hab to wuk hard. Time I was ten years ole I was +makin' a reg'lar han' 'hin' de plow. Oh, yassuh, Marse John good 'nough +to us an' we git plenty to eat, but he had a oberseer name Green Bush +what sho' whup us iffen we don't do to suit him. Yassuh, he' mighty rough +wid us but he didn't do de whuppin' hisse'f. He had a big black boy +name Mose, mean as de debil an' strong as a ox, and de oberseer let him +do all de whuppin'. An', man, he could sho' lay on dat rawhide lash. He +whupped a nigger gal 'bout thirteen years ole so hard she nearly die, +an' allus atterwa'ds she hab spells of fits or somp'n. Dat make Marse +John pow'ful mad, so he run dat oberseer off de place an' Mose didn' do +no mo' whuppin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Same time Marse John buy mammy an' us boys, he buy a black man name +Joe. He a preacher an' de marster let de slaves buil' a brush arbor in +de pecan grove ober in de big pastur', an' when de wedder warn't too +cold all de slaves was 'lowed to meet dar on Sunday 'fo' preachin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, ole Joe do purty good. I spec he had mo' 'ligion dan some of de +hifalutin' niggers 'tendin' to preach nowadays. De white folks chu'ch, +hit at Hope Hill ober on de stage road, an' sometimes dey fetch 'dere +preacher to de plantation to preach to de slaves. But dey 'druther heah +Joe.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, we didn' git no schoolin' 'cep'in' befo' we got big 'nough to +wuk in de fiel' we go 'long to school wid de white chillun to take care +of 'em. Dey show us pictures an' tell us all dey kin, but it didn't +'mount to much.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-84"> +<span id="id13"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Walter Calloway" src="images/image057calloway.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Walter Calloway, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"When de war started 'mos' all I know 'bout it was all de white mens go +to Montgomery an' jine de army. My brudder, he 'bout fifteen year ole, +so he go 'long wid de ration wagon to Montgomery 'mos' ebry week. One +day he come back from Montgomery an' he say, 'Hell done broke loose in +Gawgy.' He couldn't tell us much 'bout what done happen, but de slaves +dey get all 'cited 'caze dey didn' know what to 'spect. Purty soon we +fin' out dat some of de big mens call a meetin' at de capitol on Goat +Hill in Montgomery. Dey 'lected Mista Jeff Davis president an' done +busted de Nunited States wide open.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter dat dar warn't much happen on de plantation 'cep'in' gangs of +so'jers passin' th'ough gwine off to de war. Den 'bout ebry so often a +squad of Confederate so'jers would come to de neighborhood gatherin' up +rations for Gin'ral Lee's army dey say. Dat make it purty hard on bofe +whites an' blacks, takin' off some of de bes' stock an' runnin' us low +on grub.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But we wuk right on 'twell one day somebody sen' a runner sayin' de +Yankees comin'. Ole mistis tell me to hurry ober to Mrs. Freeman's an' +tell 'em Wilson's Yankee raiders was on de way an' comin' lak a +harrikin. I hop on a mule an' go jes' as fas' as I can make him trabel, +but befo' I git back dey done retch de plantation, smashin' things +comin' an' gwine.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey broke in de smoke house an' tuk all de hams an' yuther rations, dey +fin' what dey want an' burn up de res'. Den dey ramshack de big house +lookin' fo' money an' jewelry an' raise Cain wid de wimmin folks 'caze +dey didn't fin' what dey wanted. Den dey leave dere ole hosses an' mules +an' take de bes' we got. Atter dey done dat, dey burn de smoke house, de +barns, de cribs an' some yuther prop'ty. Den dey skedaddle some place +else.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I warn't up dar but I heern tell dey burn up piles an' piles of cotton +an' lots of steamboats at Montgomery an' lef' de ole town jes' 'bout +ruint'. Twarn't long atter dat dey tell us we'se free. But lawdy, Cap'n, +we ain't neber been what I calls free. 'Cose ole marster didn' own us no +mo', an' all de folks soon scatter all ober, but iffen dey all lak me +dey still hafter wuk jes' as hard, an some times hab less dan we useter +hab when we stay on Marse John's plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Cap'n, dat's 'bout all I know. I feel dat misery comin' on me +now. Will you please, suh, gimme a lif' back in de house? I wisht dat +white gemman doctor come on iffen he comin'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="esther-king-casey"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id83">Esther King Casey</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Esther King Casey</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Edward F. Harper, Birmingham</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Living with her grandchildren at 801 Washington Avenue, Birmingham, +Alabama, Esther King Casey, former slave of Capt. Henry King of +Americus, Georgia, recalls from fading memory a few vivid scenes of the +days when men in gray moved hurridly about the town, suddenly +disappeared for a while and then returned, one by one, with weary, +halting tread and hollow faces, while gloom and despair hovered over the +town like a pall of desolation.</p> +<p class="pnext">Less vivid in her memory are the stories told her by her grandmother +of a long voyage across the ocean, of the arrival in a new land +called Mobile, and of slaves being sold at public auction. Less vivid, +too, are the memories of her own journey to Georgia, where she, with +her parents and brother, were brought to be the slaves of Captain King.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was only four or five years old when we came to Captain King's big +house," said the old woman, brightening with pride in her ability to +recollect. Her manners bore the marks of culture and refinement, and her +speech was surprisingly void of the usual Negro dialect. She is an +example of the former slave who was educated along with the white +children in the family.</p> +<p class="pnext">"There were eight or ten slaves in all," Esther continued. "We lived in +a house in the backyard of Captain King's Big House. My mamma was the +cook. Papa was a mechanic. He built houses and made tools and machinery. +Captain King gave me to the 'white lady;' that was Miss Susan, the +Captain's wife. Captain King was a fine man. He treated all of us just +like his own family. The 'white lady' taught us to be respectable and +truthful."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked if she had ever been punished for misbehavior the old woman +smiled and said: "Once the 'white lady' whipped me for playing with the +jailer's children. She had told me not to play with them because they +were not good company for me. She said that she wanted to raise me to be +good and truthful, and that the jailer's little white children told lies +and talked bad."</p> +<p class="pnext">Esther remembers well the mobilization of gray-uniformed troops at the +courthouse which stood only a block from the King residence. "The town +was filled with soldiers for several days," she said. "They assembled +about the courthouse and had speakings. One day I passed there with my +papa and saw Abraham Lincoln hanging from a noose in the courthouse +square. Of course, it was only an effigy of Abraham Lincoln which was +used to show what the soldiers thought of him. Papa told me that the +soldiers shot the effigy full of bullet holes before they left town.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Before Captain King left he brought a man with him from the courthouse +to value his property. The slaves were valued, too. I remember Captain +King lifting me high above his head and saying to the man: 'I wouldn't +take a thousand dollars for this little gem.'"</p> +<p class="pnext">She paused a moment. The light in her eyes showed that she was reliving +the thrill of that childhood incident.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Then Captain King left with the other soldiers. Papa stayed and took +care of the 'white lady' and the house. After a while my brother ran +away and joined the troops to fight for Captain King. He came back after +the war, but Captain King did not. Several years later I saw a man down +in south Georgia who told me that he belonged to Captain King's troops. +He said that he was standing near him when he was killed.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-85"> +<span id="id14"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Esther King Casey" src="images/image061casey.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Esther King Casey, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"After the proclamation the slaves were free. Most of them leased out to +plantation owners. I stayed with mamma and the 'white lady.'"</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. King had taught the little slave girl to read and write, and when +schools were opened for the freed slaves she told the child's mother to +send her to school. Fees of fifty cents a month were charged, which +Mrs. King paid as long as the child remained with her. At eighteen years +of age the girl had acquired sufficient education to qualify to teach in +the public schools for Negroes. After three years of teaching she +married Jim Casey, an ex-slave, who took her to his "three-plow" farm in +south Georgia.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No man ever lived who was finer than Jim," said the old woman. "My +daughter used to say that I loved him more than God, and that God was +jealous and took him away from me."</p> +<p class="pnext">After her only daughter's death in 1919, Esther was brought to +Birmingham by her grandson who has kept her comfortably ever since. Her +hair is just turning gray, though she was born in 1856. The little briar +pipe, which she endeavors to conceal from strangers, is the only outward +evidence that she has anything in common with others of her +generation.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="amy-chapman"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id84">Amy Chapman</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Amy Chapman</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby F. Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DE MASTERS GOOD, BUT OVERSEERS MEAN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Amy paused as she worked among the small plants in her garden, +removing a weed here and there. She pushed back the sunbonnet that +shaded her eyes and began:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was bawn on Governor Reuben Chapman's place five miles north of +Livingston on May 14, 1843. My name is Amy Chapman. My mother was Clary +Chapman an' my pappy was Bob Chapman. Dey both come from Virginny; my +mammy from Petersburg an' my pappy f'um Richmond. Dey was driv' down to +Alabamy lak cattle an' Marse Reuben bought 'em. He had a lot of slaves +caze he had a heap of plantations, but him an' his wife stay most of de +time in Huntsville an' dey had a heap of white oberseers. I had a plenty +of chilluns but not as many as my mammy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Who was my husban'? Law chile, I ain't never had no special husban'. I +even forgits who was de pappy of some of dese chilluns of mine.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had a mean oberseer, an' since Marse Reuben warn't never at home, +dem oberseers useter treat us somp'n awful. One day Marse Reuben come +home an' when he foun' out dat de oberseer was mean to de slaves he +commence to give him a lecture, but when Miss Ferlicia tuk a han' in de +business, she didn't stop at no lecture, she tol' dat oberseer dis: 'I +hear you take my women an' turn dere clothes ober dere haids an' whup +'em. Any man dat's got a family an' would do sich a thing oughter be +sham' of hisself, an' iffen Gov. Chapman can't make you leave, I kin, so +you see dat road dere? Well, make tracks den.' An' Mistis, he lef' +raght den. He didn't wait for no coaxin'. He was de meanes' oberseer us +ever had. He tuk my ol'est brother an' had him stretched out jus' lak +you see Christ on de cross; had him chained, an' I sot down on de groun' +by him an' cried all night lack Mary an' dem done. Dat oberseer was de +fus' one dat ever putt me in de fiel', an' he whupped me wid de cat er +nine tails when I was stark naked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den dere was anudder mean man named [...] who was always a-beatin' +nigger women caze dey wouldn't mind him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us warn't learned to read an' write, but Mr. Jerry Brown's slaves were. +He owned a big plantation. Us didn't go to no nigger church, caze dere +warn't none. I was babtized in Jones Creek, an' Dr. Edmon's a white +preacher, j'ined me to de Jones Creek Babtist Church long fo' de war, +an' de song I lacked bes' was a white folks song. Twarn't no nigger +song. It was lack dey sing it now, 'cep' mo' lovely, Miss, mo' lovely.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Dark was de night</div> +<div class="line">Col' was de groun'</div> +<div class="line">On which my Savior lay</div> +<div class="line">Blood in draps of sweat run down</div> +<div class="line">In agony he pray.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Lawd, move did bitter cup</div> +<div class="line">If sich dy sacred will</div> +<div class="line">If not content I'll drink it up</div> +<div class="line">Whose pleasure I'll fullfil.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"An' anudder one us niggers useter sing was might pretty:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">In evil long I tuk de light</div> +<div class="line">An' led by shame an' fear</div> +<div class="line">When a new object stopped my flight</div> +<div class="line">An' stopped my wild career.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">I saw him hangin' on a tree</div> +<div class="line">In agony an' blood</div> +<div class="line">He fixed his languid eyes on me</div> +<div class="line">As near his cross I stood.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Sho' never till my latter breath</div> +<div class="line">Kin I forgit dat look</div> +<div class="line">He seemed to change me wid his death</div> +<div class="line">Yit not a word he spoke.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">My conscience felt an' owned de quilt</div> +<div class="line">An' plunged me in despair</div> +<div class="line">I saw my sins his blood had spilt</div> +<div class="line">An' helped to nail him dere.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yassum, I kin tell you things about slavery times dat would make yo' +blood bile, but dey's too turrible. I jus' tries to forgit.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-86"> +<span id="id15"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Amy Chapman" src="images/image064chapman.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Amy Chapman, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I could tell you 'bout bein' run myself wid dem nigger dogs, but I +ain't gwineter do it. I will tell you dough 'bout a mean man who whupped +a cullid woman near 'bout to death. She got so mad at him dat she tuk +his baby chile what was playin' roun' de yard and grab him up an' +th'owed it in a pot of lye dat she was usin' to wash wid. His wife come +a-hollin' an' run her arms down in de boilin' lye to git de chile out, +an' she near 'bout burnt her arms off, but it didn't do no good 'caze +when she jerked de chile out he was daid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day I seed ole Unker Tip Toe all bent over a-comin' down de road +an' I ax him whut ail him an' he say: 'I's been in de stocks an' been +beat till de blood come. Den ole Massa 'ninted my flesh wid red papper +an' turpentine an' I's been most dead but I is somewhat better now.' +Unker Tiptoe belonged to de meanes' ol' marster around here.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But, honey, I ain't never tol' nobody all dis an' ain't gwine tell you +no mo'. Ride me home now, caze I's cripple; a cow was de cause of it. +She drug me roun' dat new orchard whut I planted las' fall. She done run +away wid me. Mistis I wished you would do me a favor an' write my son in +Texas an' tell him dat I say, iffen he 'specks me to make him anymo' of +dem star quilts, he better come on here an' kiver my house. De roof sho' +does leak bad."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="emma-chapman"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id85">Emma Chapman</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Emma Chapman</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Living in a small room in the rear of a house at 361 Augusta Street, +Mobile, Alabama, the writer located an interesting ex-slave, Emma +Chapman, who when first approached was somewhat reticent. I soon learned +I had arrived just as she was ready to have her breakfast, which +consisted of bread and coffee, and insisted she eat first and talk +afterwards, as she had made just about enough fire in the open fireplace +to boil the coffee.</p> +<p class="pnext">While she followed my suggestion I glanced about the room and found it +very neat and tidy and an unusually comfortable looking double bed, a +mirrored door chifferobe and two trunks, one rocking chair and a couple +of straight chairs, a table containing all cooking utensils and food +containers. The walls were covered with sheets of manilla wrapping +paper, tacked on, and part of the ceiling patched with odds and ends of +corrugated paper. Emma is small in stature, of light complexion with +greying hair arranged in neat braids around her head, very clean in +appearance.</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma said she was about 13 years of age at the time of the surrender, +and that she was born on the plantation of Rev. Mr. Montgomery Curry of +Charleston, S.C. When she was about 3 years of age Mr. Curry moved to +Pickens County, Alabama, about 5 miles from Carrollton and 8 miles from +Pickenville. When I asked why they moved to Alabama, Emma laughed, and +said they expected to find money growing on trees in Alabama, and that +she as a child came near being "snake bit" many a time, digging around +the roots of old trees, trying to find money.</p> +<p class="pnext">Rev. Montgomery Curry, said Emma, was married to Ann Haynie, whose +parents were Aaron and Francis Hudson Haynie, and Emma's grandmother +was Lucy Linier, who was born in Virginia and was sold to Mr. Haynie to +pay a debt. Lucy Linier was nurse for his daughter Ann and when she +married Mr. Curry, she brought Lucy with her to her new home. The Currys +had three children, a boy and two girls, and it was Lucy Linier's +daughter, Patsy, who acted as their nurse.</p> +<p class="pnext">The home of Rev. and Mrs. Montgomery Curry was a two-story log house +with wide open hall running the entire length of the house and with +rooms opening off either side. The kitchen was out a short distance from +the main house, with the dairy between the two, under a large hickory +tree.</p> +<p class="pnext">The slave quarters were also built of logs, with space between for a +shed room and small garden plot and a few chickens. The slave women did +not go to the fields on Saturday as that was their day to clean up +around their homes. They usually washed their clothes at night and hung +them on the bushes where they were left to dry in the sunshine, maybe a +couple of days, as no one could or would disturb them.</p> +<p class="pnext">Rev. Montgomery Curry was a Baptist preacher and had no overseer, except +Lucy Linier and her husband, Emma's grandparents, who kept a supervision +over the slaves about 40 in number. There was no whipping allowed on the +Curry plantation, and after the death of Reverend Curry, Mrs. Ann Curry +(his widow) ran the plantation under the same system. The patrollers had +no jurisdiction over the Curry slaves, they were given permits by the +Currys to go and come, and Emma said if one of those patrollers whipped +one of "ole Miss's slaves, she would have sure sued them.</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma laughingly said the slaves on other plantations always said the +Curry slaves were "free niggers," as they could always get permits, and +had plenty to eat and milk to drink. The slaves cooked their breakfasts +in their own cabins, but dinner and supper was cooked in the kitchen and +each came with their pan to be filled and had their own gourds which +were grown on the place to drink their milk and of which they could have +full and plenty.</p> +<p class="pnext">During the war they cooked for the Confederate soldiers encamped nearby +and great quantities were prepared. Emma was one of those delegated to +carry the food to the camp. All she ever saw of the Yankees were two who +stopped at the house and asked for something to eat. Mrs. Montgomery +invited them in and served the best she had. One of the men wanted to +take the last mule she had and the other said "No, Mrs. Montgomery is a +widow and from the appearance of her slaves she has treated them well."</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Montgomery told them that someone had stolen her saddle horse and +the soldier who had remonstrated with the other replied: "Madam, your +saddle horse will be returned in three weeks," and sure enoug, one night +about midnight they heard a horse whinny and Emma's grandfather said +"there is old Spunk," and there was old Spunk waiting outside.</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma said the first whipping she ever had, was after the Surrender, +given her by her own father when they left Alabama and went to live near +Columbus, Miss.</p> +<p class="pnext">She had always lived in the house with the "old Miss" and her young +Miss, and when she had to leave them, she cried and so did they.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her grandmother Lucy Linier nursed "Miss Ann"; Lucy's daughter Patsy +nursed "Miss Ann's" children, and was the special property of Fannie +Montgomery Curry, who married a Mr. Sidney Lipscomb and whose children +Emma helped to look after, so the three generations were interwoven.</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma only wishes she could go back to plantation days. All her trials +and suffering came after she left "Ole Miss," and went to live with her +father and mother, George and Patsy Curry, who had fourteen children and +of which Emma was the eldest. Her father who was a quadroon in cast was +cruel to his family, and especially so to her. He made her work like a +man, cutting timber, splitting rails, digging, planting and all work of +the farm.</p> +<p class="pnext">Now, Emma is the only member of her family left. She married three +times, having only two children, a girl and a boy, these by her last +husband, Frank Chapman, now dead, and Emma has no knowledge of her +children's whereabouts. She gave them an education so they could write +to her if they wanted to. The girl married and left Mobile, the boy went +to Chicago, was chauffeur for some rich folks. His last letter several +years ago, in which he enclosed $25.00, stated he was going on a trip to +Jerusalem with one of the young men of the family.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="henry-cheatam"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id86">Henry Cheatam</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Henry Cheatam</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I HEARD LINCOLN SET US FREE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks, I'se glad you drapped by to have a talk wid me. I was +gittin' powerfully lonely," said Henry Cheatam, who lives in Marysville, +a Mobile suburb. "Sho' I'll be glad to tell you some about de slave +days. I sho' 'members plenty. Well, to begin wid, I was born in 1850 +near West Point. Dat's in Clay County, Mississippi, you know. I b'longed +to Mr. Tom Hollingshead who was killed in de Cibil War. I 'members all +de slaves agoin' in to take a last look at him atter dey done brung his +body home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy's name was Emmeline Cheatam, an' my pappy's was Sam Cheatam. I +don't remember my grandpappy an' grandmammy atall.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us slaves libed in log cabins what was daubed wid clay to keep de rain +an' win' out, an' de chimneys was made of clay an' sticks. De beds was +home-made an' nailed agin' de wall wid legs on de outer side. De Massa's +house was build of logs too, but it was much bigger'n de nigger cabins +an' sot way out in front of ourn. Atter de massa was kilt, old Miss had +a nigger oberseer an' dat was de meanest debil dat eber libbed on de +Lawd's green yearth. I promise myself when I growed up dat I was agoin' +to kill dat nigger iffen it was de las' thing I eber done. Lots of times +I'se seen him beat my mammy, an' one day I seen him beat my Auntie who +was big wid a chile, an' dat man dug a roun' hole in de groun' an' put +her stummick in it, an' beat an' beat her for a half hour straight till +the baby come out raght dere in de hole.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Why de Mistis 'low such treatment? A heap of times ole Miss didn't know +nuthin' 'bout it, an' de slaves better not tell her, 'caze dat oberseer +whup 'em iffen he finds out dat dey done gone an' tol'. Yassun, white +folks, I'se seed some turrible things in my time. When de slaves would +try to run away our oberseer would put chains on dere legs wid big long +spikes tween dere feets, so dey couldn't git away. Den I's seen great +bunches of slaves put up on de block an' sol' jus' lak dey was cows. +Sometimes de chilluns would be seprated from dere maws an' paws.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I come pretty near to bein' tuk away from my maw. When de slaves was +bein' 'vided, one of ole Miss' datters was agoin' to Texas, an' I was +goin' to have to go when somebody hollered 'Freedom', an' I sho' was +glad 'caze I could stay wid my mammy now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In dose days us had plenty of good, plain food; such as pot likker, +greens, cornbread, 'taters, peas, pears, an' at hog killin' us had +chittlin's an' pig jowls an' back bone. Den us would cotch 'possums at +night when dey come up in de corn fiel'. Us neber seed no flour dough.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As for fishin', we neber did none, 'caze we hadda work too hard. We +worked from 'can to can't.' Git up at sunrise, go to de fiel' an' stay +till dark. In de middle of de day dey would sen' our somp'n t'eat to de +fiel' wid a barrel of water. But for breakfas' an' supper, us hadda cook +our own grub dey gib us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our clo's warn't many. Us chilluns wo' a one-piece suit made outen +osnaburg, an' us would hab to take dat off at night, wash it an' put it +back on de nex' day. As for shoes, chillun neber had none. You see, +white folks, I was jus' a chile, jus' big enough to tote water to de +fiel's.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-87"> +<span id="id16"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Henry Cheatam" src="images/image072cheatam.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Henry Cheatam, Marysville, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I 'members when de Yankees was acomin' th'ough I hoped to ca'y de +hosses to de woods an' hoped to hide de meat an' bury de valu'bles, +'caze dem Yankees tuk whatever dey wanted, an' you better not say +nothin' neither 'caze dey had dem long swyords ahangin' at dere sides.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In dem days, de slaves done all de work an' carried all de news. De +marsters sont notes from one plantation to anudder, an' when dey wanted +de niggers to come to de Big House dey would blow an ole cow horn. Dey +had certain number of blows for certain niggers. Dat is, de niggers dat +was somp'n. Dey would also use dis horn for 'possum an' coon huntin' at +night. De li'l niggers at night went to de big house to spin an' weave. +I'se spun a many roll an' carded a many bat of cotton. I'se also made a +many tallow candle by tyin' strings onto a long stick an' droppin dem +down into moulds filled wid tallow. I'se hid many a night in de fence +corners when I'd be agoin' som'ers to git my mammy some 'bacco. De +pattyrollers would be out lookin' for slaves dat didn't hab no pass from +dere oberseer, an' I'd hear dem acomin' an' I'd hide till dey pass on, +'caze iffen dey cotch me I sho' gwine have a sound beatin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De owners always tuk care of us, and when us got sick dey would git a +doctor, an' ole Miss was all right, but dat oberseer was a debil. He +wouldn't 'low no meetin' on de place. Sometimes us would slip down de +hill an' turn de wash pot bottom up'ards so de soun' of our voices would +go under de pot, an' us'd have a singin' an' prayin' raght dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mos' of de slave could go sometimes to de white folks church when dey +gits a pass from dere Massa, but dat mean oberseer always tried to keep +us from goin' so's us couldn't learn nothin'. He didn't want us to learn +to read or write neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm us didn't have nothin' lak matches till I was growed. Us used +flint rocks an' cotton to start de fires.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us didn't have nothin' but food an' clothes. We didn't have no garden +of our own an' der wan't no celebratin', 'ceptin' at hog killin'. Dat +was de bigges' day of de year.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sat'day afternoon we was 'lowed to play, but I can't 'member none of +de games. Us jus' played lak all li'l niggers did den. At night time us +jus' went to our cabins an' went to bed, 'caze we warn't 'lowed to do no +singing. Mos' of de singin' was done in de fiel's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cornshuckin' time come when dey wanted to git de seed corn for +plantin', an' us would commence de shuckin' when it commence rainin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You axed me 'bout funerals an' weddin's. Us niggers nebber ma'ied an' +don't 'member any big weddin's of de white folks. But dey buried folks +den de same as dey does now, in a box. Dey would bury de slaves same as +dey done de white folks, but us didn't eben have no babtizin' on 'count +of dat oberseer. He didn't lak for us to git no religion. Cose all +slaves didn't have hard treatment lak us did, 'caze dere oberseer an' +Marster warn't as mean as ourn.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm we didn't know nothin' 'bout no hoodoo stuff in dem days. Dey only +had homemade medicines, dat is unless dey got sho' nuff powerful sick +an' den dey would go to see a doctor. Us used bone-set tea made from a +weed. Lawd, it was bitterer dan quinine, an' it were good for de chills +an' fever, an' it would purge you too. Den us used life-everlastin' tea +for fever, an' Jerusalem brush-reed to get rid of worms.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But, Miss, I knows dere is gostes, 'caze when I was a little boy my +mammy come in from de fiel' an' laid across de bed an' I was sittin' in +front of de fireplace an' a big somp'n lak a cow widout no haid come in +de do' an' I commence to beat on it wid my fists. Den my mammy say: +'What matter wid you, nigger?' Den dat critter he walk raght out de +do'. I looked outen de window an' dere it was a-goin' in Aunt Marfa's +cabin. I neber did see it no mo'. Den anudder time a white man died an' +my mammy was a stayin' wid his sister an' dis spirit lak an angel come +to my mammy an' tol' her to tell de white lady to read de Bible +back'ards three times, 'caze dere was one talent 'tween her an' Jesus. +Atter dat she were comforted. Anudder time, my pappy, Sam Cheatam, who +was a wicked man, was a-sittin' in front of de fire an' a big brindle +dog come to de do' an' started barkin'. My pappy say: 'What in de Hell +am dat?' an' snapped his fingers at de dog. De dog he den dropped daid. +Some folks say dat dere ain't no sich things as gostes, but I know dere +is, 'caze dere is good spirits an' bad spirits.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dem was good ol' days, Mistis, even iffen us did have a hard time an' I +don't know iffen it warn't better'n it is now. I has to almos' go +hongry, an' I can't git no he'p from de government, 'caze I is over 65 +years old. Fact is, I believe I 'druther be alivin' back dere dan today +'caze us at least had plenty somp'n t'eat an' nothin' to worry about. +An' as for beatin'; dey beats folks now iffen dey don't do raght, so +what's de difference? Yassum, Mistis, I worked as long as I was able an' +didn't axe nobody for nothin', but now it's diff'rent, 'caze I ain't +able to do no work. I'se tried to do raght and ain't never been in but +one fight in my life. I now belongs to de Corinthian Babtist Church, an' +I's tryin' to live so when de good Lawd calls I'll be ready to answer +wid a clean soul.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se had two wives, but I was only a young nigger when I had de fust +un, an' had two chilluns by her, den I lef' her 'caze she warn't no +'count. Dat's been forty year ago, an' I ain't neber seen my chilluns in +all dem years. My second wife I got when I lived thirty miles below +Birmingham, Alabama, at de ol' Bank Mines. Dat's been thirty-five year +ago an' us is still together. Us ain't neber had no chilluns. No'm, I +don't know nothin' 'bout Abe Lincoln 'ceptin' dey say he sot us free, +an' I don't know nothin' 'bout dat neither."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="laura-clark"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id87">Laura Clark</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Laura Clark</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">CHILLUN IN EV'Y GRABEYARD</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Laura Clark, black and wrinkled with her eighty-six years, moved +limpingly about the tiny porch of her cabin on the outskirts of +Livingston. Battered cans and rickety boxes were filled with a profusion +of flowers of the common variety. Laura offered me a split-bottomed +chair and lowered herself slowly into a rocker that creaked even under +her frail body. "Po'ly, Miss, po'ly," she responded to my query about +her health. "Tain't lack de old days. I's crippled and mos' blin' now +atter all de years what I got.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born on Mr. Pleasant Powell's place in North Ca'lina, and when I +was 'bout six or seven years ole I reckon hit 'twas, Mr. Garret from +right up yonder in de bend, 'bout eight miles from Livingston gwine +no'th on de Livingston and Epes road, bought ten of us chillun in North +Ca'lina and sont two white men, and one was Mr. Skinner, to fotch us +back in waggins. En he fotch ole Julie Powell and Henry to look atter +us. Wa'n't none of dem ten chillun no kin to me, and he never bought my +mammy, so I had to leave her behine.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I recollect Mammy said to old Julie, 'Take keer my baby chile (dat was +me) an iffen I never sees her no mo' raise her for God.' Den she fell +off de waggin where us was all settin' and roll over on de groun' jes' +acryin'. But us was eatin' candy what dey done give us for to keep us +quiet, and I didn't have sense 'nuff for to know what ailed Mammy, but I +knows now and I never seed her no mo' in dis life. When I heered from +her atter S'render she done dead and buried. Her name was Rachel Powell. +My pappy's name I don't know ca'se he done been sole to somewhars else +when I was too little to recollect. But my mammy was de mother of +twenty-two chillun and she had twins in her lap when us driv' off. My +gran'mammy said when I lef', 'Pray, Laura, and be er good gal, and min' +bofe white and black. Ev'body will lack you and iffen you never see me +no mo' pray to meet me in heaven.' Den she cried. Her name was Rose +Powell.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us all started den for Mr. Garrett's plantation down yonder in de bend, +ten chillun and two ole uns, and two white men, and us was travellin' +solid a month. Fuss thing Ole Marsa say was 'Now be good ter dese +motherless chillun.' Den he went to war, and de overseers forgot all +'bout dey promise. When Ole Marsa come back he done got his arm shot +off, but he let bofe dem overseers go, ca'se dey done whupped dat ole +'oman what come wid us to deaf. She brought her two little boys, Colvin +and 'Lias, but Joe, dey pappy, didn't come—he was sole 'fo 'Lias was +bawn. Joe never seed 'Lias.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-88"> +<span id="id17"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Laura Clark" src="images/image078clark.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Laura Clark, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I sets cross de road here from dat church over yonder and can't go +'ca'se I'm cripple' and blin', but I heers um singin':</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">A motherless chile sees a hard time</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Oh, Lord, he'p her on de road.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">'Er sister will do de bes' she kin</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Dis is a hard world, Lord, fer a motherless chile.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"And I jes' busts out cryin'. Dat was de song I had in view to sing for +you, hit's so mournful. I knowed 'twa'n't no reel, 'twa'n't nothin' lack +no reel, 'ca'se I been b'longin' to de church for fifty-five years, and +I don't fancy no reel. I'm glad I got hit to my min' 'fo' you lef'. But +my recollection is shaller. I ain't never read no verse in no Bible in +my life, ca'se I can't read. Some my chillun kin, though. My husban' +died and lef' me wid nine chillun, none of um couldn't pull de others +outer de fire iffen dey fell in. I had mo'n dat, but some come here dead +and some didn't. I got chillun dead in Birmingham and Bessemer. Dey +ain't a graveyard in dis here settlement 'roun' Prospect where I ain't +got chillun buried. Hettie Ann, right up dere ter Mr. Hawkins' +graveyard, and my boy whut got killed settin' on de side de road eatin' +his dinner, he' buried in Captain Jones' place in de bend yonder.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I been drug about and put through de shackles so bad I done +forgot some of dey names, and I mos' blin' now and can't hear good +neither. But my eyes is good nuff for to see ghosts, but I don't b'lieve +in 'em, 'ca'se I'd see dem chillun sometime effen dey was ghosties. I +know I'd see my boy, ca'se dey showed me his head whar dat Miller boy +hit him in de head wid a spade and split his head wide open, slip up +behin' him and all he said was 'Squeek,' jes' lack a hog, and he was +dead. And de murderer live right here but dey move and now I'm here. +When hit rain us jes' gets under de bed 'ca'se de house ain't got no top +on hit.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-89"> +<span id="laura-clark-s-house"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Laura Clark's House" src="images/image078clarkhouse.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Laura Clark's House, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I can't say Marse Garrett wa'n't good to us motherless chillun but de +overseer, Mr. Woodson Tucker, was mean as anybody. He'd whup you nigh +'bout to deaf, and had a whuppin' log what he strip 'em buck naked and +lay 'em on de log. He whup 'em wid a wide strop, wider'n my han', den he +pop de blisters what he raise and 'nint 'em wid red pepper, salt, and +vinegar. Den he put 'em in de house dey call de pest house and have a +'oman stay dere to keep de flys offen 'em 'twell dey get able to move. +Den dey had reg'lar men in de fields wid spades, and iffen you didn't do +what you git tole, de overseer would wrop dat strap 'roun' his han' and +hit you in de haid wid de wooden handle 'til he kilt you. Den de mens +would dig a hole wid de spades and throw 'em in hit right dere in de +fiel' jes' lack dey was cows—didn't have no funeral nor nothin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had a heap of houses in de quarters right on bofe sides de Big +House. Us could step outer one house to 'tother. But, Miss, I didn't +work so hard or have no trouble either. I was in de house atter Marsa +come home and foun' me splittin' rails and plowin'. He 'lowed dey done +put me in too hard a ship, and I was too little, so he tuck me to de +house to draw water and wash dishes, 'ca'se I was a little motherless +gal. Ole Marsa done a good part by me, and I was married to my fuss +husban', Cary Crockett, right dere in de parlor. He tole de overseer dat +us was human and had feelin's same as him, so he rejected de +paterrollers and made 'em git off de place. I was treated good, 'ca'se I +'membered what my gran'ma say, and whatever dey tole me to put my han' +to, I did, and I was obedient and wasn't hardheaded lack some de res.' I +had no trouble, and wasn't 'buked none. But I's had mo' trouble las' ten +years wid my own chillun den I ever did in slav'y time. Dey gives me +sich bitter words till I can't swaller 'em and I jes' sets and cries. I +can't read no songs to comfort me, jes' ketch 'em from de preacher on de +stan' and hole 'em, dat's de way I ketch my larnin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Las' sermon I hyard, he tuck his tex' en said, 'Don't nobody +rob God.' Den he say, 'Effen you is goin' to 'tend to serve God, serve +Him in de full, 'ca'se God don't never bat a eye, nor turn His haid +and he kin see you. He frowns at ev'y sin, but He's a sinforgivin' +man.' I use to know a heap 'bout de Lord, but I'm so cripple' an +blin' since de ca'f jumped on my foot I can't go to church no mo', so +I done forgot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You ax 'bout dem flowers on de po'ch—I sho' wish dey was mine, you +could have 'em 'ca'se dey ain't room nuff wid dem for me ter sit whar I +desire. Us ain't got no meal and here 'tis jes' Tuesday—no mo' till +Saddy. Sho' is bad; us jes' 'pends on de neighbors and borrys."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="hattie-clayton"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id88">Hattie Clayton</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Hattie Clayton</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DE YANKS DRAPPED OUTEN DE SKY</em></p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Hattie Clayton said, "I'se gittin' erroun' de ninety notch, +honey, an' I reckon de Kingdom ain't fur away."</p> +<p class="pnext">She lives in a tiny cabin not far from Opelika. Her shoulders are bent; +her hair gray, but she still does a large amount of housework. She likes +to sit on the tumbledown front porch on summer afternoons, plying her +knitting needles and stretching her aged legs in the warm sunlight.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Twas a long time ago, honey," she observed when talk of slavery days +was brought up, "but I 'members as ef 'twas yestidy. My ol' mistus was +de Widder Day. She owned a plantation clos't to Lafayette an' she was +mighty good to us niggers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Mistus boughten me when I was jus' a little tyke, so I don't +'member 'bout my pappy an' mammy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I 'members dat us little chilluns didn't go to de fiel's twel us +was big 'nuff to keep up a row. De oberseer, Marse Joe Harris, made us +work, but he was good to us. Ol' Mistus, she wouldn't let us wuk whin it +was rainin' an' cold."</p> +<p class="pnext">Asked about pleasures of the old plantation life, she chuckled and +recalled:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I kin heah de banjers yit. Law me, us had a good time in dem +days. Us danced most eb'ry Sattidy night an' us made de rafters shake +wid us foots. Lots o' times Ole Missus would come to de dances an' +look on. An' whin er brash nigger boy cut a cute bunch uv steps, de +menfolks would give 'im a dime or so.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, us went t' de church on a Sundays. I allus did lak +singin' and I loved de ol' songs lak, 'Ol' Ship of Zion,' an' 'Happy +Land.' Ol' Mistus useter take all de little scamps dat was too little +for church an' read de Book to dem under de big oak tree in de front +yahd."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Hattie," she was asked, "do you remember anything about the War +between the States?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"You mean de Yankees, honey?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, the Yankees."</p> +<p class="pnext">Her coal black face clouded.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey skeered us nearly to death," she began. "Dey drap right outen de +sky. Ol' Mistus keep hearin' dey was comin', but dey didn't nebber show +up. Den, all ter once, dey was swarmin' all ober de place wid deir blue +coats a-shinin' an' deir horses a'rarin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us chilluns run en hid in de fence corners en' behin' quilts +dat was hangin' on de line. An' honey, dem Yankees rid deir horses rat +onto Ol' Mistus flower beds. Dey hunted de silver, too, but us done +hid dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dey was mad. Dey sot de house a-fire an' tuk all de +vittals dey could fin'. I run away an' got los', an' whin I come back +all de folks was gone."</p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Hattie said she "wint down de big road an' come to a lady's house +where she remained until she married.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us moved to Lafayette an' den to Opelika," she concluded, "an' I bin' +here eber since."</p> +<p class="pnext">She lives with one of her numerous granddaughters now. She finds her +great happiness in "de promise" and the moments when she can sit in the +shade and dip her mind back into memory.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="wadley-shorty-clemons"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id89">Wadley "Shorty" Clemons</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Wadley "Shorty" Clemons</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Clark</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">He was bent over the lawn, carefully trimming the border into a neat +line. A small black figure in overalls, clean but worn blue chambray +shirt, the misshapen remains of shoes and a nondescript hat, from under +which protruded thin white sideburns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Good morning, Uncle," I said, "Mr. Lee was telling me about you. He +said you lived back in slavery times. Is that right?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes suh, I sho' did. I'll be 92 years old de second of August, and I +was a slave for 20 year. I had a good ole massa and mistis, de bes' dere +was. Ole massa was a great big man, an' he wa'n't scared of nothin' dey +was. He wouldn't go nowhere without me. He always took me wid him. My +grandma was a cook and my ma was a house girl.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We lived in Pine Hill, a summer resort in Jefferson County, Georgia, +across the river from Louisville. From home we could look over and see +de people walkin' about in Louisville.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-90"> +<span id="id18"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Wadley (Shorty) Clemons" src="images/image084clemons.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Wadley (Shorty) Clemons, [TR: Village Springs?], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I remembers de day de Yankees come to Louisville. We could see them +goin' about from one house to anudder, settin' fire. Den dey come on to +de river and sot fire to de bridge. Dey wouldn't use our bridge. Dey +built dese here pontoon bridges and dey could build dem before you could +look away and look back. Den dey come across de river to Pine Hill.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole massa had his hosses an' mules hid down in de swamp but my uncle +Tom went and got 'em an' brung 'em to de Yankees at de big gate. He +didn't had to do it. He was jes' mean. He hadn't been much good to massa +since de war commenced; lay off in de swamp mos' of de time. Arter he +brung massa's hosses an' mules to de Yankees he went wid dem into +massa's bedroom and dey jes' throwed massa and mistis close all outa' de +closet and wardrobe and he give em' mistis gold yearings and bracelets +and dey took de yearings and put dem on de hosses' years and put de +bracelets on de hosses' ankles.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole massa was sittin' on de long porch smokin' one of dese Meerschaum +pipes wid a stem way so long and dat pipe was white as snow. He had a +big can of tobacco on de table in front of him. In dem days people made +dey own tobacco and I wisht I had some of it now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa had 'bout thutty fattening hogs and de Yankees jes' went in de +pen and cut dem hogs in two. He had jes' lots of turkeys and guineas an' +de Yankees shot dem down. He had thutty hives of bees in one long row +an' one Yankee run up to de firs' hive an jump in it head first, and de +bees stung him till he died. De udders pull him out and took him to de +well and poured water over him but he stayed dead so dey just dug a hole +down by the side of the road and bury him in it. Yessir, dat's de trufe!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey stayed dere all night and camped out and cooked massa's good smoked +meat and burnt down de barns and done all de devilment dey could. I +couldn't see no use in dere doin' what dey did, but dat's what dey done.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa had 71 slaves when dey was made free. De next county wasn't fit +for much farming and atter we was freed my Uncle Andy went dere an' +bought a place. De land sold for 50 cents de acre atter de timber was +cut off. Uncle Andy had a brudder Sam and Sam had a steer. Dey plowed +wid de steer.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Andy worked at de sawmill in daytime an' at night he cut two +cords of wood before he go to bed. He make two bales of cotton de first +year and de next year he make four. Den he tuk up preachin'. He was a +Methodist preacher.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den ole massa die and ole mistis lose all her land. Uncle Andy was +right good fixed so he took keer of her a year or more 'fore she died. +Den when she died, he went to pay all de expenses of de funeral but de +white folks won't let him kase dey say he done his share already.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My massa's name was William Clemons and dey name me Wadley for ole man +Wadley, de president of de Center Road.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dem days is gone a long time an' I still heah, but dey was good times +den. I had plenty to eat, plenty close to wear and when I gets sick, ole +massa come to give me some medicine and I don't need no doctor.</p> +<p class="pnext">"People worship God in dem days and not bother wid church houses so +much. Ev'ry Sunday ole massa get out by de back do' and teach us Sunday +school. Den we cut tree limbs and make brush arbors for preaching. In de +summer atter crops been laid by, us all, black and white, go to camp +meetin' and stay a week. De white preacher preach on one side and de +nigger on de udder. We carry lots of vittles and feed everybody. Niggers +sho' was better off in slavery times."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="william-colbert"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id90">William Colbert</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with William Colbert</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">John Morgan Smith</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">MY MASTER WAS A MEAN MAN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Sho. I remember de slavery days. How could I forgits?"</p> +<p class="pnext">Slowly Uncle Will spoke these words as he made his way up a few rickety +steps with the aid of an old broomstick to his cabin door. "We can jes' +set in de swing effen you wants to hear a little 'bout dem ole days, +kaze I can sho tell it."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, first, Uncle Will, what's your full name and where are you from?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"My name am William Colbert and I'se fum Georgia. I was bawn in 1844 on +my massa's plantation in Fort Valley. My massa's name was Jim Hodison. +At one time he had 165 of us niggers."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Will, a gaunt, black figure with two weeks growth of gray hair +upon his face, spoke in a soft, quaking voice scarcely audible ten feet +away. His eyes had a far-off, sad expression of one who had known +suffering. They were set deep back in bony caverns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Uncle Will, tell me something about the slave days. Was your +master good to you?"</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-91"> +<span id="id19"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="William Colbert" src="images/image087colbert.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +William Colbert, [TR: Birmingham], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Nawsuh, he warn't good to none of us niggers. All de niggers 'roun' +hated to be bought by him kaze he was so mean. When he was too tired to +whup us he had de oberseer do it; and de overseer was meaner dan de +massa. But, Mister, de peoples was de same as dey is now. Dere was good +uns and bad uns. I jus' happened to belong to a bad un. One day I +remembers my brother, January was cotched ober seein' a gal on de next +plantation. He had a pass but de time on it done gib out. Well suh, when +de massa found out dat he was a hour late, he got as mad as a hive of +bees. So when brother January he come home, de massa took down his long +mule skinner and tied him wid a rope to a pine tree. He strip' his shirt +off and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Now, nigger, I'm goin' to teach you some sense.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wid dat he started layin' on de lashes. January was a big, fine lookin' +nigger; de finest I ever seed. He was jus' four years older dan me, an' +when de massa begin a beatin' him, January neber said a word. De massa +got madder and madder kaze he couldn't make January holla.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'What's de matter wid you, nigger' he say. 'Don't it hurt?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"January, he neber said nothin', and de massa keep a beatin' till little +streams of blood started flowin' down January's chest, but he neber +holler. His lips was a quiverin' and his body was a shakin', but his +mouf it neber open; and all de while I sat on my mammy's and pappy's +steps a cryin'. De niggers was all gathered about and some uv 'em +couldn't stand it; dey hadda go inside dere cabins. Atter while, +January, he couldn't stand it no longer hisself, and he say in a hoarse, +loud whisper:</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Massa! Massa! have mercy on dis poor nigger.'</p> +<p class="pnext">Will's eyes narrowed down to fine creases as his thick lips came +together in smacking noises, and the loose skin beneath his chin, and +jaws seemed to shake with the impact of dread memories.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den," he continued, after a brief pause in which time there was no +sound except the constant drop of a bead of water in a lard bucket, "de +war came. De Yankees come in and dey pulled de fruit off de trees and +et it. Dey et de hams and cawn, but dey neber burned de houses. Seem to +me lak dey jes' stay aroun' long enough to git plenty somp'n t'eat, kaze +dey lef' in two or three days, an' we neber seed 'em since. De massa had +three boys to go to war, but dere wasn't one to come home. All the +chillun he had was killed. Massa, he los' all his money and de house +soon begin droppin' away to nothin'. Us niggers one by one lef' de ole +place and de las' time I seed de home plantation I was a standin' on a +hill. I looked back on it for de las' time through a patch of scrub +pines and it look' so lonely. Dere warn't but one person in sight, de +massa. He was a-settin' in a wicker chair in de yard lookin' out ober a +small field of cotton and cawn. Dere was fo' crosses in de graveyard in +de side lawn where he was a-settin'. De fo'th one was his wife. I lost +my ole woman too 37 years ago, and all dis time, I's been a carrin' on +like de massa—all alone."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="tildy-collins"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id91">Tildy Collins</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Tildy Collins</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">In the Negro section of Uniontown, locally known as "Rabbit Yard" (named +by the Negroes themselves), lives "Aunt Tildy" Collins, a typical "black +mammy" of orthodox type. She is a talkative old soul, running over with +slavery tales and greatly beloved by a wide range of acquaintances among +both races. Although eighty-four summers have passed over her snow-white +head, Aunt Tildy's spirit is unconquered by time and her physical +activity is truly remarkable for her age. She does her own housework and +cares for her home without assistance. In front of her one-room cabin is +a neat garden of vegetables and flowers combined, with morning glories +trained carefully over the fence nearly all the way around. There is a +saying in the South, that cotton will grow better for a Negro than for +any other race, and this might well be extended to include morning +glories in Aunt Tildy's case; since none in Uniontown are quite so fine +in growth or brilliance of coloring.</p> +<p class="pnext">Like nearly all old Negroes, Aunt Tildy goes to sleep very readily. She +was dozing in a rocker on her small porch, while the scent of wood smoke +and the odor of boiling vegetables issued from the cabin. An iron pot, +hanging from a crane in the fireplace, sending forth clouds of steam and +an appetizing aroma. She clings to old fashioned equipment and disdains +a stove for cooking. Her "biled" vegetables or meats in the hanging pot, +with baked potatoes and "pone" bread from the oven make up a meal that +leaves little to be desired, as many visitors who have shared her +repasts well know.</p> +<p class="pnext">As the gate squeaked, Aunt Tildy awoke with a start and a smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Come in, white folks, I was jes' a-settin' here waitin' for my greens +to bile, an' I musta drapped off to sleep. Set down in dat cheer right +dar, an' tek off your hat; you sho' is lookin' well, an' I'se proud to +see you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas, ma'am, I sho' was borned in slavery times, an' I wish to Gawd I +could git now what I useter hab den, 'caze dem was good times for de +black folks. Dese free niggers don't know what 'tis to be tuk good keer +of.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Co'se I means dat! I was borned on a big plantation near 'bout to +Linden, an' my Ole Marster was name Harris, yassum, Dick Harris, an' my +Ole Mistis was Miss Mandy. Bofe dey boys fit in de wah, an' I 'members +when dey went off wid de sojers, ole Mistis she cry an' hug dem boys an' +kiss 'em goodbye, an' dey was gone a long time. I was a leetle gal +whenst dey went to de wah, an' I was mos' a grown 'oman when dey come +home, an' dey bofe had whiskers. Young Massa Richard he limpin' an' look +mighty pale, an' dey say he been wounded an' stay in prison on Mister +Johnson's island, summuz up de ribber; but Marse Willis, he look all +right, 'cep'in' whiskers. Ole Marster had a big house, an' dat same +house standin' dar right now. Us had plenty to eat an' plenty to wear, +an' dat's mo'n what some folks got now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Marster was good to all he niggers, an' my pappy and mammy bofe +belonged to him. Dey was a slave-yard in Uniontown, an' ev'y time a +spec'later cum wid a lot of new niggers, Ole Marster he buy four or five +niggers, an' dat's how he come to buy my pappy, atter de spec'later +brung him an' a whole passel of niggers from North C'lina. My mammy here +already 'long to Ole Marster. Her was borned his'n.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometime a no 'count nigger tek an' runned erway; but de oberseer, he +put de houn's on he track, an' dey run him up a tree, an' de oberseer +fetch him back nex' mawnin', all tuckerd out, an' he' glad to stay home +for a spell an' 'have hese'f. Ole Marster had a good oberseer, too. +'Cose he wan't no quality, lak Ole Marster an' Ole Mistis, but he was a +good, kin' man an' he didn't hab no trouble on de whole plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us alluz had a Chris'mus tree in de quarter, jes' lak de white folks +an' dey was presents for ev'ybody—nobody wan't lef' out, big or little. +Dere was a meetin' house on de plantation an' Ole Marster had a rule dat +all de chilluns had to go to Sunday school soon as dey was big 'nuff, +an' dey had to go in clean white clo'se, too. Us chilluns hate to see +Sunday come, 'caze Mammy an' Granmammy dey wash us an' near 'bout rub de +skin off gittin' us clean for Sunday school, an' dey comb our heads wid +a jimcrow. You ain't neber seed a jimcrow? Hit mos' lak a card what you +card wool wid. What a card look lak? Humph! Missy, whar you been +raise—ain't neber seed a card? Dat jimcrow sho' did hurt, but us +hadder stan' hit, an' sometimes atter all dat, Mammy she wrap our kinky +hair wid t'read an' twis' so tight us's eyes couldn't hardly shet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Granmammy, her de head cook 'oman at de big house, an' us had to +mine her lak us did Mammy. I ho'p Granmammy in de kitchen, atter I got +big 'nuff an' she sho' did keep me humpin'. Chilluns had to mine dey +olders in dem days. Dey wan't lak dey is now, don't mine nobody, not +eben dey Pa.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de surrender come, Ole Marster he tole all de niggers dey was free +now, an' some was glad an' some was sorry an' welst dey might be sorry, +iffen dey knowed what a hard time dey goner had knockin' 'roun' de worl' +by deyself; no Ole Marster an' no Ole Mistis ter look atter 'em an' feed +'em when dey sick an' when dey well. Look lak ter me, when de surrender +parted de white folks an' de black folks, it hurt 'em bofe. Dey oughter +be tergedder, jes' lak de Good Lord 'tended dey be."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Tildy sighed deeply and, gazing afar off, said: "Iffen Ole Marster +was livin' now, I'd be all right an' not hafter worry 'bout nuffin."</p> +<p class="pnext">In spite of her eighty-four years, Aunt Tildy makes her living as a +mid-wife and serves as a "doctor man" in cases of minor ailments; but +her practice is so closely interwoven with "conju'in'" that it is +difficult to say which is the more important to her. For example: she +prescribes wearing matches in the hair or a little salt on the mole of +the head for headache. Her sovereign remedy for rheumatism is "'nint de +j'ints wid a little kerosene oil an' put some mullen leaves on it." "A +good dost of turpentine is good for mos' anything de matter wid you." A +coin with a hole in it, usually a dime, tied around the ankle will keep +you from getting "pizen." Furthermore, this same treatment warns against +the ill effects of getting "conju'ed." "Iffen you gits conju'ed, de dime +turn black, an' you kin go to de conju' doctor an' git de conju' took +off."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is you got to go, Missy? Come back agin. I's allus proud to see you," +Aunt Tildy called after me from the edge of the porch.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sara-colquitt"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id92">Sara Colquitt</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sara Colquitt</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SHE JUST CAN REMEMBER HER HUSBAND'S NAME</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Sara Colquitt, who used to till the fields in slavery days, now has a +handmaiden of her own. Sara does not know the date of her birth in +Richmond, Virginia, but she says it was more than a century ago. (1937). +The "girl," whom her daughter has employed to take care of the nearly +blind and helpless centenarian, is well past eighty herself, yet she +keeps her charge neat and clean and the cabin in which they live tidy. +Sara's daughter works in the fields nearby at Opelika, Ala. to keep the +family going.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Bill Slaughter and Miss Mary Slaughter was our marster and mistess +and dey had two chilluns, Marsa Robert and Marsa Brat," Sara said. "I +had four brothers and sisters, Tate, Sam, Jennie, and Tenner. Us lived +in log cabins wid dirt floors and dey was built in two long rows. Us +beds was nailed to de wall at one end and us used corn shucks and pine +straw for mattresses.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss Mary was good to us, but us had to work hard and late. I worked in +de fields every day from 'fore daylight to almost plumb dark. I usta +take my littlest baby wid me. I had two chilluns, and I'd tie hit up to +a tree limb to keep off de ants and bugs whilst I hoed and worked de +furrow. All us niggers was fed from de big kitchen and wasn't hongry, +but sometimes us would steal more food dan was give us anyhow.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-92"> +<span id="id20"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Sara Colquitt" src="images/image093colquitt.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Sara Colquitt, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I was one of de spinners, too, and had to do six cuts to de reel at de +time and do hit at night plenty times. Us clothes was homespun osnaburg, +what us would dye, sometimes solid and sometimes checked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Sides working de fields and spinning, sometimes I'd ho'p wid de +cooking up at de Big House when de real cook was sick or us had a passel +of company. Us cooked on a great, big fireplace what had arms hanging +out over de coals to hang pots on to bile. Den us had three-legged +skillets what set right over de coals for frying and sech like. Us +cooked sho' 'nuff bread in dem days, ash cakes, de best thing you ever +et. Dey ain't nothing like dat dese days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was sold oncet before I left Virginia. Den I was brung down to +Alabama and sold from de block for $1,000 to Mr. Sam Rainey, at Camp +Hill, Ala. I still worked in de fields, but I would cook for de white +folks and hope around de Big House on special 'casions. Our overseer was +Mr. Green Ross, and he was a bad one, too. Mean, my goodness! He'd whup +you in a minute. He'd put you in de buck, tie your feet and den set out +to whup you right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He would get us slaves up 'fore day, blowing on his big horn, and us +would work 'twell plumb dark. All de little niggers'd get up, too, and +go up to de Big House to be fed from wooden bowls. Den dey'd be called +ag'in 'fore us come from de fields and put to bed by dark. I useta stop +by de spring house to get de milk, it was good cold too, and tote it up +to de Big House for dinner.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I had two chilluns. Dey was named Lou and Eli, and dey was took care of +like de rest. Us useta have some good times. Us could have all de fun us +wanted on Sa'dday nights, and us sho' had it, cutting monkeyshines and +dancing all night long sometimes. Some would pat and sing, 'Keys not +arunning, Keys not arunning," and us sho' did more'n dance, I'm telling +you. Sometimes our Mistess would come down early to watch us dance.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Next to our dances, de most fun was corn-shucking. Marsa would have de +corn hauled up to de cribs and piled as a house. Den he would invite de +hands 'round to come and ho'p shuck it. Us had two leaders or generals +and choose up two sides. Den us see which side would win first and +holler and sing. I disremembers the hollers jest now. My mind is sorter +missing. Marsa would pass de jug 'round, too. Den dey sho' could work +and dat pile'd just vanish.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us used de white folks' church in de morning. I j'ined de church den, +'cause I always tried to live right and wid de Lord.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come through Dadeville, Ala., us heard 'bout hit and +Marsa hid his money and lots of his fine things in de colored folks's +houses. Dey never found 'em neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lemme see who I married? I mighty nigh forgot who it was I did marry. +Now, I knows. Hit was Prince Hodnett.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, I don't want no more slavery. I hope dey don't have no more such, +'cause hit was terrible.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes'm, I'd be proud to have my picture took."</p> +<p class="pnext">So pridefully Sara's chair was dragged out on the porch by her maid, and +the "picture was took."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mandy-mccullough-cosby"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id93">Mandy McCullough Cosby</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mandy McCullough Cosby</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Margaret Fowler, Fruithurst, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THEY CALLED US MCCULLOUGH'S FREE NIGGERS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Mandy McCullough Cosby puffed reflectively at her mellowed corncob pipe +and began her story:</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Massa, Bryant McCullough, was a Chambers county man. He had so many +slaves I can't tell you de numbah. He didn't know hisself how many he +had. I is now ninety-five years old an' what I remembers mos' is de way +de chillun roll aroun' in de big nurses room." Mandy lives at 1508-Pine +Street, Anniston, Alabama. She was cutting collards for dinner and left +her dishpan and butcher knife to receive her caller.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mist' McCullough, he raised niggahs to sell—an' the little black +chillen play aroun' until 'bout sundown, dey is give dey supper. A long +trough out in a cool place in the bak yard is filled wif good, cold +buttermilk an' cornbread crumbed in, an' dey each is give a spoon, an' +dey eats dey fill. Den dey is ready fo' bed. Some of dem jes' fall ovah +on de groun', asleep, and is picked up, and put on dey pallet in de big +chillens room. Dey was old woman called de nurse, look after 'em. Dey +git good care fo' de master expects dey will bring good money.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Miss, she don't lak to see dem sold, an' she cry ever' time, she so +tender-hearted. But Mist' McCullough is jes' lak mens is today. He jes' +laugh an' go on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But he was good to his black folks. Folks called us 'McCullough's free +niggers.' Wasn't much whippin' went on 'roun' our plantation, but on +some places close to us, they whipped until blood run down. Some places +they even mixed salt an' pepper in water an' bathed 'em with it. The +salt water'd heal, but when the pepper got in there, it burned lak fire, +an' they'd as well get on to work quick, cause they can't be still +nohow.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One woman, on a plantation not so far from us, was expectin', an' they +tied her up under a hack-a-berry tree, an' whipped her until she died. +Mos' any time at night ef you go 'roun' that tree, you could hear that +baby cry. I 'spect you could hear it yet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Everybody said that was murder, an' that something ought to be done +about it, but nothin' ever was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mist' McCullough always give his folks plenty of sumpin' t'eat an' then +he say, 'I's lookin' for plenty uv work.' 'Niggahs fat an' greasy can't +do nothin' but work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother was a loomer. She didn't do nothin' but weave. We all had +reg'lar stints of spinnin' to do, when we come from the fiel'. We set +down an' eat a good supper, an' ever'night until ten o'clock we spin +cuts of cotton, an' reel the tread, an' nex' day, the rolls is carded +an' packed in a basket to be wove.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Spinnin' wheels was in every cabin. Dere was so many of us to be tuk +care of, it took lots of spinnin'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="emma-crockett"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id94">Emma Crockett</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Emma Crockett</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">On the old east road from Livingston to Epes, about six miles north-east +of Livingston, is the "double house" built of widely assorted materials, +where Emma Crockett lives. The older part of the house is the "settin' +room" where the stick-and-clay chimney of its earlier days has been +replaced by a new brick chimney. A roof of corrugated sheet metal tops +the warped, roughly hewn logs which form the walls. The "new room" is +built in the later shanty style—pine boards, unplaned, and nailed +upright to a frame of 2X4's, the cracks of the flat joints "stripped" +with narrow siding. A roof of "bought" shingles covers this room. +Connecting the two rooms is an open hall roofed with heavy boards +"rived" from pine blocks. Despite its conglomerate architecture this is +a better "colored folks'" house than many in the Black Belt. These +"double houses" often have no roof for the hall and some also lack a +floor, the hall being made entirely of earth, sky and imagination.</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma settled herself on the top step at the front of the hall to talk to +me, after first ironing a tiny wrinkle out of her "string apron" with +her hand.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-93"> +<span id="id21"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Emma Crockett" src="images/image098crockett.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Emma Crockett, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Miss, I'm 'bout sebenty-nine or eighty year old," she told me, "and I +belonged to Marse Bill Hawkins and Miss Betty. I lived on deir +plantation right over yander. My mammy was called Cassie Hawkins and my +pappy was Alfred Jolly. I was Emma Jolly 'fore I married Old Henry +Crockett. Us had five chillun and dey's two of 'em livin' in Bummin'ham, +Fannie and Mary.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometimes I kain't git my min' together so as I kin tell nothin'. I +fell out t'other day and had a misery in my head ever since. I wish I +could read, but I wa'n't never l'arnt nothin' 'ceptin' atter Surrender +Miss Sallie Cotes she showed us how to read printin'; but I kain't read +no writin. I kain't tell you so much 'bout de wah' ca'se my recollection +ain't no 'count dese days. All I knowed, 'twas bad times and folks got +whupped, but I kain't say who was to blame; some was good and some was +bad. I seed the patterollers, and atter Surrender de Ku Kluxes dey come +den, but didn't never bother me. See, I wan't so old and I minded +ev'ybody, and didn't vex 'em none. Us didn't go to church none, but I +goes now to de New Prophet Church and my favorite song is:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Set down, set down, set down,</div> +<div class="line">Set down, set down,</div> +<div class="line">Set down, chile, set down.</div> +<div class="line">Soul so happy till I kain't set down.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Move de member, move Dan-u-el,</div> +<div class="line">Move de member, move Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line">Dan-u-el, member, don' move so slow.</div> +<div class="line">Dan-u-el, member, don' move so slow.</div> +<div class="line">Got on my rockin' shoes, Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line">Got on my rockin' shoes, Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock me home,</div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock me home, Dan-u-el,</div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock me home, Dan-u-el,</div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock me home, Dan-u-el,</div> +<div class="line">Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock by faith,</div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock by faith, Dan-u-el,</div> +<div class="line">Shoes gwine to rock by faith, Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Love de member, move Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line">Love de member, move Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line">Got on my starry crown, Dan-u-el.</div> +<div class="line">Got on my starry crown, Dan-u-el.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dat's all I kin tell you today, honey. Come back when dis misery leave +my head and I gwine to think up some tales and old songs.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-94"> +<span id="emma-crockett-s-house"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Emma Crockett's House" src="images/image098crocketthouse.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Emma Crockett's House, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"But I didn't never fool wid no hoodoo and no animal stories neither. I +didn't have no time for no sich foolishness. And I ain't scared of +nothin' neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lives here wid my grandchile now on Mr. Bob Davis' place. Us gits +enough to eat, I reckon, but it's tight, I tell you dat!"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="cheney-cross"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id95">Cheney Cross</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Cheney Cross</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Annie D. Dean</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">GITTIN' MY PENSION</em></p> +<p class="pnext">From all accounts, Aunt Cheney Cross must be quite ninety years old. "In +jewin' de war," she says, "I had done long pass my thirteenth birthday." +Today Aunt Cheney is a true reflection of slavery days and the Southern +mammy.</p> +<p class="pnext">Away from highways and automobiles, she lives several miles from +Evergreen on a small farm in the piney woods with her "baby boy."</p> +<p class="pnext">Talk with Aunt Cheney reveals that Evergreen's city marshall, Harry L. +Riley, "put out to hope" this old family servant who had "tended" to his +father, George Riley; his mother, "Miss Narciss," and "Miss Lizzible," +his sister. She also helped bring his own "chillun" into the world.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Cheney had promised Mr. Riley that she would come in town on a +certain Saturday morning in May, 1937, and would bring a letter from her +young "mistis" for me to read.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was past noon on that particular Saturday when she came up the back +steps, a little out of breath, but smiling. "Lawd, honey," she said, +"here 'tis pas' dinner time an' I'se jes' makin' my arrivement here. +No'm, I don't wants no dinner, thank you jes' de same. Whut makes me so +late here now, I stopped by Miss Ella Northcutt's. She's my folks too, +you know, an' she done made me eat all I kin hole! No'm, honey, I can't +eat no cabbage. Me an' cabbage never is set horses together much, but I +will thank you for the ice tea."</p> +<p class="pnext">Settling herself down in a low chair, she sighed and began taking off +her shoes. "Honey, you don't mind ef I resses my feets does you? My +white folks is sp'ilin' me here today. I'll be lookin' for it +tomorrrow, too, an' I won't be gittin' it." Her black eyes twinkled in +her shiny, old, wrinkled face as she talked on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tole Mr. Harry I'se comin'. An' here I is! How'd I come? I come on +Mack and Charlie, dat's how! Yes, ma'am! Dese two boys here, dey brung +me." Pushing her feet out for inspection, she leaned forward, smiling +and pleased. "Dese here foots, dey's Mack an' Charlie. Dey's my whole +pennunce for gittin' about. Don't you worry none. Mr. Harry he'll git be +back home 'gainst dark come on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lawd, honey, I don't want to know no better folks'n Mr. Harry an' Miss +Emma. I follow dem good folks clean up to Muscle Show! Yessum, I sho' +did. At fust, I tole'm I couldn't go nohow. But dey pull down on me so +hard, look lack I couldn't he'p myself.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I stayed on up dere at Muscle Show twell I got so homesick to see my +baby boy I couldn't stan' it no mo'. Now, cose, my baby boy he was den +de father of his own, a boy an' a girl, but to me dat boy is still jes' +my baby, an' I had to come on home."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Cheney's little, old body shook with laughter as she leaned back +and said: "Yes, ma'am! I ain't been home no time atall neither, 'twell +here come Mr. Harry back to Evergreen wid his own self. Yes, Lawd! I kin +see'm now, comin' up de big hardwood road, his haid raired back, +asmokin' a sugarette lack he's a millinery! Lawd, Lawd! Me nor Mr. Harry +neither one ain't never gona be contentious nowheres but right here. An' +dat's de Gawd's trufe!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Iffen Mr. Harry hadn't come on back here, I never woulda seed no +pension. Dat's de Gawd's trufe, too. Nobody here didn't know my eggzack +age, cause dis wasn't my originally home. All dem whut did know close +onto my age done died out an' I knows it. So when Mr. Harry put out to +hope me, I says in my heart 'Thank Gawd!'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tole Mr. Harry dat iffen anybody in de world knowed my age, it was my +young mistis, an' I didn't know eggzackly where she at, but her papa was +Captain Purifire (Purifoy). Back yonder he was de madistra of our town, +an' he had all of dem lawin' books. I figgered dat my birthright would +be down in one of dem books. I knowed in reason dat my mistis still got +dem books wid her, 'cause dey ain't been no burnin's dat I done heard +about. I knowed, too, dat Mr. Harry was gona fine out where she at.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members Captain Purifire jes' lack a book. I does dat! Now, cose, +when he come on in home from de war he didn't 'zackly favor hisse'f den, +'cause when I seed him comin' roun' de house he look so ragged an' +ornery I tuck him for de ole Bad Man hisse'f. I tuck out behind de smoke +house, an' when I got a good look at him th'ew a crack it look lack I +could recognize his favor, but I couldn't call his name to save my life. +Lawd, honey! He's a sight! All growed over an' bushy! You couldn't tell +iffen he's man or beas'. I kep' on alookin' whilst he's comin' roun' de +corner, an' den I heard him say 'Cheney, dat you?' I'se so happy, I jes' +melt down."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Cheney was really living over her past. "You see, it's +lack dis," she said: "My fore parents, dey was bought. My Mistis +an' my daddy's mistis, too, was Miss Mary Fields, an' my daddy was +Henry Fields. Den de Carters bought my daddy from Miss Mary Fields. +Well, dey mix up an' down lack dat, twell now my young mistis, what +used to be little Frances Purifire, she's married to Mr. Cunningham.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was brung up right in de house wid my white folks. Yessum, I slep' on +de little trundler bed what pushed up under de big bed, in durinst de +day. I watched over dem chillun day an' night. I washed 'em an' fed +'em an' played wid 'em. One of de babies had to take goat's milk. When +she cry, my mistis say, 'Cheney, go on an' git dat goat.' Yes Lawd! An' +dat goat sho' did talk sweet to dat baby! Jes' lack it was her own. She +look at it an' wag her tail so fas' an' say: "Ma-a-a-a-a!" Den she lay +down on de flo' whilst us holes her feets an' let de baby suck de milk. +All de time dat goat bees talkin', 'Ma-a-a-a-a,' twell dat baby got +satchified.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us chillun got tuck wid any kind of sickness or zeezes, us tuck +azzifizzity an' garlit. You know, garlit what smell lack onions. Den we +wore some roun' us necks. Dat kep' off flu-anz.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dese days it look lack somepin t'eat don't tas'e lack dat we cooked +back yonder. De coffee us used had to be fresh groun' ever' day. An' +when it commence to bile, I put dese here knees down on de flo' befo' de +fire an' stir dat coffee for de longes'. Den my gran'ma she hung dat pot +up on dem pot hooks over de fire an' washed de meat an' drap it in. Time +she done pick an' overlook de greens an' den wrinched 'em in spring +water, de meat was bilin'. Den she take a great big mess of dem fresh +turnip greens an' squash 'em down in dat pot. Dey jes' melt down an' go +to seasonin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nex' thing I knowed, here come my mistis, an' she say: 'Now Cheney, I +wants some pone bread for dinner.' Dem hick'ry coals in dat fire place +was all time ready an' hot. They wouldn't be no finger prints lef' on +dat pone when Cheney got th'ew pattin' it out neither. Better not! Look +lack dem chillun jes' couldn't git 'nuff of dat hard corn bread.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Plenty of fancy cookin' went on 'roun' dat fire place, but somehow de +pot licker an' pone bread longside wid de fresh buttermilk stirs my +mem'ry worse'n anything.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All dis good eatin' I'se speakin' 'bout tuck place befo' de Yankees +raided us. It was den, too, dat my mistis tuck me down to de spring back +of de house. Down dere it was a holler tree stump, taller'n you is. She +tell me to clam' up to de top of dat holler tree, den she han' me a big +heavy bundle, all wropped up an' tied tight. Hit sho' was heavy! Den she +say: 'Drap it in, Cheney.' I didn't know den whut she's up to, but dat +was de silver an' jew'lry she was hidin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes honey, I 'members dat Yankee raid lack it was jes' yistiddy. I'se +settin' dere in de loom room, an' Mr. Thad Watts' lil' gal, Louise, +she's standin' at the winder. She say: 'O-o-oh! Nannie! Jes' look down +yonder!' 'Baby, what is dat?' I says. 'Dem's de Yankees comin'!' 'Gawd +hep us!' I says, an' befo' I kin ketch my bref, de place is kivvered. +You couldn't stir 'em up wid a stick. Feets sounded lack mutterin' +thunder. Dem bayonets stick up lack dey jes' setting on de mouf of dey +guns. Dey swords hangin' on dey sides singin' a chune whilst dey walk. A +chicken better not pass by. Iffen he do, off come his head!</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dey pass on by me, dey put' nigh shuck me outa my skin. 'Where's +de men's?' dey say an' shake me up. 'Where's de arms?' Dey shake me +twell my eye balls loosen up. 'Where's de silver?' Lawd! Was my teefs +drappin' out? Dey didn't give me time to ketch my bref. All de time, +Miss Mary jes' look 'em in de eye an' say nothin'!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey tuck dem enfield rifles, half as long as dat door, an' bus' in de +smoke house winder. Dey jack me up off'n my feet an' drag me up de +ladder an' say: 'Git dat meat out.' I kep' on th'owin' out Miss Mary's +hams an' sawsidges, twell dey holler 'stop'. I come backin' down dat +ladder lack a squirrel, an' I ain't stop backin' twell I retch Miss +Mary.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, Lawd! Dem Yankees loaded up a waggin full of meat an' tuck de +whole barrel of 'lasses! Takin' dat 'lasses kilt us chillun! Our mainest +'musement was makin' 'lasses candy. Den us cake walk 'roun' it. Now dat +was all gone. Look lack dem sojers had to sharpen dey swords on +ever'thing in sight. De big crepe mullen bush by de parlor winder was +bloomin' so pink an' pretty, an' dey jes' stood dere an' whack off dem +blooms lack folkses heads drappin' on de groun'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I seed de sargeant when he run his bayonet clean th'ew Miss Mary's +bestest feather bed an' rip it slam open! Wid dat, a win' blowed up an' +tuck dem feathers ever' which away for Sunday. You couldn't see where +you's at. De sargeant, he jes' th'owed his head back an' laugh fit to +kill hisse'f. Den fust thing next, he done suck a feather down his +win'pipe! Lawd, honey, dat white man sho' struggled. Dem sojers th'owed +water in his face. Dey shuck'm an' beat'm an' roll'm over, an' all de +time he's gettin' limberer an' bluerer. Den dey jack him up by his feets +an' stan'm on his haid. Den dey pump him up an' down. Den dey shuck'm +twell he spit. Den he come to.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey didn't cut no mo' mattrusses. An' dey didn't cut nothin' much up in +de parlor, 'cause dat's where de lieutenant an' de sargeant slep'. But +dey lef' de nex' day, de whole place was strewed wid mutilation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members well back dere in jewin' de war how ever' oncet a month that +come 'roun' a big box, longer'n I is an' wider too, was tuck to our +sojer boys on de battle fiel'. You never seed de lack of sawsidges dat +went in dat box! Wid cake an' chicken an' pies, an' Lawd! de butter all +rolled up in corn shucks to keep it fresh. Ever'body from ever'where +come to fix dat box an' he'p pile in de stuff. Den you hear 'em say: +'Poor sojers! Put it in here!' Den ever'thing look sorta misty, an' dey +haids droop over, lack. Den you see a mother's bres' heave wid her +silent prayer.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Directly atter de surrender, de Ku Kluxes sho' was bad atter de +Yankees. Dey do all sorts of things to aggivate 'em. Dey's continual' +tyin' grape vines crost de road, to git 'em tangled up an' make 'em trip +up an' break dey own necks. Dat was bad too, 'cause dem poor Yankees +never s'picioned no better'n dat dem vines jes' blowed down or somepin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Long about den, too, seem lack ha'nts an' spairits was ridin' +ever'thing! Dey raided mostly 'roun' de grabeyard. Lawd, honey, I ain't +hankerin' atter passin' by no grabeyards. 'Cose, I knows I got to go in +dere some day, but dey do make me feel lonesome an' kinder jubus.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members one night, way back dere, when I'se walkin' down de big road +wid Bud, an' he say: 'Look! Didn't you see me give dat road? Dat ha'nt +done push me clean outa my place.' Now let me tell you somepin. Iffen +you ain't never been dat clost to a ha'nt, you don't know nothin'! I +'lowed he gwine follow me home. When I got dere I shuck mustard seeds +down on my flo'. When you sprinkles 'em lack dat he can't git outa dat +room twell he done count ever' las' one of dem seed. Well sir, de nex' +mawnin' all us could see was somepin lack a lump of jelly layin' dere on +de flo' 'mongst dem seeds. Look lack he done counted hisse'f to a pulp.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After dat night, I puts a big sifter down at my do'. You know ha'nts +has to count ever' hole in dat sifter befo' dey can come th'ough. Some +folks puts de Bible down dere, too. Den de poor spairit has to read +ever' word of dat book befo' he crosses over.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I reckon 'bout de terriblest thing ever happen to me was dat big +lookin' glass. De lookin' glass was all laid out in de top of my trunk, +waitin' for my weddin' day. One night I'se standin' by de trunk wid hit +wide open. I seed somepin black befo' my eyes an' den a screech owl lit +in my winder an' screech right in my face. I'se so scared I sot right +down in de middle of dat lookin' glass. Hit bus' in a million pieces! +Mamma th'owed up her han's an' holler, 'Git up from dere, gal. You gona +have seven years of bad luck. Shoo dat hootin' owl away befo' you dies +in your tracks!' Den I swoons off. I feels dem ha'nts gittin' ready to +ride me clean down in my grabe. 'Bout den somepin kep' sayin' to me, +over an' over: 'Th'ow dem pieces of lookin' glass in runnin' water.' Den +hit say: 'Burn your mammy's ole shoe an' de screech owl leave.' Atter I +does dat my min' was at res'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Soon as my daddy hear 'em firin' off for de Surrender, he put out for +de plantation where he fust belong. He lef' me wid my mistis at Pine +Flat, but 'twan't long twell he come back to git me an' carry me home +wid him. I hates to leave my mistis, an' she didn't want to part from +me. She say: 'Stay here wid me, an' I'll give you a school learnin'.' +She say to Captain Purifire: 'You go buy my li'l nigger a book. Git one +of dem Blue Back Websters,' she say, 'so I kin eddicate her to spell.' +Den my daddy say: 'Her mamma tole me not to come home widout her an' she +has to go wid me.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never will fergit ridin' behin' my daddy on dat mule way in de night. +Us lef' in sich a hurry I didn't git none of my cloze hardly, an' I +ain't seed my mistis from dat day to dis!"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="matilda-pugh-daniel"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id96">Matilda Pugh Daniel</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Matilda Pugh Daniel</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">MATILDA WAS WED IN DE WHITE FOLKS' PARLOR</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Near Eufaula, Alabama, on a bluff stands a little three room cabin +neatly furnished with plain, well worn, but nicely kept furniture. +Surrounding the house are small beds of pretty flowers, and rows of +fresh vegetables. Here resides in peace and tranquility Aunt Matilda +Pugh Daniel, an old Negro slave, aged 96 years. Aunt Matilda was a full +grown buxom gal when the War between the States was raging. She belonged +to United States Senator, James L. Pugh, and was born on his plantation, +near Eufaula. Even though time has dimmed her sight, and slightly +diminished her hearing powers, she is still active of mind and accurate +in her memories. We will let her speak for herself:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, white folks, I remembers lots of things dat happen in de +slabery times. I works aroun' de house for mistis, who was de daughter +of Gen'l John Linguard Hunter befo' she ma'ied de massa. When I was a +little pig-tailed nigger, I usta play 'roun' wid Massa's chilluns. We +play injuns in de woods, an' buil' dams down on de creek an' swing in de +yard an' sometime we sho do devilish things. We hid red pepper in ole +Black Bob's chewin' bacca, an' you ought to seed de faces he made. It +makes me laugh still yit. Den we tuken a skunk dat us little white an' +black debils kotched an' turn him loose in de slave quarters. You ought +ter seed dem niggers come a flyin' outer dere. Dey come out like a swarm +of wet antses.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter I grew up I ma'ied Joe Daniel, a house nigger, an' Gen'l Hunter, +de Mistis's pappy 'formed de ceremony. We was ma'ied in de parlor, an' I +wo' a party dress of Miss Sara's. It sho' was purty; made outen white +tarleton wid a pink bow in de front. I had a pink ribbon 'roun' my haid +too, an' Joe, he look proud of me. Atter de weddin' all de niggers on de +plantation gathered about an' we had a soiree in de back yard. Me an' +Joe moved to de quarter den, but I still worked in de house. Mistis +warn't goin' ter let nobody wash dem julep glasses but me, an' warn't +nobody a goin' ter polish dat silber but dis here nigger. Nawsuh.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-95"> +<span id="id22"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Matilda Pugh Daniel" src="images/image109daniel.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Matilda Pugh Daniel, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Durin' de war us warn't bothered much, but atter de surrender, some po' +white trash tried to make us take some lan'. Some of 'em come to de +slave quarters, an' talk to us. Dey say 'Niggers, you is jus' as good as +de white fo'ks. You is 'titled to vote in de 'lections an' to have money +same as dey,' but most of us didn't pay no 'tention to 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den Massa James an' Mistis moved to Washington, an' Miss Sara wanted me +to go wid her to be her house maid. She said she'd pay me money fo' it, +but I couldn't leave my ole man, Joe, kaze he had a case of consumption. +Joe died a year later an' lef' me wid fo' little chilluns. Us stayed +'roun' on de plantation an' de new massa paid us good money fo' workin', +but soon de house kotched fire an' burn to de groun', an' I have to move +to Eufaula. I bought dis little house wid de money I saved. I has +kinfolks in Detroit dat sen's me a little money, an' some good peoples +in Eufaula helps me out some so I is in purty good financial shape. I +ain't neber 'sociated wid no trashy niggers an' I ain't neber 'ten' to. +I is goin' to be a proud an' good nigger to de las'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="carrie-davis"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id97">Carrie Davis</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Carrie Davis</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Lee County, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">PLANTATION PUNISHMENT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Carrie Davis said "Honey, dere was a lot of cruel things done in slavery +times."</p> +<p class="pnext">She was washing when I arrived at her shanty near Smith's Station, +Alabama. She asked, as so many of the old Negroes do, "Has you come to +help me?" I said: "No, Carrie; I want you to tell me about slavery."</p> +<p class="pnext">She shook her gray head, recalled: "Dem was good an' bad times, Mistus; +good an' bad. I had a purty good marster; but de marster on de +plantation dat j'ined our'n was mighty mean. He was a bad man, no matter +if de slaves behaved or not.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I 'members dat he had regular days to whup all de slaves wid +strops. De strops had holes in 'em so dat dey raised big blisters. Den +dey took a hand saw, cut de blisters and washed 'em in salt water. Our +Ol' Mistus has put salve on aheap of backs so dey could git deir shirts +off. De shirts'd stick, you see. De slaves would come to our house for +water an' Mistus would see 'em."</p> +<p class="pnext">Asked about her life as a slave, she said: "I was borned in Harris +County, Georgia, an' was 'bout ten or twelve when freedom come. My mammy +an' pappy was Martha an' Nathan Perry and had seben chillun. Besides me, +dere was Amy, Ida, Knoxie, Jim, Abraham, an' Franklin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us lived in de Perry quarters. De cabins was made of split logs, put up +edgeways and daubed wid mud inside an' out. Dey was 'bout a hundred +yards from de big house, whar Marster Billy an' Mistus Nancy Perry +lived. Deir chillun was Clara Maria, Malinda, Sara, Alec, Jim, an' Bill. +Dey was real good to us, too. Us et at de big house. 'Course de food was +cooked on de fireplace, but us had meat and greens but not much +biscuits. Us had collards an' cabbage, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometimes us would have wild game, 'ca'se de men hunted lots an' +kotched rabbits, 'possums and coons. Dey also kotched a lot of fish.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, our beds warn't so good. Dey was homemade and de sides was +scantlings wid legs nailed on. Den slats was nailed on top of it to put +our shuck-and-straw mattresses on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grand-parents was from Virginny. When I was a slave I was used as a +house-girl and to help keep de yards clean and bring in water. Us wore +mostly slips, wove in homemade looms; an' dey was osnaburg an' homespun. +We wore 'em Sunday and Monday de same. Us shoes was made at a tanyard +and dey was brogans as hard as rocks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat some of our white neighbors was poor and didn't have no +slaves. Dey would help us work. De overseer couldn't whip dem, but he +would make dem work hard and late. I 'members, too, dat de overseer +waked us up wid a trumpet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey useta tell us dat if us didn't work dey was going to sell us to +help feed de rest; and bless yo' soul, us niggers'd go to work, too. +Marster wasn't mean. He would jest lock de slaves in de crib fer +punishment. When slaves was sold, I seed many a nigger put on de block +for five and six hundred dollars.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us couldn't leave de plantation widout a pass; and you better not let +'em kotch you wid a book. Us walked to de white church an' set in de +back. Mr. Davey Snell preach and baptize, and dey had foot-washin's. +Sometimes de niggers'd git so happy dey would shout. Den dey would keep +shoutin' in de fields next day and git a whipping.</p> +<p class="pnext">"If a nigger got out widout a pass, dey sot de hounds on you; and de +patrollers'd tear you up too, if you stayed out too late.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-96"> +<span id="id23"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Carrie Davis" src="images/image111davis.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Carrie Davis, Smith's Station, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Us had sech good times on Sattidy nights; frolic, dance an' +cornshuckin's. Most of 'em would be drinkin' and sing and holler:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Sheep's in de cotton patch;</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Got 'im out Monday.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Had it been a white man;</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Got 'im out Sunday.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Kid Kimbrough was our leader, and he could sing 'Dixie,' too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Christmas mornin' us'd have a better breakfast and dey would give us +rations at de big house. When any of de slaves got married dey went up +to de white folks' house an' jumped over de broom. Dat was de ceremony +at de weddin'. And if marster wanted to mix his stock of slaves wid a +strong stock on 'nother plantation, dey would do de mens an' women jest +lak horses. I 'members dat when two niggers married, dey got a big +supper.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All us chilluns had a big time; played 'Pretty Pauline,' 'Turn, +Charlie,' an' sech-lak.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm I never did see nor b'lieve in ghosts.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us got sick Mistus'd give horse-mint, life-everlasting, goldenrod, +an' holly teas, yessum. And us wore asafetida and pop-ball seed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come, dey handcuffed our folks and took 'em off. +Marster had his meat, corn, fodder, and sech hauled in de swamp near de +plantation. Dem Yankees went as straight to it as if dey had seed us put +it dere. Dey burned it all up and took some niggers from de other farm.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When freedom come, I 'members dat marster told us dat us was free, but +dat we could stay on if we lacked. Most of us stayed on wid him for a +spell. Now and den de Ku Klux Klan'd come around and beat on a nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Charlie Gibson and had two chillun, twelve grand-chilluns +and nine great-grandchilluns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I's heard Abraham Lincoln's name, but don't know nothin' 'bout +him. I got tired livin' 'mong wicked peoples; and I wanted to be saved. +Dat's why I j'ined de church and still tries to de right."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="clara-davis"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id98">Clara Davis</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Clara Davis</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Francois Ludgere Diard</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">AUNT CLARA DAVIS IS HOMESICK FOR OLD SCENES</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"I was bawn in de year 1845, white folks," said Aunt Clara, "on de +Mosley plantation in Bellvy jus' nawth of Monroeville. Us had a mighty +pretty place back dar. Massa Mosely had near 'bout five hundred acres +an' mos' near to one hundred slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Was Marse Mosely good to us? Lor', honey, how you talk. Co'se he was! +He was de bes' white man in de lan'. Us had eve'y thing dat we could +hope to eat: turkey, chicken, beef, lamb, poke, vegetables, fruits, +aigs, butter, milk ... we jus' had eve'y thing, white folks, eve'ything. +Dem was de good ole days. How I longs to be back dar wid my ole folks +an' a playin' wid de chilluns down by de creek. 'Tain't nothin' lak it +today, nawsuh. When I tell you 'bout it you gwine to wish you was dar +too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks, you can have your automobiles an' paved streets an' +electric lights. I don't want 'em. You can have de busses an' street +cars an' hot pavements an' high buildin' 'caze I ain't got no use for +'em no way. But I'll tell you what I does want. I wants my ole cotton +bed an' de moonlight nights a shinin' through de willow trees an' de +cool grass under my feets as I runned aroun' ketchin' lightnin' bugs. I +wants to hear de sound of de hounds in de woods atter de 'possum, an' de +smell of fresh mowed hay. I wants to feel de sway of de ol' wagon +a-goin' down de red, dusty road an' listen to de wheels groanin' as dey +rolls along. I wants to sink my teeth into some of dat good ol' ash +cake, an' smack de good ol' sorghum offen my mouth. White folks, I wants +to see de boats a passin' up an' down de Alabamy ribber an' hear de +slaves a singin' at dere work. I wants to see de dawn break over de +black ridge an' de twilight settle over de place spreadin' a sort of +orange hue over de place. I wants to walk de paths th'ew de woods an' +see de rabbits an' watch de birds an' listen to frogs at night. But dey +tuk me away f'om dat a long time ago. 'Twern't long befo' I ma'ied an' +had chilluns, but don't none of 'em 'tribute to my suppote now. One of +'em was killed in de big war wid Germany and de res' is all scattered +out ... eight of 'em. Now I jus' live f'om han' to mouth; here one day, +somewhere else de nex'. I guess we's all a-goin' to die iffen dis +'pression don't let us 'lone. Maybe someday I'll git to go home. Dey +tells me dat when a pusson crosses dat ribber, de Lawd gives him whut he +wants. I done tol' de Lawd I don't want nothin' much ... only my home, +white folks. I don't think dat's much to axe for. I supposed he'll sen' +me back dar. I been a-waitin' for him to call."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="george-dillard"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id99">George Dillard</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with George Dillard</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Alice L. Barton</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I LOVED TO PICK DAT BOX</em></p> +<p class="pnext">George Dillard, born in Richmond, Va., in 1852, now idles about his +little home at Eutaw and recalls days when he was a slave. The memories +bring smiles to his wrinkled, black face.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, dar was a dance every Sattidy night," he chuckled, "an' all de +niggers nigh 'bout broke dey legs adancin'."</p> +<p class="pnext">"And didn't you dance just as hard as the others, Uncle George?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Mistus, I was right spry; but I was at my best in de job of +pickin' de banjer. I shorely did love to pick dat box while de other +niggers danced away."</p> +<p class="pnext">George said his family came from Virginia to Mississippi, and that he +came to Greene County about 60 years ago. His two masters were a Mr. +Dillard and Bob Steele.</p> +<p class="pnext">George explained that he was a field hand and had to work hard most of +the time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But us had plenty to eat," he said. "De food was cooked in Ol' Mistus' +kitchen an' sont to de fiel' on a big cart. I 'member dat a bell would +ring for us to git up, an' we would work as long as it was daylight."</p> +<p class="pnext">George said that Mr. Steele owned about 200 slaves and that he always +had plenty of everything. The plantation, he said, consisted of about +2,000 acres.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Massa had a church right on de plantation for us niggers," he +continued. "Many's de time I danced late in de night an' den had to git +up an' go to church wid de rest. All of us had to go. A white man would +preach, but I allus enjoyed de singin' most of all."</p> +<p class="pnext">George believes earnestly that ghosts exist, but admits they have never +bothered him.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-97"> +<span id="id24"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="George Dillard" src="images/image117dillard.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +George Dillard, Eutaw, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Dey is all aroun'," he maintains, "but dey don't follow me. No'm, I's +not 'fraid of 'em; but I knows plenty of niggers dat'll run if a ghost +so much as brushes by 'em."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old darkey said that "atter freedom come to de worl'" he continued +to live with his master and worked a share crop. He said that Mr. Steele +was always fair and good to him; always giving him the best of +everything.</p> +<p class="pnext">George married Celia Shelton, and to them were born twenty-four +children.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was a bunch of dem," he said, "but I loved ebry one. I had a nice +weddin' an' de white folks helped me to git myself a 'oman an' then to +git married to her."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ella-dilliard"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id100">Ella Dilliard</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Ella Dilliard</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">756 Canal Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">ELLA'S WHITE HEN IS HEAPS OF COMPANY</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Ella Dilliard, an old Negro woman who lives at 756 Canal Street, Mobile, +says she was a small girl during slavery time, and does not know the +hardships of it, because she was owned by good people. Her mother's name +was Mary Norris, owned by Mrs. Calvin Norris, who lived in Selma, Ala., +but had a homestead in Mobile. Her father belonged to people by the name +of Childress, and his name was Green Childress. She doesn't remember +much about him because his white people took him to Texas.</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella said that her mother was her madame's hairdresser, and that Mrs. +Norris had her mother taught in Mobile. So Ella's life was very easy, as +she stayed around the big house with her mother, although her +grandmother, Penny Anne Norris, cared for her more than her mother did. +One of the things she remembers quite distinctly was her grandmother's +cooking on the fireplace, and how she would not allow any one to spit in +the fireplace. She said her grandmother made corn-pone and wrapped it in +shucks and baked it in ashes.</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella said she did not know many colored people, since the quarters were +quite a ways from the big house, and that the plantation was managed by +an overseer. She said the quarters were built in rows with streets +between them.</p> +<p class="pnext">She also remembers the first boat she ever saw that was when she was +brought to Mobile after the surrender, and when she saw the boat she +said to her mother: "Look at that house sitting on the water."</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella said that there were three cooks at the big house, their names +being Hannah, Judy, and Charlotte, and the gardener's name was Uncle +John. Ella also said that one thing that she remembers so well about the +kitchen in the big house was a large dishpan, that had a partition in +the middle of it, one side you washed the dishes in, and the other side +was used for scalding them.</p> +<p class="pnext">The slaves always had Saturdays to wash their clothes and do things for +themselves. Ella, not having lived among Negroes, does not know much +about their habits and customs, but she does remember seeing the big +white covered wagons that the slaves were carried in to be sold; and +remembers hearing talk of the "Pattyrollers." She said when the slaves +were sold, they were put on a block, and that the man who were buying +would look in their mouths just like they did horses.</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella said she was born in Greensboro, Alabama, but the plantation where +she later lived was on the Alabama river near Selma, Ala. She doesn't +know how many acres it comprised, or how many slaves that her master +owned. She remembers her madame made her stop calling her mother +"mammy," and her father "daddy." She said: "You know, Miss, that the +white children now-a-days calls their parents 'mammy and daddy' like the +colored people used to. The children now do not respect their parents as +they should, and in fact everything is so different the truth done 'be +under the table.' You know, miss, I am telling the truth, because the +Bible says, 'Woe be unto the one that lies; Judgment is on the land.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"In those days people had to work to live, and they raised most +everything they used, such as cattle, hogs, cotton, and foodstuff. Then +the women spun the thread out of the cotton, and wove the cloth."</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella helped her grandmother at the weaving by picking up the shuttles +for her. She said they generally used the cloth as it was woven. The +shoes were made on the place and were called red brogans.</p> +<p class="pnext">As for the churches, the white folks had the brush arbor camp meetings, +where the people would go and camp in little cabins for weeks, so they +could attend the church. They had newspapers then, Ella said, "but +'course they ain't like you have now, there warn't so many as there is +now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You asked something, miss, about medicines. I don't remember much about +any medicine, because Mr. Calvin Norris was a doctor, and he always +treated us when we were sick. There was a Dr. Browder who 'tended the +plantation."</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella is a bright colored, small woman, whose eyes are very keen. She +says that a short time ago she had some trouble with her eyes, and she +got something from the drug store to bathe them with, but it did not +help them. So she caught some pure rain water and "anointed" her eyes +with that, and now she can see to thread a needle. Her life has been +very colorful in many respects. She recalled as a small child, that, +during the war, a minie-ball came through a brick wall of the servant +house where they were living, but it fell without harming any of the +servants. She said when Wilson's raid was made on Selma, that the Yankee +men went through the houses just like dogs, taking whatever they wanted.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members Mr. Parkman putting two sacks of money down in his big well, +and him getting it out with hooks after the Yankees left."</p> +<p class="pnext">Later when she was brought to Mobile she worked for Judge Oliver Semmes +for twenty years. Judge Semmes was the son of Admiral Raphael Semmes, +and she said he was a blessed, good man. For the past fourteen years she +has been working for the Frank Lyons family of Mobile.</p> +<p class="pnext">Ella lives in a double tenement house, having one room and a small +kitchen. The room is full of old furniture and odd things. On the mantle +is a lovely old china pitcher that once was owned by Judge Semmes and +which Ella prizes very much. The thing that puzzles Ella most among the +modern inventions, she said, are the aeroplanes, and the way ice is +made. She said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss, we never had any ice way back yonder. We had nice, old, open +brick wells, and the water was just like ice. We would draw the water +and put around the milk and butter in the dairy. It's a mystery to me +how they make that ice, but, my goodness! I guess I need not worry my +head about things, because I am not here for long. All my family is dead +and gone now, and the only companion I have is this here little white +hen. Her name is Mary. You see, I bought her last year to kill for +Christmas, but I couldn't do it. She is so human; and you ought to see +the eggs she lays. I even have a few to sell sometimes. I just keeps +Mary in the room at night with me, and she is heaps of company for me."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="rufus-dirt"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id101">Rufus Dirt</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Rufus Dirt</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Woodrow Hand, Birmingham, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">RUFUS WOULD TALK A LOT FOR A DIME</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Foreword: This Negro, Rufus Dirt, was found on one of Birmingham's +busiest streets begging for coins. Because of his inability to read, he +was unable to give the number or location of his home. All he knew was +"jes' som'ers on Southside, boss."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'll drop a dime in your hat uncle if you'll stand here and talk to me +for a few minutes."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sho' boss, iffen you wants, I'll talk all day fo' dat much money. I'se +been here fo' a long time an' I knows plenty to talk 'bout. What does +yo' want to know?"</p> +<p class="pnext">I explained my interest in slavery days and my search for ex-slaves, but +he began telling me before I had time to finish. His ability to talk had +somehow escaped what his age had done to his hair, which was sparse as +well as snowy white. His eyes were a glazy red. One hand and arm seemed +to be crippled, but the other waved around in the air as he talked and +finally settled on my shoulder.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Boss, I don' rightly know jes' how old I is. I was a driver (Negro boss +of other slaves) during slavery and I reckons I was about twenty +sompin'. I don' remember nothin' in particular that caused me to get dat +drivin' job, ceptin' hard work, but I knows dat I was proud of it 'cause +I didn' have to work so hard no mo'. An' den it sorta' made de other +niggers look up to me, an' you knows us niggers, boss. Nothin' makes us +happier dan' to strut in front of other niggers. Dere ain't nothin' much +to tell about. We jes' moved one crop atter de other till layin' by time +come and den we'd start in on de winter work. We done jes' 'bout de same +as all de other plantations.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My massa's name was Digby and we live at Tuscaloosa befo' de war. An' +'bout dat war, white folks. Dem was some scary times. De nigger women +was a-feared to breathe out loud come night an' in de day time, dey +didn't work much 'cause dey was allus lookin' fo' de Yankees. Dey didn' +come by so much 'cause atter de first few times. Dere wa'nt no reason to +come by. Dey had done et up ever'thing and toted off what dey didn' eat. +Dey tuk all Massa's stock, burned down de smokehouse atter dey tuk de +meat out, an' dey burned de barn, an' we'all think ever' time dat dey +goin' to burn de house down, but dey musta forgot to do dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de war was finally over an' I was free, my family went to +Vicksburg, Mississippi where we made a livin' first one way an' den de +other. I don't know how long we stayed dere, but I was livin' in +Bummin'ham when dere wa'nt nothin' much here a'tall. I watched all de +big buildin's 'round here go up and I see'd dem build all de big plants +and I'se still watchin', but I still don' know how to tell folks where +places is, 'cause I don' know how to read numbers. I goes anywhere I +wants to go an' I don't ever get lost, but jes' de same, I can't tell +nobody where I am. I don' even know where we is standin' talking like +dis right now. An' boss, I ain't beggin' 'cause I'se too lazy to work. +I'se worked plenty in my time till I crippled dis arm in de mines and +befo' my eyes got so bad," and with a grace and gentleness that may be +called a characteristic of his generation, he added, "I hope I'se told +you what you wants to know."</p> +<p class="pnext">He had. I felt well repaid for the dime I had given him. As he walked +off down the street, I noticed for the first time the large crowd that +had gathered around us. Evidently slave tales carry more interest than +this writer realized.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="katherine-eppes"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id102">Katherine Eppes</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Katherine Eppes</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">CABINS AS FAR AS YOU COULD SEE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Ma" Eppes sat on the steps of her weatherbeaten, unpainted little +cabin, duplicate of the dozens that make up Rat Row, Negro quarter of +Uniontown, and looked down the vista of memory to her childhood when she +lived in "where de log cabins stretched as far as you could see in de +slave qua'ters."</p> +<p class="pnext">Despite her eighty-seven years, Katherine Eppes, known to everyone as +"Ma," came as spryly to her tiny porch as her rotund body would permit. +She smiled broadly at her interviewer and seated herself slowly.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sho', honey, I can tell you mo'n anything you want to know 'bout the +big fight, 'ca'se I been here a long time," she began her story. "Dey +ain't many lef' to tell 'bout dem days. My mammy an' pappy was Peter an' +Emma Lines an' us all belonged to Marsa Frank and Miss Sarah Lines. I +was born on dey plantation five miles below Faunsdale 'bout 1850 so dey +tells me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I is right ol' but thank Gawd I still got my teefies an' my ha'r lef'." +Proudly the old woman unwrapped her "head rag" to display a thick mop, +woolly white but neatly parted into squares. Dozens of little plaits, +wrapped with yards of twine, just as her hair had been dressed in the +slave quarters before the War, adorned her head. She sat with uncovered +head unblinking in the bright June sunshine, as she took up the tale of +her health. "I sees pretty good, too, but I's so hebby I ain't able to +toe myse'f 'roun' as pert as I useter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It was diff'rent back in dem days when I belonged to rich white folks. +Dey had plenty of niggers an' dey was log cabins in de quarters jes' as +far as your eyes could see. Marsa Frank an' Miss Sarah was good to de +black folks, too. Dey son, young marsa Frank, fit in de big war. Atter +de war was over I stayed on de Lines' place 'twell atter I ma'ied, an' +Ol' Miss gin me my weddin' dress an' a long veil down to my foots.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us was chillun in de quarters we did a mighty lot of playin'. Us +useta play 'Sail away Rauley' a whole lot. Us would hol' han's an' go +'roun' in a ring, gittin' faster an' faster an' dem what fell down was +outa de game.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy wukked in de Big House, aspinnin' an' anussin' de white +chillun. All of dem called her 'mammy.' Ah 'members one thing jes' lack +it was yestiddy. Miss Sarah went to 'Mospolis (Demopolis) to visit wid +her sister, an' whilst she were gone de oberseer, what go by de name of +Allen, whupped my Mammy crost her back 'twell de blood runned out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Miss Sarah comed back an' foun' it out, she was de maddes white +lady I eber seed. She sont for de oberseer, an' she say: 'Allen, what +you mean by whupping Mammy? You know I don't allow you to tech my house +servants.' She jerk her dress down an' stan' dere lookin' like a sojer +wid her white shoulders shinin' lack a snow bank, an' she say: 'I +'druther see dem marks on my own shoulders dan to see 'em on Mammy's. +Dey wouldn't hurt me no wuss.' Den she say: 'Allen, teck your fambly an' +git offen my place. Don't you let sundown ketch you here. 'So he lef'. +He wasn't nothin' but white trash nohow."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ma" Eppes sat silent for a time as she recalled the vision of Miss +Sarah standing straight and regal in her dismissal of the overseer. +Finally she turned with an abrupt change of subject.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, is you a Christian?" she asked earnestly. "I hopes you is, ca'se +you is too fine lookin' for to go to Hell. I b'longs to de Baptis' +Church, an' dey calls me Ma Eppes 'ca'se I's de mother of de church. I +loves to sing de gospel Hymns."</p> +<p class="pnext">She began to sing in a high, cracked voice, her body swaying with the +rhythm. The song rose until her neighbors had gathered to form quite an +audience. With much moaning between every line, she sang:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">"I am a sojer of de Cross,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">A follerer of de Lam'.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">I'm not afeard to own His name,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Nor to 'fen' His cause."</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">(Chorus)</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">"I wan' you to come,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I wan' you to come,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">I wan' you to come</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">An' be saved."</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">She was still singing as I left her, the neighbors joining in the +choruses. Suppers would be late in the row of weatherbeaten cabins, +because the spirit of song was on the gathering.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="reuben-fitzpatrick"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id103">Reuben Fitzpatrick</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Reuben Fitzpatrick</strong></div> +<div class="line">—[HW: <em class="italics">Mabel Farrior, Montgomery, Alabama]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A HORN FOR A HEADACHE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Reuben Fitzpatrick, of Eugene Street, Montgomery, was born Jan. 9, 1854, +(83 years old). He says:</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Marster was Mister Gholson frum Bullock county. He had lots uv +slaves 'cause he was a rich man. I was jes' a boy ten years ole an' he +was a squire dat tried cases, so he rode all over de country to dif'funt +places. I rode wid him to hole his horse. He wore a high top black hat +and had a buggy wid a top dat let back. When we went we was gone a long +time an' when night come he would fix it fer me to sleep wid some uv de +niggers in de quarters where we stopped. I sho' lacked to go 'bout wid +him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother was de cook. She had rule over all the cookin'. She spinned +thread an' reeled it off too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come through de country I seed 'em all runnin' so I +thought it was jedgment day an' I runned an' hid under de chimney an' +stayed dere 'tel night. Dey didn't tarry long, but dey drove de horses +right up on de piazza, and throwed ever' thing out de houses, eben +knocked down de smoke 'ouse doors. Dat's de trufe'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One time I was taken to the slave market and I was screwed on the block +and Mr. Martin bought me and my Mamma. The man that was selling us would +holler, "Who'll bid? Who'll bid?" We was supposed to be spry and fidgety +so as to make the men want to buy us. My fust Marster was Wash Jones. He +wan't good to us. He would hit us wid his cane jes' as if it had been a +switch. Ben Jones didn't like the way Marse Wash treated us niggers. He +bought us for his son.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We didn't have no doctors much in dem days, but us had a horn us use +when we got sick. If us had the headache that horn would go right over +the spot and it wouldn't be no time 'fore the pain'd be gone. We'd use +that horn anytime we was ailing an' it'd sho' do the work. I used to +have the horn but I don't know jes' where it is now."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="heywood-ford"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id104">Heywood Ford</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Heywood Ford</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HEYWOOD FORD TELLS A STORY</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks," said Heywood Ford, "I'se gonna tell you a story 'bout a +mean oberseer an' whut happened to him durin' de slabery days. It all +commenced when a nigger named Jake Williams got a whuppin' for stayin' +out atter de time on his pass done gib out. All de niggers on de place +hated de oberseer wuss dan pizen, 'caze he was so mean an' useta try to +think up things to whup us for.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One mornin' de slaves was lined up ready to eat dere breakfas' an' Jake +Williams was a pettin' his ole red-bone houn'. 'Bout dat time de +oberseer come up an' seed Jake a pettin' his houn' an' he say: 'Nigger +you ain't got time to be a-foolin' 'long dat dog. Now make him git.' +Jake tried to make de dog go home, but de dog didn't want to leave Jake. +Den de oberseer pick up a rock an' slam de dog in de back. De dog he den +went a-howlin' off.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat night Jake he come to my cabin an' he say to me: 'Heywood, I is +gonna run away to a free State. I ain't a-gonna put up wid dis treatment +no longer. I can't stand much mo'. I gibs him my han' an' I say: 'Jake, +I hopes you gits dere. Maybe I'll see you ag'in sometime.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Heywood,' he says, 'I wish you'd look atter my houn', Belle. Feed her +an' keep her de bes' you kin. She a mighty good possum an' coon dog. I +hates to part wid her, but I knows dat you is de bes' pusson I could +leave her wid.' An' wid dat Jake slip out de do' an' I seed him +a-walkin' toward de swamp down de long furrows of cawn.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It didn't take dat oberseer long to fin' out dat Jake done run away, +an', when he did, he got out de blood houn's an' started off atter him. +It warn't long afore Jake heered dem houn's a-howlin' in de distance. +Jake he was too tired to go any further. He circled 'roun' an' doubled +on his tracks so as to confuse de houn's an' den he clumb a tree. +T'warn't long afore he seed de light of de oberseer comin' th'ough de +woods and de dogs was a-gittin' closer an' closer. Finally dey smelled +de tree dat Jake was in an' dey started barkin' 'roun' it. De oberseer +lif' his lighted pine knot in de air so's he could see Jake. He say: +'Nigger, come on down fum dere. You done wasted 'nuff of our time.' But +Jake, he neber move nor make a sound an' all de time de dogs keppa +howlin' an' de oberseer keppa swearin'. 'Come on down,' he say ag'in; +'iffen you don't I'se comin' up an' knock you outen de tree wid a +stick.' Jake still he neber moved an' de oberseer den began to climb de +tree. When he got where he could almos' reach Jake he swung dat stick +an' it come down on Jake's leg an' hurt him tur'ble. Jake, he raised his +foot an' kicked de oberseer raght in de mouf, an' dat white man went a +tumblin' to de groun'. When he hit de earth dem houn's pounced on him. +Jake he den lowered hisself to de bottom limbs so's he could see what +had happened. He saw de dogs a-tearin' at de man an' he holla: 'Hol' +'im, Belle! Hol' 'im, gal!' De leader of dat pack of houn's, white +folks, warn't no blood houn'. She was a plain old red-bone possum an' +coon dog, an' de res' done jus' lak she done, tearin' at de oberseer's +th'oat. All de while, Jake he a-hollerin' f'um de tree fer dem dogs to +git 'im. 'Twarn't long afore dem dogs to' dat man all to pieces. He died +raght under dat maple tree dat he run Jake up. Jake he an' dat coon +houn' struck off through de woods. De res' of de pack come home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I seed Jake atter us niggers was freed. Dat's how come I knowed all +'bout it. It musta been six years atter dey killed de oberseer. It was +in Kentucky dat I run across Jake. He was a-sittin' on some steps of a +nigger cabin. A houn' dog was a-sittin' at his side. I tells him how +glad I is to see him, an' den I look at de dog. 'Dat ain't Belle,' I +says. 'Naw,' Jake answers, 'Dis her puppy.' Den he tol' me de whole +story. I always did want to know what happen to 'em."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="bert-frederick"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id105">Bert Frederick</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Bert Frederick</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">WANTS MY FRIENDS TO GO WID ME</em></p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">"Wants my friends to go wid me, New Jerusalem;</div> +<div class="line">Wonder ef I'll ever git to heaven, New Jerusalem!"</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Nappy-headed, humble little Bert Frederick sang the old song in a voice +that trembled and broke on the high notes. His black face beamed when he +had finished, and "de old times" came flooding back into his mind.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, Ol' Master us'ta sing dat good song to us niggers; an' he allus +could sing it so purty."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Frederick, like all the other gray-bearded Negroes of the Old +South, is occupied mostly these days with getting ready to meet "de +Sweet Jesus." As well as he can remember, he was around 12 years old +when "de hawn of freedom sounded."</p> +<p class="pnext">He shook his white head when the interviewer asked his age, a slow smile +spreading over his face.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey chile, you's axed me a riddle. I disremember 'bout dat. De bes' I +kin till you is dat I is eighty-odd—but as to 'zackness, I can't tell."</p> +<p class="pnext">Some years ago, Uncle Frederick suffered a broken back in an accident. +Since then he has been unable to stand erect, but can straighten his +back when seated. Therefore, he politely asked to sit down when he was +asked to pose for a picture.</p> +<p class="pnext">His first master, he says, was Dr. Rich Vernon, who lived in Chambers +County. Afterward, he was sold to William Frederick.</p> +<p class="pnext">He chuckled as he recalled the old days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was a shirt-tail nigger," he laughed. "Dat is, I wore jes' a long +shirt 'twel I was a big scamp more dan twelve year old. Honey, I was a +sight to look at!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Whut did I do about de plantation? Well, I driv de cows an' sheep to +pasture an' seed dat no eagles kotched de lambs. Us had big eagles +'roun' den, an' us had to be keerful wid de small stock. Ef us warn't, +ol' eagle ud swoop down an' tote off a whole lamb.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had a time in dem days. I 'members dat us had a pen to ketch wild +turkeys in. An' us kotched a few of dem, too."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Frederick's mother was Harriett Lumpkin, who lived below Opelika. +He had three sisters, Mary Dowdell, Anne Carlisle and Emma Boyd; but all +are dead.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-98"> +<span id="id25"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Bert Frederick" src="images/image132frederick.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Bert Frederick, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"When de Yankees come to Alabama," he recalled, "Ol' Master tol' de +niggers to hitch up all de wagons an' load all de food an' sech on 'em. +Us had 'bout forty acres of swamp land, so us hid de stuff dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Fore long I seed a long string of black an' white horses, wid mules +behin' dem. Dey had packs on dey back. In de packs was grub de Yankees +had tuk off'en de white peoples."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Did you enjoy the old slavery days, Uncle?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, chile, dey was good days. Some of de white peoples was bad to de +niggers, but my Ol' Master warn't dat kind. Dat de reason he would let +all de niggers sit aroun' whilst he was a singin'; an' he could sing."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Frederick putters about his tiny home in Opelika, managing to grow +a profusion of flowers and vegetables despite his bent back. He was +hoeing in his garden when the interviewer came upon him, but he eagerly +laid down the hoe when told what he sought.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle, I want to talk with you about the old times."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lordy me, chile," he beamed, his eyes twinkling, "you done foun' de +raght nigger!"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="delia-garlic"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id106">Delia Garlic</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Delia Garlic</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Margaret Fowler, Fruithurst, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DEM DAYS WAS HELL</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Delia Garlic lives at 43 Stone Street, Montgomery, and insists she is +100 years old. Unlike many of the old Negroes of the South, she has no +good words for slavery days or the old masters, declaring: "Dem days was +hell."</p> +<p class="pnext">She sat on her front porch and assailed the taking of young children +from mothers and selling them in different parts of the country.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was growed up when de war come," she said, "an' I was a mother befo' +it closed. Babies was snatched from dere mother's breas' an' sold to +speculators. Chilluns was separated from sisters an' brothers an' never +saw each other ag'in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Course dey cry; you think dey not cry when dey was sold lak cattle? I +could tell you 'bout it all day, but even den you couldn't guess de +awfulness of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It's bad to belong to folks dat own you soul an' body; dat can tie you +up a tree, wid yo' face to de tree an' yo' arms fastened tight aroun' +it; who take a long curlin' whip an' cut de blood ever' lick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Folks a mile away could hear dem awful whippings. Dey was a turrible +part of livin'."</p> +<p class="pnext">Delia said she was born at Powhatan, Virginia, and was the youngest of +thirteen children.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never seed none of my brothers an' sisters 'cept brother William," +she said. "Him an' my mother an' me was brought in a speculator's drove +to Richmon' an' put in a warehouse wid a drove of other niggers. Den we +was all put on a block an' sol' to de highes' bidder.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never seed brother William ag'in. Mammy an' me was sold to a man by +de name of Carter, who was de sheriff of de county.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, dey warn't no good times at his house. He was a widower an' his +daughter kept house for him. I nursed for her, an' one day I was playin' +wid de baby. It hurt its li'l han' an' commenced to cry, an' she whirl +on me, pick up a hot iron an' run it all down my arm an' han'. It took +off de flesh when she done it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter awhile, marster married ag'in; but things warn't no better. I +seed his wife blackin' her eyebrows wid smut one day, so I thought I'd +black mine jes' for fun. I rubbed some smut on my eyebrows an' forgot to +rub it off, an' she kotched me. She was powerful mad an' yelled: 'You +black devil, I'll show you how to mock your betters.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den she pick up a stick of stovewood an' flails it ag'in' my head. I +didn't know nothin' more 'till I come to, lyin' on de floor. I heard de +mistus say to one of de girls: 'I thought her thick skull and cap of +wool could take it better than that.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I kept on stayin' dere, an' one night de marster come in drunk an' set +at de table wid his head lollin' aroun'. I was waitin' on de table, an' +he look up an' see me. I was skeered, an' dat made him awful mad. He +called an overseer an' tol' him: 'Take her out an' beat some sense in +her.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I begin to cry an' run an' run in de night; but finally I run back by +de quarters an' heard mammy callin' me. I went in, an' raght away dey +come for me. A horse was standin' in front of de house, an' I was took +dat very night to Richmon' an' sold to a speculator ag'in. I never seed +my mammy any more.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I has thought many times through all dese years how mammy looked dat +night. She pressed my han' in bofe of hers an' said: 'Be good an' trus' +in de Lawd.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Trustin' was de only hope of de pore black critters in dem days. Us +jest prayed fer strength to endure it to de end. We didn't 'spect +nothin' but to stay in bondage 'till we died.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-99"> +<span id="id26"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Delia Garlic" src="images/image135garlic.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Delia Garlic, Montgomery, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I was sol' by de speculator to a man in McDonough, Ga. I don't +ricollect his name, but he was openin' a big hotel at McDonough an' +bought me to wait on tables. But when de time come aroun' to pay for me, +his hotel done fail. Den de Atlanta man dat bought de hotel bought me, +too. 'Fo' long, dough, I was sol' to a man by de name of Garlic, down in +Louisiana, an' I stayed wid him 'till I was freed. I was a regular fiel' +han', plowin' an' hoein' an' choppin' cotton.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us heard talk 'bout de war, but us didn't pay no 'tention. Us never +dreamed dat freedom would ever come."</p> +<p class="pnext">Delia was asked if the slaves ever had any parties or dances on her +plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm," she replied, "us didn't have no parties; nothin' lak dat. Us +didn't have no clothes for goin' 'roun. I never had a undershirt until +jest befo' my first chil' was borned. I never had nothin' but a shimmy +an' a slip for a dress, an' it was made out'en de cheapes' cloth dat +could be bought; unbleached cloth, coarse, but made to las'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us didn't know nothin' 'cept to work. Us was up by three or four in de +mornin' an' everybody got dey somethin' to eat in de kitchen. Dey didn't +give us no way to cook, nor nothin' to cook in our cabins. Soon as us +dressed us went by de kitchen an' got our piece of cornbread. Dey wasn't +even no salt in dem las' years. Dat piece of cornbread was all us had +for breakfus', an' for supper, us had de same.</p> +<p class="pnext">"For dinner us had boiled vittles; greens, peas an' sometimes beans. +Coffee? No'm, us never knowed nothin' 'bout coffee.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One mornin' I 'members I had started to de fiel', an' on de way I los' +my piece of bread. I didn't know what to do. I started back to try to +fin' it, an' it was too dark to see. But I walk back raght slow, an' had +a dog dat walked wid me. He went on ahead, an' atter awhile I come on +him lyin' dere guardin' dat piece of bread. He never touched it, so I +gived him some of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Jus' befo' de war I married a man named Chatfield from another +plantation; but he was took off to war an' I never seed him ag'in. Atter +awhile I married a boy on de plantation named Miles Garlic.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas'm, Massa Garlic had two boys in de war. When dey went off de Massa +an' missis cried, but it made us glad to see dem cry. Dey made us cry so +much.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When we knowed we was free, everybody wanted to git out. De rule was +dat if you stayed in yo' cabin you could keep it, but if you lef', you +los' it. Miles was workin' at Wetumpka, an' he slipped in an' out so us +could keep on livin' in de cabin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My secon' baby soon come, an' raght den I made up my min' to go to +Wetumpka where Miles was workin' for de railroad. I went on down dere +an' us settled down.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter Miles died, I lived dere long as I could an' den come to +Montgomery to live wid my son. I'se eatin' white bread now an' havin' de +best time of my life. But when de Lawd say, 'Delia, well done; come up +higher,' I'll be glad to go."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="angie-garrett"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id107">Angie Garrett</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Angie Garrett</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">MULES BE EATIN' AND NIGGERS BE EATIN'</em></p> +<p class="pnext">She sat in the door of her small cabin, a short distance from +Livingston, Alabama, in philosophical reflection. Time has not softened +her memories. As she told these facts an occasional expression of +bitterness passed over her face.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's Angie Garrett," she said. I was about sixteen years at beginning uv +de Wa'. I was born in De Kalb, Mississippi. My mother was Betty Scott, +an' I didn't know my father's name. I had four brothers, Ember, Johnny, +Jimmie, and Henry; and three sisters, Delphie, Lizzie Sue, and Frankie, +and my grandmother was Sukie Scott. She lived five miles from +Gainesville across Noxubee Creek (in full, Oka Noxubee) an' I lived wid +her. Never axed 'bout my grand-daddy, 'caze wa'n't no tellin'. My mammy +lived right here in Gainesville an' belong to Mr. Sam Harwood.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I b'longed to de Moorings and Cap'n Mooring run on a boat to Mobile +from Aberdeen, Mississippi, 'twus on de 'Bigbee river, an' 'twus called +de <em class="italics">Cremonia</em>. I was de house gal an' nuss an' I slep' on a pallet in +old Miss's room. I had plenty to eat long as us was on dat boat, and dat +sho' was good. But when us was in De Kalb, vittles was giv' out at de +smoke house, a slice o' meat and piece of bread and peas, and 'twus +sarnt out ter de fiel'. Mules be eatin' and niggers be eatin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I nussed de Moorings little boy Johnny. De little gal had died. Mr. +Scott in De Kalb had 'bout fifty slaves and a big plantation and a +overseer name' Barnes. He was a haughty man, and niggers was skeered to +death 'caze he would come in a-cussin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us would git up 'fo' daylight. 'Twus dark when go out, dark when come +in. Us make a little fire in de fiel' some mawnin's, hit beeze so cold; +dan us let it go out 'fo' de overseer come. Ef he seed you he'd make +yer lay down flat on yo' belly, foots tied out and han's tied out and +whoop yer wid slapper leather strap wid a handle. But I was laid 'cross +a cheer. I been whooped 'tel I tell lies on myself to make 'em quit. Say +dey whoop 'till I'd tell de troof, so I had ter lie 'bout myse'f keep +'em from killin' me. Dis here race is mo' lac de chillun uv Isreal, +'cept dey didn't have ter shoot no gun ter set um free.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was sole ter Mr. Johnny Mooring, 'caze de property was in debt. And +den fuss I b'longed ter Mrs. Scott at De Kalb, and her sole me, an' I +sho' was glad. I walked here to Gainesville frum De Kalb, Mississippi. +Us wa'n't 'lowed to learn nothin'. Sometimes us sing and have a little +prayer meetin', but 'twus mighty easy and quiet like. Gran'ma Sukey use' +to sing, "Travel on, travel on, Soon be Over."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ef any us died in dem days, buried us quick as dey could and got out of +dere and got to work. At night dey blow'd de horn for 'em to bring in de +cotton w'ut de women spinned. Dey made all de clof. Us worked nights +too, but us rested Sundays. Us didn't git no presents at Christmas. +Sometimes us had a corn shuckin', and no celebration for no marriage. +Dat was called "jumpin' de broom," jes' taken up wid 'em. Dey all want +you to have plenty of chillun, though.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us wo' asafetida 'roun' us neck keep off de small pox and measles. Us +didn't have much medicine and some of um was always full of bad +complaints lac' Carrie, my neighbor, whut you axed about. I bees +a-hurtin', but I can't never git in edgeways for her. Always got a lot +excuses; doan' never 'spects to die 'thout folks knows whut ails her. +But she brought me some black-eyed peas today, and I lac's um 'caze dey +biles sof', and I say 'ef de devil brought hit, God sarnt hit.' +Sometimes I bees hongry, an' I say, 'Whut is I'm gwinter eat?', and +along come somebody wid sumpin'.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-100"> +<span id="id27"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Angie Garrett" src="images/image139garrett.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Angie Garrett, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Wish you could of heered dat calliope on de <em class="italics">Cremonia</em>. Dey dance some +time 'mos' all night, but dey didn't act lac' dey do now. 'Twus nice +behavior. Look lac' ev'ything goin' back ter heathenism, and hits on de +way now. But de good Lord he'ps me. He hol's my han'. I ain't got +nothin' 'gin nobody. I doan' see no need of fussin' and fightin' an' +a-drinkin' whiskey. Us livin' in a new worl' and I go on makin' de bes' +I kin of hit. Some I lac, some I doan'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I got one daughter, Fannie Watson, a good washer and ironer right here +in Gainesville, and I got a son, too, say he ain't gonna marry 'tel he +kin treat de 'oman good as she kin treat herse'f. I makes him wait on +me, and he gits mighty raw sometimes, but I tells him I'm jes' much +older den he is now as I was when he was bawn. Den he gives me a old +dirty dime, but now wid dese here tokens, you gotter pay some of hit fer +spendin'. Dey tells me hit's de Governor, and I say 'let him carry 'em; +he kin tote 'em, I ain't able.' Well, once ain't always, and twice ain't +forever.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, I doan' never go ter church no mo'. De preachers here is goin' +bline about money. Dey ain't interested in dey soul. Some folks b'longs +ter de church an' ain't been changed. De church ain't all of hit. I +'members day uv 'manicpation. Yankees tole us we was free, and dey call +us up frum de fiel' to sign up an' see ef us wanted to stay on wid 'em. +I stayed dat year wid de Moorings, den I bargain for lan', but couldn't +never pay fer hit. Turned loose 'thout nothin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But dey was a coal black free born nigger name George Wright, had a +floatin' mill right here on de 'Bigbee River, stayed at de p'int of de +woods jes' 'bove de spring branch, and hit did a good service. But he +got in debt and he sole his five boys. Dey was his own chillun, and he +could sell 'em under de law. De names was Eber, Eli, Ezekiel, Enoch, and +Ezra, an' he sole 'em ter de highes' bidder right yonder 'front of de +Pos' Office for cash. And Jack Tom was another free nigger here and he +bought some of 'em, and dey others de white folks bought, and I never +heerd no complaint and I seed 'em long as dey lived. Dey was a heap of +things went on. Some I lac's to remember, some I doan'. But I'd rather +be free now. I never seed Mr. Lincoln, but when dey tole me 'bout him, I +thought he was partly God.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But Mr. John Rogers right here, (he's dead an' gone now), he was whut +he was and wasn't 'ceitful. Go to him ef you got into anything, and he +more'n apt to tell you whut to do. He was wile when he was young, but he +settle down and was de bes' white man to de niggers I ever know'd. He'd +he'p me right now ef he was livin' and seen me wearin' dis here rag +nasty, he sho' would."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="henry-garry"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id108">Henry Garry</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Henry Garry</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">W.F. Jordan, Birmingham, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">MR. RENFROE HANGS ON A CHINYBERRY TREE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Howdy Cap'n! Kin you tell me how to fin' Jedge Ab's co't? I knowed +'zactly whar hit was in de ole co't house, but I gits all bumfuzzled +tryin' to fin' anybody in dis new buildin'."</p> +<p class="pnext">His name was Henry Garry. He wore a suit of faded and extensively +patched Confederate gray and a cap of the regulation porter's style. His +face bore the expression worn only by those of his race who had lived +and toiled in a much earlier and in many instances, happier day. In the +presence of "white folks" he was at ease, indicating an intimate +association and relationship among them and in their service.</p> +<p class="pnext">"What business have you in Judge Abernathy's court? You don't look like +a criminal," was the response.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, nawsah, I ain't neber done nothin' to nobody no time. But I sho' +don't know what dis new generation of nigguhs comin' to. Hit war bad +'nough when dey couldn' git nothin' but bootleg cawn licker; now dey kin +buy all de gin dey wants right here in Bummin'ham, an' dem rapscallions +git out on Sat'd'y night, fill up on gin an' git all lit up lak a +meetin' house. Den de fust thing dey know dey gits tangled up wid +somebody wid a razor or a meat axe or somp'n an' 'long come de law, +locks 'em up an' de debil's to pay."</p> +<p class="pnext">"But why should all that disturb you? They haven't run you in have +they?" he was asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, hits dat triflin' nevvew of mine. Dat boy kin sho' git into mo' +kin's of trouble dan a pet monkey. He in jail now for some debilment or +yuther an' I 'spect I'se gwine to hab to git him out ag'in. Dat's what +I'se gwine to see Jedge Ab 'bout. Wisht I could git dat boy back down in +Sumter County on Marse John Rogers' plantation. Dat's whar he b'long at. +Betcha Marse John wouldn' take none of his foolishment."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Are you familiar with the people and history of Sumter County?" he was +quizzed further.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lawd man, I was bawn in de back yahd whar Marse John Rogers live right +now. Dat was right atter de surrender an' my mammy b'long to de +Vandegraaf family who useter live dar an' owned all dat plantation. My +daddy's name was Daniel Grady. Dey come f'um Virginny long time 'fo' de +wah. All dem ole peoples is dead now. Onlies' kinfolks I hab lef' down +dah is a cousin. She mos' a hundert yeahs ole an' still libs on her +little farm a few miles from Gainesville. An' Cap'n when I says libs, I +means libs. Ain't nothin' dat grow outten de groun' nor in de groun' in +Alabama dat's good for folks to eat but what she got it an' plenty. I +goes down dar to visit her twicet a yeah, an', man alive, hit am a sin +de 'mount of grub I puts away endurin' dem two weeks I stays dar. +Yassah, I'se 'bout due to go down dah now, 'caze dat gyarden sass en' +spring chickens jes' 'bout ripe.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy was a seamstress for de Vandegraaf plantation an' made all de +clothes for bofe black and white. She neber did leave de plantation +atter de slaves was freed but stayed right dar till she died, she an' my +daddy bofe. But dey was good hones', 'spectable, chu'ch-goin' people, my +daddy an' mammy was. De little log chu'ch house is still dar an' de +niggers still keeps up de services. De ole pastor nearly a hundert +yeahs ole now, but it would s'prise you how spry he gits 'bout an' +conduc's de meetin's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know 'bout yuther parts, but from what my mammy tell me de +slaves in Sumter County mus' hab had a mighty good time, had plenty of +ebery t'ing an' nothin' to worry 'bout. Seems lak dar warn't no trouble +'mongst de whites an' blacks 'twell atter de wah. Some white mens come +down from de Norf' an' mess up wid de niggers. I was a mighty little +shaver, but I 'members one night atter supper, my daddy and mammy an' us +chilluns was settin' under a big tree by our cabin in de quarters when +all at wunst, lickety split, heah come gallopin' down de road what look +lak a whole army of ghos'es. Mus' hab been 'bout a hundert an' dey was +men ridin' hosses wid de men and hosses bofe robed in white.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cap'n, dem mens look lak dey ten feet high an' dey hosses big as +elephan's. Dey didn't bodder nobody at de qua'ters, but de leader of de +crowd ride right in de front gate an' up to de big dug well back of our +cabin an' holler to my daddy. 'Come heah nigguh! Ho-oh!, 'cose we +skeered. Yassuh, look lak our time done come.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy went ober to whar he settin' on his hoss at de well. Den he +say, 'Nigguh git a bucket an' draw me some cool water.' Daddy got a +bucket, fill it up an' han' it to him. Cap'n, would you b'lieve it? Dat +man jes' lif' dat bucket to his mouf' an' neber stop twell it empty. Did +he hab 'nough? He jes' smack his mouf an' call for mo'. Jes' lak dat, he +didn' stop twell he drunk three buckets full. Den he jes' wipe his mouf +an' say, 'Lawdy, dat sho' was good. Hit was de fust drink of water I'se +had sence I was killed at de battle of Shiloh.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Was we good? Cap'n, from den on dar wasn't a nigger dare stick his head +out de do' fo' a week. But nex' day we fin' out dey was Ku Kluxes an' +dey foun' de body of a white man hangin' to a pos' oak tree ober by +Gran' Prairie. His name was Billings an' he come from de Norf. He been +ober 'roun' Livingston messin' up de niggers tellin' 'em dey had been +promised forty acres and a mule, an' dey ought to go 'head an' take 'em +from de white folks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But dat carpetbagger couldn' do nothin' wid ole Slick 'dough. Slick? +Yassah, dat what ebe'ybody call him. He hang 'roun' de co'te house at +Livingston an' listen to de lawyers argufy. He try to 'member all de big +words dem lawyers use. When dat carpetbagger come to town dat nigger +Slick was carryin' his bag to de hotel an' when dey pass de mineral well +in de street, de man axed Slick, 'What dat water good for? Hab it been +tested?' Slick say, 'Oh yassah, dat water been scanalyzed by de bes' +fenologists in de country, an' dey say hit's three quarters carbolic +acid gas, an' de yuther seben eights is hydrophobia.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassah, dat ole cannon in de co'te house yahd at Livingston was drug +outten de Tombigbee ribber whar de Yankees done sunk it time of de wah. +De Men's useter load 'er up an' shoot 'er off on big days at Livingston. +Dey had to spike de ole gun, 'dough, to keep de deblish boys 'roun' town +from shootin' it off jes' fo' fun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Git rid of de carpetbaggers? Oh yassah, dey vote 'em out. Well, sah, +tell you how dey done dat. De 'publicans done paid all de niggers' poll +tax, an' gib 'em a receipt so dey could vote same as de whites. Dey made +up to 'lect de officers at de co't house all niggers an' den sen' +yuther ones to Montgomery to make de laws. Same day de 'lection come off +dar was a circus in Livingston an' de Demmycrats 'suaded de boss man of +de circus to let all Sumter County niggers in de show by showin' dere +poll tax receipts. Yessah, when de show was ober de 'lection was ober +too, an' nobody was 'lected 'cepin' white Demmycrats.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Cose dat made Sumter County a mighty onhealthy place for carpetbaggers +an' uppity niggers.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-101"> +<span id="id28"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Henry Garry" src="images/image143garry.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Henry Garry, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Yo' ax me 'bout de old songs de slaves useter sing. Well, I don't +'members many of dem. Atter de S'render all de ole slaves what stayed on +de plantations 'roun' Gainesville useter gather at de landin' dar +waitin' to see de steamboats pull in from down de Tombigbee on dere way +to Columbus, (Miss.), an' somebody'd start a song, an', Law' man, how +dem niggers sing. Here one I heerd my mammy sing so much I learnt it:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">"Read in de bible, understan'</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Methuselah was de oldes' man.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">He lived nine hundred an' sixty nine</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Den died an' go to Heben in de Lawd's due time.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Methuselah was a witness</div> +<div class="line">For my Lawd,</div> +<div class="line">For my Lawd.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="line">"Read in de Bible, Understan'</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Samson was de stronges' man.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Went out to battle to fight one time</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Killed a thousan' of de Philistines.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Samson was a witness</div> +<div class="line">For my Lawd,</div> +<div class="line">For my Lawd.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="line">"Daniel was a Hebrew chile,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Went to de Lawd to pray a while.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">De Lawd tole de angels de lions to keep,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">So Daniel lay down an' went to sleep.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">An' dat's anoder witness</div> +<div class="line">For my Lawd,</div> +<div class="line">For my Lawd.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Now 'bout de ghos' tales. I neber heerd many ghos' yarns 'cep' 'bout de +chinyberry tree whar dey hung Mistah Steve Renfroe. He was 'lected High +Sheriff dat time dey got all de niggers to go to de circus 'stead of +goin' to de 'lection. He a fine lookin' man an' ride a big white hoss +an' ebe'ybody lak him a lot 'cep' de carpetbaggers an' boddersome +niggers. No matter whar, if he meet one of 'em, he look 'em squar' in de +eye for a minute, den 'bout all he say would be, 'Get to hell outten +heah!' An' man, iffen dey could fly dat would be too slow trabelin' for +'em, gettin' outten de county. But atter while he got in trouble 'bout +money matters. Dey say he got color blind, couldn' tell his money from +de county's. So dey 'rest him an' put him in jail, but he bust right out +an' run off. Atter while he sneak back an' 'caze his Ku Klux frien's +wouldn' help him outten de trouble when he got back in jail, he give 'em +away an' tell what dere name was. One night a gang took him outten de +Livingston jail an' go 'bout a mile outten town an' hang him to a +chinyberry tree. I'se hyeard iffen you go to dat tree today an' kinda +tap on hit an say, 'Renfroe, Renfroe; what did you do?' De tree say +right back at you, 'Nothin'.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, folks down 'roun' Gainesville didn' pay much min' to signs an' +conju' an' all dat stuff. My mammy wouldn' let us tote a axe on our +shoulder th'ough de house, an' she wouldn' 'low a umbrella to be opened +in de house, say hit bring bad luck. She neber fail to hab cown-fiel' +peas an hawg-jowl for dinner on New Yeah's Day. She say hit a sign you +hab plenty to eat balance ob de yeah. She put a ball of asafetida on a +string an' make all us chillun wear it 'roun' our neck to keep off +sickness. If a owl begin to hoot ober in Tombigbee bottom too close to +de house, she put de shovel in de fire to make him stop.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wall, sir, I come to Bummin'ham mos' forty yeahs ago when Marse Josiah +Morris finish de Morris Hotel. I fust run de elevators a while, den dey +wukked me in de saloon what useter be jes' back of de office. I been +heah eber sence. I 'speck 'bout de las' thing dat'll happen to dis ole +nigguh will be to haul him away from de Morris Hotel in a black box.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But Lawdy, Cap'n, I got to git up to Jedge Ab's co't. Lissen, Cap'n, +iffen I gits dat no'count nevvew outten jail I sho' would lak to git him +a job. You don't know nobody what don't want to hire nobody to do +nothin' does you?"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="georgia"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id109">Georgia</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Georgia</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DEY PLANTED DE SILVER IN DE FIEL'</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"No, honey, I neber seed my mammy. She died when I was bawn, an' my +Mistis Mary Mitchell raised me in de Big House. I was named a'ter her +sister, Miss Georgia. I slep' in her room an I was a house nigger all my +days. I neber went to a nigger chu'ch 'tell I was grown an' ma'd, didn' +sociate wid niggers 'cause I was a nu'smaid. I raised Miss Molly, her +las' baby.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was bawn at 'Elmoreland', Massa Americus Mitchell's place, mor'n +ninety yeahs ago, an' a'ter freedom I stayed dah 'tel ole Massa died an' +my Mistis moved to Eufaula to live wid her son, Mahs Merry.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout all I know of de wawh is when dey said—'de Yankees is comin', de +Yankees is comin'.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us sho' was skeerd, an' dere'd be some fas' doin's about de place. All +de cattle an' hawgs an hosses we driv' to de swamp on de nawth creek, +an' de feather beds down dere too an' hid 'em in de brush an' leaves. My +Mistis tied her trinkets in sacks an' put 'em in outlandish places lak +de hen-house an de hay lof'. An' de silver, dey planted in de +fiel."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="fannie-gibson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id110">Fannie Gibson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Fannie Gibson</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">J.R. Jones, Columbus, Georgia</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Fannie Gibson was born the slave property of Mr. Benajer Goff, a planter +of near Roanoke, Alabama. She says that during her girlhood she "piddled +in de fiels an hepped in de kitchen o' de big house."</p> +<p class="pnext">She has very pleasant memories of slave days, and "wishes to God dat she +was as comforbly (comfortably) fixed now as she was den."</p> +<p class="pnext">Her ante-bellum owner she pictures as a very humane, Christian +gentleman—a man that took great interest in the material and spiritual +welfare of his slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">Two hymns, sung by 'Aunt' Fannie for her interviewer, are appended.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><em class="italics">Going Home To Live With The Lord.</em></div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Goin' home soon in de mornin',</div> +<div class="line">Goin' home soon in de mornin',</div> +<div class="line">I's goin' home to live with de Lord.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">In de mornin' so soon,</div> +<div class="line">In de mornin' so soon,</div> +<div class="line">I's goin' home to live with de Lord.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">I's goin' home to live with de Lord,</div> +<div class="line">I's goin' home to live with de Lord,</div> +<div class="line">I's goin' home soon in de mornin'.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">O, de Lord is a-waitin' for me,</div> +<div class="line">O, de Lord is a-waitin' for me,</div> +<div class="line">I's goin' home soon in de mornin'.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line"><em class="italics">Where Were You When You Found The Lord?</em></div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">My brother, where were you,</div> +<div class="line">My brother, where were you,</div> +<div class="line">My brother, where were you,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">When you found the Lord?</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">I was low down in the valley,</div> +<div class="line">I was low down in the valley,</div> +<div class="line">I was low down in the valley,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">When I first found the Lord.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">My sister, where were you,</div> +<div class="line">My sister, where were you,</div> +<div class="line">My sister, where were you,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">When you found the Lord?</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">I was low down in the valley,</div> +<div class="line">I was low down in the valley,</div> +<div class="line">I was low down in the valley,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">When I first found the Lord.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">This song can be extended indefinitely by addressing the question to +various members of one's family, and to friends.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="frank-gill"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id111">Frank Gill</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Frank Gill</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">708 South Hamilton Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A SLAVE BOY ESCAPES WHIPPING BY PULLING TAIL OF FROCK COAT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">A low, stout, sleek headed Negro man, sat in an old rocking chair in an +end room of a long row of rooms of a tenement house at 708 South +Hamilton Street, Mobile, Alabama. This old darkey said, when asked by +the writer if he lived during slavery times: "I not only lived durin' +slavery times, but I was here before a gun was fired, an' b'fore Lincoln +was elected. I tells you, Miss, de fust time I 'members anything—a tale +of any kind. I was livin' in Vicksburg, Lee County, Mississippi, an' mah +maw an' paw's names was Amelia Williams an' Hiram Gill. I couldn't tells +you whar dey war from, dough. But I does know dat Mista Arthur an' +George Foster owned us, up 'til I war a big boy. De way it was, dere +mother, Ol' Missy, was a widow, an' her had dese two boys, an' she had +money, I tells you she had barrels ob money; so when de two boys got old +enough she divide de slaves, an' property 'tween 'em. Me an' mah maw +fell to Arthur Foster, and sum ob our kindred fell to George Foster. +Mister George was a Captain in de army an' was killed near Vicksburg.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Ol' Missy's place shore was big, I couldn't say how many acres dere +was, but hit run four or five miles, an' she owned hundreds ob slaves. +She had lots ob log cabin quarters, whut had de cracks daubed wid mud, +an' den ceiled wid boards. I'se tellin' you dey was twice as warm as de +houses we lib in now. Dey had chimbleys built ob mud an' sticks, an' had +big wide, fireplaces, dat we cooked on, an' de beds was homemade, but +Lor' dey was heaps stronger dan dey is now, in dese times. Dem beds was +morticed together.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As I said b'fore I was a boy between fourteen or fifteen years old +b'fore de slaves was divided, an' when I was on de Ol' Missy's place, I +stayed aroun' de house, an' wait on dem, an' 'tend de horses. Anudder +thing I had to do, dey would send me for the mail. I had to go twelve +miles atter hit an' I couldn't read or write, but I could bring +everybody's mail to dem jes' right. I knowed I had better git hit right. +You see I could kinder figure, so I could make out by de numbers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Missy an' Mister Arthur both was good to me an' all de slaves, dey +'low de slaves to make dere own patch ob cotton, an' raise chickens, an' +he would sell hit for dem. Cotton was de main crop, in dem days, hit +would sell as high as twenty-five cents a pound. 'Course dey raises +corn, pears, an' other things on de plantation, too, but dey made de +cotton. Master Jesus! dey sumtimes made from fifty to one hundred an' +fifty bales.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members how all de women had looms, both black and white, weavin' +cloth for de clothes; an' den dey raised sheep to git de wool to make +dem gray uniforms. Lord, at sheep shearing time! hit was big times. Let +me tell you, Miss, dem uniforms was made out ob all wool, too, but I +cain't 'member whut dey used to dye 'em gray, but I 'members dey dyed +wid red oak bark, walnut bark, an' also a brush whut growed down on the +branch, also dey used de laurel leaves to dye yellow, as well as clay. +Dey so't de dye wid salt, an' hit really stayed in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Let me tell you, dey really fed us slaves good, up 'til such a length +o' time atter de war broke out, den food began to git scarce.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You see de Government taxed 'em, an' dey had to gib so much to feed de +soldiers. Even den us had a good time, I 'members how de li'l chillun +played ball, and marbles, 'specially marbles, hit was our big game. Even +atter night dey had a big light out in de backyard, an' us would play. +Sometimes us would hunt at night, and well I 'members one Sat'day night +I went huntin' wid mah uncle, an' didn't git in 'til daylight nex' +mawning, an' I was sleepy an' didn't git de shoes all cleaned before +church time. So ol' Marsar called me an' tuk me to de carriage house to +gib me a whippin'. Ol' Marser's boy was about de same age as me an' he +beg his paw not to whip me, an' I was beggin', too, but he carried me +on, an' when we got in de carriage house, Ol' Marser had to climb up on +de side wall to git de whip, an' he had on one ob dos long tailed coats, +an' hit left dem tails hangin' down, so I jes' grabbed hold ob dem, an' +made him fall, an' den I run to de Ol' Missy's room, 'ca'se I knowed +when I got in dere, dat Ol' Marser would neber hit me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Ol' Missy got up out ob de bed an' wouldn't let Ol' Marster whip me, +an' she got so mad dat she tol' him dat she warn't going to church wid +him dat morning, an' dat lack to kill de Ol' Marster, 'ca'se he shore +loved an' was proud ob Ol' Missy. She was a beautiful woman. Dat ended +de whippin', an' dat's de only time I 'members him tryin' to whip me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Missy didn't 'low dem to whip de women either, an' dey wouldn't +'low de women to roll logs either. But dey did work dem in de fiel's. +'Course dey kept de young women wid babies 'roun' de house, an' dey eat +de same grub as de white folks eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Talking 'bout log rollin', dem was great times, 'ca'se if some ob de +neighborin' plantations wanted to get up a house, dey would invite all +de slaves, men and women, to come wid dere masters. De women would help +wid de cookin' an' you may be shore dey had something to cook. Dey +would kill a cow, or three or four hogs, and den hab peas, cabbage, an' +everything lack grows on de farm. An' if dere was any meat or food lef' +dey would gib dat to de slaves to take home, an' jes' b'fore dark de +o'seer or Ol' Marster would gib de slaves all de whiskey dey wanted to +drink. Sometimes atter de days work, dey would hab a frolic, such as +dancin', an' ol' time games.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey would hab dese same kind ob gatherin's at cornshucking time, an' +cotton pickin' time, but dere warn't so much foolishness at cotton +pickin' time, 'ca'se dey didn't call one anudder den, 'ceptin' when de +cotton got so far ahead ob dem, an' was 'bout to set in fer a wet spell, +or rainy season.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You axed me 'bout de patty-rollers? You see de City policemen walkin' +his beat? Well, dat's de way de patty-rollin' was, only each county had +dere patty-rollers, an' dey had to serve three months at a time, den dey +was turned loose. And if dey cotch you out widout a pass, dey would gib +you thirty-nine lashes, 'ca'se dat was de law. De patty-rollers knowed +nearly all de slaves, an' it wurn't very often dey ever beat 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You know folks was jes' de same den as dey is now, both black, and +white. Some folks you could neighbor wid den, jes' lack you can now, an' +dere was good folks den, jes' de same as dey is now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Christmas time was de bes' ob all, 'ca'se us allus had a big dinner, +an' de Ol' Marster gib de women calico dresses an' shoes, an' de men +shoes an' hats, an' would gib us flour, an' sugar, molasses, an' would +buy beer, whiskey an' wine.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Ol' Marster tuk good keer ob us too, when any ob us got sick he send +for de doctor, den when dey order de medicine to be giben at night, +he'd see dat us got hit. But nowadays if you git sick, you hab to git de +Doctor, an' den pay him yo' se'f. Den de Ol' Marster had to find clothes +an' shoes for us, but now us has to scuffle an' git dem de bes' way us +can.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You know, Miss, I'se been here a long time, I eben 'members Jefferson +Davis. I'se seen him many a time. He had a home 'tween here (Mobile) an' +New Orleans, an' you knows he fust tuk his seat in Montgomery, an' den +moved to Richmond, Virginny.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members, too, how I useta to think dat de Baptist was de only +religion. You see John de Baptist come here baptizing, an' ever'body had +to offer up sacrifices, a goat or a sheep or sumpin', jes' lack de man +who was going to offer up his son for a sacrifice. But you knows, Jesus +come an' changed all dat. De folks in dem times didn't hab nobody to +worship; an' den one come, who said, 'Father, hand me a body, and I'll +die for dem,' Dat's Christ, an' he was baptized, an' God gib Jesus dis +whole world. So I believed, dat was de only religion.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members how us would hab big baptizings an' shout. Us allus went to +church in de white folks church, dey had church in de mornings, us had +ours in de afternoons. Us would hab to hab a pass, dough, 'ca'se de +church was eight miles away from de plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere was plenty old songs us useta to sing, but I can't 'member 'em. +Dere is dis one dat goes—</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Wonderful Peter,</div> +<div class="line">Wonderful Paul,</div> +<div class="line">Wonderful Silas,</div> +<div class="line">Who for to make a</div> +<div class="line">Mah heart rejoice.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">On Good Shepherds, feed a' mah sheep.</div> +<div class="line">Don't you hear de young lambs a bleatin'?</div> +<div class="line">Don't you hear de young lambs a bleatin'?</div> +<div class="line">Don't you hear de young lambs a bleatin'?</div> +<div class="line">Oh! Good shepherds feed a' mah sheep."</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jim-gillard"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id112">Jim Gillard</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jim Gillard</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SOLD AT THREE MONTHS FOR $350</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Jim Gillard was eleven years old when the War between the States began. +Thus, the memories of the conflict are fresh; with the retreat from +Rome, Ga., to Salem, Ala., as a refugee, transcending the others.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jim was born on a plantation at Pendleton, S.C., and was sold for $350 +when he was only three months old. He was one of eight children +belonging to James and Hannah Gillard.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter bein' sold, I fust lived 'bout three miles from Rome, Ga.," Jim +recalled. "Den, when de Yankees come into Georgy us refugeed fust to +Atlanta, den to Columbus an' later to Salem. Us was at Salem when de war +ended."</p> +<p class="pnext">Jim remembers catching partridges as a boy, taking them to the train and +selling them to Charlie Crowder for ten cents each.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Game was plentiful in dem days," he said, "an' I never had any trouble +catchin' dem birds.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, our houses wasn't nothin' to brag about. Dey was built of hewn +logs an' had slab floors, havin' two rooms an' a shed cook room. Us beds +was lak tables, wid four legs nailed on to de sides an' den corded over +de top wid ropes dat was tightened wid a big key. Us had shuck +mattresses to sleep on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us cooked on a great big fireplace. I 'members dat dere was plenty of +meat in de winter, 'ca'se Ol' Marster used to kill as many as thirty +hogs at a time. Us had meat an' bread an' home-made light bread an' de +white folks was mighty kind. I 'members us was carried to Sunday School +every Sunday at 3 o'clock in de evenin'. Ol' Mistus'd teach us de +lesson. De white chilluns had dere Sunday School at 9 o'clock in de +mornin.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I allus went to Sunday School, but on de week days us little niggers +would slip off an' go huntin' when we could."</p> +<p class="pnext">Jim recalls that "de little niggers" ate from tin plates on the +plantation; but declared he didn't mind that because the food was always +good.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes'm, us had purty good clothes. Dey was dyed brown wid walnut leaves +an' hazelnut bush, an' on Sunday us had striped gingham pants an' shoes. +My father was de shoemaker an' had a gov'mint tan yard whar he would +make ol' hard brogans fer $8 a pair.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My marster an' Mistus was Steven an' 'Lizbeth Wilson. Dey fust lived in +a big log house, but den moved into a planked house. Dey had nine +chillun; Ann, Steven, William, Liza, Humie, Eddie, Laura, Mary an' +Lizzie.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members lots 'bout Mistus 'Lizabeth, 'ca'se she useter read de Bible +to us niggers. She would talk to us 'bout de Good Book an' have prayer +meetin' wid us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My dad useter look atter de fiel' hands. No'm, he war'nt no overseer, +but Ol' Marster allus had confidence in him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat when dey would be a funeral, us'd sing; marchin' befo' +de body 'fore us'd get to de grave an' singin', 'Hark come de tune a +doleful sound, my years a tender cry; a livin' man come view de ground +whar you may shortly lie.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us frolics on Sattidy night was fine an' us'd dance 'twel mos' day. +Marster's brother would fiddle for us, an' at Christmas time us would +have six days to frolic. Us also had a big time at de cornshuckin's, an' +us'd whoop an' holler an' sing mos' all night. De big niggers had plenty +of liquor de boss give 'um. High tables was filled up wid corn an' de +niggers would shuck 'twel it was all done.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My aunt married up at de big house an' dey give her a big dance. Dey +had de fiddle and had a great big time. Dey jes' jumped over de broom +to marry, so atter slavery dey had to git married agin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I acted as houseboy in slavery times. An' all de little niggers did +have lots of fun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de slaves got ailin', I 'members dat Marster had Dr. Word an' Dr. +Dunwoody to come to see us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members, too, how de Yankees come to Spring Villa, 'bout eight miles +from Opelika, an' said to some mens, 'Halt'. De mens wouldn't stop so de +Yankees throwed dey guns on dem. Two white ladies threw a white flag an' +dey wouldn't shoot, but dey carried Mr. John Edwards to Spring Villa an' +made a cross on his wrist; den turned him loose 'ca'se his wife was rale +sick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come, us niggers buried a cigar box wid de jewelry in +it under a certain pine tree 'twel dey went on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de big war, I married Jane Davis fust time; den Carrie Cooper. Us +had two chillun an' one gran' chile, Emanuel Trotter, ten year' old.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassu'm, Mr. Abraham Lincoln died a warrior for dis country. I b'longs +to de church, 'ca'se if a man dies outter de Ark he is not saved, an' I +wants to be saved."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mary-ella-grandberry"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id113">Mary Ella Grandberry</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mary Ella Grandberry</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Levi D. Shelby, Jr., Tuscumbia, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">TODAY'S FOLKS DON'T KNOW NOTHIN'</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Life as a child is not clear in the ninety-year old memory of Mary Ella +Grandberry, who lives in Sheffield, but she remembers that she did not +have time to play as do children of today.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know jes' how old I is," Mary Ella said, "but I knows dat I'm +some'ers nigh ninety yars ol'. I was borned in Barton, Alabama. My +father an' mother come from Richmond, Virginny. My mammy was name +Margaret Keller an' my pappy was Adam Keller. My five sisters was +Martha, Sarah, Harriet, Emma an' Rosanna, an' my three brothers was +Peter, Adam, Jr., an' William.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us all live in a li'l two-room log cabin jes' off the Big House. Life +wan't ver' much for us, 'caze we had to work an' slave all de time. +Massa Jim's house was a little ol' frame buildin' lack a ord'nary house +is now. He was a single man an' didn't hab so terr'ble much, it seem. He +had a whole lot, too, but jes' to look at him you'd thank he was a po' +white man. Dere was a lot o' cabins for de slaves, but dey wasn't fitten +for nobody to lib in. We jes' had to put up wid 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don' 'member much about when I was a chil'. I disremembers ever +playin' lack chilluns do today. Ever since I kin 'member I had a water +bucket on my arm totin' water to de han's. Iffen I wan't doin' dat, I +was choppin' cotton. Chilluns nowadays sees a good time to w'at we did +den. Ever' mornin' jes' 'bout hip of day de oberseer was 'roun' to see +dat we was ready to git to de fiel's. Plenty times us had to go widouten +breakfas', 'caze we didn' git up in time to git it 'fo' de man done come +to git us on de way to de fiel'. Us wukked 'twell dinner time jes' de +same before we got anythang to eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De food we et was fix jes' lack hit is now. My mammy fixed our grub at +home. De on'y diffe'nce 'tween den an' now was us didn' git nothin' but +common things den. Us didn' know what hit was to git biscuits for +breakfas' ever' mornin'. It was cornbread 'twell on Sundays den us'd git +fo' biscuits apiece. Us got fatback mos' ever' mornin'. Sometimes us +mought git a chicken for dinner on a Sunday or some day lack Chris'mas. +It was mighty seldom us gits anythin' lack dat, dough. We lacked possums +an' rabbits but dey didn' come twell Winter time when some of de men +folks'd run 'crost one in de fiel'. Dey never had no chanst to git out +an' hunt none.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere was no sech thang as havin' diffe'nt clo's for winter an' Summer. +Us wore de same thang in summertime as in de wintertime. De same was +true 'bout shoes. Us wore brogans from one yeah to de yuther.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Ol' Massa was a putty good man but nothin' exter. One thang 'bout +him, he wouldn' 'low none of de oberseers to whup none of us, lessen he +was dar to see hit done. Good thang he was lack dat, too, 'caze he sabed +de blacks a many a lick what dey'd got iffen he hadn' been dar. Massa +Jim was a bach'lor, an' he ain't never had much truck wid women folks. +Iffen he had any chilluns, I never knowed nothin' 'bout 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De oberseers was terrible hard on us. Dey'd ride up an' down +de fiel' an' haste you so twell you near 'bout fell out. Sometimes +an' most inginer'ly ever' time you 'hin' de crowd you got a good +lickin' wid de bull whup dat de driver had in de saddle wid him. +I hearn mammy say dat one day dey whupped po' Leah twell she fall +out like she was daid. Den dey rubbed salt an' pepper on de blisters +to make 'em burn real good. She was so so' 'twell she couldn' lay +on her back nights, an' she jes' couldn' stan' for no clo's to tech +back whatsomever.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa Jim had 'bout one of de bigges' plantations in dat section. I +guess he had nigh onto a hun'erd blacks on de place. I never knowed +'zackly how many thar was nor how big de place was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De folks now'days is allus complainin' 'bout how dey is havin' sech +hard times, but dey jes' don' know nothin'. Dey should hab come up when +I did an' dey'd see now dey is libin' jes' lack kings an' queens. Dey +don' have to git up 'fo' day when hit's so dark you kin jes' see your +han's 'fo' your eyes. Dey don' know what it's lack to have to keep up +wid de leader. You know dey was allus somebody what could wuk faster dan +de res' of de folks an' dis fellow was allus de leader, an' ever'body +else was s'pose to keep up wid him or her whatsomever hit was. Iffen you +didn' keep up wid de leader you got a good thrashin' when you gits home +at night. Hit was allus good dark when de han's got in from de fiel'. +Co'se iffen dar was a lady what had a baby at home, she could leave jes' +a little 'fo' de sun sot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Younguns now'days don' know what it is to be punish'; dey thank iffen +dey gits a li'l whuppin' from dey mammy now dat dey is punish' terrible. +Dey should of had to follow de leader for one day an' see how dey'd be +punish' iffen dey gits too far behin'. De bigges' thang dat us was +punish' for was not keepin' up. Dey'd whup us iffen we was caught +talkin' 'bout de free states, too. Iffen you wan't whupped, you was put +in de 'nigger box' an' fed cornbread what was made widouten salt an' wid +plain water. De box was jes' big 'nough for you to stan' up in, but hit +had air holes in hit to keep you from suffocatin'. Dere was plenty +turnin' 'roun' room in hit to 'low you to change your position ever' +oncet in a while. Iffen you had done a bigger 'nough thang you was kep' +in de 'nigger box' for months at de time, an' when you got out you was +nothin' but skin an' bones an' scurcely able to walk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Half de time a slave didn' know dat he was sol' 'twell de massa'd call +him to de Big House an' tell him he had a new massa from den on. Ever' +time dat one was sol' de res' of 'em'd say, 'I hopes nex' time'll be +me.' Dey thought you'd git a chanst to run away to de free states. I +hearn my mammy say dat when she come from Virginny dat she come on a +boat built outten logs. She say she never was so sick in all her life. I +seed a 'hole wagon load of slaves come through our farm one day what was +on dere way to Arkansas. Dey was de mos' I ever seed travel at de same +time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De white folks didn't 'low us to even look at a book. Dey would scol' +an' sometimes whup us iffen dey caught us wid our head in a book. Dat is +one thang I sho'ly did want to do an' dat was to learn to read an' +write. Massa Jim promised to teach us to read an' write, but he neber +had de time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere wan't but one chu'ch on de place what I lived on, an' de colored +and de white both went to hit. You know we was neber 'lowed to go to +chu'ch widoutten some of de white folks wid us. We wan't even 'lowed to +talk wid nobody from anudder farm. Iffen you did, you got one of de wus' +whuppin's of your life. Atter freedom Massa Jim tol' us dat dey was +'fraid we'd git together an' try to run away to de No'th, an' dat was +w'y dey didn' wan' us gittin' together talkin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"A few years 'fo' de war my pappy learnt to read de Bible. (Mary Ella +apparently forgot her previous comment on penalties for learning to +read). Whenever we would go to chu'ch he would read to us an' we'd sing. +'Bout de mos' two pop'lar songs dey sung was 'Steal Away' an' 'I Wonder +Whar Good Ol' Dan'el Was.' 'Steal Away' is sech a pop'lar song what +ever'body knows hit. De yuther one is done mought' nigh played out, so +I'll sing hit for you. It goes lack dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">I wonder whar was good ol' Dan'el,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I wonder whar was good ol' Dan'el,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">I wonder whar was thankin' (thinking) Peter,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I wonder whar was thankin' Peter.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">(Chorus)</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">I'm goin' away, goin' away.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I'm goin' away, goin' away.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">I wonder whar was weepin' Mary,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I wonder whar was weepin' Mary,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">I'm goin' away, I'm goin' away,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I'm goin' away to live forever,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">I'll never turn back no mo'.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"De slaves would git tired of de way dey was treated an' try to run away +to de No'th. I had a cousin to run away one time. Him an' anudder fellow +had got 'way up in Virginny 'fo' Massa Jim foun' out whar dey was. Soon +as Massa Jim foun' de whar'bouts of George he went atter him. When Massa +Jim gits to George an' 'em, George pertended lack he didn' know Massa +Jim. Massa Jim as' him, "George don't you know me?' George he say, 'I +neber seed you 'fo' in my life.' Den dey as' George an' 'em whar did dey +come from. George an' dis yuther fellow look up in de sky an' say, 'I +come from above, whar all is love.' Iffen dey had owned dey knowed Massa +Jim he could have brung 'em back home. My pappy tried to git away de +same time as George an' dem did, but he couldn' see how to take all us +chillun wid him, so he had to stay wid us. De blacks an' de whites would +have de terr'bles' battles sometimes. Dat would be when de blacks would +slip off to de No'th an' was caught an' brung back. De paterollers'd +ketch de colored folks an' lock 'em up twell de owner came atter 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Iffen a slave was cotched out after nine o'clock he was whupped. Dey +didn' 'low nobody out atter it was dark 'lessen he had a pass from de +Massa. One night, 'fo' George an' dis fellow (I disremembers his name, +but I thinks it was Ezra) runned away, George tried to git over to de +bunk whar he lived an' one of de oberseers seen him an' dey put him in +de 'nigger box' for three weeks. Jes' as soon as he got out again, +George an' dis Ezra slipped off. Dey had a sign dat dey would give each +yuther eve'y night atter sundown. George would hang de lantern in de +window, an' den he would take it outen de window an' hang it raght back +in dar ag'in. I couldn't never make no sense outen it. I axed him one +day whut he was adoin' dat for. He say dat 'fo' long I'd know 'zackly +what is all about. Dis was de sign of how long dey have to wait 'fo' dey +try to git away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de day's work was over, de slaves didn't have nothin' to do but +go to bed. In fac', dey didn't feel lack doin' nothin' else. On Satiday +dey sot up an' washed so's dey could have some clean clothes to wear de +comin' week. We wukked all day, ever' day 'cep'n some Sat'days, we had a +half day off den. Us didn' git many an' on'y when us as' for 'em. On +Sundays us jes' laid 'roun' 'mos' all day. Us didn't git no pleasure +outten goin' to church, 'caze we warn't 'lowed to say nothin'. Sometimes +even on Chris'mas us didn't git no res'. I 'members on one Chris'mas us +had to build a lime kiln. When us git a holiday us rested. Iffen dere +was a weddin' or a funeral on our plantation us went. Odderways we don't +go nowhar.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De war come when I was a big gal. I 'member dat my uncle an' cousin +jined in wid de Yankees to hope fight for de freedom. De Yankees come to +our place an' runned Massa Jim away an' tuk de house for a horsepittil. +Dey tuk all of Massa Jim's clothes an' gived dem to some of dere +frien's. Dey burned up all de cotton, hay, peas an' ever'thing dat was +in de barns. Dey made de white folks cook for de colored an' den serve +'em while dey et. De Yankees made 'em do for us lak we done for dem. Dey +showed de white folks what it was to work for somebody else. Dey stayed +on our place for de longes'. When dey did leave, dere warn't a mouthful +to eat in de house. When de war was over, Massa Jim told us dat we had +to find som'ers else to live. Co'se some of my folks had already gone +when he come home. Us lef' Massa Jim's an' moved to anudder farm. We got +pay for de wuk what we did on dis yuther place. Raght atter de war de Ku +Klux got atter de colored folks. Dey would come to our houses an' scare +us mos' to death. Dey would take some of de niggers out an' whup 'em an' +dose dat dey didn't whup dey tied up by dere fingers an' toes. Dese Ku +Klux would come to our windows at night an' say: 'Your time ain't long +acomin'.' De Ku Klux got so bad dat dey would even git us in de daytime. +Dey tuk some of de niggers an' throwed 'em in de river to drown. Dey +kep' dis up 'twell some folks from de North come down an' put a stop to +it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I ma'ied Nelson Granberry. De weddin' was private. I don't have no +chilluns, but my husban' got fo'. I haven't heered from any of 'em in a +long time now. I guess dey all daid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Abe Lincoln was de bes' president dat dis country eber had. Iffen it +hadn't been for him we'd still be slaves raght now. I don't think so +much of Jeff Davis 'caze he tried to keep us slaves. Booker T. +Washington was one of de greates' niggers dat ever lived, he always +tried to raise de standard of de race.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I joined the church 'caze de Bible says dat all people should join de +church an' be Christians. Jesus Christ set up de church an' said dat +ever'body what wanted to be saved to come unto him. Sin is de cause of +de world bein' in de fix dat it's in today. De only way to fight sin is +to git together. Iffen we can do away wid sin raght now, de world would +be a paradise. In de church we learn de will of God an' what he would +have us do.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere was no po' white trash in our 'munity; dey was kep' back in de +mountains."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="esther-green"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id114">Esther Green</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Esther Green</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">US CHILLUN WORE SHOES LIKE GROWNUPS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Esther Green, of 554 Texas Street, Mobile, Alabama, was all too +ready to talk about her slavery days in spite of her assertion that she +didn't remember much about the war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was jus' a chile," she says. "You can figure for yourself. Somebody +tole me I was born in 1855, so I couldn't of been very old. I was born +in State Line, Mississippi, and was owned by Edward Davis. He owned my +mother, Rachel Davis and her mother, Melinda Davis. I never did know who +my pappy was 'cause I never did see him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"To de bes' of my recollections, my whitefolks was allus good to us +niggers. He neber allowed no overseers and he never whipped none of dem, +'ceptin' maybe a switching once in a while for us littl'luns when we +didn't behave. I never saw a growed up nigger whipped in all my life. +Ole Massa jus' didn't b'lieve in dat. Massa was shorely a good man. Lots +of times he would get us little niggers up on de porch at de big house +and have us dance for him. We sho used to have a big time out on dem big +white porches.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never had no work to do myself, 'cause I always stayed in de big +house wid Miss Mary Davis, ole Massa's wife. I was in de house one day +and ole Massa asked me if I wanted to eat at de table wid dem, so I +pulled up a chair and spite of de fact dere was all kinds of good stuff +to eat in front of me, I called for lye hominy. I sho did love dat stuff +better'n anything else I ever et. Ole Massa and de res' of dem jus' +laugh fit to kill. I reckon dey thought I was crazy sho' nuff', but I et +hominy jes' de same.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As to de number of slaves ole Massa had, I never knew. Us had log +cabins to stay in. De cracks was chinked up wid yellow mud to keep de +cold out and de chim'ney was made of straw and de same kind of mud, but +dem cabins was warmer dan de house is nowadays. We didn't have no +furniture 'ceptin' a home-made bed which was nailed to de wall on one +side and two legs out in de middle of de floor. De mattresses was made +of straw and hay. All de cookin' was done on de big open fireplaces what +had big potracks to hang de pots on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa rationed out de food every week and we usually got a peck of +meal. We had plenty of 'taters and peas and other vegetables dat we +growed on de place. At Chris'mas time, we was give meat and molasses to +make cakes. Us always had plenty of plain food. And too, de men would go +huntin' at night and come back wid lots of big fat 'possums and rabbits +by de dozen, and mos' of de time, dey would even catch a coon. And old +Ben, a nigger who had turkey traps, was always bringin' in lots of dem +big fat birds.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De men and women worked in de field all day, but I never picked a bit +of cotton all my life. At night de women would spin and weave cloth, but +I never did learn to do dat. Den dey would dye de cloth different +colors, mostly red and blue though, and make dem into clothes. Us +chilluns had a one-piece dress or slip. Our shoes was all homemade too. +Massa had one man who tanned de leather. He would take it an put it into +a long trough for a long time and den whatever was done dat was supposed +to be done to it, he would take it out and cut it and make shoes. Us +chilluns' had shoes same as de grown folks.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sundays, we would got to de white folks' church. Dere was a shed +built onto de church and we would sit on benches out under de shed and +listen to de preacher. De white folks would have lots of big baptizings, +but I never did see no niggers baptized den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Massa had a big fambly, three boys and six girls. My own ma had +eight chilluns. Us was always healthy and never had to have much +medicine. 'Bout de only thing I remembers ever takin' was tea made from +de root of de china berry tree. It made good tea for worms, but was to +be used only at certain times of de moon. My man also used Jerusalem Oak +seed for worms. I never fools wid tryin' to doctor nobody's chilluns +now-a-days, things is all so different.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Grandma, Melinda, and ole Ben and his wife was three ole people +Massa freed long time before de war. When all de niggers was freed, +Massa called em up to de house and tole dem dat dey was loose to go +wherever suited dem, but mos' of dem stayed on de place two or three +weeks, and den one mornin' I woke up and all of dem had left durin' de +night. I was de only nigger left on de place and I jus' cried and cried, +mostly because I was jus' lonesome for some of my own kind to laugh and +talk wid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't remember exactly what I did after de Surrender, but it was +about four years afterwards dat I come to Mobile and I been here every +since.</p> +<p class="pnext">I's a member of de Mobile Delaware Baptist Church, but I can't attend +very regular 'count of bein' all crippled up wid de rheumatisms. I +reckon dat ailing is natural though, cause I been here a long time and +I's got forty grandchilluns and more dan dat many +great-grandchilluns."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jake-green"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id115">Jake Green</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jake Green</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A CONJU' WHAT DIDN' WUK</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Yessum, dem niggers sho' was scared when ole Buck showed up in de +fiel'," Jake Green, former slave, laughed with a vigor that denied his +eighty-five years as he described "a conju' what didn' wuk." Jake has a +vivid memory of those days before the Civil War, though he was only a +small boy when it started.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me an' my mother an' father b'longed to old man Lam Whitehead jes' a +few miles from Coatopa, 'bout ten miles east of Livingston, Alabama," he +began. "My mother was Molly Whitehead, my father was Dan Whitehead. I +don't know nothin' 'bout my gran'mammy an' gran'pappy, but I had a heap +of unkies.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Whitehead owned Dirtin Ferry down to Belmont, an' dey had a darkey +dere named Dick what claim sick all de time. So de Massa man said, +'Dick, dam it, go to de house. I can't get no work outten you.' So Dick +went on. He was a fiddler so dey jes' tuck his vittuls to him for seven +years. Den one day, Old Massa say to de overseer man, 'Let's slip up +dere an' see what Dick doin'. So dey did, an' dere sot Dick, fat as he +could be a-playin' de fiddle an' a-singin',</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">'Fool my Massa seben years.</div> +<div class="line">Gwiner fool him seben mo'.</div> +<div class="line">Hey diddle, de diddle, de diddle, de do'.'</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"'Bout dat time Ole Massa poked his head in de do' said 'Dam iffen you +will. Come outten dere, you black rascal, an' go to work, 'An' I ain't +never hyard of Dick complainin' no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But dey wan't so mean. Sometimes us got whupped but Massa had fo' men +he didn't 'low nobody to hit, white er black. Dey was Unker Arch, he was +de main carriage driver; my father, he was de house servant; Unker +Julius, de fo'man of de plow han's an' Unker Ed'erds, de fo'man of de +hoe han's. Whenever anybody wanted to hire anybody to work for 'em, de +Massa send dem fo' out an' hire 'em by de day to chop cotton or pick. +An' dem fo' niggers could chop much cotton in a day as de mule could +plow. Whenever dey'd stop de plow at twelve o'clock, dem niggers was +right dere to lay de hoe handles on de plow, an' dat's choppin'. All +four could pick a bale of cotton a day. Whenever anybody say, 'Mr. +Whitehead, I want a bale of cotton picked today,' he'd send dem fo' men +an' dey could pick five hundred pounds apiece an' leave de sun still +runnin'. Dey was pickers in dem days!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cose dey had to begin, an' all us got up 'fo' day. Twan't nothin' +strange to be standin' in de fiel' by your plow waitin' for de sun to +come up. Ev'body was early risers in dem days. Dey was pretty good to +us, but ole Mr. Buck Brasefiel', what had a plantation 'jinin' us'n, was +so mean to his'n dat twan't nothin' for 'em to run away. One nigger, +Rich Parker, runned off one time an' whilst he gone he seed a hoodoo +man, so when he got back Mr. Brasefiel' tuck sick an' stayed sick two or +three weeks. Some of de darkies tole him, 'Rich been to de hoodoo +doctor.' So Mr. Brasefiel' got up outten dat bed an' come a-yellin' in +de fiel', 'You thought you had ole Buck, but by God he rose agin'. Dem +niggers was so skeered, dey squatted in de fiel' jes' lack partridges, +an' some of 'em whispered, 'I wish to God he had a-died.'</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-102"> +<span id="id29"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Jake Green" src="images/image174green.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Jake Green, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"'Twan't long atter dat come S'render, but dat nigger done lef' dere, +an' didn't nobody know whar Parker was at. Some of de niggers done +bought an' paid for dey mule an' me an' Pappy was rentin' an' wukkin' on +sneers, when here come Parker, jes' hyared 'bout S'render. He say 'Why +didn't somebody come tell me 'twas S'render?' Den he start a-singin'</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Slav'y chain, slav'y chain,</div> +<div class="line">Thank God a'mighty I'm free at las',</div> +<div class="line">Free at las', free at las',</div> +<div class="line">Thank God a'mighty I'm free at las'.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"But dat wan't none of Old Massa's niggers. He had one, do' call him +John, an' hit come a traveler an' stayed all night. Ole Massa p'inted +out John, an' said, 'He ain't never tole me a lie in his life.' De +traveler bet Massa a hund'ed dollars 'ginst fo' bits he'd ketch John in +a lie 'fo' he lef'. Next mawnin' at de table de mice was pretty bad, so +de traveler caught one by de tail an' put him inside a kiver-lid dish +what was settin' dere on de table, an' he tole Ole Massa tell John he +could eat sumpin' out of ev'y dish atter dey got th'oo but dat kiver-lid +one, an' not to take kiver offen hit. An' John said, 'Nossuh, I won't.' +But John jes' nachully had to see what was in dat dish, so he raise de +lid, an' out hopped de mouse. Den hyar come Old Massa an' axed John +iffen he done what he tole him not to do, an' John 'nied hit. Den de +traveler look in de dish an' de mouse wan't dere, an' he said, 'See +dere, John been lyin' to you all de time, you jes' ain't knowed hit,' +an' I reckon he right 'caze us had to lie."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charity-grigsby"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id116">Charity Grigsby</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Charity Grigsby</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">R.P. Tartt, [HW: Livingston?]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I KNOWS I'S EIGHTY FIVE BUT 'SPECTS I'S MORE DEN DAT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Charity Grigsby lives in a tumbledown shanty about nine miles from +Livingston on the old Epes road. She was sewing on a quilt when I +arrived; humming an old plantation song that ran:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Angels in de water, walkin' by de light;</div> +<div class="line">Po' sinners stand in darkness an' cannot see de light!</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">A broad smile flowed across her black face as I entered the cabin. She +placed her needle aside, exclaimed: "Law me, honey, I's always proud +when de white folks drap aroun'; an' dat's directly so."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Charity," I said, "I want you to tell me about slavery times."</p> +<p class="pnext">She lowered her head in thought a moment, said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, what would I tell?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Just all you remember, Charity."</p> +<p class="pnext">And this is what she told:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I was borned Charity Grigsby, but I married Nelson Grigory; +ain't much 'stinguish in de names; but 'twas a little. My pappy was +Dan'l Grigsby an' my mammy was Mary Moore. See, us belonged to Ol' +Mister Jim Moore right up yonder 'bove Sumterville near Ramsey Station.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-103"> +<span id="id30"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Charity Grigsby" src="images/image177grigsby.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Charity Grigsby, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"You goes up de Gainesville an' Livingston Road an' turns off at de +cross road 'bout nine miles from Livingston. Den you goes due west. It +ain't far from dere; bout six miles, I reckons. 'Twan't no big +plantation; 'bout a dozen of us dere; an' Marse Jim didn't have no +overseer lak de rest. He had dem boys of his'n what seed to us. Dey was +John an' William an' Jim. Dey was all tol'able good to us; but dey would +whoop us if we wasn't 'bedient; jes' like a mother raisin' a chile.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I can't say how old I is; it's done got away from me; but I was a +stroppin' gal durin' de war. I knows I's eighty-five an' I 'spects I's +more dan dat. I's de mammy of 'leven chilluns; I knows dat; but ain't +but five of dem a-livin'. As you knows, I lives wid two of dem; Mattie +an' Evie. Dey treats me good. Hattie an' Ellen an' my boy lives in +Bessemer. Dat is all my individual chilluns, but I's got a few others. I +can't recollect much to tell; been a good while since de war; but when +you calls it to my 'memberance I can think it up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, dem nigger dogs; dey sho' did run. Sometimes dey kotched a +nigger, but dey didn't never run me. I was in de house weavin' an' +spinnin' lak mistus showed me; an' I didn't never get in no trouble wid +nobody.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' den again, Marse Jim was purty tol'able good to us, but Mr. Ervin +Lavendar was sho' mean to his niggers, an' his plantation warn't far +from our'n. He had a pack of dogs what run de niggers; an' dem was +skeery times, I tell you. Us didn't l'arn no schoolin' nor go nowhere +nor have no corn shuckin' nor nothin'; jes' 'quired to stay in de +cabins. I hyared 'bout Bre'r Rabbit an' hoodoo; but I never takes up no +time wid dat foolishness; never seed no sense in it. Us got on all right +'thout dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of de other niggers 'sides me was all de time in trouble, dough. +Mr. Fulton, who lived clost to Mr. Lavendar, had a nigger-driver an' +overseer name Sanders, an' I bet he was de meanest one of dem all. You +know, honey, dey planted wheat fields in de fall in dem days an' cut it +in de spring. It would come off in time 'nuff to make corn.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere was a flock of birds lak blackbirds; only dey was wheat birds; +an' dey went in droves an' fly way up yonder. Us had planks to slap +together to keep de birds out er de wheat, because dey et it up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well'm, one day Mr. Sanders tol' one of de women what was one of de +sucklers on de place, dat if she wouldn't do what he axed her to dey was +a black coffin over her haid. She 'fused him; so when he was loadin' his +gun dere in de wheat fiel', he was holdin' de gun barrel propped under +his chin, jes' so, an de other end settin' on de ground. Well sir, it +went off an' he killed hisse'f stid of dat sucklin' woman; an' dat was a +awful time, 'ca'se de niggers got skeered an' run, an' dey sot Mr. +Lavendar's pack of nigger dogs on 'em. De dogs kotched some an' chewed +'em nigh 'bout to death. It warn' none of us, but it were close.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us laid low, didn't go out nowhere. Us wasn't 'lowed to; couldn't go to +prayer meetin' or nothin'.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-104"> +<span id="charity-grigsby-s-house"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Charity Grigsby's House" src="images/image177grigsbyhouse.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Charity Grigsby's House, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"You ax what dat song I singin' when you come? Dat was all of it, an' +dat's 'nuff fer me, 'ca'se it's true. What dey gwine to be no mo' fer? +Jes':</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Angels in de water, walkin' by de light;</div> +<div class="line">Po' sinners stan' in darkness an' cannot se de light.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I don' want no mo' myse'f; jes' dat; dat's all. How come you wants some +mo'? Don't dat much satisfy you? But honey, de sun gettin' low an' my +chilluns will soon be comin' from de swamps. Ain't no bread cooked fer +'em. I'll tell you some mo' when I gets my mind on it, 'ca'se it's been +a good while since de war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas'm, us has 'nuff to eat; but if us could get anymore, us would lak +it. You know how 'tis; can make out wid mighty little. Us eats greens; +lookin' forward to roas' in years comin' in."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charles-hayes"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id117">Charles Hayes</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Charles Hayes</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SHO' I BELIEVES IN SPIRITS, SAYS CHARLES</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Mistis," said Charles Hayes from his porch in Maysville, near Mobile, +Alabama, "I was a little bitty nigger when de war broke out, an' I +belonged to Massa Ben Duncan who lived at Day's Landin' on de Alabamy +Ribber.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Ben's house was de regulation plantation wid slave quarters. Most +of de things us used was made raght dere on de plantation, sich as: +beds, buckets, tools, soap, brogans, breeches, an' chairs. Our +mattresses was either made outen cornshucks or cotton bolls. Us cooked +on an open fireplace, an' eve'y Sadday night us would go to de big house +for supplies. Marse Ben was good to his slaves an' he 'lowed dem to have +a little plot of groun' nex' to de cabins whar dey could raise dere own +little crop.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy was a fiel' han' an' my pappy was a mechanic an' he use to be +de handy man aroun' de big house, makin' eve'thing f'um churns an' +buckets to wagon wheels. My pappy also useta play de fiddle for de white +folks dances in de big house, an' he played it for de colored frolics +too. He sho could make dat thing sing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us useta have all sorts of cures for de sick people, f'rinstance, us +used de Jerusalem weed cooked wid molasses into a candy for to give to +de chilluns to git rid of worms. Den us'd bile de root an' make a kinda +tea for de stomach worms. You know de kinds dat little puppies an' +little chilluns has dat eats all de food dat goes in to de stomach, an' +makes de chile or dog eat plenty but don't git no benefits f'um all +dey're eatin'. Horehound, dat growed wild in Clarke County, was used for +colds. Mullen tea was used for colds an' swollen j'ints. Den dere was de +life everlastin' tea dat was also good for colds and horse mint tea dat +was good for de chills an' fevers. Co'se, Mistis, us niggers had a +regular fambly doctah dat 'tended to us when we was sho 'nough down +raght sick, but dese remedies I's tellin' you 'bout us used when warn't +nothin' much ailin' us. It was always to de owner's interest, Mistis, to +have de niggers in a good, healthy condition.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I believe in spirits, you says? Sho I does. When Christ walked on +de water, de Apostles was skeered he was a spirit, but Jesus told dem +dat he warn't no spirit, dat he was as 'live as dey was. He tol' 'em dat +spirits couldn't be teched, dat dey jus' melted when you tried to. So, +Mistis, Jesus musta meant dat dere was sich a thing as spirits.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de war my pappy an' mammy stayed on de Duncan plantation en' +worked on share crops. Dere was a school on de groun's for us slave +chilluns, an' my gran'mammy, Salina Duncan, taught de bible, 'ca'se she +was f'um Virginny an' had been learnt to read an' write by her Mistis up +dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My fus' wife was named Alice Bush, an' us had ten chilluns; my second +one was named Caroline Turner an' us didn't have but eight. Both my ole +womens is daid now, white folks, an' I stays here wid one of my +daughters. You see, my eyesight is almos' gone due to one day when I was +a workin' in de forge, a hot piece of iron flew up an' landed in my eye. +'Twarn't long befo' it started to hurtin' in my udder eye. Now both is +'bout to give out."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lizzie-hill"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id118">Lizzie Hill</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lizzie Hill</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THE STORY OF AUNT LIZZIE HILL</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Lizzie Hill, 94 years of age, moved from the Spurlock plantation, +four miles out, to the city of Eufaula about 20 years ago. She was of +such vigorous constitution, that until recently, she carried on her +regular occupation of laundress or "wash-'oman," as she calls herself. +Too feeble to work regularly, she now is cared for by a niece with whom +she lives.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sitting before the fire in a rocking-chair, smoking a clay pipe—her +neat clothing, snow-white hair and wrinkled, kindly face make a pleasing +picture of contentment. Her mind is, apparently, unimpaired, and she +readily responds to her recollections of slavery:</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-105"> +<span id="id31"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Lizzie Hill" src="images/image182hill.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Lizzie Hill, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Sho, Missey, I 'members 'bout it! I was most grown when freedom come. +My Marster (Richard Dozier) and my Mistis was good to all dey niggers +and dey raised me right. I had two little mistises 'bout as old as me, +and I played wid dem all de time and slep' on a pallet in dey room ev'y +night. Dey slep' on de big bed. My clothes was jes' as good and clean as +deyrn, an I et what dey et."</p> +<p class="pnext">The little girls, she explained, were about six and eight years old when +this association began, and it continued until close of the war, when +all were nearly grown.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter freedom come," continued Aunt Lizzie, "Mammy moved to Cuthbert +and tuk me erway fum Old Mistis; but I runned away and went back to +Mistis, and walked all de fourteen miles down de big road at night—I +runned most ob de way. Three times I done dat, but Mammy come and tuk me +back to work in de field ev'y time. I wanted to stay wid Old Mistis. Dey +called her 'Miss Everline' and ev'ybody liked her. Bofe my little +mistises got mai'ed and den Old Marster and Old Mistis moved off to +Texas, and I ain't eber seed none ob 'em no more. I's had a hard time +workin' in de field since de war. Fo' freedom come, I nebber worked +cep'n in de house—I was a 'house-girl' and didn't do no field +work."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gabe-hines"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id119">Gabe Hines</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Gabe Hines</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">GABE WAS KIDNAPPED BY CARPETBAGGERS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Old Gabe had been long in this world—close to one hundred years. He had +experienced much but one incident had out-lasted all the others—even +the stroke that made him older and more feeble. That experience had +caused Gabe and his "ole woman" to stray far from the fold and to walk +all the way back to its shelter.</p> +<p class="pnext">That was back in Reconstruction days, when he was not "bandy in his +knees" and long before Anna left him alone in his cabin with just +memories of earlier and happier days.</p> +<p class="pnext">Gabe was "birthed in Cusseta, Georgia," the son of two faithful old +slaves, Hetty and Gabe Hines, and they "all 'longed to Marsa William +Shipp an' Miss Ma'y. He told his story thus:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Endurin' of de Wah, I was big enough to be water toter on de +plantation. No, Li'l Missy, I doan' 'zactly know how old I is 'ceptin' +by de squeakin' an' achin' of my bones. I 'members lots 'bout doze days. +Dem was happy times, Li'l Missy. Arter we all was freed, I went to +Silver Run to live and dar I mahied Anna. She lef' me nine yeahs ago an' +that broke the happiness. I miss her ev'whar, jes' keep a-missin' her +though nine yeahs hev gone since dey tuk her from de cabin an' lef' her +up thar on de hill. Dere's nights when de mis'ry in dese ol' bones jist +gits past standin' an' on sich nights she come ter me and holp me wid de +linnymint jes' as she useter do. But she caint stay long when she come.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was a-tellin' 'bout Silver Run. Arter we was mahied and was gittin' +use to bein' free niggahs, an' happy in our cabin, one night a gen'ulman +from de no'th was to see us an' he tol' us if we'd go wid him he'd pay +us big wages an' gin us a fine house to boot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Fer two nights we sot dere by dat chimbly a-thinkin' a sight to do or +to don't and ponderin' this way and t'other one. Den we 'cided to go. We +lef ev'y thing dar 'ceptin' whut we tied up in a bandana han'chief, and +we tied that onto a stick for de gen'ulman from de no'th wouldn't let us +take no baggage. We was goin' to Columbus, Georgia, but we didn't know +dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Li'l Missy, when we got dar, whar he was a-takin' us, we foun' the big +wages to be fifty cents a month, and dat fine house tu'ned out to be mo' +like a stable. Instid of our cabin and gyarden and chickens and our +trees, we had a turrible place, right out under the hot sun wid watah +miles away down a hill. And he wan't no gent'man from de no'th!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Missy, I nebber will be able to tell myself whut made us do hit no mo' +den I'll ebber be able to tell how skeered I was one night when de wind +howled an' de lightnin' was sprayin' ober de place an' de rain was so +turrible hit was a-sobbin' in de fire. We knowed de debbil was ridin' de +win' dat night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We was a-sittin' dar befo' de fire, me an' my ol' woman, when we heard +a stompin' like a million horses had stopped outside de do'. We tipped +to de do' an' peeked out an', li'l Missy, whut we seed was so turrible +our eyes jes' mos' popped out our haid. Dere was a million hosses all +kivered in white, wid dey eyes pokin' out and a-settin' on de hosses was +men kivered in white too, tall as giants, an' dey eyes was a-pokin' out +too. Dere was a leader an' he heldt a bu'nin' cross in his hand.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When we seed dat, we fell on our po' knees, skeered mos' to def an' we +axed de Great Marster to holp two po' ol' niggers an' holp 'em quick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De fust thing we knowed dem Ku Kluxes had de gen'man from de no'th out +of his hidin' place 'hind our house an' a-settin' on one of dem hosses. +Dey nebber spoke wid him. Dey jes' tuk him off somewhar, we nebber +knowed whar, but he di'n't come back no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Li'l Missy, we heard arterwards dat dis gen'lman from de no'th was no +qual'ty a-tall. Dat he was de wu'st leadah of all de debilment bein' +done; one of dem carpet-baggin' men.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nex' day arter de Ku Kluxes cotched dis man, his wife lef' Columbus in +a hurry, sayin' she couldn't sociate wid de Columbus ladies 'caze dey +was so po'. Dey wa po'! Dey is no denyin' that. We was all po' caze the +Yankees done ruint Columbus. But, li'l Missy, dey's a big dif'ence in +bein' po' an' qual'ty and' bein' jes po' white trash.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-106"> +<span id="id32"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Gabe Hines" src="images/image184hines.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Gabe Hines, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"What did I do then? Well, li'l Missy, we lef' Columbus arter whut +happen'd an' we walked to Eufaula, whar twas safe to be. For forty yeahs +I w'uked for de city and Anna, she tuk in washin'. Endurin' dat time we +was gettin' along pretty likely, when one day Gabriel blew his horn for +Anna, and Gabe was lef' alone.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ol' woman's gone. Li'l Missy, mos' ev'y one I knowed is daid. Dis +heah cabin ain' home to me no mo'. Hits lonely ev'y whar. Maybe I'd +orter be thinkin' 'bout Canaan, but hits ol' times crowds dis ol' +darkey's heart. Li'l Missy, may be whin I gits to whar Anna is hit will +be ol' times all ovah ag'in."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="adeline-hodges"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id120">Adeline Hodges</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with 'Aunt' Adeline Hodges</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">3 Frye Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, [HW: Mobile?]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HONGRY FOR PUN'KIN PIE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Adeline, a tall, gaunt, bright-skinned Negro woman, lives on Frye +St., Mobile, Ala. The day I called she was nodding in a cane bottom +rocking chair on a wide porch that extended across the front of a +cottage almost hidden in a grove of giant oaks. She opened her eyes, +which were covered by a pair of steel-rimmed glasses with one lens badly +cracked. The news that a search was being made for old people who had +lived during slavery days acted like an electric shock on the old woman, +who immediately sat up straight and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lor, yes'm, I libed in dose days, and I tells you I 'members all 'bout +dem. Do come in and set down. De fust white people I b'longed to was a +man named Jones, who was a colonel in de war, but I can't tell you much +'bout dem, 'caze I was jes' a li'l gal den. I was jes' big 'nuff to tote +water to de fiel' to de folks wukking and to min' de gaps in de fence to +keep de cattle out when dey was gatherin' de crops. I don't 'spec' you +knows anything 'bout dose kind of fences. Dey was built of rails and +when dey was gatherin' de crops dey jes' tuk down one section of de +fence, so de wagons could git through.</p> +<p class="pnext">"A'ter de war broke out ole Mister Jones went off to hit, and I 'members +de day he lef'. He come to de fiel' to tell all de han's goodbye, wid a +big white plume on his hat. Dat was in Bolivar County, Mississippi. +A'ter ol' Mister Jones lef' for de war, den de nigger drivers an' +oberseer begun to drive us 'round lack droves of cattle. Every time dey +would hyar de Yankees was coming dey would take us out in de woods and +hide us. Finally dey sold us a'ter carrying us away from Bolivar County. +Some of us was sold to people in Demopolis, Alabama, an' Atlanta, +Georgia, an' some to folks in Meridian and Shubuta, Mississippi. I +don't any more know whar my own folks went to dan you does.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members afore leaving ole Mister Jones' place how dey grabbed up all +de chillun dat was too li'l to walk and puttin' us in wagons. Den de +older folks had to walk, and dey marched all day long. Den at night dey +would strike camp. I has seen de young niggers what was liable to run +away wid dere legs chained to a tree or de wagon wheels. Dey would rake +up straw and throw a quilt ober hit and lie dat way all night, while us +chillun slep' in de wagons.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us come to de big river at Demopolis, Alabama, I 'members seein' +de big steamboats dere, and dey said dat de sojers was goin' away on +dem. Hit was in Demopolis us was sold, and a man name Ned Collins of +Shubuta, Mississippi, bought me."</p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Adeline said that the houses the slaves lived in on the Jones +plantation were board houses, and that Mr. Jones owned a big plantation +and lots of slaves. She said that they had home-made beds, nailed to the +walls, with mattresses made out of shucks.</p> +<p class="pnext">After having been sold to Mr. Collins, of Shubuta, Mississippi, 'Aunt' +Adeline said that life was very hard, not so much for herself, but she +saw how hard the other slaves worked. She was the house girl and helped +clean house, wash dishes, and take care of the children. After finishing +that work, she had to spin thread. Each day she would have to spin so +many cuts, and if she did not finish the required number, she was +punished.</p> +<p class="pnext">She said that her mistress kept the finished work on top of a large +wardrobe, and 'Aunt' Adeline said that many times she would steal a cut +of thread off that wardrobe to complete the day's task to keep from +being punished.</p> +<p class="pnext">As she grew older she did have to go to the field and pick cotton. +'Aunt' Adeline does not remember it pleasantly. She said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I jes' hates to hab to weigh anything today, 'caze I 'members so well +dat each day dat de slaves was given a certain number of pounds of +cotton to pick. When weighing up time come and you didn't hab de number +of pounds set aside, you may be sho' dat you was goin' to be whupped. +But hit wasn't all bad times 'caze us did hab plenty to eat, 'specially +at hog killin' time. Dey would hab days ob hog killin' and de slaves +would bake dere bread and come wid pots, pepper, and salt. A'ter +cleanin' de hogs, dey would gib us de livers and lights, and us would +cook dem ober a fire out in de open and hit sho' was good eatin'. De +usual 'lowance a week of pickled pork was six or seven pounds, and iffen +you had a big family of chillun dey gib you more. Den dey gib you a peck +of meal, sweet 'taters, sorghum syrup, and plenty of buttermilk. At +Christmas times, dey gib you extra syrup to make cakes wid and sweet +'taters to make 'tater pone. And, Lor', dey would hab big cribs of +pun'kins. Hit makes me hongry to think 'bout dem good ol' pun'kin pies.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And did dey raise chickens? You knows in Mississippi dat de minks was +bad 'bout killin' dem. I 'members one time de minks got in de chicken +house and killed nearly every chicken on de place. Ole Mister Jones had +de cook to clean and cook dem, and he come out in de fiel' an' eat wid +dem to let de slaves know dat hit was all right. Den us had dem good ol' +cushaws and lye hominy, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De clothes was made out ob homespun in one piece. I 'members I allus +had mine split up de side so I could git 'bout in a hurry. De women had +pantalettes made and tied to dere knees to wear in de fields to keep de +dew off dere legs. De shoes was made of cow hide and was called red +russets. De way dey got dem darker was to take a hog 'gristle' and hang +up in de chimbley. When hit git full of soot, we rub de shoes wid dat. +Den dey used de darker shoes for dere Sunday best.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You asked me about huntin'? Lor', yes dey hunted in dem times. Up in +dem swamps in Mississippi dere was bears as big as cows, and deers +aplenty. Dey bofe was bad about comin' in de corn fiel's and tearin' +down de corn. You could hyar dem at nights out in de fiel's. Dey also +caught plenty of possums and coons.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Of course, us got sick, but dey had de doctor. In dose days de doctor +would cup you and bleed you. I seen a many a person cupped. De doctor +had a li'l square lookin' block of wood wid tiny li'l knifes attached to +hit. On top was a trigger lack is on a gun, and de doctor would put de +block of wood at de nape of dere neck an' pull dat trigger. Den he hab a +piece of cotton wid somepin' on hit to stop de blood when he had cupped +you long 'nough. Dey would allus gib us calamus (calomel) to clean us +out, and den de nex' mawnin' dey gib us a big bowl of gruel made out ob +meal and milk. Den us'd be all right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slaves warn't 'lowed to go to church, but dey would whisper 'roun' +and all meet in de woods and pray. De only time I 'members my pa was one +time when I was a li'l chile, he set me on a log by him an' prayed, an' +I knows dat was whar de seeds ob religion was planted in my min'. Today +I's happy to tell folks 'bout Jesus and thank Him for His goodness to +me. Hit won't be long twell I meet Him face to face and thank Him."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="caroline-holland"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id121">Caroline Holland</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Caroline Holland</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mabel Farrior</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">CAROLINE HOLLAND HAD MANY MASTERS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, I was a slave," spoke Aunt Carry from her vine-shaded porch at +No. 3 Sharpe Street, Montgomery, Alabama. "I was borned in 1849 on Mr. +Will Wright's plantation on the Mt. Meigs road. Massa Will had a big +slave house an' us niggers sho' use to have a good time playin' 'roun' +down at de slave quarters. We had a row of houses two stories high, an' +dey was filled wid all sorts of niggers. When I was twelve year old, I +was made nu'ss fer my mistis's little girl an' at de fus' I couldn't do +nothin' but rock de cradle. I didn't know how to hol' de baby. Us +niggers had gardeens (guardians) dat look 'atter us lak dey did atter de +hosses and cows and pigs.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One night atter we had all gone to bed I heered a noise at de window, +an' when I look up dere was a man a climbin' in. He was a nigger. I +could tell eben do I could scarce see him, I knowed he was a nigger. I +could hear my mistis a breathin', an' de baby was soun' asleep too. I +started to yell out but I thought dat de nigger would kill us so I jes' +kep' quiet. He come in de window, an' he see us a sleepin' dere, an' all +of a sudden I knowed who it was. 'Jade,' I whispers, 'What you a doin' +here?' He come to my bed and put his rough han' ober my mouf.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Listen you black pickaninny, you tell em dat you saw me here an' I'll +kill you,' he say, 'I th'ow yo' hide to de snakes in de swamp. Now shet +up.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wid dat he went to de dresser an' taken mistis' money bag. Atter dat he +went to de window an' climb down de ladder an' I didn't do nothin' but +shake myself nearly to death fum fright. De nex' day de oberseer an' de +pattyrollers went a searchin' th'ough de slave quarters an' dey foun' de +money bag under Jade's cot. Dey tuk him an' whupped him for near fifteen +minutes. We could hear him holla way up at de big house. Jade, he neber +got ober dat whuppin'. He died three days later. He was a good nigger, +'peer to me lak, an' de bes' blacksmith in de whole county. I +ke'pa-wonderin' whut made him want ter steal dat purse. Den I foun' out +later dat he was a goin' to pay a white man ter carry him ober de line +to de No'thern States. Jade jus' had too big ideas fo' a nigger. I us'ta +see Jade's ghos' a walkin' out in de garden in de moonlight; sometime he +sit on de fence an' look at his ole cabin, den sometimes he stroll off +down de cotton fiel'. When de Lawd git th'ough a punishin' him fo' a +stealin' dat money, I guess he won't make us no mo' visits. He jus' go +right on in heaben. Dat's what ghos'tes is, you know; peoples dat can't +quite git in heaben, an' dey hadda stroll 'roun' little longer on de +outside repentin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Soon atter dat my gardeen tuk me to Tallasse when de massa died. My +gardeen was a good man. He was always a-makin' speeches fo' de slaves to +stay under bondage till dey was twenty-one. One dey he was in front of a +sto' talkin' 'bout de slaves an' a man come up to him an' said he don't +like de way Capt. Clanton talk (dat was my gardeen's name). Capt. +Clanton ask him whut he goin' ter do 'bout it an' de man tuk out a +pistol an' kil't de Cap'n raght dere on de spot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den I was sold to another man, a Mr. Williamson, 'bout de time de war +broke loose, an' Massa Williamson tuk me ober ter lib wid some mo' +peoples. He said he had mo' slaves dan he could take keer of. Dis was de +Abernathy plantation. While de massa was a standin' in de slave quarters +a takin' to Mr Abernathy, I noticed a boy wid a bad eye. I didn't lak +him at all an' I tol' de massa I don't wanna stay, kaze I didn't lak de +way dat boy Lum wid de bad eye looked at me. Den Mr. Abernathy brung a +boy 'bout sebenteen year old; a big strong lookin' boy named Jeff. He +say 'Jeff, look out after Carry here. Don't let her git into no +trouble.' Fum dat time on till 'bout five year ago, Jeff he always look +after me, kaze atter de war I ma'ied him. Now I ain't got nobody but +myself."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jane-holloway"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id122">Jane Holloway</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jane Holloway</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DEY BRUNG WHUPPIN'S ON DEYSELVES</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Jane Holloway was ill. For weeks she had been in bed, and the untidy +condition of her cabin brought profuse apologies when I entered.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Jane, do you remember me?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know, honey. I been sick so long wid de fluse I can't 'member +much of anything," she answered peering up at me from her pillow. +Suddenly she smiled, "Shucks. Co'se I 'members you, honey. Your daddy +sho' was good to my boys. Watt worked for him so long. Res' yourself in +dat cheer and I'll tell you all about myself and slavery times what I +can recollect.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se all alone now 'ceppen for my grandson. He ain't but +twelve and he can't ho'p much. But I guess I got no right to complain +I guess I done got me plenty outa life.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was borned up in North Alabama. My mammy was Carrie Holloway and my +pappy was Traylor Holloway. I had a brother Maryland. Dere nebber was +but de two of us. Us lived in a mud and log house, jes' one room but it +sho' had a big fireplace. Us had a good old time den, effen us jes' had +knowed it, 'caze us was always fed good. Dey had long wooden troughs +what dey poured our bread and milk in and us eat it wid a wooden spoon. +When dey yell, 'Chillun, chillun! Bread!' you bet we jes' burnt de wind +getting dere, 'caze us was always hongry.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had high tester beds in all de houses, what was 'bout a mile from de +Big House. It had four rooms and was all planked up. Mr. Billy Taylor +was mighty good to his niggers. He didn't have so many slaves, he jes' +had a little plantation. Our oberseer was good, too. He had to whip +some of dem sometimes, but dey wouldn't work. Dey brung it all on +deyselves.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-107"> +<span id="id33"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Jane Holloway" src="images/image194holloway.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Jane Holloway, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"When de Yankees come enduring de war, de men come arunning and a +screaming dat de Yankees coming. And dey did come on horseback and took +all our provisions what was in de smokehouse. Dey took everything we had +in de way of victuals and stock, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I j'ined de church when I was ten years old, 'caze I was trying to live +right and do what de Bible said. De white folks had deir services in de +morning, and in de evening would let us niggers have ourn."</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane forgot her misery long enough to come out to the porch of her +comparatively comfortable cabin and she was "plumb proud" to have her +"picture took."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="joseph-holmes"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id123">Joseph Holmes</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">I</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Joseph Holmes</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Grand Avenue, Prichard, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DEY KEP' NIGGERS IN GOOD CONDITION TO SELL</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Standing in the middle of the road at Prichard, suburb of Mobile, and +gesticulating while talking to a small group of interested listeners an +old Negro man ended his talk to the small gathering and punctuated his +last sentence with a spat of tobacco.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm," he continued after I had put in my appearance and asked him a +question, "I doesn't know whether I was a slave, but jus' de same I seed +Gen'l Grant's army when it went th'ough Virginny. Jus' as sho' as you is +standin' dar, lady, I seed dem mens all dressed in blue suits, +a-marching' side by side, gwine down de road pas' our place. It tuk 'em +three days to go by our house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' I remembers when dem Yankees came to our ole Mistis' house an' take +a ladder an' clumb up to de roof an' tear de boards outter de ceilin' to +git dem big hams an' shoulders my white folks done had hid up dar. When +de Yankees find dat stuff dey give it all to de niggers. Den atter de +solgers lef' ole Miss called us to her an' tol' us we was free, but for +us to give back some of de meat an' things dat de Yankees done give us, +'ca'se she didn't have nothin' to eat 'roun' de place. 'Course we was +glad to do it, 'ca'se Mistis sho' was good to us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remembers ebery Sunday mawnin' dat she'd make de older slaves bring +all de little niggers up to de big house, so she could read de Bible to +'em, and den she give us plenty of dem good biscuits and taters dat +Susanne cook for us. She'd say: 'Git 'roun' dere, Susanne, and he'p dem +little niggers' plates.' I really thought Mistis was a angel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Talkin' 'bout niggers bein' free. Ole Miss tol' us was free, but it was +ten or twelve years atter de surrender befo' I knowed whut she meant. I +was a big boy goin' to school befo' I had an understandin' as to what +she meant.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Miss taught de niggers how to read an' write an' some of 'em got to +be too good at it, 'ca'se dey learned how to write too many passes so's +de pattyrollers wouldn't cotch 'em, an' on dem occasions was de onlyes' +times dat I ever seed one of our niggers punished.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mistis never 'lowed no mistreatin' of de slaves, 'case dey was raisin' +slaves for de market, an' it wouldn't be good bizness to mistreat 'em. +Lor' Miss, my white folks was rich; dey had as many as five or six +hundred niggers; men, women an' chilluns. De plantation was big, but I +doesn't remember how many acres it was, but I does remember dat de +cabins was all built in rows, an' dere was streets laid out among de +cabins. De chimneys was built outten dirt an' sticks, an' you know up in +Virginny it got powerful cold, so when dey built de cabins dey th'owed +dirt up under 'em to keep de wind an' snow out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was bawn in Henry County, Virginny, near Danville, an' I's been to +Vicksburg an' Petersburg a many a time wid my pappy to de wheat an' +'bacca market. Lor', honey, Virginny is de bes' place on earth for good +eaten' an' good white folks. If anybody tells you dat de white folks was +mean to dere niggers, dey neber come from Virginny, 'case us was too +near de free states, an' I done already tol' you dat dey raised niggers +to sell an' dey kep' 'em in good condition. In dose days white folks an' +black folks was black folks. Jus' lak Booker T. Washington was a riber +between de niggers of dis generation an' learnin'. He had all dat was +fine an' good, an' he give de bes' to his people iffen dey would take +it. Dat was de way wid de white folks den; dey didn't do no whuppin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's de onlyes' rat lef' in de pond, an' 'case I ain't hung in de smoke +house, folks thinks I's not as old as I say I is, but chile, I's been +here a long time. I 'members how black Sam useta preach to us, an' when +I growed up I useta think warnt nobody Christians cep'n us Babtists, but +I know better now, an' de longer I lives de mo' I realizes dat de +churches go 'way 'case dey leaves off de ordinances of God, although us +has a Bible an' mo' Christian readin' dan ever befo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy's name was Eliza Rowlets an' my pappy's was Joseph Holmes. My +pappy had de same name as de peoples dat owned him an' my gran'mammy +name was Lucy Holmes. Gran'mammy Holmes lived to be over a hundred years +old, an' she was de fust pusson I ever seed daid. In dem days it tuk +three days to bury a pusson, 'case dey dug de graves as deep as de +corpse was tall.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Land sakes a-livin', us had great times, an' I forgot to tell you dat +us had home-made beds wid two sides nailed to de wall an' de mattresses +was made outen wheat straw.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As for huntin' I done plenty of it an' one thing I got to git +forgiveness for was when I lef' Virginny, I lef' 'bout fifty or sixty +snares set to cotch rabbits an' birds.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy had eight chilluns an' we was raised in pairs. I had a sister +who come along wid me, an' iffen I jumped in de river she done it too. +An' iffen I go th'ough a briar patch, here she come along too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout de fruit; it makes my mouth water to think about dem cheese +apples, dat was yaller lak gold, an' dose Abraham apples, an' de cherry +tree as big as dese oaks here. I's eaten many a big sugar and sweetheart +cherry. But dere was another kind called de Gorilla dat growed as big as +de yaller plums down dis way. Now let me tell you somp'n 'bout Virginny; +'dey had dere laws 'bout drink. Dey had de bes' peach an' cherry brandy +an' mos' any kin' you eber heared of, but dey didn't 'low you to make +drink outten anything you could make bread wid; sich as corn or rye. Us +had our brandy same as you would coffee, 'case it was cold, an' some +mawnin's my pappy would git de brandy out an' my mammy would putt a +little water an' sugar wid it an' gib it to us chilluns. Us neber +thought nothin' 'bout drinkin'. I kinda believes lak dat ole infidel +Ingersoll who said dat anything dat was a custom was dere religion.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now you axed about hog-killin' time? Dat was de time of times. For +weeks de mens would haul wood an' big rocks, an' pile 'em together as +high as dis house, an' den have several piles lak dat 'roun' a big hole +in de groun' what had been filled wid water. Den jus' a little atter +midnight, de boss would blow de ole hawn, an' all de mens would git up +an' git in dem pig pens. Den dey would sot dat pile of wood on fire an' +den start knockin' dem hogs in de haid. Us neber shot a hog lak us does +now; us always used an axe to kill 'em wid. Atter knockin' de hog in de +haid, dey would tie a rope on his leg an' atter de water got to de right +heat, fum dose red-hot rocks de hog would be throwed in an' drug aroun' +a while, den taken out an' cleaned. Atter he was cleaned he was cut up +into sections an' hung up in de smoke house. Lawsie, lady, dey don't +cure meat dese days; dey jus' uses some kind of liquid to brush over it. +We useta have sho' 'nuff meat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den come cawnshuckin' time. My goodness, I would jus' love to be dar +now. De cawn would be piled up high an' one man would git on dat pile. +It was usually a kinda nigger foreman who could sing an' git de work +outten de niggers. Dis fo'man would sing a verse somp'n lak dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Polk and Clay went to war,</div> +<div class="line">Polk come back wid a broken jaw.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Den all de niggers would sing back at him wid a kinda shoutin' sound. +Near 'bout all de times de fo'man made up his own songs, by pickin' dem +outen dat shuckin'! It war de jug dat dey brung aroun' eve'y hour. Dat's +de onlyes' time de slaves really got drunk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In dem ole days I went to plenty of dances an' candy pullin's durin' de +Yule season, but I doesn't do dat no mo'. I's a preacher an' when I fus' +lef' Virginny, I come to Georgy an' stayed dar twenty years whar I +kicked up plenty of dus'. I even taught school dar. Den I come to +Alabamy an' lived in Evergreen for 'bout twenty mo' years. Since I been +in Mobile I's worked for sich men as ole Simon, Damrich, an' Van +Antwerp, an' all dere chilluns has been in dese here arms of mine. I's +been a square citizen an' dere hasn't been a time dat I is had to call +on nobody but Uncle Sam when ole man 'pression cotched me. But thank de +Lawd I is still able to git about an' have all my senses 'cep' my +eye-sight, an' it's jus' a little po'ly. I is got all my teeths 'cep' +one, an' my mammy was always proud of my hair. See how silky an' fine it +is? Not quite white, dough. I hope I lives long enough for it to turn +white as snow. I think St. Peter will lak it better dat way."</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">II</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Joseph Holmes</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Grand Avenue, Prichard, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">TWELVE YEARS 'TWELL I UNDERSTOOD SURRENDER</em></p> +<p class="pnext">In the middle of the road near Prichard, an incorporated suburb of +Mobile, stood an aged Negro man, gesticulating as he told a tale of +other days to a small audience. Tall, straight, with gray hair and +mustache, he was a picturesque figure. He does not know whether he was +born in slavery, he said, but he knows his age to be about eighty-one.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I doesn't know whether I was a slave, but jes' de same I seed Gineral +Grant's army when hit went th'ough Virginny," he said "Jes' as sho' as +yo' is standin' dar, lady, I seed him, and I seed dem men all dressed in +dem blue suits a-marchin' side by side, gwine down de road pas' our +place. Hit tuk dem three days tuh git pas' our house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' does I 'member when dem Yankees come tuh Ol' Mistiss house an' tuk +a ladder an' clim' up tuh de roof an' tear de boards outta de ceilin' +tuh git dem big hams an' shoulders dey had hid up dar? I sho' does. De +women folks makes de slaves hide wid de meat; an' when dem Yankees fin' +dat stuff dey jes' gib hit all tuh de niggers, an' I 'members too, how +Ol' Miss calls us all to her atter dey lef' an' tole us dat us was free, +but she tole us dat us hab tuh gib back ob de meat an' 'serves 'case she +didn't hab a bit tuh eat. 'Cose we was glad tuh do hit 'case Ol' Miss +sho' was good tuh her slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members ebery Sunday mawnin' dat she made de older slaves bring all +de little niggers up to her big white, two-story house, so she could +read de Bible to us, an' den she gib us plenty dem good biscuits an' +'taters dat she had de cook, Susanne, cook for us. She'd say 'Git 'roun' +dere, Susanne, an' he'p dem li'l niggers plates,' I, railly thought Ol' +Miss was an angel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Talkin 'bout niggers bein' freed, Ol' Miss tole us us was free, but hit +was ten or twelve years atter de Surrender, befo' I knowed whut she was +talkin' 'bout. I was a big boy goin' to school befo' I had any +understanin' as tuh whut she meant.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Miss taught de niggers how to read an' write, an' some ob dem got +to be too 'ficient wid de writin', 'case dey larn how tuh write too many +passes so de pattyrollers wudn't git dem. Dat was de onliest time I +ebber knowed Ol' Miss tuh hab de slaves punished.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Miss nebber 'lowed no mistreatin' de slaves, case dey was raisin' +slaves for de market, an' hit wouldn't be good business to mistreat 'em. +Lor' mah white folks was rich; dey had as many as five or six hundred +niggers, men, women and chillun. De plantation was big but I don't +'member how many acres I does 'member de cabins was all built in rows, +an' streets was laid out 'tween de cabins. De chimbeys was built outta +dirt an' sticks, an' sticks, an' yo' know up in Virginny hit got +turrible cold an' de snow would pile up, so when de cabins was built, de +men th'owed dirt up under de house to keep de snow an' cold out. Yo' +might think dat dirt would wash out from under de house, but hit didn't. +Hit jes' made dem so warm an' com'fo'ble we did'nt suffer.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat was de way wid de white folks den; dey didn't do no whippin' an' +mistreatin' ob de slaves. Oh, once in a while Ol' Miss might slap de +cook's face an' tell her tuh bear down 'roun' dere, an' if she wanted de +servin' boys to hurry, she would say 'Cutch hit,' meanin' fer dem to cut +some steps an' git 'bout in a hurry.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's de ol'est rat in de pon', an' 'case I ain't hung in de smokehouse, +folks think I's not as ol' as I says I is, but chile, I's been heah. I +'members how Sam useta to preach to us, when we was at Ol' Miss's place, +an' when I growed up, I 'members how I useta think nobody was a +Christian 'ceptin' us Baptists, but I knows better now. An' de longer I +lib de mo' I realize dat de chu'ches go away 'case dey leabes off de +ordinances ob God, 'tho us has got de Bible an' mo' Christian +litterchoor dan eber befo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ma's name was 'Liza Rowlets, an' mah daddy's name was Joseph Holmes. +My daddy had de same name as de people whut owned him, an' my gran'ma's +name was Lucy Holmes. Gran'ma Lucy libed to be a hundred yeahs old, an' +she was de fust pusson I ebber seed daid. Hit tuk three days tuh bu'y a +pusson den, 'case dey dug de graves as deep as yo' is tall, which means +mo' than five feet deep. Lor' sakes a-livin' us had great times. I +forgot tuh tell yo' dat us had home-made beds wid two sides nailed tuh +de wall, an' de mattresses was made outta wheat straw. Dat's 'minds me +dat dere wa'n't no pore cattle in dem times, 'case yo' could go whar dey +thresh de wheat an' git all de straw yo' wanted an' feed de dry cattle +on hit. An' you wouldn't believe de fruit us did hab! Yo don't nebber +see de like down dis way. Sich as apples, cherries, quinces, peaches an' +pears.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As fer huntin', I done plenty of it, an' one thing I got to git +forgiveness fer was when I lef' Virginny, I lef' 'bout sixty or seventy +snares set to ketch rabbits an' birds.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ma had eight chillun an' we was raised in pairs. I had a sister who +come along wid me, an' if I jumped in de ribber tuh swim, she did hit +too; if I clum' a tree, or went th'ough a briar patch, she done hit +right behin' me. Ma wanted to know why her clo's was so tore up, an' +when dey was pretty, we'd make hit right wid Ma by havin' a rabbit or +coon wid us, an' sometimes a mud turtle. An' as fer 'possums an' coons, +us ketch dem in plenty.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout de fruit, hit makes mah mouf watah tuh think 'bout dem cheese +apples dat was yaller lac' gold, an' dose Abraham apples de lack of +which ain't now to be had. An' dose cherry trees as big as dese oaks, +wid long limbs an' big sugar an' sweetheart, an' black heart cherries. +Den dere was annudder kin' of cherry called de gorilla, dat was roun' +an' growed as big as de yaller plums down dis way.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, let me tell yo' sumpin' 'bout Virginny. Hit had hits own law 'bout +drink. Dey made de bes' peach an' cherry brandy an' mos' any kin' yo' +ebber heerd ob, 'ceptin' dey didn't 'low yo' to make drink out ob +anythin' you could make into bread. Now yo' understan's, sich as corn +and rye.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had our brandy same as yo' would coffee, 'case hit was cold an' some +mawnin's us would git up an' de snow would be halfway up de do', an' de +men would hab to ditch hit out, so us could git out of de house. On dem +rail cold mawnin's my daddy would git de brandy out an' my ma wud put a +li'l water an' sugar wid hit an gib to us chillun. An' den she'd take +some in her mouf' an' put hit in de baby's mouf an' hit wud open hits +eyes an' stamp hits foot rail peart lack.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us nebber thought nothin' of drinkin'. I kinda believes lack dat ol' +infidel, Ingersoll, who said dat anythin' dat was de custom, was de +religion.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Folks was a heap kinder-hearted den dey is now, 'case dey kep' big dogs +to hunt up people los' in de snow. Dey all seemed mo' happy 'case dey +was all busy. At night instid of wastin' dey time, dey wud go tuh de big +house an' spin an' weave an' make clo's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I kin hyar dat ol' loom hummin' now, an' see great cards ob cloth +comin' out, an' dem was clo's den dat was made from hit. Hit tuck fire +tuh git dem offen' yo' dey was so strong. I doesn't 'member whut dey +used fer dye, but I knows dey used copperas as sizin' to hol' de colors. +Some of de cloth was dyed red, blue an' black. I jes' can't 'member +'bout de dye, but dey used copperas. 'Dat was the qualification of de +intelligence ob de primitive age', in usin' dat copperas. Dey not only +made our clo's, but also made out hats. Of co'se dey wa'n't very hatty, +but was mo' cappy. Dey made 'em wid tabs ober de ears, an' to tie under +de chin, an' was dey warm, I'll say!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, when yo' axes 'bout hawg killin' time, dat was de time! Fer weeks +de men would haul wood and big rocks, an' pile hit all together as high +as dat house; den hab sev'ral piles like dese 'roun' a big hole in de +groun' whut had been filled wid watah. Den jes' a li'l atter mid-night +de boss would blow de ol' horn, an' all de men would git up an' git in +dem hog pens. Den dey would set dat pile of wood on fire, an' den start +knockin' dem hawgs in de haid. Us nebber shot a hawg like dey does now. +Us allus used an ax to kill 'em wid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter knockin' de hawg in de haid, dey would tie a rope on hits leg, an +atter de water got to de right heat from dose red hot rocks whut had +been pushed out ob dat pile ob nu'in wood into de watah, dey wud th'ow +de hog in an' drag hit aroun' awhile, an' take him out an' hab him clean +in 'bout three pair o' minutes. Atter he was clean dey hung him up, an' +den later cut him up an' hung him in de smoke house, an' smoke him wid +great oak logs. Huh, dey don't cu'ah meat now, dey jes' use sum kinda +brush an' liquid, but dey don't hab meat lack us did.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den come co'shuckin' time. Mah goodness, I jes' would love to be dere +now. De co'n would be piled up high an' one man would git on dat pile. +Hit usually was one who was kinda niggah fo'man dat could sing an' get +de wuck out of de odder niggers. Dis fo'man would sing a verse somethin' +lack dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Polk an' Clay went to War,</div> +<div class="line">An' Polk come back wid a broken jar.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Den all de niggers would sing back to him, an' hallo, a kinder shoutin' +soun'. Ginerally dis fo'man made up his songs by pickin' dem up from +whut he had heard white folks tell of wars. But Miss yo' know whut was +de motor powah of dat co'n shuckin'? Hit was de ol' jug dat was brung +'roun' ebery hour. Dat's de onliest time any ob de slaves railly got +drunk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I wish I could 'member dose ol' songs, but all dat hallo done lef' me, +'case de onliest singin' I hears now is de good ol' sisters singin' an' +sayin' 'Amen.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"In days gone by I went to plenty of dances an' candy pullin's but I +doesn't do dat any mo'. I's a preacher, an' when I fu'st lef' Virginny I +come to Georgia an' stayed dere twenty yeahs, an' I kicked up a plenty +of dust in Georgia. I eben taught school an' built a plenty of chu'ches +dere. Den I come on to Alabammy, an' libed in Evergreen fo' about twenty +mo' yeahs, an' I built a two-story brick chu'ch dere. Since I's been in +Mobile I's wu'ked by dat Bienville Squah for twenty-eight years, for +sich men as ol' man Simon, Damrich, an' Van Antwerp, an' all dere +chillun has been in dese arms. I's been a squah citizen an' dere hasn't +been but one time in mah life I's had to call on anybody, an' dat was +when I had tuh call on Uncle Sam when ol' man Depression got me. But +thank God I's still able to be 'bout an' have all my faculties, 'ceptin' +my eyesight is a li'l porely. I still has all mah teeth, 'ceptin' one, +an' my ma allus tuck pride in mah haih, yo' see how fine an' silky hit +is, an' hit ain't snow white yit. Dere is one thing to be thankful fer. +Dat is 'case I's so near home."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="josh-horn"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id124">Josh Horn</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Josh Horn</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">CHASING GUINEA JIM, THE RUNAWAY SLAVE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Seven miles East from Livingston on State Road No. 80, thence Left two +miles via a dim road through the woods to a cultivated section, the +beginning of a large plantation area, stands the old-timey cabin of Josh +Horn, a well known and influential figure in the colored community. +Vigorous and active despite his more than 80 years, Josh exemplifies the +gentleness with which time deals with those dwelling in a healthful spot +and living the simple lives of a rural people. I found him nodding on +his front steps.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Josh," I said, "I've come to get you to tell me some old war-time +stories, and I want to ask you some questions about you and Alice and +how you-all are getting along. I just want to know all about you and +your family as far back as you can remember."</p> +<p class="pnext">"All right, Miss Ruby, I's glad to tell you what I knows," said Josh, +"and it ain't gonna be a lot of fibbin', but jes' lak everything was. +I's telling you lak you axed me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, 'bout how us is getting along. I's telling you de troof, ef I was +took 'fore God, I'd say jes' lak I's saying now, ef my chillun ever et a +moufful dat wasn't honest, dey et it somewhar else, 'ca'se I ain't ever +stole a moufful somepin' t'eat for 'em in all my life. It's honest +vittles dey et, and varmints I's killed in de woods, 'ca'se us raised +chillun fast, and us had a heap of 'em, sixteen, if I 'members right, +and soon's I found out dat I could help feed 'em dat way, I done a heap +of hunting. And everybody knows I's a good hunter. Alice used to make me +go every Friday night; den us always had a 'possum or two for Sunday."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Why," I asked, "didn't you go Saturday night?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I'll tell you," Josh said, "Alice is a good Christian woman, and +she knowed I'd hunt mighty nigh all night, and she didn't want nobody +see me coming in Sunday morning wid no gun and no dogs; so I went every +Friday night and went in de week too, and dat holp a lot to feed de +chillun. I don't owe nobody, not a nickel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lak to got in debt, when de Government come in and tried to help us +wid dat cotton doings. Dey cut it down so on me, tell I couldn't make +nothing; but I's getting on all right now, and so is my chillun. Us is +got fourteen living, and dey's all been to school, but ain't but one +been to Booker Washington's school, but dey kin all read and write, and +some of 'em teaching school out here in de country. De doctor, he come +clear out here to see us, 'ca'se I always pays him. He jes' here wid +Alice last night. It's nine mile and two of dem's back here in de woods +through Marse Johnnie's place, but he come when us went atter him 'bout +midnight, and dat's a comfort to know he come."</p> +<p class="pnext">I asked, what was the matter with Alice.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I'll tell you, Miss Ruby. She was back dere wid me in de +kitchen, and I got through eating and I come out and set down in de +swinger to git some air. De moon was shining, and Alice come out, +saying loud as she could: 'Who is you? Who is you?' De chillun run +to her wid a lamp and I run, and 'twan't nobody dere. Well, Alice said +'twas a big man standing right 'side her dressed in black, and she +called it Death. Us couldn't do nothing wid her, and she didn't know +nobody, me nor de chillun, so I went to Livingston atter Dr. McCain, +and he come and set wid her 'bout a hour. He said 'twas de 'cute +'digestion or somepin' lak dat. I knowed 'twan't no sperrit; I don't +b'lieve in nothing lak dat."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well," I said, "I don't know, Josh, I've been hearing some ghost tales +that freeze the blood in my veins."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum," said Josh, "if you wants to hear ghost tales, I kin sho tell +'em, ca'se I seed dis here wid my own eyes. 'Tain't no made-up nothing, +needer; jes' somepin' I seed jes' lak I tells you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Green Hale and Isham Mathews b'longed to New Hope church, and de +Reverend Bird Hall pastored dere. Dey axed me down to hear him preach +one night, and us three, me and Green and Isham, was riding along side +and side. I's riding a mule, but it was a fast mule, and Green couldn't +keep up, en Isham said: 'Somebody been hunting.' I looked up and 'twas a +sapling right 'cross de road. He said, 'Fellow oughten leave nothing lak +dat. When de moon git low, it hit him in de face.' De moon was straight +up and down den, and I said: 'Dat's right', and I's telling you de +troof, dat sapling jes' riz up, turned aroun' in de air, en de brush +part tickled my mule and Isham's hoss in de face. If you ever seed 'em +buck and rare and jump up, dey sho did. Den dey took off down de road, +and we didn't hold 'em back, and here come Green. We lef' him behind, +'cause his mule couldn't keep up. If you ever heard a man pray more +earnester dan old Green, I ain't! He come down de road a-yelling: 'Lord, +us live togedder, let us die togedder.' He meant for us to wait on him, +but I couldn't hold dat mule, and I wan't trying to hold him! I was +gitting away from dar!</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us come togedder, us was a mile from whar us done been, den us had +to decide what to do. Isham said for us to go wid him, and Green said +no, us nearer to his house; but us wan't near to nobody and I was so +scared, hadn't been for Alice, I'd a jes' stayed right whar us was 'tell +sun-up. I said, 'No, every man better take keer his own self,' en us +did. When I got home, I didn't take nothing off dat mule but myself. I +jes' left him standing at de do' wid de saddle on. What skeered Green +so, was a man, he said, what was ridin' right 'side him en didn't have +no head! 'Twas a good thing he didn't tell me dat den, I'd jes' nacherly +drap dead!</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, I don't 'zackly believes in ghosties, but I heared Mr. Marshall +Lee say he was riding on home one night and a woman stepped out in de +road and say: 'Marshall, let me ride.' He say: 'My hoss won't tote +double.' She say: 'Yes it will,' and she jump up behind him, and dat +hoss bucked and jumped nigh 'bout from under him, but when he got home, +she wan't dere. He say, his sister had jes' died and it mout been her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Nother time, one Friday night, Alice say us better git a 'possum for +Sunday. She say she didn't want none caught atter midnight on Sadday. I +went down whar I knowed dey was 'simmons, and dem dogs never treed +nothing; dey jes' run 'round dat 'simmon tree lak dey gone crazy. I'm +telling you de troof, somepin' jump outer dat tree, had a head back'erds +and for'erds and look lak a flame shooting out it eyes! 'Twan't lak no +possum I ever seed, 'twan't lak nothing. Dem dogs, Liz and Roger en +Cuba, made a bluge at me. Cotton was waist high, and I run down de +cotton row and cross de road and dey trail me. I say: 'What ail you, +dogs?' And dey jes' come on a-barkin', and dey run me to de bridge over +Konkabyer. So I clumb on de banisters. I seed dey had my trail an dey +gonna ketch me, so I turn 'round and tore out for de slough. Dey lost my +trail dere and when I got home, 'bout daylight, de thorns and de briars +and all done tore my clothes plum off me. 'Twas t'ree days 'fore I ever +seed dem dogs ag'in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And I kin tell you somepin' else. It's jes' lak I say, I's always been +a hunter, en one night I went down in de post oak woods hunting by +myself. Dis is a fact; 'tain't no lie. It's what I done. I had a mighty +good dog, and I jes' kept walking and walking, and I got mighty nigh to +Mr. Redhead Jim Lee's place, and I walked on and atter while I seed I'd +lost my dog. I couldn't see him nowhar and I couldn't hear him nowhar, +and den somepin' say to me, jes' lak dis: 'Josh, blow your horn!' Jes' +lak dat, lak somebody talking to me. Well I give three loud, long blows +and set dere awhile longer but dat dog didn't come. Co'se I knowed he'd +come sometime, and so I jes' set dere on dat log and I jes' turned a +fool, I reckon, but 'twas jes' lak somebody talking to me, lak it +'peared to me was whispering: 'Josh, you out here in dese woods by +yo'self. You blowed dat horn and your enemy heard you. You's a fool, you +is.' And I whispered back: 'Dat's a fact.' I couldn't hear what it was +a-whispering to me, but us jes' talk back to one 'nuther, and 'bout dat +time I look up and here come three men ridin' on new saddles wid shiny +buckles gwine, 'squeechy, squeechy', jes' lak dat. I hears de hosses +feed jes' as nachel as could be. I thought sho I seed 'em, and it 'pears +to look clean outer reason, but dem men come riding right on up to me, +and I jump over dat log and lay down flat on de other side, and it look +lak I could see right through dat log and heard 'em say: 'Dar he is, dar +he is', and I seed 'em p'inting dey finger right whar I was. I knowed +dem hosses gwineter step over de log on top me, and I's telling you de +troof, I jump up from 'hind dat log and run 'bout two miles, and if it +hadn't been for dat slough, I don't know whar I'd a went. I come to +myself in de middle of dat water, up to hyar, waist high, and dar was my +dog, old Cuba, done treed a 'possum.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De fust thing I 'members 'bout slave'y time, I wan't nothing but a boy, +'bout fifteen I reckon, dat's what Marse Johnnie Horn say. Us belong to +Marse Ike Horn, Marse Johnnie's pa, right here on dis place whar us is +now, but dis here didn't belong to me den, dis here was all Marse Ike's +place. Marse Ike's gin got outer fix and we couldn't get it fixed. +Colonel Lee had two gins and one of 'em was jes' below old Turner house. +Recolleck a big old hickory tree? Well dar's whar it was.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was plenty big 'nough to drive de mules to de gin. Set on de lever +and drive 'em, jes lak a 'lasses mill, so dat night Marse Ike told us he +want everybody go wid him to Colonel Lee's gin nex' morning, and didn't +want nobody to git out and go ahead of him. Dat held up de ginning; made +us not go to de ginhouse tell sunup.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us got de mules and jes' waited. 'Twixt daylight and sunup, us all +standing dar at de gate and we heared a little fine horn up de road. Us +didn't know what it meant coming to de house. And bimeby Mr. Beesley, +what live not fur from Marse Ike, he rode up and had five dogs, five +nigger dogs, what dey call 'em, and soon as he come, Marse Ike's hoss +was saddled up and Marse Ike and him rode off down de road and de dogs +wid em, 'head of us. Us followed 'long behind 'em, stay close as dey +'low us, to see what dey was up to. When dey got close to de ginhouse, +ginhouse right 'side de road, dey stop us and Mr. Beesley told old Brown +to go ahead. Old Brown was de lead dog and had a bell on him and dey was +fasten togedder wid a rod, jes' lak steers. He turn 'em loose, and den +he popped de whip and hollered at old Brown and told him 'nigger'. Old +Brown hollered lak he hit. He want to go. And dey was a fence on bofe +sides made it a lane, so he put old Brown over de fence on de ginhouse +side, and told Brown to 'go ahead'. He went ahead and run all aroun' de +ginhouse and dey let him in de gin-room and he grabbled in de cottonseed +in a hole.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den somebody holler 'Guinea Jim', I looks and I didn't see him. Didn't +nobody see him, but dey know dat's whar he been hiding. Mr. Beesley +told old Brown he jes' fooling him, and Old Brown holler ag'in, lak he +killing him, and Mr. Beesley say: 'Go git dat nigger' and old Brown +started 'way from dar lak he hadn't been hunting nothing, but he went +aroun' and aroun' dat gin and Mr. Beesley told him he hatter do better +dan dat or he'd kill him, 'cause he hadn't come dar for nothing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Brown made a circle aroun' dat gin 'way down to de fence dat time, and +he was so fat he couldn't git through de fence. You know what sort of +fence, a rail fence it was. Den he stop and bark for help. Now I seed +dis wid my own eyes. Dey put Brown on top de fence and he jump way out +in de road, didn't stay on de fence. He jump and run up and down in de +road, and couldn't find no scent of Jim. You knows how dey used to make +dem rail fences?</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Brown come back dar, and dis is de trufe, so help me Gawd. He +bark, look lak, for dem to lift him back up on de fence, and bless God, +if dat dog didn't walk dat rail fence lak he walking a log, as fur as +from here to dat gate yonder, and track Jim jes' lak he was on de +groun'. He fell off once, and dey had to put him back, and he run his +track right on to whar Jim jumped off de fence way out in de road. Old +Brown run right cross de road to de other fence and treed ag'in on +t'other side de road toward Konkabia. Old Brown walk de fence on dat +side de road a good piece, jes' lak he done on de other side, and dem +other dogs, he hadn't never turned dem loose.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Brown he jump off dat fence, he jump jes' as fur as he kin on de +fiel' side, lak he gwine ketch Jim lak a gnat or somepin' and he never +stop barking no more, jes' lak he jumping a rabbit. Den, Mr. Beesley +turn dem other dogs loose dat he hadn't never turned loose, 'ca'se he +say old Brown done got de thing straight. And he had it straight. Dem +dogs run dat track right on down to Konkabia and crossed it to de +Blacksher side. Dey was a big old straw field dar den and dey cross it +and come on through dat field, all dem dogs barkin' jes' lak dey looking +at Jim. 'Reckley, dey come up on Jim running wid a pine brush tied +behind him to drag his scent away, but it didn't bother old Brown.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dem dogs 'gin to push him, Jim drap de brush and runned back +toward Konkabia. Now on Konkabia dere used to be beavers worse den on +Sucarnatchee now. Dey was a big beaver dam 'twixt de bridge and de Hale +place, and Jim run to dat beaver dam. You know when beavers build dey +dam, dey cut down trees and let 'em fall in de creek, and pull in trash +en brush same as folks, to dam de water up dar tell its knee-deep. De +dogs seen him, old Brown looking at him, jes' 'fore he jump in 'bove de +dam right 'mongst de trash and things dey'd drug in dar. Brown seed him +and he jump in right behind him. Jim jes' dive down under de raff, en +let he nose stick outer de water. Every once in a while Jim he put he +head down under, he holding to a pole down dar, and once Mr. Beesley +seed him, he jes' let him stay dar.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Brown would swim 'bout 'mongst de brush, backerds and for'erds, and +terreckly Mr. Beesley tole old Brown, 'Go git him.' Den all de men got +poles and dug 'bout in de raff hunting him. Dey knowed he was dar, en +Marse Ike had a pole giggen aroun' trying to find him too. Den he told +Mr. Beesley to give him de hatchet and let him fix he pole. He sharpen +de pole right sharp, den Marse Ike start to jug aroun' wid de pole, and +he kinder laugh to hisse'f, 'ca'se he knowed he done found Jim. 'Bout +dat time Jim poke he head up and say: 'Dis here me', and everybody +holler. Den he ax 'em please, for God's sake, don't let dem dogs git +him. Dey told him come on out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You see, Jim belonged to Miss Mary Lee, Mr. John Lee's Ma, and his Pa +was kilt in de war, so Mr. Beesley was looking out for her. Well, dey +took Jim outer dar, and Mr. Beesley whipped him a little and told him: +'Jim, you put up a pretty good fight and I's gwine to give you a start +for a run wid de dogs.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Jim took out towards Miss Mary's, and Mr. Beesley helt old Brown as +long as he could. Dey caught Jim and bit him right smart. You see dey +had to let em bite him a little to satisfy de dogs. Jim could have made +it, 'cept he was all hot and wore out.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat's 'bout all I knows, 'cept us belonged to Marse Ike Horn, and fust +us belonged to Mr. Price Williams, what run de hotel in Livingston. He +took my gran'ma to Mobile, den he died. Us Ma belonged to dey two +chillun, Miss Nancy Gulley, Mr. Jake's wife, en Miss Burt Blakeney. +Marse Ike Horn was dey uncle, and us all come 'round to him, and us been +here ever since. My mammy was Ann Campbell, and my pappy was John Horn, +and us ain't never had no trouble wid nobody 'bout nothing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We's having a barbecue on de fo'th of July and us wants you to come +down to it, if Alice gits along well, and I's gwine tell you 'bout Rod +and Big John, and John Graverson when dey runned away and about how old +man Jim Devers, Alice's step-pa, hid em in de cave under he house whar +dey had as nice hams as I ever et, co'se a little tainted, but sho was +good. Dem niggers was fat as beavers, jes' settin' dar eatin' dat meat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And 'bout de time Marse Ike slip up on a heap of niggers at a frolic +'twixt Sumterville and Livingston and put a end to de frolic. De niggers +having a big dance, and Marse Ike and de patterrollers having a big run, +said dey wanted to have some fun, and dey did. Said he eased up on 'em +wid a white sheet 'round him and a big brush in he hand, and somehow or +'nother, dey didn't see him tell he spoke. Den he holler 'By God, I'm +bird-blinding,' and he say dem niggers tore down dem dirt chimleys and +run t'rough dat house. He say he ain't never heerd sich a fuss in a corn +field in his born days. What he mean 'bout bird-blindin'? When you goes +in de canebrake it so thick, you takes a light to shine de bird's eyes +and blind 'em, den you kin ketch 'em. Dat what he call bird-blindin'. +Yassum, Marse Ike in dat too. He couldn't stand for 'em to have no fun +'thout he in it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Come back on de fo'th of July, and I's gwine tell you some sho-nuff +tales. You sort of caught me when my min' wa'n't zackly on it. I ain't +had no sleep, jes' settin' 'side de bed by Alice, ketching a nod now and +den. I's too sleepy to sing you no song, but one I laks is dis: It suits +me now in my age:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">My lates' sun is sinking fas'</div> +<div class="line">My race in nearly run,</div> +<div class="line">My strongs' trial now is pas',</div> +<div class="line">My triump' jes' begun.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"You come back and I'll sing de res', I's got to see 'bout things +now."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="emma-l-howard"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id125">Emma L. Howard</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Emma L. Howard</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Margaret Fowler, Fruithurst, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">IS MASSA GWIN'ER SELL US?</em></p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">"Mammy, is Ol' Massa gwin'er sell us tomorrow?</div> +<div class="line">Yes, my chile.</div> +<div class="line">Whar he gwin'er sell us?</div> +<div class="line">'Way down South in Georgia."</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">'Aunt' Emma L. Howard sat in a huge, old-fashioned rocking chair at her +home, 170 Elmwood St., Montgomery, and sang the old slave song. When she +had finished, her memory recalled the time, years ago, when she was a +slave on the plantation of William and Georgiana Shepherd in Lowndes +County, between Mac's Switch and Morgansville.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat was one of de saddest songs we sung endurin' slavery days," she +mused. "It always did make me cry."</p> +<p class="pnext">She thought a moment, smiled.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members I was de only light nigger in de fambly," she said proudly. +"I was brung up in de house wid de white chillun. Twice a week I went to +my mammy's cabin an' took a bath. I had my own sof' shoes an' my own +nightgown an' jacket an' played games wid my massa's chilluns."</p> +<p class="pnext">She explained her duties about the Big House as sweeping the rambling +porches and yards. Sometimes she churned. Afterward she would join the +white children and played most of the day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We played hot-scotch, ring-'roun'-the-rosy an' lots of yuther things I +can't 'member," she explained. "I musta been 'bout seven years old den."</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma says she is 84 or 85, but she looks older. She remembers very +little about her brothers and sisters. She can only recall "Sist' +Cellie, Sist' Harriett an' Sist' Liza." Liza helped Aunt Evalina in the +kitchen.</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma lifted her eyes toward the ceiling, endeavoring to recall the +exact number of servants her master owned.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Edie was de laundress," she recalled, "an' Arrie, she was de weaver. +Den dere was Becky, Melia, Aunt Mary, Ed, John, and Uncle George the +house man, who married Aunt Evalina. Jake was de over-looker (overseer). +He was a great, big cullud man. Dar was more, but I can't 'member. I was +jes' a little shaver den."</p> +<p class="pnext">She remembers that the Big House was huge and white with a beautiful +parlor and guest room, where the visitors were entertained. Gigantic +white columns rose in front of the house, and clusters of magnolias +surrounded it. The slave houses were located about two hundred yards +back of the house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa Shepherd an' Mistis Georgiana was both good an' treated de +servants kin'," Emma said. "I 'members dat I used to keep de flies offen +Mistis Georgiana wid a big fan, an' once I went to sleep. She jest laugh +when she foun' me sleepin' dar beside her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa would only whup a slave fer two things," she recalled. "One thing +was if things warn't done up jes' right at hog killin' time, and de +other was iffen a nigger warn't clean when he 'ported for work on Monday +mornin's. Ol' Massa didn't do de whuppin's hisse'f. Jake did it, but +Massa sat dar on his horse to see dat only a certain number of licks was +give.</p> +<p class="pnext">"How did we feel 'bout a white man who would be over-looker? We called +him 'po white trash.' He wasn't thought much of by anybody."</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma said that everyone went to church on Sundays and that she liked to +sing the old religious hymns. When freedom came all the Shepherd +servants had been taught to read and write, she said, and each family +had enough money to buy a little home. "De Marster" would make each +family keep pigs, hens and such; then he would market the products and +place the money aside for them, Emma explained.</p> +<p class="pnext">Talking further about work about the plantation, she said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Louisa cleaned de parlor an' kept Mistis' room nice." She took up a +recital of work on the plantation. "Atter dat she didn't do anything but +sew, an' Sist' Liza hoped her wid dat. After de weavin', we done sewin', +and it took a lot of sewin' for dat family. Eve'body had two Sunday +dresses, summer and winter, as well as clothes for eve'day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"For de men's suits de wool had to be took off an' carded an' got ready +to make. But we had plenty of wool from our own sheep.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dey kilt de hogs for winter meat, dey took some of de hands out of +de field an' let dem ho'p. We had a smokehouse full of hams and +middlin's, an' when rainy spells came, us chillun would rake up chips +an' leaves an' make a smudge of smoke to keep de meat sweet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa Shepherd and Miss Georgiana was both mighty kin' hearted an' +treated their servants good. Once when Marse Shepherd sent us chilluns +down to de station wid a note, he say, 'Now, go fas'.' But we played +'long the way an' picked flowers. When we come steppin' back, he say, 'I +told you to hurry.' I held out de flowers an' say, 'See, us brung you +some flowers;' but he take up a little switch an' nettle my legs good.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa always give us plenty of eve'thing. On Friday us worked an' +washed, an' on Sattidy us cleaned for Sunday. Den on Sunday Massa would +go 'roun' an' have a mouthful at every house to see dat eve'thing was +done up jes' right, an' if they wasn't, somebody got a whuppin' next +day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us went to church on Sunday, Massa Shepherd, Miss Georgiana an' us +three chilluns rode in de rock-a-way. Dat was a carriage shaped mos' +like a bowl. De carriage was pulled by two big horses, an' de coachman +what sat up on de high seat had on a long double-breasted coat, shiny +black boots an' a tall silk hat. Massa had on a silk hat, too, but he +wore a tight-waisted coat. An' Miss Georgiana, she look lak a bokay.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-108"> +<span id="id34"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Emma L. Howard" src="images/image217howard.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Emma L. Howard, Montgomery, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"She didn't lak to wear hoops, because she had sprained her ankle once +an' walked wid a limp. She liked to wear thin, cool, flowery dresses wid +lots of ruffles an' lace. She also wore a scoop of white straw, mighty +sof' over de years' an' flarin' high an' spreadin' over de face. It was +filled wid flowers an' tied wid long streamers of ribbon."</p> +<p class="pnext">Emma said that Mr. Shepherd died during the second year of the war, and +that it was whispered he was poisoned because he was so good to his +niggers. "Just before the war closed," she said, "Mrs. Shepherd married +again and later moved to Texas.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was took on as a cook by a rich family named Marchiel, in +Montgomery," she said. "Dey treated me lak I was deir own daughter. I +was 'lowed to go out three nights a week, but no more, an' I had to be +home by 'leven o'clock.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I got engaged to be married an' de boy had to ax for me. I 'member dat +Massa Marchiel say: 'If you don't take good care of her I'll take her +back.' When de younges' daughter married she lef' me her veil an' +wreath, an' dey give me a weddin' dress an' shoes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My husban' was a carpenter, an' we lived in dis house. When he died, I +went to work for a family dat once was de richest family in de State. +Dey comes to see me every few days, an' nex' week dey are comin' for me +to spen' de day wid dem. De reason I has stayed so well is dat folks has +always been so good to me."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="everett-ingram"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id126">Everett Ingram</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Everett Ingram</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">MY GRANDMA RAISED PLENTY CHILLUNS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Everett Ingram mused: "Honey chile, my gran'mammy was de beatenest +woman to have chilluns dat you ever seen. I has hyared dat she raised so +many of dem dat she brung a mighty heap on de block; somewhere near a +thousan' dollars."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Everett is a familiar figure in East Opelika, where he has lived +for years. He was "a right good-sized scamp at freedom time" and +remembers much of what he has seen and heard. He was born in Russell +County, the son of Prince and Fanny Ingram. They had seven other +children; Jerry, Clara, Rubin, Jep, Lula, Eugene and Lucy.</p> +<p class="pnext">Everett says of his life:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our house in de slave settlement was made of logs an' had one room. It +had a mud an' stick chimney, a plank floor an' a boxed-up bed wid one +leg at de foot. De mattress was stuffed wid shucks an' straw.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My gran'pappy, Prince Walden, an' Lucy, his wife, come from Russell +County, too, an' belonged to de Covingtons. Later dey was sold to Dr. +Walden, at Uchie. When dey come to Uchie de county was full of Indians. +My gran'pappy useta drink likker wid 'em; but gran'ma, she was skeered +an' runned away to Columbus, Georgy. On her way dere, my mammy was +borned in de woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat when I was a strip of a boy, dey cooked ash-cake on +leaves an' de chilluns et pot-licker an' bread an' greens outen wooden +trays wid wooden spoons. Dey would sit under de trees an' eat. Each +family had dey own bowl, an' us et a-plenty, too. In cold weather mammy +kept all de chilluns in de house by de fire.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Master had us a two-room house, 'ca'se my mammy was de cook an' weaver. +Dey made dey own silk den, too, an' raised de silk worms. Us useta get +mulberry leaves to feed de silk worms wid. Us used indigo, which us +cooked an' used for dye. Us would wear any kind of clothes on everyday +an' Sunday; an' didn't have no shoes 'til us was big chilluns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster an' Ol' Mistus, Mr. Bill an' Miss Lucy Ingram, lived in a +big weather-boarded house wid a wide hall an' a chimney at each end. De +kitchen was off from de rest of de house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat de overseer useta whip mammy an' pappy, 'ca'se dey fight +so much. He useta take my mammy to de carriage to whip her. Marster was +in de war den. When he come home, de overseer tuk mammy by de han' to de +house an' tell Marster 'bout havin' to whip her. He'd jest shake his +head, sad-lak. He was mighty good to all of us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My gran'pappy was put in de speculator drove, put on de block an' sold.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat Mistus read de Bible to us an' my mammy was converted by +de white preacher. He baptized her. De colored folks used de white +church an' set in de back.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' honey, dey shorely did have good times dancin' on Sattidy nights; +an' sometimes dey would dance 'till Sunday mornin'. When de corn needed +shuckln', it was hauled up near de crib, an' on a purty moonlighted +night Marster would pass 'roun' de likker. It wouldn't be long 'til dey +was all happy an' had what dey called a general. De general led all de +hollers an' songs. Dey shorely did get dat corn shucked fast, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Gran'mammy was a great doctor; useta give us turpentine an' castor oil +an' Jerusalem oak fer worms. She'd give us all kinds of teas, too. I +'members dat gran'mammy was also a midwife.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-109"> +<span id="id35"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Everett Ingram" src="images/image221ingram.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Everett Ingram, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"De Yankees comed through de yard in May an' tol' us: 'You's free.' De +Yankees wasn't so good. Dey hung my mammy up in de smokehouse by her +thumbs; tips of her toes jest touchin' de floor, 'ca'se she wouldn't +'gree to give up her older chilluns. She never did, neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Daddy stole both de older chilluns, dough, an' went off. De Yankees +stole provisions an' stock an' hauled 'em off. De news got to Uchie an' +everybody hid out; Marster wid 'em. Dey hunted de money whut was hid in +de colored folks beds; nearly $2,000. De jewelry was dere, too. Dey +foun' some money at de big house an' said: 'Dis money ain't worth a +damn;' but dey tuk it jest de same.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Hattie Graves. Den I j'ined de church an' was +saved."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="hannah-irwin"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id127">Hannah Irwin</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Hannah Irwin</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, [HW: Eufaula?]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">KU KLUX RIDES WHEN DE NIGGERS STARTS TROUBLE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">On a high knoll overlooking the winding Chewalla Creek is a little one +room shack. Its rusty hinges and weather-beaten boards have seen many a +glowing sunset; have stood against many high winds and rains; they have +for many years sheltered Aunt Hannah Irwin, ex-slave. Now the old Negro +woman is too old and feeble to venture very often from her small home. +She lives almost in solitude with her memories of the past, and an +occasional visit from one of her old friends who perhaps brings her some +fruit or a little money.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas'm, I'll be pleased to tell you 'bout whut I remembers aroun' de +time of de War." Aunt Hannah sat stolidly in a chair that virtually +groaned under her weight; and gave utterance to this sentiment through a +large thick mouth, while her gold ear rings shook with every turn of her +head, and her dim eyes glowed with memory's fires. "Dere ain't much I +can tell you, dough," she went on, "kaze I was only twelve years old +when de war ended.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was bawn on Marse Bennett's plantation near Louisville, Alabama. Ma +Mammy's name was Hester an' my pappy was named Sam.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remembers one night raght atter de war when de re'struction was +a-goin' on. Dere was some niggers not far fum our place dat said dey was +agoin' to take some lan' dat warn't deres. Dere massa had been kilt in +de war an' warn't nobody 'ceptin' de mistis an' some chilluns. Well, +Honey, dem niggers, mo' dan one hundred of 'em, commenced a riot an' was +a-takin' things dat don't belong to 'em. Dat night de white lady she +come ober to our place wid a wild look on her face. She tell Massa +Bennett, whut dem niggers is up to, an' widout sayin' a word, Massa +Bennett putt his hat on an lef' out de do'. Twarn't long atter dat when +some hosses was heered down de road, an' I look out my cabin window +which was raght by de road, an' I saw acomin' up through de trees a +whole pack of ghosties; I thought dey was, anyways. Dey was all dressed +in white, an' dere hosses was white an' dey galloped faster dan de win' +raght past my cabin. Den I heered a nigger say: 'De Ku Klux is atter +somebody.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dem Ku Klux went ober to dat lady's plantation an' told dem niggers dat +iffen dey ever heered of 'em startin' anything mo' dat dey was a-goin' +to tie 'em all to trees in de fores' till dey all died f'um being +hongry. Atter dat dese niggers all 'roun' Louisville, dey kept mighty +quiet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No m'am, I don't believe in no conjurin'. Dese conjure women say dat +dey will make my hip well iffen I gives 'em half my rations I gits fum +de gover'ment, but I knows dey ain't nothin' but low-down, no-count +niggers."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Speaking of the Ku Klux, Aunt Hannah. Were you afraid of them?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Naw'm, I warn't afeered of no Ku Klux. At fu'st I though dat dey was +ghosties and den I was afeered of 'em, but atter I found out dat Massa +Bennett was one of dem things, I was always proud of 'em."</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-110"> +<span id="id36"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Hannah Irwin" src="images/image224irwin.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Hannah Irwin, [TR: Eufaula?], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Well, what about the Yankees?" she was asked. "Did you ever see any +Yankees; and what did you think of the ones that came through your +place? Were you glad that they set you free?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"I suppose dem Yankees was all right in dere place," she continued, "but +dey neber belong in de South. Why, Miss, one of 'em axe me what was dem +white flowers in de fiel'? You'd think dat a gent'men wid all dem +decorations on hisself woulda knowed a fiel' of cotton. An' as for dey +a-settin' me free! Miss, us niggers on de Bennett place was free as soon +as we was bawn. I always been free."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="martha-jackson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id128">Martha Jackson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Martha Jackson</strong></div> +<div class="line"><em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HEAPS OF DEM YALLER GALS GOT SONT NORF</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"When de War fus' started," said Martha Jackson, who was born in 1850, +"dey wouldn't let none of de cullud people go to chu'ch 'thout dey had a +pass, and mighty few white folkses would give 'em a pass. Dere was a +heap of men (hit mou't have been six or twelve, my recollection is +short, but anyhow 'twas jus' a big crowd) whut went back'erds en +ferwerds jes' lack sher'fs and de calls de'se'fs de 'Patterrollers.' Ef +de white folks give de niggers a pass, den dey could go, and ef dey was +to go'thout one, dem Patterrollers would have 'em a-runnin' thoo de +woods jes' lack dey was a lot of deer, an ef dey ever cotch 'em, dey'd +take 'em to dey Marster and he'd jes' natchelly wear 'em out!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den dey didn't 'low 'em for to go nowhurs much, eben when de plantation +j'ined one ernudder did, dey'd ketch 'em over dere and fetch 'em back +and dey'd git whooped ag'in, and dat's 'zackly how come a heap uv 'em +run'd away. I knowed a nigger onc't whut was gone nigh 'bout a year, and +he wa'n't gone nowhur but right up de big road a piece, livin' in a cave +whut he dug outer de side uv a clay bank. And Miss Betty say, 'Marthy, +whur you reckon Dan at?' And I never said nothin'. De Patterrollers +couldn't fine him or nobody, and he ain't never showed hisse'f in +daylight 'tel he peered up atter de S'render.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And I knowed a woman name Tishie, Miss Mollie's house sarvant. She run +away 'case dey so mean to her, I reckon, and de cullud folks harbored +her and hid her up in de grain house wid de peas and sech lac', stedder +down in de corn crib. And who ever 'twas 'trayed her I ain't sayin' but +a crowd uv dem Patterrollers come and got 'er one night, and tuck her +away, and I ain't nebber seed Tishie no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"And one uv Ole Marsa's niggers—'little boy' he go by—he tuck on +might'ly, 'case dey say he wanted to marry Tishie. I know he fotch her +up in de quarter fer ter git her sumpin' to eat atter de white folks +done sleep. But couldn't nobody marry, 'twa'n't 'lowed, 'outer one or +t'other uv de Ole Marsa 'greed to buy bofe uv 'em and ef dey didn't +'gree you sho' better keep 'way fum dey place. And Ole Marsa and Miss +Mollie didn't nebber 'gree.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I hear some uv 'em say one dem Patterrollers had 'bout three sets er +cullud chillun over dere, and some uv 'em favor'd Tishie, and ev'y time +hit come time fer 'em yaller gals ter work in de fiel', dey got sarnt +Norf. I reckon 'case he never wanted see his own blood git beat up, and +dat Jim Barton was er cru'l overseer, sho's yer bawn.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Twas a heap of dem yaller gals got sarnt Norf frum 'roun' here sho' +was."</p> +<p class="pnext">Martha says most of the meaness of pre-war days on the plantations may +be charged up to cruel overseers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Marsa's wife's sister had a husband whut kep' de meanest overseer +durin' de war dat I ever is seed," she declares. "Dat man would make 'em +niggers on de plantation plow up a gre't big fiel' big as all over +yonder and den check hit fer corn. And checkin' corn in runnin' a +straight row clean 'cross de fiel' bofe ways, and hit make a check 'bout +two feet square. Den he'd make de niggers drap a grain uv corn right in +de middle uv ev'y check, and ef hit didn't come up straight as deese +here fingers on my han', he'd snatch hit up and make 'em eat hit right +den and dere, stalk and all 'thout ever bilin' hit a anything. And +that'll mighty ne'r th'ow you in de middle uv a spell uv sickness sho's +yo' bawn.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But dat didn't make no diffe'ns to dat man. And stidder dat, he'd nigh +'bout beat 'em ter deaf ef dey 'sputed his word 'bout hit, but den dey +didn't 'spute, 'case dey was so skeered when dey drappin' hit dat hit +ain't gwinter come up straight lack he say, dat dey couldn't drap hit +good as dey could uv drapped hit. 'Case dey so skeered dey couldn't.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dem niggers jes' natchelly shuck lack dey havin' de black ague chill +soon as dey heered him a-comin'. And when de Patterroles tole him de +niggers was a-risin', 'case dey foun' papers 'bout in de cabins, he nigh +'bout kilt 'em. Some of dem niggers run 'way down in de woods lack deers +and clam' up in de trees, 'case he sot dogs on 'em and some uv 'em +stayed in a cave in de clay bank and tuck to comin' up to us house +nights after vittles. And dat overseer man would send 'em Patterrollers +jes' lack dey was de sher'f down to fotch 'em back, and he'd say, 'Dead +or alive, doan' make no diffe'nce.' And sometimes dem dogs be done nigh +'bout chewed dem niggers up. Den he'd whoop 'em sho' 'nuff.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Twas a long and a wide stiff leather strop w'at he had whut hung back +uv his do', and hit had big roun' holes in hit, and he'd git him a pot +of warm salty water and set hit down by his side. Den he had 'em cotch +de nigger and put his feet in de long block, and somebody helt dey +han's, and he strip 'em stark naked, and he stretch 'em 'cross a log, +and he dip de long stiff leather strop wid de roun' holes in hit in de +briny salt water, and den look out 'case he comin' down on dat po' +nigger's nekkid bottom. De holes in de strop dey sucks flesh up in th'oo +'em, and de nigger's a hollerin' and ev'ybody so skeered dey right ashy, +and dey can't nobody say a mumblin' word 'case dey so skeered.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-111"> +<span id="id37"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Martha Jackson" src="images/image226jackson.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Martha Jackson, [TR: Livingston?], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Lawdy, Lawdy, dem was tribbolashuns! Wunner dese here 'omans was my +Antie and she say dat she skacely call to min' he e'r whoopin' her, +'case she was a breeder woman, and brought in chillun ev'y twelve mont's +jes' lack a cow bringin' in a calf. And she say, dat whut make her mo' +val'ble to her Ole Marster. He orders she can't be put to no strain +'casen uv dat. And she say she give him praise on his gretty grave fer +dat. But dem others he worked 'em day en night, Sad'dy en Sunday too +you'se sho' ter hear dem women uv er night battin' de clo'es on er log +in creek wid de stick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But fo' long dat man tuck rale sick, en he b'lieved in conjurashun but +spite everything he done he got worser en worser and fo' long he died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"So dey sarnt down in de woods and all over de plantation er lookin' fer +de niggers to come to de Big House 'case dey overseer was dead. And here +dey comes a-shoutin' and a-clappin' dey han's and a-holl'rin' sumpin' +awful.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Ole John Bell is de'd en gone</div> +<div class="line">I hopes he's gone to hell!</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"En dat was de onles' time I's ever seen dem niggers happy on dat +plantation 'tel atter s'render."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="jane"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id129">Jane</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Jane</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mildred Scott Taylor, Georgiana, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DID THEY OWN US OR WE OWN THEM?</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas, chillun, I 'members de wah; 'caze I was here when de Yankees come +t'rough an' I was about fourteen year ole. Ole Marster he went off to de +wah wid a whole passel of sojers, en' he been gone a long time, en' +nobody to home to look atter de plantation, 'cep Ole Mistis en' Unker +Jude, what was Ole Marster's fust slave he ebber owned. Ole Marster en' +Unker Jude was borned de same day, en' Ole Marster's pappy gin Unker +Jude to him, whenst dey was leetle bitsy babies. When Ole Marster mai'ed +Ole Mistis, dey was young folks, en' dey move to his own plantation. He +tuk Unker Jude wid him, en' Unker Jude was de ca'i'ge driver. When Ole +Marster went off ter de wah, he tole Unker Jude ter look atter Ole +Mistis en' evy'ting on de place 'twell he come back. Whilst Ole Marster +gone to de wah, Unker Jude was oberseer for Ole Mistis, en' he made de +niggers wuk harder dan Ole Marster did, to make co'n, en' oats, en' +fodder, en' meat fer de sojers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Mistis made de womens card bats, en' spin en' weabe on de loom. +What er loom look lak? It look lak er loom, dat what it look lak; what +you spec' it look lak? All de womens, white en' black, wuk hard makin' +jeans fer de sojers clo's en' makin' linsey fer de women's clo's. Us +didn't hab no udder clo's 'cep dem linsey, but dey sho was good uns en' +las' er long time, iffen yer didn't stan' too close ter de fire en' +scorch 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us kep' hearin' of de Yankees comin', en' one mawnin' Ole Mistis she +say: 'Jane, you go down ter de front gate en' stay dar en' watch en' see +iffen de Yankees comin' down de big road, en' when you sees 'em, you run +tell me quick.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Bimeby, I seed de Yankees comin' about a mile down de road, en' I run +tell Ole Mistis, en' she call de womens en' dey run down t'rough de +orchard to de big woods, en' I run tell Unker Jude en' he onhitch de +mules en' lead 'em down ter de big gully behin' de fiel'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Mistis tole me to run back to de house, quick, fo' de Yankees get +dar, en' git her gole watch en' chain outen de bureau drawer; but de +Yankees come in whilst I was gitten de watch en' chain, en' one ob 'em +grabbed it outen by han' en' put it in his pocket en' tole anudder +Yankee: 'I'se gwine tek dis home ter my gal.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"De house en' de yard was plum full of Yankees en' dey rid dey hosses +en' tore up ev'yting, lookin' for money en' jewelry. Dey ax me whar it +was hid, en' I tole em' I didn't know en' dey said I was lyin', en' +iffen I didn't tell 'em, dey would kill me 'lak er dam Rebel', en' I sho +was skairt.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey et up all de sump'n' to eat in de kitchen en' tuk all de meat en' +meal outen de smokehouse en' didn't lef' us nuddin', en' dey went to de +crib en' tuk ev'y year co'n en' all de fodder en' put it in wagins en' +tuk 'em off.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Yankees ax me don't I wanner be free en' I say: 'No, suh', en' dey +say ev'body gwine be free an' I won't hab ter wuk fer Ole Marster no +mo'. Den dey ax me whar Ole Marster at, en' I say: 'He gone to wah', en' +dey ax me whar Ole Mistis, en' I say: 'I dunno whar she at; she done +gone off summuz.' Dey ax me whar de guns, en' I tole 'em us didn't hab +no guns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dem Yankees mighter been dar till yit, iffen one ob 'em hadn't rid his +hoss ober a bee gum en' Man! dem bees en' dem Yankees sho did mess up! +In about a minute dere wan't no Yankees nowhar 'cep down de big road +whar de dus' jes' foggin' up! 'Bout a week some mo' Yankees come, but +dey muster heared 'bout de bees, 'caze dey lef' dey hosses outside de +big gate en' walked up to de house, but dey didn't stay long 'caze dey +wan't nuffin' lef' atter de fu'st Yankees done to' up ev'ything. En' +when dey ready to go dey tuk dey guns en' stood way off en' shoot de bee +gums all to pieces, en' dey flewed aroun' en' us had to stay 'way 'twel +night. Unker Jude, he wuk all night long, makin' bee gums outen a hollow +log, en' nex' day he hive ebery one ob dem bees en' put 'em in de new +gums, en' de bees dey tote all dey honey en' put it in de new gums fas' +as dey could make comb fer it. Dem bees sho' was smart.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de wah done gone, Ole Marster he come, wid one he arms shot plum +off, en' Ole Mistis she cry, she so glad to see him en' Unker Jude he +cry en' hug Ole Marster, en' us all cry en' tek on, we so glad Ole +Marster come back en' so sorry he arm shot off. Ole Marster tell all de +niggers dey free now en' don't hatter wuk fer him no mo', en' some er de +young niggers went off atter de Yankees, en' neber did come back, but de +res' ob us jes' stayed right whar we is. Us had a mighty hard time for a +long time, but de white folks had de same hard time en' us didn't mek no +diffunce. I mai'ed Rufus en' us raise a big fambly right dar on Ole +Marster's plantation, en' outen us's twelve chilluns, ain't nary one +eber seen de inside ob de jailhouse. I raise my chilluns jes' lak Ole +Mistis raise her'n en' dat's de way to raise 'em, to wuk en' keep outen +debilment. Ole Marster dead en' gone en' Ole Mistis too, but I 'members +'em jes' lak dey was, when dey looked atter us whenst we belonged to 'em +or dey belonged ter us, I dunno which it was. De times was better fo' de +wah. Us had good things to eat en' plenty of it, en' we had good clo's +en' clean clo's fer Sunday. Dat's mo'n some triflin' niggers got now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I goes to church en' sings en' prays, en' when de good Lord teks me, +I'se ready to go, en' I specs to see Jesus en' Ole Mistis en' Ole +Marster when I gits to de He'benly Lan'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="hilliard-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id130">Hilliard Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Hilliard Johnson</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HOODOOIN' DE DOGS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Hilliard Johnson and his wife Callie live on the Johnson place +about three and a half miles from Livingston, Ala., the same place +Hilliard was brought as an infant of two in slavery days. He and Callie +tend their own little patch of ground and they own a mule. White friends +patch up the gaps in their financial structure and everybody knows them. +Uncle Hilliard pulled up his mule in front of my house and climbed down +from the high seat, leaving Callie sitting placidly in the sun.</p> +<p class="pnext">He came around to the kitchen door and announced that he was here, +"'ca'se he got de word I wanted to ax him somepin."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Hilliard," I said, "I want to hear all about you and your family +and whom you belonged to in slavery time."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Miss Ruby, iffen you is knowed me all dese years and still don' +know who I'm is, and my family is, and who us belonged to, dey ain't no +use of me stoppin' now to tell you. 'Sides, I's sick, I's been to de +horspital in York, Dr. Hills', and he wants to operate. I's skeered of +de knife and ain't got no money neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I can't eat nothin' but tomato soup. Dem sho' is nice ones +you got dere on de she'f, and oyster soup and rice soup and all lac +dat. Can't eat no rough vittles lac collards. I ain't gittin' on +well atall, but I'll 'blige you a while. I was thinkin' other day +'bout you and dem ole sperichel hymns I leads out to Mount Pilgrim. +You's got 'Oh Lord, I'm a Waitin' on You', ain't you? I knowed you +had dat 'bout 'And I Can't Do Nothin' Until You Comes. Sho Can't.' +Well, here's one you ain't got, 'ca'se hit's a really old sperichel +my gran'maw use to sing. I's sorter hoarse today, but hit go:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Jes' carry me and bury me</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I'll rise at de comin' day.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Jes' carry me and bury me,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I'll rise at de comin' day.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Now dat's jes' de chorus and de verse say:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">When I was in my worldly ways</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Nobody had nothin' to say.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Now I'm ridin' de pale white hoss</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Ev'ybody got something to say."</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Den de chorus ag'in, and hit's a pretty one sho's you bawn."</p> +<p class="pnext">I mentioned the figure of speech "pale white hoss", but he "didn't know +nothin' 'bout no figures!"</p> +<p class="pnext">"And another one, dey is so many, let me see. Here one but I jes' can't +call to mine a heap of verses:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Trouble here and dey's trouble dere,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I really do believe dere's trouble ev'ywhere.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home."</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Den hit goes on and tell 'bout de moaner, says:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Oh, dey's a moaner here, dey's a moaner dere,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I really do b'lieve dey's a moaner ev'ywhere.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">Oh dey's a sinner here, dey's a sinner dere,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I really do b'lieve dey's a sinner ev'ywhere.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">Oh, dey's a Christun here, dey's a Christun dere</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I really do b'lieve dey's a Christun ev'ywhere</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Swing low, chariot, I'm gwine home.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Den dey's a heap of 'em to dat song lac a "deacon" and a "member" and a +"prayer" and a "singer", jes' a whole passel dem verses, but I reckon +dem will do today.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now what else you want, 'ca'se dem mules is tired and I is too. 'Sides +I got to see a man and Callie in de waggin and she's hot too. You knows +Callie, she my wife, my second wife, and us got twelve chillun in all, +growed and married. Us still live on de Johnson place three and a half +miles from Livingston right han' side de ole Boyd road west from town. +Us belonged to Miss Ella Johnson, she was us young Mistis, and Mr. Nep +Johnson, dat's de onliest ones I ever knowed. My mammy, Frances +Johnson, and my pappy, Alf Johnson, come from down 'bout Cubie Station. +Young Mist'iss bought 'em I reckon and my gran'maw, Rachel Johnson. Fus' +thing I knowed, us was livin' on Johnson place. Dey was good to us, +'bout seventy-five of us all together, I reckon. All I 'members, dey +looped de bridle rein over my feet an' let de mule drag me all over de +orchard. It hurt my head. And dey beat some of 'em up scan'lous, but dey +was pretty good to me, I reckon. See, I wa'n't so ole, jes' a young boy +in slavery time, but I recall young Massa told Tom, a young nigger dere, +one time not to go to de frolic.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Clean up dem dishes and go ter bed,' he say. And Tom said 'Yassuh' but +Marse Nep watch Tom th'oo de do' and atter while Tom slip out and away +he went, wid young Massa right 'hin' him. He got dere and foun' Tom +cuttin' groun' shuffle big as anybody. Young Massa called him, 'Tom,' he +say, 'Tom, didn't I tell you you couldn't come to dis frolic?' 'Yassuh,' +says Tom, 'You sho' did, and I jes' come to tell 'em I couldn't come!'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Young Massa didn't hurt Tom none, but I is seed 'em strip 'em plum +nekked and nigh 'bout kill 'em. I did see 'em kill old Collin, but dey +done dat wid a shot gun jes' 'ca'se dey couldn't control him. Did they +have nigger dogs, you say? Yassum, dey sho' did, but I'm tellin' you de +troof now some of de black folks knowed how to git away from dem nigger +dogs jes' lac dey wa'n't dere. Mr. Joe Patton, you know Mr. Joe Patton +don' you? Young Mr. Joe, I'm talkin' 'bout what's over here in town and +use to be de sher'ff. Well, in his day, he done seed a nigger hoodoo dem +dogs 'ca'se dey had nigger dogs after S'render too. I kin tell you what +I seed, but what dey done now, I doan' know, I couldn't tell you dat. +But hit was a fair day, fair as 'tis now, and dey sot de dogs on dat +nigger and 'fo' yer knowed hit dat nigger done lef' dere and had dem +dogs treein' a nekked tree. 'Twa'n't nobody dere. Dey calls hit +hoodooin' de dogs. And I'se seen hit more times than one. Time I tell +you 'bout, Mr. Patton was ag'in. 'Twas a feller right here in town. I +forgits his name but he was a tall nigger, married Dennis Coleman's +daughter. You 'members Dennis Coleman, had dat gal call Hettie? Well, he +married Hettie, and he whooped her up mightily. She 'ported on him to de +sheriff, and he went to git him. I can't think what dat nigger go by +now, but anyhow Mr. Patton couldn't ketch him and he sot de dogs on him +and dey couldn't ketch him. Dey knowed whichaway he went, down 'bout +Bear Creek on Miss Mamie Smith's place in de flatwoods. 'Twa'n't no +trouble to ketch nobody down dere, but dem dogs couldn't do hit, and +fus' thing you know he run back to Hattie's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now jes' give me a few tomatoes, Miss Ruby, and I mus' cut dis short. +Dey's a cloud comin' up over yonder by Peter's washpot and dat's when us +gits a rain. I got a fur piece to go for a old man. Yassum, I'se nigh +'bout seventy-nine years old and porely."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="randolph-johnson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id131">Randolph Johnson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Randolph Johnson</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Morgan Smith, [HW: Birmingham?]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">RANDOLPH AND THE LITTLE CRIPPLE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Randolph Johnson, age 84, although he admits he was "jes' a little +picaninny" when the War between the States began, still recalls with +vivid clarity the days of his childhood on the old plantation. Unlike +most of the former slaves, he never worked hard. His hours were too +filled with the joy of playing, for he belonged to a little crippled boy +about his own age and guarded over him all the time. At night the little +white master and his small black playmate slept in the same room; the +latter having a pallet that he spread on the floor. During the day both +little white and black played in the shade of the cedars on the grassy +lawn. The kindly white owner of the plantation was always good to +Randolph. Never a cross word was spoken to him, he says.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But one day," Randolph said, "de little massa took very sick. Dey +wouldn't even let me see him. I had a feelin' trouble was a comin', kaze +little massa neber did have no real life like other boys. He was always +a lookin' lak a sick puppy. I gues de Lawd jus' wanted him fo' hisself, +and he took him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Adder dat I was put to work on a mule dat turned de wheel of de cotton +gin. He jus' walk aroun' in circles lak de mule dat's pullin' a syrup +press. Den de War came, and all de good clothes dat we had made on de +loom turned to tatters. De food got low; some of de slaves run away and +some of our houses was burned by de Yankees. Atter de war, de massa came +back and told us niggers dat we waunt slaves no mo'. Said we could go, +but if we wanted to stay we could do dat too. He gib' each fambly dat +stayed a mule, a cow, some tools and money enough to run 'em till dey +could git de crop harvested. He was de best massa dat any nigger ever +had.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den I come to Bummin'ham. I worked on de railroad dey was puttin' +through. I was a big nigger and I could make de others step. I was about +six feet three inches and weighed near 200 pounds. I knowed my ole massa +would have been proud of me if he coulda seed me a-workin' on de +railroad and a liftn' dem ties and a sweatin' wid dem rails; I wished I +coulda been in his cotton field and a-heard him talkin' fair like instid +ob listenin' to dat foreman gibin' us de debil 'bout bein' lazy when we +was a workin' our selfs nearly to death. Den one day I saw de foreman +slap a nigger fo' drinkin' at de dipper too long. De nigger picked up a +shovel and slam him in de haid, and run. Back in de slabery days dey +didn't do somethin' and run. Dey run befo' dey did it, kaze dey knew dat +if dey struck a white man dere want goin' to be no nigger. In dem days +dey run to keep from doin' somethin'! Nowadays dey do it and den dey +runs."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="abraham-jones"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id132">Abraham Jones</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Abraham Jones</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">G.L. Clark</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THE PATRIARCH ABRAHAM SAW THE STARS FALL</em></p> +<p class="pnext">A lot of water passes under the bridge in 112 years. I thought of that +as I talked to Abraham Jones, 112-year-old ex-slave of Village Springs, +Alabama. "Uncle Abe" says he was born August 1, 1825, in Russell County, +Alabama. Perhaps the day, the month and the year may not be exactly +accurate. But they are near enough. He recalls the falling of the stars, +the removal of the Indians from Russell County and the settlement of +Auburn and other towns in that section. His great age is not apparent in +his looks, actions or natural faculties. His hair is thin and white, but +no more so than that of many men half his age, and his hearing is good. +The mellow voice so characteristic of his race, is strong. He stands as +straight as a soldier. And he works regularly to earn a living for his +family. When we found him he was laying a flagstone walk in hard clay +soil, and there was power in the swing of his pick and his tamping ax. +His regular daily chores include milking a cow and chopping wood.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-112"> +<span id="id38"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Abraham Jones" src="images/image239jones.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Abraham Jones, Village Springs, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">He describes the phenomenon of falling stars as an event that occurred +when he was "a little shaver 'bout eight year' old." November 13, 1833 +was the date.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, sir, I saw de stars fall. Some folks say dey didn't never fall but +I seen 'em. Dey fell jest like pitch from a torch, 'Z-z-z-z-zip, +z-z-z-z-zip!' and big cracks come in de ground. I was settin' on de end +of de porch, and I watched 'em. Dere was so many grown people crowdin' +into de house, 'twa'n't no use fer me to try to git in so I jest sot +still. We had a big sill under our house, more dan a foot thick, and so +many people crowded in de house till dere weight broke de sill. Dey was +cryin' and hollerin' but de stars didn't hurt nobody; dey jest fell and +went out, and I don't know where dey went den; maybe into dem cracks in +de ground. De cracks stayed a long time and it was dangerous for de +people to go about at night; dey might fall into de cracks. One of dem I +remember was two feet across and so deep dey couldn't find no bottom wid +a long pole. I reckon dem stars kept fallin' for about a hour. Folks +thought de end of time was comin' and ever'body got right after dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Back at dat time de country was not settled much and dere was lots of +Indians. My grandpappy was a full-blooded Indian but I don't know what +kind. De Indians was good people but if dey thought you had done 'em +wrong dey'd kill you right now. I saw some of dem when dey left dat +country. Dey women carried de babies in some sort of sacks, hung down in +front of 'em, and de men carried some of de bigger chillun on dey +shoulders. Dey didn't have no property—jest lived wild in de woods.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-113"> +<span id="abraham-jones-back-yard"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Abraham Jones' Back Yard" src="images/image239jonesyard.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Abraham Jones' Back Yard, Village Springs, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"A few years after de stars fell, a passel of people from de other side +of Columbus, Georgia, moved over and started de town of Auburn so dey +could have a place for a school.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Before de war my people took me up to Blount County, and when de war +come dey left me to run de grist-mill. I was de fust man in Alabama to +try to grind a bushel of oats. I ground 'em too. A lady brung de oats +and ast me could I grind 'em, and I told her I would try. She say dey +didn't had nothin' for de chillun to eat. I ground de oats, and told +her, 'Ole Mistis, I knows jest how 'tis and I'll be glad to give you a +peck of meal if you will use it.' She say, 'of course I will; jest put +it in with the oat meal, and I sure will appreciate it.' Her husband +was off to de war and she didn't had no way to feed de chillun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was workin' on de road a long time after de war and was tellin' de +men about dat when her son hear me. She had told him about it and so he +went home and told her he had found me. She sent word back for me to go +to her house and let her see if I shore 'nuff was de same man. So I went +and when she seen me she say, 'Yes, he is the same man,' and she called +her husband and de other chillun and told 'em about it. Her husband say, +'Well, dey is jest one thing we kin do. If he ever need a place to stay +or vittles to eat, we must see dat he gits dem.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"In slavery time I belong to Massa Frank Jones, and Timothy Jones was de +overseer on de place. Frank Jones had two plantations, de one whar I was +born and another one close to Columbus. People ax me sometimes what kind +of house I was born in and I tell 'em I wa'n't born in no house; and I +warn't, I was born in de middle of de big road.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-114"> +<span id="abraham-jones-house"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Abraham Jones' House" src="images/image239joneshouse.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Abraham Jones' House, Village Springs, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"It's gittin' to where it's mighty hard for me to go now and do de work +to make sompen for us to eat. I can't git about so fast and my head +bother me a lot. I been workin' a long time now, and you does git tired +after a hundred years of workin'!"</p> +<p class="pnext">On his wrists were circlets of heavy cord. I asked him why +they were there and he explained:</p> +<p class="pnext">"To keep de pain out. Dey keeps it out purty good but if you can git a +little leather band wid a buckle on it, dat is better yet. I wears dese +all de time."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="emma-jones"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id133">Emma Jones</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Emma Jones</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mrs.Preston Klein, Opelika</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">EMMA TELLS HOW TO MAKE THEM "TEETHE EASY"</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Emma Jones, eighty-three years old, was born in the Chattahoochee Valley +between West Point and Columbus Georgia. She is very alert though quite +deaf.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks," she began, "I belonged to Marse Wiley Jones and his wife, +Mistis Melba.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lived in a little two-room log cabin with high tester beds and +mattreses filled with cawn shucks. Our food den was away better dan de +stuff we eats today. It was cooked on a fireplace made outen rocks wid +big hooks fastened into de side to swing de pots aroun' on. Us cooked +hoe-cakes on a three-legged skillet dat sot ober hot coals an' us had a +big oven for to bake meat an' cawn bread in. Dere ain't nothin' lak it +nowdays, no'm.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Massa had a big garden an' we useta git de vega'bles we et f'um his +garden. De folks was plenty good to us. Sometimes de mens would hunt +'possums an' rabbits an' wild turkeys. We sho' loved dem 'possums +smothered in 'taters.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' talkin' 'bout medicines. Let me tell you a sho' 'nough cure for a +baby dat's havin' a hard time teethin'. Jus' putt a string of coppers +roun' he neck an' he won't have no trouble at all. Us useta do dat to de +little white chilluns an' de black uns too; 'specially in hot weather +when dey jus' seem to have de misery.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter us got to be big gals, us wo' cotton dresses an' drawses in hot +weather, an' when it git col' we had to wear long drawses an' homespun +wool dresses an' home-knitted socks and shoes dat de cobbler made in his +shop. You know, white folks, we useta make near 'bout eve'ything dat wes +needed to run a body raght on our plantation. Us had eve'ything. On +Sunday us wo' gingham an' calico dresses an' I ma'ied in a Swiss dress.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I worked as a house gal an' when Miss Sarah ma'ied I went with her to +nuss her chilluns. Besides Miss Sarah dere was Mista Billy, Mista Crick, +Miss Lucy and Miss Emma. Dey had two uncles an' a Aunt of deres lived +dere too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We had a happy fambly. At night some of de house niggers would gather +'roun' de fire, an' mistis would read us de scriptures, an' de white +chilluns git tired an' slip out de do' but us little niggers couldn't +'ford to do dat; us hadda stay dere whether us liked it or not. +Sometimes de massa let de niggers dance an' frolic on Saturday nights, +but we warn't 'lowed to go offen de plantation, none ceptin' de ones dat +had a wife or husban' on anudder plantation; den dey could only stay for +a short time. Sometimes us could go off to church, an' I remembers a +babtizin' in de creek. Some of dem niggers 'most got demselves drowned. +Dey warn't used to so much water an' dey would come up outen de creek a +spittin' an' a-coughin' lak de debil had a holt of 'em. Dere was so much +shoutin' I 'spose ever'body fo' ten miles aroun' could hear dem niggers +a-carrin' on in de creek.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Durin' de war, my mammy helped spin cotton for de soldiers' clothes, +an' when de Yankees come through, us hid all de valuables in de woods. +Us had to feed dem an' dere hosses too. Dey et up near 'bout everything +we had on de place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dere warn't no schools in dem days for us colored folks. Us learned +f'um de scriptures, an' by listenin' to de white folks talk."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="hannah-jones"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id134">Hannah Jones</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Hannah Jones</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Pigie T. Hix, Greensboro</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">AUNT HANNAH HAS A HUNDRED DESCENDANTS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Hannah Jones lives with her daughter in a small four room house on +Tuscaloosa Street, Greensboro. "Lawdy," she said, "It's been so long dat +I's 'mos' forgot 'bout dem slavery days, but I was bawn, in Bunker Hill, +Amelia County, Virginny. My pappy was named Simon Johnson an' my mammy +was Rhoda Johnson. My Marster was Alfred Wood an' my mistis was Miss +Tabby Wood. When Massa died, de 'state was 'vided an' I fell to de son +dat was too sick to take care of de place an' de slaves. Soon I was tuk +to Richmond an' sold to Jedge Moore of Alabammy for twelve hundred +dollars. Dat was de fust time I ever seed a slave sold. I was sixteen +years old. When Jedge Moore's plantation was sold de niggers went wid de +place an' it was bought by Marse Isaiah an' Marse Bill Smarr. It was +called de Gillum Place and dat is east of Prairieville. I was a house +girl an' ho'p wid de sewin' an' de spinnin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had good houses built outten cedar logs an' de quarters looked jus' +lak dis street dat I lives on now. We had good beds an' plenty vittels +to eat: greens, cawn bread, meat an' all kinds of sweets. Some time de +men folks would ketch a 'possum or rabbit. Marster had a big vegetable +garden an' we was 'lowed to help ourselves f'um dis here garden. Us had +two eve'y day dresses, an' we done our washin' at night. When I was +ma'ied, de ceremony tuk place at my Mammy's house an' I wo' a pretty +white dress.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our oberseer was Harvey Williamson an' he went 'roun' at nine o'clock +to see iffen us niggers was in baid. Sometimes atter he done been +'roun', us'd git up an' have some fun. At de break of day all de slaves +would git up an' go to work. Dose goin' way down in de fiel's would +have to git up even befo' it was light so's to be dar when de dawn broke +to commence de day's work. Den dey would come back at twelve o'clock for +dinner an' res' awhile, den go back an' work till sun down.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We useta have a man on de place dat played a banjo, an' we would dance +an' play while he sang.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dis was one of his songs:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">White folks says a nigger won't steal</div> +<div class="line">But I cotched six in my cawnfiel'</div> +<div class="line">If you want to see a nigger run</div> +<div class="line">Shoot at dat nigger wid a gattlin' gun.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"My last Marsters was two brothers an' dey had one sister, Miss Sarah +Smarr.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We didn't have no jail on de place, an' most of us never went offen de +plantation, jus' stayed 'roun' an' had a good time playin' amongst +ourselves. Us niggers had a church dar on de place an' a white man +preached to us, but in Virginny we went to de same church as de Marster +did. I didn't jine no church dough till I come to Alabamy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"None of us slaves ever tried to run away to de nawth 'ca'se dey was +good to us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We useta have a doctor dat'd come roun' eve'y two weeks to see how de +slaves was doin' an' iffen we was sick he would give us some medicine. +Some of de women would tie asafetida 'roun' de chilluns necks to keep de +sickness away.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some Saddays we had to work after dinner, but most of the time Marster +would let us have a good time. On Christmas day us had a big celebration +an' didn't do no work at all.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Didn't nobody have no time to learn us how to read an' write.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know nothin' 'bout Mr. Lincoln 'cep'n he freed all us slaves, +an' when we heard dat us was free all de niggers marched to +Prairieville an' had a celebration.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I's had nine chilluns, twenty five gran' chilluns, twenty seven +great gran' chilluns an' thirteen great great gran'chilluns, an' I is +expectin' mo' to come along pretty soon. I guess maybee I'll have 100 +descendents fo' I shuffle off."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="josephine"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id135">Josephine</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Josephine</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, Eufaula, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">WHEN SHERMAN PASSED THROUGH</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Josephine claims to be the oldest Negro in Eufaula. She says she +was born ninety-four years ago in North Georgia on a plantation above +Atlanta. She lives now in Eufaula, Alabama with a great-granddaughter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I used to belong to Marse Rogers," she said. "After surrender, Marse +Rogers moved to dis country, and bought a plantation 'twixt Marse Josiah +Flourney's and General Toney's. He said his plantation j'ined theirs." +She was a nurse-maid all of her life, even in Slave days, and never was +a "field nigger." Asked if she saw any soldiers during the war she said +she saw "thousands."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I and my Mistis and her baby hid in de swamps three days while Sherman +and his army was passin' through," she explained. "Marse Rogers was in +Virginny and when he got back home, there wasn't nothin' left but a +well. Everything had been burned up. His house was gone and so was de +smoke house; everything." She added that the well was a "dry well" where +melons and butter and milk and meats were placed, in Summer, to keep +them cool.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Those three days my little brother hid in this well, while the soldiers +were passin'," she said.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Fore God, Missy," she exclaimed, "when we got dat little nigger out ob +dat well, he had almost turned white!"</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Josephine is still a "nurse maid." She rocks her +great-great-great-grandchildren.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lucindy-lawrence-jurdon"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id136">Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Lee County, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">IT AIN'T DE SAME</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon bustled feverishly about her tiny Lee County +cabin when she learned her picture was "goin' to be tuk." She got out +her old spinning wheel; sat down before it and beamed. Her daughter +coming in from the field, exclaimed: "Ma, I done tol' you dis lady was +comin' to see you; an' you wouldn't believe me."</p> +<p class="pnext">After she had posed, she seated herself to tell about slavery days. Her +oldest grandson was sick in the next room with pneumonia; the cabin was +stuffy and bare.</p> +<p class="pnext">Lucindy said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I was borned in Macon, Georgy, on de twenty-eighth day of some +month or other; I can't 'member which. But de year was 1858.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy an' mammy, Emanuel and Patsy Lawrence, come from Jasper +County, Georgy. I had a sister named Jennie an' a brother named Phillip, +but I was de oldest.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster had 'bout three or four hundred acres on his plantation. +His name was Marster LeRoy Lawrence, and he shorely was good to all us +niggers. His daddy was Mr. Billy Lawrence; an' de marster had four +chilluns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us lived in a two-room log house wid a lean-to next it. Us was well off +in dem times, but us didn't have sense enough to know it. I 'members dat +us always had plenty of good victuals.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, us had meat broiled on hot rocks, roasted 'taters, ash-cake and +sech. On Sunday us had ash-cake cooked in collard leaves; an' beef was +served us when de killin' time come. Marster always gived de niggers +plenty to eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I can sit here an' picture dat house of marster's; a big, six-room +house wid wide plank weather-boarding. Beside de house was a big garden, +and it had palings 'round it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy was a fine weaver and did de work for both white an' colored. +Dis is her spinning wheel, an' it can still be used. I use it sometimes +now. Us made our own cloth an' our stockings, too.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-115"> +<span id="id39"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon" src="images/image248jurdon.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Lucindy Lawrence Jurdon, Lee County, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"No'm, us never did learn nothing. If us tried to read or write dey +would whack our forefingers off. Us lived forty miles from de town an' +it would take more dan two days to git to town. De women folks had to +fix lunches every time dey went.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My grandmammy had sixteen chilluns. I 'members dat when us courted us +went to walk an' hunted chestnuts. Us would string dem an' put 'em +'round our necks an' smile at our fellers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sattidy nights dey would have dances an' dance all night long. +Somebody would clap hands, beat pans, blow quills or pick de banjer +strings. When us had cornshuckin's, dey would pile de corn up, ring +'round it an' shuck, drink likker an' holler: 'Boss man, boss man, +please gimme my time; Boss man, boss man, fer I'm most broke down.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat one ol' sick man was freed 'fore freedom come. Dey let +him go whar he wanted to, so he dug a hole in de ground an' used it fer +a room. He put rafters inside to help hold it up an' it slanted down at +de back."</p> +<p class="pnext">Lucindy mused a moment, concluded: "Dem was good days, honey; mighty +good. But us shorely is in a bad fix now an' needs help mighty bad. It +jest ain't de same no more."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lucy-kimball"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id137">Lucy Kimball</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lucy Kimball</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Francois Ludgere Diard, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THE FULFILLED WISH OF MAMMY LUCY KIMBALL</em></p> +<p class="pnext">I made two visits to the home of Mammy Lucy Kimball. The first was +during the month of April, 1937; the next was nearly a month later. On +the first trip I had a very successful talk with the old Negro woman, +but on the last, she wasn't at home, and so the information I sought had +to wait. I was very disappointed that I couldn't see her on my second +venture, but it was impossible.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mammy Lucy had not grown very feeble when I last saw her, and her +methodical mode of living can be attributed to her consciousness of the +venerable age of eighty-five years which she had reached. She was born +into slavery in 1851 at Swift's Landing near the town of Blakeley, in +Baldwin County. She was a slave in the Charles Hall family of that +county before and during the War between the States. In 1907, she came +to work for the T.S. Fry and Santos Rubira families of Mobile.</p> +<p class="pnext">Following the War between the States, Mammy Lucy Kimball worked in +various families at the summer resorts of Baldwin County.</p> +<p class="pnext">When a young girl, Mammy Lucy performed the duties of a children's +nurse, and worked as a dining room servant. She had some education, and +as she had worked in families of refinement and culture all her life, +her manner was that of a well educated person. However, like the average +educated Negro, she still displayed the characteristics of the Negro of +the ante-bellum days. She said that she strictly adhered to old +fashioned methods, such as: going to church twice a week, not believing +in doctors, and always taking home-concocted remedies.</p> +<p class="pnext">I asked her if she believed in carrying a rabbit's foot for luck, to +which she responded:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, you don' think I'm like these other Negroes, who still believe +in that old nonsense? I might tell the children that a rabbit foot +brings good luck because it is an old custom for superstitions persons +to carry one, but, honey, you'd have just as good luck if you carried +brick-bats in your coat. My white people in Baldwin County never brought +me up to believe in such things."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, Mammy Lucy," I asked, "do you remember any strange or weird +things that happened during the Civil War?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes," she answered slowly, "I remember during the Civil War some of the +mischievous Sibley boys who were kin to the Hall family over in Baldwin +County, tied a strange long black thread to the ankle of a black boy +named Slow Poke.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some Negroes were going to town that night to fetch supplies and among +them was Slow Poke. The boys jokingly asked him if he had his rabbit +foot with him as he might need it to keep the rattling noises away at +night. Slow Poke showed them his rabbit foot and, displaying his +glistening teeth in a broad grin he said that there 'warn't goin' to be +no ghosties atter him.' The boys deftly tied a string to Slow Poke's +ankle while some of their friends held his attention. On this string +were attached three cow bladders. Slow Poke hadn't gone far when he +heard the bladders rattling at his heels. He immediately decided that +there was a whole troop of ghosts after him, and so began to hit his +fastest gait down the middle of the dark road. He ran till he reached +Montgomery Hill some miles distant, where the string finally wore out. +His people didn't find him till three days later. Then they took him +home and gave him a sound whipping for running away."</p> +<p class="pnext">Mammy Lucy talked of the Hall and Sibley families and of the wealth that +they once had, and what happiness she found in being slave to such good +people. She remembered all the summer resorts on the eastern shore of +Mobile Bay when they were in their glory before the Civil War, and how +the Mobile ferries landed bringing over all the fashionable Mobile +families to their summer homes on the bay. She remembered hearing father +Ryan, the poet-priest of the south, preaching at the dedication of the +Catholic Church at Montrose and the storm in the '70's which almost +demolished Alabama City (now Fairhope). She recalls the landing of the +Confederate troops at Hollywood for wood when they left Mobile at the +outbreak of the war on their way to Fort Pickens, Florida, to enter +active service.</p> +<p class="pnext">I found Mammy Lucy to be neat and prim as she must have been thirty +years ago, when she first went to work for the Fry and Rubira families. +She still walks with the agility of a young person, and her mind is +fertile with fresh thoughts and with the deeds of the past. "I have +found happiness," she said. "People have been good to me and I, in +return, have tried to be kind to those around me. I have lived a plain +life and have been rewarded with a ripe age that still finds me feeling +young. I shall never grow old in my thoughts and actions, but always +keep a place in my mind to welcome something new. I will have had a +complete life if I can live only two weeks longer. There is something +I'd like to see."</p> +<p class="pnext">After a few more minutes I left her and returned home. There was +something I wanted to ask Mammy Lucy; something that preyed on my mind +for days. I wanted to ask her what the thing was that she wanted to see. +She was so gentle and courteous; my interest seemed officious prying +into her affairs. Someday I shall go to see her again, I decided, and +bring up the subject casually. Then she'll never know of my unworthy +curiosity.</p> +<p class="pnext">Three weeks later I walked to the door of Mammy Lucy's cabin and on the +porch stood a Negro girl watering a few pots of flowers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is Mammy Lucy at home?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">The girl was silent for a moment, then she spoke in a high-pitched +whining voice: "Mammy Lucy, she died."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, I'm sorry," I said. "When did she die?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Fo' days ago," was the reply.</p> +<p class="pnext">I walked down the path of pebbles toward the bay. The question would +never be answered, but I knew that Mammy Lucy died content.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ellen-king"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id138">Ellen King</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal conversation with Aunt Ellen King</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Mauvilla, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SATAN DONE GOT DIS JUKING GENERATION</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Ellen King lives in a two room cabin nestling back in the woods near +Mauvilla, Ala., about twelve miles above Mobile. A little Negro boy led +me along a circuitous path to the ex-slave, showing the weight of her 86 +years. After talking awhile she became interested and told that she was +born at Enterprise, Miss. on the plantation of Mr. and Mrs. Harvey, but +could not recall their given names, or the names of their children, of +which there were three, two girls and one boy.</p> +<p class="pnext">They lived in a big white house and the cabins in the slave quarters +were built of planks, with streets between and little gardens in front +of them. Some planted vegetables and others flowers.</p> +<p class="pnext">The Harveys were good masters, they had plenty to eat, and good homespun +clothes to wear and home-tanned leather shoes. The women gathered +leaves, bark, and indigo to dye the cloth to make their dresses of +different colors.</p> +<p class="pnext">The plantation was large and had several slaves. Aunt Ellen, however, +could not recall the number of acres or the number of slaves, but knew +there was a crowd of them. The Harvey's raised wheat, cotton and corn, +and lots of live stock.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Ellen sat quiet for a few moments and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lady, when I sits and thinks of all the good things us had to eat and +all the fun we had 'course we had to work, but you knows lady, when a +crowd all works together and sings and laughs, first thing you knows +work's done."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Ellen recalled the Yankees coming through and telling all the +slaves they were free, and that a lot of the slaves went with them, but +Aunt Ellen laughed and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"My Pa and some of the others got scared and hid in a big cave and just +stayed there until the soldiers left, and, lady, he still stayed on +atter the war with the Harveys, and I was married there in the white +folks church. They gave me a big wedding, lots to eat, plenty of music, +singing and dancing. Jest like they used to say, we 'danced all night to +broad daylight.'"</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Ellen was asked how many times she was married and she +replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Twice, first one dead and don't know where t'other is, and had no +children by either."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked about religion Aunt Ellen said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lady, I prayed and prayed and religion came to me, and I jined the Big +Zion Methodist Church, in Mobile, Ala., but moved here to Mauvilla where +there was no Methodist Church, so I jined the Baptist Church."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Ellen says the people of today are going back not forward. "All +they study is idleness and to do devilment these days. Young generation +done gone, Satan got 'am, too much 'juking' these days, have no time to +study 'bout the Lord and their dying day. All they do, is juke, juke, +juke! When they closed the schools up here in Mauvilla, they had +children all juking.</p> +<p class="pnext">The writer was somewhat at a loss to know just what Aunt Ellen meant by +"juking," but thought best to let her talk on and not make a direct +inquiry, and after a little Aunt Ellen continued:</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, lady, we used to call figgers for our dancing, had a big fiddle and +two small fiddles, and a set in one room and one in t'other. None of +this twisting and turning. I just can't stand all that juking, just +won't look at it."</p> +<p class="pnext">By "juking" Aunt Ellen meant rough dancing of the generation of today.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Ellen firmly believes the old-time religion was best for all, and +tried to sing in a wavering voice the following:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">"Down by the river side,</div> +<div class="line">Jesus will talk and walk,</div> +<div class="line">Ain't going to study the world no more,</div> +<div class="line">Ain't going to study the world no more,</div> +<div class="line">For down by the river side,</div> +<div class="line">Jesus will talk and walk."</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mandy-leslie"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id139">Mandy Leslie</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mandy Leslie</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Daphne L.E. Curtis, Fairhope, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THE ORPHAN SLAVE-GIRL</em></p> +<p class="pnext">In the suburbs of Fairhope, in a rough but neatly-kept cottage of two +rooms, lives Mandy Leslie, a hard-working Negro woman whose energy +belies the seventy-seven years to which she credibly lays claim. Twice +widowed and her children scattered to the winds, Mandy is a pillar of +strength and comfort to several white households, where she makes weekly +calls to care for the laundry work, "wash and iron," as she calls it. +The washing is done in the back yards, where a hot fire under an iron +pot boils the garments to a state that permits Mandy's rubbing over a +fluted wash-board to make them spotless. Strung on lines in the sun, the +clothes are ready for ironing next day.</p> +<p class="pnext">Using old-fashioned sadirons, heated at an open fire, Mandy turns out a +"done-up" product that any modern laundry might envy. During the ironing +process, which takes place in the hall or a spare room, the mistress of +the house is entertained with a steady stream of biography, comment, and +information from the lonely old woman who relishes this opportunity to +talk to somebody, especially if there happens to be a visitor who is not +familiar with her story. A typical episode runs like this:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I 'members de war, but I don't lak no wars. Dey give folks +trouble and dey's full of evil doings. When de Yankees come t'rough +here, dey took my mammy off in a wagon, and lef' me right side de road, +and when she try to git out de wagon to fetch me, dey hit her on de head +and she fell back in de wagon and didn't holler no more. Dey jes' driv' +off up de big road wid Mammy lying down in de wagon—she mount a been +dead, 'cause I ain't never seed her no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Unker John Leslie and Aunt Josie and all dey chillun come along in a +wagon, gwine up North, dey said, and dey said dey found me standing dar +side de road crying for my mammy. Aunt Josie, she say: 'Pore little +lamb, you gwine wid us. Us ain't got much, but us can't let you die.' +And Unker John, he say: 'Poor chile, us mustn't leave her disaway.' He +lift me up in de wagon and drive twell de mule gin plum' out, and den us +stop and took up on a place not fur from Mon'gomery, on Mr. Willis +Biles' place. Us live dar twell I was grown woman, and Mr. Biles sho' +was a good man to live wid and he treat us right every year.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den I married Taylor and us kep' on living wid Mr. Biles and all t'ree +of us's chillun was borned dere. Den Taylor died wid de fever, and he +had insho'ance whet us pay a dollar a mont' for de longest and he say it +take care me and de chillun when he gone. Bless God, dat money didn't +take care nobody 'cept de doctor and de burying-man. Dey bofe got dey +part and lef' me jes' two dollar and seventy cents, dat's all. Mr. Biles +say dey ought to be whupped for chargin' me lak dey did. Den he went to +see 'em, and cussed 'em out, and dey sont back twenty dollar. I ain't +waste no more money on insho'ance, no ma'am!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I had a hard time keeping my chillun and working de crop too; but Mr. +Biles, he 'low me a mule, jes' lak he do Taylor 'fore he died, and us +made four bags of cotton de fust year and five bags de nex' year. I pick +every lock of it myself—jes' me and dem little chilluns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den Rufus he come along and he thought us had all de insho'ance money, +and he court me so hard and so reg'lar dat I act a fool and married him, +and he turn out to be de no-countest nigger dat ever lived. 'Stead of +him supporting me, us had to support him for nigh 'bout ten year, me and +de chillun. He had misery in he back, and couldn't do no hard work lak +plowing and hoeing. It hurt he back to pick cotton and pull fodder, and +he jes' set 'roun' and make a few baskets and eat lak a hoss.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Willis Biles he died, and he boy, Mr. Joe, he took de place and +run it for he ma. Mr. Joe told Rufus 'twan't nothing de matter wid him +but damn lazy, and if he don't git out and he'p me work, he gonna set de +Ku Klux on him. Den us got scared and moved nigh 'bout to Uniontown, and +us live wid Mr. Bob Simmons for seben years hand-running, and he treat +us right every fall 'bout de settlement. Mr. Bob he say 'tain't nothing +de matter wid Rufus jes' lak Mr. Joe say, and Rufus say he gwine move to +town whar he kin git work to suit him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us move to town, and Rufus he gone all day looking for a job and don't +find nothing to suit him. I has to take in washing from de white folks +to feed us and dey charge two dollars rent for de little shack us live +in. 'Twan't right to do dat; 'cause I ain't never paid no house-rent in +all my bo'n days, twell den. And de fust t'ing I know, dat trifling +Rufus he done sell de mule and wagon and got drunk and lost de res' of +de money. Us was sho' in a bad fix. Why didn't I quit Rufus? Yassum, I +'spects I ought to done dat; but he' so humble when he sober up and pray +so strong. He say de Lord done call him outen he meanness and he gwine +preach Jesus. He make lak he need dem preacher clothes, and us skimped +along and saved 'nough to buy Rufus de suit of clothes wid a long-tail +coat. He got a high-up hat and a Bible, and he sho did look gran'. Us +was proud to see him all fix up and going out to labor in de vineyard of +de Lord.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us give Rufus de las' t'ree dollars us could scrape up and he got on de +train and went to Mon'gomery, but us ain't seen hair nor hide of dat +nigger sence. In 'bout a year us got a letter from him in Juliet, wayup +in Illinois, wharever dat is, and he say he in de pen'tenshry for ten +year, 'cause dey 'scuse him stealing a woman's jew'lry, and would I get +Mr. Biles and Mr. Simmons to do what dey can to get him out. He repent +and been washed in de blood of de Lamb sence he been in jail. And he say +if anybody write me dat he runned off from Mon'gomery wid 'nother woman +and dat he got a wife in Chicago, it's a lie.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat fix me wid dat triflin' nigger, and Mr. Sam Broady, what's a +lawyer, he got me a 'vorcement and gin me back my fust name, Leslie. Now +I's t'rough wid marrying. My chillun done all gone and got married, and +I come back here whar I come from. 'Twix' here and Brantley, is de +place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"How old I is? I was five year old, come de Surrender—how old dat make +me? Sebenty-seben? Dat's right and I be sebenty-eight dis time nex' +year. How I know I be living dis time nex' year? 'Cose, I will be +living! I always notice dat when I lives t'rough March, I lives de res' +of de year, and ain't March jes' now gone, huh?</p> +<p class="pnext">"How de way wais' ironed suit you, Missy?"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="dellie-lewis"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id140">Dellie Lewis</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Dellie Lewis</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DELLIE LEWIS KNOWS CURES AND 'CUNJER'</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"To begin at de beginnin', white folks," said Dellie Lewis, "I was bawn +on de plantation of Winston Hunter at Sunflower in Washington County, +Alabama. It's on de Southern Railroad. De fus' thing dat I remembers was +when de Gran' Trunk Railroad cut dere right of way through near +Sunflower. Dey had a chain gang of prisoners dat warn't slaves aworkin' +on de road, an' me an' anudder little nigger gal was sont wid big cans +of buttermilk to sell 'em. One day a handsome white gent'man rode to our +house an' axe me fo' a drink of cool water. He was de fo'man on de road. +Jus' as soon as I handed it to him he done fell offen his hoss on de +groun'. I run to de Mistis an' she got some of de niggers 'roun' de +place to ca'ay de gent'man to de big house, an' do you know it, white +folks, dat man, he neber open his eyes again! He keppa callin' de Mistis +his mammy, but he neber open his eyes to see dat she warn't his mammy. +He died a little later wid a conjested chill.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den I remembers one of de Alabama River floods, dat swep' ober de lan' +an' washed away lots of de food. De gover'ment sont some supplies of +meat, meal an' 'lasses. De barrels was marked U.S. an' one nigger, bein' +tired of waitin' an' bein' powerful hongry tol' us dat de U.S. on de +barrel meant Us, so us commence' to eat. When de oberseer come to gib us +de meat an' 'lasses, us be done et it all up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us slaves useta git up at dawn; de oberseer blowed a cow hawn to call +us to work. De Hunter slaves was 'lowed to go avisitin' udder slaves +atter work hours an' on Sundays, an' iffen we was to meet a pattyroller, +an' he axe us whar we f'um an' who we b'long to all us had to say was +we's Hunter niggers; an' dat pattyroller didn't do nothin', caze de +Hunter niggers warn't neber whupped by no pattyroller. Some niggers +when dey was kotched eben dough dey warn't Hunter niggers, dey'd say it +jus' de same, caze dem pattyrollers was always 'fraid to fool 'long wid +a Hunter nigger. Massa Hunter, he was somp'n'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Durin' de Christmas celebration, us all had gif's. Us had quilting +bee's wid de white folks, an' iffen a white gent'man th'owed a quilt +ober a white lady he was 'titled to a kiss an' a hug f'um her. Atter de +celebratin' we all had a big supper.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' speakin' of cures, white folks, us niggers had 'em. My grandmammy +was a midwife an' she useta gib women cloves an' whiskey to ease de +pain. She also gib 'em dried watermelon seeds to git rid of de grabel in +de kidneys. For night sweats Grandmammy would put an axe under de bed of +de sick pusson wid de blade asittin' straight up. An' iffen yo' is sick +an' wants to keep de visitors away, jus' putt a fresh laid aig in front +of de do' an' dey won't come in. If you is anxious fo' yo' sweetheart to +come back f'um a trip put a pin in de groun' wid de point up an' den put +a aig on de point. When all de insides runs outen de aig yo' sweetheart +will return.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, white folks, us useta hab games. Us useta play, 'Puss in de +cawner,' 'Next do' neighbor' an' 'Fox an' geese.' I kin gib you some of +de songs we useta sing:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Old sweet beans and barley grows,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Old sweet beans an' barley grows,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">You nor I nor nobody knows,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Where old sweet beans an' barley grows.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">Go choose yo' east,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Go choose yo' wes',</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Go choose de one dat you love best,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">If she's not here to take her part,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Choose de nex' one to yo' heart.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I is always been a 'piscopalian in belief, white folks. I +ma'ied Bill Lewis when I was fifteen year old in Montgomery an' us had +three chilluns. I is strong in my faith.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">In mercy, not in wrath,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Rebuke me, gracious Lawd</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Les' when Dy whole displeasure rise,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">I sink beneath Dy rod.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yassuh, I remembers de war. I seed de Yankees a-marchin' through our +place an' down de road dat led to Portland in Dallas County. Dey was +mighty fine looking wid all dere brass buttons and nice lookin' +uniforms. Dey didn't gib us much trouble. Dey had a Cap'n dat was good +an' kin'. I heered him say dat dere warn't agoin' to be no stealin' an' +atrampin' through folks' houses. Dey slep' outen de yard for one night; +den dey went on in to Portland.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Munger was our oberseer, but he had money of his own. He was better +dan mos' oberseers, an' dere warn't no po' white trash, dem onery +buckers libed further back in de woods.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us was sick Dr Lewis Williams, who was de doctor of de massa, +'tended to us slaves. I remembers sittin' in de doctor's lap while he +tried to soothe my ailments.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us house servants was taught to read by de white folks, but my +gran'-mammy, Alvain Hunter, dat didn't have no learnin' but dat knowed +de Bible back'ards an' farwards, made us study. When me an' my brother +was learnin' outen de Blue Back Speller she say:</p> +<p class="pnext">"'How's dat? Go ober it.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den we would laugh an' answer, 'How you know? You can't read.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Jus' don't soun' raght. De Lawd tell me when its raght. You-all can't +fool me so don't try.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de marriages was performed, de massa read de ceremony an' de +couples would step off over a broomstick for luck. Den we all had a big +supper, an' dere was music an' dancin' by de plenty."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lightnin"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id141">Lightnin'</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lightnin'</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">John Proctor Mills</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Ignorant of the date of his birth, which occurred at Cahaba, the old +State capital, Lightnin' was an overgrown, gangling youth of fourteen or +thereabouts when the Civil War began. Born into slavery, he was the +property of one Joel Matthews, cotton planter, whose fields lay near the +then new capital city.</p> +<p class="pnext">Lightnin' is happiest when spinning some yarn of the old days in Alabama +for an interested audience, and when one such inquired as to how he came +to be called "Lightnin'," the old man broke into a toothless grin and +launched at once into another of the stories dear to his heart.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat's Massa Joel's doin's, boss. I jist natcherly wa'nt neber any too +peart an fas' on my foots, an de fus' thing Massa Joel eber sot me to +fetch him was a cool drink o' water. De water done got wa'm 'fo' I brung +it to him, an stid'er scoldin, he jist bus' out laffin' an' say: "Boy, +you is so slow I gwineter call you after the fas'est thing on earth. +Frum now on yo' name is Lightnin'." An I been Lightnin' eber since. +Co'se I knowed Massa Joel was throwin' off on me, lil' as I was, but it +looks lak I wa'nt bawn in no big hurry an I jist been movin' long +slow-like eber since.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa Joel musta been bawn on a sunshiny day 'cause he sho' was bright +an' good natured. Eber' nigger on de place love him lak he was sont from +Heaben. Mos' eber' day he come to de quarters wid de fambly doctor to +look atter de niggers, fer he say a well-fed, healthy nigger, next to a +mule, is de bes' propersition a man kin 'ves' his money in." An' us +slaves fared as good as anybody.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Naw suh! Massa Joel ain't neber hit me a lick in his life. He say a +well nigger whut doan' wuhk, sho' ain't got no eats an care comin' his +way, an ought'er be sont down de Ribber.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is I been mah'id? Yas suh. I done had fo' wives, an raise 'leben +chillun. But 'taint lak in de ole days. Chillun all gone, an de ole +nigger got no white folks, makes it mighty hahd to git along. 'Bout all +de ole man kin do is fish an I does dat an gits a li'l somp'in to eat. +'Fo young Massa Tom passed on—he was Massa Joel's boy—I ain't neber +wanted fer nothin'. I was Massa Tom's body guard. Us hunted an fished +together, played wid de white chillun an sometimes I rid behin' him on +de hoss, or on de fore seat wid de ca'iage driver when de fambly went to +chu'ch.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But dat's all in de pas', an de good Lawd say no man kin bring back de +pas'. So I reckon, ef you all 'll 'scuse me, I better go fish my +trotline an git somp'in to make the de skillit smell."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="billy-abraham-longslaughter"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id142">Billy Abraham Longslaughter</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Billy Abraham Longslaughter</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">F.L. Diard, [HW: Mobile?]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HE CANED A CHAIR FOR PRESIDENT BUCHANNAN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">On a bright April afternoon, while strolling along the Louisville and +Nashville banana wharf and watching the crisp breezes from the gulf make +small waves lick at the pilings, I met an old Negro man who was fishing +for croakers off the pier. He had, sitting beside him, a basket +containing wicker canes for making and repairing chairs. In the course +of our conversation, I asked him his age.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se eighty year old, white folks," he replied.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well," I said, "you must have been a slave back in the days +before the war."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, boss. I were eight year old when Gen'l Grant freed de niggers." +He spoke the words in a clear, strong voice and with a slight rolling +motion of his gray bristly head.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But General Grant didn't free the slaves, Uncle," I protested.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, yassuh he did too, white folks," he said respectfully; fo' I was +right dere when de gen'l come into Richmond and sot us free."</p> +<p class="pnext">"What about Abraham Lincoln?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I guess he done a part of it, but he didn't do no fightin', kaze +he hadda 'tend to de business in de White House. He lef' de freein' part +to Gen'l Grant. I don' guess Mr. Abe lived long enough ter help us +niggers much. He went to de Ford's Circus and got hisse'f shot."</p> +<p class="pnext">"What's your name?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Billy Abraham Longslaughter. De niggers all calls me Billy, but ole +Massa Longslaughter afore he died called me William."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Where were you born, Uncle Billy?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"On ole Massa Longslaughter's plantation near Richmond Virginny."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Can you read and write?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey neber teach me no readin' and writin' kaze I had to work in de +fields." His rusty hand rubbed across his woolly head, as my questions +continued with the regularity of a metronome; nevertheless, Uncle Billy +seemed always glad to answer them. I couldn't help but notice with what +ease he moved about. He had the agility of a man twenty years his +Junior, though his face, being caverned with wrinkles, gave him the +appearance of great age.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Where is your home now, Uncle Billy?" I continued.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Most any place I goes, white folks. Ma wife, she died 'bout forty year +ago in Virginny, and I been a trabelin' eber since."</p> +<p class="pnext">"What do you do for a living besides fish?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh," he said, "I canes a few chairs," pointing to his basket of +chair-canes beside him on the stringer of the wharf. "You see, white +folks, when all dis repression came on an' dere war'n't no work fo' de +people tuh do, jes lak all de young scallawags I hops me a train and +goes on a trip."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Where do you go next, Uncle Billy?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I guess I mought run ober to New Orleens if I can catch me a +freight train a goin' dat away."</p> +<p class="pnext">"About your fixing chairs," I said. "Have you ever repaired any for well +known people?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lor', white folks, I caned a chair oncet fo' President Buchanan and he +used it ter sit on in de White House. I'se made many a chair fo' famous +people as I trabeled about. I guess I jus' keep on a goin' as long as +I'se able, and when I goes on dat last trip across de quiet riber, I'se +goin' ter make one for ole Gabriel, so's he can res' hisself in between +times he blows on dat hawn."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="louis"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id143">Louis</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with "Uncle" Louis</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">David Holt, Mobile</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">PSYCHOLOGY OF A RUNAWAY SLAVE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Of course you know that we always called the older colored men "Uncle" +and the older colored women "Aunt." It was proper manners.</p> +<p class="pnext">Old "Uncle" Louis was the oldest slave on the plantation, "Uncle" Toby +having died. Louis was a "Guinea nigger." His ancestors had been brought +from the Guinea coast of Africa. He had the characteristic marks of his +tribe, being short, strong and very black, with heavy neck, thick lips, +flat nose and eyes like those of a hog. He had great knowledge of wild +plants, claimed to understand the language of birds and beasts. He +prided himself on his powers as a hunter and also claimed intimate +friendship with ghosts and spooks. Being what was known as a "yard +servant," he had picked up much of the talk of his white masters and +spoke his own version of their language.</p> +<p class="pnext">Old Louis was what was called a "runaway nigger." He would run away in +the latter part of the summer once in every two or three years and come +back in time to help dig sweet potatoes. I was out in the sweet potato +patch one morning when he returned. The doctor was there, also. When +Louis walked up he simply said, "Hello, Louis; are you well?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes sir, Marster."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, take that basket and go to picking up potatoes." Not a word was +said about his running away. After the hands had knocked off work and +Louis was sitting in front of his cabin, I went to him for an +interview.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Louis, what makes you run away? You don't get whipped or abused +in any way."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old slave scratched his grizzled head, puffed at his clay pipe and +pondered the subject for some time before he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Davie, I does cause de woods seems to call me. When +de fall insec's is singin' in de grass an' the 'simmons is gettin' +soft an' de leaves is beginnin' to turn, I jes natcherly has ter go. +De wild sloes, de red haws an' de crab apples is ripe. De walnuts +an de hickory nuts an de beach mast drappin' an de blue smoke comes +over de woods, an de woods birds an de yard birds goes souf wid de +cranes an ducks an wil' geese an de blackbirds an de crows goes in +droves—it seem lack all dat is jes callin' me."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Where do you go?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lorsy, Marse Davie, I never goes off de plantation. I always go to de +woods back o' de past'er. Ole Master knows whar I is an so does Henry. +Don't you know dat holler dat come down on de lef' han' side of de +branch—de fus holler you comes to, not more dan two hundred yards in de +woods?" I knew it well.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Don't you 'member a big green oak tree growin' on de right han' side of +de holler bout a hunder yard up de path?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, sir, dat tree is my home. I done toted some poles an some sedge +gress up dar an made me a bed—but you can't see it from de groun'. When +I gets up dar I can see all 'roun'. I seen you an Marse Joe de las' time +you go fishin'. I lays dar all day and listen to de birds and critters +talkin'. A chicadee tole me you was comin' long befo' I seen you. Den a +jay bird caught a sight of you an he tole me. Can't nobody come along +widout de birds tellin' me. Dey pays no min' to a horse or a dog but +when dey spies a man dey speaks. I done tame' a squi'l so he comes see +me ever'day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De birds and critters sho is good comp'ny. I done made frens wid up all +but de owl and de hawk. Dey is jes natchally bad an de other critters +hates 'em. A ole red-breast' hawk come an lit in a daid pine tree. I +seen him so plain til I knowed what he was thinkin' about. He was jes +mad clean down in his craw and was cussin' ever'thin'. A little pewee +bird seen him an begin to fuss. A crow fly over and hear de pewee, den +fly down close an take a good look at mister hawk den he fly up and +start callin' de other crows. In a little while a whole drove of crows +is flyin' 'roun dat pine tree. Den de jay birds come an dey is callin' +for a fight, but de ole hawk never move. Den de mocking birds come an +dey sair right in and starts pecking at de hawk until he dove into de +woods and gets away, an all de birds begin to talkin' 'bout bugs an +things."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old man was wound up for an interminable talk on his favorite theme, +the talk of critters, and to change the subject I asked: "Uncle Louis, +ain't you afraid of ghosts?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lor', chile, I ain't feared of no ghos' or spook, as I's seed lots of +both. All a ghos' do is jes show hise'f. You never hear of one doin' +nothin' to nobody. Dey is sociable an wants to be near livin' people. +When folks gets scared it hurts de ha'nt's feelin's an dey goes +somewhere else. Dey has all de feelin's dey had when dey was livin'. You +wouldn't stay by wid folks dat's fear'd of you an want to run away from +where you is.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Las' night, when I was up in my nes', an my fire had died out, all +'sept one little chunk, an de moon was shinin' like day, I lay down, I +did, an I take a li'l nap o' sleep. Den I wakes up sudden an looks 'roun +ag'in. Well, sir, de norf side of de hill was covered wid ghoses an +spooks; dey was layin' down, standin' up and leanin' agin trees, but +mos'ly dey was jes sittin' on de groun', all lookin' at me hard as dey +could, widout battin' an eye.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De neares' one to me was a little white ooman. She war sittin' flat on +de groun', holdin' a baby in her lap. She look mighty pitiful an I say +'please Missis, can I ho'p you an yo' baby? I'd be 'bleeged if you tell +me.' Her lips move but I couldn't hear no sound. Den I lay me down an +drap off to sleep agin. When I wakes up de ghosses is all dere an de +little white ooman look lak she want to say somethin', but can't, an I +say, 'I ain' nothin' but a poor runaway nigger, but my Marster is a +mighty kin' man, he'll sholy he'p you; but she didn't say nothin' an I +goes back to sleep. De next time I wakes up de sun was risin' an I jes +lays dere an watches de ghosses an spooks get thin, an fade away like a +fog."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old Negro was sitting in the twilight, talking in a low, impressive +monotone, in a language we both understood but which I find difficulty +in transcribing after all these years that intervene. A screech owl was +"miseryflying" in the family grave yard back of the quarters, a fitting +abligato to the narrative. Though creepy sensations crawled up my spine, +I still had my doubts.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Uncle Louis, do you really believe you saw all that, and didn't dream +it while you were curled up in your nest?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old man seemed aggrieved at my doubts as he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"It ain't no beleevin' about it. I knows what I knows an I sees what I +sees. De ghos' is what lives when de body is done wore out, but it don't +die."</p> +<p class="pnext">"It's all imagination," I said, in defense of reason and nature, as I +understood these things.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I wants to ax you what does de imaginin'. It's your ghos' that does the +imagin' so you can see other ghosses an spooks."</p> +<p class="pnext">In recognition of Louis' knowledge and powers of reasoning my brother +William wrote a diploma in Latin and presented it to him. After that he +was called "Doctor" Louis.</p> +<p class="pnext">I recall that it was about that time that I read a book on psychology +but later discovered that there were those on the plantation who had a +better working knowledge of the subject than was taught in the book.</p> +<p class="pnext">Bibliography: Old Plantation Days, an unpublished work by the Venerable +David Elred Holt, late Archdeacon of the Sacramento Diocese (Protestant +Episcopal) of California, and a native of Buffalo Plantation, near +Natchez, Mississippi.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="tom-mcalpin"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id144">Tom McAlpin</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Tom McAlpin</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">John Morgan Smith</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A WHUPPIN' WID DE TRIMMIN'S</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Mornin' Boss," said uncle Tom McAlpin, "how is you dis mornin'?" The +old former slave spoke cordially with a definite twinkle in his muddy +eyes though his age had passed the four score and ten mark. His mind was +alert; his memory vivid, and his faculties of speech quite unusual. Tom +McAlpin was indeed a remarkable man. There was really a sincere note of +welcome in his voice as he came forward, placed a large piece of +cast-iron pipe against the steps of his house, 1928 Ave. D. So., +Birmingham, and looked up at me showing a mouth of straggly teeth in a +warm smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh," he continued in his high-pitched voice after our salutations, +"I'll be glad to serve you as bes' I kin wid my knowledge of de pas' +years. Jus' you set down in dat chair," he pointed to what was left of +an ante-bellum wicker seat; "I'll set on dese steps an' us'll go over de +whole thing from de beginnin's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Fus' thing I guess you wants to know is whar an' when I was born. +Yassuh, an' who I b'long to. Well, Boss, I was born in Martersville, +Alabamy. Dat's five miles southwest of Talladega. I come into dis ole +worl' on a sunny day in June, eighteen fawty fo'. I belonged to Dr. +Augustus McAlpin, an' from dat day to dis, I is seed many things come +an' go, an' I is aimin' to see a lot mo' befo' I cross to de udder side.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De docta jus' had a small plantation, 'bout 100 acres, I s'pose, an' he +didn't have but 12 slaves, 'caze dere warn't no need fo no mo'. He was +busy in town adoctorin' folks. He didn't have no time to do any real +farmin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My job aroun' de place was to nuss de chilluns, white an' nigger. We +all played 'roun' together. Sometimes we play coon an' rabbit, fox an' +houn' and snatch, but what was de mostes' fun was a-ridin' ole Sut. Sut +was a donkey an' us useta hitch him to a wagon, an' six of de chilluns +would ride in de wagon an' I'd ride on his back. Sometimes us'd ride all +de way into Talladega wid Sut.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, I ain't neber got no whuppin' but one, an' it was a sho' 'nough +complete one, boss, wid all de trimmin's. It all happened when de Massa +told me he better not cotch dem hogs in de corn, an' iffen he did, I was +agoin' to git a whuppin'. Well, boss, dere was one ole hog dat I jus' +couldn't keep outten dere so I tuk a needle an' sewed up his eyes. +'Course I was jus' a little black 'un an' didn't know whut I was adoin', +but I sho' sewed up dat hog's eyelids so's he couldn't see nothin'. Dat +kep' him outten de corn all raght, but when de Massa found it out he +gave me a lickin' dat I ain't forgot yit. Boss, dat was de onlies' +lesson I ever needed in my life. It done de wuk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, dere was pattyrollers 'roun' our place, but dey never cotched +me, 'caze I was too swif' for 'em. Boss, I could take holt of a hosses +tail an' run 'roun' de pasture an' keep up wid him. I was sho' fas' on +my feets.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, us wan't never given no money for nothin', but I learnt how to +make baskets an' I would take 'em in to Talladega on Sat'day evenings +an' sell 'em to de white folks for fifteen cents. Den when I needed +somp'n lak 'bacca or a little piece of chocolate, I could go to de sto' +an' buy it. Lots of slaves on yuther plantations warn't 'lowed to make +any money dough.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, I ain't never had no schoolin', 'ceptin' what I could git outen +de little white folks' books myself. Us niggers useta tote dere books to +school for 'em an' on de way I would look in de book an' git a little +learnin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us niggers on de McAlpin place et, us et raght at de same table +dat de white folks et at. Atter dey finished dere meal, us slaves would +sit down raght atter dem an' eat de same kinda food. Yassuh.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-116"> +<span id="id40"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Tom McAlpin" src="images/image274mcalpin.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Tom McAlpin, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Sho' I 'members de war. I 'members when de war commence', Jeff Davis +called for volunteers; den a little later when de south needed mo' mens +to fight, Jeff Davis' officers would go th'ough de streets, an' grab up +de white mens an' put ropes 'roun' dere wrists lak dey was takin' 'em +off to jail. An' all de while dey was jus' takin' 'em off to de war. Dey +made all de white mens go. It was called de 'scription. Some niggers +went too. Dem niggers fought raght side of dere masters. Some went as +body guards an' some went as soldiers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, Boss, I recalls de time dat de 'federate soldiers, bless dere +souls, hid dere few hosses in de basement of de old Masonic Institute in +Talladega an' hid dere amunition in de hollow stone pillars. Gen'l +Wilson an' his raiders come th'ough dar, but dey never did fin' dem +'federate supplies. Dem Yankees jus' lak to scare eve'ybody roun' de +place to death. Dey shot up de town an' dem blue coats tuk eve'ything we +had: cotton, sugar, flour, hams, preserves, clothes, corn; eve'ything, +Boss, eve'ything. Dey even burned up some houses.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But Boss, dere ain't never been nobody afightin' lak our 'federates +done, but dey ain't never had a chance. Dere was jes' too many of dem +blue coats for us to lick. I seen our 'federates go off laughin' an' +gay; full of life an' health. Dey was big an' strong, asingin' Dixie an' +dey jus knowed dey was agoin' to win. An' boss, I seen 'em come back +skin an' bone, dere eyes all sad an' hollow, an dere clothes all ragged. +Boss, dey was all lookin' sick. De sperrit dey lef' wid jus' been done +whupped outten dem, but it tuk dem Yankees a long time to do it. Our +'federates was de bes' fightin' men dat ever were. Dere warn't nobody +lak our 'federates.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was in Richmond dat cold day dat Gen'l Lee handed his sword over to +de yuther side, an' I seen Jeff Davis when he made a speech 'bout +startin' over. I seen de niggers leavin' dere homes an' awandering' off +into de worl' to God knows whar, asayin' good-bye to dere white folks, +an' atryin' to make dere way de bes' dey kin. But, white boss, it jes' +seem lak you let a nigger go widout a boss an' he jes' no good. Dere +ain't much he kin do, 'caze dere ain't nobody to tell him. Yassuh, I was +sont to Richmond to bring home some of our wounded 'federates. Dey sont +me 'caze dey knowed I was agoin' to do my bes', an' caze dey knowed I +warn't afeered of nothin'. Dat's de way I've always tried to be, white +boss, lak my white people what raised me. God bless 'em."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="anne-maddox"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id145">Anne Maddox</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Anne Maddox</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I SHOUTED THREE DAYS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Bible records place Anne Maddox's age at 113. She lives in a tiny cabin +with her youngest child, Zora, about eight miles from Opelika. She is +very feeble now and had to be wheeled out on the front porch to have her +picture made.</p> +<p class="pnext">Anne lives exclusively in the past. To her, the present world is "full +of de devil an' gettin' worser every day." She likes to talk about the +old days, but her voice is feeble and barely above a whisper.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se heerd a heap o' talk 'bout Mr. Abraham Lincoln," she said, "an' I +had a picture of him onc't; but I don't know nothin' 'bout him."</p> +<p class="pnext">Anne takes her religion seriously and is devoutly confident that she +will "inherit de promise."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I jined de church in Gold Hill, Alabama," she recalled, "an' honey, I +felt so good I don't know jest how I did feel. I shouted three days an' +wouldn't eat a bite. I couldn't even drink water."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old former slave was born in Virginia in 1824 and belonged to John +Umford. She was later sold to Bill Maddox, of Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I come from Virginny," she said, "us travelled in wagons and slept +in tents. Eve'y mornin' us was made to clean ourselves an' dress up; den +us was put on de block an' bid on. White peoples was dere from +everywhere; de face of de earth was covered by dem. I was thirteen den, +an' I kin remember four wars.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother and father was Charlie an' Rhody Heath, an' I had two +brothers an' two sisters. Our houses was lak horse stables; made of logs +wid mud an' sticks dobbed in de cracks. Dey had no floors. Dere warn't +no furniture 'cept a box fer de dresser wid a piece of looking glass to +look in. Us had to sleep on shuck mattresses an' us cooked on big +fireplaces wid long hooks out over de fire to hang pots on to bile.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-117"> +<span id="id41"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Anne Maddox" src="images/image278maddox.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Anne Maddox, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Us fried on three-legged skillets over de fire an' cooked ash-cakes on +de hearth wid hickory leaves on de bottom nex' to de hearth. 'Tain't no +sech good cookin' now as den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout four o'clock in de evenin' all de little niggers was called up in +de big yard where de cook had put milk in a long wooden trough an' +crumbled ash-cake in it. Us had pot licker in de trough, too. Us et de +bread an' milk wid shells an' would use our hands, but it was good.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster hunted a heap, but us never did git none of what he brought +in. Us had plenty of clothes, sich as was, but dey was spun an' wove at +home. Us had home-made shoes, hard brogans, called 'Jackson ties.' Dey +had brass caps on de toe an' would rub blisters on de feet.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De plantation had several hundred acres. I was up wid de fust light to +draw water and help as house girl. When dat task was done I had to go to +de fiel'. Dey blew a big hawn to 'rouse de slaves in de morning's, +sometimes 'fore day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster was good to us niggers, dough. He never 'lowed us to +be whupped; jist scolded us. If us went anywheres, us had to be back +by sundown. I once seed some slaves workin' roads in chains wid a +iron ball hangin' on behin'. It was punishment fur meanness."</p> +<p class="pnext">Anne said the slaves on the Maddox plantation were never allowed to +learn to read and write, declaring: "It was too bad if dey kotched a +nigger wid a pencil an' paper in his han!"</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was made to carry Marster's chilluns to school, den go back fur 'em," +she said. "Ol' Mistus read us de Bible, an' us went to de white folks +church an' sat in de back, wid de white peoples sittin' up front.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, dem patterollers was bad. I sho' would run from dem things, too."</p> +<p class="pnext">Anne's mind leaps in fast succession from one subject to another, and at +times it is difficult to keep up with her intermingled thoughts.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster give us plenty of licker," she said, "an' us laked dat. One +of de funniest things us had aroun' de plantation was a little goat dat +could walk a fence jist lak us little niggers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Yankees come, gran'daddy was at prayer meetin' an' Ol' Marster +come runnin' an' told de niggers to hitch up de mules an' waggins. Dey +was tol' to hide all de food an' jewelry, but 'bout dat time us seed de +Yankees comin'. Dey didn't do us no harm; sho' did some places, dough.</p> +<p class="pnext">"T'want long 'fore Marster call all us niggers up to de house an' tol' +us dat us was free. He said us could go away or stay wid him. I stayed +'twel I was grown an' married Doc Maddox. Us had five chillun, Walter, +Failer, Siney, Zora an' Johnny. I don't know how many gran'chilluns I'se +got."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mandy"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id146">Mandy</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mandy</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Daphne L.E. Curtis, Fairhope, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Howdy Miss. We is sure got a purty day fer de scrubbin' job. Hit will +dry as fas' as we turns hit loose.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now jes' look a yonder, ef she ain't got gold-fishes an' ever'thing +heart could wish!—Is they got ary increases?—Yassum,—dat's good; +mebby so you can sell some.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me got chillun?—well I is borned three head uv em, but dey all died +right now; didn't live a minute.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Then I 'dopted me a baby boy. A little bitty girl borned him, an' she +didn't want him,—he was in her way. She said she'd kill him, an' I +didn't want her to git in no trouble, so I tooken him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But sho's you bawn I is sorry I done dat t'ing,—dat nigger so +triflin', he is goin' on fourteen now, an' he ain't no help to me at +all. He only come home when he hongry, an' that's plenty often.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' dis yere husbin' whut I is got now, he 'spicions me 'bout other +men's all de time, and de boy an' him togedder, keeps ever't'ing riled +up mos'ly, twell I'll be glad effen you was to say, you need me to sleep +on your place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Go to school? Yassum I sho did. I had three months a year for three +years, and a extra month onc't, that my mammy paid for. Dat made ten +months for me. I was de forwardest chile my mammy had. When dey was any +readin' to do my mammy sont fer me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sis Kate kin turn off more work then I kin, but I can mek more cotton. +Oncet I won a contest wid a man an' made 480 pounds. Dey gimme a hundred +pounds for doin' it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me and Taylor, he's my other husband, the one that died, we used to fo' +mek bales near 'bout every year, but dis yer husband whut I got now, he +don't do nothin' but jalous me, look lak he'd know I didn' want no man, +but jes' fer company; an' dat boy I brung up, he jus' runs nights 'twell +I am jes' plumb skeered. So one night I sont for my sister's boy, she is +my dead brother's wife, an' Miss, dat rascal, he would steal my las' +dime look like. Miss he would steal de har offen your haid could he jus' +git a holt, so I jes' sont him back. I talk to him nice befo' I sont +him, but hit didn' do no good so I up an' sont him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Then Miss Nellie (she that keeps the fillin' station) tooken him an' he +stole a whole ginger ale an' a coky coly, an' she cotch him wid em. +No'am he didn't git 'em open, effen he had uv, he would uv drunk 'em +both, he would fo' sure.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' him tellin' folks he married a rich widow. Huh, Mr. Corte he say, +'Mandy you is getting yo'se'f messed for sho'.' He did so Miss, an' he +done tole de truf' fo' God, he sho did. I is sho messed up wid 'em bofe.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But Miss, hit was de bigges' cullud weddin', you ever see, an' me as +black as I is. Dey was three tables for de white folks, an' I don' know +how many cakes, an' Miss Bessie give me my marryin' dress, an' Mister +Harry he give me a dollar, an' him? O yessum, he been married befo', he +is got eight head uv chillun. His fust wife's bringin' em up, up in +Dallas County, an' him carryin' on like he is down here.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I allus wanted chillun, a house plum full of 'em, en I done los' all I +could mek, so now effen I could of had me some widout 'em I never would +of had ary husban' a tall. No'am.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me dance? No'am I is j'ined to de Church. Miss Emily she showed me some +white folks dancin' oncet, but I thought they was gettin' too closet +togedder. In my day they used to swing corners.</p> +<p class="pnext">"House parties, yassum I is served a many of em. That's what breaks you +down, though; day an' night an' day an' night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, good bye Miss, I sure do thank you for my dollar, an' my cup, an' +ever'thing. I is shore enjoyed my day wid you. Me an' you is real good +frien's now, ain't we? Hits been jes' like a partyin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now I'll be gettin' to Sis Katie's, she will mo'n likely want me to +carry her Lodge dues up. An Miss, please you ast the bus man, wid yo' +telephone, please sir wait for me jes' a minute."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="frank-menefee"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id147">Frank Menefee</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Frank Menefee</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">BROOM-STICK WEDDIN'S</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Frank Menefee of Opelika is eighty-four years old and still healthy. He +says, "Kids was brought up right in dem days but don't have no sich now, +'caze de switch was one of de best medicines ever made."</p> +<p class="pnext">He was born in Loachapoka, Alabama. His mother and father were Susan and +Monroe Menefee. They had six other children, Patsy, Sally, Lula, Mary, +Melvina, and Philmore. Susan Menefee came from Jefferson County and +Monroe from Gold Hill, Alabama, and belonged to Willis Menefee, near +Roberson's Mill.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mother's father an' mother was Milton and Patsy Footman whut come +frum Meridian, Miss., and dey paid $3500 for dem," Frank boasts.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se never seed inside a jail, never paid a nickel in council, ain't +never gwine to steal nothin' whut don't belong to me an' ain't never +used a cuss word in my life. I always tried to do whut was right an' I +plowed ever' day us could. Us cooked on dem great big fireplaces, 'bout +six feet wide an' two an' three feet deep, with pots an' kittles hangin' +out over hickory an' oak fires. Nobody better not spit in dat fireplace +neither. Sho' never was better eatin' collards dan dem. All the chillun +had a tin plate an' a tin cup with buttermilk in hit.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was whut dey called a shirt-tail fellow, had long shirt dresses of +osnaburg dyed with red mud an' cinnamon bark. In winter dey doubled de +osnaburg to be warmer. My daddy was a shoemaker. He made dem outer +cowhides an' even lef' de hair on dem sometimes. Yuther times he clean +'em in de wash-pot to git de hair offen 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had good Marsa and Mistiss, iffen you wukked an' 'haved yourse'f. +Dey was marsa Willis an' Miss Hanna Menefee. Dey jes' had two chillun +Willis an' Willie. Willie weighed two hundred pounds when he was very +young too. De 'Big House' stood in a oak grove wid one big oak tree +raght by it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Sadler, de overseer, was good, too, but you sho' had to wuk. He's +got a great-great-grandson, Sam Sadler, living now in Waverly, Alabama. +De poor white peoples 'roun' dere used to ho'p us wuk. I disremembers +our carriage driver's name but us had one dat drove Mistiss about, an' +de carriage house was close to de Big House.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marsa had seven or eight hundred acres in de plantation an' I jes' +don't know de number of slaves he did have. Dey got us up by daylight +an' 'fo'. Blowed a cockle shell to get us niggers up. Iffen you didn't +wuk, dey 'tended to you. Dey slashed one nigger an' he died nex' week. +Us plowed 'twell dark an' lots an' lots of times all night long wid a +lantern tied to front an' back of de plows. We was picking cotton all +night long too, be ready to take dat wagon to de gin by three or four +o'clock in de morning. Sometimes dey would put de slaves in chains. When +dey wuk clearing up new groun' dey had chains put 'roun' dey ankles.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-118"> +<span id="id42"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Frank Menefee" src="images/image284menefee.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Frank Menefee, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"On Sunday mornin' Mistiss would try to teach us niggers de Bible. Den +us would go to church at white church an' sit in de back wid white folks +in front. De preacher was Rev'ren Frank Hugely. Dat Sunday mornin' +breakfast sho' was good to us niggers. Us had meat, sugar, lard an' +butter. I used to love to hear dem sing. When My Soul Be Resting in de +Presence of My Lord, I'll Be Satisfied. I was baptized at eleven o'clock +by Dave Hill an' I sho' got happy. I shouted an' sung: 'I'se never drunk +no whiskey in my life.' When any of de niggers would pass on, old +Mistiss would stand over de casket and weep. Us would pull off our hats +an' marsa was nice as he could be, too. Hit was a home-made box dyed +black. Mistiss she would see to de fixin' of de shroud.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De patrollers sho' would get you an' dat's one thing made you stick to +your wuk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sadday nights us would frolic an' dance all night long iffen you +wanted to, buck-dance, sixteen-hand reel and cake walk. Dey would blow +reed quills an' have all the licker dey wanted. Mistiss, dey ain't jes' +now drinkin' licker. Oh, dem cornshuckings! Shuk corn, drink an' holler +all night long. Sometimes dey'd sing:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Dark cloud arising like gwine to rain,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Nothing but a black gal coming down the lane,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Nigger stole a pumkin an' started outer town;</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Nigger heered it thunder, Lord, an' throwed dat pumkin down.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Mistiss, I don't wanter tell you no mo' of dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us niggers ma'ied, dey didn't have no preacher. We jes' jumped +over de broom, an' went on an' lived together. Iffen a gal went wrong, +dey beat her nearly to death. Iffen you moved de place when you ma'ied, +de other marsa had to buy you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De li'l niggers had big times. Us used to play, 'Green grow the willow +tree, you swing my gal an' I swing yourn. Green grow de willow tree.' +Dey used to sceer up us niggers 'bout "Raw Head an' Bloody Bones," gwine +to ketch us dat was so sceer bad iffen us didn't mind 'em, but I ain't +never seed nor believed in ghostes. Us didn't get sick much 'caze us +didn't have no trash to eat an' Mistiss giv' us ebony of yarbs an' us +wore sacks of yarbs 'roun' our necks too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The Yankees did plenty of harm. Marsa shot at some of dem; an' dey took +off our cabin wagons. When us was freed dey singed, 'I'se gwine back to +Dixie, no more my heart to wander, never see my master no mo'.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marsa called us all up an' told us we was jes' free as him. He give us +all a suit of clo'es, some money, a mule, a cow, wagon, hog and a li'l +corn to start off on. Us moved to Dr. Lawrence Smiths near La-Fayette, +Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Later years I ma'ied Jane Drake at the cafe in Opelika, Alabama, and by +de jedge at twelve o'clock. She died, den I ma'ied Phoebe Ethen Drake. +Some says de church can't save you, but I sho' feels safer in hit, an' I +jined 'caze I wants to be better dan I was an' try to be +saved."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="isaam-morgan"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id148">Isaam Morgan</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Isaam Morgan</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Mistis, I was bawn in 1853, 'cordin' to ole Miss's Bible, near Lotts +Landing on the Alabama River." It was Isaam Morgan who spoke from his +porch at 1657 Sligo Street, Mobile, Alabama. "I made a special trip back +dar a few months back to de ole place, an' Mistis' daughter looked it up +for me 'caze I done had forgot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. James Morgan was my Massa, an' his wife, Miss Delia, was my Mistis. +My mammy's name was Ann Morgan, an' as for my pappy, I done forgot +his'n. I was raised raght dar in de white folks house, an' I had my own +special place to sleep. I was de house boy, an' when I growed older I +driv' Mistis aroun' in de Ca'iage.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us niggers lived in sho-'nuff style. Us had our regular quarters whar +us lived in white log cabins chinked wid mud, an' de slaves had built-in +beds an' a big open fireplace whar dey cooked. Us had plenty somp'n +t'eat. All us had to do was to ask for it an' de Massa done de res'. Our +rations was gib out to us eve'y Sadday. Some of de bes' food us ever had +was 'possum an' taters. Us'd go out at night wid a big sack, an' a pack +of houn's an' twarn't long befo' we done treed a 'possum. Atter we done +treed him, de dogs would stan' aroun' de tree an' bark. Iffen de tree +was small, us could shake him out. Iffen it was big, one of de niggers +hadda climb up it an' git ole Mr. 'Possum hisself.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Funny things about 'possums, Miss; de bigger dey is seem lak de littler +de tree dey picks to go up. It is sho-'nuff fun, dough, to go a trailin' +th'ough de woods atter a 'possum or coon. De coon'll give you de bes' +chase, but he ain't no good eatin' lak de 'possum. I seen a coon one +time when he was cornered bite de tip of a houn's nose off.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa Morgan sol' wood to de steam boats, an' us slaves hadda cut de +wood, an' split it up into smaller pieces. Any time a slave worked over +time or cut mo' wood dan he s'pose' to, Massa pay him money for it, caze +whenever one of us slaves seen somp'n we lak, we did jus' lak de white +folks does now. Us bought it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa never whupped none of his slaves; he jus' tole us whut to do an' +iffen we didn't do it, he'd call us to him an' he would say in his sorta +way: 'Nigger! How many mo' times is I gotta tell you to do lak you +tole?' Dat's all he would say, an' believe me Mistis, he hada a way of +lookin' at you dat made you jump. When he bought a new slave dat wasn't +use to doin' what he was tol', 'twarn't long befo' massa had him in +line.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm none of our slaves ever tried to run away. Dey all knowed dey was +well off. We didn't have no oberseer but once. He was a mean un too. He +tried to fight an' whup us slaves, an' one night six big nigger men +jumped on him an' scairt him mos' to death. Atter dat de massa wouldn't +never have no mo' oberseers. He tended to dat business hisself.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Whut we do atter we finished work? Go to bed! Dat was de onl'es' place +we was fittin' for. Us was so tired us wouldn't lie down two minutes 'fo +us was 'sleep. On some moonlight nights us was 'lowed to pick de cotton. +Den us'd git a little res' de nex' day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa an' his fambly used brass lamps an' candles for light, an' a few +of us slaves had brass lamps too, but most of de niggers used torch +lights.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of de plantations had a calaboose whar dey putt de slaves dat +wouldn't behave. Dis calaboose was built of logs fastened together wid +stout ropes an' sunk into de groun', but Massa didn't need no calaboose +to make his niggers behave.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-119"> +<span id="id43"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Isaam Morgan" src="images/image288morgan.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Isaam Morgan, Mobile, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Yassum, us had remedies for ailments. We used wild hoarhound tea for de +chills an' fever, an' sweet gum turpentine, an' mutton suet. Dey wan all +good uns too. But shucks! Warn't nothin' much ever de matter wid us +niggers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, we used rock an' cotton to start de fires on de plantation, an' +Massa had a flint lock rifle, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slaves had dere own special graveyard an' us'd make de coffins raght +on de place dar. When someone die, he was taken in a ox cart to de +grave, wid all de slaves a-walkin' 'long behine de cart singin' de +spirituals.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our clothes was made mostly outen osnaburg wove on de plantation. We +had wool clothes for de winter time dat was carded on de place. We had +shoes made by our own cobbler an' tanned on de plantation. We called +dese brogans.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de surrender, de Yankees camped near our place, an' bought aigs +f'um us. Dey offered me a hoss iffen I would go nawth wid dem, but I +jus' couldn't leave de Massa even dough I did wanted dat hoss mighty +bad. I was twenty-one years old when Massa came to me one day an' say: +'Isaam, you is a grown man now. You is got to boss your own business. +It's up to you to fin' work. I can't keep you no longer. Good luck +Isaam. You has been a good nigger, an' you is gonna make somebody a good +worker.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter I lef' Massa I worked at diff'ent jobs, sich as: loader, +roustabout on different steamboats an' cotton picker. I worked on de +<em class="italics">May Boyd</em>, <em class="italics">Lula D.</em> an' de <em class="italics">Gardner</em>. One of de ole songs sang on de +boats went somp'n lak dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">De John T. Moore</div> +<div class="line">De Lula D.</div> +<div class="line">An' all dem boats is mine</div> +<div class="line">If you can't ship on de Lula D.</div> +<div class="line">You ain't no man o' mine.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I been ma'ied three times, Mistis, an' Lawd chile I done forgot de name +of my fust wife. I guess she still livin' somewhere caze she was too +mean to die. My secon' wife was named Dora, an' she is daid. I got a +wife now name Lily. She purty good.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes maam you can take my picture, but lemme git my hat, caze I ain't +got no hair on my haid, an' I looks better wid a hat. I'se got to be +fixed up stylish."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="tony-morgan"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id149">Tony Morgan</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">From record of a conversation in 1884</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Francois L. Diard, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A SLAVE INTERVIEWS A SLAVE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">George Washington extolling the virtues of a plain, homespun +suit—granite-jawed Andrew Jackson defying the British at +Pensacola—horror and massacre at Alabama's old Fort Mims—savages +skulking near the fort, their bronzed bodies glistening in the hot +August sunlight.</p> +<p class="pnext">These were among memories of parchment-skinned Uncle Tony Morgan, who +was interviewed on Oct. 1, 1884 by Jim Thomas, another slave, and a +record of the conversation held in the files of a family in Old Mobile, +Alabama. Uncle Tony was 105 years old then.</p> +<p class="pnext">The story is told by Thomas, former slave of the Diard family. Uncle +Tony was the slave of Mobile Judge H. Toulmin, grandfather of the later +Judge H.T. Toulmin, who was appointed a judge by President Jefferson.</p> +<p class="pnext">According to Jim Thomas, Uncle Tony told him:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Did I knowed Gen'l Andrew Jackson? Lord bless you honey, why, I knowed +him and remember Gen'l George Washington afore him."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Tony explained that he accompanied General Jackson when the +war-loving Tennessean marched from Mobile against Pensacola in 1814. He +said he was serving as a wagoner, and remembered distinctly that the +British surrendered on November 6. He recalled that, during the battle, +Jackson was standing talking with a group of officers when an enemy +shell exploded near him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Move away, general," the old Negro quoted one of the officers as +saying, "they'll kill you!"</p> +<p class="pnext">And Jackson replied in a characteristic manner:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Damn 'em—I'll have 'em all in hell tomorrow!"</p> +<p class="pnext">Concerning George Washington, Uncle Tony told Jim Thomas that the great +American leader visited the town of Frankfort, Ky., and while there made +an address. He wore a home-spun suit, which he pointed out as an example +of what people might do in utilizing their products.</p> +<p class="pnext">Frankfort was highly excited when Washington arrived in the city, and +Uncle Tony told of a tiny urchin exclaiming with bitter disappointment +in his voice:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Why, Pa, he ain't nothing but a man!"</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Tony's memory of what occurred at Fort Mims was vivid, according +to Jim Thomas. The older slave related that he was one of many Negroes +in the fort at the time. He said the defenders had been sleeping off a +night of dissipation the morning William Weatherford's warriors +attacked.</p> +<p class="pnext">Men, women and children were butchered in the ensuing slaughter and the +buildings were fired. The massacre continued until noon, Uncle Tony +said, when the Indians retreated with scalps and several Negro prisoners +to their camping site, called the Holy Ground. Here, the half-starved +Negroes lived in constant dread that they would be butchered by +war-inflamed Creeks.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Tony also recalled carrying the mail from Fort Stoddert, in +Alabama, through the State and Mississippi. On several occasions he +barely escaped being scalped by Indians, he said.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old Negro related further that his father was a wagoner under +Cornwallis when that general surrendered to Washington at Yorktown.</p> +<p class="pnext">Concerning his age and birthplace, Uncle Tony told Thomas he was born +in Danville, Ky., about 1779. He went to Mobile in 1805 with Judge +Toulmin.</p> +<p class="pnext">At the time of the interview the old slave was extremely feeble and +lame, and walked with the aid of a cane. His skin was dried and +wrinkled, and cataracts on his eyes had totally deprived him of his +sight. Despite these handicaps, however, Thomas said the old man's mind +was exceptionally clear, and his recollection of events occurring almost +a century before were remarkable.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mose"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id150">Mose</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Told by Edith Tatum, Greenville, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mildred Scott Taylor, Georgiana, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">UNCLE MOSE—A TRUE STORY</em></p> +<p class="pnext">The early spring sunshine sifted through the honey-suckle vines +clustering around the cabin door, and made a network of dancing light +upon the floor. A little Negro boy sat on the steps gazing silently up +the dusty road and idly listening to the insistent buzzing of insects +hovering about the honey-suckle blooms.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Don't yer see nothin' of her yet, Jerry?" came in a querulous voice +from a bed in a corner of the cabin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Naw, Unc' Mose. She ain't in sight yit, but it's mos' time fer 'er."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hit 'pear lak dis mis'ry is er gittin' wus all de time," the voice went +on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss Sally say dat limerumunt gwine he'p it," essayed Jerry +consolingly.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It don' do no good 'cep'in jess whilst Aun' Judy is er rubbin'. De +rubbin' does mo' good dan de limerumunt."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dar she is, rat now!" exclaimed Jerry presently.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Praise de Lawd! fer de ole man sho is hongry en' got de mis'ry from his +haid to his heels."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dar's ernudder lady wid Miss Sally. Sarter looks lak er gal."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mus' be some er ole master's gran'dahters come on er visit. Whyn't yer +come an' sit some cheers out an' dus' em' an' straighten dis quilt +'stead er settin' dar lak er black patch on de sunshine? Don' yer know +how ter ack when de quality is comin'?" By the time the chairs had been +arranged to his notion the visitors were at the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Good morning, Uncle Mose," said the older woman brightly, as she put a +covered basket down on a table by the bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">She had a strong, sweet face and smooth white hair, and the gracious +dignity of a queen. "I hope you rested well last night and are feeling +very much better. I have brought some one to see you. Now guess who she +is," and she placed the girl where the sunshine fell across her face.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Mose turned his head on the pillow, and gazed eagerly at his +visitor. Then his old black face wrinkled into a smile. "Lawd, honey, +you sho' mus' be one er Mars' Eddard's dahters, frum de favor!"</p> +<p class="pnext">"You are right, Uncle Mose. It's Miss Caroline."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'm so sorry to find you in bed, Uncle Mose," said the girl, coming +closer, while Miss Sally began taking an appetizing breakfast from the +basket and putting it on the table.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Father told me not to come home without seeing Uncle Mose. He talks of +you so often."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old man beamed with pleasure. "Den Mr. Eddard's done fergive me for +not choosing him dat time," he said with a chuckle. "Did you ebber h'yar +'bout dat time I choosed mah master?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, Uncle Mose, none of your reminiscence until Jerry has given you +your breakfast. Then I know that Caroline will be delighted to hear all +about it," and Miss Sally smiled indulgently. "Here, Caroline, put these +flowers in water where Uncle Mose can see them, while I measure some +medicine for him."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat sho was er good breakfus', Miss Sally," said the old negro with a +sigh of content, as Jerry gave him the last bit of waffle. "Ole Aun' +Jincy allers was er good cook, en her ma befo' 'er. Couldn't nobody beat +Aun' Lucy cookin' in dem days. Ginger cakes? She made de bes' ginger +cakes! Miss Sally, you 'member dat time Ole Marster give me an Mars' Wat +er whole silver dollar en we walked two miles to Mars' Walter's sto' en +spent ev'ry bit er it fer ginger cakes? Er whole dollar's wuth er ginger +cakes, an' Aunt Lucy rat dar at home er cookin' de bes' ones in de +country! Mars' Wat sho was er sight!" and Mose lay looking with dim eyes +into a happy, long-vanished past.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now tell me about when you chose your master," said Caroline, drawing a +chair closer to the bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"O, dat time; I 'members dat mornin' jess lak it was yistiddy. Hit was +in the spring-time lak dis, en ole Mose was er lil' black rascal lak +Jerry dar. I was playin' roun' de cabin do' en h'yer come Jim de ke'ge +driver, en say ole Marster wanted me rat erway. I sho was skeered! But I +couldn't think o' no meanness I had done so I jess helt up mah haid en +marched up de road ter de Big House. En dar I foun' Ole Marster standin' +on de steps, en in er row on de po'ch was Mars' Eddard, en Mars' Ted, an +Mars' Wat, en Mars' Tom. 'Come h'yer Mose,' say Ole Marster in dat big +way er his'n. 'Come h'yer en choose yer marster. I'm gwine to give yer +ter de one you picks out.' I 'gan at Mars' Eddard. He was older 'en me +an' sorter se'rus lak so I passed him by. I looked at Mars' Ted er long +time sorter hes'tatin', but den I jess chanced ter look at Mars' Wat, en +dem blue eyes er his'n was fa'rly dancin' wid sump'n sorter lak ole +Nick, en I say ter mahself, 'dat's de marster fer Mose,' so I say out +loud, 'I chooses Mars' Wat,' en bress yer heart, honey, I ain' nebber +been sorry er minute sence. But de res' er Ole Marsters' boys nebber did +fergive Mose fer dat," and he chuckled at the remembrance.</p> +<p class="pnext">Caroline laughed. "Thank you, Uncle Mose, I've enjoyed hearing about it. +I must go and see Mammy now. Next time I come I hope you will be +better."</p> +<p class="pnext">"De ole man ain' had his foots ter de flo' in five weeks dis comin' +Sadd'y Miss Ca'line. Good bye, Miss Ca'line honey, come ergin."</p> +<p class="pnext">"And now, Jerry, you run tell Aunt Judy to come up at once and rub Uncle +Mose's ankles," said 'Miss' Sally as Caroline left the cabin. "I'll warm +this liniment and have it all ready." She stopped before the open +fireplace and raked up the embers into a little blazing fire, and +putting the saucer of turpentine on the floor at some distance, she +stood up and turned toward the bed. Just then a spark from the fire fell +into the saucer, and the turpentine blazed up. 'Miss' Sally, startled, +sprang back, but in so doing, her light cotton morning gown came in +contact with the blazing turpentine and was quickly ignited. She caught +up her skirts and tried to put it out with her hands, but could not. For +several seconds 'Miss' Sally stood face to face with an awful death.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My God-er-Mighty!" cried Uncle Mose, and with the agility of youth and +health he sprang from the bed dragging a blanket with him, and throwing +it around her, wrapped it close, extinguishing the flames just as Aunt +Judy and Jerry appeared in the door.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Lawd in Hebben!" cried fat Judy, her swift glance taking in Miss +Sally's white face, burned garments and helpless hands, and 'Uncle' Mose +tottering back to his bed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Po' lamb! now jess look at dem han's! Lemme tie 'em up in wet sody this +minute! You sho 'mos' got burned up, honey."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I would have, but for Uncle Mose," said 'Miss' Sally faintly, as she +sank into a chair.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Judy turned stormy eyes upon the poor groaning old man. "I'd lak +ter know how cum Unc' Mose jess foun' out he kin walk?" she inquired +belligerently. "I 'lowed some time ergo dat Mose was possumin'. I sho +ain' gwine to waste mo' elbo' grease on dat old hyp'crite."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hush, Judy," said her mistress sternly, "Uncle Mose is no hypocrite. He +has inflammatory rheumatism. It was a miracle," she added reverently.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dat's hit!" exclaimed Mose, eagerly. "Er miracle! Hit was de +Lawd-er-Mighty let Mose git up den. Fer how you reckon I'd eber face +Mars' Wat ergin' ef I had to tell him I jess lay in de baid en let my +lil' mistress burn up? Mose done promus Mars' Wat ter tek keer er Miss +Sally, an' ole man done de bes' he could."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sally-murphy"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id151">Sally Murphy</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Sally Murphy</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Lee County, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SLAVERY WAS ALL RIGHT IN ITS PLACE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">When I was looking for Sally Murphy, I went into a clean, four room +cabin and found a small, neat Negro woman.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Are you Sally Murphy?" I asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'm sho' is, honey, and who is you? Lawdy chile, you knows I know Mr. +Pompy (my father). She laughed. "I'll tell you anything I knows.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was jes' 'bout ten years come slavery done. I was borned down on de +Clayton place at Smith's Corners. My pappy he come from South Car'lina, +where his pappy was sold. He name was Calop and my mammy was Hannah +Clayton. There was eight of us chillun. Fred, Silas, Calop, Mary, +Dolphus, Dora, Lula and me. Us all lived down in de quarters, which was +five log houses, daubed wid mud. Dem logs was big ones, hand-hewed, and +de fireplaces was big, too. Us went to de fiel's early in de morning and +picked us a mess of young hick'ry and oak leaves to scald and cook in de +pot wid meat. Dey made good greens and us had poke salad, too. (Made +from the leaves of the pokeberry).</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dey dried de fruit us would cook our kind of fruit cake. I don't +recollect what went in it. Dere was plenty though. Mistis had de fruit +dried on tins in de yard, and at twelve o'clock every day all hands went +to de house and turned de fruit.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our beds was homemade, scaffold bedsteads wid ropes wove acrost de top +what could tighten up. Sometimes us had homewove bedspreads on de beds +most every day, but in gen'ally dat was for Sunday only.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our menfolks used to hunt possums and wild turkeys, but dey didn't mess +'roun' none wid rabbits. They didn't waste time on fishing either.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ev'y morning in May Mistis would call us little niggers to de house +and ev'y other morning give us oil and turpentine. We made our own cloth +for clothes. Our mammies wove us long drawers outen cotton. Dey bought +wool and flannelet to make us pantalets. Us wore homemade homespun +dresses. Some of hit was dyed and some checked. Us had shoes reg'lar in +winter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Marster Joe and Miss Rosa Clayton was good as gold. Dey had Sara, +Jane, Henry, and Joe. De live in a big, two story house wid six rooms to +hit and had a brick kitchen off from de house out in de yard. Ole +Marster had a big plantation and his two aunties live dere, too. Dey was +Miss Easter and Miss Charlotte.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slave women folks what had chilluns was 'lowed to go home half hour +by de sun to wash ev'y day, and ev'y Sunday morning all de little +chillun had to be washed and carried to de Big House for de Mistis to +inspect 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us mostly stayed at home and didn't go 'bout none, and effen us went to +Mt. Jefferson Church us had to have a pass or de paterollers would sho' +git you. I did think dat 'Hark from the tomb in doleful sound, how +careful, how careful den ought I to live, wid what religious fear' was +de prettiest thing, and I sho' did love to hear dem sing hit. I never +seed de baptising, 'ca'se I used to go to de 'Piscopal Church wid Mistis +and open gates and hold de hosses. I sot in de foot of her carriage.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Christmas dey'd give us provisions and de chillun some trash (meaning +toys). Dey sho' had good times on moonlight nights at de cornshuckings. +Dey would haul de corn from de fields and put it in a big ring, and as +dey shucked dey would throw it in ring and den into de crib. Sometimes +dey was so much corn it would stay on de ground 'twell it rotted.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Dickey Williams' mother, Miss Emily, ma'ied while us was dere and +my grandma cooked de cake. My daddy made de cake stand. Hit had three +tiers, each one full of little cakes wid de big cake on top. Hit sho' +was pretty.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey let de little niggers have all de fun dey wanted. Us played jump +rope and swung in de grapevine swings mostly. Den us had rag dolls. When +any of us got sick, we was give hoarhound tea and rock candy. Sometimes +effen dey wasn't looking and us got a chance us spit it out. Dey got de +doctor effen us needed it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One of our Marsters was killed in de war and brought home and buried. +He was Mr. Joe. All de silver was hid out enduring de war but de sojers +never did come to our house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day my daddy says, 'Hannah, Marster said us is free now to do what +we want to do.' But us stayed on two years mo'. In a few years I ma'ied +Milton Heard and had a calico wedding dress and Judge Reed ma'ied us in +Opelika in de ole plank court house. I didn't have no chillun and I +lives now wid my niece, Sally Thomas.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know what I think 'bout Abraham Lincoln. I don't know nothing +'bout him. Slavery was all right in its place, I guess, 'ca'se some +needed it to make 'em work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Folks get so sinful I thought I was safest in de church. I believe God +intended for us all to be religious."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="hattie-anne-nettles"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id152">Hattie Anne Nettles</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Hattie Anne Nettles</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DRUMS BEATING AND FIFES BLOWING</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey was sad times, honey; all de people was goin' to war wid de drums +beatin' all aroun' and de fifes blowin.'"</p> +<p class="pnext">Hattie Anne Nettles looks younger than her eighty years, but she +remembers climbing a fence to watch gray-clad soldiers of the +Confederacy marching toward the front. She also remembers a few details +about slavery, although she was only a child at the time.</p> +<p class="pnext">Hattie was born in Tallapoosa, Ga. Her father and mother were Archie and +Matilda Benson. She had eight brothers and sisters; Charlie, George, +Abraham, Mose, Lucinda, Mandy, Margaret and Queenie.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had corded beds in dem times," she said, "an' dey was screwed in de +corners to tighten 'em. Our cookin' was simple, too. Us used a griddle +hoe to cook on de big fireplaces.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our dresses was homespun cloth dyed wid indigo, an' us didn't have very +many clothes. But us kept plenty warm in de winter; an' in de hot +summers us didn't need mor'n a thin li'l ol' dress."</p> +<p class="pnext">Hattie called her master "a good Christian-hearted man who did de bes' +he could for de niggers."</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members," she said, "dat all de chilluns was good, too, 'ceptin' two +of de boys. Dey was bad uns for sho' an' was arguin' an' fightin' all de +time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, Ol' Marster sho'ly did lak to sing, an' he was pretty good at +dat. I 'members dat he useter git out in de back an' sing to de top of +his voice: 'I'se Gwine Home to Die No More.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"What I 'members most, dough, was de quiltin's an' spinnin' frolics dat +de women-folks had. Den, on Sattidy nights, dere was Sattidy night +suppers an' dances. All de peoples sho'ly did cut de high step at de +dances."</p> +<p class="pnext">Hattie beamed as the trend of conversation turned to Christmas on +Southern plantations.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-120"> +<span id="id44"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Hattie Anne Nettles" src="images/image303nettles.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Hattie Anne Nettles, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Dat was a time!" she exclaimed. "Us had to go to mornin' prayer, but +atter dat us went back to de cabins, dressed in our Sunday bes', an' +went up to de 'Big House' fer some foolishness. An' it was sho'ly real +foolishness, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I was growed up I married Bill Lockhart an' us had fifteen +chilluns an' eight gran'chilluns. In de ol' days niggers axed de white +marster for de bride an' no license was needed. Iffen dey lef' de +plantation, de other white marster bought 'em so de girl could go wid +her man.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our ol' marster was as good as he could be like I done tol' you. He +looked atter de slaves when dey got sick an' sont for de doctor. In dem +days dey would draw blood. Dey would draw almos' a quart from de body, +an' you usually got well, too."</p> +<p class="pnext">Hattie recalled one night of terror on the plantation when the Ku Klux +Klan raided a prayer meeting where a large number of Negroes had +congregated.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Klansmen beat up lots of dem," she said. "If a nigger didn't behave, +dey'd nigh 'bout kill him."</p> +<p class="pnext">Hattie lives in Opelika with a daughter. Flowers dot her clean yard and +her old days are full of happiness.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="w-e-northcross"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id153">W.E. Northcross</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Autobiography of Reverend W.E. Northcross, 1897</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Levi D. Shelby, Jr. (Colored), Tuscumbia, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">(Chapter 1—How Reared)</p> +<p class="pnext">I was born a slave in 1840, in Colbert County, Alabama. Education was +denied me, hence I grew up in ignorance. My mother and father were +carried from me when I was only nine years old, but as soon as chance +presented itself I ran away and went to them. My white people brought me +back, and as they were not cruel to their slaves they did not "buck" me. +I stayed with them until I was fifteen summers old. During this time my +mistress made all the children, both girls and boys, come to her every +Sunday, and she taught Sunday School. The book used was the old +fashioned Catechism.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Jesus keep me near the cross,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">There's a precious fountain,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Free to all, a healing stream,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Flows from Calvary's mountain.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">It was against the law for them to learn to read and write, so she +taught them the Lord's prayer and a few other things in the book. She +said that she wanted them to know how to pray, how to tell the truth and +not to steal, and always try to do right in the sight of everybody and +in the sight of God. With these influences, I confessed a hope in Christ +at the age of thirteen years.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Am I a soldier of the cross,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">A follower of the lamb,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">And shall I fear to own his cause,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Or blush to speak his name?</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">When she did not teach herself, she had an adopted girl to do the same. +Finally the adopted girl married and moved to the farm where I was born, +the farm from which I ran away. About this time, I was twenty years old. +I felt that there was something for me to do. I began to lead prayer +meetings. Still I felt that there was more for me to do.</p> +<p class="pnext">(Chapter 2—Entering The Ministry)</p> +<p class="pnext">I felt sure that I was called to preach, though "unlearned and +ignorant." I trembled at the thought of preaching the gospel, but +something seemed to push me forward in that direction. So I asked the +people to let me preach. This request was granted. The people at that +time had no place or house of worship. I began to fast and pray night +and day. Being "unlearned and ignorant" (Acts 4:13) my heart silently +murmured—</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Bread of heaven, bread of heaven,</div> +<div class="line">Feed me till I want no more.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">This was the only school I attended, both day and night. At this time I +did not know "A" from "B," but I met a man who could read a little. This +man liked me and promised to teach me how to read, provided I would keep +it a secret. This I gladly promised to do.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">I am weak, Thou art mighty,</div> +<div class="line">Hold me with Thy powerful hand.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">I secured a blue-back speller and went out on the mountain every Sunday +to meet this gentleman, to be taught. I would stay on the mountain all +day Sunday without food. I continued this way for a year and succeeded +well. I hired my own time and with my blue-back speller went to the +mountain to have this man teach me. The mountain was the great school +which I attended. I went from there to the blacksmith shop to work. From +that place I was captured by the Yankees and carried to war. As I was +crippled I was allowed to remain in the commissary department for about +six months. While we were at camp at Athens, Alabama General Forest came +upon us and defeated, captured, and killed until they were almost +literally wiped out of existence. I had been kind to some little white +children, by which I had won their love, and of course, the love of +their parents, and stayed with them three days during the battle. I came +to a river and turned aside to a farm from which all the people had gone +to save themselves from the war, I got a man to help reach an island +where I worked three days without anything to eat except grapes and +muscadines. I preferred to die on the island than to be killed by the +soldiers. Therefore, in time of danger, I rushed to this house and the +good people hid me and changed my clothes. Hence, when I was found I was +taken for one of the gentleman's slaves. When I was permitted by the man +to try to return to LaGrange, and had gone some distance, I was caught +by deserters from the Southern army, who voted to shoot me. They bound +me and kept me overnight, intending to do away with me the next day. It +was a lonely desert on the Tennessee river. I could not sleep, so all +night I prayed to God, and the wives of the men prayed to God for the +poor "nigger," and also prayed to their cruel husbands. Their prayers +prevailed, and I was robbed and let go. I had vowed not to reveal their +whereabouts. I left loving God and believing in his providence as I had +never believed before.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Earth has no sorrow that</div> +<div class="line">Heaven cannot heal.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">I went home and got another spelling-book, although it was not allowed. +Some of my own people told my master that I had a book trying to read. +He sent for me to come to the house. I obeyed, though I dreaded to meet +him, not knowing what the consequence would be. But his heart had been +touched by Divine power and he simply told me that he heard that I had a +book, and if I was caught with it I would be hung. So I thanked him and +departed. Notwithstanding my master's counsel I thirsted for knowledge +and got some old boards and carried them to my house to make a light by +which I could see how to read. I would shut the doors, put one end of a +board into the fire, and proceed to study; but whenever I heard the dogs +barking I would throw my book under the bed and peep and listen to see +what was up. If no one was near I would crawl under the bed, get my +book, come out, lie flat on my stomach, and proceed to study until the +dogs would again disturb me. I did this for many nights. I continued in +this way to try to learn to spell and read as best I could.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Blessed are they who hunger and thirst after righteousness,</div> +<div class="line">for they shall be filled.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">I, like the Ethiopian, wanted a guide. I moved to Mrs. McReynold's. God +bless her! She gave me a lesson every night for a period of four years. +Then I went to my old master's brother, whose wife helped me every night +as long as I would go to her for help. Rev. Shackleford (white) greatly +aided me for a period of three years.</p> +<p class="pnext">Boys and girls, grasp these golden opportunities which are now extended +you from the school room. "Unlearned and ignorant" as I was I came along +that way until the present time. My readers have better chances than I +had. So I hope that they will make good use of their time and make my +heart feel glad to see them setting their marks high and preparing +themselves for the Great Beyond where all must go. Thither all nations +will be called before the mighty judgment seat of the Ruler of the +universe to give an account for the deeds done in this world. My prayer +for the reader is, that they may make strong, useful, wise and Christian +men and women, and at the end of time meet their God in peace.</p> +<p class="pnext">(Chapter 3—My Work)</p> +<p class="pnext">I will endeaver, in this chapter, to tell something about my works and +whereabouts. I was ordained to the gospel ministry in 1867 by Rev. Mr. +Slater (white), and Rev. Henry Bynum. Rev. Stephens Coleman and Rev. +Henry Bynum, aided by Dr. Joseph Shackleford (white) laid down the +foundation stones for the colored Baptist churches in Morgan, Franklin, +Colbert, Lauderdale, and Lawrence counties, Alabama. I am now pastor of +the First Baptist Church, at Tuscumbia, Alabama, which is the best Negro +edifice in North Alabama. This church was organized thirty-five years +ago, by me, with seventy-five members, but it now had a membership of +nine hundred. I have pastored it for lo! these many years. This church +is an excellent brick edifice. A few other brethren and myself organized +the Muscle Shoals Baptist Association—one of the oldest and largest +associations in Alabama. I have been Moderator for four years and its +Treasurer for six years. I built the church at Russellville, Alabama, +and pastored it for four years, and then ordained Bro. P. Jones and +recommended him as pastor. I built the Barten church and pastored it for +a period of fifteen years, after which I recommended Rev. James Hampton +there as pastor. I pastored the Cherokee church five years, ordained +Bro. Dennis Jackson and recommended him there as pastor. I pastored +Liberty Baptist church for three years, ordained Bro. Alex Brown and +recommended him there as pastor. I served Iuka, Mississippi for five +years and then recommended a Brother from the West, who belonged to the +Mt. Olive Association, to it. I built up the Sheffield church, pastored +it three years and then recommended Bro. G.B. Johnson there as shepherd. +I also built up Mt. Moriah church at Prides, Alabama. I frequently +uttered these words:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Where Jesus leads me I will follow</div> +<div class="line">and his footsteps I'll pursue.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">I organized St. Paul church (Colbert County) and pastored it for two +years. Rev. E.C. White, who is now Assistant Moderator of the Muscle +Shoals Association, was ordained by me. I have ordained more than twenty +preachers to the gospel ministry, baptized six thousand persons, united +in marriage five thousand couples, and buried about seven thousand +persons. I have been faithful to every charge.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Hark the voice of Jesus calling,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Who will and work today?</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Fields are white and harvest waiting,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Who will bear the sheaves away?</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">I have never left the old land mark. Not an one of the churches which +I have pastored has brought a charge against me.</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">The deepest secrets of our hearts</div> +<div class="line">shall shortly be made known.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">I have been married three times and have known no woman but my wife, +"though unlearned and ignorant." I have never had but one "fuss" with my +wife. I told her at one time to hush and she failed to do so, then I +slapped her, after which I went to the Lord in prayer and asked to be +forgiven. I regret very much indeed to inform the world in print that I +have been drunk from intoxicating liquors twice, which was before I +professed religion. Notwithstanding I have ever held up temperance and +aimed to keep it high until Shiloh comes to gather up his jewels. The +following recommendation will show what the best people of Tuscumbia +think of me:</p> +<p class="pnext right smaller">Tuscumbia, Ala., March 13, 1897</p> +<!-- --> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">To whom it may concern:—</p> +<p class="pnext">We take pleasure in stating that we have known the bearer +of this letter, Rev. Wilson Northcross for a number of years, +and that he is a conscientious, intelligent colored man of +good character. He has been pastor of the Missionary Baptist +Church of this place since the war, having been instrumental +in building the church, and always has made a good citizen. +We believe him in every way worthy of the respect and confidence +of his people.</p> +</div></blockquote> +<div class="line-block noindent outermost right smaller"> +<div class="line">Fox Delony, Judge of Probate</div> +<div class="line">Jas. H. Simpson, Circuit Clerk</div> +<div class="line">Chas. A. Simpson, Deputy Clerk</div> +<div class="line">W.H. Sawtelle</div> +<div class="line">Max Lueddemann</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">The following resolution was adopted by the church which I pastored +thirty years:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<p class="pfirst">Resolved, That Rev. W.E. Northcross, our pastor, is a good, +moral, Christian man. He has been our pastor for thirty +years, and we can truthfully say that he teaches in all +things by example as well as by precept.</p> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst smaller">--TUSCUMBIA MISSIONARY BAPTIST CHURCH</p> +<p class="pnext">The history of this church has undergone many changes, but they all +worked for its betterment. At the close of the Civil war the few members +went from brush arbor to brush arbor for three years. Then they held +services in gin houses and under shelters for two years and six months. +Then as the church was growing rapidly, they thought best to draw out, +buy a lot, and build to themselves. So they bought a lot for what they +paid fifty dollars ($50.) and erected a five hundred dollars ($500.) +building thereon in which to worship the Lord. So the church continued +to grow until it now has a membership of nine-hundred, a splendid brick +edifice worth about six thousand dollars ($6,000.) and a thriving +congregation. The church has never had but one pastor, and I have been +as faithful as a clock. Through me (Rev. W.E. Northcross) the church was +built, and I have ever since held high the Baptist doctrine throughout +North Alabama.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="wade-owens"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id154">Wade Owens</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Wade Owens</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">WADE OWENS HEARD ABE LINCOLN SPEAK</em></p> +<p class="pnext">The Reverend Wade Owens of Opelika was born in Loachapoka, Alabama, in +1863 and just missed slavery, but he has heard his homefolks talk so +much about freeing the Negroes, he feels as if he was grown then. His +mother and father, Wade and Hannah Owens, came from Virginia and moved +into "Jenks Quarters" on the Berry Owens place. They had several +children, Wade, Nettie, Chance, Anderson and Iowa. Wade used to help +drive up the cows. This cabin was of logs, mud and sticks with leaf and +mud chimneys and slab floors. The beds fitted into the wall with plank +sides, two posts with planks nailed on top, resembling tables. A box +served as a dresser.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All ash-cakes were cooked on poplar an' chestnut leaves, when dey +roasted taters," Wade says. "Us chillun used to go early in de mornin' +an' lick de honey offen de leaves for sweets den. Us didn't wear nothin' +but our long shirts, an' us had homemade hats and brogans, hard as +bricks with brass caps on de toes. I thought dey was de prettiest things +I ever seed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marsa Berry an' Miss Fanny Owens was good to us niggers. My daddy was +de carriage driver for Miss Fanny, but take keer of dat man Ben Boddy, +the overseer. He was de meanes' man God ever put life in. He wouldn't +let us have no fire, matter not how cold, us had to work jes' de same or +de nigger hounds 'ud sho' get you. Iffen not dog caught, dey would beat +you to death nearly. He was so mean marsa run him off. Dey blew de +risin' horn an' us worked from daylight 'twell dark or frum can to +can't.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marsa had a pretty two-story log house, big columns an' big porch. He +had 'bout two or three hundred acres an' worked 'bout three hundred +slaves. Us had a jail an' locked runaways in hit. Brother Lockhart used +to preach to us niggers in de white church at Lebanon an' us walked to +hit.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My daddy was sold fer $160. When dey put chains on de niggers dey was +put 'roun' de legs and arms an' to a post. Dey took pains to ho'p my +mammy an' pappy to learn. Dey would teach de Bible to 'em too. Marsa +used to sing dem good ole songs, 'My heart frum de tomb, a doleful +sound. My ears attend to cry,' and 'Amazing grace how sweet it sounds.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"At baptising dey'd give de water invitation an' den go in water. An' +didn't dey come out happy, shouting and praying? Ol' man Buck could hear +dem two miles off, but hit was a glorious baptising.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All de hands stopped when dey was a funeral an' didn't work no mo' +'till de body was buried. All de whites would go too. Dey would make de +boxes, pour hot water over de plank to shape it up into a casket, den +take turpentine an' smut to paint it. Den another big time, settin' up +wid de dead, sing, shout an' holler an' try to preach.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De patrollers would come to de colored frolic, an' one time a han' +slipped off an', gentlemen, didn't he give 'em trouble to ketch him, an' +dey didn't. When dey had dem Saddy night frolics an' dance all night +long an' nearly day when hit was goin, dey would turn de pot upside down +in de floor to hold de soun' in. My daddy pick de banjo. At de +cornshuckings dey'd sing 'All 'Roun' de Corn Pile Sally,' an' dey had +whiskey an' gin. Us had good time on Chris'mas, give us toys, syrup +candy, light bread an' grape wine.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My brother married up at de Big House an' dey giv' him a big dance an' +marsa made me drunk. 'Twas fust one den t'other giv' it to me an' +knocked me out. Dey had de preacher an' didn't jump de broom. Dey had de +preacher so would be tied good. Dey would tell us chillun all kinds of +ghos' stories 'bout witches gittin' outter dey skins. Us had free +jumping grapevine ropes an' mumble peg. One night I was at Notasulga an' +I heerd some singing. I stopped an' hit was right at my feet an' would +go futher off. I took out wid hit an' hit kept stoppin' an' startin' off +ag'in 'twell hit giv' out entirely. I looked to see where I was an' I +was at de cemetery an' nothin' didn't bother me neither. I eased out an' +shut de gate an' never foun' whut carried me dere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us 'ud git sick, dey would bleed you, stick somp'n in your arm and +draw de blood. Den dey would giv' us scurry grass and fever weed. +Bone-set was use' as teas for colds an' fever to sweat you. An' hit sho' +would sweat you, too. Marsa said war was comin' an' thought hit was to +free us. Pappy went to war with young marsa an' stayed 'twell he got +killed.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-121"> +<span id="rev-wade-owens"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Rev. Wade Owens" src="images/image312owens.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Rev. Wade Owens, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Dey hid de carriage horses, meat, silver an' plates. Yankees asked +iffen marsa was good, an' us said yes. Dey searched de smokehouse an' +some scraps no good an' nothin' but scrappy horses so dey didn't bother +a thing. Us stayed one year an' worked on one-eighth farm. The Ku Klux +Klan was turrible. One John Lyons would cut off a woman's breast an' a +man's ear or thumb.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter I got growed I married Leila Benford at Mr. Lockhart's house, an' +us had a nice little frolic, wid cake, syrup pudding an' wine. It was a +fine night wid me, 'caze all kissed de bride. Us had fourteen children, +jes' eight living, Minnie, Wade, Robert, Walter, Viola, Joe, Jim and +Johnnie, an' ten grand-chilun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I heered Abraham Lincoln speak once at Chicaumaugee Mountain an' he +said 'For people, by people, and through people.' I always 'membered +dat. I jined de church 'caze I got converted."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="molly-parker"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id155">Molly Parker</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Molly Parker</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HE WAS A GOOD OVERSEER AND TREATED SLAVES RIGHT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Down in lower Lee County I found Molly Parker, an old acquaintance, +ailing, and with the wandering mind of the aged. She could find answers +to some of my questions, but some she couldn't get straight. She was +just as clean and neat as she had always been, clad in an apron dress +that she would call a "Mother Huggard."</p> +<p class="pnext">Molly is eighty-five years old and lives with her sister Edna in a +simple cabin, with a little patch of flowers between it and the field +where Edna is still young enough to work. Molly was a housewife's +treasure in the days gone by, but now she is too feeble to do more than +work her little patch of flowers.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-122"> +<span id="id45"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Molly Parker" src="images/image315parker.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Molly Parker, Lee County, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">She was born in Virginia but was brought to Alabama when a child and +sold to a Mr. Dunn, near Salem. Her mother and father were John and +Fanny, the parents of four children, Molly, Edna, Sam and Albert.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was a big size housegirl, but I sho' could work," Molly recalled. +"Mr. Digby blowed a big bugle early every morning to get us all up and +going by bright light. Mr. Digby was a good overseer and treated all de +slaves de best he knew how.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Dick Parker on a Sunday and dey fixed us a big dinner wid +more good things to eat, but I was too happy to eat much myself. I ain't +had no chillun of my own, but I ho'ped mammy with hern.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Yankees done camped nigh our house, and I had to help cook and tote +de grub down to 'em. Us read in de free paper 'bout us being free. Massa +didn't tell us nothing, but us stayed on for a long time atter dat. +Massa had a passel of slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes'm, I'se a member of de church. Why I jined? Jest for protection, I +reckon.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'd hate to see slavery time ag'in, 'cause hit sho' was bad for some of +de niggers, but us fared good though."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lindy-patton"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id156">Lindy Patton</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lindy Patton</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Alice S. Barton, Eutaw, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">FIFTY YEARS IN DE PO' HOUSE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"White folks," said Lindy Patton, from a chair in the Greene County Poor +House. "I was born in 1841 an' it taken me fifty years to git to de po' +house. Now I is got jus' fo' mo' years to make it an' even fifty dat I +been dere. I hopes I makes de grade, caze dat would be some sorta rec'd +wouldn't it? Fifty years in de po' house.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-123"> +<span id="id46"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Lindy Patton" src="images/image317patton.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Lindy Patton, [TR: Eutaw], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I wukked in de fiel's an' I worked hard all day long. De white folks +useta gimme de clothes of de lil' white chilluns. I was born in +Knoxville, Alabama, in Greene County, an' I belonged to Massa Bill +Patton. I remembers a slave on our plantation dat was always arunnin' +away. De Massa try beatin' him but dat didn't do no good. Dat nigger +would run away in spite of nothin' they could do. One day de massa +decided he was goin' to take de nigger to Mobile an' swap him for +anudder one. De Misstis tol' him to leave de ole fool alone, said it +warn't worth the trouble. Well, de massa started out to Mobile wid de +nigger, an' when de got dere an' de train stop, de nigger, he lit out +an' de massa runned right behine him. Dey musta runned a mile or mo' +till finally de Massa he gib out an' let de nigger go. Two days later de +massa he died f'm a-chasin' dat low down burr head.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, de white folks didn't teach us to read or write. White folks, I +can't hardly count none at all. We didn't have no church on dat place +neither. We jus' went along wid de massa an' sot in de back. I ain't +never ma'ied, an' I ain't never goin' to."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="simon-phillips"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id157">Simon Phillips</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Simon Phillips</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">J. Morgan Smith</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">EX-SLAVE LEADER RECALLS OLD DAYS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Simon Phillips, ex-slave, at 90 years is still as clear-thinking as a +young man, and a leader among the oldsters of his race in Birmingham and +Alabama. He has been for the past twenty-three years president of the +union of ex-slaves which is composed of 1,500 Negroes scattered +throughout Alabama. He is the only one of the Birmingham organizers of +the society living today and though one of the oldest of his group, he +shows but few signs of decrepitude. He walks with the aid of a hickory +cane which has been in his possession for almost a half century, and his +memory is not only accurate but vivid. His physical activity is shown by +the fact that he had already spaded his garden and tiny stalks had +pushed themselves above the ground on a plot of earth, covering +approximately seventy-five yards square, on the Spring morning when he +took "a little time off" to talk of the past.</p> +<p class="pnext">Well does he recall the days when, under Alabama skies in the 1860's, he +curried his master's fine carriage horses; the times old Aunt Hannah +cured him of "achin's" with vegetable and root herbs; the nights he +spent in the slave quarters singing spirituals with his family.</p> +<p class="pnext">Simon Phillips was one of 300 Negroes belonging to Bryant Watkins, a +planter of Greensboro, Alabama. He was a house man, which means that he +mixed the drinks, opened the carriage doors, brought refreshments on the +porch to guests, saw that the carriage was always in the best of +condition and tended the front lawn. When asked about slave days, he +gets a far-away expression in his eyes; an expression of tranquil joy.</p> +<p class="pnext">"People," he says, "has the wrong idea of slave days. We was treated +good. My massa never laid a hand on me durin' the whole time I was wid +him. He scolded me once for not bringin' him a drink when I was supposed +to, but he never whup me."</p> +<p class="pnext">The old slave added that every plantation had a still and there was much +brandy, but he rarely ever saw a drunk man. He says that when the men +felt themselves becoming intoxicated, they would go home and lie down; +now, he says, they go home and fall down.</p> +<p class="pnext">The plantation on which Simon lived was seven miles long and three miles +wide. When luncheon was served, the Negroes far off in the bottom lands +had their food brought to them by the trash gang (boys and women) while +those in the nearer cotton fields ate in a large mess hall. The food +consisted of turnip greens, meat, peas, crackling bread and syrup, and +plenty of it. "Not since those days," he states, "have I had such good +food."</p> +<p class="pnext">"What about the marriage situation, Simon?" he was asked. "How did you +go about getting a wife?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, nigger jus' go to the massa and tell him that there's a gal over +in Cap'n Smith's place that he want for a wife, if she happen to be +there. Then the massa go to Cap'n Smith and offer to buy her. Maybe he +do and maybe he don't. It depend on whether the Cap'n will sell her, and +iffen she a good strong, healthy nigger. Niggers was bought mostly like +hosses. I was too young to have me a wife when I was wid de massa, but I +got me one later on after the war."</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-124"> +<span id="id47"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Simon Phillips" src="images/image318phillips.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Simon Phillips, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">During the War between the States, Simon served as body guard for John +Edward Watkins, son of the plantation owner. Body guards went with +their owners and cleaned the guns, kept the camp in order and did some +cooking. Simon entered the war at the age of fourteen in Joe Wheeler's +51st cavalry. He distinctly recalls the time he stood within ten feet of +the great general while he was making a speech.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sometimes slaves were parted from their families, because when one +planter bought a Negro from another planter, he did not necessarily buy +his wife or children, or husband, as the case might be. The slaves were +advertised around and put on a block to stand while they were auctioned. +Women invariably brought more than men. He was asked, "about overseers, +Simon. What sort of men were they?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well," he answered, "some was mighty mean. When the massa be away, they +tried to think up things to whup us for. But when the massa around, had +he catch 'em gettin' ready for to beat a slave, he say, 'don't cut no +blood from that Nigger!'"</p> +<p class="pnext">Born in Hale County in 1847, Simon Phillips stayed with his master until +1886 at which time he went to live in Tuscaloosa to earn 17¢ a day, but +he says he fared better on it than on three dollars now.</p> +<p class="pnext">After the war many Negroes stayed with their masters and he remembers +that some of the carpetbaggers came through his plantation and tried to +make the ex-slaves stake off the land, saying that half of it belonged +to them.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day," says Simon, "a few niggers was stickin' sticks in the ground +when the massa come up.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'What you Niggers doin'?' he asked.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'We is stakin' off de land, massa. The Yankees say half of it is +ourn.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"The massa never got mad. He jus' look calm like.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Listen, niggers' he says, 'what's mine is mine, and what's yours is +yours. You are just as free as I and the missus, but don't go foolin' +around my land. I've tried to be a good master to you. I have never been +unfair. Now if you wants to stay, you are welcome to work for me. I'll +pay you one third the crops you raise. But if you wants to go, you sees +the gate.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"The massa never have no more trouble. Them niggers jus' stays right +there and works. Sometime they loaned the massa money when he was hard +pushed. Most of 'em died on the old grounds. I was the youngest of a +family of sixteen and I has one sister still livin' on the old +plantation. I'm going down to see her next week, 'cause I can never tell +when the Great Master is goin' to call. We's gotta be ready when he +does, and both us is gettin' mighty old. I wanta be sure and see her and +the old place once more."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="roxy-pitts"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id158">Roxy Pitts</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Roxy Pitts</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">ROXY PITTS RECALLS CHILDHOOD</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't know 'zackly whar I was born," said Aunt Roxy Pitts, "but it +was summuz 'roun Youngsboro, Alabama, en it was in 1855, fo' de wah +started, dat Ole Marster said I was born. How ole dat make me? +Eighty-two, gwine on eighty-t'ree? Dat's right, en I be eighty-t'ree +year ole dis time nex' year, iffen I lives.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I goes to church putty reg'lar, iffen it don't rain; coz de +rain makes de mizry in my hip en lays me up. I belongs to de Baptis' +church en was baptize wid Jesus when I was twelve year ole. I'se a +foot-washin' Baptis', I is, but dey ain't none of dem kind er Baptis' +'roun' here, en I jes goes wid de udder Baptis' en sets in de amen +corner, en iffen I wants to shout, I shouts, en nobody ain't gonner stop +me, bless the Lord!</p> +<p class="pnext">"My fu'st marster was name Sam Jones, but I don't 'member him. My udder +marster, de one what I 'members, was name Sam Peg, en us lived clost to +a little town name Limekiln. My mammy was part Injun, en Ole marster +cudden' keep her home ner workin' needer; she alluz runnin' off an stay +out in de woods all night long. When I was a little gal, she runned off +ag'in en lef' a teeny little baby, en nebber did come back no mo'. Dey +said she gone whar de Injuns is. Dat was atter de wah, en pappy had to +raise dat little bitsy baby hisse'f. He tuk it en me to de fiel' whar he +workin', en kep' a bottle of sweeten water in he shirt to keep warm to +gib de baby when it cry. Den Pappy he mai'ed Aunt Josie en dey had er +whole passel er chilluns, en dey was my brudders en sisters.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Member 'bout de wah? Sho', I 'members 'bout de wah; but us don't hab +no wah whar us was. Ole Marster got kilt in Virginny, dey said, en he +didn't nebber come back home, en dem what did come back was all crippled +up an hurt. Us didn't see no Yankees 'twel dey come along atter de wah +was gone, en dey tuk Ole Mistis' good hosses en lef' some po' ole mules, +en dey tuk all us's co'n en didn't lef' us nuddin' to eat in de +smokehouse. Dey runned off all de chickens dey cudden ketch, en jes' fo' +dey lef', de ole rooster flewed up on de fence 'hine de orchard en crow: +'IS-DE-YANKEES-G-O-N-E-E'? En de guinea settin' on de lot fence, say: +'Not Yit, Not Yit,' en de ole drake what was hid under de house, he say: +'Hush-h-h, Hush-h-h.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us chilluns sho was misch'us. One time, atter a big rain, us foun' two +hens swimmin' aroun' in de tater house, en us tuk en helt em under de +water twel' dey's done drownded dead, en we tuk 'em to Mammy en she +cooked 'em in a pot en shot de kitchen do'. When dem chickens got done, +us went under de flo' en riz up a plank en got in de kitchen en stole +one ob dem chickens outen de pot en et it smack up. When Mammy foun' dat +chicken gone, she tuk er brush broom an wo' us plum out. But us didn't +keer; de brush broom didn't hurt nigh lak de chickens taste good." Aunt +Roxy nodded her head and rocked back and forth, as if she enjoyed +recalling those youthful escapades.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I kin see plenty good enough to sew, cep'n' I can't tread de +needle, en I has to keep atter dese triflin' chilluns to he'p me. You +see dis quilt I'se piecin! Miss Lucy gwine gib me tree dollars fer it, +coz she say it be made right, en dat's de way I makes em. Miss Lucy know +she got er good quilt, when I gits t'ru wid it."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Is yer got enny snuff, Missy? You don't dip snuff! No'me, I didn't tink +you did."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="carrie-pollard"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id159">Carrie Pollard</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Carrie Pollard</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A HUSBAND COULDN'T BE BOUGHT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Carrie Pollard was born in slavery time but she was never a slave. Her +grandmother was a free woman who came to Tuscaloosa as a servant in the +1820's and was rescued from a man who claimed ownership, but whose claim +was disallowed. The grandmother went to Gainesville, with her slave +husband for whom she bought freedom.</p> +<p class="pnext">One of her daughters, who was Carrie Pollard's Aunt Cynthia, was not so +lucky. She couldn't buy her husband free. The story, told so often to +Carrie when she was a child, is still a bright memory to the mulatto +woman who was born in 1859 and still lives in Gainesville in the house +of her birth.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-125"> +<span id="id48"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Carrie Pollard" src="images/image324pollard.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Carrie Pollard, Gainesville, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"My Aunt Cynthy," said Carrie, "was free born in North Carolina. She +come down here to Gainesville, an' though the deed sez you can't take a +blue veined chile an' make a slave outa her, de man whut brought her +made like he owned her or sump'in'. She lived on one plantation wid her +guardian. Tom Dobbs, a slave nigger whut belonged to Mr. Dobbs here in +Gainesville, he lived on another farm cross de road. An' dey couldn't +marry, 'caze Mr. Dobbs wouldn't sell Tom an' Aunt Cynthy's white folks +wouldn't let her marry, so dey jes' taken up an' went ahead. Her an' Tom +had nine chillun, as fine looking mulattoes ez you'd wanta see. An' old +Mr. Dobbs wanted 'em an' he couldn't get 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Cynthy was a good midwife, so a white lady sent fer her to come to +Sumterville, Alabama, to nuss her an' she went. An' while she was dere, +she dream't sump'in' done happened to her chillun an' dat dey was in +trouble. So she tole de white lady she was nussin' 'bout whut she +dream't an' she said, 'Mammy, iffen you is worried 'bout your chillun +I'ze gwineter send you to a fortune teller an' see whut's de matter.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"De fortune teller cut de cards, an' den she looked up en tole Aunt +Cynthia 'All yo' chillun an' your husband done gone an' I can't tell you +where dey's at.' So Aunt Cynthia run back an' tole de white lady. She +called her husband an' he had one of his niggers saddle up two hosses +an' ride wid Aunt Cynthy back to Gainesville. When she foun' her +guardian, Mr. Steele, he met her wid de news dat dey was tuck to DeKalb, +Mississippi.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He got on his hoss an' tuck some other white men wid him, an' dey +captured old man Dobbs right dere wid Tom an' de nine chillun. Dey done +stopped an' camped an' was cookin' supper. So Mr. Steele tole him he +could keep Tom, 'caze he was hissen, an' a slave, but Cynthy was free +born an' he couldn't have her chillun. But Mr. Dobbs sez he didn't want +Tom nohow, caze he was part Indian an' no 'count an' wouldn't work. So +Mr. Steele bought Tom for Aunt Cynthy an' brought 'em all back to live +wid him. An' he give Aunt Cynthy an' Tom an' de chillun a nice house +right 'cross de branch here after surrender."</p> +<p class="pnext">Carrie tells of how her grandmother used to send them to the mill in +Gainesville with wheat, "jes' lack you do corn nowadays, to git flour. +An' us git de grudgins an' de seconds an' have de bes' buckwheat cakes +you ever et."</p> +<p class="pnext">She says there are more black Negroes now in Gainesville than she has +ever seen. She says, "Hit use to be a sight to see 'bout fifty bes' +lookin' mulatto girls up in de public square here listenin' to de ban' +an' nussen' de chillun, not five black ones in de bunch. An' dey had +good sense, too. Us didn't have no clocks, so us white mistis would say, +'Yawl come home a hour by sun to do de night work,' an' us didn't hardly +ever miss it." She says her grandmother sent her two daughters to school +in Mobile, and they went down the river from Gainesville in a river boat +called <em class="italics">Cremonia</em>.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="irene-poole"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id160">Irene Poole</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Irene Poole</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HUSH WATER FOR TALKATIVE WOMEN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Under the spreading branches of an enormous fig tree laden with ripe +fruit "Aunt Irene" sat dreaming of old times. At her feet several +chickens scratched and waited for the soft plop of an over ripe fig as +it fell to the ground.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Irene's back is bent with age and rheumatism, but her two-room +cabin is as clean and neat as a pin. Her small yard is a mass of color +where marigolds, zinnias, verbena and cockscomb run riot, and over the +roughly-made arch at the gate trailed cypress vine in full bloom. "Good +morning Aunt Irene," I said. "A penny for your thoughts."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well honey, I don't know as dey is wo'th a penny; not to you anyhow. I +was jes' stud'in' 'bout ole times an' 'bout mah ole marster. You know if +he was livin' today he would be a hundred an' sixteen years ole."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Who was your master Aunt Irene? Tell me about him."</p> +<p class="pnext">"His name was Jeff Anderson Poole an' he was de bes' man in de world. +Mah ole miss was name Mollie. I was born on his plantation three miles +from Uniontown eighty five years ago.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mah pappy, Alfred Poole, b'longed to Marse Jeff an' he bought mah +mammy, Palestine Kent, from another plantation 'cause mah pappy jes' +couldn' do no work fer thinkin' 'bout her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Jeff paid fifteen hunderd dollars for my mammy an' her three +little chillun. Marse Jeff was rich, he owned three big plantations an' +Lawd knows how many niggers. Dey was a hunderd head on our plantation. +He lacked to race horses an' had a stable full o' fine racers. I spec' +he made lots o' his money on dem horses. Miss Mollie say when he win he +swell out his ches' an' stick his thum's in de armhole of his ves' an' +talk 'bout it, but when he lose he don't say nothin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas ma'am dere was always plenty to eat. A thousan' poun's o' meat +wasn't nothin' to kill on our plantation. My mammy was de cook in de big +house an' my pappy driv de carriage an' went 'roun' wid Marse Jeff when +he tuck trips. I was a house servant too. When I wasn' nothin' mo' in a +baby, de oberseer's wife tuck me to train, so I would know how to ac' in +de big house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day she started to give me a whuppin'. Us was out in de yard an' +when she bent over to git a switch I runned under her hoopskirt. When +she look 'roun' she didn't see me nowhar. After while she started on up +to de house an' I runned along wid her under de hoopskirt, takin' little +steps so I wouldn't trip her up, till I seed a chance to slip out." +Irene threw back her head and laughed loud and long at this amusing +memory.</p> +<p class="pnext">Asked then about her mistress she said: "Yas ma'am she was good. She +never punished me, she used to go 'roun' de quarters eve'y mornin' to +see 'bout her sick niggers. She always had a little basket wid oil, +teppentine an' number six in it. Number six was strong medicine. You had +to take it by de drap. I always toted de basket. She gived me mah +weddin' dress. It was white tarletan wid ban's o' blue ribbin. I sole de +dress las' year but I can show you de pantalets she made me. I used to +wear 'em to meetin' on Sunday when us had singin' an' de preacher said +words." Aunt Irene brought out the deep ruffled pantalets carefully +folded and yellow with age, she had treasured them for seventy-five +years.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No ma'am, Marse Jeff didn't go to de war, I don't know why. I guess it +was 'cause he was so rich. Now don't you be thinkin' he was gun shy, +'cause he wasn't an' he done his part too 'cause he took keer o' five +widders an' dey chillun when dey men got kilt in de war.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy lef de night de Yankees tuck Selma. It was on Sunday, an' I +ain't seed him since.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de surrender us staid on with Marse Jeff. Us didn't keer nothin' +'bout bein' free 'cause us had good times on de plantation. On Sadday +dey had corn shuckin's an' de niggers had a week at Chris'mas wid +presents for eve'ybody. Camping at de big house an' mo' to eat in one +day den I sees now in a year.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Irene, do you remember anything about the conjurers in the old +days?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't put much sto' by dem folks. Dey used to give you de han' so you +could please yo' mistess an' dey would sell you hush water in a jug. +Hush water was jes' plain water what dey fixed so if you drink it you +would be quiet an' patient. De mens would git it to give to dey wives to +make 'em hush up. I reckon some of de mens would be glad to git some now +'cause gals dese days is got too much mouf."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="nicey-pugh"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id161">Nicey Pugh</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Nicey Pugh</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, [HW: Mobile]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was bawn a slave, but I ain't neber been a slave", was Aunt Nicey's +first remark to me as I came upon her pulling up potato draws in her +garden in Prichard, Alabama. "Dere was 'leben chilluns in my family an' +all 'em is daid ceptin' me an' one brother who is seventy-five year old +at de present time. My pappy's name was Hamp West an' my mammy was Sarah +West. All my folks belonged to Massa Jim Bettis, an' was born an' raised +on his place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I was a little pickaninny I worked in Massa Jim's house, +sweepin' an' a-cleanin'. Us slaves had to be up at de house by sunup, +build de fires an' git de cookin' started. Dey had big open fireplaces +wid potracks to hang de pot on. Dat's whar us boiled de vegetables. An' +honey, us sho had plenty somp'n' t'eat: greens, taters, peas, rosenyurs +an' plenty of home killed meat. Sometimes my oldest brother, Joe West, +an' Friday Davis, anudder nigger, went huntin' at night an' kotched mo' +possums dan we could eat. Dey'd ketch lots of fish; 'nuf to las' us +three days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remembers one day when me an' anudder little nigger gal was agoin' +atter de cows down in de fiel' an' us seed whut I reckon' was de Ku Klux +Klan. Us was so skeered us didn't know whut to do. One of 'em walked up +to us an' say: 'Niggers, whar you agoin'?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Us is jus' atter de cows, Mr. Ku Klux,' us say. 'Us ain't up to no +debilment.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'All right den,' dey say, 'jus' you be sho dat you don't git up to +none.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter we got home us told de massa 'bout de 'sperience, an' he jus' +laugh. He tol' us dat we warn't goin' to be hurt iffen we was good; he +say dat it was only de bad niggers dat was goin' to be got atter by dem +Ku Klux.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When we was little we didn't hab no games to play, kaze Massa Jim an' +Miss Marfa didn't hab no chilluns, an' I ain't neber had no speriences +wid ha'nts or hoodoos. Dey neber teach us to read or write kaze when de +niggers learn anything, dey would git upitty an' want to run away. We +would hab Sad'day afternoons off, den us would sweep de yards, an' set +aroun' on benches an' talk. It was on de benches dat mos' of us slaves +set in warm weather. We et outen tin cups an' us used iron spoons to +shovel de food in.</p> +<p class="pnext">"At Christmas time, Massa would have a bunch of niggers to kill a hog +an' barbecue him, an' de womens would make 'lasses cake, an' ole massa +Jim had some kinda seed dat he made beer outen, an' we-alls drank beer +'roun' Christmas.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But dere warn't no udder time such as New Years. Us all celebrated in a +big way den. Most of dem no 'count niggers stayed drunk fo' three days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"An' as fo' de funerals, I don't eber remember but three white folks +dyin'. Dey jus' didn't seem to die in dem days, an' de ones dat did die +was mostly kilt by somp'n'. One white gentman got hisself kilt in a gin +'chinery an' anudder was kilt a workin' on de big road. Den dere was a +white 'oman who was kilt by a nigger boy kaze she beat him for sicking a +dog on a fine milk cow. He was de meanest nigger boy I eber seed. I'll +neber forgits de way dem white mens treated him atter he done had his +trial. Dey drug him through de town behin' a hoss, an' made him walk +ober sharp stones wid his bare feets, dat bled lak somebody done cut 'em +wid a knife. Dey neber gib him no water all dat day an' kep' him out in +de boilin' sun till dey got ready to hang him. When dey got ready to +hang him dey put him up on a stand and chunked rocks at his naked body; +dey thro gravel in his eyes and broke his ribs wid big rocks. Den dey +put a rope around his neck an' strung him up till his eyes pop outen his +head. I knowed it was a blessin' to him to die.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But all and all, white folks, den was de really happy days for us +niggers. Course we didn't hab de 'vantages dat we has now, but dere wus +somp'n' back dere dat we ain't got now, an' dat's secu'aty. Yassuh, we +had somebody to go to when we was in trouble. We had a Massa dat would +fight fo' us an' help us an' laugh wid us an' cry wid us. We had a +Mistis dat would nuss us when we was sick, an' comfort us when we hadda +be punished. I sometimes wish I could be back on de ole place. I kin see +de cool-house now packed wid fresh butter an' milk an' cream. I can see +de spring down amongst de willows an' de water a trickling down between +little rocks. I can hear de turkeys a gobblin' in de yard and de +chickens a runnin' aroun' in de sun, an' shufflin' in de dus'. I can see +de bend in de creek jus' below our house, an' de cows as dey come to +drink in de shallow water an' gits dere feets cool.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-126"> +<span id="id49"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Nicey Pugh" src="images/image329pugh.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Nicey Pugh, Prichard, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Yassuh, white folks, you ain't neber seed nothin' lak it so you can't +tell de joy you gits f'um lookin' for dewberries an' a-huntin' guinea +pigs, an' settin' in de shade of a peach tree, reachin' up an' pullin' +off a ripe peach and eatin' it slow. You ain't neber seed your people +gathered 'bout an' singin' in de moonlight or heered de lark at de break +of day. You ain't neber walked acrost a frosty fiel' in de early +mornin', an' gone to de big house to build a fire for your Mistis, an' +when she wake up slow have her say to you: 'Well, how's my little nigger +today?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, jus' lak I told you at fus'. I was bawn a slave, but I ain't +neber been one. I'se been a worker for good peoples. You wouldn't calls +dat bein' a slave would you, white folks?"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="sally-reynolds"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id162">Sally Reynolds</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal conversation with Sallie Reynolds</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">552 South Conception Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Compiled by Mary A. Poole</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SATAN'S GOIN' 'ROUND WID HIS TAIL CURLED UP</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Sally Reynolds, living at 552 South Conception street, was busy at the +wash tub when the writer called to interview her on July 20, 1937, so it +being a hot day we decided to continue our conversation out doors under +the washshed amid a conglomeration of tubs, buckets, empty boxes, etc.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sallie said she was born in Hiltown, Georgia, where her mother Margaret +Owens was a slave and the cook on the plantation of Mr. Lit Albritton. +When Sallie was about three years of age her mother gave her to Mrs. +Becke Albritton, who lived at New Providence, near Rutledge in Crenshaw +County, Alabama, to whom she was bound until 21 years of age. There was +also a brother given by her mother to some folks in Florida and of whom +Sallie never had any knowledge whatever.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sallie said Mrs. Albritton was kind to her, taught her to spin and +sew, and she tried to learn herself to weave, but, somehow, could never +master it.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Albritton had only a few slaves who were named, Mose, Dan, Charles, +Sandy (the latter so called because he ate sand as a child), and two +women, Hannah and Tene.</p> +<p class="pnext">They had no regular quarters but just cabins out in a rear lot.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sallie said all the whippings were given by either of the young Messrs. +Albritton, they were high tempered, as their father was before them. She +laughed and said she had Indian blood in her veins and sometimes she was +sassy as she felt independent knowing Mrs. Albritton would always take +her part.</p> +<p class="pnext">She recalled the Yankee's coming through after the war, one remained at +the Albritton home after the others had gone on, and she remembered +hearing Mrs. Albritton telling friends who visited her, that after this +soldier had left he wrote Mrs. Albritton a letter, telling her to look +on the back of the bench on the gallery where he had sat and she would +find his message. Sallie said she was a little girl sitting on the floor +at her mistress feet, ready to fetch and carry for her and she often +wondered but didn't dare ask what the message was; she did, however, +hear some one say that the Yankees said, if they ever came again, they +would take them from the cradle and that puzzled her, to know just what +they meant.</p> +<p class="pnext">Mrs. Albritton had a regular herb garden and Sallie helped her to gather +the herbs, Pennyroil, Dock Sage, Tansy (single and double), Thyme, and +Yarrow. They used Samson Snake Root in whiskey for cramps, and Butterfly +weed for risings.</p> +<p class="pnext">The writer asked Sallie about church and she said they had no church but +Mr. Albritton talked to her and impressed on her as a child to never +touch anything that did not belong to her. "Ask for it and if not given +to her, to let it alone and to never lie, or to carry tales, and she +could always keep out of trouble." Sallie said she hated to see Sunday +morning come, as the men folks were around the house and they would pick +on her and somehow she would get a beating.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sallie remained with Mrs. Albritton until she was 22 years, when she +married John Russell, by whom she had three children. They all died as +babies, later she married Gus Reynolds, (now dead) so Sallie just rents +a room and lives alone.</p> +<p class="pnext">Sallie says present generation knows too much and too little, that the +"Old-time religion" was best for all, she thinks "Satan's goin' 'round +wid his tail curled up, catching all he can devour"; and "folks should +do like Christ did when Satan tried to tempt Him, and tell Satan to go +get behind them, and they get behind Jesus they could not have sorrow +run across their hearts and minds."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mary-rice"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id163">Mary Rice</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mary Rice</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, [HW: Eufaula]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DESE UPPITY NIGGERS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Few of the ex-slaves will readily admit that they were mere field hands +in the old days. Generally they prefer to leave the impression that they +were house servants, or at least stable boys or dairy hands.</p> +<p class="pnext">But "aunt" Mary Rice, age 92, who lives in Eufaula, holds no such view +about the superior social position of house servants. She was a "big +missy gal" ('teen age) during the War, and about her duties on the +plantation of Dr. Cullen Battle near Tuskegee, where she was born, she +said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I lived in de quahter. I was a fiel' nigger, but when I was a +lil' gal, I helped around de milk-house, churnin', washing de pails and +de lak, and den give all de little niggers milk.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-127"> +<span id="id50"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Mary Rice" src="images/image335rice.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Mary Rice, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Massa Cullen and Mistis' Ma'y Jane was de bes' Marster and Mistis' in +de worl'. Once when I was awful sick, Mistis' Ma'y Jane had me brung in +de Big House and put me in a room dat sot on de 'tother side of the +kitchen so she could take kere of me herself 'cause it was a right fur +piece to de quahter and I had to be nussed day and night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I was jes' as happy bein' a fiel' han' as I would'er been at de +Big House; mebbe mo' so. De fiel' han's had a long spell when de crops +was laid by in de summer and dat's when Massa Cullen 'lowed us to +'jubilate' (several days of idle celebration). I was happy all de time +in slavery days, but dere ain't much to git happy over now, 'cep'n I's +livin'—thank de Lawd. Massa Cullen was a rich man, and owned all de +worl' from Chestnut Hill to de ribers, and us always had eberything us +needed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Niggers dese days ain't neber knowed whut good times is. Mebbe dat's +why dey ain't no 'count. And dey is so uppity, too, callin' dereselves +'cullud folks and havin' gold teeth. Dey sez de mo' gold teeth dey has, +de higher up in chu'ch dey sets. Huh!"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="cornelia-robinson"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id164">Cornelia Robinson</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Cornelia Robinson</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DE YANKEES WUZ A HARRICANE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"One time I 'members a storm us had. I calls it a harricane; but it was +really de Yankees comin' through."</p> +<p class="pnext">Quaint, little Cornelia Robinson was anxious to give all the facts she +could remember about slavery days; but she was only about four years old +during the latter days of that period, and must depend a great deal on +what has been told her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Chile, dem Yankees come through an' cleaned out de smokehouse; even +lef' de lard bucket as clean as yo' hand. Ol' Marster tuk his bes' +horses an' mules to de big swamp, an' de Yankees couldn't fin' 'em. But +dey tore up everything dey couldn't take wid dem. Dey poured all de +syrup out an' it run down de road lak water.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One pore little nigger boy was so skeered dat when he went out to git +up de cows an' when he couldn't fin' some of 'em, he laid down in a +hollow stump an' nearly froze to death. Dey had to thaw him out in de +branch, but he was powerful sick. He war'nt no 'count for nothin' atter +dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat Ol' Mistus saved all her jewels an' sech frum de +Yankees. She brung 'em out to de nigger cabins an' hid 'em amongst us."</p> +<p class="pnext">Cornelia, forever smiling, wears her gray hair in two short braids down +the back. She says her father and mother were George and Harriett +Yancey, who belonged first to a Mrs. Baugh and who were later sold to a +Dr. Trammell, of near Lafayette. Her brothers and sisters were Charlie, +Willie, Albert and Ann.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-128"> +<span id="id51"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Cornelia Robinson" src="images/image337robinson.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Cornelia Robinson, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I 'members de high, four-poster beds us useter sometimes sleep on," she +said. "I was so little dat I had to crawl into 'em wid de help of a +stool. I 'members dat de mud fireplaces of early times was far back, +deep an' wide. All de little niggers was fed milk an' bread, wid de +bread crumbled in. Us also had pot licker an' greens.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our clothes was muslin an' calico for de hot weather; an' den in winter +us had linty cloth, part wool an' part cotton, homespun. Us raised de +sheep, too, but us didn't wear no clothes hardly in hot weather.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us sho' did have a good marster an' mistis. Dey give us all de clothes +an' food us needed an' gived us medicine. Us wore asafetida an' pennies +aroun' our necks to help us not to git sick.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey taught my mother to read an' write, too. Not many done dat. She'd +read de Bible to us little niggers an' give prayers. Atter slavery, us +had schools. I 'members dat George Hawkins an' his wife taught it."</p> +<p class="pnext">Cornelia recalls some of the happenings of slavery times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"If de slaves went off de plantation widout a pass, de patterollers +would ketch 'em an' beat 'em powerful bad. If de niggers could outrun de +patterollers an' git home fust dey couldn't be whupped. Dey had dogs +called 'nigger hounds', same like dey had bird dogs, an' dey would track +de slaves an' bring dem back home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members my mother goin' to corn shuckin's. 'Course dey put us little +niggers to bed 'fore dey went but dey sho' sounded lak dey was havin' a +big time, hollerin' an' singin'. Us went to de white folks church in de +afternoon, an' de Reverend Gardner was a mighty good preacher. When any +of us niggers died, Marster was good to us an' let all de niggers quit +an' attend de burial. Dey made de coffins at home an' would black dem +wid soot.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had a ol' quack herb doctor on de place. Some bad boys went up to +his house one night an' poured a whole lot of de medicine down him. An +honey, dat ol' man died de next day.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter I got grown I married Robert Benson an' us had four chillun and +several grandchillun."</p> +<p class="pnext">Cornelia, beaming and apparently happy every minute of the day, lives +with one of her grandchildren in Opelika.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="gus-rogers"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id165">Gus Rogers</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Gus Rogers</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">JABBO EXPLAINS HIS BLACK SKIN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Living on the Moffat road at Orchard, in western Mobile County, Alabama, +on Mr. McIntyre's place is Gus Rogers, who is known better by the name +of Jabbo. He claims to be over ninety years of age, but could give no +proof. He claims the 26th of June as his birthday.</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked how old he was, he replied with a smile:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss, I don't know but I found everything here when I came along."</p> +<p class="pnext">He was born at Salisbury, N.C. on the Rogers' plantation, and Mr. John +and Mrs. Mary Rogers were his master and mistress. His parents were +William and Lucy Rogers, who had five children, three girls and two +boys.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jabbo said the Rogers's home was built of boards of virgin timber and +the slave quarters were some distance from the big house. Some of the +cabins were built of logs and some of boards, all having clay chimneys +and big open fireplaces equipped for cooking, as the slaves usually +cooked their own meals, except during busy seasons, when meals were +prepared in the house kitchen by the slave women too old to work in the +fields.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jabbo said one old man went around and rapped on the doors to wake up +slaves to go to work. When asked how long they worked he laughed, and +said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Just from sun to sun and then you went to bed, 'cause you knew that old +man would sure be rapping before you were ready next morning."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked about earning any money, Jabbo said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Law, Miss we didn't even know what money was, and we didn't have no +use for it. We had all we needed, plenty to eat and all the clothes +necessary those days."</p> +<p class="pnext">The Rogers raised lots of tobacco and wheat, and all the necessary farm +products needed on the plantation. They had a large orchard and made all +the cider they could drink.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jabbo recalled driving many a refugee wagon during the War, and when +they heard of the Yankees' coming, the Rogers family took all the horses +and mules and hid them in the swamps and buried all the silver and other +valuables.</p> +<p class="pnext">After the devastation wrought by War, Mr. Rogers moved his family to +Massey Station, Montgomery County, Alabama, intending to raise cotton. +He brought Jabbo's father and mother and family with him, but meeting +with little success he returned to Salisbury, N.C. Jabbo remained in +Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jabbo married and raised a family of five children. There were two girls +and three boys but he has no knowledge of their present whereabouts.</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked if he was married more than once, Jabbo laughed and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"No, Miss I always had the price of a marriage license in my pocket, but +somehow I never married."</p> +<p class="pnext">In answer to inquiry as to religion, Jabbo replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Miss, I am a Methodist, but there's only one religion. You have to be +pure in heart to see Him, because He said so, and to do unto others as +you desire others to do unto you."</p> +<p class="pnext">Continuing about religion Jabbo said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"God gave it to Adam and took it away from Adam and gave it to Noah, and +you know, Miss, Noah had three sons, and when Noah got drunk on wine, +one of his sons laughed at him, and the other two took a sheet and +walked backwards and threw it over Noah. Noah told the one who laughed, +'you children will be hewers of wood and drawers of water for the +other's two children, and they will be known by their hair and their +skin being dark,' so, Miss, there we are, and that is the way God meant +us to be. We have always had to follow the white folks and do what we +saw them do, and that's all there is to it. You just can't get away from +what the Lord said."</p> +<p class="pnext">Jabbo said he would like "to go back to the good old days, 'though there +was good folks and there was mean folks, then too, just like there is +today."</p> +<p class="pnext">Bibliography: Personal interview by the writer with Gus Rogers, +ex-slave, better known as "Jabbo."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="janie-scott"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id166">Janie Scott</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Janie Scott</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">255 South Lawrence Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SLAVE CA'LINE SOLD FER A SACK O' SALT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Janie Scott, living in a cottage at 255 South Lawrence Street, was +interviewed by the writer on July 14th, 1937. She claimed she was born +April 10, 1867, but she appeared older than seventy years of age. She, +of course, was unable to give any experiences of her own as a slave but +recalled what had been told her by her mother, who was a slave on the +Myers plantation at Tensaw, Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked how large was the plantation, Janie answered:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lordy, chile, many an acre an 'bout sixty slaves."</p> +<p class="pnext">Her mother worked in the house, and when the field hands were working +helped carry water out to them in buckets, each one getting a swallow or +two a piece. Her father was Andy White, and was raised on the plantation +of John Jewett at Stockton, Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">Janie had heard her father say he was a coachman and drove the folks +around, also came over in a boat with his master to Mobile to get +supplies and groceries, and that they killed many a deer in +neighborhoods just north of Bienville Square.</p> +<p class="pnext">Jane said her mother's Master and Mistress didn't want her mother to +marry Andy, because he was too light in color and light niggers Janie +said folks didn't think as strong as a good black one, so her mother, +Sarah Porter, and Andy White her father just borrowed a mule without the +Master's consent and rode off and were married, anyhow.</p> +<p class="pnext">Janie laughed and said she guessed it was all right after all because +they had eleven children, two are now living, Janie and a sister Daisy.</p> +<p class="pnext">When the writer asked if slaves ever earned any money, she replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"They didn't even know what money was." Then she continued: "Once when +my mother was a little girl she asked her mistress to give her fifteen +cents, and her Mistress wanted to know why she wanted fifteen cents. +Her Mother replied: "I wants to see what money looks like."</p> +<p class="pnext">Her Mistress thought she was trying to act smart and in place of fifteen +cents she received a whipping.</p> +<p class="pnext">The slaves wore homespun clothes, but her mother remembered having as +her best dress one made of marino.</p> +<p class="pnext">The slaves quarters were log cabins with clay chimneys, and they cooked +in the open fireplaces in the winter and in the summer on what they +called scaffolds, built out in the yard. These were made of clay +foundations with iron rods across on which the pots hung.</p> +<p class="pnext">Janie said her mother "was strong and could roll and cut logs like a +man, and was much of a woman." Then they had a log rolling on a +plantation the Negroes from the neighboring plantations came and worked +together until all the jobs were completed.</p> +<p class="pnext">After each log rolling they gave them molasses to make candy and have a +big frolic.</p> +<p class="pnext">During the Civil War when supplies were scarce, especially salt, Marster +John rode off taking her mother's sister Ca'line with him, and when he +returned alone his wife, Mrs. Meyers, wanted to know where was Ca'line, +and Marster John replied: "I sold her for a sack of salt." At first they +did not believe him, but Ca'line never returned and Sarah never saw her +sister anymore.</p> +<p class="pnext">After the Surrender the Yankees came through and the slaves hid under +the house, but the soldiers made them come out and told them they were +free, and gave the slaves everything on the place to eat. They all went +down to the creek and praised God for what he had done for them.</p> +<p class="pnext">Janie does not believe in charms, hoodoo or fortune-tellers, saying:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Those folks can't tell you nothing. When Christ was risen He carried +all prophets with Him and didn't leave any wise folks able to tell +things going to happen here on earth—everything Christ wanted folks to +know had already happened."</p> +<p class="pnext">Janie did say the best charm she knew of was a bag of asafetida worn +around the neck to ward off sickness or to take nine or ten drops in a +little water would sure keep the worms down.</p> +<p class="pnext">The slaves got plenty of coons, rabbits and bear meat, and could go +fishing on Sundays, as well as turtle hunting.</p> +<p class="pnext">The overseer on the Myers plantation was not a mean man, they had a +calaboose or sweat box to punish unruly slaves in place of whipping +them.</p> +<p class="pnext">After the Surrender her father and mother moved to Mobile, Alabama, and +her father continued to work for Mr. Jewett at his mill located at the +foot of Palmetto Street on the Mobile river front.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="maugan-shepherd"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id167">Maugan Shepherd</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Maugan Shepherd</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, [HW: Eufaula]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SLAVERY COMING BACK? MAUGAN HOPES SO</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Mistus, I hears slavery times is comin' back."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Maugan Shepherd is past 80. He idled about the front of his +tumble-down house in Eufaula, happily recalling the old plantation days. +He has never learned to read, and therefore pins a great deal of +dependence upon hearsay.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Where did you hear about slavery coming back?" the interviewer asked +him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, mam, 'pear lak I heard it somewhar. I don't rikolect jest now."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Would you like to have the old times back again, Uncle Maugan?"</p> +<p class="pnext">He studied a moment, beamed:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassum, I would. I'se proud I was borned a slave. I'se too young to +'member much, but I knows I always had enough to eat and wear den, and I +sho don't now.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Maugan said that he was "birthed" at Chestnut Hill; that he +belonged to Marse and Mistus Rich Wiley, and that his father and mother +were Bunk and Betsy Wiley, both "field niggers." Maugan had two +brothers, Oliver and Monroe; but no sisters.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I never seed ma and pa much 'cept on Sundays," he explained. "Dey was +allus workin' in de fields an' I was out chasin' rabbits an' sech mos' +of de time. At night I jest et my cornpone an' drink my buttermilk an' +fell on de bed asleep."</p> +<p class="pnext">Maugan remembers one overseer, scornfully referring to him as "po' white +trash."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us slaves called him by his las' name behin' his back," the +old darky explained, "'caze us hated to 'mister' dat white man."</p> +<p class="pnext">Maugan remembers Reconstruction and a great deal about "atter de +surrender," but says "rickolection ain't so good" on things that +happened before.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members dat I was powerful scared of de Yankee soldiers," he said, +"but dey never hurt nobody. Dey come through Eufaula an' all us niggers +tried to hide; but dey jest come on by an' laughed at us fer bein' +scared."</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-129"> +<span id="id52"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Maugan Shepherd" src="images/image346shepherd.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Maugan Shepherd, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">More than fifty years ago, Maugan married Kitty. She is about 70 and +makes her living washing clothes for "de white peoples." They never had +any children.</p> +<p class="pnext">Maugan says he never goes anywhere except to church on Sundays. His legs +are not so strong anymore, he explains.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My ol' 'oman, she sho' lak to go to funerals," he chuckled. "But in +dese days day takes de body to have it vulcanized, so we can't have no +settin' ups. Dis went hard on Kitty, 'caze she was a mourner; but it +didn't do her no good, shoutin' an' amournin' all night. She would +always come home wid her head tied up an' her eyes set back in her +head."</p> +<p class="pnext">Maugan still works. He is a good yardman, but says some day he is just +"gwine ter drap out, lak his pa did."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="allen-sims"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id168">Allen Sims</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Allen Sims</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">PLENTY OF FOOD AND NO TRASH NEITHER</em></p> +<p class="pnext">While interviewing former slaves in the rural sections of Lee County, I +ran across Allen Sims, a sturdy old Negro, who proved to have an +unusually clear recollection of slavery as the institution appeared to +the small boy of that era. He was not old enough to make a work-hand at +its close. He spoke slowly, but with evident positiveness as to the +facts:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members lots 'bout slavery times; 'cause I was right dar. I don't +'member much 'bout de war, 'cause I was too little to know what war was, +and de most I seed was when de Yankees come through and burnt up de Big +House, de barns, de ginhouse and took all Old Marster's hosses and +mules, and kilt de milk-cows for beef. They didn't leave us nothing to +eat, and us lak to starve to death.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our folks, de Simses, dey come fum Virginny. My pappy and mammy was +borned dere. Dey names was Allen Sims and Kitty Sims. My Old Marster was +Marse Jimmie Sims, and my Old Mistis was Miss Creasie. Some of Pappy and +Mammy's chillun was borned in Virginny, and some of 'em in Alabama. I +was de baby chile, and I was borned right on dis very place whar us is +now. Dey had a whole passel of chillun. Dere was Chaney, Becky, Judy, +Sam, Phoebe, King, Alex, Jordan and Allen—dat's me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us lived in a log house in de quarter, wid a board roof and a ol' rock +fireplace wid a stick and dirt chimley. We had plenty wood, and could +build jes' as big fire as we need, if de weather was cold. Mammy, she +cook ash-cake in de fireplace, and it was de bes' bread I ever eat, +better'n any dis store-bought bread. You ain't never eat no ash-cake? +Umph, Missy, you don't know what good bread is lak!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old Marster was good to his niggers and all of 'em, big and little had +plenty to eat, and it wa'n't trash neither. Us had ash-cake, hoe-cake, +pone-bread, meat and gravy, peas, greens, roast-neers, pot-liquor, and +sweet 'taters, I'ish taters, and goobers—I spec Old Marster's niggers +live better dan lots of white folks lives now.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Mandy, what was too old to work, looked atter all de little nigger +chilluns, whilst dey mammys was working, and she whip us wid a brush, if +we didn't mind her; but she fuss more dan she whip, and it didn't hurt +much, but us cry lak she killing us.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When us got sick, Old Mistis looked atter us herself, and she gin us +oil and turpentine and lobelia and if dat didn't cure us, she sont for +de doctor—de same doctor dat come to see her own fambly. Sometime a old +nigger die, and Old Marster and Old Mistis dey cry jes' lak us did. Dey +put 'em in a coffin and bury 'em in de graveyard, wid de white preacher +dar and nobody didn't work none dat day, atter us come back fum de +graveyard.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our beds was bunks in de corner of de room, nailed to de wall and jes' +one post out in de flo'. De little chilluns slep' crosswise de big bed +and it was plum' full in cold weather.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-130"> +<span id="id53"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Allen Sims" src="images/image348sims.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Allen Sims, Lee County, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Our clothes was osnaburg, spun and weave' right at home, and it sho' +did last a long time. De little niggers jes' wore a long shirt, 'twell +dey got big 'nough to work in de field, and us had red shoes made at de +tan-yard to wear in winter time; but us foots was tough and us went +barefooted most all de winter too. Us played games too, ginerly, jumping +de rope and base.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De grown niggers had good times Sadday nights, wid dances, suppers and +wras'lin. De corn-shuckings was de biggest time dey had, 'cause de +neighbors come and dey laughed and hollered nearly all night.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Old Marster and Old Mistis lived in a big two-story white house. Dey +had ten chillun, five boys and five gals, and dey all growed up and +married off. De old carriage-driver was name Clark, and he sho' was +proud. De overseer was Tetter Roberson, and he was mean. He beat niggers +a lot, and bimeby Old Marster turned him off. He used to blow de horn +way befo' day to git de niggers up, and he work 'em 'tell smack dark.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de Yankees burned up everyt'ing 'cept de cabins, us jes' stayed +right dar wid Old Marster when us freed. Old Marster built a new house +for him and Old Mistis, but it wa'n't much better dan our cabin and dey +lived dere 'tell dey died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I growed up, I married Laura Frazier, and us had a big wedding and +a preacher, and didn't jump over no broom lack some niggers did. Us had +jes' two chillun dat lived to be grown. Dey is Filmore and Mary Lou, and +us ain't got no gran'chillun.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When I got grown, I j'ined de Baptist Church at Rough Neck, 'cause I +felt I had done enough wrong, and I been a deacon forty year."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="frank-smith"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id169">Frank Smith</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Frank Smith</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">D.A. Oden</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Yassuh, its jes' lak I tell yer. I was borned in Ole Virginny and my +Ole Marster was Doctor Constable and he and us all lived out a piece fum +Norfolk whar you kin see de whole ocean. I was writ down in de Bible, +jes' lak Ole Marster's udder niggers, and Ole Mistis said hit was de six +day of Jinnerwary in forty-eight when I was borned. How ole dat mek me +now? Eighty-nine, gwine on ninety—dat's right.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ole Marster he died eight years fo' de Big War, and Ole Mistis +'refergeed' down to Alexandria, where her mammy and pappy lived and tuk +me and Unker Dan and Aunt Melissy wid her; but she sole my mammy and my +pappy and all de rest of de niggers ter de man what bought de plantation +and us never did see 'em no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was de house-boy at Ole Mistis' pappy's house, I disremember his +name; but, anyhow, I didn't wuck in de field lak de udder niggers. Wen +de Big War started, Ole Mistis she tuck me and her chilluns and us +'refergeed', down somewhars dey was a co'thouse, whut dey called +'Culpepper', or sump'n lak dat, and us lived in town wid some mo' of Ole +Mistis' kinfolks, but dey wan't her mammy and pappy. De so'jers marched +right in front of our house, right by de front gate, and dey was gwine +ter Ho'per's Ferry to kill Ole John Brown, whut was killin' white folks +and freein' niggers fo' dey time. Dat was Mister Lincum's job, atter de +war. And no niggers wan't ter be free tell den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We lived clos't ter de big hotel whar Gineral Lee and a whole passel of +soldiers stayed, and dey had de shineyest clo's I ebber seed. Dey was +fine gem'men and Ole Mistis she let me wait on 'em whilst she didn' need +me ter wuck eround de house, and dey gimme a dime lots of times. I +shined Gineral Lee's shoes sometimes—and he alluz gin me a dime and +said: 'Dat looks nice.' Some of de ginerals jes' gimme de dime and +didn't say nuthin' but dey wasn't big mens lak Gineral Lee and Ole +Marster. He was straight and dignerfied and didn't talk much, but he'd +walk up and down on de front gallery and de ord'lies brung him telegrafs +from Bull Run, whar us and de Yankees was fightin'. Lawzy missy, I heard +em talkin 'bout 'Bull Run' dat day and I 'lowed somebody's bull had got +out and us and de Yankees was tryin' ter ketch him and git him back in +de paster!</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-131"> +<span id="id54"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Frank Smith" src="images/image351smith.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Frank Smith, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Wen de war got too close to us, Ole Mistis tuck me and her little gal +what was older'n me, and lef' Unker Dan and Aunt Melissa, and us went to +Lynchburg, whar her mammy and pappy done move to, and us stayed wid dem +ag'in, but Ole Mistis was gittin' worried over de war, and when I broke +her iv'y-handled dinin' room knife and fergot ter tell her, she slap my +head nearly off and got mad and sole me ter a man whut lived in +Cleveland, Tennessee.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Her pappy tried ter keep Mistis fum sellin' me. He said all I needed +was a good brushin', but nobody couldn't do nothin' wid Ole Mistis wen +she got good and mad!</p> +<p class="pnext">"My new marster wan't lak my own whitefolks; so I up and runned way and +jine de Yankee army and got a job workin' fer a cap'n name Esserton, or +sump'n lak dat; him and a Lieutenant somebody. We followed General +Sherman clear to Atlanta and ten mile fudder on, den dey turned back, +and marched clear back to Chattanooga and den kep' on tell we got ter +Nashville. I sho' was glad to git away fum Atlanta, cause dey was dead +men eve'y way you looked atter dey quit fightin'. Dey gimme a uniform, +but I didn't get no gun—I fought wid a fryin-pan.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We stayed in Nashville a while and when de war was over, Cap'n Esserton +wanted ter tek me to Illinois wid him and give me a job; but I didn't +lak de Yankees. Dey wanted you to wuk all de time, and dat's sump'n I +hadn't been brung up to do. Dey turned me free and I went wid a passel +of Gineral Lee's so'jers, what come along goin' home and us went down +and crossed de bigges' ribber I eber seed. I tuk up on fus' one farm and +den anudder, tell I found one I lak and den dat was two years atter we +lef' Nashville (1867) and I stayed dar close to Baton Rouge sixteen +years. Lawd, de cotton and sugar cane us did mek on dat rich lan'. Its' +richer'n de gwana dey sells out here in Alabama!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I went to Memphis on a 'scursion and stayed dar, doin fus' one thing +and den another, 'cep git in jail, and I worked at a house painter's +trade. I heered dey paid good wages fer paintin' in Bummin'ham and I +come here de same year all dem niggers was killed in dat church +stompede. I got a job wid Mr. Douglass, janitorin' at de Jefferson +Theater and him and me stayed together three years. I bought a waggin +and sold kerosene oil fer about a year, 'tell my money was all gone and +den I got a job wid de Base Ball Association in de year 1913. I been wid +'em ever sence. I used ter meck fum $8 ter $15 a week, 'cordin' ter how +times was, tell de 'pression come and I'se too ole ter wuk now, so I +jes' totes de mail and does odd jobs and dey pays me $3 a week fer dat. +I 'plied fer ole-age pension two years back, but it hain't come yit. I +got one boy livin' in Bummin'ham. He's 40 year old, but he don't help me +nary cent. My fus' wife died in Louisiana and I married a gal in +Memphis, but she lef' me when I los' my job one time and went to Detroit +wid a passel of niggers. She ain't nebber writ back to me and I done +quit payin' her any mind.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cep'n de rheumatiz, I'se in good health and gits around pretty good. +Ole Mistis showed me how to read print and I ain't never fergot how. De +Yankees didn't know dat I could read, and I never did let on. I kin see +pretty well but hafter put on my glasses to read de print. Sho! I'se +gwine to live to be a hunded years old! How many mo' years I got to go? +Ten. Dat's right. I know I'se good fer dis year, 'cause I alluz notice +dat ef I live trough March, I lives all de rest ob de year!"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="john-smith"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id170">John Smith</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with John Smith</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">"MAD 'BOUT SOMEPIN'"—SO THEY HAD A WAR</em></p> +<p class="pnext">John Smith is 103 but he doesn't want to be tied down. "Effen I's free, +I wants to 'joy it," John says, and he lives up to his desire. Though he +is a "war veter'n" with bullets in his side and leg and his century of +life has enfeebled him, he roams the countryside about Uniontown +continually, "settin' a spell" with his acquaintances.</p> +<p class="pnext">It was only after several trips I finally caught him "settin'," and he +showed no inclination to move from his advantageous position near a +watermelon patch. He was industriously working on a huge slice of melon, +his face buried in the sweet fruit, as I drove up to the little cabin +where he was visiting.</p> +<p class="pnext">As the car came to a stop he raised his head and wiped his dripping chin +on his sleeve. He called to a little Negro girl in the yard, "Gal, go +bring de white lady a rockin' cheer", and turning to me he said, "You'll +'scuse me for not gittin' up lak I ain't got no manners, won't you +Mistess? I got a misery in my laig; you know de one whar I got shot in +de war."</p> +<p class="pnext">The rocking chair was brought out and taking a seat nearby I said, +"Uncle John, I want you to tell me all about yourself, were you in the +war and are you really a hundred and three years old?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Glad to, glad to mistess, but fust don't you want a watermillon?" He +pointed to a patch nearby where the melons glistened in the sun. "Dis +July sun make de juice so sweet you'll smack yo' mouf for mo'," and +searching the rind to see that he had left none of the juicy red meat, +Uncle John began his story.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I been livin' 'roun' dese parts 'bout ninety year. I +was born somewar in North Ca'lina, I don't 'member much 'bout my +Mammy an' Pappy 'cause I was took 'way from dem by de speckerlaters +when I was 'bout thirteen year ole. De speckerlaters raised Niggers +to sell. Dey would feed 'em up an' git 'em fat and slick and make +money on 'em. I was sold off de block in 'Speckerlater's Grove' in +North Ca'lina. De fus' day I was put up I didn't sold, but de nex' +day I brung a thousand dollars. Mr. Saddler Smith from Selma bought +me. Dey called him Saddler Smith cause he was in de saddle business +and made saddles for de army. Dey fotch us down on boats. I 'member +de song de men on de boat singed. Hit go like dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Up an' down de Mobile Ribber,</div> +<div class="line">Two speckerlaters for one po' lil nigger.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"My marster was de best in dis country. He didn't had many niggers, but +he sho' tuck good keer o' dem what he did had. He didn't 'low nobody to +hit 'em a lick. Sometime when I would git cotch up wid in some diverment +de white folks would say, 'Whose nigger is you?" and I say, 'Marse +Saddler Smith.' Den dey look at each oder an' say kinder low, 'Better +not do nothin' to ole Smith's nigger. He'll raise de debil.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"I didn't had no mistiss. My marster was a widder. He raised me up +workin' 'roun' de saddle shop. I ain't never liked to work nowhow, but +don't tell nobody dat. I was bout twenty seven year ole when de war +broke out. De ole uns was called out fust and de young uns stayed home +and practiced so dey could shoot straight an' kill a Yankee. Us +practiced every Friday evenin'. Course I didn't know what dey fightin' +'bout. I jes' knowed dey was mad 'bout somepin'. Atter while Marster's +son Jim j'ined de 'Federate sogers an' I went wid him for to tote his +knapsack, canteen and sichlike and to look atter him. Dat's when I got +dese here balls in my side and got a bullet in my laig, too. I was +movin' de hawses to de back of de lines out de thick of de fight when, +zipp, a minit ball cotch me right in de shoulder."</p> +<p class="pnext">Proudly John displayed the balls in his side and the scar on his leg. +The old woman, at whose cabin John was visiting, interrupted the story +several times. Finally he got tired of it and said: "Shet yo' mouf +'oman, I don't need no ho'p, dis is grown folks talk, you don't know +nothin' 'bout it, you wasn't even birthed tell two year 'fo' de +Surrender. Now whar was I at? I slep' right by Marsa Jim's side. +Sometime atter us done laid down and bofe of us be thinkin' 'bout home, +Marse Jim say, 'John, I lak to have some chicken.' I don't say nothin' I +jes' ease up an' pull my hat down over my eyes an' slip out. Atter while +I come back wid a bunch o'chickens crost my shoulder. Nex' mornin' Marse +Jim have nice brown chicken floatin' in graby what I done cook for him. +Us was fightin' on Blue Mountain when Marse Jim got kilt. I looked and +looked for him but I never did find him. Atter I lost my marster I +didn't 'long to nobody and de Yankee's was takin' eve'y thing anyhow, so +dey tuck me wid dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I tuck keer of Gen'l Wilson's hawse, Gen'l Wilson was de head man in de +Yankee army. But I didn't lak dey ways much. He wanted his hawse kep' +spick and span. He would take his white pocket hankercher an' rub over +de hawse and if it was dirty he had me whupped. I was wid Gen'l Wilson +when he tuck Selma 'gins't Gen'l Forrest and sot fire to all dem things. +I drive de artillery wagon sometime. Atter Surrender I was kinda puny +wid de balls in my side."</p> +<p class="pnext">"John," I asked, "why didn't they remove the balls at the time +you were shot?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"How could dey 'move de balls when I was runnin' fast as I could pick up +my foots? I driv de stagecoach twixt Selma and Montgomery. I 'member my +stops. Dey was Selma, Benton, Lown'esboro and Mon'gomery. I driv four +hawses to it. Dere was a libbery stable at Benton and I changed hawses +dere."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now John tell me about your wife and children," I said. "How many +children did you have?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Gawd, I don't know mistess. Dey runnin' 'roun' de country like hawgs. +Dey don't know me an' I don't know dem. I ain't never been mai'ed. +Niggers didn't marry in dem days. I jes' tuk up wid one likely gal atter +anoder. I ain't even mai'ed to de one I got now. I jes' ain't gwine tie +myse'f down. Effen I's free, I's gwine to be free."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle John sat for a time in deep thought, then said, "I wish I mought +be back in dem days, 'cause I been seed de debil since I been free. +Atter I was free I didn't had no marster to 'pend on and I was hongry a +heap of times. I 'long to de 'Federate nation and always will 'long to +y'all, but I reckon it's jes' as well we is free 'cause I don't b'lieve +de white folks now days would make good marsters."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle John had about talked out and as I rose to leave I said, "Thank +you John, this will make a good story," to which he replied indignantly, +"Hit ain't no story. Hit's de Gawd's trufe mistess."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="annie-stanton"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id171">Annie Stanton</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with "Aunt Annie" Stanton</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Rylands Lane, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Out on Ryland's Lane is an old negro woman 84 years of age who is +totally blind, but whose mind is clear in regards to things pertaining +to the long ago.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Annie" says that things that happened when she was a child are +much more vivid in her mind than are things of today. She said "Sumtimes +I now starts tuh do dumpin' an' fogits what I wants tuh do, den I ahs +tuh go bac' tuh de place whar I started from so I kin 'member whats I +started tuh do".</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Annie" was born on Knight's Place on the Alabama River, June 2nd., +1853. This place is now known as Finchburg, in Monroe County, Alabama. +Her mother's name was Mary Knight and her father's name was Atlas +Williams, who had the same name as his owner, Mr. Offord Williams. "Aunt +Annie's" mother's people were owned first by Mr. Cullen Knight and after +his death, were owned by Mr. John Marshall.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Annie" was seven years old then the Civil War started, and that +she had "nursed two cullered chillun afore de war."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked by the writer about nursing these children, so as to be sure +she said colored children, she replied, "dat de slaves lived on de +plantation, and dey had an overseer who libed on dis place, an' she +neber seed de Marshall's place 'til after dey was freed. As I growed +bigger into a big yearlin' gal I was tuk intuh de oversee'rs home to +'tend tuh de dinin' room table sich as settin' hit an' washin' de dishes +an' cleanin' up, an' later on I was showed how to iron, spin thread, +weave cloth, and make candles. Honey, folks talkin' 'bout depression now +don't kno' nothin' 'bout hard times. In dem days folks didn't hab +nothin' 'ceptin' what dey made. Eben if yo' had a mint ob money, dere +was nothin' to buy. We made de candles to burn by tying strings on the +stick and puttin' dem down in melted tallow in moulds. In dem times we +had no matches, folks made fire by strikin' flint rocks together an' de +fire droppin' on cotton. I don't know whether dese rocks were ones dat +de Indians lef' or no, but day was dif'rent from other rocks. People +usta carry dem an' de cotton roun' in boxes sumtin lak snuff boxes tuh +keep de cotton dry. Sumtimes when dey could'nt get de fire no odder way, +dey would put de cotton in de fireplace and shoot up in dere an' set hit +on fire."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Annie" said she never could start a fire with the flint rock and +cotton, and she said, "de fust matches and lantern I'se eber seed was +when de Yankees cum tuh dere place, I th'ot dey was two officers, 'couse +dey had de matches and lantern. Two years a'ter I was freed, an' twar +den I seed mah first lamp.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De men did mos' ob de farm wurk, dey planted cotton, corn, potatoes, +cane, peas and pumpkins, an' dey ginned de cotton by hitching four +horses tuh de gin, and dey run hit dat way."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked if they had plenty to eat when they were slaves, "Aunt Annie" +said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lor', yes I guess we had 'nough, but, 'tearn't much, c'ase I 'members +when we was li'l chillun we had a big wooden tray dat dey put de food in +and we all set 'round dat an' et like li'l pigs. De rations for a week +was 3 lbs of meat a week, 1 peck ob meal, potatoes an' syrup. At +Christmas times de overseer called all de men an' women in an' gib each +woman a dress, a head handkerchief, an' tuh de men he gave a hat, knife, +an' a bottle of whiskey. De overseer also gib tuh us flour and sugar fo' +Christmas, an' I 'members one Christmas when I was a li'l gal, a'ter de +overseer gib all de women a dress dere was a short piece ob cloth lef' +an' he gib dat tuh me." "Aunt Annie" said "dat de slaves went tuh de +white folks church, an' sot on de seats on de outside ob de church, an' +dat church was a hewed log building. Atter de white folks got thro' +preachin', den de cullered preacher would preach. Sumtimes de cullered +folks would hab church when de white folks didn't an' den de slaves +would hab tuh get a pass from his owner, 'ca'se dere would be some mean +folks what would beat de niggers ef dey didn't hab a pass from dere +owners or bosses."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Annie" also said, "I'se neber hyeard of no hoodoo stuff 'til in +late years, dey's mo' ob dat foolishness now dan I'se ebber hyeard of in +mah life. Nowadays de hoodoos doctors, what is allus agoin' 'round +foolin' folks out ob dey money, looks lack de dogs might ob and' dem, +dey is so turrible lookin'. I don't believes in dem. Us folks a long +time ago neber hab no money fo' dem to git. Us had tuh make own +medicine. When de babies had de colic us wud tie soot up in a rag an' +boil it, and den gib dem de water, an' tuh ease de prickly heat us used +cotton wood powdered up fine, and fo' de yellow thrash us would boil de +sheep thrash an' gib em de tea."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Aunt Annie" has been married twice, her first husband left her years +ago, when she married Louis Stanton and had five children by him. Louis +was killed in a hailstorm, April 13, 1903, and all of her children are +dead. She is now being cared for by friends, and she said, "that ef I's +didn't git a li'l he'p from de Government tuh gib dis frien'" she didn't +know what she would do as she has been totally blind for two years.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="theodore-fontaine-stewart"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id172">Theodore Fontaine Stewart</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Theodore Fontaine Stewart</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, [HW: Eufaula]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">US GWINE 'ER WALK DEM GOLD STREETS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"De years are mighty long widout Lottie, Massa. She done gone on to de +promise; but I knows she wid Jesus. And us gwine 'er walk dem golden +streets together holdin' hands."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Theodore Fontaine Stewart lives alone in a weather-beaten, +one-room Eufaula shanty. It is clean and surrounded by flowers. In the +rear is a small garden; and there you will find Uncle Stewart when the +dawn is fresh or the dusk is coolly approaching.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lottie been gone away nigh onto twenty-two year now, Massa. Her was a +good woman; one of de best de Lord ever sont to de earth."</p> +<p class="pnext">He paused to think when the interviewer asked his age.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It hard fer me to tell 'bout dat," he said, "but I knows I'se well past +de ninety mark. I guess I'se gwine on a hundred, caze I was borned 'fore +de war an' was a right peart boy at de surrender."</p> +<p class="pnext">"What about slavery times, Uncle Stewart?"</p> +<p class="pnext">He mused a moment, his black fingers gently caressing the buttons on his +rust-colored old vest.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members all 'bout dem times," he said, "an' de Lord know dey was +better times den we got now, for white or black. Nobody was hongry den, +Massa, and peoples didn't git in de devilment dey gits in now. Folks +went to de church an' 'haved demselves in dose days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Who was my Ol' Marster?" He looked at the interviewer a moment, +answered proudly, "Why, he was de riches' man in Georgy. I knows you has +heard of Marse Theodore Fontaine. He had three big plantations and mo' +niggers dan he could count. He moved clost to Florence, an' his three +places was so big you couldn't see 'crost de littlest field.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster he lib in a big house, bigger dan any meetin'-house in +Eufaula. He had a gang of fine horses, an' when company was dar he had +horse races on his own track. His horses could beat all de horses +brought dar, an' dat's de direc' trufe."</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Stewart filled a blackened old corncob pipe with tobacco, +continued:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster, he didn't go to de war. He too ol' to go, so he stay home +an' make corn an' fodder an' oats an' sen' dem to de soldiers what +killin' Yankees. One day de Yankees come along an' burnt up everything +on de place, 'cept de nigger cabins. Dey took all de horses and +everything us had to eat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster went off somewhar when dey come; I don't 'member where; an' +when he come back he had to live in one of de nigger cabins 'twel he +could build a house. But de new one wasn't big lak de old one.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy was a fiel' han' 'twel one time Ol' Marster put him on a horse +to ride in a race, an' pappy beat de other horse so far Ol' Marster was +tickled pink. He said a nigger what could ride lak dat had no bizness in +de fiel', so he made a stable boy outen pappy.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-132"> +<span id="id55"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Theodore Fontaine Stewart" src="images/image362stewart.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Theodore Fontaine Stewart, Eufaula, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Ol' Marster didn't have no Ol' Mistus. He say he so big all de little +ladies look funny 'side of him. When company was dar his sisters, Mistus +Mary an' Mistus Lucy, come an' kep' house; but dey lef' when de company +did.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My pappy was name Ed Stewart, caze Ol' Marster buy him from a Stewart. +Atter de war dey call pappy's chilluns Stewart; but us is Fontaines by +right, bet yo' life on dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marster was good to de niggers, but his overseers was mean. +Ol' Marster fired dem atter awhile an' got some good overseers. He +didn't 'low dem to whip a nigger 'cept when he say, an' he didn't say +so much.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy was name' Sarah, an' her an' pappy stayed right wid Ol' +Marster when de surrender come. Dey was right in de room when Ol' +Marster died, an' dey cried something awful. Us all stayed dar 'twel +pappy an' mammy die; den us chilluns split up an' went everywhere.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mammy an' pappy had ten head o' chilluns sides me, but I don' know whar +dey at now. Mammy raise all her chilluns right, an', long as I knowed +dem, none of dem ever got in a jailhouse.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mammy didn't 'low her chilluns to steal. Her was Ol' Marster's house +cook, an' when she kotch any of us takin' things from de kitchen, she +sho' did tan us hides wid a brush.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Me an' Carlotta; us calls her Lottie; was married in de ol' Mount Maria +church, whar all de niggers went to meetin' every Sunday. Us had fo' +chillun, two gals an' two boys; but dey all dead now 'cept de las' boy, +an I ain't heard frum him since 'fore his mammy died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, Massa, her was a good woman. It won't be long now 'fore us will +walk dem golden streets han' in han'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="george-strickland"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id173">George Strickland</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with George Strickland</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">CORNSHUCKIN' WAS DE GREATES' THING</em></p> +<p class="pnext">George Strickland, alert for all his ninety-one years but blinking in +the bright sunlight as he laid his battered felt hat beside the rocking +chair in front of his cabin in Opelika, Alabama, as he looked back down +the decades and remembered the times when "cornshuckin' was de greates' +thing." Though only a boy when the War between the States ended, he +recalled days of slavery easily as he told the following story.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was nine years old when us niggers was sot free an' 'fo' dat time us +refugeed from Mississippi to Mobile, den to Selma, den to Montgomery an' +from dar to Uchie, near Columbus, Georgia, whar we stayed 'til us was +freed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy an' daddy come from Mississippi fust. Dey was Cleveland an' +Eve Strickland an' dar was fo' of us chilluns, Will, Sam, Missouri an' +me. Us quarters had dirt flo's an' was in two long rows wid a street +between. On de east side of de settlement was de barns, shops an' sich +like. De beds was boxed up an' nailed to de wall, den dey was filled wid +pinestraw. Dey fed us li'l niggers in wood troughs made of poplar. De +cook in de big house cooked pots of greens an' po'd potlikker an' all in +de troughs. Us et hit wid mussel shells or wid usses han's or gourds. +Our wimmin folks would bile de gourds to keep dem from being bitter. +Usses had two acre paster dat usses would turn under in de fall an' +plant hit in turnips. I 'clare fo' goodness dey growed nearly as big as +a gallon bucket.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey gived us clo'es ev'y Saddy night an' de winter clo'es had some cow +hair in dem to make 'em warm.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marsa John Strickland was circuit preacher an' him an' Miss Polly +lived up in a big log house. De logs was hewed an' split an' lined on +each side. De logs stood on dey sides an' didn' lay flat. Dey chilluns +was Mary, Laura, Sallie, Wiley, George an' Lougene.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When Ol' marsa went off to preach, de overseer was mean an' whupped de +niggers so bad Mistis runned him off. Dey had 'bout a hundred slaves an' +would wake dem up by beating on a big piece of sheet ine (iron) wid a +long piece of steel.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De well didn' hab no windless but had a lever wid a bucket fastened on +one end of hit, an' we would hold to de yuther end to dip de bucket in +de water.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When dey whupped de niggers dey would tie dem to a tree an' whup dem +good. When dey was sold dey would put 'em on a stand or block, as dey +called hit den, an' dey w'ud roll up dey sleeves to see de muscles. Den +dey bid on dem an' bought 'em for 'bout $1,000 to $1,500 apiece. Us +traveled in ox carts, an' I fust rid on a stage when I went to Uchie. +When slaves would be ver' bad dey would chain dem out all night. You +sho' had to stay at home an' wuk.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our chu'ch was nearby an' us sot nex' to de do'. Mistis called up all +de li'l niggers, talked to dem an' had pra'r. De yuthers had pra'r +meetin' oncet a week.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De wimmin folks had a big time quiltin's wid somebody aplayin' on ol' +gourds wid horse hair strings, called old gourd, horse hair dance.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Cornshuckin' was de greates' thing of all. Ol' Marsa tuck a jug of +likker 'roun' an' got dem tight an' when dey got full dey would h'ist +him up an' down, tote him 'roun' an' holler. Den de fun started an' dey +would play de old gourd an' horse hair dance, de han'saw an' case knife. +Dey could run dey han' up an' down de saw to change de tune an' de +leader was on top of de pile of corn singin' whilst all de yuthers +would follow.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us chilluns was 'sleep den, but us had our good times hidin' de switch +an' playin' han'-over ball. Dey sho' skeer us nearly into fits wid tales +of Rawhead and Bloody-bones.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se never tuk a oath ner teched nothin' didn' b'long to me in all my +life.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Our med'cin' was Jerus'lem oak seed what was beat up to give de +chilluns for worms.</p> +<p class="pnext">"On Sund' mornin' dey giv' us biskits for breakfast, which was so rar' +dat we would try to beat de yuthers outten dey'n.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oncet dey piled ev'ythin' on waggins an' put all us li'l niggers on +top. Us rations, lak coffee, meal, meat an' mos' ev'ythin' was kivvered +over wid sheets. Den dey tuk us off an' us stayed t'ree days an' nights.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' marsa tuk one of de fellers wid him to be on de front line to help +keep off de Injuns, so us chilluns b'lieves.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-133"> +<span id="id56"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="George Strickland" src="images/image365strickland.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +George Strickland, Opelika, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Dat battle of Atlanta was de wust thing dat's ever been. All de houses +for a fur piece jes' shuck from de big guns. De Yankees camped in a big +hundred acre fiel' close by. Den dey rushed up to de house, kicked de +gate down, tuk Mistiss trunk out an' bus' hit open huntin' money. But +dey foun' none, so dey sot fire to de house an' ast, whar de horses? De +niggers couldn' tell an' den dey burnt de house down.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter dat, Ol' Marsa tell us, us is free from him but needn't leave +iffen us didn' want to go, but could stay on wid him an' he'd treat us +right an' give us half of what us made.</p> +<p class="pnext">"In after years I ma'ed Josephine Bedell an' us had George, Phillip, +Renza, Eldridge (de baby), May Willie an' Leila. I's got some +gran-chillun, too, but kain't think of dey names.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hit was de plans of God to free us niggers an' not Abraham Lincoln's.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I's allus tried to live under de correction of de Lord. Hit's my duty +to try to do so."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="cull-taylor"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id174">Cull Taylor</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Cull Taylor</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">364 N. Scott Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">A SLAVE IS GIVEN HIS YOUNG MISSY'S NAME</em></p> +<p class="pnext">A tall, stoop-shouldered, black Negro man came trudging down the road +with a hoe in his hand. Asked where Cull Taylor lived, the old man said, +"Lady I'se Cull Taylor. Dis is mah house here. Does you want to see me?"</p> +<p class="pnext">When told that his visitor was looking for old people who lived during +slavery days Cull said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I were born a slave, but warn't very old when de niggers was freed. I +were born March 5, 1859, in Augusta County, Alabama. Mah maw come from +Richmond, Virginia and her name were Jane Hare. Mah paw's name were +Willingham Hare, and he were brought to Alabama from North Carolina. I +guess you'se wonderin' why mah name is Taylor when mah maws and paws +name was Hare?</p> +<p class="pnext">"You see when dey was fust brought here, a man name Tom Taylor bought +'em, an' when I were born, dey gib me to Miss Bennie Taylor. Ol' Marse +Tom's girl. Miss Bennie gib me de name Taylor an' I'se allus kept hit. +She shorely was good to me. I neber had nothing much to do, I stayed wid +her, 'til I was grown, atter she married Mr. Bob Alexander.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout de war, I does 'member how mah maw was a-weavin' cloth when de +Yankees come through. An' atter de niggers was freed ol' Marse Tom gib +mah maw de loom.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' Marse was a good man. He neber 'lowed no o'seer or anybody to +mistreat his niggers. He had plenty of 'em, too, and a big plantation +wid plenty to eat. Course de slaves had to work on de plantation an' +raise de stuff to eat. His house was a big fine, white place, an' de +cabins whar de slaves libed was built in rows, wid streets between dem, +so you could drive 'tween 'em wid big double team wagons. De cabins was +built out ob logs wid a notch out in de shoulders, an' laid on top ob +one another an' when dey built de wall up as high as dey wanted hit, dey +would bore a augor hole an' put a pin in hit to hold 'em together. Den +dey put de roof on. Dey filled de cracks between de logs wid mortar, so +as to keep de wind out, an' it sho' made de houses warm. Us had jes' +wooden home-made beds, wid mattresses made of cotton, or moss, an' +sometimes hay. Us neber hab no springs on de beds.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As I said, Ol' Marse Tom was a good man, an' he was too old to go to de +war, but he had two boys. De oldest one went to de war an' was killed. +But de youngest warn't old enough to go. Ol' Marse Tom had de women sew, +makin' clothes, an' had nurse women to look atter de little niggers +while dere maws was in de fields. I 'members as a li'l boy how dey had +one house whar de nurse kept de chillun an' it was as clean as a pin. +Dere was wooden troughs different heights for de different age chillun, +an' dose troughs was scrubbed as white as cotton mos'. When meal time +come, dey would crumble up cornbread wid pot licker, or milk an' gib to +de youngest ones. An' dey had plenty ob milk, I 'members de big milk +dairy, an' smoke house on de place, an' when de Yankees come through dey +went into de dairy an' drank all de milk dey wanted.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members mah paw was out in de woods hidin' de mules when dey come +through an' dere was only one old horse on de place. Dem Yankees turn +hit loose, but otherwise dey behaved very nice."</p> +<p class="pnext">Cull said that they didn't know anything about dishes and spoons such as +are used now, for they had wooden spoons for the slaves. He said that +the usual rations for a week included a peck of meal, and six or seven +pounds of meat to each man, and if he had a big family he was given +more. They raised rice, sugar cane, pumpkins, watermelons, cushaws, +peaches, pears, plums and grapes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mah white folks not only tuk keer ob us durin' slavery times, but dey +gib us things atter us was freed. You ax me 'bout de slaves clothes? +Yas'm, lady, us had good, stout, clothes, made out ob de cloth dat de +women wove. I can see mah maw throwing dat ol' shickle from one side to +de other, weaving cloth on dat loom. Dey dyed de cloth wid red oaks an' +dogwood bark, and Chinaberry bark, and had all kinds ob colors, sich as +blue, red, brown, and black.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den dere was de big times, sich as de hog killin' time, an' corn +shucking, an' 'specially cotton pickin' time. Sometimes de neighboring +plantation would hab a regular cotton pickin' festival, an' all ob us +would go and he'p pick de cotton, and de nigger what would pick de mos' +would git a dress or de men would git a suit ob clothes. De suits was +made out ob osnaburg, and sometimes bed tickin'. When a big crowd would +come to dese cotton pickin's, dey would pick out three or four bales ob +cotton.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De li'l niggers had a good time playin' in de sand makin' frog houses, +an' spinnin' tops. But, Lordy! when us got sick, dey gib us Jerusalem +oak and sassafras tea. But neber was dere anything said 'bout hoo-doo +stuf. I never heard ob hit, 'til dese later years.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But us did hab church, an' prayer meetin', an' funerals! Lor', yes, dey +don't bury folks now. In dose days dey started singin' at de house an' +sung all de way to de graveyard; an' den dey put dem in de groun' good +full six feet deep, dey jes' lays folks on top ob de groun' now-a-days. +But times is different now, lady.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members how de men would go out nights an' hunt de possums an' de +coons, and wild cats. Dey den would sometimes go deer an' rabbit huntin' +in de daytime; an', too, dey would set traps to ketch other varmints. +Dere was plenty ob squirrels too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But let me tell you, de bes' thing ob all, was de good locust beer, dey +made from locust seeds. Dey also made 'simmon beer, an' wine out ob +plums. Dem war good days den."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="daniel-taylor"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id175">Daniel Taylor</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Daniel Taylor</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Montgomery, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">John Proctor Mills, Montgomery, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Foreword:—In Uncle Daniel Taylor we find the unusual, fast disappearing +type of negro ex-slave (it makes the sentimental white man feel a deep +sadness in the passing of these gentle old souls, whose lives have been +well spent in serving to the best of their ability.) Uncle Dan is a +light complected mulatto (octoroon) with a high and broad forehead (a +noble brow) devoid of all negroid features, a heavy suit of silk-like +hair almost free of any kinks, a heavy suit of gray beard (it is in the +short kinky hair next to his throat that the negro stands out most +prominently) a fine moustache which matches the snowy silkiness of his +hair up on his head. Deep set, dark blue-grey eyes which beam with +kindliness, wide apart and far-searching. A voice well modulated and +refined in timbre, of tenor quality. Uncle Dan has been so closely +associated with the educated white man of the South until he uses no +negro dialect, but his speech is that of one who has tried at all times +to speak correctly and deliberately. He has served as janitor at nearly +all of the Public Schools of the Montgomery City Schools system, and for +fifteen years or more has been at the Baldwin High School; is janitor at +this school at present (May 1937) where he is highly respected, and +greatly beloved by the student body and members of the large faculty.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Strange to say, I do not remember the name of my first master, nor of +the second master to whom my Mother and myself were sold to in Alabama. +I was born at Charleston, South Carolina, and at the age of two and a +half years we landed at Luverne, Ala., where with my Mother I was sold +for four-hundred dollars.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was fourteen years old at the time of the 'Surrender,' and was living +at old 'Rocky Mount' in Crenshaw County, at the time of the 'Civil War.' +Professor Mack Barnes of Highland Home, Alabama, was the first man I +ever worked for, and he, as you know, was at the head of the large +school located in Highland Home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The hottest moments of my life were the ones in which my Mother got +tight in behind me with a hickory (switch) and I always took to the +woods. I'll just bet that I knew and could tell more about the woods and +the cane-brake than anyone in that section. Yes sir! I knew every +varmint that crawled on its belly, and all the rest which went on four +feet, that lived there. Believe me, I knew every one of them by name and +right where they stayed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The hot moments just mentioned usually found me 'cooling off' in the +creek in the old swimmin' hole.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-134"> +<span id="id57"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Daniel Taylor" src="images/image373taylor.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Daniel Taylor, Montgomery, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Among the thrilling moments of my life well do I remember the visits of +President Jefferson Davis, (the first and only President of the +Confederate States of America) to the home of my Master. Mr. Davis +always gave me a quarter of a dollar for holding his horse, and up 'til +lately I had one of those quarters as a highly valued keep-sake, but it +suddenly disappeared, I know not where.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The most exciting moments of my whole life was when the Herron Street +School (at present the Cottage Hill School) caught fire and burned to +the ground. We had marched all of the children out of the building to +safety (you see we had all had disciplined fire drills) but Professor +Charles L. Floyd (Superintendent of the Montgomery Public Schools) was +mindful lest there should still be one person left in the building, so +hastened back into the rapidly burning building. He just wouldn't listen +to the pleadings of Miss Jinny (Miss Virginia Hereford, who was the +Principal of this school) nor to Miss Sophy (Miss Sophia Holmes) a +teacher at the primary department, nor would he listen to my humble +plea. The roof was already tumbling in, and the blazing rafters were +falling in every direction. I could stand it no longer, so rushed right +through the smoke and flames, finally I found Mr. Floyd and dragged him +out to safety. My God! I loved that white man, he was one of the finest +men I ever knew!</p> +<p class="pnext">"No! Mister John, I have never sought a 'heroe's medal for bravery and +for risking my life', my one great reward was in the saving of the life +of my true friend Professor Charles L. Floyd."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="george-taylor"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id176">George Taylor</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with George Taylor</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">409 South Hamilton Street, Mobile, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ila B. Prine, Mobile, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">CHILLUN WAS TAUGHT TO BE MANNERABLE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">George Taylor, an old and very black man, who lives at 409 South +Hamilton street in Mobile, says he is an ex-slave. He knows that he was +born in Mobile on the corner of Cedar and Texas streets, but left +Mobile, and was carried to Gosport, Alabama, when he was twelve years +old. His father's name was Gus Taylor and his mother's Sarah Taylor, and +they were owned by Mr. W.G. Herrin. There were twenty-one children in +George's family, and he said he was the oldest one, and helped "nuss de +odders."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mah grandfather's name was Mac Wilson an' mah grandmother's name was +Ellen Wilson, an' de ol' Miss's name was Miss Mamie Herrin. All de +colored folks' chillun called Mr. Herrin 'Cl' Marster, an' he sho' was a +good marster, too. I 'members dat atter I got to be a big boy dey put me +in de fiel's choppin' cotton, but I neber could pick cotton. I knows dat +mah paw said I was too crazy 'bout de girls, so he tuk me an' made me +plow.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ol' marster had a big place, I don't jes' exactly knows how many acres +dey was, but I knows us had plenty ob cotton, 'ca'se sometimes dey would +pick four or five bales a day. An' den I knows durin' cotton time mah +paw hauled cotton all day long to de gin whut was run by five or six +mules.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Durin' de busy season on de plantation ol' Marster had de older women +cookin' an' sendin' de dinner to de fiel'. Dere was two big baskets, one +to put de bread in, an' de odder basket to put de meat in. Every mornin' +at three o'clock de women begun cookin' an' each han' brought his own +meat an' bread to this cabin to be cooked. Every person's plate had +their names on 'em. Ever'body had to be up by daylight an' ready to +begin work. De men had to get up before daylight an' begin to harness +de mules, an' soon as light dey was in de fiel's. Dere was two hundred +and fifty head ob colored people, 'scusing chillun. Dey would raise +four, five, and six hundred bales ob cotton, a year. Us worked den, dere +warn't no walkin' 'bout den, not eben on Sat'day atternoons, but I +believes I'd lack it betta dan I does now, 'cause de chillun was taught +to be mannerable den, but now dey cuss if you say anything to dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us had a good place to stay, de ol' Marster's house was a big two-story +house, an' our cabins was built ob boards an' was in a row. Us didn't +hab no stoves, jes' cooked out in de yard ober a fire wid stakes on each +side of hit, wid an' iron bar across 'em to hang de pots on. Ol' Marster +rationed out de food, an' each man was 'lowed seven pounds ob meat, de +women was 'lowed six pounds an' five pounds for each child. Den dey gib +us a peck ob meal, five pounds of flour and some molasses.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I neber did eat at home wid mah folks, 'ca'se I nussed in de big house, +an' ebery time dat de white chillun eat, I had to eat, too. Dere was +plenty ob pecan, walnut, an' ches'nut trees on de place, an' us could +eat all de nuts we wanted; and den de slaves had dere own gardens if dey +wanted to.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Den I 'members how dere was four men who put de hogs in de pens to +fatten, sometimes, dey would put as many as a hundred or a hundred an' +fifty at a time. Den hit was dere duty to tote feed from de fiel's to +feed 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My! when I think ob dat big smoke house, mah mouth jes' waters. At hog +killin' time, dere was certain men to kill, an' certain ones to cut 'em +up. Dere warn't neber no special time to hog killin', jes' when de ol' +Marster said do hit, we did hit.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You see us was allus under his direction, 'ca'se if us wanted to go +anywhere, us had to git a pass, eben to church. De white folks had +Methodist church, an' de collored had de Baptist church.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I also 'members de time I was put up on de block to be sold, an' when +de man only offered five hundred dollars, fer me, an' Ol' Marster tole +me to git down, dat I was de mos' valuable nigger he had, 'ca'se I was +so strong, an' could do so muck work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mah maw was de weaver, an' dere was a woman named Assella who did de +dyeing. Mah paw gathered de bark, sich as red oak, elm, maple and +juniper bark, an' dry hit an' den grin' hit up. Dey also used borax, +alum and blue stone, to set de dye. De women made de clothes out ob dis +cloth dat was woven on de place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You axed 'bout weddin's. Us didn't hab weddin's lack us do now. De way +us married would be to go to de big house, an' ol' Marster had us to +jump over a broom stick, an' den us was considered married. But dere was +one thing dat us warn't 'lowed to do, an' dat was to abuse or cuss our +wives, an' you betta not strike 'em, ca'se hit would be jes' too bad.</p> +<p class="pnext">"You know, Miss, I'se been here a long time. I 'members when dere was +only one house 'tween St. Louis Street an' Frascati, an' dat was de +Guard House. I also 'members de ole time remedies dat dey used in de ole +days. Dey used red oak bark for fever an' colds, an' den dere was +hoarhound, an' black snake root dat de ol' Marster put whiskey on. Ol' +Marster made his own whiskey. An' oh! yes, de calomus root growed in de +woods whar dey lived. I neber seed dem send to no store for medicine. I +neber hyeard ob no hoodoo stuff, 'till I was grown, an' anudder thing +folks didn't die of lack dey do now. When any one did die, dey allus had +a big funeral, an' de men would sometimes hitch up a ox team or mule +teams, an' as many as could git in would go. De coffins was home made +an' stained. Dere was plenty ob han's to dig de graves, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'se tell you, Miss, folks is pretty much de same, if de white folks +treat de niggers right, you couldn't get dem to leave dem. I 'members +when de Yankees come through, I was standin' on de Ol' Marster's porch, +an' I seed dem comming, an' Marster got up on his crutch an' go to de +steps an' invite dem in, an' believe me dey come in, too. Dey jes' +natcherly tore up ol' Marster's place; then de furniture all 'roun' an' +broke heaps ob hit. I knows b'fore dey got dere ol' Marster had mah paw, +an' Jerry Lee, an' Mace Pouncey, an' anudder man take four barrels ob +money an' carry down to de spring an' put hit in de spring, an' I'se +tellin' you, Miss, you couldn't any more git near dat spring, dan +nothin', ca'se de quicksan' made dem barrels boil up, one at a time, an' +de way dey had to git dem barrels, was to buil' a scaffold from de +river, an' let a line down an' ketch aroun' dem barrels.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter we was freed, Ol' Marster come out in de yard an' got in de +middle ob all ob us, an' tole us dat de ones dat wants to stay wid him, +to stan' on one side, an' de odders to stan' on de odder side. So mah +paw got on de side wid dose who wanted to leave, an' us lef' Ol' Marster +an' paddled down de river, in a paddlin' boat to Belle's Landing.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As I'se said before, I'se been here a long time, I eben 'members seeing +Jeff Davis. I knows I ain't here for long, but I'se ready, 'ca'se I'se +been fightin' for Jesus twenty-nine years, an' I ain't tired ob fightin' +yet. I'se a Deacon in de Baptist Church."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="amanda-tellis"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id177">Amanda Tellis</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal interview with Amanda Tellis</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">and her daughter Sarah Chastan</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">in Allenville, Mobile County, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Written by Ila B. Prine</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Amanda Tellis, a tall, thin, light lulatto woman, who was born a slave +November 30, 1854, lives in Allenville, a negro settlement about four +miles north of Mobile, Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">Amanda's father was a spaniard, whose name was John Quick, and her +mother's name was Sallie Pugh, her mother having the same name as the +people who owned her. Sallie, Amanda's mother, was born a slave in +Charleston South Carolina, and she and her mother were brought to +Alabama and sold when Sallie was twelve years old. The mother was sold +to someone in Demopolis, Alabama, while Sallie was sold to the Pugh +family in Grove Hill, Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">Amanda was born in Grove Hill, Alabama and Mr. Meredith Pugh was her +master, and Mrs. Fannie Pugh was her mistress. Her young "Missus" was +Miss Maria Pugh, a daughter, one of seven children in the Pugh family. +Amanda said she willed to "Miss Maria" and she nursed and took care of +her until the surrender. Many times when Amanda would be promised a +whipping for not doing things as she should have, Miss Maria would save +her from the whipping, by throwing herself back from the table and +screaming for them not to touch Amanda, her nurse.</p> +<p class="pnext">Aside from caring for "Miss Maria", Amanda said she spun three cuts of +thread a day, and when the writer asked what a cut was, she said: "A cut +was a broach full." During the war, (meaning the Civil War,) Amanda said +she and her sister Nancy spun 160 yards of cloth, and they finished the +last on the day of the Surrender, when the Cannons were fired at Fort +Morgan, and they were mustering the men out.</p> +<p class="pnext">Amanda's life was a very easy one in comparison to some of the other +slaves. She said she had seen many of the slaves cruelly mistreated, but +her people were fortunate in having a good master and mistress.</p> +<p class="pnext">However, at the close of the war, Amanda was told to pretend she had a +chill, and go to her mother's cabin, so she did as she was told. When +she reached the cabin, her mother, brothers and sisters each had a +pillow slip, filled with clothes and she was given hers and they ran +away, and came to Mt. Vernon, Alabama. Amanda was only eleven years old +then.</p> +<p class="pnext">Her life has been varied since, having married three times. Her first +husband was Scott Johnson, and was the father of all of her children, +seven boys and one girl. Amanda lives with this girl now. Her second +husband was Vance Stokes, and her third was S.T. Tellis, a negro +Methodist preacher. Amanda said he was "no count and I did not stay with +him long."</p> +<p class="pnext">Amanda is now confined to her bed and has been for the past seven weeks, +her body has wasted away, until she is skin and bones. Her eyes however +are still bright and keen, her hair snow white and she still has a few +teeth. Her mind seems to be clear, and her memory good, in fact the past +is now a part of her, and she told the writer she was so happy because +she had come to ask her about it, before it was too late.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="ellen-thomas"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id178">Ellen Thomas</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Ellen Thomas</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">TABLE SERVICE AS TAUGHT TO AUNT ELLEN</em></p> +<p class="pnext">In a little cottage at 310 Wienacker Avenue, in the western part of +Mobile, lives Ellen Thomas, who claims to be 89 years old. She is small +of stature, dark brown in color, with high cheek bones and small regular +features. Although she wears the old-fashioned bandana handkerchief +bound about her head, the story of 'Aunt' Ellen is unusual, in that +having been raised as a house servant in a cultured Southern family, she +absorbed or was trained in the use of correct speech, and does not +employ the dialect common to Negroes of the slavery days.</p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Ellen was born in Mobile. Her mother, Emeline, was a dwarf who +was brought from St. Louis to Mobile by a slave-trader. When put up for +sale, her deformity enlisted the sympathy of Judge F.G. Kimball, who +bought her and brought her to his home on Dauphin Street, between +Hallett Street and Georgia Avenue. Later, Sam Brown, a free Negro from +the West Indies, came to Mobile and, wanting Emeline for his wife, +agreed to pay Judge Kimball for her, giving himself as security. Sam and +Emeline had only two children, Pedro and Ellen, both born on Judge +Kimball's place and raised in his home as house servants, having little +contact with the field slaves.</p> +<p class="pnext">In her childhood, Ellen had as her special mistress Miss Cornelia, one +of the Kimball girls, who trained her in the arts of good housekeeping, +including fine sewing, which was itself an art among the women of that +period. Ellen relates with much pride, her ability to put in tucks and +back-stitch them in the front of men's shirts, to equal the best machine +work of the present day. Although hampered by failing eyesight in recent +years, her work with the needle today is proof that her claims are not +exaggerated.</p> +<p class="pnext">In all her experience as a slave, she recalls but one whipping. This was +with a small switch in the hands of Judge Kimball. The cause? She +answered: "I ain't coming," when he called her; and at his second call, +she said: "I shan't do it." She was seven years old at the time.</p> +<p class="pnext">Judge Kimball insisted that the house servants use good English, she +said. Thus brought up as a child among the Kimball children, and because +of her duties as a house servant, she mingled little with the field +hands and acquired none of their dialect. Even her long association with +free Negroes since the war, has failed to eradicate early impressions +and practices in the use of words, and she stresses this in conversation +with educated white persons.</p> +<p class="pnext">Because she was a house servant, Ellen was accorded many privileges not +enjoyed by ordinary slaves. Good food, neat clothing and cleanliness of +person were requirements rigidly enforced. As personal maid to young +girls little older than herself, her lot was quiet and the association +developed a devotion and friendship that was lifelong. Among the +privileges that fell to her as a child, she recalls that of accompanying +the family on carriage rides—usually seated beside the driver to the +envy of her little mistress on the more dignified inside seat.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-135"> +<span id="id58"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Ellen Thomas" src="images/image382thomas.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Ellen Thomas, Mobile, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">Her training as a house servant was very broad and involved every +feature of a well kept household of that period. She has especial pride +in her ability to serve at table, particularly when there were guests +present. A feature of the training given her and which Ellen says she +never knew of anyone else receiving was, after being taught to set the +dining table complete for guests, she would be blindfolded and then told +to go through the motions of serving and so learn to do so without +disturbing anything on the table. So proficient did she become in +serving, that a few times when they had guests, Judge Kimball would for +their amusement have Ellen blindfolded and direct her to serve the +dinner. In passing dishes a small silver tray was used.</p> +<p class="pnext">Ellen said that they tried to teach her brother Pedro to serve the table +likewise; but his natural clumsiness prevented. He could never learn.</p> +<p class="pnext">During the war, she said, her master had an immense pit dug near the +house, put his cotton in the pit and built the woodpile over it. The +Federal invaders never found it.</p> +<p class="pnext">Judge Kimball owned extensive tracts of land above Mobile and used a +large number of his slaves to cut timber for wood and lumber; hewn +timber being largely used for house-building. He built a house for every +one of his children, from his own timber, and even had his own coffin +made from home-grown cedar. Ellen failed to follow this act of her +master with approval, judging from her tone in speaking of it.</p> +<p class="pnext">She remembers the Surrender and the incidents accompanying that event. +She was seventeen years old. Thus she describes the first visit +afterward of the enemy. "I was helping to cook breakfast one morning, +frying codfish and potatoes, when I heard a drum and ran to tell Master. +He jumped up and said: 'It's the Yankees! Tell Pedro to get a sheet and +hang it out in front.' Pedro was excited and, instead of getting a +sheet, got one of Mistress' best table cloths and hung it from a big oak +tree near the front gate. When the Yankees rode up, they dismounted and +Master invited them in for breakfast."</p> +<p class="pnext">One of the Yankee Lieutenants asked her name, and she told him: "Ellen +Brown." He looked puzzled at her answer, knowing her master's name to be +Kimball. (Since her father was a free man, 'Aunt' Ellen said that she +and her brother, Pedro, always retained their own name, instead of +"Kimball.") The lieutenant then said: "All right, Ellen, bring me a +glass of milk at thirteen o'clock."</p> +<p class="pnext">She went to her little mistress, and asked her "what that old lieutenant +meant by 'thirteen o'clock.'" Miss Cornelia laughed and said he meant +"one o'clock."</p> +<p class="pnext">'Aunt' Ellen related how Judge Kimball was always teaching them and gave +them regular lectures. She particularly remembers one of his sayings: +"You can never swing on yellow pine tree, as it is tender and pliable."</p> +<p class="pnext">She remained with the Kimballs three years after the war, worked for +other families a short time and then married Amos Thomas when she was +about twenty years old. They had a very large family, eleven girls and +nine boys. She now has great-grandchildren who are married.</p> +<p class="pnext">Although there is little doubt that her age is approximately what she +claims, 'Aunt' Ellen is remarkably well preserved, physically and +mentally. Her activity and industry would not be inappropriate to a +woman a score of years younger. Unlike many persons of her years she +does not constantly look forward to her time of departure, but takes +life as it comes—caring more for today than for tomorrow.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="elizabeth-thomas"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id179">Elizabeth Thomas</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Elizabeth Thomas</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Montgomery</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HID THINGS THEY AIN'T NEVER FOUND</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Elizabeth Thomas who lives at 2 Eugene Street, Montgomery, Alabama stuck +up one finger when asked her age. That meant 100 she said. She is +typical the oldtime Negro with head rag tightly covering her hair, +carrying a slick old walking-stick whose bark is worn in places because +of constant use, and little old straightcut full apron. Her memory is +not clear but her hearing is perfect.</p> +<p class="pnext">She stated—</p> +<p class="pnext">"I lived mighty fine in dem days, I tel' you. Mister Ben Martin Jones +was my Marster, and I was born on de Red Bridge Road. I was a house +servant. All our clo'es was made at de quarters. My Mammy made mine an' +all I wanted, too. I useter hear my mammy say, de patteroles (patrols) +would git us ef we done wrong but I didn't know nothin' 'bout +patteroles, 'cause dey wasn't none on our place. Dey whipped you, too, +but my Marster could control all his niggers so he didn't 'low none uv +'em on our place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was 21 years ole when de Yankees come but I didn't run and dey didn't +do nuthin' to me but folks was in such a hurry they hid things dat ain't +never been foun' yet. I liked meetin' on Sundays an' sometime we never +got outer church tell daylight. I wants to live jes' as long as Jesus +say an' when he say go, I'se ready. At Christmas times we always had +good dinners and heap o' company; plenty uv it. My Missus died and atter +dat my mother raised ole Marster's chile, Tommy John, right 'long wid +me. O, dem was happy days, I tell you."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mollie-tillman"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id180">Mollie Tillman</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mollie Tillman</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I WARN'T NO COMMON SLAVE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Mollie Tillman was fifteen years old when the Southern slaves were +freed; but despite her advanced age, she is able to work every day in +the cotton fields and admits that she is "purty peart."</p> +<p class="pnext">She said, "Honey, I kin ricolleck all 'bout slavery time, 'caze I was a +big ol' gal den. Why, I 'members when de 'mancipation come as if 't'was +yestidy."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Mollie recalls that she was born on a plantation near Rome, +Georgia, and that her owners were Dan and Lucy Phillips.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marse Dan was a Baptis' preacher," she explained, "an' he shorely was a +good man. He was a chaplain in de big war and he didn't get hurt.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Marster owned lots an' lots of slaves an' de plantation was jes' full +o' niggers. He was a powerful important man.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Honey, I warn't no common eve'yday slave, I ho'ped de white folks in de +big house. Mistus Lucy wouldn't let 'em take me to de fiel'. Dem was +good days, chile; might good days. I was happy den, but since +'mancipation I has jes' had to scuffle an' work an' do de bes' I kin."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Mollie's hair is snow white in sharp contrast to her ginger-cake +skin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I 'members all 'bout when de Yankees come," she said. "Dey was jes' +ruineration to de plantation. Dey tuck all de mules an' cows, den sont +out an' got all de chickens an' eggs dey could fin'. Eatin' was kind o' +slack wid us atter dey lef'."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Mollie's life has known romance. Let her tell it:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was ol' 'nough to be castin' my eyes 'roun' at de young bucks, an' +dere was a nigger what lived on de plantation jinin' our'n whut tuck a +shine to me. I lacked dat boy fine, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"He would come over to see me ever' time he git a chanct. One night he +'low he gwine'r ax his marster to buy me so's me an' him could git +married. Well, atter dat he didn' come no mo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I waited an' I watched, but I didn' hear nuffin of dat nigger. Atter +'while I got worried. I was 'fraid de patterollers done kotch him, or +maybe he done foun' some gal he lak better dan he do me. So I begin to +'quire 'bout him an' foun' dat his marster done sol' him to a white man +whut tuck him 'way down yonder to Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well ma'am, I grieved fo' dat nigger so dat my heart was heavy in my +breas'. I knowed I never would see him no mo'. Soon atter dat, peace was +'clared an' de niggers was free to go whar dey pleased.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My folks stayed on wid Marse Dan fer a year; den dey 'cided to go to +Alabama an' farm. We hit it off to Alabama an' I begin to go 'bout some +wid de young bucks. But somehow I couldn't git my min' off dat other +nigger.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well ma'am, one day at a big meetin' I runned up on him. I was so happy +I shouted all over dat meetin' house. We jes' tuck up whar we lef' off +an' 'fo' long us got married."</p> +<p class="pnext">And, Aunt Mollie continued, they lived happily until his death about 20 +years ago.</p> +<p class="pnext">She now lives in Uniontown, happy and contented. She has her garden and +flowers; but emphasizes that "de ol' days was de bes' of all."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="alonza-fantroy-toombs"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id181">Alonza Fantroy Toombs</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Alonza Fantroy Toombs</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Gertha Couric, [HW: Eufaula?]</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">HE BELONGED TO BOB TOOMBS OF GEORGIA</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Missy," said Alonza Fantroy Toombs, "I'se de proudest nigger in de +worl', 'caze I was a slave belonging to Marse Robert Toombs of Georgia; +de grandest man dat ever lived, next to Jesus Christ. He was de bes' +stump speaker in de State, an' he had mo' frien's dan a graveyard has +ghosts. He was sho a kin' man, an' dere warn't no one livin' who loved +his wife an' home mo' dan Marse Bob.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Missy," Uncle Lon continued, "he was near 'bout de greates' man dat +eber come outen de South. He were a good business man; he were straight +as dey make 'em, an' he sho enjoy playin' a good joke on someone. I +useta see him a-walkin' down de road in de early mornin' an' I knowed it +were him f'um a long distance, 'caze he was so tall. I guess you knowed +all 'bout his a-servin' in de State legislature an' in de United States +Congress an' a-bein' a gen'l in de war an' him bein' de secretary of +State in de 'federacy.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-136"> +<span id="id59"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Alonza Fantroy Toombs" src="images/image389toombs.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Alonza Fantroy Toombs, [TR: Eufaula?], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"I was bawn on Marse Bob's plantation in de Double Grade Quarters. My +pappy's name was Sam Fantroy Toombs an' my mammy was Ida-Belle Toombs. +In de slabery times I was too young to work in de fiel's, so my job was +to hunt an' fish an' feed de stock in de evenin'. My pappy was a +preacher an' Marse Bob learnt him to read and write, an' would let him +go f'um plantation to plantation on de Sabbath Day a-preachin' de +gospel. He was Marse Bob's carriage driver.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas'm, white folks, Marse Bob was a good provider, too. Us niggers et +at home on Sundays, an' us had fried chicken, pot pies, bacon, beef, +pork, an' hot coffee. On de udder days, our meals was fixed for us so +dat de time us got for res' could be spent dat way. On Sadday us stopped +work at noon an' would come wid our vessels to git flour, sugar, lard +an' udder supplies. My mammy's pots an' pans was so bright dat dey +looked like silver, an' she was one of de bes' cooks in de lan'. She +useta cook fine milk yeast bread an' cracklin' bread. All us slaves on +Marse Bob's place was cared for lak de white folks. We had de white +folks doctor to treat us when we was sick. We had good clothes, good +food an' we was treated fair. Dere warn't no mean peoples on our +plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"White lady, I 'members Marse Bob's smokehouse bes' of all. It had +ever'thing in it f'um 'possum to deer; an' de wine cellar! Don't say +nothin'! Dat was de place I longed to roam. But Marse Bob, he drink too +much. Dat was his only fault. He hit de bottle too hard. I couldn't +understand it neither, caze he lef' off smokin' in later years when he +thought it warn't good for him; but he keppa drinkin'!</p> +<p class="pnext">"I been ma'ied twice, Mistis. De fus' time to Ida Walker. She died at +childbirth; de little fella died too. Den I ma'ied Alice James, an' +she's been gone nigh on to twenty year now. My pappy, Rev. Sam Fantroy +mai'ed me both times.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Atter de S'render, nary a slave lef' Marse Bob. He gib eve'y nigger +over twenty-one a mule, some lan' an' a house to start off wid. Yassum, +Mistis, I kin read an' write; my pappy learnt me how. I'm eighty-six +year' old now an' still goin' strong, ceptin' 'bout six years ago I had +a stroke. But I come out all right. I lives here wid my sister an' she's +good to me. De only thing lef' for me to do is to wish dat when I cross +dat ribber I can slip back to de ole place to see some of my +frien's."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="william-henry-towns"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id182">William Henry Towns</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with William Henry Towns</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Levi D. Shelby, Jr., Tuscumbia, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">DIS WAS DAT LONG AGO</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"It's been so long sence, I don' 'member much," William Henry (Bill) +Towns said talking of slavery days. Towns was only seven when the Civil +War began and his memories are those of childhood, which he mixes with +reminiscences and opinions of the older slaves with whom he came in +contact immediately after the war. Towns knows the exact date of his +birth. He says:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in Tuscumbia, Alabama, December 7, 1854. My mother was name +Jane Smoots. She come from Baltimore, Maryland. My father's name was Joe +Towns, and he come from Huntsville, Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I had a passel of brudders an' sisters; Charlie and Bob was my +brudders; Betty, Kate, Lula an' Nelie was my sisters. Dere wasn't but +two of us endurin' slavery. Dat was me an' Nelie; de rest was born atter +slavery. Me an' Nelie was Townses, the rest, Charlie, Kate, Lula, Bob +and Betty was Joneses. How dat come 'bout was dis away. Endurin' slavery +my father was sold to anudder slave owner. Atter de war my mother +married Frank Jones; den dese yuther chillun was born.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It done been so long sence all of dis was I disremembers most 'bout it. +Anyway, the Big House was a two-story house; white like mos' houses +endurin' dat time. On the north side of the Big House set a great, big +barn, where all de stock an' stuff dat was raised was kep'. Off to de +southwes' of de barn an' wes' of de Big House set 'bout five or six log +houses. These house was built facin' a space of ground in de center of a +squa'e what de houses made. Anybody could stan' in his front do' an' see +in at the front of de yuther houses.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Sometimes enduring' de week an' on Sunday, too, de people would git +together out in dis squa'e an' talk 'fore goin' to bed. The chillun what +was too young to work was always out in de front playin'. Jes' acrost +from our place was anudder wid de quarters built 'mos' de same as ourn +'ceptin' dat dey had a picket fence 'roun' de quarters to pervent 'em +from runnin' away. 'Course Mr. Young didn't have to worry 'bout his +han's runnin' away, cause he wan't a mean man like some of de slave +holders was. He never spoke harsh or whupped 'em, an' he didn't 'low +nobody else to do it neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I remember one day a fellow come from acrost on anudder farm an' spoke +sumpin' 'bout Mr. Young bein' too easy wid his servants. He said, 'Them +darn niggers will think they is good as you iffen you keep up de rate +you goin' now, Young.' Mr. Young just up an' told him if he ever spoke +like dat again he'd call his bluff. Mr. Young told him de he didn't work +his people like dey was oxes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All of Mr. Young's hands liked him 'cause he didn't make 'em sleep on +corn shuck mattresses an' he didn't have dey meals cooked in a wash pot. +A lot of de yuther slaves didn't know what it was to eat meat, lessen it +was a holiday. Mr. Young 'lowed his people to eat just what he eat. I +hear my mother tell a tale 'bout a man what took a meat skin an' whipped +his chillun's mouth wid it to fool folks like dey had some meat for +dinner. Ole Caleb told one a lil' bit bigger'n dat, though. He said one +night him an' a feller was comin' from prayer meeting an' they runned +'crost a possum settin' in de root of a tree by de side of de road. He +say he stopped to git him an' dis yuther feller told him he wouldn't +bother wid him 'cause he wouldn't git none of him no how. Caleb ast him +why he said that. He said, ''Cause your ole master is gwine take him +jes' soon as you git home wid him.' Caleb told him dat Mr. Young wasn't +dat kin'er man. De yuther feller ho'ped Caleb to ketch dat possum, an' +he got a piece of him de nex' night when ever'body come in from de +fiel'. Caleb said de ol' feller enj'yed de meat so much dat he wished he +took him an' his family de 'hole possum.</p> +<p class="pnext">"We didn't live so far from Big Spring Creek. 'Co'se, we didn't do no +fishin', 'cause we younguns had to 'tend gaps to keep de cattle off'n de +crops. De grownups had to go to de fiel'. Life was kin'er happy durin' +slavery 'cause we never knowed nothing 'bout any yuther sort of life or +freedom. All we knowed was work from one en' of de year to de yuther, +'ceptin' on holidays. Den we'd have to go to church or set around de +fire an' lis'en to de old folks tell stories. The grownups would go to a +dance or do sumpin' else for indertainment. Co'se us younguns got a heap +of pleasure outten dem fairy tales dat was tol' us by de older ones. I +know ma an' dem use to tell some of de awf'lest tales sometimes. I'd be +'fraid to go from one part of de house to de yuther widoutten somebody +wid me. Us younguns would had to play some sort of a game for +indertainment. Dere was a whole lot of games an' riddles to be played +dem days. It have been so long sence I played any of 'em I'se mos' near +disremembers de biggest part of 'em. I 'members a song or two an' a few +riddles what ol' Caleb use to tell us. De song goes sumpin' like dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Saturday night an' Sunday, too.</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Had a yaller gal on my mind.</div> +</div> +<div class="line">Monday mornin', break of day,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">White folks had me gwine.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"De riddles was like dis;</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Slick as a mole, black as a coal,</div> +<div class="line">Got a great long tail like a thunder hole.</div> +<div class="line">(Skillet)</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Crooked as a rainbow, teeth lak a cat,</div> +<div class="line">Guess all of your life but you can't guess dat.</div> +<div class="line">(black berry bush)</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Grows in de winter, dies in de spring,</div> +<div class="line">Lives wid de root stickin' straight up.</div> +<div class="line">(icicle)</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dere was anudder song what Caleb use to sing. It goes like dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Whar you gwine buzzard? Whar you gwine crow?</div> +<div class="line">Gwine down to de river to do jes' so.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dere was a whole lot more to dat song what I disremembers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Anudder song what comes to my min' is:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Hawk an' de buzzard went down to de law;</div> +<div class="line">When de hawk got back he had a broken jaw.</div> +<div class="line">Lady's pocketbook on de judge's bench</div> +<div class="line">Haden' had no use for a pocketbook sence.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Sometimes I visits wid ol' Mingo White an' me an' him talks over dem +days dat me an' him was boys. We gits to talkin' an' 'fore you knows it +ol' Mingo is cryin' lak a baby. 'Cordin' to what he says he is lucky ter +be a-livin'. Dis is one thing I never likes ter talk 'bout. When slavery +was goin' on it was all right for me 'cause I never had it hard, but it +jes' wan't right to treat human bein's dat way. If we hadn't a-had to +work an' slave for nothin' we might have somepin' to show for what we +did do, an' wouldn't have to live from pillar to pos' now.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-137"> +<span id="id60"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="William Henry Towns" src="images/image391towns.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +William Henry Towns, [TR: Tuscumbia?], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Speakin' of clothin', everything that we wore back den was made by +han'. Many a night my ma use' to set an' spin wid a spindle. I have set +an' done the cardin' for her so she could git her tas' done. In de +summer we would wear un'erwear what was made outten cotton. In de +winter it was made outten flannel. De shoes was made of cowhide what was +tanned right dere on de place. Dem was de hardes' shoes I ever seen. +Sometimes dey'd wear out 'fore dey was any ways soft, an' den sometimes +atter dey was wore out you couldn't hardly ben' 'em. Some of de han's +would go bar'footed until de fall an' den wear shoes. Slippers wan't +wore den. De fust pair of slippers I ever 'members havin' was de ones +what I bought for my weddin'. Dey didn't cos' but a dollar an' six bits. +My weddin' suit didn't cos' but eight dollars, an' a straw hat to match +it cos' six bits.</p> +<p class="pnext">"As I said afore, Massa Young an' ol' Mistis was mighty good folks on +'count of dey never whupped any of they han's. Iffen dere was one dat +would give trouble dey would git rid of him. De overseers had to be kin' +to de hands or else he was outten a job. De chillun was mighty nice, +too. Ever' time dey went to town or to de sto' dey would bring us +younguns some candy or somepin'. Joinin' our farm was a farm whar de +slaves fared lak dogs. Dey was always beatin' on some of dem.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ever'body worked hard enduring' dat time. Dat was all we thought we was +'spose' to do, but Abe Lincoln taught us better'n dat. Some say dat Abe +wan't intrusted so much in freein' de slaves as he was in savin' de +union. Don' make no diff'ence iffen he wan't intrusted in de black +folks, he sho' done a big thing by tryin' to save de union. Some of de +slaveholders would double de proportion of work so as to git to whip 'em +when night come. I heard my ma say after slavery that dey jes' whipped +de slaves so much to keep dem cowed down an' 'cause dey might have +fought for freedom much sooner'n it did come.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Caleb come from N'Orleans, Louiseanner. He say dat many a day ship +loads of slaves was unloaded dere an' sold to de one offerin' de mos' +money for dem. Dey had big chains an' shackles on dem to keep 'em from +gittin' away. Sometime dey would have to go a long ways to git to de +farm. Dey would go in a wagon or on hoss back.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Talk 'bout learnin' to read an' 'rite—why, iffen we so much as spoke +of learnin' to read an' 'rite we was scolded like de debil. Iffen we was +caught lookin' in a book we was treated same as iffen we had killed +somebody. A servant bett'nt be caught lookin' in a book; didn't make no +diff'ence if you wan't doin' nothin' but lookin' at de pictures.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Speakin' of church; we went to de same church as de white folks did; +only thing was we had to go in de evenin' atter de white folks. De white +folks would go along an' read de Bible for de preacher, an' to keep dem +from talkin of things dat might help dem to git free. Dey would sing +songs like 'Steal Away,' 'Been Toilin' at the Hill So Long,' an' +'Old-Time Religion.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ever' once in a while slaves would run away to de North. Mos' times dey +was caught an' brought back. Sometimes dey would git desp'rit an' would +kill demse'ves 'fore dey would stand to be brought back. One time dat I +heard of a slave that had 'scaped and when dey tried to ketch him he +jumped in de creek an' drown hisse'f. He was brought from over in +Geo'gia. He hadn't been in Alabama long 'fore him an' two more tried to +'scape; two of 'em was caught an' brought back but dis yuther one went +to de lan' of sweet dreams.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de day's work was done an' all had eat, de slaves had to go to +bed. Mos' slaves worked on Sat'day jes' lak dey did on Monday; that was +from kin' to caught, or from sun to sun. Mr. Young never worked his +slaves 'twell dark on Sat'day. He always let 'em quit 'roun' fo' 'clock. +We would spen' dis time washin' an' bathin' to git ready for church on +Sunday. Speakin' of holidays; de han's celebrated ever' holiday dat deir +white folks celebrated. Dere wan't much to do for indertainment, +'ceptin' what I'se already said. Ever' Christmas we'd go to de Big House +an' git our present, 'cause ol' Mistis always give us one.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slaves never got sick much, but when dey did dey got de bes'. Dere was +always a nurse on de farm, and when a slave got sick dey was righ' dere +to give dem treatments. Back in dose days dey used all sorts of roots +and yarbs for medicine. Peach tree leaves was one of de mos' of'en. +Sassafras was anudder what was used of'en; hit was used mostly in de +spring made in tea. Asafetida was anudder what was use to keep you from +havin' azma. Hit was wore 'round de neck in a lil bag. Prickler ash was +anudder what was tooken in de spring. Hit was 'spose ter clean de blood. +Some of de folks would use brass, copper an' dimes wid holes in 'em to +keep from havin' their rumertiz.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was seben years old when de war commence. I 'members Mrs. Young said +when de Yankees come dey was goin' to ast us iffen dey had been good to +us. She said dat dey was goin' to ast us all 'bout how much money dey +had; an' how many slaves what dey owned. She told us to say dey was po' +folks an' dat dey didn't have no money. I 'member my mother said dat she +hoped Mr. Young and dem to hide deir money som'ers in a well dat wan't +bein' used 'cause it gone dry. Dem Yankees sho' did clean up whar they +went along. Dey would ketch chickens by de bunches and kill 'em an' den +turn 'roun' an' make de ol' Mistis clean 'em an' cook 'em for dem. Dem +Yankees set fire to bales an' bales of cotton. Dey took de white folks +clo'se an' did away wid 'em. Sometimes dey would tear 'em up or give dem +to de slaves to wear. De war ended in sixty-five an' I was eleben years +ol' den.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Jes' atter de war we was turned loose to go for ourse'f. What I mean by +dat, we was free. I didn't mean that we lef' Mr. Young's 'cause we +stayed wid him for de longest atter slavery was over.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My fust work was in a blacksmith shop down on West Six Street. I worked +for fifty cents a day den until I learned de trade. Atter I worked at de +blacksmith shop for about two years I took up carpenter work. I served +apprentice for three years. I followed carpent'ing the res' of my life.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I married Lizzie Anderson when I was twenty-one years ol'. She wan't +but seventeen years ol'. We didn't have no big weddin', we jes' had de +fambly dere. I raised ten chillun up until April de twenty fourth. +That's when William Henry died. My chilluns doin' pretty well in life. +Dere's two of my sons what's doctors; one is a carpenter. The other one +is Grand Orator of the Shriners. My gals is doin' fine, too. Three of +'em is been school teachers, one a beauty cult'ist an' de other one a +nurse. I feels sati'fied 'bout my chillun now. Dey seems to be able to +make a livin' for they se'ves pretty well.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I thinks that Abe Lincoln was a mighty fine man even if he was tryin' +to save their union. I don't like to talk 'bout this that have done +happened. It done passed so I don't say much 'bout it, specially de +Presidents, 'cause it might cause a 'sturbance right now. All men means +well, but some of 'em ain't broadminded 'nough to do anythin' for nobody +but themse'fs. Any man that tries to help humanity is a good man."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="stepney-underwood"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id183">Stepney Underwood</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Stepney Underwood</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">John Morgan Smith</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">THE COURT JESTER</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, I was a slave. I was tin year' old whin de war begin." Uncle +Stepney spoke the words between intermittent jerks of an uncontrollable +voice. The nervousness which resulted from hard work and a long struggle +for existence had not only given him palsy, but had left him with an +upheaving diaphragm. Thus he shook and shivered while stuttering so +constantly as to be almost unintelligible.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy belonged to the Johnstons and my pappy was owned by the +Underwoods," he continued; "dey lived next to each other on two big +plantations in Lowndes County. Dey was good peoples—dem Underwoods. I +remembers dat dey use to think I was as funny as a little monkey. De +massa usta laugh his head off at me, and when dere was parties, de +guestes would always say: 'Whar Stepney? We wants to see Stepney dance.' +I usta cut many a [...] pigeon wing fur 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day atter I finish' my chores, I slip off an go across de line to +see my mammy. When I was a-comin' back th'ough de woods, I met up wid +two pattyrollers. Dey stop me and say: 'Nigger, who you belong to?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Massa Jim Johns'on,' I answers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Whut you a doin' out here, den?' dey say, all de time a slippin' a +little closer so's to grab me.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I don't take time to gib 'em no mo' answers kaze I knowd dat dis meant +a beatin'. I starts my legs a-flyin' an' I runs through de fores' lak a +scar't rabbit wid dem pattyrollers right behin' me. My bare feets flew +over dem stones an' I jus' hit de high spots in de groun'. I knowed dem +two mens didn't have no chance to kotch me, but dis sho meant a whuppin' +when I got home.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-138"> +<span id="id61"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Stepney Underwood" src="images/image400underwood.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Stepney Underwood, [TR: Birmingham], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"But I didn't go home dat night. I stay out in de woods and buil' me a +little fiah. I laid down under a sycamo' tree a-tryin' ter make up my +min' ter go an' take dat beatin'. I heered de panthers a screamin' a way +off in de fores' an' de wildcats a howlin', an' how I wished I coulda +been wid my mammy. Eve'y now and den, I could see eyes a shinin' in de +darkness an' rustlin's in de bushes. Warn't no use of me a-cryin' kaze I +was a long way fum home an' dere warn't no one to could hear me. Eve'y +thing seem to be agin' me. Far off across de ridge I heered a screech +owl a-callin', an' I knowd dat meant death. I was glad I had my overalls +on so's I could turn my pockets inside out'ards to stop him. Atter I +done dis, he sho-nuf stopped. Den my lef' ear it commence to ichin', and +I knowd dat someone was a-sayin' somethin' mean about me. Probably dat +oberseer dat was a-goin' to whup me when I got home. Soon I fell slap to +sleep on a bed of moss. De nex' day I was awful hongry, an' long 'bout +de time de sun was a-comin' ober de ridge, I heerd some mens a-comin' +through de brush. It was de massa, de oberseer an' some mo' mens. I runs +toward de massa and I calls as loud as I could: 'Massa Jim, here I is.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"He come up wid an awful frown on his face and de oberseer, he had a big +whup in his han'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'You little bur-head Nigger debil', de massa say, 'I teach you ter run +away fum yo' place. Come on home; I'se gwine give you a good breakfast +an' fix you up in some decent clothes. I'se got visitors a-comin' an' +heah you is out in de woods when I needs you to dance.' Den de massa, he +smile lak I ain't done nothin' wrong. 'I guess you wants yo mammy, you +little lonesome pickaninny. Well, I s'pose I hadda go ober and buy her. +You little debil you—now git on home.'"</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="charlie-van-dyke"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id184">Charlie Van Dyke</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Personal conversation with Charlie Van Dyke</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">713 S. Lawrence street, Mobile, Ala.</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Written by Mary A. Poole</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">IT TOOK $50.00 TO PUT UNCLE CHARLIE ON DE FLOOR!</em></p> +<p class="pnext">An old colored man, named Charlie Van Dyke, living at 713 S. Lawrence +street, Mobile, Ala. claims to be 107 years old, but he has no authentic +record of his birth. He told the writer he was born in North Carolina, +and when he was ten years old, Mr. William Martee King, who owned his +mother, "Nellie Drish", moved to Tuscaloosa, Ala., where the King family +remained about a year, moving then from Tuscaloosa down into Dallas +County, near Selma, Ala.</p> +<p class="pnext">While Mr. and Mrs. King and their family remained in Tuscaloosa, +Charlies mother Nellie Drish met and married William Van Dyke, who +belonged to the Van Dykes, who owned the neighboring plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">Charlie assumed his step-father's name, but knew little of him, or of +the Van Dykes to whom his step-father belonged, because, as Charlie +explained to the writer, after the Kings moved down in Dallas County, +(as Charlie always referred to his home in Alabama) and brought his +mother Nellie and her family with them, his stepfather could only visit +them once a year, and that privilege was given him on Christmas Day. He +had to start back the next day, as he had to make the trip to and fro on +horse back.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie said the Kings owned about a thousand acres in Dallas +County and had about a hundred head of slaves, but with all their riches +they lived in a plain plank house.</p> +<p class="pnext">He smiled and said, "Now-a-days folks passing such a house, would say +'Colored folks live there.'"</p> +<p class="pnext">The slave quarters were the regular log wood cabins, said Uncle Charlie, +with space between each row and a little plot of ground to separate each +cabin to itself.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie said his mother cooked for the white folks, and sometimes +she didn't get down to their cabin but on Sunday afternoon, that he +being the oldest had to look after the younger children, and that he was +never required to do heavy work as he broke his leg when a boy, so the +folks let him just work around the yard and look after his sisters and +brothers and also the other slave children.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie said Mr. King traveled a lot, went to France once, that +took almost a year and the overseer had full charge and he was mean and +made everybody stand around. He even made the slaves shuck corn on +Sundays, each had their allotted amount to shuck before they could stop.</p> +<p class="pnext">When the writer asked about church on the plantation, Uncle Charlie +replied: "Church was what they called it but all that preacher talked +about was for us slaves to obey our masters and not to lie and steal. +Nothing about Jesus was ever said, and the overseer stood there to see +the preacher talked as he wanted him to talk."</p> +<p class="pnext">The only day that Uncle Charlie said they were given any real holiday +was Christmas, everybody got his drink of whiskey on Christmas, and not +another drink until next Christmas, "it sure seemed a long time between +drinks", added Charlie with a smile.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie said they did let you have a funeral when some one died, +they made the coffin on the plantation and carried it by hand to the +graveyard, singing as they went along. He tried to recall the hymns, but +all he could chant in a sing-song way was,</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Last word he said was about Jerusalem</div> +<div class="line">And he traveled along to the grave!</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">When asked about war days, Uncle Charlie was first on the Confederate +side, then on the Northern side, and he seemed somewhat bewildered about +it all, he said he saw a stockade, as he called it, in Selma, Ala., and +he remembered food stuff being sent to the soldiers, and also recalled +the Yankees coming, and a Captain coming up the road and telling them +the soldiers were coming. Uncle Charlie said the colored folks thought +the Captain had to go back North before they came back, but in a flash +like lightening there they were, hundreds of them, and they scared folks +so bad some of them jumped in the river and tried to swim across and +those that couldn't, they just drowned.</p> +<p class="pnext">When the writer tried to check up on Uncle Charlie's age, asking him how +old he was when the war started, he replied:</p> +<p class="pnext">"I dont know but I was a man long afore it all started, lady, and I was +thirty-three years old when I married 'bout a year after the surrender."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked why he waited so long to get married, Uncle Charlie said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Didn't you know in slavery days they wouldn't alow a man to marry +unless he could split a hundred rails a day?"</p> +<p class="pnext">The writer smiled and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Now, Uncle Charlie," and then he chuckled, and said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, I guess the right one didn't come 'long till I met her."</p> +<p class="pnext">When asked if he had a regular wedding feast, he replied.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes, lady, it took $50.00 to put me on the floor."</p> +<p class="pnext">Charlie and Theresa had "five head of children", as Uncle Charlie +expressed it, of which three are dead and two living, but he claims his +children do not look after him, but his church folks and friends give +him the helping hand. He is a member of the St. Luke Missionary Baptist +Church, of Mobile.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie says he has his religion from the foregone prophets, that +he "don't understand this day religion", that he came along when people +were serving Daniel's God, and when people had to be born again, now +they serve a sanctified God and jump from one religion to another.</p> +<p class="pnext">Uncle Charlie finished the interview by saying, "Lord teach me how to +pray, And teach me to love it woo."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lilah-walker"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id185">Lilah Walker</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lilah Walker</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">William B. Strickland, Carbon Hill</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">I HEAR DE WHIRRIN' OF QUARE WINGS</em></p> +<p class="pnext">I walked through a small glade overshadowed by large oak trees, near +Carbon Hill in Walker County, Alabama. A weird little cabin confronted +me; its porch and steps loosely held to the main part of the structure +by a few weak boards. Lilah Walker, an old Negro woman, squatted on the +steps with her chin resting in her black hands, in an attitude of deep +reverie. As the old woman heard me approaching she raised her head in +cordial greeting.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Come in, young marster," she said. "How is you today?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Fine, Aunt Lilah," I answered. 'How's the world treating you?"</p> +<p class="pnext">"Oh, I can't complain," she replied.</p> +<p class="pnext">The old woman continued.</p> +<p class="pnext">"It mought be safer to set inside, 'case dey says when de sun swing low +lak dis dat de miassahs whut make you sick 'gin to rise outten yon' +swamp." Then she chuckled: "I bin here since 'fo' de wah, an' I ain't +neber seen no miassahs rise outten dat swamp yit. Yassuh, dat sho is so, +but from whut I seed rise outten it my 'pinion is dat dey done lef' long +'fo' dis. But I seed quare wings whirrin' outten dat swamp jus' 'fo' +days atter de surrender, an' I seed 'em near 'bout eve'y day since. I +seed 'em an' I heered 'em jus' a whirrin'!</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, I sho can't 'splain de wings, but I is got my 'pinion how come +dey is. When I tells you whut took place here durin' dem dark ole days, +den maybe you'll hab yourn. Ole Mistis died 'fo de war, an' ole Massa, +he too ole to go. He didn't do nothin' but set aroun' an' read de books +an' papers. 'Peer lak to me he jus' plum forgit 'bout young Mistis after +her mammy died, an' de little gal jus' growed up lak a wild flower in de +woods, cep'n for a handsome young boy on de nex' plantation. Dey was +nearly always together.</p> +<p class="pnext">"By an' by de boy got ole enough to go to de wah. It was jus' a little +fo' de close. Den young Mistis, she droop an' she droop. 'Reckley she +'gin to swoon, long jus' anywheres she would. One day she swoon an' +nothin' I could do would bring her back to her senses. I jus' couldn't +fetch her to. I call ole Massa an' he git a doctor. Dey putt me outten +de room an' I ain't neber heared whut dat doctor said till yit, but ole +Massa, he go stark wild. He holla an' carry on in his sleep all de +night; an' de nex' day he druv' de young Mistis away. Dere was a cabin +den in de swamp, an' she went dar to live. I snuk out dar an' tote her +vittles to her fo' days an' days. She always grab me an' say: 'Don't you +love me an' don't you believe in me, mammy?'</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Co'se I does, honey chile, 'ca'se I useta sing to you 'bout de good +ole lan' of promise.' Den I says to her: 'Dese times is powerful +triflin', an' maybe 'fo' long I's gwine home an' de white folks will +miss me 'ca'se dey can't raise chilluns.' Den she cry an' I cry.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Bout dat time de word come of de surrender. Ole Massa seem to come to +his wits den an' he kep' a close watch on me so's I can't leave de house +to carry de food. On de fo'th day, I cotch a chance an' I snuck off. +When I come close to de cabin I call, but young Mistis neber answer. Den +I went to de do', but I neber go in de do', 'ca'se millions of black +wings come a-whirrin' outten de house. I run an' run an' I pray too, but +de big black wings still follow me. Sometimes in de early mornin' I +still hears an' sees two pairs of wings, sometimes white, sometimes +black.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, I is aimin' to tell you 'bout ole Massa; whut 'come of him. One +evenin' I ventured to de aidge of dat swamp, an' somep'n cracked under +my feets. I is jus' about to run when I sees it's jus' a piece of paper. +I sees it has writin' on it so I taken it to ole Massa. Den when he read +dat he sho 'nough go plum crazy. 'Bout dat time dey open what dey called +a 'sane 'slylum in Tusaloosy an' dey taken ole Massa dar an' a little +later he died.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De young boy who went to wah, whut about him? Dey say he was killed in +de las' battle of Appomatox. Dat piece o' paper? Yassuh. It was a paper +sayin' dat young Mistis and de young boy on de nex' plantation was +'nited in ma'iage. Listen, young Massa. I hears dem quare wings +a-whirrin'."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="simon-walker"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id186">Simon Walker</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Simon Walker</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ira S. Jordan</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Softly mumbling to himself and gravely shaking a bare, shiny head that +had only a fringe of white, closely-kinked wooly hair about the ears, +the old Negro shuffled out of the crowded courtroom into the corridor.</p> +<p class="pnext">Turning clear, quizzical eyes toward a group of white men loitering near +the doorway and addressing no one in particular, with a final emphatic +shake of his head he said:</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hit do beat all, de way dese young niggers is allus in trouble wid de +law. Now, whin Ah was a young buck de only law mongst us niggers was de +word uv ole Massa. Mebbe you all's heerd tell o' him—Cun'l Hugh Walker?</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ef de Cun'l wasn't de richest man anywhar 'round Forsyth, Georgy, den +mah name ain't Simon Walker. Yassuh! Dat's mah name too. Ah belonged to +de Cun'l 'long wid more'n er hundderd mo' slaves, an' my mammy an' pappy +befo' me belonged to de Walkers.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All uv 'em gone now—gone to Glory, an dis ole nigger heah all by +hisself—de las' one er de fambly. De Cun'l, he had eight boys, an all +'cept de least un jined de Confederits.</p> +<p class="pnext">"'Twas a turrible sad day when young Maas Chap was brung home wid one of +his laigs shot plumb off by de Yankees; an me settin' dar by him +a-fannin' erway de flies endurin' all de long hot days whilst he was +layin' dar on de aige o' Kingdom Come. An' all de time Ah was thankin' +de Lawd dat mah lil' Maas Jim was too young to go to de wawh—(all de +Cun'l's sons dey had body servants, an Ah was Maas Jim's boy). Ah useter +look atter him, go to school wid him an play in de woods 'tell school +was out, an ef he had 'er gone to de wawh, dis nigger would er been +right dar wid him.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Nawsuh, Maas Jim an me never did go to de wawh, but us seed de Yankees +whin' Gen'l Sherman come marchin through our plantation. An ef Ah live +fur thousand yeahs Ah'd never fergit dat day! Ah ain't nivver seed so +many men in one crowd befo' er since, an de las' one uv 'em wearin' de +same kind of clo'es. Dey come right up in de yahd, an a passel of 'em +tromped right into de Big House, jist lak it was dare'n. Dey turned +ebrything wrong side out'ards a-lookin' fer de silver an de jewl'ry, but +Ole Missis, she done had news dey was comin' an all de stuff was hid in +de woods. Whin dey couldn't fin' de plate an' jewl'ry, dey was hoppin +mad, an atter takin' all de hams an rations dey could tote off dey sot +fire to de smoke-house, an' de bahn an' all de cotton dat was piled +around de ginhouse, to keep de Confederits frum gittin it, dey said. Dey +took all de good houses an' mules an' lef' dere ole hongry, broke-down +nags dat won't fittin' fer nothin' 'cept fert'lize. But dey didn't hu't +nobody, not eben Cookie whin she tuck er broom atter em in de kitchin."</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-139"> +<span id="id62"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Simon Walker" src="images/image410walker.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Simon Walker, Birmingham, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Ah reckon dem soldiers thought de Cun'l was plumb ruint whin dey lef, +but Ah says, Cun'l Walker was er rich man, an' 'fo' long us done bought +fresh rations, en drive up de hargs frum de swamp an kilt mo' meat. Den +de Cun'l he sont off fer mo' mules, an whin dey come de wu'k went on +ergin.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Come de day whin all de niggers was sot free. Cun'l Walker call all de +slaves up to de Big House, an standin dere on de verandah he told 'em +dey was now all free niggers—free to go whar dey pleased. But, ef +anybody wanted to stay on de plantation to hole up dare hans. Mos' all +de hans stayed on de plantation 'tell de Cun'l died, an de fambly +sorter broke up. Dat was fo' yeahs atter de Surrender.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Well, atter dat, Ah jist drifted eroun', an fin'ly landed heah in +Bummin'ham in 1888. Wont nothin' much heah den but muddy roads an +swamps, but Ah got er job totein' mortar whar dey was buildin' de fust +brick sto', an' den er long time atterwards Ah wo'ked fer de 'T.C. and +I.' fer twenty-five yeahs.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But de ole nigger ain't no mo' good fer hahd labor. All dah white folks +done gone on, an heah I is on de Welfare, jist waitin' fer de good Lawd +to call me up dare fer de Great Reunion—Amen."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="lucindia-washington"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id187">Lucindia Washington</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Lucindia Washington</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Alice S. Barton</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">Little black Cindy skipped along the narrow path that led to the Spring +House. In her hand she swung an empty cedar pail that she was soon to +fill with cool, fresh milk. She entered the small glade overhung with +willow trees and spread with soft grass, and gazed at the sparkling +water of the spring as it caught the beams of sunlight coming through +the trees and reflected them in myriads of little points. Shadows of the +waving leaves danced over the ground and up the side of the stone Spring +House. How cool and nice it was here, she thought. Gentle breezes +rustled the limbs of small saplings and quietly stirred the long grass +along the upper part of the branch.</p> +<p class="pnext">A young rabbit hopped from a little clump of bushes and Cindy watched +him as the small creature drank thirstily from the crystal water. +Occasionally, the bunny would lift his head as if warned by a slight +sound, but in a moment she saw him fold back his delicate ears and once +more dip his small mouth into the babbling water.</p> +<p class="pnext">After quenching his thirst, the rabbit hopped a few feet away and +nibbled on a wisp of tender grass. Cindy was as still as a statue as she +watched the procedure. "Dat's de cutest little bunny I ever seed," she +said to herself. "I wish I could ketch him." But Cindy knew that she +could not catch a rabbit, so she was content to stand in the shadow of a +sycamore and gaze eagerly at the animal, nibbling the grass.</p> +<p class="pnext">Suddenly, without warning, Cindy's eyes protruded from their sockets +with an expression of fear. Slipping noiselessly through the green +undergrowth she saw a giant rattler gliding slowly toward the young +rabbit. She wanted to cry out, but she was afraid; afraid of attracting +the rattler's attention toward her. She was deathly afraid of snakes. +Since babyhood, she had harbored a growing fear of them. If Cindy had +been still before this time, she now became a frozen image. It would not +have been apparent that she was even breathing. So frightened was she of +the snake that her whole body broke out in a profuse perspiration. Her +eyes were glued to the tremendous brown monster which, without the +slightest sound, oozed deftly toward its victim. Cindy was hypnotized! +The snake seemed to hold her in a strange spell. Slowly, inexorably he +moved entirely out of the undergrowth and was now weaving on the clear +ground. He approached the rabbit within a distance of three feet and +began to carefully form himself in a deadly coil. Cindy saw every +movement. She saw each diamond on its brown back; each scale of its +crawling skin; each lash and point of its tongue; the whiteness of its +breast, the large track that it had made in the sand. She watched its +eyes gleam, expressionless and ominous. She gazed at the deadly mouth as +it slowly began to open. She was aware of the first appearance of the +two death-like fangs pointing downward. She saw the ten-buttoned rattle +stand erect. She saw it quiver; shake; sound. She saw the rabbit turn +with fear. She saw the strike; the sinking of the fangs into the soft, +brown fur. She watched the rabbit give an ephemeral struggle; witnessed +the brief pitiful look in the bunny's eyes and at last saw the mouth +sink into the small belly and draw the last breath of life away.</p> +<p class="pnext">The experience was more than the little girl could stand. Cindy +was now in a state of frenzy. She could not move, nor speak, nor turn +her eyes. She could only stare! At what?</p> +<p class="pnext">The monstrous snake then girded himself for further onslaught. After +being sure his victim was dead, he loosed his grip and stretched at full +length upon the ground; drew the rabbit out until it too was stretched +carefully out with its hind feet together and its head pointing in the +opposite direction. Then followed an experience that to Cindy seemed +entirely impossible. The snake took the hind feet of the rabbit in his +mouth, until gradually they had disappeared. Then came what seemed to +'Cindy an agonized struggle. The snake's mouth stretched almost to the +breaking point as it began slowly to close over the rest of the rabbit's +rear quarter. With fits and starts and jerks and stretches, the rattler +reeled and squirmed; contorted and wreathed and sucked until the rabbit +had half gone. With the last great effort the serpent threw himself into +another series of bodily contortions that seemed to 'Cindy positively +agonizing to him, until at last the rabbit had entirely disappeared from +the earth. For several minutes 'Cindy apparently watched the tremendous +hump in the snake move slowly backward. With gradually diminishing +intermittent jerks, the snake finally got the small animal to his +digestive tract. The monster then crawled to a hot sandy section and +went to sleep.</p> +<hr class="docutils"/> +<p class="pfirst">Two hours later it was twilight. An overseer was walking along the path +to the Spring House. He paused for a moment beneath a sycamore tree to +rest and cool himself. As his eyes roamed the shadowy little glade they +came to rest on the body of a little Negro girl, lying inert upon the +soft grass with the handle of a cedar bucket clutched in a death grip. +He lifted the small black form into his arms and carried her to the +house. He saw in her face an expression of mingled agony and fear.</p> +<hr class="docutils"/> +<p class="pfirst">"Yassuh, white folks, dat was me," Aunt 'Cindy smiled as she told me of +the experience, 80 years later. "Dat was de biggest snake I ever seed. +He musta been seven feet long.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-140"> +<span id="cindy-washington"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Cindy Washington" src="images/image413washington.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Cindy Washington, [TR: Eutaw], Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"All dis happen in Sumter County whar I was bawn. Us had a pretty place +dere. I'll never forgits how de niggers worked dere gardens in de +moonlight. Dere warn't no time in de day. De white folks work tuk dat +time. De oberseer rung a big bell for us to git up by in de mawnin' at +fo' o'clock, an' de fus' thing we done was to feed de stock."</p> +<p class="pnext">"You axe was we punished?" Yassuh, we was punished for something: most +of all for stealin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassuh, we was taught to read an' write, but mos' of de slaves didn't +want to learn. Us little niggers would hide our books under de steps to +keep f'um havin' to study. Us'd go to church wid de white folks on +Sunday and sit in de back, an' den we go home an' eat a big Sunday meal. +When we got sick f'um eatin' too much or somp'n, Massa Jim Godfrey was a +doctor an' he'd ten' to us. Den when new nigger babies came, nine little +black bugs was tied up in rags 'roun' dere necks for to make de babies +teethe easy. When I was ma'ied, white folks, at de age of thirteen, Alex +Washington, my husband an me had a forty-dollar weddin'. My mistis baked +me a cake, an' a white schoolmaster named Henry Hindron spoke de +ceremony. Me an' dat ole husband had twenty-two chilluns.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas ma'm. I sho does believe in ghosties. We's got one good spirit an' +one bad un. One goes to heaben an' de udder stays on earth. Ghosties sho +does lak whiskey, caze dey'll follow you iffen you got any. Iffen you +po' it on de groun' beside you, dough, dey'll lose track of you. Always +give a gos' de raght han' side of de road, white folks, an' he won't +bother you.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yes my chile, I is got religion. I seed Jesus a hanging f'um de cross. +He give his blood so dat us could live. I knows I is goin' to +heaben."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="eliza-white"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id188">Eliza White</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Eliza White, age around 80</strong></div> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Opelika, Alabama</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Preston Klein, Opelika, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">SHE SEED A HA'NT</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Eliza White lives by the Central of Georgia Railroad tracks in Opelika. +The passing of many years has not dulled her mind, and so she was able +to tell of many things which happened "befo' de wah."</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yas, suh, I was a slave. Ole Massa was name' Billy Jones, and Ole +Mistis was name' Angeline. Dey lived in Harris County, Georgia, close to +Columbus. My pappy and mammy was Peter and Frances Jones, and I had a +brother, Dennis, and a sister, Georgianne.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa was a good man, and I did love Ole Mistis. Dey was mighty good to +us niggers; fed us out dey own garden. We had checked homespun clothes +foh eve'yday, and purty calico and dyed osnaburg ones foh Sunday. I went +to church wid de white folks, settin' in de foot of de carriage. I +'members well de Sunday I fust seen a shoutin'. It was two white ladies.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa and Mistis had four chillun. Two of dem, Dave and Quit, was bad +fighting kids. I seen Massa make dem strip to dey waist, and whip 'em, +den make dem go in and bathe.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa lived in a big, fine white house. He had two or three hundred +slaves, and de quarters was in two long rows, runnin' up near 'bout to +de big house on de hill. Dey even raised deer on de place. De houses in +de quarters was two-room log houses wid a shed room to cook in. My mammy +was de cook at de big house, and granny was de weaver. Pappy was de +bedmaker; he made most of de beds outen poplar. I had a little chair in +de corner where I sot and kept de flies offen Mistis wid a green twig +brush.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Whenever Massa sont any de slaves offen de place he had to gib 'em +passes so de patterollers wouldn't ketch 'em and whip 'em foh runnin' +away. De patterollers was a good thing foh de lazy ones. When daylight +come we had to get up, else we'd be whipped. Massa didn't have his +slaves whipped much; just when dey was lazy and wouldn't work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Ev'ey now and den we would have some good frolics, mostly on Sattiday +nights. Somebody would play de fiddle and we all danced to de music. De +folks sure had some big times at de cornshuckin's, too. De men would +work two or three days, haulin' de corn and pilin' it near de crib. Den +dey would invite folks from other quarters to come and help wid de +shuckin'. While dey shucked dey would holler and sing:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">You jumped and I jumped;</div> +<div class="line">Swear, by God you out jumped me.</div> +<div class="line">Huh! Huh! Round de corn, Sally.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Granny used to give us tea made outen sage roots, mullen, pine, +hoarhound—dat sho' was bitter stuff. We had purty beads made wid corn. +And I still 'members de Christmas I got my fust shoes. I just hugged dem +tight and went to sleep holdin' 'em. Dey was button shoes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When we heard de Yankees was comin' we hid all de meat and rations and +de silver in de big swamp, and turned de horses loose, and all us kids +hid in de bedticks (mattresses). De Yankees stayed around two or three +days and would pull de hands out of dere beds by dey toes.</p> +<p class="pnext">"But I really seed a ha'nt one time. I knowed it was. De was one old man +been havin' de toothache all de time; he used to keep he jaw tied up. I +was gwine over to see him day time. Well, 'fore I got dere I seen what +look like him comin'. When I got nearer he turned to a man riding a mule +and wearing a big hat. Den, 'fore he got to de house he was plum gone. +Dat's how I knowed it was a ha'nt."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="mingo-white"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id189">Mingo White</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Mingo White</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Levi D. Shelby, Jr., Tuscumbia, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">JEFF DAVIS USED TO CAMOUFLAGE HIS HORSE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Mingo White lives at Burleson in Franklin County, Alabama, and though he +doesn't know his age he remembers that he was a big boy when the War +between the States began. His reminiscences of slavery days, when he was +a field hand, are an incongruous combination of stories of severe +cruelty and free Saturday afternoons, Sunday holidays and happy +festivals of cornshucking and community cotton picking. He talks of +punishments visited on recalcitrant slaves beyond human endurance and of +tasks saddled on one person that would take half a dozen to accomplish. +Mingled with these perhaps fogged memories of the nonagenarian are +interesting sidelights of "drivers," paterollers," Ku Kluxers and +share-cropping in reconstruction days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born in Chester, South Carolina, but I was mos'ly raised in +Alabama," Mingo said. "When I was 'bout fo' or five years old, I was +loaded in a wagon wid a lot mo' people in 'hit. Whar I was boun' I don't +know. Whatever become of my mammy an' pappy I don' know for a long time.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was tol' there was a lot of slave speculators in Chester to buy some +slaves for some folks in Alabama. I 'members dat I was took up on a +stan' an' a lot of people come 'roun' an' felt my arms an' legs an' +chist, an' ast me a lot of questions. Befo' we slaves was took to de +tradin' post Ol' Marsa Crawford tol' us to tell eve'ybody what ast us if +we'd ever been sick to tell 'em dat us'd never been sick in our life. Us +had to tell 'em all sorts of lies for our Marsa or else take a beatin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was jes' a li'l thang; tooked away from my mammy an' pappy, jes' when +I needed 'em mos'. The only caren' that I had or ever knowed anything +'bout was give to me by a frein' of my pappy. His name was John White. +My pappy tol' him to take care of me for him. John was a fiddler an' +many a night I woke up to find myse'f 'sleep 'twix' his legs whilst he +was playin' for a dance for de white folks. My pappy an' mammy was sold +from each yuther too, de same time as I was sold. I use' to wonder if I +had any brothers or sisters, as I had always wanted some. A few years +later I foun' out I didn't have none.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I'll never forgit de trip from Chester to Burleson. I wouldn't 'member +so well I don't guess, 'cepin' I had a big ol' sheep dog name Trailer. +He followed right in back of de wagon dat I was in. Us had to cross a +wide stream what I tuk to be a ribber. When we started 'crost, ol' +Trailer never stop followin'. I was watchin' him clost so if he gived +out I was goin' to try to git him. He didn't giv' out, he didn't even +hab to swim. He jes' walked 'long an' lapped de water lack a dog will.</p> +<p class="pnext">"John took me an' kep' me in de cabin wid him. De cabin didn' hab no +furniture in hit lack we has now 'days. De bed was a one-legged, hit was +made in de corner of de room, wid de leg settin' out in de middle of de +flo'. A plank was runned 'twix' de logs of de cabin an' nailed to de +post on de front of de bed. Across de foot an' udder plank was runned +into de logs an' nail' to de leg. Den some straw or cornshucks was piled +on for a mattress. Us used anythang what we could git for kivver. De +table had two legs, de legs set out to de front whilst de back part was +nail' to de wall. Us didn't hab no stove. Thar was a great big fireplace +whar de cookin' was done. Us didn't hab to cook, though, lessen us got +hungry after supper been served at de house.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I warn't nothin' but a chile endurin' slavery, but I had to wuk de same +as any man. I went to de fiel' and hosed cotton, pulled fodder and +picked cotton wid de res' of de han's. I kep' up too, to keep from +gittin' any lashes dat night when us got home. In de winter I went to de +woods wid de men folks to ho'p git wood or to git sap from de trees to +make turpentine an' tar. Iffen us didn't do dat we made charcoal to run +de blacksmif shop wid.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De white folks was hard on us. Dey would whup us 'bout de leas' li'l +thang. Hit wouldn't a been so bad iffen us had a had comforts, but to +live lack us did was 'nouf to make anybody soon as be dead. De white +folks tol' us dat us born to work for 'em an' dat us was doin' fine at +dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De nex' time dat I saw my mammy I was a great big boy. Dere was a 'oman +on de place what ever'body called mammy, Selina White. One day mammy +called me an' said, Mingo, your mammy is comin'.' I said, 'I thought dat +you was my mammy.' She said 'No I ain't your mammy, yer mammy is 'way +way from here. I couldn't believe dat I had anudder mammy and I never +thought 'bout hit any mo'. One day I was settin' down at de barn when a +wagon come up de lane. I stood 'roun' lack a chile will. When de wagon +got to de house, my mammy got out an' broke and run to me an' th'owed +her arms 'roun' my neck an' hug an' kiss me. I never even put my arms +'roun' her or nothin' of de sort. I jes' stood dar lookin' at her. She +said, 'Son ain't you glad to see your mammy?' I looked at her an' walked +off. Mammy Selina call me an' tol' me dat I had hurt my mammy's +feelin's, and dat dis 'oman was my mammy. I went off an' studied and I +begins to 'member thangs. I went to Selina an' ast her how long it been +sence I seen my mammy. She tol' me dat I had been 'way from her sence I +was jes' a li'l chile. I went to my mammy an' tol' her dat I was sorry I +done what I did an' dat I would lack fer her to fergit an' forgive me +for de way I act when I fust saw her. After I had talked wid my real +mammy, she told me of how de family had been broke up an' dat she hadn't +seed my pappy sence he was sold. My mammy never would of seen me no mo' +if de Lawd hadn' a been in de plan. Tom White's daughter married one of +Mr. Crawford's sons. Dey lived in Virginia. Back den it was de custom +for women to come home whenever dey husbands died or quit 'em. Mr. +Crawford's son died an' dat th'owed her to hab to come home. My mammy +had been her maid, so when she got ready to come home she brung my mammy +wid her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Hit was hard back in dem days. Ever' mornin' fo' day break you had to +be up an' ready to git to de fiel'. Hit was de same ever' day in de year +'cep' on Sunday, an' den we was gittin' up earlier dan the folks do now +on Monday. De drivers was hard too. Dey could say what ever dey wanted +to an' you couldn't say nothin' for yourse'f. Somehow or yuther us had a +instinct dat we was goin' to be free. In de even't when de day's wuk was +done de slaves would be foun' lock' in dere cabins prayin' for de Lawd +to free dem lack he did de chillun of Is'ael. Iffen dey didn' lock up, +de Marsa or de driver would of heard 'em an' whupped 'em. De slaves had +a way of puttin' a wash pot in de do' of de cabin to keep de soun' in de +house. I 'members once ol' Ned White was caught prayin'. De drivers took +him de nex' day an' carried him to de pegs, what was fo' stakes drove in +de groun'. Ned was made to pull off ever'thang but his pants an' lay on +his stomach 'tween de pegs whilst somebody stropped his legs an' arms to +de pegs. Den dey whupped him 'twell de blood run from him lack he was a +hog. Dey made all of de han's come an' see it, an' dey said us'd git de +same thang if us was cotched. Dey don't 'low a man to whup a horse lack +dey whupped us in dem days.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After my mammy come whar I was I ho'ped her wid her work. Her tas' was +too hard for any one person. She had to serve as maid to Mr. White's +daughter, cook for all of de han's, spin an' card four cuts of thread a +day an' den wash. Dere was one hundred an' forty-four threads to de cut. +If she didn't git all of dis done she got fifty lashes dat night. Many a +night me an' her would spin an' card so she could git her task de nex' +day. No matter whut she had to do de nex' day she would have to git dem +fo' cuts of thread, even on wash day. Wash day was on Wednesday. My +mammy would have to take de clo's 'bout three quarters of a mile to de +branch whar de washin' was to be done. She didn't have no wash board +lack dey have now 'days. She had a paddle what she beat de clo's wid. +Ever'body knowed when wash day was 'case dey could hear de paddle for +'bout three or four miles. "Pow-pow-pow," dat's how it sound. She had to +iron de clo's de same day dat she washed an' den git dem four cuts of +thread. Lots of times she failed to git 'em an' got de fifty lashes. One +day when Tom White was whuppin' her she said, 'Lay it on Marsa White +'case I'm goin' to tell de Yankees when dey come.' When mammy got +through spinnin' de cloth she had to dye it. She used shumake berries, +indigo, bark from some trees, and dar was some kind of rock (probably +iron ore) what she got red dye from. De clo's wouldn't fade neither.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De white folks didn't learn us to do nothin' but wuk. Dey said dat us +warn't 'spose' to know how to read an' write. Dar was one feller name +E.C. White what learned to read an' write endurin' slavery. He had to +carry de chillun's books to school fer 'em an' go back atter dem. His +young marsa taught him to read an' write unbeknowance' to his father an' +de res' of de slaves. Us didn' have nowhar to go 'cep' church an' we +didn' git no pleasure outten it 'case we warn't 'lowed to talk from de +time we lef' home 'twell us got back. If us went to church de drivers +went wid us. Us didn't have no church 'cep' de white folks church.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After ol' Ned got sech a terrible beatin' fer prayin' for freedom he +slipped off an' went to de North to jine de Union Army. After he got in +de army he wrote to Marsa Tom. In his letter he had dose words:</p> +<p class="pnext">"'I am layin' down, marsa, and gittin' up, marsa;' meaning dat he went +to bed when he felt like it an' got up when he pleased to. He told Tom +White dat iffen he wanted him he was in the army an' dat he could come +after him. After ol' Ned had got to de North, de yuther han's begin to +watch for a chance to slip off. Many a one was cotched an' brung back. +Dey knowed de penalty what dey would have to pay, an' dis cause some of +'em to git desp'rite. Druther dan to take a beatin' dey would choose to +fight hit out 'twell dey was able to git away or die befo' dey would +take de beatin'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Lots of times when de patterollers would git after de slaves dey would +have de worse' fight an' sometimes de patterollers would git killed. +After de war I saw Ned, an' he tol' me de night he lef' the patterollers +runned him for fo' days. He say de way he did to keep dem frum ketchin' +him was he went by de woods. De patterollers come in de woods lookin' +for him, so he jes' got a tree on 'em an' den followed. Dey figured dat +he was headin' fer de free states, so dey headed dat way too, and Ned +jes' followed dem for as dey could go. Den he clumb a tree and hid +whilst dey turned 'roun' an' come back. Ned went on widout any trouble +much. De patterollers use ter be bad. Dey would run de folks iffen dey +was caught out after eight o'clock in de night, iffen dey didn' have no +pass from de marsa.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After de day's wuk was done there warn't anything for de slaves to do +but go to bed. Wednesday night they went to prayer meetin'. We had to be +in de bed by nine o'clock. Ever' night de drivers come 'roun' ter make +sho' dat we was in de bed. I heerd tell of folks goin' to bed an' den +gittin' up an' goin' to yuther plantation. On Sat'day de han's wukked +'twell noon. Dey had de res' of de time to wuk dey gardens. Ever' fambly +had a garden of dere own. On Sat'day nights the slaves could frolic for +a while. Dey would have parties sometimes an' whiskey and home-brew for +de servants. On Sundays we didn't do anything but lay 'roun' an' sleep, +'case we didn' lack to go to church. On Christmas we didn't have to do +no wuk: no more'n feed de stock an' do de li'l wuk 'roun' de house. When +we got through wid dat we had de res' of de day to run 'roun' wharever +we wanted to go. 'Co'se we had to git permission from de marsa.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De owners of slaves use to giv' cornshuckin' parties, an' invite slaves +from yuther plantations. Dey would have plenty of whiskey an' other +stuff to eat. De slaves would shuck corn an' eat an' drink. Dey use'to +giv' cotton pickin's de same way. All of dis went on at night. Dey had +jack-lights in de cotton patch for us to see by. De lights was made on a +forked stick an' moved from place to place whilst we picked. De corn +shuckin' was done at de barn, an' dey didn' have to have de lights so +dey could move dem frum place to place.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De only games dat I played when I was young was marbles an' ball. I use +to sing a few songs dat I heard de older folks sing lak:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Cecess ladies thank they mighty grand,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Settin' at de table, coffee pot of rye,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">O' ye Rebel union band, have these ladies understan'</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">We leave our country to meet you, Uncle Sam.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dese songs was 'bout de soldiers an' de war. There was one 'bout ol' +General Wise what went:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Ol' General Wise was a mighty man,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">And not a wise man either,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">It took forty yards of cloth to make a uniform,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">To march in de happy land of Canaan.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">Chorus:</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Ha-ha, ha-ha, de south light is comin',</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Charge boys, charge, dis battle we mus' have,</div> +</div> +<div class="line">To march us in the happy land of Canaan.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"There was a song 'bout General Roddy too:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">Run ol' Roddy through Tuscumbia, through Tuscumbia,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">We go marchin' on.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">Chorus:</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +<div class="line">Glory, glory hallelujah, glory, glory hallelujah,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Glory, glory hallelujah as we go marchin' on.</div> +<div class="line"> </div> +</div> +<div class="line">Ol' Roddy's coat was flyin', ol' Roddy's coat flyin' high,</div> +<div class="inner line-block"> +<div class="line">Twell it almost touch de sky, we go marchin' on.</div> +</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"I was a pretty big boy when de war broke out. I 'member seein' the +Yankees cross Big Bear creek bridge one day. All of de sojars crossed de +bridge but one. He stayed on de yuther side 'twell all de res' had got +'crost, den he got down offen his horse an' took a bottle of somp'in' +an' strowed it all over de bridge. Den he lighted a match to it an' +followed de res'. In a few minutes the Rebel sojars come to de bridge to +cross but it was on fire an' dey had to swim 'crost to de yuther side. I +went home an' tol' my mammy dat de Rebels was chasin' de Union sojars, +an' dat one of de Unions had poured some water on de bridge an' sot it +afire. She laugh' an' say: 'Son, don't you know dat water don't make a +fire? Dat musta been turpentine or oil?' I 'member one day Mr. Tom was +havin' a big barbecue for de Rebel soldiers in our yard. Come a big +roarin' down de military road, an' three men in blue coats rode up to de +gate an' come on in. Jes' as soon as de Rebels saw 'em de all run to de +woods. In 'bout five minutes de yard was full of blue coats. Dey et up +all de grub what de Rebels had been eatin'. Tom White had to run 'way to +keep de Yankees from gittin' him. 'Fo de Yankees come, de white folks +took all dey clo's an' hung 'em in de cabins. Dey tol' de colored folks +to tell de Yankees dat de clo's was dere'n. Dey tol' us to tell 'em how +good dey been to us an' dat we lacked to live wid 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All day dat we got news dat we was free, Mr. White called us niggers to +the house. He said: 'You are all free, jes' as free as I am. Now go an' +git yerse'f somewhar to stick your heads.' Jes' as soon as he say dat, +my mammy hollered out: 'Dat's 'nough for a yearlin'. She struck out +'crost de fiel' to Mr. Lee Osborn's to git a place for me an' her to +stay. He paid us seventy-five cents a day, fifty cents to her an' two +bits for me. He gave us our dinner along wid de wages. After the crop +was gathered fer that year, me an' my mammy cut an' hauled wood for Mr. +Osborn. Us lef' Mr. Osborn dat fall an' went to Mr. John Rawlins. Us +made a share crop wid him. Us'd pick two rows of cotton an' he'd pick +two rows. Us'd pull two rows of corn an' he'd pull two rows. He +furnished us wid rations an' a place to stay. Us'd sell our cotton an' +open corn an' pay Mr. John Rawlins for feedin' us. Den we moved wid Mr. +Hugh Nelson an' made a share crop wid him. We kep' movin' an' makin' +share crops 'twell us saved up 'nough money to rent us a place an' make +a crop fer ourse'ves. Us did right well at dis until de Ku Klux got so +bad, us had to move back wid Mr. Nelson for protection. De mens that +took us in was union men. Dey lived here in the south but dey tooken us +part in de slave business. De Ku Klux threat to whup Mr. Nelson 'case he +took up fer de niggers. Heap uv nights we would hear of the Ku Klux +comin' an' leave home. Sometimes us was scared not to go an' scared to +go 'way from home.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One day I borrowed a gun frum Ed Davis to go squ'el huntin'. When I +taken de gun back I didn't unload hit lack I allus been doin'. Dat night +de Ku Klux called on Ed to whup him. When dey tol' him to open de do', +he heard one of 'em say, 'Shoot him time he gits de do' open. 'Well, he +says to 'em,' wait 'twell I kin light de lamp.' Den he got de gun what I +had lef' loaded, got down on his knees an' stuck hit th'ough a log an' +pull de trigger. He hit Newt Dobbs in de stomach an' kilt him. He +couldn't stay 'roun' Burleson any mo', so he come to Mr. Nelson an' got +'nough money to git to Pine Bluff, Arkansas. The Ku Klux got bad sho' +'nough den and went to killin' niggers an' white folks, too.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I ma'ied Kizi Drumgoole. Reverend W.C. Northcross perform' de ceremony. +Dere warn't nobody dere but de witness an' me an' Kizi. I had three +sons, but all of 'em is dead 'cepin' one an' dat's Hugh. He get seven +chilluns. He wuks on de relief.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Abe Lincoln was as nobler man as ever walked. Jeff Davis was as +smart man as you ever wan' to see. Endurin' de war he sheared his horse +in sich a way dat he looked lack he was goin' one way when he'd gwine de +de yuther. Booker T. Washington did one of de greates' things when he +fix it for nigger boys an' girls to learn how to git on in de worl'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slavery wouldn't a been so bad, but folks made it so by selling us for +high prices, an' of co'se folks had to try to git dey money's worth out +of 'em. The chillun of Is'ael was in bondage one time an' God sent Moses +to 'liver 'em. Well I 'spose dat God sent Abe Lincoln to 'liver +us."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="abe-whitess"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id190">Abe Whitess</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Abe Whitess</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">David Holt</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">"MAYOR OF DOUGLASVILLE"</em></p> +<p class="pnext">When the sunshine is warm, Abe Whitess, "Mayor of Douglasville," sits +outside his cabin door near Bay Minette, Alabama, and watches the stream +of traffic on US 31 just beyond his bare feet, "a' restin'" in the +soothing sand. More than 90 years ago he was born not many miles from +this same cabin over in Mississippi as a slave of Col. Rupert, who owned +plantations in Alabama and Mississippi.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I come over to Alabama after the surrender," Abe Whitess told his +interviewer after he had retired with dignity to put on shoes before he +permitted his photograph to be taken. "I went to a plantation in Butler +County fust and then came on down here to Bay Minette.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Slavery wasn't so bad. Col. Rupert was a good marster, but he lived way +over in Mobile and us was at his Scooby (Scooba) plantation. That was in +Kemper County and his overseer there sho was handy with a whup. I was a +cotton hand and spent most of my time totin' water for the other hands. +When Mr. Lincoln 'mancipated us we was free and I didn't carry any more +water. It wasn't 'twell after the surrender I went to Butler County, +where Colonel Rupert had him another plantation.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I come down here to Bay Minette a long time ago. I us'ta be chairman of +the Republican party in Baldwin County here, but when the Republicans +got in they made the white gem'mun what took my job postmaster. Then the +bank I had my money in went busted in another Republican time and I +loses $658.05. I votes for Mr. Roosevelt now."</p> +<p class="pnext">Abe Whitess stopped to take a chew of his favorite tobacco and admitted +that he lived alone in his one-room cabin by preference. He doesn't want +women "botherin' 'round his place and ain't had no truckin' with 'em for +years." He cooks on the hearth just as his mammy did before him decades +ago in the slave quarters of Colonel Rupert's plantation.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-141"> +<span id="id63"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="Abe Whitess" src="images/image429whitess.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +Abe Whitess, Bay Minette, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">Despite his years, he is well able to take care of himself. He carries +his nine decades lightly, and his kindly face is topped by a wealth of +snow white hair. Though he lost money in the bank failure that made him +a Democrat in politics, Abe owns 14 acres of land, part of which he +farms. He has cleared a portion of it for a baseball diamond which is +rented to Negro teams, who play there frequently. The fee is always +collected before a ball is thrown.</p> +<p class="pnext">Several years ago he donated a part of the acreage to be used for a +public road which opened up a portion of Douglasville, the suburb in +which he lives, where a number of Negroes had developed a residential +section. His people named him then and since "Mayor of Douglasville," +without office or emolument, but Abe wears the title with a dignified +content for his remaining years.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="callie-williams"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id191">Callie Williams</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Callie Williams</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Mary A. Poole, Mobile</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">PATTEROLLERS USED SHACKLES, SAYS CALLIE</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Callie Williams was only four years old at the time of the surrender, +but stories told to her by her mother are vividly remembered, and the +fact that she has had the same environment continously throughout the +years imprinted these happenings permanently on her mind. She lives at +504 Eslava Street, Mobile.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy and pappy was brought to Alabama by specalators who sold 'em +to Mr. Hiram McLemore at Newport Landing, on de Alabama ribber," Callie +said. "Mammy's name was Vicey and she was born in Virginia, but my pappy +was born in Kentucky. His name was Harry. Mr. McLemore had about three +hundred head of slaves, some of 'em on one plantation of about two +thousand acres an' de res' on another place of about five hundred acres. +He sho' did have a pretty house. It was all white and ramblin-like and +had big trees aroun' it. Dere was a cool well and a big dairy right +close by it and den de cabins was all in a row in de back, some of 'em +made out of planks, but mos' of 'em was made wid logs. Dey was all named +after whoever lived in 'em."</p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Callie needed little urging to tell of the old days, and she claims +to vividly remember her master's family.</p> +<p class="pnext">"His wife was named Axie Bethea and he had seven children," she said.</p> +<p class="pnext">"One of 'em I never will forget, Miss Julia, 'case she gimme de first +calico dress I ever had and I was proud as a peacock wid it. Miss Julia +was de oldest little girl and dey give me to her.</p> +<p class="pnext">"My mammy say dat dey waked up in de mornin' when dey heard de sweep. +Dat was a piece of iron hangin' by a string and it made a loud noise +when it was banged wid another piece of iron. Dey had to get up at four +o'clock and be at work by sunup. To do dis, dey mos' all de time cook +breakfast de night befo'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Pappy was a driver under de overseer, but mammy say dat she stay at de +little nursery cabin and look after all de little babies. Dey had a +cabin fixed up with homemade cradles and things where dey put all de +babies. Der mammies would come in from de field about ten o'clock to +nurse 'em and den later in de day, my mammy would feed de youngest on +pot-licker and de older ones on greens and pot-licker. Dey had skimmed +milk and mush, too, and all of 'em stayed as fat as a butter balls, me +among 'em. Mammy saw dat I always got my share.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De slaves got rations every Monday night. Dere would be three pounds of +meat and a peck of meal. Dere was a big garden dat all of 'em worked and +dey had all de vegetables dey needed and dere was always plenty of +skimmed milk. Dey cooked de meals on open fireplaces in de big iron +'spiders.' Dem was big pots hangin' over the fire from a hook. Dey do de +cookin' at night and den warm it over the nex' day if dey wanted it dat +way.</p> +<p class="pnext">"While mammy was tendin' de babies she had to spin cotton and she was +supposed to spin two 'cuts' a day. Four 'cuts' was a hard day's work. +What was a cut? You oughta' know dat! Dey had a reel and when it had +spun three hundred yards it popped. Dat was a "cut." When it had been +spun, den another woman took it to de loom to make cloth for de slaves. +Dey always took Saturday afternoon to clean up de clothes and cabins, +'case dey always had to start work on Monday mornin' clean as a pin. If +dey didn't, dey got whupped for bein' dirty.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Some of de niggers, after dey'd been beat, would try to run away and +some of 'em got loose, but de patterollers caught a lot of 'em and den +dey'd get it harder dan ever befo' and have shackles out on dere feet +wid jes' enough slack for 'em to walk so dey could work.</p> +<p class="pnext">"If dey wanted to go 'possum huntin' or fishin', dey could get passes +from de overseer. Two things dey really loved to eat was 'possum and +fish. Dey'd eat and eat 'till dey'd get sick and den dey'd have to boil +up a dose of Boneset tea to work 'em out. If dat didn't make 'em feel +better, dey'd go to Marster. He always kept calomel, bluemas and quinine +on hand. If dey got too bad off sick, den marster would call de doctor. +De children wasn't bothered with nothin' much but worms and dey'd take +Jerusalem oak. It was de seed of a weed dat cook' and mix' 'lasses to +make it taste like candy. Boneset was a bush and dey'd boil de leaves to +get boneset tea.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mos' of de time de slaves would be too tired to do anything but go to +bed at night, but sometimes dey would set around and sing after supper +and dey would sing and pray on Sunday. One of de songs dat was used mos' +was 'Yon Comes Old Marster Jesus.' If I remembers rightly, it went +somp'n' like dis:</p> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line">I really believe Christ is comin' again</div> +<div class="line">He's comin' in de mornin'</div> +<div class="line">He's comin' in de mornin'</div> +<div class="line">He's comin' wid a rainbow on his shoulder</div> +<div class="line">He's comin' again bye and bye.</div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst">"Dey tried to make 'em stop singin' and prayin' durin' de war, 'case all +dey'd ask for was to be sot free, but de slaves would get in de cabins +and turn a big wash pot upside down and sing into dat, and de noise +couldn't get out. I don't remember nothin' about dis ceptin' what mammy +say.</p> +<p class="pnext">"When de Surrender come, she say dat a whole regiment of soldiers rode +up to de house yellin' to de niggers dat dey was free. Den de soldiers +took de meat out of de smokehouse and got all de 'lasses and meal and +give it all to de niggers. Dey robbed de bees and den dey eat dinner +and go on to de nex' place, takin' de menfolks wid 'em, all 'ceptin' de +ones too old, my pappy among 'em.</p> +<p class="pnext">"After it was all over my pappy rented land on Mr. McLemore's place and +he and mammy stayed dere till dey died. Dey was buried in de same +graveyard dat Mr. McLemore had set aside for his slaves. I married Frank +Williams in Montgomery, Alabama, but our marriage was nothin' like mammy +say her and pappy's was. She say dey 'jumped de broom stick.' When any +of de slaves wanted to get married dey would go to de big house and tell +marster and he'd get his broomstick and say, 'Harry, does you want +Vicey?' And Harry would say 'yes.' Den Marster would say, 'Vicey, does +you want Harry?', and she say 'yes.' Den marster say, 'Jine hands and +jump de broomstick and you is married. De ceremony wasn't much but dey +stuck lots closer den, and you didn't hear about so many divorces and +such as dat.</p> +<p class="pnext">"All my children is dead but two. I had five. One is livin' in Atlantic +City, N.J., and I live here wid de other one. I 'spects I'll jes' go on +livin' here 'till I die, serving Ole Marster as bes' I can. If all de +peoples on dis here earth would do dat, we wouldn't be pestered wid all +dese here troubles like we is nowadays.</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="silvia-witherspoon"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id192">Silvia Witherspoon</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with Silvia Witherspoon</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Susie R. O'Brien, Uniontown, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">FOOTS GETS TIRED FROM CHOPPIN' COTTON</em></p> +<p class="pnext">Aunt Silvia Witherspoon sat dozing on the steps of her small cabin, her +bare feet stretched out in the dry dust of the yard. A large horsefly +settled upon her broad nose and after a moment Aunt Silvia's composure +was disturbed to such an extent that she waved it off with her hand. On +doing so her eyes opened and she saw me approaching the steps. She +straightened. "Mawnin', Mistis. Jus' settin' heah coolin' off my foots. +I'se plum wo' out f'um choppin' cotton.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Yassmam," she continued, after I had asked a few questions, "I +remembers some things 'bout de slavery days. 'Co'se I can't remember +jus' 'zactly how old I is, but I mus' be mought nigh on to ninety, +'ca'se I was a raght sizable gal when de war ended. I was bawn on a +plantation in Jackson, Mississippi, dat belonged to my Massa, Dr. Minto +Witherspoon. My Pappy an' Mammy was name Lum an' Phyllis Witherspoon. De +white folks lived in a big, white house made outten logs. Honey, Massa +an' Mistis Witherspoon was quality! Yassmam, dey was quality. Us slaves +was treated lak we was somp'n round dat place. Massa didn't 'low no +oberseer to tote no strop 'hine his niggers. Besides dat we was fed good +an' had good clothes. He useta done had brogans sont out in boxfuls f'um +Mobile. My job was to do little things aroun' de white folks' house, but +befo' dat I stayed in de quarters an' nussed my mammy's chilluns, while +she worked in de fiel's. She would tie de smalles' baby on my back so's +I could play widout no inconvenience. I laked to stay at de big house, +dough, an' fan de flies offen de white folks while dey et. Dat was de +bes' job I eber had. Mistis gived me a dress dat de white chilluns done +out-growed an' on Sunday I was de dressed-upest nigger in de quarter.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa 'longed to de Presbyterian chu'ch, so all us niggers was +Presbyterians too. We all went to our own chu'ch dat was on de place +dar.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Massa kep' a pack of blood hounds but it warn't often dat he had to use +'em 'ca'se none of our niggers eber runned away. One day, dough, a +nigger named Joe did run away. Believe me Mistis, dem blood hounds cotch +dat nigger 'fo' he got to de creek good. It makes me laugh till yit de +way dat nigger jumped in de creek when he couldn't swim a lick jus' +'ca'se dem houn's was atter him. He sho made a splash, but dey managed +to git him out 'fo he drowned.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I ma'ied about a year atter de war, an' Mistis, I didn't have no pretty +dress to git ma'ied in. I ma'ied dat ole nigger in a dirty work dress +an' my feets was bare jus' lak dey is now. I figured dat iffen he loved +me, he loved me jus' as well in my bare feets as he would wid my shoes +on.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Does I believe in ghosties? Sho I does. I don't suppose you was bawn +wid a veil on yo' face lak I was, 'ca'se I can see dem ghosties as plain +as dey was here raght now. I'll tell you 'bout one dat comes out de +white folks chu'ch yard. On dark rainy nights, I sees him, tall wid long +white robes drappin f'um him. He carries a big light so bright dat you +can't see his face, but he looks jus' lak a man. It don't bother me +none, 'ca'se I don't bother it.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I keeps a flour sifter an' a fork by my bed to keep de witches f'um +ridin' me. How come I knows dey rides me? Honey, I bees so tired in de +mawnin' I kin scarcely git outten my bed, an' its all on account of dem +witches ridin' me, so I putt de sifter dere to cotch 'em. Sometimes I +wears dis dime wid de hole in it aroun' my ankle to keep off de conjure, +but since Monroe King tuk an' died us ain't had much conjerin' 'roun' +here. You know dat ole nigger would putt a conjure on somebody for jus' +a little sum of money. He sold conjure bags to keep de sickness away. He +could conjure de grass an' de birds, an' anything he wanted to. De +niggers 'roun' useta give him chickens an' things so's he wouldn't +conjure 'em, but its a funny thing Mistis, I ain't never understood it, +he got tuk off to jail for stealin' a mule, an' us niggers waited 'roun' +many a day for him to conjure hisself out, but he never did. I guess he +jus' didn't have quite enough conjurin' material to git hisself th'ough +dat stone wall. I ain't never understood it, dough."</p> +</div> +<div class="level-2 section" id="george-young"> +<h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><a class="toc-backref pginternal" href="#id193">George Young</a></h2> +<blockquote><div> +<div class="line-block outermost"> +<div class="line"><strong class="bold">Interview with George Young</strong></div> +<div class="line">—<em class="italics">Ruby Pickens Tartt, Livingston, Alabama</em></div> +</div> +</div></blockquote> +<p class="pfirst"><em class="italics">PETER HAD NO KEYS 'CEPIN' HIS'N</em></p> +<p class="pnext">"De Lawd wouldn' trusted Peter wid no keys to Heaven," in the opinion of +George Young, of Livingston, Alabama, born into slavery ninety-one years +ago. George knew the rigors of slavery under an absentee landlord and +brutal overseers, according to the story he tells.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was born on what was knowed as de Chapman Place, five miles nor'wes' +of Livingston, on August 10th, 1846," George began his tale. My name was +George Chapman an' I had five brothers, Anderson, Harrison, William, +Henry an' Sam, an' three Sisters, Phoebe, Frances and Amelia. My +mother's name was Mary Ann Chapman an' my father's name was Sam Young, +but he b'longed to Mr. Chapman. Us all belonged to Governor Reuben +Chapman of Alabama.</p> +<p class="pnext">"The overseer's name was Mr. John Smith, an' anudder's name was Mr. +Lawler. He was dere de year I was born, an' dey called hit "Lawler +year." Bofe of 'em was mean, but Lawler, I hear tell, was de meanes'. +Dey had over three hund'ed slaves, caze dey had three plantations, one +at Bodke, one in Huntsville and dis yere one. I can't say Marsa Chapman +wasn't good to us, caze he was all de time in Huntsville an' jes' come +now an' den an' bring his family to see 'bouten' things. But de +overseers was sho' mean.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I seed slaves plenty times wid iron ban's 'roun' dey ankles an' a hole +in de ban' an' a iron rod fasten to hit what went up de outside of dey +leg to de wais' an' fasten to another iron ban' 'roun' de waist. Dis +yere was to keep 'em from bendin' dey legs an' runnin' away. Dey call +hit puttin' de stiff knee on you, an' hit sho' made 'em stiff! Sometimes +hit made 'em sick, too, caze dey had dem iron ban's so tight roun' de +ankles, dat when dey tuck 'em off live things was under 'em, an' dat's +whut give 'em fever, dey say. Us had to go out in de woods an' git +May-apple root an' mullen weed an' all sich to bile for to cyore de +fever. Miss, whar was de Lord in dem days? Whut was He doin'?</p> +<p class="pnext">"But some of 'em runned away, anyhow. My brother Harrison was one, an' +dey sot de "nigger dogs" on him lack fox houn's run a fox today. Dey +didn't run him down till 'bout night but finely dey cotched him, an' de +hunters feched him to de do' an' say: "Mary Ann, here' Harrison." Den +dey turned de dogs loose on him ag'in, an' sich a screamin' you never +hyared. He was all bloody an' Mammy was a-hollerin', 'Save him, Lord, +save my chile, an' don' let dem dogs eat him up.' Mr. Lawler said, 'De +Lord ain't got nothin' do wid dis here, an' hit sho' look lack He +didn't, 'caze dem dogs nigh 'bout chewed Harrison up. Dem was hard +times, sho'.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Dey didn't l'arn us nothin' an' didn't 'low us to l'arn nothin'. Iffen +dey ketch us l'arnin' to read an' write, dey cut us han' off. Dey didn't +'low us to go to church, neither. Sometimes us slip off an' have a +little prayer meetin' by usse'ves in a ole house wid a dirt flo'. Dey'd +git happy an' shout an' couldn't nobody hyar 'em, 'caze dey didn't make +no fuss on de dirt flo', an' one stan' in de do' an' watch. Some folks +put dey head in de wash pot to pray, an' pray easy, an' somebody be +watchin' for de overseer. Us git whupped fer ev'ything iffen hit was +public knowed.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Us wasn't 'lowed visit nobody from place to place, an' I seed Jim +Dawson, dis here same Iverson Dawson' daddy; I seed him stobbed out wid +fo' stobs. Dey laid him down on his belly an' stretch his han's out on +bofe sides an' tie one to one stob, an' one to de yuther. Bofe his feet +was stretch out an' tied to dem stobs. Den dey whupped him wid a whole +board whut you kiver a house wid. De darkies had to go dere in de night +an' take him up in a sheet an' carry him home, but he didn't die. He +was 'cused of gwine over to de neighbor's plantation at night. Nine +o'clock was de las' hour us had to be closed in. Head man come out an' +holler, "Oh, yes! Oh, yes! Ev'ybody in an' do's locked." An' iffen you +wan't, you got whupped.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Wan't nobody 'lowed to co't. Us jes' taken up together an' go ahead, +an' dat thing wan't fixed 'twel atter S'render.</p> +<p class="pnext">"De Patterolles come frum diffe'nt places, an' de Tank'sleys, de Potts, +de Cock'ells an' de Greg'rys was neighbors. I may of went to dey house +an' dey claim to pertec' me playin' wid dey little nigger chillun, but +iffen de Patterollers ketch me, dey claim dey wan't 'sponsible. One day, +dey tuck out atter me an' I come right here in Livingston, but I was +gwiner run away anyhow, 'caze I had seed ole Uncle Thornton dat mornin'. +See, I was de ca'f nusser an' soon as I lef' de house I met him, an' +here come de overseer, Mr. Smith. He sent atter me an' he said, 'I seed +six niggers in de woods whut run away,' an' asked did I see ole man +Thornton. I said, 'No, I ain't seed nobody.' He said, 'Nev' mine, I make +you tell a better tale'n dat in de mawnin'.' So when I went wid de slop +to dem ca'ves I got to thinkin' 'bout dat whupping so I come right here.</p> +<p class="pnext">"Mr. Norville had a wood-shop right 'crost de road dere by de white +folks Baptis' church an' I hid in de back of hit dat night. But dey +foun' me an' tuck me back. Den dey stop me from ca'f nussin' an' put me +in de fiel' under de head man. I was glad of dat, 'caze I wanted to be +wid de other han's, but when I foun' out how 'twas, I wanted to be back. +Hit was a harder tas' den when I was nussin' ca'ves an' keepin' 'em from +breakin' in de fiel' an' eatin' up de crop.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I was a good han' an' obeyed de owners an' de head man an' never had no +'fuse 'bout work. I went one time to Bennet's Station, ten miles b'low +here, wid jes' seven mo' niggers from de Chapman place, an' us driv' +over a thousan' head of cattle to Atlanta, Ga., an' never had no +trouble. I was easy pleased. Give me a piece of candy an' I'd lick hit +'twel my mouf was so'. I reckon hit was all right, but I dunno. All de +nations couldn't rule. Jes' lack hit is now, de stronges' people mus' +rule.</p> +<div class="align-center figure" style="margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" id="figure-142"> +<span id="id64"/><img style="display: block; margin-left: 12%; width: 75%" alt="George Young" src="images/image438young.jpg" width="75%"/> +<div class="caption italics"> +George Young, Livingston, Alabama</div> +</div> +<p class="pfirst">"Atter S'render, dey tuck a darky for de probit jedge, but dat nigger +didn't know nothin' an' he couldn't rule. So den dey tuck a white man +name Sanders, an' he done all right. We was under hard task-masters an' +I'm glad dey sot me free, 'caze I was under burden an' boun'. But +ignerrancy can't rule, hit sho' can't. We is darkies, an' white folks +ought to be favorable. Some speaks better words'n others, but ev'ybody +ain't got de same heart, an' dat's all I knows.</p> +<p class="pnext">"No'm, I dunno nuthin' 'bout no spirits, either, but Christ 'peered to +de 'postles, didn't He, atter he been dead? An' I'se seed folks done +been dead jes' as na'chel in de day as you is now. One day me an' my +wife was pickin' cotton right out yonder on Mr. White's place, an' I +looked up an' seed a man all dressed in black, wid a white shirt bosom, +his hat a-sittin' on one side, ridin' a black hoss.</p> +<p class="pnext">"I stoop down to pick some cotton, den look up an' he was gone. I said +to my wife—I call her Glover but she go by two names—I said, Glover, +wonder whar dat man went what was ridin' long yonder on dat pacin' +hoss?' She say, 'What pacin' hoss an' what man?' I said, 'He was comin' +down dat bank by dat ditch. Dey ain't no bridge dere, an' no hoss could +jump hit.' Glover said, 'Well, I'm gwine in de house 'caze I don' feel +lack pickin' cotton today.'</p> +<p class="pnext">"But I ain't skeered of 'em. I gets out de path plenty times to let 'em +by, an' iffen you kin see'em, walk 'roun' 'em. Iffen you can't see 'em, +den dey'll walk 'roun' you. Iffen dey gets too plentiful, I jes' hangs a +hoss shoe upside down over de do', an' don' have no mo' trouble. But +ev'ybody oughter have dat kinder min', to honor God. He 'peered to de +'ciples atter He died, an' he said also, 'Peter, I'll give you de keys +to de kingdom'. But Peter didn't have nobody's keys 'cep'in' his'n. +Don't you know iffen he'd of give Peter all dem keys, dey's a heap of +folks Peter gwineter keep out of dere jes' for spite? God ain't gwineter +do nothin' dat foolish. Peter didn't have nobody's key 'cepin' +Peter's!"</p> +<div class="topic"> +<p class="level-2 pfirst title topic-title topic-title first">Transcriber's Note</p> +<p class="pfirst">Original spelling has been maintained; e.g. "<em class="italics">stob</em>—a short +straight piece of wood, such as a stake" (American Heritage +Dictionary).—The Works Progress Administration was renamed +during 1939 as the Work Projects Administration (WPA).</p> +</div> +<div class="vspace" style="height: 5em"> +</div> +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 36020 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |